#drew this last night while barely awake and i think it shows

[protagfolly]

donqui !

[thegameoflovemindberries]

two spoons of sugar

Fandom "the monkees "

Warnings : no

Out of character, fluff (this is just morning tenderness)

Ship :torksmith

Mike opened his eyes when the sun was already shining through the tightly curtained windows. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, the hands showed nine o'clock in the morning. Yes, he woke up later than usual today, but on the other hand, today was Sunday. And everyone knows that on this day of the week you can sleep as much as you want. There were no rehearsals, filming, or anything else, there was only rest. The beach was rustling outside the window, as if inviting you to swim, Nesmith was definitely going to do this, but later. In the meantime, all his attention was focused on the blond ball, who comfortably laid his head on Nesmith's chest. Peter was charming when he slept, and when he was awake. Mike, as if hypnotized, ran his hand through his blond hair, so soft to the touch. Michael wanted to get up to start this new day, but while Tork was sleeping, it was not possible without waking him. So he decided to act boldly and wake up his partner, carefully of course. His palm moved from his hair to his cheek, his fingers drew a pattern that was understandable only to its author. He stirred and reluctantly opened his eyes. It took Pete a couple of seconds to focus his gaze.

"Good morning, Mike"

Tork's voice was quiet and a little hoarse, he was clearly not fully awake yet, but his lips stretched into a radiant smile when Nesmith's dry lips touched his cheek.

"Good morning. How did you sleep?"

Peter did not think for a second, he slept just fine. Although what other result could be expected if he slept in the arms of his beloved?

"Just great, and you?"

The question was followed by another kiss, but this time from Peter, whose lips touched Michael's neck. This was a particularly sensitive spot that only Tork knew about and had the right to kiss.

"Wonderful."

With these words, Pete got up from the heated bed. Of course, not forgetting to lightly kiss his partner on the forehead. The closet opened with a quiet creak (the furniture was, to put it mildly, not particularly new.) Jeans and a long-sleeved sweater flew from the aforementioned item onto the bed. Michael never understood how Tork was able to wear such warm clothes in such a hot time of year, but Peter only smiled and said that he did not feel the heat. A minute later, he pulled off his pajama T-shirt, letting Mike admire his bare chest and back to his heart's content. Nasmyth really loved watching such 'shows', he enjoyed the sight of the half-naked figure of his beloved. Peter felt a gaze on his back and turned his head, twisting his lower lip. What a devil! He knew perfectly well that Mike did not leave such gestures unnoticed. A flirtatious look, a bitten lip and a smile on his face - perfect.

"Do you know, Mr. Tork, that it is better not to tease me?"

Nesmith's voice was oozing with fun and coquetry - the very two qualities that were not displayed very often, but Pete adored them.

"I know"

Oh, he knows! Well, Michael did not expect another answer. But he would postpone all the fun for later, when they were alone, but already at night.

Peter completely changed from pajamas to home clothes, this day promised to be magnificent. They both left the room into the small kitchen. Their two friends were still asleep. Davy had returned late last night from a date with another beauty (Johnny or maybe Susie? None of the guys had time to remember the names of their young friend's lovers.) And now he was sleeping off and both guys knew that Jones would not wake up until lunch. Well, as for Mickey, he spent the whole night reading comics or maybe doing some experiments and now he was sleeping soundly, clearly not planning to get up before noon.

"It seems we're alone here for now."

Michael nodded, spending a quiet morning with his lover - isn't that a dream?

Peter opened a small cupboard with dishes and took out two cups. For himself and for Michael. The teapot was surprisingly warm. Mike watched every action of his beloved, as if enchanted. How he slowly poured water into the cup, then poured tea leaves over it, and finally poured two spoons of sugar into Michael's cup. He knew what Mike loved. They seemed to know everything about each other, from their favorite color to their favorite sleeping position. The hot tea burned his tongue a little, but at that very moment it was impossible to find a person who would be happier than Michael Robert Nesmith.

[toothbrushfingers]

@artinandwritin

The Haddocks’? Dramatic? Nooooo.. Never!

lmao anyways here’s part 2 to the whole… Magnus the unstable father thing…

Reunited:

Åse was 19. Snotlout had just recently saved her life after they were alone on the Edge and hunters attacked. They also shared a kiss… So pretty safe to say something was going on between them. But nothing official!

It had been rather calm the past few weeks, which was weird. No hunters spotted in the area, no sign of the Ryker or Dagur or Heather. It was weird. In fact, nothing had been happening lately. That was until, Johann showed up.

The Riders were about to make their way to Berk; partially to see their family’s, but also to catch Stoick up on what’s been going on as of late. They were packing up their dragons when Johann suddenly docked. Hiccup approached him, thinking maybe he had news of the hunters, but he had news of something else.

He’d found Åse’s father. And he wanted to see her.

She decided to go. Much to Hiccup’s disapproval. And Snotlout decided to go with her. Much to everyone’s surprise. Åse figured, it’s been 13 years, i’m sure he’s a changed man, I’ll give him a chance. So off they went, to find Magnus on some remote island to the south of Outcast Island, while everyone else made their way to Berk.

They found it eventually, and spotted a hut in the center. The Island was rather small and barren. When Åse and Snotlout found Magnus, it didn’t feel real. For any of them. The two entered cautiously, weapons drawn and dragons on their heels. But the first thing Magnus did when he saw Åse, was hug her. It completely caught her off guard. The two caught up, and she introduced Snotlout as her good friend. Magnus immediately knew he was Spitelout’s son, remembering from his time on Berk. He greeted Snotlout with a hug, which was weird to say the least.

Magnus fed them dinner and invited them to stay the night. The 2 planned on leaving before sundown, but they were suddenly so tired, so staying the night didn’t feel like that bad of an idea. The dragons seemed tired too, so they figured it’d be stupid to try and fly home.

Åse and Snotlout shared a room, sleeping next to eachother on the floor, while the dragons slept outside. But when Åse woke in the morning, Snotlout was gone. So were the dragons! And so was Magnus. Shit.

Åse grabbed her stuff and ran out the door to find Magnus shoving a barely continuous Snotlout towards a boat. The dragons were caged, but otherwise unharmed. Where did those cages come from, how could we have missed them?!

Åse drew her bow and shouted to her father. He froze, facing Åse, holding a knife to Snotlout’s throat. It was becoming apparent that Snot was now more awake, and he was terrified. She told him to let them go, or she would shoot. Their stand off only lasted a few brief moments before Magnus slowly moved the knife away from Snotlout’s face. Then he spoke: “I’m sorry Åse, but I have orders..” a knife went into Snotlout’s back and out his stomach.

Åse wasted no time, firing at her father. No, not father, Magnus. She hit him in the shoulder and he flew back, dropping Snotlout. Åse rushed to them, taking the key to the cages from a struggling Magnus. She freed the dragons and took off. Snot flew with Åse, while she forced him to keep pressure on the wound, much to his disliking.

When they made it to Berk it was chaos. She landed in the center of town, where the riders were, before ordering Astrid to get Gothi and the twins to find Spitelout. She, Fishlegs, and Hiccup brought Snotlout to his house. Spitelout came barging in, wanting to know what in Odin’s name was going on. He fell completely silent when he saw.

Once Gothi arrived, and Åse was sure he was in good hands, she took off towards Magnus’s island. Hiccup chased after her, trying to get her to explain to him what exactly happened. She told him it was a set up, that Magnus must be working with the hunters, the he tricked and drugged them.

They found Magnus, along with a good number of hunters. She was right.

Eventually it was a stand off between Åse and Magnus, each having their bows drawn at eachother. A hunter shouted at Magnus to just take her out already, but he couldn’t. He told her he was sorry and he dropped his bow. Before he could even take a step, an arrow was buried in his side and he crumpled. Åse was completely shocked, unable to move, but Hiccup got her to Goldwing and they made their escape.

Åse was silent the entire way home.

Astrid met them when they landed, informing them that Snotlout would be ok before asking what happened. But Åse didn’t answer, she just started walking towards the Jorgenson residence.

She flung the door open, viably shaken. Spitelout was shockingly calm. He stood, telling her he was indeed alive, but asleep. He invited her to sit before asking what happened. When she didn’t answer, he demanded she tell him what happened. And so she did. Spitelout softened, and.. apologized.?

He apologized for being so rude to her in the past, and for slapping her that one time. She promptly apologized for breaking his nose that one time… and for almost getting his son killed.

Spitelout then thanked Åse for saving his son’s life, and Åse was shocked. She’d never seen Spitelout so genuine. Not to mention how awful he’d been to his son in the past. Hopefully this would be a bit of a wake up call.

Snotlout began to stir, and Spitelout left them to catch up.

WHOO that was a lot sorry 😅

anyway, so that’s the end of Magnus’s story, and somewhat the beginning of Åse and Snotlout’s.

Very angsty, very whumpy.

I promise they’re not always like this… just in the beginning a bit. 😀

[minileena]

Zookeeper - part 7

CW: Manipulation

prev - next

I laid my soul bare on the page of the sketchbook.

This piece was a lot more abstract than my other ones. I couldn’t really describe the visuals, save for the fact that it represented how I felt.

Specifically, it represented how I had been pondering the ethics of what I was doing to Evelyn.

I did consider her a peer. A friend. How could I not? She was the only person in three years who treated me like… maybe not an equal, not quite yet, but more than a mindless rodent. And after our conversation the night before, she might even start seeing me as a person.

So if I considered her a friend, what were the ramifications of the fact that I was trying to manipulate her into setting me free?

Because yes, that is absolutely what I was doing. I was exploiting emotional vulnerabilities and sowing the seeds of doubt and guilt with very clear intentions. I purposely gave her an existential crisis so that she’d go to bed the following night and not be able to sleep, kept awake with feelings of guilt and shame for the role she played in my incarceration and the stripping of my personhood and dignity.

But, like, is that even a morally incorrect thing to do? Because while yes, the feelings of regret I was working on implanting in her would hurt her, didn’t she kinda have it coming? I wasn’t really manipulating her so much as I was showing her what she was truly doing to me.

…With malice aforethought.

Did the fact that I felt bad about it mean anything, at least? Like, did my guilt mean that I was just a good person forced to do something kinda fucked up to get out of a situation I’d been unwittingly thrown into? I supposed so, but I was absolutely still using her, and with the intent to fuck with her emotional state, at that.

I supposed that not being in a situation where I could reasonably hope to avoid manipulating Evelyn didn’t necessarily mean that I wanted to hurt her. It just meant that I was aware of what I was doing and the reactions that my actions would evoke. That’s okay, right? That’s not wrong. It’s not unethical to be aware that a slight quiver in my voice would increase her sense of pity and therefore her guilt at her involvement in my situation. It would only be wrong if I abused that.

…Which, uh. I guess I am actively doing in an attempt to escape.

A harsh line I drew on the page snapped the tip of my pencil lead off.

Whatever. Sin first, ask for forgiveness later. I needed out of this fucking cage.

The zoo was closing in a bit. Or maybe it was already closed. I didn’t have a clock in here. Either way, Evelyn would come soon.

Right on cue, I heard the door open. I didn’t turn to face her, instead letting out a casual grunt of acknowledgment as I continued drawing. If I displayed hope, affection or any sort of sadness after our conversation last night, all it would do is crank up the feelings of guilt, and they were already at acceptable levels for my purposes. Nonchalance was the best move here. It would make her see me less as a charity case she was responsible for—that would be bad, as humans tend to just avoid those situations entirely for the sake of their own comfort—and more of a friend in need, which was what I was going for.

The sigh that followed was not Evelyn’s.

My brows furrowed and I turned to glance at the human that had just entered the door.

Jasper.

Shit.

Oh, fuck, it was too late. I went too far with the guilt last night. She felt so bad that she decided she’d rather just leave the situation entirely, wash her hands of it and quit her job so she wouldn’t have to think about me anymore. Fuck, I KNEW I should’ve waited another day so that I could foster more affection. I got impatient and made my move too early.

Okay. Okay, um… m-maybe that’s not what happened. Don’t jump to conclusions. I have time to think about this before immediately resorting to mindless panic.

I have nothing but time.

I closed my sketchbook and laid all my spare pencil leads atop the cover, sitting and fiddling with the pages as Jasper walked over and bent down to be eye level with me. I didn’t meet his gaze.

He flicked the glass and I couldn’t keep myself from flinching.

Fuck, I really needed to work on that. If I’m so weak that I can’t lift more than a couple dozen grams, I should at LEAST be able to master my emotions and reactions.

He chuckled at my weakness before poking around my tank, feeling for holes or tools. There weren’t any. I didn’t need a ladder out of my cage now that I had Evelyn.

His inspection led him to my sketchbook, and he wordlessly picked it up and started leafing through the pages. He stopped on the abstract one I had just been drawing.

“This one’s shit,” he muttered to himself as he tossed it back down into my cage. I had to jump out of the way to avoid getting hit by it on its way down.

Fucking Jasper.

Oh, god, I don’t wanna go back to this… I really, really want Evelyn back.

“What happened to Evelyn?” I managed to work up the courage to ask.

Jasper snorted. “Yeah, I bet you would miss her. She probably treated you like a little princess.”

I opened my mouth to reply with a snarky comment, but stopped myself. I actually had hope now. A friend. Pissing off Jasper was just something I did to entertain myself back when I had nothing else to do and nothing else to lose. I stayed quiet.

He didn’t answer my question.

I noted the use of past-tense. ‘Treated.’ Not ‘treats.’ If he had said she ‘treats’ me like a princess, then she’ll eventually be back. Past-tense meant that she was either gone, or Jasper only meant that she treated me like a princess these past few days. So… I gleaned no information.

I wanted to ask again, but was ashamed to admit that I was too scared to.

If nothing else, Jasper was right about one thing—the game I was forced to play here was one of dominance. I saw weakness in Evelyn and exploited it for my own gain.

Jasper had no such weaknesses.

I was scared of him.

I stayed still as he cleaned my water bowl and refilled my food stock. He left not long after, and I released a breath I didn’t know I had been holding.

I really, really want Evelyn back. Please let her come back tomorrow.

…

Tomorrow came, and Jasper’s face greeted me once again.

prev - next

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine knowing the truth when Halbrand visits you for the last time…

At sundown, Elrond had visited you in the guest quarters. It was a short exchange. He wished to know that you how you were coping before he retired for the night. Once he was satisfied with your reply, he bid you farewell and descended the steps.

In truth, you did not know how to process the news of Halbrand’s identity so you gave a response that Elrond was willing to hear, hoping that a nights rest may help you think clearly the next day.

You blew out a candle by the bed and settled onto the mattress. You had wished for silent dreams but there was only one face that showed - a memory that you shared with Halbrand in Numenor when he came to you with injuries after a street fight.

You had sat him down and cleaned his wounds, lightly scolding him for not walking away. He was bitter about what had happened but thanked you for the aid nonetheless. His eyes captured yours and in that single moment of distraction you had accidentally grabbed a scalding metal pike that was sitting on the bench beside the bandages.

The burning in your hand forced you awake. Sitting up with a gasp, you looked into your palm and saw the fading scars from the incident. That’s when you noticed something in the corner of your eye - the outline of a person standing behind the curtains. 

Straightening your shoulders, you sent a hard stare at fabric before making a demand. “Show yourself.”

The figure moved and Halbrand appeared from behind the curtain like a shadow being given the breath of life. His attire had changed to reflect darker hues which also altered the appearance of his eyes to be more mysterious and dangerous. He walked into the centre of the room and paused, quietly waiting for you.

Had you eyes deceived you? Swinging off the bed, your bare feet touched the cold floors as you stood. Carefully, you approached the man.

“Are you really here?” You asked, careful to keep your voice low.

Halbrand shook his head. “No, I’m far away now. When you did not return like we had planned, I wondered if Galadriel had told you my truth.”

He noticed the way you sucked in a small breath and scoffed. “Of course she did.”

“Why have you come? Was it not enough for you to play such a cruel trick?”

Halbrand’s eyes darkened as his anger grew. “My love for you was no cruel trick. It was unexpected and complex but never false.”

The boom in his voice made your heart jump but you did not know if it was hope, fear or sadness.

“Was this your plan? Gain our trust before driving swords into our backs while we slept?” You asked.

Halbrand frowned. “Do you think that deception and power is all that I crave? It is a fair thought after all the stories that you have heard about my past.” He began to move, circling you. “My plans were simple. I wanted to stay away from Middle Earth until the elf drew me into her mess.”

“One that you started when you joined Morgoth and killed her brother.” You argued. “Along with so many others.”

Halbrand stopped before you. “We do not linger on the past unless we want to squander our lives. I wanted nothing until you entered my company and my mind began to wander about-”

“About what?” You asked.

“About a life with you.”

You wanted to believe him but his true nature changed everything. With a small head shake, you began to walk away, past his apparition. “If you had truly wanted something then you would be here - not halfway to that volcanic wasteland.”

“I still love you.” Halbrand confessed. “And a part of me always will.”

You paused to hear his words unable to deny the feeling of truth and warmth they were able to bestow. You were ready to repeat them them when you turned but the room was empty once more.

Halbrand was gone and this time, it was unlikely that he would return.

Part 1 | Part 2

~ More imagines here ~

[professorrw]

Don't Fake It

marvel masterlist

Pairing: female reader x Peter Quill

Request: peter starts getting frisky with the reader but shes tired and isn’t really in the mood. He would never pressure her or anything but she wants to make him happy and feels bad saying no, so she does it and fakes her orgasm just to get it over with. Later, he somehow finds out (or knew all along, you decide) that she faked it and of course his ego is bruised and he’s kinda annoyed, but also feels guilty she didn’t tell him how she felt. So the next night, she starts coming onto him and he makes damn sure she never fakes it again. Then after, she apologizes for faking it and it gets kinda fluffy because hes like “hey, its not good for me if you’re not having as much fun as I am. I have a right hand if i’m that desperate.”

Warnings: smut, 18+, fluff, faking an orgasm, protected sex, rough sex

A/N: Requests open, taglist open, inbox open! Please like, comment, and reblog!

Sleep was calling your name, digging its claws into you and dragging you into the dark depths of slumber. But there was something stopping it. That thing was Peter. He was wide awake and his sex drive was in full throttle. You weren’t feeling up to it though. The long day at work had taken a toll on you, and the only thing you wanted to do was go to sleep.

You loved Peter, everything about him. You didn’t want to deny him sex, especially when he was being so sweet about it. Your back was to him so he could cuddle you while you slept, but he started to kiss your shoulders and the part of your back that was exposed by your tank top.

“Mmm what is it baby?” you asked groggily.

“I want you,” he replied unashamedly. You could feel Quill shifting his weight behind you. He was peering over your shoulder, trying to look at you. He had missed you all day and you were finally home. What he didn’t know was that you were tired, and not in the mood.

“Oh really?” you mumbled.

“Mhm, I missed you today.” You couldn’t see him but by his sweet tone of voice you could tell that he was sticking his bottom lip out and giving you puppy dog eyes. You smiled and turned around, cupping his face in your hands.

"You know you're adorable right?" you teased.

He smiled, "I know, that's why you can't resist all of this." He wiggled his eyebrows, making you laugh. He was just too cute. You didn't want to tell him no.

When you stopped laughing he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss quickly elevated, his hand snaking up your tight shirt and pressing heat against your lower abdomen. While your eyes were closed, sleep called your name once more, but you ignored it.

Peter pulled back for a minute and reached over to the night stand. He grabbed a condom and pulled his boxers down and put it on, tossing the wrapper back onto the table. He switched positions and crawled on top of you. His face drew closer and he kissed you while he pulled down your sweat shorts.

He got the lube too and squirted some on his covered dick and rubbed the leftovers around near your entrance. With dick in hand he guided his length into you, easing it in as to not hurt you. He let out a long sigh when he got to moving. At least he was feeling good, you thought. Peter was making you feel good too, but you were so tired that if it weren't for the movement you would have fallen asleep.

The pleasure wasn't building like it usually did. You wanted to cum, you wanted to show Peter that he was doing a good job. But you weren't feeling it, and you knew you weren't going to cum. You didn't want to hurt Peter's feelings so as he reached his peak speed and his head lolled back you moaned extra loud, "I'm gonna cum!"

"Me too," he groaned back. His hips pounded into you and his balls slapped against you as he came in his condom. You kept on moaning a little, acting like you had actually cum too.

Peter slowed then pulled out. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and went to the bathroom to clean up. He went to take his condom off and realized there was no cum on the outside of it. You said you had cum, but there wasn't anything other than lube on there. Quill didn't want to assume you had faked it, but he didn't want to ask right away either.

He threw the condom away and went back to your bedroom. You were already out cold, and when Peter saw he sighed and crawled into bed, completely dejected. He was embarrassed that he couldn’t make you cum, and a little annoyed that you wouldn’t just tell him. But he let those thoughts drift away so he could fall asleep.

The next morning you woke up early for work again. Peter was still asleep so you didn’t wake him and instead went about your morning routine. Three minutes before you needed to leave you wrote a little note on the refrigerator for him, “I hope you slept well hunny, I’ve already left for work by the time you wake up but I just wanted to say I love you and I’ll see you later <3”

About an hour later Quill rolled out of bed and dragged himself into the kitchen. He wasn’t a morning person by any means. The coffee machine beeped and he pushed himself off of the counter to pour himself a cup. He set his mug down on the counter and went to the refrigerator to get milk and creamer. Your note, which he noticed just then, made him stop mid pull. He shut the refrigerator and took the note off so he could get a better look at it. A tired smile spread on his face.

Then he remembered last night. It was odd that there wasn’t anything on his condom, and you didn’t get up to clean yourself off right after he did. Now that he thought about it, you went straight to sleep. How unusual. He pushed the thought aside and decided he would bring it up later. It wasn’t making him mad, but he was a little wounded that you had faked it, or if you even did fake it.

Lucky for you, work was slow and you got off early. On the way home you picked up lunch for you and Peter. It was in a way an apology for your tiredness last night and faking your orgasm, whether he knew about it or not.

Keys jingling together you unlock the door and step in with takeout in hand. “Quill I’m home!” you shout.

