#anyway my shock thoughts are really funny. she pressed on my nails to check for dehydration and my single thought was

[disabled-queer-culture-is]

Disabled culture is going to see a doctor about a new medical scare and being able to predict exactly what they’re going to suggest, because it’s the exact same thing every doctor tells you for everything

[lothlaer]

Proposal: Jaskier's got a fist clenched painfully hard one time when he's really really hurt and Yen has to force his palm open so she can tangle their fingers together and try to keep him from hurting his own hand. And they're both kind of like "oh" at some point idk 😳

Anon this apparently awakened something in me, so thank you for expanding on my post and giving me the inspo to write (checks notes) 1.7k. Hope you enjoy whatever this is!!! 

Pre-yennskier, description of blood and injury, 100% hurt/comfort. Read on AO3

“Stop fucking moving,” Geralt hisses, pushing down hard on the hips beneath his hands to still the man’s squirming.

A choked off, muffled whine dies in Jaskier’s throat, his lips pursed tight enough to turn them pale and thin. He’s panting through his nose, clearly in agony, and too out of it to understand that moving will only make this worse.

Yennefer spares the witcher a glance, noting the anxiety and fear that’s obvious on his face, in the tension across his brow, the frantic not-focus of his eyes that flick between the bard’s half-delirious expression and the gaping wound at his side.

She’s done all she can to heal him, sealed up the torn and leaking insides that they all know would have killed him if they hadn’t been here – that still might kill him if they can’t stem the blood loss and prevent infection. She thinks of it like this; clinical, sensible, because she has to.

Jaskier’s heartbeat is quicker than it should be, his breathing equally fast, panicked and pained and shallow. She keeps her ear trained to its frantic rhythm, notices how Geralt’s heart thumps faster than normal too, almost human, almost matching hers. She’d laugh at the symmetry of it all, if it were funny. She’s sure Jaskier would write a poem, if he knew, but she won’t ever tell him. 

He stills a little under the pressure of Geralt’s hands, though still struggles. He probably can’t help it by this point, too confused and the pain too intense to allow much rational thought. Geralt can’t work if he keeps kicking, shifting his hips to try to escape the discomfort.

“Yen,” Geralt growls, and she’d tell him off if she thought it would help.

She tells him off anyway, growling his name back as she presses her weight onto the bard’s chest, keeping him pinned. She watches his face, stares at the lines of tears down his temples, wrung out from his scrunched eyes.

The tight seam of Jaskier’s lips splits open, a deep groan and hitching sob forcing its way out as Geralt flushes the wound. He shifts again, and it’s only then that Yennefer notices his hands. The one nearest her grips at her skirt, tugging it towards himself, the other clenched tight enough at his side that the whites of his knuckles stand out even against his bloodless skin.

She reaches for it before she can think about it, dragging his hand over his chest, looking at the way he’s digging his nails into the meat of his palm.

Yennefer doesn’t say anything as she fits her thumb under his, prying it open like the hinge on a rusted box. There’s no treasure within as she does the same with his fingers, forcing them loose enough that his reflex to clench releases, each digit unfolding only to reveal deep indents in his skin like faint purple mouths.

She slips her fingers between his, taking the pressure into her own grip, resting their joined hands over his heart.

He blinks up at her, eyes wet with tears, then lifts his head to look down at himself.

“Don’t look,” Yennefer snaps, pointedly leaning forward to block the vivid red of Geralt’s hands from view.

She knocks her knuckles against his breastbone, drawing his attention back, and he focuses in on the press of their skin together.

She thinks that if he had enough blood left in his body to do so, Jaskier would be blushing. She feels heat rise in her own cheeks in sympathy. His lips part on an inappropriately dreamy sigh, and she realises she’s stroking her thumb back and forth over his clammy skin, then swiftly stops.

Yennefer checks his expression and discovers his eyes on her again, a long moment dragging on as she finds herself unable to look away, their faces closer than she realised and his short breaths puffing against her skin. She’s horribly aware of their entwined hands, the unpleasant sensation of drying blood and mud between them, the frantic heart mere centimetres away, trapped beneath only by fragile human flesh and bone.

Between another aborted cry of pain and a feeble attempt at another kick, Jaskier lets his head fall back to the ground, gaze swimming and dizzy as he stares up at the canopy of the trees above them, his grip tightening to the point of pain as the joints in Yennefer’s hand compress.

She loses track of time for a while, her knees and back aching from being folded over for so long, the quiet and sometimes unpleasant noises coming from Geralt working opposite her the only way to gauge how long they’ve been here, alongside the warbling beat that still echoes against her eardrums. It’s not like his usual music.

She looks back to his face after some time, catches his eyelids fluttering.

“None of that,” she scolds, loud enough to jerk him back into wakefulness.

She turns her head to look at the wound, relieved to find it closed with stitches, no longer sluggishly leaking blood down Jaskier’s side. He’s still covered in it, soaked into his shirt and the trousers covering his propped-up legs, even on the blanket they’ve thrown over him.

Geralt looks up and the relief is clear on his face; they’re not out of the woods yet, but it’s a step in the right direction. His eyes flick to Jaskier’s hand in hers, looking pointedly at where he’s still gripping her dress too, then walking away with a mutter about getting bandages.

Yennefer finds herself alarmingly embarrassed, and withdraws her hand.

Jaskier doesn’t complain, his fingers falling loose and curled where she leaves them.

Geralt returns quickly, begins packing the injury. Jaskier jerks again, then they begin the agonising process of winding bandages around his waist, having to manoeuvre him upright enough to pass them under his back.

By the end he’s even sweatier and paler than he was before. His noises of pain throughout have been quieter than Yennefer was expecting, the usual volume and raucousness of his voice muffled and contained. It’s simultaneously impressive and irritating – men, she thinks.

He groans long and low nonetheless as they shift him sideways onto a bedroll and prop another bag under his knees.

“It’s done, it’s over,” Yennefer finds herself saying quietly while Geralt resituates the blanket.

She wipes a tear away from Jaskier’s cheek with the backs of her fingers, and tries not to overthink the action in the seconds afterwards as his sobs subside.

He’s trembling, either from pain or shock or the cold, and Geralt wastes no time getting him water with some herbs mixed in. He drinks greedily, water spilling out around his mouth until the witcher urges him to slow.

Geralt lays him back down, calls his name softly until his wobbly attention wanders back to them.

“All better?” Jaskier murmurs after a moment, eyelids already half-mast.

Geralt lays a wet cloth over the bard’s forehead and holds his palm on it, steady and reassuring, long enough to lean over and catch Jaskier’s gaze.

“Good enough,” he says, beginning to wipe away the sweat and dirt from Jaskier’s face in gentle strokes.

“Bastard,” Jaskier mutters, eyes falling closed. He only settles for a moment before jerking awake, his eyes wide and alarmed. “Yen?”

He looks around blearily, waving an uncoordinated hand out – seeking her presence, Yennefer realises. She reaches for him, grasping his hand in hers. His gaze snaps to her, and softens.

“Okay?” he asks.

His skin is cool, his heart still racing.

“You’ll be pissing us off with your usual obnoxious poetics within a day, I imagine.”

He frowns at her and shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

“No,” he swallows dryly, “you okay?”

Yennefer opens her mouth, ready for a witty retort to manifest, but all that emerges is the escape of a surprised breath. She thinks of the way they’d been standing side by side when the attack had happened, the way the bard had fallen against her and brought her to her knees in the grass and mud, last autumn’s shed of rotting leaves compacting beneath her hands. The drip of red blending against the dirt. Her stomach twists, then releases.

“Rest, Jaskier.”

He still stares at her.

“I’m fine, you fool.” She squeezes his hand again, thinks of the indents on his palm. “Rest.”

He does, finally, slipping easily into something deeper than sleep. She knows she and Geralt will have their senses fixed on the pump of his blood for days yet, and that it’ll be a while before his body replenishes what he’s lost.

For now, the steadiness of his pulse and his breathing will have to be enough, even if they remain unnatural and fast.

Yennefer realises she’s been staring for a while when she notices Geralt bringing a bowl over, his hands and arms already washed clean of the mess from the past hour.

“Wonderful timing,” he says dryly, shaking the red-tinged water off his fingers with a couple of quick flicks.

“For what, witcher?” Yennefer says shortly, her nerves strung thin and dangerous.

Geralt snorts. Yennefer glares.

“For a realisation.” He smirks at her, smug.

“Fuck off,” she spits, not turning away quick enough to miss the way the man’s smile widens further.

She draws her hands away from Jaskier, his grip limp now, and washes her hands too, surprised to see the ripples on the surface from where she’s shaking. Geralt comes up behind her, his hand falling to her shoulder, and they both look down at the bard. The porcelain tinge of his skin is unnerving, his eyes bruised, and dirt and leaves still cling to his hair. But he’s alive, alive, and the knots in their chests release.

She thinks about leaving now her job’s done, the unpleasant warmth blooming somewhere in her gut making her want to run away, to flee from whatever the bard’s pain and gaze and hands have triggered in her, the feeling snapping sharp like a wire under her skin.

Geralt squeezes her shoulder.

“Stay with him.”

Yennefer feels the words rumble through her, less than an order but more than a suggestion. Her heart leans into it, giving way so carelessly to harmonise with the rhythm of his.

She stays.

[troublesomeshika]

After all this time, I'm still into you (3)

shikamaru nara x reader word count: 4.7k warnings: swearing, anti-kiba, fluff

You woke up groggily, the events of the day before coming back to you in pieces as you solved the puzzle. Something fluttered in your stomach but you pushed it down. Looking at the clock you saw it showed 10:07. If you were going to get your errands done, you needed to be out of bed thirty minutes ago at the latest. You threw the covers off, stretching as you stood. First things first: laundry. You threw your clothes from the night before into your hamper, grabbing the few stragglers that lay around the room to be sure they made it in. Quickly throwing on an outfit, you grabbed the hamper and walked it down to the washing room. After you’d finished and hung up your clothes to dry, it was almost noon. You glanced at your pantry, seeing the dust that had begun collecting on some of the shelves and groaned. You needed to hand in your fixed report so groceries would just have to wait until later tonight.

You were jogging, it had taken longer than you’d expected to hand everything in and it was already past twelve. You came to a halt a block from Ichiraku and tried to steady your breathing. Looking down, you smoothed out your shirt and ran your hands over your hair before shaking your head. You were having lunch with a friend, you didn’t need to look perfect. Shaking your head, you looked up to see Shikamaru standing outside the ramen shop with an eyebrow raised. 

“How are you always late to everything?” he chided as you walked up and ducked beneath the pulled back curtain into the small booth. 

“Sorry, sorry, errands took longer than I thought.” You smiled at Teuchi behind the counter as you took a seat near the wall. Shikamaru sat next to you, your elbows bumping together in the small area. You willed your stomach not to flip at such a small thing, reminding yourself, once more, that you were friends, best friends.

“So, they took it with your corrections and everything?” Shikamaru looked up from the menu.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I got chewed out for making the mistake even though they already yelled at me for it when they first gave it back, but it’s whatever.”

He chuckled, “Maybe you’ll do it correctly next time.”

You slapped his arm, looking down at the menu to decide what you wanted. Once the two of you ordered, you turned to him. “So what have you done today? Been at all productive, or no?” 

He glared at you, “I’ll have you know that I woke up early and went to training with Ino and Choji, so no comments on my laziness. I’ve earned the rest of the day off.” 

“Oh so one morning training session earns you a half day off? Guess I should have at least 2 years of vacation stored up then.”

“Uh, yeah. And yet you’d never take any unless I made you. But don’t worry, I’m a giver.” He smirked at the last part.

You rolled your eyes, “Oh yes, it must be so hard, but thank god you make the sacrifice.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

He shrugged, “It’s my duty, otherwise I’d be hard at work right now.” That made you laugh out loud, something about the idea of Shikamaru working hard was unimaginable. “Hey, woah it’s not that funny, I do work hard sometimes.” That only made you snort.

“Mhmm yeah, you. Shikamaru Nara. Working hard at something? That’d be a site to s-”

“Y/N?” You heard a voice behind you, which made you turn your head. 

“Oh, uh hey Kiba.” You smiled and brought a finger to your face, trying to quickly wipe the small tears at the corner of your eye.

He only glowered in response, looking between you and Shikamaru. “Already moved on, huh?” 

Your brow furrowed, “What?” You glanced at Shikamaru whose face showed no emotion.

“I saw the way you used to look at him, you’re doing it now. I knew you had feelings for him the whole time.” 

“Woah woah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He scoffed in response.

“Hey, I’m trying to have lunch with my friend, so you can kindly fuck off if you’re gonna be weird about it.” You started to turn back around before he piped up again.

“So were you fucking him behind my back or is this a new development?” he sneered, “I should’ve known when you said it just wasn’t working between us, can’t expect you to slow down, right?” 

You felt like the air had been knocked out of you. “Excuse me?” You stood, raising an eyebrow at the boy in front of you, “I didn’t do what you’re accusing me of, but if you wanna do this in public, let’s do it,” Your smile was icy- you loved him, how could he ever accuse you of something like this? 

“No,” he shook his head. “I’ve had enough of this, Y/N.” 

“Enough of what?” Shikamaru’s drawl came from behind you, “Kiba, stop spouting off.” 

“You shut your mouth!” Kiba exploded.

“You’re the one accusing people here!!” You yelled at him. 

“Yeah because you’re the one on a date weeks after breaking up with me and acting all heartbroken.”

“So what if she’s on a date, Kiba, you don’t own the girl.”

“This isn’t a date and Shikamaru, stay the fuck out of this.” You gritted your teeth. The last thing you needed was another person involved in whatever this was.

“God, the two of you are so troublesome, you’re drawing a crowd. Kiba, just leave, you’re not going to accomplish anything here.”

The boy practically snarled at the two of you, baring his teeth before turning on his heel to stalk off. You were breathing heavy, fists clenched when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Rounding on Shikamaru you spat at him, “Why did you butt in? I didn’t ask you to say anything, now he’s definitely going to think I cheated on him. God!” You brought your hand to your forehead and squeezed hard.

“Hey, just.... sit back down. C’mon.” He guided you to your stool as you felt the lump in your throat that had been threatening to form.

“Why did he have to do that in public.... Now everyone will think I’m a cheater.” You stared at the counter in front of you. 

“It’s Kiba, what could you expect? He’s a hotheaded idiot, I still can’t believe you even gave him the time of day, let alone dated him.”

“Really not the time, Shikamaru.” You pressed your fingers to your temples, “I didn’t need this today.” Your nerves were so shot that when Ayame placed your order in front of you, you jumped.

“Honestly, I really don’t think anyone is gonna think that.” His hand rested on your back now, but you were too preoccupied to think about it.

“God, I just, the worst part is that I still love him so much? Why would he....” tears reappeared at the corners of your eyes, this time stinging with anger and pain.

“Hey, look at me.” You continued staring at the bowl in front of you, afraid that if you moved, your composure would break and you’d be reduced to crying in public. “Y/N, I need you to look at me, right now.” Shikamaru’s voice was firm and unwavering, but you could only shake your head softly. You sensed him stand up beside you before he turned your body and enveloped you in a hug. Your face hidden, tears spilled quickly onto his shirt, it was short but needed. You clenched your fist, digging your nails into your palm to ground you before taking a deep breath and untangling yourself from Shikamaru. When you looked up, his cheeks were flushed, likely from secondhand embarrassment. 

You smiled sheepishly, “Sorry about that, didn’t mean to fall apart on you!” you wiped your face quickly, turning to your bowl of food, “Better eat before it gets cold!” You forced an upbeat tone into your voice, trying to hide how you felt. Shikamaru sat down beside you and you felt his gaze still on you. “I’m okay, really, I just.... Having a bad day I guess.” You took a bite of your food and swallowed it, willing the lump in your throat to disappear. “Anyways, I overheard that your team is being sent out on a mission soon, do you know what it’s for?” Looking up, his eyes were studying you, picking you apart as only he could. 

He turned to his own food, picking up noodles on his chopsticks before replying, “I think it’s something about retrieving some stolen information, but I’m not sure. I didn’t really read the message they sent me, just looked at when we’re leaving.” 

“Which is?” You took another bite, beginning to realize how hungry you were.

“Tomorrow morning.” He took a bite and your eyes lingered on his lips a second longer than a friend’s eyes should. 

“Oh, so you probably need to get ready, I guess just lunch for today then.”

“Tch, you’re not getting out of it that easily. Especially after what just happened.”

You rolled your eyes, taking another bite before replying, “Please, it was a momentary lapse for me, I’m really alright and if you need to cut out to prepare, I can just take a rain check.”

He shook his head. “You trying to weasel out of this is tiring and it’s making me need the time off even more.”

You sighed, “Fine fine,” you held up your hands, finished with your meal, “lemme know when you’re ready to go.”

He looked up, mildly shocked, “You’re already done?”

Shrugging you grinned at him, “Need the fuel to keep me energized.”

He simply sighed and began eating faster. You took the opportunity to ask Ayame for the bill. By the time you’d paid, Shikamaru had finished his own serving and was standing waiting for you. “Ready?” you asked. He nodded and the two of you began walking. You talked to Shikamaru, going on about something Ino had said recently, not really paying much attention to where you were going. This made it all the more surprising when you looked around and realized you were in the woods, surrounded by trees. “Shikamaru? Where are we?” 

He chuckled, “Took you long enough to realize.”

Your heart was pounding as you realized you must be in the Nara woods. “Hey uh, I’m not gonna get trampled and beaten up by your deer right?”

“As long as you don’t annoy me, no. You’re here with me, they won’t bother you.” You couldn’t help but glance around the trees, noticing the eyes that blended in with the scenery. You shifted closer to Shikamaru as you walked, feeling the deer watch you. You felt bad as you bumped against his arm for the fourth time, hearing him sigh. Suddenly there was a weight on your shoulder and you were pulled to the side. “There. Will you calm down now? It’s clear you’re not a threat, they just watch everyone, it’s their thing.”

You nodded in reply, but your heart rate had only sped up now that his arm was around you. Thankfully you came to a clearing of soft grass where the sun shone perfectly. You couldn’t help the soft gasp that fell from your lips as you stepped into the area.

Shikamaru chuckled beside you, “Yeah, this is my secret spot.”

You thwaked his side softly with your arm, “Shikamaru Nara. I cannot believe you never showed me this!” 

“Well then it wouldn’t have been secret now would it?” he grinned at you, but you were busy staring around the clearing.

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathed out. 

“Yeah....”

You crouched down, running your hands through the soft grass before stretching yourself out. “Well? If we’re gonna relax, let’s relax.” 

He chuckled, looking down at you, “Alright fine, but I brought you here to make sure you’d relax, so no fidgeting.” He laid down perpendicular to you, resting his head on your thighs. Feeling your heart rate spike again, you shifted and put one arm behind your head. Your foot was still bouncing softly until Shikamaru reached out and grabbed it. “Stop fidgeting,” 

You blushed, “Sorry, I didn’t realize.” He sighed in response and your hand one made its way down to his hair. You had to continue moving somehow, this was the least offensive option. Before touching his hair you made sure to ask, “You okay with this?” When he hummed in response, you began to slowly fiddle with his hair, making sure not to pull on it. It was nice, you hadn’t done this in years, but it felt natural. The sun on your skin warmed your entire body and the grass was softer than any you’d felt. There was a soft breeze that carried some kind of floral scent and the clouds were floating by serenely above. You felt more relaxed than you had in years, and as your mind drifted you felt the urge to tell Shikamaru how you felt. He had a right to know, and you had a right to make your feelings known. You knew he didn’t feel the same, and you’d made your peace with that. “Shikamaru?” 

“Mm?” he hummed quietly in response.

“You ever think about how insignificant we are in the world?”

He snorted, “Y/N what are you on?”

“I don’t quite know,” you watched the clouds drift by above, “I think I just wanna talk to you,” you wove a few strands of his hair carefully through your fingers.

“As long as I don’t have to respond,” you tugged lightly on his hair in response.

“So you don’t mind if I just talk mindlessly to you?”

“No, I don’t mind Y/N. Feel free to babble about whatever you’d like.”

You smiled at his word choice, “Okay, well I feel like I owe you the truth especially after earlier today,” He only sighed, waiting for you to continue. “What Kiba said wasn’t actually that crazy, I realized last night that....” you paused, taking a deep breath, “I have feelings for you and they aren’t friend feelings,” you rushed your next words, making sure to get them out before he could reply, “I tried to get over it, but.... I’m still into you.” You stared straight up, focusing on a misshapen cloud that was floating lazily overhead.

“Is that all?” Shikamaru’s voice sounded mildly amused.

“Yeah, just.... thought I’d tell you,” you felt more comfortable, especially since he hadn’t sat up or pulled away. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of not hiding anything.

“Well, I guess you ought to know that I feel the same.” His voice didn’t change at all and he sounded almost bored.

Your heart stopped and your eyes snapped open, but you didn’t move. “You.... do?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, okay.” you paused, unsure of what to do next. You felt Shikamaru shift and you sat up. You looked into his eyes, noticing his slight smirk as you waited for his next move.

His hand was resting on your thigh and he looked down at it before speaking, “I guess the next thing is for me to ask you out,” his thumb traced soft circles across your leg, “what a drag.”

“Well seeing as I confessed, shouldn’t I be the one to ask you out?” You raised an eyebrow, grinning at him. “So Shikamaru,” he shook his head, chuckling as you continued, “will you go out with me?”

He looked up and grinned, “I’d love to.”

Your heart swelled as you reached out and cupped his face, softly stroking his cheek. You sighed, “Maybe it’s too early, but.... I think I love you Shikamaru Nara.”

A blush covered his usually reserved features as he shifted to hide his face against your stomach, “Troublesome woman,” You laughed and tangled your fingers in his hair as you laid back again. “I think I love you too.” he murmured softly into your skin. The smile on your face wouldn’t go away as you closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of happiness that washed over you.

“So does this mean you’ll start paying for meals?”

“Not if you keep losing, our rule still stands.”

You hummed, softly running your hands through his hair. “Mm fine. When’s our next rematch then? I need to know so I can get your dad to teach me.”

His head appeared above you, his ponytail messy from your fingers, “You wanna come over tonight?”

You smiled at his eagerness, “Shikamaru, I don’t think your mom would take kindly to me bumming two meals in a row off you guys.” You reached up, caressing his face.

He leaned into your hand and smirked, “Please, you know she loves you, more than me.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Maybe it’s because I don’t lay around her house and mutter things under my breath when she asks for help.”

“You’re so rude,” He frowned, “maybe I won’t go out with you.”

You pulled his head to your shoulder, “Then I’ll just have to pester you until you do.”

“You would wouldn’t you,” he melted into you and you smiled at his weight on your body.

“Mhmm. If I have to come throw rocks at your window every night, I will.” You pressed a soft kiss on the side of his head. “If that’s what it will take, then that’s just what I’ll have to do. But it would be so very troublesome,” you threw his favorite phrase back at him to which he only huffed, “so please don’t make me.”

“Fine. But come over tonight?” He murmured into your ear, his hot breath making goosebumps run their way down your body.

You twirled the short hair at the nape of his neck as you thought about it, “Alright, I guess you’ve convinced me.”

He shifted and pressed a small kiss to your cheek. “Whoever thought I’d be the one having to force you to do things?”

“Quite a change of pace hmm?”

He rolled onto his back and pulled your body close to his, “Well then, I’ll have to make sure to beat you next time we compete so we can balance things out again.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” You nuzzled into his chest, and everything felt right. Breathing in his soft and familiar smell, you felt yourself drifting in the afternoon sun. The next thing you knew, soft kisses were being pressed against your head as you heard Shikamaru murmuring your name. Your eyelids fluttered open and you tilted your head to look up at him. A drowsy smile adorned his lips which you mirrored.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

You laughed softly, “Hi,” you felt like a schoolgirl again, shy and soft.

“How was your nap?”

“Wonderful, you make a great pillow.” You both sat up. Shifting to straddle him, you threw your arms around his shoulders. The sun was setting and it was catching on his hair just perfectly. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead to his, taking a deep breath. “I think this is the happiest I’ve been in awhile.”

“Oh really? All because of me?” His lips were tilted up in a cocky smirk.

You leaned forward slowly, lips barely brushing his and breathed out, “All because of you.” before pushing your lips against his. The way you two moved against each other was natural. You felt his hands grip your hips as you pulled away for air. A soft breeze blew past, alerting you to how flushed your face was as the cool air hit your cheeks. You leaned your head back to look up at the sky, noticing the stars beginning to shine above. “We should probably get back, seems our day off has ended.”

Shikamaru sighed, tugging you closer to him, “What a drag, how about five more minutes?”

You smiled, and tapped his nose with your finger, “C’mon lazy, let’s go.” You stood and held your hands out to him. He took them and you pulled him up, lingering there, fingers tangled together before you began pulling him back towards the village.

“That’s the wrong way, genius.” He laughed and pulled you the other way and you smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, guess you just make my head spin so much I don’t know which ways which.”

He groaned, “Please tell me that’s the only dumb line you’re gonna use.”

“Well, I got lost in your eyes, but since you know where you’re going I’ll just follow your lead.” You were grinning up at him, a shit eating grin plastered across your face. You opened your mouth, about to continue, but he cut you off quickly with a kiss.

“Dork,” he muttered, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You began walking back the way you’d come, offering up different terrible pick up lines whenever they came to you. By the time you came to the road you were sure he was questioning his earlier decision of saying yes to you, the only thing betraying otherwise was the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth. You turned towards his house, seeing the lights on, and you were struck by how much had changed in 24 hours. It felt crazy, but it also felt right. Shikamaru groaned beside you, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“You okay?”

“I just don’t wanna have to tell my parents about us, my mom’s gonna be insufferable about it.”

You stopped walking, “Well, I don’t have to come over, really it’s fine. We spent the whole day together.”

“No no,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “I want you to come over.”

“Okay well then we don’t have to tell your parents about us.”

He shifted from foot to foot, clearly thinking, “Hmm, I guess so.”

You laughed and pushed him away, “Then we’re back to platonic for tonight.”

“One more kiss? Just to tide me over.” He raised an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the request, “Hmm, I guess so.” You mocked him as he stepped closer and tilted your head up with his index finger, kissing you soft and slow.

He pulled away, dropping his hand from your chin, “Ready for another friendly dinner? Emphasis on the friend part.”

“I am, let’s go,” you both walked up to his front door and he opened it for you, the smell of mackerel wafting out the door, “You just keep winning today huh?” You glanced at him, knowing how much he loved the food, but he only grinned in response.

You walked in and were greeted by Yoshino who was visibly surprised to see you. “Oh, Y/N, Shikamaru didn’t tell me we were expecting you back again tonight!”

You blushed, embarrassed, “I’m sorry for the intrusion ma’am. I don’t have to stay for dinner, it's not a big deal!” You turned to Shikamaru ready to bid him goodbye but he didn’t look at you.

“It’s fine, I’m sure we have enough for you, right mom?”

“Yes, of course! That’s not at all what I meant!” Yoshino rushed to assure you, “I was just surprised is all. Well, Shikamaru come and help me serve the food, your dad is just getting changed out of his work clothes. Feel free to sit down, Y/N.” Shikamaru smiled at you, touching the small of your back softly before continuing through to the kitchen. You walked over to the shogi board that was still out, observing the game that was leftover from the night before, the one that had led to lunch this afternoon, where you’d seen Kiba.... had it really been this afternoon that that had happened? You still felt terrible about it, but the sound of Shikaku entering the room forced you to push your thoughts aside.

“Ah, Y/N! Back to join us?” 

You smiled and nodded, “Yes sir, also, real quick, I was wondering, do you think you could tell me why I lost this game last night?”

He grinned, “Ah, want to know what you should’ve done to beat him?”

“Yes sir.” You took a seat where Shikamaru had sat and Shikaku took your position.

“Well, it looks like when you moved your lance, you left yourself open to attack, and from there you were bound to end up in checkmate. You should have left your lance where it was,” he began explaining how you should’ve gone about capturing Shikamaru’s pieces. You tried to pay attention, you really did, but shogi was just so boring and so much had happened that your mind began wandering on its own. “And then he would’ve been stuck in checkmate and you would’ve won.” Shikaku finished his explanation looking up at you.

You looked up and nodded, “I’ll be honest I don’t know if I got all that but I think some of it stuck somewhere in my brain so thank you.”

He bobbed his head, frowning, “Well, if you’d like me to train you, you know where to find me, I’m always up to help you beat Shikamaru.” He smiled and stood, “Now, we should probably make our way to dinner before Yoshino gets angry.”

You stood and followed him through to see Shikamaru putting the plates out with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. He looked so domestic it made you smile. He glanced up at you and you felt your stomach flip as he flashed you a smirk. You sat in the same place you had the night before, and made polite conversation as you ate. The topic of your day came up and you were forced to confess how Shikamaru had forced you to go cloud watching with him.

“Oh, so he roped you into his lazy antics as well?” Yoshino glared at Shikamaru who only shrugged.

You laughed, “Yes, but I think I was in need of a day off so it wasn’t unwelcome.”

“Who isn’t, I could use a day off. How about we go cloud watching, honey?” Shikaku smiled at his wife.

“Hm, I don’t know about cloud watching, but you could stand to take some time off as well.” You admired the way they were so comfortable with each other, going back and forth. Seeing how clearly they loved each other caused you to look fondly across the table at Shikamaru.

Yoshino spoke up, “You know, I was always so sure you two would get together.”

“Mom!”

You flushed bright red and stared down at your food, trying hard to suppress your smile.

Yoshino held her hands up, “I’m only being honest.” Shikamaru groaned and took a bite of his food, his cheeks red like yours, “Some things just make sense and I always thought the two of you were one of those things.”

You laughed awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed when a bird flew in through the open window, saving you from any further conversation. Shikaku stood and retrieved the message from the bird who left the same way it had entered.

“It’s for you, Shikamaru.” He handed the small scroll to him before returning to his seat.

Shikamaru unrolled it and began reading before he sighed, “They moved up the time for the mission, we’re leaving in a few hours, what a drag.”

You all quickly finished your meal, making sure that you helped to clean up before saying goodnight. Shikamaru walked you to the front porch, closing the door behind him. He pulled you in for a hug, arms circling your waist and his head resting on your shoulder as you slowly stroked up and down his back. “Can’t believe we just got together and I have to leave for a mission, how troublesome.” He murmured into your hair.

You laughed, “Well you were fine before we were together, I’m sure you’ll be fine this time as well.” You pulled back and cupped his face, “Just, make sure you come back to me, you know?” You leaned up and kissed him, soft and slow just like he had kissed you earlier.

“Of course,” he kissed your forehead before letting you go. As you walked away, you turned and glanced back. He was leaning against the house watching you, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips and smoke curling around his head. You grinned, shaking your head before you continued on your way, happiness blooming in your chest.

[sorryimanon]

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!Reader, Izuku Midoriya x NB!Reader

Warnings: some angst, FLUFF, and our boys being the best boys.

In which they comfort you after a rough day or week

A/N: im sorry if Izukus section is shorter than Bakugou’s. trying to practice writing other characters. enjoy!

Saturday's are reserved strictly by the majority of the girls from class 1-A, leaving the guys to hibernate inside their dorms as they allow the commencement of girls night. You've never rain checked nor rejected the idea of spending  quality time with your friends, considering all the tribe's and trepidation's everyone has endured together during their time at the academy. It's nice to just strip away the stress and dip your toes in pure relaxation.

Unfortunately, you woke up with a bad case of cloudy thoughts. For the past week you've been carrying the weight of dread, causing your mood to drastically change throughout the day. You'd be having a civil conversation with someone one minute and then the next minute you're completely irritated by their presence. You've tried to balance it out and fix it overnight with the regimes you researched on the internet. A new sleeping schedule, healthier diet, yoga, and even went to the extreme of writing in a journal. It was all so cut throat and prestigious, nothing close to your liking. Katsuki made fun of you for it one day when he snuck into your room and read the many inscriptions in your journal entries.

"This stuff reminds of Deku. Always shoving his nose in that stupid notebook of his," he didn't care much to hear your refutes about Izuku. "Anyways, what's with all this depressing shit you are writing? You don't really feel this way do you?"

You didn't give him a definite answer that day. Only a curt "no" and he resumed rambling about his day like nothing happened, having you listening with his voice like white noise going in one ear and out the other.

And that's how it went on throughout the duration of the prior week before Saturday.

Inside the confinement of your dorm, you made the rational decision to sleep in instead of attending classes. The chilling thoughts kept you up all night, never once allowing sleep to take full throttle. You tossed and turned around on your bed, unable to shut off your brain. So when you woke up in the peak of late afternoon, you weren't surprised to see the unread messages on your phone. All of them were from your explosive boyfriend.

King Explosion🤍: Oi you running late? Mr.Sleepy head is taking roll call

King Explosion🤍: y/n where tf r u?

King Explosion🤍: fine don't answer me ig

King Explosion🤍: are you at least coming down for lunch? i made curry last night and imma make you finish it

King Explosion🤍: fking hurry before dunce face eats it

King Explosion🤍: nvm he ate it 😐

Katsuki never intended for the message to be funny. He's probably blowing actual steams of smoke through his nostrils and ears while chasing kamanari amongst the halls. The comical imagery made you laugh harder. At least he made you crack a smile. You haven't shown any emotions let alone a hint of enthusiasm for tonight.

Maybe it'd be best to sit this one out.

"Hey, we're missing a person! Where's my y/n?" Mina asked after scanning the group of girls huddled around on the carpeted floor.

Momo shifted uncomfortably on the cushioned pillow she stole from the couch. "Y/N said she wasn't feeling too well to join us for tonight. Something about food poisoning and throwing up every hour."

In unison all the girls gasped, along with a concerned 'ribbit' from Tsuyu.

"Well I hope she gets to feeling better. I wouldn't want her to endure such sickness for much longer," Tsuyu croaked out.

Everyone in the circle agreed and promised to pay a visit later in the night to check on you.

On the fourth floor, Katsuki stared blankly at his phone, hands shaking due to the repressed anger he's been holding. Each of the messages he sent previously were all left on read, including the one he sent an hour ago asking if he could have a cuddle session with you before girls night. Yes, even an ill tempered guy such as him enjoys sappy shit like cuddling. After pacing back and forth in his room for a solid 5 minutes, he was now dead set on confronting you in front of your friends.

Katsuki made a beeline for the elevator and aggressively pressed the 1st floor button repeatedly in hopes it'll make the process go quicker. He reached the commons area in precision time, overhearing the girls giggle after someone suggested playing truth or dare. He towered over Uraraka's figure, casting a demonic shadow version of himself in the circle. Hagakure shrieked and clung onto Jirou.

"Where's y/n you extras?" He demanded, voice deafening the brunette under him.

"She didn't come tonight. She's in her dorm room sick," Jirou explained to him as she tried pry the invisible girl off her arm.

"Like hell she's sick!" Katsuki spun around quickly and retreated back to the elevator, mumbling obscenities under his breath. "She's going to pay for being so careless and irresponsible."

The commons room fell silent once the explosive blonde disappeared behind the doors of the elevator, all eyes searching each other in complete shock. Uraraka was the first to speak out of the small group.

“Should we warn y/n that Bakugou is coming for her?”

Jirou averted her gaze to the direction bakugou left off from, a ghost of a smirk spreading on her face.

“Nah. Knowing y/n, she can handle the asshole on her own.”

