#cheek kiss! that they both remembered!! We completed the square!!!!!

[gloomwitchwrites]

You get drunk and don't remember giving them a hickey. So you get mad at them.

Oh, anon! I love love love this prompt. Even though the prompt itself is fairly straightforward, there is some wiggle room about how this could play out. I stuck to the prompt but did my best to keep them on the shorter side.

Some of these get spicy but don't fall into graphic detail.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, arguing, sexual tension, kissing, alcohol

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“These reports are shit, Price. What am I supposed to do with them?”

You’re trying your best not to sound irritated, but your head is pounding. You agreed to go out for drinks but told yourself you wouldn’t have more than one or two. That went completely out the door when multiple people began paying for rounds. After the fourth, the night started to come blurry. Not all the pieces are there.

Of what you can recall from last night, you remember that you sat in a man’s lap. Well—sat isn’t the correct word. More like straddled. You remember strong arms, an accent, and an excitement in what you were doing. But the face is still foggy.

“What you always do,” replies Price. There’s a tease in his tone you don’t particularly like. It’s too friendly, and it stirs something fierce inside your belly.

Price shifts in his chair behind his desk, the collar of his jacket flops open slightly. You catch a hint of something dark on the side of Price’s neck. You frown, your rebuttal gone.

“What is that?” You nod toward his throat.

Price leans back. “What?” he asks. “This?” He reaches up, pulling back on the collar.

It’s a…oh fuck.

“You were happy to give it to me.” Price shrugs.

Fuck.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, tossing the manila file folder on Price’s desk.

The man you straddled last night was Price? The man who is always fucking up reports and ignoring all your suggestions for corrections? That one?

“You looked good doing it, too,” he continues, that teasing smile falling into a comfortability of a lover.

No. No no no.

You place your hands on your hips. “And you let me do that?”

Price shrugs. “We’re consenting adults.”

“I was drunk.”

Price crosses his arms over his chest. “We were both drunk. And you’re the one who pounced on me.”

Embarrassment rises hot and wild in your cheeks. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You did,” he confirms, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he smirks. “Ambushed me actually.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” Your voice cracks, going a bit high.

“I tried.”

That’s almost worse. You jumped him and then sucked on his neck until it left a mark. What an absolute fucking mess.

You roll your eyes. “You tried? A big strong man like you couldn’t stop me?”

This time Price is the one rolling his eyes. He makes an irritated groan. Price pushes up from his chair, one hand waving out in front of him as he speaks. “You said you’d been thinking about me.”

It’s not entirely untrue. While you attend the clerical side of things, you do make excuses to come see Price. He’s older. Handsome. Assertive. His reports aren’t always shit but it’s the only reason you have to bother him.

“I didn’t mean it,” you reply but even you don’t believe it.

Price comes around the desk and steps into your space. “Really?”

You square your shoulders, staring into Price’s face. “Really.”

He shakes his head, clearly not believing you at all. “As I recall, you were in my lap. Practically begging.”

“And you allowed that? In front of everyone?” Even Price couldn’t be that careless.

This time, Price smiles like he knows something you don’t. “You don’t remember.”

“What?” you ask, flustered.

Price starts laughing, but it’s not mocking, more like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“John,” you snap.

Price sinks down into his chair, legs spread wide. “I think I liked it better when you said my name while seated in my lap.”

Your fingers dig into the top of Price’s desk. Pieces begin to return. Fragments of you squirming in his lap. Lips pressed against his.

“How did you say it?” he ponders, almost aloud rather than to you. Then, he smiles, not even answering his own question.

Price rests his palm on his thigh and your gaze drops to its subtle movement before returning to his face.

“Think I’d like a matching one,” he says. He runs his hand down his thigh and then back up. “Or I could give you one just like it.”

“John,” you murmur, not knowing what it is you want to say.

“Doesn’t have to be on your neck,” and his voice is nearly a growl. Price lightly squeezes his thigh and you know exactly where he’s referring to. “Be easier if you sit on the desk.”

You snatch up the folder on Price’s desk, clutching it like a shield against your chest. Price doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t appear fazed at all. Stomping over you shove it against his chest, intending to walk right out the door.

But Price is quick.

With one hand he’s clutching the file and with the other he grabs your wrist before you manage to move away.

“Remove your hand,” you say but there is no venom in it.

Price’s gaze lingers on your lips before shifting up to meet your eyes. “Come back when you know what you want.”

Price releases you, and you nearly stumble forward into his lap. Catching yourself on the edge of his desk, you spin on your heel, exiting Price’s office as the final fragments of memory fall into place.

You don’t want to admit it.

Not out loud. Not yet.

But you will be back.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s unbelievable. Unfathomable.

You’re not angry with Kyle. You’re upset with yourself. You’re upset that you were so careless about how many drinks you had, and how you couldn’t control yourself in the moment. Kyle is not a liar, and he doesn’t take advantage, so whatever you did, is on you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, swallowing down some of the rising irritation. “It’s my fault.”

Kyle shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face. “Not like I pushed you away.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you insist, flinging your arms out in exasperation, nearly knocking over bottles of cleaner.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, catching one of them before it hits the floor.

This little storage room isn’t big enough for this. You need space. You need to run far away from here and pretend like last night didn’t happen. Not that you can remember all of it. You don’t recall giving Kyle that mark on his neck.

“It does matter. We both had too much but I still had more of my head than you did.” Kyle places the bottle of cleaner back on the shelf. “I should’ve done better.”

“We’re coworkers, Kyle. And I had no right. We aren’t together.”

Kyle smirks and you want to smack it right off his face. “We could be,” he murmurs, taking a step forward.

“Absolutely not,” you retort but you don’t retreat.

Kyle’s smirk faulters a bit but he doesn’t shrink away. If anything, he looks more determined, like the rejection is a farce.

“You remember anything you said to me last night?”

You lick your lips and cross your arms defensively over your chest. “Even if I did, does it change anything?”

Kyle sighs and runs his hand over the top of his head. “It does for me.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you consider your options. Kyle is a sweet man, at least to you. Everyone always comments on it to you when he isn’t around, and you’ve always dismissed their observations.

Maybe he does care, and you doing this tipped him over the edge into a place neither of you might be able to come back from.

“I need some fucking air,” you mutter, wanting to escape this situation, even for a bit.

Kyle shoves forward, blocking the door. Your lips move, forming the shapes of words, but Kyle shakes his head, all seriousness.

“We need to talk about this.”

“We don’t need to talk about anything,” you snap.

Kyle’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline and his head tips slightly to the side, revealing more of the mark. “Everyone knows what happened.”

“What?” you breathe.

“We weren’t alone when you straddled me.” You’re too stunned to speak. All the words you want to say are gone. Lost to the void that is your mind.

Kyle sighs and leans against the door. “Soap got a great view.”

“Stop talking. Just—stop.” Your throw up your hands and Kyle does as you ask. “You are going to move out of my way. I am going to leave. And we won’t talk about this again.”

Kyle only stares, the silence stretching.

When you think he won’t give in, Kyle shifts to his left, leaving the door completely clear. Without taking a second to reconsider, you push open the the door, nearly running over Soap in the process.

He stumbles backward, cheeks bright red. Ghost is next to him, arms crossed, staring at the wall like he isn’t there at all.

Soap’s brief fluster turns into a wide, knowing grin. “Gaz give you a matching one?” he teases.

Ghost makes a noise that sounds like a snort.

“Both of you can fuck off.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Ghost.”

“What?” he grunts, side-eyeing you before returning his attention back to the tablet in his hand. He absently rubs at his neck for the third time in the last few minutes.

You frown. “Are you injured?”

“Why would you think that?” he asks, tapping at something on the screen.

“You keep rubbing your neck.”

Ghost pauses, his finger hovering just above the screen as he turns slightly in your direction.

You’re not trying to be pushy or nosy. Ghosts hates that. But there’s something wrong, and you care enough to ask him about it.

“You know what’s on my neck,” he replies cooly.

“No. I don’t.” A swirling fracture of unease blooms in your belly. It curls outward to claw up your throat. “What are you talking about?”

Ghost’s hand holding the tablet drops to his side. With one gloved hand, he reaches up, tugging the neckline of his jacket down enough to reveal a portion of his throat. The mask he always wears is in the way, but you reach out with a tentative hand, brushing the fabric upward to reveal a mouth-shaped bruise.

You drop your hand and take a step back. “Why would I know anything about that?”

“You gave it to me,” he says, matter of fact.

Sure, you had a few drinks last night, but did you really have that many? Enough that you can’t recall giving Ghost a goddamn hickey.

“You’re mistaken.”

“Never wrong, love.” Ghost locks the tablet and places it on the table next to him. “Especially about a woman sitting in my lap.”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, hips adjusting slightly as he pivots to glare down at you. “Try again.”

A deep rush of embarrassment floods your system, curling up your neck to heat your cheeks. “I wouldn’t.”

“You did,” insists Ghost. You glance down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. Perhaps you had one too many. Sometimes you can hold your alcohol but clearly not. At least not last night.

You clear your throat. “I’m sorry.” An apology is best. You have no idea how Ghost feels about you, but you are irritated that he didn’t try to stop the whole thing in the first place.

Ghost is silent a long moment. “I’m not.” Your head snaps up, but Ghost isn’t done. “I liked it. And you enjoyed giving it to me.”

You need the pieces to fall back into place. You need to remember. Because right now, you’re just confused, and Ghost’s behavior is entirely different from his usual demeanor.

“You don’t know that.”

Ghost shrugs. “I do.”

His certainty is confusing. Ghost is not a liar. He is always truthful, always to the point, even if his bluntness comes across as rude. And that’s what so frustrating about it all because you know that Ghost is right. You probably did like it, probably begged and writhed in his lap. Ghost wouldn’t lie about something like that, but he would tease you. Might even hold it over your head.

“This conversation is over.” You step around him to grab the tablet, but Ghost is quick like a viper, his large hand encasing your wrist.

“Do you remember?”

No. I don’t.

“It doesn’t matter.” You try to tug your wrist out of his grasp, but Ghost holds firm.

“When you’re ready. Find me.” He leans forward, masked face nearly touching the side of your cheek. “We’ll recreate it.”

Then his hand is gone, and Ghost is pulling away, presenting the tablet to you like he didn’t say anything at all.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“What the fuck is that?”

Soap’s brilliant smile turns in your direction. He sits on the seat of a bench press, elbows resting on knees, sweat dripping from his brow. Soap is shirtless and a white towel is draped over the back of his neck.

Reaching up with the edge of the towel, Soap wipes away some of the sweat on his face. “What are you on about?” He adjusts his stance, his large palm pressing into his knee as he leans on an elbow.

The small gym isn’t crowded but there are people here. Some of them turn and glance in your direction but otherwise keep to their business. Ghost and Gaz are over by the boxing ring observing a few new recruits who slug it out for bragging rights.

Is Soap so aloof? Does he not see the massive mark on the side of his neck? And who gave it to him? A group of you went out for drinks but you don’t recall who might have given it to him or when.

You step closer, lowering your voice. “Your neck, Johnny.”

That gorgeous smile of his widens and he chuckles. “Did you forget?”

Did you forget? Forget what? Are you part of this?

You swallow, the salvia nearly sticking in your throat as you try to calm your thudding heart. “What do you mean?”

Soap leans back a bit, observing you. “You gave this to me.” His voice is too loud, and you glance over your shoulder to make sure no one’s heard. Everyone appears to be preoccupied with the recruits in the ring.

“I didn’t,” you insist, turning back to him. “I’d remember.”

Soap guffaws and removes the towel from around his neck. “Took a seat right here.” He indicates the spot by tapping his left thigh.

“Did we…” you begin, and then trail off.

“Did we what?” he prompts, clearly enjoying this.

You bend forward, lowering your voice until it’s a hiss. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Soap smirks, and then rises to his full height. “Promise I was a perfect gentleman.” He matches your movement, leaning in so that your faces are close. “But you? You were no lady.”

You inhale sharply, and Soap pushes right past you, heading for the showers.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving

@childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666

@unhinged-reader-36 @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath

@enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu

@thewulf @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos

@enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project

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@lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

@tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior @dakotakazansky

@hantheconqueror

[poraphia]

heyheyhey

could I request wilbur x actor reader who has to travel alot for work and mainly acts in horror movies and that's like kinda what their known for?

thank you!!

"The Biggest Smile For My Biggest Fan"

wilbur x actress!reader 1741 words • 8.14.23 containing ~ mainly general neutral, minor use of "actress", vividly scawy lookin sfx makeup, long distance :o More wilbur content hereee :)

"He said 'I love you,' even if I'm in scary makeup. Even if I'm countries away from his embrace. He said 'I love you.'"

♡♡♡

“Did you remember to set your alarms back on? Since I won’t be able to wake you up in the morning for studio.”

Wilbur nodded. His face was still buried in my neck as my arms wrapped around him.

“Okay, I also premade some meals in the fridge for you to warm up so you don’t have to spend too much money on takeout.”

“Mhmm.” He hummed, nose buried into the scent of my collar.

“Oh, and don’t stay up past 2 AM—”

Wilbur’s soft chuckle vibrated against my skin before he pulled away, both hands on my shoulders. “It’s okay, (y/n).” He smiled. “I’m going to be okay.”

It was typical for Wilbur and I not to see each other often in person. There were times when I would have to travel abroad for filming and acting. Then there was Will, who would be on the other side of the country performing big gigs for thousands of people live. Ever since we moved in together though, things felt a bit more domesticated. For the rare times we were able to be in the same house together, we would never leave each other's schedule. Whether it would be me being Wilbur’s alarm clock, or Wilbur being my walking grocery shopping list. The moment we gave each other the house keys it was a sacred promise that we would be there for each other no matter what.

“I just— want to make sure, my love.” I mumbled. A soft smile pulled on his lips before he leaned down to give me a passionate kiss. I held onto his jacket collar tightly, using my tippy toes to reach the tall bastard. Strands of his hair tickled my face, but it was an itch I would miss for weeks. We finally pulled away, staring into each other’s eyes.

“Text me when you land, okay?” He requested softly. His eyes gleamed with the blaring airport ceiling lights. I reached up again to kiss every square inch of his face. His hands wrapped around my wrists as I held the sides of his head. Giggles erupted from him. Even with a peck to the nose, dimples, and the small freckle near his eye, I had to force myself to be satisfied so I wouldn’t miss my flight. Once I pulled away, I caressed my thumb against his cheek. His eyes still focused on me.

“I’ll text you, I promise.”

And with that, we waved each other goodbye before enduring the long process of getting my bags checked to a couple of hours’ flight on the plane to Columbia, where our movie was going to be filmed. I didn’t know much about the movie other than I’ll be starring as a character with a mask stalking the main group of protagonists. Either way, I was excited to be a part of a big film in production yet again, and even more excited to see what ideas and talent will be brought to the table.

Once I landed I took a taxi to the hotel I was stationed to be at, and tomorrow will start the production of costume fitting and script reviewing. Wilbur knew most of the script by heart by this point. Some days when he would be at home most of the time, he could hear me practicing the same lines over and over again, to the point that sometimes he would burst into the room, completing the scene.

I would be standing in the living room with my script on my phone. “You’re not supposed to be here!” I rehearsed. I had to make sure the tone of my voice sounded like I wanted to be in authority like I was feared, but with a hint of worriment, as if I was, in reality, terrified of the situation. “With broken masks and guts used to hang our people, you monsters—”

“You monsters have done nothing but tournament us and pushed us back!” Wilbur cried, bursting through the front door. In a burst of shock, I yelped, tripping over a pillow and falling onto the couch. “ Now weep on your fucking knees, because you don’t know what’s next!” Wilbur would place his guitar and bags down before jumping over the couch, pouncing on top of me.

“Ow—! Wilbur—! Stop!” I screamed between giggles. His hands would be all over my body, tickling my sides.

I smiled fondly at the memories but felt that aching in my chest because I missed him so much already. It was the next day now, and I was headed to the location where most of our production planning would be. It was a big warehouse somewhat to the outskirts of the city. I was greeted by the director, who was a big jolly man with thick black glasses and a fuzzy beard framing his face.

“Hello, hello!” He greeted, eagerly shaking my hand. Confused yet amused, I gladly shook his hand back. “You must be, (y/n) right?” He asked.

I chuckled a little. “Uh, yup. That’s me!” I smiled proudly. He clasped his hands together and grinned.

“I’ve been thinking about your audition since it happened, (y/n)! We’re super glad to have you as part of our team.” He beamed. “Now come, come! We’ll be getting measurements and showing you some prototypes of what your costume may look like. By the end of the day, we should have everything ready for you.” The director turned around, walking toward a small room as I trailed behind. Looking around, I saw the set assembled with blocks while there were drawing boards of what the set should look like after editing it all together.

We walked into the dressing room and the director introduced me to these two women who will be taking my measurements and doing my makeup. After introductions, he left to take care of other stations on the set. I stood on a circular platform as one woman took some fabric measuring tape to get my exact sizes.

Together we all made some small talk like how was my flight, how long they’d been working in the industry, and things of that nature. “So, (y/n), do you have a boyfriend?” Leslie, the one doing my makeup, asked. If there wasn’t a pale white layer of foundation on my face, they would’ve been sure to see the blush creeping on my cheeks.

