#and there are SO many little reactions and moments and TOUCHES AND THINGS IVE MISSED IM SICK TO MY STOMACH ABOUT IT

[yourbasicqueerie]

do u guys also think that when the coven where sharing their scars in ep. 4, it was because of how they kinda sensed alice’s sorrow about having caused scars similar to hers to the other women and they wanted to make her feel less “ashamed” as to say abt her scars? kinda try to make her more comfortable with them and the scars, showing her they are a natural part of life yada yada ya or is that just me?

[yesimwriting]

hiii, this might seem weird but do u have any head cannons for when the reader is pregnant and how the Darkling would react?

a/n love this concept,, it's not weird at all!! i feel like there's so much here!! also i leave for college this month and im lowkey starting to freak out so ive been watching star wars movies for comfort 😭and now i have half a mind to write for them, especially the prequels (cough, cough,, anakin) 😭 😭 that should tell you where i am mentally

anyways lets get into the headcanons:))

--

- okay so like most of my headcanons, this is probably going to be all over the place bc i feel like so many different things could change how he would react. Like if the darkling x reader have been trying to get pregnant, or an unplanned pregnancy with someone he really likes, i also think whether or not the reader is a grisha affects his reaction too

- in general though, i think he'd lowkey have a breeding kink he'd def find something about the thought of you having his child really attractive bc for one thing, he wouldn't have to worry about being left alone and now he has an excuse to be a real 'protector'.

- also if youve read my other headcanons i am 100000% convinced that he has this thing where if he really likes someone he needs them to need him (let's all remember the whole 'i will strip you of everything you know and love speech until I'm your only shelter' speech he gave to Alina)

- also i kinda want to write a fic or blurb series or something that's just the darkling being super toxic in super thoughtful ways LMAO if that makes sense, like he's being super sweet but it's to make sure the reader is dependent on him

- and he def wants to be the protector to give himself some sense of assurance bc he's so desperate to not be alone anymore and bc the reader is the only person he has/loves, he wants to feel in control and like he's the less attached one

- okay,, let's get back to the pregnancy thing, anyways, your pregnancy is most definitely activating all of those senses and this was meant to be a sub plot but it kind of became it's own thing lol

- so lets get to the actual pregnancy reaction

if you two have been trying to get pregnant:

- when you tell him, he kind of like, pauses bc it's not every day that he gets surprised so it takes him a moment to register that he's experiencing shock lol, so he tenses and goes islent

- and then after he realizes that he's surprised and that it's bc of a good thing, he manages to relax

- meanwhile you're kind of freaking out bc he got so quiet?? you start to wonder if he's regretting ever wanting a child with you? and you're like two seconds away from a downspiral and then he...

- he touches your cheek and looks at you in a way you've never seen him look at anyone,, not even you

- the look is so warm and strong and full of fierce admiration that you feel foolish for ever thinking he didn't want this. And then he says something about how you're carrying his child and how he didn't realize he could adore you more and then he kisses you and it's all :)) warm:)

- he doesn't want anyone to know that he's expecting a child as long as possible bc of how many enemies he has and how he has to worry about you enough when people just know that you're his 'lover' (a title you never really liked, but one he tells you is necessary to make sure no one realizes the extent of his attachment)

- if you really want to tell your mother or someone of that relation, he won't be mad about it, but he just needs to know

- Genya is the only exception bc the darkling basically instructs her to look out for you,, but when you tell her she's like oh?? you guys just found out?

- miss girl most definitely noticed like a day and a half ago after you cried bc she couldn't find you ice cream the other night 😭and she just assumed you knew but weren't ready to tell anyone

- okay so this what i think is his most problematic expecting father trait would be. So i just ranted about how important secrecy would be to him but he's also the most overprotective person in the entire world,, like he was bad before but once he knows your with child?? yeah, if a man asks you about the weather, he's done for

- he's next to you in a second, ordering either you or the man to do some asinine task

- if you get mad about this (rightfully so) or even just point out how nothing is wrong and you having a casual conversation with a man who isn't even looking at you sexually won't hurt you or the baby, he'll lose rationality

- it depends on how much you push, but it'd be super easy to make him super possessive bc like i said, being bonded by a child has made him so much more intense (and he was pretty intense before)

- and if you push too much he'll lowkey forget about how cautious he's trying to be with you and pin you against the nearest wall and say something along the lines of 'are you already forgetting you're mine? that i own you, body and soul--is my child growing in you not enough of a reminder? because i'll give you another one if you need it.' (AH--i want to write a whole fic based on this line)

- also if the reader is grisha, especially if she's a sun summoner/special grisha like him, he def talks about the power that they've created and how proud he already is and how he can't wait to train together and be the most powerful family in the world

- not everything is perfectly happy though, bc now he feels more pressure to complete his plan and establish the world he wants his child to be born into

- so sometimes when he's working extra hard or is extra aggressive for no reason, you have to work at calming him down and reminding him that the best thing he can do for his child is be there for them (and the child's mother,, lol)

- sometimes he'll respond by actually listening to you and trying to make up for his absence or his aggression by being extra soft until you finally forgive him

- you never last that long, it's hard to be mad at him when he's coddling you and whispering such sweet things about he's so happy to have you and your future child

- overall, his first reaction is to swell with emotion, which he isn't used to, and so he becomes super protective but also extra lovey and you know that his overreactions are just him trying to show that he cares about you and your future child more than anything

If the pregnancy was unplanned:

- the initial reaction is pretty similar, only his state of shock lasts longer

- like i said at the beginning, he's not used to being surprised and an accidental pregnancy is so much more surprising than a planned pregnancy

- this really sucks for you bc he's not exactly known for his patience so you just kinda sit there and genuinely wonder if you're going to be a single mom or if you're going to want to deletus the fetus or something

- but then he takes a step towards you and you see how he's looking at you and you just know that that fierceness has to mean something good

- and at this point you're scared and nervous and feel so alone so tears are pricking at your eyes,, so he wipes his thumb across your cheek to wipe away tears you won't let spill

- he then whispers something really sweet about how you two are now together forever, as you should be

- it's really relieving bc you felt so alone and uncertain and he's such a smooth speaker that by the end of the night, you feel like this is a good thing

- if youre still hesitant/weighing your options, he's not above trying to (gently) manipulate you into thinking that what he wants may be the only way

- by that,, i don't mean outright tricking you bc he means everything he says, but he def is pushing the keeping the baby agenda,, especially if you're a grisha,, and even more so if you're a grisha with similar power levels to him

- he won't get angry at first bc he's not so out of touch that he's unaware of how shocking a pregnancy is to a woman who wasn't planning one,, but his patience is limited and if you fight it too much he will get mad and yell

- but unless you really don't want to have a child, it won't get to that bc he makes the idea of having a baby with him sound so perfect?? like you genuinely don't understand how he did that

- he chases away all of your worries and assures you that youre not alone and that even though it isn't planned he wouldn't rather anyone else carry his child

- the initial conversation would probably end in you two sleeping together again bc he finds the fact that you're carrying his child so attractive and bc being aware of the pregnancy makes him more possessive

- it's also a good way to fight any of your doubts

- speaking of being possessive though,, i feel like he could be a little more possessive/protective of a reader who didn't plan on getting pregnant bc your relationship has been less established

- no one sees you as anything to him and he doesn't want to start rumors now bc it's important to him that his enemies don't find out about you or his future child so he doesn't want that to change

- but he almost forgets about all of those reasons each time he sees a man get a little too close,, especially if that guy is flirty

- it takes all of his will power to not just go 'she's mine and if i wasn't worried about the stress that witnessing something violent would cause our unborn child, you'd be dead already, but if you're not gone by the time i turn around, i'll forget about caution'

- lots of close calls ngl!! at one point youre like 'if it bothers you so much, maybe you should tell someone??' and he's like 'no,, maybe,, shut up' and then you raise one eyebrow and he just closes his mouth and is like 'i mean,, i'll kiss you to shut you up, haha--dont be mad'

- youre the one that's pregnant but sometimes you think he might be the one experiencing the mood swings i swear 😭

- so your little theory gets tested,, he's not the type to gossip with his besties and be like 'guess who's officially my girlfriend, i knocked her up but it's not like it sounds--'

- so he's like ig you can tell genya

- once again genya is like ?? yall thought you were keeping that secret? couldn't be me

- but having it a little out in the open helps ease him just enough that youre actually capable of consoling him when he becomes jealous

- still though,, he's quick to go into possessive/pregnancy kink sex

- youre most def not mad about it,, unless pregnancy has you particularly sore

- he's normally pretty understanding about that and def doesn't mind pulling his weight in the bedroom when he needs

- honestly he'd be really good at being a source of calmness at the beginning, but as time goes on he becomes more and more worried about finishing his plans bc he didn't expect to have a child right now

- so he'd be more adamant about working/becoming more tense and would be more difficult to console if it was an accidental pregnancy

- when you call him out on it--or on anything while your pregnant--it's frustrating for you both bc the number one thing everyone knows is stress is bad for baby, so he's trying to keep you calm without backing down

- these argument always end with one of you clinging to the other,, and then the more angrier of the two just like shuts up, rolls their eyes, and lets go of the argument...at least for now

- the main difference between an accidental and intentional pregnancy would probably be how you perceive him,, bc an intentional pregnancy means youve talked about things but since you havent talked about anything your shocked about how soft he becomes ??

[disasterofastory]

Disaster of the season Part 2 (Colin B. x Reader)

Disaster of the season Part 2 /Final Colin Birdgerton x Reader Warnings: none

Four times when you embarrass yourself in front of the ton and one time when Colin decides you are the one for him.

III.

Despite your promise to not show yourself again in this season, you find yourself at a Ball in a new, pastel-colored dress. After your last disaster, your mother had to console your sorrow for days to make you leave the bed, and in the end, they had to call over Eloise to chase you out of your room.

The only reason you come is Prince Friedrich.  Of course, not because you want something from the young Prince, but because if he is here, no one will talk about you.

People look at your way as you walk in beside your parents, but they don’t give you more attention.

“You see?” Your mother asks you with a victorious smile. “I told you.”

“Great, mother,” you sigh at her childish behavior but can’t help and smile at her.

“Go and have fun.”

You gulp at the thought. Oh, yeah. Fun. Because you've had so much fun in this season already.

You grab a glass of juice to busy yourself with something while you walk around the ballroom.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Colin says your name to grab your attention from your thoughts.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you smile at the young man stopping in front of you.

“How are you?” He asks. “When I didn’t see you, I was worried you got sick.”

“I’m fine,” you reassure him. “I just needed a push to leave the house.”

“And the push was my sister, I assume?”

“Who else?”

“I’m glad she was successful. She is here somewhere with Penelope.”

“I will find them eventually,” you answer with a nod. You are sure you will hear the brown-haired girl's dissatisfaction soon enough. 

“Would you like to join me for a walk until then?” Colin asks you, offering his arm.

“Thank you,” you smile at him gratefully, accepting his gesture.

The night goes uneventfully. You don’t fall out of the window or bleed out in front of everyone. It’s a success.

Until now.

You can see Cressida’s swoon from the front row. Everybody gasps worriedly around you as the young woman falls into the Prince’s arms. Soon you can hear Daphne’s voice behind you, then it happens. She giggles at the girl’s obviousness, and you can’t help but laugh too.

Loudly. Clearly.

You gasp at your own reaction, trying to hide your uncontrollable giggles, which burst out of you in waves. People start to glance at you, confused.

“Go out,” Daphne whispers to you, seeing your problem. She tries to suppress her own giggles with better success than you.

Colin grabs your arm gently, pulling you out of the crowd. Tears burn your eyes as you start to cry from laughter. You can feel Cressida’s burning glare at the nape of your neck when your eyes meet with the Prince’s before you get lost among the people with Colin on your heels.

The smaller room with huge paintings is empty and calm. The tons' chatting gets quiet as Colin shuts the door, and you let out the laugh you tried to hide from everybody.

He smiles at your uncontrollable cheerfulness, watching you laughing to your heart content.

“I can’t go anywhere with you,” he says jokingly when you start to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” you chuckle, pulling down your gloves to wipe off your tears and the ruined mascara.

“Wait, let me…” He steps in front of you without a second thought. His touch is warm on your heated skin as he makes sure you are presentable again.

He still has some boyish features despite his age. 

“Thank you,” you smile at him, stepping back before somebody catches you.

“We should go back,” he says. “Go first, I’m sure Eloise has things to say.”

He looks after you as you smooth down your dress and adjust your hair. You still try to suppress your grin as you wave at him as a goodbye, disappearing behind the door. A small smile is constant on his face, looking around the empty room, watching but not really seeing the paintings on the dark painted walls.

A life with you would be adventurous and fun.

IV.

The weeks go by, and the ton slowly forgets your mistakes. Visitors come to your house with flowers and small presents to woo you with poetry and promises.

And you hate it.

Neither of them is the one you want. A few of them seem worthy and kind, while the others are just boring and too pompous. At the end of the day, your face hurts from the forced smiles, but your younger siblings enjoy immensely the chocolates and other sweets you get. Your father seems dissatisfied with your suitors, and he doesn’t waste time to let them know behind his usual polite demeanor.

“You will find the one, I’m sure of it,” he says to you comfortingly.

But that is the problem. You found him years ago.

With a sigh, you nod to reassure him, patting his hand on your knee.

Your jealousy for Daphne seems ridiculous now. Of course, for the ton, it's good that you have so many suitors, but for you, it just gets boring and tiring. The Bridgerton girl refused the Prince of Prussia to marry with the Duke while you sit in the drawing-room for days with men who don’t interest you in the slightest.

You get out of the carriage with your mother behind you in front of the Bridgertons’ imposing house. The wisterias bloom above the freshly cleaned windows, and bees buzz around from flowers to flowers as you walk to the entrance. The butler greets you with a polite smile and escorts you to the drawing-room where the Bridgerton women are already occupied with Lady Danbury.

They welcome you with joy as your mother joins them for a cup of tea while Eloise pulls you over to the loveseat to tell you everything about Lady Whistledown. The young girl seems enthusiastic and too obsessed with the mysterious woman. You smile and listen to her words with nods and hums as you steal a small piece of chocolate from the box on her lap.

"I still can't believe that you accused Mrs. Wilson,” you laugh, and Eloise hits your arm as an answer, but before she can continue with her theories, Colin and Anthony appear in the room with a respectful bow to their mother’s company and cheeky smiles to your way.

“Lady Whistledown?” Anthony asks with a tired sigh, sitting down on the sofa next to his sister.

“Who else?” Colin answers before you, sitting down next to you with a cookie in his mouth. His eyes shine as your gazes meet for a moment while Eloise begins her monologue about women and their derogatory role in society.

“But you will debut in the next season, won't you?” You ask her.

“If it’s up to me, then no,” she answers stubbornly.

“If it comforts you, I will be there too,” you sigh tiredly, leaning back on the backrest. You grab the pillow behind you to hug it on your lap.

“You don’t have suitors?” Colin asks, surprised, turning to you more in his seat.

“I have,” you reply. “They are just…” you grimace with a shrug instead of ending the sentence.

“They are not worthy enough?” Anthony asks, knowing the feeling. After Daphne, he knows the feeling well enough.

“You can say that,” you nod.

“I’m sure you will find somebody,” he reassures you with a gentle smile.

What you don’t see is the cheeky smile he sends to his little brother’s way. The boy’s face gets hot from his brother’s unwanted attention.

“Come on, my daughter,” your mother says out of the blue. “We still have to see the modiste.”

“Have fun,” Eloise says, and you hit her arm softly for her mockery.

What you don't notice is the little teacup between her fingers that falls out of her hand because of your playful slap. Eloise gasps, trying to grab the porcelain, but it's too late. The pleasantly warm tea pours onto your thigh, soaking your dress.

Colin looks at the ruined dress, then up to your mortified expression. His chest starts to hurt seeing your series of bad luck. You really need somebody who can protect you before a piano falls on you from nowhere.

“Poor girl,” Lady Danbury sighs, seeing the tea-stained dress. “It’s definitely not your season.”

V.

The dress you choose for the ball is light-colored with darker lace decorations. The white gloves on your arms are long enough to reach your elbows, and your hair tied up in curly locks with a silky ribbon.

You suppress the disappointment because of the season and your misfortune with love so you can enjoy the last ball of the season. You didn’t see Daphne since the Cressida swooning fiasco, and you hope you can have a few words with her before they go back to Clyvedon.

The garden they decorated for the ball is elegant and flowery.  Large chandeliers hang over the dancefloor, and the painting about the married couple attracts the eyes of the guests.

You stand at the edge of the black and white floor, watching the dancing couples. The music is loud but pleasant, and the chats around you mix with the songs. Your gaze wanders to Daphne, and despite that, she is beautiful as always something seems off with her. The young girl’s face is almost sad as she looks over at her husband.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Colin greets you with a small smile and a bow. “Can I have this dance?” He asks, offering his hand to you.

“It would be my pleasure,” you answer, accepting his proposal.

He leads you to the dancefloor when the orchestra starts to play a new song. His touch is warm on your waist, and his grip is gentle on your hand as you begin to move with him.

“How are you?” He asks you quietly.

“Well, I didn’t do anything horrible yet,” you reply and smile at him when he starts to laugh.

“Then I guess I have to look out for you,” he hums.

“I think I’m too helpless for that,” you sigh, playing with him.

The few minutes you spend in Colin’s arms are amazing. You even forget every disastrous thing that happened to you during the season. Of course, you didn’t find the love you wanted, but you still have time.

“Oh, god,” Colin says suddenly, looking up at the gloomy sky.

Raindrops fall on your shoulder, soaking your hair and dress. You follow the Bridgerton boy’s eyes up to the clouds until you feel him pull you out of the rain. You let him lead you, trying to step over a fresh puddle on the polished floor.

Without success.

The floor slips out under your legs, but your hands are still in Colin’s grip. A small shriek leaves your mouth as you fall on your knees, yanking the boy with you to the floor. He falls on his bottom with a grunt, and you can’t help yourself but laugh at his surprised face. He looks over at you, standing up in his wet clothes to help you up.

Your dress is darker than before, and your wet locks are stuck to your temple and neck.

“I can’t believe this,” he says when you are protected from the rain.

From the corner of your eyes, you can see Daphne laughing on the dance floor with Simon not far from her, but your focus is on the man in front of you.

“I’m so sorry,” you say to him. Your voice is joyful and remorseful at the same time.

Colin stares at you for what feels like long minutes. His face seems content and happy, and you can’t look away despite everyone else watches Daphne and Simon.

“Marry me,” he says after a while. He is so quiet you barely hear his words, and when you do, you can’t believe your ears.

“What?” You gasp.

“I want you to be my wife,” he says more loudly. “I can make you happy and… safe,” His last word is cheeky, but he is still serious as he searches your face for an answer. “I know you for years, and I know our life would be everything but boring and unhappy.”

He watches your soaked form, your smeared mascara, and your messy hair, and his chest tightens. Or just his feelings get bigger. He can’t decide. The only thing he knows is the desire in him to be with you all the time.

“So what do you say? Will you marry me?” He urges you for an answer breathlessly.

“Yes. A million times, yes.”

[hopelesshunny]

the love languages part ii: physical touch (f.w.)

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred has always felt the need to touch y/n and after a drunken night he realizes he can't sleep without her.

warnings: very, very light profanity, drinking/underage drinking, kissing, bed sharing.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: my second instalment is here - i did in fact say i would wait until monday but i was really excited to write this one!! i am so grateful for all the love i have received on this series so far, i cannot thank you guys enough. i still feel like i have a ways to go in improving my writing - but as always my ask is open if you have comments, questions, concerns, luv or just wanna chat:)

*all photos are from pinterest*

series masterlist // part i // part iii // part iv

For as long as Y/N had known Fred he had always been touchy. Fred’s need to constantly touch her was never unwelcomed, she relished in the way he’d wrap an arm around her shoulders when he’d walk her to class or how he’d lean into her when he laughed uncontrollably. However, she had always assumed that he was like this with everyone he was friends with, that he just needed to touch people in some way in order to feel close to them. This was very true but Y/N never knew that it was her touch that he craved the most, that as soon as he saw her, he longed to feel the soft skin of her cheek, the way her shoulders shook when she laughed or the rise and fall of her chest while he laid on her stomach in the common room, gentle sighs leaving her mouth every so often.

Fred couldn’t count on two hands the amount of times he almost told Y/N his feelings for her, the words sat on his tongue so often that he was starting to believe that they felt more comfortable in his mouth which is why they never launched themselves into the air. He didn’t know why he couldn’t force the confession out, there was always just a cloud of doubt and fear that swarmed his mind whenever the thought presented itself. But alas, here he was sitting across from her watching her flip her hair over her shoulder and let out a light laugh as she found whatever George was saying quite amusing.

“Y/N! You have to come, you literally can’t miss a party like this!” George practically shouted, a shocked look on his face.

“I’m so behind on my studies.” Y/N started, resting her chin on her hands. “I’ll be practically chained to the library all weekend as is, I can’t go to a party.”

“Y-You’re not coming tonight?” Fred questioned, his eyes hopeful as if he had heard the conversation wrong.

“Sorry Freddie.” She pouted. “You can tell me all about it at breakfast tomorrow.” At that Fred reached across the table to run his finger across her knuckles, relishing in the way her skin felt under his calloused fingertip, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to how they would feel against his lips. However, he was pulled out of his daydream by the sound of George making gagging noises to the side of him as Y/N giggled.

“In that case I’ll have to drink a little extra.” He threw a wink her way. “To make sure I don’t bore you back to sleep tomorrow morning.”

“You never bore me, Trouble.” She smiled before saying her goodbyes to the rest of the table and making her way to the library. The nickname brought a gentle smile to his face, it was the first thing she’d ever called him. During her first year Y/N had been studying in the common room when the twins busteled in, laughing and hollering about another successful prank. When she asked what they were so excited about, the two boys were more than happy to explain, Fred wildly acting out the look on Snape’s face before George asked her name and introduced himself in response. Before Fred even had the chance to open his mouth to follow suit she stopped him.

