#also how do we feel about the heart nips should i keep em?

[tamagoneko]

im so ready for summer ☀️

[navegandoaciegas]

Cotton candy: sharing is caring

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Sugar Daddy AU)

Warnings: smut, explicit language, age gap, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Steve x Sam, double penetration, oral, anal and vaginal sex, face sitting, rimming, hair pulling, dirty talk, mentions of choking, unprotected sex with multiple partners (pls don’t do that, use protection always!!!), creampie. Reader calls Bucky “daddy” but there’s no actual daddy kink. Also fuzzy feelings and soft!Bucky. 18+

Summary: Whatever his princess desires, he always makes sure she gets it. Especially if what she wants are Sam and Steve.

A/N: english is my third language so forgive any mistakes. Also, do we like the moodboard?

Getting paid to spend time with a man wasn’t how you pictured your post grad life, yet here you are, feet dangling out of James’ yacht, the artificial lights of Monte Carlo’s skyscrapers reflecting in the waters beneath you.

Richness suits you, Wanda always tells you, and you thank her everyday for introducing you to the world of sugar babies. James is handsome, and sweet, and in the moments of clarity when you put your fears aside, you know you’d be with him even if he wasn’t paying you to. 

Your new lavish lifestyle is easy to get accustomed to: James has more money than he knows what to do with, and you’re the one he likes to spend it on. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to go back to packaged ramen and cheap mac’n’cheese, not after tasting 300 dollars steaks, anyways. The gruelling shifts at the diner you worked at to pay your students loans are a distant (and unpleasant) memory, now that he’s paid all the debts off. 

Anything for my babygirl, it’s what he always tells you, and so far he’s kept his promise.

You know he’d give you the world if you asked for it, you see it in the way he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars, in the way he clings to you after a nightmare and you, only you, always you, can ground him back to reality.

The sea is too cold at night for you to dive in, so you opt for a quick dip in the warm waters of the pool in the cockpit instead. 

You hum softly, towel in hand, as you pad barefoot across the deck, content with the gentle sway of the waves and the bright lights of the pier. As you’re about to reach the pool, you stop dead in your tracks behind the corner when the sound of barely suppressed moans reaches your ears. You know you shouldn’t, but you peek your head anyways.

You swallow hard, feeling heat pool in your core at the sight of Steve and Sam, James’ friends, sharing a heated kiss. Drops of water dripping from his long blonde hair to the hard planes of his abs, Steve looks like you’d imagine Poseidon himself would. Sam’s hands roam all over his body, feet dangling in the pool, flexing the powerful muscles of his thick thighs, his skin glistening in the soft moonlight.

You should tear your eyes away from them, turn back and walk away, but you’re rooted on the spot, each of their sounds shooting straight to your cunt. 

“You can have them, if you want.” a voice startles you, “I know they want you, they’ve told me.” 

You almost jump out of your skin, so focused on the men before you haven’t heard James approach you.

His hot breath sends tingles down your spine, the soft hair of his abs rubs against your back. His presence, his smell, the crystal blue of his eyes swallowed by darkness, everything about him is intoxicating, and you can’t bring yourself to utter a single word.

“I know you too want ‘em, princess.” he murmurs, hands clutching your waist, his stubble grazing the skin of your neck,  “What do I alway tell you?”

James’ hand, his metal hand, slides in your bikini, caressing your mound, a sweet torture, his fingers so close, yet so far from where you need them.

“Whatever you want.” is your response, barely above a whisper, your breath hitching when he dips in your dripping folds, your back arching in his chest, and the grunt that escapes him when your ass rubs against his hard on is downright pornographic.

He hums, fingers circling your bud, your own toes curling, his cock straining in his swim trunks. You can’t tear your eyes away from Sam, his heaving chest, his hand in Steve’s hair, guiding his head as he bops up and down his length, wishing you were the one sucking him off. 

They don’t know you’re there, and that makes looking at them all the more exhilarating.

It’s wrong, and you should feel bad, but you don’t, not when the lewd sounds of Sam’s pleasure mix in with the waves of the sea, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a more beautiful melody. James swirls his fingers around your entrance, dipping in your wet pussy, and when he crooks his metal fingers inside you, you can’t stop the wanton moan that escapes you, before he slaps his flesh hand on your mouth, silencing you. 

You’re panting, writhing under his touch, bucking your hips wildly while his fingers keep sliding in and out of you, the coil in your core getting tighter with each stoke. 

“Be a good girl and cum all over daddy’s fingers, and I’ll let you have ‘em.” he promises, and the prospect of Steve and Sam fucking you like you alway wanted is enough to trigger your orgasm, body shaking as white hot pleasure engulfs you whole, leaving you breathless. 

You watch in a daze as Sam cums with a groan, and Steve swallows it all, and all you can think about is how you can’t wait to have them both.

-

Alcohol flows in your veins, the right amount to help you loosen up your tense muscles, take your minds off of any worry. Your heart is beating out of its cage, anticipation and arousal mixing together.

“Remember that we can stop whenever you want us to, you don’t have to finish this if you don’t want to, okay?” James reassures you, hands caressing your shoulders, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

You inhale sharply, and nod. You want this. You want them.

“I know, and I trust you.”, you smile at him, because you do, you trust him with your life, and you take his hand in yours, kissing the back of it.

With one last soft look, he lingers a few more seconds before settling down on the far end of the couch, powerful thighs spread open. 

“Touch her.” he commands, and they obey.

Hands hesitantly stroking your body, soft brush of Steve’s lips. You shudder, your nipples stiffening under your swarovski dress, and he gains the confidence to touch you more firmly. Sam kisses your neck, pecking and nipping the skin, careful not to leave marks. He doesn’t need James throwing him off board, he reasons. 

You’re naked in a heartbeat, your shiny dress falling on the ground with one sweeping motion. You bend down to take your shoes off, your newest pair of Jimmy Choos, but a hand stops yours as you fumble with the strap. 

“Keep ‘em, please.”, Steve mumbles, delicately tracing from your ankles to the bridge of your feet, enthralled by your soft skin and pretty nail polish. He brings his face down, lips grazing the insides of your calves, tracing their way up to your inner thighs, his hot breath fanning over your skin until it reaches your hot core. He kisses between your legs, teasing you when his nose brushes against your swollen cunt, and your whole body quivers.

Warmth settles in your lower belly with Steve's shy caresses, Sam’s rough gropes on your breasts, James’ eyes on you. You’re burning up under his intense gaze, his flesh hand palming his cock through his briefs as he watches his friends touch his best girl. 

There’s fire in his eyes when he stands, tall and intimidating, and harshly grabs your jaw, slanting his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans. You hiss. Teeth roughly bite down on your bottom lip, and you taste metal on your tongue. He presses down on your cheeks, and spits in your mouth, and you swallow like the good slut he always says you are.

“Please daddy.” you whine, pushing James away.

“Please what, princess?”, he taunts you, reveling in the way you squirm and pant, a light sheen of sweat coating your pretty face, glossy lips all swollen.

“I need more, please.” you beg, grinding your core on Sam’s thighs, desperate to soothe the throbbing ache inside you, his hands on your hips guiding you as you ride his leg.

He chuckles, but takes pity on you. “Do you want Steve to eat your pussy, babygirl?”, he coos you, caressing your head. 

You bob your head up and down, a wide smile spreading on your face.

“Look how eager this little slut is.” Sam chuckles, pinching your ass.

“Lay down, let her sit on your face.” he instructs, and Steve obediently complies, laying on the couch, the hard muscles of his abs flexing with each movement, your hunger for him growing with every bulge, every vein, every hair on his chest.

“C’mere, lemme taste you.” he murmurs, cheeks blushed, pupils blown wide and mouth watering at the prospect of tasting you, “I bet you taste as sweet as you look”. 

You straddle his face, hovering mere inches away from him; he grabs your thighs and pulls you down on him, leaving open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh, ascending until he delves in your glistening folds, humming appreciatevely, “Fuck, you taste better than I thought.” Flattening his tongue he licks wide stripes from your entrance to your clit, your arousal coating his beard. You grind your hips on his face, fucking yourself as you stare into James’ eyes, your moans and his grunts filling the room. 

Behind you, Sam fumbles with Steve’s belt, taking his cock out and stroking him, and after mere seconds, the pretty blonde boy underneath you moans loudly just like you do, the vibration reverberating into your channel. You feel your walls throb intensely, and you cry out when Steve closes his mouth on your clit and sucks hard, pain and pleasure weaving together. 

Teeth close down on the flesh of your ass, and you yelp in pain. Two hands knead you, spreading you wide open, before a finger pushes past your tight hole, slowly and delicately sliding in and out. 

“You have such a nice tight ass, pretty girl.” Sam grunts, dipping another in and stretching you.

You should feel shame, riding a man’s face while one fingers your ass under another’s gaze, but you don’t. You only feel the coil build up in your cunt, and all it takes for it to release is another swipe of his tongue on your clit, and you cum with a cry, your hot release gushing on Steve’s face.

Sam’s strong arms support you as you ride out your orgasm, and you hear James’ voice coo you, praising his good girl, his pretty little slut, “So good for us.”, “So perfect for me.”

Sam dips down to kiss Steve’s face, his beard and mouth sticky with your release, enjoying your taste on him as he sucks him clean.

“Can I fuck her?” Steve asks, voice husky, looking at Sam expectantly.

“I’ll go first.”, he responds, “On your hands and knees, sugar.” 

You do as told, exposing yourself to them, not an ounce of shame left in you. You’ve never felt more beautiful, more desired, more comfortable in your own skin.

Sam smacks your ass and grabs you roughly, so different from Steve’s feather like touches, “I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.” 

“Don’t brag beforehand, sweetie.” you chuckle, eyes boring in James’, the only one who can ever give you the type of pleasure that has you walk funny for days on end.

“When have you ever seen Steve walk straight, honestly?”

You and James both roll your eyes. “Just fuck me already.” 

“Alright, you needy little slut. No need to be rude.”, he says, slapping your ass again and again until you feel a bruise form, “You watch.” he orders Steve, “And you won’t touch yourself unless I tell you so.”

Steve lets out a whine, but nods anyways, although his eyes are full of tears and his cock is straining painfully, desperate for a release.

James is enjoying watching his friends fuck his girl more than he should, more than is be normal, but he can’t find it in himself to care, not when you moan in so much pleasure.

Sam lines himself up with your entrance and slams into you all at once, your walls accommodating his girth and throbbing around it. He sets a punishing pace, his thick cock hitting your cervix, and it hurts but you don’t care, because the pleasure is greater than the pain.  

“Please, fuck me harder.” you beg, moving your hips to meet his thrusts, feeling an orgasm near already, “Fuck, fuck, yes.”

“You like it when I fuck you hard, huh?” he grunts, “You like my big fuckin’ cock inside you?”

He pulls your hair, making you arch your back even deeper, and starts pounding inside you faster and harder than before. He dips a thumb inside your rim, and enjoys the sight of his cock slamming in and out of you, and the sound of your sobs.

“I want you to fuck her mouth.” he commands, and Steve doesn’t need to be told twice before he sits down before you.

“Please Steve, use my fuckin’ mouth, make me choke on that fat cock.” you urge him, hands stroking his cock.

Steve blushes at your words and gently kisses your forehead, before he snakes a hand around your neck, and you part your lips, tongue lapping at his head. He groans, tightening his hold on you when you take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him and swallowing him until the tip hits the back of your throat.

He’s big, even bigger than James, and you struggle with his girth, your jaw aching terribly as you bob your head up and down. Kudos to Sam for doing this on the daily, you muse.

Sam keeps on pummeling your pussy, and Steve holds you down, his cock suffocating you. You gag, air not reaching your lungs anymore, but he doesn’t relent, fucking your mouth ruthlessly.

“Fuck.” he groans, so lost in pleasure he’s not the sweet man you know anymore, “You’re such a good little slut, taking our cocks so well.”

He snaps his hips further down your throat, tears and saliva dribbling down your face, eyes bulging out of your face as you hold onto his thighs for dear life. 

A sound between a growl and a moan escapes him, and before you have time to realize it, he slants himself inside you again, and cums in your mouth, his heady taste coating your tongue, leaving you breathless.

Sam pulls you down, and purrs on your lips as Steve’s release drools out of your mouth and into his, the image of his cum on Sam’s lips so lewd you could come at the sight of it.

You feel yourself get close, your pussy aching for a release, but before you’re able to cum, Sam yanks you back and pulls out of you, and you whine in protest as he lays down.

“Don’t worry sugar, I’m not done with you yet.”

His hands guide you as you straddle him and sink on his cock again with ease, your slick dripping down your thighs and covering him too. You steady yourself on his chest and start bouncing your ass up and down his length, before you get struck by the idea to try something you’ve never done before. 

“Daddy?” you mewl, “Can you fuck me too? Can you give me that big fuckin’ cock? I want you to fuck my tight little asshole, please.”, you beg through each sob that escapes you as Sam pounds into you, pleading through lidded eyes.

James feels like he could cum just hearing your soft voice begging to be fucked, and because he can’t refuse you anything, he nods. He was done letting them fuck you alone anyways.

“I can’t believe you’re such a whore.” Sam chuckles underneath you, stilling inside you as James lowers his face between your cheeks, observing the way his friend’s cock stretches your pussy, your walls tightly gripping him. 

“You trust me?” he rasps, “I promise you’ll like what I want to do to you, babygirl.”

You can’t find the words in you, so you just nod your consent.

Sam and you both curse, eyes rolling to the back of your head when James licks a stripe from his cock to your puckered hole. He gives it all he’s got, swirling his tongue around your rim and poking inside, stretching you with his fingers. 

You almost black out when you cum again, never in your life having felt so much pleasure all at once, your pussy clenching on Sam’s cock, holding him in a vice so tight that he himself wonders how he hasn’t exploded yet. James caresses your back as you come down from your high, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, his metal fingers running soothing circles on your shoulders. 

He lines himself behind you, and you yelp when he pushes inside your rim, relishing in the way your hole stretches around his girth with every agonizingly slow thrust.

The coil inside you gets tighter with each obscene sound of their balls slapping against you, each squelch of your wetness, each time Steve pants touching himself.

“Faster, please.” you beg.

“You like when daddy fucks your asshole, huh? You like being full of cock, you little slut.”, James teases you, “Will you let Steve use you too, princess?”

“Yes, yes, please.” you moan, ass bouncing on their cocks, their hands everywhere on your body, “Please Steve, I want you to fuck my pussy.”, you beg, hands reaching for him as he switches places with Sam, a wide grin on both their faces.

Steve’s cock reaches new places inside you, and you feel yourself about to faint each time his tip hits that sweet, spongy spot inside you, the need to relieve yourself of the tight knot in your belly growing stronger with each passing minute.

Harsh thrusts, bruising grips on your tender skin, someone bites on your shoulder, someone sucks on your toes, someone pulls your hair. You’re overwhelmed, lost in pleasure, barely registering what is going on around you as they pass you around like a ragdoll, their little slut. A hand clamps down on your neck, vision going spotty around the edges, tears streaming down your face. 

They pull orgasm after orgasm out of you until you lose count, too fucked out and in pure bliss, a loud ring in your ears, no longer feeling the muscles in your lower stomach. Your pussy aches delightfully, tingling and throbbing and clenching and clamping down on their cocks, the couch soiled with your release and theirs.

You mewl at the emptiness you feel when they pull out of you and their cum streams out of your abused holes. You find yourself on your back, legs spread wide open, James’ arms around you, thick ropes of cum dribbling out of your cunt, Steve’s eyes trained on it before he digs in, eating you out with more passion than before, licking you clean of your slick and theirs, the room filled with the slurping noises he makes and the sobs that escape you, overstimulated and exhausted.

“I know you got another one in you sweetheart, you’re doing so good.” James coos you, peppering your jaw with soft kisses, “Just one more, I know you can do this.”

Steve sucks hard on your clit, and you cry out as one more wave of pleasure engulfs you, jolts of electricity jerking your body, your eyes rolling to the back of your neck, your release hitting him straight in the face.

You’re all spent and satisfied, lying on the couch in each other’s embrace, Sam spooning Steve, Steve clinging to your leg while you scratch his scalp, your head resting on James’ chest. 

-

He tries to commit this moment of bliss to memory, your blissed out face and the warmth you exude antidotes to the darkness that swallows him whole sometimes.

After years of barely staying afloat, being dragged beneath the surface, never enough to drown completely, just enough to claw at his throat and gasp for air, he feels himself coming back to life, slowly but surely, whenever he is with you. 

There’s forces that smother him, pull him under anytime he resurfaces again. It’s waking up in a pool of blood on the cold concrete every night, it’s the freight car derailing each time, the twisted metal panels of his car, the bright lights of ambulances and fire trucks, the sterile smells of gauzes and the bitter taste of blood. It’s the spoils of his marriage, the looks of indifference to his pain, the horror in her eyes upon seeing his bandaged stump, the touch starved shell of a man he’d become. It’s the haunting memory of walking in on his bestfriend fucking her in his own bed, the relieved look on her face that he’d finally caught them, it’s finding out that everyone knew. Everyone except for him.

But you, you’re the first breath of fresh air after drowning for so long, the spark that lights his fire again. You are the beacon of hope that it might be worth living to see another day.

And so, he obeys to your every whim, and he spoils you rotten. His babygirl gets what she wants, whenever she wants it.

Sometimes you ask for pretty dresses, shiny heels and designer bags; occasionally, you wish for the white sand of the Maldives to tickle your feet, or the warm springs of Iceland to soothe your sore muscles.

Other times, you don’t say it, and some things are better left unspoken, but he sees it in your eyes, the burning desire you try to hide behind downcast gazes and polite smiles, the way your breath hitches and you clench your thighs. He’s bothered by it, to some extent, because he wishes to be the only one you look that way, but he knows you don’t belong to him. Not in the way that matters, anyway. 

And maybe it’s better like that, considering how things ended with the last one.

Sometimes you want other lovers, and he let’s you have them.

It’s not love, he chants like a mantra, it’s companionship for him, and convenience for you. A pretty, smart, young woman like you wouldn’t even spare him a second glance if he didn’t shower you in money. 

It’s not love, but it sure feels like it. At least on his part it does.

“Daddy?” you whisper, Sam and Steve’s soft snores resonating in his ears.

He hums, a content bliss settling on his face whenever you’re in his arms.

“Thank you.”

The smile he gives you is the most precious gift you’ll ever receive. 

“Anything for you, princess.”

And he means it.

---

this is PART ONE to sugar, spice, and everything nice 

taglist: @msincognito67 @sambucky8 @buckmecaptain @bigbootychrisevans @im-squished @mela-noche @everything-is-awesomesauce e @mrsbarneswillseeyounow w @docharleythegeekqueen @lets—be-honest

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[beyondconfessor]

Ambitious

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Miranda Croft/Reader

Summary: Miranda's come to collect something from your boss' office, that is until she discovers your most recent purchase. 

N.B.: this is pure porn. Somewhat dubious consent, featuring size kink, knife play and female ejaculation––because what’s a fic from me if a woman doesn’t squirt?

You were a receptionist to a dance studio in the low-end district of downtown. While your boss was on leave, she asked you to pick up a few things on the weekend. It’d been a simple request, could you please, please take the books and drop them off at the accountant.

No big deal. The streets were quiet, allowing you to park out the front of the studio.

Before the errand, you went to pick up a present for yourself. The dance studio sat across from a sex shop. Given the late hour, there were no clients or work colleagues to see you walk into the building and come out with a discreetly packaged present in a plain bag before you slipped back across the road to the studio, unlocking the front door.

Flicking on the lights, you went to the back office, placing your discreet bag onto the desk before you searched the filing cabinet behind the desk. The plan was to take the books, set them in your car and then drop them off on Monday before you made your way back home to unwrap your present with a glass of wine and whatever fantasy you felt like.

You didn’t hear the door open, nor did you hear the steps of the new occupant entering into the studio. It was only when you found the books and set on the desk that you gasped, seeing the woman standing in the doorway.

“I’m sorry, the studio’s not open,” you advised.

“Oh, I’m aware,” she said, and then smiled at you. “You must be her receptionist. I’m Miranda.”

Miranda, you’d heard her call through a few times, each time letting your boss know, and no matter what was going on, she’d always taken the call. It didn’t matter if she was in the middle of class or on a lunch break, if Miranda rang, your boss answered. She was beautiful, you thought, but also frightening, taking up the entire space of the doorway despite her small frame.

“I’m––“

“I know,” she said. And then she was stepping through the doorframe, her eyes drawing around the room. “Your boss should have left something for me. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

“Ahh…” you swallowed, feeling cornered between the desk and the filing cabinet. “Did she say what it was?”

“Just a box,” she said softly, and her eyes drew down the length of your body as if she had thoughts about searching you before she turned her eyes continued looking over the room. “Perhaps it’s this?” she inquired, stepping towards the bag you’d set on the desk.

You went to disagree, but before you get the first word out, it was too late, she’d opened the bag, pulling out the rectangular box.

You flushed and looked away. “That’s, umm, that’s mine,” you said.

“Ohh, ambitious are you?” she asked, looking it over, making no attempt to act embarrassed. Somehow, it was worse watching her eyes light up as she turned the box over to read its side. “No expense spared. Quite a girth on it, my, my.” She looked up at you and you felt your whole body electrify under her stare. It was ambitious, but you’d wanted to try something bigger.

“I think we should give this a go, hmm?” she said.

“Excuse me?”

Her eyebrows rose, mouth quirking, “Give it a go,” she said again, eyes firmly on you. “Don’t be shy.”

“I––“ you felt a half-dozen arguments rise in your throat, but she just stared at you and the words seemed to die away. “I don’t know you,” was all the came out.

Miranda stepped closer and all at once you were pinned between her and the filing cabinet, “You know me,” she said, and then you watched as she pulled out a butterfly knife, the click, switch in the air as the blade revealed its self. You eyes watched the knife, chest rising and falling as it came closer. “I’m Miranda,” she purred. “You always answered my calls with that lovely voice of yours. At the very least, we’re acquaintances.”

There was an argument to be made there.

“Have you ever fucked an acquaintance?”

You couldn’t press back any further as the knife drew closer, touching against the button of your shirt. “I…umm,” your mouth felt dry, feeling the button press firmly against your skin. “N-no,” you answered.

“There’s a first time for everything. And, it’ll be fun,” she said, a patronising expression as she nodded, tongue pressed between her teeth. “Right here, in this studio. We could even do it in front of the mirrors.”

Your eyes fluttered, the image filling your mind. It was wrong, it was so very, very wrong. But something low in your belly flickered. “I can’t,” you said.

“You can,” she said, and you feel the knife press, cutting underneath the button. It popped off, dropping to the ground. “Oh, don’t get upset, I only want to play. Wouldn’t you like to try this out? I can be very…encouraging.”

Another button popped, pattering to the ground and your breath came in a slow, deep inhale as your bra was revealed. You felt a hand rest on your hip, holding you steady, as the knife’s tip came to touch against your sternum, dragging down to the front clasp of your bra.

Your eyes flicked to hers, and then you were lost in the blue of her irises, feeling the blade twist underneath your clasp until the bra was snapping undone. You gasped, feeling the weight of your breasts drop and then the knife was making its way down, drawing over your skin, down your abdomen, popping buttons as she pleased until it was all undone. “That’s not a no,” she said.

You’d forgotten to speak. You should say no. She might even listen.

But did you want to say no?

“I…”

“You,” she echoed, the Scottish lilt prominent as she said it, and you found your eyes dropping to her lips, watching as they tugged into a smirk.

“I don’t have a lube,” you said.

She laughed.

You heard the swish, click of the knife disappear into her coat, and then both of her hands were on your hips. She turned you around, facing you to the filing cabinet, and then she tugged off your shirt and bra, dropping them to the ground. Her mouth was hot on your throat, teeth nipping before sucked at the point where your neck met your shoulder.

It was dizzying, exciting. You moaned and whined at the pleasure centralised on your throat.

And then her hands grabbed at your bare breasts, squeezing them in her gloves. “Oh God,” you whined, clutching at the metal drawers. There was a noise of rocking metal, of your moans, and then you could feel one hand drop away from your breast before it was popping the button of your jeans, undoing the fly.

She slid underneath the elastic band of your underwear. And your eyes flew open. This is really happening, you thought.

There were so many red flags. So many things to tell you to try to get out and run, but as Miranda kissed and bit at your throat, one hand squeezing at your breast as the other stroked over your vulva, you found it difficult to focus on what you should or should not do. It was easy to lose yourself in how good it felt.

The hand in your underwear stroked long and firm, as it did, you rolled your hips, feeling your breath come out in heavy pants. Her fingers slid over the entrance, teasing before it drew up to the clit and then back down. It would hurt, you realise, if she entered you like that, but you didn’t care, you just wanted those hands to keep stroking you like that.

You wanted them inside of you.

“I don’t think the lack of lube is going to be a problem,” she said with a laugh as she pulled away.

Her absence was cold and you felt the chill of the room wash over you before you exhaled, turning on your heel to face her. Realising how bare you were, your hands coming up to hide your chest.

“Oh, no, don’t do that,” she said, knocking them away. “I think we’re more than acquaintances now, don’t you?”

You let your hands settle at your sides, fingers curling and uncurling as your flush underneath her gaze.

“Asked you a question,” she reminded, and there’s something dark in her voice.

“We are,” you agree, and your eyes draw up, watching the expression soften back into amusement. There was a pause and you bit the inside of your mouth. “What…what now?” you asked.

“Eager, are you?” she asked.

You flushed. “No, I only meant––“

“It’s okay. I’m sure when you picked up the box, you were thinking about how long it would take to get home before you stuff that inside of you.” She tilted her head at you, eyes drawing down slowly this time, and you felt your chest rise and fall with a low drawn breath. “Take ‘em off, then.”

“What?”

She pointed to your jeans. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

You nodded, scrambling and pulled your shoes off, socks following before you went for the pants.

“Uh!” she commanded, “Wee bit slower. I want to enjoy myself with this too.”

You watched as she settled to lean against the desk in a lazy stance, smile widening before she gestured for you to continue.

“Oh…okay,” you agreed and your thumbs looped around the waist of the jeans and slowly tugged them down, before awkwardly stepping out of one leg than the other.

“Those two,” she said, pointing at the cotton underwear.

“Of course,” you agreed and slid them down your legs too. The air was cold and in the cotton, you could already see a wet spot from your arousal. It was noticeable from your vantage point, which meant that it was noticeable from hers.

A flutter flew in your belly as you looked up at her, hands going to cross in front of you before you settled, setting them at your sides.

“That’s a gold girl,” Miranda said, and then she was turning, grabbing the box. “Out here, then.”

Your hearted thudded. You were leaving your clothes behind, heading out of the office into the dance studio. Your feet pressing from carpet to the smooth, polished floor. In the centre of the room, you stood still, waiting as gooseflesh broke out over your skin.

She paused by the side of the room and her eyes looked at you, amusement in them before she pulled out her dagger and cut through the box.

The toy was removed. It was bigger than you expected, wider and you felt yourself grow nervous as Miranda examined it.

There was a suction base to it and you watched as her eyes drew around the room, across its floors and its many mirrors, before she chose a spot where the two walls convened. The mirrors were smooth, lined against the perpendicular sides, so you had a full view of front-facing self from multiple angles.

The toy was set down, its suction base sticking to the floor and she looked up at you. Eyebrows quirking as she nodded to it. “Well, go on then,” she said. “Show a girl what you can do.”

Shyness overcame you as you looked at the toy and its reflection against all the mirrors. In the reflection of the mirror, you could see your flustered expression staring back, the warm of your skin, despite the chill of the room. You stood, nervous, anxiety pulling at you and you watched as Miranda’s expression went from amusement to annoyance, and then slowly grew to inpatient in the spans of thirty seconds.

“On your knees,” she barked.

You obeyed, scrambling before the toy and dropping to your knees. And then she stepped behind you and in the reflection you watched as her eyes narrowed, her hands coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Well?” she said, her fingers digging into your shoulders.

You drew in a breath. “It’s…big.”

“It is, but won’t you be pleased with how well it’ll fit once it’s inside of you?” You nodded, biting your lip. “Good girl. Now get to it, show me how well you can ride it.”

On your knees, you shuffled forward and felt your hand grasp the toy. Even in your hand it was big. It seemed too big. You were almost certain it wouldn’t fit.

You pressed your hips forward, feeling it knock against your pubis mound before your lifted them and then settled until you felt the head of the dildo press against your vulva. Your eyes looked up and watched as Miranda stared back, eyes sparkling as her face otherwise remained impassive.

You rolled your hips and tried to press down on it but stopped as you felt it pinch, the opening of your vagina resisting to it. It was too big, you needed to work up to it. “I can’t,” you told her, shaking your head. “It’s too big, I––“

In the mirror, Miranda rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” and her hands pushed at your shoulder and you slid deeper onto it, crying out.

“No!” you told her, feeling your walls push it out as you dropped backwards, behind the toy. “No, it’s too big, I can’t do it. I was too ambitious, I can’t. I can’t!”

“Shh,” she hushed, a sudden softness to her down as she crouched down behind you at eye-level. “It is big, but you just need a helping hand.”

“I don’t think––“

“Come here,” she said, and you watched as she sat back on her behind you, tugging onto her lap. “Spread your legs for me,” she coaxed, and her gloved hand slid down between your thighs, her head nuzzling at your neck.

You drew a breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest before you open your legs.

“Wider now,” she said, tugging one leg as far as your muscles would allow. You did the same with other, looking into the mirror at how open and spread you were. “There’s a good girl, now…watch,” she growled the last word and your eyes fluttered, hips rocking as in the mirror, you watched one gloved hand slide up your thigh as the other came to hold over your breast.

And then, like before, she was squeezing at your breast as her fingers stroked over the vulva and up, circling your clit. Her eyes holding yours in the mirror as you focused on her hands, watching as she stroked and circled and teased, pinching at your clit hard enough your hips jerked before she slid down.

It felt good, and then you watched as the gloves stroke over the opening, still sore from being pushed further onto the toy. “See,” she said, and you watch as the two fingers slid inside of you. They were firm, rough, but it didn’t stretch you out at the toy had. Your hips rocked, eyes fluttering but not closing as you watched yourself get fucked.

And then a third finger slid inside. You gasped at the pressure, but still, she stroked slow, easing inside of you and you exhaled at the fullness, feeling a wave lap low in your belly (though you noticed her deliberate neglect of your clit).

“Let’s try another, shall we?” she asked and you nodded, watching as her pinky finger drew and pressed against you. You tensed, vaginal walls tensing, but she pressed firmer, slowly inside of you. You felt stretched, tight around her fingers, and you hissed a breath. And then you exhaled, feeling her pump inside of you once, twice and then a third time, a low chuckle coming from behind you as she watched your body respond.

“I think we’re ready now,” she said, and then all four fingers slid out at once.

You whimpered, feeling the emptiness from their absence.

“Keep your legs spread,” she warned, reaching to grab at the toy.

You nodded, biting back a whimper as she pulled the toy from the ground with a sucking pop and then it was sliding against you.

Rocking your hips over it, you felt the head draw against your vulva and you couldn’t deny you excitement growing low in your belly. Perhaps it would work, perhaps it would just feel tight.

She angled the toy’s head and your hips paused, heels digging on the floorboards as you felt it press against you.

It was still too big, too tight. And you whimpered, trying to pull away.

“Stop squirming, you haven’t given it an honest go,” She said, and the hand on your chest dropped around your waist, holding you firm. “Try it,” she said, and the look she gave you made your tremble. It was a command and you would obey.

You watched the toy press again, and you pushed with your hips, pressing firmer onto it. The toy slid inside of you, your body tight as you gasped, squirming against her as if to pull away.

“I-I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” she said, pressing it deeper. It hurt and bit your lip. But there was a part of you enjoying it. It was barely an inch in and it felt good despite the pain. You nodded, and she pressed firmer, her smile widening in the mirror as she pressed it deeper and deeper, and then you gasped, mouth falling open as you realised the entire toy was inside of you.

“I did it,” you exhaled, and then you felt as she began to slide it out––before sliding it back inside. Your toes curled, heels digging as you whimpered, feeling the tightness expand and pull. It was big, it was so big, but you gasped, feeling a tightness forming low in your belly.

“Aren’t you a good girl,” she said, and then she was sliding it back and forth, again. First slowly, and then her pace increased until she was well and truly fucking you with it.

Your eyes closed, head falling back against her shoulder as your back arched, hips rocking––your body was growing accustomed to its size and the tight, stretched feeling was good.

You panted, and then gasped, and then through half-lidded eyes, you watched as the hand around your waist slid down to circle at your clit. “Oh!”

“There we go,” she said. “See how good you look.”

In the mirror, you were a performance, pornographic in how spread-out your legs were, how your body bounced over the toy, head tilted back against her shoulder. As the dildo slid out, you could see the lights reflecting on the arousal that dripped down its shaft.

“Say my name.”

Your mouth parted and then your moans were filling the dance room, echoing its walls. “Miranda,” you said, watching your hips rock over the toy.

You caught her eye in the mirror and watched as stared back with unabashed hunger, circling your clit, filling you up with the dildo. “You’re mine now,” she said, “No one will ever fill you up as I did.”

Biting your lip as you bit back a whine, you nodded. “Miran…please,” you whispered, feeling her pace increasing, your clit was pulsing underneath her touch, your body squeezing and tensing. You dropped back against her, pressing deeper and firmer onto the toy with each stroke. “I think…I….”

“Are you going to come for me?”

You nodded.

“I want you to watch. Watch as I make you come for me,” she said and you watched as her teeth bared in the mirror, eyes staring not unlike a wolf before a hare.

The climax built and then you were crying out, watching your mouth gasp open, chest rising, hips rocking forward as you clenched, muscles pulling and convulsing until a sudden gush of wetness squirted from between your legs, spreading out, on the ground and against the very bottom of the mirror.

The toy was pulled out, the hand dropping away from clit as you gasped, your knees falling shut as you felt the tremors rumbled through you, before they drew away too, leaving only a hum drawing through your body. “Would you look at that,” Miranda said, her voice filled with mocking surprise. “You really did enjoy yourself.”

You felt the heat wash over your body, a sudden shyness overtaking you as you tried to scramble out of her lap, but she held you firm, setting the toy down before she spread your legs apart again in the mirror.

She was admiring her work, of the wetness that coat your thighs and down onto the wooden floor. A hand reached out and stroked against you and you whimpered, pulling away at the sensitivity of the touch. And then you watched as she let go, allowing you to slide off her lap as she rose to her feet.

She cleaned her hands on her coat before adjusting the lapels. You watched as she seemed to check herself over in the mirror, fixing her hair before she smirked down on you. “That was fun,” she said. “But I’ll be taking those books now.”

“Books?”

“Mm. We need to check over the finances. Make sure everything’s in order,” she said. “But I’ll be seeing you soon, sweetheart. I think that toy would look lovely in your mouth, don’t you?” And then you were left in your wet spot, watching as she went to the office, grabbed the books and left the studio, with only a passing smirk and a tip of her head.

The air was getting cool, and when the door slid shut, you rose to your feet and took the toy, making your way back to the office where you dressed (your shirt now ruined) and set the toy and its box back into the bag. You needed to clean up the mess, but you sat down first in the office chair, drawing in a breath and then exhaled, feeling the soreness in your vagina ease.

Miranda. You felt the name hum through your mind as hunger grew low in your belly. You hoped against all logic that you would see her again, already imaging the weight of the toy on your tongue.

[all-things-fic]

Divorce Harry II

A/N In all honesty I couldn’t think of a better title. This has been a long time coming so thank you for baring with me. I need to shout out every single person who has listened to me rant and rave, as well as those who have expressed that they’re looking forward to reading it.

@waitingfortwilight, @theasstour, @harryfeatgaga who have essentially been my main stay girls, reading over it and sending me their thoughts.

@talesofstyles, @always-jackedup and @majorharry for telling me that divorce harry is going to be the shit and I shouldn’t worry.

Word count is 27k. Enjoy! x

***

19 months prior

Your eyelids felt heavy as you scrunched your nose up at the incessant sound of the alarm cutting through the early morning.

You knew it was still dark outside, simply remembering the night before and the hushed conversation you’d lovingly shared across from your husband. The two you sleepily mumbling as you fought tiredness, discussing spending time together in the simplest of ways as you stripped away the scatter cushions to get ready for bed the night before. 

When Harry had suggested setting your alarm thirty minutes earlier, allowing you time to cuddle, you remembered the way your heart had fluttered because while it was so simple it also held a lot of thought, of making time for just you and him. Something that you weren’t afraid to admit had fallen to the wayside with children and work. Something that you both knew you needed to work on more. 

Now however, knowing that the clock read 5.30am, you weren’t so taken. Harry’s sleepy groan behind you made you realise that he also wasn’t as captivated by his idea as he had been at 10.30pm, the evening previous. 

As he rolled back over towards you from turning off the alarm, you enjoyed the way his forearm, heavy against your stomach, pulled you across the bed and closer to him. His chest enveloped your back in a sleep-filled warmth that made your feel incredibly cosy and comfortable.  The kind that could easily get you to doze off again, no bother. 

“Morning darlin’,” he groused underneath your earlobe as he pressed his lips faintly against your skin. “Remind me who’s idea this was again, eh?” He chuckled, his chest vibrating as he tried to make a laugh at the expense of you both, tucking his chin into the dip of your shoulder. 

A sleepy whine left your lips at his voice, enjoying the way his hand spread out across the skin of your tummy, tucking underneath the oversized sleep shirt and smoothing the tiniest back and forth motion with his thumb.

“Not so clever after all, are ya?” You replied, right hand reaching behind you and weaving your fingers into his hair at the back of his neck. “Coming up with all these bright ideas-“ you trailed off as you felt him slip his hand around the underside of your body and roll you over to him compactly, not wanting to lose any warmth the two of you had created throughout the night. 

You felt Harry tilt your head up slightly, his hair tickling against the skin on your forehead as he pressed himself closer to you. His lips met the corner of your lips, chuckling deeply at how he had completed missed them.

“Fancy a shag?” He asked, hand rubbing soothing motions to your shoulder blades and dropping lower towards the centre of your back.

“And here I was thinking that you did this so we could just spend time together, when really it was a dirty ploy just to get in my knickers,” you felt his lips twitch into a smile at your response, as Harry playfully nipped at the underside of your jaw.

“Caught me,” he joked, twining his legs with yours, lips returning to suckling gently against your skin. Rubbing his lips tenderly against the slightly wetter skin of your neck, thanks to his attention, he murmured, “Or we could talk about how we need to get new school uniforms before the start of term, or how bin day has changed again.”

You stifled your giggle, dipping your head slightly into the pillow underneath you. “God, bin day changing has really gotten to you hasn’t it?”

Feeling his head lift up and away from you, you rolled your lips into your mouth. You knew that would get a rise out of him. Slowly opening your eyes, you peered up at your husband in the now dim morning light and took in his puffy, sleep-filled, features.

His haphazard hair amused you to no end but rather than comment you reached up and smoothed it down. From your affection, Harry turned his mouth to meet your hand as it trailed down and pressed a sponging kiss to the inside of your palm.

“‘M such a Dad now,” he mumbled against your hand, feeling the way your stroked along his jaw. “But them changing the day really has fucked up my routine.”

He turned his eyes back to you before you had a chance to remove the teasing smirk. “Stop laughing at me, you’re the one who gave me the bloody job to begin with.”

“You offered-“

He shushed you, knowing himself that he’d lost this one and that he indeed had set himself up for the fall. “Did you just shush me?”

Leaning down he rolled the two of you so that his body was mostly on top of yours, enjoying the way that you accommodated him without any resistant or need for direction.  He brazenly shushed against your lips again, his mouth ghosting enticingly over yours. “What yer gonna do if I did?”

Humming you felt your eyes begin to dip as the warmth of Harry’s body enveloping yours lulled you into a light doze. “Apparently nothing cause yer falling asleep on me.”

Feeling your face scrunch up at how he’d caught you rather than thinking you were being lulled into some form of unyielding want that forced you to close your eyes, you moaned. 

“I’m just resting my eyes.”

Harry laughed through his nose at your deadpan voice. “Yeah, yeah,” he goaded. “Your age is showing again, such a Mum now innit.”

You dug your nails into his back in retaliation to his comment, pinching the warm and soft skin causing Harry to scrunch his nose up at the slight discomfort you had caused him. 

“An aggressive Mum,” he corrected.

“You act like you don’t like it.”

“Yeah, jus’ love it when you abuse me, darling. Really gets me going tha’—“

Thing was with him proudly sporting a semi that you could prominently feel growing more by the seconds against your leg, you didn’t quite know if he was entirely joking. 

“Is that something for you-“ 

“Is what something for me?” He hummed, keeping himself close and enjoying the hushed conversation.  

“Me being a bit forward—“

“I just love having sex with you.” He admitted, watching the way you closed your eyes at his words, feeling his lips spread into a smile that he knew was the kind he used when at school to get himself out of trouble. 

“Wha’,” he drawled. “I do. Love shagging, love making love, love playing about and seeing what ‘appens.” 

You remained silent knowing that he wasn’t finished. Part of you wanting him to continue to see what he had to say next. 

“Love it when you’re a bit forward, Iove it when you go coy on me,” he acknowledged, mouth falling open slightly as his breathing changed along with the direction of the conversation. “Love it when you let me take you from behind and you push back cause you want me to slap your arse, but even though we’ve been together for years you still won’t ask me outright, cause you still like to think that you’re all proper like that.” 

You dug your nails into his back once more for his cheek, causing him to breathily chuckle again. 

“What do you mean ‘still like to think’?”

The dirty chuckle that accompanied his deep voice caused a fluttering in your nether region that was entirely undeniable. “You seem to forget that I’ve seen the way you get when you’re gagging for it.”

“How’d I get?”

With glittering eyes he responded, “D’ya want me to talk dirty to you?”

“D’ya want to?”

“Why don’t y’jus’ ask me?” He nudged your nose. “Gonna let me slip in?”

You hummed, sliding your fingers into the back of his messy bedhead. “Gonna put me in, gonna ‘elp—“ 

He deeply hummed when he felt your hand slide under the covers and found his leaking cock before placing him against your soaked knickers. “Rub it against ‘em.” 

