#and they think i don’t see the little glances during their reunion

[carrionsflower]

starting S5 to see finan and eadith AREN’T together:

[holylulusworld]

Not alone any longer

Summary: You try to believe in your blooming friendship with Clark.

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, loner reader, introvert reader, flirty Clark, low self-esteem, fluff, Lois bashing, Lois is the worst, destruction of a car

Catch up here: Alone again - Naturally

“Clark, you came,” you gasp as Clark stands in front of your home. He’s got a bouquet of daisies in his hands, offering them to you. “I mean, you’re early.”

“We have a date,” he half-laughs. “You remember we wanted to go on a date.” Clark nervously looks at you. “Did you change your mind?”

“No!” You hastily say. “I didn’t change my mind. It’s just…uh… I didn’t know what to wear.” You drop your gaze. “It’s been a while since someone asked me out. I didn’t know where we were going and tried on so many outfits that I forgot about the time.”

Clark flashes you a soft smile. He seems almost shy when you take the flowers out of his hand, and invite him in.

While you look for a vase, Clark looks around your small apartment. It’s nice, cozy and inviting. You’ve got fluffy pillows on our couch, and lots of plushies keeping you company while you try to write.

“I read one of your articles. Uh-the one about the missing cat, and how the owner did everything to find them. It was heartwarming how you described their reunion.”

You awkwardly look down at your shoes. Embarrassed about your meaningless article, you sigh deeply. “You shouldn’t have read that crap. No one does read it.”

“I liked it very much, Y/N,” Clark softly says your name, making you feel warm. You can see the honesty in his eyes when you finally look at him. “You’ve got talent, Blossom. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

You shrug. “I’ll never win a Pulitzer Prize, or be as famous as Lois,” you sniffle. “She’s a star, and I’m the dirt under her shoes. Let’s be honest. Out of all the people I know, I’m the loser among them.”

“Y/N, that’s not true!”

You raise your hand and shake your head. “It’s okay, Clark. Why do you think none of my so-called friends stayed in touch?” You wipe your eyes. “Lois only invites me to rub her success and fame in my face. She didn’t even recognize that I left the party. If not for you, I’d be dead, and she wouldn’t even care. No one does.”

“I care,” Clark steps closer to grab your hand. “Not only because I saved you, Y/N. Before, during the party, you caught my eye. You looked as lost as I felt. I sometimes don’t know why I live here, among people who’ll never understand the burden of my powers and origin.”

“Oh, Clark.” You suddenly wrap your arms around him to comfort Clark. The strongest and bravest person you ever met. Running your hands up and down his back, you murmur his name. “I babble about my unimportant life and ignore that you must be struggling too. Hiding your true nature must be exhausting.”

He smiles and wraps his arms around you. Clark holds you close to his warm chest, feeling his heart beat a little faster. He hasn’t felt a connection with a person for a long time.

“It’s easier now that I got someone important in my life,” he whispers against you. Clark buries his face in your neck and sighs.

“Oh, who’s that? Did you meet someone nice?” You innocently ask, dipping your head to look up at Clark. “I hope they are nice.”

“Blossom, I meant you,” he smiles and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You know about my secret for weeks, and didn’t try to take advantage of it.”

“Why would I? You’re a hero, and it’s an honor to know about your secret identity,” you shyly glance up at Clark. “Even though, flying still scares me.”

“I promise to fly carefully with you in my arms.” He smiles when you shy away. You didn’t think Clark wanted to see again, let alone, fly with you again. “I’ll not drop you.”

You giggle when he tells you. “What if you sneeze, and I slip out of your hands? I’ll end up as a pancake on the ground.”

Something flashes in his eyes. Not the red you saw in pictures or videos on the news. No. Worry, fear even. “I never get sick.”

“You never get sick?” You wonder aloud. “Oh, that’s good. I think. I mean, you’re from another world. Makes sense that our diseases can’t harm you.”

“Sometimes I wish that I was a normal guy, with normal problems and a normal life. No one would believe that Superman lies awake at night, dreaming of losing his powers.”

“You do?” you whimper. “I didn’t know you were lonely and sad too.” You hide your face in his chest. “But we are friends now. So, you’re not alone anymore.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “We are friends now…”

“Lois, what’s wrong?” You gasp watching your friend storm into your home. She huffs and throws her locks back while brushing past you. Lois looks around your living room, sneering as her eyes land on the daises Clark got for you.

“You know exactly what’s wrong,” she twirls around to glare at you. “Your life must be extremely shitty if you must go out with my boyfriend!”

“Your boyfriend?” You frown deeply. “I thought you’re single. And I don’t know who you are talking about.”

“Clark Kent!” She spats. “You had to date my boyfriend, didn’t you? Just you know, he only feels sorry for you. Pathetic little Y/N, always so lonely and sad, standing in the corner to lure sweet Clark in.”

“He’s not your boyfriend,” you’re getting angry. “You broke up with him over a year ago. And, when he talked to me, I didn’t even know he was your ex. What Clark and I do is none of your business. We are friends and like spending time together!”

Lois wrinkles her nose at the word friends. “Does he know you’re a frigid, emotionally disabled and whiny little bitch? I guess not.”

She raises her hand to slap your face. You flinch and prepare for the impact when something outside your window explodes. Dropping to the ground, you press your hands to your ear as Lois screams in terror. She needs a moment before running toward your balcony.

Ever the investigative journalist, she steps onto your balcony to look down at the sidewalk to see her car got destroyed. It seems like it got cut into two halves. “No, what…” She shakes her head. Lois knows there’s only one person in this world able to cut her car into two halves within the blink of his eyes. “Why would he do this?”

Superman floats high above the sky, unseen. Watching Lois yell at you, he got angry. Even more, when she raised her hand against you, he couldn’t hurt her, so he did the next best thing. Clark sent a warning to her.

“You destroyed her car,” you glance down at the people in the streets. They look like ants as you float above the city. “Why?”

“She wanted to hurt you,” Clark holds you safe in his arms as you cling to him. You’re still scared of flying around with him, but he asked you to come with him so sweetly, you couldn’t deny him. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I got so mad and… I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

“I’d smashed her car too if I had any powers,” you give him a cracked smile. “She was vile and mean without a reason. Lois only got mad because we are friends now. She is like a kid wanting her toy back after she threw it away.”

“I’m a toy?” He looks at you in his arms.

“No…that’s not…” you sigh. “I didn’t mean it that way. She’s just…”

“I know, Blossom.” Clark presses his lips to your forehead. “What she said was mean. I couldn’t let her hurt you even more.”

“She’s not wrong,” you sniff. “I’m not good with dates and such. Men usually run for the hills after one date because I get nervous and anxious easily.”

“Y/N, I like you the way you are,” he whispers. Clark dips his head to press a soft kiss on your lips—a short and sweet one to test the waters. You giggle as your cheeks heat up. “I like you a lot, Blossom.”

“I like you a lot too, Clarkie,” you smile at Clark, feeling your heart flutter. “Can you…” You giggle, “Kiss me again?”

You don’t have to ask twice. Clark kisses you again, soft and sweet, while you float about the city. You forget about Lois and the rest of the world. It’s just you and Clark, and that is enough…

Part 3 - FIN

Tags in reblog.

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 5) - Never Have I Ever, Darling

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: what started out as a brilliant anon prompt turned into a potential minishot turned into this bonus chapter. Have at it, darlings.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Set after part nine. Some of our beloved cast members (Phia, Tom, Liv, Emma, Harry, Bethany, Fabs, Matty, Ewan, and the reader) are in different cities so they decide to have a mini online reunion. And - you guessed it - chaos ensues.

Ewan leans back in his chair, watching the grid of faces on his screen. The reunion call had been predictably chaotic from the start, and now, with everyone several drinks deep, things are getting even more unruly.

“Okay, I’m bored of all your faces now,” Tom groans, leaning back in his chair in mock annoyance. “How about we play a little game?”

You roll your eyes at Tom’s theatrics, but your lips twitch up. “Yeah, why not? I can’t say I enjoy seeing your giant mug either.” This only prompts Tom to shoot back with, “What, this mug?” He then shoves his face into the camera until his nose fills the screen. 

Ewan’s smile widens as he watches you lean in to match Tom’s energy, scrunching your nose at the camera. His heart gives an involuntary lurch. He misses you, and all your sharp and witty retorts. You can make him laugh without even trying. His mind flashes to what you used to have together, and it stings more than he cared to admit.

But then his eyes dart to the tiny square beside yours – Matt. His smile is effectively dampened. 

Phia cuts in, her eyes glinting with mischief. “We were thinking... Never Have I Ever? So you have to say whether or not you've done a thing. If you have, take a drink. And elaborate if you want.”

She winks at someone – or maybe a few someones – definitely not Ewan. He frowns. Something’s going on here. 

“Oh, I don’t do that,” Harry jokes. “I’m too young and innocent to drink!”

Emma beams at him, “That’s my good boy.”

Without missing a beat, Tom slides in, smirking, “Do I lose cool points if I also want Emma to call me their good boy?” 

“When have you ever been cool?” Ewan deadpans, raising an eyebrow.

“Ouch,” Tom dramatically presses a hand to his chest, “You roasted me in the show, and now you roast me in real life? Cold, mate. Cold.”

Fabien chuckles, but Ewan barely registers it. His focus drifts to you, laughing at something Matt just said in the chat. His chest tightens, and he heads to the kitchen to refill his drink. It is always like this. He could never decide if he was more annoyed with Matt for being so… Matt, or with himself for letting it get to him. But how can it not?

When everyone is settled back in their seats, respective alcoholic beverages in hand, Phia announces, “Alright, drinks ready? Let’s go! I’ll start.” She pauses dramatically before delivering her line. “Never have I ever… embarrassed myself at work.”

Ewan freezes, already knowing he’s about to be dragged into this. Your eyes flicker toward him, an amused smile tugging at your lips.

“Oh, I know who! Mr. Ewan Mitchell please take the stage,” Tom prompts, his voice ever teasing.

Matt raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer to the camera. “Yeah, mate. Let’s hear it.”

Ewan feels a pulse of irritation, but he forces a casual grin, raising his glass. “Fine. Fine. There was this one time… during an interview… where I got... distracted.”

You raise an eyebrow, grinning wickedly as you catch his glance. “By what? A hard question?”

Ewan chuckles darkly, his gaze locked on you. “Nope. By a certain someone.”

The rest of the group catches on instantly, erupting in loud whoops and laughter. You laugh too, shaking your head, but the faint blush creeping up your neck doesn’t go unnoticed by Ewan.

“Ohhh, I remember,” Liv howls, her wine sloshing in her glass. “You'd go beet red! We even had a drinking game dedicated to those.”

"What?" Ewan asks, clearly confused.

"Nothing," Liv quickly mutters, but then she and Phia have to stifle their giggles.

You lean back in your chair, shaking your head. “By the way, I wasn’t distracting! I was just being professional.”

“Sure, love,” Matt chimes in, throwing a smirk your way. “You’ve always been very… professional.”

Ewan’s smile fades slightly as he watches the exchange. He tries to laugh it off, but there’s a knot forming in his chest that refuses to loosen.

Tom jumps in to keep the energy up. “Next one! Never have I ever... pretended to know something just to impress someone I liked.”

Matt and Ewan both freeze for a second. Tom’s eyes light up, knowing he’s hit something. Everyone else watches intently, waiting for one of them to crack.

Phia laughs, clearly enjoying the tension. “Oh, come on, boys. One of you’s gotta drink to this.”

Matt is the first to cave, lifting his glass with a sheepish grin. “Alright, guilty as charged.”

“Oh? And what was it?” Ewan asks, leaning forward, his tone sharper than he intended.

Matt shrugs, eyes flicking to you briefly. “Indie film. Thought I could impress someone by pretending I’d seen it. No idea what it was about.”

You snicker, rolling your eyes. “Points for trying, Smithy.”

“Cheers to trying too hard, I guess,” Ewan icily mutters.

Matt doesn’t respond immediately, but his jaw tightens as he drinks. 

Phia, loving the growing tension, grins wickedly as she leans toward the screen. “Alright, alright. This one might be for the silly boys. Never have I ever... gotten flustered because of someone I’m attracted to on set.”

Ewan’s heart jumps into his throat, and he catches your eye. The group goes silent for a split second before exploding in laughter.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Tom says, rubbing his hands together in delight.

Ewan feels his face heating up, the alcohol loosening his control over his reactions. He tries to play it off, taking a deliberate sip of his drink, but he knows everyone’s watching him. Matt, unsurprisingly, is doing the same.

“Wait – both of you?” Emma teases, eyes darting between Ewan and Matt. “This is getting interesting.”

Bethany chuckles. “What’s this? A love triangle brewing? Well, I already know which side I’m on!”

Ewan can feel the weight of the question hanging in the air, even though it’s masked in humour. His heart pounds, but he keeps his face neutral. The laughter from the screen feels distant, his focus narrowing on you as you nervously sipped your drink.

Before anyone can linger on the moment too long, Tom jumps in with another devilish idea. “Next one: Never have I ever... met my celebrity crush.”

You sigh dramatically, lifting your glass. “Alright. Fine. I have.”

Matt’s smirk widens. “And who would that be?” 

You pause for a moment, glancing at Ewan briefly before you say, “Matt was my celebrity crush during his Doctor Who days.”

The group erupts into chaos – clapping, whistling, teasing jabs flying from every direction. Tom is practically falling out of his chair with laughter, clapping loudly. “Oh, that is brilliant! Drink up!”

Matt raises his glass, clearly enjoying the attention. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised.”

Ewan forces a smile, the jealousy burning under his skin. Just when he thinks it might cool down, Liv drops another bomb. “Alright, here’s a cheeky one. Never have I ever... had naughty public sex.”

The group’s reactions ranged from laughter to playful groans, but Ewan’s focus was solely on you. Your eyes went wide, and you quickly glanced at him, clearly panicking.

His phone buzzes on the table, while the rest of the group is busy answering – and attempting to avoid – the question. He looks down and sees a message from you.

My Darling: Don’t answer that.

- Why not?

My Darling: They’ll figure it out

- My love, hate to break it to you but I wasn’t celibate before we met

My Darling: You know how they think

-  It’s not a big deal.

My Darling: Come on. Please?

-  Say the magic word

My Darling: I just did.

- No you didn’t

My Darling: PLEASE don’t answer that.

- Not what I’m looking for

My Darling: Oh for fuck’s sake.

- What do you call me?

My Darling: Don’t answer, Mitchell.

- Nope

My Darling: Ugh. Ok.

My Darling: Baby, don’t answer that. I implore you. Baby, oh baby. 

Ewan can’t help but giggle to himself at your barely veiled sarcasm, just bleeding off the text message. His silly girl.

- And we have a winner!

My Darling: I hate u.

- Enough to fuck my brains out in a semi-public place

My Darling: Shut up, Mitchell.

- You love me

You glance up from your phone, eyes meeting Ewan’s on the screen. He’s grinning like the cat who got the cream, clearly loving watching you squirm. He leans back in his chair, keeping his glass lowered. “You know, I think I’m going to plead the fifth on this one.”

Tom and Fabien erupt into loud boos, but the rest of the group is laughing, already tipsy and entertained by the spectacle. Ewan feels a rush of satisfaction watching you blush even harder.

“Oh, come on!” Tom scoffs, clearly annoyed. “You can’t plead the fifth. This is a mostly British group call.”

“I’m in LA,” Ewan shoots back with a grin. “I’m allowed.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Harry interrupts, his eyes wide with confusion. “I’m sorry, what does ‘pleading the fifth’ mean?”

Emma responds, “I think that means you can choose not to answer.”

“What?” Harry practically yells, and nearly slides off the edge of his seat, making everyone laugh. “So I could have been using that all this time?”

“It’s an American thing, mate,” Bethany clarifies, trying to stifle her laughter.

“But Ewan’s doing it!” Harry protests. 

“I’m in LA so…” Ewan shrugs nonchalantly, a smug grin spreading across his face. 

“Ewan has a point,” you chime in, coming to his aid – and yours. “Just let the guy plead the fifth.”

Phia then points to you, mischief in her eyes. “Alright, babe, your turn. No pleading the fifth. You’re not in LA.”

“What?” you freeze. In your efforts not to get Ewan to answer, you forgot you had to avoid the same problem. Ewan just stares at your flustered image on the screen, mouth parted in disbelief. You think for a moment, then blurt out, “But I… also plead the fifth!”

“You’re not in the US!” Tom declares. “Nope, not gonna happen.”

“Come on,” you retort, scrambling for an excuse. “I could be in the US right now, how do you know?”

“Love,” Matt smirks, “I just saw you yesterday.”

“No, you didn’t,” you say immediately. “That was my twin sister.”

“Then she’s every bit as gorgeous as you are,” Matt quips, relishing the moment.

“Alright, you two,” Phia says, feeling the need to intervene for Ewan’s sake. “Okay, babe, no more dodging. You have to follow the rules.”

“I… I… oh for fuck’s sake,” you sigh in defeat. “Yes.”

The group erupts into drunken cheers, the noise practically deafening through Ewan’s speakers. He watches you laugh, clearly embarrassed, but enjoying the chaos.

Then, just as the cheers start to die down, Ewan raises his glass with a smug grin. “You know what? I changed my mind. I’ll answer too. Yes.”

The group explodes again –  Fabien banging on his desk, Tom howling with laughter, and Liv nearly spilling her wine in delight. Meanwhile, Ewan’s eyes remain locked on yours, the tension between you undeniable.

Fabien, already catching on, cheers loudly. “Yes, mate!”

You cover your face with both hands, utterly speechless. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, trying to process the turn of events.

“Oh,” Emma starts, then repeats with more gusto, “OH! So you two…”

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Some notes in the margins...

A little something mainly for the Ewan girlies... 😉

Oh, and Liv hinted at a past bonus chapter if you can catch it ~

Anyhow - this was fun! At least Ewan seemed to think to so at the end there. 🥃🍷🥂

[dirtyvulture]

MILF!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!CEO!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by anon: i just..i - i need a hc of beefy ceo!reader going back to her hometown after years of being away to visit her family (and Nat). And at dinner tiny mil!Nat just turn the big bad ceo!r into a stuttering and shy mess. Later that night Natasha is laying in bed and touching herself htinking about how R's muscle and body felt under her hands, and R spots her through the window and eventually make her way over and fucks Natasha. With a hint of powerbottom!nat and a shameful amount of dirty talk. All love to you mate.

AN: This has nothing to do with Valentine’s day, but it’s been in my drafts for a while so it’s time for it to see the light of day. Enjoy, my sinners. See you all soon. ❤️

You knock on the door twice, stepping back and bouncing the tray of cookies in your arms nervously. It had been years since you had seen your parents, and while you talked to them almost every week, you knew it was a big deal to see them in person.

Work had kept you away longer than you would have liked--but a promotion to CEO was not something you took lightly. However, once you settled into your role, you decided to take some time off and visit home.

The door suddenly opens, and your mom bursts out, jumping into your arms and you almost drop the cookies. After a few minutes of tearful hugging, your mom drags you into the house to greet your dad.

Your blissful family reunion is interrupted when you hear a familiar voice, and you look up and see Natasha Romanoff standing in the kitchen, wearing a skimpy black dress that normally you wouldn’t have allowed given that your mother was in the same room, but since it’s your first time seeing her in years too, you give her a pass.

Her curves are fuller, and she’s covered the wrinkles on her face with a heavy layer of makeup, but you think she looks even more beautiful than she was before.

“What...What are you doing here?” you ask, pushing away from your parents to approach her in the kitchen.

“Your mom invited me,” Natasha says with a shrug. “She said she didn’t feel comfortable with me being alone during the holidays.”

“Alone?” The last you had heard, she had married some wannabe actor from a popular comedy show and had a child with him. 

“Yeah.” Natasha subtly shows off her left hand, which is now absent of a wedding ring.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” you say.

“Don’t be.” She waves you off. You don’t miss her glance over your body and bite her lip in appreciation. With your promotion, you had less time to focus on yourself, but you still always made an effort to eat healthy and workout when you could. While you felt the results could be better, you were happy and judging from the way Natasha nodded her head as she looked away from you, she was happy too.

You help Natasha finish prepping dinner in the kitchen. You don’t miss the way she rubs her front against your back, just trying to "squeeze by” with the honey baked ham, and then her arm is almost pressed against yours when you stand side-by-side to chop the vegetables for the appetizer platter.

At the dinner table, Natasha fills your plate with a little bit of everything. You think it’s sweet that she remembers the kind of appetite you have, and the food--all of it home-cooked--is absolutely delicious. Natasha is sitting next to you, and gradually her hand finds its place on your muscular thigh, squeezing it teasingly throughout the meal.

You almost choke on a slice of ham, and Natasha pats your back to help you clear your throat. You look at her, a little nervous at her boldness, but she winks and you and turns back to her plate.

After dessert, Natasha retires to the spare bedroom on the first floor. You offer her your old bedroom, but she politely declines and disappears into the bathroom to shower. Your parents head upstairs to unwind, and you’re stuck with a mountain of dishes to clean.

But the tedious work takes your mind off Natasha, at least for a little bit. The touches against you during dinner, the way she kept bringing up her loneliness from the divorce. You know she’s desperate for you, but you don’t know if it’s right to reciprocate. After all, you had just reconnected, and it seemed a little rash to go after her again after how things ended the last time.

You tie up the full trash bag and carry it outside to throw directly into the bin. The window to Natasha’s room is near the garbage bins, and it’s open just enough for you to hear her inside.

“Oh, fuck, Y/N. Yes, right there, baby. Harder. I need more of you.”

You drop the trash bag on the ground in shock, sneaking up closer to the window to peer inside.

Natasha is lying naked on the bed, her legs spread wide open with her fingers knuckle-deep into her core, pumping frantically. Her eyes are closed as she imagines replacing her fingers with your bigger ones, and how she would dig her nails into your flexing forearm while begging you to move faster. She remembers the way you would take her to bed, all passion and intensity, only needing minutes to have her squirming underneath you. And then when she would return the favor, she loved having your powerful thighs wrapped around her head or grinding on your abs until she came all over your stomach.

You’re not sure how long you stand there watching Natasha pleasure herself, but suddenly, your feet are taking you back into the house and you barge into her room. Natasha smiles at you and beckons you forward with a crook of her finger.

“Come fuck me, baby,” she says, and you’re tearing off your clothes as fast as you can leaping into bed with her. You don’t care that your parents are upstairs, and this reminds you of your high school days when you would try and sneak girls home to have sex with while your parents were down the hall. Needless to say, you were caught more than once, but this time, you’ll try to keep Natasha quiet.

You lay on top of Natasha, careful not to lower all of your weight onto her, and wrap your arms around her, kissing her and tasting her cherry lipstick. She smears it along your cheek and down your neck, lightly biting on your trapezius muscle. You shift to the side, moaning when you feel her lips wrap around one of your nipples, then biting your lip and trying to silence yourself. Natasha looks up at you, her fingers trailing down your abs, but you stop her before she can reach between your legs.

“You asked me to fuck you,” you whisper, panting as her lips pull away from your chest. “But you have to promise to be quiet.”

“How can I be quiet when you’re the one fucking me?” she says, and you feel your stomach clench at the praise.

“You’re gonna have to try or I won’t do it,” you reply, although you think it’ll take an impossible amount of willpower to resist Natasha Romanoff in bed.

“Fine, fine,” she relents. You lay next to her, slipping your hand down to her center and rubbing your finger through her wetness. You pinch her clit and she gasps, but you lean over and cover your mouth with hers.

“You promised,” you whisper, sliding your fingers into her with ease and she bucks into your hand. As you thrust into her, your thumb circles her clit, spreading her wetness everywhere between her thighs. Natasha pants into your mouth, her nails clawing at your shoulder and bicep, her hips rocking wildly.

“Fuck, fuck, no one can make me cum as fast as you,” she says.

“Not even your ex-husband?” you ask, thrusting so fast your forearm is on fire.

“He never made me cum,” she pouts, and you push your fingers into her hard enough for her to whimper.

“Then it looks like I have a lot to make up for,” you respond. Her walls start clenching around your fingers and her stomach tightens. “Go ahead, Nat. Go ahead and make a mess for me.”

She pulls down on the back of your neck to bring your shoulder close to her mouth to bite on so she doesn’t throw her head back and scream loud enough to alert your parents. Cum gushes down your hand, and you’re pretty sure you’re bleeding from where Natasha bit you. But she releases you as you pull out, kissing your skin softly and you wince. 

“Don’t leave me, baby,” Natasha murmurs against your chest.

“I made that mistake once,” you say, scooping her up in your arms and cuddling her close. “I won’t do it again.”

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[magicfootballstuff]

Dirty Little Secret - part 2 (leila ouahabi x reader)

Summary: A love story about secrets, flirty messages, football rivalries, and useless lesbians who don’t know how to communicate. And it all starts with one badly timed challenge in the Champions League.

Leila Ouahabi x Arsenal!reader

Part 2/?

Read other parts here.

———

It’s strange the way that fate sometimes works.

You’d heard whispers that England would be hosting a mini tournament during the February international window in preparation for the Euros, even heard talk that Germany could be one of the potential opponents, but you didn’t really think much of the rumours at first. 

But not even two weeks after Arsenal’s second defeat to Barcelona and your little makeout session with Leila in a deserted equipment room at the Emirates, a public announcement goes out. England will host the Arnold Clark Cup in February, playing matches against Germany, Canada, and most significantly Spain.

You’ll get to see Leila again.

She messages you with a link to the announcement almost immediately, and it’s nice to know that her first thoughts are also about a reunion with you.

Leila See you soon! Already practising my slide tackles 😜

You smile to yourself and shake your head as you type out a reply.

