#and working with whatever I’m able to produce in that moment

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

Seascapes

[phyrestartr]

Heyyy I'm not sure if you take requests but I have an idea-

Reincarnated! Husband sukuna x Dead spouse (husband) Male Reader: this one is kind of like sukuna fucks up a lot, I think this can work out as an omegaverse? He cheats, fucks around, or doesn't even give af about m reader who is his fated pair, but then m! reader died and since they were mated he's like “shit I can't live without him” so he tries to be good to him the next life and they have happy family the end.

Replay (This Time I'll Get It Right) | Sukuna x Male!Reader (Part 1 of 2)

W/C: 1.6k #alpha!sukuna, omega!reader, mentions of suicide, mentions of murder, ABO dynamics, mentions of stalking, mentions of toxic exes, sukuna sucks, sukuna sucks less eventually, reincarnation, next lives, angst, drama, hurt/comfort, toxic relationships, infidelity/cheating

NOTE: Thank you for your patience!! It's still not quite done, but I wanted to post the first part up while i think of the rest of the story (got a vague idea of how it'll go, so should come out soon). Ty for the req!

tags: @kamote-kuneho @prettorett @memedealer-exe @tr4nniez @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @memedealer-exe @silvern1006

♪ Here With Me - d4vd

♪ Watch the sunrise along the coast

As we’re both getting old ♪

Sukuna puffed on a cigarette, staring out at the city lights. You always liked coming here, to this little cliff hanging above the city–especially when you were stuck on lyrics or tabs of whatever song you were working on. This hillside spot was cheesy and stupid, but you loved the way it felt like an old-school chick flick when you drove up here in your beater.

In this spot, Sukuna realized you had an old soul, one that basked in the simple, mundane things like stargazing and city-watching. It was a step away from feeding pigeons in the park, your producer decided. The way that made you laugh still sent his heart on a wild chase. That, too, was the first moment he realized he wanted you more than just a collaborator. 

And, maybe, if he had pushed aside the partying, the drugs, the women, he might’ve bothered checking his phone. He might’ve been able to apologize for wrongs done and words said, to get back on the right track. He might've not found out about you on the news. Maybe he could have given you everything you wanted–

But he couldn’t. Not anymore. 

♪ I can’t describe what I’m feeling

And all I know is we’re going home ♪

Even after locking you down and starting on that stupid journey to start a family, his spirit still yearned to wander free. 

So it did. 

Primal wants controlled him. He allowed them to steer him away from the safety of your touch and into the gnashing jaws of excitement, of danger. All because the two of you were starting to make it–you were starting to leave your mark on this world, and Sukuna let the fame and greed get to him. 

But how could he not jump at the chance to fuck the famous and infamous? How could he stay faithful to just you, a smalltown boy, when big city celebrities reached out to him, pulling him into big deals and bigger beds? How could he–

His phone blitzed to life again, ringing in the hollow quiet of a too-expensive car. The call went to voicemail, leaving him in the pits of Tartarus again, drowning in the frigid rain beating against his car windows like a million bullets trying to seek the death penalty.

Did angels do that? Take revenge for their own kind? He’d understand it. Jin, an angel in his own right, exiled his Luciferian twin from the celestial plane, barring him from what was left of that tiny spark of love and hope he called “family.” 

♪ So please don’t let me go, oh

Don’t let me go ♪

His phone rang again. He remembered picking it up once upon a time, listening to your shaky voice as you told him the worst and best news he’d ever heard in his entire existence: “I’m pregnant.” 

Sukuna didn’t know what true fear and excitement were until that moment. You laughed through waterworks, lifted by Sukuna’s uncontrolled motor-mouthing and celebrating as he hooted and hollered on the other line. The women your husband was with gave him weird looks, but he didn’t care–you were pregnant. You were going to–

You were going to have his kid. His pup. A shared little joy, a spark of hope for the future. And then–then someone took that away. 

The sorry waste of life, the obsessive ex you vehemently feared, left behind a note for whomever found the tragedy: “I'll take care of them from now on.”

Sukuna knew there had to be more to it, there had to be more of an explanation, but the media wasn't interested; they only wanted to use and abuse your name and face for articles and news reports, not to reminisce on you nor the woe of a murder-suicide.

How come no one cared? Why did no one fucking care?

♪ Save your tears, it’ll be okay

All I know is you’re here with me ♪

He snapped. Sukuna kicked the dashboard. His boot cracked against the console again and again and again until your siren song died in a quick fit of static. He crashed his heel into the broken screen a dozen more times, each impact punching shout after shout out of his tight throat as the weight of the fucking sky collapsed on him. He wasn’t Atlas. He couldn’t hold it up. He never could, not by himself.

Sukuna heaved in breaths. His stomach swirled and churned with nausea. He held his head and leaned back, screaming into the thunder that shook the world with a vital roar, hiding heartbroken howls.

Why? Why? Why? 

“Deep breaths, Sukuna,” your voice cooed. It came from the darkness, from the forgotten corners of his mind. Why were–ah, right. He’d been here before, overcome with agony and grief. Unable to breathe, unable to cope, unable to exist.  

He followed your instructions. 

“In. Out. In. Out.”

In. Out. In. Out.

The phone rang again. Sukuna answered. He hoped whoever it was would tell him this was all just a bad joke. A bad dream. It wasn’t real. 

“Finally,” Wasuke sighed on the other end of the line. “Kid, where the fuck are you?”

Sukuna stared up at the roof of the car. Words smeared and oozed like molasses in his mind. He couldn’t understand the words he knew he could understand. 

“Sukuna.” 

“What the fuck do I do?” Sukuna asked. His voice quivered. Chipped and cracked.

His father fell quiet. But he was wise. So fucking wise and so good at everything that came with life and death, morality and love. 

“Become a better man,” he said, like it was so simple. 

Sukuna scoffed. “H-How the fuck–”

“Quiet, kid.” Wasuke sighed. “That boy loved you. He had faith in you as a partner and a father. Remember that. Honour that, and become the man he knew you could be.”

Sukuna didn’t know his heart could break more, but it did. 

He sobbed. To his father, to himself, to you, to that unborn joy, to whatever fuckhead created life and love in the first place. He cried for forgiveness, for a second shot. 

“I’ll try,” Sukuna bit out. “I’ll try.” 

–

♪ I wish I could live through every memory again

Just one more time before we float off in the wind ♪

Sukuna woke up to that song. It was the same one that played in his nightmares, the same one that robbed him of sleep until he lost his mind and–and–

“What the fuck happened?” Sukuna croaked to whatever singing nymph fluttered around him. 

The damn song stopped, leaving Sukuna in just a second of tumultuous silence. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

The rhythmic chirping of some machine–a heart monitor, maybe? A metronome?--kicked up into double time, jamming an ice pick into his skull further and further with every hellish second that passed by. He could almost hear the radio static, the warp of a ballad calling to him. And it wouldn't stop. It wouldn't stop. Why wouldn't it stop? Why? Why? Why?

“Hey,” your voice cooed. Your hand rested atop of Sukuna's and squeezed. “Can you hear me?” 

Sukuna cracked a tired eye open to look up at you; you were perfect. God-given. A blessing he needed to see right now with your gentle eyes and kind smile, the gentle scent of lavender and vanilla cutting through the disgusting sterility of the room. 

“Can hear you,” Sukuna rasped. His hand tried to turn to hold yours, and you helped by slipping your palm into his. His heart rate slowed with the rhythm of the machine. 

You nodded and covered your clasped hands with your other one. “Good. You probably don't remember, but you were in an accident. A car side-swiped you when you were on your motorcycle.”

“No shit.” 

“Yes shit. But you're alright. Would recommend wearing a helmet from now on.” You pat his hand before slipping both of yours free. “I'll call the doctor and your family. They'll be glad to know you're awake, Itadori-san.” 

He wanted to ask you to stay. He didn't want you to go, not right then, maybe not at all. 

But you flashed him another comforting smile and slipped out of the room before he could object.

–

His father came by. Jin and his son, too. Uraume and Yorozu scolded him for not wearing a helmet. The ragtag group of hooligans he unfortunately associated with (just for the sake of going to their fancy-ass parties, he reasoned) came and went, too; Gojo gave him headaches, Getou made it worse, Ieiri wasn’t so bad.

Then there was you. You were always humming some sort of tune, whether it be the song from his nightmares or something he'd never heard before. Sukuna liked it, the sound of your voice, but you'd always clam up the second you realized someone might hear. 

It led him to pretend to be asleep far too many times during his recovery. Your songs eased his wildfire spirit, let it simmer down and curl up comfortably in a ring of stones to keep those near safe and warm without the fear of being burned alive. Hell, they could probably even make some s’mores if they wanted. 

Eventually, though, Sukuna wanted to know more. And what better person to ask than the burgeoning med student herself?

“Oh, [Name]?” Ieiri asked, sitting beside Sukuna’s bed and looking over the machines connected to Sukuna with rapt attention. “He’s a new-ish nurse from what I get. Pretty cute, huh? Apparently passed his exams no problem and–” 

Sukuna rolled his eyes. “If you don’t know relevant shit then just–”

“He’s single. Omega. Likes men. Kinda older than us. Gojo and Getou got rejected already.” 

That shut Sukuna up. 

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Do You Love Me?

Astarion x Y/N - Drabble - 523 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, HEAVILY inspired by this scene in Bridgerton (plot belongs to them)

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

You and Astarion glared at each other, tensions high. So high, in fact that everyone else left camp to do gods know what just as long as it was away from you two. 

“Do you love me?” you asked him point blank.

He hesitated, “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Do you love me?” you asked again.

He looked at you with a pained expression, “I cannot.” he said defeated.

“Do you love me?” you repeated.

“Y/N please, stop.” he said, backing away slowly.

You followed him to the center of camp, not letting him walk away from whatever this was, “Is this because you believe that I cannot love you? Because I do…. I love you Astarion.” Sincerity shined in your eyes.

Astarion stared in disbelief, his mouth not able to produce words.

“I love you so much that I will go, if that is what you wish. I will do that. We can live our separate lives and once the tadpoles are dealt with you never have to see me again. But first you have to say you do not love me; you must tell me that I am utterly alone in this world.” 

He shook his head, trying to break your gaze but unable to, “I’m a monster Y/N. I am a danger. There are two sides in me fighting for power, it's as if the heavens and the hells are colliding.”

“Do you love me?” you asked with a wanting tone. 

“You do not wish a life for yourself with me!” he yelled, making you jump a bit “No one wishes it!”

“Astarion!” you yelled back not backing down, “I will stand with you between the heavens and the hells, I will tell you who you are, do you love me?” you said as you stood only a breath away from him.

“I love you!” he yelled, his voice wavering at the end. You could see unwanted tears welling up in his eyes. “From… from the moment you walked into camp I have loved you desperately; I cannot breathe when you are not near…. I love you Y/N… my heart calls your name.”

He looked at the ground, feeling weak for telling you everything he had tried desperately to keep bottled up and pushed down. He felt your hand cradle his face, bring him into a sweet kiss. He kissed you back fervently, but sobs escaped him after a moment.

“This… condition has been my shame for 200 years… this darkness... my burden for so long… and you… you are a light in that darkness.”

You ran your thumbs comfortingly over his sharp cheekbones, “Astarion, it's you and me. Just us. Together.”

Astarion scanned your face multiple times, looking for any indications of deception, yet all he found were kind eyes and a loving smile. His lips twitched upwards for the first time all night, Astarion pulled you back into a kiss, much deeper and full of passion. His arms enveloped you into a hug, your hands still holding his face. 

“I love you.” he breathed out just above a whisper.

“And I you, for eternity.” you reassured, kissing the tip of his nose. 

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello darlings, life has been a little busy lately but I wanted to give you a little snack of a drabble. I watched Bridgerton and all I could see in this scene was Astarion and Tav. All plot and rights belong to Bridgerton - idk how copyright works but I hope putting that keeps me from *cough* "legal issues". Anyyyyyy whoooooo - I hope you enjoy, I'll post again soon. Please comment, like, reblog or send me a request! Ilysm <3

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 44

Synopsis : Em and reader talk about the possibility of him retiring.

Author’s Note : hi guys 🌟. It’s been a while since I last updated Recovery. Here is a new chapter. I hope you guys like it ❤️.

You looked at Marshall, completely flabbergasted. You expected him to tell you it was a joke, that he wasn’t seriously thinking about retirement, but he looked awfully serious.

- You… you want to retire ?! You asked carefully.

- I’m thinking about it, he said. Look, babe… I’ve achieved everything I wanted when I first started. I gained respect. I worked with the people I admire most. I put out great music, I’ve toured the world, I’ve won awards… I made a fuck ton of money, that my grandchildren and even their children will benefit from. And let’s be honest : I’m fifty-two. It’s not stupid to think about retirement.

You looked at him intently, taking in everything he said. Sure, it made sense, on some level. But it also felt wrong. And weird. The man you met and fell in love with put music first and foremost, was a workaholic and would never have thought of retirement as an option. He had often joked about it, sure, especially in moments of frustration, but never in earnest. You sighed and held his hand.

- I know it makes sense, you said softly. But I know music is everything to you. And I know that you’re in a shitty situation right now, but maybe there are changes you could make ? Adjustments ?

- Sounds like something Paul would say, he chuckled. I don’t know. I’m just considering it. I often toy with the idea of disappearing from the public. Wouldn’t it be great if everyone forgot about me ? Like, not my music, but just me ? I’d be able to go places, enjoy life.

- I’m sure we can still do that, you said.

- You know, if I retired, it could benefit you as well, he pointed out. I’d have more time. Maybe be less of a grumpy asshole.

- I can’t imagine you not making music, you said.

- I’ll always have ideas, he said. It’s in my DNA at this point. But I don’t know… maybe be more of a producer ? Again, I’m just thinking, here.

- Whatever you decide, I’ll support you, you said. I love you no matter what. I just want you to be happy.

- As long as I have you, I’ll be happy, he assured you.

He pulled you to him and kissed you lovingly. You enjoyed the sunset for a minute and drove back to the house. You were about to watch a movie when you heard a knock on the door. It was Paul.

- What are you doing here ? Marshall greeted him curtly.

- Checking in on you, the manager said. You’re not answering anyone’s calls. How are you doing ?

- You know how I’m doing, he replied dryly.

- Still mad at me ? Paul asked.

- Yeah. Let me in so we can talk ?

Marshall let him in silently and sat on the couch and Paul greeted you. You were not too sure why Marshall was mad at him, though. As far as you knew, the manager hadn’t done anything wrong. You weren’t his biggest fan but you secretly hoped he would talk some sense into your boyfriend. You meant every word when you said you would be there for him no matter what, but you couldn’t imagine him retiring. Not when it came from a place of frustration and disappointment. Had he told you his inspiration had run dry, things would have been different, but this wasn’t the case and you knew it.

- I know what Tracy did is hard to swallow, Paul said tentatively.

- It’s not about Tracy, Marshall said. I mean, it is. But a full severance package… Really ?! She fucked me over, Paul. Not only me but Y/N, too. And you as well.

- You might want to let me explain, the manager said calmly.

- Yeah, your boyfriend scoffed. I’d love to know why you let her leave Shady Records with a fuckton of money and benefits for a whole year.

- She threatened to sue, his friend said.

- Sue who ? Marshall said heatedly. Us ? She’s the one who leaked the track ! She’s the one who put my career and my relationship in jeopardy ! Why the fuck would she sue us ?!?!

- Not us, Paul hummed. Y/N.

- Me ?! You asked in shock.

You were taken aback. First of all, Marshall hadn’t mentioned Paul affording Tracy tons of benefits when letting her go. Though, now that you thought about it, it further explained his bad mood. And second of all… threatening to sue you ?! That woman had some nerve. Yes, you had « broken her nose » (as far as you thought, it was just a punch) but suing… really ?

- That’s ridiculous, you scoffed.

- Is it ? Paul hummed. You did assault her !

- Don’t talk to her like that, Marshall said defensively as he protectively wrapped an arm around you.

- Merely stating facts, Paul shrugged. I understand the anger, Y/N. As I understand yours, Marshall. But the thing is, Tracy threatened to sue and I had to make the best decision. For the business and for you personally. Both of you. It’s better to lose a couple of hundred of thousands of dollars than to have to deal with unwanted media attention.

- Thank you, Paul, you said with genuine gratefulness.

- Thanks, man, Marshall said more calmly.

- I’m as pissed as you are, Paul said. But now we have to move forward. We’ll find a replacement eventually. It will probably take two people, but we’ll make it work.

- Did she do that much ? You asked.

- She did, Marshall said. Both as my assistant and Paul’s right hand.

- I have already contacted a head-hunter, we will soon have profiles to review, the manager said. In the meantime, I’m handling things.

- You can hire someone to assist you, but I’m not getting a personal assistant, Marshall declared.

The way he said it definitely seemed solemn and definitive. His manager looked at him calmly, much like a parent looks at a stubborn child.

- You don’t exactly have a choice, Paul tried to reason. You need someone to help you. I can’t do it all.

- I don’t care, Marshall groaned. You really think I’m going to let someone in again ? Have them around my house ? My kids ? Y/N ?! No way, bro. I’d rather manage my schedule myself. If there’s one to manage, that is.

You expected the manager to have some sort of big reaction but he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t even seemed phased by the possibility that Marshall considered retirement as a serious option after all the events that had unfolded.

- It’s only been a week, Paul finally said after a few seconds of silence.

- I know, Marshall replied. But after what happened… maybe it’s a sign. You know as much as i do that we need people we can trust.

- And you know as much as I do that you can’t decide to stop everything right now, the manager replied. Look… if you need to take a step back, that’s fine. But we still have obligations. Both towards artists you’re collaborating with, as well as promoting the album. The music video shoot at the bare minimum.

- Right, Marshall said. When is that again ?

- Late January, Paul said. Look… here’s what we’re going to do : you’re going to take some rest, enjoy the holidays. I’m cancelling your scheduled studio sessions until January. And I’m not adding anything to your schedule either. But we have to proceed with what’s been planned already.

- I guess, Marshall replied gloomily. Thanks, man.

They spent a couple of minutes talking about the aforementioned music video. You hadn’t heard about the plans to film one previously but, apparently, Track 12 - the song Marshall had written for you - having turned into a fan favorite quickly after the album release, his team had suggested making a music video. The whole plan had been made since before his tour, with a script already being finalized, casting being done and everything. In truth, the whole thing made you uneasy. People might not connect the dots and associate that song to you but the most recent events made you a bit nervous. You loved the track, it was beautiful. But you also knew that him making a music video would give the song and his personal life that much more attention.

- Are you ok ? Marshall asked as he grabbed your hand. You look like you zoned out for a minute.

- I’m thinking, that’s all, you hummed.

- About what ? Marshall asked.

- Obviously, it’s not my place to tell you what to do, but… do you really want to do this ? You shyly asked. I know people love this song. God knows I love it too but… it’s personal business.

- I know, he said softly. But I’m proud of this track. I think it’s one of the best I’ve ever made. So… if I have to make one last music video, it might as well be this one. Plus, we’ve had the script for ages. I can swear it is tasteful and it’s going to be great.

- Not to mention that we’ve already spent a lot of money on making this happen, Paul hummed.

- Yeah, that too, Marshall shrugged.

- Right, you said flatly.

- I’ll show you the script, your boyfriend offered. And since it might be my last-

- Nothing’s set in stone yet, the manager recalled. You take a break and we’ll see then.

- Whatever, Marshall said. All I’m saying is… I’ll make sure it’s perfect. You can even come on set with me.

- We’ll see, you said nervously.

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your temple before going back to his conversation with Paul. They discussed some plans that had been made for the beginning of the upcoming year, some work trips, collaborations. And even though the manager understood Marshall’s wish of possibly taking a step back, he was adamant that they hire an assistant.

- We won’t need one if it’s for six months, Marshall hummed.

- I don’t think you realize everything that needs to be done, Paul groaned. I won’t have the time to assist you in everything. And last time I checked, you needed a lot of help in managing your schedule. I’m your manager and business partner, I don’t have time to be your mother, Marshall.

- Don’t treat me like a kid, man.

- Then don’t act like a bratty one, Paul said. You need someone to help you and you know it.

- No I don’t !

- The arrangements for your upcoming trips to NYC and Hawaii didn’t plan themselves, the manager argued. Neither did your medical appointments in the last twenty years. Or any of your work meetings. And don’t get me started in everything that needs to be done when you’re on a set.

- Whatever, Marshall groaned. The only people I would trust besides my immediate family are in this room : me, you, and Y/N. I’m not hiring a fucking stranger.

- For all I care, you could hire Y/N, Paul snapped. My point is : we have work to do, and I’m not letting Tracy’s departure ruin it. Neither should you.

Marshall groaned and mumbled something. His stance was defensive and he clearly didn’t want to be having this conversation. Months ago, you wouldn’t have expected to see eye to eye with Paul on anything, but there you were. Until Paul brought your name in the conversation, that is.

- Maybe you could step up to the plate, Y/N, Paul said.

- I don’t know how to say this but… no, you said. Don’t get me wrong, I want you guys to succeed. But find someone else.

- Look, it’s not a very hard job-, Paul started.

- With all due respect, Paul, I’m a scholar, you said. I’ve worked hard for my degree and, though I understand you mean well, the perspective of making coffee and appointments for Marshall is below me.