“You sound like trouble, that’s what I’ll call you.”

George laughed at his twins new-found nickname but it made Fred’s heart swell - the fact that she had specifically given him a special name, the smile on her face when she said it and the way she never left their side since that day, produced a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. Now, here he was, years later, with the same girl, same nickname, same smile and the same butterflies.

Fred kept his promise to Y/N, he was drunk, very, very drunk. He stumbled through the Gryffindor common room, his feet feeling like they were trying to carry him off in different directions until he finally found an armchair to ground himself with. Plopping himself down into the chair he looked out into the crowd of people, some laughing others whispering, couples hanging off each other, it made him miss Y/N. If she was here she’d be sitting next to him, his arm slung around her shoulder as she giggled over the way he slurred his words and she’d always made sure he got to bed safely before finding her way to her own room. Fred groaned as George sat in the chair across from him, pushing a glass of water towards him, causing his twin to chuckle at his annoyed state.

“At least you’ll have something funny to tell Y/N in the morning.” He laughed. “Tell her all about how your drunk ass could barely walk straight.” Fred leaned his head back on his neck.

“I should go see her.” He spoke quietly, just loud enough to convince himself of the idea but hopefully not loud enough for George to hear. He knew that his drunken state failed him however, when his brother quirked an eyebrow at him.

“And do what? Spill your guts?” George chuckled. “Either by finally telling her you’re bloody in love with her or literally?” This earned another groan from Fred as he shot daggers at him.

“That’s it.” Fred started, chugging the glass of water that was placed in front of him. “I’m going.”

“Best of luck mate.” George spoke as he watched Fred stumble his way through the crowd.

“Where’s he going?” Ron asked, suddenly appearing by his brother's side.

“On a death mission.” George responded.

Fred let out a sigh of relief when he finally made his way out of the common room and began the trek towards her dorm room. But his mind was running rampant, what if George was right? What if he was just better off going to bed? Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him, she was probably tired from studying all night and the last thing she wanted was him keeping her up. But despite his doubts his feet still carried him towards her, the walk was sobering, which he would need if he planned on getting a coherent sentence out when he finally made his way to her.

“Y/N?” He called softly when he opened her room door, trying his very best to keep quiet to not wake her roommates. He recognized her frame immediately, bundled under bed sheets, her hair messy and lips slightly parted. He stood over her, watching the way her chest rose and fell as soft breathes left her mouth. “Y/N.” He spoke again, shoving his hands in his pockets, fearing her reaction to his sudden visit. Her eyes shot open but when they found his, her face softened, a small smile forming.

“You scared me, Trouble.” She laughed lightly. “Are you okay?” She asked, the concern that laced her voice made him have to restrain from kissing every square inch of her face.

“I’m okay, just a little drunk.” He hiccuped, his response earning a bright smile from her as she scooted to the side and patted the bed, signially for him to sit next to her. He graciously accepted her offer, his hand immediately finding her knee, needing to touch her. She leaned into his touch as he slurred on about how Ron tried to flirt with Hermione but failed miserably and how red Harry turned when George dared him to kiss Ginny. Neither of them could remember falling asleep, they were too caught up in each other's whispered stories and soft giggles.

When Fred woke the next morning, his head pounding, his legs feeling as if they had carried him across the entire country, he looked down to find his best friend fast asleep on his chest. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around his middle with his hand tangled in her hair as she shifted slightly on top of him. He felt like he should panic and apologize for last night’s antics but she looked so peaceful and he was so close to her that he couldn’t bring himself to worry about barging into her room at who knows what time.

“Mornin’ Trouble.” She spoke, her voice groggy and flooded with sleep. “How are you feeling?” She asked genuinely, pulling herself from his embrace to stretch her arms above her head, making him curse himself for ever moving and waking her.

“I’ve been much better.” He groaned, sliding his hands down his face. “Guess I don’t have to fill you in on last night's events at breakfast anymore.”

“No, you did a sufficient job of that last night.” She giggled. “But we can still go to breakfast, you need to eat something.” Y/N pulled him out of her bed, still fully clothed in what he was wearing the night before.

He grumbled his way through breakfast as George and Ron cracked jokes about how drunk and lovesick he was, Fred throwing warning looks their way as Y/N laughed seeming unbothered by the way they were pulling her into they’re jokes, taking it all as a way to poke fun at Fred. But his head was still swimming, the feeling of her weight on top of him and her hands pressed against his chest, all he wanted was to be back in that position again. He couldn’t get it out of his head for the rest of the day and no matter how many times he attempted to distract himself from her that night as he lied in bed his mind kept travelling back to Y/N. He lay awake staring at the ceiling thinking about how empty his arms felt without her in them - she was addicting, he had always known that, since the moment he met her he had not been able to pull himself away from her. But now he was in too deep, he needed to be there with her.

So, here he was, in his pyjamas, on his way to her dorm room once again, all shame and guilt left long behind, just needing to be near her. Fred padded into her room, his hands rooted in his pockets once again, fully expecting to have to wake her just as he did the night before. But she was wide awake, sitting on her bed, a novel clasped in her fingers, a smile forming on her face when he came into her line of vision.

“Did you miss me?” She teased, as he ran a hand through his hair, rocking on his heels.

“Can’t sleep.” He mumbled. “Was wondering if you were still up.” He said, offering her a grin.

“Well then Trouble, you’re in luck.” She smirked, moving to allow space for him to lie next to her. Fred laid his head in her lap as she turned her attention back to the book in her hand while the other snaked its way into his hair. All the trouble sleeping that had been previously plaguing him melted away with her nails lightly scratching his scalp.

Over the course of the next week Fred and Y/N fell into this routine, he would lay away in his bed before eventually giving into the knowledge that he could not sleep without her any longer before he would make his way to her room, crawl into bed beside her and fall into the soundest sleep that has ever graced him. In the beginning, he was apprehensive, worried that she would reject him at some point and tell him that she wanted to sleep alone. But she never did, every night she shot him a warm smile and opened her arms to him. As the week went on his worries morphed themselves into something new however, he was no longer concerned about her rejecting his company but that she would instead reject his feelings for her. That she would eventually realize that he was in love with her and tell him that she never felt that way about him and was just trying to be a good friend.

“I don’t think I can sleep without you anymore.” Fred spoke into the darkness of the room, his voice audibly shaking, the silence that filled the space causing his stomach to turn.

“Mhmm.” Y/N started, tightening her grasp on him. “I can’t complain, you’re a great pillow.” He let out a light laugh, rubbing small circles in her back.

“It’s true.” He spoke, more seriously. “I haven’t been able to sleep at all lately, but as soon as I get into your bed, I’m out.” She sighed. “They must have better beds in the girls dorms.” He added, which earned a giggle from her.

“I don’t know about the quality of the beds, maybe it’s who's in it.” She spoke, her voice quiet as she bit her lip now regretting her sudden burst of confidence. Fred was silent for a moment before he spoke, a deep breath filling his lungs before he had the nerve to confess to her.

“I always thought that the reason I always had to touch you was because I liked to feel close to people. But it’s different with you.” He shifted to look at her. “I need to touch you, need to feel your skin. Fuck Y/N, I just want to hold your hand in front of everybody and kiss you in between classes and fall asleep next to you every night.” He searched her face looking for any sense of emotion but all he could find was her typical soft smile. “It’s just that I-I-” He started.

“I love you too Fred.” She cut him off, placing her palm against his cheek, he turned into her touch despite the shock that was lacing his features.

“You what?” He said, a giggle falling from her mouth as she clasped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to save him some pride.

“The first night you came to my room, after you left the party, you kept saying you loved me in your sleep.” He groaned at her confession. “I was worried it was just drunk babbles but-”

“But I do love you.” He finished. “I’ve loved you for years.”

“I love you too, Trouble.” She giggled, placing a long awaited kiss to his lips.

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[descendantofthesparrow]

Harry Hook x Daughter of Tinkerbell!Reader - fluff oneshot - pillow stealing

as promised, another fluff oneshot for yall after the chaos/angst of the last rewrite chapter, epilogue for it coming soon! 

=

Of all the things to happen on this trip.

Getting roomed with Harry Hook for the night was not one you were expecting.

…and the room you had been shacked in with him…only had one.damn.bed.

You let out a soft sigh, rubbing your face as Ben repeatedly apologized to you and Harry about the mix-up “I’m really sorry guys, I thought this room was listed as a two-bed room, and I don't know how you two ended up listed together…maybe the couch comes out?” he walked past Harry and pulled the cushions of the couch, shoulders dropping when he couldn’t find any evidence of a pull-out bed. “shoot I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to deal with it”

Ben gave one last apologetic look and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. You and Harry locked eyes for a moment before quickly looking away, sighing as you looked at the, thankfully queen-sized, bed.

Harry tossed his bag on the bed and sat down, avoiding your eyes as he reached behind him for the tv remote that was sitting next to one of the pillows.

“So” you started, taking off your bag from your shoulder and letting it drop at your feet, Harry finally looked at you “how are we going to do this?” he just raised his brow “who’s taking the bed and who’s taking the couch? Or are we just gonna deal with it and both sleep on the bed?”

Harry just shrugged, turning on the tv and groaning a bit “great we hav’ ta pay ta watch anythin’? fuck tha’” he turned off the tv and chucked the remote behind him, falling back on the bed and letting out a sigh.

You sighed in frustration, he was hardly being any help to the sleeping situation, and it was already almost midnight, and you were exhausted.

You glanced from the couch to the bed again and sighed, Harry was way too tall for the couch and you didn’t want to deal with his complaints of it for an entire night. “I’ll take the couch” you muttered, picking your bag back up and setting it on the couch.

Harry sat up and raised his brow “really? And here I thought yeh would make me suffer?” you gave him a look.

“I’m not that mean” he smirked.

“says the pixie with the anger issues~” you felt your face heat up as you glared at his handsome smirking face, but forced it down and grabbed your sleeping clothes and stomped into the bathroom.

Harry chuckled to himself and stood, grabbing his sleeping clothes and loudly proclaiming he was getting dressed “Fine! Just don’t come in here till I’m done!”

Harry hummed a sea shanty to himself as he changed into a red tank top and black sweatpants, stuffing his day clothes back into his bag.

He walked over to the bathroom and knocked twice “I’m done changing”

“thanks” your muffled voice yelled back “and I just noticed there's a lock on the door” Harry snorted as the lock clicked and he walked over to the couch, sitting down and making a face.

“the pixie Is not gon’ sleep a wink on this thing” he muttered, standing up and rubbing his fingers against the scratchy cushions.

He heard the bathroom door open and he turned, his eyes immediately drifting to the large pixie wings that protruded from your back. As he stared you gave him a look “you look like you’ve never seen pixie wings before” you muttered, cocking your hip and raising your brow.

“yeh always cover yers” Harry muttered, hand twitching with the want to touch, but knowing unless you had permission it was seen as disrespectful to touch pixie wings.

You tilted your head and shrugged “too many people have just touched them without asking, I’d rather just avoid it by covering them” Harry pouted slightly, making you blink in surprise.

“yeh shouldn’t…they’re beautiful” Harry muttered to himself, hoping you wouldn’t hear him, but thanks to your pointed ears you heard him loud and clear.

You pretended you didn’t as to not embarrass him.  You walked past him and sat on the couch, immediately standing up as soon as your hand touched the cushions “I am not sleeping on that, that is horrific” Harry chucked at your disgusted face and nodding towards the bed.

“I won't mind sharin’ the bed, it's more than big enough for both of us” you glared up at him, crossing your arms.

“and what's that supposed to mean?” Harry just guested to you, and you closed your eyes. Yes, you were much shorter than the pirate VK, 5 foot exactly, both a blessing and a curse from your mother's side.

“yer a shortie pixie, we can easily share the bed without even knowing the others there, come on yeh don’t hate me that much ta not be comfortable” Harry pouted, attempting to guilt-trip you into sleeping in the same bed as him.

You sighed, pinching your nose “Fine, but not because your little pout routine is working, but because I don’t want to sleep on that devil piece of furniture.” Harry grinned and turned, taking his bag off the bed and walking over to the side that was facing the door.

You watched him get under the covers, stopping for a moment as you didn’t move “yeh gettin’ in or not?” you sighed and forced yourself to move forward, pulling back the covers and settling under them on your stomach, folding your wings down to your back and snuggling into the pillow.

“night pixie” Harry turned off the light and flopped down, turning on his side and letting out a heavy breath.

“night hook” you muttered back, sleep already gripping onto you.

-

You woke up to your head being at a slightly awkward angle, cracking your eyes open you saw the digital clock on the nightstand read 3:39 am. You lifted yourself up a bit and looked down, furrowing your brows as you noticed your pillow was missing.

You glanced over and huffed, Harry had commandeered both of the pillows and now were resting beneath his head. He was still sound asleep.

You were too tired to care about what you were going to do within the next moment.

You slid over to Harry’s side and dropped your head onto Harry's chest, groaning in slight objection as he sat up slightly and noticed you on his chest “uh, pixie?” his voice was low and gravely, your tired brain making you smile in reaction “wha’ are yeh?”

“You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.” You grabbed onto Harry's tank top and let your full weight rest on Harry’s chest, smiling as Harry's arm wrapped around your waist and his hand resting on the space between your wings.

“Alright then” Harry grumbled, settling back on the pillows and closing his eyes.

You cuddled into Harry's side and sighed, closing your eyes and letting your legs curl around Harry. You heard a soft chuckle, Harry's free hand reaching up and cupping the back of your head.

“Night pixie” Harry whispered, a soft smile on his face as you responded with the same tone.

“Night Hook”

-end-

short but sweet, and ive been wanting to do a “only one bed” trope for a while and i finally did it lol.

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[domthedevil]

Can I request a angsty smut piece with Mammon and an MC that is friendly to everyone but actually loves him back but thinks he doesn’t have a high opinion of them because of all the insults? Like they believe them and it makes them sad so they think that their feelings are unrequited? Any gender pronouns are fine if you have time please -🐻

I’m sorry it’s so long! My angst isn’t very good (a little rushed) but I hope you enjoy! I had fun writing this~! 👻

Warnings: sad times, but then spicy times

Fateful Misunderstanding gn!mc

“N-not that I want to spend more time with MC.”

“Th-there’s no way THE great Mammon would fall for a mere human.”

“Hey! My one and only true love is Goldie here!”

It hurt hearing him say it over and over again. Insisting that you weren’t close, that he didn’t need you, that he didn’t want you. It hurt. Yet all you wanted was to hold his hand, hug a little longer, kiss his cheek, tell him how much you really...love him.

You shouldn’t have been surprised. He’s a demon, and not just any demon. THE Avatar of Greed. And knowing how popular he is with just about everyone made you feel as if he were out of your league. Why would he ever be interested in some human...?

But when he noticed the way you frowned around him, when you smiled your usual smile to everyone else, he started to regret his behavior. He wanted your smile more than anyone. How can he earn it back?

“MC, come watch a movie with me tonight.”

“Are you sure? I mean...you want to watch it with me?”

“O-of course!” Mammon was surprised and almost flinched at your hurt expression. What had he done? “MC...please come...I miss spending time with ya.”

He did? Mammon missed you? Your heart ached, hoping desperately that meant something. But not letting your heart take the lead just yet.

Later that night you were laughing and playing games with each other as the movie, long forgotten by you both, played. It was so easy to forget his words when he treated you like this. When you were alone and relaxed, everything was perfect. So why didn’t he feel the same way?

“MC. Im glad you’re smiling again.” His voice was soft and warm. But you couldn’t let hope draw you in any further. Lest you get hurt even more.

“Thanks. I’m sorry it’s hard to be around me. But I’m happy we’re spending time together.”

“Hard to be around? What are ya sayin?”

“Well...I know you don’t...like me very much.”

“WHAT!?”

You jumped slightly as you leaned away from him. You were both on the couch he kept just clean enough for the two of you. A look of shock and horror ran across his face. A face that said “Are you insane?”.

“MC! You’re the one I want to spend the most time with. I don’t not like you! I mean...” Mammon panicked as he spoke. Mortified that you’d think he...didn’t love you. “MC...I love you.” His red face still held a look of shock. Did he really just say it.

A few tears fell from your eyes as his words hit you again. But this time it wasn’t the gut punch they’d always been. The grip around your heart loosened for the first time in a long while.

“You always say...how much you don’t like me. How much you don’t want to be alone with me. I just thought...you really hated me.”

“Don’t cry! Ah, MC!” Mammon threw his arms around you. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry...”

You held him back, as tightly as you’d always wanted to. Pulling away only slightly, just enough to press his forehead to yours, Mammon wiped your tears way with the pads of his thumbs. Though your eyes still watered, you were soon smiling with joy.

“I love you too Mammon.”

Mammon’s heart almost stopped in his chest. He had already forgotten he said it. But hearing you say it now made him forget any embarrassment or regret he had. Without being able to stop it, Mammon’s lips were on yours. Soft at first but hungrier as you kissed him back.

Placing your hands on his face, Mammon almost purred against your lips. More. More of your touch. More of you. Parting your lips with his, Mammon’s smooth tongue played with yours. Fighting yours in an endless battle. It was like you were both pouring as much as you could into each other. Only when you both needed air did you pause a moment. Panting and gasping for air, you couldn’t believe the look of desire you saw on his face. You wondered if you looked the same. Because all you wanted was him.

“Mammon...”

“C’mon.” Mammon picked you up and tossed you on his bed not too far from the couch you shared.

Gently he eased you down, hovering over you to see your face. A frustrated growl left him as he kissed you again.

“Do ya know how long Ive wanted to do this?” He punctuated his rhetorical question with a rougher kiss. “How long I wanted to tell ya?”

Bracing your hands against his chest, Mammon pressed himself against you. You wish you could ask him the same things. So badly did you want to hold him, kiss him, be kissed.

You felt his hips rut against your leg slightly. You could feel how hard his dick was. Your own hips moved, returning the motion against your own. A groan slipped from Mammon who buried his face against your neck. You moaned his name as your hands ran down his back. Kisses planted themselves against your neck, making a chill run through you. Mammon silently communicated with you. Both of you moving apart for a moment to remove your clothing.

He undressed you slowly, taking in every inch of your perfect body. Curves, scars, freckles, anything and everything on your body, he made sure to memorize. On the contrary, you were too excited to get him naked. He laughed as you made quick work of every button and zipper. But he stayed in his underwear, there was a lot ahead of you and he didn’t want to ruin the surprise just yet.

Parting your legs he lapped at the sensitive tip of your sex. Sucking and licking experimentally. The volume of your moaning told him just what you liked. His thumbs dug into the underside of your thighs as you pressed the against his head, reacting to a pleasure reaching your core.

“Mammon...That feels good. So good.” Your hushed voice made his cock twitch. Hearing you say his name with such need was too arousing.

His fingers, slick with lube, pressed into you one by one. The feel of his tongue on the tip of your heat kept you relaxed while he stretched you. Feeling not only how many fingers inside you, but how deep they anchored inside had you gasping. Scissoring you open, his fingers pressed against your soft insides.

“Fuck, MC. I want to give ya more, but-! I don’t know if I can wait any longer...”

“I want it Mammon. Just like I’ve always wanted you.”

“I love you so much MC...”

With his usual cocky smile, he rested on his knees to remove his dark underwear. Stroking his throbbing cock, Mammon watched your reaction. He was long and thick, you could feel your mouth water slightly. Was he going to fit? Blushing deeper than you’d ever seen, Mammon rubbed the tip of his dick against your entrance.

“Don’t look at me with such hungry eyes...it makes me wanna take ya even more.”

“I am hungry Mammon. I...I’m ready.”

The large tip slipped inside you with some resistance. Mammon wished he’d taken more time to prep you. But you loved how you felt stretched out by his thick cock. Easing in slowly, Mammon braced himself on his hands on either side of you. His panting was heavy. A visible sweat on his forehead. You were so tight, your walls hugged him perfectly. He was almost too scared to move. Already wanting to come. Your own moan echoed slightly as he moved in and out of you thoughtfully. Mammon was almost hypnotized by the expression of pleasure you were making. He’d dreamed about this. He’d always wanted to make this happen somehow.

His hips picked up pace as your moans egged him on. Hearing you enjoy his cock, his love, and his rhythm made him want more. Your own hands gripped at his white locks as you kissed at his neck. Nibbling every other spot. When he reached a deep spot that made you clench around him, your teeth sank in slightly harder. Earning a deep growl from him.

“It’s so good...” it left you like a chant. “It’s so good, Mammon. I love you.”

“MC...Come for me. Let me hear you say my name.”

“Yes. Mmmnnn! Mammon...Mammon!”

Gripping your hips, he slammed his cock inside you, aiming for the familiar tight spot he felt before. Closing his eyes, he concentrated hard on not finishing just yet. He needed to feel you come around him. It wasn’t long after that the stars in your vision began to blur. Lips crashing against his, tongue tangling in a heated kiss. You were on the edge, feeling your core tighten unbearably so.

“Mammon...coming...hmmm.”

“Good MC, me too.”

As your kiss continued, you both fell over the edge quickly. Feeling him fill you up to the brim. You could feel how much pent up cum he was shooting inside you. It took a moment before you felt him empty himself completely.

“S-sorry, I didn’t know it’d be so much.”

After cleaning up, sharing softer kisses and cuddling up under his blankets, you felt so elated once more. Now you knew how he really felt. You knew how you really felt. And that was that Mammon was one of your deepest loves. And he was thinking the same thing.

[nose-bandaid]

love, at its core

hi!! i hope you're havin a good day rn 😊😊 i just saw requests are open??? i was gonna ask if i could request something with yuto?? like his s/o is chillin with him at home and then they just get hit with the realization "omg my boyfriend is just sitting there and i can kiss him any time i want??? all i have to do is ask??? is it really that simple???? what a concept..." i know its very specific but its just smth ive been thinkin about these days?? like people datin can just kiss each other any time???? its just so simple yet so special at the same time??

Yuto x (gender neutral) Reader fluff | 2k words

synopsis: waking up one day, you were hit with a curious thought that made you realize how lucky you were to have a boyfriend

a/n: here you go anon !! i hope that this is what you wanted and that i didn't get carried away with the idea 😅 enjoy<3

ngl this ended up a little similar to -27°C but i love domestic relationships so it's cool

There was something peculiar about living with your boyfriend.

