#but its ready and nice for me to print for whenever i might get a table | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingstylesdaily · 4 years ago

Text

Playtime With Harry Styles

via vogue.com

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy, setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboard charts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicks album cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness, is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style transformation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’ ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matches.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Diana bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

378 notes · View notes

goldentournesol · 4 years ago

Text

The Receptionist and The Profiler (Three)

Chapter Three: Minimal Loss

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/N: as a heads up, a large part of this chapter is a flashback, separated by ~~~. angst of minimal loss, buckle up y’all it’s getting serious!

Some cases don’t require the whole team to go investigate. Sometimes a few members go out to consult on something and come right back. Apparently, a 911 call had been received from a 15 year old girl saying that a man was sexually assaulting her and other girls her age. The call came from inside a cult’s base and now Spencer and Emily were sent to the ranch to investigate the leader, Benjamin Cyrus. Y/N selfishly wanted to tell Hotch to send someone else in place of him, but she knew Spencer was the least intimidating of the bunch and so it made sense for him to go undercover as a child victim interview expert alongside Emily.

Y/N watched as JJ zoomed straight past her desk and stood behind Derek’s desk, “Morgan.” she said, flicking the volume button of the TV across the room, panic fighting its way through her voice.

Morgan and Y/N’s attention went straight to the news reporter on the TV, “--what is reportedly being called a routine questions and answers meeting by Colorado child services has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a French religious group known as Separtatian sect. The raid--”

“JJ, that’s not the ranch Prentiss and Reid--” Morgan said, standing from his desk.

“They’re still inside.” JJ informed.

“HOTCH!” Morgan yelled across from the bullpen, sending panic and goosebumps to every nerve ending in Y/N’s body. All she could think was, not again, please, God, not again.

Suddenly, all the phones of the bullpen began ringing. Y/N was absolutely frozen in her seat, not even aware of the phone on her desk ringing its wire off. It was like the air was heavy and she couldn’t breathe. She was vaguely aware of JJ’s outline as she approached her and placed her hands on her shoulders.

“Y/N. Y/N!” JJ called out as if she’d been calling her name for hours already, for all she knew, she had. Y/N unexpectedly felt a salty bead of water enter her mouth through her lips, she was crying.

“JJ...not again, JJ.” She practically whimpered, shaking her head in disbelief. The blonde’s heart wrenched in her chest as she thought back to the events of Georgia.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. We’re on our way to him right now. We’re going to do our best to get them out. I need you to stay strong for me now, alright? The phone’s going to be ringing a lot, we need you here.” JJ attempted to comfort her and Y/N was quick to compose herself, nodding.

“Yes, yes, I know. I’ve got it.” She sniffled, rubbing her cheeks. JJ pulled her into a quick tight hug, well, as tight as she could with her growing belly between them. Y/N squeezed her tight, “You get him back to me safely, JJ.” She whispered and the blonde nodded before taking off with the rest of the team.

“Is she okay?” Morgan muttered to JJ as they speed walked out of the building, secretly wondering if that’s how friends should react to hostage situations.

“I’m not sure.” JJ answered honestly and the two shared a pointed look.

It was no secret that there was something going on between Y/N and Reid, they knew they held intense feelings for each other, however the team decided to stay out of it...for the most part. Derek, on the other hand, was very good at not missing opportunities to mess with Reid and tease the hell out of him.

It took Spencer a while to get back on his feet, especially after Gideon had departed, but Y/N helped him every step of the way. She drove him to NA meetings whenever she could. She helped him take his mind of things when he was having cravings. She finally, finally agreed to learn how to play chess, even though she was positive she was destined to lose. She’ll never forget how excited he got when she’d offered.

~~~

“Wait--what?” Spencer stopped mid-sip from his morning coffee. The team hadn’t filed in yet, but he was hanging around her desk like he usually did when she told him.

“Yup, you heard me. I’ll let you finally teach me how to play.” Her eyes twinkled with playfulness and he could have sworn his heart swelled twice its size. He was aware that he was gaping at her, but for some reason he couldn’t stop. The thought of sitting across from her so closely and for so long as he tried to teach her the moves was enough to make him forget his words.

“Hello? Earth to Spencer?” She laughed, waving a hand in front of his face. He snapped out of it, blushing.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll teach you! We’re going to have so much fun!” He exclaimed, his face practically splitting in half from his grin. She was about to make a comment about how it wouldn’t be so fun to lose to him (the whole point of not wanting to learn it in the first place), but she decided the genuine excitement on his face was worth more than winning ever would be.

~~~

She also remembered him practically fangirling to her over David Rossi’s books. He was so excited when the other founder of the BAU joined the team in place of Gideon. Of course, Spencer had read all his books and was more than ready to recite them to her if she wanted him to but she preferred to keep the crime and the gore at a minimum, preferring to hear about Victorian love stories and obscure children’s stories that are told in African villages she’d never heard of before. Rossi was a fairly nice man, much warmer than Gideon but was still somewhat cagey upon joining the team. She didn’t really blame him, he’d left the job only to come back to it years later and find a bunch of younger hotshot agents in the unit he created. At least Rossi took the time to learn her name and smile at her in the mornings.

Sometimes he’d sit and watch the two interact from his office. He’d assumed they were together when he’d first joined the team, almost a year ago now. Seeing how they leaned into each other when they spoke and maintained such intense eye contact, it just made sense to him. That and the fact that he’d noticed the way Reid was so much more comfortable around her than he was with his team mates. He’d note the not-so-subtle lingering hand touches on arms and the way they chose not to move their knees away from each other if they bumped. But, most of all, what he thought was a dead giveaway, was the way they smiled at each other; they smiled with their whole faces. Spencer’s mood seemed to brighten around her and even though he hadn’t known the young genius for long, he knew that that was a good sign. If he hadn’t seen Y/N and Anderson getting in the same car together, he’d never have guessed that they were together, much less engaged. You don’t need to be a profiler to know what the longing glances across the bullpen meant, though. Or the sad eyes she gave him every time he left for a case. Or the hug she gave that was obviously tighter than anyone else’s when they came back.

Hopefully, he’ll come back this time.

Y/N was practically a mess at her desk after they all left. She was glad that Anderson was currently not around, then she remembered she should be wanting his presence. That is...assuming he brought her comfort. He didn’t. She took calls to try and distract herself from her panic but she found herself freaking out in between them. Her eyes traveled to the far corner of her desk where the book she was currently reading sat. She smiled as she saw the tassel fall from in between the pages of the book. The book felt heavy as she opened it, she slipped the bookmark from in between the pages, and pushed the book aside. The raised letters of her favorite poem felt familiar as her fingertips touched them. She touched the words as if they could seep into her bloodstream and finally calm her. She remembered the day he gave her the bookmark.

~~~

After years and years of participating in the office Secret Santa, Spencer finally got Y/N. He was overjoyed, in fact, he couldn’t wait to give her her gift. He had it meticulously planned out. He was ready. He poured out his heart and soul in a letter first (this took the longest). Turns out, confessing your undying love for someone wasn’t as easy as it looked on screen. With all the letters he’d written in his lifetime, he was positive this one would be no different. But, man, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Then, he made the bookmark. Store bought would never impress her. He struggled with finding the right kind of paper and the right kind of string for the tassel, but thankfully Garcia had his back. She even helped him laminate it so it could last, for years and years. The way he wanted to last with her. He printed the words of her favorite poem. One that he’d never forget, and not even because of his eidetic memory. He chose a shiny gold string to represent the strings of fate. He had told her once the ancient Greek myth of the Moirai, the three women responsible for fate. Although he’d gone in way too great of detail, she hung onto every word. He knew she’d remember the story whenever she saw the gold string. He hoped she might pick up on what he was trying to say.

That fate would always bring them together.

That he knew that she was it for him, but if he wasn’t it for her, that’d be okay, too.

She’d also complained all too often about the nasty coffee at work, claiming that she wished she never tasted the “vile bean juice”. It was enough to shift her off of coffee completely, unless it was from the coffee shop on the corner of Spencer’s street (he took her there a lot and he liked to bring her her favorite drink in the mornings when he wasn’t rushing in). But she’d recently gotten into teas, and was annoyed at her teapot at home because she said it just tasted weird. So of course, he researched the best kind of teapot possible and hunted every single kitchenware store in DC down until he found it. She’s gonna love it.

To top it all off, he decided to get her a necklace. While looking for the teapot, a small silver necklace caught his eye in one of the shops. A small birthstone hung by two chains, he recognized it as her own, and it was perfect.

He placed the gifts and the letter inside the teapot carefully and placed two pieces of tape to ensure the top doesn’t come off in the box before making his way to Garcia’s apartment. It was really no surprise she decided to host the Christmas party, considering her love of all things Christmas. He was buzzing with nervous energy as he set the gift box under the tree. He was the first to arrive, which meant he had to endure Garcia’s endless questions about the finished gift. She pried it all out of him, even the letter. Garcia was practically jumping up and down as he told her about the contents of the letter. He didn’t know he and Y/N were such a hot topic around the office. A few minutes later, the team flowed in, one by one. Y/N and Anderson were the last to arrive.

But something felt different as they entered the apartment. Her smile was brighter than usual and she seemed extra comfortable around her fiance. He thought maybe he was reading into it too much, but then even Emily noticed.

“Woah, Y/N! You look literally radiant, what’s going on?” She asked as the couple struggled to find places to sit. Anderson found a seat on the couch and offered her his lap. Spencer watched as she blushed and pursed her lips shyly, leaning into her fiancé as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Spencer practically had a nervous ugly green creature growing inside of him. He’s decided to name him Carl. Might as well name him, you know, since he seemed to be around a lot lately. He shifted in his seat a little, which made Morgan glance over at him.

“Well, we were going to wait until later to tell everyone, but I guess that’s the downside to being friends with profilers.” She laughed and shared a look with Anderson, whose hand was grasped tightly in hers.

Spencer noticed her change in vocabulary, she said ‘we’ instead of ‘I’. He grew more and more nervous as the pause lengthened. He had to physically put his hands on his knees to keep them from bouncing.

“We finally set the date! Next August!” She exclaimed and Spencer’s heart absolutely combusted in the same exact moment.

He immediately drowned out the cheers of congratulations and kisses on cheeks. The sinking feeling in his chest seemed to strive for more. More destruction.

He was vaguely aware of Morgan grabbing his shoulder and giving him a pointed look, reminding him of his silence. Morgan felt bad for the kid, but didn’t want to embarrass Y/N. Spencer snapped out of his trance and swallowed heavily.

��Congratulations, guys.” He mustered a smile and she beamed at him.

“Thanks, Spence!” He barely registered it.

It was finally happening.

The wedding.

And he’d have to go.

And see her.

And smile at her like his heart hadn’t been ripped from his chest and placed at the altar for everyone to see as it beat for absolutely no reason.

Seriously, what was the point of his heart beating if it wasn’t beating for her?

Except, he knew it’ll always beat for her, even if she didn’t want it.

He’d have to watch her marry another man.

Watch as she walked away from him rather than toward him.

Everyone pretended not to look at Spencer but he could feel the glances anyway.

Oh no.

The letter.

The letter that was in the teapot under the tree!

Spencer didn’t know his heart was capable of beating as fast as it was. He sent a panicked look to Penelope, hoping she’d get the message, but she was too busy coming up with wedding ideas. Spencer could feel panic oozing out of the pores of his skin. Morgan took him aside and into the kitchen.

“Kid, you alright?” Morgan asked, watching as his younger teammate squirmed in the kitchen.

“This is bad, Morgan. This is bad.” Spencer paced around the kitchen, hands in his hair.

“I know, kid, I know. But you need to calm down.” Morgan tried to reason with him.

“No, Morgan! You don’t understand!” Spencer whisper-yelled as he gripped his shoulders and Morgan saw his wild eyes, “You don’t understand! The letter!”

Morgan steadied Spencer, “Reid, breathe. What letter?”

“I’m her secret Santa. I wrote her a letter, Morgan. I wrote her a letter, a letter which contains very sensitive information that she cannot read right now--o-or ever!” Spencer’s hands flew to his hair again and Morgan had to think quickly.

“Okay, okay. I’ll help you, we need to think of a way to get the letter out of the box.”

“Morgan, it’s inside the teapot-- which is taped shut by the way-- inside the box, under the tree!” He flailed around nervously.

“Damn, man. Okay, just follow my lead. When she opens her gift, I’ll distract her and Anderson and you have to get that letter out.”

Spencer nodded and when they joined the rest of them outside, people were already opening their gifts, one by one. Spencer waited anxiously as she began to unwrap her gift.

“Oooh, I’m excited!” She said, carefully unwrapping the wrapping paper and opening the box, still seated on Anderson’s lap. She gasped, “It’s a teapot!”

Spencer grimaced as he watched Morgan fake a trip and spill his drink all over Anderson’s shirt, getting some on Y/N’s back.

“Shit, man! I’m so sorry!” Morgan glanced at Spencer and Spencer jumped into action as the couple were distracted by the spilled drink. He quickly unstuck the tape on the teapot and lifted the lid enough to squeeze his hand through to remove the letter. He stashed it away in the pocket of his cardigan. In fact, he planned on burning it when he got home. He successfully restored the gift to how it was before they returned from the bathroom.

“No one says a word.” Reid warned the rest of the group, who were watching the whole debacle like it was a spectacle. They all undoubtedly figured out what was written in that letter, therefore they understood and nodded.

“Not a peep.” Garcia said, locking her lips with an imaginary key.

“Anyway! Now that that’s all sorted out. Back to the teapot.” Y/N came back to her gift and her seating arrangement.

“Um, you should...you should look inside. There’s um, bonus gifts.” Spencer was absolutely beet-red in the face.

But Y/N knew the gift was from Spencer the second she saw the wrapping paper, which was full of adorable snowmen dressed in Christmas clothing. She grinned, remembering the argument between them which started by her telling him how cute she thought snowmen wearing clothes was and him getting frustrated trying to explain to her how snowmen wouldn’t need protection from the cold. She opened up the teapot and pulled out the bookmark. Spencer watched her eyes soften as they roamed over the words of her favorite poem. She toyed with the gold string of the bookmark as she reached into the pot again and pulled out the small pouch that contained the necklace. She pulled it out and gasped.

“Oh, Spencer, it’s all so perfect. Thank you.” She moved the gifts aside and wrapped him in a hug. Spencer stopped listening to the persistent ache in his chest as he hugged her back. He let all his senses be consumed by her, just temporarily. He found peace in that moment and he tried his hardest to hold onto that peace as he watched her fiancé clip the necklace onto her neck.

Oh, what he’d give to be in Anderson’s place.

~~~

She smiled at the memory the bookmark brought. She found her fingers weaving themselves through the gold strings gingerly. That seemed to calm her nerves enough for now. Garcia had convinced her to go home finally after promising to call her and let her know if anything changed.

2 days.

It was 2 days before she heard any news. She had been cooped up with Garcia in her batcave for emotional support. Also she wanted to know about any advancements as soon as possible. Garcia and Y/N were currently watching a live feed from some news channel.

“Damn, how did he know there were FBI agents in there? Word travels--” Garcia began but the explosion on screen cut her off. Y/N stood up from her seat abruptly.

“What was that?! Garcia, was that the ranch?!” Y/N all but screamed with panic, “Penelope! Answer me!” Garcia’s stunned face was paired with teary eyes as she turned to look at Y/N. Garcia frantically called Hotch and Rossi, but no one answered.

“No, no, no. NO! This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening, Penelope. Are we sure Spencer and Emily were still inside?” Y/N’s voice wavered as she held her hands to her chest in disbelief. Garcia shrugged honestly and wordlessly.

“NO!” She began sobbing uncontrollably, falling to her knees, mumbling nearly incoherently, “I never got to tell him...I never got to tell him.”

Garcia fell to the floor, holding the sobbing woman as best as she could without falling apart herself. Y/N gripped her tight as she felt the walls closing in on her. Her chest felt tight and she suddenly felt as if the air was ripped from her lungs. She could hear strangled sobs, but wasn’t even registering that they were her own.

It was too late.

She’d never see his smiling hazel eyes again. She’d never hear his hearty laugh once more. She never told him. She never told him how deeply her love for him ran. What was she waiting for? She’d waited too long. How utterly stupid of her. And now there’s no chance. He’s gone...he’s pulverized into bits and pieces--

The phone rang and Garcia leapt to it ungracefully, “Sir?! Reid and Prentiss--”

“They’re okay, Garcia. They made it out in time. With Morgan.” Hotch said sternly.

“Morgan was in there?!” Garcia screamed into the phone.

“Yeah, but I’m alright, babygirl, don’t you worry ‘bout me.” Morgan’s silky voice was heard from farther away. Garcia was about to reply when Y/N snatched the phone from her.

“Spencer?! Spence, are you there? Are you okay?!” She half-sobbed into the phone, not wanting her voice to give her away completely.

“Yes, yeah, I’m here. I’m alive.” Spencer choked out, relief flooding her system as she heard his voice. He was very much still alive and breathing, albeit with difficulty. Y/N didn’t register the rest of the conversation between Hotch and Garcia. She lay back in her seat and buried her face in her hands, trying to control her breathing. Garcia hung up and rested a kind hand onto her shoulder.

“Whew, that was a close one.” She said with a small smile. Y/N took her hands off her face and met with her warm eyes, “You know you’ll have to tell him eventually.” Y/N froze in her place again. She suddenly avoided her friend’s gaze. She was really hoping she hadn’t caught onto that. “It’s okay, pumpkin, we can all see it.”

She was right, oh my God, she was right.

“No, I don’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re wrong, whatever you think you know, you’re wrong.” Y/N felt bad saying those words but there was nothing else she could do to protect herself. Garcia stayed silent, but gave her a look that shook Y/N at her very core.

Later, on the jet, Morgan took a seat next to Reid and stared at him intently before speaking.

“So, a little birdie tells me your girl was pretty heartbroken…” He trailed off, but not without an obvious wiggle of his dark brows.

“Morgan, for the last time, she is not ‘my girl’, she is engaged. She is very much someone else’s girl.” Reid rolled his eyes, attention going back to his book, although he tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered at the thought. He didn’t know if his heart was fluttering because of what Morgan called her, or because she was so torn up about the thought of him dying. He knew he shouldn’t ever feel good about someone else’s pain, but what did her pain mean?

“So what? Engaged ain’t married, pretty boy.” Morgan shrugged, saying it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Spencer shook his head at his friend.

Back in the bullpen, Y/N waited for their arrival ever so anxiously by the glass doors across from the elevator. She was rolling onto the balls of her feet and bouncing with anticipation. It didn’t even matter that it was half past 3 in the morning. She had to see him.

The ding of the elevator was the most comforting noise she’d heard in about a week. There he was, way in the back of the elevator, lifting his gaze from the floor to meet with hers. They both broke into the largest grins they’ve ever seen. She practically pushed Morgan out of her speedy way as he stepped off the elevator and slammed into Spencer with enough force to knock the air out of the both of their chests. Spencer caught her gladly and spun her around, laughing.

“I thought I lost you.” Y/N whispered into the embrace.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Spencer replied softly into her hair.

The team all watched the reunion, adoration clear on their faces.

Emily was caught mumbling, “Damn, I wish I had someone to greet me like that after almost dying.” This, of course, resulted in a full blown bear hug from Garcia.

previous chapter/next chapter

feedback is always appreciated!

taglist: @hopefulfangirl24 @spoiledtunaprincess @ellvswriting @drreidshands @pumpkin-reads @ssa-pretty-boy @thebadassbitchqueen @youareperrrfectls @literaila @greeny-kitten @reidcm @holytrashvoidpersona @hopebaker @word-scribbless @fellintotartarus @criminalmindzjunkie @jpegjade @randomfandomshitposts @differentkettleoffishalltogether @ssa-pretty-boy @imjusthereformggcontent @ confused-and-really-hungry

COMMENT ON THE CHAPTERS/SEND ASKS TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #cm #spencer reid masterlist #the receptionist and the profiler #spencer reid series

394 notes · View notes

macnevercries · 4 years ago

Note

So for my request, can you write a story with Toshinori and a male reader practicing exhibition please? In the story, Toshi would do errands with the reader while wearing nothing but a trenchcoat, sandals and a face mask. In truth, Toshi is butt naked underneath with his cock in chastity, a vibrator and his mouth tape gagged. The reader would tease & taunt him in public. His goal is to finish his errands without anyone catching them or him cumming in public. What do you think?

Warnings- exhibition, d/s, established relationship, degrading, oral (receiving), dom reader, male reader

Word count- 1k

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“You ready to go Toshi?” You smile at the man of boney stature, still quite tall despite being in his original form. He looked over to you from his spot in front of the mirror. His legs were shaking, you weren’t sure if he was nervous or excited but either way you were doing this.

“Y-yeah” he mumbled. His chastity belt felt a little tight, he was excited already. The vibrator you had stuffed up his ass wasn’t on but he almost moaned at how full he felt. All of this was hidden under his tan trench coat that barely went past his knees.

You came up behind him and taped a gag over his mouth, silencing his quiet whines. Sliding his mask up over his nose, you caressed his cheek lovingly.

“You’re such a good boy doing this for me Toshi, we’re gonna go run some errands and you’re gonna behave yourself okay?” you ask, already knowing his answer. He gives you a hurried nod, excited for what’s to come.

As you two walk around town, visiting the laundromat, post office and the bank you mess with the remote of his vibrator. Whenever you play with the settings he jumps a little, his legs quivering as he leans into you for stability so he doesn’t fall if they give out. You could feel your pants tightening at his adorable behavior. Who knew the ex-number one hero would get off on exhibition?

Your next destination was the grocery store, the last errand before you guys head home. You walked inside the store, strolling around and making Toshinori bend over to get your groceries, leaning back to get a nice view of his ass every time. He returned to the cart you were standing by with apples in his hands, his walk a little crooked from all his failed stimulation. Right before he reached the cart you turned the vibrator on its highest setting, causing him to drop the apples and fall over.

“Tsk” you muttered, leaning down to pick up the apples and place them with the rest of your stuff before helping him up. He clung to you desperately as his legs shook. You noticed a little drippage on the floor and you were taken aback. Had he come from the vibrator or from drawing attention to his barely covered form?

“You weren’t supposed to come Toshi, you decided to be a bad boy huh?” you spat in his ear, a quiet rage in your voice.

“mmmmh” he couldn’t help but groan, he felt too good. If you stayed here any longer people might start to notice. You pulled his slumped form up so he was standing straight, dragging him and your shopping cart into the nearest bathroom. Your cock was throbbing, but he didn’t need to know that, he needed to be punished.

You pushed him into the single person bathroom, practically ripping open his trench coat as soon as you locked the door. You undid his chastity belt and inspected his still hard length. The tip was red and pulsing, the entire thing was sticky with his cum.

“You broke the rules Toshi” you sighed, you were angry but you were buzzing with adrenaline. Seeing your partner desperate and getting off from other people seeing him like this, it excited you.

“You’re going to have to make it up to me, on you knees now” He scrambled to sit in front of you, setting himself so he was facing the painfully hard tent in your pants. Your removed his mask and ripped the tape off, earning a whimper from him. You grinned.

“Just like that, I know you can make it up to me, I know you can take my cock Toshi” He practically drooled at your words, his quick hands started unzipping your pants until you slapped them away.

“Use your mouth” you growled. He mewled in response, tucking his hands behind his back and unzipping your jeans with his teeth. He looked so pretty for you like this, so dirty. When your cock sprung out against your stomach he moaned loudly at the sight. You laughed at his reaction.

“Be as loud as you want baby, after all you want people to know don’t you?” you sneered. He quivered at your harshness, shaking with anticipation.

He licked the side of your cock, tracing circles around the tip lightly. You couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed a fistful of his hair and used his face to your liking. He hollowed out his cheeks so he could take all of you, spamming and gagging as he did so. The way his throat contracted around you felt like heaven. Your head had been nodded back in pleasure but when your eyes snap down to your lover, you find him touching yourself. You slap him hard enough to leave a red mark, a hot stinging hand print engraved on his face.

“Who said you could touch yourself slut” you snapped.

“Are you really suck a cock-hungry whore that you get turned on by sucking me off? Pathetic” your words only drove him on, his dick was overflowing with pre.

He tucked his hands behind his back and you continue to fuck his face like he was a doll. A few more gags around your length has you cumming, shooting your hot seed down his throat and closing his mouth after pulling out.

“Swallow” you state. Toshinori saw a dark look in your eyes and he was unsure if it was lust or rage. Or both.

You tucked yourself back into your pants and helped your boyfriend up and get redressed.

“Seems like you made it up to me this time, now if you can make it out of this grocery store without cumming again then just maybe I’ll give you a present when we get home.” You told him, his eyes trained your lips, nodding eagerly at your deal. You left the bathroom and continued shopping, teasing him every once in a while.

People stopped to stare, pointing at the two of you. But that was what he wanted wasn’t it?

#mha #bnha #x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #all might #male reader #dom reader #bnha toshinori #yagi toshinori

124 notes · View notes

pressedinthepages · 3 years ago

Text

Scene

next fill for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

also big thanks to @major-trouble for beta-ing and @sometimesiwrite and @rawrkinjd , as well as friends in the Cake Shop for helping me spin this story together <3

Prompt: Remote/Magical Toys

Relationship: Geralt/Eskel

Rating: Explicit

Content Warnings: modern au, soft dom/sub play, subspace, domspace, public sex (kinda), marking, bruising, reverse stripping (aka getting dressed), dressing each other, edging, orgasm denial, frottage, penetrative and oral sex (m/m)

Summary: After a hard day, Geralt found his husband, Eskel, getting ready to treat him to a relaxing evening out.

Geralt sighed as he pressed the garage control that was hooked onto his visor. He leaned his head back against the well-worn interior for just a moment before pulling out his keys from the ignition and pushing open the driver’s door. The bed creaked as its weight resettled from Geralt rising out of the truck. He pushed the door shut with his hip, wincing a bit as the hinges groaned. Gotta add WD-40 to the list.

He ran his hand down the line of his jaw, scratching the tired skin lightly. His feet hurt, his back hurt, hells, even his eyes felt strained on the drive home in the light from the late afternoon sun. But even before he opened the door that led into the house, Geralt could feel the low thrum of music being played just a bit too loud, and he wouldn’t have been able to suppress the grin on his lips if he tried. Eskel was cleaning.

Something low and cozy unfurled itself in Geralt’s stomach, stretching out languidly in the relief of feeling at home. Eskel, with his broad shoulders and penchant for wearing trousers that were just a tad bit too snug around his bum, was just beyond that door, tidying his big ol’ heart away while waiting for Geralt’s return. Coming home to his husband never failed to make Geralt’s knees wobbly with affection and sweet words spill unbidden into the air. No matter what had happened that day, no matter how drained Geralt felt before he crossed the threshold into their home, Eskel was somehow always exactly what he needed.