He power walks out of the bedroom and just about tackles you into a bear hug. You giggle and kiss his stubbled cheek. “I missed you,” you say into his ear.

“I missed you moooore,” he replies. “How was work?”

“Better than yesterday, I’ll tell you that. Plus I got off early, so that’s even better. I get to spend more time with you.” You kiss his cheek again and he smiles before setting you back down. The food gets set on the kitchen counter and you pull out the chinese you got. You hand Peter his usual order and take out your own.

There’s only the quiet sound of eating for a few minutes before Peter says something. “Y/N I need to ask you something.”

You look over at him. He rarely calls you by your first name. That means he’s being serious. “What is it?”

He wants to ask about your orgasm but you’re right in the middle of eating and he doesn’t want to interrupt you. He can just ask later, he thinks to himself. He thinks of something else to ask and quickly thinks of, “Can you pass me some soy sauce?”

You quirk an eyebrow at him but hand him a few packs and go back to eating.

Later that night, a few hours later, you were laying in bed doing nothing in particular. Thoughts of last night were filling both your heads. Peter was set on trying to ask you about it, and you were set on trying to make up for it.

The both of you were sitting up in bed and you set your phone down on your bedside table and leaned over. You set a hand on Peter’s bare chest and he instantly stopped what he was doing. His eyes shot to yours, a sly smile on your face. He could tell exactly what it was you wanted.

“Peter,” you whispered against his lips. Your mouth was an inch away from his and your eyes were drifting between his and his lips. He parted his mouth and leaned forward, capturing you before you could make a move. You were trying to take the lead, but he wasn’t letting you.

He overpowered you, flipping you around and putting you on your knees. His bulge was against your ass and he was rubbing circles against it. The intensity he was showing was like nothing before. Whatever it was that was riling him up you needed to find out. It would have to wait until later though, because your panties being dragged down your thighs was the only thing you could think of.

A condom and lube had already been taken out of the drawer, and Peter was putting them on. The room was silent other than the rustling of sheets and your heart hammering in your chest. Then there was the squirting of the lube and you knew it was about to come. The cold goo was smeared on your folds and slightly inside of them by Quill’s rough fingers.

His tip, covered by a condom, was right at your entrance in a second, and in just one more, it was inside you. Your whole body was pushed forward with the force that Peter was thrusting. You were moaning and panting, and he was smiling between his own groans. His goal was to make sure you never had to fake an orgasm again. And with the way things were going you wouldn’t need to.

“Oh- Oh my god!” The way he was slamming into you was so quick and hard the pressure inside of you was building like a balloon being blown up.

His hands were holding you and keeping you from falling over. If they weren’t you would have smacked into the headboard. You couldn’t stay on your hands any longer, you dropped to your elbows, back making a beautiful arch for Quill.

The unbearable speed was tiring Quill out, but it was also making his orgasm come even quicker. He grabbed your shoulders, giving himself even more leverage to thrust with.

Your knees were trembling, jelly below you. But you wouldn’t have to hold that position for much longer. That balloon inside you popped like too much air had been blown into it. Your walls clenched around Peter’s cock, and the cum he was searching for yesterday covered his condom. He kept his pace, legs killing him and pelvis hitting your ass.

He let out a loud groan, and cum leaked and squirted from his tip. He let go of your shoulders, seeing a red handprint there. He pulled out of you, your cum dribbling out when he did. He smiled, satisfied that he had done what he set out to do.

Your lower half ached and you all but collapsed onto your pillows. You flipped over and saw Peter above you, buttcheeks against the heels of his feet and catching his breath. You laughed just a little and he opened his eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“That was something else,” you admitted with a smile.

“Good.” He crawled onto his stomach and laid next to you with his head on his arms. You scooted over closer to him, laying on your back with your hands set on your stomach.

“Y/N,” he sat up, “last night,” he started.

“I already know what you’re going to say. I’m sorry. I should have told you. I was just super tired last night and I didn’t want to deny you.” You looked down at your stomach but Peter turned your face back to his with his thumb.

“It’s okay, really. I’m sorry I didn’t catch that you weren’t in the mood. If you ever don’t want to do stuff just tell me okay? I won’t be upset. Besides, it’s not good for me if you aren’t having as much fun as I am. I have a right hand if I get that desperate.” He waved his right hand and grinned.

You giggled, “I promise I won’t do it again.”

[waka-chan-out]

Jet Lag

based on this request

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 2.2k

content warnings: established relationship, somnophilia, consensual nonconsent, oral (f. recieving), light hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, technically cockwarming at the end?

i will reiterate that this is not dubcon or noncon. this is 100% consensual and that is written into the story. do not read if this concept is upsetting to you, but there is no surprise element of genuine nonconsent here. if you have questions, please read my explanation here.

When Kiyoomi’s eyes opened he realized it was still dark outside. He was jet-lagged after returning from his most recent tournament, and it was really getting on his nerves that he couldn’t sleep through the night. His hand absentmindedly combed through your hair. You were such a heavy sleeper, barely stirring even when he was restless and awake. You hummed and nuzzled further against his chest.

He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and checked the time. 4 am. Damn it. At least he was making some progress towards a full night of sleep. His few nights at a hotel on the way back had seen him waking just after midnight and falling asleep when the team was out to dinner, much to Atsumu’s delight. He flipped through the notifications he’d gotten since last night and miserably wondered why anyone would contact him at this hour.

Your hand shifted from around his waist. He glanced down in amusement. It dragged down towards his lower stomach, then back up to his chest. The touch sent goosebumps through his body. You continued the movement, massaging at his abdomen with a steady palm and wandering fingers. It was one part soothing, another part horrifyingly arousing.

Your hand slowed on his stomach, traveling father down and settling there. You had laid your hand right on his — shit. Was he hard?

Kiyoomi stared up at the ceiling. How desperate was he that a simple touch like that put him in this state?

He had to admit, though, your hand probably wasn’t the only reason he was like this. You had kicked down the sheets, exposing your bare legs where they were tangled with his. You were only wearing a large t shirt and an immodest pair of underwear. It all felt very deliberate, just like the way your hand was now resting directly on his achingly hard cock.

He slid his hand down your body and pulled up the side of your shirt. He carefully ran his fingers along your skin. He felt your stomach flutter at his touch, and you shifted so you were on your back, legs parted and abdomen exposed. Shit.

Kiyoomi let his hand glide under your shirt once again. His fingers traced along your skin to your chest, where he gently tugged at one of your nipples. You tipped your head to the side and he swore that you smiled in your sleep.

He continued the gentle slide of his fingers, moving between the soft buds until your hips were shifting against the bed. He smiled down at you. You looked so cute like this, responsive to him even in your sleep. He tried to be slow and patient, but the way your breath fluttered his hair made it hard to control himself.

He slid his hand down his boxers and, even though he was expecting it, he was still shocked by just how hard he was already. He closed his eyes at the feeling of his hand pumping up and down on his cock. It was good, so good, but it wasn’t enough.

He wanted to touch you. His hand felt okay but god, your skin was so soft and you were so receptive, even while asleep. He could see the deep rise and fall of your chest, your nipples peeking out from your soft shirt, the slight angle of your hips. Your words echoed in his head, telling him “it’s okay, you can wake me up. or not. i don’t mind.” He felt dirty, but you had made it clear that it was okay, welcome even.

He experimentally ran his hand down your figure again, stopping at the hem of your underwear. He pressed his hand between your legs, rubbing you gently through the cloth barrier. You hummed in your sleep and he smiled, pleased. He put a little more pressure in the movement, dragging his fingers over your clothed clit. You didn’t respond as much this time, but the way he could feel the fabric dampening under his touch told him everything he needed to know.

He continued to pump his cock as he pushed the fabric to the side to touch you for real. A small shudder left him as he felt just how ready you were for him, even fast asleep. You were his every second of the day, any time he wanted you.

He slowed his grip on himself and focused on slipping a finger inside of you. The angle was awkward, but he couldn’t resist adding another. Fuck, you were so wet. If he knew you’d react like this he would’ve taken advantage of your suggestion earlier. His hand on his cock felt so boring when you were right there, completely ready for him.

He removed his fingers and, before he could think it through, slipped them between his lips. Jesus. The taste on his tongue was too tempting. He carefully withdrew from beside you, holding the sheets up as he shifted between your legs.

You were always a heavy sleeper. That’s why even when he pressed his mouth against you and swirled his tongue, your only response was a shift of your hips. He sighed against you, trying to remember a the last time he had felt so at home somewhere. The tournament had taken him away from you for far too long, and he had passed out as soon as he crawled into bed with you. He hadn’t had time to show you how much he had missed you, not properly. You knew, of course, because he had called you at least twice, cock in hand, begging to hear about your day. You didn’t say anything about it, but he was sure you knew that he just desperately needed your voice in his ear as he came.

His grip on your thighs was usually almost bruising, but now it was light, a gentle loop around your thighs to keep you from shutting him out in your sleep. He wondered if he could make you come without waking you up. After you had told him you wanted this, he researched it, of course. He knew it was possible. Judging by the way your breathing was picking up, he might have a chance. Your body stayed mostly still against the bed, weighed down by the anchor of sleep. He wondered if you were aware of what was happening. He wondered if the feeling between your legs carried and he was fucking you in your dreams.

He got a little careless as he watched your face for every small reaction. Your breathing was uneven and your brow just slightly furrowed. He was trying to be gentle, but he couldn’t help running his tongue sloppily from your entrance to your clit and sucking. It caused your body to tense, and your hips shifted just slightly. He thought for a moment that you might wake up and, though he’d be a little disappointed, he knew you would bury your hands in his hair and pull just the way he liked and he’d forget to mind after all. But you didn’t wake up, and he realized you were shaking. Holy shit, he had been right. You were coming, so gently and quietly that he might not have noticed if he wasn’t so familiar with what every flex of your body meant.

He closed his eyes and continued the gentle curl of his tongue, not stopping until your body went still and you let out a small sigh. He pulled his head away and wiped his mouth on the collar of his shirt, more than pleased with himself. He shifted back beside you and was once again reminded just how hard he was, more so now than ever. He wanted you, so badly, and he couldn’t wait until the morning. Fuck, it was technically morning, and you had given him the okay, and you were already so wet that you’d probably barely notice the gentle push of his cock if he just lifted your leg and slipped inside.

He settled down beside you and wrapped a hand around your waist, trying to gently coax you onto your side. It took a moment of careful touches, slowly pulling you closer to him until you rolled and settled, back flush against his chest. He smiled and brushed your hair away from the back of your neck, pressing a kiss right at the nape as he slipped an arm under your pillow. The other he used to hold your leg up, right under the knee until he could get close and line himself up with your entrance. He continued pressing barely there kisses to your neck as he retook hold of your leg and, as slowly as he could with what remained of his self control, pushed inside of you.

He gasped and leaned his face into your hair, trying to anchor himself before he continued moving. It had been far too long since he had been able to bury himself inside of you, and fuck he had missed it. The arm under your pillow came up to grasp your opposite shoulder, keeping you held tightly against him.

He gathered his thoughts and drew his hips back. He moved slowly, gently, grinding into you rather than thrusting. He wanted to drag this out, wanted it to last, because you were so pliable and felt so good, it would be a waste to not take advantage of it. Every tender movement felt like its own little universe, hanging in the dark and silence and disappearing on his next exhale.

The only thing that could tear him from that world was the subtle twitch of your fingers, the nuzzle of your face against the pillow, then, finally, the steadying of your breath, pulled out of the long, slow rhythm of sleep.

You let out a small, sleepy noise, almost like you were stretching, and slipped a hand back to bury in his hair.

“Omi,” you mumbled. He smiled against your skin and continued his quiet shift inside of you.

“Shh. I’ve got you.” He sighed heavily, appreciating the new wiggle of your hips, like you were trying to press closer, bury him deeper. He held your leg tighter and pushed father on his next thrust in, holding himself inside of you. You let out a startled gasp and tightened your hand in his hair. He groaned, deep in his chest. Fuck, you could tear his hair out and he’d probably just pick up the pace.

He resumed his movement, not afraid of going a little harder now that you were awake. You were still groggy, but the way your hands gripped his wrist and his curls told him you were with him, feeling every bit as desperate and wanting as he was. His breath was coming in pants now, right in your ear, and he could feel you shivering at the feeling.

“Fuck,” he sighed. “You’re so good. Gonna make me come.”

You responded with a quiet moan, barely registering his words over the deep, delicious ache between your legs.

His rutted into you a little faster, as quick as he could stand when the haze of sleep was lurking at the back of both your minds. He let himself groan into your ear, not caring how needy he sounded. You were so good, and you felt so good, and you pulled his hair a little harder and he couldn’t stand it anymore.

His arms were rigid around you and he pushed his hips flush against you as he came. He let out what he was sure was the most desperate, fucked-out sound he had ever made, barely able to breathe as he spilled inside of you. There he was again, suspended in time, the darkness swallowing every breath as the fuzzy feeling in his brain faded, then disappeared.

He was left panting against you, vaguely aware that he was sweaty and horribly hot and you were combing your hand through his hair rather than pulling in. He tipped his head against your shoulder and let out a breathy laugh.

“Morning,” he said. You turned your face back and he met you with a kiss, gentle and a little sloppy because of the exhaustion settling through his body.

“Hi,” you whispered, smiling against his lips. He kissed you quickly, once, twice, and again, missing your mouth entirely on the last one. You laughed and he started to withdraw from you. You grabbed his hip before he could go any farther.

“Stay,” you said. He didn’t have the energy to ask what you were talking about, but you could hear the confusion in his tired grunt. “Sleep, Omi. Come here.” You grabbed his arm and pulled it around your waist, forcing him to settle closer, if that was possible, and press his face against the back of your neck. His eyes wouldn’t stay open, no matter how hard he tried to fight them. An unwavering heavy feeling spread through his body as he listened to your slowing breath and felt fingers running slowly through his now tangled curls.

The last thing he heard before his mind shut off entirely was an amused, whispered “I missed you.”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 8

Summary: Forced to face their feelings, neither the Darkling nor his wife dare to speak them out loud. Influenced by Genya’s words, Y/N starts to wonder about her husband’s past.

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol, sexual content

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven  

=================================

As a young girl, Y/N often daydreamed about her first time. She believed it would be with a kind man who’d move mountains to find her if she called his name. Reality was quite different – this man wasn’t kind, but he’d burn the world for her.

Whether he realized it, she saw through him easily. The Darkling is a symbol, the fear surrounding his name is all for show because he’s not evil. In fact, she’d go as far as say he’s redeemable. Anyone capable of love is capable of being saved and while she didn’t know what he needed saving from, her heart told her he’ll need her. And she knew he cared, she felt it in the way he held her in that tent, and again in the way he’d touch her when he had all the power just the night before.

Moving her head toward the other side of the bed, Y/N looked at her sleeping husband. His lashes are long, thick and dark, a beard that tickled her neck adorning his face. Asleep, his cheekbones were not as sharp, his face much more welcoming and relaxed. He didn’t seem as the formidable foe she imagined him to be.

Aleksander laid on his side, facing her. Pursing her lips, Y/N allowed her eyes to roam over him. His broad chest had a small area of dark, curling hair. His muscles are made large, shapely mounds. His arms are capped by a round, firm muscle. Biting her lower lip, her eyes continued down to his hard, flat stomach with faint lines forming separate areas of muscles, making her swallow thickly. It was only after a moment that her eyes went lower. What she saw did not seem so powerful as it felt the previous night, but as she watched, his manhood began to grow.

She gasped and her eyes flew back to his. He was awake, watching her intently with a smirk, his eyes growing darker by the moment. No longer was he the gentle man she had awakened to, but a man of passion, the general who showed her he was just as capable of leading a woman in the bed as he was of leading an army on the field.

Y/N tried to move away but Aleksander still held her trapped by her hair that strayed on his side, under his back. What was worse, she didn’t even want to fight him. Y/N recalled her plans for him clearly; but this was more than a plan she carelessly implemented. Everything was different now when she had the memory of his body and the pleasure he infused her with when he made love to her. Could that term even be applied to them, she wondered. Did he see it as making love or simply satisfying his needs?

“Stubborn wife,” he whispered and the tone of his voice made chills run along her arms. It’s more than the tone he used or the look of his dark eyes that had her insides turning, but the words he had spoken…it almost felt like a term of endearment coming from him.

Grimacing, she rolled her eyes at him, “Dreadful husband.”

Pursing his lips, he seemed amused rather than insulted.

She was right, their relationship has changed.

Irrevocably.

Last night she had thought she learned all there was to know about love between a man and a woman, but now she thought, perhaps she knew very, very little. There was much more to learn from this man and of this man and how to use that knowledge for her own gain, but right now? She just wanted to let herself go. She wanted to enjoy his company. For once, he was good-natured, playful even. She felt genuinely happy in their little bubble.

For a moment, Y/N wished to stay there. She wished he could always look at her as he is now.

She looked at him, his hair still a mess in the bright morning sunlight. She watched him intently, perplexed how he could look more handsome and more human than she’d ever seen him.

His eyes are nearly black as he pulls her to him again. He runs his tongue along her lips, touching the inner corners especially. She parted her teeth for him, desperate for a taste of him. He’s better than the richest honey; hot and cold, soft and firm. She explored his mouth as he had explored hers, no longer shy or reserved with him. How could she be when his fingers have delved lower, pushing inside her?

Gasping, she smiles against his lips. “Genya will be here soon”, she warns him.

"I don't fucking care", he insisted as he crashed into her, his arms wrapping around her like a cage she never wished to escape from. He brought his mouth on hers, inhaling her, "Do you even know what it feels like to be around you?! I can't", he paused as his arms drew away from her and she shuddered as he took the warmth they provided. With bruised lips, she watched as he ran his hand through what used to be perfectly tousled hair. Disheveled, he turns to her, "I can't breathe around you."

She chuckles at him, "Well, I am breathtakingly beautiful."

Rolling his eyes, the Darkling shakes his head, "Well, you're not unattractive. I'll concede on that."

She ran her hands over his back as he lowered his head to her neck, running his tongue along the pulsating beat of her carotid, the only friend he had in her – her pulse couldn’t hide how enamored or exhilarated he made her feel. Instinctively she leaned her head back, her breathing turning deeper, quicker.

When his lips and tongue touched her breasts, she nearly cried out. She thought perhaps she might die under such torture. Trying to pull his head back to her mouth failed as he gave a deep, guttural laugh that made her shiver, her insides turning with the sweet melody and her heart? Her heart felt warm, big and incredibly full.

Maybe he did own her.

A knock on the door had interrupted their bliss as Y/N stiffened, looking at the door in slight panic. If someone saw them right now, no one would doubt their marriage was a successful love match. They seemed happy, truly in love. That’s not how it was meant to be.

“Someone doesn’t value their life”, he grumbled under his breath. “GO AWAY!”

Clasping a hand over his mouth, she chuckled. “Who is it?!”

“General?” Ivan’s voice faded her smile instantly.

Even with Aleksander’s hands cupping her bottom, his body covering her and the door being shut, Y/N felt ashamed as if she was bare in front of the entire world.

“Unless the world is burning, leave me alone!” Pecking Y/N’s lips, he smirked, “I never get a peaceful morning anymore.”

Come to think of it, Y/N never found him in the bed when she woke up. This was the very first night they spent together and he stayed by her side. Considerate was never a word she’d use describing him before, but he is considerate, kind and incredibly cautious when it comes to her. It made her heart sink.

Hearing no word from Ivan, Aleksander’s hand moved. Caressing the inside of her thighs, he made her shake in desire. Holding her breath, she bit her lower lip. Still sore from the night before, she felt her stomach twist as he lined himself up with her entrance once more. Pushing himself inside, he captures her lips as she cries out. The pleasure is undeniable, but she couldn’t deny there was pain too. She clutched at him, her legs pressing around his waist as she rose to meet each thrust. Sweet torment he had inflicted felt as if it would split her in two - one Y/N to plot his demise and the other who’d never let him leave her bed.

Finally, when she was sure her heart would explode, she felt the pulsing throbs that released her and soon after, Y/N felt him speed up and his own release followed. Collapsing on top of her, Aleksander held her so close that she could hardly breathe. In that moment she didn’t really care if she ever did breathe again.

Aleksander didn’t move, still buried deep inside her as if she is his saving grace. It’s insane to think he could fuck her into submission and feelings. It was impossible to ignore the fact that she developed feelings for him, but that realization created doubts. Eventually, something will have to break – and the thought of hurting him suddenly felt too much to bear.

“Are you alright?” He moved her hair out of her face, remaining on top of her as if she’s a conquered territory he refused to leave.

Swallowing thickly, she nods. “Why aren’t you moving?”

Eyes widening, the Darkling felt heat rush to his face. He was trying to be sweet, to show her it was more than a quick fuck. It was indescribable for him – a dawn after a long night he’s lived in. No woman ever lessened the loneliness inside his heart and then she waltzed into his life. He couldn’t imagine living without her again. She was the northern star in his dark sky and he never wanted to leave.

“I should see Ivan about earlier”, he murmured, nearly wincing as he pulled out. She wrapped herself up in the sheets again, her eyes wide as she stared ahead, thinking about how badly she’s already failing her mission.

Frowning as she shifted, Y/N felt Aleksander’s semen leave her. She cleared her throat, her eyes watering. She felt disgusted with herself, like she needed her skin rubbed off with scalding hot water and peeled off if that didn’t work. She could feel him, smell him on every inch of her skin and the worst of it all? She loathed just how cold she felt when his arms weren’t wrapped around her. She absolutely detested how giddy her heart felt when she saw the shit-eating grin on his face as he brought her to climax.

“When will we visit the armies by the fold?” She asked, switching into the woman she is instead of the woman she’s molded into by his lips.

Impassive, he looked back at her as he worked on the buttons of his shirt. “Why? Don’t believe I’ve kept my word?”

It unnerved her just how cold his voice felt, how impersonal. Standing, she wrapped the nightgown around her body. Taking his kefta in her hands, she held it open for him to slip into.