- Fine, Paul sighed. I’ll send you some profile of possible candidates, Marshall. And if you don’t choose someone by early January, I will.

- Great, Marshall said.

- Until then, I have handled your travel arrangements for next week and Christmas, he added. You’re welcome.

- Thanks man, your boyfriend said. I appreciate it.

Paul got up and grabbed his jacket, preparing to leave. Before crossing the threshold, he turned to you.

- Take care of him, will you ?

- I will, you said with a smile. Thanks, Paul.

- Good luck with him, he added with a chuckle.

As he left, you felt Marshall’s arms wrap around you and he buried his face in your neck.

- He’s annoying, he said.

- So are you, you hummed.

- Really ? He asked.

- You’re stubborn.

- It’s my life, I can do whatev-

- He cares about you, you said.

- Since when do you defend Paul ? He asked with a groan.

- Since I agree with him, you said as you ran your fingers through his hair. You shouldn’t let Tracy ruin things for you. Besides, I’m grateful he avoided a lawsuit.

- She wouldn’t have, Marshall shrugged. Simply wanted more money, I guess.

- Anyway… you didn’t tell me you planned on traveling, you hummed as you changed the subject.

- Because baldy ruined the surprise, Marshall said. I made plans for us to spend a couple of days in New York next week. To do some Christmas shopping. And after Christmas, we’re flying to Hawaii. Spending New Year’s Eve just the two of us.

- Really ?! You asked. Oh my God, you’re the best !

You turned and engulfed him in a hug. He gave you a smile and kissed you lovingly.

- I figured you’d enjoy it, he said with a grin.

- Christmas shopping in New York ! You shrieked. Do you do this every year ?

- Absolutely not, he chuckled. But you’re always watching these corny movies, so I thought you’d enjoy it. Plus, seeing as my kids think I’m a monster… I should probably suck up to them with presents.

- They don’t think you’re a monster, you argued. They love you.

- You should have seen the intervention when that track leaked, he sighed. I know they love me but I can tell they’re disappointed. I really want to make it up to them for the holidays.

You nodded and kissed him, promising that your first Christmas together with his family would be great. You wanted nothing more than for him to have a good time and, hopefully, he would go back to work in a few weeks feeling more like himself and energized.

A FEW DAYS LATER - MARSHALL’S POV

They had spend the next days planning their first holidays together. Christmas was approaching and they wanted to make it count. Marshall could tell Y/N wanted to cheer him up and, as for him, he could feel that not being on talking terms with her Dad was getting to her. Whether it was with his family or just the two of them, he wanted to make sure she would have the perfect Christmas she deserved. And if it meant putting up with his girl humming All I Want For Christmas and watching countless crappy movies, so be it. Same for decorating the house. He was usually a bit grumpy around the holidays, what with his childhood and everything. If it weren’t for his loved ones, he probably wouldn’t make a fuss about it but as long as they were happy, he didn’t mind putting up with the whole folklore. And the perspective of seeing his girl all giddy and excited when she’d admire the Christmas lights in NYC was pretty nice. He was packing his bag for the next day when he received a call from Kim, who asked if she could swing by his place to talk. He thought she wanted to coordinate with him for their daughters’ presents, but she specified that they needed to be alone. It was a little suspicious but he told her to come by anyway, since Y/N was spending the day with Talia and Jamal.

- What’s up, Kim? He asked as she entered the house. Everything alright ?

- All good, she said with a smile. I came to give you your Christmas present.

- You haven’t given me a present in fifteen years, he stated matter-of-factly. Also… it’s not Christmas yet.

- I couldn’t give it to you with other people around.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate. She just smiled and handed him an envelope.

- What’s this ? He asked.

- You’ve looked out for me since we were fifteen, she said. This is me looking out for you.

He frowned, not exactly seeing what she was getting at. He opened the envelope and, much to his surprise, he found divorce papers.

- What’s that ? He asked.

- Your passport to freedom, she said with a smile. I saw how happy you are with Y/N, at Thanksgiving. She’s good for you. You even told me she’s the love of your life.

- She is, he nodded. She really is. I don’t know how she does it, but she manages to put up with my shit. And she makes me happy.

- So we agree that it doesn’t make sense to stay married to me, she simply stated. I knew you’d never ask me for a divorce, so I’m doing it. I don’t want you to have regrets.

- I’ll never regret marrying you a third time, he hummed. I did what I had to do for you and the kids. You needed me.

- And now you need to think about yourself, she said with a smile. And we both know you can’t be fully happy with her if you’re still secretly married to me.

- I guess you’re right, he agreed. Are you sure, though ?

- I’m good, she assured him. I’m not going to lie, it’s weird. But I’m sober. I’m healthy. I don’t need your help anymore. And as soon as you sign these papers, you’re free. I mean, there’s still a procedure but… it’s our third divorce, so you know how it works.

He chuckled and nodded before looking at the divorce papers again. He was touched by Kim’s kindness. She really was looking out for him. Still, it was bittersweet. Keeping this secret from everyone in his life had been tough but, on some level, it was hard to let go. She seemed to pick up on it right away.

- You know you’ll still have to put up with me, right, old man ? She joked.

- Yeah, I know, he said with a smile. It’s weird, that’s all.

- I was a lousy wife anyway, she chuckled. You won’t miss it.

- And I was a bad husband, he continued.

- Not the third time around, she remarked. This marriage has been pretty peaceful.

- For you, yeah, he grinned. I still put you through rehab and lost sleep over you for a while.

- Shut up, she giggled as she rolled her eyes. I’m trying to be a good wife, here.

- You are, he said emotionally as he brought her into a hug. It’s the nicest thing you’ve done for me.

They hugged each other tightly. It was clearly emotional for the both of them. She was right : he never would have asked for a divorce, but he was grateful that she did. He kissed her cheek and went to put the papers in his office.

- I’ll get you a good divorce settlement, he said. It’s the least I can do.

- You’ve done enough, she said. But thanks.

- Promise me you’ll take care ?

- Promise, she said with a smile. Promise me you won’t fuck it up ?

- Promise, he said. Enough fuck ups. I really though I’d lost her when that track leaked, you know ?

- I bet, she said. But I was happy for you when Hailie told me she came back and forgave you.

- Yeah. We’re working through it but we’re good. She deserves an award for supporting me and putting up with everything I’ve done, Marshall said.

- I think there’s one, she chuckled. It’s called an engagement ring.

[alohaasaloevera]

guys I’m honestly happy that klance didn’t become canon because I love how as a collective group of people we utilize our right to explore what could have been and create the most smoking hot scenarios ever and yes I obviously wanted more of their friendship growing into this bond stronger than anything else in the universe especially since Voltron has teamwork and family as one of their main lessons but that’s more of a development issue all around…ok besides that there’s something about klance where it provides this PERFECT environment for shippers to inhabit and FEAST upon. With klance, there’s a solid, engaging dynamic between the two set up, which is this weird one-sided rivalry that stems from Lance’s insecurity and his need to prove himself of his worth and Keith literally being one of the best pilots for his age but since they’re flung into space and chosen to become child soldiers in this 10,000 year old intergalactic war so they have to work as a team which surprise surprise forces them to put aside their differences and work as a team which is shown a bunch when Keith needs to become a leader and Lance steps up as his right hand and and they have some kinda tender moments that won’t definitely drive shippers into a shipping craze (or worse) SO YEAH you could see why people loved it with all the classic tropes and mutual growth all that schmooze (ALSO THEY KNEW EACHOTHER BEFORE THE MAIN PLOT??? Well maybe not like friends or even acquaintances probably BUT HELLO?????? EVEN MORE SHIT TO EXPAND ON????), and they share multiple scenes that could be interpreted as romantic but there’s no explicit romance. This environment is fucking dripping drenched flash flooded cornered by 1000ft tsunamis in all directions with potential for shipping, so when people saw this relationship between two bros with this sort of homoerotic (IM JOKING. Kinda.) unresolved tension towards each other and the POTENTIAL for a good slow burn rivals to friends to lovers, it was to no one’s surprise that they went APESHIT. Klancers made countless different ways where they get together whether it be pre-Kerberos, post-gettingthefuckoutofearth, the start of the show, the end of the show, after the end of the show, right smack in the middle, anywhere, anytime, for who the fuck knows why just ANY REASON DAMN IT it doesn’t really matter because people were pumping out fanfiction or fan art or any fan media of klance faster than I spit out a raw baby carrot after chewing it for one second and now we’re all wallowing about how it should have been KICK but the thing is that if VLD did KICK all the way to Altea, the production of these beautiful stories that so many people have and still are coming up with about klance kissing in midst of a battle, helping each other with their crippling nightmares, smiling for the stars or some other sad premise, and whatever is nestled in his pulse…just like uhhh the amount of fics like these that go into great detail about Keith and Lance in these random situations that end up with them getting together being produced would go down to some degree because of the fact that if the people’s beloved sharpshooter and samurai had ended up together like we had wanted, and the majority was satisfied with the ending the creators had given, people would have shifted from writing about “How could Lance and Keith get together?” to writing about “What could Lance and Keith do now that they’re together?” And like. There’s nothing wrong with that honestly I would be HYPED if klance was ever canon but there is profound beauty in the way the community is able to create more from less and turn a show that went to shit in the last few seasons shine even brighter than it did at its prime. Like I wouldn’t trade my favorite fics 4 anything.

—

Ok another little thing I’m going to put here: With Klance, all I wanted was for them to be great friends 😭😭😭. I tend to prefer klance becoming canon in later seasons or at the end or even an open ending with no confirmed romantic relationships because I am a sucker for character development and the idea of Keith and Lance both harboring these feelings that at first are just admiration and respect but then escalate to yearning for one another or becoming close friends at the end of the show and getting to imagine anything I want post canon is EVERYTHING if you give me S7 Garrison klance I’ll keel over and thank you like I was a second away from dying of thirst and your gift was a truck load of water

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 16: Teatime

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer from a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: 18+ - explicit sexual content, drug use Word count: 4.4k

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The next day Aubrey Hall continued to teem with activity under the watchful eyes of the Duke and Duchess. Benedict notified Mr. Dewitt that Sophie would be retained as a member of the housekeeping staff during the country visit. If the steward had any thoughts about the whiplash instructions he was receiving in regards to the newly arrived maid, he was wise enough not to betray them. 

Benedict’s mind hadn’t stopped whirring since his encounter with Sophie in the drawing room the previous day. After returning from the lake, his sister gave no indication that she suspected anything untoward. It seemed their secret was safe. But how much longer could they carry on like this, sneaking through hallways in the dead of night, scurrying into unoccupied rooms? The risk of their discovery would increase tenfold when the family and guests started to arrive. Sophie was correct that they would need to actively avoid one another. He hadn’t even contemplated what would happen at the conclusion of his family’s hosting duties when he would be expected to return to London. 

In the midst of his colliding thoughts, all he could think of was his need for Sophie; his yearning to watch her lips part as he made her gasp, his hunger to make her come apart, his ache to hold her in his arms. He set up an easel in his bedchamber and tried to unleash his feelings on a canvas, but found himself lost in daydreams of her. Rash as it may have been, he sent word to the kitchen specifically requesting that Sophie bring him his tea.

His heart bounded when she opened the door, tray balanced on her hip as he had seen her so many times before while convalescing. Her smile was brighter than the sunlight streaming through the windows. 

She set the tea tray on a table and curtsied. “Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Sophie.” Her name left his lips with a sigh of relief. “Are we not done with formalities when we are alone together?”

She returned a coy smile. “Very well, Ben. I assume you summoned me for a reason. Would you like me to sit for my portrait?”

He stepped toward her, feeling a stab of guilt that he could never seem to concentrate long enough in her presence to complete his work. “I certainly intend to finish your portrait. That is a gift I promised you. But I’m afraid my thoughts are too preoccupied to give it the attention it deserves at the moment.

“Preoccupied?” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as he closed the distance between them and ran his knuckles across her cheek.

“Anticipation of my family’s arrival. And thoughts of you. Knowing we must keep our distance once they arrive.” 

“Yes, we must.” Sophie swallowed, feeling the familiar bloom of heat just from his proximity. 

“But we have today.” Benedict nuzzled against her cheek, delighting in her scent, the faintest hint of amber and vanilla. 

Sophie’s eyes rolled closed and she grew pliant in his arms, but her mind still registered the risk of their encounters. “The Duke and Duchess…”

“Are calling at Romney Hall nearby,” he explained. “My sister is a friend of Lady Crane. She is ill and won’t be able to attend the visit.”

“The children?”

Benedict snickered. “Are with their army of nurses. The time is ours.” He pressed his lips to hers, soft and plush, and she was bereft of any further protest. “I wanted to ask if you’d like to…join me in calming my thoughts?”

“How do you mean?” Sophie asked, noting the mischievous flicker across his features, his crooked grin triggering a spark of excitement.

“An elixir procured by my younger brother in his travels. Whatever it may be, I find it both soothes the nerves and opens my mind to artistic inspiration. When paired with a canvas it helps me produce some of my most…experimental work.” He ran a hand gently through her hair, gazing at her as if she were his greatest muse. “It’s an experience unlike any other, and one that I’d like to share with you, if you are willing.”

Sophie was surprised by his offer, that he was inviting her to join him in more than just carnal pleasures. She had never tried any such substances, but assumed the effects must be different than strong drink. On a few occasions she had indulged enough to experience drunkenness with her fellow servants, usually on holidays. She found the sensation not unpleasant, a numbing carefree haze, but it did have a way of stealing joy from the following day when she would wake with a headache and bitter mouth. But she trusted Benedict implicitly. He would ensure her enjoyment as he introduced her to something new.

“How does one take this elixir?” She asked.

“A powder added to tea.” He wiggled his eyebrows and moved about the room, producing a small pouch from a drawer in his writing desk and shaking it playfully before resting it beside the teapot. “Medicinal in a way not unlike your tinctures, but entirely unique.”

Nodding her consent, Sophie sat across from Benedict at the small table and watched as he poured them each a cup of tea and added small spoonfuls of the pouch’s vibrant purple powder. He stirred and handed her the mixture, insisting she take the first sip. Tentatively, she brought it to her lips.

“You may wish to hold your nose,” Benedict coached. “The smell and taste can be a bit foul.”

Sophie did detect a whiff of something pungent, vegetal but charred somehow. Holding her breath, she took a full sip and scrunched up her face as the aftertaste withered her tongue.

“Ugh,” she grimaced as Benedict giggled. “You claim this makes you feel better?”

“Give it a moment,” he grinned. “You will see.”

___

In what felt like no time at all, Sophie became aware of her altered state. A single cup of Benedict’s mystery tea and she found herself able to count the motes of dust that floated in the shafts of sunlight. As opposed to the numbing effect of alcohol, she found her mind and body heightened in awareness. She was fascinated by the friction of her dress against her skin, the tactile surface of the table and the fine china, and the colors of the fabrics throughout the room. Having drunk his own cup, Benedict seemed to be fixated on color too. After ensuring she was feeling well, he had gone to his easel and was blending oil paints directly with his fingers on both palette and canvas, making sweeping motions with his arms, entirely lost to inspiration. 

Sophie didn’t know how long she lazed in her chair watching him. The tea made time seem untrackable and irrelevant. She certainly did feel her nerves calmed and mind opened. She was content to simply gaze at Benedict, the man she secretly loved, drinking in the sight of him and every feature she adored. His tousled dark hair, his animated brow, pale blue eyes locked on his work, lopsided smirk appraising what he was crafting. Her focus narrowed to the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, the tendons flexing in his muscular neck, and the veins surging in his paint-streaked forearms. He had rolled his sleeves to the elbows but was otherwise fully dressed in a floral patterned waistcoat and pinned cravat, and for some reason this struck her as aggravating. With every inch of her skin sensitized in a way she had never known before, she wanted to touch and be touched, to taste and be tasted, to learn what it felt like to ascend to the plane of bliss when she already felt herself high above any clouds.

With a boldness that surprised even herself she rose, marched to Benedict’s side, took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. Light danced behind her eyelids as the sweet flavor of his lips cascaded over her own. Benedict froze, holding his hands to either side so as not to cover her in paint.

Sophie pulled back and they both chuckled, heady with the closeness of each other as much as with the tea. Kissing him again, she found herself entirely absent of inhibition. With his hands unavailable she was in control and the realization was undeniably thrilling. There was something she had been longing to try and now was the perfect moment.

Continuing to savor him, her hands went to work unwinding his cravat. Benedict stood still, humming in amusement as they kissed. Once the fabric was in her hands, cool and slippery, she moved to stand behind him. On tiptoe she wrapped the dark blue silk around his eyes and knotted it in the back.

“Blind man’s bluff?” Benedict quipped, sounding befuddled.

“Shh.” Sophie giggled as she moved back to face him and contemplated her next move. The buttons on his waistcoat were slowly unfastened and the garment slipped carefully over his technicolor arms and onto the floor. Biting her lip, she snapped his braces against his chest causing him to gasp before she pulled them down from his shoulders. Next was his shirt. Sophie could hear him breathing harder as she pulled the hem from his waistband. She leaned to his ear and whispered, “Raise your arms.”

Giving himself over to her direction, Benedict grinned uncontrollably as she undressed him. He did as he was told, lifting his arms in front of himself to accommodate her height and she pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it across the room. He stood before her blindfolded and shirtless, chest heaving, trousers jutting out unnaturally with his stiffness. Feeling more seductive than ever before, she traced a finger from his jaw down his neck, chest and abdomen, admiring. He was muscled, athletic, and his pale skin was so soft, smelling of soap and his oil paints. Sophie knelt down to pull off his boots, running her hand lightly down the front of his trousers on her way, causing him to hiss from the sensation.

“Lift your feet.” He obeyed and she pulled off his boots and stockings. Sophie remembered the night at the inn where she had awkwardly relieved him of his clothing out of necessity. This was a decidedly more pleasurable echo of that encounter. They were both breathing quite hard now, knowing there was only one more garment left to remove. Sophie remained on her knees and reached up, slowly unbuttoning his trousers. His hands clenched into fists and she could see him gritting his jaw. She smiled as she slid the last of his clothes down and bid him to step out of them. Now he was nude and erect with anticipation. She delayed a moment, waiting to strike. She would surprise him. She knew he was expecting her hands; how she usually touched him. She would skip that step.

Benedict gasped as her hot, wet mouth encircled him. It was a shock to his system, standing naked and blind in excruciating silence, broken suddenly by his cock being devoured. He reached out to hold her head but she swatted his hand away, reminding him of how soiled they were. Groaning through clenched teeth he fought to stand still and just let her have her way with him. It was agony and paradise combined, a flood of feelings as his swirling senses honed in on her attentions. The minx inside sweet Sophie had been unleashed by the tea and he was both proud and humbled that she was offering her own form of experimentation to match his. 

At long last Sophie was fulfilling her wish to take Benedict in her mouth, to show him just how fervently she longed to please him, to worship his body as he had worshipped hers. She found the act surprisingly enjoyable, knowing the power she wielded from her knees. Hearing the needy sounds he made and looking up to see his mouth hung open with awe gave her her own satisfaction in turn. After a few pulls along his manhood she leaned back. “How is this, Ben? Inspirational?” She flicked her tongue across his tip.

He groaned, legs buckling. “Yes, Sophie. It’s…you’re wonderful. Just…just like this. Your lips are like the kiss of heaven.” She chuckled, knowing he would likely spout something poetic even if they were not under the influence. Motivated to push him even higher into the firmament, she leaned forward to consume him again. She tried different motions, licking and sucking, back and forth, her tongue dancing around his veins, her hand rising to join her mouth in stroking. Whenever Benedict moaned above her, she persisted with that action. 

Then she tested herself, seeing how deeply she could take him. Slowly, she pushed further and further toward his body, pulling him into her mouth, relaxing every muscle she knew how. She knew he was in her throat once she could no longer breathe. An odd, somewhat alarming sensation but she felt in control. Staying relaxed she began to move gently, sucking him as before, letting him penetrate an entirely new area of her body. Having the most intimate part of him warm and heavy in her mouth was a comfort and sin she could never have imagined.

Benedict positively shouted with surprise as he breached Sophie’s throat. He instinctively tore the cravat from his eyes, looked down and saw her face practically flush with his pelvis, eyes closed in concentration as she rocked back and forth. He was buried so deep that when she finally gagged, he felt as if he were swallowed, squeezed with a pressure and heat that threatened to topple him. He shuddered, mind gone completely blank. Sophie pulled back and came up for air, gasping after his entire length slid out of her beautiful mouth. She wiped her lips on the back of her hand and smiled up at him, looking proud of herself.

“Sophie Beckett, you marvelous creature,” he beamed down at her. With a smug gleam in her eyes she set herself on him again and Benedict rocketed skyward. He murmured praise and suggestions, hips beginning to thrust as she sucked him eagerly. She had a natural talent with her tongue that he knew was liable to destroy him. The warmth of her mouth, the suction of her lips, the challenge in her dewy eyes gazing up at him, it grew too much to bear. As he felt himself nearing the peak he pulled back.

“Sophie, I’m…I am nearly there.”

