#do you know how much of a bugger is was having to write a fake magazine article?

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 7 - The End

Time to say goodbye to this story. I've had the most fun writing it, I've loved Seren 🥰. I really, truly hope you've liked it too - hugest thank yous to everyone who's read it 😘. Always feel free to comment or message me or drop me an ask - literally I need no excuse whatsoever to go feral over Jack Lowden!

I am terrified about how emotionally traumatic Episode 5 is going to be so I distracted myself by finishing this off.

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6

Masterlist

Tagging: @cillmequick & @thomasshelbyswife

Chapter 7

“Hi.” Seren said quietly, a small smile on her lips. River nodded, his mouth pinched in a tight line. He turned and went straight back into the kitchen. David gave her a push of encouragement towards the door and she followed him. His hands held the edge of the countertop with a white knuckle grip, she could see his back was tense and feared the worst. Confused, she spoke quickly. “You… you don’t want me here.” She concluded. “And I stupidly assumed you knew about this, I’m sorry.” She shook her head and held up her hands. “I’ll go and he can explain to you, we can figure out a rota or something.”

“He gets forgiven and I don't?” He asked quietly. She stopped in her tracks. 

“I haven't seen or spoken to you? Let's not forget who left me in the middle of the night and no word since?” 

“You didn't want me there.”

“Yeah, at first. I'm pretty sure that changed when-” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “when I let you into my bed! Or did you get what you wanted and that's that?” She hissed. His face fell. 

“Seren, you know that's not it. I left because I didn't want you to think that you had to forgive me. I wanted you to want to.” Seren took a deep breath and rubbed her temples.

“Look this is… I don't know how we've gone wrong here, I'm pretty sure we're agreeing but,” she shrugged, “this has all got fucked up somewhere.”

“Why would you think I don't want you here?”

“I dunno, this is your world, this MI5 bullshit and now I'm here and involved… what if that's what messes everything up?” She asked. 

“No, no, it's not.” He assured her. She could see the hurt in his eyes. She stepped towards him and covered his hand with her own, matching finger to finger. 

“No more cast?” 

“All healed. Well, I need to be careful but, y'know.”

“You're back to throwing fake punches, then?”

“Ahh, no. I gave up on that.” She traced his fingers with her own. 

“Oh?”

“I do spin class now instead.”

“The one on the bike?” She nodded in reply as he turned his hand around so they were palm to palm, and interlocked their fingers. He pulled a face. “Sounds grim.” 

“I needed the distraction.” She mused. “I know you were doing your job.” 

“Yeah.”

“And that job comes with a level of secrecy.”

“Yeah.” She squeezed his hand lightly and let go.

“Ok.”

“Ok?” He looked confused. 

“Ok. I get it.”

“... And?” She smiled at the hopeful look in his eyes, rolling her own in exasperation. 

“Do I need to spell it out?” He shrugged, a smile pulling at his mouth. “You're forgiven.” She told him solemnly. He smiled widely until she held up a hand and it faltered. “But-”

“But?”

“But I have let the entire secret service into my life - they have looked into everything I've ever done. They found out about when I got three speeding tickets in the space of a week fifteen years ago. They know every job I've ever had - including the Anne Summers Saturday job I had when I was seventeen. They know I broke my ankle when I was twenty one, they know how much Netflix I watch. They know more about my life than I can even remember, River. That's… a lot.”

“It is a lot, Seren dear, and I'm eternally grateful to you.” David ambled through, not paying any attention to their proximity. “It's rather a big commitment to make to two men who've mostly pissed you off. What was it you told me before?” He wondered, “Ah yes, we sounded desperate.” 

“You did.” She remembered with a smile. “You still do - I should fill up this fridge. Poor bugger, you've been living on microwave meals.” 

“He brought that on himself.” River pointed out, purposely nudging her. 

“How ever did the Cartwright men survive?” She wondered. 

“We didn't. That's why you're here.” David declared. 

“Hmmm, yes, and I expect you both to grovel for as long as I say so,” she called after him as he went back to the sitting room. She felt River behind her, his warm breath by her ear. 

“On my knees. Every day. If that's what it takes.” He murmured, placing a large palm on her stomach and pulling her body flush with his. She trembled against him as he leaned in to bite her earlobe, unable to stifle the low moan. She quickly clamped her hand over her mouth.

“Seren? Put the kettle on, would you?” David called. River gently pulled her hand from her mouth. 

“Better answer him. He might come looking for you.” 

“You knob,” she scowled. “It's on David, I'll come and get the pot in a minute.”

“Righto,” he said cheerfully, she vaguely heard the rustle of the newspaper over the pounding of her heart. The hand River had on her stomach had slipped under her t-shirt and drew loose patterns on her skin. The front of her thighs pressed against the table and she had visions of being bent over it, lifting her hips to meet his while her fingers gripped the varnished wood and he pounded into her. The thought had her keening against him as his hand moved up to cup her breast over her bra. 

“Something you need?” He asked, his voice low in her ear. She didn't trust herself to speak, instead she arched her back and pushed herself back against his hard cock. He growled against her neck, “I could just bend you over this table?” She whimpered in agreement. “But not now.” Seren twisted in his arms and moved her legs to let him rest between them. She moaned into his mouth as his tongue slid against hers. 

“River-” She whispered as he bit along her jawline. 

“Not here. I want to hear you next time.” He looked at her intently, his eyes bright blue and dancing with mischief. Seren whined in frustration. “I want to see how many times I can get you to make that sound,” he kissed her again. “I want to hear you every time you say my name, and,” he kissed the tip of her nose, “I want to not wake up to an empty bed this time.”

“You and me both,” she breathed. 

“Are we OK?”

“I mean, aside from this still probably completely inappropriate -”

“At least I'm not the one paying you anymore.”

“Fair point, yes, we're OK.” He leaned in to kiss her again, “but-” Seren held up a finger to his lips which he promptly drew into his mouth, making her whimper. “We really should figure out what this is, because I don't want to make my working here awkward or confusing for David.” He released her finger and nodded. 

“You're the boss.” He said with a smirk.

“Not you anymore, is it?” She teased, “no more calling you ‘sir’.”

“Makes sense, I'm the one supposed to be grovelling.” 

“On your knees wasn't it?” She asked curiously, looping her arms around his neck. 

“You got it.”

“My place later?” 

“Fuck yes.” 

“Seren?” David called from the living room. Her head dropped to River's shoulder.

“Later.” He promised. 

“On my way,” she called back to David, pushing River back so she could stand up away from the table. She went to collect the teapot and check what he needed while River put the kettle on. 

*

Seren left the Cartwright’s late afternoon, saying goodbye to both of them. Only a couple of hours later, River knocked on her door. She let him in and had barely closed the door behind her before River had her backed up against it. 

“All day,” he muttered against her collarbone, “been thinking about this all fucking day.” 

“Oh god, River-” She panted as he grasped the soft flesh of her thighs. “Wait, wait, wait, I’ve just come from the gym, I’m disgusting.” She pointed out. He leaned back to look at her, hair piled into a bun on the top of her head wearing a crop top and lycra leggings.

“Don’t care,” he muttered, licking a path down her neck.

“Fuck me,” she gasped as he bit her bare shoulder.

“Yep, that’s what I -” he broke off, listening, “what’s that noise?”

“The shower. I told you, I’ve just got back from the gym.” He took her hand and led her to the bathroom where steam billowed out from the still running shower. He reached out to unzip the front of her crop top and threw it in the vague direction of her washing basket, he pulled off his own t-shirt and added it to the pile. “What are you up to?” She wondered aloud, taking off the rest of her gym kit and stepping into the hot shower. He stepped in behind her and poured vanilla scented body wash into his hands until it frothed. He stood closely behind her so she could lean against him, and rubbed the soapy water from her hands, up to her shoulders and across the other side. He held her against him as he gently washed her stomach, over her breasts and the rest of her body. She sighed contentedly.

“This ok?” He asked, his hands running over and between her thighs. She nodded and reached up to pull the hair tie from her bun. River guided them further under the water stream, his height over her giving him a direct line of sight down her body. Seren took the shampoo from the shelf and he took it from her, gently washing her hair. He took his time, she relaxed against him, his eyes were drawn to the path the droplets of water took over her skin, like memories of where his mouth had been.

“Why’re you doing this?” She questioned as his fingers kneaded through her hair. She moaned at the slight pull, he kissed her neck, acknowledging that he’d heard her response.

“You look after everyone.” He explained simply. He replaced the shampoo and picked up the conditioner, repeating the same process until Seren was dizzy with her need for him. 

They lay nose to nose in Seren’s bed, close to sleep.

“We should be careful, David put himself out there by demanding Taverner employed me. I don’t want to break his trust.”

“I know. This doesn’t have to be complicated, maybe we should just enjoy the distraction. Keep it simple.” He rolled onto his back and pulled her with him. He felt her nod in agreement.

“Yeah. Keep it simple.”

“I want you to be able to walk away from this one day. You don’t want MI5 in your life forever.” He reasoned, half asleep. Seren stayed quiet. His breathing evened out and the hand that brushed up and down her bare back fell still.

“What if I do?” She whispered to the darkness.

*

Seren was on her way to David's when the phone rang through the car. 

“Ms Harrison?” Her stomach dropped to her feet, it didn't sound like Taverner fortunately, so her mind immediately went to the next worst case scenario - Mags in the care home. 

“Yes, that's me?”

“I'm calling from Medway hospital, we have David Cartwright here - you're listed as one of his emergency contacts?”

“David? Oh, god. Yes, yes I'm his home help, I'm on my way there now, what's happened?” She came to a set of lights and did a u-turn.

“You're not live in?”

“No, we didn't think he needed that just yet.”

“It's not too serious, he's had a fall and managed to get to his panic button. The ambulance brought him in about half an hour ago.”

“Ok, have you called his other emergency contact?”

“Not yet -”

“I will. I'll do it. I'll be there in five minutes.” Seren hung up and flicked her eyes to her dash display to select River's name.

“I was just thinking about you,” he answered before she could get a word in. 

“He's had a fall. I'm on my way to the hospital,” she interrupted quickly. 

“Shit, ok, I'm on my way.”

“They said it wasn't serious but-” her voice cracked. 

“It’s going to be fine, I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“I'll call you when I know more.” He hung up first, she could hear muttered swearing as the handset moved from his ear so he could end the call. After hastily abandoning her car in the first space she saw, she raced to the reception desk. “David Cartwright, please? Came in an ambulance, I was just speaking with someone?” The computer keyboard clicked as the receptionist tapped her manicured fingers on the keys.

“Ahh yes, he's on the Acute Medical unit, Lister Ward, follow signs for Red 3. You're going behind me, turn left and up the stairs.”

“Thanks!” Seren ran toward the stairs to the next reception desk where she repeated who she was. A nurse led her down the brightly lit corridor to a small ward of 4 beds. In the far corner by the window was David. She rushed for the bed, managing to stop and slow down as she reached the end of the bed. “David,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. She went to his bedside and took his hand carefully, taking note of the cannula in the back. She followed the tubes up to an IV bag. His hand felt small and weightless in hers, the skin paper thin and cool to touch. 

“You've cold hands, dear girl.” He said hoarsely. She closed her eyes in relief at the sound of his voice. 

“Cold hands, warm heart.” She told him, reaching her other hand out to brush his hair from his eyes. “What have you been up to? Silly man.”

“Thought I'd get the kettle on for us, came a cropper on the stairs.” She tsked him lightly with click of her tongue. 

“Shit, I need to tell River you're OK, he's bombing down the motorway,” she picked up her phone and found his number. “He's OK, awake and talking to me. I just need to find a nurse for an update. Lister ward, Red zone 3.” She told him quietly. River arrived as the nurse did. They all listened patiently as she explained that aside from some bruises from the fall, he was perfectly fine but they did want to keep him in for a few days as a precaution. Once the nurse had left, River was able to reach to embrace David. He could only watch Seren but he could see she was itching to be closer to him. 

“You allowed a coffee old man?”

“I bloody better be, I shall discharge myself if not.” He declared. 

“Seren?”

“Yeah, I'll pop to the bathroom and help you bring them back. Won't be long, no causing trouble,” she warned David. In the safety of the corridor, away from the doorway to the ward, River pulled Seren into his arms. 

“You ok?”

“Silly bugger scared the shit out of me, I think I got flashed I got here so fast.” She grumbled, taking a deep inhale of the soap from her bathroom mixed with his own scent. He kissed the top of her head and then lifted her chin to kiss her properly, more intimately than she'd expected in public. The nurse who'd spoken to them blushed as she manned the reception desk. 

“C'mon, let's get his coffee, I only got you out here so I could kiss you.” He reluctantly let her go and went to push coins into the machine.

“You don't have to stick around here all day, you know?” David told her, “someone else is babysitting, go and enjoy yourself.” Seren looked torn. 

“I mean it. And you, shouldn't you be back in London? I certainly don't need both of you here.” He turned his attention to River. 

“I could go and visit Maggie,” Seren wondered aloud.

“Go,” David smiled. “Do go, dear girl. I'm fine, really.” River watched the guilt gnawing at her, that she hadn't been there early enough in the morning to have prevented the fall. Despite what the nurse had said, the worry was still etched in her face. 

“You should go, I'll stay here.”

“No you won't, I already told you, back to work.” River grimaced. “Go on, off you go.”

“Ok, if you insist?” Seren stood up and helped him get more comfortable in the bed, smoothing out the blanket, pouring more water for him and getting the newspaper from her bag along with a pen. “I'll be back later this evening, call me if you want me to bring anything else?” River watched, awed by their bond, the shorthand in their conversation and Seren's clear love for his grandfather. She kissed his forehead and gave him a winning smile, disguising the worry. “Be good for the nurses.” 

“I'll walk out with you, if you're sure grandad?”

“I am indeed, leave me in peace with my crossword.” River gave his hand a squeeze and gestured for Seren to go ahead of him. She turned at the door to wave at David. 

“So… going to work?” She asked once they were in the corridor. 

“No way, I'm going wherever you're going.”

“Oh you are, are you? To visit Maggie then?”

“Lead the way. We can drop your car off at the house and I'll drive?”

“Something wrong with my car?”

“Apart from the music choices?” She arched an eyebrow, 

“Tread carefully, Cartwright.”

“3 speeding tickets in one week, you got flashed this morning, it sounds like the wheels are about to drop off… anything else? Is your engine light on this week?” She scowled. 

“Not this week, no. I did do a probably illegal u-turn this morning though.” 

“Probably illegal?” He teased, slinging an arm around her as they left the hospital. 

*

“Seren, darling!” Mags called across the sunroom of the care home the second she came into view. Seren let the older woman pull her into a bear hug deceptively strong for someone in their eighties. 

“Hello Mags. God, I've missed you.” Seren squeezed tighter until Maggie clocked River standing further back. 

“Oh! You've brought your handsome man with you!”

“My friend, Mags. River is my friend.” 

“Well friendship suits you dearie, you certainly never looked this happy when you were my friend.” Maggie said slyly. 

“What's all this ‘was’ your friend, I am your friend you daft old bat.” 

“Cheeky, I can have you kicked out. Leave the man behind though.”

“No chance. How've you been?”

“Sit, sit, both of you. Are the girls getting some tea? I'm not too bad,” she flapped. “Service could be better,” she grumbled, looking around for a member of staff. 

“I'm fine, really good. You look well?” River sat down next to Seren but held back as the women talked, only being drawn when Maggie insisted. Seren's relationship with Maggie was similar to the one she had with David, she loved them and cared for them as if they were her own grandparents. He found himself lost in a near future where David wasn't around any longer. Found himself wondering and then what? It hadn't occurred to him that one day, his only relationship with someone outside of work would no longer be there. He would essentially be alone. He missed what Seren said as she stood up and brushed his shoulder as she left the room, but Maggie soon dragged him back into the conversation. 

“You're very quiet darling. I'm sure he'll be just fine.” River frowned. “Your grandfather? Seren said you've both come from the hospital this morning?”

“Sorry, yes. Yeah I'm sure he'll be OK.”

“But you're not?” She mused. “Out with it, before she gets back?”

“He's all I've got. It just occurred to me that he's all I've got apart from a few colleagues I'm not sure I'd call friends.” His brow furrowed again. 

“You've got her,” she nodded over at Seren who was laughing with one of the staff members. Her smile was radiant. He shook his head. 

“We decided to keep it simple, nothing serious.” Maggie's chuckle turned into a cough. 

“If you say so, love.” Seren came back over and Maggie fell silent.

“Apparently they're about to take you through for afternoon tea, so we'll head out.”

“Wonderful to see you. Bring cake next time, theirs is shite.” 

“Love you, Mags. Be good.” Seren gave her a hug and once she was released, Maggie ordered River over. 

“Don't be a fool, young man,” she muttered quietly. “Lovely to see you both, off you pop now.” As they left the room with Maggie watching, Seren slipped her hand into his and squeezed. 

“Everything alright?” She asked, her voice laced with concern. He nodded. 

“Yeah, yeah fine.” She didn't look entirely convinced, but let it go. “I, uhh, I'm going to head back to London if you don't mind?” Seren shook her head slowly.

“Sure, ok. I'll get my car and go back to the hospital for an hour.” They drove back to David's in near silence with Seren trying to understand what had happened over the previous couple of hours to have caused River to retreat into himself so much. “I'll call you later?” She asked, confused and a little hurt.

“Yeah, let me know if he needs anything. Otherwise I'll be back in a couple of days when he's ready to be discharged.” Seren nodded, her smile tight. She got straight into her car and decided to head straight to the hospital, not wanting to be alone. 

River made it one junction up the motorway back to London before turning around and going to Seren's house. She arrived home to find him sitting on the doorstep. She stopped suddenly, almost falling over him. 

“Oh shit!” She yelped, “you scared me half to death. What are you doing here, I thought you were going home?” He got to his feet and moved aside so she could unlock the door. She pushed it open and let him through first. “River? I thought you were going home?”