His eyes flicker from the kefta to her, as if he’s confused as well. It felt odd not knowing their place now. Their previous dynamic was easy to settle into, bickering felt like second nature. Conversing without spewing venom brought unfamiliar discomfort mostly because they’d much rather return to the bed behind them. Leaving that room carried an unspoken possibility of their time together being nothing but a fluke – a onetime deal. The outside world carries responsibilities, the kind that places them on opposite sides of the war.

“Thank you”, he turns around, allowing her to help dress him. Wives do that, he realized. Loving wives help their husbands dress just as often as they help them undress. Husbands do the same for their wives – though he much preferred the undressing part.

He kissed her brow unexpectedly, eyes flickering to her trembling lips as they passed a surprised gasp. “I know you want to see the results on a field, but rest assured I’ve kept my word.” Licking his lips, he reached for a glass from behind her. Pouring himself a glass, he watched her gnaw on her lower lip. For once, the ice queen showed there are emotions inside her capable of more than just disdain.

Breaking out of her daze, she cleared her throat. “I prefer to have confirmation”, she remarked.

Snorting, he looks up in frustration. He wanted to grab her by the throat as he would with any other human who’d dare challenge him, question him. In his mind, he pinned her to the bed, his hands wrapped around her delicate little wrists. ‘Don’t play games with me’, he’d say, ‘Don’t ever think you’re capable of that.’ He wanted so badly to treat her the same, as an enemy, but she had done something to him. No matter how hard he wished he could fight it, something inside him came to life – his heart beats unburdened by the shadows, for her. It was always going to be her.

“I guess I’m asking you to trust me”, he looked at her with a softness he visibly struggled with. His hand griped the glass far too tightly for it to fool her. He was hurt by her insinuation and she didn’t know how to respond.

“Aleksander.” Calling him by his first name for the first time felt so natural, but terrifying as his eyes lit up when it crossed her lips.

He shuddered. “Say it again”, he commanded, his eyes darkened as he pressed his lips together.

The look on her face would surely haunt him for an eternity. She was shocked, maybe even frightened. She didn’t mean to call him by his name, she had made a mistake and he could read it on her face.

She spun, fleeing into the bathroom. She ran from him like he had come to steal her soul. He thought about chasing after her, but it would be futile. She would return on her own. She lost the game, she was his. He swallowed his whisky and smiled. Perhaps the way his heart fluttered at the sound of his true name passing her lips should have been a sign he lost the game too, but he didn’t give it a second thought.

She is his.

Once he left, she did exactly as she wished – she scrubbed herself clean of any remainders of him. He’ll walk around with her scent clinging to him, but she will not be branded his. Though her hips bear his markings, she felt satisfied they were easily covered with a kefta.

“You don’t have to say it”, Genya raised an eyebrow at the shadows of Kirigan’s fingertips across her friend’s hips.

“Say what?” Y/N narrowed her eyes, her heart picking up pace.

Smirking, Genya lowered her voice, “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N, exhaled audibly through her nose. “It wasn’t terrible.”

“Ha!” Genya clapped her hands, “We are winning today!”

Raising her eyebrows, Y/N turned her undivided attention to an overly excited Genya. “Care to explain?”

“Well”, she shrugged innocently, “I may have found us a new ally.”

Stunned, Y/N sat on the edge of the bathtub. “Who?”

“David”, Genya exclaimed.

“Isn’t he Kirigan’s little…pet?”

Knitting her eyebrows, Genya huffed, “No! He’s a brilliant man and he believes in equality and a brighter future.”

“But can we trust him with the secret?”

Swallowing thickly, Genya paused. Inhaling deeply, she nods. “I’d vouch for him.”

“I need concrete proof”, Y/N sighs, “This isn’t going to end well for us if he decides to spill everything to Kirigan!”

Rubbing her temples, Y/N felt as if the pressure inside her head would cause her brain to burst. It’s pressing in, choking every good idea she’s ever had.

“What would happen if he did know?” Genya crouched before her. With her hands on Y/N’s knees, Genya sighed. “Maybe he’d be receptive too.”

Snorting, Y/N couldn’t believe how naïve Genya is. “No. He’d be too angry to see the big picture.”

It didn’t matter that he’s begun colonizing Y/N’s heart or that every inch of her skin craved the touch of his hand. It felt as if she were invincible when he stood beside her, as if he had made her fireproof. No scar hurt when he kissed her, no grief was too difficult to bear when he looked at her.

“Damn it”, Y/N covered her face, “I want to believe in him, I do.” She couldn’t help but wonder if her feelings are the aftermath of the night he saved her life or the night of ecstasy he had given her. Is it really genuine emotion or did her heart move to her vagina?

“So believe”, Genya encouraged. A sympathetic smile adorned her full lips, her eyes kinder than before.

“How can I ever trust him when he’s got a superiority complex regarding humans? He’s never going to willingly protect one!”

“He did with you”, Genya pressed her lips into a thin line. “You’re paranoid because you are afraid allowing yourself to see the good in him might actually make you love him.”

And she is. She’s afraid to love him or let him love her. What would be the point? In the end, they’re too different.

“Talk to David again”, Y/N stood, sniffling. “I’ll head to the library.”

Genya raised an eyebrow. “Library?”

The first casualty of war is innocence and Y/N had none left. She was once called ‘angel’ by her father, by her comrades in the army too. She was the epitome of a pure heart who would sacrifice itself for others. She didn’t feel like an angel anymore, but she will play the part. No one expects an angel to set the world on fire.

“Yeah”, Y/N breathes out. “I want to look for something.” Truth be told, she wanted to research Aleksander and his lineage.

If the dark heretic is from his bloodline, she needed to know everything about him, about the hearts of those he came from. If she’s ever going to consider her husband as an ally, she has to know him – all of him. If she asked, she worried he’d cover up the darkest parts of him. He’d deem her too human to understand, too fragile to know all the horrors that tie into who he’s become.

It was time to find out if she could trust Aleksander.

=============================

Tags: @bruxa0007​ @rangotangomango​ @kaitlyn2907​ @thestoryofmylife9​ @shelivesindaydreamswme​ @hxrgreeves​ @safetyhtom​ @kaqua​ @savannah-elliott​ @all-art-is-quite-useless​  @azure23x​ @girlmadeofavocados​ @ashdab2611​ @acciorudolphx​ @ladyblablabla​ @wckedheart​ @xceafh​ @sanna2020​ @tarkanelima-blog​ @takethee​ @mellifluous-cosmos​ @marvel-ousnesss​ @tea-effect​ @starlightofsolaria​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @blackbirddaredevil23​ @sarcastic-and-cool​ @slytherinsbiggestproblem​ @within-thehollowcrown​ @notthatchhavi​ @musicconversedance​ @freakytillthemoon​  @lgkoval​ @honeyofthegods​ @queenmalhinewahine​ @misselsbells06​  @whatthefluffrichard​ @aami98​ @britriestbr​ @itsfangirlmendes​ @padme-parker​ @readingsssssssss​ @runawayolives​ @thehighladyofasgard​ @emlynblack​ @keithseabrook27​ @dailydoseofchoices​ @deceivedeer​ @olympiacosplay​ @pansysgirlfriend​

Part 9

[fivelakesinwriting]

Treasure Hunt (JJ Maybank)

Author's Notes: JJ gets The Chateau to himself for a night.. I haven't committed to writing a full JJ smut yet. Perhaps one day. The inspiration for this fic came from a line from a Drew story I wrote. Let me know what you think if you have a moment! xoxo

Warnings: Sexual innuendos - sexual references (Little smutty) , Swearing.

Requested? Nope. But requests for OBX are open!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

It wasn't very often that JJ Maybank had any one space to himself. He felt like an unwanted guest in his own home, the place he grew up in. And he knew one day he would overstay his welcome at John B's house. For now, his presence was welcome at the Routledge house so he stayed as much as he could.

Tonight was one of the nights JJ had The Chateau all to himself. He had told himself he would be, a respectful young man and not invite his girlfriend over for full naked reign over the house. He told himself he had enough self control to sit on the couch and watch whatever movies were on television for one night. Or that he could find some old DVDs, or even a VHS kicking around.

"What room do you wanna do it in first?" JJ smirked as he pulled his cutoff tank top over his head and tossed it carelessly across the living room.

Within ten minutes of being alone, JJ wrestled with the idea of a night by himself, then quickly ran down the street to her house and told her come over.

"Couch. We never get to do it on the couch." She smiled as she pressed her hands to his chest then backed him towards the threadbare couch that rested against the back window of the house.

The back of JJ's legs hit the couch and he let his body fall with an umph down. He grabbed her hips and pulled her to straddle his lap, his fingertips brushing over the skin beneath her shirt as he kept her close.

JJ made a show of pulling off her shirt. Slowly, and with great care, he pulled off the loose tank top and tossed it elsewhere in the house. He smiled at the soft lace bralette, jade green, beneath her shirt, a sweet change of pace from the bathing suit tops he usually saw her in. Not that he minded.

"Cute." JJ stated flatly as he tugged at the strap of her bralette with his index finger.

"Thanks. You can borrow it, if you want." She laughed as she threaded her fingers in his messy blonde hair.

"Next kegger, I might." JJ chucked as he laid both his palms flat on her back to pull her flush against him then silenced her with a kiss. He reached behind her to skillfully unhook her bra, pulling the straps down her arms then throwing the soft material somewhere within The Chateau.

She breathed a sigh of relief against his lips as she pulled at his hair, her thighs pressed tightly against his while her hips swiveled down on his lap. JJ grinned into the kiss as he used his body strength to flip her back to the couch and lay between her thighs.

"You have too many buttons on your shorts." JJ grumbled as his thick fingers fumbled with the gold buttons that lined her high-waisted shorts.

She laughed as she reached between them to help him with her shorts. She usually chose fashion over function, but if she was going to be with JJ, she might have to rethink that choice. She thumbed open the delicate buttons of her shorts and lifted her hips to let him know he was able to take the dark blue material off of her.

JJ grinned while he slid her shorts down her legs then tossed them over his shoulder. He knelt between her legs on the couch to pull his own shirt over his shoulders to throw it somewhere else in the living room. He laid back down on top of her, one arm holding his weight on the arm of the couch in front of him while the other kept a firm grip on her thigh.

"JJ.." She groaned as she wriggled beneath him, her hands on his bare shoulders.

"Yeah?" JJ asked as he kissed along her neck towards her shoulder.

"There's a spring from the couch cushion digging into my back. I'm rethinking our decision to have sex here." She replied as she placed her hands on his neck to prompt his head up from the crook of her neck to make him look at her.

"My room?" JJ asked as he looked down at her with swollen lips, his hair even messier from her hands tugging at it.

"Please." She nodded as she began to sit up again, a soft push of his chest.

JJ sat up, climbing off the couch and with a tug of her hand easily pulled her up with him. JJ bent at the waist to put her over his should, a smile on his face as she squealed when he placed a soft smack on her backside.

JJ carried her the few short steps through the house, down the hallway and into the spare room that he called his own. He carefully laid her down on the bed and smiled down at her while she looked up at him with just her jade green thong on. She reached for him, her fingers curling in the air, while her legs fell open to accommodate his frame.

JJ dropped his body down onto the body between her thigh, his weight held on his forearms above her. He smiled as he pressed his forehead to hers then playfully nudged her nose with his.

"Ready for me?" JJ asked as he knelt on the bed and unzipped his shorts.

"Yes, JJ." She smiled as she reached forward to run her fingers along the plains of his abs.

..

Even in the early morning the sun was hot through the spare room that JJ Maybank called home. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, careful not to wake the girl who still slept soundly on his chest.

"What time is it, JJ?" She asked softly against his pecs.

"It's like...9am or something." JJ muttered as he reached for the digital clock on the bedside table and turned it towards him.

"It's 9am? Shit. JJ, my parents have been awake for an hour now. I have to go home." She gasped as she shot up in bed and looked around the room to find her clothes.

JJ reached at the headboard behind him and pulled her jade green thong down to hand them to her.

"Let the treasure hunt begin." He smirked as he climbed out of bed and pulled on his shorts from the day before.

She kicked her legs up, pulled her underwear back on, then rolled out of bed and ran through the halls with JJ to find her clothes that had been carelessly tossed throughout the house.

"Damnit, JJ!" She yelled as she stood in the kitchen topless, hands on her hips.

"It's not my fault." JJ laughed as he looked through the living room. He released a call of triumph as he found her shirt and held it high in the air. He tossed it over his shoulder and continued his hunt for the rest of her clothes.

"Pants, JJ! I need pants." She muttered as she walked quickly into the living room with him.

"Not from where I'm standing." JJ smirked as he tipped his head and watched as she bent over to sort through a mess of blankets and clothes.

"Focus, Maybank!" She replied with a snap of her fingers.

JJ breathed out a laugh then continued his search for her bra and her shorts. He turned around and looked at the other side of the living room and squeezed his fist with pride as he found her shorts as he found her bra slung over the recliner chair.

"Babe! Shirt and bra." JJ called as he tossed her top and bra over to her, a weak tug in his heart as he watched her get dressed again.

"Thank you. Now where are my damn shorts?" She breathed out as she smoothed her shirt over her stomach.

"I didn't think I threw them that far." JJ replied with a scratch of the back of his neck while he tried to avoid looking at her legs.

As the two were about to come with another game plan, the front door of The Chateau opened and John B walked in. He stopped in his tracks, eyebrows raised as he saw his best friend shirtless in the living with a girl in just her underwear.

"Morning, JJ..." John B trailed as he slowly closed the front door and shrugged out of his backpack then placed it on the floor.

"Hey, John B. Morning." JJ replied, a slight panic in his voice as he shuffled slightly to stand in front of his girlfriend to cover her close to naked bottom half.

"There's a pair of shorts over the T.V. Is that what you're looking for?" John B smirked before he made his way towards the kitchen.

JJ turned around and looked down at her with an apologetic look. She gave his chest a playful shove before she made her way to the television and grabbed her shorts then pulled them up.

"Oh, by the way! Her parents are all over the block looking for her. So you might want to wrap this up." John B yelled from the kitchen.

JJ reached for her hand as she looked at him with panicked eyes then pulled her out of The Chateau and down the dirt path for one last kiss goodbye.

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you for your support xoxo

Requests for OBX are open!

[oneshotnewbie]

THE EMILY ONE SHOT WAS SO GOOD OH MY GOD CAN WE PLEASE HAVE A CONTINUATION

A/N: Guys, I am so sorry for my absence. I've hadn't time two write in two weeks because we are renovating our whole house and I've had to, besides my work and dog to care, do 80% of the shit my mother was up to. But now I am almost finished with it and can say that I came back to my usual routine where I can write more frequently. Thank you for staying with my blog ♥

---

You woke up to different voices, all of which moved around you and discussed quietly to themselves. Like a thick fog around your brain, you heard everything but all information evaporated like a strong wind into nothing.

The attempt to open your heavy eyelids and perceive the world around you failed. Your body also thwarted your plans; it was numb and completely unable to obey your commands. Your dry and chapped lips formed a sentence but your vocal cords failed and only let out a scratchy groan.

"I think she's finally waking up!" remarked someone next to you who held their hand on your head and slowly ran their thumb over your hair. You only realized in retrospect which perfume this person wore and that it was Spencer before you let your head fall closer to her side and she let out a small laugh. "Emily will go crazy when she hears you woke up and she wasn't here."

A light and weak smile came over your lips and you moved even closer to the warm body next to you. The brunette had meanwhile sat down with half of her body on your bed to show you that she was there for you and put an arm protectively over your hip; careful not to hit your wounds and cause you pain.

Your eyes slowly began to adjust to the bright light when it turned into a color that you could stand. You looked around and realized that you were in the hospital. The bare grey walls and the smell of disinfectant that you had previously blocked out, crept into your nose and made it wrinkle.

"Where's Emily? Is she okay?" you asked raspy and looked at Hanna who was sitting on the end of the bed and was stroking your lower legs. She looked down at the duvet before smiling up and nodding. "Calm down, she is okay. You saved her."

"We're so glad you're okay, babygirl." Spencer chimed in and gave you a kiss on your hair before she rested her cheek on the side of your head.

At the perfect moment the door was opened with full force and a totally dissolved and completely finished Emily came running through the door, followed by Aria who had some food and coffee in her hand and all three of you were startled, the brunette behind her was also shocked by your sisters action.

Emily's shiny eyes were red and dull, her perfect complexion was totally ruined by the salty tears that adorned her skin and she looked as if she hadn't slept for nights and, according to the force with which she had opened the door, more Coffee in her system as Spencer in a week.

"Sorry. I- had no idea - ah intention." she stumbled over her own words as she quickly ran to the closet in your room and threw her jacket in to the others. "Em.." tried Aria to get her out of her totally confused situation when she noticed that you were no longer lying unconscious in your bed.

Your sister had apparently not yet noticed that you were already awake and you were watching every movement she made with your tired eyes. "I saved your life and you treat me like air?" you coughed in a harsh and low voice. Hanna was immediately at your side and poured you a glass of water while Emily stopped moving, her back turned to you and still standing at the open closet. "Where is my 'hey sister' and a 'thank you for saving my ass'?"

The older Fields was afraid to turn around. She was afraid of it and that it was all just a hallucination she was in due to sleep deprivation. It was the internal strife between good and bad that kept her from turning to your bed.

The brunette gripped the closet door and wall unit with her hands so tightly that even the blood escaped from them and made her skin look white. She shook her head barely noticeably, but that didn't help either - Emily had to turn around to confirm for herself whether this was just a dream or reality. "Emmy?"

With a deep breath she turned and looked into your tired eyes. Your skin was pale - almost grey from the loss of blood and dark circles formed under your eyes. Your powerless body hung on machines and at this sight her hair on the back of her neck stood up.

In this moment, her mind brought her back to the moment you stopped breathing in front of her eyes. Tears started to form and stung in her eyes, mixing with the view in front of her as she slowly began to walk towards you.

"Y/N." she sobbed while she pressed a strand of hair behind her ear and stopped in front of your bed. Struggling, she raised her shaky hand and gently placed it on top of yours, tapping it fearfully a few times before your hand drew hers into yours.

Your warmth, which trembled into her body through this touch alone, brought relief with it. Like a house of cards, Emily collapsed and fell around your neck. Her tears ran quickly from her eyes and all the pent-up feelings she had been carrying over the last few days left her body. "I am so sorry."

"Don't be, its okay. I am fine."

While you gently stroked her back and she tried to press closer to you without hurting you, Aria, Spencer and Hanna started to pack their stuff and said goodbye to you in silence. They wanted to give you the time and privacy to talk.

"You could have died and I would have never forgiven myself." sniffed the older of you as she straightened up again, wiping away her tears as her eyes met your gaze. You disappeared in your thoughts for a short moment, all the memories from that evening coming back.

The pain that had eaten you up from the inside out and the coldness that took over your body. The cold path beneath you and the slow and unbearable moment where you couldn't fight anymore and lost conciousness. You notices how something in you tried to defend itself against these thoughts as you started to shake and your voice was muffed from all the tears you tried to swallow. "But I didn't, I am still alive."

Trembling, you tried to get into a comfortable position while trying to avoid your sister's gaze. Clearing your throat and with the play of your fingernails, Emily knew that you were trying to hide how you were really doing and how you were coping with the situation and so she stopped talking about her feelings and hugged you wordlessly. Your protective wall broke in her arms shortly after and your strength faded far away.

"We gonna get through this together."

[scummy-writes]

Better in The Morning

Rating: Explicit (Minors dni)

Words: 5703

Pairing: Theo/Arthur

Tags: Jealousy, Drinking, Blood Drinking, Anal Sex, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Light Angst, Choking, Idiots to Lovers, Biting, Theocona

Full fic under the cut!

Preview:

The feel of Theo’s tongue against his drew a shudder out. Arthur twisted his fingers into Theo’s shirt, head beginning to spin as Theo’s kisses grew rough, more demanding, making Arthur’s hands shake as he blindly searched for the buttons of Theo’s shirt and clumsily worked them. It was difficult to concentrate or even attempt taking back control when Theo kept stealing his breath, and Arthur was pleased; safe from the burden of thinking past impulses.

Three buttons undone, and Arthur’s palms spread out against Theo’s chest as they finally broke apart, gasping for breath. He watched as Theo surveyed him, taking in the sight of his hair disheveled, his slick and swollen lips. Arthur knew the heat spread across his cheeks was obvious, and when a ghost of a prideful smirk took over Theo’s features, Arthur wrapped his arms around his neck with a strained chuckle.

------

Sex was just a formula in the end: Flirting, enticing, tempting touches. Hushed promises breathed against heated skin, the shuffling of clothes along with the creak of a mattress. Slow, purposeful touches that crept faster, until thinking wasn’t needed as instinct took over.

Or, most of the time it’s how it went.

Arthur hazily looked at the woman laid bare in front of him, sweat shining on her breasts while her hands dug into the sheets. Her eyes were squeezed shut, mouth hung open as her gasps and groans began to rise higher in pitch. With such a pretty little bird beneath him and pleasure making his mind spin, how was it that his thoughts kept flitting elsewhere? Making his breath catch for other reasons; movements falter.

What a disservice to the one calling his name…

Arthur leaned over her, making her shiver with the playful nips he drew along her jaw, trailing further and further below until he could nose her pulse, sighing at the fragrance of perfume mixed with such a lovely drink. He timed his bite with a harsh thrust of his hips, feeling her nails dig into his back as she clenched around him.

It wasn’t as if it was a bore, but the only thirst quenched tonight was that of his throat. He found himself getting dressed rather quickly after discarding the condom, and the woman hazily reached out to him, barely having caught her breath and struggling to keep lucid with the pleasure still trembling through her.

“W-where are you…?”

“Ah, sorry luv,” He feigned a pout, giving a quick kiss to her cheek, “got a rather busy morning tomorrow, can’t quite risk being late.”

Granted, he wasn’t a total ass. Arthur made sure to clean up the mess they made without disturbing her too much as she faded out, but he was still out on the streets faster than usual. Huffing to himself, he stretched as he walked.

When was the last time sex felt so pitiful for him?