“Good,” she smiled, tearing away the collar of her uniform and beginning to loosen her frock. Benedict watched, agog as she undressed, stripping down to the waist. Then she wrapped a warm hand around his length and began to pump, her breasts bare and bobbing hypnotically as she stroked him. Whatever fire had been lit within her, he vowed to keep it tended. Gazing at each other open mouthed, she commanded him softly but intently. “Come on me.”

Seeing and hearing how hungry she was for his release brought it to fruition in a moment. Knowing nothing but the wave of ecstasy beginning to spasm through his body, Benedict needed to stabilize himself before he jettisoned off of the earth. His hands fell to Sophie’s shoulders and gripped tight, smearing her in a rainbow of fingerprints as he dropped his head with a cry. Painting her in two ways at once, his breath escaped in halting gasps as she milked him onto her chest. 

Sophie never stopped her movements, coaxing him through the aftershocks. When Benedict fell to his knees before her panting, she grinned with devilish victory. She was just as capable of reducing him to a breathless mess as he could her. It made her feel closer to him, more trusted, and more desirable.

“Sophie,” Benedict marveled at her, barely able to muster words. “I’m sorry. Your shoulders…”

He pointed at the streaks that ran across her skin. She looked down and saw the epaulets she had earned. Bright ornaments of sinful endeavors. The fingerprints of her lover seared into her for all to see. The whole room was twinkling in a dazzling spectrum before her eyes and she felt honored to be made a part of it. With a twist of her lips she collected the palette he had dropped nearby and dipped her fingers into a sky blue shade, then swiped it gently across his abdomen, coloring him as well.

Benedict looked at her quizzically, then she ran a purple thumb across his jaw. Catching on, he wet his fingers in forest green and brushed them across her cheeks. Giggling, Sophie next took a daub of orange and swirled it in circles across her chest, blending it with his seed, painting herself with his essence. Benedict swallowed hard, dumbfounded, and then found himself moving like a man possessed, stripping her of her remaining clothing, hauling her up onto the settee and burying his face between her legs. 

The day progressed as a gauzy fantasy, the two of them wrapped in intoxicated wonder and all the sensations they could gift each other. They lost count of their climaxes, Sophie returning time and time again to swallow Benedict and bob her head until he gasped her name, and Benedict on his knees in equal measure, sucking her furiously as she bounced against his tongue. After the poetry they penned with their moans, they broke to make art with their flesh, painting arcs, swirls and handprints across skin, gradients of desire and whimsy, blending with their own juices, traces of themselves ending up on the canvas which had clattered to the floor.

Hours later as the sun began to set, they found themselves looking like madmen, wrapped in sheets, disheveled and covered in streaks of paint from head to toe. Benedict had the presence of mind to wrap Sophie in one of his shirts and hide her in the bedroom next door while he donned a robe and called for a bath. He didn’t much care what the maids thought of seeing him smeared with paint with his hair standing on end. It wouldn’t be the first time he had ended up like this after a dose of the powder.

Working together and casting him sideways glances, Finian and Lizzie brought a large copper tub to his room and filled it with steaming water. Lizzie scented it with oil and a sudsy soap that left bubbles floating on the surface. When they finally exited, Benedict collected Sophie again and locked the door behind them. She giggled helplessly while he stripped her of what little she was wearing and helped her step into the steaming water. She shivered and sank down, allowing the water to rise above her shoulders and neck, even right up to her nose, and then closed her eyes. It felt like heaven.

“Lean forward,” Benedict murmured, kneeling on the floor beside her. She did, and sighed with pleasure as he began to wash her back, making clouds of red and yellow paint swirl into the water. 

“We’ll make you all shiny and new again,” he grinned, kissing her shoulder as he scrubbed her arms. Sophie leaned forward and rested her forehead on her bent knees, blushing.

“Dunk your head so I can wash your hair,” he ordered.

She slid under the water, a magical, enveloping sensation while she still felt the fuzzy influence of the tea, and then quickly came back up. 

The green streaks of paint on her cheeks started to run down the length of her face. But rather than make her look wretched, Benedict thought it gave her a phantasmal beauty. It made her eyes glow as he had never seen them - glittering emeralds refracting all the light in the room. He rubbed the paint from her face with his thumb as she held his gaze. He suddenly found that it was hard to breathe. Probably a side effect of the tea. 

He busied himself by rubbing the bar of soap in his hands and then began to work the lather through her hair. “Do you prefer your hair short?” he asked.

“I had to cut it,” she said. “I sold it to a wigmaker.”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought she might have heard him growl.

“It used to be much shorter,” she added.

“Back under.” 

She dunked back in the tub, swirling her head this way and that under the water before coming back up for air. 

Benedict cupped his hands and filled them with water. “You’ve still got some in the back,” he said, letting the water pour over her hair.

Sophie let him repeat the process a few times, until all the paint was removed as far as she could tell and the water had turned a milky purple. “Aren’t you coming in?” She raised an eyebrow and was met with that cheeky lopsided grin.

Benedict let his robe fall to the floor and stepped in across from her. He groaned with pleasure as he lowered himself, immediately dunking under the water and smoothing back his hair. Sophie took the cloth and went to work scrubbing his fingers, his arms, every inch of him. Their incessant giggling was fading into pleasurable hums and sighs as they caressed each other in the water, gently, curiously. They kissed each other’s necks, arms, foreheads. There was a chastity to it despite that they were fully nude together after an outrageously lascivious afternoon.

Sophie was drained. It had been without a doubt the wildest and most exploratory day of her life thus far. She knew she was still under the giddy haze of the tea but her senses were growing sharper. Time slowly seemed to be returning to its normal rate and her mind was quieting. The last of its effects, the joy of being with Benedict, and the warmth of the lapping water made her euphoric. Benedict had leaned back against his end of the tub, eyes closed. Sophie couldn't stretch out her legs underwater without awkwardly laying on top of him, so she planted her feet to frame his head which made him look up and chuckle. She grinned and bent an elbow over the side, resting her head on her arms. Benedict ran his hands lazily over her knees and the two of them sat in contented silence, descending from their high and soaking up all the heat the water could offer.

Benedict stared at Sophie, resting serenely as glinting water droplets ran across her collarbone. She was dazzling. Never a word that he had thought to associate with a housemaid but it was truly how he felt. Where in the world had she come from? This beautiful, daring and exciting woman whose wit, moods, pleasures and interests so perfectly aligned with his own? He genuinely wondered if she had worked in the Cavender house at all and wasn’t some faerie that had wandered out of the woods to enchant him. These days alone with her in the country had been some of the happiest he had experienced with a woman. He was ready to find her an apartment in London, to send her there with an allowance to buy anything she fancied, and to have all of her servant’s clothes burned. He could do it tomorrow. She shouldn’t spend another day working for his family.

“Why do you want to keep working at this ball?” He asked her.

Sophie lifted her head, brow furrowed. “So I can earn some money.”

Benedict sat up and leaned toward her. “You don’t need to earn money. I’ll take care of you.” He pressed his torso against hers and murmured, “I can give you whatever you want.”

Whether it was her pride or some courage gifted to her by the tea, Sophie felt no fear in being honest with him. “I don’t want you to.” Her voice was more stern than she had intended and he scowled. 

“Why can’t we just stay like this? Have this time together?” She nuzzled against his neck and planted a soft kiss on his lips. This was everything she wanted, or at least everything that she could reasonably have with Benedict. She would never experience her dreams of marrying him, or walking on his arm in public, or being with him forever. But she could have these days, weeks or even months if she were lucky, where they enjoyed each other’s company and bodies, and she was grateful for it. Incredibly grateful. It wasn’t perfect, but it was closer to her dreams than she could have ever imagined over the past two years. She would cherish these days forever, but she refused to hinge her hopes or her future on them, when they would never lead to anything.

“I don’t want to be kept somewhere,” she confessed. “Locked in a pretty box for you to play with.”

Benedict pulled back, looking insulted. “Why?”

Sophie sighed, overcome with the weight of her emotions and a wave of approaching sleep. “Because it can’t last forever and I will need work to fall back on.” She rested her head back on her arms and closed her eyes. “You must tell me once you find her,” she sighed.

Benedict looked at her, startled. Find who? Surely she didn’t know about…

As if reading his mind Sophie continued, mumbling. “The woman you will marry. So that I will know to leave. Promise me, Ben.” Her head lolled as she drifted off, her last words barely above a whisper. “I cannot share you.”

Something in Benedict’s chest clenched and again he found himself struggling to breathe. Suddenly the thought of not having Sophie around was unsettling. More unsettling than it should have been for having known her such a short time. She didn’t want to share him with his wife. Did she mean to reveal that to him or did it slip out? He couldn’t tell how it made him feel. Once again he knew she was right. He doubted he could sustain a life as a bachelor chasing after a maid who refused to be kept as a mistress. He would need to marry. Hell, a part of him wanted to marry. It was who that was the problem. He couldn’t find the lady in silver but knew that if he ever did and if she would have him, he would marry her and then there would be no room for Sophie. It made him sad and it made him confused and he was so damned tired. So he resigned himself to following Sophie’s lead and just enjoying the time they had together, for however long it lasted.

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @eg-dr3amer3 @time-to-hit-the-clouds @lyta2323 @autumn-grace @sadprose-auroras @the-other-art-blog @goldrambutan @colettebronte @heeyyyou @musicismyoxygen84 @faye-tale @ambitionspassionscoffee @starchaser325 @malna4903 @sincere-sarcasm @kmc1989 @makaylan @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @alexandrainlove @chase-your-dreams-away

[i-magines]

Wildest Dreams: Chapter 2

Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6 | CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 8 | CHAPTER 10

synopsis: You’re an assistant director in an indie movie set and fate makes sure you keep crossing paths with a certain Chilean actor.  

disclaimer: This is my first Pedro Pascal’s fictional work + the first fanfic I write in English, as it isn’t my first language. Unfortunately, I do not own Pedro and this is all a product of my imagination.

rating: M (keep scrolling if your under 18 please)

warnings: age gap, mature content, fem!reader, drinking and mention of drugs, eventual smut but no actual smut so far, a bit slow burn but not really.  

word count: 1,803

You woke up next morning feeling tired and still a little bit overwhelmed. Pedro really was a gentleman and minded his own business, so did you. You’re not sure at what time he had woken up, but you could hear the shower running. You quickly changed into working clothes and went to have breakfast, trying to avoid any weird interactions with him. Again.

The hotel was very busy and the whole crew was meeting in the conference room. You got together with the directing team and briefly discussed your tasks for the day. You couldn’t help but watch Pedro closely as he joined the room, saying a happy good morning to everyone. He shaked hands with a few people and grabbed a cup of coffee. The producer asked everybody to be silent.

“Morning, everyone”, she started. “As I’m sure you’re all aware of already, we had a problem with the accommodation situation. Last night I tried to make some calls, but I do have to formally apologize to everybody, because I won’t be able to solve this.”

Everybody in the room just stared at her.

“There’s a conference happening in the city and the hotel fucked us over with overbooking and they got here first”, she explained, clearly a little mad. “If you have your schedule, you can check we’re only staying here for a couple more nights, so I would appreciate it if we could just make a team effort for now.”

She got a piece of paper and a pen. “If anybody wants to be rearranged with a different roommate, let me know.”

Pedro crossed eyes with you and offered a smile. You looked away, feeling shy. There was something about him that just made you feel like a scared little girl that needed to protect herself. You didn’t really see him much during the rest of the day. The schedule showed he was supposed to spend the whole day rehearsing and you were busy with other directing matters. You were very worried about doing a good job and it was starting to get to you. The director wasn’t a bad person, but you could see he didn’t have any time to lose. So you had to hold back your tears when he was a bit harsh after you got confused with the order of the scenes shooting. Once they let you know you were off duty, you walked straight to your room, feeling like shit.

As soon as the door closes behind you, you let out a deep breath. “Fuck me, man.”

“Won’t you pay me dinner first?” you heard a husky voice. It was Pedro, laying on the bed and browsing through his phone.

“Ha-ha”, you fake laughed. You stared at each other for a moment, before both of you let out a big, honest laugh. “As if, old man.”

He sat down, looking at you.

“What a first day, uh?”

“Don’t get me started” you replied as you threw your body on the chair. “Did you ask for a new room?”

“Trying’ to get rid of me, sweetheart?” He was being playful. You shaked your shoulders. “No, I didn’t. I’ll just go with it, if it’s okay with you.”

“Sure, you’re the star. Whatever goes by you, goes by me”, you gave him a soft smile. 

He seemed like such a down to Earth and nice guy, at the same time, he also knew all damn well how charming he was.

“Not trying to be a creep old man—”

“Oh God, what a way to start a sentence”, you both laughed.

“I’m going out to grab some drinks with some friends,” he said. “I was just wondering if you’d like to join us. Professionally speaking”.

You stopped to think. That is literally the main reason you accepted this job, to improve your networking in the industry. It’s all about that and the sooner you get your name going out there, the better gigs you would land in the future.

“You do know I’m literally nobody, right?” You stated, making him frown.

“I do know there are a lot of famous douche people out there, thinking they are crème de la crème”, he said. “Well, that’s not me. I have no fucking clue who you are, sweetheart, and I trully don’t give a shit about it. You seem like a cool, good girl. And if we are really doing this, you’ll have to drop it”.

“I’m sorry— I just had a tough start today”, you said, full of sincerity. “I always feel like I’m walking on a wire in this industry, it makes me anxious.”

“I totally get it”, he stared deep into your eyes. “I won’t lie, it’s tough. But I’m being 100% honest here, there’s people that are actually just really nice folks to have around and you seem like one of those”.

They sure knew how to have a good time in Berlin. You sneaked out of the hotel with Pedro and got a cab to what seemed like a pub on the ground floor and a nightclub underground. You joined a couple of friends of him, got some drinks and just talked for a couple of hours. His friends were super sweet with you and it was just great to hang out with people who already went through starting a career and all of that. They were all older than you and sometimes you would feel a bit out of place, but Pedro was making sure to keep you in the conversation at all times.

“I’m having a really great time”, you told Pedro once his friend went dancing. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“I’m glad you came”, he replied close to your ear, as he was resting one of his arms on your shoulders. “You good?”

“Pretty good, sir”, you gave him a smile. You were feeling a little tipsy from the alcohol, and you could see he was too. “Do you want to dance?”

“Sure, I’m going to get us some more drinks and I’ll meet you there”, he squeezed your arm briefly before moving away.

You went downstairs by yourself and the loud electronic music was everything you were able to hear. You tried to look for Pedro’s friends, but they weren’t anywhere to be found. As you were waiting for Pedro, a blond guy approached you, trying to get you to dance with him. He was about your own age, not bad looking at all, but you weren’t in the mood. At least not with him, you thought to yourself. He pulled his body closer to yours, holding your waist.

“Thanks. I’m waiting for my friend”, you let him know, trying to get away from his grip.

“C’mon baby”, he was way too close for your taste.

“I don’t want you to touch me” you pushed him away.

Before anyone could say or do anything else, Pedro appeared out of nowhere. He handed you your drink and took a sip of his own glass.

“Would you mind if I tell you to fuck off boy?” You have never seen that look of anger in Pedro’s eyes before.

“I didn’t know your daddy was here princess”, the blond guy looked at both of you. “It’s just a matter of taste, I guess.”

You opened your mouth to probably call him all names, but Pedro held your hand and pulled you to the middle of the dance floor. He held your body close to his.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have left you alone”, he whispers close to your ear. “What an asshole.”

“I really appreciate you standing up for me”, you whispered back, your lips touching his ear, causing him to get chills. You suddenly felt thirsty and drank your entire drink in one huge sip. “I couldn’t find your friends.”

“They left, I got their text when I was at the bar”, he looks deeply into your eyes. “Do you wanna head out too?”

“Sure.”

He held your hand as he guided you out of there. The air was a bit chilly, but the street was busy and full of people. He let go of you to light a cigar.

“Do you smoke?” He asked you.

“Smoke what?”

“Got it. Oh, you bad girl”, he laughs playfully. “You should’ve said something, I have some good stuff back in the hotel.”

You didn’t have time to reply as a group of girls recognized and approached him. You stood there for what felt like forever, while he was being the sweetest human being with his fans. Every couple of minutes, he would look at you, making sure you’re still waiting for him. You heard them inviting him to an after party, to what he politely said no.

“Would you mind getting us an Uber, sweetheart?” Pedro had to speak a little louder for you to hear him and you felt like everyone around him just stared at you. You just nodded. “Oh, guys, this is my colleague, Y/N. We’re working on a new project together.”

Colleague. You didn’t know why, but it felt weird for you to hear him referring to you like this. Is this strictly professional? For a second, back inside the club, you thought— well, never mind. You got an Uber and he said his goodbyes to his group of fans. You both sat in complete silence on the backseat of the car.

“What was fun, right?” He gave you a warm smile, placing his arm on your shoulder. “I can’t lie, I kinda love the recognition of the fans.”

You moved your head, affirmatively.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He sounded worried.

“Yes, just tired”, you said half-true.

Why the fuck were you upset he called you his college? That’s literally what you are. Sure you had flirted with him sometimes, but he did say this was a professional invite. You didn’t want to be that person who can’t just be treated with kindness without expecting anything else. Pedro was charming, good-looking and apparently an amazing friend and human being. Who also happens to be almost double your age and hot as hell. You could only blame the alcohol in your body for making you think such things.

You got back to the hotel room, the dizziness at its full peak for both of you.

“I don’t think I’m capable of taking a shower in these conditions”, you said as you jumped in bed. Pedro laughed behind you, doing the same.

“You could use one, though”, he teased you. You gave his arm a light slap. “I’m keeping you real, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you, Pedro.”

“I’m too drunk to fuck anything to be honest”, you both laughed and the room went quiet for a couple of minutes.

“Guess it’s better this way”, you whispered, aware that he could hear it as well.

CHAPTER 3 AVALIABLE NOW

[mynameismckenziemae]

Unbroken

Part 8

(previous part here, next part here)

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x You

Summary: You fall for Bradley more and more with every day that passes. Someone from your past shows up.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, p in v, brief oral (m receiving), fooling around while driving (again), asshole ex-boyfriend, a sprinkle of violence, fluff, etc.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Days turn into weeks and the weeks pass quickly. Soon the days get shorter as summer fades to fall. Your feelings for Bradley keep growing stronger with every moment spent together; which isn’t nearly as much as you’d like with your packed schedule and Bradley’s early mornings.

You’ve only been able to spend the night together once since the night of the rodeo with you being on-call and Bradley on the carrier training, so to say you’re excited for the long Thanksgiving weekend off is an understatement.

Charlie: You and Bradley want to go to Buck Wild tonight with us? There’s a band.

Emma: I suppose. You do realize it’s going to be a high school reunion, right? Everybody’s home for Thanksgiving and everybody goes out the night before. 🙄

Charlie: Perfect time to show off your hot boyfriend 😉

Emma: Oh. That’s true 😏 What time?

Charlie: 7ish.

Emma: Perfect. Just a heads up-I’m blaming you if I’m hungover tomorrow.

Charlie: That’s fine. Ruth loves me, you know it’ll somehow be Jake’s fault though, right?

Emma: Exactly 🙂

Charlie: Being the only child wasn’t always so bad.

You laugh and get back to work.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Hey sweetheart, sorry I’m late,” Bradley says, giving you a quick kiss before opening the door to the Bronco for you. “The last hop went longer than expected.”

“It’s okay, I was none too early, I just finished getting ready a few minutes ago,” you reply, pausing as you buckle in. “You know, we could just take my truck,” you smirk, unable to resist teasing him.

He scoffs, taking your seatbelt to finish buckling you in. “Nope. The Bronco is just fine. I still don’t get what you have against her.”

“It’s a Ford, Bradley,” you reply with disgust. “Back in the day, driving a Ford was a dealbreaker for me. You’re lucky I’ve gotten lenient in my old age.”

“I am pretty lucky,” he chuckles as he reaches for your hand to place a kiss on the back.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

The place is packed as expected but Jake and Charlie snagged a table in the corner.

“How’d you manage to get a table?” You ask over the noise once you make your way over, drinks waiting.

“Willie gave us a reserved one when I told him you were coming,” Jake responds with an eye roll as he hands you both a beer.

You catch Willie’s eye behind the bar and blow him a kiss, laughing when he catches it before placing it on his cheek.

“Must be terrible not being anyone’s favorite,” you tease, jabbing Jake with your elbow.

“Whatever,” he huffs. “I’m Charlie’s favorite,” he says as he puts his arms around her.

“Ehhhh…I don’t know about that. You were until your socks missed the hamper-hey! I’m kidding!” Charlie laughs when he tickles her sides.

“Drinking tonight?” You ask when you count four whiskey shots on the table.

“Yeah, the last pregnancy test was negative but I figured it would be since Jake was on the carrier this month when I was the most fertile, according to the app at least,” she replies as she pushes a shot glass over to you then Bradley. “I’m not worried though, it hasn’t even been 2 months. We’re also having a lot of fun trying.”

“Gross,” you blanch before clinking your glasses together. “Cheers.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Charlie tells Bradley when he sets his glass down, shuddering at that burn of the whiskey.

“Hope so,” he laughs.

“Almost forgot,” Jake says, producing a cowboy hat from the chair beside him and handing it to Bradley. “Gotta have one of these if you’re gonna live in Texas.”