King Explosion🤍: can i come over? i wanna cuddle, i miss u

The text message kept flashing behind your eyes every-time you closed them - a sad image of Katsuki waiting impatiently for you to reply back with a heart or one of those unusual memes he unapologetically adores. You knew he’d be furious, no doubt about it, but you rationalized your decision and concluded it would be best to avoid your boyfriend like the plague till this undesired feeling dissipates. Katsuki doesn’t do well with people being emotional, let alone handle his own emotions for god’s sake.

Your own thoughts were interrupted by someone raping the outside of your door. The continuous knocks made your head spin, a painful sting ghosting back and forth between your eyes. Remembering back to an hour ago, you messaged one of the girls that you weren’t going to make it to tonight’s session. Surely they respected your wishes and continued on with their hangout? But you forgot about the one person who’s persistent and stubborn like a cat.

“I know you’re in there y/n! You may have fooled your idiotic friends with a lie, but you keep on forgetting you’re terrible at lying!” Katsuki hollers against the wood of the door, not once being considerate of those living above her.

He’s right. You’re absolutely horrible at making up excuses for yourself. Dating someone as intuitive as him will be the death of you.

“If there’s something going can you at least let me in? You can’t ignore me forever y/n.”

Again, he’s right.

You slipped out from the comfort of your bed and padded towards the door, mentally preparing for the blonde to scold you once he enters your room. What you weren’t prepared for was the tears swelling up in the ducts of his vermillion eyes - his hands clenched tightly into fists as he looked down at you. Your breathing hitched when his arm outstretched to rest on the door frame to keep his trembling body steady.

“What the hell y/n? Why the fuck have you been ignoring me?! Did I do something wrong?!” He asked, not caring about his current appearance.

You grab ahold of his other arm and absentmindedly started rubbing it affectionately, trying to coax him into calming down. ��Katsuki no! You didn’t do anything wrong! Why would you think that?”

“Because dumbass, you’ve been distant this past week,” he paused, choking on his words. “Are...are you breaking up with me?”

Your eyes shot up instantly at his horrifying assumption. “Katsuki, if I tell you the truth, will you promise not to make things worse for me?”

He tilted his head in confusion, but nodded once you led him into your messy bedroom. Once inside, your boyfriend plopped down on your bed, watching intently as you anxiously bit down on your nails - a nervous habit you picked up at the beginning of the school year.

“I’ve been feeling weird lately. Ever since the beginning of last week. I don’t know how to describe it but, my brain is constantly feeding into my already negative state. Telling me things I know aren’t true but I’ve convinced myself they are. Almost as if a grey cloud is hovering above me,” tears were already starting to pour down your cheeks. “I just...I just feel so miserable and lonely and useless and irritated and- I’m so sorry for ignoring you. You probably want nothing to do with me after this!”

You manage to turn away from the sight of the blonde during your speech, ashamed of pouring out your emotions onto a person who disregards other peoples emotions and constitutes them as a quote on quote “pussy”.

From behind, you can hear faint shuffling nearing your already shaken up figure. A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a wall that could only be described as his own chiseled chest, doing the same as you did moments ago with his arm - lulling you to calm down a notch before he stared speaking.

“If you been feeling this way, why lie when I asked you a few days ago after reading your journal?”

“I know how you are, Katsuki. You get very uncomfortable when people talk about their feelings. So, why should I be any different?”

Your boyfriend suddenly maneuvers you around in the circle of his arms, shifting to where you’re now making direct eye contact with him. His gaze intense and unwavering.

“Because you’re my girlfriend? I don’t give a rats ass about any of these extras. When it comes to you, I’d make an exception for. I made that promise to myself when we first started seeing each other. So don’t think for a second that I’ll disregard your true feelings, dumbass.” He stepped a couple of inches backwards, ankles eventually hitting the bottom of your bed - making him fall and dragging you along with him. You landed on top of him, head still buried in the depths of his hard chest. The vibrations of his chuckle shook your whole body. Katsuki gently titled your head to be leveled with his, a red tint of blush painting his pallid cheeks.

“I’m being serious though. Don’t be afraid to come to me when things get tough, okay? I love you too much to see you like this.”

Next thing you knew your boyfriend stole your breath away by meshing his plump lips onto yours, hands snaking their way into your hair and carefully massaging it. By all means, you let him have his way with you by kissing the sadness away, tears puddling together cheek on cheek.

He let go eventually, pecking a quick chaste kiss on the side of your mouth before hauling you further into the bed. You settled on letting him spoon you, knowing how much he likes the feeling of your backside pressed against him, and the fruity aroma of your hair infiltrating his senses.

“I promise Katsuki,” you said after some time during the cuddle session.

He shifted in his spot, head placed firmly in the crook of your neck. “Promise what?”

“That I’ll come to you when these thoughts return again. I should trust you by now, and I need to not let these emotions ruin everything in my life. I love you that much.

Your confession swelled the very last evidence of Katsuki being a human being, his heart.

He smiled weakly to himself and nuzzled more into your shoulder, brushing his warm lips against the tender skin. “You better, dumbass.”

-

Today was just so exhausting, and the big fat 'D-‘ written in red ink on your final report was the icing on the cake. To make things even worse, Aizawa reminded the whole class before the exam that this was to determine wether or not if you'll be joining the training camp that'll commence the following winter break.

Hopefully this was one of your teacher's terrible deception tactics into making everyone do their absolute best, go plus ultra even. But to your dismay, he was indeed very serious of the matter this time.

It wasn't your fault, not entirely. You stayed up all night listening to another one of your boyfriends rambles, the conversation lasting till 2 am. Izuku grew worrisome and anxious ever since his encounter with a gruesome villain, thus resulting in him to pour his emotions out onto you. Poor baby kept mentioning the safety of All Might and you.

Solemnly, you left class and trailed back to your dorm room, wanting to ignore the jovial atmosphere inside the cramped room as everyone traded and talked about their scores.

Izuku noticed you leaving abruptly and got up from his desk to follow you behind, bidding a quick goodbye to his friends.

Your room was dark and dramatically colder than usual, a trickle of light threatening to pour in from the cascading sunset. You laid down on your stomach with one of your pillows propped on your head, in hopes to shield away anyone from seeing your ugly-crying face.

Too late because Izuku was already standing outside your dorm room, swaying back and forth on his feet while biting down harshly on his lip. He can hear your soft cries seeping through the door. He doesn't know why he's hesitating, he's your boyfriend after all.

Moments later you hear the acute sounds of someone knocking on your door, followed by the soft spoken voice of your green haired boyfriend.

"Baby? Can I come in? I-If that's okay with you I m-mean! It's alright if you need some space but you left class so early I figured something happened to you and I got really worried because you always wait for Iida and uraraka to walk us back to the dorms as a group and maybe it had something to do with what I was telling you last night-."

You crack the door just a smidge before fully opening it, revealing your bloodshot eyes and tear stained shirt to him. His breathing hitched once his eyes fixated on your disheveled state. 

"Can you comfort me? I need you right now Izuku," your voice cracked a little, throat still tight after the crying session.

His strong, lean arms wrapped around your body momentarily, encasing you into a bear hug. Hugs from Izuku were amazing, no exceptions. He placed a quick peck on the crown of your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get inside and snuggle. How does that sound?" he asked as he unwrapped himself and took your trembling hand, leading you back inside the dimly lit room.

Izuku laid you gently down on your side once reaching the bed, crawling alongside with you before  draping the covers over the both of you. His familiar hands snake around your waist and nudges you to roll over. You obliged and shifted your body to face his, sparkly green eyes staring straight at you.

"Tell me, what's wrong baby? Does it have to do with the recent exam?" his thumb started tracing delicate lines on your hips, your uniform long gone and now replaced with comfortable clothes instead.

"I failed Izuku...I did so terrible on the written exam. I kept falling in and out of sleep during the test that I didn't have time to finish the middle portion of it," you exhaled a shaky breath. "Who knows what'll happen on the practical. I'll probably fail that too...I'm such a failure compared to everyone."

Izuku grabbed the tender flesh of your cheeks and directed your vision to level with his. He looked angry and concerned.

"Don't say that y/n! You're not a failure! That exam doesn't determine wether or not if you're good enough to be a hero. I've seen you in action hun, and I know for a fact that you're possibly the most strongest person I've met in my lifetime! You're ambitious, smart, determined, and so freaking beautiful." He then kissed you tenderly on the lips, his eyes closing slightly due to the contact.

"So...freaking...beautiful." He whispers against your mouth.

His sentimental words were enough for you to push back the negativity and simply enjoy the intimate moment.

Izuku lifted his head away from your face to rest it against your temple. "You're going to do great things, okay? One failing grade isn't going to be the end of the world. Trust me sweetheart, I've had my fair share in failures during our time here in Yuuei. But look at me now, still standing."

You nuzzled more into his chest, tickling his chin with your hair. Faintly, you can hear the pitter patter of his heart beat bursting through his rib cage.

"Would you love me even if I was a horrendous looking-failure?" you were clearly teasing him, but sometimes Izuku became dense when it came to that.

"Y/n! W-Why would you ask that! Of course I would you dummy! I'd love you no matter what."

This time you return the favor and kiss him, knowing how to easily fluster him in seconds. He whimpers into your mouth at the sudden contact and cups your jawline affectionately.

The two of you stayed like that till the moon shone through the balcony curtains, illuminating your skin in a dusty glow.

Lips bruised and swollen red, you laid lifelessly in his arms, letting him wove his scarred fingers through your hair. Izuku would occasionally stop to peck your lips, then resumes his attention back to your hair.

"I'm sorry by the way. I shouldn't have kept you up last night before the exam. I'm such a horrible boyfriend..." he admitted suddenly.

"Yes. Yes you are."

He gasped and stopped his movements altogether, obviously taken aback by your blunt words.

You giggled and said, "Kidding. You're the best boyfriend. Apology accepted.”

After hearing that, Izuku shoved himself onto your chest and let out muffled cry. "D-Don't scare me like that. Almost made me have a heart a-attack!"

[jarofstyles]

Dirty Business II - Espresso

A/N: We’re back with more!! We had lots of fun writing their dynamic, they’re probably one of our favorites. Never a dull moment with them, so buckle up! 

send feedback and requests here

If you like this check out our Patreon!

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut, cheating, daddy kink

word count: 13k

Harry knew Y/N knew she was wearing down on him. Caroline has come in once more and Y/N has brought him his coffee and scone, it hadn’t been pretty. Y/N, to her credit, just gave a smile and said she knew what he liked and walked away. Caroline didn’t appreciate that and again accused him of doing shit with her. He told her she didn’t have to worry. He did feel a bit of guilt for kissing Y/N, but at the end of the day? It was going to happen and he knew he was going to. It wasn’t an excuse.... except, maybe it was. He thought about that damn kiss over and over again. It was heavenly. He wished for it again, wanted to taste her mouth and even further— but couldn't. 

Since then, she has been bothering him to break up with Caroline. Something he was going to do but... maybe after Paris. She was right. He needed someone to take care of Oliver if Niall couldn’t. When he went back to his office, Y/N followed. Standing behind his desk, his arms crossed and he looked at her with a raised brow. 

“Is this your doing?”

“What? You think I’d orchestrate this? You flatter me.” Y/N chuckled, walking over to stand in front of his desk. “Believe it or not, it was my father’s idea. Even down to me coming along. I have to give it to him. Said he didn’t trust anyone else with the job.” It was all true. Harry was going to be the next face of the company, he wanted new investors to trust that this company had a long and bright future. Y/N coming along was really for the show aspect, he knew his daughter was beautiful and would help schmooze anyone who wasn’t completely onboard if Harry didn’t already succeed. The two of them would turn up their charm and do the job well. “But yes, make sure you send that information over tonight.... I’ll text you a list of what to pack for the events, I’ll cover the suits and shirts, don’t worry.” Y/N smiled, already excited at seeing him in some nice higher quality pieces. He needed to look the part. Not that he didn’t already, but she wanted to pamper him.

“Jesus... okay. Fine.” He sighed, rubbing between his brows. God damn it. How was he going to survive this type of thing? When she would be in such close quarters that it would be impossible to escape? He was fucked. “Y/N, no funny business. Okay?” He opened his eyes to look at her. She looked like she was scheming. “I mean it, Y/N. Nothing is going to happen. We will be friendly, but nothing like what you’ve got running around in that mind.” He was trying to be serious but, he knew internally this may be his downfall. “Don’t look at me like that. I mean it.” She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t fair that she had such an influence over his body and his heart. It sucked because he had grown to actually like her. When she wasn’t having the bratty rich girl persona on, she was lovely to talk to.

Y/N raised her brows at him, he really thought that his statements were going to work this time. That this time she’d listen and really hold back, keep things professional when she didn’t have to. 

“You mean it huh?” She asked and moved from her place to walk so she was standing behind the desk with him. “If that’s what you have to do... what you have to say so that you feel guilt free, then fine.” Y/N spoke, using her hands to smooth over the lapels of his blazer. “Just going to go to Paris, take care of business and have fun. What’s so wrong about that? Loosen up.” She mumbled, leaning forward to press a few kisses down his jaw. When he let out a frustrated groan she pulled away, “You’re only making things harder for yourself by denying me, Harry, you know I’m never going to give up right?” Y/N looked up at him with mischievous eyes. “But you keep telling me what you need to feel better... it’s okay, but you don’t have to make it this hard for yourself.” She just wanted to kiss him again, so she was tired but of course was denied.

He placed his finger on her lips. The kisses on the jaw were enough to fuck with him. He hadn’t fucked Caroline for weeks now, the last time being after he kissed Y/N. He had to think about her to get hard, went especially hard because he was so frustrated and wished he was buried in her instead. Since then, he felt gross and stuck with his hand. It’s been a few weeks now and it was definitely hard. The finger thing backfired though, Y/N’s eyes lighting up and her hand grabbing his wrist, finger being sucked into her mouth. And it was hot. So fucking hot. Feeling her slick tongue run over and the suction of her mouth, he felt stuck.

Y/N smirked for herself, keeping eye contact as her mouth sucked at his finger. He really shouldn’t have done that, but he did. Harry had let her show him just how badly she’d wanted him yet again. She pulled off his finger and licked up the base of it before pulling him back into her mouth for a few more moments. She wanted to drive him crazy. Once he seemed to pull away she pouted, licking over her lips and giving him a small shy smile. 

“I want you.” She whispered quietly, “so bad..” The girl was whining, desperate for him but she’d never beg. She wasn’t one to beg, no, he’d have to give in. Y/N wasn’t going to leave until he told her to, which she assumed would be now. She’d just occupy the rest of her time planning their Parisian itinerary, packing, getting ready for their big trip. They had about three days till they left, three days for him to get his shit together and accept that he couldn’t deny her during this trip, absolutely not.

He cleared his throat, pulling his fingers away from her. Why had he let her do that? A bit of misstep. He wasn’t confident in this trip. She scared him. Y/N was dangerous for him and yet, he continued to allow her to get her way. 

“Christ.... just— go make some reservations to whatever you want to do in Paris. I’ve never been there, so I don’t mind doing whatever.” He muttered, walking towards the window to look out over the city. He knew in his deep gut that Y/N was wearing him down thin. She worked so hard and even told him she wasn’t giving up. So why did he want to fight so hard again? Oh right. His job. If she was this determined to get him... what would she do if he pissed her off? He was nervous over that and while he knew internally she wouldn’t ruin his life like that, the possibility still lingered.

“Have a good night, Harry. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hummed, making her way out of his office and back to grab her things in her father’s before heading out for the day. She would get cozy at home, book everything she needed to before their trip and relax with a bottle of wine. She was very excited. 

The next three days, Y/N has spent booking things. Their itinerary was set, booked in tables for restaurants, booked private tours for all the major attractions, and made some time in the schedule for them to explore all her favorite little corners of the city. Even the night life. She was so excited, mostly because she was going to spend time with Harry, but also that she would be alone in one of her favorite cities with Harry. She spent the last day getting her hair, nails, facial, and waxing done. Regular maintenance before any trip. She wanted to feel perfect to her standard. Y/N had sent over someone to tailor the suits she’d ordered for him in the office during the week, which were then delivered to his house with matching shirts and ties. Everything was packed and ready to go, the only thing left was to get on the plane.

It was a private plane. Y/N’s father owned a few but this one was apparently one of the best. He had arrived before Y/N, kind of shell shocked at just how his life was turning out. Never had he thought he’d be on a private plane to Paris. 

Harry decided that since it was a business trip that he should wear one of the suits Y/N picked out for him. He had taken off the jacket and hung up before he opened up his laptop. There was still work he wanted to do and he knew that Y/N would be distracting him. When she did arrive, he wasn’t surprised to see her looking as gorgeous as ever. She always did. He wanted to see her with no makeup though. Hair normal. No fancy outfits. Just... relaxed. That would be rather nice. She made a beeline for him, giving an actually rather nice hug. 

“Good evening.” He said, a bit surprised at her behavior. He thought perhaps she would sit in the chair across from him, but she lifted his laptop and let herself into the seat next to him.

There was no shame anymore. None. She was doing what her father said and taking what she wanted.

“Good evening.” Y/N smiled happily at him, “Are you excited?” She asked having her entire rich girl persona leave her in these moments. She didn’t have to act for anyone here, didn’t have to impress anyone here, that’s the only reason she even put on the act anyway. To impress people. Here, it was just her and Harry on a plane to France. Y/N had known the crew for years and she had befriended them all. Maybe Harry would be surprised, seeing her treat them as if they were friends rather than employees. Now that she had gotten time alone with him, she felt free to do and say as she pleased. Their only requirement on this trip was to go to these events and meetings but other than that? Absolutely nothing. Y/N would be getting to spend way more time with him that she’d had in the three weeks that she’s known him and that made her very excited. She could show him that she could be fun, that she was actually very laid back and affectionate. She was hoping he’d really get to know her. She buckled up in her seat, looking over at him to see him working on his laptop. Y/N would let him do his work, knowing at some point he’d get bored and have to talk to her. She was doing the same on her phone, sending emails and texts to whoever she needed.

He was pleasantly surprised. Normally when they were out in public, she had a certain tone to her voice. She had this... rich and squeaky voice, but alone, and apparently here, she was normal and sweet. It was odd to be around her like this, but it was nice. Again, it made it harder for him to keep her away. His heart turned to mush with her sweet behavior. She was relaxed and he could tell she liked being next to him. He knew that he had been a bit harsher with her lately but the girl didn’t give it a rest. He could feel her eyes on him after he heard her lock her phone. It lasted 5 minutes before he sighed, looking at her. 

“Have I got something’ on my face?” He asked. It was more a tease because she had been staring for a bit and didn’t have any shame in being caught. Y/N smiled at his comment, leaning in to kiss his cheek. 

“Mm, now you do.” She hummed, letting her hand move to gently rub off the lip stick she’d transferred on to his face. She was so fond of him, couldn’t stop herself from staring and talking to him. He just proved to be the most attractive man she’s ever met and she stood by that. From his voice, to the way he walked, to his stare. He was powerful and smart and everyone in the room knew it when he walked in. He is and will be extremely successful in the business and Y/N knew that all too well. She wanted him for herself because he deserved a wife like her, who was going to devote her time to worshiping him. Not some girl who would rely on him financially. She looked over at one of the flight attendants as she told Harry to put his laptop away for take off, offering the two something to drink at their request. 

“Wine?” Y/N raised her brow at him, “I stopped by the bakery on the way here too, got your favorite.”

His face softened. She always went out of her way to give him things. She learned things and didn’t forget. Y/N was sweet and he was so conflicted because it was so hard to keep his resolve when she showed how genuinely sweet the girl could be. 

“Wow... thanks. I’m good on the wine but, you didn’t have to.” She really didn’t have to but the fact she did made him happy. It meant a lot to him. He squeezed her hand as a thanks. Y/N seemed to appreciate that. “How did you even remember what my favorite things are? I didn’t even mention half of them more than once or even at all and you just get them for me?” He knew she must have been really observant, or a hacker.

“You’re very welcome.” She hummed, telling the flight attendant to make some coffee instead, looking back at Harry when he squeezed her hand. As a form of comfort, she began rubbing her thumb over his hand while the plane began to take off. “Dunno just... when you like someone, you just remember things.” Y/N shrugged, knowing she’s always been that way. “At least... I make an effort too, I don’t know.” She hoped that he didn’t find it weird, mostly because she herself wanted to be treated that way. She wished someone loved her the way she loved people. Once they were in the air the flight attendant brought their coffees, croissants and scones. 

“Help yourselves too! I definitely won’t be able to finish them all.” Y/N smiled back to them, watching as Harry went to reach for one of the scones. She was pleased knowing she’d done a good job.

“That was really kind of you.” He murmured when she sat back down next to him. “I haven’t been in this type of business world too long but I know a lot of people don’t do that stuff so you probably made their whole day.” He was impressed. It just made it more difficult to ignore her charm and allure. It was going to be hard this trip. Half of him was ready to give up now. Let her kiss him and have a romantic time in Paris. Y/N would be a good lover, he thinks. She was thoughtful and sweet and she could fucking kiss. He sat and watched her interact with the staff, her eyes always coming back to him. He was trying to be less obvious that he was looking at her but it was difficult not to. She was airy and bright like this. Much better than how she acted at the office or in the city. Was this the real her?

“I’ve known them a long time, they’re practically family to.” Y/N spoke, looking between him and the staff. Was it shocking to him that she could treat people well? Of course her father was ruthless, but she? She had a heart. It was a huge reason she would never really get into the business. That didn’t mean she could be ruthless because lord knows she could be. She had noticed Harry looking at her, giving him a smile whenever she did catch him. Of course she had been looking at him too, she really liked him. God, did she like him. Y/N has spent hours researching things he talked about, things he liked, just hoping she could get to know a little bit more of his mind. She just wanted him for herself, wanted that devotion. 

Y/N did eventually feel herself falling asleep, getting tired while listening to him type away at his computer. She didn’t really say much, simply rested her head on his shoulder and nuzzled against him. She’d been dreaming about doing this for weeks now and it was truly meeting up to her every expectation.

Harry told himself it would be a dick to move her. Realistically, he felt good when she decided to nuzzle against him. The fact she felt safe, even when he had been so distant and kind of cold to her, she didn’t stop. He wondered if this is how it would be if they were in a relationship. Would this be the side he sees? Sleepy Y/N with soft lips, resting against his body? The trust she had in him already to keep her safe was so astonishing He stared at her while she slept. When slight turbulence hit, he gently comforted her back to sleep when she whined. He already thought about her all the time. He wanted to know more of her likes but he had tried so hard to block it out. Maybe it would be fun, this trip.

They landed in Paris rather quickly, Y/N being thrilled at that. She thanked the crew for their work and told them to enjoy their week in France, making her way off of the plane down to the car that was there to meet them. Y/N could tell that Harry wasn’t used to this luxurious way of living but she was hoping he’d get more comfortable with it when being around her. 

“I think you’re going to love it here.” Y/N smiled, “the hotel is lovely as well. I’m so excited!” She giggled, taking hold of his hand again just because she wanted to be touching him. The drive into the city didn’t take too long, Y/N making herself familiar with the surroundings once again. The Ritz Carleton was marvelous, absolutely stunning. The decor on the inside made it look straight out of a royal palace and it’s why Y/N loved staying there so much. She liked feeling like a princess. Of course, her father had booked them a suite, to bed one bath. The room with the perfect view of the Eiffel Tower and a terrace.

Harry felt like he was In some kind of storybook. There was no way this was real... right? He was in awe. Stepping into the hotel, he also felt severely out of place. Sure, Y/N has bought him designer shit but inside? He still wore primary tee shirts at home. 

“Well... shit.” He muttered, the doorman bringing their bags to each room. He told them to give Y/N the master bedroom and he would take the smaller of them both. It wasn’t like it mattered. They were both huge. “This place is like... one of those fake storybook places. I never knew hotels like this existed.” He muttered. On the kitchenette table— was 3 gift baskets, with fruit, one with wine and cheese, and the other with luxury soaps. He was indeed shocked at how much they went out of their way to spoil guests. How much was this place a night?

“Yeah? It’s part of the reason why I love coming here so much... it’s.. magical.” Y/N smiled, quickly going to take his hand and bring him to the terrace so he could see the view. She giggled a bit at his amusement. “That’s how you know you’re in Paris.” She cooed, “I’ll give you a moment... I’m going to go change.” With that, she was off to her bedroom, quickly taking her suitcase and unpacking everything into the closet as she usually did for a trip like this. She pulled out her pajamas, just a T—shirt and some cotton panties, and her toiletries, heading off to the bathroom to get all comfy cozy. Of course, she was a little nervous, seeing as Harry had never seen her not dolled up. She was confident in how she looked, but just a bit more shy about it. After an extensive skin care routine, Y/N had walked back into her room and put her clothes away, grabbed her phone and walked out into the living room area. “You hungry? room service here is delicious... and you didn’t eat lunch so we are pigging out.” She told him and finally looked up from her phone to find where in the room he was.

Harry has changed too, considering It was definitely too tiring to go out. He had put on sweatpants and a tee shirt that said ‘eat your honey’ with a little bee on it. His reading glasses to the side, he sat in the living area. Looking out, you could see lots of things. The buildings, the tower, the fireplace and TV. It was unreal. He had sent photos to his mum and sister as well as niall, which had all three of them freaking out over how incredible it was. He wasn’t expecting Y/N to come out with a fresh face though. He thinks that may be the moment he was fucked. Seeing her natural, bare, dressed down? His heart did a little thing. She was beautiful. Like— really fucking beautiful. Without makeup, without it all, she was stunning even more. He thought she looked good most of the time but now especially, he was in a bit of shock. How? He truly couldn’t get over it. 

“Uh... yeah? That's fine with me.” He blinked a few times and waited for her to come over with the menu. She sat close, heat from her body leaking into his as she leaned against him. First sign of weakness was that he didn’t read just— just felt her. He wasn’t sure she had shorts on underneath the large shirt. He didn’t want to know, actually.

Naturally, Y/N blushed when she noticed the look at Harry’s face. She didn’t want to know what he was thinking, surely he wouldn’t say anything if he thought she looked bad. Lord knows her exes had told her man times that she looked ill without makeup on. It was then that she started wearing makeup everyday. She wanted to feel close to Harry, happy that he didn’t shift when she leaned into him this time. 

“What are you in the mood for? If you want, we can get two mains to split and a few appetizers?” She explained, knowing this menu by heart. French cooking at it’s finest? She couldn’t wait to dig in. They had decided on what they wanted and Y/N went to order, in French of course. She ordered their dishes and a few bottles of wine, as well as some dessert. Harry would be eating like a king tonight, she would make sure of it. “Alright, should be here in about 25 minutes.” Y/N came to sit next to him, again moving so she was real close. She liked seeing him all dressed down, he looked very comfortable and it made her feel really domestic despite being in a place like this. “How are you feeling?”

He was rather enthused by watching her. She was interesting and he was kind of seeing her in a new light. She was polite to workers and kind to strangers, even with her prissy voice on. It seemed that out of New York, she felt happy. At home more around him than when they were actually at home. 

“I’m okay. Probably gonna be a bit jet lagged but I’m excited to be here. S’beautiful.” And so was she. He couldn’t stop thinking and this was bad for him. He needed to relax. Calm himself down. Realize that it’s okay, it’s just Y/N and he shouldn’t... however that part of his brain was being squished little by little. “How about you? You seem excited.” She did. She was happy and he was wondering if part of it had to do with him being there with her. Or if maybe Paris is just her favorite place. He liked it quite a bit already. Y/N moved to push a few hairs away from his eyes, giving him a soft sweet smile. 

“Good...” She cooed, nodding her head. “Yeah, I’m... I’m really excited.” She didn’t want to be too obvious about it but he had read her quite well. It was clear that she thrived when she was on her own, when the expectations of her family weren’t on her. She was a powerful woman, everyone knew that, but she was sweet. She meant well. “Guess I just.. I like being away from everyone.” Y/N explained, “my parents and all the people I know in New York.” She wasn’t sure if it would make sense to him but she’d try her best to paint the picture for him. “Can be my own person here, don’t have to think about what I’m doing or breathing even... but it’s also nice just being here with you..” Y/N admitted, chuckling at the look on his face. “What? Are you really that surprised?” She really wasn’t sure how he didn’t get it yet. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you for you to believe me.” Y/N let her hand find its place in the curls on the back of his neck. “‘m not going to beg for you Harry, I don’t beg.” She told him, “people only ever get one chance with me... but you just... I actually like you, and you’re the one thing I can’t have.”

“Why?” He had to ask. It didn’t make much sense at all that she was so into him out of all people. Granted, he was flattered. Of course he was. But he just didn’t get it. “Why do you want me so badly? I just don’t understand the interest. You’re of a higher class, you’re beautiful, you’re educated. I went on a scholarship to Oxford, I wear primark— your worlds h&m or whatever, I eat McDonald’s and take away all the time and I live in a small apartment.” He furrowed his brow. “Why am I such a want for you? I don’t understand. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pass any judgement in to you or anything but it’s just... hard to wrap my head around the fact that you’re so set on having me when there’s so many other men that could give you a much more comfortable life.”

It broke her heart to hear him talk like that. Not only did he think that she wouldn’t want him because of their different classes, but because he thought he couldn’t offer her the life that she wanted. As if he’d know that a comfortable life came with its own set of struggles, ones that people didn’t see as justifiable. Everyone thinks money can buy happiness. 

“Harry, I’d give up my whole life just to be happy and cared about.” She said softly, again seeing the look of confusion on his face. “Look, I get it. I’m this spoiled bratty little girl who has never had to work a day in her life. Yes I have everything I could ever want, could ever need— except for the one thing that money could never buy.” She looked away from him and began toying with the hem of her shirt. Y/N hated showing weakness but if it meant that he could understand where she was coming from she’d do anything. Including showing her hand a bit. “And I see someone like you.. someone who has ambition, who is stable and who shows so much potential both in his career and everywhere else. Someone who’s kind and someone who... who doesn’t particularly care who I am or what I have or what I can offer.... someone who is a genuinely good guy, not some hot shot who thinks because he can buy me an island I now bow down to him.” Y/N finally looked up at him. “Just want to know what it’s like to actually have someone care about you..”

“I’m.... i’m sorry.” He said after a few moments of silence. “That I assumed things of you, of what you want. That wasn’t fair of me.” He did feel guilty. What he saw was a girl who just wanted someone to care about her. Actually. Someone who would give her attention that wasn’t for money. The same way she must have been showing her affection with the gifts and things. He felt badly now for acting annoyed. “I really understand that. I can’t imagine how it is to grow up in that sort of environment. I’m lucky because my family was and is still close but... I do care about you, Y/N. More than I should. I’m sorry that I’ve been so hard on you.” He gently took her small hand and squeezed it. “I loved all your gifts. They aren’t necessary, but you put a lot of thought into them and every one, I’ve used. I have the tee shirt in my bag, that you got me. I don't want you to think that I didn’t like them.” He felt terribly guilty now that he could see some truth. At first he thought maybe she wanted him because he was new and interesting but she hadn’t lost interest.

“It’s okay... I sort of expected it, but I’m glad you let me explain.” Y/N offered a small smile as he squeezed her hand. “Cause I know I can be that girl... and I am to some extent, but at the end of the day that isn’t who I want to be and I want you to know that.” She wouldn’t be that bitchy girl her whole life, especially if she was dating Harry. Sure, she’d be that way around work and around places she knew people would be, but around him? Around his family and friends? She’d be the real her. “You did?” Her eyes lit up at the idea of it. She was really glad he had enjoyed her gifts, the records, the shirts, the candles, all of it. Y/N felt her stomach get all fuzzy, “I’m really glad you like them... I really just got stuff that made me think of you. There’s a bunch of stuff I’d like to get you, those suits being some of them.” She smiled brightly, “you looked really nice today by the way...” Y/N was really just a soft girl. Once she was comfortable and someone they really got to know her, she just wanted to love and be loved. She could go on for hours just listening to him talk about his life and his cat and all that good stuff. She just wanted a friend that was genuine, luckily Harry happened to be extremely attractive as well.

“I figured you’d pick out good ones. You have a good boutique so, I do trust you in fashion.” He smiled lightly. Y/N has gotten a good amount of things for him to wear here and he was just letting her dress him because in all honesty, he didn’t know the best thing to wear with what. Suits were easy but she hadn’t only gotten him suits. Shirts and pants and all that. “It must be hard to get up every day and put on and put together an outfit and match your makeup and all that. M’lucky with a suit. It’s easy to put on, but you manage to always look put together. It must be a bit exhausting.” Not that it wasn’t worth it but he was hoping to see more of the light makeup. None. “I like the no makeup thing. You’ve got long eyelashes though. My sister got extensions on them and she loves them— did you get those?” He was trying to show his interest because he still did feel badly. He had equal interest but had been hiding it every day and Y/N was being honest and open.

“Thank you... but no, it’s actually really fun.” Y/N felt herself smile at the thought of it actually. “The whole process of getting ready, from picking out the outfit to doing the makeup. It’s really fun. When I have nowhere to go on the weekends, I’ll stay in just like this and lounge all day.” She admitted, raising her brow as he went on to tell her about how he liked her with no makeup on. That was something she never thought she’d hear. Here she was sitting there all nervous because she would think he’d think of her differently now that he could see every freckle and dark circle on her face. Her face must have been beet red. “Don’t have to lie...” She chuckled, “But thank you... I didn’t really like the extensions cause I rub my eyes too much when I don’t wear makeup and they’d always fall off.” She explained, “I either like how I look with lots of makeup or with none at all... it's an internal thing.... but I’ve had too many exes tell me they think I look sick without makeup on, so it just always in the back of my head.” Y/N really had been through it in the past. She wasn’t one to wear it on her sleeve but she’d been cheated on and abused and manipulated so many times. It definitely had lasting effects on her. “I really do appreciate your compliments... I do. It’s hard for me to accept them but it means a lot to me.”

“The hell? They’re full of shit. I can admit I’ve seen some people who look like they could use some of that face stuff but you? No way in hell.” He scoffed. Exes. He wondered about those. What type of man did she date before? He was curious to know what happened in those relationships and why she thought he was lying about what he was saying. He wasn’t. “M’not lying. Your exes are pieces of shit if they genuinely told you that, and awful liars. You’re welcome though.” He shrugged. The food got there quickly after he said that, and was wheeled into the table area. He stood up and was astounded at just how much food there was. “This all looks really damn good.” He muttered to her. “Are those macrons?” 

----

It was safe to say Y/N had a lot of thinking to do in bed today. She’d opened up a lot more than she had expected to Harry and now he knew a lot, enough to understand her more than he did and now things were noticeably different. Sure, he was still a little hesitant, but he seemed a lot more open to her kind gestures and her remarks, of course her kisses were still denied. Harry really was as calm and charming as she thought he was. He opened up a little bit more about the things they liked and they bonded over music. They both shared a love for Fleetwood Mac, the zombies, and other oldies that she felt many guys liked just to say they liked it. They had a similar sense of humor as well which helped, but of course it sucked because he technically still had a girlfriend. She wasn’t sure if he was going to break up with her or not, but surely their chemistry was undeniable. Y/N wouldn’t rest until he was hers, she didn’t care what he said, she’d have him by the end of this trip if not earlier. 

When she woke up in the morning, she went to the bathroom to freshen up, slipping on a robe for warmth and smiling when she noticed Harry sitting outside on the terrace with breakfast. It seemed like something out of a romance movie. 

“Bonjour..”

“Bonjour.” He greeted back. He wanted her to walk over and straddle his lap. Give him kisses and open up the robe so he could see underneath and touch and kiss on it. Maybe even slip out of his pants and have her sitting on him, make love to her on the balcony. He snapped out of it as her chair made a noise and she sat down. 

