#first of all i love that raine has to wear two inch heels to STILL be shorter than eda

[tranzfalgar]

okay it’s time for some stardew valley headcanons for the bachelor/ette(s) so let’s GOOOO

Alex:

- he always awakes before his grandparents, and on warmer days he’ll go down to the beach to watch the sunrise.

- friends with elliot! the two of them sit on the side of the dock sometimes and just chat about life.

- knows how to make cookies, as evelyn taught him when he was a bit younger

- wary of the saloon, as he doesn’t really like the smell of alcohol and only goes into it if he’s forced to!

- if you marry him, he can and will pick you up randomly to surprise you while you’re working!

- if married, he will “bench press” your kids once they become toddlers, and it always makes them giggle

- hates the winter and gets cold really easily. on the first day of fall he’s already bundled up wanting it to be summer again.

Elliot:

- willy is like a father to him. the two of them sit on the docks and watch the fish swim by together

- sometimes he’ll braid his hair, and leah will bring flowers from the forest and weave them into his hair.

- has a rlly pretty singing voice, and likes to record piano covers in his spare time

- if you marry him and the two of u have kids, he’ll always braid their hair in the morning and tuck flowers behind their ears.

- he brings home fresh fish he caught and makes himself dinner every night. that’s why he’s an excellent cook.

- has actually caught a legendary fish before!

- his eyes change color, they can go from blue to green to brown in the same day. people call them the “prismatic shard of eyes”

Harvey:

- he’s so clumsy that sometimes he’ll even trip over air. due to this, he has little bruises all over his knees and elbows.

- his favorite animals are birds. sometimes he’ll go outside and just give them some bird seed. he loves watching them fly around.

- not only is he fascinated with planes, but he’s also fascinated with the weather. as a kid he used to watch the weather channel, and he dreamed of becoming a weatherman.

- when he needs to focus really hard, he’ll pull his hair back with a headband

- him and his mother were and still are very close, and he writes letters to her at least once a week

- he cannot cook to save his life, but he’s an incredible baker! will make you little treats if you’re friends or married

- he always wears a wristwatch, but the time is always 6 minutes behind. he likes it because it has a plane engraved into the side against his wrist.

Sam:

- he had adhd, and his stims include flapping his hands, tapping his foot and strumming his guitar

- he has a beautiful singing voice, think like wilbur soot but a bit more high pitched?

- the reason he likes cactus fruit so much is because he just plants them and lets them grow. he loves succulents because they don’t give him an allergic reaction!

- cannot play video games for shit. sebastian and abigail have banned him from multi-player games because he just sucks so bad.

- love language is acts of service, simply because he likes singing for people he cares about and doing little things for them!

- if you marry him, he will bring his guitar into the coop and/or barn and sing to the animals. they have learned to run over a greet him, since they love his singing.

- his hair is actually curly, but you’re unable to tell due to how much he gels and straightens his hair.

- has mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes

Sebastian:

- loves the hell out of halloween, but is scared of literally everything. he nearly cried watching a horror movie with sam and abigail.

- really good with a slingshot! so if he were to go into the mines, he would wreck some monsters shit with his slingshot skills

- he had glow in the dark stars on his ceiling, but removed them. he used to love the stars and space, but came to resent them because it was his sisters thing.

- he like…irl blushes. like an anime character. when he’s embarrassed, upset, flustered, his face will go all pink. everyone picks on him for it.

- has/had a crush on most of the towns singles. he is a bisexual disaster and secretly a romantic so….take from that what you will.

- a natural born ginger, but dyes his hair. he also has freckles on his nose! and he has an eyebrow slit because of a scar!!

- for some stupid reason, he takes really good care of his hands? like he always makes sure they don’t get calloused, and his nails are always painted black, despite using his hands all the time for work.

Shane:

- he cannot cook. he burned pasta noodles because he didn’t know you had to put water in the pan.

- he still has a chicken plushie from when he was a baby, and it still sits on his bed. and if he cuddles with it at night? no one needs to know.

- has a huge birthmark on his side shaped like a heart

- really good at mixology, so i think that when joja gets shut down, shane works at the saloon and makes the drinks while gus cooks. he adds a whole new section on the menu!

- friends with sebastian. they paint each other’s nails from time to time, or sit in the rain together and just talk.

- kinda strong as hell? he lifts boxes in joja for work, as well as carrying around jas, so i’m assuming he could just….pick the farmer and his friends up?

- he has the most contagious laugh, it used to be a rare sound, but now that it’s a pretty common occurrence, shane makes people laugh all the time with his own laugh.

Abigail:

- buff. she is buff as hell. her and alex work out together sometimes, since she expressed a desire for adventure. she has picked up sam and sebastian with no warning and thrown them into the ocean

- can talk to animals due to her being the daughter of the wizard! so sometimes she’ll go to marnies farm and just chat with the cows or something

- if she sees a tree, she WILL climb it. she loves it so much, it’s just so adrenaline inducing for her.

- her and sebastian tried to go into the mines before but sam stopped them because it wouldn’t have been very safe. they were all 14.

- trying to learn to play the ukulele with a little help from sam. it’s frustrating, but she really likes the sound of it, and she’s determined as hell.

- absolutely cracked at any and all video games he plays. mario kart? she will kick your ass. animal crossing? her island has 5 stars. pokémon? she always wins. you can’t stop her, she’s too powerful.

- she has glasses, but prefers contacts, since glasses would get in the way of her adventuring.

Emily:

- not only can she sew, but she also makes her own soaps and candles! any form of creation she adores.

- loves flowers, and has a lot of little potted ones in her room. she raises them, gives them little names and personalities, and then brings them to sandy and tells her all about each flower

- she can roller skate, and it’s her preferred method of transportation. she can do a bunch of fun tricks as well!

- has an eyebrow slit

- making cute little baskets of homemade gifts is her favorite thing to do for her friends. sometimes she’ll just leave them on their doorsteps for no reason other than she wants to!

- can SPRINT in heels. like even 6 inch heels she can just RUN and it scares everyone who sees it.

- she loves the sounds of birds chirping in the morning, and she’s able to identify the name of the bird by its chirping and calls

Haley:

- is able to perfectly crack and drink from coconuts. that’s why she loves them so much.

- has the worst sense of direction. she’s lucky she lives in a small town, or she’d get lost all the time

- the spring is her favorite time of year, simply because she loves to capture life coming back in those spring months. baby animals, blooming flowers, her friends on the beach or just chilling in the sun, all of it

- her most prized possession is the very first picture her and emily took as kids on their parents polaroid. it’s taped to her mirror

- has a little beauty mark under her lip, but it normally isn’t visible due to being covered with makeup!

- she’s able to do her own nails! this is because she is ambidextrous, yet she doesn’t know, because it’s never been brought up

- she fucking LOVES learning about and identifying plants, trees and flowers. she knows so many it’s crazy. she has a great memory.

Leah:

- resident true crime enthusiast and ghost hunter. she drags elliot with her around town to go hunting for ghosts. they also watch documentaries together!

- has a bunch of little scars on her hands from her artwork

- to get inspiration for works, she’ll go on walks at different times of the day, different seasons, different routes, and she’ll turn each walk into a work of art. depending on all the environment and those who she runs into, each piece is vastly different.

- animals love her, and will sometimes just follow her around for no reason. she doesn’t mind at all, she kinda loves it.

- friends with emily. they are currently teaching each other their own forms of art, since they love learning from each other!

- really good at dancing, she’ll dance while she’s working on projects and she’ll hum a song to herself

- her favorite statue was created after she went on a walk, ran into abigail, and the two of them went swimming in the ocean and stayed there as the sun set and the stars came out. she has a little crush on abigail.

Maru:

- her hair is ALWAYS tied up, it’s impossible for her to work if her hair is in her eyes

- when she was a kid she wanted to be an astronaut, because she loves the stars, but she found she prefers the science and math behind it all

- she pierced her own ears, she has little star earrings!

- watches cartoons and geeks out about them with penny when they meet up in town!

- for some odd reason, she is terrified of butterflies. no one who knows her, or even maru herself have ANY idea why, but she will run away if she sees one.

- her favorite memory was the one night her and sebastian stayed up really late as kids and snuck outside to look at the stars (back when sebastian still loved them) and they ended up seeing a meteor shower

- she presses flowers as a hobby, and just keeps them in a little notebook alongside her ideas for projects and gadgets.

Penny:

- while she’s cleaning her and pam’s home, she finds herself singing to herself. she has yet to be caught by anyone

- each day, her hair is done ever-so-slightly different. each morning, she likes to change it up, and sometimes jas or vincent will give her something to put in her hair

- also interested in ghosts, will occasionally join elliot and leah on their adventures

- she is naturally really warm, so she doesn’t have to bundle up as much during the winter. the kids cling to her because she’s like a human space heater

- has a bit of a geeky side, and she loves to watch cartoons a lot. when she can find the time, she always watches them. they being her lots of comfort.

- has a small scar on her side from when she tripped over as a child onto something sharp. she likes it because with two freckles, it makes a little smiley face

- loves the water and the feeling of sea wind in her hair. she secretly wants to learn to drive a boat, so she can feel that wind in her hair whenever she wants.

[wheresmybuckyhoes]

Game Night

Summary: Bucky and you are basically enemies. That’s the only word you can think of to describe it. What else would it be?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, unprotected sex (do not do this irl), smut, slight angst

I really love a good enemies to lovers at the moment and wanted to give it a go. Let me know what you think. As always, enjoy! xx

‘How about truth or dare?’ Wanda suggested innocently, earning her a series of exasperated groans. You threw your head back in playful annoyance, a drawn out ‘Wandaaa’ leaving your vodka - tasting lips. ‘I meant more like monopoly, or something a group of horny teenagers wouldn’t play’ Tony sighed, throwing back the last of his whiskey, followed immediately by ‘Steve it would mean so much to me if you would get me another bottle of this’.

Meanwhile, you noticed the one and only piece of shit Bucky narrow his icy blue eyes at you from across the table you were all crowded around. You mimicked his expression before turning towards Wanda as you rolled your eyes. You could practically feel his eyes delving deep holes through your back. ‘I say we play. I’ve had at least...’ at this point you held up your hands in front of your face as you counted on your fingers like a dumb child, Wanda raising her eyebrow. ‘...like at least, enough shots to be drunk so I won’t remember this anyway’ you shrugged as you reached for the bottle of vodka only for Sam to pull it just out of your reach. ‘Sam...’ you tried to bargain but Tony’s loud voice cut you off as he spoke, cradling his 4th glass of whiskey delivered so gracefully unto him by a frowning Steve. 

‘As the leader of this group of fucks, I decree that I go first. Capsicle, truth or dare’ he asked pointedly, gesturing to Steve with his glass. ‘You guys are so immature...truth, if I must’ he replied gloomily, taking a tender sip of his orange juice. ‘Are you a virgin?’ he simply asked, earning an uncontrollable giggle from you and Wanda. Before Steve even opened his mouth, Tony added quickly with a smirk ‘a virgin is someone who has never fucked anyone, by the way. Oh, and fucking is what you want to do to y/n. I know you don’t always know all the current lingo, old man, but...’ Steve answered quickly before Tony could continue embarrassing him, and you choked on the wine that had magically appeared in your hand. ‘No, Tony. I’m not, and I’m going to bed’. Steve got up and straightened his shirt, placing his glass gently on an Avengers branded coaster, heading out for the night to his floor of the compound. You didn’t notice the slight frown which flickered over Bucky’s face as you kissed Steve on the cheek as you said goodnight. But you also didn’t notice Tony and Sam fighting over the last bottle of whiskey, so who can blame you.

You played a few more rounds of truth or dare as the night grew dark and the others grew tired. After the first few rounds Sam and Tony got up and left, soon followed by Wanda who was drunk beyond words. You hugged her affectionately before helping her to the elevator and going back to sit down. You forgot Bucky was there.

You groaned dramatically as Bucky smirked at you, collapsing dizzily onto the leather couch and tipping the last bit of vodka you had retrieved from Sam’s grasp down your throat. ‘Fuck off, Barnes’ you seethed. ‘Don’t you have some people to kill?’. He chuckled to himself, pushing himself up from the floor to stand up and cross his arms. ‘Don’t you have some validation to seek from literally everyone?’ he taunted, staring your right in the eyes. You looked down. The bitch knew very well you only wanted validation because when you were trained in an abusive institute not so different from hydra, the only thing that kept you alive was their validation, and he knew that he could get under your skin with ease. But you refused to show it. You looked up and found his opal eyes again.

‘It was my turn, wasn’t it? Truth or dare, asshole?’ you asked, chucking the empty bottle of vodka at him. He caught it swiftly with his vibranium arm, walking over to you and leaning down to place the bottle beside you on the couch, face inches away from you. ‘Dare’ he whispered, leaning back and moving to stand in front of you. He smelt like burnt marshmallows, fiery whiskey and rain. You mentally slapped yourself and reminded your brain how much you hated him.

‘I dare you to stop being such a little bitch’ you stood up, staring up at him with flames in your eyes. ‘Maybe if you didn’t act like such a brat all the fucking time, I wouldn’t have to be’ he mocked, tilting his head to await your reaction. The sheer amount of hate your felt for him at this moment, together with the large quantities of alcohol running through your veins, gave you a dangerous confidence boost. ‘Maybe if you weren’t a little pussy who lost his arm and sanity to some weird scientists because he fell off a train, knew how to fuck let alone talk to girls and didn’t make every single person who he meets want to run away and scream, I wouldn’t act like a brat all the fucking time’. Well shit.

You were breathing raggedly, chest rising rapidly up and down, hands balled up in two tight fists by your side. Bucky’s eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, a flicker off hurt passing over his handsome features. He shook his head and sighed. ‘Shouldn’t have said that, y/n’. ‘What do you mEEEAAN’ you yelped as he moved to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, as if you were weightless. You kicked him in the chest, hard. ‘Put me down right the fuck now Bucky before I...’ he reached his room and threw you down on his bed, shutting the door behind him. ‘Before you what, hm? Because let me tell you something, darling. I think you don’t hate me. No, you just know I don’t want to sleep with you unlike Steve, Sam and Tony and it hurts. It hurts your precious little ego. But if it stops you from acting like a little bitch all the damn time, I guess I can fuck the bitch out of you’ He climbed onto the bed, as you crawled back, until your back was against the headboard and you were cage in between the wall and the super soldier in front of you. ‘Would you like that, doll?’

You gulped nervously, averting your eyes only for Bucky to grab your chin both roughly and gently at the same time and lift your head up so you were staring him in the eyes. ‘So now you go all quiet on me’ he taunted. You could hardly breath. Your mind was telling you that you hated him with all your heart, but your heart was telling you to get this man’s dick inside of you. Before you could silence the tell - tale beat of your heart, Bucky leant in and kissed you roughly. Your body relaxed into the kiss, and your hands subconsciously flew up to tangle in his chestnut locks. He was actually a really good kisser. You pulled away. You reached a hand out to unbutton his jeans, but Bucky caught your wrist. He chuckled to himself, metal hand gently wrapping around your throat. ‘So now you want me to fuck you? Thought you said I didn’t know how?’ he asked as a small whine escaped your throat, feeling your core burn in desire. You furrowed your brows and frowned at him. He squeezed at your neck. ‘Use your words, doll, or I’ll just leave you here as the pathetic mess you are’ he threatened, eyes clouding with lust and desire.

‘Holy shit Bucky, just fuck me already or fuck off’ you cried out. He didn’t need telling twice. He released your throat, using both hands to undress you in an instant before removing his own shirt and jeans. He hooked a finger in the band of your panties and slid them down your legs, over your heels and onto the floor behind him. He took a moment to gaze longingly at your naked and vulnerable body, muttering an almost inaudible ‘beautiful’. All that was left between your pussy and his dick was the boxers he was wearing. As soon as he took them off, your eyes widened, and you felt your cheeks redden. ‘That’s not going to fit’ you said, a sort of breathless whisper.

Bucky leaned in, kissing you deeply and sliding his tongue into your mouth. You almost screamed when you felt his fingers encircle your clit, moaning into his mouth. ‘I still...fuck...hate you’ you grumbled as you felt his hard on brush against your inner thigh. He rolled his eyes as you did earlier, dipping his head slightly to kiss your neck, expertly sucking on your sweet spot, marking you up with hickies. He slowly inserted a finger, followed shortly by two. They only slightly stretched you out, and you clawed at his back as he moved them faster and faster, curling them slightly to hit your g - spot. ‘B...Bucky, I’m gonn... gonna cum’ you moaned, pulling his head eagerly as you kissed him desperately. Bucky kept up with his rapid pace, bringing you right to the edge. You felt the pleasure build up and up until you were ready to cum, and that is obviously when Bucky decided to pull his fingers away completely. ‘What the FUCK’ you screamed, sitting up in surprise, legs squeezing together from the sudden lack of friction. He covered your mouth to silence your cries, and leaned in real close. ‘If I give you the most mind blowing sex of your life, and I stop treating you like a piece of shit, will you stop acting like a bitch?’ he asked, pushing you back down onto the bed, removing his hand when he was done talking. ‘For fucks sake Barnes, yes. Fucking yes. Now please fuck me’. you whined.

‘It would be my pleasure’. He slammed into your now lubricated pussy, stretching you all the way out. It burned, but at the same time it felt like nothing you had ever felt before. Not a single man you had ever been with had been this big, but you wouldn’t want Bucky to know that.

He moaned in your ear, causing you to clench down hard, and Bucky started to thrust quickly chasing his own orgasm. He continued to circle your clit with his thumb as he slammed into you over and over and over again until he had you chanting his name like a prayer along with a generous string of obscene curses. He lifted your legs onto his shoulders to angle himself so that he was repeatedly hitting your g spot and your orgasm finally hit you like a truck. ‘oh SHit Bucky fucking christ holy fucking shit’ you gasped out as Bucky thrusted deeply into you, cumming deep inside. You felt your legs shake as your eyes rolled into the back of your head in ecstacy, Bucky’s hand finding your mouth to at least try to quiten some of your moans. Although he had stilled inside of you, filling you to the brim, he continued to rub at your clit as he worked you though your orgasm. Your mind was filled with ecstasy and you could see stars. You both came down from your high eventually, Bucky collapsing in a sweaty heap beside you.

He pulled you into his body protectively, feeling his softening dick rest against your back. His arm was secured tightly around your waist, and you felt your heavy eyes shut as his warm breath on your neck comforted you. ‘Still hate me now?’ he asked, kissing the top of your head gently. ‘I’ll consider tolerating you for now. Ask me again tomorrow night’ you giggled sleepily in response. ‘Why tomorrow night?’ Bucky whispered as he also felt his own eyes close, a wave of exaughstion sweeping over his muscular body. ‘After we fuck again, of course, and again the night after that, and the night after that, and every night after that.’

[storiesforallfandoms]

rained out ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1349

request?: yes!

“Hey! I'd love if you could do MGK imagine where they go on a first date and him tring to be romantic or put together but it turns out so awkward and cute. I need cute Colson in my life. Thank you 💙”

description: in which he plans a cute first date for the two of them, and it gets rained out before he can even take her on it

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

In the days leading up to our first date, Colson kept hyping up the idea he had. He had come up with it on his own, he kept saying, and it was the most romantic idea he had ever had.

To say I was excited was an understatement. I had never had a guy go out of his way to try and plan a date for me before. Usually it was just a dinner and movie date, which were nice and all, but it was nothing like a carefully planned date.

The day it was supposed to happen, Colson showed up on my doorstep before I was even ready.

“You’re so early!” I said when I answered the door.

“I’m on time, actually,” Colson said, checking his watch. “You’re still not ready?”

“You only told me an hour ago what I was supposed to wear!” I argued. “I had to do my hair and makeup and pick out an outfit.”

Colson chuckled as I guided him inside.

“Is there a time limit I should be hurrying to meet?” I asked.

“Not at all. Whenever you’re ready.”

I still hurried to get ready. I was in the middle of doing my hair when Colson had arrived, and luckily my makeup was already done. I had an outfit picked out - Colson told me comfy casual - but i was starting to doubt my choice. I didn’t have time to change my mind, though. I didn’t want to keep Colson waiting too long.

Finally, I came back to the living room. Colson was sat on my couch and, although we hadn’t even gone on our first date yet, it looked right to have him in my home.

“I’m ready to go,” I told him. “Do I get to know what this date is now?”