You I thought we agreed there were better ways to get my attention?

You’re in the Arsenal gym with the rest of the team doing some conditioning exercises before you head out onto the pitch for training. It’s hardly the ideal place to start another flirty text exchange with Leila, but you can’t deny the fact that knowing you’re on her mind is nice.

Leila Like this?

Leila has attached a picture to her message and it’s bordering on obscene. It’s just a mirror selfie but Leila is wearing only a sports bra and a pair of Barcelona shorts that she’s rolled up at the bottom to make her already long legs seem even longer. In the picture she’s sticking out her tongue and throwing a peace sign but it’s her tanned abs that catch your attention.

Sparing a quick glance around to check there’s nobody close enough in the gym to see what’s on the screen of your phone, you zoom in, practically drooling at what you see.

She’s ridiculously attractive. Suddenly you regret not taking things further the other week at the Emirates. 

But at least the announcement of the Arnold Clark Cup means you’ll get to see her again sooner than you realised.

You Yeah, that works 🥵

Leila Your turn 😉

Here in the gym, there’s absolutely no way you’ll be able to take your top off and take a tantalising picture for Leila without getting absolutely rinsed by the girls.

You I’m in the gym

You try to make your excuses but Leila’s not letting you get away with it that easily.

Leila Mmm perfect

You definitely want to give Leila something in return, something to tease her and let her know you’re appreciative of the picture she sent that’s now permanently burned onto the inside of your eyelids. You just need a way of doing it that doesn’t alert the rest of your teammates to your new flirtationship.

“I need the bathroom,” you excuse yourself, and nobody pays you much attention as you leave the gym.

Once you’re alone in the bathroom, you remove your training top and take out your phone, before you stand in front of the sink and check out your reflection in the mirror. You try to find a good angle but it just feels awkward and there isn’t really a way to make a picture in a public bathroom sexy. But you tense your abs anyway and take a few photos of your reflection, trying and probably failing to smoulder at the camera.

You scroll through the results. It’s very hard to look at the pictures with anything other than mortifying shame, but you try to be objective. The lighting is unflattering, the toilet cubicles in the background ruin the sexy vibe you want to go for, but hopefully Leila won’t pay attention to that and will just appreciate that you’ve tried.

Before you can send one of the photos, the bathroom door crashes open behind you and Leah walks in, stopping in her tracks when she sees you.

“I was just…” you stutter, scrambling for an excuse to explain why you’re topless in the bathroom when you’re supposed to be in the gym. Improvising a lie, you continue, “My back was itchy so I just thought I’d check to see if I had a rash or something. Can you see anything?”

You turn to expose your back to Leah and you can tell from the reflection of her expression in the mirror that she doesn’t quite buy your excuses, but all she says is, “Looks fine to me.”

“Cool, thanks,” you reply, tugging your turquoise training top back over your head. “See you back out there.”

With your phone in your hand, you leave the bathroom, sending Leila one of the photos you took as you go.

She replies immediately with a single emoji.

Leila 🤤

You have absolutely no idea how you’re going to survive until February.

———

What you didn’t realise is that the Spanish team is also using St George’s Park as their base camp for the tournament. 

You discover this information in the food hall on the first morning of camp. The two squads are mostly kept separate, training on different pitches and sleeping in different accommodation blocks, but some of the communal areas on campus like the cafeteria and the recreational spaces are shared. 

As you go down to breakfast with Ella, who’s staying in the room across the hall from you, half the Spanish squad is already in the dining hall. The two teams seem to have segregated themselves pretty well, the Spaniards occupying one side of the hall while the few Lionesses who are already here have taken up places at tables on the other side.

You join the back of the queue for food and Ella greets the Spanish player in front of you, her Manchester United teammate Ona Batlle, with enthusiasm.

“Hey Ona!”

“Tooney!” Ona says, as both her and one of her Spanish teammates turn around at the sound of Ella’s voice.

And who just happens to be the teammate standing with Ona?

“Hey,” Leila says, a small smile just teasing the corners of her mouth upwards when she sees you.

“Alright,” you greet her, feigning polite indifference, as if you didn’t have your tongue in her mouth and her hands feeling you up under your shirt two months ago after the game at the Emirates. As if you don’t have a couple of borderline racy pictures of her saved on the phone that suddenly feels very heavy in your pocket.

“You two know each other?” Ella asks.

“We played against each other in the Champions League,” you’re quick to explain. “You know, that competition you don’t get to play in because you play for a shit club like United.”

“Hey!” Ella protests.

You grew up about ten minutes away from Ella, a couple of years older than her but moving through similar youth pathways until your journey took you south to Arsenal. She’s a diehard United fan, while your family’s loyalty lies with the blue side of Manchester, and the rivalry is a constant source of entertainment and banter between the two of you. 

It’s also a very easy way to distract Ella from more serious topics. Such as how you know Leila.

“United are not shit,” Ella insists. “Don’t forget who knocked you out of the Conti Cup.”

“Ouch, that one’s still sore,” you say, wincing at the memory of Arsenal’s defeat to Manchester United just a few weeks ago. 

“Well just remember that next time you think about chatting shit about United.”

You pick out some breakfast food from the serving counter and follow Ella to a table where Alessia and Georgia are already sitting. As you drop into an empty seat, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your shorts and you take it out to see that Leila has sent you a message.

Leila You look cute

You glance up, looking for Leila, and realise she’s positioned herself at a table across the room where she’s got a clear line of sight at you. She’s looking at you now, teeth digging into her lower lip as she waits for your reaction.

You look back down at your phone and type out a response.

You Stop looking at me like that

Leila Why?

You’ve completely tuned out the conversation at the table around you, entirely focused on Leila across the room and her messages lighting up your phone.

You Because now I want to kiss you

You watch Leila as she reads your response, and she looks from her phone back up at you, her eyes dark and her tongue darting out to moisten her lips, before she sends her next reply.

Leila Laterrrr

You Is that a promise?

Leila doesn’t reply, but every time you look up as you eat your breakfast, she’s watching you from across the room, and that’s enough of an answer.

Later can’t come soon enough.

———

Worked up from your impromptu morning flirtation with Leila, you channel all your sexual frustration into training. By the end of the morning, you’re exhausted but in a good way, and the reward of getting congratulated on a good session from Sarina as you head in for a shower makes it all worthwhile.

After having some lunch and a brief tactics meeting led by Sarina in preparation for your first game against Canada, the rest of the afternoon is for downtime. You’re slumped in a beanbag in the recreation room, watching Georgia get thrashed by Lucy at some shooting game on the PlayStation, when a small group of Spanish girls enter and make their way to a pool table at the back of the room. Leila is among them and she makes eye contact with you for just a moment as she passes. Her expression doesn’t change, but her gaze lingers for just a fraction of a second too long for it to feel like you’re strangers.

It feels like the air in the room has shifted with Leila’s presence. You can hear the Spanish girls behind you, arguing over something in words you don’t understand as the balls of the pool table clack against each other with every shot, but you can only think of Leila. You’ve spent months dreaming of being in the same country as her, let alone the same room, and the opportunity to actually have time to spend with each other instead of a quick ten minutes in a store cupboard or a flirty exchange of messages has seemed like a luxury you would never have.

Until now.

But you can’t exactly walk over to the pool table, grab Leila by the hand, and drag her to your room upstairs in front of teammates from both sides.

Or can you?

You’re getting restless in your beanbag when footsteps come up behind you and Leila walks past again, this time alone. As she opens the door to leave the room, she lingers, looking back at you and somehow beckoning you with just the look in her eyes. She disappears before anybody else can notice, and you think your self-restraint deserves a commendation because you manage to wait a whole forty-five seconds before you haul yourself out of the beanbag and make excuses that fall on deaf ears as the other girls celebrate Lucy winning yet another round against Georgia.

You slip out of the room almost unnoticed by everybody else to find Leila hanging around outside.

“I found a place,” Leila tells you, as she starts to walk away down the hall.

You chuckle in amusement at the image of Leila sneaking around St George’s Park on a recon mission to find somewhere private for a hookup, and follow just a few paces behind her, keeping enough distance between you so that it doesn’t look like you’re together, though luckily you don’t bump into anyone along the way.

She leads you to the media area of the building, which is thankfully deserted, and eventually pushes open the door to a large room that is used for press conferences, a long table in front of a sponsorship board at the front of the room and rows of chairs set up facing it. Leila turns to look at you, an expectant smile on her face and her arms outstretched.

“This is the place you found?” you ask.

“Uh huh. Look.” Leila walks past you to the door and reaches for the lock, which she twists with a click, before turning her attention back to you. “Now it’s private.”

Locked or not, it’s still a bit of a thrill to know that you could be caught at any moment, but you’ve been thinking about Leila’s lips since you last kissed her two months ago and all the teasing today has only worked you up further. You take a few steps forward, pushing Leila back against the door she’s just locked with a little grunt, your hands coming to rest on her hips.

“And what are we going to do with all this privacy?” you ask.

“I think you know what.”

“Show me,” you instruct Leila.

All you can think as your lips move against each other and your hands tug at clothing is finally.

———

Afterwards, you redress yourselves and try to look presentable - you’d really rather you kept this from your teammates for now and you definitely don’t want to announce it to them by re-entering the recreation room with tousled hair and dishevelled clothing. You pull your top back over your head, then use the front camera of your phone to check that your hair isn’t too messed up.

You glance across at Leila, who is doing the same thing nearby, and feel a fresh wave of attraction towards her as she runs her long fingers through her dark hair.

“We should do that again sometime,” you say.

“We should,” Leila agrees, with a smile.

And you do. It’s difficult, given the fact that you’re both busy with your separate preparations for the first games of the tournament and that there’s also the challenge of sneaking away without anybody noticing, but over the next two days you manage to rendezvous with Leila no fewer than three more times. 

When you’re not with her, you spend most of your time thinking about her - the taste of her lips, the way her hands feel on your body, the look in her eyes when she smiles at you. It’s probably not a good thing to be this distracted by an opponent while at camp but thankfully nobody seems to notice that your mind is wandering, nor that you keep sneaking away to meet Leila when you get downtime.

———

The first games of the Arnold Clark Cup - England versus Canada and Germany against Spain - take place in Middlesbrough. With travel both ways, an overnight stay in a local hotel, and the games themselves, it means you go almost thirty-six hours without seeing Leila.

That’s something that shouldn’t be a problem, but is. 

It’s crazy how in just three short days, most of which have been spent with your respective teams anyway, you’ve become dependent on those secret little meetings with Leila. 

You draw against Canada, playing the last ten minutes of the game off the bench, and if you’re in a bad mood on the bus back to St George’s Park the following morning, your England teammates think it’s just because you’re disappointed with your lack of minutes. 

You let them believe that, even though you know the whole point of this tournament is rotation and that you’ll get your chance to start in another game, and sit quietly with your headphones on and your head leaning against the window. You even try to convince yourself that that’s the problem, because the other alternative is admitting to yourself that you miss a girl you’ve been hooking up with for three days.

And so what if the only thing that puts you in a good mood is a message from Leila that says ‘Want to hang out later?’ that lights up your phone when you’re about thirty minutes away from returning to camp?

At least she misses you too.

———

The day before the game against Spain, you’re asked to do the pre-match press conference with Sarina and Leah. You sit at the front of a room that has become familiar to you over the last five days, being one of the regular spots that you keep returning to when you want some alone time with Leila, only this time it’s with your captain and your coach at your side and two dozen reporters all watching intently as they ask about your preparations for the biggest test England have faced so far under the new management.

“We know that Spain has a very distinct style of football,” Leah says, answering one reporter’s question about the opposition. “In some of our recent games - the World Cup qualifiers - we’ve been used to having a lot of possession and a lot of chances. But Spain likes to have the ball, they like to pass the ball around a lot, and we need to make sure we’re patient but also clinical in taking the chances we do get.”

“You’ll both be familiar with some of your opponents tomorrow from your recent Champions League games with Arsenal, but how do you prepare for coming up against star players like Alexia Putellas?”

Leah nods for you to speak and you give your answer.

“There’s no denying that Spain has a lot of quality all over the pitch,” you say. “They’re a team full of world class players. But these are the opponents we want to be playing against as we prepare for the summer. In order to be the best we need to test ourselves against the best.”

The next question goes to Sarina, and you lean back in your chair again as you listen to her response.

———

Later, you’re back in the press conference room, the door locked and the lights off, as Leila peppers your neck with kisses while her hands wander beneath the hem of your shirt and up your sides.

“You think Spain is the best?” she murmurs against the skin of your neck, her voice a low rumble that sends a shiver of arousal throughout your entire body.

Suddenly it all makes sense. No sooner had Leila got you alone and locked the door, did she steer you towards the table at the front of the room, where she pressed you into the exact spot where you sat a couple of hours earlier to speak to the media.

“You watched my press conference?” you ask, letting out a gasp as her teeth find a sensitive spot. 

Leila confirms with a hum.

“I think Spain is one of the best,” you clarify.

Pulling back from your neck to look into your eyes, Leila smirks and asks, “Do you think I’m the best?”

As she speaks, one of her hands toys with the elastic at the bottom of your sports bra.

“At this, yes. At football, I guess we’ll see tomorrow.”

Your teasing seems to be enough to satisfy Leila, who lifts your top over your head and captures your lips in another bruising kiss.

———

The game against Spain the following day finishes goalless. It’s not the result you wanted but the overall performance was good and you know there’ll be lots that Sarina will pick apart and ask you all to learn from the game.

Having been substituted off after around sixty minutes, you push yourself off the bench when the final whistle blows and wander back out onto the pitch. 

You shake hands with a few of the Spanish players and hug your own teammates, before finally going over to Leila, who greets you with a smile and wastes no time asking, “Can I get your shirt?”

“Normally when you want me topless, you take it off yourself,” you tease her, thinking about yesterday’s encounter in the press room as you remove your white England shirt.

She removes her own and whips your leg with it in retaliation for your teasing, before you both swap shirts. It’s cold and rainy and you don’t want to walk around in just your bra so you pull Leila’s jersey on, smoothing out the red fabric.

“Maybe I’ll take it back off you later,” Leila replies, her eyes raking down your body. “You look good wearing my name.”

The look in Leila’s eyes and the slight hint of possessiveness in her voice turns you on more than you’d care to admit.

Your mind is already running at a million miles an hour, playing out fantasies that involve Leila wearing nothing but your England shirt. You briefly wonder if there’s a hidden corner in this stadium, just like the closet you found at the Emirates, where you can show Leila exactly what the vision of her in your jersey is doing to you, but you know it’s an even greater risk here than it was last time.

The fantasies will have to wait for now. 

———

England wins the Arnold Clark Cup after beating Germany and while you’re delighted to get your hands on some silverware and know that it’s a promising sign ahead of the Euros in the summer, there’s a tiny part in the back of your mind that is sad that the international break is coming to an end.

Though you don’t want to admit it, you know that’s probably because of Leila.

You return to St George’s Park for one last night with a medal around your neck. Tomorrow, you go back to London and Arsenal, while Leila will fly back to Spain. Normality will resume and you know it’s unlikely you’ll see Leila again before the Euros at the earliest, when there will be more important things on your mind than hooking up.

But if you only have one more night with Leila, you want to make the most of it. Clearly she does too, because she messages you later that night asking to meet, and you sneak out of your room and down to the communal areas to meet her.

You don’t bother to look for any real privacy, instead taking your time with each other right there in the rec room. Your teammates are all asleep in their beds and now that the tournament is officially over, you don’t really care if you get caught anyway. A twisted part of you actually wants to get caught, wants somebody else to know that at least for these short ten days, Leila has belonged to you and you to her.

But nobody interrupts.

Afterwards, you dress again but instead of returning to your separate rooms, you end up on one of the beanbags together. Your head rests against Leila’s chest, rising and falling with each slow breath she takes, and her fingers play absently with your hair.

It’s perhaps more intimate than all of the actual sex you’ve been having over the last week and a half.

“This has been fun,” you murmur, though your words feel empty compared to the weight of how significant Leila has been to your life in recent days.

“It has,” Leila agrees, pressing her lips to the top of your head.

If the situation was different, if you lived closer together, you might ask Leila out. In all honesty, you haven’t actually talked much, partly due to the language barrier and partly because you’ve just wanted to jump straight to the physical stuff in the limited time you’ve been able to spend together.

Despite that, you’ve clicked with Leila in a way that feels special and you want to get to know her better. How does she take her coffee? Is she a dog person or a cat person? Stupid things like that but also what annoys her, what makes her laugh? What are her fears and ambitions?

Maybe you’ll never know those things.

You doze together on the beanbags, never quite fully drifting off to sleep but much more content in Leila’s arms than you would be if you returned to your empty bed. It’s only when the first glimpse of dawn starts to filter into the room that you reluctantly start to get up to return to your rooms before any of the other players from either team come down. 

You don’t know how to say goodbye so you don’t, parting ways with a silent hug that lasts an eternity but still isn’t long enough. It’s a goodbye that doesn’t quite feel final, but with a huge question mark hanging over when you’ll be able to see Leila again, or even if you’ll get that chance, it does feel like the end of something.

Whatever this has been between you, for now, is over.

[goodwitchhour]

hey omg i saw you were writing for stephen nedoroscik and i need some imagines pookie!!!!

a shot of espresso •°. *࿐ stephen nedoroscik

requested: yes / no

summary: when asked about his relationship status during an interview, Stephen becomes eager to talk all about you

cw: fluff! a lil teeny tiny bit angsty at the start & I mean teeny tiny. stephen makes 2 sex jokes to reader bc it’s funny & I’m a firm believer that he makes them.

word count: 975

notes: yes I did take inspiration from andrew garfield.. what about it?! thank you guys for your requests!!! I promise I’m getting through them!!!! I love yall and as always, I’m in no way trying to disrespect Stephen or his relationship, this is purely fictional fun!!

fem!reader x stephen nedoroscik ♡

Stephen has always been a loud and proud boyfriend.

He’s never shied away from talking about you to his friends and family, gushing over how much he loves you and what a truly awesome person he thinks you are. Whether it's a casual get-together or a family reunion, his affection and admiration for you are always at the forefront.

Yet, as you lean against a plain wall in one of the many crammed rooms in the Olympic village, filled with a TV crew and cameras and boom mics, there’s a waver of confidence in you as you sit on the sidelines, watching Stephen take part in one of the many interviews of the day. You hear the interviewer ask him about his relationship status, and your heart skips a beat.

For a second, just a second, a thought crosses your mind. What if he doesn’t bring you up? What if he ignores the question or tries to change the subject? You understand that this is the brightest the spotlight has ever been on Stephen, and that he is entitled to as much privacy as he can get. But, and trying not to sound too narcissistic, he’s always loved talking about you. It's one of the things you adore about him, his unabashed pride and love for you.

So yeah, for a second, there’s a moment of doubt about whether he’ll divert into some other topic, trying to keep the conversation about the thing they’re all actually there for. Your mind races through the possible scenarios, each one a bit more anxiety-inducing than the last. But then, like how it often happens, that big smile of his that always melts your heart pops up, and he looks over at you for a second, catching your eye. His eyes twinkle with that familiar warmth and reassurance, and your worries immediately begin to dissipate.

“I’m uh, taken, actually,” he speaks, looking back to the interviewer in front of him. “I’ve been with my girlfriend for a while now.”

“Oh, how sweet!” The woman gushes, a half-genuine smile sweeping across her face. “And is she supportive of your career? I mean, I’m assuming she’s come to support you at the Olympics, right?!”

Stephen giggles lightly, which makes you smile, and he nods. “Oh yeah, she’s super supportive! I’ve got my own little cheerleader over here,” he laughs for a second. “No, I mean I don’t think I would’ve bounced back in a lot of the ways I have without her.”

The interviewer cocks her head slightly, and you can tell immediately that she’s going to take a jab at that. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean she’s so enthusiastic about what I do and is so energetic that it’s kinda hard to sulk around and feel sorry for myself when I mess up because she’s just ready to help me try again. It’s like I’m taking a shot of espresso whenever she’s around.” He laughs once more, this time looking over at you which immediately makes your cheeks heat up.

You feel a nudge then and you break eye contact, glancing to your right to see Brody looking at you with the cliché ‘ooooh, someone's got a crush’ look. Rolling your eyes gently, yet still smiling, you turn your attention back to your boyfriend. The moment is fully pure, filled with such genuine affection, that you can't help but feel a swell of pride in your chest.

Thankfully the interview doesn’t last much longer, because as hard as you tried to pay attention to the remaining couple of minutes, your mind was in a constant rewind mode, replaying what your boyfriend said over and over. You don’t actually notice that it’s over until you notice Brody shuffling away from you and you look up to see Stephen walking over. His stride is confident, his eyes locked onto yours, and your heart flutters in anticipation.

Your smile brightens more as he reaches you, his hand immediately finding your waist and pulling you close into him. His smile matches yours and you just stand for a second, smiling like idiots as you stare at each other. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own perfect bubble. You then stretch up a tad, moving to push his glasses back up his nose and you lean in closer.

“A shot of espresso, huh?” You say quietly, eyebrows rising slightly. Your voice is soft, filled with a mixture of amusement and affection.

He laughs, looking away for a second before plastering a serious expression on his face. “Yeah, you fill me with energy and make me feel ready for the day and, y’know,” he pauses for a split second before lowering his voice. “I love drinking you—”

“Stephen Nedoroscik, behave,” You whisper sternly, but as a satisfied grin works its way onto his face, you can’t help but laugh just a little. “You better pray to God that those microphones are off now.”

“I said it quietly,” he says with an innocent shrug, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes. “A shot of espresso,” you say again, shaking your head. The phrase now holding a special significance, a private joke between the two of you.

“Mm, I mean if your energy in bed is anything to go off of—”

“Steve!”

He laughs again, this time taking your hand as he begins to lead you out of the room. Slinging an arm over your shoulder, he turns his head and presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Seriously though, you’re the best. I love you.”

You smile, leaning into his side, feeling the warmth of his body against yours and you words are simple, but they carry the weight of all the love and affection you feel for him “I love you more, champ.”

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love?

Chapter 9

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

TW: Sexual content

Love jumped with the needle poking her skin, pushing her away from her dreamlike state. She had been particularly distracted all day, and not even the witty remarks of the Seamstress or the shy giggles of her assigned dream handmaids made her mind present at the conversation. Probably thanks to the amount of milk from night blooming jasmines she has been drinking. At first, she’d only take it before bed, it gave her a dreamless deep sleep. Offering some peace without twisting in silk sheets all night mentally rewinding and analyzing every interaction with her husband, thinking about different outcomes of different dialogues. It was a never ending exercise that led nowhere.

After the invitation to the Endless reunion arrived, the numbness of the jasmines became a necessity to be used during the day. Morpheus became even more difficult and it led her to such serendipity. Like she was under anesthesia, all that bothered her, couldn’t pass the liquid protection of the milk. Every conversation seemed like a distant uninterested topic, incapable of holding her attention. It would be especially useful in this dreadful dinner she must attend.The sting of the needle made her emerge from the comfortable dreamlike state, back in reality. It was like putting the head out of the water after staying so long under, you don’t remember what breathing is like.”Forgive me, I am quite distracted today”

In front of the trifold mirror in her quarters, Eoster moved slightly in the pedestal, taking a deep breath, showing she was now engaged (even if only for a few seconds) in the conversation. Seeing her reflection, she admired the beaded imperial waist white dress with a low neckline, even the slightest move made it sparkle. The Seamstress was doing the final adjustments of the Lady’s dress for the family dinner at her brother-in-law’s realm. “Nothing to forgive, my Lady Love, you just lost a little weight.” The handmaids exchanged a knowing look and the brunette observed the ancient entity, who was quick with her needlework.

Only for a few hours in the Dreaming and the Seamstress already knew. The way the woman spoke, with a hint of pity, the Seamstress could see right through her. She wanted to defend herself, to argue that she didn’t “lost weight” which was a polite and very court-y like to say that a lady or lord changed for the worst. They were unhappy, depressed, melancholic. Different from the young maiden she dressed centuries ago. Of course Eoster didn’t take into account the vast experience in seeing failed marriages . ‘Bigger the marital disaster, bigger the wardrobe’ the Seamstress always used to say to her protegés.

And Lady Love had more clothes and garments than a lifetime of events.

All the Endless would be present at this dinner, and as Dream’s wife, she was expected to come. Neither of them was thrilled to spend an entire evening sitting side-by-side, enduring Desire humorous glances, double-meaning questions and condescending comments or Delirium’s never ending topics that always end up in uncomfortable inquiries or remarks.

One moment she is talking about ice creams and somehow it jumps to “ Brother why you never kiss Sister Love? Isn’t that what love is?” or “It’s just like Brother when Sister Love touches him” describing someone having an electric shock, referring to how quickly a mortal could snap away their hand.

The bearable ones were Lady Death, who was always very kind to Love, and in the beginning of their marriage even came to visit the newly wed couple in the Dreaming. Lord Destiny, who was not much of conversationalist but could stir the direction of the conversation, sometimes saving the couple from uttering embarrassment, and Lord Destruction. Who was a touchy subject between the couple, thanks to an ill comment by Aunt Primness, excused as usual, by Aunt Temperance. Not that Morpheus forgave Aunt Prim. Not that Aunt Prim asked for forgiveness.

It happened during The Second Harvesting’s celebration, which are among Love’s favorites festivities. Decorations in orange and earthy-like tones, the smell of ripe apples and pumpkins, but most importantly, she loved it as a festivity for dancers. All night: Country dances, cotillions, minuets, boulangers and quadrilles. When she was a maid, Love used to dance until her shoes were worn out.