“Thanks,” Bradley smiles, putting it on and turning to you. “What do ya think?”

“You look good,” you reply before leaning in. “Might steal it later.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks as heat flashes in his eyes.

You bite your lip as you nod. You both have been so desperate for one another that you haven’t tried many positions yet, always so eager to get him inside you. But with Bradley taking the lead you were getting more comfortable and confident.

Taking him for a ride in nothing but his new hat sounds like a great idea.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Just as you’d expected, it’s like a reunion in the packed bar. Thankfully, you’re able to avoid a lot of the small talk when the music starts

Soon you’re feeling good; drinks are flowing and the band is playing songs everyone knows.

“I’m stealing Emma to pee!” Charlie yells to Bradley as she grabs your hand.

“Girls can’t pee alone,” you explain when he gives you both a puzzled look.

He looks to Jake who’s just as confused as he is but they just shrug before following you off the dance floor to head back to the table.

“Oh my gosh, Emma! Hi!”

“Hey Britt,” you say, turning around with a fake smile. “Go agreed, I’ll be there in a minute,” you tell a dancing Charlie.

You nod as the old frenemy prattles on, not letting you get a word in edgewise before she leaves you to find someone more interesting to talk to.

The men’s room door swings opens as you walk past and you bump into the person coming out

“Oops, sorr-“

“Hey Em,” the man interrupts and your blood runs at his voice.

“Chet,” you nod curtly as you move around him but he grabs your arm.

“Too good to say hi?” He says, pulling you close. Close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath.

He’s drunk, and he’s always been mean when he’s drunk.

“Yeah, Chet. I am. I’ve always been too good for you,” you spit, trying to pull your arm free.

But he’s stronger and he pushes you against the wall before crowding you against it.

“That’s rich,” he chuckles darkly, “weren’t good enough to keep our baby alive.”

Your eyes close as the weight of his words sink in. While it hurts, it doesn’t crush you like it would’ve in the past.

You’re healing.

Before you can respond, he’s on the ground, knocked out cold.

“Ow,” Charlie mutters with a grimace, shaking out the hand she just clocked Chet with.

“Holy shit, Char,” you gape at her.

“I’m sorry-he was in your face, and then he said that about you not-about the baby,” she stutters. “I just saw red. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Don’t be sorry, he deserved it,” you say, holding your arm out for her to take while she steps over his snoring body. “Let’s go before he wakes up.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Tabs paid?” You ask when you reach the table.

Jake nods.

“Okay good. ‘Cause we have to go. Like right now,” Charlie says, turning for the door.

“Everything okay?” Bradley asks as he follows them out.

“Uh…,” you stall until you get outside in the fresh air, feeling like you can finally breathe. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

“What happened in there? You look like you saw a ghost,” Jake asks, leaning against the bumper of his truck.

“I ran into a girl I knew from high school on the way and told Charlie to go ahead while we talked for a minute. I was headed to the bathroom and ran into Chet as he was coming out,” you sigh. “He’s drunk and he started saying stupid shit-“

“It was awful. He said she wasn’t good enough to keep the baby alive,” Charlie says quietly, tears heavy in her voice.

“Oh Em,” Bradley says, wrapping you in his arms.

“He’s fucking dead,” Jake growls, rising to head back in, but you stop him.

“I’m okay. I promise. I know it’s not my fault. He’s drunk and gets off on hurting me,” you say. “He’s gonna be the one hurting tomorrow though.”

“I dunno, I might too,” Charlie laughs, looking down at her hand. “It’s not broken but it’s gonna hurt for a few days.”

Jake rushes to her side to check her hand out. “What the fuck happened?”

“I came out of the bathroom and heard the horrible things he was saying…the next thing I knew he was on the ground,” Charlie explains, as if she can’t believe it either. “I’ve never punched anyone before. I must’ve gotten got lucky and hit him in just the right spot in the jaw.”

“Well, you did something right. He was out cold,” you say, leaving Bradley’s arms to hug her. “Thank you.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat, Em. I love you,” she murmurs.

“I love you too,” you reply with a sniffle.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“I’m sorry for tonight,” Bradley says on the way home after saying goodnight.

“Why are you sorry? It wasn’t your fault,” you reply.

“I know, I just feel bad that you had to see him and that he’s still trying to hurt you. I should’ve gone with you,” he sighs as he puts his hand on your knee.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you say. “If you would’ve hit him, he would’ve pressed charges and you’d be in trouble. There’s no chance in hell he’s going to tell anyone he got knocked out by a woman; if he even remembers it in the morning,” you laugh. “I’m not gonna lie; what he said hurt. But it didn’t suffocate me like it would have in the past.”

You can tell he’s still beating himself up when he nods, so you reach over to pluck his hat off and place it on your head.

His lip quirks and his hand on your knee slides up your thigh. “Still wanna give me a ride tonight?”

“Mhmm,” you reply, placing your hand over his to guide him between your legs. Your head drops back with a sigh when he rubs over the seam of your jeans. “Been thinking about it all night.”

“Me too,” he admits. “Hell, I’ve been thinking about it since the last time we were there and you rode the bull.”

“When you hid to the bathroom ‘cause you got hard?” You tease breathily.

He nods, fingers still rubbing you through your pants. “You looked so good up there. Then the way you kissed me outside after? Fuck, I couldn’t think straight until I back to the hotel and finally jerked off in the shower.”

“God,” you sigh as you picture him. “That’s so hot.”

By the time he pulls into your driveway, you’re soaked.

Inside your bedroom, you help him out of his clothes first, nipping and sucking at the flesh you expose.

“W-wait,” He chokes, hands flying to your hair to pull you off when you suck on the head of his cock. “I’m too-I don’t wanna cum yet.”

You smile as you straighten up and gently push him onto the bed, keeping your eyes on his as you strip down to nothing but his hat.

You grab a condom and crawl over him, tipping the hat back to kiss him deeply, pulling back with a bite to his lip to tear open the condom.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he breathes as he watches you put it on.

“So are you,” you murmur as you line him up to your entrance.

You mean it too as you look down at him laid out beneath you; skin flushed, chest heaving, desire in his eyes.

The sounds of your harmonized pleasure fill the room as you sink down on him.

“You’re so big,” you whimper when he bottoms out.

“Doing so good, sweetheart,” he praises, bringing his hand between your legs to circle your clit while you take a second to adjust, grunting when you clench around him.

“Keep-keep going, I’m close,” you gasp when you feel your orgasm approaching rapidly.

His free hand reaches up to pinch a nipple and that little bite of pain pushes you over the edge with a surprised cry.

“Fuckkkkk,” he groans desperately, trying not to thrust his hips up, “you’re squeezing me so tight.”

He’s still trembling with restraint when you come to.

You plant your hands on his shoulders and begin to move your hips; tentative at first but quickly growing confident.

“Feels so good,” you whimper before you lean down for a filthy kiss, murmuring against his lips. “You’re so good, Bradley.”

His eyes close and his hips stutter at your words; he likes being praised too.

You bite your lip to not smile as you tuck that information away to use later.

You’re getting close and you can tell he is too by his breathy sounds and the way his fingers on your clit are getting sloppy.

The hat falls off your head and is quickly forgotten as you lean down to kiss him while your fingers trace over his chest as you toe the edge.

When your fingers find his nipples and pinch without warning, he groans shamelessly against your lips, filling the condom.

A satisfied moan leaves you when his release triggers yours and to shiver at the overstimulated whimper he lets out as you contract around him.

He presses a kiss to your hair as you recover on his chest.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Not long after, you fall asleep to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat in the same position.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A/N: Can you tell I hate Fords? 😂 Chet had it coming and I couldn’t resist letting Charlie bring the one to give it to him.

Also…I wrote the majority and edited this from 2 AM to 5 AM when I couldn’t sleep 🥴 so if something doesn’t make sense or there’s errors, let me know!

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs!

Tagging (please let me know if you want to be added/removed!):

@mamamaystbr

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

@daggerspare-standingby

@mrsevans90

@littlezee80

@emma8895eb

@jessicab1991

@devil-angel-winchester

[velvetstreets]

Can I request that the reader is an actress and she jokingly said she had a crush on Jack in an interview then he slides in her dms bc he saw that she was filming in a location close to one of his shows in the UK and the reader is akdhdlslslsjsk and goes and she goes backstage and then after his show she invites him out to a late dinner or something and he eats more than dinner 🤭🤭🤭

miss Blanca it’s an honor to write for u again my bby 🙇🏽‍♀️🫶

also I forgot they were in the UK for a moment and have Jack driving in this, which we all know that man would probably die driving on the other side of the road - but for this, we pretend! :)

None of the people in my writings portray the actual people I write about! It’s all a work of fiction, I have no idea how they are/act irl.

Warnings: basically fluff!! w a side of smut :), just some good ol’ making out, and oral sex (f!receiving)

—————————————— 

“So who’ve you got your eye on then, hmm?” Amelia questioned you as you sat across from her a chicken shop in London.

“Wha- I don’t have an eye on any-“ you started to laugh, feeling the camera pan in on you.

“Don’t lie, you’ve got to! You’re the breakout star of the year with your new film, and have caught the eyes of everyone, let’s be real!” She said smiling.

“Harry Styles?”

“He’s a sweetheart, but no.”

“C’mon, Drake?”

“No!” You laughed loudly. “He’s my older brother. Nothing going on there.”

“How about Jack Harlow?” She pressed you in a loving fashion.

“Yeah, Jack Harlow.” You tried to keep your composure, playing it off as a joke even though you did think he was cute.

“I’ve got an in with him you know? He took me out on a date once, different chicken shop though. Nothing further though, my eyes are more focused on Idris Elba.” She jokes.

The interview finishes filming after while later after some more banter and questions; and Amelia approaches you after.

“You know I can set you two up if you want? I have his number.” She offered, whipping out her phone and giving you an encouraged look.

“No, no that’s really okay.” You motioned at her, heat slightly running to your cheeks. “I’d rather get at him myself; or him at me. Not anyone in between.” You told her.

“Oh he’ll absolutely slide into your DM’s after seeing that. He won’t be able to resist you.” She laughed, giving you a wink before going to talk to her producers.

Nah, he’ll ignore it. It’s whatever! You thought to yourself, trying to release the nerves of Jack possibly reaching out.

—

The episode aired a few weeks later, and as you were getting ready for bed, you got a certain notification.

jackharlow wants to message you.

“Oh shit.” You said, eyes widening and sitting up in your bed. Immediately you called your best friend.

“Hey boo-boo, what’s up?” She answered the FaceTime snacking on a cookie.

“Yeah, so fuckin’ Jack Harlow just DMed me?”

“Bitch!-” She lept up out of her seat, pushing her face closer to the camera/ “What did he say?!” She yelled excitedly.

“I don’t know! I haven’t opened it yet.” You stared at your DMs, fidgeting with your nails.

“Bitch I swear if you don’t open it right the fuck now-“ she urged you.

“Wait, lemme just wait a few minutes, I don’t want him to see me see his message yet-“ you compromised with her as she rolled her eyes, but let you be. You finally decided to open it and see what he said.

He had sent the instagram post from Chicken Shop Date with a message.

jackharlow: 🙇‍♂️ it’s an honor to be crushed on by thee Y/N. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been crushin’ on you for awhileee now tho.

“Oh god.” You mumbled in shock.

“What? What did he say?” Your best friend pressed you excitedly. You repeated his message out as she let out a squeal.

“AHHH I told you he’s into you too!! I see you girl, shiiiit lemme start with them manifestations you’re always doin’, I’m tryna get me some dick too.” She smirked at you.

You chewed at your lip before deciding on how to respond.

y/ninstagram: Oh really? 🤔 Amelia should’ve mentioned that when she tried to give me your number.

jackharlow: did you take it? 👀

y/ninstagram: nah, I like when people ask me out themselves.

jackharlow: good thing I asked her for your number. Can I call you right now?

You swallowed, hard.

“He wants to call me right now.” You told your friend.

“SHUT UP! Oh my god, okay BYE! Go make babies with that fine ass white man- call me after, love you boo.” She squealed before hanging up.

You looked as his message, and grinned to yourself as you hearted his message.

Soon enough, your phone rang, and your heart was beating out of your throat at this point. You took a small breath and exhaled before answering his FaceTime.

He was laid against some pillows, probably in his hotel room, wearing a blue zip up sweatsuit. His curls framed his face perfectly, and his teeth basically sparkled as he smiled at you.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Jack.” He said.

You rolled your eyes and laughed a little.

“I know. Hi Jack, how are you?” You asked.

“I’m good, better now.” He confidently responded. “And you?” He asked.

“I’m good.. a little tired from work, but good nonetheless. This was also a nice surprise.” You flirted back at him.

He smiled widely, and softly laughed. “Well I’m not gonna hold you up too long, beautiful. I just noticed you’re in London, and was wondering if you would like to come see my show on Friday? We could hang out after and have dinner if you’d like?” He asked in a charming tone.

“Yeah okay, that’d be really nice.” You agreed, biting your lip to hold back your excitement.

“Great. I’ll see you soon then mamas, sleep well.” He said before you said your goodbyes and hung up.

“Oh god.. what’d I just get myself into?” You shook your head, smiling to yourself in disbelief.

—

It was now Friday, and Jack was almost done with his show. You had FaceTimed him all week before today, and as well as the two of you had hit it off; the sexual tension was almost unbearable. He had met you at the entrance and introduced you to everyone before the two of you hung out in the green room for a bit. The two of you bonded and flirted; playful comments and touches thrown here and there before it was time for Jack to perform. Something felt different about him; like the way he made you laugh, like genuinely laugh - not the fake laugh you used in interviews and when meeting upper business executives. Jack was caring and respectful, it was like you could see how soft his heart truly was, with every smile and witty comment with a glint in his eye - it was like you could see his heart glowing. He brought you backstage where you got to hang out with his friend Urban and a few others while Jack performed. You danced and sang along with everyone, and every once in a while, Jack would look over and smile brightly as he saw you having a good time. 

“I can see why he likes you.” Urban said as he stood next to you, cheering his best friend on from the sidelines. 

You turned to face him, a smile still on your face as you watched Jack perform from the corner of your eye. 

“Yeah? Hope it stays that way, ‘cause I kinda like him too.” You admitted to the blonde. 

“Oh no doubt. I haven’t heard him talk this much about a girl before; I can’t get him to shut up.” He laughed. “But I see why, now.” He turned to look at you, smiling. You blushed and lightly bit at your lips, looking over at Jack again. 

“Don’t gas me up too much now Urban, I may end up with an ego like your friend.” You joked, laughing with him as he put a friendly arm around you, continuing to sing and rap along with you as Jack put on an energetic show.

He finally finished with First Class, and the crowd was roaring. He thanked the crowd and made his way to the side of the stage where you stood.

“Sooo... what’d ya think? Not too bad I hope, I know I forgot some of the lyrics, but I think it was salvageable, no?” He said coming up to you; his dazzling smile and the dimples that accompanied it making you swoon.

“You were incredible, they loved you! Pretty sure they didn’t wanna let you go so soon.” You told him, eyes still wide at his work ethic and charisma he brought with him on stage. 

“Mmm, so kinda how I feel about you then?” He smoothly commented, blue eyes never leaving yours. 

“You still got me, we have dinner remember?” You countered, giving him a wink. 

“Of course, I could never forget. It’s all I’ve been thinking about this week.” He flashed another smile. “Let me just shower real quick, and then we can get going, yeah?” He said, and you nodded.

“I’ll be quick, I promise!” He yelled to you as he sprinted to his green room like his life depended on it, making you giggle. 

—

When he was ready, Jack told his team he wanted to take a car alone with you, and he guided you outside with him, holding your hand as the two of you talked about any and everything. He opened the door and helped you into the car before jogging over to the driver’s seat. 

“So I realized I never asked you what you wanted to eat- M’sorry about that, but there’s Italian, Chinese, or maybe you want something authentic since we’re in England-” Jack started to nervously babble as he pulled out of the parking lot before he felt you kiss his cheek. 

“No need to apologize Jack, I think it’s very cute that you wanna plan all of this out. But you must be tired no? D’ya wanna just go back to your hotel and order room service?” 

“I’m not that tired, plus I’m tryna treat this amazing girl with what she deserves; the very best.” He said. “Unless you wanna do that? I’m down for whatever you want, really.” He answered honestly. 

You gently kissed his hand that was intertwined with yours. 

“You’re too sweet. But I’ve always been a low-key, take out at home kinda girl. You can save the fancy dates for later on.” You smiled at him. 

“Room service it is then. Whatever my girl wants.” He grinned at you, changing course to his hotel. 

—

Jack basically ordered the entire menu, just so the two of you would have options, even though you told him it wasn’t necessary, he insisted. 

The two of you ate and talked, sharing laughs and playful touches as some Netflix show played in the background; neither of you paying attention to it anymore. You were now sitting next to him, his arm slung around the back of the couch, yearning to feel his touch, but you could tell he was ever the gentleman, not wanting to push any boundaries, but at this point, you were desperate to feel him. 

You turned you head and looked at him, and he did the same, meeting your eyes. You admired the golden, wispy, wiry tufts of facial hair that sculpted his face perfectly, his soft ringlet curls that made you want to lightly pull on them to see them spring back into place, his blue eyes - which were anything but cold, the slope of his nose, the freckled that adorned his cheeks; and finally, his pink lips that looked so soft and supple, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

You leant in and kissed him, with Jack kissing you back passionately. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to that all night, all week really.” He breathed out after you pulled away. 

“Me too, Harlow.” You giggled at him before he pulled you back in for another kiss.

What started out as innocent and mellow, the kiss diverged into a heated make-out session. You turned to straddle Jack as he helped you into his lap, his hands roaming your body, before he started to kiss your neck and down to your chest.

“Fuck, Jack-” you moaned out, his every touch electrifying you. 

“S’it feel good, sweetheart?” He asked, like he wasn’t about to combust with you on his lap. 

“So good.. really good,” you whimpered softly, starting to rut your hips into his, the friction from his jeans hitting against your clothed clit deliciously. 

You tugged at his curls, earning a low groan from him, as you pulled his head up from your neck, devouring him in another heated kiss. Jack moaned into your mouth, his tongue finding yours as you continued to rock against him.

“Bed, Jack- bed, please baby.” You whispered to the curly haired boy. 

“You sure? D-Don’t wanna make you feel like you gotta do anything-” He stuttered. 

“Such a gentleman, Jack Harlow.” You smiled at him before lowering your lips to his, pressing a soft kiss to him. 

“But, I want this, and by the strain I can feel through your pants, I’m pretty sure you want the same thing.” You whispered in his ear, making him shiver and groan. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me Y/N, I swear.” Jack said before picking you up in his arms, making you squeal and giggle as he brought the two of you to his bed. He gently tossed you onto the white sheets, and kissed you, slowly grinding against you as he held your head in his hands intimately. After a few more minutes of soft gasps and groans, and groping eachother, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please Jack, fuck me.” You told him. He stopped momentarily, and let out a sigh of defeat. You froze. Maybe he didn’t want this? Had you misconstrued his signals? Was he not into it anymore?

“Get out of that pretty little head of yours. I want to, believe me I want to - god I can’t even believe I’m saying no to you right now-” He started, eyes boring into yours with a genuine warmth. “But I like you too much, I really don’t wanna fuck this up with you by going too fast, too soon.” He explained. 

Your heart melted at his words, how the hell did this sweetheart of a man fall into your lap?

“Yeah, I get it.” You said. “We have plenty of time to get to that later on.” You agreed, despite your pussy scolding you for denying her what you could only imagine as ‘life changing dick’. 

Jack smiled at you, relived you understood where he was coming from. He kissed you again, savoring the taste of you, the feeling of you on him.

“Buuut...” he started, leaving warm hot kisses along your neck. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have a lil’ fun.” Jack said as his hands began to run down your sides.

“Oh yeah?” You feigned obliviousness. “What’d you have in mind?” You asked. 

“Just wanna make you feel good, s’that okay baby?” He asked, continuing to kiss you. 

“Yes, more than okay.” You breathed out, his touch making your head spin.

“Just tell me to stop and I’ll stop, no questions asked.” He told you, squeezing your hand in reassurance. 

Jack kissed down your neck, kissing between the valley of your clothed breasts, down to where the skin of your tummy peeked out - kissing right above your navel, and all over your pooch. His hands slid up the skirt you were wearing and you momentarily thanked god in your head that you decided against pants today. His fingertips reached the lace of your panties, and he pressed his thumb against your clit through your panties. 

“Fuck- just like that, yeah.” You whined.

“So wet, shit-, this all for me?” He inquired

“Yes-, all for you Jack, just you.” You cried out as he continued to rub you through the thin material.

“Fuck Y/N, you have no idea what you do to me..” he groaned out, as he rutted his hips against the mattress, desperate for a little relief.

His fingers tucked into the waistband of your panties, and he looked at you to see if you had a change of heart. You smiled at him.

“Please Jack, make me feel good.” You bit your lip, pleading for him to make a move.”

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

Jack pulled your panties from your pussy, a string of arousal connecting between the two before it broke as he threw the black thong to the side.

Without warning, Jack dipped his head between your legs and began to eat you out.

“Fuck! Oh my god- yesyesyes-“ you cried out as he demolished your sweet pussy. His nose pressed on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure, rubbing against you as he pulled at your hips to nuzzle his face closer against your cunt.

