#actually for my birthday many months ago my friend drew | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sparklingchim · 4 years

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stay with me; m | kth

pairing: taehyung x you

word count: 3.3k

genre: ex-husband!taehyung, smut, angst

warnings: mentions of alcohol usage, grinding, groping, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, slight chocking, marking, finger sucking, multiple orgasms, creampie

summary: maybe the love between your ex-husband and you was gone, but the sexual desire never died.

a/n: just something about ex-husband taehyung entices me🤔 anyways, i hope u like this fic!💘

masterlist

,,I can walk on my own." You wiggle yourself out of Taehyung's grasp, but of course he wouldn't relent and only tightens his hold on your hips.

,,You are drunk."

,,I'm tipsy!" you correct him and one second later you trip over your own feet and cling onto him, fingers clasping his arms in a desperate attempt to avoid falling.

He only exhales a sharp breath trough his nose and doesn't continue to argue with you - if you would insist on only being tipsy while tripping over something non-existent, that was fine. Taehyung could live with that. You already had done enough of arguing during the car ride - or maybe already enough in the past year of your not so perfect marriage.

It was weekend, Jimin threw his birthday at some club and invited all of his closest friends. You knew that Taehyung would be there - he was Jimin's best friend after all - but you still had hope that he wouldn't come. You had avoided gatherings with friends just so you didn't have to see Taehyung several times already.

The kids were over at Taehyungs place on the weekends, but he asked his parents if they could look after them - after reaching out to you to ask if you'd be able to have them, but you said you were also going to Jimin's party - and said he'd come pick them up the next day.

So here you are, having one too many drinks - still not drunk though - and are getting dragged inside your house - that once Taehyung bought for your little family (you didn't have the time or the energy to move out of the house yet) - by your ex-husband.

,,I guess you're sober enough to get into bed by yourself?" Taehyung mocks you with that cold stare, but his iciness is only a layer that he coiled around his actual worry about your condition.

The sudden realisation that Taehyung is going to leave you hit your very hard. After you didn't respond to him, he turns on his heels and starts heading to the door.

,,Taehyung," a tiny plead escapes your lips, your voice small.

You don't want him to leave you alone.

This house is so big and you're so small. So small compared to the memories that once filled this dwelling. But they were no longer there anymore. Sometimes you thought about those times when everything was still so easy-going and perfect, but you locked these memories somewhere inside you when all of that was over. You didn't want to think about the chirpy life and the utter happiness that once found its fundament in this house.

Of course you had been alone over the weekend several times already because Taehyung and you separated months ago, but that lonely feeling clawed at your heart and your only escape to it would - ironically - be Taehyung.

Taehyung sighs like he already expected this reaction. Did he really? You'd like to ask him, but your mouth doesn't open. When it comes to Taehyung you've became silent, always talking in shortcut answers, trying not to have to talk to him at all costs, sometimes even ignoring his whole presence. That's what your marriage turned into and it only resulted in Taehyung and you breaking up with each other.

Of course everyone was shocked to hear the news - you and Taehyung spent 5 years with each other after all - and asked how you both were gonna manage the situation with your little ones. You didn't know the answer to this question at first, but you knew that you wanted to get away from Taehyung and the constant agonising feeling that reminded you of that you both didn't have the love that once drew you together.

Your three year old son and your little eight month old baby girl still don't quite understand why they only get to see their daddy on the weekends plus having to sleep at another place when they are with him.

It was hard, but it had to work out like this.

Taehyung gets you inside your bedroom, a firm hand on your waist.

,,Do you want to change your clothes?" he asks as he sits you down on the edge of the bed.

The tension in the room was buzzing. And looking into Taehyung's familiar orbs oddly dawns a serenity inside you which was quite startling because the only thing you started to associated with this man was the feeling of uneasiness whenever you saw him.

,,No," you mumble, which causes Taehyung to turn around and furrow his eyebrows in confusion. He already walked towards your wardrobe to get some clothes for you. ,,Can you sit with me?" You pat the soft duvet beside you.

Taehyung seems to contemplate your approach, but relents anyway.

You want him. You're not sure if it's because of the alcohol buzzing inside you or the sexual desire - that never faded despite the lack of love in your relationship - that drowns your body in sudden longing for Taehyung.

Taehyung can feel it too. He knows what that stare of yours means and those eyes that darken in lust. Nonetheless, Taehyung wouldn't comment on that. You drank alcohol, you don't know what you want.

,,You're drunk," he whispers.

,,I'm really not."

Your hand reaches for his neck, fingers grazing up till you're cascading your digits through the hair on the back of his head. Taehyung closes his eyes, your comforting touch on his hair was always a soft spot for him.

After a few more seconds you sit up, knees digging into the mattress and Taehyung knows what you're about to do.

,,y/n," he mumbles, but he doesn't prevent you from throwing your leg over his body to straddle his lap.

You wrap your arms around his neck, your bodies so close to each other and the utter sultriness that radiates from Taehyung's body envelopes you. Having you on his lap makes something shift inside Taehyung. He was always malleable when it came to your body.

An inkling of veritable desire lunges in the air and neither of you can evade the accentuating passion.

The proximity of your faces rapidly increases, making your heart beat faster in anticipation.

,,Just stay with me for the night," you mumble against his lips.

You wait, not daring to plant your lips onto his before you're entirely sure that he also wants this as bad as you do.

But Taehyung does. He wants you too. So within a second he captures your lips with his own, his plush mouth languidly moving against yours. The feeling of his lips against yours tickles down your spine, the sheer knowledge that you're on Taehyung's lap, kissing him after months of not having each other like that was overwhelming all your senses. It felt so good.

Even though Taehyung and you didn't touch or kiss one another once you both started arguing a lot, sometimes you still felt the sizzling air and the physical attraction that wanted to escape the cage that you built around it and finally feel him again, but you two never yielded to that longing, the hate that you both felt always won over... Well, up until now.

You start grinding your body against his groin, making both of you moan into the kiss. The deep sounds of his throat only cause you to get hungrier for him.

Taehyung's hands reach down to your butt, cupping your cheeks with his big hands and hiking your tight skirt up. The sensual grinding gives your clit the long-coveted friction.

You feel your panties sticking to your core when the grinding gets heavier and he starts bucking his hips upwards. Both of you retract from the kiss, filling the room with heavy pants as you relish in the pleasure that builds up.

His fingers fumble on the zipper of your skirt, harshly tugging it down and prompting you to stand up to get it off. While you get your skirt off he quickly removes his pants. You immediately settle yourself back onto his lap once he threw his pants away. His bulge wasn't covered by the thick fabric anymore and you can feel his prominent hard on, on your clothed core.

Taehyung guides your hips over his groin, letting your body start right where you left off. He places wet kisses all over your neck, leaving wet trails before sucking on your soft skin. Soon your neck blooms in read bruises.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder, moaning against his skin when he moves you faster, groping your ass in his hands.

Taehyung suddenly turns the both of you around, throwing you on the bed. Through pure instict you spread your legs for him, giving him room to settle himself above you. His greedy hands roam all over your body, coming to a stop at the hem of your black top to swiftly tug it over your head. Taehyung cups you breast through the bra with one hand, kneading your full flesh in his palm.

His lips trail kisses over your neck again and you impatiently pull at his white shirt. Taehyung sits back on his heels, dragging his shirt over his body. Your digits instantly graze over his tanned chest when he leans down again, brushing over his hard abs.

His hands sneak under your body, unclasping your bra. Taehyung's mouth latches onto your hard bud once it's free from the fabric, circling and sucking on it. You keen at the feeling of his warm mouth, his other hand tweaking your sensitive bud. When he gives your other nipple the same attention you wrap your legs around his slim waist, putting pressure on his lower back to get the feeling of his cock back onto your needy core.

Taehyung doesn't relent though, pinning your body down and not allowing to pleasure yourself through your shameless grinding.

His mouth wanders down, kissing your belly and the stretch marks that garnish your skin. They are a constant reminder of the two beautiful babies that you brought into this world. Then he lays flat on his stomach, your clothed pussy right in front his eyes. Nonetheless, Taehyung doesn't decide to dive right in despite the prominent smell of your arousal that causes his dick to twitch in eagerness.

He nibbles at your inner thighs, grazing his teeth against your doughy skin and leaving bruises. The longing for him only increases and the squirming of your body tells him how bad you need him.

The need to feel something on your aching pussy gets compelling, so when Taehyung discards your panties in one smooth motion and spreads your folds with his fingers, exposing your pink hole for his eyes, you whimper and buck your hips up. The cold air greeting your cunt and Taehyung's eyes just plainly staring at the sight in front of him prompts your toes to curl.

You almost start begging, but then his tongue darts out, starting to lick from your entrance up to your swollen clit. The simple stripe of his tongue sparks so much pleasure in you and you know it's not going to take long till Taehyung would sent you off into heaven - or perhaps hell if you take the sinful act into consideration.

And when Taehyung starts sucking on your little bundle of nerves it's over for you. One hand keeps you down by your hips when your body starts squirming, the other one squeezes your inner thigh, leaving his prints on the soft flesh.

,,Fuck," you mewl, pushing some strands of his hair away and running your fingers through his dark fluffy locks.

Taehyung's hands leaves his grip on you thigh, his index finger circling your entrance and gathering your juices before plunging it inside your quivering pussy. He moves his finger slowly, enjoying how your walls immediately clench around him and delightfully making room for another finger.

With now two fingers he picks up on speed, your fingers scraping his scalp when you start getting lost in the ecstasy that Taehyung provides for you.

You start palming one breast, the urge to have something to compensate the sensations that rush through your body getting really strong. Taehyung groans at that alluring view, his eyes roaming all over your body to embed every single detail into his memory so he would never forget it.

When he starts flicking his wicked tongue on your clit, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip so harshly that you're surprised to not taste any blood. Taehyung's fingers fuck you so vigorously, his digits brushing against your sweet spot every time he shoots them back inside. The squelchy sounds of your arousal ricochets off the walls.

You don't need much until your whole being gets drenched in euphoria. The sheer fact that you're intimate with Taehyung is enough to drive your crazy. You moan is name out loud, legs shaking ferociously and walls convulsing around his slender fingers. A whiny curse leaves your lips, your fingers tugging at his hair. His now wet fingers slide up to your clit, removing his lips from your sensitive bud to draw slow circles on it.

You cup both your hands on his cheek and he knows exactly what you want. Taehyung immediately yields, coming up from his beloved place between your legs and plants tender kisses on your collarbone. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him even closer and nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, still panting heavily as he rides out your high with his digit down there.

You always needed this. You always needed to get enticed in his soothing embrace after Taehyung let you see the stars. Just the knowledge of having him right with you after being so intimate with each other always made you feel even better, so there was no exception for this time, regardless of what you both have been through for the past months. Taehyung always made sure to be there for you after you came. The snugness of his body over yours sheathed your sensuality in a thin layer of bliss before you would continue.

Taehyung's draws of his finger stop soon enough and his face hovers over yours once again. The utter gorgeousness of his face is still breathing taking, even after five years of being with him.

,,You're still on the pill?" he asks and tucks a strand of hair behind you ear. You nod, the beautiful glimmer of his eyes captivating you.

Taehyung quickly shuffles to get rid of his boxers that where getting really tight thanks to his throbbing boner. You're both needy so he immediately glides his tip over your slick folds to gather every bit of your juices before he aligns himself and starts pushing in. The stretch of his cock is welcomed, your walls getting pushed aside by his thick member. It had been so long since something was plunged into you, the last time being Taehyung when you still had a happy relationship.

You close your eyes as you savour the feeling of his cock being inside you after so many months and whimper when he doesn't wait till he's fully in, but bottoms out and snaps his hips forcefully back and rams his cock deep inside of you. You moan in unison and he grabs your leg by your calves to pull it up his waist.

After that one harsh jolt of his hips Taehyung doesn't establish a fast tempo by starting of with a slow rhythm, but instantly assembles a rapid speed. You open your eyes and watch how he lets the pleasure fully enwrap his whole being and gets lost at the feeling of your tight pussy enveloping his hard dick.

Taehyung's low-pitched moans spread goose bumps all over your body, his resonant sounds igniting the knot in your stomach even more.

You don't know if Taehyung had any encounters with other women when you broke up these past months, but at this point that thought doesn't even interest you anymore. Right now he's with you, ramming his perfect cock inside you and moaning your name into the hot air.

You both missed having each other like this, not arguing or ignoring each other, but actually enjoying being together and relishing in the pleasure you both are able to give one another. You can't believe that you're actually having sex with Taehyung again after so much time, but her you are, finally giving into the desire that always sizzled between you.

Taehyung watches how your breast bounce because of his merciless speed, groping your perky tit harshly. You whine, his hand feeling so good wherever he touches you. He then reaches up, his fingers tenderly wrapping around your throat before lightly squeezing.

,,Oh God," you moan, eyes rolling back.

His cock reaches all the right spots, balls slapping onto your skin and leaving you as a whimpering mess beneath him that he created with his skilful movements.

Your amazed at how fast your high approaches again, but maybe it shouldn't be that surprising because you didn't feel anything like this for months now and your body reacted to sensitive to every touch of Taehyung.

His hand comes up from your throat, sliding his thumb between your moaning lips and you habitually enclose your mouth around his digit, sucking on it while looking into his eyes.

Taehyung's face is scrunched up in fulfilment and he curses after you so obediently wrapped your pretty lips around his thumb and your moans getting muffled by it.

Your needy walls clench around his member, making him hiss and causing his trusts to get brisker.

You furrow your eyebrows in rapture and move a hand down to your clit, circling your bud in a ferocious manner. The stutter of Taehyung's hips tell you that he's close too and is about to shoot his cum into depth of you tight pussy.

He withdraws his thumb out of your mouth, running his hand though your hair before harshly tugging at it and presenting your neck to him. Taehyung ducks down, continuing to leave small bruises on your skin like he did before. His lips feel so good on your skin, his sucking sending arousal straight down your already drenched core.

Soon the bubble of pure bliss pops and spreads all over your body. Taehyung feels it and stops his attack on your neck, intently

watching how your whole face looks like while you're cumming - so beautiful.

Your high sets Taehyung off too and it doesn't take long until his hot cum shoots inside you, painting your walls white. He groans and his head hangs low, his whole body getting intoxicated by the feeling of releasing his cum inside you.

Your body jolts, legs shaking frantically and heavy pants leave your lips. You stop drawing circles on you clit, enjoying the sloppy thrusts from Taehyung who rides both your highs out. But soon enough his movements come to a halt too, leaving both of you in a warm afterglow.

Your arms fail to wrap around his neck as he leans away from your body. You seek for his comforting embrace, but the only thing that swathes your body is coldness.

He gets up from the bed, draping his briefs over his naked body.

,,Taehyung," you say meek, eyes following him. Your body needs his assuaging caress, but he isn't there for you.

You assume he is going to come back to you once he gets his briefs on, you already anticipate the comfort of his arms around you, but he doesn't aim for the bed but searches for his clothes that are scattered around the floor. He's getting ready to leave.

You cover your exposed body under the sheets, watching how he puts his clothes on.

You don't need to ask him.

He doesn't need to clarify.

Taehyung won't stay with you.

#taehyung angst #taehyung smut #dad!taehyung #husband taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #kpop angst #kpop smut #kim taehyung #taehyung #bts smut #bts angst #smut #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts x reader #taehyung x reader

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

Text

It’s the Thought that Counts

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Birthday Oneshot

All Rowan wants to do is throw a surprise party for his girlfriend, but that becomes increasingly difficult as every possible thing that could go wrong—goes wrong.

I wrote this for my birthday on the fifth, but I couldn't wait until then to post it, Enjoy!

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, Light NSFW

4476 words

*******

“Are you serious?”

If Rowan’s hair wasn’t already silver, it would’ve been by the end of the day from all the stress this was putting him through.

Looking into the open cake box in Fenrys’ hands, he just stared at the inscription atop what was supposed to be a birthday cake for Aelin.

“What? What’s wrong?” Fenrys tried to lean over the lid of the box but it was tall enough to block his view.

“Did you even look at it before you left the store? Before you paid for it?” It took all of Rowan’s self-control not to scream. How many more things could go wrong today?

Fenrys shifted uneasily, noticing Rowan’s slipping control. “Uh, no. I was already running late, and you said to get back here as soon as possible to help finish setting up.”

All Rowan could do was let out a long, slow breath.

“This. Says. Alien.”

The blonde man holding the cake snorted, “what?”

“The cake says ‘Happy Birthday, Alien’”

“Seriously?” Fenrys was quick to put the box down on a nearby table so he could stand next to Rowan and look at it. “Shit. They even put little green Martians on it.”

All Rowan wanted to do was throw a surprise party for his girlfriend.

Was that really too much to ask? Apparently, so.

A couple of months ago Aelin had mentioned how she’d always wanted a surprise party, but of course, you cant ask for a surprise party because then it’s no longer a surprise.

Rowan took the hint and decided to plan something special for her birthday. He even got all their friends to help, and if everything had gone to plan then it would have been a perfect day.

Too bad he couldn’t catch a break.

Rowan had made a list of everything they needed to do, buy, and plan. It was an extensive list because he knew that a party for Aelin had to be perfect. Not because she had impossibly high standards—well, she did, but that wasn’t why it had to be perfect—it was because he loved her and wanted to show her how much he appreciated her on her birthday.

And he thought it would be the icing on the cake—pun intended—to have all their friends involved too. That’s why he was making calls to all of them about what they each needed to do for the party.

First, he got Lorcan and Elide to pick up the golden balloon arch that was going to be at the entrance of the park he’d reserved for the day. By the time he got on the phone with Lorcan, Rowan was already exasperated from having to deal with the city planning office in order to reserve the particular park and gazebo.

“Lorcan, I need you in charge of the—” Rowan broke off, hearing a loud crackling from the other end of the phone.

“You’re cutting off, wha— you say?” Lorcan’s voice was halting as the call cut in-and-out

“I was saying, I need you to cover the balloons.”

“Ba—”

“The balloon canopy.”

“The bo—, ca—”

“Yeah, we need a golden balloon canopy.”

“Okay, fine. I— got the— boun— ca—”

“Shit. Can you hear me?” Rowan pulled his phone away to check his service. It was fine from his end, it must be Lorcan’s phone being spotty.

When Rowan put the phone back to his ear, he could hear rustling and the sound of a car door opening and closing, and then the connection cleared.

“Yeah, man. I heard you. But, are you sure Aelin wants that?” Lorcan sounded skeptical.

“What? Yeah, of course, it’ll be great.” Rowan was already getting impatient, knowing he had a few more errands to run before he could relax.

“Whatever. She’s your girlfriend, and it’s your credit card.”

Rolling his eyes, Rowan muttered, “Thank you for your generous help, Lorcan.” then heard someone scolding Lorcan and grinned before saying loud enough for the other person to hear, “Thank you, Elide!”

Rowan hung up and mentally checked off the balloons. What was next?

***

“Aedion, please, I need you to keep Aelin busy for the day.”

Aedion and Lysandra had come over to Rowan and Aelin’s apartment for dinner, and Rowan had dragged Aedion into the kitchen to talk about that weekend’s plan.

Taking a sip of his beer, Aedion raised an eyebrow at him, “Won’t she wonder why her boyfriend is avoiding her on her birthday?”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I won’t be avoiding her. You will very adamantly request to take your cousin to lunch for her birthday, and who am I to get in the way of family?”

Aedion snorted but nodded. “Yeah, okay. Lys and I can take her out.”

“No, Lys can’t be there.”

“What?” Aedion looked at him bewildered. “Why not?”

Rowan sighed. “Because if Lysandra is there with you, then Aelin will wonder why I’m not there with her. If it’s just you and Aelin, then she won’t think it’s weird that I’m gone. Besides,” Rowan took another sip of beer, “I’ll need Lys’ help during the day to set up that slideshow.”

“Right.”

The slideshow Rowan had asked Aedion and Lysandra to make using pictures of Aelin that would play during the party. The one that Aedion wasn’t going to tell Rowan hadn’t been started yet. “Yeah, okay. I’ll invite Aelin to come get lunch with me.”

“Perfect.”

One more thing off Rowan’s list.

***

The morning of the party Rowan asked Fenrys to go pick up Aelin’s cake. It was supposed to be a chocolate and hazelnut cake with the top decorated with kingsflame blossoms and say, “Happy Birthday Aelin.”

Rowan was distracted with setting up decorations and directing their friends to put away the things they brought. Dorian and Manon were in charge of getting the alcohol. Chaol and Yrene were bringing deserts because when it came to Aelin there could never be enough sweets. Fenrys helped Rowan bring out the rest of the food, before being sent off to pick up the cake.

Rowan did a quick scan, mentally checking off everyone. Besides the people he could see, he knew Lysandra was in the gazebo finishing up the slideshow, Aedion was out distracting Aelin, and Elide and Lorcan would be here any minute with the balloons.

Letting out a breath, Rowan smiled. Things seemed to be coming together.

Busy showing Dorian where the coolers for the drinks were, he was too distracted to do more than wave a ‘hello’ to Lorcan and Elide as Lorcan’s truck pulled up to the park. Rowan decided they were smart enough to figure out how to set up a balloon arch—or at least Elide could read the directions to a grumbling Lorcan, so Rowan spent the next half hour with other parts of the setup.

After he finished hanging up the screen they were going to use for the picture slideshow, Rowan went to check on the balloons.

He made it two steps out of the large gazebo and stopped in his tracks.

“What the fuck is this?” Rowan exclaimed, gaping at the large monstrosity in front of him.

Instead of looking at a beautiful, arched balloon canopy, he was looking at a massive, inflatable, child’s bouncy castle.

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck is this?’” Lorcan asked, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead and stepping around the side of the castle. “This is what you asked for.”

“This is not what I asked for.” Rowan could feel his mouth still hanging open and quickly shut it.

Elide looked at Rowan in confusion. “Rowan, you did ask for this. I mean, I definitely thought it was weird that Aelin would want a blow-up bounce house for her birthday, but when Lor asked if you were sure, you insisted it was right.”

Rowan tried to remember that particular conversation. He had so many details in his head and too many people in charge of different things.

“Shit.” The phone call was coming back to Rowan to now. “We kept getting cut off. Shit,” He ran an exasperated hand through his hair making it all stand up on end. He swung around towards Lorcan who looked at him with raised brows. “What did you think I was asking you to get?”

Lorcan slowly looked between the bouncy house and Rowan. “You asked me to get a Bounce Castle.”

For fucks sake.

“I asked you to get a Balloon Canopy.”

Elide’s mouth opened in an ‘O’ and Lorcan said nothing until a moment later he was laughing, bent over at the waist.

“You wanted balloons, and now Galathynius has a bounce castle.” He managed between breaths, ignoring Rowan’s fuming look. It took Elide elbowing him in the side to get him to stop laughing.

“I don’t have time for this. Fix this.” Rowan waved his arms around at the massive blow-up castle, and then he turned around to find something he could actually focus on, trying his best to ignore the increasingly greying clouds in the sky.

“You still paying?” Lorcan called after him.

He let out a string of curses. “Yes.”

Rowan just barely heard the sound of air being let out of the castle as he walked away.

***

A shriek drew Rowan’s attention away from the chairs he was unfolding. He turned towards the gazebo to see Lysandra throw a small ice bucket, mostly filled with water at this point, at the screen Rowan had set up earlier.

The screen that was on fire.

Running in to help, Rowan saw that the candles placed around it had been lit—why the hell would someone already light them? The wind must’ve blown the screen too close causing it to catch fire.

He reached Lysandra just as she threw another bucket of icy water on the screen, dousing the rest of the flames.

“Are you okay?” He looked over Lysandra, but she just seemed shocked and irritated.

“I’m fine.” She gave him a reassuring nod before scowling at the destroyed screen. “This, though, is pretty much dead.” she sighed and closed her laptop she was using to work on the slideshow. “It doesn’t look like we’ll be showing pictures today, Rowan.”

He rubbed at his face. Fine. Okay. He could deal with this. They had a children’s bounce house and no slideshow. That was fine. As long as nothing else went wrong, he could deal with it.

As if in response to his thought, the day began to dim as clouds moved to cover the sun. If Rowan didn’t look at the heavy clouds, they would disappear.

That was when Fenrys came back with the cake.

***

“Alien?! I can’t give my girlfriend a birthday cake that’s calling her an Alien!”

Fenrys almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous Rowan looked with his hair sticking up and face all red, but he knew this was just the latest in a list of ‘things gone wrong’ and was worried that if he laughed then he wouldn’t live to see the birthday girl.

“Maybe she’ll find it funny,” Fenrys suggested.

Rowan slowly turned toward him with an almost crazed look in his eye. “Funny? You think Aelin will find all this,” he waved his hands at the deflating bounce house, charred hanging screen, and the horribly incorrect cake, “Funny?”

“...Maybe?” Honestly, Fenrys thought Aelin would find it all hilarious but decided to keep his mouth shut. He knew how much work and energy Rowan put into this party, and he worried for his friend’s mental state as he counted all the things that had already gone wrong.

Rowan just dropped his head in his hands and groaned.

***

As soon as Rowan unpacked the last of the food, he heard a boom of thunder.

“This is not happening.” He muttered to himself, refusing to look at what was surely the worst thing that could happen that day.

A moment later he heard the unmistakable sound of hard, fast rain. The yelps from his friends broke him out of his haze and he turned to see everyone rush into the covered gazebo, careful to keep close to the center where they could stay dry.

Everyone besides Yrene, who had been helping Rowan with the food, were varying levels of soaked. And all the decorations they’d been holding were either stuck outside taking the worst of the rain or dragged inside to drip water onto the floor.

Rowan didn’t say anything, he just grabbed the beer bottle out of Aedion’s hand and took a long swig.

***

Looking around, Rowan surveyed the damage. Where a nice balloon canopy should’ve been positioned, a large, deflated, child’s bounce castle stood in its place; the screen he was going to use to show a slideshow of Aelin was burnt to a crisp; the rain pouring down was soaking the park and wrecking everything brought in from the cars, and the perfect cake for his girlfriend was ruined by calling her Alien.

But at least all their friends showed up.

That was the one good thing to come out of this disaster of a party. Even if they were all dripping wet and shivering from their walks from their cars to the covered gazebo in the middle of the park.

Dorian walked up to where Rowan and Aedion were talking about the cousin’s lunch. He took a sip of his drink and asked them, “So, what time is Aelin is getting here?”

Rowan and Aedion both turned towards each other.

“What time did you—”

“When did you say—”

They both froze.

Rowan slowly blinked. “Aedion, you did tell Aelin what time to come tonight, right?”

Aedion shook his head, wincing, “No, man. I was taking her out to lunch. You were supposed to find a reason to get her to the park.”

A dull roaring started in Rowan’s head. He thought over everything he had on his list.

Rent out gazebo: Check.

Delegate decorations: unsuccessful, but Check.

Order cake: again, unsuccessful, but Check.

Get friends to show up: Check.

Buy Aelin’s present: Check

Invite Aelin…

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck me. No, no, no, no, no… Gods damn it!”

Before anyone could another word, Rowan pulled his keys from his pocket and sprinted into the rain towards his car.

***

Aelin loved her birthday.

Usually.

She loved celebrating with her friends and laughing about the stupid gag gift they bought her. She loved making a wish on her candles and she even loved the awkward minute of listening to people sing happy birthday.

Last year, Rowan had woken her up to a particularly amazing round of birthday sex. Which turned into another round in the kitchen and then another one in the shower. He had also spent the day last year doing her favorite things and ending the night with a wonderful dinner at her favorite restaurant.

Which was why she had been so excited to see what this birthday would bring.

Her morning began exactly how she hoped: with Rowan’s tongue between her legs. He’d woken her up slowly, lazily, until she was squirming on the sheets with her hand fisted in his hair.