Deep down Arthur knew the reasons why, but he was stubborn, if anything. Refusing to give his feelings a name as they steadily bubbled within him, begrudgingly recalling a scene from earlier this afternoon. Where he had finally caught a glimpse of Theo after days on end of elusive misses; the man having been too busy to even linger for breakfast- or rather, linger long enough for Arthur to wake up and join.

He had been so excited too, walking up to try and ask the art dealer for some of his time. Only to stop when a woman seemed to join Theo, watching as her bright laughter brought on a smile he had never seen from Theo before.

It was such a small scene, and truly, shouldn’t he feel happy for his stoic friend? Instead, his throat had felt tight, a wash of bitterness overtaking him as he turned back around, finding himself heading towards visiting his favorite pub.

Now, Arthur kicked a pebble ahead of him as he walked home, unable to properly distract himself as he played the scene out over and over in his mind.

---

Arthur sighed, dropping his pen aside as he took his glasses off. Crumpled papers were littered on his desk, and his current sheet in front of him was just filled with scratched out words and ink blots. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to produce, after being awake for well over a full twenty-four hours now. It wasn’t as if his eighth cup of coffee would magically yield better results than the last.

“Blast…”

It was too late to go out of the mansion at this point, far too late to see if he could even swoon some minx into a distraction- and the appeal of that dwindled down as he remembered the pisspoor attempt from last time…

Standing up, he stretched his back before slumping.

Running from troubles were always temporary, in the end. After a while, they caught up, and Arthur knew when he had to settle in and let them run their course. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t be sour over it, hating the way his anxieties and fears would churn in his stomach, but at least his reluctant acceptance still gave him a vague feeling of agency over his own mind turning against him.

~

The parlor felt like a breath of fresh air in comparison to his stuffy room, and Arthur placed the decanter of whiskey he snatched on the side table, knowing he could be left alone to ruminate over his childish feelings in peace, nursing a glass and hoping to fall asleep. The warm glow the light gave off certainly helped him feel a bit drowsy, even if his wandering thoughts were working against him in that regard.

Arthur settled himself into the chair, pouring himself a drink as he surveyed the cover of a book. Just a harmless collection of poetry, but recalling the way Theo seemed so absorbed reading it in the salon made his stomach stir. Against his better judgement, he opened the book and flipped through the pages, scanning each stanza and wondering.

Was Theo reading this and thinking of that woman? Each flowery bit of prose bringing that same smile she had managed to drudge out as Theo thought about her?

Arthur knew he had no right to be so torn up about this, not when he had a body count that was too high to remember, but…

It still stung regardless. Pooling in the pit of his stomach, making his breaths harder to take in the longer this feeling ruminated inside. He knew that, even if he weren't so cowardly, that he hadn't a hope of pulling those smiles out of Theo. That his refusal to admit his feelings, even to himself, was what had landed him in this mess.

Of course, while he sat there bitterly overlooking poem after poem, the man he had been lamenting about comes into the parlor. At the height of Arthur’s self degradation, nonetheless.

A gruff sigh spilled out of Theo once Arthur wearily met his gaze. He didn’t say anything at first, eyes glancing at the bottle resting beside Arthur, then towards the book he held. If Theo had any strong feelings towards the poetry, he didn’t show it as he walked over, taking the seat beside him.

“Didn’t think you read the stuff.”

Didn’t think you did either. But Arthur shrugged, setting the book aside, “someone left it in here.”

It was quiet. Theo didn’t seem to have any reason to come into the parlor, but he sat patiently beside Arthur regardless, toying with the decanter’s top as time ticked by.

“How long have you been here?”

“Mm. Dunno. Long enough to wonder how long until le Comte updates his library,” he gestured his glass towards the book resting between them, “that book is older than the both of us.”

Arthur could feel Theo’s gaze on him. It wasn’t like the man was attempting to hide it, but he kept silent as Arthur took a slow sip of his whiskey with a sigh.

“Couldn’t find a ‘bird’ to put up with you tonight?”

And deal with another woman with a mothering complex trying to ‘nurse him’ back to whatever his normal was? No. He just shrugged at Theo’s question instead, raking a hand through his hair as he slouched in his seat, shaking his head, “wasn’t in the mood.”

“Mm. Finally gaining a conscience over leaving those women alone in the morning?”

The gentle prod was obvious, but Arthur ignored it as he poured himself another glass. He wasn’t sure what brought forth concern on Theo’s end. Did he look as haggard as he felt? Sleep had never came last night, and he knew that much was obvious, but what else was causing Theo’s eyes to narrow while Arthur stared into the amber liquid?

Downing it in one go, Arthur made the motion towards the decanter but felt Theo’s hand on his.

The warmth of Theo’s hand stole his thoughts away. He was so used to wearing gloves that he found himself unable to recall a moment where they had skin to skin contact before now. Skinship that wasn’t drunken brushes between each other. Arthur swallowed thickly, mind overcome with imaginings of Theo holding that woman’s hand and smiling- smiles Arthur could never evoke from him, feeling his chest clench again.

Drinking suddenly felt like a need, rather than a want.

“Theo?”

Theo blinked, swallowing when his eyes wavered with something Arthur couldn't catch, “we both know you’re a lightweight, slow down on the drinking.”

Arthur’s brows furrowed, shaking Theo’s hand off, “we’re at home, anyway, ‘s not like I’m going to cause trouble.”

“Arthur.”

“Bloody hell, what is it?” Theo recoiled at his tone. He took his time with a response, ruminating on the words for a reason Arthur couldn’t fathom, but the words just made his sudden temper worse.

“Drinking isn’t going to help whatever mood you're in.”

Silence stretched out between them as Arthur held his breath, his glass still resting on the table as they looked at each other. Theo’s concern was evident, and deep down Arthur knew that it was genuine; possibly even what had prompted Theo to come into the room to begin with, but jealousy kept skewing his perception. Arthur clicked his tongue as he finally tore his gaze away.

“It’ll help me sleep tonight,” another pause, then Arthur rubbed his eyes with a huff, annoyed at himself, “I haven’t slept for ages-”

“Drinking will knock you flat on your ass, but you know as well as I do that it’ll make you go through hell when you finally do wake up.”

“Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment-” It certainly felt like it when he couldn’t stop himself from deliberately pushing people away from him, but Theo ignored his depressive tone, yanking the decanter out of his grasp.

“Then, view this as a punishment.”

"For God's sake- you're going to do this all night aren't you?"

It wasn't so much a question, not with how Arthur rolled his eyes, finishing off his glass before Theo could think about grabbing it. "You do know there's more booze in the mansion, don't you?"

Theo shrugged his shoulders, "I know that if you're too lazy to go distract yourself with one of your 'skirts', you're too lazy to scour for more."

Arthur didn't respond, eyes closed as he leaned upon his elbow, propping his head up with a sigh.

"... What do you propose, then?"

~

At Arthur’s first stumble out of the parlor, Theo tsked and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, huffing a reprimand in the process. It was an accident, Arthur really hadn’t drank that much yet, but… He let himself be led towards his room, feeling careless ideas come to mind the longer he let Theo keep his grip.

Each step closer, Arthur considered his options, feeling his emotions battling out his rationale. What proof did he have of Theo really getting with that woman? A quick glance and Theo had no lipstick markings on his cheeks or neck, no scent of perfume… Most people were quick to spend as much time with a new partner in the beginning stages. Given that Theo rarely had any breaks from work and didn’t appear to spend his rare day off with the woman Arthur had saw, it opened two possibilities.

Either they had yet to breach the hurdle of admitting their feelings towards each other, or they had been together for longer than Arthur realized.

The latter stung at the back of his throat as he swallowed the thought down, focusing on the first. Because if they had yet to get together… Well, Arthur could do what he does best.

He smiled bitterly to himself, playing up the role of a drunk as they neared Theo’s room.

~

Excuses. That’s what Arthur needed; something to make his behavior forgettable in the morning. Something to make his shame easier to deal with the next day. He took advantage of Theo’s dazed state after they stumbled into his room, cupping his cheeks mid-scold and stealing a lingering kiss. At first, Theo seemed frozen, unsure of how to react, and Arthur’s fear exacerbated. He nipped at Theo’s bottom lip, feeling his shoulders drop with relief when the man finally kissed him back.

Theo was hesitant, his grip unfocused as Arthur managed to take the lead; distracting him as he slowly backed Theo into his desk chair, straddling him easily. When they broke apart, panting as Theo’s confused look swept over him, the taste of him still lingered on Arthur’s lips as he nervously licked them, “don’t you want a distraction too?”

Theo’s gaze narrowed for a moment. The threat of getting an answer he feared pushed Arthur to act impulsively, crashing their lips together in one fluid movement.

Regardless of how clumsy it was, Arthur was thankful when he felt Theo’s grip focus on his ass, pushing their bodies flush together and dragging out as gasp when his fingers threaded themselves in Arthur’s hair; holding him in place as their rushed kisses deepened. Every heavy breath between them reeked of ethanol, and as Arthur felt Theo slowly get harder, he pushed the thoughts of their crumbling friendship aside.

The feel of Theo’s tongue against his drew a shudder out. Arthur twisted his fingers into Theo’s shirt, head beginning to spin as Theo’s kisses grew rough, more demanding, making Arthur’s hands shake as he blindly searched for the buttons of Theo’s shirt and clumsily worked them. It was difficult to concentrate or even attempt taking back control when Theo kept stealing his breath, and Arthur was pleased; safe from the burden of thinking past impulses.

Three buttons undone, and Arthur’s palms spread out against Theo’s chest as they finally broke apart, gasping for breath. He watched as Theo surveyed him, taking in the sight of his hair disheveled, his slick and swollen lips. Arthur knew the heat spread across his cheeks was obvious, and when a ghost of a prideful smirk took over Theo’s features, Arthur wrapped his arms around his neck with a strained chuckle.

“You’re not going to stop there, are you?”

With a slow blink, Theo finally came back to the present and slid his palms over Arthur’s ass again. A surge of heat rushed through Arthur, making him bite his lip in pleasure.

They weren’t sober by any means, but neither of them were drunk. Yet when Theo suddenly began pressing his lips against Arthur’s neck, he let out a breathless, excited laugh with his groan, Arthur’s head spinning as if he had drank his limit three times over.

A brush of Theo’s fangs against his skin made Arthur thread his fingers through Theo’s locks, shivering with the teasing waves of pleasure it brought. Slowly, the chair they sat on began to creak as Arthur rolled his hips, grinding their clothed erections together with an open moan. It only took a few more desperate pushes to coax Theo into changing positions.

Arthur nearly yelped as Theo abruptly stood up, carrying him over towards his bed with much more ease than expected- only to drop Arthur onto the mattress.

“Bloody hell, Theo, I’m not a toy-” but his flash of annoyance disappeared as Theo straddled him, working his shirt off. Unable to look away, Arthur’s eyes raked over Theo’s chest, a hum of appreciation unabashedly slipping out, “... maybe we should have done this sooner.”

Theo scoffed, beginning to roughly unbutton Arthur’s shirt, looking pleased when Arthur arched into his touch. Excited, Arthur smirked as he slid his hands between them, deftly unbuckling Theo’s belt.

It was rushed, and Arthur liked it that way. Dragging out teasing touches just opened up the chance for his unwanted thoughts to consume him and take him out of the mood. Arthur wanted to speed this up, drive Theo mad enough to shove his face into the mattress and give him the mindless pleasure he craved. So he tugged Theo’s zipper down and cupped his length, a breathless laugh escaping him when Theo briefly thrusted against his palm with a low grunt.

Arthur took Theo’s open pleasure in stride, grinning as he slipped his hand into Theo’s boxers, grasping his cock and giving a few loose strokes. Already, precum was leaking from Theo’s slit, and Arthur couldn’t help the soft groan he let out when he felt it wet his palm, “all because of me, hm?”

“Something like that.”

The unintentional pout he gave made Theo bark out a laugh, which caused his lips to twist into a frown. ‘Something like that’. He’ll make it because of him, regardless of Theo’s pride.

Running his thumb over Theo’s slit, he dragged the precum gathered there in a slow, teasing circle along his glans, loving how Theo’s eyes fluttered shut with a moan, “mm, are you sure?”

Theo’s eyes snapped open in annoyance, and suddenly Arthur’s belt was roughly being undone and tossed aside so Theo could yank his pants down enough to take his cock into his hand, mimicking Arthur’s earlier motions. Giddily, Arthur thrust into Theo’s grip, letting out a content, low sigh, “finally.”

He had to wonder what he looked like to Theo, a man he was unsure of would even find pleasure in any of this before now. A flushed, sultry mess like the minxes Arthur happily devoured, tempting Theo to explore new sinful approaches to their relationship?

Arthur almost scoffed at himself, but he still played his part; tugging Theo down by his arm, demanding another flurry of biting kisses as their cocks brushed against each other. He took delight in the strained moan Theo choked on when Arthur reached between them, grasping their throbbing cocks in his hand. There wasn’t any need for words. Theo quickly began to slip his tongue back into Arthur’s mouth, thrusting in time with Arthur’s strokes, swallowing their muffled moans.

But then Theo’s fingers pried Arthur’s grip open, threading their hands together and instead forced Arthur to stroke them like that- as if they were holding hands. It shouldn’t have tripped Arthur up, not when the move made it easier for them to chase after their release, but he found his thoughts slipping back towards a different type of neediness.

It took a lot to break apart from Theo, who quickly busied himself nipping at Arthur’s neck while he caught his breath long enough to speak, “H-hey, surely you don’t want it to- ahn, end like this?”

“Mm, think you can handle otherwise?”

Arthur just chuckled, running a hand through his sweaty bangs, “don't make me beg, Theo, I'm not sure either of us could take it.”

The cocky tone earned him a harsh nip to his pulse, making Arthur let out a choked noise when Theo paired it with a squeeze to the tip of their cocks. Theo finally let go after a moment and carefully got off of him, reaching into his nightstand to pull out a jar of lube.

"I can't believe you jerk off more than sleep around, ' Arthur mused and removed his undergarments as Theo rolled his eyes, '...what does the stubborn Theodorus Van Gogh get off to, hm?"

His question seemingly went ignored as Theo came back to him, fingers slick with lube. Gently he rested his knees on the bed, nudging Arthur to spread his legs before he spread lube around his hole.

Arthur hated this. He hated the careful way Theo pushed a finger inside of him, watching as Arthur held his breath. It’s not as if it hurt- god only knows how often Arthur’s been more adventurous- but the process takes time. And asking patience from a man who was struggling as much as he was torture.

“Better tell me if it hurts, klootzak.”

He nodded, knowing Theo would stop otherwise. After a few careful pumps, Theo pressed another finger inside, drawing a content sigh of his name from Arthur. By the time the third one was in, Arthur slowly began to stroke himself, shooting a smile Theo’s way when he watched intently, “enjoying the show?”

“Wondering how you manage to keep from being a quick shot.”

"Believe it or not, I do have some self control."

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he scoffed.

The way Theo smirked as the tip of his cock started to push into him made Arthur’s arousal flare, and… Well, it didn't feel bad, but Arthur winced as Theo inched deeper, his length thicker than Arthur had initially believed.

With that slip in confidence, Theo stopped abruptly, making Arthur grumble impatiently.

"Come now, you're not going to tease me this badly, are you?"

"You're already wincing-"

"Well, I didn't realize your thick-headedness extended that far down, Theo."

Regardless, Theo carefully pulled out of Arthur, evidently ready to settle on a different method of getting off.

“If you’re that worried then,” Arthur sat up, stealing another kiss before muttering against Theo’s mouth, “lay down.”

The look Theo gave was skeptical, but he backed off. Laying down he eyed Arthur, his caution ebbing away as Arthur threw a leg over his waist, straddling him with a grin. He kept one hand on Theo's chest as he reached behind him, giving Theo’s thick length a few good strokes before steering the tip of his cock to his entrance. The anticipation that had built up in Arthur’s abdomen dissolved into a fiery heat once he gingerly lowered himself onto Theo’s cock, his quiet gasps making Theo grab onto his thighs in a flash of worry.

“Hey, don’t push yourse-,” but Arthur’s hips sank down in one fluid movement before Theo could finish, taking Theo’s cock in as deep as he could manage.

“F-fuck, Theo, I-” a shudder overcame Arthur as his own cock throbbed with need.

“Yeah? Thought you said you could take it?”

He shot Theo a bleary-eyed glare, one that barely lingered, his expression morphing into one of pleasure as he tested a roll of his hips, loving the way Theo’s length pushed back into him impatiently.

Arthur spread his hands out on Theo's chest, doing his best to ignore how fast Theo's heart was beating as he used the leverage to start an unsteady pace.

It was difficult to quip about Theo's flushed features, not when his head was already spinning from finally getting Theo tangled up with him like this. Each bounce on Theo's cock slowly made Arthur's composure slip, his speed faltering when he managed to plunge Theo's cock in deeper on some thrusts more than others.

Admittedly, it drove Arthur nearly mad; getting Theo just where he wanted him, only for Arthur to clumsily take his cock like this. Whereas Theo… Arthur hesitated, shivering from the excitement buzzing throughout him, Theo still wore a confident smirk with his skin just as flushed as Arthur’s.

"I thought you've done this before?"

"I have- y-you're just so bloody thick-" Theo's rough hands grabbed ahold of his hips, interrupting Arthur as Theo pulled him down just as he thrusted upwards, drawing out a strangled cry from the writer, "Theo!"

“Does it hurt?”

“No-”

“Then,” Theo tightened his grip, keeping up the pace and covering the speed Arthur was lacking, “stop complaining.”

And maybe Arthur really had too much to drink; he couldn’t focus on anything but chasing the pleasure of this secretly harbored fantasy coming to life. He was unable to care about the noises spilling out as Theo roughly guided Arthur’s hips to meet each thrust he gave.

The throbbing arousal coursing through him reached a dangerous peak not too long after, and Arthur’s nails dug into Theo’s chest as he attempted to regain some clarity and control himself better. But Theo slowed and stopped moving, causing Arthur to pant out a curse.

"Y-You're such a devil-!"

"Mm, doesn't seem to stop you from mewling."

Arthur’s head spun as Theo pulled out, drawing an embarrassing whine out until he was pushed onto his back. Theo's palms slid along the underside of Arthur's thighs, ass, until he grabbed his sides, pushing in deep with a lazy roll of his hips.

"Uhn- ah! Theo-" Arthur’s voice was already strained, but another groan bubbled up when Theo picked up the pace. It was obvious Theo was getting close, his jaw clenched tight as his thrusts delved deeper, harsh enough to make the bed creak in tandem.

Fumbling, Arthur tugged on Theo’s locks to crash their lips together again. Nails dug into his hips for a moment, and then Theo broke them apart, eyes narrowed at Arthur’s chuckle.

Finding a hand at his throat, Arthur lightly gasped as Theo’s barely-there grip focused on the sides of his throat. It was enough to give Arthur a chance to rasp out any type of rejection to the idea, but instead the writer dug his heels into Theo’s ass, urging him to keep going.

At first, Theo kept his hold as it was, but as he began to get closer to his release, he tightened it just enough for Arthur’s knees to press against his waist, Arthur’s eyes going hazy at the new pleasure.

And then he let go, permitting Arthur to take in a deep breath, “fuck…”

“Tell me if I need to stop,” Theo warned, but Arthur just chuckled.

“Don’t stop until you cum. You’re, ahn, just as close as I am, h-huh?” Arthur gave him a smug look despite the flush on his cheeks, despite the way his bangs were ruffled and damp with sweat; Theo gripped him tight as he leaned over, nipping and sucking a mark onto his neck, right where his collar couldn’t reach. Arthur’s cock throbbed at the sensation, feeling as though he was being claimed.

“Then- Tell me where you want it.”

"I-inside! Oh hell, Theo, I want to feel it-"

Arthur's back arched as Theo's grip tightened again, feeling Arthur clench around his cock.

"Feel what?"

Release, Arthur sucking in air as he spoke all at once.

"Want to feel your cock throb- a-as you cum, mmph. Make me feel- ghk-!"

Another tightened grip, and Arthur's eyes welled as Theo slammed into him, heavily panting as Arthur shook with each thrust. The lack of air nearly became unbearable, but just before it was too much, Theo let go. Instead he pushed on Arthur’s thighs, nearly folding him in half as he thrusted once, twice, and then spilled inside with a rasp.

The faint smell of ethanol lingered between them, mixed into the way Arthur desperately tugged Theo close, smashing their lips together in clumsy kisses. He threaded his fingers through Theo's hair, keeping him in place for just a moment, to meet his gaze when they broke apart.

"Theo."

His name is muttered as a lovelorn sigh, Arthur's eyes searching his for something, but Theo dipped his head against Arthur's neck, avoiding the unspoken confession as his fangs broke skin.

“Ah-Ah! Oh gods-” Arthur’s nails dig deep into Theo’s back and scalp, his noises turning into choked rasps as Theo reached between them, jerking Arthur off to the timing of his slowing thrusts.

Arthur lasted just long enough for Theo to pull his fangs out, to let out a string of curses as he tensed and spilled over Theo’s hand, and then Theo pulled out with shuddering breaths, forehead planted against Arthur’s shoulder.

~

It took what felt like ages for the two of them to catch their breath. As soon as the afterglow fades and a slow ache replaces it, Arthur found his thoughts immediately settling onto his current issue: Theo. Who was refusing to look at him, head still pressed against his shoulder.

Embarrassment started to creep in the longer they refused to speak.

What did you do, Arthur?

"Well, that was a nice bit of fun," he swallowed thickly, hoping Theo can't feel the hammering in his chest, "perhaps we should do this again sometime…"

Theo groaned, frustration clear, "is sex the only thing that's ever on your mind?"

"You weren't complaining before-"

But Theo finally got up, sitting back on his knees, "can you get up?"

"What, kicking me out so soon? No wonder you can only get with your hand."

"Bath, Arthur. Trying to see if you can make it to the le therme."

Oh…

~

Shame struck Arthur once they both sink into the water, the heat drawing attention to all the parts of him that ache. He was lucky his job wasn't anything like Theo's, and that he could get away with sitting on his ass all day.