“I did. I am.” He said softly. Seren frowned a little, unsure of his meaning. 

“Ok,” she said gently, “ok. Let's get some food, you must be freezing.” He followed her to the kitchen where he sat at the table while she pottered around cooking. “David's doing fine, I think they'll probably let him out tomorrow. There's no reason to keep him in and they need the bed space.” She chatted to him, filling the silence. “I know you must be worried, but he's honestly alright. I'm sure the nurses are sick of him already. He was struggling to remember who I was, but I think it's the unfamiliar surroundings. I spent two hours with him telling me about his wonderful grandson, and then as I was getting ready to leave, he recognised me.” He moved to stand behind her, his chin on her shoulder and arms looped around her waist. She turned a little to offer him a spoonful of the rich tomato sauce she'd made. He nodded his approval and kissed her lightly, feeling her relax in his arms. His silence had made her tense, he realised. “You know you can talk to me about anything?” She hesitated, not wanting to overstep. 

“Yeah.” She didn't push any further but handed him a plate of pasta. “I always thought he was invincible.” He admitted sadly. She held her breath, waiting for him to go on. “Having you here, he was doing so much better. I thought he'd be here forever.”

“He's still here,” she reminded him, taking his hand. 

“And when he's not? Then what?” She shook her head.

“I don't know,” she confessed. She pushed the food around her plate, her appetite gone. “He talks about you constantly,” she started. “All the bloody time, even when he's lost in the past. He loves you so much, River.” 

“I can count on one hand the number of times he’s said it.” He mumbled, trying to recall the last time he heard it from anyone. His grandmother, Rose, before she'd died most likely. When he looked up from the table to see Seren watching him, he expected to see pity in her eyes, but there was none. 

“Earlier,” she took a deep breath, “when I said I thought you were going home? You said you are.” She paused, halfway between wanting and not wanting an answer to the question hanging in the air. “What did you mean?” 

“I love you.” He said softly, realising that he hadn't said the words since his grandmother had died, let alone heard them. “I've spent all day wondering what will happen when he's gone, when I'm alone, where home is. But I shouldn't have, because I'm not alone.” She shook her head, the movement spilling tears down her cheeks.

“No, you're not.” She moved from her seat at the table and onto his lap, holding his face in her hands. “You're not alone, I love you.” She kissed him, her hands leaving his face to run through his hair. “God, you're such a fucking moron.” He laughed into her neck. 

“When I saw how much you care for him, and for Maggie… She told me. She said I'd got you too. I know I said we should just be able to walk away, no hard feelings, but I don't want that.”

“You've always had me, I'm not going anywhere.” She sighed, heavy with relief and finally relaxing into him. “We do need to work out what to tell him though?” He kissed her shoulder. 

“Mmm. Give me tonight, that's tomorrow's problem.”

*

“Watch your step,” Seren warned, holding David's elbow as he lifted himself out of River’s car. River came round from the driver’s side to take his other arm but was swiftly batted away. Seren bit her lip to disguise the smile.

“Watch my bloody step,” he grumbled. “You watch out, I can still tell Taverner I’ve had enough of you too.”

“Ahh but then she’ll send back Pete who can’t play chess.” River told him.

“Is he the one who drank IPA? Disgusting stuff. I couldn’t even get him to fetch me a decent bottle of scotch. Over my dead body will he be back.” David complained.

“I’m sure he wasn’t that bad.” Seren reasoned as River went ahead of them to unlock the door.

“He was.” They stepped over the threshold together, “and he couldn’t make coffee and walnut cake.” David beamed at the sight of the cake in the centre of the table.

“God, what a crime. Looks like you did the right thing getting me back.” Seren guided him to the sitting room. “Are you feeling ok?”

“I’m not breakable, dear. I’m fine. They let me out didn’t they?”

“Yeah cos they were sick of you.” River muttered under his breath so only Seren could hear, disguising her laugh with a cough.

“I heard that young man. Seren, would you cut that cake please?”

“No problem, tea?”

“Excellent.” He settled back in his armchair, making himself comfortable. In the kitchen, Seren set a tray with cake plates and mugs. She drifted towards River as he came in.

“S’good to have him back here.” She smiled. He took her hand and pulled her away from the tray and into his arms. 

“Yeah it is. Means I shouldn’t be kissing you in the kitchen anymore though,” he grumbled. She leaned up on tiptoes and grazed her lips against his.

“As if that stopped you before.” She challenged. 

“Put her down River, goodness me I may as well look after myself if you’re going to distract her constantly.” David chided from the doorway. Seren sprung from River’s arms, blushing furiously.

“Shit, David, I’m so sorry. I-”

“No need to be sorry, dear. Did you really think I didn’t know? I may be losing my mind but I’m certain my eyesight is perfectly fine. I did tell you, he was bound to have his head turned by a pretty girl. I’m just glad it’s you.” Seren’s mouth formed a perfect O shape. “Just getting a pen for the crossword, I’ll leave you both to it.” He wandered back to the sitting room. “Wouldn’t say no to that cake, though?” He shouted.

FIN

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Honeycake

I sat along a dusty alley, watching carriages clatter by with bitterness. Today had been a slow day. Nobody with their pockets hanging loose, or a purse that was begging to be nabbed. No, all these stingy old bastards were clutching their belongings to themselves. Fake nobility, the whole lotta ‘em. All I managed to stea- Ahem, I mean procure, was a grimy brass locket. And what was a woman supposed to do with such slim pickings?

That was when he showed up. Almost feminine in his features, with a distinct air of elfin grace. A proper high noble, it looked. I eyed his coat, hunting for the telltale bulge of a wallet. Of course, because it was just that sorta day, there was none.

"Bugger it all,” I mumbled. It looked like I was skipping the beer tonight. The cashless noble paused at the entrance to my alley and sniffed. His pampered nose probably couldn't stand the scent of reality, I thought bitterly. Then he strode in, walking to stand over me.

Instantly, I pulled up my coat. Noblemen walking into dark alleys never meant anything good. They were always looking for whores, drug dealers or assassins, and I was none of ‘em. I scuttled aside, hoping he was looking for someone else, but he said, “Hello. Miss Bella, daughter of Rose, daughter of Sonja, yes?”

I twitched slightly. Why did bad things come in heaps? Was he a copper, come sniffing about my little alley in search of Bella-the-thief? “Dunno whatcha talkin' ‘bout, milord. I nevva ‘eard of no Bella, and me mam, sure as Ako knows, wassn no Rose,” I said, praying he wouldn't push further.

The noble pressed his lips together. “I see,” he said, looking down at me, faintly amused. “Well, did you write this, Miss Not-Bella?”

Ah, crap. I knew learning to write would haunt me someday. My mother had, in fact, been Rose-the-baker, and she had brought me to Ako's temple to learn to write. The priestesses there watched as I drew squiggles in the dirt, learning from Ako's Word. They taught me other things too. Like how to pick locks, how to lie through your teeth, and how to steal without getting caught. Great people, Ako's priestesses were. But then the gov'nor of Jannik decided they made too much trouble, and burnt their temple down, and hunted all their followers.

And of course, the easiest way to find a follower of Ako was by looking for lowborn who could write and used His name in their cusses. “Damn,” I said, not bothering to look at the paper. “Milord, I dunno howta write. Nevva even touched a piece o' paper in my life.”

The nobleman sighed. “Please, little one, stop this farce,” he said, his voice gentle. “I know you are Bella, and I mean no harm. In fact, I have come to tell you that your plea to Ako has finally been registered and granted.”

I choked on my own spittle there, and looked up at the paper. It was in my child-self's hand, awkward and emotional, little drops of tears staining and wrinkling the paper where they landed. I had written it after my mother was taken by disease, when I had just seen my tenth winter. It was a desperate prayer for safety and love that never came. I had it memorised by heart.

“Ako, I know you can't bring my mother back. But please, could you send me to a place where I will be safe and loved and have as much honeycake as I want? Your Faithful Bella, daughter of Rose, daughter of Sonja,” I read aloud, knowing the gig was up.

Yep, same letter. I looked up at the nobleman, wondering if he had been a priest at the temple. That was when I finally noticed his eyes. They were a vibrant purple, like dye freshly harvested, or a bellflower in full bloom. It was an eye colour no mortal would have. I sighed heavily. “Wait, milord. Dinnae tell me you're an Angel of Ako. I wouldn' believe ya,” I said. Maybe I'd had too much beer last night, and I'd wake up tomorrow with a horrible headache.

But the nobleman still stood there, a mildly bewildered grin on his face. “Look, little one. I am sorry it took so long to get back to you. But there were hundreds of thousands of letters, and it took so long to fulfil some of them,” he said apologetically.

I couldn't help it. I started laughing, cackling like an addict high on Bonny. “Twenty years,” I said. “You heard my pray'r twenty years later. Oh…” I looked up at him, at those utterly impossible eyes, at the depths that lay within them, and I found that I truly believed. “This has to be a dream.”

The nobleman, or angel, or hells, even Ako himself, offered me his hand. “Lady Berralis would never be so cruel, my child. Come on, now,” he coaxed, pulling me to my feet. “Come home.”

Flicking his wrist, a portal opened. The light on the other end was warm, like an eternal summer. It tore the weariness from my bones like I had soaked in the hot springs of legend, and broke the chill that had grimly settled into me. I glanced back. “Tell me,” I said. “Are you an angel? Or…"

“Or am I Ako himself?” The nobleman laughed, a sound like the sweetest honey, the deepest-flowing rivers. “Do you truly think the God of Mischief himself would tell you, little one?”

I smiled at that.

“Wait,” he said, as I put a foot into the portal. “I almost forgot this.” From the depths of his coat, he withdrew a little package.I accepted it curiously and opened it up.

“A honeycake,” I said, grinning. “All the honeycakes I could eat, eh? Takk, Milord. For everything.”

I took a big bite of the honeycake, savouring the richness, and the undercurrent of spice. A tiny part of me wondered why I wasted my money on all that beer when I could have been buying honeycakes instead, and I laughed.

Then I stepped through the portal.

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

my only critique of a lot of readers is they always seem to expect us to 100% buy into everything they post, if you try to even say oh theyre definitely being a tad too delusional surely an idol just isnt going to tell someone on tne internet their sexual preferences when the idols are usually aware of whats on the internet anyway (felix already knows about tumblr) its just almost hilarious to me that they even try to tell us such things in their readings i mainly take them with a grain of salt but they still want people to blindly believe what they write in their blog posts and never question them or their readings. theres defo some readers with an ego the size of a football pitch fr.

i do find readings useful but if they start getting overly detailed. some write essays long responses when i think a short paragraph is good enough imho if theyre writing essay length reading it seems false at times. like what are they trying to prove? even if they write essay length readings they act like theyve got the idols talking directly too them, i also go in phases of believing tarot and not believing it because i know bloggers know what make people click and ask them such questions about someoen famous that they dont really know. i dont hate them as people i just never really agree with their way of going about it or more often how they fail to take on critique in a mature way even tho they say its just for entertainment many seem to take it too seriously themselves. i find it a bit iffy, almost egoistical like they have some type of inside info that others dont have even if its not truly always accurate. idk does any of this make sense? many didnt want to take accountability for peoples obsession with jungkooks future spouse nor people putting said thoughts in peopoes heads about who she my or may not be or when or how they may meet again its like im torn between being a curious nosy lil bugger myself or not asking out of respect for the idol incase they do come across such readings. i think 18+ readings are definitely more fake tho.

Oh, he knows about tumblr lol Everyone has a right to question readings and I am open for people to question mine. No one should take readings as fact or claim they are, sometimes I don't believe what I get myself lol Because these messages aren't really coming from me and messages can be misconstrued. I just interpret the messages and move on. I never hold on to what I get or even think about it too much, mostly forget lol

[fangtastic-vampyra]

Reaaally hate how it seems I have to be "watched" by people from the system the whole rest of my life.

It's MKULTRA MILBAS targeted individual stuff. You know the people that they go after?

Those that would stick their neck out for somebody else.

You know. Yes. So. I have to do a Stinkin' re-assessment sometime next week, ish, Im like "Im in for a life sentence. Schizophrenia gets worse when you get older. Very few people "get better" [or whatever they think] whatever that means, not understanding why I keep having to do a reassessment." I mean, I really hate Drs, of all kinds, I can take care of my Fecking self, and I want them to Bugger off in general. It was creepy asf. What is so hard to understand, stop thinking shit in my head, voices, v2k, and then, making me feel like shit with uh military, weapons? thennn tormenting me in my sleep. LIEK IF I FELT BETTER, I WOULD BE BETTER. a poisoned, drug, prescription or otherwise, filled body, with emo. pain, and trauma, and not enough healthy meals, and shit, prolly aint going to be around very long. plus parasites and what have you. I CAN BE A SCREET DR. JKKK. Just a herbal supplement recommender. :] {been studying those since I was 16, got a lot of time behind me on that particular interest, yah, thats why got me all into trouble, rebelling against norms, well if Punch Line really is my ..mm.. hear voices saying dont go out with her buut...what could i get out of it? it will probably, if i dont try, end up like harley and me, im fubar.. F.U.B.A.R.} And that? Was Mr and Mrs Smith.

And she mentions the Govt program medicaid enforces it every 6 months. I'm like nooooo. Even though I know it's fake, and thats fake, I have too much rage, to not be on meds, but I don't think they're quite ready to let me only be on one anti-"psychotic" umm Vraylar and Seroquel, are my two, and we lol we -- are doing great.

Yes Im a plural, also. DID... MPD.

Anyway-- I think I "actually am" schizophrenic.. Not just a Fake illness.. But Idk maybe it's just damage from previous incarnations. Some lady read my palms and said I was reincarnated. Neat.

Meanwhile, I've gotten into some sick sort of reminescensing/revenge thing. Prolly the first male "plague rat" -- Waheyyy. Emilie Autumn fan. They want them young, to study, and observe, if ya know what Im saying. AND. They dont like to let folks go. Once they have ya. Since these bastards, think they are some type of Woman Inspector. I dont want Pig Ass Hybrids for my kids anyway, fuck off. I am no longer young, and a Cantankerous ass bitch, and One day, THOSE Fuckers, are going to compensate me, for all my TBC, and everything else. TBC/Thought Broad Casting.

WTF..!! THEY CRASHED MY BROWSER, I HAD TYPED LIKE FIVE MORE PARA. Yes. they got access to my puter. UGH!!

WELL HOW ABOUT THAT.. AND....GAWDDAMN.

Note to self/other authors, authoresses: WRITE IN WORDPAD.

Or something similiar.. There use to be one that had a black background. White makes me feel like I got a lined loose leaf paper with no.2 in a uncomfy plastic chair. YES. UNCREATIVE. Like. In a fecking institution.

Uhm what had I said... Mum also said people get sacrificed to the devil a bunch more than most think. She's kinda uh weird. yes. Used to be into goth, and horror, and metal, when she was Younger, and witch craft, lord knows umm, now shes just, Blonde hair, blue eyes. And everything else, normal, she wants to be Barbie. IDEK, this Family wsa NOT ready. She was just another Handler, my dumb ass thought fighting, was the answer. I want to SUE the pants off MKULTRA ( and associations/etc, off them.) If you know what I mean. Abuse. Trauma. Mum says it happens to boys just as much. OHHH WELL. IDK about that. Shes just another brainwashed handler. Tho.. pretty insightful if you can actually get her to say anything. Lol we're munsters, I got out the sun synchronization, or something ugh.

Im just nursing a wound. Not caring about anything else, but trying to stop the pain. I dont uh see any point in living this way? My head is aching like someones been smashing rocks against my skull for the past hour. "Okay ill stop" Like they harass and make fun of me as AFAB UNDESIRABLE. Fat and whatever, though they did it um. And call me a he/she, they did that to. And I just uh, want to punch something in the face that something is God, Idk, until it stops moving. yes. then i can be god. >.> IDK, like whyyyy me.

Why all of this. WHYYYY.

He says we are all equal, he says his thoughts are higher than our thoughts, he says the enemies are not flesh and blood, but spirits. Yes. SAYS humans are more close to him than angels, says this and that, that we have power as humans over the animals, and the demons. idk. somethings not adding up. i think he's a f*cking rapist. celebrating the black majick curses he places onto children. a pervert, a predator. yes. i try. to calculate what is going on here, i hadnt known what i know now, i rebuke the thoughts i had as a child, the gnashing of teeth, in hell, and that, i dont want to end up there. AND? I think he's a bully. There's always been a man.. sigh.. tiresome.. voice over my shoulder harassing me.

WHAT I WANT: To be the Court leader of the Neutral guise. Or herd or pack or whatever. *LOL.*

What should my name be? Circe.

brendan used the word "blessed" in association with the amount of food we have. Im used to high quality meals, this is like, yuck, sort of. I wish I could remember shit, I want to give up. There are no plans, Im jsut saying "i want to" im tired of hurting, im tired of suffering, tired of aloneness, tired of rejection, maybe showing vulnerability will help? Why are men attacking me? Idk, i think they are scared of me.. Tbh. I will get my one desire, to be my true self. And theres nothing they can do about it." If " they try to mess it up, I have my ways.

{Wow, have the inkling of intimacy / u might be a d00d, on ur page, I MEAN, AMAB, and got scammers messaging me "hot photos" and shit lololol. Im too lazy to remove. if they're not a native English speaker, some of the messages are pretty funny...}

[anendofeverything]

Finnpoe Famous AU

Alternatively, the one where Poe is a popular musician and Finn is the actor hired to play his love interest in a music video

For @lucaslikesfish - I owe you so much for helping me while I worked on this!!!

POE DAMERON RELEASES NEW SINGLE + MUSIC VIDEO, ANNOUNCES TROUBADOUR SHOW

Poe Dameron was one of 2018’s biggest breakout stars with the release of his EP’s Millennium and Falcon, both of which followed a character named The Pilot. It was a fresh take on the singer-songwriter narrative, and Dameron’s rock-star swagger on stage helped the odd premise sell to the masses. 