“Not yet,” he responded with a smile. “Are you down for a walk?”

~~~~~~

I definitely understood why he told to dress comfy casual. We were walking for a while from my place to a nearby park, and it was a little chilly outside. If I had worn a dress or even just a skirt with heels like I originally planned, I would’ve been in so much pain and a little cold.

Every so often, Colson’s hand would brush against mine. Whenever it did, I would try to move closer to him as a way to signal that I wanted him to hold my hand, but either he didn’t understand that that’s what I was meaning by moving closer, or he was too nervous to actually hold my hand. I was definitely feeling nervous about holding his.

“I don’t even get a hint about this date that has me doing physical activities?” I teased, playfully bumping Colson.

“We’ll be there soon,” he told me, bumping me back. “Have some patience!”

“I told you that I basically don’t know what that word means.”

He rolled his eyes and brushed against me again. My heart skipped a beat as I felt his hand inching closer to mine, as if he was actually gonna hold my hand this time. I was about to meet him halfway when he suddenly pulled away. I looked at him in confusion.

“Did you feel something hit you or am I losing my mind?” he asked.

“Something hit me?” I questioned. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. You know that feeling when a rain drop hits your head?”

I didn’t have to answer then, because the answer to both of his questions came from the sky. A few rain drops landed on my head before suddenly it started pouring down rain. I had only worn a jean jacket, and Colson’s light jacket didn’t have a hood. We were both a ways away from either of our places, so we were in a bit of a situation.

Colson took hold of my hand and pulled me under a nearby tree. It wasn’t saving us from all the rain, but it was doing better than if we were to be stood outside.

“Was this your grand plan?” I asked, teasingly.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” Colson said, shaking his head. “I checked the weather for today and it said nothing about rain.”

“The weather isn’t always so predictable. It changes in a flash.”

He looked bummed out. I took his face in my hand and turned it to look at me. “Did this ruin your first date plan?”

He nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I had this plan to take you on a picnic. There’s this spot in the park that’s hidden behind some bushes and trees so no one would’ve bothered us. I had one of my friends waiting to set it up so that it wasn’t just sitting out in the open waiting for us to get there.”

I looked up at Colson with wide eyes. “That’s so sweet. No one has ever done something like that for me before.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t get to do it either.”

“It’s the thought that counts.”

We stayed under the tree for a while, hoping that the rain would go away. Once the droplets that had made their way through the branches enough to have the two of us basically soaked and shivering from the cold, we decided the best course of action was to walk back to my place since it was closer.

We were both shivering by the time we walked through the door of my apartment. I told Colson to go take a hot shower and I’d dry his clothes for him while he was in there. Once he got out, I took my own shower to warm me up and changed into a dry pair of clothes.

Once we were both dry and warm, we decided to sit down and start a movie on Netflix. Not exactly the big first date idea that Colson had, but it was better than standing out in the cold and rain.

We were halfway through the chosen movie when I took the remote and paused it.

“Why did you pause it?” he asked.

“Because I can basically hear you kicking yourself for today not going as planned,” I told him. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I appreciate the thought that went into it if nothing else. You can’t control the weather.”

Colson sighed and leaned his head back against the couch. “I was just so excited to do this. I’ve never come up with such a romantic idea for a girl I really liked before. Most times, because I’m famous, I don’t have to do much at all for them to want to go on another date with me. But I don’t want to flex my fame to try and get you to date me, I want you to like the real me. I thought...if I planned this romantic picnic in the park date idea that it might work.”

I giggled and ran a hand through his still damp hair. “Colson, I already like the real you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have agreed to go on a date with you. You don’t have to try and plan the world’s most romantic first date in order to get me to want to be with you. I would want to go on another date with you even if you planned this stay at home Netflix night for our first date. I’m not too hard to please you know.”

He still looked skeptical, so I leaned into him. He put one arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. I took this as my opportunity to catch his lips against mine, kissing him for just a moment. It caught him off guard and I pulled away before he could process what had happened. I giggled at the stunned look on his face.

“Does that ease your mind any?” I asked him.

“I think so,” he said. “But you may have to do it again just to make sure.”

I smiled and leaned back to kiss him again. I giggled against his lips as he took me into his arms and placed me on his lap.

[sakiyo]

━ # ONE A.M EYELINER | suna rintaro

+ pairings: suna rintaro/reader

+ tags: best friends 2 lovers, suna being a pretty mf, mutual pining, uni!au.

+ warnings: none

+ word count: 2.2k

+ summary: suna rintaro has never let you do his eyeliner, simply because he’s afraid to let you get too close.

+ listening to: FLESH by miguel & A Warm Touch of Light by Isabella LeVan

+ note: nothing but me rambling on about how pretty suna’s eyes are and how they’re pretty enough to deserve a whole fic dedicated to them. dedicated to my dom @kiyoomae​ i hope you enjoy babe because i finished this shitty fic for you <3.

“i could get hypothermia if i go out there, you know.”

working with suna always ended up the same way, there was no doubt about it. by the time that the clock plastered on your wall hit twelve-forty five a.m, the project was finished, but completely half assed as a result of neither of you paying enough attention during lectures to actually know what to do. yet, somehow, the same desultory assignment would always receive an undeserving ‘A-plus’. mostly because your professor never cared to actually observe the material, as long as it was in, it was good enough for him. [but you would grade it a solid 64 percent]

there's one variable that’s different today; it’s raining. it’s one a.m and it’s raining, and suna decided that it would be a sublime idea to walk to your apartment today, of all days. [as much as you encourage him to do so, he still never checks the weather]. the disruption in your routine was anything but an easy adjustment. and as much as you wanted to kick him out, the rain was growing heavier and heavier and—

“okay fine! you can crash for the night!” 

he smiled, unaware of the fact that you would have said yes to him either way.

+++

you can’t help but notice that suna has pretty eyes.

honestly, you picked up on his bizarrely unique vulpine-like eyes years ago, when you had first met him. but now, as you sit on the couch that occupies the majority of your compact living room, you’re drawn back to them.

its an odd thought to think about your best friend at one in the morning. 

but...he’s admittedly pretty.

you think back to a random fact you learned in the biology course you took in your third year of highschool; you grow into your eyes. never in your life did you believe that such a miniscule piece of information would find its way back into your mind two years later, and because of suna no less.

it’s one a.m and your legs are situated in his lap, his fingers deftly toying with the tip of the anklet he bought you for your sixteenth birthday [he doesn’t believe that you still wear it, even after all the passed time], 

but you’re still fixated on his eyes.

if it was even possible, the creases accented them further, like each line was strategically placed to lure one’s undivided attention to them. it’s funny though, because suna was never fond of attention. [which was also why seven year old rin never took a liking to overly-exertive you.

you still share a laugh with him thinking back to your rock hard resolve as a child and his burning desire to stay away from you. 

it’s funny how easily time changes things.]

you almost feel like you’re dreaming as you watch his eyelids ghost over, his glassy skin reflecting the coral tint of the cheap ceiling light. but you’re not dreaming, he’s right there, in all his ignorant glory. suna doesn’t notice your residual gaze, he’s fixated on the ‘NBA playoffs highlights’ video streaming on his instagram feed. yet you feel creepy, overanalyzing him like this.

but you allow your mind to wander, just a bit.

“hey, rintaro?” you lightly dig your heel into his thigh. 

it’s merely a sporadic case of wishful thinking. you’ve known suna rintaro for many years, which was more than enough time to figure out his complex personality.

and if there’s one thing he never allowed you to do, it was his eyeliner.

six times. 

you had asked to apply the liquid to his eyes six times, and each time you had received the same answer. a simple no. he doesn’t say ‘no’ with malice, though. no...the last thing he would want is you thinking that he just hated you enough to constantly reject your proposals.

suna hums quietly, shifting to meet your gaze. “yeah?” 

he still thinks you haven’t caught on, but you picked up on his tendency to immediately drop his phone in a reflex to hearing your voice a while back— you like it.

“do you think,” you shift your legs from the comfort of his lap and move your body closer to him, “i could do your eyeliner?”

your question doesn’t register.

instead, suna’s hyper fixated on the inching proximity between you two— he doesn’t like it. it’s one a.m and you’re moving one couch cushion closer, your knee is brushing against his thigh, has your skin always been this cold? he can barely focus, but he still hears the droplets of rain assaulting the window and roofs, they’re getting louder and louder and—

“suna? did you hear me?” your voice is accompanied with slight confusion. 

you narrow your eyes as he blinks out of his trance. you’re not shocked though— his tendencies to space out were never limited to lectures alone. “wha?”

your shoulder rests against his, and he swears he feels his heart cease its rhythmic palpitations for a fraction of a second.

[no you idiot, that’s just your regular heartbeat.]

there’s apprehension in your voice, “can i...do your eyeliner…?” suna is a relatively simple man, the worst he can say is no, but you want a yes this time around. 

“i’ve already said—” 

suna’s breath hitches, as if his words are lodged at the back of his throat. your fingers grip onto the peak of his broad shoulders. [you’d rather die than admit it, but you always loved when he’d roll them back and inconspicuously stretch his neck]

suna stares at you squarely in the face. he can feel the outline of your fingernails lightly tacking into his skin. shit, he’s dreaming. his eyes shift around the room, it’s still one a.m, and he can’t get any words out of his mouth.

speak, speak, SPEAK—

you beat him to it.

“before you say no!” your voice rises as you try to appeal. “i’m letting you crash at my place for the night, i deserve a payment.” your words come out as more of a jumbled mess than a proper sentence. subconsciously, you take your bottom lip between your thumb and index fingers, biting it every now and then. suna lifts a brow at your familiar mannerisms— he likes to think he knows you better than anyone else, and he knows that you toy with your bottom lip before taking a test, receiving a report card, or going in for a job interview.

are you nervous?

he sighs.

“fine…” he whispers softly. suna doesn’t exactly know if he should regret agreeing to your question, but he doesn’t miss the way your eyes visibly light up when he does.

you look pretty. 

+++

he regrets it.

it’s one a.m and you’re situated on his lap, straddling him innocently as you dab the brush into the bottle of ebony ink. suna can’t help but feel like a putty in your hands, the same ones that gently grip his jaw to hold it in place. 

he’s still not sure how old he was when your touches started to feel like fire.

suna feels trapped, he IS trapped. between your legs, between your soft body and the tender cushion, between the thin line of friendship and-

he should stop.

[he still can’t believe he’s doing this]

“would you like thin, or thick eyeliner, rin?”

has his name always rolled off your tongue so effortlessly?

“thin, like yours.”

you hum with content, looking him over with a small smile etched onto your face. he doesn’t understand how you can keep eye contact with him so easily, especially while you’re moving closer and closer to his chest. 

he holds his breath as you exhale. he can still smell the lingering scent of peppermint from the gum you were chewing minutes before– usually he can’t stand it, but right now it feels like home. suna knows his eyes shouldn’t be trailing down to your cherry balm stained lips, and he knows that his chest shouldn’t swell at the sight of you wearing his old bleach stained t-shirt that stretched past your shorts.

suna knows that he’s not supposed to see his best friend in that light; so why is it all that he can think about?

“close your eyes for me please?”

he really doesn’t want to, afraid that if he opens them back up again, you’ll be gone and he’ll be in his bed [he still believes that he’s dreaming]. but he knows that he’d rather dance with the devil [the twins] than say no to you, so he complies.

you hum a light tune to yourself as you bring the fine-tipped brush to the edge of his eye. as the pen glides across his skin, suna can’t help but flinch at the intrusive feeling. instinctively, his hand darts up to hold your wrist, stopping you from drawing any further.

“that feels weird.” he can’t see, but he can feel the smile tugging at your lips.

“you’ll get used to it in a bit, rin.”

it’s weird, best friends don’t usually sit in each other’s lap with less than five inches of breathing room between each other. what if he were to do this with one of the twins–

that’s a disturbing thought. he immediately forgets about it. he shifts in discomfort mid-stroke, making your hand slip.

you groan in frustration; it’s at times like this that you can’t stand suna.

“stop moving! you made it smudge!” you lightly smack his chest [though, it’s just a pitiful excuse to touch him].

“sorry, sorry.” your giggles die down as you clean up the line, and suna quickly goes back to overthinking. 

tik

the rain is still pouring.

tok

he counts that you breathe twice every ten seconds.

tik

you’re getting closer to his chest. 

tok

he can still smell the leftover pizza on the coffee table from today’s takeout.

tik

the gel feels kind of nice now.

tok

its one a.m and suna’s falling in love with–

“earth to suna?” you huff as you lightly tap his shoulder, “don’t tell me that you’ve fallen asleep on me.” it’s quite funny to him when you say that; you’re actually what keeps him up at night.

you lean back as he opens his eyes, looking at the eyeliner from afar. you can’t help but get a bit jealous– even without trying, suna had always managed to look perfect. 

you’re so caught up that you don’t notice yourself starting to slip.

“watch out.” his hand slips around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

it’s one a.m and your hands are back on his shoulders. you know that your eyes shouldn’t be on his slightly chapped lips, and you know that you shouldn’t want to throw the hoodie adorning his body somewhere across the room. 

inhale

his hands are still around your waist.

exhale 

you watch as his tongue ghosts over his lips to wet them.

inhale 

you can smell the residual scent of the same cinnamon cologne you got him for a ‘secret santa’ event between your friend group.

exhale 

sometimes, you forget that you’re just friends.

inhale

has suna always been this attractive?

exhale 

the tipped over bottle of eyeliner is spilling onto your clothes.

inhale 

how would his lips feel against–

“wanna kiss you.” the hesitation in suna’s voice is clear. he knows better than anyone that best friends shouldn’t want to kiss each other. his heart is racing. when your eyes widen in surprise he wants nothing more than to push you off of him and leave without saying goodbye– but he’s already said it. 

“w-what?” you stutter out. you can’t help but wonder if you’re dreaming. you want to pinch yourself, but if it is a dream, the last thing you’d want is to wake up.

“i want to kiss you. will you let me?” he says, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

little does he know that you want more; to touch him, taste him, love him–

you take the easy way out instead, “yeah...alright.”

he moves a stray strand of hair away from your face, is he doing this right? You move in closer, eyes slowly fluttering shut, but suna’s gaze still lingers on you. he thinks you look even more beautiful than before [he didn’t think it was possible]. It’s one a.m and he’s about to kiss the person of his dreams. 

shit. he should close his eyes.

the journey seems like forever, but you both finally feel each other.

no, his lips don’t ghost over yours.

they press together, full of pent up passion. it’s hot, too hot for even best friends. 

can you even call each other that anymore?

not with the way his hands claw at the tip of your shirt in a futile attempt of pulling you closer to him, not with the way you gather tufts of his hair in your hands, and certainly not at the way you both feel at home like this. you both can taste every last inch of each other. 

he swears that he hates peppermint, but he’s drunk on the taste of it on your tongue. 

you’re meant to be nothing more than childhood best friends, but you want more and more and MORE.

this shouldn’t be happening, but he wants more and more and MORE–

you both break for air after an eternity, pulling away with heat-flushed faces, heaving chests, and swollen lips. he rests his forehead against yours, peppering ghost-kisses between breaths that tickle your skin. 

“i’m not supposed to love you, but i do.”

it’s two a.m, and two best friends are melting into each other. 

they’re unaware that the rain has stopped. 

[littlefreya]

No More Tears

Summary: On a cold autumn night, August muses over the girl he lost. 

Pairing: August x ofc. Male POV.

Word count: 702

Warnings: August soft and angsty but still kind of a dick(?), mentions of past sexual encounters, fowl language and implied stalking/possessive behavior.

A/N: I was prompted by angel @agniavateira to write this line after this quote by Frank Sinatra. Beta’d by Agnia! Wrote this from August’s POV since these are just fun to write. 

Feedback, comment, reblog. 💖

Title: No More Tears

“The cigarettes you light one after another won’t help you forget her”.

Ironically, for something they say would kill you, it feels like breathing for the first time in many years.

The poison creeps down my lungs, charring them to cinders. Slowly, I exhale, sensing every inch of death rising up my throat. A cloud of toxicity surrounds me and I bask in it the way I once bathed in the scent between her sweaty thighs.  

“Pathetic,” I murmur, taking another penetrative glare at the photograph between my fingers.

She has changed her hair, letting it grow long. The dark locks are now grazing her forearms. Got herself a new fancy coat as well. This is what women do after a breakup, right? Reinvent themselves. They try a different hair colour, buy a new pair of shoes, play with their looks. 

Is that what you’re doing princess? Trying to wash me away? 

But she knows she can’t do that; I got under her skin, I am in her blood whether she likes it or not.

My thumb traces the silhouette of her face below the penumbra of the street lamp. The monochromatic imprint doesn’t do her any justice with the shadow falling on her face; those gorgeous eyes look sullen. The last time I was with her she was sobbing, her pretty little face drowned with tears. That was the last time I kissed her, though she didn’t want me to. So she bit me in spite. 

Had it coming, really. I took her innocence and then broke her heart. 

“Fuck.” I huff, I can still remember how sweet she tastes: like strawberries and champagne.

Two street cats screech in the heat of battle, kicking garbage cans behind me and fleeting the scene hysterically. “Dumb animals,” I spit. The smell of trash-juice and piss assaults my nose all of a sudden. I take another whiff from my cigarette to dull the odour and return my gaze to the picture. Suddenly, a large drop of rain hits the photo. I shake the water off quickly and place it inside my coat.

It’s going to rain in a few minutes, but I’m not going anywhere. Finishing my cigarette, I throw the butt away, lighting another one immediately and coughing into the midnight air. 

She slipped between my fingers like ashes and the longing won’t disappear. Every time I shut my eyes she’s there, lying naked on the bed for me. 

“I need you, August.”

“I love you, August.” 

“I don’t want to ever see you again, August.”

She didn’t mean it, right?

There is no light inside her house. She is young; she must be out with her dumb friends, dancing the night off. Does she still wear the lingerie I got her underneath whatever tight dress she has on? That shit was expensive, but the way she smiled when she unwrapped her presents was worth it. 

I take a long lingering huff and swallow hard. I’ll be here all night if that’s what it takes just to see her, even one last time.

Maybe hold her too, so I can feel the softness of her skin and to have her scent all over me like old times. I’ll caress her hair, hum in her ear, and hope she’ll forgive me for my mistakes. 

After all, I’m just a man.

Footsteps echo down the street, disrupting my thoughts. There are a couple of them, loud heels accompanied by heavy thuds. From the shadows I shifted, tilting my head to get a better glimpse. 

It’s her.

But she is not alone.

He is broad, solid, looks like a god damn fucking hulk. He has his greasy hand on what’s mine, squeezing the meat of her ass like a savage animal. She laughs, throwing her head back. The ogre grabs her and pulls her against his chest, his palms sliding up her breasts as he whispers something in her ear.

Smoke fumes through my nostrils, my lips tasting like ashes. I throw away the half-smoked cigarette and comb my fingers through my hair. Rearranging the tie around my neck, I breathe in sharply and begin striding toward them.

Oh, babe, I can’t just let you go. 

__________________

[dameronology]

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 1

part one: an insight into how microwaving tea should be a capital crime (fem! reader) 

song for this chapter - ldn by lily allen

summary: you’re Percival; reigning queen of the Kingsman, certified bad-ass and one of the most self-sufficient women to have ever graced the City of London. A mission with the Statesmen is a chance to further your career and tighten your grip on international success - it’s a shame that Jack Daniels already has his eyes on the throne. He also has his eyes on you, and it proves to be a problem for you both. {series masterlist}

this has all the kingsman characters but doesn’t follow the canon of golden circle. eggsy, tequila, champ, merlin etc all crop up throughout the series as well! if u want to be tagged, gimme a shout 

- jazz

You didn’t usually answer the door when someone knocked after 11PM. 

It was just common sense, really. Only serial killers, creeps and people who had the wrong address would knock that late. You could have taken on any of those three regardless - you were a bad-ass after all - but you were also busy. You’d been tirelessly working all day at the office, and the grind didn’t stop just because you’d got home. The stack of paperwork beside your computer felt like it was never ending and you simply didn’t have the time to answer the door. Working as Kingsman was more of a lifestyle than it was a job.

‘Oi!’

You almost jumped out your seat when the banging moved to the window beside your desk. It overlooked your front lawn and the quiet street you lived on - well, as quiet as a street in central London could be. Classic to the city, rain was lashing down on the glass, obscuring your view of whoever your visitor was. 

Right, you could add Eggsy Unwin to the list of people who knocked this late. 

‘What the hell, Eggsy?!’ You sighed, opening the front door. Your colleague quickly rushed from where he was standing by the window, elbowing past you and into the dry warmth of your house. ‘It’s almost midnight-’

‘- I’ve been calling you for hours!’ The agent exclaimed. 

‘I’ve been working all day.’ You replied. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d turned up at your doorstep at a stupid hour. Eggsy was your colleague, but first and foremost, he was your best friend. He had a tendency to drive you up the fucking wall and right back down again, and had done since you were in your school years, but he’d always been a little dependent on you. Whether it had been letting him crash on your sofa when his stepfather became too much, or giving him a lift home from the police station at 2AM after he’d been arrested, you always had his back. He had yours too, but you rarely needed it. Even after becoming a member of the Kingsman and essentially saving the world, you were still the first person he came too. 

After wrapping Eggsy up in a towel and escorting him to the kitchen, you placed a mug of warm tea on the table and sat beside him. Work could wait - for an hour or so at least. Chasing an internationally-reclaimed terrorist certainly took precedence over whatever your friend’s problems were, but if he needed you, he needed you. Bros before hoes might not have been the perfect saying for the situation, but the sentiment was definitely there. 

‘What’s happened now?’ You quirked an eyebrow. ‘I know it ain’t an arrest because you would have called from the station otherwise.’

Eggsy thinned his eyes at you. ‘I haven’t been arrested in two years.’

‘So what was it?’

‘I had a fight with Tilde.’ He admitted. ‘I don’t know what happened, but she’s mad at me.’

‘Were you talking before she got mad?’

‘Yeah.’

You raised your mug in the air. ‘That’s probably it then.’

‘Y/N!’ He swatted your hand away, causing tea to spill out onto the table. 

You sighed. ‘D’you wanna talk about it?’

‘No, I just need a place to crash.’

You stood up, leaning over the table to give his shoulder a squeeze. ‘You know where the spare room is, right?’

‘That’s it?’ He pouted. ‘Tea and a squeeze on the shoulder? My life is falling apart!’

‘Don’t be a drama queen.’ You replied. ‘I have to work - and you should be too. We’re close to getting Calahan.’

Calahan was the codename for the terrorist you’d been tracking - at least his current one. The man had worked under several aliases, jumping from country to country before finally falling under the jurisdiction of the British secret services. The MI5 and Scotland Yard were too well known to work such a sensitive case; the location of their offices were publicly known, making it easier for Calahan to slip in double agents. The civilians, however, had no knowledge on the Kingsmen. A tailor’s shop was a perfectly good front for a place to set up base and track the man down. 

Thanks to your success on your previous missions, Arthur had put you in charge of finding him, with Eggsy assigned as your partner. He was just as good an agent as you, but you had little sympathy for his domestic issues. 

‘I was working on it all day.’ Eggsy held his hands up in surrender. ‘But with all due respect, Percival, I don’t work into the late hours of the night. I know how to switch off.’

‘That’s because you’re a man, Eggsy.’ You reminded him. ‘I am one of three women at Kingsman.’

‘That’s still three more than there used to be.’ 

‘You’ve already pissed off one extremely patient woman tonight.’ You warned him, referring to Tilde. ‘Do you want to go two for two?’

‘No.’ He huffed. ‘Women are just complicated.’

‘Or maybe men are just dumb.’ You smiled sweetly, before brushing a hand through his hair. ‘You should get some rest.’

‘So should you.’

‘I’m fine.’ You shook your head. ‘I’ve got a meeting with Merlin in the morning. We’ll have to leave at eight.’

‘Do I have to go? Merlin hasn’t said anything to me-’

‘- yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I said so.’

He couldn’t argue with that. 

--

The following morning, you were headed for the Kingsman headquarters by 9AM. Having filled Eggsy with some coffee and half a bacon-sandwich, he had cheered up considerably. You did feel for him - he had been right when he said that women were confusing - but your attention was still very much on work. That was the norm, really. You lived and breathed for your job. It wasn’t your whole identity but it was certainly your whole life. You were recruited at eighteen and now, it was all you knew. The other agents were your family. 

‘C’mon, Eggsy!’ You demanded, practically leaping out your car. Your arms were piled high with files, keys dangling from your fingers as you kicked the door to the Mustang shut. It had been a present from Kingsmen for a particularly successful mission. 

‘There’s no rush.’ Eggsy chided from behind you. ‘You should enjoy a little leisurely stroll once in a while. It might do that vein on your forehead some good.’ 