“I-I do actually. He’s a musician and streamer.” I stuttered. Leslie looked over to Hazel, who was the lady taking my measurements.

“That sounds exciting! A musician and actress together!” She gleamed. “That’s a whole movie in itself, isn’t it?”

“We’re working on a horror movie, Leslie, not a romantic comedy.” Hazel clarified, jotting down the last of my measurements. I chuckled at her little clarification before my phone buzzed on the vanity table. I looked over to Hazel and as if she read my mind, she nodded her head towards it so that I may have permission to answer.

I trotted over toward my phone, realizing it was Wilbur who was calling me. Immediately, I swiped to answer.

“Hey, honey,” I smiled. “What’re you doing calling me at this hour?” I asked.

“(y/n)! I missed you—! And so does chat. Chat also misses you.” He quickly clarified. “If you couldn’t tell, I’m streaming. Can I see you? It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“You saw me yesterday, Will!” I exclaimed, sitting in the vanity chair.

“Hm,” he hummed. “Not important. Let me see you.” I rolled my eyes before looking at myself in the mirror, eyes widening from how unrecognizable I looked. My face was pure white and half of it was decorated with large, bloodied teeth. Contacts were put in to give me tiny pupils with slight red veins to make it look like my eyes were wide and strained. I had under-eye scars that looked like stitches. Leslie came up to me, holding a detailed red mask of what looked like the devil with the most twisted smile and haunting horns.

“Don’t forget this!” Leslie chimed. I smiled taking it in my grasp. I turned back to Wilbur, who already had his video call on with a silly angle of the camera too close to his face.

“Alright, Will, prepare yourself. Don’t show this to chat because this is a huge spoiler, I’m pretty sure.” I warned. I turned on my camera but made sure it was pointing in my lap. Looking up in the mirror I hovered the mask over my face and then pointed the camera toward the mirror. I watched Wilbur back away from his camera to get a better angle. With one eyebrow raised and a head tilt, he smiled.

“Well, that’s a cool fuckin’ mask but I’m trying to see my (y/n)!” He commented. Slowly, I moved the mask away and his jaw dropped to the floor before a huge smile grew across his face.

“(y/n)! Oh my god, you look so fucking cool! Is that going to be the look for the movie?!” He asked, almost bouncing up and down in his seat like a little boy. I softly giggled, amused by his eagerness.

“Mhmm,” I hummed. “Do you like it?”

“Dude I fucking love it. You look amazing.” He said, cheek resting in his palm. “I wish I could show chat this. You look so fuckin’ cool.” I tried smiling at him, but it only made the teeth look scarier, causing me to laugh. Wilbur noticed my struggle and giggled at my antics.

“Ah, shit, I can’t even give my loving boyfriend a cute little smile!” I exclaimed.

“I love that giant, toothy, monstrous smile anyway, darling! Don’t worry. You’re my cute lil’ demon.” He assured. I sarcastically groaned at the cheesy nickname. He paused, looking at me in admiration before sitting back up. “Alright, well, chat keeps calling me a simp, so I have to go.”

“You are the biggest simp.” I commented.

“Oh, shut up,” he said, squinting at me. “Call me when you get back to your hotel, okay? I love youuuu—”

“I love you tooooooo—” We both dragged the end of our sentence until Wilbur hung up. I leaned back into my chair, an enamored sigh escaping my lips.

Even if he isn’t next to me as I go through the biggest stages of my career, he still finds a way to encourage this heart of mine to pursue my dreams.

♡♡♡

a / n ~ sorry this took so long! Mental health hasn't been serving me the best. Reblogs and likes are super appreciated !! Thank you so much for the support <3 Requests open too!

[doonarose]

The first one that’s right.

(Good Omens Crowley/Aziraphale kissing and romance fic)

Rating: PG/T

Rationale: I’m still processing Season 2 (loved it, no complaints), but we know Aziraphale and Crowley will come out of Season 3 talking to each other properly, and acknowledging, out loud, that they love each other, and actually planning for a future together. And that’s a delicious setting to play in while I figure out how the hell they get there. So, that future, begs the following fic…

Summary: Aziraphale would like to try the thing they did with their mouths that night it all blew up and no, he does not mean, speaking.

Count: 2500ish

“Crowley, you remember when I went to heaven to do The Second Coming?”

Crowley really cannot believe Aziraphale just casually asked him that.

Aziraphale continues quickly, “Right before I left, when we spoke…” he pauses.

When we spoke! Crowley’s mouth has fallen open, his brow furrowed incredulously, a reaction that seems entirely restrained in the face of such audacity. He wills Aziraphale to drop it, eyes flashing a warning as he steps a little closer, crowding into Aziraphale’s space.

Aziraphale manages to clasp his hands together in the gap between them, fidgeting as his gaze shifts to focus on the floor off to the side. It’s a drizzly Wednesday afternoon in the bookshop, completely innocuous, except Aziraphale has chosen today to trap Crowley in a doorway, stand squarely, infuriatingly, in front of him, and ask him if he remembers that day and that conversation.

“Yes, right, when we spoke, that day,” he continues as though Crowley actually had said he remembered. “Well, I think I would like to try that again.”

“Speaking?” Crowley manages to squeeze an extra syllable into the word. It’s absurd but the alternative is that Aziraphale wants to try the second coming again and that’s just not possible. “You’d like to try speaking again. We speak all the time now, Angel, I hardly think we need to do it more.” That’s true, they are much better at speaking now, at talking to each other and listening. They’re getting better, but that doesn’t mean Crowley wants to talk about that.

“No!” Realization dawns on Aziraphale’s face, “Oh, no!” his eyes going wide and his cheeks flushing pink, “Oh, goodness, no, not that. Of course not, I wouldn’t – I’m sorry – ” He grabs Crowley at the top of his arms and squeezes. He takes a deep breath, something Crowley thinks Nina might have taught him. “I love you.” It recenters both of them, lightens the air in the room, and Crowley feels his heartbeat slow and settle, his fight or flight response thwarted with those three simple words of assurance. He rolls his eyes and shrugs Aziraphale’s hands off his arms, the dismissiveness more out of muscle memory than anything else, but the corner of his lips also twitches up. He knows Aziraphale knows he doesn’t always say it back and that’s okay.

Aziraphale’s hands, now hanging unoccupied at his sides, flex sporadically. “Actually, I meant the other thing… with your mouth.”

Oh. Oh. After too long a beat, Crowley manages to say it out loud, “Oh.”

“Only if you wanted to,” Aziraphale rushes. “Obviously only if you wanted to. And we could stop if you didn’t like it and never talk about it again. I just thought we should try it since we’re kind of, well we’re together now and that’s what you do – it’s what lots of people, humans, do, anyway – and the other time was terrible but that wasn’t our fault and –”

“Terrible?!” Crowley squawks, cutting him off.

“Well, no, not terrible, sorry, oh gosh I’m making a mess of this. Humans make relationships look so easy.” Aziraphale whines, covering his face with both hands and blushing pink beneath them.

Crowley has, of course, thought about kissing Aziraphale, sometimes entirely by accident, but, more often than not, very much, quite on purpose. Somehow, it has never occurred to him that it is something Aziraphale might have thought about, too, and after that one, indeed quite doomed attempt, it is taking him quite a long time to process the proposition. What hadn’t Aziraphale just come and kissed him?

Aziraphale continues to blather: “Can we please just pretend I never said anything. We’re doing so nicely now, we’re both much happier, and I shouldn’t have brought all that up again.”

That sinking, bottomless pit feeling in Crowley’s stomach appears. The threat of losing something he never quite had, a feeling he’s unfairly intimate with but learning how to process and to shrug off as not automatically inevitable. And it’s not the world, or Aziraphale, or his freedom that is about to be snatched away. Just a kiss. Angels, certainly demons, aren’t even meant to kiss – definitely not the way he wants to kiss Aziraphale. That’s the domain of humans and all their weird humanity, smushing their wet food/talk/breath holes together as though it’s some sort of fun. What is that even about? Surely one of God’s more bizarre pranks.

Oh, but he really, really wants to. The pang of potential loss makes his stomach twist and his fingertips itch to grab and hold fast and try to kiss all the doubt out of Aziraphale.

But that didn’t go so well last time.

He’s learning, though. “Hang on a minute,” he says, sounding less calm than he’d intended.

Aziraphale fidgets and shakes his head, pouting and tutting because Crowley’s already been standing there, processing, for too long.

“Was it really that terrible?” What Crowley wanted to say was something like ‘Yes please, let’s try it, don’t worry, it’s going to be great!’

“No!” Aziraphale sighs, and tries it more gently, “No, it just wasn’t… I mean everything around it was terrible, wasn’t it?” Crowley’s eyes narrow and an eyebrow arches. “Well, no, I mean, what you said was… lovely… illuminating… It was everything I wanted to hear even if I didn’t know it. But it wasn’t the right time and I didn’t expect you – well, you, I didn’t expect… It was a surprise, when you kissed me, and it wasn’t terrible but I think we can both agree it wasn’t exactly… good.” Aziraphale goes still, bracing for the impact of more argument or indignation or having to backtrack again.

Crowley says nothing, just watches him, for another too-long moment. “So, you want to try again?”

Aziraphale can’t help but break into a proper smile at the infinitesimal, possible progress: ever the optimist. “Yes! That’s all, and as I said, if it’s awful or you don’t like it, of course, we never have to do it again. I just thought it made sense to ask, to try... well to ask to try. But if you don’t want to, that’s completely fine, just say the word and – ”

“I want to.”

“Oh. Okay…Good.”

Crowley keeps count as the seconds pass. He makes it to twelve before he absolutely has to say something. “Ready when you are, Angel.” He swallows because that felt brave in the face of how fast he can feel his heart thumping, how stupidly vulnerable and nervous this is making him feel.

But then he sees Aziraphale’s gaze snap up to meet his, eyes going comically wide, and Crowley realizes Aziraphale’s been staring at his mouth those whole twelve seconds. It makes him even braver, the nerves and the vulnerability still there, but something playful and teasing, their natural rhythm, working its way into the moment.

Aziraphale starts to nod, building resolve even as his eyes slip back to down to Crowley’s lips which Crowley licks and purses before he can stop himself. Aziraphale swallows heavily and checks, “Here? And… and now?”

“I can meet you somewhere else later, if you’d prefer,” Crowley teases some more.

Huffing, Aziraphale flexes his shoulders back once and then grasps Crowley by the upper arms. He hesitates a second longer and then he’s pulling Crowley into him, angling his face to meet Crowley’s lips in a firm, warm press.

It is not dissimilar to the one other time they did this, albeit without all the drama, trauma and world-destroying stakes. Instead, it’s just them, wilfully, openly in love, mouth to mouth in a doorway in the bookshop. Trying kissing.

Aziraphale smells good, better than expected this close, more earthy, more like skin, and his lips are unbelievably soft. Crowley thinks he can taste the remnants of an Earl Grey tea with two sugars and perhaps a scone. He wonders what Aziraphale is thinking and then he realizes he should really, probably shut his eyes, and so he does. He tries to relax into the tight grip around his biceps, leaning into the unconventional embrace instead of just being held there.

This is so weird.

They’re not moving. Crowley’s pretty sure they’re meant to be moving, not just pressing. He realizes with a start that Aziraphale isn’t breathing at all and opens his eyes to check he’s okay and again, it’s just blurry tanned skin splashed with pink, dark splayed eyelashes that he could count if he wanted to because at least Aziraphale got the memo about closing his eyes. The view is strangely captivating even as the static and uncertain press of their mouths is beginning to border on too weird.  And Crowley’s not breathing either and then suddenly he’s breathless.

They break apart on seemingly mutual terms and both take a step back rendering a larger than expected distance between them. Crowley makes a conscious effort to breathe and Aziraphale’s eyes flutter open beautifully.

Crowley won’t say out loud what he’s thinking, he’s not sure he could articulate it very well and it would certainly feature the words ‘weird’ and ‘unexpected’ and ‘woops’. None of which he thinks will be conducive to ever getting to try that again.

But it’s written across Aziraphale’s face, the mirrored consternation that that wasn’t what it was meant to be, it wasn’t like in the books, or the movies, or even a little bit what they imagined. Crowley starts concocting a plan with multiple steps, subterfuge, and, in all likelihood, weather.

Aziraphale licks his lips, takes two determined steps forward and lifts both hands to Crowley’s face, gently holding him there with his palms spread across his cheeks, fingers dipping easily into his hair. He takes only a moment to run both thumbs from the centre of Crowley’s lips out, tracing the crease, tugging ever so gently on his bottom lip, and then across the arch of each cheek. He shifts one hand, sliding it around the back of Crowley’s neck, his thumb pressed to the corner of Crowley’s jaw, and then he pulls him down, rising onto his toes just a little to meet him, to press their lips together again.

Crowley’s eyes fall shut instinctively this time and a small sigh of relief escapes against Aziraphale’s lips. They’re still just pressing together, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, but he’s alive and responding – giving and taking – with him and against him. Aziraphale’s fingers dance across his cheek bone, his other palm warm and secure against the back of Crowley’s neck; Aziraphale’s mouth pressing and pursing against Crowley’s mouth like he plans to try every possible angle and sample each square millimetre. Shifting from bottom lip to top, then back again before drawing the lightest friction of lips on lips as he shifts to kiss at the corner of Crowley’s mouth. Back again and again and again.

Crowley’s hands move to Aziraphale’s sides, grasping the material of his jacket but it isn’t enough of an anchor. They slide to the small of his back, again grabbing fistfuls of the soft material, drawing him in, closer, warmer, dearer, safer, snug.

And this is what proper kissing is like.

Arms slipping further, tighter still, Crowley encompasses him as much as he can, an arm snaking up Aziraphale’s back to rest one hand heavy and petting between his shoulder blades, while the other arm wraps around his waist, fingers finding purchase in the material once more. His lips meet Aziraphale’s in each soft, exploratory press even as his breath comes quicker and not quite enough. He ignores the need to breathe and plan and hope, and instead focuses on everywhere they’re touching and the contented thrum of everything feeling right that settles deep within his chest.

When Aziraphale pulls back it’s only the necessary millimetres to switch their angle and feel the press of Crowley’s nose into his opposite cheek, but even that withdrawal, already over before its reacted to, pulls a tiny, forlorn whimper from Crowley that he’s not able to swallow. And that makes Aziraphale giggle. Right up against Crowley’s lips, a hot puff of air and laughter that Aziraphale immediately tries to stop.

Except Crowley knows, immediately, that he will do anything and everything in his power to make Aziraphale do that again, even if it involves making very undemonic, needy, whiney noises. The thought makes him smile, lips stretching against Aziraphale’s, and the kiss ends far more easily than it began.

They don’t pull apart; their eyes don’t open. Aziraphale’s hands drop and slip easily into Crowley’s blazer and back around his waist. His head tucks up against Crowley’s chest and cheek, finding a perfect spot there, just the right height, to nestle. Crowley entertains his instincts and nuzzles into the white curls at Aziraphale’s temple. He presses a firm kiss there because he can’t help himself.

Crowley wonders how long they’ll be able to hold this perfect moment, to stand here, barely breathing, in such bliss. He wonders why on Earth pressing their mouths together – kissing – feels like that. He wonders when they’ll do it again, how often, how many times, for how long. Will it ever be this good again? What if it gets even better? What else might Aziraphale deign to try of kisses and romance and human love? He wonders what Aziraphale is wondering.

Aziraphale takes a long, loud breath against his clavicle and then blows it out, Crowley can feel him smiling. “We,” Aziraphale says, “Are definitely doing that again.”

Crowley’s contented, happy sigh borders on a shudder but he manages a simple, casual, “Of course, Angel,” into Aziraphale’s hair.

Aziraphale hums his happiness and starts pulling back from the embrace far too soon for Crowley’s liking. When he steps back, though, it’s a thing to behold: his lips and cheeks flushed pink, blue eyes shining and his always mussed hair somehow still conveying that, yes, indeed, he’d just been kissed.

“Fancy a spot of tea?” Aziraphale asks more out of habit than expectation, as he smooths down his waistcoat and straightens his bowtie.  

Surprising even himself, Crowley responds, “Yes, I rather do.”

***

Now with a follow up companion piece (and likely to become a short series of their early kisses): The second one that's quite rubbish And also on AO3!

A/N: I wrote a thing?! It’s an extremely sappy thing by my standards (kind of) but certainly what they deserved. I’m waiting on my AO3 account since that seems the way to do things these days. I haven’t written fic in over eight years and I am still finding character and voice with these two so feedback or discussions very welcome! This is just the first part of at least eight, each delving into a subsequent kiss because, clearly, I am a total sappy sap. And then also a potential (unlikely) opus to try to bridge Season 2 to this blissful future.

A/N2: So I posted this pretty much exactly a month ago and since then I've written... over 30K words that follows on from this beginning and you can go and read all of it here as well as two 8k stand alones that just jump to the good (explicit) bit.