You watched his jaw fall at just how wet he could feel you through your underwear, slightly slacker than before, and felt his hands slide the pantyline to the side. “Not even takin’ off your knickers, wan’ it that bad eh-“

He saw the way you clenched your jaw, not liking how in the slightest you were proving him right about how desperate and urgent you sometimes got for him. 

“You letting me fuck you without a rubber, are you?” 

Your chest heaved slightly from his words and how brazen he was being. The two of you had taken to using condoms again lately, following a stint with changing your pill and the thought of fucking to be close, or maybe so much more, without the need for him to wear protection, was proving more exhilarating than it should be.

“S’working now or we trying?”

“Harry-“ you hushed his name.

“Eh,” he coaxed. “Are you letting me make you a Mommy again?” 

With eyes closed, you cupped his face in your hands, enjoying the way his voice - that little bit lower than usual - continued to talk to you, melding into your skin as he pressed and rubbed his lips against your face. 

“Gonna get our girl this time, complete our family aren’t we?” 

You found yourself subconsciously nodding because having a girl would mean a third baby, which you were always adamant against. There was no denying it that the two boys that you and Harry had were more than a handful, having that little girl for you both to fawn over was desirable enough to push your two child rule out of the window. 

“How long you known its started working again, how long you been keeping this from me, doll? Knowing just how much I love to fuck you bare.” 

You were sure it had been four weeks since you had changed up your contraceptive. So sure. And besides even if you weren’t, would it be such a bad thing?  

“Love having the power, don’t you? Truth is,” he leant in, nose now slightly squashed as he rest tightly against you, nuzzled between your legs just right. “Love giving it to you.”

Your eyes rolled back into your head as he slid all the way in, and you didn’t miss the double meaning of him giving you both the power and his cock. 

Mouth falling open you let out a silent sound of approval when he found himself deep inside of you. The choked groan that left Harry, whose teeth were bared as he clenched at the feeling of taking you this way again, filled you with a desired warmth from head to toe.

Feeling him pull out slowly, you found yourself faintly whispering a mantra of “no’s”, knowing that he was going to try and have you as slow as he could possibly get away with.

“We don’t have time,” you gasped, against the skin of his cheek when he turned his head slightly to the side and thrust into you with slightly more force than before.

“Make time don’t we,” he hummed, hand sliding underneath you and gripping to the skin where your bum cheek and thigh met, creating that nice tilt to your body that he knew you loved.

Falling away from him and deeper into the mattress, you felt the way he picked up the grind of his hips, each  thrust hitting deeper and faster than its predecessor. 

Bed creaking, Harry who was now kneeling above you as he fucked into you, leaned his body back to grab at the corner of duvet that had fallen off the two of you in the process of him changing his position. 

His thrusts became slower and deeper, pulling you under as he tugged at the blankets and brought them over the two of you like you were teenagers.

Cocooned underneath the thick plush sheets that screamed adults with an affluent income, you felt the stifling heat creep up on you quickly as you choked a gasp when he thrust just the way you liked it, the way you needed it. 

“Remember the last time we woke up early like this to get a shag in at m’mums.” His words were thick, mouthed into your cheek as he pressed his body down to yours and nuzzled his head to rest against you. 

“Harry-“ 

“Said my name like tha’ back then too-“ he paused. 

You were overwhelmed, legs falling open as you asked for more. His hand gripping at your plush thigh and welcoming you accommodating him in such a way. 

“You like me fucking you when we shouldn’t. Turns you on, doll? The idea of getting caught. Or is it me making time for you, going out of my way in admitting I can’t keep m’fucking hands to m’self.”

***

Now Sitting opposite Harry in what could only be described as the most corporate boardroom you had ever seen wasn’t getting any easier.

This was your fifth meeting since the two of you had filed your divorce, and the process itself was starting to become quite tedious now. You were pretty sure that Harry’s lawyer was dragging out the formalities to get a heftier pay out at the end of it, which struck you worse than it should’ve considering you were no longer together.

It was quite clear that the emotion you felt about anyone taking advantage of his position, especially in a vulnerable situation such as divorce, didn’t sit well with you.

The fact that it was actually him who was dragging out proceedings never really entered your mind. 

Assets were today’s topic of conversation, and you had made it quite clear along with your solicitor, Gavin that you weren’t interested in taking anything that belonged to Harry. If anything, you were just more adamant that everything went to all three of your children. As long as they were taken care of - now and in the future - then you were happy.

You fiddled with your watch and tennis bracelet that sat delicately against your ever thinning wrist, a sign that stress had taken a hold of you in a different way than it usually did. You felt confident albeit still slightly anxious about these official meetings, surrounded by people who shouldn’t know about the ins and outs of your life, but here they were watching you air your dirty laundry.

“My client is quite keen to stress that she doesn’t require the marital home in Hampstead and has insisted that Mr Styles allow her and their children to vacate the property,“ Gavin was confidently repeating the words you had told him the evening prior, over a glass of wine in the wine bar around the corner from his offices. His eloquence of delivery filled you with enough belief that you found yourself sitting up a little bit straighter. 

Gavin has been yours and Harry’s lawyer through the majority of your official dealings. Sorting out housing concerns, anything relating to the press or privacy matters for Harry throughout the years that you had been courting and beyond. He knew it all. Somewhere inside you that gave you comfort, that he would be able to fight for you in a fair manner that wouldn’t harm Harry.

You didn’t want to harm Harry. To have or make unnecessary digs during a time that was already incredibly strained, uncomfortable and quite frankly heartbreaking.

Harry had been the one to suggest it to you. For you to take the family solicitor, and for him to get someone else. And someone else he did get. Eloise was part of the same company but a different branch, based closer to Manchester and in turn closer to Anne. That was something that you’d noted quite easily. The significance of it a topic that had yet to be discussed.

Since the news broke of you two filing for a divorce things had been different with the wider family. It was a shock but you weren’t surprised. Gemma cut you off immediately, much to the severe annoyance of Harry. While he understood that she was merely being the protective older sister, she had once doted on you so much so that you soon became thick as thieves. He once claimed that he had no chance when the two of you got your heads together, that’s how much of a unit you were.

He knew it had hurt you too. Gemma was a life source in an otherwise harsh reality of London. She was a rock. Someone who broke up the mundane routine of parenting life and would always try (even if turned down and batted off several times) to remind you that there was more outside of your three little ones and the four walls of your wonderful family home.

Anne was a little more understanding. It had been strained at first, but she had been there before herself. She understood the weight of stress that divorce had upon people, and where she found it appropriate she supported not only her baby boy but you. 

Eloise was friendly, a warm smile one her face whenever she walked into the room and greeted both you and Gavin. But the minute the door was closed, she became the ultimate professional, stepping in where required for her client, your soon-to-be former husband.

She cleared her throat having heard Gavin’s words and shuffled around with the papers in front of her. “Mr Styles has time and time again told that this is not what he would like. The family home and the stability it provides his children is something he would like to remain the same for peace of mind when he is out of the country. For safety and security.”

You bowed your head hearing the words that he would’ve no doubt stressed to his representative. You knew how much he prided himself on keeping his family safe and the levels he went to in ensuring that the current home you were still living within was secure.

A sigh left you lips as you reached forward for a glass of water knowing that you really weren’t going to get anywhere. You made the fatal error of lifting your eyes as you sipped, eyes falling onto him properly for the first time since the two of you shared the room on that grey Wednesday morning. He was broken in front of you. A bit more disheveled than you knew he would like to be with his presentation in a professional setting. 

His eyes were on you immediately, letting you know that while yours had been elsewhere he was absolutely taking the time to gaze at you. Green stare was filled with an emotion that screamed out at you to give him a second chance, so powerful you were forced to look at the wall above his head in fear of welling up.

Harry dropped his head at your emotional wave, right hand coming up to his left where he quickly started twirling his wedding band around his finger. See he hadn’t taken his off. 

Shame he couldn’t say the same about you.

Before you could stop yourself, you turned to look at Gavin and mumbled under your breath, “See, I told you last night he wasn’t going to listen, didn’t I?”

Mumbled or not, Harry heard you loud and clear. His head snapped up to look at you. His eyes running over the way you had slightly leaned closer to a man that he had known for almost as long as Harry had known you. Green gaze frantically moved back and forth between you both, his eyes taking in how Gavin was mumbling something back to you. Something that he couldn’t quite make out, which frustrated him to no end. 

Were you fucking? Were you fucking Gavin? The question swarmed his brain, him almost succumbing to the sea of that thought which was so willing to pull him under. Instead he cleared his throat, he couldn’t let that happen. There could be no sign of any unwillingness to compromise in this situation; you and he had yet to have the conversation (in an official capacity or otherwise) about custody. He wasn’t willing to risk that. 

“Have the house,” he croaked, silently wishing that it hadn’t given away the way he was really feeling. 

He noticed how you turned to look at him. Your mouth falling slightly as you watched him clear his throat and sit up straighter. “I want you to have that house.” 

“It’s your house, you bought it.” 

Your voice was soft as you spoke back to him, watching the way his eyes sharply cut over to Gavin who was busy writing something down into the edge of his paper next to the notes he had made a mere twelve hours ago when sat across the table from you in the atmospheric wine bar. 

“It’s our house,” he corrected, moving his eyes back to you. “As little disruption as possible for our kids.” 

You were suspicious, he knew it. The use of ‘our’ wasn’t lost on you, the way that he had chosen to stress the word both times as he addressed you. Just like it hadn’t previously been lost on you when Eloise referred to your children as just his. Just Harry’s. 

Licking at your lips, you felt him and everyone else in the room waiting for your answer. He had backed you into a corner with this one and you found yourself quickly starting to resent him for the way he had turned it around, whether he had done so intentionally or not. 

“Why’d you think I moved out?” his question was fired at you quicker than you wanted it to, almost too fast. You couldn’t process how to respond before he was basically responding for you. “Because,” he started, breathing deeply. So deeply you saw the way his shoulders heaved.  “Because we said that we wanted their life to remain, as much as it possibly can, the same as before this entire mess started.” 

He spat the words at you. His hand running roughly through his hair before he glared over at Gavin again. “Write it down, Gav. She’s having the home in Hampstead, so change your notes.” 

Mouth slightly fallen, you turned to watch Gavin raise his eyebrows as he looked down at his paper and scribbled out his notes. You reached up to press your left hand to Gavin’s right, stilling his pen and all movement. Eyes back on Harry, you took great care in reading his facial expression. For the first time - since you had started these divorce proceedings - he looked the most bitter and angry you had ever seen him. 

“Don’t write that down,” you told your representative. “We need to discuss this one further.” 

Harry’s eyes flashed over at you, as he turned quickly to look at Eloise before he looked back at you. “Don’t you think you should respect my wishes on this one?” 

“What, like you did by not even considering mine before you actually filed for divorce?” 

“Harry-”

His name was heavy as it left your lips. Laced in a tired sigh but feeling every ounce of his pain and yours combined. 

“What?” 

“This isn’t the right time or setting for that conversation.” 

His jaw was clenched; he hated when you took the mile high ground. “This isn’t a control thing,” he kept your eyes, a sincerity behind his words. “We made a lot of good memories there, the kids love it. School is so close, so are all their friends.” He sighed heavily, “All I’m saying is please think about it. Don’t take the idea off the table completely. I’m happy for you to have it.” 

Nodding, you looked at Gavin under your eyelashes and sheepishly nodded for him to continue with his writing. You were getting the house. The house that Harry had bought so many years earlier. Years before you had come onto the scene. The house he had coaxed you into moving into. The house where you had made love several times and conceived all three of your babies, and not always in the master bedroom either. 

The rest of the meeting had gone quite smoothly. Well as smoothly as it can when you’re divvying up your life assets and valuables between two people who never thought that it would come to this. A sadness had laced both yours and Harry’s words as you easily listed off which things would go to you and which things would go to him. 

You weren’t interested in the cars. His vintage sports cars were gorgeous but they would be useless to you and your trio of children, who needed a suitable car to get them from A to B. With this, you kept the Range. He had the rest.

That was how the rest of the morning went. By the time you were done, your head felt like it was about to explode and your rayon crepe dress was almost sticking to your body from the way you had perspired under pressure. 

Harry was waiting for you when you exited the room, having lingered back for a while longer to speak to Gavin about when the two of you could next put some time in to discuss the next steps before the next meeting with Harry and Eloise. 

His head was down as he furiously typed on his phone. You could only imagine that it would be a business email of sorts from the way he concentrated, pausing every so often to re-read what he had written. 

The sound of your heels clipping against the floor pulled his attention away as he shot his head up to look at you. He looked worn down now that he was out of the setting, the two of you in that awkward jig in the hallway of the magistrates building. The knot in his tie looser around his neck, very top button of his shirt now undone to help him breathe that little bit easier. 

Scratching at the back of his neck, Harry eyed you with caution. You looked every inch the put together business lady that he knew you were. Stylish dress that he knew you had once longed to fit back into after having your youngest now fit you just as well, if not better than before. 

“Did you need me for something?” you asked, question light. He soared at how you hadn’t ignored him and he felt silly - embarrassed even - for grasping at anything. 

Jutting out his lips, he shook his head. Hand in left pocket, hiding the ring he continued to wear. He felt desperate, he was desperate. He didn’t want you to know that, however he knew that you did. “Are you happy with how everything just went?” he asked, holding the door open for you as you started to walk closer to the lifts. 

He hoped you would opt for stairs, not wanting to have to cull any conversation the two of you were sharing short. When you spun towards them, he slightly thanked the gods above at how they were still - even just a little bit - on his side. 

“I think it went okay,” you hummed in response. Recognising the small talk for what it was. There was a lull in the conversation as you walked down the two flights of stairs, nothing but the sound of Harry’s breathing and your heels. “Were you happy?”

He wanted to blow at your question, but he knew that you were just trying to fill the empty air. It wasn’t your fault. This was just the state of affairs at the moment. The two of you trying to navigate it as best as you possibly could. 

“I don’t want us to go through with this,” he started, voice thick. 

“Harry-” you sighed. 

“I’m not happy, of course I’m not happy,” he exclaimed in a whisper, eyes on your profile. He was silent as he followed you, your walk strong as you headed towards your car. Manicured nails pressing down on the key fob to get the doors to open for you. “I don’t want this, I’ve never wanted this.” 

Spinning around after setting you handbag down on the passenger seat, you shut the car door. He looked at you, really stared at you, noticing the way your eyes fell to look at something behind his shoulder as you stood in front of each other in nothing but awkward silence. 

There he was. Gavin. Sinking down into his silver Porsche. Harry’s eyes scrunched into slits and before he could stop himself, he turned back to face you. “Are you shagging, Gavin?” 

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” you responded in deadpan. 

Harry scoffed, shaking his head and feeling his nostrils flare. He let you walk around him, quick on your tail as you walked around the bonnet of the car and jumped into the drivers side of the car. He stopped the door as you tried to close it, his reflexes too quick for you. 

“You are then,” he spat, watching as you shoved the key into the ignition and harshly glared at him. 

“I am the mother of your children. I am your wife,” you reminded him. The way in which he was so easy to think about you in a negative fashion.  

“Not for much longer, eh?” he shot back. “And who’s doing is that!”

You stilled as you looked at him. Stuck between anger and a fresh batch of tears. “He’s known us for years, and you’re shagging him. I told you last night,” he mimicked the words you had spoken in the room two floors up a couple of hours earlier. 

“We went for a drink,” you started. 

His mouth fell, “This gets better and better. I think you’ll find that that is a conflict of interest.” 

“Of my doing then,” you screamed. Your outburst caused his eyes to widen as he looked at you. So put together but so easy to break. “I asked him to meet me at the wine bar around from his office for a change of setting, because I am sick to death of being holed up in stuffy little meeting rooms talking about the way my life, and the life of my children, is slipping through my fingers.” 

“You asked him out for a drink?” 

You closed your eyes, breathing deeply before pinching at the bridge of your nose. He was picking and choosing what he wanted to hear at this point. Opening your eyes, you looked at Harry, “I have not slept with Gavin, nor do I want to sleep with Gavin.” 

“Darling-” his voice wavered as he tried to start his apology.

“Please let go of the door,” you asked, voice hollow as your reached for the inside door handle. “I’ve got somewhere else I need to be.” 

“I’m sorry,” he choked, car door slowly closing. “Please, just-” 

“Just what?” You asked, sad eyes meeting Harry’s upset gaze. 

His lips were down-turned as he fought against the burning in his throat. Licking his lips, wanting to tell you how much he loved you. Instead he opted to keep it to himself. “Tell my babies how much I love them.” 

“Always do,” you choked. 

***

The flat was empty, the way he liked it. That way he didn’t get attached. He didn’t plan on being long anyway.

The harsh light from the windows caused him to groan as he dropped his head and leaned his forearms on the tops of his thighs.

His life had changed drastically in the last eight weeks. Silence consumed him the minute he closed the door behind him and day and night began to blur into one. It felt strange, foreign and entirely not what he wanted.

He missed being climbed on the minute the door shut. The sound of feet stomping as they ran along wooden floors to him with squeals of “daddy” following not long after. He missed dropping his heavy bag, filled with clothes but even more so with gifts, for his best boys and best girls. He missed over exaggerating groans at the weight of his kids on top of him as he would collapse against the front door and tickle them into a fit of crying laughter. He missed sighing happily once they’d had enough and ran off leaving him spent against the door. More importantly, he missed looking up and seeing you watching him, leaning against the kitchen door opposite the front door, wearing a sleepy smile that showed how glad you were to see him not only for him to help pick up his end of the slack but just because he had come back to you. Like always would.

Well, like he always would have. 

Head like cotton wool, Harry palmed down his face and ran his hand along the five days worth of stubble that lined his jawline. Closing his eyes, he slid his tongue along the front of his teeth as he fought the oncoming emotion and swallowed harshly. 

Before he could think, he swiped his phone off the coffee table and scrolled through his camera roll looking at the FaceTime call he’d undertaken with his babies four nights prior.

That’s what it had become. Contact through a phone. Not all the time, but mostly. It was his own doing and he knew it, and he didn’t try and twist it as something that was more your choice.

He had found himself pulling away after your last meeting. Guilt ridden by his accusations of you sleeping with your solicitor. He knew you were pissed off with him because you didn’t start the FaceTime calls now, even though they were done through your phone. So many times he’d call and expect to see you but he was always greeted by his eldest son smiling and his younger baby boy shoving another new toy in front his elder brothers face to try and get some attention too. 

“Wow mate, looks cool.” He would always say, wanting to acknowledge both boys as equally as possible. “Where’s you little sister? Let Daddy say hi.”

That’s where he would melt. Every single time she would pop up on the screen she would be that little bit different. Steadier on her feet as each day pressed. 

He only had to look around his flat, which was nicely decorated with the odd leftover bottle of beer on any surface that could hold something to know why his head felt stuffy, to know he needed to sort himself out. 

An outsider looking in would say that he was firmly on the first stage of a grieving process. Harry was in denial. He knew it. Sometimes he found himself processing scenarios in his head at how his current abode was only temporary, found himself answering questions on autopilot at the studio with nothing but complete and utter lies.

Lies about you, about your kids. About your situation. He’d talk about how his sons were thriving at school, and how his daughter was practically ready to join her two big brothers and climb into her own little uniform. And it was all utter bollocks, he didn’t have a clue. 

And that was because he hadn’t done the school run in the longest time. His time with the kiddies assigned to the weekend, a decision that had been come to simply because disrupting their routine was not what he wanted. Probably one that was more so posed upon him but one he almost didn’t have the energy to fight.

You always seemed so sure of yourself when you met at your solicitor meetings. Sitting opposite him put together, this confidence radiating from you as you presented yourself with your best foot forward, as every inch the impressive woman that had caught his eye all those years ago. 

And he always felt a bit of a mess. Regardless of how expensive his suit and shoes were. His tie didn’t sit right against his collar, not like it used to when you helped him do it.   

You’d survived arguments before. Long periods of time of FaceTime conversations and nights in the studio that turned into early mornings so him being in his current surroundings didn’t feel so strange when he really thought about it. 

As his fingers ran over the screenshot of his smiling son, Harry felt his denial was as strong as ever. This was a phase, it wasn’t reality. 

This wasn’t forever. He had to make sure of it.

***

Vision blurred, you squinted at the scrunched up piece of paper that housed Harry’s scrawl. 

The four digit number should probably have been embedded into your brain by now, given the couple of times that you had dropped your children at the location when Harry couldn’t always get to you. However, your slightly inebriated state meant that you weren’t entirely of sound mind as you punched the code into the grey buttons. 

Meeting up with the Mum’s from school had appeared all nice on the surface, until the four of you had to come to realise that the mixing of cocktail beverages wasn’t going to work out the best in the end. Especially considering the last time that any of you had had a night out (a proper night out) was probably before you’d had children. And well, that was a long time ago. 

The electronic whirling sound signalled to your that the code you had managed to squint at was successful. Pushing at the door you meandered over to the lift, pressing at the call button, a little irritated at how long it was taking to get down to you.

Harry’s apartment was on the eighteenth floor at the very top of the eighteen story apartments block that boasted postcard panoramic views towards Westminster, River Thames, City, Chelsea, Battersea and beyond. 

You remembered so vividly Googling the block of apartments the first time you had dropped off your three babies. Looking online to find his exact flat that he has purchased and flicking through the pictures that were available to you.

The open plan reception, the modern kitchen with breakfast bar. The three double bedrooms - one for Harry, one for the boys to share and one for his baby girl. Each room had its own en-suite, his room complemented by the wrap around balcony that was accessible by the living room too.

Standing, waiting for the lift, you remembered so vividly the stern conversation the two of you had shared about the balcony and the sliding door to access it. How you’d read him your own version of the riot act about how you thought he was such an idiot for buying some sort of bachelor pad, when he had children who would want to explore outside the balcony, and could get out so easily and harm themselves if left for only the smallest amount of time.

Harry hadn’t taken too kindly to that one. His expression hard, as he walked over and showed you how he had child proofed everything. The doors, the windows, the plugs. He also took the opportunity to remind you that it wasn’t forever, that he would win you back. A stance that he often took whenever he had the chance to talk to you and slip it into conversation; he most definitely took it.

Lift pinging, you ignored the shiver that left your body at the thought of his fervour whenever he tried to fight for you both in the current day, and all those years ago when you were a solid couple. 

You jammed your red fingernail into the silver circle that housed the number eighteen, watching the orange digital number slowly rise as the lift did. It pinged once more to tell you that you had arrived, and you took the opportunity to slowly stumble down the corridor. 

The balls of your feet ached as you wandered to his front door, wondering if he would still be awake. Stopping at one of two doors on this floor, you let you hand hover for a short time before you knocked and ignored the way you slightly tripped over your aching feet from your off kilter balance, thanks to one too many strawberry daiquiris. 

There was silence in the corridor other than the shuffling of your bag, and you thought he was further into a deep sleep than usual, but the sound of a chain jangling over the other side of the door cause you to snap your eyes up from where they had been, looking at your freshly pedicured feet. 

The ivory door of Harry’s apartment, nicely glossed wood, slowly pulled open to reveal his squinting eyes. He looked like he’d been asleep, maybe not for long but he’d definitely been dozing on the couch. His bleary eyes stared at you, face holding at least four days worth of stubble and body covered in a jumper that you knew had been stored at the very back of the wardrobe at the Hampstead house. He must’ve been having a clear out at his apartment, downsizing was never easy. 

He pulled open the door when he saw you fidgeting in front of him and held it open with his arm. You nodded, ducking underneath his arm to walk into the apartment, letting your feet take you the way you knew to his open plan living room.

As you waited on him to lock up behind you, you let your eyes scour the living room. There weren’t any lights on in the room, baring the glow of the television screen. You noted the way the couch was particularly worn in from where he must’ve fallen asleep, with his feet resting upon the table. 

You could almost picture him, head tilted back against the back of the couch; mouth slightly ajar and arms folded across his chest with hands resting under his armpits to keep them warm. He’d probably had his legs crossed at the ankles too on the table, just like you’d often found him in the small hours after he’d crashed on the sofa following a particularly late night session.

And just like all those times before, when he came into your vision you spoke the words that you knew well, “‘s gonna do nothing for your back.”

Harry looked over at you, hands now pushed into the pockets of his navy blue sports shorts. He stood in silence, smallish frown between his brows. You dared to glance over at him from the corner of your eye, knowing he needed more to figure out what you meant. 

“Falling asleep on the couch, is gonna do nothing for your back. You’re pushing thirty-eight-“

“Cheers for tha’ one, could do without the reminder!”

You fought the smile hitting your lips as you looked at him again from the corner of your eye, and saw he was pleased with himself for getting your lips to twitch up, even if for the shortest time. 

“Anyway, what have I done to owe this pleasure,” he asked, walking around the back of the couch to the table to pick up the half finished bottle of red wine and the wine stained glass. 

“Went out with some of the Mums,” you caught his eye as you spoke, his expression amused as you crossed your left leg over your right. “Bursting for a wee and you were the closest.”

“Can see tha’,” he raised his eyebrows. You didn’t know what he meant by that comment. Were you that pissed he could tell by barely looking at you, or was it the comment about needing the loo? You knew that was obvious from the way you swayed as you stood. 

“Know where it is, knock yourself out,” he nudged his head up to the door behind yours that led you back out into the hallway, and didn’t fight the smile that split his face as he watched you reacted the quickest you had done since you arrived.

Your bag was off your shoulder, dropped over the sofa to fall against the cushions and your jacket - the one he remembered buying you when you turned thirty-five, when you’d spotted it in the Paris Chanel store - was pulled off and draped over the back of the couch too.

Harry stilled in the silent lounge, looking on as you tottered away, so unsteady on your feet, but in too much of great need to use the toilet before even thinking about taking your shoes off.

He busied himself with setting the bottle of wine and lone wine glass to the breakfast bar. Resting his hands to the black marble worktop, he dropped his head between his shoulder blades and closed his eyes alongside his deep breath.

Pushing away from the kitchen area before he could wind himself too much about the possibility of how you and a few of the other school Mums - he knew the odd one was newly single - had possibly gone out on the pull. He turned to fluffing up the cushions on the couch and quickly took to tidying the coffee table, which housed some of the song lyrics he’d been writing, mostly about you, into a small pile before folding them and shoving them into his leather bound journal to hide. 

Sitting down on the couch behind him, Harry turned his head to the left and let his eyes linger on the jacket and bag next to him. So many times this was how a night would end, when the two of you did have a chance to go out just as a couple. He’d be fiddling with his shoes while you scampered off to the downstairs toilet, never being able to time your toilet breaks correctly for the journey home. 

It always had the two of you friendly bickering - well before it started becoming proper bickering - and even had Harry softly apologising each time he had to drive over a speed bump, because he knew how much it would jolt your bladder. 

You used to laugh that it was his doing anyway. Your bladder changed after becoming a Mum and that was totally his doing. He always reminded you that it took two to tango, often with a kiss left to the back of your hand in the process, which always caused you to soften out of your irritated mood. 

But neither of you had tangoed in a while. 

With the light of the television harsh against his eyes, Harry - now feeling slightly riled at the thought of your separation so bold in his mind - snatched at the remote control, and turned the television off. 

Now, in some state of matching his mood, he sat in darkness. Resting back into the seat of the couch and silently groaning to himself. He knocked his head back against the cushions and reached for the lamp next to him, turning it on and filling the room with a warm light. 

You’d been gone longer than you usually would have been. His eyes glancing over at the large ticking clock sitting on the wall of his kitchen. Just after 1:15am was what it read, time matching the burning sensation behind his eyes. 

Pushing himself up with a groan, he was reminded of your comment earlier about his age and tried to ignore the way you were always right. He felt every inch his thirty-seven, and soon-to-be thirty-eight years.

Circling around the back of the couch, Harry ran his hand along the back coming to a halt at your jacket, before the backs of his fingers smoothed over the tweed material. It felt soft to his touch, and he wondered if his hand would smell of your preferred perfume, the one that he always found incredibly intoxicating. Then he remembered how creepy he would look smelling his hand, regardless of there being no one around to know; he would know. 

The sound of the toilet flushing broke his reverie and caused him to shake his head. Expecting you to return any minute now, he waited. His bum resting against the top of the couch, he kept his eyes on the door wanting to catch you expression the minute you reappeared. 

When you didn’t show yourself, he exited his lounge and walked along the hallway. His meandering came to a halt when he saw you walking around the corner that led to the bedrooms. 

Slowly his feet pattered behind you, crushing into the soft carpet underneath them with a muffled noise. He was silent as he watched you, slowly pushing open the door of your boys shared bedroom. 

The only light that lit up the room was that from the hallway, casting enough of a glow to allow you to see what it was like. Harry didn’t say anything at first, watching the way your tense shoulders relaxed as you swayed slightly on your feet, and turned your head a small amount to the right to get a look at the pictures that were hung on the walls. 

“‘M trying to make it feel more like a home for them.” His voice was calm behind you as he broke the silence, not loud enough to make you jump. In fact, you found it incredibly soothing. “The boys fought it out on whose curtains to replicate here from Mommy’s home, and rather than fighting I just tried to make it fun and told them to pick the ones that I knew you would dislike the most.”

You grimaced when they came into view, Harry reaching around you to turn on the light for their room. Part of you was slightly embarrassed at how he had caught you snooping after leaving the bathroom, but he knew you meant well. The Mother Hen in you coming out to protect her babies and see that their second home was fit enough for them.

“They’re horrendous,” you slurred your deadpan, the horrible brash colours of abstract print sitting among bright yellows, oranges and greens of dinosaurs staring straight back at you. 

“They’re exactly what boys of six and almost four like though,” he half smiled, leaning against the door frame. He scanned your figure taking in your outfit as you continued to look around the room and noticed the extra effort you had put in that evening, enough to make him feel the kind of way he used to feel when you did date nights.

“Walls are still stark and white,” you commented, eyeing them before turning to look at him over your shoulder. You tried not to focus on the sadness that laced his features.

“‘S tha’ you telling me that this definitely needs to become more of a permanent thing?”

You dropped his gaze, shrugging and swallowing the lump in your throat. “Maybe that’s a conversation topic for another day?”

Humming, you nodded your bowed head and moved to walk around him. “D’you wanna see the bab’s room?”

He didn’t wait for your reply, instead he walked around you this time and took you to the room closest to his. Harry flipped on the light without a second thought, walking in and quickly moving some of the clothes off the changing unit into the designated chest of draws.

“‘M trying out the big girl bed in here,” he said feeling your presence as he shuffled the clothing around and folded things quickly before placing them neatly inside the draws.

You barely heard a word he said after that, eyes transfixed by the bed that was the replica of yours at home, just the cot element of it had been taken away. Harry had come to recognise that you baby girl was no longer a baby and more so becoming her own person. Something you were so so desperate to avoid.

The thought of her growing filled you with a panic that you hadn’t wanted to face just yet. An emotion that caused your chest to close and a choked sob to catch his attention.

Harry was panicked when he abruptly turned to face you, taking in your crumpled expression as you remained consumed on the children’s bed. “Hey, hey,” he soothed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and scooping you towards him. “Everything’s alright, they’re okay here. Promise I’ll never let anything ‘appen to ‘em when they’re here. The sides can go back on to the bed, they’re stored in my room at the minu-“

“No,” your voice trembled, “they should stay off. She is a big girl now.”  

You looked up at him, lips downturned as you found it hard to fight your vulnerable state; something you knew wouldn’t be the case if you hadn’t been so inebriated. 

“What happens when I no longer have a baby,” you spoke the question aloud, watching Harry’s eyes try and decipher the question and the many meanings it held. 

“She’s always gonna be your baby. They’re always gonna be your babies. You’re always gonna be Mummy.”

“You’ve done what I’ve been putting off,” you breathed heavily, sniffling. “I like to find her laying down looking for me through the wood after one of her naps, or bopping as she holds the sides and bounces her little legs cause she wants Mommy to lift her out.”

He reached for your face, listening and letting you speak. His fingers joined yours to swipe away some of the fallen tears that hadn’t dried and he knew in so many ways that you were admitting that you babied your youngest to keep her exactly that; a baby. 

“I’ve tried to keep her tiny for as long as possible,” you confessed. “Cause when she doesn’t depend on me anymore, I’m back to being me and-“ 

Harry noticed the heavy pause. He softly stroked underneath your chin, trying to non-verbally encourage you to continue.

“I don’t know who I am. I don’t know if I’m going to like who I find.” 

You saw the way Harry blinked heavily, the smallest frown finding the middle of his brows as his mouth fell ever so slightly at your honesty. 

“How can you not like who you’ll find?” He breathed, eyes taking your entire face in. Your words were hard for him to process, considering he’d seen the way you had vehemently held onto your career through pregnancy and after. 

“Cause I don’t know who she is anymore. Outside of being a Mum, who am I?”

He spoke you full name, including your married surname. “That’s who you are.”

“Not for much longer,” you rolled your eyes, annoyed at yourself for showing yourself to him this way. He felt cold when you stepped away from him, watching you sniff and abruptly wipe at your face with harsh fingers to remove any makeup marks from your skin, thanks to running eyeliner and mascara. 

His lips twitched, saddened by the tough reality that those four words from you had delivered to him. You weren’t far from the truth, regardless of how much he had tried to halt proceedings, it was getting a bit silly now. 

“I’m gonna have to use the bathroom again to clean up,” you straightened yourself out. So easy to put on a mask even in front of the man you were supposed to be able to be your most raw; your most vulnerable with. 

“Know where it is, knock yourself out,” he repeated the words from earlier, this time a bitter edge to them, looking on as your turned to walk back through his hallway and into the bathroom. 

Harry groaned under his breath as he let his head fall back on his neck, eyes facing the ceiling. Scrubbing his hands down this face and round to find the back of his neck, he clenched his fingers at the tightening of his shoulder and neck muscles, before he sighed and exited his daughters bedroom.

Flicking the light off, he let his feet lead him back to his dimly lit living room. His eyes watched the London skyline, alight and beautiful, before they focused in on his own reflection in the glass.

His expression was downtrodden, not entirely, but you could tell he was exhausted. Some of it his own doing from late night studio sessions, other from the physical and emotional toll his family life (and lack of it) was having upon his heart. 

He turned his attention to filling up two glasses of water, wanting to give you one upon your return. A small smile laced his lips at that thought, he wanted to give you one in more ways than one. 

Heel clipping against the floors, they came to a dull shuffle as you entered his living room. You came to a stop, not too far from where he had previously been stood admiring the skyline for all that it was. 

Harry looked on silently as you took in the London skyline, the way it was dreamily lit up. On any other evening it would’ve been romantic, the kind of setting that you would’ve liked to admire along with him. Maybe sat in the balcony with a glass of wine each. Creeping from your chair and into his lap as you both got further down the bottle and maybe into a second. You wrinkled your nose as you took in the view and the scene you had created, reaching down and tugging at your shoes, quite the topple to your balance. 

He didn’t help though, knowing you would most likely chew his head off. Instead he pressed his hands harder against the marble counter of his kitchen as a lopsided smile fell onto his lips.

“Well done,” he spoke in sarcastic deadpan behind you when he saw that you had successfully removed your shoes without falling, the sling back heel straps curled around your fingers. 

“Shut it, you wanker.” 

He laughed, harder than he should’ve. For the first time in a long time in your presence. The delivery was perfectly timed, back still facing him as you twisted your body slightly to drop the shoes over the back of the couch to join your bag and jacket. 

The interaction felt nice. Such a boring word to describe a situation but spot on in the current happenings. It was just nice. Nice to be in a room, not arguing but bickering. Bickering like a married couple, which technically is what you still were. 

“Felt really good going out with the Mums tonight,” you broke the bubbling silence, left arm coming up to fold across your chest. Your eyes remained fixed on the view as you heard Harry shuffling behind you, his movements were sluggish though, you could tell by the huge gaps of silence between each knock of something else that he was tidying away. 

“You should do it more often,” he replied, voice wistful. “Got you a glass of water ‘ere, if y’want it.”

You hummed but didn’t provide him with a solid reply, a sign that he took as you being deep within your thoughts. He decided to leave the water to sit untouched next to his. 

Chin resting on his hand, Harry really admired you in the dimly lit open plan lounge and kitchen. 

“Was nice to feel my age,” your voice was far away as you spoke. “Felt nice to let my hair down. Someone sent drinks over to the table tonight.”

He slowly pushed himself up from where he had been leaning on his forearms on the counter at your last sentence. “Did they? No’ surprised, looking like tha’” 

You turned your head to look over your shoulder at him, the bounce of your hair felt skimming the skin of your shoulder in a flutter that matched Harry’s nerves. You didn’t know what response you were expecting but it wasn’t that, maybe more of a blow up towards the idea of someone else chatting you up. 

The face that met your eyes was one of pure lust. Even across the other side of a room, kitchen counter in between you both, it was easy for you to decipher. Dim light and all, he was mesmerised. While he felt himself getting hot under the collar at the idea of some random bloke trying to cop a chance with his wife - even if only still in name -, there was something exhilarating at how you’d ended up winding back at his place regardless of the advances of another.

“Sorry for being a shit husband and not noticing sooner.”

“Noticing what?” 

“Noticing that was I neglecting you. Neglecting letting you know how proud of you I am. How much I fancied you. How much I still fancy you.” 

You blinked silently over at him, your breathing picking up as you watched the way he wiped his hand down the front of his mouth and chuckled. His head shaking lightly from side to side, try as you might you weren’t forgetting those words. 

“This place is tragic,” you watched him slowly pull his hand down from his mouth at your words, arms folding against his chest. He was about to lay into you, you could tell by the way his mouth fell and the softest frown lay in the middle of his brows but deep within himself, he agreed. “You’re a Dad of three and you’re buying a place that’s fit for a bachelor who has just hit his mid-twenties. Floor to ceiling window that is just begging to have some younger model pressed up against it, gagging for it.”

“Who said anythin’ ‘bout havin’ a younger model?” You stilled at his question, it’s delivery slow as he waited for your response. 

When the response didn’t come, he gave up eyeing you from afar. You heard his socked feet against the floor, the rustle of his sports shorts as he padded across the floor and they rubbed between his muscular thighs. 

You jumped when his arms snaked around your front, and you knew you should be stepping out of his familiar embrace, but the warmth of his body in your emotional state was propping you up, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

“‘S just’ me,” his voice vibrated into your temple, feeling you squeeze at his arm as his hand lay flat against your sternum. After the smallest amount of silence Harry confidently murmured, “Why’d I need a younger model, when I’ve got what I need righ’ ‘ere? No trading in necessary.” 

He felt your body still in front of his, wondering if he had pushed himself too far. His concerns were warranted but he was insistent on continuing. “D’ya wan’ me to shag you against the window? ‘S tha’ wha’ all this pussyfooting ‘s about?” 

You sighed heavily when you felt him drop his lips against you ear, his breath ragged as he allowed his lips to trace your skin. “Only hav’ta say darlin’, ‘s yours.”

“Please-”

The beg within your voice caused Harry to groan so animalistically it sounded like a growl. His fingers dug into the plush skin of your hips, his groin nudging into your arse cheek as he urged you to walk that couple of steps closer to the window. 

The lights of London became a blur as you focused on the frantic sucking and licking of his mouth to your exposed dip of skin where your neck and shoulder met. “‘S all this not being able to tell me,” his voice moulded into your skin. “‘F my wife wants me t’shag her against the window, then that’s what she’ll get.”

“Yes,” you hissed, hands scratching at the fabric of your blouse, pulling it out of the waistband of your skirt as Harry unbuttoned it from the top down. Once opened his hand slid into the cup of your bra and gently squeezed your breast.

He leaned his upper body back reaching for the neck of you blouse and harshly tugged the fabric away from your body. Your limbs pulled back with the item of clothing as it was torn from your body. 

Left hand contorted behind you, you let your fingers make light work of your bra. It fell slack and away from your chest, giving Harry more movement to his fingers and allowing him the chance to soothe his thumb over your raised nipple. 

You stumbled together until you roughly came into contact with the cool glass, tits squashed against the window. An involuntary gasp left your lips from the harsh intrusion of the cold, hard surface. “Gonna leave some questionable marks against this glass for me, give ‘em something to really talk about eh?”

“Want your window cleaners to know you managed to get a shag?”

“I do when it’s wi’ my fit wife,” he breathed around an open mouthed kiss to your neck. He faltered when you pressed back against him, a breathy chuckle leaving him at how you had grown impatient. 

You were stuck within this cloudy decision of whether to push your chest further into his greedy squeezing hands, or push back enticingly into his groin. 

The haze that had come over you had long gone passed being alcohol induced, as you felt him move the two of your more closely to the window. The shuffle of your feet against the plush carpet rushing around your ears as you panted.

Harry’s free hand busied itself with rucking up your skirt, the item bunching up as he grunted when you slid your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled him closer to you. 

His hand slid down your bare side, cupping underneath your breast and smirking against your skin at how you were quick to rid yourself of your bra, letting the straps slip down your arms.

His hand slowly trailed down, sliding soothingly over your abdomen; the soft pouch of skin that you referred to as your Mummy Tummy, delicately caressed by him in a manner that told you that while you disliked this part of you, it was one of the many things he warmly thought highly of. 

He tugged your lower half away from the window, encouraging you to move- “pop up your arse for me, love. Tha’s it.”

Breathing that bit heavier now, feeling him heavy behind you, you moaned frustratedly at how he had slowed his movements. Chuckling, against you shoulder, Harry placed his warm hand against your intimate area for the first time in a couple of months. 

“You’re hairy,” he acknowledged, voice gruff and breathy with wonder as he cupped at you underneath your knickers. His mouth fell against your shoulder blade, teeth gently grazing your soft skin as he closed his eyes to visual you. He secretly loved you like this, loved pulling out and wanking himself to his end when you were hairy, just to see the way his released sat against your pubic hair when he tapped and rubbed himself against it. 

Turning your head to the side, your nose brushed against his as he waited for you when he pushed himself closer. Both with heavy breathing, mouths agape and wet with want, you whispered, “Who’ve I got to shave for? Got a husband who doesn’t want it anymore.”