Whilst you were decked out in a blazer and black jeans, Eggsy was in his usual snapback and sports jacket. He trailed beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets as you both slipped inside the shop. It was quiet inside, the only sounds coming from the bell on the door and the sound of your heels on the polished wooden floors. You didn’t just wear them because they made your legs look endless - they doubled up as weapons too. Merlin hadn’t done anything special to them, it was just that anything was a blade if you tried hard enough. Your five inch Christian Louboutins were no different. The fact the bottoms were already red was purely a convenient coincidence. 

‘She still hasn’t called me.’ Eggsy murmured. 

‘I’m sure she will.’ You gave his arm a light squeeze. ‘Tilde loves you, Egghead.’ 

‘Fucking ‘ell.’ He let out a snort. ‘You haven’t called me that in years.’

The two of you made your way down the hall and towards the meeting room. Merlin was already sitting at the table, pens and notepads laid out in front of him. Considering that you’d worked together for years, you hardly knew the man. He was always working, always building new gadgets or arranging missions. Did he ever sleep? You wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out that he’d been a droid this whole time. Someone had mentioned his name being Hamish once, but he didn’t seem like a Hamish. You always pegged him as more of a...Simon. Or a Mark. 

‘You two are late.’ He greeted you. 

‘It’s nine o’clock.’ You shot back, dropping into the seat opposite him. 

‘Early is on time.’ Merlin folded his arms across his chest. ‘On time is late.’

You rolled your eyes at the agent. ‘You know how London traffic can be.’

Choosing to ignore your comment, the Scotsman hit a few buttons on the table in front of him. The whiteboard in front of you jumped to life, lighting up with a picture of New York City - specifically, Midtown. You’d been to the city several times for work, usually to do recon or on protection details for British politicians before diplomatic visits. Outside of that, any missions in North America were outside of the Kingmen’s authority. That was when it fell to the USA’s secret services - a bunch of people you weren’t particularly fond of working with. 

‘Calahan slipped out of the country.’ Merlin stated. ‘He’s been spotted in Manhattan by several of our contacts at the Bureau.’ 

‘What?!’ You guffawed. ‘I thought we had tabs on him. You told me we had tabs on him-’

‘- let me finish, Percival.’ He cut you off. ‘We let him.’

‘You…’ you scoffed in disbelief. ‘You let a known terrorist escape the borders?! You know that I’ve had tabs on him for months! Are you trying to waste my time?’

‘Calm down, agent!’ Merlin repeated, this time in a more firm tone. It was easy to let your temper get the best of you - but at the same time, it was the very thing that had allowed you to force your colleagues into submission. ‘He has more charges on his back in American jurisdiction. We have a better chance of convicting him over there.’

‘You could have told me that before I spent six months tailing him.’ You dropped back in your chair, folding your arms tightly across your chest. 

‘Your mission isn’t over.’ Merlin replied. ‘You know more about Calahan than any men here or across the pond. I want you posted in New York for a few months.’

‘Oh?’ You sat up, interest peaked. 

Working internationally was usually the first step to becoming a senior agent. It was one thing to commandeer the respect of your colleagues but to throw your name into the ring on a global scale? That was how you made it big time - and big time meant big time. Your work would go from being based in London, to taking you all over the world. Kingsman who worked on an international level could be in Moscow one day and Bogota the next. Once they retired, they were legends. It was the kind of success you’d dreamed of your whole life.

And New York was the first stepping stone. 

‘It’s only if you want it, of course.’ Merlin pulled you from your thoughts. ‘The Statesman have agreed to accommodate you, should you choose to accept.’

‘Statesmen?’ You tried to hide the displeasement in your face. ‘Like...the cowboys?’

‘Is there a problem, Percival?’

‘No!’ You quickly replied. ‘It’s just...I worked with one of them once. It wasn’t great.’

‘Here we go.’ Eggsy murmured from beside you. ‘She witnessed Agent Tequila make tea in the microwave.’

‘And I swore never to work with them again.’ You hissed under your breath, fists clenching.

‘I can see how that would be disturbing.’ Merlin agreed. ‘Though I’m not entirely sure it’s enough reason to turn down a potentially career changing mission.’

‘No, you’re right.’ You nodded. ‘But I can bring my own kettle, right?’

--

‘I can’t believe you brought your own fucking kettle.’

‘And I can’t believe that Merlin is making me drag you along-’

‘- it’s only for a week.’ Eggsy held his hands up in defense.

Eggsy, who had momentarily forgotten his relationship woes, had been posted out in the city with you for the first five or six days. Merlin and Arthur had been pretty insistent on him joining you - something about making sure you didn’t blow your lid at a cowboy. It was funny, because you were usually the one babysitting him. That being said, deep down you were glad to have him there with you. It would have made settling in a little easier. 

You were moving faster than him, the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors of the Statesman headquarters as you floated towards the front desk. The building was right in central Manhattan, bang in the middle of all the beautiful things New York had to offer. Not that you were going to experience many of them - you were here to work, after all. 

‘Percival!’ Agent Tequila was posted by the front desk, a grin spread across his face as your eyes met. ‘And...I know they told me your name, but I’ve forgotten.’

‘He’s Galahad 2.0.’ You stuck your hand out to Tequila, offering him the kettle. ‘This is for you.’

‘A...a kettle?’ The agent gave you an odd look. 

‘If I’m going to be working with you for the next few months, I cannot witness you making tea in a microwave.’ You explained. ‘I may murder you in your sleep otherwise.’

‘Jeez, lady.’ He muttered. He would have argued, but if there was one thing he’d learnt from your last collaboration, it was that nobody entered into a fight with you and won. ‘But it’s okay, you’re not with me this time.’

‘Oh?’ You quirked an eyebrow. Tequila began to make his way to the lift, signalling for you and Eggsy to follow. 

‘No, you’re with Whiskey this time.’ He explained, pressing the button for the top floor. ‘He’s a little more senior than me.’

‘Whiskey and Tequila?’ Eggsy muttered in your ear. ‘What’s their boss called? Pale ale?’

‘Champagne.’ You replied. 

‘Good one.’ He snorted.

‘No, Eggsy.’ You whispered back. ‘He’s actually called Champagne.’

‘Fucking hell.’ 

Yeah, you thought, that kinda sums it up.

The three of you stepped out the lift and onto the top floor. The views from the windows were almost breath-taking; it wasn’t often that you got to see 360 degree views of one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The skyscrapers stretched out further than the eye could see, eventually melting together in the distance where the sky met the land. It was almost breath-taking just to think about - the people, the opportunities, the magic that New York had to offer. London was your home, and you couldn’t even begin to dream of leaving, but your mind did wander off a little. 

‘Whiskey! I got your girl!’ Tequila yelled, pressing a button on an intercom outside one of the offices. He gave Eggsy a quick glance. . ‘And...the other one.’

‘Sweet Jesus, Tequila!’ A strong Southern accent came back. ‘You don’t gotta yell every time you use the fucking thing! I’m gonna be deaf as a goddamn doornail before I’m fifty.’

A moment later, the door to the office opened and Agent Whiskey stepped out. He was about the same height as Tequila, but a little older. He was wearing a cow-boy hat and there was a...was it a swagger? A spring in his step? Either way, the temptation to stick your foot out and stop him in his tracks was overwhelming. 

‘Well hello, pretty lady.’ Whiskey greeted you with a shit-eating grin. ‘I hear that you’re the little birdy who’s gonna give me Calahan?’

‘I prefer Percival.’ You monotonously replied. ‘And if I’m the little birdy that’s gonna give you Calahan, then you must be the yankee who stole him from me.’

‘Girl’s gotta bite.’ He gave your hand a shake. ‘I like that.’

‘This is Galahad.’ You pointed to Eggsy, who was inwardly holding his breath at the whole exchange. He was mentally counting down the minutes before you smacked off Whiskey’s cowboy hat. ‘Let’s see if you can acknowledge his gender three times in one breath-’

‘- okay, that’ll do!’ Your best friend pulled you back, taking Whiskey’s hand in place of yours. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Whiskey.’

‘Please, call me Jack.’ The cowboy replied. 

‘Whiskey. Jack.’ Eggsy murmured under his breath. ‘Oh my days! Imagine if your surname was Daniels.’

After a brief conversation with Jack about his surname - during which you had seen Eggsy Unwin more entertained than ever before - you were taken down the hall to the agent’s office. Meanwhile, Eggsy and Tequila were escorted off to exchange some files that you’d both gathered. 

Whiskey’s office was exactly as you could have predicted; a mixture of dark wood furniture and red tones. The air smelt of his aftershave, with a hint of brandy and earth.

‘Your desk is that one there.’ Whiskey gestured to a slightly smaller set-up in the corner. 

‘I don’t get my own office?’

‘Since we’re gonna be working in close proximity, Champ figured it was best we double up.’ He explained. ‘Saves us doing a whole revolving door movement when we gotta talk to one another.’

‘Makes sense.’ You placed your bag on the desk, admiring the view for a moment. All of your files on Calahan had been uploaded to the Statesmen’s online cloud, whilst your other belongings had been delivered to the apartment you were staying in. ‘Nice view.’

‘It ain’t bad.’ Whiskey nodded. ‘You been to this neck of the woods before?’ 

‘Only when British diplomats need a babysitter.’ You replied.

‘Babysitting?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s what you Kingsmen do? You babysit?’

‘Why d’you think Eggsy is here?’ You shot back. ‘To babysit me.’

‘Now why would a well-mannered redcoat such as yourself need a babysitter?’ He could barely hide the grin in his voice, leaning back against the window as he peered at you over his glasses.

‘How would I put it in your terms?’ You pondered for a moment, offering Whiskey a sweet smile. ‘Is there a Southern term for I eat cowboys alive?’ 

He gulped. ‘I...I don’t think we got one for that yet.’ 

You nodded, turning your attention back to staring at the view in front of you. ‘You should come up with one. It might be useful.’ 

[yeojaa]

( GHOST IN MY BED. )

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.

pairing.  jjk x (named) f!reader.

genre + rating.   rockstar!au.  e2l (exes n enemies!).  explicit flut aka fluff and smut.    

tags / warnings.  it’s filthy.  like.  dummy filthy.  oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (don’t be silly!), creampie, an inappropriate use of a mirror, idk.  a stupid amount of petnames.  there should be a warning for kook as a person, too.  

beta reader(s).  @jjiminah the lob of my life!!

wc.  2.6k

drabble:  mirrors. four years ago.

It’s taking you far too long to find your keys, far too long to unlock the door, far too long to return his kiss.  He’s greedy and demanding, bowed against your back with his lips attached to your neck.  He sucks bruises into the skin the longer you take, biting incrementally harder with each second that passes.  It doesn’t occur to him that he’s the reason you’re so slow. 

“Kook, stop.”  It’s hardly a word.  Hardly a name.  It skips off your tongue like rain and drips molasses behind his molars.  

Don’t you know he’s a sugar addict? 

He noses against the column of your throat, humming delightedly over the strawberries and cream that blend in pretty swirls, left there by his hand.  He inhales the overwhelmingly jammy sweetness of your perfume - practically tastes it on his tongue - and guides the flat of his palms over silk.  It bunches beneath his rings, around his knuckles.  Jungkook loves when you wear it - loves the way it wears you, like a second skin. 

“C’mon, Pumpkin.  We gotta celebrate.”

You don’t notice it then - how his words come too slow, too slurred - even for an evening at the Ritz.  Coherence has left him, lost to the bottom of an empty glass or furled edge of a hundred dollar bill.  It leaves a shadow in its wake - one that rants and raves and believes in Neverland or something like it.  

The key slots into place - finally! - and he moves as one with you, stepping when you step, laughing when you laugh.  It’s not enough that he’s there in every motion.  He wants more - wants to fill all the spaces between you and then some. 

“Can you get the lights?”  You’re extracting yourself from him as best as you can, not realising it’s futile.  Every minute adjustment has him pressing closer.  It doesn’t even matter that you’re trying to unlace your heels - towering things with intricate ropes across the top of your foot.  He holds you like you’re a puzzle piece that completes him, refusing to allow you even an inch.  The frustration barely brushes the edge of your adoration.  Sharp as the words are, they’re coloured pretty pink - steeped in love and affection.  “Can you please let me take off my shoes?”

An impish smile appears then, draws across his face in a cartoon grin with eyes too big and teeth too white.  

The hands previously on your waist descend, snake themselves down the length of your hips - and then he drops to the ground, knees knocking against slick hardwood.  You gasp - a quiet little thing, more in worry than surprise - and he places a chaste peck to the bare skin right above your knee.

Thank fucking god for wrap dresses being a thing.  He’d fill your closet with them, if you’d let him.  Any excuse to open you up like his favourite gift, bounce you on his lap like a good girl at Christmas. 

“Kook.”  It’s his name again.  Same, same, but different.  There’s a swirl of emotion in your eyes - a supermassive black hole that threatens to swallow him whole like the colour of your irises.  He stares for too long, lost to the twinkling stars and silence.

So pretty, he thinks, pressing another kiss to the soft skin beneath his hands.  

“Yeah, Pumpkin?”  It’s sinful, seductive, laced in cigarette smoke and Scotch.  He’s a sucker for a good single malt but he wants something else now - something to ease the burn.  

“Shoes,”  you repeat, so faint he has to strain to hear it.  

Five fingers that had busied themselves beneath your dress fall, dropping to the neatly knotted tie at your ankle.  One flick of his wrist and it’s undone.  You step out, teetering dangerously for a moment;  you catch yourself on the broad expanse of his back, digging fingers into leather and sinew. 

Jungkook buries a laugh against your thigh, open-mouthed and full of teeth.  “Hold on, angel.”

The other shoe unravels just as quickly and you’re back on solid ground, beaming down at him.  “Thank you.”  A gentle ruffle to his hair follows, the glide of your manicured nails across his scalp easing his cheek to rest upon your leg.  

“Any time.”  He should get up - his knees are beginning to ache - but he’s far too preoccupied with the lace beneath his still wandering hand, intricate patterns woven into a welcome sign.  They trace high across your hips, framing your ass in a way that makes his cock twitch in his suddenly too-tight jeans.  

“Baby?”  It’s indistinct, somewhere above the clouds his head is suddenly lost in.

You’re radiating heat through every limb.  He seeks it out, nosing against the material of your dress in search of more;  he wants to bury himself where you’re warmest, fall headlong into sunshine.  “Hm?”  It comes in an exhale, followed by teeth and tongue.

The clouds part, just a little.  His path is lit - a neon outline beneath your skin.  He follows it without thought, sweeping his hands higher and higher.  

You jolt when he licks a strip up your slit, lace disappearing between your folds.  The material sticks to your cunt, sodden and ruined and nearly transparent, both from your slick and his saliva.  He grins up at you as he repeats the motion over and over, dragging his tongue in measured trails.  

He hears more than sees the way your back hits the door - his grip on your leg tightening to keep you balanced - but he hears and then feels your hands in his hair, tugging gently at the roots.  “Kook.”  It’s frenzied and breathless and he’s hardly even touched you.  It drives him crazy, nails digging crescents into the meat of your ass.  

“Yeah, Pumpkin?”  Repeated verbatim with that same breakneck smile.    

“Need you.”

“Need me?”  He echoes, as if he hasn’t heard you, as if it isn’t glaringly obvious by the way you coat your own thighs, beading prettily over his fingers.  “What do you need me for, baby?”

A part of you hates when he does this.  He knows that.  You like when he’s gentle, full of love.  You like getting your way with him, knowing he needs you just as badly as you need him.  It makes you feel like a queen.  

The queen of his castle - the only woman Jungkook will ever love this way.  How could he deny you?

So he relents, just a little, sliding his thumb beneath the material of your thong.  It catches on your swollen clit and dips between your lips before he’s tugging terribly slowly, at a snail’s pace that has you tightening your grip.  He muffles a laugh when it’s halfway down your legs, caught between your knees.  You’re like Bambi on ice, impatient and shifting from foot to foot in your haste.

“Careful,”  he coos, slipping your underwear into his back pocket for safekeeping before he peers up at you, his face framed by hazy streetlights and his crown of dark hair.  

He feels the brush of your fingers against his temple, the subtle squeeze of your thighs beneath his touch.  “I love you.”

It isn’t reciprocal in words, answered instead with a kiss that leaves you panting above him.  His tongue works you open, dipping into your heat before rising to toy at your clit.  He repeats the motion until you’re shaking, tremors passing through your legs to the hands that hold you in place trapped between him and the door.  

There’s an angel’s chorus filtering into his ears - quiet little gasps that turn lewd, breathless recitals that leave him aching to bend you over and fuck you senseless. 

A single digit brushes your entrance, sliding home in a smooth press of his wrist.  You take him to the knuckle without an ounce of resistance and he grins, triumphant, against your core.  There’s nothing more intoxicating than how much you want him - need him - and he gives greedily, slotting another in alongside the first.  You mewl above him, the sound music to his ears, and he scissors them expertly, watching in rapt fascination as your pussy stretches to accommodate the width of two long fingers.  “Fuck - I love you,”  he hums, awestruck and adoring. 

Something like a laugh bounces off your tongue and descends into a wanton moan before it can right itself.  A tell-tale sign you’re almost there.  Perfect.

He zeroes in on your clit, tongue dancing over it with each drag of his fingers.  He’s curling them now, intimately familiar with the rough bundle of nerves that turns you stupid.  You’re practically dripping down his hand and he’s careful not to let a single drop go to waste, licking his way over his knuckles and back to the source in languid strokes before he returns to toying with the pearl between your legs.  “So sweet, baby.  Like pumpkin pie.”  

You’re trembling, hands like iron in his hair, pulling him closer closer closer.  

“Please,”  you beg.  You’re rutting against him, chest heaving - a world away from the mild-mannered girl-next-door.  It’s so hot he can’t help but take pause, wait just a moment so he can take in the sight.

Poor choice.  He really can’t wait any longer.

He rises in a single fluid motion - even intoxicated, he’s a work of art.  He laughs off the way you watch him, expression an intoxicating mixture of admiration and salaciousness.  “Come here, angel.”  Here, to his arms.  Here, where you belong, cradled against all five feet ten inches of him.  

You’re putty in Jungkook’s hands, far too close to the brink of release to even think of arguing when he rotates you, pressing the full, unyielding expanse of his chest to the small of your back.  

“Look how beautiful you are, baby.”  Debauched words that sound more like love, whispered adoringly into your ear.  Sweet nothings that incinerate every ounce of rationale, leaving nothing but yearning in its wake.  He presses a kiss to your cheek, broad palms heavy at your hips.  

He’s right - you are beautiful, framed within the mirror’s reflection and barely lit by the moon. 

“Pretty,”  you agree, right as one hand shifts, drops and finds a home against your core.  Two digits press, unrelenting, into your cunt and you keen, head dropping against his shoulder like he’s just cut your marionette strings with the scissor of his fingers.  The flat of his palm grinds against your clit and he snickers, the sound deposited into your hair like a gift. 

“That’s right, Pumpkin.  So pretty.”  The P’s pop off his tongue, enunciated with each curl of his knuckles, each blossom he blooms over your neck. 

He fucks you slowly, languidly, unhurriedly - even as you writhe against him, pouting and demanding.  He does it so you’re delirious with need but not so lucid he loses you;  every time you’re about to slip, he recentres your focus and drags you back from the edge - either with a gentle tweak to your clit or a particularly hard thrust of his fingers.  Anything to keep you there, eyes locked with his in the hallway mirror.

“Look at you.  You’re so perfect.”  Praise rains down and you’re smiling, a faraway, feral glint in your eye.  “So fucking sexy for me.  Do you want more?”  His fingers still within your fluttering walls, massaging tight against your g-spot as his thumb adjusts to impose the same pressure upon your throbbing clit.  “Want me to fill you up?  Fuck you silly?”  

You don’t have to speak for him to know your answer - he feels the way you clench around him, eager for something far better.  

“Relax, baby,”  he murmurs, that same messy hand making quick work of his leather belt and the button and zipper of his jeans.  It’s honestly a feat given how insistent you are, grinding your ass over his aching cock like you might die without it.  Your impatience is endearing and intoxicating;  he almost topples you both over in his haste to step out of his clothes, pile kicked aside as you begin to whine, nails digging into the arm that still rests heavy around your waist.  “Don’t worry, angel.  I’ve got you.”   

He does - and not a second too soon.

The head of his cock is glossy, leaking pre-cum over the purpled tip.  It makes it almost easy for him to slip inside you except for the fact that it’s never that easy and the stretch is undeniable, bordering on painful despite how needy you are for him and how well he’s prepared you.   

Every nerve ending is shot as he sinks into you.  He fills you entirely as a groan tumbles off his lips, your ass flush to his hips.  You’re so wet he can feel your slick over his own thighs, coating the base of his cock as you squeeze around him.  A whine of his own pitches, forms in a bite to your shoulder that has you crying out.  “Fuck.  Fuck.”

He’s mouthing over silk, over skin, fingers firm around the column of your neck;  tips press into softness, stealing your breath.  The other hand anchors you against him, slung low over your side with his palm splayed across your ribs.  It’s the only way he keeps you from jolting forward as he ruts against you, fucking into your heat at a relentless pace.  He can read the strain in your limbs, how it grows and grows and nearly snaps in two when he tightens his grip at your throat.  

“You wanna come, pretty?”  It’s heavy, hungry, hoarse - gravel beneath velvet.  You nod senselessly, swallowing thickly beneath the palm that sears heat and try to focus on the same feverish burn that claims your insides and melts your bones.  Jungkook knows exactly which buttons to push, how to light you up like a night sky.  

“Please.”  

It’s an explosion of light and colour behind your eyelids and under your skin.  You’re crying, sobbing, wailing - a wrecked mess caged against his chest as your orgasm crashes over you.  Pleasure washes over you in waves, dripping down your cheeks;  you’re spasming around his cock, gripping him so tightly he nearly chokes as he chases the same high. 

The sounds you make are so pretty, helpless and somehow still desperate for more.  They run on a loop inside his head, stuttering his rhythm as he fucks you through your sensitivity and into another high that has you clawing at his hands.  

You’re out of body, eyes rolled so far back into your head that he can see only the whites.  He squeezes harder at your neck - knuckles blown out, tense, a stark contrast to the mosaic of red that he’d painted earlier  - and you’re a rag doll doing your best, trying to meet his stare as he grins wolfishly at you.  “That’s right.  One more.  One more with me.”

It’s impossible to deny Jungkook or his near brutal pace.  Where skin meets skin, there’ll be bruises, imprints left by the hard ridges of his hips, the shape of his fingers - a reminder of tonight for days to come.  He’ll trace them with his tongue and never let you forget.

“Right there,”  he barks with a sloppy, stuttering roll of his hips.  

Your second orgasm is messy, wet, soaking the silk of your dress and his hand as he works your clit.  A million volts of electricity buzz through your body, from the tip of your ears to the balls of your feet;  he can feel it, passed between the two of you like a livewire.  It launches him over his own peak - a lit match to gasoline.

He fills you with a low groan and a last, purposeful thrust.  He holds you impossibly tight, dragging his hips in small circles as you milk him for all he’s worth, cum slipping past your swollen lips with each movement, despite how eager he is to keep it right where it is, staining your walls and reminding you you’re his.  

Always have been, always will be.

author note.  please note this is a flashback drabble (you might’ve caught the reference in chapter 3)!  this is not present day, sadly.  but did you catch any of the foreshadowing in this?  hopefully!  if not, i'm sorry.  thank you for reading anyway.  i appreciate you!

tag list.  @jalexad @aa-ronpa @kookiesbreaky @celestialflamefairy @xjoonchildx @pars-ley @seokjinssi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @patpus @dazedjjk @koozui @jinhitwhore @always-wishing-for-rain​

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Title: Just Gotta Stay Calm

Word Count: 3966

Fandom: Gravedale High

Ship/Pairing: Vinnie Stoker/Reggie Moonshroud

Tags: First Dates, Vampire Family, Tradition, Awkward Crush, Vampire Boyfriend, Werewolf Boyfriend, First Kiss, Dorks in Love, Awkward Dates, Boys in Love, Friendship/Love

Warnings: First Works of the fandom, swearing(small), awkward, fluff

Vinnie let in a breath as he examines himself in the special vampire mirror on his bedroom wall. He quietly checks every inch of his face closely before opening his mouth to check his fangs.

Good, He thought with a charming grin to himself. No pimples, no stuff in my teeth, no flaws in sight.  Vinnie went to his dresser and takes out some cologne he bought specifically for today, a scent of calming forest rain, and sprayed some on his neck and a little bit in his shirt. Not a lot just the basic stuff to seem simple and posh.

Vinnie and Reggie are finally getting themselves a date.  A real, really real, true date.  Just the two of them.  And Vinnie could be more happier then this moment!

Vinnie has been meaning to ask his best friend out for quite some time, since the first moment he noticed his feelings were a bit more then platonic bashful moths in his chest and stomach actually.  It took him a total of two full months to completely wrap his head around the fact that he - Vincent "Vinnie" Stoker - was wings over heels in love with the world's one and only Reggie Moonshroud.  However, it took him nearly a YEAR to get up all the courage to ask the boy out. Honestly, if it weren't for his friends this day might've never happened.

The young vampire left his bedroom and hurries down his stairs, only to be stopped by the voice of his old man, "Vincent, can you come here please?" Vinnie let out a silent shutter as he mentally cursed himself.

He slowly turned his body fully towards the older vampire sitting in his velvet chair with a pipe in between his lips, small puffs of the smoke emerging out the ends. The teen slowly walked over. "Y-Yea pops?" His voice rarely stammers when speaking, hasn't since he was in the 6th grade, at least not when he nervous beyond his wits like when he tried to get the chance to ask Reggie out and plan out what to do on said date.

"Are you going to go on your date soon?" Asked Mr. Stoker. Vinnie nods some in reply, his hands fumbling into his jacket's pockets. This was not what he wanted to do.  The older vampire stood up from his chair, pipe still puffing out smoke, his eyes focus out the window of the chilly autumn gray skies. He takes a puff before continuing, "I want to give you some simple advice for your first date Vincent. Vampire to vampire." Vinnie practically shrunk his head down into his coat's collar.