[katyawriteswhump]

power of love, part 17

PREVIEW: "Steve does that twisty thing with his tongue that Eddie couldn’t stop dreaming about. He’s gotten his whole body wrapped tight round Eddie, legs hitched round Eddie’s hips. In the water, he’s weightless, and as for Eddie… Whoops, can’t help it, Stevie! Heaven exists after all, because Eddie’s gotten both his hands clamped happily to Steve’s butt, and he’s rutting against him, raising waaay more than a semi..."

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 18

CW for temporary character death... and then steddie cuteness, promise!

Eddie POV continued

O’Sullivan regards Eddie like something he’s just scraped off the bottom of his boot, then turns about and grabs Steve’s drooping chin. “Tell us where the girl is, Harrington. Or Loverboy’s gonna wish he’s never been born.”

Eddie’s stomach performs a sickening flip. Steve twists from O’Sullivan’s grip, looks pretty much ready to spit:

“Okay, okay,” he says. “I know who you mean. I never saw her. Ever! I swear! She’s dead. That’s what I heard… uh… yeah. Dead. Right? Trust me, she was swallowed by that Upside-Down-gate-craziness. Happy now? HAPPY NOW?”

O’Sullivan sighs. Then backhands Steve, hard, around the face. The white of Steve’s eyes flash up. He slumps limply against the guy behind him. They let him slide to the floor, impacting with a soft thud.

“If I were you, Munson, I’d consider your answers more carefully,” says O’Sullivan, as casually as if Steve had failed a physics test.

Eddie is left alone, with Steve lying on the floor, slumped on his side. Time stands still. A yellow strip-light flickers. Eddie remains plastered against the wall.

As if moving would be to concede this is real.

Steve isn’t moving. Steve is completely motionless.

Steve is… 

After his second major concussion, Robin told Eddie, Steve wasn’t supposed to drink. But there was more to it, Eddie recalls. He can’t remember who spilled the rest, Steve or Robin, but Eddie knows—the doctor’s warning had been brutal. Any more head trauma, and Steve might have a stroke, a brain bleed, go blind, deaf, lose his memory, go mad. He could die.

A flash of wild terror spurs Eddie into action. He rushes to Steve, eases him over, gives him a little shake. “Steve? Steve!” He lifts Steve’s head and shoulders into his lap, cupping his face, jostling him gently. “You’re gonna be okay, Stevie. I’m gonna slay those son-of-a-bitches for this. Wake up. Wake up!”

He brushes the hair from Steve’s face. It’s so stupidly soft and warm, and his skin is warm too, hot even. There’s reddish marks around Steve’s temple and cheekbone where O’Sullivan struck him. “Not so bad, huh? C’mon. Wakey wakey, buddy.”

Eddie feels the blood trickling from Steve’s ear, mingling with the mud on Eddie’s jeans, before he sees it.

“Oh God, Baby, no, no, no, no, no.”  Eddie lowers his cheek to Steve’s lips. No breath. NO BREATH! He fumbles for a pulse, and…

Time passes.

Tears drench Eddie’s face then dry up then start again. He hugs Steve to him, rocking him as if that would help, showering kisses on Steve’s hair till it’s matted with tears.

Eventually, Eddie’s arms ache so bad he shifts position. He cradles Steve more squarely across his lap and notices the scrap of paper half-tucked in Steve’s pocket. It’s the same green paper that Steve wrote that douchey sucker-punch note on.

Not that it matters now. Nothing matters now. Eddie reaches for it and reads it anyhow. 

Eddie, I love you. Please don’t follow me. Steve x

The sourest tears yet flood his eyes. “I love you, too. I love you, I love you. We shouldn’t have worked. We should’ve hated each other's guts. But we did work, which was totally nuts. Jesus Christ, I loved you so much.” 

Talk about timing, Munson. Story of my life. Story of my fucking life.

He wishes those bastards would come in and finish him. The thought of a future without Steve is unbearable.

…

Steve POV

Steve’s been here before.

His pain dies in an instant. The blood-red veil lifts from in front of his eyes. That wordlessly singing voice trickles through the waters, reassuring him everything will be all right. 

This time, he sure as heck doesn’t buy that candy-ass bull.

He can see Eddie, though it’s like he’s peering at him through mists. Eddie’s pain, on the other hand, is as raw and real to Steve as a dagger twisting in his gut. He hears Eddie’s voice, too, shaken by endless sobs: “Jesus Chris, I loved you so much.”

“That past tense sucks, Eddie. I love you, too.”

Eddie can’t hear, of course. Even scarier, Steve sees his own body, snug in Eddie’s arms, and he sure as heck isn’t in it. The swirling blue fogs between them thicken, and he hears a trickle of water. No, no, no, no, no! Don’t take me away. Still not yet. Please? I’ve gotta get back to him! 

“You know what you have to do,” says that now-totally-annoying voice in his head.

Steve spins around. His spooky-ass fairy-water-god-spirit is floating around like a nerdy freshman with a crush on him. He raises some disturbingly translucent arms to the heavens. “You’re really starting to piss me off, you know that?”

“You know what you have to do.”

They sorta smile. He glares, while formulating a ballpark approximation of what’s supposed to happen next. Red tide rises, blue tide sweeps through these tunnels like a tsunami and BOOM washes these suckers to Hell. Or whatever. El comes back to Hawkins, defeats Vecna for good, saves the world.

He needs to channel his anger, feed that hate. One major problem:

“Hate to be a bummer, but I’m not being roped into your world of crazy. Not right now.” He plants his ghostly hands on his hips. “I can’t flush away the first guy who loved me back, like he was a dead goldfish or something.”

“You cannot drown him with love.”

“Seriously, if you don’t cut the cryptic bullshit, I’m gonna have to punch you.” 

“Your power never came from anger, Steve. You’ll do anything to protect them, remember? Anything… anything.”

“Huh?” He turns that one over in his mind. Actually, it makes some sense. He shrugs and peeps over his shoulder. A single glance at Eddie, hunched and miserable, growing ever more distant, and that burning core of hate within him fades. Something a shitload stronger replaces it.

That’s when he feels it. A strange drag from the depths of his soul, an irresistible gravity that—somehow, he knows this—draws every drop of water in Hawkins toward the tunnels.

Oh. Crap. This is gonna be huge.

He squeezes his eyes tight, concentrates hard. 

I’ll do anything to protect him. Anything. Anything… Jesus Christ, Eddie, I really hope this works!

…

Eddie POV

At length, a couple of O’Sullivan’s minions come in, grab Eddie by his arms, hoist him up. He clings to Steve’s cold hand, like a kid clinging to a broken toy, till he’s forced to let him drop. The door slams between them.

“You’re just gonna leave him on the floor?” He mutters it way too quiet, keeps on muttering, as if it would distract him from the searing pain in his heart. “My uncle, a ton of decent guys I know—they served their country. Did it for reasons that made sense to them at the time. Wondering how this makes sense to you? Murdering teens. Hunting little girls. Bet your folks are real proud.”

They frogmarch him back to that vast hall. One of them points to a tall, upright box. Screw it, it looks like a coffin! O’Sullivan stalks over, and a white-hot hatred seizes Eddie, teeth grinding, because he’s totally beyond words.

O’Sullivan points to the box. “We call this the chokey. I suggest you tell us everything you know, and fast, or you will be spending some time in it. We also have one with spikes. It’s called an Iron Maiden.”

That’s when Eddie totally cracks up. “Iron Maiden? Awesome!” He manages several twangs on an air guitar, before he’s grabbed again, mid silent power-chord. They can’t cut off his genuine if joyless laughter: “You couldn’t make this shit up! This is the end of the Twentieth Century, man! I mean, I’m a huuuuuge fan of Iron Maiden, don’t get me wrong, but… Oh my God, oh my God, this is fucking insane!”

O’Sullivan looks pissed, and Eddie is shoved toward the upright coffin. That’s the point where Eddie hears the deafening thunder of the approaching flood.

Panic erupts in the hall. A split second later, the wall of water slams into him and sweeps him along, completely submerged. Screw Iron Maiden—his lungs are caught in an iron clamp. He sees his captors in the water, floating, fighting, scrambling. Drowning! Eddie’s panic swells bringing the swell of darkness with it…

His hand is grabbed, then he’s tugged close, held tight. He breathes something far sweeter than air, because Steve’s suddenly there, and he looks fiiiine, apart from… Oh shit, his eyes are no longer brown. They’re a deep, swirling midnight blue, like a whirlpool that’s gonna suck Eddie in. Which he kinda does, and Eddie’s good with that.

Steve’s lips close over Eddie’s, and the kiss is mind-blowing. Almost instantly, the weight of life lifts from Eddie’s shoulders, sweet air fills his lungs, and everything rocks. Steve anchors them both, as the flood rushes by, allowing Eddie to get totally in to the kiss.

Oh yeah, Baby! 

Steve does that twisty thing with his tongue that Eddie couldn’t stop dreaming about. He’s gotten his whole body wrapped tight round Eddie, legs hitched round Eddie’s hips. In the water, he’s weightless, and as for Eddie… Whoops, can’t help it, Stevie! Heaven exists after all, because Eddie’s gotten both his hands clamped happily to Steve’s butt, and he’s rutting against him, raising waaay more than a semi.

The awesomeness is mildly interrupted by Steve’s voice in his head. “We have to finish this, Eddie. We have to get rid of these suckers, so Eleven can save the world.”

This should be shocking, but Eddie’s so punch-drunk on crazy he barely blinks. I think it’s kinda finished, thinks Eddie. Seriously, haven’t you drowned them already? Oh, and sorry ’bout the mahoosive boner.

“Back at ya, man. It’s not about killing them, tho’.”

Woah, you can hear MY voice too?

“’Course I can, dipshit! You’re part of this—haven’t you figured it out yet? It’s about love not hate, okay? You gotta help me.”

Help you with what, Babe?

“Um… I think I need to open a gate to another dimension.”

The Upside Down?

“Uuuuuh, not sure if I can do that one. It’s another one.”

Riiight. Sounds tricky. Can’t we just make out forever?

“Screw it—that could work.”

The kiss is already messy, sloppy, bordering on bruising, tongues scrubbing roughly, and teeth skimming tender flesh. As they happily suck each other’s faces off, Eddie senses a magnet-like current flowing between them, which doesn’t feel like Steve. It’s the stillness of ages, the brutal strength of nature, and a savage fury that escalates to a scream that’s definitely NOT Steve’s voice, though, actually, it might as well be:

“GET OUT OF MY TOWN AND STAY AWAY FROM MY KIDS!”

A mini thunderstorm whips up in Eddie’s head, crashing, cracking and fizzing like his skulls gonna explode. He enfolds Steve tighter than ever and kisses him like the fate of the world depends on it.  

Which it might. Which is totally rad. There’s plenty worse ways to save the world than kissing Steve Harrington.

A boom louder than an AC/DC concert shakes the crap out of him, and everything fades to black.

Part 18

...

I might be taking a short break before I write more of this... maybe not, but life is not kind right now... we'll see ;)

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

[kay-elle-cee]

@jilytoberfest 31 Prompts: Day 21 || 759 Words || Read on Ao3 —

Lily curses under her breath as she exits the tube station, checking her phone and seeing the time. Ten minutes late.

She’d agreed to tea with her mother this weekend but hadn’t counted on her pilates class running over and having a complete domino effect on her day. She sprints across the road, heedless of the crosswalk’s warning in the absence of cars, and rounds the corner to their favorite tea shop, only to freeze in her tracks.

Her mother is sitting there, and even from this angle—the back of Gillian Evans’ head, hand lifting a teacup up to her lips—she can see the tension radiating off of her in waves. 

Because she’s not alone.

Sitting across from her mother is Euphemia Potter, one of her long-time Bridge partners, and a young man who smiles pleasantly as he nods along to whatever conversation the two women are having. His attention flits between the two, and Lily watches as he tosses his head back in loud, unrestricted laughter as the older women chuckle, his black hair rustling in the breeze.

Fucking mum. 

Lily had been dodging her mother’s insistence at setting her up for months—ever since Petunia announced her engagement and was met by much fawning from both of the Evans parents. She should’ve expected this.

The man adjusts himself in his chair and Lily can’t help notice (because she’s got bloody eyes, not because she’s actually considering this) how attractive Mrs. Potter’s son is. His smile stands out bright against his tanned skin—he’s got his mother’s complexion and temperament, from the way Lily watches him interact animatedly with the two women. Square-rimmed glasses accentuate high cheekbones and she’s too far away to make out the color of his eyes but still feels the breath catch in her throat when they make contact with hers from across the street. 

Quickly, his eyes flicker to where her mother sits in front of him and then back to her, as if instantly noting the resemblance, however faint it might be (cheekbones and curl pattern, that’s really it). An eyebrow lifts and disappears behind the mass of black curls that fall over his forehead, and his eyes leave hers once more to glance at the empty seat in front of him.

An invitation.

To a tea she was already late for and he wasn’t bloody invited to, according to her calendar.

With a raise of her chin, Lily lifts her brows up in a bit of defiance. A bit of ‘Who do you think you are, interloping on mother-daughter time?’ and is met—concerningly—with a smirk that breaks out over his face.

Hazel eyes never leaving hers (when had she gotten close enough to notice that they’re hazel?), he opens his mouth and speaks, finger pointing traitorously in her direction and drawing the attention of both older women to her presence. 

Her mother’s smile is strained—tardiness being her biggest pet peeve—as Lily finally makes her way through the little gate of the restaurant, hand resting against the back of the empty chair.

“Sorry for my tardiness,” she apologizes, bending down to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Class ran late this morning and nothing’s gone right since. I didn’t realize we were meeting anyone. Mrs. Potter, it’s lovely to see you again.”

Euphemia graces her with an easy smile, unperturbed by her late arrival. “It’s good to see you as well, Lily, dear. You remember my son, James?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” the man—James—interjects with a weak laugh, turning to his mother. “I stopped coming to Bridge with you when I was ten.”

“You make a memorable impression, love.”

His cheeks flush and Lily can’t help but find it all endearing, even if this whole set-up is unexpected (and unwelcome, she keeps having to remind herself).

Lily gives him a nod and takes the seat across from him, inexplicably more focused on her posture than usual. “Nice to see you again, James.”

The mothers press their heads together, chatting earnestly, and James leans towards Lily with a mischievous smile.

“You don’t remember me at all, do you?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

She leans in, mirroring his tone. “I remember a little messy-haired menace trying to rip the heads off all my dolls. Is that you, by chance?”

A short burst of breath caresses her cheek as he lets out a choked laugh, and she smiles. This close together, she can see the flecks of gold and green in his brown irises.

“Of course not, Evans, what do you take me for?”

[polizwrites]

Coming Around Again

This is a fill for today’s  @fluffystevefest  prompt JULY 7: STEVE'S ...  + Habits + First times + Happy ending, along with my  @julybreakbingo   square  B4 - Flashback and  @buckybarnesevents   Build A Bucky Bingo  July: Anxiety prompt.  

Fandom:  MCU/Marvel Pairing:  Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes Rating: General Tags:  post CA:TWS canon divergence,  recovering!Bucky,  flashback, reconnecting Summary:  When Bucky calls Steve out on an old habit, he remembers the first time they shared an apartment.    Word Count: 572

“You can sleep here.”  Steve said, opening the door to his guest bedroom. Bucky followed him inside and set his knapsack on the dresser.    “I’m glad you decided to come and stay with me.”  

Steve was over the moon, to be honest, but he’d been coached by Sam and Natasha both not to set too many expectations.   While the man standing here with him in his apartment was no longer the Winter Soldier,  he also wasn’t the Bucky Barnes Steve had known … and loved.  It was a little nerve-wracking, navigating this new relationship, whatever it might turn out to be.  

Seeming oblivious of Steve’s inner turmoil, Bucky nodded, looking around.  “It’s awful nice - better than any place we lived growing up.”  

“You’ve got that right,”  Steve replied with a chuckle.  “Although I’m still working on  making it feel like home.”  He bit back the impulse to add something about how wherever Bucky was, that felt like home. 

A smile ghosted across Bucky’s  lips as he huffed out a soft laugh.  “You still do that, huh?”    

“Do what?”   Steve asked. Whatever it was, he’d do it a hundred times, just for a chance to hear that achingly familiar laugh, see that smile that made his heart race again.  

“Rub at the back of your neck when you’re nervous, or worried about something.”

Steve caught himself, hand half-raised to do it again.  “Yeah, I guess I do.” 

“What’re you anxious about, pal?” 

Steve flashed back to the first time Bucky had asked that, back when they’d just moved in together.  

---

It was the middle of August and the entire city was sweltering.   They’d managed to squeeze two beds into the tiny bedroom of their apartment - the only room with a window that got any kind of breeze - but there was very little room for privacy. 

Steve hadn’t expected for Bucky to strip completely naked for bed.  “Uh, Buck?”  he’d stammered, trying not to get caught staring.  

“It’s too damn hot for a nightshirt,” Bucky replied casually,  “Besides, you’ve seen all this before, like when we go swimming at the Y.” 

“That’s different.  It’s not just you and me at the Y.”  Steve’s voice shook as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to control his  reaction to seeing Bucky in all his glory.  

“What’re you anxious about, pal?”   Bucky’s voice was unexpectedly soft as he sat down, patting the bed beside him.  “Like you said, it’s just you and me.” 

