#but if someone needs me to tag it in another way just say it curtly

[windydrawallday]

Good Morning / Night Smoochies

[sencrose]

-- WHEN STARS REALIGN

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

wc: 3.2k

tags: NONCON, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, toys (vibrator/dildo), soulmate AU, ambiguous backstory, fingering, creampie, pwp

a/n: this is the second time gojo has distracted me from another thing i've been working on. i need to evict him from my brain. ao3 link here

summary: Years after you leave the world of jujutsu, Satoru returns to claim what's his.

At some point in time, you had potential.

Nothing record breaking in the grand scheme of things; the balance of the world didn’t shift when you were born. But, you were on track to graduate as a grade one sorcerer, a bundle of accolades and accomplishments under your belt. It was potential, nonetheless.

All you have left are memories. 

The day you found Satoru Gojo’s name written on your wrist, and the chaos that unleashed shortly after. A hasty withdrawal, starting from scratch with no connections. It’s what you had to do.  

But even memories fade with time. Some already have.

These days, life is much more mundane. Water cooler talk, boring meetings about raising profits, the oh so wonderful view of your gray cubicle that fills your vision for sixty hours a week –  if you’re lucky. At the very least, you can take solace that you were able to make things work in your favor – a promotion on the way, a comfortable salary, and a decent apartment. 

Sometimes the hypothetical flits past your mind. What if you stayed? What if you didn’t abandon jujutsu? If you didn’t abandon him? But the thought flies by so fast, and you have no desire to chase after it.

With a slam of your laptop, you check out for the day, making your way past the elevators, the security gates, on to the bustling train you take to get back home. Everything is the same as always – until you get back to your apartment. The door is slightly ajar, and you know you’re not the type to leave it so. 

Hesitantly, you push it open. Nothing in the hallway at least. Nothing in the bathroom, kitchen, or living room either. What are the actual chances that someone, or something is really in there? Maybe this whole thing is a fluke. That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you push the door open, peering through the crack like a child in search of a bedtime monster.

“Welcome back!”

Not a monster, but close.  

As soon as his voice hits your ears, your body freezes. Gojo sits on your bed leisurely, hands leaned against the back of his head with his legs crossed. Not much has changed about him, other than the solid blindfold replacing his round specs.

“Miss me?”

You take in the sight of him more, questioning if it’s really him. He’s taller than you remember, but only by a small margin. It brings back memories of him towering over you, encroaching on your personal space more than you like. It’s a struggle to get any words to slip past your tongue with your memories flooding back into you, a homecoming of sorts.

“Why…” you attempt to ask, but your voice is barely audible, a soft whimper.

“What’s that?” he asks, bringing his hand to his ear, “You’re gonna have to speak up, sweetheart.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m your soulmate after all,” he replies, emphasizing the label. You’re well aware that some would die for the opportunity to be forever linked to the strongest sorcerer, good looks and all. You however, are not fond of the idea.

“How did you find out where I am?”

“Call it divine intervention,” he says with a cheeky smile, one you didn’t miss.

“Why now?”

“Aw, did you want me to come fetch you sooner? You should’ve saved me the trouble and come to me yourself.”

“W-what?” you ask warily, before letting out a sigh, “no, just. Just leave, Satoru.”

“Aw, come on, the least you could do is give me a warm welcome. How long has it been now? Five years?”

“Six,” you corrected him.

“And you didn’t call once?” he asks with a pout, voice far too sweet to be genuine, “you could’ve called.”

“I don’t have your phone number,” you reply curtly.

“You deleted it?” he asks, gasping dramatically while covering his mouth in a sarcastic attempt to seem baffled, “oh, you’re really hurting my feelings.”

“What do you want?” you ask, your patience running its limit.

“Isn’t it obvious, sweetheart?” he retorts, sitting up from the bed. It is, but you don’t want to accept the reality in front of you. Satoru’s here, and he’s going to take you back. Panic runs its course through your body, your heart beating faster, your breathing uneven. Before the thought of running away even reaches your legs, he’s grabbing your arm and pulling you onto the bed. 

“Let go of me!” You struggle under his grip, but you know it’s for naught. Satoru’s always been stronger than you, and you have no chance of winning. 

“So you can run away again?”

You don’t dare meet his gaze, only for his hand to grip your cheeks together to turn you towards him.

“I’d like an answer,” he says, his face far too close for comfort, as if you’re looking at him through a kaleidoscope –  unable to escape the overwhelming image of him.

“And I’d like for you to leave,” you snap back. If you could spit at him, you would. “But I guess we both like things that are out of reach.”

“Fine, be like that,” he scoffs, “I’ll have fun either way.”

Gojo undoes the zipper of your skirt before hiking it up to your waist. You squirm under his touch, not making things much better for yourself, the fabric of your skirt rising higher and higher. All that’s left is your stockings and underwear, the last bastion against his hands. Not that it’s much of a barrier to begin with. His fingers are warm, sending an involuntary heat through you as he slides them up your thigh before pressing down on your clothed slit.

“Should probably do something about this first, huh?” 

The sound of ripped nylons fill your ears, cacophonous and dissonant. That’s one layer down. Panic fills your chest as his fingers now touch your bare skin, sending a chill up your spine. Satoru’s hand pulls the fabric of your underwear aside, and you wince at the air grazing your bare cunt.

“Wait, Satoru, stop,” you say, a distance in your voice, in disbelief that this is happening.

“Why?” he asks, craning his neck to feign confusion, “we have so much to catch up on.”

His hand presses against your slit, fingers sliding up and down to collect the arousal your body has been forming.

“At least your body’s honest about missing me,” he teases, rolling your clit in between his fingers. The motion has your back arching off the bed, only for Gojo to press your hips back down. You don’t want to give in, not to him of all people. It’s a dangerous game, once you give him what he wants, all he’ll do is take, take, take. But when he plays with your clit so naturally, and has that warm bubble of pleasure threatening to rise to the surface, it’s hard to persevere.

His hand suddenly stops, and you feel both relief in your chest, and an aching want in your core. You can only hope he’s had his fun, but hope is a fickle thing.

“You know…” He pauses, humming thoughtfully as if he has a surprise in store. “You’ve got some interesting stuff in your drawer.”

The blood in your veins go ice cold. 

“You should’ve let me know you missed me so much. I’m way better than this garbage.”

He brings out your toys from his pockets, and you can only assume he went through your stuff when he broke into your apartment. And though you’re no prude, it is embarrassing to see it laid out bare in front of you.

“I mean, is this even any good?” He ogles at the bullet vibrator, pressing the button to turn it on with a crisp click. The toy comes alive, and you shiver at the realization it’s in the hands of someone who can and will turn it into a torture device.

Satoru presses your legs against your chest, having a clear view of your bare pussy. It’s too embarrassing to match his gaze, but you have no choice as he presses the vibrator, hard onto your clit. The sudden onslaught of vibrations is met with a sharp pain, before it leaves as fast as it came. Pleasure rushes in its place, but it’s too much, too soon. Before you know it your body seizes as you come, jolts of ecstasy flashing through your body before fizzling out.

“Guess it is,” he comments with a sly smirk on his face.

You’re barely able to recover from your first orgasm before Satoru’s putting it back onto your oversensitive clit. Anticipation starts to build in your body, your muscles tightening against your will.

“Satoru, please, let me rest,” you plead. 

He responds by pressing his finger against your hole, sliding it in with little effort. Once he sees how well you take him, he’s pressing in another and a moan escapes you.

“You’ve rested plenty for the last six years,” he purrs, voice low, eyes filled with lust.

Satoru is mean with how he plays with your pussy, scissoring his fingers inside you while diligently pressing the vibrator against your clit. Tension builds in your core, low and warm. That familiar bubble starts building again, and you writhe at the promise of another orgasm. Satoru’s fingers hook into your pussy, starting a steady pace while hitting your g-spot. Your voice isn’t anything you recognize, panting and moaning sinfully with each pass. You feel it coming again, and you resign yourself to the inevitable. 

The betrayal of your body is too much for you, as you sob through your climax, muscles clamping on his fingers as you ride through it. At the very least, the main note is pleasure, even if you can feel the threat of pain creeping up on you with how sore your muscles are, how your clit throbs far after he’s removed the toys and fingers from you.

Satoru finally releases you from his grip, your legs gracelessly dropping onto the bed. 

“Thought you’d had a little more fight in you,” he quips, lips curling into a sly grin.

You’re not able to come back with a sharp retort, only able to focus on catching your breath and collecting yourself. The only thing that catches your attention is the sound of another device coming alive in his hands. 

“Ugh, this looks kinda gross,” he sneers, showcasing a seldom used self-thrusting dildo in his hand, pinching it as if he’s holding a piece of rotting fruit, “you really play with this?”

You want to respond no, you don’t use it. It was a gag gift from one of your friends who had a quirky sense of humor. The only thing that leaves your lips is a groan.

Satoru, of course, has no intention of letting you rest. He spreads your legs open, the dildo pulsing vigorously, one good thrust away from penetrating your quivering hole.

“S-Satoru, please-”

“Please what?” he asks, voice obviously mocking your desperation.

“Give me a break, just a few minutes-”

“No,” he interrupts, punctuating the end of his sentence by pushing the dildo inside of you. It’s unnatural, uncomfortable as it stretches out your pussy, scraping your walls with each thrust. It’s too deep, nearly punching the air out your lungs as it undulates.

The once comforting sound during your lonely nights now buzzes incessantly in your ears. The vibrator starts again and you find yourself running into the wall that is your bed frame. With no way to escape, Satoru presses the bullet on your aching clit, and your body tenses up yet again.

“You’re too easy to please, you know that right?” he taunts, pressing both toys harder into you. 

Words die on the tip of your tongue, morphing into soft sobs and incoherent moans. You’re sure you’re saying ‘it’s too much’ somewhere in the flurry of noises, but it doesn’t reach Satoru’s ears. Of course it doesn’t. If anything, it only has him playing rougher with your pussy, thrusting harder with the dildo, drawing circles with the vibrator.

That familiar heat starts to build in your core again, insistent and feverish. It’s a losing game, trying to fight back against it, but you try anyway. Moving your body so that the vibrator isn’t right on your puffy clit, hoping he’ll lose his strong-handed grip on the dildo, anything for a sweet, much-needed moment of respite.

You just wish you didn’t fail so quickly.

“Nope, no running away,” he says with a grin, legs wrapping around yours to keep them open, vulnerable, at his mercy. 

Satoru’s quick to catch on, why wouldn’t he be? His ministrations are unrelenting, his hand now thrusting the dildo inside you with fervor. It hits deeper than anything you’re used to, your head light and dizzy at the overwhelming sensation.

As your muscles tense, pain starts to rear its ugly head, your nerves fried and frayed at the edges. Pleasure zips past your core before immediately rushing into pain and overstimulation. Your moans start to morph into screams, limbs thrashing under Satoru’s grip as he presses his hands on your mouth.

“Geez, you’re gonna scare your neighbors, sweetie,” he says, voice laced with faux concern and an authentic pride, “bet they’ve never heard you scream this loud, right?”

The only response you can give him are muffled moans, trembling legs as you do your best to ride out the messy wave of pleasure and pain. When you finally come back down from your high, Satoru finally pulls his hand away from your mouth. Your legs spasm as he takes the dildo out of you, nearly mourning the fullness that filled you up. 

The sound of his belt unbuckling brings you back to reality, but you have no energy to protest, too wrung out and sore from your unrelenting string of orgasms.

His cock prods against your entrance, and your muscles seize in anticipation. Even with the arousal pooling around your hole, you’re not sure it’s enough to take him. You’re not sure if anything would help you take him. 

When Satoru enters you, he does so achingly slow, savoring the way your walls split to account for his girth. It’s too much, your hands gripping on to the sheets for purchase, aching with how tight you hold on to them. 

“S-Satoru, please, it hurts,” you beg, voice honeyed with the sweetest tone you can muster, hoping that he’ll relent.

“Good,” he pants out, nearly groaning as he bottoms out, “maybe you’ll think twice about leaving.”

The slow drag of him against your insides nearly drives you delirious, and your resolve flickers for a brief, fleeting moment; you almost find yourself daring to ask for more. Not that Satoru would give you a moment to think. His pace steadily builds up, and before you know it the lewd slap of skin against skin echoes throughout the room, and you can’t help but whine at the way he fills you up so perfectly. 

Satoru brings the vibrator to your clit again, and you shake your head desperately, frenzied, because you know you can’t handle it. Not that he cares – this is a punishment after all. Within moments, his cock rhythmically hits that special spot that has you keening into him, and you can feel his grin against your skin, as if it’s just a game to him, the prize being your compliance.

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, though that doesn’t stop muffled whimpers and hums from escaping your lips.

“You’re holding back, let me hear your sweet, sweet voice.” His fingers press into your lips, pressing down against your tongue, and what comes out is foreign. You’re not sure if sweet is the apt descriptor for it. Sounds more wet, more choked and coughed. You don’t want to think about the implications.

You can barely hear the snap of Satoru’s hips over your unintelligible moans, but you definitely feel the intensity of his thrusts revving up. Pressing down on your waist, holding you in place so he can fuck the deepest parts of you with pinpoint accuracy.

Tears swell in your eyes again, the sharp sting of overstimulation drawing a jolt out of you. Just a fleeting moment of tightening muscles before falling into an ache that roars in your core. You’re back in a place worse than you started, overworked nerves and a feverish heat that refuses to cool down. There’s nowhere to go, no reprieve, just Satoru holding you down as he ravages your cunt.

“Just take what I give you,” he says, more command than statement, “it’s the least you could do for me, sweetheart.”

The pet name churns your stomach, knowing that he’s blissfully entertained from the whole situation pisses you off to no end. Everything about him pisses you off really – that stupid sly smirk, the beads of sweat collecting along his forehead, and how he barely looks disheveled throughout the whole thing. And though that anger and frustration simmers in you, the promise of climax quickly envelops those feelings, a wave crashing along the shore, taking the bank’s forgotten shells and sediment as it recedes.

Satoru fucks you with a desperation you never thought you’d see in him, fracturing the blasé version of him that lives in your memory. There’s a recklessness to his pace, too hard, too fast, too deep, especially with the vibrator pressed against your clit. 

The tension in your core starts winding itself up again, but you feel it lower, deeper than all the fleeting climaxes you’ve had so far. You don’t want it, you know exactly where it’ll lead, but your body doesn’t care, walls tightening around like Satoru’s cock like it was made for this, as certain as the markings on your wrist.

“You gonna cum again? Can feel you wrappin’ around me,” Satoru pants between strokes, a smug grin on his face as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Nonono, no, I can’t-” You’re interrupted by a particularly mean thrust, only able to finish your thought with a lascivious moan.

“You already have so many times,” he coos, face pressing against yours, “I know you can.” A promise and a threat. Without any warning, Satoru presses a button on the vibrator, and it intensifies. Everything overwhelms you, the warmth of his skin pressed against yours, the fullness of him, the way his hot breath caresses you with each grunt and moan.

Another orgasm rips through you as the tension in your core snaps, muscles trembling and fluttering uncontrollably as he fucks you through it. Your voice and body don’t feel like yours, lewd moans spilling from your lips, arms wrapping around his back for support and pressing his feverish skin against yours.  

“F-fuck,” Satoru pants, and you can tell he’s close. 

With a few more strokes he’s cumming inside you, walls continuing to spasm and convulse around him as he empties hot ropes of semen in your cunt. In terms of the physical, everything about you is washed in warmth, inside and out. When Satoru removes himself from you, you wince at the emptiness and warm seed leaking from your hole. 

An uncharacteristically gentle hand pats your head as you attempt to decipher what the future holds.

“I missed you too.”

[epochofbelief]

Strictly Confidential: Chapter Six

A Modern Feysand AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

A/N: I would like to thank "girl i've always been" by Olivia Rodrigo for helping me produce this one. Thanks for your patience and your love on the last chapter. Enjoy, and let me know if you would like to be tagged.

Also, I make no promises on the accuracy of international travel, time changes, and FBI investigations from this point forward. Welcome to the world of fanfiction, everyone--everything is subject to the machinations of my own mind. 😈

Sorry if the editing is crap. Needs must, and all that.

TW: drinking/alcohol

Strictly Confidential Masterlist

My other, completed, Feysand AU: What to Expect When You're (Not) Expecting

Chapter Six

It took Rhysand two days—two days—to get in touch with Feyre after Azriel’s attack.

“I’m going to kill you,” Feyre hissed through her teeth as she stepped onto the Illyria Station platform, the final station on the Prythian City Metro Line. Rhys’s eyebrow rose at the venom in Feyre’s voice, one large hand resting on the small of her back as he guided her away from the train and through the station, up the stairs, and into an awaiting black car.

“You realize you just threatened to murder a federal prosecutor,” Rhys noted as he tapped on the window separating them from the front seats. The driver pulled away from the curb.

“What of it?” Feyre asked. “Bare threats won't get you anywhere in court.”

“Maybe so, but if you do kill me, there are plenty of witnesses on the platform who could testify to your intent.”

“Good luck tracking them down when you’re dead,” Feyre said, holding Rhys’s gaze, his eyes twinkling in the dimness of the car.

Feyre almost smiled back at him, at the way words tripped so easily off her tongue whenever Rhys was around. But she swallowed the urge, instead rolling her eyes and slumping down in the leather seat, Rhys’s eyes tracking her every move. “Are you going to tell me if Agent Lapis is alright or not, or are you just going to press me for more information on—?”

Rhys lunged forward, his large hands covering her mouth. “No names until we get to the safe house.”

He waited for her to nod, his very large body taking up so much space as he hovered over her, the scent of salt and citrus enveloping her at his closeness.

Feyre struggled to suck down a breath, and it wasn't because Rhys was covering her mouth.

“Don’t you trust your driver?” Feyre asked when Rhys removed his hands, her body suddenly cold as he slid across the leather seat, back toward his side of the car.

“Of course I do,” Rhys said. “But we can’t be too careful. After Azriel’s attack, it’s best we take a little more care with our conversations, where we are, who sees us together.”

Feyre didn’t say anything, folding her arms over her chest.

Rhys blew out a breath. “Azriel is fine. He took a bad beating, but he’s had worse. He’ll be on his feet in another day or two, albeit with a few extra bruises.”

“And do you think it was—was—” Feyre pressed her lips together, unsure if she refrained from saying Tamlin’s name because of Rhys’s caution or because she still could barely fathom that someone she had thought she knew might sanction such violent behavior.

Rhys nodded curtly. “We’ll be there in ten minutes. We can talk then.”

The ten minutes passed quickly, Feyre mentally reviewing the information she had gathered in the past few days. She had managed to glean the location of Tamlin’s next business venture by going through his phone well past midnight the night before, slipping his phone from his nightstand and hiding away in the closet until she had found something, anything that might put a stop to everything Spring Solutions was doing.

Illyria was a pleasant enough town, if a little run down. The small main street the town car carried Feyre and Rhys down boasted a few cafes, a restaurant or two, and even a bar. Feyre caught sight of a bookstore, already closed for the evening, at the very end of the street, and something else that might have been an arts and crafts shop. She continued to observe as they left the main street and entered a series of residential neighborhoods, partly because she had never visited Illyria before, and partly because it gave her something to do in such a small space with Rhys mere inches away.

At last, the driver turned into a gated neighborhood full of quaint historical homes. The car pulled into the driveway of a red-brick home, two stories tall, with black shutters and white columns. Feyre unbuckled her seat belt as the car pulled around the back of the house, entirely out of sight of the street.

“Home sweet home,” Rhys said as Feyre rounded the car to stand next to him.

“Home?” she stammered, turning to stare up at him.

“One of them,” he said. “Once upon a time.”

Feyre narrowed her eyes as he strode up the back steps, producing a small key and unlocking the back door. He stepped back to let her enter first, and Feyre slid past him, her elbow brushing his stomach as she set foot on the dark wood floors.

Rhys followed her, flicking on a light switch, a warm glow flooding the hallway as Feyre delved further into the house.

Warm dark floors stretched down the long hallway that spanned from the back door directly to the front, the rooms of the first floor on either side of the hall. To her left was a small kitchen, with white appliances, light wood cabinets, and forest green tile backsplash. To her right was a closed door that she guessed led to a bedroom or office. Rhys ushered her toward the front of the house, gesturing to a small sitting room to their right. Across the hall from the sitting room was a small dining room. Both rooms boasted floor to ceiling, built-in shelves bursting with books and trinkets of all shapes and sizes.

Feyre settled herself onto a grey couch in the sitting room, gazing around the small space as Rhys ensured the curtains facing the street were drawn shut.

“This is your house?” Feyre asked as Rhys, satisfied with the curtains, crossed the plush red rug to the fireplace on the far wall, leaning down to start it with the push of a button. Flames danced to life in the hearth, Feyre’s brows raising at the sight. The house itself felt old, quaint. But the fixtures—the fireplace, the chandelier above them, even the appliances in the kitchen, were all quite modern.

“I grew up here,” Rhys said. “It was my mother’s house. My father didn’t want it—hasn’t been here in years—after she died. He gave it to me, told me to sell it if I wished. I thought about it for a while. It’s too far from the city for me to live in full-time. But I couldn’t stomach the thought of someone else living here. So I decided to keep it, update some of the appliances, the heating system, all that, thinking one day I would sell it for a higher price after all the improvements. But I… haven’t.”

“It’s lovely,” Feyre said.

Rhys gave a brisk grin, sitting down on the couch across from Feyre and clasping his hands between his knees. “Azriel and Mor should be down any minute.”

Feyre's brows creased, but Rhys shook his head. “Azriel’s staying here while he recuperates, and Mor arrived about an hour before us to check on him and make sure things were in order for this meeting. It's nothing... like that."

Feyre nodded, filing away the information for later.

They sat in comfortable silence while they awaited, and the creaking ceiling above Feyre told her Mor and Azriel were aware of the scheduled meeting and coming to meet them any second. Indeed, they emerged from the narrow staircase that occupied part of the central hallway, Azriel’s face several shades of black, blue, and yellow bruises.

“Gods above,” Feyre breathed, leaping to her feet and meeting Azriel halfway across the room. “Are you alright?” She asked, arms reaching toward him before she realized she wasn’t sure what to do with them.

But Azriel softly gripped her upper arms, his swollen lip breaking into a small smile. “I’m fine, Feyre. Occupational hazard.”

Feyre let Azriel lead her over to the couch after she greeted Mor, who had frozen in the hallway, gazing wide-eyed at Feyre and Azriel. At Feyre's "Hello," Mor swallowed, stepping into the living room at last.

“You were truly concerned for him,” Mor noted, taking a seat next to Rhys as Feyre forced Azriel to sit down first before she settled herself next to him.

Feyre folded her arms, glaring at Rhys. “Ask his Royal Highness the United States Attorney.”

“She threatened to kill me for making her wait this long,” Rhys admitted, eyes never leaving Feyre’s.

“Well, you’ve seen me. I’m fine,” Azriel said in that soft, but cutting, voice of his. “And I appreciate it, Feyre. I really do.”

Feyre tore her gaze from Rhys’s violet eyes and met Azriel’s hazel ones, nodding once before she strengthened her resolve.

“I know where Tamlin’s going next,” she announced.

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

One week later, the plans were arranged.

Cassian and Mor would board a plane for northern Washington State, hours after the private plane Lucien and Tamlin had chartered that would take them to the same place. The agents had arranged to rent a car to follow the two Spring Solutions higher-ups to the manufacturing plant that Tamlin had arranged a relationship with. Thanks to the vague map Feyre had found that first night of her sleuthing, the group had determined the estimated location of the exchange—the place Tamlin would accept responsibility for the non-compliant environmental materials. Then, the FBI Agents would trail whatever transport Tamlin had arranged until he either stored it or disposed of it. At that point, they hoped to have witnessed enough illegal activity that there would be plenty of cause to make an arrest—or at the very least to bring charges against Tamlin and Spring Solutions and end the illegal operation once and for all.

The plan made sense, despite the limited information it was based upon. The agents had planned everything to perfection. The intel Feyre had provided had allowed them to skirt the problem they had run into time and time again—because Tamlin and Lucien flew privately, under an ever-changing roster of company names other than Spring Solutions, and were careful to take nondescript vehicles to the private airport, it was difficult for the FBI to follow the duo when they jetted off to consult with their next client. But Feyre’s provision of the location had changed everything. The entire case might be resolved in less than a day.

Feyre, however, was pissed.

She had provided the information. She was the one who continued to stay with Tamlin, who still slept in his bed, in order to get this information for the FBI. And yet she hadn’t been invited to come along for the bust.

It was infuriating, and the worst kind of insult. She had spent the better part of an hour arguing with Rhys, Mor, and Azriel about it as they had discussed the information in Rhysand’s mother’s home that night a week ago.

It all came down to protocol, however, and civilians weren’t to be pulled into such dangerous surveillance activities if it was avoidable. And unfortunately, Feyre was a mole and nothing more. Cassian and Mor were the FBI agents, and they would be taking the lead in the investigation. Not even Rhysand was going.

Feyre lay on her couch, her casebooks unopened on the coffee table next to her as she stared at the clock on her phone. She was at least trusted enough to be told what time Cassian and Mor’s plane would be taking off—2:27 p.m.

Feyre rolled her eyes. What an honor.

The clock turned to 2:28, and she knew they were gone.

Feyre sighed, rolling off the couch and laying on the floor for a minute. Then two. Then three.

If they didn’t catch Tamlin—what then? How much longer would she need to stay here?

Feyre knew she could change her mind at any point. The FBI, and Rhysand, wouldn’t blame her. But what then? How could she live with herself knowing she had taken away the FBI’s only viable opportunity to bring down Spring Solutions?

No, Feyre didn’t have a choice. She was in this until Tamlin discovered her treachery or he was behind bars.

Eventually, Feyre peeled herself off the floor and padded through the empty apartment toward her closet.

Sure, it was 2:28 pm on a Friday, but Feyre didn’t have plans for the rest of the day.

Or the rest of the weekend.

So why not jump into her pajamas and read for her Corporations Law class until her eyes ceased focusing properly?

Feyre snorted at herself as she flicked on the light in the closet. Here she was, an informant for the FBI, a job that sounded so glamorous, so important, so mysterious.

And yet it was mid-afternoon on a Friday and Feyre was already shedding her bra for the day.

What was her life?

She sighed as she crossed to the enormous dresser against one of the walls of the closet. She shoved aside the suit jacket Tamlin had worn that morning, hastily discarded over the top of the dresser, the fabric emitting a faint crinkling sound as it hit the floor.

She had just reached into the drawer to retrieve the tattered old t-shirt and sweatpants that she slept in when she froze, slowly turning to gaze at the navy blazer, crumpled on the floor at her feet.

Because that crinkling sound. . . That wasn't just fabric.

Feyre knelt, sweatpants forgotten as she fished through the pockets of Tamlin’s jacket. A month ago, she wouldn’t have even considered doing this. Wouldn’t have been so hyperaware of everything having to do with her boyfriend, so anxious that the sound of what was probably a gum wrapper wouldn't have raised her hackles.

But a month ago, she hadn't known her boyfriend was a criminal mastermind.

Feyre drew out a small slip of paper from the inside breast pocket of the jacket.

It was a receipt.

A receipt for a set of plane tickets.

And in tiny black script across the top was the destination of those tickets, scheduled for that day, October 7th, at 10:53 a.m:

Dublin, Ireland.

Fuck.

---------

“Where the hell are you, Feyre?”

Rhysand’s voice was so loud in her phone speaker that Feyre actually held it several inches away from her ear as she responded.

“The airport…”

“You’re kidding. " Feyre heard what sounded like a door slamming in the background of the call. "You are actually calling me because you thought it would be fun to give me a heart attack as a prank, and you’re actually home right now, on your couch, watching The Nanny or whatever ridiculous show you and Mor were discussing the other night in Illyria. You’re not at the airport about to board a flight to Dublin because your boyfriend purposefully set a red herring in case anyone was on his tail.”

Feyre didn’t respond, just smiled at the woman manning the security line Feyre currently stood in, shedding her shoes with her one available hand, the other holding her phone to her ear.

“Feyre. Tell me I’m right. Tell me you’re not at the airport.”

“Can’t, sorry. Oh, hold on, gotta send my phone through the x-ray machine thing.”

Feyre ignored Rhys’s protests, placing her phone on the x-ray belt, call with Rhys still active, before she stepped into the line to go through the human scanning machine.

It was at least five minutes before she made it through the line and retrieved her stuff from the security belt. To her surprise, Rhys was still on the line when she retrieved her phone.

“Turn around right now. What are you planning to do when you get to Ireland? Find Tamlin and confront him yourself?”

“Of course not!” Feyre exclaimed, checking the departures board and smiling as she saw that her flight was right on time, although in her eagerness to get to the airport, she had arrived much too early. She had at least an hour before boarding the flight that would take her from Prythian to New York, where she would transfer to a flight to Ireland. “I just want to follow him and record everything he does.”

Except for vague background noise, and something that sounded like the rumble of traffic, the line remained quiet for several long moments.

“I swear, Feyre Archeron, if I die before I turn thirty, it’ll be because of you and this gods-damned case.”

“You’ll thank me later!” Feyre said brightly, and hung up the phone.

An hour later, Feyre had shuffled toward her gate with the rest of those boarding her flight to New York. She had spent the last hour consuming two glasses of wine at the airport bar, her productivity while reading for her Environmental Law class sharply declining as her glass emptied. Her original intention had been to stick with one small glass of wine so that she might fall asleep more easily on her flight.

But after half an hour of staring at her textbook, a sizable pit had formed deep in her stomach. Was she truly flying to Ireland for the weekend? Chasing Tamlin halfway across the world to—to what? To make up for the fact that she had fallen for the red herring Tamlin had left in his emails, had given the FBI wrong information, and sent them in the complete opposite direction of Tamlin’s true destination? She had nowhere to stay when she got to Ireland, no idea where to start on finding transport to whatever location Tamlin had arranged his rendezvous.

So Feyre had ordered another glass of wine, and downed most of it in the last ten minutes before her flight started boarding.

Thus the world had taken on a softer light, a slower quality that had loosened Feyre’s shoulders so much that she didn’t even care about the nearby toddler who had been crying for the last half hour, or the strong smell of weed emitting from the woman in front of her, or the enormous man who was standing a little too close to her, smelling of citrus and the sea and—

Feyre whirled around.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded when her eyes met violet ones, the intensity of Rhys’s gaze reminding her of her tipsiness.

“You thought I was going to let you run off to Ireland by yourself?”

Feyre bit her lip, suddenly wishing she hadn’t had that second glass of wine. Rhys was so poised, dressed in his signature black suit, pressed to perfection even after what must have been a long day at work. The shadow of a beard graced the lower half of his face, and his sea salt scent caressed her, pulling her closer. . .

Feyre blinked once. Then twice, reaching an arm out to steady herself against one of the barriers used to corral the boarding line.

Rhys's eyes narrowed. “Are you—drunk?” He asked, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice.

Feyre folded her arms. “I’m not drunk,” she insisted. “I had a two glasses of wine.”

“You can barely stand up straight,” Rhys noted, pocking her shoulder with a finger.

Feyre flashed her palms up at the prosecutor. “I’m fine, see? I was having a perfectly wonderful time until you decided to show up and crash my spontaneous trip to a foreign country.” She didn't mention the wave of relief that was sweeping through her even now, as she realized she wouldn't be leaving the country for the first time all by herself.

“Did you tell Mor and Cassian?” She asked, changing the subject, although the creeping grin on Rhys’s face told her he wouldn't let this go anytime soon.

And for some reason, Feyre didn’t mind that he found her amusing.

Tamlin would have told her she was being unprofessional, would have chastised her for doing something as unsafe as getting a little tipsy in the safety of an airport. Even though he and Lucien drank during their own travels, Tamlin would see Feyre’s unsteadiness as a weakness, something she should only do with him around.

And while Rhys was laughing at her, she didn’t feel . . . judged. Teased, yes, and perhaps a little embarrassed. But not ashamed.

Rhys gave a curt nod. “They’re staying the night in Washington and flying back tomorrow. Weather conditions are awful up there, so no planes, even private ones, are going up until the morning.”

“Will they fly over to meet us?” Feyre asked, falling into step beside Rhys as the line started moving, bringing them closer and closer to the gate.

Rhys shook his head. “If this trip is as short as Tamlin told you it would be, by the time they got to Ireland, they would have to board the plane to come back again.”

“So we’re on our own,” Feyre muttered, allowing the flight attendant to scan her boarding pass.