Defiantly not what he wanted to do. . .

"That's okay pops, I got it covered-" He began as he slowly creeped his way to the front door. "The year was 1880. . ."  Vinnie bite back a groan, knowing very well that once his dad starts it's hard to stop him.  "I was simply a beginning apprentice to the one and only Dracula. Mostly paper work and long mornings. I thought I had everything cut out for me, a great job and nice home, until I realized I was missing something important when I first saw your mother wandering through the local cemetery." Mr. Stoker smiles fondly as he light strokes his black beard. "She is my first and only love as I'm sure you know. And it took me decades to ask her on a single date, I feared she might not want a simple vampire apprentice who barely knows how to turn into a bat, but alas she surprise me with a yes."  Vinnie nods, "Yeah yeah I know. And you two spent many years together, got married, had two kids, and lived happily ever after. Dad, I know the story pretty well you know."

He didn't mean to interrupt his father's tale, he just already has his nerves up through the roof and he just want to hurry for the plans.  His father turned and looked at his son right in the eyes as he spoke, "I know you do. I'm just trying to tell you that last night I was certain to give you some advice for your date, a vampire tradition my father gave me as his father gave him and his father so forth. I know you're nervous and it's perfectly natural. Just remember, be courteous. Be engaging. And above all, have a plan." Vinnie nodded. "Don't worry pops, I got it covered. Now can I go and do the date itself?" He asked the older vampire, who nodded to his please. He didn't wait any few seconds to open the front door and flying off with a snap.

This will go well, He thought to himself as he feels the wind go through his black hair. Reggie will enjoy the date I have planned for us. This is a piece of blood orange pie. Vinnie smiled as he spaces out on today's plans. Slowly, though, his brain began to swim to a memory of when he got the nerves to finally make that choice he's been walking back and forth on. . .

~   ~   ~

Vinnie taps the heels of his shoe onto the cold hard floor of the school's classroom as he watches the clock tic away, his eyes going to the clock and to the werewolf just a desk away from him.  Today was the day, Vinnie told himself throughout the hours. Today I'm going to do it.  As if proving his luck, the bell rings out around the school, signalling everyone to grab their stuff and hurry the Hell out of there for the weekend.  Vinnie stood onto his feet, catching Gil and Sid giving him a thumbs up as they run out the classroom, and looks over at Reggie who is still putting his stuff away.

The vampire took a breath in and walked his way over to the red head's desk, his feet feeling kind of heavy as he gets closer. Be cool Vinnie, just do it. "Hey Reg." His voice called out suddenly, the rest of his body slowly just going with the flow.  Reggie turned his head and smiled up at his friend. "Hey there Vinnie. You usually are gone by now, is Mr. Schneider Sir seeing you after class again?" He asked as he puts his books away in his bag. Vinnie smiles warmly, he enjoys Reggie's voice. The way his small lisp happens between the small gap of the front of his teeth.  The way his voice cracks sometimes in the right moments. Just generally how comforting it is...

The vampire quickly shook his head when he finally notices Reggie is standing up and looking at him with cocoa brown eyes that warm up Vinnie's dead chest, "No no. I just wanted to know...if...um...i-if you don't mind me asking...I uh..."  "Yes Vinnie?" Reggie pressed on. Honestly, it's like he knows what he's doing to me. Vinnie took a gulp from his dry mouth before he spoke a retry, "I just wanted to know...if...if...well...if you're free this weekend? Maybe...we could...go out?" He didn't know if he sounded needy or not but he didn't care, he finally said it!

Reggie blinked a few times before replying, "Of course we can hang out Vin. We often times do already."  "No, Reggie, I meant...go out...like a...date...?" Vinnie was so scared to look at Reggie in the face yet he has to in order to watch his reaction.  And boy was it a reaction... His cute wolf ears were perked down in a way his shyness shows, hard to tell but behind that fur his cheeks were very rosey and red, just looking at him gave Vinnie so much heat on his face he for sure thought he was going to die.

~    ~     ~

Vinnie chuckled softly when Reggie's face on that day came to mind.

Well, yeah, the reply was a day late but nevertheless he said yes.  And the day has finally came.

Vinnie soon landed at Reggie's place, a pretty big home of four stories with a even bigger yard surrounded it of 6 aches each side. He knew Reggie's family owned a big home for such a big family but he honestly wasn't expecting something so... human dream life. A white picket fence wrapping around the areas of land, green grass in perfect height, the house painted in a nice paint of soft blue with the windows having a white coat to the edges, a cute porch sticking out from the big dark brown oak made front door, and to fit so perfectly a nice little porch swing with a small coffee table.  In all honesty neither Vinnie nor Reggie been to each others' houses despite being friends for years. Always staying at the dorms the school gave them for half the week.

The vampire slowly made his way to the porch and gently pulled the rope that rings the door bell loudly it echos around him and to the forest not far from the house itself. He tripled checked in his head the plans of the date as he waits a few seconds before the door opened and Reggie's head popped into view. "Hey Vinnie." Reggie said with a smile and opened the door already for him to step out. "Hey there Reg-" Vinnie nearly chocked on his words upon seeing Reggie. He wasn't wearing anything out of his comfort zone but something Vinnie was expecting obviously... Let alone something his heart was ready for.  There standing in front of him with the shine of the afternoon sun glimmering a special effect through the tree leafs Reggie wearing a typical white button-down shirt and well ironed dress pants but wears also a well knitted beige and blood red pattern pullover sweater vest and a black Letterman jacket with a big red R stitched to his chest's right side, his hair combed in a messy side bangs style to the left side of his face. Honestly, Vinnie doesn't know if this was more cute or sexy and he was pretty scared of both.  "I-I could change if you want..." Reggie stated, snapping Vinnie out of his daze to realize he's been staring holes into the poor werewolf. "No no you're okay Reg. Just uh...caught me off guard is all. It's cool." Vinnie spoke up with his hands up in defense.

Reggie giggles some, causes Vinnie's undead heart to for sure jumble in beats like a drum.

The first stop of this little date for the two monsters was a nice little fly over the town to the date's main destination. Reggie clings to Vinnie from behind, his face so close to his their cheeks are barely touching softly, his eyes watching the town below them. "Gee Vinnie, this is beautiful." He whispered but Vinnie heard it very well, his warm breath gently dancing across Vinnie's ear, his cheeks warming up in a soft shade of pink, a smile appearing on the vampire's lips. If anything, if he had a chance to say it, Reggie was the most beautiful thing to Vinnie's eyes. Though as a sad as it had pained him he knew he would crash into something if he doesn't focus.

His eyes scanned around the area before carefully landing in front of a cafe looking place. Reggie looked around the place when he climbed down from the vampire's back as he tucked in his wings. "Um... Vinnie." Reggie mumbled softly as he dragged his feet closer to Vinnie. Vinnie let out a hum, "Yeah Reg?" "Correct me if I'm wrong but this is a human cafe is it not?" Indeed it was.  "Yeah. I figured to have a nice bite here for a change." "True it's just... don't you rather want to go to Ms. White's Diner? It's one of your favorites right?" Vinnie had to fight back the urge of going to his favorite 50's diner and share a monster shake with Reggie, he had a plan and he's sticking to it. He gently takes his paw and said, "This is just as good Reg, promise. Plus they serve your favorite here. Trust me."  Reggie looked at the place and at Vinnie, seemed to be small on numbers of humans... So it could be okay right?

The two monsters entered the cafe and walked it's way to a table right in the center. The place was nice, clean, quiet, cute, and had a nice nature aesthetic with potted plants hanging from the ceiling and the smell of coffee and tea with some sweets filling your sense of smell. "This place is nice." Reggie said, his eyes focused on every little detail around him.  The V-Man couldn't help but smile proudly, the date's going so well so far.

A waiter walks over to their table with a notepad and spoke to the two teenage monsters, "Afternoon gentlemen. What can I get you for drinks?" Vinnie opened the menu.  "I'd like a black coffee with a side of milk creamer."  The waiter nodded and looked at Reggie waiting for his answer.  The werewolf quietly looked through the menu, his eyes widening like space saucers. "O-Oh my...Um...w-water would be fine..."  The waiter wrote the orders down before hurrying to the back.  Reggie looked at Vinnie with a raised brow, "This place is expensive Vinnie. They don't even serve your favorite drinks here. And I think you need it, you look ill..."

Vinnie knew Reggie was worried, he can hear it in his voice, but he can't simply explain it... Since the night before last he hasn't had a drop of blood to nibble a sip from due to how stressed and nervous he was getting over asking Reggie out and planning out this perfect date. Black coffee was the best he could get to that bitter goodness. And if not, the creamer would do the trick.  Still, he knew he can't say all that to Reggie, not to seem not cool in front of his crush but also because he doesn't want the werewolf to feel bad or blame himself. Instead he just smiles his traditional smile and leaned back in his chair as he coats his voice with soothing calmness, "It's fine Reg. Everything fine actually. I just... had a big batch during breakfast and need the coffee here is good as I'm told. Plus, the money, don't worry. I got it covered." He finishes with a wink and another smile which caused Reggie's shoulders to calm down slightly.

After a few more seconds the waiter returned with their drinks and a notepad still in hand, "Here is your black coffee with a side of milk creamer and your glass of water sirs. May I interest you into something to eat?" Vinnie glances at the man's meaty neck and silently licked his fang out of sights, his brain wracking him inside his skull to try and not accept the urge to chomp down onto that neck and drink up. His hand quickly grabbed the coffee cup as soon as it was set and took a big gulp of it. Bitter. Not as bitter but still helps a little. He thought, feeling his nerves calm down a bit more.  He glances over at Reggie and smiles, "Why don't you order first? I'll follow after."  Reggie fixes his glasses and looked over the menu, a few times his eyes peeking at Vinnie as if asking for his help. "G-Gee...there's a lot of good options... Um..." He pondered out loud, Vinnie could see the human tapping his pen in a annoyance type manner. He bite down on his bottom lip some to fight back his new urge to range his neck.  Before the urge could happen for real, Reggie's voice rang out to Vinnie's ears, "I-I guess I can have the Pea & Carrot Soup with the Greek Salad as the side?"  "And you sir?" Vinnie had to remember how to talk before he took a quick glance at the menu before blurting out his order, "I'd like a French Onion Soup." And like before the man walked away after writing the orders down.

Vinnie noticed Reggie seemed more awkward and fidgety then his usual form.  "Everything alright Reg?" Vinnie asked, his voice truly worried. He truly is worried for Reggie. Maybe he caught that waiter's rudeness towards them because of their race? Maybe it's the fact it's clearly two boys out doing things beyond friends? The vampire's head is just about to explode over the thoughts on what could be wrong with his Reggie- My Reggie? Vinnie thought of having Reggie of his very own before... I mean it did sound nice to him but would Reggie be down to being...

Reggie softly shook his head with a mumbled, "It's nothing, really..." But Vinnie knew something's been bothering his pal. Maybe... Vinnie felt sick thinking this, Maybe he's not comfortable being on a date with me... Before he knew it the food had arrived but the two didn't seem in the mood to enjoy it... Vinnie gulped down the rest of his coffee and stared down at his dish.

Great, my nerves are all over the place now and Reggie ain't having a good time... He thought as he watched Reggie gently nibble on his soup and salad, the two barely having one or two small conversations. This date is going terrible...

The two left the cafe quietly and quickly after paying for the bill. The two were still pretty silent. Reggie broke this awkward pause in the air with a smile, "The food was pretty good Vinnie." Vinnie doesn't reply. "Vinnie..?" Suddenly, the second monster on this date let out a groan like sigh before slumping his body down a grass area in the side walk, "That stupid waiter! 50 bucks and all he had to do is make it nice!"

Reggie tilt his head at this and quietly asked, "What do you mean...?"  There was a pause when Vinnie looked away with no answer, causing it to click to the smarter of the two.  "Vinnie Stoker, did you pay a human waiter for our date?"  Vinnie sighed, "Not just paid Reggie, I paid the guy $50 to hold off any other reservations so it can be just us... I know you don't like really crowded places but that guy ruined it. I wasted 50 from my allowance just to have a guy be rude to you." Vinnie covered his face with his palms. "I'm sorry Reg...I really am..." Surprising Vinnie, Reggie grabbed his hand and pulls him up before guiding him somewhere.

"Hey Reg, where we going?" He asked, but his question fell on deaf ears as the werewolf still guided him silently.  Suddenly the vampire began to feel a new kind of nervous. Was Reggie mad? Was he going to yell at him for bribing a human? Does he know he hasn't been drinking his daily sips of blood?  He felt sick at the ideas of any of those being true and he blew this date... His one chance... And he blew it major time... There might not even be a second chance in this... "Look Reg..." Vinnie started, hanging his head low in shame. Reggie stopped him, "You didn't have to do any of that Vinnie. I would be perfectly fine going to any place we usual go."  Vinnie did not want this date to be ruined. He did not want his friendship to be tainted. All Vinnie wanted to do was do what he planned, even if it was sudden...

"I like you Reggie!"

Reggie stopped suddenly and whipped his head around so fast he must've felt dizzy.  No turning back now huh? Vinnie thought, taking a deep breath in, "I've always liked you Reg... And I mean really like you... Like...Like... I always get happy in the mornings because I get a chance to be near you at school, it's the only reason why I don't ditch as often. And when you're not there I feel sad...so sad I feel sick... I often re-read the messages we send back and forth after school because I miss talking to you that much... A-And that time when I was running for School President and you were helping me... Reggie, I felt so happy just being around you...seeing you so happy at what you were doing... I know this isn't stuff you want to hear instead of a apology...but I swear to you it's truer then true Reggie... I really like you... I've liked you for so long...I don't know when but I know when I figured it out... when you were fallin from the sky and I was running to you... All that's been runnin' around my head was "I can't let him go"... Reggie... you matter to me so much the idea of you not here with me is killing me..."

Vinnie was so scared to look up at his friend, scared he made it worst... "I just...I know this date ended up bad... but I-" Vinnie's words were cut short when he lifted his head to finally face his nerves, quickly his lips were covered by the soft fur of Reggie's lips.  The teen vampire felt his undead heart beat for miles and miles as every second slowly passes by between them, his eyes widen more then the usual wide but slowly his body began to melt by the warmth of Reggie's lips and they slowly blinked to a close while his lips push pressure back into the kiss.

The kiss lasted about a extra minute before the two pulled away, Vinnie's ears catching a soft small puppy like whine coming from deep back within Reggie's neck. "You like my lips that much Reg?" Vinne asked with a tease in his voice, smiling more when see that same expression of bashfulness Vinnie witness when he asked Reggie out in the first place. "Okay, I'm sorry... does...this mean you like me too...?" He asked, hopeful of his words being a positive. Reggie giggles softly, "Of course it means I like you Vinnie... Why else would I agree to go on a date and kiss you?" Vinnie felt stupid asking such a obvious question.  "And...why else would I do this?" After Reggie said that, he guided Vinnie again towards a secret spot. A nice little isolated hill spot overlooking the entire town and beach. Reggie...planned this? The vampire looked at Reggie in disbelief, now noticing the blush fur on his cheeks. "I... I like you too Vinnie... A lot... I've always had felt it too but that day when you risked everything just for me was when I realize it was more then a simple crush... And I wanted to show you how I felt since then...but I was too chicken to even bring it up in conversation... So, when you asked me out, I was nervous that I might miss my shot...so..." "So you ended up setting this up?"  Reggie nodded some, his bangs sweeping over his warm brown eyes in a cute shy manner.

Vinnie smiles softly and wrapped his arms around Reggie's frame, his lips lightly touching a small peck on his cheek. Sure, this wasn't the date I had planned... Reggie giggles and gently sat on the grass, Vinnie following after. The sun was just about going darker as the stars began to appear above them like candles they used to have lit from their old fears of the unknown... Vinnie could help but smile when seeing Reggie's happy face when he cuddles into him.  But I honestly couldn't ask for anything better.

[ladecena]

I Love You ❤️

           Strong wind makes her long wavy black hair go in different direction, the blazing sun that shines through her beautiful face making her eyes brighter than anything you will ever see, and when the rain showers her at times where she wants to be alone actually made her happy and alive again it’s like washing all her worries, pain and miseries and making them a lesson that thought her to be strong and beautiful on her own.

           Walking a long road on a sunny day is refreshing wearing a comfy shirt, jeans and some nice comfortable shoes unlike others who prefer dresses and high heels, having my hair braided left and right. The pathway I’m walking right now is the same pathway me and my friends always walk to, nothing changes there are still benches to sit to when you are tired the street food corner that is still within sight if you sit in one of the benches. laughing with them is one of the memories I have the most.

           “where already on our second year and we are also together in the same class right?” her friend asked her, they were around 14 years old and on their second year of high school around this time they are still careless, innocent and pure to know the difficulties the world have.

           Walking again on the never-ending corridor of her alma mater, the table they always passed by after greeting the kind guard who where always sitting there, the small basketball court that serves as a temporary court for every student, the canteen monitored by hot-tempered but still always smiling lady’s behind the counter and also the giant tree on the middle where you can eat and also a hangout place together with her friends because of the concrete table and benches.

           “Kim?” a manly voice calls out that momentarily cut-off her being nostalgic and reminiscence all the emotions that she let out in this place

           “Hi, Pastor? I’m glad to see you again” she said smiling at the now grey haired but still strong and resilient looking man who show and guide them all through their walk on the path that they choose.

           “Hello Kim, I see you haven’t really change, lets meet the principal?” she nods and let him walk ahead of her. Nothing really changes in this campus, Kim taught to herself all the stairs, railings, door rooms, and the paints also remains.

           Kim graduated on a nice and outstanding university she even reached her dreams. Having work to support her parents and that work is a part of what she dreamed to be that’s why she was being encouraged to give inspiration to the students who are currently attending her alma mater.

           “Ma’am Carina said there is someone who would accompany me on the day” she’s thinking about who it would be the principal is talking about. Kim was just wearing simple clothes she was comfortable with because it’s just a meeting. Going down to the same staircase she walked by earlier and onto the last step she bumps into someone.

           “Kim?” a voice she hardly hears after graduating on her high school days makes her eyes wider and urge her to look at the male who owns the usual comforting voice it’s warm and inviting, and she loves it the most. Looking up at him he doesn’t seems to change at all he is much taller just right for her to hear his heartbeat every time she would have the chance to lean on his wide shoulder, to hug her and can comfort her anytime. His Brown eyes are firm, steady and prepared to embrace Kim when she falls to take care of her and warm her with love. Smiling at her he really doesn’t change.

           “Paul!” Kim exclaimed her excitement is noticeable “how are you?” she added

           “I’m great, I’ve become who I want to be” he says still smiling at her “how about you?”

           “Still the same, but I also reach the one who I want to be am” Kim says smiling and looking up on him. “So, you are the one ma’am Carina was talking about I guess?”

           “Oh! So, you’re going to be a speaker also? That’s great!”

           Paul ask Kim if she have time and invited her to eat out also for them to have a little chat about what happened in their separate lives after graduating. So, Kim decided to sit on one of the benches in the new canteen that was made before they graduated because Paul is having a meeting with ma’am Carina like she did earlier.

           Blushing and talking to herself.

           “What did you just do!” she scream silently to herself. Ah! It is still refreshing to sit here, it’s a shame we didn’t get to eat and sit here for a long time.

           “Kim!? You’re also late? That’s new” Pamela one of her friend who has a perfect attendance on being late  

             “Yeah! I think my alarm broke” Kim sadly said

             Laughing silently “That’s alright, at least you get to see your crush first thing in the morning. Look!” Pamela teases her while patting her back

              Putting her chin on her hand she whispers “In front of him and even I just see a glimpse of him I’m always blushing, I’m such a Wimp”

 Taking a glance of the guy sitting two table from us but still I know who, I blush again. He looks like he wakes up late and because he lives far away, I think the traffic got him.

             “Kim! Come on I’m finished talking with ma’am” slowly walking to me his smile made me broke from remembering from past. “we should go now?” he asks sitting beside me.

           “Yes! Sure, Let’s go?” walking out and passing the things where I remember most of my happy, sad, exciting, and scarry moments of my life, I’m sure I’ll come back again.

           “You’re driving a car? That’s cool” I say while blushing Paul replied a “Yup” and open the passengers sit for me. I do also have a car but I’m glad I didn’t bring it here and just walk if ever I wouldn’t have a chance to see him this handsome.

           A beautiful place where we sit under a large and fertile tree grasses that you’ll feel on your heel there is also a stone passage you can walk, and yellow lights are spread around the place so when it’s already dark you can still be able to see the one you were with. Sitting across each other is a better way for the two of us to have a clear talk, and its way better for me if we are across each other, I can stealth a look and focus on him.

           “The place is really beautiful, where’d you know this place?” I ask smiling mischievously at him

           “Yeah? Thanks too google” Paul says making the two of us laugh, internet and social media really makes living easier and more convenient for everyone.

           “So, you’re already a Pilot?” I ask him after we calmed down and for us to have a conversation while waiting for the food

           “Unfortunately, but still I’m late at finishing my course” he said staring at me after he look at the stars who are present tonight

           “For 2 years, right? I admire you for continuing your studies. Well, you’re one of the brightest students in our batch” I said to him while also admiring him, he doesn’t really change at all

           “Your still the same, always giving me compliments.” He smiles at me that made me also smile at him.

           As our dinner arrives which is a creamy flavor white sauce pasta that tingle my taste buds and just perfectly creamy that I like, stake that is juicy, tender, and loaded with flavor and lastly a wine that is bright and has a youthful color that perfectly match for Paul while I choose to drink cucumber juice with lemon that I love the most.

           Looks like we made it

           Look how far we’ve come, my baby

             This place we are eating have a live Band not the rock one but the calming one that made this place even more perfect. Most of the guest who where also eating are slowly standing walking on the middle stage part to dance, there are married, teens which are only friends but also couples.

           We might a took the long way

           We knew we’d get there someday

           “Can I have this dance?” walking over me and offering his hands to me looking up at him and placing my hand on his hand and walking through to get on to the center his big, warm and comforting hand guide me all trough our walk

           They said, “I bet they’ll never make it”

But just look at us holding on

We’re still together, still going strong

 “I’m thinking are you always going to be my first dance?” I ask teasing him

He nods his head smile at me and says, “can’t I?” squinting my eyes I placed my hands on his neck and he pulls me close enough for the both of us and for the sake of my heart, I guess?

           You’re still the one I run to

The one that I belong to

You’re still the one I want for life

             He places both his hands on my waist “The last time I held you like this you’re waist still have some fats, but now look at you, you really did change” he says to me I don’t know if his mocking me or complimenting me

You’re still the one that I love

The only one I dream of

You’re still the one I kiss goodnight

           “I’ll take that as a compliment” and we laugh. Like we are young again still in our teenage year full of life, carelessness, innocence and being pure to have any Idea that we would become like this one day.

           I’m so glad we made it

Look how far we’ve come, my baby

 Our day ended with him bringing me home wishing for us to meet again, and for us to convey what we want to say to the current young ones our Alma Mater are protecting and guiding through their journey as an individual.

Casual short sleeve blue summer dress just above her knees and wearing a glass looking 2-inch ankle strap heals finish with a simple make-up and a single half side braided hair Kim walked down on the stage after she finished delivering her encouragement and for Paul to deliver his massage as Paul where speaking a calm and refreshing wind blows making him and her smiling admiringly at each other.

Kim sees again the younger version of herself and Paul that are on the process of making what they are together now has been fulfilled, how the way they see, cherished and care for each other.  

Kim sees the struggles, hardship, and obstacle that they experienced and experiencing up until now. Most especially appearing before her eyes how they manage to overcome their struggles, surpass all the hardship and be successful through all the obstacle laid out for them.

“I hope that all of you even though you struggle like Kim and stop studying for a while like me still dreams and achieve what we both of us have and will just be making.” Paul ends his message smiling at Kim.

Walking again up on the stage with Paul helping Kim by holding her hands. The event speaker congratulates all the student and give acknowledgements to both Paul and Kim.

Kim trusts Paul and Paul believes to Kim, he completes her the most and she fill’s him love that he believes no one could ever give to him. Paul is her longtime crush, and he loves Kim endlessly.