“He wants it,” he lustfully put you in your place. “He’s gonna take it.”

“Then take it, make it yours.” Your words died on a dry throat as the tips of his fingers pressed to your clit. He roughly rubbed, feeling your face contort into a soft frown from his ministrations, and closely watched through blurring vision from the sheer closeness of your faces.

There was no messing about as he dipped his fingers down lower and felt your arousal, begging to be sunk into. With curled fingers he dragged the wetness to your clit, and applied pressure as he swiped upwards with heavy pads of his fingertips.

Choking for breath, the unflattering moan that left your mouth may have - once upon a time - caused you to blush. This time however, it made you want Harry that little bit closer. 

His desperation to get you to come simply by rubbing your clit like some inexperienced teenage boy, was somewhat exactly what you needed. 

Heavy behind you, you pressed your lips closer together, heavy lids matching his. He caved in and suckled gently at your bottom lip, feeling your mouth pop off when he swiped up on your clit in the right way that created a sensation that tickled through you. 

“‘M gonna come like this-“

“Yea’ you are,” he breathed back instantly, fingers slipping and starting to cramp. The speed of his fingers crept up, noticing the change of your breathing as he started to chat into your cheek, incoherent mumbles while your mouth hung open as you panted.

No noise is how he knew how much you needed this. Needed to be completely lost in the touch of another; of him and his touch. “This how you want it, doll? Yes, this is how you want. Just like this-“ his comments were only confirmed by the way your hand scratched over his knuckles, as you felt them and his fingers shaking from the vigour of his rubbing. 

He was so sure of himself and there was nothing you could do to disagree when your body was so pliant and receptive to his actions. He frowned along with you when he felt you begin to go taught and when you breathily gasped his name, he scooped you into him and held you against him as you shook.

Shaking from an orgasm delivered by clit stimulation hadn’t happened since you first started exploring your own body as a teen. You folded into yourself, humming your whine at your sensitivity as you wrapped your left leg over your right and trapped his hand between your legs. 

You were sharing a kiss with him languidly before you could comprehend it. A non-verbal thank you at the orgasm he had just given to you. 

“Gonna need m’hand back at some point,” he mumbled, nose resting next to yours. 

“Don’t like it between my legs?” 

“Not as much as you do,” he quipped, hearing the sexiest snigger from you at his quick witted remark, confirming everything he already knew. “Can think of summat else y’like more?” 

You ground back against him, the move causing a gap to form between your squashed together thighs that had Harry able to drag his damp fingers against your soft skin, leaving a trail of you behind as he did. 

Left hand gripping at your hip, he saw the way you nestled against the glass. Left cheek pressed to the window so that the right side of your profile was visible.  

With your arms elevated above your head as you pressed your entire upper body weight to the window, he found himself thinking of your squashed tits against the usually impeccably, shining surface. 

Speaking of shiny, he was throbbing behind you. Aching. And the need to change that had him whipping himself out of his shorts and leaving them nestled underneath his bum cheeks.

You hazily smirked at him when he looked up at you from his glistening cock, tapping himself against the skin of your bum cheek, and hearing the tacky stick of his arousal and skin upon skin. 

He pulled at your body, stretching your back into a delicious curve as he bobbed behind you and nestled himself against the middle of your cheeks. 

Head down, hair hanging over his forehead as he studied the visual. He spat, this long dollop of saliva, onto his cock and watched as you went to reach behind you. At your movement he released a sound of disapproval.

“Hands,” he said firmly, seeing the way you complied and pressed your arms back up straight to keep your body pressed securely against the glass. “Ain’t this a sight for sore eyes,” his voice hummed deeply. “All stretched out, well,” he paused, humour to his tone. “Nearly all stretched out.” 

“Harry-“

He pushed his dick down from the top with the tips of his fingers, letting his sensitive head bump against the hole you had yet to explore. “Could be a nice change,” he mused. “Want tha’?”

Your whine was the thing that had him moving on, as his lips twitched into a chuckle that let you know that he knew that now was not the time, nor the place, to not just succumb to what it was you both knew so well. 

“Alright,” he exhaled the word lengthily. “Don’t want me in your arse. Cunt will do just nicely.”

“Do it nicely,” your mouth breathed heavily against the glass, a pool of steam imprinting onto the window as you spoke. 

“Don’t I always, eh?” 

When his head slipped in, your rolled your cheek to rest onto your forehead and you whined - whined - and he wasn’t even in yet. 

“Relax,” his hand soothed up from your lower back to sit in between your shoulder blades. 

“How can I do that when you’re shagging me with your socks on,” you retorted.

He spluttered his laugh through a closed lip smile, that had him clenching at your hips to hold you still. “I can see ‘em,” you continued, as he frowned and pressed forward some more, causing your mouth to fall with a delighted moan.

“Darlin’ gotta relax,” he gritted, struggling with the way you were taking him. “Be fair. Gave you yours.”

With pouting lips you pressed back, taking more of him on your own accord. “Tha’s right, push back. Christ.”

He bottomed out against you not long after, hands curving up to your waist and clenching as he pulled back, and thrusted with a dip to his knees that had you exhaling a shaky moan.

Your arse jiggled, cellulite and all, as he drove forward and usually you would’ve passed comment about it by now, but instead you were hanging your head between your shoulders as he grunted with the quickening pace.

“Let me shag you first,” he mouthed against your shoulder blade. “I can’t,” his jaw jutted. “I can’t stop this, ‘m desperate. Darlin’.”

You understood, he knew. Your wanton moans did nothing to tell him otherwise and instead only confirmed that you wanted him - needed him - just as rough as he was giving it. “I’ll have you after slowly, eh? So slowly.”

But he was listening to his own words now, slowing and teasing at the ebbing burn that was so deliciously consuming and had you whining your “no’s” that were really yeses. Because he hadn’t missed a beat and he was drawing your orgasm out of you quicker than you would have liked but - god - it was good. He was good. So good. And he knew it surely-

“‘S tha’ good?”

Maybe he didn’t. “Still like this?”

You looked back at him, just as he removed his concentrated gaze from where the two of you were going at it, to catch your open mouthed nod. His nostrils flared as he panted, snapping forward thanks to the pleasure-filled expression you had awarded him.

“Still know me.”

“Still fuckin’ know you,” he confirmed, jaw ticking as he gritted his teeth. 

“You’re gonna make me come so much.”

He pushed forward with more force, as your one hand reached behind you to feel the tense muscles of his abs as he digged and pulled. And you knew he was going to come before you but the strong emotion inside made you not care, you needed to see it.

He continued to fuck you, alternating between shallow strokes that drove you wild, to deep strokes that penetrated you meaningfully. As his rhythm started to waver he breathlessly spoke, “You haven’t-“ 

You shush him, urging him to press upon your back as much as he could. Before he did, he reached at the collar of his t-shirt and swiftly pulled it over his head, scrunching it up and using it to wipe away the sweat that has collated against his skin. Hair pushed back off his face and legs spread slightly wider, feet planted into the carpet of his living room, he leant upon you and rocked harshly, moving only his hips. 

They were stronger now, held more meaning. 

“Give it to me.”

This determination in his eyes appeared. “Fuck your wife,” you breathed. His eyes tried to read where you were and how much you were holding off. “‘M coming again,” you whispered in the lightest whine, knowing he wouldn’t leave you with just the one that night, but surprised at how quick you could feel it.

And it was your admission that started him. He growled when you begged him to “push it in”, and released a drawn out moan that resembled a curse word as he relaxed and gave into his own desires. 

“Shit, shitshitshit,” he hissed, pressing the two of you harshly against the glass as he came to his end. You were both trying desperately to regulate your breathing, which proved more difficult for you as Harry was resting heavily against you. 

As the two of you stood rested there, hot and sweaty bodies mixing with the condensation, you felt him nuzzling into you, pressing the faintest and most gentle kisses to your temple. 

As you regained your bearings, your chest struggled to catch up but you found yourself welcoming the cold of the window now. The room was quiet except for the moving of limbs and the sound of Harry’s now even breathing in your ear. 

You could sense the room around you shifting when he allowed his shorts to pool around his ankles, kicking them along the floor out of the way. He turned his attention back to you, scooping your back to his front as you felt his very naked form against you. 

“Missed you,” he admitted, his voice worn. His lips peppered kisses to your exposed shoulder and the top of you back before he mumbled against your skin. “Gonna get some things to clean up, stay right here.”

With a strong kiss to your shoulder, he left. And as you turned slightly to the right, you caught the visual of his bare arse as he tip-toed out to his bathroom to grab at one of the many flannels that you and he always kept next to the bath, for the kids to use when bathtime commenced. 

You knew he had told you not to move, but you could feel the panic hit you as fast as your comedown. You peeled your body away from the window and turned with legs pressed closely together, spotting the box tissues sitting on top of the table that housed the lampshade.

If there was ever a sign of a parent, it was the box of tissues on the side, or the half opened pack of baby wipes left wedged by the arm of a sofa, within reaching distance for those sticky hands before they pressed into the couch.

Skirt slipping down, now no longer held up by Harry’s grip, you reached for the tissues and grimaced as you cleaned yourself. The reality after the heat of the moment always so much grimmer than it was ever told to you.

Bra scooped up in your hand, you fiddled with it due to your trembling fingers; the clasp playing hard ball. It snapped against your skin before you bent down for your blouse and made light work of the buttons, roughly pushing it into your waistband. 

You were reaching for your shoes when you heard him returning, a whistle of an unknown tune leaving his lips but abruptly dying as he stopped in the doorway. 

His eyes were piercing as they didn’t blink. His face, void of any emotion quickly ran over your body, now redressed like nothing had happened. However the lack of underwear covering your modesty underneath your skirt told you otherwise. 

His scoff at the scene before you snapped him out of your stillness as you started to pull on your shoes. The added height made you wobbly, and you wished you could still blame the alcohol, but you were not inebriated in the slightest now. 

Harry felt in a weird place as he stood still, wet flannel in his hand, getting colder as he held it. He felt embarrassed that he’d even been considerate enough to wet the item using lukewarm water, so it was welcomed so much more by your sensitivity. An embarrassment that he knew would quickly become a burning rage.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” your voice permeated through the silence. 

His face fell from your words, swallowing heavily. “The wrong idea?” He was incredulous. “You’ve just let me fuck you in the middle of my living room and you’re telling me I’m getting the wrong idea.” 

Voice going straight through you, you pulled your gaze away from him and his naked figure. An answer was nowhere to be found, one didn’t even sit on your lips. He had you over a barrel with that one. 

“I thought-“

“You thought what?” You snapped, eyes straight onto his. “You thought that we could play happy families.”

Your words knocked the wind right out of him. The stoop to his body visible even in the dimly lit room. And it was heartbreaking. You were doing that to him. Sniffing, you ignored the closing of your throat, part of you willing him to have a go at you. To allow the bubbling verbal slanging to commence, but his heavy body was tired. 

Clearing your throat, you scooped up your jacket and bag declaring, “I’m leaving. Pick the kids up in the morning.”

Breezing passed his figure, the corner of your vision allowed you to see the clench to his jaw and tautness of his shoulders. You made it out into the hallway, halfway to the door before you heard him speak. 

“Might wanna take these wi’you an’all.”

His ambiguity caused you to turn, to walk the short distance back into the room before you were looking at him from the doorway. Knickers, scrunched up in his hand met your eyes, the harsh contrast of the black against his white skin hard not to notice. 

He sarcastically held them looser in his hand, the fabric dangling from his fingers, bitterly scoffing when you snatched them out of his grip and roughly shoved them into your bag, mortified. 

His laugh, a harsh single syllable “ha”, filled you with a sense of shame as you felt your face start to scrunch. He saw, because he started to apologise. A dying, “darling” on his lips as feeble as his touch that reached for you and narrowly missed.

“Don’t be late tomorrow.” 

The sound of the door banging shut caused him to growl, the flannel held in his hand was flung across the room, the item slapping against the painted white wall directly opposite him encapsulating his frustration.

Hands pressed into the back of the couch, Harry hung his head in between his shoulders as he tried to regulate his breathing. And for the first time since the divorce was filed, he let the sob he had been keeping within his body rack through him and fill the empty shell of an apartment. 

Naked and alone. That was when it really hit him.

He couldn’t save this. 

***

The incessant buzzing in his pocket was off-putting. It was so unlike him to leave his phone in his pocket when he was recording vocals, but he had simply forgotten and he was waiting for an important phone call from his solicitor that afternoon.

He sighed into the mic, raising his hands up to the producers in the booth. “Sorry, hang on,” he spoke, reaching for his phone and moving the headphones to loop around his neck. 

A deep frown etched upon his brow as he fished the phone out of his pocket and saw your name on his screen. He found himself slightly breathless as he took in the photograph he still had as your contact photo, one he’d taken that was always slightly risqué for you overlooking the Positano coastline.

“I need to take this.”

Clearing his throat he turned his back to the window and slid his finger across the phone. “Hello-“

“H-“

Harry felt his chest tighten at the use of his nickname. He hadn’t heard it from you in so long, he wasn’t surprised it hit him with the amount of force it had. The way you spoke, fast and breathless, as he zoned out was what had him on high alert instantly. Even more so when you’re eldest sons names was mentioned.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he licked his dry lips. “Calm down, what’s happened to him?”

“We’re in an ambulance, they think he’s broken his arm but they don’t know if it’s worse than that. The school-“

“Wait, this ‘appened at school?”

“We’re going to Royal Free-“ you didn’t respond to his question. “Will you be able to get there?”

“‘M comin’ now,” he spoke quickly, pulling his headphones from around his neck and pulling open the door of the recording booth. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes, ‘m in Central.”

“Please don’t speed-“

“I don’t gi’a fuck ‘bout gettin’ a ticket-“ he harshly spoke, hands snatching for his keys and wallet that he had dropped carelessly onto the couch when he first got the studio earlier than morning. 

“No, but ideally we want you there in one piece.”

He felt a tightness rage through his body as he walked with purpose out of the studio. Harry held his tongue as he heard your words, wanting to bite back spiteful words of how you didn’t seem so caring since he had last been in your presence. Regardless of how long or short it had been.

Instead he swallowed harshly, slamming his car door shut and throwing his wallet onto the passenger seat. He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before he announced, “‘m in the car, so I better go.” 

Clearing his throat, he continued, “Text me or summat if you get moved from A&E by the time I get there.”

He let your reassurance go into one ear and out the other as he hung up without even speaking his goodbyes. His head, filled with all kinds of emotions, dropped back against the headset before he covered his face with his hand and growled. 

Slowly sliding his palms down and away from his face, he fiddled with his keys and let the engine of his newly bought Mercedes G-Wagon roar to life. 

Harry managed to make his way out of the city and get to Soho before the car had had to change to nothing more than a crawl. He tried to not let his eyes fall onto the inbuilt satnav in fear that it would only confirm what he already knew, that he was going to be stuck in traffic for far longer than the normal twenty-minute drive would usually take. 

“Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, watching as the car in front of him let another car into the traffic, as it pulled out from a side street. “Yeah, that’s right mate. Let everyone into the fucking traffic, ‘s not like m’sons in ‘ospital or ‘owt, you fuckin’ wanker.” 

Hands clenched around the wheel, Harry fought against his urge to beep his horn and avoided letting himself creep too close to the rear end of the car in front just to piss that driver off. 

Instead he tried to relax, to sit back against his seat and ignore the bounce of his left leg as he sat idling in traffic. He knew his body wouldn’t have any of it, hands fiddling with the different knobs on the dashboard as the car windows started to steam up.

He turned his heaters on feeling the warm blast of air hit him square in the face. Agitated he slapped the air vents to close them and fiddled with the knobs. “Get a fuckin grip, Harry,” he spoke to himself, watching as the warm air blasted onto his window and removed the condensation.  

As he glanced around the window, his eyes zoned in on the left hand side of the car, closer to the passenger seat. A sarcastic laugh left him, a small shake of his head as he said, “Fucking birds shit on me window now an’ all, couldn’t fuckin’ write it could ya eh?”

He closed his eyes knowing that the harsh muttering under his breath stemmed from a worry that he had never felt before, Harry tried to shake it off. Focus on the traffic again, he saw the car in front of him slowly start to roll forward. 

Snapping into action, he couldn’t help himself as he added one final quip of, “Hallelujah we ‘ave lift off!”

The last fifteen minutes of his ride seemed to be a breeze as he got to the end of the street and wondered what had been the hold up, considering there was no traffic to be seen. 

Once he turned onto Prince of Wales Road he knew he didn’t have far to go; just that he would have to deal with hospital car parking, which was always a delightful nightmare.

The multi-storey car park at Royal Free Hospital had been a god send on many an occasion when he’d brought you in those early stages for your second pregnancy, after you’d had your blood spotting scare, but now the car park was non-existent. Instead it was located upper south car park which was off the hospital grounds, and a whole nine minute walk from the hospital itself.

“Nine fucking minutes,” he grumbled, pulled on his coat as he pressed the button on the car keys and started the trek. “This hospital is a fucking shit show.”

His footsteps were quick, his feet catching against the pavement underneath him as he tried to get to both you and his son as quickly as possible. He apologised as he bumped into a man, stood outside and smoking next to a “no smoking sign”. 

Breath slightly heavier, his eyes ran over everybody that was sat in the A&E waiting room. Not one figure was you and his first born. Fishing out his phone he noted that you hadn’t texted him, turning and walking to the front desk and politely getting the attention of a nurse filling in some paperwork.

He knew she recognised him, but now wasn’t the time nor the place as he asked about your whereabouts. She smiled softly at him, clearly sending the worry from his frantic delivering of his questions. Three or four in quick succession asking what had happened, where he could find you both.

“Mr Styles,” the nurse started, “They haven’t long gone through; a doctor has been assigned to them so they’ll be in a cubicle. Just let me get you the number you’re looking for.” 

Harry nodded, clumsily fumbling with his car keys and watching as she turned to look at a board against the back of the nursing station, half hidden from his view.

“I’ll take you through, your wife will be glad to see you. She was a bit shaken when she came in.” 

He knew immediately it was down to the clingy nature that had no doubt taken over your eldest son’s demeanour. Something that you always found difficult to comprehend considering he - for the longest time - appeared to have outgrown his kisses and cuddles.

Harry found it difficult to respond to the nurse, humming from time to time, before he felt himself come to a standstill when his eyes were set on your figure. 

He was hesitant, eyeing you and watching as you conversed with a much younger nurse who handed you a clipboard with papers attached. 

His eyes were everywhere, something he would never admit to anyone but himself. You looked, dare he say it, mum-sy. Hair pulled back in a messy top knot, glasses perched on your face. 

You were in a world of your own, eyes dropping down to the forms that you had been asked to fill out, bombarded with information and absorbing none of it. 

Lifting your eyes you were met with Harry and the close lipped smile he flashed to the nurse who had brought him to you. He looked bedraggled, and every inch a worried father, but hopefully of a sounder mind that you to complete the forms you had just been handed. 

He glanced over as he half listened to the nurse, looking away only to quickly place his eyes back onto yours in a double glance. 

“Thank you,” you just about heard him say to the Sister on the nursing team within the Accident and Emergency. 

The minute he stepped closer to you, you felt your nerves heighten. How would he react to the situation you found yourself in? He sounded concerned when you called, but a touch irritated nonetheless.

Pulling the clipboard to your chest, your crossed your arms against the plastic as a way to hold it to your body. If anyone asked, it was just easier to hold that way and nothing to do with closing yourself off.

When his hand rested against the top of your arm, you shrank into yourself. 

“Where’s my lad?” He asked once he locked eyes with you, noticing how your right hand was gripping at the clipboard and the way your eyes watered at the emotion within his voice.

“In here?” Harry nudged his head to the curtain that he stood in front of, in the busy corridor. 

You hummed, unable to meet his eyes for long. “What you got ‘ere?”

“Some forms we need to fill in about allergies, I don’t know I wasn’t really listening-“

He heard the crack in your voice, ignoring the need to keep his distance and pulled you towards him with a strong arm around the tops of your shoulders. 

“Can fill ‘em in after,” he pushed them to the side. “What you doin’ stood out ‘ere, should be in there wi’him.”

“We shouldn’t be here at all,” your voice was thick as it caught in your throat, causing Harry to pull away to look at you. “I wasn’t even in work today and I still said he needed to stay at the after school rugby because ‘m too fucking busy-“

“Hey,” Harry stopped your start to the self-loathing. “He’s alright.”

“He’s in hospital,” your face crumpled as you spoke.

“And he needs his Mummy, so what are you doing out ‘ere?” His voice was hard as he questioned you, sighing through his clenched teeth and closing his eyes. 

Breathing deeply, he turned his attention to walking through the curtain and in on your eldest son. The almost seven years old didn’t notice his arrival with eyes fixed firmly on what Harry recognised to be your phone.

“What did I say about no games on the phone or iPad before homework?” 

You watched as your son's eyes shot up from the game he was playing, the phone dropping gently into his lap as he half-sat, half-lay on the hospital bed. His little face lighting up at Harry’s appearance. 

Harry’s eyes looked over his son, the grey rugby uniform with the schools emblem resting on his body. He looked really grown up, which caused an ache in Harry’s chest. All this shared visitation and weekend custody wasn’t enough for him. His little boy, the one that made him a Daddy, wasn’t little anymore.

“Dad, look at my cast.”

“I know, mate. I can see,” Harry walked further into the room. 

“Don’t be moving,” you started, watching as your son began to lift his arm to show the cast that he had chosen. “It won’t have set in place yet-“

“Darling, ‘s alright,” Harry looked at you, watching as your shoulders sagged. “What’ve you been doin’, frightening me and Mum like tha’.” 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, dropping his eyes when Harry turned his attention onto him and moved the phone from the bed and onto the side, brushing his son’s curling dark hair from across his forehead. 

Lips against his first borns forehead, he whispered, “Don’t make a habit out of this, worrying your old man t’death.”

“You’ll always worry-“ 

Harry ignored your comment, feeling your son laugh lightly at the bickering between you both but lean into his embrace. 

“What do you think of the colour?”

“Thinks it’s cool.”

“Don’t think it’s too girly?” 

“Thought you’d have gone with red for Iron Man-“

“He’s not into that anymore, wants me to buy him the Lord of the Rings boxset-“ you interjected, feeling slightly left out at the way the two of them conversed closely; almost feeling like you were intruding on their bonding. “Something about a movie marathon-“

Harry felt his lips twitch as he pushed forward and kissed the top of his son's head; recalling how they’d started watching the films together on their last weekend spent at Harry’s. He remembered the way his son had joined him having woken up and fallen asleep in his arms when the films got too much and the clock edged closer to midnight. 

“Love you, mate.”

“Love you, Dad.”

You decided to leave them to it not long after their exchange, turning to the other side of the room to fill in the four forms that had been handed to you. 

Harry joined you shortly after, having handed your phone back to your son after he requested another ten minutes on the item, to which Harry caved in. 

You eyed him after he’d stood next to you, shaking your head.

“What,” he stressed, as you looked up at him again from under your brow. “He’s allowed the pass, just this once.”

“Oh yeah, and what about the other times?” You joked, quickly turning the page over and ticking the boxes that applied. 

“What other times?” He feigned innocence, hearing you laugh under your breath. As you silently filled in the forms, you heard him ask who had managed to pick your middle boy and daughter from school and nursery respectively.

“Your Mum,” you replied with ease, feeling his body still against the surface. “Contrary to the belief of Eloise at the last meeting, me and your Mother do still talk.” 

Harry looked uneasy when you lifted your gaze to look at him, knowing he had been caught out with his game playing at trying to drag out divorce proceedings, and create unnecessary battles at each stage. 

He knew his Mum was in town but he hadn’t had a chance to spend time with her just yet, knowing that she was busy helping Gemma with her big move. 

“Don’t know where she got that from?” You wistfully questioned, watching his skin pinken in embarrassment. 

The two of you held each other’s stare for the longest time, chests heaving as you admired each other’s faces and tried to see who would be the first to break. 

His blush was enough. 

“Can we go home now?”

You snapped your eyes away from Harry as they fell onto your son. He sat, face so alike your own with Harry’s eyes staring back at you, that you found yourself unable to respond.

“Course we can,” Harry replied with ease. “Let me and Mum do some grown up things and then you can have a go in Dad’s new car.”

Again his eyes lit up and you found yourself looking away from a scene that you couldn’t compete with, harshly scribbling down a response to an allergy question which would allow the hospital to provide him with an alternative pain relief option without penicillin. 

Quickly excusing yourself, you walked to the nurses station and handed over the forms, slowly meandering back to the cubicle and watching the way Harry soothingly stroked the hair off your sons face.

You could tell he was tired, the way his eyes were heavy as he tried to keep his gaze on Harry. His blinks got slower and slower each time, eyes occasionally popping open as he fought sleeping.

“‘S okay to sleep, mate,” Harry chuckled on your son’s last attempt to keep his eyes open. “Daddy’s gonna be ‘ere when you wake up-“

“Promise-“

The single word leaving your sons lips made your heart ache. 

“Promise you,” Harry mumbled, kissing his forehead again. “‘M right here.”

***

Harry held your limp son in his arms, head resting against his shoulder and legs long. 

He was too big for this kind of treatment, the kind that had you stroking softly at his hair and face with the backs of your fingers as you stood in the queue to pay for your hospital parking, but you didn’t care. 

Harry was grumbling beside you, his eyes running over the signs as you juggled with the information sheets for the Greenstick Fracture that had been identified.

“Bastard three quid an hour for parking,” he muttered, causing you to snap out of your daze. “Tha’s daylight robbery!”

“You’re a tight sod, Harry,” you tightly replied, turning to look at him as you saw him fishing out his wallet from his coat pocket, a small smile on his lips at how he’d gotten a rise from you.

Looking you square in the eye now, he responded, “Have’ta be if someones trying to fleece me in a divorce.”

His face was smarmy, eyes alight as you felt a burn in your throat at his words. You knew he was joking but given the upset of the situation you found yourself in, you didn’t quite know how to react. It wasn’t a laughing matter, yet it had become some sort of laughter source at the expense of everyone involved. 

“How much is some private landlord swindling me out of?”

You were meek as you replied, “Eighteen pound.”

“Call it a twenty,” he spoke, handing over his wallet, “‘ere. Shove the change in tha’ charity box.”

“Machine doesn’t give change.”

He scoffed, “Why am I not surprised?”

You didn’t respond, letting the machine snatch at the twenty pound note and spit out a ticket for you to scan at the barricade to allow you out of the multi-storey car park down the road.

“D’ya wanna go and get the car?” Harry asked as you stepped to the side of the hospital to collect yourselves. 

You eyed him. “You’re going to let me drive your new car.”

He smiled, “‘ve let you do worse in-“

“Shush-“ you were harsh, watching as he rolled his lips into his mouth, not wanting him to finish his sentence because unlike your son and the rest of your family, you had seen Harry’s car since he brought it just over a week ago. “What level did you park on?”

“Four.”

Not much more questioning was spoken after that, he told you to get the keys out of his coat pocket and away you went. The distance to the car in the dark wasn’t the nicest to make, the cold evening catching up with you and how you hadn’t grabbed for a coat in a panic after receiving a phone call about your baby from the school. 

The Black G-Wagon lit to life as you pulled open the car door thanks to the inside light and you quickly found yourself sat inside. You hated driving these kinds of cars, but having both moved to London to live and with your small army of kids, they were the sort of cars that had become a necessity. 

Resting against the seat, your body fell slack as you found yourself overwhelmed by the smell of Harry. You crumpled, hands covering your face as you silently cried to yourself; an enormous amount of guilt racking through you about an array of things. A feeling that was only strengthened by the scene of the three empty car seats in the back of the vehicle. 

Today’s accident, the interaction between Harry and your son, the way that you were a cause of both of those things happening or helping to enable the bond to wither.

Quickly you pulled yourself together, clearing your throat and sniffing harshly. Pulling down the visor above your hand you wiped at your face, pushing your glasses frames up into your hair as you tried to remove any smudging to your makeup, before returning them to the bridge of your nose. 

Turning the car on you carefully pulled out of the parking space that Harry had seemed to just abandon his car in (his parking not even within the two white lines for one space), and drove to exit barrier.

Ticket accepted, the barrier raised and you drove the short three minute drive to the front of the hospital; glad that it was so short that you didn’t have time to think too much. 

Your eyes took in Harry, who had somehow managed to get half of his coat wrapped across your sons body, his cheek resting against the side of his head as he swayed lightly in the London evening, waiting for you at the drop off and pick up point. 

Carefully manoeuvring into a space, you jumped out and heard him commenting on how you’d pulled into the spot. You glared at him, turning to busy yourself with opening the back door of the car and allowing him to walk closer to the vehicle to place your son into his car seat.

“‘S okay, baby,” you whispered as Harry gently strapped him in, and he grumbled from the discomfort.

“I know, I know. Daddy’s sorry-“ he muttered, watching the way his little boy’s face fell back to being peaceful. “You know the blankets in the boot? Will yer grab his?”

The mention en passant about the blankets didn’t go amiss, but you didn’t acknowledge it. Instead you walked to the back of the car and searched for the blanket. 

“Don’t want these little legs getting cold for the drive home, do we, mate?” Harry whispered, standing to full height as he pulled his body out of the car. 

His eyes roamed the few people outside the hospital, an elder gentleman watching the scene in front of him that was Harry and you. “You’re very lucky,” he commented in a thick London accent, a sad smile hitting his lips.

Harry nonverbally acknowledged him with a nod of the head, as you walked back around to him with a blanket in hand. He went to take it out of your grip but you whispered, “No, let me.”

Stepping around you, he heard the way you mentioned that the keys were still sat in the ignition, before he jumped into the drivers side, and fiddled with the seat that he knew you would’ve adjusted due to your difference in height and being unable to reach the car pedals. 

He heard you whispering quietly to your sleeping son as you gently tucked him in with the garish Iron Man blanket. “Mummy does it better, Daddy doesn’t know how to always tuck you in tight does he?”

“Hey, ‘m getting better,” Harry commented, hearing you softly laugh at how he was slightly offended. 

“That’s what he thinks, eh?” You responded to your little boy, who was still out for the count. 

Harry smiled in the drivers side, turning the engine on and messing with the heat settings to ensure that the chill was taken off the car to avoid waking up the sleeping boy. 

“Gotta get goin’, doll. Only supposed to be ‘ere for five minutes.”

Nose against your son's hair, you lightly breathed him in before pressing the softest kiss to his hair and pulled back out of the car to close the door on him. 

Joining Harry in the front of the car, you saw the way he stuck his thumb up at the security guard who had eased off and allowed you that little bit extra time in the set-down parking zone. 

The drive to the house was quiet, your body turned half in your seat, watching to make sure your son didn’t move too much in his sleep to cause any pain against the sling that his broken arm was now strapped up in for extra support.

Harry let his gaze fall to you a few times from the corner of his vision. He wondered if the thoughts he was having about the difference in how you had both found yourselves in his car this time, were as loud in your head as they were within his.

He slowed his car to crawl down the last streets, before coming to a halt outside the house that he once knew so well, which has since grown foreign to him.

“Haven’t changed the gate code, ‘av ya?” He asked, as he reached out of the car window to punch the digits into the keypad to open the black gate.

The electric buzzing revealed to him, before you could respond, that you had left the code the same as it had always been since he first moved in in 2012. 

The sound of his tyres on the gravel was a sound both he and you had missed. It was far and few between that Harry would pick the kids up since that fateful night when you’d drunkenly fumbled in the middle of his living room.

Yet, here you were, finding delight in the smallest of things like tyres against gravel. It sounded silly but you found yourself holding onto things like that more and more.

“Coming in for a cuppa?” You whispered, when he rested against his seat. He lolled his head to the side and looked at you wistfully. 

“Only ‘f I’m making’ ‘em,” he slurred, tiredness catching up with you. 

“Nothing wrong with my tea making skills, you cheeky sod. Was fine all them years we were living together and married-“ your sentence died on your tongue as you watched the way he smiled.

“Are we not still married?” He asked, voice light. 

You became flustered, suddenly reaching for everything around you and not knowing what to grab first. “Will you get him and I’ll unlock the doors-“

“Yeah, ‘s fine,” Harry whispered, willing you to slow down in your mad rush. You were out of the car like a shot after you’d heard his answer, lightly jogging to the front door and quickly unlocking it. 

“She never changes, does she, your Mum?” Harry started, regardless of knowing that his son was still asleep. He knew without looking at him, the sound of his soft snores filling the car. “Always wearing herself into the ground.”

Jumping out of the car, he quickly walked to the door behind his and set about unbuckling his almost seven year old son. With a heave, he was on Harry’s shoulder again, grumbling as Harry shushed him, gently encouraging him to go back to sleep.

“Since when did you become such a big lad,” he mumbled, walking into the house and pressing his lips into the side of his son’s head. “Stop growing, Dad can’t keep up.”

He found you in the living room, manoeuvring pillows to create a resting place for the two of you to lay your little boy, so he could continue his slumber comfortably. 

You watched as Harry sat down on the edge of the couch, turning his attention to removing the uncomfortable parts his son’s private school uniform. 

“Careful, Harry-“

“‘S fine,” Harry interjected, as his son softly whined in his sleep at the jostling. “He’ll go back down.”

“Watch his arm-“

Harry didn’t comment, knowing you meant well even if you were pointing out the obvious. He didn’t quite know how he’d managed to heave him onto the couch, but Harry gently placed his son down without fully waking him. A slight grumble here and there that were quickly and gently shushed. 

The shuffling behind him let him know that you had left the two of them in the room, Harry making light work of the school shoes on his son’s feet, and holding them in one hand and the jacket in the other. 

He discarded them in the hallway. Shoes on the shoe rack and coat on the assigned pegs. He followed you into the kitchen, seeing you silently turn on the kettle and feeling hopeful that your offer of having a drink was a genuine one rather than a polite gesture. More so when he saw that you had taken down two mugs from the cupboard and not just one. 

“Changed the colour of the hallway,” he commented, resting against the counter behind him and folding his arms across his chest. “How long’s it been grey?”

“Not long,” you hummed. “Dad came and did it for me. Your dad-“

“Me Dad?”

From his interjection, you looked at him. “They dropped in one afternoon after golfing. Mentioned it in passing, week later they both turned up and by the time I was home it had been given two fresh coats of paint.” 

“Should’ve said ‘f yeh needed anythin’ doing.”

Before he could stop himself he broke the sad silence as you both realised things were changing, “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, this was supposed to be our forever home. You said that to me, all those years ago, stood in this very kitchen.”

Rather than insight sadness within you, his words created a bubble of anger, something you tried to nonchalantly hide. With a blase tone you replied, “Things change.”

That annoyed him.

“No they don’t,” his tone was clipped. “They don’t just change. Not like that.” There was a snapping sound behind you, one that you assumed had come from him clicking his thumb and finger to emphasise his words. His voice sounded again, “Not in a blink of an eye when we’re three kids deep, doesn’t happen.” 

And you knew it did, because so many parents were facing it at your children’s school, but you stayed quiet. Swallowing harshly, you heard the kettle click to signal that it had boiled. 

Tongue running along the front of your teeth, you poured the hot water into the mugs, feeling the aggravation radiating off Harry.

Walking to the fridge, still in silence, you pulled out the milk and poured a splash into your mug. “Are you still off the dairy?” You sarcastically asked, letting the milk hover over what would be his mug.

“Forget the fucking tea-“

You ignored him, pouring milk into his mug and making it the perfect colour that you knew he would drink. Part of you hated how you still knew him so well, right down to the shade of tea he preferred. 

His harsh words lingered in the quiet kitchen, the two of you not knowing how to break the icy atmosphere. He stood dejected at how you couldn’t look at him now, and he wondered whether it was down to how the environment you were standing in hadn’t changed regardless of the fresh layers of paint trying to mask the cracks. 

Everything was practically the way he remembered. Photos and drawings on the fridge. The breakfast stuff from that very morning stacked in the sink, waiting to be rinsed and loaded into the dishwasher.

And he didn’t know what came over him but he did exactly that. Pushing himself away from the counter that he was resting against, he turned on the tap and rinsed away crumbs on the breakfast plates before bending down and stacking them into the dishwasher.

And you let him do, standing there with two teas that were now too strong as you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to strain the teabags and drink them. 

He groaned as he stood to full height, shutting the dishwasher door. Head hanging down as he pressed his palms to the work surface, his begging voice permeated the silence. “Tell me how to make it better-“

“You can’t,” you were dejected. 

He was determined, however, regardless of how sad. “I can,” he looked across at you, standing and turning so his back was against the counter. “You want the legal separation, ‘s yours. I’ll give it to you if it’s what you want-“

His words caught in his throat as he kept your eyes with his as he continued. 

“Even if s’not wha’ I want. But you’ve gotta tell me cause ‘m in love wi’you and can’t keep shagging you when you come to me half-cut, and then have you claim you don’t remember a thing when I’m feeding you the next morning.” 

You snapped your eyes away from him, feeling him continue to stare at you regardless of how much you tried to block it out. 

“You know I’m in love with you, so you’ve gotta stop coming to my place because you know I can’t turn you away cause that’s not fair-“

Before you could stop yourself, you cut in, “Stop thinking with the wrong head.” 

And just as quick he shot back, “Or maybe just stop opening your fucking legs.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when you moved straight in front of him; delivering a slap across his face. 

You gasped your cry in shock at how you’d hit him. His jaw clenched and head turned to the side, as he moved it from side to side, feeling the burning sensation of your lashing out. 

“Harry,” his name died on your lips as you reached for him but felt him step away from your touch.

His head was hanging as he laughed, just the once, shaking his head. “Can’t believe I was suckered in to think that you’d changed your mind.”

“It’s just sex-“

“No,” he shot his head up to look you in the eyes, “It’s just sex when you do it once. Not every weekend and certainly not three fucking days ago in the back of my fuckin’ car.” 

You were stumped because he wasn’t wrong, which was why you were both stood just staring at each other. The juxtaposition of looking into the back seats of the car earlier at the hospital, housing your children’s car seats when 72 hours prior you’d had him sweaty against them as you rode him. 

Closing your eyes at the visual entering your mind, you forced yourself to look at him when you heard him starting to move. 

Suddenly, it was like a whirlwind when he swiped up his coat and the car keys he had discarded on the kitchen side. You almost felt planted watching him collect himself together with a tight expression. Somehow now he had got the upper hand and you were scrambling after him before you could stop yourself.

Desperate hushed whisper of his name left your lips as you followed behind him, Harry took long strides out of the house, leaving the front door open wide behind him because regardless of how much he would vehemently deny it, he wanted you to follow after him.

Gravel of your driveway was loud under your feet as you followed him to the car, and a sound that you were so happy to hear not even an hour ago was now mocking. Suddenly you were fighting with him to get to the lock of the driver side, somewhat thankful that his key fob to automatically open the car was temperamental regardless of how new his latest boy’s toy was.

You were fighting with him to cover up the lock of the door so he couldn’t open the car. Pushing his hands away, you tried to wrestle the keys from his grip and in some form of wanting defiance, you ultimately ended up turning your back to rest against the car door.

You were covering the drivers side, staring straight into his eyes that flashed more with hurt rather than anger in that moment as he jutted his jaw up slightly. “Move,” he was forceful with his words, jaw clenched.

You hated to admit to it, but he was way more masculine when he was angry. His shoulders and chest heaved as he tried to control his temper and his jaw was that much bigger as he fought against saying something he knew he was going to regret.

“Make me,” you challenged in return, watching the way his nostrils flared and eyes flashed with an anger that you hadn’t seen in the longest time.

“Don’t push it,” he responded but you knew he wouldn’t do a thing, cause he would’ve done it by now rather than staying stood angry and stoic in front of you. 

“You’re not driving ho- away like this,” you spoke reaching for his face, catching yourself. He was home, he wasn’t going to be driving home. He quickly pulled away from your touch, looking up to the dark sky. “Just come back inside. Please. Please, come back inside. Even if just to cool off-“ you dropped your face into his chest, feeling his arms limp by his sides as you clung to him. Slowly you felt the way his hand slid up into the hair at the back of your neck, fingers scratching lightly.

“Gonna ‘av to let me make another brew ‘f I come back in-“

Against your emotional state you found yourself laughing, and pressing your face against him tighter. 

“I’ll even sneak an extra sugar in yours,” he stroked his thumb against your jaw. 

“‘M meant to be dieting,” you mumbled incoherently into his chest. 

“Look alright to me,” he hummed. “Look more than alright.”

“You would say that,” you deadpanned, feeling him scoop you closer to him, anchoring your body to his. As he lightly began to sway you both, the ringing of his phone caused him to pull away.

Staring at the screen he saw his Mum’s caller ID and quickly swiped to answer her. “Hey Mum,” he softly spoke. “No we’re home now, can bring them back anytime-“

You knocked your head back looking up at him, he smiled down at you, brushing some of your hair back as you softly smiled. You nodded agreeing to how he had asked for your other two children to be returned to you both.

“I’m gonna go in,” you whispered, seeing him acknowledge you with a nod, watching the way his slipped away from him. 

“Yeah I’m still here, Mum,” you heard him continue his conversation, looking at him over your shoulder and seeing if he would follow behind you. “Hang on a sec-“

As you looked back at him, he turned to look at you. “Let me just finish this and I’m right behind you,” he raised the phone, admiring - even if only for the shortest time - your soft smile.

“No rush,” you dipped your head as you walked into the house and lingered in the doorway of your living room to check on your son.

Harry pulled the phone back to his ear outside, “Thanks for giving them their tea. We haven’t long got home so we’re starving this end.” 

“Do you need me to bring some leftovers and then you can just warm ‘em up when I get there?”

“You don’t have to-“

“Don’t be daft, it’s no problem. I’ll bring what we have left.”

Harry smiled but didn’t verbally respond, listening to his Mum tell him she’d get there as quick as she could. He knew he’d see her within the next thirty minutes. 

With that thought he braced himself, turning after taking a deep breath to walk back to the house.

You were treading on eggshells when you sat at the breakfast bar, kettle boiling when he lingered in the kitchen doorway. 

Peeling his coat off when he entered the room, he set about making the next round of drinks and empty out the cups that neither of you had previously drank. As he poured them down the drain, the dull thud of the tea bag hitting the sink filled your senses as you kept your eyes off his figure. 