That was, of course, before. Now, Lady Love, accompanied by her husband, was sinking in a chair by his side, not holding her wishful sighs seeing everyone else partake in a dance. Unfortunately for Love, Dream didn’t show any interest in dancing. She didn’t even know if he actually knew how to, since she couldn’t remember seeing the Lord of Dreams ever take any lady or lord to one. Even if they were at odds, as usual, Eoster was always inclined to do as her dear Jane wrote in one of her books: ‘Dancing. Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable’. But Morpheus didn’t seem like the type to have read Jane Austen.

Love had her hands crossed in her lap, resting against the bright orange fine columnar silk skirt embellished with a lace pattern that covered the entire dress. Although it was long, it didn’t trail on the floor, as some of her dresses. The empire waist, low neckline and bare neck made her bosom a bit more apparent but not improper for a queen. In her hair, ribbons entwined her curls, in a variety of warm autumn colors that tickled her neck and her short puffy sleeves brushed against her husband’s satin black attire, very similar to the one he would use regularly, only in a different refined fabric.

The Endless did not pay much attention to his wife, as usual. They paraded around, doing the required social agenda, and ended up sitting side by side at their designed table. The raven haired king’ eyes scramble through the crowd. Since their arrival, he seemed to be expecting someone else, at first she thought it could be his siblings, but after he denied when she asked, she knew exactly who he was looking for.

And the minute he found her, he would give his wife some rushed mediocre excuse and leave her with her wine. At least he wouldn’t count the glasses and endlessly complain about her drinking. ‘I will stop when my king gives me a reason to.’ she once said to him while intoxicated.

“Looking for someone, Prince of Stories?”

And that was when the evening started to go south.

The Aunts were barely seen in any parties, they weren’t the oldest entities but certainly were one of the proudest. And for some reason, everyone always tiptoed around them. They were rare to see in events, usually preferring to receive a few selected guests in her realms. Which made them even more of an attraction when they came to one.

Aunt Primness had her dark blond hair in a tight updo with a delicate diamond tiara and earring and necklace matching it, her bangs meticulously divided side by side with an airbrushed finish, her light green eyes deadly-stared at Morpheus with disdain. She wore a beautiful purple silk brocaded dress, with a low neckline, short sleeves and complemented with long white sleeves that reached her elbow. She looked older than the couple, even if she was younger. “Aunt Prim!” Love was quick on her feet, giving the lady one kiss on each cheek, without breaking eye contact with the husband.

Aunt Prim knew Morpheus was looking for Calliope and any excuse to flee away as quickly as possible. She despised him for making Love miserable, feeling that one of her favorite entities was far too melancholic and apathetic, perfectly aware that its source was sitting broodling right beside her. “Love!” The soft voice, one step behind Aunt Prim, revealed to be Aunt Temperance, a kind woman, with delicate features. She was the complete opposite of Aunt Prim, although the two were inseparable. Even in the way they dressed.

Contrasting to the purple attire, Temperance was wearing a floor length silk dress in a pastel yellow color and a princess silhouette, the fabric was covered in white damask pattern, which made her even more like a sunshine with her bright red hair, elegantly pulled in a updo with pearl pins scattered through it and her short bangs making a curly front. She had a calm smile, but a warm hug.

As everyone said: One is kind but not clever, the other is clever but not kind. And one look was enough to tell each one was it.

Love greeted both of the Aunts as her husband did the same, with a polite but distant nod, ignoring Aunt Prim’s question. “Please, join us.” She politely invited, even if her husband gave her a side condemning eye, he knew she couldn’t send both of them away, it would be terribly inappropriate. “Are we expecting someone else?” Aunt Prim asked, while fixing her dress after sitting down. Love began to answer, but the aunt interrupted her “Are we, Prince of Stories?” Aunt Temperance felt the tension rise and tried to change the subject “Lovely celebration isn’t it? Prim, didn’t you say something the other day about how the Second Harvest was the only festivity worth coming for?”

A staring contest began between Aunt Prim and Morpheus, as her husband gave her a short “No.” as answer. To which the old woman opened her mouth making a “Ah!” as that settled the subject, ignoring Aunt Temperance, who was still going about the festivity. “Such wandering eyes, especially when your Queen is right beside you.” Love grinded her teeth, stiffening her posture “Aunt Prim…” She quietly pleaded, looking over her lashes to the woman, already feeling hard to breathe.

The blonde woman turned to Temperance talking as she was remembering a fun fact, a nostalgic memory. “Do you remember, Temp, when Love was still a maiden, how many suitors would fall at her feet, just for a quick glance from hers? I remember her hiding in the corners and balconies trying to catch some air. Pleading us to not tell a soul where she went. Her dance card would be filled by this hour and her feet thorn by the dancing.”

Love blushed in embarrassment, looking anywhere else but to Morpheus and the Aunts. Prim was trying to imply that her husband should feel lucky to even have her by his side. Temperance looked over the King, who shifted in his seat. Morpheus tolerated Aunt Temperance but Aunt Prim was unbearable. She overprotected Love, who did not need any protection, and had been a pain in his life since Love and him got married.

It seemed to be her favorite passtime to torture and embarrass him.”My wife was indeed very popular.” It wasn’t a compliment as he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “You don’t have to-“ Love mumbled and stopped as her husband gave her another side eye capable of freezing souls.

The Aunt didn’t seem to understand that he was stuck in the same miserable life as Love. More than that, she didn’t know that Love was responsible for her own misery. But Prim only saw that he was romantically involved with Calliope and that they shared a child together. Primness was beyond repulsed by this. Especially when she knew Eoster for being devoted to all her duties, realm and subjects, and a proper lady, which was a rare combination these days. Prim took the queen’s pains as hers, and different from most, she wasn’t afraid of politely making Dream remember who he was married to.

The most offensive of his crimes and what made Aunt Prim (who usually would avoid meeting with the king she had no respect to) to approach them was his wandering gaze. She knew many mortals with that same look on their face, looking for their mistresses while his wife was right there beside him. Maybe he indeed needs a lesson of good morals.

Calliope would be a sight to calm his heart and ease his pain, a brief moment where they could be together and pretend he doesn’t share a soul with another. He wanted to take her to those events, dance with her, whisper dark desires he wanted to do with her after, having to settle for caressing her soft tight under the table, drawing circles in her delicate skin, seeing her lips parted letting a small whimper of want escape. He wouldn’t have to meet behind locked doors, and worry about a bored wife that seemed to want to be anywhere else but with him.

It wasn’t forbidden to take a mistress or a lover after a True Marriage, but it certainly wasn’t seen with good eyes to other entities. Some of them, like Aunt Prim, were really fond of Love, and tolerated Dream because of her. They couldn’t defy him because of his Endless status, being more powerful than most, but found his choices appalling. Especially since Love, as an anthropomorphic manifestation of the four loves, outrank Calliope as a muse. They preferred as minimal contact as possible. Morpheus did not find this a problem at all. He had his duties to attend, not needing to waste time at parties with dull companions as his wife liked to indulge so much.

“You used to love to dance, my sweet darling.” Prim signed and Love raised her eyes to watch the pity in the Aunt's eyes. She opened a fake smile, taking a sip of her wine, before continuing. “I still adore dancing, Aunt Prim. Tonight, we are leaving the dancing to the young ones. Tomorrow, Morpheus and I have quite a day, our feet need rest.” A perfect crafted lie, she looked over to Morpheus, looking for approval as she awkwardly reached for his hand over the table, feeling he stiffened under the sudden touch. A very on-the-face gesture to show her Aunts that they were fine.

Her “busy day” in the morning would consist of doing the same things she did everyday, answer letters from the Garden, drinking wine, wonder through the empty hallways, tender her garden at the palace, maybe if she was lucky, The Corinthian would pass by and indulge her by telling about his day or maybe she would just drink wine until the handmaids woke her up to take her to a warm bath. If they add perfumed oils, later Morpheus would summon her to bed, if not, she could sleep or die that no one would care.

“What a lucky prince you are, Dream with such a thoughtful wife.” Aunt Prim poke. “Excuse me” Everyone looked up, and never Morpheus and Love were so relieved by an interruption. The tall broad red haired man, Lord Destruction, made himself present, Love bowed her head lightly as did the Aunts. “It was about time! Go on, my sweet child, your feet will forgive you for one dance” Primness gesture toward Love, as she needed to quicken her pace. The couple and the brother-in-law looked confused at each other. As none of them moved, Primness made herself clear “Lord Destruction clearly came to take you for a dance, my dear, seeing that his dear brother felt indisposed. What a considerate brother-in-law! Blessing for your intentions, my Lord” Prim even sounded genuinely relived.

Love felt heat reaching to her cheeks, and gulped. She liked her brother in law, but he was known to be a terrible dancer, and Love liked her feet too much to have them crushed. She could also see that smirk on the Aunt’s face, and Aunt Temperance looked as confused as the rest. “But he didn’t-” Aunt Prim raised Aunt Temperance’s glass to her eye level “Drink your lemonade, Temp, your throat is dry.” Dismissing and cutting the redhaired that thought for a moment before taking the glass. Hydration was important to Lady Temperance.

What was the Aunt planning? Crushing Love’s feet? Over a dance? Just because she didn’t partake in her passtime of poking Morpheus with a short stick? For the love of the Garden! The old hag wasn’t the one going to bed with him and having to deal with his moods!

“If, of course, Lord Morpheus doesn’t mind.” Aunt Prim never called Morpheus ‘Lord’. She was definitely into something, almost tempting Morpheus to deny the request. “Of course not. My Lady, If your heart desires, you may dance. You don’t need my permission to do so.” She nodded, hesitantly getting up and grabbing Destruction’s arm and walking away from the group. The brother still looked confused, not knowing how searching for his little sister ended up with a dance with his small almost feather-like sister-in-law. Neither of them however, have the guts to protest the old woman.

“Don’t get me wrong, Love. I would’ve asked you to dance, if I knew you wanted to, but I was just looking for Delirium and” She interrupted him, before he could tangle himself in excuses that weren’t necessary. “No need to excuse yourself, my lord. That was just Aunt Primness being Aunt Primness. Doing some scheme to get me away from my husband, so she could torture him freely.” Both of them arrived at the center of the ballroom, along with other couples, waiting for the instruments

“Is that who she was? It is true what they say then.” Love raised an eyebrow questioning, and Lord Destruction looked to the sides, as Aunt Prim could have ears everywhere “She does get you to do things that you had no intention in doing and make you feel like it’s your obligation.”

Love chuckled, it was the first humorous conversation she had since…Well, a long time. “Is dancing with me such a terrible burden?” She teased, holding a smile, faking an appalled expression. She could see his face becoming red, terrified he might have offended her. How can someone be the personification of destruction, something that causes so much pain to mortals, be such a kind soul? “N-No! That was not, what I-” Love laugh, a laugh that could make flowers blossom “I am terribly sorry. I couldn’t resist a small tease”

Destruction shook his head, responding with a small chuckle. He never saw his brother’s wife laugh or tease, let alone make jokes. She usually was, at least in the few occasions he saw her, quiet, politely answering only what was asked, always with her head down, and innocent eyes looking over her lashes, constantly looking for approval from Dream.”If I may, I don’t think Primness send you here torture my brother. I think she wants revenge against you.” Love was beautiful, one of the most, if not the most, stunning entities he’d ever seen. It was impossible not to notice. Of course he had noticed before, at the dinners, but she was often gloomy, her beauty dulled. Not the vibrant woman with a lightened smile he was seeing. Destruction could understand and even admire the courage some entities had, even after her marriage (one must be completely insane to want something, in this case, someone, that was Dream’s.) to keep faithfully waiting for a chance to even talk to her.

“Me? What could I possibly have done against Aunt Prim?” It was his time to tease. “Not you. Your feet. Only someone wanting revenge on one’s feet would send them to dance with me.”

Both of them laugh. “Well, thinking about it, some new feet wouldn’t be a bad idea. Mine's always been a bit too flat ” She joked right before the music began.

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Love thought it would be worse. But turns out, for someone the size of Lord Destruction, he was quite a skilled dancer. They spliced a boulanger into a cotillions, two minuets and even one quadrille. When they were beginning to prepare for the next dance. Someone tapped her dance partner's arm. It was Morpheus. Immediately Love started to fumble with words, having completely forgotten the time. “Forgive me, husband. You must be exhausted. I should-” He interrupted her, turning to his brother “May I have the next dance with my wife?” He especially stressed the “wife” part. Destruction didn’t seem to catch that, nor the fluster in Dream’s face.

“Of course, brother. You arrived just in time. Lovely night, Love.” He bowed, kissing her hand. Dream barely let him kiss his wife's hand, taking upon his own. Leaving the couple, but not the ballroom as he had a special request to the musicians.

Love didn’t see this, as she was occupied trying to read her husband. She was glistening and flushed, smiling, even some curls were loose. A disheveled appearance. It angered him. The thought of it. He never, indeed, thought about it, it shouldn’t bother him. But the moment the old hag Primness said it, the moment she suggested it, her appearance boiled his blood, as he now could see it in not so innocent sceneries.

He had an extra marital affair, yes, but it was a relationship, before he was married, he didn’t find a mistress after. Calliope was his wife in the true meaning of the word, his confident, his friend and his lover. It could barely be considered disgraceful behavior. Love and him shared an eternal bond, a trap he wasn’t convinced she didn’t scheme with Desire. The solitude he condemned her, was a light punishment for forever keeping away from his true love. He did worse with Nada, and she did nothing like Love did.

He didn’t love Eoster. He couldn’t love or trust her. Even if sometimes it was more difficult than he made it seem. She had every quality of a queen, an eagerness to be useful, the perfect balance to his strict and ruthless rule, empathic, kind and understanding. She cared for his creations and his realm as it was her own. And through lustful lens, it was also impossible to deny how her body also felt sinful perfect against his own, it wasn’t difficult to seek release when Love received him so well, her perky breasts moving with each thrust, her flushed complexion, curls sprawled in the mattress, he could hear the light whimpers every time he relentlessly pushed inside her. She never seem to enjoy it, since he made no effort to make it pleasant to her, but she didn’t protested or denied him.

Morpheus knew from their first night, she expected something entirely different. Not a marital duty between sheets, but a love making out of the most passionately beautifully written books.

It was a challenge not to fall in love with her. He was certainly that was the reason Desire choose her to conspire with. His sibling was very aware that he was a devoted and passionate lover, that did anything to make his companions happy. If he felt for Eoster’s charming ways, he would blindly follow her and she and Desire would take complete advantage of it.

It was way to protect himself. She wouldn’t succeede in making him fall for her, if she found him completely unfazed by her charms. It was also a punishing for her alliances. A hell of her own choosing. And maybe knowing this was why she never protested his callings to his chambers.

He never looked for her out of desire. He went to her, because she was there and Calliope wasn’t.

He always thought that if Love wanted to finally give in to one of those extensive letters she constantly received from frustrated suitors, she could. She didn’t have to pretend to be a faithful wife that loved her husband, and was the only moral saint between them. In fact, this angered him, for he knew her true intentions. If she choose a lover and it didn’t get in the way of her duties, she had his blessings. Maybe it would even make her more tolerable.

At least he though this, until Aunt Primness actually suggested it.

During their second dance, the table could clearly see Destruction and Love, laughing, happily dancing, both following the steps as it was as natural as breathing. At first, when Prim suggested the dance, he thought the old entity only wanted to provoke him, without Love making pitiful excuses. But she didn't, keeping quiet, lazily moving her fan, letting Temperance fill the silence with polite small talk about the Second Harvesting.

Aunt Prim sent Temperance to get more glasses of lemonade for both of them. “Behave” she sternly told Primness, who gesture in dismissiveness. “It is so good seeing Love smiling again. That smile can melt snow, make birds sing and flowers bloom. Don’t you wish you could see that everyday?” She signed moving lazily her purple fan.

Morpheus didn’t reply, not freely walking into one of her traps. Continuing looking at the dance, well, not exactly watching it, but distracting himself, taking some opportunities to scan the room looking for his lover. “They do make a dashing couple.” She finished her glass of wine, raising to the king “A true couple”. That caught his attention, as he stared at her, his eyes cold as ice, not believing in what she was saying.

Primness, the Aunt of moralism and austere views of living. His cold stare should’ve been a warning to Prim to stop that nonsense. Not that she cared. “You should consider supporting their affection. Love has been the most graceful to you, enduring your affairs and its products." By ‘products’ she meant Orpheus. Prim never said his name, finding it obscene just acknowledging him. “ Some others, would have the mistress' head in a stake by now, and their offspring, drowned. It is only fair if you offer her the same courtesy.”

The moment she finished it, Morpheus felt offended by it, ready to get on his foot, grab his wife and drag her out of there, never to go to another one of these stupid celebrations ever again. But, seeing her dazzling between dancers, he took a moment to consider. She looked happy. His brother also seemed to be enjoying her company. Love could fulfill her duties, but she wouldn’t be moping around, sighing, constantly begging for attention. For the first time in forever, Primness gave him a useful idea.

He was certain Love would be good for Destruction, she would be attentive, and caring, having someone to lay all her love, someone to talk to, someone to laugh with, and that would listen to the futilities of the Garden. His brother probably would also be intrigued by having someone different than him, a delicate porcelain skin flower, someone patient who could calm his nature, introduce him to the variety of the arts Love was well versed in.

“Just have to be cautious. After all, a child of love and destruction would not be good for anyone.” Prim mentioned it as she was talking about the weather. That stinged Morpheus in a place he hadn’t considered. Carnal pleasure.

Encourage their affections, wouldn’t lead them to just be friendly, platonic lovers. Eoster would be his mistress and Destruction would be her lover. The air shifted. Morpheus paid close attention to their dance, hyperfixated in the couple, feeling his breath becoming erratic by their proximity.

The way her delicate fingers pressed his brother's large arms, small squeezes she gave as the dances progride. Morpheus started to imagine those same delicate nails digging in his brother back, letting red marks all over his back, as he would take her, filling her with pleasure. Skin flushed as now, glistening with sweat running through her ribs, her breasts just like in the dance, lightly brushing against his large torso, but without any piece of cloth separating them, his hand probably covering entirely her breasts and she would scream in pleasure as he squeezed them. He would hover over her, covering her entire small frame, she would throw her arms around his neck, pushing him closely, hungry for his lips, guiding him in a deep kiss, letting him take complete control, feeling something she hadn’t in centuries: Desire. A man that actually desires her as her own, not using her as replacement, a man that would worship every inch of her skin.

Destruction would give her those love making from the books, preparing her body, tasting the nectar that dripped from her core, while working his tongue inside her, arching her entire body, feeling an unbearable heat, having to be hold down by the waist. Love was extremely reactive, she would give a show, but not to Morpheus, to his brother. She would cry his brother's name, dripping from her mouth like a prayer.

She would not whimp, she would loudly moan, looking at him with stars in her eyes, lips swallowed and parted trying to get air, as she was doing during the dance. He would add fingers to stretch her, sensing if she would be able to take him, telling how good she was, whispering the most sinful praises, confessing all that he would do to her, making her wetter, while working on her bundle of nerves, bringing her to an edge. Love will think it was never like this with Morpheus. Love would jerk herself toward Destruction, craving for friction, to feel his hard member dripping with precum touching her inner thigh, legs wrapped around his waist, feeling the tip against her entrance as he position himself to slide inside her warm wet entrance, that invites him so eagerly, her walls clenching around nothing in expectation. It wouldn’t be uncomfortable as it always was with Morpheus. She wouldn’t want to lay with her husband anymore, and Dream would not be able to blame her.

The way her body felt perfect underneath him, how she stretched and clenched around him, almost making him come in an instant. It would feel perfect underneath his brother, she would not avoid his gaze, as she avoids Dream, she would dwell in Destruction’s gaze. He would never command her to lay on all fours, as he would take her from behind, trying to picture she was someone else. He would never dare to think about another woman’s while inside her. Not like Dream. Destruction would sully her insides with his seed, he would claim her mouth as his. His brother would, as everything he touches, completely destroy his wife.

Morpheus might have been her first, but Destruction would be the one she loved.

He could already see, how his brother would make mortals fight in her name, declare wars to whoever happened to displease her. If he even imagined that Dream was making her unhappy, that he was the reason she copious cries to sleep, that she was unloved and neglected. Destruction may even forget that he is family.

Those images in his head, made him indescribably jealousy, the idea of someone else touching her, someone else seeing her in ways only Dream’s eyes had, someone else occupying her thoughts, boiled inside him and culminating with seeing his brother spin her in his arms in the air as she laughs, right before putting her gently on the ground and she stumbled, falling in his arms, chest glued to chest, faces closed. “Excuse me” He got up quickly, ignoring any protests against unpolitness that Prim might’ve done, making his way through the crowd of dancers, as they clapped to the end of the music.

Little did he know, that she merely follow him with her eyes. A smirk spouting in her face. “What did I miss? Where is Lord Morpheus?” Aunt Temp said it, clueless of what just happened. “Being sensible for once.” Prim said as she took a sip of her lemonade with a mischevous look to Temperance “Oh, Primness, what did you do this time?” Temperance shook her head already knowing Aunt Prim executated one more of her well crafted naughty plans. “Sometimes even an Endless need to be reminded that all they have, can be easily lost.” The red haired woman shrugged taking a sip of her own bevarage, but couldn’t help a small smile.

“Is there something wrong, husband? We can go if you desire to. I am a bit weary.” He glanced at her, she was genuinely concerned, as his behavior was out of character “I saw how weary you were.” He said in an accusatory tone. She frowned, what in the garden's name her husband was upset about now? Laughs? Fun? Does he hate happiness too? He cleaned his throat, trying to sound reasonable “ I saw how tired you seemed, and thought that maybe my brother was too avid of a dancer. And maybe you need a more serene partner” She nodded, not believing in his explanation.

As soon as the violins begin, she recognized as the Waltz of Lovers. Her husband wouldn’t want to dance that. “It’s a waltz, husband, if you-” He interrupted her, by offering his other hand “Shall we?”

And they danced.

Morpheus and Eoster synchrony was beyond perfection, the other couples cleared the center of the ballroom, dancing to the sides. The effortless move, their feet seemed to barely touch the floor, it was mesmerizing. Love never thought it would be so easy to dance with her husband, they seemed to be made for one another, swiftly, delicately and smoothing dancing in each other's arms, trusting each other’s steps, Love gracefully accepting being guided by her husband. If there was a light candle in Morpheus' hand, the flame would not have extinguished during the whole dance, it wouldn’t even flinch. They were perfect partners that every single entity applauded in the end.

Before, however, Love could drop her husband’s hand, after receiving the praise, he pressed her into his body, and passionately kissed her, holding her by her waist. At first, she was in such a state of shock, she didn’t move, it took only a few seconds but to her it was a noticeable eternity, everyone could tell, until she closed her eyes, and let him slide his tongue into her mouth, throwing her hands over his neck. His grip tightened around her waist, and he pressed her further in his body. Their audience applauded louder.

“Husband what has gotten into you?!” She said it as soon as they were back at the Dreaming, not long after their dance. He walked in front of her, in a quick pace, not saying a word, and Love had to hold her skirt to run after him. “I told you before.” Love rolled her eyes. “Not the dance, that kiss.” He stopped putting his hand behind his back and turned to her. “What about it, my lady?” She knew he was faking his calm manner, he was flustered in anger, and she had no idea of what Aunt Primness could have said that left him like this.

She blushed, looking at the floor, not beliving he would made her say it, but trying to make it as rational as possible “ You never kissed me in such a manner, my lord. It’s not that it didn’t please me to have your affection. But it was inappropriate.” He widened his gaze. “ Inappropriate! Pray tell me, wife, is it appropriate to be covered in sweat and completely disheveled while dancing with my brother?” She was taken aback by his enquiry. Both of them were staring at each other.

Love might not understand her husband, but she was well versed in that feeling. The conflicted look behind his eyes. It was too familiar. She’d seen in a thousand men and women. “You are jealousy”. She said not believing the words that came out of her mouth. A gasped laugh came out of her throat, before she taped her hand over her mouth. “Forgive me, I…” She laughed again. Not because it was a funny fact, but she couldn’t believe in it. Morpheus jealous, of her of all people? Oh and people still say that marriage becomes dull after the first century together.

“You are jealous of me. With…Your brother? Is that it?” Dream turned his back mumbling “ I will talk to you when you regain some sense”. She went after him, continuous with the subject, ignoring his mumbles. “Did Aunt Primness put those ideas into your head? Husband, you know she is just vexing you.” She stopped “Besides, I would never partake in any affair, I am devoted to our marriage, even if you choose to punish me with it.” He turned facing her shaking his head in disagreement and spiteful answering “ You are drunk” Love rolled her eyes, enjoying his embarrassing far too much “ Maybe, but I can be passed out and still recognize a jealous man by miles.”

Morpheus for the first time in a long time of marriage, didn’t feel the need to have the last word.

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Every since that day, Love kept ruminating the night over and over again, especially a few days later, when none other then Lucienne, asked her if she was having trouble sleeping, and Love lied, telling no, the librarian told her that the king was probably worried, because he asked her to scan through her dreams.

Love was surprised but not furious. For the first time, and how she loved that feeling, she had the upper hand, and her husband was struggling to regain control. The night blooming jasmine milk came to her as a cruel prank. Her husband was interested in her dreams, wasn’t he? Probably looking for signs of secret desires for his brother. Well, she would put up a challenge, not dreaming at all.

She could sense his moodiness with her dreamless sleep. And of course he didn’t question her, for he knew it would be an odd to take such interest in her sleep, when he didn’t even share a bed with her. Also to say he knows she is not dreaming, is to deliberately say he is spying her sleep. He needed to silently wait for her dreams. Or he would have to confess his jealousy over her.