“Once again let’s give our thanks’ to Mr. and Mrs. Cruz for sharing such a wonderful and inspiring message”

- YellowStrawberry💛

June 13, 2021

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Twelve: Igor Karkaroff

A/N: This is the twelfth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 2709

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creators

The sun rose in the horizon marking another weekend at Hogwarts. Saturdays were always bittersweet for Aria as she often found herself feeling alone without the pleasure of teaching to keep herself occupied. The majority of students usually spent the weekends at Hogsmeade and with the current situation of Severus not speaking to her, the castle felt lonelier still. Of course, she enjoyed her afternoon tea with Minerva and her short visits with Hagrid but other than that Miss Dumbledore found herself with nothing more to do than roam the grounds aimlessly. Though a lonely task, Aria loved discovering places she had never been before, and something could be said of the small moments of solitude she relished in.

On this particular Saturday Aria found herself with evening plans to occupy her nightly boredom, yet the day seemed long and there was much time to fill before leaving for Hogsmeade.

Looking out the castle window onto the vast land surrounding the building, a deep sigh escaped the woman's perfectly painted lips. Rain battered down the window, drenching and water logging the grassland that she had previously wished to explore. Today's going to be a long day. Aria thought to herself, turning away from the window and disappearing back into the castle.

After an hour of fidgeting and pretending to read in the arm chair of her quarters, Aria came to the conclusion she was not going to settle. The room was too cold, to dull and too empty to stay in any longer. Grabbing a sketchbook and quill the young professor made her way to the great hall. The sound of student's laughter as she approached the halls was music to her ears. Though not quite as full as it was at meal times the room was filled with students of all ages from both Hogwarts and the visiting schools. A small group of Professors were scattered around the room, most on duty, or else they would have chosen to spend their Saturdays elsewhere.

"Professor Karkaroff." Aria forced a smile. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of being formally introduced."

"Professor Karkaroff." Aria forced a smile. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of being formally introduced."

"Professor Karkaroff." Aria forced a smile. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of being formally introduced."

"You are correct, my dear, we have not. Though I am very aware of who you are." He smirked, shifting to the edge of his seat to get closer to the young woman.

"You do?" She questioned, putting a little bit more space between herself and the Headmaster.

"Of course!" He exclaimed. "Everyone has heard the rumours of Albus Dumbledore's granddaughter. But to see you in the flesh? Well that is a pleasure indeed!" He cackled, leaning further over her shoulder.

"I'm glad you think so, professor." Aria laughed nervously.

"Igor, please." He corrected, resting a heavily calloused hand on her arm.

"Is there anything I can do for you... Igor?... Now that we have been properly introduced." The potions apprentice spoke gingerly. Something about this man had always seemed off to her, and from the interaction she witnessed with Severus her suspicions only worsened.

"I have been watching you for a while." Igor lowered his voice and leaned in closer. "I have noticed you are close with Professor Snape, am I correct?"

The pair looked up to the Potions Master, who paid no interest in their conversation and continued to circle the students intimidatingly.

"I wouldn't say we are close, Professor Karkaroff, we are colleagues nothing more.  And at the moment I'd say he pretty much despises me. If you knew Professor Snape, you'd know he doesn't like anyone very much at all." Aria puffed.

"You may not realise this, Miss Dumbledore, but I am very well acquainted with your Potions Master and I know what kind of man he is. Which brings me to why I am here talking to you. In all the years I have known Severus, no one has persuaded him to allow them to get close to him. I must know how you accomplished it!"

"Look, Prof- Igor. I assure you, you have gotten the wrong end of the stick, Severus is my mentor, we have to work closely, it's his job to train me."

"I have seen the two of you, every night you spend together-"

"Marking papers" Aria interrupted. Igor continued nonetheless.

"Despite what you may have convinced yourself Miss Dumbledore. Severus has no obligation to spend time with you out with teaching hours. Yet he does. Every. Single. Night. Ask yourself this, Aria; Why?"

Aria made to reply, once again telling Karkaroff he had gotten it all wrong. However, it was then they noticed the bat like professor spin on his heel and begin walking in their direction.

"What do you know about his past?" Igor pushed, rushing to get an answer quickly. "What do you know about his life outside Hogwarts?"

Aria sat; mouth agape, unable to process the questions he was asking. Her head was swarmed with thoughts and questions of her own that she needed answers to, but knew she would never get.

It was then Snape appeared behind Karkaroff, avoiding eye contact with Aria at all costs.

"Getting acquainted with my apprentice, were we Igor?" Snape spat.

"Simply introducing myself to a beautiful young witch, I wished to get to know." His mouth curling into a fox-like smile as he turned to face Severus Snape. A strong hand slammed itself onto Igor's shoulder, the grip to tight Snape's knuckles begun to whiten.

"A word, Igor. In my office. Now." He seethed through gritted teeth.

As the two men disappeared without explanation, Aria became unable to focus on what she had been doing before she was abruptly interrupted. Making a move to return to her chambers, Aria's eyes flickered to her page. She had been in such a trance she had hardly noticed the focus of her drawing quickly forming into the silhouette of the potions master as he walked among the blurred tables of students. A blush immediately rising to her cheeks it became clear to her that there was no way Severus would not have seen it. She simply prayed he would not bring it up again.

*

Aria's heart pounded in time with the click of her heels against the castle's cold stone floors as she made her way to the great hall for the second time today. She had changed in preparation for her date... well her "drinks" with Alexander, and she was nervous about how her new look would be received from the students and staff. She always tried to look professional around Hogwarts and dressed more reserved than she otherwise would but for once she felt like getting a little dressed up and feeling her age for the occasion.

As she further approached the hall, a layer of goosebumps formed on Aria's arms and a crimson blush rose to her cheeks. She regretted every decision she had ever made that led up to this moment as a feeling of dread grew in her stomach while she made her way to walk through the doors of the Great Hall. Her long back cloak successfully masked the majority of her clothing to the students but from face on it was impossible to miss her exposed body as she sashayed her way down the hall.

Severus stopped eating mid forkful as a blur of red making its way through the hall caught his eye. The clicking of Aria's heels echoed through the hall and she picked up the pace, hiding her face in her masses of hair. Severus' jaw dropped as his eyes travelled down her body. The silky red material clung tightly to her shapely body, exposing a small portion of her waist where her skirt and bralet separated. For the first time since their meeting it occurred to Severus that he had never really properly looked at Aria's body as she was constantly wearing oversized shirts and blouses tucked into a flowing floor length skirt which hid the curvature of her hips, though maintained her slim silhouette. Her long legs seemed to go on forever as she marched her way towards the head table and Snape found it impossible to pull his eyes away.

"Like what you see eh, Severus?" Karkaroff chuckled, nudging Severus' arm causing him to break from his trance.

"I advise you watch what you're insinuating there, Igor." Immediately the potions masters face turned sour, his jaw clenching furiously.

"How do you think Albus would react if he found out how you think about his granddaughter?"

"I do not think of her in any type of way." Snape insisted but could not help turning an eye in Dumbledore's direction.

Students continued to pour in behind Aria as she made her way up to the table, taking the only remaining seat between Minerva and Igor Karkaroff. Knowing the whole of the staff table had been staring at her the whole way up she was completely mortified by this point and just wanted to eat her meal then leave without speaking to anyone.

"You looking stunning, my dear, don't hide yourself away, own it!" Minerva leaned into her, whispering as she took a swig of her drink.

"I quite agree with you there, Minerva." Karkaroff chimed in, inching closer to a very embarrassed Aria Dumbledore. "She looks absolutely incredible. May I ask what the occasion is?"

"Nothing really." She shrugged. "I'm just heading to the Three Broomsticks after dinner for a few drinks with a friend."

Severus couldn't help but scoff at the woman's comment, catching the attention of his three colleagues.

"Something to say, Snape?" Aria retorted, finally finding her confidence.

Snape found it hard to even look the woman in the eye let alone respond, he simply let out a small huff and went back to his meal, though he couldn't help but listen in on Aria and karkaroff for the rest of the meal.

Karkaroff was once again whispering to Aria in hushed tones as he had caught them doing before earlier in the day, though this time he was a lot more pre-occupied by Aria's exposed cleavage and thigh which he could not keep his hands off. The professor hung over Aria, whispering closely into her ear so that no one around might hear anything he was saying. Thankfully, Miss Dumbledore didn't seem to be too interested in what Igor had to say. Her responses consisted of a few shakes of the head and the occasional one-word response, however, not once did Severus notice her complain about Karkaroff's hand placement or show any discomfort towards the man. The pair continued like this for the remainder of the feast, meanwhile Snape found it hard to focus on his meal for the thoughts that refused to leave his head turned the food bitter in his mouth.

As the feast came to an end and the children poured out of the great hall and back to their dorms, Severus let himself get distracted for a second and before he realised both Aria and Igor were nowhere to be seen.

"Looking for someone, Severus?" Minerva chimed in, noticing Snape looking around suspiciously.

"Not at all, Minerva. I was simply observing the rudeness of our shared colleague and one of our visitors. They have left rather abruptly, don't you agree? What do you suppose those two are up to anyway?" Snape questioned.

"There's no need to be jealous, Severus. I don't really think Igor is Aria's type. Besides if I'm not mistaken, I may have heard your name being mentioned once or twice, maybe Igor is just as jealous of you as you are of him." She replied coyly, a mischievous grin plastered across her face.

"Don't play games Minerva, it doesn't suit you." The potions master snapped, getting up from the table.

*

Almost instantly as the feast reached its end Karkaroff pulled Aria away from the table and out into the corridor.

"Listen, Igor, unless you actually want to tell me what this is all about, I don't want to hear anymore of it." Aria groaned as they closed the door behind them.

"I need answers and you know him best, what has he been telling you?" Igor panted, throwing Aria against the wall and closing the gap between them.

"He's not told me anything, I don't know what you're on about. Honestly, were not as close as you seem to think, in fact, he practically can't stand me!"

"Mmmm maybe you're right." Karkaroff hummed, looking her up and down. "Maybe he hasn't told you. But he's definitely interested in you, I've seen the way he looks at you."

"You don't know him; he doesn't think like that." Aria shook her head.

"I know him more than you do, it seems." Igor leaned in, planting a hand on the wall beside Aria's head, so close to her she could feel his hot breath on her chest. "Tell me. What exactly do you know of his past?" He whispered into her ear.

It suddenly occurred to Aria that she did know nothing of the man's past. Besides what she had witnessed Aria knew nothing about Snape's life. What did Karkaroff know that she didn't? And who exactly was Severus Snape?

Almost on cue the door slammed open to reveal the man in question. Almost in shock he paused when he saw the pair in such close proximity. Rocking on the balls of his feet it was clear Severus' was deciding whether to speak or walk on. After letting out a scoff and a mutter of disgust the potions master chose the latter and made his way down the corridor.

"Severus." Aria called as she pushed Karkaroff off of her. The potions master failed to recognise her cry and continued to walk on. Refusing to be ignored Aria hastily chased after him, struggling to keep up with his pace in her heels.

Panting as she reached him, Miss Dumbledore wrapped her hand around the professor's bicep, demanding that he acknowledge her.

"Severus, I have to speak to you." She said, attempting to hide the fact she was slightly gasping for air.

Snape pulled away from her grasp the second her hand touched his arm, almost flinching at the woman's touch.

"Don't you have somewhere to be." He snapped, once again refusing to look her in the eye.

"This is more important. It's about Karkaroff." She pleaded, hoping this would make him stay.

"I see the two of you have gotten acquainted rather well today. However, who you chose to mingle with is not my concern. I have no interest in being any part of whatever games you are playing with these men."

"What?" Aria huffed confused, however with a shake of her head she chose to ignore this comment and move on. "This is your concern Severus. Can you please forget about why you're mad at me for two minutes and listen."

Severus slowly came to meet the young woman's gaze, getting lost in her eyes for second or two, before he took a glance at his watch and made a move to walk away.

"You're going to be late for your date, Miss Dumbledore." He informed stoically as he rounded the corner disappearing from her sight.

Defeated Aria ran a hand through her hair, but realised the potion's master was right and she had to get to Hogsmeade.

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel

@lizlil

[ravens-words]

Prelude to Light, Part 4 of 6

Five times Michael watched, and pined away after, Alex interacting with others' kids and the one time it was their kid.

On AO3

AN: Funny story, I may or may not have forgotten to post this chapter three days ago. So, sorry for the delay!

Also, I'm so so nervous about this chapter.

....

"Knock knock!"

Isobel poked her head in and Michael grinned, nervousness forgotten. His smile broadened when Max followed her in, both of them smiling widely at him. 

He spread his arms to the side. "How do I look?"

"You look great, Michael," Isobel said, voice thick with tears. She was clearly trying very hard not to cry, and Max, when Michael chanced a look at him, wasn't faring any better. 

Isobel pulled him into a tight hug, then patted his cheek with a watery smile and stepped aside. Max took her place, pulling him into a bear hug. 

"I'm so proud of you," Max whispered into his ear. "And I am so happy for you, Michael."

Michael sniffled. "Thank you. Now get off me, you big lug," he whined playfully.

Max pulled back and rolled his eyes, shoving Michael gently.

"We'll see you out there," Max said with a grin. His brother put an arm around their sister's shoulder and steered her out of the room.

Michael took a deep breath, blew it out slowly and tried to contain the mess of emotions he was feeling.

He smoothed a hand down his suit jacket, straightening out imaginary wrinkles. 

"Michael?"

"Liz?" 

His sister-in-law came in and closed the door behind her gently. She had her heels in one hand, and the other one was resting on her prominent baby bump. When she turned around, she was smiling. It only took a few seconds for her to tear up and Michael chuckled and went over to hug her. 

She squeezed him within an inch of his life, and when she let him go, she smoothed a hand down his shoulders to his arms. "Look at you!" She exclaimed tearfully. "You look so handsome, Mikey."

"It's just a suit," he teased her gently. "You've seen me wear a suit before, Lizzy."

She swatted his arm and huffed when her phone buzzed in her hand. She muttered a few curses in Spanish. Michael rested his hand on her belly and frowned in mock disapproval. "Little ears, Liz."

She rolled her eyes. "Your brother is driving me insane." She took his hand and walked them both over to the chairs in the corner of the room. She sat down, and put her feet up on his thighs. "He keeps telling me to rest. Do you know what we fought about this morning?"

He couldn't keep an amused smile off his face. "What?"

"Heels. We fought about heels, Michael." She huffed.

"Why?"

"He didn't want me to wear them because, apparently they're bad for my back."

Michael looked pointedly at said heels, which she'd abandoned by the door, and then at her with a pointed lift of his eyebrows. 

She shrugged sheepishly. "They're so pretty! And who knows when I'll be able to wear them again."

He laughed and she chuckled along with him, hand rubbing absentmindedly at her belly. "How are you feeling?"

Their eyes locked and he realized with a jolt that she'd been distracting him, and that it had worked. 

"Excited." She raised an eyebrow and he deflated. "Nervous, terrified" he admitted, a little ashamed.

She settled her legs on the floor and leaned, a little awkwardly, to hold his hand with her smaller ones. "You know, I was so nervous before my wedding, I was nearly vibrating out of my skin."

He let out a breath. "Yeah?"

She smiled, her nose crinkled, and Michael couldn't help but smile too. "Oh yeah, but the minute you see him, it'll all go away."

He slid closer and hugged her, albeit awkwardly considering their positions.

Her phone rang and she smiled, exasperated and fond in equal measures. "Hi, babe," she answered. "I'm resting my feet like you told me to," she protested, then laughed at whatever Max said in reply. She stood up with a groan. "I'm fine, Max! I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

When she was at the door, she opened it, stepped out and then came back in. "Oh, and Mikey?" She smirked. "You look good."

He laughed. "Get out of here!"

.

This is the first day of my life

Swear I was born right in the doorway

I went out in the rain, suddenly everything changed

They're spreading blankets on the beach

Michael had Alex's hand in his, while the other was on his shoulder. It was a bit hard to dance slow to this song, but they didn't care, and they made it work somehow. 

Yours was the first face that I saw

I think I was blind before I met you

And I don't know where I am, I don't know where I've been

But I know where I want to go

"I love this song," Alex told him with a grin.

"And thank god for that." Michael leaned in close, the beginning of a teasing grin appearing on his face. "If you hadn't, we'd probably still be arguing over which song to dance to."

Alex huffed. "You didn't like any of my suggestions either, you know."

Michael chuckled and placed a chaste kiss on Alex's lips, then his cheek. He felt him smile and his own smile widened. 

So if you wanna be with me

With these things there's no telling

We just have to wait and see

But I'd rather be working for a paycheck

Than waiting to win the lottery, ah-ha, mm-hmm

Besides, maybe this time is different

I mean, I really think you like me

The song ended, and they stayed in each other's arms, swaying slowly and lost in each other's arms. 

Michael felt small hands push at his legs and when he looked down, he saw their four year old niece poking his leg insistently. He and Alex separated and crouched down to her level. She ignored Michael in favor of snuggling into Alex's arms, and his husband- Michael was sure he was never getting tired of saying that- sent him a smug smile from over Gemma's head. They stood up slowly and Michael put a subtle hand on Alex's back, just in case he needed a bit of support.

The second they were both standing, she held her hands up to Alex and said, "I wanna dance now," with all the authority her three feet tall body could muster. 

Michael stifled a laugh and watched adoringly as Alex picked up the little girl with an exaggerated groan. 

Michael stroked a hand down her hair, though he made sure not to mess it up, and smiled when she glanced at him. "Hey, Gem, can I dance with you?"

"No," she said decisively.

Michael clutched his chest in mild hurt and pouted. Gemma huffed and patted his cheek. "It's okay, uncle Michael; don't be sad. I'll dance with you, too." He gave the laughing Alex a smug smile and made to take her out of his arms, but the little girl pushed his hand away. He spluttered and watched her lay her head on Alex's shoulder. The other man shrugged, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Michael huffed and stepped aside, watched Alex hug the little girl close and whisper something to her that made her giggle. He looked around, and when he spotted the water bottle at the nearest table, he realized how thirsty he was. He went to grab it, but then he was intercepted by his sister. "Let's dance," she said as she dragged him back to the dance floor. 

Michael groaned. "Now I know where Gemma gets it from," he muttered, as he allowed her to tow him behind her.

The song playing was slow, and it wasn't one he recognized. Alex was now twirling a giggling Gemma, who seemed to be having the time of her life. 

"Pigs are flying, aren't they, Michael?"

"Hmm," he said, but a second later the words registered and he tore his eyes away from the adorable sight of his husband and his niece dancing. "Cute," he told her, rolling his eyes.

"I'd be offended by you ignoring me, but I know exactly what it's like to see the guy you love with kids," she sympathized, a shit-eating grin on her face. Michael definitely did not blush, but he did roll his eyes. "It does things to ya."

"Shut up."

She suddenly laughed, and when he followed her line of sight, he joined her. Gemma seemed to be teaching Alex a dance, albeit clumsily, and his husband was definitely stifling a laugh as he tried to imitate her moves.

"Aw, she's such a spaz," she said fondly. 

Michael shook his head at her and laughed. Greg came over to them, their two month old baby sleeping in one arm and wrapped the other around Isobel. She smiled and leaned back into his embrace, closing her eyes when he kissed her cheek. Michael smiled, thankful beyond measure that she'd found someone who loved her like she deserved.

The beginning notes of a familiar song replaced the slow one, and Michael grinned when Liz, Rosa and Maria came rushing onto the dance floor, dragging a reluctant Max and an amused Kyle with them. The nine of them, plus Gemma, started jumping around and dancing like kids to the cheerful notes of Mrs' Potter's Lullaby. 

Alex, who had somehow been able to learn Gem's dance, was dancing with the little girl, both of them laughing so hard he was surprised they were still standing.

Michael stopped dancing altogether and just stared at his husband.  Alex's tie, along with his suit jacket, had been abandoned on some chair in the room, his sleeves were rolled up till his elbows, and his hair was disheveled in a way that no one else could pull off. Smiling and laughing, Michael could safely say he'd never seen him so happy as he was now. 

He made his way to him, and saw Gemma hug Alex's legs. She looked up at him with a look of pure adoration, and he returned it tenfold. 

He couldn't help but picture him like that with their own kids. His heart ached for it; for the possibility of having their own little family someday in the future. 

"Hey," Alex called out to him over the music, hand extended towards him and fingers wiggling impatiently to have his own wrapped around them. He pulled him close and pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to his cheek, then carded his hand through Michael's hair. 

Michael smiled and leaned in, kissing him tenderly and leaning his forehead oh his husband's temple. "I love you so much, Alex."

"I love you, too."

Michael leaned his head on Alex's shoulder, closed his eyes, and smiled. He'd just married the love of his life, he was surrounded by their family, and he was truly happy.

For now, it was way more than enough.

[theheavenlymoon]

I totally did this out of order, so let’s try this again!

I would like you to meet Uzuki Hanako! (うづき- Uzuki はなこ- Hanako)

(My first introduction was a hot mess, so I wanted re edit that one and put up this one instead!)

(I can’t draw for crap so I’m using picrew.)

This will basically be me talking about her rather than all the fandoms she’s in. I’m gonna be making post about her and the fandoms later, but for now it’s all about her!

First Name: Hanako

Last Name: Uzuki

Gender: Female

Race: Demigod

Age: ??? (Depending on the fandom, her age changes)

Birthday: December 27

Zodiac: Capricorn

Height: 6’3.3

Sexuality: Bisexual

JP CV: Ami Koshimizu

ENG CV: Amanda Céline Miller

FRENCH CV: Indila

(Couldn’t find a Greek CV 😔)

Nicknames: Shachi-chan (Floyd), Child of Hearth (Malleus), Ms.Herbivore (Leona), Princess, Wifey (Gojo)

Favorite food: Cheesecake, literally anything sweet

Least favorite food: Hummus, mushrooms, candy, and beans

Likes: family/friends, cooking, singing really loud to her music, working out, making clothes, nail polish, memes/vines, rain/cloudy weather, animals, purple, doing anything around the house, video games, anime, fictional books, roughhousing, and day dreaming about her crush/significant other

Dislikes: Fights between friends and family, Candy, crying in front of people, and bookshelves

Since I can’t draw I have to use picrew, but sadly some of the makers that I find have limited options so allow me to go into detail about her looks. (I’ll probably make another post about her abilities later)

Hanako has bright gold eyes and long lavender hair that goes all the way down to her mid thigh. She has two beauty marks, one under her right eye and one on the left side of her lip. Her signature hair style is space buns with the rest of her hair down in the back. Like I’ve said before, I can’t draw so I’m using characters I know as reference! This is what her body looks like.

(^ This is Flare, a character from fairy tail! I recommend watching it if you have time. Fairy tail is a very long series, but it’s really good!)

(I’m pretty sure you can look at almost all the women in Fairy tail and get the idea.)

Obviously I know that Hestia doesn’t have any demigod kids but demigods don’t have to be born the normal way. Hanako was born from fire and was given to her father. With that being said, when Hana was first claimed she was given a fire place poker but traded it in for a sword so she it could help control her pyrokinesis. (Her sword is disguised as a charm bracelet!)

As for her sword...

Hana’s sword helps her control her pyrokinesis a little better and it’s fun to try and see who can pick it up. Her sword can reach up to about 2000°F (1093°C). She has a few special moves but those are for another time.

Although Hana acts like her mom in some moments, she met Apollo and Hermes when she was quite young and those two have had a big impression on her personality. One moment she giving motherly advice, and the next moment she screaming vines across the room.

Random facts about Hanako 🌸✨

Since Hana means flower I use cherry blossoms and lavender to represent her.

Has a huge soft spot for children!

Hanako is super understanding and open. Wanna try something new? She’ll come with you, so you aren’t lonely and scared. Skydiving? What time are we leaving? Want to be left alone? Call her if you need something! Wanna try working out? She’ll be your personal trainer! Feeling down? She’s coming over with movies and snacks! Can’t make it to game night? It’s alright just be safe with whatever your doing!

Once Hanako falls, she falls hard.(Romantically speaking) She is a SIMP. She’ll wear the most giddiest smile after talking with them. Probably screamed in her pillows at least a few times. “They make my heart beat so fast, and they make me feel like the happiest girl in the world!!” - Hanako.

Attempts her best not to be obvious about her crush, and for the most part it works. Until anything other than platonic stuff comes up. Her face is gonna turn crimson if ANYONE mentions her crush in not so platonic ways, gods forbid anything even more intimate. Children of Hestia are so shy when the idea of sexual things is even bought up that they blush deeply and cannot articulate any coherent words, and any fire nearby also turns crimson as if it were blushing like the child of Hestia. This shyness is amplified if they are around their crush.

Gets kind of anxious when she’s beside a bookshelf.

She’s a smart ass. It’s gotten to the point where she does it automatically. It doesn’t even have time to process, it just comes out.