Nothing had changed since yesterday, or last month, or even the year before. You've been living together for a while now and today shouldn't have been any different. It shouldn't.

However, an intriguing thought in your mind constantly nudged you to love him even more today.

When you woke up, the first thing you did was roll over onto your side to study Yuto's face. Even asleep, he was incredibly pretty and you reached a hand to brush the strands of hair that had fallen over his face. He's been growing it for quite a while now, and oftentimes he would tie it all back in a small ponytail that you thought was endearing. But you thought he looked especially fluffy when he let his hair down. The sight of it that morning, however, tickled your own face and you tucked it behind his ear with a small smile.

"Better?" You whispered, not really expecting a reply because you believed he was still asleep. But he did, in fact, whisper a quiet "better" and you locked eyes with him in surprise.

"G'morning." He croaked out, trying to rub the sleep out of his face.

"Good morning Yuto," You replied, laughing when he leaned into your touch and tried to snuggle back to bed. "It's time to wake up, sleepyhead."

He wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer, burying his face into your neck to plant a kiss there. "But there's nothing planned for today." He whined, and it came out more of a question than it did as a complaint.

You wriggled your way out of the hug and poked his cheek. "You promised you'll make breakfast today though!"

That caused him to stir.

Yuto hefted himself into a sitting position with a huff and sent you a lazy grin. "I guess you're right; I can't back out of that."

Leaning in to plant one last kiss on your forehead, he patted your shoulder before standing up. "Just stay in bed for a while longer, love. I'll let you know when breakfast is ready."

You watched him quietly as he changed out of his pyjamas and exited the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar so that you didn't feel completely alone. Placing a hand on your cheek, you wondered why today, of all days, your heart suddenly decided to skip a beat with every word he said. With every move he made.

It was probably then, that something within you clicked and made you realize that wow, you have a boyfriend.

And you have the privilege of waking up next to him every morning and seeing him smile.

=====

You got out of bed not long after Yuto left the room. The sound of the dishes and sizzling on the stove only made you want to wake up and join him in the kitchen.

When you arrived, Yuto greeted you with a nod towards the coffee brewer, already boiled and ready to serve. On your way to grab a mug, you glanced over his shoulder to see what he was making and sent him an approving smirk.

"Looking good, Yu."

He laughed as you poured yourself a cup of the drink and returned to the table. "Are you talking about me or the food?"

You shrugged. "That's up to you. It could be both, you know."

"Well, you came just in time to eat my beautiful breakfast." He replied and transferred the food onto the plates neatly laid out on the table. His spare hand reached into the drawer behind him to grab the utensils and he handed it over to you. "Time to dig in?"

You puckered your lips slightly as you accepted the food. "Give me a kiss first?"

If the sudden request for affection surprised Yuto, he didn't show it. Instead, he promptly grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for a quick kiss on the lips. He tasted like the chapstick he always kept with him — a mix of vanilla and strawberries.

"Another, please." You asked when you separated, eliciting another one of his lighthearted laughs.

"Anything for you, love."

The kiss was deeper this time, and you blindly dropped the fork and spoon somewhere on the empty space of the table in order to wrap your arms around his neck. Beyond the sweetness of his lips, you could taste the lingering mix of morning breath and bitter coffee.

"Yuto," You muttered, breaking the kiss. "Have you brushed your teeth yet?"

"That's..." He averted his gaze. "I'll do it later, I promise. Let's just eat breakfast before it gets cold?"

"Okay, okay, you win." You decided, backing off to pull yourself a chair. "Let's test out your chef skills."

The breakfast was delicious and he beamed when you praised his cooking skills. You found yourself settled right beside Yuto, as opposed to your usual seat directly in front of him. With an arm linked into his (which admittedly made eating a little more difficult for both of you), you stayed close to the warmth of his body. Placed in front of you, carefully balanced against the box of tissues was your phone playing a video that you've been wanting to show him for a long time now.

Already knowing what's going to come next, you spent most of the time watching Yuto's face, catching every reaction and comment he made about the video.

It was the mundane things like these that made you appreciate him — or even the concept of dating — even more. Sure, going out on exciting dates, sharing thrilling memories. But being able to see him do the most normal activities while having him by your side? You believed that was the peak of a relationship.

"You have something on your face." Yuto's voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked at him in confusion. Before you could register his words, a thumb was already wiping your cheek, clearing you of your mess. "There."

"I love you, you know that?" You blurted out the moment you got over the initial shock.

"And I love you more, you know that?" He cocked his head, mimicking your voice.

You buried your face into your hands, unable to handle his cuteness. "Gosh, you're going to be the death of me."

"I'll make sure to take credit at your funeral, then."

=====

You spent the rest of the day trailing Yuto more than you intended to. But you couldn't help it when everything he did made your heart flutter. It felt like the beginning of your relationship all over again. You were amazed when you realized that you could simply ask him for affection and you would just... receive it?

There really was someone in this world who loved you just as much as you loved them. If you asked for a kiss, Yuto would willingly kiss you — this morning was proof of that. And you knew for a fact, that if you hugged him, he would always hug you back. There was hardly a time where he didn't return the "I love you" when you said it to him. And he never forgets to show you just how much you meant to him.

They were all simple things. Things that you'd normally overlook because they were so normal. But at the same time, they were the things you treasured the most.

This concept of dating... was quite a unique one.

"Yuto~" You called out to the boy who, oddly enough, was just standing in the middle of the room, staring out the window. "Can I have a kiss?"

As much as dating piqued your curiosity, you weren't going to complain about how simple it was at its core.

Without asking any questions, Yuto pecked you softly on the cheek, lingering there for an extra moment. You could feel his lips curl up into a smile before he pulled away.

He turned back to the window and squinted his eyes when the sun shone brightly on his face. "The weather's nice today, kinda makes me want to go on a walk."

"I'll come with you!" You offered readily and he perked up at the idea.

"Is that so? Then I guess that's a good incentive to go on a walk." He hummed.

"Of course I'd come with you!" You argued, following him to the front door and slipping a light coat on. "But on one condition."

"And what's that?"

"Let me hold your hand?"

After his shoes were put on, he quietly held out his hand for you to take, and that was enough of an answer.

======

Later in the evening, the two of you were relaxing on the couch watching a rerun of an old show you've watched far too many times now. But with the comfort of the plot and the way it never failed to make you laugh, neither of you minded.

Yuto let you hug his arm as you played with one of his hands. Like this morning, you found yourself spending more time thinking about him, and the show soon became background noise. You inspected every inch of his hand, placing soft kisses on it once in a while. You thought it was incredible, how every single part of him — both inside and out — could be so beautiful.

"What's up with you today?" He asked playfully when you finally distracted him enough to tear his eyes away from the screen. In the back of your mind, you noticed you were both missing out on one of your favourite scenes. "You've been clingier than usual since morning, did I miss something?"

When you didn't answer right away, Yuto's eyes widened as he suddenly sat straight up. "Wait, I didn't miss something, right?"

You laughed at his reaction and pat his shoulder reassuringly. "There's nothing special happening today, Yu, don't worry. I was just thinking..."

"About?" He relaxed back into the couch and let you pull him into your embrace.

You pondered over how to answer him for a couple of seconds. "About how lucky I am to have you."

"That's it?" He asked, baffled at the simplicity.

"Well, in short, yeah." You hesitantly answered and met his gaze when you felt it burning into you. The look in his eyes was a familiar one; a mix of curiosity and determination as he encouraged you to continue.

"It's normal for me to wake up next to you, and see you go to work, and watch stupid shows together and eat meals together and kiss each other goodnight. I don't normally think twice about all of that. But this morning, I realized that being able to do those things with you is so special and I'm so lucky to have you as my boyfriend."

"You know," He started thoughtfully and laced the hand you were holding into yours, tracing light patterns with his thumb. "I've never thought about it that way until you mentioned it."

"It puts things in a different perspective, doesn't it?"

Yuto's eyes wandered as he spoke. "It does, and it's a nice reminder to appreciate everything that we have right now."

"Exactly!" You agreed, happy that he understood what you were getting at.

"Is this why you've been exploiting my kisses today then?"

You froze. "Uh, maybe?"

"And to think that I was worried about missing something important." He let out a dramatic sigh.

"Listen, this was important okay!"

"I know, I know." He moved your clasped hands onto his lap, pulling you closer to him. "I'm glad you brought it up, it's a nice thing to think about."

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence to focus on the last few minutes of the show, everything long forgotten until the credits rolled across the screen. Yuto shut off the TV once they did, tired of the mindless entertainment and stretched as you spoke up again.

"So... I can still have another kiss though, right?"

He smiled. "Yes, of course, you can."

[seriouslysam8]

Hello, Sam!

I have just started reading your series Moments in Time that I saw Breanie recommended and I must say, it is absolutely wonderful so far!

Croup: This was not at all what I expected! I stumbled across this universe recommended on Breanie’s tumblr and thought I better start in order. PUH-Tunia really is a bitch! You can just see the abuse already inflicted on him and he’s only three! The mental anguish of a three year old being told he can’t have nice things because he breaks them can’t have been good for poor Harry! No wonder’s so unsure of everything later on. Yelling at him because he’s sick like it’s his fault! Im surprised she even gave him medicine! Wanting him to sleep outside in the “frigid air” and only deciding not to because the neighbours might see really says a lot about her personality. Ive never read anything from Petunia’s point of view before but well done. I hate her even more than before. I look forward to following this new adventure that is your moments in time universe. Great read!

The Boggart of Grimmauld Place: This was just so heartwarming! Harry getting to spend even a little time with Remus and Sirius at Grimmauld Place was what was missing from canon. Memories of his grandparents, learning about them. It was just lovely! When Harry is ashamed of wanting Sirius to embrace him a little longer my heart ached for that poor boy who never got to feel real hugs and affection. He thinks he should be ashamed for wanting to feel it and he shouldnt! I blame for petunia for that. I meant to say that in Croup how she touched his forehead to check for a fever and he flinched like he’d been expecting her to hit him. Poor poor little Harry. I love how you play on the connection here between Harry and Sirius and even parallel it to the Potters and Weasleys. Harry being surprised that he would be in Sirius’ will at all. Harry just being surprised that people care about him. Makes me want to just give him a hug! What abeautiful story! Thank you.

Hide and Seek: This was so fun! I love the thought of them all playing hide and seek in Grimmauld Place and everyone joining in! Remus and Tonks making out in the cupboard was the best! It was definitely my favourite part and Sirius just teasing them! Hermione thinking something happened between Harry and Ginny. I loved how Harry opened up a little to Ginny. You could see he was actually really comfortable with her in a way he’s not with people. Absently massaging her wrist, touching her. He was caught up in her without realizing he was caught up in her. Adorable! The second addition was wonderful! I love how Ginny just took control, loosening his tie, taking off his jumper… they are the superior couple! While I am a tad disappointed to not see them making out at the end, I loved this story. Thank you.

Seventeen: Wow! This was a story I didn’t know I needed. Harry and Ron lovingly admitting they’re brothers warms my soul. I love that touch of giving them matching watches! Was that canon? If not it should be. Mrs weasley feeling guilty over Sirius is so like her. She loves and cares for Harry as if he’s her own son and it’s wonderful to see. The last bit with Ginny was perfect! They definitely had to do more than the uninterrupted kiss and I love how Harry just basked in her. The end made me so sad! His heart breaking over missing her birthday, lost opportunities. Very beautifully done! These one-shots are amazing and I look forward to reading more of them. Thank you.

The Demise of Walburga Black: This was absolutely amazing! The image you crafted of them laughing like lunatics as they destroyed her portrait was awesome! What I like most so far about your writing is how you gently weave in Harry’s relationship with the Weasleys. I love the idea of George moving in with him and Ron, that Harry would offer his home to him like that. I love that Harry goes to Mr Weasley for renovation advice. I think its so hot that Harry would renovate the Muggle way (so sexy to see men in a tool belt and I’m going to assume he’s shirtless and sweaty). I love that it was Angelina’s idea and how you casually had Ron toss in that George and Angelina were already sleeping together. George not really being drunk, is that because he drank a lot to cope with Fred’s death? I think it is. Harry’s reaction to being caught by Mrs Weasley, how his guilt eases into pleasure that Mrs Weasley would call both himself and Ron George’s “younger brothers” and his glee in being lectured by her in a motherly fashion. And dont even get me started on the scene with Ginny! The way he gushed on his drunken ramblings about making a home with her and wanting to raise a family and her not wanting to get her hopes up because he’s so drunk! I laughed out loud when Harry said that drunk Harry wants to do dirtier things with her or something like that. Just wonderful all around! Where’s Teddy in this story? I know he lives with Andromeda in canon but I thought I read that you have Harry raising him. Ah well, maybe the next tale will answer that question! Thank you.

That’s all I’ve had time to read so far, but I just wanted to say thank you for writing such a rich and vast universe! I can definitely see why Breanie recommends you so much! I have a few questions if you don’t mind.

1) What made you decide to write a story about Harry’s early childhood from the point of view of Petunia instead of Harry?

2) Do you think Petunia and Vernon physically abused Harry when he was little? It’s fairly obvious he had psychological abuse, but do you think there was more?

3) Do you think Ron and Hermione knew Harry had never played childish games like hide and seek as a child? Do you think the others knew and that’s why they all agreed to join in?

4) When do you think Harry actually started to notice Ginny? Was it in his fifth year and he just didn’t realize or do you think it was later? There is the scene where she puts him in his place over the possession bit and of course when they get kicked out of the library together. What are your thoughts?

5) Was it canon that Ron and Harry have the watches of Mrs Weasley’s brothers?

6) Do you believe George could handle his alcohol better because of his age or were you insinuating he had become accustomed to the drink after losing Fred?

7) Where is Teddy when Harry lives at Grimmauld Place? From the summaries of your stories I got the impression Harry raised him. But I haven’t read any further so I may be wrong.

Sorry for so many questions, but I am curious. I look forward to reading more. Thank you for your time. You’re amazing and I love your work! Thank you.

I have been following your review journey and getting more and more excited the further you get into the universe!! I am going to try my damndest to answer all these asks you’ve sent today but I have an incredibly busy weekend, so it may take me a little bit to answer them all especially if you’re asking specific questions since I won’t have access to my computer a lot. So, I will answer all your asks, but give me the weekend because I want to give you the best and most detailed answers I can!

1.) Honestly, Croup and Brontide (I promise, no spoilers) are the reason I started this as a series. I mentioned Harry had croup a lot as a child in Brontide and then wanted to write a companion piece. I thought, what better way to demonstrate Harry’s childhood then telling a story through Petunia’s POv because she’s absolutely horrible. Plus, I didn’t think I could get into the mindset of any other POV for that story.

2.) I definitely think there was physical abuse as well. It’s indicated in the books (Harry knowing to dodge away from a frying pan or something). So, I do feel they did physically abuse him as well. He has a few scars to show from it.

3.) No, I don’t think they knew. Maybe some suspected it but not know. I think everyone was just sick of cleaning Grimmauld Place and wanted to do something fun. It didn’t matter it was a child’s game. They just wanted something to do.

4.) I think he started to like Ginny as a friend in fifth year. I think he started to notice her as someone more than just Ron’s little sister. I don’t even think he noticed how he felt comfortable around her in fifth year either. I like to think all the dots started to connect earlier than 6th year but Harry just didn’t know what it all meant. Then 6th year come and he’s like crap… I really her! But it was building, unknowingly, to Harry before then. Ginny had been slowly forming into her own person in Harry’s mind and he felt comfortable and liked what he saw. He just didn’t connect it romantically at that time.

5.) No, the watches isn’t canon. I wish it was though. Honestly, when I wrote it, I totally forgot they mentioned Ron getting a brand new watch in canon until months after I wrote the story.

6.) George was a bit of an alcoholic after the war. It’s mentioned more in-depth in Brontide. But he definitely held his alcohol better because he has been spiraling into alcohol abuse for months by that point.

7.) So, again it’s mentioned in Brontide, but Teddy lived with Andromeda for the first year of his life before Harry gained custody of him. Andromeda didn’t feel comfortable with Harry raising Teddy at first. Once she got to know him and see how much Harry cared for Teddy, she handed over custody to Harry so that Teddy could live a more normal life and have parents and siblings.

[mandoalorian]

Seduction with Maxwell Lord (SMUT)

DAY FOUR: Seduction with Maxwell Lord [Requested by @luvzoria]

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added!)

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal

December Writing Challenge: @mandos-blaster @silent-and-resigned @valentinasubmarina

December Writing Challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Warnings: Dom!Max/Sub!Reader, exhibitionism, major degradation, unprotected p in v, very rough, f!ngering.

Word count: 2.5k

Rating: 18

People warned you. They said, if Maxwell Lord IV wanted something, Maxwell Lord got it. It didn't matter what it was. He had the charm, he had the power, the fame, the wealth and the fortune. He had everything. And what he needed tonight at this charity gala, was you and your investment in his company.

You were levelheaded though. You were strong, and as you fastened your diamond earrings, you promised yourself with certainty that you would not let Maxwell Lord use you like he used everyone else in the business sector. You weren't going to be one of his playthings. His toys. If he wanted your investment, he was going to have to earn it.

You had climbed the business ladder from the bottom to the top and you had done it all by yourself. You were well respected in the industry, liked and loved by many, something Maxwell Lord couldn't exactly relate to. He had everything handed to him on a silver plate. His father was a CEO, and his grandfather, and his great grandfather… and no doubt, if the universe was cursed with the prospect of future Maxwell Lord V, he would lead in his father's footsteps. The Lord's had a legacy to uphold.

"I've seen you watching me all night," Maxwell leaned in and whispered in your ear, a shiver racing down your spine as his large hand rested on the small of your back. "Caught you red handed." he muttered, licking his lower lip as he drank in your appearance.

"Is that so?" you responded, trying to shimmy up any remaining confidence you might have.

"Mm," Maxwell folded his arms over his chest. "Let's talk business. I assume you'll be making a donation to Black Gold Cooperative tonight?"

"I considered it but… see, the oil industry isn't something I can really support. You're practically stealing land that doesn't belong to you. It's immoral. Your whole company feeds off lies, and the suffering of others."

"You don't know shit about my company," Maxwell snarled and you raised an eyebrow, liking the reaction you were swindling out of him. "You come to my charity gala and choose not to make a donation? How impolite."

"Impolite is stealing the land belonging to innocents," You bit back.

"I change lives." Maxwell hissed angrily and you rolled your eyes.

"Okay, sure, Mr Lord. You change lives." you imitated him, and you tried to hold back stifled laughter as a scowl crossed his face. Even still, he looked devishly handsome.

"You know I'm not leaving until I get what I want." Maxwell persisted and you sighed, reading the time on your wristwatch.

"Well then, looks like you're going to be here all night," you shrugged casually. "You can't seduce me, Mr Lord."

You were still, subconsciously holding your breath as his hand dipped further down your body, landing on the curve of your ass and giving it a comforting squeeze. "I must admit, you do look exquisite in that dress. Fits you perfectly." You swallowed the lump in your throat and composed yourself. "What is it baby, you shy?" Maxwell pouted, turning to face you. His dark brown eyes held a mischievous glint and they were completely lust-blown… you could already feel the arousal gather between your legs.

"N-no, I'm not shy." you replied, your voice barely above a timid whisper as you fluttered your eyelashes. Maxwell smiled, giving you a small spank causing you to let out a surprised yelp.

"Hm," Maxwell nodded, raising an eyebrow and glancing down the empty corridor behind you. "I'd like to put that to the test." 

You hated him. You hated the slimy, smarmy, snakey, sexy businessman. You were strong, you were a ruthless businesswoman yourself but you knew once Maxwell turned on his charm, you were putty in his hands. He had that effect on everyone and he knew it.

"What do you mean, Mr Lord?" you beckoned, your voice laced with honey and innocence. If you were going to play along with his game, you weren't going to make it easy for him. Your tone only spurred Maxwell on as he felt his hardening cock beginning to throb in his tailored dress pants.

You looked around the ballroom— it was bustling. There must have been hundreds of people surrounding you both, and yet, all you could focus on was Maxwell Lord in his dumb expensive suit and his perfect hair.

"Follow me." he demanded, leading you out of the ballroom and along the empty corridor. As you walked further down, the music began to quieten down and the chattering became distanced and muffled. When he had decided you were far enough away, he pushed you into the wall. "Turn around, hands pressed against the wall and bend over. Show me your pretty ass." Maxwell growled. You nodded obediently, following his instruction. You heard Maxwell's footsteps as he paced around, examining your body and the way you were spread out for him. "Such a good girl." he praised, peeling your dress up your ass revealing your lace panties. "Open your legs for me," he said, leaning into you. "Now." he reprimanded sternly after your brief moment of hesitation.

You obliged, slowly opening your shaky legs. You bunched your hand into a fist as he glided his index finger over your dripping cunt, feeling your dampness through the thin material that was between your skin and his. "Mm, Max," you mewled, closing your eyes as he rubbed over your clit. "Someone could see."

"That would be embarrassing for you, wouldn't it?" he chuckled and you felt your cheeks heat up. "Or would you like it? Would you like someone to walk in on you like this, spread against the wall with your ass in the air? Oh baby, you're already so wet."

Wasting no time, he pulled down your panties and smacked your bare ass— the noise echoing through the empty hallway. You whimpered as the coolness of his rings hit your warm skin and you knew his actions would do no less than leave a mark on you. But that's exactly what he wanted. He reattached his fingers as he rubbed in between your glistening folds and you shuddered under his touch. He was good. 

"You want my cock?" he purred in your ear. "Of course you do, you little brat. But first I need to prep you."

Maxwell teased the tip of his index finger at your entrance before pushing it straight in. After only two or three thrusts, he inserted his middle finger, stretching you out completely.