She’d hoped their morning tumble was the start of a very satisfying day, but soon afterward Rowan left saying he had to make a work call and she should get ready for her lunch with Aedion.

As much as she loved her cousin, all Aelin really wanted to do was stay inside with Rowan all day, clothing-optional. Actually, clothing-nonexistent.

But she did want to see Aedion, and apparently, Rowan’s work call was pressing enough that he practically ran out the door.

Lunch was nice. She hadn’t had one-on-one time with Aedion in a while, but she couldn’t help but notice how antsy he seemed.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She asked him after the waiter took their set down their drinks.

Her cousin choked on the sip he’d taken, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” He sputtered. “I’m not not telling you anything.”

“Uh huh.”

He rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing Ae, don’t sweat it.”

“It looks like you’re the one sweating Aedion.” Leaning back in her chair she smirked and crossed her arms. “Did you get me something you’re worried I won’t like?” she joked.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, exactly! Lysandra picked it out but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

Aelin rolled her eyes at her cousin. “Please, if Lys picked out whatever it is, then I’m sure I’ll love it.” Her smirk turned into a genuine smile. “But, it’s from you so I know I’ll like it.”

He laughed but she thought he still looked a bit anxious. Deciding not to worry about whatever else had him fidgety, she let it go.

When she got back to her and Rowan’s apartment, she expected he would be there. He wasn’t.

Aelin didn’t think a work call would take the two hours she’d been out with Aedion, so she hoped Rowan would be back soon. She hadn’t talked about plans today because last year he had been so eager to take the lead.

So she waited.

And waited.

Three hours later she was irate, hurt, and confused. How could he just up and disappear on her birthday? If he was busy—if something came up that he needed to deal with—he should’ve just told her. She still would be upset, but she’d have understood.

But he hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t called or texted. Rowan hadn’t given her any explanation as to why she was alone now on her birthday.

Aelin walked into the kitchen and was about to pour herself a glass of wine when she heard loud noises from the hall outside her apartment door. It sounded like heavy, stampeding footsteps.

And then Rowan was bursting into their apartment.

He was breathing heavily, soaking wet, and looking at her with such an apologetic expression that she momentarily forgot why she was angry.

“Aelin,” he panted, trying to get a breath, “I am so sorry.”

Right. That was why she was angry.

She crossed her arms over her chest and took in his disheveled appearance, trying desperately to understand why he was so out of sorts.

“What happened to you?”

Rowan loosed a long, heavy breath and stepped closer to her. “Aelin, gods, I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are.” She agreed. “But, explain to me why.”

Rowan took another step towards her and she let him.

“I had a whole thing planned— I still do, kind of, but it’s basically ruined at this point—” Rowan started talking faster and Aelin struggled to keep up. “I planned an amazing surprise party for you, I spent weeks getting things organized. I had all our friends come out to help, they’re all still out at the park—I rented out the park—they’d better all still be there, anyway.”

He took a breath and Aelin’s anger slowly started to fade, but then she remembered sitting alone in her apartment for three hours and stared at him until he continued his explanation.

“There were supposed to be balloons, golden ones! And photos of you, and a cake, but all of it got ruined.” Rowan ran an angry hand through his hair. “Lorcan thought I asked him for a bounce castle— a bounce castle! Then the screen caught on fire, and then there was a mess up with the cake that you don’t even want to know about.”

He finally looked back at her, pleadingly, hoping she could understand how sorry he was. “But the worst part, which was one-hundred-percent my fault, was that I forgot to invite you to your own party.”

Aelin was wide-eyed by the end of his speech. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Rowan grabbed her hand and looked down at her with sorry eyes. “Please, forgive me.”

“Forgive you?”

His face crumpled and he leaned to press it into her shoulder. She heard him grumble, “Fuck. I ruined your birthday, I’m so sorry.”

Aelin pulled away to hold his face between her hands. She waited until his eyes opened to say, “Rowan, you planned that whole thing? For me?”

His brow furrowed as if he couldn’t understand why she would ask that. “Of course, I did. I know how much you wanted a surprise party, but—”

“But nothing.” She cut him off pressing her mouth firmly against his. Rowan was too surprised at her reaction to reciprocate, but she pulled back just as fast.

“Okay, yes, not inviting me to my own party was a bad move,” He winced. “But, everything else you did was amazing.” When he still looked skeptically at her she continued, “the rest of that stuff; the weather, the cake, the fire, Lorcan’s bad judgment—none of that was your fault.”

Rowan finally cracked a smile at the last bit.

“So,” he searched her face for any clues, “you’re not upset?”

Aelin laughed at pulled Rowan down for another kiss. This time, he eagerly returned it and wrapped one arm around her waist and the other moved so his hand could hold the back of her head. They stood wrapped up in each other for a minute, deepening the kiss before they both pulled back for air.

“I’m not mad. I was, before when I thought you’d ditched me on my birthday. But I’m not anymore now that I know you spent the day trying to make me happy."

Aelin pulled back further to give him a stern look. “But I will be angry if you don’t bring me to this party right now.”

He pulled her back into him and let out a relieved laugh.

“Let’s get the birthday girl to her party.”

***

The drive from their apartment to the park was filled with Rowan telling Aelin about everything that had gone wrong. His fingers intertwined with her over the middle console and she listened as he told her about the crazy day.

“Why someone would light the candles so early in the day is beyond me.” He grumbled and Aelin chuckled at the bitterness in his tone.

“I’m sure the slideshow would’ve been great.” She perked up. “Oh my gods, that was why Aedion was so weird at lunch.”

Rowan glanced side longed at her. “He was weird?”

“Yeah, real fidgety, wouldn’t always look me in the eye. He said it was because he was worried I wouldn’t like my present, but I knew that was a load of bullshit.” She laughed, remembering how relived his face had been when she offered that excuse.

Rowan rolled his eyes but watched as the sky began to clear.

“Good, the rains finally stopping. I told the others to finish putting up decorations if the weather cleared.”

“There’s more?” Aelin questioned, thinking of everything he’d already told her about.

“A bit. I gave Fen a list of stuff to buy, but knowing him, he picked up some things that I didn’t tell him to. So, who knows what we’ll see when we get there.” He groaned thinking about it, but Aelin just laughed.

“It’s a couple of decorations, Ro. I’m sure they’ve got it handled.”

When they finally pulled into the parking lot nearest the gazebo, Aelin and Rowan didn’t get out of the cart immediately. They watched the scene in front of them in bewilderment

Lorcan was throwing a rope over a tree branch—Aelin assumed it was because he was the tallest—tying one end to the trunk and the other end was attached to a large pinata.

“Is that…?” She was so confused about what was happening.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Fen?” Rowan seethed.

“Fen did that? Why would Fenrys buy an Alien pinata?” Aelin suddenly had more questions than answers.

Rowan rubbed his hands down his face, muffling his curses.

“Don’t ask.”

Aelin watched as Aedion picked up the stick and took a couple of practice swings.

“What? They’re gonna start without us?” Aelin pulled Rowan’s hand off his face and made him look at her. “Hey. I know this didn’t go like you’d planned, but it's still pretty great, and everyone is here and having a good time. And there’s cake, right?”

“There’s cake.”

Rowan refrained from reminding her that all the guests had trekked in and out of the rain that afternoon setting up and half the supplies were ruined or nonexistent. Apparently, she could see all that in his face though so Aelin leaned over and kissed him.

“Let’s go, come on.”

At some point during their conversation, Lysandra had found the blindfold and tied it around Aedion’s head. The rest of the group, minus Manon and Dorian who had snuck off somewhere she didn’t want to think about too much, stood around as Fenrys cheered and Aedion swung.

He missed the first time, but as he prepped himself to swing again, Aelin and Rowan climbed out of the car and walked toward the group.

“Aelin!” Fenrys called, eyes going wide as he called her name.

Everyone else whipped around to face her and Rowan and yell “Surprise!”

Unfortunately, Aedion still had a stick in his hands; and he quickly turned, it nailed Fenrys in the head.

Rowan stood there gaping as Fenrys let out a loud sound between a yelp and a groan, before falling to the ground, knocked out.

“Shit! Who’d I hit?” Aedion asked as he ripped off the blindfold, and tuned to see what—or, who—exactly he had swung at.

Mostly in shock, a little bit in amusement, everyone watched as Fenrys slowly groaned, lifted his head only to wince and bring his hand up to hold it, and opened his eyes.

“…Surprise”

***

“You know, this may be my most memorable birthday.” Aelin was perched on Rowan’s lap, eating a piece of the outer space-themed cake.

Her boyfriend groaned and pressed his face into her shoulder.

“I’ll take it. Memorable is better than disastrous.”

She threw her head back and laughed.

After Fenrys woke up, Yrene came over to check on him and make sure he was going to be alright. She didn’t think he had a concussion, but she put Aedion in charge of watching him. His punishment, apparently. They were currently at another table with Lysandra, Lorcan, and Elide.

Aelin looked over to the other end of the gazebo and watched as Chaol and Yrene sat with Dorian and Manon, the latter was trying her best to pretend she was interested in the conversation. By the heated looks she and Dorian were giving each other, Aelin didn’t think those two would be sticking around too long.

Turning back to Rowan, Aelin smiled.

“Thank you, Buzzard. I love it.” She grinned as he rolled his eyes, but he tightened his grip on her and pulled her face down to his.

“Happy Birthday, Fireheart.”

*****

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featherymalignancy · 3 years

Text

How About a Hug, Hm? REMIX

So a few days ago I got this ask about my Elriel one-shot “How About A Hug?” because I messed up the formatting and I you basically have to to read it as a reblog. I also was really unsatisfied with the end result.

So, I did the most Feathery™️ thing every and REWROTE THE WHOLE GODDAMN THING.

Please enjoy, and know that I will go back and tag people/clean up formatting tomorrow. Right now I just need to post and 😴

——————————————————

Elain Archeron was running late.

Granted, it was only by seven minutes, which—in many social circles—was still considered well within the accepted boundaries of punctuality.

The problem was that a) being late made Elain anxious, and b) there was absolutely nothing polite about Nesta Archeron when she was made to wait, even by her own kin.

Yet another reason it had been critical that Elain arrive on time: Nesta was already likely to be somewhat hacked off when she saw what Elain was wearing tonight, and Elain had hoped to avoid any further dramatics on her elder sister’s part.

She spent half the cab ride downtown trying to convince herself that it was fine that she’d borrowed something out of Nesta’s closet (even if it had been without permission) and that she hadn’t had a choice; she simply didn’t own anything appropriate for dinner at a four-star restaurant. However, by the time the cab slithered under Trump Tower’s unsavory shadow and into Hell’s Kitchen, she’d given up pretending.

The truth was she had half a dozen cocktail dresses that would have been perfectly suitable for dinner in the West Village, even if the place they were going was one of the nicest sushi restaurants in the city. No, Elain had raided Nesta’s closet for a far more embarrassing reason: she’d been in search of a dress she hoped might finally win her Azriel’s attention.

She wasn’t proud of the absurd crush she had on the guy, but it really couldn’t be helped. He was gorgeous, and smart, and darkly funny when he wanted to be, and she’d been secretly mooning over him since they’d met through Feyre’s fiancée three years ago. God, what she wouldn’t give to have him return even a fraction of her feelings.

Apparently not her dignity, Elain thought with a glance down at her neckline.

The worst part was that Azriel seemed oblivious to her interest in him. He was always polite to her, always made a point to talk to her when he caught her hiding out on the balcony during one of Feyre and Rhys’s crazy parties or sit next to her at their big family dinners, but he’d never once given her any indication that he was in any way that he reciprocated her feelings, which should have been reason enough for Elain to pack it in and stop harassing him.

And that was to say nothing of Mor.

Mor was the friend who’d first introduced Feyre and Rhys, and from what Elain could gather, she and Azriel had a long and complicated history. It didn’t seem to matter that Mor had been dating the same girl for over a year now. When she was in the room, Az’s eyes were always on her. Not that Elain blamed him—Mor was gorgeous in a way girls like her could only dream of being. Still, there was no denying the sting of watching the guy you were interested in pine over someone else.

Given all this, Elain wasn’t really sure why she’d gone to such lengths to dress up for this dinner. Mor would surely be there wearing something incredible and couture, thereby rendering everyone else invisible to Azriel. Still, Elain was a hopeless optimist, and she’d stubbornly sold herself on the idea that if she found the perfect dress, she could finally convince Azriel that she was a woman worthy of affection, rather than Nesta’s bookish, boring little sister.

She had to admit, there was nothing bookish about her tonight. The dress was tighter on her that it was her waifish sister, and dear god it deserved a Medal of Honor for the way it managed to keep her boobs looking so perky even without a bra. She didn’t suppose Nesta would be too happy about that bit, either, so she could only hope her sister was in a good mood by the time Elain arrived.

Just then Elain’s phone buzzed, and she looked down at it and groaned. It was from Nesta.

Where the 🤬 are you?

Running late, Elain quickly typed back. Is everyone waiting?

She watched the gray ellipsis pulse at Nesta responded.

Feyre and Rhys aren’t even fucking here yet. But hurry up, Cash is already driving me insane.

Elain rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure who Nesta thought she was fooling when she and Elain shared a bedroom wall. Nesta and Cassian, Rhys’s other best friend, ended up banging almost every time they saw each other, which—since Rhys and Feyre had gotten engaged four months ago—was fairly frequently. In fact, Cash was at their apartment making Nesta scream so often that Elain had been forced to invest in earplugs and a sound machine. From Elain’s perspective, it seemed rather pointless of Nesta to pretend she wasn’t completely hot of a guy she called “Daddy” in bed.

Elain shuddered at the thought, hoping that Nesta would end up going to Cash and Az’s loft in Williamsburg tonight instead. Though, she realized glumly, they only ever seemed to go there when Azriel was out, and the only person who seemed able to keep Azriel out later than Cash was Mor. That meant Elain’s options were either to pop an Ambien and hope for the best, or stay out and watch Az make moon eyes at Mor all night. Neither one was particularly appearing.

Elain ignored Nesta’s text as the car pulled up outside the restaurant and she wiggled out, smoothing the back of her tight dress before giving her curls what she hoped was an artful tousle before slipping inside.

Elain’s heart felt into her stomach as she took in the elegant but understated interior of the famed Sushi Nakazawa. Given the prices, she’d assumed the place would be all black granite and swanky chandeliers—the kind of place cleavage like hers wouldn’t seem out of place. Instead the place was elegantly spare and distressingly well-lit. God, she was such a prize idiot.

Unfortunately, she was also out of time, because a quick survey of the interior found that her group was already gathered at the bar, Mor, Feyre, and Rhys having showed up in the interim between Nesta’s text and Elain’s arrival.

Elain’s eyes went to Mor first, who stunned in a cardinal red lace and net sheath. It clung to her frame like it had been made for her, and despite a latent jealous she couldn’t quite contain, she was relieved to find that she at least wouldn’t look overdressed.

Elain’s stomach only wended in a tighter knot when Mor’s eyes fell on her and lit up, a reminder that not only was Mor prettier, she was also an infinitely better person than Elain.

“There she is!” Mor beamed, coming forward and hugging Elain. “I love that dress, Ellie!”

Elain braced herself for Nesta’s inevitably remark, but it was actually Cash who reacted first.

He’d opened his mouth to comment seemingly before he’d actually looked at Elain, because the second he realized what exactly she was wearing, his eyes they snapped the ceiling, as if looking at her chest directly might turn him to stone.

“Whoa, El, all dressed up tonight!”

Nesta, wholly unmoved by his attempted chivalry, elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don’t be vulgar Cassian!” She snarled before narrowing her eyes. “And that’s mine!”

Cash smirked, seeming more at ease now that Nesta was his target.

“I knew I’d seen that bef—ow! Goddamnit woman, what was that for?”

He scowled down at the dangerous stiletto Nesta had just jammed into his toe box.

“Sorry,” she cast over her shoulder, not deigning to look at him. “Did I accidentally step on your foot?”

“I’m an adult,” Elain interjected, cheeks burning as she faced her sister down. “Stop acting like I’ve fourteen and stuffing my bra.”

“They’re just boobs, Nes,” Rhys added, arm slung over Feyre’s shoulder. “Relax.”

“Watch it,” Nesta warned him, but Feyre only laughed.

“I agree!” She said, turning to smile at Elain. “And I think they look amazing.”

“If I’d have known they were going to be such a topic of conversation,” Elain mumbled, grateful Azriel wasn’t here to witness this circus. “I would have worn something else.”

“No, I’m with Feyre,” Mor said, wicked grin forming. “Breasts that nice deserve to be shown off.”

Elain wasn’t so humble that she didn’t feel herself preening a bit at that comment, even if she was still flustered by the prolonged attention. Either way, she was grateful when Cash interrupted with a somewhat sheepish laugh.

“Teenage me would be furious if he heard me say this, but can we please stop talking about boobs?”

“Elain’s boobs or just any boobs?” Feyre said with a smirk.

However, before Elain could admonish her for it, Feyre was crushing her into a hug.

“Hey you,” she said, wrapping her arms and Elain’s neck and whispering in her ear, “let me and Rhys know if you wanna stay at our place tonight; Cash already grabbed Nesta’s ass twice when she thought we weren’t looking.”

Feyre indicated the mirror behind the bar with her eyes as they pulled away, and sure enough, Elain watched Cash’s hand as it drew lazy, dangerous circles just above the swell of Nesta’s well-formed behind.

Elain groaned, hugging Rhys now as well. God , her sister was such a hypocrite sometimes.

Ignoring a lingering twinge of annoyance, Elain forced herself to glance in false realization before casually asking, “So where’s the Birthday Boy?”

“He was on his phone out back,” Rhys said, before raising a hand in greeting to someone over Elain’s shoulder. “There he is.”

Elain tried not to look to eager as she turned and drank in all six feet four inches of perfection that was Azriel Macar. He was dressed all in black, from his prada boots to the soft, expensive t-shirt fitted enough to show off his toned physique. Elain honestly had to fight not to swoon as he ran an effortless hand through his glossy sable hair, the longer pomaded pieces on top stand up for a second before falling into an artful tousle.

“Hey Ellie,” he said, gaze on her and gone so quickly that he never even had time to notice her much-discussed cleavage. Instead, his eyes flicked to Mor and held for a long, meaningful beat before he turned back to Elain and added politely, “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” she chirped, trying to ignore the fact that he was coming closer, and that in another second she’d be able to smell that divine Givenchy cologne he always wore. “Of course!“

She bent her head, pretending to be fixing the clasp on her bracelet as his scent hit her and she had to bite back a groan. Sweet Jesus, he smelled good. When she looked up again, everyone else was shuffling to their table and Azriel was lingering, a soft smile threatening to the reveal the absolutely devastating dimples in both his cheeks.

“Do I get a hug?” He asked. “It is my birthday after all.”

He extended his arms, and she gave a nervous laugh, accepting the gesture by stringing her arms around his neck.

“Of course,” she repeated stupidly, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he embraced her. “Happy Birthday.”

At this he squeezed her a little tighter and she fought off genuine giddiness.

It was a friendly gesture, she warned herself, and it ended the minute Mor called, “Az, come sit by me.”

Elain cleared her throat as he pulled away, turning to where Mor was still beckoning. However, before Elain could get too flustered, he turned back to her.

“Shall we?” he said, indicating Elain go ahead of him. To her delight, they reached the table to find that the only two seats left were next to each other. She tried not to give her eagerness too much leash as he pulled out her chair for her before sinking into the one between she and Mor. Mor leaned over to give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he flushed.

“Where’s Emmy tonight?” Feyre asked as Mor tried to wipe the lipstick from Az’s copper skin and he battered her away, like child trying to fend off an over-bearing mother.

“She’s sick, poor little thing,” Mor said, giving a tiny pout. “She hasn’t been able to get out of bed in days.”

Elain didn’t bother to her disappointment. Emerie had been one of Nesta’s best since they’d met in college almost ten years ago, and she not only was she like family to the Archerons, she also happened to be the only person in the group who knew about Elain’s crush. Elain had sworn her to secrecy at the time, and though it would have been reasonable to assume that once Emmy knew, Mor would know, Elain appreciated that she could trust Emerie to keep her secret.

Elain felt Emerie’s absence keenly and Nesta and Cash began bantering back and forth at lightning speed. Emerie was a master at slowing the tempo of Nesta’s quick wit, making it easier for Elain in particular to feel she could keep up.

More selfishly, Elain also missed Emerie’s ability to keep Mor distracted. When Emmy was around, she was all Mor could focus on. However, in her absence Mor’s attention had reverted almost completely to Az, a fact he didn’t seemed to mind a single bit, if his growing smiles were any indication.

Still, he seemed to be going out of his way to make sure Elain didn’t get lost in the chaos of conversation surging around them, even if he never looked at her for more than a moment or two before his eyes flicked back to Mor, studying her dark brown eyes and crimson lips.

After they placed their drink orders and the waiter came over to begin explaining the omakase menu, Elain wondered if she had time to dodge under the table to throw on some lipstick of her own. Assuring herself everyone was suitably distracted she bent down, hastily uncapping the tube before looking up just in time to see Nesta brush a very deliberate hand between Cassian’s splayed quads.

Elain jerked back, banging her head on the table.

“Fuck!” she swore quietly, straightening and rubbing her head.

Nesta shot her an alarmed look across the table and Elain flushed.

“All you alright?” Azriel asked, and she tried not to bleat in excited panic as his fingers brushed the back of her head. “What happened?”

“I—dropped something,” she fumbled, cursing her sister for being such a salacious wench.

Wasn’t it enough that she and Cash were already going to keep her up all night? Did she really have to make Elain look silly in front of Azriel, too?

“Does it hurt?” Azriel said, still studying her head before letting his eyes go to the server. “Do you need ice?”

“No, no,” Elain said hurriedly, trying to regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

“Did you at least find whatever you were looking for?” Mor asked, and Elain’s flush deepened.

“And then some,” she grumbled to herself, and Cassian gave a quiet but unmistakable laugh before letting out a surprised exhale. Elain had a fairly good idea what Nesta was squeezing to shut him up.

“Should we order, then?” Mor asked, hand falling onto Azriel’s arm. “Any particular requests, Birthday Boy?”

“He’s thirty now,” Rhys pointed out. “I think that makes him a Birthday Man .”

“Birthday Old Man,” Cassian amended. “Don’t worry champ, I’ve already put some viagra in your bathroom.”

“You’re not supposed to share your prescriptions, Cash,” Azriel said with mirth, eyes sparkling even as his face remained neutral. “And besides, I would feel dead back if you needed one tonight and couldn’t find them.”

“Checkmate,” Mor purred as Cash flipped her off.

Beside Azriel, Elain was fighting not to blush again. Cash’s comment, however sophomoric and lewd, had her imagining what Azriel was like in bed. She wondered for a moment if Mor knew before dismissing the thought and the twinge it induced.

“Let’s put this poor souls out of his misery and order,” Feyre said, smiling at the server where he still waited patiently. “Maybe if Cash’s mouth is full, he’ll stop talking.”

Cassian grinned, and, after placing their requests for the chef’s tasting menu, they all settled into an easy conversation. Cash and Rhys regaled them with stories of Azriel at various ages, from the gawky child he’d been when they’d first met him to the shy teenager who’d been terrified of girls.

“Let him be,” Mor said, touching her friend’s shoulder. “He was sweet in high school!”

Rhys laughed.

“It took him a year to pluck up the courage to say three words to you,” he pointed out.

“And they were ‘here’s a pen’ in response to you asking him the time. Nice work, Shakespeare,” Cash said, attempting to muss Azriel’s perfectly styled hair before being batted away.

“I can’t imagine Az ever being awkward,” Elain blurted. “I bet girls thought he was mysterious and cool.“

“See?” Azriel said, gesturing to Elain. “This is why I sat over here.”

“Oh please ,” Rhys said, bubbling his lips. “Ellie’s just being polite. If you two had known each other in high school, we all know how to would’ve gone: you’d have had an obscene crush on her and your dreams of true love would have been dashed after she politely signed your yearbook ‘have a good summer, Adrian’, leaving you heartbroken and alone.”

Azriel gave Elain a soft smile, and her heart burst open as thousands of butterflies flitted out of it.

“I hate to say it, but he’s probably right,” he told her. “I assume high school Elain was very popular.”

“She was,” Feyre said. “Eight different guys asked her to prom.”

“I’m not surprised,” Az said, and Elain made a great show out of drinking out of her masu to avoid having to answer.

She was relieved when the food began arriving to distract everyone, if only to save her the temptation of telling Azriel that there was no universe in which she wouldn’t have been into him, high schoolers or no.

Instead discussion turned to the Feyre and Rhys’s wedding as they ate, and as final plates were being cleared, Cash took the opportunity to once again mocked Azriel for the fact the latter had lost the rock-paper-scissors competition to be Rhys’s best man.

“I lost on purpose,” he told Elain quietly, taking a sip of the Yamasaki Single Malt he’d ordered after dinner.

“Why?” she laughed, following his gaze across the table to where Cash and Nesta were now bickering about whether Rhys’s stag night in Vegas would be better than Feyre’s hen do in Napa.

“Because Rhys told me that you’d convinced Feyre to pick Nesta as her maid of honor, and no offense, but your sister terrifies me. I’d much rather be with you.”

She laughed, biting her lip. It felt so terribly like they were flirting, but she couldn’t decide if it was her imagination or not.

“She terrifies everyone,” Elain said. “And I have a feeling this won’t our last trip down the aisle together.”

Azriel only quirked a bemused brow at this, which had Elain flushing scarlet.

“Not like that! She laughed, fumbling to pretend the idea of them being together was absurd rather than her heart’s desire. "I meant for Cash and Nesta’s wedding. Don’t tell me those two aren’t going to end up together.”

“We’ll have to work out a custody agreement when they finally get over themselves and start dating properly,” he agreed. “I’m spending a fortune on earplugs.”

She laughed, and he seemed warmed by the gesture, because he flashed a modest—albeit dimpled—smile being turning back to the larger conversation.

After dinner they’d gone a cocktail bar, then an Irish pub, and finally—much to Azriel’s chagrin—a karaoke bar. Rhys and Cash spend the majority of the evening trying to wrestle Azriel on stage while Mor and Feyre sang duets to Beyoncé and Spice Girls.

Elain was content enough to sit back and simply observe the scene as it unfolded around her. It was hard to contain her giddy, dreadful anticipation when Mor left around one to check on Emerie and Azriel—besides bidding her farewell with a soft kiss on the cheek—didn’t move a muscle.

Less than an hour later, Cash and Nesta both disappeared about an hour after without so much as a goodbye. Elain groaned, hoping they’d be asleep by the time she got home.

She’d have to rally if she wanted to manage it; they would be at it for hours yet.

By three the place was clearing out, and besides them, only a few tables of marathon drinkers and a girl on stage performing a beautiful rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” remained.

“We’re gonna go,” Rhys said, arm slung around a rather drunk, giggling Feyre. “Ellie, do you want to come with us?”

Elain glanced at Azriel, who’s glass still had two fingers of whiskey in it. If she wanted a chance to be alone with him, this was it.

“I think I’ve got one more in me,” she said, smiling.

“If you mean drink, I’m in,” Azriel said.

“Oh c’mon, brother,” Rhys goaded. “Just one song. I wouldn’t even film it….much.”

“Do Beyoncé!” Feyre chimed in, and Azriel shook his head.

“You know I’d play in traffic before I ever sang karaoke,” Azriel said mildly, making Feyre laugh. "Thanks for coming.”

He rose, embracing Rhys and pressing a kiss on Feyre’s head.

“C’mon, my little drunkard,” Rhys told her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Let’s have sex when we get home,” Feyre said, her attempted whisper fully audible. Rhys pretended smack his forehead with his palm and a mimed, “ Oh brother ”, to Azriel and Elain before coax a still-singing Feyre outside.

