#funny thing is I’ve only had two cavities ever and a second set of of my child teeth

[catboyelimgarak]

sorry for teeth analysis, I think because my teeth are bad from never brushing as a kid, I’m a bit jealous but also curious about how teeth look if they catch my eye of interest

[twelfth-harbinger]

Hello, I hope you're doing great! ^^ Could I request a Kaeya x male Reader, where the reader is a thief and Kaeya cathes him and teaches him a lesson (nsfw)

A/n: I live for this shit. This is...kind of kinky so.. & I wrote this at 4am. Listening to: Throat babyyyyyy

Mentions: Blowjobs, Denial, Teasing... blowjobs.

Warnings: Nsfw Face fucking at its finest, A very dominant Kaeya.

The King of Thieves

Kaeya left Angel’s Share for the night. Dark cheeks tinted a dusty deep red from a night of indulgence. Diluc was there, tending the bar coincidentally.

“There have been a plethora of incidents revolving around thieves as of late. I suggest you be mindful when leaving for the night Kaeya.”

His younger brother’s light warning drifted back into the depths of his mind as he strolled the nearly vacant streets of Monstadt’s city. Of course, on his way back to headquarters; the Knight took the long way around. Cutting through a specific alleyway that lead to a patch of grassy plains above a stone stair case. Out the corner of his eye he saw a shadow zip by and over the short roof top of someone’s home. As he moved to take a precautionary step backwards the shadow figure landed behind him. Assuming Kaeya was drunk enough to one up, the figure moved in to grab Kaeya’s shoulder in efforts to flip him onto his back and steal his vision. Kaeya, in a rebuttal too quick for this thief’s skill set. Side stepped and ducked, only to elbow his assailant in the chest cavity and then reappear behind them with his sword drawn.

“Why is Diluc always right?” Kaeya sighed, a frown on his face as he stared at the person in front of him, whom he had knocked the wind right out of. He wasn’t sure who the person was, given they were covered from head fo toe in all black. When Kaeya saw that they were recovering he twirled his sword, knocking them unconscious with the hilt of his blade. When the thief dropped, Kaeya looked down at them. He moved to uncover their face and saw a young man. He saw, you? His eye went wide, you were not much older than Diluc. The young Knight couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see such wasted potential resort to something of a scoundrel at best. He threw your arm over his shoulder, picking you up with a deep exhale. Effortlessly carrying you off back to one of the empty confinement cells within the knights headquarters. The one he picked out had been out of use for quite some time, given Klee had blown it up rendering the cell unlivable (for her). — It was a perfect place for a thief, especially one that tried to steal his vision.

Kaeya sat on the edge of a small table in the corner of the room, arms crossed and a light frown on his face. He waited until you had come through and regained consciousness. In a panic, your dark eyes darted across the room. Something Kaeya found quite amusing.

“Where..am I?” You huffed out, there was a draft in the room and you visibly shivered. Kaeya stayed seated looking at you.

“In the Knights of Favonius’ HQ, a confinement cell to be more precise.” He replied nonchalantly and as you tried to move, chains rattled against your wrists and ankles.

“Let me out of here, else you’ll be sorry—“

You were cut off by Kaeya’s abrupt laugh, it made you frown and your brow crease. “What’s so fuckin’ funny?” Kaeya’s chuckle faded into a sigh, his finger tapping idly on the bicep of his crossed arms.

“Nothing, it’s just you are in no position to talk. In fact, I bet if I did away with you right here I could get away with it.” His smile may have been playful but his eye hinted at something much darker.

“You.. can’t do that, you’re an honor bound knight it would be a disgrace—“ Kaeya smiled, this time it wasn’t playful but it still held amusement.

“Relax I’m not a barbarian. Why don’t you tell me why you tried to rob me in the middle of an alleyway and most interestingly... try to take my vision.” After Kaeya stated his questions there was a stagnant silence that sat in the stale air of the confinement cell. Kaeya looked down at you, who shifted uncomfortably. “Oh? No answer? Are you sure that’s what you wish to do?” Your eyes drifted over to look up at Kaeya. Who moved from his spot on the table to walk towards you. In the dim light of the cell his features illuminated, it may have been the full moon that peeked through the barred window that made him look so appealing. The sound of his boots tapping down on the stone floors of the cell sent a slight chill down your spine. He towered over you as you sat on the floor. A light smirk threatened the corner of his lips, as he stared down at you with a quizzical eye. The air around him was cool and it seemed to get even colder as he knelt down to eye level. “I think I’ll give you until the count of say- three.” He held up three fingers before putting them down.

“What?”

“One.” He moved his hand behind your head almost as if he was cradling you. Unbeknownst to you his sword appeared in his palm. Your side profile reflected off the blade as it drew near your head. “Two.” His voice was deep and melodic and his tone evermore serious as he counted down. He wasn’t smiling anymore, seeing him this serious started giving you second thoughts about keeping your mouth shut. He was so close you could smell him, eye half lidded as he stared down at you and a crease in his brow. Against the back of your neck your hair brushed against the blade that dangerously kissed the skin of the nape of your neck. He leaned in and as he drew near, a light grin forming at his lips. Was he enjoying the reaction he was getting out of you? Or the interrogation process? Your hand pressed against his chest to try and move him back you couldn’t stand to have him that close. He paused for a split second, his eye dropping down to your hand, it was warm. “Thre-“

“Wait!” You say, your dark eyes shifting up to peer into his. Staring at him this closely, being able to smell him. It was hard not to think about the things you wanted him to do to you while sitting helpless on the cell floor. He was ridiculously attractive and equally as intimidating when he wished to be.

“Hm? Did you change your mind?” He asked, flashing a cold smile. Your cheeks flushed, he smelled like the first snow fall of winter, shamelessly it made blood rush to where you didn’t need it to. His eyes drifted down briefly before he looked at you more closely. “Or maybe you didn’t?” He purred lightly and a smile crossed his face again.

“I-I..I was just.. curious as to what it’s like to have a vision I don’t have one.” You spoke out, Kaeya didn’t sense a lie from you. Even as you continued to try and make him feel sorry for you. “I haven’t been blessed by the Archons. I’m poor and I...I can’t do much of anything let alone use a vision. Being a thief is all I’ve ever known. The only way I know to survive. I wasn’t going to hurt you.” His brow creased as you babbled that last part, you caught yourself and spoke sheepishly. “Not..that I could’ve anyway—“ Kaeya laughed again, he moved back but not very far. His sword disappeared in one swift movement and he took a minute to look at you. Your hands moved over to your lap, you didn’t think he noticed.

“What am I going to do with you hm?” He pondered aloud as he stood up, a hand resting on his hip. He stared down at you, “You assaulted me in an alleyway, tried to rob me and now..” You couldn’t help but think it wasn’t much of an assault, you were the one who got hit square in the chest and knocked unconscious after all.

“Kaeya-“

“And you know who I am? You’re quite the bold thief. Tell me if I let you go, how do I know you won’t do it again?” You shifted uncomfortably, nothing he was saying was arousing but, truthfully you fell victim to his charm the moment he began questioning you, not to mention the count down and intimidation attempt. Kaeya noticed, he was quite observant but he was doing his job- for the most part.

“I won’t.” You lied, he saw right through it. Kaeya crossed his arms again, if he felt any remorse for you before it was gone now. You avoided eye contact with him even as he stared down at you.

“Do you like being chained up in a cell, you’re excited.” He asked genuinely, his voice was soft and curious. It made you twitch uncomfortably. You shook your head and Kaeya tilted his. “Really? Your as hard as this stone floor, I wasn’t going to tease you about it but it only...fed into every words I’ve said to you thus far.” You could hear him smile, you made the mistake of looking up at him. He was gorgeous and the blush that crossed your face made his smile widen.

“I..can’t help how you’re making me feel. You’re just-“

“I’m just what?” He cut you off, moving his hand to rest on the top of your head. He gently ran his fingers through your hair with his gloved palm. Idly moving his hand down to the back of your head before gripping the ends of your hair between his fingers. “Were you going to say charming? Sexy, hot?” He asked, his grip on your hair wasn’t that tight or painful it aroused a light whimper to fall from your lips. Kaeya noticed your hand palming your growing erection — your pants were growing tighter you couldn’t help it. With his boot he kicked your hand away and stepped on the back of your hand, causing the restraints he had you in to rattle against the stone floor. “You did something bad why should you gain pleasure after committing a crime? As I see it I’m the victim here. You assaulted me in an alleyway.” His grin was wide and with his free hand he moved to unzip his pants. Immediately your mouth began to water as he slipped his hand inside to touch himself right before your very eyes.

“I-I won’t do it again..” You lied once again and he saw through it yet again. His grin only widened, he was going to enjoy this.

“I don’t believe you, therefore...” His grip tightened in your hair and he pulled your head back. “I think I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.” The weight he had on your hand increased when he saw you try to move your other hand to slip inside your own pants, it was a warning not to try and relieve yourself. You moved your hand away with a whine as Kaeya freed himself from the tight confines of his trousers. His thick member prodded against your cheek before he let it rest on your lips. He let out a light and playful hum as he stared down at you, almost as if he was beckoning you to open your mouth.

“Kaeya I-“ As soon as you opened your mouth he pushed himself inside, the taste of his pre made you shudder and your eyes flutter. He held your hair and head firmly in place as he thrusted deeper into your mouth. He was genuinely surprised that you were able to take him all the way to the back of your throat.

“It’s not polite to speak with your mouth full.” He teased. “Go on, keep stuffing your face thief.” As you struggled to swallow his cock, you couldn’t stop your hand from reaching down to palm the hard tent in your pants. Kaeya caught wind of your actions and knocked your forearm to the side with his other boot. The deep groan you let out reverberated against his shaft, Kaeya had to bite back his own moan as he pulled your hair again which inevitably moved your head back so your lips wrapped around his tip. “If you do it again you’ll regret it.” He wasn’t smiling when he spoke, it was a threat you weren’t going to see through to the end. Kaeya chuckled lightly and moved his free hand down to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing sweetly against your cheekbone. “You’re so obedient...”

He mumbled, his touch was gentle as he moved his hands up to tangle in your hair. It was almost too gentle and had you questioning his motives. You made eye contact with him and a sly grin spread across his face like wildfire. Without warning his grip tightened to hold your head in place. He slammed hips against your face, bottoming out completely in the back of your tight throat. He groaned out quietly and under his breath, as the ridges of your throat and mouth constricted against his thick shaft. Your soft lips tickled the underside of the base of his cock. His pants sagged and his balls pressed against the stubble of your chin, which only edged him on and reflexively urged his hips to thrust against your face. He exhaled with a light chuckle that sifted through the quiet air of the confinement cell.

You whimpered, drooling all over his cock as you squeezed your eyes shut, it took everything in you not to milk and pump your shaft. Your balls were heavy and full and you ached for a release that you didn’t think you’d get. Kaeya looked down on you to subconsciously check to see if you were okay and to see the sight of his dick disappearing down your throat. He pulled back by a few centimeters and you successfully breathed in through your nose. The taste of his pre on your tongue reminded you of a fermented apple wine. None too surprising to say the least and all the more enjoyable.