Love prayed he would let something slip so she could call him immature and delusional for thinking she would have anything with his brother. Condemning him for thinking so lowly of his own wife, wishing to say that she wasn't like him, looking for comfort somewhere else because she couldn’t commit to her husband. Also, did he even stopped to actually think about that ludicrous ideia? From all those tempting letters she received, did he think she would take another Endless as her lover? She was a lady for love’s sake! Besides, one Endless was enough.

When both received the invitation to his family reunion, it was when she started to drink the milk during the day. Her husband’s mood got significantly worse since they received the letter. and the closer they get to the date, the worse it got. All the Endless siblings would be there. That included not only the ones both Morpheus and Eoster liked such as Death, Destiny and Delirium, but Desire, Despair and poor Lord Destruction, who definetly wasn’t expecting what was coming.

@secretdreamlandmentality @littlemoistcarrot @lokigirlszendaya

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Extra: First Earthquake)

Summary: Y/N experiences an earthquake for the first time. She and Harry have a bizarre serendipitous moment.

AN: I felt an earthquake for the first time yesterday and it inspired me to finally write this silly story that's been in my mind for nearly a year.

Previous Chapters:

Main Story: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

Sickfic Part 1 ; Part 2

Mitchrry Prequel

Fan Reactions

Holiday Blues

Mitchryy Reunion

Getting High

Word Count: 1.1K

CW: earthquake, injury, blood, vomit

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When you moved to Los Angeles to live full time with Harry, Mitch, and Sarah, you had a million questions. One thing you were almost embarrassed to ask about was earthquakes. Luckily, none of them laughed about your concern. They’d all experienced a few themselves. While most were small, they can each remember at least once or twice that they’d been genuinely worried during a fairly large quake.

So, they listened to your worries, told you what to expect, and shared what they’ve been told to do in order to stay safe.

A few months in, there’s a mild earthquake. The doors rattle, the mirrors and art on the wall shake, but no damage is done, and it only lasts a few seconds. You report to your friends back home that you finally experienced one.

But now is the first time you truly get shaken around. Harry, Mitch, and Sarah are all in the basement studio working together on new music. You’re upstairs in your little home office answering some emails.

You’re sitting at your desk in the corner of the room when everything starts to rattle. It’s small at first, but quickly you know this is much bigger than last time. Immediately you think of what you’ve been told to do in this situation.

The number one piece of advice you remember is to get under a desk or table. Your glass desk, however, doesn’t seem like the best choice.

There’s a sturdy coffee table in the middle of the room and you start to make your way over to it, stumbling due to the floor shaking beneath you. Suddenly, something slams into the back of your head, but adrenaline keeps you moving forward. You finally dive under the table and ride out the end of the earthquake.

Moments after the shaking subsides, you hear three sets of footsteps running up the stairs. Mitch bursts into the room first, Sarah and Harry right behind him.

“Love, are you okay?” Sarah asks as she helps you out from under the table.

“Yea, I just think something hit my head,” you reply and glance around the room. On the floor is a large decorative vase that normally stands in a recessed shelf on the wall. You point to it and say, “That. I’m fairly certain that hit the back of my head.”

“Let me see,” Harry says, his hand going to your hair. You hiss in pain, and he pulls back. “Shit,” he quietly breathes out, and you all look at him. His fingertips are red and wet. Blood. Shit is right. You’re definitely bleeding.

“How do you feel?” Sarah asks.

The adrenaline is wearing off, and that, mixed with seeing physical evidence that you’re injured, has the pain finally setting in.

“My head’s starting to hurt,” you reply. “And I feel a little bit dizzy.”

“You need to go to the hospital,” Mitch says. “C’mon, I’ll drive.”

Harry helps you stay steady all the way out to the car. You assure everyone you’re fine, it’s just a scratch and a headache, but the three of them don’t listen. They rush out of the house, stopping only to grab shoes and a towel to hold over the wound. Mitch drives, Sarah is in the passenger seat, and Harry is in the back next to you, keeping pressure on the cut.

On the drive over you start to feel nauseous. It’s manageable at first, but steadily gets worse. There’s nothing in the car to be sick into, and you ask Mitch to pull over. You guys are literally on the freeway, and you can tell Mitch isn’t comfortable with stopping there, but then he sees the panic on your face and does as you’ve asked. He finds a safe spot and pulls onto the shoulder.

The second the car is in park you open your door and lean out, throwing up on the side of the road. It’s not a fun feeling, but you do feel a bit better once you’re done. You get back in the car and roll the windows down, hoping fresh air will help.

Just before driving off, you look out the window, and something you see just ahead has you laughing.

“What’s happening right now, why are you laughing?” Sarah asks. You look at the concerned faces of your girlfriend and boyfriends and say, “Please look at where we are right now,” while you continue to laugh.

You can tell when they all see it. Because they join in laughing. Just ahead is an iconic sign stating, “Harry Styles threw up here”.

“What are the fucking odds of that?” Mitch says in disbelief.

“Someday, someone’s going to ask us how me and Harry knew we were right for each other,” you say. “And I am absolutely going to tell this story. Because obviously we’re soul mates if we’ve both randomly thrown up on the exact same stretch of LA freeway.”

“Damn straight we are,” he says with a laugh. “But your head is still bleeding a bit so let’s get moving again.”

Mitch and Sarah immediately shift back into worried mode along with Harry, and you hold back a giggle at how protective they always are over you. Even if you feel they’re sometimes a bit too much, truthfully you love how well they take care of you.

Sarah goes into the hospital with you, hoping you’ll stay more under the radar than if Harry was inside. It’s pretty crazy in the emergency department, the earthquake causing a good number of minor injuries, but they move as efficiently as possible.

Sarah holds your hand as they use glue and your own hair to close the small laceration on your head. You’re fascinated to learn that there’s a technique to close head wounds using a patient’s own hair as sutures. But if the squeamish look on Sarah’s face is anything to go by, she doesn’t share this thought. Luckily you don’t have a concussion, and the dizziness and nausea were just from losing blood.

You’re relieved to finally get back home. It’s unsurprising that Harry, Sarah, and Mitch all dote on you for the remainder of the day.

Nearly a year and a half later another earthquake hits. This time all four of you are in the dining room, and you barely have a moment to process what’s happening before arms wrap around you and pull you under the table. Mitch holds you tight, Harry doing the same to Sarah next to you, and you make it out of this one with no injuries.

A couple weeks after that you do a podcast with Harry. Sure enough, the woman hosting asks about when you two knew you were meant to be. Harry sees your smirk and begins to laugh before you even start the story of your first earthquake experience.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thanks for reading! Hope the science about earthquakes and hair apposition technique is right lol

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz@fictionalmensblog@buckybarnessimpp

[miseta]

Chapter 11 ➺ Dangerous steps

Starting over In Madrid

Misa Rodriguez x Reader (Nicky/first person)

After moving to Madrid as the new Real Madrid photographer, Nicky's eyes can't look away from the pretty face of Misa Rodriguez. But how is she going to handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her working contract's strictly forbidding her to date players?

Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➺ Hell Clasico Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and peaks Chapter 6 ➺ Paris est magique! Chapter 7 ➺ In the haze Chapter 8 ➺ Confusion and directions Chapter 9 ➺ A place for words Chapter 10 ➺ Not a cloud in sight TW: angst, blood 4K words

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ 

I was faking insurance, directing my little team in the gym for the first time, the players doing their usual exercises but with a little nervousness with tree lens focusing on them. 

"Er… Stay in the back, Eneko… behind that machin, yes," I told the short bask cameraman. "Try to get the foreground blurry. I’ll come to check in a minute. Mariam," I turned to a very dark skinned girl, "you go all round the room, focus on moves and faces expressions." Both of them nodded in acknowledgment. As for me, I positioned myself at the door to get some wide shots. 

The sound of the shutters melted with of the footballers rasps, breathing heavily with efforts, the coach voice chanting instruction every now and then. 

During de work out session, I came to see both my assistants, clumsily correcting two or three presets. I tried to harmonized style between takes and shots, to think visuals globally. It felt weird to have people doing the work you did for nearly one year and to be in charge of not only yours but also of their result. 

To give me courage, I glanced shortly at my wrist, looking at the thin colorful laced bracelet. "Give me your hand and close your eyes Cari!", the brunette had said on our reunion night after the holidays and she had worked at attaching something to my wrist. "Open your eyes! Te gusta? It’s from Las Palmas, I wanted to give you something from my Island!" Now, the bracelet was becoming more of an amulette, reminding me the loving presence of Misa in my life in time of need. 

One hour later, stress had eased a bit, not yet replaced by insurance and I was relieved when everybody started to leave the gym. Hayley nudged me roughly as she walked. "Good job, Director!", she praised me happily, adding in whisper, "Don’t go near Misa, she was looking at you like she was going to eat you up!". She left me giggling stupidly in front of the camera.

I started to disassemble the equipment when the goalie approached. Her moist face was hard and focused but soften as soon as we crossed eyes. She winked at me before going out of the gym, my gaze following her an instant. 

"Hey Nicky! It’s great to see you smile like that! Being director suits you well! Want help to pack your photo things?" Lea voice rang closed by as I kept staring absentmindedly at the empty door way. I prayed hard I wasn’t blushing too. 

"It’s ok, Mariam and Eneko are going to help me but thanks Léa." 

"Ok, bye!" The new goalie waved to me. 

My phone rang at that time. My heart would still skip a beat every time I would saw Misa’s name appear on the screen. I opened her message quickly and read, "You like directing people 😮‍💨" and I knew there was no way I wasn’t turning crimson this time.

*** 

Days passed I started to take get my bearings with my little team, voicing my intentions more clearly, and dividing works between us better. My new position also came with more pressure. I spent many free hours in librairies and bookshops, trying to get what the best photography and visual tendencies were. I wasn’t interested in just doing my job, no, I wanted to create something different for the Real. I was sure there were things to do artistically with football photography and I wanted us to set the pace, to be visual ahead of other clubs. There was no more assisting brands photographs or following visual guidelines, I was free to experiment week after week, and was surprise the club would often chose the most avant-gardiste proposition without having to argue. As their trust felt good, it was also setting expectations toward me very high.

Thus, on Sven advice, I dragged the goalkeeper in every photo exhibitions of the capital, the girl often balking when she’d imagine we spend the evening watching Netflix on the sofa. At the gallery, I was amused to see her face giving away her thoughts so clearly. She’d frown when she didn’t like a shot and nod discreetly at the pictures she found interesting. When pressure would become overwhelming, on the eve of an important meeting or after a bad project review, Misa would always find a way to make me smile, her warm voice saying things like "You’re doing ten time better than esta mierda we saw at the gallery" or "It's true you have particular gorgeous models but nobody makes me look like a goddess like you do!". To be able to comfort each other was one of the best part of our relation. 

However, I spent less time on the field, taking pictures, that part resting now on Mariam and Eneko, and more in my office, scheduling events and shootings, or in meetings with the creative or commercial Real Madrid teams. It wasn’t the change I liked most. I missed being outside, even with the heat dropping, automne being on its way in Madrid, and sharing practice session with the players. Therefore, I was seeing Misa less, our working hours not really aligned anymore, but maybe that was for the best… 

Because since our return from holidays, Misa and I were having more difficulties to handle well our hidden relation. After our week of freedom in Formentera, the first days had been really though. The goalie had tensed every time we had been near each other at work, stoping a caring gesture or looking away quickly when she’d been staring at me tenderly. We had grown used to being a regular couple and coming back to reality was like dozen of little slap in the face, constantly reminding us our perilous conditions. 

That was the first reason I wasn’t mad not sharing working hours with the goalie most of the time, feeling the made up distance between us wasn’t doing our couple any good. Secondly, the few practice sessions I joined were a good opportunity to witness Lea Kofi constantly flirting with my girlfriend. She’d put on a show, joking and laughing between exercises, touching Misa’s shoulder or sweeping grass strands off her short. The most unbearable part was to know they showered together almost every day, having me pictured Léa’s hungry gaze on the naked body of the brunette pretty clearly. I was more convinced day after day I was right about Lea crushing on the spaniard goalkeeper, stirring jealously and frustration in a dangerous mix. 

*** 

Therefore, I wasn’t appealed when the three of us had to go to the long-planned goalkeeper meeting at the end of September. Travelling was a pain. Sandwiched between the two goalies in the car, I hadn’t foreseen they would casually chat over me all the way. We arrived at the reception hotel in the late afternoon. We’d be staying over the night and I quickly checked if the French goalie wasn’t relying on it to attempt something with Misa. However, Lea’s face remained unreadable, appart from her usual ready to tease smirk. 

Then, we attended a never ending speech, hiding yawn after yawn. Misa did not lied when she said those events were boring as hell. Even Lea who had try to entertained us with her funny comments about the monotonous sentences of the speaker had stopped and was drowsing in her chair. To conclude the presentation all the goalkeepers went on stage to say a few words about their training and their clubs. The event being first and foremost for medias, I joined the crowd of journalists and photographers to take some shots of our charismatic goalies. 

Finally, the speaker invited us to a cocktail at the hotel reception. When we arrived in the vast modern hall, tables were loaded with fancy food and elaborated drinks and my eyes sparkled at the prospect of tasting every bites and canapés. 

“Eres incorregible!” Misa whispered as I stuffed my mouth with the tenth appetizer. I shrugged, chewing the delicious bite. 

“They’re so good! Too bad you have a match in two days so you can't eat a lot... ”, I taunted her. “Hey! I didn’t force you to become a professional athlete!“ I laughed at her dark gaze before patting her shoulder. 

But Misa moved away at once. “Be careful! Léa keeps sticking to me since the meeting ended!”

“Relax Misa, I’m not doing anything suspicious…” I replied, confused by her overreacting. 

“Well... sí, perdon…” she bites her lips and before I could say something, she disappeared back in the crowd of guests.

What the fuck was that? I told myself, going after her and scanning the hall. Misa was nowhere to be found. I sighted heavily. An opened door in front me revealed a calm and cozy terrace, inviting me to get a bit of fresh air.

I went out, the wether was definitely colder now and I retrieve a large folded scarf in my bad and wrapped it around me. I sat in an armchair, in a quiet spot of the terrace and sighed again, my guts knotting themselves with the many questions swirling in my brain. Since our return, Misa was back at acting weird, not speaking out when obviously something wasn’t right between us. She was avoiding serious discussions, remaining silent or evasive when I would question her. My guts knotted themselves more tightly and I was surprised to feel a strong need to smoke for the first time since I had quit, years ago. But before I had time to wonder where I could find a cigarette, a tall figure with voluminous curly hair walked toward me. 

Lea dropped herself in the chair facing me, putting her cocktail on the small round table between us. 

“Olalala Nicky, I’m fed up, this meeting’s hell! It’s full of old white guys and all the cute goalies I’ve talk to have girlfriends”, she sighed. 

I chuckled at Lea, relaxed by her usual raw talking, but I tensed again, feeling this conversation could go dangerously private. I swallowed a sip of champagne, the bubbles dancing on the roof of my mouth and I realized I could as well take advantage of the situation. So I inquired innocently, “Too bad… Meaning you’re actively looking for a girlfriend?“

“I’m thirty and I’m tired of flirts, I want to find somebody. Plus, Spanish women, my god! They’re like… really hot! I’ve dated a spaniard when I was in France, a middle fielder of my club but I hadn’t realized Spaniards were really my type before coming here“, Léa chuckled. "What about you, Nicky ?"

I drank again, a new confidence flowing in my body, guessing she was close to confirm what I feared, “Me? Oh, there’s not much to say. I’m not searching anything right now. So you like to date footballers?” 

“Not necessarily footballers, but yes I’m more attracted by sportswomen”. She paused to drink, with a nervousness I never saw before. She went on, fidgeting in her chair, “In fact… Nicky, do you know if… are you aware if Misa’s currently dating anybody?”

My heart both sank and triumphed. I fucking knew it! I lent back in the chair, drinking the last sip of champagne very slowly and enjoying the silence stretching between us. I had an answered waiting since a long time but I took an evil pleasure at seeing Léa peering at me expectantly. 

“Oh Misa… don’t waste your time, she’s seeing someone indeed.“ I told her in a light tone, not feeling touched in the slightest when I saw her frown in surprise and then shrink on herself with disappointment. 

“Putain…  she does? Since a long time? I should have done something sooner… You know if it’s serious?”

I tried hard to remain calm but I felt my hairs bristled, my voice cocky in spite of my efforts, “It’s been months and it’s pretty serious, yep!” 

The French woman blinked and sighted, “Fuck, she’s fun… so pretty and talented… Damned! I guess I’ve got a crush… but thanks for telling me, I should move on then. I hope her girlfriend is knowing how lucky she is… ”

I couldn’t help but smile mildly at her words, feeling my tensed muscles relaxing. Yes, I was so lucky, lucky to have built something so strong with Misa, lucky to have that thoughtful and truly kind lover in my life, lucky to be the one that could sooth her after a lost game or a fight with a teammate, lucky she chosed me when obviously, she could have anybody. 

My anger had disappeared, replaced by compassion for the French goalie and I replied, a hint of possessiveness lingering, “I’m sure she is… Forget about Misa and don’t worry Léa, you’re fun, pretty and talented too, I’m sure you’ll find somebody in no time!” 

“Thanks Nicky.” Léa winked at me but was looking a bit down after our conversation. 

I didn’t wanted us to dwell on Léa disappointment, being, moreover, the least personne to be able to comfort her, so I stood up and announced, “My glass is empty, come on Léa, let’s go back inside“.

It wasn’t really late when the three of us went to bed, but I let an hour pass before I dared to go in Misa’s room, the farthest one from the French goalie. The brunette pulled me inside swiftly, wearing only a large T shirt. She closed the door with the less noise she could, and pressed her mouth against mine at once. I chucked at her eagerness, stroking her loose dyed hair. 

How lucky I was indeed.

“What?” the goalkeeper asked when I laughed again softly. 

“I was right” I told her with a smug face. 

Misa put another kiss on my lips, her arms enfolding my shoulders, “Right about what?”

“Léa has a crush on you, she told me!” I dropped, triumphant. 

“What? Not this again!“ the goalie parted from me, clearly not pleased, “Why did she told you that in the first place?”

I was getting impatient with Misa’s mood swings, "She asked me if you were single, so I told her you’re not, obviously…"

“You told Léa I have a girlfriend?!” Misa’s face harden, making me mad.

“Yeah! Which is true, remember? Why does that even look like a problem?!“ 

But the goalkeeper was getting furious, taking one more step away from me, “First, I don’t see why you would speak up for me! I hate when people do that!” 

“Oh! I’m people now, great! Maybe I’m starting to get why you didn’t want Léa to know about me!” I spat, taking the step back toward her. 

Misa’s thick brows furrowed hard, her accent got heavier with anger “You’re ridiculous! And you’ve been fooled! Léa’s already asked me if I had someone and I said didn’t! Now, she knows I lied to her or at least that one of us lied! She used you, Nicky, to get personal informations about me when I wouldn’t give her!“

I felt something icy run along my spine, knowing Misa was right. I had been so dumbed. Still, The brunette’s word fed my own anger, “And can I know why you would lie? Why not say you have someone even if you can’t say it’s me?” I sensed my voice shake, hurt surging on top of my anger. 

Misa glared at me in the eyes, “You really don’t know anything about how things work in a sport team. Gossips spread fast, real and fake ones, moreover when you’re a little famous! Joder! You’ve just put me in the spotlights and yourself in danger! Everyone will want to know who’s my girlfriend by tomorrow, you’ve just put me in hell for weeks!”

I gulped my drying saliva, my heart drumming in my chest, frozen with the realization of what I had done.

The footballer begin to pace up and down in the room, her anger not easing “I told you not to worry about Léa, you didn’t trust me!”

I walked to her, my mouth parched, angst and hurt spreading in my body “It was the only thing I could say, the only thing I could do as your girlfriend… You can’t expect me to act like we didn’t exist!” 

The goalie silently put her fist on the wall, “I hate that! I hate being in a secret relationship! Secrets always bring trouble and pain!” 

I sat onto the bed, guilt choking me at the sight of Misa’s suffering, still hurt myself as she didn’t seemed to understand my position. I tried to hold them back but tears rolled down my cheeks anyway.

“I’ve never meant to…“ I began but my voice broke and I buried my face in my palm as sobs took over my body. 

We can’t go on like this. This is going to break us both.

I felt the mattress sagged beside me and my body being pulled against her warm torso. My arms wrapped around her at once, feeling the heavy load on my shoulders heavier as I felt so deeply in love with her, and I continue to cry until my running nose had me quit her arms to grab a tissue. 

After having blowed the hell out of me, I glanced again at the goalkeeper and saw her eyes were wet and reddened, traces of tears along her face. My heart broke a little more.

I was peering down as I spoke “I’m sorry, I just took the little freedom I could. I believed it was safe, for both of us.” 

“Lo sé”, Misa said and she sniffed. 

A few seconds passed, with us not really knowing what to say or do.

“I’m going to quit“, my voice rang in the stretching silence. 

Misa turned around at once, “Qué? No! Not now! You’re doing an amazing job as photo director. Real Madrid is full of opportunities for you!“

At last, we looked at each other again and her face was softer.

“But…“, I began. 

“I won’t let you quit for me right now. And about Léa, it will pass and I’ve been through worst.“ Misa hard tone had me quiet but her tender look appeased my angst, and for the second time this evening I realized how lucky I was to have her as my girlfriend. 

I heaved myself onto the bed, resting my back on the bed board and called Misa to joined me. It was her turn to snuggle up to me, having me amazed of how her large body could make itself so small nested against mine. I kissed her forehead, my nose grazing her loose baby hair and inhaling the vanilla scent of her shampoo that was so hers. 

“Te quiero, Cari... please don’t do that again….“ she said, her fingers folding the fabric of my night T-shirt. 

My hug tightened around the younger woman. “Te quiero tambien, Love. We’ll find way to make things work, I promise.”

***

One week latter, I pressed the doorbell of Misa’s appartement, exhausted from a particularly long day and waiting with apprehension at finding out the goalies’s present mood. 

"Hey Cari", the goalie smiling face greeted me, relaxing at once as she invited me inside. "You look terrible, qué passa?"

“Three meetings, one went good but the two other quite bad. Commercials didn’t like any of my propositions and Champions league visuals are not validated neither…” 

Misa mirrored my pout as I told her about my day and took me to sofa where we sat.

“Well, I have a good and a bad new to tell you as well. Let’s start with the bad one to be over it…“ Misa shifted her position to face me, taking a deep breath. “As I feared, the team’s new game is to guess who my secret girlfriend is… they even named it "la misacertijo" - the misa riddle. Yeah very funny jaja... So, that’s bad but what’s worst is that almost everybody is convinced she’s somebody working for the club. I know... it sucks", she added when she saw me wince. "But the good new is Caroline and Alba are pretty sure my girlfriend is… Toril’s assistant!"

We stared at each other in disbelief and burst of laughter. 

“What the fuck?! Where did they get that from?“ I wondered, whipping off tears of laughter. 

“I have no idea! I don’t even talk to her, maybe they found that suspicious. Anyway, that should protect you a bit. Hayley’s really embarrassed for us but she can’t do much. What about your good meeting?” 

“The good meeting was really good actually.” I smiled, “You know I’ve talk to Sven about showing my work? So, Ana is thrilled by the idea and she’s willing to organize an exhibition associating Real Madrid with my name! She’ll find the place and all!”

The goalie’s wide smile was the best reward I could get. “My talented novia, I want to be credited if you show photos of me!”

“Credits don’t work like that, Misa!” I chuckled, looking at her pretty face “but I guess you do inspire me, you’re my muse.” 

The goalie released a cute laughing noise, and started to pull a face. “Si, your muse! Should I pose like this? Or like that?” She said, her grimaces getting uglier, having me laughing out loud and loving her a little more as my tired body and brain emptied themselves from the stress of the day. 

I pull out my phone to immortalise Misa’s hilarious faces. In front of the phone’s camera, the goalie changed to exaggerated poses and I had trouble stabilizing my hands, shaking uncontrollably with laughter. As ridicule as she wanted to be mimicking model poses, I couldn’t help but being stricken by her features. From her thick brows to her full lips, something was really singular, even a bit raw in Misa’s face, making the beauty of it. In the meantime, her attitude was touching, usure and searching approbation, behind her charisma. 

I dropped my phone to take her face in my hands, pulling her into a swift kiss, “Fuck Misa! You’re so pretty doing nonsense I’d actually like to take pictures of you. I mean, more intimate ones, appart from the pitch and gym.” 

Misa froze, putting my hands down her face and glancing at me with a reprobative look, “Oh no, no, no! There’s no way I’m doing nudes! Madre Mia, Nicky, you’re obsessed with my body!”

“Pff, shut up! I’m not taking about nudes, I mean photographing you on our daily life. Nothing posed. Just relaying on situations… I just wanted to know if you’d be okay with that?“

"Like what? Me cutting vegetables? Me looking at TV? Me sleeping? Sounds like a bad vlog to me..."

Misa’s pout of disbelief made me melt, I’d always found very endearing she really didn’t know a thing about photography. 

I patiently explained, “Of course it sucks if you’re saying it like that. It’s more about capturing an atmosphere, an attitude, a mood. Many photographers do that, especially American ones… Let’s say it's kind of an artistic static vlog, ahah", I added at her still confused look. 

“Vale… when do we start?“

“I’ll grab my camera tomorrow, we could go out for the night, what do you think?“

“Yeah! I’ll pay diner!“ Misa’s eyes shone like they always did when we were planing to meet outside.

“Except if you’d rather go with Toril’s assistant of course?” I teased and we both laughed again.