“I remembered your eggs Benedict and the mimosa. I also got the stuffed strawberry toast because you like strawberries a lot.” He cleared his throat. He was going to return the thoughtfulness she had shown him. She was so lovely and thought of things that would make him smile and now he was going to do the same and make her feel cared for. Even if it wasn’t necessarily romantically. His little mind dream before had been a clue though. He needed to break up with Caroline for real. He shouldn’t have daydreams of another woman on him, let alone the term making love come to his mind.

Y/N smiled brightly as she took a seat, admiring all the food before her. He really did this for her? Did he really go out of his way to make sure he ordered things she liked because he wanted to make it up to her? Y/N could jump him right now if he’d let her. 

“Harry... thank you.” She felt really warm inside. “This is really sweet.” Y/N got all blushy again and went to dig into her meal. “Did you get some sleep?” She hoped that the jet lag wasn’t too bad for him. Y/N was used to traveling so her body clock was all over the place. She slept when she was tired. “We have the day off so... we can get dressed and go out in the city and explore. I can take you to some of my favorite places.” 

It was a Sunday morning in Paris, the two could do absolutely anything they’d wanted. She decided they’d go for a walk down Champs Élysées, see the arch de triumph and end the night around the Eiffel Tower. They could take their time getting ready and going out, they didn’t have a schedule today so they were free to do as they pleased.

“Yeah, I did actually. I think the plane tired me out enough.” He had slept a good 4, 5 hours so he felt good enough. He woke up earlier than normal however he didn’t mind. He talked to his mum and ordered them a good breakfast. “We can do that, yeah. I’ve never been so, it’s a bit exciting.” He wasn’t nervous, oddly enough. It would be the both of them alone in a city but he was more excited. Y/N would know the good spots to hang around and that was exciting to him. Especially because she was truly excited to show him around. “Where were you thinking of going?” He questioned. He was hoping for a few shops so he could get his mother and sister something. Gemma had been to Paris once on a school trip but his mother had never. He was the first in his family to make decent money.

“Mm, well, I was thinking we could go walk in the area towards Champs Élysées... do some shopping? Get some food... just some exploring really. I’m saving all the actual touristy bits for later in the week. I’m sure the louvre is packed right now.” Y/N was glad to hear he got some rest, he looked really good. He sounded even better. She liked how deep his voice was usually, but it was particularly deep in the morning. She had no doubt that Harry would fall in love with Paris. All the little shops and boutiques, all the cute places to get coffee and sandwiches. She truly was over the moon about being here with him. Y/N took her time eating her breakfast, going through her emails on her phone for a bit before deciding it was time to get ready. “I’ll meet you in here when I’m ready.” Y/N cooed, “thank you again for ordering for me..” She smiled making her way to the bathroom to get herself all fresh and ready. He said he liked the way she looked with no makeup so she decided to leave her skin dewy and fresh, adding some winged eyeliner and mascara while doing the classic French thing of putting on a red lip. 

“Are you ready to go?”

Harry pulled on some silky soft shirt Y/N had gotten him. It was baby blue but he decided to not button it all the way, and a pair of skinny jeans with his worn boots. It was comfortable and he wanted it to be that way. It was warm so he decided to forgo the jacket, instead tucking his wallet and phone into his front pocket. He knew pickpockets were a thing so he wasn’t changing it in the back. The makeup she wore looked very good. Classic. Just... more natural except for the red lip but it brought out how beautiful they were. Soft as fuck, too. He remembered how good they felt. It was getting more and more difficult to keep himself in check. “Yes. You look lovely. I like that makeup.” He complimented, making sure he tucked a room key into his wallet as well.

“Thank you. That shirt looks really good on you.” She wasn’t used to all the compliments from him, but god was she thriving off of them. Y/N visibly brightened up at his words and smiled. She was eyeing him up properly. She could eat him up. All she wanted to do was lick right up his chest but that would be a bit much for the hour of the day it was. Maybe later. “We’re actually close by so we don’t have to take a car.” Y/N hummed, clicking the button on the elevator and waiting for it to arrive. She decided against heels today seeing as they’d be walking around and instead went for boots. It made Harry a bit taller instead of eye level with her, making her feel rather feminine. 

The two of them looked good together, it was quite obvious by the way that people looked at them as they walked by. It made Y/N feel all giddy inside to think that these people all thought they were together. Of course, that’s all she’d ever wanted. It was beautiful out. Harry couldn’t believe he was actually in Paris, walking around, staying in a 5 star hotel with the prettiest woman he had ever met. It felt unreal. Like it was all coming full circle and he was in awe. 

“Wow... it's so gorgeous out here.” He whispered to her as they walked towards wherever she was taking them first. He trusted her to show him a good time. If anything, he knew she would provide good company. “How many times have you been here?” He asked, gently grabbing her hand when she tripped slightly on a cracked brick. “Oop. Gotta watch. You’re a lot shorter without those heels on, but it’s a good thing you aren’t wearing them on the street.” He smiled.

“I reckon I’m better talking in them than I am in normal shoes now.” Y/N chuckled, allowing herself to slot her fingers with his. If he was already holding her hand, she didn’t want to let it go. “I wanna say... in the teens if not twenties now?” She had been to Paris many times. “I do the whole fashion thing and so does my mom so Paris is quite essential.” She loved it. It was a place where she could escape, a place where she could express herself and was always welcomed by people. Y/N led him inside a vintage store her friend owned, knowing Harry loved those types of things this was exactly where he was meant to be. 

“Y/N! si agréable de te voir.” Y/N! so nice to see you her friend Jacqueline cooed as she saw her. 

“Chéri, c'est bon d'être bacm.” Darling, it’s good to be back. It was then that Jacqueline noticed Harry, smiling at him and at Y/N. 

“C'est ton copain? c'est un si bel homme.” Is this your boyfriend? He’s so handsome She asked, to which Y/N nodded in agreement. 

He might as well be her boyfriend, Harry thought with a smirk. Y/N didn’t know he spoke pretty good French. But obviously, he felt... okay. He should call it out and tell her that he wasn’t her boyfriend, but he liked hearing that. The pride on her face when she said it too... it did strike him. She would be that proud to be with him? He walked around and found a few cool vintage tee shirts. Older bands and French tee shirts from the 80’s which he found fascinating. All of it was incredibly cool. An old pair of sunglasses as well, he picked up and fell in love with. They weren’t special, not at all, but something about them felt good. 

“Find anything?” She was sorting through the dresses and he could see some things on her arm. It felt oddly normal and domestic, the both of them shopping together. He was trying to relax and let the feeling soak into him that perhaps this was good. Maybe this was just what he needed to experience to see that maybe he could give it a shot. Of course this was Y/N’s ultimate fantasy, shopping in Paris with her hopefully soon to be boyfriend. She loved knowing he was around, that if she turned the corner he would be there and she could go up to him and lean up on him and kiss his shoulder or whatever she wanted. It made her feel all giddy inside. “Hmm?” She turned her head as he came up behind her, Y/N smiled at him and saw he had picked up a few things. “I really like the color of this..” She showed him the set, “I’ll have to do some sowing but... I’ll make it work. And I really like this.” She said, holding up the vintage corset that her friend had held in the back for her knowing she’d like it. “How about you?” Y/N asked, nodding at the things he had seemed to pick up. She thought the shirts were cute, the sunglasses even better. “Love that.” She smiled up at him, liking the dream boat shirt. “You definitely are a dream boat.”

Her compliments meant a lot to him. He knew that she meant them wholeheartedly. It felt good to be on here with her and comparing things they were picking up. Truly, it felt like a whole other level. He liked it a bit too much. 

“Thanks.” He laughed, placing the things back on his arm. He was done but he followed behind Y/N as she looked through the final few racks before they made their way to check out. He took out his wallet and paid, letting Y/N go after because she was talking to the owner. He could hear her talking about him again. How he was handsome and where she had found him.

It was nice to have someone be proud of being with him, even if they technically weren’t. He was feeling a bit of guilt for feeling this when he was technically still with Caroline but Y/N was just next level. Different. Something no one else could be. Y/N took Harry’s hand as they left the store, taking his hand comfortably again. 

“It’s cute in there, yeah? Got lots of little vintage shops all around here... but if you’re thinking about the nice stuff...” Y/N led him to turn left, the Champs Élysées. “The biggest shopping street in the entire world.” She said with a small smirk. There were hundreds of designers, hundreds of regular stores, brand names, boutiques. You name it. Y/N knew they’d definitely find something here for his sister and mum and Y/N absolutely wanted to help in any way she could. The women in his life deserved to be pampered and spoiled, especially his mother for raising a son like him.

“Hm. I’m not sure I’m at the pay grade to normally shop at any of those.” He admitted. He made good money, yes. But a splurge on clothes every week or spending ten grand on something yet wasn’t something he could fathom. He knew that he was getting a raise soon and potentially another promotion but it was still hard. Living in New York wasn’t cheap and a quarter of his paycheck went to rent, then some to bills and food and the rest he saved. He wanted to buy a home one day. “I’m happy to come in with you though.” He wasn’t against looking. “Maybe get one or two things but I’m not going crazy. I don’t care if you do, though.” He didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t shop. He wanted her to enjoy herself and he hoped that she would get whatever she wanted, if that’s what she chose.

“You are on vacation though, can spoil yourself a little bit.” She hummed, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles as she pulled him into the Gucci store. Lots of things here reminded her of him, particularly the rings. She knew he wore lots of them and well, she felt like he needed a few proper ones. A few hundred dollars for a ring? Wasn’t too bad at all. She could buy him a couple if he wanted, Y/N waited to see where he went first before she made any choices. Maybe he’d go there on his own? She looked around the store but ultimately she did love their jewelry and handbags. So, she decided she really wanted to get this blue velvet and floral embroidered bag, looking at the rings in the case to see if she spotted anything she liked for herself and for Harry.

Harry hummed as he looked around, though he was certainly keeping an eye on Y/N. He felt a protectiveness over her growing. Making sure she was okay, happy where she was. She was glowing now that she seemed to be in her prime. Fashion really was right for her. He approached as she looked at the ring case, looking over her shoulder. A hand was placed on her back as he leaned over. 

“Which are we looking at?” He murmured, a bit close to her ear. He wanted to see but also... kind of wanted to see what her reaction would be with him being this close. The rings were cool. Eccentric. He loved them, actually. There was one with a lion holding a gem between its teeth, another just really flashy ruby one he liked so much. He wasn’t sure which one Y/N would like for sure but the pearl looking one and the band with flowers looked like it would be her type. He was happy to feel Y/N melt into his touch, her breath hitching at his hot breath so close to her ear. 

“I like a few... that one in particular.” Y/N pointed to the one with the flowers on the band. “Excuse me, could I see this in a size 16? Thank you.” She watched as he went to get it out for her. “And, the lion for him, please.” Y/N didn’t know what size he was in rings but she would surely find out now. “It reminds me of you..” She mumbled, trying on the ring for herself and nodded and decided to get it. There were a few more rings she had asked for him to try on deciding she’d get him the two he liked best. She didn’t care what he said, he was going to get those rings regardless. “What are you thinking?” Y/N cooed, desperately wanting to kiss on him at that moment. She could see he clearly liked the lion and the one with the ruby, “I’ll get them for you.” Y/N didn’t wait for him to answer, she just told the man helping them that she wanted those three rings and the bag. She cupped Harry’s cheeks in her hands, “just let me do this for you? Please?” She whispered, wishing she could kiss his nose but the red lipstick was really holding her back from that.

He felt his breathing catch. He was going to tell her no, that it was fine but she had to go and grab his face with her warm hands and lean up to look up at him. He felt her little thumb rub over his cheekbone and he could have sworn right there that she was a witch. She was enchanting. Tempting. Every nerve in his body felt sensitive just looking at her. His eyes scanned her face, feeling warmth in his tummy going up to his chest. How? She was putting spells on him and he felt the want for her rising as the day went on but she was so sweet. So giving to him. 

“Y/N... are you sure?” In other days he might have removed her hands but didn’t. He liked how they felt. She responded well to his crowding of her, and liked to be close to him for sure. He was becomming whipped as fuck.Y/N noticed how he softened right then and there, smiling gently at him.

“Yes. I’m positive. You deserve some more rings on your fingers, to add depth to your handshake.... and other things.” Y/N smirked, already thinking about him spanking her ass with his ring clad hand. She would lose her mind like that. She moved her hands down to his chest and eventually let go, very happy to be treating him to something nice. He certainly deserved it. They were having such a nice day, Y/N had forgotten all about her family back home and all about the fact that he had a girlfriend. The only thing on her mind was him. 

This could very well be their future, traveling around together and shopping and exploring. Spending time together with no worries. All he had to do was be hers. The company would be in his hands, it would likely be in his hands even if she wasn’t involved. 

Once they’d wrapped up at the Gucci store, Y/N felt like they were on a whole new level. With each passing moment she felt closer to him, each store they stepped in a new level up. By the time they got back to the hotel room, stuffed from dinner, she still didn’t want to leave his side. 

It didn’t take much convincing, after they both changed she called him into the living room to drink some wine and snack on the fruit and cheese the hotel had left for them. Harry was feeling like he was going to lose it. He didn’t know how he had been able to stay away but now that he was actually in close quarters with her, experiencing her sweetness and her touches and there were no expectations? He could find himself a bit mad. How was he going to stop? He wasn’t. See— he realized when they’d gotten back that he was being an idiot. Though he was nervous about his job, Y/N wasn’t the type to do that for vengeance. He would never cheat on her. He was so into her. Sexually, personality, emotionally. She had her fist on his heart. She wouldn’t be hurt by him and there was no way to predict the future. 

He had changed, coming into the little kitchenette to grab the wine Y/N had poured. However, he could see her from behind, reaching up into an ornate cabinet above the counter and a flash of lace under the big tee shirt seemed to make his brain short circuit. That was it. He had it. 

Fuck it all.

He approached from behind, pressing himself against her. His hand grabbed the glass but he didn’t move, taking a deep breath as he grabbed the counter. 

“You... know what you’re going to me.” He muttered into her ear. She had gasped when he had come closer but especially now, she seemed spooked at how he had grabbed her. Hands going for her waist.

Y/N has backed off significantly today. She wanted to see how the two of them would work when she wasn’t being super pushy and when he actually let go a little bit and provided that banter. She couldn’t have been happier with the result, she felt a lot closer to Harry, felt like she knew him a lot better and of course he now knew her for who she really was. What she wasn’t expecting was this. She wasn’t sure what she did this time but it clearly seemed to get under his skin. 

“Wasn’t...” She breathed out, leaning back into him a little bit and even more when she felt his hands on her waist. She turned her head so they were nearly touching lips and looked up at his eyes to see what was going on. His pupils were dilated behind belief and seeing him like that sent tingles throughout her body. She turned so she was facing him, hand moving up his chest. “What’s gotten you so worked up?” She asked, genuinely curious because lord knows she tried every trick in the book and it never worked before.

“You weren’t flirting. You weren’t touching me and I... fucking missed it.” He kept her backed into the counter so she couldn’t escape— even though he had a feeling she wouldn’t want to. He was going crazy. “I wanted it so fucking bad. I wanted you to kiss on me and touch me and I wanted you to say cute and dirty shit... fuck, it’s so bad because I shouldn’t, but you’re always there in my head and you’re never leaving.” He hissed, feeling himself getting worked up. “Can’t get hard without thinking about you— you know what I had to do, Y/N? I had to imagine you to get off when fucking my girlfriend. The only reason I even tried to fuck was to try and forget you and I couldn’t.” He could see she was shocked by that. “Flounce around in your pretty little outfits and are so sweet to me? Getting me gifts and noticing shit about me and it’s just... amazing. You’re so... amazing and it makes me insane.” He pressed a kiss to her neck. “This is what you wanted? Isn’t it? Wanted me to go crazy over you?” He spoke against her skin, biting down a little bit.

Was Y/N dreaming? A few days ago he was doing his hardest to get her to stay away from him, convincing his girlfriend nothing was going on between them, and now here he was pressing her against the counter. Her eyes were blown wide, listening to him intently and watching his stare grow more and more intense. Y/N was already pooling I’m her panties just having him be so dominant, but him saying he couldn’t get hard unless he was thinking about her made her knees buckle. Her poor man, she’d be more than willing to help him. All she wanted was to treat him like a king. Just as she went to speak he started kissing at her neck, her head falling back to give him more space. 

“F—fuck, Harry..” She breathed, nails digging into the skin of his arm. “Should have just listened to me then.” Y/N remarked, “you could have had me bent over your desk everyday for weeks... was ready for you and you made me wait— you drove me crazy.”

“Maybe I should have.” He muttered. “I’ve been going out of my mind trying to be a nice guy. Trying to worry about other shit but you’d come flouncing in and lean over the desk with these tits out with a scone in hand.” He groaned. “Two weaknesses already, and you knew it.” He had been fucked after that kiss. Now he had gone and given in and it felt good to be telling her that he was going mad. Mad for her. He needed this. Needed her. “I’ve needed you, Y/N. Been so stubborn in not letting myself have you but you’re so perfect, baby. So, so perfect. I can tell that other men have treated you like shit and I can’t... fathom hurting you.” Another kiss to her neck before he went closer to her jaw. “I should have listened to you but I need to have you. I’ve been insane. I need it so badly.” His hand came up and collared her throat. Harry took a breath before he pulled her hair back from her face. “What can we do, hm? Can I make love to you, precious? Or do you want to fuck?” He didn’t care which one. He just knew he needed to have her. Soft or rough, he was a mess.

Y/N’s eyes rolled back, eyes fluttering shut at his words. She was floating, she swore it. She had full on dreams about this, about him caving in and finally giving into her and she was starting to think he’d never come around. A whimper left her as he collared her throat, lips parting to answer him. 

“Fuck— please, touch me... all over, want you everywhere, please.” She was begging, something she never did, but she really wanted this. Y/N wanted a passionate fuck, wanted to feel him deep, wanted to know what it was like to be loved up on by him. “Make love to me, Harry, please—“ 

Things started moving a lot quicker then. The wine was forgotten about, Y/N didn’t even realize Harry  had picked her up until suddenly they were moving into his bedroom. Her hand cupped his cheek, leaning in to finally kiss him the way she had been wanting to. He didn’t reject her this time, didn’t shove a finger in her mouth, he let her kiss him like she was searching for her last breath. Harry didn’t know where his mouth started and hers began but he knew he was loving it. She was perfect. Literal perfection for him. She was beautiful and witty, smart and driven, smelled so good and tasted sweet. He was a goner but this especially, solidified it all. His hand grabbed at her shirt to pull it over her head, needy to get to more skin. His mouth immediately began to kiss all over her; laying her down in her bed and pressing her into it as he finally found himself at her tits.

“So beautiful, baby. So perfect.” He nearly moaned as he wrapped his lips around her nipple, suckling a bit to get her worked up. It was satisfying his own needs and wants but Y/N was just as happy to have him doing this. His own shirt was tossed down to the ground and he could feel her clawing after her shoulders but he didn’t care.

“Harry...” She breathed out, a moan following shortly after. It felt amazing. To finally have him like this, it was overwhelming. Y/N’s whole body was reacting to every little touch, cheeks and chest already flushed with arousal. She had imagined this many times, not just having sex with Harry but having sex with a good man. Nothing turned a woman on more than feeling appreciated and properly loved on and that’s exactly what he was doing. She was unwinding with every kiss and suckle, “feels so good...” She whimpered, knowing he hadn’t even done anything yet. “I want you so bad— Harry.” The girl was already a mess, clawing at his shoulders and tugging at his hair. Once they got going she surely wouldn’t be able to stop. She’d be on his cock like crazy, he’d be begging her to stop, Y/N would worship this man.

“Gonna have me, baby. Don’t worry.” He wasn’t worried. Y/N was going to be writhing one pleasure. He didn’t have much patience for foreplay— that would be later. He had been holding this back for weeks now and needed to be inside of her pussy more than anything. “M’so sorry, baby. I’ll lick you out later I just... need to be inside of you so badly. So bad.” He promised, shoving his pants down off the bed as he settled between her thighs, rubbing the tip through her slit. “Fuck... so messy. Got so wet for me, baby. Can’t believe it.” He was shocked and pleased by it, his cock sliding through the folds easily. She was a mess still, breathing heavily as she whined. He wasn’t going to tease her too much though, because he couldn’t stand it either. His cock slid in and that was when he knew he never wanted another pussy again. Because in his 28 years, he had never felt something as tight, as wet, as hot as her cunt wrapped around him. Slowly sinking in, he let his mouth hover over hers. Both of them were nearly speechless with relief, her hands gripping him tight. When he got a bit deeper, he knew he had to be stretching. “M’sorry baby... know it hurts a little.” He whispered when she whined, squirming a bit. “Almost all the way. Gonna go slow right now. Your pussy’s so small.” He rubbed his nose against hers before kissing her again.

The second she felt his hard cock slide against her she knew she was gone for him. Y/N was a whining mess just from feeling how big he was, she knew she’d feel him for days after. It had been a while since she’s had anyone touch her like this and lord knows he’s the biggest she’d ever had. Y/N couldn’t even bring herself to speak, it was that good. Feeling herself stretch around him, feeling how well he was hitting all the right spots. She felt all floaty all over again. 

“O—Okay daddy—“

Everyone knew Y/N had daddy issues, she had mommy issues as well, so a daddy kink was expected. She hadn’t expected to bust it out so quickly with Harry but he felt so warm and nurturing, felt like she could trust him with her body and her heart. He emulated the word fully in her mind. Harry’s body shuddered, both at the name she said and the tightness. He was going to take care of her. He could see she was vulnerable and open with him, trusting him with everything. Her body, her heart, everything. He would take care of it. Of her. 

“Gonna break up with her for good.” He whispered into her ear. “Cause I need you. I need you so much, Y/N.” He couldn’t say love yet. This was still growing but he could see it heading that route if they were going to continue. Each thrust was heavenly. Once he had gotten all the way in, he was thrusting deep and slow. Getting to places he was sure no one else had, based off of her gasps and moans and how she would shake when he got particularly deep. “You’re so good. So beautiful, Y/N. Feel so fucking good around me.” He purred, hands holding the pillows above them as he got what he needed. “Been a temptress. Should have taken it when you offered first... but now, M’gonna keep taking it. You want me?”

Y/N has never felt like this before. He really meant it when he said he’d make love to her. He slipped so effortlessly inside of her and told her how beautiful she was, how he was going to break up with his girlfriend, how he needed her. The girl had never felt so appreciated in her life. She was used to rough dirty sex, was used to being called a whore and a slut, the sweetest name she’d been called during sex was baby. This? This felt so real and genuine. He was calling her by her name. Between that and the incredible angles he was hitting? Y/N felt like there was nothing better. Tears began to prick at her eyes, her stomach tightening as her orgasm approached.

“I want you so bad, daddy! I—I need you. Please— don’t ever stop!” Y/N was pleading, moaning loudly at the overwhelming pleasure he was causing her. It was true when they said sex was mostly a psychological thing. It was all about the headspace and how someone made you feel. Anyone could do those actions, but it’s the intent. It’s about the bond.

“Don’t wanna stop, baby. Promise.” He was kissing her cheeks as a few tears  slipped down her cheek. It was emotional. For sure they’d been tiptoeing for weeks now— he has anyways, and there was an obvious mutual attraction and he had been so nervous over it. Now that he was getting to have her the way they’ve both needed after, it was a huge relief. “My beautiful girl... feel so good. Never had anything like this before.” He whispered, keeping the pace slower and deep, her legs wrapped around his waist and getting him as deep as possible. It was truly a passionate affair and he knew that he was lucky to have this. To have her. Always her. “Gonna be mine, sweet girl? Be daddy’s girl?” He was speaking deep and low, knowing it was getting to her just as it was getting to him. “Be my baby? I want to keep you.” He promised. “Want you to be mine and this pussy, this mouth, every bit.” He nipped her bottom lip lovingly.

“Yeah, mhm, yeah..” Her moans were extremely erotic. “Yours— I’m yours, daddy, I’m all yours.” Y/N has no problem giving her all to him. She’d spent so long pining over him, getting to know him and flirting with him, hoping that he would see just how good they could be. For weeks she’d just wanted a smile from him, even maybe a hug. This? This was more than she could have asked for. She didn’t expect this when her father told her about this trip. At most she thought they’d be having hot needy primal sex, not deep passionate and emotional sex. It was incredible, definitely something she’d never experienced before. “I’m so close— I’m gonna cum for you, please let me cum for you daddy. Wanna make a mess all over your cock!” Y/N could feel herself getting closer to the edge, every thrust he gave pushing her even closer. Looking into his eyes was even more erotic, his eyes blown. Of course she wanted to keep kissing him but she wanted to be looking at him when she came.

“Yeah.. want you to. M’so close, angel. Gonna cum in you, yeah? Gonna make a mess inside of you and you’re gonna be mine. All mine.” He promised, going a little harder, a little faster. He could see what thrusts and angles drove her crazy. What she liked. Sure, sex was going to be hot and crazy later but Y/N deserves someone to make love to her and make her feel appreciated and cared for. Things Harry felt towards her. “Please cum for me, angel.” He cooed, smoothing hair out of her face as he got closer, his own cock twitching in need.

Y/N kept her eyes on him as she came, her voice getting caught in her throat. She has never felt so good before, the waves of pleasure spread through her and ultimately when it all settled down she wasn’t left feeling drained. Harry has made her feel so incredibly cared for, it felt like he loved her, but she knew that it could only get better. 

“Cum for me, daddy... make me feel so good, I wanna feel you fill me.” Y/N was speaking in a soft and gentle tone, combing through his hair and kissing at his jaw and neck as he thrusted into her at that quicker pace. It was perfect, seeing him and hearing him in that blissful state. Y/N would never let this man go. He was absolutely perfect. Her lips found his in a passionate kiss, slow and steady, but deep nonetheless. Y/N felt the urge to say that she loved him but that would be pushing it. She’d simply never felt like that before. Tears still trickled down her cheeks, small sniffles coming from her when she pulled away for air.

Harry came probably harder than he ever had. It just felt so good. So tight. Y/N, her words, her cunt, her mouth. The moment, too. All of it called to a deeper part of him he hadn’t truly experienced before and he loved it. Curses left him after he came, ribbons off cum pumping into her body. His legs shook as he filled her, kissing deeply as he did so. It was the best moment, he thinks. Sex hadn’t ever been this good. He’d had plenty of mundane sex, an orgasm being nice but this was the shit he understood. He got why people loved it. 

“Shhh, sweetheart. Why are you crying?” He questioned, not knowing if it was emotions or he had done something. He kept himself calm though, holding her face and wiping away the tears as they came. “Don’t need to cry. Was so good, wasn’t it?”

“Cause I—it felt so good.” Y/N whimpered out, smiling a bit as he went to hold her face. “So, so good.” She nuzzled against his hand, turning her head to press a long slow kiss to the palm of his hand. She sniffled, blinking away her tears so she could look at him. “Happy tears...” She told him, leaning up to press more kisses to his beautiful mouth. “Wanted you for such a long time and—“ Y/N let out a shaky breath, “made me feel so beautiful and loved...” She tested up again but closed her eyes before she could start crying. “Never... never felt like that before, felt so nice.” She told him, feeling herself start to calm down. Y/N was certainly sleeping in his bed tonight and they were going to sleep in tomorrow morning. They had time before his meeting at 5.

“Good.” His body felt fuzzy and warm and light and he was happy. Really happy for the first time in a long time. Y/N had the power and he had waited too long. He should have given in earlier. “That’s how I always want you to feel with me.” He gently shifted so he was on his side, laying next to her so she could curl up against him. “It felt so good to me too. Like... the best ever, if m’being honest.” He helped her dry her cheeks, feeling her lay her face on his chest. “You are so beautiful and so wanted. I know I did a shit job of showing that to you before but I decided that I’m gonna keep it going and make sure you know how much I care.” He took her little hand and held it in his, bringing her knuckles up and kissing each one. “You’re safe with me. M’not gonna hurt you. I’ll take care of you whenever you need me, yeah?” He wanted her to know and be aware she could come to him with anything. Maybe it was quick. It was. But he couldn’t help it.

Being around Harry has proven to bring Y/N comfort. Even resting her head against his chest and listening to his heart beat grounded her far more than she expected, he was becoming her safe space and safe haven. She wouldn’t let anyone ruin that for her. 

“You sure about that?” She asked, knowing full well that if he meant whenever he’d really never be alone anymore. It was only the second day of their vacation and they already cracked, the positive was that they had five more days together. She would take advantage of her time for sure. “Meant what I said, I really am all yours.” Her fingers traced over his tattoos. “I want to do all that I can to make you happy and give you the life you deserve... I know you’re worried about getting the job but I’m gonna let you in on a secret. My dad, he wants to retire within the next few years.. he’s looking for someone to inherit the company, it’s going to be you. He was already thinking of you before we met, but now? The job is yours.”

“You think so?” He questioned. His heart filled with hope. He could get Y/N and he could get the fucking company? That was the ultimate dream. Having someone like her at his side would be the most incredible thing. “That would be amazing. Having you... the job.” He whispered. “All I want. And Oliver, too.” He chuckled. “Still have to meet him. He’s going to love you. You’ll be the best of friends.” There was no doubt about that in his mind. “When I wake up, want you right next to me. Yeah? No wandering around.” He didn’t want to wake up and panic. Thinking it was all a dream. “The first time I wake up next to you is going to be amazing.”

“He’s been trying to set me up with one of these interns for years... none of them were nearly as good at their job as you and none of them came close to you looks wise..” She felt a smile coming on her face. “I knew the second I saw you.. you were going to be mine.” It had been a dream come true for her to actually find a decent guy, not even decent but perfect. “Like an angel sent from heaven you were.” The mention of the cat got her all excited. “Oliver!” She giggled, “I can’t wait to meet him... I’m gonna come over when we get back yeah? Want to see your place.” Y/N said with a happy smile, she knew for sure it would be extremely cozy and comfortable, not like her place... her place felt like a damn museum. She nuzzled her face into his neck, wrapping her whole body around his. She would be more than happy to wake up in bed with him next to her. She didn’t want this to ever go away, not anymore. Now that she had him she’d never let him go, she didn’t care who stopped her.

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[part 3]

A/N: OOOOOOO things are progressing... be ready for this next part hehe - n+d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

[pinky-the-elephant-room]

Incandescent

ϟ AN: I struggled with this one cause I tried to finish it while I was sick, so be kind guys I would appreciate it. The brief mention of Bakugou is connect to: this fic. But you can skip it if you would like.

ϟ Warnings: Explicit smut with aged up Kaminari, mentions of spankings, and rough sex. Please read at your own discretion. Denki x Fem reader

ϟ Summary: He shouldn’t want his innocent and proper ex girlfriend. But sometimes it’s nice to revisit the past for some much needed debauchery.

ϟϟϟϟϟϟϟϟ

It’s been give or take four to five years. He hadn’t thought of her in that way in years. When they broke up, it was amicable. They understood the course of their relationship had hit a dead end. They wanted to date other people and see what life had to offer. The two of them had agreed on this. So why was it that he was unable to look away from Y/N tonight?

She looked gorgeous; Y/N had been a scrappy girl in U.A. Now she was a woman in every sense of the word. She had filled out her costume so well now it was hard not to notice. Kaminari saw the various appreciative looks she was gaining from the various onlookers.

Maybe it was the conversation he had with Sero a few weeks ago.

The two of them and Kirishima met up at a bar to relax. Even Bakugou joined them for an hour before he stomped to the home he shared with his girlfriend. Who knew the first to be in a stable relationship and remain in one for years would be the wild Bakugou? That same feral kid who would continuously threaten and scream “Die!” whenever it fit his fancy.

Anyway, Sero and Kaminari took it upon themselves to do a drinking game, and before Sero knew it, he was drunk. He never could hold his alcohol well.

It was in this state that Sero confessed something that shocked Kaminari to his core.

“L-listen. Doon’t bee madd-d. Me and Y/N had a thingsh for a month,” Sero hiccupped. “I’m shorry. I -hope you’re not mad.”

Even while intoxicated, Kaminari had the sense not to flip out. What was there to be mad about anyway? Y/N and he hadn’t dated in years and weren’t as close as they used to be. Kaminari still was cordial to her and whatever boyfriend she might have introduced to their 1-A group.

Sure, it was weird that Sero and Y/N were a thing. But it was more because it happened out of nowhere. They were polar opposites, people he thought didn’t even know each other’s first names.

“Here, drink some water. You’re wasted.”

Kaminari tried to calm an overly emotional Sero who was trying to smother him with affection. It was usually the other way around. At least, he wasn’t a needy drunk like the taped hero.

“But maaaan I gotta say. Y/N was hot! S-shhe was the best ssseex I had in years. It was too bad it ended,” Sero lamented before giggling at the word “sex”. Then he proceeded to chant it and burst into drunken laughter.

Kaminari spent the rest of the night getting sober before helping Kirishima take Sero back to his apartment. The two buddies then sorted it all out by acknowledging that the night never happened, and it wasn’t something to ever be spoken about again.

But he couldn’t help himself as he checked out Y/N indiscriminately. The sex Kaminari remembered was sweet and vanilla. Nothing to write home about. He had better sex with more experienced partners. But it was great for his first time. Which now, he couldn’t reconcile with the sex that Sero described. “The best sex I ever had” with Y/N of all people? Sweet and sugar Y/N? Now that was something Kaminiari had to check out for himself.

So, making up his mind, he strolled over casually to where Y/N was conversing with a fellow hero.

“Hey Y/N! Long time no see. You look amazing.”

Y/N excused herself and turned around to face him with a smile.

“Denki, I just saw you a few weeks ago at Jiro’s birthday party.”

He sheepishly chuckled. “Oh, right. But I mean it, you look great.”

A soft blush appeared on Y/N’s face before she tried to face away from him. Now that was interesting. Maybe it won’t be so hard to get in her good graces once again.

“A-arigato. Did you need something from me? You’re usually off with Grape Juice trying to score a date at NPHC.”

He casually swung an arm around her shoulder. “Now, why would I do that when there’s already the beautiful Y/N in front of me?”

She shrugged off his arm and pushed him away. “Seriously? You know I don’t like these types of jokes.”

“Heh, you liar. If I remember correctly, you used to love my jokes.”

Kaminari stepped closer to Y/N and curled his arm around her waist tightly.

“You used to love it when I whispered into your ear like this,” he muttered hotly against her skin.

She let out a girlish squeal before pushing him away from her person.

He just grinned when he saw the red hues spread over the apples of her cheeks and ears. Just as he was about to grab her again, Y/N scuttled away from him like he had just caught fire.

Well, it looks like she was still the same Y/N even if she was grown up in other ways. That was more reassuring than he thought possible. Which he felt a little confused by; why did he care if Y/N was still the same girl he dated back in U.A.?

The rest of the evening Kaminari took great pleasure in messing with Y/N whenever possible. When their eyes happened to meet, he sent a heart-stopping wink her way. He brought her champagne only to brush his hand against her ass accidentally. When other men tried to approach her, he managed to intercept them.

“She’s my date for tonight. Sorry guys,” Kaminari joked while he tugged Y/N away from everybody else.

Y/N tried to remove her hand from his hold, but he only tightened his grip. Kaminari maneuvered through the hallways before he pulled her inside an open door. They were isolated in a private bathroom above the National Pro Hero Convention.

“What is going on with you? Why are you flirting with me?”