Kaeya rutted into your mouth again, you choked and he chuckled. He felt your tongue swirl around his shaft against a prominent vein that curved up from the base of his cock. Your leg twitched in need as he moved, beginning a rough and steady rhythm. He noticed the bulge in your throat, it only made him move faster. Kaeya let out deep exhale and a light moan that was simply music to your ears. His head tilted back as you took him, he glanced down at you for a moment and his lips curled into a smile seeing you hard at work.

“If your mouth is this tight, I wonder how your ass must feel.” He teased you, moving one hand down to wipe away that inevitable tears that formed in your eyes. His other hand loosened in your hair but still rested in place idly. He pulled back completely, giving you a chance to breathe. As you caught your breath Kaeya looked down at you, the blush that stained your cheeks inflated his ego a bit. He arched a brow, waiting for you to keep going.

You gave into that cute, suggestive stare and moved your hand up to stroke him; something you wanted to do for yourself since he started fucking talking. You dragged your tongue along the thick length of his member before taking him into your mouth. What you didn’t choke down, you pumped with your hand. Kaeya finally let out a proper moan it was deep and breathy, he started throbbing in your mouth and palm; biting down on his lower lip in ecstasy. In the midst of milking him dry he took hold of your hair again, only to push himself right back down your throat, he needed that tight fit to finish him off. You were going to swallow it all, not that you minded; he was as inebriating as Everclear. As he filled your throat and mouth, he pulled back his warm cum dripping down your chin. He watched you reach up to wipe it away and lick the back of your hand.

His eye drifted down to your continually throbbing erection, he noticed a dark spot where your own pre had ruined your trousers. He stepped back and moved his hand away from your hair, shifting as he pulled his pants up only to zip them up. Your expression was absolutely priceless in his eyes. You opened your mouth to speak to find that your jaw was already sore from his earlier actions. Kaeya moved to sit on the edge of the table again with a light smile on his face.

“What?” He says like he didn’t just pump his seed down your throat. He made an ‘O’ with his mouth as he looked at your disheveled and needy appearance as if he had forgotten. He didn’t. He moved to toss you a key to the restraints you were in. “You’re free to go and...do something about that.” He smiled with a teasing glint in his eye, you looked at the key in front of you. Picking it up with a frown on your face as your freed yourself. “I told you I’d teach you lesson you wouldn’t forget.” He chuckled moving to cross his arms over his chest. You looked at him and he smirked.

“Asshole.” You mumbled, moving to stand up, Kaeya looked your way not feeling remorseful in the slightest.

“You do realize you tried to assault me and steal my vision. I think I let you off rather easy if you ask me. Going straight to Jean just didn’t feel right.” He quipped, and stood to walk over to the door opening it up for you to go. “I don’t want to see you here again, I’d rather the Cat’s Tail or Angel share preferably. Maybe then you’d get a proper..reward and the aftercare I so graciously give to those who listen.” He said, completely insinuating he wanted to see you again under the right circumstances. With a pout you exited the cell, there wasn’t really much you could say to that. You were indeed happy you didn’t have to spend the night in a dingy unlivable cell. Kaeya leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. “Till we meet again King of Thieves.”

Bonus

A week went by, you were at Sara’s sitting down to a late night meal before heading off to Springvale for a few days to visit family. You poked at the fisherman’s toast you ordered, thinking about the Knight who left you thoroughly frustrated. You wanted to beat his ass in all honesty but, apart of you just wanted to—

“Well if it isn’t The King of Thieves.”

[battlemaiden13]

With the beach and the swim top question- Syrup but he doesnt know what to do and acts stupid is immaculate, awkward Syrup is literally my jam, my bread and butter, I feed off of it. Do you perhaps have any other headcannons or lil stories/scenarios that you have stuck in your head about syrup but awkward and funny? It can be general stories about his life or crush stories.

13: I think this is the best thing I think I've done ever.

He’s always going to panic when it comes to you. He's just very good at hiding it for the most part. He can’t exactly help it. It’s one of the only times he has emotions and sometimes they just come on so strong that he can’t think straight.

First time he woke up with you in his arms was before you were dating. Without thinking he roughly pushed you off of the bed/couch and you landed on the floor with a loud thump. He knows that he probably trapped you in his sleep but seeing your face so close to his made him panic and push you off the bed,

Again before the two of you were dating you ran into each other in a coffee shop. Syrup was picking up a coffee for his brother and you rocked up. You said something that caught him off guard and he ended up fumbling with the coffee and spilling it over his top before making a quick exit. He had some nasty burns on his ribs after that one.

The two of you were making out on the couch and Syrup (on top) forgot his surroundings, focusing too much on you so he went to roll over slightly so he could get a better angle to make you moan but ended up falling completely off the couch leaving you to laugh from where you were

Doesn’t know if you're into monsters or not so he makes an online dating profile to get to know you only to have you fall for the dating profile and you to ask him for advice about what to do about it.

Just came home from either a night of stalking you or hurting someone who hurt you, you don’t know about his yandere side yet but he can hear you coming up the stairs but he still has his kit bag in his arms. He ends up panicking and throwing it out the window only for the window to be closed and it to shatter.

Again you say something that takes him by surprise, this time he was drinking maple syrup and ended up laughing, the thick liquid coming back up through his nasal cavity and some even made it to his eye sockets. It was very uncomfortable.

He’s in your bedroom, just gathering some information when you come home unexpectedly. He panics before choosing to hide behind the door. When you throw it open it hits him square in the skull but he has to stay quiet. The rest of the night is him picking terrible hiding spots only to have you almost find him or him getting hurt.

You pick up his phone one day to look something up, Syrup said you could but in a split second the skeleton remembers that he was writing the fanfic he writes about the two of you and he didn’t close it so he leaps over the couch to slap the phone out of your hand with no explanation as to why

You’ve seen him pour a mother energy drink into a triple shot black coffee and down it in one. When asked why he never has a good answer.

On multiple occasions has panicked when you entered a room or he’s heard your voice and he wasn’t expecting you causing him to quickly try to leave only to crash into a door, wall or the person standing right behind him.

If you say you’ll call or text him later, after a day of hanging out, he will spend the rest of that day pacing around anxiously awaiting for his phone to go off and trying to think of every single scenario of how this conversation will go only to have a complete blank when you do get into contact with him.

The two of you are out and haven’t said goodbye but it’s obviously time to part ways, Syrup awkwardly follows after you not realising that it’s time for him to leave until you say goodbye and he feels super embarrassed about it.

When he is super tired he has a tendency to not pay close attention to his surroundings which has caused him to backhand or elbow a few people in the face when he moves his arms.

His brother once tasked him and their Undyne with the task of removing a palm tree, the two thought it’d be a good idea to set the leaves on fire and just burn it down, this quickly got out of control.

Some monsters were required to take some classes when joining the surface, Syrup had accidentally found himself in the wrong class and instead of just not going back for the next class he attended the whole semester and they only found out when handing out the last exam when he wasn’t on the list. He was just stubborn.

Before you knew about his yandere side, and it was acceptable for him to have photos of you around the house he would awkwardly leap over furniture and stop you from going into places as he hid the photos he had of you scattered around the place.

The two of you are walking and you end up tripping. Syrup doesn’t hesitate to reach out to stop you from falling over but unfortunately he miscalculates and instead of you falling over he ends up face planting into the sidewalk.

Will do basically anything if dared, not many people know that but you once dared him to drink soft drink and mentos at the same time and were horrified when foam came out of his eye sockets but he won the dare.

Has no self control when it comes to sweets so if there are any around they will be gone very quickly and he doesn’t take into consideration quantity so there have been a few times he’s put himself into a sugar coma.

[detroitbydark]

Fox and Mouse Finale 2/2

Chapter 14

Part 1/2 can be found here

Characters: Commander Fox x Mouse (reader), and more Jedi/clones/politicians than you can shake a stick at.

Summary: Yearning and Fluff and SMUT! Oh my! 

Rated: M 18+

A/N: Ladies and Lads this is it! A chapter so stupid long it required it be split in two pieces. I'm not going to make you wait and I'll be posting both this evening. I'm feeling really sentimental because this is the longest thing I've ever written and completed. I couldn't have done it without y’all. Your support and comments have helped me get through the tough periods of writing and the stress in my life as of late. This is for you guys! Thank you. I love you!

Special thanks as always to @skdubbs and @crimson-dxwn for being there to listen to me and help me every step of the way. You are both absolutely amazing!

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

Fox’s head is reeling, but he feels like he’s holding it together well. He’s pretty sure she can’t feel the shaking in his hand as she takes it and drags him to his feet. Her smile is soft and comforting. It’s home. Mouse is home.

His bucket is left on to rest on the blanket as she leads him through the grass. Wildflowers press into the plates of his armor, leaving yellow smears of pollen in their wake. Mouse looks over her shoulder as they go. Fox wonders if she feels the same way he does, like this is all a dream that will be over the second he wakes. That he’s desperate to stay under its sway just a little while longer.

“Come on Al’verde,” she teases, “I feel like I’m dragging a ton of duracrete. Pick up your feet.”

Fox yanks her hand and she stumbles back toward him, hands colliding with his chest as she breaks into a fit of laughter so honeyed and sweet it would make the bees jealous. She rolls up onto the balls of her feet and kisses his chin, then the tip of his nose. If the boys could see him now, grinning down at her like a fool in love, like a man who didn’t have the weight of a thousand suns on his shoulders.

“Stop trying to distract me. I told you I want to show you something,” she says, pulling away before he can get his lips on hers.

She leads him toward the small pool of water he’d passed coming to find her, where twin waterfalls keep the water bubbling and a fine mist of droplets in the air. They cling to her hair and weigh down the thin fabric of her dress, highlighting the soft curves he was denying himself.

“Where are you taking me, little Mouse?”

She doesn’t answer, instead flashing that enigmatic smile again and leading him to a rock wall that shot up suddenly from green pasture and up into the sky. The sound of water is loud, not quite deafening but definitely distracting. Mouse lets loose his hand and slips in between a gap in the slab wall. He is a far bigger fan of his cyar’ika than he is of tight spaces, but it still gives him a moment's hesitation, finally broken by her teasing voice calling his name.

It’s dark, damp with moisture clinging to the walls that press in on him, but again, before they begin to close in around him, he hears her voice call to him and he follows it like a beacon. In reality the passage is short and opens quickly into a larger cavity. Light spills in and his eyes have barely adjusted before Mouse is pressing into him. Fox stumbles back a half step and laughs as he leans down, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. Mouse rests her head against his shoulder as he takes in his surroundings.

“I found it my first week here” she says softly. He nearly doesn’t hear her over the sound of rushing water. It wasn’t a true cave so much as it was an alcove behind one of the twin falls. “The flow has eased off as the rains have. When I first came I couldn’t even hear myself think. I think maybe that’s what I liked about it.”

Fox knows the feeling well, remembers throwing himself into his work to try to forget.

“Did it help?” Work hadn’t helped for him, nor had sparring with Hound, hitting the blaster range with Ryk, or any of the other half dozen things he’d done to push thoughts of her away.

Mouse offers him a sad smile before turning and walking toward the edge of the cave and reaching out letting water splash over her finger tips. “No.”