"Such a needy little thing," Maxwell groaned in your neck as you quivered beneath him. He thrusted his fingers deeper into you, knuckle deep, so the ridges of his rings grazed your walls, and the tips of his digits pushing against your sweet spot. You were a mess, your knees weak. You were thankful for his strong steady arm wrapped around your stomach, holding you up. As he pumped his hand inside of you, the obscene wet noises filled the hallway and you screamed, feeling your cunt clench around his hand.

"I'm gonna cum," you gasped and he chuckled, increasing his speed. You yelled his name and his free hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your noises.

"Shut up," he spat. "Do you want people to hear? You dirty fucking girl." Maxwell grunted. He pushed in a third finger and you bit down on his hand as the intensity flushed over you. "Fuck...look at you," he cooed as you squeezed your eyes shut. "You're so greedy, aren't you? All this just from my fingers." he laughed, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck and nibbling the skin. "You want to cum sweetheart?" he asked gently, his thumb raising to swirl at your clit as he thrusted his thick fingers into you.

"Y-yes please," you nodded, tears pricking your eyes, but your voice was muffled, his hand still covering your mouth.

"Can't hear you," he sung teasingly and you could practically feel his smirk just from his tone of voice. "Do you think you deserve to cum?"

"I- I do," you whimpered, the tears now streaming down your face. "Please Mr Lord, pl-please."

He couldn't even reply, you were already coming undone beneath him, drenching his hands in your juices. He gasped, removing his hand and grabbing your waist, twisting you around so your back was against the wall and you were now facing him. "Did you just fucking cum on my hand?" he growled. "Did I tell you you could cum?" 

"N-no, I mean, yes, I mean, I-" you were a shivering mess as he brought his hand to your lips.

"Clean yourself up you slut," he said, pushing his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to taste your own arousal as you licked your juices from him. He watched you intently as you wrapped your lips around his fingers, looking up at him through your eyelashes and still looking as innocent as ever. Once he was satisfied, he pulled his fingers from your lips and slapped your face. "See what happens when you misbehave?" Just then, you heard voices. Footsteps. Maxwell grabbed your panties and shoved them in his pocket and pulled your dress down. "Compose yourself." he hissed.

"Ah, Mr Lord, we were looking for you," Mr Lodge, one of the gala's investors beamed. "Didn't expect to see you here with Miss Y/L/N, that's for sure." You offered Mr Lodge a polite smile, conscious that your lipstick was probably smeared and your eyeshadow tear stained.

"Is everything alright, Mr Lodge?" Maxwell asked, tilting his head with concern and looking down the corridor back into the party.

"I could ask her the same thing," Mr Lodge turned back at you and frowned. "Have you been crying?"

"She's fine," Maxwell snapped. "Home sick. I took her away from the crowds so she could calm down." Maxwell lied. You nodded slowly, agreeing with his story.

"Oh, well Maxwell, you are such a gentleman. No wonder the ladies throw themselves at you," Mr Lodge grinned, his pearly white teeth sparkling. "Has Mr Lord been taking care of you?"

"Oh yes," you replied, nodding your head eagerly.

"I hope you consider investing into his company then, he truly is such a generous man." Mr Lodge concluded before turning back to Maxwell. "I am excited to hear your speech. Do hurry back."

Maxwell nodded with a charming smile as Mr Lodge padded down the corridor. When he was out of sight, Maxwell grabbed your hand and pulled you into the elevator. "Wh- where are we going?" you asked him. As the doors closed, he pressed his body onto yours, sliding his tongue over your lower lip, begging for entry. His kiss was long, passionate and you could taste the liqueur on his lips. You let your hands get tangled into his hair as grinded over the bulge in his pants.

"My office." he replied, pulling away for breath when the elevator pinged and the door slid open. "We'll finish in my office." Within minutes you were naked, standing in the middle of his outlandishly big office. Maxwell pulled off his how tie and rolled up his sleeves, exposing his tan forearms and gold Cartier watch. "Still wet for me?" He whispered, pulling out his hard cock and rubbing it over your folds. "Fuck you're dripping." he gasped. He had you bent over his desk, your elbows pressing into the oakwood as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"Ngh-, stop teasing," you whimpered. He wrapped his arms around your chest, squeezing your breasts like they were stress balls and bit down on your shoulder.

"I think you'll find I call the shots," Maxwell grunted. You expected more teasing from him, but just then, in one swift motion, he pushed his long thick length inside of you and nestled himself into your cunt. You screamed wantonly, throwing your head back as he held himself inside of you. "Shit," he cursed, whispering your name under his breath. "So tight."

"M-move," you begged as he steadied himself. He pulled you into his chest and began to massage your clit as your walls clenched around him.

"Beg for it." he whispered harshly.

"M-Mr Lord," you groaned, your eyes rolling back as his girth filled you.

"Call me Max," he commanded, his hands leaving your pussy and steadying on your hips.

"Max please," you cried.

"Please what? What do you want, baby?" 

"I want you to fuck me hard, I want to feel you fill me up with your cum," you wailed and he smiled ruthlessly.

"If I do that, will you sign the check to Black Gold Cooperative? Will you invest in us?" he snarled.

"Y-yes I will, I promise," you moaned. "Please Max. Fuck, please-"

And with that, he moved. You found yourself screaming, writhing in front of him as he pushed into you in one rough motion. You clutched onto the sides of his desk so hard you were sure your knuckles might have turned white as he relentlessly pounded into you.

Maxwell's hand found your throat as his thrusts became sloppy, his hips snapping deeper and deeper. "Oh yeah baby, you take me so well." he grunted, giving your neck a small squeeze, the gold signet ring on his thumb grazing your skin. "Your cunt feels so good. So- ah, you're so fucking pretty princess."

Your heart was racing. "Don't stop," you cried. "Max I'm close, don't stop. Please."

"I'm close, fuck," his vision became hazy and his words became jumbled as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear about how beautiful you looked wrapped around him. He grabbed your ass and increased his speed significantly. "Tell me you love me," he whispered.

"Wh-what?" you asked, tears spilling from your glazed eyes.

"Fucking tell me you love me!" Maxwell yelled.

"I- I love you!" you gasped. Maxwell whined, his short fingernails digging into your skin as he spilled his seed inside of you without warning.

The feeling of his cum splaying against your walls pushed you over the edge and your pussy clamped down on his cock, milking him entirely. He softened inside of you, eventually pulling out and tucking himself back into his tailored pants. You were left, a shaking mess, bent over on his desk as he slid into his office chair with a sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair, regaining his breath before opening his drawer and throwing you one of his gold company pens.

"Write the check." he ordered, a wicked smile gracing his lips.

What they said was true. Whatever Maxwell Lord wanted, Maxwell Lord got.

[oceanivoxjoquainx]

i also love samquin thanks to you 🥺 i gasped when i saw danny ramirez fine self with facial hair. it was just *chef's kiss*, you know? 🤤 elevated the whole look. i want to know your headcanons about sam seeing joaquin with facial hair for the first time. maybe they're meeting up after a long time. what's his reaction? does the hair tickle him when they embrace? 😄

I am soooooo so glad you asked about this anon! I have many an idea 🤭 Also glad you love samquín now because of me! I love when other folks fall in love with them like i have!

With that everyone get ready forrrrr

Samquín Headcanons ☀️🌈: The Beard

Sam had decided that it was best for his mental health and his and his families safety if he left the military, quit the Avengers, and left the name of The Falcon behind three years ago. He did it once before when he lost Riley, and he figured it was time to do it again. He and Joaquín argued about it the last time they spoke and it ended in Sam flying away before trashing the wings. Little did he know Joaquín was following him and salvaged them.

Sam did his best to stay far away from anything avengers or super solider or world threatening and focused on supporting and helping his family down in Lousiana. He finally had the peace he always wanted and the safety he had wanted to give to his sister and nephews.

He was able to reestablish himself in the community and continue the work his father started all thos years ago. He went back to his job as a social worker and made sure everyone in his neighborhood was fed every week, slowly expanding his outreach every month until everyone knew that if you were hungry you could just go to the Wilson house and you were taken care of. It was the life he was used to and at that moment what he wanted.

Until some old enemies showed up right on his door step.

He fought until the end but there was only so much a man three years out of practice could do. He could only buy his family enough time to get far away and he determinedly got up every time he was knocked down.

He was down on the ground, about to succumb to his injuries, vision blurry through sweat, blood, and tears, until he saw a figure fly down and begin incapacitating the hostiles one by one. The person had a familiar build with a long mullet but was wearing a green and yellow suit, outfitted with a pair of what looked like bronze wings.....

Sam was in disbelief as he studied the persons fighting patterns and the wings attached to his back. The wingspan, the missiles, and even the stabilizers were all known to Sam. Those were HIS wings!

Soon enough all the fighting stopped and the only person left was the person who had Sam's wings. Sam was barely conscious as the person ran over to him and checked out his body, pressing down and studying for wounds and bruises, before picking him up bridal style and tucking his head into his own neck. The man's beard tickling his jawline was the last thing he remembered before slipping away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam woke up to sounds of rhythmic beeping over his head. His eyes opened very slowly to focus on the white, sterile ceiling above him. His body ached in a soreness he hadn't felt in years but he still felt high enough to not feel it too much.

He looked to his left and saw a heart monitor and a IV drip hanging near his head and into his arm, confirming that he was indeed inside a hospital. Rolling his head over to his right he saw a chair next to the bed with but unexpectedly it wasn't empty.

The man reclining with his eyes closed had a massive mullet paired with the most sexiest anchor beard Sam had ever seen. His first reaction was to immediately reach out and touch it.

His feeble attempts at moving his arms seemed to stir the other man from his rest and his eyes opened, locking onto Sam's where they immediately identified themselves to him.

"Joa...Joaquin?" Sam's voice was cracked and croaky and didn't sound like him. Sam tried to cover his mouth only to find his arm still felt like putty.

Joaquín leaned forward and took Sams hand into his own and rubbed his face against it. "Yeah, it's me. Be quiet though, you're still on the mend." Joaquíns voice was breaking itself as he rubbed his face and beard in Sam's hand. At points Sam's fingers would close around a certain section and they'd stay like that for a while before Joaquín began moving again.

"Where the hell did all this come from huh?" Sam asked. He was amazed at how different Joaquín looked with some extra hair on his face. It was a good different. A sexy different. He wasn't sure if it was the drugs or the fact that the man he left behind three years ago was now sitting on at his bedside but he was definitely feeling a 'flip me over and ravage my hole' different.

"Heh thanks, I'll definitely be keeping that in mind." Joaquín answered, his face heating up and a red blush creeping up his neck and onto his face. "It's just something that happened and I liked it so I kept it."

Sam didn't mean for him to hear the last part but it didn't matter in the long run. It was like falling back into old habits.

Sam attempted to sit up in order to properly look at Joaquín before coughing and giving up. The room began spinning and he felt his eyes closing again. With a groan he closed them. He felt Joaquín return his hand to his waist and then rest his own head in his lap, his beard tickling his stomach as he fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks had passed since Sam was allowed to be taken home and Joaquín stayed with him the entire time taking care of him and everything he needed.

Sam couldn't remember the last time someone had taken care of him. He was always taking care of other people. Joaquín would get water, cook meals, help him to the tub, even wash his back. It was... nice.

He still had his family in hiding while he stayed at the house to make sure no one else came for him but he made sure Joaquín let Sarah know he was alive and okay when he able to fully sit up in the hospital.

Sam usually kept the same routine each day and as it was sunset he hobbled his way onto the back patio and sat down in the porch swing. The rocking movements always soothed his troubled mind as a child and they did so again now. He and Joaquín still didn't really discuss anything about their last and first day in three years together and he wasn't sure how to bring it up.

He knew he was wrong for leaving as he did with no contact for three years, he just didn't know if he should bring it up since everything seemed okay for now. There was always a hint of tension in the air when the house was dark and quiet and Joaquín had put Sam in his bed, lingering in the door frame as if to say something before just saying Goodnight and leaving. But other than that everything seemed... okay.

As if summoned by Sam himself, the back door opened and Joaquín stepped out onto the back patio and scanned the area before noticing Sam and coming to sit next to him. He had brought a blanket out with him and threw it over the two of them before resting his head on Sam's chest. The hair from his beard piercing Sam's shirt and tickling his chest. It was a routine the two fell into some days ago, none of them moving to break it any time soon.

"Knew I'd find you out here. The sunsets down here are always so beautiful."

"Yeah that's why pops built the house facing east. Best view in all of America he'd say."

The two sat together in silence watching the sun fall ever so slowly past the horizon. Tension was slowly building up again and Sam had no clue what it was from.

He had to say something.

Anything really.

He couldn't go on without saying something.

So he did.

"Jo... Joaquín... I was an ass back then. I shouldn't had left you behind to fend for yourself and I should've called, texted, sent a dam email, something. But I was worried about myself, my sister, my nephew's, I didn't think for a second that I was leaving my other family member behind and alone. And for that I'm so sorry."

"It's... well no it's not okay. It hurt me that you didn't consider me family. We were all but married back then. You were my life. I thought I was at least an important part of yours.... but you left and then trashed your wings and dissapeared. Figured I'd never see you again." Joaquín sighed. He sat up and brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly.

Sam didn't know what to do. He had caused this. He did what was best for him and his family but completely left Joaquín behind and in the cold. He did miss him. He just thought he'd be safer without him around but turns out Joaquín was the one saving his ass anyways.

"The wings?" Sam asked.

"Oh i found em right where you left em. Picked em up, took em home, studied em, reverse engineered my own pair. Yours are still sitting in my workshop. I kept it just in case you... ya know... ever came back..." At this point his head was turned away from Sam.

Sam couldn't see the tears but he could hear Joaquín sniffling and wiping his face.

"Hey...." Sam whispered as he wrapped his arm around Joaquín's back, "From what I saw.... you were awesome, perfect even. I shouldn't have left you. You're my family too..." He began poking Joaquín's side.

"Come onnnn Jojo. Look at me. Please?"

Joaquín replied with a grunt and shuffled his head further into his arms.

"Jojooooo," Sam reached under his face and tilted his head up to face him. His eyes where shining with tears and his face was streaked with tear lines. His lips were visibly trembling and his beard had grown noticeably longer. Sam held his chin in his hands and ran them over his beard repetitively in a soothing motion that lead to Joaquín leaning back into Sam.

"I promise I'll never leave you behind again. The past three years were great but these three weeks with you were the best of my life. I hate that it took getting my ass handed to me for me to realize that but my life with you in it is infinitely better." Sam lamented.

Joaquín finally spoke again, "I've loved spending this time with you too, but it still hurt. It's gonna take time for me but I want you in life too." He rested his forehead against Sams and sighed, "I can't stay here with you for much longer. I have unfinished business to take care of but after that's done I'll come back."

"I'm coming with you." Sam replied determinedly, "Wherever you go I'm going too."

"No... no. You still need to heal and you're still needed here. I'll be okay! I took in the mantle of The Falcon and I'm doing what I have to. Can we just enjoy what we have for now until it's time?"

Sam scanned his face and saw he was serious and decided to let it go. He had no place to make demands of Joaquín and he wanted to give him as much length as he needed.

"Yeah... yeah okay..."

"Cool." Joaquín perked up and kissed Sam in his forehead, his beard ticking his face before resting his head back on Sam's face, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist, and continuing to watch the sunset.

Sam broke the silence again, "I just have to ask though..."

"Hm?"

"Where did this beard come from?" Sam asked stifling a laugh.

"Aw shut up!" Joaquín pushed at Sam's stomach and laughed which in turn caused Sam to laugh. "It just grew out while I was going through it and I liked it so I've been working with it okay!"

Sam chuckled at Joaquín's exasperation and slight embarrassment before saying, "I love it. It looks good on you. In fact its kind of sexy."

Sam felt Joaquín's body stiffen on top of him amd heard his breath hitch. There was obviously some attraction to each other and an innate closeness the two had, but they never discussed what exactly they were to each other. Not everything needed a label of course but they just never talked about it. They always glided into these situations.

"Heh. Thanks."

Sam looked down at Joaquín's head and stroked his hair and carried his hands over the other man's shoulder and down his side repetitively. He heard Joaquín sigh before hearing the rhythmic sounds of his sleep. He didn't know what was running through the other man's mind but he knew that this moment was perfect and if he could, he'd stay like this forever.

He thought his life for the past 3 years was what he wanted but turns out this was exactly what he was missing.

[anakinthetrashking]

BnHA One-Shot Fic Recs (pt1)

Making some fic-rec posts has been on my to-do list for a while and I’m finally doing it, yay! Currently I have 6 word doc pages full of just BnHA recs. So I’m splitting them up by length and completion, so first up is (part one of) one-shots! Let’s go!!!

Lets start with some classic Izuku and DadMight!

Pictures, Posters and Tender Beauty by ProPinkist (tumblr: @dazais-guardian-angel ) Rating: G    Category: Gen   ~4,400 words Summary: Izuku has virtually every All Might-themed item out there, and prides himself on all of it, as Toshinori is well aware. However, somehow, the boy still decided that there was something vital missing. This is fluffy and very cute. No one truly appreciates All Might as much as Izuku does, but 1A comes close. All Might deserves all the love, and this fic truly provides!!!

Dear Mr. All Might by QuizzicalCrow (tumblr: @quizzicalcrow​ ) Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~5,000 words Summary: As the #1 hero for decades, All Might has collected a lot of fan mail over the years. Toshinori tracks down a series of letters that only now, years later, does he appreciate for their significance.  I always love the thought of All Might looking through his fan mail, even if he can’t get to all of it. This was a wonderful glimpse into that AND it was made to be so, so personal and sweet. Go have some heart-healing fluff.

Growing Pains by LordofLies (tumblr: @theangelofchildren ) Rating: G   Category: Gen    ~5,900 words Summary: Izuku finds himself changed by his encounter with the Hero Killer, but changes of a more physical kind are in store for him as he begins to truly accept One for All as his own. Once, he would have been thrilled to look more like All Might, but now those connections are as much a source of anxiety as they are of pride.Or, Izuku wakes up one morning and sees the world through different eyes. Izuku having anxiety and Toshi being there to help him through it and calm him down? Sign me UP. Its also a pretty cool take on how One for All is able to change things about it’s holder. Could this happen in cannon? Who knows.... Regardless, it was a great read!

I’ll Carry You Home by Renesvetta Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~2,700 words Summary: While training with All Might, it wasn’t uncommon for Izuku to be so exhausted at the end of the day that he unwittingly fell asleep without regard for where he was. It consequently became part of All Might’s routine to help his young protégé home. During that time, Izuku may have let loose more than one sleepy confession towards his mentor.  Yes, it is as adorable as it sounds. Its tagged with “self indulgent Dad Might fluff” which is both accurate and appreciated. In other words: Superb you funky little writer!

Simple Gifts by QuizzicalCrow Rating: G    Category: Gen   ~6,700 words Summary: One year ago, Izuku received the greatest gift he could ever imagine. Now he’s determined to return the favor for the one responsible for it all with a gift of his own.  First off, I love the idea of Izuku and Toshi quietly celebrating the anniversary of passing on OfA from All Might to Izuku. Even just taking the day to hang out with each other. It’s a really precious idea. But there’s not just fluff! Izuku finds himself in a fight, again. (cool villain quirk, too!) I love all of the small details that are in this fic (and in Crow’s other works, too!) anyway its exciting AND very heartwarming, so go read it!!!

Affectionate by Sevi007 (tumblr: @sevi007 ) Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~2,600 words Summary: Toshinori starts to show affection very easily around his students. The  reactions he gets for that are not quite the ones he had anticipated - well, not all of them, at least.  Toshi is LOVED, APPRECIATED, and 1A feels like HOME. how many times can i say “cute” and “heartwarming” on this post?? bc these are some amazing writers, whom I adore, and their writing makes my heart WARM. AND. FUZZY. i mean, even just the first few paragraphs of this one just, really sets the scene of what i like to believe the 1A dorm is (on a good day, lol). its a really nice read, so go treat yo’ self by reading it.

paint me in trust by dinomight Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~6,400 words Summary: The first mark Izuku gets is a slight brush of green across his temple. It’s the soft touch of a mother holding her son for the first time. Inko has one to match, the same shade of green staining the tips of her fingers. Hers is more noticeable; Izuku’s tends to blend into his hairline. He loves it anyways. He has to. It’s the only soulmate mark he has. (Or: how Izuku goes from just green to a rainbow, UA-style.)  Ok, so this fic sort of plays off the idea of soulmates, and does not fit in with soulmates in the usual form of the trope. First off its completely platonic. Its categorized as Gen and sticks to that. Also it doesn’t seem to be as obligatory and permanent as you would think it would be. It seems to be more of the universe telling you who has the possibility of being important in your life. I really really loved this, it was so adorable and gives you that sweet, sweet Izuku angst, before healing your heart with the power of friendship and found family!!!

The Die Has Been Cast by ChiwiTheKiwi (tumblr: @chiwithekiwi​ ) Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~5,400 words Summary: “There’s something about that kid you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?”When no answer meets him, Shouta tries again.“You know something about Midoriya’s quirk that you haven’t shared with me. Is that right?”(Or: A canon "What If" surrounding the latest manga events and focusing on Aizawa finally making a connection.) First off, this fic has spoilers for the manga, so dont read unless you’re past chp212! I loooooooove OfA reveal fics, especially when it’s Aizawa that finds out. He deserves to know!!! its kind of important!!!! This fic chooses a great moment to work off of, and does a great job with Aizawa’s character. I really enjoyed it and couldn’t keep myself from going back and reading it just now LOL

These last two are actually two-shots, but it makes it an even 10! also Izuku and dadmight, so we can continue the theme here...