“No, I don’t think so…”, the goalie leant toward me and start kissing my cheek, then my neck, before coming back to my lips. Bringing her palm to my nap, her kissing intensified with her lips still bearing her fading laugh. Our kiss quickly descended to something needy and rough and I started to loose my head as she put her weight on me to make me lie down on the couch. 

***

Rain was falling but the air was warmer than it had been for weeks. The bus parked at the east side of the stadium of Madrid CFF club. It was going to be an important match in the LigaF championship, and even if Real Madrid were the expecting winner, Madrid CFF had proven before being a tough adversary.

Thus, everybody was focused, headphones on, gazing straight forward and pace steady as they entered the stadium. As the players changed themselves, I headed to the pitch, closely followed by Mariam and Eneko, to set the cameras. We walked around the lawn, looking for the best points of view. I placed myself near a corner, Mariam behind a goalpost and Eneko at the pitch entrance. 

Rain stopped just in time for the warm up to start, before the first spectators had entered. Press was already here, setting their own army of cameras and microphones.

Misa set off to the cage near me, Léa and their trainer in her steps and they wasted no time before doing some passes and saves. I used the training goalkeepers to adjust my presets, lowering shutter speed to the minimum to get the moving bodies really sharp and perfectly frozen.

The sun was now high and bright on that first day of October and I took off my jacket to freshen up. I always wore a navy blue suit with a white shirt during the matches and I relished on lights rays warming the sun deprived skin of my arms. More photographers began to settle around the pitch, a few landing beside me. Misa did a nice catch and my chest swelled with pride. I took a few shots of her, sighing of ease, already longing for our moment alone together later.

The photos were a little too tightly framed and I wondered if I should change to my telephoto lens. I stepped back to take in all the view but my hill bumped against something and I tripped, loosing my balance and falling backward without nothing to hold back. I was even more shocked as my body crashed into something hard, the sound of exploding glass rang loudly in my hears, followed by a piercing pain in my left arm before I fell on the floor. 

Dizziness deafen me a moment, the stranger faces of the photographers coming above me. Pain pulsed hard from where I landed. Stunned, I grasped where my left arm was the most painful and frowned as I felt something warm and wet. I retrieved my hand, my breathing fastening as I discovered my palm red with blood. I swallowed hard. People seemed to talk to me but I felt disconnected, until the panicked face of Misa rushed at my side. My brain didn’t seemed to fully function, I just stared at her, showing my soaked hand and beginning to grasp words in what she was saying.

“… worry, Nicky, I’ll get help!“

“I’m going! you stay with Nicky“, the voice of Léa cut.

I closed my eyes, feeling nauseous, and other voices mixed altogether. I recognized Hayley’s in the middle of it. 

"Qué passa?"

"Oh my god, Nicky!"

"Nicky!"

"Ve a buscar ayuda, déjala!", the goalie’s high pitched alarmed tone made me regain my focus a bit and I dared a look at my left arm. 

It was crimson, blood soaking the sleeve above.

"Nicky, don’t panic, and don’t move." Misa said taking my sticky hand into hers. A part of my brain knew I shouldn’t but my eyes clung to her face like it was the only thing that matter. 

"Misa…"

"Help is coming Nicky!" Hayley’s reassuring voice echoed closed by and I started to fully come back to me.

"What… what happened? My arm…, my back hurts too", pain was becoming more vivid as dizziness faded. 

"You fell onto some kind of glass photo frame or something. There are glass shards everywhere, don’t move", Misa answered.

"Libere el paso, por favor!" A loud man voice resounded.

The brunette wanted to stand up but I hold her hand firmly in mine. “Nicky, let go, you’ll be in good care.” The goalie murmured and I reluctantly loosen my grip. Her large hand slipped away, stained, and both Hayley and Misa pulled back for the medical assistance to reach me. 

Strong arms lifted my body onto a gurney, my face angling to get a glimpse of Misa’s distraught look as the doctors took me away, an hour or less before the kick off.  

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[obxsummer]

Home Sweet Home // Ghost of You

summary below the cut to avoid spoilers for s3 ep3-4

navigation -- series masterlist

--

summary: y/n's quick to remember why she didn't miss her dad, john b can't shoot whiskey, jj has a small family reunion, and the twinkie's back baby.

warnings: mentions of depression, shitty parenting (aka big john), the usual angst

--

It didn’t take long for Singh’s men to catch onto your location. Your dad was quick to direct you and John B out of the church, the three of you heading towards the marina in hopes that the Pogues would still be there with the boat. 

Once your initial run calmed down, John B wanted answers. “Okay, Dad. Start talking. So you’ve been alive this whole time and didn’t think to call?”

“What you think I didn’t want to? It killed me. It would’ve put you two in danger.”

You scoffed, arms crossed over your chest as you followed behind the duo. “Yeah, well, we were in danger the entire time you were gone.”

Your dad stopped walking and turned to you and your brother. “Alright, look. We’re here now, okay? And I’m not going anywhere. I just had to vanish for my safety. And for yours. It wasn’t my first choice. You gotta know that. Now, let’s go find your friends.”

The way your dad aimed his concern more towards John B pulled at your heart. Your whole life, all you wanted was for your dad to pay attention to you, to love you the way he loved your brother. You were stupid to think that would’ve changed during his disappearance. 

John B glanced at you and instantly noticed the expression on your face. You shook your head at him, refusing to get into an argument about this kind of thing right now. Shoes stomping in the grass, you followed silently behind them. Part of you was glad you knew he was alive, but now, you wished you would’ve stayed with JJ to spare yourself of this feeling.

Eventually, the three of you made it to the marina only to see the Pogues had been chased off by Singh.

“Okay, plan b. We take my boat. It’s back at the place. We gotta pick something up there anyway,” Your dad said. 

“Hang on, I gotta call them,” John B clicked around on the phone before putting it to his ear. You took a seat on the ground and placed your head in your hands while your brother told the Pogues to meet him back in Kildare. You wished more than anything that they could’ve stayed, but you didn’t blame them for looking out for their own safety.

“We gotta go.” 

--

The walk wasn’t horrible for  the three of you to locate where your father had been staying, instantly crowding into the small, run-down house.

“Here it is. The Spider Hole. It ain’t much, but it ain’t a bad place to lay low.”

You watched him run around rapidly, refusing to move in any further. “Spider hole. Good name.”

John B busied himself with investigating the kitchen table and the papers spread across it. “Still hunting, huh, Pop?”

“I’m breathing, I’m hunting, man. What can I say?” Your dad said as he stumbled back into the kitchen area. “This time I’m putting it all together, kids. Getting close, I can feel it. Onto something big.”

John B looked over at you for a moment before continuing, “I uh… I heard you died at the Shoals, Dad?”

“Yeah, well. Somebody died out there. It wasn’t me.” You watched as your father dug through a cabinet before grabbing a loaded gun off the kitchen shelf. “Look, just gotta go on a little retrieval mission, then we can split.”

“Okay, whoa, whoa, whoa. Dad, wait.” The sight of a loaded weapon was enough to freak you out. “Retrieval mission? A gun? What- No! What are we doing? I didn’t sign up for this.”

Your dad spun around and placed his hands on your shoulders a little too harshly for your comfort. “The game is afoot. Okay, kid? We gotta go. Right now. And this time it’s for the mother lode, the big kahuna, all the marbles. Alright?”

You looked up at the ceiling as your dad wrapped you into an unpleasant hug as if it would change your mind.

“Come here. It’s good to see you. It is. But if we don’t move out, like, now, the game is gonna end early. It ain’t just Singh that’s after us.” He eventually let you go to finish collecting various items from around the rotting house. “I got mixed up with Limbrey and a whole lot of things.”

“Limbrey?” Your brother caught the name as you did, both of you hating the idea of owing that woman jack-shit. “Like Carla Limbrey?”

“Yeah, how do you think we got a boat?” Your dad snapped back as he walked towards the door as your brother complained. “She helped me out a bit. It’s logistics, etc., but now that I found you, I’m gonna owe her something. Better to pay later than now.”

He walked out, yelling for the two of you to follow over his shoulder. You shared a look with John B, both of you clearly unpleased at how this was going before you gave up and followed regardless. A small lifeboat rested by the shore that would take you over to the larger boat. You were quick to climb out, tying the lifeboat to the larger vessel before ducking inside to get some space.

You could vaguely hear the excited chatter from your brother and father, opting to ignore it instead of looking. You refused to cry about this, not right here where they could see. It felt silly to be so hurt over the past few hours, but it was like this for years before. How could it happen all over again?

“You wanna tell me what’s going on with your sister?” Your dad’s voice was muffled by the glass and structures separating you but it felt like you could hear him loud and clear. 

You could practically feel John B’s eyes on you as you sat quietly. “She’s… she’s been through hell, Dad. Like through shit and back, you wouldn’t believe. It’s been really hard, but um…”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, you haven’t gone through anything short, even goin’ in the ringer for it. That ain’t exactly a walk in the park, boy.”

The first tear was warm on your cheek as the band holding everything together finally snapped. You refused to put up with this belittlement, a competition between you and your own damn brother, over who had more trauma.

John B watched your facade crumble, his heart clenching at the sight. He was already angry with the way you were being treated by your father of all people, but this was getting out of hand. “God, Dad. Can you maybe not be an asshole to her for an hour?”

Without waiting for a response, John B opened the door to the cabin area you were sitting in. You tried not to completely lose it when he embraced you, letting out a shaky breath as tears fell. This felt so pathetic.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry,” He whispered, feeling you shake with sobs when you couldn’t hold it anymore. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it like that.”

Your fingers held John B’s arms that were wrapped around your shoulders, tucking your cheek into his elbow. Grateful didn’t describe how much you appreciated John B, for standing up to the person who meant so much to him. You took a deep breath and hoped the tears would slowly come to a stop eventually. “You know he means every word, JB. Always has.” 

--

John B stayed with you the rest of the relatively short boat ride, leaving your dad to entertain himself as a light form of punishment, not that he would notice. It was getting easier for John B to read you again, the way he used to as kids. He hoped that was a good sign, that maybe you were both healing together. He knew JJ was the only person on your mind right now, that you wanted his best friend more than anything. Shit, John B would love to be with Sarah right now, and he kept reminding himself that you would all be back together here soon regardless.

“What’s the plan, Pops?” John B guided you out of the cabin where your dad was tying the boat to the dock.

“Told you, Bird. Just a little pit stop to get that thing I was telling you about. Then goodbye, Bridgetown. Come on. Back me up.” 

“Alright, let’s make this quick.” John B let you go first, this time opting to stay with you while your dad pulled ahead. The three of you made your way into an old antique shop. The walls were covered in various frames, pedestals decorated with figurines and statues. 

Another voice echoed throughout the house as you barely turned the corner so your dad could give the man in the other room a slight nod. You took the time to observe your surroundings. The building was gorgeous and gave the best old-time feel. You could tell this collection had taken a while to get this large, so clearly the individual had a good eye somewhere. 

“Dad, what are we doing here?” John B asked after the man in the other room said he had an appointment with your father.

“Just got to pick something up. Only take a minute,” Your dad dismissed your brother and instead turned his attention to the man entering the room. “RJ.”

“John.” RJ returned the small nod and beckoned your group into the small office. “Please come.”

RJ stood by the large desk in the room, his face unreadable as he acknowledged your dad. “So, what are you doing here, John? What do you want?”

The sound of the gun cocking elicted a noise of protest lost in your throat. Why was everyone so quick to pull guns around here? John B grabbed the strap of the silk tank top you were still wearing and tugged you back away from the two men. 

“Sorry for the strong arm, RJ, but we’re pressed for time. I can’t get bogged down in a protracted negotiation.”

RJ didn’t seem phased by your dad’s actions and turned to the safe behind him to start drilling a code in. “Really? You pull a gun on me? Your partner who saved your life?”

“If you knew what happened with my last partner, you wouldn’t hold it against me,” Your dad replied. He was practically foaming at the mouth to get whatever RJ had in that safe. 

“Armed robbery?” John B whispered from next to you, surprised that your father would take it to these lengths. You, however, knew this was right up his alley. 

Big John scoffed. “It’s not robbery. The piece is mine, ain’t that right, RJ?”

The safe clicked unlocked and RJ swung the door open to retrieve whatever it is that you came for. “I think an impartial judge would say the ownership is debatable.” He set a large stone wrapped in a towel down on the table.

“Oh, great.” John B’s sarcasm wasn’t missed by you. 

“As you can see, I kept my part of the bargain, partner. Here it is safe and sound. Just like I promised.”

Your dad was quick to unravel the item wrapped in the towel before holding it out towards you and John B. “Here, kids. Take a look at this. The Signpost of Orinoco. Next stop, El Dorado.”

The stone had patterns carved into it, the top looking like the head of some sort. You weren’t really sure what you were looking at, but it seemed it was only half of the true object. 

“Yeah, if you can find the other half and if you can decipher it, maybe.” RJ confirmed your suspicion. “And I’m going to want my cut. Don’t think I won’t come after you if I don’t get it.”

“If this thing works out, you’ll never have to sell a knockoff God of Fire and War again.”

“Arjun! Are you here?”

The new voice to the conversation was a little too familiar for you liking. You turned to John B with wide eyes as RJ excused himself from the room and told you not to move. 

“John B, we need to go,” You kept your voice low as you grabbed onto your brother’s shirt sleeve. “That’s Singh, and I don’t know about you, but I am not going with-”

“Shh.” John B placed his hands on your shoulders as RJ called Singh’s name in the other room, confirming your thoughts. “Okay, we need to go. Right now.”

Your dad shoved the stone piece into your brother’s hands, directing the two of you towards the window in the room. John B placed the piece down on a wooden pedestal before boosting you up to unlatch the window. You grabbed the wiring off, your dad cursing at you for the noise, before you were pushed up and crawled out as quietly as possible. 

“Shit!” You slipped into the wooden boxes and bags of garbage below the window ungracefully, managing to move just seconds before your brother came tumbling out behind you. Stumbling to your feet, you brushed imaginary dirt from your clothing and watched as your dad climbed out the window. 

“Where’s the piece?” Your dad was practically glaring at you as if you were the one at fault.

You moved your hand toward the window. “John B set it down so we could get the window open! We thought you had it.”

“No, no, no, no,” John B cursed as your dad threw himself back into the window to retrieve the stone piece. It took a shaky minute before he leaned back out with the towel barely in grasp. “Come on, we gotta go.”

You ducked as a gun fired nearby, the three of you breaking into a sprint to get as far away as you could. The marina was thankfully close so you didn’t have to go very far. John B was quick to untie everything while you jumped on, taking the piece from your dad so he could start the boat. 

You looked back to see ATVs rush up to the dockside just after you had pushed off, Singh’s men no doubt watching your every move. You let out a deep sigh once they were out of view, your racing heart finally getting the chance to calm down. This nonstop treasure hunting was getting the best out of you and for once, you just wished you could sit at home and do nothing for weeks on end. 

After getting settled on a course hopefully back to OBX, your dad was rushing to take the piece from your possession and hide it somewhere on the boat. You couldn’t care less at that point and settled down at the small table in hopes to keep the calm until you got back to the Chateau. 

Soon enough, John B joined you and your dad took the seat across from him, slamming a bottle of whiskey down on the table. You let out a breath, definitely not in the mood for their antics but not having the energy to tell them no. 

Your dad surprisingly grabbed three shot glasses and filled them before sliding one to you and John B each. “To life, living, and the pursuit of treasure.”

You were quick to throw your drink back, enjoying the burn it left in your throat but remaining stoic as you did. Your dad laughed as John B winced. “Never thought I’d see the day where my daughter could take a drink better than her brother. How times have changed.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled your feet up to rest on the chair with you. If only that stupid ass phone had service and you could call JJ, you would feel a lot better. 

“So, what’s the deal with this whole big kahuna thing?” John B asked as he slid his glass back to the middle of the table. “I mean, how’d you ended up on Barbados?”

“Well, same way you did and for the same reason too. The treasure. And Carlos Singh. I was marooned out on the Shoals for what felt like months, living on seaweed and sweat and rainwater, and fixed myself up to be crab food. Thought I was a goner. Singh must’ve tracked my boat, then his men showed up. He must’ve known I was onto something because they found me. At first, I thought I was being rescued, turns out it was less of a rescue mission, more of a captivity-type deal. I didn’t go without a fight. We left one of his men behind, as I’m sure you’ve heard. Next thing I know, I’m being shipped off to Barbados.

“Singh’s place. They locked me up in some audacious estate surrounded by cane fields and armed guards. I meet this particular little man, Singh. He wants to cuta  deal with me, he wants me to tell him everything I know in exchange for him keeping me alive. It didn’t take long before I caught on to the game. So as soon as I had the chance I took it. Got a little roughed up along the way, but I made it out. And not empty handed. And here I am, back with my kids.”

You knew all too well your dad’s experience with Singh, ironic that both of yours were so similar. A small envelope of silence took over before you tapped John B’s shoulder. “Can I have the phone?”

Your brother didn’t hesitate to dig it out of his pocket and hand it over. He knew that you were smart enough to guess it wouldn’t work, but he didn’t blame you for wanting to try. You were quick to unlock the device and go to messages, the most recent one the conversation with the phone the other Pogues had.

J? You there?

You held your breath, hoping that it would go through even if you were stuck this far out in the ocean. A sigh left you when the Message Not Delivered popped up with a red exclamation point. Well, at least you tried.

“Enough about me. I want to hear about you two,” Your dad spoke up again as he poured more liquor into the glasses in front of you. “Who you sweet on these days, huh?”

You snorted at the way he phrased his sentence, pulling the attention on you. “Sorry, sorry. Just didn’t expect that to be your first question, that’s all.”

Your dad sat back in his chair and looked at you. “I know there must be someone, especially if you’re that desperate to message them from a stolen phone.”

You tucked the phone into your lap and let your arms rest on your knees. “I mean, yeah. There’s been a lot that happened, obviously. For both of us.”

“I’m married, Dad.”

It took everything in you not to laugh at the way John B just blurted the news. As much as you loved Sarah’s relationship with your brother, it felt weird to hear them talk about it in that way, no matter how much you heard it. 

“You’re joking, right?” Your dad chuckled, his expression dropping when John B disagreed. “What is she pregnant?”

“No, no. God, no. No,” John B was quick to deny that suspicion. “I haven’t really had time for the extracurricular activities.”

“Oh, my God!” You groaned. “Can we maybe not discuss that part of it?” John B hid a smile, his hand smacking your leg as he joked with you. If someone would’ve told you a week ago that you’d be listening to your brother deny his sex life to your dad, you would’ve laughed in their face.

“You’re a little young, aren’t you?”

Your brother shrugged. “I mean, you said it best. If it’s right, it’s right.”

“Do I know her? Uh, who is she?” Big John asked. 

You glanced at John B, wondering how he was going to talk his way out of this one. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, you know her. Um…” He took a moment to take the shot in front of him, obviously needing it for the conversation ahead. “It’s Sarah. Cameron.”

A tense silence followed his revelation, your dad taking off his glasses to look at your brother. “Ward’s daughter? The queen of Kildare.”

“Yeah.”

“You just can’t do things the easy way, can you?” Your dad shot back. You glanced between him and John B, hating the fact that your father thought he had an opinion on what the two of you did and who you did it with, after everything he’d put you through.

“Are you mad?” John B sounded scared to hear the answer.

Your dad crossed his arms and leaned against the table. “That you went for the big prize? Nah. How could I be mad at that?” He poured your brother another shot before raising their glasses together and drinking the contents. “And what about you, Baby Bird? I got another Kook with you, too?”

You shook your head and tucked your arms in around yourself. “No, Dad. No Kooks for me. Promise.” You felt the phone suddenly vibrate in your lap, all of your attention directly going to it. A new message notification flashed back at you. “It’s JJ.”

“Maybank?” 

You ignored your dad’s shocked tone and opened the phone to see the message that had come through. Right here babe. You okay? A sigh of relief expelled the tension from your body knowing that he was still there, however far away.

“Hey, talk to me.”

You looked back up at your father to see his puzzled expression directed at you. “Yes, Maybank.”

He chuckled, that you saw coming. “Well, boy was always looking out for you as kids. Can’t say I’m surprised about that one.”

The conversation about your love lives died there, John B taking the time to fill in the odds and ends. He left out the parts of the story that were yours to tell, not that you thought you’d ever share them with your dad, but you appreciated that he gave you that option. 

The rest of your boat ride passed uneventfully with you sending scattered texts to JJ while your dad and John B conversed with the whiskey bottle. Before you knew it, the sun was coming up and the familiar OBX breeze was blowing across your skin. You were so excited to get the hell out of here and back into your bed.

“I gotta admit, it’s good to be back.”

For once, you agreed with your dad’s words as you finished helping John B tie the boat down. The two of you stood under the covered dock, watching as your dad cheered and ran towards the house. 

You caught your brother looking out over the horizon. “You okay?”

He nodded, redirecting his attention to you. “Just didn’t think this would happen again, you know? That we’d all be together.”

You didn’t know what to say in return, just opting to nod back to him before starting up the path to the Chateau. There was nothing more on your mind than to find JJ and your friends. You hoped they were back, safe and sound.

While your brother and dad shared a moment by John B’s homemade headstone, you walked back into your home for the first time in God knows how long. Flicking the lightswitch, you sighed when nothing happened, figuring the power shut off after the bills lingering for weeks to months. Using the flashlight on the phone, you tried to navigate as best as possible into your room.

As comfy as the silk pajamas were that you’d been wearing, one of JJ’s oversized t-shirts was much more your style as you grabbed it from your drawer. The amount of your friends’ clothing that was scattered around your house was comedic at this point. You managed to find a pair of shorts to slide on before making your way back to the porch where your dad and brother were entering. 

You occupied yourself reorganizing the bits of the Chateau that had gotten mixed up in the chaos before you guys all left. John B helped a bit where he could while your dad busied himself in his destroyed office after bitching about that too. 

The house began to cool off as the sun went in, you and John B settling on opposite ends of the porch couch while your dad crashed on the inside pullout. Your rooms were way too hot to do anything else since there wasn’t any air circulation. 

“I don’t know why in the hell you would wanna sleep on the porch couch when it’s so much cooler in here,” Your dad groaned as he settled into the worn cushions.

You didn’t have the energy to answer him, John B replying back, “Yeah, it’s hot tonight.”

“Especially with no electricity,” Your dad continued to complain, “You didn’t think to pay the bill?”

“It’s not like we were stranded on a deserted island for a month or anything,” You mumbled back, eyes closing as you curled into the pillow you were holding. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s an excuse.”

A moment of silence followed, the background being filled by the nearby insects that were slowly but surely soothing you to sleep. These were your favorite kinds of nights, especially when you were a kid. You, John B, and JJ would sit in the hammock for hours to see who could catch the most lightning bugs until you eventually ended up in a sleeping cuddle puddle. 

“Hey, you… you kids know where that diary is, right?”

The thought of Singh following you here in search of the diary sent a chill down your spine. You and Rafe skimmed out under his nose. No doubt he’d be pissed that he didn’t get what he wanted. 

“Well, we have a copy. And it’s in the Twinkie, which is probably in the impound lot with the police. Gotta figure that one out,” Your brother explained, shifting where his feet dug into your back. 

You fell asleep shortly later, the warm air and the sounds of home comforting enough to lull you. There was no way to tell how much time had passed when you woke up again, this time with the sun creeping up and your brother absolutely nailing you in the side with his knee. 

“Ow, fuck, John B,” You groaned as you tried to shift out of his way before getting kicked again. You sat up to shove him only to watch as he flinched again, completely sound asleep. “John B, wake up.”

You sat up, sparing a quick glance to see your dad missing form the inside couch, to no surprise. Attention shifting to your brother, you shook his arm slightly. “Wake up.”

Your efforts were to no avail. Suddenly, the screen door creaked open making you jump. To your surprise, an exhausted Sarah Cameron stepped in, her eyes lighting up when she saw you. You hopped off the couch in a second, bringing her into a tight hug. “Oh, God. Hi.”

“Hi,” She squeezed you tightly before her gaze moved to where your brother was still shifting on the couch. “Everything okay?”

You nodded and let go of her to take a step back. “I think he’s having a nightmare.”

She put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “I got him. Go clean up.”

You took one last glance at your brother before doing what she said. Making a beeline for the bathroom, you thanked your previous self for paying the water bill ahead so you at least had a way to shower and brush your teeth. Granted, it was freezing, but it was better than nothing. 

Clean clothes felt so much better than you expected. Your stomach grumbled, begging for some kind of meal, to which you wished you had an answer.

You stepped back into the kitchen the moment John B started yelling out for your dad. You glanced over at the window to see them looking at the empty pull out and then over to you. Your brother got to his feet a moment later, walking outside to look for your father. 

You rejoined Sarah on the couch. “How was your trip back?”

She shrugged, leaning her elbow against the back of the couch to support herself. “Uneventful. Kiara and I talked most of the time, JJ drove, and Pope and Cleo took turns with him. Stole some food, and that was about it.” Sarah looked over at you, seemingly reading your thoughts. “JJ’s coming back. Said he would drop them off and be here.”

You gave her a grateful smile as John B stomped back inside. “I swear he was just here.”

You shook your head at his worried nature. “It’s Dad, John B. I don’t know why you’re surprised he’s not here.”

Sarah glanced between the two of you, hoping that you were actually right about your father returning. Based on your brother’s chaotic nature, she was almost worried he had truly lost it, but your calm response told her all she needed to know. 

“Hell, I wouldn’t blame you for that either.” Your dad’s voiced echoed around the house at the perfect time. He climbed the stairs a moment later with his backpack slung over his shoulder. “Hello, Sarah.”