2019 only saw a rise in popularity, supporting electro-pop band The Skywalkers on their UK tour and helping pen a number of songs on their sophomore album Force - which went straight to number one - including the first single from the album, Jakku, which features Dameron himself. In December he revealed in an Instagram post that he’d been working solidly on his debut album throughout the year, and announced it was set for release in March 2020.

“It’s called The Resistance,” he revealed, speaking to BBC Radio 1 DJ Annie Mac just before Christmas. “It’s a concept record, it’s the story I’ve wanted to tell for The Pilot since I came up with the character. Millennium and Falcon are his backstory, his origins - a prologue of sorts, I suppose. The Resistance is the real tale of the character.”

The same interview also gave listeners the world exclusive premiere of the first single from the album, Yavin 4, which Dameron said was originally intended to be on Falcon.

“I wrote everything that’s on Falcon while I was in Guatemala, which is my home country. Yavin 4 was very much inspired by my childhood, and in the context of the story it’s also about The Pilot’s early years as well. Sonically, though, it just didn’t fit with the rest of the EP.”

Yavin 4 marks a musical shift for Poe Dameron, more rock and roll, less folksy. The second single from the album, The Pilot, continues this shift into the rock genre, and the singer’s fans are clamoring for more (as are we).

And today’s the day.

The third single from The Resistance, titled FN-2187, and it’s music video dropped earlier today, and with it bring an unexpected element to the space opera narrative Dameron’s created - romance. Namely a romance between The Pilot - Dameron’s character - and FN-2187, a cyborg who saves The Pilot from being executed.

FN-2187 is being played by Finn Johnson, who starred as a British soldier, John, the lead character of last year’s post-World War Two drama For King and Country, which is nominated for two Oscars. Johnson announced on his Twitter that there was more to come from his time as the cyborg.

@finnfinnfinn: We actually shot two videos & there’ll be a third. You guys gotta bug @damneron_poe for details - I’ve been sworn to secrecy 👀👀👀

@damneron_poe: @finnfinnfinn who doesn’t love space gays??? 

Dameron also Tweeted that he’d be playing a show at the legendary Troubadour nightclub in West Hollywood on February 7th, a week before his first US headlining tour kicks off at the Whisky a Go Go on the Sunset Strip on Valentine’s Day with support from folk punk duo Fellow Pilots.

@damneron_poe: Excited to announce I’m playing @theTroubadour February 7th! Tickets on sale now!

@damneron_poe: Who’s coming to see me and @FellowPilotsBand on #TheResistanceTour next month? You might see @finnfinnfinn in costume.

The Resistance is set for release March 17th 2020

The Resistance Tracklist: Across the Stars (Intro) Yavin 4  The Pilot Rebel Alliance General Organa FN-2187 X-Wing (Interlude) Starkiller The First Order  Celestial  Final Mission  The Resistance Epilogue

Published January 24th 2020 by Rogue One Entertainment Magazine

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! A somewhat specific request, but do you know of any fics that include examples of/excerpts from Aziraphale and/or Crowley's paperwork for their respective Head Offices? Or just showing them in the process of writing reports, filling out forms, etc. I've read (and written) a few works along these lines, and would love to find more! Thanks so much.

Hello! Here are a few fics with a focus on the paperwork of Heaven and Hell’s bureaucracy...

Demon Resources by munchmulch (G)

It may be surprising to note that if you were to compare the Demonic-Resources Department with it’s angelic counterpart you'd find that DR is both more efficiently run, and brutally effective.

Currently, Crowley is in a meeting with their case manager.

1 Corinthians 7:9 by kiaronna (T)

“We have the forms, of course,” Gabriel sighs, rooting through his desk. “Haven’t had a reason to use them before, so they’re a bit covered in old dark matter, but—here we go.” He turns, and hands Aziraphale a stack of tan folders. “The non-disclosure agreement, the declaration of conflict of interest, all the relevant training modules for compliance, and more.” Aziraphale just stares. “What,” Gabriel says. “We’re a civilized, corporate organization. Did you assume we’d burn you in hellfire?” “A smidgen?” Gabriel laughs, claps him on the shoulder. “We’re going to do something much worse. The paperwork alone will take you centuries.” In which heaven is excessively corporate, and Aziraphale is trying to figure out how to explain to his one-sided crush that he needs Crowley’s signature on forms stating that they’re dating. Nothing stays the same.

Exit Interview by Pygmy Puff (G)

Crowley survives heaven's execution of Aziraphale. But he is not yet free to go.

-

“Aziraphale, you know the rules.”

His fake smile froze into something that probably made him look constipated. “T-The rules?”

“Yes, rules. We are, for all intents and purposes, terminating your employment contract with heaven. There is paperwork.”

“Paperwork,” Crowley repeated numbly. Oh bugger.

There Was Still Paperwork by DandelionDrabbles (G)

Crowley had departed after the offered lift home, leaving Aziraphale free to fall apart over his newfound realization.

...And that, of course, was when the MIF (Miracle Inquest Form) materialized on Aziraphale’s desk, his unscheduled miracle having been flagged for review.

Eleventh-Hour Arrangements by SparkKeyper (T)

Set in 1984. Heaven’s negligence leaves Aziraphale with a near-impossible deadline for submitting his annual report. Crowley steps in to help and together they hurry to meet the deadline and protect the Arrangement. 

A Change of Plans by AnonymousDandelion (G)

“Hey, angel. How’s it going?” “Tickety-boo,” Aziraphale lies. “And you?” “Same as ev—” Crowley comes the rest of the way into the back room, then halts, seeing Aziraphale hunched unhappily over his desk. “Hold up. What’s wrong?”

~ ~ ~

An unexpected notice from Heaven threw off Aziraphale's day — including his and Crowley's dinner plans. Crowley shows up anyway.

- Mod D

[fathermarty]

hi! i was wondering if you could write a sirius black x reader where spanish is the reader’s first languge and sirius didnt know but he absolutely loves the way she soeaks. thank you!

Soooo if my Spanish is wrong I AM SORRY! German is my second language so like for future reference if you want a german fic I can do that lmao. Anyway, I hope you like this!

Speak For Me || s.b.

Summary: Request above: Sirius finds out the reader, who he fancies, speaks a different language at home.

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Warning/s: I don’t speak Spanish, so this is probably going to be so wrong. I do speak German though, so German requests are welcome.

Word Count: 599

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

You are reading a letter from your mum when the marauder with messy black hair interrupts you.

“What language is that? It sure as hell isn’t English!” 

“Wow, Sirius Black you do have a brain!” Sirius scoffs as you fake applaud his obvious observation.

“What language is that? Can you even read it?” He asks as he looks over your shoulder at the letter.

“Oh my gosh Black, it’s Spanish! Spanish is my first language you nosey bloke.” You pause before looking at him again, “Do you even know which countries are Spanish-speaking countries?”

He stares at you for a second before replying, “Well-” Before he can even answer you stand up to walk away. Going to your next class.

“Y/n wait!” You don’t know why you stop in your tracks to let Sirius catch up but you do. “Can you speak Spanish for me, love?”

You roll your eyes, “Bugger off Black, you are so impossible.”

“Impossibly in love with you!” You cringe at Sirius, thinking to yourself that he has been hanging around James too much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The past week Sirius has been relentlessly begging you to speak Spanish for him. He will not take no for an answer, even when you hexed him with a muting spell he found a way to ask. This being a paper plane note saying “Please my Spanish beauty speak the language of love to me!” You were aggravated with the boy's antics but having his attention the way you did made you feel special.

The next day when you hexed Sirius it ended with both of you in detention with McGonagall that night. This meant the two of you were going to have to clean good ole Minnie’s items for two hours WITHOUT magic. If looks could kill Sirius Black would be six foot under twice over!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You arrived at detention before Sirius feeling absolutely defeated. You go ahead and get started on cleaning hoping that Minnie will let you leave earlier.

“Hello beautiful,” Sirius shouts as he bursts into the room.

He interrupts you before you can say anything, “Oh and hello y/n, fancy seeing you here.” He winks at you and gives you a cheeky grin. You feel yourself blush at the fact you thought he was calling you beautiful.

“Okay, Mr. Black you start over there,”

After 30 minutes of working without talking, McGonagall gets up and walks out, you knew Sirius was going to take advantage of that. “Sooooooo, how are you on this fine evening?”

You ignore his attempt to start a conversation but this seems to feed into his act more. “C’mon y/n, just one word. Please?”

“No!” You are unsure why you are being so difficult with this, maybe it was because you liked to make the Sirius Black beg?”

“Please?”

You ignore him.

“PLEASE Y/N! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!” You get annoyed by his incessant begging and snap at him.

“¡Idiota ignorante, eres tan molesto pero tienes suerte de ser lindo! ¡Quiero besar tu estúpida cara molesta!” (Literal translation: Ignorant idiot, you are so annoying but you are lucky to be cute! I want to kiss your stupid annoying face!)

Sirius is staring at you before he takes three quick strides over to you, he grabs you by your waist and plants a steamy kiss on your lips. 

“I have no clue what you said but you yelling at me in a language I don’t know is so fucking sexy. I couldn’t control myself any longer.” You couldn’t help but giggle as you remember what you yelled at him.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

This is my second to the last request. I am so excited to be caught up, work has been so demanding but I am grateful that you guys like my writing. The requests and sweet messages really make me happy. Sometimes when I am having a bad day I like to read the nice things you guys have to say.

[aephereal]

sherlock concept! how about something based around him and the reader being together secretly and someone else (john, mary, mycroft etc.) accidentally finds out? fluff or smut - whatever you’d prefer to write! as always, love your work <3

i do very much love this one, my favourite trope is secret relationships, especially for sherlock <3

masterlist

Being in a relationship with Sherlock was, for a lack of better words, difficult. Not that it wasn’t extremely rewarding, but there were times when it wasn’t easy to keep up with him.

One particular example of this is how secretive he had been at the start of your relationship. Not towards you, however; he had no problem opening up to you considering how long it took him to trust you enough to date you. More so towards his friends, who’s opinions he valued above all.

That was partly the problem - why didn’t he want to introduce you to them if he thought so highly of them? Thoughts started creeping in; maybe you weren’t good enough for him, maybe he thought it wasn’t going to be a long-term thing, so there was no point in you meeting them.

Months went by, and the longer this went on, the more annoyed you were beginning to get. He had started going to quite some length to ensure that you never accidentally ran into anyone he knew, and he instantly shut down when you tried to talk to him about it. But you persevered in the hopes that you were wrong in your assumptions.

One day, though, he happened to make a slight miscalculation concerning what time a one John Watson would be visiting with Mary and Greg.

You had been relaxing on the sofa in Baker Street, both of you reading with your back to his chest, your body between his legs. Close. Calm.

Until the front door opened downstairs.

Sherlock’s head shot up, and his body tensed immediately. You sighed, curiosity running through your mind as you wondered how he would deal with the situation. He could either hide you until he got rid of them, or he could just, simply, introduce you.

But, of course, you knew it wasn’t going to be that simple. However, what you weren’t bargaining on was Sherlock actually looking quite worried when you turned to look at him.

“Sherlock, what’s the matter? Please, why won’t you just tell me why you’re all skittish about this?” The man in question looked at you, and you could tell that he was trying to read you.

He finally sighed, dropping his head onto your shoulder so he could hide his face from you.

“I don’t want them to think that this is another one of my cases, like last time.” Your brows furrowed.

“Sweetheart, why would they think that if you explained to them that it wasn’t? I mean, it’s not like they didn’t know it was fake; this time is different.” As you finished, you could hear footsteps getting closer, so you untangled yourself from your boyfriend and stood up.

“Do we really have to do this? Can’t we pretend you’re my…I don’t know; apprentice?” You laughed incredulously.

“No, we cannot pretend that I’m your apprentice, you cheeky bugger. They’re nearly here, and they’re going to find out. You don’t even have to explain anything, I’ll just introduce myself and that’ll be that.” You held a hand out towards him, urging him to get up.

Reluctantly, he stood up just as the door to the front room opened, and you both turned to face the group of people.

“Ah, Sherlock, we hoped you were here. Got a case for you! I-“ John Watson paused for a moment as he realised you were standing next to his friend. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you already had a case.” Sherlock shook his head quickly.

“Ah, no, Y/N isn’t a case. John, Mary, Greg, this is my girlfriend.” You waved towards them.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, it’s nice to finally met you all!” At first, you could tell that none of them knew how to take this information, but Mary was the first to take action, smiling as she made her way across the room to hug you.

“Hello! God, I never thought we’d be meeting a partner of Sherlocks, but I’m so glad we are! I’m Mary,” She pulled away from the hug. “This is my husband, John, and that’s our friend, Greg Lestrade.” You greeted the two men.

“I’m sorry to change the subject, but this case is actually quite urgent,” Greg spoke, drawing Sherlock’s attention away from your introductions.

“Yes, of course. Information, then; what do we have?” As he passed you, you gave him a wink, receiving a one back as you sat down on the sofa with Mary, watching the boys get to work.

[2manyfandoms2count]

Alix's rom-com night

The June event of the @mlwritersguild was to create bonus content for one of our fics - I decided to seize the opportunity to finally sit down and write one of the bonus scenes of You can count on me (I will be there for you), and to do draw a bit of fanart to go with it (4 panels, including a Marichat piece)! Let me tell you that the Burrow is a pain to draw, but I'm actually quite proud of the result :)

About YCCOM: It's an aged-up, one-sided reveal with "fake" wedding fic, based on Sallteas' art. The fic is 9 chapters and 20k words long. It was written before season 4, so it's no longer canon compliant in terms of who knows who's identities at the beginning.

Synopsis: Ladybug's identity is compromised, and somebody is after her. After a lot of pondering, she and Chat Noir come to the conclusion that her best bet is for her to marry Adrien Agreste. It breaks her heart that she is not marrying Chat Noir, but she knows that she's buying them time to figure out who is behind the anonymous letters she's been receiving, and hopefully to find Hawkmoth. Whatever the situation might be, her wedding day should provide a moment of respite. And maybe it would have, had Chat Noir refrained from coming to visit her just before the ceremony...

About Alix's rom-com night: it's a one shot that's chronologically set before the main fic, but I recommend reading it after reading the latter since it contains spoilers for it. It follows Alix (obviously), and includes Ladybug revealing her identity to Chat Noir and the set up of their "fake wedding" plan.

Hope you enjoy!

---

Alix opened her door and dropped her keys in the bowl as she kicked off her shoes with a satisfied sigh. Home, sweet home.

Her studio apartment wasn’t very big, but then again, she didn’t need a huge surface when she had a whole extension waiting for her just a transformation phrase away. She’d mentally thanked Marinette more than once for choosing her to wield the Rabbit Miraculous, rather than somebody else, just for the savings she made in rent.

She whistled happily as she made her way to her kitchen area, grabbing a bag of popcorn out of a cupboard and shoving it in her microwave.

She deserved the treat. She’d been running around all week, trying to slide letters to her targets without being spotted, spending hours on end to find the perfect stationary, and then staying up at night to get the wording exactly right, a delicate mix of subtlety and threat to elicit some sort of response from them. It had taken a lot of trial and error, especially for Ladybug. Her friend had always been surprisingly oblivious on many fronts, and it seemed that her honeymoon phase with Chat Noir reinforced her optimistic ability to brush ominous details aside. It had taken three letters for her to start freaking out and to promise Tikki she would talk to her partner about them, whereas Hawkmoth had started the analysis phase upon the first one he’d received.

Alix had only been mildly surprised by the identity of their nemesis when she’d decided it was high time she knew who they were facing; it was all too fitting that the man who leached off Paris’ most intense negative emotions should be the most embittered person she knew, and the one who, in retrospect, had been the cause of many an Akuma (she still shuddered at the what-could-have-been of Chat Noir’s akumatisation).

The microwave dinged, bringing her thoughts back to her timeline. She took the bowl out and called for her Kwami.

“Fluff, clockwise! Burrow!”

A white portal appeared in the middle of her living space and she walked through it, emerging in the ovoid room covered in screens. She made her way to the furthest point, hung her umbrella up on the coathanger she kept in there, and grabbed a folding chair. It was a director’s seat which supposedly had belonged to a rising name in the cinema world before their career had been shot down for obscure reasons, but she didn’t really care about its story; she’d bought it for a very low price at a yard sale, and that was all that mattered to her.

“Right, where are you…” She muttered, scrutinising her surroundings, until she found the screen she was looking for.

She unfolded the chair, zoomed in on the empty (for now) rooftop, propped down in her seat and threw a fistful of popcorn into her mouth, waiting for the show to start.

Unsurprisingly, Ladybug was the first to arrive on the scene. She paced around, mumbling to herself as she wrung her hands together. Alix felt a pang of guilt as she watched her rehearse how she would break the news to her partner, but reassured herself that the ordeal would soon be over.

Finally, Chat Noir landed beside Ladybug, and she flung herself at him, holding him so tight he had to untangle himself from her arms to breathe.

“Well, well, well, my Lady, I know I couldn’t make it to patrol last night, but I didn’t think you’d miss me this much,” he chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Alix rolled her eyes at just how lovestruck he looked as he did so. How could her friends be so sappy, and yet still be at square one in terms of knowing who the other was?

Some might have said that it was romantic, that they loved each other regardless of who they were; but those people did not have to deal with the constant end of the world threat.

“What was so important that you couldn’t just text me?”

Ladybug took a deep breath. Her fingers slid along his arms as she relaxed her embrace, taking his hands in hers at the end of the line. “Somebody knows my identity,” she said quietly, looking down. “And I don’t know who they are.”

“What?!” Chat’s voice detonated in the previously peaceful quiet of the evening, making a couple of pigeons take off in a loud flutter of wings.