Hana is actually really good at acting and singing. She was in a few commercials and videos when she was younger but only as background characters.

Hana is amazing with kids. She grew up with 3 little brothers before she was moved into the orphanage, which meant even more kids to watch over. (she takes her big sister role very seriously)

Since she was born from fire, she can raise her body temperature up if she wanted too, and she rarely gets hot or cold. Heat based attack have no effect on her. Hana’s hugs feel like a warm blanket wrapped around you while sitting next to a fireplace, all in all just really comforting

Hana grew up around a lot of guys and so she calls everyone ‘bro’ and ‘dude’ a lot. She has a few friends who are girls but most of them are guys. That being said, she grew up rough housing and yelling.

Hana also comes from a very affectionate family. (Hugs, kisses, feeding food to each other, smashing food into someone’s face, etc.) So it’s not uncommon to see Hana tackle all of her friends into hugs and kisses.(platonically)

Hana also likes to tease a lot (curtsy of Hermes) so don’t be surprised when she tease about you burning food.

Is super flexible. I’m talking like, Mitsuri flexible. Her friends have at least saw her in the scorpion pose a few times. The more flexible she is, the easier it is to move in battle.

The woman is a tree. I’m pretty sure all of her lovers (with the exception of Gojo) are shorter than her.

She can not, for the life of her, wear heels. Anything above a 3 inch that isn’t thick, would make her snap an ankle. Besides she’s already tall enough

In terms of anger, Hana has the patience of a saint. She still gets annoyed here and there, but very rarely does she get genuinely angry. On the rare occasion that she is angry, she gets pretty violent. Veins showing from her forehead, her body temperature spikes, and she wears one of the most nastiest glare ever. (from what she’s been told) Only a select few have seen her mad.

When thrown into a new situation (or a new world-) that isn’t familiar, Hana will come off a bit sarcastic (more than usual) and aloof. She wants to get a feel for her surroundings before she can actually be herself. Give her some time to come around and she’ll be back to hyper and happy.

Hana has a bunch of hobbies. She plays volleyball and is known as the queen of the court. She loves to paint her fingernails and her toes as well. Her cooking is top tier! As a Hestia child obviously she would excel at anything that has to do with domestic and home type things.

She 100% would/will make her own dress. Once made a huge ball gown dress because none of the place had what she was looking for.

When she isn’t doing any of her hobbies she’s working out and practicing her pyrokinesis. Hana trained a lot back where she was from, so she could master her pyrokinesis and her sword. She’s gotten to the point where she can lift a car. Just because she’s in a different place doesn’t give her the excuse to slack off!!

Ironically her mother is a virginal goddess and isn’t married to anyone. Hana on the other hand, wants to get married and have kids. She shooting for 4 but it all depends on what her partner wants. (2,6,8 it just depends)

Hestia children can induce serenity and make tense situations a lot more calmer. Hanako has defeated a lot of enemies and monsters this way.

Hanako knows 4 different languages. English, Japanese, Greek, and French. She was taught Japanese by her father and Greek by her mother. She learned French and English herself

Even though Hana loves to do girly things, makeup is not one of them. She always thought it was pretty cool but she never had the time to sit down and practice it.

Thank you for reading✨ I had a lot of fun making this and I can’t wait to write more stuff about her! I’ll probably have to learn how to make a master post so her stuff is easier to access. If you have any questions about Hana my inbox is open, or you can message me in private, either way works!

I hope you stick around for more content with Hanako! 🌸🔥✨

[time-to-cause-chaos]

catch me to infinity

5 times Wanda catches Peter, and 1 time she doesn't know if she can. (Reblogs appreciated <3) (st*rk*r shippers, pls DNI) (also this is PLATONIC, not slash so yeah, pls don’t read this as slash)

AO3 link    WC: 5,738

1. Accidentally, off a couch

“Wanda”  Peter says, laying across his chair, feet dangling idly in the air.  

“Wandaaa”, Peter whines again.  His half-finished hot cocoa sits abandoned on the coffee table while Wanda sips hers quietly.

Wanda pauses the tv, raising an eyebrow and looking over to Peter with an unimpressed look.  

The guy on the screen is leaning against a wall, mouth half-open, caught in the middle of a joke.

“We’ve watched this episode like a million times.  I can probably tell you every single line and scene by heart at this point.”

Wanda sighs, “Which one should we watch then?”

A quick glance at the window says they’re still stuck inside, if the storming winds and downpour mean anything.  They didn’t have a problem with some light rain, in fact, if Tony and Steve hadn’t expressly told them they couldn’t go outside, they would already be soaked and muddy.  The last day they’d gone outside in the cold though, the next day was full of fevers and snotty napkins so it was decided they’d actually listen this time.  That rainy day had still been awesome though and there were absolutely no regrets, even when Peter was delirious and giggling everywhere in a haze.

The sitcom playing in front of them was one of Wanda’s favorites - probably why Peter had put up with watching it for the millionth time - but at this point, she was barely making it through the episode without wanting to rip her hair out.

She was bored.

Peter came around her and sat on the back of the couch, his feet planted on the cushions.  Flipping through the shows was a waste, they’d also gone through nearly every episode they could and starting a new show right now sounded exhausting.

Wanda slumped and Peter got up, standing on the sofa, “There are so many things we could do, we’re in the Avengers Compound, there can’t be nothing to do.”

“We could go swimming?” Peter asks.

Wanda groans, “Then you’ll be the one explaining why we got sick again”

“Wanda, it’s indoors”

“N-o” she spells out, “No swimming”

“Well what about-”, Wanda doesn’t figure out what Peter was going to say because his balancing act comes toppling down, maybe balancing on his heels and pacing on the headrest of the couch hadn’t been one of his best ideas.

Peter yelps and his arms come over his head as he crashes to the floor.

...Except the crash never comes.

Instead when Peter opens his eyes, his nose is one inch from touching the floorboards and his limbs are covered in bright red ripples of light.

“Whoa”, he breathes, uncurling himself and spreading his arms out, as if he was floating.

Wanda scoffs and with a flick of her fingers, let’s go of her hold on the mist and helps him close the gap between himself and the floor, dropping him harmlessly on the floor.

He picks himself up and looks at her, mouth agape, “Wands, you have powers!” he shouts in glee.

She rolls her eyes and snorts, “Really, Peter?  That is news to me.”

“No, no I mean imagine all the fun things we could do with this”, Peter’s hands flail wildly to emphasize his point, “we could prank the others, for one”

She smirks up at him, “That’s actually not a bad idea”

“When have I ever had a bad idea”

Wanda’s eyebrows pinch together in exasperation, “The swimming idea?”

“Okay, fine moment of weakness but anyways,” he grins, “We need supplies, I’m going to get supplies” 

He snaps his fingers and is out the door before he can hear Wanda yell, “If Tony grounds you, it’s not my fault!”

2.  Mysteriously, for the suspense and drama

Peter laughed into the comms as he kicked one of the bad guys down, “Was that a dad joke, Mr.Stark?”

“It was a pun, there’s a difference Spidey” Tony grunts, blasting up into the air and firing another guy down a stairwell.

Clint pops on the comm link, crackling into their ears, “I’m pretty sure that was a dad joke Tony”

Peter shoots a web onto the ceiling and swings around, webbing up the last few people in the room, “Mr.Stark, just make sure to give us a warning before you go full dad-mode and start playing golf and bringing us our lunches”

“I actually think I did bring your lunch to your school that one time”, Peter doesn’t have to see Mr.Stark’s face to know he’s smirking.

“Nope, nuh-uh, no I definitely don’t remember that”

“Oh yes you do,” Tony laughs, “Your face was red the entire time”

Peter grimaces,”No idea what you’re talking about”.  Oh he definitely did, it had been embarrassing, god and Ned’s jaw was practically on the floor while MJ watched unimpressed as the entire class’s eyes bulged.

“I think I saw some dudes slip up to the roof, I’m going to go grab them” Peter says, changing the subject and looking for Tony for confirmation.

“Go ahead, Underoos.  I’ll be right behind, just going to make sure law enforcement have a hold of these guys, first.”

Peter nods and slips out of the room, already running up the fire escape.  

He bursts out onto the roof and immediately has a gun trained on him.

“Make one move, Spiderman, I dare you”

“Well, I do love a good dare”

Peter ducks behind a potted plant just as the guy fires a bullet.  Spinning out from his hiding place he yells, “I’m going to call you Boots!”

The man was wearing heavy black combat boots with large wedges, a short person’s true love, Peter thinks.

He had thick wedges too on most of his sneakers, but he assured himself Tony he only wore them because they were fun to wear.

Speaking of, he was pretty sure Mr.Stark made his shoes with wedges in them too-

Peter yelps and ducks as the gun fires again, missing him by a foot this time.

Anyways, he was average height, thank you very much.  Anyone who said otherwise could eat his webs and dirt.

Peter notices a slight hesitation in his opponent’s movement and immediately shoots a web out, yanking his gun arm down.  

He flips behind him and punches him down right before the man flips back up, nailing Peter on his nose and forcing him back.

Peter yelps and realizes their fight is nearing the edge of the roof, which had a good 8-story drop behind it.

He tries to push his punches in another direction, trying to redirect them both before one of them goes over but the man stays strong pushing them closer and closer to the edge.

Wanda’s voice comes in through the comms, “Peter, where are you?”

“Roof” Peter barely gets out through his grunts.

“I’m under you” she says.

Ironman comes out through the roof access door and watches as Peter stumbles, barely inches from tipping over the side.

He raises a metal hand, ready to shoot but Peter stops him, “Just trust me”

He would’ve let Tony handle it, but the blast could knock him off too, not just the other guy, and if he was going to plummet off a building today, he wanted to do it on his own terms.

Balancing on the small wall, the only thing keeping him from falling off, Peter jumps sideways just as the man raises a leg to kick him down.  

Peter smirks, using two fingers to salute, “Sayonara, sucker” he laughs as he pushes off and starts free-falling backwards, wind and gravity pushing on him.

That was so cool, he thinks.  It was a perfect reenactment of those scenes in movies where a character will dramatically fall off a roof narrowly escaping their nemesis and then gets caught by like, a dragon or a flying pirate ship.

It’s called a fashionable exit, to all the uncultured misfortunes who think it’s stupid.

Mr.Stark was probably pretty confused about what just happened though.

He plunges through the air for a full three seconds before he’s caught by Wanda’s magic, floating mid-air.

He catches a glimpse of her pursed lips and smiles, “You’re so dramatic” she tells him, concealing her amused eyes.

Wanda takes them both up to the roof where Mr.Stark already has the man Peter was fighting, tied down.

Tony groans in exasperation when he sees them both, already having figured out their little magic act.

They just laugh.

3. To annoy, off the counter

It’s a Friday and the essay sitting on the table next to Wanda has already been long abandoned.  He was not going to waste another minute trying to figure out what personal connection he could make the short story they’d been assigned to read during class.

He related to it because he’d been in a similar situation maybe?  

But anyways, he wasn’t going to waste time trying to find a way to spread that over 8 detailed sentences and supporting textual evidence.

He’s sitting on the counter and watching Wanda and Vision read books next to each other on the chairs.  Wanda’s legs are resting on Vision’s lap and as fun as it was watching them both, he was still exhausted and not in the mood to face the dangers of his other homework for tonight.  

Didn’t Mr.Stark say not to risk his life unnecessarily?  This should definitely count because just looking as the textbook took away two hours of his energy, at this rate he’d be on his death-bed by nightfall.

Munching on a protein bar, he looks up at the ceiling.  

The only one in the building right now, besides Vision and Wanda, was Steve - well technically Mr.Stark too, but he was in a board meeting that Pepper begged him not to bail on so he was off-limits.  

He glares at Wanda, trying to get her to notice him bored out of his mind, but she stubbornly stays focused on the page.

She’s actually reading Harry Potter, the result of Peter’s pestering, and she loved it.  The plan to get Wanda to do something with him was interfering with the joy he would usually feel though.

Like yay, my pseudo big sister is finally catching up on all the books and movies she’s missed while working with evil people but also please please please notice me before i throw my stupid homework into the sink disposal-

His alarming train of thought still didn’t catch her attention so he slumps before getting up and deciding to walk all over the counters and ceiling.  You know if that mark on the wall from when someone - ahem Clint ahem - had thrown a pen on the ceiling, acted like a mark he could pretend he was doing an obstacle course.

Yes, he could see it now, he’d do a cartwheel over the pen mark on the ceiling, then run on the wall, then he’d jump over the couch, and jump back onto the counter, the living room was plenty big enough.

Wow, this is a sorry excuse for fun.

He did the course three times and was skittering across the ceiling when Steve walked in and immediately shook his head at him.

Peter freezes in surprise and looks guiltily at Steve.

“I’m guessing the homework didn’t get done”, Steve says.

Peter sits criss-cross on the ceiling, if he gets down, he’s probably going to be guilt-tripped into doing his homework and no thank you.

Steve sighs and looks at him, “At least get down, you’re going to fall and get hurt.”

“No I won’t.  I’m part-spider, this is like my natural territory”, Peter says.

“You have the traits of a spider”

Why did he always have to pull out the school detention PSA voice?

“But look!  I can do a cartwheel on here, I’ve been doing them and I’m fine”

He’ll get down, as soon as he does just one, little cartwheel to annoy Steve.

Of course, that’s when his body decides to betray him and he slips, losing his grip on the ceiling.

He wasn’t worried about falling and smashing his nose at all, he knew Wanda would catch him every single time, in fact he’s already crossing his arms over his chest and scowling as he hovers on his back 3 feet above the ground.

Steve walks by him, still suspended in the air, and ruffles his hair, “Homework now”, then probably feeling bad for Peter, he adds, “Tony said you can use the lab later if you finish early”

Peter groans, “Fine”

Wanda puts him on the couch and he walks over to her and drops in the chair next to her on the table.  She hasn’t looked up once this entire time, not even when she’d caught him in the air, only unlatching her fingers from Vision’s and stopping his fall with her powers.  

Now she looks up and smiles at him, poking his forehead and pushing his computer towards him.

He groans again.

4.  To spite and win, off the balcony

Peter licks his lips, running through the plan again.

There’s someone coming down this hall, he can hear their soft footsteps padding on the floor.  Peter’s going to jump out and get the offending person out of the game, it’ll be easy as long as he times it right.

He jumps out from where he’s hiding behind the door frame and pulls up the gun aiming it at the unsuspecting form.

His paintball gun chooses right then to stall and dang it, that means that he has no defense or attack.

He looks up to find Clint grinning at him coyly, gun already trained on him and finger poised on the trigger.

He yelps and jumps out of the way just in time, the purple paintball splattering against the counter.

Peter runs back through the hallway, getting away from Clint and his treacherous smile (it was the smile of a deranged man who would do anything it takes to win paintball) and finds a cleaning closet to hide in while he fixes his gun.

Did the plastic pieces just have to jam right then? Talk about shitty luck.

He picks at the inside of the barrel with a toothpick and grins as a faint click ensures that the machine is functioning again.  The paintball that had gotten stuck shoots out and Peter ducks out of the way as pink splatters against the dark wall.

He knows Clint’s prowling the halls for him right now and he prays the man didn’t just hear the shotgun go off.

Slowly creaking the door open and making sure there’s no one there, he tip-toes out and runs to the balcony, it’s the perfect place to hide out and wait for his next victim.  The second anyone enters the living room, he has the perfect view on them and nobody looks at the balcony until it’s too late, which means more wins for him.

He underestimated Clint though.

The older man jumps out (umm where did he come from??) and kicks Peter’s gun away from him with a triumphant laugh.  Peter backs up against the cool metal railing and looks at him imploringly, “Can we talk this out?” he offers weakly.

He really regretted voting for the no superpowers rule now.

“Any last words, Parker”

Peter turns his head around, looking for a way out.  It was too high to jump from without his webs and it won’t be possible to run around Clint without getting hit by a paintball.  

Right before he decides to accept his inevitable defeat he sees a flash of bright red hair hiding in the branches of one of the thick, green trees below them.

“You know what, you got me Clint” he smirks, letting Clint bask in his moment of victory for a second, “Just kidding” and he flips himself back off over the railing.

He really wishes he could’ve seen Clint’s face at that moment, sadly success came with a price.

Right on schedule, the sharp red crackles of electricity catch him a couple of feet from the ground and he plants his feet on the ground, turning around to face Wanda.

“Thanks Wands”

“Oh I didn’t do it for you”

It takes him a second too long to figure out what she means but by the time he does it’s already too late, a dark red paintball slams into his protective vest.

“You’re a traitor, Wanda” Peter sulked, wow and here he thought he could actually win - or at least come second to Nat.

“All is fair in love and paintball”

5. Unwillingly, off a stage

Wanda had decided to pick Peter up from his Decathlon practice, it was always Happy who did it but he was sick and plus, they could grab some ice cream and talk before they had to head back.

She tapped her fingers idly on the steering wheel, rapping out a misplaced tune and glances again at the school gates.  

She fixes the rearview mirror and frowns, Peter should have come skipping out 15 minutes ago.

Wanda steps out of the car and smooths her wrinkled hoodie, running her fingers through hair once in the window before walking towards the school.

Her sneakers squeak, echoing loudly through the empty hallways and she has to wrinkle her nose at the spitballs stuck to the walls and lockers.  Someone’s book report flits around in the air and suddenly, she’s incredibly grateful she never had to go to a real high school.

There’s a piece of paper with a handwritten “Academic Decathlon” scribbled on it taped loosely on heavy, wooden doors and she pushes them open, shivering at the rush of cold air that bursts out.

Peering in, Wanda sees Peter on the stage but he’s not alone.  There’s another high-schooler gripping hard at his shoulders and sneering at him, speaking words Wanda’s not close enough to hear.  It doesn’t take any amount of genius to know the two boys weren’t friends/

She doesn’t even have time to intervene because Peter’s pushed off the stage, it’s barely a 2 foot fall but Wanda doesn’t care, she’s angry.

Peter looks at her in surprise with dark red cheeks once she puts him, gently, on the floor.  He practically curls in on himself and she honestly wouldn’t be surprised if her skin was a similar shade as his, just not for the same reason.

She stomps up to the other boy who’s looking at her in alarm and pokes a harsh finger at his chest, “You. bastard.” she accentuates each word by pushing her finger even harder against his t-shirt, “What’s wrong with you?!”

She may not have gone to high school but she definitely knows what a bully is.  She’s had plenty of her own in the past, even if she hadn’t realized it at first.

It wasn’t fair Peter had to go through the same thing, school wasn’t supposed to be like this.  It was where you were supposed to goof off with your friends and learn, not get pushed around by kids because they think they’re better than you.

A hand tugs at her wrist and she’s so wound up nearly forgets to soften her face when Peter tugs again, silently asking her to just drop it.

She looks back at the bully who’s gone pale and pushes him, sending him stumbling back a few feet.

“Don’t touch my little brother again, asshole” she snarls before whipping around and dragging Peter out the doors by his backpack.

By the time they get to the car, Peter still hasn’t said a word and instead opts to look out the window, not even sparing Wanda a small glance.

Her face is still aflame and her hands are still clenched around the wheel as she pulls to the side of the road and parks, looking over at Peter.  His eyes are tinged red.

“I’m sorry” he whispers, the second they’re parked.

“Don’t say sorry, it wasn’t your fault, but why didn’t you fight back?  Just one shove”.  It doesn’t make sense, Peter is strong enough to take on super-soldiers, he practically is one himself with all his advancements, so why doesn’t he just push back?  He doesn’t have to get hurt like this, he doesn’t deserve to.

“I’m just Peter Parker.  I’m not Spiderman at school so it wouldn’t make sense, I can’t just do that”, his fingers dig into his thighs and he kicks lightly at his backpack.

“Then you could’ve said something to us,” she’s looking up at him, eyes almost crazed.  It’s not okay, it’s not even close alright, it’s awful that this happens to him.

And she knows it’s not just a one-time thing.

Not when bullying at Midtown has been discussed far too many times for comfort, not when he’s come back with bruises and marks even when he hasn’t patrolled in days, and definitely not when Peter just tried to subtly wipe a tear from his cheek.

She feels tired all of a sudden, as her raging wave of anger reaches a crescendo and plummets to the ground, scattering, dropping her intentions to take care of anyone who even comes close to hurting Peter with some well-placed punches and kicks.

Wanda sighs and squeezes her eyes shut, blindly, she grabs Peter’s hand and asks, “Was that the Flash guy?”

“No, Flash never gets physical, he’s not too bad.  This is someone else”

“So you’ve been getting bullied by multiple people?”, it’s not a question, she already knows.  “Peter, you’re Spiderman, you know this isn’t right so please, please the next time this happens just” she exhales, “Just please, promise you’ll tell someone, anyone and they’ll take care of it”

“Promise” Peter breathes from next to her.

“Okay” she pulls back into the traffic, “I’m getting cookie dough ice cream, which one do you want?”

+1.  This one was definitely not supposed to happen, shit, shitshit

It’s getting really hard to breathe.

Which should probably not be happening, but in Peter’s defense, he hadn’t even wanted to skip class.  MJ had told him to, quote, “Get out of here before your dumbass throws up on someone’s shoes” and for once he’d actually listened, deciding going home and sleeping his fever off was better than being stuck in a stuffy old classroom, doing schoolwork.  

The heater of the apartment sounded like heaven and sunshine right about then.

He was just going to take the subway when one of the tv’s turned on, flashing a news report about the Avengers fighting the group of people near the tower.

According to the news channel, they had a whole lot of advanced technology, from ray guns to shapeless contraptions you couldn’t tell heads or tails of.

And there were a lot of them.

So of course, Peter had immediately donned his warm hoodie and jeans and switched into his suit, already swinging towards to get there, it made his stomach queasy and his head spin, but it was fine, he was already almost there.

“Peter, you’re not doing this right now, stop it and go home”, Tony’s voice is playing through Karen the second he’s in range.

“Technically, I’m supposed to be in school right now, Mr.Stark”, Peter swings onto a roof and crashes against someone, knocking them down before looking at the metal cube object they had abandoned.

It was glowing a light purple, which should probably not be happening.

He walked cautiously around it and his eyes widened as the glow got brighter and spread more, covering the entire cube now.

“Shit!”

Peter manages to scramble back before it explodes, leaving a black scorch mark on the floor and the smell of smoke in the air.

“Peter!?”

Oops, he’d forgotten Mr.Stark was there.

“Yeah I’m fine, just where did these people get all this stuff?”

“No idea, but Pete, I swear to god get out of here, or else I’m calling your aunt”, there’s a strangled grunt and the comms go silent.

“Mr.Stark??”, there’s no answer, “Karen, take me to Mr.Stark”

He swings two buildings away and lands on the 9th floor balcony, entering and running towards the signal.  When he enters the room, Tony’s being held up against the wall by someone who’s wearing heavy metal body armor, it could pass for an Iron Man cosplay if you squint really hard.

He jumps over, kicking them down and ducking a punch.  Grabbing the wrist of the armor, Peter twists their arm and slams them on their back before immediately looking back at Tony and helping him up.

“You okay?”, Peter questions.

“Yup, something she used fried the comm link though, I can’t get to to anyone else”

Peter nods and they both run through the halls, racing to get to the top of the building. 

“What do they want?”

“I don’t know, but right now I think they’re just trying to blow stuff up”

Bursting onto the roof, there’s only one person there with some weird silver spear, which honestly looks pretty harmless compared to everything else.

The man there, sees them and immediately backs off, dropping everything and stumbling away with a forced smile.

Tony still closes in on him and Peter webs his wrists and legs to the floor, just in case.

They’re both looking down onto the other rooftops for trouble when the headache Peter has been ignoring grows, and he stumbles back feeling his fever spike.

Tony approaches him and kneels down next to him where he’s sprawled on the floor waiting for the dizzy spell to pass.

“Kid, you have a fever”, Tony says after asking Karen for his vitals.

Peter swallows and fights the urge to keel over and vomit, “I’m fine”

“If I had a penny for every time I heard that” he jokes, voice unbearably soft, “Listen, you stay here and I’ll come and get you when this is over, ‘kay?”

Peter’s about to nod when someone flies onto the roof, they’re wearing goggles and using mechanical wings to help them fly.

Peter’s too dizzy to do anything so he watches as Tony raises a gauntlet and fires it up with a low whine that resonates in Peter’s keyed-up ears.

“Back off”, Tony says as a warning.

The girl smiles and takes off the goggles, slipping them up on her head with a puckish smirk, folding her wings in.

“Pleasure to meet you Iron Man, as well as you Spider”, she has a lilting accent that Peter can’t place.

The gauntlet doesn’t falter, even as Tony shifts so Peter is stuck in his shadow, “What do you want?”

“I want one of your inventions.  I may not be in charge of all these idiots, but my best friend is our leader and if you get me what I want, this can all be called off.”

“Best I can do are scraps from the intern labs, sorry.” he says, before firing a repulsor as she ducks out of the way.

“I wasn’t going to this the hard way but I suppose I’ll have to”, her curly, brown hair whips in her face as she puts it up into a ponytail, still dodging Tony’s blasts.

Peter’s spidey sense flares just as her wings do and she’s coming at him at full speed, lifting him up and flying up, past the buildings.  Oh he really has to hurl now.

Tony swears and tries to blast up, only to realize the girl had stuck a small square chip on him and his suit’s shutting down, his breathing clips and he looks up to where Peter’s being flown up.

He gets out of the suit and runs to the edge of the roof, “Wilson!” he calls, signaling Sam over from where he’s hauling debris out of the street for a car to get through.