“God you taste phenomenal, of course you fuckin’ do.” He laughed before taking your hands in his intertwining your fingers as he dove back into your pussy, face first.

Jack alternated between licking and tongue fucking you, and sucking and kissing your clit, driving you crazy at how fucking good he was at this.

You felt your core tighten, your release close. “G-gonna cum Jack, fuck don’t stop-“ you moaned, your hands squeezing his as you rutted your hips against his face. Jack let go of your hands and settled them on your hips with a firm grip. He groaned and the vibration from his throat sent you over the edge.

“Oh, shitshitshit, ah!” You cried out, your hands in his hair now, pulling on his curls as you rode your orgasm out. Jack kept sucking on your clit, overstimulating you until you pushed at his head.

You laid back in the sheets, sweat gleaming on your skin as a few strands of hair stuck to your forehead; and Jack was mesmerized at the sight. He couldn’t picture anything else more beautiful than your blissed out face- eyes screwed shut, lips puffy from your precious make-out sesh, and your skin gleaming so beautifully from the orgasm he just caused you to have.

He crawled up next to you as you recovered from your intense orgasm, kissing your lips a few times before planting a kiss on your forehead and bringing you into his arms.

“Fuck, you’re really good at that.” You finally broke the silence. Jack let out a hearty laugh as he pulled you closer to him.

“Thanks. I’ve been meaning to practice some more though be a little more selfless, ya know?” He joked.

“Well, anytime you’re in the spirit of giving again, don’t be afraid to hit my line.” You laughed into his neck.

“Trust me baby, you’ll be the first and only person I call.” He chuckled, bringing you into another sweet kiss.

——————————————————

Tag list: @hoodharlow @moody4world @watercolorskyy @lcandothisallday @harlowthot @triplexdoublex @thinkingaboutjharlow @bbyharlow @jackharlows-world @primadxna-girl @curlyhairclub @dessmxsworld @inluvwithladybug @babyharleezy @thysagclub @harlowcomehome @rebelxsun @jackharloww

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part thirty-three

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

jackson holds more than a few familiar faces.

a/n: these few chapters are so satisfying to me cuz it’s more my own creation that straight outta the show and i hope y’all enjoy 🫶🏻

word count: 7.4k

warnings: nothing crazy, y’all know the drill by now

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

The last time you saw Nick Cowan, Joel had just put a bullet in his shoulder, and he’d nearly put a bullet in Joel’s head. Then you’d picked up the gun Joel had dropped and pointed it right back at the then-FEDRA soldier, your…whatever he once was.

The last thing you said to him rings clear as day in your mind: “Guess I’m just as terrible as you thought.”

He looks…old. It suits him. It’s the eyes that give him away, that signature stare you had once grown so used to. Now, they pin you in place, and you have no choice but to stare right back, taking in the thick beard along his jaw, the scar across his nose, his hair greying and pushed back over his head. He’s bigger than you remember, all broad shoulders towering over you as he gets closer to you, closing the distance, making your brain run a marathon trying to make sense of it.

He’s here. He’s alive.

“Liv?” he croaks out, his voice snapping on your name. His eyes are glassy, those stupidly long lashes you were always silently envious of clumping together. “Is it really…is it really you?”

Nick Cowan opens his arms to you, his boots crunching in the snow beneath your feet. He goes to hug you, saying your name again, shock and happiness on his face.

And you fucking deck him.

You’re pure adrenaline, and you hear the crunch of your knuckles hitting his face more than you feel it. It’s like every eye in the street turns to you as it happens, and Cowan reels backward, spitting blood into the snow and cupping his face. Your hand explodes with pain as you fall back a step, cradling your hand against your chest, and Joel materializes at your side, curling a hand around your elbow.

“Okay,” Cowan grunts, spitting again. “I probably deserved that.”

“Probably?” you nearly shout, stepping forward, but Joel tightens his hold and hauls you back. “It’s okay.”

You wrestle yourself out of Joel’s grip and close the distance between you and Nick. But this time, you hug him. You grab his forearm and throw your arms around him, squeezing him tight. It’s a moment before he returns it, a low chuckle reaching your ears. There are more tears on your face, and god fucking damn it, your hand hurts something fierce, but then you feel something connect with your shin and a tiny voice shouts, “Get your hands off my daddy!”

Nick steps back, releasing you, and you look down to see a little girl, no older than five or six, pulling back to kick you in the shin again. She’s cute, all bright blue eyes and blonde braids and her cheeks flushed with cold. “Deanna, stop it,” Nick chides, reaching down to scoop her into his arms. She goes willingly, giving you the best evil eye you’ve received from someone so young, and it makes you laugh.

You’re still reeling, your aching heart barely able to process. Tommy? Cowan? Alive and well, all this time. It’s almost too much, and then—

“Deanna, come back here!” an unfamiliar voice calls, and you look in its direction to see a young man making his way through the crowd to where you’re stood. 

And your heart sinks into your toes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says to Cowan, reaching into his pocket and producing an inhaler. “She just ran off before I could…” He trails off, and his eyes move to you. “Liv?”

The image of the little boy in your mind is instantly replaced with the older version standing before you. He’s tall, nearly as tall as Cowan, the mop of dark curls now cropped closer to his head, short enough that you can see the scar on his forehead. The memory jars you. He was so little, chasing Emily around the food court, and you’d heard him yelp as he fell. A few minutes later, his dad was carrying him into the medic area where you were working with Deanna. Poor kid cracked his head open and was sniffling around the wad of napkins his dad had pressed to his bleeding forehead.

You’d taken over, carried him over to one of the cots and found a wad of gauze that would soak up the blood a bit better. Henry was all sniffles and big round eyes, staring up at you as you dabbed at his wound. You distracted him, talking about anything and everything while you cleaned it and found him a bandage and told him he was brave. It wasn’t terribly deep, but it had left a thin line above his eyebrow, one you could only really see when the light caught the right way.

“Henry,” you breathe out, and a moment later, he’s in your arms. Despite the height he now has on you, he’s that ten-year-old kid again, hugging you tightly. The kid that groaned about math but still did every piece of homework, that sat vigil at your bedside after you got the shit kicked out of you in lockup, that sweet-talked Joel into a game of Monopoly the first time they met. 

Maybe not your son by blood, but the closest thing you know you’ll ever come to one.

And he’s alive.

But then the mood sours, all in an instant.

“You told us she was dead!” Henry shouts, still clinging to you, but pulling away to spit the words at Cowan. There are tears on his face, making his cheeks ruddy, and you can hear the way his chest wheezes. “All these years, you told us she was gone! You fucking liar!”

You can see the hurt on Nick’s face, the way he flinches back. The little girl — Deanna — hides her face in Nick’s neck, putting her arms around him. A blonde woman appears at his side, puts a hand on Deanna’s back and murmurs something to Nick that you don’t hear over Henry shouting.

“I fucking hate you! You’re a goddamn liar! She was our family!”

“Henry, stop,” you say softly, trying to placate him. “It’s okay, it’s not—”

He wrenches out of your arms and disappears into the crowd, leaving you and Nick to watch him go. Nick hands Deanna off to the blonde and she gives you what you think is a sympathetic smile before also walking away.

“I never meant for it to work out this way,” Nick says, and part of you feels bad for him, but another part wants to deck him again. “They were just kids when we…” He shakes his head. “Deanna and I agreed, it was better that way. That maybe it would stop them from wanting to go back to Boston if they didn’t think you were still there.”

You feel a presence behind you — Joel. His hand rests at the small of your back and you swipe tears from your cheeks. “Well, I was still there, Nick. Wondering this entire time if you were all alive or not. You couldn’t have had the decency to at least let us know you were okay?” Your voice cracks on the question and Joel puts his arm around your waist now, tugging you against him. You’re grateful; it’s the only thing stopping you from punching Nick again.

“Everything I did was to protect them,” Nick says, staring down at his boots. You got him good; his jaw is an angry shade of red, and there’s a spot of red on his bottom lip. “You know exactly why I did what I did.”

Joel bristles, angling himself in front of you, raising a hand. “Can we not do that right now?” he grits out. “There’s a lot going on right this second; we all need to calm the fuck down and you need to watch your mouth.”

Nick doesn’t say anything at first, just nods, but then his eyes flick back to you. “I’m sorry, really, I am. Tommy knows which house is ours, if you want to talk more.”

He turns on his heel, but you stop him. “Nick.” He swivels back to you slowly, his hands dug in his pockets. “I’m assuming the little Deanna is named after the one that took care of us back in Boston.”

“She is,” he nods. “Dee passed five years ago.” But then he stops, and you know the next thing out of his mouth might crush you. “The same flu that took Emily. They’re buried together; I can show you where, if you like. That’s probably where Henry took off to.”

You inhale sharply, stumbling back a step, but Joel doesn’t let you go far. Tommy’s on your other side now, Ellie a half-step behind him, and the woman who had told you to come to Jackson breaks the silence that settles as you watch Nick walk away.

“Why don’t we get you all something to eat?”

 +

You’re all quiet, the only sound at the table is the clatter of cutlery hitting plates. Joel can barely remember the last time he ate off a real plate, let alone sat at a table while he had a meal. It must have been back in Boston, he thinks, back before…

He glances at you between bites. You’re picking at your food, your shoulders hunched around your ears, eyes downcast. Worry knots Joel’s stomach, but goddamn it, he’s hungry. “Liv, honey, eat,” he says, nodding across the table where you’re sat beside Tommy. “Please.”

You just nod, lifting your glass of water and taking a sip.

Beside him, Ellie is wolfing down her food, scraping the plate, eyes glued to the meal like someone might try and take it away from her. “There’s more if you need it,” Maria — the woman who’d brought you here — says from her seat at the head of the table.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Joel says with a slight nod, pausing his own eating. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.”

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” Ellie quips, taking another bite. “This is fuckin’ amazing.”

“Ellie,” you chide, your eyes widening for a second and Joel’s eyes dart between you.

“Sorry,” he says to Tommy and Maria. “Ellie, let’s mind our manners.”

Tommy gives Joel a small smile and lifts his hand, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You offer a half-smile in return, reaching up and squeezing his fingers.

Ellie’s attention is dragged across the large room, and her almost menacing, “What?” makes you both flinch.

“Jesus Christ, Ellie,” you groan, rubbing your hand across your forehead.

“What’s wrong with you?” Joel asks, his eyes darting to the girl who’d been hiding behind a pillar, watching your table.

“What about her manners?” Ellie calls, loud enough for the girl to hear, and you sigh heavily.

“She was just curious,” Maria supplies, her tone placating. “Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.”

“Right,” Ellie says with a tight nod. “Well, maybe I’ll teach them.” She glances at Tommy, at you beside him, and then her eyes move back to Maria. “And I want my gun back.”

They’d taken your weapons before you got on the horses, and the other riders had whistled at your barb-wired bat. Joel didn’t doubt you’d get them back, but now isn’t the time or place.

“They also aren’t armed,” Maria replies.

“We don’t need to be,” you add, earning an open-mouthed look from Ellie. “Not in here.”

An awkward silence settles for a moment while Ellie cleans her plate, and Joel’s worry subsides some when he sees you take a few more bites.

“Y’know what,” Tommy starts, glancing between you all, “I think maybe y’all got a little off on the wrong foot.”

“She was gonna have her guys kill us,” Ellie almost sneers, and your eyes dart to Joel before you reach across the table, just laying your fist on the tabletop.

“Well, we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place. It’s all bark, we’re just tryna scare off those who might wanna try us is all.”

“Well, you got a couple of ninety-year-olds shitting themselves out there.”

“Ellie!” Joel grits, and you put your face in your hands.

“They say that you leave dead bodies around?” she continues, ignoring both of you.

“Those are the people who tried us,” Maria responds easily, barely fazed. 

“A bad reputation doesn’t mean you’re bad,” Tommy says, and Joel sees the recognition on your face as you drop your hands, squaring your shoulders slightly.

“Not always, at least,” Maria says. Her eyes linger on Joel as she says it, and it makes him bristle. He sees your face pinch from the corner of his eye and you lean up, straightening, laying both elbows on the table.

He can see you holding yourself back, wanting to jump on the defence. So he tries to change the subject. “Ma’am, we’re grateful for your hospitality and all,” he lays down his fork and looks to his brother, “but it’d be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family.”

You inhale sharply, reaching for your water glass again. 

Tommy pauses, balks, before, “Well, um.” He reaches a hand out and Maria takes it, a small smile on her face. “Maria is family, actually.”

Your water glass rattles as you set it back down. “Oh shit!” Ellie says, her tone suddenly lighter. “Congrats.”

Joel doesn’t have words, barely registering you putting your hand on Tommy’s arm and murmuring, “That’s great.”

“Joel,” Ellie calls softly, snapping him out of it, “say congrats.”

“Congrats,” he repeats drily.

The silence that settles after is so awkward Joel wants to crawl out of his own skin, but his brother breaks it. “How about a tour?”

You nearly jump into action, collecting the dishes and cutlery and stacking them together, waving Maria off when she tells you to leave them. Joel makes his way around the table to your side, helps you into your coat. You mumble a thank you, give him a tight smile when he finds your hand and gives it a squeeze.

Maria leads you out of the mess hall and back onto the street. The air is so bitingly cold, such a stark difference from the warmth inside, that Joel flinches, and you tuck yourself against his side, ducking under his arm.

“We settled here about seven years ago,” Maria tells you as you start walking, her voice loud over the noise of the street. “Just a handful of us back then.” She points to one part of the wall. “That section was already a gated community so we built the rest of the wall out from there. Stopped most of the raiding parties, but we still find pockets of them.”

“And you said Infected?” Joel asks, rubbing his hand over your shoulder.

“Yeah,” Tommy answers, “but usually smaller colonies, wandered off from the cities. All this open country out here, it’s a turkey shoot. I still got my 700, but I found a variable power scope, sub-MOA. Can headshot those fuckers from a half mile out.” Joel smirks; his brother, forever the gun nerd.

It gets Ellie’s attention. “Can you teach me how?”

“No, he can’t,” Joel says immediately. He’s half-expecting you to interject, but you don’t say a word. “How do you keep this place quiet?”

“Carefully,” Maria responds. “Being in the middle of nowhere helps, not advertising what we have, staying off the radio.”

That makes Joel stop, and you do too, your hand curling into a fist at his hip as Tommy shoots him a look.

“House of worship,” Maria continues, either unfazed or unaware of the silent exchange as she points out buildings, “multi-faith. School. Laundry. Old bank works as the jail, not that we’ve needed it.”

Joel’s gaze drifts up, to the power lines linked along the street. “And you draw power from the dam?”

“Got that working a couple of years ago,” she says with a nod. “After that, sewage, plumbing, water heaters, lights.”

Ellie shakes her head, glancing around. “This place actually fuckin’ works.”

You keep walking, eventually coming to an area that looks like a makeshift farm. A herd of sheep runs past as you all step through the fence, bleating as they go.

“Hey, Joel,” Ellie calls, beaming, “check it! Baa!”

You both laugh, and Joel squeezes your shoulder.

“So, are you like, in charge?” Ellie asks Maria, clearly starting to get over her earlier…ferocity.

“No one person’s in charge,” Maria answers. “I’m on the council. Democratically elected, serving three hundred people, including children. Everyone pitches in. We rotate patrols, food prep, repair, hunting, harvesting.”

“Everything you see in our town,” Tommy chimes in, “greenhouses, livestock, all shared. Collective ownership.”

“So, communism,” you pipe up, leaning around Joel to look at Tommy.

Tommy’s expression is pure confusion as he shakes his head. “Nah. Nah, it ain’t like that.”

“It is that,” Marie corrects him. “Literally. This is a commune. We’re communists.”

Tommy stops in his tracks, clearly shocked at this revelation, and Joel has to stifle his laugh as he walks past his brother. The conversation trails off as you come up to a row of stables, and Ellie is instantly taken by a young foal poking its head out of the half door.

“Well, I’m sure they’d all like a shower, some new clothes,” Maria says, looking at Tommy. “We can put them in the empty house across the street from us.”

“Yeah,” Tommy nods. “It’s a decent place. Pretty much untouched since ‘03, but it’s got the heat goin’ in it. Could do worse.”

You blow out a breath, turning to steam in the cold air. Joel can hear the words on the tip of your tongue before Ellie interjects, “Oh, trust me, we have been.”

It bothers him more than it should. She looks back at the two of you with a grin on her face that quickly disappears. “We’ve been doin’ fine.”

“Joel,” you say quietly, turning your body against his.

Marie doesn’t miss the exchange and looks at you. “Well, I can take Liv and Ellie over there if you two wanna catch up?” She pauses. “Unless, you—”

“No, let the brothers do their thing,” you say with a nod, peeling away from Joel’s side. He wants to pull you back the second you’re gone, but he stops himself. “I have a few…unfinished conversations of my own to take care of.”

Maria nods. “I can show you where the Cowans live; it’s not far from our place.”

“Yeah,” Joel says, watching as you walk over to where Ellie’s standing, reaching up and petting the foal’s nose. Ellie seems to relax further when you touch her shoulder. “Okay.”

“We’ll be fine,” you tell Joel, and he’s not quite sure who you’re trying to convince, you or him.

Tommy starts to lead him away, and Joel gives you one last glance before following his brother away from the stables.

+

Standing on the front porch of what Maria has told you is the Cowans’ home, you feel nervous, of all things. Your fury has subsided some, turned instead to a quiet ache that lingers in your chest, makes your heart rate rise when you let your mind wander. You feed yourself the facts instead, still trying to make sense of it all.

Nick is alive. Tommy is alive. Henry is alive.

Deanna is dead. Emily is dead.

Somehow, the confirmation makes it easier. You can’t even begin to add up all the time you’ve spent wondering over the years, when Nick first took them away, when Tommy left with the Fireflies. The wondering always made it worse. It was the same when the outbreak first hit, stuck in Boston, not knowing who lived or died. It was Nick that gave you the closure that your parents were gone. Then Joel’s panicked admission that Anna had lived through being bitten, but then FEDRA carted her off, never to be seen again. 

That’s one bit of closure you still don’t have.

My parents are dead. Bill and Frank are dead. Sarah is dead. Anna is…dead.

You suck in a shaky breath, the iciness of it chilling you from the inside out as you lift your hand and knock twice.

It’s a few moments before the door swings inward, revealing the blonde woman who had stood beside Nick earlier in the street. “Oh,” she says, her voice bordering between overly bright and cautious, “it’s you.”

“Olivia,” you offer, extending your hand, “but call me Liv.”

“Sloane,” she responds, taking it. “Nick’s upstairs. D’you wanna come in?”

You stall, thrown off by her invitation. “Oh, uh, sure.”

Sloane steps aside to let you in and you step over the threshold, immediately soaking in the warmth that greets you. “This must all be very…strange for you.”

You lift your brows, glancing around the house as she shuts the door behind her. It’s quaint, with a Christmas tree in one corner of the living room that you can see, a kitchen to the other side. You can see little Deanna perched at the table, crayons in hand, and it’s so reminiscent of Emily, of your life back in Boston, that you nearly turn on your heel and dart back into the cold. 

Your face must give you away, and Sloane seems to think she caused it. “Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you cut her off, waving a hand. “Strange is probably the nicest way to put it.” You try to laugh, try to make the atmosphere a little lighter, but the sound twists in your throat. “I’m the one who should be sorry; I didn’t mean to barge in here like this.”

She gives you a small smile. “I invited you in, Liv. It’s okay, really. Nick told me a lot about you.”

“Only the good stuff, I hope,” you say, returning the grin while inwardly praying he left out some of your…finer details. “Although, there’s not a lot of good stuff, which I’m sure you know.”

“We do what we have to,” she replies, lifting her shoulder, and you balk. “It all happens the way it does for a reason. If you’d stayed together, he wouldn’t be here.” She pauses, looks over her shoulder toward the kitchen. “And I wouldn’t have that beautiful little girl.”

Tears spring in your eyes and you blink furiously while she’s not looking, willing them away.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” she says, turning back to you. “Nick said she kicked you in the shins after…”

“…after you clocked me in the jaw,” Nick finishes, coming down the stairs, sporting the starting of a bruise along his beard. “Glad I only ever taught you to shoot. If I’d taught you how to punch, I’d probably still be unconscious in the street.” You open your mouth to say something, but you’re caught off guard as Nick leans over the stair rail to kiss Sloane hello, which she returns with a grin.

He looks so…at ease. Jealousy sparks in your gut something fierce. Not that he’s kissing her and not you — that ship sailed many moons ago. But seeing them here, in their home, with their daughter. It’s a postcard reminder of all the things you and Joel don’t have. Have never had. May not ever have.

“Nick, can we talk?” you ask, shoving your hands in the pockets of your coat. “Please? I promise not to clock you again.”

He barks a laugh, reaching for his coat on a hook near the door. “Let’s go.”

Sloane kisses him again before he leaves, leading you out the door and back into the cold. You fall into step easily, heading deeper into Jackson, past more houses and people. It looks almost like a real neighbourhood, kids building snowmen in their front yards, Christmas trees glittering in windows. You’re both quiet, but Nick’s the one that breaks the silence.

“Go ahead and ask, Liv,” he says, digging his hands in his pockets while you toy with your own. “I can hear the wheels in your head going from here.”