“I’m so sorry, I must have been careless when I got home one night, they must have seen me, I bet it was last week when I was tired and I-”

“My Lady, no offence, but I don’t care about the when and why, just... are you okay?” He tilted her chin up, gently turning her head to each side, checking for any signs of injury.

She placed her hand on his, making him stop, and gave him a soft, sad smile. “Yes, Chaton. Just a little rattled; you know you were the first person I wanted to reveal my identity to. Not including Bunnyx, although technically I never told her who I am.”

“And technically, I’m still the only person who knows who you are,” Bunnyx smugly commented between two handfuls of popcorn. “Now come on, I want to see how you react when you reveal your identities to each other.”

“How do you know somebody knows, though? And do you have any idea what their intentions are?”

Ladybug’s expression darkened. “I received some letters. They’re not signed, but they’ve got enough butterflies on them to make me think that even if they’re not from the biggest pest in Paris, then they’re probably from somebody who’s up to no good.”

Chat Noir swore under his breath, then regained his countenance. “So, what do we do now? Do you think we can hunt down the bugger?”

“We definitely will, but…” Ladybug bit her lip, and Alix leaned forward in her seat. This had to be it. ��Chaton, I think the time has come for me to tell you who I am.”

“YES! Finally!” Alix cheered, almost spilling her popcorn bowl.

“Are you sure, my Lady?” Alix didn’t have to be on site to tell that Chat Noir’s heart was beating faster than usual; the corners of his mouth twitched as he repressed a smile, as though his excitement could make her change her mind.

“Yes.” She nodded. “I really want you to know.” In case something happens to me, Alix was pretty sure her friend had left unsaid.

“Okay, okay.” Chat Noir took a deep breath, buzzing with anticipation, so much so that he apparently missed the whole subtext of her previous words. “Do you want to do this now? And how do you want to do it? Do you want me to close my eyes? Are you going to write it on a piece of paper for me to read? Are you going to detransform? Should-”

“I was thinking the latter, and yes, now,” Ladybug said timidly. “Up to you if you want to look or not.”

“For some reason, I feel like I shouldn’t.” He took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles without breaking their eye contact, then took another deep breath and closed his eyes, a blissful smile on his lips. “Ready when you are, my Lady.”

“Ok, here goes.” She let out a shaky breath and called off her transformation. The soft pink glow engulfed her and receded, her suit melting away to reveal her true appearance.

“Wow, Marinette, you actually broke out your favourite dress for this? Glad to see all of this isn’t affecting your ability to think straight.” Alix smirked. If her friend had gone home after a long, stressful work day, and found it in her to change and doll herself up to make a good impression on Chat Noir, things couldn’t be that bad. She had to agree that her dress, simple, white, with little red hearts embroidered on it, was perfect for the occasion, though.

“You can open your eyes now, Chaton.” Marinette gave his hands a squeeze.

Chat Noir obliged, blinking slowly as he took in her appearance, her identity, her. Marinette squirmed under his gaze, his expression not giving away any of his thoughts.

“H-Hi,” she stammered when she couldn’t take it anymore. “I, erm, I guess I should introduce myself? We’ve run into each other before, when we were younger, and even if you actually had lunch with my family that one time, I guess it’s been a while… My name is-”

“Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Chat’s smile finally broke free, spread from ear to ear, almost literally illuminating his face. Alix wondered if anything could ever wipe it off. Love and admiration twinkled in his eyes as he picked her up and started spinning her. Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling giddily, before Chat Noir closed the gap between their lips.

Bunnyx modestly looked away, allowing them to have their moment. Her eyes landed on a rerun of Plagg putting an end to the dinosaurs’ reign.

“I should have known that it was you, Princess.” Chat panted slightly as he carefully set Marinette back on the roof. “Everything makes so much more sense now, I-”

“Before you finish that thought, I can’t know your identity.” She placed her index finger on his lips. “Yet, of course.”

“What?” Chat froze, and so did Bunnyx, her hand pausing midway between the popcorn bowl and her mouth. “But why?”

“I don’t know what might happen to me, but I don’t want to put you in any danger.” Marinette cupped his cheek. “And I don’t want to lose my memories of you. Of us.”

“Oh for Kwami’s sake.” Alix rolled her eyes. “Boo!” She threw a fistful of popcorn at the screen as her friend continued to list all the reasons Chat couldn’t reveal his identity.

“My Lady, Marinette, if you’re worried about your safety, maybe we should do something about it. I could move in with you, or in a flat nearby, maybe, stay transformed or wear a mask at all times so you don’t know who I am, we can figure it out… Of course I know you can protect yourself, but I could stand guard while you sleep, or...” Chat raked his hand through his hair as he thought.

“You know I love you, Chaton, and that’s why I can’t let you do that! You can’t live like that, I can’t ask that of you. Not to mention how difficult it would be for me, do you really think I could resist having you so close, and not trying to get a glimpse of who you are?” She joked, trying to diffuse the sudden tension.

“Then we need to get you a bodyguard,” he insisted.

“I thought about it, but… Well, I can’t really afford it, and how could I justify suddenly needing personal security? I’m just a designer, and nothing I’ve ever done has been avant-garde enough that I should be worried about my safety.” She shook her head.

“Damn, I knew I should have targeted Chat Noir,” Alix swore under her breath. “He would’ve had to reveal his identity, and she definitely wouldn’t have been a pushover on her kitty’s protection matter. Come on Adrien, do something.”

She could tell that he was up to something just by looking at him. He’d been silent for a little too long for it to be natural. Cogs turned in his head, making him squint. He let go of her completely and paced around the roof, almost pulling his hair out as he did so. Alix sensed that whatever was on his mind was going to be big. She leaned forwards in anticipation.

Finally, Chat Noir came to a halt in front of Marinette, the fever in his eyes and his dishevelled hair making him look slightly unhinged.

“Buguinette, I think I’ve got a solution,” he whispered.

“You do?” Marinette’s voice was full of hope, although she looked slightly concerned about him.

“You’re probably not going to like it,” he warned her, lifting a finger.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” She shrugged, taking a step forward.

“Right.” He gave her one last look, an opportunity to stop him before the words tumbled out. She nodded encouragingly. “Okay, here’s the thing. I have it on very good authority that Adrien Agreste is being pressured into getting married by his father.”

“I see Gabriel’s just as delightful as always,” Marinette shook her head.

“Unlike good cheese, he definitely doesn’t get better with time.” Chat smiled bitterly, eyes losing focus a little.

“What’s it got to do with us, though?” Marinette prompted, placing a hand on his arm.

“Oh, Agreste, you absolute genius, I think I know where this is going.” Alix took another handful of popcorn.

“Oh, yes, right.” He cleared his throat. “See, Adrien’s not dating anyone at the moment…” Right, Alix snorted. “And he’s not really planning on starting a relationship with his father breathing down his neck, but, well, he happens to owe me a favour, and I’m sure that he’d be more than happy to put his security detail to good use…”

“So you’re suggesting that I marry Adrien.” Marinette deadpanned.

“Well, er, I actually thought you could just date, but thinking about it… It would be less strange for you to request a bodyguard if your relationship was more serious…” He trailed off.

Alix was impressed by how well he concealed his emotions. His poker face was truly exceptional.

“And you think Adrien would be ready to marry me because of a favour he owes you?” Marinette crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips and squinting at him as she tried to pick at his lie.

Alix winced for Chat. Maybe he should have waited a bit before blurting out the (as it turned out) probably only sane option in that situation so he could work out all of the details for himself. Marinette was very good at trying to shake plans to see how solid their foundations were.

“Please. Adrien had a crush on you when you were younger, if anything I could probably smuggle it as another favour, given how perfect the fake scenario would be. Although I guess that since you also liked him… It might just cancel out.” He tapped his lip pensively.

“Adrien had a crush on me?” Marinette frowned. “Oh, you must mean Ladybug. I think Nino mentioned it once.”

“Well, yes, but he also had one on you, Marinette.” Chat stepped forward, mischief twinkling in his eyes as he poked her on the nose.

“Really, now,” she muttered to herself.

“The main reason he didn’t act on it was that he thought you loved somebody else.” Chat smiled ironically.

“Wow, what a pair of idiots.” Marinette chuckled.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He kissed her forehead.

“But you know what?” Marinette didn’t pick up on her partner’s comment. “I’m actually glad we didn’t get together. It probably would have delayed us getting together.” She pressed a peck to his lips. “If we’d gotten together at all in that timeline.” She smirked.

Alix snorted. Out of all the timelines she’d watched unfold in an attempt to keep things in check, there wasn’t a single one where Marinette and Adrien, Ladybug and Chat Noir, didn’t end up together, and not just because of her interventions to help them, and the rest of the planet, stay alive.

Marinette’s face fell at Chat Noir’s lack of response. Alix knew her friend didn’t particularly believe in soulmates, but she understood that she would have liked a sappy Chat Noir special comment on how he’d told her he’d grow onto her anyway, and that she would have soon discovered that the Agreste boy had nothing on him. She assumed that he was too busy restraining himself from saying the wrong thing.

“Actually… What about us, then?” Marinette cleared her throat and looked up at him, eyes glistening slightly in the half light.

“My Lady… If you really think that you being a divorcée will spur me away…” Chat Noir looked down at their entwined hands, locks of blond hair falling in front of his eyes, concealing his giddy smile from her. You sneaky cat, Alix thought.

Marinette followed his gaze, letting out a long sigh as she watched their hands sway lightly. Alix knew her brain was probably trying to find all the flaws in the plan. She crossed her fingers, hoping that it would be enough for her friend to accept. It was perfect, whether they got their act together and figured everything out before the event, or not.

“Fine,” Marinette finally said with resolve, making Alix mentally thank whoever was out there. “I’ll do it on two conditions.”

“Anything, my love.” Chat let out a sigh of relief.

“Firstly, we’re honest with Adrien from the get go. No lying about anything.” Chat nodded along. “Secondly, we get cracking on finding Hawkmoth, and after we do and the divorce is settled, if we even get that far with Adrien because obviously if everything is settled before the wedding we won’t be going through the whole plan…” Chat smiled fondly as she took a deep breath. “After all that, we are getting married.” She gestured between the both of them.

“My Lady, are you proposing to me right meow?” Chat Noir all but purred.

“I guess so.” Marinette shrugged, a smile and a blush spreading on her cheeks.

“Wow, then, I’m definitely putting Adrien in charge of the proposal planning,” he replied with a smirk.

“Chaton!” She stomped her foot, her mildly amused smile cancelling out her frown.

“What?” He teased her.

“Will you? Marry me?” She held his gaze.

“Do you even have to ask?” He chuckled. “You know, my Lady, I’m pretty sure that, in my head, we’ve been married since that speech you gave on the Eiffel Tower during our very first fight. Well, I’ve been married to you; you do whatever you please.”

“You’re such a dork,” Marinette laughed, brushing her nose against his and throwing her arms around his neck.

“And yet you still love me.” He pulled her closer.

“Unfortunately, I do,” she sighed dramatically before pressing a kiss to his lips.

Alix dismissed the screen. She’d seen what she wanted, and it seemed like a good place to stop; a happy, sappy ending. Also, she’d finished all of her popcorn.

Everything was on track, her friends would start their Hawkmoth hunt, and soon everybody in Paris would be able to live without fear of their own negative emotions.

(Of course, that was the theory; she’d soon find out that she’d underestimated Adrien’s will to organise the perfect wedding for Marinette, and that, my friends, was no small oversight.)

[emptysatellite]

fool for love

Ao3

James never thought he’d be rendered speechless. He’d always been able to talk back to his professors, jest with his friends in between classes, and confide to his parents about his greatest hopes and dreams without any problems.

But Lily Evans―that beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted, loyal witch―could do it to him every time she opened her pretty lips.

Before sixth year, she’d usually say something like, “did you shit your nappy, Potter?” or, “get your head out of your arse, Potter,” or, “Potter, bugger off,” and James would let his jaw drop for a split second before responding with something like, “nah, did you shit yours, Evans?” or, “not until you get your head out of your arse, Evans,” or, “Evans, you know you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

It was always a competition, those first five years, of who could annoy each other more (although, James always thought it was the peak of flirtation, while Lily, well, she was just retaliating from his immature behavior).

James would also attempt to ask out the girl with flaming red curls, but she always shook her head and faked gag, or went on a spiel about why he was such an idiot, or simply rolled her eyes and stalked away.

Everything changed in sixth year, when Lily became less hostile and more friendly towards James. He assumed it was because of the Snape shit that had occurred the year previously, but James didn’t care because he got to see Lily smile more often and that alone made butterflies flutter in his stomach.

He would still pause momentarily after she spoke to him, saying stuff like, “nice match today, Potter,” or, “do you want a sugar quill, Potter,” or, “Potter, truth or dare?” and be able to formulate an adequate response like, “cheers, Evans,” or, “I think you already know the answer to that question, Evans, yes,” or, “Evans, I’m not a coward so obviously dare.”

They had become friends. They sat close to each other in class, traded desserts at dinner, did a handshake before Quidditch matches, amongst other platonic pleasantries.

Due to this newfound relationship, James stopped asking Lily out on dates, not wanting to make her uncomfortable or ruin the friendship that was growing stronger every day.

Sixth year came and went much faster than James would have wished and, before he knew it, he was parting from Lily. He gave her a long hug, promising to write to her; she promised the same and Lily never broke a promise, ever.

Lily was the first person James told when he was appointed Head Boy and James was the first person Lily told that she received a letter from Dumbledore stating she was Head Girl. Lily was the first person James told that Sirius had officially broken away from his horrible family and James was the first person Lily told that her older sister was getting married to Vermin Dursley. Lily taught him about the Muggle traditions he’d never learn in Muggle Studies and James taught her all about the Ministry she’d never learn in Professor Binns’ History of Magic class.

“I miss you, Potter,” she had declared in one letter. “Your jokes could always brighten my day.”

They were writing non-stop and, by the time school finally rolled around, James had a feeling everything would be different.

Why did he get that feeling? Well… James didn’t really know why he got that feeling, he just knew that he felt it and it was true.

He explained the whole situation to Sirius at breakfast, the morning they left for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

“Uh-huh, that sounds nice, mate,” Sirius barely looked up from his Vogue magazine, popping a chilled grape into his mouth.

“Did you even listen to me?” demanded James, raising an eyebrow.

“Eh, a little,” he shrugged. “All I really heard was the beginning… about how you had a dream about the future. I stopped listening there, because, in all honesty, you were never really good at Divination.”

“It’s not Divination, because I wasn’t foreseeing the future.”

“You said that everything would be ‘different’ this year,” Sirius finally looked up. “First, it sounds so spooky and ominous, for no reason at all. And second, that’s basically seeing the future.”

“I didn’t say that everything would be different, I said that I feel like everything will be different this year.”

“That’s the same thing, is it not?”

“No, it’s not,” James shook his head, “one is confirmed, one is up in the air.”

“Okay…” Sirius’ voice trailed off as he glanced back down at his magazine.

James just stared at his best friend for a few seconds and, once he realized Sirius was too enamored with the horoscope section to pay attention to him, finished eating his syrup soaked pancakes.

At Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, James and Sirius bid adieu to Mia and Monty, who both had tears in their eyes for their grown up boys, and stepped onto the train with unmatched confidence.

“Want to sit in our normal compartment?” Sirius asked.

“Of course,” James nodded, following his friend to the fateful compartment where they’d met for the first time in seven years previous. They’d entered through the sliding glass doors to see Remus and Peter already settled in, an arrangement of sweets spread along the table.

The gaggle of boys greeted each other and had already fallen into a quick conversation regarding their annual back-to-school prank when the compartment door slid open and four girls walked in.

“Hey, boys,” Lily said at once, Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary following closely behind.

“Ah, there’s our stunning Head Girl,” Sirius motioned to the pin on her jumper, which read in red ‘Head Girl’.

She grinned and looked at James, “and there’s the Head Boy!”

James smirked, doing a dramatic ballerina twirl. “Do I look like a brand-new person? More mature? More dashing?”

“No,” Mary replied, bluntly.

“Sorry to say, but you look like the same prat you’ve always been,” Remus slapped a hand on James’ shoulder.

“My friends have wounded me,” he fanned the back of his hand over his forehead, dramatically, as though he were in a Muggle theater production. “I don’t think I’ll ever recover.”

“Oh, come off it, James,” laughed Lily.

That simple sentence caused James to drop his hands to his side, hazel eyes locked on her green ones. “Huh?” he questioned, thinking that he must have misheard the girl he had loved since he was eleven.

“I only said to come off it,” she repeated, tilting her head in confusion.

“No, that wasn’t it,” he whispered, voice soft around his loud friends who had moved to another conversation, “you called me James.”

“That’s your name.”

“You’ve never called me James before, though.”

“I just thought it was time to change that. We’ve been friends for a while now and friends call each other by their given names, right?” replied Lily.

James broke eye contact and turned his head away. “Yeah,” he said at last. “You’re right.”

Lily’s eyes scanned his face, searching for something James didn’t know. She eventually tore her gaze away, drawing her attention to Remus, who had offered her a Bertie Bott’s jelly bean.

He didn’t talk to her the rest of the train ride, remaining unusually silent. Even when he and Lily had to leave their friends’ compartment to inform the Prefects of their duties that year, James was still quiet, allowing Lily to do all the speaking.

After Lily’s brief introduction speech, she tried to talk to James, but he ignored her. His mind was flooding with thoughts.

Was she mad at him or something? Was she trying to taunt him by calling him James instead of the usual ‘Potter’? He was sure that she still knew of his feelings for her, so was she attempting to play with his emotions?

The Hogwarts Express finally arrived at the infamous school of witchcraft and wizardry and, before they knew it, the group of Gryffindors were entering the Great Hall.

James sat down next to Sirius, as per tradition. Lily sat down next to him.

“Are you alright?” she asked, voice lowered to a whisper .