Sam flies up to him and without a word, grabs him and flies him over to where Clint, Natasha, and Wanda are a few buildings away.  The whole 30 seconds he hasn’t taken his eyes off the Peter-shaped speck in the sky that’s getting harder and harder to see.

He stumbles over to Clint who’s looking at Wanda in concern, arms braced behind her to catch her if she falls. 

Tony briefly wonders what’s going on, before looking up at the collapsing building in front of them, the scarlet circling her wrists, and the sheen of sweat covering her forehead.

Clint looks over to him, swallowing, “Steve’s in there trying to get the rest of the people out, we can’t get in though, it’s too unstable.  The second Wanda lets go, the entire place is coming crashing down”

Tony can’t hide his panic anymore and he points up the sky, “Clint, it’s Peter”

Clint follows his finger and he jerks, seeing the red and blue suit in the distance, “Oh god”

The comms finally crackle back online and Tony swears his heart skips a beat when he realizes the bird lady just dropped Peter, oh my god.

They’re well over 4,000 feet up and his heart is in his throat as Peter’s screaming floods through the comms.  

Wanda hears it too and her hold on the building falters as she falls to her knees, eyes squeezed shut.  Clint moves to hold her but hovers around her instead, glancing back up at Peter when Wanda has a semi-stable grip again.

Natasha kneels on the ground next to Wanda, “You’re going to have to catch him”

Wanda’s voice teeters on a cry, “I’m trying”

Tony holds back his own cry and desperately tries to speak into the comms, if Peter realizes Tony’s trying to get through to him he doesn’t acknowledge it.

The comms are filled with wheezing and rushing wind and Tony’s gripping his arm so tight because that’s his kid dammit, and he can’t do anything.

Wanda’s attempts at catching him are proving futile, she can’t handle anything else without dropping the building which she can’t do, not when Steve and a whole lot of people are depending on her not to let it go.

“Sam, can’t you take your wings up and get him?”.  He doesn't care how panicked his voice sounds right now.

“One of the guys stuck a chip on it, the thing’s dead-weight now” Sam says, voice filled with sorrow.

Tony gulps in a breath and falls on his knees next to Wanda, “You have to catch him, Wanda” there’s a grim undertone in his voice hiding the waver and pure terror flooding through his veins.

Wanda grunts, tears are shining in her eyes, if it’s because of the strain or Peter, he has no idea.

“GUYS! Guys, guys, I’m falling!” Peter screams into their earpieces, voice cutting out, hot tears squeeze at his eyes.

Wanda looks up with a new sense of determination and her eyes flash, Tony suddenly knows that anyone going toe-to-toe with her would probably run first chance instead of fight.

“You can do it Wanda, come on” Tony pleads.

Peter’s form is getting bigger every second, little by little.

At around 500 feet, a faint glimmer of red runs over his body but it’s not enough, it slows Peter’s fall the tiniest bit before he’s hurtling through the air again.

‘Tony, Tony, Tony” Peter says his name like a prayer in the comms and Tony clenches his fist again, switching between looking at Wanda and Peter so fast, he wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up with whiplash.

The strain on Wanda’s forehead grows and her eyes squeeze shut as she tears at her limits.  

Tony stands beside where she’s kneeled on the ground, trying to see if he’d be able to catch Peter if this didn’t work.  He really hoped it didn’t come to that though, he didn’t have his suit and with the speed Peter was falling at, he didn’t know what would happen.

Eyes focused on Peter, Tony realizes a thin, flickering layer of red is very slowly growing over his body.  Relief bubbles in his throat and Wanda is able to slow Peter enough so that he and Sam can grab onto him, they all fall to the ground in a pile of limbs.

Tony grabs Peter under his shoulders and holds him upright as he gags and chokes on nothing, taking off his mask and brushing his curls off of his sweaty face.

Tony’s ears ring with the lingering screams of Wanda and Peter, his throat feels raw and he realizes that in his panic, he had been screaming too.  And it wasn’t just his ears that were buzzing, it seemed like everything was still ringing, the air vibrating with panic.

Peter was held close to Tony’s chest as he shook with heaving gasps and suppressed sobs, dried tear tracks streak the sides of his face and Tony tries to comb his fingers through the knots in Peter’s hair.

Looking around, Tony took everything in, everyone’s faces were pale and Wanda was barely holding herself up on her elbows, her heavy pants were forced through clenched teeth.

She’d let go of her hold on the building as Steve had come running out, waiting till he was out of the damage zone before sending it all crashing down.  All of that had happened just seconds after she had managed to gradually slow Peter down and get him to the ground in one piece.

A sigh of exhaustion huffs through Tony’s nose and the team sits in silence for a few minutes, trying to process all the chaos that had just happened.

Clint was helping Wanda, shakily, sit up and Peter crawled out of Tony’s arms to her before wrapping his trembling arms around her shoulders and whispering something to her.

Tony doesn’t know what was said but Peter was safe, everyone was safe.  They were all alright and his breaths started to come easier.  

Natasha sat next to him giving him a small, reassuring smile.  He leaned back and shut his eyes, making a mental note to add a parachute to Peter’s suit, among many other things.  Also to thank Wanda, because if she hadn’t been here...Tony didn’t want to think about it.

That was done now though.  Tony’s chest feels much lighter when Peter smiles at him over Wanda’s shoulder, the type of smile that conveys a million emotions, with nothing else.

He gives a shaky grin back.

[searchingwardrobes]

The Convenient Groom: 12/14

I am so excited to finally get to this chapter because parts of it were some of the first things I wrote for this fic! This is where we earn our M rating, folks. We've got sexy times here that walk a thin line between steamy and smutty. However, that doesn't mean the angst is going anywhere. If anything, we're about to dial it up. You've been warned on all fronts. @spartanguard​, I hope you are still enjoying your present. You deserve all the good things!

Summary: Killian Jones just happens to be there when Emma Swan gets the phone call that changes everything: her fiance is leaving her at the altar. The thing is, it could also mean the end of her career. Convenient that Killian has nothing better to do that day. Convenient that he’s secretly in love with her. Not that Emma has to know that. Written for @spartanguard​ .

Rating: M

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  @snowbellewells​​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​ @let-it-raines​​​ @teamhook​​​​ @bethacaciakay​​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​ @shireness-says​​​​ @stahlop​​​​ @scientificapricot​​​​ @welllpthisishappening​​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​​​ @thislassishooked​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​ @kday426​​​​ @ekr032-blog-blog​​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​ @nikkiemms​​​ @optomisticgirl​​​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​​ @carpedzem​​​ @ohmakemeahercules​​​​ @branlovestowrite​​​ @superchocovian​​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​​​ @vvbooklady1256​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​​​ @jennjenn615​​​ @snidgetsafan​ @xsajx​ @itsfabianadocarmo​

The weeks of August slipped by, and as they did, Emma came to feel more and more comfortable with her “temporary” arrangement. She no longer felt the need to put distance between them in the bed. She sometimes woke to find Killian’s arm around her and his nose buried in her hair, and she found she didn’t mind. She had told him she wasn’t a cuddler, and she wasn’t - he was. The thing that surprised her, however, was how comforting it felt. She didn’t feel the need to slip quickly from his arms or squirm away. Quite the opposite, actually. She usually drifted back to sleep for a few more minutes with a contented smile on her face. Come to think of it, she was sleeping better than she had in years.

Her days were simpler here than they had been in New York. Walsh had been concerned that they would miss the excitement of the city, but she didn’t miss it at all. She liked the slower pace of her days, the leisurely meals with Killian, and the lazy evenings of Netflix and hot chocolate. Even when they walked across the sand dunes to join Killian’s family for dinner, it was relaxed, ending with all of them gathered around the fire pit as the stars twinkled overhead.

Kristoff and Anna moved out mid-August, settling into a quaint Cape-Cod style house a few streets over. They closed on the house just in time as tiny Lukas - seven pounds, eight ounces, 18 inches long - made his appearance on August 20th at a little past two o’clock in the morning. Emma and Killian had been awakened from a deep sleep with the news. They had tumbled out of bed in excitement, throwing on clothes, then racing across town to Storybrooke General to see their nephew. It was amazing to Emma how easily she thought of the baby boy that way as she held him in her arms. Technically, he wasn’t even Killian’s nephew, but Anna said technicalities didn’t matter - family was family.

Mary Margaret and David had become family too, welcoming them for dinner often as well. Leo was always excited to see “Uncle Killy” and “Aunt Emmy.” It was a nice change, too - not having to put on an act, since MM and David knew the truth. Although Emma had a harder and harder time telling what was an act and what wasn’t.

August melted into September with barely any change in the weather but a slightly cooler breeze off the water. It was still creeping into the high 70s during the day, though Emma knew that by the end of the month, those would drop about ten degrees. She wondered what their daily runs would look like when the weather really got cold, but she didn’t ask Killian. She didn’t want to think too far into the future these days, and she certainly didn’t want to bring it up in conversation.

They were out for a walk along the water’s edge one evening after dinner when everything changed. They were enjoying the colors of the sunset in silence, tossing a stick leisurely to Smee as they went along, when Killian suddenly got more personal than Emma had wanted.

“Emma.”

“Yeah?” She turned into the wind to see his face, and her hair blew across her eyes so she couldn’t see his expression. By his tone, she imagined his jaw was clenched.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Emma swallowed nervously. “Um . . . sure, I guess.”

He turned and stepped closer to her. He reached out and brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears.

“Where is your family?”

His words were gentle, his brow furrowed in concern. This was a topic that she avoided like the plague. She had made it clear in interviews that her past was private. As a matter of fact, as popular as she was on social media, she worked hard to keep her content focused on her work and not her personal life. The only reason her marriage had gotten entangled in it was the nature of that work.

Emma searched Killian’s earnest face and realized that it wouldn’t be fair to him if she refused to answer. He had shared his most vulnerable memories of Milah, after all. She let out a shuddering breath and closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her courage.

“I don’t have one.” She raised a hand to stop his protests. “I mean, obviously I had parents. I have no idea who they are, though. I was a baby when they dumped me on the side of the highway.”

“Surely an adorable baby like you was adopted right away?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, I was. By a couple in their fifties who were unable to have kids of their own - the Baxters. Thing is, I don’t remember them either. Unfortunately, Mrs. Baxter died suddenly of a heart attack, and Mr. Baxter just couldn’t cope. Family services got involved and took me out of the home on multiple occasions due to Mr. Baxter’s many problems.”

“Problems?” Killian asked softly.

Emma shivered as a breeze blew past, even though she was wearing a sweater over her long sleeved tee.

“Neglect. Substance Abuse. Child endangerment. I’ve read the files. All I really remember is this intimidating man who sat in his La-z-boy drinking beer all day long. I ping ponged between him and multiple foster homes. He didn’t relinquish custody until I was eight, and by that time, no one wanted me.”

“Don’t say that, Emma,” Killian told her in a strained voice. He drew closer and cupped her face in his hands. “You’re wanted.”

She shook her head. “Not then. No one wanted to adopt me by that time. I was too old. Everyone wants a baby or a toddler. I wasn’t . . . enough.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and Killian caught it with his thumb.

“Liam and I . . . our dad took off when we were kids. Mum died when I was thirteen. Then it was just us. Foster care didn’t even try to keep us together, but when Liam aged out, he found me.”

“I didn’t have a Liam.”

“You’ve got me now.”

His hands were warm against her face, his breath caressed her lips, his nose brushed hers. The look in his eyes was too much, and she looked away, over his shoulder and across the horizon. Living by the water all these months, it wasn’t the first time she had seen rain moving across the sand and water like a sheet, but she gasped and stumbled backwards anyway.

“Rain’s coming,” she said in answer to the hurt in his gaze. Before he could say anything, she turned and ran down the beach, back towards the house. Smee thought it was a game and ran with her, letting out happy barks. She couldn’t run fast enough. Killian called after her, but she just ran faster. Smee bounced happily across her path, playfully nudging at her heels, and she tripped over his furry body. She didn’t go down at first, pinwheeling her arms and digging in her heels. But the rain had already started to come down, and the sand was slick. Her heels slid forward and she landed on her rear end. Killian was at her side almost immediately.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he helped her up.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, shaking herself from his grasp. She knew it wasn’t fair, but her nerves were raw.

“What were you running from?”

“The rain!” She had to shout as water poured from the heavens in sheets.

“It’s just rain,” he shouted back, “not a storm.”

“I didn’t want to get wet.”

“We’re already wet!”

They were. His hair was flat against his head, and hers was stuck to her cheeks and neck. Emma’s sweater felt like lead across her shoulders, and Killian’s t-shirt was like a second skin, accentuating every muscle.

“You!” she shouted through the downpour.

“What?”

“I was running away from you!”

His gaze was bewildered as he struggled to blink the rain from his eyes. She didn’t know how else to say it, so she acted instead. She grabbed him by a fistful of his soaked shirt and yanked him to her. This wasn’t a kiss for the sake of appearances when there was an audience. This was unadulterated passion - messy, with clacking teeth, bruised lips, and tangled tongues. When she could no longer breathe, Emma pulled back. She had to grasp his shirt tighter as she stumbled in the sand. Killian steadied her, then reached up to peel strands of hair from her cheeks.

“Let’s get inside and dry off,” he told her.

She nodded dumbly, not sure what to say after she’d pretty much humiliated herself. First by running from him like a lunatic, then kissing him like a desperate woman. She released him and turned towards the house. Killian wasn’t far away, his hand hovering a little awkwardly first at her back, then at her shoulder blades.

They made their way up the back porch steps and through the screen door. Luckily, they kept towels there for drying off Smee after he’d been in the water. They scrubbed themselves wordlessly. Smee shook himself, sending water flying all over the porch. Killian scrubbed the dog next, and Emma kicked off her shoes before going inside.

She stood there shivering in the kitchen, water dripping from her sweater and pooling all over the floor. With shaking hands, she discarded her sweater. The loss of its weight felt nice, but the cold air against her did not. The door banged shut, and she turned to see Killian enter with Smee at his heels. His brow furrowed in concern when he looked at her.

“You need to get out of those clothes, Swan, before you freeze to death.”

He had discarded his t-shirt on the porch and stood there bare chested, his skin glistening with rain water, his dark hair hanging tantalizingly over his eyes. She swallowed thickly as desire pooled in her belly.

“I’d like you to get me out of them,” she replied. She meant to say it with playful flirting, but it came out with crackling, straining tension instead.

“What?”

Emma crossed to him in one stride, pressing her palms to his wet chest. His skin was warm and rose and fell with each breath. Time seemed to slow as her gaze met his, then sped up again as she surged closer, sliding one hand behind his neck to yank his lips to hers. He didn’t hesitate, kissing her back with aggression, wrapping one arm around her and tangling his other in her wet hair.

He backed her up against the opposite wall, pressing his wet body to hers. Emma let out a sound that was part moan, part desperate pant as her head dropped back against the wall. They were both frantic now, their hands roaming and grasping. Killian traced her jaw, then the column of her neck with his tongue. As his teeth lightly nipped at her earlobe, his hands found her waist and began pushing the wet fabric of her shirt up her torso. She raised her arms, moaning at the loss of contact with his body as the shirt was pulled over her head. As soon as the garment landed with a wet plop on the floor, Killian assaulted her mouth again, swallowing her groan of pleasure with his tongue. His hands skimmed up and over her chest, leaving fire in his wake. His fingers found one of her bra straps, and he slid it with aching slowness over her shoulder, following the path with his lips. Emma dug her fingers into his hair and thrust her hips forward. He groaned as he lifted his head and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“Emma,” he whispered on a ragged breath, hot against her skin. “I want you so desperately, but are you sure?”

Emma yanked on his hair, forcing him to look at her. His blue eyes were darkened with lust.

“Take me to our bed, Killian.”

“Our bed?”

She answered with an aggressive kiss and another thrust of her hips. Killian’s hands slid up her back, and he unclasped her bra. He broke their kiss to trail his tongue once again down her neck as he slid her bra off and tossed it aside. She panted at the thought of feeling his lips on her breasts, but instead he pulled her flush against him as he claimed her mouth once more. The feel of wet skin against wet skin and the feel of his damp chest hair rubbing against her sensitive nipples sent heat skittering across every inch of her body.

Killian reached around, grasped her by the ass, and hoisted her up. Emma wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked her deftly to the bedroom without breaking their kisses. He deposited her onto the bed and slid both her wet shorts and wet panties down her legs in one deft movement.

Emma was bare before him, and she felt nothing but eagerness. His gaze caressed her, and she had never felt so desirable. She trembled all over as he discarded his shorts and boxers. Up to this point, everything had been frantic and greedy, but now Killian took his time. There wasn’t one inch of her body he didn’t worship, coaxing multiple orgasms out of her before he even entered her. When he did, she was writhing and begging for him, something she never did. She expected him to smirk or laugh at her gasps of “please, please,” but he didn’t. He sank into her slowly, a look in his eyes she had never seen in a man during sex before.

There was a lot about him in bed that shattered everything she thought she knew, and she didn’t know whether to be awed or terrified.

************************************************

The first thought Killian had when he woke up the next morning was that he was colder than he had been before he fell asleep, and he reached out for Emma before he had even opened his eyes. His arms met cold sheets, and he opened his eyes then, puzzled for a moment. Then he heard the shower running, and he relaxed.

A little, anyway.

A lazy smile curled his lips as he thought over the previous night. After making love and cleaning up, Emma had bounced out to the kitchen in nothing but one of his t-shirts, full of energy and flushed smiles. He, on the other hand, was boneless and spent, his chest still heaving.

Emma brought an armload of junk food back to bed, and they had eaten their fill as they talked and laughed. That had been followed by kisses which led to swollen lips, which led to more sex. The second round was rougher than the first, Emma on top, her hair wild and glorious all around him.

He groaned as he buried his face in his pillow, feeling his arousal. He toyed with the idea of joining Emma in the shower, but the water shut off, and he heard the glass door open and shut. As he waited for her, his arousal was replaced with worry as he thought again of last night. He probably shouldn’t have whispered, “I love you” into her skin as he made her come, but she was so bloody glorious, she made it difficult to think straight.

Emma stepped out of the bathroom in her tiny sleep shorts and strappy tank top, rubbing her long hair with a towel to dry it. God, she was gorgeous!

“Morning, love.”

“Good morning,” she said tightly.

He frowned and reached for her. “Come back to bed.”

She shook her head. “I’ve got a lot to do today.”

“On a Sunday?”

She kept her back to him as she tossed the towel to the floor.

“I’ve got that radio interview coming up, remember?”

He sat up, letting the sheets pool around his waist. Emma’s cheeks warmed when she turned back to him, and he gave her his most charming smile.

“Not much you can do to prepare for that.”

She tilted her chin. Uh-oh. “I beg to differ.”

He leapt from the bed before she could reach the door, and he gently grasped her elbow. He drew her close, and she didn’t resist, placing a palm against his bare chest. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, his lips brushing her skin. He could feel her shudder at his touch.

“How about breakfast in bed?”

“I said I’m busy,” she snapped, pushing him gently away and turning to the door. “And put some damn clothes on.”

Killian snatched up a pair of boxers and almost tripped in his haste to put them on. He followed after Emma, finding her filling the coffee pot in the kitchen.

“Emma, we need to talk about last night -”

“I think that was a mistake.”

Killian blinked in shock as he watched her turn away from the sink and pour the water into the coffee maker. Unsurprisingly, she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“A mistake?”

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug as she opened a cabinet to retrieve a mug. “We’re both adults with sexual desires, and last night we succumbed to them.”

He shook his head. “Are you saying it meant nothing to you?”

Cold dread snaked through his bloodstream as Emma pressed her lips together in a thin line. She set the mug down on the counter, filled her coffee mug, and took a leisurely sip.

“Well,” Killian finally said, his voice thick, “it may not have meant anything to you, but it did to me. I meant what I said last night. I love you, Emma Swan. You can run from that, you can ignore it, but you can’t change it. It’s how I feel about you, and I won’t apologize for it.”

He turned away from her then, mumbling about needing a cold shower. When Emma heard the bathroom door slam, she set her mug down with trembling hands, hugged her middle, and wept.

**********************************************

Emma set herself up on the back porch with her laptop to prepare for the radio show she would be on in the next week. She’d been surprised when Regina set it up, thinking of radio as out of touch with her typical audience, but this show was national and its interviews were also released as podcasts. Emma tried to concentrate on the information Ruby had compiled on the show’s host, but she was distracted by the sounds drifting down the short hallway. The house was so small, she could detect each sound and knew what it meant. Killian just shut off the water in the shower. Now he’s closing the glass shower door. That’s the sound of the handles on the bureau as it opens, so he’s probably getting out new boxers and a shirt. Now he shut the bureau . . .

She set down her mug of coffee and wearily rubbed her head. She was far too aware of him, and far too rattled by their fight. She’d only told the truth. They were adults, they were both attractive. This was bound to happen sooner or later living in such small quarters. It didn’t mean anything.

So why was her heart aching?

It may not have meant anything to you, but it did to me . . . I love you, Emma Swan.

Emma groaned. She could tell herself all day long that it was just sex, but Killian had laid all his cards on the table. And she’d promised Mary Margaret she wouldn’t break his heart . . .

“I’m going to the workshop,” Killian muttered as he came out of the bedroom, his hair still damp from his shower.

“Okay,” Emma said hesitantly. He never went in on Sundays. She wondered if she should try to smooth things over, but before she could even gather her thoughts, the front door was slamming shut.

Emma chewed on her lower lip as she turned back to her laptop. It was a beautiful day with a pleasant breeze blowing off the water and the sun warming the porch. She wanted to soak up every moment of it before the weather turned chilly. Yet it may as well have been freezing cold and stormy for the sinking feeling in her chest. She rubbed her eyes as she rose from the patio table. She wandered back into the house, feeling slightly lost.

She noticed her wet clothes from the night before still laying in the middle of the kitchen, so she scooped them up and took them to the laundry room. Then she went into the bedroom to retrieve her shorts and panties and Killian’s shorts and boxers. His t-shirt and all the wet towels were still in a heap on the back porch. Killian was more pissed at her than she’d thought. He usually never left messes like this. Smee seemed to think the laundry gathering was some sort of game, and he followed her around the house barking. Emma dumped all of the clothes, still slightly damp and sandy, into the washing machine.

Looking down at their jumbled, damp clothes, flashes of the night before assaulted her memory. There were images of bare skin, sweat, and moans of pleasure, but there were memories that were more difficult to process. Blue eyes looking at her with such intensity; words whispered against her flesh. I love you.

Emma slammed the lid of the washer shut, then swore aloud when she realized she forgot the damn soap. She opened it again, dumped in some detergent, then started up the wash cycle.

She was just walking out of the laundry room when a knock at the door made her jump. Smee started to bark threateningly, though Emma knew he would be useless if there were an actual intruder.

“What are you gonna do, huh?” She teased the dog. “Slobber them to death?”

Nevertheless, it was comforting to have Smee at her side as she approached the front door. A fall wreath that Elsa had hung the day before blocked Emma’s view out the door’s small window, so she opened it hesitantly. When she saw who it was, she let out a sharp, loud gasp.

“Walsh!”

“Hi, Emma,” he replied in a tone that sounded halfway apologetic.

Emma’s eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together in an angry line. “Are you crazy? Get off my front porch before someone sees you!”

She reached out and practically yanked him inside. Once she had shut the door and turned to face him, his expression had turned to gleeful satisfaction.

“Afraid I’ll blow your little charade to pieces?”

Emma glared at him. “What the hell do you want?”

“What do you think? I love you, Emma. I wanted to marry you! I still do.”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “Really? I thought you were in love with Zelena. Remember her? The woman you left me at the altar for?”

Walsh shook his head. “I was a fool -”

“We can agree on that at least,” Emma snorted.

“Can you just hear me out?”

“I don’t owe you a damn thing, Walsh!”

After Emma shouted, everything went downhill in a blur. Walsh reached out and grabbed her arm, and a second after that, Killian burst through the door. Later, Emma would realize how it must have looked to him - her shouting and then running in to see Walsh grabbing her - but in the moment, it was jarring. One moment Walsh was grabbing her, and the next Killian was flinging the man against the opposite wall.

“Don’t you lay a finger on her!”

“What the hell!” Walsh cried.

“Yeah, what the hell!” Emma protested. “I was about to punch him myself!”

Killian glanced at her, his eyes wide with admiration, his mouth twitched up in appreciation.

“I just came to talk, for God’s sake!” Walsh shouted.

“Get out of our house,” Killian growled.

Walsh adjusted his sports jacket and glared at both of them. He looked first at Emma, then at Killian with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“So you’re fucking him. I wondered.”