“Maria said this settlement has been here seven years,” you start, his words all the confirmation you need to start asking for the answers you need, “but you left Boston what, fourteen years ago? What did you do between Boston and here?”

He sighs, his breath turning to a cloud of steam in the air. “Whatever I had to. I only got us out of the QZ by asking for a transfer, and we barely survived the trek to Chicago with FEDRA on our side. But we were there almost five years.” He gestures to the left when the sidewalk splits, and you follow his direction. “After Chicago went to shit, we did whatever we could. Lots of sleeping on the road, hiding in abandoned buildings. The kids hated it, Deanna even more so, but there were more of us then, some people she’d befriended in Chicago, a few other soldiers who’d grown tired of the bullshit, like me. Sloane was one of them.”

“She was FEDRA?” you ask, genuinely shocked.

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding. “I think she’s the only person who’s given me more of a run for my money than you did.”

“Nick—”

“I don’t blame you for doing what you did,” he says, staring at his boots as you keep walking. The sidewalk splits again and this time, you go right. The houses are further apart here, a small copse of trees coming into view at the end of the street. “Or Joel. He was just trying to protect you, and I’m sorry for what I—”

“You shot him in the head, Nick,” you say, bristling. “You can’t just apologize for that and make it all go away. You could have killed him. His hearing hasn’t been the same since it happened.”

He stops in his tracks, staring at you, wide-eyed. “What?”

“You heard me,” you tell him, defiant only to cover up the way your bottom lip is wobbling. “And then you tell Henry and Emily that I’m dead?”

“Well, I couldn’t tell them the truth, could I?” he shoots back and starts walking again. You inhale sharply and follow. “Henry was so mad when we left. He kept asking where you were, if you were gonna meet us in Chicago, over and over. It just seemed…easier. And how in the hell was I supposed to know that you’d show up here one day and prove me wrong?”

“You could have sent a message,” you say, your chest growing tight, “when you got to Chicago. Or when you got here. Never mind, I should give Tommy a fucking earful for not telling me you’ve been here this whole time.”

“I asked him not to,” he admits, and your brows shoot up. “Yes, I lied, okay, Liv? I’m a terrible fucking person. But you were just as bad as I was. You put that entire QZ at risk coming back when you did, and I—”

“Stop it,” you grit, lifting a hand, shocked when he cuts himself short. “Never in a million years would I have come back if I wasn’t sure. I made Joel promise to put me down if I so much as twitched. I made him swear to put a bullet in my head and leave me there, then go back to the QZ and tell everyone how fucking sorry I was.”

You’ve reached the end of the street, the edge of the small forest, and Nick keeps moving forward, stepping onto the snow. You follow, grinding your teeth together as you go.

You walk in silence for some time, Nick stepping quickly, a few feet in front of you, and you keep your distance, unsure if you can handle the rest of this conversation.

The clearing comes into view after a bit of walking, and Nick moves to the side, revealing a graveyard of sorts, a few rows of grave markers dusted with snow. They’re simple markers, wooden crosses driven into the earth, names scrawled across them, painted on a few. One of the graves is fresh.

Seeing Deanna’s name feels like a punch to the gut, but Emily’s hits twice as hard. You drop to your knees in the snow, reaching out and brushing your hand over the cross, the wreath of flowers that sits atop it. “Sloane does that,” Nick tells you, his voice hushed. “She’s got a whole garden in our backyard just to bring the flowers here. Grows them inside in the winter. She loved Emily.”

Your tears flow freely, dripping off your chin and hitting the snow. “It was a flu?”

“Yes,” he answers, crouching down beside you. “Five years ago, now. We’d been here six months, and things felt good, but then the kids started getting sick, a lot of them. Henry got it too, and I thought he’d go before Emily, with his lungs being so awful, but he didn’t. A few other kids passed, and Deanna was so hellbent on helping as many as she could, swearing up and down that she wouldn’t catch it.” His voice snaps and he clears his throat. “I shouldn’t have listened to her.”

Despite it all, you reach out and put your hand on his arm. “You and I both know that’s not a battle you would have won, Nick.”

“I know,” he answers, his eyes glassy as he covers your hand with his. “And I know that I can’t just apologize and make it all go away, Liv, but for whatever it is worth to you, I am sorry.”

“I am, too,” you reply, squeezing his arm, “for whatever it’s worth.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “This is all so fucked up, but it is good to see you.”

Slowly, you both get to your feet. Your knees are shaky and you can’t bring yourself to pull your gaze away from Deanna and Emily’s grave. After a moment, Nick loops his arm around your shoulders and tugs you against him. You let it happen, glad for his warmth, and lean your head against him.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

+

Nick walks you back to town, points you in the direction of what you learn is Tommy’s bar. The snow crunches under your feet, and as you cross the road, you feel lighter than you have in a long time. Your heart aches, but you can make peace with the loss of Deanna, and to a lesser extent, Emily. There’s no denying the grief that has you by the collar, but knowing they didn’t turn, that they weren’t torn to shreds, that they didn’t die like…that. It brings you some strange sense of peace.

You catch sight of Joel walking out of the bar as you get close, and you can tell he doesn’t notice you standing there. There’s a faraway look on his face that makes your gut twist with unease, the Christmassy atmosphere around you doing little to distract you.

He pulls his coat on and you watch him step down onto the sidewalk, feet carrying him towards the nearest lamppost. He leans heavily against it, one hand lifting to press against his chest, the other curling around the post, and you surge forward, calling his name.

“I’m fine,” he spits at you when you get close, his head lifting, waving you off. “I’m—”

The words choke off in his throat, his eyes caught on something over your shoulder, and before you can ask, he steps away from the post, moves past you, and you can see what he’s looking at.

If you didn’t know she was gone, you’d think you were looking at the back of Sarah Miller. An older version, taller, her hair a bit longer than your memory serves, but the similarities are uncanny. Your heart crawls into your throat as a young girl bounds toward Sarah’s doppelgänger, falling into her open arms with a giggle.

More tears springing into your eyes, you step closer to Joel, putting a hand on his arm. “Baby,” you murmur, letting your hand drop, reaching for his, “let’s go get cleaned up, yeah?”

He doesn’t move. You both stay where you are, Joel’s eyes tracking the girls as they disappear, but you can almost hear the wheels churning in his mind. You say his name again, but he ignores you, and as you watch, that hard mask — one you haven’t seen for a while now — forms on his face, effectively pushing you away.

“I’m goin’ for a walk,” he bites out, and before you can reply, he’s gone, tugging his coat closer, stalking off through the crowds.

You have half a mind to follow him, but something tells you you shouldn’t, and you stay put, wipe the tears from your lashes, looking around at the town. There are just so many…people. Happy people, healthy people. 

Part of you wants to deck Tommy for not telling you to come sooner, but then you remember Maria’s pointed look in the mess hall, when he’d said that having a bad reputation doesn’t always make you bad. What stories has he told his wife? How much does she know? She’d kept him off the radio, after all, leaving you and Joel to spiral back in Boston.

You blow out a breath, refusing to dwell on the past, on all the things you don’t have the power to change now. You made it here, found much more than you bargained for, and hopefully, Joel got some information from Tommy about where you go next. Peering around, you realize you’re not totally sure where you’ve ended up, making your plan to head to the house Maria had briefly shown you before taking you to Cowan’s a moot point. You turn on your heel, contemplating going into the bar to talk to Tommy, when you barrel straight into someone. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say immediately, your boots sliding against the snow. The other person grabs your arm, keeping you upright, and your eyes flick up, widening. “Henry!”

It’s obvious he’s been crying. His eyes are red-rimmed, his nose bright, and he sniffles as he nods at you. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t be,” you assure him, reaching up and cupping his cold cheek in your palm. “Honey, you’re freezing.”

“I was at the graves,” he tells you, and you nod, “but when I heard you and Nick coming, I ran. I didn’t know what to—”

You shake your head. “Henry, it’s okay, really. I promise. This day has been…intense. I was just about to go back to the house Maria put us up in, but I realized I don’t really know where I’m going. Why don’t you show me the way, and I’m sure we can scrounge up something warm to drink inside?”

The corner of his mouth lifts, a tiny smile, but a smile all the same. “That sounds good.”

“Good,” you agree, and he offers you his elbow, turning you in the opposite direction you’d about to start walking. “God, you’re so tall.”

“Giving Nick a run for his money,” he says, and you can hear the smile still in your voice. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, honey,” you tell him, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow as you start walking. “Anything.”

“Do you remember my parents?”

Oof. “A little. I never really got the chance to know them well; I wasn’t at the mall very long before they died, but I remember them being very nice, very kind. Your dad was very funny, he was always trying his hardest to make you kids laugh.”

“And my mother?”

You swallow hard, ignoring the scene that flashes in your mind. The last time you’d seen Tim and Marcy, FEDRA soldiers had been carrying their bodies out of the mall where you’d all been staying. Tim had blood on his mouth and a bullet in his brain, and Marcy’s throat had been ripped out.

“She was beautiful,” is what comes out of your mouth, and it’s not a lie. She was a beautiful woman, and part of you aches at the realization that you and Deanna never really talked to the kids about their parents much, at least not while they were in Boston. “She chased the two of you around a lot, but I remember she’d tell you bedtime stories every night.”

“I remember that, I think,” Henry says, and you squeeze his arm. “I remember her telling me she’d always chase the bad dreams away.”

You lean your head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry it’s all worked out this way. It’s not fair.”

He falls silent, and you walk quietly until the house comes into view. You head inside, finding a note from Ellie that she’s across the street at Maria and Tommy’s house. The house is warm, and sure enough, it’s easy to find a few stray tea bags, some mugs, water and a kettle.

Henry takes a seat at the kitchen island as you make the tea, arms propped on the counter, shoulders hunched. Part of you wants to ask him about Emily, but you hold your tongue, searching the kitchen cabinets and eventually finding a few sugar packets.

“Deanna still talked about you a lot,” Henry says suddenly, and his voice almost makes you jump. “After we left Boston. I think she was mad at Nick, for taking us away, and I don’t know if they ever made up, really and truly.”

“She was mad?” you repeat, dropping the tea bags into mugs and filling them with hot water. “At Nick?”

He nods. “I don’t think she really believed him, when he told us you were dead. Em and I were just kids, but Deanna…she’d give him shit all the time, anytime he made a decision on the road, she’d always counter him and say something like, if Liv were here, she’d do this.”

It makes your throat tight. Sounds like the Deanna you remember.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and your brow lifts, “for believing him.”

You shake your head, setting one of the mugs in front of him and taking the seat beside his. “Henry, honey, you were just a kid. You couldn’t have known; you don’t need to apologize.”

He taps his fingers against the side of his mug. “You were always there for us, Liv. I remember that.” His forehead furrows. “I remember…you getting hurt? You slept on the couch in our apartment for a few days and…” He trails off, shaking his head, but you remember.

“I fell down the stairs,” you say, recounting the lie you’d offered to cover up the beating you’d received in FEDRA lockup, your penance for Joel and Tess coming into the QZ. “That was just after Joel showed up.”

He nods. “I remember being really, really worried when I saw all the bruises, and Deanna told me not to worry, that you were tough and you’d be fine, but I snuck out of bed that night anyway and just sat by the couch, made sure you were still breathing.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “I remember. You scared the shit out of me, honestly.” That earns you a laugh, and you put your hand on his knee. “But then you started crying, and so I hugged you and told you I wasn’t going anywhere, that there was nothing that could take me away from you kids.”

“But then Nick did.”

You inhale sharply. You’re entering dangerous territory. “He did. I don’t agree with him telling you that I was dead, but he had his reasons, Henry. And he did his best to protect all of you.”

“Do you know the reason?” he asks, and your heart sinks. “Because even if you were dead, it doesn’t make sense why he dragged us out of Boston like that.”

“I don’t understand FEDRA anymore than you do, honey. He told me you stayed in Chicago for a while; if they sent him there, he probably didn’t have much of a choice.”

“But why did he want to take us away from you? And why didn’t you come looking for us?”

Fuck.

You shove a hand through your hair with a sigh. “I didn’t know where he’d taken you. I was the last person FEDRA was going to divulge information to, and without knowing even which direction he’d taken you, there was nothing for me to go on.”

It’s not entirely the truth, but it’s not entirely a lie either. You had no idea where Nick had taken them when he did, leaving behind only the note he’d written, telling you not to come after them, that you should stay in Boston and that he’d keep your secret. A secret you don’t think you can bring yourself to tell Henry. Not yet, anyway.

Henry sips his tea and you stare down into your mug. Silence settles, but it’s only a few moments before Henry breaks it. “I miss her every single day,” he says, and your eyes lift. “Emily.”

It feels like a punch in the chest. Your eyes are sore from crying already, and yet tears spring anew. “I do too,” you tell him, “and I don’t have the same version you did. She’s still a little kid in my mind, drawing butterflies everywhere.”

“She got really good at it,” he continues, a sad smile pulling at his mouth. “Drawing, I mean. It was all she ever wanted to do, and Nick always made sure she had something to draw with. Good of him, I guess, despite it all.”

“Henry, honey, you can’t hate him forever,” you say, veering for a subject change, if only to beat down the grief rising in your chest. “You’re allowed to be mad; I’m mad as all hell. But Nick Cowan is the closest thing you’ve had to a father in this world, and you know that as well as I do. He did what he had to, and he did it to protect you.” You inhale sharply. “If the roles were reversed, I’d have done the same thing.”

That gets his attention. His head snaps up, eyes meeting yours. “What?”

You sigh. You can’t tell him, you know you can’t. But despite all of it, Nick lied to protect them because of you, and you can’t let Henry hate him because of what you did.

“It was my fault,” you say finally, and the grief feels like it might spill over anyway, but you can’t keep up the facade, can’t let Nick take all the blame for this. “I messed up, and it put everyone in danger, and that’s why Nick took you away. I never came after you because I didn’t know where you went, and Nick told me to keep my distance. It was never anything you did, or your sister, or Deanna. It was me, Henry. I caused this. So if you’re going to hate anyone, it should be me. Nick did what he had to.”

He stares at you for a long moment. You wish the floor would split open and swallow you whole, but it doesn’t. You brace your hands on the countertop, waiting for the shouting, the same words he’d hurled at Nick in the street.

But instead, you get, “Are you staying? In Jackson?”

Not what you were expecting, but you’ll take it. “Not for long. We came looking for Tommy, hoping he might know where to take Ellie.”

“That’s the girl that’s with you?” You nod. “You’re taking her to the Fireflies?”

Your brows shoot up. “How do you—”

He waves you off. “Tommy likes to talk when he’s drunk.”

“You—” You cut yourself off, unable to lie any further. “Yes.”

“And after? When she’s where she needs to be?”

Your brow furrows and you shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know. Joel and I haven’t decided. We’ve never had a decision like this available to us, and we’d have to talk to Maria more first, I think.” You stare down into your mug again. “I don’t think she likes us much.”

“Aren’t you supposed to hate your in-laws?” he jokes, the mood instantly lightening, and you bark a laugh.

“How would you know?” When his cheeks go red, you smile. “Someone special?”

Henry nods. “Very special.” He swallows, setting his mug on the counter. “His name is Cal.”

The spark in his eyes makes your gut twist with happiness. Despite it all, Henry’s managed to find something that makes his eyes light up like a Christmas tree, something that brings him joy you can feel.

You throw your arms around his neck. “I’m glad, Henry. I’m so, so glad.”

And you are.

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[snowdice]

Big Bang Editing Story [Day 122]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story years ago, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag ‘proofread stories.’ I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54

Not going to do much this morning because I only have an hour or so. I may do more later today however.

Chapter 55 (Logan)

Virgil was beginning to be able to read some of the common instructions in magic books, but Logan still made sure to read out the instructions to him at least twice before setting him loose. He’d started to jot down notes to himself about things, though these notes were not words, but various symbols that only made sense to the boy himself.

Logan had asked about their meaning at one point and received an answer that, while earnest, was unintelligible. The symbols were mostly just pictures of things to represent certain steps in spell casting, but they were filtered through Virgil’s rudimentary penmanship and often bizarre perception of the world.

Though, despite the fact that Logan could not often decipher his chicken scratch, it did seem to help him produce more and more quality charms even as Logan began to introduce more complicated processes to make them. He was a very good student even if he didn’t have the best foundation for learning.

“I add lavender for the next step, right?” Virgil asked, his finger on a word in Logan’s magic book.

“That is correct,” Logan confirmed.

Virgil looked back at the book and mouthed the word ‘lavender’ to himself before turning back to his potion. He grabbed a few sprigs of lavender and threw them into the cauldron.

The liquid popped and bubbled violently, but Virgil didn’t flinch as he once would have, prepared for it now.

After the lavender, Logan knew that it would have to simmer for 5 minutes. Virgil looked down at the boiling liquid, contemplating it for a long moment.

“Can I soak a knife in it?” he asked.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Can I soak a knife in the potion once it’s done?”

“In that potion?” Logan clarified. “In the emergency hand warmer potion?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I think a hot knife would be useful,” Virgil said.

“For what?”

Virgil shrugged. “Cooking food on the road,” he said, “burning wood, stabbing someone and immediately cauterizing the wound.”

“That is… not a standard use for this potion,” Logan said.

Virgil titled his head at him. “Would it work though?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Logan contemplated. “Perhaps. The potion can cause burns if one uses too much of it or if it is used without an appropriate layer between it and the skin. If one were to pick a knife with enough surface area and let it soak long enough, it could in theory get hot enough to do as desired. Hmm…” he thought about it. “There would perhaps be the problem of the potion not sticking to the knife very long as it is intended to soak into fabric. However, cardamom could solve that issue as long as it doesn’t interact with any other ingredients. Let me see that spell.”

Virgil stepped out of his way so he could study the page. “Yes,” Logan said after scanning through all of the ingredients. “I think cardamom would work for something like that. Let me go find some.”

He turned to walk towards where he kept his supplies of potion ingredients. Virgil followed on his heals.

“Can we use a serrated knife?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, Virgil,” Logan said, nodding as he searched through the cupboard that should hold the coriander. “The knife being serrated would help keep the potion stuck to the blade after many uses and would increase the surface area.”

“That was certainly my intention,” Virgil said smoothly. There was something odd about the tone that had Logan turning and blinking at him. Virgil just smiled at him innocently and Logan turned back to the cabinet finally locating the cardamom.

“So how are we going to use that?” Virgil asked.

“We’ll put it in right before the last step and let it sit for about 3 minutes,” Logan said. “If it doesn’t quite work, we may need to make another batch. There are options other than cardamom, but that’s the first idea that comes to mind and it’s a lot simpler if it works.”

He continued to speak of the many other options they could try as they returned to the caldron as well as how they could test the hot knife. It was already about time for the next step and Virgil did it without interrupting Logan’s rant.

Virgil listened to his suggestions with interest all while still making sure the potion he was making was progressing well.

Logan did eventually take over to finish the potion with the revised steps he’d come up with and they ended up with a potion that looked perfect except it was a few shades darker than the one they’d originally been planning to make.

“Well, it looks good,” Logan declared. “We will need to acquire a knife to test its effectiveness, however.”

“There are a few good ones in the kitchen,” Virgil pointed out. “I especially like the one 10 inch one with the black and white handle.”

“You have been eyeing up the kitchen knives?” Logan asked.

Virgil rolled his eyes as though that was not a perfectly reasonable question to ask him. “We should steal that one,” Virgil said.

“Do you think we’ll be able to sneak past Ms. Heart to steal a knife from her kitchen?” Logan asked.

“We can’t,” Virgil said. The ‘but I can’ was implied.

Logan almost didn’t believe him… and then he remembered the water pouch incident. “It’s the dinner rush,” Logan said. “We should probably wait for a bit.”

Virgil was shaking his head. “The dinner rush is the best time,” he said. “Everyone will be distracted, and all of the knives will be out and in prime stealing position.”

“And if Patton’s mother catches us messing around in her kitchen during her busiest time of day, she will have Father ground us for a week.”

“Then we just won’t get caught,” Virgil said.

“I’m not sure if it’s that simple,” Logan said with a frown.

“You can stay here if you want,” Virgil offered. “I’ll just go by myself.”

“No, I’ll come too,” Logan relented, though he did still have some reservations about the idea.

He let Virgil lead him towards the main dining hall. By now, Virgil knew the kitchens and dining hall very well.

“Stay here,” he said. They were in a hallway a few feet down from the staff entrance to the main kitchen. “I’m going to do some reconnaissance.”

“What type of reconnaissance?” Logan asked, but Virgil had already vanished before his very eyes. With a blink, Logan looked up and saw a dark figure disappear onto a balcony overhead.

Well, Logan really had no choice but to wait there for him. It wasn’t like he could follow him. He could hear the clatter of silverware on plates from the dining hall down the corridor as he impatiently waited. It only took Virgil a bit over five minutes to return. He dropped suddenly from above and landed in front of Logan in a crouch.

“Well?” Logan asked, letting a bit of irritation into his tone so Virgil knew he was displeased. Virgil did not seem to care.

“Got it,” Virgil said with a wide grin, brandishing a large kitchen knife.

Logan flinched back at the unexpected sight of a weapon.