And it varied. A lot. Some days, Geralt needed soft words and cuddles on the couch that stretched into the pastel lights of pre-dawn. Other days, Geralt needed Eskel’s sharp wit and bold hands that took him apart atop their crimson bed sheets. And still others, such as this day that found Geralt, he didn’t really know what he needed. He was really looking forward to their dinner out, a chance to relax and unwind without any of the outside world pressuring in, but he couldn’t quite place where he needed his head to be to feel at peace.

Geralt shook his head fondly as he turned the brass knob, stepping through and letting it click shut behind him. The sweet, crisp scent of Pinesol greeted him as he walked into the house before toeing off his work boots in the laundry room. Geralt’s socked feet padded quietly out into the hallway, following the sound of instrumental lo-fi playing through a speaker towards the kitchen, where he was met with a pair of fiery golden eyes and a palm facing him, willing him to stop in his tracks.

“AH, ah, don’t come into the kitchen. Just mopped,” Eskel smiled as Geralt backed away with a smirk, his own palms turned up in peace. “Just have this last corner to hit and then I’m good to go.”

Geralt hummed and leaned on the frame of the doorway, his eyes tracking down the swell of Eskel’s arms at the seams of his well-worn henley, the dark hair flopping down into his eyes with just the hint of a little curl at the ends. Eskel turned his back to him and pushed the mop into the corner, scooting backwards bit by bit.

“Hair’s getting long,” Geralt drawled. “You’ll be needing some of my hair ties soon enough.”

Eskel huffed and glanced over his shoulder, still swiping back and forth across the floor and blowing his hair away from his eyes. “Got an appointment next week for a trim, it’s gettin’ to be a bit mu-”

“Cancel it,” Geralt whispered as Eskel reached the edge of the tile and his bum knocked into Geralt’s hips. Geralt set his hands on Eskel’s waist as he stood to his full height. One of his hands trailed up Eskel’s back and tangled into the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “I like it long like this…”

Eskel hummed from low in his chest, rumbling back into Geralt. “I’ll think about it.”

Geralt pressed his lips into the hollow of Eskel’s neck. “Please do. We should get ready for dinner.”

Eskel nodded and swallowed thickly, taking a calming breath before reaching for the mop bucket and toting it back into the laundry room. He wiped the sweat from his brow, the echo of Geralt’s lips still floating on his neck. He heard the low hum of the water heater kick on as Geralt got into the shower, so he unceremoniously dumped out the dirty water and left the mop propped up to dry.

He puttered around briefly, rinsing off his hands and patting them dry on his jeans as popped back into the kitchen, keeping his feet light as he grabbed a glass from the cabinet. He quickly filled it with ice and water from the dispenser in the refrigerator before walking back down the hallway towards their bedroom. Eskel pondered as he walked, honing in on Geralt’s disposition. He had clearly been in a good enough mood to be a tease, but Eskel wasn’t blind. He could see the dark circles tinging the tender skin under Geralt’s eyes, the weight of his consciousness dangling heavily from his solar plexus and pressing behind his ears.

Eskel moved over to the bedside table and set the glass of water down and left his phone to charge before walking to their closet. He had an idea, and a damned good one at that. He just needed to move quickly in getting himself ready so that he could focus on what Geralt needed. Eskel stripped out of his comfortable lounging clothes and chucked them aside, cocking his hip as he decided what to wear.

He slid on a slightly more respectable pair of jeans that hugged his ass quite nicely, sitting comfortably on his hips. Next, a simple hunter green button-down, loosely tucked in with the top few buttons left undone. Eskel finished it off with a dark brown leather belt and a pair of grey oxfords. Easy enough, he thought as he heard the shower turn off. Now, for the fun.

Eskel strode back and forth between the closet and the bed a few times, depositing new items with every pass. A pair of dark, not-quite-black jeans, a blue shirt with silver pearly buttons and a subtle paisley print, a soft pair of briefs, all folded neatly at the edge of the bed. Geralt’s most comfortable pair of nice boots, the soft leather buttery as Eskel set them with a pair of socks peeking out.

A simple black box, no larger than a shoe box, was set atop the comforter as well. It had been tucked away for a solid two weeks, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to reveal as Eskel’s surprise. Eskel put his hands on his hips and looked down at the spread just as the bathroom door opened, the soft spice of Geralt’s body wash carried over on a burst of steam. Eskel turned around and smiled as Geralt quirked his brow at him. “What, no red shirt tonight?”

“Variety’s the spice of life, Geralt.” Eskel tracked his eyes slowly, obviously, reverently over Geralt’s hair already neatly tied at the nape of his neck, down his broad chest and his narrow waist, his skin glistening with water droplets that trailed their way down to the towel slung around Geralt’s waist. “Speaking of, can we do a scene tonight?”

Eskel flicked his eyes back up to Geralt’s face, his sharp eyes catching the blush that just barely crept up Geralt’s neck. It even peeked a bit over the faint freckles on Geralt’s cheeks, like watercolors sweeping across parchment. It was that, those little things that no others had the privilege of witnessing, that always gave Eskel the most euphoric sense of joy.

Geralt nodded and cleared his throat lightly. “What-uh, what did you have in mind?”

Eskel held out his hand and his smile grew as Geralt slipped his fingers in between his own. “I want to take care of you, let you have a quiet night where you can get away from all those thoughts bouncing around your skull.”

Geralt hummed and looked over Eskel’s shoulder to the bed with a cheeky smirk. “Picked out an outfit for me?”

“Mhm.” Eskel ran his other hand up Geralt’s shoulder and watched the goosebumps bloom in its wake. “Figured that even if you don’t wanna scene, I could still help you get ready.”

“Tell me more.” Geralt appraised the box on the bed suspiciously, but with an enthusiastic glint in his eyes.

Eskel followed his gaze. “We’ve got a quiet booth for dinner tonight, set aside in a corner. I’ll dress you, be sweet. But I figured that tonight might be good to try this out…”

He turned and grabbed the box, handing it to Geralt to open. Geralt’s fingers worked quickly, tipping the lid open and turning out what lay inside into his palm. It was a toy made of velvety black silicone, a sleek graduating plug with a tapered tip and a flared base. It was reminiscent of some of the toys that they had used in the past, but Geralt could tell by the way that Eskel was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet that he was in for a pleasant reveal of just what this toy had to offer.

“I’ll work you open,” Eskel rumbled, reaching behind him for his phone, “and put that in. I-I’d like for you to wear it at dinner. And...I’ll be able to do this-” Eskel pressed on the screen on his phone and the toy gently vibrated in Geralt’s palm, practically silent, “whenever I want.”

“A-are you gonna make me cum at the table?” Geralt whispered, glancing back and forth between Eskel’s fingers and the still-vibrating plug.

“Would you like that?” Eskel asked, removing his thumb from his phone, letting the toy fall still.

Geralt swallowed thickly and let his mind wander. No work, no outside world. Only Eskel, the man that he loved more than words could dare to say, doting on him and showering him in pleasure that he so rarely afforded himself. It didn’t take long for Geralt to make up his mind. “Y-yeah, I’d like that.”

“Then when we get back home,” Eskel slipped his phone into his pocket and rolled his sleeves up to his forearms, revealing olive skin dusted with pearly scars here and there, “we can indulge more. But I think we should just keep the scene for the dinner.”

Geralt nodded, “I agree. I know that I’m going to want to ravish you by the time we get back here.”

Eskel brought his hand up to Geralt’s neck and pulled him in, resting their foreheads together and closing his eyes. He breathed in deeply, the soft musk of clean Geralt warming his chest and down his hips. “Safewords?”

“You know my word.”

“Doesn’t matter. Still need you to tell me.”

Geralt sighed with a smile that betrayed the tease on his tongue. “Steel.”

Eskel nodded. “Steel.”

“And yours?”

“Silver.” The word dripped from Eskel’s lips, passed merely on his breath to Geralt’s ears.

“Silver.” Eskel watched Geralt’s eyes begin to haze over with his eagerness, his readiness for what was so close to come.

“Ready then?” Geralt nodded and blinked, clearing himself for the touch of Eskel’s hands and the mind-bending surge of Eskel’s being bleeding into his own.

Eskel took a deep breath and felt himself slip into the role, the dominant, the caretaker. He stood up straight and allowed all of the bold streaks within him to flare out into the very tips of his fingers where he reached to pull Geralt to the edge of the bed. “Let’s get you dressed, love.”

Geralt sighed as soon as he felt Eskel’s strong touch on his skin. Eskel could feel the steady thrum of his heart in his chest, and he watched Geralt’s eyes haze over and flick down, slipping into his own role as the submissive, the wanted, the cared-for. A lazy smile pulled at his lips when he looked back up into Eskel’s eyes, and Eskel could practically taste the adoration that swam around in his vision.

Geralt’s skin was warm and dry as Eskel ran his hands over his shoulders and down to the towel at his waist. He untied the little knot and pulled it away, leaving Geralt’s side for a moment to hang it on the hook on the bathroom door. He heard the low whine that tore itself from Geralt’s throat and he hummed reassuringly. “Don’t worry, love. Just don’t want to leave a mess. You saw all the cleanin’ I did today?”

Geralt nodded as Eskel came back to him, stopping behind him and resting his hands on his hips. He peered around and met Geralt’s gaze when he turned his head, two pairs of maple-gold eyes boring into each other. “Did it for you. I’ll always do it for you, anything.”

Geralt gasped as Eskel’s hands pushed at his hips, leading him to prop one knee up on the edge of the bed and brace himself on his hands atop the dark sheets. Something low and intense burned in Eskel’s stomach at the little noise, so acutely aware of how difficult it was to drag noises like that from Geralt. “Y-hmm. You know that I’d do anything for you, Eskel. You need only ask.”

“I do,” Eskel murmured, kissing down the line of Geralt’s spine, smirking at the goosebumps that erupted around his hips, “in a heartbeat. You’re my everything, and I know that you love me more than you can rightly say.”

Geralt could feel the denim of Eskel’s jeans scratching against the backs of his bare thighs, setting their two roles apart in stark contrast. Naked, needy, exposed. Dressed, giving, guarding. The rough planes of Eskel’s cheek glanced over the small of Geralt’s back as he kneaded his hands gently into the swells of Geralt’s bum, leading him into the headspace of comfort, care, trust. Geralt felt the reins of his mind loosening with each moment that passed, yielding to the loving hands that roved restlessly atop his skin.

Eskel’s blood thrummed molten in his veins as he reached to the bedside table and found the bottle of lube, watching the little shudder along Geralt’s hips as he clicked open the cap. “Now,” he groused, slicking his fingers in a generous amount of the lubricant. “Don’t want to get you too worked up. This is for later, but I want you to be stretched out and comfortable.”

“A-alright-” Geralt hummed as Eskel gently pushed at the tight ring of muscle between his thighs, not actually pushing in, but more around. Loosening him. Relaxing him.

Eskel’s mind and body warred with themselves as he watched Geralt shake ever so slightly under the ministrations of his fingers. Eskel inhaled deeply, centering his energy in his pelvis and the tender spots behind his ears. He slowly pushed into Geralt’s entrance just up to his first knuckle, smoothing his other hand back and forth over Geralt’s hip. He bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to keep it together, dammit as the keen from behind Geralt’s teeth reached his ears, the sight of Geralt’s toes curling as he attempted to quell any other little noises from betraying his tender state. Geralt’s hole fluttered and pulsed around him as he slid his finger out and back in again, working it just a bit deeper each time. Once he was buried up to the knuckle, Eskel let out a breath that he hadn’t realized that he had been holding.

“Gods, Geralt,” he breathed, entranced by the sight of his finger, shining with lube, pressing in and out and around Geralt’s entrance. Eskel’s cock was certainly showing interest, twitching in the rough confines of his jeans. “You always feel so fucking good for me.”

Geralt’s breath punched out of his chest, his arms suddenly falling slack so his hands bunched in the soft fabric beneath them, his face braced against the comforter. A small voice at the back end of his mind fought the praise, told him that he didn’t need it, that he didn’t deserve it. But this was Eskel talking. Eskel, who had known every inch of Geralt, inside and out, for as long as either of them could remember. Eskel, whose own secure walls had been methodically weathered by Geralt’s love. Eskel, who loved him more and more every day.

So Geralt really couldn’t find it in himself to listen to that insignificant voice. It wasn’t terribly often that either of them had the opportunity to scene quite like this, as Geralt’s mind tended to be far more...stubborn than Eskel’s when it came to letting go. Oh, but when he could? Geralt indulged.

Eskel dripped more lube down Geralt’s cheeks, sliding in a second finger on his next pass. Geralt’s back arched and Eskel watched as the muscles in Geralt’s thighs and down to his calves rippled. Geralt let out a shuddering breath, the end tinged with a growl from the back of his throat.

Patience, Eskel. He had a very specific goal in mind, and that goal required resistance, endurance, restraint. Never mind that his cock was trying valiantly to make itself known, to get him to just rip his trousers off and sink into that tight, wet heat. Eskel hung his head as he worked Geralt open, willing himself calm, searching out the path to Geralt’s pleasure that had become so well traveled for him.

Geralt pushed his hips back into Eskel’s fingers, searching for more. “Esk, please. I-I need-”

“I know what you need, love,” Eskel hummed and tightened his hold on Geralt’s hip, stopping the roll of his hips back onto his hand, “and what you need, Geralt, is a bit of patience.”

Geralt gasped as Eskel thrust a third finger inside of him, stretching him wider and searching for that hidden spot nestled away. Eskel shifted, placing his knee up on the bed beside Geralt and twisting his arm so that he could crook his fingers just so. He finally brushed over that spot that sent stars up Geralt’s spine, but he didn’t linger. He couldn’t.

“You ready?” Eskel rumbled, loosening his grip on Geralt’s hip. A low growl peeled from his chest when he saw the red marks shaped in the pads of his fingers, knowing that they would soon be pretty purple bruises on one of Geralt’s most intimate spots.

“Y-yes,” Geralt sighed, sliding into a whine as Eskel pulled his fingers from inside of him. The toy was light in Eskel’s hand as he coated it with lube, dripping an extra little bit between Geralt’s cheeks as well before pressing it just barely against his entrance.

Geralt tried to rock back into the contact, his hand reaching back and grasping desperately to twine his fingers with Eskel’s. Eskel’s heart soared in his chest, feeling just how badly Geralt wanted this. He stroked his thumb over the back of Geralt’s fingers as his other hand slowly guided the toy into Geralt, lightly thrusting through the tight ring of muscle until it sat comfortably flushed inside of him.

Now, it was nowhere near the size of Eskel’s cock. It was only about the length of a typical plug, and the girth of two of Eskel’s thick fingers. But it still filled Geralt quite nicely, his slender fingers clenching the blanket with enough vigor to leave creases in their wake. His eyes rolled back into his head and all he knew was pleasure in its purest form, a constant thrum inside of him as his body adjusted to the toy.

Eskel couldn’t tear his eyes away. Geralt, bent over on the bed, his shoulders heaving with heavy breaths, his ass shining with the lube that dripped languidly down the insides of his thighs. The peek of the toy, a black flare sitting nestled along the slope of the inside of Geralt’s cheeks. Eskel slid his hands through the coarse hair on Geralt’s thighs and back up once again, spreading his ass and taking one last, long look.

“You alright if I go grab a towel? Need to get you cleaned up before dinner.” Eskel murmured low, trying to keep his voice steady and calm while a different part of his brain that he was trying very hard to ignore was stomping its feet and losing itself in the ideas of just what Eskel could do with Geralt right now, dammit.

Geralt grunted and relaxed his hands, searching for words that landed no further than the tip of his tongue. Eskel grinned to himself as he watched the gears kick back on in Geralt’s head, cracking through the haze of the subspace that he had so gently, so lightly been cradled into. He hadn’t truly slipped completely into that haze beneath consciousness, but he was lingering in that odd, yet still quite pleasant, space in-between.

Eskel shook his head and gave Geralt just a moment longer. It was so easy for either of them to fall silent while in the cozy embrace of subspace, even one as light as where Geralt found himself. But then, when adjustments needed to be made and the two of them needed to move on to the next part of the scene, they needed words. Not mumbles, not shaken heads. Clear, not cock-drunk words, that show that they came from a settled mind and knew just what they wanted.

“Geralt,” Eskel gently stroked his thumb back and forth on Geralt’s hip, coaxing him back into himself and lowering his head down to be level with Geralt’s. “Need you to use your words. Tell me, can I get a towel for you?”

Geralt’s chin turned lazily towards him, his honey-golden eyes blinking with an ever so slight furrow of his brow. “M-mhmm. Yes, Eskel. I’m good. I’m here.”

Eskel nodded, pressing his lips to Geralt’s temple and scritching the hairs at the nape of Geralt’s neck. “Alright, I’ll be quick.”

He stepped into the bathroom and found a clean washrag, running it under some warm water and ringing it back out before quickly washing his own hands. As he stepped back into the bedroom, Eskel found Geralt sprawled exactly as he left him, thighs open and head resting on the comforter. “Melitele help me,” he whispered so as not to startle him out of his fragile state of bliss, “Geralt, you are far too pretty.”

Geralt grunted again, a huff of laughter playing on his tongue. “Nuh-uh,” his voice was muffled where his lips turned into the soft red blanket, “y...you’re too pretty. With your long hair, fuck. Can’t wait to pull on it.”

Eskel shook his head and smiled, carefully reaching out to drag his fingers up Geralt’s leg. His heart warmed in his chest and the swell of Geralt’s wish sent lovely visions through his head. “Hush, you. Let me clean this up…”

He slid the warm towel around Geralt’s bum, gently wiping away the stray lube and beads of sweat that had found their way into the small of Geralt’s back and down around where the toy poked temptingly out of him. Eskel hummed low as he went, carefully wiping around Geralt’s front and finding him a bit more than half-hard.

“Well,” Eskel rumbled, using a firm hand to clean away the last few drops of lube from where they had dripped down his thighs, “someone has been enjoying themselves…”

“Mhm,” Geralt sighed, lifting his head up and propping himself onto his hands. “No shit. You were buried to the knuckles and have been whispering sweet things into my ear. Can you blame me?”

“Never,” Eskel whispered, wiping his hands off and pressing his lips to Geralt’s shoulder blade. “Now, I need you to roll over so we can get you dressed. Go slow, don’t want to jostle anything unnecessarily. And don’t even think about tryin’ to help me get you dressed. That’s my job.”

Normally, Geralt would give him snark with his sharp tongue about getting him worked open and kind of sticky so soon after his shower. He wouldn’t want the praise, the soft attention. But Geralt in this role? He had needs locked away that his conscious mind wouldn’t let spill from his lips, wouldn’t allow him to seek out with just anyone. But Eskel? Oh, Eskel had torn right past the walls that Geralt had kept so strongly built around his most tender parts long ago, but it wasn’t often that Geralt let himself get this relaxed, this malleable.

Eskel guided Geralt gently but with confident hands, hands that had squeezed and molded and felt every inch of skin on his body more times than either of them could count. Eskel smoothed his hands down Geralt’s hips and over his thighs as he settled on his bum with his legs hanging off the side of the bed, resting back on his elbows and looking up at him through his lashes. He’d started the journey back into himself from the fog of pleasure, though he was still pliant and smiley when he met Eskel’s eyes.

“How’s it feel, Geralt?” Eskel’s breath caught in his throat when Geralt swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. His cock, nestled half-hard at his hip, was beginning to flag just a tad, though it was clear that Geralt was fighting for any modicum of self-restraint.

“Mmm. ‘s good. Comfortable.” Geralt’s voice was rough gravel at the bottom of a riverbed, bubbling and tumbling up his throat. Eskel squeezed Geralt’s thighs, reassuring them both in the soft gesture.

Eskel nodded with decisiveness, letting his fingers slip from Geralt’s legs. “Right then. Let’s get movin’. Underwear first.”

Eskel picked up the soft dark pair of briefs, running his fingers along the waistband. He knelt down between Geralt’s legs, pressing his lips to the inside of his knee. He slipped the shorts over one of Geralt’s feet, followed closely by the other. He pulled them up slowly, letting them chase the path that his lips made until he reached the crest of Geralt’s hip. Eskel tapped his fingers on the side of Geralt’s leg and flicked his eyes up to him, a wordless request. Geralt clenched his jaw as he lifted his hips off the bed and Eskel quickly pulled the underwear into place.

Geralt let out a soft punched noise from his chest as he landed back down on the bed. “Alright?” Eskel asked, standing back to his full height.

“Mhm,” Geralt sighed, his eyes fluttering slightly. “Just...snug in there. ‘S nice.”

“Good,” Eskel grinned, reaching down to adjust how Geralt’s cock was sitting in the soft cradle of the briefs. He was hot and heavy in his palm, valiantly pulsing with Eskel’s barest touch. “Now, give me your hands. I’m gonna help you up and into your pants.”

Geralt grunted, moving like his arms were pushing through jello, slowly sitting up and slipping his fingers into Eskel’s. His chest was flushed pretty pink and his skin was pleasantly warm to the touch. Eskel gently pulled him up, smoothing his hands up Geralt’s arms as he adjusted his weight to standing on his feet once more.

“There’s my man,” Eskel growled from the space nestled right beneath his sternum. Geralt’s knees wobbled as he gasped into Eskel’s ear, clenching his teeth before setting himself right once more.

“M’kay,” Geralt swallowed and nodded, that same soft look still swimming in his eyes. “We can do pants now.”

Eskel pressed his palm firmly into Geralt’s chest above his heart, running his fingers through the dark thatch of chest hair. He leaned over to the bed and picked up the neatly folded jeans, letting them open as he dropped back to the floor at Geralt’s feet. He felt Geralt’s eyes on the crown of his head as he situated the legs of the pants in between them.

“Ask first,” Eskel looked up, catching the bright flicker of Geralt’s eyes boring down into him.

Geralt’s cheeks flushed a bit further, trailing down his chest. “C-can I touch you? Please?”

That was always the most difficult part for Geralt, scene or no. Saying, out loud, what he desired. Not for lack of trying on either of their parts, and they had known each other intimately for so long that they knew, most of the time, just what the other was seeking. But they both knew, too, how long Geralt’s stubbornness would keep him bottled up and silent, keeping down his own wants and needs in pursuit of Eskel’s. But that wouldn’t do.

So Eskel, in an effort to nudge Geralt into being more comfortable with saying what he needed, asked him to. Often. And Geralt had responded well, especially when Eskel offered his soft, gentle praise in return.

“Of course, love,” Eskel said, lowering his voice to as growly as it dared get. “I am yours to touch, always.”

Gods-be-fucking-damned, Geralt thought as he looked down at Eskel, his face level with Geralt’s still quite interested cock and his comfortably full ass. Eskel was clearly affected too, his chest flushed red through the peek at the top of his shirt, his trousers just a tad too snug around his arousal. Geralt threaded his fingers in the soft mahogany strands of Eskel’s hair, just running idly as Eskel’s hand found his ankle.

“This one first,” Eskel said, still staring directly into Geralt’s eyes. Geralt lifted his foot and let Eskel slide the denim over and up, letting the leg pool around his ankle when he led it back down to the floor.

“And the other, now.” A mirrored repeat, Geralt’s fingers still running rivers in Eskel’s hair. Longer than it had been in quite a while. Little curls on the end, enticing him to wrap his fingers in and hold fast. But that wasn’t part of the plan.

Not that night, anyways.

Eskel stood slowly, hooking his fingers into the waistband and dragging the jeans up Geralt’s legs. The denim hugged his legs firmly when Eskel stood back to his full height, his eyes still locked with Geralt’s as he settled the waistband on his hips and did up the zipper and buttons. Geralt had softened enough by that point so as not to be completely obvious in the tight pants, though Eskel still used a gentle hand to guide his cock into a comfortable position.

Geralt bit the inside of his cheek as he felt Eskel’s hands smooth up over his stomach and onto his neck, cupping his cheeks and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Geralt turned his head just a tad and slotted their lips together, not pushing or deepening, just sort of... holding each other, feeling the sweet embrace of their lips against one another. Geralt sighed as Eskel moved away, grabbing Geralt’s shirt off of the bed.

“Come now,” Eskel chuckled, “can’t just kiss you all day. We’d never actually get to dinner.”

Eskel led Geralt with a hand on his hip to spin, his chest now at Geralt’s back. Eskel dragged his nose down the slope of Geralt’s shoulder as he slid the sleeves of the shirt over Geralt’s hands and up his arms. The fabric was cool over his flushed skin, light and breezy despite the stuffy appearance. Eskel adjusted it so it sat correctly over Geralt’s broad shoulders and skated his hands back down to Geralt’s hips. He tapped his left hand twice right over Geralt’s hipbone, prompting a spin once more.

Geralt smirked and spun around on the balls of his feet, just slow enough that he knew would push and prod at the bottom of Eskel’s almost endless well of patience. He knew he had hit it perfectly when Eskel’s crooked brow came into view, one of his hands resting comfortably on his cocked hip.

“How long do you think I can keep this up before you look at your watch?” Geralt drawled, playful affection tinting the heavy snark in his voice.

“Geralt…”

“Well, you’ve spent a decent chunk of time playing with my ass, at this rate we won’t be getting to any sort of restaurant before …”

Eskel tilted his head, a playful warning, but a warning all the same. He was, after all, the one in charge. “As much as I would love to watch you try and find out, we’re not testin’ my resolve this evening. Not yet.”

Eskel smirked, hooking his fingers into Geralt’s belt loops and yanking, slotting their hips together and brushing their noses. “For now though,” he whispered into Geralt’s mouth, having ended that bout of silliness quite effectively, “let’s wrap this up, shall we?”

He ran his hands up beneath the edges of Geralt’s shirt, all the way up to his collarbones before grabbing onto the fabric. Eskel started a few buttons down, showing off a triangle of pale skin marked with shiny scars and smattered freckles. Eskel’s fingers danced quickly down the rest of the pearly buttons, neatening and straightening as he went all the way down to the last one. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Geralt’s cheek as his hands snaked around his waist, tucking the hem of the shirt snugly into the band of his trousers as they moved back around to the front.

Geralt returned the peck on the cheek before Eskel backed too far away, smiling at the soft blush that skated over Eskel’s nose. “Anything else?”

“Sit back down on the edge of the bed,” Eskel slipped his phone out of his pocket and looked at the time before setting it on the comforter. “Need to get your shoes on, then we should be ready to go.”

Geralt nodded and sat, kicking his feet idly while Eskel knelt back on the floor. “Got my good boots out?”

Eskel looked up at him through his lashes, “Of course I got the good ones, this is not amateur hour, Geralt.”

Geralt nodded and set his feet on Eskel’s thighs. “I like these boots.”

Eskel smiled and pressed his lips to the inside of Geralt’s thighs, kissing the rough denim and feeling the yield of the soft flesh nestled beneath. “I know. ‘S why I picked them.”