Azriel chuckled before draining the last of his drink and rising. Elain pretended not to notice the way his well-tailored jeans fit his lean legs and…other parts of his anatomy as he adjusted his belt buckle and glanced down at her.

“Bud Light?” he asked, and she nodded, bobbing to her feet as well.

If she wanted a way to get closer to him that was more elegant than her increasing urge to crawl across the table and into his lap, this was certainly it.

“I’ll come with you.”

He flashed her a modest smile before indicating she lead the way. He ordered and waved off Elain’s attempt to pay before leaning on the bar to avoid towering over her. The gesture brought them nearly eye-to-eye, and Elain had to actively fight not to let hers roll back in pleasure at the bergamot and amyris wood notes in his sinful cologne. Up close Elain could see how much green he had in his hazel irises, and she wanted to tip into them and swim until she drowned.

“Did you have fun?” she said, desperate to get the conversation flowing again, and he smiled, making her stomach flop.

“I did, yeah,” he said, glancing around the bar in bemusement, as if still wondering how he’d ended up there. “Thank you for coming.”

Elain shrugged, grinning.

“You say that like you didn’t think I’d show,” she said, resting a cheek in her hand. She knew by now her expression was not her less than a swoon, though she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Hadn’t been this been her plan all along? Finally get Az’s attention long enough to tell him how she felt? Now was the best chance she’d probably ever get.

“No, I figured would,” Az said, interrupting her reverie. “Or hoped you would, whatever.”

Was that—

Did that mean what she thought it did?

Normally she would have chalked it up to wishful thinking, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck, dimples appearing as he huffed what almost sound like a sheepish laugh, had hope igniting in her chest.

“What does that mean?” she pressed, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

For the first time all night, he didn’t look away. Instead, his eyes skated back and forth across her face, as if she were a riddle he only had seconds to memorize. She watched, transfixed, as he wet his plush lower lip with his tongue before biting it almost self-consciously.

“It means I’m glad you came,” he admitted. “And that you didn’t go home with your sister and Rhys.”

It wasn’t the confirmation she’d been hoping for, and the ambiguity of the statement had her conviction waning. That could just as easily have been mean platonically, and if she pushed him and ruined things between them by making it awkward—

“Of course I’d be here for your birthday,” she said, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “That’s what friends are for.”

She couldn’t help the way her voice got stuck on the word, not when her throat suddenly began to clog with tears.

She had to get out of here, right now. Before she started crying and made things worse. She made to retract her hand but Azriel grabbed it, grip gentle but intent.

“El, don’t go,” he said, and she was surprised at the frank discontent in his normally-impassive expression.

She waited for him to explain himself before instead he let out another strained laugh, grip on her wrist easing. However, he didn’t let go entirely, choosing to intertwine their fingers instead.

Holding hands.

She and Az were holding hands.

And he—

She glanced back up to find he was studying her again, his face a mixture of terror and delight. When she gave his hand a soft squeeze, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Jesus, I am bad at this,” he said, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear. She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but she thought his gaze flicked down to her lips as he continued to study her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Bad at what?” She asked, though she’d begun to suspect she knew exactly what, even if it seemed too good to be true.

“At least my timeline is improving,” he breathed instead. “And I haven’t offered you a pen you didn’t ask for yet.”

Hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation, she let her finger trail down to trace the circular buckle of his Gucci before glancing back up at him and purring, “Do you have a pen?”

He smirked before raising his right wrist and glancing at his watch face over her shoulder.

“It’s….3:17 am,” he said, smile spreading as she gave a low sound of approval and flicked her gaze to his lips.

“Smooth,” she said, and tried not to lose her mind as he let his raised hand fall to the back of her neck and bent to kiss her.

He had almost girlishly full lips, and they opened for her as they settled into the kiss. Immediately his hand tangled in her hair so he could alter her head position slightly and get a proper taste of her. She groaned into his mouth he pulled at her lower lip with his teeth. He tasted like oranges and the expensive Japanese whiskey he’d been drinking all night, and pleasure tightened in her low belly as his tongue brushed hers. Her brought his free hand up to cradle her face, and in response she pushed closer to run her hands underneath of his shirt and down the silken skin of his back.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a heated half-laugh, nose brushing her cheek as he bowed into her touch. “You’re killing me, woman.”

She only smirked, feeling more confident now that she had before. She could hardly believe this was happening, but she was too excited about it to fully care.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and he bit his lip, as if restraining himself from kissing her again.

“Like to another bar?” he asked, dazed as he continued to stare at her lips.

“Like to my bed,” she said boldly. “Or yours, depending on where Cassian and Nesta ended up.”

He didn’t speak immediately, just studied her, and she panicked.

“I mean, only if you—I’m sorry, should I not have—?“

He only kissed her again in response, more gently this time.

“Please stop apologizing,” he said, kissing her jaw now before seeming to realize something and pulling back, brows synced.

“I—Jesus, do you seriously not know?”

She felt a bit sheepish at his incredulous tone and fought not to stiffen.

“Know what?”

He laughed softly, though their was a edge of self-deprecation in it that kept the gesture from seeming conscending.

“I really am the worst at this.”

“At what?”

“El, I’ll crazy about you. I have been crazy about you since we met.”

“You have?” she blurted, horror fading into genuine—if elated—confusion.

He laughed.

“Did you think it was coincidence that you and I are always sitting next to each other at dinner? That I always find you at Rhys’s dumb parties?”

“I—“ she began, still trying to decide if this was a dream or not. “What about Mor, though?”

“Mor?” he repeated, confused now, too. “What about her?”

“I thought you and she—“

He leaned in to brush his nose against hers, and she blushed at the innocent affection in the gesture.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I did have a thing for her in high school, but I got over it after she and Cash slept together at prom. We’re just friends, I swear.”

“But she’s always touching you, and every time I see you together you can’t stop looking at her.”

At this he laughed, his smile so genuine and open she almost didn’t recognize him.

“She’s always been touchy-feely,” he said. “She grew up in Madrid, and people are just more affectionate there, I guess. And I only watch her when you’re around because she called me out for having an absurd crush on you, and I was afraid she was going to get drunk and blow my cover by telling you.”

Elain shook her head, still not quite believing what she was hearing. Reading her expression, he bent to kiss her softly.

“What guy wouldn’t be crazy about you?” he breathed. “You’re incredible.”

This seemed to break the spell, and she twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for another steamy kiss.

“Text Cash,” she said a little breathlessly when they broke away. “I don’t want an audience.”

She couldn’t felt but feeling smug when he almost dropped his phone at those words. It felt good to know that she wasn’t the only one affected by all this.

“Cash and Nesta are at the lof—“ Az began after a minute, but Elain cut him off with a kiss.

H rose, pulling her against him as his tongue brushed the roof of her mouth.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he said as she kissed his neck and tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, earning a low groan. “You’ve been drinking.”

She grabbed his chin so he would look at her.

“Not that much,” she said, and it was true. “And besides, I wanted this way before tonight.“

“Good,” he breathed, pressing a hand to her low back to bring her close to him. “Because so have I.”

Though they spent the majority of the ride up town and the elevator up to her apartment making out, something seemed to shift as Elain’s door clicked shut behind him, as if the gravity of what they were about to do had finally caught up to them.

Reluctantly Az peeled his lips from where they’d been glued to her neck as he took a small step back, as if to give her space.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, feeling embarrassed for how much she still wanted him even now that he seemed to have come to his senses.

“Maybe we should—” he broke off, looking somewhat guilty. “Hold off.”

She nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay again.

“Are you worried this could mess things up in the group? Because I understand—“

“No,” he said hurriedly, coming forward again, as if he could no longer stand to be away. “Not at all. I just—you’re special, El. You deserve to be taken out and spoiled.”

“Az, you just took us to a $1,800 dinner! Or did you think I didn’t see you pulling our server aside?”

Azriel opened his mouth, and she covered it with a finger.

“You don’t need to earn my affection. It’s yours already, free of charge.”

“I’ve just been—I waited so long to make my move and I’m terrified of fucking it up,” he said with a soft laugh.

“Why, are you bad at sex?”

Azriel laughed, seemed to relax at her teasing.

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he breathed again her lips, kissing her deeply again.

She gently bit his lower lip in response.

“Then I’d say you’ve gotten nothing to worry about,” she said, kissing him a third time.

She moaned softly when drove his fingers into her hair, hips canting towards her as he pressed her more fully into the door.

She could feel his body’s reaction to her pressing between her thighs, and she moaned again.

“Fuck,” he breathed onto her skin. “You are so gorgeous.”

“So are you,” she said, running her hands up the back of his t-shirt and feeling the mosaic of muscles flexing underneath. “Take this off.”

He laughed and pulled the offending garment over his head, making her groan in delight.

“God, this body ,” she breathed, running a hand down his chest and enjoying his shiver at her delicate touch.

He responded by spinning her away from him and gently dragging down the zipper of her dress until he could slip a hand inside of it.

“I knew you couldn’t have a bra on underneath this thing,” he said, voice a touch smug as he cupped both bare breasts and her breath caught in her throat..

“I’m surprised you even noticed,” she said, voice somewhat. “I wore this dress for you, and you didn’t even look at it once the entire evening.”

She laughed, the sound into a soft moan as he twisted one nipple in experimentation. When she sighed and let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Of course I noticed the dress,” he corrected. “You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. I just knew that if I let myself look, I might not be able to stop looking.”

“You shouldn’t say that until you’ve seen them without the sorcery of underwire,” she said.

With that he spun her to face him, catching her gaze to ensure he had her permission before tugging down the top of the dress so her breasts fell free.

“Gorgeous,” he said, easing to his knees so he could replace his fingers with his mouth. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“If I known this was going to be your reaction, I would have worn a bodycon dress in front of you ages ago,” she said, threading her hands through his hair as he dragged his teeth and tongue along her nipple.

“You don’t need some tight dress to be sexy,” he said, resting his chin her her sternum so he could gaze up at her. “I’d take you in your overalls and pigtail braids any day.”

“Is this some Pippy Longstocking fetish we should all know about?”

He grinned, rising to his feet and giving one of her curls a playful tug.

“Because as devastating as you are playing dress up in your sister’s clothes, I prefer you as you.”

“You can’t say that when I’m naked,” she said with a smile, touching his cheek.

“Why not?”

“Because I may start crying and ruin the mood.”

He cocked his head to the side, tracing her lips with a finger.

“I wouldn’t mind a few tears from you in bed. But only if it’s from you sobbing in pleasure.”

His words sent blood pooling south, the intensity cause a dull throbbing.

“Why do I feel like you could do it, too?” She asked, reaching down to free his belt as he heeled out of his boots.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, taking her hand and guiding it between his legs. “Forget this,” he said, squeezing gently so she could feel how hard he was. “I could go down on your all night and be the happiest guy on Earth.”

Emerie had said as much once, at a drunken girls’ night.

Azriel strikes me as the type of guy who loves eating girls out. It’s why gay women find him so easy to befriend; we recognize kindred spirit.

Elain vowed to never tell the others she’d been right.

“Will you let me?” He asked, gently nudging her dressing off her hips until it came free and pooled at her feet.

“Is this a trick question?” She said, voice going hoarse as he slipping a hand into her underwear.

“Some people don’t like it.”

“I’m not one of them,” she said, he smiled, coaxing her legs around his waist so he could carry her.

“Thank God,” he replayed. “That would break my heart. Which way?”

She pointed him in the right direction before giving into temptation and kissing him again, looking to way she could feel like body reacting to hers as he held her close. Only when they reached her room—which was decidedly messier than she’d have liked considering Azriel Macar was now in it—did he set her down.

He wasted no time into coaxing her onto the bed, taking only a moment to admire the silky black thong she wore before dragging into down her thighs and discarding it.

“Spread your legs for me, El,” he said, brushing kisses to her knee as she slowly did as he commanded.

The light from the nearby street lamp made the room a lot less dark than Elain was used to during sex, and for a moment she though to be embarrassed or postpone. Then she glanced down to admire the contrast of Azriel’s inky black hair framed against the pale skin of her thighs, and she forgot what it even meant to be self-conscious as he finally put him mouth on her.

She swore at the first brush of his tongue, which was both deliberate and extremely delicate. She threaded a hand through his hair at his second stroke, the touch more intentional this time.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

She watched the muscles in his beautiful back shift at this, as if hearing her moan his name had untethered something in him. When he put his mouth back on her, it was clear he was no longer attempted to tease her. Instead he felt right to where she needed him most, refusing to relent until she tipped over the edge.

Even then he didn’t seem satisfied, it and it was only after he made her come a second time did he pull back, licking his lips before bending to kiss her.

“Take your pants off,” she demanded. "Right now.”

She felt him grinning against her neck as he peeled off of her, slowly working the buttons of his pants before sliding them down his trim hips. He wore black boxer briefs underneath, and he honestly looked like an Armani model. She bit her lip, eying the sizable swell of him through the cotton.

“Those too,” she breathed, greedily drinking in his well-defined adonis belt and the bare trace of hair above the band.

He did as she commanded, and she nearly melted. Naked he was a God, all rippling muscles and smooth unblemished skin, save for the chest piece tattoo that extended onto his shoulders and halfway down his arms. She let her eyes sink lower. Even half-hard he was big, and her belly clenched.

Wasting no time, she urged him to take her place on the bed before kneeling at his feet and putting her mouth on it.

“Shit,” he hissed, driving a hand into his hand then down his face. “Ellie, you’re kiling me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, and he growled in approval, seeming to decide something before breaking her grip on him and hauling her to her feet. He kissed her again, and she could feel his cock as it practically pulsed between them.

She still wasn’t sure she could believe it was for her, that somehow he wanted her as much as she did him, and had for almost as long.

“Condoms,” he breathed against her mouth. “I need to be inside of you.”

She froze.

“I don’t have any,” she said, dismayed.

How could she be so stupid? Why didn’t they stop on the way home? The closest bodega was six blocks, and she knew everyone who worked there. The last thing she needed was all of them knowing—

Azriel pressed a swift kiss to her lips before tangling from her.

“Where are you going?”

“To grab a condom.”

“Naked?

He flashed her a slight grimace, “Let’s agree you won’t ask where I get it from.”

“Oh Moses,” Elain said, face flushing scarlet as she listened to Nesta’s door creaking open.

Azriel was back in less than a minute, tossing an entire box onto the nightstand as he pulled open one of the foils with his teeth, using his free hand to push his damp hair, long enough to brush his cheekbones now that it wasn’t styled, out of his eyes.

“You found those distressingly fast,” Elain said, unsure if she was amused or mortified at the situation.

“Cash is predictable with his hiding spots,” Az said, eyes hooded as he stroked himself several times before rolling the condom onto his length.

“And why did you take the whole box?”

Azriel laughed softly.

“Because I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”

Without another word Az sank to his knees again, one hand lazily stroking himself to maintain his erection as he went down on her again.

This time it only last three seconds or so before he pulled back, resting one knee beside her hip to steady himself before pulling her onto his shaft in a single wet stroke. Using her left bent leg as leverage, he adjusted his angle, smirking at her low, guttural moan of pleasure.

“Good to know your g-spot is as sensitive as the rest of you,” he breathed, and she laughed and tugged him into an ambitious rhythm.

Soon the only sound was their shared breathing, and the sliding on their bodies against one another. She came first, and he followed even before the dizzying waves of pleasure ceased. He pumped lazily in and out of her for another half dozen stroke before gently extracting from her and peeling off the condom.

She curled against him, cheek pressed to chest as her hands continued to explore. Her fingers caressed his swelling pectorals and each of his abdominal muscles before lazily venturing back between his legs. He gave a hiss of pleasure as she began to work his silken shaft in earnest, and in minutes he was fully ready again.

He groaned when she snatched one of the condoms and rolled it onto him before swinging a leg over and sinking astride him.

Her third orgasm hit her only a short time later, and she sighed when he bucked up into her before going languid under her ministrations.

She leaned down to kiss him as he ran a soothing hand down her back.

“Jesus,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers and swirling his hips, still inside her despite his orgasm. “That was incredible.”

She purred her contentment, feeling something even more alluring than desire swell in her chest as he discarded the second condom and tugged her into his arms, tangling their legs. He still smelled like cologne, but it had mixed with her perfume, and sweat, and the scent was intoxicating. She wanted to bath in it—in him—until she died from bliss. She listened to his breathing even out, and as she was drifting off to bed, he felt his breath ruffle her hair.

“Do you like pancakes?” he murmured. “I want to make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Really?” she said, looking at him over a shoulder and melting at the warmth in his smile, less guarded now than it had been even hours before.

“I want to make breakfast for you every morning,” he breathed. “I have since I met you.”

She smiled, nestling closer to him.

“I’d love that, but I should probably be the one making you breakfast. It is your birthday, after all. You have to let me give you something other than a bj and a few orgasms for your birthday, even if it is your dirty 30.”

Az choked on a laugh.

“Say you‘ll dinner with me, then. No family or nosy friends around, just us.”

“I think the word you’re looking for it ‘date’,” she said, laughing as his cheeks flushed before realizing something. “Or is the idea just too formal for the situation? I know we did things a bit backwards...”

“We did,” he agreed, stroking her cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I want to spoil you any less. So yes a date, if you’ll still have me.”

“I will,” she said, meeting his hazel eyes before gently kissing him. “With pleasure.”

He smiled against her mouth.

“Then that’s the only birthday gift I want or need from you.”

She smiled, feeling happy to the point of bursting when he kissed her ear and closed his eyes again.

"Happy Birthday, Az.”

His hum of contentment vibrated through her back.

“The happiest,” he breathed.

#featherywrites #elriel smut #elain x azriel #acotar modern one shot #four word prompts

189 notes · View notes

kaepop-trash · 4 years

Note

Hey can you do a drabble with johnny where y/n and him share there kinks in a pillowtalk and even though they are timid (?) at first they encourage each other to speak.

And can you make it fluffy? Or like i dont mind how you make it i trust your writing style anyway😂😊😊😘😘

This started a whole discourse between me and two other people on what we think Johnny’s kinks are so genuine gratitude to you for that. After careful consideration, I came on these. This was very fun to write. I really wish people were this comfortable communicating in real life. I wish I was this comfortable communicating in real life.

I want you to picture this happening after the costco scene in Unintended Consequences, that is important to keep in mind. Thank you for saying you have trust in my writing because it makes one of us. I hope you like this!

Johnny looked up when the door of his bedroom opened, smiling when she walked in. She returned his welcoming smile with a tired one.

“I can’t believe you’re still awake.” She dropped her purse beside the door, “I’m sorry, the meeting lasted longer than I anticipated. We were supposed to go for dinner.” She sighed.

Johnny shook his head, “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He took his laptop off his lap and placed it on the bed. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.” He slipped out of bed, smiling at the way she fluttered her eyes away to the floor at his words.

Johnny definitely enjoyed how she looked when she was flustered a little too much.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

She groaned, "No I was chewing on these crackers from a basket somebody gave me at the office. They were actually really good." She recalled.

"I'm famished." Johnny smiled as he came up to her.

She gave a look that was somewhere between surprise and apology. "You haven't eaten yet? It's midnight!" She sighed. Johnny shook his head. A small smile tugging at his lips from her reprimand, "I’m going to take a shower and then we’ll eat okay?”

“Why are people sending you baskets?” Johnny questions as they ate the food Johnny ordered hours ago. She turned to look at him, holding back a smile. With a suspicious gaze, Johnny picked up his phone.

“It’s your birthday next week.” Johnny snorted once he checked the date.

She laughed, “Remember last year?” The look on his face made her laugh some more.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Johnny sounded offended, “I was still on thin ice with Sooyoung then. Imagine how it felt when she told me it was your birthday and I had no clue.” He sulked making her bite back her laugh.

“She only told you because she knew I wouldn’t.” (Y/N) shrugged, shoving more food into her mouth.

“Why?”

“Just.” She shrugged again. “All my friends live in different cities, you and I were barely on our second month; so I didn’t really do much about it. It’s just another day to me anyway.”

Johnny hummed with sarcasm, “That’s why you were sitting on your couch eating ice cream and watching HBO?” He clicked his tongue, disappointment clear on his face.

Her brows creased, “Hey! Nothing wrong with eating your favourite flavour of ice cream and watching your favourite show for the ninth time.”

“Yes.” Johnny sat back in his chair, patience written all over his face. “But we could have done that together.”

She chewed on her lips at that, before clicking her tongue. “You came over anyway!” She laughed, “With cake and that lemon chicken I really like. You’re the best boyfriend.” She puckered her lips at him and made kissy noises from across the table making him scoff. “It was the middle of the week! I didn’t want to be a bother, so I didn’t tell you. It’s whatever.” She dismissed the idea. “Don’t be mad.” She gave him a cheeky grin. "I'm yours for the day this time." She promised.

Johnny huffed, “Just watch.” He pointed his fork at her, “This time I’m going to go all out.” She groaned at the promise, making a smirk lift his lips. “So many gifts, (Y/N). Just watch.” He threatened. “So many.”

“Johnny.” She whined.

“No, see.” He sat up in his chair, his eyes glinting. “I know you better now. I know exactly what to give you.” He sounded very sure. "So you don't have to be self-righteous."

“And what’s that?”

“Things you want but put off buying. Like that kitchen knife you were eyeing at the mall. Or those scented candles.” He recalled with such impeccable memory that she would refuse if she wasn’t so touched.

Johnny drew his lower lip in with his teeth, thinking over something and then letting it go, “I’m also getting you some things I want.”

“Like what?” She raised a brow.

He gave her a secretive smile, “You’ll see.”

She grimaced, “Why so many?”

“Because I want to.” Johnny got out of his chair, picking up their empty plates. She got up and followed him towards the kitchen, “You never let me buy you anything! Your birthday is an opportunity.” He put the plates in the sink, giving her a chaste kiss on her temples. "And don't say you can get it yourself or I'll add another gift to my list." He said like he read her mind.

She bit her lips, “I let you buy me food.” She protested softly.

The incredulous look Johnny gave her made her giggle. “Basic nourishment, (Y/N). What a standard you set.” He huffed.

“You’re into that aren’t you?” She said softly.

Johnny stopped just as he scrubbed the first plate, turning to her. “Nourishment?” He scoffed, amusement painting on his face. “As a general rule of life, yes.”

She rolled her eyes, “It pleases you, giving people things?” She clarified.

“I guess.” He said slowly, looking back at the plate.

“You even got Mark an xbox for something you refuse to tell me about.” She scoffed.

Johnny smiled to himself, “That’s between him and me.” He wiped his hands after finishing his chore.

She hummed, “So I was right.” She said to herself mostly. When Johnny looked up at her in question, she bit down on her lip. “Last week. At costco?” Her heartbeat sped up a little as she recalled the afternoon.

“Oh.” Johnny blushed and looked away, a sight that was delightful to experience. “Yeah. I mean,” He paused, letting out a short laugh. “I thought I made that obvious.” She could tell he was trying to be nonchalant, but his cheeks were already turning pink.

“What else?” She questioned.

“What else what?” He turned around to face her, pulling her into his chest with a quick tug at her waist.

“What else are you into?”

Johnny gave her a devious grin, “So we’re doing this now?”

She looked down to his chest, “I mean. A year is long enough for us to discuss what we’re into. Sexually speaking.” Her warming cheeks made her look lower, to her own fingers.

Johnny hummed, tightening his grip. “Since we’re discussing this. Let’s start with you.”

That made her look up at him, “I asked you first!” She protested. “You should start.” She narrowed her eyes.

He nodded, “Come to bed at least, we’re both very tired.”

They both lay on their sides, watching each other. The soft light of the lamp above their head illuminated his face, his eyes covered by the shadow his hair left.

Johnny’s eyes shifted to the mirror on the wall opposite his bed, “I like watching you in the mirror sometimes. Watching us, I mean.” When his eyes came back to her, she could tell he was being careful. It made her heart flutter.

“I’ve noticed.” She smiled.

Johnny laughed, flipping over to look at the ceiling, “You’re making me nervous.” He groaned, running his hand through his hair. “I’m very vocal in bed. So I enjoy that in a partner too.” He nodded to himself.

“Like telling you how good it feels?” He questioned.

Johnny flopped his head to the side to face her again, his hair landing on his eyes, “Exactly.” The look he gave her seared her skin, “Also what you want me to do. I’m into verbal affirmation.”

She hummed, “Got anything I wasn’t already aware of?” She raised a brow.

Johnny grinned sheepishly, “Your turn. I’m trying to ease into it.” He winked, “What does my baby like, hmm?” He reached out to lace his fingers through hers, rubbing his fingers on his palm.

She chewed on her bottom lip, “There’s something about the way you run your fingers through my hair.” She fluttered her eyes away from his, focusing instead on his fingers. “Actually, fingers in general. Very nice, very attractive.” She lifted his hand, inspecting it.

“I’m flattered.” Johnny chuckled, “What else?” His voice came out rougher.

Her heart hammered in her throat, “Sometimes, when you’re cross at me.” She turned to look at him, an embarrassed laugh emitting from her lips. “You sound too good scolding me, Johnny. I didn’t know I could be into that.” She huffed, sounding a little annoyed at the notion.

“Now this. This I knew.” A smile tugged at his lips.

"I like taking control sometimes." Her cheeks felt too hot, "Especially if I can be on top." She kept her eyes on his palm.

"Oh." Johnny's voice dropped a little more. "Wow." He huffed, "Okay."

She looked up at him with an amused look in her eyes, the eager nod he gave her giving her the confidence to continue.

"I also," She paused and took a breath. Her exhale came out as a flustered laugh, making her smile.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Johnny grinned.

“I’m not!” She interjected, "Just give me a moment." She groaned, closing her eyes and ignoring her now burning cheeks. "I want to sit on your face." She scrunched her face, lifting a hand to hide it.

Johnny laughed loudly, the sound making her let his hand go to shove his chest.

"Don't laugh at me, Johnny!" She whined, "I'm going to go home. This is the worst idea I've ever had." She risked taking the hand off her eyes to find him grinning at her affectionately.

"You're so cute, (Y/N). That's not bad at all. It's so hot, I'd do anything you want me to know, baby." He brushed his knuckles on her pink cheeks. "You can tell me anything." He mumbled.

"I know!" She defended, "I know." She groaned. "This is just–" She paused, sighing. “This is just new to me.”

“Kinks?” Johnny gave her a skeptical look. She kicked his shin, making Johnny laugh.

“Communicating about them. I just thought,” She took a nervous breath. “I want you to be comfortable with your desires, you know?” She came a little closer to him. "I wanted to know what you like.

Johnny looked over her face, “I am very comfortable with how much I desire you. Too comfortable, in fact.” He raised a meaningful brow, biting back his smile.

“No.” She took another breath, thinking her words over once more. “I have a suspicion.” She breached slowly.

“No (Y/N),” The serious look on his face made her pause. “Mark and I are just friends.”

She snorted, making Johnny grin. “That’s very reassuring. But,” She reached out to put a hand on his chest. He hummed when she did, the sound reverberating in his chest against her palm. She kept her eyes focused on the way her hand rose and fell against his chest, “Sometimes I feel that you’re too careful with me. I don’t know whether it’s because of the fact that I haven’t had too many partners or because you’re afraid I’ll freak out or something.” She looked up with wide eyes when his breathing seemed to rise, her hand moving more rapidly. “I could be wrong. It’s just something I was wondering.” She looked away again, losing her nerves.

This time Johnny put his fingers under her chin, lifting it to meet his eyes, “Hey. You can tell me about anything you wonder in passing, hmm?” His eyes glowed in the dim light, she nodded. “I am gentle with you. I guess, some of it is because I am nervous of how you’ll react. But mostly because I love you. I want to treat you so well, like I believe you deserve.”