“Yes, Evans, I’m fine,” he snapped a response, turning towards the front of the Great Hall, where all the professors were congregating.

“James,” Lily said simply, taking his hands into hers.

Her hands were soft and flawless, unlike his own, that were rough and calloused, and it took everything in him to not give into her hardened glare that was directed at him.

“What, Evans?” demanded James.

“Come with me.”

“Professor Dumbledore will be up soon to speak. We should stay and listen; it may be important this year.”

“We won’t be long,” she insisted. “I’m sure we’ll even be back in enough time to hear him talk. Just please come with me, I’ve been wanting to talk to you alone all day.”

That got to James and he let himself be pulled out of the Great Hall by her. She led him out of the room and down the wide corridor, avoiding underclassmen, who were practically buzzing in anticipation for the new school year and the grand feast that awaited them in mere minutes.

“Here,” Lily stopped suddenly, twisting open a bronze doorknob to reveal an empty classroom that looked as if it hadn’t been used in years, desks and chairs covered with linen. She closed the wooden door behind them, letting go of James’ hands. “What’s wrong with you?” Lily crossed her arms.

James raked a hand through his hair. “That’s awfully rude of you, Evans, to assume that something’s wrong with me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m your friend, James, I know when something’s not okay with you.”

He froze. “Can you stop saying that, please?” he asked.

“What am I saying wrong?” asked Lily.

“My name,” said James.

“Are we not friends or something and I just didn’t get that memo?”

“No, we are friends.”

“Then why, James, why am I not allowed to say your name like the rest of your friends?”

“Because you’re different.”

“How so?”

“I don’t love my other friends like I love you,” he said at last. “You’re… special.”

Lily blinked, her expression unreadable. She just stared at James before taking a deep breath, stepping towards him.

Her lips grazed his and sparks flew. James immediately responded to their brief touch and he grabbed her waist, tugging her forward, pressing her chest to his own. They interlocked their lips like they’d been snogging for ages, like their passion had been rooted for ions and not mere school terms. They kissed like it’d be their last time seeing one another, like they were to go off to battle the next day.

Lily pulled away first, leaving them both gasping for air. “James,” she said, “I don’t love my other friends like I love you, either. My feelings are so beyond just loving you as a friend. I love you, James Potter. You’ve captured my heart and I don’t want you to let go.”

“Lily, you’ve had my heart since first year,” he replied. “Merlin, I love you like no one else in this world.”

She looked downwards. “I thought your feelings for me were gone. That they’d been gone since fifth year and I was loving you in vain.”

“No, that could never be true. My feelings for you will never fade,” James placed a hand under her chin, lifting it high enough for their lips to touch again.

This time the kiss was soft, less desperate. It was still emotional, yes, but not as hungry; they knew this wouldn’t be their last kiss, that they weren’t losing time.

They broke away from one another. Neither spoke, instead just smiling.

James was speechless again and realized that if he never spoke again at least he’d have Lily by side.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hey, I love your writing! Could you please write one where it’s slytherin! Sirius and gryffindor!james. Can you make it that they find out their mates like they have creature inherences ( since their both pure bloods). At Hogwarts btw if it was unclear. Don’t feel pressured to write this if you’re busy.

((A/N: I’ve never written creature inheritance before, so it’s a little choppy))

Personally, Sirius thought this whole thing was a load of shite. Not like it was fake, because it was definitely real, but it was an absolute pain in the arse. It was going through puberty again, and he'd hated it the first time, thanks. And also? This was worse. He felt like a bloody toddler again, unable to control his magic. It's not like it was lashing out at random or summat, but his spells rarely turned out the way he wanted. Too much power or not enough, and he never knew which way it would go.

Regulus kept assuring him that he'd be ecstatic when he finally settled and got his creature inheritance, but Sirius would prefer to just be comfortable now. Besides, the only creature in the Black line was Veela. Sirius had too many people staring at him without adding a magical element to it. Did he mention the whole process was shite? Because it was. In addition to his magic not responding like it should, his entire scalp itched and his eyes responded to any big change in lighting with pain and his gums ached like a fucker. It made eating ridiculously difficult, and it had been that way for three weeks straight. It was supposed to all even out on his birthday, but that didn't make it any less miserable to live through.

He would love to commiserate about it with someone, but there were only a few other people in Hogwarts that had the possibility for a creature inheritance, and he wasn't exactly friends with any of them. He wasn't friends with anyone other than Regulus actually, so commiserating-- if it was going to happen at all-- would have to wait a few years.

When Sirius got his creature inheritance-- gasp! Veela! what a surprise!-- he walked into the Great Hall and wanted to walk right back out again. He didn't really know how to control the allure. Make that, the allure was running rampant and he couldn't make heads or tails of it-- the fire throwing part had been easy; he hadn't even had to practice-- but even that wasn't enough to make him want to leave. He took one glance at the Gryffindor Table, saw one James Potter, and realised there was a connection.

His parents had sent him a book about Veela inheritances when he started showing signs, and there had been a section on mates. Recognizable on sight. And that's what James Potter was. Sirius had two words for that: 'hell' and 'no'. It's not like Potter was bad looking or an unforgivable arse, but he didn't exactly like any Slytherins, and Sirius was one. He knew that mates weren't something that could be avoided, but how the hell did he explain that to Potter? 'Hi, I know the most time we've spent together was in detention from hexing each other for like, the entirety of fourth year, but you're bloody gorgeous and also we're mates? Wanna hook up sometime? Maybe spend the rest of our lives together?' Yeah. That wouldn't go well.

Sirius wished he could leave-- after all, who needed breakfast every single day?-- but there were appearances to keep up, and everyone would give him shite if he left right now. He was supposed to not act any different now that he had his creature inheritance. He was supposed to pretend he felt the same and didn't think he was better than anyone and all that rot. Nevermind that Sirius had thought he was better than everyone else from the age of five.

He didn't bother to keep in a sigh as he walked to the Slytherin Table.

"What?" Regulus asked, because of course Regulus was with him-- just to be clear: not complaining.

"Everyone's staring."

"Of course they are. You're the first wizard to get a creature inheritance at Hogwarts in the last decade."

"Hooray," Sirius said flatly. "I'll just pose for photos then, shall I?"

"There's no need to be a prick."

"How long have you known me?"

Regulus rolled his eyes, which was pretty much the response that Sirius had expected.

*

Sirius might have stared at James. A lot. It wasn't his fault, okay? There was no ignoring your magic screaming at you to go be with someone, but Sirius refused to give in so easily-- just to give him something to do, his classes were kind of boring right now.

So he stared, but he didn't talk to James. Maybe he should make friendly chit-chat between classes so that they had a foundation other than rivalry and the other person being gorgeous. And okay, it's not like they were total strangers, but being friendly with each other wasn't something they were familiar with. Like he said, rivalry. 

He got caught by James one time in the corridor, but he didn't bother to pretend like he hadn't been staring. It was only the two of them, after all. An empty corridor was a rare thing this close to the Great Hall, but not so surprising this time since it was dinnertime. They were probably the only people not eating right now.

"Is there a reason you're looking at me all the time?" James asked.

"Yes," Sirius said and didn't elaborate.

As expected, James looked bewildered. "Are you going to tell me why?"

"No. What were you in the library for?"

"Books," James said. He was trying to make his voice flat, but it was obvious to Sirius that he was hiding something.

He cocked his head curiously-- an unfortunate habit he'd picked up since his creature inheritance, replacing his usual skeptical eyebrow raise. "For what?"

He shifted, holding his bag tighter like he thought Sirius would snatch them from three meters away. "Nothing," he muttered unconvincingly.

"C'mon, who am I going to tell?"

"Stop mocking me."

"I wasn't aware that was something I was doing."

James glared at him.

It was probably the mate part of him that found it attractive, but Sirius had never had the smartest taste when it came to men. "Honestly. It was an innocent question."

"So you weren't staring at me because you... y'know, know?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sirius said honestly.

James sighed, relaxing from the somewhat rigid posture he'd been holding. "That's good. Or- I guess bad? If you knew, I could ask- but no, we're not friends."

"What's got you in a spin?"

James chewed on his lip.

Sirius's heart beat a little harder in his chest at seeing that-- his imagination was more than happy to provide him with ideas about James's mouth-- but he was going to ignore that for the moment. There were more pressing matters, like what the hell James was talking about. "Honestly, who would I tell?"

"Your brother."

"Right, but who would he tell?" Regulus didn't have any friends either. Their parents had made a point to tell them that they could only trust family, and now look at them. "And who would care?"

"Most people care about creature inheritances. You should've heard the way everyone fawned over you when you presented."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, I have eyes, love; I'm well aware of how much attention people were paying me." Then, because it was more important, he said, "So that's what this is? You're coming into a creature inheritance too?"

"No," he said instantly, then he shifted. "Maybe. I dunno, that's what the books are for. I thought you could, like, tell from looking at me or summat."

"I don't have a creature sensor."

"Well how was I supposed to know that?" James asked defensively. "Nobody knows anything about creature inheritances unless they have it, and then they keep it in the family because it's personal. It's not like I could just ask you."

"Couldn't you ask your parents? Like you said, it's a family matter."

"There's no history of it in the Potter line. Whoever was a creature that married in? They never recorded it. I went over the bloody family tree with a fine tooth comb, and I came up blank."

"I don't know how much help I'd be. Different families, different creatures," Sirius said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall.

"I don't need specifics, but- Merlin, did it buggering itch like this for you? I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin."

"Can't say that happened to me, no. Mostly it felt like my teeth were about to fall out."

"Right," James said, nodding, "Veela have fangs."

Sirius cocked his head again. "Most people don't know that." 

James blushed. It wasn't very noticeable, but Sirius had eyes on him-- he had a theory that he had enhanced eyesight specifically when it came to his mate, but there was nothing to verify that; it just felt like he was capable of noticing more about him since becoming a creature. "I've done some research."

Sirius hummed, smiling.

*

"Nice wings," Sirius said, trying to keep from looking overly delighted.

One of James's wings snagged against a suit of armor because he'd been walking too close to the wall. "They're a pain in the arse," he muttered, flushing bright red as he tried-- and failed-- to get himself out.

Sirius walked over and stepped behind him. It was a lot easier to do it from this angle. Push, nudge, and he was free. "I kind of thought your wings would be red."

James turned to face him, and Sirius had to step back or risk getting hit in the head with a wing. "Why? Because I'm in Gryffindor?"

"That, and because you look so good in it. I'm not sure black is your colour."

"I look great in black, and you know it," James said.

He did, but Sirius wasn't about to say that. "Do these things not go away?" Sirius asked, looking at the wings curiously. This was the first time he'd seen him since his birthday, and it was no exaggeration to say that James had never looked better. Ill-coloured wings aside. It's not like the black feathers made him look bad or summat, but red would look better.

"If they do, I haven't figured out how." Then James squinted at him. "Did you change your hair?"

"No? It's the same it always is." Which is to say, fabulous. But he hadn't changed it at all. When he'd become a Veela- oh, maybe that's what it was. It had looked different to him in the mirror after that, but Regulus had said he didn't notice anything. "It did change on my birthday though. Maybe you can finally see it."

James reached out, strands of Sirius's hair sliding through his fingers. "It's beautiful," he breathed.

"I get that a lot," Sirius managed to say while sounding normal, but all he wanted to do was step closer and lean into it.

*

Unsurprisingly, James was the one to kiss him first. Sirius kept wanting to, but he also kept chickening out. So it wasn't really a surprise that James made the first move. What was a surprise, was about a month into their relationship-- still a month away from the end of the school year-- and James stopped a rather delightful snog to say, "Does this seem kind of sudden to you?"

"Er, no, we had to sit through like ten hours of class in order to get here."

James chuckled, pressing leisurely kisses to his cheek and down his neck. "No, I mean..."

"You mean?" Sirius prodded when he didn't continue, running his hands down James's back and into his wings. His fingers worked on straightening his feather automatically.

"I dunno. Like, I always fancied you, but after my creature inheritance, it's like I couldn't take my eyes off you."

"I know what you mean. Probably the whole 'mate' thing."

Abruptly, James stopped what he was doing and tilted his head up to look at him. "What mate thing?"

"That creatures have." When James still looked confused, he added, "Because we're mates?"

"Like... soulmates?"

"I guess? There wasn't a whole lot of information about it in the books my parents sent me. I don't think they thought I'd meet my mate at Hogwarts." Sirius snickered. "Their heads would explode if they knew it was you."

"Wait," James said, sitting up, "you knew about this?"

"Er, yeah?"

"Since your birthday?"

"Yeah."

James looked upset, which Sirius didn't understand in the slightest. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Sirius sat up when it was clear that James wasn't willing to let this slide. "Because we weren't exactly friends? You say that you fancied me back then, but it sure as hell didn't look like it. What was I supposed to do? I wasn't going to walk up to you and say we were destined for each other. You would've hexed me."

"I would not have."

"Sure," Sirius said flatly.

"Alright, so I might have overreacted if you told me, but it's not like you wouldn't have too in my place."

"Is there a reason this is bothering you?" Sirius asked. "It all worked out. I didn't trick you into anything by not telling you."

James opened his mouth to answer, then paused and frowned. "That's true," he said, sounding a touch bewildered. "I mean, this goes both ways, doesn't it? You didn't tell me, and I didn't tell you when I first noticed something was going on so..."

"So we can keep kissing?" Sirius said hopefully.

"You're so bloody weird."

"That sounds like a yes."

James snickered. "It's a yes."

*

"Woah," James said, eyes wide.

Sirius may or may not have snarled unkindly at being woken up before he was ready. "Sorry," he muttered. It was a gut reaction to flash his fangs when he wasn't happy, and when he was tired, it just sort of happened. He yawned, fangs retracting.

"I didn't know you could do that."

"Mm."

"Really though, you have to get up. You'll get caught if you leave any later."

"Don't care," Sirius said, snuggling his face into the pillow.

"You told me to make sure you get up."

"Past-me was an idiot."

"I trust past-you more than tired-you."

Sirius opened one eye to glare at him. When that did nothing, he turned to pouting. "Are you really going to throw me out?"

"Using your allure is A. cheating and B. not going to work."

"I should date someone who's nicer to me," Sirius grumbled, slowly pushing himself up with another yawn.

James snorted. "You have fun with that." He nuzzled at Sirius's cheek before giving him a quick kiss.

[hermannsthumb]

Please write 20 (just dumped by partner before the holidays, please be fake partner I'm desperate)

20. i’ve spent the last nine months telling my family about my amazing partner and they just dumped me before the winter break; please be my fake partner

from winter writing prompts here

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

It’s a rare occasion upon which Hermann admits to himself that he could use a shoulder to cry on. It’s an even rarer occasion when that shoulder happens to belong to Newton. Though, strictly speaking, he’s not actually crying. Just…feeling exceedingly miserable. For a very good reason. He’s not actually on Newton’s shoulder, either, though he is sitting on the edge of Newton’s bed in Newton’s Shatterdome quarters, with Newton’s spare blanket wrapped around him.

“So he dumped you?” Newton says.

“No,” Hermann says. “Don’t be so…prosaic. He, er, simply expressed to me that our relationship was not working out, and that we should consider ending it to pursue better alternatives, and I agreed. It was wholly mutual. It was mature.”

“He dumped you, dude,” Newton says.

Hermann sighs, and hides his face in Newton’s blanket.. “He did.”

The worst of it is that Hermann isn’t even upset about Oliver breaking up with him for the reasons he should be upset. He’s not here in Newton’s bunk wailing about not knowing where it all went wrong (he does know), or wishing he’d asked for a second chance (he doesn’t), or simply mourning the loss of a healthy, long-term relationship (well, it wasn’t unhealthy). He’s in Newton’s bunk because he knows his family is going to be horrendously disappointed in him. “You don’t understand,” Hermann moans. “He’s the son of my father’s colleague—my family were all so very pleased when we began seeing each other. He was meant to meet my grandmother, Newton.”

“Ouch,” Newton says. He pats Hermann’s shoulder. His touch is warm, and strong. Newton’s hands are always so warm and strong. “That’s rough. But, hey, other fish in the sea?”

(“I’m sorry, Hermann,” Oliver had finally said, after a spectacular failure of a date, in which Hermann confused Oliver’s favorite dish with Newton’s at the restaurant, and, er, perhaps called out the wrong name during their more intimate coupling in Hermann’s bunk later. “It’s blatantly obvious you have some weird, unresolved feelings for your lab partner, and I’m not going to stick around for you to figure them out. Maybe you can take him home to meet your parents instead.”

“Blatantly?” Hermann had squeaked.)

“Yes,” Hermann says. “Er. I suppose.”

Hermann (having no one else to turn to) showed up at Newton’s door immediately after Oliver packed up his simple overnight bag and stormed out of the Shatterdome, promptly ending what was meant to be their weekend together and their relationship. Newton (in pajamas, clearly just woken up from sleep) had been so kind, showing him to the unmade bed, plying him with a lukewarm cup of fruity tea, spouting all the sorts of things that a friend was meant to spout (he’s not worth it, you’re better than him, want me to key his car for you?). Hermann had never seen him exhibit that sort of kindness before. It made his heart flutter, and his chest tight, and—oh, bugger. “No, it’s not that,” Hermann says. “It’s that they think I’m bringing him home in a week. They’ve got the guest room made up for us and everything. I’m fairly certain Mother has already made a place card for him at the dinner table.”

“So?” Newton says. “Just break the news tomorrow that you’ll be solo. Better sooner than later, man.” He frowns. “Your mom makes place cards?”

“The only reason I’m going home is for them to meet him!” Hermann half-shouts. Months upon months of feeding them stories about Oliver, lies about Oliver—about how charming and intelligent he was, and what a marvelous match they were, and how pleased Hermann was that father suggested he engage Oliver’s company in the first place—all so they’d stop prying into his bloody personal life—of course it was bound to backfire. 