“You said you were doing reconnaissance!” he sputtered. “Not…” he trailed off remembering that while they weren’t in eyesight of anyone right now, they could be in earshot of someone. He lowered his tone, “stealing the knife already.”

“I was doing reconnaissance,” Virgil said with a shrug, “and then I used the information gathered by that reconnaissance to steal a knife.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at him.

Virgil just smiled. “You would have gotten in my way.”

“I would not have,” Logan insisted.

“How many times has Patton’s mom caught you stealing food from the kitchens in the past?” he asked.

Logan pursed his lips. “That is Patton’s doing,” he said.

“Sure,” Virgil said with an eyeroll. “I’ll have you prove it some other day, but for now,” he twirled the knife around in a way that made Logan cringe even though he did seem to have an expert handle over it. “We have a knife.”

“Right,” Logan agreed with a nod. “We should continue the experiment.”

Virgil stored the knife away… somewhere on his person, and they snuck back to Logan’s rooms.

When Virgil handed over the knife, Logan did have to admit it was a perfect specimen for their project: long and saw-like with a heatproof handle.

Logan carefully set it in a shallow dish and proceeded to pour the potion they’d made onto it. They let it sit for a little under half an hour before carefully pulling it out of the concoction with tongs and letting it airdry. Meanwhile, Virgil suggested they set up a testing area with various old sheets and clothing. They’d even found and decorated an armor stand with an old suit that Logan particularly disliked.

“Well,” Logan said once he’d tapped the handle and had not gotten burned by the potion. “I think we can test it now.” For safety, he made Virgil put on thick heatproof gloves before handing him the knife.

“So how do I make it work?” Virgil asked.

“The original potion works through light friction,” Logan said.

“So just start stabbing things?”

Logan went to respond, but before he could, Virgil had already twisted around and sliced through one of the sheets hanging in Logan’s potion room. There was a sizzling noise as the knife cut through the sheet like it was tissue paper leaving two aflame halves flapping about.

Logan leapt forward to tear the pieces of sheet down and the two of them stomped on the flames to put out the fire.

“It’s perfect,” Virgil said with a grin once the charred remains of the sheet were extinguished.

“It does seem to work as intended,” Logan agreed.

“Let’s do it again,” Virgil said.

“Er, well, perhaps we shouldn’t…,” Logan started, but Virgil had already set his eyes on the armor stand they’d set up. That suddenly seemed like not such a good idea to Logan.

He stabbed the armor stand viciously. It went up in violent flames. Logan’s eyes widened as the blaze only seemed to get bigger as Virgil drew back the knife.

Virgil did not seem to share Logan’s worry as he turned and stabbed another piece of hanging clothing, setting it ablaze as well.

“Virgil, no! You’re going to burn the room down!” Logan yelped.

The armor stand, at that very moment, decided to fall to the ground. They had, perhaps, not set the testing area up as well as they should have because it fell directly onto one of Logan’s rugs and set that on fire as well.

“Oops,” Virgil said, eyes wide.

Above the sound of crackling fire, Logan heard a tapping on the door between his bedroom and work room. It opened slightly after a moment and Logan’s father’s voice called out as he was sticking his head into the room, “Um, what do you mean Virgil… is burning the room down!”

The moment Logan’s father fully processed the presence of the flames, he was bursting into the room. He at least remembered that there was a fire extinguishing powder stocked in Logan’s work room even though that fact had slipped Logan’s mind in the chaos. (Perhaps Logan should have thought to set it out when they were testing a fire knife, but Logan would just add that to his growing list of regrets.)

The king managed to put all of the fires out within 30 seconds of poking his head through the door, but the fire left in his eyes when he turned to look at them afterwards was perhaps more dangerous.

Virgil slowly hid the knife behind his back. It was probably a bit late for that.

“What were the two of you doing in here?” the king asked.

“Nothing,” Logan said. Virgil shot him a look that told Logan what the boy thought about his lying abilities.

Logan’s father put his hands on his hips. “‘Nothing’ set the rug on fire?”

“We may have been doing a small experiment,” Logan said.

“What experiment?” the king asked.

“…I do not wish to say.”

“Logan.”

“Virgil wanted a fire knife.”

“A what?”

Virgil frowned over at Logan. “Your resistance to interrogation techniques is deplorable.”

Father turned to look at Virgil and obviously spotted the fact that Virgil was holding something behind his back.

“Give it here,” Father said, though his tone was a bit gentler with Virgil than it had been with Logan.

Virgil debated it for a moment, but then offered over the knife with a pout on his face. Father gingerly took it and the fire-resistant gloves from him. “Where did the two of you even get this knife?”

“You can’t tell her,” Logan said.

“You stole a knife from the kitchens?!” the king asked.

“We borrowed it,” Logan said.

“Can it be used for cooking anymore?”

“…Well.”

“In the intended manner.”

“No.”

“Then you stole it.”

Logan just frowned and looked away.

“I’m going to go put this in a secure location,” Father said, grimacing at the fire knife in his hands. “No more experiments for you two for a month. I’ll sic Patton on you.”

With that, he picked up what was left of the fire extinguishing powder (just in case) and turned to exit the room.

“Well,” Logan said once he was gone. “That was irresponsible.”

“I could steal it back from him.”

“N-no don’t do that.”

“I definitely could though,” Virgil said.

“I did not hear you say that,” Logan said, putting his hands over his ears. “I am not responsible for any more of your actions in this matter. I am going to the library.”

He walked out of the room then and Virgil followed him to the upstairs library. He said nothing more about the fire knife, but Logan would be a fool to suppose he forgot about it.

Chapter 56 (Thomas)

“Good day for a picnic,” Helen commented as she handed over the basket Thomas had requested from her a few days before. He was taking Logan, Patton, and Virgil to the cliffs today and it was perfect weather for it. Spring was truly here, which meant that those of Thomas’s duties that had laid dormant over the harsh winter were about to start up again.

The world had been on pause for a bit considering no armies or agents from any kingdom could get through the snow the last few months, but the concerns of last fall were showing their heads once again.

Thomas had just gotten word a day ago that the queen of Lamir had routed out a second assassin hiding in her ranks over the winter. The assassin had been sent shortly after it was made clear that the queen wouldn’t bow down after the assassination of her mother. Luckily, the assassin sent for Queen Cecil had not managed to complete her mission during the winter months.

While there had been no similar attempt on Prijaznia soil, Thomas couldn’t help but feel it was only a matter of time now that the snow had melted. They were already working on increasing security in the coming weeks and, though it was doubtful an assassin had managed to hide in the castle all winter without revealing themselves, they’d be closely scrutinizing all of the newer staff members.

It would be a stressful time in the coming months, which is why, despite everything Thomas needed to do, he was still going to take his son and his son’s friends on a picnic today. Logan had already started taking on royal duties as of late, but he still hadn’t taken them all on quite yet. Considering this was last summer before Logan was of age, they should at least try to take advantage of it where they could. Patton was a year younger, but the sentiment held for him as well.

Then there was Virgil. Despite their best efforts, they still didn’t know enough about Virgil, but Thomas was fairly sure he’d never had a summer to enjoy until now.

“Thanks for prepping lunch for us,” Thomas said to Helen with a smile.

“No problem,” she said waving them off. “I put in some of Virgil’s favorites.”

“Great,” Thomas said. “Do you know where the kids are?”

“Patton said they were going to go pet the cats, so I’d guess they’re in the gardens.”

Thomas thanked her again and told her to have a good day before exiting the kitchen. There was a nearby door that led straight towards the part of the gardens Patton and Logan had always favored. He figured they’d either still be around there or they would have wandered towards the stables by now knowing that they’d be taking horses to the cliffs.

So, he decided to simply walk the normal path from the door to the stable, hoping to find them.

His prediction ended up being hilariously correct. They were indeed on the path Thomas had chosen. It was clear they (or at least Logan) were attempting to make it to the stable. However, as was typical, a portion of the party had been waylaid by whimsy.

Logan was standing further down the path, arms crossed and frowning as he watched his friends. Patton and Virgil were surrounded by cats. Patton was sitting down, holding two of them in his lap and watching Virgil’s legs being swarmed by the rest of them, maybe two dozen in total.

Virgil looked confused, but not unhappy about the presence of so many cats. He was leaning down to try to pet them all.

Logan met Thomas’s eyes as he approached and waved a frustrated hand at the two of them. Logan couldn’t help but smile.

“Virgil fed one of them,” Logan complained as though he wanted Thomas to somehow go into the past and prevent this crime.

Patton and Virgil looked over at Thomas, noticing him when Logan addressed him.

“You’re going to make Princess Marisol jealous,” Thomas said. Logan frowned at Thomas as he used the ‘Princess’ label for the cat.

“Princess Marisol decided not to come,” Virgil said with a shrug. He continued to pet one of the cats.

“She’s probably sleeping on my pillow,” Logan said, sounding grumpy.

Thomas just chuckled. Princess Marisol was technically Logan’s cat, at least that’s what the kids said, and she did spend much of her time in the royal rooms. However, she was very clearly actually Virgil’s cat. Virgil just spent a lot of time in the royal wing as well.

In fact, Thomas still didn’t know where Virgil was supposed to be sleeping. He and Mr. Deknis had actually tried to tail him a couple of times, but he always ended up sleeping in Logan’s room those nights.

Knowing Virgil, he might just sleep in the walls. Though that still did not answer the question of where his parents or guardians were. They still had not figured it out. Thomas would assume he was an orphan who’d snuck onto castle grounds for safety, but Virgil had told Mr. Deknis during their first meeting that he was supposed to be in the castle, and it had not been a lie.

Then again, it had slowly become apparent that Virgil was good at dodging the multrum’s powers. It was starting to seem more likely that he’d somehow inserted a second meaning into his answer to Mr. Deknis that night than he somehow had some ghost guardian no one was able to locate working in the castle.

“She deserves the pillow more than you,” Virgil said, bringing Thomas’s thoughts back to the situation at hand. The look of audacity on Logan’s face made Thomas chuckle.

Thomas cut in before it could become a fight. “I could get Princess Marisol a pillow, so she doesn’t sleep on yours. Or we can get you a new pillow if you’d prefer, Logan.”

“It’s not about the pillow for her,” Logan argued. “It’s about her inflated sense of superiority.”

“She deserves it,” Virgil declared. Thomas could tell he was just trying to rile Logan up, and Thomas was sure Logan knew it too, but still his son reacted exactly in the way Virgil wanted him to.

“You have enabled and encouraged this behavior from the start!” Logan seethed.

“She’s a Princess.”

“She is not a princess!”

Patton shook his head while squeezing the cats in his arms, completely used to this behavior at this point. He ran a chin idly over one of the cat’s heads while watching the argument.

“We’re never going to make it to the picnic at this rate,” Thomas said to him, “and after your mother made all of this wonderful food.”

“You’re the dad,” Patton said. “Make them stop.”

And, of course, Patton did just mean that he was Logan’s dad with that statement. However, when he glanced back up at the silly argument still going on between his son and the cat covered boy on the ground, it did almost look like a fight between siblings.

Especially with the dark hair and stubborn but mischievous look in Virgil’s eyes, Thomas could almost imagine the boy being his own child.

He shook away the thoughts and glanced at the picnic basket in his hand.

“We do have a lot of food in this basket,” Thomas said, pitching his voice up so that Logan (and more importantly) Virgil would hear them clearly.

Virgil immediately turned to look at him, abandoning all interest in antagonizing Logan to look at the basket curiously.

Thomas was never sure if he should be amused or worried about how food motivated Virgil often was.

“What’s in the basket?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not sure,” Thomas said. “Patton’s mom made it. We’ll just have to see once we get to the picnic area.”

Virgil nodded in understanding and began to gently scoot all of the cats out of his lap. Logan rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem inclined to continue the argument he’d been dragged into. Virgil and Patton got to their feet and they continued on their way towards the stables.

The horses Thomas had requested be prepared for their trip were already in saddles, though the stable hand who had been handling Mr. Apples seemed a bit dirtier and more exhausted than the rest.

The stable hand seemed as happy to hand Mr. Apples over to Virgil as Virgil was to have Mr. Apples handed over to him. Thomas received Bella with a smile and Logan and Patton got their own horses as well.

The Cliffs were about half an hour's ride from the main castle. There was a mostly well-maintained path to it, though it was easy to get lost if one didn’t know the way. Mr. Apples knew the way perhaps better than Thomas himself and seemed annoyed by the fact that Thomas was trying to lead the way.

Virgil and Thomas ended up side-by-side whenever the path allowed it to placate him.

He still marveled at how willing Mr. Apples was to let Virgil ride him, especially when he tossed his head in Thomas’s direction, a horse’s equivalent of giving Thomas a stink-eye.

“Are you excited for the picnic?” Thomas asked the boy beside him.

Virgil glanced over at him and nodded.

“I am too,” Thomas said. “It’s always beautiful this time of year. I’m glad I could find the time to take you all there this year.”

“Are you very busy?” Virgil asked curiously.

“I am king,” Thomas reminded, “and now that the world isn’t snowed in anymore things will be busy.”

“With the war?” Virgil asked.

Thomas paused for a few seconds. “Yes,” he confirmed. “With the war, but you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Virgil asked.

“You’re just a kid,” Thomas said.

“I’m 14,” Virgil said.

Thomas glanced at him. “Exactly,” he said, “a kid, and luckily, you’re in a place that can afford you the luxury of being one.”

“What do you mean?”

“The war has been mainly fought on Mocnejsi soil in recent years. Our boarders have held strong against invasions. Unless something goes horribly wrong suddenly, it would take a long time for the main conflict to get here. The only real threat in the castle would be assassins sent after me personally.”

“Right,” Virgil said. There was an awkward pause in conversation before he spoke again. “You’re winning the war then?” he asked.

“Something could always happen,” Thomas said, “but for the most part, yes, we have quite the advantage right now.”

“Oh,” Virgil said.

Thomas shook his head as they were coming up to a narrowing of the path. “Anyway, today is a day to not think about war. Today we’re going to have a lovely picnic and do some bird watching.”

“Right,” Virgil agreed from behind Thomas as Bella took the lead (to Mr. Apples discontent.)

When the path widened again, Thomas did his best to direct the topic to lighter subjects and soon they made it to The Cliffs.

Chapter 57 (Virgil)

Virgil had never been to a picnic. At least, that’s what Patton had informed him when Virgil had described his past experiences of eating outdoors. Logan had agreed even though he’d admitted that the definition of “picnic” was only eating a pre-packaged meal outdoors which Virgil had done plenty of times.

From what Virgil could tell, the main difference was just how much stuff one brought to a picnic.

In addition to the basket full of food (that Virgil still hadn’t gotten to look in yet), the king had brought a large soft quilt that he had Logan and Virgil spread out on the ground for them all to sit on.

Patton and Logan had also packed some things themselves to bring along. Logan had brought along a book to read, and Patton had brought along a board game (thankfully not checkers but something Virgil did not recognize). Virgil hadn’t brought anything (except for the fire knife he was definitely not supposed to have and was definitely not letting the king see) because he hadn’t known he was supposed to bring things. He wouldn’t have known what to bring anyway.

The blanket was soft and a much better alternative to sitting on the ground, especially because, while there was grass at the top of The Cliffs, there were also a good number of rocks.

The king set the picnic basket in the middle of the blanket once it was spread out and then lowered himself down to sit on one side. Patton quickly followed him, already fiddling with some of his board game pieces, though he wasn’t setting it up yet. Virgil highly doubted that Logan was going to be allowed to read his book unless Patton eventually got bored of the game.

However, they would, hopefully, be allowed to make use of the basket the king had brought along.

Virgil followed the king and Patton’s lead and got to his knees on the blanket across the picnic basket from the king. He peered at the basket curiously.

He didn’t quite know what picnic food was, but Patton had told them they’d be getting ‘picnic food’ and he was very curious about what that meant.

King Thomas smiled at him. “Let’s see what Patton’s mom packed us, huh?” He reached for the basket and flipped it open as Logan sat next to Virgil. “There is a lot more food than usual in here,” the king said, sounding amused. “Let’s see.”

He began to pull out packaged food and glanced in each package to identify it before setting it out.

“We have a few types of mini sandwiches,” he said, putting them down, “and some pasta salad.” He set down the bowl.

“We also have… er something else.” He showed it to Logan.

“They’re hot cauliflower bites,” Logan said instantly upon seeing them. Virgil perked up in excitement. That was one of his favorite foods.

“Ah,” King Thomas said, but shrugged and set it down. “We also have two desserts apparently: cookies and mini apple pies. That last one’s a bit extra for a picnic.”

“They’re very good,” Virgil said happily.

“And we also have.” King Thomas paused, looking confused. “Chicken alfredo?”

“Yes!” Virgil said.

“Why do we have chicken alfredo for a picnic?”

“It’s a Virgil picnic,” Logan groaned. “She packed us a Virgil picnic.”

“Hey, at least momma sent us something too,” Patton said.

“I think I’ll stick to sandwiches for today,” King Thomas said. He looked at Patton and Logan. “Do either of you want…?”

“No,” Logan said. Patton shook his head.

The king nodded and offered the entire covered bowl of chicken alfredo to Virgil. “Here, this one’s yours,” he said.

“Really?” Virgil asked tentatively. It wasn’t exactly strange for people here to offer him food, and he’d expected and anticipated getting to eat on this venture, but the king of the country offering him an entire bowl of his favorite food was something else.

“It’s not really my idea of a picnic food and you seem excited for it,” King Thomas said with a warm smile, still holding it out.

Virgil took it reverently. Despite the time it had taken to get to the cliffs, the bottom of the container was still warm. Virgil assumed it was one of the heating spells the kitchen sometimes used.

“Thanks,” Virgil said, setting it in his lap.

“Of course, Virgil,” the king said.

The bowl was enough for four people to have a little bit, but for one person it was a lot. Still, Virgil was offered a little of every other food in the picnic basket (and he ate a good number of the hot cauliflower bites).

“Where do you put all of that?” the king asked when Virgil finished polishing off the chicken alfredo bowl.

Everyone else seemed to have finished eating long before Virgil, though Patton still had a small plate of grapes, and he occasionally popped one in his mouth. King Thomas was currently setting up the board game they’d brought on the blanket between all of them.

Virgil shrugged in answer to his question. “It’s good,” he said, “and I don’t want to waste any of it.”

“You know we can just take the leftovers back to the castle and eat them later,” King Thomas said. “You don’t have to eat it all now.”

Virgil just shrugged again, watching as the king set out a group of 8 figures on the board.

“Here, which character do you want to be?” the king asked Virgil, gesturing at the group of figures. Virgil had not noticed the figures were different at first glance. They were all copper colored and about the size of his thumb, but they had slightly different shapes. He squinted at them each carefully, finding they all looked like people, but with different clothing. Some worse pants and some skirts, a few had hats, and one was even carrying a book.

After a few moments, he pointed at one that looked like it had vines wrapped around its arms and was wearing a floppy hat that almost covered its eyes.

“That’s the druid,” King Thomas told him with a grin. “Good choice, and luckily not one that anyone usually fights over.” He glanced at Logan who didn’t react to his father’s gaze. He just plucked the figure clutching the book off the board for himself.

Patton and the king picked pieces for themselves. Patton picked one with an apron that kind of reminded Virgil of his mom and the king picked one that was in a suit of armor before putting the other 4 figures away.

Unlike checkers, this game wasn’t just for two people, and so no one had to sit watching people play while bored out of their mind.

85949

They played a practice round so Virgil could figure out how the game worked, though honestly it wasn’t that complicated, so it wasn’t really necessary.

The theme of the game was all about stealing. They were supposed to steal special tokens from other players as well as characters in the game and the first person with 20 tokens won.

The other three players argued that stealing was not the point and not the main mechanism of the game, but considering Virgil was consistently winning the entire time, he would argue they were just playing it wrong. He managed to collect 20 tokens before anyone else. In second place at this time was Logan with 9 tokens.

Logan insisted on continuing to play the game to determine 2nd and 3rd place, so Virgil ended up watching them play for a bit. Virgil didn’t mind sitting and watching other people play this game, mostly because he still had the joy of victory running in his veins.

Thomas was definitely going to lose, he noted. He kept wasting his money feeding the nonplayer characters who lived on his lands. Virgil didn’t mention this faulty strategy to him in case Virgil ever played him again.

When Logan took too long thinking about his next move, Virgil took in their surroundings.

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He’d been a bit too distracted by the prospect of food and then trying to understand (and then win) the game to truly take in The Cliffs. They were settled a good distance away from the cliffside but Virgil could still see how quickly the edge dropped off. He couldn’t see the large river he was told was at its base from where he was sitting, but he did see a few of the promised wild birds (including doves) flying around. The king had promised they’d bird watch for a bit, and Virgil figured that would happen after the game was over.

A cool spring breeze brushed across Virgil’s face, and he put his hand in his hoodie pockets to warm them. Instead, his fingers hit something icy cold.

For a moment, he didn’t remember what it was. The crescent shape of it was familiar when he put his hand over it, but he had never felt it cold before.

It was the protection charm: the first charm Virgil had ever made with Logan so many months ago. It was meant to ward off small threats as well as warn you about larger threats by changing temperature…

It had always been warm.

“What?” Patton asked, having noticed Virgil suddenly tense. Virgil, despite how he drilled into his friend’s heads to stay alert had gone soft. He’d let himself be distracted by a full belly and warm blankets and fun games.