---

A light touch on his arm brought Steve back to the present.  Bucky was giving him a concerned look, one eyebrow raised. “You okay, Steve?”  

He shrugged, resisting the impulse to rub the back of his neck again. “Just a bit of wool-gathering.  I was thinking back to that first summer in our old apartment.” 

Bucky nodded slowly.  “It was real hot, wasn’t it?   And our beds weren’t any more than about a foot  apart.”  His expression changed to something both thoughtful and cautious.   “After a while, we pushed ‘em together, didn’t we?” 

Steve swallowed hard.  “Yeah, Buck, we did.”   They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, then Steve opened his arms wide. 

“So maybe,” Bucky went on, after a kiss that - while brief and mostly chaste - was everything Steve had remembered and longed for.  “I won’t always sleep in this room.” 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Steve replied softly, cupping Bucky’s cheek in one hand.   “I’ll be right down the hall.” 

[whoblewboobear]

📓 💙 if you have the spoons

Hi, Clem!!

Ough! Okay yes! So the other day I was thinking about a very cute friends to lovers au for JacePorter where it’s like if Rhett and Link from GMM were like actually romantically together but not until much later in their careers. So here we go 💖

~

Jace and Porter have been inseparable since the 1st grade. The way Jace tells it, little Ambrose Bellgate kept making fun of his ears so new kid Porter threw a pencil at the little brat and told him to leave Jace alone.

Porter remembers it differently, that Jace DEFINITELY joined in on the pencils throwing because he was a menace of a 7 year old. It ended with a crying Ambrose and both Jace and Porter stuck inside during recess. They make the most of it though by reading a comic Porter snagged from his brother’s collection and sharing the fruit snacks Jace’s mom packed for him that morning. 

They still bicker about the details of that story even though they have countless more from middle school, high school, college, and even more documented throughout their shared YouTube career. 

Even after all these years they still do everything together, so much so that fans speculate about how they could still be that close after 30 years. If it’s been that long they must be in love right? 

Much to Jace’s dismay they aren’t. 

He has, however, been hopelessly and embarrassingly in love with his best friend since high school. He thought things would change when he started dating his first boyfriend but he squarely fucked that up when he moaned Porter’s name during his first time. He’d hoped his feelings would die down when Porter started seeing his first girlfriend. But then there was another and another and Jace just found himself jealous of every single girlfriend and still in love with his completely oblivious best friend. 

He didn’t think anything between them could be a possibility until he watched Porter sneak off with a guy in a club bathroom during college. He pointedly doesn’t ask, but it does give him a tiny ounce of hope.

Present day, Jace is unhappily married, Porter is contently divorced and maybe one night in their shared office Jace is still buzzing from the office party they threw to celebrate a wrap on season 20 of their morning show. Porter stumbles through the door drunk and giddy and plops down next to Jace on their couch. 

Somehow in the haze of alcohol and fuzzy feelings Jace found his way into Porter’s lap and Porter can’t get enough of the sounds Jace is making. And Gods, somewhere in his stupor he’s back in college listening to Jace getting railed in the next room over while he jerks off wishing it were him in that room instead of whatever douchey asshole boyfriend Jace had at the time. 

But then Jace is kissing down his neck and fuck the past, he wants to live in the now, where Jace is grinding down hard on him and he has a slight pink tint to his cheeks from the alcohol and all he can think of is how gorgeous he looks right now. How good Jace’s lips feel against his how- How Jace is married… and this probably isn’t okay. Porter doesn’t like Jace’s stupid idiot husband Ambrose (yes, that Ambrose. Typical Jace to marry his bully much to Porter’s fucking dismay.) 

But he’s not about to fuck up Jace’s relationship over one drunken make out. So he pulls away. And he doesn’t miss the small pout that crosses Jace’s lips before he’s climbing off of him and saying he’s sorry. And Porter looks at him, like really looks at him and takes his hand.

“You don’t have to be, I liked it.” And that’s all Porter needs to say before Jace is mentally signing the divorce papers. Because fuck Ambrose. He still makes fun of his ears and they’ve had more arguments than Jace could count about how he gets to fuck off to his “little fantasyland” (Fuck you, Ambrose 🙄🔪) with Porter, while he works a shitty 9-5 he hates. It’s not Jace’s fault, he told him he makes more than enough to provide for the both of them, but of COURSE Ambrose took issue with that too like he does with-

“Hey, hey calm down, look at me. Breathe.” Porter can tell he’s thinking, running through every little scenario in his head because Jace is prone to worrying. It’s why they work so well together. Jace worries and Porter reminds him everything will be okay. Always. Just like he is now. Once Jace heart has slowed to an acceptable pace, Porter holds Jace’s hands in his and asks, “Are you sure, Stardiamond.” 

Jace nods and for the first time in years, he truly has everything he’s ever wanted. 

[katy-kt-katie]

Just Like Comity

Wrote a ficlet to resolve the Scully / Mulder / Detective White arc, because I just can't stand Syzygy and D. White!

Storylink on AO3: LINK Love your comments or kudos!

He grabbed her hand as they exited their hotel.

Damn, it felt good to hold his hand in public.

They’d snuck away, a spring break of sorts to the coast of New Hampshire. Mulder said Portsmouth, at least in photos, had reminded him of Martha’s Vineyard but without the familial baggage.

They had been together for a few months now, but they realized they had both wanted more from their relationship for years. They were making up for lost time and Scully was happy to take a break for a change and just spend time together as two people in love.

“Market Square is just around this corner, according to the map, Scully,” he said, smiling at her and finding her lips in a peck.

“Oh. Sorry,” a voice said, as they bumped into this person on the sidewalk; a pedestrian collision as they’d turned the corner. “Agent Mulder?”

Scully, had been kissing Mulder during the wreck, and was rubbing her sore teeth, but looked up to see none other than…

“…Detective White.” He smiled, “Pleasure to see you.”

“Yeah, it’s great to see you too. It’s Captain now, but you can call me Angela.”

Mulder nodded. “You remember my partner, Dana…Agent Scully.”

“Of course,” White said.

The three of them stood awkwardly for a moment. 

“So, Captain?” Mulder said. “Congratulations.”

“Yes,” she sighed, eyeing Scully. “I left Comity and took the position here, in Providence.”

“What are the odds,” Scully sighed under her breath.

She felt Mulder’s hand move to the small of her back and then his fingertips spread out, squeezing the muscles on either side of her spine. She knew he was trying to tell her to settle down.  He leaned into her ear and whispered, “We aren’t in Comity and I’m with you, honey.”

She licked her lips and sighed, trying to let go of her jealousy.

White was eyeing the exchange. “Am I making this up, or were you two kissing?” 

“Nope, your eyes are not deceiving you,” Mulder replied.

Scully couldn’t help but smile as she looked at her man; so proud to be with her and happy to share it with a woman who once tried to sever their connection.

White laughed and gestured towards them, pointing her finger back and forth and shaking her head.

Scully tucked her face into Mulder’s shoulder so they couldn’t see her roll her eyes.

“What?” Mulder said.

“It’s just…you seemed like you hated each other on that case. Bickering, irritation, rolling eyes at each other. I figured you two had been begging for reassignments.”

Scully laughed.

“Oh, that was the celestial alignment,” Mulder said. “Turns out we’ve been in love for years. There’s no one like her,” he said, gently lifting her chin and pecking her lips again.

Scully stared at him with complete contentment. Her man, fawning over her in the street. God how she loved him.

“Okay…” White shrugged.

“...And um…we’d ask for your discretion,” Mulder said, winking at her, “bureau doesn’t need to know.”

White shrugged and nodded, “I’d never want to stand in the way.”

Scully scoffed, quietly. Mulder nudged her.

“Well…great to see you, Captain White. We are going to check out Market Square. It’s a sneak away vacation for us, so I can’t imagine we’ll cross paths again.”

“Probably not,” she said, leaning in to give Mulder a kiss on the cheek.  He allowed it. Scully rolled her eyes as White walked away.

“Just like Comity,” he teased.

“What?” she protested.

“The eye roll!”

Scully smiled wide and confessed, "She called you at the office several times after that case. I deleted the messages."

"Scully. You devious woman," he pulled her tighter into his side. 

“The only thing like Comity is a woman is going to mount you tonight, but it’s not going to be her,” she said with venom, “It’s going to be me.”

“And I’ll be a willing participant, honey. Instead of confused.” He paused, “My future is clear as day.”

Scully stood on her tip toes and found his lips and then his tongue, lost in a public display for a moment.

Mulder whispered in her ear, “I loved you then, I just didn’t know what to do about it.”

She playfully grabbed his ass, “I did too. That’s why I got so pissed off,” she grabbed his shirt in her hands, "and why I deleted the messages," she grinned.

Mulder grabbed her hand even tighter and pulled her towards a farmer’s market booth adorned with fresh flowers, saying out loud to himself, “What should I get for the love of my life?”

[endlessbittersweetdreams]

"Broken & Beautiful" Chapter 17

     It’s the second day of the new year, and Jake and I are still in bed. Yes, we are still together. And yes, we are still very much in love. While most of the citizens of NYC spent New Year’s Eve in Times Square, Jake and I opted to attend a party at Ari’s massive brownstone. Since neither of us had to work on New Year’s Day, we ended up staying in one of Ari’s guest rooms until we decided to go back to Jake’s apartment. Neither of us felt like cooking, and so we settled for some coffee and donuts on Jake’s sofa. Because Jake doesn’t own a TV, we killed time by reading and then taking a stroll around his neighborhood.

     After eating leftover Chinese food for dinner, we retired for the night. I ended up falling asleep on my back while he rested on his stomach, his arm draped over me. I’m still in the same position, in fact, when Jake stirs next to me. He wakes me by nuzzling my neck and then kissing my collarbone. I whine a little bit at being disturbed, and I can feel the vibration of his chuckle against my skin.

     “Good morning, beautiful,” he murmurs as he moves so he’s on top of me.

     I place my hands on his sides as we kiss, letting out a happy sigh into his mouth. I thread my fingers through his hair while he runs one of his hands from my neck, to my shoulder, and then down my arm. We maneuver ourselves so that I’m now on top of him, and I begin to kiss my way down his body. I begin with his forehead and then the tip of his nose, moving on to his cheek and then his lips. I linger there for a few minutes, and he lets me take control of the kiss. I pull back to look at him, reaching out to trace my finger along his cheekbone and jawline.

     My mind wanders, as it so often does in the morning, and I think about how much things changed for me last year. Up until a few months ago, I never thought I’d be where I am now: in Jake’s bed, completely in love with the man stretched out beneath me. Not only that, but it’s been wonderful to see the change that’s taken place within him. Can he still be guarded and aloof at times? Oh, yes. Definitely. But he’s more open with me. 

     And though Simone still has a grip on Jake, it’s not so strong that he allows her to get away with just anything. After he found out about her harsh assessment of our relationship, Jake stayed true to his promise to “have a little chat,” with her. He took care of it right away, in fact, calling her before we went to bed. It didn’t matter that it was midnight and that she was asleep, or that I insisted that he didn’t have to; that I was fine; that I had just been “rattled.” I remember sitting in my living room, rendered speechless as Jake stood up to Simone. I silently cheered him on as he paced the floor, informing her that she could “keep her fucking mouth shut,” when it comes to us; that she doesn’t “know a fucking thing,” about what we have. I couldn’t hear what Simone had to say, but I figured that she was trying to manipulate her way out of trouble. Jake didn’t want to hear it, of course, and he ended the conversation as quickly as he’d started it.

     Two nights later, Simone sat us down at a table during Shift Drinks and apologized profusely for what she’d said. Her excuse was that she was “going through something," and that she had taken it out on me. She swore, up and down, that she absolutely adores me, and that she wants nothing but the best for us. Though Jake seemed to believe her without question, I remained skeptical. While I decided to keep the peace for Jake’s sake, I decided that I would never let my guard down again. Not after seeing Simone’s true colors.

     I crawl off of Jake and cuddle up to him, draping my arm over his stomach and letting out a yawn. Through my sleepy eyes, I can see the sun streaming through the window. I scrunch up my nose and say “We have to get out of bed. Don’t we?”

     “Well, I don’t know about that. I mean, we can skip work.”

     “Yeah. One of us can. If both of us do that, Howard will get suspicious. He doesn’t even like the fact that we’re together.”

     “Yeah. Well, you and I know where he can shove it.”

     “You sure he has room?” I snark back, pushing the covers aside and setting my feet down on the floor.

     “Doubt it,” he retorts.

     I’m the first to get out of bed, wearing pajama pants and Jake’s pullover, and he watches as I wander over to his sofa. I open up my overnight bag and set out the things I’ll need for the day, and I can hear him sigh. I stop what I’m doing and give him a curious look. “What?”

     “Are you ever going to give that back?”

     I grin at him. “Well, I don’t know. I like it. It’s so warm and comfy.”

     Jake gets out of bed, wearing his favorite pair of sweatpants. “And mine.”

     “Exactly. That’s why I stole it.”

     He scoffs. “Just for that, I’m going to be the first to take a shower.” He makes his way to the bathroom and steps inside, shutting the door behind himself. I’m about to pull something else out of my bag when the door opens and Jake looks over at me. “Care to join me? Save some water?”

     I smirk at him. “Yeah. Because conserving water is all you care about.” I pretend to think about it for a moment, and then say “But yes, I will take you up on your offer.”

     It’s about four hours into my shift, and I’m humming to myself as I wipe down the bar top. Jake stands just a few feet away, preparing a martini, and he gives me a little wink when he catches me watching him.

     Will startles me when he suddenly walks up to the bar, leaning toward me and speaking quietly. “Lilah, I need to talk to you.”

     “Umm ... Yeah. Sure.” Turning to Jake, I say “Taking five.” He nods in acknowledgment, and I follow Will to a quiet place. “Okay, Will. What’s up?”

     “Look. There’s no easy way to tell you this. So, I’m just going to say it.”

     There’s a pause. One that seems a little too long for my taste. “Will, say it!”

     He takes in a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and then blurts out “Your mother is here.”

     I stare at Will in shock, and I feel like the air has been sucked out of me. He reaches out to steady me, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

     “You okay?”

     “Yeah. I mean, no. I mean ... Will, are you sure it’s her?”

     “Yes. I saw her walk in.”

     “Where is she?”

     “Rosalynn took her to a table on the second floor. I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.”

     I shake my head. “No. It’s a good thing you did. I just ... What’s she doing here, Will?”

     “I don’t know. Maybe she came to see you?”

     I scoff. “Doubt it.”

     “What do you want me to do? You want me to get rid of her?”

     “No. Technically, she hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s a guest, just like everyone else. Don’t let her know I’m here. Hopefully, she won’t see me when she leaves. I mean, she didn’t notice me when she came in. Right?”

     “Yeah. I guess.” He watches me for a few seconds. “We’d better get back to work. Are you going to be okay?”

     I shrug and answer weakly “Honestly? I don’t know. But I don’t have a choice. Do I?”

     I let him go and then lean against the wall, tilting my head back a bit. I take a moment to compose myself and then go back to work, and Jake watches me curiously as I walk past him.

     “Hey. Everything all right?”

     “No. Not really.” I look up at the second floor. I don’t see Maggie. At least, not yet.

     He follows my gaze and then looks back at me, lifting a brow. “Looking for somebody?”

     I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Jake, Maggie’s here.” He stares at me in shock. “Yeah. How do you think I feel?”

     “What are you going to do?”

     I give him a helpless look. “I don’t know.”

     It’s an hour after Will gave me the news, and I’m on high alert. When I can, I keep my eyes on the stairs that lead up to the second floor. But I have guests to wait on, and one of said guests happens to be a man with a lot of questions. I become distracted, and I can no longer stay under Maggie’s radar. She’s on her way to the door when she happens to glance in my direction, and we lock eyes. At first, I think she’s going to turn and walk away. I actually hope she will. But then she does the worst thing possible: she walks toward me.

     “Lilah?”

     I swallow hard, staring at her. Distracted, I hand the guest a menu and step away from him. “What are you doing here?”

     “Your father and I are in town on business. He’s stuck in a meeting, and I thought I’d come here for dinner. I didn’t realize you work here.”

     “Of course you didn’t. I only told you in one of hundreds of letters I sent to you.”

     “Lilah --”

     I try to maintain my composure. Howard would be livid if I blew up at a guest. As I turn to walk away, I tell her “I hope you enjoyed your meal.” She calls my name again and, despite my better judgment, I look at her again.

     “Can we talk? Please?”

     I want to tell her that it’s too late to talk, and that she should leave. Despite my better judgment, I nod. “Okay. Fine. My shift ends at 10:00.”

     Though Maggie doesn’t seem happy about putting things off, she seems to understand. With a nod, she says “All right. I’ll see you then,” before she walks out the door.

     The time for Shift Drinks has arrived, and I’m a wreck. According to Will, my mother showed up shortly after Howard left. This left him with the chance to let her into the restaurant without Howard finding out. While Will stalls Maggie, I am stuck in what I call “Coward Mode.” In other words, I’m sitting on the floor behind the bar and nibbling on saltine crackers. When I’m nervous, I get hungry. And sometimes, I even become queasy. Right now, I think these crackers are the only things I can keep down.