“Then don’t go home,” Newton says. “Holy shit, dude, you’re making this a way bigger deal than it needs to be. Either tell them you guys split and it’s just you this year, or don’t go at all.” He yawns, and does a poor job of pretending he’s not sneaking a glance at his Godzilla alarm clock. Two in the morning; Newton makes a habit of getting to the lab at six. Hermann is being rather discourteous keeping up so late, isn’t he? Though it really was kind of Newton to comfort him the way he did. Newton can really be considerate, when he tries—considerate, and caring, and such a good friend to Hermann. Hermann’s only friend, who none of his family have ever met, or would recognize, just as they wouldn’t recognize Oliver…Newton, who’s American like Oliver…who’s brunette like Oliver...who wears glasses like Oliver...

“Er, Newton,” Hermann says. He touches Newton’s hand. “What are your holiday plans?”

Newton is a bundle of erratic motion during the taxi ride from the airport to the Gottlieb family farmhouse: his leg bouncing up and down, his fingers tapping on it, his eyes darting constantly between Hermann, the driver, and the German countryside. Even his voice trembles when he speaks. “This isn’t going to work,” he mutters to Hermann. He shakes his head. “It’s not, it’s not.”

(“They’ve never met him,” Hermann had said, “and they’ve certainly never met you! You could easily pass yourself off as him!”

“There is no fucking way your dad hasn’t Googled me by now,” Newton had said. “Or do you not remember when that reporter asked me about the wall last spring?”)

Really, there’s no need for Newton to be this nervous. At the very worst, they’re found out, and Hermann is utterly humiliated, but Newton will be walking away all but unscathed. He’s not the one trying to pass off his lab partner as his partner partner to his family, after all. “It will,” Hermann tells him calmly. He reaches over and smooths out the lapels of Newton’s good suit. It’s stiff, and smells faintly of dust; Hermann wonders how long it’s been hanging in the back of his closet. He cuts a nice figure in it. “Right,” Hermann adds, before his mind can wander too far. “Now, remind me again who you are?”

Newton looks vaguely green in the face, and he swallows twice. “I’m…Oliver,” he says. “I’m the son of your dad’s old friend. I recently relocated to Hong Kong for work. I’m an engineer. I like yoga, and...baseball?”

“More or less,” Hermann says. The baseball part may be an embellishment, but he knows Oliver played some sort of sport.

He reaches out and smooths down Newton’s hair this time. His glasses are crooked, but there’s not much to do for that; besides, it makes him look oddly charming, like Oliver is supposed to be. Newton, to his surprise, goes pink in the face. “Uh. Can you give me anything else to go on?” he says. “I feel like I’m not getting enough into character. Like, what’s Oliver’s favorite color? Is he a cat person? Coffee or tea? Boxers or briefs?”

“Well,” Hermann says. “I. Er.” He shifts in his seat. Embarrassingly enough, he doesn’t know. “Just because Oliver and I dated for...half a year, or so,” he continues, “doesn’t mean we knew everything about each other. I think you’d be hard-pressed to get him to answer those questions about me, too. It’s nothing—”

“Do I wear boxers or briefs, Hermann?” Newton says.

“Boxers,” Hermann says automatically.

Newton stares at him. Hermann flushes.

“Oh, that’s not fair,” Hermann says. “You have to use the bloody decontamination shower every other—”

“Kinda feeling like maybe he wasn’t the neglectful one in the relationship, dude,” Newton interrupts. “Alright, God, let’s get this over with. You owe me big time.’

[prose-for-hire]

Life’s not a movie

Pairing: Spike x fem!chubby!reader

Request: Hello if your requests are still open...how about spike with a chubby reader who is 24 and still a virgin and she is shy and depressed but tries to hide it by acting happy go lucky. She loves his poems and is a good friend to him but she secretly loves him and she finally confesses her feelings to him and he kisses her and it's her first kiss? Maybe they are having a night out as friends which turns into a date when she tells him, and that's how they end up kissing?

Requested by: Anon

A/N: Hey, so I wanted to simplify reader’s personality a little because not everyone will be able to access something so specific. 

Warnings: Mention of sex. I’ve written her a little insecure about her weight (only vaguely mentioned once) and being a virgin/having not kissed anyone (hope that’s okay).

💖 Don’t worry if you haven’t had these experiences yet either, everyone has their own time for everything !! 💖

You and Spike were walking from opposite directions, with the other on your minds. Things with Spike were nice, he made you feel more human. Which, of course was ironic, because he wasn’t even a little bit human. In physicality, at least.

You smiled when you saw him, giving him a little wave. He enjoyed the way your chubby form didn’t appear to make you second-guess yourself. You appeared confident and more so when he was by your side. He especially liked the way you lit up the area you were in, always so cheery when you greeted him. On the surface, at least.

You were very good friends, so good that everyone already just presumed that you were dating. You spent most evenings with him, sometimes watching crappy tv and other evenings reading while Spike wrote poetry.

Some evenings, if you were really lucky, he would let you read them. Only a few he selected (he was very secretive about certain poems you couldn’t see as they were too intimate). You always gushed about how much you loved them, smiling and rereading them - trying to memorise them. 

He wished he could read to you the ones he had hidden sometimes. They spoke of deep, unrequited feelings that longed to be free. Feelings for you. Alas, you had never initiated anything or so much as hinted similar feelings. Besides, he enjoyed having you to himself as a friend at least and couldn’t bear to jeopardise this so he just hadn’t acted on it.

You were meeting to go to the Bronze, neither of you realised the feelings the other harboured, but it didn’t stop you both wanting to spend every waking minute with each other. He loved your tummy. Sometimes you felt perhaps a little too big but to him that was a ridiculous thought. You appeared so soft he often imagined himself wrapping his arms around you and resting a hand there. Maybe rubbing his hand sooothingly while you were watching one of those movies he allowed you to pick from the rental store. He was thinking about this as you both sat down and had realised that he was staring at you. Again. 

When you both sat down in a booth, he tried his best not to make his loving gaze so obvious - he had a reputation to uphold after all. To make himself feel better, he moved the conversation to something else. He asked about your younger friends, the Scoobies. He did this often, sometimes to try and figure out if they still thought of him as a threat and other times just because it amused him to hear of the often tumultuous teenage drama that the Slayer and her gang got caught up in. 

They were doing their coursework tonight, Willow had called it a study-over - the priority was work, not sleep apparently. You were a lot older than them, having met them by coincidence. You got on with them well, but they were a bit younger than you (and they liked to tell you to stay away from spike a lot). You explained what they were up to to Spike, making him snort at how lame the group that used to ruin all of his evil plots were.

“People at that age should be out shagging anything that bloody moves - not sitting in memorising facts about historical events” He saw you shift slightly uncomfortably and paused, before asking, “What? You don’t agree, love?”

“No- it’s, uh, not that-” You say softly, trying to make your mouth stop forming words. But that plan went out of the window as you started to squirm under his stare and continue bashfully, “I, uh, haven’t actually…”

“What?” he asked, not letting it go. his eyes boring into yours. You sighed, deciding to just say it. Like ripping off a plaster.

“I haven’t had sex, Spike. Okay?” there was an edge to your voice as you snapped, clearly embarrassed.

“That’s alright, love... you, uh, don’t have to do anythin’ you’re not wantin’-” he started to reassure you, still confused as he knew the feelings he had for you - so he knew others must have had such feelings over the years.

“That’s not the problem, I want to have sex I just haven’t- haven’t found anyone. Or, well, no one’s found that they like me…”

“Bollocks!” he cut you off abruptly, “Life’s not a movie, pet… it’s not one of those girly flicks you watch when you think I’m sleepin’ in the afternoon... Life can be messy, it can’t be predicted, no matter what the magic voodoo types ‘round here think… so bloody what if you haven’t shagged a bloke yet-?”

“Spike! You’re talking too loud! People are looking!”

“So fucking what? She’s a virgin!” He said louder, but nobody was really paying much attention to either of you, or they at least had enough manners to act as if they hadn’t before you looked up to check, “Who bloody cares?”

“Me spike. I care” You mutter, embarrassment permeating through every pore, “I haven’t even- I haven’t even kissed anyone” you hissed, deciding you might as well get everything out into the open.

“But you’ve been on a date?” He askedslowly, a little frown. You shook your head, no. He was confused. Someone like you he was convinced someone would have taken you out years ago. You were smart, funny and very sweet. He had been convinced you had a boyfriend and cursing this imaginary man as he had been missing you recently. Not realising that you had been trying to sort through your feelings for him.

He shrugged, looked you in the eyes, grabbed your hands from across the table and knew exactly what he needed to do.

“Let’s make this a date then”

“No- Spike you don’t-” you started to 

“No arguments. I want to, love. Beautiful woman on my arm for the entire evening – make all the buggers jealous and you can say you’ve been on a date” He grinned, as if this hadn’t been an in-the-moment decision. He moved around the table making sure not to give you any room. Sitting beside you and watching your every move. He leaned in, moving his hand from yours to the small of your back as he whispered into your ear.

“Drink?” he asked, just the one word making the hair on the back of your neck raise as you shivered, hoping that he didn’t notice as he got up from his seat.

“Yeah - please. Could I have-”

“I know my girl’s order” he said with a wink. You smiled not able to help yourself enjoying the interaction but a light frown on your brow as he walked off. He exhaled an unneeded breath as he went, thinking about what he had just said, about how he wished you were his.

You continued to frown a little, mulling over how he could switch to flirting so easily. It worried you, how easily he could pretend. He had very obvious feelings for you, but you took it as him feeling sorry for you.

When he returned, he set your favourite drink in front of you before he slipped his hand back over yours, resting it there gently. He was ecstatic, he had been dreaming of becoming closer to you for a while now and he finally had a chance, even if it was under the guise of a friend helping a friend out.

You stayed there for a little while, Spike making small talk asking you questions that he tried to pretend weren’t probing as you sat together before your insecurity got the better of you.

“I do-don’t think I can do this. It’s too hard” You say suddenly, looking down at his hand on yours. You released your hand from his and getting up to leave. He takes your wrist, pulling you back to him but your face tells him he needs to let go. Hot tears were threatening to spill and a thick lump in your throat almost choking you. He was confused, why were you reacting that way? Was he that repulsive to you?

You move to get some fresh air, each intake of the cold night having you wishing that you could just swallow up Sunnydale in its entirety. Take it from the map and leave a crater in it’s place. No more embarrassment, no more admitting that you’re a virgin. That nobody had even appeared to want to kiss you before. That you had never had the confidence to make a move yourself. A happy coincidence being that if you swallowed the town there would be no more hell mouth and demons.

You could start fresh, nobody feeling sorry for you or pretending to care to make you feel better. You appreciated Spike and what he had been trying to do. Helping out a friend. But you so desperately wanted him your heart had started to ache with every accelerated beat.

He had followed you, taking your jacket from where it had been draped on the chair behind you that you had left when you got up. He draped it over your large shoulders, his hand lingering on your back before moving.

 “What’s wrong? Did I do something?” he asked quietly, leaning against the wall as you stared into the night. You shook your head, there was a pause before everything started to bubble over and your feelings started to tumble from your mouth.

“It’s like those poems you write, Spike. The feelings you conjure I can’t fake. I like you and this is cruel, almost worse than having never been on a date because I want it to be real and it’s just not it-it’s theatre. It’s you feeling pity – just helping out a friend-” you rushed out, each word crashing into the next.

“Hey, slow down, pet” He halted you, “Bloody motor-mouth” he muttered, with a shake of his head.  A ghost of a smile on your lips. He often called you that, but for gushing about something you really enjoyed. It was a term of endearment, “That – in there was the most honest I’ve been with you. I wanted all of that… I wanted more” he admitted softly. The same voice he reserved for discussing the most romantic feelings his poetry had revealed.

He knew you had been platonic for a long time, missing all of the signs that you liked him back until now. He looked at you, a silent conversation between you. You could almost hear his mind screaming out for you as he pulled you into him.

His eyebrow quirked, ensuring he hadn’t read the wrong signals. If he was honest, he had been waiting for this for a very long time. Since before even your friendship had suddenly developed he had that feeling of concentrated affection for you that he knew was leading to this. He could only hope that this was where it could end up.

You barely started to nod your approval before he pulled you crashing your mouth into his. He kissed you hungrily, your soft lips a beautiful sensation that had only been fantasy until recently. Despite the evident passion, there was an undercurrent of understanding. A hint of sweet amongst it all that told you it was still spike, the man that had written those words. Words that now made perfect sense. His poetry only now making sense to you as you felt it. You were connected to him so intimately and you were sure his poetry had now been about affection for you. You couldn’t fake something like this.

The kiss was special, you had thought you would be nervous, unsure what you were doing as it was so new to you. But it was perfect, your lips moving with his in a way that you were sure meant this was destiny. All of the stars aligning and pointing towards the spot that you were kissing under. 

You realised that you hadn’t been doing anything with your hands, they had been suspended in mid-air as if you were worried to reach and contact his skin your hands would go straight through him, revealing that he was merely a spectre. This moment being too good to be true. You were half convinced that he would be a hallucination, not corporeal to the touch. 

It was like a dream, but it was better than any you had ever thought up. His skin on yours. The way he lingered against your chubby curves in adoration, as if he had never been allowed to touch something so precious. The kiss deepened and you didn’t have time to worry if you were doing anything right, you were wrapped up in how good this felt. The heightened feelings mingling with just how much you cared for the vampire that was now press himself against you as close as he could physically get.

One of his hands had been in your hair, the other at your hip until he realised your hands hadn’t touched him. He smirked into the kiss, remembering that you hadn’t done this before. His hands moved, gliding along your soft skin, leaving goose-bumps as he made his way to where your hands were still tentatively waiting to catch up with your brain. He moved your hands and guided you to rest on him, his eyes scrutinising your face as he did.

You smiled, breathless, wrapping your arms around him further and nestling to rest your head on his shoulder. He ran his hands along your shapely form before resting against your waist. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation of his body under your hands. Neither of you had to say anything. You knew it was the start of something, it was rising in both of your chests.

That kiss was definitely worth the wait.

[knives-out20]

Knocking Boots - Captain Jack Sparrow x Male!OC

Fandom: Pirates Of The Caribbean (2003-2017)

Pairing: Riley Blackwell (OC) x Captain Jack Sparrow

Warnings: !NSFW!, Smut obviously, Swearing, Faggotry, Praise kink, Jack literally being the king of consent, Gay horny pirates need I say more, Dick stuff but y’know its a given, They have a safe word and safe action guys seriously we’re fine, Dirty talking AND sweet talking,

Notes: If you see this, no you didn’t. Riley doesn’t always bottom, because trust me y’all Jack is JUST as much of a pillow princess as Riley can be, especially if he’s ‘too lazy to do all the work’. I’ll probably delete this SO FAST LMFAOOO I haven’t done this since that shitty Joshua x Aldo one months ago, I literally swore off writing smut after that but I deadass couldn’t help myself. This isn’t placed in a specific movie/between specific movies, so go wild with when you think this is. No spellcheck, we die like men.

Jack and Riley hung around the captain’s cabin of the Black Pearl, Jack sat at the table and Riley standing against a wall. 

Riley inhaled slowly, though sadly his lack of scent blocked him from smelling the rum, the salty sea, and other such smells that every other pirate was long used to.

“Y’know doing that doesn’t really do anything for you, mate” Jack reminded, eyes on his closed compass. “You lost your sense of smell many moons ago, if y’even ever had it.”

Riley pushed himself off of the wall, standing up straight. “Thank you, Captain obvious” he teased, glancing over at Jack and giving him a grin.

Jack returned his gaze, eyebrows raising as he showed Riley a fake smile. “Watch it, love.”

Riley softly arched a brow, left pointer and middle finger padding at his neck. “Bit strange, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

Riley pulled a sturgeon face. “Usually, we’re being pulled this way ‘n’ that, up, down, sideways, left, right, everywhere in bloody death-defying ventures. But now...we’re not on the verge of dying. I’m not losing you, you’re not losing me, we’re not out looking for something, we’re finally getting some damned peace” he explained. “Not that I’m complaining, it’s a relief to finally not be worrying about your well-being, but then again...I’m not used to not bloody worrying.”

Jack chuckled airily. “Finally have me safe ‘n’ sound, and you’re annoyed about it?”

“I bloody said I wasn’t complaining-”

“I’m teasing, rose” Jack cut Riley off. He took off his hat, setting it aside on the table. “Quite nice, isn’t it? Running this way and that is tiresome, sometimes, even I’ll admit” Jack confessed, steadily standing up. He shrugged off his dark coat, placing it over his chair. “More time with you, alone. Or at all, both is fine, honestly.”

Riley crossed his arms, his blue eyes being one (or, well, two) of the brightest things in the room as he watched Jack advance on over. Once Jack came close enough, he grabbed the Captain’s narrow hips and pulled him closer, head tilted slightly. 

“There’s that needy attitude again.”

“Shut it” Riley whispered, leaning in a bit. “I ever tell you how breathtaking you are under the candlelight?”

“Aye. You usually say that under any light, actually” Jack shrugged.

“Because it’s bloody true, dear” Riley shook his head, gaze and smile melting into an expression of hopeless love.

Jack admired Riley for a moment, before asking him something. “Can I kiss you?”

Riley clicked his tongue, nodding. “Always” he whispered.

Jack gently cupped Riley’s cheek, the familiar prickling of Riley’s designer stubble on his palm giving him a sense of safety; of home. His thumb subconsciously starting stroking Riley’s cheek, an automatic thing he happened to do. Jack couldn’t quite place why, maybe it was a reminder to himself that Riley is still there with him and isn’t planning on going anywhere, or maybe it’s just his need to feel Riley under his touch. Either way, he simply couldn’t get enough.

“I’m sorry, I’m expecting a kiss right now, if you’re still up for it” Riley joked, tapping his bottom lip with his right pointer finger.