“We’re on our own,” Rhys echoed as they stepped onto the jetway.

------

It was a very long night. Feyre slept for most of both of their flights, occasionally waking up to turbulence or to use the restroom or eat the snacks the flight attendants provided. Every time she did, Rhys was a solid presence next to her, wide awake and reading through various legal documents on his laptop, his privacy screen preventing her from glimpsing much. If he slept at all, Feyre never saw it.

When they touched down in Dublin, Feyre jolted awake, something soft against her temple. She looked up, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she met Rhys’s stare.

“Sleep well?” Rhys asked, shifting in his seat, the movement jostling her.

She reared back, tearing her forehead from where it had been resting on Rhys’s shoulder. “Yes, I—I did,” she said, sure her cheeks were burning bright red. She had slept on his shoulder. Had probably drooled all over him while he read his professional legal documents and thought of her as a very silly, very impulsive young law student. “Sorry,” she said, running a hand through her hair.

But Rhys only shrugged, folding up his laptop and sliding it into the backpack beneath the seat in front of him. “No need to apologize. I’m positive my shoulder is much more comfortable than the window.”

Feyre huffed out a breath, a grin tugging at her cheek as she thought about just how muscular Rhys's shoulder was—if it was more comfortable than the window, it was only by a margin.

“What time is it?” She asked.

“Dublin time?” Rhys looked at his watch, Feyre’s eyes tracking the flick of his wrist. “About seven am. . . Prythian time? Two am. What time did you say Tamlin’s meeting was?”

“Not until this afternoon—two or three.”

“Plenty of time to find a hotel, then, because someone decided to come all the way over here without a plan,” Rhys said, his fingers gripping her chin lightly for a fleeting moment, his lips pursing as he gazed down at her.

“Come on, Night,” Feyre said, following him from their seats and out into the aisle. “Live a little.”

Feyre regretted those words two hours later, after the only hotel with a vacancy they could find had one room available--with only one bed.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything else? We’ll even take a bed and a pull-out couch,” Feyre pleaded with the receptionist, who was so busy staring as Rhysand that Feyre doubted the woman even heard her question.

“What was it you said to me on the plane, Feyre darling?” Rhys asked, glancing down at her from the corner of his eye, his fingers tapping on the front desk. “Live a little?”

Feyre groaned, exhaustion tugging at her limbs, at her very soul, despite the sleep she had managed to find on the plane. “Fine.” She snatched the keys out of Rhys’s hand and stomped over to the elevator, arms crossed.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Rhys offered as Feyre led the way down the hall, her suitcase rattling behind her.

“That’s ridiculous,” Feyre said. “It’s a king bed. Plenty of space.”

What was she saying? No amount of bed space would be enough if she was sharing it with Rhys. He was so . . . all-consuming. Feyre could feel him behind her even now, though she knew he was several feet away.

She unlocked their room, Rhys’s arm sliding above her head to hold the door so she could drag her suitcase inside.

"Thank you," she said quietly, swallowing at the gesture.

Neither of them spoke as they took turns in the bathroom, each taking a quick shower to rinse off the travel. Feyre let Rhys go first, insisting that she had to call her father anyway. But instead of calling, she sat on her side of the bed and thought about what Tamlin would say if he knew she was sharing a hotel room with another man.

Even if her relationship with Tamlin had an expiration date, even if it was over in Feyre’s mind . . . It wasn’t over in Tamlin’s.

Sharing a bed with Rhys, sleeping on his shoulder, flirting with him . . . It was one of the worst betrayals, no matter what Tamlin had or had not done. She knew her boyfriend would be livid if he knew about what she was doing with Rhys. Even if nothing had happened between them, even if Feyre wasn’t sure she felt anything more than sexual attraction for the federal prosecutor who had suddenly turned her entire life upside down... It was wrong.

Even if being with Rhys brought out a side to her that had long been dormant. She spent all of her time with Tamlin and Lucien these days.

How long had it been since she had joked with a new friend? Spent time with someone who shared her interests, her career path? Done something just because she wanted to?

She had booked an international flight without a second thought, for crying out loud.

She had never done something like that before.

And Rhys had followed. With some grumbling, yes, but he hadn’t tried to drag her out of the airport or convince her to change her mind.

And perhaps he cared more about indicting Tamlin than he did about Feyre’s safety, but . . . Feyre couldn’t shake the feeling that Rhys understood just how badly she wanted to see Tamlin pay for his actions. That he understood the guilt that clawed at her in the middle of the night, the guilt that told her she should have seen it, should have recognized that there was something fishy about Tamlin’s business, should have done something long ago to stop it, something that might have prevented what Rhys’s sister had endured…

Feyre was startled out of her spiraling thoughts by the sound of the bathroom door swinging open, Rhysand emerging in nothing but black sweats, his hair still damp from the shower.

Feyre’s mouth went dry.

“I, ah, left my shirt out here,” Rhys offered, crossing the room to his suitcase, every muscle on display.

Feyre bit her lip at the sight of his cheeks, which had turned every-so-slightly pink, before she averted her gaze.

She didn’t say anything, simply grabbing her stuff and shutting the bathroom door behind her.

Tamlin would certainly object to the sight of a shirtless Rhysand.

Feyre took a very, very cold shower.

---

Taglist:

@rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @marinated-fish @riribbonss @tunaababee @acourtofbatboydreams @clockworkgraystairs @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

[shirohige-pirates]

Birds of a Feather

CisFem Reader x Marco

CW: Violence, blood, language, adult themes and scenes. 18+ only

Summary: Life has not been kind to you. After a string of bad relationships, you're a little jaded and a little depressed in all honestly. The worst day of your life seems to be the turning point, but the roller coaster ride that follows could either throw you soaring free, or have you caged forever?

Tag List: @clumsyraccoon

Chapter 30: Brotherly Rage

Teach hangs up the phone and adjusts you so he’s carrying you almost kindly. He begins to walk up the stairs and you’re not sure what to say.

Saying what you want seems a poor choice.

Saying nothing is making you sick with nerves and you can’t ignore the pain that way.

“How much?” You ask quietly as he sets you on a counter in the bathroom.

“How much what, trinket?”

You bit back the urge to snap at him. “How much money are you trying to get?”

“One point five billion berry.” He answers flatly, turning on the shower.

“Why?”

“None of your business, trinket.”

“I’m not a-.”

“Yer Marco’s most precious little bauble.” He interrupts curtly. “His greatest gods-lovin’ treasure, if you ask me. I haven’t seen him give two shits about someone for years after he an’ that red-headed cunt went their separate ways." His voice is neutral, business and nothing else. Talking more to keep you from asking him annoying questions, you were sure.

“Sure he loves that clinic, probably cares about the employees enough, I could’ve done somethin’ with anyone ah them.” He admits, moving his hand away from the water stream. “You got two choices trinket. Strip and clean yourself up, or get uselessly shy and I’ll strip you and clean you myself. Can’t patch yer wounds until we clean that plaster an’ such away.”

You slip off the counter, moving toward the tub as you slowly start to pull off your clothes. “I can clean myself without help or supervision.” You insist, wincing again the pain of cuts and bruises you didn’t want to think about right now.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight, trinket. Devil fruit users are slicker’n snot and I don’t know what yours does.”

“Humph. Nothing.” You grumble the words, making sure your practiced disdain seeps out naturally.

The sound of Teach’s strike was the only warning you had, and you turned your head enough to make what would’ve been a brain rattling strike into something that only split your lip and bruised the side of your face. Even with your reaction it still nearly took you off your feet.

“Don’t lie to me again, trinket.” He warns, stepping back in the small bathroom and giving you some illusion of space.

There was no curtain around the tub and shower. You left your under clothes on and Teach didn’t tell you to take them off. You washed blood, shards of wood and plaster off as best as you could, pulling a few large splinters free on your own.

“Hmph, I expected to see your wounds just close up.” He grumbles. “Dry off, and sit back on the counter, I’ll do the rest.”

“I’m… not going to die from this.” You say the words carefully, glancing at him as you shuffle your way to the counter.

“Probably not.” He agrees, but doesn’t say anything else.

You finish drying off and hop up onto the counter, seated so he can reach your back fairly easily. Teach pulls out a few pieces of debris you hadn’t been able to reach, pouring on disinfectant and pulling a hissed swear from you before he put bandages on what needed it.

“Grab yer clothes and sit by the fire until your underpants dry and then get dressed.”

You nod, grabbing up your clothes and heading out of the room. You’re patched up, but everything still hurts. The bruises are going to ache for days at least, and it burns like glass and fire just to breathe. Despite your hobbling nature, Teach isn’t ever more than a pace or two away from you. You wish you were fit enough to be irritated by it, but trying to run now would earn you little more than another beating.

The only thing that irritated you at this exact moment was that you could get away. But that would mean using your devil fruit in front of someone, and you hadn’t even used your devil fruit privately for almost a decade at this point.

You had been painfully careful about using it when you first arrived on this island. After a while there were idle comments from Ivankov that made you decide to just stop using it altogether. How much you seemed to know, how well-read you were, how she didn’t remember giving you books on certain topics.

Nothing accusatory, nothing cruel. Idle musings from someone who was beaming with pride, but his words made you anxious. If Ivan had noticed, then others might eventually, and if others noticed, then your secret would be out, and the island would be in danger.

If you thought Teach was going to kill you, you’d use it.

If you thought he was going to kill anyone, you’d use it.

You pulled on your clothes once the fire had dried you enough that you wouldn’t have to worry about cold soggy bottoms. To Teach’s credit, he didn’t once make any comments about your appearance, and you never felt or saw him leering at you.

He was a bastard, but apparently he wasn’t that kind of bastard.

Still, if he had even an inkling of what your powers were, you were certain that he’d no longer give a shit about a few billion berries. The prize for just having information on you or the fruit was substantial. If they didn’t kill him outright for knowing who you were, the prize for turning you in was probably enough to turn Heun prosperous for a century or two.

That kind of money made fools of saints, and a saint Teach was not.

“Now we sit here and wait?” You question, staying seated near the hearth, careful not to let your clothes catch the flames.

“Yup.” Teach replies, comfy in the big recliner chair near where he’d first pretended to plug in your phone.

“… Any chance I could actually charge my phone now?”

Teach ponders it for a moment, grabbing the charger and your phone and tossing them over to you. Looking around you realize there’s an outlet not too far away from you and so you plug everything in and focus on it until it has enough juice you can power it up.

You glance up at Teach as it boots up, but he’s just looking back at you. He’s not getting ready to knock it out of your hand, or say anything, so you continue using it.

There’s a few missed calls, and some missed texts, almost all of them within the last few minutes.

Marco: Did you get lost?

Marco: Pretty bird?

Marco: We found your car, I hope you’re okay.

Marco: It’s going to be okay, my love, I promise.

The few minutes between the second to last and last message really put into perspective how little time had passed. The short window that Teach had created. The efficiency with which he had used those precious few minutes.

You decide to reply to the texts. If Teach didn’t want you to send messages via text, he wouldn’t have let you charge your phone in the first place. Whatever he and Marco had agreed on, whatever he had planned, he wasn’t concerned about you, that much was obvious.

You: I know.

You: I’m okay. Cleaned up, and patched up. He hasn’t done anything.

A response from Marco was so quick you almost dropped the phone.

Marco: How did you get hurt?

You: Tried to run. Spit on his phone. He nearly put me through a wall. It looked worse than it is. I’m sore, but I’m okay.

Marco: I’m so sorry.

You: No. You didn’t do this. Don’t apologize.

You: I love you. It’ll be okay, like you said.

Marco: I’ll be there as fast as I can.

“You drink all that cocoa?” Teach asks, pulling your attention up from the phone.

You give him a long look for a moment, and then answer curtly. “No.”

“Yer a smart girl, trinket.”

“I feel a bit like an idiot for having ended up here.” You admit, aggravation in your voice.

“Eh... You gonna tell me what kind of devil fruit you got?”

“Nope.”

“If I tell you, ya have to?” He says, voice low and dangerous.

You consider quietly for a moment, and answer without looking at him. “I’d say you don’t have the time to break me, and if you kill me, you’ll never see a single berry again.”

“Been tortured before, have ye?”

You’re quite for a long moment. The honest answer is, no, you haven’t been tortured before. You’ve been emotionally manipulated and worn down, nearly convinced to hand over your freedom for the sake of a family who saw you collateral and not as a human. You’ve been desperate to survive in a world you knew very little about while also coming to terms with what you assumed would be an inevitably early death.

In the end, you’d survived. Whether by luck or fate didn’t really matter.

“We’ll just say I’m currently inclined to die before I answer your question.”

“I can appreciate that.”

Teach’s attempt to have a conversation between the two of you died after that. You left your phone alone while it charged, letting your mind and eyes wander in the flames of the hearth. Everything ached, your body hurt indiscriminately, but your cheek throbbed the most.

Tension was making your jaw set harshly, and that was making your cheek hurt, and that just made all the rest of your muscles tense. The only pain relief you had was to relax, and the only thing you couldn’t do was relax.

The time ticked away slowly.

Slowly, but inevitably, as the fire in the hearth began to visibly die down.

You shifted away from the hearth as Teach stood up and tossed a couple more logs onto it. He paused after he got it rolling properly, and looked out the window.

“Ah, he’s here.”

You look over to see the signs of headlights pulling up to the house as a rough hand grabs you by the back of your shirt, hauling you onto your feet and pulling you toward the back of the house. You hiss in pain, the swift action is like needles against your back, even with the bandages. You scramble to keep your feet under you as he throws you at the desk in the office room.

“Keep your hands on it.” He commands, and you hear the click of the pistol from earlier. Your back’s to the door that leads into the office, but you can see Teach as he moves to other side of it, the barrel pointed in your direction. “First hand to leave that desk is the one you lose, got it?”

“Yeah.” You force yourself to breathe, keeping your hands flat on the desk. Having your back to the door is hard. Not being able to see him, not being able to have some way of grounding yourself. So you focused on the desk when the front door opens.

Focused on the desk when you heard him call out for Teach.

Focused on the desk when Teach yelled for him to come to the office.

Focused on the desk when the hairs on your body stood on end, the barrel of Teach’s pistol suddenly far more threatening than it had been. You weren’t watching him, but you could feel his finger on the trigger.

“Set the bag down.” Teach instructs. You can’t see Marco, but you can tell where he is. Something from him reaches out to you. The first truly warm sensation you’ve felt since your car died.

You hear the fwump of a cloth bag hit the floor. It certainly sounds loud enough to have all the money in it Teach wants.

“Aim that at me.” Marco demands, and Teach laughs.

“Not a chance. Sea stone bullets or not, the first shot’s going in her. Hand, head, or heart depends on how you two behave.” You hear the gun cock and a cold shiver tenses your muscles. “Behave well enough, and all the bullets stay in the gun.”

Marco puts his hands up in surrender and Teach’s demeanor shifts.

“Now that’s what I like to see.” He grins, shifting around the room and out of your view. You feel the barrel of the pistol press against the back of your head. “There’s a pair o’ cuffs in the desk drawer, I suggest you put them on.”

Marco moves into your view, taking up Teach’s original position behind the desk. You look up at him, moving as little as possible. His eyes are hard and cold, locked on Teach. You both know your options will be far more limited with Marco in cuffs, but all Teach has to do is sneeze and it’ll be the end of you.

“Where’s the key, yoi?” He questions, pulling a pair of heavy iron shackles out of the drawer, and putting them on. Sweat beads on his skin, the color draining from his face and he nearly loses his footing. You almost move to help him, but you remember Teach’s words and keep your hands on the desk.

You’re so close. Close, and so painfully far away. Marco tries to stay standing, but the effect of the sea stone is too much and he sits in the chair so heavily it scrapes backward across the floor a couple inches with a sickening screech.

“Nasty strong, aren’t they?” Teach laughs. You can see strain etched on Marco’s face. He looks older than he’s ever looked before, it’s almost like the sea stone is poisoning him. “The key’s upstairs somewhere.” He adds idly.

You turn, mind already on the task of setting off after that key once Teach leave, when a strong hand pushes the middle of your back swiftly, slamming you flat onto the desk. You yelp from the unexpected attack, and can hear the chains of Marco’s shackles shift, Teach’s name on his lips in the shape of a swear. There’s a loud crack, and with cold dread you realize Teach has fired the gun.

“Move up out of that chair again, brother,” Teach says flatly. “And we’ll both learn if she’s got the kind of devil fruit what saves a person from being shot.

“Or not.”

Even with the cuffs on, you can feel his anger in the air. You want to tell him to calm down, that the anger’s just going to burn through what energy he has, but you’d be just as angry if the situation was reversed.

“Now that everyone is in an amenable position, I’m going to tell you a story. One that will be interesting to both of you.” You can hear the glee in his voice and it’s pissing you off.

“I’d start from the beginning, but ol’ Marco here knows most of it, so let’s just skip to, Roger tried to save the world and bloody failed. Sure he made it better, but not better enough. No pirates, and no real freedom either, a total loss. So what’s a gent like me to do?” Teach’s hand tightens it’s grip on your back and you hiss in a breath of pain.

“Ah, sorry, trinket.”

“What did you call her?” Marco’s voice was strained from the seastone, but it was tight with fear suddenly.

“Zhe-hahaha, you do remember!” Teach grabs you by the back of your neck and yanks you up. Your feet aren’t touching the floor, and your thighs are braced against the edge of the desk. Teach is too big for you to do anything but dangle, but he’s also almost palming your shoulders, so it’s not hard to breathe.

“There’s two devil fruits I’ve always been after, trinket.” Teach says, certainly talking more to you than Marco, but the two brothers were keeping a sharp watch on each other. “One, I got. Found the Dark Fruit a couple years ago. Just from wandering around the Grandline. Laying about like it was waiting for me. It’s always been part of a greater plan of mine, one that, admittedly, was easier to see come to fruition before the King ‘o Pirates screwed the world.

“The other was a fruit most people didn’t think was actually a devil fruit. All descriptions of it defy what we expect. Smooth, unpatterned, perfectly round, no stem or anything. So smooth and flawless it was more like a pearl than a fruit.”

All the blood drains from you. You were certain Teach could feel your body go cold.

“It had become an heirloom of sorts. Given to cross-island Nobles and Royalty looking to make political alliances. Not a gift, so much as a symbol.

“A trinket.”

Your throat goes dry. Eyes that hadn’t been looking at anything landed on Marco’s. You hadn’t told him the specifics of your devil fruit, anymore than he’d told you the specifics of his. But it seems, for different reasons, and in different ways, you both knew something about the other by accident.

“Turns out this little bauble was lost, last it was gifted, and everyone wanted it back. Not just the Royal family that had gifted it, but also the World Government, and they wanted it so bad that there was talk about just unleashing a buster call on the island to wipe everyone out. Dead bodies means the fruit would reform somewhere at least, yeah?”

You felt like you were going to be sick. You knew your home island hadn’t been leveled by a buster call, you kept your eye out for news about it all the time. You didn’t know the island’s name, but a buster call was devastation that couldn’t be buried.

But, you also knew why they wouldn’t risk it.

A devil fruit user on the island was a needle in a single haystack. The devil fruit itself could pop up literally anywhere. The needle then became one in one of thousands of haystacks. Even if they wanted to keep the details of the fruit secret, they wanted the fruit more.

“Seems I’m a damn sight better at talkin’ to the locals than the Government.” Teach continues, leaning over you enough to talk right into your ear. “Cause I found this one homeless scamp, had the most interesting story about a girl sharing a fruit with him. Taking a bite out of it to prove it wasn’t poisoned.”

“Teach.” Marco’s voice was desperate, caught between fear and anger.

“You know they’re offering three billion berries just for information?” He says, ignoring Marco. “What would they offer me if I brought the precious little trinket back?”

“Don’t,” Marco insists, the keening scrape of metal against metal as he tried to move. To plead, to beg if he needed to. “Teach, I’ll get you every berri on this island, don’t.”

“Do you know what her devil fruit is, brother dear?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His anger is gone, almost completely replaced by fear.

“Listen to you. You fell even harder than I thought. Well, it’s my fault, I should’ve followed my instincts from the beginning, pulled you off the street when you had that pup in your hands. I didn’t expect you to go back to the clinic again. Getting a lift from my frustratingly astute brother both times.”

“Friday… when I went to visit Azul.” You close your eyes in frustration. “I wasn’t imagining things.”

“Oh-ho-ho, you’re sharper than I thought. The dog must’ve been distracting you.” Teach laughs. “Marco really did land quite the rare bird!”

“Do you know?” You question. You’re trying to force yourself to be calm, to focus on the one thing that Teach’s fruit doesn’t let him suppress. It’s not something you’re easily capable of using, but you only need it for a moment to break his hold.

“Eh?”

“What it does?” You prompt, eyes on Marco as you try to focus on the energy that pulses through every person. Roger wielded it like breathing, even today certain marines were renown for their control of it. You could get there, you just needed time to focus. Haki was a gift bestowed upon the masses, but what use did an accountant have for it?

A lot, apparently. You admonish yourself for a second, wishing you’d spent at least a little more time honing the skill. Being able to use it was all well and good, but you needed too much time to concentrate on it for it to be useful in a fight.

“You asked me what it did earlier, but if you know so much, you must have some idea.” You lick your lips, trying to buy as much time as possible.

“I know it lets you transform.” Teach scoffs. “Not that I imagine that’s the truth of it, are you going to finally tell me, trinket? Is it something good enough to convince me not to turn ya in, eh?”

“Something like that. I can say at least it has the potential to earn you far more than the meager billions the Government would offer, assuming they even let you live for your troubles.” You explain as calmly as you can. Your stomach’s in so many knots you think the only reason you haven’t tossed the contents of it all over the desk is because you’re too nervous to puke.

“You’re really talking it up, trinket.” Teach says, a warning edge in his voice. You cut in before he can continue.

“Let go of me, just for a minute, and I’ll show you a library with all the knowledge of this world contained within it. Everything. The lost centuries, how to read poneglyphs, all the islands of the world mapped, ways to navigate the grandline without a log pose.” You say it quickly, making sure you get it all out before nerves or Teach’s lack of patience cuts you short.

Teach’s hand tightens, and he pushes you into the desk to the point that it’s hard to breathe against the added pressure. The pressure and rough grip persist until you cry out and squirm, the desire to breathe and get away from the pain overtaking your fear of getting shot.

“Betray me, trinket, and I’ll teach you things you can’t learn from a book.” He promises before finally letting up.

You sucked in a greedy breath, filling burning lungs despite the compounding pain of breathing so deeply in the first place. You hold a hand up toward Marco, as coughs make your whole body shudder. It takes you a minute to catch your breath, and in that time you slip off the desk and sit on the floor, looking up at Teach as you regain your composure.

The pistol’s in his hand, but at least for now he’s just pointing it down at the floor and not at anyone. All that concentration and build up to use haki, and now you didn’t even need it. You couldn’t believe the dumb luck that this idiot actually let go of you.

You consider saying something, doing something. Some final words or motion to bid him farewell, but instead, you just open the doors to the Library.

Right under his fucking feet.

[galacticwildfire]

Fire Meet Gasoline | Poe Dameron

Five

Poe Dameron x Solo Original Character

Hope Solo’s haunted by the night the temple burned. Having gone rogue she hunts the First Order in search of answers until a fateful encounter with Poe Dameron brings her back to the Resistance and Leia puts her daughter under his command to find Luke Skywalker.

Word count: 8.8k

Tags/warnings: poe pov, threepio trying to parent, leia going for round two, poe sitting back and realising what he's getting himself into, snap being a wingman for both of them with non homicidal big brother vibes, mentions of setting people on fire, oc is delusional with anger issues, mild brat taming, mentions of lightsaber wounds and blood, a little flirting towards the end, the beginning of the on/off between them.

All my stories are written for adults with adult themes, I use appropriate tags but read at your discretion.

A/N: so i've got about five chapters of the prequel up on ao3, it isn't a romantic or ship story so it won't get any attention here but if you're interested I have it linked on my masterlist.

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Hope

It's late when I find myself still walking around base looking for R2. For a droid who refuses to let me out of his sight he's quite happy to disappear now, maybe we've been a little at odds due to my career choices these past months, so I know this is a form of payback. Droids are programmed for loyalty but I dare say Luke altered some of that programming when he made R2 my official guardian on Naboo, to pull me into line and report back instead of blindly facilitating my poor choices.

If R2 is one thing, he is a droid who does not forgive or forget, and as it turns out he remembers Hondo Ohnaka and Boba Fett quite well and has quite explicitly told me off time and time again for working for them with very colourful language. I'm still convinced Luke altered his programming and I'd try to rewire it but it just feels wrong to do that to R2. To me he's more of a sentient being than most lifeforms and I'm not going to pick his wires apart just so he's easier to get on with.

He is my best friend after all.

I want to take off, to go somewhere to clear my head. Like Snap said, leaving and not coming back might be a bit excessive, but I need more time to wrap my head around the fact I'm no longer a captain and am likely going to be on permanent probation. Maybe I'll check in with my contacts to see if they've got any leads on the Irving Boys and where the Falcon could be, give it one last shot before facing the music, but I hate going anywhere without R2, and that's where Korrie finds me, in the hanger still looking for him.

"You're back," she says, not quite pleased but not as panicked as Brance. Although I can't truly blame her, she was one of the few who'd tried to help me and I'd shut her out. One of the only friends I had on Hosnian Prime as a teenager since she'd interned for Mom, just another one I cut out without any real reason to other than the fact I can't stand seeing someone look at me with pity, or something worse.

"Yeah," I say, managing a smile. "I um- I took a sabbatical."

"Sure," she says but she's too close to my Mom to believe that, everyone above a certain level of command knows just why I left even if it seems the rest of base believes I just conveniently went back to university. "The General is asking to see you in her office."

"Again?" I ask and she nods as I try to find a way out of it. "Tell her-"

"Tell her yourself," she says curtly and leaves me there before I can argue.

I purposefully take the long way to her office and this time Threepio is waiting for me by the door.

"Miss Hope, I am glad to see you."

"You too Threepio," I assure him but he stops me before I can go in.

"Now please, do mind your manners this time," he lectures. "I'd overheard your previous conversation and I am quite disappointed in you."

I look at the protocol droid in disbelief. "Really?"

"Yes, and I do not appreciate your sarcasm," he says pointedly as I raise my eyebrows at him. "A little courtesy goes a long way."

He catches my glare before I walk in only to be hit by a wave of betrayal when I open the door to find R2 there with Mom, but it's when I see the commander sitting across from her I become alarmed, wondering if this is about appropriate conduct. Although that should be the least of her worries.

"You asked to see me?"

"I have," she says and I see the recording on her desk of the Cato Nemoidia heist I pulled off and look at R2, realising he went behind my back to tell her just what I've been doing in the Outer Rims and know I should have seen it coming. He'd all but warned me he'd override my ship's controls to bring me home so this isn't a far stretch.

"Traitor."

He tells me it's what I get for ignoring him and Mom agrees. "Care to explain yourself?"

"Haven't we been over this already?"

"Yes but I'm hoping this time you can be rational," she states and I choose deflection.

"Just out of curiosity," I begin, wanting to know just what I'd be admitting to, although still confused as to why the commander's here if I'm being interrogated over my other exploits. "How much did R2 tell you?"

She purses her lips and says "I dare say he's only scraped the surface, but along with Threepio's intelligence let's start with you not just hunting the First Order for sport and acting as a mercenary for hire amongst several other chargeable offences, but pulling off highly illegal heists on planets where they give you the death sentence for it."

"Well you'll be glad to know that's the worst of it," I smile nervously, for some reason looking at the commander for some type of support right now and find him giving a painful nod of reassurance. "Don't worry I made sure I can't be charged for it, loopholes remember?"

"Mmhmm," she hums doubtfully but changes the subject. "Hope, I believe you've made yourself familiar with Commander Dameron."

I manage to keep a straight face, barely even shrugging in acknowledgement. "I'd say acquainted rather than familiar."

"Acquainted," he agrees and I nod along, trying not to look at his face because the first time left me feeling foolish enough and the last thing I want is for Mom to think I have any sort of attraction to him when I should want to hate his guts for thinking he could beat me in an x-wing but unfortunately his face makes that complicated.

And besides, he's the one that was blatantly flirting, not the other way around, but the way Mom raises her eyebrow tells me she might be slightly more in tune with the force than I thought to see through my bullshit, or worse she listened to his flight recording. Oh maker I hope she didn't because then he wouldn't be the only one mortified.

"Acquainted, alright," she says going with it. "Well I plan for the two of you to become familiar."

Oh no, that would make things even more unnecessarily complicated.

"Actually I was just about to leave, come on R2," I say as I get up from my chair and look at R2 but he remains firmly in place. "R2." He doesn't move and I look at Mom. "The hell did you do to my droid?"

"R2 was mine long before yours, and he's always been a very independent and stubborn droid who has no intention of watching a third generation of our family lose their way," she says and I narrow my eyes at him. "And his loyalty inhibitor prioritises your safety and my commands above yours. If you've forgotten R2 was given to you so he could act as your guardian in mine and Luke's absence, not your partner in crime."

The betrayal stings.

"So you'll offer to set someone on fire for me and won't snitch but now you just hand me over?" I challenge and feel the Commander's head turn to me in alarm and Mom leans back in her chair with raised eyebrows and I quickly remember she didn't know about that incident. It had been an innocent enough night out until a group of thugs tried to take me as ransom to get money off of Dad. I might have stopped Ben from killing them but when I spotted them the next day I couldn't resist getting even. More than even.

"When was this?" she asks me and looks at R2 who now remains silent. "Hope Solo-"

"I was sixteen-"

"There isn't a statute of limitations on setting people on fire!"

"Actually there is on Theron and Dad was fine with it," I say and she just stares incredulously. "They were going to kidnap me, and we as a family agreed not to tell you."

"And as a family you mean-"

"Everyone except for you and Luke?" I say and try to laugh it off but her face is very serious. "R2 was my partner in crime, blame him." R2 beeps in offence so I shift the blame. "Dad was the one who told us to lie."

She puts her head in her hands, taking a moment to compose herself before remarking. "At this point it would be easier to try to list the offences you haven't committed than list those you have."

"That is true," I acknowledge. "But technically-"

"Sit back down," she says curtly and I do so without argument, biting my tongue. "I am going to forget what you just told me that for both of our sakes and get on with the reason I had you called in."

I glance at the Commander beside me who's confused as much as alarmed. I find momentary amusement in it before having to very quickly regulate my facial expression and look back at Mom.

"So if this is round two of interrogations why the company?" I ask and can see her shaking her head in regret. "Because I only nearly dragged him into an x-wing race, so technically no offence has been committed. Intention to commit perhaps, but nothing worthy of anything above a lecture."

Out of the corner of my eye I see him nodding to himself in agreement there, seeming slightly relieved but Mom definitely isn't.

"Every day I regret sending you to university and pushing you into a career that teaches you how to argue," she tells me and I'm tempted to remark I learned all about arguing from when her and Dad could still stand to live together but refrain due to the company. "You should count yourself very lucky that despite your ego and sarcasm you've inherited outstanding talents," she continues and I wait for it, but for once the compliment doesn't come with a dressing down. "I have a mission for the two of you."

"The two of us?" I question, knowing I only ever undertake missions alone and she nods but I'm hardly the one with leverage right now. "So the mission is an actual mission and wasn't just a ploy to make me come back?"

"At this point I'm wishing it was," she sighs and looks at the clock and back to me, and I nod in understanding to not be a smartass. "R2 has told me you've been going rogue in unidentifiable vessels to attack the First Order so you have deniability?"

"You already knew that but yes."

"And that you performed several heists and stole artifacts from Cato Nemoidia?"

The commander blinks in surprise beside me and I only feel proud as I correct. "Reclaimed Jedi artifacts, and without a hitch."

"Good," she says to me and now I'm the one blinking in surprise. "I have the perfect mission for you."

I look at the Commander but find he doesn't have much more context than I do and I ask her "Is this a trap?"

She reminds me just where I got my mouth from, and it wasn't my father. "So you can trust Boba Fett but not your own mother?"

I swear I hear the commander actually choke from beside me and R2 cackles as best a droid can. Feeling quite ganged up on I relent. "We could get into that again but I'd rather hear about the mission."

She actually seems pleasantly surprised. "Wise decision."

She places a holoprojector on the table and I see a politician I'm half familiar with, wondering if this is going to be some political mission and feel myself quickly losing interest.

"This is Senator Erudo Ro-Kiintor," Mom tells us. "The senior senator from Hevurion to the Republic."