You needed to apologise. Wanted to, even.

You were wrong. So wrong and so very sorry. Lashing out was never the answer, regardless of how low the words he had spoken. 

Cup of tea pressed to the island in front of you, his voice explained his tea making skills to your preference. “Two sugars, milky,” he warmly described.

You reached for his hand once lifted off the mug handle, you caught it and turned to look at him. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so-“

He shushed you, as the sound of a knock cut your apology short. “Later, okay? Let’s talk later. I’ll go and see who that is.”

You nodded, swallowed harshly as he walked around you and answered the door. As soon as it was open, his middle lad zoomed straight passed him, heading in your direction, always a Mummy’s boy.

From one Mummy’s boy to another, Harry’s eyes were set straight on Anne as she stood on the doorstep and silently tried to talk to him. He got the message pulling the door to as he stepped out on the doorstep as well to join her.

His soft gaze fell onto his sleeping daughter, mouth open, but somehow still managing to house her thumb that she had taken to sucking in order to self-soothe. 

Turning back to Anne he said, “Please don’t say anything. Don’t make this a big deal.” 

Anne didn’t say anything, turning her body slightly when Harry guestered to wanting to take his little girl off her hands. He lightly groaned as he took his daughter into his arms, mumbling lightly against her hair, “C’mere, best girl.”  

Once she was settled against him, he took up a small rocking motion from side to side as he held his mother’s concerned gaze. “Are you okay, my baby?”

He tried to duck the hand that she brought to his face but failed, feeling her nails scratch gently against his hair as she pushed it back off his face, like you had seen him doing earlier in the hospital to your baby. 

Harry below out a massive sigh, his bottom lip quivering from many emotions - mainly uncertainty. “‘M okay, he just gave us a scare and I don’t want to not be here tonight. Don’t want her on her own-“

Anne gave him this knowing look, staying silent for a while before responding with, “Change her mind.”

Harry’s voice was shaky as he replied, “‘m tryin’, Mum.”

She nodded, adding, “Cause it’s more than just you two. It’s this little one right here and those two beautiful little boys you should be thinking about so stop acting like you’re the kids here-“

His lips twitched as she started giving him a dressing down on his own doorstep. “Don’t fancy coming in for a drink?”

“I love you, Harry but I’ve got a bottle of wine and a boxset with my name on it. They’re exhausting-“

His smile deepened as he let his eyes look down at his youngest. “Worth it, though.”

“Won’t argue with you for a second there. Get inside and be with your family, call me in the morning.”

Harry nodded as he accepted the kiss to his cheek, and watched his Mum press a kiss to her grand baby’s forehead. “Night night, my darling. Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” she whispered against her only granddaughters hair before retreating to her car. 

Harry waved her off, watching her leave his property and ventured back into the house to the sound of hushed voices in the kitchen, with his youngest son animatedly interacting with his mother. 

Your middle baby was all you. Not only in his temperament, but in the way he looked and the way that he always clung to you. Often Harry felt like he was intruding when the two of you had your time together, and it was probably something that he should address at some point, but that point wasn't right now.

“I’m gonna gonna go and put her down,” he said, turning slightly so you could see the way that she was dead to the world. “Don’t know if you’re planning on winding down with him?”

You nodded, looking at your littlest. “Did your Mum not want to come and say hello?”

“It wasn’t like that‍,” he sighed. “I think they wore her out, couldn’t wait to see the back of ‘em. Grandparent privileges, getting to hand ‘em back, innit?”

You chuckled under your breath at how candid he was, and how correct his words were. “Gonna come and join Dad in winding down for bed, mate?”

Big eyes blinked up at you, slowly turning to look over at Harry. Resting against you, you felt him nod. “Come on then,” Harry softly smiled, addressing his son and moving his body, “room for you too.”

Trying to fight back your emotion, you watched as your younger boy climbed onto Harry’s back from where you had sat him on the kitchen counter.

“Careful H,” you choked, as his hand rested against the bum of your son while he continued to hold your daughter against his front.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him. Hold on tight, don’t want Daddy to drop your sister-“ Harry felt his boy shake his head ‘no’, his little arms wrapping a bit tighter against Harry’s neck, before he exited out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. 

***

You left Harry to be in charge of bedtime, it all becoming a little too much for you when you overheard your eldest sleepily letting his “daddy” know that he was glad to have him home.

You wondered if Harry has struggled with that one, knowing his eldest didn’t refer to him as Daddy anymore, always opting for Dad. But you gathered that he had, as you sneaked a look behind the door and watched him press his nose into his son’s hair, before breathing out his response of, ”Me too.”

He walked in on you twenty or so minutes later with one hand full of dirty school washing and another housing microwavable Tupperware with the leftover lasagna that Anne has pushed into Harry’s spare hand earlier in the evening. 

Having discarded the lunchbox on the side, Harry - seeing a frown upon your face - got rid of the dirty school uniform placing it in the utility room for washing and walked back into the kitchen.

You heard him rummaging with the lunchbox, pushing it into your microwave and blasting the leftovers with heat. “You fancy some of this leftover lasagna Mum left me with?”

Humming, only half listening as you read, you thanked him softly when you saw that he’d rested two forks into the side of the Tupperware, which was now just right with heat, rather than piping hot.

Seeing that you were reading the accident report from today’s incident at the school, and still wearing a frown, he broke the stillness. “What’s wrong?” 

His front was to your back, hands on your shoulders as you kept your eyes trained on the accident report, reading it before raising it behind you for Harry to take. He kept his left hand on your shoulder, his right taking the paper and reading it.

There was a silence as he read exactly what you had, and you were sure that he was joining the dots just like you had done. From what you had read it was quite clear that the accident today had had malicious intent behind it. 

“We’re paying almost twenty grand a year for this shit-“ Harry’s voice pierced through the slow breathing as he finished reading. He threw the paper down to the kitchen surface, “s’not good enough!”

His outburst caused you to jump slightly, his voice - while not booming - something that you weren’t expecting. Harry felt your body jolt, causing him to  squeeze at your shoulders in a non-verbal apology as he moved to stand at your side rather than behind you.

While you stood in silence, staring directly ahead of you and quite clearly trying to compute and join the dots. He leaned against the worktop, reaching for the fork and realising that while now wasn’t exactly the best time to eat, for him to comprehend anything, he needed to have some substance within his stomach before it ate itself inside out. 

“Why hasn’t he said anything?” You questioned softly after a couple of minutes. 

The guilt rolled through you. The guilt on how both you and Harry had been so swamped by your own pathetic battles, sorting our solicitors fees and magistrate dates. Who should have what assets, and how you would spend your time co-parenting as much as you possibly could, that you’d missed this. 

The feeling that your little boy did not want to burden you with the troubles he was facing at school. Aspects of his life turned upside, and his safe haven of learning and playtime infiltrated and tarnished, by the aspect of another who possibly saw him as an easy target. 

You realised that you were on the verge of tears when you next spoke, “If he felt like he couldn’t come to me because he thought we were already going through enough and-“ you paused, thinking back to the times when Harry was originally gone, and your eldest would sleep beside you in Daddy’s place in bed because he didn’t want Mommy to be on her own. 

Harry, who stood feeling somewhat helpless regardless of the anger that racked through him, responded, “This is not your fault. I’ll go in tomorrow and have a word with the headmaster and we’ll get it sorted-“

If you hadn’t been so caught up in your own head you would’ve noticed the way he reached for you but halted his actions. It was almost like he knew you were going to be far too in your own head.

The blame and Mum-guilt that you were feeling was almost too much for you to hear what he was saying as you quickly interjected him. 

“I should’ve seen this. I should’ve noticed the signs. He’s been withdrawn, but I just thought it was cause you weren’t around and he’s been dealing with this on his own and he’s our baby-“ 

And kids were cruel and you knew that. Could be cruel to adults, but even crueler to people their own age.

“You’re right he’s our baby, so we sort this. Together.”

You swallowed audibly, trying to fight the lump in our throat as it began to close up. 

“Just like we have done before, together.”

The conviction of Harry’s delivery should’ve been enough, but considering the current landscape it was hard to not have doubts. 

“It’s not that easy,” you said around downturned lips, turning your eyes to look at him for the first time since this conversation started.

You looked at him in the dim light of your kitchen. His hair was fluffy and mussed, quite clearly one of your kids had taken to playing with it for comfort when Harry had been dealing with the bedtime routine. 

He looked tired. His face housed stubble and looked a little puffy and round, which made you wonder if the night before he’d partook in a drinking session. 

In the silence, he also admired you. The concern you felt and guilt you harboured dragged down your features, the smallest frown between your brows and stoop to your lips. Eyes sparkled from the welled up tears and the tightness of your jaw, made him realise that you were fighting to keep them at bay. 

“S’as easy as we want to make it,” he replied, knowing he needed to take some of the worry away from you. “Has he had more of these from school?” You looked at Harry, as he reached for the discarded accident report and nodded.

He caught your non-verbal response and continued. “Where’re they?”

“In the stack of papers on the dining table-“

He nodded, leaning forward to press his lips delicately to your forehead before he pushed himself away from where you stood. “Be right back.”

The rustling and rummaging happening in the other room would’ve once annoyed you, being particular about certain things, but in your almost numb-like state, you couldn’t even think about it to that amount of detail.

Not long after, Harry held two pieces of paper in his teeth as he walked back into the kitchen, making some sort of muffled noise for you take them off of him.

“S’been happening a lot hasn’t it?” He spoke, the minute the papers left his lips as you gently pulled them away. “There’s stuff here from when I was last in LA.”

“I know, I’ve been in to see them about it before but he always insisted that he was just being clumsy. And that’s not so far fetched to believe, we know what he’s like a home.”

“Yeah falls over his own two feet, don’t know where he gets it from,” he joked, eyes scanning the papers in front of him. He frowned, turning slightly to look at you, “You’ve been in to see the school without me? When?”

“Loads of times, don’t make it a big deal-“

“About this?”

You sighed, “Yes, I’ve gone in about accident reports before. S’that a problem?”

“It’s a problem you didn’t share it with me, yes.”

“You’re never here-“

He sighed agitatedly. He wasn’t going to go there again. Before he could speak, you cut in, “Sorry. Now is not the time nor the place.” 

Harry’s shrugged off your apology, knowing that it actually was the time and the place but you weren’t quite there yet in the conversation. 

Lifting another piece of paper, his eyes scanned how it detailed another incident where your son had been injured. It was quite clear that an element of bullying was taking place that needed to be resolved. 

Placing the paper to the side, Harry dropped his eyes down to the thick stack that rested upon the kitchen counter. 

His eyes scanned the page, reading so clearly the front cover of the separation agreement, seeing his name typed neatly under the descriptor of husband in block capitals. 

“‘Ave you got a pen anywhere?” He asked instantly after feeling his emotions change, he pressed his hands over his body as if he carried a pen on his person every day of the week. 

Frowning you slowly drew your eyes away from the report that you were reading and frowned. “Usually one in the miscellaneous draw next to the cutlery-“

“Thought you would’ve gotten rid of my shit draw the minute you kicked me out-“

His tone was easy and light, but the words stung both you and him as he spoke them. The ‘shit draw’ was exactly that, full to the brim of crap that you didn’t necessarily need to be kept, but you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away. You watched him walk to the draw with ease, opening it and finding a pen resting near the top after a short amount of rummaging.

“Why’d you need a pen-“

He clicked the lid so easily as he walked to you, a couple of times possibly highlighting his nerves, before he pressed it one final time.

“May as well sign this while I’m here, save on costs of you getting it posted to me.”

Your eyes widened as you saw the way he leaned down to sign next to his name. Before you could stop yourself you reached your hand forward and covered the piece of paper where he would be required to sign. 

Harry’s hand stilled, his breathing you were sure, coming to a halt. Slowly, he looked up at you from underneath his brow and somewhere within a second or two, this visual of him became blurry as your eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t-“

You watched him breath deeply feeling the way his hand cupped over the top of yours to lift it off the paper. You didn’t put up much fight, watching the way he placed your hand away from the paper and leaned down to go to sign again. Just as the pen was about to hit the paper, you reached for the top of the document and managed to snatch is out for underneath him.

He growled under his breath from your petulant but quick action, head hanging low as he pressed his hands onto the kitchen counter. “I don’t know what you want from me-“ he harshly whispered, head swiping up to look up at you, heart breaking as he saw your crumpled face.

“I don’t know what I want either. From you or from me.”

Staying rested against the kitchen counter, he let his eyes run over your small figure. The way you let your body stay facing forward, but you eyed him from the corner of your vision. Eyes weary and filled with tears as they peered at him,

“I feel so lost, H.” 

It hurt him to see the way you reached up to wipe your own tears as they fell. He was almost shocked when he saw the way you blew out a puff of air, cleaning off your face and shaking your head.

Within a split second, it was almost like you hadn’t been crying hot, messy tears a mere ten seconds before. He found himself vaguely intrigued by what he was seeing, but highly concerned at how abnormal it was that you were able to mask your emotions.

Had you always been this way? Had he missed so many signals himself when it came to you, just like you claimed you had with your son? 

He knew if he remained silent for long enough that you would fill in the silence between the two of you, and he couldn’t help but allow himself to softly smile when you took to reaching for a forkful of lasagne, to try and busy yourself from speaking.

Harry didn’t give in however, he wanted you to know that you were in control. Somehow he sensed that you needed it, even if you didn’t have any idea where to start in being given it. 

“I’m struggling-“

He slumped a little at the two words, an almighty confession from someone who was always so put together. 

“I recognise it.”

Harry breathed deeply at those next words. “That’s good,” he responded, watching you slowly look at him. “With what?” He rubbed under his nose, clearing his throat. “What are you struggling with?”

He didn’t need the clarity, he already knew but he needed to hear you say it. 

“With being a Mum. With this weird feeling that hangs over me sometimes.”

A small amount of silence, a nervous energy. 

“Right, you tell me. Talk to me.”

Fiddling with your hands, and then your shirt, he recognised how robotic you almost looked as you thought through your words. A coldness had come over you, like a thin sheet of ice waiting to crack. 

“It’s hard. I mean it wasn’t easy with the boys, was it?”

“No it was bloody ‘ard work. They were ‘ard work. Worth it, but ‘ard work.”

He saw the way you softly smiled at the ferocity of his words.

“Was it hard work?” You joked, watching him drop his face with the softest smile. Both you and he appreciated that there was humour, but knew deep down it was a deflection. 

Then it went silent. Again. 

“Gone quiet on me, doll,” he wistfully, acknowledged.

You sighed heavily, “She’s everything you ever wanted. But I can’t bond with her, I haven’t really bonded with her and-“ closed your eyes, trying to stop your trembling bottom lip. “And that makes me feel so shit as her Mum. Cause she’s number three and it should be easy. I should have this down now. I should know what her cries mean and I should be able to deal with it. Everything else comes so natural to me, even with the boys I was-“

“You were in your element.”

You nodded as you felt your face scrunch up with a fresh wave of tears, this time he was hopeful they were ones you wouldn’t fight and pretend they didn’t happen.

He let you cry, a silent cry where you buried your face into your hands and your shoulders shook lightly. 

“Promise you won’t bite my head off,” he whispered, standing closer to you and to his comforting height. 

“Depends what you’re gonna say,” you scoffed around your laugh, pulling your hands from your face that remained bowed. You saw Harry drop his head as he looked up at you with a coy smile, to try and catch your eye with his.

“I love you-“

“Harry-“

“Please darlin’,” he hummed “I love you. I do. It’s not a bad thing feeling low-“ he sighed, “But you’re so bloody stubborn. It’s okay to not always be on it, it okay to miss things or not know what someone wants or needs. Even if that someone is our baby. It’s okay to have negativity - not to harbour it but for it to be fleeting. It’s about what you do when you get to those hurdles-“

“I shouldn’t feel like that towards her. God, we wanted her so much. I even broke my two kids only rule for her,” he and you both chuckled around your tears. 

Watching the way he stared at you lovingly as your laughter died down, you dropped your eyes away from his. 

“You feel how you want to feel. Okay? Alright?” You closed your eyes, fresh tears rolling down your face. “‘M sorry for being such a shit husband, ‘m sorry darlin’, ‘m so sorry.”

“‘S not your fault I don’t talk.”

“Hard to talk to someone if they’re not around.”

You both were silent as you stood next to each other. “I think when we go for her next check up I’m going to talk to the doctor about my options.”

“That’s good,” he nodded in encouragement, “You should do that, if you feel up to it.”  

There was a small amount of silence as Harry half-smiles as you reached for another forkful of lasagna. As you chewed, you felt his eyes on you, placing the fork back into the Tupperware.

“I’ll be there too,” he paused, a slight stutter to his words. “Only if- if you need me to be.”

“Nice of you to offer,” you fidgeted with the fork, unable to look at him before mumbling. “Thank you.”

Harry, not knowing what to do with his hands, pressed his left hand gently to the back of your neck. He cupped your skin lightly feeling your body somewhat fight against his want to offer comfort. 

He didn’t force you, instead he waited for you to feel comfortable with his actions and step a bit closer to him, your body less rigid. Lips against your temple he mumbled, “You’re welcome.”

The kindness of his voice and warmth of his hand against your skin caused you to fall against him, allowing him to hold you properly for the first time in the longest time.

Harry enveloped you, sensing that you needed it, his hand rubbing up and down your clothed back with the confidence of a man who had been married to you for quite some time.

Pulling away, you looked up at him and met his gaze staring down at you. The two of you stayed silent, admiring the aging faces of each other that you both knew so well. Meeting in the middle both pairs of eyes slipped closed as you kissed, nothing provocative or sensual, the smallest pecks of comfort that felt familiar and necessary. 

You weren’t quite sure how long the two of you stayed in each other’s embrace, or how long you talked over a variety of different concerns that had been silently bubbling away for far longer than either of you would care to admit.

However, when you surfaced out of probably his fourth hold that evening, the skies outside had started to get lighter to signal the morning had broken for a new day. You felt strange, eyes puffy and tired as you pressed the heels of your palms against them. 

“Why don't you go and enjoy a nice, long shower, rather than rushing yourself?” 

“One of ‘em’ll probably come barrelling down the stairs in a bit, having woken up another one to come and tag team me with. Unfair advantage.”

“Doesn’t exist today. Dad’s home.”

Harry spoke so easily, his eyes soft and full of love. A love you found hard to stare right back at but couldn’t pull yourself away. He was gentle as he rested against the kitchen island, temple resting against the heel of his hand as he leant down. 

“Can even take a bit of a nap if you’d like? Let me do the breakfast, and the school run. Go an’ have a rest.”

He knew you were reluctant. He could see the worry forming across your brows as you continued to look at him in silence. 

“Got what? Three hours before they need to be at school? Ideal amount of time, tha’. It’ll give you a chance to nap and shower.” 

“Harry,” you sighed, in the same way you always did as you would start to unpick at how easy he was making everything seem.

He breathed deeply, standing to full height again. “I’m not asking, I’m telling,” he spoke with a jokey lilt, hands on your shoulders as he turned you to walk you out of the kitchen. 

“What happened to compromise in marriage?”

Harry chuckled, “Disappears when you’re in the middle of a divorce. Stop trying to be smart arse and go.”

You let your heavy feet drag you to the bottom of your stairs, Harry rolling his eyes behind you from your reluctance that resembled a teenager being forced into a family party. He stayed leaning against the doorframe of one of your downstairs rooms, watching as you stilled and looked up to the top of the staircase.

“What is it?”

With a smile, you turned your eyes to look at him. “Someone’s waiting for me.”

With a frown, he approached you. Hand resting against the bannister, he looked up in the same direction as you did just seconds earlier. His eyes were met with your middle son, sat at the top of the stairs almost appearing to be patiently waiting, with his chin resting against his two hands.

“Told ya,” you whispered, smile deepening.

Harry chose not to respond. “Can come down, mate,” he softly addressed your son, watching him carefully raise and descend down to you both. 

Standing three steps away from the end, your son raised his arms gently in the direction of Harry, silently asking to be picked up. Without question Harry reached for him, gently pulling him into his chest and feeling him rest against his shoulder.

He looked on at the way you watched the two of them, and when you eyes met his green ones he softly spoke. “Don’t even think about it. Go. We’ll be fine. Won’t we, eh?” He directed his question at your son, the little boy nodding.

Slowly blinking, you heard Harry once more, “He’ll drop off again, I know it.” 

Turning, you started to walk upstairs, and somehow found it in you not to turn back to check on your boys, however you weren’t far  enough to not make out Harry’s bribe to your youngest boy of chocolate Nutella pancakes for breakfast if he was insistent on being awake so early. That made you smile. 

Your bed felt blissful as you sank against it, not even bothering to remove your clothes to doze. Sleep took you quickly, and gave you the most restful slumber you’d had in the longest time. A restful slumber that wasn’t interrupted by the sound of laughter just shy of three hours long. 

Feeling fresh as you woke was rare, getting to lay in peaceful silence didn’t exist and you had come to forget what it was like to not wake up with the feel of a toddlers foot against your ribs (or even better the side of your face) having slept next to you. 

However, the panic that rolled through you was so familiar as you snapped your eyes over to the bedside clock to see that you intuition was indeed right and you were late. 

Duvet flung back you pushed yourself out of your bed and took large strides across the room. Mad dash down the stairs, you made quick  distance to the kitchen before coming to an abrupt halt at the threshold. 

A serene scene met your gaze of a father with it all under control. A baby girl against his hip, as he kept his back to your son who sat animatedly colouring one of the free drawings at the back of his favourite children’s magazine. 

Orange juice and glasses of water sat amongst the cereal boxes and bowls. A warm, buttery and sweet smell flowed through the air as you saw Harry move around the kitchen that the two you had done all and sundry in. 

“Remember what Daddy said, ‘s hot so no touching. Hands in,” Harry kept his voice calm as he began to turn. “Good girl. Mate, which toppings do you want?” 

“Chocolate drops,” he replied, eyes still concentrated on the page. You looked away from him just in time to catch Harry’s gaze. 

“What will Mommy say about chocolate on a school day?” The question clearly directed towards you. 

Staying silent, you shook your head and raised you hand slightly at him to let him know it was fine. 

Pancakes set in front of your growing boy, you smiled as you watched the way he quickly reached for his fork, the silver cutlery spearing though the golden goodness.

“Steady on mate, let me add the toppings. Uniforms after this,” Harry chuckled, looking at you again as you stayed fixed to the spot. “Fancy a cuppa?”

Part of you found this hard to process, as you stepped inside the kitchen to the perfect family life. He had it all in hand. No angry snapping at anyone to sit still at the table and eat, no constant reminders to get coats and shoes on (sometimes up to ten repetitions that ended up with a grizzly child sitting at the bottom of the stairs with shoes being forced abruptly onto feet). 

Yet for the first time in a while, there wasn’t envy. There was gratefulness. Lots of it. That had to be progress. 

You sank against the island counter as Harry placed your daughter between the two of you. She sat mesmerised by the toy kitchen tools of a wooden spoon and mixing bowl on her lap.

Harry said something about her helping him, as she slowly mixed nothing but thin air in her bowl but proceeded to lift whatever it was she was “making” on her spoon to Harry’s lips.

“Mommy try,” she turned the spoon to you, big blue eyes filled with innocence but intrigue to see your reaction. Of course you played along, never as animated as Harry but enough for her to giggle and snatch the spoon away into her little torso.

Harry yawned loudly next to you, your daughter falling against you chest to cuddle as you took to trying to smooth her unruly bed head. 

“Mum said she’d come around to take care of sleeping beauty upstairs while we take care of the school run,” Harry commented, rubbing at his eyes and pushing his hair from his face. 

“We?” You questioned, side-eyeing him. “Think I’m letting you behind the wheel in this state.”

“Nothing wrong wi’me, ‘m alrigh’,” he yawned, barely eligible. You stared at him silently, eyebrows slowly raising to emphasise your point. “Alright, fine.”

After a small amount of silence he added, meekly, “Any room for an extra passenger?”

“Yeah, think I have a spare booster seat in the boot.” 

You watched the wry smile pull onto Harry’s lips as he fiddled around with the pancake pan that sat waiting to be washed. The silence was broken when your middle boy declared he was “finished mummy!”, not so politely wiping a lot of his chocolate stained lips against the red sleeve of his pyjamas.

Then came the military operation of getting ready for school. Making up bookbags and remembering the water from the fridge to sit inside the lunch box. Trying to locate the matching grey sock that was part of the school uniform and in the end deciding to take the hit with a passive aggressive text you’d receive from the school later that afternoon about how you’d sent one of your children in wearing socks that weren’t part of the school regalia. 

As you ushered your daughter out, seeing her little legs still a bit unstable in her t-bar black patent school shoes, you paused on your doorstep.

Anne stood next to Harry, engaged in a conversation that had the two of them looking at you as you shut the front door behind you. 

Your brain was telling you to smile, but somehow you knew it looked like a grimace as you walked across your drive and busied yourself in buckling in you little girl as to not be stood uneasily next to your mother-in-law.

“Thank you for agreeing to babysit him while we go in to the school,” you said, looking between Harry and Anne. Her eyes were warm as she felt the way you overcompensated. 

“He won’t be an ounce of trouble,” she reassured you. “He never is. All three of them aren’t. Harry said you’ll probably be a bit longer than usual, something about needing to speak to the headmaster.”

“Mum,” Harry started.

“Harry, I’m not being nosy. I’m genuinely concerned for my first grand baby. It’s allowed.”

 “We’re going to be late,” he chuckled. “We’ll fill you in when we get back. Make sure you put t’kettle on.” 

“Know when I’m not wanted,” Anne joked, seeing the way Harry manoeuvred his son to walk around the other side of the car. 

He disappeared out of sight, leaving both you and Anne blinking at each other. Clearing your throat, you told your daughter to say hello, watching the way she silently waved at Nana Anne.

“Woman of very little words in the morning, at least she takes after me for something.”

You cringed at your attempt to joke, seeing the small smile on Anne’s lips. As you shut the door for the car, she reached for your arm. Hand resting carefully against the sleeve of your coat. 

“Everything will sort itself out,” she held your eyes. “It always finds its way.” 

A heavy weight left you as she squeezed your forearm. “If not there’ll be a hot toddy waiting here for you when you get back.”

Her eyes twinkled at you, cause the smallest laugh to bubble against your lips. 

“What are you two conspiring about over there with that laughter?”

“Never you mind, Harry Styles. Just like your father, getting involved when you feel left out-“

When you looked over at Harry the softness of his features from the display in front of him made warmth ooze its way through you, enough to take the edge off the October cold.

What were you doing divorcing this man? 

“Ready?” He hummed, as his mother walked the short distance to the front door and inside.

“Just give me five, will you? Start the car to take the chill off. I shouldn’t be too long.”

As the door shut behind you with a louder bang than you wanted, Anne popped her head around the door frame of your kitchen. Yellow marigolds on her hands, you softly smiled at how she’d taken to washing up the breakfast dishes the old fashioned way even before you’d left the driveway.

“Forgotten something?”

You shook your head, pushing away from the door and sliding around her in the doorway. “No, I’m just doing something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

She stayed silent behind you as she watched the way you reached across the kitchen island and grabbed at the stack of papers. Finding the brown envelope with ease, you pulled out the white papers title with your names and reason for filing typed across them. 

Pushing them back in the envelope, you turned on your heel back to the entrance of you house. Anne wore a light frown causing you to feel the need to help ease her confusion, “It’s bin day for the recycling,” you started, watching the way her face relaxed.

She smiled when you started to laugh under your breath, and took a step forward. Gently fingering at your necklace and the rings that sat against the chain, she spoke softly, “Might be needing these.”

Although you hadn’t been wearing them didn’t mean that you hadn’t kept them with you all this time.

“Let’s hope they still fit,” you quipped. “Would you mind getting the clasp?”

Turning, Anne quickly made light work of the jewellery, taking the delicate chain and collecting in the palm of her hand before handing over your rings. She silently looked on as you pushed both your engagement ring and wedding ring back onto your third finger.

You closed your palm and then stretched out your fingers a couple of times, fiddling with the diamond to set it in the middle of your wedding band.

“Feel good?”

You hummed, “Feels right.” 

She didn’t say anything else to you after. Instead she let you breeze passed her and out to the car. You headed to the recycling bin, slipping the brown envelope inside and letting the bin lid bash shut.

Harry wore a slight frown, looking so similar to his mother just moments earlier. He started to open his mouth as you jumped into the drivers side, questioning what you were doing, until his eyes dropped down to your hand against the steering wheel. 

His questions answered. 

Without a word, other than a shy smile on your lips, you put the car into reverse feeling ready to put on a united front and face whatever was next.

Together. As husband and wife. 

[welllpthisishappening]

On This Night and in This Light (3/3)

Emma Swan knows she’s pretty good at what she does.

Helping the magically afflicted and affected find jobs in this realm isn’t the most glamorous thing in the world, and, sure, there’s a lot of paperwork, but she figures she’s helping people and that’s the important thing. It’s structured. Calm, even.

Until. It’s always until.

Killian Jones shows up with his stupid smirk and his tendency to lean against the door frame in Emma’s office and his distinct lack of magic. Or knowledge of what they’re really doing at Mills Personnel. Everything kind of goes off the rails after that.

—-

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 6.5K of magic and eventual happily ever after

AN: There’s some magic here. Some kissing. Some curses. And happily ever after, of course. Thanks for reading along with this little distraction from the legitimate stress of the real world. You guys are all an absolute delight.  

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll || Or start from the top

—-

“Are you good?” Tilting her head up to meet Killian’s vaguely crinkled forehead and passably confused expression, Emma almost regrets the question she didn’t plan on asking. That’s the problem with him. And them, at least in the abstract sense. 

Words tumble out of her without much thought to their meaning or collective, if not slightly metaphorical, weight. Defenses she’s spent a lifetime cultivating feel as if they’ve crumbled at her feet, which is impressive since she’s laying down, but the metaphor still checks out and Emma keeps asking questions. 

Without being wholly afraid of the answers she’ll get. 

“Be more specific,” Killian murmurs, and her heart does something stupid. Skips a beat. Sparks her magic. Threatens to leave her glowing in the tangle of sheets she’s absolutely stolen in the middle of the night. 

“Just—I mean with everything.” Nosing at her cheek, Emma can practically hear Killian’s smile. “‘Fraid that’s not any more specific, my love. But if we’re going to speak in the abstract before coffee—” “—Oh, we should make coffee.” He kisses her cheek, that time. “Then I am exceptionally good.” “Pretty vast adverb.”

“Well, you asked a very broad question. But I stand by my answer, particularly when you’re not wearing any clothing. Why, am I giving off not-good vibes?” “Maybe lame ones if you keep using the word vibe in actual conversation. I just—I don’t know, wanted to make sure, I guess. Working for Mills isn’t exactly the height of luxury and it can be a weird place, and I...we never really looked at apartments for you, because we can do that if you want to, but—” Stumbling over the words, Emma wishes her hands were free. She’d like to wave them around. Use them as a distraction to whatever has settled on her face and in the pit of her stomach, and this wasn’t really the plan. Granted, the plan occurred while she was overly exhausted and reeling a bit from rather large emotional realizations, but telling him the truth about absolutely everything is suddenly a bit more daunting in the light of day. 

And they haven’t even had coffee yet. 

Killian’s hand moves. Faster than Emma’s entirely ready for, his fingers brush a strand of wayward hair away from her eyes and then he’s kissing the bridge of her nose and pulling her against his chest and—

“This was not my plan. In some great expectation for my life, I’m not sure I could have ever imagined this is what it’d be like. But,” Killian adds, as soon as Emma’s magic shifts into something far closer to dread, “if all of this ended with your freakishly cold feet waking me up every morning, then I can’t be very upset about it.”

Swooning pre-coffee can’t be advisable. Emma’s heart doesn’t care. It flips and flops and does that possible explosion thing again, and she’s a little concerned the force of her smile will have adverse effects on the paint in her bedroom. 

“You don’t think Mills is weird?” “Do you?” Emma shakes her head. “Nah, no questions for questions. This is—” “—An inquiry?” Her shoulders slump. Under the blankets, and she’s really got a shit ton of blankets. “I don’t know, Swan. Mills is...a place, a job. One where you work, and that’s mostly why I’m interested in continuing to work there. Should I not be thinking that?” The last few words come with a bit of understandable concern and maybe a hint of frustration, and she should have said something earlier. 

It’s very frustrating to realize how much smarter the part-time cricket is than Emma.

She hopes he’s enjoying his job, too. 

“My feet aren’t really that cold.”

Killian scoffs. “I promise, they are like little ice cubes attached to your legs.” “Lucky you’re here to provide external heat, then.” 

Burrowing her face closer to the crook of his neck, Emma gives herself a moment to relish in that warmth, like he’s some sort of personal sun or a battery or another bit of science she doesn’t understand and David always likes to say that science is just explained magic. Emma wonders if it works the other way, too. 

Magic is something that simply hasn’t been explained yet. No rational reasoning, or anything except the kind of gut feeling that can change everything. 

“I am,” Killian says, and it probably isn’t meant to sound like a promise. “Are you good?” Dots of light appear behind Emma’s eyelids every time she blinks, trying to come up with an answer that won’t send him running and she doesn’t know what she’ll do if he runs. Energy prickles at the tips of her fingers, curling around either one of her wrists and lingering in the slight bend of her left elbow because at some point her left palm has flattened itself against Killian’s stomach. “Mills can be kind of weird,” Emma mutters, trying to pick her words more carefully now. “And that’s...there’s a reason for that, and a reason I started working there and—” A phone starts vibrating. 

Loudly enough that it also immediately falls from the nightstand it was charging on, and keeps buzzing around on the floor. Killian sighs. 

“Hold that thought.”

Emma wishes she could. But her hands are already back underneath the blankets, and she’s all too aware of how bright they’ve gone in the last few seconds and the state of Killian’s shoulders make it obvious he’s not all that pleased with whatever he’s being told. “Yeah, yeah, I can—I mean, it’s like twenty blocks the wrong way, but—God, yes, Scarlet. I can come back for a few minutes.”

He doesn’t bother to plug the phone back in, and for like a solid half second Emma gets distracted by the lack of clothes before her eyes fly up and Killian’s sighing again and the weight in the pit of her stomach grows. 

“Coffee later?” Emma blinks. “Sure. Is everything ok?” “No idea, just that Scarlet said he had to talk to me and it couldn’t wait and—” Killian shrugs, fingers finding the back of his neck. “I probably won’t be that late, but if Regina asks—” “—I’ll tell her.” Something tugs at the back of her mind, a warning Emma can’t place, but she can sense a lie with almost startling accuracy and she knows Killian isn’t lying to her. She just can’t figure out why Will would lie to him. 

Halloween’s not her favorite day. 

People assume all magical and mythical creatures thrive on this one day of the year, but more often than not Emma finds that it’s just another busy day when those same magical and mythical creatures come out of the metaphorical woodwork in droves to get jobs. And sure, some of the rumors are true. There are certain times when the fabric between realms can be a bit more flimsy than usual. Both midnights, for example. Eleven-eleven’s another big one. So, teenage girls had that one right, at least. 

And yeah, ok, Halloween also means Regina bakes half a dozen apple pies for the whole office, but when the whole office is already overrun by inquiring applicants, Emma can’t find it in herself to be very excited for a dessert she only kind of likes. 

She’d never admit that to Regina. 

Self-preservation instincts, and all that. 

Plus, days like this are always cold. Fraught with that certain nip in the air, and leaves that crunch under Emma’s boots. Only to also get stuck to the bottom of Emma’s boots, and she has to twist her wrist to get rid of her leaf-based trail on her way to her paperwork-covered desk. 

The same one David’s leaning against. 

“You tell him yet?”

She missed one leaf. Figures. Emma never even went trick-or-treating as a kid. Halloween’s a sham. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.” “Sure you don’t. It’s dumb that you haven’t yet.” “Voice your opinion a little louder, please.” “Nothing is going to happen,” David says, but Emma barely hears over the sound of sudden and complete disagreement that scratches its way from the depths of her soul. Maybe Halloween makes her a little maudlin, actually. She can’t believe she didn’t get to tell him. “It hasn’t yet.” “Why are you jinxing things like that?” “There is no such thing as jinx, and c’mon, if you guys can get through today with a hundred magically unemployed people, then sky’s the limit.” “Not even clever.” David shakes his head. “You’re impressed and swayed, I know it. Plus it’s not like you’re a bad witch or anything.” “I’m sorry, a bad witch?” “Yeah, you know. None of your intentions, even when lying to the guy you’re stupid into—” “—Opinions keep coming fast and furious, don’t they?” “Because he’s right,” Ruby calls, twisting around desks to involve herself in a conversation Emma doesn’t want to participate in anymore. “You really didn’t tell him yet? That’s nuts. And you’re a good person, Em. With a very good looking face. Who wouldn’t want to make out with that? Ad nauseum.” “I’m going to be honest, using a word that sounds like nauseous isn’t helping your case much,” Emma says. “And I’m going to tell him. I am, just—things got crazy this morning.” Ruby howls. With laughter. Drawing more than a few curious stares, and rather pointed glare from Regina’s direction. David pales noticeably. “Did they?” Ruby presses. “How crazy are we talking and was it also vaguely acrobatic, because I feel like Jones could move if he had to, but that’s strictly theorizing on my part, so—” Sentences without end are quickly becoming Emma’s least favorite thing. Only slightly edging out ringing phones. The one on her desk lights up, which doesn’t happen very often, but she can’t imagine the light is supposed to be green. 

David’s talking. She’s dimly aware of it — the soft hum that sounds more like Charlie Brown’s teacher than any of the human characteristics Emma is certain they both have, and that’s another quasi-Halloween reference. Rocks appear to have landed rather forcefully in her stomach, and that’s what she gets for optimism. 

“Swan,” Killian breathes, as soon as she pulls the phone to her ear. “Swan, Emma listen to me, you can’t—” Seriously, the lack of sentence structure is becoming intolerable. Killian grunts, the sound turning into a gasp almost immediately and a few shouted no, no, no leave them alone and Emma doesn’t remember standing. 

Only that she’s knocked her chair over in the process. 

“Is this Ms. Swan?” a new voice Emma almost recognizes asks. “Because it seems I’ve got something of yours, while you have something I’m particularly interested in. Let’s make a little exchange, shall we?”

It’s disappointing that her mouth goes dry. Emma assumes that’s because she’s all but panting, bent awkwardly over her desk while her eyes scan the room for something or someone and—it clicks. The voice. 

“Zelena. This is Zelena, isn't it?” Both David and Ruby make matching noises of disbelief, but the buzzing is back and Regina is moving and the line’s gone dead anyway. “She’s not supposed to be here,” Regina says with enough calm that it grates on every single one of Emma’s already-fraying nerves, “magical control sent her back to Oz.” Emma can’t cope with this. Any of it. All she wanted was to drink coffee with her decidedly human and very normal, if not ridiculously attractive boyfriend and they’ve never actually used relationship qualifiers. 

That’s disappointing. 

“Right, right, yeah, ok, of course” Emma mumbles, and she doesn’t bother to fix her chair. “Happy fucking Halloween, I guess.”

It takes her all of five minutes and one person dressed in costume to realize that running is absolutely and completely pointless. 

Emma’s a goddamn witch.

And it’s raining. 

Drops slide down her temples, drip down the back of her neck and work under her jacket because she never even got the chance to take her jacket off. Which is something of an exceptionally small miracle now, but she’s already cold and she’s always so fucking cold and—

He called her Emma. 

He called her—

“My love,” she whispers, entirely to herself and that part isn’t really true. Shadows hover just outside the edge of her vision, what Emma knows are her friends waiting for instructions or a plan, and she’s got to come up with a plan and she doesn’t know where Belle and Will live. 

She doesn’t have to. 

Reaching her hand back, Emma’s fingers lace through Regina’s, and her soft instruction of “all instinctual,” doesn’t get lost in the hum of the city or the bustle of a holiday that requires masks and chocolate-based gluttony. It takes root. In Emma’s mind, and those same pieces of her soul, finds the tiny bits of space between her stomach rocks and spreads out from there. 

Warming her from the inside out. 

She closes her eyes. 

“What the fucking fuck?” Will shouts, Emma’s feet slamming into hardwood floor that was probably highlighted in this apartment listing. Eyes bugging, he’s plastered to the wall opposite her, and Emma’s pleasantly surprised to find he’s not gagged, but she also kind of figures it’s because Belle is and there’s something inherently villainous about allowing the love interest to make noise while their partner is being tortured. 

By a woman wearing a pointed witch’s hat. “Kind of cliché, isn’t it?” Ruby muses, and Emma’s not surprised they’ve started their rescue mission with sarcasm. She also can’t respond. Her eyes are too busy trying to take in the scene. 

Stacks of books litter the floor, half the living room furniture on its side as if it’s been knocked over in a fit of inevitably-magical rage, and Belle doesn’t look as scared as annoyed that she’s been bound in one of the few upright chairs. Emma’s heart stutters. Catching her breath is impossible, head on a swivel as she tries to find—

“Killian,” she exhales, and he’s not gagged either. No visible restraints keep him a few feet away from Will, but Emma can feel the magic rippling off him and it smells strongly of bitter lemons. Or expired key lime pie. 

Neither of those things are inherently Halloween, or all that magical. But then Zelena’s turning slowly and the green splotches on her face ensure any attempts at passably funny metaphors or desperate attempts to maintain her sense of reality disappear. 

“Huh,” David says, “that’s new, actually. We ever see anyone change color before?”

Regina clicks her tongue. “She’s not changing color. She’s giving in.” “To what, exactly?” “Jealousy. Isn’t that right, Zelena? Been the crux of the problem forever, hasn’t it?”

Emma’s head is spinning. She’s not moving. “Wait, wait, what the fuck is going on?” One side of Killian’s mouth tugs up, amusement in his gaze and that can’t possibly be right. “You are stuck to the wall, idiot!’ “Oh, Swan, you do know how to flatter a man.” “What is happening?” He can’t shrug, but Emma knows he tries and that should not be as charming as it is. Mary Margaret squeezes her hand. The one that’s almost neon. “Turns out Scarlet didn’t actually want to talk to me this morning. We definitely could have had coffee.” “Is that a euphemism for—” Ruby starts, only to snap her jaw closed when Regina gapes at her. Emma’s starting to lose feeling in her fingers. 