He took his time locking and securing the door. A bit nervous about turning and answering Y/N’s questions. He didn’t know if she would reject him tonight. Flirting was harmless, but sex complicated relationships. So, he would tread lightly. Yet, there was a confidence in knowing that she already engaged in something with Sero without making it serious. Maybe tonight it wouldn’t end in rejection.

As he walked towards Y/N teeming with self-assuredness, an easy his younger self would have been regarded with jealousy. It was the type of boldness only acquired after years of experience. Funny how he would use that same experience to entice the first girl he ever dated.

Y/N gazed at him as if his eyes could give her the answers she wanted. A litany of emotions flashed across her face. Was she always this expressive?

“Denki- “he cut her off with a kiss.

Kaminari swallowed her whimpers and tangled his tongue along with hers. She tasted vaguely like the champagne he had handed her earlier. He clutched her hips tightly before clasping her bottom. He didn’t remember her ass being so thick. Whatever Y/N was doing, it was working out for her. Perhaps a bit too well. He hadn’t necessarily planned to fuck her ass, but the night was long, and he had full intentions of taking advantage of it.

He separated from her mouth only to go back one and twice more. As if he was afraid to remove himself from her enticing taste.

“Y/N, I need you like. Right. Fucking. Now,” Kaminari gasped out while placing wet kisses along her slender neck.

The gasps evolved into a groan when he felt her tentatively touch his clothed cock. Her touch only served to stir his groin, and he placed his hand over hers to rub more firmly.

There was only so much he could take. He never did have any patience and was tired of being unable to get Y/N underneath him like he wanted.  Kaminari cornered Y/N against the wall and pressed his body adjacent to her soft curves.

“Tell me what you want, baby. Yes or no.”

Y/N hesitated as her ample chest quivered, and her eyes glowed with untamed desire.

“If you really want me, then yes,” she whispered before pulling him down to kiss her.

“You know what to do.” As soon as those words left his mouth, he guided her legs around his waist to which she tightly wrapped. Y/N didn’t need any more encouragement as she closed her eyes and concentrated. In a puff of black smoke that quickly dispersed, the duo disappeared. When Kaminari looked up from licking the salt from her wet skin, he realized that the two were in a darkened room looking over Tokyo city lights.

It would appear the familiar bedroom sparked something for Y/N because her body relaxed, and she redirected his distracted face back to her mouth. She let out a low moan and ran her blunt nails through his blond hair.

Kaminari’s breath hitched, and he could feel his body responding to her. Sero didn’t lie, nor did he exaggerate. She had changed and in the most unexpected way. It was always him who would initiative their kisses and dictate their pace. Y/N, in her inexperience, was too shy to voice her needs, so he did his best with what he had. He didn’t mind it at the time because it was fun learning what worked and didn’t work. Now the way her grip was tightening in his hair, he couldn’t help but surrender to her whims instead.

As her tongue was keeping his mouth occupied, he could absentmindedly feel her take off his signature black and white jacket. That fueled the blood rushing through his veins and managed to engorge the hardened flesh pressed against Y/N’s hips. He always did love it when women removed his clothes for him. He loved it even more when they got frisky in the process, like how she flicked his sensitive nub with her tongue when she managed to get his shirt off as well.

Somehow Y/N’s clothes joined his on the floor, and Kaminari ended up on her bed.

“Come on, Y/N. Show me what you got me,” he said with leisure, resting his hands behind his head.

He kept still and tried not to make a sound as their centers connected. It took a while for Y/N to get it together as his cock kept slipping through her wet center. His eyes were tightly closed as his member entered her, and her warm embrace surrounded him.

Kaminari opened his eyes again to see an exquisite sight of a naked Y/N on top of him. He honestly didn’t think that this was something that would ever happen between the two of them. But life was unique like that; you never know when you would feel the itch to fuck your single ex-girlfriend.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to make a smart comment, she started moving. He should have known better to challenge Y/N, though. She might have been shy, but she was notoriously competitive and a sore loser. So, he shouldn’t have been that surprised when Y/N started riding him like a champion.

Many people had commented that he was a certified dumbass. He always disputed the absurd claims because no matter what people thought of him, there was always someone dumber like Mina. But he never felt as foolish as in that moment when Kaminari realized he spelled out his doom when he mouthed off to Y/N. The intensity in her eyes didn’t dissipate despite the rigorous rocking of her body. She was moving like an exotic dancer with the control of her movement and her slams' precision. It was no doubt in his mind that she had practiced until she mastered this particular lesson. Now he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by his own choices.

He could feel the telltale signs as his skin heated up and the tingles at the base of his spine. And the more telling signal of his balls getting heavy and tight.

He gritted his teeth and sunk his fingers into her hips.

“Y/N, fuck!” he hissed to her face. Y/N responded with defiance in her eyes alongside vigorous slams of her hips.  

He couldn’t lose to her, not right now. Not ever. Especially if he wanted back in her bed in the near future.

That thought temporarily distracted him. Kaminari didn’t realize he was already contemplating a round two. His attention quickly snapped back to Y/N when her inner walls clenched around his cock with a vengeance. He groaned and bit down on his lip to distract himself. It did nothing to deter his pleasure. He knew like the first he had touched himself as a randy young boy that the height of his gratification wasn’t too far behind. But too bad for Y/N that he was no longer an inexperienced teen and knew exactly how to turn this into his favor.

Kaminari flipped her onto her back, and he relished the shocked look upon her face. Just as he was about to reenter her wet center, she cried out.

“Wait, not like this. On my hands and knees,” Y/N urged Kaminari by pushing back against him. Too shocked to argue with her, he let Y/N shove him a couple of inches and watched as she turned around and exposing her ass to his face. Unable to help himself, he clutched her bottom tightly before landing a firm smack onto her skin. Her body jolted, and she swayed a bit but didn’t say anything more.

He let out a chuckle. “Anything you want, babe.”

Kaminari gripped her hips tightly before crushing her smaller body with his. He plowed into her with an exuberance he never knew he was capable of. Instead of concealing her screams as most would, Y/N let pleasure known almost shamelessly. She was so uninhibited at that moment he almost proud that he was the reason that she was screaming herself hoarse.

It was due to all the noise that he didn’t hear what she muttered next.

“Wha-“he panted as he tried to get ahold of himself. “What was that?”

“Pull my hair, Denki,” her sore voice commanded.

There wasn’t any heat nor any threat in her words, but he felt compelled to fulfill her every command. Almost as if the sheer exhaustion hypnotized him that her voice conveyed. Almost as if they had been fucking nonstop for hours rather than it being their first round. He grabbed a fist full of her soft hair and tugged, following the motions of their bodies.

Y/N voiced her approval, and the next words she wailed almost made him lose his mind and spill prematurely into her.

“Harder! I said harder!”

Kaminari fucked her so vigorously that he vaguely thought he would break Y/N’s bed, and she was going to kill him in the morning. As Y/N's orgasm finally pushed her over the edge, her body shook and trembled, all the while receiving his still steady thrusts. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he let himself go as the orgasm literally shook him to his core. He rarely lost control of his quirk anymore, but the temporary loss of his senses gave himself and Y/N underneath him a mild shock.

He let out a deep groan and felt his body twitch from his own quirk. Kaminari quickly moved Y/N on her back and checked over her quickly to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Her face pinkened, and her chest heaved almost enticingly, but overall looked unharmed.

The two of them stayed on her bed, breathing heavily and looking up at the ceiling of Y/N’s apartment.

“So, you got any plans next week?”

[elianamarie-blog]

Can you do an imagine with Hyde and a depressed reader?

I’d love to my dear.

I Just Need You To Hold Me

Lately, Y/n L/n hasn’t been acting like herself. She doesn’t smile or laugh as much as she used to. And if she does, it doesn’t reach her eyes. In fact, it barley graces her lips. As if she’s just faking it to make sure her friends don’t worry about her. Fez who always makes her laugh with his cute, innocent, or even lewd jokes didn’t seem to faze her. But her boyfriend, Steven Hyde, had definitely noticed. Everyone else did too, but were too timid to talk to her about it. She had even stopped taking care into her appearance. Her hair had become dull and barley combed, dark circles had developed under her y/e/c eyes, and she wouldn’t shower a few days at a time. She would use deodorant and perfume to cover up her odor. 

Before they knew it, she stopped showing up to hang out. She stopped showing up to circle time and even worse, she stopped showing up to dates. Steven and the rest of the group was starting to get really worried about her. On another occasion of her not showing up to hang out, the gang sat in the basement, worrying about her.

“Should we go check on her?” Donna asked. “I mean, I haven’t seen her in three weeks. I’m really starting to worry.”

“Yeah, I think we should,” Fez responded. “She hasn’t been herself.”

“Do you have any idea what might be wrong with her?” Eric asked Hyde.

“No,” he responded, shaking his head. “She won’t let me in, man. I’ve tried asking her if she’s okay and she just keeps saying she’s fine. Clearly things aren’t fine.”

“Well, if she says she’s fine, she clearly doesn’t want to talk about it,” Jackie replied, filing her nails. “Girls do that.”

Hyde gave her a deadpanned look. “You don’t say.”

“Yeah, man. Why do you keep pushing it? Clearly, she’s okay. As long as you’re getting action, that’s all that matters,” Kelso said.

Hyde glared at him before throwing a magazine at him. 

“Ow! My eye!” Kelso cried out. “Stop doing that!”

“Get smarter!” Hyde yelled back.

Suddenly, the phone rang, silencing the group’s laughter. Hyde answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” a sweet, familiar voice said from the other side.

“Hey,” he responded in a gentle tone. 

“I know that this is last minute, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to the movie tonight with everyone.”

“Y/n, this is the fourth time this week. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she lied. “I’m just super tired. College finals are kicking my butt, you know?”

“Y/n, you’ve been on spring break all week,” he said. “C’mon, seriously. What’s wrong? I’m worried. We all are.”

“You’re worried?” Kelso said from the background. “You guys, he’s totally in love!”

Hyde motioned his hand towards Eric who nodded understanding and reached over, slugging Kelso in the shoulder.

Kelso whimpered before laughing. “That was a good one.”

Y/n weakly smiled before sighing. “I’m just going through a rough time, that’s all.”

“If you’re going through something, why didn’t you tell any of us?” he asked her. “We’re your friends. We’re here for you, you know that. Especially me.”

“Yeah, I know. I just--I didn’t want to burden you guys.”

“You know you don’t. C’mon babe--Y/n,” he quickly corrected himself after receiving raised eyebrows from the group. Knowing Hyde for so long, he’s never used pet names with his girlfriends. Well, not in front of them anyway.

“Steven, I said I’m fine. Can we please drop it?” she said frustrated. “I don’t want to talk about it, especially with you guys. You don’t need to know my business. If I choose to not talk to you about it, then I don’t have to. Please respect that.”

“Look, I was just trying to help--”

“Well, don’t,” she snapped. “I don’t need it. I can handle this on my own. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

With that, a click was heard on the other end. Hyde pressed the phone to his forehead before hanging up himself.

“What was that about?” Eric asked.

“I don’t know, man,” he responded. “Something is wrong. I can’t just sit here. I have to go see her.” He stood, grabbing his jacket and keys off the table by the door. 

“Well, let us know what she says. Babe,” Eric teased.

“Remind me to pound on you later,” he threatened before ripping the door open and practically running to his car.

Once he reached Y/n’s house, he walked up to her front door and knocked. After a minute, the door swung open, revealing her mom.

“Oh, Steven,” she greeted. “What a pleasant surprise. You must be here to see Y/n.”

“Yes, Mrs. L/n. Can I see her?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now, sweetie. She’s been...in a mood lately.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here. I just want to check on her and see if she’s okay. I haven’t seen her in a while and I’m worried.”

“You’re such a sweet boy. Come on in.”

When Y/n had brought home Steven for the first time, her parents weren’t crazy about him. It’s a small town, people talk. They knew his reputation, but they couldn’t deny how good he treated her and how he even changed for her. They knew he was a sweetheart and knew about his home life. It was hard to dislike him when they saw how gentle he was with her and surprisingly affectionate. And when they saw how happy they made each other, they started growing a soft spot for him too. 

Steven immediately took for the stairs, making a left and going two doors down to Y/n’s room. He raised a fist to knock, but heard soft crying from the other end. He didn’t bother to knock and just let himself in. “Doll?”

The sight he walked into, made his heart drop. Her room was dark and her curtains were closed, allowing no sunlight in. Empty glasses and dirty plates littered the room, but the thing that caught his senses was the smell emitting from the room. If she hadn’t turned around upon hearing him enter, he wouldn’t thought maybe she wasn’t alive.

“Steven, what are you doing here?” she croaked.

“Oh my God...” he trailed, taking in the sight of the room before his eyes landed on her, covered by her duvet. She was a mess. Her hair was a rat’s nest, the dark circles under her eyes were even darker, her skin was dull, and she was still in her pj’s, given that it was four o’ clock in the afternoon. “Y/n...what happened? What’s going on?”

“Please, Steven, just leave,” she begged, her voice weak.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” he said, standing firm. “You’re done lying to me. You need to tell me the truth. Did something happen? Did I do something?” His heart picked up slightly thinking that all this was due to him.

She shook her head meekly. “No. It has nothing to do with you. You’re perfect.”

“Then please tell me what’s wrong,” he begged, sitting at the end of her bed. “Let me fix it. Please.”

“You can’t. You can’t fix it,” she croaked in a high pitch voice, fighting her tears. “Nobody can fix it.”

His eyebrows knit together. “What’re you talking about?”

She sat up fully, facing him. She casted her gaze down to her hands, afraid of wanting to admit what was wrong. “Lately, I haven’t been feeling well.”

“Is that it? You could’ve said something and I would’ve brought you some soup or something.”

She shook her head. “Not that kind of sick.”

He looked at her in confusion. “Then what kind?”

She took a deep breath, a few tears escaping. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “I went to the doctor recently because I haven’t been myself. I can’t get into what normally would make me excited. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’ve lost my appetite. I can’t even get out of bed to take a shower.”

“Y/n, where is this heading?”

She scrunched her face in anguish before being able to answer. “The doctor seems to think I have depression and anxiety. He recommended that I either see a therapist and psychiatrist and go on meds or admit myself into a psych ward.”

“What?” he asked in genuine shock. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way?”

“Because I didn’t know what was wrong with me!” she exploded, tears streaming down her face. “I thought I was going crazy. I was so scared you would t-think that I had l-lost my mind and l-leave m-me.” She was hiccupping, trying to get through a sentence through her sobbing. “I was afraid that you would see me as a burden and too much and leave me alone with e-everyone else.”

Hyde’s heart shattered after hearing her tear-felt confession. “Oh, baby doll. Come here.” He shifted himself up to her and wrapped her in such a tight hug, that she for the first time in weeks, she felt safe. “For the record, I don’t think you’re crazy or a burden.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Steven. I can handle it.”

“I’m not lying,” he answered honestly and kissed her temple. “I promise I’m telling the truth. You have no idea how amazing you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Shut up and listen to me,” he said and pulled her back, wiping her tears with the pad of his thumb. “You are the most badass girl I know. You are smart, and funny, and kind, and so beautiful. I’ve never met a girl like you before and I love you.”

She paused, looking deeply into his steel blue eyes. That was the first time he’s ever said that to her. They’ve been together for at least three months now and they’ve never exchanged those three words before.

“You...what?”

“I love you, Y/n,” he repeated. “Just because you have something screwy going on in your brain doesn’t make you less amazing. While I agree you should get some help, it doesn’t take away how much of a badass you are. You’re the only chick who can make me laugh as hard as you do. The only one who isn’t afraid to challenge me and make me think. You don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. You don’t take people’s shit and you’re such a good friend and girlfriend. Not too mention you’re the best sex ever.”

He winked at her, making her genuinely smile for the first time in weeks. 

“You promise?” she asked weakly. 

“Of course I promise, Doll,” he replied, squeezing her tighter. “You just need to let me in. And tell me what I need to do to make everything better. Even if it’s just in that moment. Please.”

She nodded. “I’ll try. This isn’t easy for me.”

“And I’m not expecting it to be,” he said, rubbing her back. “I just need to know when you start to feel this way so that I can help. Even if you feel like you can’t say anything, you can do something as squeeze my hand and I’ll know.”

She nodded, burying her face in his chest. It was a comfortable silence for a minute with him rubbing her back and her trying to control her breathing. “I loemf youem too,” she mumbled in his chest.

“What?” he asked.

“I loemf youem too,” she repeated, head still buried in his chest.

“Y/n, I can’t understand you.”

She pulled away, looking directly into his eyes. “I love you too.”

He grabbed her face and pulled her in for a much needed kiss. Not just any kiss. The “I miss you” kiss and “I’m here for you” kiss. The “I need you” kiss. The “please don’t ever let me go” kiss. Everything they wanted to say to each other was said into this kiss. 

When he finally pulled away to breath some air, he rested his forehead against hers. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone until you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“But you do realize you’re going to have to face them.”

She nodded. “I know. Will you be there with me?”

“Yes, of course, baby doll.”

“Can you do something for me now?”

“Anything. What do you need?”

“Just...just hold me.”

“As long as you need me too,” he responded and got comfortable, taking his jacket and boots off. He laid down on his side and pulled her in close, wrapping his arm around her waist. “How’s this?”

“Perfect,” she whispered. 

“When was the last time you ate?” he asked her, thumb rubbing her stomach.

“Two days?” she asked, rather than state. “I don’t know. I kind of lost track.”

“Okay, what do you say we get some food in you and get you in the shower?” he asked. “Some food and a fresh shower always helps me feel better.”

“Is this your way of telling me I stink?” she joked.

He chuckled. “You know me so well.”

“Steven Hyde...” she warned.

“Yes, doll?”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

Let me know what you think! I’m always open to requests! 

[baron-alexbarnes]

Lee Bodecker x reader (part 6 in english)

Masterlist (in english)

Masterlist (in french/en français)

Part 5/ Part 7

Paring: Lee Bodecker x reader

Rating: description of domestic violence

A/N : So i'm so sorry for mistakes.I don't reread much because I don't really have time with my classes but I'm going to proofread the chapters this weekend. And I know the cell phone wasn't invented yet at that point in the story but I thought it was more practical. Otherwise, I've already written 14 chapters and I think I'll write 2 or 3 more chapters after that and maybe do a season 2 if you like it

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"I have enough rooms" "Where do you live to have three rooms? " She scratched the back of her neck. "I only have two, but... They are brothers, they can sleep together! "She was sitting down. "And you're counting on protecting them? "Yes" she had one leg over the other. Looking at him with determination "I'm coming with you" she raised her hands in the air for a few seconds and let them fall back on her legs. "Well, let's go" he walked out of the office, followed by [Y/N]. "The boys were still sitting. Aaron was asleep. In his brother's arms. Lee looked at the two children.

-

Lee was still upset with [Y/N]. And she could feel it. Nobody spoke. Anyway, she had a headache. She put her head against the window, but regretted it, because because of the bumps in the road, it was pressing on her wound. So she put her head on his shoulder. Lee immediately began to relax. His anger had dissipated a little, but it was still there. When he arrived at [Y/N]. She was sleeping on him. He stayed like that for a while. Enjoy. He thought that if he finally said what he felt then he could protect her. But if he told her... She would be in danger with him. It was contained that these tantrums were often too strong, but he couldn't help it.

-

"It's only 11 o'clock" Lee looked at [Y/N]. "We have to work" completed the Sheriff. She shook her head. "You have to work. I'm on vacation" he looked at her "Will you leave the investigation to me? "She looked up, "I'll try the way of the children, find another one" he sighed and let her go to the children. She put her hand on the shoulder of the big brother. We have to go. "He nodded and [Y/N] picked up his brother. "Let's go" Charles stood next to her. "Is my brother safe with you" she nodded "You can trust me" He nodded and looked behind him. "I can stay here, I want to help the sheriff." She looked at the door where Lee had gone. And she nodded. "He smiled and took it. [Y/N] went to the sheriff's office. "What's wrong with you now? " "Charles wants to stay with you" he looked up surprised "Why?" "To help you" Lee nodded. "Yeah, but who's not staying in my way" she stood there smiling "What now? "She shook her head. "Nothing" she left to check on the kids. "You can go" "Thank you very much" she took her brother back and he ran off.

-

Lee was sitting at his desk. Talking with Charles, "So this man was dressed in black. Long hair. And his eyes? "The boy thought, "Blue! Well... Blue-green" Lee noted. "You told me he was six feet tall" "Yeah, he was tall but he wasn't a giant" he nodded "So we can take the Hulk off the list" Charles laughed. "Y/N] is that your girlfriend? "He looked at the young man "No" "Then your wife?" "We're childhood friends... Well, friend is a big word." The boy reached for a book in the library. "You look at her the way my father looked at my mother" "Which is? "Love, but with a lot of anger. My father will never admit it... But he really loved my mother, he could have done anything for her, but she was not to be disobeyed" "Otherwise what?" Lee rested her legs on her desk "She would end up strangled against the wall. He promised me he wouldn't hurt any woman." The sheriff bowed his head. "What do you think? The boy put the open book down on his legs. "If you really love a person. You trust them! You don't have to strangle them for something they're not responsible for or even for not answering their cell phone once. Lee was shocked by Charles' wisdom. How he wished he could be like him. "You know... I had a neighbor my age. My dad always pushed me toward him, because he said, 'The more people you know, the more people will like you. The more people you know, the more people will like you. From there, you can do anything," but he was violent. And one day he told me that his father had told him to hammer a nail in when he got mad. He managed to fill a whole board in a week" "and that calmed her down? "Lee was like, interested in the boy. He's all about if he's not. He got everything he didn't get. "Yeah, last week he hadn't driven any nails. He was proud as he showed me the new board" he smiled "I don't want to go back there" The Sheriff frowned "Why?" The teenager sighed "Everyone was so... "Don't do this, God won't accept you" that it caused Aaron a lot of doubt. Now he's all I have. If I lost him" Charles shed a tear "I have to be strong for him" Lee smiled "You know... My mother always said, "A man who cries is not shameful, it's even touching" I never cried because of what they say. As they say that men must be strong" Charles smiles "We look alike"

-

Y/N] had arrived home. She took Aaron in her arms and opened her front door with some difficulty. She put her keys on the kitchen bar and laid the child on the couch. She grabbed some clean sheets she could find and made the bed for the two children to share. Then she began to think. If Lee would be here... He's going to sleep here. So he'll take her bed. She sighed at the thought of sleeping on the couch. It's not very welcoming to ask your guest to sleep on your couch. Especially since we're talking about Bodecker. She shook her head. And finished the bed. Then she went to her room and put away the files she was working on. Made her bed. And went downstairs. Looked over at her couch, but Aaron was gone. "Aaron?" She figured he'd gone to the bathroom or maybe he was thirsty? He could have asked her. "Aaron?" She moved closer. And [Y/N] saw the door open. She rushed over when she saw him sitting on the stairs "oh you're here" he nodded and she gave him a hug "I didn't mean to worry you, I'm sorry" she shook her head "it's okay" he looked ahead "it looks cool your house" "it was my childhood home. I had a lot of fun here, there's even a pond in the back. "He looked at her with a smile. "My house was simple. There was just a small garden" he lowered his head "I hope you find a good family with a good garden" she smiled sorry for him. Her head jerked up, "You... Can't you adopt me? Please! I'll do the housework and anything else you want! Charles can go shopping, and even drive me to school. We won't be a bother to you and your husband" "I'm sorry, Aaron, but I'm just passing through here, I'll be leaving soon. I can't, you keep. And I don't have a husband" She smiled, but he looked so disappointed, it broke her heart. "The Sheriff is not your husband?" She blushed and shook her head "what a funny idea. Of course not."

[leilabeaux]

In My Sights

Masterlist

Pairing: Assassin Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 2026

Summary: When Ivar’s contracted kill is taken out right in front of his eyes, he didn’t expect it to be at the hands of an old friend.

Warnings: Schmut, Oral (Male receiving)

Author’s Note: This is a oneshot assassin AU. I say oneshot loosely because I have a tendency to just build a whole universe in my head and then boom, I get my hopes set on writing a whole series! So for now I will say no guarantees on a second part.

----

Drops of water had been tapping Ivar’s shoulder for the last hour but all he could do was breathe through his annoyance as he kept his scope sighted on the interior of the penthouse suite. He should have accounted for any potential inconveniences when he decided that the under construction high rise had the best vantage point with its lack of walls. Not much he could do now, even the slightest movement could result in him losing the Mark. He was at least grateful that the water was nowhere near his rifle.

He usually preferred a more hands-on approach when it came to eliminating a target. There was just something he loved about watching the life go out of someone’s eyes up close and personal but, unfortunately, this one was hard to get alone. Believe him, Ivar had spent a good month trying to find the best place to eliminate him without raising any questions. The only option was to sit patiently in the empty building until it was clear to make his move.

Although he was perfectly centered in Ivar’s crosshairs, it would be too risky to take the shot now as he was in the middle of his third lapdance, surrounded by his fellow associates and friends who were also in attendance of the bachelor party.

“Thank the gods,” he whispered to himself when the Mark sat up, took the scantily clad dancer’s hand, and led her to the privacy of the master bedroom. The woman’s back was facing Ivar as she climbed onto the man’s lap and leaned down to give him a kiss, her long red hair swaying back and forth when she began to grind herself against him. 

He was fully prepared to pull the trigger as soon as her head was out of the way when the man started convulsing. The dancer carefully came to her feet and slowly combed her fingers through her hair, watching him grab at his throat as if he was struggling to breathe. Her calm stance turned into something more panicked when she opened the door and ran out of the room. Cursing at himself, Ivar wished he took the time to install some bugs in the suite so he could hear what the hell was going on.

Out of curiosity, he kept his scope centered on the dancer as all the party attendees rushed into the bedroom. Watching as she struggled to pull her coat on, he could tell from the shaking of her shoulders that she had to be crying. The redhead turned around to face the window and suddenly Ivar was looking at your face.

He could only clench his jaw as he watched you wipe the fake tears from your now smiling face and blew a kiss in his direction, giving him a mischievous wave before heading toward the exit. “Fuck!”

----

Ivar had waited around at the warehouse and watched as the Mark was zipped up into a body bag. Missing out on a nearly half million payday from what should have been an easy hit had really soured his mood and had him ready to get back home.

It was a few hours later when Ivar finally made it back to his motel room. Though in his personal life he preferred more luxurious accommodations because a son of Ragnar Lothbrok deserved only the best but when it came to his work, the more rundown the motel was the better. He found that people occupying such establishments kept to themselves and asked no questions.

As he unlocked the door and stepped into the dark room, he had an eerie feeling that he wasn’t alone. A creaking sound had him throwing his dagger into the corner before he quickly turned on the lights. You sat with your legs crossed in the weathered armchair looking completely unbothered by the fact that his weapon had landed only one inch away from your jeweled ear. 

Although you had ditched the red wig and your hair was now back to its natural state, you still stuck out like a sore thumb in the outdated room. You were dressed in a white tailored pantsuit with a hint of a red laced bra showing, the same red that colored the soles of your stilettos. Ivar didn’t know a lot about fashion but he was sure your whole outfit cost more than it would to rent the room out for the next year.

You grinned as you looked him up and down, “Long time no see, handsome.”

Setting his crutch next to the dresser, he went to work unpacking all his weapons from his backpack, ignoring you in the process. He was trying his hardest to seem like he wasn’t shocked over your sudden appearance after not seeing or hearing from you the past seven months. He looked up at the mirror to see you pout before you stood up to walk over to him.

“I’ve missed you. Did you miss me?,” you softly asked. Pressing your cheek against his back as you hugged him from behind, you trailed your hand from his chest down to his waistband, “Oh, Mister Lothbrok, is that a gun in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” you asked before pulling out the beretta from its holster and feigning disappointment, “Darn, it’s a gun again!”

With such quickness, Ivar ripped the gun from your hand and had you backed up against the wall. He glared down on you as he placed it on the dresser.

“Uh-oh, I must be in trouble. That one was always sure to get a laugh,” You smirked.

His face loomed over yours while his hands wrapped around your neck, slowly tightening his hold, “There’s nothing fucking funny. If you missed me so much, you could have called. You wasted a whole month of recon I did on that hit!”

“Baby, please don’t be mad at me.” Fear in your eyes as you struggled to get the words out. At first he thought you were crying until a smile broke out across your face. You weren’t crying, you were laughing, “I can’t help that I’m better than you.”

He pushed you hard against the wall after letting you go. He should have known better. You were trained well enough to get out of the most complicated of holds. You’d probably have him down on the floor if you thought you were in any true danger. Just as he was about to step away, you grabbed his shirt to keep him close.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it but I really am sorry for taking away your kill,” You began to leave kisses up his neck and to his jaw, enjoying the advantage of the extra inches your heels gave you. “Let me make it up to you.”

“You’re going to give me half of the money?”, he asked as he unbuttoned your blazer and slid it off your shoulders.

You snorted, “Hell no, I earned it fair and square. It’s not like you need it anyway.” Switching places with him, you pushed him back against the wall and stroked his semi-hard dick through his pants, “I had something else in mind.”

Ivar leaned down to kiss you deeply, swallowing your moans as he massaged your breast, his fingers brushing against your nipple. His tongue danced against yours while you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, taking care to remove the empty holster and place it next to the gun on the dresser. You pushed down his pants as much as his braces would allow so you could wrap your hand around him and give him a long, hard stroke. Leaning his head back against the wall, he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into your grip.

You giggled against him, your warm breath tickling his neck, “I guess you really did miss me.” You pressed one small kiss under his chin before you lowered yourself down onto your knees.

You continued to slowly stroke his shaft up and down as you took his head into your mouth, circling your tongue around it. He cursed out loud and thrusted his hips, impatient and desperate to have you take him in fully. Your long nails clawed around his hips when he did this. Just as in your professional life, you hated being rushed through a job.

Ivar felt like melting into the wall as you slowly twisted your hand down his dick while taking more of him into your wet mouth. He tangled his hand into your hair, trying to restrain himself from pushing in deeper again after feeling your moans vibrate around him. Though his eyes were shut closed, he knew that you already had your other hand in your panties, busy circling your finger around your clit.

You popped him out of your mouth but continued stroking, “Still mad at me, baby?” You looked up at him through your lashes while you pressed soft open mouth kisses over the crescent indentions you left on his hips.

“Are you going to tell me how you killed this one?,” he managed to get out before letting out a string of curses when you took him by surprise and quickly took him deep into your mouth, your tongue flicking against his balls. If you were ever going to give him an actual answer about your methods, this would be the best time. He probably couldn’t even remember his name right now. 

You took a quick gasp of air as you pulled away from him again. “I’m sorry, my mother told me that it’s rude to talk with your mouth full.” That got a laugh out of him. “Now let your girl work.”

—-

It was a small ray of light shining into his eyes that woke Ivar from his deep slumber. Rolling over to escape the brightness, he hissed when his back met the mattress. He was still tender from where you dug your nails in, holding onto him tight, pleading for him not to stop as he fucked you into the mattress. He grinned to himself while blindly reaching out to you, hoping to get you under him one last time before check out time but all he got was the cool side of the bed. 

Sitting up, he looked around and saw your clothes that he remembered throwing across the room was now gone. Just like with all your kills, there was no sign of you left anywhere if he didn’t count the taste of you still lingering in his mouth.

He didn’t know why he thought it would be different this time. Maybe he hoped you’d want to make up for the lost time and actually be there when he woke for once.

Just as he was about to lie back down, he noticed the brown case near the foot of the bed. He reached over to bring it closer to him, smoothing his hand over the top. It looked like it was an antique and made with Italian leather, he was sure it wasn’t cheap and that whatever was inside of it wasn’t going to be any less expensive. He sighed, thinking that you were due for another lecture about your spending.

He undid the leather straps holding it closed, curious what was inside. It was too small to house a rifle or a shotgun and too big for a knife. He opened the case to find a throwing axe surrounded by the plush red velvet lining. Running his hand over the axe head and then down the rosewood handle, it appeared to be forged with great care. He didn’t want to think about how much you spent on this gift but he couldn’t deny that you had a good eye for exceptionally crafted weapons.

Noticing a piece of paper tucked underneath the blade, he unfolded it and smiled at the familiar scrawl.

“A proper Viking axe for the only man who can fuck me like a heathen. Maybe you’ll have better luck hitting me next time.”

Next time. There was hope for him. As long as she kept her damned hands off his next target.

----

Endnotes: I think the agent assigned to monitor my activity was probably on high alert for a second there as I was searching about sniper rifles, where to keep daggers for easy access, and who picks up dead bodies. I figured searching for how much an assassin makes for each kill would be a step to far though...

----

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius​

[frangipanidownunder]

So you simply can't post a list of kiss prompts and expect me NOT to ask you for one. Do you not even KNOW me? Please consider a ficlet (or more!) for #11-Reunion kiss. But maybe pre-breakup. A reunion after being apart for some other reason? This could easily be combined with another kind of kiss - first, shy, etc. (And I am holding my breath for your maid/master AU!) Fic is Medicine Anon

A Lifetime Ago: Fic

Fat blossoms, serrated petals, marshmallow pink, weighted the branches on the tree in the courtyard of her block. Sun heated the top of her head, lifting the hair from her scalp, and the interior of the car smelled of warm leather and dust. Motes danced as she laid her jacket on the passenger seat. 

When Mulder got in, he moved the jacket. Of course. She’d become so used to driving alone. More dust sparkled in the shaft of sunlight that shot through the glass. A glitter welcome party. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, lost in the weird sense of the strange and familiar, the old and the new. He looked at her oddly. 

It made her blush, the intensity of his scrutiny. But the house looked pretty in the rearview mirror. Climbing vines over the fence, vivid green leaves bushy on the trees and shrubs. She could see a row of stakes just by the shed.

“Tomatoes?” she asked, nodding over her shoulder.

“Dirty Girl, Super Snow White and Ruby Gold.”

She drove over the gravel towards the road. “Sounds like one of those movies you used to watch.”

His chuckle was chesty, and she caught his full smile out the corner of her eye. He looked well. He looked good. He’d been looking better each time she’d seen him over the past few months, as though he’d turned some corner in his mind and life was no longer the bitter drag it had been. If tomato plants with exotic names were the key to this change, she’d take that over Prozac and desperate, begging midnight phone calls.

Years before she had loved those quiet, murmured conversations. When they meant connection, trust. But the FBI was a lifetime, a lost child and a break-up ago. Now, phone calls were made in office hours, more recently, she realised, when she was already on her way to see him.

“Where are we going again?” he asked, winding the window down and resting an elbow on the sill. “I admit I was surprised when you called. It kind of felt like you were asking me on a date.” He looked across at her and the fresh blast of air saved her from blushing again. “Is this a date?”

Chuffing, she fixed her eyes on the road. “When was the last time you went out, Mulder?”

“I go out,” he said, indignant. 

She snorted. “Running at three in the morning does not constitute going out.” 

“I’ve become friendly with the guy at the nursery.”

“Friendly?”

“Don’t give me that look. I can be friendly, Scully.” She remembered his friendly as either empathetic, nerdy or flirty.  “He orders heirloom produce for me, teaches me about companion plants and has a fascination for UFOs. Funny how life works out, huh?”

“Huh,” she said. Nerdy.

A colleague at the hospital had married at the winery last fall and Scully had been struck by the setting, the ambience. Now she looked around and saw its precise beauty, high vaulted ceiling, wide landscapes on the silvery walls, starched white linen, gold embossed menus, cut crystalware. It was over the top. God, she’d misjudged this. Why didn’t she just go for Clint’s Diner where the talking point was the font used to spell the name, so that the L and the I were joined to form what looked like a U. Asking for the cunt’s special was Mulder’s favourite joke.  Even the Italian bistro with the red and white checked plastic tablecloths and fake tealights in jam jars would have been a better choice.