Eskel moved quickly, easily slipping the socks onto Geralt’s feet, followed by the comfortable leather boots. Eskel did up the laces, only knotting them a single time. Just as Geralt preferred.

He stood, bracing his hands on the bed on either side of Geralt’s thighs. He kissed Geralt gently before grabbing his phone, backing up just outside of arm’s reach. “Right then, love. Wanted to ask you something. Would you like to see how the toy feels when it’s on before we leave, or would you rather it be a surprise?”

Geralt met Eskel’s eyes, finding them clear and soft. Not the eyes of his dom, demanding answers and compliance with only a look. No, those were Eskel’s eyes. The eyes of the man with a heart of gold that Geralt loved more than life itself. Geralt shook away the last tendrils of the hazy submissive role that had enveloped him so nicely over the last while, mulling over his two options clearly in his mind.

If there was something that Geralt tried to avoid at all costs, it was surprises. Generally speaking, it was rare that anything ever truly surprised him, but there were always some exceptions. Even still, he preferred to be prepared for any possible outcome, especially when his ass was involved.

But fuck, when it came to Eskel? He would put his life in Eskel’s hands without a second thought. He knew that Eskel would never do anything to put him too far outside of his own self, his own comfort. Eskel knew him better than any other person, inside and out. He would never ask for anything outside of what Geralt would ever want, and he would handle Geralt with the finest gloves like the finest china.

Geralt’s eyes flicked to Eskel’s fingers. Before, when he had been teasing, Eskel’s fingers tapped his hip and flexed impatiently. An act. But in that moment, while Geralt was deciding just how he wanted to find his pleasure? His fingers were still, his posture relaxed and his eyes searching Geralt’s as if he could find the answers to all of life’s problems in the sunrise-golden irises.

Geralt cleared his throat and smoothed his hands over his thighs. “I...I want it to be a surprise, please.”

Eskel smiled warmly, clicking to lock his phone and slipping it back into his pocket. “Alright, good. But...and just so you know, I would’ve said this either way, but you have to be vocal with me. Need you to be honest, all evening. Less, more, not enough, stop. Anything and everything that you’re feelin’, I need to know. You have to promise me that, Geralt.”

Sure, Geralt was putting his trust, his vulnerability, his control, into Eskel’s well-worn hands. But...not really. They both had control, they both knew that this was a two-person dance that needed communication. And Geralt knew that Eskel would never ask for something that Geralt could not give, not now and not ever. So Geralt didn’t need to think twice about nodding, saying, “Of course, Eskel. I promise.”

“Wonderful,” Eskel rumbled, slipping back into the dominant headspace now that he had gotten confirmation of their needs. “Now, let’s get in the car.”

The car ride was quiet, peaceful. Eskel drove, one of his hands gripping onto Geralt’s thigh the entire journey. Not with any sort of force, but strong enough for Geralt’s mind to latch on to and yearn for more. Besides that, Geralt didn’t really know where they were heading. He figured it would be somewhere nice, especially as Eskel had spent so long planning this evening out.

“I can hear you thinkin’ from over here,” Eskel grinned, peering over at him before returning his eyes to the road. “Go on. Ask.”

Geralt swallowed and blinked out the window at the sunset, bright oranges and reds and purples painted across the sky. “What, uh… where are we going for dinner?”

Eskel grinned and squeezed his thigh lightly, pouring every ounce of his love into the tips of his fingers to bleed into Geralt’s leg. “I’m taking us to Falenti’s, I know you like their Saltimbocca…”

Geralt’s eyes lit up and flicked over to Eskel, finding the self-satisfied grin that tugged at the scar over his cheek. “I do love that sauce. Will… will you order for us?”

“Was hoping you’d ask that,” Eskel blinked slowly, his voice tumbling lower and lower the closer they got to the restaurant. “I like when you let me take care of you like this. You won’t have to think about a thing.”

Geralt preened the slightest bit in his seat and threaded his fingers with Eskel’s, letting Eskel stroke his thumb over the back of his knuckles as they pulled into the parking lot.

The weight of the toy in Geralt’s bum shifted as he rose out of the car, drawing a gasp up into his chest. Eskel knew, of course, and walked around to slide his hand back into Geralt’s. “Alright? Still good?”

Geralt grinned and leaned his head onto Eskel’s shoulder. “Yeah, still good. I’m… I’m excited.”

Eskel’s eyes went soft and his smile felt so much more real in that moment when he pressed his lips onto the crown of Geralt’s head. “Me too, love. Me too.”

Eskel led the two of them into the restaurant, a burst of cool air welcoming them as the door opened. They approached the host stand, finding a young woman with kind eyes and a bright, if not a little too much so, smile on her face. “Hello gentlemen, doing alright this evening?”

Eskel smiled and pulled Geralt closer, wrapping his arm around Geralt’s hip. “We’re doin’ wonderful, thank you. We have a reservation under ‘Rivia,’ please.”

The young woman tapped a few keys on the desktop in front of her before grabbing two menus. “Follow me to your table, your server will be right with you.”

Eskel guided Geralt by the hip, feeling the barely-there softness of the tummy that he had been trying to get Geralt to build for years beneath his fingers. Just as requested, the two of them were escorted to a booth in the corner, sequestered away from other patrons. Private, or as much as they could be in a public restaurant.

It was dark, lit only by a lone sconce on the wall that bathed the mahogany table in a warm glow. “As I said, your server will be with you shortly.” The young woman left their menus on the table and departed, leaving the two men to relax into their seats across from one another.

Eskel watched Geralt shimmy and shift around in the seat, attempting to find a comfortable position with the secret hidden inside of him. Eskel smirked, pulling his phone out of his pocket and onto the table, Geralt’s eyes immediately shooting over to it and back up to Eskel.

“Now, we won’t start at least until I’ve ordered,” Eskel said as he opened his menu, his tone borderline flippant. “After, though, ’s free game.”

Their server came over, another young woman dressed entirely in black, with a black apron tied around her waist. “Hello gentlemen,” her voice was quiet and calm, gentle waves in the dark air. “My name is Lou, I’ll be your server this evening. Can I start you boys off with something to drink, or are you ready to order?”

Eskel slid his foot up the outside of Geralt’s calf, causing him to jump slightly in his seat. Eskel grinned with a wink before turning to Lou. “I think we’re ready, actually. We’ll just do water to drink, and we’ll start with the Zucchini Fritti. I’ll have the chicken Bellini, and he’ll have the Veal Saltimbocca. We’ll have to see how we’re feelin’ for dessert, so we’ll decide on that later.” Eskel’s voice was still low, almost growly, and Geralt was mesmerized as he listed off their order. Struck dumb, he watched their server bounce away before returning with their glasses of water, leaving them alone once more.

Eskel sipped his water, looking straight over the table at Geralt, whose own eyes were glued to where Eskel’s free hand now hovered over the screen of his phone.

“T-thank you for ordering for us, Eskel,” Geralt murmured, watching the minute tease of Eskel’s fingers just barely not touching the screen.

“You’re very welcome, my love,” Eskel replied, just as quietly. “Wanna start you slow, so you have a chance to get used to the feeling.”

Geralt nodded, feeling a rush of heat bloom up his chest as he squirmed a bit in his seat. Eskel chuckled, seeing the enthusiastic glint in Geralt’s eyes as a good sign.

Geralt watched as Eskel finally, gently pressed his finger to the base of the phone and dragged up, only just barely on the screen. He felt the toy rumble to life, and he gasped despite being prepared for the sensation. It was pleasant, and Geralt already itched for more.

Geralt hummed and let his eyes fall closed, his fingers gripping onto the edge of the table. “Fuck, Eskel,” he breathed, his lungs playing catch-up with how intensely his heart was beating, “f-feels so good.”

Eskel was enraptured, watching in real time as that familiar submissive haze fell over Geralt’s eyes. “’M glad, will this be what you need?”

Geralt nodded and swallowed thickly, letting his head fall to his chest. Eskel hummed and drew his fingers up under Geralt’s chin, lifting his eyes back up to him. “Words, love.”

Geralt’s cheeks flushed and Eskel smiled, keeping his eyes soft. “Y-yes, Esk. It’ll b-nnng. It’ll be perfect.”

Eskel bit the inside of his cheek as he spotted their server returning to their table just as Geralt’s hips started to shift back and forth, chasing the soft vibrations of the toy. Eskel took his finger off of the phone and Geralt’s eyes shot open, defiant and his mouth fell into a grimace that disappeared as soon as their server came into view.

“Alright boys, one order of the Zucchini Fritti. Anything else I can get for you?”

“No, thank you,” Eskel said, shooting a sly look at Geralt out of the corner of his eye.

Lou left them once more and Geralt sagged into the cushions, his chest heaving with deep breaths. “Shit. Can always trust you to let me get all caught up and then fucking cut me off-”

Eskel hummed and reached for one of the little rounds of crispy zucchini. “You gotta trust that I know what’ll be good for you. Within reason, of course, but I want you to be able to let me take the reins. Without attitude.”

“You love my attitude.”

“I do, just as I love the rest of you. But if you want to be bratty, maybe I’ll just keep you on the edge all night, not let you finish at all?”

Geralt coughed as he sipped his water, sitting back up in his seat. Well. I guess that’s me shutting up... for now. “N-no. I’ll behave. Promise.”

Eskel grinned wolfishly. “Good. Now, let’s eat for a bit, then we can keep playing.”

They ate quietly, letting their minds relax and settle back into the liminal space nestled between their brows. As the plate was emptied, Eskel reached across the table and grabbed onto Geralt’s hand. Lou came back around and took the dish, letting them know that it may be a while before their entrees came out, as there had been a mishap in the kitchens.

“Not a worry, Lou,” Eskel smiled kindly, “we’re a patient bunch.”

“Most of the time…” Geralt grumbled under his breath.

Eskel clenched his jaw and shot Geralt a Look with his eyebrows raised. “When it counts, we’re very patient. Don’t worry about us Lou, we’ll just... relax for a bit.”

Lou had no sooner spun on her heel away from her table when Eskel slid his finger back onto the screen of his phone, cueing the toy inside of Geralt to vibrate significantly more intensely than it had before. Geralt clenched his fingers in Eskel’s hand and his body clenched before relaxing right back into the weight of the toy. His hips thrusted absently with the vibrations, following the pattern that Eskel drew back and forth on his phone.

In the back of his mind, Geralt was minutely aware of their public situation, especially as the crotch of his trousers drew tighter around his growing erection. But Eskel was whispering across the table to him, boring his golden eyes up and down Geralt’s body as if it were the first and only time that he’d ever get the chance to see him like this.

“Gods, Geralt,” Eskel breathed, tracing arches up and down on his phone to increase and decrease the speed of the vibrations of the toy in waves. “You know, I bet that if anyone were to look over here right now and see you thrustin’ up so desperately into nothing, they’d be so godsdamned jealous of me... cause I’m the one that gets to sit here and watch.”

Geralt felt like he couldn’t breathe, his body like one big nerve ending that kept twitching and shaking. The toy pressed against his prostate and he could feel his cock leaking into his briefs, and he just barely bit back a moan that threatened to escape from behind his teeth. Geralt glanced up at Eskel and came this fucking close to cumming in his pants then and there.

To anyone on the outside looking in, anyone who didn’t know the intimate tells that Eskel so carefully kept stowed away, he would almost look bored as he absentmindedly scrolled around on his phone. But Geralt, who knew every minute thing that made Eskel who he was, could see right past it. Eskel’s barrel chest, dusted with coarse dark hair that peeked through the V of his unbuttoned shirt, was flushed maroon and hitched with deep breaths taken through his nose. His hand, still gripped in Geralt’s fingers, was sweaty and his eyes were dark and lusty as they tore like fire over Geralt’s skin.

Eskel slowed the toy down, tapering the vibrations until they stopped all together. Geralt knew now to trust in Eskel’s judgement, especially considering that he really was gloriously oblivious to the specifics of their surroundings. Eskel took a deep breath in and leaned over, giving his hand one last squeeze before letting go. “Food’s on the way. Take a deep breath, love, you’re doing so fuckin’ well.”

Geralt let a dopey smile pull at his lips as he stretched his fingers and his legs out, still comfortably aroused, and maybe a little frustrated with being cut off again, but endlessly loved. His mind swam with the look in Eskel’s eyes, the lingering warmth of Eskel’s hand still nestled in the grip of his fingers.

Two steaming plates were set before them, deep aromas tickling Geralt’s nostrils. His mouth, having already been watering from their previous activities, sighed in contentment.

“Alright, how’s everything look?” Lou asked, looking back and forth between Eskel and Geralt.

“Looks perfect, Lou. Thank you.” Eskel smiled as Lou turned away, lifting his fork and putting together a generous mouthful of sautéed chicken smothered in a creamy white wine sauce with roasted peppers and olives. His eyes fluttered shut as the softly savoury taste hit his tongue, indulgent and instantly satisfying the craving in his stomach. He still felt the tingles of a craving much lower, baser, but it was quieted for the time being.

Geralt discreetly adjusted himself as soon as Lou had stepped away, giving him the perfect timing to make himself comfortable once more. His prosciutto wrapped veal wafted a heady scent of sage and fire-roasted garlic up to smother his senses, and though Geralt could not ignore the still weight resting in his bum, he found himself seeking out the intense flavors that rested atop the plate.

The two of them ate in relative silence for a bit, broken only by the occasional murmur or offer to try each others’ dish. Every now and then, Eskel would nudge his knee up against Geralt’s, putting soft pressure to just... feel him.

“Geralt...” Eskel put down his fork and finished chewing, looking for his husband’s eyes across the table.

“Yes, love?” Geralt’s eyes flicked up briefly to Eskel’s, then back again when he saw the fond look at him across the table.

“Can—sorry, do you mind if we step out? I’d like to just talk for a bit if that’s alright. Only if you want, if you need to stay in it, I’m happy to stay.”

Geralt’s chewing slowed as he, too, lowered his fork. “Sure, we can pause. You alright?”

Eskel smiled reassuringly, “Yes, Geralt, I’ve never been better.” He reached for Geralt’s hand across the table, “I’m just… I’m incredibly happy, you know. With the life we built and the life we share.”

“It’s quite something, isn’t it?” Geralt said fondly. “If we can ever get the tiling in the downstairs bathroom finished.”

“That is your pet project Geralt, and you know it.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I finally decided on the colour—”

“Aaand let me guess: you’re waitin’ for it to go on sale?”

“That was one time, Eskel, and you know it.”

“That’s all beside the point. This all started because I was feelin’ a bit romantic, you ornery old thing.”

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to side track you. There’s a reason I married you, you know?” Geralt sighed fondly and rested his chin in his hand.

“Only the one?”

Geralt shook his head with a smirk turning the corner of his lip. “If we’re counting the entirety of ‘Eskel’ as a single thing, then yeah. Just the one. Although, putting a vibrating plug in my ass and taking me out to dinner is pretty high on the list.”

“Shame those things weren’t around for our wedding night,” Eskel cheeked, waggling his eyebrows.

Geralt narrowed his eyes playfully. “First of all, are you calling us old? Secondly, I cannot imagine walking around with this thing in my ass at our reception.”

Eskel shrugged. “Who said it would’ve been you wearing it?”

“Careful, now. I can’t get too far away from the scene or I’ll never get back in.”

Stroking his thumb over the back of Geralt’s knuckles, Eskel smiled softly. “Of course, love. Maybe we’ll revisit that idea later. You know, sometimes I wonder just what I did to deserve you in my life.”

Geralt’s heart swelled and he squeezed Eskel’s hand. “You didn’t have to do anything, Esk. We deserve each other, always.”

“I love you Geralt, I can’t say it enough times, but I do. So much.”

“I know, Eskel. I love you too, forever.”

They slipped back into a comfortable silence, just relaxing and enjoying each other’s air. Their plates slowly emptied, neither of them bothering to worry about saving anything for leftovers. Just as Geralt was sopping up the remainder of the sauce at the bottom of his plate with a chunk of bread, Eskel coughed lightly.

“Wanna get back into the scene, love?”

Geralt nodded, giving Eskel’s hand one last squeeze before slipping it away. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Might need a minute, though.”

Eskel smoothed his hand on his jeans and set his fork down on his barren plate. He dropped his voice back down into the just barely growly register that he knew set Geralt’s blood alight. “What do you need from me?”

Geralt’s fingers flinched and he dropped the bread onto the plate, spattering the sauce just a bit. “Shit, just that. J-just talk to me for a second.”

Eskel cocked his head and leaned back in his seat, letting that bold streak that rested low in his stomach crawl up into his chest and down the line of his shoulders. “Want me to tell you how good you’ve been all evening? How I’ve been sittin’ here, watchin’ you give yourself over to me like it’s still that very first time, or maybe how nicely you fit in the palm of my hand?”

Geralt’s eyes, already hazy and soft, followed Eskel’s hand as he reached over to his neglected phone. He felt himself clench around the toy in anticipation, but Eskel only slipped the phone into his pocket and bored his intensely golden eyes back into him, so deep that Geralt felt his very being warm with the twin suns of Eskel’s eyes.

“You alright, Geralt? Feelin’ good, drifty?”

Geralt hummed and nodded his head, resting his hand in his lap, letting just the tip of his fingers brush over his comfortably interested cock. His breath pushed out of his lungs in a soft keen, briefly closing his eyes in an effort to keep himself together under Eskel’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Geralt, I need words. Feelin’ good?”

Geralt cleared his throat and reopened his eyes, patting his own thigh a few times to wrangle what little bit of control that he still felt behind his eyes. “Y-yeah, Esk. ‘M floaty. But not too floaty…”

“Good,” Eskel rumbled, and Geralt felt the soft vibrations up his spine even without the toy inside of him even being turned on. “Will you be alright for me to run to the restroom for a moment?”

Geralt clenched his jaw with a light chuckle. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll try not to get into too much trouble without you here.”

Eskel smirked. “Geralt, that’s the only time you ever do get into trouble. Ah, hang on. Lou’s coming back, but I’ll take care of her. Just be good for me, yeah?”

Geralt hummed a quiet, “Yeah, Esk,” just as Lou rounded the corner of their table. “Everything good here? I’m guessing you won’t need any boxes,” she smiled, lifting their empty plates away from the table and balancing them on her arm.

Eskel smiled back, crossing his legs beneath the table and brushing against Geralt’s shin. “It was delicious. Now, I think we’re actually going to skip dessert tonight, but is there any way that we can just sit here for a bit longer? We don’t get to go out terribly often, an-”

Lou held up her free hand and shook her head with a grin. “Not a worry, gentlemen. You can have this spot for as long as you’d like, and I’ll leave you be. Just poke your head around if you need anything, and I’ll leave the check up at the host stand.”

Eskel nodded and he shifted in his seat, the weight of his phone burning a hole into his patience. “That’s perfect, Lou. Thank you so much, we’ll be sure to give you a shout if we need anything, but I think we’re good for the time being.”

“Wonderful,” she smiled and turned away, leaving Eskel to quirk his brow at Geralt.

“Sure you’ll be alright?”

“Mhm. I’m good. Gonna miss hearing you talk. But ‘s okay. You’ll be right back.”

Eskel smiled and nodded. “I sure will. Won’t be but a moment. Promise.”

Geralt watched through hooded eyes as Eskel sauntered off towards the restrooms, his shoulders broad and imposing even through the low, dim lights of the dining area. Geralt’s mind felt warm and while he immediately felt the loss of Eskel being within his reach, he knew that rationally, Eskel would never actually leave him for long, especially not during a scene. Over the years, they’ve figured out a balance, a dance back and forth of where their hard boundaries lie, and what could give with the well of their trust. Geralt allowed himself to relax back into his seat and his mind began to wander, floating out into the hazy edges of his awareness while waiting for Eskel’s return.

In the meantime, Eskel pushed open the swinging door to the restroom and let it fall shut behind him. He took a deep, calming breath in through his nose and held it, clenching his jaw as he counted back from ten. Watching Geralt, so willing, so relaxed, so eager, fuck it was doing things to his head. Well, and to his cock.

Eskel stepped up to one of the urinals and undid his belt and opened the fly of his jeans, letting his half-hard cock bounce into the open air. He was tempted, just for a moment, to take himself well and truly in hand and finally grant himself that sweet relief that had been hovering on the horizon for the better part of the evening. But no, no he couldn’t do that. It would be wrong, a cheat in their game. They were both clearly aware of the expectations, and Geralt had handed himself over to Eskel with the explicit trust that Eskel would be in complete control. And Eskel choosing to get up and leave Geralt alone in the tender embrace of his light subspace while he jerked off in the bathroom felt... wrong. Like he distorted and tainted the trust that was so delicately gifted to him and had lost control.

They both knew that nights like this, placing their very beings into the hands of one another in pursuit of comfort and indulgence, were for each other. They focused in on what the other needed, what they wanted. Geralt trusted Eskel to handle him with hands honed from years of practice with each other, and Eskel trusted Geralt to do the same.

Eskel sighed and hung his head, closing his eyes and focusing on anything other than the hot thrum of his blood calling him to seek out his climax. He relieved himself quickly, tucking himself back into his jeans and washing his hands. The hum of the hand-dryer was still resounding off the walls as Eskel glanced around the empty bathroom. He smirked to himself as he slipped his phone out of his pocket. Just a tease…

Geralt’s mind had just started to feel thorny around the edges, turning in on itself with harsh spikes when he felt that same soft rumble start up at the base of his spine. Ah, he thought to himself as his lips turned up in a soft grin, just as I was starting to miss him.

His arousal swelled between his thighs as the vibrations intensified, growing higher and dipping back down to a gentle hum in slow waves. Geralt’s mind wandered to Eskel, his beautiful, glorious Eskel, hidden away and still thinking of him. He arched his back and tried to sink his hips into the comforting pulsations inside of him, so achingly close to the sensitive bundle of nerves that had been relaxed away. His body yearned for more, everything tensing and relaxing and seeking out that which had not yet been awarded.

Three long, hard bursts shot up his spine and Geralt gasped, his eyes flicking over to where Eskel was exiting through the restroom door. His eyes were on Geralt the entire way back to the table, but Geralt’s eyes were on Eskel’s thumb, still pressing up and down on the screen of his phone. Feeling the patterns as he watched the separate movements that caused them in real time made his cock flex hard in his jeans, his hips stuttering as he felt the beginnings of climax overtake him.

“Not yet,” Eskel growled as he slid back into his seat, lifting his thumb completely from the phone screen. The toy came to a halt, dragging the explosive release of Geralt’s climax back down into the small of his belly as his lungs heaved in desperate breaths.

The phone clattered onto the table just as Geralt felt the tinglings of feeling return back to his fingers where they had been gripping onto the edge of the table. Geralt clenched and unclenched his jaw, seeking Eskel’s eyes in his own.

“Got pretty close there, huh?” Eskel drawled, thick and husky with just the hint of a tease seeping from behind his teeth.

Geralt swallowed thickly and nodded, screwing his eyes shut, still achingly within reach of his climax, even without the constant hum of the toy inside of him.

“Do you wanna cum, Geralt?”

His eyes shot back open and found Eskel’s finger hovering over the phone’s screen. He felt every thing all around them: the cool air coming from the vents above them, the well worn cushions beneath them, the lacquered wood beneath his fingers, the rough denim over his thighs. The soft cotton of his briefs sliding and pressing into his cock, slick and catching with the amount of precome that had been leaking from his neglected tip.

“Tell me,” Eskel whispered, coaxing Geralt along, putting the words right at the tip of his tongue, leaving Geralt with only the need to push them from his lungs. “Tell me, and you’ll have it.”

The air felt suspended around them for what could have been the beginnings of a lifetime. Neither of them could look away, their golden eyes melting into ore between their prone forms. Geralt was ready, so fucking ready, and Eskel was ready to give it to him. It wasn’t exactly the most difficult choice that Geralt had ever had to make.

“Yes,” Geralt breathed, tasting his desperation claw its way up from his chest. “P-please, Esk. M... make me cum.”

Eskel smiled, his teeth bared and almost wild as he pressed his finger firmy down to the screen, causing the toy to vibrate strong and fast and hard, pulsing against Geralt’s prostate and fucking holding there. They both knew how close Geralt was. His cheeks were flushed high and pink, trailing in soft brushstrokes down his neck and below the collar of his shirt. Eskel reached out with his free hand and grasped onto Geralt’s once more, watching Geralt’s hips reach a breaking point in their rhythm before suddenly stilling.

Geralt came with only the slightest noise, just little stunted, guttural grunts escaping up out of his chest, his eyes screwed shut as his climax overtook him. Geralt’s hips twitched and stuttered in aborted thrusts, completely unconsciously. His conscious mind was nowhere to be found, floating through time and space with the comfort of being cared for and grasped onto whiting out his vision. His mouth hung agape and he threw his head back against the high back of the chair, his chest heaving, racing, trying to bring him back into his own mind and into Eskel’s waiting hands.

Their surroundings started to push at the fuzzy edges of Geralt’s mind, the muted sounds of a still busy restaurant, Eskel’s finger slowing the toy down to a low rumble, the cooling wetness pooled in his briefs. Eskel’s voice, fading into the soft mush of his mind, “-so fucking good, Geralt. So beautiful, you’re killin’ me. You’ve gotta know how much I need you, need you more than air, love.”

Geralt blinked his eyes back open, finding Eskel in a... precarious position. His own chest dark and ruddy, little pearls of sweat beading in the hollows of his exposed collarbones. Sitting across from Geralt with his broad shoulders, hips slightly slumped to accommodate the now far-too-tight crotch of his trousers, eyes dark, mouth open slightly with his free hand beneath the edge of the table. Gerat could see from the way that he was moving that he was just barely palming himself through his pants, not seeking his own climax yet, but so starvingly desperate that he truly could not help himself.

Eskel’s thumb rubbed slow, soothing circles over the back of Geralt’s knuckles, escorting his mind with an anchor to tether his focus. “M-may I come sit next to you?”

Geralt smiled dopily and nodded, chuckling a bit as Eskel clambered out of his seat and into the spot at his side with all of the grace of an over-excited newborn horse that hadn’t quite found its legs yet. Eskel set his hand at the nape of Geralt’s neck and pulled him close, slotting their lips together with a fervor that only barely made its way to the light of day. Eskel rumbled soft whispers into Geralt’s mouth as they kissed, praises and words of wonderment, somehow sounding half-drunk and stone-cold sober in the same breath.

Eskel pulled back only enough to allow words to drift over the air between their lips, resting their foreheads together and rubbing his thumbs back and forth through the soft hairs at the base of Geralt’s skull. “How’re you feeling, love? Comin’ back?”

Geralt smiled, blinking slowly at Eskel and glancing around. He was no longer exactly blindingly comfortable, especially with the feeling of his own spend cooling in the tight embrace of his briefs, though he still felt safe and content and sated, wrapped in Eskel’s arms. “Yeah, Esk. ‘M good. That was... fuck, that was nice.”