     Jake walks over to me and shakes his head. “What are you doing?”

     I look up at him, say “I’m hiding,” and then take a bite of yet another cracker.

     He joins me on the floor, sitting as close to me as possible. He takes a swig of beer and then reaches out to take a cracker, and I lightly slap the back of his hand.

     “Sorry. Reflex.” I hold the stack of crackers out to him, and he takes one. “I know what you’re going to say, Jake.” I look over at him, and he raises a brow. “You’re going to tell me that I can’t hide out forever; that I’ll have to face her sooner or later. Right?”

     “No. I was going to tell you that Sasha and Ari can create a diversion while I sneak you out the back.”

     I lean toward him, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Ugh. If only.” I let out a dramatic sigh. “All right. All right. I guess it’s time to face the beast,” I declare as I stand up, straightening my clothes and brushing off the cracker crumbs. “How do I look?”

     Jake stands up as well, reaching out to give my hand a reassuring squeeze. “Beautiful.” 

     Letting out the breath I didn’t realize I’ve been holding, I begin the long walk to Maggie’s table. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” I say, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from her.

     “Oh, that’s all right. Your friend Will was just telling me about the work you do here.”

     “We really couldn’t get by without her,” Will comments, giving me a wink when I raise my brow at him. “I’ll leave you two alone. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kincaid.”

     I watch as Will walks away, wanting to shake my head at him. Does he really think that singing my praises is going to help me?

     “He’s a nice man. Handsome, too.”

     “That, he is,” I agree.

     Maggie picks up her wine glass and looks at me over the rim. “Are you certain there isn’t a chance for you two to get back together?”

     Not even five minutes into the conversation, and she’s commenting on my love life. “I’m sure. Will and I agreed that we’re better off as friends.”

     “Hmm.”

     And there it is! Maggie’s famous “hmm,” sound; the one that says that she’s already judging me.

     “Are you seeing someone, at least?”

     I debate my answer. If I tell her the truth, she’ll ask me questions. I’m not ashamed of Jake. I couldn’t be more proud of him. It’s just ... I know this woman. The moment she finds out that he’s a bartender, she’ll write him off. There’s only one type of man Maggie wants me to be with: the well-bred country club type.

     From where I’m sitting, I can see Jake working behind the bar. We lock eyes, and he smiles at me. I smile back at him, and then look at Maggie again. “Yes. Actually, I am. His name is Jake, and he works here as well.”

     “Oh? What does he do here? Is he a server?”

     “Of sorts,” I answer hesitantly. “He’s a bartender, like me.”

     “Oh?”

     And there it is! Maggie’s famous “Oh?” combined with the not-so-subtle eyebrow lift. Now she’s judging Jake.

     “Don’t do that.”

     “What am I doing?”

     “It’s bad enough when you judge me. But don’t judge him, too. You don’t even know him.”

     “How can I? You’re not even going to introduce us. Are you?”

     I let out a breath, trying to control my nerves. “Because I know how you’re going to be. You’re going to look him up and down, size him up, and write him off within two seconds. I’ve seen it before. You have a knack for making the man that I’m with feel like garbage, and I’m not going to let you do that to Jake. I love him too much to put him through that.”

     She raises her brow again, and I begin to ramble.

     “Yes, Maggie. I love him, and he loves me. And he’s more than a bartender. He’s a photographer. The pictures he takes ... They’re beautiful. I mean, he the way he looks at things ... And yes, he can be guarded. But he’s also sweet ... and kind ... and ... He’s intelligent and well-read. He doesn’t even own a TV. He doesn’t just read books, Maggie. He devours them. And he’s the first man in my life who’s made me feel special and loved ... and important. So yes, I do love him.” I calm down a bit and find her staring at me. “Look. I don’t care if you approve of him. Far as I’m concerned, you lost the right to make judgment calls on my life. At least I found someone who loves me. Can you say the same thing?”

     This is a low blow. I can tell by the way Maggie looks down as she swirls her wine around. I’ve struck her where it hurts, and there’s a part of me that regrets it. But there’s also a point I want to make.

     “So, what’s her name?” She doesn’t want to answer, but I press on. “Are you ever going to leave him, Maggie? How long are you going to put up with it?”

     “It’s not that easy,” she argues. “If I leave him ...”

     I drop my angry tone and lean toward her, looking her in the eyes. “So that’s it, then. You’re willing to put up with his cheating and his lying, all so you won’t have to fend for yourself. You can get a job. Maggie. And don’t forget that you have a business degree. Why don’t you put it to use?”

     She seems to consider it for a moment as she swirls her wine some more. “It’s not that easy. I’m not like you, Lilah.” I blink at her, and she goes on. “What you did - leaving Baltimore and starting a new life - took courage. I’ve always loved that about you. You see what you want, and you go after it.”

     I lean back in my chair, a little shocked. Maggie sounds envious of me. Proud, even. Well, this conversation just took a turn. “If that’s how you feel, then why punish me for it? Why did you never reach out to me? I mean, I sent you so many cards and letters, and ... You just shut me out.” She sighs and gives me a look, and then it dawns on me. “You never got them. Did you?”

     Maggie shakes her head. “John must have destroyed them or hidden them from me.”

     “And what about the phone calls? I mean, I left so many messages on your machine.” She doesn’t say anything, but I already know the answer. “He erased them.” I shake my head in disgust. All this time, I thought they both hated me. Turns out, only one of them did. “Unbelievable. I guess he’s never forgiven me for telling you about Caroline.” I let out a shaky breath and then reach out for her hand. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I just ... I never knew. I had no idea.”

     She gently squeezes my hand and offers me a small, sad smile. “It’s all right. I understand.”

     I let go of her hand and lean back again, feeling as though a huge weight has been lifted. I find myself wondering what would have happened if I had just swallowed my pride and gone back to Baltimore. I know John would have hated my presence. But Maggie, at least, would have been welcoming. I wasted so much time mired in resentment.

     “Well, I’d better go back to the hotel. It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted.”

     I nod as we both stand up and push in our chairs. She pulls on her coat and gloves, giving me another sad smile. But before she can turn towards the door, I do something I honestly never thought I’d do again: I pull her into a hug. It’s a bit awkward at first, because I’ve caught her by surprise. But then she gives into it, and we both let out tired sighs. We part and look at each other for a moment, and then I glance over at Jake. He seems genuinely surprised by the turn of events, and I give him a smile and a nod. Then I move my eyes back to Maggie, coming to a decision.

     “Maggie, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

@anastacia-lynn

@mypsychoticlove

[beckyh2112]

AO3 First Lines

Tagged by @ragedaisy.

rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have fewer than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

Cody put in the passcode to his quarters, mind chasing itself in circles.

From you hold me up (till like a leaf we fall), my Foxatine mpreg. It opens with Cody receiving a KIA notice for Fox. Title is courtesy of Pux, and is at least 50% "I don't want to just call it 'the Foxatine mpreg' forever."

2. Wolffe woke in darkness.

From only the devil gets to dream, a followup to one_real_imonkey's Going Under, which is itself an AU of their Just keep your head above the rising tide, the sea will go out again. Delicious Coruscant Guard angst with the Wolfpack to the rescue.

Going Under is a bad end AU focused on Plo Koon, and only the devil gets to dream follows up with what happens to Wolffe.

3. Sidious hadn't expected to need to brace himself.

From there's teeth everywhere on you. Sidious point-of-view on a Fauxatine relationship. Also a chance for me to try out doing his pov and having him refer solely to himself as Sidious. I do think that's the most accurate way he thinks of himself, but it also leads to "Sidious's", which just doesn't sound good.

4. Street lamps were few and far between in this part of the Middle Ring, and Long Feng refused to draw attention to himself by carrying a light.

From One's For Sorrow, which is a repost of one of my AtLA fics from 2011. One of my favorite pieces from that era, tbh.

5. Thire isn't thinking when he goes in for a kiss on Fox's cheek after their morning meeting.

From Bug Report, a fic inspired by Bluestreak945's Beta Testing series, which is some of my favorite rape/non-con Foxatine smut. Heed the warnings; don't read if it's not your cuppa.

My fic isn't smut, and it doesn't even really mention anything from the series explicitly. Mostly it's me messing with the mind control aspect. It does contain clonecest, though, so again, don't read if it's not your cuppa.

6. "Thanks, Tango!" Sapnap yelled back over his shoulder as he threw himself out the door of the older fire demon's home, tail waving behind him.

From Error 404, my Dream SMP Big Bang fic. I like the fic, and I love the worldbuilding. But it is kinda mostly worldbuilding and focuses on Sapnap and Georgenotfound, so it didn't get much of a response.

7. Gabriel Reyes, crown prince of Argia, waited for the barbarians to arrive in the outer courtyard of Alcázar de Zaindari.

The Lion's Crown and the Crown of Suns! My one Overwatch fic, very much unfinished, completely AU. I love the world, kinda wish I still had the drive to get farther with it. Just completely lost steam on it, and I no longer have much of an interest in Overwatch.

Also, I do not want to sort out Jesse McCree vs. Cole Cassidy.

8. In the Shadow Isles, there was no square inch of land that didn't hold someone's remains.

From All's Hell That Ends Well, a League of Legends fic based on Twisted Fate's Underworld skin.

Posted in 2015; there is a massive gap in my fic-writing if you pay attention to posting dates. This, the two crowns in 2017, then the DSMP Big Bang in 2021.

9. The ground rumbled.

From There's Now War in Ba Sing Se. I don't remember if this is a repost, or if I wrote it and posted it to both FF.Net and AO3. Either way, AtLA OC fic with mine and Pux's characters.

10. Bucky and Steve used to joke over his words. "She's a moll who likes HG Wells."

From Hey There, Heartbreaker, which was inspired by @suzukiblu's we are not history yet; we are happening now. Darcy/Bucky soulmate AU. I like her fic much better than mine, but I don't think mine is bad per se. It's just. There.

Tagging @one-real-imonkey, @darkpuck, @suzukiblu, @slackeremeritus, @weirdlet, and anyone else who feels like doing it.

[bujorulgalben]

[ was anica expecting anyone? no? well, it seems that slavko has been making good use of that spare key, then. when she walks in, the smell ought to be the first thing she notices—it’s a cacophony of scents—from baking to cooking and barbecuing, it seems that he’s run the whole gamut of food here, hasn’t he? if anica goes to the table, she’ll see the result of slavko’s labor—there’s goulash (heavy on the paprika, naturally), a plateful of sarma, a pile of cevapi ready to be eaten on their own or with ajvar and somun from the basket sitting there. there’s also a full-sized burek with cheese, but if anica wants more, then slavko has afforded a little dish of feta for that purpose. there’s his signature walnut cake and baklava—slavko hasn’t spared any element of this spread! there’s both coffee in a džezva waiting to be poured and a bottle of plum rakija sitting there, but the style of the bottle with its hand-painted apples on the front indicate that this is one that slavko has made himself. sitting further down is a bottle of red wine, montenegrin, right next to the all-important koljivo and an intricately baked kolač, complete with flourishes, crosses, and braiding; across the top it has the signature serbian square of cyrillic Cs. ]

[ at the center of the table is a tall, beeswax candle which looks as though it’s been burning for several hours now, stamped with the image of who looks to be saint sava. there’s an icon to match, as well as a small dish of what is presumably holy water, ready to bless the house. there’s also a jar of wheat seeds, ready to be thrown. and, of course, slavko is there—it seems that he’s been waiting for her! when he catches sight of anica, a tender smile curls over his face. he tucks the bottle of wine under his arm and makes his way over to her, hiding his free hand in her hair and sparing her three kisses—one on each cheek and, for her, the third on the lips. he murmurs: ]

Srećna Slava domaćine, Anamaria. You know… how important Slava is to me. Yes? And… you’re important to me, too. Of course. But you know that, too, so— [ he pauses. swallows. expressing emotions is hard, slavko, it’s okay! after a deep breath he continues. ] So, I thought. That we could celebrate together… but I need your help. For this. [ he snakes his arm around her waist and walks back over to the table, handing her the bottle of wine. ] Would you do the honor of… pouring this over the kolač? For me?

[ /if anyone were to cross the threshold into anica's home at this time, they'd do so and find it empty. well, 'empty'. iulia hadn't moved past the top stair when hearing fumbling with keys at the door, only to not recognise the footfall, the smell of who walked in next. she stared, and then went back to bed.

that little cloud of a cat returned to her post when someone else unlocks their way in. anica's face is fresh and flushed; nose and ears pinched by the cold, hair thrown about by wind chill. one move, as swift as the wind, and her long coat is whipped off. the knot holding her headscarf in place fidgeted into coming loose. she barely had enough time to catch her breath and warm herself, before she notices the sweet and savoury smells of cooking reach her. it would be so welcoming if it weren't for the fact that anica hadn't been cooking this morning... or had she?

anica's coat never makes it to the rack before it drops unceremoniously, into a heap on the floor, and she narrowly avoids tripping over her boots in scrambling through the open arches to the kitchen. iulia goes back to bed, again.

that’s when anica realised she couldn’t even remember putting anything in the oven!  what smells of cooking will naturally turn to burning! some of those smells - while delicious - are ones she can’t quite put her finger on. ones she hadn’t thought to grace her home with. when she catches herself at the arch leading into the kitchen, she is even more confused! eyes frantically dart around the ensemble. laboured breath is heaved in and out of her chest, and anica only straightens herself in seeing the candle and kolač. it’s instinct. it is also instinct that has anica crossing herself! she splutters on her breath, as taking stock of everything on the table just leads her to get more and more baffled. it begins to get overwhelming; like a disturbingly vivid illusion. if she didn’t make all of this - and anica is certain she didn’t - then who did? no one cooks for her in her own kitchen! no one!

so when she hears the creak of slavko’s chair, as he stands, there’s a sharp gasp and anica’s nails dig into the doorway. the relief, the shock, the honour of hosting this, putting all of the pieces together, that smile... it all keeps her quiet. choked up, rather, and the tears are already welling up in her eyes.

with some stumbling in her step, she slumps into slavko. there’s a giggle in returning the kisses: ] Oh, Slava! Lord, help me, I thought my old heart was about to stop! I... I cannot believe this! Even if... well, ‘ Gde je slava, tu je Srbin’, yes? Srećna slava! [ /she takes his face into her hands, and beams. ] Darling, oh, my darling. This looks incredible, yes! I... oh, Lord, I was not expecting this. No! Not at all! Not for Slava, not for- I- [ /dwelling on that thought, again, of never having such a spread prepared by anyone but her, had her lower lip wobbling. don’t you dare cry, don’t you dare ruin this for him! anica tried biting in place, struggles, and finds the introduction of the wine bottle a welcome distraction.]

Ah! Yes, yes, of course! Okay, so, it has been a while since I attended a Slava feast, hm? This... goes on the kolač... yes? Did you make this? Oh, sweetheart, it is gorgeous! You are... you are so wonderful. I would be honoured, so very honoured! Yes! I... hah, I will need some wine after such a surprise! Hah!

[halfahelix]

watch me sob over the fact that Adrien had to watch his love die in front of him for a month. the pain he's had to go through. it's like being immortal and watching your lover die. thousands of times.

I can't even imagine

[donutloverxo]

His queen

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Note - An anon asked for an au sequel to first night with no stucky but this can be read as a one shot. Thanks to lizzygal(link to ao3) for her advice on this! This is written for @sweetlyscared's 1k angst challenge! Congrats boo! I used the prompt 'Do you love her?' Although this is hardly angsty but it's as angsty as someone as soft as me can get🥺 Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Summary - Married life with Steve was amazing (although with a few bumps in the way) until you discovered a heartbreaking secret.

Warnings - explicit sexual content, painful sex, innocent naive insecure reader, dub con/noncon, soft dark Steve, jealous Steve, ooc villain Sharon, like a little breeding kink, some angst.

Pairing - soft dark king!Steve x reader

Word count - 5.3k

Steve jolted when your palm hit him across his face, his hand circled around your wrist, ready to fight whatever it was that slapped him off, his grip loosening when he realised it was just you. You wiggled your hand away from his grip, mumbling incoherently before turning away from him, so that he could only see the silhouette of your nude back in the dim light.

Although he had been with a handful of women, he never had to share a bed with one. He didn’t think he’d ever have to, he was born in royalty, raised to be a king. While he liked having your soft warm body in his arms, he maybe could live without your hands slapping him, or both your legs over his thighs and hips.

It was customary for wives to have their own chambers after the honeymoon period was over. And with a heavy heart he had sent you to your own chambers, he made sure you were treated to the best luxuries possible.

But he found himself missing your presence soon enough. Your legs over his, you annoying him for attention whenever he was working, the way you hummed a song in your head, how you often clumsily bumped into things, your sweet beautiful voice, your scent, everything about you.

So he went to your room, told you that you were to live with him in his chambers from then on. You were hesitant at first, but didn’t say no to him.

You could never deny him anything. He loved that about you. How subservient you were despite being so fiery.

He was grateful to have made you move in, in times like these, when his cock was hard and achingly pressed against your thigh, he had you right where he wanted you.