Emma lunged forward, but Killian beat her to it, landing a left hook to Walsh’s jaw. The man fell to the ground with the force of the blow.

“I said. Get. Out,” Killian seethed between clenched teeth.

Walsh scrambled to his feet, a hand to his swollen jaw, his jacket askew again, and his hair falling in his eyes like a coward on the playground. He yanked the front door open, but before he walked out, he turned to Emma and sneered at her.

“I’d watch out if I were you, Emma. The truth is going to come out. Sooner rather than later.”

Emma opened her mouth to ask him what he meant by that, but he hurried out the door, slamming it behind him before she could speak. She heard the wheels of his sports car on the gravel drive, then heard the engine rev as he drove away. In his absence, a lead weight seemed to fall between her and Killian.

“Why was he here?” Killian finally asked in a wounded voice.

“The hell if I know!” Emma snapped. “You think I invited him?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” Killian bit out. “I certainly misinterpreted things last night. Now I show up and your ex is here -”

“That’s not fair!” Emma interrupted. “I didn’t ask Walsh to show up, and for that matter, I never asked you to . . . to . . . develop feelings for me.”

“Love you,” Killian clarified boldly. “You never asked me to love you.”

“Okay then!” She shot back, her voice rising. “I didn’t ask you to love me!”

Killian searched her gaze for a moment, and then his shoulders sagged and his head fell forward.

“You’re right,” he finally said quietly. “You didn’t.”

He turned and walked right back out the front door. Emma hugged her torso and wondered stupidly why he’d come home to begin with. She glanced at the clock and saw it was a little past noon. He’d come home for lunch and found Walsh here. She groaned and rubbed her forehead wearily, then she sank with a thud to the couch.

As she buried her face in her hands, she realized with a wave of sadness how much easier it would have been if Killian had kept yelling. Anger was so much easier than this ache in her heart.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Now or Never Now

A/N  Really more of a PSA: drunkenness and unrequited (or unacknowledged) feelings for your roommate aren’t the best of bed fellows.

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Metric that inspired the title and a few lines is here.

May 1, 2018, The Pride of Spitalfields, London, England

If he were forced to account for his twenty-eight years of life, he reckoned he’d made a decent start of things.  It helped to have been born into a loving, boisterous family, cradled in the bucolic nursery garden of the Scottish Highlands.  A good education, good values, a strong sense of duty: these he owed to his parents.  

Since moving to London at twenty-two, he’d begun to weave the advantages of youth into the intentions of adulthood, with varied results.  Failed relationships, the struggles of establishing a career in his uncle’s shadow and the cataclysm of his accident were setbacks, to be sure, but they forged his character in the blast furnace of adversity.  He enjoyed the comradeship of a tight-knit group of colleagues and friends.  Only three months ago, he’d been promoted to Crew Manager at the Bethnal Green station, and he had his eye on a Station Officer post before he turned thirty-five, his ambition to finally break free of Dougal’s influence.  And Claire.  He couldn’t count his blessings without numbering his Sassenach among them.

He performed this annual stock-taking as he walked to his local pub.  It was his birthday, and he was meeting some friends for a celebratory drink.  To absolutely no-one’s surprise except her own, Claire had finished her first year of medical school at the top of her class, and he’d convinced her to join them.

The air was warm and sweet with blossoms as he entered the pub to a rowdy cheer.  His mates had secured two tables near the tiny stage where a three-piece band were setting up.  The party was well underway, and a pint of lager was thrust into his hand before he’d even taken his seat.

He thought he’d been rather surreptitious in checking the door each time it opened, but Hamish slapped him hard on the back and commented in a voice the whole table could hear.

“Yer Sassenach missus willna get here any faster wi’ yer eyes glued tae the door, lad.  Christ, has she got ye whipped!”

He felt the tips of his ears grow warm as the rest of the table laughed and joined in on the good-natured ribbing.  When he looked back up, Claire was standing there shedding her coat.  He momentarily forgot to breathe.  She was wearing black tights and the jean mini-skirt from their first meeting in this very pub, along with a sleeveless, cropped, ruffled confection that he’d definitely never seen before.  She was, quite simply, stunning.  The momentary lull from the rest of the table told him he wasn’t the only one who thought so.  He stood and hastened to greet her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Jamie!” she cried.  “Happy birthday!”  Her arms wrapped around his neck and she leaned in to return his kiss, barely missing his lips.  He could smell whisky on her breath.

“Did ye get a headstart on yer celebratin’, Sassenach?” he asked, both amused and confounded.  Claire hadn’t mentioned any other plans, and it wasn’t like her to drink alone at their flat.

“Aye, I have,” she giggled. “I had a partner in crime.  Look who’s here!”

Claire gestured towards the coat check, where a familiar redhead was flirting with the attendant.  His wame plummeted towards his shoes.

“Geillis,” he greeted as she approached.  “Welcome back tae London.  I didna realize ye were visiting.”

“Aye, we just arrived yesterday.  Happy birthday, fox cub.  Ye look well,” she commented with a smirk.

“As do ye,” he replied politely, glancing quickly at Claire to gauge her reaction, but she was observing the band, who had just begun to play.

“Och, mince,” Geillis replied.  “My arse needed its own baggage allowance, but at least my tits are huge.  Ferget about the bairns, I hadta pry Juan Carlos off ‘em so I could join in yer wee festivities!”

It was comforting to see motherhood hadn’t dampened Geillis’ spirit in the slightest.

“I see the lads are all here,” Claire segued quickly.  “What are we drinking?”

Jamie slid his chair over to make room for the two newcomers.  Before she’d even sat down, Geillis bought a round of shots for the table, to the general delight of his mates.  It was going to be an interesting night.

***

“Com’ dance wit’ me!” Claire yelled in his ear louder than was absolutely necessary.  Several hours had passed, and he’d lost track of the number of pints and shots she’d consumed.  Realizing one of them would need to stay relatively sober, he’d been nursing the same ale for the past hour.

“Claire, I really dinna dance o’ermuch,” he stalled as she dragged him towards the small area between tables where a few other couples were rocking together to a slow ballad.

“Neveryouworry, lad.  I’ll lead.”  Of course you will, he thought fondly.

Instead of leading, Claire literally fell against his chest, allowing his bulk to catch her.  Chilly hands met behind his neck and began teasing his curls where they lay against his nape.  He couldn’t’ help it.  He shuddered.  Drunk, he reminded himself.  She is drunk, she is yer roommate, and she trusts ye.

“Are y’ havin’ a good birthday, Jamie?” she murmured into his clavicle, where her forehead was resting.  He couldn’t help smiling.  He’d once compared her to a lioness, but right now she was doing a fair impression of a dozy kitten, allowing him to sway their bodies side-to-side in complete contradiction to the music’s rhythm.

“Aye.  Aye, I am.  And ye, Sassenach?  Did I mention how proud I am of ye fer acing yer exams?”

The moist air of her chuckle seeped through his shirt.  “Only a dozen times.  Thanks for keepin’ me fed and caffeinated whilst I studied.  I couldinit have done it wi’out you.”

“Twas my pleasure, Sassenach.  We make a braw team.”

He said it offhandedly, but Claire stilled in his arms, leaning back to peer up into his face.  There was something there, behind her slightly glazed eyes, that he’d given up hope of ever seeing.

“We do, don’t we?” she whispered, gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips, before skittering away.  The humid air of the pub seemed to press in on him from all sides, making it difficult to draw a solid breath.  A warning bell began to peel somewhere in his mind, alerting him to the fact he was in very grave danger of making an ass of himself.

She’s no’ yours, lad, he coached himself.  No’ unless she wills it, and she canna know her own mind when she’s hammered.  He tried to divert the conversation to safer territory.

“Tis good tae see Geillis again.  Ye must have missed her somethin’ fierce.”

“Mmmm,” Claire hummed noncommittally.  One of the hands that had been resting behind his neck began to thread through his hair, fingernails scraping lines of pleasure into his scalp.  Christ, that wasn’t helping his cause at all.

“Claire...” he entreated into the scant space between them.  Her long legs had somehow become entangled with his own.  She was practically riding his thigh.  Another few inches, and she was going to come into contact with the only part of him that was enthusiastic about dancing with a beautiful lass.

“I think iz time y’ take me home, James Fraser,” the limpet formerly known as his roommate purred in his ear.  Thank Christ.  Another few minutes of that sultry upright writhing, and he might have taken her right there on the beer-stained table in front of the darts board.

Navigating Claire’s increasingly pliant body towards the door and the salvation of the cool night air, Jamie ran directly into the diminutive roadblock of her best friend.  Pulling him aside, she grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged his head down to her level.

“I ken she’s yer roommate and ye look at her as though she’s the sun after a thousand days o’ rain, but she’s my best friend an’ I love her.  She’s scared, but she trusts ye.  Dinna fuck it up.”

Without awaiting a reply, Geillis spun around and returned to their table.  When he turned towards Claire, she was giving him a peculiar look.  He shrugged it off as nothing more than inebriation, and started the short three-legged stumble back to their flat.

“Ye know, Sassenach, this is twa times I’ve had tae practically carry ye home from tha’ pub.  Ye’re a verra predictable drunk.”  They were navigating Brick Lane with a heavy list to starboard, where Claire leaned heavily into his side.

“First of all, milad, I am. Not. Drunk.  You canned be drunk if y’ can shtill walk upright.  Thas your rule, may I remind you.”  Mid-lecture, the heel of her boot caught between two cobbles. She would have gone down in a heap were he not already bearing most of her weight.  “Ooops!”

“An’ second of all,” she continued undaunted, “when didyu carry me again? Since? Fuck!  Before?”

He chuckled.  If nothing else, Claire was a very amusing drunk.

“Twas the first night we met, actually.  Ye were shipping out tae Afghanistan the verra next day.”

They’d reached their front door.  He was fumbling for his keys when he noticed Claire had gone remarkably silent.  Even in the yellow glow of the hallway, her face was incredibly pale.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?  Are ye gonna be sick?”

What came out of her mouth next was even worse.

“You fucked Geillis.  That night.  In our shower.”

Golden eyes interrogated him, tearing away any hope of evasion.  Gone was the cuddly kitten, and the lioness was on the hunt for blood.  Christ, he was going to kill Geillis for sharing intimate details of their one-night stand.  Assuming he lived to see tomorrow.

She trusts ye.  Dinna fuck it up.

His father had an aphorism he was fond of repeating.  Being an adult has little to do with your actions, he would say, and everything to do with living with the consequences of those actions.   Any callow lad could stick his cock in a lass, but it took a man to live up to his responsibilities thereafter.

“Aye.  I did. Twasn’t planned, nor somethin’ I’m particularly proud of, but thas’ the truth of it.  It didna mean anything, Sassenach.  Twas jus’ sex.”

They were inside the flat now.  He was mentally trying to evaluate whether it was safe for Claire to shower, or if he should simply tuck her into bed with a basin and some Gatorade.  She wasn’t moving, though.   She stood in the streetlight that illuminated their living space, a disheveled, beautiful mess.

“It’s my turn.”  She sounded sober, all of a sudden.  He poured a tall glass of cold water from the sink for her, regardless.

“Yer turn fer what, Sassenach?”

“My turn for you to fuck me.”

There was a hollow thunk and the cool splash of water against the cuffs of his trousers as the glass he had been holding hit the floor.  His chest felt like he was trying to suck cake batter through a straw.  To make matters worse, while he was in the kitchen she had shed her top and was standing in a sheer black bra, the peaks of her nipples cast in silvered shadow.

“Claire...” he breathed out.

She approached slowly, extending a hand to lay over his sprinting heart.

“Don’t you want me?”  Asked by any other woman, the question would be coy, but he heard the truth behind her query.  She really didn’t know.  Either he was a better actor than he gave himself credit for, or she was still seeing him through the filter of her past mistreatment.

“So much tha’ it hurts tae breath, lass.  But ye dinna want this, Claire.  No’ now.” His body was already protesting his declaration, a pulsing ache centered in his balls, but rooted in his heart.

“It’s now or never now, Jamie.  This is all that I have to give.  Isn’t it enough?”

She took his hand and placed it over the scalloped seam of her breasts.  Without volition, his fingers curled, testing the pliant firmness beneath them.  His muscles ached from holding himself in check.

“Tis far more than I deserve, Sassenach.  But the answer is no.” He pulled his hand away, his fingertips still tingling from the velvet of her skin.  “Ye should get some sleep.”

Her glass face showed every emotion, each more painful to witness than the last: hurt, anger, embarrassment, spite, and finally betrayal.  Mumbling a hasty goodnight, she practically ran to her own room.  He could hear her there now, sobs muffled by the wall he placed between them.

Dinna fuck it up.

He cradled his throbbing head in his hands.  How could doing the right thing turn out so horribly, spectacularly wrong?

***

May 21, 2018, Spitalfields, London, England

It has been twenty days since Claire’s drunken proposition, and they’d barely spoken a word to each other in that time.  As much as he was prepared for  awkwardness to descend upon their once-easy relationship, he was shocked by how much her avoidance pained him.  Couldn’t she see that he’d acted out of affection, and as her friend, ignoring the very great temptation she’d lain at his feet?

His first strategy had been to give her space.  He snatched at any excuse to be out of the flat: long runs, a pint after work with the lads, and even a long weekend with his family at Lallybroch.  Each day his phone was a constant weight in his hand, waiting for the moment she would text him about something bizarre she’d read, or call to ask where he’d hidden the olive oil.  She never rang.

Next he tried haunting their flat, planning to bump into her and force that first, clumsy conversation.  He was certain that once they got past that hurdle, they could begin to rebuild their rapport.  Almost certain.  Desperately certain.  She didn’t come home, working double shifts at the hospital and timing her visits for a shower, nap and change of clothes to coincide with his work shifts.  One night he fell asleep on the couch listening for the sound of her key in the door.  He woke the next morning covered in the plaid from his bed, but once again alone.

He sat in an outdoor cafe, watching London unfold under the warming sun like a rose, and considered what he knew about Claire that would help mend the breach.  She was stubborn.  The past twenty days were testimony of that.  She was proud.  She would sooner suffer than accept help.  She held herself to incredibly high standards, and hated to fail at anything.  She would have taken his rejection in the worst possible light.  She’d been badly hurt and deceived.  Their relationship had been one cautious step after another across the tightrope of trust strung between them.  Fueled by drunken emotion, she’d leapt forward, and he had not been there to catch her.

He opened his phone and stared at her photo in his contacts.  She’d been furious with him the day he snapped it.  He’d dragged her to a park on her day off to play rugby, only to find out the match had been cancelled on account of the heavy rain.  Heavy ringlets hung over a soaking jersey, and her glowing eyes promised swift revenge.

A dozen flowery or flippant texts were considered and abandoned before he opted for the simple and true.

I’m sorry.  I know I hurt you, and I want to make it better.  Please tell me how.

He pocketed his phone and crossed the road to the fire station for his evening shift.  If she hadn’t answered by the morning, he’d try again, and keep trying until she finally responded.

Twelve hours later, dawn was just cracking the sky as he prepared to walk home.  The station alarm rang out, but the day crew would take the call.  Even now, they were throwing on their gear and firing up the engine.  

“Corbet Place.  Isn’t that your neighbourhood, Fraser?” the driver commented as he hastened past.

Ice water flushed into his veins.  There were exactly two buildings on Corbet Place, and one of them contained a flat where a beautiful Sassenach was currently sleeping off a double shift.  A beautiful Sassenach who could sleep through a fire alarm.

He hoisted himself into the cab of a departing engine.

“Hey lad, this isn’t a taxi!” one of old hands joked, but sobered when he saw Jamie’s face.

The streets were empty.  They made the trip in record time that felt like an eternity to his racing heart.  As they drew near, the reek of a burning structure filled the air.  A half dozen other engines were parked haphazardly in the adjacent lot, their booms extending like insect antennae towards a cruelly familiar five-story brick building.  Flames licked the corner of one of the lower levels, punctuated by the pop of shattering glass and the skeletal groan of old beams giving way.

Grabbing a spare coat, hat and respirator, he ran towards his building, ignoring every professional protocol and ounce of common sense he possessed.  Claire was in their flat, and there wasn’t a power under the sun that would keep him from getting to her.

“Jamie!”

He spun towards her voice, thinking he might be hallucinating.  But no, sitting on a picnic table, wrapped in his Fraser plaid, was his beautiful Sassenach.   His knees turned to water and he sank to the bitumen at her feet.

“Claire...” he wheezed, adrenaline still coursing through his limbs.

“Were you on your...”

“How did ye...”

They both spoke, then lapsed back into stunned silence.

“Ye’re safe.” He said it as much to himself as to her.  “Ye’re here.  I thought.. when I heard the call... Christ, Sassenach.  I’ve never been sae scared in my entire life.  How did ye get out?”

“I got your text.  I was dozing on the couch, waiting for you to come home so we could talk.  The fire alarm woke me.  There was already so much smoke.  I used your plaid to cover my nose and mouth and ran down the fire escape.  Oh Jamie, I’m so sorry.”

Claire’s chin fell towards her chest, a lone tear streaking through the soot that marked her cheek.  He ran a shaking hand through her unbound hair.

“Why are ye sorry, Sassenach?”

“All your things.  Your memories.  They were all in that flat.”

He tilted her up by the chin.

“Claire, look at me.  There isn’t a feckin thing in tha’ flat that I care about that isna sitting in front of me right now.  Jesus, woman, do ye no’ ken the thought of losing ye tears out my guts?”

She looked deeply into his eyes, peering into his very soul.  For once, he did not think to hide behind a mask.  Let her see how she utterly destroyed and remade him.  All around them, the world faded to smoke.

“You... you love me?”

Nownownow.

“Aye.  I do.”

[choco-glow]

Fall Like Rain On Sunday, Pt. 2

They’d agreed to meet up at four in the afternoon after a quick run back to their respective apartments to shower and change out of their patrol gear, and Steph bit her lip as she tugged the towel a little tighter around her chest, wondering just what would be best to wear out. She’d asked Jason for an idea of what might be best, thinking he’d probably want to go clubbing (their usual whenever Dick and Kate were in town) or go to barhopping (Roy and/or Artemis), but he’d paused, giving her question serious thought as he stopped the motorcycle outside her apartment building.

“Honestly? Wear something comfortable to walk around in, if you’re up for it? I…wanted to do something a little different. Kinda celebrate the weather, y’know?” And she did know…He’d been blushing at that, sweet and shy and a little more school boy, a little less sexy asshole, and she’d hopped off and given him a kiss on the cheek, beaming at the butterflies in her tummy. “Oh…”

“Alrighty, that sounds good. Make sure you’re the same?” She almost asked, but Steph decided to add a little more weight to that one; ninety percent of the time, Jason would pull off his armor and change tee shirts, but otherwise, it was always the black/gray camo pants, the tan jacket, and a black shirt. Every. Single. Time. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hot as fuck, but I know damn good and well the man has more in his closet than just that. Jason had been a mob boss himself for a time, and she still lusted over the thought that some day, she might see him in the black and red suits…But for today?

Today was casual cute, for both of them.

“Deal, only fair. I’ll be back at four, okay?”

“Sounds good; are we going on your bike?”

“Actually, I had a different plan for transportation, if that’s okay?” She nodded, actually a bit relieved, and he beamed, then leaned in and kissed her, full on the lips…and oh, that made those butterflies burst into life all over again. She’d floated up to her apartment in a daze, and after a quick pause to do her dishes (just in case, y’know, she might have company later) and a shower, she’d put up her hair in a curly soft messy pony, bangs fluffed out and cute, then followed that up with some classic make up. A touch of mascara, a wickedly sharp wing on each eye’s liner, a brush of purple eyeshadow, then rosy red (because why not make sure he knew she was interested too?), then a soft pale pink to brighten  just under her eyebrows.

Rose red lipstick completed the look, and she grinned a little, feeling vintage and sexy and cute, then strolled out, still in her towel, to peruse her clothes. After a long conference with herself, she was left with three possibilities. All were cute; all were comfy, and only one required a heel higher than an inch to look fabulous in. That one, the bodycon dress in deep amaranthine, she put away after a long look; it was super cute, but definitely more club than ‘about town’. She also decided against the denim short-shorts and purple crop top; not quite the look she was going for, to be honest, and as pretty as the shimmery crop top was, it might actually be too cool for today.

That left her with the dress she’d bought a month ago, and she smiled as she undid the buttons on the front of the bodice, pulling out a matching set of lingerie in dark red to put on first. She’d found it in a shop just outside the Narrows, and lusted over it for weeks before working up the courage to go in. Thankfully, the woman who ran the shop was from a similar background, and rather than most boutiques, who looked at Steph’s eclectic style and judged, this lady had helped her pick out the right size dress, a cute pair of kitten-heels to go with it, and even a shawl to match. Purple linen, with black polka dots, soft and cool against her hand, made up a lovely day-dress with a sweetheart neckline, fluttery cap sleeves, and a lovely, knee-length, full skirt. With pockets.

And it was easy to step into, sliding up her hips with a whisper of linen on her skin, buttoning with no gaping (which, from experience, Steph could tell anyone was a fuckin’ miracle.) Steph stepped into the matching heels, and gathered up a cute flowered handbag she’d picked up at the thrift store that rather accented her new dress, matched some studs to the color of the dress, and pulled the wide-brimmed sunhat out of her closet, giggling as she spun in her mirror, feeling cute and happy and just…girlish in a way that she’d never felt. Even when she was a little girl…

Thankfully, a knock sounded at the door, rapping in the familiar Bat-pattern they’d all been taught, knocking her melancholy out of orbit and Steph glanced at her phone. 3:58…I love a man who’s never late. She happily danced her way to the door, and when she opened it…Stephanie Brown froze, jaw dropping.

Because standing at her door, holding a bouquet of purple roses (and where the fuck did he find  PURPLE roses, of all things?!) was Jason Peter Todd, looking as starstruck as she felt, dressed down in a pair of soft gray jeans that hugged his glorious thighs and ass, a pair of slightly battered red Converse, and a red cotton button down over a soft black tank top, buttoned up almost all the way, but left free on the last two buttons, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his shirt tucked in, wonder of wonders…She felt herself start to drool a little, and snapped out of it with difficulty, because UNF.

“Oh…Jase…are those for me?” He suddenly snapped back to himself too, looking absolutely adorable as he blushed and nodded.

“Oh, uh, yeah…Thought you might like these, given that your favorite color is pretty much a dead giveaway.” He grinned as she laughed, the ice between them melting once more into easy friendship, and she took the flowers, beckoning him inside as she pulled a vase out of her cupboard. She smiled to see him looking around with interest at her books, her game systems, even her tentative bits of crochet with the soft yarns she’d bought months ago, and still hadn’t quite finished.

“…See something you like?” He blushed, glancing up from reading the back of one of her fantasy books, and grinned sheepishly as she finished putting the last of her roses in their new home. They smelled so so good, and already were opening up, and she hugged her arms to herself shyly as she walked back to him. Jason shelved the book with infinite care, and his eyes seemed to warm even more, his smile creasing his eyes in all the ways she’d always loved in her fantasy guys.

“I do indeed…you look…God, you look absolutely amazing in that dress, you know that? It’s so fuckin’ cute.”

“You look amazing in that shirt and those jeans…I mean it!” He turned away, blushing at that, looking shy now, and she caught his hands in hers, blue eyes trained on his. “Seriously. It’s a good look.”

“…Thank you.” He murmured, smile returning to his lips, and she took a risk, rising up on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed her back, just as soft and sweet, and Steph didn’t know if she wanted to go out after all; this was…this was really nice. Jason pulled back, though, and she sighed a little, making him chuckle as he wrapped an arm gently around her waist. “Believe me, babe, I hate to stop kissing you, but I did make us some nice plans for dinner, if you’re still up for it?”

“Oh? What might dinner be?” He grinned at that, so much more in his own comfort zone now, and nodded his head to the west, where the sun was starting to lower in the sky, just a little.

“Care to let me surprise you?” Steph smiled, and put her arm around his waist in return, scooping her handbag up again.

“I suppose I can, this one time…” She rolled her eyes and he laughed, letting her lock and close the door before guiding her to the stairs, and walking down them in time with her, which, given his longer legs, was definitely something she appreciated.

“I promise, you won’t be disappointed.” As they walked out of the building, Steph was surprised to see a nice, large red truck waiting for them, and Jason’s hand up into the cab was just as nice as the interior, though it wasn’t leather, thankfully, but comfy heavy cotton seats. Dark grey with white accents, made it look a little more typical while still appealing to his color scheme, and Steph wasn’t surprised to spot a very, very well hidden (but not if you’re a Bat) gun compartment just under the dash. He gave her a worried look when he realized where her eyes were looking, but she met Jason’s worry with a smile, and kissed his cheek.

“You know me, Jase; I’m not gonna lecture you.” Jason’s tension melted away at that, and he chuckled, turning on the truck and backing neatly out of the space.

“I should, by now; but I still…panic, I guess? Too many years of being lambasted by B.”

“Don’t I know it…but…eh, we both grew up here. We both know what really stops criminals.” She murmured, and he breathed an ‘Amen’ at that, his right hand gently squeezing her left hand as he drove them towards the livelier market side of the bay.

“Still, I appreciate your…I guess, kindness? Tact?” Steph just smiled, twining her fingers with his, and grinning a little when his big thumb began to rub circles in the side of her hand.

“Let’s go with understanding.” She replied softly, and he gave her a flash of a smile and a squeeze.

“Deal.”