The smile that Eskel shot Geralt was one that would saunter unbidden through Geralt’s mind until the day he ceased breathing on this earth. It was light and soft, lilies preening in the moonlight under which they bloomed. “Yeah? Here, hang on. You sh-”

“Yeah yeah, drink some water. I know,” Geralt grinned, pecking his husband on the lips once more before pulling away, though Eskel still kept him comfortably within his embrace. The glass of water, sweaty with condensation, was cool as Geralt lifted it to his mouth, letting it calm his humming muscles as the water spilled out and down into his throat. “You always break out of the scene so soon, ‘s always when I cum-”

“You’re just so damn sweet when you finish, Ger…” Eskel nuzzled his nose into the crook of Geralt’s neck, his brown curls tickling the tender skin and bringing goosebumps in their wake.

The weight of the toy still sat warm inside of Geralt, and though he flexed around just the smallest tinge of oversensitivity, it was... well. It was another thing for his mind to focus in on and cling to. “So, handsome,” Geralt set the empty glass down onto the table and ran his finger down Eskel’s neck, trailing through the dark thatch of chest hair that peeked out and hooked into the V of his open shirt. “Wanna let me take you home?”

They wasted no time in making themselves scarce, Eskel nearly ripping his jeans in his haste to remove his wallet from his pocket. He left a (thankfully, already prepared) wad of cash on the table as a tip for Lou and tucked his far too obvious for polite company erection into the waist of his pants. Eskel scooted out of the booth first, holding out a hand for Geralt to take as he followed suit.

They hurried to the host stand, settling their bill before leaving, tearing through the front doors as if their very lives depended on them getting back to their home right the fuck now. Eskel reached over the center console once they got into the car and kissed Geralt with enough heat to make a damn volcano jealous, nipping his lip and breathing his name into his mouth before pulling away like he had been struck by lightning.

“Gotta-” Eskel swallowed thickly and put on his seatbelt with a look on his face like it was physically paining him to part from the soft warmth of Geralt’s lips. “Gotta get home, or else I’m just gonna fuck you in the car.”

Geralt hummed and did up his own seatbelt, letting Eskel shift the car into drive and pull away from the restaurant and onto the highway. “A tempting offer. But both of our backs would be fucking shot in the morning. Gettin’ too old for that.”

Eskel chuckled, crooking his eyebrow. “You’re tellin’ me. Maybe we should take up yoga-”

“Don’t you even start. Unless I get to watch you do nude yoga on a mountaintop while the sun is rising, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Maybe we’ll head up the mountains for our next vacation, see the leaves change colors?”

Geralt sighed with a lazy smile playing at his lips. “T-that’d be nice.”

Eskel hummed, and they sat in comfortable silence for a while. That is, until they got about halfway home and Geralt started to get bored. He looked over into Eskel’s lap, finding him still hard and tenting his jeans, his hands twitching restlessly on the steering wheel.

“You know,” Geralt hummed, reaching over and placing his hand high up on Eskel’s thigh, firm and holding fast just shy of where he knew Eskel was aching for his touch. “I have some ideas for just what I’d like for us to do when we get home.”

Eskel quirked his brow and kept his eyes stubbornly on the road, though his knuckles grew white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. “Y-yeah?”

Geralt then started whispering, honey-laced sweetness tinging the fucking list that he rattled off into Eskel’s ear. Everything from how he wanted to draw out Eskel’s pleasure for as long as he could last, down to licking the salt of his spend off of every inch of where he marked Eskel’s body as his own. Eskel groaned and his breath hitched every now and then, his knee bouncing with anticipation and just the briefest tinge of impatience.

Eskel threw the car into park once they pulled far enough into their driveway to not get clipped by cars passing on the road, his parking job about as straight as he was. He jumped out of the car and didn’t even make it to the damned door before he started stripping out of his clothes, popping open the buttons of his green button down and tugging it free from where it had been tucked into his jeans. Geralt followed behind him with a smirk, stepping across the threshold of the house and over Eskel’s haphazardly abandoned shoes.

Geralt pulled the front door shut and locked it just as Eskel crowded up behind him, spinning him ‘round and cupping the nape of his neck with his hand.

Eskel kissed him deeply, licking into his mouth and moaning, trying to undo the dainty, pearly buttons of Geralt’s shirt that he had so delicately done up only a few hours prior.

“Geralt,” he could taste Eskel’s moan on the tip of his tongue, calling out to him and begging for everything that he had.

“Yes, love?”

“Take me to bed.” Eskel’s eyes were wide and dark with lust as he finally yanked the sleeves down Geralt’s arms and let it fall to the floor.

Geralt led him towards the stairs, both of them frantically stripping their clothes away, leaving Eskel completely bare and Geralt still in his briefs when they got to the foot of their bed. Eskel dropped to his knees and mouthed at the soft cotton of Geralt’s briefs, nosing along the mostly-soft cock that was still damp with his spend.

Eskel’s eys swam with the vision of Geralt, his hands spread out on their table as his climax washed over him, his eyes hazed and his jaw slack with all-encompassing pleasure. Eskel shifted his knees forward and dragged his hard cock along Geralt’s shin as he teased his cock with his lips, suckling and groaning into his hip.

“E-Esk,” Geralt breathed, sinking his fingers into mahogany brown hair that had no business being as soft as it was. “Fuckkk, you’re too good to me.”

Eskel shook his head and rutted his hips against Geralt’s leg, dripping precome into the coarse hairs that trailed down towards his feet. “N-no. Not good enough. Never good enough for you. But you make… you make me better. Better than I ever thought I could be.”

Geralt knew that feeling. Hells, he felt it every damn day. But they both knew, logically, that they were everything that the other needed, everything they wanted. Eskel would say it though, whenever it popped into his mind, he would question why Geralt chose him. After all these years, everything that they went through together, he still couldn’t let himself believe that he could be enough for Geralt.

Geralt gently tugged Eskel’s hair, tilting his head back to look him in the eyes. Those beautiful golden eyes, brimming suns nestled in the warmest face one could ever hope to find.

“Doesn’t matter if you think you’re good enough,” Geralt murmured, tracing the line of Eskel’s brow and down his jaw, “but that I choose you. Everyday, I choose you. I love you more than every moon, every planet, every star in the sky. And I love you more every day.”

Eskel groaned and leaned forward, licking the line of Geralt’s growing arousal through his briefs. He could taste Geralt’s spend through his briefs as he licked and sucked at the dark fabric, coaxing his husband back to full hardness while Geralt’s fingers combed his hair back from his face, his spine shuddering.

“F-fuck,” Eskel gasped, resting his forehead into the crook of Geralt’s hip, still licking softly at the base of his cock through his briefs. “Ger, I-I need to be inside of you, please”

Well, and who was Geralt to deny a request like that?

"Hmmm, best quit dawdling with my briefs, then. Get in me," Geralt rumbled with his fingers still snugly nestled in Eskel's hair.

"Is this proactive enough for you, then?" Eskel smirked up at Geralt as he yanked his briefs down his legs. Geralt chuckled as he stepped out of them and Eskel shouldered his way between his thighs. He was gentle as he reached back behind Geralt’s balls, wrapping his fingers around the base of the toy and wiggling it free, soothing his fingers around the now empty, pliant hole. “Fuck, you’re still so fucking wet. All this lube and cum here, bet I could just slip right into this loose little hole, couldn’t I?”

And then Geralt felt his feet leave the ground as Eskel gripped hard onto his hips and shoved him backwards, sending him flying through the air to bounce onto the bed. Now, Geralt would deny it till the day he died, but he let out a short, barking, high pitched squeal of delight in the brief moment of being sent airborne by his husband’s hands.

Eskel crawled onto the bed and hovered over him, growling as Geralt planted his feet and twisted the two of them, pushing and yanking and wrestling atop the covers until Geralt was firmly settled atop Eskel, straddling his tree-trunk thighs.

Geralt settled his bum on Eskel’s hips, slotting their cocks together and thrusting lightly, sending sparks up both of their spines at the sudden rush of pleasure that shot through their bones. Eskel keened from the backs of his teeth and his grip tightened on Geralt’s hips. “D-don’t tease, please-“

Geralt grinned wolfishly. “You’ve been teasing me all night, love. You can’t take even a little?”

Eskel growled and his hips thrust harder, faster, bouncing Geralt in his lap. “You already came, I’ve been half-hard since I got you dressed.”

Geralt ground his hips down and cut Eskel off with a groan, still the great heft of muscle and softness under his hands. “I want to ruin you, love.”

Eskel moaned and threw his head back. “Do it, please Geralt. I’m yours. Fuckin’ wreck me.”

Geralt shifted his hips and lifted up on his knees, taking Eskel’s cock in his hand. He watched the shiver ripple through the small of Eskel’s stomach before he scooted himself forward and lined him up at his comfortably stretched entrance and started to sink down oh so slowly.

“F-f... fucking shit, Esk-” Geralt could barely connect strings between words as he was filled so completely, so perfectly.

Eskel moaned loud and unabashedly, his voice cracking as Geralt’s hips met flush with his own. “I-I was right. Sti-mmm. Still so fuckin’ loose, took me like nothing.”

“Now,” Geralt leaned down and brushed his thumbs over Eskel’s nipples, relishing the shockwave that it sent through the surface of his skin. “I’m going to ride you, and I want to make you cum so hard that you won’t be able to walk until tomorrow. Deal?”

Eskels eyes rolled back in his head as Geralt clenched his muscles around his cock, groaning into the space that kept Geralt’s lips just out of reach of his own. “Hu-h... yes, fuck. Deal, p-please…”

Geralt circled his hips and rolled back and forth, not driving Eskel in and out, just coaxing him into every nook and cranny nestled away inside of him. He sat up, bracing his hands on Eskel’s chest, his fingers dimpling into the soft muscle that tensed under his touch. “Mmm, feel so good, love. I wanna watch you shatter for me-”

Eskel’s breath hitched as Geralt shifted up and rocked back down, the slick slide of his hole gripping his cock like the last tether to the map of euphoria he was so desperately following. “I-shit, not... not gonna last long, not like this--”

Geralt leaned back down, the angle pushing Eskel deeper inside of him with each soft, devastatingly slow roll of his hips. “Then don't.”

Eskel felt every inch of his cock dragging along Geralt’s walls, impossibly warm and slick and tight, overwhelming him as he finally found the path to his release. But Geralt was trying him, forcing his hand at patience and restraint. Long, slow thrusts down, driving them further into truly becoming one. His mind frayed at the edges, electric tendrils sparking alight as Geralt’s pace just barely, minutely started to falter, both of them finding themselves at the edge of their patience.

And as Geralt was ruining Eskel, Eskel blabbered endlessly about how good Geralt was. How he loved seeing that floaty look in Geralt's eyes at dinner, knowing Geralt was trusting him entirely. Fuck, how good he looked when he came, and how Eskel could hardly control himself.

Eskel knew how to make it go a little faster. Geralt admired Eskel’s patience, it was something that had cradled him during the hardest days and the warmest times. Especially since Geralt had the patience of a hamster. All it took was a little... tactile persuasion.

Eskel’s hands found those same marks on Geralt’s hips that he had left behind earlier in the evening and fucking lifted him, dropping him back down as Eskel’s cock drove into him at the pace he’d been chasing so desperately.

Geralt slid his hips up and down, taking off at a breakneck pace that Eskel encouraged with wordless gasps and huffs from the depths of his lungs. Their skin slapped hard, Eskel’s shouts of pleasure tearing from his throat nearly drowning out Geralt’s sighs and quiet groans in response.

Geralt tried to keep control, to keep Eskel worn thin and ragged. But Eskel had at least 50 pounds of muscle on him, and besides, Geralt was fucking weak for being a little manhandled like he was nothing. He could feel every shudder that worked its way beneath Eskel’s skin, calling out to him and enticing him closer and closer to his own release.

“E-Esk-” Geralt breathed, his thighs quaking and his stomach clenching with anticipation of what was about to spill from his lips. “Ta...take what you need. F-fuck me, go on-”

Eskel ground his hips up, shoving his cock deep within Geralt with a dull roar that clawed its way from his throat and into the static air that dripped with their arousals. Eskel sat up and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist, his fingers digging into the hollows at his shoulder blades before twisting them around, practically throwing Geralt down onto the bed and hovering over him.

His hair, soft and curled at the ends, dripping beads of sweat onto Geralt’s cheeks, hung down in curtains that bounced and flailed as Eskel ploughed into Geralt. He was mindless, everything he ever wanted to know was hurtling towards him relentlessly from where it was tucked away inside of Geralt. Eskel would follow Geralt to the very ends of the Earth, and Melitele’s tits, it fucking felt like he was about to find that threshold.

Their arousal kept building, bouncing and amplifying off of each other, neither of them able to so much as think further than the immediate moment. Completely lost, with only each other to guide them. It was an overwhelming, all encompassing euphoria that just refused to reach a peak. They sprinted together, needing just that one last little push to finally plummet into blissful oblivion.

It was Geralt who finally spoke, husky whispers as his nails scratched along Eskel’s scalp, clawing at his hair in an effort to find something to hang on to. His bottom lip was swollen from where he’d been biting it, and the words tumbled off of his tongue unbidden. “Esk-love, p…please-“

Geralt didn’t often beg. But when he did? It was almost exclusively when Eskel was balls deep inside of him. And Eskel was weak for it.

The fucking sound that Eskel made when he climaxed was world-shattering, to say the least. A growl torn up from his chest that bursted into a shout, followed by high, breathy gasps into Geralt’s mouth. Eskel’s eyes screwed shut as he ground deep, his hips stuttering and his jaw flexing and shaking as his climax overtook him. Geralt felt the vibrations of Eskel’s chest where it pressed into his own, and when Eskel finally leaned down and mashed his lips to Geralt’s:that’s what finally set him off.

Geralt’s cock flexed and his legs shook where they were wrapped around Eskel’s waist, hot white spurts of spend shooting out of him. Nothing outside of that moment mattered, there was nothing that existed other than the heavy weight of Eskel resting atop him and grinding as he spilled into Geralt. Geralt’s body shook with waves of pleasure that threatened to send him into an impossible spiral into endless euphoria.

Eskel dragged his hands along Geralt’s sides, pressing his lips to any and every inch of skin that he could reach as their orgasms faded, leaving them dripping sweat and breathlessly gasping into each other.

“Damn,” Eskel panted, his voice hoarse and lined with velvet. “Geralt, you came on the sheets again.”

“Fuck,” Geralt twisted his head around, finding the small pools of his spend seeping into the dark maroon of their sheets. He grinned and stuck his tongue out, lapping up a few drops of spend from where it had spattered onto Eskel’s chin. “You love it. I’ll throw the laundry in before I go to work tomorrow.”

“We gotta get better about puttin’ the towel down,” Eskel sighed, resting his forehead down onto Geralt’s. He felt the occasional stunted flutter of Geralt’s ass around his softening cock and fuck he was so warm and good and everything Eskel could ever dream to want.

“Sheet’s are already fucked, go ahead and pull out,” Geralt murmured, trailing his fingers through Eskel’s hair and twisting around the ends.

“What if I wanna keep it in? Just for a bit,” Eskel rumbled, brushing their noses together and blinking his bright golden eyes with just enough softness to melt Geralt’s heart.

Geralt hummed and ran his hands down Eskel’s flanks. “I like when you keep me full. I could take a little nap like this.”

“Go ahead,” Eskel whispered, watching Geralt’s eyelids flutter diligently. “Rest, love. You know I’ll still be here come morning.”

Geralt shook his head and huffed from his nose. “Nuh-uh. W-wanna just hold you. Like this.”

They lay together like that for a long while, Eskel wrapped up in a tight warmth and feeling Geralt’s hands slowly track up and down and across the planes of his back. Everything was so soft, so warm, and watching Geralt’s eyes slowly drift shut, stubbornly blinking back open before falling closed, was lulling him into that liminal space that drifted just before sleep.

“L-“ Geralt cleared his throat and pressed his lips to the corner of Eskel’s mouth, right in the crook of his scar. “Love you, Esk.”

Eskel rolled them to the side and tucked Geralt into his chest, shifting their legs so that Eskel’s soft cock could still rest nestled inside of Geralt. “Love you too, Geralt. Endlessly.”

#wrsb #smut #geralt/eskel #gereskel #gerskel #witcher rarepair summer bingo #otp #dom/sub #heed the content warnings

39 notes · View notes

gremlinp0lice · 4 years ago

Text

Night Lovin’ Thing

Prompt: Draco reacting to finding the reader dancing to muggle music. Specifically Dirty Diana by Michael Jackson. Specifically this choreography. https://youtu.be/JavMJziiLjE

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

Word Count: 3253

Rating: Explicit

CW: Smut, language, voyeurism

Draco Malfoy was an enigma. Spoiled, rich, handsome, rude, and smart as a whip—he could even give Granger a run for her money if he applied himself. All that put into one young man (plus a little ‘bad-boy’ reputation) should make him the fantasy of any teenage witch or wizard, and you were no exception. But you knew better than to chase after him because that’s all it was—a fantasy, a crush, a fixation. With half of the castle out to get him, and the rest out to snog him, there was no way you ever stood a fighting chance. You knew that, and you had made your peace with that. You were much more realistic.

Which made it all the more painful that you found yourself lost in a daydream while staring at the back of his head in Potions class.

“Eyes to yourself,” your desk mate (and roommate), Pansy bloody Parkinson, swats at your arm and gives you a nasty look, “or they might just fall out of your head.”

Rolling your eyes, you go back to your notes, muttering, “I don’t even know what you see in him, Pans, he’s actually a bit of a prat.” Your words seem to light a fire in her, and her eyes burn with rage for a fleeting moment, and she opens her mouth as if to bite back before closing it just as quickly.

You smirk to yourself; Pansy was all talk after all, but she could still be bloody scary when the mood suited her (and it usually did).

You steal another look at Draco, a fleeting glance, really, and see his eyes looking back. He looks almost wounded, as if he had heard what you had said. You turn away, baffled. It must have been a trick of the light, or the fumes from your cauldron—Draco Malfoy would barely give you the time of day, much less be upset over something that you had said.

The lesson, blessedly, concludes soon after, and you practically skip out of the classroom and head for the dormitories, hoping to get there before Pansy does. All the while, all you can think about is the look on his face.

You have about twelve seconds alone in your room before Pansy bursts in, wand drawn. You know she won’t use it (probably), but you pull your own wand close to you just in case.

“That was extremely rude, you know. He heard you. Didn’t your filthy muggle father teach you any manners?” She’s been angry with you before, but never so mad that she has attacked your family. After all, both Tracey and Millicent were half-bloods as well, and she should know better than to bring blood status into whatever squabble you were having.

“First of all, do not speak about my family like that if you value yours, Parkinson,” you snap, drawing yourself to your full heigh (which wasn’t very tall, but you worked with what you had) “and second, I don’t care. Did I upset your boyfriend? What a pity. What are you going to do about it?”

“You don’t even know him, so piss off, and besides,” her wand drops to her side and she wilts, “We’re not together. Neither of us want to be tied down at the moment. It’s called being mature, have you heard of it?”

Clearly, Pansy had not. You also suspect that their arrangement was less than mutual, but you knew how badly Pansy pined over the boy, so you pulled back. You knew how to pick your battles.

“Listen, I may have been out of line in class, and if I see him later, I will apologize, alright?” you offer, and she sniffs, but nods in approval, “But if you ever speak about my father like that again, it’s you who I will have to apologize to, and believe me I will make it count.”

A look of fear passes across Pansy’s face, but she keeps a stiff upper lip, glowering at you. Whatever, you didn’t need this. It was a nice afternoon, and a Friday to boot, and the castle would soon be empty.

Taking a deep breath, you collect your thoughts, ignoring Pansy as she leaves the room in a huff. You change into something more comfortable, something with more movement, and pack your bag with the essentials; the old radio that your mother had charmed for you years ago, and a pair of sturdy, strappy black heels… ready for some release.

Dropping your bag gently on the floor of the dusty room, you take a moment to examine the room. It was a tiny old Muggle Studies classroom, more of a large closet really, on the third floor that you had convinced Professor McGonagall to let you use as a dance space in your fourth year. As long as no one needed the room, you didn’t make too much noise, and you kept it clean, you could do whatever you wanted in here. You had put a lot of work into it, managing to craft a barre (with the help of Professor Sprout) and you even got ahold of some old, floor-length mirrors left behind by Lockhart. With plenty of natural light streaming in from the windows, it made for a pretty good studio. It wasn’t much, but it served its purpose well.

You plop gracelessly to the floor and begin to stretch, feeling that pleasant burning sensation in your hamstring when you lean down so far that your nose touches your knee. As the feeling fades, you feel the stress of your day go along with it; as your body loosens up, so does your mind, until there’s only one thought still stuck in your mind. You roll your shoulders and stand; he’ll go away soon enough when you start to actually move.

With a wave of your wand, the radio crackles to life, it’s not terribly loud, but it suits your needs. It was tuned in to a muggle station playing Michael Jackson’s greatest hits— perfect. You listened to the King of Pop with your father often enough when you were home, laughing whenever he would try to moonwalk across the kitchen floor. There was something about the singer, though, something in his voice that moved you to move as well, something that made you feel powerful, strong, even a bit seductive (not that you would admit that thought to anyone). This was the perfect thing to get you out of your head and into your body.

With another wave of your wand, the door slams shut, and it’s just you and the music, and that’s just the way you like it.

She says that’s okay, hey baby do what you want... I’ll be your night-lovin’ thing, I’ll be the freak you can taunt…

You had found your inspiration, a beat that moved you deeper than any magic spell could and had begun refining the movements that your body had come up with. With a wave of your wand, the song starts over and you return to your first position, you just had to get this right. Not that you would ever show anyone this dance, it wasn’t for anyone else to see.

This was for you.

Though, you couldn’t deny the raw and enticing confidence that this dance was instilling within you, and that maybe, one day, you would dance like this for someone…

With a flip of your hair and a shrug of your shoulder, you were completely focused.

She likes the boys in the band, she knows when they come to town…

Sometimes it made you nervous, the way you could channel the lyrics, written about people you were nothing like, and turn them into a dance that was, inexplicably, them.

This one was all about the legs—kicking, bending over, dropping to the ground in a deep split that made you feel so alluring that when you got to your feet you almost expected to be followed by a herd of salivating admirers. You would look over your shoulder, give them a smirk and a wave before moving on… This isn’t about them anyway.

It wasn’t about him anyway.

You still couldn’t get him out of your head. When you dropped to the floor, you imagined him landing on top of you. When you ran your hands down your chest in time with the rhythm, you imagined they were his hands, pulling you close. And that scared you.

And I don’t care what you say, I want to go too far, I’ll be your everything…

You had never felt like this about him before, never thought about him like this- so obsessively.

Just keep dancing… Out of your head and into your body… You would forget if you just kept moving…

Blimey, it’s so hot in here you can barely breath.

She looked me deep in the eyes, she's touchin' me so to start… She says there's no turnin' back, she trapped me in her heart…

Raising one arm above your head, you pull your loose tank top off with a flourish as you strike a pose. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you look… good. The black bralette you’re wearing (the one with the lace, not the flower print) accentuates your modest curves nicely, and you feel good, sexy almost. How could you not, with the music playing like that, and those lyrics—this is not a song you ever listened to with your father.

Forgoing the choreography that you had been practicing, you decide to let yourself feel the music again, finding a new rhythm for your new confidence.

You had never danced like this before, caressing your body like this, moving your hips like that, shaking your hair out so wildly, so unabashed.

And it felt good.

Until the song ends.

Until you hear heavy breathing from the door.

Bollocks.

You whip around, crossing your arms over your chest, to catch a glimpse of your voyeur, frozen in the corridor. Of course.

Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway; eyes wide, breathless. He’s not moving, he’s not speaking, he doesn’t even have that silly little smirk that seemed to be permanently stuck on his face, he’s just… watching you. Somehow that was worse.

“Malfoy,” you say quietly, voice scantly above a whisper, “what are you doing here?”

Your voice seems to jolt him out of whatever trance he’s in, and he steps forward into the room, which you realize now is extremely small, and closes the door behind him. You instinctively cross your arms over your chest.

“I- I, uh, I just came to talk to you, I didn’t mean to intrude,” he stumbles over his words, eyes bouncing all around the room before landing back on you, “but I’m glad that I did.” His composure returned, he steps forward, eyes dark, one eyebrow cocked and…

There’s that bloody smirk.

“How did you even know where to find me?” you ask, shivering under his gaze, contemplating whether to hear him out or throw him out.

“I hear that you can be found here most afternoons,” he says, chuckling softly, running one long finger along the barre.

“Yes well, you’ve found me,” you start, but you’re not quite sure how to stop. This exact scenario had played out in your head countless times, and you had to take a deep breath to recenter yourself, and not let your imagination run away with you.

“I have, haven’t I?” he looks down at your shoes, dragging his eyes back up your body. Merlin, was he just going to stand here toying with you or do something? “You know, it’s funny. I seem to have completely forgotten what I was going to say. The way you move is a bit hypnotic, I think.”

He’s so close to you, Merlin he’s close. You had never realized how much bigger he was than you—taller, broader, he could throw you over his shoulder as if you weighed no more than a bowtruckle if he wanted to.

This is your chance, you realize. You can apologize to him for what you said in class, just like you told Pansy you would do.

Or you could…

“Did you like what you saw?” you ask, voice low, almost husky. You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye yet, you just can’t.

Draco is quiet for what feels like an eternity, the only sound the crackling or the radio and your breathing.

“Yeah, I really, really did.”

Merlin’s beard, this boy was going to kill you.

“Would you like me to show you some of my moves?” You can hardly believe the words are coming out of your mouth—this is insane, you feel insane! It’s taking everything in you to keep your composure, and you allow yourself to glance up at him.

His grey eyes are dark, cloudy, a few strands of that platinum blond hair falling in his face, and you barely recognize him.

“Actually,” he murmurs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “I was hoping I could show you some of mine.”

That’s all it took for you to take him in your arms and kiss him, which was just as well because he was kissing you back. With both hands tangling in his hair, his loop around your waist and pull you even closer. The feeling of his body pressed against yours is intoxicating, and you have to pull away for a moment to breathe.

“You have no idea,” he mutters between fervent nips at your ear and neck, “how long I’ve wanted this.”

You let your head fall back as he lavished you with his lips and tongue, world spinning, as he begins to guide you backwards until your thighs hit the edge of a desk pushed up against the wall.

Shaking fingers working the buttons of his shirt, you do your best to return his kisses, though it’s hard to maneuver, let along think, when his mouth is doing such beautiful things to your skin.

You can’t explain the magnetism between you two, it’s almost frightening, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It was as if you had known he was watching, as if your dancing was foreplay for whatever was unfolding between you now. You weren’t scared at the thought of him watching you, you liked it, and that scared you more. Or maybe it just turned you on.