He can’t hold her gaze. Instead his eyes rove, search for something to focus on other than her and the feeling of failure that wells up on him. Mouse hadn’t been the only explorer to find the secret cave. Names are etched into the rock walls. Sets of initials added together, hearts and promises and small bits of flowery poetry of different ages. Generation upon generation of infatuations, puppy loves, lust, and tenderness written into stone for all eternity.

“Fox? You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”

The nearness to the falls has only made the cling of fabric to her skin worse. The pale blue is nearly sheer in parts and Fox tries not to focus on the way it sticks to her legs, outlines their shape. “Do what?”

“Feeling bad for me? Feeling bad for you? Take your pick.” Her voice is teasing but her eyes belay the seriousness underlying her words. “Don’t. It’s as easy as that, right? Just stop.” She beckons him with a small wave of her fingers.

“Come here so I can show you what’s so special.”

Fox closes the distance between them as she turns back to the rushing water. His body slots in behind hers. His hands circle her hips and he frowns again at just how much weight she lost.

Her fingers, cooled by the running water, reach back over her shoulder and cup his cheek. “I know it’s hard,” she says, all teasing gone, “but we’re going to do this together.”

“Communication,” he whispers quietly. “It’s important,” he clarifies. Mouse nods, her head falling back to rest against his chest.

“I’m going to communicate this then -I don’t now, nor have I ever blamed you for what has transpired. You’re no more at fault than I am.”

“But you’re not at fau-“ he stops abruptly. “I see what you're saying, but it’s easier to say than to believe.”

“Fake it until you make it.”

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh working its way past his lips before he leans forward and kisses the hair at the top of her head.

“That easy?”

“Was anything worth it ever easy?” she asks softly.

The simple answer was no. It all took work. It had taken nearly a year for him to kiss her for the first time, hadn't it?

“Fake it ‘til I make it,” he repeats, and he can feel as much as he can hear the contented hum she makes.

“Exactly. Now, what time have you got?” The sudden change of subject has him raising a brow and his vambrace up to look at the built in chrono. He rattles off the time and she makes another contented sound.

“Perfect timing. Now watch.” She stares out into the falling water. He’s nearly ready to ask what he’s watching for when a change in the light hits the droplets just right. Rainbows are thrown across the inside of the cave. Some steady, like the continuous fall of water, some here and gone as the stream is broken. He’s never seen anything like it. It’s stunning. Mouse leans back into his chest. The armor isn't comfortable to rest on but it doesn’t seem to bother her. He wishes it wasn’t between them.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

It is.

A small laugh bubbles from her lips as she turns and her fingers trace the strays colors flickering at his temple. One hand rests over his heart. She’s happy and in his arms and the moment is perfect.

“Marry me.”

The words slip from his lips faster than credits from a gamblers hands on Canto Bight.

Mouse startles, pulls back and then her foot is coming out from under her and her arms go to grabbing, finding purchase on one of his. Her weight, however slight, combined with his surprise are enough to drag him forward with her as the pair falls through the rushing water and immediately into the pool below.

Mouse comes up laughing and sputtering. Her teeth set to chattering almost instantly. Fox doesn’t find it nearly as funny, even less so when Mouse’s eyes fall on him and peals of laughter escape her til she can barely breathe. He’s cold and he can’t believe he asked that question.

“You look like an angry tooka!” she barely manages to get out as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m all wet.”

Mouse rises to her feet. The pool is shallow and only comes up to her hips. Her dress has gone sheer and leaves nothing to the imagination as she splashes water at her grumpy paramour. “So am I.”

His hair hangs nearly to his brows, pasted down against his forehead. Mouse squeals as his eyes narrow and he lunges for her. She barely gets away from his first attempt, but is far to slow for his second. He hauls her into his arms and holds her close.

“Gotcha.”

Mouse squirms and laughs in his grip but she isn’t really trying to get away. She only manages to give him a better look at the curve of her breasts and the pale shadow of peaked nipples through it.

“Don’t do it,” she warns.

Fox smiles, aiming for innocence but failing miserably. “Do what? Do…. this?”

He falls back, dragging her with him into the cold clear pool. Water clings to her lashes as they both come up gasping and laughing. He nearly apologizes but Mouse’s lips are on his, her hands at either side of his head.

Where her lips are cold, her tongue is warm and welcome as it strokes along his own. Suddenly the water doesn’t seem so cold, his soaked blacks underneath the layer of composite armor doesn’t chafe so much. It’s easy to forget the world exists outside of the pair of them and the soft sounds she’s making at the back of her throat and the equally needy moans she’s pulling from him.

He buries his face in her neck when she pulls back, nipping and sucking to reacquaint himself with all the sweet spots and equally enticing sounds they produced.

“Are we going to do this here?” She pants out his question from earlier. The want in her voice mirrors the one he felt.

“Kriff…” He manages to drag his mouth away from her wet skin. One arm around her waist secures her to him as he lets the rest of her body slide back into the water. He chuckles at her hiss as the cold envelopes her again.

“Ok. New plan-“

“Your room or mine?”

————

There’s going to be tiny puddles of water leading from the garden all the way up to the guest rooms. Mouse can look behind them and see them forming, falling between Fox’s armor and skin. They get particularly bad every so often. Like now, where the urge has overwhelmed one or both. Fox has her back pressed firmly against the wall, a tapestry on either side of them whose beauty is going completely unrecognized as she hikes a leg up over and around his hip. Fox’s mouth is fused to hers as a free hand massages her breast through the damp fabric.

“Going to make you scream my name.” Fox comes up for air, pressing his forehead into hers as they both pant. She squirms against him seeking friction that will ease the building tension.

Neither of them sees the Chancellor until he is clearing his throat.

“Well, it’s good to see that you two have made your amends.” She can feel Fox’s spine go rigid as her leg falls. He puts only a hair's breadth of space between them, stepping slightly between her and Bail Organa.

“Sir, I was just showing the lady back to her quarters.”

Mouse stifles a laugh, and Chancellor Organa seems to be holding back one of his own. Mouse presses into Fox’s back and peers around to the Chancellor.

“We’ve been having a very heated discussion on the personhood bill, Chancellor.” She offers.

Fox glances back at her with a filthy smile. “Very heated sir. It may take us the rest of the day to come to terms with it.” He glances back at the Chancellor and Mouse notes, not for the first time, the friendship that has blossomed between the two. He’d never been so relaxed when talking about Palp- He’d never dared an ounce of impropriety before but now he was blatantly flaunting his highly inappropriate relationship without the least hint of shame.

Bail let’s his eyes roam between the pair for half a second, “As you were Commander, who am I to get in the way of aggressive negotiations? I expect a full report at breakfast tomorrow.”

Fox bites back a smile. “Breakfast will be fine sir though my report may be heavily redacted.”

Bail shakes his head with a laugh, finally giving in. “So be it.” He takes a half a step to move past them before stopping. “I would take the back way upstairs. Your vode and their generals are having an impromptu Sabaac tournament in the parlor and you won’t get away from them as easily as you will from me.” Fox nods.

“Also Commander?”

Fox cocks his head in question.

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Bail gives his pauldron a quick pat as he walks by. Mouse watches as the Chancellor moves down the hall without a look back. When her eyes do move back to the man in front of her, a new heat is burning in his eyes. She stifles a laugh as he scoops her up.

“You're taking far too much time cyar’ika.”

Mouse finally does laugh as she points in the direction of the back stairs. “Me? I believe it was you who said this seemed like as good a spot as any.” She pitches her voice low in mockery of his own.

“You do a horrible impression,” he mutters, taking the steps two at a time. He’s not even breathing heavy by the time he reaches his room and eases them through the door.

Mouse’s feet have barely hit the floor before she starts helping pull off bits of armor. His bucket, attached to his belt for safekeeping, is carefully shucked into the small corner table as a pile of drippy plastoid begins to take shape on the floor. When he’s down to just his clinging Blacks he moves on her.

“You have too much on.”

Mouse grins as she bends, grips the hem of the dress, before pulling it up and over her head. She tosses it lazily to the side.

“Still too much,” he says slowly, as his eyes rove over her. Mouse laughs as he closes the space between them.

“I’ve got panties on Fox. That’s it.” She makes a small surprised sound as he drops to his knees in front of her. A surge of excitement catches her off guard as Fox’s hands grip her hips and pull her body close. She can feel the scratchy stubble along his chin as he nuzzles at the small dip where her thigh meets her hip.

“Still too much.”

He’s looking up the line of her body and Mouse feels something like power flowing through her as he leans in and places a soft kiss over her hip bone. His thumbs hook in the band of her simple panties and push them down over her sex, below her knees, to her feet where he gently encourages her to step out of them.

“Better?” He’s barely touched her but she already feels breathless.

He leans in, rests his head against the flat plain of her stomach, his warm breath tickles as his hand strokes up and down her thighs. “Yes. Much.”

A glint of silver flashes at his temple as Mouse brings her hand to stroke through his hair. Fox’s eyes slip shut. All the rush to arrive has led to this, a serene moment. A moment that leaves Mouse feeling more connected to him than any kiss on their way back to the estate.

“I see you have a perfectly lovely bed waiting for us.”

Fox turns into her body and presses his lips along her tummy then to her hip. “Can’t lie,” he murmurs against her skin, “I’m pretty content right here.” His eyes flutter shut once more as her nails gently rake across his scalp.

“Cyare,” she whispers softly, “take me to bed?”

Rising slowly to his feet Fox doesn’t let himself lose contact with her body once. His  motions are unhurried. “Your accent is getting better.”

“I’ve had some help.”

Fox doesn’t ask who. He has an idea and he’ll probably have to thank them at some point, but he’d rather not think of the Marshal Commander while he makes love to his girlfriend.

Mouse steps away, smiling coyly over her shoulder as he reaches after her. The soft sway of her hips makes his mouth go dry.

“I feel like you’re the one with too many clothes now, Al’verde.”

There’s an underlying confidence to her that he doesn’t remember, a way she moves, a way she holds his gaze. It makes him want. It makes him need.

Just like she had with her dress, he is quick to pull off the black under armor top he wore but the reaction as her eyes trace over him isn’t quite the same as when she’d performed the same maneuver.

Mouse’s eyes go wide as she focuses on his chest.

“What is that?”

Why has her voice gone so quiet? He glances down and realizes-

“Oh Fox…”  her hand is warm against his bare chest as she matches it up with the tattooed replica of her print.

“We’ll talk about it later, cyar’ika.” He tries to sound persuasive but the petite creature in front of him is not having it.

Fox allows her to drag him the last few steps to the bed. He plops down with a tired sigh.

“We’ll talk about it now.” It’s a gentle order but an order nonetheless.

“Communication?”

Mouse nods as she slides into his lap, a leg falling to either side of his. Fox’s hands come up automatically, one on her lower back and the other with fingers flexed over her bottom. “That would be a good start,” she encourages. Leaning in, Mouse presses her forehead to his.

“Now, why?”

It’s the most arousing interrogation he’s ever been a part of. One part of his brain says to kiss her and make her forget she ever had a question in the first place, but the other reminds him of Bly and General Secura.

Promises could be made ‘til the end of time, but if he didn’t follow through, if he didn’t show her that he intended to hold himself to that standard than everything he said, no matter how poetic or romantic, meant bantha shit.