“What are you nervous about?” Curiosity took over her hesitation as she finally felt her questions being answered, “I can assure you, that you can’t break me in half.” She added with a snort, a smile playing on her lips.

Johnny mirrored it, “I know.”

“Then?”

“I mean,” Johnny paused, “I guess.” He sighed. He rubbed his face with his hand.

It was strange to see Johnny flustered about something. It was rare, and it never failed to catch her off-guard. Between the both of them, Johnny was comfortable being the one always sure about things; he was the one who not only knew what he wanted, but was enviably vocal about it. She did her part and waited patiently for him to find his words.

Johnny laughed, “You always do this to me.” He groaned, turning back to face her with renewed certainty in his eyes, “There is a laundry list of things I am so tempted to do to you. But I would never want to make you uncomfortable. I guess,” He paused again.

When she laughed at the repeated phrase, he joined with a pained one. “You’re laughing at me.” He groaned, the irony not lost on him.

“Only because I think you’re so cute.” She tugged at his t-shirt, leaving a kiss on his nose. He scrunched it, as if to protest, but it only cemented her statement.

He trapped her in his arms, pecking her lips a few times with a smile. “Exactly. I think I like being cute around you. I want to be your cute, domestic boyfriend Johnny. I didn't think I'd like that role as much I do and I was worried–”

“That I would stop thinking you’re cute if you spank me?” She scoffed.

Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, taking a strained inhale.

She reached up to leave a soft kiss on his eye, “We can always try it.” She said softly. His exhale was equally strained. “And other things." She hummed, "Doesn't mean we lose the comfort we have. If anything, I want you to be more comfortable. Which is why I wanted to know. You’re always holding back. I see it in the way you look at me sometimes.” She kissed the other lid, “I just want to know what it is. Be honest with me.” She kissed his forehead, “Trust me, so I can show that I trust you.” Johnny sighed at those words. “I don’t want your restraint.” She murmured against his cheek.

“You really cannot say that when you take it as a personal challenge to pull away all of my restraint. You’ve been doing it since we met.” He opened his eyes, chiding her.

The smile she gave him at that, shy but unapologetic, made him think that today would really be the day he would tell her of the things he only thought of mid-week when he missed her touch a little too much.

“See.” She smiled against his cheek, “That’s my kink.” She reached a hand out to rest on his neck, nails dragging up into his hair. Johnny shivered at the action. "I just love it. Pulling your restraint away from you slowly, watching you try so hard to keep your self-control together. It's so hot watching it fall apart." Both their breathing matched, heavy and eager. "You're so hot."

"Wretched little thing." He mumbled into her neck, making her skin erupt into goosebumps.

She smiled against his chin, "There's also that isn’t there? The difference in our general stature." A short breathless laugh left her when Johnny groaned, the sound shooting down into the depths of her belly. “What is it about it? I was always curious.” She pulled back from. Somehow looking into his dark eyes and finger-dragged hair was worse than being close to him.

“I just lose my mind over it.” He breathed out the confession, “You're so small, so precious." He laughed at his own words. "That sounds ridiculous out loud but," He chewed his bottom lip sore, her eyes settling on the now swollen flesh, "How your hands fit into mine. How you fit into me.” He paused, dragging his teeth over his lower lip again. “When I’m inside you.” He closed his eyes again, his breathing rapid.

She felt herself rub her thighs together. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She wanted to know these things about him, because was started to fall in love with him. She wanted to see every part of him and reassure him about it. Soothing the small doubts she knew her wildly confident Johnny still held. Instead, the room felt charged with the growing tension.

“Yeah?” She encouraged him.

“You take me so well. You swallow me with your pretty little cunt.” He groaned.

It was her turn to close her eyes, her breathing joining his in pace. This wasn’t at all how this was supposed to go, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind.

“There’s also something,” He continued. “That I think you’d like.” He granted her the mercy of closing the space between them again. She opened her eyes, waiting for him to finish. “Sometimes I think of how it would feel to have my fingers wrapped around your pretty neck.” He hummed, raising his hand to brush his thumb against her throat.

“Fuck.” She grumbled, “Johnny how could you possibly think I’d mind any of these things?” She sounded the cocktail of exasperation and arousal she felt. “Do all of those to me. God you’re absolutely insane for thinking I’d be adverse to any of these.” She whined, squirming as her body searched for friction. “I thought you’d say you want to hang me from the ceiling or something.”

Johnny's laugh sounded more like a pant. "No, nothing that intense." He brushed his thumb over her clavicles. "I think the furthest I'll go is a foot fetish." He sighed.

Her eyes blinked open, "You have a foot fetish?" She asked, surprised. Johnny gave her a nod. "Now see that one I'm going to judge you for." She put a finger on his chest, finding her volume again.

Johnny bit back a smile, "Why does that get such an extreme reaction?" A short laugh bubbled up his throat.

"Are you going to make me send you pictures of my feet?" She furrowed her brows, but her eyes betrayed the humour.

"Not if you don't want to, no."

"But you'll look at them? Like in a sexual way?" She questioned.

Johnny smirked, "How do you know I don't already? You have nice feet. Especially when you paint your nails or wear heels." He took the finger she put on her chest and bought it to his lips.

"That's a little weird I'm not going to lie to you baby." She scrunched her nose.

Johnny scoffed, "So you can like my hands but I can't like your feet?" He raised his brows at her.

She chewed on her lips, caught in the trap of his words. "That's a fair point. I guess you can keep that, then." She gasped when he took her index finger between his teeth, biting down just hard enough for the blood pool into her stomach.

"Don't knock it till you try it, (Y/N)." He warned, his tongue grazing against the flesh now imprinted with the mark of his teeth.

"What exactly am I trying?" She raised a brow.

"One of these days, I just might show you. For now, we both need to sleep." He dropped her hand.

She looked at him, dumbfounded. "We aren't having sex?"

Delight gleamed in his eyes at the indignation in her voice. "Tomorrow." The single word was a bond.

She groaned, too tired herself to put up a fight. "Absolute tease." She rolled her eyes, "That should have made it onto your list. Probably worse than the feet thing, as well." She huffed.

Johnny laughed again, pulling her closer to him till his chin rested on her crown. "I love you so very much." He sighed, the words making her chest bubble like a freshly popped can of soda.

She nuzzled into him, the action significant enough to make him smile. "I hope me thinking your feet are sexy isn't the deal breaker because I don't want to lose you." He mixed the heartfelt words with a lighthearted jab, something very quintessentially 'Johnny' to do.

"You wish you could get rid of me that easy, big boy." She shoved him lightly, "You're my daddy now." She tried to joke but Johnny groaned.

"Stop saying that." He warned, "I was hoping we'd go for brunch tomorrow. So we need to sleep."

"Such a father thing to say Mr. John Suh." She teased further.

Johnny chuckled into her hair. "Okay, enough. I didn't tell you all of those things just to be teased." He whined.

She shuffled to look up at him, "That's exactly what you signed up for with me." She pecked his lips once, "Good night." She smiled against them.

Send me an ask about a character from one of my fics in a scenario and I'll write a drabble.

Character from: Unintended Consequences

#johnny scenarios #johnny drabble #nct johnny #nct #miscellaneous #unintended consequences #johnny #nct 127 #nct scnearios #nct drabble #johnny seo #johnny smut #nct smut

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aworldinsideaperson · 4 years

Text

A Well Kept Secret - George Weasley (Part One)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Food mentions, talking about food, one night stand (no smut) having a child, getting pregnant, being pregnant,

Summary: A one night stand with George produces a child and a secret.

Trope Series: Secret baby.

A/N: This one is going to be in two parts (possibly three we will have to see) but I just started writing this last night and couldn’t stop so here it is.

@izzytheninja @youto-believein

It was a chilly evening in the Fall of 1997 when it all started, two lifelong friends meet in a London pub for a drink or two to take the edge off of their worries and fears as war wages around them. A red haired man sat beside a girl He’d known for the last nine years, they were nearly three drinks deep as their fingers brushed. With a soft intake of breath they looked to each other, her eyes wide as she stared up at him; his eyes had trained on hers as his tongue slid over his lips then dropped to her parted lips. That’s when he knew it was over and his life would never be the same. Little did he know how one night of pure bliss with his schoolyard crush would change both their lives in the ways that it did.

It was only one night. It was only supposed to be one night no matter the feeling that had arisen as they kissed on her bed that night and whispered “I love you” in the dark. The world was far too dangerous to start anything more than that one night and so they kept it at that though it was hardly a surprise to anyone when their glances to each other were lingering or their goodbyes just a touch too long. It was eight weeks before Y/N realized something was off.

The missed period. That’s what did it for her. The most obvious of symptoms but now as she looked down at the stick waiting for an answer things fell into place. She was sick to her stomach so often her diet consisted mostly of crackers the last week, she was exhausted though she had chalked it up to the stress of the current situations the suddenness of it started to make sense. Her mind ran through a checklist of symptoms her mother had claimed during her second pregnancy and with each check mark left her mind became more certain and as the timer went off and her eyes focused on the results she wasn’t as shocked as she should have been.

She was having George Weasley’s baby.

With a hand pressed to her stomach her mind raced. The Weasley family were targets, and England wasn’t safe. So with a single letter owled to her parents Y/N was packing her bags and was off to the states.

She settled into a small town in Missouri. Hermann, population now 2,401 with one on the way. With her life’s savings she paid cash from a tiny shack of a house in the center of town and tried to live her muggle life. At only 19 she was receiving dirty and pitying looks alike as he stomach started to grow beneath her waitress uniform.

At 29 weeks pregnant she received the news, a letter from her parents proclaiming the fall of Voldemort and the end of the war, they begged her to come home. As she looked down at her swollen stomach she hesitated and wrote them a single word response. No.

She had planned to return to London, her home for her whole life, but fear continued to stop her. Voldemort was gone, the Weasley family had lived, George had lived, her family was safe, but the thought of showing up so many months later after no words to George frightened her beyond any unforgivable curse. And so she did it alone. She gave birth to their son alone. She held a first birthday alone, and then a second, and a third all alone. Each year as his birthday drew to a close Y/N wondered if she should write to George, if she should tell him of their son, tell him about his big brown eyes and thick red hair; to tell him of all the mischief their three year old caused. And every year she remembered that it was meant to only be one night. The night had been filled with passion and confessions of love but she not only had to worry about rejection for herself but for the small boy that crawled into her bed when the wind was too loud and begged for just one more bedtime story before she turned out the light. He thought his father was gone, that he had loved him and wanted him but that now he was gone. She couldn’t put her son in a position to be rejected. Not by his own father.

And so she stayed. She stayed away from England, away from her family, away from George. Until an owl arrived on her doorstep 2 weeks after Graysen’s third birthday, an envelope at its feet. With a sigh she took the envelope inside and tore into it, inside was an invitation to her sister’s wedding. It read...

Please join us for the wedding of Alexa & Dawson

The First of September, 2001 at six o’clock in the evening

Dawson’s Family Home

Painswick England

Reception to Follow

Also inside the envelope was a letter, a plea from Alexa to come home, to “Bring Graysen and come home. Just a few weeks. Be my maid of honor and let me meet my nephew.” And so, filled with guilt, Y/N booked the plane tickets and a week later the two of them flew to London.

**********

Leaving the safety of the home she had built made Y/N’s blood run cold, on edge every time she left her parents house, every flash of red hair was a Weasley in her mind and every time it wasn’t she’d breathe a sigh of relief. Until the day the air caught in her lungs as a tall red haired man spotted her across the street. Identical to the one that played in her mind all the time.

He raced across the street and threw his arms around her, barely taking notice of the small red haired boy holding tightly to her hand. “Y/N!” He exclaimed. “How long has it been?”

Y/N used her free hand to pat him on the back. “Almost four years, it’s good to see you Freddie.” She pulled away, her eyes darting to her son, standing at her feet looking up at the man with curiosity. It was then that Fred looked down too and in that moment he realized her long kept secret and she knew it.

“And who’s this?” His voice tentative as he looked between her and the boy.

“This is Graysen.” She smiled and crouched down beside him, the two of them now looking up at Fred. “Graysen, this is one of Mummy’s friends from school, can you say hello to Fred?”

With a glint in his eyes a grin spread across his face. “Hello Fred!”

Fred now too crouched down to a closer height. “Well hello to you too Graysen,” Fred held out his hand and Graysen grabbed it. “How old are you?”

Graysen smiled and jumped up and down. “I just turned three in July!”

Fred faked a shocked face. “Three in July? You’re awfully big for three.”

“Mommy said I got it from my Daddy.”

Fred mumbled under his breath. “I bet you did.”

Y/N gave him a smile and picked Graysen up. “Well we best get going, I have to pick up my dress for Alexa’s wedding, it’s in two weeks.”

Fred nodded. “Right, well I’ll let you get back to your errands, but only if you agree to come to dinner at the Burrow tonight. You spent so much time at our house during breaks Mum will be thrilled to see you.”

“Oh Fred I don’t know I wouldn’t want to impose.” She said, shaking her head vigorously.

“You wouldn’t be, you’re invited. Please come, bring Graysen and your partner.” He insisted, looking to the little boy.

Her voice became small, “Actually it’s just Gray and I.”

“All the more reason to come then.” He was certainly persistent on the matter.

Y/N smiled softly at him, “You’re not going to accept no are you?”

He shook his head, “Not this time.”

“I’ll be there, six as usual?”

“Mum does like to keep a tight meal schedule these days.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Perfect.” With that the two parted ways and Y/N regretted coming home.

**********

Fred strolled into the shop, two paper bags in hand, each filled with food from their favorite muggle dinner in London. Walking up to his brother and setting the food on the counter Fred narrowed his eyes at his brother. “George?” He began, “You remember like 4 years ago, there was a night you didn’t come home?”

George turned from his brother as the corners of his lips turned up at the memory.“Yeah, why?”

“Where were you?”

George rolled his eyes and sighed. “I told you before, I’m not telling you, I was safe that’s what matters.”

Fred rolled his eyes too and mumbled under his breath. “I don’t know if you were as safe as you could have been.”

George turned to him in confusion “What do you mean?”

Fred shook his head. “Nothing, just make sure you’re ready to go by six, you know mum doesn’t like us being late.”

**********

At half past five Y/N sat in front of her parents' empty fireplace, Graysen playing on the floor in front of her as a million thoughts raced through her mind, how could she have said yes? How could she have agreed to dinner with the family of her son, a boy they didn’t know existed, that they didn’t know was theirs. She had considered leaving him with her parents but Fred has specifically invited the two of them and so as the clock struck quarter to six she wrapped Graysen up in her arms and the two of them apparated to the Burrow. Placing Graysen on the ground and holding tightly to his hand Y/N knocked on the front door three times.

When the door swung open Molly Weasley stood on the other side, face bright and smiling and she pulled Y/N in for a hug and ushered her into the home.

It was as bright and warm as it had always been, filled with noise and people.

“Who’s this?” Molly asked smiling down at Graysen looking around the magical house in wonder.

“This is Graysen, my son.”

Molly looked at her with wide eyes, “Your son?”

“Yes, he’s why I left the county.”

Molly gave her a smile and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You did the right thing dear, it wasn’t safe.”

“I know, but I should have come back sooner.” Her voice was soft and filled with sadness.

“What’s done is done, now come, we’re all sitting down to dinner.”

Walking into the kitchen felt so normal, she’d taken so many meals here in her youth it felt so natural to take the seat she’d always held, right beside George, though his seat seemed to be empty.

The table filled, Aruther and Molly at the heads, Ginny and Harry, Hermione and Ron, Bill, Fleur, even Percy and his wife had joined the fray tonight but the twin’s seats still remained empty at six oh one when there was a loud crack and the two cackling gingers appeared.

“Sorry we’re late mum, one last customer and all that, you know how it is.” Fred smiled as their laughter died down and they looked to the table.

When their eyes locked the room went silent. Y/N and George just stared at each other, until Graysen pulled on her arm for her attention. That’s when George looked to the small boy beside her and his heart soared then sank. Silently he went to his seat, the one beside Y/N, just as it has always been back when they were younger. Though this time they stayed nearly silent as they filled their plates and ate, Y/N keeping a close eye on the boy next to her as he fed himself small spoonfuls of the concoction he’d made of his plate.

“So Y/N,” Fred spoke. “You introduce Georgie to your son?”

Y/N swallowed and shook her head. “George? This is my son Graysen.”

George leaned around her to get a good look at the boy, the red hair and the big brown eyes, there was no doubt that he was a Weasley. “Hello Graysen, it’s nice to meet you. I’m George.”

With a full spoon still in his mouth Graysen attempted a smile and waved his little hand in George’s direction. The normal conversation resumed and George turned to her and asked. “How old is he?”

“He just turned three.” She stated, her eyes trained closely on her plate.

“He seems like a sweet boy.”

“He is, he’s adorable and an absolute terror at times. His tantrums have been known to shake walls.”

Arthur chuckled, jumping into the conversation. “You know, the twins were like that too when they were young, thought they were going to bring the whole house down once or twice.”

Y/N smiled and stayed silent, the rest of dinner focused entirely on the food in front of her and keeping Gray’s mess contained to his plate. Dinner was cleared and everyone ushered themselves into the living room, Graysen and Victoire sat in the middle of the floor playing, everyone else sat around them on couches and chairs. It was all polite conversation until Fred turned to her with a mischievous smile, the same one his twin got, the same one that Graysen got, the one that indicated a terrible, terrible, idea.

“So Y/N,” Fred began, “Who’s Graysen’s dad?”

Y/N tried to smile but the panic was clear on her face. “Wow, right to the hard hitters.”

“Shouldn’t be a hard question.” His tone flat, no hint of laughter in his voice. And so the interrogation began.

“You don’t know him.”

“Is he a wizard?”

“Yes.”

“Come from a big family?”

“No just him and his one sibling.”

“A twin?”

“No.”

“Parents names?”

“Mark and Anna.”

“What happened to him?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Did he go to hogwarts with us?”

“Yes.”

“Gryffindor?”

“Yes.”

Fred paused his rapid fire and his eyebrows rose. “Really?”

That was when it dawned on her, she’d slipped. There were only four Gryffindor boys their year. Fred knew it wasn’t him, and there was only one other redhead. “Fuck.” Y/N stood up quickly, picking Graysen up in her arms as she walked swiftly toward the door. “I’ve gotta go.”

George stood up after her following the two of them to the door. “Y/N wait!” He shouted but without a second thought a crack filled the air and she was gone.

George stormed back into the room, his eyes full of rage. “I can’t believe you!” He yelled his anger directed at his twin as the rest shuffled from the room.

Fred huffed. “Why are you angry with me? I was just asking questions about his father.” A sly smirk on his face as he leaned back in his chair.

“Because you know it’s me and you pushed her anyway!” George grew more angry by the minute.

“I did that for you! Do you really think she was going to tell you when she’s kept it from you this long already? No!” Fred now stood, face to face with his twin.

George choked on his words, clenching and releasing his fists as he tried not to attack the man before him. After a moment, his breathing calmed and his voice steadied. “That’s not a decision you get to make for her or for me. Now I have to go fix this and I’ll be lucky if she lets me in.” And with that George turned and walked out the door.

#Tw: food #tw: food mention #tw pregnancy #tw children #tw one night stand #george weasley #george weasley imagine #Harry Potter series #harry Potter series imagine #george weasley x reader

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usuallyamazinglyaverage · 4 years

Text

Side By Side [Ethan x MC]

Hey there, ya lovely people!

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and got to celebrate the season of giving with your family and friends. To end this year properly, I’m back with a bit of writing :)

I’m not gonna lie, the two months before the holidays were really rough and I had to sort so much shit out. It just kept me from most things I love doing in my free time, including talking with my friends and writing. That’s why this one took me a while to finish.

(Nevermind the fact that I rewrote this fic like two times, but that’s a story for another day)

I’ll most likely take a break from OH oneshots for a while (unless inspiration strikes me), but I am still working on stuff, inluding one or two AUs and fics for some other fandoms. I hope a breather to get my muse back on track is alright with you all ;)

I wish you all a safe journey into the next year - let’s pray it’ll be a better one <3

As always, I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Please enjoy!

Summary: Big steps in a relationship are always difficult - this one is no exception.

Warnings: Just some light teasing and a bit of language - this is mostly cheesy fluff <3 (I know, I’m surprised as well)

Note: MC of the fic is Annabelle Dawson. I created the header myself, hope it’s pleasing to the eye :) This is set a few months after the end of Book 2.

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Song: If You Love Her by Forest Blakk

Ethan tried very hard to not look like he was running – and was failing spectacularly.

Some of his colleagues had to dodge out of his way as he strode through the hallways, white coat fluttering behind him, hands stuffed into the pockets. Slipping into the stairwell, the attending took two steps at a time, reaching the bottom floor quickly.

The atrium was packed, lit by the bright gray sky beyond the ceiling windows - reminding him that he was supposed to be busy in his office right now. Christmas was just around the corner, and after Edenbrook’s reopening, the paperwork had simply piled up, barely giving him time to bring some distance between him and his desk.

He dreaded going back already - but there was something he had to take care of first. Something that felt pivotal for his motivation right now.

Turning his head, Ethan let his eyes wander through the spacious room, from the stairs to the entrance and back again. Finally, he spotted a mess of golden locks, tucked into the usual practical ponytail.

She was with her friends, Trinh and Varma, already dressed in her day-to-day clothes, the strap of her bag slung over one shoulder. The two other women gave her a hug, shooing her along.

Ethan couldn’t help but feel silly when her bell-like, resounding laugh made his heart lurch in his chest, lifting his mood immediately.

Anna turned on her heels with one last wave and headed towards the doors, tucking up her scarf and the lapels of her jacket to ward off the oncoming cold. He waited until her friends went back to their conversation before following her, maneuvering through the crowd and catching up with the younger doctor in the light snowdrift outside.

His hand on her shoulder coaxed a tiny yelp from her, hazel eyes looking up at him with a gratified sort of wonder.

"Ethan? What-"

The older doctor cut Anna off by directing her against the wall framing the entrance, cupping her chin and gently tilting it up for easier access. The kiss was rougher than he would have liked, muscle memory taking over as he nipped on the corner of her mouth.

His former intern, however, didn’t seem to mind, parting her lips with a soft sigh.

Sliding his hands to the back of her jaw, he drew Anna closer, the sugary taste of her dissipating the rest of his stress. He smiled when she grew boneless against him, delicate fingers twirling his tie.

Eventually, they had to come up for oxygen, both drawing away with barely audible hums. Anna’s thoroughly addled expression filled him with an odd pride, her lashes fluttering against her reddened cheeks.

"Is it my birthday?“ she breathed. "Did I accidentally invent the cure for cancer? There must be something I did to deserve this."

"Actually, I just... wanted to wish you a good day," Ethan murmured, tucking a lock behind her ear. "We barely saw each other the past few days. I feel like I can’t catch a break at the moment."

Tenderness seeped into her gaze, liquefying the color to a point where he wanted to drown in it and never come out again.

"Did this help?"

He chuckled. "More than you know."

"Well, feel free to do that anyti-"

"Anna?"

Ethan jumped away from her, whirling around.

This is what you get for leaving your office, a perfidious voice nagged at the very back of his tumbling thoughts.

The tip of his ears flushed hot and he had to force himself to not look away from the woman standing a few feet from them, a grin plastered on her face.

"Hi, gran," Anna offered weakly, pushing herself off the wall. "You, um, you remember Doctor Ramsey?"

Greta Dawson gave them both an impish wink. "Hard to forget this one, right?" She looked between the two for a moment. "You don’t call him 'doctor' usually though, do you? Not that I’m one to judge."

Jesus.

Ethan rubbed the flushed back of his neck, desperately trying to find his dignity among the thick snowflakes swirling from the sky.

He had met Anna’s pint-sized grandmother a little over a year ago, after assisting in an operation that had ultimately saved her life. She was a cheeky, terrifying force of nature, intimidating in a very specific way. Mostly because meeting her had felt substantial – even then. Greta was the only relative Anna had left and as such, the older doctor didn’t want to make a bad impression.

Which he probably just did. Wonderful.

Straightening his shoulders and clearing his throat, he offered his palm. "It’s nice to see you again, Greta." The old woman chortled, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "Likewise, Doctor Dreamy.“

Next to him, Anna groaned, burying her face against his chest. "Please take me back to work." Despite his still burning ears, Ethan frowned down at her. "Absolutely not. You worked the longest shifts this week." The blonde answered his frown with one of her own. "Traitor."

Her pout was distracting and painfully cute, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the sight. "Go," he urged after a moment of indulgence. "Spend some time with your family.“ The jig was already up, so he leaned down to press another gentle kiss to her lips, this one far more modest than he would have liked. "I’ll see you on Monday."

"I have a better idea," Greta interrupted cheerfully, twiddling her fingers at the two doctors. "How about you join our dinner tomorrow?" Opening and closing her mouth, Anna glanced at Ethan while shuffling her feet. "I mean I... I like that thought. We're making lasagna?"

There was that coyness of hers again, making him wonder if she really didn’t know how utterly charming she was – and that there were very few things that he wouldn't do for her.

"I like that thought too,“ he said, his voice quiet but certain, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Call me when you get home?“

"I will." Anna brushed her thumb along his scruffy jaw, smiling hesitantly.

"Have fun, Rookie." His blues flicked over to her grandmother, who was watching their exchange with obvious curiosity. "And, ah, you too, Greta."

The old woman winked once again. "We’ll see you tomorrow, Ethan."

“Damn.”

Anna stared into the mirror, grimacing at the smudge of mascara, just below her left eye. Sighing, she slipped the tiny brush back into the silver tube, exchanging it for q-tip to correct the mistake.

Her fingers were still shaky.

Wiping the black from her skin, she tried not to think about the man waiting for her in the kitchen – a hard thing to do when there were reminders of him all around her.

Her toothbrush rested next to his in a tall cup on the spacious sink.

Her towel occupied a shelf next to the shower.

His cologne and her perfume both permeated the air.

Reminders of him – reminders of them. All things she never would have thought possible half a year ago. Usually, the sight of shared commitment was a beautiful, giddiness-inducing facet of their relationship for her. Tonight, she couldn't help but wonder if Ethan was feeling smothered by it all.

Dinner with her grandmother was a step Anna hadn't even considered until she had caught them red-handed yesterday. Greta knew about Ethan, knew about the chaotic circumstances that had brought them together at last, but she had never expressed the wish to meet him in an official capacity.

Just one of the many firsts that he had been a part of.

Taking a deep breath, the young doctor tossed the q-tip into the trash bin, smoothing her hands along the burgundy fabric of her casual dress and her black tights – a last effort to calm herself.

The hallway outside of the bathroom was much cooler, making Anna shiver as she made her way to the kitchen.

Ethan was leaning against the island, his crisp white oxford peeking through his unbuttoned coat. Tapping away on his phone, he uncrossed his legs, dark slacks rustling quietly. He looked a little bit unreal in the dim light. An apparition, summoned by the farthest reaches of her mind.

“You're staring,” he informed her, finally looking up and interrupting her ogling.

Anna tried her hardest not to appear embarrassed, but her traitorous face heated at the comment anyway.

“You look nice,” she muttered, casting her gaze to the ceiling for a moment before meeting his once again.

Ethan chuckled, pushing himself off the island and crossing the distance between them. “You just stole my line.” His eyes swept over the dress, the blue heavy and eager. “Though 'nice' seems very much insufficient.” Stopping a few inches away from her, he pressed a lingering kiss to Anna's cheekbone. “You're stunning.”

The warmth in his voice broke her heart just a little. Anna wrapped her arms around his waist, letting his scent wash over her. Ethan stilled, one of his hands finding the back of her neck and weaving through the loose golden curls there. He didn't say anything right away, granting this moment of respite.