I raise an unimpressed eyebrow and the Commander seems to share the same sentiment but most pilots aren't exactly fond of politicians.

"If you say so, General," he says and I steal a glance, wondering if I was mistaken in how stupidly attractive I found him, as if it could have been some moment of weakness, only to find I was definitely not mistaken and quickly pull my eyes away before Mom can accuse me of anything, looking very intently at the hologram instead of either of them.

But I get a little more excited when she changes the hologram to one of a ship. "This is the Hevurion Grace, Senator Ro-Kiintor's personal yacht," Mom says and it's what I'd expect, Poe nodding along as he takes it in.

"It's a Pinnacle-class luxury ship, made by Vekker Corp. I've seen Pinnacles once or twice before. They're exclusive ships, everything aboard handmade, or so Vekker advertises," he begins, his knowledge of a random model of ship he's probably never even touched before making me slightly jealous. "Only the very wealthy can afford them. They trade luxury for efficiency, practically hang an invitation off the hull for pirates saying money in here."

"Damn right they do," I smirk to myself and Mom just looks unimpressed at that knowing just who I've been associating with. "I had to make credits somehow."

"If I recall you're a princess," she begins to lecture. "A title that was handed to you with great consideration with the expectation you wouldn't throw your lot in with pirates."

Those words dig deep considering just how seriously I took that honour, another reminder of just how much everything has changed for the worse.

"Only Hondo and besides, he helped the rebellion," I try to reason. "And you married someone who worked for the Hutts but I don't see you glaring at him."

"Oh I would if I could," she assures me and I don't doubt that, but she doesn't stop there. "Because he'd be so proud to see that his daughter ended up taking after him more than anyone else in the family which is why you are sitting here." Something changes in her eyes, they feel more alive as she nods towards the ship. "Can you fly one?"

"Of course I can fly one what sort of question's that?" I ask and she poses the same question to the Commander who runs a hand through his hair.

"It's designed to be flown by a single pilot, though it crews better with two," he says and again I'm wondering how the hell he knows so much about luxury cruisers. "Not counting of course any servants the owner may want aboard."

She has a mischievous glint in her eye and I lean back in my chair, smirking as I realise "You hypocrite. You want me to steal it."

"I want the two of you to steal it," she clarifies and it seems I might not have made a mistake in coming back after all.

I look at the Commander and find him grinning. "Sure. Anything else you'd like while I'm at it? Maybe pick you up one of those new Nebulon-Ks?"

She laughs. "I'm not entirely convinced the Nebulon-Ks have solved their combustion-shielding problems."

The rapport between them has me tilting my head, Mom's never friendly with pilots, hell she's hardly friendly with command. So why the hell's she making jokes with a guy who looks like the type of pilot she'd hate?

But then again, she married my father after all.

Oh maker.

I look away, she wouldn't, but then again she married my father and kissed her own brother so I can't put anything past her. I mean he definitely would, he looks like walking sex and it took him all of a minute to try to talk me into a date, or more likely into bed. Oh for the love of the force this is not what I thought I'd come back to. This could be even worse than the thought of her and Luke.

"Are you quite right there Hope?" Mom asks with a peculiar look.

"Stellar," I say, for once wanting to get to business and refuse to look at either of them. If she wanted to find a new flyboy she could at least look for one that isn't her son's age, he'd have to be in his late twenties, a bit older than Ben but close enough. I'm old enough to know that guys who look like him are only after one thing, maybe temporarily I leaned that way too for a moment when we were in that hanger, but certainly not now. And as for Mom... I just want her to be happy but not like this.

If she wanted a new husband I'd be thrilled, honestly I'd be lying if I hadn't thought her and Lando could possibly give it a go, mostly because it would break Dad's heart like he broke ours, but also because it would mean I'd have some semblance of a stable family.

But this- oh no this is not something I'd approve of. Maker I hope I'm just grasping at straws here.

I notice the commander eyeing me cautiously at my sudden change in demeanour before asking Mom "So what's this about General?"

"We've suspected Senator Ro-Kiintor of colluding with the First Order for years. He's delayed or derailed motions covering everything from sanctions to increased support for the Republic Navy. He's taken numerous unscheduled and impromptu vacations to locations in the buffer region, in the neutral territories." None of this is news to me, it seems as if half the remaining Centrists are secretly First Order agents, but this is news to the Commander. "There've been sightings of the Hevurion Grace in First Order space. Large sums transferred to his accounts through shells and third-party corporations via the CSA. He's not only in with the First Order, but he's in deep. He may have access to the top, to General Hux. Perhaps to Snoke."

I lean forward, suddenly intrigued. "Really?"

She's apprehensive now and stresses "But we haven't been able to prove any of this. No hard evidence, just circumstantial. And we've tried, believe me. Twice in the last year Ematt's sent his agents aboard the Hevurion Grace after one of the senator's trips, trying to access the logs, the navicomputer, to prove where he's been. Each time the files had been purged prior to landing."

"You want us to kidnap a Republic senator?" Poe questions, not entirely opposed, and that might slightly redeem him in my eyes.

"I can do that," I say without hesitation.

She looks between us in alarm and points her finger at me specifically. "No, that's precisely what I don't want you to do. I want the ship, I want those logs, the navicomputer data, all of it, before anyone's had a chance to cover their tracks, you understand? But no loss of life." She shakes her finger at me again in warning and then points it at Poe. "Not even a bruise on the senator or any of the crew aboard if it can be possibly helped and especially no interrogations as it must be completely deniable." She looks back at me upon mentioning interrogations, her voice somehow turning even more serious. "Emphasis on no interrogations which means no force tricks either Hope, no threatening, no persuading, no questioning. Nothing. Do not even attempt to find a loophole in that either. You are not to even interact with anyone on board if you can help it." I raise my hands in my defence, deciding not to open my mouth and she goes on. "Ro-Kiintor is a traitor, I'm sure of it, but until we can prove it he remains a member of the Senate and the Resistance will honour that. We must honour that or we're no better than the First Order."

But I have to shake my head at that, knowing nothing is that simple, and make the mistake of opening my mouth. "If we aren't willing to get our hands dirty how do you expect to take down people who would destroy the entire galaxy without blinking an eye?"

"Considering you've been working for Vader's right hand man I don't want to hear a single word out of your mouth about morality," she says curtly and,clearly I'd underestimated the lasting impact Cloud City had on her. The Commander turns his head towards me but I don't dare look at his expression while Mom calms herself. "I'm going to assume your judgement's been clouded for you to make such a decision and trust it's cleared enough for you to partake in this mission without any complications.

"In all fairness what happened with Boba Fett was Dad's fault," I remind her, she was innocent in what occurred that day, but him not so much, and I want her to understand my reasoning. "He swindled a Hutt and paid the consequence, and besides, it's my understanding Boba Fett helped rescue a Jedi youngling after the war from Moff Gideon. Luke should have been able to tell you that considering he was the one who took the kid. And as for being Vader's right hand man, has it occurred to you that one of the reasons I did work for him was for information, to make sure Vader didn't I don't know.... leave any apprentices that could rise up to lead a new empire?"

Now I have her attention and she gives me the chance to elaborate. "And?"

"He had none," I reveal to her, both of us having operated under the assumption he'd been trained by Vader or Palpatine. "Whatever Snoke is, he wasn't Vader's apprentice and no one knows anything about what he is or where he came from."

I feel the Commander's confusion and Mom explains. "This information is mostly unknown due to a lack of understanding around the matter, but Snoke is a force user like the Emperor was. One of the questions we had been working on answering is what type of force user he is and who trained him."

I expect the Commander to be completely clueless about the force and its lore like most of the galaxy, but he surprises me. "So he's a Sith then like the Emperor was?"

"No, the Sith followed a strict rule of two, a master and an apprentice, although during the Clone Wars they saw that as flexible. It's how they survived all this time until Palpatine, and if he wasn't trained by either then he can't be a Sith. He uses the darkside of the force but doesn't adhere to the Sith doctrine," I explain, still unable to figure it out. "He's something else and I want to find out what."

"Which we can begin to learn through the data on that computer and not interrogating a senator who would have no personal knowledge of anything you want to know," she argues with me, driving in the point she made about my last mission. "Which is why considering your recent experiences of pulling off heists I believed you would be a valuable asset to this mission, but if you are going to prove otherwise-"

"No, you won't have any trouble from me," I quickly say and she nods her head. I came here wanting to prove myself, and I have to put my own bullshit aside for long enough to do that. Especially if it means getting my hands on intelligence. "So, what's the plan?"

Poe's face draws together in concentration as he theorises. "If they're purging the data they're almost certainly doing so within minutes of coming out of hyperspace."

Mom agrees. "That's Ematt's thinking, as well."

"It's a very tight window in which to take the ship," he says, immediately jumping into an action plan. "And it'll have to be done in space, it can't wait until the senator's landed."

I look at him, surprised by his tactical thinking and quick responses. Maybe he was made a commander for something other than a pretty face after all.

"Which is where Hope comes in," Mom says to him. "If she can break into Cato Nemoidia undetected to steal Jedi artifacts I have every confidence she can steal a ship, according to R2 she's become quite experienced in that as well. She has a very specific skill set and whilst I am confident she could pull this off the matter in which she would pull this off is what concerns me. Considering she has no regard for her own personal safety I know she won't refuse this mission, but you can."

I scoff at her talking to him like I don't exist. "I'm right here."

Poe just looks confused. "Why would I refuse?"

"I'm aware of exactly how difficult this mission will be. Which is why I'm giving you the option of saying no, Commander. I have to stress this, Poe." Mom reaches out and squeezes his hand right in front of me and it's all I can do not to gape at them. "This is not an order. It could go very, very wrong, and if it does the Resistance would have to deny any involvement. You and anyone you took with you to do this would be on your own. You'll have Hope there and she has a knack for beating the odds but any reinforcements would be at risk."

I take the opportunity to jump in and finally turn to address the Commander personally, unable to help but feel slightly smug. "I can handle it alone since this isn't exactly your line of work."

But he doesn't back down, only seeming more sure of it as he fires back. "Don't be so sure."

"As Commander Dameron said, it crews better with two," Mom points out and I narrow my eyes at him before turning my head back to her.

"So does the Falcon but I've flown it myself all the same," I remind her and get to the point. "You know I wouldn't have a single issue flying this thing or getting what you need so what's your concern?"

"You. You're my concern."

"So that's it?" I laugh bitterly. "Your new favourite flyboy's my babysitter?"

He scoffs under his breath while she just shakes her head at me.

"Hope, you're twenty could you please attempt to act like it," she scolds and lectures. "If you want to have your rank restored you're going to need to prove yourself and have recommendations."

"I'm a captain-"

"You were a captain, and if you want to be one again you can earn it back," she says and I press my lips together, shaking my head as I struggle to keep my mouth shut with the anger that rises in me. "As of right now you are an agent of the Resistance that has no rank within our navy or army. If you want that to change you will do as told without the sarcasm and follow Commander Dameron's orders as he will be taking the lead on this mission if he will accept it and have you part of it."

I hold her eye but she doesn't back down and I'm the first to cave. He looks at me now in hesitation, my expression very clearly telling just how I feel as I find a spot on the wall to focus on so I don't have to look at either of them, as I brutally beat back whatever hurt tries to overwhelm me, and hear him say "We're um- we're going to need a few things."

"Alright then," she says, the decision being made since she's right in knowing I won't turn down the mission when I have a personal incentive to get that intelligence. "You'll both be transferred to the Echo of Hope to prepare for the mission. Due to the need to have deniability you will not be able to make use of your x-wings but I'm sure the two of you can figure that out and acquire whatever you may need."

"Yes General," we both say automatically, telling myself the information I can get from that ship is more valuable than anything else. If it can lead me to Snoke there's no question about it.

"I've sent the information we have to your datapads for you to review and strategise," she says and she knows by my silence I'm utterly pissed at being degraded like this in front of someone who's been here for five minutes and has more of her trust than I'll ever hold again it seems. I look between them, wanting to believe there's something wrong going on here, something to explain it, some sick favouritism or something more scandalous but no, she wouldn't go that far with someone under her command and finally I see it for what it is.

He's not a substitute husband, no, he's a substitute son.

And somehow that only makes it worse.

It makes it worse because if she'd given Ben a fraction of the care and warmth she's given him in the past five minutes we wouldn't be in this position and so I leave without being dismissed before I can open my mouth and ruin my chances of getting the intelligence I need to find my brother.

If Mom doesn't have any faith in me he will, and I know he's the only person in the galaxy who'll put me above anything else. If I can get him onside then we can damn the Resistance and the First Order to hell and destroy Snoke in our own way without being held back.

I am getting that intelligence if it's the last thing I do.

~

Poe

I don't know what I said or did, but Hope Solo does not like me.

And I can't help but return the feeling.

"It was really that bad huh?" Snap says as we sit in the mess hall well past dinner that night talking.

"I don't know what her problem is but she wouldn't look at me or Leia and then just walked out as we began to prepare for the mission," I vent to him, knowing I can't tell him the details of the assignment but I've got to get the rest off my chest. "Everything was just electric, sparks everywhere, right up until the moment she walked into that office and then it was like she was a completely different person."

"She's temperamental," he acknowledges, not wanting to talk bad about her and neither do I but I just can't understand her.

"It's just the way she spoke to Leia," I continue, her being pissed at an absent father I can get but not that. I couldn't ever imagine speaking to my mom like that if I was lucky enough to still have her around. "It's not just disrespecting your general, but your mom, I just can't come at that."

"Those two fight but look, she isn't as awful as she makes herself out to be," Snap sighs and actually takes her side. "I remember the very first Resistance meeting where she dragged her whiney ass big brother in there and chewed him out for talking bad about Leia. I learned real quick that day that the thing about Solo's is they'll fight like hell with each other but if someone comes for them you'll never see anyone switch up as fast. It's- it's just their way of communicating because trust me, I've seen Leia give it to her as well."

I can't deny that, a couple of things Leia said had me raising my eyebrows, mostly provoked to be fair but still I'd never seen her be so harsh before. From the sound of it a lot of the scolding was justified but still I couldn't help but feel bad for her until she decided to be pissed at me along with Leia for reasons I still can't understand since I only said about one sentence to her.

But not wanting to admit it I shrug him off. "Still."

He leans closer and lowers his voice "Just give her a chance alright, because your first impression of her was the right one. Yeah she's difficult and her and Leia can tear each other to shreds but she isn't the way she is without reason."

"Like what?" I find myself asking, I've seen the holonews, I've heard the rumours, but I don't know how much of what is actually true, and considering I'm going to be depending on her in a life or death situation I need to know who I'm working with.

He debates his words. "You know the General had a son right?"

"Yeah, of course," I say quietly, no one on base has ever dared even mention him until now. I've definitely never ever dared to venture there in all my conversations with Leia, not even when that grief she carries has left me up at night worrying. "He was killed when the temple was destroyed."

"I met him once, the splitting image of Han and Leia. He was a proper Jedi, Hope bounced around but he was fully devoted to it. Everyone says she was Luke's last apprentice but she wasn't, she was her brother's apprentice," Snap tells me and I feel uneasy. "I watched the two of them fighting like nothing else, like brothers and sisters do, but you could see how close they were. She- she was a real different person back then. One minute she's bright eyed and greeting everyone with a smile and then weeks later she ends up in hospital with lightsaber burns."

"Lightsaber burns?" I repeat and his face is grave.

"I know you've heard what people say about the supposed heir of Vader miraculously surviving the destruction of the Jedi Order?" he says, rumours I've tried not to listen to but I can't deny having heard them. "Look, if the General or anyone heard me say this I'd be dead but I was stationed on Hosnian Prime when they brought her in. They took her to the hanger where we were operating out of so the media couldn't get any footage since they'd been hounding her and Leia. I saw Han when he walked out of the Falcon, I've known that man since I was sixteen years old but I'd never seen him like that. Whatever happened that night... she nearly died, they said she was hospitalised for smoke inhalation but I got a glimpse of her when the Falcon landed in the hanger and they called in emergency services."

He pauses, knowing he shouldn't be saying anything but shakes his head and goes on.

"The side of her head was covered in dried blood and she was covered in that much ash she looked like the temple had been dropped on her, but it was the lightsaber burns they made sure the media never got wind of," he says quietly, a pained expression on his face. "One along her leg and the other on her arm, I'd thought she was dead when Chewbacca carried her out of there. Whatever happened that night wasn't an accident, but despite what people like to guess she wasn't the one who burned the temple down, she was just the one who was left for dead."

I'm at a complete loss for words now. "I-"

"She was seventeen when it happened," he says and I lower my eyes. "Han left a few months later. Leia coped by throwing herself into building this, Hope coped by taking out that grief on the First Order. Leia's done all this before so she knows it's important to build up our fleet before even thinking about engaging, but Hope wants action and immediate results. Those two weren't always at each other's throats, just look at the holonews if you want to see how protective she is of Leia."

I remember pieces from the initial media coverage, and know if L'ulo was on base he'd remind me of the fights I'd have with my dad because we were both grieving and had different ways of coping with it.

"Alright," I say, still struggling for words. "I'll um- I'll figure it out."

I go to leave, to get something started so I can get her input on it but Snap stops me. "Look if you go to see her don't give her any pity or say you feel sorry for her, just pretend like I haven't said anything." I nod in understanding but he goes on. "You want my advice for dealing with Hope Solo, or anyone from that family? To give as good as you get."

"I just saw her fighting with Leia, I don't think it's possible for me to give as good as she does," I remark but he doesn't look so sure.

"Give her the benefit of the doubt and be nice but if she's going to be under your command for whatever this mission is then you better learn to stand up to her otherwise she'll walk all over you," he advises, and considering she actually listens to him I don't argue back. It's not my style as a commander to be an asshole, because if I'm giving it back to her that's what I'm going to end up sounding like, but a good commander has to be adaptable. "She won't respect you unless you give as good as you get."

I take those words literally as I go to see her.

~

Hope

There's a knock at my door that I ignore as I unpack the things I'd packed, not knowing if I'm coming or going but knowing I'll need to bring some things at least with me. Still debating if I should go after that ship myself before anyone even knows where I've gone.

"I don't like this one bit R2," I tell him. "I was a captain, I performed countless missions and now some flyboy who's been here five minutes isn't just Mom's new favourite but he's giving me orders and I do not like this at all and I do not like him."

R2 beeps a smartass remark about that and I realise even if Mom hasn't picked up on my attraction R2 certainly has.

"R2," I warn but the knocking at my door persists and in my annoyance I open it to tell off whoever it is, half expecting a lecture from Threepio, but when I see the Commander my voice is sharper than I anticipated. "What?"

He's mildly alarmed at the sight of me, as if whatever resolve that brought him here quickly slips. "Bad time?"

"Yes," I state plainly and go to press the door switch but he has the guts to reach for my hand to stop me, the sudden touch jarring enough that I actually do stop.

"Look," he begins and stammers over what to call me. "Hope or Princess whatever you want me to call you?"

I pull my hand away, my voice firm. "Solo."

He nods, content with that. "Solo. I know you aren't happy about this-"

"So you can use your head then after all?"

His expression quickly turns to one of exasperation, but he knows it's not unfounded. "I might have gotten a bit carried away."

"Might have?" I question and can't help but snipe "Didn't seem to mind until you realised with who."

He knows I have him there. "In all fairness, you don't exactly give off the impression you'd expect from a princess."

I just scoff at that. "Because I'm not one." He just looks confused at that and I state plainly. "It's another rank she gave me which she remarkably hasn't stripped away like the only one that actually mattered."

He tries to lighten the tension. "Well at least I know now you weren't kidding about insubordination."

"And now you get to be my commander for this mission, enjoy," I say, and see people walking past in the hallway giving strange looks. "So what do you want?"

"Look if you're gonna be mad at me for whatever then fine, nice to meet you too," he says shortly. "But I was going to talk to you about the mission."

I raise an eyebrow. "In my bedroom, in the middle of the night?"

"I- " he clamps his mouth shut before saying "Alright, my bad, but it's urgent."

I just shake my head at him. "How did you even find my room?"

"Mutual friends," he says and know the only one he could mean is Snap. "Look can I come in and talk or we can air this out in the hallway, your choice."

"Fine," I say and throw my hands up as I let him in, becoming slightly less hostile when I realise he's brought his droid with him for support. "What's so urgent?"

The door shuts and I sit down in my chair and kick my legs up on the desk, crossing my arms over my chest as I wait for him to talk.

He takes me in, the tension between us far different to how it was in the hanger, and I realise when the General's not around I'm not the only one with a smartass mouth.

"So it's gonna be like that then?"

"Yep," I say slowly as I hold his eye and he cocks his jaw before nodding to himself.

"You know you actually seemed to like me before that meeting."

"I did, and now I'm taking orders from you so how's that worked out?" I remark, knowing that's certainly a conflict of interest that neither of us are game enough to admit to my Mom. "You've got one minute before I kick you out."

"Alright princess," he says and I narrow my eyes at him as he stands over me, not that he's overly tall. "I don't know what your problem is, but I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and say you're just pissed off right now." I open my mouth but he cuts me off. "The reason this couldn't wait is because before we get transferred I need to give the general an action overview and wanted your input."

He surprises me enough that some of my apprehension eases and I can't help the disbelief that's clear in my voice. "My input?"

"You might be acting like a brat but I've seen enough to know that you're damn good in the field," he says and I blink in surprise as the insult and praise, respecting it enough to listen. "And whatever the hell you've been doing out there means this is your type of job, so." He leans forward over the desk, making it clear he's not going anywhere. "Hhow about you give me some input so we can work out an action plan together so we're on the same page and I can give it to the General with both our names on it."

I look at him in contemplation, holding his eye and still see that challenging glint in it from the hanger and find myself still forcing back a smile. "Alright hotshot, show me what you've got."

Now he's the one that's surprised but goes along with it and we end up cross legged on the floor going over the files we were sent and the schematics of the ship that's projected in holo form from my datapad.

"So, just to be clear," he begins and makes clear. "Absolutely no judgement on my part, but have you stolen a ship like this before?"

"Not the exact model but similar enough," I say, looking at the cross sections to pinpoint weak spots we could break through if we can't reach an entrance easily. "It's a luxury yacht, it's only going to be as difficult to hijack as we make it."

"Which is gonna be difficult regardless," he says and reminds me. "The issue is the time frame we're working with because if they call in reinforcements we're gonna be screwed. I've got some pilots in mind for an armed escort but if possible I'd prefer to not have to bring more people into this knowing the risks."

"Look this senator's a right prick," I tell Poe and he doesn't have any arguments with that. "I've met him and he's a Centrist which says enough but if he calls in reinforcements we need to be prepared for that to be in the form of the Republic or more likely hired security."

"The question is which would be better luck," he says although I'm not particularly worried about either. "Republic means a star system of trouble for the Resistance if we're identified, hired security means a skirmish."

"Look I wouldn't be too worried about getting identified," I tell him. "No one's gonna be shocked to see me committing piracy and I can always say I kidnapped you or something."

He stares at me in disbelief for a moment before asking "That's your plan?"

"It's a plan c for if the Republic shows up," I assure him. "So let's figure out how to avoid that."

"Here's what I've worked out," he says and lays it out for me. "We have to hit the ship the moment it comes out of hyperspace, and temporarily disable it by damaging the engines, get on board and then get the senator and anyone else on the ship into the escape pods and off the vessel."

"So no hostages?" I ask since Mom never clarified that and he considers it for a moment.

"No, no hostages," he confirms and I don't argue as he goes on. "We restart the engines and then get out of there with the ship, and we have to do it within eight minutes."

Now I grow hesitant. "Eight minutes being the Republic's response time?"

He nods in confirmation. "Correct."

I nod slowly and admit "It's a tight window, especially since it relies on how fast those engines and that hyperdrive recharges. I'm good with rigging hyperdrives but there's only so much I could do to make it charge faster in such a short window."

"That- I hadn't thought of that. Rigging the hyperdrive could really save us with the timeframe we have," he says taking my idea into consideration. "Are you familiar with the hyperdrive model?"

"It's class two, so it's right up my alley," I confirm, getting a little excited now. "If I get the right booster cables and bypass some other mechanics on it I should be able to rig it to charge faster but still I can't give an exact time frame as to how long that would be until we're on board and I can run the diagnostics."

He nods but asks "Won't that make it unstable?"

"No more unstable than what I grew up flying," I remark but he takes it on board. "And besides we only need to make one jump, I can keep it intact for that long."

"Alright, I'll take your word for it," he decides and reaffirms. "Eight minutes to get on board and recharge the engines before the Republic comes. It could take them longer but we need to be prepared for them to arrive in the minimum time frame."

I nod along but then wonder "But what if he doesn't call to the Republic for help? If he's carrying the information the General believes he is then he's going to have greater security than just relying on a distress signal to a naval base or even a private security escort." He listens as I tell him "Before you found me in the field I'd had a dozen tie's ambush me out of nowhere just because they'd identified my ship, not even knowing who was flying it. If he is carrying First Order intelligence and is compromised the First Order will try to reinforce but if they know the ship's been hijacked they're going to blow it up and take all of us with it."

He stills now, the thought of the First Order reinforcing before the Republic having not crossed his mind. "Which means this mission is a hell of a lot more dangerous than we gave it credit for."

"But it's not impossible," I say, determined to get whatever is on board. "We just have to be smart about this and have backup plans and improvise if needed.'

He studies me a little more closely now. "I'm going to go out on a whim and say most of your plans involve improvising?"

"Hey, I'm still alive aren't I?" I shrug and see a shadow of a smile on his face in the dim light.

"That's good, I like improvising," he says and now I'm the one trying to resist the same sort of smile. "If you can pull off a heist on Cato Nemoidia I don't doubt that you're more than capable of seeing this through."

I've been that used to having to go above and beyond for anyone to trust me, it's nice to have someone who does it without me having to fight for it. Although that says more about his character than mine.

"If this senator has information about where Snoke is then that is the most invaluable piece of intelligence we could get our hands on," I say and stress as I take in the ship. "It's not properly armoured, just an automatic set of laser cannons that would do nothing to protect it if we're ambushed, so we need to rely on getting out of there before that can happen."

He nods in agreement. "I like your thinking, I think you've accounted for any major variables that could go wrong. This is the one mission we can't fail."

"Trust me, this is personal, I'm not gonna fail it," I promise him, knowing if it comes between following orders and doing what I need to do to get the information I need the choice is clear. "So what are we gonna be flying if not x-wings?"

"That's what I was hoping you could help me with, we're gonna need ships that can't be traced back to the Resistance," he says. "I've got some favours I can call in but I thought you might have some better ones."

"I do, in fact a pirate owes me some credits and I can get the booster cables I need from him as well," I say knowing Hondo will help me out. "How many ships will we need?"

"One for each of us," he says to me. "I was considering bringing two pilots as an escort, they came with me to the Resistance so you wouldn't know them, but they're damn good at what they do."

Except I can sense his hesitation. "But you're worried they'll be collateral if it's the First Order who shows up."

He nods gravely and reveals "Yeah, I lost a man not that far back in the field and I'm not letting that happen again if I can help it."

I don't inquire or push, but I take note of that fact. "Alright then, so just us?" He nods again and I assure him "I can take care of ships no problem, but I suppose my N-1's out of the question?"

He shakes his head with a grin. "Now if you bring that we're definitely going to be in trouble, let's just say you'll be wanting ships we can ditch mid space."

"I can do that," I say, knowing Hondo has enough rust buckets that won't be missed. "Just don't tell the General where I'll be getting them from because she won't like it." I point a finger at R2. "That goes for you as well you little traitor."

"Now I gotta ask, I know you're a great pilot but do you have any formal military training outside of the Resistance?" he asks me and sees the look on my face upon realising he hasn't looked at my file. Although it's a safe bet that it's classified to anyone not in high command. "What?"

"I started in the Naboo Starfighter Corps in 23ABY."

He nods slowly before exclaiming "Wait I thought Leia said you were twenty? That would have made you-"

"Twelve," I smile to myself. "So I can assure you I'm quite well trained."

He just stares incredulously as he tries to understand that. "Wait- how the hell did they let a kid into their starfighter corps?"

"I made the argument that if twelve year olds could be queens then twelve year olds could also be pilots," I say and he can't argue with that assessment, once he gets past the disbelief he seems impressed.

"I gotta say," he begins and surprises me. "I'm looking forward to seeing you in the field Solo."

I study his face along with his force signature, almost hating the fact that despite my best efforts I can't truly find cause to dislike him, yet at least. He's effectively taken my role here in the Resistance and my mom's respect, and yet I only find frustration at the situation rather than with him.

"You've already seen me in the field, I'll be more interested to see if you can back up that ego you've got," I tease but he just gives a charming grin.

"Oh I can promise you, I won't disappoint."

I don't miss the look in his eye, one I'm not quite sure he even realises is there. I can't quite make sense of but it makes me feel things I definitely don't want to feel and while I'm not completely opposed this conversation has already gotten more personal than I'd like and the longer I hold his eye the warmer this room feels and so I quickly stand from the floor to put distance between us. "Well, if that will be all Commander."

A quick look at the clock on the wall tells me it's three a.m., but we've got the mission mapped out as well as possible for now at least. "I'll give this to the General and find you tomorrow to talk logistics."

I nod in approval and realise how well I've done at being able to look at his face without feeling anything, until now at least, but there's a warmth in his eyes I can't help but like. "Tomorrow then."

He nods back and finds his way out, leaving me in a state I can't quite pinpoint but R2 feels the need to tell me that I don't mind him that much after all.

And unfortunately he's right. 

[inthemytdl]

I posted 70 times in 2022

That's 53 more posts than 2021!

26 posts created (37%)

44 posts reblogged (63%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@robiinbuckley

@lady-of-the-spirit

@maya-hawke

@fyeahspiderman

@lanadelreyscokewhor3

I tagged 39 of my posts in 2022

Only 44% of my posts had no tags

#mcu!peter - 11 posts

#peter parker blurbs - 7 posts

#peter parker fics - 7 posts

#peter parker oneshot - 7 posts

#peter parker x reader - 6 posts

#peter parker x y/n - 6 posts

#peter parker x you - 6 posts

#peter parker x gn!reader - 6 posts

#peter parker x gender neutral reader - 6 posts

#peter parker oneshots - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 107 characters

#because when he forgets to pack a lunch or iron his shirt he would appreciate someone else doing it for him

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Made For You

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter’s new job means less time spent with you

Word Count: 1370

The door rings as you push it open, entering the sub shop down the street from your housing building.

Glancing around, you walk to the counter, press a bell, and wait for someone to serve you, taking note of students who are enjoying their lunch breaks.

“I’m coming!” Peter shouts, exiting what you assume is a storage room then grabbing a fresh pair of gloves. “Hi, what can I get you—“ He looks up, realizing it’s you. “Y/n, what are you doing here?!”

“I want a sandwich,” you reply, nonchalantly, and he frowns, crossing his arms. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously! I need something to eat while I hang out alone.”

Peter groans at your histrionics. He hates having to cancel your plans, but between school and Spider-Man, this job is the only thing paying his bills. Not to mention, buying his suit parts and foods that aren’t ramen.

"You didn't even give me time to react," you say, annoyed by his indifference, "I planned everything out just for you to cancel."

Peter sighs, feeling a pinch of guilt for disappointing you, but he's snapped out of his thoughts when something thuds in the storage room.

“I’m sorry, but my boss is back there,” he motions at the door beside him, “and I’m supposed to be working, so if you're not buying anything then—“

“I said I want a sandwich,” you remind, curtly, and he sighs, putting his gloves on then grabbing a sheet to build your sub on. “What bread?”

You look to the side, gazing at the list of bread options before answering. “Italian.” Peter nods, retrieving the bread then cutting it open. “Size?”

“Foot-long with chicken teriyaki,” you reply, reading off the large overhead menu. “Buffalos better,” he murmurs, placing your teriyaki on the sliced bread as you frown. “Why didn’t you say that before?”

He rolls his eyes, patting the meat down. “I’m not making you a new one.”

“Fine,” you pout, examining the toppings, “but add lettuce and tomatoes, and cheddar cheese with mayonnaise.”

He nods, adding your toppings then squirting mayo on top. “Pickles?”

“No, those are gross,” you say, scrunching your face as he feigns offense. “You’re gross.”

“Parker!”

Peter swings his head back, his heart racing as he spots his boss standing in the doorway. There’s no way she heard him, right?

“Will you work faster?! We’ve got other customers!”

The both of you look to the side, noticing the line of customers waiting for their orders to be taken.

“Sorry, I’ll get on it,” he grunts as his boss returns to the storage room, and you assume that isn’t what he wanted to say. “Do you want it toasted?”