He softly called out your name, he’d rather have you awake for this. He loved listening to the sweet sounds he could pull out of you. When you didn’t so much as stir he decided he would just have to wake you up another way.

Pushing your legs off his, spreading them apart to make room for him as he hovered over you, pressing soft kisses, rubbing his beard against your skin, he made his way down to his destination, he was parched for your nectar.

He kissed your petal, your cunt already oozing with need, your body would always want him even if you weren’t awake. He frowned when you didn’t move at all. He had been a bit too rough with you that night, exhausting you, making you pass out as soon as he was done, but he was growing more and more impatient.

Scraping his teeth over your clit, he bit it ever so lightly as you yelped awake.

“Oh!” you gasped when you looked down to find the king between your legs.

Swallowing a lump, because this was still so very strange to you. Your mother had told you how a man and woman make love before your wedding, but she never mentioned anything like this.

From your knowledge the king putting his mouth there wouldn’t result in you getting pregnant. But it did bring you great pleasure, to the point where it was maddening.

Sometimes it was the only thing on your mind.

It was as if you were addicted to it.

“My king...” you squirmed when you felt him push his fingers inside you, “I’m so tired... I have court tomorrow...” How he managed to do all his duties and still have you at least thrice everyday was beyond you.

“You don’t have to go. You’re the queen, the future mother of my children, you deserve a day off. Besides I do work you a bit too hard, don’t I?” he asked before plunging his tongue into your heat.

“Huh? No... I’m glad to be serving you...” And you had yet to give him any heirs.

It wasn’t long before you released all over his mouth, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard coated with your slick as he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“You can stay in bed all day tomorrow. That way you’ll be strong and ready by the time I’m back.” He told you before capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, as you tasted yourself on his mouth.

Turns out a day off was everything that you had needed. You were born a princess, albeit of a kingdom standing on its last legs, you were the youngest of six sisters, your prospects weren’t all that great.

Your mother told you that you’d be lucky to get a rich lord, let alone a Duke or a prince. A King was out of the question. She taught you how to handle a household, she never could’ve prepared you for court or to be a queen. You always dreamt of marrying for love. Of running away after falling for a stable boy and living far away and being free.

But you married the King of the most prestigious kingdom in the whole world. While you had grown to love Steven, you didn’t love all the responsibilities that were thrusted upon you so suddenly, you didn’t like how you were always under scrutiny. Every move you made was watched and judged by others. You still couldn’t believe your life sometimes.

So it was nice to have a day to yourself. You had slept in till late in the morning, having your breakfast in bed before taking a leisurely bath and then decided to go for a walk in the garden just before the sunset before you’d have to go back up and have dinner with your husband before having to perform your wifely duties.

“Your grace,” you smiled upon hearing the familiar voice, turning around to see Lady Sharon approaching you.

You hadn’t seen her in over a month. She had been so kind to assist you and help you get acclimated to your duties, you’d always be grateful to her.

“I thought you were under the weather,” she frowned. It was the excuse you had given to skip court with your ladies that day. Which wasn’t a complete lie. You were a little sore between your legs. But a warm bath had fixed that.

“I’m feeling quite better,” you said, standing upright, a dignified smile on your face--formal and curt.

Always be formal and curt with everyone. Your instinct was to hug her when you saw her after her month long trip, like you would to any of your sisters or friends, but you must always act like a queen since you were one.

“How was your trip?” you asked her as she hooked her arm in yours so you could both resume walking.

“It went alright. Mama wants to marry me off to the Duke Stark, the trip was some sort of matchmaking ploy,” she snorted.

“What’s wrong with Stark? He seems so charming.” You remember meeting him at your coronation ceremony. Where he had got you beautiful pearls from an exotic country.

“He maybe charming, but at the end of the day - he’s manwhore.”

You gasped incredulously, your hand over your mouth as you looked around to make sure your maids didn’t hear you, “Lady Sharon,” you chastised her, “We can’t use that sort of language.”

“Forgive me, your grace,” she apologized, “I often forget how naive you are.”

“What? Naive?” you huffed. “Not using such filthy language hardly makes me naive.”

“Live a little, all royals are debauched in one way or another. I’m surprised to see just how much of a square you are.”

“Is... is being a square a bad thing?” You wanted to know. You never thought of yourself as a conformist, in fact your mother used to tell you you’ll die an old maid if you didn’t start acting more like a lady and less like a spoilt brat.

“Sometimes it is...” she pondered. “Well, for instance, being a square in bed might be boring for some men.”

“What?” you gasped again. Tightening your grip on her arm and walking at a faster pace to put some distance between you and your maids, “Give us a minute,” you told them.

“Lady Sharon,” you looked into her blue eyes, much like your husbands but a little darker, “Have you ever been with a man?”

“I have,” she shrugged. “Just the one. He was my true love.”

“Bu – but you aren’t married.” You frowned.

“So?”

“So, how can you make love to anyone if you aren’t married...” Your mother had told you that making love only ever happened between a man and his wife.

“I... you do know what making love entails right? This is what I meant when I said you were too much of a square,” she chuckled.

“Don’t... don’t make fun of me...” you pouted.

“I’m sorry, your grace, it’s just,” she put a hand over her mouth as she cleared her throat, “Really funny. Two people, who aren’t married, can make love. Being married is good but not a requirement.”

“I suppose that makes sense, me and his majesty could do it even if we weren’t married...”

“Is he happy with you?” she wanted to know.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just, you don’t know much about physical relations, and there needs to be a certain level of knowledge and experience for it to be good at it.”

“Do you think he is unsatisfied with me?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she shrugged. “Does he seem unsatisfied?”

He was always asking for it. Which you preferred, because you’d die of embarrassment if you ever had to initiate it. You couldn’t go for too long without it either. He had went on a hunting trip for just a couple of days and you wanted to jump on him and keep him in your bed as soon as you saw him.

Why would he ask for it again and again if he was satisfied?

“I’m not sure... since you know so much about it would you give me some advice?”

“My, I would’ve thought you’d call me a harlot or a whore instead you’re asking for advice...” she smirked.

“Oh, I would never. That is what my mother would say, probably, but you’re my friend. Besides, I would want to make love to Steve even if we weren’t married, and if he was a stable boy.”

“A stable boy?” she quirked a blonde brow.

“Yes! And I would be me, a princess. It’s just a silly dream I used to have,” you shrugged. “What happened to your love? The one you lost?”

“He got married to someone else,” she stated. And although she was firm and sophisticated as always, you could hear his voice wavering and how much pain she was in.

“Oh my... I am so sorry, Sharon,” you said, engulfing her in a hug to comfort her, now that you do actually love someone, now that you know what loving someone deeply means, how overwhelming it can be, you couldn’t even imagine what losing that love would feel like. “You’ll find someone better.”

“There is no one better, your grace. But I’ll give you some advice,” she pulled away from you, putting some distance between you both, “You have to pay special attention to his balls. Many ladies tend to forget them.”

“Ball...? Like toys? I don’t believe he has any.”

“Your grace,” she rolled her eyes as she snickered, “He does have them. That is where your children will come from.”

“Um... what? Wouldn’t they come from...” you looked down, to the place between your legs. That’s where kids come from. That’s what you had been told.

“Well, yes, that is where they will pop out of. But the balls... the ones right behind his manhood, that’s where his seed comes from.”

“Oh...” you nodded as you realised what she was talking about. “So... what about the... balls?”

“Just pay special attention to them. He would like that. Suck on them, tug on them... but gently!” she chuckled as she realised she would have to talk down to you since you were so inexperienced.

“Oh... alright... anything else I can do?”

“Try to be more... active... instead of just sitting there and taking it you know?”

“Alright. I think I get the gist of it.”

“You ready for me, petal?” Steven asked as he looked down at you, naked and vulnerable, so beautiful and all his. He nudged his cock against your intimate lips, prodding at your entrance as he awaited your answer. He knew he could be too much for you sometimes, he was trying to do better. So he could make you love him at least half of as much as he loves you.

“Mm-hm... but um...” you trailed off. Not exactly knowing how you would go about asking to suck his balls.

“What?”

“I was just wondering if... I could... do that...” you fluttered your lashes, that usually got you whatever you wanted from him.

“And what is ‘that’?”

“You know... when you make me put my mouth on you...”

He didn’t usually make you use your mouth.

Most of the times Steven had a strict unofficial schedule he followed when it came to lovemaking. He wasn’t someone who liked or embraced change, he was always strategic, as a king and as your husband.

He’d kiss you till you were out of breath, then your neck, and then your breasts, he’d spend a long amount of time there, maybe because you liked that the most probably. And then he’d use his fingers to work you up, tasting you, eating you out and drinking your nectar.

That drove you mad, till you were on the brink of insanity.

You loved it as much as you hated it. You had never felt so out of control in your entire life. Not even when your parents told you they were going to marry you off to a kingdom far away, to a man you had never even met before.

Steven would complain that you thrashed and moved around too much, although he would encourage you to make all the noise that you wished. He pinned you down by your hips. Sometimes he’d make you make once, twice, thrice, it depended on how desperate he was to get his own release.

And then he’d have you on your back. Whispering the filthiest things to you as he fucked you, filled you up with his seed.

He’d hold you close to him, kissing your hair, kissing your cheeks and touching your ever so intimately. That was when you were the most clingy, you’d hold on so tightly to him. You were more vulnerable than usual. You would tell him about how, even though you love being the queen and his wife, it was so new and overwhelming, how you miss your family and your old life. How things had changed and so drastically. He’d always tell you that it would all be okay. That he would take care of you and never let anything bad ever happen to you.

Then he’d have you on your hands and knees. He told you he liked looking at your behind and spanking it.

After that you’d both fall asleep. Sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and nudge you awake to love you some more. But he rarely ever made you suck him off.

“You wanna suck my cock?” he smirked as you meekly nodded. “Go right ahead then, petal. It’s all yours now, you don’t have to ask,” he told you as he sat up on his knees.

You looked at his cock. Hard and standing tall and proud up against his stomach. You now knew that being aroused made him hard and much much bigger. Maybe that’s why it’s often such a tasking job to take him--often leaving your cunt so sore.

Soft dark golden hair, much like that of his beard, and then you noticed them. His twin balls.

You took a deep breath as you took him in your mouth, suckling on his head, following your instincts and what he had taught you.

Your hand coming up and cupping his balls, massaging them gently in your hand. You stopped when you felt him go stiff.

Pulling his cock out of your mouth you looked up at him. “Did I do something wrong?” as you wiped your spittle and his preejaculate off your mouth.

“No,” he shook his head. It wasn’t often that he was stunned. Not ever really. But you, taking that kind of initiative, to touch him without him asking for you to, did shock him just a little.

He held onto the back of your head, bringing his balls just next to your mouth, against your soft lips, “Suck on them,” he told you.

You suckled at one, working the other one with your hand as he pulled at the roots of your head.

“Fuck! Stop!” he heaved, pulling you away, “I have to save it for your beautiful cunt, my queen,” he told you as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before he pushed you back down on the mattress.

Swiftly entering you, you were still as tight as the night of your wedding, which meant he had to be patient while fucking you, and he tried. He really did. But he was not a patient man. Especially not when you had just put your mouth on him and worked your magic in mere seconds.

He put most of his weight on you as he slowly pushed in and out of you, your face scrunched up in pleasure as you dug your nails into his shoulders.

With your pussy hugging him so well, almost as if it was made for him, as if you were made by the gods just for him.

“What have you done to me?” he rasped, touching his damp forehead to yours. You had weaved some sort of magic on him, making him crazy for you. Now it was hard to tell where he ended and you began.

You pressed a hand against your mouth to stop from giggling or making any sort of noise. Resting your back against the cool surface of the throne. You chose the back of the throne in the court as your place of hiding. Maybe it wasn’t the most strategic ploy but you were playing against a six year old.

Lila Barton had asked to play hide and seek with you. Only to receive a scolding from her nanny--to not bother the queen with such trivial matters.

It was as if you were reliving your childhood. You always felt you were made to grow up and be a lady too fast. With your mother and sisters telling you how important it was to act mature and be a lady, or you wouldn’t be able to marry well. Or marry at all.

So you jumped at the first opportunity to play with the kid. Making her count to twenty before looking for a place to hide. You had to go get your lessons for sewing so you didn’t have a lot of time, you hoped she would find you soon.

“But you’re not even considering it!”

You perked up when you heard the familiar voice, it was Lady Sharon! You had to thank her for all her advice, things had been going great with Steven ever since you listened to her. He had been opening up to you as well, although he was still as voracious in his love making. If anything... he wanted you even more now. Which you didn’t think could even be possible.

But some part of you absolutely loved it. And you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You peaked out to see her, to maybe call her to join you on the floor, hiding behind the large throne. You frowned when you saw that she was holding onto Steven’s arm, looking up at him with a certain desperation in her eyes.

“There is nothing to consider. I’m a married man. It would be adultery – a crime,” he stated.

“Bu – but you promised, you told me you didn’t love her. You said you didn’t have any other choice. I’m not asking you to leave her for me, I know that’s not possible. I’m not a fucking idiot like her.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth again to keep your sobs in, tears streaming down your face as you watched your husband, and his lover, have a lovers quarrel.

You couldn’t hear any more of it. Couldn’t bear it breaking your heart anymore than it already had. You quickly got up, fleeing out of the room by the back entrance - which the servants often used.

“You watch your mouth when you speak of the queen,” he yanked his arm free of her, putting some distance between himself and her, “I didn’t make any promises like that. I told you I intended to be faithful to her even if I didn’t love her.”

He knew it was a mistake to ever get involved with Sharon. He never wanted to be a womanizer. But he had his needs. He didn’t think she would become so obsessed with him. He had broken off their short fling as soon as he became betrothed to you.

He felt responsible for all the rumours about him and her and her ruined reputation. So he had arranged for her to marry his good friend Stark but she had her mind set on him.

“I like the queen. She’s a good friend of mine. I don’t intend to replace her,” she explained. She had no interest in being a queen and having such tedious and boring responsibilities anyway—the power and the status that came along with it just wasn’t worth the hassle. She pitied you and how you just weren’t made for the job.

“But she can’t satisfy you, she can’t give you what you need-- What I can give you,” Being the Kings mistress would probably be better than being a Duchess and marrying some boring old man.

“Won’t you even think about it?”

“No I won’t. And you are to never speak of this again,” he warned her.

“Your grace...” Lydia was completely confused. Standing there with your dress in her hands as you frantically stuffed your clothes in a chest.

She had never seen two people as in love as you and the king. When she first met you, it didn’t seem as if you and Steven would make a good couple. She assumed your marriage would be like any other she had seen. Cold and distant.

Steve had never been smitten with a woman, she always felt there maybe something wrong with him. But he had grown so fond of you in such a short time. Even going as far as asking you to live with him in his chambers. Having the king around often made her duties to you challenging. But she was happy for you.

“I don’t understand. What wrong? Why do you want to leave so suddenly.” Does the king approve of your sudden departure? If not would she get in trouble for it?

“He lied to me,” you sobbed. “I thought--” you let out a hiccup.

“Calm down,” she said as she rubbed your forearms. She wasn’t afraid to touch you in such friendly ways, you weren’t as stuck up as most royals.

You took a deep breath as you tried to explain to your handmaiden why you both had to leave as soon as possible. Before Steven gets back. You’ll move all your things to the room you were supposed to live in and just lock him out of your chambers.

“I would’ve been fine living on my own. Just being a wife and a queen. But he made me believe... that we could be more. That he loved me. It’s not true,” you shook your head. “He lied. He has another lover.”

“Oh,” she let out. She was disappointed on your behalf but not surprised. It would be strange if the king didn’t have any other lovers. “I’m sorry, your grace.”

“I’ll be fine,” you sniffled. “This'll be a good lesson for me. My mother always told me I have my head in the clouds and should live in reality. That’ll teach me to dream.”

It was almost funny for her to watch you babble nonsense, stable boys, princesses and backstabbing friends, take a break to cry your heart out and then resume packing and trying to order all the other servants.

“What’s going on here?”

Everyone stopped moving as soon as they heard the kings voice. He of course looked at the Lydia for an explanation.

“The queen wants us to...”

“I’m moving back to my old chambers,” you briskly walked to him, standing right in front of him, looking him in the eye. He was much taller than you, making you crane your neck to actually get a good look at him, but you still tried to look intimidating and confrontational.

“Why?” he frowned. “Put everything back just as it was,” he ordered everyone.

“No!” you stomped your foot, looking very much like an indignant child who had his toy taken away, than a queen, “Don’t! We’re moving!” But of course nobody would listen to you over Steven. Not just because he was their king, but also because he was much more intimidating than you.

“Stop it!” he reprimanded you. “Whatever troubles you may have, we can sort them out together, but you are not moving back. And that’s the end of that.”

“No! I’m leaving! I’d like to see you try to stop me!” You hmphed. Pushing past him and making way for the door. You didn’t need to take your things with you now, you could just send for them later.

You screamed bloody murder when you felt Stevens arm around your stomach, as he threw you over his shoulder in the blink of an eye, “HELP!!” You yelled at the guards and your maids, who didn’t want to get involved, quickly scurrying out of the room.