“I didn’t want to forget you.”

“Oh Fox…”

He wishes she wouldn’t say that. He doesn’t like the sadness that fills her voice, like it’s not for herself but for him. Fox tips his head away ducking around her until he can press his cheek against the smooth expanse of her neck. Nothing about this came easy and she seems to give him the simple gift of a small escape.

“I failed you. I couldn’t let myself forget that,” he continues, his lips moving against her skin. His lips brush over her pulse and Mouse inhales so sweet and soft it nearly shatters him.

“Didn’t fail,” she manages out. Her hand slips between them and traces over the inked lines. “You could never.”

“Your faith in me is moving, cyar'ika, but I’m afraid your love for me has left you blind.”

Mouse laughs as his lips brush butterfly soft under her ear. Goosebumps erupt over her body. “So be it ner darasuum. Let me be blind and happy. It’s much preferable to being alone and sad.”

Fox freezes and draws back. Mouse looks so serene and at peace even though there’s no taking back what she’s just called him.  My Forever.

Mouse’s hands gently cradle his cheeks. Her mouth curls into a smile, beatific and knowing. Fox feels like his chest is going to explode.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” The words slip from her lips with the smoothness of a nonnative speaker who is only becoming proficient. “Apparently, it was important for a silly little Mouse to learn more Mando’a.”

Words fail him. Even if he wasn’t saying the right thing he usually had something to say, but not to that. Not to her declaration worded in his preferred language, not when she was perched naked in his arms. Not when she looked down on him like she saw all his sins and cared for him in spite of them.

Fox leans in and captures her mouth with his own, cherishing the feeling of plump wanting lips under his own as he pulls her in close and presses his body against hers. Mouse goes pliant in his arms, moulding to his body as her arms snake around his neck. Her hips rock lazily, grinding against the hard line of him without any real intent just yet. He wishes he would have taken his pants off first. The telltale heat of her center is painfully close, the fabric already becoming damp with her arousal.

A quiet, needy sound rises up in her throat as his tongue strokes along hers. Last night had given him a none too gentle reminder of what a pleasure it was to touch her. Earlier in the cave, it had been a tease of what was to come. Now there was no chance she was getting away from him. No ultimatums, no di’kutla proposals to ruin the moment. It was just them and the sunlight soaked day stretching out ahead.

Mouse’s tongue slides along his own. She’s less languid now. Her body rolls against his with intimate purpose. Each time she grinds down on him her breasts press against his chest. He's lightheaded from the press of her skin, hot against his.

His blacks feel constricting.They're irritating and uncomfortably tight. Fox attempts to push them down with one hand but there’s no room between them. He lifts his hips and she lets out a needy moan into his mouth that makes the aching hardness pressing against his thigh that much worse.

One hand slides up the bare expanse of her spine, feels the little ridges as it goes. Fox’s fingers tangle in her loose hair and pull her away. Mouse whines at the loss.

“Cyar’ika, precious one, sweet love of my life,” he starts, “if I don’t get these pants off I’m going to cum in them like some shiny cadet.”

It takes a moment for her to swing her leg over him, kneeling to the side. His focus shifts to getting his no good, kriffing blacks off his legs while Mouse seems to want to challenge his ability to complete any task. He watches as she leans. Starting at the edge of his shoulder, she begins laying trailing kisses. He falls back onto the elbow nearest her to keep his body propped, allowing her easier movement while his other hand grips at the waist of his blacks and yanks them down as he lifts his hips up. It’s such a relief when his cock bobs free that he nearly groans.

He does groan when Mouse’s smart little mouth moves from his collarbone down to his tattoo. It’s fascinating watching as she kisses each red inked finger. He reaches down and grasps the hardness between his legs and pumps it lazily.

From the tips of the tattoo she trails her tongue over his heated skin, moving down until her mouth opens to envelop his nipple. Fox can’t help but arch at the sensation of her hot mouth as she gently alternates between nipping and sucking..

“Fierfek,” he curses lowly as she continues to heap attention on him. Her other hand slips down his body and shoos his own away from his cock. It’s heaven to watch her wrap her delicate fingers around him and pump, gathering beads of precum to aid in lubricating each stroke.

He curses again as her thumb sweeps over the weeping slit. Mouse’s mouth comes free from his nipple with a soft ‘pop’ of release and she places one more kiss in the center of his tattoo.

“Cyar’ika, I want to taste you.” His cock comes to rest, hard and leaking into his belly as she lets go.

“I think we’ll be discussing the logistics of the bill all night, don’t you?” Mouse offers him a heavy-lidded smile as she pushes on his opposite shoulder until he gives in and falls back onto a matching elbow.

Fox can only nod mutely as one leg is draped back over his lap. “Right now I don’t want to play anymore.” She says softly, taking his cock in hand and lining it up with her center. “I need you, Fox.”

A low groan escapes them both as the angry red tip of him comes into contact and swipes along her drenched outer lips. She moves him back and forth, collecting her slick along the tip of his cock as she goes.  Her mouth falls open in a quiet moan as she uses his weeping tip to rub her clit. The teasing is exquisite torture. Months of longing and desire build with each touch of her skin to his.

One hand shoots forward and steadies her hip as she slowly begins to take him. Usually he’d have used his fingers to help prepare her body, but she’s not having any of that right now. He watches her move, taking little bits at a time. Her head falls back, her eyes shut and her lips parted. That possessive little part in his soul purrs at the sight of his woman, his partner splitting herself open, desperate for him.

“Say it again,” he demands, fingers digging into the flesh of her hip.

Mouse feels drunk on sensation. It’s been too long since she’s had him and each inch she takes stretches her body deliciously.

“I need you, Fox,” she repeats. Her eyes flutter open to meet the soft golden brown hues of his own locked intently on her.

This is better than any dream, any late night with her fingers working furiously pretending they were something they weren’t, better than the discreetly packaged toy she’d purchased off the holonet. All were poor facsimiles for what she felt now as she comes to rest against his body feeling overwhelmingly full. 

“Feel so good,” Fox praises, his voice gone rough, drawn tight like the muscle straining in his neck, “Missed touching you.”

Fox’s hand strays from her hip, thumb skimming along her belly as he slides it up her body. Mouse moves her hips tentatively as his rough fingers skim over her breast and capture the pebbled peak topping it. He rolls the dusky tip of her nipple between his fingers, drawing a ragged moan from her.

“You ready to move, cyar’ika?” he purrs as he plucks gently. The sensation travels straight to her center. She can’t help but arch into his touch, crying out softly at the combination of stimuli. Fox’s hips jerk seemingly against his own will, just a micro movement, but it makes her head spin all the same as she slowly begins to rock her body, rising up oh so slightly before sinking back down fully. Mouse watches as his head falls back and his hand falls back to her hip in a desperate grip.

Soft sounds spill from her lips, a constant flow of pleasure for him to hear.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly as her eyes fall shut again. His hips cant up to meet her, their bodies rolling together in a sinuous motion.

She hears his name fall from her lips, full of love and desperation. In a smooth movement Fox is pushing himself into a sitting position and wrapping his arms around her, tight bands of muscle she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. Her rhythm is lost as he moves them back, until his back is against the headboard. His knees angle up behind her. An arm stays banded around her as he uses the leverage to begin to fuck up into her willing body. It takes a moment for her to find her rhythm again as bright beams of pleasure shock her system each time the head of his cock brushes against her sensitive walls. He chuckles as she makes a frustrated sound.

“There, there, precious. I’m going to make you feel so good,” he promises, nuzzling against her throat. His breath is hot on her skin and she struggles to ground herself among the sea of emotions swirling around her. She feels his teeth graze along her collarbone and her body clenches around him. Fox growls low against her skin. Mouse holds tight to one shoulder, nails leaving angry half moon marks, as her other hand grasps for the short hair at the back of his head.

Dark marks are sucked into the skin on the column of her neck, her shoulder, the soft spot just below her jaw. She shouldn’t enjoy his possessiveness as much as she does, but Mouse can’t help the way she rocks just a little harder against him thinking about what she’ll see in the mirror tomorrow. A feeling, tight and winding, begins to build low in her belly leaving her feeling like she was in a race to catch up.

Fox feels it too, the telltale seizing of muscles as her body began its hunt toward climax.  Her nails dig sharply into his skin as he finds her mouth. It’s sloppy and needy. Mouse’s teeth nip at his lip and he feels his own end threatening, a telltale tingle starting at the base of his spine. Not yet though.

Their bodies move together, finally finding some semblance of familiarity after so long apart. The quiet whimpers that have been slowly spilling from her mouth become louder echoing pleasantly in his ears.

“You’re close, aren’t you? Me too.” Her hips stutter at his observation. “I want to feel you first. Can you do that for me?”

“Fox- please.” There was something about the way she asked, so polite with her “please” that strokes his ego, bringing a self-satisfied grin to his face.

“What do you need, little Mouse?”

“Ask me again,” she demands breathlessly, “Please ask me again.”

Ask? Ask what? At this point he’d honestly do anything she asked of him. His brows knit together and she must see his confusion through the fog of her desire.

“Earlier. Under the falls- you asked-“ Fox’s hand drops between them, finds her clit and begins rubbing it in smooth circles. Mouse’s back arches and her head falls against his shoulder.

“Again. Ask again.” She begs softly.

Did she mean-?

“Cyar’ika, look at me” he demands, slowing down just enough to turn his head, nuzzle his nose against hers until he’s sure her lust darkened eyes are focused only on his. “Marry me?”

“Fox… Fox… Fox…” she so close he can feel her body pulled taut like a bow. Sweat drips between their bodies as they chase release together. “Yes. Maker- yes.” She manages out seconds before waves of pleasure wash over her. She calls out his name in basic and again, softer,  in Mando’a. It comes out as a sweet Fox’ika he’s never heard her use before.

He holds her close, working her through her high until he can no longer keep his own pace and his body coils tight and snaps. The world whites out as he finds his end in her, each pulse of his cock met by the vice grip of her body around him seemingly working in tandem with his to bring about an orgasm that leaves him overwhelmed and disoriented.

Mouse trembles in his arms. It’s the first thing he’s able to note as he comes back into himself. The next is that her lips are peppering his skin lazily with feather light kisses, murmuring soft words against his neck.

And then it hits him.

He nearly jostles her from her position straddling his lap with the sharp movement he makes. She wraps her arms around his neck and has the audacity to laugh at his stunned expression

“You want to marry me?”

Mouse leans in and kisses the very tip of his nose. “You already asked me that, silly.” Her fingers tease gently at the short hair at the back of his head.

“I- Kriff, you know what I meant.” He slips his hands up between her arms and holds her face. Her eyes are soft and relaxed, her cheeks still painted with a flush of pink, a small smile tugs at her lips. She looks perfectly content and… in love.

With him.

“Of course I want to marry you, taking care of you is a full time job-“ He drags her in for a kiss, slanting his mouth over hers. When she pulls back she’s laughing. “-at least this way I can collect the fringe benefits.”

He feels a smile split his own features in two.

Mouse squirms in his grip. The fading blush returns with a vengeance as he slips from her body, an unquestionable wet trickle following. While she may be embarrassed, he finds it sinfully hot to have his seed marking her thigh. He takes pity though and lets her escape to the ‘fresher. He lets his head fall back against the headboard. He can’t wipe the smile from his face. In his wildest dreams he never saw this playing out like it had.