Some Unspoken Thing by LittleKy Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~7,900 words (2chps) Green, Toshinori has always thought, is the color of life anew.(Or: It's time for Yagi Toshinori to finally accept that he has a son, now, in all but blood. It's time for Midoriya Hisashi to accept that as well.) YES ALL MIGHT! ADMIT THAT IZUKU IS YOUR SON! great portrayal of the characters and really hits the nail on the head for DadMight. and Izuku in this story is just the smallest green floof that you wish to give a hug. NEVER MIND ALL MIGHT, YOU TOOK TOO LONG SO IZUKU IS MY SON NOW AND IM NOT GIVING HIM BACK ( no but seriously i want to hug this fic its so cute TTuTT )

LAST BUT NOT LEAST! I See You by BirdAntlers (tumblr: @aarymk )

Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~15,400 words (2chps) Midoriya Izuku is a quirkless child, blind from birth. Yagi Toshinori is the most powerful man in the world, loved by millions. They could not be more different, and yet their loneliness is the same.   (From a pair of AU posts on Tumblr that got way out of hand; I wanted to put it here because it turned into more of a fic than a "what-if." Basically a vessel for me to vomit as much Dadmight as I can.) Hey, you! Yeah! You! Do you want to cry? Do you want to start sobbing in a public space?? Do you just want to be destroyed with words and be left there kneeling at the feet of a writer who has torn out your heart and stomped on it before they gently wipe the tears from your face? Yeah?? y oU Wan NA D IE??? READ THIS AND GET REKT.  you’ll thank me later

(under the cut is just me rambling, i kept all the important stuff up here, ur welcome)

Now that the actual recs are over I can rant here- look i really tried to slim my recs down, but i have almost 300 bnha fics bookmarked,some of them are “to read” or theyre in progress, etc but i managed to get this list sorta slimmed down? a little?(to only 58!!!) but as i was gathering this post together it felt like i dont have very many Dadmight recs on that list??? but i havent rechecked all the other fics i was just going through the oneshots. i... kinda read a lot more fics with AIzawa in it instead. it be that way. DadMight content is SO GOOD. but my fav is aizawa im sorryyyyy anyway i have another SEVENteeN oneshots to put in rec posts and that does NOT include the mulitchapter and friikin series and stuff... and like i said this is aaaaaaallllllllllllllll BnHA. batfam fic posts will come after, and then star wars, and then maybe star trek? we’ll see. i have a very specific taste in ST fics and that is Tarsus IV whump. which. i have not read in a while. when they say “that trope came from ST” for sooooooo many tropes, you WISH other fandoms had tarsus as a trope, holy crap it is TOP TIER angst fodder. if you love to write/read whump, angst, and h/c i would HIGHLY recommend that you take a bit of time and explore the content and stories there. heck maybe i will make a ficrec post for just tarsus angst. ok.

my INTENTION is to edit these posts later with little links to the other fic rec lists so that itll be easier to find. but., its me, so itll either happen in painful detail or not at all

asdjkdgh its 2:30am and i need to sleep and not be rambling incoherently again I WILL SAVE THIS AS A DRAFT. 

[the-moon-prince]

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter V

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

This chapter contains a mention of sexual abuse. I understand how hurtful this topic may be to a lot of people (me included). Likewise, I'll mark it at the start and the end, so you don't have to read it if you prefer. I made sure for people to be able to read the chapter without reading forcefully that part. I added this as a form of venting. I feel like it's an avoided topic, and it's my form to show support to other trauma survivors. This was made with the only intention to comfort. If something is bad written or harmful, please tell me. I also ask for your understanding if you plan on commenting, thank you very much!

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story.  (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter VI coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 888

TW: Mentions of sexual abuse / Mentions of abuse ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) appeared more comfortable around Kurapika. Occasionally letting their ears escape while staying in the privacy of their houses.

But there was still something mysterious about (Y/n). Some of what they didn't say. Kurapika was filled with doubts and fears because of that. He pondered scenarios, each one worse than the other. Are they lying to me? Maybe they're in some kind of danger or distress. Creating a vicious and unhealthy cycle in Kurapika's spirit. 

The two were patient in the relationship, neither comprehending fully how to give or receive affection. But despite the time they had been together, (Y/n) seemed resistant to accept fondness. Particularly physical. They had never tried to hold hands. When Kurapika attempted it, they recoiled in alarm more than once. In the few hugs they had given each other, (Y/n) shivered. Loud noises made them shake and jump, and they hand a list of tics as sudden shaking chills or protectively shrugging shoulders. Kurapika could understand that, he had tics as well. But his partner seemed triggered by his touch. They continued to be protective of their eyes. It was normal they didn't meet his eyes often, however, they tried to hide her eyes whenever they looked more cat-like.

~

Suspicions of his beloved being at risk grew bigger. He didn't want to, he couldn't permit himself to lose someone else. What kind of cruel mockery of life would be that, when finally there was someone like him-Someone who understood and supported him-was erased from this plane. The idea that these funny tail and ears weren't going to survive grieved Kurapika. The plausibility of not seeing those (curly/wavy/messy/straight) (hair/color) strands nevermore haunted him. Undoubtedly, it didn't end there. Fury consumed him when he conceived the idea of someone injuring more further a being so humane, kind hearted, and compassionate as (Y/n). Hadn't both of them grieved enough? But what they were suffering, adding would be disastrous.

Yet, (Y/n) didn't utter a single word regarding the matter.

~

Kurapika entered a state of fright. At that limit, he needed at the very least to know what was going on. He showed up that night at (Y/n)'s residence, knowing that they had no guard at the hospital and that they would be there. He had a spare key and wasn't abnormal to simply arrive at the other's place. Either of them had the habit of picking phone calls or answering messages.

Except for the scene he arrived at was abnormal.

He saw (Y/n) from behind sitting on the floor, a thing they never did, and if anything was remarkable about them, it was how strict they were with their customs. They had their elbows leaning on the coffee table, looking down at something. They did not react upon his arrival. (Y/n) never missed a noise, even less the one of a door opening. Yet, they remain immobile as if the lives of the universe depended on them staying frozen in place. Kurapika approached them. To see that there was a call in progress on their phone resting upon the table. (Y/n) did not dare to see the phone directly. Their hands held their head by the forehead, their gaze hidden behind their (curls/waves/strands). Just as Kurapika opened his mouth to speak, a female voice came from the phone's speaker-"So you won't answer me?"-silence again-" My baby... I know you think I broke you..."-the voice was sweet and honeyed, full of compassion"-Who could that woman possibly be? Why did she address (Y/n) like that, what did she mean by "break". Kurapika craved to question (Y/N) what, for love for his clan, was happening. He was relucted from doing so, he could perhaps extract information from the person on the other end of the line, taking advantage of the fact that she believed that (Y/n) was alone.-"But that's not true! I didn't do anything, my love. You were born broken, your demoniac eyes are the proo-" (Y/n) abruptly cut the call before the sentence finished. They didn't turn to see Kurapika, despite knowing he was beside them. 

Kurapika had his breakpoint. "What's happening (Y/n)?! Who was that?! You can't keep things as such from me?! Do you understand that?!"-he started to scold, raising his voice. His eyes would look scarlet if it weren't for the contacts he was wearing at the moment. Someone else knew about (Y/n) identity. Who can say such atrocities? On top, with such a sound and sweet voice, it was twisted. She was talking about their eyes. Did she want them? Was she behind (Y/n)'s eyes? All these questions flooded incessantly in Kurapika's mind. (Y/n) hid upthrusting their shoulders and covering their face with their hands, their whole figure was shaking. They drew their ears back and adhered the tail to their body, probably changed on instinctual reaction.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"-(Y/n) started to lament, voice quivering. Their breaths were heavy as if it were inhumanly tough to keep breathing. Whoever the other person was, were bad enough to provoke a position of panic on (Y/n).   Kurapika knew that and seeing that getting angry only seemed to affect the feeble trembling figure in front of him, he decided to calm down. He was greatly concerned that someone he esteemed as highly as (Y/n) was in that position. It was not wise to let his humor aggravate things. 

He lowered himself to their level and sat down next to them. He raised his hand to stroke their hair. As soon as the tips of his fingers touched the (curls/waves/bangs/strands) he heard a heavy "Don't!" and backed up his hand.-"It's alright. I'm not touching you. Still, I require you to explain to me what happens. Who was that woman?" Besides offering physical contact, Kurapika had no distinct idea how he could comfort (Y/n). He felt frustrated and powerless.

"My mum."-they whimpered, (Y/n) was distressed although not crying. Not a single tear came out during all that night. Kurapika no longer understood.

"Weren't your parents deceased?"- He felt that they had lied to him, and it sure bothered him that he kept that from him. But this was not the time to discuss that part.

"No, my family is dead..."-(Y/n) began to breathe more calmly. They readjusted, moving their hands away from their faces to hold their arms. "They did not raise me. My grandparents did. When my grandad got ill and died I left to study. They always lived far away." -(Y/n) didn't look at Kurapika at any time. They kept their gaze at a standstill. Nevertheless, he could notice that their pupils were very dilated, reminding him of the stare of a scared soaked cat.

"What did she mean by break you?"-he continued trying to maintain a moderate voice. He was somehow scared to hear the answer. It would hurt to know that someone hurt (Y/n).

"I wasn't the legal age. Someone had to take my guard when my grandfather died."-Their face stayed still in a sober expression.

"Did they hurt you?"- He felt progressively more scared and worse.

"It's not important. I don't believe it's something you desire to know." -Even with everything happening, (Y/n) refused to speak. How could they be so obstinate?

"(Y/n), this cannot continue. I require to know. You are not delusional, you know you have to tell me."-Kurapika got a heavy sigh.

"They never loved me, you know? I was never certain why. I tried my best. Maybe they were expecting a human... Maybe they blamed me for their separation...Perhaps they were disappointed to learn that I have a disability."- Kurapika didn't know that (Y/n) could have a difficulty, they never mentioned any medical condition. He would ask about that a little further. They were finally discussing if he interrupted now, possibly the opportunity will not present again.-"I spent most of my time in the university's boarding. Only I wasn't allowed to stay on vacation, so I would go home. Sometimes they put a muzzle on me so I wouldn't bite - although I never bit anyone. They put an electric collar on me once. I guess they were scared of me. "It's for your good because we love you, and you have to behave. Good kitties don't scratch and don't bite." my mother told me. They believed it to be true. They did many things to me under that pretext..."-They stopped there. Still having something to say, but not wanting to.

(WARNING: MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE AHEAD)

"Did they... something else to you?"-Kurapika asked again. At that point, he was not surprised (Y/n) never mentioned their parents and did not consider them family. His anger was replaced by compassion. Expecting the worst.

"Yes."- there was the resistance again.

"What did they do?"-(Y/n) made a little movement with their head still hesitant.

"My mother did. She told me she had to check I was okay. Because I was not like other children..."-They lowered their gaze. Kurapika felt a chill. Neither of them was foolish, they knew what was to come. (Y/n) shrugged even more and started to play with their (color) hair -"It happened more than once, I don't remember precisely how many, but more than once for sure. She ordered me to... take off my clothes and... to lay down. It was unpleasant. For a long... for a very long time, I... I denied it. I told myself that she was an adult... that she knew better. If I doubted a bit more... If I weren't so naive... I would have done things differently, you know?"

(END OF THE MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE)

Kurapika felt horrible. It felt awful seeing someone he loved so much like this, someone innocent who didn't deserve anything of what happened. For the first time, he didn't know what to say. He had no idea how to act. It was something he did not understand.-"And the rest of your family? You couldn't ask other Uniliums for help?" he probed, wanting to understand their circumstances. 

"I tried. I ran away twice. They discovered me at the first try. Two adults facing a 9-year-old child. They clearly gave me the beating of my life.

The following was 4 years after, more prepared. When I returned to our community, I found out that they got butchered not long ago."-(Y/n) lamented. It was probably what ached most of all. That they got that tiny hope and comfort taken away. -"I'm convinced if they had known, they would have helped and appealed to my favor. I concentrated on my studies in the faith to forget. It was also my opening to escape. I like my career, you know? Although my father told me during the 10 years it lasted that it was disappointing and worthless."-they added with a trembling smile. Those were the two details that provided them any comfort.

"Why didn't you tell me any of that?"- Kurapika asked once more. 

(Y/n) raised their shoulders.-"I don't know. I was scared and ashamed. I was afraid that you would hate me. Perhaps I imagined you would be disappointed in me."-They were conscious that it was not a rational fear. But it was stronger than them.

"How could I hate you? It wasn't your fault."-He comforted. Full of regret for what happened-"It was not your responsibility at any time."

"I know... Though, still, sometimes I wonder if it was. Even acknowledging that it is a lie." (Y/n) sniffled without shedding any tears.

"They won't do a single thing to you, ever again. I'm present now, and I'll make sure they don't put a finger on you. You are safe. Okay?"-The blonde man secured.

"Thank you."-They smiled again. Many would have said it was the same smile. But for Kurapika it was different. This time it was a touch more melancholic than usual, but there was a side of profuse relief. They relaxed and their ears were forward, symbolizing more relaxed humor. 

"It's impressive you succeed the Hunter exam possessing a physical disability." It was Kurapika's crafty way of questioning the subject.

"It was quite difficult. I was born with a respiratory condition, so I cannot develop many physical abilities. I am not physically powerful and I have restricted time to run. I depend greatly on my ability Nen and my wits. However, I won't allow that to stop me. Nobody tells me what I am capable of or not."-(Y/n) bragged. They could be proud. Even with that disadvantage, they had come a long way. That night Kurapika was aware of how strong his companion was. It didn't seem like it, at no time did any of the people who saw (Y/n) imagine all this side of them. After so much, they stayed strong-minded and sweet. They were truly brave. They were both survivors after all. They had both succeeded to get so far despite all the grief. And they both held pride in that. For Kurapika, the fact that (Y/n) had a more sensitive and altruistic side did not make them weak. Of course, they were qualities disapproved among several Hunters.

However, no other hunter held him during his afflicted moments. He could be vulnerable with (Y/n), and he was safe with them.

"Can you remain with me tonight, please?"

Kurapika didn't expect that request.

It was the first time one of them stayed overnight in the other's place. They had stayed really late together, but they didn't stay until the next morning. Plus, knowing how reserved (Y/n) could sometimes be, he assumed they would favor time alone following such an intense experience. Nevertheless, there was something so personal and vulnerable about that request. Kurapika felt the immense desire to stay and protect them.

"Of course."-He couldn't help but use a soft tone.

During all that conversation (Y/n), although exhibited fear, did not manifest weakness at any time. They stayed dignified without losing control.

"Can we lay down, please? I feel a bit tired."-they called after a moment of silence. Their voice resonated dull and tired.

"We can do whatever you desire."- Kurapika smiled at them, his only preoccupation at that instant was to ensure the well-being of the person he treasured, and their head started to bob. (Y/n) slowly nodded and got up. They silently asked him to follow them and padded to their chamber. 

It was the first time that Kurapika entered their bedroom as well. It was fairly more adorned. It had a relatively big bed, with light cloths and a  fluffy (color) colored bedspread. Without neglecting its childish side, it was full of stuffed animals of all kinds, colors, and sizes. Several shelves were overflowing with books. Shelving with toys and cute figures, alongside a record player and a cloth case with music records was also in the room. Next to the bed was a stool with a lamp and a framed photo. The apartments had their private bathroom, on which (Y/n) entered. Kurapika sat on the bed- or in the space left without stuffed animals- and waited. No longer than 15 minutes should have passed before (Y/n) came out with slightly wet hair, and a matching (color) pajama shorts and shirt. Kurapika didn't identify the exact scent at the time, but they smelled good, familiar. (Y/n) took the stuffed animals and arranged them as best they could on an individual loveseat.

"I apologize for this disorder."-they pointed to the bathroom door.-"There is the other toilet, so you can use it whenever you desire. I have each item, please serve yourself."-They laid on the left side of the bed and rested their head on the puffy pillow.

Kurapika merely laid down next to them, not too close. He was uncertain if it was correct to hug them or stay near. (Y/n) arranged the beddings covering the two. They smelled identical at them.

"Kurapika..."-an reluctant voice called his name.

"Yes?"-It felt strange, being in that place that, until then, seemed confidential. But it wasn't unpleasant at all.

"May I hug you?"-The request was bashful and quiet.

He thought of just opening his arms but preferred to give a vocal response as well.-"Of course you may."

(Y/n) approached him steadily. They proceed to timidly embrace him, after their arms were wrapped around him, they snuggled their face on him.-"You're warm... I feel ... comfortable ... with you. Which is bizarre. I don't feel secure with anyone since I was 6 years old."

Kurapika held them protectively. He felt profoundly touched by that strangely honest statement. He attempted to affectionately stroke their (curls/waves/locks). They allowed it.-"I love you (Y/n)."-He couldn't think about anything else he wanted them to know.

"I adore you, Kurapika." 

(Y/n) ultimately permitted themselves to be vulnerable with Kurapika too. It felt good. It was good for them to have someone so strong to have their backs and accompany them.

They could hold each other.

[divine-bangtan]

Solidarity • IV (m)

BTS x reader, reincarnation!au, supernatural!au, angels and demons!au, slow burn, smut, angst, violence.

Summary: A few weeks away from your 22nd birthday, there are a number of things one would expect to have on their mind. Partying? Oh yes. Drinking? Most definitely. Being told by seven strange men you are the reincarnation of a powerful goddess and the key to winning a demon war? Uh…come again?

Pairing: OT7 x reader, Goddess reader x demon Prince Taehyung, goddess reader x vampire Prince Namjoon, goddess reader x warlock Yoongi, goddess reader x incubus Seokjin, goddess reader x angel Hoseok, goddess reader x shapeshifter Jimin, goddess reader x werewolf Jungkook.

Warnings: angst, some violence, hallucinations, oral (f. receiving).

Word count: 6.4k

Masterlist

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You could feel multiple pairs of eyes burning into your profile across the table, thinking you were oblivious to the intense scrutiny, when in fact you didn’t have the courage to meet the eyes of any of them. Nobody seemed to be making any conversation either, only the sound of metal cutlery scraping harshly on porcelain occasionally making you flinch in discomfort. Instead, you remained unnaturally interested in the assortment of lavish foods on your plate. Where would they even get these ingredients from? Were those fish eggs? Topped with some strange purple garnish-

 “Does your arm hurt?” A voice suddenly whines into your ear. Surprised, you glimpse left to Jungkook beside you, now looking sheepish at how he had roughly pinned you to the ground earlier. 

“Oh…” you whispered back, shaking your head softly and rolling your shoulder to appease his worries. “Not really, I’m sure you were just doing your job. Maybe a little too well…”

 “Our guard dog got a little overexcited. He should really apologise about that.” Yoongi said from your other side, causing you to jerk your head around.

 “You know what it’s been like lately, hyung!” He whined back in a harsh whisper, but Yoongi was too preoccupied with his nose buried in a novel to pay attention. His side profile was quite lovely, you thought to yourself. The little details such as the way his silver earrings gently swayed every time he shifted his head slightly or the way his soft locks of black hair framed his face. When your gaze wandered up to the cat like slant of his eyelids he turned to look at you. Caught out, you startled and opened your mouth to apologise for staring.

Instead you gasped when a pea hit him square in the forehead, and he froze momentarily before he slammed his book down onto the table, causing everyone to jump a little. “Don’t be a brat,” he hissed at Jimin across the table. 

 “Okay, I will now that you’re paying attention to me again, hyung,” he said, plump lips that were once pouting stretching into a smile. It made your heart palpitate how stunning he looked as he grinned, with his blonde hair and red velvet jacket practically radiating confidence. He probably strutted instead of walked too. God, why were they all so beautiful.

 Yoongi scoffed loudly, before promptly returning his attention back to the book he had been trying to read. Jimin whined, draping himself back against his chair as if he were dying. “Don’t even think about throwing anything else at me, I’ll turn you into a cat again. This time you won’t be able to change back unless I say so,” Yoongi warned, a dangerous glint to his eye. 

 Jimin met his jeer by sitting up straighter, his own emerald eyes glinting an icy blue. If you’d have blinked, you’d have missed the way Jimin’s hair suddenly darkened from blonde to a deep fiery red. 

“That’s low, hyung. Because you know Jungkook can’t help himself when he sees a cat! He turns straight away, last time he chased me for a whole hour!”  

 “Ya! It was not that long! Stop making everything seem more dramatic than it really is, Jimin.” Jungkook countered, slamming his fists on the table and causing everything to jump.

Silently, you locked eyes with Hoseok directly across from you, who was trying to enjoy his meal in peace. He sighed deeply, defeated. Something told you this must be a regular occurrence when they sat down for a meal together. His fork was halfway to his lips when Jimin knocked his arm in his bickering, leaving a trail of gravy down the front of his white tunic where his food dropped.

Taehyung stood, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape and all the commotion in the room ceased. He walked to the open door before pausing to turn and look at you expectantly. 

 “(Y/N), come with me.”

 ***

There were so many faces. Every step you progressed deeper into the mansion, seemingly further away from the only people who seemed to occupy it, yet you were always being watched. 

It was difficult to see past his broad shoulders, swaying with each step he took, so your attention turned to the walls as they passed. He owned a great number of statues, and a lot of paintings you noticed. Yet, the thing that seemed strange about the number of stone figures was that they greatly outnumbered the amount of real people in this large place. You hadn’t been here very long, but it became apparent rather quickly just how empty these walls seemed.

An eerie feeling of loneliness clung to the air, permeating it in the facade of art. Perhaps he liked being that way. Perhaps he just liked art. Who knew? You certainly didn’t, he was a complete stranger to you and had been none too hasty to reveal anything to you. Yet.

 The walls around you slowly changed from being dark, solid wood that left you feeling enclosed, to panels of glass like a greenhouse with plants every few steps. The hallway opened up to reveal a larger space with a fountain in the middle, water softly trickling down in white noise. He didn’t look at you, instead Taehyung perched himself on the edge of the pond, staring into the water in silence. 

“Sit,” he ordered, gaze not moving from his fingertips creating small ripples in the water’s surface. You were quick to obey, anxious about what you could sense Taehyung was about to reveal.

 “It all began about a year and a half ago, when an angel was cast from his place in heaven. That alone was not an uncommon occurrence, it has happened many times before and was no cause for alarm. Those on the path of righteousness sometimes stray so far they are unable to return, or simply aren’t welcome. They often become beings that spend the rest of their days in the human realms, living a sort of half existence. A select few, however, turn to darkness.” He said, still staring into the depths of the water. The back of your neck prickled due to the direction of the conversation. “This one particular angel, his name was Seungri.”