And she sees the exact moment any sense of teasing and entirely false bravado leaves Killian. Lips going thin, his shoulders still don’t move, but Emma swears his fear reverberates through her and that’s not the emotion she was interested in sharing that morning. “You’ve got to get out of here, love. Now, it’s—” Zelena’s hand moves so quickly, it’s not much more than a passably-green blur. Nothing else comes out of Killian’s mouth. His jaw moves, working against a shield none of them can see, and Emma’s stomach is somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. 

Even with all those rocks. 

“How did you get back here?” Regina asks, stepping towards the front of their ragtag group. Fire bursts from her hands, flames that flicker up her forearms and draw another grunt out of Will. Whether it’s surprise or just the generic sound of being impressed, Emma’s not sure. 

Bits of green cling to the end of Zelena’s mouth when she smiles. “Shall I start at the beginning, then?” “God yes, please,” Emma sighs. 

Zelena doesn’t take her hat off. Really, she’s almost making it work for her. As far as costumes go, this one’s kind of basic, but there’s no cape or a broomstick and Emma’s never met a witch who was interested in flying a broom anywhere. 

“Wanted to stay conspicuous, you understand,” Zelena says, “Draw too much attention to myself and—ah, well, that’s not what’s important now.” “What?” “Why you, Emma Swan. Obviously.” “This isn’t the beginning,” David mumbles, and both Emma and Regina shift before Zelena can so much as lift her chin. One of the windows on a different wall flies open, half a dozen pigeons descending on the living room and nipping at the ends of Zelena’s hair. They pull on the sides of her dress and peck at the green spots that are growing on her cheeks. 

Whistling, Mary Margaret jerks her head and the pigeons fly away, looking a little like an avian synchronized swimming team. “Leave him alone.”

“Shit,” Ruby says, “that was impressive and aggressive. Ignore the rhyme.”

Emma tilts her head. “Slant rhyme, right? Can’t rhyme matching sounds.” Someone makes a noise — it comes from the general direction of Killian and Will, but it can’t be Killian and Emma wants it to be him anyway. Zelena doesn’t look very impressed with any of them. That’s fair, it’s probably frustrating to have your monologue interrupted so often. 

“If you don’t mind,” she sneers, Emma waving her free hand like she’s capable of giving the bad guy permission to keep talking. “It had been quite some time since I’d been in this realm, and plenty of things had changed. More magic, a certain kind of power that hung in the air. Energy that could change the course of everything, strong enough that it could probably rewrite time itself if it wanted to. And I want it to.” “To what?” “Were you not listening? Rewrite time.”

Breathing out of her mouth is not attractive. It’s loud and makes Emma’s tongue feel larger than it actually is, especially when she has to keep using it to lick her lips. “That’s—that’s insane. You’re insane. You didn’t just want to get a normal job? I mean...you were at Mills. I saw you.” “Power of the Universe at my fingertips and you think I’d be satisfied with a normal job? No wonder you have no idea what you are. Which,” Zelena glances meaningfully at Killian, “means you, Emma Swan, are the reason I’m here.” “Speak English!” Zelena huffs. “I am. What I felt when I returned to this realm? It was you, my dear. Your power, your magic, your ability. And, yes, I could have given into the hum-drum existence of this place and the structure of Mills Personnel, but where exactly is the fun in that?”

Emma hopes she’s not expected to answer. She doesn’t have one. It’s entirely possible she’s going to snap several of Mary Margaret’s fingers in half. 

“Anyway,” Zelena continues, “locating that power wasn’t easy, but Regina Mills’ ability to make things happen is legendary. Finding a person’s niche, that’s her greatest talent. And so I did come to Mills, looking for a position that would help me get the rest of the requirements.”

Ruby keeps shaking her head. Emma can’t seem to move. Or breathe. Her eyes keep darting back towards Killian, trying to make sure he’s breathing or reacting in a way that doesn’t threaten to make her cry. Nothing. 

He’s plastered to a wall with magic, of course not. 

“You see, a time spell is one of the more complex out there. Need all sorts of things in addition to the kind of magic that can fuel it. Which is what I wanted when I got to Mills. Hoped I could get placed in a hospital or something of the sort.”

On the increasingly small scale of things that surprise Emma, that somehow makes the cut. “You need, like, an IV drip or something?” “A baby,” Zelena replies easily, and Belle whimpers against the gag. “Pure of spirit, you understand. Other things too. Courage, wisdom, maybe a heart if I could get lucky—” “—An actual heart?” Will balks. “Spend a lot of time in Wonderland, did ya?” “I mean, she could probably get the heart in the hospital too if she wasn’t picky about her choices,” Ruby reasons, and this whole thing is absurd. Maybe that’s the theme for Halloween as a whole, though. 

More of Zelena’s face is green. 

“I had hoped I’d get someone competent who could help me. Or even the source of the power. Naturally,” she jerks her head in Killian’s direction, “I ended up with this sot. Who suggested working at a clinic or agreeing to something called an orderly position. Well, I knew he wouldn’t help me, but I did get something out of it. I knew you were there, Emma. And—” Zelena’s eyes rove towards Belle, and the hands collapsed over the front of her stomach. Realization crashes over Emma in waves, the rocks disappearing only to be replaced with a bone-deep chill that douses any bit of light in her. “So I do have a few options for you all now.” “What are you trying to fix?” “Hmm?” “Fix,” Emma repeats, “or change, I guess. I mean—that’s not how life works.” Zelena hums in what can only be passing interest and something almost like an agreement. “Seems unnecessary to tell you my whole plan, but when it works it won’t make much of a difference. I want to get rid of the girl. That nasty little thing that fell in Oz and ruined everything. Robbed me of my chance to prove myself, claimed there had to be good witches and bad witches and you’re absolutely right, Ms. Swan. That’s not how life works. Nothing is quite so cut and dry as all that.”

Words hang off the tip of her disgustingly dry tongue. Want to be said and proclaimed, and for all the mistakes Emma has made — good and bad, right and wrong, trusting and the opposite, she’s happy to find she’s not particularly interested in changing them. 

Not if she ends up here. 

Well, maybe not here—with her boyfriend, they’ll get to that eventually, magically silenced and Belle doing her best to glare daggers at the half-green witch who commandeered her living room, and Ruby’s teeth are definitely getting longer. But maybe here-adjacent. With people who care about her, who followed her without question or thought and the guy who is still somehow staring at Emma like he’s got every intention of keeping her feet warm. 

Ad nauseum. 

“I’m not really interested in anything you need.”

Disappointment flashes across Zelena’s face, only to immediately morph into something much closer to fury. “Hero types, always so sanctimonious. That’s why I said several options. It’s one now, but—” Flicking her wrist, Killian slides down the wall in what Emma knows isn’t actually slow motion. Still, the amount of time it takes for his knees to crash to the ground seems to last forever and Zelena doesn’t try to stop Emma from rushing forward. 

Eventually, she’ll realize why. 

“Regina discovered what I was trying to do,” Zelena explains, “my fault. Kept coming back to Mills, demanding better placement and as much as it pains me to admit she’s smart...well, she sent me back to Oz.” “So how are you here?” Mary Margaret demands.

Emma doesn’t need that answer, either. Halloween is a bullshit, overrated holiday. Pulling Killian close to her, he’s far too limp and impossibly silent, and Emma barely spends a moment thinking about either of those things before she’s kissing anywhere she can reach, mumbling apologies and half-explanations into his skin and—

“Ah, I’d be careful if I were you,” Zelena says, a soft lilt to her voice that rattles down Emma’s spine. “See, your option is to give me your magic, Ms. Swan. If you won’t do it willingly, I’ll take it by force.” “I don’t—” 

Movement catches Emma’s attention, the soft flutter of fingers across her back and she has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. At first. All it takes is a few seconds, and that’s probably another sign. She hopes so. Tracing letters on her jacket, Killian’s eyes flutter shut like he’s exhausted and determined not to sleep and— “No,” Emma exhales, but Zelena’s smile looks victorious. It’s too late. They’re too late. And there’s nothing they can do to change that. 

Slumping against her, Killian’s eyes don’t open again. His breathing evens out, and Emma supposes that’s something of a very twisted victory because he isn’t dead, but he’s even more obviously sleeping and sleeping curses are notoriously hard to break.

“Especially when they so often require a kiss,” Zelena grins. “True Love, and all that. So let me ask, Ms. Swan. Do you think what you and the plebe have is True Love and, more importantly, will you be willing to sacrifice your magic for it? Because the only way he’s waking up is with a kiss and the next time you kiss him, you’ll lose your magic.”

To suggest that it kind of all goes to shit after that is something of an understatement. 

Light pours out of Emma, unsteady legs under her even as she juts her chin out. To her credit Zelena doesn’t back down. She stands there and she turns a bit more green, and magic is so goddamn weird. Emma’s also never been in a magic fight before. 

Spending so long hiding that part of her — certain it was going to be the reason everyone left, the opportunity never really presented itself. Fighting for the sanctity of time itself and Killian’s consciousness seems as good a reason as any to flip the script, so to speak. 

Heat races through Emma, wind swirling at her ankles as frames clatter to the ground. Shards of glass fly on the manufactured breeze, Mary Margaret darting towards Belle and David sprinting towards Will, and it’s something of a confidence boost when they’re both able to pull them away from the battle. 

Although Emma can’t really believe she thought the word battle, even in her head. 

“Not exactly the magical dominance you were bragging about, huh?” Emma quips, twirling a finger in the air. Bands of light circle Zelena’s calves, twist up her legs and turn her answering laugh into a gasp that also does dangerous things to Emma’s ego. 

“I never—” Zelena grunts, twisting against bonds that don’t even flicker. “—You were the powerful one, I thought I made that blatantly obvious.” “I mean,” David shrugs. 

Ruby nods. “She did kind of, Em. That’s true.” “Whose side are you on?” Emma snaps, but the retreat back to absurd is almost comforting in a familiar, banter-filled sort of way. 

“Please,” Regina sighs. Her hands are on fire. “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, and I know you claimed you didn’t have to tell Killian the truth before.” “Yeah, well, cat’s pretty much out of the bag on that front, don’t you think?” “Flew out on pigeon’s wings, I think.”

Laughter has no place in a moment when Zelena’s entire face has turned green, and her own fireballs are threatening at her palms, but Emma can’t help herself and maybe the dumbest thing she’s ever done was suggest Killian shouldn’t have worked at Mills. Or that she couldn’t be head over heels in love with him. 

That helps, honestly. 

“You’re not getting my magic,” Emma announces, all too sure she sounds as ridiculous as she feels. Heroic soliloquies are also overrated, it seems. “And you’re not getting Killian or—God, were we actually talking about Dorothy that whole time?” Zelena snarls. That must be the response. 

“Well, you’re not getting her either. Sneaking back here on Halloween was dumb. Trying any of this was ridiculous and threatening Killian was the worst of all your ideas. Because—” Emma takes a step forward. Nothing shakes. If anything her knees almost lock out, the hair falling over her shoulders noticeably brighter than usual and Zelena recoils. Seriously, her confidence is through the roof. “Magical job placement might be boring, and it might have a shit ton of paperwork, but it’s also a chance to help people and that’s...that’s the point, isn’t it? Finding that sense of belonging? Giving a person a chance. Being able to—” “—Fall in love,” Mary Margaret cries, scrunching her nose when Regina and Ruby shush her. “I mean…that’s what it is, isn’t it? Love’s not a weapon. It makes Emma glow.” And that makes Emma curse. “Maybe we phrase it differently?”

“Maybe we worry about language once we actually defeat the witch, huh?” Regina challenges, and that seems like a legitimate plan. 

Balls of fire fly through the air. Ricochet off Emma’s lights, and every window flies open as Mary Margaret calls upon not only pigeons but what look like several sparrows and a few nightingales if the sounds they’re making is any indication. Leaves swirl around the room, partially from the actual wind and also from whatever Emma is apparently capable of. 

A lot more than she thought, honestly. 

Warmth rises in her spine, sets her shoulders in a straight and determined line and she gives Will an appreciative smile when he pulls Killian out of the fray. Only to immediately jump back in, ducking and twisting and there’s a lot more cardio involved than she thought, but then a flash of magic nearly singes her ear and Emma’s thankful for her own agility.

She moves. Refuses to back down, ignoring the growing ache in her muscles and the weird popping thing her hip is doing. And Zelena starts to cower. In an especially villain-type of way.

Backing into the nearest wall, she stumbles over her feet as light tightens around her. It pins her arms to her side, curls around her ankles and guarantees she can’t run away when Emma stalks forward. 

With a smile on her face. 

Oz authorities appear at eleven-eleven, which seems to suggest it is somehow still morning and Emma cannot rationalize that at all. 

They thank Emma for containing the fugitive, nod towards Regina and well—that’s that. Leaving the rest of them in a slightly singed apartment with pillows that somehow haven’t burst, and what feels like a distinct lack of oxygen. 

“So,” Will drawls, “what do we do now?” He doesn’t have to look at Killian. The still-sleeping form is the far-more-attractive-than-an-elephant elephant in the room, draped across a couch that David had to lift on his own. One of his feet is hanging over the side. “True Love’s Kiss isn’t a real thing,” Emma whispers, but the words taste like ash on her tongue and Regina makes a very obnoxious noise. 

“Dumb, dumb, dumb.” “Do you think I’ll lose my magic?” “Do you actually care?” Shaking her head, Emma doesn’t bother saying the words. Not when she knows they’re so obviously painted on her face and sudden realization is almost as annoying as not ending sentences. She knows what he was tracing on her back. 

Maybe she is the idiot, actually. 

And for a moment, Emma’s mind falters. Remembers that other moment, standing frozen as a different set of lights threatened to blind her and metal snapped around her wrists and she’d been so certain then. Never again. Nothing else would get through the defenses. No one else would know. No more mistakes. 

This isn’t a mistake. 

Careful to avoid the glass on the floor, Emma tiptoes forward and crouches next to Killian. She brushes her fingers over that scar on his cheek, the ends of lips that are somehow still tilted up into half a smirk and—

“God, just do it already,” Belle shouts. 

That’s that, again. 

Kissing at this angle isn’t particularly easy, and Emma’s knees aren’t particularly pleased with the amount of pressure she’s putting on them, but it does allow her to basically drape herself across Killian and that also makes it easier to get her hand under the hem of his shirt. And nothing else really happens. 

No sharp inhale. No tilt of his head. Absolutely no sign of his tongue, which Emma has come to find herself almost obsessed with in the last few months. She doesn’t care. Doesn’t allow herself to stop, not when there’s a flicker of hope and all that want simmering between her ribs, mixing with her magic and how ridiculously in love she is and it’s annoying that she’s the one who gasps. 

As soon as arms circle her waist. 

Emma can’t really tumble when she’s above him, but the edge of the couch digs into her thighs and Killian’s doing an admirable job of trying to get her parallel to the rest of his body. Her fingers find his hair when he arches up, his own hand roving the expanse of her back before his arm curls tightly around her like he’s trying to make sure she’s still there. Leaning into her palm against his chin, Killian’s lips drag across the back of Emma’s wrist, sparking another round of magic and even more glowing. “Oh shit,” Emma mumbles, not able to pull herself away from Killian. Because of his arm. And...other reasons. 

“Was that a response to me, or—” “—No, no, I just—well, there’s still magic. I’ve still got magic. And, uh, I’m a witch.” He laughs. Throws his head back and lets his body shake under her, which really isn’t helping Emma’s state of mind at all, but she’s admittedly preoccupied with the overall volume of the laugh and how wide his smile is. “Swan, Emma love, did you honestly think I didn’t know?”

She—

Has absolutely no idea what to do with that. 

Ruby might fall over. Regina’s eyes bug, Mary Margaret using David to stay upright, Belle covers her mouth with her hand, Will cackling loud enough for the both of them. 

“Did you,” Emma starts, but Belle and Will shake their heads and Killian’s tongue click is awfully put-upon for a guy who was just cursed. 

He taps on her jaw until she’s able to look at him. And his stupid blue eyes. “I could feel it, love. Also you have a tendency to...glow. Which I'm assuming is a compliment, for me. Or us. There's an us, right?" She nods. Can't do much else. "And you’re not very subtle. Extra cinnamon in the cabinets, moving the remote so I don’t have to look for it. Working at a job placement agency that helps the magically afflicted. Plus there was paperwork. Was Freddie really a gold statue at one point?” “Yeah, but they un-statue’ed him with water from Lake Nostos. Not True Love’s Kiss.” “So we won, then?” “Competitive weirdo.” “Absolutely,” Killian nods. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I figured you’d get around to it at some point and then you were talking today and—” “—We’re not such shitty friends that we’d demand Killian show up back here before nine,” Will reasons. “Plus, it’s been kind of nice to have a free couch.”

Killian gags. “Did I say congratulations yet?” “We were busy.” “Wait, wait,” Emma sputters, and she’s going to go into cardiac arrest. Or magic overload. “So this whole time. You knew.” “Well, not the whole time,” Killian objects. “Most of it though, yeah.” “But you’re still here.” “Where else did you expect me to go? Aside from your apartment now that we’ve defeated the wicked witch? I’m assuming we defeated the wicked witch.” Emma nods. “Well, then I’ll apologize for drawing you into that, too. She was half the reason I started to suspect anything, honestly. Told Regina about her and the last thing I expected when I got here was to see her, or to have her demand I get you here. I tried to avoid that.” More nodding. More aching muscles and poorly performing hearts, and Emma wouldn’t mind if Killian traced several other sentiments into a variety of different areas, but they’ve got an audience and a pregnant lady and they never did get coffee. So, it makes sense to ignore that for a second. Or several. 

“I love you,” she says instead. Shouts, really. “More than I realized I could and I—” Any other words get lost in the feel of Killian’s mouth on hers and the ability of his tongue to incite butterflies in her stomach, and she hardly hears him say I love you back. It doesn’t matter. She hears it on loop for the rest of the day, once they’re ushered unceremoniously out of Belle and Will’s apartment. Neither of them think much about getting coffee. 

And she’s just on the cusp of sleep, eyelashes fluttering and blankets halfway to stolen when Emma hears something else. Pressed into that one spot below her ear. 

“I’ve got no intention of leaving,” Killian whispers, “not because of the magic or the power that comes with it, only because I love you. A ridiculous amount, honestly.”

Sleep seems kind of pointless after that. 

He decides to leave Mills, eventually. 

“I don’t have magic,” Killian rationalizes, and Emma supposes that makes sense. “But I will need some help finding a job.”

Sliding a file with his name written in swirling script across her desk, he’s got the gall to smirk at her and Emma resists the urge to magic him into her chair. “Luckily I do have other skills, including a job offer—” “—If you’ve got a job offer, you don’t really need my help.” “Yeah, but you’re very pretty and I hear you’re real good at what you do.” “Which is?” “Moving in with me,” Killian says, which isn’t the last thing she expects but it still manages to catch her off guard. Lights erupt at the end of several strands of hair. “The reaction I was going for, absolutely.” “No, no, that’s—that’s dumb.” “Is it?” “I was going to ask you to move in with me. First.” “Competitive weirdo.” “I have an apartment,” Emma argues. “With laundry on site.” “Ah, yeah, that is a marker in the pro column. Plus, you’ll be there right?” “In my apartment? Yeah, probably,”

Pushing back on the chair he’d never really been sitting in, Killian leans across Emma’s desk. To kiss her. Hard. Magic flares in the air around them, causing bulbs to flicker and more than a few cries of get a room . “What I’m trying to do,” Killian mumbles. “If you’re asking me to move in, Swan, I’m going to accept.” “Make it sound less like a warning next time.”

He chuckles against her mouth, either ignoring the desk that must be pressing into his stomach or not bothered by it at all, and Emma tries not to throw herself at him too quickly when he brings a whole box of recently-bought blankets with him.

“So you don’t get cold, love.”

[ninjakitty15]

Chapter 15: Trickster Treats (Loki X OFC Pairing)

"You know, not that I'm complaining here, but you don't have to bribe me with chocolate chip pumpkin pancakes and pumpkin spice latte, as much as I missed those breakfast foods this time of year," I assured my best friend in the whole fucking multiverse.

"You have no idea how fucking bored I've been since you went MIA, I tried making new friends honest, but you of all people know how hard that is."

"Even in Salem where the weird are welcomed?" I asked.

Zari just nodded while shoveling crispy strips of freshly made bacon onto my already full plate. "I also think you need this, I know you don't extensively need to eat being dead and all but how the hell else do you recharge after kicking terrorist ass?"

"Mischievous magical sex certainly helps," I chirped.

"Is that why he hasn't come down for food like you did?" she asked, jerking her head toward the guest room we stayed in.

"Not as much as usual actually, we were both just tired and needed company over intimacy. Asgardians are fucking addicting, pun intended."

"Let's hope he doesn't wish he knew how to quit you," she teased.

I scoffed and shoveled more food into my mouth. "He aint never had it this good, the best thing about necrophilia is the dead can't say no."

"Jesus, woman, still with the dead jokes after all this time?"

"Always," I replied smoothly.

"So what should we do today while I got you?" she asked excitedly.

"Like you said, I gotta recharge and then I gotta celebrate properly since I missed out so many times, too many really, it's a good thing I got out before I missed it this year or I'd be seriously depressed."

"You're only really alive during this time of the year despite the veil between worlds being so thin and your death powers being strongest then, irony that is. So what was it like being in the Avengers company?"

"Kinda boring when I wasn't actively shagging the only other person on house arrest there, I'm not terribly into new state of the art tech Tony's all about. I mean yeah it looks cool and shit but like I've no idea how to use the majority of it."

"It did take forever for you to get a smartphone when the rest of the first world had been through like 5 at least."

"That was partially because I was under the impression I couldn't afford one or didn't need that much stuff just to contact people."

She rolled her eyes at me and scoffed. "Whatever, Ms. Slide to Text Not Smart Phone."

"Call me what you want but whenever I dropped that phone, the worst that happened was the battery popping out, let's see you drop a smartphone any height without a protective cover and see if it even works after that."

"Get with the times, woman!"

"Don't wanna!" I retorted and crossed my arms in a pretend pout.

"How the hell does Loki put up with you really?"

"I already told you, copious amounts of kinky and experimental sex, keep up."

"What about sex?" a familiar smooth accented voice interrupted.

We both turned to see a groggy looking Loki that shifted into his mortal form Tom seamlessly, a hand combing through his short sandy curls and a lazy smile tugging at his lips upon setting his eyes on me. "Zari wants to know why you put up with me."

"Put up with? Why would it be a chore to be with you?"

"My thoughts exactly. See, Zari, it's not me, it's you," I taunted.

"Shut up and eat your damn pancakes," she demanded.

"So orange is for the pumpkins everyone picks and carves into what you then call Jacko Lanterns, black is for the night of the holiday and the darkness and death that comes after the season more or less, white is for the spirits free to roam about, what about purple, I know I've seen some of that mixed in as well as green," Loki commented while we raided some more tourist stores full of holiday goodies.

"Purple seems to come out more in kid friendly type decor or even dare I say glitsy stuff I'd rather not. Green's also a bit kiddish but it also goes with the monsters and other characters people tend to dress as for the occasion," I explained, sifting through the sweatshirts that all had Salem something or other on it.

"And what's the most common costumes?"

"Well I mean every year there's always a select group of costumes that's all the rage of that year, like maybe Tony did something wicked awesome the world knows about so everyone's gotta be Iron Man that year, but then there's also something for the girls that's excessively popular but at a certain age or older it's gotta be either slutty or some other form of sexy because that's society in a nutshell. Dudes can be anything but chicks are just breathing sex dolls."

"That's disgusting, why didn't you people let me destroy New York when I had the chance?"

"What do you mean 'you people'?" I asked suspiciously. "You know how I feel about that city."

Loki picked up a rather cute looking scarf that of course was green and wrapped it around his neck then turned to me. "What do you think?"

"Lay off the green or go back to your real form, you can't have it both ways, even I know that and I never go undercover."

He scowled at my logic as he had made a habit of by now but put it back all the same and chose an orange one with black skulls instead. "As a child then, to your knowledge and not society's, what were the most popular costumes of choice?"

"I think even before I came into existence, the classic ones were: witch, ghost, devil, clown, cat, skeleton...those ones at least. They were the easiest to make as well if you didn't have the money or time to buy one and the economy has always been shit. Oh and there was the Grim Reaper of course, how could I forget that?"

"That was your first costume, wasn't it?"

"Nah." I smiled. "I don't remember much before I died, no faces or names or anyone really but I do know I was a witch...glad I can remember that much of my childhood. Ghost was the absolute easiest fucking costume to make but witch was the bees knees for me."

"What made a ghost costume?"

"Oh just find any old white or offwhite bedsheet that didn't drag too much on the ground or you'd probably trip over it half the time you're trick or treating, cut two holes for your eyes, boom done, you're a ghost, I sheet you not."

"Zari warned me you were fond of bad jokes and puns, I found them amusing but now I'm sort of wary."

It was my turn to scowl at this, he seemed to enjoy my wordplay till she had to ruin it. "She and I are gonna have words later about that, ruining my fun when I just got here." I snagged a comfy looking black and orange hoodie with a cute witch pun on it to purchase and snagged Loki's scarf as well to pay myself despite his protests. "Shush, Zari gave us spending cash since we want to stay under the radar and cards will fuck us over that way."

"I know but I wanted to pay for it myself," he insisted.

"Listen, this city is all about my favorite holiday and said holiday only has one law, trick or treat and since you are the master of tricks here, if you want anything in this city, it'll be my treat."

He opened his mouth to argue a few times before deciding he wasn't going to win what I thought was a smooth as fuck reply that should also be bulletproof too. "Fine. Well played."

"Jolly good, and thanks, been known to happen. How long do you think we'll have before we're found by either party?"

"Stark will hopefully find us first, I'd rather not be locked up again, I'm sure you agree there. As to how long...a few days give or take with his resources. Worried, love?"

"Something occurred to me just now. While this is my turf and I'm nigh unstoppable here, I don't want the other agents coming here and sullying my slice of heaven or Valhalla in your case and that's what they'll do, they're a plague, spreading and destroying everything they come in contact with."

"I can understand that, that's what I felt with Asgard before it went down in flames. What would you have us do then?"

"I don't want them here, but I still need to sort out the traitors, there's gotta be more than the two I saw there at the base. I'm also tired of being targetted, that's the reason I left the country in the first place and literally the second I come back before I can even touch native soil, I'm back to being wanted by the wrong people. This country sucks."

"The Avengers have already tried many times to nip it in the bud as you Midgardians would say. I'm willing to bet there's several more hidden bases off the radar we won't be able to find ourselves unless they want us too."

"What are you saying?"

"We won't be able to rid them of the world unfortunately, they've been around since 1940s at least and don't plan on retiring despite their old age. Although...what did you say about getting rid of certain household arachnids earlier on?"

I blinked and wracked my memory, wondering where he was going with his musings before it dawned on me and a wide wicked grin spread across my face. "If you can't kill em, make em wish they never came in. What do you know, you can teach an old god new tricks."

His smirk from pulling a page out of my own book went back into an unamused though half hearted glare at my last bit. "You're lucky I don't know how to quit you."

And once more I was the one scowling again. "You wouldn't survive the withdrawals, I'm a fever you can't sweat out. Also, it's rude to spy on other people's conversations. That's classified information you don't have clearance for."

"I'm a god, I have clearance for everything, silly woman."

"Eventually that card will expire that you keep pulling," I muttered, tugging him out of the shop and onto another while pulling on my new hoodie.

Outside in the heart of Salem, the cobblestone streets were damn near packed like Mardi Gras  in the South, street vendors everywhere, tourists and people that just bloody love the upcoming holiday getting it while it was there. The park across the street from all the chaos was busy with fair rides and games for the kiddos, fried dough, candy apples and fresh apple cider as fair food. This was my home, my heaven, if I died for good then and there, I'd regret nothing because I'd already be in heaven and there was no telling what kind of afterlife I was in for. The air was crisp and smelled of hay rides and apples and I couldn't remember a time I was more in love than I was then. I pulled Loki out of the crowded street and into a side alley between shops, grabbed him by his cute new scarf and snogged him passionately. Even in human form I couldn't get enough of him, would you blame me? He cupped the side of my face once we pulled away and studied me almost tenderly.

"This will be our place," he murmured. "Not Stark's, not the Avengers, not Hydra's. I've already watched one place I love go down in flames and I've already lost one woman I love fall before that even happened, I won't let either of which happen again, not while I'm still breathing. I swear it on my life. We can't let them near this but we can't run from them either, so we'll take the fight to them or die trying."

"Well, you might die, I'm already there but yes, I concur. First we enjoy our mini vacation, then we raise some hell and all the damned that comes with it. To mischief, to merriment, to manslaughter!"

[zodiyack]

Tell Me It’s Real

Requested by anon: So I had this idea for a fic where the reader is pretending to be in love with Roman to get close to him. The reader is a viglante and plans to take him down when she earns his trust. he finds out about her plans and he’s upset because he really likes her. But instead of killing her he keeps her as a prisoner. Sorry if that’s too specific. I love your work!

Pairing: Roman Sionis x reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, alcohol, drugging, crime, soft!Roman, mention of murder, kidnapping(?), mention of Roman’s homemade removal surgery (aka face skinning), mention of Stockholm syndrome? idk, movie reference

Note: I hope this is what you wanted! I’m sorry if I went a bit offtrack! I also I apologize, I was rather tired when writing the first half of this!

Taglist: @stardancerluv​​ @matth1w​​ @redspaceace​​

Masterlist | Birds of Prey Masterlist

Part Two

Her lips formed into a smirk against his. He was tempted to deepen their kiss, but for now, he was being interrupted with a business deal. With him being more focused on the pain across from him who was pleading for a deal, he didn’t notice the flicking eyes of his girlfriend. The way she subtly listened to their conversation.

But just because Roman hadn't noticed didn’t mean Victor didn’t take caution. He saw her, just as he did every time she did something of the sort. He was curious to know why, but he left it be. As Roman’s best friend and employee, he knew the boundary of accusing Roman’s lover of anything without solid evidence.

He tried photos. But Y/n was the same as he was with her. Both keeping an eye on each other. He tried to set up cameras. But she was always one step ahead, always being out of the view of the lens or the footage would “somehow” be glitchy, deleted, ruined, just never the way he knew it was supposed to be.

It all added up for him. However, not for Roman. Head over fucking heals for Y/n; he refused to believe anything that was said of her. From Victor or someone else. He never believed.

This was the time. Victor was determined to catch her. She had to fuck up at some point, right? No human being was that perfect.

“Rome?” Her breath tickled his neck, distracting him from the conversation. She nipped at his ear as he made a “mhm” sound in response to his name. “I’m feeling thirsty. What about you?”

“Exactly the same as you, angel. I’ll get Vincent to g-”

“No!” Victor’s head snapped up, both him and Roman had a look of confusion and shock at her sudden raise of voice. “I mean, no. I’ll get them myself.”

“Oh...if you’d like. Come right back though, alright, Angel?”

“Yes sir. I love you, Romey.” She kissed him roughly before setting off to get the promised drinks. Now that she finally had control over him, her plan was being set into motion. He finally trusted her. She knew of the reports being made of her, she knew how Roman turned them down like they were just rumors, it all was just proof that it was the perfect time for her to begin.

She went up to the bar and asked for two cups of a random alcohol. When the man handed her the drinks, she thanked him and walked to a dark corner, pouring pills into one of the cups. Thank god she accepted Harley’s offer.

“Wait! Please, just let me go, I just started my life free of Mr. J! I’ll give you something in return!”

“Harley, what on earth could you possibly have that would stop me from turning you in?”

She fished around in her pocket, smiling brightly when she found what she was searching for. “Here,” she held out a bottle of pills. Specifically the kind you’d use to drug someone. The kind to knock them out. “take ‘em!”

“What the hell would I need these for? I’m a fucking vigilante, I’m throwing you guys in jail, not kidnapping you.”

“You know exactly what they’re for!”

Her arms folded over her chest, inhaling deeply and rolling her eyes. “No, Harley, I really don’t.”

“Oh come on Y/n! Don’t be so modest! I know you’re goin’ for the big one! Roman Sionis?”

Her eyes widened. “H-how did you-”

“Easy! You and that other... scary.. cop lady want a case against him. You’re the only new person so he has no idea who you are, meaning it’s easy for you to sneak right in and turn him to putty in your hands before... ya know-” She shook the pills next to her face. “You may have gotten some people in jail, but if you build your reputation up too quickly, he’ll have you shot dead before you can even reach the lot of his club.”

“And how do I know you won’t go blabbering to him?” Y/n drawled, taking the bottle from the blonde.

“Really? He hates my guts. I thought you knew that already? Oooh righttt, you’re new. Sorry, I just forgot for a sec due to how good you are at this hero shit.”

“...Thanks?”

“Anytime sweets!” She glanced down at her wrist, checking an imaginary watch. “Welp, nice talking to ya, but I gotta go. Seeya!” Before any words could leave Y/n’s mouth, Harley was already on the back of the bus, holding onto the rail and catching an illegal ride.

She sat back down, smiling at her boyfriend and handing him the cup with the drugged drink. One of the men across from her initiated a conversation. It was the perfect timing for something against her plan.

Victor had seen her. He’d seen the pills. Stealthily, but obvious enough for Roman to notice him, he switched the cups. and shrugged when Roman raised an eyebrow.

“Could I make a toast?”

Y/n turned to Victor, smiling and grabbing the glass in front of her. Victor spat out some bullshit toast and downed his glass, the rest of the table following his action. A few moments went by and Y/n started to sway, she struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Angel? Are you alright? Do you need us to leave early?”

“I’m.. I’m fine Rome. I p-promi...promise...” The last “promise” of her sentence was whispered. Her head hit the table and her eyes fell closed. Roman jumped up, no knowing what was going on or who to blame.

“You! What the fuck did you do to her Victor?”

He assumed quickly, based off Victor switching their cups in front of him. “It wasn’t me. That cup was from her, meant for you. Remember? I didn’t do jack-shit to her.”

It hit him. Finally. It hit him like a thunderbolt striking his tall form. Moments he should’ve taken note of. The times she was caught in suspicious actions and brushed it off with some excuse he believed. There was still one more thing.

“Out.” No one moved. Rarely anyone heard him. If they did, they didn’t listen to him. “Out!! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CLUB!” Just like that, they did. People swarmed, racing to the exit, not wanting to face the furry and wrath of Roman Sionis. “Zsasz-”

“On it boss.” He began to pick her up and head into the direction of where Roman’s infamous unconsented facial removal surgeries took place. 

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“I-”

“Don’t listen? I know. As I was going to say, chain her up... please. Don’t hurt her, don’t kill her,” He turned to the rest of his employees, “you got that? NONE OF YOU LAY A FUCKING HAND ON HER! Or it’ll be your face I skin next.”

Audible gulps sounded through the room. No one moved. Not even an inch.

“Well? GO!”

. . .

She woke up, vision blurred and wrists feeling sore. Her eyes were watery and her throat felt dry. She couldn’t have messed up, she knew exactly what glass it was in! No matter her mistake, she was obviously in for it now. ‘Fuck.’

“Well well, look who’s awake Roman!” A voice sneered from in front of her. Y/n managed to look up, meeting the eyes of Victor Zsasz. “Look at you now. So helpless. You’ve failed, ya know? Just one little brat who ca-”

“Enough, Victor.”

Victor’s eyes never left Y/n’s. He stared her down while mumbling an apology to Roman, obviously not genuine. She took the chance, smiling mischievously, and spat in his face.

“You bitch!” His hand raised to meet her face, but Roman stopped him quickly.

“Victor. I said enough.” Y/n could hear his steps approaching her. Great, she really was gonna die. “Please leave us, friend.”

“Yeah whatever.”

He left, just as Roman had asked, Although she acted fearless and literally just did something that could’ve gotten her killed on the spot, a tinge of fear made it’s way to her gut. Roman seemed intrigued with his girlfriend. Was she really afraid or was she skimming through her mind for an escape strategy?

Neither. 

She was too busy shivering with wide eyes, confused by Roman’s actions.

“Listen... I know, I should kill you. I mean, if anyone else had done it, I would’ve peeled their fucking face off and then made them suffer a horrible death, but you... I fucking loved you. I- I love you.”

“Roman. P-please I-”

“No. I’ve already figured it out, Angel.”

“Roman! I beg of you, please don’t kill me.. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hurt you like that! I hurt you by using your heart rather than a less emotional tactic and I’m sorry!”

Roman tutted, walking around Y/n and kneeling in front of her. “Y/n, Y/n, Y/n. You’re right, it hurt me in a very unfair way, but your apologies won’t excuse your attempt of knocking me out.”

“How did you-” She thought back, Victor keeping his eyes on her, her finding what she thought to be an unoccupied corner and not bothering to check her surroundings. “Shit.”

“O-huh-ha-o! You finally figured it out! Well, he switched the glasses, and look where we are now. The woman I love, trying to kill me. What is this, Mr. and Mrs. Smith?”

“Could be.” she sighed. “Are you gonna...” The chains rattled against the floor as she moved her hands in a circle motion over her face.

“Skin you? No. I’m gonna keep you here.” He stood up.

“Am I gonna die?”

“No to that question as well.” Roman started towards the door. “There is, however, a way you can get out of this.”

“And that is?”

He turned slightly, eyes meeting hers. “Well you gotta make sure it’s the truth. Some guy is coming by and he loves his machinery. Something about it shocking you if you lie?” A goofy “oops”-kind-of-smile rested on his lips.

“But what is it that I need to do?”

The door slammed shut and the locks clicked into place. “Tell Me It’s Real.”

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦  

Part two? Also I’m sorry if this story is like...REALLY ooc or something, I just went with the flow. 

And with the movie reference part (Mr. And Mrs. Smith) I could totally write an au for that as a Roman Sionis if y’all like that idea. Him or another character, I don’t mind, I just like the movie a lot

✘ Bowie

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Prompt Request

So, here’s the thing, dear reader. This thing kind of took on a life of its own. 

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Jaskier x Reader Word Count: 4,558 Rating: M Prompt:  “Hello! I’m glad to find another writer who writes for Jaskier. Can you please write a fic with Jaskier x female reader (perhaps one that is sweet and kind, but insecure about herself) that is both got fluff and angst with the prompts “Don’t be scared, I’m right here.” + “You’ve shown me what love can feel like.” + “I love you. You are what matters to me.” + “Can I kiss you?” + “Are you scared?” + "I can’t believe you’re carrying my child.” + “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.” a/n: Reader and Jaskier are in an arranged marriage and end up falling in love. There are little breaks between parts to denote time passing. How much time? Who knows. But time! I hope that this is ok and that you like it and that you aren’t 96 by the time you finish reading it. For better or worse, here it is. 

It was the happiest day of your life. That’s what they told you, anyway. That’s what you’d always hoped it would be. Everything about the moment was like something from a dream. You, standing in a simple white gown with a crown of buttercups on your head. The man standing in front of you was handsome, with sparkling blue eyes and rich, chestnut hair. He smiled at you and squeezed your hands, clasped before you, with tenderness. This was everything you wanted your wedding to be, if only you knew the groom.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Y/F/N and Julian Alfred Pankratz. May their union provide happiness and bounty for both of their houses,” the priest declared, intoning the words with solemnity suiting the business merger this wedding essentially was. The man named Julian smiled at you but you could see a tinge of nervousness in his eyes as well. It helped you feel less alone.

“The groom has requested to provide vows of his own writing. He may speak them now,” the priest said. You’re surprised to hear this, wondering what this stranger could have to say to you. He squeezed your hands tighter and though a crowd was gathered around you (including many weeping ladies sitting on the groom’s side of the chapel), he only had eyes for you.

“It is no secret that this wedding is… complicated. I have only known you for a short time. Indeed, I only laid eyes on you as you walked down the aisle. I cannot speak to your interests, your tastes, or even your favorite color. I do not pretend to possess the knowledge to make you happy but I can promise you this; I will treat you with respect and kindness and I will do my utmost to make the best of this for the both of us, if you will allow me to.”

If you had to be forced into a political marriage, you’re happy at least that you have ended up with someone kind.

“Y/N, repeat after me…” the priest begins but you stop him.

“Actually, I would also like to recite my own vows,” you say, surprising yourself. You look back at your almost-husband and take a deep breath.

“I have heard you are quite the wordsmith so I won’t spend too much time trying to impress you here but I wanted to say that I offer in turn respect and kindness and also a really good loaf of bread.”

He laughs and you feel a smile break across your face as well and you both stay focused on each other as the rest of the formalities are read. When the moment comes that the priest announces you man and wife, your new husband leans forward and you can feel your heart in your throat.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, a whisper’s breadth from your lips.

“I mean, that’s what we do now isn’t it?” you ask, feeling awkward under the watchful eye of the crowd around you.

“Not necessarily. Not unless you say so,” he says firmly. You know that he means it and that you don’t need a kiss to complete the arrangement, at this point you have both held up your sides of the bargain and your families are wealthier with new trades.

“Yes,” you say decisively. He smiles and pulls you in closer and his mouth is soft and tender on yours. It’s a sweet kiss, but not chaste, his teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip as you pull apart, giving you a wink as he does.

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

“My name is Jaskier, by the way. Well, it is Julian Alfred Pankratz but everyone calls me Jaskier. Everyone but my family but fuck ‘em.”

The words slip out with a slight slur, the result of the wine you’ve both been drinking. You’d gone to the after-wedding feast for appearance’s sake but he’d snuck you both out with a plate of cheese and meats and a bottle of wine to escape the pomp and circumstance. You were grateful for the opportunity to get to know your husband. Crowds always made you nervous anyway. Jaskier had pulled off the stifling doublet and undone the buttons on his undershirt in a way that you thought should shock you until you remembered that you were married now. At some point you had placed the flower crown on Jaskier’s head and he left it on, looking like some sort of fae being that was put on this earth to save or damn you and you weren’t sure if you cared which it was.