Getting here wasn't as easy as he thought. All his bravado fizzled away when it became apparent just how hard they had gone at it, and Arthur's stumble when getting up prompted Theo to…

Well, he's just thankful no one saw how pathetic he looked getting here.

Arthur sank a little deeper into the water as the silence between them stretched out, glad the heat was helping his lower back. But the longer they were quiet, the more Arthur’s thoughts rushed; had anyone else heard them? What was Theo thinking right now?

Had Arthur just ruined whatever was built up between them, or were those feelings completely one-sided?

An annoyed tsk caused him to glance at Theo, who was rubbing his neck.

“Did you have to leave a mark so high up? How am I going to explain this…”

Ah… now that he was looking at Theo in the light, he noticed his desperation all over him. Lovebites along his neck and collar, Theo’s hair still mussed and scratches along his shoulder… At the thought of others catching a glimpse, Arthur felt his jealousy simmer.

“I think it looks good,” looked like he’s taken, at least.

"I feel sorry for all those women you sleep with if they wake up like this. Tch, I look like a fool."

Arthur wasn't sure what to feel. Proud? Sated? There was a sliver of joy humming inside of him; he finally got a taste of what he'd been craving for so long. But guilt and fear were quickly taking ahold of him, unable to keep himself from wondering just how bad he screwed things up.

"What does this mean now?" The question slipped out as soon as he thought it, and Arthur felt his ears burn as Theo shrugged.

"You said you wanted a distraction, and you got it."

Ouch. But he did deserve that, he supposed.

"So… We just go along like this never happened?" Theo gave him a noncommittal grunt, and Arthur kept on, "Theo, just humor me, will you?"

There was a sigh, Theo rubbing the back of his neck, "I don't know what answer you want, Arthur. For fucks sake, neither of us were thinking."

"Doesn't this have higher stakes for you? What about that pretty bird you keep taking strolls along the Seine with?"

Theo froze, giving Arthur an incredulous look, "you mean Mr. Garnier’s wife?"

Arthur went quiet, feeling heat in his cheeks as he processed Theo's words, and the accompanying embarrassment. Weakly, he stammered, "i-is that the only woman you've… you've been seeing?"

And Theo, the bastard, burst in laughter as a response. Not quietly either; loud enough to make Arthur's ears ring as the foolishness of this situation sunk in.

"Theo, for gods sake-"

"Is that what this was all about? Is that why you were in such a mood earlier?"

Arthur covered his face, his pride washing away, "my god man, do shut up."

His laughter continued until it faded off into a chuckle. Seeing Arthur still unable to look his way, Theo finally relaxed, wrapping an arm around Arthur’s shoulders and tugging him close.

“Come ‘ere.” Arthur still doesn’t speak, but Theo slowly continues, choosing his words carefully, “is this really why you’ve been moody lately?”

“At this point, does it really matter if I give an answer?”

Reviewing tonight’s events should have been enough of an answer, but with the reluctant confirmation, Theo just gives Arthur a half-hearted squeeze. It made Arthur finally relax his shoulders, no longer hiding his face.

“I’m… Not good with these things, Arthur,” No, he wasn’t. It was another reason Arthur had been so surprised to see him happily with another woman. But now, knowing all of that jealousy was pointless, to an extent, well… Arthur kept quiet as Theo continued, “even before arriving here, when I didn’t have so much weighing me down, I wasn’t good at this. But…”

Theo trailed off before taking another deep breath, “if this is genuine... then I’m willing to give it a try. With you.”

Surprised, Arthur looked over to meet Theo’s gaze- only to see the man was turned away, the tips of his ears reddened.

“‘I’m not good at these things’, he says…”

Theo turned to shoot him a glare, only frowning when he realized it let Arthur see just how badly he was blushing.

“I’m trying.”

Chuckling, Arthur felt his anxieties start to ebb away, “you really want to do this? With a mess like me? If this thing goes south, well…”

“I’d be handling this ‘mess’ in one way or another, regardless.”

“Very romantic, Theo. Thanks.”

The quip eases them both with the laugh it brings, and this time the quiet that stretched out was comfortable.

“We’ll need to talk about this more, in the morning, but for now,” Theo slipped his arm around Arthur’s waist, relaxing, “don’t work yourself up. We’re fine.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“You’re not the only one good at reading others, you know.”

Arthur merely hummed in response, letting that comfortable silence come back.

It felt odd, to say the least, to even consider getting into a serious relationship. Years of waving off most chances at happiness caused an almost knee-jerk reaction to do the same here; to chase Theo off with showcasing the worst of him. But Theo had already seen all of that.

There was still the chance of this not working out, or working out in the way they planned, but Arthur finally let himself rest against Theo, choosing to ignore those obnoxious worries at least for tonight.

------

I've discovered a friend can innocently send me a song saying it makes them think of a shared favored ship, only for me to dumbly open a word doc to scramble in a fic inspired by it.

I've wanted to write a longer Theocona fic for a while now, I didn't think it'd be like this, especially given how it's. Rusty. But if you read through it all: Thank you!

While I love these fools, I'm not too sure when the next time I'll write another fic for them. Theo's really hard to write, and I have so many older wips I need to finish... Maybe sooner than later I'll have another, but an established relationship themed one...

Thank you again for reading!

Masterlist || Ikevamp Server

Tag list (Please DM/Send an ask if you'd like to be added/removed):

@aeoncryptic @anianakin @judgemental-seal​ @shookspearewrites @stehkotori @niintendoqs @otomefoxystar @blu-tigerr @jazzellen @cinnatwisted @buswilligan @tacogawa @kim-stitches @passionatebooklover @rinringo23 @aurora-morning @kimmy-banana

[permanentcrossfics]

Twelve Hours In Miami // h.s.

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.”

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….”

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?”

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.”

He was not serious. He couldn’t be.

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.”

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

This took a minute (yes, I hate italicizing from Google and making a Wattpad cover that much. Yes, I will avoid it like the plague. Yes, there was a lot else going on, as well). Thank you to all of you who were patient! I hope you enjoy xx

The knock on your door was too loud, insistent, and rhythmic for it to be an accident, but it was too early for it to be anybody you’d want in your room. 

Whatever it was in the Miami air, it’d absolutely drained you of all energy. Every night since you’d landed, you’d passed out at 11:00pm, sharp, and slept until around 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning, and the only reason you got out of bed then was the only reason you were even in the city to begin with. 

“Work trip? To Miami?” 

Harry had brightened considerably when you mentioned when and where you’d be going for a quick turnaround, and you hadn’t understood why until he told you what wasn’t quite public yet. He’d be working, too, and his calendar was full (he’d absolutely deserved the ribbing you gave him when he told you that), but, “‘S’nice sometimes, y’know? To have a friend around?” 

Friend. You hadn’t seen your friend in the three days it’d been since you landed. Even despite being in the same hotel. Even despite having pockets of time in both your schedules that worked, and while part of it might be your fault and your inability to stay awake, part of it was just… timing. 

So much of what was between you could be boiled down to timing and lack thereof. Why would a weekend be any different? Why, on this weekend, would you be able to make it work when he had meetings and events jammed in and you had obligations of your own? Why would now work any better than the other opportunities that had fizzled despite every hope, effort, and intention? 

The knocking continued and you groaned, throwing the blankets you’d been huddled under down the bed as you twisted to look at the hotel alarm clock. 

Six in the morning. Six! And they were still going! They’d better be telling you something extremely good or extremely awful to be trying to break down your door this early, but when you glanced through the peephole, your annoyance was tempered with shock and a shot of elation. He was looking up and down the hall, suitcase on the ground next to him and already dressed for the day, and it was then you became aware of how little you were dressed. 

“Hang--” You cleared your throat and tapped the door. “Hang on, I’ll be right….” You scrambled back to the armchair you’d thrown your robe on last night to have something on over the camisole and underwear you’d crawled into bed with before twisting the locks and opening the door. “Is everything-- what are you doing here?” 

His shoulders rose and fell with his deep breath and you swore you thought his eyes took a quick trip up and down your body. “Morning,” he said, his own voice miles smoother than yours. How long had he been awake? “D’you mind if I…?”

You shook your head and stepped back and he and his baggage disappeared into your room as you closed up. When you rejoined him, he’d deposited his suitcase next to the luggage rack that held yours, and he’d taken off the tinted sunglasses that he had no business wearing so early in the morning, anyway. “Did they kick you out?” you asked, still struggling to grasp for real words that meant anything. 

He smiled halfway and shook his head. “No, nothing like that.” Now that he was in your room, you could pay attention to him. His hair looked like it still had a little bit of leftover product in it, but not in a dirty, greasy way. His loose-fitting trousers were fastened snugly right above his hips, but it was the t-shirt that made your mouth go dry and your mind wander. Tight and tucked into his trousers, gloves wished they could fit hands like this fit his torso. It was close, and you could see practically every line and indentation of his stomach and chest. 

“Hmm?”

He laughed once. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.” You took a deep breath. “Why are you here?” you asked.

“Figured I’d come hang out.”

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.” 

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….” 

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?” 

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.” 

He was not serious. He couldn’t be. 

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.” 

His eyes were wide and hopeful but guarded, you realized, anticipating the possibility that you might say no. 

“I’ve been trying for days.” The quiet confession almost drowned in the deafening silence of the room, and in that moment, you remembered every missed call, every text, every visit to your door that he’d stolen just to see you before he had to run off to an event and you had to crawl into bed. You remembered every fleeting embrace, every missed kiss to the corner of your mouth, every look that had lasted a second too long to be normal and lacked the ability to make him stay. “But we just never… s’never a good time, so I’m making the time for you now. If that’s something you want.” 

“Do I want time with you?” You clutched the neckline of your robe like an old woman clutched pearls, and your throat felt tight, full of words you’d swallowed again, and again, and again. Did you want time with him? Of course you wanted time with him. Five minutes, five hours, five days, five years, you wanted anything he could give, but you’d given up on that a little bit. Not on him, but on you. 

“Can y’make time?” His throat bobbed and the smile he gave you was crushingly vulnerable even with its self-assured charm. “For me?” 

Yes or no. In or out. Carpe diem. 

You nodded and it was like a pin had pricked the bubble around both of you, tension easing out in a whistle. Harry shuffled closer and you stood, glued to the carpet in your bare feet, as he lifted his hands. He hesitated for a moment and you saw a glimpse of his tongue held between his lips in thought before he cupped your cheeks. Together, you exhaled, and your eyes closed, heart racing uncontrollably. His hands were warm, sturdy, and soft in their own way, and your lips parted when he drew his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks. 

Days after weeks after months after who knew how long, and now he was standing in front of you in a hotel room of all places with less than twelve hours before he had to leave for the airport, but if it was all the time in the world you had…. 

He kissed you, then, and what little time you had left stood still. A distinct sensation of relief flooded through you, like a geyser that had been waiting to gush, and you sighed through your nose, leaning into his mouth. He’d shaved, but you could still feel the sandpaper of his chin against yours, and it was a sharp contrast to the soft sweep of his tongue into your mouth. For all of five seconds, you couldn’t think, or move, but when he groaned -- deep, throaty, and in a way only he could -- it snapped something in you. 

His chest and stomach were firm under your roaming hands, although you liked the softness around his hips best because of the way he sucked in a quick breath. You curled your fingers into the cotton and swayed when he stepped forward and tipped your head back to deepen the kiss further, showing both his hand and his greed, and it was your turn to whimper when he slipped one of his hands down your neck and over your shoulder underneath the robe you’d thrown on. Not anything like the friendly pats and lingering squeezes he’d given you in the past and that you’d returned in kind. There was intent for skin, skin, and more skin in this, and you’d no sooner put your hand on the knot around your waist than he’d joined your fingers with his to pull what you hadn’t realized you’d tied so well. 

You shivered when it dropped to the floor, but stretched yourself out against his body when he wrapped his arms ever so carefully around your back. It was like despite having his tongue down your throat (don’t think about it, or you’ll laugh and ruin the moment, you reminded yourself), he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you or where he could put his hands. It was sweet -- funny, but sweet, and respectful in a way you hadn’t anticipated but could have, maybe, expected? He was only a man, and common decency was a low bar, but if the situation were reversed, you didn’t know if you’d think or be able to do the same. His arms were crossed over your back at his forearms, but you could sense his palms hovering out to the side even as kisses grew increasingly frantic with nicking teeth and off center meetings of your mouths. Focusing very hard on not losing those, you clumsily squeezed his bicep until he relinquished his hold a bit, but before he could finish his mumbled question, you grabbed his wrist and, without preamble, placed his hand on one of your breasts. 

Despite not wanting to lose the kisses -- they were good kisses, needed kisses, kisses you’d waited a long time for -- you both broke and stood there, nose to nose, chests heaving with his hand cupped over your breast. This was….

“S’different,” he rasped and you nodded. Not just friends, not just kissing. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, over tendons that were struggling not to flex and to squeeze and feel. He must’ve taken the pause as hesitation, because he started to pull his hand away, but you shook your head and held his hand in place before bearing down on it with gentle pressure. 

“Ok,” you whispered breathlessly, nodding slightly, and when he kissed you again, he caught your chin, then your jaw, your neck -- all the way down -- and then across your shoulder. You were glad he was holding onto you when your head tipped back as he pulled the strap of your camisole to the side to sponge eager kisses any and everywhere you’d let him, because honestly? If he didn’t have his arm slanted between your shoulder blades, your legs would’ve crumpled from underneath you. 

As it was, you both nearly tripped on your robe when you moved backwards towards the bed, and you landed harder than he did. Your laughs were welcome in the moment, though, and did nothing to alter the mood, and you were still giggling when he resumed his kisses. They only quieted when he reached your chest, and for some inexplicable reason, you tried very hard not to breathe as his own and his lips and the tip of his nose dragged and tickled your skin, but when he slipped his fingers under your neckline to tug it down, there was no need to try at all. 

“Holy shit,” he uttered under his breath in faint disbelief. You didn’t even have time to process the fact that he was in awe of you, before his lips were on your breasts, moving between them in a very careful, very attentive, almost laughably even way, like he didn’t want to miss anything. Your back arched slightly when he settled against you, body warm and mouth hot between your breasts as he nuzzled, kissed, licked, and sucked, taking his time to learn how they felt and what made you moan. As he explored, you did, too, if less so, but your hands found his hair, and petted his face, and ran up and down his shoulders, arms, and back. It was when his own reached between your legs that you clamped your thighs down over his wrist and he lifted up.

“Ok?” His eyes were dark and his hair mussed -- partially thanks to you -- and the pink flush in his cheeks had nothing on the color of his mouth. His forehead was damp and you belatedly realized your chest was, too, and you could feel yourself quivering with the heat of his hand pressed so intimately against you. 

“Yes.” You pressed your hand to his cheek and he turned into your wrist, breathing deeply and kissing your pulse point. 

“Is this…?” He swallowed. “I don’t-- we don’t have to do anything more, I only--” 

“No,” you rushed to say. “No, I just… wasn’t expecting--”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve--”

“It’s ok,” you said. “I’m ok. I want to, it just felt--” New, different, good, so fucking good, and it’d surprised you. 

“Sure?”

Wordlessly, you nodded, and forced your legs to open despite how tense with anticipation they were. You nodded again and let out a slow breath, but he watched you until your eyes closed and your body melted into the mattress. When he finally ran his thumb down your slit through your underwear, you clenched and bit your lip to muffle a sound, lips twitching. This felt… nice. Better than nice, this care and intention stoked something in you that you didn’t remember feeling since you were a frustrated and hormonal teenager raging out of control. He was going to fit the minutes and hours from days and months that had been squandered into every second of the twelve hours you had left, wasn’t he? 

Harry pressed his thumb into your clit and rubbed smooth, warm circles over it, and you touched the back of your hand to your mouth. “That’s good,” you mumbled, heartbeat quickening, face crumpling when he increased the pressure slightly. It was when he kissed your abdomen that you whimpered and pushed your hand into his hair, but he kept kissing along the waistband of your underwear, and your belly tensed when he took a deep breath. You weren’t quite aware of when or how he got them off you -- let alone how he’d managed to do so seamlessly and without awkward wriggles or kicks or knees to his face -- but you were very aware of when he finally had you spread open and he was on his stomach between your legs. You were very aware of how hot his breath was on your cunt, and you were very aware of the sound of that first delicate, velvety lick in dead silence. He got through three, maybe four, careful, languid strokes of his tongue in, with his eyes closed in steadfast concentration and his hair falling over his brow before he licked up your slit and finished it with your clit firmly suctioned into his mouth. 

Your jaw dropped in awe. “Oh my--!” His lips fluttered and your whole chest opened with your breath. “Ah…!” 

He groaned and your eyes watered, and you watched, unable to tear yourself away. He was ravenous -- eating you out like his life depended on it while simultaneously holding back and never giving or taking as much as either of you wanted. Each glide of his tongue was deep and smooth, and each suck hollowed his cheeks for only a moment. You whimpered and pulled your fingers through his hair uselessly to quell the jitters and need to do something. Every time you thought he was going to suckle for a little longer, a little harder, he’d break off abruptly and the inch you’d gained climbing would be erased by your backslide. You were sweating from the effort and duration it was taking -- your breasts and stomach had a sheen on them, and your thighs slipped against the side of his head. His roots were damp and hot, too, to the point where the air conditioner may as well have stopped working, but for all the world he looked like he’d never been happier or more content than he was to be eating your pussy. 

“H-Harry….” Your breath hitched, a muted cry caught in your throat when again he released the toe-curling suction too soon for it to matter. “Please, please,” you begged, fingers combing through his hair as your pelvis rolled under his mouth. “I can’t… I wanna cum.” Straight to the point, unable to wheedle or dance around the subject -- it wasn’t like he didn’t have his face pressed into your cunt right then or anything. “I wanna cum, I really--” 

His eyes, which had been closed up until that point, slowly opened and locked on you, darker than you thought you’d ever seen them. One of his hands unstuck itself from your thigh and he reached up your stomach and you clasped it in yours, fingers laced tightly with an almost crushing intensity between his as you nodded encouragingly, desperately, mouthing please, please to him. He shifted against the mattress, then, and, still holding your gaze and your hand, he puckered his lips.

The ugliest sound ripped from your chest, but you laughed in almost hysterical relief because he wasn’t stopping -- at long last, he wasn’t stopping, and the pressure and tension tickling your abdomen grew tighter, promising to live to its full potential. “Holy shit!” you breathed, smiling despite yourself. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum… you’re gonna make me cum, I’m-- oh!” 

You cried out when he pressed his mouth closer, rutting his face against you in a steady rhythm. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes were his, and you wheezed and whimpered your way through convulsions with their hunger burned into your eyes as you called out for him. You’d never felt an orgasm like this -- so thorough, deep, and full bodied, and entirely draining. 

“Fuck!” 

It wasn’t the guttural swear that made your eyes fly open even as the room spun, but the sensation of his teeth against your thigh. Not hard, but sharp, and when you looked at him you found his face screwed up against your leg, rutting against the mattress. Belatedly, your brain put the pieces together -- it wasn’t just his face in your cunt, it’d been his whole body, the whole time, driving himself against the bed in search of his own relief with his mouth full of you and your thigh when he wasn’t whimpering breathless apologies and confessions of how hard he was (“M’sorry-- oh, shit, m’so-- m’hard, m’sorry, love, m’so-- hurts, I just need--!”). He squeezed your thigh with bruising force, letting out keening moans as his shakes turned to shudders, and you knew he was finished when he let out a noise so deep your hair stood on end and he came to a sudden stop with his face still burrowed against your leg.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “F-fuck, s’so… sorry, that’s….” He pressed his forehead into your skin. “That was incredible,” he said, voice thick and unevenly pitched. “You were….” 

He picked his head up and wiped his mouth and the tip of his nose with his thumb before slipping it past his lips and sucking lightly, forehead lined in agony. With weak fingers, you tugged the back of his t-shirt, and he crawled on even weaker hands and knees up your body. It was a struggle to get it untucked from his trousers and even worse to get it off his torso from how damp it was, but eventually you did, and you threw it away with a whoosh and a thud. He kicked his worn in white Vans off his feet and they landed with a thunk off the side of the bed, and his trousers were next, and when they were gone, you flattened yourself against him, mouth on his shoulder and leg between his, desperately seeking skin on skin. 

“Alright?” He cupped the back of your head. “Ok?” You nodded and he kissed your forehead. “You’re ok,” he mumbled. “You’re good, honey.”

“Are you?” you asked against him. Because he couldn’t stop trembling -- his muscles kept jumping under your touch and his heart was giving its own big band performance in his chest. 

“L’be fine,” he said. “Be ok, just need… need a minute.” 

Gradually, his heart and yours both slowed and heavy breathing evened out. And the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes for good and slipped under was the time.

6:52. Ten and a half hours to go. 

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 6

If sharing a glass of wine with Harry the other night didn’t make you wish things could go back to normal--whatever that was--seeing him with CeCe before bed did.

She stomped her feet in the bathroom when you brushed through her hair. “I’m not tired! I want to stay up later with Maeve!”

Maybe that was another parenting fail in the last year--giving Maeve a later bedtime. She had bargained with you long and hard. She wanted more time on her phone but you wouldn’t budge. When you had heard enough of the I’m practically a teenager, mom! you figured there probably wasn’t an easy way to tell her that in two years she’d look back at herself and laugh.

So you caved, which you were doing more of lately but only with the silly stuff: bedtime, playing outside, dessert before dinner on occasion and even a PG-13 movie at a friend’s house when Maeve really got snippy with you.

But your energy was draining. After all the shit you’d put up with, you figured that hearing a few swears or seeing a high school party wouldn’t kill your 11-year-old.

CeCe, on the other hand, might be the death of you.

She was more outspoken than her sister, if that was possible. She had lungs on her that carried her voice through the house, especially when she whined.

“I want to stay up late!”

“You can’t,” you told her firmly. “I’m sorry. You’ll thank me tomorrow when you wake up refreshed.”

She made a face at you in the bathroom mirror, she probably didn’t understand what you meant but you smiled back at her anyway.

“I don’t want to sleep.”

You didn’t reply, instead let out a sigh and ignored the way she pouted until she stomped her feet again. “I want to watch TV!”