 There it was. The name immediately sent cold shivers down your spine, unconsciously your hands balled into fists. Taehyung regarded you with a careful gaze, trying to figure out what your nervous expression meant. The way your teeth sunk into the soft flesh of your bottom lip caught his gaze, his eyes following as you solemnly nodded. “I know it.” 

 He sat up much straighter at your confession, visibly intrigued.

“I had this terrifying dream that I was dying. No…not dying. I was murdered. The strangest thing was I felt like I wanted to trust the man who drove the dagger into my heart. I wanted to trust him…Seungri,” you described in a small voice, fearful of what reaction your revelation might elicit from the man next to you. Yet he didn’t move, didn’t appear to breathe as if a picture-perfect replica of one of his many sculptures.

“The occurrence that you speak of, you didn’t dream it I’m afraid. You are describing something that really happened.”

 “What – no, you can’t be serious,” you quipped back, yet Taehyung only looked at you solemnly. His silence told you everything you needed to know. “But it was horrific.” Without a word, he stood and held out his hand to you, and without question you took it.

Before giving you a chance to stand on your own he was pulling you to your feet with unnatural strength. Another tug brought you stumbling right into his solid chest, and his arms wrapped around you. It felt nice and warm and oh so comforting for a fleeting moment before the room around you was swallowed by tendrils of black smoke. Your stomach lurched from the feeling of suddenly moving inhumanly fast, and when you blinked your surroundings were entirely changed.

The bright white room was still spinning in your eyes when you came to, you could somewhat make out the dozens of marble statues scattered around.

“H-how…how did you do that?!” You questioned, only able to focus on the face directly in front of you while the rest of the room was hazy.

“I’m a demon, sweetheart. I can do a lot more.” He teased, turning to look around.

You suddenly noticed was that you had been here before. This was the exact place your dream had occurred, and you gasped softly, looking toward the end of the room.

There stood a statue of Eve in the very place that she died.

Startled by the reality of it all, you stepped back only to gently bump into Taehyung. Large, warm and already familiar hands gripped your shoulders to steady you. “I know it’s a lot to take in,” he reassured, the corner of his mouth curving upwards. Did he really just smile at you? (Y/N)?

You gave him a small nod before stepping away, attention shifting back to the statue. The closer you got, the more it was like looking in a mirror. Cautiously, you traced a finger down the bridge of her nose, across her lips, and you swear you felt the faintest touch mirrored on your own. A faint shudder manifested through your body as your fingertips slipped off her chin. Your chin, you couldn’t help but think.

Taehyung’s eyes were glued to every move you made, every little curious touch, the way you frowned slightly when you discovered she even had the same mole on her right ear. You were more cautious, didn’t seem to trust things so easily. Unlike Eve. You weren’t like her at all.

“Who was she?” You finally asked after a long silence, turning back to look at Taehyung.

“She was a goddess, and a powerful one at that. I still remember the evening she came here for the first time, as if she could sense we were in danger. It was pouring rain, a night much like this one, and she was drenched to the bone and freezing.”

“But where did she come from? Surely you would have heard of her before?” You cut in, curiosity getting the better of you.

Taehyung tutted, looking slightly irritated at your interruption. “Inquisitive little human, aren’t you?” Your mouth twisted into a sour pout, not really appreciating the comment since all this time he’d kept you in the dark about what was really happening. His features softened a little. “But I can understand why you would be. She came to us the day after Seungri fell. At first, nothing was out of place. Things were…good and…happy. She made me happy.”  The last part was so quiet you barely heard, but when you did your heart twisted.

“It’s been a year since, well…you know well enough what happened,” he continued. “Small run ins between the magical beings that roam the human realm are by no means uncommon, neither was Seungri’s fall from grace unheard of. There was no cause for alarm, and that was the first mistake we made. She came to us for a reason, we should have been paying more attention. Creatures of all kinds started showing up dead, even angels. The strangest part was they had all been drained of their abilities. We’re not sure exactly how many, because their bodies began to disappear as well. See all the statues? These were all people I loved. He killed them, Seungri killed them.”

“What?” you gasped, stepping toward him. “Oh Taehyung…I’m so sorry.”

“What’s done is done. I couldn’t protect them.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this. Your actions were not what caused their deaths.” He wouldn’t look at you, and your hand bunched into a fist from the urge to touch his shoulder or do something to comfort him, but you decided against it. “I can’t help but ask…why did he do it?”  

“Simple, he wanted power. He wanted to be the most powerful being in existence, forge his own throne and have everyone bow to him. Somehow he has the ability to siphon others’ abilities, which makes him very dangerous. Our second mistake was underestimating him, we should never have left Eve alone. I thought she could easily protect herself if he went after her. I was wrong, he was much more powerful that I thought. She put up a good fight, however, it didn’t kill him. He was severely wounded, and we haven’t seen any sign of him since. But he’s out there somewhere, recovering and waiting. I have no idea what his next move will be, he’s been silent for so long. I’ve been trying everything in my own power and those I know to hunt him down while he is weak. But if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s being a coward.”

“But that still doesn’t explain why I’m here, and why I look like her,” you pointed out, turning back to stand face to face with the statue.  

“I think I know,” his deep voice came from behind you, warm breath tickling the back of your neck and causing the hairs to stand on end. You turned around only to find Taehyung was incredibly close, he backed you into the statue, a tiny squeak leaving you when you hit stone. Your eyes were drawn to the intriguing shape of his lips, your own tingled in memory of the way his devoured them. “The universe needs balance, and when Eve was...gone, it gave us you. I had begun to lose hope that we would have a fighting chance against him when he does inevitably return. But now we have you – you can help us. You bring a new hope to this war.”

“Hope? Hope? Have you ever considered that maybe you’re wrong? I’m not some super powerful goddess or entity or whatever she was. Have you considered that maybe I don’t want to be your fucking mascot? To fight a war that, quite frankly, terrifies me? I’m not just some replacement that you can snatch up because it was so convenient. Surely, I have more purpose than that...” you trailed off, voice that began as defensive fading to a defeated mumble.

“Do you really think that’s true, (Y/N)?” Taehyung asked, a knowing taunt to his question. As if he could see all the hours you spent staring at your ceiling while you weren’t working in hospitality, deciding what course you life was going to take. Not just from now on either, for you had asked yourself that many times in the past. Where are you going? Who are you? What are you doing? When will you change? 

At your silence, Taehyung moved forward even further causing you to press harder against the marble statue. Against what was essentially Eve’s tombstone, all the memories of how she was violently murdered came rushing back into your mind. Was that what fate awaited you?

 “I don’t want any part in this,” was all you managed to choke out before you shoved past him. 

So you ran.  

You ran as fast as your feet would carry you. The distance that you and Taehyung had walked passed by in a blur, the entrance hall coming closer and closer. Chairs scraped as the others scrambled to stand when you rushed past the dining room. Faintly, through the ringing in your ears you heard Jungkook almost whining your name.

The iron gate slammed shut behind you, sounding like another crack of thunder through the rain, the droplets battering against your skin. Your vision was obscured by it as you located the scooter and kicked it to life, not once looking over your shoulder as the mansion grew further and further away.

It was easier not to believe. Much, much simpler to just take a warm shower and succumb to sleep once you arrived back to your dark and silent apartment. Tomorrow you would go to work like usual. It was normal, and normal was good, you could understand it. Normal was safe.

***

“...me. Hello? Excuse me!” 

The cold of the drink seeping into your hand finally snapped you out of the daydream that had been occupying your thoughts, your fingertips tingling from becoming numb. 

“Right! Yes, sorry. Here you go, one large iced mocha to go,” you announced as if you hadn’t been almost drooling on yourself moments ago mid-daydream. The young customer took it from your hands and backed away slowly, almost as if you would try to harm him if he made any sudden movements. You wanted to throw your arms in the air and yell I’m not crazy! However, you knew that would certainly have the opposite effect. A fed-up huff came from your lips as you shook your head, trying to rid yourself of all these lingering thoughts. No, you didn’t want to know if Taehyung was thinking of you...right? No! He was dangerous and would only bring trouble and disruption into your perfectly peaceful life. Anyway, days had passed and you were safe now and fully intended on living a mundane and monster free lifestyle.

“Excuse me, dear,” a frail voice drew your attention back to the counter, where a short elderly woman waited patiently for assistance. You were in front of her in an instant, smiling kindly at the way her hands trembled as they gripped her cane weakly. “I was wondering if you could help me with the board up there. I’m terribly sorry, I’ve left my glasses somewhere and it’s a struggle for me to see very far without them.”

“Oh no, it’s alright. Don’t apologise, I’ll go through the options with you. Here,” you pulled out a much smaller menu from the display and began rattling off each item to her, but the brush of her finger on your hand stopped you abruptly.

“Say, a young lady I once knew had a mole just like the one on your wrist. She was very pretty, just like you,” the old lady commented, a kind smile etched into her wrinkled features.

The remark was very sweet and would normally have left you feeling warm and fuzzy inside, however, you couldn’t help the way you internally recoiled at the way she said just like you. A cold shiver ran down your spine due to the way she looked at you intensely, but you couldn’t blame her due to her old eyes. Regardless, you still rushed to finish up with her and seat her at one of the tables, the rather thick hairs around her top lip and the glassiness were starting to creep you out.

You spent the next two hours being run off your feet as usual, huffing in relief when it was time for you to go home finally. Despite getting the answers you so desired, your ability to sleep seems to have only gotten worse, as did the nightmares. So much for normal, it was easy to pretend while you were at work, as soon as you got home it was so quiet on your own. It was still more than a week until Isabella was due back from her holiday with her family, and you missed her terribly.

A loud thunk sound made you jump, only to relax when you saw a napkin pressed up against the glass from inside the coffee shop. Friday? it read in sharpie, held up by your coworker with a large grin spread across his face. You couldn’t help the way your own mouth copied his, breaking out into an ecstatic smile as well. He had asked you to accompany him to a party on Friday night, and you had agreed a little too eagerly, jumping at the opportunity to do something which you once thought you’d never enjoy. A small nod from you had him grinning wider, despite the minute feeling of guilt that bubbled up within you. No matter how many times you tried to convince yourself you might actually like him if you gave him a chance, you continued to catch yourself thinking about him. 

You took your frustration out on a small rock that came across your path, continually kicking it along the footpath in front of you every couple of steps. Each time it travelled a little farther as you got more annoyed with yourself. You would never see the man again, it’s so much easier to just forget about him. Yet you had to admit your heart ached in a way it never had before, like an undeniable connection was under the threat of being broken. Like the two of you were destined to be togeth-

“Argh!” You cried out, giving the stone an especially harsh kick. There you go again, letting your thoughts run rampant. The rock skidded to a stop at the intersection, right at the feet of an elderly person about to step into oncoming  traffic. Acting blindly, you lurched forward into a sprint. “Wait! It’s not safe to cross yet!” She froze midstep, unable to move until you grabbed her shoulder before she could step any farther, gasping when you recognised the little old lady from before.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, grasping your arm to steady herself when she stumbled, suddenly released from her daze. She blinked a couple of times, squinting up at you before her eyes narrowed further. “It’s you…” Her voice dropped with the last two words, and you swore she hissed. You were about to ask her if she was hurt while straightening, but her grip on your arm tightened. 

“Hey,” you cooed in a soothing tone, she might be in shock or frightened. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

“You’re not.” 

“What?”

“He’s coming for you. It’s only a matter of time.” 

In the blink of an eye you were pulled toward her with an unnatural amount of strength for her deceitful appearance, and white hot pain erupted from your arm as her sharp teeth sunk deep into the flesh. You tried to scream in pain and fear, but her hand clamped over your mouth, clawed fingernails digging into your cheek hard enough to draw blood. You mustered enough strength to push her off, her teeth momentarily latching on harder causing more of your flesh to tear as you struggled to get away. She screamed out in a manic laugh, but you had already turned and began to flee, wild panic driving you to sprint faster. Before long your lungs were burning and you had tears streaming down your face but you didn’t dare stop. A look over your shoulder only caused you more terror at the sight of some kind of demon in pursuit on all fours, nose following your trail of blood.

You made a sharp right turn, stomach dropping in dread when you saw a few innocent bystanders. You screamed at them to run, waving your uninjured arm maniacally. However, they didn’t budge as you caught up to them, didn’t hear you coming up behind even as you made quite the ruckus. You stopped abruptly in front of them, panic obvious in your expression and the way your chest heaved. Just as you were about to cry out in a panic yet again they walked right past you, completely oblivious.

They couldn’t see or hear you.

You stumbled after them as they passed, deep in conversation with one another but it was useless. They continued to walk down the street, unaware of your presence. They soon disappeared from sight while you continued to stumble along the path, feet dragging and vision blurring around the edges. Something was definitely wrong, you thought as you collapsed on the ground. A glance at your arm confirmed it was healed, no longer dripping with blood but the two puncture marks were still prominent. They looked infected and pulsated with something dark green. 

After a few seconds your vision became far too blurry, and you found yourself unable to keep your eyes open any longer. Everything started to go black and you slumped to the ground, succumbing to unconsciousness. 

***

When you opened your eyes again, all you could see was darkness still. It must have been the middle of the night, you noticed as you sat up in bed, your bed you noticed. The familiar dark space of your bedroom came into focus as you blinked several times, willing away the bittersweet embrace of sleep. Quickly you pulled your arm out from under the covers, noticing it no longer hurt, and as you looked closer you could see no evidence of the encounter ever happening. Was it another nightmare? It must have been, how did you get back home safely? What happened to the demon that was following you?

As if sensing your thoughts, you noticed an unfamiliar shape in the corner of the room where the shadows were at their darkest. You gasped quietly, panic setting in as an arm reached out, fingers brushing the stem of the lamp. You froze as a soft glow illuminated your room.

In the armchair, one ankle hooked casually over his knee sat Taehyung. His rings shone softly in the light as they drummed against his cheek.

“Quite the troublemaker, aren’t we?”

“I-I um,” you shuffled through your thoughts trying to look for an explanation, seeming as though he likely found you unconscious on the sidewalk, arm mauled and venom pumping through your veins.  “Well, it’s not l-l-like I...um,” you swallowed nervously as he stood from his seat, slowly stepping toward the bed. He cocked an eyebrow at your unfinished answer. “I didn’t go looking for it, it just happened.”

“A lot of things seem to have just happened to you recently, haven’t they?” He questioned rhetorically, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. He was much closer now, and you sank back down into the sheets gripping the covers almost to your chin. It was cooler in his presence and you were well aware of how much your nipples poked out against the thin fabric of your shirt. “You’re not safe by yourself. Come back to the mansion, please Y/N. Come back to me.” He whispered, each word he spoke he had inched closer until his breath fanned over your cheek. You didn’t stop him even as his lips brushed your skin, capturing the corner of your mouth. You didn’t stop him as his fingertips dragged up your body over the covers, drawing a line straight through the valley of your breasts and his fingers gripped the top of the doona. He pulled it down slowly, and you gasped softly at the way it dragged over your painfully stiff peaks. Taehyung easily swallowed the sound, laving his tongue over yours in a brief show of dominance. 

“What are you-” you began to ask but you were quickly silenced by his index finger being pressed to your lips.

“Hush sweetheart.” He bent down, warm breath tickling your lips before seeking to nibble on the corner of your mouth again. Instead of moving to deepen the kiss, he continued a blazing path down your cheek toward your ear. He sat back on his haunches, fingertips brushing the top of your blanket that was still covering your legs before eyeing you, waiting. You nodded once, giving him silent permission and Taehyung pulled the covers down, a rush of cool air made your skin break out in goose bumps yet you felt hotter than ever. He slotted a knee between your thighs as his mouth returned to your neck, his delightful lips pressed a soft kiss right behind your ear after he leaned down to whisper words of praise to you for allowing him access.

 His hot, wet tongue made you squirm when it laved over the crook in your neck, seeking out the spot where you were most sensitive. You whined loudly when he found it, a satisfactory smirk stretching across his lips before he began suckling a bruise there. Your nipples scraped over his chest with every heave of your lungs, god they were extra sensitive right now. He relented with a chuckle, shifting further down to nip your collarbone before honing in on the stiff peak poking through your shirt.

He drew your left nipple into his mouth, and your hips bucked unconsciously as you gasped, his hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, kneading firmly. The cavern of his mouth was so hot and created a wet patch where he suckled your peak through your shirt. A nip of his teeth drew another whine from you, before he relented the abused nipple only to latch on to the other. 

“Spread your legs for me sweetheart, that’s it,” he whispered, not really giving you an option with the way his fingers gripped your knees and pried them open, but it was embarrassing how quickly you complied. How quickly you wanted to comply. “Good girl, so eager and ready for me, aren’t you?” Quickly he settled his own hips at the apex of your thighs, and you mewled at the feeling of his bulge brushing against the wet patch on your sleep shorts. 

 “Please Taehyung,” you whimpered, whole body twitching with need. You jumped again when the cool metal of his rings brushed across your heated skin, trailing down your hips until his fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts. He glanced up and locked eyes with you for a moment, something feral was alight in his gaze that made your pelvic floor clench around nothing. You shivered as he dragged your shorts, panties included, ever so slowly, never breaking eye contact.

Taehyung’s mouth quickly followed, laving over your stomach in slow, torturous kisses. Occasionally he would nip your skin and soothe the bite with a lick. When he finally sat back, his grip on your knees tightened and he pushed them wide apart, gaze falling to your exposed core. You whimpered in embarrassment and tried to snap them closed but it only elicited a growl from him, clearly displeased at your disobedience. When you stilled he smirked, and shifted down to lay on his stomach with his face centimetres from your cunt. Warm air fanned against your glistening folds as he chuckled in amusement at how worked up you had gotten.

“You’re practically gushing, sweetheart. Do you really need me that badly?” He questioned, but before you had an opportunity to answer he dragged his flattened tongue over your honeyed hole, devouring your juices in long slow swipes. The muscle ventured to the side, sucking hickies all around your pussy lips but making no move to return to your most sensitive parts.

The drag of his sinfully warm tongue continued on and was driving you near insane, drawing one long, wide circle just outside of where you needed him most. Every now and then he would tease you with the lightest lave of the muscle over your clenching orepheus, but he never quite delved in. Your pussy clenched pathetically from the lightest dip.

Suddenly driven impatient and worked up to a point where you didn’t care, your hands flew down to find purchase in his silky blonde locks. You attempted to push his head further into your heat to gain some stimulation as you rutted your hips up, not remember that he had an agenda of his own. With a feral growl, he pulled away, one large hand coming to enclose your wrists and tug them from his head.

“Now now sweetheart, you aren’t being very well behaved are you? I might just have to put you over my knee and teach you some manners, hm?” He drawled, the pads of his fingers dipping into your wetness teasingly, before sitting back as he brought them up to admire the strings of your arousal that connected them. 

“Please please,” you whined, continuing to squirm. The playful smirk he once adorned fell from his face only to be replaced by something displeased. His free hand moved so suddenly you barely registered the movement until you felt a sharp sting across your pussy. He repeated the action once more, leaving you mewling underneath him from the smack.

 “First warning,” he growled, hunkering back down.

Finally his tongue delved into your entrance, licking up the pool of juices you were sure had gathered there by now. The tip of his tongue stopped just short of your throbbing bud, and you squirmed from being so close to the stimulation you craved. His thumb came up just above your pearl, pulling back the hood to expose it. He blew air on it gently and when your hips began to buck he finally trapped it between his lips only to begin suckling without mercy. The action tore a near scream from your lips, if you were squirming before, you were positively thrashing now as his teeth nipped at your sensitive clit. The sudden you onslaught of pleasure had your pelvic muscles contracting so hard you swore you almost gushed all over the sheets.

He eased off a little, opting for more gentle suckles and licks against your bud, but they were strong enough to still have you clenching and whining as your climax drew closer. The push of something slim and solid against your entrance had your eyes going wide for a moment, before he sunk his middle finger into your cunt easily. Immediately your walls clamped down on it, welcoming the intrusion. Taehyung lifted his head off to admire the way your head was thrown back against the pillows, eyes rolling back into your head. You whimpered when he pushed another finger in, two making a delicious stretch that had your spread legs twitching. He chuckled endearingly at your response, and how smoothly you’d taken them into your sopping pussy.

“Good girl,” he hummed. “So eager for me, let me hear you.” 

The continuous drag of his fingers against your walls elicited a loud moan from your panting lips, particularly when he easily located the soft spongy bed of nerves nestled within. He crooked his fingers, pleased at the way you grew tighter, that coil in your stomach getting closer to snapping. “That’s it sweetheart, come for me,” he growled, lips seizing your clit once more and he lashed his tongue against it without mercy in tangent with the movement of his wrist. 

After being on the brink for some time, this easily tipped you over and you hurtled into your climax. You felt every muscle lock up as you hit the peak of pleasure, a loud sting of cries torn from within as you began to tremble and buck your hips when Taehyung refused to let up. The pleasure became a little overwhelming once your orgasm had finally subsided, and you pushed Taehyung away with a whine. He sat back, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. The fingers that still glistened with your juices, rings and all, were popped into his mouth. He groaned as they dragged over his tongue, and the sound made you twitch, still sensitive.

His sinful lips were moving, but no sound was coming from them. You frowned, still in an elated haze wondering if perhaps it was just your ears ringing. He was talking more, the expression on his face looking alarmed now.

You tried to sit up, reassure him that you felt completely fine but strong hands gripped your shoulders and held you back down. When you looked up your vision was blurred, your eyes were unable to focus on the room around you and you could no longer see Taehyung clearly. 

You began to resist against the hands holding you down, shouting out in confusion. Your arm throbbed in pain, it felt white hot and swollen. Someone was shaking you by the shoulders, and you squeezed your eyes shut. This felt wrong, you felt incredibly groggy and your head was pounding.

“(Y/N)! Wake up!” A voice was calling out, sounding far away. It repeated your name a few times, each one getting louder until your eyes snapped open to look at the figure hovering over you, hands gripping your shoulders.

“Yoongi?”

“Would you like to explain why I found you half dead on the sidewalk?”