“I’m not feeling very charitable towards my family either,” you say in response to his outburst, the closest you’ve come to openly expressing how you felt about being forced into a marriage to a stranger.

“Oh come on you can do better than that,” Jaskier goads.

“No I mean, I understand where they’re coming from. I’m their only daughter and one does have to consider the future…”

“Come on darling let’s not start this false marriage with more lies. I recognize that I’m a hell of a catch to get but surely somewhere deep inside of you there is some anger over this. You could have married anyone you pleased but you get saddled with a stranger. I could have been 85 years old or had a humpback or, or, or been Valdo Marx for god’s sakes!” Jaskier exclaims. His fervent anger makes you laugh but also makes you bold.

“It was….”

“Yes?” Jaskier says encouragingly, gesturing with the empty goblet in his hand.

“Well I must admit…”

“Go on,” he urges.

“It was damned disgusting,” you finally blurt out, half-shocked at your own temerity.

“Yes! More! Keep going!” Jaskier insists, rising unsteadily to his feet to cheer you on with more gusto.

“For all of my life leading up this I have done everything they’ve asked. I’ve been an excellent pupil, I’ve attended every stupid event even though I couldn’t have cared less, I have sacrificed and tried to be a good daughter and carried this stupid legacy and I don’t know what I expected but… but they could have at least talked to me! They could have asked me how I felt, they could have pretended to give a shit. They could have tried to care, I deserved that at least, didn’t I?” your anger turns to bitter sadness and Jaskier stops pumping his fists when he sees your shoulders start to shake with stifled sobs.

“Oh no, oh bollocks, no please don’t, hey,” he crouches next to you and pulls you into a hug you’re too upset to resist. His arms are strong and he offers quiet, comforting words in your ear as you cry into his chest, your face pressing up against the soft linen of his shirt and the patch of dark hair beneath.

“Shhh, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you. I know we didn’t choose this but you’re not in this alone, I promise,” he murmurs the words into the top of your head as one hand rubs soothing circles into your back. He holds you long after the tears dry and you fall asleep curled around each other.

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

Your life falls into a sort of rhythm. He introduces you to Geralt who immediately rejects adding you to their adventures until Jaskier makes him try your bread. You hadn’t been lying about the promise, having honed your craft through years of baking to cope with the feelings you were forced to repress. He begrudgingly acquiesced to you joining them on very specific journeys for very specific lengths of time but despite himself you grow on him. You and Jaskier also grow to know each other better. Before long he knows that your favorite color is (Y/F/C) and you learn more of his life as a bard. At first you were nervous about going to the inns with him as he performed, especially when he would flirt and sing directly to you, but he always seemed to sense when you were too uncomfortable and would turn his attention back on the rest of the crowd. In time that began to bother you as well but you didn’t examine those feelings, trying hard to enjoy the relative peace you had.

At first you didn’t mind when Jaskier would go on his long journeys and you even grew to enjoy your solitude in the little house your parents had given the two of you as a wedding present. It was easily the most modest of your properties, but you didn’t care, you reveled in the ability to make a space your own. As time went on, the longer Jaskier was away you grew to wish there were more signs of him around. He didn’t possess much, bringing with him only clothes and the lute he took with him on his journeys. When he came back he would tell you all about his journeys and perform his new songs for you and you would provide him with a sampling of what you’ve done with your baking and pottery and the other things you did to fill your time. He was usually back after a few weeks but one night Geralt came with word that he would be leaving for much longer, at least a month, and while the words weren’t directly spoken you could tell that there was no guarantee they would both be coming back.

“Are you scared?” you asked Jaskier after Geralt had left ostensibly to tend to Roach but truly to give them space to talk.

“A little,” he confessed, “But I must go, you understand.”

You bite your lip and he saw you warring with some emotion he couldn’t place.

“Y/N?” he asked, “Come on, talk to me.”

“It’s just… what if you don’t come back?” you ask.

“Don’t let Geralt scare you, he always makes things sound worse than they truly are. I will be back. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it,” he says.

“But what if you can’t?” you insist.

“Well… then everything I own is passed to you and you could be your own woman again. I mean, we don’t really prevent each other from living our lives but you could find someone to fall in love with and have children and whatever else people do,” he doesn’t look at you as he says this and you’re quick to wipe away the tears that come up as he speaks. He glances back up at you and brushes the last trace of wetness from your cheeks.

“Don’t be scared,” he insists, “I’m right here.”

He pulls you in for a hug and holds you, much as he did your wedding night, and you squeeze back as hard as you can as though you can keep him chained to you through the embrace. You look up to say something else and your lips brush by accident, the first they’ve touched since the kiss on the altar. He wordlessly pulls you in again and deepens the kiss, running a hand through your hair as he tentatively brushes tongue against your lips. You part them in response and shift in his arms til you’re straddling him, arms wrapping back around his neck. His hands trace the contours of your body through the clothes and settle on your hips. You arch against him and feel him beneath you, hard and wanting. The pressure of your body pressing against him pulls a moan from his lips and the sound seems to break through the moment, pulling him back to earth. He reluctantly pulls back from the kiss and for a moment you sit there, panting and uncertain.

“You have a long journey tomorrow,” you whisper when the silence grows too long, “I should let you rest.” “Y/N…” he begins but you slide off of him and hurry to the kitchen, eager to find a way to rid yourself of the energy and emotions that have gotten away with you. Jaskier thinks about following, wants nothing more than to finish what you’d both started, but he leaves tomorrow, and you were right. He may not come back. And he could never forgive himself if he got you with child and then died to leave you to care for it alone.

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

75 loaves of bread, 19 dozen cookies, and 14 pies later, Jaskier comes back home.

You’re sitting by the hearth reading when you think you hear it, that familiar strumming of a lute in the distance. Then you hear an unmistakable voice and you jolt to your feet, running to the door. You can see him walking, still a block away and you keep running. When he sees you he stops singing and places the lute on his back. By the time he’s got his strapped on you’ve tackled him in a hug that nearly knocks him off of his feet and he lifts you slightly off the ground, spinning you in a little circle as he does.

“You’re home,” you say.

“I’m home,” he echoes, one hand brushing the side of your face and cupping your chin, “And I have so much to tell you.”

You hold hands as you walk back to the house and he begins to tell you about the journeys he and Geralt have been on. You’re only half paying attention as he speaks, no story of dragons or mythical artifacts capable of competing with the sight of him finally in front of you again, the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hand in yours. Over bread he tells you about his dilemma over writing a series of songs or one very epic song to capture the tale. By the time night has fallen you’re both seated in front of the fire, your head on his shoulder. You notice his fingers twitching and you can tell there’s something left unsaid.

“Jaskier?”

“Hmm?”

“What is it?”

“What is what?” he asks, the innocence in his voice forced. You sit up and level a look at him.

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend nothing’s wrong. We’ve never lied to each other, don’t start now,” you say. He sighs and you feel your heart pounding in your chest as you think about what he may be about to say. He’s in love with someone? He’s cursed and dying? He isn’t really here and this is just a dream and soon you will wake up alone in your bed, the right side cold and empty?

“It’s foolish really, it’s nothing to be worried about,” he says.

“Then tell me what it is,” you urge, trying to soften the demand with a smile.

“Being out there with Geralt for so long… well, it made me realize some things,” he says. Your heart stops and you fight the urge to tell him to stop, to let you live in the fantasy you hadn’t realized you’d fallen into where somehow he did fall in love with you and this marriage that started as a contract can become more.

“I thought a lot about my time here in this house. With you. I thought about the little flecks of paint on your fingers and the smudges of flour in your cheeks. I thought about that little snorting sound you make in your sleep…”

Your face burns bright red as he lists your faults. Countesses never snorted; you were almost certain.

“I thought about the way it feels when you listen to my stories, truly listen to them. Not because you’re paying me for them or because I’m forcing them on you. The way you just… listen to me. I have written so many songs about it but I think, maybe, I’ve never felt it like this before,” he takes a deep breath and turns to face you, the soft, blue eyes staring into yours intently as he speaks again, “You’ve shown me what love can feel like.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in and when they have you’re still not sure how to feel. Making someone feel loved doesn’t mean they love you back. You had learned that the hard way from your parents to your sparse attempts at romance in the past. He looks at you anxiously, waiting to see what you will say but the words fail you like a curse striking you mute.

“Ah,” he says after a while, turning back to face the fire.

“No, Jaskier,” you begin but he stands and takes a deep breath, shaking his head and forcing on a smile. It’s a performance you’ve seen many times before and the first time he’s ever turned it on you.

“Please, Y/N, it’s probably for the best,” he says.

“No but you don’t understand,” you continue.

“Heartbreak is good for the songs, really. And we never made any promises to each other. Not any real ones at least. Not ones that matter.”

The words break your heart and anger you at the same time. You’ve spent a lifetime letting people tell you how you feel or what is best but not Jaskier. Never him.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz shut up and listen,” you snap, standing to meet him eye to eye. He’s visibly taken aback, eyes going wide in shock, but he stays quiet.

“Before you go too deeply into a pity party, I would like the opportunity to actually speak for myself. How dare you say those promises didn’t matter? When from the very start we have spoken honestly and fairly to each other? Sure, the marriage wasn’t sincere, but the vows were. Respect and kindness and, and, and bread! And more than that, more than anything we could have promised each other that day, love. I love you. You are what matters to me. I’m sorry if that ruins your career plans but you’ll just have to adapt!”

The pair of you stand in stunned silence as your words resonate and then you are pulled into his arms as his lips hungrily seek yours. You begin tearing at each other’s clothes, a trail of fabric leading to the bedroom. Once inside his gestures slow a little and when you impatiently rip at the buttons on your dress he halts your hands with his and his nimble fingers slip through them with ease, his eyes hungrily staring into yours as he works. He’s shirtless now and you let your gaze fall to take in the lean, corded muscles in his shoulders and arms, the toned definition of his body. You run your hands along the veins in his neck, down to the definition of his shoulder blades, across the collar bones, down into the hair on his chest which is soft and coarse all at once to the touch. The dress falls away and you feel the cold air of the room hit your exposed skin, shocking you to the fact of your nakedness and making you lose whatever courage you had summoned in your anger and passion. He sees your eyes fall away and the blush rise in your cheeks and he gently lifts your chin back up to meet his eyes.

“What is it, love?” he asks, the word moments before unspoken now falling casually and naturally from his lips.

“I’ve never… I don’t share your… experience,” you admit.

“Well I hardly find that shocking. I am very, very experienced,” he says with a roguish wink. You laugh nervously and he runs a hand along your arm, barely grazing your breasts which are taut and eager for his touch.

“How about this time I take the lead. If I do something that you don’t like, you tell me and it stops immediately,” he says.

“What if you’re enjoying it?” you ask.

“I will never enjoy something if you’re not enjoying it too. Please tell me. And next time, if, and gods I pray and hope there will be a next time if I don’t utterly cock this up, you can take charge. Does that sound good?” he asks. You nod but he shakes his head, leaning down to give you a long, lingering kiss.

“I need to hear you say the words,” he murmurs against your chin.

“That sounds good,” you answer. He smiles at you and pulls you in for another kiss, his hands bolder in his exploration, brushing against your breasts before lowering his mouth to kiss and caress them with his tongue. You’re quiet at first, not intentionally but because the sensations are new and you struggle to breath through them. You see him looking up at you, watching your face as you react, taking his cues from your body. A hand reaches lower and you part your legs for him. He finds you wet and makes a satisfied, throaty sound as he brushes a finger lightly against the folds. You gasp and he looks back up for confirmation.

“Yes, do that again,” you say. He presses in further, two fingers roaming the length of you and circling the top. You grip his hair and he continues the same rhythm.

“Do you like this?” he asks, not because he isn’t sure but because he loves to hear you try to speak when he has you like this, wet and needy and at his mercy.

“Y-yes,” you reply. “Fuck.”

“Such dirty language, Y/N, am I a bad influence?” he teases as he slides one finger gently inside of you. You can’t respond, struggling between your need to breathe and the effect his hands have on you.

“You feel ready for me, Y/N. Do you want more?” he asks.

“I want everything,” you say breathlessly. He stands, pulling his hands away despite your whine of protest and he gently leans you back over the bed. He pulls off the last of his clothing until he is just as naked and you can see the proof of his arousal.

“Is it… odd to think a penis is beautiful?” you wonder aloud. He laughs and shakes his head.

“Oh god I love you,” he says, eyes shining brightly as he stares at you in wonder.

“Prove it,” you say, a playful challenge. His eyes darken and he climbs on top of you and you can feel the delicious weight of him, the lean, strong body and the weight of his desire pressed up against your thigh.

“You may have heard that this hurts but I’m going to tell you a secret; it shouldn’t. If it starts to hurt, tell me. I want every part of this to be as exquisite for you as it possibly can be,” he whispers, warm breath tickling your ear. You nod in agreement and then, when he doesn’t move, you agree out loud. He shifts his weight around and you can feel the tip of him brushing against your entrance gently. He slides it through in increments, halting when he feels resistance until he feels you relax beneath him once more. His kisses are softer than before but deeper as well. Before long he is fully sheathed inside of you. He rests his forehead against yours, holding perfectly still to let you adjust to the feeling until you tentatively shift your hips beneath him eliciting a soft moan. He follows your lead, gently rocking himself in and out of you, his movements slow and thorough and forcing soft gasps of pleasure from your lips. You urge him to go faster and he matches your motions, angling with his cock the way he did with his fingers, following the sounds you make and the look on your face until he finds exactly where you need him. You come apart underneath him and the feeling of your release spurs his own, buried deep inside of you where he stays until you both have caught your breath.

“All in all,” he says once he’s curled up by your side, “Marriage isn’t that bad.”

The sound of your laughter lulls him to sleep.

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

Jaskier stays around for a while after this but before too much time has passed Geralt returns with word of a nearby job. He is wary about bringing you, insistently so in a way that almost hurts your feelings, but he finally relents. He asks you to ride Roach, an action that drives Jaskier nearly apoplectic and the trip to the neighboring town is spent with protests about injustice and the bonds of friendship that are meant to rise beyond that of romance. The job is quick and Jaskier is able to perform one in the series of songs about his prior adventures at the inn while you and Geralt eat.

“Does he know?” Geralt asks, yellow eyes seeking yours.

“Does he know what?” you ask.

“Hmm,” is all he says in answer before looking back down at his meal.

“What?” you insist.

“It might not be my place to say,” he says.

“Well you’ve already said this much you might as well keep going,” you say. You’ve grown much more assertive since marrying Jaskier and Geralt can’t help me pleased by it, even if it is inconvenient for him at this moment.

“You’re with child,” he says bluntly, popping a piece of bread in his mouth as he does. You stare at him blankly.

“What?” you ask.

“What?” Jaskier asks, suddenly reappearing behind his friend and reaching for your ale to take a drink between songs.

“I…” you look to Geralt for help but he gives you a look that tells you you’re on your own. Coward.

“I’ll tell you after your set,” you say.

“Is something wrong?” Jaskier asks, worry creasing his brow. “Y/N, tell me.”

“Ok. Well. And this might be wrong because frankly I don’t know how he would know, though it would make sense…” you trail off as you try to remember if your courses were due yet. Jaskier watches you anxiously and you know you have to put him out of his misery.

“He says that I’m… pregnant,” you say. You watch Jaskier’s face carefully and you can see the moment what you’ve said resonates. His eyes light up and he gives a little incredulous laugh.

“You are? With me?”

You scoff.

“No, Jaskier, with a bloody goat. Yes with you,” you say. He leans over the table to kiss you, knocking over the ale and squashing Geralt’s meal with his knee but the witcher doesn’t say anything and simply stands and walks away to leave you your moment. Jaskier cradles your face in his hands and happy tears run down his face.

"I can’t believe you’re carrying my child,” he says, his voice awed and filled with love.

“Well you’ve got a few months to come around to it,” you joke.

“I will be the best father and I will love this child with every ounce of my being. I will write them a litany of songs that would make the angels weep with the love I hold for them and their mother,” you smile at the dramatics that come of Jaskier’s emotions and press your foreheads together.

“I’m glad this will be good for business,” you tease.

“This is the best thing. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he says. And for once, without reservation or fear, you believe him.

[thiswasinevitableid]

On brand with the last ask, could you please do a New Years indruck?

Of course!

The list is created three weeks after the world almost but ultimately doesn’t end, and a mere five days after Indrid announces he plans to stay in Kepler for the foreseeable future. 

“Hey, uh, if you wanna come with us, me and Leo and a few others are gonna go bowling tomorrow night.” Duck says these words after dropping Indrid off at his trailer, as has become their habit if both happen to be visiting the lodge at the same time.

“I would be happy to come along. I have never bowled, so I can’t promise I’ll be good.”

“Wait, really? You been on Earth, what, decades if not centuries and you’ve never gone bowling?”

A shrug, “I was alone, and often chose my activities based on my investigations and, later, on what allowed me to intervene in unwanted futures.”

Duck taps the steering wheel, “Are there other things you missed out on?”

“Plenty.”

“Like what?”

Indrid sifts through his memories, looking for the moments when he’d wistfully wondered what something was like, or turned away from an object of interest in order to pursue his mission or prevent a catastrophe.

“I...there are so many, I am afraid we would be in the car all night if I were to name them.”

Duck drums on the wheel a moment more, then snaps his fingers and reaches across Indrid to rummage in the glove box,. He pulls out a napkin and a pen, scribbles something on it before handing it to Indrid.

“Here, when you think of more, write ‘em down on this list. Probably can’t help with all of them, but I’m bettin I can help with some.”

“Thank you Duck, but why do this for me?”

He knows the answer but, selfishly, he wants to hear it in real time.

“Because you’re my friend. And hey, owe you one for tellin us our first plan to stop the Quell was gonna backfire.”

Indrid doesn’t really care about that second part of the explanation, but he smiles anyway, “I suppose that’s true. See you tomorrow.” He hops out of the car and waves as Duck pulls away, opens the ‘Bago in the dim red glow of his taillights. It’s only when he’s inside that he sees what Duck actually wrote on the list. 

Fun things Indrid’s never done

1) Bowling.

Indrid grabs Capri Sun from the fridge, sits down and picks up a pen, still laying on a nearby drawing, and adds to the list.

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

Somewhere around number 14, obtain fancy, proper manicure the list moves from Indrid’s table to Duck’s fridge. Indrid admires his shiny, pink and yellow nails while Duck crosses that item off along with number 23, eat Sushi at a place with rotating boat things. They’d driven two towns over for that combination, a Saturday well spent as far as Indrid is concerned. 

And he is. Concerned. Duck has spent nearly one day out of every weekend with Indrid since the list was created, even when the activity is something Indrid could easily do on his own. He’s bonded with others as well. Juno took a  water-coloring class with him (he’d seldom sought out other forms of art in spite of wanting to try them, drawing serve his purposes just fine) and dishing the dirt on Ducks younger days. Barclay helped him actually make a cake from start to finish. Jake taught him how to do an adequately graceful dive off a diving board. 

But more often than not, it’s Duck by his side. He enjoys the other mans’ company immensely, the warm, safe feeling that flickers in his chest when Duck is with him. Yet still he worries. 

“Duck?” He looks up from his nails.

“Yeah, ‘Drid?” 

“I appreciate all your help, and your company. But you know you do not have to do everything on the list with me simply because it was your idea, right?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m doin them because I like spendin time with you, goofus. Besides, it’s kinda fun, havin an excuse to share all the normal, cool shit of the world with someone who hasn’t gotten to experience it before. I like seein how happy it makes you”

“Oh.” Indrid says softly. He hadn’t seen that last sentence coming. Duck’s smile goes shy at the edges, and  Indrid realizes his answer was not sufficient to convey how he feels. 

“Thank you, Duck. I hope you know I always enjoy spending time with you. And there is no one I would rather explore the world with.”

“Glad to hear it” Duck leans against the fridge, “now c’mon, we’ve still got time to go feed the Ducks down on the Greenbriar.”

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

It’s the week between Christmas and New Years when Indrid discovers another item for his list. 

“So, Barclay,” Dani, visiting from Sylvain this week, flops on the lobby couch near the fire, “you’re gonna finally have someone to smooch at midnight.”

“Uh, ah, well, yeah. I mean, if Joseph wants to, of course.”

“Oh yes, that is an earth tradition, isn’t it. For luck?” Indrid cocks his head, trying to recall if he ever learned the true reason for it. 

“Maybe? I think it’s mostly an excuse to kiss.” Barclay shoots Dani a friendly glare when she bounces her eyebrows. 

“I see.”

“Have you ever gotten a New Years kiss, Indrid?” 

“No.” He answers mildly, as if the thought is already leaving his mind.

That night, as Duck is queuing up The Addams Family (it’s not a list item, they simply both enjoy the film), Indrid adds a new item to the list.

60: Kiss someone at midnight on new years

At some point during the night, Duck gets up to grab them drinks, and from the corner of his eye he sees him pause and read the list.  He says nothing about it when he sits back down, but several futures emerge where he rests his arm around Indrid’s shoulder. 

None of those futures come to pass.  Indrid tries not to be disappointed.

 He continues this futile process throughout the remaining week. True, he could ask someone to be his new years kiss, or choose the person closest by to ask on the night of. But he wants it to be Duck. Duck, with his easy smile and good heart, his fondness for gently teasing Indrid, his absurd laugh, the way he makes Indrid feel home when they’re side by side. It can’t be anyone else.

He nearly cracks during item 43, have a snowball fight, when he collides with Duck accidentally while avoiding a barrage from Hollis and Jake. They hit the ground, the human shaking with giggles beneath him. Duck catches his breath, reaches up and adjusts Indrids glasses, knocked askew in the dive. 

“Knew I was fallin for you, but this is ridiculous” he murmurs.

Indrid is a half-second away from kissing him, or at the very least asking him out, when a large snowball is dropped on top of them. He splutters, shaking powder from his head while Duck guffaws, and spots Barclay running the other way in his Sylph form. 

He hands Duck his glasses and scoops snow into all four hands “I’ll be right back, I need to perform an air strike.”

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

The lodge lobby is covered in white star lights, silver and gold streamers hang from the ceiling, and Aubrey has enchanted the clock above the fireplace to shower rainbow glitter on the room every hour, on the hour. 

Because the party invitation stated guests should dress “fancy,” Indrid is in a sparkly silver sweater and his most formal pair of sweatpants. When he sees Duck enter the room around nine, he spends a good thirty seconds admiring the way his suit flatters the sturdy, familiar curves of his frame. 

He’s given many more chances to admire them, as Duck spends much of the night by his side, sitting snug against him as they talk with their friends by the fire. Indrid allows himself to be content with this closeness, afraid that broaching the subject of the kiss will ruin things. He’s so certain it’s not worth the risk, he doesn’t bother looking at the futures. 

As midnight approaches, many of the guests crowd near the glowing count-down clock Aubrey’s created in the air. Duck and Indrid stay seated.

“Five, four, three, two, one, happy new year!” People cheer and whoop, and Indrid watches Dani dip Aubrey in a kiss, Stern cup Barclays face gently with a smile.

Oh well, there’s always next year. 

“Hey, ‘Drid.”

He turns, finds Duck with a sweet, flirtatious smile spreading across his face. Carefully, he tilts Indrids glasses up onto his forehead. Indrid leans in, pulled magnetically into Ducks arms. He hums as warm, champagne-tinged lips meet his own. 

Duck pulls back to breathe, but keeps him in the embrace, “That good enough to check off the list?”

Indrid tries to keep his voice steady, “Please don’t tell me that’s the only reason you-mphnmmmmm.” The next kiss is deeper, Duck growling gently when Indrid nips his lower lip. 

“Been wantin to do that for weeks” He nuzzles Indrids cheek, “This just seemed like the most romantic way to start things off.”

“Agreed.” Indrid kisses him eagerly, climbing into his lap.

“Whoo! But also, get a room!” Aubrey’s voice rings out, and Indrid doesn’t need to look to know many heads in the room are turned their way. 

“Apologies.” He smiles, not in the least bit ashamed, at his friends. Duck turns redder than the fire behind them.

As the party winds down, the duo says their goodbyes and head out towards the human’s car. 

‘Y’know” Duck’s voice is low, full of warm, filthy promises, “think we outgha make another list of things you been wantin to try,”

“Agreed” Indrid purrs, looping his arm around Ducks shoulder, “but I suggest we not keep that one on the refrigerator.”

[lovemychoices]

Always Be My Driver - A RoD Rom-Com [Colt x MC/Logan x MC]. CH 5

Book : RIDE OR DIE

PAIRING : Colt x MC/ Logan x MC

SUMMARY: Emma and Colt have been childhood best friends since forever, they were both inseparable. In middle school they became something more but when Colt had to move with his mom away from LA all the way to Miami, things started to change between them. A small misunderstanding leads to the end of their relationship. 6 years later they meet again at the most unlikely place. Will Emma and Colt be able to mend what has been broken between them? Or will it continue to crash and burn?

Characters except my OCs belong to Pixelberry, I am just borrowing them

Word count : 3262

Chapter Summary: All secrets eventually come to light.

A/N : Posting from my phone so like tag this under #long post. Sorry for any grammatical errors! I didn’t really have the time to double check my work.

Warning : I’m rating this PG18 cause there will probably be PG18 stuff that’s going to happen in future chapters. So if you read this series you acknowledge that.

Catch up with the series HERE

Dear Diary,

It’s been a few days since that night in Colt’s room and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. Do I still have feelings for him? Does he still have feelings for me?

Emma shakes her head at the thought.

Gosh I feel like the worst girlfriend ever, I have the best boyfriend in the world, who loves and trusts me. Yet here I am thinking about if Colt Kaneko still has feelings for me. With everything that’s been going on I’ve been debating whether or not I should come clean and tell Logan about it.

*****

Emma stands in front of her vanity mirror putting on the finishing touches of her make up. She and Logan had plans to go out tonight, it was their fourth double date with Riya and Darius and she couldn’t wait to hangout with them, especially if it meant she could get Colt off her mind.

The door to the loft opens and she beams when she sees it Logan walking in. “Hey beautiful, I haven’t seen you all day.” He murmured in a low husky voice while wrapping his arms around her waist and slowly tracing kisses down her neck. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Emma Lets out a soft giggle. “But we just saw each other this morning.”

“Has it been that long already?”He continues to nip the side of her neck.

“Mmm... Logan .. Our friends are expecting us at the movies, we’re going to be late if you keep distracting me like this.”

“They can wait.. Right now I need you.” He slowly unties the knot on her robe, letting it fall to the floor leaving only her lingerie on. He spun her around and lifts her on top of the dresser, immediately capturing her lips in a heated kiss.

Emma wraps her leg around his waist, running her hand through his hair, a soft moan escapes her as she feels his warm lips pressed on her bare skin. “Logan, bed now.” She whimpers and he gave her a mischievous grin.

He swiftly lifts her up and carries her to the bed, gently throwing her on the mattress. He quickly takes off his shirt and jeans before getting on top of her. Emma pulls him in for a hungry kiss as Logan’s hand slowly traces tantalizing motions from her jaw then her breast all the way inside the waistband of her laced panties.

“Oh Logan..”

BAM! The door swings right open. Emma immediately pushes Logan off the bed and he falls to the hardwood floor with a loud thud. She grabs the blanket covering her half naked body.

“What the fuck Mona, don’t you knock? People are half naked over here!”

Mona snorts. “Oh please if I see something I haven’t seen before, I’ll throw a dollar at it.”

“What do you want, Mona?” Logan scowls.

“Boss wants to see you before you go out. I suggest you put on some pants before you do.” She grins.

Logan rolls his eyes at Mona before gathering his scattered clothes off the floor. He puts his jeans and shirt back on then heads out the door.

“Piece of advise Em, next time you and pretty boy over there are having at it, make sure you lock the door first. Wouldn’t want the wrong person barging in.”

*****

At the movies Emma and Riya stares at a poster that’s currently featured on the wall. Both the ladies were waiting for the guys to buy their popcorn and drinks. “Is it just me or does Matt Rodriquez looks like he doesn’t age?” Emma admiringly said with her arms crossed.

“I think he could be in his 50’s and still look like his in his late 30’s” Riya replied then turns to see if the guys were done but someone else catches her eye. “Um.. Emma, is it just me or does that guy over there remind you of Colt Kaneko?”

Emma’s breath hitched when she heard his name. Maybe Riya is mistaken, she hasn’t seen him in like forever. Emma slowly turns to where Riya is looking her eyes go wide. Holy Crap, it’s really him. What the hell is he doing here? “Emma are you alright?” But Riya’s words go unheard as she stomps over towards Colt.

“Colt? What are you doing here?”

Colt gives a half shrug. “Why else would someone go to the movies?”

“Wait, why does it sound like the two of you have already met before?” Riya asks with a confused look on her face.

“Well yeah, it’s hard not to run into each other when you live and work under the same roof.” Colt replies then arches an eyebrow at Riya. “I thought you knew?”

Emma closes her face with the palm of her hand, in the weeks since Colt arrived she didn’t mention any of it not even once to Riya during their calls or when they texted.

“Oh really?” Riya turns to Emma quirking an eyebrow at her. “Huh.. Must have slipped my mind.”

A few seconds later a young petite brunette approaches Colt and hooks her arm around his. “Sorry for keeping you waiting, the line at the restroom was just a total nightmare.” She smiles, turning her attention to Emma and Riya, eyeing them from head to toe. “I’m sorry'' Who are you?”

Colt gently slips his arm out from the brunette before introducing them. “Jean, this is Emma and Riya. Their friends of mine back when I lived in LA. Emma and Riya meet Jean, she also goes to MIT.”

“Ah so you two go to school together?” Emma chimes in. “Are you here for summer break?”

“Only for a few days.. Colt promised he’d show me around if I was ever in town.” She replies, looking fondly at Colt. “He sort of owes me after helping him with his robotics project last semester.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll have lost of fun if Colt’s your tour guide.” Emma gives Jean a gingerly smile before giving Colt a look. I hope you fall and hurt yourself, you asshole!

Just then Logan and Darius saunter towards the group holding two large buckets popcorn and a few soft drinks. When Logan notices Colt, he glares at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Not here to see you, if that’s what you’re implying” He answers in a disdain tone then turns to Darius. “Darius, haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Colt Kaneko? it’s been so long! Man I’d give you a hug but my hands are tied.” He gestured to the tub of popcorn and drinks in his hand. “How long have you been in town?”

“Okay! While I’d love to see where this reunion is going, don’t forget we have a movie to catch which starts in like 2 minutes.” Emma quickly interrupted. If she had to be in the same place as Colt and his date she’d just lose it. This couldn't get any worse. But she spoke too soon, turns out Colt and his date were watching the same movie too and they were seated right in front of her and Logan. She couldn't keep her eyes off Colt and Jean the whole time, she practically almost missed the first half of the movie. What was it that was bugging her so much?

Halfway towards the end of the movie, Emma sees Jean slowly cozying up to Colt and she didn't know what came over her next but she abruptly gives a strong kicks on Colt's Chair making a thud sound startling him and his date. They both turn to look at her with their eyebrows raised while Logan eyes her suspiciously. "Sorry… I got excited from the scene." She said dryly.

Colt whispers something into his date's ear then shortly after he gets up and walks out of the theatre. Emma anxiously taps her fingers on the arm of the chair. Where does he think he's going?! "Hey I’m out of milk duds." She lied.

“Want me to go out and get some more?”

“No, I’ll get them myself. I need a quick run to the ladies room anyway.” She said giving him a chaste kiss before going out. Emma scans around the hall to see where Colt went. When she does she quickly follows him not realizing where he went. "What do you think you’re doing?!”

"Christ! Emma what are you doing in here?!" Colt jumps up, quickly zipping his pants. "You do know this is the men's room right?"

Holy shit! He's right! It's alright you've been in more humiliating situations before. "Don't change the subject, why are you following me?"

"Uh…I’m not the one in the mens room?" He gives her a sly grin. "What’s this really about, Emma?"

“I.. I don’t know what you mean.” She mumbled nervously with her eyes downcast. Colt scoffed. “You know exactly what I mean.. Did you think I wouldn't notice you intentionally kicking the back of my head just as things between me and Jean were getting comfy? Just admit it Em, you’re jealous.”

Don’t let him get to you. “As if…” She replied with a scoff. “I see something’s haven’t changed, Colt. You’re still as narcissistic as ever.”

“And you still can’t lie to me even if your life depended on it.” He retorts, stepping closer towards her. She could feel her heart pounding as he stands right in front of her, their body’s barely an inch away from each other. Once again they found themselves in the same position as the night before, both gazing into each other’s eyes with a sense of longing and their lips only one move away from a kiss. Do it already, just kiss me.

Colt takes one more step forward slowly leaning in, Emma could feel her heart pounding fast. She closes her eyes ready for what's about to come when she hears the sound of something being pulled out. She opens her eyes and see Colt taking a few pieces of toilet paper from the dispenser behind her. “You were in the way.”

She immediately felt her cheeks flush but tries to hide how embarrassed she was. “Okay.. So I need to go back to the movie before my boyfriend who I love very much gets worried.” She turns on her heels and bites her tongue hoping he wouldn’t notice that she thought he was going to kiss her because the last thing she needed was to be humiliated by Colt.

****

After the movies Emma, Logan, Riya and Darius continued their double date for dinner at a new korean restaurant. They were greeted by a waitress who started taking their orders. “Emma what are you going to order? Logan asked.

But Emma was too busy paying attention to her phone, stalking Colt’s date on pictagram to bother with everyone else around her. So she goes to MIT with Colt and She’s a sophomore. Originally from Boston. Urgh.. She’s a cat person! Well that would never work because Colt’s allergic to cats, plus he’s a dog person just like me. A new picture pops up on her pictagram. No he didn’t is that Barry’s Ice Cream shop? He took her to our favorite ice cream shop! Wait there is no reason to be jealous you’ve taken Logan there plenty of times.

“Earth to Emma!” She finally snaps out of it Her thoughts.“Huh what?”

“It’s your turn to order..” Riya glares at her.

“Oh right um.. So I’ll have the bulgogi and kimchi fried rice and some green tea.” She tells the waitress and hands her back the menu, when she looks around the table everyone is staring at her in a curious way. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No but are you okay? You’ve been acting weird since we left the movies?” Logan asks with a concerned look on his face. “I’m fine..” She sputters. “I need to use the restroom.. Excuse me one moment.”

“I just realized I need to use the restroom too.” Riya said following Emma from behind. When they reach the washroom Emma lets out a loud growl while Riya gives her a questionable look. “Okay what’s going on?” She crosses her arms. “You’ve been acting all weird since we saw Colt at the movies. Which by the way, you didn’t mention was back in town and not only that his dad happens to be your boss?”

“It slipped my mind okay? Besides, I didn’t think it was a big deal that I needed to tell you.”

“Not a big deal? Emma, this is not just some other guy you just met. It’s Colt Kaneko we’re talking about. He was your best friend, he was the first guy you ever loved.”

“We.. We were just kids. Those feelings, they were just part of some teenage phase and I’m over it.”

“Oh really?” Riya gives Emma a pointed look. “Is that why you’ve been stalking his date since we left the movie?”

Emma let out a nervous snort. “I have not.”

“Prove it..” Riya gives Emma a challenging stare with her arms folded on her waist. Emma finally admits defeat and tell every single detail that’s been going on since Colt came back and Riya listens intently.

*******************************

Meanwhile back at their table Logan and Darius both gives each other a questionable look as the girl's head to the washroom. “What was that all about?” Darius asks. “Beats me.” Logan snorts

“So I’ve been meaning to ask you, how do you know Colt?”

“Colt? I met him in 7th grade through Emma. They were pretty inseparable as kids all the way through middle school.” He replies and takes a sip of his drink. “I gotta say Logan, I admire you for being the bigger man.”

“For what?” Logan raises his eyebrows.

“Well you know? Because of their history together? They were practically each other’s first love. Colt even gave her this really expensive bracelet he worked hard for during the summer for her birthday.”

Darius words hit Logan like a knife to the heart, he’s asked Emma before if she and Colt were ever more than just friends and she looked him in the eye and lied to his face. But why? Why would she do that? When Darius realizes that Logan had no idea his eyes go wide open. “Oh man, I’m sorry I thought you knew. Crap Emma is so going to kill me and Riya is..”

“Riya is what?” Riya suddenly interrupts as she approaches the booth with Emma following behind her. “What have you boys been talking about?” She asks as they both plopped back on their seats. Darius looks at Logan who subtly shake his head. “N..Nothing.” He sputters. “I was just telling Logan how excited you always get during our double dates.”

“Huh… and here I thought you boys might have some hot gossip.”

“Oh there was alright.” Logan mutters in a barely audible tone. He stayed quiet for the rest of their time at the restaurant only replying not more than three words when being asked a question. All he could think about was how betrayed he felt, if she lied about this what else did she lie about? So many questions and doubts ran through his mind but he wasn’t going to make a scene while Darius and Riya were around. It’ll just have to wait when they get back.

*************

The ride back to the loft was awkwardly quiet, Logan didn't feel like talking after what he found out. Emma could feel the tension like something was bothering Logan, he was perfectly fine before she came out of the restroom after her little chat with Riya.

“So… The food at the restaurant was actually really good.” She said trying to break the silence but Logan just stays quiet. “We should go back there sometime, there’s still so many things I want to try.” But she only got a shrug from him as a reply.

They finally reach the auto shop,normally Logan would have his arms around her and they’d make out abit before stepping out but this time was different, without saying a word Logan immediately exits the car slamming the door behind and stomps straight to the loft. Emma quickly follows him from behind. What’s gotten into him?

“Logan what’s going on? You’ve been quiet all night, it’s not like you.” But he still doesn’t answers, his back still facing her. “Please Logan, talk to me. I’m worried.” She stepped closer to him and places a hand on his arm but he shrugs it off.

After a moment he finally spoke in a weak voice. “I love you Em.”

“And I love you, Logan.”

“Then why did you lie to me about Colt?” Emma takes a step back feeling caught off guard by his question. Shit! “You.. You know? How?”

“Darius accidentally let it slip. How long were you planning on lying to me?” Why did you?” I looked you in the face Emma! I asked you and you lied to me!” He snaps, a hurtful look on his face.

“I… I don’t know.. I guess I was afraid.” She said with her eyes downcast while fidgeting with the bracelet on her hand. Logan had a point why did she lie? She had no reason to, she knew Logan would understand and yet she chose to hide the truth from him.

“Afraid? Afraid of what?”

“You and Colt don’t exactly see eye to eye, I didn’t want to make things worse by letting you know our history. Plus it was all in the past and Colt was bound to leave after summer break.. I just.. Please Logan I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She pleads with tears welling in her eyes, her hand still unconsciously fidgeting with the bracelet that Colt gave her, which Logan noticed and then it hits him. “He gave you that didn’t he? That’s the bracelet Darius mentioned.” Emma stops and gives him a regretful look. “You’ve had that since the day we first met.”

“It doesn’t mean anything, it's just an accessory.”

“When you lost it the other day, you almost went crazy just looking for it. That doesn't feel like just an accessory to me. Just tell me the truth Emma, after all this time do you still love him?”

“I’ve known Colt for almost all my life but I’m with you now and I love you, Logan.” She said stepping towards his to reach for his hand but he swipes it away.

“That’s not an answer, just look me in the eye and tell me the truth for once Emma, are you still in love with Colt?” His was voice stern but his eyes shows a different emotion, sadness.

“I… I don’t … I don’t know.” She sputters as tears start to well in her eyes. Why was it so hard to just say no?

Logan takes a step back, running his hands through his hair while his eyes pointedly looks away. At that moment he could feel his heart shattered into a million pieces but he takes a deep breath and quickly pulls himself together. “I think we need to take a break. I’m going away for a few days for a job maybe a week. We should both just use that time to think about what we really want.” He said and walks towards the door stopping mid way to look over his shoulder. “I’ll be sleeping downstairs on the couch tonight, good night Emma.”

************************************************

Rod - @liamzigmichael4ever @client-327 @brightpinkpeppercorn @lovehugsandcandy @lilyofchoices @rideorparadise @zaffrenotes @queenkaneko @mskaneko @pintsizedelle @flowerpowell @desiree-0816 @emceesynonymroll @kinkykingliam @jlpplays1 @annekebbphotography @thecordoniandiaries @cora-nova @rainbowsinthestorm @princess-geek @leelee10898 @herladyshipxx @emichelle @kimmiedoo5 @dawn-1994 @choicesarehard

[justjessame]

Babysitting Butcher Chapter 33

I talked my options over with the medical professionals that seemed to come and go like waves. The bulking machine that was being used to clean my blood of the impurity of whatever variation was added to me without my permission wasn’t something I planned on installing in my house, or any home I ended up in. Since my specialty wasn’t in physical medicine, I asked, hoping against hope that there was a portable option. One that would allow me to have a life, maybe not the one I’d gotten used to, but one that I could settle into and live a life that was my own, at least until the inevitable.

Billy had gone, once he realized that I was certain of the outcome and of my answer to it. It hurt worse to see the pain on his face, than it did to know that I was right about what I told him. To see how hard he took the idea that I knew how he felt about supes, regardless of their origin, wasn’t something I took pleasure in. I wished- No, I couldn’t do that, dwell on what could have been.

Instead, I spoke to the doctors and lab rats. How could I get back to the real world, but keep the possible fallout of my new additions at bay? They tossed out ideas, having tried a few times to see how long I could go without my blood being cleansed on a constant loop. The longest, and it was touch and go, was twenty-four hours. Then the fever hit hard and fast, the vertigo came rushing over me, and the spots in my vision made me almost wish for blindness. I even began bleeding again, but not from the same place that erupted in my former office. Knowing this particular weakness, and the possibility that it wouldn’t end well for me or anyone near me, they discussed it for days and then came back with an option, but one I would have to test in the clinic first.

There were two forms of more portable, so to speak, dialysis. Both meant that I would have to learn to be hands on, literally, in my own treatment and both used my own body as part of it. They warned that given how my body reacted to attempts to neutralize the foreign agent that had been introduced either could be a long shot. After all, one of them reminded me, my own body seemed focused on destroying itself.