“So it is a date,” he said, but behind his broad grin there was a look of trepidation. He went to hook his thumbs in his belt loops but he wasn’t wearing shitty jeans. Instead, his fist curled into his pants pocket and he stood, uncharacteristically insignificant, in the magnificent room.

Guilt flared in her chest. Mulder had been a recluse for years, pummelling his chest with his self-hatred and lacing all their interactions with accusations and blame, and now, because he was growing fucking tomatoes, she’d decided he could cope with a three-course degustation lunch and two glasses of Pinot Gris?“This is not what I…” But she was cut off by the Maitre D who swept over and checked the booking. “Dr Scully, yes, that’s right.” Why had she chosen that salutation when she called. It made it sound like a business lunch.

Their table was on the terrace under heavy-scented purple wisteria. The waiter unflapped serviettes like he was cracking a whip. He placed glasses, crockery and cutlery with the precision required for surgery. Mulder remained quiet the entire time, but regarded her, not the waiter. His expression softened when the waiter left and dappled light filtered over his skin.

“This is not what I expected, Scully. But it’s a step up from chilli dogs and Shiner Bock.”

Ugh. Now she was craving an evening on the couch watching him watching the game. “I’m sorry, Mulder. This feels all wrong.”

“Hey,” he said, leaning forward, sliding his hand over the table top, but careful to leave his fingers just an inch from hers. “It’s fine. I kind of love being wined and dined. It makes me feel special.” His fingers crept closer, close enough for her to see the white fleck on his left index nail, the light abrasion on his ring finger knuckle, close enough to remember what those elegant digits used to do to her.“As long as you don’t expect me to put out, Scully.” He grinned suddenly. “You should know up front that I’m not that easy.”

No, she thought, you’re not. We were never easy, you and me. She laughed at his joke anyway, his smile urged her to indulge him. The waiter brought the wine and Mulder sniffed, swirled and sipped it before giving it his approval. They chose entrees and mains and he chatted amiably, telling stories about the nursery dude and his collection of blurry photos of cigar-shaped crafts.

“I hadn’t the heart to tell him it was all BS, Scully. Why burst his bubble? He gets a lot of joy out of it.” Ah, empathy.

“And you get free seeds. Sounds like a fair exchange.”

He sat back, arms behind his head, before realising where he was and sitting upright, hands on his lap, much more respectable. “I’ve missed you,” he said, out of nowhere. “But this was nice. Unexpectedly so. A nice date, if I may be so bold as to describe it so, Doc.”

Flirty. She chuffed, cheeks aflame. The wine, she thought. It was always the wine. “It’s good to see you so relaxed, Mulder. It’s been a while.”

“Was I ever relaxed, Scully?” he asked, genuinely. “I look back now and see how tightly coiled I was. Have been.” His head bobbed down, but his eyes lifted to hers. “Am.”

The first time she visited him after she left, he was cowering under the kitchen table, shards of glass and ceramic scattered across the floor. He didn’t speak for an hour. She sat at a chair six feet away from him, listening to his tight sobs, watching his shoulders bunch, while she embraced her old friend, guilt.

“You’ve been through a lot, Mulder. We both have. It’s been a difficult…”

“Life?” he supplied.

“I was going to say time, but yeah. That too.” She laughed and so did he. His fingers edged forward again, touching hers this time. Heat sparked. He felt it too, he almost recoiled in shock, but pressed on, covering her hand with his. He clasped it gently, lifted it, nuzzled her knuckles, eyes closed so she could admire the length of his lashes and the furrow between his brows. A lifetime of pain in two creases. She had an urge to kiss them, run her tongue along the downy lines of them, taste his familiar skin.

“We should go,” she said, after a time. 

He held the door open for her and stooped inside the car, dazzling her with his smile. “Just remember, I don’t go all the way on first dates.”

“What about first base?” she said, after he’d already shut the door.

They drove back, listening to an 80s radio station that Mulder found with ease. He belted out Living on a Prayer and other big ballads, air guitar and all. She smiled all the way to the house. When she parked, Sinead O’Connor’s singular voice introduced Nothing Compares 2 U. She went to turn the radio off but he held her wrist.

“I love this song,” he said. “Prince’s masterful lyrics. And that video clip.”

“It was a powerful statement,” she replied and let his fingers curl around hers. 

“I really did enjoy this, Scully. Going out, you know, where people are…out there. It’s hard sometimes. I…don’t…I haven’t done it often because it feels like I’m a trespasser, that I don’t belong.”

“You never did. We never did, Mulder. We were always on the outer.”

“But with you,” he said, snugging her single hand in both of his. “I always felt braver in company.”

Heat spread in her chest, her heart pinged. She didn’t know what to say. Literally no words formed, despite her mouth falling open. Tears burnt at her eyes but she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. 

“What about that first base, Scully?” His smile was a little hopeful, a lot wobbly.

She nodded. He captured her open lips and closed them between his. It was strange and familiar, old and new again. Sparkles glittered behind her eyes, just like those dust motes. When was that? Just a few hours ago? Surely not. That glitter welcome party was a lifetime ago.

[horansqueen]

AM Conversations : chapter 49

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

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

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.4k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- if you want to be notified when this is updated, please message me or leave a comment!

- note for this chapter: i would love your comments on this chapter. im planning the ending of this and its coming soon so comments and opinions are GREATLY appreciated, thank you!

Only one request and tbh i didnt make it ‘public’ just in a public place i hope its ok :)

Chapter 49 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

Following Niall for all his radio interviews turned out to be a lot of fun. He was funny and interesting and it was no surprise to me that everyone was endeared by him. I would end up with my head tilted, a big smile on my face and hearts in my eyes when I looked at him, even if I had known him for decades, but I was happy everyone saw in him what I've always seen. He used to be a bit hidden when he was in One Direction but as a solo artist, he shined more than I could explain and it made me so happy that everyone could finally see how talented he was.

"So Niall you've been very open about your current relationship and after i've made my research, I read that your girlfriend is actually your childhood best friend?"

I held my breath, trying to keep my calm but I was suddenly scared that my facial expression was betraying me. That woman was gorgeous with her long legs, her dark hair and her big eyes. She bent slightly and I couldn't help but glance down at her cleavage like pretty much everyone in the room. I swallowed hard and let my eyes move back to Niall who sent her a smile.

"She is, actually. We've been best friends for as long as I can remember." he shook his head slightly and shrugged, a smile still on his face. "I don't know what I'd do without her."

"We've seen you with famous girls like Maya Greenberg or Heidi Sheppard, why her?" she frowned and tilted her head and I felt my heart jump in my chest again.

I hadn't thought about Heidi or Maya in a long time but now that they were mentioned, something twisted in my stomach and I had a hard time swallowing. Thinking that Niall had compared me to them was hurtful and now I knew pretty much everyone else would compare me to them, too, and it was even worse.

I looked at Niall raise his eyebrows at her, a bit surprised by the question or it seemed, and the words that came out of his mouth changed everything.

"Wow, that's the easiest question i've ever had to answer." he chuckled, shaking his head. "Why her? Because I love her. That's why."

The woman sent him a smile and that's when I realized she hadn't acknowledged me at all. In fact, she had ignored me from the beginning and although I didn't really care, it did feel sort of odd at this moment.

I sighed subtly when the subject turned to something else than me and when everything was over, I got up and walked closer to the door to wait for my boyfriend. I took my phone and answered a few text messages, leaning against the door frame, but when I looked up from something funny Louis had sent me, I lost my smile. I couldn't remember her name, I was in shock, but she had her hand on Niall's arm and the way she was looking at him made my heart drop in my chest. Now I knew why she had asked him some questions about me but the fact that she was flirting with him right in front of my face while being totally aware of it made me feel like shit. Was I disposable to the point where anyone thought he would cheat on me or get rid of me for any reason?

I stood straight, my eyes roaming from my boyfriend's smile to her hand sliding gently on his arm and when he handed her his phone, my breath caught in my throat. She typed something quickly before giving it back to him and tilted her head, squeezing his arm before letting him go. My eyes dropped back to my phone when he turned my way and I waited until he was close to me to look up. I held my breath again when I noticed she was waving at him and he raised his hand before putting both in his pockets.

"Ready to leave?"

"Did that just happen right in front of my face?"

He glanced back and then turned to me again.

"Not here." he let out in a low tone, making me close my eyes.

We walked out of the room and reached the hall but we remained silent and he brought me to the stairs instead to take the elevator. I walked down a few and finally turned to him, shaking my head.

"Why did you flirt back? You said you didn't do that anymore!"

"I didn't-"

"Don't lie!" I cut him, feeling tears reach my eyes, unsure if they were of pain or anger. "I saw you! She put her number in your phone? I was right there and she knew it!"

"Okay, fine, i'm sorry!" he let out, a bit mad. "I was just a bit taken aback, I didn't expect that and I just... I thought I would just play dumb and then do nothing about it."

I stared at him, my heart aching so bad in my chest as I tried not to cry, and I started pulling on the fabric of my shirt. This situation was horrible and did nothing good to my self-esteem, I knew it.

"You think she's pretty? Be honest."

He sighed and closed his eyes as I pressed my lips together.

"Yes, Liv, she's pretty, but-"

"Prettier than me?" I quickly added, cutting him again.

"No one is prettier than you." he pointed out. "So no."

My eyes roamed on him and I sniffed, his words once again making me feel better but not completely reassured. I took a step closer and licked my lips again.

"If we weren't dating would you-"

"Please Olivia, i'm begging you, don't go there."

And just like that, the pain was back. I swallowed hard, feeling myself tear up, but I gave up and nodded. It was an unfair question, I knew it. If we weren't dating, he would be able to see whoever he wanted and call any girl he found interesting and those 'what if's would only end up hurting me anyway. I just wasn't sure of how he felt. Did he feel trapped with me? Was I stopping him from living his life as a famous and talented man fully?

"After all this time, you still don't trust me."

It was not a question, and the defeated tone he had used made me want to run away but I didn't. I stayed in front of him, staring at him, until he moved closer and wrapped his arms around my head, pulling me against him.

"I'm sorry, Niall, i'm so sorry."

He remained silent for a while and then sighed, leaning his cheek on top of my head as I gripped the back of his shirt like my life depended on it.

"No, it's okay. If I saw a guy flirt with you and put his number in your phone, i'd be pissed."

After hugging me tight against him for a while, he took his head away and i moved mine up to look at him. I didn't expect his lips roughly crushing against mine and my heart skipped a beat. He pushed me back until he could press me against the wall and my lips parted when his mouth reached for my neck.

"Are you sure you-" His hand slipped in my pants and panties and my eyes shot open when his warm finger slid between my legs. "Oh fuck."

"When I saw you put on your damn sweatpants on today I thought I was going to explode."

This time, I chuckled but bit my bottom lip when one of his fingers brushed against my clit. I slipped one of my hands in his hair and and my mouth found his ear. I started nibbling on it and he groaned against my neck.

"Why do you turn me on so bad in simple sweatpants?" he asked in a raspy voice. "I just want to pull them down and fuck you."

I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes.

"Do it."

He stopped his movements and pulled away, his eyes traveling on my face.

"Really? Here?"

I nodded quickly, feeling my heartbeats accelerate at the thought as one of his hands slipped inside my shirt to grab one of my breasts. I let out a short and low moan and his other hand reached for his pants. He undid his belt quickly and skillfully with the fingers of one hand before reaching for my waist. He turned me around roughly, pushing me against the wall and I placed my palms on the cold cement as i felt him pull on my pants. His hand reached between my legs and my eyes fluttered close as I felt his cock rub on my ass. Two of his fingers slid inside me and he groaned near my ear.

"You're already so wet, princess, is it because of me?"

I didn't have time to answer, I just held my breath as I felt him push his dick inside me and my fingers curled, making my nails scratch on the wall.

"Fuck, don't move."

Both his arms slithered around me, one reaching for my breasts and the other between my legs. He started fucking me hard and fast and I shut my eyes tighter as his lips brushed against my neck. My whole body was throbbing and from how hard he was fucking me and the way his fingers flicked against my clit, I knew I was not going to last very long.

"Oh my... god."

I felt his lips curl against my skin and a shiver crossed my whole body as he gripped my breast tighter. I had forgotten about the whole encounter with that girl, I didn't care about her giving him her number anymore... all that mattered was Niall's body pressed against mine and the low grunts he let out near my ear.

"I want to fill you with my cum so bad. I want to fucking own you."

His voice came to me in a whisper but he still managed to sound rough and dominating and that brought me close to an orgasm.

"You do, you own me."

"Yea? I want to cum inside you and know that it's dripping in your panties and down your legs until we get home."

My heart skipped a beat at the thought. It was so hot that it made me feel slightly dizzy and the fact that I would feel it for the rest of the day made me squirm slightly. He had an other interview planned and I knew that would stay on our minds for hours.

I wanted to beg him to do it but my body was throbbing so hard I couldn't talk. I started moving in rhythm with his thrusts, pushing my ass back against him and he started going quicker. It only took a few seconds before he pushed me hard against the wall. His movements became unsteady but surprisingly, he kept touching me for a few seconds until I felt an orgasm spread all over my body.

"Mm, fuck."

I started shaking against him as I felt him hold me tighter as he came and kept my eyes closed until we both came down from our highs. He let his lips brush on my shoulder before trailing small and soft kisses on my skin. It made me smile as I kept my eyes closed and tilted my head to give him better access. I didn't know if it was the post-orgasm ecstasy but I didn't seem to feel insecure anymore because of what had just happened. He let go of my breast and took his hand off my pants to wrap both his arms around my waist, hugging me tighter against him, his face still buried in my neck. I let my hands slide slowly on the wall and sighed, a sensation of well-being lingering inside me.

"I love you Liv."

"I love you too Ni-"

I didn't have time to finish talking and held my breath when I heard a sound. I felt his whole body tense behind me and at the exact same time, we moved away and pulled our pants up before rushing down the stairs. He held his arm out to me and I grabbed his fingers, letting out a laughter I didn't know I was holding. We only stopped running when we were outside and I started laughing even more, holding myself on my knees as I panted from the run.

"We almost got caught." I pointed out even if I knew he was aware. "That was close.”

"I know!" he chuckled, his lips forming a big smile. "Fucking hell."

"I never thought you were the type of man to take that kind of risks."

"I'm not." he laughed. "I mean I did before but not very often."

We stared at each other with a smile for a while but he finally moved closer and took me in a hug. I hugged him back, squeezing him as tight as I could against me and making him laugh again.

"Easy kid, I can't breathe."

I laughed and pulled away, tilting my head and sending him a fond smile. I hated when we fought and I knew most of the time, it was my fault, but I really wanted to change and start trusting him. I had to make an effort and I was going to do it.

I watched him grab his phone as we started walking to his car. I could feel his cum drip in my panties and I squirmed lightly, feeling my inner thighs throb at the thought but I didn't mention anything.

"What are you doing?" I ask as he grabbed his key in his pocket to unlock the car, his eyes still glued on his phone.

"Oh, just deleting some woman's phone number." he let out, glancing up at me with a soft smile. "I don't need to meet other girls, I'm already dating the love of my life."

                                                        ----

I glanced at the clock again and let out a sigh without really realizing it. Niall was late, as usual, and even if It was not uncommon these days, it was still bothering me. I grabbed my phone to check if I had a message for the second time in the last minute even if it would have been pretty much impossible to miss it. I looked back at the tv but I couldn't even remember the title of the movie or even the name of the main character. I felt stupid and a bit mad at myself. It felt like I couldn't function properly when Niall wasn't there and it was becoming ridiculous. I heard my phone and felt my heart jump in my chest as I grabbed it without looking at the called ID.

"Hello??" I asked happily, my eyebrows raised.

"Damn, love, I didn't know you'd be that happy to talk to me." Louis pointed out with a laugh. "You sound thrilled! Didn't know I had that effect on you."

I grimaced and leaned back against the couch again, bringing my feet up and letting out a sigh.

"Mmhm it's all you, Louis, I spend my life waiting for your call. Just a glimpse of your attention makes me euphoric."

He laughed again and I licked my lips. His laugh somehow always made me smile. Not a big happy smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Not me but Niall yea?" he added, a bit concerned. "You're waiting by the phone and glancing at the door every few seconds."

I looked down in shame even if he couldn't see me and shrugged a shoulder.

"Maybe."

"I know what it's like." he admitted after a few seconds of silence. "I did that for a while after El and I.. well, you know."

"Yea, i know." I whispered.

Niall and I weren't broken up, we still had each other, and at that exact moment, I felt like shit for the way I acted when Louis clearly had it worse. We remained in silence for a while but it didn't feel awkward. I was just happy he was there to keep me company.

"How about we go out?" he suddenly asked after a while.

"Out?"

"Yea! The night's young and we're both bored out of our minds!" he explained a bit too enthusiastically.

"More stressed than bored i'd say."

"Come on Liv, just a few drinks."

I closed my eyes and held my breath. It's not that I didn't want to go, it's just that I wanted to be there when Niall would come home. I wanted to spend as much time with him as I could since I felt like we barely did anything together anymore. I wanted nothing more than to cuddle him and do something normal like watch a movie and make out. And suddenly it hit me how dependent I was being. Niall was busy and it was alright, but it was also alright for me to do stuff, go out, and have fun. We were two separate people, and even if I felt like he was a part of me, it didn't mean that I couldn't do anything by myself.

"Alright, let me put pants on and a bit of make-up."

"And do something with your hair too, love, will you?." Louis joked before laughing.

"Twat."

                                 --

The music was loud and it smelled like weed and cheap perfume. It was crowded and I suddenly felt my heart twist in my chest until Louis searched for my hand and gripped it tight, leading me through the sea of bodies dancing, chatting or kissing. We found a table and I checked in the back pocket of my jeans to make sure my phone was there, It was the fifth time I was checking but it didn't matter. I put my phone on the table and stared at it a few seconds before Louis tapped the table a few times.

"Wine?"

"Beer is fine." I replied with a smile, loud enough for him to hear me.

He nodded and came back a few minutes later with enough beer for way more than two persons. My lips curled and I chuckled low.

"Did you invite your friends?"

"Yea they're supposed to be there soon." he explained, his eyes suddenly moving away from me. "There they are."

I knew most of them from meeting them at Louis' New Year's Eve party and we all started chatting and drinking. After a while, stress and sadness had left my body and I finally told myself that maybe this is what I needed but I couldn't help but think it would have been so much better if Niall was with me. I glanced at Louis who was in deep conversation with a pretty blonde and tried to hide a smile. Most of the time, he tried to hide how sad he was but with me, from time to time, he would say something about Eleanor that made me realize he never really forgot her or got over her. I couldn't pretend I knew how he felt but I could  understand the love he had for her, because it seemed to be very similar to the love I have for Niall.

At some point, the blonde haired girl got up and left and I just kicked Louis under the table before leaning against it with a big smile.

"She's hot! Are you gonna bring her back to your place?"

He frowned and sent me a smile, pretending he had no idea what I was talking about and it made me laugh. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was Louis, and seeing it happening right in front of my face was a gift. I knew she was interested too just by the way she was looking at him and I decided to let them have their discussion. When I finished my 6th beer (or was it 7th?), I got up but grabbed the table before chuckling. One of Louis' friends helped me find my balance again and I tilted my head, sending him a big smile before thanking him.

"Hey Liv, you okay?"

I turned to Louis when I heard his voice and glanced at the pretty girl who was getting up to leave.

"You stay with her." I whispered. "I'll take a cab!"

"No way you're going home by yourself."

"But she-"

"I got her number, it's cool." he explained. "Besides, Niall would kill me if he knew I left you for some random girl I barely knew."

"I bet you want to know her more, don't you?" I asked, tripping a bit over my words and making him laugh again.

I turned to her without waiting for Louis' answer and sent her a grin.

"He'll definitely call you, he just needs to bring me back to my boyfriend for now."

The girl smiled back at me and chuckled before Louis intertwined our arms together and brought me outside. I wasn't really drunk, just a bit tipsy, and when the cool air of the night hit my face, I sighed low.

"D'you think Niall and I are meant to be?" I finally asked after a few moments of silence.

"Can't believe you're asking me that."

Louis had let go of my arm and I pushed both my hands in my pockets as I looked up at the dark sky. Only a few stars were visible and it reminded me of a few weeks before, when Niall brought me to the lodge and played me his song under the stars. it didn't matter how cheesy it was, it was clearly impossible to forget a night like that. We quickly found a cab and he gave Niall's address before turning to me. I stared back at him and bit my bottom lip, not sure I should say what I was about to say next.

"I don't know anymore, I mean I thought you and El were meant to be, too."

"We are." Louis let out in a low and sad tone, his eyes looking up at the sky too. "I know we are. Just like you and Niall."

The ride was short and Louis decided to walk me to the front door after telling the cab to wait for him. I tried to unlock the door but realized it already was and I practically ran inside only to see Niall sitting on the couch. He turned to me and his face changed into an annoyed expression, making my heart jump in my chest.

"Niall!"

I moved away from Louis only to walk quickly to my boyfriend who got off the couch and looked down at me with a frown.

"Where the hell were you? I tried to call you about 10 times!"

"Sorry mate," Louis let out, raising his nose up as he walked closer to us. "She kept looking at her phone so I sort of hid it."

He searched through his pockets and handed me my phone. My lips parted slightly and I grabbed it before turning to my boyfriend.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd be home early, if I had known I would have stayed."

We stared at each other intensely and I really didn't know how he felt. Most of the time, I could easily read him and he could read me too but today was different.

"Imma leave guys, taxi's waiting for me."

We told him goodnight and when the door closed behind him, I shook my head.

"Why do you seem... angry?"

"Olivia, I literally decided to come back home early for you." he pointed out a bit louder. "And you weren't even there!"

I frowned and shook my head again, taking a step back.

"What are you saying exactly, Niall? Because i've been spending days and evenings here, waiting for you. The one night I decide to go out and have fun instead of wait and fall asleep on the couch, you come back early. Well i'm sorry, I didn't know. I couldn't have guessed because i've been falling asleep, alone in bed or on this damn couch for weeks now. And now you're blaming me for it?"

His face changed and he sighed.

"I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls. I seriously forgot about my phone after my third beer." I added, letting my shoulders fall. "But I had a good time, and I needed it."

"Okay, you're right." he sighed again but louder this time. "Of course I don't want you to wait for me here and weep, I'm just disappointed that we didn't get to spend the evening together."

I nodded slowly. "Me too, Nee." I admitted in a very low tone, trying not to let tears fall. "We should get in bed and talk for at least an hour, what do you say? You can tell me about the songs you're writing at the moment and I'll tell you about Louis' new crush."

With a chuckle, he nodded. "I like that idea. I feel like we haven't had a proper conversation in months."

I smiled at him and kept quiet for a while before my lips curled more and I chuckled.

"First one in the room wins!" I let out, jumping up on his couch to walk past him.

I threw myself in the hall but I could feel him very close to me and when his arms wrapped around my waist, I let out a short scream. He pulled me up and I laughed again as he pulled us in his room, walking backwards to be sure he was the first one inside.

"I won!"

"You cheated!"

"Look who's talking!"

He put me back down, grabbing one of my hands and making me twirl around a few times. I ended up facing him and chuckled, feeling a bit dizzy from the spin.

"Fuck I miss you."

His words made something stir in my stomach. It felt good to know he missed me too because sometimes, I doubted it. He was busy, it's not like he really had time to think about me. I, however, spent most of my time thinking about him.

"I miss you too, Niall." I admitted in a whisper. "So fucking much."

[kittinoir]

Phantoms Ch. 1

Read on Ao3

“I know my actions in the past have hurt many of you. I understand forgiveness may be asking too much. All I’m asking for is a chance to prove to you, my beloved city, that I’ve made a change, and for the opportunity to regain your trust.”

Marinette bit her lip as Chloe Bourgeois’s voice on-screen was drowned out by the wave of reporters shouting questions, but Queen Bee seemed unphased by the crowd. Instead of panicking as Marinette would have done, she instead simply waved once, loosed her yo-yo, and left the press-conference. Only when her teammate was safely gone did Marinette release the breath she’d been holding.

“Say what you will about the girl, but she knows how to handle a crowd,” Alya said. She leaned back on Marinette’s chaise, lowering her phone to her lap as the video ended. Their completed homework lay scattered around them - the price for Miraculous-related new and Marinette’s tried-and-true study technique.

“She’s always had a tough shell,” Marinette said with a begrudging half-smile. “But I’m beginning to see it’s hiding a soft heart.”

Marinette had offered “Ladybug’s” support at that same conference, but Chloe had shot her down, saying her mistakes were hers alone, and she would win back the cities trust on her own merit, not Ladybug’s endorsement. Marinette hadn’t insisted - she didn’t know how to be friends with this girl, but she found she was beginning to like her a little more.

And of course, she owed her a debt she wasn’t sure she could ever repay: her memories after she’d given up the Miracle box in order to protect her partner.

And, incidentally, the love of her life.

The truth of Adrien’s identity still rocked through her even now, just over a week after rediscovering it. It wasn’t as though it shocked her whenever he made mention of things only Chat Noir would know; more so specific events jumped out at her, things she’d done with Chat Noir that she was continually realizing she’d actually done with Adrien.

But they hadn’t talked about any of it. Not yet at least anyway. Not what happened before, and  especially not what happened during the time she’d given up being Ladybug. Chat Noir had always been so vocal about his feelings for Ladybug, but Adrien hadn’t said anything about them now that he knew it was her behind the mask. Part of her wanted to ask him about it, but the part of her that had always kept her from confessing to him in the first place was terrified of the answer - terrified that she’d done something unforgivable and irreparable in giving up the Miracle box and disappearing on him, no matter how good her intentions had been or how the wires had gotten crossed.

And so she was left to agonize over what had gone from a crush to full-blown love. She’d thought she’d had feelings before; they were nothing compared to the realization that her two favourite people in the world were actually the same person. It had been devastating in the best possible way - and the worst.

“I think Chat Noir and I are going to stop by on patrol tonight,” Marinette said, glancing at the clock. Her stomach flip-flopped in anticipation. “Check in on the new spokesmodel of our team, see how she’s doing.”

“Sure you don’t want Rena Rouge and Carapace along?” Alya asked. Her eyes practically glittered as she fingered the Miraculous around her neck.

“You know training doesn’t start until next week,” Marinette said with a grin. “Besides, you guys have Tuesday morning.” A usually quiet time when Hawkmoth was either busy or no one had gotten upset enough to be akumatized yet. “Give it a few weeks and you’ll be begging to give that back to me.”

“As if, girl,” Alya laughed, slipping her phone into her bag. “You’re stuck with me.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Marinette teased, but her giggle faded as she finally broached the subject of the Ladyblog. “Al, are you sure you’re ok running interference for the team? I know how important your journalistic integrity is to you.”

But Alya firmly nodded. “Absolutely. I think you were right about how not knowing each others’ identities is risker than knowing them, but the less the public knows, the safer we’ll all be. I have a special ready to go for 8pm speculating about the new team members and a follow up tomorrow night of yet another round of Chat Noir specs. Adrien actually hasn’t been mentioned this time.”

Alarm bells went off in Marinette’s head. “But he has before?”

Another nod. “I thought it was crazy at the time, but he’s a bit of a celebrity, so I wasn’t totally surprised. Knowing him personally, I never would have thought it was him.”

“That’s…I guess I bit of a relief,” Marinette said, laying a hand over her pounding heart. “And…me…?”

“Not even once, girl,” Alya said. “Like I said, Adrien’s a celebrity who shares a few traits with the hero; I’m pretty sure some fan girls wanted it to be him more than they actually believed it was him. After all, who wouldn’t want to get rescued by a handsome teen model?”

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed, a blush creeping over her cheeks. “I mean no! I mean he’s…he’s just Chat Noir.”

Alya quirked an eyebrow and smirked. “So you’re over him then?”

“I…” Marientte trailed off, unable to even begin to organize her thoughts. How could she explain that the boy she thought she’d been in love with had turned out to be more selfless, sweet, funny, and brave than she’d ever imagined he could be? That she didn’t think she’d ever get over him, ever. That if soulmates really did exist, that he was hers - and that she lay awake at night in fear of a future she thought she’d averted. “No,” she said simply. “No, I’m not over him.”

“Then what are you waiting for, girl?” Alya demanded with a grin. “Everyone knows Chat Noir’s in love with Ladybug - which means Adrien’s in love with <em>you</em>! Why haven’t you gotten your guy?”

“Lots of reasons,” Marinette said with her best attempt at a smile and an eye roll. She couldn’t tell anyone about the horrific future she’d seen, not ever, for risk of altering their path agaiin; instead she gave her friend a version of the truth - one of the many reasons she hadn’t pursued her crush. “I might be Ladybug, but I’m also still Marinette. I still can’t think straight around him.”

Ok, that was a total lie. Talking to Adrien had been easy for some time now, even before she knew who he was - or…no. Her memories jumbled and rearranged themselves, the old mixing back in with the new, until she realized it wasn’t until after she’d discovered Adrien was Chat Noir the first time that she’d been comfortable around him. Apparently memories came and went but the heart was less easily convinced than the mind.

“Marinette? Before you take off to meet up with your dream guy, I…I kind of also wanted to apologize,” Alya said abruptly, bringing Marinette back to the present. “I’ve been thinking about it for some time now, and I didn’t know really how to bring it up, but it’s silly to keep waiting for the right moment. I’m sorry about Lila.”

Marinette stiffened at the girl’s name. “What…what about her?”

“When you went berserk about her lying, I thought it was just about Adrien,” Alya said. “I realized that first night, after the rooftop meeting, that the reason you were so upset was because she’d dragged Ladybug into it as well. You never used Ladybug to get to Adrien; I can see why you’d be upset someone else did.”

The whole truth pushed at Marinette’s lips, desperate to finally get out - that Lila wasn’t just a liar, but that she’d threatened to take everything and everyone from her by the end of the school year.

But Adrien’s advice still echoed in her mind: <em> “As long as we both know the truth, does it really matter?”</em> Well, now everyone knew the truth. They might not put it together as quickly as Alya had, but the next time they saw Lila or she mentioned her best friend, Ladybug, it would be the nail in her own coffin. Marinette almost felt bad for her. 

But only almost.

“I’m sorry she gave you fake stories for the blog,” Marinette offered instead, but Alya waved her off.

“That’s my own fault. I could have waited to double check with ‘Ladybug’ before posting them. It was a tough lesson to learn, but I guess every journalist has to learn it eventually. I’m more sorry I didn’t believe my best friend.”

This time Marinette’s smile was genuine. “I couldn’t really offer you much in the way of proof at the time. What matters is that you stood by me, even when you thought I was being unfair.”

“And you stood by me when I made a mistake about Lila,” Alya said, but guilt still flickered in her eyes.

So Marinette borrowed a trick from the very girl they were discussing and told Alya what she needed to hear - except she actually meant it. “You were the new girl this year, too. I understand why you gave her the benefit of the doubt. Being the new girl is hard. So…friends?”

“Best friends,” Alya said, the guilt finally replaced with a familiar mischievous glint. “Any chance Ladybug would like to give a statement to the Ladyblogger about her feelings on those particular stories?”

Marinette understood what her friend was offering: a platform to defend name with, and a chance to set her own boundaries where Lila’s stories were concerned - an action to back up her apology. Tikki actually looked over from where she and Trixx had been playing on her desk, her face a careful mask of simple curiosity, even if Marinette could almost hear the kwami’s voice in her head nudging her towards the high road.

But it was Adrien’s voice that came back to her, and she suddenly understood his advice in an entirely new light. Did it really matter? Not when Hawkmoth was still out there, still taking advantage of every negative emotion that flitted across his radar. Not when confronting Lila had already resulted in half a dozen akumatizations, including Marinette’s own first brush with one of the corrupt butterflies. It really felt like there was no winning, but there was one clear distinction: with Lila’s stories, people rarely got akumatized - but if she confronted her, especially as Ladybug, the chances of it happening would shoot up. 

And more than that…Marinette was finding it hard to care anymore. Even when she hadn’t known Adrien was her partner, her Chat Noir, he had still ended up siding with her against the world. It was enough. 

Which was why Marinette said, “As long as we know the truth, it doesn’t matter.” She smiled as she shared Adrien’s advice and was relieved when, for once, a blush didn’t give her away.

“Very cool, Marinette,” Alya said. “No wonder you were picked to be Ladybug. Girl, sometimes I still can’t believe it. Next time you have to tell me what happened when your dad got akumatized. It was like something out of a fairytale!” Alya winced. “But if you don’t get a move on, you’re going to be late for your patrol.”

“I’m always late,” Marinette teased, but she stood as she caught sight of the time. The truth was, for the first time in her life, she’d intentionally given herself as little time as possible in the hopes she’d have less time to obsess over the next few hours - and yet some small part of her brain seemed entirely devoted to only that no matter what she was doing. “You’re ok to go out on your own?”

“Go save the city, girl,” Alya said, shooing her friend towards her skylight as Trixx swirled into her bag. “And beep me if an akuma shows up. I girl has to maintain her identity, you know.”

“I’ve heard it can be a challenge,” Marinette laughed as her friend made for the door, savouring the ease of the moment, the freedom of not having to lie to her best friend anymore.

“Oh, if only you knew, dah-ling!” Alya threw her a wink and disappeared, but Marinette could hear her laughter as she descended the stairs. She lingered in the moment a little longer as she called on her transformation, but she she made her way to the balcony, waving one last time to her friend in the street below, there was no more avoiding what she was about to do.

It was time to meet up with the boy she loved - and to hope, for the first time, that he didn’t love her back.

[jackadler]

TITLE: FUNNY, BUT IT SEEMS I ALWAYS WIND UP HERE WITH YOU. SETTING: Early morning, around 6AM. TRIGGER WARNINGS: Addiction, alcohol, depression, and drug mentions.

Fate is a cruel mistress. Who said that? Jack can’t remember. He thinks he might have heard it in a movie after a lover was scorned. That notion alone seemed fitting without the quote. 

Marion Stewart was a needle to Jack Adler’s emotions that came in the shape of balloons. Blue eyes stare blank and uncertain at a gas station across the way, one where a woman with a roundish face and long blonde hair trickles down her back, pumps gas into her car. Another balloon bursts and Jack focuses on something else as the contents of this balloon clamber to the ground inside his mind. Her car is blue, dark blue, and the windows were tinted. His own car is black and the windows were also tinted. The pavement is cracked and so is Jack’s beating heart.

A neon sign beside him blinks and blinks, all bright colors. Blue and red. OPEN, it says in large letters, across the front window. Jack looks to his right, hands still white-knuckling the steering wheel. The sign says open and it’s all so daunting, the little liquor store besides him holding the contents of every ailment come and gone. But had it really gone? Perhaps not as his troubles bring him here, itching to indulge in every horrible desire that festers within the pit of his belly.

One drink. Maybe two. What’s the harm? I want to settle down.

These are the excuses he musters as he steps out of his car and heads to the front. He’s clad in his usual attire, though this time he places a baseball cap on his head. A rather lackluster attempt at keeping a low profile. Somehow, it usually does the trick. The little ding from the overhead bell sounds through the air like a siren once Jack opens the front door and steps inside. A warm smile is sent his way from the cashier working this morning. Jack examines every detail just as he did before. He’s a man, pointy face, and a mouth full of teeth that look like they’re trying to escape his head. His hair is dark and receding though it suits him somehow. 