Jack playfully rolled his eyes, leaning in and pressing his lips to Riley’s. One with a less homey sense to it, as it was obviously more romantic and intimate. Being with everything Riley and him had been through, Jack secretly cherished each and every kiss they shared, no matter the setting nor where the kiss was placed. 

Who knows when a simple kiss could be their last?

Jack pulled Riley close to him with both hands, in a low-key way, feeling safe enough to close his eyes and savor in the moment. Feeling safe around someones energy is a different kind of intimacy than the one that most people are used to, one that he believes only Riley and him have. 

Riley loved kissing Jack, because kissing him never felt like something on his to-do list (though, Jack was constantly at the top of Riley’s to-do list), or a chore. He never felt as if he had to kiss Jack because the two are romantically involved, like he had with men who weren’t Jack. Kissing Jack, to Riley, was that of a fun activity, or a reward for finding the one, so to speak.

Jack’s lips were on the smaller, rounder side, his lips are full, too. He doesn’t take much care of them, more-so himself, but Riley knew them to be softer than a warm bed. Then Riley’s were the complete opposite in looks: wide, and a little on the thinner side. Riley took better care of himself than Jack did with himself, but Riley will reluctantly admit that his lips are a bit dry, most nights. Jack still loved them all the same.

Despite the listless differences between their attributes, Jack’s and Riley’s lips fit ever so perfectly when they kiss. As if they were carved from the same stone, or made for each other. 

Every piece of their bodies were perfectly made for each other, it seemed. Riley’s hand could fit perfectly when holding Jack’s. Jack could wrap himself around Riley and they would fit like two pieces of a puzzle. Riley could place his hand on Jack’s neck and it wouldn’t be too big or too small.

And in this moment, it was their lips that fit each other. Riley kissed Jack as he held the Captain, recalling the idea that his hands were made for holding Jack in any way, shape, or form, he just fit so perfectly. He tasted the rum on Jack’s lips, like it was the only thing he ever could- or wanted to- taste. After all, both Jack’s lips and rum gave Riley a major sugar rush-like feeling.

Jack pulled away from the kiss for air, keeping his lips against Riley’s. “Can you bloody take this off?” He inquired, in more of an actual questioning tone than the pleading tone anyone would expect to hear in the given situation. Jack tugged at Riley’s black coat, specifically the collar despite meaning the clothing item as a whole.

Riley nodded, pulling his hands away from Jack’s person to pull the coat clean off and toss it onto a nearby chair. What was under that coat was always the same, a long-sleeved black button-up with a red double-buttoned waistcoat over that. Sometimes just the waistcoat, unless Riley felt cold. Silence followed, and he arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you gonna ask me to take these buggers off, too?” Riley asked, tugging his waistcoat and button-up.

Jack gulped. “Only if y’want to. I’d never force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to, mate. Willingly, of course.”

Riley cooed, reconnecting his lips to Jacks as he worked on unbuttoning his waistcoat. Most would think that oh, double the buttons, double the amount of time. But Riley’s grown accustomed to taking off his waistcoat that it’s second nature, he’s very quick at it nowadays. He pulled away from Jack to work it off, folding it and holding it in one hand. “Could you be-rid of this, for me?” He tapped Jack’s smaller, unbuttoned waistcoat, which was forgotten in a flash with how fast Jack took it off, after his belt, weapons, and any other effects. Riley chuckled, “needy much?” He teased, throwing his waistcoat onto a table.

“Shut up” Jack scoffed, the both of them unbuttoning their shirts.

“Can I kiss you, now?” Riley slid his hand over Jack’s lower back, pulling him closer for some skin-on-skin action.

Jack pressed his forehead against Riley’s, smirking. “You may.”

Riley’s other hand found the back of Jack’s neck, cradling the back of his head. He inched closer, kissing Jack for the third time. It was hungrier than the others, now that Jack and Riley both knew that the other knew exactly what they wanted.

Jack pulled away, cupping Riley’s cheek and talking against his other one. “Can I go down on you?” He purred, neediness showing at this point but he’d shut it off like a switch if Riley were to seem the least bit uninterested. 

Riley nodded, turning and pushing Jack onto the bed. He crawled on top of him, grunting when Jack flipped them around.

Jack straddled Riley down, using one hand to pull off his faded, red bandanna. He set the bandanna aside, along with the deer shinbone that usually stuck out of it. “Can we try it like this tonight?” Jack questioned, gesturing to how he was currently on top of Riley. “Let me take care of you, love.”

Riley hummed, nodding. He watched Jack intently, propping himself onto his elbows as the Captain took off his pants. Riley followed suite, until his rings weren’t even on his hands and Jack wasn’t wearing any bracelets. 

Jack pinned Riley down to the bed, face disappearing to the crook of his scarred neck. “I could stay here all bloody day” he mumbled, fluttering kisses down Riley’s neck. “All I ever want to do, Rye, is- is run me hands through your hair, all damned day, and kiss your beautiful neck” he admitted, inhaling Riley’s secure musk.

Riley tilted his head up, smiling lazily. “Anything else?”

“Oh, darling, why tell you when I could easily show you?” Jack hummed, fingers dancing down the side of Riley’s body like he had a million times before, knowing his partner better than the back of his hand. He continued his gifts of loving kisses, trailing down Riley’s body, his way of admiring his own work of art.

Riley’s fingers smoothly tangled into Jack’s dreads, course fingers in the soft locks always giving him a feeling like solace. He tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling in content, quite glad that a majority of the work didn’t befall onto him tonight.

Jack worked his way back up to Riley’s neck, becoming more and more touchy by the second. He pressed against Riley hungrily, biting down on a safe spot on Riley’s neck.

Riley grunted quietly, eyelids fluttering as Jack did what he did best.

“What do you want, Riley?” Jack urged, ready to stop if Riley were to give a signal. His hand met Riley’s dick, thumb softly stroking. “Tell me what you want.”

Riley dug a hand into Jacks hair, having been worked up very quickly. “You,” he breathed, all his senses practically overloading with his need for Jack. “You, Jack. Please.”

Jack chuckled lowly, pulling Riley’s hand away from him and pulling away, himself.

Riley’s blue eyes followed Jack’s every distinct move, as the man went to go get some aloe vera and come back.

Jack took a bit of the gel, rubbing it onto his hands. “What’s our safe word again, love?” He asked, eyebrows raised expectantly. Jack assumed Riley remembered their safe word.

“Wicked.” Riley answered obediently.

“And safe action?”

Riley pat the bed three times, doing so again with his hand furled into a fist. “If I pat the bed three times, fist or not.”

“Aye” Jack nodded, proudly. He maintained eye contact with Riley as he lathered his dick up with the aloe vera gel, breathing at a ragged pattern as his mind raced with ideas of all that he could do to Riley. “Do you still want this?”

Riley nodded eagerly, long used to Jack’s constant inquiries on whether he still wanted to do something or not. “I want you, Jack-”

“How badly?”

“So bloody bad” Riley licked his lips slowly, eyeing Jack like always.

Jack grinned, “good boy.” He praised, covering two fingers in the gel and teasing them around Riley’s entrance.

Riley squirmed a bit beneath him, having never gotten used to the feeling. His movements were less jerky than they were when Jack and him first started having sexual escapades, but he wouldn’t lie, it was always uncomfortable.

“Are you okay?” 

Riley nodded, reaching up and tucking Jack’s dreads behind his shoulders; this gave him a clearer view of Jack’s face. AKA a sight that none of the seven wonders of the world could ever even begin to compare to. “Always feels weird, is all.”

Jack nodded back at him, tossing the aloe vera aside and wiping his fingers. He lined himself up with Riley, pausing to simply stop and stare down at Riley. And this was far from being meant to be taken in a creepy way, Jack must say. He, cliche enough, always caught himself gazing at Riley on various occasions, ever since he was 18. Something about Riley was just so enrapturing, Jack swears he’d choose exploring Riley Blackwell and all that he is, over any sea or ocean, any day.

But enough of that, now.

Jack glanced down at his view of Riley below-the-waist, seeing Riley was just about as hard as he is. He hummed- intriguing. Nonetheless, there was work- well, a pirate- to be done. Jack exhaled quietly, locking eyes with Riley. “Ready?”

“Yes” was all Riley gave Jack, which is exactly what he needed to hear. With Riley, he always needed the presence of a ‘yes’ rather than the lack of a ‘no’, that always made what they did so much more enjoyable for him. 

Jack winked down at him, slowly sliding into his beloved.

Riley sucked in his breath upon impact, shoulders rising slightly.

Jack knew that was a good sign, so he slowly pushed his length into Riley. At that point in time, he knew full and well Riley could take all of it. “Is this okay?” Jack asked in a hushed tone, droplets of concern sprinkled over the inquiry. 

Riley nodded, relaxing into the activity. “I like that” he answered, repeating it mindlessly when Jack began thrusting softly. 

Jack smiled once more, hips thrusting against the underside of Riley’s smooth thighs. He decided to show mercy on Riley and go slowly throughout, after all he did say he wanted to take care of Riley tonight. If Jack hadn’t said that, he would have been sure to make Riley like how he was when Jack first met him: stuttery, shivery, and overall not like he usually is now. It’s a wonderful sight. “Do you want me to stop?” He piped up.

“Don’t stop,” Riley’s fingers curled, gripping the bed sheets but not in any way that expressed pain. “Don’t stop, don’t bloody stop, please” he begged, music to Jack’s ears.

“Feel good, eh?” Jack pushed, feeling a bit cocky but holding himself back from going any faster than Riley would’ve wanted him to. “Does this feel good?” He reworded.

“Feels so good, Jack” Riley mewled, putty beneath the Captain.

Jack grunted under his breath, brown eyes darting over very square inch of Riley’s body that was in his direct view. He had memorized it a thousand times over, but this was one treasure he was never tired of having, of holding, of looking at. But unlike any treasure, Riley’s a person, a human being. Not some shiny object. In Jack’s mind, he’d call Riley ‘treasure’, but he was sure that Riley’s so much more than that. 

“Jack,” Riley moaned, head tilting up, eyes falling closed as he swore softly.

Jack was pulled back down to reality when Riley called him, unknowingly speeding up his thrusts. “Yea, darling?”

“Can you go slower-?”

Jack gulped, nodding and immediately slowing his rhythm. “Sorry- got ahead of me-self” he apologized, reaching down and cupping Riley’s cheeks. “That better?”

“Right there, yes” A sedated smile slid onto Riley’s inviting lips, giggling airily. “More.”

“You look so pretty when you ask for more” Jack praised once more, thumb stroking at a leisurely pace. “You’re doing so well, Riley.” He added, the satisfaction on Riley’s face telling him more than enough. Jack traced one hand down Riley’s torso, grabbing his dick like before. 

Riley’s breath hitched when he felt Jack begin to pump, fingers stroking and squeezing down below. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, more than bloody okay, fuck-”

Jack chuckled, thrusting into Riley in a recurrent pace as his hand went to work at doing something he happened to do best: pleasing Riley. He was brought to cloud 9 as his waist swayed back and fourth, Riley mumbling “I’m close” ringing a bell in his head. “Hm?”

“I’m close, Jack” Riley repeated, head turned to the side.

Jack let go of Riley, leaning in and invading Riley’s personal space to sloppily kiss his neck. He bit down, tugged at skin, left a few marks, doing what he knew Riley would like. As long as Jack’s ears were being met with Riley moaning, groaning, and calling out his name, he was far from stopping. “Come for me, dear. Come for me, Riley.”

***

Jack collapsed beside Riley, the only noise in the air being their heavy panting and the sea rocking against the boat, like their bed had been against the wall. He tiredly reached an arm out, grabbing Riley and tugging him closer. 

Riley wrapped his body around Jack, mind falling back to earth from the nirvana it had just reached. “That was so...good” he slurred.

Jack exhaled through his nose, staring blankly at the wall. “You told me that one too many times” he teased, not denying that he was happy.

“Shut up” Riley breathed, smiling against Jack’s bare neck. “I love you” he told, breath heavy as his eyelids felt.

Jack’s smile grew from ear to ear, holding Riley close to his person. “I love you too, Riley.”

[samanthadalton]

Everything has changed

Based on the VIP book A Very Scandalous Proposal (I recommend reading it if you have vip!) 

pairings: Ava Montjoy x Sophie Macdonald 

(based on chapter 6 and 7 but rewritten bc we shouldve gotten a kiss in chapter 7) 

You requested and I’ve delivered @thedaft1 I hope you enjoy! 

taglist: @thedaft1 @cloud9in (idk any Ava Montjoy stans but if I do write more for her in the future and you wanna be tagged let me know 😊)

word count: 1.6k 

After asking Ava to stay with you for the night, platonically of course, you sit in comfortable silence, eyes glued to the tv screen, entranced by the show that’s playing. As you laugh along to the jokes, you see in your peripheral vision Ava sneaking glances at you, a hint of a smirk playing across her lips. You conspicuously try not to gaze at her, fixating your focus to the tv, but you begin to feel your cheeks burning as you recollect about the kiss you shared earlier, the very fake real kiss you shared in front of her friends. Considering how much you had to drink tonight, you barely remember what happened after but your mind lingers on the kiss, the way Ava’s lips felt against yours, how her tongue slipped into your mouth setting your entire body alight. How the intensity of the kiss left you feeling weak in the knees as her toned arms slipped around your waist, steadying you. Ava blamed it on the alcohol, presuming you had too much to drink but what she didn’t realise was how much of a physical impact the kiss had on you. How it had left you dizzy and craving more, but as your mind drifts off, assessing and analysing every moment of the kiss, Ava’s voice breaks you out of your trance and you clear your throat, wishing away all your unbridled thoughts about the Brit as she give you a small smile. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

You turn your head slightly to gaze at her, your body sobering up as the moments pass but you definitely still feel the alcohol in your system. “Just thinking.” 

“About?” You raise a playful eyebrow at her, “come darling, I’m your fiancee you should be able to share stuff with me.” And there it was, her absolutely infuriating but somehow incredibly charismatic personality shining through and you can’t help but laugh. 

“I guess I’m still embarrassed by tonight. I didn’t say anything out of order in front of your friends right?” Your voice is laced with a bit of insecurity as your gaze nervously burns into Ava’s. 

Ava gives a sinister grin that is anything but innocent. “Well…..I will say that you are a right cheeky bugger when you’ve had a proper chin wag.” 

“Ava, real english please.” You know you sound like a dumb American in this moment but after a few weeks you’re still trying to wrap your head around the absurdity that is British slang.

Ava lets out a small airy laugh, “god you’re so hopelessly American.” Her smile broadens, as she slightly shakes her head. “You tend to say some things which are quite barmy, while under the influence of alcohol.” 

You groan, your hand raises as you give yourself a physical and mental facepalm, “just rip it off like a band-aid, what did I say?” 

“Let’s just say you were very persistent in me taking you to bed,” Ava trails off her cheeks dusted red as you pointedly glances away from you, her eyes boring into the telly but not fully focused on the screen. 

“Oh god.” 

Ava turns back to you, her lips quirked into a toothy grin, “well you’ve already enticed me into your bed so I say you’ve done a bloody good job.: Her voice chirps with playfulness as her accent strengthens when pronouncing certain words and you feel as if you’ve fallen under her spell. What started off as an innocent agreement between the two of you is beginning to grow into something more, however you’re unsure if the feeling is unrequited or if Ava feels the same way. She leans forward slightly, her gaze slightly darkens as she takes you in, “I can’t exactly blame you, you’re not made out of stone. I know how…” she pauses, contemplating for a few seconds before giving you a devilish grin, “alluring I can be.” You facetiously swat at her arm, your cheeks reddening by the second. The sounds from the tv become a background noise as you stare intensely at her, all rational thoughts thrown out of the window as your gaze involuntarily darts down to her lips. Ava notices your wandering eyes and subconsciously runs her tongue along her bottom lip, the wetness of it glistening under the dim glare of the television. 

“Sophie,” your name leaves her lips in a low breathless manner, whether it’s a come on or a warning you’re still internally debating as you edge closer to her, but Ava retracts her gaze from yours pulling you out of the moment. 

“We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow, we should get some sleep.” She shifts in the bed leaving a wide gap between the two of you which suddenly feels like a chasm. Hyper aware of the awkward shift in the atmosphere,  you cover up the look of disappointment flashing across your face with an exaggerated yawn before turning to face the other way. 

“Goodnight Sophie.” 

“Goodnight Ava.” You close your eyes and let the sleep that you tried so hard to subside earlier take you. 

…..

After spending the day researching for your book, you begin getting ready for dinner after Ava has promised to take you out to dinner after criticizing the lack of public exposure to your relationship. After indulging in a dinner, where you catch a glimpse of Ava’s hedonistic nature in the way in which she takes the reins, teaching you about the art of eating oysters she offers to take you to a small private club called Firefly. 

“I’d much rather entertain you somewhere more...intimate than regale this stuffy lot.” She holds out her hand which you cordially accept and as your hand slips into hers, she lifts it to her lips, gently pressing a kiss across your knuckles, sending shivers down your spine. Ava tenderly strokes her thumb over your knuckles, and you can’t help but feel the butterflies in your stomach even though you know it’s for show. 

Temporarily stunned, you’re at a loss for words as you take in the mischievous glint in Ava’s eyes. “I-,” 

“Cat got your tongue?” Ava teases as her hand still remains on yours, her fingertips ghosting around your knuckles. 

Seeing the smug look on Ava’s face strengthens your resolve as you assertively raise an eyebrow before leaning in close to whisper, “I’d love to go.”

Ava breaks out into a wolfish grin, “Marvellous. I’ll just grab the check and then we will be on our way.” 

…. 

Ava leads you into a glamorous setting, the sultry old timey music washing over you as she leads you to a table near the front of the stage. 

“Ava, this place is beautiful. I feel like I’ve been catapulted back into the 1920s.” 