“Fuck!” you keened as he sucked hard at your neck, his hands and mouth roaming all over your body, grabbing onto any piece of flesh that they could.

His fingers tease at your nipples through the lace of your bralette, which was so thin and flimsy you may as well not have been wearing anything. You arch into him at the contact, eyes wide as you realize that his other hand is travelling further down your body.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers in your ear, rubbing you through your athletic shorts.

Is this what you wanted, to be fucked by Draco Malfoy in an empty classroom? You never did this sort of thing, not this quickly at least, but there was something about him, about what you felt. Maybe it was the dancing, the music that made you feel like this, maybe it was the fact that he was watching you, or maybe you just really needed a good shag. Whatever the reason, you knew your answer.

“Yes Draco, please,” you choke out, helping him to take off your tiny shorts. You reach down to unlace the heels your wearing, but he grasps your wrist and pulls it away.

“Those stay on,” he says, well, commands, and fuck if you couldn’t come from just his voice alone. You nod and loop your arms around his neck, allowing yourself to be picked up and placed on the desk behind you.

Draco wastes no time, reaching between your legs and thumbing at your clit in a way that makes you quiver beneath him. You breathe hard against his neck as he works two fingers into your cunt, pressing sloppy kisses to the skin there while wrapping your legs around his waist. Merlin did his fingers feel like heaven, drawing in and out of you, curling against your walls so that your vision went fuzzy. If his fingers felt this good, you mused, his cock has to be divine.

On the cusp of orgasm, you bat his hands away, reaching for the button of his pants. As much as you wanted to come, you wanted it to be on his cock.

Pushing his slacks and underwear down to his knees, his length bobs free, red and glistening under your touch.

“Ready?” he pumps his cock once, twice, pressing in close to you. Your head is swimming and you can hardly string together a coherent thought, but you are certain of one thing.

“Fuck me.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, his inside you. You yelp—his cock is much bigger than his fingers, but nothing that you can’t handle. You feel full, grinding your hips against his to get more of that delicious friction.

He mutters a curse under his breath, “You,” he breathes, “are so bloody gorgeous,” he maintains a steady rhythm that is starting to drive you a bit mad, adding to the heat building deep within you, “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted you, and to see you like this now,” he pants, “about to come on my cock… it’s fucking breathtaking.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you, until you’ve wrapped yourself around him, moaning in his ear, and coming, hard. He holds you close, crushing your body into his, fucking you through the aftershocks as you finally come down.

But then something’s not right.

The door opens and you both freeze, panting.

“Sorry for interrupting your ‘you-time,’ but I wanted to say—”

Pansy. Bloody. Parkinson.

You shut your eyes tight as you see the look of complete rage you see spreading across your face, and Draco cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of her.

And he starts thrusting into you again.

“We’re a bit busy,” he says breathlessly, hips still rocking against you, “would you mind shutting the door?”

You hear Pansy sputtering for a moment, before the slam of the door, and you open your eyes.

Draco is gazing intently at you, and bears down harder than before, making your heart race yet again.

You come again, just before he does, his hips stuttering to a halt as you hold each other, pressed together so tightly you wonder if you will ever separate.

You do, of course, but not without some effort. In a breathless heap, the two of you slide to the floor, where you find your wand and cast a cleansing charm. Draco has his back against the desk, and you lean against his chest, trying to catch your breath.

It was nice, holding each other like this. He ran his hands up and down your arms, a soothing motion that tempted you to fall asleep right then and there, but there was much to discuss before that.

“Did… did that—”

“Yeah.”

“Merlin’s saggy left—”

“I know.”

The two of you burst into a fit of laughter for a brief moment, cruelly reveling in Pansy’s subsequent misery.

“Bloody hell,” you groan, an unfortunate realization striking you, “I have to share a room with her.”

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp ff #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #michael jackson #dirty diana #cw: smut #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy tiktok #pansy parkinson #gremlinpolice #cw: voyeurism

224 notes · View notes

ciggylungz · 4 years ago

Text

Miss Ginger

Miss ginger

Blurb night- 2.5k

(request: can you plz do something about Harry being all soft with his kids?)

-----

Harry had always been a family man. Ever since he was a little boy he dreamed of having his own family, couple of kids, a nice family home with a big back garden for the little ones to run around in and him and his wife to attempt to grow some fruits and veg and maybe a few sunflowers or daisies. Simple, modest, pure and quaint but most of all, happy.

The day Harry met Y/n he knew she was special. She had this aura that he wanted to wrap himself in like a blanket. A laugh as pretty as song birds in the morning, a heart of gold, quick wit and full of talent. He knew she was going to be his wife someday, and he swears the day she said yes when he got down on one knee his heart grew 3 times its size.

The pair planned their wedding to be an intimate, beautiful event and with the help of Harry’s lovely mother Anne and Y/n’s combined work they were able to pull it off. They had decided to invite their parents and siblings, their closest friends- which included Harry’s former bandmates who made sure to embarrass the newly wed man during their best man speech- and all of Harry’s god children as well as their parents.

Harry wasn’t shy about crying when he saw his bride walk down the isle towards him, her dress was a simple silk fitted gown with delicate trimming of lace. Y/n chose to wear the same pearl earrings her mother had worn at her own wedding and a diamond necklace Anne had gifted her for the occasion. He really couldn’t help the waterworks making their way down his face as he took in her beauty, he stayed weepy through the entirety of their vows a huge smile across his dimpled face when he finally lifted the vail over her head giving her the first kiss as a married couple. She was his, and he was hers and the pair couldn’t be more smitten for each other even as they stand where they are now nearly 4 years into their marriage.

Over the last 4 glorious, joyful years of being fully committed to each other, sharing a surname and living as a unite the pair had welcomed 2 beautiful children into the world. Alfie who was nearly 3, he was conceived only around 6 months into their marriage yet they couldn’t have been more elated to find out they were expecting. The second was their little girl Rosana that they affectionally called by her nickname ‘Rosie’ and she was now coming up on 10 months old, she was starting to become increasingly mobile already such a bubbly happy little girl who had her dad wrapped around her tiny chubby finger.

Harry was currently on a break, just finishing his first solo tour finally getting some downtime to be home with his family and he couldn’t be happier. He loved every part of fatherhood, he enjoyed getting up in the morning and starting the little ones routines. First Harry would go downstairs, putting a kettle on while taking some breastmilk y/n had pumped from the fridge to warm up, when both of those were taken care of he’d migrate back upstairs into his sons room where he’d usually find his little guy sitting up in his new big boy toddler bed playing with one of the various stuffed toys on his bed as he waited patiently to be gotten up. Harry adored the way his son would perk up when he walked in, opening the toddlers curtains to let the sunshine in giving him a nice morning cuddle before taking him to the bathroom to change out of his pullup into his new big boy underwear since y/n and Harry are finally reaching the tail end of potty training their first born. It had been a struggle, yet every time their little boy danced around with a sticker on his shirt for going on the potty it was worth every bed wetting incident, and all the terrible two’s tears that came with the teaching. After he had him changed, he tried his best to tame the boys hair. The little tyke inherited his fathers chocolate curls unlike his sister who wore a head full of ginger ringlets.

After all of the hygiene tasks were complete, he’d serve the boy his breakfast, steeping his wife and him a cup of tea using the remaining warm water to heat the breastmilk in for when Rosie decided to greet the day. Harry didn’t mind giving his girl a bottle feed so his wife could get a little extra sleep in the mornings, opting to nurse during the day and before bed pumping whatever’s left to hold Rosie over till her mother wakes up.

Unlike some people, when Harry heard the baby monitor start to go off with the cries Rosie gives when she first wakes up he smiles instead of groans. He didn’t get angry when his kids cried, he was actually good at reading the cry’s instead of getting frustrated which always helped calm it down quickly and his little girl would always have a little cry when she’d wake up and think she’s all alone.

As soon as her daddy opened her nursery door the little girl stood up in her cot, balancing herself by gripping the railing to get a good look at who was coming towards her. once the morning light was shining in from Harry opening her curtains the tears stopped and a sniffling nose and big gummy grin was shining on her face, a contagious smile at that.

“Good morning sunshine!” the man raised his voice a few octaves, a big grin on his face as he picked her up from her bed giving her a nice hug as he swayed back and forth. “Did yeh have a good sleep, miss ginger? You look very beautiful this morning my girl, always take your shirt off when yeh sleep don’t ya’ silly girl? I get it girlfriend, sometimes you gotta let it breathe babe. C’mon think it’s time for a nappy change and a bottle hmm?” the little girl giggled at her father, bouncing in his arms and babbling incoherently whilst her dad cleaned her up and got her ready for her morning feed.

Harry set the baby in her bouncer, putting the milk into her bottle checking the temperature on his wrist before giving it to the still topless baby. It was easier to just leave it off during the morning snack, she was a rather messy little girl since she always wanted to hold her own bottle now often letting it dribble onto her tummy as she removed the nipple from her mouth to babble at her father. She always had a lot to say, even if no one but her knew what she was on about, no one had created a baby talk translation app yet so until then her passionate rants wouldn’t be understood.

Alfie was at an age where he wanted to be independent more, he reminds everyone how he’s a big boy, whenever he puts his own dish in the washer or screws the top onto his sippy cup by himself. Both his parents found it absolutely adorable and humorous as well.

When Harry heard the pitter patter of his wife coming down the stairs around 45 minutes after he’d got the kids up, a soft smile etched itself onto his face. He swears every time he sees her, no matter what state she’s in he still finds her breathtakingly gorgeous. Angelic even. Even when he had pulled Alfie out of her as she pushed, he still found her beautiful. Nothing would ever change the love and attraction he felt for his wife.

“Mornin’ love, sleep well?” the man brought his wife into his arms, giving her a warm hug and a kiss on the crown of her head. “Mhm, thank you for gettin’ up with the kids so I could get a few extra minutes of rest. Love yeh h.” she stood on her toes to peck his lips, this far into a relationship and being parents a slightly morning breathy kiss didn’t bother them in the slightest. After you’ve changed some ungodly diapers, smells don’t affect you the same anymore.

“no problem, had an easy morning Alfie was good about brushing his teeth and me and Rosie had a nice cuddle. She woke up shirtless again, I’m starting to get her vibe think I might start just being half naked all the time.” Y/n chuckled at her husband, sipping her tea slowly before responding. “At least it was just her top this time, last week when I got her up she had taken everything off. Had to do an extra load of wash after that one. Silly little girl.”

The couple could fawn over their kids for an infinite amount of time, but a thud from the living room disrupted their banter. The two wore matching raised eyebrows while venturing into the room, being met with the sight of Rosie’s bottle tossed at the wall and the girl herself holding her feet up with her little hands in a split position while still strapped into her bouncer chair.

“Hey missy, throwing things isn’t nice. C’mon time to get dressed, can’t have nakey babies crawling in the garden can we? Neighbors might think we aren’t watchin’ after yeh well enough.” Her mother unstrapped her, bringing her to her chest to kiss her cheeks, her father deciding to chime in, “I think with that chubby tummy and those chunky thighs they’ll know our girl is more than taken care of.”

y/n bounced the baby in her arms, cooing at her and mocking Harry’s words with a baby voiced ‘is that true?! Rosie are you a chunky lady?’ which got them a chorus of baby laughs from the infant.

Once y/n got both of her little ones changed as well as herself cleaned up and changed for the day, she took them back downstairs where their father was sitting on the couch glancing between his phone and the tv screen as he shoveled some cereal into his mouth.

Alfie made a b-line for his dad, excited to show him the outfit his mother had dressed him in for the day.

“Daddy! Daddy look! I got clothes on, mummy says I look handsome! Look I got turtles on my socks, daddy look!” the little boy was over the moon about his clothes. Y/n had chosen some toddler size sweatpants, Alfies favorite t-shirt- a Gucci one Harry had got him which his wife thought was insane to dress a messy 3 year old in a 250 pound shirt, but their son loved it because his father wore the same brand- and some socks with little turtles as the print on them. It was going to be a pretty chill day at home so there was no need for fancy clothes.

“Oh my gosh! Bud you look very handsome, look at my dapper boy! Gimme five, big guy” Harry held his palm in the air, his son jumping to smack his much smaller one to his fathers, beaming from all the praise he’d gotten from his doting parents.

When Harry looked over at his wife holding his daughter his smile got even bigger. There stood his beautiful bride, clad in a pair of his black socks she liked to steal, some comfy adidas sweats and a t-shirt Harry had given her years ago. Her hair was in a sloppy bun, lips slightly shiny with some lip balm and only one earring in since Rosie had snatched the other stud from her right ear and tossed it somewhere Y/n too caught up in her children to even remember to take the second one out even after 2 weeks going by now.

His daughter was in a yellow polka dot onesie and her hair was in a little whale spout on the top of her head. His girl’s looked stunning in even the simplest of clothes, they were his angels and he adored them.

“And look at you girls! Little red head, you look dashing in that onesie! Red carpet ready my girl. And you miss yummy mummy, are stunning today. C’mere I want kisses from my ladies don’t be stingy.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at her husband, even when she looked like she lived in a alley behind a gas station he still made a point to make her feel beautiful. Of course, she adored the way her husband talked to their baby girl too, they had a long talk while she was pregnant with her where Harry vowed to always build up their daughter from infancy till the day he died. No matter how old she is, what she was wearing, if she was covered in gunk from the sandbox or in her future prom dress, he promised to always let her know she was beautiful and loved. Harry never wanted his kids to feel any less than supported, validated and loved.

It was around 1 in the afternoon when Rosie woke up from her first nap, nursing while Y/n and Harry sat together on the couch playing with Alfie and his blocks. The family had a quick bite to eat, hanging out just enjoying each other’s company. Y/n handed their daughter to Harry for him to burp her so she could refill Alfie’s sippy cup and grab both her and Harry some water.

After distributing the beverages she sat on the floor, playing with both her kids and holding Rosie up by her hands so she could dance around in her mothers grip. She loved to dance, she was always on the move crawling full speed everywhere and always squirming whenever she heard her fathers music.

Today the little girl had more in store for her parents, taking them both of them by surprise when she hoisted herself up to cruse holding onto the couch before looking right at her mother suddenly taking her first steps towards her.

Harry and Y/n both gasped, eyes wide and mouths showing huge grins while starting to cheer their baby on waving their hands and praising her whilst the baby took wobbly steps to her mom flopping into her chest before she was lifted in the air and spun around, excited cheers from the entire family as they celebrated her milestone.

“You’re walkin’ now Rosie! My big girl! Oh my gosh I’m so proud of you princess!”

Y/n tossed her into the air gently, catching her then setting her back on her feet letting her walk to her dad who was now in full blown celebration mode hands waving in the air while he cheered. His little girl toddled towards him, squealing as he scooped her up and kissed all over her face.

These were the moments he dreamed about his whole life, and he swears the dream didn’t even compare to the reality now. He’s never been happier.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #harry styles daddy #harry styles dad #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader #harry styles concept #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles blog #harry styles angst

432 notes · View notes

bangingoutthetunes · 4 years ago

Text

Snowfall.

A drabble in which you walk home with your boyfriend in the snow and get to cuddle + braid his hair.

Word count: 2.3k

tags: hair braiding, fluff, bokuto is a human puppy

“Come on, (name)-kun! It’s literally so cold out here I might die!” Kotarou pulled your hand forward and you almost tripped at the sudden jerk. He looked back over his shoulder, puppy-dog eyes wide and shining. A cheerful grin had found itself onto its face at your smile.

“It’s not like I want to be out here in the cold, Kou! I just need to catch my breath, we’ve been running for the past ten minutes and although you’re wearing pants, I’m wearing a skirt and tights. Gimme a break!” If just for a moment, you felt burningly jealous of the pants the Fukurodani’s boys uniform required; they would’ve definitely kept you warm. Panting from the exhaustion, you trembled in his grip a little bit. He walked over to you and pulled you into his chest, chin resting on your hair and arms wrapped around your waist. He smelled like soap and vanilla and like the best parts of cold December afternoons.

Peering to the left of his arm, you took in the scenery around you; snowflakes had begun to blanket rooftops and adorn the naked trees, minivans would drive by full with mothers and their children’s friends, bike riders would exhale dragon puffs of condensation, and some other classmates were huddling at a corner shop to pick up some hot chocolate and coffee to continue on their way.

Having moved from the Miyagi prefecture in early March of this year, you hadn’t gotten to experience snow in a small town on the outskirts of Tokyo. This was of the first times you got to enjoy the gentle fall of friendly snow without having to worry about negative repercussions, and in this moment you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else or with anyone else than Bokuto Koutaoru, the six foot puppy that wanted to take you to his house through the long route so you could catch sight of all the wonderful sights his town had to offer. It was bitter cold outside, but the warmth inside of your chest, slowly spreading to your limbs, was enough to keep you running.

“Are you ready to keep going, princess?” he mumbled into your forehead, absentmindedly doodling on your back with his mitten-covered fingertips.

“Yeah, I’m all warmed up now!” You smiled into his chest, burying your nose into his vest and planting a kiss there as a silent thank you.

“Great, because tag,” he booped you on the forehead with his index finger and stepped back,” you’re it! Last one home owes a cherry soda!” He laughed, brilliant like the sun stretching its fingers through the clouds. The corners of his eyes crinkle and he wrinkled his nose, clearly pleased with himself.

“Oh, it’s on!” You chased after him, having committed the route to memory from walks home so many times before. You ran at a quick pace, but your legs were so much shorter and his training was so much more intense that you could barely stay at fifteen feet behind him. Damn him and his stupid volleyball captain gig!

He slowed down, if just for a moment, to let you catch up to him. He stretched his hand out to you, beckoning for you to hold it. “Come on, let’s get there quicker!” Once you laced your fingers into his own, he yanked you forwards. In no time, you made it to his doorstep. He fished for his keys in his coat pocket and unlocked the door with his left hand, tugging you into the warmth as soon as the door flew open. A gust of hot air flew out of the house, peppering your face in kisses and very welcomed heat. Kotarou stepped inside, and you followed suit behind him, the two of you placing your bookbags on the floor. You began to kick your uniform shoes off when he sneaked up behind you, wrapped his hands together at your belly and pulled you up into the air. “H-hey!” He laughed at your surprise and pulled your back into his chest, waddling with you towards his room.

“Give me a sec, I’ve just gotta get the door-” he placed you down on the flooring while he fiddled with the handle and the door slid open at the kick of his foot. He ushered you inside. “Come, sit on the bed! Get comfortable and change out of the uniform, you’re probably freezing right?” Concern laced his voice as he walked over to where you sat and he cocked his head to the side. “I think I’ll get into something more comfortable, thank you baby!” You reached over to grab his hand and gave it a kiss behind his knuckles, and you could swear you saw him shiver from the ghosting of your lips.

“You’re welcome! I’ll be back in a bit, I’m just gonna get some clothes from the dryer and bring us some snacks. I went out with ‘Kaashi the other day and we picked out some things for you!” Before he walked out of his room, he turned back to wink and blow you a kiss. You giggled at him. God, you’d be damned if he wasn’t the cutest thing to walk this earth. Stretching your arms above your head and wiggling out of the cold, you looked around his room to try and figure out where exactly he had his pajamas. You took a shot at his dresser, and it took a bit of digging but you found the perfect outfit: an oversized grey shirt with old sweatpants would do just fine to warm you up. You slipped out of your blazer and wiggled the skirt off while admiring the decorations in his room; he had some volleyball posters, some framed pictures of him with his sisters, and atop his dresser you saw some papers that made your heart flutter; he had your first movie ticket, Weathering With You, framed and the post-its you’d slipped into his locker decorating the outside of the frame. To the left, he also had a printed out picture he took of the two of you on his phone while you shared a chocolate ice cream cone (with extra sprinkles, of course).

You’d been to Koutarou’s house before, but you hadn’t gotten the chance to walk around his room; since his parents were out working, you’d come after school (on the rare days he didn’t have practice) and cook with him. One of your favorite memories of trying to cook with him was when you tried teaching him how to finely dice scallions; the poor boy couldn’t cut thinly if his life depended on it, and whenever he saw the knife get close to his thumb he would flinch.

You wiggled into his shirt and plopped onto his bed. He had a plush vabo-chan and a horned owl plushie resting in between his pillows. You kicked his throw blanket up so it could cover your legs and shut your eyes for a bit, nothing on your mind except for your angel’s smile and his kisses peppering your forehead. You could feel yourself slipping into a comfortable vibe and it was so nice to be able to rest your body after running in the snow for such a long while. At a knock on the wall, your eyes fluttered open and your gaze traced your boyfriend’s form, hair damp (but drying) against his forehead, long-sleeve shirt tight against his chest, eyes blown wide and smiling, and packs of sour gummies and dark chocolate in his hands. He bumped his body against the light switch to turn the lights in the room off, allowing only the soft glow reflected from white snow to enter from his window.

He ran over to the bed and threw the candies at its foot as he wrapped you in a bear hug. “You look wonderful in my clothes, baby!” He chirped, voice dripping with adoration, as he admired you in his clothes. He was so warm and soft against you, and you wrapped your hands together at the base of his neck and pecked his lips. They tasted like hot chocolate and chapstick and felt surprisingly soft for the cold weather. Even if his lips were chapped, you still wouldn’t have wanted to kiss anyone else’s. You pulled away from the kiss to gaze into his eyes, color reminiscent of sunflowers and sunshine, and your heart fluttered in your chest as his gaze lidded and his eyes smiled.

“What do you want to watch, princess? After all, movie night was your idea!”

You thought for a second, “Hmm, I saw that there was a cool documentary on netflix about international chefs! We could learn a thing or two from it so we can cook the best meal ever, right?”

He threw his head back in laughter and scooched closer to you on the bed, wiggling his feet beneath the blanket and pulling it up so it could cover the two of you. He turned the TV on, remote in hand, and clicked through the buttons until he saw the Netflix app. Flicking over to the Documentaries, he paused when he saw some about food. “Is it the Street Food one?”

“Yeah, baby. We can watch a couple of episodes, the order doesn’t really matter anyways.”

“Cool! I want to watch the one about Argentina! I’ve heard they have amazing steak down there.” For some reason, you hadn’t expected his favorite food to be steak and instead for it to be something more like pure sugar. It had nothing to do with his energy level…

In spite of the absolute fact that he was always riled up and lively, in this moment with his head rested on your right shoulder, he looked at peace. His eyes were glued to the screen (or so you thought, because his gaze was really fixed on your arm as he tried to count all of the freckles there), his breathing was even, slow, and his fingers were gently grazing against the side of your left arm. He really did look like an angel, a piece of expired heaven that fell into your lap and promised to be forever yours. You smiled down at him in a lazy fashion and bent your neck to give him a kiss on his scalp. It smelled crisp and clean, and your belly fluttered when he looked up at you from quirked eyebrows. His hair looked amazing when it was down and, if anything, you almost preferred it to the spiky owl look.

He shifted his weight so he could instead lay his head on your lap. You laced your fingers into his two-toned hair and lightly scratched his tresses. He had been gifted with many things, and among them was a thick head of hair; his locks were silky and plentiful; every meander of your fingers led to more strands resting between them. He seemed to lean into your touch and sighed contentedly when you scratched at a spot at his head that was left of center. He really seemed to like when you would twirl his locks on your fingers, and it made you wonder…

“Kou?”

“Hmm?”

“Could I braid your hair?”

He let out a hearty laugh and turned his head to look up at you. “I’d love nothing more, (name)-kun. Go ahead.”

You sighed, running both hands through his scalp and feeling the silk slide in between your knuckles was so unexpected but so so welcome. He leaned into the touch and tilted his head forward to let you play with more of his hair.

“(name)-kun, it tickles!” He laughed at the foreign sensation and his eyes crinkled shut. He was the sun.

Scratching his head with your fingerpads, you ran the fingers of your right hand up his arm to let him know that he was safe and that the new sensation was just that, something he should begin to get used to. He leaned into your touch, trusting, peaceful, calm. You separated three locks in between your knuckles and began to twist the center and right pieces together. Then, you twisted the right and left ones together, then the left and center. It was difficult because of his shaggy layered haircut, but you could tell from his staggered breathing and the nuzzling of his nose into your thighs that he was absolutely loving this. The first braid looked so pretty because of the contrast between his black roots and silvery locks, and you took a scrunchie from your wrist to tie it in place. Granted, it took five twists and the braid looked SUPER clunky, but you felt like that gave it so much charm. You tugged on the hair behind his right ear and began to weave it together like Arachne weaving her master tapestries, and braid begot yet another until the right side of his head was all tied up in a knot that you would (hopefully) be able to detangle. Hair tucked behind his ear, you noticed that he had a dusting of freckles on the pinna that trailed down to the nape of his neck. The black dusting of freckles against pale skin looked like stardust. He was beautiful.

His breathing steadied, and it seemed like he had fallen asleep at the behest of your touch. A smile was painted onto his face, his nostrils flared and his lips half-parted as if he were having a pleasant dream. This was too much, it was too cute. You shifted around for your phone and took a picture of him in your lap, face glowing from the chatter and brightness of an argentine street restaurant. He looked perfect. You sent his phone the picture and saw it buzz on the bed, screen illuminated with a picture of him giving you a kiss on the forehead. You began to smile, and a look out the window proved that the snowfall had gotten heavier. Your own exhaustion from the day began to settle in and take you prisoner. In between the soft whirr of the heating, Kotarou’s steady breathing, the soft background noise of steak sizzling and Spanish chatter, and the delicate dance of the snowflakes outside, you began to slip into a peaceful slumber. This would be the first of many naps with Bokuto to come.

#haikyuu!!#bokuto koutaro #fukurodani #bokuto x reader #bokuto x reader fluff #fluff #haikyuu! fluff #my writing #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu bokuto #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #bokuto koutaru x reader #katherinewritessometimes

111 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch25: All Dressed Up And Nowhere To Go

Summary: The team work hard to put the events of Sokovia behind them, whilst Steve and Katie set a date for their wedding. But as the Avengers get to grips with their new base upstate, with Tony retired from active service, Steve finds his time stretched perilously thin between his leadership responsibilities and his soon to be wife…and tempers boil over.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, HARD Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: More super edits from @angrybirdcr . And this chapter was always one where I was a little bit ambivalent about the flashbacks and ending, so I kinda changed it up a bit...

Chapter 24 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

July 2015

“You’re up early.” Steve said as he dropped onto the swinging chair besides his girl. It wasn’t even 6 am yet but she was sat outside on their patio “You ok?”

“Yeah.” she smiled at him, as he pecked her cheek, looking out over the dimly lit lawn area of the Newly Opened Avengers Facility which swept down to the banks of the Hudson. The Facility had been the product of one of Tony’s crazy brain farts not long after they had come back from Sokovia and had been remodelled in record time. Whilst some areas were still undergoing renovations, over 80% of it was complete. There had also been changes to their team too. Clint had headed home, the birth of his baby son- Nathaniel Pietro- prompting him to take indefinite paternity leave, all of them fully accepting this was his way of leaving everything behind for good. Thor had left earlier that morning, promising he would return for the Wedding, whenever they finally got round to setting a date. But they still hadn’t heard a thing from Banner and the jet was proving impossible to track. On the plus side, they invited Sam and Rhodey to join the team officially and both had gleefully accepted, along with Vision and Wanda. Lawson was now their chief Technician and Evans had joined the team too, which made Katie happy as she enjoyed their company.