Both utilized a catheter, much like one that I already had, but while one necessitated me using gravity to push a fluid that would do basically the same work as the huge machine that I was rarely allowed a break from, the other was a machine version, smaller but same principal. Both were contingent on my participation and both required me being on a strict schedule, stricter than a usual patient of either form.

I agreed to try both, but there was another issue. Even with the pull of being home, they wanted me to understand that I’d still need to come into one of the Vought labs for treatment. The goal remained to neutralize if not remove the dangerous mixture from me, and that wouldn’t change when I left. Telling them I understood had two doctors exchanging a look which I asked about.

“Do you know how far this clinic is from your home?” I shook my head, feeling a wave of nerves. When they told me I nearly fell over to cry, too far of a commute, especially if I had to keep the blood cleanse going on such a strict schedule. “It’s the closest, but there is another option.” They told me about a community, NOT the same as where Becca had raised Ryan, but an actual regular community that happened to be close. I nodded, it was another thing to consider. “Let’s do this a step at a time. We’ll schedule a test for each of the portable dialysis options, then we’ll discuss the next step if it’s something viable.” Another nod from me and they offered one more thing to think about, “there are medical detection dogs, with the signs that occur before you become less stable, that might me something we’ll have to discuss further as well.”

 With food for thought, I sat down with a book instead of my laptop. While I tried to get comfortable and push the idea that I was planning on leaving the care of round the clock health professionals and worse turn my back on everything I’d worked so hard for, it wasn’t nearly as simple as when Sherlock Holmes worked through a mystery.

What would anyone else do if they were sure that they were looking at limited time, not only because of a condition that didn’t seem to be fixable, but because they weren’t completely sure that they could trust the person they loved to NOT help the end along?

 Billy came back the next day, and I felt my heart skip a beat when he ignored the doctors and rushed to me to kiss me completely senseless. “You listen to me, Veronica Taylor,” his breath was hot against my damp lips. “I fucking love you and I could give a shit what’s swimming around in your fucking bloodstream. I could give a fuck if you develop laser eyes and can lift my fucking car with your pinkie.” I swallowed at how fierce he sounded. “I told you before, Ronnie, I CAN’T lose you and I fucking won’t.” And then his lips met mine again, and instead of the hot hunger he started with, this time it was such a slow sweet kiss that I felt like my heart stopped, and when the beeping of the machine took a pause I realized it had, but then the beep returned, strong and steady, just like Billy fucking Butcher.

 He held me, fully clothed of course, in my hospital bed and we talked about the options I’d discussed with the doctors. He listened, his fingers idly stroking my arms while his arms were cradling me to his chest.

“I want to be here when you try it,” I started to remind him of work, but he shushed me. “If one works, Ronnie, I want to know how to do it too, that way I can pick up the slack and it won’t all be on you.” I smiled, feeling a peace that hadn’t come for too long. “And a dog?” I nodded and could tell he was excited, since he had his own dog out there somewhere. “What kind?”

We got my laptop out, and unlike the hopelessness I’d given in to the day before, we searched the internet for more information on dogs who were medically trained to detect chronic illness symptoms, nipping the likelihood of further trauma or worse case scenario in the bud with their ability to alert patient or caretaker to a problem before it got out of hand.

“They’re a bit bigger than Terror,” his dog, I remembered him telling me about him. His lips pressed against my temple as he reached down and used the touchpad to scroll down. “If they can help me keep you healthy, Ronnie, I think we should put in a request.” I smiled, his fingers hitting the contact button on the site we’d found for a group closeby. “Give ‘em a bit of time to make sure they can train it up for your particular needs.”

I put in the information requested and hit send, while reminding Billy that it was all contingent on the treatment from home option working. And he smiled and turned me carefully so our faces were close enough for our noses to touch.

“You are one of the strongest women I’ve EVER met, Veronica,” his hands cupped my face so carefully that I felt more fragile than the thinnest glass. “If anyone can make this work, it’s you.”

 The doctors scheduled my next experiment with Billy’s request to be present in mind. Over the weekend, with a cot in my room just for the man who kept surprising me to use while he both learned along with me and watched me like a hawk to be sure I was alright, we began. I held his hand while they walked us through the first option. The non-machine one, since it was the lowest tech version, and smiled when I saw how intensely he was watching them walk us through the steps.

“The three step process,” our instructor explained, “ takes around thirty to thirty-five minutes total and you’ll have to do it throughout the day. If this option is viable for you, then you’ll also have to wake up to perform it, or it can be paired with the second treatment. How long between treatments will be something we have to work on as well, but first let’s see if it works?”

Billy stopped the doctor before we could get started by asking questions I forgot or missed in my yearning to go home. How would the supplies need to be kept? What were the worst case scenarios if something went wrong while we were home? How long did he have to get me help if the treatment stopped working? Would it be more dangerous for me, to my health, to do this rather than keep coming in for the treatment that I was doing now?

Once his concerns were addressed, in complete detail, the doctor then took me off the whirling machine that I only had minimal breaks from, telling me that unlike someone on dialysis for kidney issues or failure, since mine was simply to circulate and cleanse the blood to keep the foreign bodies at bay and ineffective, that made my complete focus necessary. He didn’t just mean that he wanted to me to learn the steps, he meant that I had to focus on precisely how my body felt. All those questions I hated to answer daily? Those were my gauge for how I was supposed to determine if the treatment was working or not. Whether I felt my temperature going up, the spots returned to my vision, or the vertigo hit me at the wrong moment, it would be up to me to know whether this was still working or not. And it was paramount, given how my body could go supernova and kill not just myself, but who knew how many others, since the range of my area of destruction couldn’t be measured without it happening.

Taking a deep breath and nodding, we got to take a break before the first round of my possible path to escaping the room I’d spent far more time in than I cared to think about. While we waited, Billy asked me if I thought my mom should learn how to perform the treatment too, and like she’d been conjured, she was in the doorway smiling at the two of us.

“You’re not hooked up to that dreadful machine,” her eyes widened with hope, but I shook my head causing her smile to drop and fear to replace her joy. “It’s not-”

Billy told her to take a seat and explained that I hadn’t been cured, but that we were trying something new to see if I could go home. He didn’t mention, and neither did I, that home might be further from the city, and closer to the clinic. One thing at a time.

“Of course I want to learn,” she set her purse down and folded her hands in her lap before she seemed to remember something. “Your father is parking the car,” she sighed, knowing that it was already hard for him to see me sick, but she took a deep breath and straightened her spine and I knew she was about to assert her will. “He should learn too, just in case.”

“And what am I learning, precisely?” My father walked into the room and this time, instead of Billy, Mom explained what was coming.

 My parents and Billy watched as the doctor, hours later when I felt the first twinge that my body was rebelling against me, walked me through the first trial. The bag of fluid, the connection to the accessory that Billy’s agreement during my unconsciousness had given me, and the power of gravity while my family watched and took notes, both mental and physical.

The first trial, actually walking me through it and showing me how to hold the bag up and wait while it utilized gravity to work its medical magic, took longer than it would if it became the option that I’d use at home the doctor promised.

“First time is always longer,” she smiled, reassuring me as the fluid dripped into me. “We chose the lighter, more flexible catheter hoping it wouldn’t be permanent, which makes this transition easier.” My mom and dad asked their own questions, knowing that Billy wouldn’t be available constantly, even if he wanted to since I would push him back to work. As the doctor answered, showing them step by step again, while Billy took the bag from my hand to give my arm a rest.

“You’re doing great, Ronnie,” he whispered, giving me a soft kiss. “Just think, this could be our new foreplay.” He was teasing and I knew it.

“Gotta say, Butcher, this is a very fucked up way to get me wet.” I winked at him as he chuckled quietly. “I love you, and I’m sorry about-”

“Nothing to be sorry for, love.” Our eyes met and everyone heard the change in my heart rhythm. We ignored the soft laughter of our audience, so focused on our little bubble. “You wrote the book on me, Ronnie, but you missed a chapter.” I raised my eyebrow, knowing I was wrong, so wrong about his love for me, but I was curious as to what I’d missed. “You missed the part where I am single fucking minded in my love for you. Not a moment goes by that I want whatever that caped cunt forced into your body purged, but never a thought of destroying YOU or your body.” He sounded as fierce as I knew he was and I felt far more confident in him and us. “Until you get sick of me.”

“Never,” I promised, and we kissed again, less soft and sweet and more hungry that we’d allowed ourselves since I woke up from the first hit of the second phase of Homelander’s interference.

 It turned out, after two weekends of further trial and error, that I would be doing a combined effort with peritoneal dialysis. Both the manual and the machine, and as an added bonus I’d get to make at least two trips to the clinic a week for further testing and at least one date with my favorite machine. My parents had come to every single training exercise, shocking me with their commitment to keeping me healthy and when Billy and I, more certain that going home was possible told them that we’d have to move, they took that in stride as well.

“I can hire movers and have them pack up the house,” Mom offered, knowing that Billy would rather be at my side than dealing with those details. “And, if you’d like, I could take a look at that community they told you about-”

The uncertainty in her voice made me realize how much our relationship had changed. Before, she would have gone and chosen the house, put the down payment down and had the paperwork ready before I’d fully made the choice to move. Now she was asking permission. Wow.

“What if we went together?” I think I surprised her as much as she did me. “The doctors have been talking to me about more trials, shorter but to make sure that I can handle it on my own, why not a trip out to have a look? It would make me feel more productive-” I sighed, and Billy’s fingers linked with mine.

 “You are productive,” his lips were against my temple in the soothing gesture that he knew helped me the most. “Told you that the others have nearly cleared the list of unknowns. Done more sit downs with supes than I ever wanted to contend with, and you were there virtually for most of them.”

I’d started, once I was feeling more hopeful about getting released back to some normalcy, joining Billy during his meetings with supes via video chat. While the supes didn’t see me, I didn’t feel up to fixing myself up to that point while wearing my attractive nightgowns, Billy could and I kept him even keeled and soothed the more frazzled nerves of some of those supes that hadn’t wanted to be found. And I’d gone back to researching both Homelander’s misdeeds, and the mysterious head popper’s true identity.

“Of course you are,” my dad kicked in. “You’re still the head of that office, Veronica, this is all just a little hiccup.” His reassurance was welcome and just as shocking as my mom’s uncertainty in helping us relocate. Who knew it would take the possibility of dying to bring us all together?

[xxsovereignsarayaxx]

A King Needs His Queen - The Originals (Chapter 4)

“True love is like playing chess the King may be the most important piece on the board however the Queen is the most powerful and dangerous as she performs more moves than any other. The Queen will always protect her King.” Word Count: Warnings: 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

We left Marcel at the bar and we walked hand in hand down the street. It was pitch black and the streets were only lit by the streetlights that were all lined up like soldiers. "I can't remember the last time we did this" I say to Nik.

"Well we have all the time in the world for me to make it up to you." He tells me. We carried on walking and we arrived at a small clearing. When Nik spins me around to face him, he brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Mrs Mikaelson? Will you dance with me?" Nik asks me with a smirk.

"Of course Mr Mikaelson" I chuckle.

We stepped apart a little and just looked at each other for a few moments I put my hand on his cheek and just looked at him in his eyes, they were so beautiful the dark blue-green colour complimented his pearly white skin, and dirty blonde hair. I ran my hand down his right arm and grasped his hand softly and we began to sway. "I love you so much" Nik mumbles in my ear, his hot breath tickled my ears.

"I love you too" I whisper. As we swayed Nik lets one of my hands go and twirls me around and brings me back towards him his head now resting on my shoulder.

"Lets go somewhere a little more private" Nik whispers his lips pressed against my ear. And with that he takes my hand once more and we run through the empty streets of New Orleans, towards the hotel room I once was staying in when Elijah freed me from my slumber. Once the door was closed sparks flew between me and Nik. He pushes me against the door and pressed his hips against my own and I felt the full effect I still had on him even after all these years of being married.

"After all of these years I still have the same effect on you" I say seductively, biting my bottom lip.

"I should blame you for the monster you make me Elizabeth" Nik growls at me, his arms caged me to the door and he smashes his lips into mine, I was completely at his mercy my mind fogged by pure pleasure as he moved from my lips to my neck. The room with filled with soft moans and the sound of fumbling getting clothing of each others bodies as quickly as we could. Nik returned to my mouth and used one of his free hands to softly grab a part of my hair to allow him to deepen the kiss. We break away and I push from his hold and push him to the bed and crawl into his lap straddling him, kissing him how he kissed me and continued down his neck, my hands went to the bottom of his shirt and lifted it up over his head and fling-ed it somewhere in the room. As I carried on kissing down his neck and torso he threw his head back in ecstasy, I smirked against his skin at his actions. Using his speed Nik flips up over.

"You are my Queen, let me show you how I should of treated you." Nik says in hushed tone. His fingers graze over my skin.

"A King worships his Queen, but I have no idea where I should start..." He says and then nips at my neck.

"Here?" he nips the lower part of my stomach.

"Or here?" As he stops near my covered entrance.

Nik lies on his back twisted in the sheets of the hotel bed, I lay on my front tracing the outline of his abs gently with my fingers. He runs his hands through my silky black hair. "Can I ask you something?" I say to him.

"You already did" Nik teased.

"Ever the jester, but why didn't you dagger me like you did your siblings?" I ask softly.

"Do you remember our wedding vows?" Nik replies. I nodded

1539 - England I stood in the entrance to the church seeing Nik at the end of the isle, I wasn't going to lie I was very nervous, scared I would mess up my vows to him. He looked absolutely handsome and I couldn't wait to become his wife and live out our eternity together. Nik was stood with Kol while I had no remaining family Elijah offered to walk me I clung onto him for dear life. When we finally joined the rest of my soon to be family Rebekah was at my side and gently squeezed my hand.

"Elizabeth Priston, wilt thou have this man to be thy husband, and wilt thou pledge thy faith to her, in all love and honor, in all duty and service, in all faith thou pledge thy safety and tenderness, no finger shall be laid upon you while I cease to walk this earth, to live with her and cherish her, according to the ordinance of God, in the holy bond of marriage?"

"I, Elizabeth Priston, take you Niklaus Mikaelson, to be my wedded husband, and I do promise and covenant, before God and these witnesses, to be your loving and faithful wife, in plenty and want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.

"I promised you that no finger would ever come across you, that also meant my own. I would never hurt you, hence why I got a witch to preform a desiccation spell. I couldn't bring myself to plunge one of those daggers into your heart. All I ever wanted to do was protect you love, I hope you can understand that" Nik says quietly.

"We were always stronger together, I could have helped you, I was never one to hold you back from your curse" I say to him.

"It was far too dangerous though love, the doppelgänger and her band of merry men tried on many occasions to kill me. If they knew about you then they would have used you against me, if they succeeded in hurting you in any way I don't know what I would have done. I can't lose you again love." Nik says to me, I lean over to him and plant a small kiss to his lips.

"Nik? What happened to Finn and Kol? I noticed there coffins are not present at the house, when we were looking Elijah." I ask.

"I'm sorry my love but there no longer with us." He tells me my brows furrow together.

"Who is responsible?" I ask in a small whisper.

"I can't tell you, your temper is just as fiery as mine if not worse, even though I'm fond to a fight. A war path at the moment is not wise." Nik tells me sternly.

"Yes dear... Whatever you say dear." I tease playfully.  

While we were still lying in bed Nik had received a phone call from Marcel, apparently he wanted Nik to join him to deal with the two humans that were in transition. Marcel had asked Nik that I remain out of the way much to my my distaste. But I had other matters that needed seeing too. I had some business speaking with one of the witches of the Quarter I needed a little spell casting and I hoped that Nik could keep Marcel busy long enough.

Both me and Nik parted ways and said our brief goodbyes he made his way to join his friend I made my way to find the witches responsible for waking me from my slumber, that witch was Sophie Deveraux. I arrived at the bar she normally worked at and took a seat. It turned out to be a slow night for the bar and there were not many customers in, which would be perfect for discussing business. I turned my head and clocked the witch cleaning out glasses at the other end of the bar.

"Sophie, darling don't suppose I could have a quick word?" I ask her politely.

"Elizabeth... What do I owe the pleasure? Not here to kill  me are you? As that would be a very, very dumb move..." She replies sarcastically.

"No, no-one dies tonight, its not on my schedule but I do have a favor to ask. In return I shall help keep Marcel and the other vampires busy." I tell her.

"You've peeked my interest, what can I do for you?" Sophie asks.

"Well, many many years ago I was made stronger by a witch, a witch who also used the same magic as you - ancestral. This allowed me to have the same strength, speed and healing as Elijah, Rebekah and Niklaus before he broke his hybrid curse. Unfortunately though nothing lasts forever and I can feel myself getting weaker, I'm becoming your average vampire... I need you or any other of the coven of witches here to preform the spell so I can have a slight revenge vacation. Away from here of course so your not in danger. I can give you the spell I just need your word." I tell her.

"I need to know a little more about this spell and what is does to you before I will commit to this. Need to know what I'm getting into" Sophie replies.

"Well what do you wish to know?" I ask playfully.

"What exactly does it do to you?"

"Well as I said before I match the same strength, speed and healing as an original vampire. The only way I can die is either a white oak stake or have my head or heart removed. The thing I lack is the ability to compel other vampires. But like any other spell a witch can cast it and they can un-cast it don't worry even this has its draw backs. But I trust you, you helped awaken me. I have no reason to doubt you of all people will stab me in the back, but let me make one thing perfectly clear, you think Niklaus has a bad temper? Mine is much worse. Now? Are you going to help me?" I tell her.

I made my threat very clear but ended in a nice sweet tone, allowing her to realize what kind of person I am. I am not someone to be messed with, I am what they say a force to be reckoned with.

After the conversation with Sophie she agreed to help me and cast the spell herself on the condition that I keep Niklaus in check. Which I could do. We stood in the cemetery where the magic would be at it's strongest and handed her the spell to which she read and handed back to me. She told me she would need to make a slight alteration to which I agreed for. Sophie lights the candles she needs and begins the spell.

"Eu chamo sobre a terra, os antepassados me dar o poder para o vampiro em frente de mim, para dar-lhe prolongada de energia, de acordo com os acima dela. Mas por um tempo limitado a próxima lua cheia vai ser a causa de grande dor e sofrimento para a sua família."

It had been nearly 350 years since I last heard the spell and yet I didn't care that I was asking a witch for help once more. I must protect myself and my family again.

The heels to my knee high boots clicked on the concrete as I walked up to the Salvatore House, after having a long discussion over the phone with Nik mainly him being displeased by my choice of actions to confront the doppelganger and her friends regarding the death of Kol and Finn. I had debated on bringing him with me but I had plans to play a few games with my new play toys. My sadistic and playful nature had returned to me and I relished in it.

At present I was stood on the outer side of the Salvatores front door contemplating whether to play the sweet and innocent girl or just walk in like I owned the place. I went with the latter and just walked in, lucky for me everyone who I wanted to see was present and all turned to look at me. I had my sunglasses on my face and seductively removed them and threw them on the floor.

"I'm looking for a doppelganger, her brother and the Salvatore siblings and it seems I'm in luck I have found you" I say in a flirty tone.

Taking some more steps towards the group who seemed to be on edge regarding my presence."Haven't you heard of knocking?" A black haired vampire snapped.

"Oh I do apologize, forgive me I'm a little out-dated, behind on the times but when I was born we never had the luxuries of doorbells or those fancy ass knockers you have on your door. It's quite marvelous really but I digress." I tease.

"Who are you?" The doppelganger asks.

"Now that is for me to know and you to find out, but I shall warn you now, Stefan is it? Whatever you have planned with that stake you have behind your back really wont work." I say looking towards Stefan as he retreats backwards.

"Lets cut to the chase and I will ask again, who are you? Why are you here?" The black haired vampire asks me sounding slightly pissed.

"Well then seems like all the pleasantries have gone out of the window, I guess I should inform you why I'm here. You all killed members of my family. I'm here for some revenge." I say sweetly.

"Oh honey! Your going to have to be a lot more specific then that. I've killed a lot of people in my time, you saying I've killed members of your family isn't going to quite cut it to get my memory going." Damon says sarcastically.

I stride over to the group and fall into the sofa, I sit on something... a mobile phone and fling that on the ground. "Well lets give you a piece to this puzzle then. Finn and Kol Mikealson names ring a bell? I bet they do" I sang. I smiled knowing that I was winning. I noticed the doppelganger took a large breath in. She was very nervous. Good.          

"The psychotic hybrid never mentioned another sister..." Damon says. I swallowed and looked at him.

"Well your correct there. Keep going" I encouraged.

"Your married?" The doppelganger asks as she looked at my hand seeing my wedding ring.

"Go on?" I smile.

"Well  logically I doubt it would be Finn or Kol." Stefan starts.

"Yeah Finn was a mummy's boy and I don't think your Kol's type which leaves us three original vampires, highly doubt your into Rebekah which leaves us with two." Damon continues.

"Elijah and Klaus." Stefan finishes.

"Oooo so which one is it?" I say playfully.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say Elijah someone needs to control this amount of crazy." Damon says with a smirk. I sit there and shake my head at the group. I point out that Jeremy is in the room and sped over to him and grab him by the throat. Behind me I hear Elena cry out.

"That psychotic hybrid happens to be my husband, and if either of you boys take another step I will crush his windpipe. Choose carefully." I snap. Elena takes a small step towards me and with a flash I snap Jeremy's neck and falls to the floor with a thud. I flashed my smile.

"I did warn you but I do happen to notice he wears the infamous Gilbert ring so he will live... for now, but I can tell straight off the bat who I will be able to have a proper conversation with so they wont mind me doing this." I add and which that I sped over to Elena and snapped her neck and proceeded to do the same with Damon, which just left me and Stefan stood face to face.

"I understand that you and my husband had a jolly old time in the twenties." I state.

"I wasn't aware that you existed, but there was no need to snap their necks." Stefan tells me.

"I need to have a decent conversation, the doppelganger or your brother simply were not good enough, now back to business. You four killed members of my family and I want revenge and your going to tell me whose heart I'm going to rip out, tick-tock Stefan who is it going to be? Your brother? The doppelganger? The little Gilbert? Yourself? What a noble sacrifice that would be." I reply to him and start strutting around the Salvatore house helping myself to some of the alcohol that was stored nearby.

"Your not going to make me choose..." Stefan starts but the sound of a glass being smashed and my body dropping to the floor interrupts him.

Stefan rushes over to Elizabeth's fallen body to check to see her. He pulls out his phone from his pocket and calls up Klaus. "Stefan Salvatore, what a pleasant surprise what can I do for you?" Nik asks.

"Your wife has collapsed." Stefan starts.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" Niklaus shouts down the phone.

"One moment she was threatening us, next she is unconscious on the floor. Her neck wasn't snapped we never touched her. She was the only one snapping necks around here." Stefan replies calmly.

With that Nik hangs up the phone. Stefan decides to pick Elizabeth's body from the floor and takes her upstairs into one of the guest bedrooms. He places her on the bed carefully. And proceeds to head back downstairs to which Damon starts to stir after recovering from a broken neck.

"Owww... Where is that loony Mikealson? I'm going to kill her" Damon grumbles rubbing his neck.

"That wouldn't be wise Damon, something happened to her. One minute we was talking next shes collapsed." Stefan replies to his brother.

"What do you mean collapsed? Shes a vampire Stef, we don't just collapse." Damon says to his brother.

"Well something has happened Klaus is on his way here." Stefan replies.

"What do you mean Klaus is coming here?" A female voice said in a gruff tone. It was Elena who had woken up and picked herself up from the floor.

"I had to call him, at the end of the day she is Klaus' wife, if she dies he will kill us no doubt about that" Stefan finishes.

"Where is she?" Elena asks.

"Upstairs" Stefan says back, pointing towards the upper floor. Elena takes off and walks upstairs to find the sleeping Mikelason wife. Who laid there peacefully. All is quite in the room when Damon joins her.

New Orleans After coming off the phone with Stefan I was so worried about Elizabeth, why would she have collapsed? She was fine before she left and seemed to be ok when I spoke with her on the phone. I hurried off to find my brother who I recently got un-daggered.  "Elijah I need you to keep and eye on things around here.

"Brother what do you mean?" Elijah asks.

"I must go. That is all I will say on the matter." I replied. Elijah tries to reach out to me I shake him off.

"Niklaus what has happened?" Elijah continues to press me for answers.

"Something has happened to Elizabeth she is not well." I finally admit.

I was so lost already without her. The woman I love with all of my heart almost taken away from me and not by my own doing this time. I was truly hurt and I needed to answers and to see her. I longed for her touch. Her skin on my own. As we once were days before.

"Go to her, bring her home. I will try and get to the bottom of this." Elijah finally says to me after thinking in silence. With that I leave his side and get into my car. Hitting the roads hoping I would get there soon.

Mystic Falls It had been hours since Klaus' wife invaded our home, threatened us and then fell to the floor. I got in touch with a few friends of mine to see if we could put a name to the face but so far nothing. I returned to the parlor to see Damon drinking and standing in front of the fire that was roaring in the background.

"Any luck?" Damon asks me.

I shook my head. "No, did you find anything in her bag?" I ask him.

"A phone with a few contacts in mostly Mikelason's, Elena is going through her bag now." Damon replies.

"Hey, I think I've found something" Elena shouts over to where the dinning table is placed, me and Damon head over to her to see items from the bag are scattered on top of it. There we find a folded piece of paper.

"That has witchy- woo written all over it. I'm not going to get involved in this. No way." Damon says as he walks away.

"I'm going to call Bonnie see if she can help." Elena says as she dials for Bonnie.

"Hey can you come over to the boarding house? We need your help translating a spell." Elena asks. "Ok, see you soon" Elena says as she hangs up the phone.

"Bonnie will get here as soon as she can, but I have an idea though in the meantime what about diving into her head? See if you can find anything out?" She asks.

"It's worth a shot but its best if Damon does that, he is better at it then me." I say to her. Elena starts to place the contents back into the bag, and walks back into the parlor to sit down on the sofa, I follow her and sit on the arm.

"Can you go into her head? See if you can find out anything" I ask Damon.

"I can, but I don't want to" Damon replies back sharply. "Wait for Bon-Bon shes the witch, let her doing the poking around in other peoples brains, then if anything goes wrong Klaus can kill her instead, I would like to keep being the eternal stud thank you very much" He adds sarcastically.

After hearing what Damon had to say Bonnie walks into the house. "Whats going on? You sounded very cryptic over the phone" She asks.

"Long story short. Klaus has a wife, she got mad and came for revenge for us killing Kol and Finn, she passed out. We don't know why and we can't wake her. Found this though." Damon says arrogantly and hands Bonnie the folded up spell and leaves the room. Bonnie takes a seat next to Elena and opens the spell and glances over it.

"I can tell you it's no spell I've seen before, its not in Latin so we're going to have to try and translate it.

We spent a good half the night trying to translate the spell searched hundreds of languages. Nothing made sense to why this woman was in the state she was currently in. But all the piece was interrupted the moment the hybrid stepped through the door.

"Where is she? Where is Elizabeth?" Klaus growls as he storms over and grabs me by my throat.

"Klaus let him go! Elizabeth is upstairs" Elena pleads. With that Klaus removes his grip from my throat and speeds up the stairs to where Elizabeth is resting. I cautiously follow and when I entered the room before me stood a broken man.

A man without his armor as he knelt in front of her. Stroking the hair away from her face. A few tears fell from his face and dropped onto the floor. I would never think that Klaus Mikealson would ever show emotion like this. We only ever imagined him to be heartless and cruel. But Elizabeth she was someone who could bring Klaus to his knees and was a force to be reckoned with 'alive or not'.

[amandaoftherosemire]

Bulletproof -- Part Eight

Fandom: Marvel/College AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Author: @amandaoftherosemire​

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6,327

Format: Series (Complete)

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only!, language, fingering, oral (fem receiving), metal arm kink, unprotected sex (It costs over $200,000 to raise a child to 18. Condoms are, like, a buck a piece. Use a freaking condom.) fluff, angst.

Summary: You finally try Bucky on for size.

A/N: So, I’m working on my smut. Too far? Not far enough? This seemed to me like the filthiest thing I’ve ever written, but I’m a really bad judge of that. The whole chapter is just smut, btw. Very little of consequence happens beyond finally paying off all the angst and slow burn. I hope it was worth it?

Banner by: @hellzzzbelle

Part Seven here

Part Eight

Your lips curved in the sexiest smile Bucky had ever seen. It was the kind of smile that could lure a sailor to his death, he thought. That smile made the next words out of your mouth the most exciting he'd ever heard. "What do ya got?"

Bucky sat up, his hands sliding down to your thighs to grip tight. His voice was husky with what felt like a lifetime’s worth of lust. Perhaps it was; he’d wanted you since before he’d had any idea what wanting meant. “Come with me, babygirl,” his mouth spread in a slow, cocky smirk, “and I’ll give you everything.”

You weren’t proud of it, but you also couldn’t help it; that smirk did things to you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and settled firmly against him, prompting a soft groan from deep in his throat. You thought it was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard.

“Sweet.” You rocked a little against him, trying to prompt that sound again, but your voice was dry and sarcastic around the excitement. You wanted to remind Bucky who he was dealing with. “Are you going to take me where the magic happens, show me what all the fuss is about?”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed. The cords of his neck were too alluring, seeming to beckon you to test them with your teeth. “Fuck me if I know why that smart mouth—” he broke off for a moment to hum at the feel of said mouth exploring his throat— “just makes me want you more.”

“Can I fuck you if you don’t know why?” Your breath whispered across his ear and sent a shiver down his spine. He’d had no idea dry sarcasm could be so fucking sexy. He should have guessed you’d have a debauched and dirty mind to match the deliciously sexy body.

“Please?” he snorted. “And thank you?”

You pulled back to grin cheerfully into his face, delighted with him. “You’re more than welcome.” With that you began to twist your body and gesture with your head in the direction of his bedroom, eyebrows wiggling over a playful smile.

“I just got new sheets, sugar,” his voice went low on the endearment, and desire shivered through you, “wanna help me break ‘em in?” The laugh trembling around his smirk told you he was trying to call your bluff.

However, you weren’t bluffing. Your voice a wry monotone, you smirked back at him. “Bucky, you romantic fool. Take me now.” You then dropped the act and smiled happily at him, grateful that he was playing along and letting you keep it light. “But, no, that’d be great,” you chuckled. “I’d love to break in your new sheets with you.”

You couldn’t help it. Some weird possessive part of you was happy that his sheets would smell like you tomorrow and no one else tonight.

Bucky was still laughing when your mouth met his for the first time in years. You couldn’t resist; his genuine happiness in you was alluring in a way you’d forgotten. He’d always adored you because of all the things other people loved you in spite of. The taste of his kiss was beautifully colored by his laughter and made the shield around your heart that much weaker.

Then he was taking control, his tongue tangling and curling around yours, and you weren’t thinking of anything but survival. The blast of heat that swept through you was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, not even the last time you and he were alone on a couch together.

Bucky had anticipated that he would want to drown in you once his mouth met yours, and he wasn’t wrong. He’d known you could drive him to madness with just a kiss thanks to the memory of how hot you’d burned that night before Gamora had interrupted. As a matter of fact, that night was seared with almost painful clarity upon his mind.

He hadn’t anticipated, however, how the years would have changed you, refined you. Though the memory of the almost innocent sensuality of that girl would remain one of his favorites, he preferred the woman currently in his lap, confident and powerful in her sexuality. The girl had been smoking hot; the woman was scorching.

Bucky stood suddenly, and the utter ease with which he held you as he walked back towards his bedroom had your heart stuttering in astonished arousal. The grip of his warm hands firm around the backs of your thighs had you tearing your mouth from his to rest your forehead on his shoulder and pant. The words he was muttering had you chuckling even as your thighs tightened in excited response.

"Not gonna fucking risk someone walking in on us again, babygirl," he was murmuring into the curve of your neck, the movement of his lips sending shivers over your skin. You tore the tie from his hair to bury your hands in the thick silk of it. Bucky was almost purring when he reached his bedroom door and kicked it open, then shut again once he'd taken you through.

Bucky turned and sat on the edge of the bed, settling you into his lap. "God himself couldn't stop me from having you now," he growled, then took your mouth once more.

You sank in with a hum of pleasure as with lips and tongues and teeth you explored Bucky's mouth. He seemed equally enthralled with memorizing the exact texture of your lips, the precise flavor of your breath. You'd wanted to find out if kissing Bucky was as devastating as you remembered. It wasn't.

It was worse.

Bucky devoured you, but with a gentle voracity that had you trembling against him. His soft, plump lips brushed and clung to yours, taking your bottom lip between his to suckle softly. You whimpered in your throat and his hands moved up from your thighs to wrap around your back. His flesh hand cupped the back of your head while his metal hand closed around your ass.

You started to rock against him, brushing your breasts against the firm wall of his chest, your hands still buried in his hair as you sucked greedily on his tongue. Bucky was purring in his throat, something you knew was going to haunt your sex dreams for years to come. He tore his mouth from yours to bury his face in your throat. His mouth raced over your skin, licking, sucking, biting your neck and shoulders. You arched, moaning into him, and his teeth sank into your skin in response.

"God," you heard him muttering against the curves of your breasts, "so fucking sweet and hot. Sexiest fucking woman on the planet, I swear to god."

You chuckled throatily and felt Bucky's hand squeeze your ass. You used your hand in his hair to pull his head back and smirk into the searing blue of his eyes, hot with lust. You nipped at his bottom lip, then scrambled to your feet. His arms tightened for a fraction of a second, like he didn't want to let you go. In the next moment, however, you were standing in front of him, untying the straps at your shoulders to let your dress fall to the floor.

Bucky would swear his mouth literally watered at the sight of you smiling in nothing but all your luscious skin and a matching bra and underwear set made of unbelievably sexy blue lace. He wasn't certain what that shade was called, but it seemed to glow against your skin. The shy yet sultry look on your face made him want to get down on his knees and thank god for feminine wiles.

"Babygirl," he almost moaned, and the knowledge that he was as turned on as you were only heightened your arousal, "I haven't come in my jeans since a tickle fight with you when we were fourteen, but looking at you now might change that. Fuck." He breathed out the expletive. "So goddamn pretty."

Bucky was making you feel like the sexiest woman to ever walk the planet and it gave you the courage to walk forward. Rather than taking your place back in his lap, however, you climbed on all fours onto his bed, crossing the queen mattress on your hands and knees. As you turned to settle against the pillows, you saw Bucky staring at your ass with a gaze so heated you were surprised you couldn't feel the warmth on your skin. He looked like he was contemplating leaning forward and taking a bite.

As a matter of fact, he was, utterly enthralled with the coquette he'd found in you. Bucky loved to see you like this, comfortable in your sensuality. You'd settled into a seductive position against his pillows, one arm over your head, one knee bent in invitation. Bucky was only too happy to accept.

He followed your lead and crawled over you until he was settled along your side. Leaning over you, he kissed you as the hand he wasn't braced on wandered your body hungrily. You were sucking on his tongue again, which drove him crazy and made him rock against your hip. Even through his clothes, that small stimulation coupled with the feel of his hand on your breast was almost too exciting.

The sounds you were making were, no question, the hottest he'd ever heard. Your body was undulating and rocking against his and your hands were sliding up inside his shirt, baring his skin as they went so that you could brush your bare skin against his. Knowing it was you he was touching only heightened his pleasure, so joyous was the feeling of years-long, desperate cravings finally fulfilled.

You pulled Bucky's t-shirt off over his head, then spread your fingers over his chest and abdomen, tracing the ridges of muscle with worshipful fingers. Bucky lifted his head from yours to watch you with glittering eyes. Once your mouth was free, your eyes popped open to immediately drop to Bucky's bared chest. The ropes of scar tissue where he'd lost the arm, where his prosthetic arm met his shoulder, were beautiful to you and received your gentlest touch. They were proof of his survival, something to which you could attach your everlasting gratitude.

"Every time I see you without your shirt, my fingertips itch to touch you," you whispered.

Bucky's hand started wandering again, his touch lighting fires under your skin wherever he touched. "What do you think would happen if I take off my pants?" he asked slyly.

You laughed, and even though one hand continued to wander freely over his chest, shoulder, and arms, the other dropped to the button at his waistband. "I'm a scientist," you said seriously, "which means I live for empirical data."

His mouth quirked at the corner even as his hand slipped under the cup of your bra to rasp his palm against your nipple. "Meaning?" he asked even as you arched and moaned.

"Only one way to find out," you retorted as you pulled his zipper down and pushed at his waistband.

Bucky laughed and rolled over to cheerfully kick off his jeans. You sat up and unhooked your bra, tossing it to the floor. You could see well enough, now that your eyes had adjusted in the light from the streetlamp flooding in through the uncovered window. You couldn't explain it, but Bucky was unreasonably beautiful to you even in the sickly orange light.

You didn't know he was thinking along similar lines, his eyes roving over the sight of you bared to his gaze for the first time. You had on that shy, sultry look again. Bucky was starting to think that look should be declared a weapon; he was fairly certain you could get him to do anything with it. Tempted beyond endurance and not interested in resisting any longer, he sat up to lean over you, taking one of your breasts into his mouth even as his hand cupped and kneaded the other.

You arched eagerly into his mouth and hands, the shivers and shimmers of need pouring through your body and out of your throat in moans and whines of desperation. Your hands had covered every inch of his shoulders, back, arms, and chest and had begun to wander below his waist, your hands squeezing his deliciously tight ass. He moaned against your breast, encouraging you to slide your hands beneath the waistband of his underwear.

Bucky knew that if he didn't get control of the situation he was going to end up coming before he even got inside you. He rolled over on top of you, settling between your legs on his knees, one hand braced beside your head, the other plumping and kneading your breasts as he watched you writhe beneath him. He could hardly believe this moment was real, that it was you under his hands. He wanted to commit it to memory, certain you, in nothing but your skin and a scrap of lace around your hips, was the most erotic sight he'd ever seen.

You had no interest in being a passive recipient of Bucky's passion. You had every intention of giving as good as you got. To that end, you slid one arm around his neck to pull his head down, offering your mouth to his.

Bucky didn't resist, but moved slowly so that he could enjoy the sight of you like this that much longer. He'd imagined how you'd look in this moment thousands of times. His imagination hadn't even come close. You were so much more gorgeous, the reality of you so much more vibrant than he could have ever dreamed.

He'd known that your eyes would draw him in, but he'd had no idea that the shine of desire would lure him so sweetly. He hadn't anticipated that the sounds you'd make in response to his touch would beckon him like siren song. He couldn't have known that the velvet softness of your skin would make his hands shake in need. Your mouth had always tempted him, but the image of your lips parted to let pants of hunger and moans of pleasure escape was too alluring to resist for even another moment.

You didn't know what Bucky saw when he looked at you, but the expression on his face had your thighs trembling and your heart quaking. His face was drawn taut with lust, his jaw tight and twitching, his eyes narrowed and glittering with barely restrained greed. He looked like he was moments away from snapping and ravaging you, but his hands still moved over you with tenderness even as they gripped and pressed more firmly.

Then his mouth was on yours and your eyes were fluttering closed at the sensation. Bucky had a brilliantly talented mouth that he seemed determined to use to drive you to the brink of madness. He seemed to know exactly how to tilt his head to find the most satisfying angle, when to tease with lips and teeth and when to give you the deep sucking kisses you craved. His big body settled against yours, his hips pressing your thighs open and bringing you into blatant contact with his arousal.

Bucky was hard as iron, and the blazing heat of you even through the layers of clothing still separating the two of you had a vicious shudder of need working through him. You wrapped your thighs around his waist and rubbed yourself shamelessly against him. He braced himself on his prosthetic arm so that his flesh hand could wrap around your thigh as he ground his hips into yours.

You moaned into his mouth and arched as best you could, pressed into the bed by the sexy, muscled body you'd craved for years. You twined your limbs around him, hands racing over all that delicious flesh. His skin was dewed with perspiration, as was yours, and the feel of your skin sliding against his was exquisite, the kind of friction that burst into cheery flame.

Bucky swallowed your moan greedily, but he needed to see you. He tore his mouth from your lips to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes burning, his breath ragged, his limbs trembling with desire. You gasped in a blazing breath, one hand buried in his hair, the other gripping his shoulders, nails digging in.

"Bucky," you sighed, and using your grip in his hair, pulled his head back so you could feast on his throat, his collarbones, his upper chest. The feel of your mouth on his skin was softer than anything he could have imagined and utterly entranced him. He hung, suspended in place above you while you seduced him completely with your lips, your hands, your body.

When you pushed gently at his shoulders, he went over without hesitation or complaint. He'd spent so many years fantasizing about making love to you; he'd never even considered what it would be like to have you make love to him. He'd been a fool, but considered himself a lucky one as now he got to discover the lover in his friend without any preconceived notions.

You tugged at the waistband of his underwear even as you slid your breasts against his chest as you leaned over him to breathe into his ear. "Maybe you're not completely out of patience," you murmured sultrily as he happily assisted you, "but considering how long I've been thinking about it, I can't believe we're not naked yet."

Bucky's head fell back with a groan when you lifted your head to look at him bared to your gaze for the first time and your hand closed around his erect length. You turned your face back to Bucky's to watch his expression as you gently twisted your fist around him. A spasm of pleasure flickered across his face before his lips spread in a wicked smile. At the same moment, you felt the arm under you flex as Bucky's hand slid around your leg, the edges of his fingers sliding just under the elastic that rode the crease of your inner thigh.

"How long have you been thinking about it, sweetheart?" he asked as you pulled away to shimmy out of your underwear. As soon as you were completely naked, he was pulling you on top of him, spreading your thighs over his hips and sliding his hand between them to part the glistening folds there.

"From the sounds of it?" you replied, and the seductive purr of your voice had him tearing his eyes from the prettiest pink pussy he'd ever seen to look into your eyes. Another quake of lust worked through him as he once again saw that gorgeous shy sexy look. Only now he had the feel of your slick on his fingers and bathing the barest tip of his cock. He was amazed he didn't come then and there. "For about as long as you have," you continued, "since puberty hit." You rocked a little against his hand, glorying in the feel of your clit sliding along those deliriously rough digits.

Bucky chuckled darkly. "Sugar," he smirked, "if I had a dollar for every time I came imagining fucking you, I wouldn't need student loans."