Sarah’s jaw practically dropped at the sight before her as she walked forward to give your dad a hug as he beckoned her in. “Come on Sarah. Or should I say Mrs. Routledge.”

Your rolled your eyes at his attempt at a joke as he welcomed her to the family. John B, on the other hand, was very unpleased. “Where the hell did you go?”

His question was left unanswered as Big John brought both of them in for a hug. You glanced away, eyes following the path of the dock. It felt like one of those cheesy scenes in every movie: your favorite person walking towards you with this glow behind them. You took off before anyone had a chance to ask what you were doing. 

JJ’s smile was warm the second he caught sight of you. He paused in his approach, arms opening wide for you to leap into so he could catch you the way he always did. When it came to knowing you, loving you, JJ was the only one who did the best. “There she is, I gotcha.”

You pulled back, kissing his nose lightly as you took him in. “Hi.”

“Hi, pretty girl.” He returned your gesture, kissing your forehead before pulling you close to his chest again. “You okay?”

You nodded against him, fingers moving to the bottom of his shirt to sneak beneath, needing to feel his skin against yours. He was warm to the touch, your chilly fingers sending goosebumps across his body, but he stayed silent know that you both needed it. 

“Well, I’ll be damned. Is that who I think it is?”

JJ visibly reacted to your dad’s voice calling out for him. He looked down at you in shock to see your knowing smile before you released him. He took off down the dock, colliding with your dad at full speed as they laughed. The sight brought a smile to your face, glad that your little Pogue family may actually have a chance at changing this path you’d been on. 

Your boyfriend stepped back after a moment to tackle your brother next. The two playfully shoved each other, roughousing as you stepped off the wooden platform back into the grass. JJ didn’t hesitate to join you, arms pulling you back against his chest so he could keep you close.

“Oh shit, this is the best day ever.”

“Where’d Sarah go?” You accidentally spoke over JJ’s excitement, noticing the lack of your friend. 

“Went back to Tannyhill to steal some clothes and maybe find a phone,” John B explained with a shrug. “Told her to be back around 6.”

Your dad suddenly dipped off without a word, leaving the three of you to look at him in confusion. You shook your head, dismissing his odd behavior as you turned to the boy behind you. “Did you go home?”

He winced at the question, his teeth biting at his lip for a moment before he stopped. “Yeah, big ole eviction notice on the door. Snuck in through the window but no electric or water so, you know how that goes.”

“Shit,” You sighed and tucked yourself against his chest again. “Sorry, Jayj.”

The sound of a car engine distracted your conversation as the three of you looked to see the Twinkie being pulled out of the forest line. John B moved first, shocked that this is actually where your dad had gone earlier without saying. 

“Brought an old friend to see you,” Big John said as he hopped out of the van. 

“Where’d you get this?” You asked as you and JJ came to a stop a few feet away from the vehicle. 

“The impound lot, where do you think?”

John B moved closer to rest his hand on the front end. “Where do I think? Um, I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out why you didn’t say when Sarah was here.”

Your dad’s lack of response said everything. He didn’t trust Sarah the way you all had grown to. He didn’t know what she had been put through, all her family had done to her.

“Dad, seriously?” You chastised him as he gave you guys a knowing look. “She’s not her father.”

“Hey, this is supposed to be just the three of us,” He defended as he tossed his hands in the air like he didn’t just completely ignore JJ’s presence next to you. 

John B groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “Okay, well. Did you at least find the diary?”

“Yeah, I found the diary all right. It was a big pile of mush. The window was left down, it got rained on. You could’ve shut the window.”

JJ raised his hand next to you. “Yeah that was probably my bad. Sorry, Big John.”

John B looked away from your dad. “Okay, well, there were some complications. I wasn’t planning on being gone that long.”

Your dad was unamused by the so-called excuses and called for you and John B to get in the car. “We’ll be back later, JJ. Group catch-up, all of us.”

You hesitated for a moment, watching as John B grabbed a sticky pad and a pen out of the Twinkie glove box, prepared to go with your dad after. You, however, weren’t so sure. You glanced at JJ to see him looking right back at you, waiting for your decision.

“Um, Dad,” You spoke up as John B pressed the note against the side door. “I think I’m gonna sit this one out.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that your father didn’t blink an eye at your choice. “Fine by me, Y/N. We’ll do this ourselves and get you later.”

JJ’s hand grabbed your shoulder but you shrugged him off to catch up with John B before he climbed back in. “Whatever he does, whatever he makes you do, you better come back, you hear me?” You poked his chest sternly. “I’m serious, John B. I think he’s in a little too far to see clearly.”

Your brother nodded in agreement, sparing a quick glance over to the person in question. “I know, I will. Be careful, okay?”

You two shared a quick hug, JJ coming over to run through a handshake with your brother before you watched as the Twinkie pulled away. You let out a deep sigh once it disappeared from view. JJ was in front of you a moment later, his calloused hands on your cheeks. “You wanna tell me what the hell happened?”

You chuckled and grabbed his hand off your cheek to pull him towards the house. “Babe, do I have a story for you.”

--

tags: @strawberryfolks @jinxfirebolt18902 @lnnlove@itsmytimetoodream @dazzlingnights @ifilwtmfc @itsmytimetoodream @multiifandomhoe

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[mariamariquinha]

True Blue (Gurney Halleck x f!reader) - part 2

Part 1

Summary: You got back to Caladan for good.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: I still don’t know shit about Dune universe. Sorry. This is still REALLY experimental. Other than that, nothing to worry about here.

Author’s Note: I’m still in a thing for Josh Brolin and since the new material of Dune 2, this got worse. Gimme traumatized men. 

This is the end of the line for Gurney though, at least here. Writing for him was an amazing experience!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

---------------------

Nefertari hugged you firmly, which was always impressive from how delicate people assumed she was. Well, indeed, the girl held herself with such femininity - anyone would guess this façade transcended to her physicality. She had strong hands, large hips to sustain healthy heirs.

You would miss her.

When the news of the marriage came to be a thing, Lady Holda received a letter that made her give you a side glance, then an order for a particular reunion to discuss the matter. You thought, perhaps, that she could be still weighing her options towards your companion, and you were right. It was the first thing that left her mouth that night.

“Recently, though, I’ve been informed that your presence might be required for a political position. For our planet, of course, but not here.”

“If not here… where?”

“Caladan.”

Later on, during other discussions that would proceed the information and secretive way Lady Holda insisted on maintain towards the matter, you’d come to know that it was a personal advice from Lady Jessica herself to the Duke, less of a courtesy from the friendly partnership between families and more of a conscious strategy (as was said in these same future conversations).

You just knew for sure your new capacities when, during a visit from House Atreides, Lady Jessica requested a much less politicized private conversation; with Nefertari's permission, the two of you sat at the table in her guest room and drank tea.

“I assume that Lady Holda mentioned my suggestion for you,” She said mid sips, eyes wary while watching you fiddle with the cup in your hands.

“She did.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

Again, you had the feeling that she was testing you, using the right words and the right questions, planning her analysis. She had that in her, a passiveness calm with a lot to say but enough control to prevent an unnecessary waste of time. You didn’t think, for a single moment, that she would want to be your friend; after all, it was her suggestion, and she wanted to be sure of it.

“... Surprised,” You took a small sip of the tea, unpleased by the taste, but averting your gaze for more than to hide your discontent.

“Not shocked.” Lady Jessica pointed out.

“I was expecting a move since the proposal. Couldn’t have guessed that it would come from Caladan.”

“Any particular reason?”

The letter Gurney had written, at that point more than a year old from its delivery, was still fresh in your mind, as well as safely tucked away in your chambers. For some reason, you kept that secret as something to feel, the hope that one day, when Nefertari was gone, you could follow a path that would lead you to something as warm and gentle as that.

You didn't consider that maybe he brought it up to someone during that time; judging by the way Lady Jessica stared at you, giving her a barely perceptible crooked smile, you were afraid that it would finally take shape and interfere with a friendly farewell with House Kio. Your face burned in embarrassment. She must’ve known about the whole thing, even if there wasn’t a lot to see.

“Lady Holda is still reticent about the invitation,” With the same low tone she used to start the topic, she mentioned a subtle change. “Says you could have more value here, perhaps in another position. I’m yet to see your talent with music as she so much said.”

“I believe this is a statement on this planet.” You smiled a little, which made her tilt her head to the side - the slight reference of amusement.

“Maybe.” Was all she said for a moment, measuring your crouched and shy posture discreetly.

You two shared the rest of the tea in silence, the talk about the planet being more persistent than anything related to you. Soon, there would be a dinner for her and the Duke, so no one could waste any more time circling such serious themes.

Still, when you were at the door, Lady Jessica said something you wouldn’t forget for days.

“Some of the members of our House will see the news with good eyes. Be sure that, whatever the answer may be, you’ve made quite an impression.”

“I can say the same about them.”

And you hoped, with all vigor, that it still included Gurney.

------------------------

“At least you’ll keep in contact? I wanna know everything,” Nefertari grabbed both of your cheeks, the party of her wedding long forgotten behind the big doors that separated the corridor where you both shared your goodbyes.

“Of course I will. And you, I hope.”

“You know me. I wouldn’t be able to keep my mind in peace now that I’ll lose you.”

“But you’ll have a prominent husband - soon, beautiful heirs as well. I’m sure you’ll be fine without me.”

From afar, Lady Holda kept still, face skeptical while watching the scene. When her daughter hugged you again, you could see her on the verge of impatience, indicating that this should end soon.

The decision of making everything almost hidden was from Nefertari’s father. Being a very reserved man, he recognized that even if it was a good trade, the attention shouldn’t be turned to a dramatic scene instead of the wedding - he knew his daughter well. Your belongings were organized and ready to go for weeks, away from the preparations of the then soon-to-be bride, so the expectations were rational. At the beginning, you should’ve left after the party, but Lady Holda held a touch of her dissatisfaction with her husband’s decision to let you go and made it as quickly as she could.

“I better get going, Nefertari. They are waiting for me,” Against your better judgment, you got away from her embrace, taking two small steps back and preventing any tears from spilling out of your eyes while looking at her mother.

Truthfully, you didn’t know if anyone would be waiting, indeed, for you. While on the way, watching Chusuk disappear from your view, you felt apprehensive, then anxious. Of course Caladan had been a welcoming place, beautiful from its depths and diplomatic towards other planets you had the chance to see - still, you couldn’t calm your heart, ponder around the idea that from that moment on, you would be by yourself.

You thought of Gurney. Would he still be there, remembering your little and fast moments together, drinking in the same imaginative feelings? You wondered, hands gripping your dress, if he would share those shy glances again, if he was married, if he decided to just be professional since you were there for another capacity. You wondered if you two would see each other often or not at all, if he could play something nice - if you would be allowed to such a pleasantry.

Yes, you really thought of Gurney. You yearned for those same dreams and memories of him.

And as much as you loved Nefertari, you felt more comfort knowing that, somehow, that man would be a regular occurrence.

------------------------

You didn’t see him for the first two weeks. It sounded… fair, even if not pleasant. You weren’t so free of time like you were before, the sides of the castle you started to visit weren't the best ones, the parts dedicated to the visits. The reception was less warm than the first time, limited to bureaucracy matters and none of the Duke’s inner circle.

They gave you instructions, medical surveillance and clothes that you should wear. You would take care of one Chusuk’ diplomat schedule, almost the same duty you did to Nefertari, but with more political terms and less beautiful gowns. Those clothes, which were skirts and shirts and pants in neutral tones, were specially designed to make you a part, but not a full picture. It was… natural, for you. Easy.

During those two weeks, you resisted the urge to ask about Gurney. Too early, maybe, or too suspicious in a way. You didn’t want to get under the impression that you were disrespecting your new duties or your determination to learn more. This diplomat, named Donkor Ziad, soon presented himself as a great friend of House Kio and you two recognized each other just as fast. It should make you more at ease, and it did, but Donkor Ziad wasn’t as magnetic as Gurney; not enough to make you forget the man.

“What are you thinking of your stay so far?”

You could’ve just guessed that your presence at that dinner was, at best, arranged as a formal condition. There were a few other members from the politics, a small participation for something you couldn’t quite catch, and perhaps Lady Jessica found the best moment to speculate about your presence. You looked at her, then around, as if having a deja vu from your first time on the planet.

“Pleasant. Donkor Ziad is a good tutor.”

“And your house? Is it any of your likings?”

There was a part of him, a sensitive and modest part of him, that recognized her intentions in being so succinct with her questions. Surely she wasn't so worried about you, such an insignificant person in an inferior position, but something that could have been on her mind since your visit so long ago. You considered asking. Knowing enough about the Bene Gesserit, you thought it might be disrespectful to act suspiciously, so you limited yourself to a nod and a coy smile.

“Of course.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

She didn’t mention that your house was close to the military buildings, where most of the soldiers lived, nor that their training could bother you somehow. It didn’t honestly; you always woke up wishing you would have the luck to see Gurney somehow.

Then you sensed it; the presence. He wasn’t one to wear strong fragrances, but his presence itself could be known just by his aura. You turned slightly to your left side and… And Gurney was there.

He was just the same as you remembered. Stern, indeed, but with a warm gaze directed to certain privileged people - the same ones who would have his voluntary attention. Magnetic from the way he stood there, watching your face with surprise and some sort of admiration, probably with the same reaction as you. Your cheeks were warm; your hands, both holding a cup of a drink, gripped the object with a nervous strength.

“... Warmaster Halleck.” You said first, suddenly aware that you’d been watched. Gurney blinked a few times, cleared his throat and averted his gaze to look at Lady Jessica before turning to you again.

“Good evening.”

And he bowed his head respectfully, eyeing the extension of your chest and face while coming back to a firm stance. Just after that, you noticed Duke Leto coming closer, and that seemed like your sign to distance yourself. You saluted him, Lady Jessica; when you gave two steps back, ready to withdraw your presence, you could see Gurney extending his hand discreetly, as if searching for you, before recoiling again.

Your heart sank inside your chest, your fingers tingled with desire to touch him and your mouth went dry at the thought of saying so many things, of being able to choose the same words he chose to confess an adoration you also had for him. Still had, yes.

He watched you go from afar, your feet heavy and eyes weeping with emotion.

For the first time since your arrival, you felt the delusional feeling that you’d found what was missing inside those walls or beautiful landscapes or receptive people or rich culture.

Caladan wasn’t the same without Gurney.

------------------------

He was outside your house, later that night. Ready to sleep, you saw him right after changing into your nightgown, standing a few steps away from your front yard (still in need of a human touch). The tip of your fingers touched unconsciously the strap of your clothes and you considered the man for a moment too long.

When you opened the door, Gurney blinked without reaction. When you took a step back, silently letting him in, he came cautiously, the uniform reflecting in the moonlight just as beautifully as his face.

No one said anything after he entered your house and closed the door. You two eyed each other, measured your faces again as if taking everything in, and your body shivered when he raised that same hand from before, this time not resisting his urges to touch you. It was subtle, discreet - he brushed the fabric covering your belly, made you whimper without thinking.

“Are you real?” Gurney got closer, eyes wandering every inch of your body now, openly admiring a not so modest view. You knew the fabric stuck on your skin, the evidence of your excitement more evident now that he was there.

You should feel ashamed, but you couldn’t. It was like he was meant to see you like that, bare and open for him to see.

“I am,” You managed to say, whispering, finger closing around his. “I am real.”

The first kiss was brief, but enough to make you lose the stability of your knees. With soft lips and the delicate brush of his goatee on your face, Gurney didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your body weakened by the sensation and pull you close. His palm splayed the extension of your nude back, the feeling of his calloused skin touching your sensitive one making you grip his arms firmly.

“We should wait,” His voice was rough against your lips, a small warning when you opened your mouth to receive him more warmly.

“Wait for what?” You asked, dissatisfied with having already waited so long for that and afraid of not having it anymore.

Gurney raised his head, opened his eyes and smiled.

“For you to become my wife.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, nor could process what he just said to you. Marriage, he said, the consummation of what you could only describe as love. And he was there, smiling, daring to ask you if you were real when you said words so full of meaning. Gurney was fulfilling a dormant dream of making you his.

“Soon?”

“There isn't a time close enough to satisfy my heart's desire to make this all ours,” But instead of any affectionate expression, his face fell in sadness. You frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I should have said something sooner, gone after you before you could leave again. Deep down, I knew you were… It was you and… All I did was write a letter. I was a coward.”

“You filled my heart with so much hope, Gurney. A coward wouldn’t do that, not with me. You are certainly someone I would spend the rest of my life with.”

He was a man with so many scars, fears and experiences of a lifetime of pain. Nothing in the universe, you wanted to say, would make you believe that a man like him, with all the right to be a menace, a monster, decided to choose you that easily, someone who wouldn’t have much to offer than pure devotion and a joy of an unexpected love that transformed you so much.

Yes, you wanted to say all of this, but instead of a stumble of words, instead of trying to be just as delicate and dedicated as him, you kissed him again. Truthfully. And when you started to touch the buttons of his uniform again, he didn’t stop you.

“I’m yours. I want you to have me like this.”

-------------------------------

[booburry]

I wanted to share, for those who may not go over to Ao3 or who prefer to read fics here, a scene from my latest chapter. Aesop/Female OC (Maeve Thistlespring)

Definitely NSFW towards to end of the post below.

Setup: Maeve is on her way to the 5 year reunion of her Hogwarts graduation class. She RSVP's with her on & off guy Simon Diggory, dreading to be alone in a carriage with him, however she is pleased when another joins for the ride.

The carriage door opened and a tall man entered, his top hat obscuring his face but Maeve could see he was exquisitely dressed—no way it was Simon. His suit was perfectly tailored, alluding to a lean and muscular frame. There was fine silver embroidery along the cuffs and lapels of his dark green suit. The man finally looked up to greet her when he immediately stopped.

It only took a moment for Maeve to go from feeling like a temptress to the shocked little eleven-year-old girl when she saw Aesop, now a man, walking into her carriage. His eyes flicked below her eyes before instantly returning to hers, a blush rising to his cheeks. His bashful hesitance reminded Maeve of her intent for the night.

“It’s okay, men are allowed in the same carriage as women—in case you weren’t aware, Mr. Sharp.” She gave a short smile before licking it away and biting her lower lip. All he had to do was smile in return as he took off his hat, releasing his luscious, thick, wavy hair, to make her body hot.

“Lady Thistlespring.” He greeted, matching her jest of the first time they met.

“Aesop, hurry up!” Simon called out from behind before Aesop was shoved into the carriage. He composed himself before sitting in the furthest corner of the carriage from Maeve, his intelligent eyes watching her intently. Simon rushed in after to glance at Maeve and instantly scowled. “Oh this is going to be great…” He muttered as he slowly went to take the only spot left, which was next to the window but directly across from Maeve.

She didn’t even pay attention to him, her eyes fixed on Aesop. His hair rested on his shoulders, longer than the ear length he kept it at during school. He also seemed to have grown into his features more; his large nose, protruded brow and defined jaw. He was far more handsome than she remembered or could imagine him becoming.

He also seemed to have a confident smolder to him, a daring gaze and charm that definitely hadn’t been there when they were students. She felt drunk just staring at him.

The carriage door slammed shut and took off from the ground once more, bringing Maeve and Aesop from their heated and silent stares. Simon cleared his throat intentionally.

“Are there thestrals pulling the cart?” She asked Aesop slowly as she tried to focus on appearing to breath naturally.

“Yes.” He confirmed, squinting curiously at her. “You can’t see them?” He hopefully asked.

“No.” She told him, a relieved laugh coming from his chest as he leaned back into his seat. “Don’t worry, I am still a delicate, innocent, flower.” She playfully said, slightly repositioning herself to accentuate her alluring features.

“You can’t be living that innocently.” He teased in return, leaning forward, a light press of his brow as his eyes darkened with hunger. Maeve gave out a short laugh, shocked by his reaction and how it made her feel. She forcing herself to look elsewhere to better steady herself.

“It’s nothing like the life of sin I would have lived with you, I’m sure.” She smiled as she blushed so deeply she saw her chest go bright red. Maeve had frequently found herself thinking of the possible intimate moments she could have with Aesop. She would never admit it to anyone, but even in times when she had been with Simon, in the dark or with her eyes closed, she would image it was him.

Feeling guilty for her actions, both past and present, Maeve glanced at Simon to see him looking absolutely miserably out of the window. Maeve cleared her throat and brought her body back into a stiff position, her leg tucked under the other, her hands laying lightly in her lap—as if they were floating.

“Sorry Simon.” Aesop muttered, seemingly finding himself doing as Maeve did, and taking the third person stuck in this carriage with them into account.

“At least just tell me I was right!” Simon grumbled in response.

Although Maeve wasn’t looking at him, she knew he was talking to her. She quickly glanced at Aesop, who was watching Simon studiously before catching her gaze; the motion sucking the breath from her lungs.

“You were right.” She managed to say, her heart beating against her chest as she had to, once again, look away from him. Merlin, she needed to get out of this carriage.

Tension filled the space quickly. Simon’s tension with the both of them was nothing but hostile, however the tension Maeve felt when looking at Aesop was nothing but longing and lust. They sat in silence for a long time, Maeve refraining from speaking in fear she would speak what was on her mind; which would be cruel and unfair to Simon. But her longing glances with Aesop were frequent as the time past.

She watched as his body tensed with each look, his eyes moving as if he tried to speak his intentions. Many times they traced over her body, lingering on certain places. Maeve smiled as she saw Aesop shift his posture, notably adjusting his pant fabric, so he could remain comfortable despite growing desires. He cleared his throat while he tried, horribly, to cover a knowing smile. Maeve turned her glance and brought her hand to her face to hide from Simon the scarlet she turned.

“Could you pass me a drink?” Aesop grumbled, his voice strained with every word. Maeve nodded, rolling her lips inward to stop another smile from growing. She reached for a glass but Simon immediately swatted it away.

“I’ll get it.” He told her in a displeased tone, but his hand was snatched immediately by Aesop, who then threw Simon against the back of the carriage, causing it to go off balance for a moment.

“Everything okay back there?” The valet called out from outside.

“Fine! How long until we arrive?” Simon yelled back, glaring at Aesop.

“Quarter of an hour.” He called back, the news of the trip almost ending seemingly calming Simon until Aesop was in his face.

“You do not treat a lady in such manner, so you understand Diggory?” His voice was a deep, threatening, rumble. Watching him felt very much like a predator over it’s prey, Simon cowering against the soft suede fabric of the carriage couches. Satisfied that Simon took his threat seriously, Aesop turned to kneel in front of Maeve, his moves controlled enough to not offset their mode of transportation. Gently he gripped her hand, as a gentleman would to a lady, and brought it closer to his face.

“Are you okay?” He asked her, quickly glancing at her before softly gracing her hand with his lips.

“Yes, thank you.” She smiled before withdrawing her hand to get him his requested beverage.

“Can you at least not do that in front of me?” Simon groaned but didn’t bother moving.

“Think of it as punishment for your poor choices, Diggory. Someone had to make sure she was unharmed, and it wasn’t going to be you.” He growled again, sitting back in his seat before accepting the poured drink from Maeve. He gave her a soft nod and insatiable smile that sent a warm shiver down her spine, heat growing between her legs.

The moment they landed, Simon bolted from the carriage and headed for the castle, not saying a word to either Aesop or Maeve; although neither of them cared if he did. Aesop motioned for Maeve to get out of the carriage first. She playfully smiled at him.

“I thought a gentleman would help a woman out of the carriage.” Aesop leaned forward, smirking at her.

“Truly, I just wanted to watch you from behind.” He gracefully put on his top hat and exited the carriage, only to then stick his hand through the door to offer assistance to Maeve. She hesitated a moment, excited and dreading the buzz she was going to feel when their hands touched once more. Quickly, before she could hesitate forward, she reached out to grab it with a small, giddy, laugh.

Carefully she got out of the carriage to stand next to Aesop. He stood, without the height of the hat, a good head above her. It was outside of the carriage she could really marvel at his broad stature and feel his presence. Still holding her hand, he guided them away from the carriage so that it could leave and allow another to land in it’s place. Together they walked part way up to the castle where the party was meant to be held for the night.

“You are stunning.” Aesop weakly spoke, as if he had been holding in his words and breath the entire time they were walking. Maeve stopped to look at him, his eyes fluttering open at the motion.

“You aren’t so bad yourself.” She traced a finger down one of his lapels, her nail delicately pulling at the fine embroidery, watching as he tried to hide taking a shaky breath. “Why didn’t you ever write me? I heard you met up with others.” Aesop let out an awkward and strained sigh, quickly glancing at her as if he was anticipating and dreading this question. He squeezed her hand gently before letting it go.

“I was never here for long periods of time. Nothing for anything…serious, at least.” He let out another awkward huff of air, shifting his stance. “I had things I needed to finish back in New York, and I knew if I saw you I would have never been able to bring myself to leave again.” He reached back out to her and grabbed her waist, pulling her towards him so they could stand off the path and in the shadows. “I want to kiss you.”

His face was inches from hers, his breath beating down as he drew closer in hunger. Maeve felt her body naturally press against his, her breathing becoming short and shallow.

“I’m not stopping—” A moan prevented the end of her sentence as Aesop didn’t let her finish. His lips crashed into hers, a clumsy and desperate hunger guiding his frantic movements. One hand moved to cradle the back of her neck, gently pressing to deepen their kiss. His free arm greedily held onto her waist, clasping her body against his.

His tongue parted her lips, Maeve using the moment to take a quick gasp of air before knocking off his hat, gripping onto his hair. She desperately pulled him closer to her. Their surroundings melted away as the two of them passionately devoured each other, giving in to a decade of slowly built sexual tension.