She smacked a fist on the counter when you didn’t reply, your eyes went wide with shock. “Cecelia Rose,” you scolded. “You do not yell at mommy like that or bang your fist on the counter.”

Maeve was nowhere to be found, likely scrolling in a group chat with other pre-teens who sent too many emojis. You almost wished she’d pop her head in to intervene--sometimes she was good at talking CeCe off the ledge, even if just to distract her.

The next best thing, though, when Harry knocked on the door and peered through the crack. “Everything alright?”

“Just dandy,” you forced a smile.

“Mommy is making me sleep,” CeCe frowned up at him.

“She is?”

“She is,” she nodded. “And I’m not tired.”

“Well, mommy has good reasoning, you’ll be sleepy tomorrow if you don’t sleep now.”

She didn’t seem to care, she crossed her arms over her chest once you finished the braid at the base of her neck and clapped her on the shoulder. “I won’t be tired.”

“Do you want to read together?”

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, almost like she was waiting for the catch. When he smiled again, she let out a hefty sigh but headed for the door. “Fine.”

Harry smiled over his shoulder at you and followed behind her, trailing her down the hall until she took the left turn into her bedroom with a butterfly carpet. She walked over the bookshelf, picked out The Big Book of Bedtime Stories, and pulled the sheets back.

You were in the doorway, watching as she fluffed her own pillow and then looked up at Harry. “Are you coming?”

She patted the spot next to her, gesturing for him to get close enough for her to fall asleep on his shoulder. He hesitated, stole a glance in your direction and then did as she said. He adjusted the pillow behind his head and CeCe wriggled beside him until she was comfortable. When she was, she nestled right into him, looked up at you and then said: “are you coming?”

You paused, parted your lips to let her down gently, but then something in you tugged your torso towards his. He was surprised by this, too, shifted in the tiny bed to make room for you to crawl over and squish yourself between CeCe and the wall.

Harry, with a smirk on his lips, looked over at you when he opened the book to CeCe’s favorite story. “Comfortable?”

“Go ahead,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the silliness of the moment but somehow wishing it was routine.

You put a hand on her pajama pants, petting her mindlessly as you listened to Harry’s voice when he thumbed through the pages. You’d had moments like these with Luke, when Maeve was tiny and CeCe was barely a thought. It’d been a while since you laid in bed with another adult, your child between you as she let out sleepy sighs and fluttered her eyelashes against her cheek.

The lights were dim now, you watched as his fingers pulled each page and tried to forget the way they pulled moans from your mouth.

He stopped halfway through, looked over at you and smirked when her breathing got heavier, but he kept going. He’d learned: if you stop too soon, she’d bolt awake and tell you she’d never fallen asleep to begin with.

He carried on like that for a while, glancing over to see if her eyes were open, sometimes catching your gaze but looking away quickly. Timid, like he was just as unsure as you were.

He finished a story and started a new one, and for a moment you wondered if he kept reading just to not disturb the scene: the two of you with your daughter sandwiched between. If someone looked in on it from the outside, they’d think you were a family.

Eventually he cut himself off mid sentence, derailed the story of the princess and the pea to ask you: “should I keep going?”

“No,” you laughed a little. “She’s out. We’re fine.”

He shut the book and pulled away from her gently. You lifted her head a little and tugged your arm out from the sheets and he placed the book on the desk to the right of her bed. He stuck his hand out to help you climb over her quietly. She stirred, opened her eyes and looked up at the two of you.

“Love you mommy,” she said, you bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Love you too, sweetie.”

“Love you, Harry,” she said through a sigh, eyes already closing when you turned around to leave. His eyes locked on yours, caught off guard and unsure of how to reply, but he looked down at her, lips in a small smile.

“Love you too, CeCe.”

And just like that, your life turned to a personally targeted and especially cruel single-mom hell. It was already there, practically. He played outside with your kids? He drove Maeve to play dates and picked CeCe up from ballet? He cooked dinner and poured you wine and tucked deep inside your memory were images of his head between your legs and his fingers laced with yours.

And now he said he loved one of them? You made a beeline for your bedroom, shut the door and didn’t say goodnight because you knew it would only get worse from here.

You were right. It was torture. Daydream, fairytale level torture when he helped Maeve with her homework the next night and even more painful when CeCe fell asleep with her head in his lap after a movie.

Maybe the worst part, though, was when you sat beside him on the patio a few nights later. The sun had set and you had a glass of crisp rosé in your hand when he turned to you.

“Look what CeCe brought home the other day,” he moved his phone to show you the screen. A drawing of stick figures, red and green and blue under a yellow house. He pinched the screen to zoom in, the actual artwork was nowhere to be found.

“What is it?” You tilted your head to the side and let out a quiet laugh. Her drawing needed work, but the color choices were bright and vibrant, just like her.

“Well, it’s us I think.”

“Us?” You looked up at him for a moment, CeCe hit the tennis ball into the pool and Maeve let out a frustrated groan.

“That’s her, with the tutu obviously. That’s Maeve and you right there--I’m assuming, by the way. This is all interpretation.”

You let out a laugh but watched when he zoomed in on the other stick figure.

“And that’s me, I think,” he tilted his head sideways now, looked at it closer. "With the guitar." You reached out your hand, brought his phone closer when he let you have it.

“When did she give this to you?”

“Monday--no, Tuesday, I think.”

“What did she say?”

He shrugged when you looked up. Maeve had gotten the leaf skimmer and CeCe clapped when the tennis ball was back on dry land.

“She said she drew ‘home.’”

“Home?”

He nodded, looked back over at you with raised eyebrows, a sense of nonchalance when he held his palm out to retrieve his phone. “Cute, right?”

It was cute, obviously. It was sweet and endearing and then you asked: “where’s the actual drawing?”

“On my nightstand.” He watched as CeCe tugged a hoola hoop from a bucket of toys. “Might frame it and show her, she’d be so excited.”

“She would be,” you nodded. “She’d love that.”

He left it alone, showed Maeve how to swing the bat better before you eventually decided it was too dark to sit outside. They sat at the island and ate ice cream, cherries and sprinkles and Harry even doused his in chocolate sauce.

Your heart ached for the family that CeCe drew: one with less complexity and one where age differences didn’t mean a thing. One where there was no such thing as death or divorce. Just four stick figures beneath a triangular roof with grass scribbled around the edges of paper.

You wished, desperately, that the four of you could be the stick figure family with no worries and no problems. You wished time could freeze and Harry’s house wouldn’t be ready in another 10 days. In a way you wished that Luke didn’t exist, you wished that your life was as simple as it looked on 8 x 11 inch paper with scribbled marker.

**

Zoey stood in your bedroom, lips pushed out in thought when you held up a different necklace. “This one is chunkier which I can’t tell if I like.”

She thought on it for a second, already dressed and ready to go like the timely human she was.

“I like the first one,” she nodded. “It’s more I’m the boss than that one.”

You laughed at her reasoning, held it up to your neck when CeCe burst through the doors with a scowl on her face. “Mommy, Maeve said I’m being stupid and annoying.”

You frowned at her but clasped the necklace around your neck, “that’s not very nice of her. Why’d she say that?”

“Because I was asking her to push me on the swing but she was too busy texting someone.”

You let out a sigh and made a face at Zoey in the mirror. Buying Maeve a cell phone was something you’d thought long and hard about. She begged and begged for one at her birthday, but something felt wrong about handing over a thousand dollar piece of technology to someone who was barely old enough to watch TV unsupervised.

Harry and Luke’s punching incident is what did you in, though. What if Maeve was at a friend’s house and something like that happened? You needed her to be able to contact you in case she felt unsafe or uncomfortable.

You also figured it would be a good way to distract her from what was really going on under your roof: mom fell for the guy who stayed in our guest suite and now it’s a hot mess.

“You’re not stupid or annoying,” Zoey reassured her. “Maeve just thinks she’s too cool for everyone now that she has a phone.”

CeCe let out a dramatic sigh. “You can say that again.”

A knock on the door, she turned around to see Harry. “Maeve said I’m stupid and annoying.”

Harry frowned and knelt in front of her. “That’s not true.”

“Oh I know,” she shrugged. “I just think that’s stupid and annoying of her to say that.”

You bit back a laugh when he looked up at you, shocked by her attitude and her wit before she ran off to her bedroom down the hall.

Harry stood back up and greeted Zoey. “Hi--how’re Shawn and Benny?”

“They’re great, and they’re on their own tonight which I am so grateful for.” She’d been dying for another night out of the house, she talked for weeks about what she wanted to wear and what she was going to drink. “You two should meet, you and Shawn. He’s not a musician by any means but he’s a killer steering wheel drummer when we have the classic rock hits on.”

Harry laughed, looked over to you quickly before nodding in Zoey’s direction. “I’d love that, maybe we could all have dinner.”

You nodded at the suggestion, hooked an earring into place before Harry remembered why he came in.

“Speaking of dinner, I have a meeting with my stylist but I’ll be there tonight, obviously. Probably around 7:15 though, is that alright?”

“Totally fine,” you nodded. He told you a few days earlier that you’d have to drive separately, quelling your anxiety about showing up together and going home together. Your living situation was no one’s business, but having Harry at the launch party to begin with was sure to stir up enough chatter, even if it was mostly from Tristan or Jeff.

You’d been trying to hide your anxiety. This was your biggest launch to date, arguably a step outside your comfort zone and feeling so uncertain about things at home left you feeling more nervous to have your employees and your friends in the same spot. The girls were headed to Shelli’s, a movie night and arts and crafts, she promised.

But it was setting in now, questions and thoughts and worries were bouncing around in your head like a pinball machine.

Would Maeve and CeCe behave for Shelli? Would they get along with each other? Would the launch party go well? Would Tristan bring a date? Would people like the body wash? Would Harry sit next to you at dinner? Would things ever feel normal between the two of you again or would he move out and fade out of your life like he’d never even entered it at all?

Zoey had stepped out into the hallway, phone pressed to her ear as Shawn asked a question about formula.

“You alright?”

Harry was still in the doorway, suit pants on and a white button down as he waited for your answer.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just nervous.”

“Hey,” he took a step towards you. “It’s going to be great. You’re going to be great.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and then withdrew it. “You are great.”

You smiled, appreciative of his kindness but already overthinking the way he pulled his hand away, like your skin was too hot to touch or like your bodies coming into contact was suddenly forbidden.

“I just want the body wash to do well and I want the dinner to go smoothly. Tristan always goes overboard with these events and I just hope that the food is good, I mean, I’ve never eaten here before--”

He laughed, “hey, it’s going to be fine. I might be a bit late but I’ll get there and Jeff and I can do something stupid to make you laugh and forget about the stress of it all. Everyone wins.”

You nodded, reassured by his words but also caught off guard by how easy it was to admit: “I’m really glad you’re coming.”

“Me too,” he nodded. “Kind of feels like we haven’t seen each other much lately.”

You lifted your eyebrows at that, a week since Luke’s surprise visit and a week since Harry had so much as looked your way for more than ten seconds. You hadn’t told him to stop, you never said you didn’t want to keep sleeping with him or anything of the sort, but he took your words on the patio to mean that, apparently.

How were you supposed to backtrack? How were you supposed to have a conversation with him about it when there’d never been one in the first place?

If you hadn’t defined it originally, how were you supposed to quantify the change that had occurred as the bruise on his skin faded to a pale yellow?

“Okay,” Zoey laughed, a shake of her head when she ended the call and came back into the master suite. “How hard is it to find the bottle brush in the drawer where it’s literally been for the entirety of Benny’s short life?” She cut herself off when she looked up from her phone to see how close Harry stood to you.

He backed up. “Good luck, you’re going to kill it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You nodded. “Yes, right. Thanks.”

He turned on his heel and offered a smile to Zoey, whose eyes immediately flew to yours once he was descending the stairs. You briefed her over lunch shortly after Luke had shown up on your doorstep, but Zoey was decidedly team Harry and had a hard time even admitting that he shouldn't have gotten involved.

Her eyes were wide, lips set in a frown as if she’d just witnessed the most adorable thing. “He likes you so much.”

“No, Zoey, stop.”

“I leave the room for one second and you're having a heart to heart?”

“We weren't having a heart to heart,” you rolled your eyes. “He was just offering some encouragement.”

Partially true. His words were encouraging and that seemed to be the point of him coming up here. But you couldn’t admit to Zoey that part of your anxiety about the night was related to him. It felt stupid to admit that pulling back made you miss him, made you feel like something was missing.

Those feelings left your heart and your head a mess, unsure about what you needed and wanted and even more confused about what was right for everyone.

You turned back to the mirror to put your other earring in place. Zoey didn’t say more, she didn’t need to. She smiled at your reflection and you both knew that your words didn’t even begin to capture the complexity of it all. But you had a launch party to get to.

Your champagne flute was filled when you walked in, which was a great step towards quelling the nerves. Tristan was already working the crowd with grace and poise, smile plastered on his face when he bragged about all of the hard work your team had put in on this.

Zoey was excited to pump and dump in the bathroom, your employees were already plucking hors d'oeuvres from silver platters, and you just tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest of wishing your dad was here. He’d be proud, no doubt, he’d be excited for you and he’d be cracking jokes with Irv in the corner as Jeff tried to keep them under control.

The emptiness that he left in your life was something you’d live with forever, you were sure of this until suddenly there was a man in your house with a dimpled smile and patience for your children that you never saw coming.

Another look around the room, balloons in the corner, high heels and lipstick on the women that made your team what it was. A moment of excitement, of celebration, and yet your heartbeat picked up when you realized that you were here, alone.

You plucked your phone out to check the time, 7:24pm. He’d said 7:15--he clasped his hands on your shoulders like he meant it and you wondered where he was. Tristan pulled you over to another friendly face before you could sink too far down that rabbit hole.

Zoey had Shawn, Shelli had Irv, Jeff always had someone. Even Tristan had Tinder dates for the nights that he got lonely. You had the girls, of course, you had a life that you loved and a job you were proud of. But what did that matter if you didn’t have someone to share it with, to whisper to in the mornings when sun streamed through the windows and you were woken up too early by daughters that begged for adventures?

You’d grown used to feeling that way. Your marriage was over long before the papers were signed, but your father’s sudden decline left you reeling and unsure which way was up.

You’d never admit it aloud, but Harry showing up brought you back down to earth and kept you tethered to a life that felt manageable and doable and somehow possible.

Another glance at the time, 7:32pm. Tristan asked when you wanted to make a toast and thank everyone for coming to celebrate, you made an excuse and tried to buy yourself time like his absence was currency.

You wanted him here, you wanted his arm around your shoulders and you wanted to introduce him to your team--take a bite of his dinner and then bring him home like that was where he belonged.

How embarrassing, though, you talked yourself up enough to let him come and introduce him to the rest of the girls at work, only to be stood up or forgotten or altogether abandoned. Your fantasy of being with him felt even more stupid and naive when you realized that it’d probably never be like that.

Your glass was refilled at 7:49pm, Zoey laughed when your head of marketing recounted the embarrassing moment when a picture of Maeve ended up on the company instagram story.

Frustration, anger, maybe both when the clock struck 8pm. Forty-five minutes late without a text message? But those emotions were drowned out by the judgment: why do you care, he’s not your boyfriend, this doesn’t mean anything.

You answered too quickly when he called, phone pressed to your face: where are you?

Pulling up, down the street, I’m so sorry.

You handed your drink to Tristan, pushed out to the parking lot to find him jogging towards the door in the dark sky.

“Hi, hey, why are you out here?” his smile faded when he could see you were upset.

“I had no clue where you were and you didn’t even bother to text me--” you were stopped dead on the sidewalk, the sky was a light purple and he grabbed your hand to tug you back towards the entrance.

“I’m sorry, I know, my meeting went late and the traffic was terrible, I didn’t want to bother you--”

“You said you’d be here at 7:15 and I’ve been in there by myself--”

He didn’t understand, his eyebrows dipped on his forehead in confusion and he pulled at your arm again. “I know, I’m sorry, but let’s get back in there so you can--”

“No, Harry,” you yanked your hand out of his grasp. A deep breath, a twinkling light above the horizon, a plane on final approach to LAX. “Just give me a minute.”

He sighed, looked over his shoulder to the big windows that allowed a peek into the party. He didn’t say anything, waited for you to speak when the light at the intersection across the street turned green.

“I was stupid for thinking this would be a good idea,” you said aloud, arms crossed in the parking lot. “But it’s fine, it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s obviously a big deal,” he held a hand out, gesturing to the emotion in your voice. “I fucked up, I get that. I’m sorry--but I tried to call you and tell you I was going to be late, something’s wrong with my phone.”

Happy couples strolled out of the restaurant, arms linked with to-go boxes in hand. The air was still warm, streetlights illuminated the wrinkle in his forehead when he took a step forward. “Is this about more than the party?”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed by his ability to read you and sense the real tension beneath the surface. So you lied: “No.”

“Y/N,” he said your name like he knew your words weren’t true. “What’s going on?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should break the silence that you’d both been living in for weeks. Unspoken, so far--the feelings and the sex and the uncertainty of what it meant had been woven into your life and now you were about to tug the thread and see if it unraveled.

“We’ve been kidding ourselves, Harry, don’t you think?” When he tilted his head to the side, you took it as a cue to continue. “We’ve been acting like a couple and you’ve been acting like the father of my children and we can’t do that.”

His lips parted and your heart seemed to stop when he didn’t say anything. He licked his lips, hands in his pockets when he said: “okay.”

“Okay?”

An incredulous tone in your voice put him on the defense.

“What do you want me to say?” His shoulders lifted to his ears, a shake of his head when he dropped your gaze. “Living with you and spending time with the girls has been the greatest thing I’ve had all year, I mean that. But it’s your house, they’re your children. It’s your family.”

He was right, but it didn’t mean the words didn’t sting like salt in a wound when he asked: “Do you want me to move out?”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

He scoffed, upset or bothered or maybe both. “I was never trying to overstep any boundaries.”

“I know you weren’t,” you said quickly. “That’s the problem, all of this happened so naturally and you fit into our lives so well and the girls fell in love with you and I--”

You cut yourself off, clamped your mouth together as if the words would pry their way out.

“You what?”

“I don’t want them to get hurt again.”

He pointed a finger to his chest, anger on his face. “By me? You think I would do something to hurt them?”

“Not intentionally, Harry,” you let your arms flail against your sides. “But that doesn’t mean that you won’t. Their dad left, their grandfather died, and then you moved in and suddenly it’s like you’re the missing piece they never had but that’s not realistic!”

“Why not?!” He was bothered now, more emotion in his eyes when his hands went up to run through his hair.

“Because you’re you. You’re a musician. You’re recording an album and going on tour and you’re not really able to be present. You couldn’t even show up tonight!”

“I’m not Luke,” he shook his head.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then why does it bother you that I was late? Why does that matter if I’m here now?”

“Because if you’d do it to me you’d do it to them. We don’t need to be left by another man this year.”

You didn’t mean for the words to come off so biting and harsh. He nodded slowly, chest deflated before he brought his eyes back up to you. “Fine. I can get my stuff and stay at Jeff’s.”

The shift in his demeanor felt heavy, his shoulders angled away and suddenly the magnetic pull between your chests was no longer there, like the thread had been snipped altogether and your words had been the scissors.

“I--I’m not trying to be a dick.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I understand.”

“I just don’t want them to get hurt.”

“Or do you not want to get hurt?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Forget it,” he said, a few steps towards you when his face softened. “Tell everyone I say hi. I’ll go get my things before the girls are home and I’ll be out of your hair.”

He let his arm snake around your waist, a kiss to the side of your head before you could stop him--not that you would have.

He left you there in the parking lot, alone again for the third time this year, walked out on and deserted when your eyes welled with tears. You turned on your heels to head inside, hoping that Tristan had kept things together and hoping that the champagne was still flowing.

Jeff found you first, hand on your elbow when he spotted you in the hallway near the bathroom, mascara on your cheeks when you tried to soak up tears with a folded napkin. “Hey--where have you been?”

“Harry’s moving out,” you said it quickly. “He’s going to--uh--he’ll stay at your place, I think, for now.”

He looked over his shoulder and back at the gathering behind you. “Is he here?”

“I found him in the parking lot--he left, though.”

“What happened?”

Where did you start? When was the line crossed? Was it when he started playing with the girls in the backyard? Was it when he carried CeCe up to her bed after Maeve’s sleepover? Or was it all the way back when he came to your birthday party and kissed you at the top of the stairs in an empty house?

“Nothing, it’s just time for him to move out,” you shook your head, embarrassed by the emotion streaming down your cheeks. You tried to laugh it off, shook your head and blotted your face again. Now wasn’t the time for this conversation and it certainly wasn’t the time for the tears.

“Y/N, stop. You’re letting him walk out of your life just like that?”

You looked up at him, thrown off by his question. “You don’t even know what happened. I’m fine, it’s all fine.”

“No--I don’t know, but I also know that I’ve never seen you as happy as you are with him and the girls.”

“He’s twenty-four, Jeff.”

“So what? That’s going to stop you from doing what’s right for you?”

“How is it right for me? He can’t be the type of person that Maeve and CeCe need.”

“Can he actually not be, or is the age thing getting in the way?”

“I can’t talk to you about this right now,” you pulled away from him, bothered by his strong opinions and his know-it-all attitude. Some things never changed.

“Don’t ruin something good just because you don’t know how it will end.”

You gave him the finger as you walked away, forced out a laugh and tried to flip the switch: happy, grateful, excited and ready for another glass of champagne.

He dropped it then, you left him with no choice but to follow you back out to the party. He ate mini cheesecakes before the crowd started to disperse and drove you home, a kiss on the cheek before you climbed out. Call me in the morning, he said. Translation: I hope you change your mind overnight.

Harry’s car was gone, and if you had to guess, the bed upstairs was made and the drawers were empty. His keys weren’t on the hook by the back door and when Shelli dropped off the girls and they raced inside, Maeve’s face fell.

“Where’s Harry?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought this far ahead, still numb from the whiplash of emotions. “He’s at Uncle Jeff’s--he’s gonna stay there from now on, I think.”