You nod and he squeezes your sandwich together before shoving it in the toaster. “I’ll be right back.” He leaves you at the cash register, going to take another order.

Waiting for your own, you watch as Peter works from the other end of the counter. He seems good at his job. He knows all the bread and topping choices, which is expected but impressive. You only ever remember your own order.

A couple minutes go by before Peter returns, leaving his previous customer to take your sandwich out of the toaster. After, he wraps it in paper, handing it to you before pressing a few buttons on the cash register.

“That’ll be $7.50," he says and you crease your brows, examining the menu’s prices. That's three dollars less than the printed price.

Peter notices your expression and rolls his eyes.

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99 notes - Posted January 16, 2022

#4

Stickier Than Sap

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter has an off day where he sticks to everything

Word Count: 2500

“Morning.” Bucky greets, turning on your infamous coffee machine: the one everyone likes most. While he brews a new batch, Peter winks at you, playfully, and you roll your eyes. He quickly looks away, biting his lip to prevent a smile from plastering on his face.

You take a seat at the kitchen island when Bucky realizes Peter has his favorite mug—the one he refuses to let anyone else use—so he grabs it, creasing his brows when it stalls in the boy’s hand.

“Kid,” he calls, and Peter hums, facing him, “let go.”

“Oh, sorry.” He stretches his arm out, allowing Bucky to grab the mug, but it still doesn’t budge. Noticing their predicament, you stifle a laugh, causing the soldier to look up at you.

“Alright, ha-ha. Now would you let go?” He pulls harder this time, yanking Peter forward. “I-I’m not doing it on purpose,” he explains, finding his balance as Bucky grunts. “Just let go!”

Peter shakes his hand—hard—but the mug still follows him.

Rolling your eyes, you stand. “Here.” You grab his shoulder with one hand, reaching for the mug with your other when he drops it, and it instantly shatters on the tiled floor.

Gulping, Peter glances at Bucky who grunts, leaving the room—his coffee craving immediately gone.

“What was that?” You ask, and he shrugs, crouching to collect the ceramic pieces as you gaze at him. His curls are a tousled mess, and you can tell he only ran a hand through them this morning, but you're snapped out of your thoughts when he winces.

“You okay?” You crouch down to his level, gazing at his eyes when his breath hitches. You’re just inches away from each other. He can smell your body wash which you barred him from using.

“Yeah,” he puts his finger in his mouth, “just a cut.”

“Well, duh,” you say, standing, “you’re supposed to do that with gloves on—you’re not invincible you know.”

You grab a quick snack from the cabinet, leaving Peter in the kitchen as you head back to your room.

For the rest of the day, similar events occur. Anytime you walk into a room, something sticks to Peter. He’d be watching TV in the common room, and as soon as he saw you, the remote would stick to his hand. The same happened when he was doing homework. Only this time he pulled the keys off his laptop, and no amount of shaking would free them from him. But all you did was laugh. Every time. Tears collected in your eyes when he tried to unstick himself, only to make things worse. He tried to play it off, but each time it happened, it became more annoying and even more dangerous.

—

“Underoos! How’s my favorite arachnid doing?”

“I’m your only arachnid,” Peter corrects, entering the main laboratory, and Tony quickly notices his slumped shoulders and knitted brows.

“Widow exists which, by the way, don’t tell her I said that.”

Peter nods, heading to his corner of the lab as Tony grabs a screwdriver, undoing a bolt in his suit. Lab work is one of the ways he clears his mind: a habit Peter has picked up.

As they work, Tony sneaks glances at Peter, each time expecting him to ask about his project, but he doesn't. In fact, he barely looks in his direction. Instead, he focuses on upgrading his web shooters. But Tony ignores it, trying not to pry, however, eventually, the silence grows deafening and the tension too thick.

“Alright, what’s up?” He asks, gazing at Peter who glances at him and shrugs. “Nuh uh, don’t give me that—spill.”

“It’s nothing,” Peter says and Tony groans, signaling for him to say more. “It’s just… I’ve been having some issues with my powers.” He lifts his hands, examining them like a blueprint. “I-I keep sticking to things! Like this morning when I broke Bucky’s mug.”

Tony grimaces, knowing how much he loved it.

“And earlier today, I ruined my laptop and almost ripped my shirt in front of Y/n—“

“Kid,” he throws his hand up, “I don’t want anything to do with your hormonal stickiness.”

Frowning, Peter drops his head. If he can just figure out what's messing with his powers, then things can go back to normal. But radioactive spiders aren’t supposed to exist, so nobody gets them, and no one can help him—not even Tony, who points at him.

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104 notes - Posted February 13, 2022

#3

Leveled Up

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Your relationship with Spider-Man gets tricky when you’re ready to take it to the next level and he’s not

Word Count: 1910

The first time you met Spider-Man you were sitting on the fire escape outside your window when you saw him climbing up the side of your building. His odd bug-like demeanor sent a scream roaring through your throat, which sent him falling down two stories. 

He never told you what he was doing there, but you had your suspicions. You had so many you sent a plethora of questions his way. He was surprisingly willing to answer some but avoided personal questions like his age. You figured he was around yours with his sometimes-squeaky voice and constant pop-culture references. You never thought they would bring you to this moment now. 

“Can I?” Your fingers tapped on his shoulders where his mask met his suit. You had never seen Spider-Man’s face before. No one had. But you had been friends for so long tonight felt like the right time—when was peering into your eyes as you looked into his white lenses. It was strange, but you had gotten used to them: the constant barrier between you and him. It kept your relationship at bay and ached your heart. You slowly lifted his mask like you were peeling away wallpaper when he grabbed your arms.

“Wait…”

You peered into his lenses for a response you clearly wouldn’t receive, so you dropped your hands and faced the night sky ahead of you. You could see the street that led to Duke’s, a knock-off of Delmar’s, according to Spider-Man, from the top of your apartment building.

“Can I at least get your name?”

The silence filled with the sound of his heavy breaths. You knew the suit didn’t cut off his oxygen supply so he must have been nervous. Though he had no reason to be. He was the one hiding behind red and blue lycra.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He whispered after a minute of gruesome silence. “It’s not safe.”

“Bullshit.” That was the same excuse he used every time you asked about his personal life and it infuriated you. The way everything you knew about him could be found in a newspaper. Each story he told was one you heard hours prior on the news—minus the witty commentary. Who knew Spider-Man was so into pizza? Everyone that knew Joe from Bleecker street’s pizza shop. Who knew Iron-Man was his favorite superhero? Everyone on Twitter. Nothing you knew about him was personal. It could all be found online. “New York’s the safest it’s ever been—this is about you.” 

“Actually, Linda from 3rd street almost got purse-napped the other day and—“ He rambled on about crime rates, anything he could to deflect the situation. Just like always. 

“We’ve known each other for how long.” You interrupted and he quickly replied. “Eight months and 28 days—give or take a day.”

“Eight months and I don’t know anything about you.”

“That’s not true—“

“And everything I do know everyone else does too!”

“No… I told you about that churro I had the other day—no one knew that.”

You pulled your phone from your pocket, swiping the screen to reveal a photo of him eating a cylinder shaped cinnamon stick. It had shown up on your Twitter feed after getting half a million likes.

“What?!” His lenses contracted as he peered at the image. “That’s my worst angle!”

You chewed your lips, refusing to give him the laugh he was so obviously looking for. You didn’t even smile. His unreadable expression made you bite your lips so hard a warm metallic swarmed in your mouth.

“Y/n,” he said, lifting a clothed hand to your face. His finger brushed on your lip and you pulled back when you looked into his cold lenses. Affection was always weird when you didn’t know who it was coming from.

“Don’t call me that.” You sneered, pocketing your phone as you stood. His lenses contracted.

“What?”

“If I don’t get to know your name then you don’t get to know mine.” It was petty, but nothing about your situation was fair. You told him everything. When you talked about your parents, he mentioned Stark Industries; when you gushed about your dream life, he raved about web-shooters and cameras; and when you bared your deepest secrets to him, he unveiled his affinity for board games. Because god knows he couldn’t find anything better to say, right?

“But I already know it…”

“Then don’t use it!” Your voice cracked as you continued. “A-and if I don’t get to see you then you don’t get to see me.” You b-lined past the patio tables and plant pots to the door that led into your apartment building. You hesitated when you grabbed the door knob, slowly twisting it as you squeezed your eyes shut. You wished to every star above that he would say something. All he had to do was ask you to stay and you would. 

“I-it’s Peter!” You stopped in your tracks, turning around. “What?” 

“My name. It’s Peter.”

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105 notes - Posted August 20, 2022

#2

Sneaky as a Spider

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Only one thing could ever help Peter sleep

Warnings: insomnia | WC: 720

You rub your eyes while your phone buzzes on your nightstand. The clock next to it shines a bright red reading: 12:05 A.M. You glance to the side, your eyes skipping over the moonlight shining through your window when you grab your phone, spotting a text from Peter that reads: “can i come over?” 

The two of you had gotten into the habit of sleeping at each other's apartments. It started when you fell asleep studying at his place and quickly grew into sleepovers over the phone and in-person when you could. You didn’t know it at the time, but Peter had an easier time falling asleep when you were around. 

Your eyes glance over the text again, slowly shutting but a tap on your window scares you awake. 

You quickly stand. The hairs on your arms following beat as your heart jumps and a blur shifts behind your window curtain. You carefully pull it open, spotting Peter. 

“Seriously?!” You whisper, opening the window as he steps inside.

“I told you I was coming,” he says, discarding his backpack on the floor as you rub your temples. 

You never understood Peter’s fondness for heights. Sure, your apartment’s only on the third floor, but any sane person would go through the front door.

“No, you asked if you could, and I didn’t respond.”

“Same thing,” he says, changing out of his jeans and into the pajamas stuffed in his backpack.

“You can’t be here.” You lock your bedroom door then sit on your bed; your head leaning against the headboard.

Your parents would kill you if they knew you snuck someone into your room. Their apartment.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he shrugs, zipping his bag after shoving his clothes inside. 

You hated how hard it was for him to fall asleep, but he only ever acted like it was normal.

“You should really do something about that—talk to someone.”

“Where's the fun in that?” He asks, and even in the dark, you know he has a cheeky smile plastered on his face. 

Peter liked to joke around a lot. You came to see it as a defense mechanism; his way of dealing with things. But that wasn’t the only thing you learned.

After a few sleepovers, you quickly realized he wasn’t a deep sleeper. He always seemed to have his guard up; worried about something. He never told you what it was but you assumed it had to do with college applications. He really wanted to get into MIT and admissions had gotten harder this year. You wish he would talked to someone about it. Someone that wasn’t you—a professional.

“Maybe you should talk to aunt May,” you suggest, blinking away a tired tear while he rocks from his heels to his toes. 

“Or… you could let me stay over.”

You were his favorite form of comfort. He already tried reading books and watching boring films to fall asleep. He even meditated once. But nothing made him fall asleep faster than being with you. You always fell asleep before him, telling him off when he shuffled too much. But he found it amusing. Your groggy swears and soft breaths lulled him to bed. He hoped things would stay this way—you and him—minus the insomnia and distressing dreams he had every now and then. But even then, maybe it’d be worth it if you stayed around. 

“Fine,” you say, lifting your duvet as Peter crawls in beside you. You’re too tired to argue and Peter too stubborn. 

“But seriously, sleep this time,” you scold, referencing the time you two stayed up guessing between real and fake objects to see which were actually cake.

“I will. Scouts honor.” He salutes to your ceiling and you roll your eyes. 

“And you have to sneak out before my parents wake up,” you add, “quietly.”

“Sneaky as a spider,” he says, and you nod at the odd saying before slowly shutting your eyes.

You ignore the feeling of Peter’s gaze, easily falling asleep as your breath hitches and finds a steady rhythm. One thought playing in your mind while you drift into oblivion: sneaky as a spider. 

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233 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

In a Minute

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: trying to wake a sleepy peter

Word Count: 560

——————————

“Pst.” You whispered, staring at Peter’s bare back as he laid beside you snoring softly. It was a quarter past one and you had woken up hours ago. Peter, on the other hand, was still fast asleep. His hand under a white pillow as he slept on his stomach. His back rising and falling with soft breaths.

You decided to let him sleep in two hours ago. During which you managed to shower, eat breakfast, and zoom through a couple cartoon episodes. Now you were bored, and Peter was still asleep. 

It was getting ridiculous.

His snores grew louder and you huffed out an annoyed breath, rolling your eyes when an idea came to mind. 

Laying down, you shimmied under the duvet before accidentally flicking a hand at him. It slapped his back with a loud clap! One you were sure would wake him. 

He wiggled before squeezing his pillow and finding a comfortable position—still asleep.

Seriously? You rolled your eyes, heaving in a heavy breath before another idea came to mind. 

Slowly, you turned so that your back was facing him, then scooted backwards, invading his side of the bed and stumbling onto his arm. He pulled it back—still asleep—and you continued to shimmy onto his side of the bed. 

“Y/n…” He groaned. His raspy voice was muffled by his pillow, which he held onto tight as you pushed him closer to the edge of the bed. 

You bit your lip to hide a laugh and continued scooting. His groans filled the air.

“Y/n!” He said. This time louder with more bass to it.

He was dangling off the bed about to fall when his eyes snapped open.

“Seriously?!” He lifted his head, looking over your body when you shut your eyes. “You have all that space—why do you need mine?!”

You could hear the irritation in his tired voice. If the clock on your nightstand wasn’t shining a bright 1:18 P.M., you would’ve felt bad. But it was way past sleeping time and you were bored.

“Sorry.” You said, turning to face him. The guilt in your voice lasted only three seconds before you were back to your cheerful self. “But now that you’re up—we should do something.” 

His eyes were already shutting. 

You slapped his arm and they fluttered back open, his brown irises gazing at you under lowered eyelids. 

“If I weren’t so tired right now I’d say you did that on purpose.” 

“What?”

His lips inched upwards. “Try to murder me in my sleep.”

You groaned. “Of course I did!” The thought of staying in bed for another minute was dreadful. “And if you don’t get up, I’ll finish the job.”

“May will be sad.” He said, snuggling into his pillow.

“She’ll understand.”

He reached a hand out, laying it on your hip. You felt his fingers strum along your skin. “Fine.” He pulled you into him. His arms were wrapped around your back, holding you tight. “In a minute.”

“Peter…” You warned, but he was already exhaling soft breaths. His head was nuzzled into your shoulder and you weren’t sure how he could breathe from his position but somehow he made it work. 

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498 notes - Posted November 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[primofate]

2K Followers Event: Pancake and Waffle Cafe Masterlist

Nutella Waffles (overhearing and misunderstanding a conversation/situation) MODERN AU ANGST

Characters: Childe, Kazuha, Thoma, Albedo, Kaeya, Zhongli, fem!reader

Warnings: not proofread :D, cheating, fighting, insulting, misunderstanding (duh), pregnancy, sexual innuendos, implying sex, mentions of sex, still SFW though, of course I bent the lore since it’s an AU

Notes: I had trouble with this so I decided to make it a modern AU. That’s also why it took so long. I think my brain is starting to run dry XD I mean, there’s only so much situations/conversations I could think of that could be misunderstood. Still, enjoy!

Childe

"Ah, sorry, Y/N, I can’t walk you home today... Maybe tomorrow?” Childe smiled at you, scratching the back of his head, his school bag swung over his shoulder already. He looked like he was in a hurry. 

It’s been a few days like this and you really didn’t know what was happening. You asked him if he needed help with stuff at home or if he was having a hard time with his homework and if that’s why he was always rushing off. He would just give you the same smile and wave a hand. “It’s nothing like that,” and then off he’d go. 

The next day, as you walk towards his classroom during lunchtime you hear him and his friends talking before you even reach the classroom door. 

“Zoe is totally cute,” Childe says. The voice he uses is something that he’d never used on you before. You freeze in your tracks and try to listen in more. “Wow, she really is! Great job picking her!” one of his friends said and it sounded as if they’d hit Childe on the back as a congratulations. “Let me see, let me see,” another one says followed by a gasp. “Have you taken her out yet?” Childe laughs nervously and you know all too well without even looking at him that he’s probably scratching his head. “No, not yet,” 

“Does your girlfriend know yet?” Someone else asks.

And then you hear a laugh that’s all too mischievous. All too playful. All too heart-wrenching. “She doesn’t know!” and they continue to laugh.

You turn away and try your hardest not to let tears escape from your eyes. It felt as if you were being laughed at. Like everyone knew that he was cheating. Everyone except you. It doesn’t help that there was a Zoe in the other class too. The way his friends laughed made your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and the tears you were so desperately holding back to finally flow through.

You ended up staying in the washroom for the whole of lunch time, staying in a cubicle for an extra few minutes, late for the next class.

Somehow you didn’t expect Childe to still show up in your classroom to pick you up for the day and walk you home. You stare at him at the classroom door, your eyes had already gone back to their normal shade, but still glossy. He doesn’t notice, he has a big smile on his face that mocks you. Ridicules you. 

“Y/N! Let’s go together today!” Does he feel guilty? Is that why he finally agrees to walk home with you? Cause he’s had his fill of Zoe already? You don’t say a word and exit the classroom, going past him. Childe blinks, and turns to watch you walking away from him. “Y/N?”

He walks after you, and takes his place next to you. He touches the strap of your backpack, as usual, and says “I’ll take this--”

“I got it,” you reply curtly and move away from him. He’s dumbfounded, eyes still a little wide at your sudden coldness. Now he’s getting anxious. Did he do something wrong? “H-Hey...Y/N, are you mad because I didn’t walk home with you the past couple days? See, I was just--”

“I’m not that petty!” You nearly growl at him, holding his gaze for a few seconds before walking off again. Your eyes are starting to prickle with more tears. You just wanted to get home. As soon as you can. Away from him. You didn’t have the heart to break up with him face to face. You liked him too much, you knew you wouldn’t be able to do it while looking at his handsome face. 

Then, he snatches your wrist and pulls you back towards him. The school hallways are emptying out, there’s a few students walking by who ignore the two of you. “Then what’s the matter? I don’t like it when we fight. At least tell me what I did!” 

You wrench your wrist away from his and start sniffing. He stands there, shocked at where your tears are coming from. Until you start talking. “I heard you, during lunch time,” his eyebrows furrow. “Lunch...time?” He mumbles, not following. “When you were talking about your cute Zoe!” He doesn’t say anything for a moment and that only confirms your fears. 

He’d been looking at other girls, and probably wanting them.

“...Y/N, Zoe is...” Childe scratched his cheek, averting his eyes away. 

“I don’t wanna hear it,” you try to turn away, but he doesn’t let you and holds your shoulders with his hands, staring straight at you. “My dog,” You were crying at this point, and when you hear his next words your eyes narrow. “W-What?”

“Zoe is my new dog,” 

“B-But your friend asked if you took her out yet...”

“Yeah,” Childe tilted his head, “for a walk?” As you start to connect the dots he takes out his phone and shows you the picture of a cute miniature poodle, it had a collar and a silver tag on it that said “Zoe”. You thought that you might cry again at how cute she was but you just glare up at Childe. “Well, I didn’t tell you cause I was gunna surprise you. I’ve been going home early these days cause we had to go visit the pound a few times and finalize the papers and everything...” 

“I-Is that true? Is that all it is?” You sniff, now wiping your stupid tears away. Childe smiles down at you and takes your hands away from your face, replacing it with his, thumbing away the streaks of wetness. “Y/N, no one can ever replace you,” you sniff and let him dote on you. You’d been missing him for a while anyway. 

“...Well except Zoe, maybe Zoe can,” he’s clearly teasing you and you don’t hesitate to lift your fist and punch him on the shoulder, earning a small “Ow,” from him followed by a laugh. “I’m just kidding, how ‘bout you come over and visit her today? It’s only her second day home!”

Thoma

You’d made an appointment with your friend a long time ago. Just a quick lunch and catch up date. Thoma had graciously volunteered to drive you to the mall where you were meeting up with her.

“You sure you don’t need me to pick you up? It’s Saturday. I’m free,” he flashes you a smile, his eyes darting towards you only for a second before going back to the road. “I’ll be fine hun, I’ll take the bus home,” you reply to him.

Halfway through your journey he says that he needs to buy something from a convenience store, and so he parks the car properly and grabs his wallet. His phone is on the car phone stand and you pay no heed to it until a soft ‘ding’ makes you pick your head up to look at the screen. 

Your best friend’s name pops up, she’s messaged him and your blood runs cold.

“I’ll come over when Y/N’s gone,” the message read. Your heart is already at your throat, and you don’t know what to think. What is this make-believe situation that you’re suddenly in. Is this really happening? Your eyes dart upwards to look at the door of the convenience store. You could see Thoma was still looking at the shelves.

You gulp and you wonder what the right thing to do is. Invade his privacy and peek at his messages? Let it go? Confront him? Cry? Another ‘ding’ fills up the car.

“How long is she going to be out? The longer the better. So...” you couldn’t read the rest of the message, it being cut off but you were already spiraling down the hole of despair. How could he? Your sweet and loyal Thoma ended up going behind your back with your best friend. You thought you were going to be sick, you actually had to roll the windows of the car down to get some fresh air, just as Thoma came out of the convenience store door with a plastic bag. 

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t even be in the same space as him. You were going to cancel today with your friend, you didn’t think you’d be able to function properly. When he sat on the driver’s seat and saw you looking out the window, he didn’t think much of it and revved the engine up. “Ready hu--”

“Take me to my sister’s place,” Thoma blinked and turned to you, confused. “But, what about your lunch date today, dear?”

“I don’t feel like going. My sister’s place is nearby, just drop me off there,” Your hands were already typing a reply to the friend that you were about to stand up on, but you couldn’t even think of what to do or say. 

“Dear is everything okay?” He asked while backing the car up, arm outstretched to your side while he’s looking at the rear. He was appalled by your sudden mood change. You didn’t answer but he hears you sniff and he immediately stops the car again. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” He’s alarmed that you’re crying and he reaches to cup your chin and tilt it towards him but you move your face away from him. 

“Y/N?” he asked, the confusion in his voice is actually genuine and you can hear a bit of panic in it. “How long have you been seeing Aya?” you spit the words as if they’re poison and the car is quiet. You laugh bitterly. “I thought so, cat got your tongue, huh?” 

Thoma shook himself out of his confusion to say, “No, wait, I don’t know what you mean,” You scoff at him. You’re shocked at the amount of resentment you had, you trusted this man and yet this is what happens. “Yeah? Why is she sneaking into our house then?” You point at his phone, the screen is still lit up because of the messages and there were more coming in from your best friend. 

Thoma snatches the phone away from the stand and looks at it. Then, he deflates and slumps back on his seat. “Y/N, it’s not what you think,” You hate that line so much. You cross your arms and say, “Just drop me at my sister’s house,” 

“Y/N--”

“NOW!”

The drive was quiet. You didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to push you but didn’t want to drop you off to your sister’s without explaining as well. So, just before your sister’s block, he parks on the side and unbuckles his seat belt, then opens your side of the door. “Y/N, listen to me,” he’s rarely this assertive, but you still don’t listen. He’s blocking your escape path. 

“It’s your birthday today,” Thoma starts and you blink, completely forgetting about it. “Ayu is sneaking in our house while you’re gone because we were going to set up a surprise for you.” He says slowly, as if he’s talking to a child. Your eyes widen, and you relax in your seat. He gives you his phone and urges you, “Go on, Y/N, you know my passcode right? I don’t hide anything from you, you can read the rest,” 

You hesitate, but accept his offer and type it in. 

“How long is she going to be out? The longer the better. So we can set up the balloons,”

“I got the cake don’t forget the candles and lighter,”

Thoma picks up his other hand that had the white plastic bag from the convenience store, he picks up the two items from inside. Birthday candles. And a lighter. 

Your mouth opens, but you can’t say anything and you only bury your face in your hands out of shame. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry Thoma, I--” He manages to let out a laugh and kisses the top of your head. “I’m so stupid. I trust you, I really do, I just--” now you’re not sure if you’re crying out of relief or embarrassment. “I’m so sorry,” You can’t say anything else and he only kisses you on the forehead again.

“It’s alright, you can make it up to me by going on that lunch date, okay? You deserve the rest. You haven’t cancelled yet have you? Let’s freshen up at your sister’s place and I’ll send you to the mall,” 

You nod your head, small smile on your face. This was gunna be one story to tell in the future.

“Oh and it would help if you act surprised when you come home,” Thoma adds with a full laugh that you join in on. 

Kaeya

"So how are you and Y/N?”

It’d only been a couple of months of the two of you dating. Kaeya was handsome, gallant and he knew exactly what to say to people. It wasn’t a secret that he was quite popular in school. 

Little old you was just another girl in just another class.

“Good, I think,” Kaeya responds, you smile around the corner, hidden from sight, knowing that he was taking a juice box break with his friends. “It’s a little annoying though,” your smile drops and your head tilts sideways in question. “I can’t keep her away and she doesn’t even realize how annoying it is,” 

Keep me away? You think. Am I too clingy? You hear them exchange words a bit more, but none of the other words process in your head. Their laughter spurs you out of your thoughts and you return to your classroom dumbfounded. 

When the bell rang for dismissal you immediately packed and walked home by yourself. Kaeya was confused when he arrived at your classroom door, and found that you weren’t there anymore. “...Hey, did Y/N go home?” he asked one of your passing classmates. “Yeah, she went out pretty fast,”

Now he was worried. Did something happen at home? He takes his phone out as he’s out the school building, tapping your name and calling, only for the call to not even connect. His brows furrow but nonetheless, he goes home for today and types in a message for you.

“Hey, you okay? Talk to me if you need something,” 

The next day, when he usually waits outside your door for you to come out, he realizes that you’re a little late and further realizes that you weren’t going to come out. He wasn’t about to knock on your door, your parents didn’t know about him yet. 

He tries to call you again but he’s met with the same result as yesterday. He sighs and looks up at the sky while he’s walking. He hasn’t seen you for nearly a full day now, and he doesn’t realize how long a full day is until now. He just wants to see your smiling face again and he starts to wonder if he’d done something wrong. 

By lunchtime, he’s sprinting towards your classroom as soon as the bell rings, wondering if you were there. Indeed, finally, he spots you in your classroom and his shoulders slump in relief only to tense up again when he sees a guy in your class talking to you, and you, smiling happily. 

“Y/N,” he calls out to you, waving his hand. You look away from your conversation to him and he notices how your smile turns into a tight line on your face. His own smile drops, but you walk out of the classroom anyway and address him. “Yes?” He blinks down at your tone of voice. “U-Uh... Wanna have lunch together?” 

“...But it’s annoying that I’m clingy right?” The two of you unconsciously move away from the door to out in the hallway, so that you’re not blocking the way of people coming in and out. He narrows his eyes in confusion. Where is this coming from? “I--No, what do you mean? I never said that,” 

“Yesterday, you said you can’t keep me away and it’s annoying,” you averted your gaze, feeling your eyes start to water. Kaeya reels back a little, replaying things in his mind, trying to remember if he said something like that. And, with a light bulb moment, his face breaks into a grin and slight laughter. You glare up at him, “What? It’s funny?”

Kaeya places a hand on your shoulder and explains while smiling. “Y/N, you didn’t listen to the rest of the conversation, did you?”

---What really happened---

“It’s really annoying though. I can’t keep her away and she doesn’t even realize how annoying it is,” he sips on his juice box again.

One of his friends pipe up, “Dude that’s a little harsh,”

Kaeya blinks. Once, twice and thrice. Until it dawns on him. “Oh, no, I meant that I can’t keep her away from other people,” he grins and leans both his elbows on the windowsill. “She doesn’t realize that she’s super friendly, and other people like talking to her a lot. Whenever I go to her classroom she’s always talking to different people.”

His friends make a sound of understanding. “I wish I could just keep her to myself,” and continues sipping on his juice.

“That’s really cheesy, even for you, Kaeya,” one of his friends say and the lot of them starts laughing.

---That’s what really happened---

It was your turn to blink at him, confused. “S-So...”

Kaeya pats your head and smiles. “You can ask my friends if it makes you feel better,”

A small blush crosses your cheeks and you duck your head to hide it. It earns yet another chuckle from him. Your moment is interrupted by another guy who approaches the two of you. “Hey, Y/N, if you’re free, do you think you could help me out with this? I don’t really understand it,” 

Kaeya just looks at the guy and sighs, then turns to you again. “See what I mean?” to which you just goofily smile at. 

Kazuha 

“You saw what?”

Your hands freeze, holding the book you were reading open. The living room had gotten lively again, seeing as your little brother had come home from school. “I saw Kazuha with a girl,” 

You try to keep your face composed. It was a school day. You’d stayed home because you weren’t feeling too well. Your brother was saying it without a care in the world. He was just a grade schooler and telling you about the things he observed. He was looking through the fridge for something to drink. 

You didn’t ask more, but you were DYING to know more. Kazuha didn’t mention going anywhere today... You picked your phone up and wondered if you should ask him. Your phone had blown up this morning cause he didn’t see you at school and he was wondering if you were alright. 

But it seems that Kazuha himself was having a grand time too.

“So...T-The girl...Did they look close?”

Your little brother closes the fridge and looks at you while drinking from a milk carton. “Mm...They were holding each other...” You bit your lip as tingles run down your spine. They weren’t the good kind. It was the kind that you get when you watch horror movies and or a drama movie and a revelation had just happened. You were silent for a moment, but in your mind you were already thinking of how Kazuha looked with another girl. Holding each other? What did your brother mean? Like...hugging? Or...? But you couldn’t ask him about that, could you?!

You sighed out loud and slammed the book you were reading down on the table, just as your phone started ringing. “Kazuha,” you whispered under your breath and looked at your phone screen. Well...you believed in him, and you thought the best way to clear this up is to talk to him about it.

So, you grabbed your phone and retreated into your bedroom to talk to him. You picked up the call, “Kazu-kun?”

“Y/N,” he greeted. Even apart, his voice has this effect on you. Like he was really there and breathing into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You were sure that you were blushing. “How are you? Are you feeling better?” His voice is smooth and calm and you melt into your bed. “Yeah, a little,”

“Could I come over later? I just want to check on you,” You smile into your phone and close your eyes. Kazuha could never do that to you, you think to yourself. But still, you really wanted to ask. “Of course, I don’t think my parents would mind...Hey,” you start, your fingers nervously drawing circles on your pillow. “My brother said he saw you...with a girl,”

There’s silence on the other line, and you can hear him shifting a little. “A...girl?” He repeats the question and you bite your lip. He sounds unsure and now you were unsure too. “Yeah, he said that you were holding on to each other...or something,” Again some silence, until he makes a sound of understanding.

“Ah, he must mean Sango,” there’s a little lilt to his voice, like he was happy and you were a little jealous. “Sango’s my cousin, she came to surprise me for my birthday week.” Kazuha laughs nervously and adds a little hesitantly. “She...uhm...would like to meet you actually, is it okay if I bring her over today?” 

Your heart sighs in relief, as do you and you don’t realize that you’ve done that out loud. In the next moment though, you smile and nod, even though he can’t see you. “Of course! Bring her over!” 

Albedo (More fluff than angst)

Cleaning at home was one of the things you did to get your mind off of things. Some people would call it tedious, but to you, it was sort of relaxing. It was something easy to do, you didn’t need much of your brain, just motor memory. Folding. Laundry. Ironing. Sweeping. Basic chores.

But when you clean up in the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend, and found a neatly wrapped present, red wrapping paper and blue ribbon tied on the top with a tag that said “To: Leila” you’re a little dumbfounded.

Who’s Leila? Is your first thought. Your second thought is, what’s inside? You hold the nicely wrapped box in your hand and turn it all over, trying to get some type of hint. A flash of doubt seeps into your mind but you shake it away. Albedo isn’t like that...Is he? He’s always so dedicated to his scientific research and sure he comes home late sometimes but he always makes it up to you on the weekends...

So who’s Leila? You ask yourself again. And why hasn’t he mentioned it to you? Why didn’t he ask YOU to wrap it? Menial tasks like these were usually passed on to you. You bite your thumb just thinking about it, but in the end just leave the present where you find it.

Later that night as you’re fixing dinner, you aren’t as bothered by the gift as when you first saw it. But it’s still there at the back of your mind and it resurfaces to the front when you hear the familiar keys rattle. Despite that, as he snakes his arms around your waist from behind you can’t help but smile and melt a little, pressing back against him as he leans over to kiss your cheek. “...Smells nice,” he simply mumbles and closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth of both you and your home.