The sound of the door opening has him turning his head lazily in her direction. He’s pretty sure she’s a goddess. Nope. Strike that. He was positive she was a Goddess and somehow she was his.

She tosses a warm washcloth his way and averts her eyes as he cleans up. It makes him chuckle as he does. She crawls back into bed as he finishes and attempts to lay next but that wasn’t going to work. Instead he drags her back into his lap. She curls into him as soon as she’s in place, legs off one side, head resting on his opposite shoulder all the while looking like she was made to be there.

“When do you think we could do it?” she asks softly,”It’s not exactly legal.”

He’s already thought of that.

“We could do it anytime you want. The old Mandalorian way. Exchange some vows and bam! Married.” Her brows furl in thought “unless you want to wait for-“

“I’m not Mandalorian.”

“And I’m just a poor facsimile of one,” he huffs when her frown deepens. “It’s the vow that matters. If you believe in the words you're saying, the vow you make, what does it matter?” Her hand feels so soft and so fragile in his own as he brings it up to his lips and gently kisses along her knuckles.

“So we could do this?”

“We could do this.”

“When?” There’s an excitement stirring in her voice and he doesn’t try to hide the matching energy on his own.

“Whenever you wa-“

“Now. I want it now.” She slips off his lap and turns to him, kneeling. Her eyes are as bright as the stars in the sky and far more captivating as far as Fox is concerned. He sits up a little straighter.

“You’re serious? Just like that?”

Mouse nods. She’s never been so sure of anything in her life. When he’d said it earlier today she was scarcely sure she heard him correctly, and then the icy bath in the pool had worked wonders in rearranging her priorities.

“Stop questioning me. You’d think you’d be happy to-“

He steals the air from her lungs and the words from her mouth with a kiss that, had her panties not already been on floor, would have surely put them there. His hands cup her face and she’s thankful for the anchor they provide as she whimpers into his mouth.  She lets out a ragged breath as he pulls back just enough for her to focus.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."

Maker bless Cody because she understands every word Fox says. The Marshal Commander hadn’t even blinked when she’d posed her question.

“You have to breathe Cyar’ika,” Fox whispers and Mouse lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Fox’s brows bunch together as her silence stretches. “We don’t have to-“

Mouse presses a finger to his lips and he quiets.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."

Fox leans in, presses his forehead to hers. Her heart is full. Her soul is light.

“Mine,” he promises softly.

She smiles at the claim.

“Mine,” she makes her own assertion.

His thumb strokes along her jaw. “Precious…” He pulls her back into his lap and Mouse’s eyes grow wide as she looks down as giggles begin to bubble up in her chest.

“Again already?”

“We need to get to work on those little warriors.”

——-

Mouse really hadn’t wanted to get out of bed. Strike that. She had adamantly refused to get out of bed. She was nowhere near Fox’s level of ‘morning person’ and the pleasantly dull ache between her legs left her even more certain that bed was the perfect place for her.

Unfortunately, her newly minted Riduur had other ideas. Mainly to watch the sunrise - just once - over Naboo’s famed lakes. He’d seemed so hopeful that she had begrudgingly crawled from her bed and slid into a pair of leggings before stealing one of the black under armors he’d packed. He seemed to approve as she tied the overly large shirt off just below her navel, his eyes lingering on the bare strip of flesh as he’d pulled his own clothes on. It had been fascinating and almost jarring to see him in something other than regulation GAR issued clothes, instead having opted for the simple pants and tunic that Padmé had left for all her guests in their rooms.

“You know, we could still go back to bed and discuss the little warriors some more,” she teases lightly as she reaches across the table and retrieves an insulated carafe. She pours two mugs of rich black caf and then begins doctoring them accordingly.

The light is slowly beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft glow over the lake when the patio doors open and the rest of their party ease into the cool morning air.

Fox huffs, “First we eat and then we’ll discuss what pops up.”

“You’re talking about sex right?” Bly’s voice echoes over the patio, “because honestly, bravo. Amiright?” He looks to an exasperated General Secura and an equally unamused Cody. “Because wow, you two give Aayla and I a run for our credits.”

“Bly!” The Commander winces as Aayla cuts her eyes at him. Mouse hides her embarrassed smile in the hot mug of sweet caf.

“Come on, look at him!” Bly points to Fox who sips at his own caf. “When was the last time he looked so much like himself?”

“You mean a smug asshole?” Cody cuts in straight faced, but eyes dancing with amusement.

“Exactly!”

Mouse glances at her husband and the way he’s relaxed back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other, the sleeves of his cream tunic rolled up just below his elbows with strong forearms on display... stars above! And that grin…

He did, in fact, look like a smug asshole and it did things to her.

“Don’t be jealous Bly. It’s not becoming.” Fox baits his vod happily.

“Why you little mir’sheb-“

Cody rolls his eyes and physically moves Bly out of the way with a straight arm to find his spot at the table.

Aayla slides in next to Mouse. The Jedi gives her a knowing smirk before gently touching a spot just behind her ear. The twi’lek’s voice is conspiratorial. “Our boys like to make it appear as if we’ve done battle with octopi, no? Bacta gel and high collars are going to be your best friend.”

Mouse can feel her cheeks heating up again as Bly’s head appears over Aayla’s shoulder. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s never worn anything high collared in her entire life.”

“Are we starting in on the armor argument again this early?” the blue skinned woman asks with a huff.

“Now that you mention it…”

The pair dissolve into playful bickering while the doors open and Padmé and Anakin make their way onto the patio, each with a baby in tow, while General Kenobi takes up the rear. The atmosphere is lively as everyone settles in. Babies are dispersed and fawned over. Bly smiles widely as Luke fumbles to touch and grab at his face. Obi-wan has a placid watchful Leia in his arms. Both look serene to a point where it’s nearly comical.

The Chancellor makes his presence known as the food is being spread out.

“What a strange group we have here,” he notes with a smile.

“Ah yes, it would seem you have stumbled on the inaugural meeting of those who don’t believe in fraternization regulations.” Obi-wan’s eyes sparkle with mischief while at his side Cody rolls his.

A small laugh rises within the group and for a moment there is no war, no separatists, no strife or heartache within the Republic. For a moment everyone is allowed to just be, without making decisions or worrying about repercussions.

Mouse tops off Fox’s caf before pouring one for Cody, who thanks her with a knowing smile and nod. Fox is busy piling a plate with food. Colorful cut fruit, fresh meats, and rich pastries fill it as he sits back.

The babies are making their rounds. Anakin has managed to wrangle his daughter back from the child’s Grand Master and Luke is plunked into Mouse’s arms while Padmé seems to enjoy the moment sans child.

When she glances at Fox, she can’t help but notice the way he looks at the infant in her arms. His eyes soften at the little boy as he gurgles and tries to grab ahold of Mouse’s braid hanging over her shoulder.

If he had his way, they’d have a tiny one of their own in nine months. Not that she was complaining. If they could use their contacts to rush Me’kar’s adoption through, they could have two before the next Festival of Life. Of course, until Padme’s bill became law, Fox wouldn’t be the father of record for at least Me’kar - possibly either child - but they’d already talked about it and they would do it the Mando way until they could-

“Cyar’ika? You’re thinking very hard about something,” Fox notes softly, holding his hands out for his turn with Luke.

“Yes, I hope you're feeling well,” Padmé adds as Mouse admires the tiny child tucked comfortably into the crook of his elbow, “I hear that you may not have had much sleep last night.” Mouse’s head snaps to her friend who - for being an amazing politician - is doing an awful job of hiding her smile behind her cup of juice.

Mouse glances sideways at the snort her husband makes. He pushes the plate of food in front of her and eyes it. “Eat, precious.”

He ignores the way her eyes roll and maintains his stare until she takes the first bite of fruit.

“Commander Fox.” Bail eyes the pair of them as he speaks, “I wonder if you had the report on those aggressive negotiations we’d spoken of yesterday.”

“As I stated, they’re likely to remain heavily redacted.” The grin that spreads across Fox’s face should have warned her he was up to no good. “But my Riduur and I came to a perfectly reasonable agreement in the end.”

Bastard.

The table goes silent as Fox looks down and coos something to Luke. Mouse puts her head down and chews longer than necessary. Someone drops a fork. Then, all at once-

“As someone experienced in secret weddings-“

“Can he do that? Legally speaking-”

“Leave it to Fox-”

“I have a sister now?! Cody we have-“

“This is going to go over like a-“

“There’ll be no living with him now. Does this set a-“

Mouse takes another bite as she looks over at the satisfied grin on the face of the Coruscant Guard Commander. “Are you quite happy now?”

“Very.”

She can’t argue with that.

[nat-roman0ff]

all i want for christmas is us

all i want for christmas is us

an entry for @saintlymendes​ secret santa

for: nicole (@tell-me-when-ur-ready​)

-

words: 2,092 warnings: some swearing, angst, and cavity inducing fluff (it is christmas after all)

-

 Shawn looks down again at his phone, scrolling through the photos. Happy. Warm. Holiday season. Ice skating at his favorite park, kissing under the mistletoe, and posing in the matching pajamas his mum had bought for the entire family. A smile creeps up on his face and then disappears just when he starts to feel its warmth. 

 Last Christmas. 

 Last Christmas the photos were taken. Last Christmas they were happy. Last Christmas she had said yes to marrying him. 

 Now the photos just served as painful reminders of his current reality. Sitting alone in his half empty condo. He couldn’t bare to replace the things she took, just in case she decided to come back.

Odds and ends mostly; an end table she purchased at an antique store and lugged eight blocks back home on a hot August weekend, an ottoman where the two would sit on the floor across from each other and play cards all night over a bottle of her favorite red wine, an entirely empty wall that used to make up her vinyl collection. The half empty condo matched his half empty heart.

 Shawn locks and drops his phone to his chest with a thud, opting for the sting of its weight on his sternum over the stinging of his broken heartstrings. He still hadn’t cleaned up the red wine stain from the carpet when she spilled it last Christmas. Getting rid of that was the last bit of her still around and, well, he needed to still hold onto something. 

 Karen’s rung three times at this point. She knew it was going to be a hard day for him, insisted he spend the night Christmas Eve but Shawn declined and instead drank himself stupid until three in the morning and passed out on the living room floor next to her red wine stain.

 He thought about calling her, wishing her a Happy Christmas, or anything just to hear her voice. It hadn’t been a messy breakup, at least at first. She said it was too much too soon and the constant pressure from the outside world was starting to seep through their happy little bubble. 

 Time. It was always time that she needed. But after she returned the ring, the weeks faded into months and when he saw that first picture come up on his timeline he knew that their time had run out. 

 It was innocent enough; someone he knew through mutual friends but could never remember his name. Smiling, with her lips pressed against his cheek. 

 She was with someone else. 

 He blacked out that night, somewhere in the middle of a world tour in a foreign city and woke up the next morning by Brian dumping a glass of water on his head. He cried for a day and a half straight and then again when he had to tell his mum. 

 Time.

 Everyone said it was all he’d need to get over her; the love of his life. He’d known it from a very young age, before the fame, before they’d ever exchanged a wayward glance at each other. He knew she was going to be the one for him, for the rest of his life. 