“You're nervous, aren't you.”

Perceptive as ever.

She released a long breath and traced the pattern of his coat. “Not because of the dinner itself.” Lifting her head, she studied his face before pressing on. “I'm just wondering if you're alright. We've really picked up the pace.”

Surprised, Ethan raised his brows. “Are you asking me if I have cold feet?”

“I... suppose I am.”

“Anna.” There was a note of gentle admonishment in his voice, urging her to listen. “You're here every second weekend. Yesterday, I practically begged you to come over, because we're barely seeing each other at work. Does that sound like I'm questioning my decision to be with you?” His lips brushed her temple. “I'll admit that your grandmother terrifies me. But that doesn't mean I don't want to get to know her better.”

“Well, now I feel silly,” she murmured sheepishly.

Ethan huffed out a soft laugh, tickling the shell of her ear. “Maybe I like that about you.” He pulled away, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You and your busy brain.” Lacing their fingers for a brief moment, he nodded his head towards the door. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I'll ever be,” Anna sighed, letting him help her put on her jacket and lead her out of the apartment.

The drive to her grandmother's place felt far too short.

Her leg wiggled every time they passed another green light, forcing Ethan to rest his palm on it to soothe her. He did so wordlessly, keeping it there until he shut off the motor and offering it to her when they walked up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment complex. She took it, ever grateful for his quiet support.

The blonde fumbled with her set of keys when they reached the door, almost dropping them when it opened on it's own, revealing a her apron-clad grandmother.

“Gran,” she chastised, letting the old woman pull her into a hug. “Were you waiting by the door?”

“Nonsense, dear,” Greta sniffed, rubbing her back with a little too much enthusiasm.

Anna could practically hear the lie in her affronted tone, masking her pained sigh with a small cough. “Right. A preposterous notion.”

“Just as preposterous as denying me this view for past few months.” Her grandmother gestured over to Ethan, who had watched their exchange with a subdued smile. “The women in our family did always have an eye for the finer things in life, I must say,” she mused. “Come in, you two.”

Anna couldn't help but swallow as she watched Ethan hang up his coat and enter her childhood home. The furniture, the décor and even the comforting smell of chamomile and laundry detergent was the same, reminding her of days past.

With him in the middle of it all, it felt like two separate dimensions colliding and forming something she couldn't quite name. He looked both out of place and like he belonged as they followed Greta into the kitchen.

Handing her grandmother the expensive bottle of Château Monbrison the young doctor had chosen from his wine stash a few hours ago, Ethan rubbed the side of neck. “Anna told me this is your favorite. Thank you again for the invitation.”

Greta regarded him with amusement. “That's a very sweet gesture, Ethan. Tell me, how good is your cooking?”

“I -” At a loss for words, he looked over at Anna.

“He's great,” she affirmed hastily, flushing at her choice of defense. “I mean his cooking. It's great. Very good.”

“Wonderful. How about you help me prepare the rest of the lasagna then, my boy?” Her grandmother patted Anna's shoulder. “Could you be a dear and set the table? I've already left the plates in the dining room.”

“But-”

“Snowbell.” Greta brushed a lock out of her granddaughters face. “Don't worry. You'll get him back without even one hair out of place.”

On her way out of the kitchen, Anna caught Ethan's gaze, the two doctors exchanging a small, equally nervous smile before they were separated.

In the quiet of the dining room, the blonde took a shaky breath, trying to sort her thoughts as she moved plates, glasses and silverware around.

She should have expected this.

Anna trusted and loved her grandmother, dearly, but she could be a bit much at times. Then again, she had never taken such an interest in any of her partners. In Canada, she had been too far away to truly introduce her first long-term boyfriend and once she had finally returned to Boston, the relationship was already over.

And Michael – well. Nothing good had come of being with him.

Ethan was the most complicated man she had ever met by far – but he was her future. The thought strengthened every day she spend with him, every time she looked into his eyes and every time he held her close.

It was far too soon to tell him, however.

And that was exactly why she was nervous about the prospect of her Greta and Ethan alone together.

“You've been holding that fork for quite a while now.”

Startled out of her musings, Anna turned around, almost stumbling into the older doctor. He caught her by the elbows, gently prying the silverware from her fingers and setting it down.

“You're done already?” she wondered, blinking at him.

Ethan chuckled. “It's been a little over ten minutes. Lost in thought again?”

“...Can you blame me?”

“No,” he admitted. “But it wasn't as bad as you probably imagined. You're supposed to show me your room, by the way. Something about it being the prelude to embarrassing baby pictures.”

The blonde groaned, hooking her arm around his and pulling him back into the hallway. “Fine. But you better be gentle. It hasn't been renovated since I was sixteen.”

“I thought you liked it when I'm not gentle,” Ethan teased, earning himself a smack to his chest when they entered the room on the far end.

Closing the battered wood behind them, Anna watched nervously as he moved to the middle of the room, his height dwarfing the old furniture to ridiculous proportions.

His gaze wandered over the walls, the faded teal plastered over by posters and photographs. Taking a few steps closer to the scratched up vanity next to her bed, the older doctor plucked a picture from the frame of the mirror.

She fought to urge to take it from him, mashing her lips together.

Her twenty-year-old self in this particular photo looked like a textbook nerd, much shorter locks braided into two pigtails and clutching her acceptance letter for Boston's med school, while she and Greta grinned at the camera.

Ethan reattached the picture with another chuckle. Then, his gaze fell on her nightstand - and on the book sitting on it.

More specifically, his book.

The unassuming cover was well worn, some of the pages dog-eared. Picking it up, he thumbed through it, raising a brow at Anna.

"What?" she asked a bit too forcefully, cheeks burning.

His mouth twitched, eventually losing the fight against the complacent expression overtaking his features.

"Someone’s a fan," he hummed. "Want to me to sign this one too?"

"That depends," the blonde huffed, crossing her arms. "Do I need to undertake another ridiculous task before you do it?“

Grinning, Ethan tossed the book back and crooked a finger at her. "How about you come over here and kiss me, Rookie? You can decide after if that’s asking too much."

"You’re ridiculous," she murmured, walking up to him hesitantly and slipping her hands around his neck with a pout. Something utterly triumphant twinkled in his deep blues as he craned his head down, meeting her in the middle.

The kiss was soft, slow and warm, tasting faintly of toothpaste. Ethan wrapped his arms around Anna’s waist, lifting her from her tiptoes and setting her down on the bed, his lips never leaving hers.

There was a comfort in his body covering her own, the pleasant buzz of it all coaxing a faint moan from her throat.

Eventually, they had to come up for air, Ethan’s nose nuzzling her cheek.

"You know, you're the first guy to make out with me on this bed," she said thoughtfully and brushed her knuckles over his jaw, enjoying the texture of his beard against her skin.

The attending pushed himself onto one elbow, his free fingers mapping the curve of her hip. "I'm not sure how much more information my ego can take. I'm this close to begging for mercy."

"Oh my god." Anna pulled him back to her by his hair, their laughter mingling until they were breathless once more.

Eventually, Ethan rolled off to the side, facing the younger doctor on the mattress. It was oddly soothing, having him share the tiny bed with her. A peaceful little bubble, after the start of what was bound to be an eventful afternoon.

It gave her courage to ask the question sitting at the forefront of her mind.

“What did you and my grandmother talk about?”

Ethan's jaw tensed for a brief second, his palm lifting to find her face.

“She told me about the state you were in the week after I had left for the Amazon.” His calloused thumb drew a half circle. “And to be more careful with your heart this time around.”

“Or she'll put you six-feet-under?” Anna questioned weakly.

“No.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “No, she asked me while offering me a glass of wine. She's just worried, princess. And she has every right to be.”

“Ethan...”

“I can't ever take back what I did, Anna,” he sighed. “We both know that. You forgive me so easily every time I mess up and I shouldn't take it for granted. Even your endless patience will run out eventually.”

“You're worth it. You always were.”

Hazel and blue connected, both achingly soft.

“So are you.”

Unspoken words, unspoken emotions, enriched by the dim light falling through pale curtains, drowning the space in silence and contentment.

“Should we get back?” Anna murmured, careful not to disturb the tender moment with her voice. “My grandmother is probably waiting for us.”

“In a minute.” Forehead tipping down to meet hers, Ethan dragged her close, breathing her in. “In a minute, sweetheart.”

A/N: So cheesy. Was a lot of fun to write though :3

#ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey fanfiction #choices oh #open heart #open heart 2 #playchoices #choices: stories you play #my writing #can you tell I enjoy Hallmark movies and bad humor #probably

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

Salt & Snow - Chapter 5

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: The daughter of House Caspian begins to realize her place in a world of strict tradition and hierarchy. A tragedy strikes Winterfell, bringing her closer to the Starks.

The brush slid across the thick paper, making a beautifully straight line. The black paint was bold against the paper, which wasn’t completely white, but it was the closest she’d seen, almost as white as snow. What a wonderful birthday gift. Y/N had a thin wooden palette that she perched on her lap, allowing her to take the paper anywhere and paint what she saw. She already had ideas of what to send Ned, although transporting a painting without damaging it would be troublesome. Maybe it was best to just keep it in Winterfell until he came back? He had to return soon, he was seventeen. It had to be soon.

It’s what Lyanna talked about often, and Y/N didn’t blame her. She wanted him back too, though maybe for different reasons. She was pleased he still kept writing to her, entertaining her childish whims, although she didn’t feel childish anymore. They didn’t talk about ‘childish’ topics, either, it was always… all sorts of things. Y/N could write to Ned about anything on her mind, and he did the same.

I hope we can talk as easily. What if he comes back and I don’t know what to say? Y/N wondered if that was a silly thought. She refocused on her painting, dabbing a small brush into the paints she’d set up beside her. There weren’t many colors to work with, but that made it an interesting challenge. The training yard was busy this late, so she had plenty of subjects to observe. Painting moving figures was a new challenge. It wouldn’t be a perfect still life, instead, she’d try her own composition of movement and action.

Y/N hummed to herself as she worked. She had only two hours before the sun would set, but she was confident she could finish the rest of it in her room.

“Don’t most girls paint flower fields and vases?”

“I’m a lady,” Y/N responded. She didn’t look up from her painting right away, wanting to finish a few more brush strokes. “You should always be gracious to a lady, especially if you’re a future ‘Lord Stark’.”

Brandon grinned. “I was going to scare you, but I decided to be nice instead. That’s very gracious, I think.”

Now you sound like your little brother. Y/N set her brush down next to the paints. She observed Brandon was still in his traveling clothes. “When did you return?”

“Just over an hour ago. It was a slow ride, Ser Roderick wouldn’t let me go ahead of the escort.”

“There’s a reason for that.” Y/N smiled at his impatience. “How was the Rills?”

“The same as always. Next week I’m going to see Lord Manderly. While I’m there, I could stop by your family’s castle. Perhaps I could bring a gift to them.”

“That would be wonderful. You know they would love to have your company, my lord.”

Brandon’s smile was infectious, Y/N had to admit. Thank the gods he was over that irritating phase he had before, acting like he was too grown-up and superior to bother with Y/N and his younger siblings. Well, he could still be irksome to Benjen and Lyanna, but they paid him back tenfold with their usual mischief. Y/N was just pleased he acted like the lord he should be around her. Pleasantries made things easier, and it really would be kind of him to bring her father a pelt or her mother a rare book.

Right now, he was leaning over to see what she was painting, as he’d often been doing the past year. She knew he had no interest in art, but he still made a point to ask about what she was working on.

It’s good for him to at least feign interest and learn about others. Maybe all those scoldings from Lord and Lady Stark are finally sinking in. Y/N thought. She showed him what she’d been working on, groups of men at swordplay. “They’re finally used to my sketching, I think. At first they gave me peculiar looks.”

“It’s because you were staring.” That charming smile turned to an amusing pout. “You shouldn’t be staring at strange men, Y/N, or drawing them.”

“They aren’t strange at all! I know their names, and they’re sworn men, besides. Are you just upset I haven’t drawn you?”

She was teasing like Lyanna and Benjen did, but he didn’t respond like she thought. Brandon actually huffed. “Better me than some old guardsman.”

“Sit down, then.” Y/N gestured to the seat next to her on the bench, the side not covered in paints and paper. “Portraits are always good practice.”

Brandon looked at the spot, only waiting a moment before taking a seat. He was still windblown from the road, smelling like horses and leather, but it wasn’t too unpleasant. Y/N fought the urge to smooth out his hair — it was such a mess, but he wasn’t a boy. Even Benjen was getting too old for her fussing.

“So you know, I’m not the sort to embellish.” Y/N said, her hand darting across a blank piece of paper. Messy sketches were fine for something like this. “So I will be drawing that unruly hair and those red ears.”

“They aren’t red,” Brandon grumbled and rubbed at the ears in question.

Y/N didn’t look up from her drawing. “They are. So are your cheeks. Are you cold?”

“I’d be a poor Stark if weather like this got me cold. Shouldn’t you be concentrating?”

“I am.” Y/N had to glance up to make sure the eye shape was right. Brandon had such an amusing expression, it was making her work difficult. “If you could be still, it would be easier.”

Brandon said nothing to that, only furrowing his brows further. It was startling how much he looked like Lord Stark, while Lyanna took after her mother. Benjen was a clear mix of the two, but all of them had that long face and dark coloring. She pictured Ned’s face in her mind, trying to remember the last time she saw him. Gods, was that three years ago? Maybe four? He must look so different now. Taller, with a proper sword and the skills to back it up - and what about those grey eyes? Would they be darker or lighter? Did he finally cut that brown hair, to better fit in with the Eyrie, or did he keep it long and Northern?

“What are you smiling about?” Brandon asked.

“Oh, nothing.” Y/N said Someone in the distance drew her attention away, which she was grateful for. She waved at him. “Ben!”

Brandon scowled at his little brother walked up. Benjen was already taller than Y/N, thanks to his spindly limbs. He looked around at the art supplies and Brandon’s awkward posture. “I hate it say it, but you’d be better off with a different subject, Y/N. There’s only so much you can do with this one.”

Benjen dodged out of the way of his older brother’s grip. His reflexes were nothing to sneeze at. “Big words from a skinny rat!” Brandon said, getting up to grab at his brother again, but Benjen was too quick. The older Stark may have been as big as his father now, but he had a certain … lack of grace. No doubt he was tired from the trip, too.

“Should I use smaller words?” Benjen easily danced around him.

“Do this somewhere else!” Y/N laughed. That was the end of the little sitting session, then. Brandon couldn’t be still after getting riled up; he was like a dog in that way. “Be careful, would you?”

“I’m just going to teach him a lesson—!” Brandon said, finally getting Benjen in his grasp. He cursed when his brother easily twisted out of his grip and hit his nose. It wasn’t a real punch, but it still hurt, and Brandon shook his head while Benjen unhooked his sword from his belt.

“Thanks!” Benjen scurried off, carrying the sword that was too heavy for him to actually wield. Y/N rolled her eyes at how Brandon predictably ran after him with a fresh new string of curses. He had only been home a few hours before he was going back to silliness with his brother. Lyanna would have joined in too, had she been here. Their latest pasttime was stealing the beautiful new sword Brandon was so proud of. Benjen just liked to stir up trouble, but Lyanna was sour she couldn’t have steel of her own.

What has she been doing today? Y/N hadn’t seen much of her friend today. Lyanna didn’t enjoy the last feast, which was a small affair - only half a dozen families were there, and not all their members - but she was still put off. Y/N hadn’t known Lyanna to retire before her, but that night, she did. It was usually the fatigued Lady Stark that was the early departure, not her fiery daughter.

Thinking about it now, Lyanna was unusually quiet through breakfast this morning, and she had been riding most of the day. Y/N considered that maybe she should have gone with her, even if being near a horse still made her shudder. She could have at least sat on the edge of the riding field and watched Lyanna. Maybe she wanted to be alone. If she really wanted me there, I know she would have dragged me.

With all her art supplies carefully packed up, Y/N returned to the castle and planned to find out what Lyanna’s mood was. I could be overthinking everything. We’re women now, four and ten years, we don’t have to cling about each other anymore.

Y/N nodded to the servants and guards when she saw them, giving a smile to those she knew well. They had long been familiar, pleasant faces that she relied upon. It recently occurred to Y/N that she knew them better than the servants of Whitetide, whose faces were rapidly disappearing from her memory. Maybe if her parents didn’t visit twice or thrice a year, and if she didn’t love them so much, she’d begin to lose their faces, too.

Their shared bedchamber was warm from a low-burning fire in the hearth. Y/N set her supplies down on her desk before shedding her thick cloak. It was fastened with a lovely silver manta ray that had a tiny pearl for an eye, a gift from Lady Stark herself. Y/N’s name day had passed a few months ago, and while her parents couldn’t visit, her second family was right there beside her. Lady Stark’s hands had become pale and thin, but she still wanted to fasten the pin herself after presenting it to Y/N. Then she patted her head like adults did to children, but Y/N couldn’t mind it.

Y/N was so caught up in turning the little manta ray in her hands, she didn’t hear the bedroom door open and close. The stomping of feet made her jump, and she swiveled to see Lyanna yanking off her riding boots and shaking the snow off them in the most unladylike way.

“So you were riding all day,” Y/N said, setting the pin into her modest jewelry box. She offered a smile. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Lyanna didn’t respond right away. She pulled at her cloak instead, tossing it on one of the chairs by the hearth. Y/N’s smile fell. There was an obvious dark cloud around her friend. Lyanna kicked her boots aside and huffed as she sank into an overstuffed chair. She was becoming too leggy to curl up into it like a child.

“Why in the seven hells can I not wear riding trousers?” She said irritably. “I’m sure the washerwomen are sick of cleaning the smell out of my dresses.”

Y/N sat in the chair across from her, settling herself into it. “And the horsehair.”

“It itches terribly. If I had a tunic, it wouldn’t be so bothersome, nor would the branches in my way.” Lyanna picked a leaf off her sleeve. Trouble was brewing in her grey eyes. There was fire in them even without the hearth lighting her face, a natural energy that possessed her entire person. Lyanna was more wolf than any of them, and when she hunched in the chair with her long legs drawn to her chest, she looked like a trapped one.

Y/N waited for her to speak first. There was something on her friend’s mind, but she had to find the words. Once she had them, Lyanna said, “You weren’t bothered at that feast. The last one, with the Karstarks and Glovers and Cassels.”

It was strange for her to bring it up now, but Y/N had just been thinking about it as well. Overall, Y/N would dare to say she enjoyed herself, even if the Karstark boys were too blunt in their desire to dance with her.

“I wasn’t too bothered. It wasn’t as crowded as it usual; I could hear the music for once. I was able to dance for a while, and the lords and their sons behaved.” Y/N didn’t know what else to say. “You left early. You didn’t want to dance?”

“Of course not!” Lyanna responded so sharply, it startled her old friend. “Why would I? Why would you?”

Y/N had no idea what Lyanna meant by that. That embarrassing dance with Roose Bolton a year ago had made her self-conscience of how clumsy her movements were. Lady Stark was delighted that Y/N took an interest in learning grace and how to carry herself better; and didn’t it make sense to test it out? Now that she didn’t overthink the steps, she could enjoy the exercise and the music. The company was good, and when she was tired, she japed around with Benjen and little Jory.

With all those racing thoughts, Y/N simply said, “I enjoy dancing, if that’s what you mean. What’s the matter with that?”

Lyanna shook her head, her brown hair falling farther out of a braid that was already coming undone. She’d lost another set of silk hair ribbons. “I don’t know how you stand it. You’re just a prize to them, you know, a bauble. You shouldn’t even amuse them. Neither of us should.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The men! The lords or their sons, whichever! We’re just stupid little brides to them. Didn’t you notice them looking at you? Shoving their sons at you? Lord Karstark had them all lined up! And even if they’re married, they’ll leer!”

“That’s… that’s ridiculous, Lyanna,” Y/N stammered. “Where did this come from?”

“Y/N, we’re women grown now!” Lyanna was bursting with energy and frustration that she couldn’t get out fast enough. “My mother married at six and ten! It’s nearly time for us, time for arrangements! Soon every lord will be nibbling at my father’s heels to take me off his hands, and no doubt your own lord father has received letters from all the ones you danced with.”

“Lyanna. Did someone tell you something?” Y/N asked. She was already trying to avoid thinking of the future, and Lyanna had never discussed it with her. She thought her friend didn’t think of it at all. “Before you, Brandon will marry, and that hasn’t even been discussed.”

“Of course it has! Why would they tell us? They can marry me off without finding him a bride, and without asking what I think.” Her cheeks were burning with red anger now. “I’m a Stark, so I can’t stay in the North. They’ll send me away somewhere — somewhere South, because where else? I’ll have to leave Winterfell, while my brothers and everyone I love stay!”

Y/N went to Lyanna, taking her hands in her own. She squeezed them tight. “Where did all this come from? Have your parents been talking?”

“No one needs to tell me. It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Lyanna said, looking Y/N right in the eyes. “That’s what we’ve got to look forward to, Y/N. The feasts aren’t meant to be fun for us. Maybe for the men, but not for us. We’re there to be picked and chosen, like prize fillies.”

Lyanna squeezed their hands tight, so tight it hurt right away. She stared at Y/N’s clean nails and smooth palms. Except for the occasional smudges from paint, they were always like this. Lyanna looked at her own, already becoming calloused at the palms and thumb, often edged with dirt around her nailbeds.

Y/N was at a loss. Her friend’s harsh words were true enough; she was well aware of what their duties as women were. It crossed her mind now and again, the thought of marriage and that she’d have to return home eventually so her parents could begin to plan. She’d push those thoughts away, hoping the day would come slowly. She didn’t want to leave Winterfell, or her dear friends.

Still, she said, “It… It has to happen eventually. Our parents aren’t cruel, they wouldn’t give us terrible husbands, and they’d talk to us before any arrangement. When we have to leave Winterfell —”

“You won’t.” Lyanna pulled their hands apart. “You’ll be staying here, Y/N, and I’ll be sent away.”

“What? No, when my parents are ready arrange a match, they’ll call me back to Whitetide.”

“You aren’t going back! Isn’t it obvious? You’re going to marry one of my brothers!”

After that statement, the only sound in the bedroom was the crackling of the fire. Lyanna didn’t back down. In this light, her Stark eyes weren’t grey at all, only hot steel.

“How do you know that?” Y/N said. With the loss of Lyanna’s hands, she nervously tugged at end of her long sleeves. “Did … did someone say —?”

“No one has to! I thought you knew! You’re fourteen, a woman grown, and my parents haven’t sent you back, nor have your’s asked for you. When they meet, they’re always whispering and glancing around. Brandon will marry outside the North, as the oldest son, and Ned will marry inside, as the second. Benjen will serve Winterfell. It’s how these matters are done, Y/N.”

Y/N’s throat closed as she choked up. Her blood was rushing in discomfort. She didn’t want to fight, she wished they could just change the subject. What brought this on? She’d never seen Lyanna in a mood like this. “You don’t — you don’t know that. Maybe my parents will send for me in a month. We don’t know.”

“Maybe they will, but when it’s time for you to leave, they’ll send me away, too. There’s a reason mother doesn’t care if I spurn the lordlings here.”

Lyanna’s anger had broken again, now it was just frustration and sadness. The two girls stood in silence. The flames of the fire made shadows in the room, and that was the only thing that moved for some time. The shadows seemed to grasp at the two of them, little fingers reaching for their dresses and hair. Y/N was the one who stepped forward, wanting to make it better.

“We’ll always be friends,” Y/N said, trying to keep her own choked up voice steady. “No matter what. I won’t ever forget you. I’ll write you a dozen letters a month if you get sent to the south.”

Lyanna was tired. She couldn’t attempt a smile, but she said, “That’s more than you write to Ned. If he ended up in a green field instead of a mountain, would you have sent more?”

“No, the dozen is only for you.” Y/N said, even if she cursed the slowness of her letters to the Eyrie so many times, it felt like a mantra. She touched Lyanna’s shoulder. “Let’s ready for supper, Lyanna. You’ve been riding a long time.”

Lyanna only reluctantly went along with her. After dinner, they changed into their nightgowns and brushed each other’s hair, as usual, but there was no laughter and joking this time. When they huddled under the furs, Lyanna faced away, still deep in her thoughts. Y/N didn’t know what else to say, if anything at all would help, so she closed her eyes.

“What are you reading?” Benjen’s long hair swung back and forth as he hung upside down. Y/N looked up, wondering when he managed to scramble right above her. Just a few minutes ago he was struggling to get on the first branch.

“A letter,” Y/N said, “Although I think you already knew that.”

Benjen grinned. “I did, and I know who it’s from.” He swung back up on the branch and easily moved himself to a standing position. He reached for another branch and lifted himself with ease, starting his disappearance into the leaves. With each branch he climbed, a few leaves fell down. Y/N pulled one from her hair.

She rested against the trunk and returned to her letter. Ned was writing about Robert’s attempt at jousting. He much preferred the melee, but ladies preferred the jousting, he said. Y/N was pleased Ned stayed out of all that. He also tried to doodle a little manta ray, in response to the direwolves and cats and deer she often drew on the margins of her letters. They were… arrow-y looking. Close enough.

I’ll have to pick up some skills from you the next time we meet. I don’t think I’d be a good student, but just watching you paint with my own eyes would be enough. You’ve written about it before, but I think hearing you talk about it would be much different. I want to you to tell me.

Y/N closed the letter hastily, wondering if her beating heart and sweaty palms were showing on her face. She glanced around and caught eyes with Brandon. She kept noticing his staring in the past hour, even though he was across the training yard trying to practice. It was a little strange. Are there leaves in my hair again? She touched her hair from the top of her head to her pearl. Brandon seemed annoyed, so she’d prefer he kept his gaze to himself.

The tree branches shook above her, and she heard feet scuffling around. “Ben, be careful!” Y/N called upward. “You shouldn’t climb so high!”

Benjen either didn’t hear her, or was pretending to not hear. Y/N sighed, folding her letter, stashing it in her belt and standing up. She craned her head, trying to spy the wiry boy through the leaves. He may have been a year younger, but she fretted over him from time to time, thinking of her little brothers back in Whitetide.

“Maybe he’ll climb high enough to catch a cloud and float away.” Brandon was beside her before she knew it, and Y/N was glad he didn’t seem as bothered as she thought. On the contrary, he was amused.

“Maybe,” Y/N giggled. She heard more rattling, but it didn’t sound like leaves. It was metal chains, and coming from a different direction. Behind the two of them, the maester approached them as fast as he could, the old man breathing hard as the chains swayed around his neck. He didn’t seem to care about the mud dirtying the end of his robes.

“What’s happened?” Brandon asked while the maester tried to catch his breath. In all the years she’d been here, Y/N had never seen the man so harried, and it seemed neither had Brandon. For a panicked, irrational moment, Y/N thought there was a raven from Whitetide. Dark wings, dark words.

“Lady… Lady Stark has … a … an illness.” The maester took a deep breath, attempting to compose himself. “She has been … weak, as you know, but … it’s far worse than I thought. She needs to be kept apart from everyone else at the Keep. When was the last time you spoke with her, children?”

Brandon took a moment to respond. “This morning, I talked with her, she— she hugged me, but —”

The maester shook his head. “And you, Lady Y/N?”

“Last night, at dinner,” Y/N said quietly. “She took my hand…”

She remembered the kind gesture, and now weary and pale Lady Stark looked. That night, her eyes looked especially tired. She’d begun to hold onto her husband or one of the servants when she walked to and from her room, the place she stayed in the most nowadays. No one seemed to want to talk about her worsening condition, not even the Lady herself. Out of respect to her, no one mentioned it openly.

The leaves danced around them as Benjen swooped down from a low branch. “Can’t we see her?”