“Yes, Mitzie has always taken a liking to this place and I guess she has passed it down onto me. Whenever I feel like I need an escape, I like to come here and lose myself in the music.” 

You indulge in some more conversation with Ava in which she lets some juicy gossip about her grandmother being a lounge singer in this very place when she was younger, after making you promise not to add it to your book, fearing her wrath. A slow romantic song begins to play as couples begin drifting towards the dance floor. Ava holds out a hand, “indulge me?” You take her hand and let her lead you into the middle of floor. Her hands hang loosely around your waist while you find yourself doing the same with your arms around her neck. 

You dance in content silence for a few moments, but you feel Ava’s gaze boring into you as she softly speaks out, “I have to say Sophie, I’m… pleasantly surprised.” 

“About what?” 

“Everything I suppose. I know it must have not been easy when I propositioned you with the devil’s bargain so to say, but I have to say, this has been unexpectedly delightful.” You draw your head back, slightly started by Ava’s admission, catching an amorous glint in her eye which momentarily takes your breath away. 

“I-. I have to admit, this has been more enjoyable than I thought it would be. When you first approached me I thought you were a pompous, stuffy, self-centred upper crust girl.” 

“You wound me.” Ava brings a hand over her hand, exaggeratingly clutching at it before moving her hand back around to your waist, her hands gripping your hips slightly firmer than before. “So what do you think of me now?” You see a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes as her half-lidded gaze roams your facial features as if she’s searching for something. 

“Oh I still think you’re incredibly pompous,” your jesting tone elicits a few laughs from the Brit before she gleams languorously at you, “but you’ve been nothing but kind to me. Sometimes a giant pain in my ass but you’re different than what I expected.”

You feel a surge of adrenaline rush through you at the spike of your admittance as the air between the two of you suddenly feels dense, heavy with anticipation as you close the gap between the two of you, her soft plush lips easing into yours. You moan softly as your arms around Ava’s neck tighten, surging yourself against her. Your kiss grows warmer, as you explore the depths of her mouth, forgetting about the people around you. Unlike the kiss you shared last night, this one feels more authentic, as you begin to lose yourself in her. Ava pulls away as the music shifts into something more spirited and she rests her forehead against yours, her darkened eyes staring deeply into yours, as the feel of her lips still lingering on yours. 

As you glare into each other’s eyes you know that everything has changed. 

[lu-undy]

Chapter 69 - SBT

Here it is!

"Gosh…" 

"Hm?"

"I can't get enough of you, Lu'." 

The ex-spy smiled. Their limbs were entangled in the bed. Mundy was playing with Lucien's long hair and the Frenchman was simply staring at him with lovestruck eyes.

"Neither can I."

Mundy took a handful of Lucien's silky locks and put them under his nose. 

"Even your smell's beautiful…" He shut his eyes.

"What do I smell like?" Lucien asked. 

Mundy opened his eyes and smiled at Lucien. 

"Home." He answered.

"Look at you being the poet…!"

Mundy blushed and his smile widened as Lucien moved closer to kiss him. Lucien's hand moved to his cheek and his lips nipped at Mundy's with a wide smile, and a chuckle. Their lips connected and parted with a loud lapping noise. 

"Your hair's bloody beautiful, luv'." 

"I had in mind to cut it at some point, but if you prefer it long…"

"You do what you want, Lu', it's your hair, eh?" 

"Oui but what would you prefer?" 

"I… I quite like it long actually…" 

Lucien smiled.

"What about me? Like it short or…?"

"Oui. You look wild enough without the long hair." Lucien winked and Mundy chuckled. 

"Right…" 

Lucien laid his head under Mundy's jaw, on his chest again and closed his eyes. Soon, their very breaths synced up. 

"Lu'?"

"Oui?"

"Will we ever… Come back to the city and stuff or…?" 

The Frenchman sighed. 

"I cannot access anything that will let the French or any other secret services know about my surviving." 

"Ok, what do we do?" 

"I will write a will." 

"Uh… Luv', wills are supposed to be written before you die, eh?" 

"Oh we will put a fake date and you will say that you have found it amongst my things." 

"Ok, why?" 

"I will leave all my money to you. Meanwhile, you will need to go to Maurice and ask him for a coffee, with milk and two sugars." 

"What?! Hold on, what's it gotta do with the plan?" 

Lucien chuckled. 

"It is a code, not an actual invitation."

"What's it mean?" 

"Tell him that Paris wants a coffee with two sugars and a drop of milk. Then, give him the will, he will sort everything out." 

Mundy frowned. 

"Ok but what's it mean?" 

"It means I am alive and need a new identity."

"Oh… So your name won't be Lucien de Beauregard anymore?" Lucien looked up at Mundy. "That's what's written on your tombstone, luv'. Sorry if I butchered it by the way."

"You remember it?"

"I can't really forget. I felt awful when the priest said your full name. I realised that even though I loved you to bits, I didn't even know your name."

"It doesn't matter."

"It did. I felt bad." Mundy frowned. 

"Mon amour… I am sorry. I never thought my last name would be relevant to anything." Lucien answered. 

"It's ok, I don't care now, but it was just… weird." 

"Do you know what it means?" Lucien asked.

"What what means?" 

"My last name." 

"No, what?" 

"Literally, Lucien of the beautiful gaze." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"Wow… So your eyes are a family thing or what?" 

"One could say so. What about you?" Lucien asked. 

"Me?"

"Oui, what is your last name? Mundy the Wild Wolf?"

"Pff…" Mundy chuckled. "Nah, Turner." 

"Mundy Turner." Lucien repeated with his accent. "I like it." 

"You'd better, cause I'm not gonna change it." Mundy scratched Lucien's scalp through his hair and the Frenchman closed his eyes. "So then, you won't be Lu' anymore?"

"Not for the world, but only you and the few people who know me will still call me L, or Lu'." 

"What new name will you go for?" 

"Do you have ideas?" Lucien asked. 

"No, I don't know a lot of French names, eh… You choose."

"I was thinking of using my second name, Louis." 

"Louis?" 

"Oui." 

"And for your last name? Hard to top up Lu' with the beautiful eyes, eh? Or maybe you can go for Louis the handsome bloke or something?" Mundy chuckled.

"I might." Lucien answered and kissed Mundy's cheek.

"Does Maurice know about you…?" 

"I think he has his doubts and won't be very surprised."

"Right. We can do all that faff tomorrow then."

"Oui, for now, let us enjoy the night together…" Lucien slid a leg between Mundy's.

"Oh… Wow… Alright…"

"Too much?" 

"Nah, it's just… Nice." 

Lucien smiled. 

"Good." 

"Lu'?"

"Oui?"

"Somethin' I thought about after you died…"

"Tell me." 

"I couldn't even tell Pearl cause she was still a baby but uh… Well, I don't even know how to say it… Ahem, y'know usually when two people like each other quite a bit and uh… They spend some nights together and uh…" 

"Oui." 

"Well, I was thinking about us and I was surprised that we never… Y'know…" 

Lucien smiled. 

"Oui, I know. Do you think we should?" 

"N-no, that's weird to think about it that way. No, I was just surprised that we never did it. I mean, before you, I remember that waitress for example. Didn't know her at all. I just went to her pub once. She latched onto me and asked me about my van and stuff."

"Ooh, mon loup has his successes, hm…?" 

Mundy blushed. 

"Nah, I mean…"

"Go on." 

"Yeah, so she asked me to come back after her shift. I had nothin' else to do, so I came back in the evenin'. We got some takeaway and had dinner with it at her place and then… Ugh…"

"And then you concluded with her?" 

"Well, not really. She was the one who wanted it and she started it."

"What about you?" 

"I didn't really care."

Lucien frowned slightly and looked up at his lover. 

"You… did not really care?" 

"Yeah. I mean, it's ok to do it, feels nice on the body but… I wasn't really feeling anythin' with her."

"Oh… Fair enough. What happened between you two then?" 

"Next morning, I took my stuff and left. Never seen her again." 

"You felt ashamed?" 

"No." 

"You felt proud?" 

"No. It's weird. I didn't feel anythin'. I went back to the van, drove to the lake here and had a swim." 

"Mundy, do you mind me asking how long it has been since you felt something for someone?" 

"Before you? Uh… More than ten years for sure." 

"Hm." 

"You?" 

"Likewise."

"Oh, ok."

"And then I met you and I couldn't pull you out of my head, however hard I tried."

"Thanks, luv'." Mundy kissed Lucien's head. 

"May I also confess a thought I had after I supposedly passed away?" 

"Sure." 

Lucien found Mundy's hand under the bed cover and slid his fingers between the Aussie's.

"Do you remember the bath we took together at the hotel?"

"Yeah, course I do." 

"It was the most romantic thing I had done in more than a decade. The candles, the bubbles… Your naked skin against mine. I enjoyed it almost too much."

"Too much?" Mundy asked. 

"Oui, too much." 

"What d'you mean?" 

"I mean that my body almost betrayed me in that bath, under the bubbles. I was glad I was laying on top of you and not the other way around or you would have felt it."

"Oh, you mean-?"

"Oui." 

"Well, uh… You do the same to me, eh. I, uh, I love you too much I guess." Mundy answered, blushing beyond his ears.

The embrace tightened and Lucien started kissing Mundy's chest and neck again. 

"L-Lu'…?" The Aussie raised his head to offer more of his neck to Lucien.

"I want to love you." Lucien whispered and Mundy felt his beard scratching his skin in the most delicious way. Soon, Lucien's lips were on his but this time, both parties wanted it to last.

Lucien straddled his lover and laced his fingers between Mundy's, pinning his hands left and right.

"Bugger…" 

They did not wait long before adding the French to the kiss and Mundy hoped to God he wasn't too rusty. On the other hand, Lucien seemed more than confident and well-practised in that art… 

He took Mundy's tongue on a voyage, it was sent to explore, taste and rediscover sensations long gone and forgotten. Mundy even forgot to breathe and when he gasped for air, Lucien couldn't hold back a chuckle. 

The Frenchman's straight, silky hair fell on them both and Mundy wished he could touch it… Ah, it was an obsession that hair now! He didn't know he could be that sensitive and attracted by it. 

But what kept on burning his insides was the slow dance of the tongue that Lucien was taking him to. A sensual, mellow, and slick waltz of the tastes. Mundy rolled up his eyes and let Lucien lead on things. 

The Frenchman had frowned, he was trying to write, to sing and to paint at the same time. He wanted Mundy to understand. He wanted him to see, hear and taste how much he loved him and beyond that maybe, how much he wanted him. 

Oui, they had never done it before. But it didn't feel right for either of them. Lucien freed Mundy's hand to grasp his hair and Mundy went straight for his hips, pulling them flush against his own.

"Oh, mon Dieu, Mundy…"

Lucien seemed to like it. Good, that's nice. Mundy kept their hips in contact and it quickly escalated for both of them. They could both feel it, through their hot kisses, their shy moans rising in volume, the friction of their clothes. Yes, tension was rising and with it, a desire they hadn't felt in years…

"M-Mundy, wait." 

Mundy stopped sharp. Both were breathing heavily. 

"Sorry, I thought you wanted to…?"

"I do. But…" Lucien was sitting on Mundy's hips straddling them. 

"Hey, it's fine, luv'. If you don't feel like it, I won't force you or anything."

"Non, I do want it but…" Lucien bent down and laid on Mundy. "Last time I did that was ages ago, and with a woman." 

"W-wait, you mean since Mary you never…?" 

"Non. I never found anyone else. So I didn't." 

"Oh…"

"Especially not a man. I fear I might be… Rusty."

"Mate, same for me eh. But I don't care that you're rusty or not. I won't grade you over this. You do what feels good as long as we both like it…" Mundy brushed Lucien's hair with his fingers. "You don't have anythin' to prove to me. I love you." 

"I know. I just feel a bit… ashamed." 

"Why?" 

"I used to be a man who knew what he was doing with all this and now, I cannot even kiss you without over-thinking it." 

"Can I tell you somethin' a bit serious, love?" 

"Oui?" Lucien raised his head off of Mundy's chest to look him in the eye. 

"No offense but that man you're talking about, that's not the man I love." 

Lucien's eyebrows jumped. 

"No, I don't even know him. The Lu' that I fell for is the one who cries when he sings, who smiles and plays silly with me. The one who adopted a kitten and loved her like his own daughter. I never saw the womaniser spy in you. I saw a bloke who had a responsibility, like me, and we did what we had to." Mundy pushed Lucien's hair behind his ear. "I think that you haven't been that cold-blooded spy that you think you are for a long, long time. You just held on to the image because that's what you think you are. But you could ask anyone, that's not what they see of you."

Lucien raised interrogative eyebrows. 

"If you were at the funeral, you heard everyone. No one said you were a cold-blooded, seducing machine. Nah, people said you were generous, compassionate. You saved people more than you killed. Bastien took your words and is workin' his arse off to become what he wants, hell, even Victoria admitted she saw you like the dad she wished she had… No one mentioned your success with sheilas, y'know why?"

"Why?" 

"Because you're so much more than that. You're so much more beautiful than that. People see your looks first, yeah, but when they get to know you, they don't see the looks anymore, they see what you're hidin' here." Mundy poked Lucien's chest gently. "And they remember it for life, because you changed theirs." 

Lucien smiled with glistening eyes and he bit his lip to hold himself back. 

"Hey…" Mundy put a hand on Lucien's bearded cheek. "Gettin' emotional, are we?" 

Lucien simply nodded and leaned his head in Mundy's warm palm. 

"It's alright, love. But eh, I just want you to understand this. I don't expect anything from you and I don't care about any of these things." Mundy smiled. "I lost you once and I don't want this to happen ever again. So please… Stop thinking that you're disappointin' me or other kind of nonsense like that, ok?" 

Lucien nodded again, his eyes still wet. 

"I love you. I love the you that I met and that I have in front of me, not the one from twenty bloody years ago." 

Lucien smiled. 

"I love you." He answered, and his voice shook under the sobs that he gulped down hard in his throat. 

"C'mere." Mundy pulled Lucien to lie down on him and the Frenchman obliged. "You get what I said?" 

"Oui." 

"You sure?" 

"Oui." 

"So now, whenever you do anythin', don't do it like you're L the spy. Do it like you're my Lu'." 

Lucien slid his hands between Mundy's back and the mattress and hugged him close. 

"Get it?" 

"Oui." 

"Gimme a kiss." 

Lucien raised his head and put his lips against Mundy. 

"Wanna cry?"

"I think so." 

"Ok, do it." 

"Non, not with you." 

"Lu', what did I just say…? Quit tryin' to be arrogant or anythin'. Just be you. You wanna cry? Then, bloody cry. Why d'you have to bottle everything up? 's not good." 

"I don't want to make you distraught or make you worry about me." 

"I worry about you more when you bottle everythin' up in that tiny head of yours. You gotta let it go."

Lucien slid his hands on Mundy's chest and grabbed his tee-shirt.

"It's alright. I love you." 

Lucien closed his eyes and his tears started to flow down.

"You gotta learn how to feel normally now. The spy's dead and his secrets are dead with him." 

"What am I then? I've always been a spy." 

"You're my everythin'. You're my home, my family, my love, everything. I really mean it, Lu' you hear me? Once we sort your new name out, we'll find you somethin' to do, something you like and something without any spooky business. Something clean." 

"Like what?" Lucien sniffed. 

"Y'know, since I stopped hunting, I'm just helpin' Maurice out. I don't earn much, but it's enough for the cats and me. You could help too, if you want." 

"I want to be with you, always." His voice was still trembling.

"And you will, don't worry. I'm sure Maurice could use an extra pair of hands. And Pearl got herself a job there too." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah," Mundy adjusted the blanket on Lucien's back and brushed his hands along the Frenchman's spine. "She does the pest control side of things. She hunts all the mice down, especially in the kitchens."

Lucien smiled between his tears. 

"But yeah, if that's what you want, we can do that. And if not, you just have to say what you wanna do, I'm sure we can find something." 

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Mundy, I won't lie to you, ever again." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"If you love me as much as I do you, then I have to be more than just a partner in crime. I have to… I have to be honest with you."

Those words seemed so hard to get out that they sounded like they had torn Lucien's jaw. 

"You don't have to do anythin', Lu'. You just gotta understand how normal people live, because you're one of them now."

He sniffed again and another train of tears ran along his cheeks.

"I'll keep on bein' myself with you, and you keep on being yourself too. The only difference is that now your head's much lighter cause you can take all the spooky business, all the nonsense and tell it all to piss off out of your mind, ok?"

"I don't know if I can do that." 

"Course you can. But I understand you can just do it in one go and all. It'll take time, I guess. That's fine, we got a whole lifetime to go." 

"Vraiment?"

"What?" 

"I meant, really?" 

"Yeah. I don't want anyone else, y'know. And uh, I really need to take you to my parents. They've got to meet you, really." 

Lucien smiled against Mundy's chest. 

"Y-you make me feel like a normal bloke too, y'know?" 

"How so?" 

"Feels like I can settle down with you. I mean, yeah, you're not a sheila so we're not exactly normal but…"

"We are both old adults and we are choosing this of our own accord. I don't believe that we are hurting anyone." 

"Well, I'm not, but there's crates of fan mail from sheilas to disagree with you on that, eh?" 

They both chuckled. 

"Perhaps, oui."

"Yeah, I feel like I'm finding my place with you. Y'know, same as you're not a spy anymore, I'm not a hunter either. I'm just a bloke with cats. Christ, I've turned into the weird old lady with cats, but I'm a bloke…?" 

Lucien chuckled. 

"What next, Mundy, hm? Will you throw bread at the ducks in the park and nourish the pigeons?" 

"Shut up, you…!" 

They chuckled and hugged tighter as they kissed again and again. 

"Thank you so much, Mundy." 

"Yeah, well, thank you too, eh? You make me feel like I'm a… I'm a…" 

"What is it? Say it, mon amour." 

"A proper man."