"Sugar," you panted, then paused a moment as imagining Bucky touching himself to thoughts of you had you moaning. Bucky could feel your building arousal and increased the speed of the gentle circles he was rubbing into your clit as you rocked against his cock. On the edge, you rasped out the rest, "The first time I ever came I was imagining you fucking me."

The exact order of the following events was fuzzy, but it seemed as though the first thing that happened was Bucky's metal hand closing around your hip almost hard enough to bruise at the same time one finger of his other hand dipped inside you. You tilted your head back to moan, your eyes fluttering closed. Perhaps that's how you could end up on your back without knowing how you got there. You had nothing to complain about however as Bucky's shoulders were pressing your thighs apart as his finger curled inside you and his mouth fastened around your clit. You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a better view.

Bucky's eyes burned as they stared into yours past the metal arm he'd thrown over your undulating hips to keep you in place for his mouth, and your breasts, heaving with your moaning breaths. "Come for me now, babygirl," he growled against you. As though he knew the tone to hack your body, allowing him to command it, you dissolved in the next moment when he dragged the pad of his finger down your forward wall, slowly removing his finger. When he suckled gently on your clit, your eyes blurred and your head fell backward as your hips bucked and twitched under that restraining arm.

When you started to shudder away from him, Bucky removed his finger from your pussy to reach up and gently palm your breast, rasping his palm softly against your nipple. He stopped sucking your clit to lap at your folds. You were sensitive, but his touch was so tender it soothed. At first. It wasn't long before you were breathing fast and Bucky was murmuring against you, the dark lust tight in his voice. "Again."

Bucky drug his tongue up through your folds to your clit as his metal hand came down to tease your entrance. When you froze in response to the feeling, he realized what he'd done, realized he'd lost himself in you to the point where he'd done something he'd never done with anyone else. He'd never touched any woman so intimately with his metal hand, always careful to keep it separate as much as possible without being obvious. But with you he hadn't thought.

He was about to pull away, to apologize, when he realized that your body was taut not in discomfort, but the knife edge of desire. Your breaths were tight, quick little pants of need, and he wondered. "Is this okay?" he whispered, his metal forefinger sinking into you just past the first knuckle.

"Yes?" you whimpered, and the touch of fearful shame in the sob of your voice changed that wondering into a suspicion. Since he had your permission, and since he kind of hoped he was right, since it was you, he decided to experiment. He slid his finger all the way inside you, then pumped it quickly in and out. He didn't touch your clit, however, curious to find out what exactly you liked.

You were trying so hard to not give away how turned on you were. You'd fantasized about Bucky in so many ways for so long that you'd ended up with a thing about his metal arm. Since you knew how self-conscious he was about it, something about having him touch you with it had come to be equated with intimacy in your mind. The only reason you hadn't come yet was because you'd fought it, terrified he'd think you'd fetishized it, and him.

He added a second finger and you lost the battle, coming with bucking hips and a moan of dismayed pleasure. "Beautiful," he smiled.

You were laying limp against his pillows, your eyes closed in sick dread, hoping he hadn't noticed. You were about to take matters into your own hands, literally, to distract him from the things you'd rather he didn't know. You just needed one moment to recover from the intensity of your climax.

Except before you could do so, you felt the bed shift under his weight. You opened your eyes to find him kneeling between your legs, his hands curling around your thighs to spread you for his gaze. His eyes were searing blue flames as he lifted his metal hand to slide his finger into your cunt. He'd only meant to test your response, but the buck of your hips had him sliding his finger into you again. The sight of you rocking into his metal hand was insanely erotic and he didn't want it to stop.

"Bucky…" Your whimper was a demand and a plea and had his eyes flicking to yours. He remembered himself and pulled his hand from between your thighs. Slipping his flesh arm under your hips, he lifted your ass up and slid his hips between your legs, positioning his cock at your entrance.

He lifted his hand to your lips, painting them with your slick. "Taste yourself, babygirl," he rasped. Your tongue darted out to run over your bottom lip and brushed against his finger. Both of you shuddered at the sensation. Even had he wanted to, Bucky couldn't have resisted the hot excitement that came into your eyes when you began to suspect that he was fine with your dirty little secret. His hips bucked, driving the first inch into you, when you sucked his finger into your mouth. You moaned around the digit, the flavor of metal and yourself exploding across your tongue.

"So, you like my metal arm, huh?" His voice was husky with the lust riding him and he couldn't help but sink a little further into you when you nodded, his finger still in your mouth. He moaned a little. "I knew you had exciting secrets behind your eyes." Your eyes crinkled in laughter and he had to pull his hand from your mouth to replace it with his lips. His heart was pounding not in desire, but with love, and he needed a moment to drown in you, to remind himself that, for tonight at least, you were his.

When he pulled back, you lifted back onto your elbows to lace your legs around Bucky's waist, driving your hips into him with that shy, sultry look. He gave in with a laughing groan, unable and uninterested in trying to resist any longer. He sank all the way into you, then leaned down to rest his forehead against yours and breathe for a moment. You were a wet velvet fist around him and the urge to thrust madly into you was riding him hard. He needed to take a moment so that he didn't spill inside you immediately and humiliate himself.

"Oh, Bucky," you breathed, and the sound had him shuddering again. Your voice was a sigh of pleasure, the sound so sweet his jaw locked. "That feels fucking outstanding," you continued.

Bucky laughed a little at the pun. "Ba-dum-tsss."

The two of you laughed together, moving your bodies in deliciously interesting ways. Bucky started to rock ever so slightly into you, more a digging movement that still somehow made you feel like you were going to fly apart. Your hands came up to fist in his hair, and with your eyes on his, you used your legs to push back at him.

Unable to deny you anything you wanted, Bucky thrust harder into you, but his eyes never left yours. Arctic blue burned into your gaze even as his mouth caught and clung to yours. You were whining and sobbing in pleasure, climbing swiftly back to the peak he'd already driven you to. His breath was a gasp, his desire a grumbling purr in his throat as he chanted your name in amongst hot words of demand and praise.

"So fucking sexy, babygirl," he muttered, hands on your waist as he started to shove forcefully into you, "look at that pretty pussy taking my cock so good, wanted you for so long, baby, couldn't ever get you out of my head, knew you'd be the best, tightest, sweetest fuck. Squeeze me, baby, I want to feel that pretty perfect cunt cumming around me."

The growling, filthy words were both shocking and insanely sexy. You were astonished, but pleasantly surprised to find you loved it. "Bucky, you're fucking killing me," you moaned as you met him thrust for thrust. You'd always known that you and Bucky struck sparks off one another, but you hadn't anticipated the speed or the power of the inferno that would ensue when the blaze was allowed to rage free.

"Come for me, baby," Bucky purred, leaning forward to take your mouth again even as he rammed harder into you. He'd never let go like this before, never allowed himself free rein with anyone like this. But you were different; he trusted you, could give you everything he'd always held back.

When he released your mouth, he had to hold back with everything he had to not come on the spot. As soon as your lips were free, your tongue was darting out to run over them. You closed your eyes and hummed, like you were savoring the flavor of his kiss. You opened your eyes and the shine of warmth and desire sent quake of need through him even as he pounded harder into you. "Come with me," you murmured, your voice a rasp of temptation.

Bucky moaned, a little dismayed, because he wanted to give you anything you wanted, especially that. But… "I want it to last, babygirl." He was determined; he would make this last as long as he was capable of standing. He wasn't going to rush through something he'd wanted for so long, something he already knew he'd pay dearly for. His eyes narrowed. "I want you on your knees first. Come for me."

You already were. The almost threatening tone in the statement 'I want you on your knees first' had been enough to push you over the edge after the increase in both speed and force of his thrusts. You came on a shuddering sob of his name, this one even more intense thanks to your increased sensitivity.

“That's right, come all over me, babygirl." Bucky's voice was a deep growl of both need and satisfaction. Watching you arch and shudder out his name sent prickles of sensation running all through him. "So fucking sexy. You’re so pretty, baby, fucking me so good." He knew his tongue was running away with him, but you were so beautiful, panting and sweating in ecstasy. "I love the way my name sounds when you're moaning it, love the way you look when I’m fucking you, y/n. I--”

Bucky bit off the next words and focused on rocking you through your orgasm. When you calmed, he gently helped you onto your stomach. You needed the assistance, the last climax taking most of your energy with it. You felt like you were vibrating, but also wouldn't stop for any reason whatsoever. Carefully, tenderly, he kissed his way down your spine, murmuring hot words of demand and promise as he went. “Since it’s harder to see your pretty face, babygirl, I’m gonna need to hear your voice screaming my name. I need to be sure you know who’s inside you."

He knelt behind you, his hands helping you up onto your knees. You'd gotten a little of your breath and some control of your muscles back, so you were more capable of participating again. You gave a little petulant moan when Bucky slipped back inside you, still a little over-sensitive. You giggled a little when you spoke, the tattle-tale cadence belied by the husky and approving tone. "Bucky's filthy. I'm telling."

Bucky chuckled tightly. "Oh, yeah? You gonna rat yourself out, too?" You felt him lean over you to slide his metal hand between your thighs. "Dirty girl," he laughed when your hips bucked at the contact.

"Bucky," you laughed, even as a hot wave of aroused shame washed over you, "you gonna get around to fucking me anytime soon or…?"

"Oh, babygirl," he moaned, thrusting more forcefully into you. "You asked for it."

"Yeah," you retorted, groaning, "I did."

With one last tight laugh, Bucky's fingers dug into the flesh at your hips. In the next moment, he was using his grip to pound into you and you were losing your mind. You didn't know it, but you were moaning Bucky's name in a sobbing, begging tone and the sound was going straight to his gut. He didn't know how he'd lasted this long inside you, but he was losing his grip with every gorgeous cry that he could drive from your throat.

Bucky didn't know it, but he was muttering your name among endearments and praise in a dark, tight purr that was like electricity straight into your veins and ripping through your body. You propped yourself on your elbows and used the leverage to push back with Bucky's rhythm, desperate to find once more that golden place where fireworks exploded behind your eyes and your body quaked in pleasure.

Bucky was running his hands over your back and arms, bending over you to slide his metal hand between your legs. With the other, he cupped one of your breasts and used his grip to pull you up so that your back was rubbing against his chest as he slid into you. He needed to feel as much of you as possible, wanted to bathe in the heat, the scent of you. Your arms came up to lay across his, your hand following his down between your thighs.

"You feel that, babygirl?" He rasped the question as he brought your hand where it rested against the back of his down to where you were joined, his cock slowly stroking in and out of you. "You feel how wet you are? I love everything about fucking you, y/n, but this--" he stopped as he dragged his hand up over your clit, making you whimper, and sinking his teeth into the cord of muscle where your shoulders met your neck, --is the sexiest thing ever."

Your mind was a blank blur, focused entirely on the physical sensations Bucky was causing with his body, his fingers, his cock, his voice. You felt like you were bathing in him, drowning in him and you couldn't find a thing to dislike about it. You never wanted to stop, wanted to live in this moment with him forever, straining toward a release both physical and emotional, where you could believe that he loved you the way you loved him. The forever kind.

The two of you fell forward when Bucky redoubled his efforts, shoving as deeply into you as he could. He wasn't going to last much longer. He could feel the beginnings of your climax rippling around him and it was the most gorgeous feeling ever. His hand was still rubbing at your clit, though erratically, as he was nearing his release with every second.

You pushed back at him with everything you had, desperate to feel him coming inside you. You'd never cared about that before, had actively avoided it, as a matter of fact, but with Bucky, for some reason, you needed it.

You turned around and shot Bucky a look filled with such desperate desire, he thought he’d gladly die to satisfy it. You didn't know who was more astonished, you or Bucky, at the words coming out of your mouth, but he liked it, regardless. "Come for me, baby," you purred, echoing his earlier words.

Bucky groaned, and shuddered with the effort of holding back. He was loving this too much, didn't want it to end. He'd drag it out as long as you both could stand it. "You first," he shot back and bit your shoulder.

You bit your lip and shot him a look from sultry eyes. He wished he had Steve's talent with a pen, or a camera, because he'd be dreaming about that look for the rest of his life.

"Nuh-uh," you half-moaned, the friction driving you mad. "I had my turn. All my turns." You tilted your head back, for the first time in your life deliberately holding back an orgasm and it made you whimper in your throat in a way you'd never done before. Bucky lifted so he was kneeling behind you once more, his hands on your hips. You turned to look at him, braced once again on your elbows and driving back at him. In that same whimper, "I wanna feel it, Bucky-bug."

Bucky couldn’t hold back any longer. The sound of your voice, ripe with need, whimpering the old, intimate endearment, was erotic to the point of pain. The timbre of your voice went straight to his cock and had him helplessly thrusting erratically into you as he had the most intense orgasm of his life.

He'd never again hear that nickname without thinking of this moment.

The feel of Bucky letting go inspired you to do the same. The feeling of him coming inside you as he whispered your name in a voice both broken and reverent made you feel like you were coming apart at the seams, and Bucky was claiming every piece. His eyes were burning into yours even as the bright blue blurred in pleasure. You hadn't expected him to be so beautiful in his passion, or how even the taut cords of his neck as he strained to come deeper inside you would make you shudder with aftershocks of ecstasy.

Bucky fell to the bed next to you with a 'whump', drained beyond all thought or reason. He'd expected sex with you to be good; he hadn't expected to set the sheets on fire, then say, 'what the hell' and just douse the building in gasoline. He hadn't known he had that in him, let alone that you had all that in you. He loved that you'd now had all of him in you.

Despite the massive effort, cheerfully considering the effort worth it, he dragged himself into a position where he could wrap his arm around your waist and pull you into a spoon.

"Okay," you said, a little while later. Your voice was a little shaky, but you'd just gotten your breath back. Encouraged by cuddly Bucky and the happy hum of contentment he'd made when he'd pulled you close, you went on. "Okay. That's a lot to unpack.” You sighed happily at the sound of Bucky’s snort of humor. “First: Fair enough. That was worth some fuss.”

Part Nine here

Taglist:

@learisa @angieptt @mia-at-work @midnightdream83 @wwecrazed2010 @allandoflimbo @emaywhyayy @cheekygeek05 @lovely-geek @diinofayce @suz-123 @hellzzzbelle @olukewarmo @fairchild21 @thefridgeismybestie @fandomsstolemylife00 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @australianhorrorstory @buckybarneshairpullingkink @c-ly-g @wishingforahome @strangersstranger @whiskeyandwashitape @eyesfixedonthesun22 @ingenue-q @joe-mazzello-is-my-dad

[detroitbydark]

Moonbeams and Ridinghoods Chp 2

Pairing: werewolf!haz x reader

Summary: Harrison contemplated his next move and gets support from a friend

Words: 1740

Warnings: None, safe for now my pretties.

A/N: anyone interest in a taglist? Playlist? This thing is beginning to sprawl in my head and I’d love to know what y’all think and what you like!

“If you stare at your phone any harder it’s going to explode.”

Harrison looks up from his spot sprawled on the sectional to see Tom giving him a curious look from across the room.

They’d only arrived home a few hours ago from their “boys weekend” out at the cottage and all were feeling a bit lazy. Harry and Sam had fucked off to their flat, while Tuwaine had taken up residence in their spare bedroom. Tom and Emily has been spending some “alone time” together but by the looks of his slightly rumpled appearance as he sunk into the loveseat, she’d gotten her fill.

It was always nice when the full moon fell on the weekend. They could take their time coming and going and recovering afterwards. Midweek changes were the fucking worst. Battling the bone deep exhaustion that came after a transformation while trying to be productive at work? You could fucking forget about it, worse than a hangover.

Harrison glances at the contact he’s pulled up again. “Little Red”. He can’t help but smile at the joke. Tom grumbles across the room.

“Come on, tell us what’s gotten you so obsessed over there.” Harrison rests his head back against the arm of the couch, resting a hand over his bare stomach. He lets out a soft huff before looking at the man across the way.

Tom was his best friend, had been since they were children. Their parents had run with the same pack and it was no surprise to anyone when the boys became thick as thieves or that they’d formed their own ragtag pack when they’d come of age.

“Met a girl the other night.” He finally admits, locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket. Tom raises a curious brow.

“Little bird caught your eye? Anyone we know?” Haz knows it’s a loaded question. ‘Anyone we know?’. Was she a wolf? Who does she run with? Harrison can’t help but roll his eyes. Tom was his alpha and Haz knew he wanted what was best for every member of their small ‘family’ but sometimes he was just a little too nosy for his liking.

“Naw, nothing like that. Just a girl who chatted me up at the market the other night.”

Toms brows rise into his hairline. “The night before the moon?”

“A couple nights” Haz clarifies, he feels a little uncomfortable by his friends close scrutiny. So what if he was talking about a normal human girl. He wanted to ask him why he cared so much but the explanation walks in before he can.

Tom’s girlfriend Emily had moved into the neighborhood when they were teens and it had been instant fireworks between the pair. Em was bright, outgoing, and smart as a whip. Tom had been absolutely gone on her before he’d even been able to mouth the words “I love you.”.

Of course, with dating a ‘normal’ girl came problems. There was a certain code of secrecy their parents had insisted they keep and Tom had been forced to keep Em in the dark for years. It wasn’t until she’d been attacked by a member of a rival pack, mauled badly, that Tom was able to explain what he was but by then the damage had been done. It had nearly destroyed them.

The wolf could be a curse or a blessing depending on who you asked. The Hollands and Osterfields had all inherited the trait from their ancestors. Emily had been thrust into it, infected by a bite. It had been five years and she still struggled to come to grips with her other half. Some months were good and she’d join the boys at the cottage, run and hunt by the moonlight while others, like the most recent, she’d lock herself in her bedroom for the night and refuse anyone (not even Tom admittance). It tore Tom apart and, while he hadn’t made it law, he let it be known he wasn’t keen on any of the lads bringing in outsiders.

“What are you talking about?” The brunette asks sliding into her mates lap. She’s wearing one of Toms button up shirts and and a pair of sweat shorts that say HBIC. Harrison had gotten them for her for Christmas. She was the only woman in the pack and definitely a bit coddled and spoiled by all the boys. She deserved it though, acting as a surrogate Mum and looking after the lot of them making sure they behaved like human beings and not animals (except for one day a month). She was a hell of a baker and doted on each of “her boys”.

Tom nuzzles against her neck, nipping lightly while she giggles.

“Haz met a girl.” He explains. Em’s head whips in the blonde’s direction. Tom groans knowing he’s lost her attention.

“Is she pretty? Have you taken her out yet? When can I meet her?” Harrison laughs at her rapid fire delivery.

“She’s very pretty. American.” He starts out as he hears Tom groan again.

“An American? Really?”

Emily swats him upside the head and nods for Harrison to finish answering her questions.

“I’ve haven’t exactly asked her out yet. Haven’t even called her, so I don’t think you’ll be meeting her anytime soon. If ever.” He finishes. He can see the wheels in Emily’s brains turning. It was never a good sign. She really was smarter than the whole lot of them and once she got something in her head it was nearly impossible to dissuade her.

“Well you should definitely call her.”

“And why’s that love?” Tom asks, tucking an errant wisp of hair behind her ear.

“Because, Thomas,” She starts off primly, “Harrison deserves a bit of happiness and I need at least one of these dogs to get a girlfriend I can hang around with.”

Chuckling, Tom glances at his friend. “Man, if you want to call her go ahead and do it but know your going to have to share her with Emily.”

The woman in question shoots Harrison a sly wink. Tom was the head of the pack but, when she wanted to, Em had her own bit of control over the alpha.

There was something both frustrating and relieving about being given the go ahead from Tom and Harrison wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He watches the pair snuggle closer on the couch, wolves tended to be more tactile than humans and the pair were no exception. While he enjoyed piling into the living room with his pack mates, drinking beer and playing video games after a tough day at work, he longed for what Tom and Emily shared. He wanted that connection. He wanted to find the one that completed him.

Excusing himself, Harrison pulls an old jumper on and heads out to the back garden before taking up position on a deck chair. The waning moon shines her light down on her child and Harrison takes the phone out of his pocket.

You’re developing a palate for curry. It’s something you’ve never eaten prior to coming overseas but you find yourself falling in love with the mixture of spices that leaves your tongue burning and you wanting more.

You’ve also grown incredibly sick of TV dinners and there was an Indian restaurant with great carry out on the corner of your block.

You roll your eyes. Since you’d met Harrison you had been hesitant to walk alone after dark. It was completely ridiculous, honestly. You’d only met him once but you’d taken his concern to heart. He knew more about the area and if he was concerned maybe you should be too.

You’re not sure why you’re so concerned with how the handsome blonde would feel about you doing something, you’d only met once and for such a short time. Hell, you hadn’t even called him, nor he you. He’d probably forgotten all about you.

Flipping the page of your magazine you try to concentrate on the article at hand but you just can’t get into the fashion spread and designer spotlight. You're restless and completely bored, spending all your time out of work holed up in your flat. A deep sigh escapes you as you set the carryout container on the coffee table.

Taking the overseas contract had seemed like a great way to break out of the rut you’d been in. A different country. A new set of faces. It had all seemed so easy. A bit of excitement! A whole new world! Except it wasn’t really panning out was it?

A ding from your phone has you retrieving it from the table. Your eyes go wide when you see the name.

Big Bad: are you up?

You glance at the time. It was only 8:30. Of course you were up. You can’t help but smile at the message, thinking about a reply, before you can even get a word out your phone is ringing.

“Hello?”

“I bet you didn’t think I was going to call you.” Harrison’s voice is warm like honey and you feel a smile spread across your face.

“Maybe not.” You conceded, “but here you are calling. What do I owe the pleasure?” Snuggling down into the couch you pull your knees up and into your body as you speak, the fleece blanket you’ve been using gets pulled up to your chin.

“Would you laugh if I told you I was trying to work up the nerve to call you all weekend?”

The smile on your face just won’t give up. “Would you, if I said I’d been hoping to hear from you?” The chuckle from the other end confirms your suspicion.

“Sorry for being such a div and not doing it sooner. Was out in the country for a couple of days.” The apology makes you melt. “I’ve been thinking about you.” He says and you hum quietly in response. The line gets quiet for a moment and you wonder if the calls been dropped.

“Harris-“

“Do you want to get coffee this week?”

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks as you both speak at the same time.

“I work the next couple days but I could pencil you in for Wednesday?”

“Wednesday it is!” His enthusiasm is contagious and you already find yourself looking forward to it. “Now that that’s out of the way” he continues, “how was your weekend?”

[crimsonbluemoon]

TerrorMoo April-May Event

Hello everyone! I’m happy to say I did a fun event in the @bbsshippingpirates server for the BBS boys. Me and @callmegreens got paired up, so please enjoy our lovely work together. And when they post their collab piece, I’ll share it on here!

Green’s Picture: FIND ME HERE! (Its seriously so cute I can’t even >.<)

TerrorMoo Drabble

“You need a dog.” Brian rolled his eyes when he tweaked the wrench around the engine above him, trying to ignore the annoying co-worker still chattering somewhere in the shop. “Having Joe and Tony helps give me purpose, ya know? Keeps me young and shit. Really helped me when I-”

“I’m not getting a bitch to replace a bitch,” Brian interrupted, finally pushing out from under the car to glare up at his scowling friend.

“They don’t like being called that, ye know. Dogs have feelings.” The fact that Nogla, the sweetest guy Brian had ever met, was defending the canine over Brian’s ex made it clear how little he thought of the woman. Erika was terrible to Brian, and their three month relationship had been bound to fall apart from the beginning. Having her move out had been a painful, but gratifying experience, full of screaming and bruises from the things she’d thrown at him. Even after a month, he could still feel the pain in his chest from the alarm clock she’d thrown at him before dragging the rest of her stuff out of his house.

“You don’t just buy a pet when you break up with someone.”

“Then just go look at em! I’ll even go with ya; I’ve gotta get a new chew toy for Tony.”

“What happened to last week’s toy?” Brian asked, wiping the grease from the side of his face. His lips dropped into a scowl when realizing that it didn’t matter much when oil took its place from the radiator he was fixing minutes before.

“Joe ate it. He’s been shitting rubber for days.” The image Nogla painted in Brian’s head didn’t make his desire for a dog increase an inch if it meant having one as dumb or reckless as the two mutts Nogla owned. “Aw, come on. Just skim em, and if ya hate em, I won’t bother ye again.”

“You bother me every day just clocking in.” He grinned when Nogla sputtered, but finally gave into the idiot’s pleas when fully laying down onto the creeper pressed against his spine and sliding back under the car. “But sure, I’ll come with ya tonight and get a new toy for Tony.”

“Good! And make sure to hose yerself in the back, ya? Ye smell like ya fucked a lawn mower.”

Brian could only hope his arm extended out far enough for Nogla to see him flipping him off under the car.

~**~

He didn’t know why Nogla was worried about his smell; the pet shop was far worse than his auto shop. His nose scrunched from the smell of dirty hamster shavings near his head when he walked in, glancing to the rodent already staring at him with stuffed cheeks. The little thing was a golden tan and blended in far too well with his environment, which he proved when burying under the bedding to hide. Never a fan of the small pets, Brian turned away, taking in the store. Far bigger than he’d expected, the pet shop was filled with all types of animals and supplies that Brian wasn’t sure of how to use. He walked through the place slowly, keeping his eye on the owl that squawked at Nogla upon the two passing. If his friend minded the annoying screech, he didn’t show it, eyes already bright when glancing around.

“Brock? Ye in here? I need a new toy for Tony.”

“Be right out!” The pretty tone of the shopkeeper caught Brian’s ear, but he couldn’t locate the owner from behind the door of the ‘employee only’ area. Before he could ask, a painful yank on the back of his hair made Brian swear, batting at the pointed beak which had caught him. Nogla’s laugh did nothing to disturb the owl, who made sure to drop a hoot after Brian had finally stumbled away from the crazy bird.

“What the fock is that?” Brian asked, Nogla dropping an arm around his shoulders with a far to wide grin.

“Meet Vanoss, Brock’s attack owl.” Nogla spent far too much time in the store from his knowledge of the animals, and Vanoss seemed far more inclined to let Nogla by his cage when he tapped on the sign on the corner. In an elegant cursive swirl, the words ‘Be careful around the cage; Vanoss may bite’ were written onto the owl’s info page.

“Why is he here? You can’t even own owls here, can you?”

“Well, no,” Nogla agreed, shrugging when Vanoss starting to nip at the shoulder of his shirt. “He’s a barn owl, but he got hurt a couple weeks back and Brock’s technically the only guy around with a license to foster him until he can go back into the wild. The bird’s too smart to leave in his house alone, so Brock takes him here.”

“Oh no, did Vanoss bite someone again?” The voice from before floated through the air, and Brian’s eyes darted to catch the pretty brown stare worriedly glancing over his face. “I’m sorry, he’s just used to prey moving in the barn; he doesn’t know any better. I’m Brock, the owner of the store. Are you okay, sir?”

“Uh…” And though Brian had never missed a chance to charm the pants off any pretty guy or girl that caught his fancy, this time his tongue firmly stayed tied. Because the beautiful man in front of him was a paradox he couldn’t process. The fuller hips were wrapped in the ugliest lime green apron that Brian had ever seen, pink cheeks framing a nervous smile and flushed neck. The newcomer wasn’t too tall or short, and maybe some would consider him plain. But Brian’s eyes didn’t want to miss a single detail of the other who glanced between him and Nogla with an apologetic aura that made Brian want to gather him in his arms and glare at whatever had caused the look.

Except that had been him, and he still hadn’t responded to the question.

“You’re fine.” Nogla’s loud burst of laughter at Brian’s blunder made the mechanic glare over to his friend and jab him hard in the ribs with his elbow, gaining his bearings back after seeing Nogla wheeze out from the hit. Shaking his head once, Brian gave a grin that he knew hit the mark when the pink coiled into red on Brock’s face. “Sorry, I mean it’s fine. I’m Brian, and Nogla didn’t tell me this place was owned by such a cute-”

“Oh!” Brock’s sudden cut off of Brian’s attempt at a flirty line was paired with widened eyes, the smile that brightened his face momentarily leaving Brian far too off his game and breathless to care. “You’re Nogla’s friend.”

“Don’t say that too loud.”

“Fock you, Brian!” It was automatic to toss out the quirky line, and Nogla’s loud protest blowing out his eardrum beside him was worth it when hearing Brock’s cute laugh.

“I’m so happy you finally came around to adopting one of our puppies.” Brian’s mind blinked at the words twice as hard as his eyes did, but Brock didn’t seem to notice when moving forward. The warm fingers that curled around his hand made the confusion and warning bells shift into the 1% of his brain that wasn’t occupied on remembering the warm scent of vanilla that he picked up from how close Brock had gotten. “We just got a litter of puppies ready for sale last week. I’m sure they’ll sell fast, but I wanted to give you the chance of the first pick because Nogla told me about your loss.”

“My loss.” He repeated the words slowly, glancing to where he’d left his friend when Brock gave a nod.

“He told me that you’d recently lost your dog, Erika, last month.” It was almost a surprise that Nogla was now gone, hiding down one of the aisles to avoid Brian’s seething glare. If it wasn’t for how good Brock’s soft fingers felt squeezing around his own in unearned sympathy, Brian would have torn the place down to shove Nogla’s head into a fish bowl. “I’m so sorry for your loss. How old was she?”

“Twenty six; same as me.” Brian gave a final try of activating his x-ray vision to see where the coward was hiding before looking back to Brock, shaking his head when catching how the other’s brows knitted together in confusion. It was a cute look, but Brian wasn’t sure this man knew how not to be adorable at this point. “Erika wasn’t my dog, she was my ex-girlfriend.”

“But Nogla had called her a bit-” Despite being annoyed with his best friend, Brian had to admit it was amusing to see the sudden realization cross over Brock’s face before it burst into flames, his free hand waving in front of him as if expecting Brian to swing. “Oh my gosh, I am so, so sorry! I didn’t know he meant- this is so embarrassing, and I’m still holding your hand like a creep-”

“Breathe, Brock. I’m not mad at you.” And to add to the statement, he gave the hand still linked with his a squeeze, enjoying the warmth of the palm now rubbing against his. “If anyone should be apologizing, it should be that beanstalk of a moron.”

“Why would he do this?”

“I think I know why.” If his best friend loved one thing more than potatoes and his dogs, it was matchmaking. He was the reason Brian’s old roommate, Evan, had finally gotten the accidental guts to confess for his now fiancee, mainly because Jonathan was far too stupid to realize how in love both of them were with each other. Nogla had also worked with the college to setup a cupid event last valentines day, sneakily hooking up several more couples without the pairs even realizing Nogla’s mischievous meddling. And though he wanted to be mad at the man who definitely wasn’t peeking around the fish tank to watch their interaction, he knew Nogla’s intentions were good.

“So I guess you don’t need to see the puppies, then.” The awkward disappointment in Brock’s tone when he shifted his weight between his feet paused Brian’s immediate answer of ‘yes’, taking the moment to truly look at the man in front of him. He didn’t seem like someone trying to simply make a deal to get rid of his product; he looked genuinely upset that someone wouldn’t be looking at the new litter. Brock’s face was so expressionate, with no sense of worry of showing the heart that looked ready to burst on his sleeve from his genuine feelings. It was an honesty that was rare in the world.  And Nogla had picked Brock for Brian, which his friend didn’t do on a whim. He’d seen something in the charming shop keeper, enough to trick both of them into meeting each other.

And though Nogla was a moron, he wasn’t always stupid.

“You got a place to play with em?” Brian’s shoulder shrug at the stunned look he received, letting his smile flow into something that lacked his flirty signature. “I really am a dog person, and it’s been a while since I’ve owned one. Not really sure how to raise a puppy this small.”

“I, uh.” Brian held back his laugh at how slow Brock’s reaction was before he nearly pulled off Brian’s arm when leading him to the back cages. “O-of course! We have a playpen where you can interact with the dogs, and we give free starter kits when you adopt any puppy younger than six months old. It comes with food, a leash and harness, three toys, and...and maybe some in-home training sessions.”

“Maybe?” Brian teased, enjoying the way Brock’s ears warmed when he caught the hitch in the offer. “Is that offered to all customers, or just us cute ones?”

“S-shut up.” The sass was a surprising bite that made Brian finally give in to his laughter, letting himself fall into the warmth that had been buzzing between them since first hearing Brock’s voice. They played with each puppy, and then every dog in the whole store, Brian dragging out the interaction with Brock for as long as he could. Nogla kept scarce for most of the night, which should had bothered Brian more if he wasn’t so enamored with how perfect Brock looked with a lap full of overeager puppies licking his face. And though he hadn’t intended on actually buying a dog, much less a puppy, seeing the unique blue-eyed german shepherd yipping happily when untying Brock’s apron for the third time was enough to steal Brian’s will to stay strong.

He left the pet shop two hours later with Terroriser (“Ya can’t name a dog that, Brian!” “Shut up, Nogla, its my puppy and I’ll do what I want with em.” “You two are supposed to be friends, right?”), too many toys, and more food than he thought he had for himself in his house.

But he also had Brock’s number and a date Friday night, which was enough to deal with Nogla’s bragging all the way back to the auto shop.

And thats the cute story! Make sure to go give love to Green for their cute pic, I loved it! And as always, like, reblog, and let me know what you think ^.^ 

[leah-halliwell92]

I Double Dare You

Summary: You are Roger’s baby sister who happens to have a huge crush on his best friend Brian, who is also your best and closest friend. Roger notices the crush and decides to get involved despite not knowing how Brian feels about you. 

For @bowieandqueen11 writing challenge! I.e the last one.

“Come one Brian!” Roger said as they made their way out from the studio John and Freddie following both men quiet but with ears wide open.

“No Roger, its not right,” Brian said voice soft yet firm.

“Its just one date mate ONE, what’s so bad about it?” He asked frustratedly.

“It’s a BLIND date Roger! Do you really think I’m going to go out with just anyone!?” Brian said annoyed with a roll of his eyes.

“No but I also know a bird that just wants one outing and is terribly shy about approaching anyone she likes! Which in this case, is you,” Roger said fighting to stay calm and push through his idea for the date. And this way theres a 50/50 chance at having something with Bri...or not.

“No Roger,” Brian said with finality in his voice.

“I double dare you!” Roger said with a hint of smirk on his handsome face, “To go on this date OR you’ll find your Red lady not where you left her last night.”

John and Fred shared a look shock evident as they held back a gasp. They all knew not to mess with the Red Special.

Brian paled and would have punched the shorter man but knew he wouldn’t get his guitar back if that was the case.

The tall astrophysicist sighed and said, “Fine, ONE date. You can kiss your shag nights good bye.”

Roger’s grin fell and nodded reluctantly accepting the consequences of threatening the man’s guitar.

Brian left to go on a walk and try and calm down before heading home.

John left soon after leaving Roger and Freddie on their own. 

“Who are you going to set Bri up with anyway Rog?” Freddie asked with a smile as they walked to a pub for lunch and a drink.

“(Y/N) of course!” The blonde said with triumphant cheer.

Freddie to his credit didn’t hit Roger upside the head for the idea and let the him bask in what Rog believed was an amazing idea.

Two Days later...

Roger, Freddie and John were all in Freddie’s apartment. The apartment you shared with Freddie when Roger kicks you out of yours for a shag. Planning out the details of what will be your date, blind date, with Brian.

Last night was a night for you, Rog proceeded to kick you out of your flat around midnight forcing you to go to Freddie’s. The only difference here is that Roger thinks you left for your last class of the day...on a Sunday. Freddie figured that this is why Roger came over. He, also knowing how you feel or Brian, warned you that Roger is planning something. Freddie didn’t tell you what, he just told you to stay in the bedroom until Roger left. You’d agreed reluctantly...dammit Roger what are you doing?

Freddie had called John over more for moral support for you in the aftermath of Roger’s brainstorming than anything. That and Freddie’s certain John doesn’t know who Roger wants to set up with their lead guitarist. 

“So who are you going to be setting up Brian with Roger,” John asked curiously. 

Roger said it was you and proceeded to regale the men sitting on the sofa about the date he is setting up for them.

You sat on the floor by the closed door tears falling down your cheeks as disbelief coursed through you. The date sounded too good to be true. Dinner, ice cream, and star gazing. Very Brian things...but it isn’t real. None of this would be real.

Roger left after an hour of “planning” saying he had his own bird to tend to.

You heard two sets of footsteps come towards the room and open the door. You looked up to see Freddie and John coming in.

“Oh darling it’s alright,” Freddie said as he sat beside you and pulled you into a hug.

“I’m expected to go on this date tomorrow and believe that he feels the same!?” You cried into his shoulder as John sat on your other side and took one of your hands in his quietly offering his own support.

“No dear. You will go on this outing to spend time with Brian, you control what happens,” Freddie said firmly but kindly.

You knew you would have gone anyway, you weren’t one to not give your brother the benefit of the doubt. But not in this case...in this case Roger is forcing something that isn’t there. Plus Brian is your best friend, you can play Cinderella for a night. 

“Can I ask a favor though?” You ask voice small.

The boys nodded.

“Please keep him busy, I don’t want to see Roger anywhere near to what we are  doing,” You say firmly. 

Date Night...

As promised, you dressed up for the ‘date’ as you would have done if there was any chance that Brian would ask you out on a date. A tasteful dress that can be seen as an all occasion dress. A good dual purpose choice if you get the chance to stargaze with him before the clock hits midnight.

Freddie helped you with your makeup being mindful to use minimal eye makeup, in case of tears, and makeup that enhanced your natural beauty. He kept a close eye on you as he did your makeup noticing how your eyes would light up to then dim substantially until a dead look took over. He wondered if it had been a bad idea to have you there when Roger burst in his plan in tow. Or if he should have let you walk into this as blind as Bri is.What’s done is done, now they all would need to reap what sewed. 

It had been agreed by all parties involved that Brian would pick you up at Freddie’s, you also reserve the right to kick Roger in the balls and bar him from your flat when this plan of his blows up in his face. You weren’t hopeful that this would go anywhere, a friendship would deepen and a heart would be broken. Nope, no hope.

You heard a quiet knock at the door Freddie went to the door and welcomed Brian and Roger, who sounded more smug than happy, into the apartment. 

“(Y/N)!” Brian said surprised to see you there.

“Surprise!” Roger said smile on his face.

You pushed a smile, playing your surprised role well, and pressed yourself onto the hand on your back; looking to your left you saw Freddie there. This spared look towards Freddie caused you to miss the look Brian was giving you over Roger’s head.

Freddie being Freddie didn’t miss it though and practically pushed you and Brian out the door.

“Alright lovebirds out you go,” Freddie said nodding to John who “accidentally” bumped into Roger causing both men to fall into a heap on the floor.

Brian and you walked out of the complex still perplexed at who your blind date is. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Freddie asked looking down at the heap.

“After em’,” Roger said as he fought to stand up. 

“No you’re not mate,” John said as kept Roger from getting up.

“You’re staying here with us darling,” Freddie said voice hard as he looked down at the blonde, “You didn’t see the look on her face when she found out that this is a farce.”

Roger’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull and he yelled, “She was at school Fred! She couldn’t have known!”

Freddie and John both rolled their eyes at him.

“You idiot, what’s today!?” Freddie asked.

“Monday...meaning yesterday...oh shit,” Roger said letting himself fall back onto the floor.

“Exactly. So you better hope this so called date gives her hope for something more with Bri because if she comes home in tears it’s you John and I will be coming after,” Freddie said seriously and went to get them all a beer. 

You walked a bit before Brian stopped you. 

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said looking more than a little uncomfortable and anxious.

You felt your heart crack. This is where he lets you down gently...and you’re not wrong.

“Rog told dared me to go on a blind date in exchange for the safe return of my guitar,” he said and began scratching his neck.

‘Oh, so this is why he agreed,’ you thought sadly.

“Um...Bri?” You said clearing your throat from the ball of tears that had begun to form, “I saw Rog with a guitar case a few days ago. I had no idea it was your Red Special, we can go and get it if you want.”

You saw the relieved grin on his face and felt your heart lighten just a bit. At least you had assured him that everything was going to be fine on that front.

“Oh thank god,” he said breathing a relieved sigh.

You looked down at your feet and wrapped your arms around your middle letting out a small shiver.

“You ok?” Brian asked noticing your shiver.

You shook your head still not looking at him feeling ever so small and insignificant. 

‘Have I always been this small?” You wonder to yourself trying to distract your mind again.

Your musing was put to a halt when you felt something warm cover your shoulders.

“Here,” he said kindly as he put his jacket around your shoulders and adjusted it, “You looked cold.”

You grinned gently and nodded your thanks.

“Come one (Y/N/N),” he said throwing an arm over your shoulders and pulling you close to his side before starting to walk again.

You wanted to stop this nip the fantasy in the bud before anything went too far.

“We don’t have to do this you know,” you said quietly as you walked beside him, “We can go get your guitar and go home. I mean we all know Roger’s an arse who thinks his ideas are better than anyone else’s.”

You pause to gather what ever little back bone you have and said, “I mean...uhh—”

“You don’t want to do the date?” He asked quietly, too quietly. 

“Not if you don’t want to,” you said honestly.

He stopped and pulled away brow furrowed in confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I want to?” He asked.

You breath a laugh and say, “I’m your best mate’s sister for one not to mention we’ve been best friends for just as long and I’ve never seen you show any interest in me than that of just friends—”

Brian yanked you close and pressed a kiss to your lips. 

Your shocked gasp turned into a soft moan as your deepened the kiss ever so slightly.

“Rog tends to see what he wants to see,” Brian laughed softly, “He say you had a crush on me but didn’t even ask if i had feelings for you.”

He went to kiss you but you pressed a finger to his lips a small grin playing at your lips.

“Then how were you told of this crush I have on you?” You asked fighting the grin.

Brian laughed and pressed a kiss to your finger before saying, “Freddie was waiting for me when I got home from recording and filled me in. Well more like made me realize a few things.”

“I’m giving him a fat kiss tomorrow morning,” you laugh happily.

Brian laughed with a nod and pulled you in to another tender kiss before wrapping a slender arm tenderly around you. 

Looks like this Cinderella found her prince after all. Here he is your Prince of the Universe...