“I just said you cannot,” The maester said. “She will be kept away from here on, and we will burn her things and anything she has come in contact with. Now, if the three of you will come with me, I’ve already spoken with Lord Stark and Lyanna…”

Lady Lyarra Stark died within a week. The children heard of the passing suddenly, as her husband was the only one who could visit her through her last days. No amount of guards or a maester’s lecturing would keep Lord Stark from her bedside.

Y/N stood next to Lyanna at the funeral, allowing her friend to clutch her as they all prayed in the godswood. Lady Stark’s bones had been kept in a beautifully engraved wooden chest, and they would be moved to a place of honor in the crypts, but that was little comfort to the children she left behind.

Y/N said some prayers aloud, mouthed others, but kept her head down the entire time. She heard the servants of Winterfell crying and praying, and clearer than that, Lyanna’s crying into the fur draped around Y/N’s shoulder. Her voice was muffled, but Y/N could still feel her body shaking. Y/N herself was trying to keep her tears from rolling down her face. The warmth of them stung her cold cheeks terribly.

Benjen was quiet on the other side of her, staring up at the red leaves like he was in a daze. Brandon seethed beside his father, who was as old as the stone lords in the crypts. Y/N was anxious to see Lord Stark’s expression, knowing it would either scare her or make her tears come faster.

The Starks stayed behind to keep vigil while the servants and guards returned to the keep. Y/N didn’t know how long she stayed kneeling in the snow. She listened to Lyanna’s quieting tears and remembering the kindnesses Lady Stark had given her. Anytime Y/N missed her own mother, Lady Stark was ready to speak with her, to teach her something, or hold her for a while. Y/N couldn’t imagine how the others felt. She thought of her mother now, safe in Whitetide, and desperately wished she could see her.

“Return to the keep,” Lord Stark said after some time. Y/N still didn’t know how long they’d been outside. “All of you.”

“Father —” Brandon started.

“Go.”

Their lord father’s voice was hoarse and hard. He didn’t look at any of his children as they slowly stood around him. Y/N’s legs had gone completely numb from both the cold and kneeling. She wobbled, and Lyanna tried to help her stay upright, no doubt just as weak-legged herself. Benjen found his way to his sister’s side, holding onto her like she held onto Y/N. It reminded Y/N of when he was younger, tagging alongside the two of them.

Y/N glanced back, noticing that Brandon was still trying to linger by his father. She didn’t know if they exchanged words, but eventually Brandon caught up to them as they walked back to the keep.

They all walked slowly, and the Winterfell that greeted them was eerily quiet. The kitchen staff worked with no cheer or haste, the smith’s anvil was quiet, there were no carts or wagons being pulled through the gate. At the feast hall, the candles were burning low, and there was only one servant tending to the cleaning the floors. Her scrubbing was interrupted by intermittent sniffling.

Ned couldn’t be here, Y/N thought not for the first time. Her heart sunk into her gut, making her feel sick. She knew the others were thinking the same. What could I say? What could I possibly say?

She mechanically walked to the main parlor, sitting down at the windowsill. Lyanna sat by the hearth, Benjen sat beside his sister, and Brandon had split off from them quickly. Y/N looked out the window, glad it faced away from the Godswood. She had a feeling if it did, she’d see Lord Stark still kneeling in the snow. She recalled Ned told her the Eyrie’s godswood was more of a little forest, and her heart ached even further. It almost made her cry again. How are the gods supposed to watch over him? Or hear him when he’s in trouble?

She would wait for Lord Stark to send word, if it hadn’t already been done, then she’d send a letter to Ned herself. She’d paint something, too, something special. She’d do anything, if only she knew what that was. Why couldn’t he be here? Y/N rubbed at her raw eyes and rested her head against the cool glass of the window, letting the chill hit her dizzying, exhausted head.

Y/N stirred and sat up slowly. Her head was aching from the awkward angle she fell asleep at. She squinted out the window, but there was only darkness. Across the room, the fire was low, and a chill was settling in the room. Y/N pulled her fur cloak closer around her and shivered. Where was everyone?

She slipped off the windowsill and wandered the halls. If it was dinnertime, no one woke her up, and she didn’t smell meats cooking as she entered the great hall. Y/N stepped outside into the fresh snow, wondering if the day had all been a terrible dream.

It wasn’t, though, and she couldn’t hide from it. People died all the time, especially women and children. If it wasn’t this sickness, Lady Stark may have died in childbirth. That was a far more common fate, something Y/N would have to worry about herself one day. Some day soon.

She sighed heavily and hesitated at the edge of the godswood. The darkness was all around her, with the warmth and light of Winterfell far behind. She took a step forward, letting her boot sink into the snow. The moon was waning, giving off the slightest light. The white bark of the trees and the snow glowed on a full moon, but tonight, they disappeared.

One foot in front of the other, the snow crunched below Y/N’s feet. She kept thinking about Ned, imagining his expression, what he would say — she would never know, of course, and that made it worse. She could only write and draw, there was no holding and comforting. The thought of holding him hit her so strongly, her body ached. Lady Stark held her when she worried about her uncle at sea, when she caught sick or when she hurt herself. Y/N wanted to hold Ned like that, even if he was far bigger than she. Maybe this was a stupid, girlish, childish thought. Maybe it was, but stupid words on paper didn’t seem like enough.

There was a clear path that let to the heart tree, but the darkness didn’t help her navigate, a strange noise did. It made her jump at first, but there were no wolves in these woods. She listened carefully. There was the distinct sound of someone shuffling around in the snow, like they were standing up. Y/N anxiously wondered if it was Lord Stark. No, he can’t be here still. It’s been half a day …

She jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice call out, echoing off the snow and the trees. “Who goes there?!”

“I-It’s only me,” Y/N started, ready to apologize to Lord Stark, but the voice sounded off. Too young, too angry. “…Brandon? Is that you?”

The person didn’t respond, but she heard boots trudging clumsily through the snow. She felt a presence next to her, and finally she could see his outline. Y/N reached forward and was surprised to not touch a fur cloak or thick surcoat, but a fairly thin tunic that was frigid cold, and the stiff muscles underneath it. Brandon didn’t flinch away from her, so she kept her hold on his forearms.

“Brandon, come inside.” Y/N said. Her own voice was weak, she realized, and she was already shivering. “It’ll get colder, and it’s already so dark. How long have you been here?”

Brandon sniffled, both from the cold and the tears, she assumed. “Father hasn’t come in. I was waiting …”

Y/N shook her head. He must have come right outside after realizing it was dark and Lord Stark still hadn’t returned to the keep. “You can’t stay out here all night. Come inside. Please?”

Brandon didn’t seem easy on his feet, and he was trying to keep his teeth from chattering. “I-I have a vigil to keep. I have to — father is, s-so I should at least try…”

“You’re cold, and exhausted, besides. You ran out here without anything, you fool. Why aren’t you wearing a cloak?”

He mumbled something in return. Y/N pulled the tall boy toward her, wanting to urge him toward the light in the distance. She was ready to give him her modest cloak, just enough to serve until they reached the warmth of Winterfell, but then he wrapped his arms around her. Y/N let out a noise of surprise as his head slumped on her shoulder. Brandon was heavy, but she kept steady. For a moment, it was all still: The godswood around them, Brandon in her arms, the night above them.

Y/N was about to speak, but then she heard a noise, like a deep gasp. Brandon shook from the cold and his own emotion. Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him cry.

Robert shook his leg impatiently, causing the thick heel of his boot to tap against the floor again and again. Normally Lord Arryn would chastise him for his restlessness, but the two of them had been quiet for days. Robert didn’t like quiet, or gloominess. He didn’t want to stay like this a minute longer.

“Has he left his room yet?” Robert asked for the third time.

“Be patient, Robert.” Lord Arryn replied expectedly. “Recall that terrible day you endured.”

He didn’t have to recall his own parents’ demise. Robert thought about it often, a wound that was still fresh, and it only closed up when he drank enough or when a pretty girl sat by him. It’d come back afterward, though, and then he had Ned to talk to.

He shouldn’t have to go through the same thing, Robert thought irritably. The worst part is, he knew Ned wouldn’t want a drink or a pretty girl, or a fight, or a new horse. He would just sit in his own sorrow, brooding in that way he did. The young Baratheon huffed, shifting his restless energy to tapping his fingers on the table. Ned was always talking him out of trouble and listening to his worries — the only person he’d ever spoken to about them. But what did Robert ever do for him?

The Baratheon heir growled in frustration and stood from his seat abruptly. Lord Arryn only glanced up a moment, but Robert was already gone.

He barged into Ned’s room, and was half disappointed Ned wasn’t there — he’d been sitting vigil at the Eyrie’s godswood for too damned long, but that made this next part easier. Ned had several of his girl’s paintings up around his desk, where anyone could see them, but Robert knew where he kept the letters. He opened the bottom drawer and in a wooden box with the direwolf sigil, and there they were.

Robert had read some before. Sometimes Ned would read things aloud, sometimes Robert snuck in here, but they were never that exciting. Always talking about Winterfell or what the horses were doing, nothing salacious like a proper love letter should be. Still, they made Ned happy. Robert picked a few out and tucked them carefully in his doublet.

The grass crunched under his boots as he entered the godswood. The fiery red leaves and snow-white bark looked out of place amongst the rocky Eyrie, he always thought, especially when there was bright green grass and regular trees around the weirwoods. He spotted Ned at the same place he’d been for hours, kneeling. His head was lowered slightly, some of his long brown hair falling around him, and Robert wondered if he was asleep. Then Ned raised his head and turned it.

“Robert?”

“Brought you something.” Robert said. Ned wasn’t getting up, so he awkwardly knelt beside him. Gods, it was murder on the knees, and even in that position he was far taller than Ned. Robert retrieved the letters from his doublet and handed them over.

Ned looked at them with hope, then confusion.

“They aren’t new,” Robert said, chuckling. “I just … I remembered you liked these ones. Y/N was writing something about a festival? And Lyanna stole a sword off your brother. Y/N wrote about her dress, and something about a horse…”

He trailed off, wondering if this was a stupid idea. He was terrible at this. These were the letters with the most pictures, giving life to what Y/N wrote about, as clear as any maester’s history book. Ned stared at the papers in his hands, lightly touching a rare self-portrait Y/N had done of her new gown.

I worked on it for two weeks, although your lady mother helped me several times over. It’s the first one I’ve sewn by myself, and I hope I do it justice. This may not be interesting to you, but I’m proud. It’s cerulean and white.

Lyanna wanted me to draw her with Brandon’s sword. She thinks it’s very funny. ‘How can he call himself a lord when he can’t keep hold of his own sword?’ I thought Benjen was the thief, but Lyanna can be just as clever. It took him all day to realize she’d replaced his with a dull training sword.

Do you remember when you found my pearl? You couldn’t forget, I know, but I still think about it when remove it to brush my hair. I’ll never forget that kindness, Ned.

He smiled for the first time in a week. To Robert’s excitement, he made an expression for the first time in days.

“You can go back home,” Robert offered, wanting to keep the mood up. “Even if it’s just for a short time.”

They were men grown, ten and seven years old. If anything, they should have left the Eyrie by now. Both of them knew it was only a matter of time, though Robert didn’t want to go back to Storm’s End after all these years, having to finally take his lordly duties seriously. Ned was a second son, his duty would be commanding the household guard or visiting with minor houses.

Robert had a feeling if Ned left now, he wouldn’t come back to the Eyrie.

“Perhaps.” The Stark said quietly.

Their easy days had to end eventually. Why did it have to be on such a damned sad note?

Robert looked up at the heart tree. Its eerie, foreign face stared down at him. He had no prayers to give, only a quiet request that when Ned returned to Winterfell, it would be safely. The only noise for a long time was the wind rustling the branches of the white trees and the shuffling of the letters as Ned re-read them.

#ned stark x reader #game of thrones x reader #salt & snow #libra fics #i just realized all the summaries of this fic hint at something sad happening LOL

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hstyleshoney · 4 years

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Stay With Me - part one

AU friends with benefits but things get complicated, like they always do

word count: around 8.3K // angst, alcohol consumption, language

A/N: Hiiiiii! So, back in September I posted a preview kinda thing to a fic I was just casually writing and now I have finally finished it! Took a while but I’ve been going through some shit but now it’s done! It’s gonna be a two part thing (I think) because it turned out way longer than I first expected, and this part is still so long, woops. It’s the first thing I’ve written in YEARS so please be nice haha. (Also, English is not my first language so I’m sorry if some grammar is wrong. I’ve proofread it many times but it could still be bit off in some places.)

AND please let me know if you liked it and if I should post part 2 as well. Feedback is so so so appreciated because it’s been sooooooooo long since I posted anything and I’m scared hahah anyways..!

Hope you like it!

His lips were hot against her skin when he leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“Your place or mine tonight?”

She smiled to herself and her heart skipped a beat when she felt his warm body press against her back. The music was loud around the two of them and she could hardly hear herself think, yet his voice was clear as day. She turned to look at him and was met by his familiar warm grin as he looked right back.

“What makes you think I’ll be going home with you tonight?” she teased.

He snorted and raised his eyebrows, and she had to bite down on the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from smiling too much.

“Well, love” he started and spun her around so he could place his hands on her hips. She felt her cheeks flush under his stare as he pulled her even closer to him. He smelled like beer and tequila mixed with that cologne she loved so much. Her knees weakened and he smirked. “I think we both know you are.”

He was right.

But she wasn’t going to let him have that.

“It’s awfully bold of you to assume such a thing, Mr. Styles.”

“Is it though?” He was still smirking and she felt her knees weaken even more as his tongue poked out to wet his pink lips. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure he would’ve heard it if it wasn’t for the loud music. Sweaty bodies kept bumping into the two of them on the overcrowded dance floor, which normally she couldn’t stand, but she was drunk. Very drunk and she was hungry and tired... and also in a huge need of a wee.

However, now Harry was standing in front of her.

So needless to say nothing else really mattered anymore.

His mere presence made her forget about all the people around them and suddenly her bladder didn’t seem so full after all. That’s the effect he had on her and he knew it. With his soft brown hair that curled so pretty at the tips, his smooth skin and green eyes; there was no way she wasn’t going home with him again tonight. He was the best thing she had ever laid her eyes on and he also wanted to take her home.

So who was she to say no?

“Yours then,” she replied and tried to not sound too eager. Harry squeezed her hips again as she finally confirmed they would indeed go home with one other again and pulled her even closer into him. His chest pressed against hers and she swore she could feel his heartbeat against hers.

“See that wasn’t so hard to say, was it?” She rolled her eyes as she noticed his smug grin and as much as it pained her to do; she pushed him off, pointing a finger into his chest.

“We’re stopping to buy fries on the way though... and you’re paying!”

Harry laughed and agreed, but not before adding; “I can give you something a lot better than fries once we get back.”

And well… she didn’t disagree.

She wasn’t entirely sure when this thing between the two of them started, or how it started even. It was just one of those things that happened one night. Harry first came into her life when her flatmate Louisa started dating his mate Tom during their first year of uni.

The first time she met him they didn’t really speak to each other. It had really just been a case of her admiring him from afar as he was approached by a handful of women at the student bar. She thought he was probably the prettiest guy she had ever laid her eyes on and thought to herself that he was just way too cool to ever notice her.

It was obvious from the start, by just watching him, that he had an aura around him that drew everyone in. People, both boys and girls, flooded around him wherever he went. He was always the center of attention and she understood why. Because not only was he the prettiest guy she had ever seen, he was also one of the nicest guys she had ever met. At first she had just assumed he’d be an arsehole because to be fair she had never really met a guy that got as much attention as him that wasn’t one.

However, as Louias’s and Tom’s relationship grew more serious; the more all of them hung out and she started talking to him rather than just staring from afar. She got to know him and even though the two of them were quite different from each other, they still became good friends.

While she was more of a typical girly girl who enjoyed spending a little too much money on overpriced makeup palettes and listened to whatever songs were in the top list that week Harry was a little more into old school music, bringing up bands and songs she had never heard of before. He did all his shopping at different thrift shops. He wore weird shirts and painted his nails without caring what anyone else thought while she couldn’t even leave her house without checking with all her roommates at least three times if her outfit was okay. She loved scrolling through Instagram. Harry didn’t even have an account.

He was interesting, alluring and cool.

She just wasn’t any of that.

She wasn’t his type and he was simply just out of her league.

Until one night.

It was at the start of their third year at uni and they were out to celebrate their friend Jax’s birthday. To make a complicated story short, there had just been a ridiculous amount of alcohol consumed and when she told everyone she was leaving Harry stood up too and announced he’d come with her, and because everyone was so drunk, the two of them included, no one thought more about it.

They left the club together. Harry got them an Uber and when it stopped outside her house he got out as well.

Kisses were shared and clothes came off and the next day she thought she was still dreaming when Harry was right there next to her when she woke up. There was no awkwardness though as they shared a cup of tea and he made them a full English breakfast to cure their hangovers.

And then they did the same thing again next weekend and it kinda just became a thing. That was three months ago now and it was still nothing they really talked about. Which was fine; she didn’t really want to talk about it. Because what was she supposed to say? Whatever was going on between them was working and she didn’t want to complicate things.

She was fine with just waking up next to him every now and again. Especially now when the nights were getting colder it was just nice to have a warm body to snuggle up to.

It was an agreement that worked well for both of them, even if she did fancy him a little it wasn’t a full-blown crush and Harry kept calling her his friend so that’s what she also settled on calling herself. She knew she wasn’t the type of girl he usually went for and that somehow made it easier to keep her feelings for him platonic. He was too cool for her anyway.

This way she just didn’t have to swipe through tinder or chat some random guy up at the bar to get laid.

Louisa kept warning her that she was going to get her heart broken but it was just sex. Amazing sex. He made her feel like no other man ever had. Harry knew just how to work her and it made her lose her breath every single time. Her whole body was on fire anytime he touched her. She didn’t want to think about getting her heart broken.

“What time is it?”

Harry’s raspy voice startled her out of her thoughts and his body vibrated against hers under the duvet as he chuckled at her reaction. His arm was slung over her waist loosely and she could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, leaving goosebumps all over her skin.

“I dunno,” she whispered back and leaned into his touch a little more. The hair on his legs tickled her smoother ones and she could feel her skin sticking against his, but neither of them made any effort to move away from each other. It was still early though, that much she knew. The sun was barely shining in through the blinds in Harry’s bedroom.

“Hm,” he hummed and tightened his grip a little. “Can’t sleep?”

“Just thinking. “

“About…?”

“Nothing really.”

Harry hummed again but didn’t say anything else. They laid in silence while Harry circled his thumb over her stomach lightly. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. Just the two of them, tangled in each other’s naked bodies and the sheets. She could feel a hangover coming over her slowly. Her head felt heavy and throbbed painfully against the soft pillows. There was a glass of water on the bedside table tempting her but reaching out for it meant moving away from Harry and she was just way too comfortable to do so.

It wasn’t long until Harry’s soft snores filled the room again and his thumb stilled. She sighed deeply, sleep creeping over her too. They were friends. Friends that slept together and cuddled. Nothing else. Just friends.

… but she really could stay like this forever.

The next time she woke up Harry wasn’t next to her anymore and the room was a lot brighter. A weak whimper left her lips and she buried her face into the pillow; the sunlight too much for her sensitive eyes and raging headache, which only seemed to have gotten worse.

Blindly she reached out for the glass she’d spotted earlier, but instead of actually getting a hold of it it was knocked over. It landed on the floor with a soft thud and her eyes shot open at the sound. Glancing down she noticed that, thankfully, the glass hadn’t broken into a million pieces, but unfortunately there was water everywhere.

“Damn it,” she muttered and fell back, hiding her face in the pillow again. Stupid water. Stupid hangover. Stupid everything.

Her head was spinning and her body ached. This hangover was going to be rough and she cursed herself for letting Jax and Beth persuade her into taking all those shots the night before. She knew it was going to come back and bite her in the ass today. Stupid Jax. Stupid Beth. Stupid shots.

Outside the bedroom she could hear Harry roaming around in the kitchen, talking to his flatmate Isaac and every now and then he’d sing along to the music playing softly in the background. She relaxed as she listened to his voice. At least there was something good about this morning.

And it was enough to eventually get her out of bed.

She found her black underwear at the bottom of the bed and pulled them on, stepping around the water she had just spilled as she got out and made a mental note to herself to fix that mess later.

The black strap dress and oversized blazer from the night before were stern across the floor and she stared at them for a long time before deciding she wasn’t in the mood to put them back on at this time. Looking around the room she spotted something very familiar. The yellow jumper she always wore when she slept over was hung neatly over Harry’s chair by the desk, waiting for her, and she smiled to herself knowing he’d put it there for her to wear.

Always so considerate.

“Jesus, you look like absolute shit,” Isaac teased when she eventually emerged from the bedroom and into the kitchen “Wild night?”

“Fuck off,” she groaned and walked straight past him and over to the sink to pour herself a glass of water, downing it in pretty much one gulp. It spilled down her chin and onto the jumper, leaving a big wet stain, but she really couldn’t care less. Water had never tasted better.

“Ah, I’m just saying,” Isaac laughed. “You look like you got run over by a truck.”

“Feels like I was,” she admitted and slumped down on one of the chairs next to the kitchen counter. “Ugh, I’m never drinking again.”

“Ha! Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

The kitchen was surprisingly cold and she regretted not stealing a pair of Harry’s sweatpants before leaving his warm comfy bedroom. She let her eyes wander over to him and felt her pulse pick up. Harry was standing shirtless in the kitchen, only dressed in his regular Nike sports shorts, and she just couldn’t stop herself from staring at his tattoos and toned chest. The same chest she’d left kisses all over just hours ago and it gave her goosebumps just thinking about. He had a spatula in one of his hands and a cup of coffee in the other. As always, he was perfect and she looked like a mess. Great.

Harry smirked as he caught her staring, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Do you want some breakfast?” he asked instead.

“Please.”

A minute later he placed a plate of eggs and some toast in front of her. The smell of it made her nauseous but she also knew that if she didn’t eat anything she was going to feel a lot worse soon. She’d much rather crawl back into Harry’s bed and maybe sleep for another hour or two, preferably with him beside her.

But now she had a plate of food in front of her that Harry had made and it would be rude to at least not try to eat some. So she ate in silence while listening to Harry tell Isaac about the previous night and slowly she realized that she had a few blackouts from the night.

Shit, how much did I drink?

She really shouldn’t have taken those shots. Her mother would have lectured her for hours if she knew about the heavy party nights that sometimes occurred, having a strong belief alcohol was indeed a gift from the devil himself. Alcohol and sugar. She had lost count of the number of books her mother had given her about healthy living and mindful thinking, and she was pretty sure she was getting another one for Christmas. Harry once found her hidden stash of books she’d put in the back of her closet and begged her for one. She happily gave it to him.

Harry would probably love her mother’s rants about the dangers of alcohol and unhealthy meals she thought to herself and almost rolled her eyes. She could picture it now; Harry and her mother sharing recipes with each other that claimed your life would be twenty years longer and ganging up on her about the lack of exercise she did. What a nightmare.

Yet, she had to ignore the warm feeling in her belly at the thought of Harry getting along with her mother.

“Alright well,” Isaac announced after a while and stood up. “I gotta get to work. Fuckin’ Jake called in sick so now I gotta cover his shift at the shop.”

“Sucks mate,” Harry replied while he shoved the last piece of his toast into his mouth. “At least you’re getting some extra cash.”

“Yeah yeah, something like that,” Isaac muttered as he dropped his dirty plate into the sink. “I’ll see you guys later. Hope you feel better party girl!”

She shot him a weak smile and a nod as a thank you. Her plate of food was still half full and the cup of tea Harry had also made for her was now cold. She just couldn’t force herself to eat more. Stupid shots.

“You really do look like you got run over by a truck,” Harry chuckled when Isaac was gone and she sent him a glare. “How much did you drink? Didn’t realize you were that drunk when we left.”

“I actually have no idea. I think Jax and Beth might have poisoned me.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “That explains it.”

“Mm.“

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, that’s okay” she told him. “Kinda just wanna go back to bed if I’m honest.”

“‘S your lucky day then,” Harry said and rose to his feet, offering his hand out to her. “Let’s go.”

She could have cried out of happiness when she finally crawled back into Harry’s comfortable bed. The sheets had never been more comforting as she pulled them up to her chin and made herself into a little cocoon. She never wanted to leave his bed ever again. “You are ridiculous.”

She peeked out at him from under the duvet and noticed him smiling down at her fondly, but his smile soon turned into a small frown. “Is that water all over the floor?”

“Oh yeah... that was me. Sorry,” she pouted.

“I repeat, you are ridiculous,” he rolled his eyes but she also knew he wasn’t upset when she noticed his little dimple.

He quickly cleaned up the mess she had created earlier and then jumped up to join her. The bed shook as he landed and she groaned as another wave of nausea washed over her. But having him next to her again made her forget all about it. He smelled so good. How did he always smell so good?

She rested her head on his shoulder as he pulled up his laptop and signed onto his Netflix account, picking the first random movie that caught his interest.

And that’s how the two of them spent the next few hours. Just laying in bed together watching random movies on Netflix with her dozing in and out of sleep for most of the time. Harry kept running his fingers through her hair, gently scratching the top of her head and it was probably the most soothing thing she had ever experienced.

Eventually, she started feeling better but made no effort to move or get up.

Not until he did.

“I’m gonna take a shower quickly,” he announced as the third movie finished. She followed him with her gaze as he got up and pulled out a pair of fresh boxers out of his drawer. Her heart beat a little extra. “You can watch something else if you want.”

“Thanks. Are you doing something later or?” she asked casually and pulled his computer onto her lap.

“Yeah, uh, I forgot I have a date actually.”

She’s pretty sure she forgot how to breathe then.

A date.

Harry had a date.

“Oh... “ is all she managed to say. Her mouth felt as dry as it did when she woke up earlier that morning and she racked her brain for something else to say. Unfortunately there was nothing. Harry stopped and looked at her.

“Is - I mean... um, is that okay?”

“What?”

She felt stupid. So utterly stupid but she just couldn’t find the words to speak. She felt weird, even though she knew he was technically only her friend and she knew they were not even close to being exclusive. But Harry was going on a date. Like a proper date. Not just hooking up after a night out. A date. With someone else.

“Are you okay with me going on a date... ?” he asked slowly, inspecting her closely and that’s when she realized she needed to say something fast.

“Yeah, no, of course!” she tried to laugh but it was more of a strange cackle coming out of her mouth rather than a laugh. Harry eyed her for another minute and she sat up. Her palms were sweaty and her cheeks hot. She felt like a bigger mess now than she had all morning. “Harry, we’re friends. Why would I care if you go on a date?”

Harry looked at her a bit startled.

“Well, because we-”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted before he could finish and cursed herself yet again for being so fucking weird. They were friends. She had no reason to not be okay with it. She knew she wasn’t his type. Of course he was going on a date with someone else. She knew this and she needed to get herself together before he wanted to talk about something related to the two of them and make things complicated. The thing between them wasn’t something they ever talked about and she refused to start doing it now. “I’m excited for you even,” she shot him the biggest fake smile she could muster. “Who is she?”

What a stupid question.

“Uh, a friend of Matt’s or something like that,” he shrugged, but he looked at her with uncertainty written all across his face; almost like he didn’t believe a single word she was saying. “I don’t know really. He set us up.”

“Cool.”

“Cool... ?”

Suddenly she doesn’t want to be in his bed anymore. For the very first time, she felt awkward sitting in front of him.

“Yeah, cool.”

“Oookay.”

Silence.

It’s uncomfortable and she knew she messed this up. Both of them were frozen in place and she had to look away from him before it was all too much. She was so aware of how her cheeks had turned into a deep color of red and she felt nauseous, only this time she knew it was not from the alcohol.