 Until she wasn’t.

 Write about it. Was his first thought. Write until your fingers bleed and there’s nothing left in your head. Write out every memory, every feeling, every ounce of pain that courses through your God forsaken veins and then you’ll be rid of her. But Shawn couldn’t write. He couldn’t put down a single fucking word in the six months since she left. He just couldn’t describe it; there was no way to put into words how he was feeling, nothing that did it justice, nothing that captured the pathetic sadness that lingered in his bones about her.

 -

 It’s half past two when Karen finally got ahold of him. He’d lost track looking at photos, letting his memories replay on the walls of his condo over and over again. He watches the two of them dance in the kitchen at midnight and make love on the living room floor in the morning, wrapped up in each other’s arms. If he was miserable at home on Christmas, he was going to be even worse at his parent’s house. 

 Everything was the same as it was last year when Shawn finally walks through the front door of his parent’s home, right down to the smells. Except she’s not there. There’s a small box in the spot where the ring box sat last year on the tree and Shawn tries to blink away the onset of tears that threaten to come through. He wonders which cousin is getting engaged this year.

 Asshole stole my idea.

 “Everything alright, darling?” Karen asks in only that mum way. She knows it’s not. It hasn’t been for a while. 

 Shawn nods his head, “yeah, fine. Just...you know. I knew today would be hard.” 

 Karen smiles, “I know, honey. But they day’s not over yet,” she says with a wink.

 Something in Shawn’s heart flutters.

 “C’mon,” she starts, “let’s go open presents.” 

 -

 An hour and two bags full of wrapping paper later the Mendes’ family is nearly finished unwrapping gifts. Shawn’s eyes glance over to the box sitting snugly on the tree branch. No one has reached for it yet, and as things are winding down he can’t help but stare at it, wanting to know the contents. It’s slightly larger than a ring box, but not enough to put anything substantial in it. 

 “There’s one more for you,” Manny points to the tree. 

 Shawn looks at the box and back to his father and he nods. Standing, he goes to the tree and opens the box with shaky hands. There’s a folded up piece of paper inside and he immediately recognizes her handwriting and that stupid gold pen he always hated. It smeared the edges of her letters, he never thought it would end up being something he missed. Shawn can feel the heat of his family watching him as he reads;

 Shawn,

 It’s been too long since we last spoke and I suppose I owe you a lot. See, time is a funny thing. It feels the most fleeting when you have none of it left and the most crippling when you’re looking down the barrel of forever. I needed time on my own, I needed time with other people. I needed to know that what we had was what my forever was meant to look like and to do that I needed to find out a little more about myself. So, as it turns out I actually DO like cucumbers, riding motorcycles, and being alone. But I still hate tomatoes, unicorns (don’t ask) and being away from you. I’m sorry for the pain that I’ve caused you. I know there’s never going to be a way I can take that away or make it up to you, but I want you to know just how sorry I am.

 Meet me tonight at 6 where we had our first date (yes, the first-first one, not the second-first one, you’ll know what I’m talking about).

 Love, Nicole

 His ears are ringing when he looks up - eyes immediately checking the clock on the wall behind him: 5:55. 

 “Fuck - I gotta go!” 

 Shawn runs to grab his shoes and jacket. It’s faster if he runs, he thinks. It’s not far and his car is packed in with his relatives in the driveway and it would take ten minutes just for everyone to move out of the way. He sets off as the snow starts to pick up, slipping and sliding against the sidewalk pavement, breath coming out in foggy puffs. 

 He runs to the park by the high school. It’s not far, and he thinks he can make it in time. His cheeks are frozen, and snowflakes keep getting stuck in his lashes but Shawn just runs to her. When he rounds the corner to cross he sees her there, sitting on that same old dingy swing set that has somehow (despite looked rotted for at least the last twenty years) has never broken. She’s bundled up in her winter coat, looking down at her boots absentmindedly drawing pictures in the snow with the tip of her shoe. 

 The park had been their halfway point when they were kids; perfectly in the middle of each house when they didn’t want to worry about being around parents. It had been here that they had their first date in sixth grade; a picnic of PB&J’s that ended in an unforecasted rainstorm. She didn’t mind, and they splashed and danced in the puddles and went home a dirty sopping mess and he was sure that was the exact moment he fell in love with her. Even though he wasn’t sure what that meant yet. As all things do when you’re twelve, the relationship ended just as quick as it started and it wasn’t until six years later that things actually became serious.

 But that’s another story for another day.

 He’s not sure what to say when he approaches her. His chest is frozen from heaving in the frigid air and she just looks up from the swing and stares. He’s not sure it was possible for her to get more beautiful, but she somehow managed to. Her cheeks were pinked like his, her hair sprinkled with tiny snowflakes. 

 “I know how much we both love grand romantic gestures,” she laughs.

 Fuck, he never thought he’d hear that laugh again and it literally warms his chest to. 

 “Nicole I -” 

 “Shawn I’m sorry,” she starts, “I have no way to ever make up what I did to you. I just...I got really fucking scared. You’re the only person I’ve ever been with and that terrified me. I didn’t know what it was like to be young and single or do something by myself. So I had to be alone -” 

 “What about that guy? The one you posted a picture with?” Shawn says.

 Nicole slaps her forehead with her palm, “Shawn, Joe is my friend.” 

 He sucks in a breath of air, “oh.” 

 “There was never anyone else,” she pats the empty swing next to her, “there’s never going to be anyone else.”

 Shawn sits beside her, it feels good to be this close again; to see all the little things about her up close that made her, her. All the little things he failed to appreciate before she had gone. 

 “So what does this mean now?” He asks. 

 Nicole reaches for his frozen hand and holds it in her gloved one, “I hope it means you still have that ring -” 

 Before she can finish Shawn pulls the chain of her swing towards him to bring her closer, and kisses her. Her lips are cold and chapped but so are his and there’s a brilliant warmth of familiarity that his bones recognize and he melts into her, wrapping an arm around her middle and holding on like his life depends on it. 

 (It does)

 “So how did you even pull this off? Shawn asks when he pulls away. 

 Nicole smiles, “Karen helped me.” 

 He snorts, “I knew it.”

 The park is so silent Shawn swears he can hear the snowflakes hit the ground, trapped in their own personal snow globe. They sit quiet for a moment, and Shawn is still trying to process what just happened. He can feel her still lingering on his lips; the same sickly sweet lip gloss she always wore. 

 “Do you want to go home?” He asks, looking at her through snow flake lined lashes. 

 Nicole nods, “I’d really love that.” 

 Shawn threads his fingers through hers and they walk hand in hand back to the Mendes household. He feels the gold circular piece of metal against his chest. He’s worn it there for so long he’s forgotten he has it. 

 He stops them in the middle of the sidewalk and bends down onto one knee onto the snow, reaching under his shirt and jacket to snap the engagement ring off the chain he wore around his neck. 

 “Will you marry me...again?” 

 Nicole nods frantically, “yes! Now get up before your jeans get wet.”

 Shawn stands and pulls her into a kiss, threading his fingers through her hair until the both of them are out of breath. 

 “Hey Shawn,” she starts, lips still ghosting against his, “Merry Christmas.” 

 He smiles so hard it hurts his cheeks, “Merry Christmas, my love.”

[thethirdwheel404]

sleep deprived ava

Ava had not been getting a lot of sleep lately. Yes, as a cardiothoracic fellow, sleep deprivation is part of the job, but something about this level of lethargy was starting to concern her. Usually she was really good at putting boundaries on herself at work, and she promised she would rest again soon, just after this last patient got their proper treatment. If only they could figure out what that treatment was.

Additionally, her lack of sleep was not only because of her job. Her personal life was bleeding over, making a big red mark on the professional. It’s always best to keep personal and professional life separated, but Ava supposes it’s hard to do that when the object of your affection also works with you.

(Funny, she vaguely remembers a colleague of hers having the same issue almost a year prior. But she doesn’t have nearly as many problems as Connor did.)

Sarah has been on her mind a lot recently. To the point where she was actually being a huge distraction. Not that the other woman knew, of course not, she had no way of knowing, and Ava’s sure if she did know how distracting she was, she would make an effort not to be so damn cute all of the time.

Ava had come to the conclusion some odd months ago that she did in fact have a crush on Sarah Reese, and reminded herself that there was nothing wrong with that. Sarah was perfectly kind and perfectly attractive, the perfect person to focus her charming flirtations on. That was okay.

That was before she got to know her. Before, they had hardly shared more than two sentences with each other. Now, they were spending nearly every second of their free time together, and it was driving Ava mad. She was running herself up the wall and down again, trying to figure out a way to broach the subject with tact. The last thing she wanted was to spook Sarah and make her run for the hills.

Ava sighed. She stood up from her seat at a cafeteria table and trudged off towards the ED. This coffee was not doing anything.

Dr. Bekker is sitting at the desk in the ED. Well, sleeping, more like it. Her head is resting on her fist, her elbow precariously close to slipping off the chair armrest, and her eyes open by just a hair.

“Dr. Bekker.”

Ava jolts awake.

“Maggie,” Ava says, strong accent cutting through, acknowledging the person standing over her. Hastily, she adjusts her jacket and scrubs, smoothing them back into place.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this tired.”

Ava shrugs, seamlessly slipping back into easy confidence.

“Rough couple of cases. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Uh huh,” Maggie says, unbelieving.

She sets a can of Red Bull on the desk with a knowing look.

“You need this more than anybody.”

Ava scoffs. “Those things? They are murder on your heart, come on.”

Maggie hums and walks away. Ava watches her leave, and when she’s out of sight, Ava darts forward, grabs the energy drink, immediately cracking it open and downing half of it.

Maggie walks over to the counter where Dr. Reese is checking a patient’s chart.

“You need to get a hold of your CT fellow.”

Sarah looks up at Maggie, quirking a brow. She follows Maggie’s head nod, and sees Ava sitting at one of the desks, consulting with Ethan on a patient’s labs. She looks back to Maggie.

“Why me?”

Maggie laughs to herself.

“Maggie.”

Maggie looks up from her chart and gives Sarah a look. Sarah walks closer to her.

“First of all, Dr. Bekker is not my CT fellow. Second, I don’t see why I need to ‘get a hold’ of her.”

Maggie turns to watch Ava, and Sarah does the same.

“Look at her. Does she look like someone who’s slept in the last 48 hours?”

Sarah hesitates.

“Uh huh…” Maggie says.

The charge phone beeps. Maggie glances down, then starts to  walk off to greet the new  patient.

“Fix. It. Before she falls asleep elbow deep in some poor soul’s chest cavity.”

Sarah tuts, once, indignant, watching Maggie walk away. Then she turns back toward Ava.

In all honesty, Sarah has been worried about her for the past couple of days. She seemed very distracted, like she was always somewhere else, in her mind. It’s not hard to imagine the other woman not getting enough sleep.

Sarah sighs.

The amount of times Ava has stared at herself in the mirror and reminded herself it was okay to like Sarah is impossible to count. She just knows that she does it often enough to where just looking in a reflection will give her that idea. She’s been telling herself that for months, and yet, she has done nothing. It’s okay to like her, to want her, as long as you do it right.