“Welcome back,” you say, while closing the lid on the pot and turning around to give him a proper kiss on the lips. He hums into the kiss as a response and pulls you away from the stove. “How’s your day?” he asks you first and you smile, because your day is nearly the same time and time again. “Fine, I did find a little secret though...” you start and peek up at his beautiful eyes. 

He nods to ask you to continue. “A present, nicely wrapped. and it’s addressed to someone called Leila,” He looks down at you and you stare at him. A moment passes by before he takes his arms back and go into his thinking pose. “...Leila...?” he asks, eyes averting from your gaze. You wonder if he’s pretending. You wonder if he’s trying to make an excuse up. “...I don’t--” and then his eyebrows twitch. “Ah,” he says and drops his arms to his side.

“We were invited to a birthday party, remember? By a co-worker,” he tucks in strands of your hair as he talks. “It’s her daughter’s first birthday...I don’t care much for such things but you insisted it’d be alright to go.” he chuckles a little. “Her daughter’s name is Leila,” 

You make a sound of understanding. Suddenly your hesitant thoughts wither away. “Hmmm? You could’ve asked me to wrap the present,” Albedo pulls away from you and towards the fridge, wanting a glass of water. “The wrapping wasn’t done by me, it was the shop, free service,” and so it made more sense.

And although you want to ask more questions, like where he got it, when and what’s inside, you realize it’s such a trivial thing. It was not worth that much time. A gift is a gift, and you turn back to continue making dinner while making idle conversation with him. 

Zhongli (Warning: Suggestive) (but this is also my personal favourite... aha...)

“Zhongli?” You arrive home a little early today, dropping your keys at the front shelf. You don’t hear him anywhere and you shuffle around your living room for a while, looking at the letters for today. 

He was on a work from home arrangement today, and he would usually be in his office. You were quite sure that he would’ve come out to greet you though, if he heard you. He must be busy at the moment. 

You’d wanted to wash your hands as soon as you came home, and went for the guest washroom. When you open the door, your eyes land on something on the counter, next to the sink. This bathroom was always kept clean for visitors. You liked to host people once in a while, or just invite friends and you took pride in having them comfortable in your house.

Your eyes narrow as you go closer and your hands pick up a pregnancy test that was lying there. 

It was positive.

You put it back down and shudder a little. You don’t remember getting a pregnancy test. You bite your lip and look at yourself in the mirror. You’re already jumping to conclusions, and you can’t help it. Who the hell would leave a pregnancy test in YOUR guest bathroom? Zhongli didn’t mention anything...

You sigh a breath out and close the bathroom door behind you, taking your phone out to text your best friend.

“There’s a positive pregnancy test in our guest bathroom,”

After a moment, there’s a reply.

“OMG Are you preggers?!”

“No, it’s not mine,”

The next reply takes a moment more. “Oh, maybe ask him?” and you know that your friend hadn’t known what to reply at that moment. Because a random positive pregnancy test in your guest bathroom was NOT a good sign. To top it off, you didn’t announce to Zhongli that you were coming home early today.

Your perk up when you hear noise from the other room. You open the bathroom door slightly, and hear the unmistakable low voice of your fiance, coupled with...the voice of another woman. You close the bathroom door again, not bothering to lock it, and sit on the closed toilet seat. You’re sitting there with nothing in your mind, unable to think.

A few minutes later the voices are louder, they’ve moved to the living room, right outside the bathroom you were in. You tense up, and your jaw tightens. You don’t want to see them. You don’t want to hear them. For a moment you wish that you didn’t come home early, and just pretend this didn’t happen, but the door to the bathroom door opens, leaving you eye to eye with a woman you recognize.

Luna was a beautiful woman. Long cascading brown hair, they’re wavy and stops right at her waist. Doll-like blue eyes and a slender body. She sees you sitting there and you feel stupid, but she just breaks into a grin. “Y/N!” she grabs you by the wrist and pulls you out of the bathroom before you could even say anything. You’re numb, so you don’t respond to anything around you.

Zhongli turns around wide-eyed to see you standing there meekly, not meeting his gaze. He still goes to you though and asks curiously. “When did you come in? I didn’t hear you,” he places a hand on your arm while Luna releases you, but you still don’t look up and he wonders if something happened at your workplace to make you come home so early. “Luna and Childe stopped by,” Zhongli says, in at attempt to cheer you up. You look up, and only then did you realize that Childe was there too, talking animatedly to Luna. You tilt your head sideways, “They came with a surprise. Ah, but it’s not mine to tell,” 

That’s right... Luna and Childe had been together for a while and then it hits you when Luna shows you the same positive pregnancy test you saw on the counter, and announces that she’s pregnant. Your eyes are wide. You can’t tell if you’re more relieved that it wasn’t what you thought or more happy for your friends. You feel horrible about it but you manage to crack a smile and went along with the festivities. The more time passed the more you were able to enjoy their happiness and by the time they left, that was the only time you sighed and let your shoulders slump, exhausted.

“Is something the matter?” Zhongli asked. He noticed how your smiles were a tad bit forced. How you seemed to enjoy everything but also seemed to be on edge. You turn to him and shook your head. “It’s...stupid. It’s my mistake,” but he holds on to your waist and urges you to tell him.

And you tell him. How you came home and saw what you saw in the guest bathroom, what you thought it was and how you felt. The only thing you can feel now is embarrassment and shame. You couldn’t even feel happy for your friend. Zhongli only smiles and combs his hand through your hair. “It’s the normal reaction,” he reassures you, again trying to make you feel better. You only respond with your own hug but his next sentence makes you flustered, all thoughts of earlier gone as he whispers into your ear.

“Would you like your own positive pregnancy test?”

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[sunder-soul]

hii what about Tom Riddle being fucking jealous about reader ?

So I got massively carried away with this one lol, apologies if this isn’t what you were expecting, my imagination went wild!

PART II AVAILABLE! 💖

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.  

Jealousy

Summary: Reader has to tutor an insufferable jock and Tom Riddle starts acting very strangely indeed. Wordcount: 1.8k Content warning: none.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The Great Hall was bright and lively with morning sun and the chatter of students, spoons clinking against bowls and butter spreading on toast.

“What is he doing?” you whisper to Margot sitting next to you at the table.

“I think he’s attempting to show off,” she giggles back.

You were both watching Austin Varrowe, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, obnoxiously demonstrate his Beater swing for a series of very bored looking Ravenclaw girls who weren’t paying him any attention in the slightest.

“Slughorn’s making me tutor that idiot,” you grumble.

“No way,” Margot grins, rounding on you.

“Yup,” you sigh, “can you believe it? Two evenings a week for the rest of the term… I think I’ll brain myself with a cauldron by Friday.”

Margot pats your shoulder sympathetically.

That evening, you reluctantly set off for the dungeons to meet Varrowe with your bag slung over your shoulder, but as you round a corridor you very nearly bowl straight into someone coming the opposite direction.

“Riddle,” you say, surprised, “sorry, didn’t see you there.”

Riddle takes a step back and tidily clasping his hands being his back. “You’re out rather late,” he said smoothly. “And in the dungeons, no less. Are you lost? The library is that way.” He nods back down the corridor.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Riddle was such a know-it-all. “I’m meeting someone, actually,” you say dismissively, checking your watch. “In fact, I better get going or he’ll think I’m standing him up.”

Riddle looks very briefly surprised, and then a cool look of disapproval settles on his fine features. “I don’t suppose I have to remind you that curfew is in two hours,” he says stiffly, “you wouldn’t be intending on breaking that, would you?”

You snort a laugh and step past him. “Thanks for the reminder,” you say sarcastically, “see you later, Riddle.”

You manage to get away before he can say anything else.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Varrowe,” you call, giving your friends a quick wave as you dash to catch up to him in the throng of students making their way to their next class. “Are you free tonight?”

“Oh – right,” Varrowe says, looking dispirited. “Sure. Seven o’clock?”

You nod and lean closer. “Please make sure you actually bring your textbook this time,” you mutter, managing to keep your exasperation off your face. “You do in fact need to read it at least once to pass the class.”

Varrowe grins and reaches out to ruffle your hair. “You’re smart,” he says loudly, “barely understood a thing you said last time.”

“Right,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to tidy your hair. “Well, see you this evening.”

“Sounds good,” Varrowe shrugs, wandering away.

You sigh. Slughorn better appreciate your sacrifice; tutoring Varrowe was the equivalent of torture. You turn on your heel to catch up with your friends, but once again you come face to face with –

“You have got to stop sneaking up on me,” you say dryly, “seriously, Riddle, it’s creepy.”

Riddle’s eyes slide from Varrowe’s retreating form to your face. “Is Varrowe the one you were meeting last week?” he asks smoothly.

The question surprises you. “Yeah, why?” you frown.

“And you’re meeting him again?”

You arch a brow at his decidedly clipped tone. “Yeah but don’t worry, I promise I won’t break curfew, I know that’s of the utmost importance to you –”

“An odd choice,” Riddle interrupts, something uncharacteristically irate in his voice, “Varrowe.”

You stare at him. “…Is he?” you ask pointedly, unable to think of anyone more in need of tutoring. Only yesterday Varrowe had lost his phial of Flobberworm mucus and had asked Slughorn if he could just use some of his own instead. “I think he’s the perfect choice.”

Riddle’s eyes flash. “I should be going,” he says curtly, “see you in class.” He gives you a single, stiff nod and leaves without another glance.

You blink after him, shaking your head in confusion. Riddle was acting very, very strangely.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“So if you overboil it, it’ll turns green,” Varrowe said slowly, peering at the notes on Veritaserum on the desk between you, “but if you underboil it, it’ll get those weird lumps?”

“Yes,” you say with great relief.

“Is it better to overboil it or underboil it?”

You immediately regret having felt relieved. “It’s better to do neither,” you say flatly.

Varrowe heave a great sigh and carelessly leans back in his chair. “I’m too tired for this,” he complains. “Did I mention that we had an extra Quidditch practice this morning?”

He had. Six times.

You slide your things into your bag and stand. “You’re right, it’s late,” you mutter, “we can pick this up again on Monday.”

Varrowe gleefully stands too and is out the door of the Potions classroom in a heartbeat. “Are you coming to the game next weekend?” he asks you in the corridor outside, unsubtly flexing his shoulder muscles as he pretends to roll them out.

You very nearly roll your eyes. “Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Excellent,” he grins, “I’ve been working on this tag-team move with Procker that’ll really have Slytherin guessing, I’ll have to show you later –”

“Varrowe.”

The voice is crisp and cool, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess who it is.

“Riddle,” Varrowe says, looking disgruntled. “Why are you here?”

“I’m a prefect, if you recall,” Riddle says in a glacial tone, “patrols are part of my responsibilities.”

“How very fortunate indeed that you were patrolling this exact corridor at this exact time,” you say with a hint of sarcasm. “Merlin, imagine if we’d forgotten about curfew.”

Riddle’s dark eyes flash to you, and you impassively hold his gaze. “You should return to your common rooms,” he says delicately, “or I will be forced to give you both detentions.”

“Steady on Riddle,” Varrowe grins, “we’ve got half an hour yet, give us a second to say goodbye.”

Riddle wrenches his eyes off you and fixes Varrowe with a very cold look. “You will go at once,” he says in a dangerously soft tone, “do you understand?”

Varrowe bristles, standing taller and pushing his chest out in a way he clearly thinks is intimidating. Riddle looks utterly unfazed.

Sensing trouble on the horizon, you grab Varrowe’s sleeve and tug him back. “Come on, Varrowe,” you say quickly, “let’s go. You’ve got practice in the morning, right?”

Varrowe glares at Riddle who was yet to move an inch, his expression still cool and blank. “Right,” Varrowe growls, “yeah, let’s go.”

Varrowe turns and stalks off, not noticing that you don’t follow. Instead, you round on Riddle.

“Will you explain what the hell is going on?” you whisper angrily.

“Watch your tongue,” Riddle says sharply.

You glower at him. “So sorry – I mean, will you please explain what the hell is going on?”

His eyes narrow. “It would not be wise to antagonise me,” he says icily.

“Would it not?” you breathe, stepping closer. “What are you going to do, dock me points? Give me detention?”

Riddle’s eyes are dark and hostile, and something works in his jaw as he glares back at you.

“Back off, Riddle,” you snap, “I don’t know what your problem is with me, but seriously, drop it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he breathes.

“Oh? You always threaten people with detention when they’ve done nothing wrong? I’m sure Slughorn will be overjoyed to hear that his favourite prefect is abusing his power like that,” you hiss, leaning closer.

Riddle visibly grits his teeth with fury on his face. A tense silence falls, and you suddenly realise that the two of you are standing far, far too closely together.

You step back at once, trying to ignore the strange feeling that swells in your stomach. “Goodnight, Riddle,” you mutter, turning to hurry away.

“Why Varrowe?” he says sharply, stopping you in your tracks.

You look over your shoulder at him. Riddle’s hair looks even blacker in the dark corridor, his burning eyes on yours, the flickering light from the torch on the wall beside him throwing shadows down his cheekbones. “What?” you frown. Now was definitely not the time to get distracted by Riddle’s good looks.

“Why Varrowe?” Riddle repeats stiffly. “He’s a simpleton.”

You blink. “Exactly,” you say slowly.

Something hostile flickers on Riddle’s face before he quickly tempers his expression back into composure. “I appear to have misjudged you,” he says coldly, looking away.

“What are you talking about?” you exclaim in exasperation. “Do you not understand how tutoring works? If he wasn’t absolutely thick I wouldn’t have to waste my evenings explaining to him that Cough Potions are for curing coughs and not inducing them.”

Riddle stares at you. The silence drags on.

You sigh impatiently. “I’m going to bed,” you grumble, turning away again.

“Wait,” he says sharply.

You wheel around, annoyed. “What?”

But your frustration is wiped away in an instant because Riddle is once again much too close. So close, in fact, that you can see the shadows his eyelashes are casting down his cheeks and the heat in his eyes as he looks down at you.

“You’re tutoring him?” he asks quietly.

You nod silently, your throat suddenly thick with nerves.

“That’s why you were meeting him.”

You nod again, unable to look away from him.

Riddle hums contemplatively, his expression smooth as his dark eyes roam your face. “Good,” he murmurs.

“Good?” you whisper.

Riddle’s lips curve into a small smirk, his head tilting slightly, and you absolutely do not blush at the sight. “Weren’t you going to bed?” he asks silkily.

“Worried about me breaking curfew, are you?” you say with a flicker of a taunt, trying to ignore your heart pounding quickly in your chest.

Riddle’s smirk grows. “I told you not to antagonise me,” he says smoothly as he steps in even closer, so close that his robes graze against your arms and you can feel warmth radiating from him as he looms over you.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, “seems to be going pretty well for me so far.”

Riddle’s eyes flick between yours, and for a single burning moment the tension is so thick that you can hear your pulse thrumming in your ears, your gaze dropping to his full lips and seeing his do the same to yours – and then just like that, Riddle steps away.

“Goodnight,” he says evenly, “I trust you can get back to your common room without supervision.”

You nod blankly but Riddle is already turning away and disappearing down the dark corridor, melting into the darkness. You stand there a moment frozen in place, your cheeks burning and your heart still racing as the cold air rushes in where his warmth had been brushing up against your skin.

Riddle was acting very, very strangely indeed.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

PART II AVAILABLE! 💖

[kiridarling]

𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

hanta sero | f!reader, horny!reader, alcohol, bartender!hanta, car sex, riding, half-assed confessions, praise. minors dni!

— 2.9k words

"Look at you, shaking on my cock. I fill you up that well, Baby?"

"Okay, that's enough."

You whine when your shot is plucked out of your hands, your fingers grabbing around nothing once it gets too far from your reach.

"N-No wai—hic!—'m not done yet 'n I paid for that."

You don't even have the sobriety to act enthusiastic, and the bartender raises a pierced eyebrow.

"The club's closing."

You click your tongue at that and groan, before pushing your upper body away from the bar to see that there's no one else here but you and the bartender, with proper lights on to illuminate that the place is a fucking mess.

"What? What happ—happened to partyin' all night long..." You drift, eyes narrowing to make out the floating words on the bartender's name tag, "...Hinata?"

"It's been all night. And it's Hanta," he says curtly, drying what you think might be your shot glass with a fluffy white towel. What a waste. "Another ex?"

"Fine." you nearly yell, dropping your forehead on the bar so hard it hurts—or it would have if you were sober. Which you are. Totally. "And yes. I'm thinking of buying this one dead roses. For shits 'n—hic—gigs."

"Creative," he snorts, sliding his forearms onto the table until they bump into yours from the opposing side. A glass is set next to your head. "C'mon. I'll give you time to sober up while I put everything away. Deal?"

"'N how long 's that gon' take," you struggle to sit up, body tilting to the right despite your best efforts to sit up straight. Hanta shrugs.

"Thirty minutes?"

"That's fine then," you nod, looking around the place through swollen eyes. "'S empty."

"It is. C'mon, drink," he nudges the glass of water your way. You scowl.

"'S gonna make me sober?"

"Yup," Hanta nods, popping the 'p.' You sigh before tossing your head back with another obnoxious groan.

"Then I don' want it," and you contemplate tossing the drink onto the floor, but you figure Hanta wouldn't like that very much. You opt for a pout instead.

"Well, you need it. You're fucked," he says kindly, before picking up the cup full of water and dropping it under your nose. "Now drink."

You sigh, already feeling the sobriety kicking in as you grab your glass by the waist. "You're so fucking difficult."

"Sobriety is good," the bartender offers. You snort.

"Sobriety is fucking terrible," you reply, already hating that it's already kicking in after a few sips. "People come to the club to get fucked. No way I have to leave sober."

"Sober enough to get home," Hanta edits with a nod. It's tempting to throw your heel at his face.

"Sober enough to hate life again," You grouse with narrowed eyes. Hanta shrugs.

"And once you spend a few days hating life, suddenly it doesn't seem so bad," he smiles cheekily before turning his back to you to wash whatever, and you roll your eyes at his optimism.

You stare at him, lips twisted in a disrespectful confusion, and definitely not admiring how the muscles of his back roll under that tight black shirt while he washes the dishes. How can someone look sexy washing the dishes, one may ask, and the answer is—you can't. Therefore, you wholly and completely blame the alcohol for the flush in your cheeks as you pat your back pockets for your wallet so you can pay for a taxi and stumble home to deal with the hangover at work tomorrow.

"You good?" He raises a pierced eyebrow, turning around when you fail to speak. You grimace.

"...My wallet's missing."

Hanta's entire body sags, the rag in his hand hitting the counter as he gives you a look of pure and utter exasperation.

"You're kidding me."

"I..." you pat your butt, just to check and, "Yeah. It's fucking gone."

The noirette runs a heavy hand over his face, before rubbing at the corner of his eyes with a faint yawn. "Fine, then. I can take you home, but you have to wait until I'm done closing."

"Does that mean I can have another drink?" You ask slyly, inching so close your gut digs into the bar in question. Hanta gives you a look of near-disgust.

"No."

You pout, though you don't move away. He's close enough that he's starting to blur but not aggressively close. You notice the faint smattering of freckles against his cheeks, eyes flickering to Hanta's lips as a pink tongue darts to gloss them over.

"You're not bad up close, you know," you breathe, running a finger up the visible vein up his arm. Hanta's eyes dilate but he moves away, and you huff, returning to your seat with a pout at the brush-off.

"You're no fun," you grumble, tucking your hands under your chin. Hanta goes back to wiping down the bar with a chuckle.

"It's against policy," is all he grunts. You roll your eyes.

"Yeah well, your policy fucking sucks," your tongue curls to spit vitriol in a way you didn't even know you could. Hanta's eyebrows raise in amusement at your petulance. "And what's the fucking policy? Don't get laid?"

"No, it's don't take advantage of tipsy customers," he nearly barks with a snort.

"I'm barely tipsy," you offer. Hanta freezes to look you up and down.

"...Sure." You growl.

"I'm not!"

"Well. This is me."

Hanta cocks an eyebrow and the car rumbles to a stop with a jingle of his key in the ignition. His eyes follow yours to the front door. The car ride was pleasantly silent—pleasantly, excluding the weighty air, you couldn't cut with a steak knife that forces your thighs to rub together.

"This is you?"

"Yup."

You pop the 'p' and make no move to get out; he doesn't unlock the door.

"It's a nice place."

"Thanks," you smile, and you have half a mind to invite him inside. You don't, though—you shouldn't. Because what do you think will happen?

"Um...so I guess this is goodbye. I guess." His fingers drum against the leather of his steering wheel, and your eyes drift to his hands.

"Yeah," you eye the purse sat in your lap. "Yeah, right."

He unlocks the door and your grip around your purse tightens as you reach for the door handle. "Thanks, agai—"

"Uh, hold on, actually."

The doors lock. You fight a smile.

And he looks conflicted—drumming fingers changing from a random tap to an anxious beat, teeth digging into the inside of his cheek, and eyes darting everywhere but at you. You sit your elbows on the armrest console.

"Yes?"

"Um, okay," he huffs through his nose, dimples popping in a borderline acrid grin. "What if—what if I wanted to break the policy?"

You feign a gasp, placing a dramatic hand over your heart in sheer horror. "What? Not the policy!"

"Yeah, yeah okay," Hanta snorts, grabbing you by the back of the neck and grinning when you nearly squeal. "C'mere—I want to kiss you."

And, well. Who are you to deny such an offer?

Hanta tastes like gin. You wonder if he's allowed to drink on the job, but it's only a fleeting thought because he's tilting his head and moaning into your mouth, and you find yourself pushing back eagerly.

He's sinfully good with his lips, tongue, whatever—or maybe it's the alcohol. But either way, his lips are plush enough to enjoy but firm enough to dominate, and you melt into the seat as he pulls away and rasps:

"How're you feeling, Pretty?"

Is it just hot in here, or is it just you?

"Um," you flush in seeing his smug grin while he patiently waits for your answer, and it's aggravating. "Good—I'm feeling good."

The noirette hums, eyes dropping to your lips.

"Want to try again?"

You nod, "Yes please."

Hanta's chest rumbles and he's grinning against your lips. "Saying please already? Good girl."

When he presses his lips to yours again, it's with much more weight than the first kiss, and it nearly knocks you into the window. He trails hot kisses down the column of your neck, making you hiss when he bites right under your ear.

The next thing you know, Hanta's unbuckling his seatbelt and then yours, before huffing against your lips: "Backseat."

The moment you two squeeze between both seats, Hanta's pulling you into his lap, his hands taking possession of your waist as if they've always belonged there. As he sucks hickeys into your collarbone, he lifts an eyebrow in question as he slides his hands to the zipper of your dress. "Can I?"

You bite your lip and nod, hips rolling slowly. Hanta hisses and tightens his grip around your waist as he slowly pulls down the zipper, the sound of sliding metal bouncing off the doors of the heated car.

"Just as perfect as I thought they'd be," He groans, chuckling slightly when you berate him for being a pervert—not as if it matters now, with the top of your dress sliding down your arms and under your bra. His hips flex as yours pick up the pace, hiding a smile at the feeling of his hard cock growing against your inner thigh. Hanta shucks your dress to your waist with two big hands, keeping them at your ribs.

"Fuck—keep grinding on me, just like that baby," his eyes drop to watch your hips roll before he's recklessly shoving your bra straps down your shoulders. "You know, I always wondered how you dealt with those assholes. I wouldn't if you were mine."

"Is this your cheesy way of asking me out?" You huff a giggle, and Hanta's dimples pop.

"If you'll take it."

"Make me cum, first," you offer, hips stuttering when he tweaks a nipple. "And then take me on a date."

Hanta snorts, lips returning to your neck. "Aye aye, Cap'n."

You slap him across the chest and Hanta takes the brunt of it with a smile, slowly sliding a hand up your inner thigh that you didn't feel until right now.

He thumbs the hem of your panties in question. You nod without and he bites a lip as he pulls the flimsy thing to the side and slides a calloused finger into your throbbing cunt.

"So fucking wet, holy shit," he breathes against your neck. You rest a hand on the fogging window with a sigh, and pumps his finger slowly—whether it's to get you used to the feeling or to tease, you aren't quite sure.

"You can add another."

"I—" Hanta shudders, nails digging into the meat of your hips. "Okay. Yeah, okay."

As he pushes a second finger in with the first, you two hiss in unison, nails digging hot red lines into his muscled shoulders. Your walls bend around him easily, squeezing his digits with such a firmness it has the poor guy fantasizing what you'll feel like wrapped around his cock. He whimpers behind a bitten lip at the thought, thumb ghosting your clit with a determination to make you feel good.

"You're taking my fingers so well, Baby," he says, groaning when your hips gain a life of their own. Hanta wheezes a laugh at your desperation, strung tight from arousal. "What? Need me to go faster?"

You nod your head, whimpering a meek yes that would be embarrassing if you weren't so worked up. Hanta shakes his head with a low chuckle.

"Ask nicely, Pretty."

"Please!" You practically fling your upper body over his, "I wan—I nee—"

"What's that, my needy baby?" Hanta purrs behind a bitten lip, struggling to keep your hips from bucking because you just look so good. You know his hand has got to be cramping from the angle he fingers you at, but you figure that it doesn't matter—especially when he adds a third, to your pleasant surprise.

"Fuck!" You keen, body curling along with his fingers. Hanta groans as you contract around him and digs his teeth into the junction of your neck, making you gasp along with the painful pleasure.

"You need to fuck me like, right now," you pant, and it's clear you don't have to tell the noirette twice—his slick-soaked fingers rocket to his fly, pulling his cock out with suck a speed it would be worrying if you weren't equally desperate.

"Yes Ma'am," he smiles and you snort, rolling your eyes—though the light mood dies once the head of his cock kisses your entrance. Suddenly, you're not floating anymore but sat in Hanta's heated lap, making all of this feel so much more real—the fogged windows, the skin on skin, the heavy petting. You can't believe you've waited this long, but at the same time, surprised this didn't happen sooner.

"Ready?" You ask, knees digging into leather as you straddle his lap. Hanta's chest shudders.

"Ready when you are."

You roll your eyes. What a gentleman.

With that, you press against him with a little more insistence and he pops the head of his cock in with a huff, muscled chest shuddering as you force yourself down until you hit the base.

"Shit," Hanta wheezes, grip tightening around your waist. He keeps you there—forces your lungs to work hard around his cock—and you quiver around him like a leaf in the wind.

"Look at you," Hanta coos like you're the cutest fucking thing he's ever seen. "Shaking on my cock. I fill you up that well, Baby?"

"Y-Yeah, I—" your throat contracts as you shift, inevitably nestling him deeper and pushing a quiet eep from your throat. It's clear Hanta's getting impatient, hips wiggling as a hot hand reaches for your hands to pin them behind your back. As he holds you at a 45-degree angle, to the point where you're slumped against the seat in front of you, the hand on your waist lifts before dropping you down again.

"Fuck!" You scream, thighs flexing as his hips pick up the pace fairly quickly. The noirette chuckles, tongue peeking in concentration as sweat starts to soak his hair to his forehead.

"Sorry," he pants, though he doesn't really sound that sorry, eyes fixated on where you're connected. "Did you say something? Can't really hear you over all the moaning."

You snarl at that, though it's hard to when he holds you at such an angle. You have half a mind to shut the fuck up, acknowledging that technically, you're outside—but another part of you thinks fuck it, you're forced to hear your neighbors go at it like bunnies at least once a week. They can suffer this one time, right?

"Shit—squeezing me so tight," Hanta grunts under his breath, eyebrows folding in ecstasy. "You trying to make me cum early, sweetheart?"

You whimper and shake your head as Hanta chuckles at how useless you are, as limp as a ragdoll while you take all of him so well. So, so well.

His thumb returns to your clit, and you both moan—you from the stimulation, he when you tighten around him. Hanta adjusts so you're properly sat in his lap again, his hot skin pressed to yours before his palm cracks against your ass with the one order, "Ride it."

Your thighs quiver pathetically as you lift yourself up on his cock, your throat tightening in a muffled squeal when his head rams into your cervix. You've never considered yourself to be a screamer but you suppose there are exceptions, and you consider getting properly fucked by your bartender in a bartender's backseat is a better excuse than any.

"Fuck—fuck just like that, fucking take it," Hanta's grunts are only semi-coherent as his hips buck in time with yours, the flush on his face growing down to his neck with the tight grip on your waist. There isn't much you can do but take it—and the fact that he gives you no wiggle room to squirm away gets you more excited than you feel it should.

"Where—" he pants, the car rocking with your movement as he latches a hand onto the back of the driver's seat. "W-where do you want me to...?"

"Inside," you whimper without a second thought. "I-Inside, please I nee—"

"I gotcha," Hanta's movements slow, opting for a smoother glide instead, and you find that the change in pace pushes you closer to the edge—and as does the thumb on your clit, which is slowly picking up the pace. "You gonna cum, Baby?"

You nod, but it earns you a spank on the ass, "Words, pretty girl."

"Y-Yeah, just—" He rolls your hips—and hard—and that final grind sends you flying off the edge, eyes skewing as you gasp his name. Hanta groans at the sight of you coming undone—the sight of you coming undone for him—and that's enough to make him curse under his breath before his hips stutter twice, and he's filling you with a groan.

"C'mere," he says, and you're not even sure he's done coming as he scrambles to pull you forward via your condensed top (which is between your upper and lower half) to pull you into a spit fueled kiss. It's messy and you're both exhausted, all tongue and spit, but it gets your blood boiling nevertheless. You're the first to pull away.

"Wanna come in for a drink?" You ask, knowing it's an invitation to come clean up and knock the fuck out together. Luckily, Hanta gets the memo, with his flushed face and pierced eyebrow.

"I thought you'd never ask."

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Prologue}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both Shelby and I’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

We hope you all enjoy. :)

Cassian knew very little about Nesta Archeron, but he knew one thing for certain: she was hot as hell.

He had sworn he’d never go on another blind date, but Rhysand had begged, over and over again, for him to go out with the eldest sister of his girlfriend. So, to shut his brother up, Cassian agreed.

Reluctantly, but nonetheless. 

He took a quick shower where he bathed himself in a new bottle of body wash before stepping out and towel-drying his hair. Considering Nesta was Feyre’s sister, he felt the need to make a good first impression, although he wasn’t sure what a good impression was to Nesta Archeron.

He was hoping he was sufficient enough.

He dressed in his usual attire of jeans and old boots, but decided to wear a button up for once, rather than one of his go-to t-shirts. Still, he pulled on his leather jacket and grabbed his keys before hurrying out the door.

He typed the address Rhys had texted him into his gps, seeing the drive was going to take him nearly twenty minutes longer than he’d anticipated, thanks to an accident on the interstate.

He swore under his breath, throwing his truck into motion. He hurried across town and parked in front of Nesta’s townhouse, fifteen minutes later than he was supposed to. Flipping down his sun visor, Cassian ran a quick hand through his loose hair and was heading up to the front door, knocking twice.

Or he would have, if the door wasn’t pulled open the second his fist made contact with it.

Suddenly, in his jeans and leather jacket, he felt extremely underdressed.

Nesta Archeron wore a beautifully fitted dark blue dress that fell only a couple inches above her knees. She wore heels, and her hair was curled. A silver clutch was gripped tightly in her hand.

She eyed Cassian, from the top of his head to his toes. For once, even though he was half a foot taller than she, even in heels, Cassian felt smaller than shit.

“Hey,” he said, at last, once the silence became unbearably awkward.

“You’re Cassian?” she asked. 

“Were you expecting someone else?” he shot back.

Nesta’s lips thinned. “You’re late,” she said, instead. 

“At least I came,” he grinned. “Hungry?”

Nesta took a deep breath as she lifted her chin. “I suppose so.”

“Good,” he said, gesturing toward his running truck. “Let’s go. I made reservations.”

She locked her door and followed him down the sidewalk. “Are we going to be late for those, too?”

Cassian elected not to answer her, pausing at the passenger door and opening it for her. He let out a sigh as he rounded the truck to his own seat.

Something told him this was going to be a long night.

He was absolutely right.

Not a single word was said on the way to the restaurant across town, and, by some grace of the Cauldron, they made it on time for their reservations.

They were set at a table by the entrance quickly, and once their server arrived, Nesta ordered a glass of wine, while Cassian stuck with his usual beer.

“So,” Cassian began, clearing his throat as they waited for their drinks to arrive. “What should I know about you, Nesta?”

“That’s it?” she asked, brow raised. “That’s the question you’ll begin with?”

Cassian’s head fell to the side. “What question should I have gone with?”