“I’m just,” Harry coughed in an attempt to break the heavy tension and she wanted nothing more than to disappear. “I’m gonna go take that shower.” He pointed awkwardly towards the door.

“Yeah, uh,” she said and tried her absolute hardest to get herself back together. To act normal. “I’m going to head home anyways I think.”

“No, you don’t-”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted him again. “Beth wanted to have pizza night and I should stop being such a lazy ass anyways. I have some studying to do before my lecture tomorrow too, soo... yeah, gonna head home.”

Harry looked at her for a moment, scanning her face after any other sign that something was wrong, but she managed to keep it together and he nodded.

“Alright, well I’ll see you around yeah?”

“Of course.”

When he left the room she let out a breath she’d been holding ever since Harry first mentioned the word ‘date’. She also realized she did not like the way she just reacted and that maybe, very possibly, Lou might have been right.

She was fucked.

For the next few days she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry and his date. She wished she could go back in time and take back everything she said; wished she would have reacted differently. It was hard to think about anything else and all she wanted to do was to go and see him and ask him all about it. How did it go? Was she nice? What did they do? Was he going to see her again? Did they kiss?

And if she hadn’t been so embarrassed about her behaviour she probably would've done so, but she had no explanation as to why she’d been so weird and she was too scared to go deeper into her own feelings and find one. So as much as she wanted to see him she was also extremely terrified to do so.

But it was really eating her up.

She couldn’t focus on anything else.

And it was strange.

Before all this, she was sure of her feelings towards Harry. Sure he was attractive, he was nice and he made her laugh, but she thought she’d managed to keep it platonic. Now she just felt weird. Everything about their arrangement felt weird, and she didn’t know what to do. Deep down she knew there wasn’t much she could actually do about it. He went on a date and she was his friend. Friends with benefits. They weren’t anything exclusive. He hadn’t done anything wrong. She told him so herself.

Still, something felt wrong.

On Thursday night their whole gang made plans to meet up for their regular quiz night down at the pub and she stood in front of her mirror for an hour, preparing herself to see him again. She changed her outfit five times and rehearsed what to say when she saw him over and over again.

Only for him to not show up.

So instead of being squished into his side all night, she was stuck between Jax and Louisa and she found herself missing him. She didn’t even have to ask to know he was on another date, yet when Isaac confirmed it later she felt her heart drop down to her stomach.

Louisa glanced over at her when Isaac told them and she forced a smile, not ready to let anyone know about the weird feeling in her chest. Louisa also tried to bring it up on their way home, but she brushed it off with the same thing she always did.

“We’re just friends.”

But once she was home in bed it was harder to act like nothing was troubling her. Harry was out on another date and it shouldn’t be bothering her but it did. It bothered her a lot. He should’ve been right there with her, laughing along at their friends' jokes all night and then suggest coming back home with her.

Now he just wasn't and it felt wrong. It was only three months ago that he came home with her for the first time but somehow it wasn’t until now she realized that she may have gotten a little too used to it.

It was so stupid the whole thing. Like ridiculously so.

She knew from the first night that she would never be more than a few drunken nights to him. That his touch wasn’t hers to keep. It belonged to someone else. So why did it feel so weird now?

On Friday night, Beth invited a few people over from uni to their place for a game night and some wine. She joined them but decided to stay away from the wine. They played monopoly for most of the evening while gossiping about everyone they knew. It was nice. It was fun. She won at monopoly. But most importantly it helped her to not worry about what Harry was doing or who he was seeing. It felt like her brain got a long awaited break from everything and she slept better that night than she had all week.

It was on Saturday it all came crashing down.

They were all going out. The whole gang. As always everyone had shown up for pre-drinks at the house she shared with Louisa, Beth and Aliyah as it was the biggest one. Jax had as usual brought along a bottle of Fireball that he forced everyone take a shot out of. Beth refused to let anyone else control the music. Tom and Louisa were loved up on the sofa together. Isaac was in the kitchen mixing drinks for everyone while Aliyah complained about Beth’s choice of music. All in all it was a pretty typical Saturday night and it was all going well.

Until Harry showed up. With a girl.

She almost dropped her drink when she saw them and everyone in the room turned to look at her when they entered. Once again she had to force a smile to assure them she didn't care and more than ever before she tried to ignore the way her heart sank inside her chest.

And for some very odd reason; she was the first to stand up and greet Harry’s new lady friend. Maybe because everyone was looking at her and it felt like they were just waiting for her to start crying in front of everyone. She didn’t want their pity so she stood and shook this new girl’s hand, acting like everything was completely fine.

“Cleo,” the girl introduced herself with a cheery smile.

And that was about it.

After that she didn’t really talk to her anymore. That’s something she left for the rest of the group to do.

It was hard to concentrate on anything else for the rest of the evening and despite promising herself to not take a shot from Jax’s bottle of Fireball; she had three. The alcohol was warm as it made its way down her throat and she noticed Louisa watching her with worried eyes.

And Harry? She couldn’t even look at him. He tried to talk to her and start a conversation at one point but it felt like her brain was about to explode from anxiety so she quickly excused herself and hid in the bathroom for a good twenty minutes.

She tried her very best to be engaged in the conversations around her and she tried so hard to have a good time. Just like she had the night before. But with Harry right there with Cleo it was fucking impossible and she felt like a green little goblin watching the new pair.

Cleo was pretty much everything she expected her to be and more. She just couldn’t stop staring at them. Harry had a hand on her thigh and she was so polite to everyone. Just like him. She had tasteful tattoos all over and it was almost like the two of them had coordinated their outfits before coming over. Both dressed in checkered prints and matching colors of pink and red. She felt so stupid in her boring and basic black jumpsuit and her dull eye make-up.

Cleo was so effortlessly pretty and she just wasn’t.

It was a slap in the face just how right they looked together.

And it just got worse when they arrived at the club because under the flashing lights on the dance floor she saw how Harry leaned in and kissed Cleo. One of his hands was low on her back while the other caressed her face. Everything was spinning as she watched them kiss she knew it was not only because of the alcohol in her veins.

It hit her hard. Because a small, a very small, and naive part of her thought that maybe he’d still want to go home with her and not Cleo. But as she watched him kiss Cleo the way he used to kiss her ruined all hope she had ridiculously built up.

And maybe it wasn’t the kiss itself that hurt so much but more the fact that Harry was now with someone else and it was real. It was so bloody real. Just last week it was her and now he was kissing Cleo and had barely looked in her direction all night. And even though he technically hadn’t done anything wrong it still hurt and she was angry. Angry with him for kissing someone else, but mostly at herself for still wanting him. For wanting to walk right up and pull him away and take him home. She still wanted him despite everything, but she couldn’t have him.

So instead she had some tequila.

Except, tequila probably wasn’t the best company because in the wee hours of the night she regretted every single shot she had taken. The alcohol in her body made her stomach turn heavily and it was a miracle she even made it into a bathroom stall before it all came back up. Someone on the other side of the stall asked if she was okay but she could barely hear them over the loud buzzing in her ears and her own gagging.

It took her several minutes before she found the strength to get back up on her feet, brushing away the dirt from her jumpsuit, trying desperately not to think about all the germs she had most likely caught from resting so long against a public toilet seat.

As she exited the stall another girl looked over and she didn’t even try to pretend like she hadn’t just been throwing her guts up minutes ago. Instead, she splashed some cold water on her face and took a steady grip of the sink to keep herself standing up.

Fuck.

When she stumbled out of the bathroom a while later she had to lean against the walls to not fall over. The dim lighting in the club made it even harder for her to see where she was going and she kept bumping into bodies as she eventually made her way through the crowd.

Then all of a sudden someone grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Heeeey, party-girl, are you okay?”

The buzzing was still loud in her ears and her vision was blurry, but she still somehow managed to recognize the voice and the striking blonde hair. Isaac. As soon as she knew it wasn’t a complete stranger that had grabbed her she fell into him without a warning and he stumbled a little as he tried to catch her body. “Woah, steady on.”

She tried to talk to him. Tried to explain how she got to this point but no coherent words were coming out of her mouth and she had to use his whole body for support. He wrapped an arm around her and hoisted her up a little before taking a hold of her chin so he could get a good look of her face. She could tell that he was talking to her, his mouth was moving, but she had no idea what he was actually saying. It was too loud and she was too drunk. The club atmosphere made her stomach turn once more and all she wanted to do was to get out of there before she was sick all over again.

And somehow she managed to communicate that to Isaac.

The air was cool and refreshing when they finally made it out of the club and she was clinging onto Isaac as if her life depended on him. He had a strong arm wrapped around her as he pulled out his phone with his other hand to get an Uber. As they waited for it to show up Isaac slowly guided her over and sat her down on the curb next to the road. He crouched down in front of her and took a hold of her chin again. That’s when the first tears fell. She didn’t even try to hide it, once again too drunk and too sad to care if Isaac saw that she was crying. His eyes widened as he noticed.

“Heey, noooo, no, don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

She didn’t know what to tell him. Everything was spinning too much to be able to think of what to say. The alcohol and emotions had taken over all of her senses and it was all just too much. There was only one explanation for her behavior tonight after all and how would she even begin to explain it to him? She had no idea. So all she said was

“Cleo.”

Isaac didn’t say anything in response but she was pretty sure he knew exactly what it meant when he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Nothing more was said as they waited for the Uber to show up and the last thing she remembered was crying about not having the key for her house.

The next morning was arguably the worst morning of her life, which seemed quite fitting as she’d had the worst evening of her life the previous night. Most of the morning was spent on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, head first down the toilet, regretting every single decision from last night.

This time though it was all her own fault. There was no one else to blame for all the shots she downed but herself.

It was embarrassing. So so embarrassing how drunk she got and how much Isaac had to take care of her. He had brought her back to his and Harry’s shared flat after they couldn’t find her key and realized she was locked out from her own home. She cried her eyes out in the Uber while Isaac tried to comfort her and when they got out she almost got vomit all over his new sneakers.

However, Isaac was nice about it all. He didn’t say anything and just helped her inside, put her down on the sofa, made sure she drank some water and covered her with a blanket. She couldn’t remember exactly what she told him but she knew she had talked about Harry and it was killing her.

But Isaac continued to be nice and he didn’t bring it up when he wandered in and said good morning.

“Y’alright?”

“I feel like death,” she confessed and her throat hurt a little from being sick all last night and earlier that morning. Isaac chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

She bit the bottom of her lip and struggled to look at him where he sat on the armchair opposite the sofa she was spread out over. She had known him for as long as she had known Harry, but she had never actually been alone with him in a room and now when she was sober she felt so stupid, and also so incredibly self-conscious because she knew her make-up from last night was smudged all over her face and she had vomit on her jumpsuit and all over her hair. It was the lowest she’d ever been.

“So um,” she grumbled. “Thanks for last night, eh... yeah, I don’t know. I’m sorry for being a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Isaac waved it off and smiled at her. “We’ve all been there.”

“Yeah, well, thank you anyway.” She still couldn’t look at him as she spoke. Because he knew. He knew her feelings for Harry had changed and she didn’t know how to act now.

“So much for never drinking again huh?” he joked lightly to ease the mood and she forced a laugh.

“Yeah, didn’t stick to that one, did I?”

Silence fell between them after that, but in some ways, it was a comfortable one. Isaac sat in his chair and scrolled through his phone as he drank his morning coffee while she just laid on the sofa and tried to collect her mind and emotions. He offered to make breakfast but there was just no way she was going to be able to stomach it. Water was pretty much all that her stomach allowed and she was barely holding onto that. It was early still and she could tell it was raining heavily outside as the raindrops drummed heavily against the windows. It was comfortable though. Pleasant even.

And then, out of nowhere, Cleo emerged from Harry’s bedroom and all the emotions from last night washed over her like a tsunami.

Plus, it felt like someone was playing a practical joke on her when she saw that Cleo was wearing Harry’s shirt from the night before.

“Good morning!” Cleo was as cheery as she was last night and looked even better. Issac nodded and greeted Cleo politely. To make things worse Cleo sat down in the other armchair and started a conversation. Time stopped as she watched Cleo and Isaac talk and it felt like someone suffocated her with one of the pillows. “Did you guys have a good night then?”

She couldn’t take her eyes off Cleo, who looked perfect even after a night out. Her hair was still flawless and her skin looked like it was glowing. It wasn’t ideal for anyone to see or be next to Cleo when they woke up after a chaotic night out and they themselves were covered in vomit. It honestly made her more nauseous than her hangover had all morning and she’d probably never felt as ugly as she did in that moment laying next to Cleo.

“It was decent, yeah,” Isaac said and then looked at her. His eyes filled with pity and she hated it. She hated it so much. “You?”

“It was super fun,” Cleo answered with a big smile. “Harry and I got in sooooo late though. We stopped to get some food down at that kebab place around the corner before we got in and I swear to God it was the best food I’ve had in my life! Thanks for letting me come out with you guys.”

And just like that, it was all too much. There was just no way she could sit there and talk to the girl who was dating the boy she had come to realize she liked more than just a friend. There was a lot she could do and put up with, but that wasn’t one of those things.

“Um, excuse me,” she mumbled as she got up from the sofa. Isaac called out her name but she ignored it. Her whole body ached and her head felt heavy. She had no idea how she was actually going to make it home in this state but she’d try her damn hardest, even if she was sick along the way it would be better than staying here.

Then she heard her name being called again.

This time however it was from someone else.

Someone whose voice she’d recognize anywhere.

Harry.

“What are you doing here?” He looked at her with furrowed brows, clearly not expecting to see her.

“Oh, eh, hey,” she managed to croak out and fought back the urge to be sick all over again. “I came back with Isaac last night.”

“You uh, you came back with Isaac?” Harry asked slowly, his eyes never leaving her as a small line formed between his brows. He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it just as fast. The silence that fell between them then was defeating.

“I mean, I wasn’t feeling very well so he helped me out a little.”

“Oh, okay,” he nodded and the corner of his mouth twisted into a small smile, but then it faltered just as fast. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” She knew she was being short with him and the look he gave her burned into her skin, but with tears threatening to fall at any moment it was a conversation she really didn’t want to have. Not with him. Not right now. “Look, Harry, I gotta go.”

“What?” he said and pushed himself off the door frame he leaned against, and as he came closer she took a step back. “You’re more than welcome to stay. It’s so early still and by the sounds of it it’s bucketing down outside. Stay for some breakfast. I was gonna make some pancakes.”

“I have to go.”

“Wait,” he called after her when she turned her back to him and got ready to leave. “Hey, wait a minute!”

She didn’t really care at that point though. Whatever thing she and Harry had was already gone and there was nothing that could make things worse than what they were now. She just wanted to get out and get as far away from him as fast as possible.

So she left without saying another word to Harry despite him calling her name.

- “Harry’s a fucking prick anyways,” Aliyah began and threw her hands up dramatically. “Like, is he just going to sleep with you one week and then replace you next week? No, fuck that. You deserve better.”

“He did tell me about it though,” she noted with a small sniffle and curled up further under her blanket. “I mean, he did tell me he was going on a date so it’s not like he lied or I don’t know... went behind my back.”

“Yeah, well, he’s still a prick,” Aliyah grumbled and slumped back against the sofa, arms crossed over her chest.

“Besides, we’re just friends, you know... ”

“You’re clearly more than just friends though,” Louisa added carefully with knowing eyes. “Like, I hate to break it to you but it’s pretty obvious you like him.”

“I... “ she trailed off not knowing how to respond to that. Because she knew she couldn’t keep denying it anymore. Not after showing up at her own house, drenched from the rain with red puffy eyes in last night’s clothes and without a key. No matter how scary it was to admit what she had buried inside her heart for so long it was impossible to deny it any longer. “Yeah. I do. I do like him.”

She let out a huge breath as she finally admitted it. It was strange, but also so right. The feelings she had for Harry was something she had buried inside for so long and it was freeing almost to now admit it out loud in front of her best friends.

“Maybe you should tell him that?” Beth suggested.

She almost laughed.

“That’s definitely not happening,” she shut down the suggestion straight away. There was no way she was telling him how she felt. Especially not now. “He obviously doesn't like me back, and besides he has Cleo now, and you know.. he’s like actually dating her and stuff so…”

“So what?” Beth cut in. “He might like you too. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Me?” she scoffed. “Yeah, I highly doubt that.”

Beth shrugged.

“I don’t know. I think he might do.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anymore does it? He has Cleo now.”

“You won’t know unless you ask,” Louisa pointed out with a small twinkle in her eyes. Before she had the chance to object to the faulty statement the sound of the doorbell ringing echoed through the house.

“That’s probably the food,” Beth announced and stood up swiftly. “I’ll go get it.”

She gave Beth a small smile and wiped her wet cheeks with the ends of her blanket. As soon as she had left Harry’s flat earlier that morning she broke down in tears and called Louisa who offered to come to pick her up straight away but she declined, needing some time for herself before facing anyone.

But after showing up a mess, drenched from the rain in last night’s clothes after walking all the way home it was clear that she needed all her friends today. So Aliyah ran her a bath while Beth ordered food and Louisa went out for snacks and her favorite drink.

And she couldn’t be more grateful.

“Uhm,” Beth popped her head back in the living room and it was obvious by the look on Beth’s face that something was off. “It’s Harry.”

“W-what?”

For a moment she thought that maybe Beth was just taking the piss but judging by the confusion spreading across the room she quickly realized that wasn’t the case. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“You sure?” Louisa asked. “This might be the perfect opportunity to talk things through.”

“No,” she shook her head quickly. “I can’t. Not now.”

“I’ll go talk to him!” Aliyah announced with fire in her eyes and leaped off the sofa in one go, only to have Beth stop her in the doorway.

“I think maybe I should talk to him,” she offered and looked at Aliyah with both her eyebrows raised knowingly. Aliyah only mumbled something under her breath but accepted Beth’s proposal and returned to her spot on the sofa without a fuss.

“You okay?” Louisa asked when Beth disappeared again to go talk to the boy who had her heart aching so badly. Louisa reached out to squeeze her knee gently when she didn’t respond. She just didn't know what to say; because she wasn’t okay. She was very much far from okay today.

Tears welled up in her eyes for the hundredth time and she shook her head and attempted to blink her tears away. She didn’t want to cry anymore. Louisa sighed and pulled her closer and wrapped her arms around her in a long hug. It was embarrassing really how much she had cried all day but she just couldn't stop. Never in a million years did she think she’d ever get so upset over a guy.

But it was Harry.

Harry who left jumpers out for her to wear after she stayed at his flat. Harry who made her breakfast in the morning and knew exactly how she liked her tea. Harry who made her laugh until she couldn’t breathe anymore. Harry who rubbed her back after a night out. Harry who let her steal all of the duvet in her sleep even though he was cold too. Harry who texted her stupid jokes just because he knew she liked them. Harry who also texted her cute pictures of puppies because she loved dogs. Harry who made her feel like no man ever had.

Harry who was now with Cleo.

Cleo who was absolutely perfect for him. Cleo who probably went thrift shopping with him and helped him find silly shirts with crazy prints and knew about all the bands he always talked about.

Cleo who was just so much better than her.

Harry Styles 8:27 AM Heeeyyy are you mad at me?

Harry Styles 10:12 AM Hello?

Harry Styles 10:46 AM Ok so mad then? will you pls talk to me? don’t like the way you stormed off earlier :/

Harry Styles 12:01 PM Hellloooooooo? pls talk to me

Harry Styles 12:30 PM Isaac told me you were quite upset last night... did something happen?

Harry Styles 12:56 PM You’re making me a bit worried, did you make it home okay?

Harry Styles 1:15 PM I tried calling a few times but it’s not really coming through.. Are you okay?

Harry Styles 2:49 PM I'm coming over

Harry Styles 4:37 PM Beth said you weren’t feeling so well, I hope you feel better soon, make sure you drink loads of water! .xx

Harry Styles 11:26 PM Ok sooo, i dunno whats going on. i dunno if Beth lied to me today or not... i just hope you're okay. you know you can talk to me if something is bothering you right?

Goodnight .xxx

PART 2 ♡

Let me know your thoughts. Thank you for reading! <3

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry #harry styles #harry styles concept #harry styles au #harry styles angst #my writing #fanfic #harry styles x you #hs #writing #harry fic #harry styles fic #stay with me #SWM

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singledarkshade · 3 years

Text

Stuck Together

Summary: When a mission goes wrong, Rip and John need some help to break a curse leading them to Miranda. But will Rip's newly re-established relationship with her survive. Author’s Note: Rip Week Day 2: “Have you two considered couples counselling?” – Who should Rip be with and do they need counselling to stay together? Or it’s not romantic help he needs but a different kind of counselling. Over to you. Enjoy. ********************************************* “Have you two considered couples counselling?”

The two men standing in her living room stopped arguing at the question and turned to where Miranda stood watching them with an amused smile.

“Okay,” she said, as silence had finally descended, “Now I have your attention one of you, and only one,” she cut them off sharply, “Tell me exactly what happened?”

Rip and John shared a look with John finally conceding to let the other man speak. They were here to get his girlfriend’s help after all.

“I was sent to retrieve a book that went missing when it wasn’t supposed to,” Rip explained, “It needs to be returned to the Cairo Museum so that it can be stolen at the correct time.”

Miranda nodded, “Since John Constantine is here, I’m assuming this book has a supernatural connection.”

“It’s a text for summoning creatures from the underworld, amongst other things,” John explained, “I heard it was being sold so thought I would see if I could pick it up and get it out of the hands of anyone who could use it for ‘nefarious purposes’.”

“Okay,” Miranda said, “So, how did it go from a simple retrieval to what happened?”

The two men looked at one another and Rip sighed, “There was an unforeseen complication.”

Rip checked his weapons before asking, “Anything?”

“I’m afraid not, Captain,” Gideon replied, “Mr Constantine isn’t answering his phone.”

“Honestly,” Rip shook his head frustrated, “The one time I actually need his help and I can’t get a hold of him.”

“It is possible that Mr Constantine will be at the sale,” Gideon reminded him, “Considering the item is something he would be interested in.”

Rip nodded, “You’re right. Okay, I am ready. Are you detecting anything I should know about?”

“Not currently,” Gideon replied, “However magic is not always something my sensors can detect.”

“I can always hope,” Rip noted as he headed to the cargo bay.

“Captain,” Gideon said softly, “Please do not rush this mission in your haste to return to Lieutenant Coburn. She will understand if you are not able to spend her birthday with her.”

Grimacing Rip patted the bulkhead, “I know, Gideon but we only found one another again three months ago and I want to spend the day with her.”

“Then you should go now and finish your mission.”

Smiling, Rip patted the bulkhead once more before starting out to find where the book was going to be sold. Heading away from the wasteland he’d parked the Waverider on, Rip walked towards the warehouse that was being used for a marketplace for those in the sorcery/magic business. The place was dank, dirty, and smelled absolutely disgusting.

“And to think I could be having dinner with Miranda,” Rip muttered to himself as he slid into the marketplace.

Looking around he spotted the auction he was looking for, along with a familiar face.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” John Constantine demanded when Rip arrived at his side.

“Hello to you too, John,” Rip replied dryly.

Rolling his eyes, John asked again, “What are you doing here, Hunter?”

“I’m here to collect a book called ‘De Spirituum Summoing’,” Rip told him.

John frowned, “What do the Time Masters want with a book of summoning spells?”

“To put it back in its rightful place,” Rip replied, “And if you ever answered your phone, you’d know this.”

John grimaced slightly, “Yeah too many people I’m trying to avoid know that number.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t put it on your business cards,” Rip reminded him.

Before the sorcerer could retort, the auction began and both men focussed on it.

“Is there anything specific you’re after,” Rip murmured softly as they watched several different items bought by the group around them.

John sighed, “I’m after the book too. It needs to be taken out of circulation.”

“Here it comes,” Rip said.

“How much money do you have on you?” John asked.

Rip smiled slightly, “More than enough.”

“Good,” John replied, “Because there is someone I recognise over there who might be after the book and can outbid me a hundred times over.”

“Did you win the auction?” Miranda demanded when Rip stopped talking.

John and Rip swapped glances before John replied, “Yes.”

“So, what happened?” she sighed.

Rip grimaced, “Well…”

“Where’s my book?” Rip demanded angrily after the auction as the dealer looked at him dumbly.

John sighed, waving his hand in front of the man’s glazed eyes, “He has no idea. It’s a spell. He probably doesn’t remember his own name right now, never mind who took the book. But I have an idea who has it.”

Rip followed John through the maze of the marketplace, dodging around people as he tried not to notice the strange objects being sold. They headed out the warehouse and saw the man who had been bidding against Rip heading towards a van.

“Oi,” John yelled, “Magor, you disgusting bastard. Where’s my mate’s book?”

Rip frowned as he got a good look at the other man, he was thin almost skeletal with yellowing skin and nicotine yellow thinning greasy hair. He gripped the bag he was holding tightly to him as he pressed back against the side of the van.

Rip drew his gun while John readied himself to fight, small ripples of fire flickering from his fingers. Magor stuck his free hand into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle, throwing it at John who automatically went to catch it, the flames from his fingers set it alight covering them in smoke.

“Bollocks,” John snapped, he ran towards the van only to be yanked backwards to where Rip stood.

Rip let out a cry of shock when John’s entire body slammed into him sending them both into the fence behind them. They heard the van speed away as they untangled themselves from one another.

“What happened?” Rip demanded as he tried to catch his breath, managing to stand he brushed the dirt off himself.

“Not sure,” John replied, smelling the air around them.

Rip shook his head and started walking the direction the van had gone, surprise filling him when he was yanked back into John, sending them both to the ground in another heap.

John grimaced after they untangled themselves once again, “He cursed us. The bastard.”

“Cursed?” Rip blinked in surprise before demanding, “How do we break it?”

Sighing John replied, “I’m pretty sure I know which spell he used, I just need to find how to remove it and…”

“And?” Rip demanded worriedly when John trailed off.

“Another person, who we trust, to help with breaking the spell,” John told him, “Do you know anyone because right now my list is pretty small.”

Rip hesitated before he nodded, “There’s one person I can think of.”

“I’m honoured you trust me so much,” Miranda smiled as they finished the story.

Rip shrugged, “Who else would I ask?”

Miranda took his face in her hands and pulled him down to her, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

John coughed getting their attention, “Sorry but I can’t exactly go anywhere while you two have a quickie.”

Rip blushed, while Miranda chuckled, “Alright, do we have a plan of any kind or is this a wing it and see what happens kind of mission?”

“A bit of both,” Rip shrugged, “Our best idea is to head back to John’s place so we can lift the curse and then we track down the man who stole the book.”

She nodded, “Give me a few minutes to collect some things and we’ll head to the Waverider.”

Miranda headed to her bedroom and quickly packed a few essentials for the journey, adding her weapons because, knowing her Rip, things would not be as easy as he hoped. Pulling a coat on, Miranda grabbed the bag and rejoined the two men in the living room, rolling her eyes as they were bickering again.

“Alright,” she cut them off, “Let’s go.”

“Welcome back, Lieutenant Coburn it is wonderful to have you here once more,” Gideon greeted as they walked onboard the Waverider, before adding, “Please remember not to smoke whilst onboard, Mr Constantine.”

John rolled his eyes, “Well, that’s nice. She gets how wonderful it is to see you and I get an order not to smoke.”

“Because you ignore Gideon’s rules,” Rip reminded his friend, “Whereas Miranda is the favourite.”

Miranda chuckled, “I will drop my bag in a room and join you on the bridge.”

Rip caught her hand, “My room.”

“Okay,” she kissed him quickly before diverting off to the living quarters while Rip and John continued to the bridge.

Rip slid into the pilot’s chair and readying the ship for flight, John taking the hastily erected seat at his side as they couldn’t get more than a few feet apart without being pulled together once more.