It was starting to grow light, the first rays of sunlight were bouncing off the water to the West. He turned to look at his girl and watched her as she surveyed the river, feet tucked underneath her on the seat.

“No regrets?” he asked, and Katie could feel him studying her face as her mind wandered back to the conversation they’d had when Tony had first mentioned moving to a new base.

Look, Cap, we’re like a trouble magnet,“ Tony explained animatedly, "Wherever the Avengers are, trouble follows.”

“So - you’re suggesting we build another building?” Steve rubbed his neck and looked up at the blueprints Tony had now blown up against the wall.

“I’m suggesting we relocate, completely, leave the Tower to Stark Industries and build our own facility and expand.” Tony said, flipping through pictures with a sweep of his finger. “We have this this old warehouse upstate, good location, middle of nowhere.”

"Less chance of civilian damage.” Steve’s hands fell to the buckle on his belt.

“Full medical wing, Living quarters, as well as a bunch of extra spare apartments, for all the strays we keep accumulating, training arena, kitchen, cafeteria- satellite links- you name it, you got it.”

"How long will it take?” Steve asked and Katie tried not to sigh at the fact that her dream of a quiet life in a nice house in Brooklyn had just blown up in front of her face.

Tony looked affronted. “I’m a billionaire cap, it’ll take however long we say.”

Steve looked at Katie who simply shrugged at him, keeping her face passive.

“Have you two eaten?” she asked, changing the subject.

Tony shook his head as did Steve.

“I’ll fix you both something.” she turned and started moving towards the kitchen area.

“Not for me…” Tony said. “I’ve got a dinner reservation with Pepper at 8…” “Yeah, you might wanna get a move on then, seeing as its 7:30.” She shot over her shoulder as she turned and began pulling stuff out of the fridge to prepare dinner.

“What?” Tony glanced at his watch and frowned “Shit…fuck…”

“You kiss Pepper with that mouth?” Steve quipped back as Tony collected up his laptop and the blue-prints disappeared off the wall.

“FRIDAY why didn’t you remind me?” Tony groaned. “You never asked Boss…” The Irish lilt came back.

“I miss JARVIS…” Tony grumbled, the door clicking shut as he left.

Steve headed into the kitchen and stood for a moment watching his wife as she moved around, before he he headed over to her, his arms wrapping round her from behind.

“Are you okay, you know, with the idea of moving to a new facility?” Steve asked. “I know it’s not exactly the home you had in mind.”

“We’ll be together. That’s all that matters.” Katie shrugged, concentrating on her task- chopping a pepper up for the couscous salad she was making.

“I know but, I just worry sometimes. You deserve better, a quiet life.”

“Not sure we have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” Steve dropped a kiss to her cheek. “You got out of SHIELD, you could get out of this.”

“You know for a moment in Sokovia… “Katie placed her knife down and turned to face him. “I thought… well I thought we weren’t getting out of it alive. And It frightened me, I’m not gonna lie…”

She looked up at him and met his eyes. He knew the whole thing with Ultron and the final show down in Sokovia had shaken her, more than any other mission she’d been involved in. It served as a reminder exactly what is achievable with technology, how fragile humans are, how easily life and peace could be shattered. For that split second, when on that floating city she hadn’t seen a way out, she had genuinely thought their time was up. And her life with Steve cut short before it had even started.

“We stood there, on that rock and in that split second when it seemed everything was lost you know what I felt?” she looked at him and he waited for her answer “Relief. Relief that if we both went down, we did it together and I didn’t have to spend a single day without you…”

“Sweetheart…” Steve began but she carried on.

“I can’t sit by and simply wave you off on a mission wondering to myself if it’s the last time I ever see you. I hated doing that when I left SHIELD and I can’t do it anymore. You fight, I fight.” “So what if I quit?” Steve looked at her. “What if I gave you the life you deserve?” “You can’t quit, and I wouldn’t ask you to.” Katie shook her head, smiling a little. “The world needs The Avengers, and the Avengers need their Captain…” “And their Captain needs his girl.” Steve took a deep breath, his eyes flashing with something that looked to her a lot like worry. She sighed and ran her hands up his arms, bringing them to rest on his shoulders.

“And she’s not going anywhere…” Katie she assured him gently, standing on her toes to give him a peck

She knew the Avengers depended on Steve as their leader even more so now that Tony had said he was hanging up his Iron Man suits for good, choosing to manage and see over the running of the practical side of things instead of active combat. Ultron had really hit her brother hard, but whilst his way of dealing with it was to call it quits, Steve was the opposite. He wasn’t ready to leave this behind for a quiet suburban life. And if being with him meant Katie had to stay too, then so be it.

So, regrets?

“No” she said, taking his hand in hers as she lay her head against his shoulder. “None at all.”

He smiled to himself as her hand began to play with his, the fingers of her left hand gently tracing across his knuckles, the only evidence of her brutal beating last year was the slightly bent pinkie that no matter how much physio she had, she couldn’t extend it fully. He still got a cold shiver when he thought about how close he had come to losing her. She sighed softly, and he looked down to see she was looking at their intertwined hands and then it struck him just how much he couldn’t wait to tie himself to her for the rest of his life.

“Let’s get married.” He whispered gently into her ear.

“I thought we already were.” She chuckled.

“No, I mean let’s do it. Let’s get a date set, the sooner the better. We were supposed to set one months ago and I don’t want to wait any longer.” “Is that what you want?” She looked up at him smiling.

He nodded “More than anything, Doll.”

“Alright. Let’s do it.” He grinned before his lips met hers, the kiss gentle and soft.

“Any ideas on where?” She asked. As a matter of fact Steve did, the idea had come to him a few days ago, but he wasn’t sure if she was going to go for it.

“Well…I errr…thought, maybe, perhaps we could look at the church my mom used to take me to when I was a kid.” He ran a hand through his hair “That is, if you wanted to.” “Steve that’s a lovely idea.” She smiled and he beamed down at her

“You think?” “Yeah. And I’ve been thinking, maybe, we could have the reception here, in the grounds.” she said, looking at him.

“Here?” Steve frowned, he’d assumed she’d want some kind of hotel booking downtown. But as she spoke, he soon realised that what she was saying made perfect sense, and was more them than any flash place they could hire.

“Think about it.” she said, “No security issues, no press, just us, our friends, family… we can get a marquee by the lake…” Katie paused. As a girl she’d always envisaged a huge, fairy tale wedding with hundreds of guests, in The Rainbow Rooms no less. But now, all she wanted was for those people who meant the world to them to be there to celebrate with them.

“Are you sure?” he asked. She nodded. “Never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“Then I’m fine with that.” He smiled, gently kissing her again.

“So you wanna go see this church?” she asked.

“What now? It’s barely light…” “So?” she sat up “I’ll take you to IHOP on the way…” “Now you’re talking…”he grinned.

By the time they had showered, which Steve had suggested they do together, to save water and time (although by the time they had finished there was a lot more water and time used up than if they showered alone) and finally dressed it was gone eight, meaning they hit IHOP at just after half past. As they both stuffed their faces, excitedly talking about their clandestine wedding planning Katie was struck with just how young Steve looked. He was dressed casually in a Dodgers T-shirt, jeans, trainers and a baseball cap, his blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. He was excited.

The church was in a small neighbourhood in Brooklyn and Katie instantly fell in love with the place. St Augustine’s was an old red stone and brick built church with a tall spire. Very Gothic chic, which caught her attention instantly. As Steve climbed out of the car, a rush of memories hit him, the smells, the noises, the sights, everything. It was like he had stepped back in time as he saw his mother grasping his hand softly as she led him up the steps and through the heavy wooden doors. The last time he had set foot in this church, however, had been his mother’s funeral. But now, it was time for something happier.

Steve slipped his arm round Katie.

“What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” Katie said.

Before Steve had chance to reply, a voice with a faint Irish lilt spoke, causing them both to stand and turn to see the Priest walking towards them.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, hi…” Steve smiled, shaking the priest’s hand “I’m Steve…”

“Rogers, yes I recognised you.” the Priest smiled “Pleasure to meet you Captain.”

Steve shook his hand before the Priest reached out to Katie

“So this would make you Miss Stark?”

“Hi.” she smiled, shaking his hand.

“Charmed…” The Priest smiled, his eyes twinkled as he looked at Katie and she instantly warmed to the man. He wasn’t as old as she had expected, maybe a few years older than Tony, the hair around his temples was greying and his eyes were lined but he had a kind smile.

“So what can I do for you?”

“Well, we…” Steve smiled at Katie before he looked at the Priest. “We’d like to get married here. As soon as we can.” The dark haired man smiled and beckoning for them to follow him to the back of the church “I’m sure we can manage that, let’s see what date’s we have free…”

After chatting to the priest, and settling on a date, Steve was taken by a wave of nostalgia and convinced Katie to drop into the small cemetery on the outskirts of Brooklyn. Weaving their way through the stones he finally stopped in between two well weathered ones, which contained the names of his parents. Crouching down he gently wiped away decades worth of grime and he bowed his head, his eyes wet.

“Hey ma.” He said softly, “brought someone to meet you.”

Katie felt the tears springing into her eyes as she crouched next to him, laying her head on his shoulder.

“She’d be so proud of you, Stevie” She said gently, “They both would”

“I hope so.” he said softly and she reached out to turn his head so he was looking at her.

“Baby, how could they not be?”

She gently kissed him before she stood up and made her way to the car, leaving him alone with his thoughts for 10 minutes or so before he came striding out of the yard, and climbed into the driver’s side.

“Could we, maybe update the stones?” he asked after a moments pause “I mean I didn’t have much money back then and I’d like them to have something a bit more, I dunno…” “Of course we can.” she said, tangling her fingers with his, bringing his hand up to her lips so she could kiss his knuckles “Of course we can.”

******

“31st August?” Natasha frowned. She was the first person after Tony who they told they had set a date.

Katie nodded.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah…”

“That’s like…well, it’s weeks away!”

“Look, just be grateful it wasn’t sooner. The priest originally offered us a date two weeks off which Steve was all for taking until I persuaded him to give us a bit more time.”

“You know you could have set this date months ago.” Natasha rolled her eyes “Yeah, I know. I mean it’s gonna be a bitch to organise. If only I had a really good almost sister-in-law and a best friend with amazing military like planning skills that could also double up as bridesmaids…” Katie said, eyeing her as they walked. Natasha stopped and turned to face her friend. “You mean…” Katie smiled at her and nodded “If you’re up for the job…”

“I’d be honoured…” she stuttered, before pulling her into a hug, which surprised her slightly but she returned it gladly. “I’ve never been a bridesmaid before.” “There is one condition…” Katie said looking at her “Can you get Wanda involved in the organisation too? Help her with something other than training or whatever…”

Nat smiled “Sure I can handle that.” Natasha’s response was nothing to the one she got from Tony when she asked him to give her away.

“You know you’re my dad in every way other than actually being my dad…” she said, her fingers on one hand playing with those on the other as she felt her eyes misting “There’s no other person I’d want to walk me up the aisle…” He instantly teared over and pulled her into a hug, not finding his voice for a good 30 seconds as he silently shed his tears over her shoulder.

“I’d be honoured…”he whispered softly, kissing her cheek.

Steve, however wasn’t having as much luck. Rhody, Clint and Sam all accepted his invitations to be Groomsmen (he sent one to Thor via Jane, who also accepted gleefully with a loud, booming phone call) but he was struggling really to decide who to ask as his best man.

His initial thought had been Tony, despite the fact the two of them bitched and bickered at one another, they were close, almost brotherly close. However, given that Tony was giving Katie away in his role as Father/Brother of the Bride that was out. The next obvious choice was Sam, but it all just felt wrong. He was struggling, coming to terms with the fact that his lifelong best friend wouldn’t be the one to do the job.

“I always thought it would be Buck by my side.” he said, looking out over the lawn as he was sat on the patio one evening with Katie, the pair of them with a beer in hand. “He was, is, my oldest friend.”

“Friendship isn’t about who you’ve known for the longest Steve.” Katie said, shrugging “It’s about who came into your life and never left your side.”

Those words had resonated within him, and he realised they made perfect sense. So in the end he did ask Sam, who accepted gleefully. Although when he caught him and Natasha huddled in a corner, looking at something on his phone one afternoon, the pair of them sniggering like a couple of naughty kids he started to wonder what on Earth he had started.

***** Katie sat in front of her mirror and did her hair and make-up before she shrugged on the pale pink jumpsuit she’d bought especially for that evening, slipped her feet into her heels and headed to the living room. It was now 6:30, but knowing Steve as she did, he would no doubt barrel through the door in the next 10 minutes, swearing the way he always did when no one else but she could hear him, shower and be ready to go in 15 minutes flat.

She sighed to herself, she’d had the best day today in a long time. It was the first day in ages she’d had off work and she’d managed to buy her wedding dress. Or should that be Tony had bought her wedding dress courtesy of Pepper and a black Amex. Wanda and Nat had cruised down to Manhatten with he in the Champagne stocked limo, stopping to pick Pepper up on the way. Once in the boutique, it had taken them a while but Katie had finally settled on one, a gorgeous, sweetheart neckline Ivory A-line with lace detailing all-over the bodice which was decorated with crystals. The skirt flared into layer upon layer of tulle decorated with the same lace detailing and beading with the skirt extending into a layered train at the back.

Steve had also had a reasonably productive day. Given that he, Sam and Rhodey were planning on wearing their Military Uniforms for the wedding and that Thor was going to be in his best Asgardian dress gear this only left Clint and Tony to organise for the suits. Katie had already picked them, simple charcoal pinstripes with ivory and gold waistcoats and light blue ties (light blue, pale red and gold were their colours, being a less gaudy variation of red, white and blue which they had agreed on) so this meant all he had to do was sort a fitting for Clint and Tony.

It had been a lot easier than he had imagined, the store already having Tony’s measurements, (because of course he got all his suits from there) and they also had a sister branch about 30 miles from where Clint lived who could sort it for him. So with that done and completed by lunch time his attention had turned to the meetings he had with General Ross and Rhodey about a potential collaboration programme with some of the Armed Forces Specialists. Now he had one final stop to see how the New Recruits for the support team were getting on.

“Hey,“ Steve said as he strode into the training facility before he smirked and nodded over Sam’s shoulder "I’m assuming you told them to take five?”

A confused frown spread over Sam’s face as he turned to look behind him. Every single one of the recruits was standing right staring wide eyed at the Captain.

“Drills!“ Sam shouted “Or you’ll get another 10 laps of the compound!”

“You’ve taken to this training role far too easily.” Steve grinned at him.

“What can I say, I’m a natural born leader.” he grinned “S’up?”

“I’ve been going through the intel on the Cambodia job.” Steve said. “I know the authorities are insisting its some low times arms dealer thinking he can muscle in on someone else’s patch but something smells off.”

“That’s because it is.” Nat said, walking into the gym, tablet in her hand.

“You got something?” Steve asked and she nodded, handing him the item.

“Cross referenced the MO. Matches an attack on an Army Munitions factory in Calcutta. And one in Tayshet, Russia” she said “And this is the culprit.” Steve looked down at the photo up of a man in what looked like a White Hockey Mask.

“He’s calling himself Crossbones.” Nat said as Sam moved to look at the photo.

“Great…another rogue arms dealer.” Steve rolled his eyes.

Sam snorted “What kind of dumbass name is Crossbones?”

Steve sighed and looked at Natasha “We got any info on who he might be?”

“I contacted a few people.” Nat said vaguely. “One of my contacts came through and says he has something but will only speak in person.”

“How soon can we go?” Steve looked at her.

“I’ll talk to them, see what they say.” She said.

Steve nodded “Ok, well I don’t think it needs the full team so me and you will go, Sam you can hold the fort here. We should only be away for a day or two.”

Sam shrugged “You’re the boss.” “I’ll make a few calls, tell them to expect us.” Nat said. Steve nodded and she straightened up. “You talked to Katie?”

“Not since this morning why?” Steve looked at Nat.

“She got a wedding dress today.”

“She did?” Steve’s face softened just the way it did anytime someone referred to their wedding. “Hang on, am I allowed to know that?” “Think it’s pretty safe to know your future wife’s bought a wedding dress, you know, on account of the fact you’ll be getting married soon.” Sam snorted “You’re just not supposed to see it before hand.”

“How long did she take to pick it?” Steve looked at Natasha, a grin on his face. Natasha smirked back at him.

“Not that long, because I’d already rung and told them the type of thing she like so nothing she tried on was hideous to her. We were in there a couple of hours, then went for some lunch and did a bit more shopping.”

“Good.” Steve nodded. “She’s been working really hard recently so she deserved a day off. I feel like I’ve hardly seen her over the past few weeks with everything that’s been going on.”

Which reminded him, he couldn’t wait to take her out that night for a well overdue evening together. They’d both been so busy with setting up the compound, her business and he was looking forward to them both escaping the hustle and bustle. Which reminded him, he needed to go.

Nodding to the pair of them, smiling as Sam barked another order, he wandered into the corridor. It seemed a lot less busy than usual. Maybe everyone had taken an early finish for some reason, although he couldn’t think why for a Tuesday. He glanced at his watch and gave a start. “Shit…”

They weren’t taking an early dart, he was taking a late finish.

Katie was sat on the couch, shoes long since abandoned along with any hope that they were actually going anywhere, and was half way through a bottle of very expensive Pinot Grigio that she had bought for them to have once they got home by the time Steve blustered into the apartment.

“Shit, shit…baby I am so sorry!” he said, as Katie looked up, not even able to bring herself to be pissed off anymore, she’d been angry about half an hour ago. Now she was just disappointed. “The meeting with Ross and Rhodey took a bit longer and then something came up on the Cambodia thing” he continued, sighing “Time just got away from me.” he stopped as he drew level with the couch “You look gorgeous.” “Shame it was for nothing” She said, rolling her eyes, turning her attention back to the TV and the re-run of Friends she’d been watching but not paying attention to.

“We can still go…”

“There’s no way we’ll make it.” she said, pointing to the clock with her eyes “Its forty minutes into Manhatten and you need to change.” “I’ll call, push it back…” he said after a moment’s pause. “Just forget it.” she sighed “Honey…” he dropped to his knees in front of her “Don’t be like that…we can go for a drink or something.” “I’m not being like anything.” she snapped back. “You’re the one that told me to ready by seven, well I was…you on the other hand-”

“I know and I’m really sorry.” “I know.” she said, standing up “You said. Look, it doesn’t matter. Not like I had anything special to talk to you about or anything…”

“What do you mean?” He frowned, “What-“

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

“Katie…” he sighed as he rose to his feet too.

“I’m going to get changed and take a dip in the hot-tub with the rest of this bottle of wine and a manuscript, might as well make the most of my spare time” she said, grabbing the ice bucket as she headed to the hallway “Your presence is not required.”

*****

“Uh oh, what you done?” Natasha asked as she walked into Steve’s office the next morning, finding him browsing delivery sites for flowers.

“Last night was supposed to be Date night.” He muttered with a sigh “I was late, and we missed our reservation. First time I’ve ever done that. Katie was not happy.” “So I suppose now isn’t a good time to as if you’re up for a trip to Russia tomorrow.” Nat said, and he let out a groan. Katie had hardly spoken two words to him all evening and this morning before she had left for her office at the other end of the compound. Today was Wednesday, one of the 2 days out of 5 she worked on SIP stuff during the morning, then trained in the afternoon, a way for her to keep her toes in with the Avengers training.

“You’re right, it’s not.” he said, “But she’s pissed at me anyway so…”

“You sure it’s just about date night?” Nat asked, “Not like her to get so annoyed over something like that, especially if, as you say, you’ve never done it before.” “Well like I said yesterday, this place has been taking up a lot of my time” He shrugged. “She’s probably feeling a bit neglected. It’s my fault completely.”

“Well instead of wasting money on flowers…” Nat said, nodding to his screen. “Go and find her now, take her somewhere for the afternoon. I’m supposed to be sparring with her in 15 minutes, we can reschedule.”

Steve hesitated. “What about…” “I can handle the arrangements for Russia.” Nat said, “Just go.”

Katie’s bad mood hadn’t got any better by the time she finished her work for the morning and it got even worse when she reached the door of the main gym area and paused as one of the new recruits, a girl called Jenny Allen, was midway through a full on bitch rant.

“Who the hell does she think she is anyway? I mean…” “She’s a damned good agent.” Evan’s voice cut her off “One of the best I worked with, one of the most outstanding snipers I know so…” “Yeah well she still shouldn’t just be allowed to dip into missions as and when? I mean, we all train our asses off and she just walks around, like she’s hot shit just because she was trained by some SHIELD legend when we all know the real reason she was pulled into SHIELD and the Avengers in the first place is because of her name…” “You’re out of line…” “And let’s face it, she’s only here now because she’s engaged to Cap, and owns half the gaff…”

“I mean, they are two pretty good reasons” Katie said, pushing the doors open and walking into the gym. She had to give Allen credit, she started bit but then recovered and stood tall.

“Katie, I…” Evans started but Katie cut him off. “It’s ok…she has an opinion, she’s entitled to it. Say what’s on your mind Allen.” “I just…” she took a deep breath “I don’t like the way you seemingly get to swan into missions, with little to no training like the rest of us. It’s dangerous.” “Dangerous?” Katie folded her arms over her chest.

“Yes, dangerous. You don’t know how we operate as a team, I mean are you still versed in hand to hand?” Versed? What the fuck?

Katie raised her eyebrow and smirked at Evans who instantly spotted the look on her face. Fuck this, she’d been waiting to give Allen a smack since she had caught her batting her eyelids at Steve, practically trying to climb him when he’d been running over a report with her. What better way was there to fix a bad mood?

“I tell you what.” Katie said “why don’t we find out? I’m due to spar with Widow but you’ll do.” “I err…” Allen hesitated slightly. “Nova I don’t think that’s a good idea?” Evans cut int. “I mean…” “No.” Allen said, straightening up. “It’s fine…I’m game.” Katie turned to drop her water on a bench and started to wrap her hands in the bandages she had.

“Go easy on her…” Evans whispered in Katie’s ear. She looked at him innocently.

The pair of them started to circle and Katie waited, waited like she always did for her opponent to make the first move. She watched, quickly noting that the woman favoured her right, so she was right handed. She was also a bit taller than Katie, and stockier but that wasn’t an issue, she’d floored Sam before and Evans come to think of it.

As Allen came in with a right lead, Katie ducked and aimed a harsh left jab at her mid-section, causing the woman to let out a gasp of air. She recovered fast, coming in again and Katie moved to the right so the blow glanced off her ribs and aimed a kick to her right knee, causing her to stumble slightly. As she straightened Katie was waiting and landed a hard jab straight to her face, causing her to reel as her nose began billowing crimson. There were hisses from the watching recruits and she vaguely registered Evans to tell her to take it easy but she wasn’t listening. Allen wiped at her face and came at Katie, full on, which was what she had wanted, she’d riled her enough to make her want to fight fierce but as she came Katie threw herself to the left and swept both legs from under her. She crashed to the mat and in an instant Katie had her on her front, knee in her back as she yanked her arms back.

“You’re right…” Katie bent over, lips close to her ear as she struggled, making Katie pull even more “I do own half this gaff, and my brother owns the other half. Something you need to remember when shooting your mouth off, and trying to climb my fiancée in his office…” “I wasn’t-.” she protested and Katie cut her off with another yank.

“If you so much as utter another word commenting on my fighting skills again. I will rip your arms out of your sockets, right before I have you escorted out of my compound, you got that?” “Yeah I got it.”

Steve paused at the sight in front of him. Following Natasha’s advice he’d headed to the gym, ready to take his girl out for the afternoon, only to find her pinning Allen to the floor, the woman’s arms yanked behind her back and her nose bleeding on the mat.

“I tried to stop them…” Evans looked up at Steve who made a noise in his throat and strode towards the two women. “Katie that’s enough!” his voice rang out loud across the gym. “What the hell is going on?” “Allen had some worries I wasn’t field ready.” Katie let go and easily got to her feet, looking at him, a flash of anger in her eyes, the fact he had used his Captain’s voice on her hadn’t gone unnoticed. “So I offered to show her, put her mind at ease.”

“Yeah well I think you’ve made your point.” he said, looking at Allen as she stood up holding tight to her nose, pressing firmly to either side to try and staunch the flow of blood from the single quick right straight Katie had hit her with before the take down.

“Do you need medical Allen?” Steve asked. She shook her head. He turned his attention to Katie, and glared at her “I don’t know what the hell is going on here…” “I just told you.” she shot back. “I was showing how field versed I was…” “By punching her in the face?” he said, his hands falling to his belt. Katie folded her arms and glared back at him.

“We were sparring.” “You were trying to rip her arms out of the sockets…”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Katie rolled her eyes earning herself a glower, a look which would quell anyone else but not her, she wasn’t scared of him. “Maybe now she’ll think twice about making shitty comments.” “If someone punched you every time you made a shitty comment you’d never get up.” he said back, no trace of humour in his voice, because he didn’t find the issue funny at all. He eyed her again before he nodded to the door “Go.” Was he serious? One look in his eyes told Katie he was.

“Fine.” she shrugged, picking up her water bottle before she left. Natasha, who noticed the tears in her eyes went to stop her but Katie waved her away. Steve watched her back before he turned to Evans, pointing to Allen

“Patch her up and then I’ll see both of you in my office. AND GET BACK TO WORK!” he bellowed round the room.

Evans and Allen both nodded and left.

Steve noticed Natasha was looking at him from the doorway, arms folded.

“Got something to say, Romanoff?” he asked, snappily.

“What could I possibly have say when you handled that so well?” she asked sarcastically. “FYI, you might want to take your shield back home with you later, I can’t expect Nova’s gonna take to being stripped down in front of people so well…” She levelled Steve with another look before she left and he let out a groan of frustration. Could this get any worse?

By the time he got back to his office both Evans and Allen were waiting. And when Evans explained what Allen had been saying, Steve was even more frustrated as he wasn’t surprised Katie had reacted the way she did, not that it made it right, just a little more understandable. He unloaded on the woman, gave her a verbal warning and then dismissed them both. Then, deciding it was time to face the music at home he headed to their apartment.

Katie had made it back to their quarters before she had burst into tears. She knew she was being unreasonable in a lot of ways. The Compound was still finding its feet, so of course it wasn’t going to run like clockwork and obviously Steve was going to be working long hours. She was too, she wasn’t completely innocent in that respect. The issue was him missing date night was something he had never done before and it had surprised her a lot. Was she getting less important to him as the time went on?