“Ring the bell if you need anything, your grace,” Lydia said on her way out to you before she closed the door. It didn’t seem as if the king intended to do any real harm to you so she wasn’t that worried about you.

You kept on hitting his back, thrashing around his hold to break free, “Put me down!”

He threw you on your marital bed, his fingers making quick work of ridding him of his clothes so he could show you how he was just never going to let you go.

“Why do you even care? If I leave or not? You can just call for your lover!”

“My lover?” he frowned as he tried to push your skirts up your legs, which was proving to be a difficult task. Maybe he should’ve asked the maids to undress you before making them leave.

“Do you love her?” you asked, looking up at him and stopping your futile resistance for a few moments, your lips wobbly as you felt your vision blue with tears. You were born a princess, living a relatively sheltered life, never knowing pain so unbearable. As if you would never recover from this, you would never be the same.

You would never believe in love again.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, petal,” he said, getting frustrated with all the buttons and ties on your dress and ripping your skirt apart. Which he regretted, just a little because you started crying again.

“No! I like this dress.”

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you a hundred more.” He said as he hovered over you, diving in to kiss your beautiful lips and make you stop saying such preposterous things.

You sniffled as you tried to push him away, making him gather your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head.

“Stop it,” he told you. “When will you understand that you belong to me now? If I say you have to live with me, here, then that’s what you’ll do.”

“I’m not your slave,” you retorted as you tried to wiggle your hands out of his grip.

“Stop listening to rumors! There are plenty going around. I do not have a lover.”

“No. I saw it with my own eyes. You and Lady Sharon. Just this afternoon.”

“What did you see?”

“I... she said she was your lover...?” You tried to think of what exactly had been said between them. But you couldn’t remember. You were blinded by your fury and your sorrow.

“We used to be lovers, before you and I ever met, but not anymore. I could never think of another, I could never love anyone else,” he said softly as he touched your cheek with his other hand, “You want to know why?”

“Why?” you pouted, feeling a little stupid now.

“Because you’ve ruined me, my queen. You’ve made me a lovesick fool. I could never love anyone else the way I love you. Do you want to know how much I love you?” he asked as you meekly nodded.

Pulling his cock out of breaches, he pushed your skirts up, exposing your thighs to him, he rubbed his cock along the slick of your pussy.

“Did fighting with me make you wet, my queen?” he asked, making you avert your gaze.

“I...” it was the way he had simply thrown you around, how he just wouldn’t let you leave, “Maybe...”

“Hm, don’t start picking fights with me for no reason though. My poor heart won’t be able to bear it,” he cooed as he kissed your cheeks, wet from your tears. “You look beautiful when you cry, love, but I only want you crying when I’m fucking you, you understand?”

“Yes...”

He pushed inside you, you were tighter than usual, it was difficult to even properly enter you. The pain of it of course made you cry again. You sobbed into the crook of his neck as he shushed you.

“You feel my love, darling,” he asked as he was buried to the hilt inside you, “I’ll give you a child soon enough. Then you’ll have a living breathing proof of it,” he whispered in your ear as he started steadily moving, making sure that he won’t hurt you.

“I wish... I was your one and only... like you are mine,” you sniffled as you held on to him, soon it is wasn’t hurting as much, it was a little uncomfortable but you could bear through it.

“You are my one and only. You’re the only woman I have ever loved. Do you love me, petal?”

He looked down at you, wanting you to say it. He needed you to love him, for you to say it to him, he needed to know you weren’t here just because you were scared of him.

“I love you, Steve,” you sniffled, rubbing your runny nose with the back of your hand.

He smiled at you, his hand trailing down both your bodies as he twisted your pearl between his fingers.

“It’s okay... it’s okay...” He kept telling you as you screamed at the top of your lungs, your climax making your mind and your vision fuzzy.

“I’m going to fill you up, petal,” he told you as he finished inside you, staying inside you for a long while after he was done just to make sure you knew how he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him.

[nightowlfandom]

Noctis Lucis Caelum- Arguments and Arrangements

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...

"FUCK YOU"

"When and where, toots?"

"Why I ought to-" you approached Noctis with your gun cocked and ready to shoot the smug grin off his face. It was Prompto’s fault for giving you his lucky pistol for your birthday. 

Gladiolus had you by the waist. Holding you on his lap. He drug you to the other side of the hotel room while Ignis reprimanded Noctis for bullying you again.

"Hey hey-"  Cindy stopped you dead in your tracks by jumping between the two of you. "No fightin' on the property!" She snatched the firearm out of your hand, causing you to growl in sheer annoyance. “You’re gonna have to pay for this place, y’know?”

"Tell her to chill out!"

"Tell him to stop messing with me!" You snapped. Noctis LOVED getting under your skin for some odd unknown reason. It was like he got off on pissing you off every chance he got. And trust, he used EVERY CHANCE HE GOT.

"Noct, why can't ya just leave Y/N be for once?" Cindy, who seemed to be on your side shook her head. 

"It's either you two fight it out, or fuck it out! Pick one!" Prompto voice his opinion.

"PROMPTO!!" You said in pure shock. You didn't think they'd take it that far, not to mention Noctis was the LAST person you'd want to see you naked...under him...doing things...with him. The thought was just absurd! You yanked yourself out of Gladio’s grip. 

“Excuse me?!”

“Pardon me!?”

"I've had it with you two arguing!" She looked between you and Noctis. "We’re gonna step out and wrassle up some dinner for us all. Then maybe search for a few parts and if the two of you haven't made up by the time I come back, y'all are walking everywhere from now on, ya hear me?". Without giving you time to disagree or even answer, she threw open the door and stepped out, the other boys following behind.

“Y/N, Noctis. I recommended following Cindy’s instructions...or else.” his glare lingered on your both. 

"They took our shit didn't they?" You glowered. You noticed your weapon was gone and Noctis’s sword was missing.

"Yep." Noctis didn't sound too happy either.

"So were basically fuckin’ trapped." you asked.

"Seems so." he replied.

"Whatever." you huffed walking over to the couch seat. "I'll wait."

"Didn't you hear her? She said-"

"I know what she said." You rolled your eyes. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna listen. We have nothing to say to each other." You crossed your arms, leaning back. “Unless you got something to tell me, Caelum.”

"..." Noct didn't respond. He just walked over to his spot on the bed, far from you. Fine by you, you didn't want to be near that asshole anyways.

A good few minutes passed in complete silence. You were twiddling your thumbs while Noctis was playing with his phone. You took the time to look over at him. His black, ravenette hair reflected the slowly setting sun that peered through the window. You could make out the curve of his jaw as he clenched and unclenched. He was thinking about something. The way he bit his lip in concentration for whatever he was doing was almost-

"You gonna sit there and stare at me all day or what?" You snapped out of your daze and finally realized Noctis was staring at you. Well, he was glaring. Same thing.

"Sorry." You instantly looked away. When were they gonna be back already?

"Why do you hate me anyways." Noctis swung his feet around and twisted his body until he was facing you. "Honestly."

"Because you hated me first." You scoffed, refusing to look back at him. "I seem to remember you holding a certain disdain for me." You laughed harshly. "How quickly we forget, Prince Jackass."

"Well you know me." He shrugged smirking. "I don't remember stuff too good." He got up and maneuvered over to you.. He sat down next to you. He was hunched over, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Obviously." You cracked a smile. "Remember when we first met? Threw me right into a daemon's grasp?"

"Yeah." He laughed bitterly. "You used a pen to cut yourself free then made a whole scene."

"You liar!"

"I am not! You chased me up the street."

"Well I didn't have a weapon of my own!" You replied. "Be honest, it was impressive."

"You got me." He shook his head. "Never met a girl who could turn a regular old pen into a weapon."

"You should meet my family." You chuckled. “They’re the crazy ones.”

"I'll pass." He seemed to be opening up because he relaxed more, leaning back in the seat. "So...I know Cindy likes to take her time. What are we gonna do until then?"

"Good question." You said, standing up. Since you really didn't take note of how slippery the floors were, you lost your footing, getting ready to fall back down. "Ack!"

"Woah, hey!" Noctis wrapped an arm around your waist. You landed right on his lap, thanks to him moving over in time. "What was that?"

"Sorry. I guess I wasn't-" it was only then you noticed how close to his face you were. "Paying attention." You finished quietly.

Noctis narrowed his eyes, burning his gaze into your own. His eyes darted around, scanning every detail of your face. Without thinking, you slowly moved your hand to brush his cheek with your knuckles. Honestly, a few hours ago, you would have wanted to punch his square in his face. Now, you weren't so sure what you wanted to do now.

Noctis's tongue darted out to lick his lips, which did all sorts of things to you. Whether they were good or bad was a debate to be had. He must have been thinking the same thing. "You're really close, you know that?"

"...Yeah." you replied breathlessly. "Guess I'm a bit clumsy." Despite it sounding like you were about to get off, you relaxed into his touch. "Someone could be back any minute."

"Yeah." He showed no signs of letting you get up. Instead, his hand crawled under your shirt, up your back. You leaned down and partially surprised him with a sudden kiss. Despite his surprise, he returned the kiss whole heartedly. He silently moaned into your mouth, wasting no time in introducing his tongue to yours.

Noctis laid back on the couch, taking you with him. His began exploring your body, and damn! You had a sexy body. He always wondered why you insisted on your ‘uniform’ being the way it was, but that body? He wasn’t gonna fucking complain. He loved seeing you in shorts with those garters that double as a place to store your weapons.

Shit, he was a good kisser. It was about time he used his mouth for something other than talking shit. “Shit, Y/N. Why didn’t we think of this before?”

“Don’t know-.” you moaned, feeling his hands reach for the zipper of your jacket. 

“Damnit, Y/N!” he groaned. “Let me get on top of you.” he urged, moving you around so he was hovering over you. You stared up at Noctis who was fumbling with your belt.

Noctis covered your mouth with his again. “Noctis, someone could walk in.”

“I don’t care.” he glowered, kissing down your neck. He discarded your jacket. “Shit, you’re so hot. Your skin feels like....the sun.” he breathed out. “Shit I’m hard already.” he grunted. “and we’ve only kissed.”

“Are we really doing this right now?” you looked up as Noctis ripped his shirt from his body. “Ignis is gonna kill you-”

“Fuck that tool.” he growled. “Or maybe I should fuck you instead.” he crashed his mouth over yours again. You moaned wantonly into his mouth. 

You felt him pull down your pants, take off your garters and panties with them. “Take em off.”

 You fumbled with his belt too, in a desperation to undress him as well.

“Tell me, Y/N...you don’t think this is the only time we’re gonna do this are you?”

“I’d be dumb to assume.” you whimpered. 

“Good girl, this little arrangement of ours is good...”

....

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Date With the Side Characters is Going Terribly and Then it Starts to Rain

Brothers ver.

Diavolo

It was a tragic truth that the poor Crown Prince didn’t get to go out and have fun very often, but he had managed to get a singular day off! He of course was going to spend it with the future monarch-consort of the Devildom!

Diavolo had a whole list written out that was full of fun cliche date activities that he wanted to try, and it was also full of stuff MC said they wanted to do, so the date was going to be completely perfect.

As Diavolo and MC walked hand in hand to Madame Scream’s, they both took notice to the fact that literally every single demon in the vicinity was staring at the two of them.

The crown prince laughed it off, saying that MC looked so positively radiant that everyone couldn’t help but stop and look. MC laughed and leaned their head against Dia’s arm, but both of them knew full well that everyone was really staring at Diavolo.

To be fair, wouldn’t you stare if the most powerful person in the entire realm walked by holding hands with a pathetic little human?

They got to Madame Scream’s, got their sweets, then Diavolo got a phone call. It was Lucifer frantically explaining that the RAD gym was on fire and he needed to run everything by Diavolo before he could do anything about it.

That ate up about fifteen minutes and the desserts ended up getting cold… Diavolo tried to make light of it as the two finally got to eat their chocolate chip cookies.

“So apparently one student thought it would be a good idea to set a firework off inside, you know I encourage having fun at school but maybe they should have set this off outside.” “Maybe..?”

Next it was time for a romantic walk on the beach! That would have gone better if Diavolo remembered it was giant-crab season. As cool as it was to watch Diavolo hammer-throw an eight foot tall crab into the ocean it left MC’s ankles vulnerable to get pinched by regular sized crabs.

And maybe they both should have wore appropriate shoes… they were sinking into the sand and it was getting into their shoes…

Okay, so the beach didn’t work out, Diavolo had plenty of other ideas! They just had to- wait he was getting another call.

Half an hour later, Diavolo was finally able to hang up and gave MC an apologetic look. He said that he needed to cut the date short and go to an unavoidable meeting…

Oh well, at least this date couldn’t get any-

A loud crack of thunder caused Diavolo to nearly drop his phone in surprise. Oh… oh no… not rain…

Large droplets of water pelted the pair as they waited for Barbatos to pick them up. Diavolo slowly lifted up his arm and shielded MC from the rain as best he could. Well… this outfit was ruined, the least he could do was try and save MC’s…

“Well…” Diavolo tentatively began. “I heard getting caught in the rain is supposed to be romantic..?”

MC only sighed and moved a little closer, they folded their arms and stared blankly ahead. Their glassy expression made the crown prince’s heart sink right to the floor. Maybe he could cancel the meeting! He promised he’d spend more time with MC and he intended to keep it!

“MC, I could-”

“Dia, no.” MC looked up and gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I knew what I was getting into when I said I’d be with you. Your kingdom is more important than one little date.”

“But I wanted to make you happy today…” Diavolo mumbled. His kingdom had always come first, before his friends, before MC, before even himself, was it so much to ask to have just one day for him to spend with the person he loved?

The human reaches up and lowered Diavolo’s arm and looped it around their shoulders. “And you did, any time that I get to spend with you makes me happy. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. The crab moment was pretty awesome.”

MC pulled out their DDD and showed Diavolo a picture of himself chucking the giant crab into the watery horizon. “We can put at least one moment of this date into the photo album.”

The precise tapping of the falling raindrops cause the DDD to flick to the next picture, which was an awkwardly angled snapshot of MC brandishing a stick at a much smaller crab who had attached its claws to their ankle.

“Uh, maybe not this picture…”

Barbatos

The poor butler rarely ever gets a day off, and he could tell MC missed spending time with him, so he asked Diavolo for a day off.

Of course Diavolo said yes, but when the day of the date came…

Barbatos saw every mishap and disaster coming a mile away. The smart thing to do would be cancel the date, but NO. Barbatos was going to use his powers for good and make sure MC had the time of their life!

The first disaster was supposed to come in the form of a pickpocket stealing MC’s wallet, key word being supposed.

As the perp made their way through the somewhat crowded sidewalk, fully prepared to swipe some wallets, Barbatos quickly twirled and dipped MC out of the way. This action also conveniently had the result of Barb knocking the pickpocket out cold.

MC of course, was none the wiser of the attempted theft and just assumed Barbatos was being suave (tm).

The second disaster was both MC and Barbatos getting hot coffee accidentally spilled all over them. Or it WOULD have been if Barbatos hadn’t quickly notified the person that would have spilled the drink that their shoelaces were undone.

Hell yeah! Second disaster averted!

The date progressed smoothly, well, as smooth as it could have gone. All those days of work and the task of making sure MC was none the wiser of any of the nasty things that could have ruined the date was really making Barbatos tired…

“Barbatos, are you alright?” “*exhausted breathing* Y-yes dearest, of course. Don’t trouble yourself.”

MC would have bought that lie if Barbatos didn’t look like he had just finished running a ten kilometre long race through a heatwave.

After making sure MC was not in the path of the escaped hellhound that would be running down the street in three, two, one, there it went, MC was safe and sound, Barbatos sighed in relief.

Just one more thing…

In the smoothest possibly motion, Barbatos opened the umbrella he had been carrying and held it over himself and MC.

MC looked up at the umbrella perplexed. “Barbatos, why-”

Thunder rumbled as the first drops of rain pelted harmlessly against the umbrella. Barbatos smiled softly and took MC’s hand. “Did you enjoy the date, darling?”

“Have you been doing damage control all day..?” MC asked. “Oh no wonder you look exhausted…”

Barbatos’ face burned with embarrassment when MC wrapped their arms around him.

“You work way to hard, this date was supposed to be relaxing for the both of us,” MC sighed. “You know what? We’re going to go back to the Demon Lord’s Castle, and I’m making you tea and snacks.”

“MC..?”

They began to pull Barbatos in the direction of the castle and plucked the umbrella out of his hand.

“I’ll hold this.” MC smiled brightly. “You relax, mister.”

Barbatos was about to protest, then sighed, no future he could see in his brief overview involved MC giving up on their new mission to make him take a break. He felt himself smile, he really lucked out with this human, didn’t he?

Simeon

The next volume of TSL had been released and Simeon was officially completely exhausted. He had spent the past two days signing special hardback copies and his writing hand was officially deceased.

He needed to relax and unwind… who better to do it with than MC? Simeon simply invited MC over to Purgatory Hall to hang out.

Oh my~ premarital eye contact~

It was just so nice, MC rested their head on Simeon’s chest while they lounged in bed watching TV, their hands gently intwined, the smell of Luke baking cookies…

Simeon let out a content sigh, he was truly and completely at peace in that moment. The soft knock on the door to his room barely phased him.