“Wait, so he moved out?”

“Harry’s gone?” CeCe asked.

“Not forever, no, no--he’s just not going to live here.”

“Why not?”

“He has to work,” you spit out quickly. “He’s busy.” What were you supposed to tell them? Mommy’s an idiot.

“Why does that mean he can’t live here?”

“Because he just can’t,” you said, a sigh when you knew the answer wasn’t good enough for Maeve. She must have sensed the emotion in your voice, though, because she didn’t push it.

“Can you bring your sister upstairs and start getting ready for bed, please?”

Shelli was at the island, quiet and observant when Maeve let out a reluctant sigh but ushered CeCe forward. They climbed in silence, and when the faucet was turned on, all bets were off.

“What on earth happened?”

“He can’t stay here, Shelli. We can’t do whatever it was we were doing.”

“Which was...”

“Pretending that he was their dad or something and me pretending that sleeping with him was normal.”

“And where does being happy factor into this nonsense equation?”

“It doesn’t.” You busied yourself at the sink, grabbed for the sponge and wiped invisible crumbs from the granite to keep your hands busy. “After Luke and my dad, I was just stupid, okay? It was poor judgment.”

She set her purse down on a stool and watched you closely. “Why does your happiness always come last, Y/N?”

“Because! My happiness doesn’t matter if the decision is stupid. Me plus Harry just doesn’t make sense!” You whispered at her, voice wrought with emotion. “He’s so young and busy and he’s in the industry and--”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Which part?”

“The industry, him being a musician.”

You waved her off like she wasn’t sniffing the truth out of you with ease. “It’s just a piece of it.”

“Y/N, just because your parents’ marriage didn’t work doesn’t mean you’re destined for the same future.”

You stopped wiping at that. “Really? Cause I’m thirty-two and already divorced.”

“But that’s because Luke is an asshole,” she reasoned, “not because of you or the girls.”

A sigh from between your lips, fervent wiping again with the tough side of the sponge, you were sure you felt something sticky. “Well, I doubt Harry would ever be the kind to settle down. That’s unrealistic. He’s famous and busy and he probably is sick of being on carpool duty anyway--probably wants to get back to snorting cocaine off of someone’s tits.”

She let out a quick laugh, shook her head. “You are really in love with him, aren’t you?”

“No,” you looked up at her again and then back at the counter. “I’m just being honest.”

“I don’t think he was ever snorting cocaine off of anyone’s anything. I might not know him as well as Jeffrey does, but, he seems pretty happy here with you three.”

“The girls loved having him here,” you said the thought aloud, it escaped into the air before you could realize Shelli didn’t need anymore ammunition.

“And did you?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” you moved back to the sink, wrung out the sponge and then turned to face her. “It was nice, I guess.”

“Well, then I guess that makes four.”

“Four what?”

“Four people who were all happy with the way things were going. Before you went and turned it upside down out of fear.”

“Okay,” you held up your hands, hoping to end the conversation. It was too late and you were tired--the final glass of champagne had your eyes heavy in the passenger seat of Jeff’s car. “I need to sleep.”

She let out a sigh and picked up her purse, moved around the counter to come and wrap her arms around you. “Don’t let your past ruin your future.”

“Goodnight,” you said sweetly, hoping that your tone would usher her out of the house and into her car, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

She laughed, called over her shoulder when she made her way for the door. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

AN: one word, yikes.

tag list: @sunflowerryvol6 @haute-romance-quotidienne @trulymadlykiki @kaybee87 @thurhomish @tpwkhoney @70s-harry @la-cey @sing-me-a-song-harry @morethanamelodyy @theresnooneheretosave @ihearthemcallingforyou @sunfloweratheart @g0bl1nqueen @millennial-teenybopper @rainbowparadiseharry @justsaying20 @andwhenshesays @harryinsweatersandbandanas @harrys-cherriesss @harrys-cherrry @cronias13 @burberryharold @15christyxoxo @stepping-into-the-light @mvaldez7821 @barnestann @styles217 @fineelineee @ursamajor603 @tayrenea @hayyyayy @mellamolayla @lovelylemonadaddict @harrystyle-ish @harryspirate @apples2019 @rainbowbutterflyboy @goldeng1rl8 @elisassblog @staceystoleyourheart @themonsterheloved @greatestview @splendidsunsetsx @awomanindeniall @bequietdee @greeneyesandtea @sonofabitchstyles @sunsetcurve-h @dangerousdelusiondreamland @hsfics @abundanceofsoph @golden-asoab @giveyourheartabreak-xx @poguestyleskye @sabnstyles @call1800coochie

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Were you the person who had a post about "what if Rayla had died on the mission and Runaan had lived"? I was thinking about that... is there a possible scenario where Rayla had escaped with the egg and princes the same way as in canon, but Runaan and the other assassins had survived and now believed Rayla was dead and both somehow missed each other? The angst possibilities from Runaan's end, at least until he got back to Silvergrove, but even then he would angst over having 'abandoned' Rayla...

You know, I don't remember making a post like that, but I can tell it's an angst I could get behind, so maybe I did?

Fam, I love a good honest misunderstanding, oh man, those are great! Very tasty stuff. So let's see here... oh gosh this really took off, huh? Yas.

________________________

"Runaan, please," Rayla begged, planting herself between her mentor and her new allies the human princes, "this is a miracle, a chance for peace."

"No," came a smug, raspy voice from behind her, "it's not."

Rayla whirled in surprise. How had the dark mage gotten free of her manacle so quickly?

Claudia stood beside Callum, smirking confidently and holding the primal stone she'd just stolen back from him. But her smirk dropped at the sound of Runaan's bowstring. A green-fletched arrow whispered past Rayla's shoulder, headed for the dark mage's heart. Rayla's eyes widened as she realized she was about to watch her first human die.

"No!" Callum held his sketchbook in front of Claudia's chest. Runaan's arrow punched through it with a heavy thunk. Claudia, Callum, and Rayla stared at its poison-dipped broadhead in shock. The deadly metal fell just short of cutting through Claudia's tunic.

Rayla spun back to face the older assassin. "Runaan, wait-" But he was already loosing another arrow. Rayla cut it out of the air.

"Callum!" Ezran called plaintively. Bait, perched in his hair, croaked too.

"Get out of here," Rayla told the humans. "And keep that egg safe." She spared Claudia a single glare.

Runaan began striding closer, and he whipped another arrow from his quiver and nocked it. Rayla knew he'd loose that last arrow before he got close enough to use his swords instead. And that, she did not want to see at any distance. Not when so much else was at stake!

"That's far enough, elf," Claudia called threateningly. She held up the primal stone and began to chant in Ancient Draconic. The air started to crackle with lightning.

"Claudia, wait!" Callum shouted. He grabbed her wrist again, but this time, the primal stone wobbled and fell as they both scrabbled for control of it. Rayla gasped, watching it tumble. Neither of them were going to be able to catch it. She suddenly wasn't sure she wanted to, either. She shot Runaan a regretful, pleading look.

Runaan's arrow loosed. With everyone in motion, Rayla couldn't be sure if Callum would be in his line of fire when it arrived. She folded her swords and turned her back on her mentor, squeezed her eyes shut, and stepped into its path.

"Rayla!" Runaan's voice cracked the air like a whip.

"Rayla, look out!" Ezran shouted.

The primal stone hit the stone walkway and shattered.

The first massive gust of wind struck Rayla and tumbled her just as Runaan's arrow found its mark. With a cry of surprise, Rayla rolled across the high stone walkway, flanked by Claudia, Callum, and Ezran, who was somehow still holding onto the egg. Rayla thumped against the parapet and scrabbled for a grip against one of its crenellated edges, feeling her feet kicking in midair while a screeching gale scattered everyone and everything that had been on the castle roof a moment ago.

Runaan stood on the other side of the walkway, barely on his feet as he braced against the wind. His ponytail whipped like an angry snake, but his face was full of pain and alarm. "Rayla!" he shouted.

"Runaan..." Why was her voice so weak? Shouldn't she want his help?

Crumpled against the crenellated wall below Rayla's tenacious grip, Callum, Claudia, Ezran and Bait huddled together for dear life.

"Rayla, this isn't what I wanted!" Runaan shouted over the wind. He tried to stagger toward her through the strongest of the winds, but they only shoved him back against the far parapet.

"Claudia, help her!" Callum called.

But Claudia was distracted by the alarming amount of rainbow-hued magic that had begun crackling off the egg of the Dragon Prince. "What's happening?" she blurted.

"Help..." Rayla called.

"Fine, I'll help her, then!" Callum stood in the storm and reached for Rayla's hands.

Another arrow zipped past, whirling madly off target in the howling wind. Callum flinched back, then grasped Rayla's hands firmly. "I've got you!"

"And I've got him!" Claudia said. She pulled a glowing orange thing from her bag and started chanting, and she squished the orange shape until it oozed meatily between her fingers. Its gory remains caught fire, quickly swelling to a fervent blue heat that made the princes flinch away.

"No!" Rayla's grip slipped in shock, but Callum braced his feet hard and held on tight.

Then Claudia threw it, just as the storm grew an eye of calm.

Runaan was already leaping high with his swords in his hands. The fireball landed directly beneath him. Rayla's last sight of her mentor, as the blast struck Callum and forced her hands free of his, was of Runaan's tumbling, silent figure flying back over the outer wall of the castle and vanishing into the fury of the storm.

Was he coming to save me, or to kill me? she wondered as she fell too, engulfed by the same winds that took him. She closed her eyes, expecting to meet her fate, but a fluffy and overstuffed cart of hay had other ideas and Rayla flopped safely down into the courtyard.

Her first instinct was to jump up and go find Runaan. But then she remembered: his side of the castle roof had a much farther drop. She'd finished climbing it herself not an hour ago. And with all those rocks dotting the river, she couldn't imagine how he'd survive such a fall.

"Oh no... Ethari, I'm so sorry," she murmured brokenly.

But the storm was only growing stronger, and the rainbow lightning up on the roof grew brighter and brighter. Rayla stared in awe and amazement. Was the egg... hatching?

A newborn dragonling would need more protection than an egg. She scrambled out of the hay and darted through the wind, trying to find her way back up. Before she could, though, the storm wore itself out, and she ran into Callum, Ezran, and Bait as they bolted down a curving flight of stairs.

Rayla whipped out her swords. "Where's the dark mage?" she demanded.

"She ran to find her dad," Ezran said.

"Yeah, , but after she got giant heart eyes and squeed over the baby dragon," Callum added, looking starry-eyed in a conflicted way.

"The wot?" Rayla asked.

"Look!" Ezran opened his coat and showed her a cuddly, fluffy dragonling nestled quietly against his chest.

Bait grumbled, but Rayla gasped in delight and held the dragon's little face. "Oh, he's just so cute! Why is he allowed to be so cute?" she demanded playfully.

"His name is Zym," Ezran said.

"Hello, Zym," Rayla said quietly, ruffling his soft fluff. The dragonling sniffed at her hand and licked it, and then he nipped at her binding ribbon, pulling it off. Rayla stared at it in shock, allowing Zym the opportunity to nibble off the other ribbon, too. "Huh," Rayla mused. "Guess these things were just decorative after all."

They ran to the bottom of the stairs and began to hurry toward the main gate. "But what about Dad?" Ezran asked, looking worriedly at the uneven towers.

"He'll be alright," Callum said. "He has the finest guards in the kingdom defending him."

"Yeah, of course!" Ezran piped up.

Without Runaan, the others won't stand much chance, Rayla thought angstily. They'll soon fall too, if they haven't already-

"Rayla, uh..." Callum gingerly touched something stuck in the back of Rayla's hoodie. "You've got something on your back. Ez, go hide for just a second, okay? I need to help Rayla with something."

"...Okay, but hurry," Ezran whispered, as he darted into a shadowy tunnel. "Bait, no glowing, he didn't mean that kind of hiding."

"It's an arrow," Callum murmured to her, once Ez was out of earshot. "Is it, um, does it hurt? I didn't want him to have to see any blood or anything..."

The arrow. Rayla straightened her shoulders to see if she'd actually been hit. "I think it just missed me," she said lightly, not wanting to think about what would've happened if it had pierced even one more layer of clothing and scratched her skin with its deadly poison.

Callum tugged it out of the cloth and awkwardly offered it to her. Rayla took it and stared for a moment. The arrow's shaft had broken when she fell, and it dangled like a felled bird in her grip.

Runaan. He'd fallen, too. Probably permanently. Rayla's shoulders slumped, and she added, "I... We need to hurry. They'll be comin' for us soon, and it's a long journey to Xadia."

"Rayla!" It was Callisto, perched overhead in full Moonshadow form. "Where's- It's done?" he blurted, interrupting himself. His eyes locked onto Rayla's wrists.

A clamor of guards ahead drew his attention, and he leaped toward them, staff at the ready. Rayla grabbed Callum by the arm and ran, snagging Ezran's sleeve a dozen steps later. "Don't look back," she hissed, shifting into full Moonshadow form mid-stride. They didn't need to know she was only talking to herself.

In a few minutes, they reached the forest. Its cool shadows swallowed them whole, and they ran all night. There was no reason to wait anymore.

***

Runaan woke to gentle hands pulling him from the water. He coughed himself awake and sat up slowly, holding his head. When his focus returned, he shot an alarmed glance at the sky and saw that the Moon had nearly set. "We must hurry-" he began, trying to stand.

Four sets of hands pressed him back onto the grass.

"Easy, Runaan," Callisto said. "It's done. It's over. We can go home."

With wide-eyed disbelief, Runaan checked Callisto's wrists, then Andromeda's. Then Ram's and Skor's, too. Their binding ribbons were indeed gone.

A strange sort of lightness flitted through Runaan's chest, heady, intoxicating, and refreshing, erasing his injuries--or his perception of them, at least. His reward for a job well done. The ribbons around his biceps loosened and turned red before drifting to the grass as softly as newly fallen leaves.

Runaan reached back for his shadowhawk arrow and found his quiver gone. No... Ethari's arrow! He scanned his squad's expressions hopefully.

"Sorry. We couldn't find it. But we did find your bowblade," Skor said, offering it.

Runaan took it gratefully, feeling a bit of calm returning along with the familiar weight in his hands.

"We did it. We actually did it," Andromeda said as she got to her feet. Her smile beamed like the Moon. "I can't wait to get home."

"Unless Runaan needs a moment first," Callisto said mildly.

"No, we should leave now, and we should hurry," Runaan said. "Without the shadowhawk, the Queen of the Dragons will be waiting on my personal word. I should not keep her, not in her condition." The rest of his team stood immediately, and he took the hand Callisto offered and stood with focused effort. "We only need to make one stop along the way."

But the rock he'd parked Rayla on was empty. And so were the next dozen rocks. "You're certain you saw her?" he said, clasping Calisto by the shoulders, turquoise gaze boring into his eyes.

"Aye, clear as moonlight," he replied. "But only for a moment. And..."

"What?"

"The human with her pulled your... a-an arrow... from..." Callisto looked aside awkwardly.

"If she took even a scratch..." Andromeda breathed.

"Shh," Skor hushed her.

The assassins went quiet, waiting respectfully.

Runaan's eyes widened. He thought he'd struck true when Rayla stepped into the path of his arrow. Then he thought he'd missed, when she survived long enough to cling to the parapet and call his name. Then he thought the explosion had taken her. Then, hope again, only to have it ripped away one final time. He knew how terribly deadly his chosen poison was. His face froze in a mask of pain, and he shut his eyes. He felt like he was falling from the parapet again, except this time, there wouldn't be any merciful oblivion to put him out of his misery at the bottom. There'd never be a bottom to this fall from grace.

Ethari gave me one job. And I failed him. Does he know yet? Did he watch her flower sink?

Runaan gulped and gritted his teeth. Mourning would have to wait with all his other feelings. He still had a job to do.

He stood straight, gripping his bowblade, and met everyone's eyes, one by one. "We run for home. Ethari can make me a new arrow there. Move out."

They flowed into motion, and Runaan let them take the lead. It was only logical to track and follow the other elves, he reasoned, since he was having such trouble seeing the forest clearly through the tears in his eyes.

[harrywritingsbyme]

Wanna Make A Baby?

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

This One Too

A/N: Older!Harry, dad!Harry, small!Y/n, and breeding kink all rolled into one The fluff is adorable and the filth is filthyyy! Enjoy🙃

It wasn’t uncommon for Harry to dream. He dreamt just about every time he closed his eyes and fell asleep. Dreaming was actually one of the highlights of his night. The first was being able to sleep next to you, and the second would be dreaming. When it came to the subject matter of his dreams, it varied every time. The only constant in his dreams would be you; that’s why he loved it so much. You’d be there right by his side doing whatever you were ‘supposed’ to be doing in his dream. At times, dreaming was a way for his mind to reveal his deepest thoughts and desires. And that’s what was happening this go round with Harry. 

In his dream you were there(of course), along with himself and two other people. As he walks out of the backdoor to you guys’ home and into the spacious backyard, his eyes go straight to a play structure that was in his line of sight. As he emerges from the house even more, he hears a small voice calling out to him. When Harry looks in the direction of the voice, he sees a small child coming down the slide of the large play structure with a big smile plastered across his face. Once the little boy is back on the ground, he immediately sprints over to Harry. While the boy is running over to his father, Harry crouches down so that he’d be on the little boys level and he waits for him. As the boy approaches, Harry’s able to get a better view of his features and he couldn’t believe his eyes. This boy, which Harry confidently presumed to he his son had just about every feature he had when he was that small. The only things that were missing were the straight blonde hair, and the green eyes. Those features were replaced by yours and he couldn’t be happier about that. After talking to the little boy, he agrees to play with him before pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek and sending him on his way so that he could talk to you for a moment. 

As the little boy runs back to the play structure, Harry stands back up and looks to his right, he sees you sitting contently in the shaded lounge area of you guys’ backyard. You had a book in one hand, while the other was delicately placed upon your very swollen and pregnant belly. There were no words that could be used by Harry to effectively and accurately describe the beauty that was radiating off of you. He would talk about how pretty you’d look if you were pregnant but now he was seeing it. The sight of you captivated Harry and drew him in. As he got closer and closer, Harry was able to fully take all of you in. He got to see every little detail. When he was right in front of you, he got to see the small floral print that was littered across your flowy dress. He was able to see your more rounded facial features better. And most importantly, Harry got to see your left hand that was adorned with the glistening diamond ring and wedding band he’d put on your finger almost three years ago resting right on top of the swell of your belly that was temporarily housing his child. He had the perfect view of the two things that symbolized your love for one another. Harry then sits down next to you and he sponges a light kiss to your exposed shoulder. Him doing this results in you sending a soft smile in his direction, which fills his body with a warm feeling. Harry then does the thing that he’d been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on you. He lifts his hand and brings it up to lower it down onto the upper curve your belly.  

Unfortunately, the moment he places his hand on your belly, is the exact moment he wakes up. His eyes shoot open and he’s instantly transported back to reality. He’s in the bed that he was lucky enough to share with you. Once his breathing stabilizes a bit and he takes in his surroundings, Harry’s hand begin to wander. He slowly but surely pulls his arm that was draped across your frame up and he begins to push his hand around your midsection. As he does this, he’s actively searching for some type of a bump. Even if it was a small one. To make sure his mind or hand wasn’t playing tricks on him, Harry brings it all the way up to your side and glides it down to where the lower hem of the shirt you were wearing began. He pushes his hand beneath the fabric and brings it back down to your stomach. It didn’t take long for Harry to realize that you weren’t in fact pregnant and that it was all just a dream.  

That’s the one thing Harry hated about dreams; you always wake up at the best part. When he came to the realization that you weren’t pregnant, his heart sank a little. He didn’t realize how much he wanted his own little family until now. He wanted to watch your body swell as you carried his child. He wanted to watch you be the best mother in the entire world. He wanted to have a child of his own that he could shower with love and affection. Harry wanted to be a dad and wanted to have every last thing he had in his dream. But he didn’t want to have to sleep in order to get it. In that moment, Harry felt like everything was taken from him. The only thing that he had left from that dream is you. This feeling inadvertently caused Harry to tighten his grip on you. Even though he didn’t want to wake you, Harry needed you more than ever right now. He buries his face into your neck and he begins to pepper soft kisses into your skin. He also coos softly into your ear for you to wake up. And it did do the trick.  

“What’s going on?” You grumble through your sleep. You could barely keep your eyes open but you could feel Harry’s mouth moving against your neck and his arm around your waist. 

“Just wanted t’say hello to my beautiful wife.” Harry hums, continuing to keep his face burrowed in your neck. Even though you were one of the sweetest human beings Harry’d ever met, you were still a bit cranky in the morning. And since he intentionally woke you up, he had a little bit of schmoozing to do. 

“Well it better not be before 8 am, because if it is I’ll kill you.” You grumble back to him, moving around a little bit so you could turn yourself towards him. 

“If I tell you that it’s 8:01 will you still kill me?” Harry asks jokingly (kind of). 

“I guess you’re safe.” You concede through a yawn, pushing yourself further into his body. 

“Good, and it’s actually quarter past 10.” Harry continues, looking over at the clock sitting on your bedside table for the actual time.

“You’re in the safe zone now.” You hum happily. “How’d you sleep?” You continue, beginning to feel awake enough to have a conversation with Harry. 

“Slept fine, but I had a pretty interesting dream though.” Harry simply replies. 

“Tell me about it.” You say back, lifting one of your legs and swinging it over his waist. You then push yourself up and over so that you’re sitting on his lap on top of him.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” Harry admires, sliding his hands up underneath your shirt to latch onto your hips. 

“I think so, but I’m always open for compliments.” You smirk, bringing your face down to his.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Harry hums back, slightly lifting his head to peck your lips.

“Thank you baby.” You coo softly. “Now tell me about your dream.” You say excitedly, lifting yourself back up to sit in his lap. Even though you were still a bit tired, you didn’t want to stop talking to Harry. 