Nesta took a moment to look around the bustling restaurant. “Well, you’ve yet to tell me how beautiful I look, or ask me how I’m doing tonight.”

Cassian couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fine. You look nice. How are you?”

Nesta snorted. “Well, I waited twenty minutes for my date, thinking he wasn’t coming. Other than that, fine, I guess.” 

“You don’t do this often, do you?” Cassian asked. There was nothing accusatory in his tone, just simple curiosity.

“Do what?” Nesta asked, the words nearly clipped.

“Date,” Cassian replied, simply. “Go out with someone for the first time.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No. I don’t particularly have a lot of free time to waste.”

Cassian’s eyebrows rose at her choice of words. “You don’t have to be here, you know?”

The server quietly returned to the table, setting their drinks down, before hurrying away, sensing the tension between the two. Nesta’s eyes didn’t leave him the whole time. She picked up her wine glass, taking a long drink, before she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you clearly would rather be anywhere but here,” Cassian replied, leaning back in his seat. “I’d hate to waste your time.”

She was about to reply when a voice came from their left.

“Cassian?”

He looked over his shoulder to find an old friend - a term that he used very, very loosely. 

Tanwyn and he had a very complicated relationship. They were friends - at least, they had been at one time. It had all become very complicated the first time he had invited her into his bed.

And the second time.

And the third.

And every time after that.

He smiled at her, almost hesitantly. “Hey, Tan. What are you doing here?”

“Here with some friends,” she grinned, approaching their table. “And you?”

“Here with…” Cassian’s voice trailed off as he looked across the table. “This is Nesta Archeron. Nesta, this is Tanwyn-.”

“Nice to meet you,” Nesta said, words clipped. “If you’ll excuse us, we’re on a date.”

She blinked, taken aback at Nesta’s cold greeting. “Right… Sorry to interrupt. I’ll see you later, Cass.” She nodded to Nesta. “Nice to meet you.”

She was gone before Cassian could say another word, and he looked at Nesta incredulously.

She raised her glass before putting it to her lips. “So when is the last time you slept with her?”

Cassian was stunned, shaking his head. “She’s a friend, there was no reason to be rude.”

“My question still stands.” Nesta folded her hands on the table, her eyes on Cassian’s.

“How do you even know-? What are you, a psychologist?”

“No, I’m a chef,” she said, glaring at him. “But you show everything on that pretty little face of yours. It was easy to read.”

He closed his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. “We just need to…start over. This is all going wrong.”

Nesta stayed quiet before finally nodding. “Fine.”

The server picked that time to return, the two of them ordering their food, and the awkward first date conversation began again.

“I have to be honest,” Cassian began. “I’m not sure where to even begin.”

“Your name would be fine,” Nesta said, sipping from her glass.

Cassian watched her for a moment to make sure she was serious before saying, “Cassian Nazari. Childhood friend of Rhys’.”

“And your occupation?” she asked, in all seriousness. 

“I’m a bartender,” Cassian said.

Nesta stared at him for a moment before asking, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously, and before you make any judgements, bartenders make damn good money,” Cassian said.

“Interesting,” Nesta said, watching him intently. 

“Right,” Cassian muttered. “Now, will you give me some insight into you or should I beg?”

Nesta rolled her eyes before saying, “I’m Nesta. And, yes, lie I said, I’m a chef. I’ve got a little restaurant in the Square”

“That sounds…interesting,” he said, repeating her words. “And your Feyre’s sister?”

“I am,” she said, pausing as the server brought out salads and she began to eat hers, without any dressing.

Cassian, on the other hand, nearly drowned his in ranch dressing. He watched as she ate her plain lettuce. “That looks…boring.”

“Salad dressing is fattening. It negates all of the goodness of the salad.” She took another bite, chewing and looking at him, then his salad swimming in ranch. “You look like you take care of yourself, I’m surprised you don’t watch what you eat as well.”

He scoffed. “I work out, but I’m not going to be miserable and eat rabbit food.” He gestured to the bowl in front of her.

She rolled her eyes, but continued to eat her rabbit food.

Silence grew between them but neither of them attempted to break it. It wasn’t until their main courses arrived that Cassian nodded toward the cursive ink on the inside of her wrist. 

“You have a tattoo,” he said.

She eyed the ink that swirled around his arms, up beneath his rolled up sleeves. “I have a few,” she confessed. 

“What are they?” he asked, starting to cut up his steak.

She took a bite of her salmon, chewing it slowly before deflecting his question with one of her own, “What are yours?”

Cassian glanced down at the swirls and marks of black ink that covered his forearms. “They’re Illyrian tribal marks. They all mean something different, but I would be lying if I told you I knew what every one of them meant.” 

Nesta snorted. “Then why have them?”

Cassian met her eyes. “My mother was Illyrian. I grew up in Illyria, with her tribe.” 

It seems the answer nearly took her back, but she ended up nodding, curtly. “How is your steak?”

“Too done,” he said, shrugging as he took a bite. “I like my meat red.” Her nose crinkled slightly. He asked, “What?”

Nesta shrugged. “I don’t eat meat.”

He blinked and watched as she took another bite of salmon. “You’re…eating fish.”

An eye roll was her reply. “I don’t eat red meat,” she clarified.

“So you’re a vegetarian?” He asked.

“No, I just don’t like to eat red meat. Chicken, pork, fish,” she gestured to her plate. “I like that. But I just prefer not to eat red meat.”

“Hmm.” It was more of a non-answer than anything, but before she could say anything, a man appeared, standing next to their table. Cassian glanced up at him. “Can we help you?”

He wasn’t looking at him though. He was looking at Nesta, who was pointedly not looking at him.

“What are you doing, Nes?”

She took a drink of her wine, draining the glass. “This doesn’t concern you, Tom.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “We take a break and less than a month later, you’re on a date?”

She finally looked at him. “We’re not on a break, I broke up with you.”

Cassian cleared his throat. “Is this where all exes gather?” He looked around again to see if he saw Tanwyn, but she was gone.

“Leave,” Nesta said, plainly. “I can’t enjoy my dinner with you standing over me like the controlling bastard you were in our relationship.”

Cassian’s lips nearly fell open.

The woman had balls.

He respected that.

“I hate to break up this little reunion, but this is awkward as hell,” Cassian muttered, popping a spoonful of garlic mashed potatoes into his mouth. 

“This doesn’t concern you,” Tomas said, looking to Cassian, using Nesta’s own words.

Cassian chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll give you two choices here, Tom. Either I call someone to take your ass away from our table or I make you leave, myself.”

“Tough guy, huh?” Tomas asked, putting a hand on Nesta’s shoulder.

Nesta brushed his hand off the second it made contact with her skin. “This is ridiculous. I’m calling over the server. We’re leaving.”

Cassian was inclined to agree. This date had been a catastrophe so far, but he was hopeful that maybe if she invited him in, he could salvage it.

Tomas seemed to take the hint, looking back to Nesta. “I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll talk about this entire situation then.”

She flagged down the server, but said to Tomas, “Don’t waste your time or mine.”

He walked away, muttering something under his breath, but the server returned and after a quick explanation from Nesta, she was off to get their check.

“Well, that was awkward,” Cassian said, clearing his throat, taking a drink of his beer, planning to finish it off.

“No more awkward than running into your fuck buddy,” she replied, pulling her lipstick out of her purse to re-apply it.

Cassian managed to swallow the mouthful of beer before he spewed it all over her. He coughed quietly. “You don’t tiptoe around anything, do you?”

Her answer was curt. “No.”

The server returned, standing the check book on the edge of the table, and Cassian elected to let the conversation drop at that. He reached into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

And froze.

It wasn’t there.

He checked every other pocket he had on him.

Nothing.

“Fuck,” he breathed, patting himself down.

Nesta arched a brow. “Issues?”

“I have to run out to the truck,” Cassian said, quietly. “I can’t seem to find my wallet.”

Nesta froze from where she sat behind her half-eaten salmon. “You forgot your wallet?”

“It’s probably in the truck-.”

“I didn’t see it in the truck-.”

“Then the glove box, maybe,” Cassian snapped. “Just, give me a minute.”

“Don’t bother,” Nesta bit, reaching across the table to grab the check.

Cassian got to it first and held it outside of her reach. “I can pay for it. I took you out, I’m paying.”

Nesta scoffed. “Spare me your holier than thou male bravado.” 

Cassian stood. “I just need to run out to my truck.”

She was on her feet, snatching the check book from him and looking at the total. Without another word, she reached into purse and laid down a series of bills, before closing it and heading for the door.

Sighing, Cassian followed her, his cheeks heating. Never had he let a woman pay for his dinner, and he’d sure as hell never let her pay for the first date.

He didn’t say a word as he unlocked her door, opening it, and closing it after she’d climbed in. He rounded to his own door, immediately looking around the cab for his wallet. It was nowhere to be seen. He reached across, opening the glovebox, pulling a few things out.

His wallet wasn’t one of them, but Nesta didn’t fail to notice the gold foil wrappers. And how many he had. She scoffed, buckling her seatbelt and looking out the window.

“I’ll pay you back,” he said, after he’d started the truck and had pulled onto the main road.

“No need,” she snapped, staring out the passenger side window. “Dropping me off and leaving me the hell alone will do.”

The words were barely audible. She spoke the words under her breath. And yet, Cassian felt them like a slap in the face. 

He was mortified.

He was at a loss for words.

He just wanted to go home.

He also wanted to make a move on Nesta Archeron.

There was something about the head-strong, independent woman that made Cassian swoon.

Not that it stopped the car ride back to her home any less silent and awkward.

“You’re Feyre’s sister,” Cassian said, randomly.

Nesta blinked, looking toward him. “Yeah. Is there something wrong with that?”

“No,” Cassian said quickly. “It’s just that, you’re so…” Different. Cruel. Different. Opposite. Different. Vindictive. Different. “Not the same,” Cassian finished, at last.

“I am my own person,” she snapped, as he stopped in front of her townhouse.

“I know you are, just-.” He sighed, turning to look at her. “This has been a mess from the start. Can I come in? I’d like some time for us to talk, just the two of us. No ex’s, no servers, no interruptions. I just want to get to know you.”

She laughed once.

The sound infuriated him.

“You mean you want to fuck me,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. He was, once again, caught off guard by how blunt she was. She pulled open his glovebox and removed the strip of condoms, holding them up. “Forgot your wallet, but made sure you didn’t forget these.”

Cassian slowly looked at her. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” she repeated. “What are you, a child?”

Cassian couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve tried to be the perfect gentleman tonight, alright? Yeah, I forgot my wallet, but-.”

“And we also ran into your fuck buddy, don’t forget about that,” Nesta said, with a vindictive grin. She opened the door, grabbed her purse, and hopped out.

Cassian was close behind her, following her up her walkway. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Nesta spun around. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she laughed, humorlessly. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Cassian asked, as she approached her front door.

“Yet you’re still following me to my door,” she said, not looking back at him. She unlocked the door, opening it and stepping inside. Turning back to him, she held the door in one hand, the hand holding her purse propped on her hip. “Thank you for a truly unforgettable evening, Cassian, but I don’t think this is going to work out.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, letting his gaze slowly drag from her head to her toes and back up again. He watched as her cheeks heated, anger lighting up her eyes. “Yeah, I think you’re right. You’re too stuck up for your own good. Too bad.”

She groaned before slamming the door in his face, praying she’d never have to see Cassian Nazari again.

[samstree]

for the drabble thing: “you weren’t there”

maybe post mountain geraskier? i’m in an angsty mood rn but whatever you wanna write will be good :)

Creatures of the Night (2)

It's the night of Jaskier and Valdo's wedding. Geralt needs to do something.

(endgame geraskier, background valdo/jaskier, angst, infidelity)

Previous | AO3

The Oxenfurt Observatory might just be the grandest building in Redania.

The great hall is decorated with countless flowers and candles, giving the ancient walls a soft glow. Through the tall glass ceiling, stars are shining in the clear night sky, the perfect weather for a wedding.

It must be Jaskier’s idea, to be handfasted at midnight, to have his guests slow-dance under the moon and the stars until dawn breaks. Their new life will begin when the candles burn out and the first ray of light spills into the room.

If only there’s a competition for the biggest romantic on the continent. Jaskier could win without breaking a sweat.

The room is being filled up with guests—mostly bards and professors, old schoolmates of the two grooms. After all, both Valdo and Jaskier are Oxenfurt’s children, which means everyone is dressed in the most colorful clothes one could imagine. In another word, the room is being filled up with Jaskiers, and it’s getting loud.

It’s more difficult to locate the bard himself through the din of the room, but Geralt hears him, unmistakably. Jaskier’s heartbeat approaches the Observatory, thrumming with nervousness.

No more nervous than Geralt.

He breathes in, and exits the room in a few strides. And there Jaskier is, surrounded by pale moonlight, with jasmine flowers braided into his hair and pure joy painted across his cheeks. He seems to be murmuring a private joke to Essi, and they both burst into strings of giggles.

Geralt almost backs out.

“Geralt!” Jaskier notices him. “You came! I was worried for a moment.”

“Of course.” Geralt gestures to the outfit he helped pick out. “You look nice.”

“Thank you. Now, Poppet, can you give us a few moments?” Jaskier sends Essi inside with the sweetest smile. She shoulders past Geralt a little too curtly. There’s always an air of wariness whenever Essi regards Geralt, an untrusting side-eye here and there.

“Don’t mind her.” Jaskier waves when they are left alone. “Little Eye is a tad too protective. She’ll get over it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt swallows hard. “Can we find somewhere more private? I want to talk to you.”

Jaskier blinks, but leads them away anyway until they are by the side of the road, the celebrating crowd and the orange glow of candlelight in the distance.

“Here to make sure I end up someone else’s problem, aren’t you? Don’t worry, in about half an hour, I will be legally required to only bother Valdo for the rest of eternity.” Jaskier nudges Geralt in the shoulder, a jasmine slipping by his ear.

Geralt rights it without thinking, his fingers trembling.

Gods, he can’t say it. He can’t. Jaskier is so happy and Geralt will only ruin their friendship. His second chance is too precious to be risked—

“No, actually,” Geralt heaves out a breath, his heart pounding. “The opposite."

Jaskier snorts, “And, my dear witcher, what is the opposite?”

Here it goes.

“I am in love with you.”

The words sink into the silence. Geralt’s world narrows down to the steady rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest and the little hitch in his breathing. In the darkness of the night, Jaskier’s eyes stay in the shadows, his emotions obscured.

“No, you are not.” When he finally answers, it comes out in a snort. “Ha! A good one, Geralt! And they say witchers don’t have a sense of humor, idiots!”

Jaskier lets out another dry laugh, although the waver in his voice betrays everything.

“I am,” Geralt stresses again, “in love with you, Jaskier.”

Jaskier is staring, the upturn of his lips freezing into shock, the rise and fall of his chest picking up into a frenzy and suddenly he’s breathing too fast. “You can’t. You just can’t…” Air seems to trap in his lungs and a salty tang of tears hits Geralt full-force.

“I wish I couldn’t love, like what they say, but Jaskier, I can and I do—”

“You can’t do this to me!” Jaskier shouts, crying openly. “No, no! You don’t get to tell me this now! We had twenty years…”

Geralt wants more than anything in the world to pull Jaskier into his arms and wipe away the tears, but the space between them is too great. “I didn’t know for twenty years, Jask. Forgive me. It was only after the mountain that I learned how important you were to me. I couldn’t go on like this—”

“The mountain?” Jaskier chokes out a whimper. “You realized after the mountain? You mean when I bared my heart to you and you stomped on it like it was nothing?”

Geralt shakes his head, the guilt constricting his chest. “I’m sorry. For all the pain I caused you.”

“For months I thought I was but a mistake to you, that you hated me for two decades and couldn’t wait to cast me aside like dirt stuck on your shoes. Do you even know… Geralt, do you have an ounce of idea what I went through?”

Jaskier sways and Geralt catches him in his arms, placing his head on his shoulders and feeling the uncontrollable shakes running down Jaskier’s spine. The sight of Jaskier hurt because of him, again, pains Geralt more than any monster’s claws or talons.

“I love you, Jaskier,” he vows. “You were never nothing to me. You are everything. I was an idiot. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier struggles and swats at his shoulders and Geralt takes it all the while murmuring more sweet nothings into his ear. Finally, when Jaskier calms down, it’s with another whimper. “You are an idiot.”

“I am.” Geralt cradles the nape of Jaskier’s neck, running his thumb in circles, soothing the last of the trembling away. “Just one word from you, Jask, I can take you away. You don’t have to marry him. Just give me the word and I’m yours. Gods, I’ve waited for so long for this day. At last, I’m sure of my heart, just as I’m sure of yours.”

He buries into Jaskier’s hair and inhales the grief and the flowers, and something that is distinctly Jaskier, expecting a whispered plea. Just one word from Jaskier and they can start their new life together.

What he doesn’t expect is the way Jaskier goes stiff in his arms and the hand that pushes him away.

The soft moonlight catches a glint in Jaskier’s eyes, and it speaks of determination. “Valdo,” he says, as if in a dream.

“You don’t have to marry him. We can lea—”

“Valdo will be here soon.” Jaskier sniffles and wipes at his tears frantically. His whole face is puffy from crying and there’s no way he can hide it. “It’s almost midnight.”

Geralt’s world comes to a stop.

“What?”

“Get inside, and don’t say anything about this.”

“I don’t understand. Jask, you don’t need to go through this anymore. I’ll give you anything you ask. Just say the words, please,” he begs for the first time in a century, catching Jaskier’s hand.

“I am saying it. Get inside. Sit in the back row and don’t speak to me. Valdo might be able to tell.” With a few deep breaths, Jaskier school his features back to neutral. “Only the gods know how he can read me like an open book.”

Geralt’s blood runs cold. “Do you love him?”

The anguish by the corner of Jaskier’s lips says everything. It remains as he smiles a crooked smile. “He loves me. Oh, Geralt, he loves me. I can’t hurt him like this.”

“I thought,” Geralt looks down in shame. “I thought I knew your heart.”

“I thought I did too.”

“Then why?”

“You weren’t there,” Jaskier shrugs like it’s the easiest explanation. “He was.”

Despite every cell in Geralt’s body screaming against it, he nods and lets go of Jaskier’s hand, allowing his limp fingers to slip from his grasp at last.

Jaskier has asked it of him after all.

He doesn’t know how he got back into the crowd, the warm light only a blur in his vision. Another group is stopping near the hall, among them is the other groom-to-be. Valdo’s worried voice when he sees Jaskier is another blow to Geralt’s chest.

“Oh, Julian, are you crying?”

“Just…too happy.”

There’s the sound of kissing, and Geralt can’t tune it out. He laughs at himself for the masochistic tendencies, but maybe he deserves the torture.

“No more tears. Let’s get married, my love.”

The guests settle, and the music begins.

The happy couple walks towards the altar in the witness of family and friends, and Geralt watches every moment of it.

If the smile on Jaskier’s face is a bit strained as the priest ties the ribbon, no one seems to notice.

---

A big thanks to anon for the prompt! I asked for some one-word or one-sentence prompts and the next thing I knew they were connecting into a whole story.

Each chapter of this story will be based on a prompt, so send in one if you want to steer it in certain directions ;)

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[ateezinmymind]

my brother’s best friend (part 3)

word count: 4k

fluff, angst (tw: mentions of abuse)

(part 2) (series masterlist)

tag list: @brie02 @a-soft-hornytiny @reeateez @multidreams-and-desires @woowommy @joongiebug @dreamyyang @fag0thh @renjunes @jung-wooyoungie @springbreeze96 @lizsvcks @yeosangmystar

the silencing aura between the two of you would seem unbearable to sit through- if it were in any other condition. the drizzle misting your clothes, skin and hair along with the distinct shatter of the different groups of people's conversation down the dock was the only thing you could physically understand and sense.

“y/n” wooyoung starts, the look in his eyes desperate for something you couldn’t make out at the moment, seeing him after such intense emotions about seonghwa, and having the one boy that you wanted to consolidate your heart in front of you made your tears break through. releasing a small whimper, seeing the way wooyoung stiffens himself and brings his hand to cover his busted lip. he calls your name once again a bit louder, stepping to the bench —sliding himself to your side.

you were flooding with so many emotions, those of confusion and guilt

“wooyoung.. i-“ you choke out as he instinctively pulls you into his chest. heaving out, and feeling his body shake as he too releases a cry.

“y/n, why..?” he says quietly in your ear “why are y-you here?”

“I needed to get away from h-him” you mumble into his damp shirt clutching onto him close, smelling the scent of fresh spring and comfort from his body- eases you into a sort of relaxation

the grip on your waist tightens when he hears that seonghwa was troubling you, nuzzling into his neck until all the sudden wooyoung is standing. one of his hands still remains along your side as he bends over to look into your puffy eyes, moving stray hairs out of the way and behind your ear- wooyoung puts his forehead against your own.

“do you want to walk with me?” he speaks softly, swallowing hard when you give him a faint smile- accented with a beautiful blush along with the few tear streams. your eyes searching in his, heads touching, the two of you so close you feel the warmth of his breath against your face.

sliding your head away from his, you stand up straight into his arms again- this time giving him a proper hug. arms wrapped tightly around his torso as wooyoung's hands slide from your waist to your lower back, bringing you closer against his body.

you didn't realize how much affection you’re starved of, and how long you've actually been waiting to fully embrace wooyoung again.

“y-yeah, that'd be nice” you reply into his chest not wanting this moment to end so soon

even though the terms of you two running into each other was on the lower side, it felt so good to have a face you knew that cared for you- a boy who was respectful and sweet to you.

“c’mon pumpkin” wooyoung chirps up, pulling away

you slightly blush from the nickname, it was cute.. and sweet.. just like him.

though something was definitely up, hence the way his lip was busted and the way undertones of purple were rising along his jaw

all of this, just as you were about to walk made you stop in your tracks. pulling wooyoung's arm so he turns around, you slide your hand to gently trace your fingers over his chin. feeling his smooth skin, then to his lip, softly running your thumb over the plump and red mound.

doing this causes the male to suck in a breath, the way your fingers delivered such delicacy to his face made his heart pull. the look in your eyes and how your eyebrows furrowed together looking at his face- made him a bit more nervous than he would like

“will you please tell me what happened?” you whisper, leaning in slightly as your hand comes behind his neck pulling him down to his ear

“pretty please woo woo?”

you pout sadly when he rips away from you, and watch him start to turn towards the end of the dock.

you just stand there shocked that he just started leaving, feeling your face burn with embarrassment you huff out with guilt. did you say something offensive? did you push the limit to your boundaries?

“y/n! are you coming?” wooyoung breaks you from your mind running thoughts

standing there with a hand rubbing the back of his neck as he balances on the ends on his feet, your heart tugs slightly.

“i said i wanted to walk with you”

the rain settled down as the two of you got back to the sidewalk, up away from the beach. the sky just beginning to turn dark, the lights lit along the railing of the dock twinkling in the distance when you look back.

you and wooyoung walking side by side, shoulders touching each other slightly every so often- making him bring space between (it would seem as from shyness?). neither of you had spoke a word yet, the tension heavily overwhelming the atmosphere

the way the silence just rested over, made you and your thoughts come through. you were a bit cold, your clothes although dry from the previous precipitation- your internal warmth escaped, you were emotional, you were confused-

peeking a glance over to wooyoung, the view of him brings a small smile to your mouth. his hair curling to his eyes, wet and dark. he was quite handsome like that actually.

you shouldn’t even have that on your mind right now, because there’s much more needed to be tended to- according to what happened to his sweet face.

but you forget how long you’ve stared for, and when wooyoung locks his gaze upon yours, you blush and stutter out an apology

“a-ah sorry-“

your mind feeling so many uncalled for nerves, why was your body reacting this way? this is wooyoung here, your brother's best friend- and just a certain boy who deserves so much.. a boy you've come to be very fond of-

“so y/n,” he pipes out while playing with his fingers, “do you want to talk about it?”

“uhh.. about..”

“him.” he replies back curtly “did he hurt you?”

the mere thought that he had hurt or upset you somehow made wooyoung feel so much inner rage. how did he let it happen? wooyoung knew seonghwa’s intentions, he knew that the certain male had a thing for younger girls in school. how he would treat them all high and mighty just for his pleasure, fuck- and he had got to you.

“well, no- not exactly” you say looking down at your pacing feet, “i stopped him before-“

“i knew it” he blurts out, interrupting you in the process “i knew he had some plan going on- why the fuck was he here anyway? there’s no other thing for seonghwa to come back here, why else would he have come”

the way he kept rambling about it made you start getting a little agitated and you weren’t even really sure why you felt so much right before you snapped.

“maybe he wanted to hang out with me-?! maybe wondered how i’m doing for a change!” you stare back at wooyoung, stopping your movements- feeling your tears come back as you try and finish your outrageous sentence, “m-maybe he came back because missed me..”

watching the switch in your emotions flip and turn into someone he’s never seen before made wooyoung call out to you again ever so softly. cupping your cheek as he furrows his brows together and searches into your glazed and fire filled eyes

“y/n..”

“i don’t know why… maybe i’d have someone close like my brother to.. i just” you ramble on then- abruptly pause and look down to the concrete discretely “i miss him-”

“i miss yeosang, wooyoung i don’t know what i was thinking, but when i saw hwa i thought things would be better.” taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes once more, “maybe he’d make me feel different..”

all this rush of emotions waving and thrashing into you made you blind to what wooyoung was going through, and when the silence stretched longer and the more you two just held your gaze- regret settled in your mind

“i’m sorry-“ you squeak out embarrassed, making your body move forward quickly ahead of him.

“this is so selfish of me woo- i’m so sorry”

pretending you don’t hear him call out after you walking away, wooyoung slowly jogs after you

your face is probably a sight to see with tear stained cheeks, puffy eyes and a bright blush.

it’s been awhile since someone had seen you cry, you always made sure to make it that way too. your mom didn’t need another reason to worry or feel stressed, and you find it awkward spilling your innermost emotions. but it was different right now- and you weren’t even sure as to why. maybe it really was because wooyoung had been a kind face and heart to you since the day you met. maybe it was because this was the first time to show him a different side of your usual composed self to him- and it was at a sense awkward but yet vulnerable and familiar.

“y/n!” he cries out to you, grabbing your hand in his tight so you halt your movement.

tugging on you hard, wooyoung faces you straight on and cups your cheek with his other hand. his face pulled into the expression of sadness and eagerness as he scanned yours- sub cautiously analyzing your lips and the way they quivered softly. oh how they looked so soft and delicate, how much he wanted you to erase that pout away with a small kiss- but nope, that's not happening.. it just can't.

“y/n why is it selfish?” he asks sadly “it’s not selfish in any way, you have every right to speak out about what you feel- it’s only natural!”

bringing your hand up to hover over his cupping your face, you trace small lines around his fingers as you try to calm your emotions. watching his lip tug with dried blood, you felt defeated- why was it that when wooyoung wasn't there you didn't feel so numb? why was it when wooyoung came, you felt so guilty and overwhelmed- like it's the only time you finally realize the outcome of something in the past?

“i'm sorry.. woo, everytime it seems- i just can't help but feel bad around you-” you pipe out warrily, looking over every feature of his face but his eyes, “you have so much more going on and i have no clue as to-”

“oh pumpkin.” he interrupts, scoffing out and letting go of your cheek to lift your chin up to him for a better view, making your eyes connect with his again “no worries! please i'm sorry to make you worry- i only slipped walking home earlier in the rain.. bashed my mouth right into a bar- pretty embarrassing right?” he giggles out his best. “glad no one was around to see that”

wooyoung could only think you were so overwhelmed seeing his face so he just went on about it, not referring to tell you about his home life yet… or really ever.

but watching the way his eyes flickered with this hidden emotion, you get the weird feeling that wasn't the whole truth he was telling you..

going up the steps to your porch- holding hands with wooyoung, you quietly open the front door. not wanting to wake your mom, because you’re coming home at such a late hour she’s probably in her study sleeping at her desk.

taking off your shoes, you release wooyoung's hand and head into the kitchen- when a piece of paper catches your eye.

on the walk home from the beach and following incidents, wooyoung made sure to comfort you until you were no longer on edge. holding your hand all the way home, giving it three squeezes every once and awhile- which you returned back joyously.

unfolding the piece of paper on the counter, you immediately recognize the handwriting to be seonghwa’s- making you quickly turn to look at wooyoung behind you. seeing he was busy untying his shoe laces you focus back to the note not paying attention to how your hands moved shakily.

“hey little lady,

i understand how things are going to be with us from now on. i’m sorry that it ended up like that.. i really thought it would have a different outcome- but nonetheless i hope you’ve made it home safely.

ah yeah— your mom didn’t actually suggest i’d see you.. i told her that you were the one who wanted me to come, sorry about that.

i understand that our relationship was different with yeosang around- i only wish it could’ve been more y’know.. you were always so cute y/n! yeah .. well i guess have your extreme fun with that freak jung wooyoung.. who lives off the deep end

i miss you already~

-seonghwa”

swallowing the unknown formed lump in your throat, you fold the paper back up and shove it in your pocket before woo can ask any suspicious questions. taking in a deep breath, you do your best with clearing your head- seonghwa had the audacity to apologize like it was nothing? why the fuck did he he bother writing a note to you? he used your mom as an excuse to get to you? and he fucking lied to your mom? this all.. this all was disgusting to you.

“you good y/n?” wooyoung chirps up behind you, ever so gently touching your waist- which involuntarily sent chills over your body

unawaringly jerking away from his hand, you turn to smile up at him. feeling yourself grow unexpectedly hot, and light headed- you push yourself back to lean against the counter.

“yep! all is good wooyoung- do you want hot chocolate?” you say, doing your best at not sounding wary.

the way he looks at you, cocking his head to the side- makes your body feel a little weak. hating the feeling, hazy and unaware of what you look like.

you speak again before he can even answer your first question, trying to present yourself with no issues.

“so.. the bonfire!“

hearing you mention that deal right now… after you just got done having a journey through emotions. wooyoung let’s out a light chuckle- one from your blushing face and two from your seemingly nervous demeanor and how quick you changed the subject. though the way your hands fiddled with the counter you were gripping tight didn’t go unnoticed by him and instead gave him worry. were you really okay?

“yes i would love some hot chocolate y/n…” he retorts back- then as he folds his arms across his chest, wooyoung shoots you a look of ‘i can see right through you’

“why mention the bonfire? i thought you didn’t want to hear anymore of it”

lifting yourself standing straight again, you accompany yourself with grabbing a mug out of the cabinet and hot chocolate packets.

“ah.. well i just guess it’d be nice, to uh have a little distraction? maybe..”

if wooyoung didn’t smile upon hearing that- he would have some problems. you, y/n- wanted to go out for a distraction? to the school bonfire? this friday? did he hear right?

“wait seriously pumpkin? are you joking?” he makes his way to your busy side.

watching you place the water filled tea kettle on the stove and empty the powder mix into the cups, he sees the way you’re a bit shaky. your hands busying themselves with whatever is by before you turn to him.

the two of your bodies closer than intended, as wooyoung’s knee brushed against your inner thigh it made you take in a deep breath and leave your mouth open slightly as he watched you.

oh how you looked right now- you were so oblivious to how wooyoung really felt about you. innocent was it? no. just not cared for properly, and he wanted to help so badly. your wide eyes and staggering breaths made him tone down a bit because… you’d just been harassed like four hours ago by an old ‘friend’ and that’s a dick move.

plus… even he was nervous himself, he didn’t know how you felt about him- and hell, this was just a bad time in general

“w-well yes… but only if i’m with you wooyoung!” you shriek out slapping his chest playfully, “i won’t go if you don’t- and i won’t go if you leave me, because you are literally the only person i like”

“wait. one. second… y/n, likes me??” wooyoung sings out teasingly leaning into your embrace, poking his tongue out as he smiles.

making you slap your hands over your eyes and whine out in embarrassment, you throw yourself into the crook of his neck.

“quit it… you know what i mean woo” you giggle out

all of this felt so natural, so familiar and you missed it. you missed this wooyoung, being so distant since yeosang’s deployment… you just wish this moment could be more.

yeosang said to stay away, and to not listen to him would make you the world’s worst sister- you loved your brother, very much. but. maybe, for once you could do something for you- for yourself

as the both of you slip into another long hug, your once hiding face now leaning into wooyoung’s shoulder while he softly grazes one of his hands down your side- stopping when he reaches your hip to softly squeeze. as he still holds your body close with his other hand, pulling you flush against him. your bodies so comfortable with each other, it was healing something going on inside the both of you… no longer were you nervous or scared, intimidated and embarrassed

then the tea kettle howled with its boiling water- and the two of you separated once more

did he feel bad about lying to you? yes. wooyoung wanted to be able to tell the truth, but as much as he wanted to be comforted because of it- he doesn’t want to bring it up to be seen differently. the rest of the night with you continued on with guilt, and it didn’t get better when you made jokes about him being clumsy and busting his face.

he would just laugh out and hit your shoulder, and it’d be forgotten with a sinking feeling in his stomach of really why he has a purple jaw and a split lip.

wooyoung even had to bring up a semi true story from his childhood in order to try and convince himself- and you that he’s okay- and has always been accident prone.