***

You were back at the mansion.

Shadows danced in the corners of the room as the fire cast a warm glow across the library, giving off comforting crackling sounds every few seconds. Taehyung was noticeably absent, and you opened your mouth to question his whereabouts. An uneasy feeling came over you, however, and you decided against it. He didn’t want to see you right now.

You had woken up in Yoongi’s workroom, your wounded arm wrapped in a bandage. A demon bite, and a nasty one too he informed you. The type that causes people to go insane before they died, hallucinating things they...desire. The fire warmed your already rosy cheeks, flaming in embarrassment at what had occurred in your dream. It felt incredibly real.

“I can’t believe you survived that, honestly. I’ve seen a lot of bites like that before and the end result is never anything pretty. People go downhill pretty quickly.” Yoongi mused, staring straight into the burning flames, light flickering in his eyes.

“Good people too,” Hoseok added as he came back into the room, offering you a steaming mug of tea which you accepted gracefully. “Here.” He also draped a blanket across your shoulders, causing you to melt a little under his doting. 

“Thank you, really.”

“Don’t mention it, you’ve been through quite a lot, and I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse. Demon numbers are on the rise. No doubt it’s related to...him.” Hoseok looked away as he talked about Seungri, and you eyed his wings remembering how Seungri had a pair just like them, only black. You had a sinking feeling the two were connected somehow. 

“That...thing. The demon, it said something to me. He’s coming for me.” You shuddered at the thought, at your dreams, what Taehyung said to you. Everyone in the room turned to look at you, and Yoongi opened his mouth to speak.

He was interrupted as a crack of thunder boomed through the sky, flashes of lightning illuminating the room. The doors to the library were thrown open with a tremendous bang causing everybody to jump. Two figures appeared in the doorway as more lightning struck.

“Well, well, well…what do we have here?” The first one said, tilting his head at you and giving a far from comforting smile. Yoongi was quick to be by your side.

“Namjoon, Seokjin….this is (Y/N).”

A/N: I’m sorry for the late update!!! I know it’s been a really long time but I’m such a slow writer, plus my mental state hasn’t been very good lately. If I missed you on the tag list I’m sorry, it’s hard to keep track!!

Tag list:  @lachiminlajimin​ @sugasheart @jessilliam-caronday@yikesskaina @wonzigyumin @diorluvs@xxqueenwxtchxx @irissilujm​ @sweetcrvture @mrcleanheichou @youtube-obsessed-duh @sarahkriswugirl@bangtanlove16 @mariacorbi @baby-hobii@catsandstrawberries @it-is-dana @januarythirteen @just-a-little-teapot13 @jooheonbee​ @crajishie​ @lyuxs​ @t-mel19​ @joonsroses​ @valiantcollectorofsandwiches​ @psiphidragon​ @ro2424​ @mingukmania​

[mementomori-demimonde]

Hidden Scars

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X

Chapter 11.1 

YOU CHOOSE TO STAY IN

You keep staring at your foot trapped in the crack of the door. Suddenly, the promise you’ve made a while ago rings in your head: you swore you wouldn’t leave, that you would stay, and the scars on your left shoulder are a token for your obedience, your willingness to follow her instructions.

After all, you really don’t want to find out what the punishment would be - you’ve never really broken a promise before, but you imagine the consequences won’t be pleasant - also this might be another test. You wonder if you’ve considered, even for a moment, that she’s just seized the opportunity to put on a show and see your reaction? Perhaps she wanted you to catch the door with your foot, perhaps she’s studying your movements from a secret camera on her phone, it wouldn’t be the first time.

You imagine her coming back in a few hours top, a box of cupcakes in her hand as she grins, praising you and acting like nothing really important has happened, carrying on with your ‘normal’ lives like any other day, making you forget about the event as well, putting onto it the hazy veil of a dream until you start to question if it was really one or not.

You draw a shaky breath and, praying with all your might that you’re making the right decision, you withdraw your foot and let the door slide close, locking itself with a soft click .

Miranda doesn’t come back in a few hours.

Miranda doesn’t come back in the night.

Miranda doesn’t come back in the morning, nor the following day.

Miranda doesn’t come back for a week, nor after then days, or twenty.

Miranda simply doesn’t come back and you’re fearing the worst.

You’ve started tormenting yourself after a few days, the guilt eating you alive from the inside, because if only you’d gone after her, perhaps things would be different, now.

What if that danger caught her? What if you could’ve helped her? What if it’s too late? How can you move on, now, that your life before Miranda has been completely erased, up to the point that you’re wondering if you’re even able to function without her?

After the third week locked inside an apartment with very little distraction, you can barely discern day and night. You sometimes find yourself doing push-ups that are meant for the morning in the evening, you’re spinning your knife while munching on some energy bars that are supposed to be your dinner, and graze almost affectionately at in while you shower, mesmerized by the little droplets of blood that get suckled into the drain when you press the blade into your hand or prick your thigh.

Miranda is the only thought that stays in your mind. You wonder when you’ve eaten last time when your stomach grumbles, but you refuse to get up from your cocoon of blankets until the urge to relieve yourself is unbearable and you drag yourself to the bathroom.

More than once, you’ve contemplated the idea of simply going out and restarting a life on your own. But that would mean forgetting about Miranda… and you don’t want that.

You miss her.

The mere thought of her being in danger because of you, or her being dead, dumped into a canal because you made her flee, has your stomach twist.

You would make time go back and go after her if only you could. You would go out and look for her if you only knew where to start. However, Miranda has always been a great question mark: you don’t even know for certain what is her job, if she’s really an assassin or a spy for that matter, let alone the enemies she has so stubbornly kept secret all this time. What are you going to do? Wander dark alleys at night hoping some creepy guy has some information about a possible killer named Miranda? It’s absurd.

You have no other option than to wait, and hope - and pray - she’s not dead. After all, Miranda is strong, she’s clever, she’s mean when she has to, she knows very little limits- she can do it, she can make it, she can come back. Home, to you.

The door remains closed for another couple of days.

You’re laying on the carpet, the half bottle of liquor next to you it’s opened just to smell the intoxicating scent of alcohol and trigger memories of her. You’re spinning the knife around without looking, hissing when the sharp blade cuts through the skin of your palm, but you don’t care for the pain.

Instead, the noise of the keys rattling on the other side of the closed-door has you shot your eyes open in alertness, and you lift your head from the floor.

The lock clicks, and you’re suddenly aware of yourself, as if brought back to life, when the door cracks open. You spot a familiar lather coat poking in before her.

Miranda, all in black like always, slips inside with a shuddering sigh. She spins quickly on her heels, giving her back, and pushes the door closed with her hand, letting it rest on the wooden surface.

“Miranda?” You call, your voice hoarse for the prolonged inactivity - or when was the last time you drank something?

Slowly, you push yourself up, wondering, for a moment, if you’re not dreaming. After all, you did imagine her the other day, after forgetting about eating for far too long, but she revealed herself to be just an illusion.

This time, however, it isn’t. You can feel it in your bones that she’s real.

“You didn’t come after me.” She murmurs.

She’s still giving you her back, she’s distant, and yet her words hurt like stabs. You can’t see her face, but her eyes are carved in your brain - every move, every light, every twitch, every hidden emotion.

It’s been weeks, but you still remember them after thinking about her for hours, all day, every day, and you know the brightness in them is opaque now, her iris glassy for some tears she would try to hide, in any other circumstance.

Not now, though.

She doesn’t hide the quiver in her voice either, merely clears her throat.

“Good girl, not breaking your promises.” She chuffs out a chuckle, but you can hear the disappointment there. “So obedient, even when-”

She trails off and you swallow, her voice, your promises, swirling around your head and blending into a tormenting tune.

“You wanted me to come after you?” You wonder, brow pinched as you stand up, rubbing your hands together to get rid of some inexistent dust. The irony of it all as you puzzled: she’s spent months trying to get you to listen to her, reminding you to keep your promises, and now she’s telling you that you were allowed, after all, to break the most important one: not leaving.

You hear a dull thud when Miranda rests her forehead against the door.

“It doesn’t matter now.” She mumbles, and she sounds so tired, so broken that your first thought is to rush to her and pull her down to the couch, or help her to bed, strip her of her clothes to let her rest while you boil the water for the tea and your life returns to have a purpose.

You’ve taken barely a couple of steps when she turns over, and you gasp, stopping dead in your tracks.

Miranda’s face is all bruised. Her lip is split in the middle, there’s a faint dark halo under her left eyes and scratch marks on the cheekbone, her neck is marked by a crossed reddish lines, and she’s keeping her left arm clutched to her chest in a such awkward angle, you’d bet her shoulder is dislocated.

You see your own fear and confusion, and guilt reflected into her eyes and there’s nothing you can do to make either of those go away.

“Miranda- what happened to you?” You breathe out with a terrified wheeze, wondering if you really could’ve prevented all this if you’d just disobeyed, broken a promise, and chased after her after you told her you loved her.

Her silence makes your heart thrum in your chest, you try to take a step closer to her, but once again, you stop.

“We’ve got no time.” She murmurs, pressing her lips together, seemingly unbothered by the wound on her mouth, smeared with clotted blood. “They’re coming to get you,” she says, her tone is urgent when she sighs, “to punish me.”

You would ask for more information about who is going to assault the two of you in her apartment any time now, but you already know you’d get no answer, not to mention that you’re probably in immediate danger already.

You swallow, shaking your head, your dominant hand already reaching for the dagger that you keep strapped to your leg - you kept it there all those days because the idea of having it on you, as she showed you, as she told you to do, gave you comfort.

“We can take them.” You blurt out, your brow pinching. “Together, we can do it- please, you trained me for this-”

Miranda shakes her head. She’s smiling, but you can taste all the bitterness and the sadness that lay beneath it.

“No, this was a mistake from the beginning.” She murmurs, her voice thicker than usual, soft and sharp at the same time. “I knew you were different and I kept you anyway… or maybe because of it, I don’t know.” She’s leaning heavily against the door now, her sane hand rummaging into her pocket without a real purpose. “I was arrogant and selfish and you’ll pay for it. I’ll pay for it, we’ll both-”

In a few strides, she’s in front of you, the immense distance between you, suddenly gone. You gaze into those blue eyes you missed so much and find the halo of unshed tears there. The closeness of her wounds makes you wince in sympathy. You can feel her hot breath crashing onto your mouth.

You would like to touch her face, but you fear being rejected. There are still so many unresolved issues between you that everything is difficult and the incoming peril makes it even more complicated.

To your surprise, however, it’s Miranda that touches your face, instead. Her hand comes warm against your cheek, the thumb stroking lightly over the seam of your lips. You would talk, but you can’t, too caught in that moment.

“Know that I’m doing this because you make us weak-” She whispers, but the accusation in her voice is unmatched by the velvet in her voice. “And also because I-” Her breath hitches, your heart skips a beat when she closes her eyes and exhales. “I won’t let them have you, m’eudail, no matter what it costs.”

She’s kissing you now, and it’s desperate: it doesn’t taste of hope, it doesn’t taste of homecoming; it has the coppery taste of blood from her split lip with the bitter undertones of goodbyes. It scares you.

“I’m sorry.” Miranda whispers, parting from you.

Without tearing her eyes off of you, she walks backward toward the kitchen.  She pulls out from the pocket the hand you thought was rummaging purposelessly and reaches under the table.

You know what she keeps there, after all, you helped her with the tape that keeps the gun strapped below the marble.

You jerk when you hear the harsh ripping sound.

You swallow nothing when she walks back to you.

The metal is cold on your forehead when Miranda places it there.

You close your eyes when she rests her index finger on the trigger and pulls.

[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll Chapter Two

Read on AO3

“Mrs. Randall, ye have a visitor.” Claire stared at the nurse, curiosity plain on her face. 

 She left and softly closed the door behind her. Minutes later, Claire heard the click of the lock again and strained her neck towards the noise. 

 Graham smiled sheepishly as he shuffled into her room. He held a small bouquet of heather, thistles, and gorse wrapped in twine. 

 “Hello miss, tis lovely tae see ye again. I picked these just this afternoon on my way here. I was lucky they were all so close together.” The boy searched the room and put the flowers in the empty vase on the table to her right. “I don’t know if ye remember, but I found you up at the standing stones. Well my mam always said to watch out for the faerie hill but I was a wee bit curious ye ken. I’m glad I took a wander over because… sorry miss my mam always tells me how I go blethering on about nonsense and such so that’s just to say I hope you are feeling better miss..?” 

 “Claire Fr.. err Randall.” Claire couldn’t help the smile at the young man's youth and almost naïveté, it was a breath of fresh air compared to the ordeals of the past months.

 She reached out her hand for him to shake. 

 “It was very kind of you to come visit Graham. Thank you.” He blushed at her compliment.

 “Well I brought some cards because I ken how boring it is to be locked up in one of these rooms. And the radio is a pounding nuisance sometimes as well. Last year I stumbled on one of the fence posts I was putting up when I was helping down at auld Hamish’s. The nail went straight through the leg and I ended up here a day. Mam was absolutely furious at me, boxed my ears till they rang for weeks. My mam’s a nurse here so it’s no trouble at all that I’m here right now visiting. I guess I get special insider privileges. I come here after school to do my schoolwork and she says I’m no bother. That’s what I was just doing before I decided to pop in here Miss.”

 Claire welcomed the ramblings of Graham. It was a nice distraction to the morbid thoughts that lay festering below.

 “Well I appreciate the company. My… husband just left to prepare things for our short stay here. I’m sorry I’m rubbish at most card games, but I’ll go my hand at it.” 

 The two chatted companionably and he even managed to pry out a laugh or two from her. Claire pushed down feelings of familiarity of Fergus and the boy before her. He couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than the boy she had just left behind hours ago, with the same long-lashed dark eyes and dark hair. Tears sprung at the thought of her son and she turned out of view to wipe them away. 

 “Do you have any fours?” Graham interrupted her thoughts. 

 “Ach! It feels like I’m being cheated here.” Claire flashed a smile and pushed forward the two cards on the table between them.

 “Hello darling. It seems you’ve made a new friend.”

 Claire stiffened at her husband's entrance into the small hospital room. Graham flicked his gaze between the two of them, sensing the tension. He awkwardly picked up the game in front of them and shoved the cards into his pocket.  

 “Yes. This is Graham Munro, the one who helped me to the hospital.”

 “Thank you for bringing my wife safely back into my custody Graham. I’m sure she has lots to tell me, and would appreciate time to rest.”

 Graham cleared his throat. “Well Miss Claire, I wish ye a speedy recovery. Twas a pleasure to meet ye.” 

 “You as well Graham. Thank you for the flowers.”

 The boy reached out to squeeze Claire’s hand and smiled warmly. He turned on his heel and raced out to the corridor. 

 Moments later, Frank shoved the table to the side and knelt by his wife’s side. He reached out to hold the hands that rested on her lap. Claire flinched at his touch once again and Frank furrowed his brow. Frank felt a squeeze in his hand and smiled up at her. She put on a strained smile as she stared down at him. He finally noticed the silver that encircled her right ring finger and made to take it off. She pulled her hand violently from his grasp and guarded the jewellry to her chest. He pushed off the reaction to the shock the doctor had described. He just needed to be patient. 

 “Darling, everything is prepared at the manse for our arrival. You’ll rest here tonight, recover, heal, and then I’ll bring you over in the morning. I left your suitcase there and I’m sure you’ll have enough to get you through our stay.” He walked over to a chair near the window while he spoke and placed her stays in his hands. 

 “Alright.” Her gaze was transfixed on her fingers in her lap. 

 “This is… remarkable Claire, where on earth did you find these?” 

 “Hmph.” Claire offered as a reply, almost mimicking the Scottish noise her husband always made.

 “Right I’m to leave with Reverend Wakefield to visit over some archives again. You’ll be in good hands here for now.” 

 A nurse wheeled in a cart and instructed Claire to rest. She gathered the sterile bandages from the metal tray and pulled back the cover of Claire’s hospital gown to display the burns flicking across the cream skin of her stomach. She winced as the nurse applied the salve against her sore skin so she took pity on her poor patient. The nurse pushed a syringe into her IV line and Claire’s limbs instantly relaxed. Her head filled with cotton and she wasn’t able to hold it up herself, until she let go of the tension within herself and slumped down on the stiff mattress. 

 It was cold and she was only in her shift, a white shawl draped across her shoulders. Piles of men dotted the ground and a bunny twitched its nose at her before sprinting away. There, underneath the corpse of his enemy, lay her husband. His body was covered in blood and crusted with dirt and deep scratches marked his body: the result of war. 

 “Are you alive?” She stretched her hand out towards his cheek.  

 Her hand cupped his stumbled jaw and his skin blazed against hers. The fever shook his body and sapped his energy. What little he had left was spent twisting his neck in her direction. A light dusting of snow covered the bloody grass of the moor. All too soon, she was pulled away and the sight of him faded from her grasp. 

***

The hours passed and the logs burned to small sticks, Frank replacing them every so often with new wood. He turned towards the table that held a half-empty glass, plying himself more and more with alcohol as the glass drowned in the weight of the drink. Claire worked tirelessly the precious few days where her husband hadn’t yet pressed her for an explanation, flipping through all available resources to find any trace of Jamie. Mrs. Graham had been a wonder in helping Claire but her attitude regardless would not have changed anything. The search was futile and failed to bring what she wanted. She couldn’t look for the family that was alive that she had left behind. The sacrifice and promise she made meant nothing with the outcome that soon became her every thought. She abandoned them all for a thought of a future, not even a live, breathing one.

 She spoke of her time with Jamie, reluctantly giving only the necessary pieces of her life, an outline that she would be able to view events from outside. She stepped out of her life and watched herself ramble on, an outsider and onlooker to a tragic event. That wasn’t her, those things couldn’t have happened to her. Claire finished her final thoughts in a daze, looking anywhere but Frank. 

 “Give me-excuse me please Claire I need some time to think this over.”

 Claire poured another glass for herself and slammed the burning liquid back along with a large pill from the hospital.

 Frank returned a few hours later, having thought in great depth. Claire’s thoughts were muddled. She couldn’t remember how many glasses she had.

 “Claire I can accept that you’ve had this… relationship with this man. I will never understand your feelings for him, but I can accept that you had this experience, and that leaving him broke your heart.” 

 “I don’t think you understand. I was with a man for two years, and I loved him deeply as his wife.” 

 “A point you’ve made several times and which I’ve said I understand. Now let me tell you this. I love you Claire, unconditionally, nothing you could do could stop my loving you.” 

 “Darling I’ve been offered a position at Harvard. I was thinking we could move to Boston together. Start over. Leave all...this behind.”

 She didn’t care. He was dead. She might as well have been too. Frank could do as he bloody well pleased. Her mind focused on the patterns of the carpet below her, forcing out any other thoughts. Her finger swirled in spirals in one spot on her thigh, mimicking what she saw.

 “Alright. ” 

 That was the first time Claire had looked into his eyes since her disappearance. His brown eyes were soft and crinkled in an attempt towards a smile to his wife. She couldn’t find the malice she desperately searched for. She needed the anger, the sharp coldness. It was too much. Frank kneeled at Claire’s feet and he reached to pull her down into his embrace. He brought her down to his chest. She stiffened. 

 “Claire, you've made me so happy. I know we’ll be happy. Together.” 

 “T-together? You mean for me to come along?” 

 “Of course, darling. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

 Claire only nodded in response. She knew she’d never be happy with Frank anymore, or anyone for that matter. She didn’t intend to live long, but what option did she have to resist a husband? Frank kissed her curls and pulled her head to his shoulder. He sniffled and pulled back, placing both hands gently on her face. 

 “But we must put the past behind us. You must promise me. No more searching for him. Let him go.”

 “Yes. That’s what he made me promise.” She was reminded of another promise she had broken and another pang stabbed her already distressed heart.

[unfolded73]

Husbands: Two Years In (3/5) - schitt’s creek ff

This fic is complete, posting every other weekday. While I'm including it as part of the "Labels" series, the preceding fics are not required reading. Previous fics in this series: Boyfriends; “I Love You”, Partners, Fiancés

Warning: This fic deals with depression as one of its major topics.

Rated Explicit, this chapter 5153 words. (ao3)

Thanks to @high-seas-swan for cheerleading and B13_MaybeThisTime for many valuable comments (and also cheerleading).

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: Summer

Wherever Patrick Brewer might have expected his the trajectory of his life to lead, even after he’d broken it off with Rachel and left his hometown, even after he realized he was gay and fell in love with a man, he could never have imagined a future that included walking down a sunny sidewalk in SoHo on an August afternoon with a woman like Moira Rose on his arm.

This trip to New York City had been in the works for months, planned for the break between the filming of Crows IV and the date when Moira would need to return to set for season three of the Sunrise Bay reboot. The entire Rose family had converged to visit Alexis on this trip, and this afternoon the plan was shopping, which Patrick had gone along with good-naturedly. He didn’t care about the shopping, but it was still fun to be in a city like this, to people-watch as Moira, Alexis, and David orbited around him. Johnny Rose, meanwhile, was meeting with an old friend and hadn’t joined them for this particular outing.

Alexis and David were several feet behind him and Moira, standing outside the Burberry store and arguing about the merits of a coat. Patrick assumed that even had he lingered to listen, what they were saying would have gone in one ear and out the other. So since Moira had taken his arm a few minutes before, he continued their slow promenade, figuring her kids would catch up when they got bored with their debate and noticed that they’d been left behind. Moira moved gracefully in platform heels and a vintage silver dress that probably cost more than Patrick’s entire wardrobe, a hat and large sunglasses obscuring most of her face as she attempted to avoid being recognized.

At the very moment that Patrick was thinking this, a middle-aged woman stopped in front of them, her hands flying to her mouth. “Moira Rose? Oh my god, I’m a huge fan!”

So the attempt to hide her identity only went so far, Patrick realized, watching Moira’s reaction. She pulled off her sunglasses and smiled. “I’m out with my family at the moment, but I would be delighted to pose for a quick photograph.”