“Alright.” Harry sighs, removing one of his hands that were on your hips to help lift himself up a bit. “So to make a long story short, we had a family. We had an adorable son who looked like the both of us, more like me, but still like the both of us, and you were pregnant. Which by the way, you looked even more stunning than I could’ve possibly imagined.” Harry explains, deciding to just give you a quick rundown of his dream rather than go through every last detail.

“That sounds nice babe.” You sigh softly, taking in everything he just said to you. Hearing him talk (and dream) about starting a family with you really warmed your heart. From the onset of you guys’ relationship you knew that you wanted to have a family with Harry. But now after being together for a total of almost 4 years and being married for about a year and a half of them, you were starting to realize that you and Harry were ready to take that next step in your lives and relationship. 

 “Yeah, but it made me think a bit more and I’m starting to feel like m’running out of time.” Harry says on a more sorrowful, but truthful note.  

“I thought the little guys never expire.” You reply, trying to get a better idea of where Harry was coming from. You weren’t expecting such a good and happy dream to make him sad like this.

“I mean late in life Y/n. M’getting older.” Harry explains further with a slightly frustrated huff. 

“You’re in your 30’s Harry.” You say in an attempt to reassure him. 

“Yeah, but 40 is right around the corner.” He reminds you. 

“Then you’ll be a dilf.” You reply, trying to show him the bright side of getting a little older. 

“You’re right, I would be a hot dad.” Harry agrees. 

“Exactly! So being a dad a little bit later in life isn’t so bad babe.” You reason, trying to cheer him up a bit more. You wanted him to really know that there was nothing wrong with being a dad at his age. You weren’t going to tell him this because if you did his head would swell to be the size of an actual planet (even though it wouldn’t take that much considering that he already had a pretty sizable head; upstairs and downstairs), but you thought that him being a bit older than you and being a first time dad was pretty hot. You couldn’t put your finger on why exactly you thought it was hot but you just did. Add onto that the fact that you’re married to him and you have successfully opened the floodgates. 

“You’d be an even hotter mom though. Like milf to the highest power.” Harry says bluntly. 

“Well thank you for your honesty.” You chuckle (and not so secretly roll your eyes) at his statement. After being with Harry for as long as you have, you weren’t shocked in the slightest at his comment. Him not making a comment like that would be more shocking. 

“M’serious babe! You’d even be a milf before the baby even arrived. Like your body is already perfect now, but just imagine how much more perfect you’d look with our baby in here.” Harry rations as he ever so slightly presses his thumbs into the sides of your lower stomach . “You’d be nice and round and delicious. Y’know how much I like having something to grab onto.” He continues. As he talks, his hands move up your sides and right to your chest where he wraps his large hands around your breasts.

“Well those won’t be yours anymore.” You say sternly to him before smacking his hands away through your shirt.

“What about this?” He asks, gliding his hands back down and around to your ass. 

“You can keep that for yourself I guess.” You sigh in compliance. “I swear, it’s so hard sometimes to figure out who’s the oldest in this relationship. For a man thats knocking on 40’s door, I’d expect you to be a little more tame.” 

“What can I say.” Harry begins, tightening his grip on the flesh of your ass before pulling you higher up onto his lap. “I just have a hot wife. Like your personality is amazing and I love you so much for being the sweetest human being alive but you’re gorgeous. I can honestly say that m’gonna want you ten times as much as I already do once you’re actually pregnant.” Harry’s says truthfully. The both of you couldn’t deny that he was in fact telling truth. There were a couple times where he accidentally blurted out how bad he wanted to get you pregnant. 

“Are you just saying all this because you wanna knock me up?” You ask him playfully. 

“Is it working?” Harry asks in response to your question. He meant every last word that came out of his mouth, but he was hoping that it’d soften you up a bit so that you’d give him the green light when it came to commencing the baby making process. 

“Maybe, but you still have a little ways to go.” Now you were just fishing for some praise; and rightfully so. Harry always wanted to hear you praise him. Whether it be in the form of moans, screams, and/or whimpers, or in the form of words; Harry just loved to be praised. Now it was your turn.

“You’d look so beautiful baby. You’re absolutely glowing and gorgeous now, but you’d have an unmatched glow once you’re pregnant.” Harry explains in awe, continuing his “campaign” to butter you up. He honestly couldn’t believe that your already elevated level of beauty could be raised. “But if I’m being honest, m’gonna miss y’tummy like this.” Harry explains the ‘downside’ to your more rounded figure during pregnancy. 

“Why’s that?” You ask confusedly. One minuet he was saying how much more beautiful you’d be if you were pregnant, and now he’s saying that he’s gonna miss your figure now. Which one was it?!

“M’just gonna miss seeing and feeling my cock in y’little tummy. Y’still gonna be irresistible, m’just gonna miss that.” He explains. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll feel it in there. I always do.” You reply to him. When you say that, Harry can feel his cock twitch in his pants. 

“Are you gonna let me put a baby in there?” Harry asks with a little pout. 

“I’d love to have a baby with you baby.” You coo in response, bringing your hands up to his cheeks to squish them together a little. You then bring your face down to his before puckering your own lips and pressing them against his. His lips then begin to move languidly against yours. As the kiss continues, your need for each other grows. You were keeping your bodies as close to each other as possible too. Your arms were now around his neck and his arms were tightly wrapped around your back underneath your shirt to keep you as high up on his lap as possible. As Harry kissed you, you could feel his cock hardening beneath you. He was already a bit swollen from the images of your body that were ingrained in his mind. Now he was getting even harder at the prospect of being able fill you up and get you pregnant. All he wanted to do now as fill you up with his cock, and ultimately fill you up with his baby. 

Keeping one arm wrapped securely around your smaller frame, Harry maneuvers you both so that he’s kneeling on the bed. He then lifts himself up with you still being in his lap and pushes forward so that you’re lying back against the bed with him on top of you. When he does this, you can tell that things are getting heated so you quickly push at his chest to momentarily stop the kiss.  

“Just because were having baby making sex doesn’t mean that I don’t expect you to completely ravish me.” You say pointedly, making sure he knows the exactly what you want. 

“I would never give you anything less.” Harry replies with a smirk before smearing his lips back onto yours. As he kisses you this time, he shifts his weight over onto one arm and he uses the other to push your shirt up your body. Once it was all the way up to your chest, he swiftly pulls away from your face and tugs the shirt off of your body. This leaves you completely bare other than your panties which is the next clothing item he has his sights on. He wastes no time hooking his fingers around the sides and he yanks them down off of you. He instructs you to lift your legs up and once you do this he rips the flimsy material the rest of the way off your body. He tosses them off to the side and he focuses back in on your now exposed body. As he admires all of your features, he imagines what they’d look like once he gets you pregnant. When he looks at your breasts, he thinks about how much larger and sensitive they’d be. He also thought about how the soft and supple flesh would fill his hands perfectly. When his eyes drifted a bit lower to your stomach, he had a very clear picture of how you’d grow as your pregnancy progressed. He was looking forward to seeing your belly grow. When he reaches your thighs and hips, he immediately thought of how much more of a rounded figure you’d have. All of these things made Harry’s mouth water and his cock twitch. “So beautiful.” Harry breathes before bending down to lick into you.

“Oh my god baby!” You moan, feeling his skilled tongue lick into you. You could feel the tip of his tongue circling your entrance and prodding at it. This only made you want and need him even more. “Need you inside me so bad.” You cry out to him, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him up. When you say this, Harry sucks harshly on your clit before coming back up. He then shoves his boxers down to reveal his extremely hard cock. You could see his thick shaft standing proudly between his legs and you could see a small bead of precum beginning to emerge from his slit. Before coming in closer between your legs, Harry pushes back against your thighs so that your legs were spread as wide as possible for him. He places a tight grip on one side of your waist and he wraps his free hand around his cock. 

“Ready baby?” He asks, pushing his cock down your folds and stopping right at your entrance.

“So ready.” You pant, lifting your hips up a little against his cock.

“Good girl.” Harry hums before slowly beginning to push into you. As soon as he begins, your moans get louder.

“Oh my god! You’re so big!” You cry out to him, feeling the very familiar sting that came along with his cock stretching to fit inside your walls. Once he was a little bit inside of you, Harry’s hand leaves his cock and goes to the other side of your waist. Hearing you moan out to him like this from only having about an inch of his cock inside of you unlocked the raw and primal desire Harry had deep down inside of him. Add his desire to get you pregnant to this and he was a beast. Without warning Harry tightly grips onto your waist and he slams the rest of his cock into you. You then let out one of the loudest screams you’d ever made. The slight pain of him slamming all of his cock into you at once felt really good. You felt stretched, and you felt completely full. You could feel this fullness all the way in your stomach.

“Feel me in that pretty little tummy baby?” Harry pants smugly, already knowing the answer to his own question. All you could do was feverishly nod your head against the bed. You were too caught up in how full you were to even form a word in response.

“Good.” He simply states. And with this, he goes straight into pounding into you. The both of you could feel the raw passion radiating off of each other with every thrust. Even though Harry was shoving his cock deep into you over and over again, the both of you had one goal in mind. A baby. That’s what you both wanted, and this was how you two chose to get it. As he continues to thrust into you, Harry lowers himself down onto you. He wants you to really feel how deep he was inside of you. And he wanted to feel it for himself. Even though this is a slight change in position, it doesn’t stop Harry’s hard thrusts. He continues to slam his cock into you over again, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge with each one. You could feel his cock deep inside you, and Harry could feel his cock moving deep inside you. The two of you could also hear each others cries and moans, along with your praises better. You could hear his whimpers and moans at how good you felt around him accompanied with his growls of how he was gonna cum deep inside you. 

All of this made you want to sit on top of him and ride his cock for some reason. Even though your legs were mush, you still wanted to ride him. You wanted him to release every last drop of his cum inside of you and you knew just how to get him there.

“Wanna ride you.” You pant in his ear, continuing to claw at his back as his thrusts continued. Instead of verbally replying to you, Harry immediately lifts himself from you and flips you both over so that your straddling him with is cock still lodged between your walls. You were feeling an extreme warmth and tightness forming in the pit of your stomach and you were going to explode at just about any moment. It doesn’t take more than a second for you to start feverishly moving yourself up and down on his cock. Watching you become so desperate for a release pushed Harry even closer to unloading all of his cum into you.

“M’gonna cum soon baby.” He pants, lifting his hands from your hips to grasp your breasts in them.

“Don’t cum inside me baby. Forgot t’take my pill last night.” You whimper, continuing to push yourself back and forth against him. Even though you were just about completely out of it, you still had a little bit left to mess with Harry. When he heard this, all Harry could think about was the possibility of getting you pregnant right then and there. It was taking so much for Harry to not cum in that moment. While Harry’s trapped in his thoughts, you tug at one of his hands that were clasped around your breasts and you lower it down to your stomach which brings his attention back to you. Your next sentence lights a fire under Harry that pushes him right over the edge. “When you cum in me, our baby’s gonna be right in my tummy and I’m gonna grow and grow with our baby from all your love.” You pant down to him. 

At this, Harry removes his hands from your breasts and then flips you both so that you’re on your back and he’s on top of you. He wastes not time in getting back to slamming his cock into you. As he thrusts, you can feel his cock continuously slamming into the deepest part of you. He watches as your body quivers below him and he could feel your walls contracting around his cock. 

“Cum with me baby.” This was all Harry had to say in order for you to fall apart on his cock. Which in turn caused him to release as well. 

“Fuck!” You scream, feeling not only your extremely powerful release, but also feeling the thick and warm ropes Harry’s cum splashing against your walls.

“That’s it baby, take all m’cum.” Harry pants. He could his body become weaker and weaker with every rope of his cum that flooded your body. “Tighten up f’me baby.” Harry instructs, bring his hand up to your face to give you a couple light taps. Once he feels your walls clenching around him, he brings his arms around you back and he lays himself down so that you’re lying on top of him.

Once he does this, the both of you lay there for a good five minutes. You two were not only trying to gain feeling in your bodies, but you both were wrapping your heads around it all. There was a possibility that you two were going to have a baby. 

“I just know you’re gonna spoil the shit out of this kid.” You sigh, finally coming back to for you guys’ post sex chat. 

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you spoil the shit outta me!” You reply with a laugh. “And I expect nothing less with our baby.” You continue

“Well you’re my baby and you’re going to be carrying our future baby. So you both will be my babies that I love more than life itself which means that I’ll spoil you both rotten. Which speaking of babies, how many are we looking at? I was thinking 2.” Harry ponders.  

“Same.” You agree. “What if we have twins though?” You continue, thinking about all of the possibilities. 

“Then 4 kids.” Harry replies

“When you said that, my uterus trembled.” You tell him truthfully. 

“M’pretty sure that was just an aftershock from my dick.” Harry says proudly. 

“I doubt it.” You say smugly.

“Do I need to come over there and fuck yeh again? Because I will.” Harry says matter of factly.

“You’re getting older babe, don’t want you to kill yourself.” You laugh, bringing your hand up to his cheek.

“You’re gonna get it later.” Harry says, reaching up to pluck your hand off of him. “Just because you’re younger than me, doesn’t mean that I can’t go all day long.”

“I’ll be waiting patiently.” You hum. “Don’t want you to break a hip or anything.”

“Now y’really gonna get it.” Harry grumbles before sending a quick swat to your ass. 

The both of you had a feeling that this wouldn’t do the trick. But judging by how well this step of the baby making process went, you and Harry were more than willing to do it again. 

Masterlist

[cxptain-carol]

𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢, & 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚 | 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 (+ 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠!)

✰  summary: the main three bnha boys react to you knocking on their door in the middle of the night :)

✰  warnings: cursing, and i use ellipses too much but other than that this is pure fluff, my dudes

✰  a/n: this is my first time writing something like this, but i thought it would be really cute, so here ya go! i think it turned out pretty well so hope you enjoy~ 

A symphony of crickets and wind whistling played outside as you stared up at the ceiling of your dorm room, wide awake. The crack between your curtains exposed a sliver of the moon and it shone distractingly bright on the floor that was littered with books that you had dropped almost as soon as you stepped into your room.

The two of you had stayed up pretty late in his room, going over material and quizzing each other for the next day’s test. It was the first time you two had done something like that; something so simple yet so sweet. The both of you definitely deserved a break together after everything your class had been through.

It had been a rather cold night in the dorms, so you saw the opportunity and ran with it. After visibly shivering didn’t work, you resorted to making cute faces as you asked to wear his sweatshirt.

That’s how you ended up here, happily inhaling the comforting scent of him as you lay in your bed. But despite that, something didn’t feel right. And you wouldn’t fall asleep until you figured it out. Your mind just kept drifting back to him… 

Of course, you were probably just missing your precious boyfriend.

Without a moment’s contemplation, you whisked your sheets to the side and swung your legs over the edge of your bed, soft feet gently meeting with the floor. You looked out of the gap between your curtains, watching the trees’ leaves rustle for a moment before you made your way to the door and slid into a pair of beat-up sneakers, not even bothering to put them on fully before you turned the knob and stepped outside.

It was scarily quiet in the hallway as you listened to the sound of your footsteps padding against the ground. Not to mention, unbearably cold. You weren’t very far from his room and in just a matter of minutes you would hopefully be much warmer.

You excitedly reached your destination but before knocking, you paused.

Was he even awake? Maybe it was a little too bold to try and sneak into his room on a school night. Especially after you kept him up to study. But you really, really wanted to see him again.

Before you could think it over again, you raised your fist and tapped your knuckles against his door.

𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢

✰  ✰  ✰  ✰  ✰  ✰

You only knocked twice and tried to keep it as quiet as possible but the sound easily cut through the silence that surrounded you. There was a moment of rustling from inside Bakugou’s room before his voice disrupted whatever quietness was left.

“What the fu-”

“Sorry, Katsuki! It’s me, it’s me—can you let me in?” You hurriedly whisper-yelled all of this.

“Dumbass! It’s one in the fucking morning; go to sleep!” The exclamation seemed angry at surface-level but you could hear his considerate side showing a bit.

“I can’t sleep! Can I, um… could I try sleeping with you?”

No response.

You opened your mouth to try and find the words to convince him, but before they could leave your lips, the door was wrenched open and you were met with Bakugou looking down at you, dressed head-to-toe in all black.

“I’m sorry to bug you, but I just can’t sleep,” you said, tugging on the bottom of your (actually, his) sweatshirt and feeling oddly shy. Somehow, you managed to meet his crimson red eyes, which quite literally softened at the sight of you.

“Ergh, fine. Don’t wake me up again though, dumbass.”

You grinned as you slid off your shoes and followed him over to his bed, taking your spot under the covers after him. Even though your rooms were on the same floor, Bakugou’s felt warmer. 

You contently snuggled up near the edge of his mattress, still quite satisfied with just breathing in his scent that lingered in the sheets even though you really wanted the real thing. But that was probably asking too much. Maybe if you asked nice enough… 

“Can we cud-”

“Fine.” He didn’t bother waiting for you to finish your request as he had already begun reaching for you, gently pulling you in so that your back was pressed against him.

You sighed, closing your eyes and drowning in the warmth of his body loosely curled around yours. Bakugou draped an arm over your side and you gladly reached for his hand, lightly playing with his fingers before he swatted yours away. That last attempt to maintain his dignity (despite the fact he was still cuddling you) brought a smile onto your face.

It was a shame that you were too tired to appreciate the moment fully, but as you started drifting off to the feeling of Bakugou’s rhythmic breathing against your neck, you made a mental note to start sneaking out of your room a lot more.

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨

✰  ✰  ✰  ✰  ✰  ✰

(someone tell me if he even has a bed in his dorm room but whatever bear with me okay)

“Shoto? Hello?”

You knocked a few more times, but ultimately could not hear anything.

“Are you ignoring me? Are you asleep? Shoto!” It was getting harder to keep your voice at a whisper level.

After a long pause, he responded, “Y/N?”

“Yes, it’s me, Shoto. Can I come in?”

He let out a soft hum and you listened closely to hear the sound of his steps approaching you from behind the door. He opened it swiftly, looking down at you with a semi-confused expression.

“I can’t sleep,” you said. He nodded. 

You two just stood there for a few moments before you sighed and stood up straighter, pulling down on the sleeves of his sweatshirt that you wore, which finally drew his attention to it. Only after pausing on the sight of you in his clothes did he look into your eyes again, cheeks slightly pink.

“Can I sleep in here?” Shoto looked so disoriented by the fact that he was woken up at such a time that he blinked a few times before visibly understanding your question.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, stepping back to let you in. You took your shoes off immediately but before you could even give him a hug by the door or perhaps a kiss, he had already returned to his bed and was lying face-down in the center of it.

Damn, he must be really tired.

You rushed over, quickly hopping in beside him and pulling the covers up to your neck. You nudged Shoto gently and he rolled over so the two of you were facing each other. 

While the situation was nice, and you were already feeling a lot more at ease, you knew you wanted to be even closer.

“Shoto… have you ever cuddled someone?” You asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Huh?”

“Have you ever cuddled someone?” This time you asked a bit louder.

“Oh… no, I don’t think so.”

You pouted a little bit; that was pretty sad.

“Well, do you want to?”

“Don’t really know how,” he admitted, his voice trailing off slightly—he probably wanted you to shut up. So you decided to take matters into your own hands.

You snuggled closer to Todoroki, wriggling into his arms as he lay on his side. Your head was placed right under his chin and you happily squished your cheek against the bit of skin exposed by his shirt there. You stopped moving when you felt him physically respond: by wrapping his arms tighter around you and moving one of his hands up to cup your face.

You looked into his eyes, fighting the urge to let yours fall shut, but almost laughed as you noticed he had the same problem.

“I was kinda hoping for a conversation, but I’d say we’re both too tired,” you muttered, kissing Shoto’s neck gently. He tensed up slightly but relaxed soon after, bringing his head lower to kiss you on the cheek.

“It’s okay, Y/N, we can talk tomorrow. Go to sleep now, okay?”

Without needing to hear another word, you smiled and let yourself drift off in his arms, briefly amused by (but completely adoring) the fact that they were jarringly different temperatures.

𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮

✰  ✰  ✰  ✰  ✰  ✰

You lightly knocked four times, listening hard for a sound from inside. You could hear his bed creaking a bit and what sounded like footsteps.

“Izuku? You still awake? I can’t-”

The door swung open slowly and a head of messy green hair peeked out from behind it. You watched as a look of relief washed over Midoriya’s face at your arrival.

“Can’t sleep? Me too,” he said, rubbing his eyes. His voice was more gravelly than usual but it was utterly adorable.

“Did you want to- ?”

You nodded, already squeezing through the door, kicking off your shoes, and making your way over to his bed, desensitized to the shit ton of All Might faces watching your every move. After reaching your destination, you looked back at Midoriya, then down at his bed, then back again.

“What side d’ya want?” 

He shrugged, and you happily took that as your cue to sink under the covers, half-curled up and leaving space for Izuku. Your eyelids fell shut and you grinned at the warm presence of him that followed after you.

“Um, Y/N, can you… I-I want to…” You pieced together his half-muttered sentence fragments and moved closer to him, which he thankfully accepted by lightly grasping you with his scarred hands.

“I thought you couldn’t sleep, now you’re barely awake,” you whispered, half to yourself as Izuku had started drifting off, still holding you by the waist.

You cautiously moved up the bed before taking him into your arms and resting his head against your chest so you could easily rake your fingers through his fluffy green curls. He breathed softly against your neck and pulled you closer, making your heart race under the worn material of his sweatshirt.

“Thanks… for comin’ over. I… I was thinking about it,” Izuku murmured in his sleepy voice, the movement of his lips tickling you.

“I thought you’d be shyer doing something like this, but I’m not complaining, Zuku.” Your voice was starting to sound more tired as well, and you finally closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of your boyfriend breathing and curling his hair between your fingers.

“I love you.”

You barely heard it but that didn’t stop your cheeks from heating up at Midoriya’s adorable, half-asleep confession. Your fingers stopped their combing and you simply cradled his head in your hands before placing tender kisses on his freckled cheeks, the tip of his nose, his closed eyelids, and his forehead (where you lingered a bit longer). He hardly shifted, but you were sure he felt them. You resumed stroking his hair but couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in to kiss his forehead again.

“Love you too, baby.”