-

“i’m not kidding y/n! san literally just laughed during the whole thing!!” wooyoung squealed out trying to convince you of the one time he got dragged by san’s grandparents’s dogs on a leash and tried to ride a bike doing so.

which all didn’t end up well— having him crash the bicycle into a stranger's car and the dogs escaping throughout the street.

“wait who’s san?” you ask curiously as your laughter comes down

wooyoung’s face quickly lit up, bringing his hand to itch his ear- he spoke softly as if he needed to keep the subject light and happy, “ah, well he’s an old friend. my first friend actually!”

taking a short pause, wooyoung scoots himself further into the sofa with his hot cocoa in hand. while you hug your knees to your chest watching him get more comfortable.

“well before i moved anyway. san and i were very close and i consider him as my brother! i tried my best to always be there for him like he was for me”

you couldn’t help but feel yourself smile upon the description of wooyoung’s friend, he seems to be very important and it makes him happy

“you should go see him woo!” you tell him sweetly, poking his side playfully

causing him to snort out a stifled laugh and scold you for making him almost spill his drink

“ahh i don’t know, my dad wouldn’t let me i don’t think” wooyoung says before even realizes the words spoken and immediately feels cold as he sits straight and sets his mug down on the coffee table and looks at you

his quick movements scared you a little and his aura gave you worry

“you okay?” pulling your legs down from your arms, you lean over slightly and rest your hand on his now bouncing leg

something he does often- seeming to you when he’s nervous or uncomfortable

“oh yeah! sorry i just realized that we have school tomorrow y/n! and it’s late!” he hurriedly swipes off your hand and heads for the front door, giving out apologies

school? really? he was thinking about that? no way. wooyoung would never, he is one to stay up late any given time with someone who would love talking for hours! what’s going on with him?

“woo? you’re kidding? you can stay if you want- or i can walk you home”

upon hearing your offer he easily shuts it down and refuses politely, “oh no need pumpkin, it’s all good- thank you for the cocoa, i owe you!” and as he opens the door to the cold night air he waves out at last

“see ya tomorrow okay?”

-

the next day at school wooyoung arrived late

you too, were on the brink of being late- since you woke up with 15 minutes to get ready. not even getting a stomach full with breakfast

today wasn’t really settling right, wooyoung was giving you these vibes that were unfamiliar between the two of you

everytime you both were alone together he’d muster out an excuse and leave you there with these thoughts of sadness and … curiosity- it seemed at least

what did you miss last night that set things off differently?

was it because you asked about san?

it couldn’t be that, no. wooyoung looked like he enjoyed telling you about his great friend, you obviously could tell they’ve been through many years together

but, what was it?

what did you say and do to him that caused such awkwardness…

making your way into the hallway, the students dispersing in different directions- everyone’s voice canceling each other out, but you can’t help but hear wooyoungs.

turning the corner to the cafeteria for lunch break, you see him leaning against the vending machines- arm above his head, as he spoke through the phone

“yeah for y/n, but i don’t know… things might be weird, i sorta ran away from her last night.. whoops” he scoffs out, yet gives a soft laugh

you could tell just from his stance and the way his feet bobbed up and down from the sides of his shoes- that he was a bit on edge

“i probably wrecked it, i think i just made it weird..”

you had no clue as to who he was talking to, but you kind of felt bad invading his private conversation

so releasing the breath you were holding, you walked the other direction to take a different route and on your way away, something peaked your attention all over again

“i really wanted to stay with her last night-“

wait. wooyoung.. didn’t want to leave you? then why did he-

what was really stopping him from- wait.. hold on.. or was it rather

who was stopping him...

[hatterstan-shameblog]

💫✨💕send this to ten bloggers you think are wonderful. keep the game going 💕✨

Have a nice day/night/dance battle with the peacocks! :D

Alright, since you are a) very cool and fun and b) you took the time to send such a lovely message, I’m going to give you a part of a fic series I started many moons ago and abandoned for other things

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Hatter Has Definitely Kissed Every Executive At Least Once And This Is How It Went:  Ann Edition 

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Rating: PG-13

Tags: Alcohol, shenanigans, everyone’s cutting loose, mild reluctance (but these people don’t turn down dares so y’know)

Summary: As a “team building” exercise, all of the Executives have met for a little get-together; and with alcohol and a rousing game of “truth or dare” involved, what could possibly go wrong?

“Ann,” Chisiya says, “truth or dare?”

Ann sighs.  Her red-lacquered fingernails tap rhythmically against the green of a beer bottle, the glassy sound barely audible above the chatting of the half-drunk executives.

“I already told you, I’m not playing.”

“The fuck you aren’t,” Niragi snaps, grip on his rifle tightening as he downs another shot of vodka, “no skips, that’s the rule.”

“If I had to do it, you have to do it,” Keiichi offers mournfully, taking a sad sip of bourbon from a crystal-cut glass, “it’s only fair.”

Ann turns her attention towards Hatter.  He’s taking a healthy swig from—ew, is that a bottle of peppermint schnapps?  She wrinkles her nose in disgust as he raises his eyebrows in a suggestive arch.

“This is a terrible idea,” she tells him for the fourth time in the last hour, “and you should feel bad for making us do this.”

“Ann.  Sweet, darling,” Hatter takes note of her unimpressed grimace, “angry Ann.  This is all an exercise in trust.  A way for all of us executives to bond.”

“And because he loves the drama,” Aguni adds.

“I really do,” Hatter says wistfully, “So, come on.  One round and then you can go back to summoning demons or whatever you do in your little basement crypt.”

Ann sighs.  Everyone is looking at her with expectant eyes.  She finishes the rest of her beer and puts the empty bottle on the table.

“Fine,” she says, “One round, and then I’m leaving.”

“The ice queen giveth in,” Chisiya says, the corners of his mouth turning up onto a mischievous grin, “So, pick your poison.  Truth...or dare?”

“Dare,” Ann says coolly, and the room erupts.  Even Last Boss, who had been lurking in the corner until now, gasps.  In a rare show of camaraderie, Niragi slaps Chisiya on the back and tells him to ‘give that bitch a good one.’

Imbeciles.  All of them.

“Everyone gather ‘round the table,” Chisiya purrs—yes, purrs—as he looks her with a twinkle in his eye, “because this particular date involves each and every one of you.”

“Even me?” asks Last Boss.

“But of course,” Chisiya says, “we need everyone if we’re going to play...spin the bottle.”

Ann feels the blood drain from her face.  Oh, this little blond twerp is despicable.  He is evil and terrible and—

“No re-spins.  No backing out.  The kiss must last a minimum of five seconds, but it can go longer if you feel so inclined.”

“I won’t,” Ann answers curtly.  There is not a person in this room she could ever want to kiss.  (Except for Mira, but.  Well.  That’s a thought for another day.)

“I don’t know,” Niragi says with an exaggerated flick of his tongue, the silver piercing winking at her in a supposedly seductive manner, “once you get a taste of a real man, you might find yourself hooked.”

“Perhaps Niragi wouldn’t be so bad,” Mira muses with a serene smile, “his oral fixation is off-putting on the best of days, but it might translate well to a more intimate experience.  That is, until he starts talking again.  Then it’ll be terrible.”

Niragi’s face twists into a sharp scowl as he tries to sputter a comeback; drunkenness and embarrassment have apparently robbed him of his mental faculties, so he crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Ann says with a huff.  

She places her empty beer bottle, label-side down, on the long wooden table.  For the first time this evening, everyone is silent.  Honestly, it’s kind of nice—it would be better if she didn’t have to end up kissing one of them, but, beggars can’t be choosers.

“You know,” Ann says, “there is a possibility it could land on me.  Does that mean I don’t have to kiss anyone?”

“That means you get to choose,” Chisiya says, “which...well, that will most certainly add some spice to the night, wouldn’t it?”

“Very evil,” Aguni concludes with a nod, “I like it.”

Hm.  Well, it was worth a shot.  

With one final, annoyed sigh, Ann places her hand on the bottle and gives it a powerful spin.  Maybe it’ll spin right off the table and shatter on the floor.  She wouldn’t have to do anything weird, and then she could just go back to her room and take a long bath.  Alone.  The way the universe intended.

It’s impossible not to watch the bottle spin, light refracting off the glass and casting flickering spots of light around the room.  It’s just a kiss.  She’s kissed people before.  Many people.  At least two.  

Friends kiss each other all the time.  Not her friends, but other people and their friends.  And these people aren’t really ‘friends,’ but they’re...acquaintances.  Colleagues.  Does that make it better or worse?

It’s slowing down now.  With each passing second, her fate is being decided by the neck of the bottle.  Mira, Last Boss, Keiichi—oh, God, please don’t let it be Keiichi, they have a meeting in the morning, that would be so awkward...

But, luckily, the bottle does not land on Keiichi.  It does not land on Niragi, nor does it land on Chisiya.  Last Boss has also been spared, as have Aguni and Mira.  That leaves only one candidate...

“Oh, Ann,” Hatter says, clapping his hands together and looking entirely too pleased with this very strange turn of events, “I always knew there was something between us!”

The thing he’s talking about is tolerance—she tolerates him because it is both sensible and beneficial to be on his good side.  He also, surprisingly enough, defers to her expertise on certain matters, which is more than can be said for her previous employers.  They are friendly, certainly, but most certainly not friends.  

And...lovers?  

Out of the question.

But Fate (and a smug little blonde) have decided that they share a moment of passion. Could she have spun worse?  Yes.  Could she have spun better?  Absolutely.  100%.  Without a doubt.

But Ann is a woman of integrity.  When she commits, she commits.  And so, as she walks to the other side of the table, she keeps her spine straight and her head held high.  She refuses to let these people see her falter.

“In addition to the parameters already given, I’d like to establish some rules of my own,” she says coolly, barely resisting the temptation to roll her eyes when he takes another gulp of alcohol.  Yep, that’s definitely peppermint schnapps he has—she can tell by the stench of it, the way it’s sharpness burns at her eyes.

She’s always hated peppermint schnapps.

“Fine, fine,” Hatter says with a wave of his hand, “as long as you promise not to fall completely in love with me in the process.”

That gets a laugh from everyone—and even Ann considers cracking a smile at the thought of someone like her ever feeling something for someone like him.  

“No tongue.  No teeth.  And,” Ann tell him firmly, “if you want to leave this room with your balls intact, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”

The group ooh’s at that.  Ann doesn’t look at them.  She keeps her gaze focused on the man in front of her, watching him intently for any signs of weakness.

All she gets is a smirk.

“I would expect nothing less of you, Ann,” he replies, “however, you’re more than welcome to put your hands anywhere on my person.”

He leans in slightly, almost as if he’s letting her in on a secret.

“I could even give you a few suggestions, if you like.”

What a perfectly hideous thing for him to say.  It doesn’t help that he’s fluttering his eyelashes at her like some kind of lovestruck cartoon character.  

It’s annoying.

He’s annoying.

With a roll of her eyes, Ann grabs Takeru by the silk of his obnoxious robe and crashes her mouth against his-- because she’ll be damned if he’s the one kissing her.  

Five...

The group gasps-- Takeru included, the noise muffled by the seal of their lips as she kisses him fully and firmly.

Four...

And it’s...not as gross as it could be, but it’s still a very odd experience.  His lips are soft enough, and his beard-moustache-whatever-the-fuck is scratchy in a way that is.  Well, it’s interesting.  Not good, but...interesting.

Three...

“This is fucking weird,” Niragi shouts, sounding very disgusted.

Two...

“It’s like watching my parents,” Last Boss adds, “when they were still trying to convince my sister and I they were still in love and weren’t going to get a divorce.”

One...

And done.

“Okay,” Ann says flatly as she pulls away and swallows a grimace at the sight of her favorite shade of lipstick on Takeru’s lips (and is actually a very nice compliment to his skin tone, frustratingly enough) “Can I go now.” 

For good measure, she releases his robe with a disdainful flick of her fingers and subtly brushes her hands off on her shorts.  It’s not enough to get the scent of peppermint schnapps and awkwardness off of her skin, but it can’t hurt.

“A deal’s a deal,” Chisiya concedes, his eternally mischievous smirk stretched across his cheeks, “And I must say, I didn’t expect you to fulfill your end of the bargain so...enthusiastically.”

“That’s because nobody can resist me,” Takeru gloats, bottle of alcohol back in his grip as if it had never truly left, “It’s not her fault I’m so delectable--”

“Detestable,” Ann corrects under her breath.

“--And, even though you’ll try to deny it,” Takeru continues, disregarding her comment, “both of us know that there’s a part of you that liked kissing me.”

“I liked the part when she stopped,” Mira chirps cheerfully, “In fact, I think we all did!”

“You have no idea,” Aguni murmurs solemnly into his drink, his eyes darting towards Takeru with an unimpressed look.  That’s...hm, there’s clearly some kind of story there, although Ann isn’t sure she wants to know about it. 

Everyone begins talking amongst themselves once again-- Niragi has offered to spin the bottle next, and there’s a small argument breaking out over whether or not the group should continue with their original game of ‘truth or dare’ or pivot to this new one. 

And, Ann?

Ann doesn’t stick around to find out. 

[quietmyfearswith]

thorned flowers ; andy barber x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count —8,528  words

summary — in which andy barber mourns the loss of his family, until he finds another reason to be hopeful for the future.

warnings —SMUT, DARK THEMES, stalking, drugging (like putting some fertility things in their food and drink, oral (female receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, andy being sad, SOFT!DARK!ANDY, dubious pregnancy/breeding

pairing — soft!dark!andy barber x fem!florist!reader

a/n — DNI IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!,, this is my entry for @imanuglywombat​‘s “is that even a sex position” challenge. and the certain position was the special breakfast(you can find it liked in the smut part)... anyway here is the second oneshot for my folklore series! next is either a oneshot for the same series or a preference... feedback is appreciated!

tagging — @la-cey​ @pedropcl​ @iloveshawnieboi​

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

As Andy drove closer and closer to the graveyard, he felt the sweat from his hands drop onto the steering wheel — making it even more difficult for him to grip onto the leather. The last time he visited Jacob was when they buried him a few months ago; the pain was too much for him to bear, making it difficult for him to go and visit his deceased son — the son he loved, cared for, and protected. The son whom he once had precious memories with was now gone.

It wasn’t that he had fully grieved his loss, but he was getting there. But he didn’t just lose his son in that fateful accident that happened nine months ago, he had lost — or more accurately, divorced — Laurie when she confessed that she still had doubts about Jacob’s innocence and crashed the car for she couldn’t believe the monster her son had become. Every ounce of self-control was used by Andy the moment he got the chance to speak with his ex-wife in the middle of her hearing; every curse word he knew was thrown at her for her brutal actions that led to his untimely death.

Now as he faces the aftermath of every single thing that has transpired over the past months, he couldn’t help but feel empty. Happiness was something he longed for; he once had it all, but a series of events reversed that situation quickly. He would do anything to once again look forward to going home, knowing that he had a loving wife and joyful child; instead of coming home to his house filled with silence and agony for it serves as a reminder of what he once had.

Well, maybe not what he had — it wasn’t perfect and the ideal picture he always dreamt way back then. A fresh start, he thought silently, a new start with someone who can fulfill my dreams.

Parking in parallel, Andy looked to see if there were oncoming cars before going down to enter the flower shop. The soft bell that hung above let out a small chime as he opened the door, his blue eyes scanning the different floral arrangements that were littered across the store. Roses, lilis, orchids, sunflowers — all of them looked and smelt lovely. It made him smile how pleasing to the eyes every bouquet was, making it difficult for him  to choose what to get.

“Hi! How can I help you?” A voice spoke up which made Andy turn his attention to the girl wearing overalls who just came from the back room. Once he quickly took in her appearance, though her face sweat a bit and her overalls had patches of greens thanks to the plants, he thought she looked adorable and cleared his throat, “I was hoping to buy some flowers.”

Smiling widely, she wiped her forehead with a towel draped on her shoulder as she said, “I’m happy to help,” She stood by the shelves as she pointed through some flowers, “These have just been arranged today. Oh! And these lilacs and peonies just came in today, too.” Andy couldn’t help but chuckle softly upon seeing how cute her excited state was. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the occasion or for whom these flowers are? Just so I could suggest a few things to you,” She turned to him after listing some of the fresh flowers she had.

“It’s for my son, I’m visiting his grave today.” Y/N wanted to smack herself; her shop was located less than ten miles away from the nearest graveyard. His gloomy, silent aura should have been a clue on how he was mourning, she thought. “I’m so sorry to hear that, sir. How an arrangement of lilies and roses?”

Following her as she walked towards the opposite side of the store where a shelf containing an arrangement of lilies and roses were displayed. With a nod, Andy confirmed, “I’ll take that please.” Grabbing the vase, she excused herself to move onto the counter. Placing it on the wooden surface, she went to get a watering can to place some more water for the flowers. Wanting to talk with her more, he decided to initiate a conversation, “Slow day?”

Peering her eyes up as she returned the can, she nodded her head a bit, “We’ve had customers, but there’s no rush, you know?” Mindlessly, he bobbed his head up and down as she continued, “Some are for their wives, some for their mistresses — but don’t tell!” She placed her index finger on her lips to make her point and the lawyer couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore and shook his head at her goofiness.

“And you’re the first to buy then go to the cemetery, usually they don’t come this time of the day,” She gasped upon realizing what she said; as she punched in his total she didn’t have time to analyze what she said, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry about that, sir!”

Eyes widening at her apology, Andy wondered why she was saying sorry for, “What for?” Looking down as she played with the denim material of her outfit she muttered shyly, “Well you know, I didn’t mean to bring you up. Or the whole cemetery thing.”

Catching her drift, he nodded and genuinely smiled as he reassured her that he took no offense, “It’s alright, you didn't mean harm with it, yeah?” She nodded as she changed their topic before she could embarrass herself any further, “Your total comes to $26.25; how would you like to pay?”

“Credit,” He curtly replied as he took out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans; as he was inserting the PIN, he found himself wondering why she suddenly meant all business. Staring at her focused expression which included her lips slightly pursued gave him a faint clue that perhaps she didn't want to embarrass herself any further.

“Here’s your receipt,” She slid the paper across the counter; as she placed her hands on the glass jar to move it closer towards the customer, Andy placed his on top of hers as he too made a move to grab the vase. Surprised with the warmth and spark she felt when their skins grazed against each other, the florist shyly smiled as she moved her hands away from the vase, “Thank you for visiting us, sir.”

“Andy,” He introduced himself as he carried the vase with one arm as the other extended to her direction, offering to shake hands, “And your name is?” She shook her hand as she gave him her name — the lawyer repeating it as he liked how it rolled off his tongue. Disentangling their hands, Y/N fiddled with her hands nervously as the attractive man waved at her one final time as he left the store, not before promising, “Gonna see you real soon, petal.”

Placing the floral arrangement on the front passenger side, Andy couldn’t help but feel giddy with himself as he jogged to the driver’s seat. “Y/N,” He repeated to himself as he began the drive to the cemetery. In their short, yet sweet interaction, he couldn’t help but feel lighter upon meeting her. Could this mean something? He wondered as to why he was feeling this way with her.

Once he found a decent parking spot, he went out of his car with the flowers and walked to where Jake rested. “Hey buddy, how you doing?” Placing the flowers by the stone where his name was engraved, he sat by the grass as Andy looked up in the sky. “I’ve been doing good, I think. Work keeps me busy and I’ve been doing some outdoor exercise as an excuse to get out of the house.”

Picking at the grass as he recalls what has happened the last nine months, “And I think your middle school named something after you. Though I wasn’t paying too close attention to know what it actually was — sorry about that, buddy. But your friend Sarah, she asked for some of your things and clothes. Think she has, or had, a crush on you,” Exhaling deeply as he paused, the lawyer couldn’t help but mourn about the endless possibilities and chances his son would have had if it wasn’t for her.

“Anyway, Laurie has been sending some letters. I don’t if I should read them — part of me wants too, I still want to know if she’s doing well. But there’s this part of me that wants nothing to do with her, because of what she’s done to you, us, and because of what she failed to do,” Hooking his chin on the palm of his hand as he could feel the slight sharpness of his elbow against his thigh, he contemplated a bit, “What do you think I should do, Jake?”

Grass slanted towards the east as sharp gusts of winds prickled Andy’s skin which made him smirk slightly as he looked at the name of his son, “I take that as I need to be the bigger person and reach out to your mother?” When the grass was left unmoving, it was seen as a confirmation that his son did want him to reconnect with her. Nodding to himself, he guaranteed he would do so, “Okay then, Jake. I’ll do so.”

A softer wind brushed and swayed the flowers he bought, making it look even more graceful than it already was — which reminded Andy of the woman he met earlier. “And I met someone earlier, on the way here, actually.” His lips formed into a smile as he thought of how charming and sweet she was as he was being accommodated ; he wondered something out loud, “Do you think I should do uh, what term did you use? Shot your shoot? No, it’s shoot your shot, right?” He scratched the back of his neck as he racked his brain remembering how he’d be teased for finding it difficult to familiarize himself with this decade’s lingo, “Anyway, she just seems so kind and welcoming; and there’s something about her that makes me feel like I could have a second chance at happiness.”

Should his headspace not have been in a remorseful one, he would have found it frightening how it seemed the wind only moved the arrangement of lilies and roses in an almost ludicrous fashion. Whether it was a sign his child had sent him or something his mind was making up, he interpreted it as a sign he should go for it. “Guess I will shoot my shot, Jake.”

Kneeling by the slab of marble, his thumb was rubbing against his son’s full name as Andy sadly smiled, “I love you, buddy. See you soon.” Standing up, he walked away and to his car feeling lighter. Being able to go to his son was progress for the lawyer as he was slowly coming to terms with the events that happened. Reaching out to Laurie was also another way of him acknowledging the past and coming to terms with — and it would probably give him the closure he needed as he ventured on to the future.

The future, he thought, seemed to be brighter right now. And the sole reason why he thought that way was because of someone he had just met. Normally he would be rolling his eyes at the thought of love at first sight; but now things are different since he’s a changed man. Hastily exiting his parked car, he entered through the back door where he discarded his shoes and socks by the doorway. Flipping his laptop open, he opened his browser and searched for the name of the flower shop he visited.

This was far from the usual search engines — like Google or Ecosia — for this allowed him to know every single thing there is to know about what he searched. Usually, he would use this solely for work; and this was the first time he ever used it for his own selfish reason. Not only the reviews, location, and services offered by the flower shop appeared on the screen after a few minutes. The business and clearance permits were shown; but so did the owner's name appear. “Y/F/N,” He read out loud as he highlighted her name and searched again.

Social media accounts, educational background, cell phone number, and her address shown up in an instant. A smile settled on his lips as he took in everything there was to learn about her. Part of him was glad that she didn’t post too much of herself online for he couldn’t see how pretty she was — but he considered it a good thing for it wouldn't attract anymore competition or creeps. Flowers filled her feed and by reading through each and every one of her posts, relief washed over him upon knowing that these were flowers she arranged and were not gifts to her by a beau.

Peeking at her phone records, he noticed how there had been only a few register of incoming and outgoing calls — the fact that her most called number was of a restaurant that delivers had been slightly concerning for him — and digging into her text history, there was no hints that she was in a relationship. As he searched for her address online, it was brought to his attention how she lived not too far from where he was residing, in just twenty minutes he could be over with her. As he closed his laptop it was clear to Andy how perfect Y/N was for him — and that she would be the perfect woman for him to build a family with.

Going to the living room, he grabbed for the letters sent by Laurie. There were a total of four, and until now he hasn’t opened a single one. After reading them he was relieved to find out that she was doing well and that she wasn’t being mistreated by anyone over there. She also has repeatedly apologized for what she has done. Fear and uncertainty were just some of the two overwhelming emotions that affected her decision-making. Sentiments of how she misses their son and long for how they once were.

Grabbing a pen and paper, Andy then wrote his own letter in response;

Laurie,

I apologize for taking too long to reach out to you — it took me a while to come to terms with everything that happened. What you did came as a shock to me. I never knew about how still had your apprehensions about Jacob. I wish you would have talked to me about it, or even to him.  Perhaps by doing so things would have been resolved better.

I won’t lie to you so I will just tell you that I believe it was harsh of you to end Jacob’s life like that. He had so much waiting for him — so much potential and fire within him, and to see it all disappear breaks my heart. After his trial ended, I thought of it as a chance for all of us to have a clean slate — granted it didn’t feel like it — and have the chance to redeem ourselves and build another life for all of us. But I didn’t imagine for it to be this way — us divorced while you’re in jail and our son buried six feet under.

Nevertheless, I won’t dwell on what has been. I will focus on the future. Speaking of, I would like to apologize as well for shoving the divorce papers in you. It might seem like a “heat of the moment” decision; but I think we both saw it coming. Having our marriage and relationship built on a lie, it all would have led to this moment — one way or another. It was neglectful of me to lay it on you when you already had your plate full, but I guess there was just really no perfect timing for it either, no?

The frequency of my letters to you might vary, but rest assured I will write to you as much as I can. I hope that you will find peace and safety despite your current situation. I wouldn’t fully say that I have forgiven you for what you did, but I am on the path of reaching that point.

Take care always, Andy

As he folded up the piece of paper and slid it on an envelope, Andy felt lighter. Somehow there this part of him knew how shitty the content was. But that was what he felt. What he wanted to tell Laurie. Sealing the envelope, he then pasted a stamp on it then stood up to place the letter on his coat jacket; that way he won’t forget to drop it off.

Returning to his work desk, he then looked over the information he had collected. Another thing that the letter made him feel was that he has already made closure with his past; and now he can venture on and look forward to the future. And he sees one with Y/N.

*

Having worked at a flower shop for almost five years, Y/N almost memorized the frequent visitors of the cemetery. She always engaged in polite conversations with them. Another thing is that she noticed a pattern as well. If one visits every week, it was a sign that they have yet to come to terms with the loss of their loved one. Once their visits became less frequent, say with two weeks in between, she took it as a sign that, slowly but surely, they were getting over their grief and sadness. And when the gaps between their visits stretched over a month or so, it showed that they had reached the final stage of grief — acceptance.

That’s why as much as she enjoyed her small talk with the customers — which ranged from their daily activity to workplace gossip — she felt fulfilled for them once their visit became less and less frequent than their initial ones. Besides, there were always new friends that she could make along the way. It just so happens that Andy happens to be one of her potential friends. Having never seen him before and their brief conversation, led her to believe that the death of his son was fairly recent.

“Hey, Y/N,” His warm, deep voice rang through her shop. Fortunately, she was in the front checking the sales so far when he entered. It was exactly seven days after he dropped by her shop on his way to the cemetery — and then her hunch was somewhat confirmed. “Hi, Andy. how are you?”

He carried with him a tray with a couple of drinks — one was his preference for coffee while the other was her favorite kind of drink to start off her day. Placing it on the counter he smiled at her, “Busy day?”  Placing down the clipboard she was holding she rested both her hands on the counter, “It was, yeah. Wedding bouquets, centerpieces for events, any occasion you can possibly think of suddenly needed flowers. Not that I’m complaining! But I'm just thankful I’m gonna be having a break in a few.”

Laughing at her dilemma he then casually brought up, “Well I was in the coffee shop earlier and they gave me a spare drink,” Pushing the cup of her favorite drink to her, he offered it to her, “Do you want it?” Not wanting to seem ungrateful, she brought the cup to her nose, she smelt it and was surprised to find out it smelt like her favored drink. Taking a sip a bit, she smiled after she placed it down, “Thank you so much for it, Andy!”

Hiding a smirk, he simply nodded at her as he took a sip out of his own drink too, “I have two orders of flowers for today. White carnations on a small vase, and yellow orchids on one of those small boxes,” He pointed behind her, where mounted on the wall were some packaging ideas for the flowers. Nodding her head, she pushed the hot beverage aside as she got to work.

A slow, melodious song played in the background; and the lawyer just found it even more adorable with how she hummed along to it. While working on his purchases, she shifted her gaze to look at him. However, she quickly turned away due to the intensity of his stare — no one had ever looked at her with so much interest. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” She cleared her throat, as she tried to diffuse the tension. With every move she made while cutting the orchids to fit the wooden box, she could feel his eyes trailing her in an instant, “It certainly is.” Her eyes were focused on trimming up the stems of the carnation, so she missed the way he was looking at her and not on the flowers.

Placing the trimmed up carnations on the vase, she then grabbed for the watering can to fill them up a bit with water. “Here you go, Andy,” She shyly declared as she was done with the yellow orchids and white carnations. Heading over to the  cash register to punch in the items, he spoke, “Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

Shaking her head no, “That’ll be $45.17,” She turned the card machine towards him, “No plans tonight. Just gonna be staying in. How about you?” After entering the card details he was asked for, he slid his card on his back pocket as he joked, “Well I’m gonna try and stay in with you then.”

Hearing her giggle made him wonder if she realized how serious he was. He truly wanted to be a part of her life; and she didn’t even know the effect she had on him. Handing him the receipt, Y/N watched closely how Andy only grabbed for the white carnations, “Andy? Are you forgetting these?”

As she held the yellow orchids, he shook his head and smiled warmly, “They’re for you. I’ve read somewhere that they represent friendship.” Taken aback with what he said, she nodded her head and confirmed, “They do, yeah.” A hand then reached over as it caressed her cheek before settling it under her chin, lifting her head a bit to stare at his passionate eyes, “And I hope that this is a start of a beautiful one.”

His thumb tapped her jaw softly before letting go and walking out of the store; it was only then that Y/N managed to let out a breath she didn’t realize was being bottled up inside her. Holding the box with one hand as the other patted the flower’s petal, she spoke to herself, “I really hope that it is the start of one.”

“I’m going out with Y/N tonight, Jake,” Andy told his son as he sat on the grass after placing the wonderful arrangement she made near his name. “Well, it’s not really a date. She wrote down on her schedule app that she’ll go to the grocery store today during her break. So I’ll just casually bump into her there.” It was incredible that with today’s technology he was able to even see what was in her phone. Using it to his advantage, he tried to pattern most of his schedule with hers; and so far this was the first one that lined up.

As his legs crossed, his hands were rubbing against his shin while recalling what the past week looked like for him, “I also finally wrote back to Laurie. The letter I wrote might have been shitty but it’s still been a struggle for me to put into words what I feel.”

Like the last time, a cool breeze of wind prickled his skin even as he wore a gray henley, “You’re right. It was harsh. But I’m hoping that as time goes on, I’ll be more of a friend to her.” He once again found himself staring at the flowers and smiled, “I’m gonna be honest and tell you that I was planning to divorce her either way. It just wasn’t working out anymore, bud.”

Memories of their fights that happened in the garage so Jacob wouldn’t have to see them yelling at each other flashed through his mind. “And somehow I can’t help but think that maybe Y/N would have been the perfect stepmother for you. She’s really nice and sweet. Based on what she listens to, I feel like you two would have gotten along well.” Once again his heart aches at the thought of how his son had his future right in front of him, and yet it was all snatched away from him.

Kneeling down, his fingertips brushed against Jacob’s name, “Anyway, gonna let you know how’d the date go next week. I love you, buddy.” Walking to his car, he felt giddy at the thought of going to the grocery store. He never imagined doing something so mundane would make him feel this way.

Noticing that the Oreos had a two for one deal, she didn’t hesitate to grab two packs. Pushing the grocery cart down, she was proud of herself for not getting every snack she craved for. Stay on budget, she reminded herself mentally, you’re saving for that new laptop, remember? And that explained why she’d always buy what was on sale; brand loyalty be damned!

Checking her list, she now had toiletries, vegetables, a small selection of fruits, meat and fish, as well as her snacks and drinks. She even managed to buy rice that was on sale. As her eyes scanned for pasta, she let out a small huff how the last one was at the very top, pushed at the back. Standing on her tippy toes, she tried to reach for it — but as her nails scratched the container, it only pushed the item further away.