Ava stands in the locker room on the surgical floor. Her head is resting on the lockers in front of her. She looks as if she’s having a hard time standing upright. Her Red Bull is in her hand, but it looks dangerously close to slipping.

“Ava?”

Ava barely turns her head to look at who just entered. She doesn’t even lift her head off the lockers. Once she sees that it’s just Sarah, she turns and rests against the lockers again.

“Jesus, Ava, when’s the last time you slept?”

“I have been getting an adequate amount of sleep, Dr. Reese. No need to worry.” Ava says it slow, not even trying to sound energized.

“Ava, come on, look at me -” Sarah crosses the room now and grabs Ava by her arms. She stands her upright, so she isn’t leaning against anything.

Ava takes a second to adjust to the positioning, and when she opens her eyes, all she can realize is that Sarah is arm’s length away from her. In her mind, in her state, that’s just a bit too risky. The space starts to feel stuffy. Ava takes a step back.

Sarah stares at her for a bit, disbelief.

“Can you see what’s wrong with this patient?”

“What?”

Ava hands her the chart for the patient she’s working on.

“You’re asking me to consult?”

“I’m asking for help.”

Sarah watches the other woman for a bit, gauging her sincerity, then looks down at the chart.

“The white count antibodies are -”

“High.” Ava’s head falls back, facing the ceiling. She laughs at herself, almost self-deprecating. “Fuck.”

“Ava…”

Ava walks out onto the floor, where the surgery team is gathered. Sarah follows.

“It’s the white count. His natural levels are so high they interfere with the anesthesia. That’s why his stats tank.”

The team murmurs in agreement, then rush off to get scrubbed in.

Ava turns to Sarah and tries to hand her the Red Bull.

“Sarah, can you take this? I need to get -”

“You’re not scrubbing in.”

Ava pauses. She looks back to Sarah, who is staring her down with a stern expression.

“What?”

“Ava. Look at you. You can barely stand. There is no way you can do a surgery like this.”

“But I -”

“This is not a discussion.”

Sarah’s phone buzzes. A page. She looks back up to Ava.

“Look, I need to go. You need to get some sleep. I’ll be back to check on you when I can.”

Sarah walks off before Ava can argue further. She’s right, she knows. She’s in no state to do surgery.

“Right,” Ava says to no one, Sarah already out of ear shot. “Sleep. I need…” she trails off. Some deep, instinctual part of her wants to say you, but she resists.

Instead, she glances around, then heads back to the locker room, promptly falling asleep on the cot.

Hopefully when she wakes up, she’ll be in the right enough mind to figure everything out.

[corpse--diem]

Only If For A Night | Nic & Erin

@bountybossier

Two glasses sat on the empty metal body slab, the dark auburn of the whiskey beside it bouncing off the bad overhead lighting. Ready and waiting. Nic had made good on his word when he’d told their boss a heads up would be needed. Dale informed her there’d be a body on it’s way to the funeral home and their hunter-for-here would be delivering. The basement was eerily quiet now without the sounds of her father bellowing and growling in the background. Erin’s eyes moved to the large blood stain in the middle of the room where she hadn’t been able to completely remove the last trace of the night that had absolved her of that particular problem. Maybe it was time to get a rug down here. Realized how she looked just now, literally standing around, waiting for Nic to drop in with the delivery. Yikes. This was weird, wasn’t it? Hints of desperation were abundant in the air, here. The sharp knock on the door abruptly broke her from those thoughts. She pulled the basement door open, a knowing smirk on her lips. “I’m sorry. Can I help you?” Couldn’t help when her grin stretched wider, arms aptly crossing as she leaned against the door entrance.

Nicodemus had no earthly reason to feel nervous. He didn’t feel right in the slightest but the further he got away from Traveler, the further he got away from the ocean, he felt more like himself. Whatever that was. Heading to the funeral home, heading to see her, wasn’t the place to start having an existential crisis. Blame the night. That had been the mantra for the last handful of weeks or however long he had been fucked up as he was. He didn’t want to think about that and he chose not too as he checked himself in the rearview. The bruising from his nose was fading but still, dark fell under his eyes like spread bat wings. He frowned. Oh well. Like Erin said, bloody and battered was his thing. The hunter tried not to linger on it too much as he lugged another werewolf over his shoulder. Somewhere in the familiarity of the situation, his nerves settled. As the door open and he looked at her, a crooked smirk appeared. “Yeah, you might be able to, ma’am. Got somethin’ of a bountiful harvest an’ all.” The smell of old blood hit his nose and he couldn’t help but look away from Erin for a second, to the unmistakable stain of blood. “That’s new, huh?”

Erin didn’t miss bruised patches beneath his eyes. She’d seen him the night it had happened but it still threw her how healed up it looked already. Was that a hunter thing? Still made her inwardly flinch and not because she was squeamish. Lord knew she wasn’t. But she also couldn’t help the way her chest lurched when he smirked at her like that. “Bountiful harvest,” she nodded, a soft chuckle on her lips. “That’s good. There’s that quick wit I know and miss,” she said, pointing at him as she stepped back to finally let him in. Just because it was dark didn’t mean it was a good idea to have him hover outside with a body bag on his shoulder any longer than necessary. She locked the door, glancing back to where his eyes fell. “Uh, yeah,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “It took three witches, a moose, and a fuck ton of magic, but dear old dad is no longer with us.” That summed it up enough, right? She crossed the room, patting the metal table she had reserved just for this delivery. “You can toss this big guy right over here.”

His gaze lingered on her, lips loose in a thin smile. The scenario was so damn similar. Nightfall, corpse of a stranger on his shoulder, and Erin Nichols welcoming him into the underground. Nicodemus stepped past her and chuckled. “Yeah, you sure it ain’t just weirdo talk?” He eyed the bloody spot as he set the werewolf down on the table, the ring of metal sounding for just a moment. “I’ve been tryin’ to sleep. Maybe that’s helpin’. Can’t run off nothin’ like some people.” Namely but without being said, Alain. He couldn’t stop himself. “A fuckin’ what? A moose?” The magic and witches glanced off of him, but he had to huff a raspy laugh at how an animal like that got involved. “Really startin’ to build a rapport with moose, y’know? Kinda startin’ to make it seem like an art. Maybe that’s your, uh, gift.” He paused and wrung his hands. He had started so confidently. Surely, he could find it again. A small and ugly bud in him started to bloom. Tracking things was one of his specialities. It couldn’t possibly be the case, his logical brain thought, but then that less than logical bit crept out. Maybe his presence was cursed somehow. He shook his head and stepped off to the side. “One of ‘em.” He coughed into his shoulder and shook it out. “Anyhow. Better he’s gone now, yeah? Rest easy an’ all.”

“Weirdo talk works too,” Erin chuckled. Watched him set the body down, that easy smile she wore faltering a few hairs. Bottom line, there was still a job to do here. “Moose are my gift? I hope you know this moose surgence didn’t start being a thing until I met you, ” she latched onto his words, trying not to think too deeply about the body in front of her. Another werewolf. She didn’t know how that worked in real life compared to movies. Had this been a person before? Or just a supernatural wolf-like creature? Wasn’t quite sure she wanted an answer to that, actually. Not when she was about to do what she was about to do. Her eyes flickered up to Nic’s briefly, like she’d find some sort of answer there. All she could see was the exhaustion still lingering in his features. “All gone, yeah,. Nothing to worry about there anymore,” she said quickly, trying to refocus back on the task at hand. Scalpel and Playmate ready, she got to work. Quiet for a few moments as metal sliced into skin, brows furrowed in concentration. “How are you?” Her eyes searched for his again. Paused a beat. “Really?”

“You ain’t made me leave yet, so looks like weirdo is workin’ for me,” Nicodemus smiled. Better than monster or whatever other fucking word a bleeding heart would spit at him. “Hey now, I said one of ‘em. Maybe the moose were just waitin’ to hear from you. You’re welcome for that.” Because that’s what Moose Caboose had been about. Fuck, he needed to stop talking about the moose. It was easier to talk about that than seeing eyeballs, sleepwalking, and killing strangers. Fuck. Why was he so hung up on that? Would he have let Jeff just die if he hadn’t suddenly felt compelled…? No. It wasn’t the time or the place. He looked at Erin as she looked at him and took a breath to ground himself. Too much thinking like that wouldn’t do him any good. It would paralyze him. “That’s good. Glad you got it figured out,” he said with a nod, eyes on the body as she started to cut into it. When she posed her question, he looked up. Fixed his eyes on her. He was quiet, the humor from before pulled out of him with death-grip hands. In bruised yet healing eye sockets, his eyes felt darker. “I don’t know,” he rumbled out. “Feel like I’ve been fucked up since I got here. Nothin’ goes the way I think it will and that shouldn’t be a huge fuckin’ surprise, but…” In White Crest, he saved people. He hated that word but he knew what it was. Why did that bother him so goddamn much? “It, uh, it does. Every time. Like I can’t get...right..” He realized how much he said, which in the grand scheme wasn’t much, but it was more than anything to him. A dry, humorless laugh broke the quiet as he leaned back against the counter and started to fiddle with a metal handle “...I guess I ain’t great.”

“It works. Don’t worry about that,” Erin returned the smile. God, the fucking moose. It was as funny as it was depressing. And after the night she’d spent and what she’d seen done to that moose, she was alright without ever seeing another one again in her life. She ignored it with a soft roll of her eyes, eager to get past that and any further discussion of her father. Moose and zombies. Two things she never would have pictured so prominently in her life. She could practically feel the tone shift when the room fell silent. Then he spoke, no cursed coins urging those reluctant truths from him. So she stopped, pulled her hands from the still-warm corpse, and listened. Suddenly more nervous than she could recall being in front of him. “I get that. In a way, I mean,” she shrugged, returning his wry smile with one of her own. Gestured towards the body directly in front of her. Case in point. She started back to work when her hands grew antsy, though her focus remained as much as possible on him. “I learned a little late but this town has a way of screwing with you in ways I never could have dreamed about,” she scoffed. Eyes darted towards the empty glasses and the liquor bottle. “Whiskey helps though.” She tried to smile again, but the way he was looking bothered her more than she could properly grasp. “It’s not you,” she insisted, words firm and sure. “It’s this town and everything in it fucking with you. But it’s not you. You know that, right?”

When she pulled her hands out of the werewolf’s chest cavity, Nicodemus slowed his fiddling with the cabinet handle. Trigger finger tapping against the metal quietly as he listened to her speak. When she pointed at the very obvious body smack dab in the middle of an illicit organ harvesting between a mortician and a hunter, he couldn’t fight the wry smile that eased to life. “Yeah…” He sighed as he readjusted himself, looked at the whiskey and empty glasses. Whether he was sober or whether he wasn’t, the shit he dealt with didn’t have the mind to pack things up and leave him alone. It wouldn’t be life if it up and did that, did him a kindness. He looked at her as she worked. Just as tired as him. He didn’t know what happened, but considering the blood and the reluctance, he could only assume it wasn’t pretty. Assumed it would be the kind of thing to haunt the mind. She could do without being haunted. He crossed over to the whiskey and poured himself a glass, much less than what he usually would. He did the same for her but was forced to pause at her words. Wasn’t him? A low hum of uncertainty rose. He didn’t flinch when he saw that eye staring at him again when he blinked. “Ain’t sure about that, Erin,” he said, finger tapping against the bottle of whiskey as he set it down. “Peace of mind don’t come to people like me. Makes sense in a shitty way. All, uh, this.” He wasn’t hunting for pity. It was a statement of fact. That was the deal. They hunted, they died, and peace came in the form of a 2x6 foot coffin. Or just a hole in the dirt. He didn’t lament that. Of all things to make peace with, he had with that. He was certain of it. That part of the Bossier legacy he couldn’t outrun. “The town, yeah, I can buy that. But it's gotta react to somethin’.” He grabbed the glass of whiskey and threw it back. Didn’t go to refill it. He grabbed the glass he poured for her and handed it to her. “Givin’ it plenty to work with, I suppose.” He looked at the werewolf corpse as he found it hard to look at her. “How’s it lookin’ in there?”