Angrily she stripped off, changed into her bikini top and her denim shorts before she grabbed her book intending on heading out to the patio area to top up her tan in the August sun.

She was in the kitchen, grabbing herself a beer when Steve came back.

“You alright?” He asked.

“No.” Her tone was clipped, “But thanks for asking.”

He rolled his eyes “Katie…”

“Excuse me.” She went towards the door, but he didn’t move.

“Steve, get out of my way.”

He still didn’t move. “No, you’re not going anywhere until we sort this out.”

She groaned and looked up to the ceiling.

“Wanna tell me what your problem is?” he asked

“Right now, you, not letting me out of this fucking room.” she sighed, rubbing at her temples.

“Look, I know you’re pissed at me for last night and I get that, but..”

“That is not the problem!”

“Then what is?” He shot back, somewhat exasperatedly. “Honey, I can’t fix anything if I don’t know what I’m supposed to be fixing…”

” That!” she looked at him, her voice loud “That is the problem! That you have no fucking idea what the matter is! You’re so wrapped up in running this place I hardly get a look in. You don’t ask for my input, you don’t involve me in anything…”

“Woah, now hang on.” He stepped forward. “When we moved here you said you didn’t want to run anything…”

“And then you order me out of the fucking room in front of the damned trainees!”

“Yeah well you can’t just kick the crap out of one of my team members like that”

“Yeah well your team member is an asshole.” Katie rolled her eyes. “She deserved it for being a dick…”

She took the opportunity to dodge round him and out of the doorway he had vacated when he stepped into the kitchen and made her way to the doors at the back.

“Right now you’re being a dick”

“I’m not. I just don’t want to play second fiddle to your fucking Army Camp anymore.” “Army Camp?” he let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Yes Army Camp” she said, spinning round.

“You’re being ridiculous.” he shook his head, running his hand through his hair. “Absolutely ridiculous.” “And that doesn’t help!” she glowered at him “When I’m pissed off or upset, you telling me I’m being ridiculous…” “Well you are…” A chuckle escaped his mouth before he could stop it.

“Stop fucking laughing at me!” She yelled, the heat rising up her neck and to my ears. He was really, really pissing her off, her could see it on her face he took a deep breath as she continued. “Tell me I’m wrong, tell me this whole thing isn’t about reclaiming some of that time and life that was stolen from you?”

“You think…” He stopped and cocked his head to one side, trying to make sense of what she was saying “You think that this, all of this…” he waved his arms around “Is some kind of trip down memory lane?” “Well isn’t it?” He shook his head, snorting, giving her comment the contempt it deserved. “You couldn’t be further off the mark if you tried.”

“Well from what I see it looks like you’re simply trying to re-live your Howling Commando days.” She snapped back “And I have news for you Steve, I’m not Peggy, no matter how much you wish I was.”

The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them and they felt like a slap to his face. But instead of it upsetting him, he found himself boiling over with anger at how fucking ridiculous she was being. They had been through this time and time again, he’d shown her and told her at Clint’s she as the most important thing in his life, hell, they were getting married in less than three weeks for fucks sake, what else did he need to do?

“That’s out of order and you know it.” His voice was low. What do I have to do to make you realise you are what I want? Not Peggy, you…”

Suddenly the shitty nature of her words began to sink in and Katie found herself unable to look at him anymore, so she turned her head to the side. So he crossed the room and grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger forcing her to look at him. As she looked back his jaw twitched slightly, a mixture of hurt and anger in his eyes, the furious energy radiating off him and then that ridiculous part of Katie’s brain that controlled her libido piped up, this was fucking hot. Her breathing hitched slightly and he felt it too.

“Fine, if that’s what you want…” he practically growled as his lips crashed onto hers and before she could even think to kiss him back, he pulled away - leaving her wanting and moving toward him to try and catch his lips again. Her hands reached for his face, desperately trying to bring him back to her. At the motion, his hands grabbed her wrists and forced them back to her sides, clearly, but wordlessly telling her who was in charge.

There was a slight pause between them, both trying to catch their breath from the row that had just occurred and from the searing kiss he had just delivered. Then their lips found one another again, his hands moving to her waist to both pull her closer and he began to tug at her clothes. Getting the hint, she acted in tandem, hands falling to the clip on his utility belt, fumbling with it for a second in her rush before successfully releasing it and then going for the flies on his uniform pants. Steve popped the button on her denim shorts and in a quick swoop shoved them and her bikini bottoms down as they both stumbled around the room.

He took hold of her hips again so to manoeuvre her wherever he wanted. They continued to stumble around the room for a moment before he took control and roughly picked her up. Her bare legs immediately wrapped around his still fully uniformed waist and her arms went around his neck as he slammed her up against the wall at the far side of the lounge and, using it as support he shifted his grip from under her ass. One hand went to her hip while the other pried her hands from the back of his neck. He was able to hold both of her wrists together with one of his hands, placing them up above her head and holding them there tightly.

This was angry sex, not make up sex, this was utter ‘I’m so fucking angry at you so I’m gonna show you.’ sex. Well, she was angry too so there was no way he was having this all his own way.

She rolled her hips, hard against him which was enough to get his attention but he simply used his free hand to shove her legs off of him. Katie managed to catch herself on her feet, only slightly bumping against the wall but before she had chance to think his lips found hers again, hungrily kissing her while his hand skated over her bare stomach. She arched into the touch, wanting him to move a bit south, but his hand stopped an inch away from where she wanted it to be.

“Say you’re sorry.” his voice was right by her ear, rougher than she could ever remember it being before. Rough enough to make a shiver go down her spine and for her to try and thrust into his hand, desperate for any sense of relief. But he pulled even further away from her, making her whine a bit. “You’re sorry and you believe me…”

“I’m sorry.” she breathed out, stumbling over her words “And I believe you…”

He surged forward, kissing her desperately and she openly moaned into his mouth as two of his fingers slipped inside of her. His motions were fast and aggressive and he brought her to the brink, and then stopped.

“Do you still believe me?” he breathed out, voice ragged. “Tell me you do and you want this.” The fucker was still making a point but by now Katie really didn’t care.

“Stevie, please.” she thrust her hips out toward him, gasping “I still believe you, I want you.”

It was want, not need. And that didn’t escape his notice. He knew which one he would prefer to hear, to be wanted over needed any day.

He couldn’t help the soft smirk on his face as he braced one hand on the wall beside her head, the other harshly yanked one of her legs up so that it wrapped around his waist. Reaching into his pants he freed his now painfully hard erection from them and didn’t even pause before slamming into her, making her cry out sharply, one hand going to grip his bicep, the other against the wall to steady herself. He slammed into her over and over with such force that she was sure she was about to go through the wall itself and into the hall.

Desperate to be both closer to him and not to actually go through the wall, because that would be awkward to explain, not mention painful, Katie tried to lean in more to him. The motion made him go deeper inside of her, which caused her to moan at the feeling. At that point Steve quickly removed his hand from the wall and lifted her off her feet. Their chests pressed together, the bare skin of her stomach rubbing against the harsh Kevlar of his uniform, both messily kissing each other as Steve stumbled around the main area of the lounge before toppling over the arm of the couch where Katie ended up on top. Even then he continued his aggressive thrusts, his hands on her hips, pulling her down as he drove upwards.

She let out a small groan, the roughness of his pants was grinding against her clit along with the fact he was bottoming out inside her, hitting her spot again and again.

“Shit, Captain…” she hissed and the noise made him slam up even harder, fuck he loved it when she said that when he was being tough. She let out a loud scream and tightened around him and at the feel of her walls clamping down, which was fucking bliss as always, his thrusts upwards became desperate as he chased his own end, before he gave a loud “fuck…” and he came, hard as she collapsed on top of him.

The pair of them lay, utterly spent and his hands gently ran up her spine as her face pushed into his neck.

“Still pissed at me?” he murmured.

“In a fashion.” she responded as she picked her head from her shoulder and rolled to the side so she was between him and the back of the couch. He moved so they were facing each other, gently nudging her nose with his.

“Can we talk this over like adults now?” his voice was still quite stern. Katie bit her lip as she looked at him and he sighed, his voice becoming softer “I hate rowing with you. But I still don’t know what’s going on. Please talk to me.”

“You shouldn’t have ordered me out.” she said.

“You broke Allen’s nose.” Katie had to fight the smirk crossing her face. Good shot.

“it’s not funny.” “It is.” Katie said “She deserved it.”

After what Evans had told him, Steve kind of agreed to be fair and Katie saw his face soften slightly. “Evans told me what she said.” Steve brushed her hair behind her ears “For what its worth she’s had an official warning.” “Did you go all Cap on her?” Katie raised an eyebrow “Bet she loved that…” “What do you mean?” “Oh come on, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed…”she snorted before putting on an airy voice “oh Cap…that’s so funny. Hey Cap, can you show me how to do this take down. Oh Cap, you’re such a good teacher… she was practically trying to climb you the other day in your office.” “You’re jealous…” he smirked.

“I don’t like people touching my stuff.” she sighed “Especially not some 28 year old blond bombshell.” “Blond bombshell?” he snorted.

“What? She’s hot.” I shrugged “I’d do her.” His eyes flashed cheekily “Now there’s an image.” She narrowed her eyes at him and he laughed before sighing again.

“Listen to me…” he said, his hand then coming up to caress the side of her face as he looked at her, driving his words home. “You are the most important thing in the world to me and there’s no other girl that comes close, not matter what you think. Not Allen, not Peggy, no one. And as for playing second fiddle…” he gestured with his spare hand around the room. “Say the word and this all goes.”

“Yeah right. You’ll never give up being Captain America…”

“I would for you.” He said simply.

Katie looked at him, he’d shocked her, but he meant every word. If he had to give all this up, he would. He didn’t want to but, he would. The magnitude of what he had just admitted took a while to sink in, but when it did Katie was overcome with emotion, and the tears pricked at her eyes.

“Hey, come on.” Steve let out a soft sigh, as he held her close, rubbing his hands softly up her back. “You wanna tell me why last night was such a big deal, and yeah, I know that I messed up but, well I’m getting the feeling there’s a little more to it.”

With a deep breath she pulled back and licked her lips. “I err, I just wanted to tell you something and I wanted it to be special because I know how much it means to you, but, well, I made a decision on my name. You mean everything to me, Steve, and when we get married I wanna give everything to you, so, I wanna be Mrs Rogers.”

Her words took a moment to sink in and once they did, a huge grin spread across Steve’s face. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, smiling. “We’re tying ourselves together for life and I want everyone to know that I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“I’ll always be yours, Baby.” He whispered, as she leaned in to kiss him, as he wrapped an arm around her waist while one of her legs slithered in between his.

Soft, gentle kisses were shared as Katie gently reached for the zip of his uniform top, undoing it and then guiding his undershirt over his head as he undid his pants fully, shimmying out of them before he guided her onto her back while he shifted so he was caging her in between his legs. This time the mood passion, not anger.

“You have no idea what you do to me…” he whispered gently into her ear as he undid the strings on her bikini top leaving them both completely bare. She let out a groan as she titled her hips up. He closed his eyes as her hand came to rest on his cheek and he leaned into the touch as he shifted so her legs parted and he was inside of her again.

Tilting her head back at the feeling left her neck exposed, which Steve took advantage of in pressing soft kisses up her throat. His hand snaked up her arm so he could intertwine his fingers with hers. He slowly rolled his hips against hers, instead of the frantic rhythm he had prior. The hand that wasn’t entwined with hers went to her hip, pulling her closer as he thrust deeply, gently, slowly, each roll of his hips hitting her spot as he continued over and over again, head dropping to my neck, collar bone and breasts which he had paid no attention to before.

“Stevie, you feel so good…” Katie moaned and he let out a groan of his own at her words. When her orgasm rolled over her again, this one not as ferocious as before, but no less pleasurable she melted underneath him, breathless, her hand running through his hair as he came again, collapsing on top of her

The moments after they finished were always their favourite. The quiet bliss that surrounded them like a bubble, keeping them safe from the world.

“I love you.” Katie said softly. He picked his head up from where he had it buried in the crook of her neck so he could meet her eyes.

“I love you too.” he responded, pushing some hair out of her face, thumb circling her cheek. “I can’t wait to make you Mrs Rogers.” He whispered, his lips ghosting over hers.

**** Chapter 26

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfic #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

70 notes · View notes

thatotherfooltheycallweaver · 3 years ago

Text

Another test

A completely different fic that im working on

Tuesday afternoons are always oddly slow, regardless of the location Cordelia found herself in. Earlier that morning, her brother had asked her to take on the role of his receptionist for a few days, as the woman who usually worked at the front desk of his office was unable. She sat at the desk, reorganizing papers out of complete boredom. Men had been coming in and out all day, but she felt like there was nobody she could talk to. She was more than happy to help whenever she was needed, but it was, in her mind, ridiculous that there was nothing to do. With a sigh, she tapped her fountain pen against the loose papers--schedules, notes, and other things--it almost took on a pointillistic look on the page. She leaned on the desk before noticing that her hair was a bit of a mess and started trying to pin stray strands back into place--she knew she should have been more careful when she was doing her hair that morning. She hated having her it pinned up, but attempted to be more professional, for her brother’s sake. She had heard rumors of a baronet all the way from England--she couldn’t remember if they had specified from where in that country--would be visiting Buffalo for the time being. A baronet, no less. That title was uncommon enough to warrant questions, as nobody she spoke to understood exactly what it meant. She made it a point to ask her friend, Edith, later--she would likely know. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the door open and shut. A tall man dressed in all black walked in, carrying a wooden case. The only other visible color on him was the silver chain of a pocket watch. He removed his top hat as he approached the desk, revealing short, dark, slicked-back hair under it. His eyes met hers for a moment and he smiled.

“Good afternoon, miss. I’m looking for a Mr. Baker. I have an appointment, though I suspect I’m a bit early.” Cordelia looked through the papers to find if there was something written down. “It’s for Thomas--ah, I’ve a card, my apologies.” He took a piece of paper out of his pocket. Printed across it, in neat black ink, was the name ‘Sir Thomas Sharpe’ and the title of Baronet under it. She had no idea how accurate the rumors would have been, but each of them mentioned he was attractive. They were inaccurate, as none of them could accurately capture how handsome the gentleman before her truly looked. Though tempted to keep him in the lobby until it was time for him to go back to speak to her brother for answers--she was curious, wanting to know more about him--she decided against it.

“My brother wouldn’t mind if you went back early, actually. If you’re ready to, of course.”

“Really?” He asked, a bit surprised. “Yes, miss, I am ready. Where do I go?”

“I can show you.” She stood, deciding against prying for information and resigning to interrogating her brother later--she didn’t want to risk seeming nosy or inconsiderate. “My name is Cordelia Baker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Baker.” He nodded with a smile. They reached the end of the hall and she knocked on the doorway.

“I’ll be right there.” A voice from within called.

“I wish you the best of luck.” She looked at Thomas, smiling.

“Thank you.” His eyes met hers for a moment. “I might just need it.”

“I have full confidence that everything will go well for you.” There was a look in his eyes; as if he was unused to warm smiles and genuine words with no hope of recompense--no cynicism or idle words. He was unsure, for the moment, if it was how America simply operated...or if she was one of those rare, kind souls. The type that would set him free from all the horrors, all the burdens--he pushed the thoughts away from his mind, reassuring himself that he needed to take things one step at a time. Thomas brushed off his coat in an attempt to make himself at least feel more presentable. The door opened, and a man a little shorter than the Baronet was standing there. He had strawberry blonde hair and was wearing a blue shirt with a tawny vest over it.

“Sir Sharpe.” He held out his hand to the dark-haired man. “I’m Anthony Baker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” Thomas shook his hand. “Thank you for agreeing to see me, I truly appreciate it.” He let go, the shorter of the two opening holding the door to his office open, motioning for him to follow. Cordelia left, wanting to give them privacy if they wanted.

“Please, just call me Anthony.” He said with a smile, gesturing to the chair. “I don’t know what you plan, but do make yourself comfortable.” Thomas found it odd. Other investors had not been anywhere near as considerate, or kind. He did not understand it, but he wasn’t going to waste such an opportunity.

“I have a model. May I?” He asked, gesturing to the box.

“Of course.” Again, much to his surprise, Anthony actually picked up some of the papers and things to make a bit more room for him to work. He was ready to take notes and already seemed interested. As if he was half-expecting the redhead to change his mind, the baronet quickly set the small model up, taking the jar and box that was inside. The man across from him watched, allowing him to concentrate. Taking a breath, he did his best to steady his sudden nerves.

“The Sharpe clay mines have been royal purveyors of the purest scarlet clay since 1796. In its liquid form, it is so rich in ore and so malleable that it can produce the strongest bricks and tiles.” He gestured to the jar, left of the machine model.

“May I?” Anthony asked, gesturing to the smaller wooden box with a clay tile in it. Thomas nodded. “I've never seen anything that vibrant a shade of red in my life.” He mused, letting him continue explaining.

“Excessive mining in the last 20 years has caused most of our old deposits to collapse. This is a clay harvester of my own design. It transports the clay upwards as it digs deep.” He turned the machine on. “I have absolutely no doubt this machine will revolutionize clay mining as we know it.” Anthony looked at the machine, amazed.

“This is very impressive.” Thomas looked up, a bit caught off-guard, unused to compliments. Now he had to wonder if it was those two siblings, or it was the country.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Have you had a chance to test it, full-scale?”

“Not yet, but we’re very close. We’re hoping that with funding, it will work. I've built the harvester on my estate, but more parts would be needed to keep it running smoothly.” He explained.

“Of course, of course, my apologies. Do you happen to have schematics? Sketches?” He asked. “I would like to look into this more before I make a decision. I believe it will take a bit of time. Research and all that, I hope you understand.” Thomas nodded, a little surprised he got this far.

“Of course.” He nodded, grabbing a folder from the case. “I have everything right here.” He handed it over--inside were schematics, other information that would hopefully be useful.

“This is genuinely impressive--I apologize for repeating. It's just so well designed.” Anthony smiled for a moment. “I will have to look into it, though I can't make any promises.”

“I understand. It is a bit risky but I wholeheartedly believe it's worth it.”

“I will do what I can to respond quickly. How long are you still staying in Buffalo?"

“I believe we are--my sister and I--staying until autumn. I’m unsure of the exact dates. My sister hasn’t told me anything, yet.” Anthony nodded.

“Well, I can at least guarantee it won't take that long to get an answer.” He chuckled softly. “I'm sorry to cut this short, but I do thank you for being here.” He stood. “It was nice to meet you. I'll have my sister…” He said that as if trying to show a bit of solidarity, or they at least had something in common. “...show you out." As if on cue, there was a rhythmic knock, a code of sorts. He got up and opened it. Cordelia was there. Thomas felt a little less uncomfortable...something about her, something about the way she carried herself.

“I swear I wasn't eavesdropping,” It was honest, but she was a bit nervous about how it came across. She pulled on her sleeve, letting out a soft snicker. “I just came by to drop off some letters for you. Including one from a certain Miss Cushing." She teased Anthony, who blushed a bit in embarrassment.

“Had it not been for witnesses…” He hissed. “I’ll trade you. Would you please show Sir Sharpe out?”

“Do I have to give you the letters?” He gave her a look and she handed them over, begrudgingly. Not that she didn’t want to spend the time with Thomas, she just wanted to see Anthony’s reaction.

“Shall I leave anything here for you to examine further?”

“No, thank you; if you want to take it, please do.” Thomas nodded, packing up the machine and carefully stowing the jar and box.

“Thank you for your time, sir.”

“And thank you for yours.” Anthony smiled, looking over his notes. The baronet looked at Cordelia with a soft smile. Her presence was almost comforting, in a way, he couldn’t quite explain it. She shut the door behind them both.

“Hello.” She greeted as she began to lead him back to the lobby. “How did it go?” She asked gently.

“I believe it went well--at least it seemed to.” He looked at her, tilting his head slightly. “Your brother is much kinder than others I’ve gone to.” He mused, finding the situation rather refreshing, in a way.

“Anthony loves listening to people talk, and their ideas. And from the look at the machine I got when you were putting it back in the case, it was rather interesting.” The comment caught Thomas off-guard. He wouldn’t have guessed a lady like her would have found his clay harvester fascinating. There was a level of intrigue they both felt, curiosity between strangers. The tall Englishman who dressed in dark clothing and spoke with a gentle elegance she was unfamiliar with; the American woman in rich lavender who took an interest in his work, unprovoked, not to just be polite--each unusual to the other, and yet it felt captivating. “So...you've got an accent. English, right?” She asked. “Sorry, I don’t know many people from Europe…”

“No, no, Miss Baker, you don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind answering...though I suppose others will have the same questions, no doubt.” He looked at her with a small smile. “I am from England.”

“Is it nice there?” She asked, looking up at him with a curious smile.

“Where I’m from, it’s rainy and dark in some of the most beautiful ways.” He smiled at her, finding the curiosity endearing. “Not like Buffalo.”

“It sounds beautiful, really.” She smiled, listening intently. Cordelia definitely loved his accent, though she knew there was more to him than what everyone else might care to ask about. High society had a tendency to gloss over personality, beyond the obvious and surface level. “I’ve always wanted to go to England. Everyone I know who’s been there speaks highly of it.” He looked over, a little intrigued. Her smile felt...reassuring, in a way. Her curiosity was almost comforting.

“I think everyone should go to London at least once in their life. It’s quite amazing--the art, architecture…” He looked over. “Perhaps I could be the one to show you, someday.” She looked over, unable to tell if he was subtly flirting, or if he was just being kind. She didn’t know if she was misinterpreting things.

“How could I possibly refuse an offer like that?” She looked over. “If you want, I could show you around Buffalo...make things even?” The idea of spending time with her was inexplicably something he wanted--no, needed. He was drawn to her, he needed to find out more about her. The fact that she would even suggest that she’d give him a tour was astonishing--nobody else he met up until then had brought it up.

“That sounds like a fair deal. I would love that, actually.” He admitted with a smile--it made her blush faintly. It was unexplainable...she had no idea how this man had an effect on her already. They reached the lobby, the door in sight. The soft evening light started filtering in through the glass.

“You know...I’m hosting a party on Friday night--this Friday…” She got irritated with herself, internally, wondering if she was embarrassing herself by talking too much. “...if you would be interested, you are more than welcome there.”

“Really?” He sounded a bit stunned. “I would very much enjoy that. Would it be alright if my sister came along with me? I’d hate to leave her out.”

“If she wants to, of course she can.” She looked at him with a soft smile.

“Well, that’s great.” He smiled back, brightly. “Until then, Miss Baker?”

“I’m already looking forward to it, Sir Sharpe.” He took his hat, putting it on and chuckling softly as he left. With him gone, she sighed. There was something about him that she couldn’t describe. Cordelia immediately set off to bother Anthony for information. She knocked on the door and opened it. Her brother had a completely smitten look as he was reading over the letter. “So...how’s Edith?” She teased, amused.

“She’s fine.” He muttered, closing the letter and putting it on top of the papers.

“Have either of you told the other, yet?”

“No. Stop asking.” He looked at her, half-glaring. “And don’t ask about the baronet. I’m not giving you anything, yet.”

“Fine, fine.” She shook her head. “Then I’ll get back to planning the party.”

“Alright. Have fun.”

#crimson peak #thomas sharpe #sir thomas sharpe #my writing #oc #oc ship #fic writing #wip #please critique #fanfic writer #need feedback

7 notes · View notes

tartagilicious · 4 years ago

Text

[CN] Lucien’s Birthday Event R&S

💌 see Lucien’s birthday date, which this rumour and secrets is connected to, here!

💌 also, a huge thanks to @elainabearie for providing me with screenshots of the event, because my gems really said no <3

[event story:] It’s a warm and sunny afternoon. I looked at the heavy package in my hands and carefully opened it. Inside the three-layer packaging, there is a book that looks as if it’s been in use for several years.

MC: Great, it seems that there was nothing wrong with the transportation.

Xu Mo’s birthday is coming soon. I thought about it, and decided that I would give him a meaningful out-of-print book this year. After visiting the major bookstores in Loveland, it was quite easy for me to find even this out-of-print book. Unfortunately, however, due to the age, the condition and storage of the books was not very proper. When the book arrived in my hands, it was already a bit damaged.

So, in addition to the book itself, I also bought glue for repairing the pages of the book and thread for binding the cover. After patching it up, I plan to give it to Xu Mo. Because I worried I couldn’t patch up the book correctly, though, I also practiced on spare paper for a long time.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Today is the day of the real endeavour, but I just hope that my hands can keep up with my brain. I need to prepare the gift perfectly for him.

I slowly opened the spine of the book attentively. Just as I was about to begin cleaning up the pages, a loud beating sounded abruptly.

MC: Who would come at this time…

Hastily, I pack up the repair utensils on the table that I had just opened. A gentle and familiar voice then entered the room; the one that I was most familiar with.

Xu Mo: When you hadn’t opened the door for a while, I was worried that I’d knocked at a bad time.

Those deep black eyes looked at me with a smile. It’s softer than the setting sun in the late afternoon.

MC: It’s nothing, I’m here.

I spoke and turned my head halfway, ready to invite Xu Mo into the house. Halfway through the conversation, though, it suddenly occurred to me that the birthday surprise for him was still lying on the table.

MC: Well… you came to me so suddenly, is there something wrong?

I changed the subject, trying to block the doorway discreetly.

Xu Mo’s eyes turned a little playfully to my face and back to the living room. Obviously, it was the look of someone who knew I was hiding something, but he still followed me up with a reply.

Xu Mo: By chance, my company got two tickets for the exhibition. I thought it may help you accumulate program material, so I just wanted to invite this producer.

Xu Mo: But it seems you aren’t free today? The time of this exhibition is very long, but you can come to me whenever you’re free.

Not giving me time to answer, Xu Mo put one of the tickets in my hand. After I took it, he walked back towards his own home. Before entering, Xu Mo turned his head and looked at me again, smiled and added something.

Xu Mo: And also, although I don’t know what you’re doing, I wish you success.

Sitting back at the desk again, I looked at the book that needed to be repaired, and the sound of Xu Mo’s last words seemed to linger in my ears. If the book is fixed and given to him, he’ll still be happy with the result, right?

Bringing a gift of human affection will definitely reap a smile from his heart, right?

Thinking of ths, I continued the restoration work more carefully.

----

CHAPTER ONE:

“Hey, kid, tomorrow is a new day, let’s continue to compete!”

“I know, see you tomorrow brother Zihang.”

The boy waved his hand to the tall man politely, then turned around and sighed slightly. It’s not that he doesn’t want to compete with this foolish policeman who’s worried about chess, but this is after the 587th challenge statement he’s heard. Before he knew it, this time of waiting for his parents to return home after school gradually became his daily routine. Even if he had yet to find the vocabulary to define his mood, it makes school time unexpectedly brisk.