Solomon poked his head into the room with a bright smile.

“Hi you two, so sorry to barge in on your date, but before Luke took over the kitchen I made way too much food. I’ll bring some in for you guys!” “Solomon no-” “Wait!”

The date was now in intense danger. They needed to get out of there immediately! The first thing the angel could think to do to save the love of his life was to throw them out of the window.

Fret not, MC’s fall slowed considerably and they gently landed on the grass outside thanks to Simeon’s magic, but the angel himself was not as lucky. Yes his fall was slowed, but he still faceplanted into the dirt.

The two ended up running for dear life away from Purgatory Hall, further exhausting Simeon.

Well, at least they ended up near a very pretty fountain. Simeon and MC sat on the fountain ledge and resumed their snuggling.

Until Simeon got a phone call from a very frantic Luke begging for help with his math homework.

Due to being quite rusty at the subject, Simeon had to teach himself how to calculate the square root of something and then teach Luke, which was honestly frustrating for everyone involved.

After the homework was felt with, Simeon got ready to sit back down on the fountain ledge, ended up missing, then slipped straight into the fountain. It was a good thing that the water was shallow…

Then to MC and Simeon’s horror, it began to rain.

“Well…” Simeon sighed, he accepted MC’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the fountain. “This isn’t so bad..?”

Lightning cracked in the distance, Simeon pulled MC into his arms on reflex, only to then realize that MC had become just as soaked as he was.

“I… sorry, MC.”

Simeon slowly unwrapped his arms from around MC, but the human remained firmly in place. “Ah, it’s fine. Want to call a cab or back to Purgatory Hall?”

“Y-yes, that sounds-” Simeon felt around for his phone, then winced and looked into the fountain. His phone was lying at the bottom of the fountain… “Do you think you could call?”

MC perked up and planted a kiss on Simeon’s cheek. “Of course, we can cuddle in the car.”

“That sounds wonderful…”

Solomon

Solomon decided to text MC at two in the morning to ask them out. In his defence, he was up late making potions and didn’t notice what time it was.

“Hey MCMCMCMCMC-” “ITS TWO OCLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING.” “Wanna go on a date tmrw?” “…ok.” “🥳” “see you tomorrow, Solomon.” “Oh yea- that reminds me- look at this snail I saw yesterday.” “Effervescent.” “Marry me.”

Obviously super happy that MC said yes to the date, Solomon was newly rejuvenated and went back to making his potion. It was six in the morning when he realized that maybe he should have just quit while he was ahead and went back to sleep.

It was a little late for that! He needed to go to school, then go on the date. Solomon gracefully took MC’s hand, led them out of the school, then fell down the stairs.

It um… may have messed up his tailbone. Solomon never felt more like an old man than when he and MC sat down at the cafe for coffee and MC had to help him into his seat.

The coffee arrived, MC and Solomon drank it, and Solomon just sighed in relief. This was nice, time with his sweet MC…

The way they made him feel so completely at ease… that smile… those eyes… those eyes were looking very confused-

“Solomon…” “Yes my sweet?” “There’s uh… there’s a giant spider on your head…”

…Solomon looked up and the giant spider fell right into his drink. He wasn’t thirsty anymore.

A little later, he and MC were walking hand in hand through the park, the darkness of the Devildom was almost comforting as the fireflies and pixies created little balls of light that danced around the pair.

It was such a soothing sight to behold, Solomon and MC sat down beneath a giant tree. MC rested their head on his shoulder, and Solomon let out a content sigh. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment…

Solomon was harshly shaken awake by MC who yelled at him for falling asleep in the presence of pixies. Solomon had completely forgotten that pixies like to possess sleeping people. That was probably why he was awoken in the middle of stuffing his face with cookies that were in his backpack.

The two unanimously decided that it would be best to head back to Purgatory Hall. When the two had just returned to civilization… Solomon heard thunder.

Quick as a flash, Solomon looped his arm around MC’s waist and pulled them closer, using his other hand to draw a circle above them, when the rain began to fall, the two were completely dry thanks to the shield.

“Ha… HA! HAHAHA!” Solomon pointed and laughed at the sky. “GOT YOU BITCH!”

“Solomon..?” MC asked tentatively. “Are you alright?”

The sorcerer looked at his dear sweet perfect MC, gave them a toothy smile, and shook his head. “No darling, I’ve been awake for 56 hours.”

“Wait what? You texted me at two in the morning, you couldn’t have been awake for more than an extra few hours..?”

Solomon peppered MC’s face with sleepy kisses as the rain pattered against the shield. “I have a weird life.”

“You know what, I buy it.” MC sighed fondly. “Do you want to go home and sleep?”

“More than anything, I’ll teleport us home!”

“NO! Let’s just call someone to pick us up!”

[rodr1cks]

Heather Hills | 2.5k

part two

neighbor trope where you’re in love with Rodrick but he can’t stop pining after Heather Hills, takes place during Dog Days

warnings: noncon touching (our ass gets grabbed), swearing, smut, heather is a huge bitch

Tonight was the night. You picked out a black silk dress that hugged your body perfectly. You looked... nice? Nicer than usual, at least.

Still, your mood was melancholy, you weren’t too excited to watch Rodrick drool over Heather all night. Despite this, you put on a smile and met Rodrick outside.

His band members, Rowley, and Greg were crowded together in the back. They always left the passenger seat to you, such gentlemen. As soon as you opened the door you were bombarded with wolf whistles and crude remarks from his cronies. “Rodrick if you don’t tap that I will!” The guitarist exclaimed while eyeing you up and down.

“Guys, guys stop, please,” Rodrick seemed a little unnerved by the banter. After that, the van was silent all the way to the party.

Upon arrival, you began to unpack the van, unloading equipment. “Hey, hey, hey, pretty girl like you doesn’t need to do the heavy lifting,” the guitarist said to you as he winked. He always went out of his way to make you uncomfortable. You laughed a bit to appease him, then walked away.

Gross.

The band was set up and Rodrick was clearly nervous.

“You don’t understand, y/n. This has to be perfect.”

You knew the importance of this going well but you couldn’t decide if you wanted it to. On one hand, he could get Heather Hills, the girl of his dreams. On the other hand, he’d be crushed. Poor Rodrick has already taken enough beatings from the girls at your school.

“I know, you’ll be great, though,” you were unsure of that statement.

“You always know what to say.”

He walked away, ready to start the set of a lifetime.

The guitarist approached you again. “Wish me luck sexy,” he whispered and smacked your ass playfully. You gasped, tears threatening to form in your eyes.

Just brush it off, you’re okay. You need to enjoy the show.

You tried not to think about his pathetic little mustache and the giant pimple that sat squarely between his eyebrows.

Why did Rodrick hang out with such scum?

The first notes of the song rang through the tent. Rodrick was… singing? Heather Hills did not look amused. Panicking, Rodrick signaled to Greg, “FULL DIAPER!”

Dear god.

Banners unfurled and cannons sounded. It was a complete disaster. Somehow the chocolate fountain went haywire and coated half the crowd with liquid chocolate, including Heather. Shit. Rodrick was done for.

Everybody pitched in with loading the van and you were out of there in no time. You feared Heather would’ve killed the lot of you if you lingered any longer. Greg and Rowley were the only passengers this time. You and Rodrick were in the front seat, not speaking.

“Rodrick, can I tell you something?”

You knew Greg and Rowley were caught up in their own conversation but you didn’t want to risk them overhearing, so you whispered. Rodrick nodded.

“Your guitarist, h-he uhm, he kind of touched me before your set.” Rodrick’s eyes widened. “Where?” he asked you sternly. “He kind of grabbed my ass.” You looked down, embarrassed. “Great, now Heather hates me and I’m short a guitarist.”

On the way back to Rodrick’s, you passed a gas station and you asked him to pull over.

“Rodrick let me out at this gas station, pretty please!”

He groaned and pulled into the lot. You ran in and made a beeline for the fridges in the back.

Where is it, where is it, ah!

Mint chip and cookie dough, both your favorites. You checked out and ran back to the van. Rodrick looked over, delighted when he saw your purchases. “He ruffled your hair and muttered a thank you. You smiled, “And that’s not all,” you pulled out two candy bars for the chocolate coated fugitives in the back.

Rodrick parked on the street in front of The Heffley household.

“Alright, everybody out!”

Greg and Rowley filed out as did you. Rodrick stayed put. “Aren’t you coming?” He nodded at you, “I have something to take care of first. Put the ice cream in the freezer and take a shower. Get that chocolate off of you.” He gestured at your hair and face which were coated in chocolate.

What could he need to do right now? Probably off to find Heather Hills and beg for her highness’ forgiveness.

You did as he said and borrowed his shower for a bit. You felt instant relief as the warm water trickled down your shoulders, chocolate melting away along with your stress. After your shower, you grabbed one of Rodrick’s t-shirts.

Lending you a shirt was the least he could do, considering the hell he’d put you through.

What a fucking night it’s been.

You sat around for a bit, awaiting Rodrick’s return. You heard the door swing open downstairs. He walked up the stairs to his room, ice cream pints in hand. You smiled at him before your gaze lingered down to his knuckles.

“Holy shit, Rodrick. What the fuck did you do?”

He looked down, “Well you told me what my guitarist did to you and I- I couldn’t help it. He needed to know what he did was out of line.”

Your jaw dropped, “So you what? Broke his nose?” He rolled his eyes at your theatrics, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” Had Rodrick really beat somebody up for you?

“So are we gonna eat this ice cream or what?”

You both sat on Rodricks couch, limbs entangled, eating your ice cream. He looked over at you, “Switch?” You shrugged, passing him your mint chip and grabbing his cookie dough. For the next half hour, you both sat in silence, processing the night’s events.

“Hey, I’m sorry about Heather.”

“Y’know, y/n, I realized something while I was performing. Heather Hills wasn’t by the stage cheering me on, Heather Hills doesn’t go out of her way to be kind to my family, Heather Hills wouldn’t look that good that tiny black bikini of yours,” Rodrick smirked, “and most importantly, Heather Hills didn’t buy me my favorite ice cream to make me feel better. Heather Hills doesn’t care for me like you do.”

You weren’t really processing everything. Was he hitting on you? Or flirting or… He cut your thoughts short by grabbing your waist and pulling you on top of him. “Woah what are you-“ He shushed you and grabbed your ice cream from your hand, setting it on the table.

Rodrick grabbed your hands, halting your mindless fiddling. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how good you are to me earlier, y/n. I know that probably made you feel like dog shit.”

You let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, it did. But, you know now?” He placed one of his large hands on your cheek, using his thumb to stroke your face gently, “Yeah, pretty girl, I do.”

Pretty girl. Your stomach churned and your face turned bright red. Rodrick leaned in slowly and gently kissed you. His lips felt heavenly, they were soft and warm and better than you could’ve imagined. “God I’ve wanted to sink my teeth into you ever since I saw you in that little bathing suit.”

His voice was low and guttural, nothing like you’d heard before. This was a new Rodrick and you had no idea how to react, all you could do was sit there and stutter helplessly.

You could melt. Was this really happening? You had to check.

“Is this really happening?”

You felt him smile. He licked a stripe from your collarbone to your jaw, “You tell me.” You moaned quietly as his grasp on your waist tightened.

“How long have you wanted this, y/n? Wanted me?”

Your stomach clenched at his words, might as well tell the truth. “Since sophomore year. I-I went to one of your gigs and you didn’t see me” His hand moved to your breast and you sucked in a breath. “You looked so good on stage, I knew I wanted your hands all over me,” you managed to gasp out.

“I knew you were there,” he said matter-of-factly. You froze. “I told my mom, part of why she likes you so much, thinks you’re supportive of me or something.”

Is he serious, this is humiliating.

“I remember what you were wearing, too. A little red dress, you stood out. Never knew the neighbor girl cleaned up so nice until that night.”

He must’ve sensed your embarrassment, “Hey, it’s okay, no need to be shy.” You eased up a little bit, your hands finding his hair and gently pulling. “Atta girl.”

As things got more heated, he got more eager. At one point he looked up at you, silently asking for permission to remove your shirt. You nodded, laughing at him, “A gentleman, I see.” He made stern eye contact with you,

“I don’t have to be.”

He tore your (his) shirt over your head and stopped when he found you were wearing nothing underneath.

“Naughty, naughty girl.”

You wanted his shirt off too, along with everything else. You wanted to see him, feel him. You made quick work of removing his t-shirt and discarding it on the floor behind you.

You could feel his hard on through your panties and it was driving you insane. “Rodrick,” you panted, “I need you, please.”

The hand he was using to roll your nipple between his fingers moved to your clit and rubbed gentle circles over it. “Since you asked so nicely,” he grinned.

Your hand flew on top of his and he winced. “Oh shit, right, your hand! I’m so so-,” he flipped you onto your back and stood up from the couch. Your stomach dropped before you understood what he was doing. He fought with his belt for a moment before pulling it off and sliding his jeans and boxers off.

Christ he’s big.

He resumed his position on the couch and began stroking his cock while hovering above you. He leaned down to kiss your collar bone sweetly.

You muttered one last plea before he positioned himself in front of you.

“Are you ready for me, pretty girl?”

God there he goes again.

You arched your back up in response, letting out a small sigh of desperation. This was all so new, you had no idea Rodrick could be so… well spoken?

Rodrick took a deep breath as he bottomed out. The air was knocked out of your lungs. Fucking Christ. He split you in half with ease, groaning as he rolled his hips against you.

“R-Rodrick?” He muttered something indistinct in response. “Is this your first time?” He looked kind of embarrassed. “Yeah, uh, it is, yes.” Part of you was happy it was his first time. The other part of you felt bad for him. You knew that if girls would’ve just given him a chance, they’d see how incredible he was-

You were torn from your thoughts by Rodrick pulling out and slamming back into your willing body. You nearly screamed. He continued at an absolutely brutal pace.

“Jesus christ, Rodrick, never knew you could do this,” you gasped out, eyes rolling back.

He smirked down at you before pulling out, grabbing your hips, and flipping you over onto your hands and knees. Your head was pressed sideways against the arm of the couch but you didn’t care. Rodrick quickly got back to work, fucking you to the beginnings of your orgasm.

“Rodrick, I’m gonna-“ He grabbed your hair and yanked hard so your back was against his chest,

“Cum on my cock.”

That was all it took, you were gone, shaking and pulsing around him.

After a few more strokes, Rodrick was gone, too. He was grabbing your ass and grinding his hips against you as he finished.

Gently, he pulled out. He rubbed a hand over your ass and admired your raw, red skin.

You rolled back over, panting. “My god, y/n, how did I live without this for so long?” You smiled lazily at the ceiling. He kissed you, clearly spent. You both sat on his couch, heavy panting filling the room.

Rodrick looked over at you, “Ice cream?” He stuck the cup filled with melted sludge in your direction. You put your hand up in protest, “No thank you.” He shrugged, “More for me.” Roderick slurped the melted treat from his spoon. You couldn’t help but laugh at him.

God, Heather would despise this man.

“You know Heather slapped Rowley, right?”

“What? no way?” Rodrick laughed.

“She sure did. Don’t worry though, Rowley got to eat chocolate off of Madison.”

You both spent a moment laughing to yourselves.

You were absolutely satisfied, you could’ve fallen asleep right then and there, on Rodrick’s ratty couch.

“Let’s get you to bed y/n.”

“But I don’t wanna go home, Rodrick!” You whined.

“Who said anything about you going home?”

“Y/n, Mom’s at a writing seminar with Manny and Dad’s at some civil war retreat thing.”

Was he inviting you to stay the night? “Call your mom, tell her you’re with your friend… uh… Heather.”

Giggling, you did just that. “Wait a minute, your parents left you alone with Greg?” He swatted at you playfully, giving you a goofy glare.

Rodrick stood up and offered out his hand. You decided to be cocky and deny his help. In your attempt to stand up, you stumbled, nearly eating shit.

“Woah, woah, easy there tiger,” Rodrick said snarkily, grabbing your waist before you hit the ground. You hadn’t expected to be so unstable.

“Alright, do you want my shirt back, gorgeous?” You nodded sleepily.

He grabbed the previously discarded shirt from the ground and slipped it over your head. He then pushed your hair out of your face and placed a gentle kiss onto your forehead.

Rodrick led you over to his bed. It was a twin but you guys would make it work.

He disappeared for a moment and came back with a rag. “C’mere sweetheart. You turned to face him slowly as he sat down on the bed. He began tenderly wiping between your thighs.

“Look at you, so beautiful,” he mused. Out of instinct, you looked away from him. “I mean it, y/n.”

He climbed into bed with you, his lanky limbs making comfort difficult.

“There we go,” he sighed after you both finally found a comfortable position. You closed your eyes and Rodrick began tracing lines over your lightly clothed back. You could hear the summer rain pattering against his window and you sighed out, completely satisfied.

Nearly asleep, you noticed something in the corner of Rodrick’s room. His black and white one star’s with tire marks plastered over them. You rolled your eyes and laughed to yourself.

Heather fucking Hills.

+ literally don’t even speak to me about the grammar or the poorly written smut. act like you do not see it ty. and please send me rq’s!!