“Gideon,” Rip called, “Has there been any indications that the book has been used?”

“Not currently,” she replied.

Rip nodded, “That’s good. We are going to head to John’s place to review some research material and hopefully find the spell to break this curse.”

“A wise plan,” Gideon replied, “I do not think the Time Masters would be happy to have Mr Constantine as a permanent resident of the Waverider.”

“Neither would you,” John noted.

At Gideon’s silence, Rip chuckled, “Is Miranda on her way?”

“Yes, Captain,” Gideon told him.

The doors opened and Miranda walked onto the bridge, she’d changed into a much more practical outfit than the summer dress she’d been wearing before, and her hair was pinned up the way she used to wear it for missions. Taking one of the seats, she pulled the restraint down and nodded.

“Let’s go.”

John released the protection spells on the door to the Mill House before he motioned the couple to follow him inside. Miranda had a smile on her face as she looked around. At least someone was enjoying themselves.

Leading them into the main room, John gave a wave, “Welcome. Be careful what you touch.”

“I’m going to assume that includes the dust,” Miranda noted pointedly as she studied some of the items around the room.

He grabbed a few of the books he thought might help them and placed them on the coffee table, “Start with these.”

Miranda instantly grabbed one and her eyes lit up with interest as she took a seat on the couch. Rip took a book as well and sat at her side. John could see both the hormones and awkwardness between the couple.

He’d been stunned when Rip had taken them to see Miranda for help, having had no idea that the annoying Time Master had a social life, never mind a gorgeous smart girlfriend who clearly had him wrapped around her finger.

It was odd watching their relationship as it seemed in some ways to be still in the early stages, Rip especially didn’t seem comfortable being intimate with her in front of John but then there were times it was like they’d been a couple for long time as they had an awareness of each other that only came from years together.

“Okay,” Miranda spoke up after about an hour of studying, “I think I’ve found something. John, what do you think?”

Taking the book, he scanned the spell and nodded, “This is perfect, love. But…”

“But?” Rip demanded.

“I have everything needed to create it,” John told them, “The problem is because of the nature of the anti-curse, Miranda has to do everything.”

Miranda’s eyes lit up, “You mean I get to do actual magic?”

John nodded and Rip frowned.

“Are you sure?” Rip asked, “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“If she was doing it without supervision then yes,” John told him, “But I’ll be walking her through the entire thing.”

Miranda moved to Rip’s side and took his hand, “I’ll be fine.”

Rip turned them slightly in the hopes of some privacy, “Magic is volatile, Miranda. We’re already cursed, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“You do remember that I received the exact same training as you,” Miranda replied sharply, “Don’t you?”

“Yes, but…”

“But?”

John coughed before they started arguing properly and spoke up, “Rip, it’s a relatively simple spell and with me watching over her, Miranda will be fine.”

“Not. Your. Choice,” Miranda stated, enunciating every word as she poked Rip’s chest with each word and Rip backed down.

John grimaced at the tension and clapped his hands, “Okay, let’s get this sorted so we can separate us then find the bastard who stole the book.”

Rip didn’t like that Miranda had to work the spell to separate him from John, but Miranda refused to even consider looking for another option. He’d forgotten how much she could frustrate him, how headstrong she was, and how much she liked to argue with him.

“Oh, this is incredible,” Miranda said as John sorted out the ingredients for the spell.

“The good thing about this spell,” John told her, speaking in a way to ensure Rip would listen, “Is that it’s not taking any life energy from you, it just needs the intentions. I’ll be the one who sets it alight to activate the spell, so it’s my energy. What it needs is that you care for, well I’d say both of us would be best, but at least one helps.”

“I care about what happens to you, John,” Miranda said, and Rip felt a small spike of jealousy go through him which eased when she added cheekily, “I need you to make sure Rip doesn’t get himself killed trying to retrieve this book.”

John caught Rip’s eye with an amused smirk before turning back to Miranda.

“Okay,” John said, returning their attention to the spell, “In the order I tell you, and during each step try to focus on whatever good points you believe Rip has.”

Laughter bubbled from Miranda, she tilted her head to Rip, who frowned at her for a second before giving in and pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

John chuckled murmuring, “So well trained,” before letting out a cry of pain when Miranda kicked his ankle.

“Watch it, buddy,” Miranda warned John.

Rip smiled at her defence of him, while John rolled his eyes, continuing to tell Miranda each step. Rip rested his hand on his girlfriend’s shoulder, when John advised it would help with the spell.

“I feel like I’m tingling,” Miranda said as she added the final few ingredients.

John nodded, “That means it’s working.”

“What now?” Rip demanded.

“Miranda,” John ignored him, “Take each corner and bring them together in the centre, twisting the ends then wrap the twine around and tie it in a knot so it holds together.”

She followed the instructions and a few minutes later, sitting on the bench was a small bundle.

“That’s it?” Rip asked.

John nodded, “That’s it.”

Miranda laughed in surprise before asking, “So what do we do now?”

“John?” Rip turned to the other man.

Grabbing the bundle, John handed it to Miranda and motioned Rip to join him, “Miranda when I tell you, throw it at us.”

Miranda picked it up and nodded, “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Just toss it gently,” Rip spoke up, “It’s not a bomb.”

John chuckled as Miranda rolled her eyes, he took a slow breath and allowed his magic to come forth. Flames danced across his fingers and John nodded, “Now.”

When Miranda threw the small bundle, it instantly ignited when John caught it, smoke covering him and Rip making them both cough.

The smoke cleared and Rip looked at John, “Did it work?”

“You walk that way and I’ll walk this way.”

Miranda watched the two men slowly walk in opposite directions both waiting to be yanked back together. Finally, they were standing on opposite sides of the room, well past the limit they’d previously had.

“I’d say it worked,” Miranda smiled.

John nodded to her, “Nice job for your first spell.”

“Only spell,” Rip added.

“Spoilsport,” Miranda said as John chuckled.

Rip frowned at her, “Now we’re separated, you should take the Jumpship home. I’ll pick it up once we’ve retrieved the book.”

Miranda stared at him before stating, “No.”

“Miranda…”

“I’m not leaving,” she replied, “There is still a mission to complete and it’s clear the two of you need adult supervision.”

Rip grimaced, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Miranda stared at him for a moment before grabbing his arm, “Excuse us a minute,” she said to John pulling Rip into the other room.

Once they were alone, Miranda folded her arms and glared at him.

“What?” Rip asked worriedly.

“Do you remember how we met?” Miranda demanded.

Rip frowned confused, “What?”

“Do. You. Remember. How. We. Met?” she enunciated every word sharply.

“Of course I do,” Rip replied, bemusement on his face.

“Then you remember that I was not only trained the same as you, but my scores were always higher,” she stated.

“I just…” he hesitated at her glare before whispering, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Miranda sighed shaking her head, “Rip, I am more than capable of looking after myself. I can’t believe you of all people are treating me like I can’t.”

“It’s been a few years though since you left,” Rip reminded her, “And I have been working as a Time Master for almost five years.”

Anger filled her, and Miranda forced herself not to yell, “I am staying to help but after this…” she paused, hating the next words out of her mouth, “But after this, since you obviously don’t respect me, perhaps we should just part for good this time.”

Sadness and confusion covered his face, “Miranda?”

Without another word she left him standing alone.

*********************************************

John’s location spell had led them to a rundown house on the outskirts of a housing estate and Miranda wrinkled her nose, “Lovely place. Do you think they’d sell?”

John chuckled, rolling his eyes as Rip remained silent. They’d not spoken to one another since leaving the Mill House and John was getting to the point where he was going to bang their heads together.

“Well?” John turned to the Time Master.

“The scans are showing one life sign,” Rip replied, “Presumably our friend.”

Miranda leaned over and checked the scanner, “Do you think he has any more of those tricks up his sleeve? Because as much fun as this has been, John I don’t want to be stuck to either of you.”

John saw a look of hurt flicker across Rip’s face before it became impassive.

“He has power,” John replied, “I should be able to pull together a quick protection spell for all of us to ward off any possible traps in the house, but it won’t help against him.”

Miranda frowned, “So we draw him out to us before we go inside.”

“Good idea,” John noted.

“Miranda is an expert tactician,” Rip noted softly.

John watched a smile touch Miranda’s lips briefly before she remembered she was mad at Rip.

“Okay,” John said quickly, “What’s the plan?”

Miranda chewed her lip for a moment as Rip mused.

“Do you…” they started together both grimacing and Rip motioned Miranda to continue.

“Do you have any way to draw him out of the house?” Miranda asked John who nodded, “Once out here we set up a trap. Either magical or technical. Once he’s trapped, we retrieve the book and get the hell out of here.”

John frowned in thought, “It’ll need to be a tech trap. I’d need more time to make a magical trap powerful enough.”

Miranda turned to Rip, “What do you have with you?”

Emptying his pockets, Miranda smiled at the bits and pieces he produced, “We can set up a grid easily using these,” she shook her head, “I cannot believe you carry this stuff in your pockets.”

Rip shrugged slightly, “You never know when you might need it.”

Miranda turned away, smiling slightly and John rolled his eyes again, he did not have time for this.

“I’m going to check the perimeter,” Rip told them, “Just to ensure there’s nothing unexpected.”

John waited until Rip left before turning to the woman putting together their trap.

“I know he’s an idiot,” John said, not sure how he had ended up in the middle of this and not believing he was actually getting involved, “But he does love you.”

Miranda sighed, “I know. And I love him too.”

“But?”

“But I’m not some damsel in distress that needs protecting,” Miranda noted annoyed, “I can take care of myself. He used to know this but since he came back into my life…”

John grimaced when she trailed off, “He’s scared he’ll lose you. Even I can see that.”

“I’m the one who stays put,” Miranda sighed, “I have a normal life while he could be hurt anywhere in time, and I would never know because the Time Masters don’t know we’re together and would never tell me. I’ve more to fear than he does.”

John shrugged, “The man is a moron but maybe give him another chance.”

Miranda rolled her eyes, “If we get out of this in one piece, I’ll think about it.”

Rip knew he had to focus on the mission, but his mind kept wandering back to Miranda’s words that they should end their relationship. He couldn’t lose her again, he’d spent so long looking for her, missing her and now…

“Gideon,” he called softly, “Have you detected anything from this location?”

“No, Captain,” she replied.

Sighing in relief, he hadn’t noticed anything either and hoped to get through this mission fast so he could persuade Miranda to give him another chance.

“Are you still in Lieutenant Coburn’s bad graces?” Gideon asked, making him frown.

“Why do you…”

“Because I have observed you on all the occasions that she has been onboard,” Gideon cut him off, “And she does not normally look so irritated with you, Captain.”

Rip sighed, “I just want her to be safe, so I suggested she take the jumpship home.”

“Ahh.”

“What does that mean?”

There was silence for several moments before Gideon replied, “It means you have apparently forgotten how capable Lieutenant Coburn is.”

Rip sighed again, “I know she’s capable, but she shouldn’t have to be here.”

“Has it occurred to you that she wishes to ensure you are safe?” Gideon suggested, “Your relationship is not sanctioned and if something happens to you then she may never know. Perhaps you should stop trying to protect her and look at things from her point of view.”

Miranda glanced round to as Rip returned from his walk around the area, “Anything?”

He shook his head, “No. Gideon has detected nothing.”

“Good,” Miranda said, “And we have a trap.”

Rip smiled, “Nice work.”

Glancing up at him Miranda gave him the smirk Rip knew so well, the one that always reminded him that she was not only better than he was but that he knew it. It was one of the reasons he’d fallen for her.

“Alright,” John interrupted, “Are we ready?”

Miranda nodded, “Get him out here and once he’s in the trap you two retrieve the book.”

“Just like that,” John grimaced before closing his eyes and calling forth his power, “Let’s knock.”

Rip and Miranda watched John release the spell to get Magor’s attention and didn’t have to wait long as the man appeared before them.

He was even thinner than before and looked as though a strong wind would break him in two, but his eyes were glowing with power.

“Don’t move,” John told them, “He needs to move closer. His magic isn’t strong enough to get us.”

“Are you sure?” Miranda asked.

John glanced sideways with a shrug, and she rolled her eyes.

Magor walked towards them, each step bringing him closer to the trap they’d set. Miranda’s fingers brushed the button to activate the trap, but they needed him to move just slightly closer.

“You have something that belongs to my mate,” John called, “And he wants it back.”

“Or what?” the other man spat at him, “Because the last time we met, you and your friend lost.”

As he took one more step, Miranda smirked, “That’s because they didn’t have me.”

She hit the button and an energy field sprung up around him. Magor looked around angrily trying to escape the shield.

“Okay,” she said, “Go get what we’re here for.”

John and Rip entered the house, they could hear Magor swearing at Miranda, but she had Rip’s pistol in case he managed to escape.

“Got the cloth?” John asked as he slowly eased his way across the floor into the centre of the room, ensuring he didn’t set off any traps.

Rip nodded, “Just need you to find the book.”

John released the location spell watching it move around the room until it stopped at a cupboard. Before he opened it, John held out his hand and Rip gave him the red material that had been warded to allow them to carry the book. Carefully John lifted the book using the silken cloth then wrapped it, making sure the cloth was secure around the book.

“Let’s get out of here,” John told him.

Leaving the house Rip was about to let Miranda know they had retrieved the book when Magor’s continued attempts to release himself bore fruit. As the shield dropped, the man stepped forward to attack Miranda, falling to the ground when Miranda coolly shot him.

John stared at her for a moment before turning to Rip, “Marry her.” Before Rip could reply John walked over to Miranda, “Is he dead?”

“Unconscious,” Miranda replied, sliding the pistol back into the holster on Rip’s hip the moment he reached her, “Stun setting only. Did we get it?”

Rip held up the book, “Mission accomplished.”

“Good,” Miranda patted his shoulder, “See what you can do when you have supervision.”

With an amused smile she started back to the ship leaving the two men to follow her.

*********************************************

“So, Miranda,” John said as they reached the ship, “This is where I have to say goodbye. It has been an absolute pleasure working with you,” taking her hand he pressed a kiss to the back of it.

Miranda chuckled and hugged him.

“Give the idiot another chance,” John murmured before winking at her, “But give me a call if you get sick of him.”

Laughing Miranda replied, “Look after yourself, John. I don’t want to have to rescue you again.”

Shaking his head, John turned to Rip, “Try to lose my number.”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Rip replied offering his hand.

John shook it quickly before turning and walking away. They watched him leave before turning and walked into the ship. Rip instantly headed to the parlour and placed the book in the safe activating a security shield around it so that it was safe until he could return it to the museum.

Turning he found Miranda standing there and he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Rip whispered, “I know you are not incapable of looking after yourself.”

“Rip…” she started stopping when he held his hand up.

“Please let me finish,” he said softly, “I know you’re not incapable, but I lost you once, and it took me five years to find you again. I’m afraid that I’m going to open my eyes and you’ll be gone again. I love you, Miranda and the thought of not having you in my life scares me more than I can say.”

Shaking her head, Miranda grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pulled him close, “You’re an idiot,” she laughed before kissing him.

They parted and a relieved Rip smiled, “I’m guessing you’ve forgiven me.”

“For now,” Miranda replied, wrapping her arms around his neck, “So, Captain Hunter it is still my birthday, and we have a timeship. After we return the book to its proper place, let’s do something fun.”

Kissing her once more, Rip murmured, “As you wish.”

#fic #ripfic #rip week #rip week 2021 #rip hunter #miranda coburn #gideon #john constantine #Rip Appreciation Week

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shannygoatgruff · 3 years

Text

Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan…

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

a/n: I wrote this months ago and let it sit on the shelf. I’m finally ready to dust it off and give it another go...so let’s see what it do...

Part iii - Trifecta

Torren Sykes hadn’t lived what anyone would consider an exciting life. In fact, in her twenty-three years, she had only just left her mom’s double-wide trailer in East Bumble Fuck less than a year ago. Not quite 365 days later, she still didn’t have a pot to piss in, nor a window to throw it out of.

Truthfully, she usually didn’t know where she would be getting her next meal - that sort of thing wasn’t really a big deal to her. She actually liked the mystery of it all. There was something undeniably sexy about not knowing what the day would bring - who she would run into, or have to take something off of to survive. If someone else had to get hurt so she could make it through another day, such was life. She’d won. Those other people just needed to be better at playing the fucking game, plain and simple.

Besides, pulling a caper or two kept her on her toes. She learned how to pull off the best of them from her mother. It’s not like adulting was one of Leslie’s strong suits.

If only her mother had been more like her Me-Maw, now that woman was a saint. For reasons that Torren never cared to ask, she lived with her Me-Maw until she was five years old. Leslie would periodically visit her to drop off the obligatory present on Christmas or her birthday if that bitch remembered. Not that they were ever good presents – just some cheap ass, unwrapped items she happened to pick up at the dollar store. Torren couldn't remember a gift that she had received wasn't still in the plastic bag with the receipt in it.

Cheap, whore.

Just once she would have liked a real baby doll from Toys-R-Us, instead of those cheap, hard, plastic dolls that the hand molds weren't cut out evenly, and the jagged edges cut the shit out of her face when she tried to sleep with it. But, that was Leslie. Torren didn't choose her; Leslie sure as shit didn't choose her daughter.

It became painfully clear to Torren that her mother didn’t want anything to do with her after her Me-Maw died. Unfortunately, she found herself as her mother’s unwitting roommate at a very young age, forcing the girl to spend a lot of time alone.

By the time she turned nine, Torren was convinced that her mother was a prostitute and she was a trick baby. It was the only explanation she could come up with seeing as how her mother never worked but always had enough money to pay the rent, keep the lights on, and have plenty of booze, chips, and hot dogs in the fridge.

Not that Torren had many other life experiences with a working parent to compare her situation to, but it just seemed pretty fucking difficult to have a job if one were passed out drunk all the fucking time. Besides, who had time to work when during your waking hours you were spending them with one of your many, many boyfriends?

Torren used to wonder if one of the multitudes of men that would traipse in and out of that trailer were her father - but the more she got to know what type of person Leslie was, the more she realized that whoever that guy was, had gotten the hell out of dodge.

Lucky son-of-a-bitch.

But for all of Leslie’s flaws, she did manage to impart her three philosophies of life onto her daughter - the three things that Torren still lived by to this day. It was the least she could do. God knows that whore sure as fuck didn’t do anything else for her.

Mama’s Life Lessons #1 - There is no such thing as too much black eyeliner

As trivial as it sounded, it proved to be a precious lesson. Shortly after she had moved into the trailer, Leslie had forced Torren to sit on the bed and watch as she got ready for another one of her "dates". She had told the little girl that beautiful eyes were the one good gene that ran in their family. “You got to learn how to work ‘em,” Leslie exhaled a long plume of smoke at her reflection in the vanity mirror, “You listenin'? This's important. This right here," she held up the black liner pencil, “is gonna be your best friend.”

Of course, Torren had no idea what she meant. How was a pencil going to her friend? She didn’t really care so much as what her mother was saying to her at the moment, it was more of the fact that she was actually talking to her that made Torren hang on to every word.

That’s why she picked up the black liner pencil from her mother's cluttered vanity table and leaned over to look in the mirror. She tried tracing her bottom lid, the way her mother had done, but at six it was a little easier said than done. She had just learned how to color inside the lines with a fat crayon; mastering the art of applying liner would have to wait a few more years.

Leslie, however, was not willing to wait that long, "What the hell's amatta wit'chu, Dumbass? You doin' it all wrong," she said snatching the pencil from the girl's hand. Grabbing Torren roughly by the chin she said, "Gotta teach you every goddamn thing. Hold still." She mumbled more curses and said something about her good-for-nothing mother not teaching her brat anything useful.

By the time she had finished cursing her name, Leslie roughly turned her daughter's head toward the mirror, "Yeah you got those eyes. Now, learn to use ‘em.” Leslie dropped the pencil onto the vanity before picking up her drink and shooing Torren away.

That was the day that Drew Watkins bought her an ice cream. It had to be the eyeliner. It was a true fact, not just another one of her mother's drunken theories. Eyeliner and her eyes...she didn’t know how she used them, but they worked.

From that day on Torren opted to never step foot outside without heavy black liner again.

Mama’s Life Lessons #2 - As long as there are men around that want to fuck you, you will never need to work

It wasn’t like she going to go out and get a real job. She wasn’t raised with much of a work ethic. She was too young to remember if her Me-Maw worked and what she gathered from her mother was that there would always be men around to take care of her.

Leslie told her that she didn’t need to work because working a man was a full-time job. If she were doing that right, she wouldn’t have time for a fucking 9-5. It didn’t matter if he was in a relationship, gay, or the fucking Pope. As long as he a dick and she could bend over, and her eyes were done, her rent was as good as paid.

If she wanted more than just the basic bills paid, she would have to rethink what all she was willing to do - but just make sure she didn’t do too much otherwise she couldn’t guarantee a steady paycheck every week.

This sage advice didn’t make much sense to 8-year-old Torren, but as the years progressed she started to work it into one of her life’s mottos. She would never want for anything. She could always rely on the kindness of strangers and when that got to be too boring, she could always take it, just to spice things up a bit.

Mama’s Life Lessons #3 - If you want something do whatever it takes to make sure you get it

As a child that grew up with the television as a babysitter, Torren Sykes knew that she was destined to love Ivar “Lothbrok” Ragnarsson since she was a little girl. Ever since that day she turned on the TV and saw this adorable blue-eyed boy drawing Mickey Mouse ears saying, “I’m Ivar Lothbrok and you’re watching the Disney Channel,” she knew that he had to be hers.

He was co-starring on a show called The Baker Boys, about three foster kids, who had come to live with a family that owned a bakery. Ivar’s character was named Simon Baker - a mischievous kid that lived with his grandmother until she died and never felt like he fit in with this cookie-cutter family.

His life was just like hers - minus the cookie-cutter family that loved him and all. She was actually with more of an alcoholic whore that didn’t give a shit if she lived or died, and not pulling stunts in a bakery with flour and messing up orders like him, but she still saw them as kindred spirits.

When the show got canceled she was devastated. How dare the world try to keep her from her man? Didn’t they understand this was love? Didn’t those people at Disneyland know that he was the only person in the world that understood her?

As if on queue, she happened to find the Season 2 DVD box-set at the library one afternoon. Her mother had kicked her out of the trailer because she had a date and couldn’t have the dumbass child around fucking things up for her. Torren had nothing else to do - at 11-years-old, she had no money, and nowhere to go. At least the library was air-conditioned.

She wanted that box-set. Slipping it into her backpack unnoticed was the easy part. Trying to get it past the alarms would be harder. She watched for a while, paying particular attention to the way the check-out system worked.

When the librarians changed shifts, she let a smile cross her lips as she picked a few random books from the shelves.

Her beautiful eyes went as big as saucers when the alarm buzzed, and the young male librarian looked down at her, still clutching the large reference book to her check. Carefully she had stepped across to the other side of the alarm sensor waiting to collect the books she was checking out.

“I’m sorry, you can’t check out reference books,” the young man said, blinking his hazel eyes at Torren, the corner of his lip tugging into a smile.

She let a pout fall on her lips as she lowered her large eyes down to the book in her arms, “Oh...sorry.” She handed the book back, “I didn’t realize I still had it.” And like that, she walked out of the library with her prize.

She had stolen for Ivar...now if that wasn’t love what was?

The only thing that had threatened their love through the years is when Ivar got married. It damn near broke Torren’s heart. How could he be so cruel? She didn’t give a fuck that the marriage was short-lived. She even understood why he had to do it. He had gotten that bitch pregnant, and he didn’t have much choice. But, he cut her deep.

Didn’t he know how much she loved him? Didn’t he know that she stuck by him when he had joined 6cess and had seen him in concert 3 times? She still had the autographed photo of the two of them from the signing at Spring Hills Mall - when she was wearing that blue midriff cardigan and ripped jeans and he had his arm around her. That shirt brought out the color in his eyes. She even wore Happy, which he said was his favorite perfume. She thought it smelled like Comet, but she stole a bottle of it from Macy’s right before the photo-op to smell good for him.

And he went and pulled this shit?

Besides, Johnny Law said that she was still too young for him and that he could get arrested for being with her. She knew that he had to pretend to have a normal life so that no one would know about their love affair. She was just understanding like that. It gave her time to grow up a little more so that when they could he be together, the law wouldn't be standing in their way. She really didn't give a fuck, but she suspected he did. Why else hadn't he come for her?

Torren didn’t even like their music. She wasn’t a boyband kind of girl, but for him, she would make the exception. She was more of the gangsta rap or heavy metal type girl. But if Ivar was serenading her, she’d listen to sappy, wrist-slitting, emo, shit rock all fucking day long, because she loved him.

She hated that he had gotten that whore pregnant, too. She understood that he had to pretend that they had a normal marriage. She knew that when he was fucking that bitch, he was really imagining it was her. The years apart had made him a master at hiding his true feelings for her. He couldn't give anyone cause for suspicion. If he let on the truth he could risk losing everything…his house, cars, job, and his kid. That whore was trying to keep them apart. But, she was just a small obstacle that posed no real threat to Torren.

She did not doubt that she would be his daughter's new mommy. The kid would probably be sad at first that she wouldn't be with that other woman like Torren had been when her grandmother died. But, the kid would get used to it. Torren was going to be a whole hell of a lot better at being a mom than her piece of shit mother was to her. That was for damn sure. She was going to teach her stepdaughter all about eyeliner, and how to dye her hair.

She was going to teach her what party clothes every woman should have in her wardrobe and how to get a man to do whatever she wanted by just batting her eyes at him. She would even share her secrets on what pills to mix and what dosages to give for submission, making a man catatonic, and if she was really good, she'd teach what to put in a drink to kill someone. Hell, she even planned on giving the child her most discrete drug contacts. That would of course have to wait until she was older – at least 13. She was going to be such a good mommy.

Ivar's daughter was going to love Torren as much as Torren loved him. They were going to be the perfect family.

Torren was as hopelessly devoted to Ivar as he was to her. He had waited for her to become legal. Just months before she was old enough to legally consent to sex, and get married without parental permission, his marriage started falling apart. She knew that Ivar was trying to make a clean break from his wife, and get his daughter used to the idea of them being apart before he could come home to her.

Torren had been thoughtful and respectful enough to give him that space to make sure everything was right before she stepped into the role of the new Mrs. Lothbrok. He had to test the waters, make sure that she still wanted him as much as he wanted her. He had to get back into the swing of things…have sex constantly to make sure he could keep up with her. She knew that "the prude" wasn't doing it nearly as often as he needed to - why else would he have an Only Fans page?

Torren was the only one that could feed his appetite, and he hers.

Now, they were both finally ready. She was mature and developed. She knew what she needed, and it was him. He had his fun before her, but now he was auditioning again and getting everything back on track for them. He had a great relationship with his daughter and his dumb ass ex-wife finally understood that their relationship was a fling that went too far.

His face told her everything that her heart already knew. He loved her.

Why else would be looking at her like that? She could feel herself blush when he smiled on Instagram like that into them. Then he gave her that smile. That was her smile; the one that he reserved for her during their private times. Yet, there he was doing it in front of an audience of millions, and he didn't care who saw it. He had to let her know that it was time for her to come home. It was like a sleeper cell being awakened.

She didn't have a choice. She did what any other woman in her position would do. She packed a bag, threw it in the car she stole a few days before and drove. Armed with her trifecta of knowledge and determination, she prepared to face the obstacles that were bound to get in her way. There was nothing that was going to stop her from getting her man.

Nothing.

Part ii || Part iv

Tags: @ideagarden-blog1 @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @a-mess-of-fandoms @didiintheblog @conaionaru @peachyboneless @flowers-in-your-hayr @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @didiintheblog @revolution-starter

#OnlyFan(s)#modern ivar #shannyland #trifecta

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