Jack was blessed with amazing hair, is what his stepmother used to say, a manicured hand running through his brown strands of hair. It was blond when he was born, which his biological mother always points out, though she loves his darker hair. He does too. 

This all weaves through his mind and he almost forgets he’s standing before rows and rows of alcohol. It all seems to slip his mind, Jack drowning in a certain dissociative state. He could have just been overly tired but the whole situation feels like a dream. The corners of his vision haze a tad, his movements sluggish but frantic at the same time. How was that possible? Jack questions mentally, looking down at himself from above. He was floating above his body but somehow present too. 

Jack grabs two large bottles of wine. Red. He brings them to the front, resting them carefully onto the counter before him. The cashier with the pointy face was still smiling as he begins to ring up Jack’s poison of choice. They’re placed inside two brown paper bags. Then the cashier states the price and nothing feels real. Even as Jack reaches into his pocket and plucks out his leather wallet, paying with cash. He thinks he mutters a thank you as he’s leaving the store but the second the moment passes, Jack can’t quite recall if he did or not. 

The bags are placed on the passenger seat before he starts his car. The blonde woman pumping her gas was gone and so was her car. Something about that makes Jack feel empty inside. People come and go, Jack, what’s the big deal? You didn’t know her. But he cried regardless, the kind of quiet cry where nothing comes out of it but tears and silence. He can feel them sliding down his face, beard, and neck but he does nothing to wipe them away. 

The singer arrives at his home in no time and Jack sits in his driveway for what feels like hours. Really, it was probably only fifteen minutes but within this hazy state, time has a way of wrapping itself around him strangely. 

There’s also an itch all over his body. You’d think he’s broken out into a rash by the way he suddenly squirms uncomfortably inside his own skin and scratches at his arms and neck. But, really, it’s an internal itch, one he can’t quite reach. Only booze can ease it or a bump of cocaine or a couple pills. He can’t get those here, aside from alcohol. Not yet, anyway. Jack always finds a link somehow and maybe he will after downing these bottles.

Wait, are you going to down these bottles? Jack, why? The little angel on his shoulder asks, coming in the shape of himself but with a pair of white wings. They look tattered though and somehow bruised. His face too, worn down and tired. He feels bad for the tiny angel version of himself. He was trying so hard but to no prevail. Oh, can it, you stupid piece of shit. Look at him, he deserves a drink. You deserve a drink, Jack. Drink. Now the devil version of him is quite the opposite, scorned in a different way. He’s hurt too but comes in the shape of a beast. He still has Jack’s face but he’s nuzzled inside the body of a large bear. His face isn’t tired, not like the angel version. Devil Jack just seems angry and defeated. He looks for any excuse to indulge in poor behavior, that much was obvious too.

Jack spends the next ten minutes like this, going back and forth, before he reaches for the paper bags of wine and heads inside. 

Before he knows it, he’s sitting in his living room, both bottles of wine uncovered and placed before him. Blue eyes stare at them as if he’s waiting for them to speak. Maybe they will, who knows. Nothing can quite shock him anymore especially when it comes to the state of his fragile mind. He’s still crying, his bottom lip quivering every once in a while. This time it’s not as silent and comes in the form of quiet sighs, sniffs, and huffs. He can’t bring himself to wail and sob, though that might help him currently. 

He’s not sure why but he can feel eyes on him from all over. 

Or maybe that’s just the shame and guilt that pools through him. Shame that stems from more than just being a recovering alcoholic who plans to get to drunk and pass out on his couch. No, this shame also comes from the fact that he’s allowed himself to be lead on by someone he loves. At thirty-eight years old, you’d think these things would have come and gone already. You’d think he’s already endured enough heartbreak to last a lifetime. Yet, here he was, trapped in the same heartbreak he’s been tending to since he was a teenager.  

He hates that he still thinks of her even now, right as he’s about to spiral completely. Flashes of the night before clutter his mind. Jack thinks of when everything was just blonde hair, warmth, and a bed beneath them. Bliss. But was it bliss or denial? Perhaps they were the same thing in hindsight. 

It’s then he realizes his nails have been digging into his own palms, earning crescent moon-like shapes to form on the delicate skin of his hands. The pigment there has begun to fade too, just as it does around his fingers. It’s a pale white compared to his natural complexion which was a tad more neutral-toned and darker. Jack found a little vitiligo spot on his neck a little while ago too that wasn’t there before. 

God, why was he thinking about this? He might have his little angel to blame, that version of himself doing everything in his power to distract Jack from what was really about to happen. 

But even that wasn’t enough to scratch the itch. With that, he reaches out and begins to frantically peel away the wrapping around the top of the first bottle of wine. Then he unscrews the cap and brings the opening to his mouth before...

RING RING RING RING RING.

His phone vibrates and makes noise from inside his pocket. For a moment, Jack listens to it, finding comfort in the sound before removing it from where it resides. Mom is the name staring back at him now. He freezes, eyes wide and afraid. 

Jack sets the bottle down and answers, “Hello?” The brunette says quietly into his phone now pressed to his ear, “Oh, baby, you’re up? Did I wake you? I’m sorry for calling so early I just wanted to check-in. I had a weird feeling in my stomach and I thought I’d call. How’s everything out there?”

It’s then he realizes it’s Monday and Julia, his mother, always calls on Monday.

Now the two bottles stare at him this time, mocking him. He feels like they were shaking their heads at him even though they didn’t have heads. They were fucking bottles of wine. 

“I’m — I’m okay. I, um, I was awake. I haven’t slept yet actually.” At least he’s telling the truth. Not entirely but it was still something. “You see, that might be it. I always know when you’re not sleeping well. I feel it in my belly as if you were still in there. You never slept well in my stomach, you were too excited to get out!” Julia laughs on the other end and Jack does too, faintly. He can hear sizzling in the background. Samantha, his stepmother, was probably making breakfast. 

Jack was really crying now. A silent sob. He has to muffle it so his mother doesn’t hear. His hand is clasped over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut as he listens to her. “Baby, you still there?” She says, her voice gentler this time. “I’m here. I’m really tired, sorry. I’ve been um, working on a lot of things. Music. For the new album and everything. You know how I get.”

“Listen, honey, get some sleep and I’ll call you later on, okay? Me and mama love you very much. Get some rest or I’m coming down there and tucking you in myself, alright?” Jack can only nod, even though Julia couldn't see him. Though he feels like she’s there somehow. He sniffs before speaking, “Okay. I love you too. Very much. Bye.”

So, he hangs up and transports right back to where he was before. Though this time the sun is peering through his windows, casting lines of light onto the hardwood. Birds chirp signaling the start of a new day and newfound tiredness blankets Jack. He looks to the bottles and almost gags from shame. Suddenly his entire body is heavy and the lump in his throat grows and grows. He grabs them and heads for the kitchen, almost stumbling on the way there but he somehow stands his ground. With all his might, he turns them upside down and dumps them into the sink, aggressively shaking them to remove every ounce of booze inside each. 

Blue eyes watch as the crimson liquid glides through the sink and down the drain until there was nothing left. The bottles are dropped into his trashcan located inside a nearby cabinet. Jack turns the faucet on and removes any excess wine before shutting it off once again. 

Again, he stands there longer than he should before padding over to his bedroom. Along the way, he removes his pants and his shirt, clad in nothing but his boxers, and crawls into bed. His bed. Alone. Jack smells the familiar scent of himself embedded within his pillows and sheets. It’s nice, better than he remembered. He feels like he’s lived six thousand lives before settling back into his original skin, his original existence. 

Usually, he detested himself, this stemming from deeprooted insecurity. But now he doesn’t mind it. He was too exhausted to be insecure or impulsive or sad. Even though he knows it’ll come back, it always comes back. 

But, for now, new morning light leaking through his bedroom, he’s okay being his only one.

[whatarubberchicken]

Lukadrinette - Part 10

Because I lost all of my bookmarks when I moved to a new computer, and because Tumblr is such a pure, good, well-functioning website, I cannot find most of my posts for this story, so I have finally decided to post it to Ao3. I will leave the original posts as they are here on Tumblr, and if you can find them, great. If not, it’s now listed under:

My Sweet Blueberry Sandwich

(ff.net link to come)

(If anyone has any suggestions for tags, I am more than willing to hear them! I still suck at tagging.)

I will post a chapter a day until we catch back up, but no promises for after that. Hopefully, NoNaWriMo will be good to me this year.

That being said, enjoy! (Nothing too explicit this time but I’m still gonna put it under the cut, and yes, I did write this chapter before “Desperada” came out, so I was laughing REALLY hard during that episode.)

........

Adrien was not pouting, thank you very much.

After all, how could he be? Here he was, with the girl of his dreams and the boy who’d made him question his sexuality, eating thick, hot soup after a day filled with fantastic sex. He was certainly not panicking internally on all the many ways he could’ve screwed this up already, or mentally listing all the things he could buy them to make them let him stay for just one more day, or—

“How long are we gonna play the silent game?” Marinette asked. Adrien’s eyes flew to her face to see her smirking at him as she tore her bread in two.

“I—uh… was too busy eating!” he said quickly, digging into his soup for another bite. “It’s really good!”

The look she and Luka gave him told him he still wasn’t fooling anyone.

“I… um… what do you wanna talk about?” he asked timidly.

“Hmm….” Marinette tapped her lips with her spoon as she pondered. Her eyes lit up. “Celebrity fantasy hook-ups! Who would you want if you could have anyone?”

Are you kidding? I’m kinda living it right now, Adrien thought silently. Out loud he answered, “You guys know I’m a celebrity, right? And that I’ve actually had celebrity hook-ups?”

“Yeah, but not fantasy celebrity hook-ups,” Marinette teased.

“This isn’t fair,” Luka complained. “You already know mine!”

“Huh?” Adrien raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. Luka grinned and pointed at him, then Marinette, and then raised his fingers to his eyes in a blatant imitation of a mask.

“Oh,” Adrien said, ducking his head so they couldn’t see him blush. He had a feeling he’d be donning some sort of Chat Noir costume in the very near future, and honestly, he wasn’t against it. It would certainly be nice to Mari in her spots again….

“Oh, come on,” Marinette pouted. “You’re telling me neither of you have even entertained thoughts of a Jagged Stone/Clara Nightingale threesome?!”

Both boys thought about it and shook their heads.

“Clara’s too perky,” Adrien said, “don’t get me wrong, her flexibility is… amazing. But no, she’d probably try to sing to me while—yeah.” He shook his head again.

Luka snickered. “Note to self, don’t try to sing to Adrien while fucking him,” he said, pretending to write on his hand. Adrien made a face and chucked a piece of bread at him, pleased when his lover caught it in his mouth.

“As for me,” Luka said, swallowing, “Jagged Stone is no-go territory, babe.”

“You were happy enough to meet him,” Marinette said, scowling.

“True. True,” Luka nodded. “He’s been my idol for as long as I can remember. But…,” he winced a bit. “When I was little, my mom… hinted heavily that he was my dad.”

“WHAT?!” Marinette and Adrien both stood up, shocked. Luka held up his hands.

“She wouldn’t confirm anything. And she left that part of my damn birth certificate blank, so there’s no way to know unless I ask him for a paternity test—which I am NOT gonna do,” he added quickly, shaking a finger in Marinette’s direction. She puffed her cheeks at him angrily.

“But—”

“Babe, I am all grown up,” he said, grabbing her hand and rubbing it soothingly. “If I ask him now, the press will catch it, and they’ll make it look like the band is trying to land some sort of favoritism angle. I’m not doing that to them. Especially not now.”

“But, Luka—” Marinette tried again.

“Besides, the test could always come up negative,” he pointed out. “Just let me dream.”

She still looked upset.

“Ugh, now I’m not gonna be able to fantasize about him either,” she pouted, sinking back into her chair.

“Are we doing something wrong, to make you want to fantasize about other guys?!” Adrien exclaimed, also sitting.

“He’s too old for you anyway,” Luka added, winking. “Unless you’ve got a daddy kink you haven’t told me about.”

“Ewww, gross!”

“NOPE!” Adrien said, loudly enough to make them both pause. He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, guys, but that’s a hard no from me. If you guys are gonna be doing any ‘daddy’ roleplays, I can’t be a part of it. Just—no.” He shuddered.

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, I can see why,” she said. Adrien’s hopes rose a little. If anyone could understand just how deep this ‘squick’ went, it would be her.

“Don’t worry, Adrien,” Luka said, nodding at him. “It’s a hard no from me too.”

“No daddy kinks all around,” Marinette agreed, raising her glass high. They sealed the agreement with a toast, clinking their glasses together.

“So, Adrien,” Luka said, looking thoughtful. Adrien’s pulse spiked. “If you wanna—”

“What’s that sound?” Marinette interrupted, looking around.

Adrien and Luka also fell silent, listening. Adrien felt himself flush when he realized his phone was buzzing. He dug it out of the pants Marinette had forced him and Luka to put on after they’d tried to jump her while she was cutting vegetables. (He was personally glad Ladybug’s Lucky Charms had all been innocuous objects. Mari with a weapon was scary!)

The caller ID had him groaning, though.

Erica.

How dare she call him after ghosting him last night and leaving with another man?

“Your girlfriend?” Luka guessed.

“Ex,” Adrien corrected, growling. “I don’t deal with cheaters and she knew it. We were over the moment she left the club without me.” He moved to put the phone back in his pocket.

“Answer it,” Marinette said, exchanging a wicked smirk with Luka. “Put it on speaker.” Adrien blinked at her, then obeyed, feeling a little thrill go through him when they both abandoned their seats to come stand behind him.

“Adrien?!” Erica’s shrill voice filled the air. “Oh my God, why haven’t you been answering your phone?!”

“Because I didn’t notice you called,” he said. It was a lie, he’d seen it when he’d checked his messages earlier, he just hadn’t cared enough to call her back. He gasped. Marinette had just run her fingers through his hair, with extra emphasis on the nails against his scalp.

Oh sweet Jesu! If it had been a hard no from him with those other kinks, THIS was an exultant YES!

“Sorry, sweetie!” Marinette called, to his delight. “We’ve kinda been keeping him busy!” She scratched him again, and Adrien couldn’t hold back his moan.

“Who the hell—”

“Very busy,” Luka added on his other side, deepening his voice a bit and giving Adrien’s earlobe a quick nip. Both those actions sent a jolt right down the pit of his stomach. “We’d like to thank you for letting go of someone with such stamina! We’ve had quite the day!”

On the other end, Erica had gone conspicuously silent. Adrien pulled the phone closer to himself.

“So, uh, yeah,” he said softly, “as I’m sure you already know, we’re through.”

“How dare you!” she shrieked. “After everything I’ve done for you!” Marinette snorted in derision and started massaging his shoulders.

“What?” Adrien laughed, leaning back in his chair to relax against her minstrations. Oh, this was priceless. “What exactly have you ‘done for me?’”

“I—I—”

“Besides leaving me on my own so you can fuck another dude?”

“That’s—We’re just cousins!”

“Oh, kissing cousins?” Adrien laughed again. It would’ve actually been funny if he hadn’t heard that same excuse a thousand times over from his other casual encounters. “You had your tongue pretty far down his throat before you left, babe. Try another one.” Luka chuckled in approval and swirled his tongue around Adrien’s ear.

“Like this?” He whispered. Adrien wanted to whimper.

“Fine,” Erica seethed on the other end. “Fine! Be that way! Do your new partners realize how codependent you are?! How much you cling to whoever you’re fucking?!”

Luka and Marinette’s attentions stopped and Adrien felt his breath leave him. Oh God. Oh no. Please don’t let them…. He looked up at Marinette and Luka. They both still looked amused.

“That’s okay,” Marinette called towards the phone. “I like to cuddle!” To emphasize this, she wrapped her arms around Adrien’s shoulders. Relief and warmth flooded him. If he hadn’t already been sitting, he would’ve fallen over.

“And there’s two of us, so we should be able to handle it,” Luka added, kissing the top of Adrien’s head. He wanted to cry. It felt so good. He was safe, and happy, and loved—

“Oh, you are just sick!” his ex spat. “Boys and girls? It’s—it’s unnatural!”

Adrien stared at his phone in disbelief. She’d known he was bisexual from the start! She’d never seemed to have a problem with it before!!

“Somebody sounds jealous,” Marinette drawled.

“You’re a freak!”

“And you’re,” Luka leaned over to tap on Adrien’s phone, “cancelled.” He hung up on her and grinned at Adrien. “And that, my friend, is how you take out the trash.”

“Thanks, you guys,” Adrien said, letting out a shaky breath. “Usually my break-ups require a few more shouting matches and bottles of wine.”

And more of me sobbing into my pillow, he added silently.

“Aww,” Marinette cooed, holding him tighter, “poor Adrikins.”

Adrien gave a weak laugh. “Please don’t ever call me that again.”

“Only for Chloé, huh?” she pouted, pulling away.

He shot her a wry grin. “It just sounds weird when you say it.” To his surprise, her face softened.

“All right then, kitty,” she said softly. Adrien felt his heart leap, especially when she let him go and stroked his hair again. Yes! Yes, that one will do quite nicely, thank you! “Let’s get supper cleaned up and then we can go cuddle, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered, leaning into her touch desperately.

“Why don’t you two go ahead,” Luka suggested. “I’ll clean up.” He started clearing the table.

“You sure?” Marinette asked, giving him a quick peck as he passed by.

“Yeah. You can,” he gave Adrien a suggestive smirk, “get him ready.” Adrien gulped, wondering just what they might have planned for him—

“No sex tonight,” Marinette suddenly declared.

“What?! Aww…” He and Luka made disappointed sounds.

“Nope,” she said firmly. “If we’re going to try for a real relationship here, we have to have more than just the physical. And since you two have already jumped the gun today—”

“I already apologized for that!” Luka protested.

“—then we need to have a session where everyone feels loved and accepted,” she finished, glaring at her blue-haired boyfriend. “So,” she turned on Adrien, “tonight we are going to cuddle your ‘codependent’ ass until you get some much-needed sleep.”

Adrien opened his mouth to retort, but then he closed it again. Who could argue with something like that?

[silverlightqueen]

The Other Half - Teaser

badboy!Jimin x richgirl!reader ft. bts, nct 127, twice, red velvet, got7, blackpink and exo

Word Count: 2.4k+

Summary - In Winchester, y/n has it all. Gorgeous and glamorous. A friendship group just as gorgeous and glamorous. Fantastic grades. A handsome boyfriend with a family just as successful as hers. A doting dad and a brother just as beautiful as she is. An amazing school, and an even more amazing house. As many cars and clothes and bags and shoes, and as much makeup and money she could ever ask for. But when Winchester Academy puts on an exchange programme with Burnley Tech School, a high school in an underprivileged area, two completely different worlds collide, and y/n has her hands full, practically overflowing, dealing with her exchange partner, bad boy Jimin with a whole lot of baggage...

Warnings - nothing yet except some offensive rich kid talk, a hint of classism and some mild bad language

a/n: I literally got this idea less than 24 hours ago and have already produced a two and a half thousand word long teaser for it so as you can probably tell, I am very excited about this ! lmk what you think so far and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist x

au masterlist

silverlightqueen masterlist

‘And then I told them to deliver it to my house and you know they said? They said they don’t do home deliveries,’ Nayeon wraps up her story, the rest of us girls gasping in shock. ‘You’re kidding?’ Mina asks, one hand flipping her hair over her shoulder, the other clasping Jaehyun’s hand. ‘Nope. I was like, bitch, do you not know who I am?’ Nayeon says, a laugh running around the group at that. ‘So what did you do, babe?’ Johnny asks her, arm around her shoulders, and she grins. ‘I asked to speak to her manager, and she went and got him. As soon as he saw me, his face fell, and he asked what he could do for me. I told him that his employee had told me they don’t do home deliveries and before I could even finish talking, he said that they could make an exception for me, of course,’ she says, a satisfied smile on her face as she inspects her fingernails, pristine no doubt, due to the award-winning nail tech we all share. ‘And did they?’ Tzuyu asks. ‘The clothes were in my room before I got home,’ she replies, all of us laughing. 

We’re sat out in the courtyard in our usual spot; a few benches in a huddle, half in the sun and half in the shade, close enough to the sports pitches and courts for us to keep an eye on the boys during the warmer months. It’s only April now, and sports start up again in May, when the air gets warmer, the days get longer, and our skin gets darker. Only half of our group are sat here at the moment, Nayeon, Johnny, Mina and Jaehyun taking up one bench, Momo and Sana on another, Tzuyu and Mark sprawled across another, and myself and Taeyong in another, my legs stretched across it and Taeyong sat between them, head resting on my chest. We’re all dressed in the tragically unfashionable uniform, the girls in black cardigans, blue blouses, green and blue checked skirts with yellow and red on them and knee high black socks (though we ditch the cardigans at any possible opportunity, our blouses tight and skirts rolled up so we don’t look like conservative catholic school girls from the Victorian era or whatever), the boys in tailored black trousers, light blue shirts and black ties, blazers the same print as our skirts slung over their shoulders. Other students pass us by with eager ears, trying to hear any hot gossip, and eager eyes, desperate to make eye contact and earn a smile from one of us.

I spot the others ambling over towards us, and wave as they near us. Chaeyoung practically bounds up to Mark, inelegantly landing on him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Tzuyu makes space for Sicheng as Jeongyeon, Doyoung, Jihyo and Taeil take up another bench. Yuta joins Sana and Jungwoo joins Momo, Dahyun and Donghyuck taking up the last bench, and we are all as we should be. With our friends, in our couples, picture perfect as we’ve always been and always will be. ‘Oh, have you heard the news?’ Jihyo says, her fingers toying with Taeil’s tie as she speaks. ‘What news, Ji?’ Taeyong asks, his back vibrating against my chest with his words. ‘I don’t know how true this is, but I overheard Jennie speaking to Jackson and, apparently, we’ve got exchange students coming,’ she says, conversation erupting as soon as she utters the words. ‘No way! I don’t want anyone in my house!’ ‘Foreign bitches? Cool.’ ‘You’re fucking kidding, Ji.’ ‘Ooh, I hope they’re French!’

‘Why?’ Mark asks Chaeyoung, raising an eyebrow. ‘She’s got a kink for French boys,’ Dahyun whispers loudly, all of bursting into laughter. ‘No!’ Chaeyoung exclaims, a blush tainting her cheeks, ‘I just want to practice my French.’ ‘Oh, yeah, she’s fluent, Mark,’ Johnny teases, coaxing more laughter from the rest of us. ‘You can practice your French on me if you want, Chae,’ Taeyong teases with a wink, and I slap his forehead playfully. The jokes go over the two’s heads, both of them looking confused, and I take pity on them. ‘Being fluent in French is way of saying that someone’s… good at… you know?’ I explain, the realisation dawning on their faces, swiftly followed by annoyance. ‘You embarrassed to say it, babe?’ Taeyong says quietly, so only I can hear, as Mark and Chae begin to rant. ‘You weren’t embarrassed to do it,’ he teases. ‘Shut it, Tae, not funny. My brother’s right there,’ I reply, motioning to Jaehyun as Taeyong chuckles to himself.

‘Well, I hate to break it to you, Chae, but, no. They’re not French. They’re actually not foreign at all,’ Jihyo says, and we all frown. ‘What’s the point then?’ Sana asks. ‘Well, they’re so different to us, they’re practically aliens,’ Jihyo grins, loving keeping us all on edge like this. ‘Spill it, Ji, what are they?’ Yuta demands, getting impatient, as we all are. ‘They’re… poor,’ she says, everyone silent for a few seconds. ‘You’ve gotta be kidding,’ Momo says, and Jihyo shakes her head. ‘Oh, my God, I cannot have a poor person in my house!’ Jeongyeon exclaims as Nayeon starts to hyperventilate, Johnny getting the Chanel Grand Extrait perfume from her Hermes clutch and spraying it over her to help calm her down. ‘Jihyo, please tell me you’re joking. I don’t need this stress right now. I’ve got a shoot tomorrow and I can feel myself getting stress hives,’ Tzuyu says in a shrill voice, Donghyuck trying to do a breathing exercise with her. ‘I’m telling my father about this. He won’t allow it, not for a second,’ Jungwoo says, getting his phone out from his blazer.

‘Guys, relax. It’s not the end of the world,’ I say, all of them except Mina and my brother looking at me like I’m insane. ‘y/n, it might not be the end of the world, but how can we relax? What if they rob us, or give us fleas? Or Ebola?’ Taeyong asks, and I have to hold back a scoff. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. First of all, it might not even be true so there’s no point getting all worked up yet. Even if it is true, you can probably opt out if you want. If we did each have a poor person in our houses, imagine how good it’d look on our University applications. We’d look amazing for being so hospitable and charitable, and I bet we’ll even win awards in August at the banquet for it. They won’t rob us, and they won’t have any diseases or fleas. They wouldn’t be allowed to come if they did,’ my brother says, always managing to put a positive spin on things. Not that I thought it was negative anyway. Almost as though Jaehyun’s just said some sort of magic incantation, the others instantly agree with him, now excited to ‘have a poor person’. I zone out, used to tuning out when their rich kid talk gets unbearably stuck up, and it’s only when the bell rings to signal the end of our lunch hour does my mind re-join them.

We all rise up from our seats, heading towards the door into the school, and Taeyong puts an arm around me, his hand resting dangerously close to my ass. I can smell the Tom Ford cologne I bought him for his birthday, and I inhale the subtle scent deeply. ‘What lesson do we have now?’ I ask, and he laughs. ‘We’ve got tutor, babe, it’s Wednesday. Switch your head on,’ he teases, tapping my temple. ‘I forgot. I was thinking about this exchange student thing,’ I reply, and he looks at me thoughtfully. ‘You excited?’ he asks, and I shrug. ‘I guess. It’ll be fun. I hope I can take her shopping and get her some stuff. Maybe she’ll become a really good friend of mine,’ I say. ‘What if it’s a boy though?’ he asks, and I think. ‘Then I’ll take him shopping and get him some stuff. And become really good friends with him,’ I say, wondering what his point is. ‘What if he’s cute? What if he’s your type?’ he asks as we walk through the door into the busy corridor, heading towards our tutor room, our friends making a racket behind us. ‘Then he’s cute and my type,’ I reply. ‘So you wouldn’t do anything?’ he asks, and I sigh. ‘What are you trying to say, Tae?’ I ask, and he takes his arm from around me, holding his hand out to me. I clasp it, wrapping my arm around his so his arm is clutched against my torso.

‘If I get a girl, and I sleep with her, would you be mad?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Why would I be mad? It’s not like we don’t already sleep with other people,’ I say, and he nods. ‘Yeah, but like, we sleep with strangers from clubs. We don’t sleep with people that our friends know, people that will be living with us, people that will see us being in a relationship,’ he says, and I laugh. ‘Okay, but the people we meet at clubs see us as a couple before we go home with them. Just do what we normally do. Just say you’re cheating, it’s not like the girl will feel indebted to me to tell me, and vice versa,’ I say, and he nods thoughtfully. ‘How did I get so lucky to have a girlfriend like you?’ he says, leaning down to press his lips to mine, and I kiss him briefly, breaking away when I hear my brother call, ‘Stop defiling my sister, Lee!’ ‘I’m not your girlfriend,’ I reply as our friends laugh, and he grins. ‘Okay. How did I get so lucky to have a future wife like you?’ he says, and I laugh. ‘You have our parents to thank for that,’ I reply, and he chuckles under his breath as we enter the classroom. We take our normal seats, Nayeon on one side of me and Taeyong on the other, my brother in front of me and Dahyun behind me. We chat and gossip for a while, our teacher, Miss Jung, walking in a couple minutes later.

‘Class, quieten down please. I have an announcement to make,’ she says, looking around at us over the rim of her glasses. Due to our parents donating a lot of money to the school, we get certain privileges to keep us happy. Because when we’re happy, our parents are happy, and when our parents are happy, they spend. One of those privileges include our entire friendship group being put into one tutor group, just the twenty of us. ‘Is it the exchange thing, Miss? Because we know,’ Mark says, swinging on his chair. ‘You seem to always know things already,’ she says drily before lifting a paper up to read from it. ‘On Monday 4th May, a group of students from Burnley Tech School will arrive at Winchester Academy as exchange students,’ she begins, all of us bursting into chatter. ‘Wait, so are they all like computer programming nerds?’ Doyoung asks, eyebrows raised, and Miss sighs. ‘No, that’s just the name of the school. As I was saying, they’ll be staying for a month-’ ‘A month?!’ we chorus in shock, and she rolls her eyes. ‘And if all goes well, the period will be extended to two months-’ ‘Two months?!’ we exclaim, looking around in shock. ‘Won’t they like… miss their parents?’ Jungwoo asks. ‘Well, they can call them,’ she replies. ‘They have phones?’ Sana asks, all of us looking at her incredulously. ‘Obviously, Sana they’re not that poor,’ Tzuyu says. ‘Who told you they’re poor?’ Miss asks, all of us silent.

‘They’re from an underprivileged area but they’re not poor. It just means they’re not as privileged as you. They can probably still afford all their necessities, and most likely some luxuries too, but they don’t live the same way that you all do. For example, they probably have to commute to school because it’s unlikely their parents can afford to buy them a car. And they probably all have part time jobs,’ she says, gasps running around the room, myself included. Growing up in such a privileged environment, the thought of commuting to school or having a part time job makes me feel faint. Call me a spoiled brat, but I don’t think I could ever. ‘Oh, my God, I feel so sorry for them. Are we allowed to buy them things when they come?’ Chaeyoung asks. ‘That’s to your own discretion, we can’t dictate things like that. But anyway, as I was saying, this exchange programme is to enrich your knowledge of different lifestyles and understand the importance of acceptance and equality. It’s also to show to us the kind of knowledge you all already have of other people’s situations and lives. So far, you’re not instilling much confidence in me, but hopefully, I’ll see an improvement,’ Miss Jung says, all of us listening for any more juicy details.

‘Wait…’ Sicheng says, catching all of our attention, ‘does this mean… we’ll have to go live with them too?’ he says, this development filling us with horror. ‘I’m afraid so. If the programme succeeds, they’ll spend two months with you, and you’ll spend a month with them before coming back in August,’ she says, all of our mouths open in shock. ‘Miss, please say you’re joking. We’ve got to spend a month being poor?’ Taeyong asks, and Miss tuts. ‘Now, now, Taeyong, that’s not very kind of you. As I’ve said, they’re not poor, and you must be open-minded. This’ll be a learning curve for you. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it greatly. We have an evening next Monday for your parents to all come in, get some more information about the programme and sign you up, if they wish,’ Miss Jung says, and I exchange a look with Jaehyun, both of us knowing our father would sign up for it in an instance, always wanting us to take part in these kind of things. ‘I know you’re all very unenthusiastic about this but give the students a chance.’ ‘We’ll give them a chance, obviously. It’s just unlikely we’ll get along. We’re so different,’ Taeil says, and Miss Jung eyes us all before she speaks; ‘You’d be surprised.’

[eirabach]

Dangerous Games [2/2]

Oh my God, finally.

This fic really really wanted to be 200k of pining and zero plot. I managed to cut it down to just under 30k. You’re... welcome? I guess? I don’t really know if anyone will read it, but if you’re brave enough to do so I wish you godspeed. See you on the flip side! I really really hope the read more works.

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go

Rating: M 

Wordcount: This part, 15k give or take 80. 

AO3: Here

Summary:

In which Penelope plots, and lives to regret it. Possibly.

But then again, possibly not.

[or, Pen and Ink versus TOS episode The Cham-Cham. Except with hardly anything in common with The Cham-Cham. I don’t make the rules. They do.]

He sleeps, which surprises him. So does she, and that surprises him even more.

He wakes up to find that she’s tucked herself against him in the night, her hand pillowed under his shoulder, her cheek pressed into his chest, and every muscle is screaming at him to move, move goddamnit, but there’s a pretty solid chance he’ll never move again.

Penelope shifts in her sleep, her brow furrowing, her other hand coming up to twist in the cotton of his t shirt, and honestly if he died right now he’d be a pretty happy guy. Maybe a touch too happy. He tries to shift his hips away without waking her, but she just tightens her grip, her leg curling around his, her nails sharp where they scratch against bare flesh.

Aw, shit .

He squeezes his eyes tight shut and mentally recites Four’s start up sequence until he starts to lose all feeling in his arm. And, luckily, elsewhere.

“Pen?”

Nothing.

“Penny? Lady P?”

He opens one eye and squints down at her. Her face is soft in sleep, her lips gently parted, and he feels real bad but his fingers are starting to turn blue.

“Penelope, we have a situation.”

“Wh - Gordon?”

“The very same.” She blinks up at him for a moment, then sits bolt upright, her elbow making solid contact with his stomach as she does so. “Ouch! Damn, Penny!”

“Oh! Oh, I am sorry.” She looks around, hair sticking to her cheek. “What’s the situation?”

“It’s morning?” He nods toward the windows where dawn’s red light is filtering through the voiles. “I uh - thought you might want to know.”

“Well thank you for the alarm, I think.” She moves to get out of bed, then stops and turns back to him. “I’ll be out with Vishkin most of today. He wants to go skiing.”

Gordon balks at this for at least half a dozen reasons, foremost amongst them being that he has no particular wish to have Penelope out of his sight when Vishkin is around. Of course if he dares to tell her that he’ll be subject to another possibly well-deserved tirade, so he decides to go for wounded pride instead.

“Oh come on , you know I’m a better skier than you!”

“ Alan is a better skier than me. You cheat.”

“I don’t!”

“Gordon, snowball fights?”

“Strategy, Pen.”

“Well.” She huffs, and climbs out of bed. “Once was enough. And anyway, look at you. I can’t let you out on the slopes.”

Gordon follows her eyeline to the exposed skin of his stomach. The bruises are yellow and green now, fading away at his hip, but they’re still enough to have Penny folding her arms over her chest, her eyes fire.

“I’m -”

“Don’t. Even. Try.” She reaches for Pauline’s wig and heads for the bathroom. “Besides, I have another use for you.”

---

A Saturday morning spent propping up a free bar in a beautiful location. It would have been perfect, pretty much, if it weren’t for the company.

Parker grouses at him from the end of the bar, a constant litany of displeased muttering, and the other staff aren’t exactly up for a chat. He tries to watch the holovision, but the news is barely worth the name and every panel show is a repeat.

He gives up, wanders into the kitchens around lunchtime and makes a couple of sandwiches. They’re tasteless and sit heavy in his belly. He hadn’t expected this to be so boring .

He had expected Penny to check in.

“You look cheerful.”

He almost drops the renements of his sandwich as he hops to his feet, brushing crumbs off his sweater vest before he holds out a hand to Margot Mearns.

“Ms Mearns! I - is everything okay? Can I - do you want a sandwich?”

“Tempting,” she drawls, looking down at the renements of his, “But I’m fine.”

She’s nothing like the nervous, quiet creature who’d arrived on Vishkin’s arm. She drapes herself over the bar and clicks her fingers in the direction of Parker who drops his glass cloth with the altricity of a man used to following demands.

“Gin and tonic,” she tells him, then, with a sideways look at Gordon and a little smirk. “Make that two.”

“Oh I really - “ But Parker’s already sliding two glasses along the bar and glaring balefully at Gordon over that stupid moustache. Ingratiate yourself, Penny had said. He may need the lubrication. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” She takes one of the glasses and knocks the drink back in a single gulp. Even Parker’s eyes widen. “I’m not paying for it.”

She signals for another, then eyes Gordon’s drink, the bubbles having barely settled. “You going to drink that?”

“Uh,” Gordon nods quickly and takes a sip. Parker hasn’t been stingy with his measures and he’s not used to much more than the odd light beer, so it’s not really surprising that he struggles to hold back a cough. “Uh - wow.”