Feeling a warm body press against hers as they reached for the box, she turned around and was shocked to see it was Andy, “Here you go.” Grabbing the item from him, she smiled at him after placing it on her cart. “Thanks, Andy. would have ended up climbing my cart just to reach it.”

That’s dangerous! Can’t have you risking your body when it’s soon to be carrying our child, He scolded her in his mind. But what he really told her was, “Well we can’t have that happening; some are gonna think that you’re a die hard pasta lover.” They both laughed at what he said as they both walked. She noticed how he only had a basket with him that was filled with a few personal hygiene products and a reusable bag.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you shop here before,” She’s shopped at this market in different times and days, and not once has she seen his face before. Already having prepared an answer, he smiled, “Well this is further from my home. But it was on the way back, since I did just come from the cemetery.”

Shaking her head as she cursed herself, she turned to him to express regret, “I’m sorry for that. It seems like I always unknowingly bring that up.” Bopping her nose with his finger he reassured her, “Like you said, unknowingly. You didn’t know that it would somehow lead to that — so don’t sweat yourself about it.”

Bashfully, she just kept her head down as she lined up for the cashier. Andy didn’t follow her directly as he opted for the self-service check out. Still, after he was done paying he waited for her at the end of the lane. When he noticed that she struggled to carry her items, she took two of her bags — leaving her to carry only one.

“Andy! Let me get it, there’s no need for you to do that,” She tried grabbing for her bags as they walked out of the market. Bringing the bags to his side so she wouldn’t reach it, he stuck his tongue out, playfully, “No way! Plus these are too heavy for you. So allow me to be a good citizen and carry it for you okay?”

Deciding that it wasn’t worth her time and energy to fight him, she just nodded and began to silently lead him to her car — but what she didn’t realize was that not only did the lawyer know what kind of car she had, but also where she had parked it. “You know it feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”

What she said had him interested as they both neared her vehicle, “And why is that?” Opening the trunk of her car, she placed the bag she carried before reaching over to him and grabbing the ones he brought, “Well you buy flowers from me — and this morning you even gave me one — and then you carry my things like you’re my servant.”

Oh if you only knew, love, he thought to himself. But he smirked at her as he closed the trunk before placing his own bag then resting his elbow on the car, “Well how about a repayment then?”

“Done! Your next order, or orders, of flowers are on me.” Her quick response had Andy laughing, “I didn’t mean for it that way, petal.” The nickname he used had her stuttering for a bit as her brain felt like it was being transformed into a melted mess. “What’d you mean then?”

“How about we text? You know, we exchange numbers and just get to know each other a little better,” For some reason Andy felt nervous as he proposed the idea. Insecurity lingered on his head as he tried to gently weasel his way in. But it brought him comfort when she smiled and nodded, “I’d love that, Andy!” While she grabbed for her phone that was in the pocket of her leggings.

He already had her number registered in his phone, it was only for formality’s sake that he put in his number on her cellular device so as not to raise any suspicion. “I look forward to chatting with you,” She giggled at the term he used, causing him to raise an eyebrow at her. “I just found it silly how you said chatting. It’s silly, really.”

Placing a hand on his chest as he pretended to be offended, he defended himself, “I may not use today’s terms but I sure am a great person to have a conversation with.” Chuckling, she just bopped his nose before heading to the driver’s seat, “Only one way to find out, yeah?”

Nodding, he winked at her before grabbing his bag and heading on over to his car, “Only one way. See you soon, Y/N. Take care on your drive.” As she entered her car, she unlocked her phone and sent out a text to Andy:

take care as well, Andy! thank you once again for helping me out :D ‘til next time!

Placing her phone on the seat beside her, she turned on the engine and was preparing to leave when she heard her phone chime. Surprised with how quickly responded, she then decided to read the message now:

Can’t imagine this will be the last time I’ll be helping you out. (I’m kidding of course! Unless…)

Shaking her head at his goofiness, she began her journey back to the shop where she decided it would be best to not reply to him right away. They’ve only interacted twice but she couldn’t help but find him attractive. He had this charm in him and the way he carried himself was amazing. It also helped that he was pleasing to the eye and quick-witted. Perhaps this could be more than just a friendship; but Andy had already had an entire plan hatched out in order for that to happen.

*

Andy was having a bad week. He wanted to have gone to visit Y/N on Wednesday since those were the days of when he had previously visited her. Granted, they have been texting throughout the previous week, it still doesn’t compare to seeing her actual face and getting the chance to touch her skin. But having been swamped with work since he was assigned to a massive, imperative case; and now that it was almost being resolved, he thought to unwind and relax. And what better way to do so than spending time with his best girl?

The moment he stepped foot in her floral shop, his sweet, positive attitude he had quickly turned out to be a sour one. “Andy, hi!” Her excited voice made him put on a fake smile, stopping his earlier activity which was piercing daggers through the back of the man’s head she was earlier talking to. Cautiously, he stepped forward to stand behind the till as the man stood off to the side as he held out his hand, “Hey, man. I’m Scott Lang!”

“Scott here just delivered the flowers,” She pointed to the crates of flowers that she has yet to unpack. “Oh? And he’s still here because?” Despite being serious, the two took it as a joke and just laughed it off. Scott even hit his palm against Andy’s muscular bicep as he threw his head back laughing, “Well I was just catching up with Y/N, it’s been awhile since I got assigned to her little shop. And i’ve got a few more deliveries to make, so I’m gonna go ahead.” The relief that the lawyer had when Scott waved goodbye was short lived for he heard him call out to Y/N, “I’ll see you on game night, okay?”

It even pained him when she nodded her head while she placed her elbow on the crate on the counter, “So, Andy, what can I get for you?”

“White chrysanthemums on that white box, please,” Patting down his pants, he shook his head and scowled, “Shoot, I forgot my wallet in the car. Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He didn’t even wait for her reply as he was quickly heading out the door. Looking to his right, he noticed Scott’s delivery trunk and how he was reading something off a tablet as he stood with his back leaned against the door to the driver’s seat.

Scott was taken aback with the sudden force on his shoulders, prompting him to look up from the tablet and on the face of the man he just met, “Andy? What?” The bearded man had his hands pressing onto his shoulders, shoving the delivery man even more into the car’s material, “Stay away from, Y/N.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Leave it to Scott to find the current situation he was in hilarious as he chuckled out his response. Andy, however, didn’t find humor in the situation; the intense gaze his eyes trapped Scott in partnered with the firm grip he had on his shoulders made it clear how serious he was. “You heard me,” He spoke after gulping down the tension he was bottling up, “Stay away from Y/N; she’s mine.”

Breaking into a heartfelt smile, Scott cooed, “Did she tell you about her crush on you? Are you finally together? She has been gushing to me and Hope about how nice and handsome you were being.” At his statement, the lawyer released his solid grip on the man; confused at what he said he questioned, “She said that? Who’s Hope?”

Chuckling at his confused state, Scott playfully hit his arm, “Hope’s my wife! She and Y/N are close friends you know? And my daughter, Cassie, absolutely adores Y/N. We try to have her over as often for game night. We’ve only seen her once in the past few weeks, and she talked our ears off about how great you are!”

Andy could feel himself getting all shy and warm with how his girl was crushing on her; Scott shook his own head as recollection of how dreamy his florist friend was at the thought of this man. And to think he was being the same right now! The expression he had on his face also gave him a clue that two weren;t officially an item yet. With a final nod, he hopped into his van, “Next time I see the two of you, you better be a couple already! ‘M sick of this pining and puppy dog looks of love!”

Laughing out, Andy shook his head as he waved off to Scott who was already driving away. To think that I saw him as a threat, he scolded himself as he began walking back to her shop, when all this time he was a big help.

“Hey! You found your wallet?” She inquired upon seeing his smiling face walking right back in her shop; she thought that he looked even more handsome in that state — there was something about him sporting a boyish look despite looking dignified made her undergarments wet. Nodding, he moved to the counter and admired the arrangement she had made, “Wow! These look wonderful, Y/N. How much do I owe you?”

“Just $19.35. So, you finally got a break from your big case huh?” Tapping his credit card on her machine, he nodded as he let out an exaggerated sigh to which she giggled at, “Finally! I think my back’s starting to ache from all those long hours of sitting down!”

Pushing the floral arrangement to him, she decided to tease him, “You sure it’s not your old age catching up to you?” With wide eyes, he feigned offense as he gasped out loud, “I’ll have you know I am extremely handsome and even look young for someone my age!”

“Don’t I know it,” She mumbled lowly, but still wasn’t soft enough for the lawyer to miss. So he asked her with a smirk etched on his face, “What was that, petal?”

Like a deer caught off guard by headlights, she shook her head, “Nothing! I didn’t say no thing.”

“Well that’s a double negative; so it definitely means you said something,” Both his hands grabbed for one of her hands from across the counter as he held it delicately, “What kind of tree can you fit in your hand?”

Unsure where this was going, she asked, “What? What kind?” Bringing her hand up, he placed a gentle kiss on her palm before answering, “A palm tree, of course!”

Snatching her hand from his grip as he said his joke, she laughed as she teasingly chastised him, “You and your dad jokes, Andy! I swear to God!” Loving how flustered she was, he decided to tease her even more, “Does that mean you’ll call me daddy?”

By now she was a stuttering mess, “Ha, very original, Andy.” Bopping her nose, he bid her adieu as he carried out the arrangement out of her store — walking away with a wide smile on his face. Now feeling more relaxed than ever.

Giddily, he placed the flowers by the top right end of Jacob’s grave as he sat down and told his son, “You’ll never believe what I found out today, Jake!”

*

Are you busy tonight?

Andy bit his lip in anticipation as he stared at his phone, waiting for a reply. Considering how it was just 3 in the afternoon, he gave her the benefit of the doubt that she was busy with the flower shop — maybe counting her inventory or checking her sales. His blue eyes lit up when she replied:

well depends on who’s asking :P but after work i have no plans…

Perfect, Andy thought. He had enough of waiting and he’d like to think that his plan was working out well. They’ve been texting each other consistently for the past two weeks and whatever she hasn’t told him yet, he already knew thanks to his research. She also began to open up to him and so has he. The more he got to know her, the more he was assured that she was the right person for him to begin a new chapter of his life with.

Would you want to come over for dinner then?

Y/N’s breath hitched as she read his text; she was in the middle of watering her flowers when that invite dropped onto her like a ton of bricks. Over the past few days that they’ve gone talking, she felt herself getting more and more attached to the older man. In her mind she had doubts about if this was just a simple dinner or a proposal for a date — so she voiced out her uncertainty:

i will if you answer my question… is this a date? or just like a simple dinner??

Andy had to laugh at her question — she must have been confused and understandably so. So he decided to smooth things out:

If you’re fine with it, it’s a date. But if you’re not, it can be just a friendly dinner.. No pressure on anything, petal.

Squealing as she twirled around, Y/N had to compose herself before sending out a text:

well looks like we’ll be having a date later, andy… can’t wait to see you!

Thankful that time cooperated as it went by quickly, Andy looked over the table one more time — he lit up candles to make the scene even more romantic, brought out napkins to make it seem even fancy, and added some of the flowers he had bought from here the previous day.

Hearing the knock on his door, he put up a bright smile as he opened the door and greeted her, “Hello, petal.” He stood at the side and let her in. surprising the two of them, Y/N surged towards him and hugged him; but it was a welcome surprise as he too wrapped his arms around her.  “Missed me too much, hm?”

She could only hit his arm lightly as she shook her head. Sliding her coat off her body, he hung it on his coat hanger and guided her to the dining room. “Smells great in here. Is that,” She trailed off and looked intently where Andy removed the cover of the pot to reveal her favorite meal.

“My favorite!” She gasped out loud excitedly, “Are you a mind reader, Mr. Barber?” She squinted her eyes suspiciously at him. “Well that is exactly what I am, petal! How did you find out?” Though she took it as a joke, Andy knew better that it wasn’t her mind that she read; instead it was her entire online profile that he monitored.

With that, they began dinner that was filled with laughs and chatter. It seems that despite their difference in age, they always found something to talk about. “Wait, so you really hid your cousin’s clothes in the freezer?”

Nodding her head, she drank the last bit of the wine before answering, “She had it coming her way! She told me I had no chance of marrying Harry Potter!’ There was a baseless jealousy forming in the pit of Andy’s stomach, but he reminded himself that it was just her silly, childhood crush.

“Let me help you with that,” She offered once she noticed that Andy was clearing up their plates. Waving her off, he shook his head as he told her, “You’re my guest — more accurately, my date,” At the reminder of that, she looked down on the floor and Andy smirked, “Why don’t you go wipe off the table instead?”

Nodding, she proceeded to do so as a pleasant silence hung over them; Andy loaded the dishwasher as Y/N wiped off the table. Heading to the trash bin, she threw the trash and the paper towels she used —leaving her to stand beside Andy.

“Look at you, like a real housewife,” His comment had her taken aback. She didn’t know why, but part of her was delighted in the idea. “My, Andy, this is just our first date and you’re already thinking of marriage? What’s next? You wanna knock me up with your kid?”

Oh petal, you have no idea, do you? Andy smirked mentally, but his hands circled around her waist as he laid a gentle kiss at her nose, “And if that is my long term plan?” Pursing her lips, she could only tilt her head down; though it might be too soon for what he had said out loud, there was a tiny part of her that wanted that.

Lifting her head up with a hand, he smirked down at her, “I’m guessing you do want that, do you, petal?” She gave a slight nod which only fuelled Andy’s lust as he kissed her feral, leading her to walk backwards onto the dining table. She gasped as she was being lifted up to sit on the mahogany; granting the lawyer access to let his tongue enter her mouth. He groaned upon relishing the sweet taste that was her while his nimble fingers brutally tore the fabric of her shirt, “No bra? Why petal, were you hoping the date would end this way?”

She shook her head but quickly stopped as she let out a moan when she felt his lips and teeth nip at the skin of her breasts. Her hands clawed at his hair as he sucked on the nipple. “God these will fill up with milk,” He groaned out, but it was too indistinct for her hazy brain to fathom.

His lips trailed down to her stomach as he groaned against the flesh of her stomach, “Such a glorious stomach.” Upon feeling the coarse hairs of his beard, she giggled against him which allowed her to miss his husky moan of, “Gonna swell up with my seed.”

“Andy, please,” She moaned when his lips pressed kisses along the hemline of her pants. “Since you asked so politely,” He hastily shoved off her pants and panties in one go as he placed her thighs to rest on his shoulders, lifting her slightly off the table, while she planted her elbows firmly on the table. “Fuck!” The cuss she let out was dragged out caused by Andy furiously licking from her clit to the opening of her pussy. Her thighs trapped his face firmly, the rough texture of his beard contradicted his silky tongue lapping at the inside of her tight cunt.

“Can eat you all damn day, petal,” He caught the juices she was leaking with every flick of his tongue as his left hand rubbed on her hardened nub; while the other hand lowered his sweatpants until he was able to stroke his erect cock. Feeling her walls close in on his tongue, he smirked as he drove his tongue deeper inside her and rubbed her until she mewled out loud, “Fuck, Andy! I’m cumming!”

His beard was splattered all over his lower face, coating his beard. With a few more final licks, he let her legs fall from his shoulders and hang limply by the edge of the table. Standing up from the dining chair, Andy quickly removed his gray shirt as her hands weakly, but successfully, slid his sweatpants off legs. Her hands jerked his length while looking into him with desire, “Gonna fuck me real good, Andy?”

Loving the way she sultrily said it, he kissed her lips roughly as he pushed her by the hips, closer to the edge of the table. His right hand guided his cock to slide right in her, their tangled tongues moaned out loud upon being intimately connected. She tried to rut her hips against him, wanting to feel more of him. “Oh petal, let me do it for you.”

Both his hands settled on her thighs, using them as leverage to match his harsh thrusts as he slid in and out of her tight canal. Her walls gripped onto him tighter every time he slid back in, making him groan against the skin of her neck. The sting of her nails as they raked down on his back only added to his pleasure as it motivated him to plow her harder and faster, until she felt his tip hit her sweet, sensitive spot.

“‘M so close, Andy,” She whined, accentuating her point by digging her nails into his shoulders. Maybe it was the way she was piercing to his skin, or the way was falling apart under him beautifully, or the fact that he felt confident that after this she was going to be carrying their child, but it drove him feral which was evident when the table moved and shook in time with his relentless thrusts.

“Open that fucking cervix for me, petal,” He moaned out as his hand rubbed her swollen clit, “Let me shoot my seed in you.” Perhaps in the proper mindset, she would have viewed it as a red flag — bringing up marriage and having kids at the first date would have freaked her out. But in the heat of the moment, she found herself submissive and compliant with all his desires.

Her hands pushed his back closer to her, making her rub her stiff nipples against his chest as she begged, “Please, Andy. Cum in me.” And just as she moaned out the last word, she could feel her body tense as she clenched on his cock and cum at the thought.

Smirking, he continued his harsh assault on her pussy as pinched her clit to milk out more of her orgasm. Gasping out, she tried to restabilize her breathing — which was a challenge given that Andy was grunting wildly as his thrusts slowed down while the force remained. Feeling his cum fill her up surprised her, but she didn’t protest it.

Carrying her over to his bedroom, Y/N could feel herself getting tired from their activities. She willed herself not to close her eyes, but sleep seemed so enticing. The way Andy rubbed her back and lay her down on the bed gently didn’t help either. The lawyer smiled upon seeing the peaceful expression on her face; he kissed her forehead before reaching over to the nightstand and fish out the plug he bought and cleaned for her.

The plug was snug inside her as he slid his cock out. Laying down beside her, he cuddled her as he stared at her features, “I just know you’re gonna be pregnant, petal,” Her breathing was even and her closed eyes gave him the impression she was now falling asleep, “I checked your period tracker app, you should be ovulating now. Plus, I have been slipping some vitamins in your food and drink to help make you even more fertile.”

Wiggling around, his breath hitched when she nuzzled her face even more to his chest, “Goodnight, Andy,” Plus a kiss to his chest made his heart swell up even more. Smiling despite the joyous tears leaking in his eyes, he kissed her forehead once more before bidding her goodnight as they both slept.

“Here’s to new beginnings, petal.”

[promenadewithme]

Congratulations on 50 followers!! Could I request Matthia Helvar with Night Changes by One Direction, please? Thanks so much!! 🥰

Thank you, nonie!! I hope you like this!

Pairing: Matthias Helvar x fem!reader

Song: Night Changes - One Direction

Warnings: swearing, protective Matthias, heist!

Word Count: 1,2k

Night Changes

“This one!” said Nina, holding up a revealing red dress. Tonight the crows were going on a heist and your job was to distract one of the merchers, Claudios Vos, long enough for Kaz, Wylan and Inej to get in and out of his estate with the blueprints they needed. Nina and Matthias would stand watch and Jesper would stay at the crow club with you.

“Perfect!” you exclaimed, grabbing the dress and putting it on. Nina then started working on your hair and makeup, saying how much Matthias would love it. You and the fjerdan started dating a while ago, after the Ice Court heist. It took a little time for him to warm up to the crows, but you’ve found out that criminal and near death experiences tend to bring people together.

“I’m done! Saints, you won’t even have to say anything to distract the man!” she giggled and dare you say she was right. You looked stunning! The heartrender had styled your hair in loose curls, painted your lips scarlet and applied black mascara to your eyelashes. You smiled at your reflection, noticing how the dress clung to all the right places. You were never one to show your body, it was a dangerous thing to do in the barrel, so you stuck to loose dark clothes that facilitate movement and left you in the shadows. Not tonight.

Nina grabbed your hand and led you downstairs, where the crows were waiting. Jesper was the first to notice the two of you, emitting a low whistle.

“Hello, gorgeous!” he said, leaning on the counter and you giggled, doing a quick spin. 

Matthias was not smooth as Jesper, turning a deep shade of crimson and thinking ‘everything she never had she’s showing off’. He snaps out of his trance, taking off his jacket and covering your cleavage. 

“No.” he declared.

“No?” you asked in an amused tone.

“No.” he maintained. Then it hit you, he was jealous.

“You like it!” you exclaimed with a grin and Matthias blushed even more if it was possible.

“It doesn’t matter that I like it, it matters that the other men will like it too.” he muttered.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.” chuckled Jesper.

“What do I do if he wants to leave?” you asked Kaz.

“You try to convince him to sleep with you.” he answered, adjusting his gloves.

“What?” Matthias stammered.

“It’s not like he’ll accept.” said Kaz in a monotonous tone.

“In that dress? He’d have to be a very dedicated priest not to accept!” exclaimed Jesper and you hit his arm, giving a warning glare.

“Hey,” you cupped the fjerdan’s chin and looked him in the eyes “I’m yours and I promise I’ll be safe.” he nodded curtly and you gave him back his jacket.

Jesper rubbed his hands together quickly before saying “It’s show time.”

“There he is.” Jesper nodded in the target’s direction, pouring a glass of whiskey for you.

“No mourners,” you murmured.

“No funerals.” he replied quietly and you started walking, or rather stumbling, towards the mercher. You took a small sip of the drink and bumped into the man.

“I’m so terribly sorry,” you slurred and looked up at him “I can be quite clumsy.” he looked you up and down, stopping at your breasts and you had to repress a gag.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing drinking something so strong?” he asked with a disgusting smirk.

“My boyfriend broke up with me.” you pouted exaggeratedly and he mirrored you actions.

“You poor thing... I’m Claudios Vos. Would you like to have a good time?” another gag.

“I’d love that!” you answered excitedly. 

“Come on then, let’s play some poker.” he sat down and pulled you onto his lap.

Three games later, you impressed by how much the man could bluff. 

“You are so smart!” you giggled “How do you remember all the cards?” you asked tilting your head to the side like a helpless puppy. 

“It’s not that hard, sugar cakes.” you had to repress a cringe.

“Can you teach me?” you asked, bashing your lashes.

“Oh no, I don’t think a woman could learn this game.” he said laughing and the other men at the table laughed along. You wanted to kill him, but spilling your drink on him was enough.

“Oh! I am so sorry! Here, let me help you clean that.” he stood up.

“Don’t worry, I’ll just go to the restroom. You go order us a glass of champagne!” he exclaimed and slapped your butt. You had to bite your tongue making your way to Jesper.

“It’s been 5 hours, how much longer will they take?” you asked as the zemni boy grabbed a bottle of champagne and handed it to you.

“The most expensive bottle in the house for that slap.” he said and winked at you. “I’m sure they’ll be back soon.” as soon as he said that, a boy came running into the club.

“Where is Mr Vos?” he cried out.

“Shit.” you mumbled looking back at Jesper.

“Can I not have one night of fun?” he cried out “What is it?” 

“There has been a break in.” the poor boy looked like he was going to pass out.

“Get me my coat.” Vos replied. You made your way to him, trying to keep the man here.

“Where are you going? I thought we were having fun!” you flirted.

“We were, but it seems there has been a break in.” he answered gravely.

“I’m sure your servants can take care of it, why don’t we get a room and have even more fun?” when he smirked down at you with lust in his eyes, fear took over your body. Kaz said he wouldn’t accept! What the hell do I do now?

“What is all the fuss about?” said Kaz, who appeared out of nowhere, and you thanked the saints.

“There has been a robbery, sir.” said the boy.

“Well then, take the confusion outside. Don’t want to scare the pigeons.” then he turned around and went up the stairs, into his office.

“Another day.” affirmed Vos, going out the door. You let out a relieved sigh and went looking for Matthias. After a while, you found him sitting on the roof.

“What are you doing up here? Are you hurt? What happened?” you sat next to him and cupped his face so he would look at you. 

“Everything was going fine, then someone came in and suddenly we were running here, trying not to die. I-” he looked at his hands then back at you “Does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes?”

You sighed. “It’s part of being a crow, the uncertainty, the fear, the possibility of everything that you’ve ever dreamed of disappearing when you wake up.”

“That’s not what I’m afraid of. What if something happened to me tonight, or worse, to you.” he had tears in his eyes.

“My love, as soon as we get enough money we will be out of here. We can live on a farm! Or a boat!” he chuckled and you continued “But, meanwhile, there is nothing to be afraid of, even when the night changes, it will never change me and you.”

He smiled and gave you a tender kiss on the lips. 

“Just a few more heists and we’ll be out of here.” he said, caressing your cheek.

“Just a few more.” you smiled at him, held his hand and leaned you head on his shoulder. Matthias kissed your temple and put his head on top of yours. The two of you looked out at Ketterdam, dreaming about your life away from the barrel. 

General tag list: @for-bebbanburg @power-of-words23 

Grishaverse tag list: send me an ask if you want to be added

Matthias Helvar tag list: send me an ask if you want to be added

[detectiveriley]

oh, because i love you (Geraskier Mini-Fic for Witcher Bog Exchange)

This is a mini-exchange gift for @stinastar​! I hope you like it lovely!

Archive link here

Rating: Teen and up audiences Fandom: The Witcher (all media types) Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier Additional Tags: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Feelings, Getting Together, Sleepy Cuddles, Canon-Typical Violence

Description: It was incredibly stupid, Jaskier realizes belatedly, to go wandering around the abandoned ruins, at night, alone. To his relief, Geralt comes to his rescue. Jaskier hasn't seen Geralt in full witcher mode before, but it's Geralt. He'll get used to it. But he's not sure what to make of the conversation that follows.

Story under the cut!

 All of the air left Jaskier’s body as the sonic shriek threw him all the way across the stone circle. He slammed into the wall before tumbling to the ground. Pain radiated from everywhere, and he was pretty sure he was bleeding. It had been incredibly stupid, Jaskier realized belatedly, to wander out near the abandoned ruins, at night, alone.

 It hadn’t been his plan, originally. They had just made camp near the town where there was supposed to be work. But Geralt had been busy doing his witcher-ing, and Jaskier had gotten bored. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy watching Geralt working. On the contrary, Jaskier enjoyed the way Geralt carefully sharpened his swords, and sorted his potions with calloused fingers. But Jaskier could imagine plenty of other things Geralt could be doing with his hands. Things that Geralt probably wouldn’t approve of. So that night, before his trousers got any tighter, Jaskier excused himself to go on a walk and clear his head. He didn’t think Geralt had even noticed.

 That was how Jaskier had ended up all alone, facing off against a monster. He had nothing with which to defend himself, not even his lute. The thing, which looked like a young woman but wasn’t, had caught him off-guard.

 She was watching him now, with a bone-chilling smile and hungry eyes. Jaskier struggled to prop himself up. His ribs, along with the rest of him, twinged in protest. The collision with the crumbling stone wall hadn’t finished him off, but it seemed likely that the she-beast would. His vision swam and he groaned, blinking.

 When his eyes focused again, there was a shadow above him. Craning his neck, he saw a black mass, underneath a halo of white. Then it turned, and Jaskier’s heart skipped.

 “Ge-r-ralt,” he managed, his lips curling into a bloody smile, maybe Jaskier should have been frightened. He’d never seen Geralt like this before- eyes pitch black, dark veins reaching out around them across his pale, mottled skin. He could see now where the rumors came from- that witchers were monsters, half-breeds of some dark magic that bound the flesh of beasts to human bone. If he did not know Geralt, perhaps he would have been petrified. Perhaps he would have screamed.

 But Jaskier had never been more relieved.

 Now that he was no longer facing certain death, Jaskier faded in and out of consciousness. Dimly, he heard the sounds of fierce combat, the monster shrieking and Geralt grunting with effort. His eyes flew open when Geralt landed next to  him, shouting in pain and anger.

 “G’ralt?” he slurred, even as darkness crept in around the edges of his vision.

 “M’fine,” the witcher growled, shaking his head and crouching to strike again. “Stay down.”

 Jaskier obeyed gladly. Geralt was there now, he was safe. Probably. He sent a quick prayer up to Melitele with his last conscious thought before darkness claimed him.

 ~

 When Jaskier awoke again, he was no longer splayed against the cold, hard rock or the ruin’s floor. He was in bed. He was still in pain, but marginally less so. And he wasn’t alone.

 Geralt was watching him like a hawk. He looked… not great. His potions, whatever they were, had since worn off, and he looked like himself again. But he looked like he hadn’t slept.

 Jaskier tried to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse cough. Wordlessly, Geralt handed him a glass of water from the bedside table. He waited as Jaskier downed it greedily. He didn’t remember being so thirsty at the ruins.

 “How long was I out?” he wondered aloud.

 “A day and a half,” Geralt answered, “You went down pretty hard.”

 Wincing, Jaskier nodded. “I was there, I remember.”

 “How do you feel?”

 Geralt’s brow was furrowed with concern. Jaskier straightened and assured him, “I feel fine. Could be worse. But we’re both alive! And safe.”

 Geralt tensed at that, and Jaskier held his breath.      Here it comes    , he thought. The dreaded lecture about himself in harm’s way, and how he couldn’t always rely on Geralt to rescue him.

 Instead, Geralt simply said, “You didn’t look afraid.”

 Jaskier tilted his head. “Well, I      was,     but when you showed up… then I knew I’d be alright.”

 “No.” Geralt’s voice was abnormally soft, and he was looking down at his hands. “I meant that you didn’t look like you were afraid of me.”

 Jaskier blinked. Then he laughed. “Why would I- I’ve never been afraid of you, why would I have been afraid?”

 Geralt seemed to shrink. “The way I looked that night, at the ruins…” He trailed off. After a long moment, Geralt added, “I’m a monster.”

 Jaskier scoffed. “Are not.”

 “Jaskier…”

 “You are not! The only monster there that night was the thing that actively tried to kill me, and you saved me. That makes you a hero.”

 “That’s not what everyone else thinks.”

 Jaskier furrowed his brow. “I don’t give a flying fuck what everyone else thinks.”

 Geralt actually laughed at that. Jaskier smiled back. He knew that the witcher could be hard on himself, and it broke Jaskier’s heart. The idea that Geralt thought Jaskier should be afraid of him was unbearable.

 The bard hesitated. Perhaps he was still bleary from sleep, perhaps it was a concussion. He wasn’t sure he should say what he wanted to say next. But he’d be damned if he said nothing.

 “I hope you know that, no matter what- black, witcher-y eyes, covered in monster guts or blood- that you’ll always be Geralt to me.” He reached out to take Geralt’s hand in his own. “      My    Geralt. Do you understand?”

 The witcher nodded curtly. “I think so.” After a moment, he continued. “Witchers… don’t get happy endings,” he said, his voice low and tender, “We age, we slow, and we die, in combat usually. I don’t know what end awaits me, but… I didn’t think I’d make any friends between now and then.”

 Jaskier swallowed. Right.      Friends    . He moved to pull away, but Geralt’s grip on his hand tightened. Geralt turned it over so their palms were pressed together. “I used to think… Hmm. Fuck.”

 Jaskier smiled gently. There was that gruff but earnest spirit that had endeared the witcher so closely to Jaskier’s heart. He stroked the back of Geralt’s hand with his thumb. “Take your time.”

 After another few minutes, Geralt spoke again. “I thought once that you just followed me for inspiration, and stayed for coin. And I let you, because… well, you didn’t leave me much choice.” They both chuckled at that. “But… you’ve given me more than I deserve.”

 Tilting his head, Jaskier asked, “How so?”

 “You’ve become… someone I care for,” Geralt offered quietly, “which most witcher’s don’t have the luxury of. But… you seem to care for me, too. More than I’ve earned. In equal measure.”

 “Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier sighed, leaning forward to cup Geralt’s cheek with his free hand. “I care for you quite a bit more than that.”

 Geralt’s eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into Jaskier’s touch, humming. It was closer than they’d ever been, and Jaskier’s heart quickened at the thought of it.

 Geralt noticed immediately. Gingerly, he placed Jaskier’s hand back at his side. “Get some rest. We can continue this when you’re better.”

 “You should, too,” Jaskier admonished, “I adore you, dear heart, but you look like shit.”

 Geralt smirked, chuckling in response. “That’s nothing new.”

 Jaskier’s eyes softened. “But really, when was the last time you slept?” When Geralt didn’t answer for a few moments, Jaskier sighed and adjusted himself, scooting to the far side of the bed, before patting the space beside him. “All right, come on then.” Geralt hesitated, and Jaskier added, “It doesn't have to mean anything. Just rest. You very obviously need it.”

 Geralt sighed before relenting, laying down next to Jaskier with care so as not to aggravate the bard’s injuries. To Jaskier’s surprise, Geralt threw an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders and pulled him in. When Jaskier gave him a look, Geralt sighed.

 “I almost lost you back there,” he murmured, “so I’ve gotta keep an eye on you. Keep you out of trouble.”

 Jaskier laughed. “Obviously. You’ll stay with me then?”

 “Always.”

fin