A few gasps and whispers could be heard from the pathway, acting as a reminder for both Aesop and Maeve to not lose themselves in such a public setting. Although, if she had been wearing a shorter or more malleable dress, they may have just disappeared deeper into the woods just then.

Aesop regretfully pulled away from her, the hand that cradled her neck sliding to lovingly hold her cheek. His face hovering over hers as he lightly panted.

“Be with me.” He asked of her so suddenly. “I’m here to stay, I took a post with the Ministry. I promise I will protect you,” he pulled her chin upwards so her bashful gaze could meet his serious one, “I will love you tenderly and ravish you fiercely.” He whispered as he leaned down to softly kiss her neck, a light gasp escaping her at the pleasurable sensation it brought.

It was everything she had wanted, to be with him. Maeve knew she would say yes, but a part of her also wanted to toy with him a bit—see him squirm. She smiled as he continued to kiss her, his grip becoming desperate once again. They had survived this far with this sense of longing for the other, what was another evening? She pulled away from him, still smiling.

“If you have not realized, Mr. Sharp, I have many suitors to speak with this evening. Being as beautiful and desirable as I am, it would be unfair for me to not give them a chance.” She raised her hand delicately, inviting him to kiss it. Aesop licked his lips, before leaning down to grab his hat and delicately place his lips on her offered limb. “I will keep your offer in the back of my mind—”

“I’m sure.” Aesop interrupted with a smirk, Maeve breaking with a short, girlish, laugh.

“If no other man interests me tonight, then come find me when the evening is done.”

“As you wish, Lady Thistlespring.” Aesop bowed, a playful smirk firmly planted on his lips. “If I may ask of one thing?” He quietly requested as Maeve brought herself to turn. She glanced over her shoulder at him, Aesop letting out an astonish and excited breath. He reached into his pocked and pulled out a jewelry box, opening it up to show a delicately thin silver bracelet with many tiny topaz’s socketed between the clasps.

Maeve gasped as the notion, immediately turning to face Aesop.

“I believe if was your birthday nine days ago?” He asked, taking a step towards her. “May I?” He requested, gesturing towards her. She reached out with her left hand but Aesop shook his head. “The other, if you would?” He asked and she immediately obeyed. He took the bracelet from it’s box and placed it around her wrist. “This way, every time another man may kiss your hand, you will think of me.” He flashed a mischievous grin before giving her hand another delicate kiss.

“You knew I would deny you, didn’t you?” His grin only grew in width.

“I figured you wouldn’t let my absence go unpunished. Trust me, I will enjoy watching you flirt with the others tonight.” Maeve gave a quick, unbelievable laugh.

“And now you even get your wish of watching me walk away.” She muttered as she realized this had all gone as planned for him. He just nodded, trying very hard to supress his smile but failing miserably.

“And now I get to watch you walk away.” He agreed, a glittering satisfaction behind his eyes. She just scrunched her face, both annoyed, amused and aroused by his self-assurance.

“I look forward to holding your attention tonight, Mr. Sharp.” Maeve said as she turned to return to the path.

“And I look forward to seeing you at the end of the evening.”

The night continued as they both expected. Maeve went on to talk with almost every available man that was in attendance—even some of the Slytherin men who had teased her relentlessly for being a ‘muggle’ couldn’t help but forget they acted in such ways.

“How could I have taken jest at such an alluring woman?” One had said to her.

“A beauty such as yourself belongs among the magnificent wonders of the magical world, wouldn’t you think?” Another had tried to seduce her.

Yet, as Aesop had told Maeve, with every proper kiss to her hand, all she looked at was the delicate bracelet wrapped around her wrist; remembering the heated kiss she had shared with him. In every conversation she would look for him within the room, always finding his eyes on her despite whoever he was seemingly engaged with. His gaze growing in desire as the night continued.

She knew it was getting to him seeing her with so many others.

To prove her point, only halfway through the evening did Aesop swoop in between her and Fredrick Johnson, who had been a Gryffindor Prefect, to demand she dance with him.

“I must admit, I am more vexed than I imagined seeing you entertain so many.” He told her as he gracefully guided her on the dance floor.

“Jealous are we?” Aesop let out a deep laugh as his hands gripped her tighter.

“You couldn’t imagine the rage I felt when I heard you were dating Simon Diggory.”

“He showed interest.” Maeve rebutted. “Unlike others.” He looked at her curiously.

“I always wanted you Maeve, I do apologize if that was never clear. I felt jealousy from halfway around the world, I don’t know what else shows that it was always you.” Maeve tried to hide her bashful smile, both at his confession and hearing him finally say her name. It felt silly, to be amused by such a simple thing yet how he said it felt so intimate. “I know you said for me to wait until the end of the night, but I must say I can’t help but grow impatient.”

“We are barely halfway through the night and the song is almost done.” She warned him, enjoying hearing how much he wanted her, enjoying how that made her burn with all the right sensations. It would make feeling his touch in those places all the sweeter.

“Then let us make this quick. Leave with me.” He asked as he twirled her around before bringing her back against his body.

“Meet me out front. I will need to say goodbye to a few people.” She managed to say as the music ended, each dancing partner bowing to the other and vacating the dance floor to allow for others to join in. Maeve made a quick round of goodbye’s, saying that she had unfortunately eaten some bad fish and best be getting home. Maeve noticed that Aesop didn’t detour at all before leaving out the front.

She rushed to meet him, almost immediately missing him once he left the main hall of the party. He stood, leaning, against the wall of the castle; immediately walking towards her.

“I know a place.” He immediately told her, taking her into his arms.

“I’m sure you had this all planned out.” Maeve playfully pretended to be annoyed yet she was buzzing on the inside.

“A few ideas.” He whispered as he quickly brought his lips to hers for a short kiss. “Hold on tight.” He warned, Maeve immediately gripping onto him as he apparated them elsewhere. One moment she was in front of a castle in Scotland, then next she was in the middle of a giant meadow of wild flowers under the light of the full moon, in some random place within the world.

“A man says he knows a place…” Maeve muttered as she marvelled at the scenery around her. It was gorgeous, as if out of a book.

“I came here on a mission during my training. I knew I needed to bring you here.” He told her with a soft and sweet tone.

“So we are in America?” She asked in wonder, leaning down to smell one of the many flowers surrounding them; purposefully bending so that her rear faced Aesop.

“Indeed, this tantalizing wilderness is that of Western America.” Maeve stood up, giving a knowing glance at Aesop who regarded her with nothing but desire.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I have seen.” She told him, her eyes delicately watching his. He squinted at her before walking forward.

“Almost.” He corrected as he reached out a hand to grab one side of her face, feverishly kissing her once more. They both moaned against the other, no longer having to hold back their burning passion and need for the other. Maeve shoved his jacked off of his body, clumsily pulling at his vest to pull the fabric over his buttons.

Aesop just clung to her, constantly pulling her body closer to him and she removed his clothes. His tie was next, an item quickly removed. His lips began to travel down to her jaw as Maeve started to untuck his dress shirt from his pants. She ensured to tug a bit rougher when in the front, bringing a soft grunt from Aesop as his lips hungrily returned to hers, his tongue masterfully slipping into her.

Maeve desperately wanted to reach lower, and she was moments from doing so, when Aesop began to tug at her dress.

“Ah.” She warned, pulling away from him. Maeve placed a finger delicately over his lips to prevent any protest. “Respect the dress, and take it off properly.” She ordered, turning around to expose the ribboning that keep it tight to her body. Slowly she parted her hair, pulling it in front of her so her entire back was exposed to Aesop. She craned her neck to the side so she could gaze at him with one eye. “You are moments from seeing me naked Aesop, as you hesitate now?”

That got him moving.

He let out a heated, seductive, growl as he dropped to his knees behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, one on her torso and the other around her upper thighs. Delicately, Aesop moved his mouth to where the ribbon was tied and started to pull it undone. His hands rubbed against her body, lightly gripping at her flesh as he slowly unlaced her dress using the finesse of his tongue and teeth.

Maeve heard him groan against her, every time his hands gripping harder. Her lacing was almost undone as she felt him rock his body against her, feeling his erection pressing against her body. Before her dress was completely undone, Aesop pulled back and stood up, only to immediately return to standing behind her.

“I want to make love to you.” He whispered in her ear, his arms wrapping around her, cradling her lovingly. “I want to make you feel like the most beloved thing in this world.” He kissed her neck delicately. “Because you are, to me.” His fingers pulled the ribbon from the last set of loops, letting the fabric fall and pool at her feet.

Maeve slowly turned to look at Aesop, feeling oddly self conscious and nervous under his watchful gaze. The moonlight kissed her skin, her perky breasts bare, but Maeve placed a hand to cover the small tuff of hair between her things. Aesop lightly shook his head, not in protest of her actions but because of what drove them.

“You are even more beautiful in the moonlight.” He told her softly, his expression more so. He immediately removed his shirt, exposing a strong chest that had hair peppered on it, a strip running from his belly button to below his belt. “Let’s even things, hmn?” He asked her, reaching down for his buckle but Maeve struck out of hand, grasping his wrist firmly.

“Not yet.” She begged, feeling too hot in her face at the idea of what was about to happen. Aesop suddenly garnered her with a look of concern, turning his gaze from her.

“If this is too much for you Maeve…I wouldn’t want to—”

“Merlin, no.” Maeve reached out to grab his face, pulling his gaze back to hers. “I have thought constantly about what this night might be like…I’m just…nervous.” She finally admitted with honestly, a sweet and endearing smile spreading across his lips as he slowly cupped her face.

“You are quite innocent then?” He teased her with a bright smile, his eyes never leaving her face despite her whole body being exposed. “May I help you relax, then?” Aesop slowly asked her, waiting for Maeve to give a small nod before bringing his lips to hers once more.

It was obvious with the way he moved against her that he was the more experienced lover of the two. So it was easy for her to let him take control of the situation, ignoring the fact that she wanted him in control. Slowly, while his lips remained tied on hers, he lowered them onto the bed of flowers. The tall flora engulfing them and sheltering them from any, nonexistent, onlookers.

Aesop pulled away for a short moment, towering over her naked and alluring body.

“I can’t get over your beauty.” He whispered in awe, his eyes devouring everything they gazed at. Maeve covered her face in embarrassment, never being showered with such compliments before, let alone when she was in such a vulnerable position. He leaned down to kiss her jaw delicately. “Your skin’s so soft.” Another kiss to her neck. “You smell like honey.”

“That could just be the flowers.” Maeve muttered as she writhed beneath him, her body beginning to burn with desire. He dragged his mouth along the length of her neck, breathing heavily as he went.

“I’m sure it’s you.” He growled as he lightly bit into her shoulder. “Delicious.” He said playfully with a small laugh.

Maeve started to laugh, however her sound quickly turned into a small gasp as his lips found her breasts. Eagerly his tongue glided over her nipples before savoring her within his mouth. Maeve, wanting to avoid gripping the stems of the beautiful flowers around her, her hands instead reached out and gripped his thick hair once more. It brought a deep rumble from his throat, Maeve feeling it emanate through his chest and onto her body.

His hands continued the path down her body that his lips had began. Carefully his fingers traced a long path across her skin, looping needlessly as to tease her. She felt her hips lightly rock as he moved closer to giving her a satisfaction she craved, a touch she desperately wanted. His fingers hovered above her clit, pressing against her skin, as he released his mouth from her.

“Do you want it now?” He slowly asked her, his fingers teasing her as he slowly moved his fingers against her skin, the pressure filling her with an unbearable lust.

“I want to feel you.” Maeve begged, desperate for a release and Aesop seeming more than happy to provide. His fingers moved over her clit into the wet heat between her thighs, his eyes twinkling in satisfaction as he could feel how aroused she was. “Please.” She begged again, pulling his face against hers, releasing a deep, back arching, moan as she felt Aesop slip his fingers into her.

They rhythmically moved within her, her body already rocking with the motion as waves of pleasure rushed through her. Maeve desperately grabbing at his body as he slipped another finger within her, bringing her a pleasurable sensation of pain as he stretched her. His lips began to trail down her body again, however this time they did not get distracted by her seductive breasts as he intended to bring his lips elsewhere.

Maeve bucked helplessly as she felt Aesop’s cool tongue against the heat she felt between her legs, savoring her taste with every deliberate and broad stroke of his tongue.

“Aesop—” She moaned, her breath hitched in her throat as he pinned her legs between his shoulders, rolling her knees towards her chest. His body pressed down on her, pinning her to the ground as he hungrily glided his tongue over her clit. His fingers suddenly increased to a rapid pace, ensuring to thrust into her with surprising force.

Ripples of bliss shot through Maeve as she let out a strained, pleasured, yelp. She felt herself tighten around his fingers, her hips bucking against his mouth, as her arousal amounted to the much desired release of her built up tension in her body.

Aesop smiled against her, lightly and playfully licking her as she twitched at every touch. She could feel she was already swollen and sensitive in that area. He removed his fingers from her, delicately, yet the movement still made her shudder as more pleasure coursed through her body. Aesop ensured to make a few more broad, deep, strokes of his tongue to savor her taste once more. Finally, he released her from the position he held her in, a satisfied smile still firmly planted on his lips.

“Like honey.” His deep voice rumbled, Maeve propped herself up on one elbow and reached out for the fingers that had been in her.

“Let me taste.” She asked as she pulled his fingers towards herself, slowly inserting one after the other. She smiled at him as he watched with yearning. “It is sweet.” She agreed, having found she didn’t mind the taste yet greatly enjoyed Aesop’s expression as she did it. It also made her think about other things. “Makes me wonder what you taste like.” She purred, immediately reaching for his pants.

Aesop sat back on his knees, allowing space for Maeve to crawl out from underneath him, as he slowly undid the top of his pants. Maeve hungrily watched, slowly crawling towards him as he released his bulging erection.

It was much larger than Maeve had anticipated, and larger than she had ever handled. She wrapped a hand around his firm shaft, only covering half; which led Maeve to suspect it was the length of her chin to forehead.

Despite the slight daunting feeling she had about his size, it filled her with more anticipation at how it would feel inside of her.

Slowly she parted her lips over his cock, bringing an audible gasp from Aesop as she watched his stomach muscles clench at the sensation. The sight immediately made her throb, as her hand stroked up to meet her lips, and then back down. This time she tried to take more of him, with each stroke of her hand she went deeper until she felt her throat clench.

She immediately gasped for air, feeling her throat and mouth coated in his thick precum. It didn’t taste as sweet at hers, but she didn’t care as the satisfaction and heat it brought her as she felt his cock slide in and out of her mouth is all she needed.

Maeve pressed on his chest, pushing Aesop onto the grassy floor and, basically, ripping his pants off of his body.

Immediately Meave dove between his legs, taking his shaft within her hand while she delicately wrapped her lips around his balls. She glanced up to see him watching her, his head rocking back immediately as he let out a soft, pleasured, gasp.

“Fuck.” He moaned as he reached out a hand but stopped himself. Maeve freed her mouth so she could seductively smile at Aesop.

“Do what you wish.” She invited before licking the entire length of him and taking him into her mouth again. He didn’t stop himself this time, as his hand pressed against the back of her head and his hips pressed upwards. The way he forced his entry in such a controlled and delicate way brought an easy moan from her, the sensation bringing a fevered rhythm to Aesop’s movements.

He swore again before removing himself from her mouth, exhaling a heavy breath as Maeve gasped for air once more. She looked at him concerned for a moment, before realizing he still watched her hungrily.

“I didn’t want it to end there.” He told her, positioning himself to be on his knees one more, his body in front of Maeve’s. His arms wrapped around her figure as he pulled her in for another deep kiss.

For a short moment, when he pulled away from her, he looked at her with a sincere tenderness that was far from the burning passion they had been regarding each other with.

“I love you, Maeve Thistlespring. Hopelessly and helplessly.” He kissed her again, his hands gripping the sides of her neck and face, forcing them together desperately. He pressed his knees between hers, their bodies moving together, once again, as Maeve lowered onto the ground. However, this time, Aesop didn’t stop to marvel at her beauty.

He spread his legs, lowering his hips and forcing Maeve’s thighs to rest on his. He licked his lips as he looked down at what was before him, seemingly still craving her taste—but they both wanted different things now.

Slowly Aesop positions himself onto of her, his tip pressed delicately against her opening. He smiled as he gazed down at her, watching her face scrunch in pleasure as he entered her, pausing a moment once he was fully inserted. Maeve watched him with a shocked expression, her legs dangling in the air, unable to think of anything other than the pleasure and sensations rushing through her.

Passionately, he started to rock his hips, slowly moving in and out of her, the base of their stomachs gracing with each thrust. Aesop reached out a hand to grab hers, bringing it to where they connected, leaving her finger to grace her own clit. He glanced to her, his expression expectant as his brows furrowed with every slow thrust.

Maeve started to make small circles around her clit as their gaze stayed locked on each other. Aesop’s rolling hips turns into vigorous thrusts and grinds against her as they chased their climax. He brought his lips to hers once more, his breath becoming strained as his hair fell against her face. His thrusts became ragged and clumsy before she felt his whole body tense as he released within her.

She moaned against his lips as Aesop continued to kiss her desperately, as if each one would be their last. Slowly he brought himself to stop, rolling onto the grass beside her, holding her shaking hand.

For a few minutes they just laid there amongst the wild flowers, the only sounds being the whistling winds, lively wildlife and their heavy panting.

“I love you too, you know.” Maeve whispered softly, squeezing Aesop’s hand. His head softly fell to the side so he could look at her, Maeve naturally mirroring him. He just smiled stupidly at her, in a love drunk way, before rolling onto of her to continue showering her in kisses.

[wildstar25]

WOL and Y’shtola mini-scenario immediate post reunion in shadowbringers under the cut. 

[Context: between markers during quest “a day in the neighbour hood”. While Y’shtola has a good feeling as to why she couldnt recognize Arsay, its clear Arsay is completely unaware of what is happening to her. Fully misinterpreting the events as familiar feelings of abandonment take over, Arsay snaps at Y’shtola at the first opportunity and hastily exists the cave in a huff.]

Y’shtola: To think I’d find the “Warrior of Darkness” sulking, of all things, when there’s a whole new village full of other people's problems you can stick your nose into. Is this how you have changed? I can’t say its very becoming of you.

Arsay: ... 

Y’shtola: ... <sigh>  

Y’shtola: Did that rude welcome of mine offend you so? Surely by now you are no stranger to having a mass of weapons pointed towards you. 

Arsay: ... 

Y’shtola: You have to understand, it’s your aether. It...  after three long years on the first I’ve learned to equate aether such as yours to that of an imminent threat. These people have already lost so much, I can’t afford to take chances with their safety.

Y’shtola: Had I arrived to the scene a moment earlier, heard your voice first, perhaps then- 

Arsay: I’m not mad at you.

Arsay: I... I’m upset with myself. To think myself so important to you that you could recognize me at a glance. That you would not forget me after being apart for a time. I believed because I care so much for you... perhaps you would do the same in turn. A childish folly I thought I’d never repeat. 

Arsay: You’re my best friend Y- Matoya. Your words sting like adder bites and you can read through tomes faster than I can take down a primal. When we part on separate adventures, there are moments where I want nothing more than to see you again. I know you can’t see me the way I see you, it’s unfair of me to expect that of you; yet, to know I am nothing more than an indistinguishable pool of aether in your eyes... Pray, tell me. Do I mean so little in your life as to not be remembered? Did you not think of me at all, even a bit? 

Y’shtola: <scoffs> Don’t be so daft, of course you’ve crossed my mind. When I first arrived to this reflection I thought to myself how worried you must be. That you were probably putting all other duties on hold to instead watch my bedside, as you before did in Rhalgr's Reach. 

Y’shtola: Time moved on here. I got embroiled in the mysteries of the First. I couldn’t very well squander this opportunity in front of me by spending all my energy thinking about if or when I’d ever get to see you again. You know better than most I’m not one to dwell on such things... Perhaps the picture I had of you in my mind faded somewhat along the way but it was not due to lack of caring. It’s the opposite, really. Were I more indifferent, recalling our moments together might have caused me far less grief.

Y’shtola: Suffice is to say, you are important to me too, Arsay. Not only as a fellow scion, but as a dear friend. I couldn’t forget you. Not in any way that matters. You need not jump to such nonsensical insecurities.  

Arsay: ... 

Y’shtola: Now, does that clear things up; or will you force my hand into professing even more superfluous information regarding how I feel.  

Arsay: No, that’s... that was enough. Forgive this outburst of mine, I don’t know what came over m-

Y’shtola: Think nothing of it. I only hope you return to your old self.  

Arsay: Thank you.

[forest-of-stories]

[Here is the first segment of my “Five Things” Hypnotists fic!]

1.

Since he arrived at the cocktail party, Ashton had felt as if somebody was watching him.  He tried to dismiss that sensation as pure paranoia, until another guest, who had been surrounded by a smiling entourage all evening, followed him onto the balcony and drew him into a conversation.

At first, that conversation was civil and completely mundane: Ashton tried to avoid boasting about the cars that he sold to the extremely wealthy and occasionally famous, and learned that Elias Mako managed an academic research institute in uptown Manhattan.  “I find that the most rewarding aspect of our work lies in the chance to impact future generations,” he said.  “Do you have any children?”

“We have one.  He’s five.” Ashton paused.  “What kind of research did you say that you do?”

Mako chuckled.  “I think that you know what kind, Ashton Opus.”

“I… really don’t,” Ashton managed, but then their eyes locked, and he was twelve years old again, assaulted by the heavy smells of perfume and cigar smoke, surrounded by tittering adults who kept mussing his hair, tweaking his nose, and – of course – peering into his eyes.  He found himself wondering if he’d really wanted to come to this family reunion instead of spending the day at the park with his friends…

…and then he was back in the present, alone on the balcony, and the door was swinging shut.  Ashton gulped lungfuls of the evening air until his heart stopped thundering, though his head still ached as if something had raked across his brain.  

Still a little bit unsteady on his feet, he strode back into the penthouse, and took a moment to locate his wife, who was talking to their host.  “Are we ready to go?” Monica’s eyes widened, and Ashton realized how harshly he’d spoken.  He apologized to both of them, reaching for her hand as he reached for an excuse, because if there was an appropriate time or place to say, “I think that somebody hypnotized me,” this wasn’t it.

Monica was quiet during the drive home, and Ashton had plenty of time to think about how she might react if he told her about his family, as he’d considered telling her many times before.  He’d always kept their secret, not because he didn’t think she’d believe the truth (though she’d have plenty of reasons not to), but because he didn’t want her to spend an evening, or even a single minute, with the fear that had followed him throughout his entire childhood: that anyone in the room could influence their actions and memories with a single glance, and they couldn’t do a single thing to stop it, or even know for sure that it was happening.

How disappointing, an unfamiliar voice (or was it?) seemed to murmur in his ear, and he hoped that she didn’t see him shudder.  

When they returned to their apartment, Monica paid their baby-sitter and went into their bedroom to change out of her dress, while Ashton tiptoed down the hallway and opened the door to their son’s bedroom a few inches.  Curled around his favorite stuffed animal, a floppy-eared alien from a Disney movie, Jackson stirred slightly but did not wake.

Ashton would never be sure how often his parents had manipulated his mind, but he knew that he could never do the same to his own child, and, far from being disappointed, he was relieved and grateful.

He closed the door as quietly as he could.

[blankcanvas003]

You are not the one…

Chapter One: Inception

I am Sameera, a banker by profession and mother of two boys in grades 5th and 7th. My husband works in a pharmaceutical company as a regional director. Even though I am quite caught up in day-to-day activities, I love it that way. My boys keep me busy like a beaver, always running in between my workspace and their rooms. I do have household help with kitchen duties which is a great blessing. My family and people from my in-laws’ side are very loving. Honestly speaking I do not have much to complain about, a good life partner, great kids, loving family, and a rewarding job. I always wanted to work in banking domain. It was never the pay package that mattered, for me it was always the work; and I am lucky that I do what I love to do. And that’s important.

Last Wednesday, like any other workday, was very busy as usual. My boys went to their school and my husband reached his office a bit early for an important company event. My day started as usual with a cup of green tea. Then I heard a notification on my phone. It was the sound of a personal email. I tapped the notification icon on my phone to have a quick look into it.

As I glanced through the sender’s email address, it caught my eye. It was from my college’s official alumni group. They are organizing a reunion event for the first time since we left college. The first question that came to my mind was “Why now?”. It’s been so many years now since I left college.

I started to ponder if I really wanted to respond but memories started to flash, and it turned out to be a mixed bag of feelings. Some memories were great, but some were not so. Although I am in touch with a few from my batch, we never took the initiative to meet one another. Coincidently, all of them settled in Kolkata like me, and we occasionally meet with each other in local shops or metro station couple of times. We exchanged our phone numbers but ultimately everything was reduced to text messages only.

Before my tea turned into a cold drink, I started ringing all of them to discuss the email. Not sure why I didn’t text them; it seemed my subconscious mind was already into it. As we started chatting, most were equally surprised except Anita. She knew a few details. There is this guy Avinash from our batch, now settled in USA, took the initiative, and connected with few others and planned for this reunion in December. Avinash always visits India during Christmas holidays and this time he decided to organize a get-together with his old college buddies. So, basically it is his idea to bring our whole batch under the same roof after so many years.

I could not concentrate much on my office work. I checked my work calendar quickly, there were no meetings in the second half. So, I took a half day off and kept collecting information about this event.

It was almost evening when my boys came back from their Karate lessons after school and my husband called me and informed, he would be little late for our evening tea. I shared the news with my boys, and they were very excited. The younger one asked, “Mom, can we join you? We really want to see your college friends.” I smiled, stopped for a while to prepare my response for a ten-year-old. I told him that it is only for the batchmates, and I don’t think anyone will bring their family. But if I hear anyone is bringing, I will make sure both of you are coming with me. They gave a smile and got busy with their tasks. Meanwhile, my husband came home, and I shared the news. He was equally excited and said that I must join them and have fun with friends and refresh some college memories.