He didn’t answer Patton. He filtered the other boy’s worried face out as well as Logan’s face as he glanced at him and the king’s still focused on the game for now. He filtered out the picnic blanket and smell of food still lingering in the air and the vine covered figure set in the middle of the board on the winner’s space. He filtered out the sound of the breeze and the breath of his companions and the distant chirping of birds.

And he heard a whoosh.

[jmdbjk]

Episode 1: The Beginning

Beyond the Star, produced by HYBE Media Studio

Opens with a flashback of Namjoon explaining their belief in the concept of how any art, any genre of art, can change the world.

This opening footage was recorded during a press conference for CONNECT, BTS.

A good explanation of what CONNECT, BTS appeared on DAZED, January 14, 2020.

It was a huge wide-ranging global art project to link visual art to music art. This is one of the installations in New York City:

Then we see scenes of them arriving at Incheon Airport in February 2020.

In February 2020, they were about to embark on the MOTS world tour. They were really pushing into the western market, especially the United States. They were headed to the States to start promoting on the talk show circuit and for magazine interviews. Western media was all over BTS. The public relations hype for their tour was huge. It was going to be HUGE. BTS was HUGE. At this point in the documentary we see english speaking fans trying to buy tickets for this tour.

This was the beginning of the year that would be their magnum opus. 

Leading the docu-series with this reminds everyone what was supposed to happen and the impact they hoped to make here in the United States, to ride the wave of their success as far as they could go until they had to stop. Keep in mind they did not have any full English songs yet. 

As far as they knew, this would be the end as we knew it, the end of Chapter 1. We all know what was to follow the MOTS tour even though no one wanted to speak about it: Enlistment. Jin would enlist December 2020 even though rumblings of a potential military exemption were beginning to buzz.

This period of time and after was when MANY MORE became fans of BTS. MOTS:7 was a record-breaking album. They were riding HIGH.

The scene of them being told the MOTS tour was cancelled is gut-wrenching. It makes me think of the content they filmed that day (March 8, 2020 a music show?)

and I wonder at what point during the day they were told. Jimin and Hobi did a Vlive:

There are scenes of MOTS cancellation day in 2020 Memories, but not THIS scene of them being told the tour was cancelled. 

Then we jump forward to scenes of the members on the beach in LA (end of 2021) recalling their feelings and thoughts about the previous (almost) two years (the pandemic), reflecting on themselves. They had to overcome frustration, and change and adapt to reality. 

Some of them were able to do that easier than the others. We know Jimin had a rough time, and it was challenging for Jin, Tae and Yoongi. Namjoon and Hobi worked on music. Yoongi wondered what was the point of even releasing music at all.

Jungkook says even though they were sad, something good came of it, they realized how much singing and dancing – performing – meant to them and how it superseded everything else.

Jimin says he and Namjoon spoke about how they needed to organize their thoughts over the years pertaining to the reasons they are doing what they do, how they feel and what they want to do, perhaps in order to help them sort through the pandemic aftermath and to serve as sort of an outline of how to proceed... it is sort of how the rest of this documentary series unfolds: the past, the present, the future.

Namjoon begins sharing thoughts of how he felt in the beginning and we flash back to 2013 debut. And the rest say their thoughts about how they began. This is a good way for newer fans to understand how they began: hearing their words as mature adults reminiscing about their roots and their start. 

We’ve heard the general story of how they began with RM first and the rap line was assembled, then the vocal line was added with Jimin being the last to make the team. Bang PD recalls how impressed he was with Namjoon and knew this was someone special. 

I’m positive there were opinions, decisions and choices made that we will never know because we weren’t there witnessing the moments. Whatever those decisions were, some probably forgotten in time or only known by a few involved in the process, however it happened, these seven individuals were settled upon and the team was created. The rest is history. 

No one had an inkling of how much they would change the idol and kpop industry from what they then knew it to be.

Preparing for debut: one of the things Jungkook says is they expected hardships back then but looking back now, if he tried to do that now, he couldn’t do it, but back then, it was a given. Yoongi said they spent every moment in the practice room when they weren’t eating or sleeping… up all night practicing, so much stress and pressure amongst seven young passionate young men trying to make a good debut.…you can see the stress and fatigue on their faces.

Through all of that they reveal how hard they worked and how deep their commitment is. They felt it was important to convey this deep personal connection to each other they developed and how strong their bond is.

The events might be repetitive for people who’ve been Army since the beginning or since before 2020, but for the benefit of newer fans, presenting their story like this in the words of each member is important. 

The author of the book Beyond the Story, Myung Seok Kang, explains how much of an underdog BTS was in the beginning. They were from a small, barely making it company and had the audacity to win Best New Artist in 2013 at the Melon Music Awards. 

Hearing them state how they felt during that debut year, their young minds trying to process what was happening, thrust into society at such a young age, seeing their friends still being students, they had to reconcile within themselves that their lives were so different.

Jungkook (our now giant global pop star) said he remembers how small he felt hearing another really good singer in his in-ears as they prepared for a performance.

Watching them struggle to come up with the melody for Danger, working on it as a team from Jungkook, to Namjoon, to Yoongi, note by note… at such a young age and then not experiencing the expected success or gains after they had done that with the previous song… they thought this would be the end for them. All they wanted was to win first place at a music show…. CAN YOU IMAGINE?? The team was wavering.

Newer fans need to be aware of this struggle.

All of this led to them writing the album, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life, the real start of their rise to stardom. They finally bagged that 1st place music show win with I Need U. The win gave them the confidence they needed to push forward and they kept winning with each song after that. Seeing their confidence grow after each win is exhilarating.

This album is the turning point in their career, the launch pad, so-to-speak.

And the song, Yet to Come (The Most Beautiful Moment in Life) is the thread connecting Chapter 1 to Chapter 2 and beyond. We will have a Most Beautiful Moment in Life 10th Anniversary in 2025. This docu-series is the bridge between what was then, now and what is … yet to come.

Review of Episode 2 next…

[curiousquirks]

For the nsfw alphabet, I’d like to request all might! I’m interested to see your thoughts! 🥰

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Very attentive and affectionate. Will get his partner whatever they need and happily shower them in attention. Cuddles are a must and he’ll help them clean up. They’ll never need to lift a finger. Just give him words of affirmation and tell him you love him, he’ll be set for life.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself: In his hero form, it would’ve been his size. He loves being able to protect people, especially his partner, and is proud of how hard he worked hard to get there. In his true form, after the incident, he’s actually quite insecure. 

On his partner: He’d say all of them, he’s a romantic like that. A good personal favorite of his is actually their back. Especially when they’re undressing and giving him a show. It’s really intimate. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He produces a lot. He’d be pretty hesitant to cover his partner in cum but he’d actually be really into facials. Especially if his partner is eagerly awaiting it with their tongue out. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He definitely wants to make a sex tape. Is going to be way too flustered to even propose it though.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Considering how he looked in his youth, he definitely has some experience under his belt. He’s pretty good, skill wise but he’s still got plenty to learn.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

Missionary & Spooning (he loves intimate and close positions <3)

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

It can be pretty serious but he doesn’t mind it being kept lighthearted and a little goofy from time to time. He loves hearing his partner laugh and is a firm believer that humor isn’t going to ruin the moment.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Fairly average maintenance, his hair definitely grows thick.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Very intimate and romantic. He showers them with love constantly and that’s not going to change with sex. He’s making love to his partner, he’s putting his heart into it.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

No stranger to masturbation, sometimes being far too busy and away from his partner for long periods of time. He doesn’t mind it all that much, but it can’t compare to them in his eyes. He’s a pure imagination type of person too, thinking solely of various scenarios to get himself off (all involving his partner, of course). 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise

Voyeurism

Mirror Sex

Costumes

Overstimulation

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

The bedroom. He’s traditional like that.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Dirty texts or his partner feeling him up. Blunt obvious signs that they want him.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation or sadism type things. He won’t do it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Happily on his knees for his partner, without so much as a word. He loves watching their reaction from between their legs. He enjoys oral too, but isn’t of a mind to ever expect it. Prefers giving than receiving.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

The one area of his life he prefers to take his time with things. Slow and sensual majority of the time, but can keep up his partner’s demands easily. Quick to lose himself when he’s close because they just feel so good. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Has happened a few times, because he just couldn’t wait. Especially if his partner pays him a surprise visit. He’s fond of them as a way to spice things up sometimes but usually prefers proper sex.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Pretty hesitant to experiment but is willing to give some things a try if his partner seems really into it. He secretly wants to take some risks every once in a while, like doing it somewhere semi-public. With enough trust and talking he’ll be willing to try most things with his partner at least once. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

In his younger days he’d outlast his partner despite their best efforts to keep up. He could go for hours and hours, round after round, and still be able to for more. Nowadays, he could go for two rounds if they’re paced out. It’s part of the reason he likes taking his time. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s more of a traditionalist, so he’s never really used anything more than something to tie their hands or maybe cover their eyes. He prefers using his hands or mouth personally but once he learns about them? Whole new world. Whole new appreciation too.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh not at all. He’s far too giving for him to force you to beg for what you want. He’s a secret fan of his partner teasing him sometimes; it gets him all flustered and their reaction is something he does enjoy a lot.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Will make grunts and groans when it gets into the heat of the moment but he’s fairly quiet. He gets flustered easily when he makes a lot of noise.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He loves getting dirty texts/lewd photos when he’s working. He’ll always quickly hide his phone away from any peeping eyes but he adores it when his partner reminds him how much they miss him and need him.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

It’s proportional. It’s huge. It’s pretty intimidating but you just can’t take your eyes off of it.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Slightly below average. He doesn’t actually have that high of a drive naturally, his partner would be the one to bring it out in him more. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

In his youth, he wouldn’t. He’d be energized and ready to take on the world. After his injury, he’ll fall asleep really quickly afterwards once he tends to his partner’s needs. Once he lays his head back onto that bed, cuddled up next to his partner he’s out like a light. 

[writingwisterias]

Pegging sub!Chris? ❤️

Thank You for the request! I think RE5 Chris is sub coded so I had him in mind when writing but you can choose whatever Chris ~ Mads <3

Words: 803

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, Dom! Reader, Sub!Chris, Pegging, Degration kink, Praise Kink, Slight Mommy Kink, Overstimulation

Masterlist

Chris had arrived home a few hours ago, his body was still tense and his heavy sighs of frustration started to annoy you. He was acting like a brat, ignoring things you had asked him to do or was just generally being a moody bastard. You had decided enough was enough and ordered him to lay on the bed naked for a few hours with his wrists attached to the bedposts via handcuffs; which is where he was now watching you pick the size strap-on you were going to use for him. His wrists tugged against the cuffs you had attached to him, he could feel the soreness creeping in as they ever so slightly tightened after each movement he made. “Hmmm…I think we should use a large size today, don’t you? Since you decided to be a brat since you’ve been home” You spoke, your voice dripping authority allowing the work-life dominance he held to slip away. He nodded weakly and gave an audible gulp leaving his lips as you held it up for inspection. “I think this will do just fine,” you said as you began to strap it in place. “Don’t you?” 

Chris nodded his cock twitching as he watched you slowly climb over to him. The tip was an angry red as it begged for your touch, pre cum beading at the top. “Poor boy, that looks painful. How about mommy kiss it better for you?” you teased, your lips ghosting the sensitive area. “Please- I’m sorry I was a brat” he whined, tugging again at the handcuffs. You gave him a low chuckle, humming as you pretended to think about it. He gasped as he felt your lips kiss the tip, eagerly licking the cum he was producing for you, enjoying the salty taste in your mouth. His hips bucked up at the pleasure, causing you to glare at him as his dick hit the back of your throat. “S-sorry” he whimpered out, using every one of his hard muscles to keep his hips down. You could feel the tension throughout him as he desperately tried to be a good boy for you. He already knew his bratty behaviours were what caused this situation so why make it worse as you were finally giving him pleasure? He could feel the toy prodding at this entrance, slightly stretching him. The lube was cold causing him to flinch away from it which only prompted you to chase him with it, eventually the tips sliding in. As you heard him wince you pulled away from his cock for a moment just to help him spread his legs around you, grinning as you felt them immediately circle your waist causing you to be trapped by his thighs. The strong muscle began contracting to cause you to tap his leg “I know you are an eager boy, but mommy needs to be able to move” you chuckled. 

He groaned loudly as he felt you slip the toy back inside with one long thrust, making sure to go as slowly as you could as he adjusted to the size. You distracted him by slowly rubbing the tip of his cock as it angrily leaked precum again, his hands tugged at handcuffs, the veins in his arms bulging with the need to hold you, to feel your breasts or soft skin between his fingers. You giggled at his reaction, at the way his poor sensitive body twitched beneath you. A fitting punishment for such a grumpy man. You slowly began to move, angling your hips to reach the spot that made him cum the fastest.  Your hand slowly began to stroke the whole length of his cock, the length was thick and heavy in your hands as lewd wet sounds began to fill the room. You could see his balls tightening, his groans turning into breathy pants as you angled your hips yet again to his g-spot. He was so close. You began to move faster, excited waiting for the volcanic eruption of his cum that would dribble onto your hand from his overstimulation. You didn’t have to wait long because, after a loud curse and the sputter of his hips, his cum began to create a mess on your hand and his stomach. His tear-stained face met yours with a large grin before it fell back against the bed exhausted. “Good boy” You spoke, removing yourself from him as you left to clean him up. 

This was Chris’ favourite part, the aftercare. It was always what he craved after his missions, the gentleness of your touch as you wiped him clean, how you pulled him into your chest so he could fall asleep to your fingers running through his hair. “Thank you” He whispered into your neck as sleep finally greeted him. “You're welcome”

[andguesswhat]

I normally don’t do this but here is the thing: Yes, of course it's his decision and yes, of course he's not forced to sign contracts, yadayadayada, but I still feel sorry for him, because to me it looks like he thinks he has to do that and unfortunately doesn't see any other option. And I think the main reason is that he lives in this bubble and is friends with a gay Hollywood star, whose advice he listens to, like you know how you shouldn't play superheroes and stuff.

Yes, I’m talking about fucking Leo!  He may be a nice guy, but come on, he has the creepiest image you can have, he doesn't seem to care, and he doesn’t stop doing that shit. He could risk it, he’s famous enough, and still, he somehow doesn’t.

So what if everyone in your bubble tells you to do it and that it's okay, that it's no big deal, that you let them talk, etc? Kind of works for Leo, doesn’t it? (well….)

You can be intelligent as fuck and not see it. Or maybe even see it and still act differently because all the people around you are driving you to.

And not every action can be rationally justified. Especially not with such an emotional peach.

Because there is definitely an emotional decision behind it, whatever it is.

It's the hope of being as famous and successful and becoming an acting legend.

It’s the fear of not playing along with the studios and screwing things up.

And maybe it's even shame because you're not who the studio bosses would like you to be.

The shame of having dated a married family man who has had to endure kink shaming, whose kink you most likely share, who has fallen from grace.

It can be so many things and everything, in the end it's all human emotions that make you do something like that. 

You can be damn intelligent and still do wrong things.

You may know the damage you are doing, even to yourself, and still think you have no choice.

You do things that you know are not good for your health.

He is intelligent, but that doesn't mean he is in all situations in his life. It doesn't mean he knows what's good for him personally. He can’t even know what's good for his career. There are too many uncertainties and necessary coincidences at play for that. Only time will tell. It’s a game you can either win or lose.

The crux is that he started way too early with this shit, so soon, if he's not careful, he'll be known as a celebrity that can act. Because unfortunately I see that the same way as others: Paul Mescal and co. will be taken as good actors. He will be the actor who dated Kylie.

And it will dull him. Maybe he'll get his act together, but if he continues he'll keep losing his pureness. Because who knows: is he as tough as Leo or is he just hoping to be?

So there of course is always another choice but if you don't see it, what can you do? If you see it but nobody encourages you to take it, what can you do?

And even if ... As much as I would love to see him as a lower profile actor in small movies and on stage ... when I think about when I saw him happiest in the last year, the pictures from the shoot in New York come to my mind. Yes, from my point of view, a wrong choice, a stupid commercial shoot, driving him away to become an acclaimed actor, but look at him, he was so happy and proud to work with Scorsese.

And when I think back to the other happy moments that happened a year ago. He was so happy and proud to promote Bones & All, a movie he co-produced, and at the same time he was able to express himself with his stunning outfits and show the world who he really is, without having to define his sexuality.

Why would he want to give that up? Can’t you imagine how hard this is to give up? When nobody can tell you what happens when you leave the path?

So, in the end, he has all my sympathy even when I don’t think his decisions are good or wise, I’m still rooting for him that he achieves everything he wants to achieve and i'm hoping that at the end of the day he rests beside someone he loves deeply and very stubbornly.

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: You and Hongjoong have a special bond that’s a little different than the rest of the thunder. Pairing: dragon!Hongjoong x bunny!reader (background of poly!ateez) Tropes: hybrid au, established relationship au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: implications of unhealthy habits, mentions of magical abilities Smut Warnings: dragon cock lol, cockwarming, studio sex, size kink, mentions of sexual relations with other members Word Count: 839 Note: for the Tarot Card Drabble Event & a future part of CTASF ;) Requested by: @sanjoongie​

The Lovers ➾ Sex at home, comfortable setting, aftercare, cuddling, lazy sloppy sex, cockwarming, romantic sex

You don’t know how you ended up wandering around the house at sunrise. Nor do you know when you ended up in front of Hongjoong’s studio. Yet, here you are. You know it’s likely that he won’t be able to hear you if you were to knock, so you opt to just walk in. Your white ears are slightly droopy, with the start of sleep tugging at you. You see Hongjoong’s peach-scaled tail stretching out behind the chair, shifting once in a while when he resituates. He’s producing something again. His headphones were secured over his ears. His lavender eyes are thinly slitted, showing how focused he is on whatever he’s working on. You approach carefully and place a hand on his shoulder so as not to startle him. He still jumps slightly but relaxes the moment he realizes it’s you. He pauses his work and takes his headphones off.

“Hi sweet bun, everything okay?” he asks.

“I’m always awake around this time.” you chuckle, “The real question is, why are you still awake? The rest of the thunder is fast asleep still.”

“I want to get this done. I froze time for a little and ended up procrastinating still.”

You hum, “Do you need another pair of ears?”

“I think I just need a break.” he sighs.

He rolls his chair back and pats his thigh. You know exactly what he’s asking. You climb into his lap and slot your legs through the armrests of his chair. He wraps his arms tight around your waist as you melt into his hold. Your ears flop down, and you let out a small purr-like noise, feeling so safe with him. One of his hands wanders up and down your spine in a relaxing pattern for a few moments. Then you notice something hard under you. You sit up straight in his lap, and he gives you a confused look.

“Joongie,” you whisper, “I can feel you.”

“I know, hops. We don’t need to do anything, though. The last thing we need is to wake up Wooyoung again; he almost electrocuted both of us last time.”

“Could we,” you stop yourself, “Maybe we could just… I don’t know.”

“Hey, what is it? There’s no shame here, especially in my studio.”

“What if we just cockwarmed.” you shyly nibble on your lower lip.

Hongjoong lets a smile grace his scale-framed face; his slitted pupils widen, showing his concern melting into happiness.

“If that’s what you want, honey bun. You go ahead and take your shorts off. You’re practically swimming in Seonghwa’s hoodie. No one will see anything if they interrupt.”

You nod and get up. The fact that he took your wishes into consideration made your heart do summersaults despite it being such a simple thing. When you return from placing your folded shorts on the couch against the back wall, you see your second eldest boyfriend waiting for you. His hard member in his hand waiting for you. Of all your boyfriends, you tend to have a slightly tougher time taking Hongjoong than others. Not to say that any of them are small, quite the opposite. Being a bunny hybrid dating eight dragon hybrids, your poor body could hardly handle any of them at first. With Hongjoong, though, his tip is far bulgier than others of them. With the ridges on the underside, too, you practically crumble the instant he’s inside you.

You climb back into his lap, positioning yourself over him. He takes his free hand and holds your cheek in his palm. You lean into his touch, your ears flopping down, feeling relaxed by the contact.

“Take your time, honey bun. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“I- I should be okay. Yun had me stowed away in his room all day yesterday since he had off.” you admit, the heat of a blush burning through your skin.

“I know, hops. I still want you to be careful and take your time, though.”

Slowly but surely, you sink yourself onto Hongjoong. Your thighs quiver as you push the last bit of him into you. His thumb runs across your belly, feeling exactly where his tip hits inside you. He lets his hand settle on your side, nearly covering it despite him having small hands in comparison to your other partners. Hongjoong lets his other hand pet one of your snow-white ears. You hardly realize when you start drifting off into a daze, you could almost compare it to sleep.

“Honeybun,” Hongjoong gently calls, “I got a bit of inspiration. You can continue resting. I just wanna get this idea out into the program.”

You hum in response, “What time is it? You didn’t freeze time again, did you?”

“No, honeybun, it’s almost 7 am now. Do you have anything planned today?”

“I asked Mingi if I could shadow him at work today. His lectures aren’t until noon and 3 pm, I think.”

“Let’s stay here for a while, then. I enjoy these times with you.”

“I do, too, Joongie.”

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