Margot looks down at him along the length of her precision perfect nose. “Your wife says you’ve hurt yourself.”

“Yeah - yeah, a bit. I need to stay off the slopes, take it easy, y’know?”

“Colin will be delighted .” She takes a solid gulp of her second drink. “She’s very pretty.”

“Pardon?”

“Your wife, Paula?”

“P - Pauline.”

“Very pretty. Colin will be pleased to have her to himself for a bit.”

“I uh -”

She pats his hand and knocks back the rest of the gin.

“Oh don’t panic, he never keeps them.”

“Sounds like a real swell guy.”

“Where are you from, Kansas? Yeah he’s a swell guy alright.” She takes a compact from her purse then pulls a little wrap of white powder from her bra and empties its contents on to the mirror. “Want some?”

Gordon’s pretty sure that if his dad has a grave he’s spinning in it.

“Uh -”

She shrugs, and moves to cut a line. “Your loss.”

Yeah, in more ways than one.

“I was a big fan, by the way. When I was a kid.”

She looks at him then, suddenly shrewd. “You still look like a kid to me. Tell me, Gerald -”

“Greg.”

“Gerald. Tell me. What do you think my manager and your wife are up to right at this moment?”

International espionage , or at least he very much hopes so.

Stick to the script, Gordon. He shrugs, tries to keep his expression neutral. He’s not too sure how Penelope wants him to play this game, but he’s going to have to pick up strategy as he goes along.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure, skiing?”

Margot’s smile grows wider, something cat-like in the narrowing of her eyes.

“Uh huh, come here. Let me tell you a secret.” She grabs a fist full of his sweater and pulls him to her. Her breath is hot against his ear and he struggles not to recoil. “Colin has never skied in his life .” She sits back, satisfied, and cuts another line. “Why on earth would he start now.”

“She’s not that sort of girl.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? How many times I’ve said it? Lemme tell you, if Colin wants you to be something, you become it. And sharp, too.”

“Not Pauline.” He shakes his head. “She’s one of a kind.”

Margot’s smile is full of pity, and topped with a tiny smear of white powder.

“He used to say that about me, you know. Funny thing is, when you say it, I almost believe it.”

“Hey, I’m an honest guy.”

She grimaces, bitterness suffusing her every word. “No such thing.”

“Hey.” He rests his hand lightly on her wrist before she can return to the dregs on her mirror for a third time. “If you want to talk…”

She laughs, and for the first time it actually sounds like genuine amusement.

"You're cute, Gavin. I can see why she likes you."

---

Penelope has never been jealous in her life. She’s never had any need for it having never coveted anything that she couldn’t have in a heartbeat, but there’s an unwelcome seething in her stomach at the way Gordon’s hand rests on Margot Mearns’ wrist. It’s uncouth. Unbecoming. Unacceptable.

“Parker? Be a dear and escort Ms Mearns to her room will you? She looks a little overtired, and we have so very many things to arrange. Mr Vishkin is waiting."

Gordon’s leaning forward, speaking lowly enough that Penelope can’t make out the words, and Mearns laughs, high and clear. Parker raises an eyebrow.

“She looks right enough to me, milady.”

“As requested, please Parker. And tell Greg that I require his assistance post haste.”

Parer looks down his nose at her, and she stiffens her spine in the face of his obvious disapproval.

“At once, mi- Mrs Jones.”

He slopes off to do the deed, but not before Mearns leans toward Gordon and drops a kiss to his cheek. Gordon looks gobsmacked. Penelope feels her stomach turn to stone.

Some of the tension slips from her shoulders as Mearns follows him from the room but it only fades completely when Gordon approaches, waggling his eyebrows, his eyes sparkling for her. Mine , her heart snaps. Mine.

“‘Sup? I hear I’m wanted.”

She doesn’t bother replying to the innuendo, only nods after Parker’s retreating back.

“You seemed to be getting along swimmingly.”

Gordon grins. “It is my strong suit.”

“Undoubtedly. Did you discover anything about our erstwhile guests?”

"Plenty of trouble in paradise by the sounds of it. How were the slopes?"

"Powdery. Trouble you say?"

"Seems old Vishkin isn't treating his lady as well as he ought to be."

Penelope suppresses a shudder at the memory of Vishkin's hand against her lower back. "Well that is a surprise."

"I know right? Who'd have thought. But Pen, do you think we could use that?"

Before she'd decided to bring Gordon, using Vishkin's sexual inconstancy against him had absolutely been in the plan, but that doesn't make her any less shocked to have Gordon be the one to suggest it, especially after his reaction the previous night. It stings a part of her she rarely bothers to notice.

"Gordon you don't like him touching my shoulder, I can hardly expect you to keep up the cover if -"

" Whoa whoa Whoa, wait, what ? I absolutely did not mean, Jesus Pen. What do you take me for?"

And of course the thought wouldn't have occured to him. That's why she - that's why she cares so deeply for all the Tracy boys. Those ridiculously big hearts and fantastical belief in the goodness of others. She's never been entirely sure she quite fits in.

"I'm teasing, darling," she says, bright smile to hide the shadow of the lie. "Now how about I fill you in on our guest's current business plans. Would you believe he's practically bankrupt?"

---

Gordon doesn't have much to do with Tracy Industries finances. As long as there's enough  money in the pot to fixup his sub every time some crazy guy smashes it to smithereens he's more than happy to leave that to Scott. Or John. Or Grandma. Anyone else.

Ten minutes in Penelope's company and he knows the ins and outs of every disastrous business deal and musical flop that Vishkin has faced in the last six years.

It's a lot. Penelope's a lot. Her face is flushed and her smile is wide and there's a horrible little slug of jealousy crawling up behind his breastbone and into his throat.

"You got all that from skiing with him?"

She beams up at him, eyes shining. He feels a bit sick. "I'm terribly good at my job, darling."

"I knew that."

"Did you indeed." She seems to find it funny. He wonders if it is. "We have fifteen guests flying in for tomorrow night. They're private charters so I need to ensure their pilots have all the correct paperwork."

"You mean make sure they're on your payroll."

She pats his cheek fondly. "You're catching on!"

"So what's the plan?"

Penelope furrows her brow, attention on something over his shoulder. There's noise in the distance - raised voices followed by the splintering of glass. When she speaks again her voice is hushed and urgent.

"What do you think about poor Ms. Mearns? Do you think she's the type to open her heart to our dear Greg?"

Gordon grimaces slightly. The whole thing is starting to leave an unpleasant taste in his mouth. "I can give it a try. I'm probably not going to - well - y'know."

Penelope wrinkles her nose in distaste. "I should hope not. Verne!" Verne, a tall dark haired guy who's been casually painting the same six square feet of walk for the past hour and a half, trots over to Penny with the sort of alcracity that only ex members of the military possess. "Verne will you be a dear and keep an eye on Greg's virtue? We are very recently married, you know. It would be a shame to spoil it."

He stares at her. Verne doesn’t seem perturbed in the least. Gordon isn’t entirely sure Verne would know how to look perturbed if his life depended on it. It’s weird. This whole thing is super weird. "Are you asking him to spy on me?"

"Gordon, darling," she says with the sort of pained patience he usually associated with Virgil after six hours out. "That is literally his job."

"It is, sir," says Verne, staring at a point three inches above Gordon's head. "If it helps sir, I think she likes you."

Gordon scoffs. "Everybody likes me."

"I don't like you," mutters Parker as he passes by, dirty glasses in hand. "I think you're a bleedin' liability."

Penny scowls. "Nonsense. Parker do keep your nose out . Gordon is doing exactly as I'd hoped."

"You hoped I'd get wasted with pop stars?"

The room seems to be spinning. Parker mixes one hell of a drink.

"If she trusts you, she's our in. You only need to encourage her."

Parker snorts. Verne's lip ticks upwards at the corner. And Gordon knows better, he does, but there’s a part of him - deep and dark and buried - that just can’t help himself. It’s the part of him that pranks Scott, that dives, that holds his breath that little bit longer, that just wants to try it and see .

"Is that what you've been doing, getting Vishkin to trust you?"

Penny goes to answer - something glib, he expects, a casual brush off - then stops. Scowls.

"I've been doing my job." She lifts her thumb and rubs at the mark Margot's left on his face. Frosted pink stains the pad of it and she looks down at it in distaste. "Parker? A word."

She stamps back outside, Parker morosely following, and Gordon is left standing in the great hall with Verne, silent protector of his virtue.

He wonders if Verne will be any better at it than Virgil ever was.

He hopes so.

---

It doesn’t take a genius to see the difference in Margot Mearns whenever Vishkin is around. They return to the bar together, Vishkin’s ruddy cheeks and booming laugh in stark contrast to the silent, wraithlike Mearns, and it’s enough to give Gordon whiplash. Where she’d been snide and bitter and a little bit scary she’s cowed and quiet and he hadn’t really liked her before, but now he really doesn’t like Vishkin one bit.

Whatever kind of person Margot really is, it’s not the person she is on Vishkin’s arm.

Verne has stopped his painting and moved to hanging great curtains of fairy lights around the bar itself - a ruse, Gordon suspects, to keep an eye on Gordon himself as he shuffles behind it and puts on what he hopes is his most ingratiating grin.

“Can’t get the staff these days I tell ya! What’ll it be, folks?”

"A hit, if you don't mind!" Vishkin laughs, his belly shaking, and Gordon notes the way Margot cringes away from the movement.

"Gin," she breathes. Vishkin deflates. Gordon does as he's told.

"Margot, sweetheart," he soothes, his big hand covering hers before she can reach for the drink. "Just try won't you? For me? I do so much for you."

Margot grabs her drink with her other hand and throws it back.

"Fine," she half whispers in a tone that suggests anything but, "you need to leave."

"Margot -"

"Now!" It's a shout do incongruous that both Vishkin and Gordon start in shock. Vishkin recovers quickly enough to eye Gordon suspiciously.

"I guess I'll go see if I can find my lovely ski instructor. Don't drink too much. You know how you get."

Margot says nothing, but mulishly finishes her drink. Gordon busies himself making another and Vishkin leaves only to be replaced almost at once by the big bald guy who appears as if from nowhere, brandishing a piano stool. Gordon wonders vaguely where they're hiding - how many of them are listening in to his every word. Still, bald guy sets the stool down and scuttles back off to god knows where, and Gordon is left to play gentleman.

"Take a seat. You wanna - you wanna talk about it?"

Margot drops heavily down on the stool and glares at the piano as though it’s mortally offended her, a single crease between her eyebrows. “I’m trying to write. I can never write when I try.”

“Oh,” he says. “Okay. Why?”

“Why?” She laughs bitterly. “Because Colin is determined to have another album out of me. That’s the whole point of this little trip. Spoil me, show me off. Remind his friends that I exist. Like anyone in the music business cares about a woman over forty. Like I can even remember how to play . God, it’s been years. Years.”

Her anger and her breath all seem to escape at once and Margot rests her fingers on the keys ever so lightly, as if to touch them would break whatever spell she’s fallen under. It’s an opportunity, he thinks, though he isn’t quite sure for what. Only that Margot Mearns looks in serious need of rescue, and well, that’s kind of his job.

“You know my brother plays the piano. He’s pretty good.”

And just like that, he breaks it for her.

“That’s cute,” she says but clearly doesn’t mean, and reaches for her drink. A discordant noise echoes through the hall. “Does he want a job?”

“Nah - I mean. He’s got one of those. Like, really got one. I guess he plays to relax. He always says you can’t force music. It’s a feeling, y’know?”

Margot snorts. “Quite the philosopher. I bet he’d be crazy annoying on tour anyway.”

“You think he’s right though? Maybe you just aren’t feeling it.”

“Do you know how I do feel? Too damn sober, that’s what.” She throws back the drink and Gordon winces.

“No offence, Ms Mearns, but I kinda don’t think that’s likely.”

She doesn’t really answer him, only clicks her fingers and points at the piano lid. Big bald guy obligingly sweeps her empty glass away and leaves a margarita in its place.

“I mean - when Vi- when Victor is feeling kinda shitty he hammers out all these old tunes my mom used to play us. Like all this folk revival stuff from when she was a kid? Maybe - I don’t know, is there something you could play to maybe… loosen those emotions up a bit?”

“I don’t know if you’re trying to help or if you’re always this annoying.”

“Pretty much both.”

“I bet you do yoga.”

“I’m very flexible.”

She sighs, and shuffles over on the piano stool. “Sit.”

“Um -”

“ Sit .” Gordon does so, and Margot hovers her hands over the keys. “If you’re going to be obnoxiously positive you can sit here and play muse to me for a bit. Your wife won’t mind. Colin’s keeping her busy.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

She turns her head, her eyes narrowed. “You know, you really don’t act like a host. I could buy this place. I could buy you .”

Gordon knows for an absolute fact that that isn’t the case, but he attempts to look chastised anyway.

“Sorry? This isn’t really my strong point. Pauline’s the expert, I’m just here for the ride.” And that, that’s not even a lie.

“No.” Margot lifts one hand and idly tugs at a lock of hair behind his ear. Gordon’s heart rate ticks up, just briefly, and he wonders if Penny’s spies will report this back too. “No, it’s okay. I like it.”

“Maybe that’s where you should start,” he hazards. “With what you like.”

“And what will that achieve?” she half snorts.

Gordon risks a smile. “How will you know unless you try?”

“Try being happy and you will be?” She laughs. “Spoken like a true innocent.”

“Yeah, “ he says as she turns back to the keys. “Yeah. Maybe.”

---

Penelope cooks like she was taught by a cordon bleu chef, because she was.

Supper consists of a tiny tartlet drizzled in something unctuous, sides of gently grilled vegetables neatly stacked like cordwood on the fine bone china plates, and an atmosphere you could cut with a knife.

Mearns picks at her food, turning it around and around on her plate. Her eyes are bloodshot, her fingers shake, and there's a dusting of white powder in the ends of Gordon's hair. He's trying to keep up a conversation, bless him, but Mearns has nothing to say with Vishkin in the room, and Penelope is keeping Vishkin busy.

His tablet flashes constantly on the table in front of him, messages gently curated and occasionally created to ensure he's never allowed to forget even for a moment his precarious financial position. He's sweating, his food forgotten, and he speaks only to snap at Mearns as she requests another, expensive, drink.

Vishkin is getting desperate, and desperate men get sloppy.

“Colin, please -”

He stands, shoving his food away, his tablet crashing to the floor  followed by half a bottle of good wine that splatters over his too shiny shoes and up the legs of his too cheap trousers. “Please? Please? Haven’t I - Don’t I do enough ?!”

“Hey!” Gordon’s on his feet now, and Vishkin’s got six inches on him but righteous anger makes him the bigger person in the room by far. “Don’t speak to her like that!”

“Who the hell do you think you are!”

“Mr Vishkin! I’m so sorry -” Her turn, her role to lay a restraining hand on Gordon’s thigh and turn a beseeching expression on the other man. She beckons to Parker, who hovers, like all good staff, just at the edge of the drama. “Let my man clean that up for you.”

“Forget it,” he spits, turning on his heel. “For get it! Margot, come.”

He leaves, all bile and dripping wine stains, and Mearns stays. Her eyes are wide and adoring as she looks up at Gordon, and Penelope buries the sickness it brings beneath the thrill of success.

“Margot?” She lowers her voice. Confidential. A confidante. Gordon turns to her, but Mearns doesn’t. Mearns has eyes only for Gordon. Penelope can see the cracks spreading across her surface.

“Do you - did you mean what you said earlier?”

“About what?”

“Being happy.”

Penelope knows this - she’d been listening, down in the little boat shed by the lake, listening through the old-fashioned radio hidden in the old boat as the man she - as Gordon told Mearns stories about his mother that she’s never heard, as he laughed along to songs she doesn’t remember. So she knows, what he said about being happy. About how you have to just try , no matter what the odds. She knows. She doesn’t know if it’s worked on Mearns the way it has worked on her. She can feel Gordon watching her but she keeps her own eyes fixed on Mearns, waiting for the opportunity to turn those cracks into a fissure.

“Does he make you happy?”

“What do you think?” It’s scoffed out, a half sob, and if Penelope could allow herself to feel anything right now it might be pity. “I can’t get away from him, Greg. I can’t.”

“Maybe,” Gordon’s voice is cautious, so she allows herself a tiny nod. Go ahead. Ask. “Maybe, we can help you?”

“You? How ?”

“Tell us, Margot. Tell us about the people. Let us help them. Let us help you .”

And Margot looks up at Thunderbird Four,  her big eyes wet with tears, and Penelope -

Penelope smiles.

---

That night in the half breath before sleeping she tells him, "You know I think she's half in love with you."

"Who isn't?" he says, cocksure. Then, "She's not the one for me, Pen."

"No. No I should hope not."

It feels a bit like she might be trying, then.

---

The guests arrive in a series of private cars all with serious faced drivers who nod at Penny as they pass. The guests themselves pay them no mind, instead falling over themselves to greet Vishkin who holds court in the chalet's hall like a king.

Knowing what he does about the state of Vishkin's kingdom it reminds Gordon of the mass frenzy of little creatures that descend on the sinking corpse of a once great whale.

Penny watches too, her eyes narrow. Her hands folded neatly in front of her black satin dress, her posture perfect.

Knowing her as he dies, Gordon can sense the nerves coming from her in waves. Margot had told them between sobs of a shipment due to be dropped off tonight in the midst of the Indian Ocean, and from there to be ferried to those prepared to pay for an ounce or more of human flesh. He’d been disgusted, Penelope had been calm, Margot had asked for nothing but their secrecy - a promise he still doesn’t know if Penelope intends to keep.

"Remember. Secure the shipment, keep Vishkin distracted, notify Headquarters. Understood?"

That's all this is, now. An exercise in time wasting until the shipment is safely in GDF hands and GCHQ give permission to swoop in on Vishkin and put him away for good.

"Oh, totally. Got it. You look beautiful by the way."

She pats at the skirt of her dress, her nose wrinkling. "I'll do."

She sweeps away, the perfect hostess, and Parker appears at his elbow, a silver platter on his arm.

"Canapé, Mr Greg?"

Penelope approaches Vishkin, her arms outstretched, and Gordon's stomach sinks like lead. Distraction.

"Suit yourself," mutters Parker before stuffing one in his own mouth and disappearing into the glittering crowd. He’s caught by Margot, resplendent in sequins, and Gordon watches as she pulls him down to whisper urgently into his ear. Music strikes up from the speakers, staff whip guests coats away and return with trays of drinks, and it begins.

---

It's strange, the way there are two parties going on in one room and with Gordon both at the center and absent from both of them. It reminds him uncomfortably of the weeks of missed calls, of mission briefs given over and around him, and it makes his heart ache for island air and the roar of engines.

Penny dances at the edge of his eyeline, delivering drinks and instructions and all with a glint in her eye that smacks of a purpose Gordon misses with half his soul. The other half is lost to him, hanging in the spaces between her laughter and caught in the touch of her hand.

They've succeeded, Margot's evidence and the shipment they're to intercept enough to get Vishkin tucked away for many years, but there's still a sense of something lingering. Unfinished business.

Squid sense on high alert and a room full of liars to test it on, Gordon makes the executive decision to go get a drink. He's probably going to need it.

Luckily it's the big bald guy who makes it since his heads too much of a mess for any of Parker's overdone cocktails, and luckier still he knocks it back just as the music pauses, Penny moving toward him as Vishkin hands Margot the mic to polite applause.

She smiles like a shark, all teeth and no eyes, and he wonders if anyone else in the room even notices or if they're all too busy hiding their own secrets behind makeup and glitter and the greater good. She's good, hell give her that. She holds the room in the palm of her hand and it's hard to believe she's been dragged into this against her will.

Margot beams that liar's smile around the room and sweeps her skirts aside to sit at the piano.

"If you'll forgive me the indulgence," she says, "this is an oldie, but - ah." She laughs her tinkling laugh. A showgirls laugh, blisters and pain hidden behind the sparkle. "Someone told me it was a goodie. What would I know."

The staccato hits, and Gordon feels his heart lurch uncomfortably.

Heaven help a fool who falls in love, indeed.

Penny's half a step behind him, champagne flute in hand, and he barely even registers he's taking it from her before it's gone and her lips are pursed as though she's trying not to smile.

"Do you mind? I rather think I earned that."

He isn't denying it, but this feels like a moment and he's not letting this one pass him by.

"Dance with me?"

She's looking at him like this is definitely a moment. His heart skips once, twice…

And then his hand is in hers.

---

It would be a lie to say she thought he'd never ask; patience isn't one of her virtues.

She takes him by the hand and leads him, not to the centre of the dance floor where the guests mingle and sway, but to a shadowy corner hidden from Parker's prying eyes by the mass of the crowd. In her heels it's barely a stretch to rest her forearms on his shoulders and press her chest against his.

His eyes flicker downward at the motion and she treasures the little thrill that runs through her. Jeff Tracy raised his boys to be gentlemen, not monks .

"My team are tracking the package as we speak," she half whispers, "as soon as we have a location we'll have Vishkin."

"And Margot?" Gordon's hands hover either side of her hips, and really must a girl do everything herself? She lets her arms slip from his shoulders and run down his biceps. A gentle squeeze and a shift of her weight as the tempo changes and she rather loses her train of thought.

"Hmm?"

“Is she gonna be okay?”

Okay is a loaded term. Privately, Penelope thinks not. Margot Mearns has spent most of her life around Colin Vishkin or men very like him. Powerful men who made her powerful in turn. Covered her in diamonds and compliments and cold, hard cash. Penelope has seen enough in her own life to know that Margot’s propensity for little wraps of white powder may be the easier addiction to break.

“We will look after her,” she says instead, loathe to bring the mood down any more than she needs to. “Will that do?”

“I guess.” A beat, and his hand is firm against her lower back, drawing her closer as she allows herself to melt into him. “She tried to do the right thing in the end. That ought to count for something.”

Penelope sighs, and lets her eyes drift shut as they sway. “You do insist on thinking the best of everyone, don’t you.”

A smothered snort of laughter is followed by the gentlest of pressures on the crown of her head. “That’s me, the eternal optimist.”

“And do you find that your faith pays off?”

“I dunno.” He releases her, spins her around and pulls her back in to face him. “You tell me.”

The final notes of the song die away and leave in their wake a silence that seems to shudder within her, the ringing in her ears louder than any music. Champagne bubbles linger, tart on her tongue, and Gordon’s hand is warm and solid in hers.

From across the room, Parker gives her a nod.

Finished.

It’s finished.

And then Gordon’s squeezing her hand and Vishkin is cheering drunkenly and she thinks, no. No, it’s not.

It is, however, highly unprofessional the way she throws herself into Gordon, crushes her lips against his and swallows the shocked little sound he makes as she knocks all the air from his lungs. There’s bound to be a lot of paperwork. She does hope Parker’s taking notes.

Someone's hollering, wolf whistles echoing around the room, and if the way she pulls his tie loose serves to encourage them all the better, because he's kissing her back as though his life depends on it and she needs to get out of here.

Secure the shipment.

Create a distraction.

Call headquarters.

Two out of three is a solid start.

Gordon groans against her mouth and moves to cradle the back of her head in his hand.

He's going to pull her wig off.

She needs him to make that noise again.

"Get a room!" someone bellows, and there's a mumble of scattered laughter as she finally pulls away.

She's breathing heavily, but Gordon looks like he might faint. Oh well. In for a penny.

The music starts up again - recorded, now, Margot seems to have disappeared - and the guests turn away to look after their own interests again.

"Come with me?"

"Anywhere."

She beams. "The bedroom will do."

She half expects him to whoop, but instead there's just some little half sigh half whimper that makes her dash for the door just a little quicker.

Not quite quickly enough, unfortunately.

Parker clears his throat from the shadows, and Penelope tightens her grip.

"Pardon the intrusion," he says in a tone that suggests no such thing, "but the shipment?"

"Call it in," she says, "I'll -"

"I'll deal with it," Parker says, his expression one of abject misery. "You have… other doings, I h'xpect "

She releases Gordon just long enough to sweep Parker into a hug he has no time to return.

"Thank you, you darling man."

"Hmmph," he mumbles, expression unchanged. "Shall I tell them you were urgently called away?"

"Oh yes!" She calls over her shoulder, pulling Gordon behind her into the night as Parker disappears back into the party. "Very urgently indeed!"

---

It's bitterly cold outside, she's sure,but she doesn't feel it. The two of them stumble the hundred yards or so to their chalet in a tangle of limbs, practically falling through the door and slamming into the dresser with enough force to take Penelope's breath away - if she had any to spare.

She's torn his tie lose, shoving the jacket from his shoulders as his fingers fumble with the tiny buttons on the back of her dress.

"S'ok?" he manages as the first one comes loose and his jacket hits the floor. "Wanna stop?"

She doesn’t want to stop. Doesn’t have any intention of doing so - not now. Not when it’s taken so very terribly long to start. Not with his mouth at her throat and her hands in his hair and God but hasn’t she wondered what his laugh would feel like, puffed out in unbelieving breaths against the line of her collarbone? Hasn’t she dreamt of curling her fingers in sunbleached waves and daring him lower?

But the hair between her fingers is all wrong and it makes her hot blood freeze instantly. There's something she's forgotten, something terribly important, and she doesn’t want to stop, but she has to. She has to. Damn it all though, she just wants to try .

“Gordon -”

The worst part is how she doesn’t even have to say it.

The tiniest shift in her body, the merest trace of distress in her voice and he’s away from her in moments - half a room away and flushed the colour of Thunderbird Three. He rubs at his hair, that stupid hair, and stares, determined, at a point somewhere in the vicinity of Penelope’s left foot.

In that moment, she’s reasonably sure she feels her heart crack.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Pen - Lady Penelope - I really -”

“Don’t apologise.”

“But - I - “

“I believe I grabbed you . It ought to be me apologising.”

“Don’t.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot and scrubs at his eyes with a shaky hand. The half laugh he lets out makes her want to cry. “Jesus. Don’t apologise.”

Well now, of course, she must. And in doing so she must admit the truth of all of this - to him, even if not to herself.

Girlish nonsense, her Grandmother would have called it.

Would that it felt like it. Nonsense, she can laugh off. She cannot laugh off the look in his eyes, nor the pang in her chest.

“We mustn’t -”

“Yeah,” he holds his hands up. Surrender. She hates it. “Yeah no I super got that part, it’s fine, it’s - I mean -” he laughs again, and she hates that even more. “God I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not.”

“I really, actually think I am. It’s pathological, apparently. Ask John.”

“I could,” she says. Whispers, actually. “That's the problem you see. I could.”

---

Gordon’s spent the majority of his adult life submerged in icy water, but it’s never hit him as hard as this.

“What?”

Penny wrings her hands together, hair falling in her face, sweater askew, and he’d be amazed at seeing her so discombobulated - at having done that - if only he had the faintest clue what was going on.

“John’s watching,” she says again, and she won’t meet his eyes and she won’t make any sense because John isn’t watching. In fact Gordon can categorically state for an actual fact that John would rather blind himself with a rusty spoon than watch any of the events likely to unravel following a kiss like that. They’d hear his shrieks through the vaccuum .

Gordon knows this.

And Penny promised.

"It was the only way, you see."

" What was the only way?"

She reaches past him to the bedside table and tips up the communicator. A small green light flashes up at him.

"The disruptor?"

Penelope bites her lip. "Isn't.  Not entirely."

Gordon's brain stops. Reverses. Replays the night of their arrival.

"You lied about it?"

"I didn't think it would matter. It was Scott's preference." She just out her chin, and the action sets the confusion and stymied desire bubbling in his belly until the coalesce into something like anger.

Of course it's Scott. Listening in. Probably Virgil, too. Definitely Alan.

God, they'll have been taking bets.

“So, what? What are you telling me? That we’ve been on an open comm link to the island all this time?” Gordon looks around wildly. “Are they watching now? Am I starring in one of Grandma’s Space Operas? Hey, Grandma!” He cups his hands around his mouth and calls up to the ceiling. “Hope you didn’t burn the popcorn!”

“Gordon, please - “

“Gordon please what?” his voice is cold, colder than he meant it to be, but he takes a certain grim satisfaction in the way she winces as it hits her.

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“Penelope, you astound me on a minute by minute basis, but even I can’t believe you’d accidentally keep a secure communication line running when you’ve blocked every other transmission in or out of this place.”

“No - No that was - the lie wasn’t intentional. I didn’t set out to deceive you. I was going to tell you but you seemed so happy - it's not the island. It's only John.” Penelope wrings her hands together, her eyes darting between him and the holocomm as though undecided which offers the greater threat, and Gordon’s anger deflates into something close to defeat.

Only John, she says. Like the guy running the most effective communication monitoring device in the galaxy isn't an absolute gossip hound. As though he will ever, ever let Gordon live this down.

As though there was going to be anything to live down.

“Of course I was happy. I was here with you .” He shakes his head. “Shit, Penny. It isn’t rocket science. You don’t need Brains to figure this one out.”

“You said - about John -”

“Yeah, well.” Gordon drops into the wicker chair by the window. “Yeah, it was nice to think we’d actually get to spend some time alone. You know how I feel about you. If you didn’t - if you don’t - all you had to do was say so. You don’t need John to chaperone .” He laughs bitterly. “You’ve got Parker for that.”

“He shouldn’t have come. I don't need a chaperone. I don't want one."

Gordon rubs his hand across his eyes. He’s suddenly exhausted, tired beyond measure of all of this, but mainly just tired of pretending. Scott was right. Again. He isn’t cut out for this.

“I can’t even figure out what that’s meant to mean, Pen. Not everything has to be all intrigue and secrets. Some things are just better if you just let them be .”

“I don’t know if I know how to do that.”

There’s something in her voice, something beyond guilt or unhappiness or denial or any of the dozen other things he might have expected to hear. It’s honesty, real and seering and shocking.

“Sure you do,” he says without thinking, then, as he watches her, “don’t you?”

“That’s the thing about you, Gordon,” she says, stepping up to the chair and reaching for his hand. “You’re - everything is so horribly straightforward with you. You know who you are. You know how to - you’re just so much better at this than I am, darling.” She sniffs, and he realises with dawning horror that she’s barely restraining tears. "So much better.”

"I really feel like that's not true."

Penny smiles weakly and he can't help but smile back.

"No?"

"Nah I mean - for a start if I was any good at this we really wouldn’t need this much of an excuse."

Penny looks up at him through her lashes.

“Is that what this is? I thought we were bringing down an international smuggling ring.”

He stands up, moving close enough to tangle the fingers of his left hand through the ends of her hair. He taps the side of his nose with his other hand.

“What a cover, eh?”

Penny sways into him, his wedding ring catching in the carefully constructed curls.

“A double bluff, then?”

“Something like that.” He thumbs gently at her chin. There’s a smear of lipstick at the corner of her mouth. He wonders if he has it’s twin. “Gotta play both sides to guarantee a win.”

“Spoken like a true middle child.”

“Yeah, well, in my family the middle child is John .”

“I wouldn’t do this with John.”

Penny drops the communicator to the ground and he hears the crunch of electronics underfoot, but he hasn’t the time to worry about that - not when her arms are round his neck, her mouth hot against his own.

She pushes him back towards the edge of the bed, only pulling away as his thighs hit the mattress. Pauline’s wig is discarded in a heap at her feet, followed immediately by the little black dress.

Oh.

Oh shit .

She doesn't want a chaperone.

“Well uh - no I mean - you’re not really his - “ Penny slides one pale knee onto the bed, and pushes him back with two fingers. He’s still mostly dressed in Greg’s penguin suit, the tie loose around his neck. She’s still moving, coming to hover above him to rest a single finger against his lips and Jesus Christ is he still talking? He isn’t sure how he’s still breathing.

“Darling, I ask only one favour from you tonight.”

“Anything.” Anything, God, anything.

“Be quiet.”

He mimes zipping his mouth shut, and throws away the key.

---

Gordon isn't sure when, exactly, he'd fallen asleep. He remembers pulling the sheets up over their heads to form a soft, white cocoon, and the way Penny had pressed her laughter against him as he'd sworn never to leave, ever. He remembers that her hair had tickled his nose and his side had protested, but that it had been worth it - more than worth it. He remembers thinking that he'd happily never sleep again if it meant missing a single moment of her skin against his.

Guess his body has been betraying him a lot recently.

Still, he's awake now, wrapped in a curtain of white cotton and blonde hair and wondering, just a little, if this is what heaven would have looked like. Penny's hand twitches on his belly, her head pillowed on his shoulder and he figures yeah, yeah,it probably is.

There's a full moon tonight, pouring through the open curtains and bleaching everything a stark, otherworldly silver. Penny is bathed in it, beautiful and glorious, and he's absolutely fucked. Literally, figuratively and decisively. Forever.

Still, he really ought to at least close the curtains and retrieve Pauline's wig from its Ignoble resting place on the floor. If anyone were to approach the chalet -one of the staff, Margot, Parker - they'd get an eyeful of a while bunch of things Penny would probably rather they didn't.

Penny sighs and shifts against him just enough for his ribs to protest and yeah, he should probably get up.

Just the mental image of Parker's doleful face at the window is enough to get him moving. He extradites himself from her grasp as gently as he possibly can making certain to replace his shoulder with a pillow and patting her hand gently as he lays it on the mattress. She mumbles sleepily as he drops a reassuring kiss to get forehead.

"Nothing to worry about," he whispers against the crease between her brows. "Be right back."

He pads over to the window and is reaching for the curtains when a movement catches his eye.

"Shit!" He makes a frantic grab for the curtain to cover his dignity and peers out into the night. The moon casts the valley in sparkling white and blackest shadows, and the darkest if them all is the single figure at the edge of the frozen lake. Gordon squints against the windowpane.

"Margot?"

The uneasy feeling he'd managed to quash beneath the thrill of Penelope's affections returns tenfold, hurrying his efforts to pull on a pair of pyjama pants and grab the closest coat. It's pink and smells faintly of apricots. It absolutely does not fit and he doesn't really have time to care. Instead he stuffs his feet into unlaced boots and lurches out into the cold.

It’s really goddamn cold.

He's not quiet as he stomps down to the edge of the lake,but the figure out on the ice pays him no mind, their back to him even when he calls out.

"You okay out there?"

She doesn't turn to face him, but it's definitely her. She's still dressed for the party, her beaded dress trailing from her thick jacket.

"Margot? Margot come off the ice."

At first he thinks she hasn't heard him, but then she looks over her shoulder and smiles. It's a black slash in the moonlight. Her teeth gleam.

"No, I don't think I will."

"Oh for -" Gordon toes at the edge. It's solid, but probably only a couple of inches deep and best and he has no idea whereabouts the spring that feeds it might be. "It isn't safe."

"Then go back." Harsher, "I didn't ask to be followed."

"I -"

"Oh don't bother." She laughs and the mountains seem to laugh with her. The ice creaks. "Thought you'd take a nighttime stroll in your pyjamas and a woman's coat did you? Men always take me for an idiot."

"I really don't." He hesitates, then takes one step onto the ice. Another. Another. She watches his approach with that slash of a smile. "I know this must be difficult for you."

The ice shudders, the vibration reverberating up his spine.

“You don’t have to do this.” He holds out his hand, dares to let his body weight shift ever so slightly toward her. “I can help, just -”

The answering laugh ricochets around the valley and hits him full force in the solar plexus.

“You?” She sneers, dawn breaking behind her and setting the valley aflame. “Gordon Tracy, what possible use could I have for you ?”

Oh.