The fan gave Patrick a once-over, seeming to consider and immediately reject the idea that he might be anyone important. Moira let go of Patrick and leaned in, almost but not quite touching the woman, and smiled wide for the two seconds that it took for the selfie to be taken.

“They didn’t really kill you off at the end of the last episode, did they? I mean, no one saw your body,” the woman said.

“Now now, surely you don’t think you can dragoon me into revealing spoilers for Sunrise Bay out here on the street like a common newsboy.” Patrick stifled a laugh at the idea of a newsboy out on the sidewalk, selling papers full of TV show spoilers. “But I do appreciate your apprehensiveness about poor Vivian. It would be an inauspicious ending for her if after all this time, her life was snuffed out at the bottom of that cistern, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Do keep watching!” Moira said with a flourish of her sunglasses to indicate that the woman was dismissed.

“My mom texted me with that same question about your character,” Patrick admitted, holding his elbow out again for her.

“I was trending the night that episode aired,” Moira said, tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow as they began walking again.

“You’re very kind to your fans,” he said.

“I remember what it was like to feel like I didn’t have many fans left,” she said in a lower register, her accent less ostentatious, the way it got when she was admitting something real, something true. “I don’t take this revival of my career for granted. Not for a second.”

His heart squeezed in his chest for her, for everything she’d gone through and everything she’d managed to claw her way back to achieve.

“Ooh, that’s a lovely handbag,” she said, leading him over to the window of another store.

Patrick thought it was hideous, but what did he know? “Do you want to go in?” he asked, looking down the street to see David and Alexis had finally started to wander in their direction, albeit slowly.

Moira shook her head, resuming their walk. “After those years of deprivation, I find I’m still not used to buying things on impulse. Isn’t that curious?”

“I mean, it’s no surprise those years left a mark. And being frugal is… wise.”

She smiled at him, then glanced back in Alexis and David’s direction. “Do you know, I find I’ve almost forgotten what David was like before he was with you, Patrick. He’s so… secure. It used to surprise me, seeing him like that, but now it’s who he is.”

He winced at the idea of taking credit for David’s growth. At the same time, he knew that David still had deep wells of anxiety lurking under the surface. Marriage hadn’t turned either of them into different people, much as they might sometimes look idyllic as a couple from the outside.

Before he could respond, Moira’s phone chirped from inside her large bag. “I bet that’s John,” she said as she rooted around for the device.

“There you are,” Patrick said to David as he and Alexis joined them.

“Yeah, no thanks to you, just leaving us behind,” David complained while Moira stepped away and spoke into her phone.

Patrick laughed. “We were a half a block ahead of you, David.”

David reached out and put his hands on Patrick’s shoulders. “Yes, but you’re new to the city,” he said with a crooked smile. “You could get lost. Or abducted.”

“I’m sure your mother would have protected me if it came to that.”

Moira finished her call. “I’m going to meet John back at the Plaza and have a little repose before dinner. Shall we reconvene later?”

“We could go back to the hotel too,” Patrick said to David. The Roses were paying for David and Patrick to stay at the same Manhattan hotel, a generous gift that meant they didn’t have to cram themselves into Alexis’ tiny apartment or rent a room in Queens, which David had recoiled at when Patrick suggested it. Pointing out that David had absolutely no logical reason to be picky about hotel rooms, all of which were a step above the place he’d lived for a few years, didn’t sway him.

“I’m still trying to get ideas for your anniversary present,” David said.

“My goodness, have you been married a year already?” Moira asked. “How time does fly.”

David brought his hands up to his cheeks and shook his head in disbelief. “Oh my god, we’ve been married two years, Mother. At least, in a few weeks we will have.”

Alexis reached over and booped Patrick’s nose. “And Patrick hasn’t even mentioned divorce once yet, David, which is impressive.”

“Mm, eat glass,” David said. Patrick grinned — he’d missed their ridiculous banter.

“There’s a gelato place across the street,” Patrick suggested, pointing. He wouldn’t have minded going back to the hotel to rest, but stopping for ice cream would be a good compromise.

David’s eyes lit up. “My husband knows me so well,” he said.

~*~

Patrick let himself be pushed down into the soft mattress, David’s naked body covering his, his mouth working, wet and insistent, against his jaw. “God, good hotels make me so hot,” David whispered.

Chuckling, Patrick ran a palm over the stubble on David’s cheek and back into his hair. “Then it’s a good thing that your parents’ room is on another floor,” he said. He was still a little tipsy from the wine they’d had during dinner at a very nice restaurant, and the process of getting undressed with David once they got back to their room had been a frantic blur.

“A very good thing.” David reached down and cupped Patrick’s hardening cock. “What are you in the mood for?”

Patrick thrust against the inadequate friction David was giving him. “Can I fuck you?”

David squinted an eye closed. “Don’t think I can do that right now, not with the way I’ve been eating today.”

That was fair; Patrick didn’t think he’d be able to bottom at the moment either, now that he thought about it. “Or you could suck my cock?”

“Mm, yes, I can do that,” David said, already sliding down the bed and positioning himself between Patrick’s legs like he didn’t want to lose this momentum, this sloppy, slightly drunken desperation.

The first flutter of David’s tongue against him had Patrick throwing his head back and groaning. But then it quickly became clear that David was in the mood to tease, to savor him, licking him from base to tip with swipes of his tongue like his dick was some kind of obscene ice cream treat, and then only taking him inside his mouth with the gentlest of pressure, not giving him enough suction to get anywhere close to coming. Patrick’s fist clenching in David’s hair only made David chuckle in the back of his throat, like Patrick’s impatience was exactly the goal.

David pulled off, replacing his mouth with his slowly jacking fist. “If you’d let me pack the way I wanted to, I’d have you tied up by now so that I could really take my time with you.”

“I wasn’t going to haul an entire suitcase full of sex toys through customs for a one week vacation,” Patrick said, his hips rising in time with David’s hand. “I wasn’t that interested in giving U.S. airport security a thrill.”

“Your loss,” David said, turning and sucking a bruise into the skin of Patrick’s inner thigh.

When his thighs were mottled with hickeys and David was still only giving him incomplete friction with his hand, Patrick surged up from the bed, flipping their positions. “Your turn to be tortured for a little while,” Patrick said, biting David’s lower lip hard enough to make him grunt.

He worked his way over David’s chest, nosing through his chest hair, pausing to suck hard on one of his nipples, scraping his teeth against the skin stretched over the side of his ribs, then further down to position himself between David’s thighs. He tried to hold out, tried to stretch out the time before he took David’s cock in his mouth, but he felt too hungry for it to wait long. The saltiness, the weight of it on his tongue, made Patrick moan. He still could remember the first time he did this, that night at Stevie’s, and how that final tiny doubt that maybe he wasn’t actually gay, maybe it was just some spell that David Rose had woven, evaporated in the face of how much he loved sucking cock. How he powered through that first blowjob fueled by determination and desire, a puzzle piece of his sexuality slotting into place.

Now he knew David’s responses so intimately, he could play him like an instrument. If Patrick wanted David to come in under two minutes, he could usually manage it. Or he could edge him over and over until David was clutching fistfuls of the sheets and begging, voice hoarse with desperation. Tonight he wanted to tease him, to pay him back for the bruises he could feel now on the inside of his own thighs, but his arousal was pushing him to suck harder, to take David deeper, the tip of his cock brushing along Patrick’s soft palate as he drew him in over and over, matching his rhythm to the shallow thrusts of David’s hips.

“Fuck, I love your mouth,” David gasped. “God, Patrick…” and then he was coming, Patrick letting it pool on the back of his tongue as he soothed David down, slowing and finally pulling off when David relaxed. Patrick swallowed as he wiped saliva from his chin.

“Come up here,” David whispered, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “Let me finish you off. Fuck my mouth.”

Even in the midst of his intense arousal, Patrick was tempted to joke that David was just offering that so that he didn’t have to move, but he elected to hold that comment in as he shuffled up the bed. David put an extra pillow under his head and then grabbed hold of Patrick’s hips, opening his mouth and letting Patrick push his cock inside.

Usually Patrick could grab hold of the strong metal bars of their bed when he did this, but in this hotel he only had the faux headboard that was affixed to the wall. He braced one arm against the wall and reached down to thread his fingers through David’s hair with the other, holding him gently in place as he fucked into his mouth.

“God, that’s hot, David. I love the way you take me,” he gritted out, trying to resist the urge to lose too much control, to thrust too deeply even though he knew David could tap out if he needed. Still, it was an overwhelming visual, the sight of his erection sliding into David’s mouth, and it didn’t take long for Patrick to tip over the edge, crying out as he came, fist clenching in his husband’s hair.

He collapsed at David’s side as David exhaled a long breath, ending on a giggle. “How is the sex between us even better now than it was three years ago?”

Patrick wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical, but he thought about the answer anyway. While he thought about a serious answer, he gave a non-serious one. “It’s the hotel turning you on so much.”

David smiled. “It’s not, though,” he said softly, signaling his desire to have a sincere conversation.

Patrick rolled toward David and settled a hand on his chest, feeling for the thump of his heart. “Because we know each others’ bodies so well,” he said.

“Mmm. By that logic, when we’re in our eighties, our orgasms will be visible from space.”

“Visible?” Patrick asked, laughing.

“You know what I mean.”

Leaving that aside, Patrick said, “Well, by then I imagine that our aging bodies will have something to say about the sex being all that amazing.”

“Impossible. We’re immortal.”

Patrick lifted his head and pressed a kiss to David’s cheek, and then to his lips. “We’re not.” He knew it wasn’t what David wanted to hear, that he was killing the post-coital mood by saying it, but for some reason he couldn’t stop himself. “If we stay together for our entire lives then there will be messy physical stuff. There’ll be… one or both of our dicks will stop working—“

“Okay, that’s not going to happen.”

“It might happen at some point.”

“You can just feel free to smother me with a pillow if that happens to me,” David said.

“But David, if I murder you, I can’t be the beneficiary of your life insurance,” Patrick replied with a smirk.

“Mmkay.”

“I’ll love you even then, you know,” Patrick said. “When we’re old and wrinkled and have unreliable dicks.”

“That’s very sweet, but can we get back to talking about how great the sex is now?” David whined.

Patrick kissed him again. “The sex is excellent.”

David gave him a warm smile, one of those smiles that filled up his whole face and radiated out of his eyes. “It’s nice seeing you so happy.”

Something about the way David said it gave Patrick pause. He pulled back, putting a little bit of space between them. “You say that like it’s a rare thing.”

He could see a spark of worry in David’s eyes. “No, not rare. You’ve been… exhausted a lot this year, and… and I think this vacation came at a good time, that’s all. I’m glad you’re enjoying the city.”

“I am enjoying it,” Patrick said, but his brain was focusing on the first part, the part about how he’d been exhausted. How David had noticed. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want his mental state to be a burden to his husband, or to make him feel like he was in any way lacking. “I’ve been fine.”

“Okay.” David leaned up and kissed him gently. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Patrick shifted over onto his own pillow, watching as David rolled to face the opposite wall, scrunching his pillow under his head. Sometimes Patrick took it as an invitation to be the big spoon, but tonight he turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

He just wasn’t getting as much enjoyment out of things these days, that was all. And that was to be expected, wasn’t it? They’d been running the store for close to four years, so of course the day-to-day tasks had gotten dull. At the same time, the stress of deciding whether it was the right time to open a second location was wearing on him, because no matter how much planning and calculating he did, ultimately it was a gamble. And Patrick wasn’t a gambler.

Meanwhile, the novelty of being a homeowner was wearing off a bit, and he’d found himself focusing on the downsides of it lately more than the upsides. Rather than spending his early mornings in their warm kitchen, looking out onto the back yard and feeling content, he was struggling to wake up when his alarm went off, brushing his teeth and noticing the water-stained vanity for the hundredth time, feeling inadequate because he hadn’t figured out how to fit replacing it into their budget when the Rose Apothecary expansion was looming.

But the truth was, even with all of that, sometimes he did feel happy. He’d been happy while he was planning for this trip to New York with the Roses, looking forward to seeing David with his family again and excited to see what the city was actually like with his own eyes. At times like that, it felt like depression was just in his imagination. It felt like maybe he hadn’t been depressed at all, or that he had been in the winter, but that he was over it now. But at the same time he could feel it lurking in the back of his mind, waiting for a weak moment. Telling him he was a bad son, or a bad husband, or a bad business partner. Telling him that he didn’t deserve David’s love, not when he couldn’t bring himself to get started on fixing up the bathroom.

Patrick lay awake for a long time, listening to David’s sleep-breathing, before finally falling into uneasy slumber himself for a few scant hours before waking with the early morning sun.

While David continued to sleep, Patrick pulled on some underwear and a t-shirt and shifted the curtains aside enough to look out. The view of Central Park from their room was breathtaking, and he paused to wonder how much the Roses had paid for rooms with that view. Unplugging his phone from the nightstand, he went back to the window and took a picture through the glass.

He looked from the window over to David, tousled black hair against acres of white bedding, bare shoulders on display. Patrick took a picture of that too.

After brushing his teeth and taking a shower, Patrick got back into bed to read until a more reasonable hour to wake David up. The rest of the morning passed with a leisurely breakfast and an Uber ride downtown to the Whitney Museum, which David had been talking about visiting for months. It had the added benefit of being close to Alexis’ apartment in Chelsea; they were planning to meet her later in the afternoon.

Patrick soon learned that he and David had different approaches to art museums. Patrick liked to read the placards about each painting, circling each room methodically as he went from painting to painting. David liked to take it all in for a while from the middle of the room before deciding which paintings to approach for a closer inspection, stepping forward and back as he looked for the best viewing distance. His failure to study the text about each painting didn’t mean he didn’t know things about them, Patrick quickly discovered.

“I love this one,” Patrick said as David approached from behind him.

“Mm, I knew you’d be a Hopper fan. What do you like about it?”

Patrick studied the sewing woman’s shoulders, the way her dress bunched, the prominent veins in her hand. “I don’t know, I just like it.”

David was waiting for him to say more, Patrick could tell.

“She looks delicate but also, look at her back and her arm. She’s strong.” Patrick glanced at his husband. “She reminds me of Alexis.”

David pinched his lips together, which could mean he disagreed, or it could mean he agreed but didn’t like that he agreed.

Patrick squinted at the painting again. “So what’s the meaning behind it?”

David waved his hand at that dismissively. “It’s something to do with the post-World War I isolation of the early 1920s, I seem to recall. But it means whatever you want it to mean.”

In the next room, Patrick gravitated toward a couple of strikingly colorful oil paintings of factories, criss-crossed with lines that carved out contrasting geometric shapes on the canvas. As he was reading the name of the artist, David joined him.

“Charles Demuth was gay, you know,” David said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm hmm. He started out doing watercolors of flowers and men in Turkish baths in the nineteen-teens and twenties. Then he switched to painting…” He gestured unhappily at the works Patrick had been admiring. “This.”

“You don’t like these,” Patrick said, although the answer was obvious.

“There’s a theory that he was attempting to shrug off the stigma of being an effeminate man with these Lancaster oil paintings. Also, the art world didn’t take his watercolors that seriously,” David said, twisting up his face like he smelled something bad, and… right. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why David wouldn’t like these paintings.

Patrick nodded, and stepped over to put his arm around David. “Do they have any of the Turkish bath paintings here?”

“Sadly, no,” David said with a smirk, still gazing at the oil paintings. “There’s also a theory that all those smoke stacks are just dicks.”

Patrick barked out a laugh.

Leaving the museum, they went to a nearby café to wait for Alexis. They sat at one of the outdoor tables, a wrought-iron railing topped with pots of white and purple flowers separated them from the foot traffic on the sidewalk. While they waited and David munched on a pastry, Patrick texted the picture he’d taken of Central Park from the hotel room to his parents, telling them that they were enjoying the trip. Then he texted a couple of the photos he’d taken of paintings in the Whitney to his cousin Justin. Justin usually didn’t respond to Patrick’s texts, but occasionally he did.

Justin 🌈: You should have gone to nyc in june for pride

Patrick realized that was a topic he’d never talked to David about. “Were you ever here for the Pride parade?” he asked.

David looked up from his book, eyebrows high on his forehead. “Sure, lots of times. I mean, I wasn’t down in the streets with the heaving mass of humanity, but I could usually get an invite to a party along the parade route, back in those days.”

Grinning, Patrick repeated, “Heaving mass of humanity?”

David scoffed. “You know how I feel about crowds.”

Patrick turned back to his phone. David doesn’t like crowds, he typed. I did learn today about a gay artist who painted a bunch of smoke stacks either to seem less gay or possibly to be super gay. Jury’s out on which.

Lol, Justin responded.

Patrick smiled at the fact that he’d achieved a successful interaction with his cousin.

“David Rose?” a voice called out, and Patrick looked up to see who was speaking. He got a quick impression of an attractive woman with a stylish haircut and clothes before he looked toward David to gauge his reaction to the approaching woman. As he watched, David put on a simpering smile, the one he used with difficult customers, and held out his hand.

“Eloise,” he said flatly. “What a surprise.”

“David, how dare you not tell me that you were going to be in town?” she said, ignoring the offered handshake and sitting down at their table without invitation. “Oh my god, how are you.” She phrased it as a statement, and Patrick doubted if she cared how David was.

“I’m very good — in town for a few days to visit Alexis.” Patrick felt David’s hand settle on his shoulder, scratching absently. “This is my husband, Patrick. Patrick, this is Eloise; she’s an old friend.”

Eloise’s eyes widened as she took Patrick in. “Hi, nice you meet you,” Patrick said.

“I feel like maybe I heard that you got married? And I didn’t believe it. David Rose wouldn’t get married, I said. No way.”

David’s eyes narrowed. “Well, I did. Two years ago.”

“But you’re not living in the city? Surely you’re not still in… where was it? Somewhere in Canada?”

Here it was, the thing that still nagged at Patrick every time David expressed displeasure with Schitt’s Creek. Every time he acted disgruntled about the lack of restaurant options, or grimaced at Jocelyn’s opinions at a social gathering. Because the reason they were ‘somewhere in Canada’ was that was what Patrick had wanted.

“Our store is in Canada, yes, so that’s where we are,” David said, and to his credit he didn’t look the least bit ashamed of that fact. His fingers continued to move over Patrick’s shoulder. “Patrick and I own a lovely cottage on quite a large plot of land out there for a fraction of the cost of a one bedroom apartment here. We love it.”

“But the culture, David. How do you live without the culture?” Eloise asked.

David smirked. “How much culture did we really take in back in the old days, Eloise? The VIP section at the hottest club of the season isn’t exactly the Guggenheim. Besides, we get back here to visit Alexis regularly.” Regularly meaning once in two years, Patrick thought, although they did intend to visit more often in the future, now that there was more money coming in from their online sales.

Eloise immediately started talking about herself, about parties she’d been to or people she’d seen. Patrick tuned her out — she hadn’t shown any interest in him and the feeling was mutual. He watched people passing by on the street, walking dogs or going quickly to jobs or moving slowly and hesitantly like tourists. Eloise quickly seemed to run out of steam, maybe because David wasn’t hanging as desperately on her every word as she wanted, and she stood from the table.

“I’ve gotta run, David, but how much longer are you in New York? We really have to catch up.”

“Absolutely,” David said, standing with her. “I’ll text you.”

They kissed in the vicinity of each other’s cheeks and Eloise loped away, her attention mostly on her phone.

David dropped back into his seat with a puff of air.

“Nice lady,” Patrick muttered.

“She’s a monster,” David said. “I’m not texting her.”

“Uh huh, I cracked that code.”

David laughed softly. “Wow, she was boring.”

“Probably not as boring as your husband, to be fair.”

That made David’s eyes flash. “You aren’t boring.”

Patrick chuckled, fiddling with a spoon on the table. “Yeah, I’m super interesting. Is it my knowledge of tax law or my books about baseball that do it for you?”

David looked a little bit hurt at that. “Everything about you does it for me,” he said seriously.

Alexis arrived at that point, interrupting them, and Patrick rose from his seat to accept her cheek kisses. David excused himself to the restroom.

Watching him go, Alexis said, “Is he okay?”

“Oh, some old acquaintance of his was just here.” He frowned; that wasn’t what had bothered David. “Actually, I think it’s me that’s been making him anxious.”

“Well, don’t do that, Patrick,” she said with a frustrated groan and a birdlike bob of her head. “Surely you know how to manage David’s anxiety by now.”

“No, I do, but…” What should he say? That he couldn’t exactly be the guardian of David’s emotions when he was struggling with his own? That he swore once, standing with David for the first time in front of their house, to make David happy, and that now he was doubting his ability to do so?

“Anyway, did you guys have fun today?” Alexis asked, unaware of his inner turmoil.

“Yeah,” he said, because he had. “David could have been an art museum tour guide in another life.”

Alexis nodded. “Because he talks too much and thinks too highly of his opinions?”

“I was going to say because he knows a lot about art, but sure, that too.”

“Well, I hope you didn’t wear yourselves out, because Mom and Dad have plans tonight and so we are going to go out and party like the young and vital people that we are.”

Patrick felt exhausted at the prospect of such an outing. “I mean, some of us are getting close to forty; I don’t know if young—”

Alexis flapped her hands. “Ugh, just David. You and I are young still.”

Laughing, Patrick consciously relaxed his shoulders. He could go with Alexis’s flow, surely. He was on vacation, after all.

Which was how he found himself a few hours later, a tiny bit drunk and grinding against David on the dance floor of a gay bar that Alexis had dragged them to. It was ridiculous and they were maybe too old for this and yet he loved it, loved getting to have this experience that he’d been robbed of by not figuring himself out sooner. Loved being sweaty and a little dizzy and watching a man with criminally nice arms dancing just over David’s left shoulder while David grinned at him.

“I love you,” Patrick shouted over the loud beat, euphoria swelling out from the bubble around him and David to encompass the other people on the dance floor and the DJ and Patrick’s sister-in-law, who appeared to be flirting with the woman tending bar.

David squeezed his ass in answer. “I’m glad you’re having fun,” he said against Patrick’s ear.

“I am,” Patrick said honestly. At a time like this, unhappiness seemed impossible.

(Chapter 4)