A few weeks passed by, and it was almost the time for the reunion. We received a follow-up email with the venue and other details.

I called a few of my friends to make sure they were also coming. Otherwise, I would drop my plan. And yes, all of them are coming and I was relieved. I was quite settled in my mind and started planning for the reunion day. But one question was always in my mind “Is HE coming?”

Chapter Two: HE

Like many, school life left me with unforgettable memories. Towards the end of the high school year, my two besties fell in love with each other; this should have made feel happy, I rather felt awkward although they tried their best not to make me feel so. I made lots of friends during my school days but there was always loneliness. My heart kept searching for a special one; there were all the emotions which I wanted to share with someone, someone special but there were none. So, I wished for a college romance.

Here came “HE”; Akash, the very first student I met in the hallway. One could easily say that he was a good-looking guy. I joined the college for my undergrad a week later due to some admission complexities and my name was published in the second list. Hence, my first college day was not Day-1 like others. I was a bit nervous but very excited for my first day. I went directly to the principal’s office and from there to my classroom. As I said “hello” to everyone, I was thrilled to see the same face sitting in my classroom. I understood that we both had enrolled for the same course. My heart was beating fast. When I think of this now, I tend to think that it was not a great beginning for a future “Banker”. Between all odds, we became very good buddies. May be slightly more than just good friends. We both felt for each other but never shared the same. Akash was my project partner throughout my college years. We always paired up with two of the other students and got involved in various activities.

Chapter Three: The College Days

I completed my master’s in economics but what I am going to share now is from my bachelor days.

A few weeks passed, I came to know more students from my class and started hanging out after college hours. The whole batch was divided into small groups of four for project work and we made sure that Akash and I were again looped into one group. I was feeling on cloud nine and was very confident that the whole universe wants us together. It was just a matter of time.

Happy times go fast like an arrow and more importantly I developed a crush on my classmate. Life became a dreamy sequence, and everything was extra sweet, even the boring theory classes were so interesting.

Soon, we all progressed into the second year. A few of our common friends started giving us names. It was hard for them to believe that we were just good friends. I was confident from Akash’s side it is true friendship and from my end I was desperately trying to move it forward beyond being “Just good friends” but without being much vocal about it.

It was a great second year in college. Along with studies, we organized cultural events and youth parliament. We also conducted events like “Expert Talks” where successful bankers from different parts of the country would come and give speeches on the current market trends and expressed their expectations from the young talented students.

Soon, it was time for the second-year final exam and results were out within a month. Now, the final year of our bachelor’s degree.

To be honest, it was tough on my part to suppress my feelings for Akash and act normal. I tried a few times to share how I felt but was very scared of losing him as a friend. The reason behind that was Akash never showed any signs about us being more than just friends. He was excellent as my best friend, but it was still far from reality to think of him as my future life partner. So, I kept mum and continued with the current. Somehow, deep down I was expecting him to express his feelings or propose to me and I would say yes. That would have been an easy way. I didn’t want to take the first step.

Months passed, and we were almost near our last college exam. Akash was very supportive during those last days as I always had “Testophobia” which is a fancy word for exam stress. It was almost a ritual that after every exam he would take all of us to a local vendor and treat us with fresh glass of coconut water. It really felt nice to see that caring trait in Akash’s nature.

But I always had a question in my mind why he never asked me alone. Finally, it was our college graduation day and our farewell party arranged by the junior batch. As seniors, some of us were also participating in a few cultural events. I was also a free makeup artist for that day for the other participants. Overall, it was super hectic and the reason I never got captured in our batch group pictures.

It was almost the last leg of the cultural events, and I heard one of my friends yelling my name. She told me that Akash was searching for me very desperately. He really wanted to say something very important, but I couldn’t leave backstage, so I told her that I couldn’t leave then.

Time doesn’t wait for anyone. Years later, I came to know from that very friend that Akash announced to our friends’ group that he wanted to propose to me. He never realized before but on the last day he thought he had something more than just friendship. But also, he declared that if he couldn’t share his feelings on that day or I somehow rejected him, he would not be in touch with me anymore, not even as a friend.

When the cultural event ended, all the participants were called on stage for some prize distribution. Once, I was free of duties and I looked for him and could not find Akash. Till today, I do not know why he did not wait for me to say what he wanted to say.

My sweet one-sided love story ended on that day.

Chapter Four: Reunion Day

My family was happy about my graduation and at the same time wanted me to go for the Masters in the same college or from any other leading university. I didn’t have much choice as most of my family members have a huge list of degrees. I decided to stay in my college. Very few of my batchmates took similar decisions like me so I could not see many known faces in my grad classes. I had dived deep into my studies. I didn’t want to miss any opportunity to land a decent job in the banking sector.

I waited but never heard back from Akash. I asked many of our friends, but no one could tell me much about him. I tried to send him emails, but all my emails bounced. I figured he chose to shut all his windows for me. I did not find a reason for Akash’s odd behavior.

Time passed, I completed my master’s degree and started as a junior sales manager in a private bank. I became quite busy with my new job responsibilities. One Saturday, I received a text from Manisha who was working in Bangalore. She had seen Akash hanging out in a mall with another girl from our batch. She could not recall the girl’s name. I was very curious and started asking her all the possible questions to figure out who this girl was. Finally, Facebook came to my rescue, and it was none other than “Priyanka”, the drama queen of our batch.

Manisha believed they were in a relationship. My last hope to get a call from Akash faded away.

Curiosity filled within me, and I was after all a human with just a brain, not a heart anymore. I quickly pulled Priyanka’s profile to get a glimpse of Akash, how he looked now. But weirdly, there was no information about him in her profile. It was even hard to say that they were a couple as her relationship status still showed “Single”. It could be that she just forgot to update her profile.

I simply decided to close that chapter completely and move forward with my life and with my job. And I did well. I got promoted to a new job role after two and half years. My parents were so happy with my progress in life but like so many other parents started looking for a suitable groom. I really did not want to be tied up in a family but there came a time I agreed with them. And after six months of search and validation, I got married to a doctor in an arranged matrimony.

My husband Girish was a medical professor when we got married. He was not interested in a day-to-day doctor’s job. He preferred the life of a teacher to shape medical students in their specialized subjects. We had very different careers but our tuning was on the same pitch. We had a lot in common and the weekends were real fun in our busy schedule. We both are very close to our families, and it was very important for both of us to spend quality time with elder family members.

Coming back to where I started this story, I do not have any regrets or complaints at present and am very happy around all the people I have in my life.

Chapter Five: Planning and Preparation

Now the waiting. College Reunion is just few weeks away. I was excited with the hope to see Akash after so many years. I gathered all the updates about him. He is now settled in Bangalore and married to Priyanka. They have a daughter. When I heard about Akash marrying Priyanka for the first time, I just had a smile on my face. She is not the one Akash ever described how his future life partner would be. Priyanka was in a steady relationship in our college days but it’s quite clear as water now that the relationship didn’t last long. It is not difficult for them to be together as they both were working in the same city, but I have no idea how it started Well, I am not curious about that, but Manisha kept me filling with the details of how they soon felt head over heels for each other. The rumor about them is that Priyanka, being overly possessive about Akash, does not allow him to keep in touch with any of our classmates, especially the girls. I really don’t care about any of these, but it is quite funny as most of us are in our mid 40’s now. I don’t think any one of us will try to snatch Akash from her now.

It’s true that being a good-looking boy Akash used to get a lot female attention, but I could never have guessed in my wildest dream that Akash would finally marry Priyanka.

With all these thoughts going through my head, I opened my wardrobe and started looking for what to wear for the event. I must look pretty. I am a bit confused whether I go with my present day or jump straight to my teenage days in college. Do I need to make an impression? I don’t even know if he is coming. Whatever it is, I simply want the best “Saree and Jewelries” from my collection.

I could not explain much why I want to look best and what are my intentions behind doing all that. But I can just guess that there could be a tiny dot in my heart and it’s like a vacuum. It’s not filled with love yet. For these long-married years, Akash was never in the picture but is there still a slight soft spot for him subconsciously that I was also not aware of? If I can renew my friendship and just stay in touch with him, can I fill up that vacuum? Or is this just my silly predictions? Enough planning no more wild guesses.

Chapter Six: Reunion Day

Finally, it’s the December 19th morning. The reunion is purposefully planned for Saturday evening as more of us could join. That little birdie just tweeted via my phone that Akash is coming but Priyanka is staying back with her daughter. She has a plan to visit her parents and cannot drop her plan just for the sake of some long-lost faces she doesn’t want to remember again. I again have that smile and thought “Is the universe again taking my side?”

I already chalked out the plan for the day. I will leave early and go to a hair salon for spa and then go to the venue directly.

Everything went according to plan, and I am finally in the event hall. My eyes are searching for him. And then, finally at the meet and greet hour I see Akash. He has changed a lot, gained quite a bit of weight, and lost some of his hair but still has that charm. I just yelled at him as there was a huge crowd. He turned back and was equally excited to see me. I am again doing the same which I am best at. I am acting as if I am completely unknown about his present life with my fake excitement. He seems to be little shocked hearing that I got married so early and have two school going kids. My next step is to get his contact number. And yes, we just exchanged our numbers. Now I am with other friends and having a gala time. Refreshing the fun college days, we are all lost in our past. We are teenagers again.

Chapter Seven: The Time In-Between

I booked a cab and came home with a happy heart. Girish and kids are sleeping but my sleep escaped my eyes. I started searching Akash’s profile on Facebook. I was slowly opening a closed book and was not sure how it would impact my present life.

I could not find his profile, so I sent the first text “Are you in Facebook?”. I was not expecting a quick reply, but to my surprise the reply came in a few seconds, and he really had a funny profile name. No doubt I was not able to find him. I finally added “bong_eagle” to accept my Facebook friend request. Akash still needed to accept it and then only I could browse all the details shared on his profile. Don’t get me wrong, I am just a normal human being and a bit thrilled to reconnect with my old crush, that’s it.

Next morning, I saw the request was still pending. I was a little mad at myself. I should have waited a tiny bit longer. But I received a text from Akash that he wanted to meet me and a few other friends in some café before he left for Bangalore.

I am a little bit angry with my old pal. He did not check Facebook at all for the entire time and it was hard to believe. I once was again just going with the wave. I responded back in a text that I am really caught up with some personal work and would try my best to join them. I was about to skip the get together if possible.

Suddenly, my phone chimed again, and it was a notification from Facebook. Akash just accepted my friend request, and we are now connected on Facebook. My heart was pounding fast. Now, I couldn’t miss this get together and all my reservations just fumed away into the thin air.

Akash was my special friend in college but what about the other way around. How close or special was I to him? I honestly have no answer for that. I could have just assumed that I was his best friend. He could have similar friendships with others as well. I was either very stupid or was overconfident about our relationship. My one-sided love for him made me completely blind.

Chapter Eight: Café Date

Sunday evening. Kids were having some fun time at their grandparents’ house. Monday was a holiday, Girish stayed back with them at his childhood home. I was all alone and decided to enjoy the private time to the fullest. I wore the best fitted black dress and a turquoise beads necklace and matching earrings. “Was I going in a wrong direction?” Perhaps not, just normal human complexities.

I reached “Coffee Time”, the café we all decided to meet. Luckily, I saw Akash sitting alone at a table and others were still on their way. I went straight to the table and Akash was feeling slight uncomfortable. I can see that clearly on his face. But he tried his best to behave normally. It was quite natural, when you are out of touch with an old friend and have no common topics to discuss.

He started the conversation, asking questions about Girish, my kids. I also tried to be polite and asked a few questions about Priyanka and their daughter. Meanwhile, the rest of the party came, and we all chatted for quite some time and planned to leave before dinner.

As I was about to catch the cab, I saw Akash standing behind me. He asked me whether I could join him at dinner at some nearby restaurant. I couldn’t disclose or show him signs but that’s exactly what I was planning for the past few days but controlled my emotions and said “ok”.

He asked again for a confirmation “Would your husband mind?” I assured him that Girish and the boys were at his parents’ house, and I would be all my own for the rest of the day. It didn’t matter if I was eating at home or outside. I suggested a name as I have dined there before and liked the food and ambience. Akash agreed easily, which was quite a bit strange as he was always very particular about checking online ratings before entering any restaurant. But this time he trusted me without a question.

We reached and took our seat in a corner. The waiter came and poured water on our glasses and gave us the menu. Akash clearly asked me to order as I knew better than him about the menu and went to restroom.

I remembered all his favorites and ordered accordingly. He had a tiny curve on his lips when the food arrived as he saw all his favorite items together in the table.

Akash asked, “Why you didn’t order chicken lollipop, isn’t that your favorite?” And he added “I have seen that in the menu”. I also matched his smile and replied, “You are in my city, so let’s try something you like.” He could not say more, and we started eating and talking about our jobs and family.

I had several questions in my mind, I wanted to ask like why he never kept in touch after college, why he never contacted me since then etc. etc. But thought not to bring the odd old topics and just enjoy the current moment.

I cannot deny, I had a great time. We both booked cabs and left. He was staying in his aunt’s home in North Kolkata. His parents also moved to Bangalore to live close by their only son.

Next day, it was relatively slower as it was a holiday. I was waiting for Girish and the boys to come home and texted Akash “Have a safe flight” as he was returning to Bangalore the same day. He texted back promptly “thanks 😊”.

Chapter Nine: Falling Apart

The following week was a bit hectic, so didn’t take any initiative to contact Akash and I did not hear anything back from him as well. A few weeks passed. I messaged in Facebook messenger “Hi, what’s up?”, just to make sure everything was fine at his end.

I didn’t receive any reply for a long time. It was almost a month and I saw a notification in the messenger from Akash. I went to my workspace and tapped the notification to read it.

It was a big paragraph. I was not able to guess what that was about.

It says “Hello! I am doing well. After a lot of thinking, I have decided that I cannot continue our chats here. It’s been a long time since we left college. We both have our own family and responsibilities. Our friendship may affect other lives such as my wife or your husband. You know Priyanka, so I will not explain to you much about what happened when I shared the news that I met you after the reunion and we had dinner together. I need to really focus on my wife and daughter now, hope you will understand. And about your husband, I have never met him before. I am still a stranger to him and so, can guess how he will take our renewed friendship. I am sure he will also feel the same way my wife feels. It’s better to end our ‘thing’ and go back to the old self. We both will be happier. Before unfriending you, just wanted to ask a question ‘Sameera, did you ever have any feelings for me back then?’”

And that’s the end of the message.

Now, I was mad. I was not thinking that way. It was just a re-bonding with a college pal and not to start an extra marital affair. But looks like Akash was thinking too much. It’s better to go back to where it was before the reunion.

So, I replied to his message

“Akash, I think you are right. We should stop our chats for the best. And coming to your question, No I never had anything more than how a friend feels about the other. But I would like to share one thing that I know what happened on the farewell day from Reeya. You remember you asked Reeya to bring me from the green room. She has told me everything you said to her.

So, I guess I am going to block you now. Be happy!”

And I blocked Akash everywhere. It was not as bad as I imagined. I was feeling quite confident about how I handled it. And I believe that everything happens for a reason.

Some people are never meant to be in your life and Akash is now added to the list. They are better as strangers who bring so much complexity to simple things and can make a simple thing more complex. There is no need to bring unnecessary stress. This friendship was never meant to survive after college, and I am very confident now that Akash was never a suitable person as my future life partner.

I thanked God for having Girish in my life and two beautiful boys. I promised myself to enjoy little moments with my precious family and make the most out of my life with what is remaining.

The End.

[lambden]

4. “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

For Geraskier? If you’re still doing requests ☺️

G, 1.9K words, set post-season 2

Long after Ciri has fallen asleep during one of Yennefer’s tamest stories, Geralt finds himself sneaking down the hall on… a whim. Well, not really— witchers don’t have whims. Their every impulse is backed by carefully observed data, allowing them to predict the trajectory of every fight and forbidding them from flights of fancy. So it’s not really his intuition pulling him towards Jaskier’s room, but at the same time, he can’t fathom exactly why he feels pulled to the bard. 

Maybe something is lingering on his mind from earlier; things haven’t been smooth between them in years and the Voleth Meir business has undoubtedly further complicated the situation. Since their reunion Jaskier has been moving through the same motions as always, his heartbeat a little less frenzied but still steady and constant. He laughs, and smiles, and jokes, and sings— at least, around Geralt, he does all these things more or less the same. But there is a bizarre and bewildering and upsetting undercurrent to all his actions that Geralt knows he isn’t just imagining. (Witchers don’t really imagine, either.)

He finds the bard’s door slightly ajar, flickering candlelight spilling out onto the cold floor of the hall. But the room is silent, devoid of singing or even snoring. Geralt cautiously tunes his senses for a better picture of what Jaskier might be doing up this late, but all he receives are waves of stress. He smells sharp, sour sweat— not the good kind, not a sweat broken by relief but one wrung out by force. Jaskier’s pulse is faster than usual, and when Geralt opens the door without thinking any better of it, his beating heart spikes.

“Shit,” Jaskier exclaims, caught in the act… of leaving. His jacket is slung over one shoulder and he’s wearing the warm, thick socks he always used to wear on the road, the ones darned a thousand times over. Jaskier has very few possessions here— indeed, he might have very few possessions anywhere. His journals are stacked neatly in an open bag, small enough that Roach could carry it around her neck without complaint. Geralt stops taking inventory of Jaskier’s meagre belongings and instead looks up to see him staring back, wide-eyed. “You scared me,” mutters the man.

Geralt has never scared Jaskier before. He doesn’t think it’s only fear making the man sweat, though— the wrinkle in his forehead between his sharp, thick brows makes him look conflicted. Maybe he wasn’t really going to leave; Geralt has seen him prepare to make much, much stupider decisions and then back out of them at the last second. The witcher enters the room without being invited in, shutting the door quietly behind himself. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not really,” Jaskier admits, glancing down at the obvious signs of his departure. One of them will have to bring it up, and it certainly isn’t going to be Geralt— over their decades of knowing each other, he’s learned that the best way to get Jaskier talking is to shut up. But, surprisingly, Jaskier doesn’t mention the packed bag either, just muttering darkly, “Drafty fucking castle. Couldn’t you have picked a warmer climate?”

“I didn’t choose it,” Geralt tells him plainly, even though Jaskier knows that. Sure enough, the bard rolls his eyes. The irritation is familiar enough that it comforts them both, and it gives Geralt the courage to step closer to the bed. “Do you… well. I mean.” He falls silent, embarrassed to have to ask aloud. But it’s the only thing coming to mind that might get Jaskier to stay, aside from an important conversation; and he’s always been shit at those. “I could give you a massage…?”

Jaskier gapes. “What?”

“I could give you a massage,” Geralt repeats slowly, more sure of himself the second time around. Even as Jaskier’s expression contorts into one of increasing confusion, he doesn’t retract the offer, instead doubling down. “That always used to help me calm down when I was stressed. You’re stressed. I’ll rub your back.”

“Fucking hell,” breathes Jaskier, still staring at Geralt as though he’s grown a second head. “I… Are you drunk?”

“No. Lie down.” Jaskier stares, and Geralt realizes the error of his ways too late; Jaskier had always given him massages after he bathed. Often they were both unclothed but Geralt thinks taking off his own trousers might give Jaskier the wrong impression, and he doesn’t want to scare him right out of the keep. He just wants to help him relax. “Take your clothes off, then lie down.”

He thinks Jaskier might pick up his bag of books and toss it at Geralt’s head, but instead the bard just blinks before obeying the instructions. He strips as methodically as he always has around the witcher, first removing his long-sleeved shirt and dropping it off the side of the bed, where it covers his other belongings. Good— let him forget his half-baked plans of leaving. 

His breeches come next, leaving him shivering in his smallclothes. Before Geralt can get a good look at anything Jaskier rolls over onto his stomach, leaving his back and legs exposed as he buries his face in the pillow. He’s still wearing his warm, handmade socks. Looking at those socks, Geralt feels a rush of warmth and desire so sudden and overwhelming that it frightens him— he wants to cover Jaskier in blankets, to cover them both, he wants to sheathe himself inside this man and hold him so tightly that the thought of stumbling down a freezing mountain alone never crosses his mind again. He wants Jaskier to be cozy, and he wants Jaskier to know that Geralt wants him to be cozy. Of all the realizations he’s had in the last few years, this has to take the ridiculous cake; Geralt can’t even think of the last time he used the word ‘cozy’. He thinks perhaps he never has.

“Get on with it,” Jaskier begs through chattering teeth, and Geralt moves over him on the bed so that he can do exactly that. He hovers over the man’s thighs, not wanting to perch atop them how Jaskier once had. The position strains his own thighs but Geralt is a witcher, for fuck’s sake; he can put up with aching muscles if it gets Jaskier to relax.

Geralt casts a quick Igni towards the empty hearth and a small fire bursts to life there. He only meant to make the room more comfortable but he immediately recognizes that it was a mistake when Jaskier tenses even more underneath him, burrowing down into the threadbare mattress and turning his head away from the fire. His bare hands curl up into fists at his sides, and Geralt watches them uncomfortably. Yen had told him about some of Rience’s torture, but he hadn’t thought it would leave lasting psychological damage… Maybe they really do need to have that conversation.

Just the thought is terrifying. Geralt opts to stick with his approach instead, leaning forward to dig his hands into Jaskier’s shoulders. At the very first touch the man jumps as though Geralt has poked him, trying to shy away from the sensation. Jaskier stops squirming quickly but he doesn’t relax, shoulders still tense enough that he could be flexing them. Geralt slowly rubs along the tired muscles there, tracing a path down along Jaskier’s sides before moving to work on the middle of his back.

The small crackling fire is their only ambiance— that and Jaskier’s rapidly beating heart. Geralt hadn’t expected him to feel so tightly wound; even after several minutes, Geralt can’t feel any change. He huffs, nearly self-conscious, “What? Don’t like massages?” 

His bard doesn’t even respond, which perfectly confirms Geralt’s suspicions that he’s somehow doing this wrong. Growing nervous, he leans down until their bodies are nearly flush. Even then Jaskier doesn’t reply, and Geralt finally whispers against the shell of his ear, “Jaskier. You’re so tense.”

“I don’t think anyone could possibly blame me for that.” Jaskier’s response is muffled through the pillow.

Geralt straightens up, rising up to hover over him again. Unable to fully hide the note of concern in his voice, he asks, “Is this not helping? I thought… Is this not what you want?”

And that finally makes Jaskier react, coming alive under Geralt. He turns, unseating the witcher only slightly as he rolls in place and shifts onto his side, then his back. His hair might have grown and he might have lost some mass but his eyes are blue as ever, and they steal Geralt’s breath exactly the same way as they had some twenty-odd years ago. “You’ve never offered me a massage before,” accuses Jaskier, staring up at him.

Geralt’s medallion dangles down between them but he doesn’t move to put it over his shoulder, too transfixed by the strange look in his friend’s eyes— if he can even call the bard his friend anymore. He doesn’t like not knowing what’s on Jaskier’s mind. Usually he wears his feelings on his sleeve, and right now Geralt can’t understand him when they’re less than a foot apart. It unsettles him, and his answer comes out more honest than he’d meant: “I never thought you needed one before. You’re… stressed. I can see it.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Jaskier huffs. “My brilliant, psychic witcher who somehow manages to miss the most obvious evidence before his very eyes! Yes, Geralt, you’ve solved it; I am fucking stressed!”

Geralt chews his lip. “I can put the fire out.”

Some of the tension drains from Jaskier even as he shakes his head. So maybe he doesn’t want the fire gone so much as he wants it acknowledged that the fire is bothering him, and why that might be. Geralt winces; he’s terrible at acknowledgements. “It’s not the fire. It’s—”

“I can take my pants off too.”

“—that I don’t belong here on th… on this, I’m sorry, what did you just fucking say? Yes, please, never mind. Let’s do that!”

“I want to make you feel more comfortable,” Geralt slowly admits through a grimace. One of Jaskier’s tightly coiled fists unfurls so that he can reach up to lightly cup the witcher’s face. His soft touch is a balm on a wound that Geralt didn’t know he had. “I thought I could offer… a massage, or… a… conversation. Whatever it takes. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Geralt—”

“I want you to be comfortable here,” Geralt insists, sagging into Jaskier’s touch as he comes clean. Jaskier’s eyes fly open wide once more but this time his scent isn’t sick with stress, and no sweat is gathering in the crooks of his body. He looks windswept by the declaration but, as a small smile quirks up in the corners of his mouth, he looks happy too. Geralt revels in that happiness, resolving to do whatever he can to prolong it. “Will you try? If I do?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jaskier sniffs, burying his head into Geralt’s shoulder and hugging him tightly. Geralt embraces him back just as strongly, not wanting to crush him but needing him as close as possible. Jaskier’s shoulders shake with a different tension but Geralt doesn’t address it, holding him until finally, finally the wave of stress crests and he starts to relax. When he breaks the silence between them his voice wavers slightly; “Thank you, Geralt.”

Geralt wraps his arms more solidly around Jaskier, humming softly. “I’m sorry my massages aren’t as good as yours.”

“I’ve had years of experience,” Jaskier dismisses, a smile in his voice. “This… this helps a lot. Just this.”

“Next time I’ll bring chamomile oil.”

“Next time you’ll take your pants off too.” The significance of the promise isn’t lost on Geralt, and when he pulls away to gaze into Jaskier’s bright eyes, he sees the sentiment reflected there.