Oh, now that is a turn up for the books. Swallowing hard, he wills his heart rate to kick it down a notch, concentrates on keeping his voice steady. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Because you can blame your father for it, you know. So many photographs .” She bares her teeth like a shark coming in for a kill.. “Enough to drive a girl mad . A pathetic little dye job might work on an idiot like Vishkin, but it was never going to work on me. I’d have thought your little spy friends would have known that. Tell me,” she folds her hands together as if in supplication or prayer. “Oh do tell me that you love her again, it was utterly adorable. She's got you wrapped right around her little finger hasn't she? Just like another  li ttle lapdog.”

There’s a lot to unpack, there. Like a whole lot. But the ice is snapping in the space between them and it won’t matter who Margot Mearns thinks he is when they’re both drowning in the depths.

“Margot, I swear, if you want to talk we can talk but we need to get off this ice -”

“And there’s that, of course. Dear, heroic Tracy boy. Trying so hard to fix me. Tell me, International Rescue , what’s it like to keep trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved?”

“Why wouldn’t you want to be saved?”

“Well, sweetheart, because I intend to save myself.” She opens her folded hands to reveal a little silver box. It’s pink in the dawn light. Innocent. He’d thought Margot was innocent, too.  “It’s a shame. It worked so well for years. No-one looks at a woman next to a powerful man, and Vishkin was a sap and an idiot. He's outlived his usefulness. It’s no loss." She sighs as she runs a finger lightly over the detonators surface. “But you, you were cute.”

He has time for one deep breath before the mountainside explodes.

---

Penelope bolts upright, her heart thundering, the remnants of her dream skittering away from her before she can even begin to get it under control.

She isn't usually one for nightmares.

She blinks sleep from her eyes and casts her bleary gaze around the room. It's darker than it was, the curtains drawn, and although the sheets beside her are rumpled they're empty and cold. She swings her legs out of bed and eyes the discarded clothes and shattered comm innards with a professional's seasoned eye. She didn't dream him, then. Not this time.

She's a little unsteady on her feet as she picks her way through the aftermath of her decision, muscles protesting slightly after months of under use. She peeks between the curtains to see a still,perfect night, bright moonlight diffused by the frost patterns on the glass. Almost dawn, then, and Gordon can't have gone far. She swallows the rising feeling that he shouldn't have gone at all and dresses swiftly and warmly. Someone, she certainly hopes Gordon, has lain Pauline's wig on the dresser but instead she reaches for one of his hats, pulling it low over her ears. In fact when she looks around she realises almost all of his ski wear is still in the chalet. Wherever he's gone he's likely wildly under dressed. Not that she minds that, of course, but she can hardly have him getting frostbite.

It’s that blue hour before the sun rises fully, and the valley feels like holding its breath, still, watchful. There are boot prints hidden beneath the frost, and a hushed, urgent whisper that carries across the lake. She can’t make out words, only the crisp, harsh tone of breath gritted out from too-cold lungs, and she finds herself wishing she’d had the forethought to bring Gordon’s ski wear with her. A prickle down her spine, a creak slam of a door, and she wishes she’d had the forethought to bring her gun.

Fifty yards from the edge of the lake, she comes across the source of the sound. The little boat hut door is hanging slightly from its hinges, swaying to and fro beneath its own weight. She’s about to walk by - she will send the carpenters round when this is all nicely concluded - when she spots the slick stain on the ice.

Blood.

She approaches as quietly as she can, back to the wall of the little hut, her ear pressed against it for any sound of movement. She hears nothing, but still she only peeps around the corner, fists ready, and into hell.

There’s a pool of gore glistening black in the moonlight between the old boat and the doorway, and at its centre - at its centre lies realization.

Penelope steps forward until the pool, dark and sticky, laps at the toes of her boots. Colin Vishkin smiles up at her through bloodstained teeth, his unseeing eyes turned toward the faint glow of Thunderbird Five, and for the first time in her life Penelope Creighton-Ward is faced with the terrible truth.

She’s got the whole thing wrong.

She’s failed.

It hits her at the same moment the world goes dark.

---

It's been a long day. Most of John's are. He doesn't really have the time for this.

“Say that again, Parker?”

“‘Er Ladyship ‘as been unexpectedly distracted.” Parker is hissing, his face far too close to his watch, and his one huge eye seems to float, Sauron-like, above Thunderbird 5’s central conn. “Most unfortunate it is, at that. Hi'm reportin' on 'er behalf such as she wishes but if you ask me she'd be better not -”

“Yes, I got that part.” John’s eyes flit over the other readings. Nothing unusual. No sign of any of IR’s personnel alarms being triggered. “Does she need help?”

“Not ‘arf,” sniffs Parker. “Brought the wrong bleedin’ brother if you ask me.”

“Are you - are you calling me because you want me to…” John fumbles for the words then settles on, “extract Gordon?”

Parker blinks. Considers.

“Leave ‘im. Damage was done there years back. Send Mr Virgil out to recover this cargo is what ‘er ladyship said.”

“Lady P wants Virgil to fish some cargo out of the Indian Ocean. Got it. Any particular reason, or?”

“And ‘ere’s me thinking you were the smart one.” The giant eye rolls, and John barely resists the urge to cut the feed. “‘Taint just any cargo this. Ms Margot Mearns 'erself asked me to call you not the GDF. ‘Er Ladyship doesn’t muck about with small time smugglers.”

“Just employs them,” mutters John, reaching for the link that’s been kept open to Penny and Gordon. He’s not bothered to test it since their arrival  - hasn’t really had the stomach for it to be quite honest - so it isn’t a complete surprise when it doesn’t immediately spring to life at his touch.

“EOS? Patch me in to Gordon. Signal disruption must be messing with the link.”

A pause, then, “I can’t do that John. The link is disabled.”

John frowns. Turns back to Parker. Somewhere beyond his great disembodied face he hears a sickeningly familiar crack and then -

Shit.

Scott’s going to lose his mind .

----

That first time, Sally heard it on the radio.

It wasn’t a radio, she knows that. Even back then there were a hundred newer, stronger, better technologies than she recalls from her twentieth century childhood. Her boy invented half of them, or paid the man that did.

Still, in her memory, she heard it on the radio.

In the chalet the little ones were tucked up, snoring, and Grant had left the supper to simmer while he headed out to the slopes to call the others home.

Supper burned, and she was on the wrong side of the mountain.

This time, she hears it from John. This time she’s on the other side of the world, tropical sun at her back, but in her heart, oh in her heart she hears it on the radio .

(And the avalanche swallows her whole.)

“Grandma? Grandma are you getting all this?”

"Loud and clear. Scott's on route."

"Scott's here ." Her eldest grandson barrels into the room, hair standing on end, shoulders stiffer than her hip. "Status, Five."

"Unknown. Communications are blocked. I've been unable to raise Parker."

"Anyone on the ground?"

"GDF won't get involved without consulting GCHQ."

" And? "

"GCHQ won't compromise the mission."

Scott presses his knuckles into the desk. Sally can feel the way his body trembles through the wood.

"Compromise the mission, " he scoffs. "Like Penelope's a soldier. "

Sally tried to keep her voice soft, her own fears tamped back in the face of Scott's furious terror.

"In their eyes, she is."

Virgil appears in the doorway,and Sally shakes her head briefly. Extra voices aren't likely to help when Scott's in this state of mind. His head dips and when he lifts it all that anger is directed at John.

"Why weren't you watching . Damn it, John! If you're not watching what's the point ."

John's expression darkens, his fury, so rare but so brutal, radiating from words muttered from behind clenched teeth.

" I'm not a spy, Scott."

"None of us are goddamn - " he runs a hand through his hair and pulls. "I shouldn't have let him go."

"You couldn't have -"

"Stopped him? I could have had him grounded on medical grounds - I could have locked him in his room - I could have- "

"No. No you couldn't." Virgil speaks slowly, tilting his head in an attempt to make eye contact with Scott as he paces. "He's an adult, Scott."

"As his commanding officer I -"

"Enough!" Sally slams her palms down onto the desk and waits for silence to follow the reverberation. "Enough."

"Grandma -"

"Grandma, nothing. We have a situation. Pull it together. John, play the call and raise Alan. We haven't got time for all this posturing."

“I’ll suit up,” says Virgil, already heading for his station, but John stops him with a single shake of his head.

“No can do, Virgil. Two is needed to pull some cargo shipment out of the Indian Ocean.”

“Excuse me, what?” Scott pauses with his shoulders already halfway into their supports. “A cargo collection?”

“It was what Parker was calling about,” says John. “This cargo, whatever it is. It’s what Lady Penelope was after.”

Scott blinks. “Will it be any use to her if she’s dead ?”

“I don’t know , Scott,” John grumbles. “All I know is -”

“If it matters enough for Parker to call it in, then it matters enough for us to do as he asks.” Her three eldest grandsons turn as one to face her. She hears Alan stumbling his way through the kitchen. “Have a little faith, boys. Virgil?”

“On it.”

He disappears. Alan blinks owlishly at her from the other side of the room.

“We go, Grandma? Scott?”

“You’re go,” she tells them, and lets their take off hide her fear.

---

"Scott, stop panicking."

Scott Tracy is the Field Commander of International Rescue, and the Field Commander of International Rescue does not panic.

"Scott?"

John, who clearly doesn't know what he's talking about, floats above One's console with his arms folded like a pissy school teacher.

"I don't panic," Scott grumbles,pushing One just that bit harder. "I'm just busy."

"Busy panicking."

"Busy looking for our brother , or have you forgotten he's already injured and now he's lost somewhere near avalanche central? Cause I'm not panicking, but you could do with looking a tad more concerned."

John's lips narrow until he's wearing what Gordon calls his 'detention face'. "We don't even know that Gordon's involved in this. All we know is that Parker was in the vicinity when -"

"Spare me the hope speech Johnny, please." Scott leans forward into the throttle and One roars in reply. "You and I both know that when Gordon's in the vicinity disaster is pretty much guaranteed."

"Where's Alan?"

"Securing the spare exosuit, why?"

"Because I don't want him listening in while I call you a prick."

Scott scowls. "Glad you're concerned about one of your baby brothers."

"Annnd there we have it." When he's feeling smug John taps his fingers again his upper arm just like dad did - does. Scott hates it. "Gordon isn't a kid, Scott."

The snow-capped peaks of the Alps appear in One's view screen, tinged pink with the dawn light, and Scott knows Gordon isn't a kid - not on paper and certainly not in Four - but in Scott's secret heart Gordon will forever be fourteen, waving his brother off to boot camp while wearing braces and sporting a recently broken nose.

Scott's last act before leaving Kansas had been to ensure the boy who broke it never, ever forgot Gordon Tracy's biggest brother.

He wishes taking vengeance on the world was that easy.

"He nearly died , John."

"But he didn't."

" John ."

" Scott ." John sighs, and Scott finally sees a little of his own fear in the way John scrubs at his tired eyes. "We get into situations like this all the time. We haven't died yet. He won't."

"No," Scott agrees, "he won't." And powers into the dawn.

----

When Gordon was five years old he’d started lifesaving classes down at the Y, and he’d decided very early on that pyjamas were a terrible piece of equipment when a life was at stake. It hadn't helped that mom had sent him with John's and they'd dragged three feet behind him as he'd tried to twist them into floats. He'd ended up tying himself into knots.

They’re not a fat lot of use now, either.

He strikes for the surface by instinct, fighting against the drag of his pants and the searing cold. His shoulder seizes from the exertion and he breaks the ice with a cry he sincerely hopes Mearns doesn't hear. Stupid body. Stupid cold. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He gasps, and chokes. The air isn't cold, it's thick and acrid and sending red embers fizzling through the ice around him. Somewhere he’s sure he hears rotor blades, but that could just be his heart trying to batter its way from his chest. He scrambles from the water, and, still on his knees, twists to scan the spot where he'd last seen Mearns.

She's gone, and in her wake the world is on fire.

The chalets have gone. Only shards of wood like dead trees and sheets of battered roofing remain, flames licking at the sky between the rivers of snow and ice that pour, even as he stares, down the mountainside to swallow them whole.

Fire. The mountain is on fire. The mountain is falling, and Gordon is running, pyjamas freezing against his skin, to try and hold it back.

He’s gotta hold it back. He’s gotta. He’s gotta -

The burning remnants of his chalet - their chalet - disappear beneath the snow with a terrible, hideous crack .

Penny.

Oh fuck, Penny.

The world burns, and Gordon Tracy burns with it.

---

Penelope has always been a great proponent of taking stock of one's surroundings. A strong believer that one should always endeavour to be thorough no matter how perturbing the circumstances might be. Her current circumstances are certainly that. The place she finds herself is dark and cramped. Further observation shows that there appears to be the majority of a wall supported millimetres from her aching head, and, perhaps most distressingly, she appears to be nose to nose with a corpse.

It is fair to say that given the choice this is not her preferred manner of spending any morning, least of all this one.

Cautiously she takes note of her limbs - attached and without any obvious sign of injury - and then of her faculties. Penelope Creighton-Ward. Lady. Twenty six years old and apparently trapped in a boatshed cum mausoleum by forces unknown.

The facts don't necessarily make her feel any better but they're always nice to have.

Vishkin’s glazed eyes peer unseeingly and unsettlingly into her own as she struggles to free herself, what little light there is casting eerie shadows over his livered skin. He’s been dead for hours, his belly swelling, the skin taut and cold as she finally manages to shuffle into a half crouch.

He’d bled to death in this boat house while, yards away, she and Gordon had seen fit to celebrate their victory .

There’s no justice in death. It gives Penelope no pleasure to look down on those black-red teeth as she struggles to steady herself against the sticky ground. And she knows, as surely as she knows her own name, that if Vishkin was already laying dead in this shed, that whatever has trapped her here with him was meant to kill them all. Parker, her team, herself.

Gordon.

Gordon, who had left their bed, under dressed and utterly unprepared for whatever Machiavellian forces awaited him. Gordon, who has no way of reaching his brothers. Gordon, who would be safe at home were it not for her own selfish wants .

It won’t do. None of it.

The air in the tiny crawlspace is thick and growing thicker, and when she dares to rest her cheek against her temporary ceiling she feels the chill of ice right down to her very bones. The only light source seems to come from a cracked wooden panel that hangs over Vishkin’s right shoulder. The air, such as it is, seems to be coming from that direction too.

“I am so very sorry,” she tells the dead man, shuffling on her knees as best she can. “Truly, I am.”

Then, niceties disposed of, she plants her elbows in his distended belly and gets to work.

---

The alpine range covers a huge geographical area, so even the limited information that John does have - they flew into Geneva and now somehow all hell has broken loose - is being rendered utterly useful by sheer scale, both of the mountains and the red tape.

"No luck, Eos?

"I have received no response to your transmission, John. Would you like me to send it again?"

He sighs, watching the little blue blip that represents Thunderbird One flicker in and out of whatever disruptor field is scrambling their communications. On the rare occasions he dies manage to reach One Scott's testy and getting worse. It's been almost an hour since Parker's call had been interrupted by the cracking of the mountainside,and neither John not Scott need a reminder of exactly how long a human being can survive being buried under a glaciers worth of ice.

It's not long enough.

He needs another plan.

"John?"

"Yeah, no. No, they're not interested."

Eos flashes. "We could increase their interest,"

They could. They absolutely could. They could have GCHQ on their knees in ten minutes flat. Four, if Eos helps him compile the code. But.

"I suppose that would be unethical?"

"You suppose correctly, plus we don't want to rescue Lady Penelope only to have to tell her we've lost her her job."

That's when it comes to him. A flash of inspiration that has his fingers skittering over the controls with a speed that makes any human companions gape, wide eyed. Eos doesn't gape. Eos understands.

"I will attempt to open the line to Scott. Co-ordinates are -"

"Close as they're gonna be," he mutters, Five's processors battering their way through the disruptors code. "Ready?"

"Scott? Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird One, Scott, come in."

Static crackles through the unit, and Scott, when he answers sounds as though he's at the bottom of a trench on a planet half a galaxy away.

"-me -n. Five. Ov- go?"

"Scott, I'm sending you my best guess coordinates. I've triangulated from Parker's call and known geographical features of the area, but it's a big area. You'll need to send the drones. Do you copy?"

More static, then "-AB"

One's symbol flickers again, and doesn't return.

John turns his attention to Virgil's progress over the Indian ocean, and watches over the only brother he has left.

---

Armageddon, or something like it.

And Gordon’s dealt with end-of-the-world before plenty of times. It’s his job. It’s his life . But this -

He has no idea what to do.

Thing is, fourth of five. You kinda forget how to be alone.

Because the other thing is, he pretty much never is, not even in the depths of the ocean. It makes no sense that he would be alone here, on semi solid ground.

No Four, no Brains, no John or Eos in his ear. No reassurance from Grandma or nagging from Scott. No Virgil hovering overhead, no jokes from Alan to lighten the mood. Nothing but him, the sagging, burning, frozen chalets, and the absolute certainty that if he doesn’t do something there's a good chance he'll never not feel alone again.

It makes no sense that he's drowning on dry land.

His hair is frozen. There’s bile at the back of his throat. There’s -

There’s a man. A man clambering between shattered, blackened walls. A man with a truly awful moustache.

“Parker?”

The man coughs bitterly and scowls the scowl of the recently and extremely put-out. “The very bleedin’ same.”

And he’ll never admit it, not to anyone , but Gordon suddenly feels hope spark somewhere in his frozen, aching chest.

He runs a rescuer's critical eye over Parker. There's ice in his moustache and his colour is high, but otherwise he seems unharmed.

"What happened?"

"'arf the bleedin' mountain 'appened!" Parker shrugs balefully further into his coat. "Ran for me bleeding life."

“How the hell did you outrun an avalanche?”

Parker narrows his eyes, his gaze fixed on one particular spot just above Gordon’s collarbone that Penny had also been oddly - if pleasantly - drawn to.

“Seems it’s been a night of unlikely successes Mr Gordon, sir.”

“Is that what you call this? Cause I think we have very different definitions.”

Parker glares at him for a moment longer, then peers over his shoulder.

“Where’s her ladyship?”

And every word Gordon’s ever known sticks in his throat. His expression must say them for him.

“Holy Christ,” spits Parker. “Fucking buggering hell. What ‘appened?”

“Bomb,” he manages, because that’s all he can imagine it could have been. “Set off an avalanche. Mearns… probably wasn’t actually the good guy.”

“You don’t fuckin’ say.” Parker grits out. “Blown up and bleedin’ buried an’ all. You go south, I’ll go north. There were ten left on site with you an’ me.”

Gordon wouldn’t know, of course. Gordon wasn’t paying attention. Gordon is a goddamn hopeless idiot.

“Communications?”

Parker just glares.

“Right.” He turns to the spot where he’d last seen Penny. It’s a smouldering, wet smear on the landscape. His feet are too cold, they won’t move. None of him moves, only his heart, every beat echoing in his ears and his throat and the tips of  his burning fingers.

Penny. Penny. Penny.

“Gordon! Gordon over here!”

At the edge of where the main chalet had stood Parker is frantically pulling at pieces of plasterboard, scrabbling around until he reveals a faintly familiar bald head.

The guy. The guy with the piano stool. He can’t remember his name. He can’t remember -

“Now hold on Mr Lester, International Rescue is on the way!”

It doesn’t matter what he can remember. International Rescue. That’s him. He’s it.

Gordon skids across the snow to land on his sodden knees. “Lester! Hey, hi, can you hear me?”

Lester blinks up at him. His face is free, one hand pillowed against his cheek, but the rest of him is buried beneath a mixture of snow and ash. He’s as grey as his surroundings, his lips stained scarlet. “Lady - Lady -”

Gordon swallows, afraid to risk a glance at Parker.

“It’s me, it’s Gordon. Can you tell me where you’re hurt?”

“Every - fire.”

Lester’s eyes are unfocused, his pupils dilated. Blood runs from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Gordon slips his cold fingers between the other man’s cheek and palm and feels the way bone grinds against bone.

“Yeah we sure had some of that, and some of the other too. Can you squeeze my hand?”

He knows he won’t. This isn’t his first rodeo. He smiles encouragingly anyway.

It feels like even more of a lie than usual.

“Verne?”

“Gonna get him right out too, don’t you worry. Everything’s gonna be okay, just hang tight.”

Over the creaking and crackling of the suffocating building comes a new noise. A faint, distant thrum that gets gradually louder until -

"Looks like company." Parker sniffs, looking up. "Knowing our luck it's the bleedin' Hood."

"Hey!" Gordon jumps up, pointing to the sky, the shittiness of the whole situation momentarily forgotten as the drone buzzes it's way overhead. "I know that drone! Hey! Hey !"

The drone stops and hovers overhead long enough for both men to get a good look at the bright IR emblazoned on her side. Gordon almost collapses with relief.

"Son of a bitch, they found us."

A signal relay drops from her belly and Scott’s voice echoes around the valley.

“Gordon Tracy! What in God’s name have you been doing?”

Parker mutters under his breath, but Gordon’s too busy trying to keep his knees from buckling.

“Scotty, I swear, I’ve never been so happy to be yelled at in all my life.”

"I'm not yelling!"

"Totally yelling, but that's okay. Got at least eight trapped here and this fire and ice thing is no fun for any of them, you on it?"

"On it," then a pause. "You okay, Thunderbird Four?"

The use of his call sign makes his shoulders feel a little higher, makes the churning in his belly easier to ignore.

"FAB, One. Now get down here and help ."

“Gordon?”

Parker’s voice is quiet, small.

Lester is quieter still.

“Oh god damn .”

He drops straight back to his knees, takes Lester’s face between his hands and hovers his cheek over his slack mouth.

The only breath he feels is his own, sour and sick and far too quick. Far too quick.

Thunderbird One was too damn slow.

---

It is a truth universally acknowledged that when Scott Tracy enters a room people take notice. When he arrives at a disaster zone, Thunderbird One descending from the heavens like some super shiny Messiah, Gordon is always vaguely shocked if people don't start cheering.

Truth is, it's hard to cheer anything with a dead man's head in your hands.

"I've got this, Mr Gordon," says Parker, gently replacing Gordon's hands with his own. "You go on lad."

Gordon watches the ice crystallise on Lester's parted lips for a moment longer, and then he's running. Running like his life depends on it which, honestly, it probably does.

"Scott! Scott over here!"

Scott, to his credit, does actually engage his jetpack rather than just leaping from the cockpit but it does look to be a close run thing.

"Status?" It's snapped out, Field Commander to Operative, but his hands are already patting Gordon's shoulders, frantic blue eyes scanning him for any more injuries than he'd left with.

"Absolutely fucked," is his first answer, then, as Alan makes a more traditional departure from One's belly, "explosive brought an avalanche down on the top here. We've got at least seven missing." He looks back at Parker. "One deceased."

"Whoa," Alan is lugging the spare exosuit behind him. It's almost twice his size. "An explosion ? How did - and what are you wearing ?"

Gordon grimaces. "You know how they say never meet your heroes? Well really, really don't. "

"All right," says Scott, and whatever worries he must have had about Gordon's own safety must have been assuaged because he's finally stopped pawing at him, "Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Five. Come in John. John?"

"No signal," Gordon says, "like seriously none. Parker managed to call GCHQ but -"

"He didn't call GCHQ," Scott interrupts. "Or they didn't tell us if he did. He called us."

"Oh. Well. Lucky then, I guess "

Scott rolls his eyes. "I guess . Come on, we need lifesign readings stat. Where's Lady Penelope? I assume she set this communication blocker up so she ought to be able to turn it off."

Summoned, Parker rises to join them.

"No 'ope of getting a signal out of here at the minute. Had to climb halfway up a bleedin' mountain to call Mr John, and that was on a temporary line. When we find milady…"

"Whoa, hold up." Scott turns to Gordon with wide eyes. " Penelope's missing?"

It's not a phrase Gordon particularly wants to dwell on, the dam he's thrown up between IR calmness and hysteria creaks unpleasantly under Scott's pitying gaze.

"Yeah, I mean if… if you mean I don't know where she is then yes. Yes, she's missing."

“What are we waiting for!” Alan clamps his feet into the exosuit and stretches for the arms. “We gotta find her, right Scott?”

---

“Right,” says Scott, because that’s Scott’s job. Keep Alan on task. Co-ordinate. Encourage. Stop staring at Gordon, because Gordon is staring into the abyss. Say something. Do something. He has no John, no Virgil. No Dad. Only a brother who’s never failed a rescue, and one who he cannot possibly fail. “And the others, too. Gordon?”

Gordon, and the abyss, stare back. Alan casts a nervous glance in Scott’s direction.

“Gordon? You okay? Thunderbird Four, do you copy?”

“Christ, okay, yeah. I’m on it. Come on Al,” he moves toward the splintered remains of what was obviously once a chalet. There’s blood on the snow where Parker had been kneeling and a scarf carefully laid over a still, wet lump. Scott doesn’t want Alan anywhere near it, but the youngest trots after his elder brother and god, ain’t that always the way.

He wonders how much Gordon remembers of the night their mother died. He wonders if he knows how much of their father Scott sees in him now.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Peachy,” it’s a snarl said with a smile, the sort of smile that precedes hysterics. “We’ve no way of searching for life signs and no way of reaching them if we did. That exosuit is useless without Virgil - we could crush survivors without even knowing they’re there.”

“I’m not gonna crush anyone!” Alan protests, “Come on, we gotta try!”

Scott remembers. He remembers his father’s hands, shiny red and black at the tips. He knows what trying looks like, how futile it can be.

Gordon knows too.

Alan will learn.

God he doesn’t want Alan to learn that today.

Scott looks up to the sky, wishing desperately that he could somehow will Thunderbird Two into existence, then pulls on his gloves, and tries.

---

Thunderbird Two isn’t as quick as One, not as streamlined. She’s built for strength, not speed. Virgil chases Scott’s trails regardless, until they disappear over the horizon and he’s left scouring the ocean below.

Pick up a package. This had better be a hell of a delivery.

John’s floating above the dash, his hands busy with things Virgil can’t see. He assumes John means to be there, he doesn’t know. He’s not said a word since Two was left lumbering over the ocean in Scott’s wake.

“See anything, Five?” he asks, just in case John’s forgotten the connection. “It’s a big ocean if I’m doing this by sight.”

“Working on it,” John says tersely, and Virgil knows that’s probably not true because if John was working on it he’d have solved it by now.

“Not sure what I’m looking for.” Virgil pretends to talk to himself. Lets John off the hook. Whatever hook he’s on. “Did Parker -”

“Fifteen miles to your two o’ clock. There’s something in the water. No engine.”

“Right.” Virgil sets the controls, spares John another glance from the corner of his eye. He’s testy. Stressed. “Scott?”

“Out of range,” comes the semi-spat reply and yeah, that’ll do it.

“Hell of a disruption Lady Penelope’s set up out there.”

“Tell me about it,” John grumbles. “Kayo is going to have a field day with this one.”

Half a mile below, Twos radar picks up something small and metallic. “John?”

“Could be, hang on Two.” In moments the HUD shows the bobbing motion of a shipping container as it floats benignly between two large inflatables. It looks pretty battered. Rusty. Nothing like something Lady Penelope might need. Nothing like something worth dying for.

“You sure, Five? It looks…” like a goddamn waste of time . “Old.”

“It’s the only thing out here without a call sign or an engine.” John looks distinctly unimpressed too. “I can’t imagine what else it could be.”

“I’ll take a look.” Virgil’s already firing the magnetic grappler, already lowering the pod to reel it in. “Like tin can fishing, right?”

“Right,” says John, but his eyes are far away. “Virgil, whatever it is… what’s your eta to Geneva?”

“Forty minutes.” He rises from the pilot’s seat and heads down to the pod, waiting only to hear the metallic clang as the door shuts. John makes an unhappy sort of noise, but Virgil doesn’t hang about to listen. He’s got to check he’s picked up the right package. Could be rusty old car parts. Could be fifty thousand rubber ducks. Could be...

He opens the container with the handheld laser, and keeps it in front of him as he peers inside.

Nothing. Why would Penelope send him after nothing?

Why would she waste their time? Why, when he should be out there at Scott's back and -

Oh.

Oh, crap.

He slaps his baldric, doesn’t even wait for John’s response before he’s saying;

“I’ll be there in thirty.”

---

Her fingers are raw, stinging and bleeding with every splinter she manages to tear away. Sweat drips into her eyes and her lungs ache, but it's okay. It's okay. Gordon's here.

He's a flash of blue and yellow in the corner of her eye, his voice a whisper that scrapes along her breastbone and settles heavy on her heart.

Did you find me Pen? I think I'm lost.

"Not a chance," she spits through the smoke, "not now. I won't allow it. I won't ."

Penny? Penny?

A shove, a tumble, and she leaves him behind in the dark.

---

Nothing Alan says makes any sense.

Gordon hears him okay, he’s using that Super Chipper Here To Save You voice that he always uses when he’s scared on a rescue. Gordon knows that voice. Gordon taught him it.

Gordon doesn’t know when Alan started using it to speak in tongues. It’s irritating.

“You’re being irritating,” he tells Alan. Alan stares at him. Says something in Dutch. “Fuck off.”

Alan doesn’t take the hint. In fact, he’s worse, tugging on Gordon’s jacket, yelling something in Swahili to Dad. Jokes on Alan, Dad can’t speak Japanese.

Hallucinations. There’s something important about hallucinations. Something he ought to know, and really, really he’s going to punch Alan if he doesn’t stop yelling and this coat is too tight and what the hell is hypothermia anywa-

Ah.

“I’m okay. Alan, Alan I’m fine.”

“You’re really not,” says Alan, and it might be in Klingon but that’s okay cause Gordon can speak Klingon. “We need to get you into One and warmed up.”

“We need to get Penny.”

“I’ll get Penelope, Gordon, I promise.”

“I dun- I don’t think you will.” A smile. People like smiles. Smiles get you your own way. “See, she likes me .”

“Gordon -”

“Gordon!”

And then, there she is. The prettiest hallucination of all.

She’s crawling out of a hole in the ground, wet and filthy, and he’s probably going insane but she’s looking at him like he’s the whole world and he’d rather have that than any grasp of his faculties. She scrambles to her feet and Alan stops grumbling in German and bolts toward her.

“Don’t.” She holds up a bleeding hand. “Alan, dear. There’s no-one to save in there. Get…” She stops. Stares. “Oh, my poor team.”

There’s a tragedy here, even his poor addled brain knows that, and Gordon’s told a lot of people about tragedy. He doesn’t want to tell Penny.

“I’ll go help Scott,” Alan says, taking jerking steps backwards in his borrowed suit. “It’ll be okay, Lady Penelope. We got this.”

Alan has not had to tell a lot of people about tragedy. He won’t be the one to tell her, either. Even though Penelope speaks perfect French.

“Vishkin’s dead,” she tells Gordon. “Murdered, I believe.”

Gordon tries to hold the words in his mind, rearranges them until they make sense. His tongue is too big for his mouth, but he tries to reply anyway. It feels important. Like Penny needs him.

“Yeah that’s - that’s pretty much the theme of the day. Was he -”

“Under there? Yes, I’m afraid so.” And she shudders, just a tiny little thing, but he can’t help himself any longer. He pulls her in as tight as he dares, and buries his frozen face in her damp neck.

---

Whatever has changed between his brother and Lady Penelope, Scott’s glad it’s Parker and not him who has to interrupt their reunion to retrieve her Ladyship’s compact and send the codes for the disruptor to EOS.

What GCHQ will make of one of their own sending their data to a sentient AI with a known habit of holding a grudge, Scott doesn’t especially care. Not when his baldric lights up like a Christmas tree as every comm line seems to burst into life at once. And over them all, clear and unfathomably welcome;

"Thunderbird Five to alpine site, communications have been restored. Do you read me? Repeat, do you read me?"

Scott slaps his communicator before John even manages to draw breath

"Thunderbird One requesting immediate assistance. We still have five missing, John, scan for life signs."

"FAB," John says, all business, then, "your flock accounted for?"

Scott risks a glance over to One where Gordon, encased in half a dozen aluminium blankets, is wrapping a similarly attired Penelope's hands in gauze. She looks down at him with an expression of such fondness that Scott can't help but feel a little bit creepy.

"Yeah, the black sheep's here all right, he's currently - well.  I'll tell you later."

"I strongly suspect I don't want to know. Got them! All five, but Scott some are very weak."

"Patch them through. I don't know what we're going to be able to do with the equipment we've got but -'

"Hold that thought."

"Virgil!"

Scott doesn't quite run for Thunderbird Two with outstretched arms as she lowers herself to the ground a safe distance from the danger zone,but it's a very close run thing.

"The very same. Send me those details, John. Scott, tell Alan to get out of my suit and grab a pod. We've got some digging to do."

---

Trying is one thing when you’re sharing a bed. It’s quite another when you’re barely sharing a planet. Penelope sits in her parlour, her compact set next to the cooling tea on the occasional table, her still sore hands resting in her lap.

Mearns is gone. No sign of her on the GDFs patrols. No word through MI6’s impressive grapevine. It feels more personal, somehow, to be the collateral in someone else’s game plan. So Mearns is out there somewhere and Lester and Vishkin are dead, and Penelope has nothing to show for it but a palm full of scars and the way Gordon looks at her, small and transparent, from the edge of her teacup.

The worst thing is how she can’t quite bear to think it wasn’t worth it.

He moves as though attempting to peer around her. “Parker’s not there is he?”

“Not in the immediate vicinity, no.”

Gordon lets out a relieved huff and settles back against the headboard. “Good.”

“You can’t possibly be frightened of Parker.”

“Plenty of people have very good reasons to be frightened of Parker. He sent me down the sewer, remember?”

Penelope dismisses him with a wave of her hand. “That was before. ”

“Yeah, exactly. I bet it’d be a whole bunch worse now. Now he’ll put me down there in pieces. Really tiny pieces, Pen. Like those damn canapes he’s so fond of.”

She grins. “Calamari?”

“You can go off people you know.”

Penelope hums, tilting her head to one side. “I’ll take your word for that. Your hair’s back to normal.”

“Yeah.” He ruffles a hand through sleep-flattened curls and Penelope’s fingers twitch reflexively in her lap. “John said he found it ‘deeply troubling.’”

She laughs, quiet and low.

“Poor John.”

“Yeah.” And now Gordon’s not quite looking at her. “I think I’ve stressed him out a lot recently.”

“It isn’t your fault, you know,” Penelope tells him. “None of what happened is your fault.”

“I let her blow up the building, Pen. Vishkin’s dead. You could have died.”

“But I didn’t.”

Gordon huffs. “Does that work on you when I say it?”

“Not at all, no.”

They stare at each other, half a planet apart, and Penelope is horrified to find tears pricking at the backs of her eyes.

“I’m so sorry I lied to you.”

“What, about the communications? That saved us, Pen. If John hadn't failed to get through -”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

Tiny blue Gordon balks, fizzling briefly out of existence against the edge of her teapot.

“Oh. Okay. Uh - what do you mean, then?”

“That I lied about why I wanted you to come.”

“You mean you didn’t need my impressive spycraft skills?” He presses a hand against his chest. “You wound me.”

“No I -” she shakes her head. “I was a coward. A terrible coward. I should have just told you from the start.”

He drops his hand then. Tilts his head to one side, voice soft.

“Told me what?”

“A hundred things.” She takes a deep breath. Lets the not-quite-right words fall from her on the exhale. “I miss you.”

His image crumples then reforms closer and when he smiles, oh when he smiles it’s like they’re back in their chalet, cocooned in the white sheets with nothing between them but lives built on secrets and lies so much less frightening than the truth.

“Yeah,” he says, always so very much braver than her. “Yeah, Pen. I love you, too.”