“Would you like to have potato roasted ribs tonight?”

“Sure.” The boy said as he put his changed shoes into the shoe cabinet properly. Carrying a small school bag, he turned around and walked towards the bookcase in the living room. Dad finally couldn’t help but stop him.

“Were you unhappy at school today?”

The boy turned around and shook his head suspiciously. He pursed his lips. For a while, he didn’t know why Dad wanted to do this, but soon, he found the answer. Maybe it was because he had heard the sigh just now.

“I’m happy. The teacher and classmates are very nice.” He paused. “Brother Zihang still can’t make any progress in chess. Obviously I’ve secretly given in.”

A warm touch covered the top of his head. Dad squatted down and gently rubbed the head of his little genius. The corners of his mouth had already lifted considerably, and he made no secret of it.

“Then it seems that you can only show him more openly next time!”

The boy blinked, and he couldn’t help but smile when he saw his father joking so seriously.

Half an hour later, a familiar concerto sounded from the kitchen.

“It seems a bit salty, can you try it?”

“It’s not salty, but it does need to be processed. You put it here, I’ll do it.”

“Obviously it’s salty… you lied to me. But, I really followed the steps written above. Could it be the quality unit of the excipients?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” The man’s tone seems undoubtedly like a rigorous experiment report can be produced in the next second to verify it.

“You go with your son.” He said, deliberately lowering his voice. “It’s rare that we are at home. Don’t crowd the kitchen.”

The boy who hid by the doorway with his ear keenly adjusted reacted immediately. He hastily slipped back to the seat beside the dining table before Mom came out, and rearranged to read his book seriously.

For the boy, ordinary daily life like this is extremely precious. So, at the happy dinner, he hesitated for a long while. He had a problem that had been bothering him lately.

“Dad, what is the law of conservation of energy?” He raised his head to look at his father and added crossly. “I have worked with a teacher, but she said this question will be answered when i grow up… I don’t quite understand. Is the answer related to my age?”

“The law of conservation of energy. The change in the total energy of a system can only be equal to the amount of energy transferred into our out of the system. Energy is rather a measure of the movement of matter.”

“This is one of the most basic rules of this world.”

Dad said this as he put a piece of ribs into the boy’s bowl. The tone naturally seemed to be answering an ordinary question, but the boy stared at the ribs, and his pretty little face twisted together unconsciously.

“I think the teacher said that because she hopes you can find the answer yourself when you grow up. But she may not know you well. My son might find the answer soon.”

“Really?”

“Of course. When has Dad ever fooled you? So, eat first.” Dad beckoned and scratched the boy’s nose. He then picked up another piece of meat and put it in his wife’s bowl and started eating.

CHAPTER TWO:

The boy is always curious about the puzzles of the world. For example, why is the sky blue? What are the floating clouds? Why are people on the ground and why are fish in the water? He is interested in answering too many questions. The fields involved are quite different but have subtle similarities. These “secret questions” seem to be hard to get answers for all at once.

But, the boy never had a boring process in finding answers. He likes the moment very much. For example, now-- In the study, the boy was sitting on a small ladder, looking through a thick professional book. He tried to find out more about these “rules of the world” his father had spoken of.

But this question really is too difficult.

Looking at the complicated patterns and uncommon characters that keep jumping in his eyes, the boy lowered his head, somewhat discouraged. The sound of the minute hand ticking can be heard in the silent room. Moonlight sheds down the skylight, stars of light and shadow gathered around the boy’s feet.

Still, he should try to look for it again. He pouted while thinking like this, and exhaled as if to cheer himself up. He jumped off the ladder and then raised his head to look up at the giant bookshelf in front of him again. Slightly squinted eyes quickly lit up, and he pushed the little ladder under the shelf next to him.

Securing it carefully, he shook it cautiously to determine its stability. Then, he nodded contentedly, leaning on both sides of it to climb up blatantly level by level.

The study had always been his favourite place at home. Whether it was sitting on the ground and looking up at the densely packed bookshelves that were too tall for him, or like it was now, standing high and looking over the same silent room.

Here is his secret place where no one will bother him, and his treasure-trove for finding answers. It’s like his channel for getting to know the world. There seems to be an infinite amount of knowledge waiting for him here; waiting for him to walk in; waiting for his recognition.

“Found it!”

With excitement, the boy drew out a book of some ancient purpose from the depth of the shelf. Gently brushing the dust from the cover, he then blew carefully. It wafted up into his nose and he coughed a few times before he raised his little hand up to wave the dust in front of him away.

He climbed down the ladder holding the “treasure” he had finally found. He placed it carefully on the ground and bought a thick English-English dictionary from where he was just sitting. The boy took a deep breath, and when he was about to begin the big job, there was a slight creaking noise coming from the door before a gentle knock.

“Mom, can I read a bit longer? I finally found this book.” The boy glanced at the clock on the wall and looked at his mother aggrievedly. “One more hour will be fine.”

Mom didn’t speak,and beckoned to turn on the light in the study. Then, she took a few steps closer and bent down to spread a blanket out in his arms. The familiar temperature gently wraps him, and mom smiles and curls her long finger to hook with the boy’s little one.

“That’s a deal.”

“Ok!”

CHAPTER THREE:

In the middle of the night, the boy stared at the faintly fluorescent “Milky Way” on his ceiling, and did not sleep. He felt that his brain was traveling to outer space. After tossing for a long time, he fetched the secretly hidden book from under the pillow, and took a small flashlight from the deeper part before settling back under the quilt.

The beam of light instantly lit up the small space in the dark, and circled a quiet little world that belonged to no one but the little boy.

“Can Mom come in?”

The question sounded as if spanning time and space.

The boy embarrassedly emerged from the quilt, and sullenly responded. He put the closed book and flashlight on the bedside table obediently.

Should he take the initiative and admit his mistakes? After all, his parents have never allowed him to bring books into the bedroom, let alone peek at them and get caught doing so.

“Mom, I…”

“If you can’t fall asleep, Mom will continue to tell you the bedtime story that I didn’t finish last time.”

The boy finally summoned the courage and pursed his lips. He raised his head to meet his mother’s eyes somewhat inconceivably, doubt flashing in his black eyes.

“I’m almost 6 years old.”

“Aren’t you not there yet? Listen and see, maybe the story of your mother can let your disobedient brain cells find their way home.” Mom said, knocking his little head mysteriously.

“Okay..”

Although psychologically repelling his parents to regard him himself as a child, he honestly approached his mother’s open arms. The faint woody scent wrapped him, and he took a heavy breath of his favourite smell.

“Then he said again: I thought I had a unique flower, but all I have is an ordinary flower. This flower, plus three volcanoes as high as my knees, and one of them has been extinguished forever. All of this won’t make me a great prince. So he laid in the grass and wept.” Mom’s voice lingered in his ears, sweet and soft, and seemed to be slightly different from her voice when she was preparing for a report, but still felt very good at any of those moments.

The boy did not speak, he was actually a little sleepy, and listening to the story, he had new questions that could not be answered. But he ended up not asking, because it seemed to have been a long time since he last heard his mother tell him a bedtime story like this.

He doesn’t care about the follow-up of the story, he just wants to make this moment last longer. Thinking about this, he moved closer into the embrace that held him.

Perhaps sensing the boy’s rare silence, his mother took the initiative to stop, smoothed the messy hair on top of his head, and suddenly asked, “Is there anything you want for your birthday the day after tomorrow?”

“Any gift is fine?” He blinked, looking at his mother expectantly as she nodded, and could barely wait to say, “Then I want an answer to the rules of this world.”

He regretted it as soon as he spoke. After all, he had promised his father only hours ago that he would find the answer to the question himself. So, he hurriedly changed the subject.

“Mom, in this story you’re telling me, will love help?”

“To be precise, love can be an answer.”

“Then ‘love’ will abide by the rules of this world?”

Mom smiled helplessly and stroked his head.

“You have to look for the answer to this problem yourself, okay? Your little head is being worked too hard, let it relax,” She paused, “Mom sometimes selfishly hopes that you can… be more naive.”

“It’s not like asking you to do age-appropriate things, I just hope that you don’t lock yourself up in a scientific manner and have the opportunity to see the world in different ways. You should know that the answers to many questions in this world are not through equations.”

As she raised her hand, she booped the boy’s mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, and then took his hand and put it over his left chest.

“Goodnight, my little prince.”

CHAPTER FOUR:

That night, the boy slept very deeply. The world in his dream was like a colourless planet, quietly waiting for him to fill it in. He walked in the endless universe until a dazzling spot of light appeared before his eyes.

The morning sunlight jumped over his eyelids, and the melodious trumpet slowly penetrated his ears. The boy rubbed his sleepy eyes and sat up in the bed. He remembered this melody, which seemed to be a fragment from the second movement of the Symphony from the New World.

He folded his quilt, opened the curtains, and opened a small slit in the window. There was already a noticeable coldness in the November air.

Through the balcony, flying gold osmanthus dotted the entire hillside. The autumn sun seems to have a special temperature and magic power, giving everything a warm golden edge.

Dad’s figure appeared on some distant mountain top observation deck, and the silver trumpet gleamed in the dawn. This is one of his many hobbies. Especially when something is worth celebrating, he will play a few songs. Even the flowers and plants in the flower beds that have just been watered will seem to be listening to this melody.

The boy’s mood couldn’t help but jump up. After a brief wash, he ran straight to the top of the mountain. The approaching trumpet sound was like the background of his running, becoming a special mini recital in his head.

After the end of the song, the boy just arrived near the viewing platform, and his father turned around to bow.

“You got up so early. I guess yesterday’s question now has an answer?”

The boy shook his head honestly. Dad smiled and beckoned him over without any surprise, then put the trumpet into his hand and raised his chin. “Want to try?”

The city he overlooked seems to have just woken up, and the scent of fresh grass fills the air. The boy looked at the trumpet in his hand and tilted his head in thought. He recalled the appearance of his father playing the trumpet, trying to put the trumpet to his lips, and took a hard breath.

The surroundings were quiet as if nothing had happened. The boy looked at the trumpet in shock and tried it again, but it was still as silent as ever. Seeing his son’s red face, his father laughed.

“It seems even young geniuses have things they aren’t good at. Come, prove your learning ability!”

Dad patiently guided the boy, from how to blow into the trumpet to the frequencies of breathing. He didn’t deliberately avoid obscure professional vocabulary, but when the noticed the boy had some doubts, he would explain two more sentences for that part.

Time seemed to slow down then, quietly hovering between father and son. Finally, the boy successfully sounded the trumpet. The sound was bright and crisp, as if it could directly penetrate the night before dawn.

“The trumpet is a musical instrument that can emit a loud sound or use the strength of the airflow to make a gentle sound.” Dad took the silver trumpet from the boy’s hand back. “Many people have some inherent ideas about things. People who don’t understand certain things will make one-sided judgements casually.”

“There are many casual people in the world. They think that the many rules are what people say, so they gradually become a part of the rules.

Dad put his mouth to the trumpet again. “They never know that even an ordinary trumpet can contain the secrets of the entire universe. Find the answer in your own way, even if you question it, it doesn’t matter.”

The high-pitched trumpet accompanied the distant sun slowly rising, illuminating the quiet land.

CHAPTER FIVE:

The sunrise on Friday seemed to arrive with blessings. After school, the boy sped up his normal pace going home, not looking forward to his birthday, but knowing that his parents rarely took time off to prepare dinner at home.

After the family of three happily feasted, Mom sang a birthday song and brought out a cake. He had never liked sweets, so according to the usual practice, only the step of making a wish was left. The boy sat upright, and when he was about to close his eyes, his father opened his mouth suddenly.

“How about dad teaches you a special way to make a wish this year?”

He looked up at his dad’s face softened by the candlelight, and nodded in cooperation. Maybe this is the habit of scientists, creating new ways to do things all the time. He thought so.

“Let’s make wishes with our eyes open in the future. Tell your wishes to your heart, but use your eyes to record everything that’s happening on this day. Because today is a particularly beautiful day, those who accompany you on this day are also beautiful.”

“Yes, now it’s me and your mother, but there will be others who love you in the future. You must keep that in mind.”

Dad fixed his glasses, his tone very serious. As if affected by such emotions, the boy also nodded vigorously. He looked at the candlelight swaying in front of him and silently drew a small wish from his heart.

I hope I can grow up soon, learn more knowledge, and become as knowledgeable as my parents. I hope that the research that mom and dad are doing goes well. It would be better if their work made them a little less busy. I hope that today next year, we can be together as a family.

The candlelight was against the boy’s shining eyes, and there was a sudden sticky touch to his cheeks. The moment the boy raised his head in astonishment, another source of light flashed, and his mother poked out her head from a camera triumphantly.

“A successful capture!”

His father beside him gave a thumbs-up of affirmation, the cream of the cake still on his fingertips.

“.....”

Occasionally when these similar situations happen, the boy will wonder about the authenticity of his parents’ occupations.

The moon quietly climbed up in the night sky, and the boy observed that his father would look out of the window from time to time after night fell. Finally, he walked towards him with a smile, and with a mysterious expression, he pulled him out into the yard.

The wind blew the small blue and white flags with the leaves, bringing out a hint of autumn. Dad took off his white coat and put it on the little boy casually. A large astronomical telescope was placed in a part of the yard, and the boy suddenly had a guess in his heart.

“Even if the birthday gift a kid wants isn’t ‘cute’ at all, a good dad still has to work hard to satisfy his wish. So -- this is the birthday gift that mom and I will give you. Happy Birthday!”

The boy turned his head to look at his mother who was leaning against the door. She shoved her shawl together and blinked at him. He couldn’t help but sigh again, but his heart was warm.

Dad adjusted the telescope to a suitable height, and even praised the boy for growing taller again. Through the binoculars, he clearly saw the universe.

“There are so many huge and unknown secrets in the universe we live in. Your mother and I are honoured to be the ones who explore and study it.”

“Then, can I be the same as you?”

“Of course. So, what dad is trying to tell you is that the world is big, but also very, very small. Don’t stop and stay where you are because of something unknown, and move forward with questions. Go, and one day, you will find the answer.”

The boy looked away from the telescope, looked at his parents who were always watching over him, and then looked up at the vast expanse of the night sky.

The galaxy just within reach has now become a distant point.

He was lost in thought. After a moment, he raised his head, and there seemed to be a flash of light in his eyes.

“I think I know, what is the answer to the rules of this world? Mom and dad, you can listen to me, right?”

CHAPTER SIX:

In the study, the fireplace flickered and made crackling noises.

In Einstein’s special theory of relativity, as a component of the four dimensional momentum, energy is conserved in any closed system, and when observed in any interior system, time changes. The length of the vector is the static mass of a single mass point, and will also be conserved.

The boy knelt on the ground holding a piece of chalk, surrounded by books, dictionaries, calculation papers and tools that he had been reading these days. His parents surrounded him, and by his side, they patiently watched the formula and reasonings he wrote down stroke by stroke.

“But the book says, for physical theories in flat space-time, since quantum mechanics allows for short-term non-conservation, energy conservation is not observed in quantum mechanics.” The boy frowned, but the chalk in his hand did not stop. It seemed that the entire universe was paved in front of him, and he tried his best to use those jerky and unfamiliar words to know and break down the door separating him from the answer he needed.

In fact, there are still many things he doesn’t understand. In such a short period of time, he really couldn’t cross those unknown letters and equations to get those answers. However, he did not intend to admit defeat. He has his own views on this world.

“To sum it up, the rule of the world is that it may only have a rule within a certain period of time, but it may appear as more cognition, and new rules will appear.

The rules of this world will always be broken.

After he finished speaking, he pushed the slightly large glasses up the bridge of his nose like his father. Dad frowned, thinking about the rationality of this reason. After a moment, he nodded thoughtfully:

“It’s a really interesting theory.”

The boy did not show a hint of a smile, and dad’s conversation turned.

“It’s just your idea, I'm afraid it’s challenging Einstein.”

The small head that was originally straight couldn’t help but deflate, like a ball that had leaked a bit of air.

“But then again…” The boy’s eyes lit up.

“It is worthy of recognition and encouragement. Keep going.” Dad patted him on the shoulder approvingly. “Unexpectedly, my son now has the potential to discover new things and world truths. It seems that becoming a great scientist is just around the corner! But for now, let’s be a happy birthday kid.” He said this and rubbed the top of the boy’s head vigorously.

“Six years old is no longer a child.” The boy whispered. “

“Then this big kid can’t tell his dad what the wish he made was?” “No, the birthday wish won’t come true.”

“Haha, you seem like quite an ordinary kid in this moment.”

“....”

“My wish is to know the same knowledge as my parents, so that I can learn about the world with you.”

The boy’s sudden opening stunned his parents for a moment.

Mom didn’t speak, but took the boy in her arms with satisfaction. Dad raised his chin pretending, looked at the boy carefully, and put on an expression saying ‘this is a bit difficult’.

“This wish is quite big. Hey, why did you say it? It’ll be even harder to realise now.”

It seems that he felt his wife’s speechless gaze, and the man finally took off his permorative mask and laughed.

“But I’m not wrong. It’s really not easy to realise that wish. Because I will move forward too. By this time next year, not only will you have grown one year, but I will have as well. I understand that you’ll have more knowledge than now, but your father is already a more educated old man.”

“But I can catch up faster than you can learn.”

“Then what we’re facing now is the dilemma of catching up.”

The mother who has not spoken picked up a scattered piece of chalk and wrote on the ground, saying, “Assuming that the amount of knowledge is composed of a fixed increase in the learning rate of the previous year, and an additional increase in the learning rate this year, dad’s knowledge amount is 290 times the amount of yours.”

"His learning rate also increases at a constant rate of 6 units per year. But dad will start declining in 10 years, and his learning speed will decrease by 2 units year to year on the basis of constant growth. Your initial learning speed is 1/30 of dad, but it will increase at a constant rate. So, there’s one question, how long do you need to catch up with dad in the future?”

The boy opened his mouth, but had no answer.

Dad looked at the formula on the ground and frowned slightly. After a brief silence, he seemed to have calculated the answer, and took a breath before rubbing his hands. “It turned out to be faster than I thought. It seems that I can’t be too slack! But before time can give an answer, let's make an appointment at this time of your birthday next year, and we’ll come back!”

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mr love queen’s choice #mlqc lucien #mr love queen’s choice lucien #lucien #translation

67 notes · View notes

hldailyupdate · 4 years ago

Text

Playtime With Harry Styles

“There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something”

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

Styles cuts a cool figure in this black-white-and-red-all-over checked coat by JW Anderson.

“It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence,” says Olivia Wilde

There are references aplenty in this look by Harris Reed, which features a Victoriana crinoline, 1980s shoulders, and pants of zoot-suit proportions.

#harry styles #harry update #article #vogue #november 2020

63 notes · View notes

hitozy · 4 years ago

Text

and i oop ≪ masterlist ≫ her love language

Hinata felt horrible. YN did not let him go last night and he ended up sleeping with her, in her bed. He woke up with an early rising friend and took a shower to calm down. Watching YN sleep was kind of... nice. He couldn’t stop himself from taking a picture, grinning and then ran away to get something to eat.

I am a pervert and the worst friend ever.

YN woke up with a killer headache and a killer nausea. She remembered coming home with the boys and throwing up in the bathroom… she hopes she didn’t wreck it that bad. She didn’t want to clean it but she would never make the maids do it. After cleaning up the bathroom and herself a bit, she walked towards the kitchen, to find him eating what looked like an omelet.

‘You should have woken me up to join you~’ He jumps a bit on his seat and blushes.

‘You needed the rest a bit more than me, princess…” He trailed off when she picked up her discarded bag and pulled out her gloss.

He did not need to see her apply the strawberry shimmery gloss she wore yesterday, that he tasted on your lips just a few hours ago… fuck, he wants to kiss you again. But he doesn’t know if you remember last night or not, and he doesn’t want to pressure you either. That's a lie, he thought, I want to know if she does remember what happened, does she regret it? Does she like me too? Even though I am not what she deserves… the words her father said yesterday, rolling through his head over and over. He wasn’t wrong and I kind of hate it.

YN knows what happened and does not know what to do. As she grabs some toast and jam, she considers her breakfast mate. Does she say something? Does she ignore it and live on with her love for him hidden in the shadows? They are sitting face to face, very close to each other and yet he seems miles away. Finally, she bites the bullet, “Shoyo, are you awkward because of the kiss?”

She saw him freeze and felt anxiety spark up all over herself. She was drunk, and emotional and he looked so good, but she never asked him for permission and that sits very wrong in her stomach. Her father had always taught her that when it concerned a person's feelings or body to always ask for permission. Oh god, what have I done.

‘Er, yes and no.” He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, when he looks up to see you pale as a ghost, he feels anxiety take over his heart. “No-not in a bad way! I-” he huffs trying to get the words out, “I liked it and I think that's the problem.”

“Huh?”

“I liked the kiss and I like you very, very much, princess.”

“Then why-” “I’m not good enough for you.”

It’s dead silent all of a sudden. You want to punch him in the face and then kiss it all better. ‘Not good enough for you’? My ass! Hinata Shoyo was one of the nicest, purest, most passionate person in the world! She wanted to spend loads of money on him before he admitted his feelings, she still wants to! He deserves so much more and here he is, saying he isn’t enough.

“Why would you say that? Have you not realized how much I fucking love and adore you, you goddamned orange pumpkin man!? I LOVE YOU!” She gets up and moves towards him, gesturing everywhere, “I want to give you everything because you should have it! You give me so much emotionally and I- I,” as she starts to kneel, Hinata gets up and makes her sit where he once was.

“I didn’t know that you love me… but now I do… but YN, what about how I feel?” He kneels down before her, “Everyone thinks I don’t realize that you are practically my sugar mommy, but I do. I know it and I accept it, most of the time, because I feel like that's your way of expressing affection. Like I do the same but with volleyball n’ stuff?” He chuckles and looks straight into your eyes, “I care so much about you, but I’m not even half the man that you deserve, princess. I know that if we become an item, I'm just going to hurt you.”

You stare into his eyes, because you don’t believe his words. Thing is, his eyes are saying the same thing his mouth said. There is love and pain and regret? Hold up, “Are you saying this because you’re going to Brazil next year?”

“...yes.”

“Oh my god, okay, Shoyo. I understand, well I actually don’t understand your current feelings, but I accept the fact that we,” gesturing between the two of you, “have feelings for each other or else we wouldn’t have kissed.”

He sighs, “Ynnie…”

“I am in love with you, Hinata Shoyo.” You hold his gaze, “I think I might have fallen in love with you last year, during nationals, because since then I can’t get you out of my mind. Pumpkin, I don’t need you to be a ‘big guy’ or ‘the manliest man ever’ “ he snorts, “ because you are my reliable guy, my dose of daily dopamine and serotonin, my sunshine. I can live without you, Shoyo, I am well aware of it. I just don’t want to, I want to be with you. However you’ll take me. wherever, whenever.”

“I’m not in love with you, though” you felt your heart drop, break and explode to nothing, “I do like you. I want to be with you, but I can’t. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, ok? I-...I- ”

“I’m a big girl, Shoyo. I can take care of myself and my feelings.”

“Doesn’t make me feel less awful hurting you.”

Hinata takes her hands, after a minute of silence you say, “How about we meet in the middle then?”

He looks up at you confused, “Huh?”

“Yeah. You and I, we won’t be an item. We won’t be together, but we WILL. We let this flow and take it as it goes.”

“Like... friends with benefits?” He blushes, making you laugh.

“No, like I’m your sugar mommy, you're my arm candy and I splurge my money on you to cover up for whatever we want to do but won’t allow ourselves to do it until we are ready.”

He stares, “So like what you’re doing now? The hell is that better!? What am I supposed to do? What do I give?! I’m not rich, yn. I can’t splurge on anything except myself...”

“You grow without any worries, Shoyo. You serve as my eye candy and let me love you.”

He groans, “No, YN. Just no, if you want to do that fine, but I also need to contribute or else I AM going to feel like the worst man ever.” I’d go to your father personally to execute me if that ever happens…

She tuts, “Fine, I want a full-blown out love confession once you realize that you love me.”

Silence.

He snorts out a laugh, placing his head on your lap, “You’re crazy, miss.princess.”

Yeah, crazy for you.

“Do we have a deal?”

“...Deal.”

“Good, now, since we already ate breakfast and you aren’t going back to Miyagi until next week, and the boys are dead... again, how about you help me out with something?”

He stands and pulls you up, “Okay, what do you need?”

“I got a lot of clothes, merch and stuff from our sponsors that I need to try on and decide which one we want to collab with this quarter,” you flutter your eyelashes at him, “I need you to tell me if it looks good or not. Also, take pictures of it.”

“Sure.”

Hinata Shoyo has decided that when it's about LN YN, he will never be prepared.

He has been sitting for the last three hours watching her wear short skirts and shorts, crop tops, yoga pants, sports bras… he thinks this might be her way of torturing him for not wanting to be her boyfriend, yet.

It is.

and i oop ≪ masterlist ≫ her love language

facts:

⇾ YN saved the kissing picture as her screensaver on everything. Daddy LN is not impressed. Just jealous. Hinata printed it out and has it inside his wallet uwu ⇾ YN and Kenma are going to the same University that Kuroo attends. While he is excited, his kouhai are not. He hates these little shits. no he doesn’t ⇾ Kodzuken channel skyrocketed one day all thanks to YN promoting his youtube channel.. he won’t admit it but he is grateful. P.S Kenma did get a Nike ad ♥ ⇾ Kenma doesn’t know it yet, but YN is going to give Kenma her first paycheck to help him develop Bouncing Ball Co. ⇾ Fukunaga doesn’t know it yet, but YN wrote an extensive letter to his University about how great he is and got him a scholarship. ⇾ Yamamoto doesn’t know it yet, but YN submitted his volleyball games and practice games to Kaganawa VBC league. ⇾ They’ll find out soon though.

A/N: ... To everyone that thought I was gonna do a full blown angst chapter, jokes on you, I can’t write angst for shit. For future reference, just call me out on it, ok? also next chp is a big timeskip! so... be prepared for that and full disclosure, on part ii we start with the smutty parts ♥ again, i will make cuts on the chapters in case you don’t want to read it!

taglist ➜ open! send an ask to be added ღ

@mint-mai . @prettyinblack231 . @starryleafy . @ilauvcoldpizza . @its-the-aerieljeane . @daddy-kawa . @aizumii @pansexualproblemchild

#hinata shouyo x reader #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shouyo #hinata shouyou #hinata shouyou x reader #hinata smau #hinata fic #haikyu!! smau #haikyu!! fic #haikyu!!#sweet tangerine♥#sweet tangerine

42 notes · View notes

hlupdate · 4 years ago

Link

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy,setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboardcharts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

“There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicksalbum cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness,is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence,” says Olivia Wilde

#harry styles #vogue #131120

53 notes · View notes