Something in his voice could only lend to what he wasn’t saying. Erin hadn’t known him long, but Nic was a man of few words. When he spoke, you listened. Somewhere along the way she’d started reading between the lines. Had to, if she wanted to understand him better, or at all. This felt different, though. She felt different. And so did Nic. “You deserve better than feeling that way,” she reiterated, watching him knock back the whiskey, cup barely full. That was different too. She set the creature’s liver into the cooler, his words settling weirdly on her mind. All of this—the unsavory exchanges in the night. The secrets. The lies. Erin has only tasted this side of life for a fraction of the time Nic had. But it was part of her now. Always had been, even if she didn’t know it before a few months ago. “You’ve gotta keep believing that.” She had to keep believing that too. Lifted the glass to her lips, the blood on her gloves marring the clean surface. Like a reminder. Subtle. She paused, watching it for a second, before tossing it back just as quickly as he had. “You’re biased, you know.” She started, trying to find the words as warmth crept into her chest. “You've only got your point of view, making you think that any of this is your fault. And I know I haven’t known you long, but from what I’ve seen?” She tried to find his eyes as his avoided her own. “You deserve that. Peace. You’re a good guy. I know that. And I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t think so.” Fuck. Right. The corpse was growing colder by the second and she set her glass down. Found it harder and harder to concentrate on what she was doing. “It’s fine,” she nodded, getting back to it. Thought hard about how it had ended up on her table, and who’d brought them here. “Can you—you could stop, right?” She asked, genuinely unsure. “Step away from all of this, if you really wanted.”

The hunter forced himself to not respond when she called him a good guy. The same way his grandfather trained him to not give when wolf teeth sunk down. Nicodemus’s jaw started to tighten, the muscle there taut as teeth pressed tight together. Erin. Margot. Skylar. Blanche. Orion. All these people saying thank you, feeling grateful for the shit he did on a whim and couldn’t find an explanation for no matter how much he dug. Anger wearing the skin of self-loathing crawled up his ribs and sat heavy in his throat. He didn’t believe in much of anything. Was this Samson’s revenge? He hadn’t seen the old man in years but he kept tabs. Knew the fucker was still alive during all of this. As the thoughts pushed, collided, and broke apart against one another, he stared at the blood that clung to her clear glass. Whiskey and blood. That’s all he should have stayed as. His eyes traveled across her face. “Erin, you’re….You’re sayin’ all this shit elbow deep in a fuckin’ corpse that I brought for you,” he said after staying silent, his brows furrowed as he looked at her with dark eyes. “Same as before. It ain’t good and it ain’t evil. It’s just fucked. That’s all it is. It’s what I do and…” He pulled back, pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. His breath felt heavier yet light. Felt like it came quicker, but he wasn’t in a fight. He breathed in long and deep through his nose, shut his eyes for a moment. Her question prompted him to pour himself another glass, just as shallow as the one before it, and open his eyes again. She asked him a question that he had no obligation to answer. He had no obligation to any of them. And yet… “No,” he said, still not taking that drink. Whether it was his own conviction or the one beaten into him, he didn’t falter. Much. “I wouldn’t…” The empty fist at his side clenched. It was the town. The town pried open his iron mouth, his caged up chest, and forced him to speak. His voice rasped along the basement walls. “This is what I do. It’s what I know and I’m good at it. That’s the real shit part, y’know? I’m good at somethin’ and it’s this.” He couldn’t give that up and that realization, that slam against his head, finally had him drinking.

Every part of him was resisting. Erin could see it before he even spoke. Something fired up in her, somewhere deep in her gut and she pushed back. “Yeah, a corpse you brought to me. Because this is what I do too. But I can—I’m trying to remember this isn’t who I am,” she argued, frustration seeping through weary cracks. “What other choice do we have?” That muddy stain on the floor felt like it was screaming at her. Fucked. God, that description felt more appropriate the longer it simmered. She set the scalpel down and moved from around the table, abandoning any thoughts of finishing the extraction right now. “Okay, okay, fine. I get that,” she nodded. It wasn’t her place to dig or judge how he lived when there was a refrigerator of human organs just behind them. That wasn’t the point though—she didn’t care what he did. Jesus, wasn’t that obvious by now? “Good, bad, fucked—whatever.” She pointed a bloody glove at the stain, a surge of certainty taking over where precaution should have prevailed. “But that mess is what happens when you give up and give into it. I don’t want that and you sure as hell shouldn’t accept that either.”

Nicodemus started some where he stood. He didn't open his mouth to argue against her because she was right. The hand he clenched into a fist pulsed, slowly. He was the source of his own stress and yet he could try to will it away all the same. It felt wrong to find her beautiful in that moment and he hated himself for it, as confused and silently bewildered as he was looking at her. "I can get rid of your boss." His voice strained as he said it, trying to find that humor from before. They were in too deep for that and beneath it all, it was muffled. She came around close to him and he rooted himself to the floor, fighting every piece of him that had him wanting to go for the same door he had walked in. He had been so damn rootless before. Now he had too many. He swallowed his thoughts down as he looked at Erin, ferocious and refusing to accept the hand she had been dealt. And where he was resolute, she refused to accept that too. Whether to laugh or run, he didn't know. Both nervous responses. He did neither, rather braved the smallest step forward, spoke to her with a low, quiet voice. "What the hell happened, Erin?" His gaze moved from the blood spot to her eyes. "What are we doin'?"

He was starkly silent again. It was suffocating this time. Erin’s heart pounded while she waited for him to bolt, or yell. Demolish a glass with his bare hands again if she’d pushed down too hard on a nerve. Something. Those things she was prepared for. The way he was looking at her right now? Not that. Wasn’t at all prepared for the way it disarmed her so quickly either. “Don’t be an idiot,” she shook her head at his offer, letting out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been keeping in. What had happened? They’d gone from their usual banter to arguing to this in the blink of an eye. But she didn’t move. Didn't flinch or break eye contact, feeling like she was finally allowed to look at something she’d been wanting to for a long time now. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly, much of her previous gusto gone. But fuck, was she ever tired of thinking about it. Tired of holding back. Wasn’t in her nature to do so anyway, and it felt like that part of herself was fighting to tooth and nail to be released. And she did. Fuck it. She wanted this. She peeled the gloves off, dropping them to the ground, eyes falling to his lips. It was the only real sign she gave him before she took that last step forward. Hands brushing against prickly skin as they cupped his jaw, pulling his lips down to hers. Slowly at first, testing the waters, but sure. More sure than she’d been about anything a long time.

“Idiot, yeah. Dumbass sounds right too.” Nicodemus huffed. A capable dumbass. Or at least, he thought he was. Much rather talk about being a dumbass than any possible moral responsibility or self-respect he should have. But then she was looking at him and he wasn’t thinking about himself at all. His thoughts stayed confined to the space between them that grew smaller with each breath. Watching her take her gloves off probably shouldn’t have stirred something in him, but it did and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He froze as her hands touched his face and he waited for the bait and switch. He didn’t wait long. He didn’t need to. It never came. For all the death she touched, her hands felt warm against his skin. Her lips against his did too. Fuck, he was tired of being frigid. Maybe Erin was too. Maybe, for a minute or an hour, that could be enough. With a crash, the glass in his hand fell to the basement floor as one hand pressed lightly against the side of her neck, his thumb against her jawline. The other came to tentatively hover over the small of her back as he leaned into her. The hunter moved with no expectation, matched the pace she set. A small, quiet groan hovered in his chest as he pulled away for a breath to look at her. “Is this...Fuck, is this okay?”

Erin heard the glass shatter beside them but hardly flinched. Didn’t think about much of anything outside of how gentle his hands and his lips felt as he kissed her back, pulled her closer. Surprised her only a little with that, considering how hard he projected that rough outer shell of his. She was already breathing harder when he pulled away. Was this okay? It felt more than okay, she wanted to say, slipping one hand down his chest. Felt good. Really good. She pulled nervously at the fabric of his shirt while she nodded. “Yeah,” was the only word she could manage. Her other hand found the back of his neck to pull him forward again. Couldn’t stop herself when she kissed him again, this time with more confidence. Didn’t want to stop, if she was being honest. That was an overwhelming new feeling sitting tightly on her chest. Fuck. She reared her head back suddenly, biting her lip. “This is okay with you too, right?” She asked in turn, realizing she hadn’t even bothered to give him a chance to speak. Her nails gently scratched the back of his head through the short hair there. “We can—we can definitely stop. If you want,” she nodded, though her eyes remained on his lips until she had the better sense to meet his again.

His breath came out as a quiet, shuddered mess as they separated. Nicodemus could feel his heart hammering under her hand. Felt surprisingly vulnerable. She was close enough to slip a knife into his belly. But he wasn’t in a fight, this wasn’t survival. Maybe, for a minute, it was living. Whatever the fuck that even meant. The hand on her neck slipped further back, the pads of his fingers absently circling the skin at her nape. She pulled him in again and that time, he braved pressing her in closer to him. He forgot about the blood underneath them or the blood on the table. It wouldn’t be going anywhere. The longer they kissed, the more he lost any stoicism. He became fluid, became like a slow fire. He pulled away for a second to look at her, at the same time she did, and made no effort to move. In answer to her question, he found her mouth again with his and gently, barely nipped at her bottom lip. Then, he pulled back again. He closed his eyes. Took in a long, slightly shaky breath. In spite of it all, a nervous smirk appeared. “I don’t--” The anxiety gathered in his throat and he swallowed it. He lifted his hand from her back and lifted her chin slightly with it, tried to find her eyes with his own. “I don’t got any expectations, Erin,” he said, voice a low thunder rumble. “I’ll follow your lead, alright? Tell me to go and I will. Tell me to stay and I will. I’d...I’d want to. If you did.”

The pause that lingered before his answer weighed heavily on her and for a moment, Erin was confident she’d fucked up. That some invisible line had been crossed and that he’d pack up and run out of there. Right out of town, if he wanted. There was nothing keeping him here, no obligation--not even their mutual employer. Said so himself. But that wasn’t what she saw in his eyes. Just a gentle fear, one that washed over her, dousing those thoughts. Softened her resolve--what little was left of it, anyway. Her hand moved from his chest to cover his own, holding it against her cheek. “Then stay,” she answered, a warmer smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite the way her voice shook just slightly. “I want you to stay.” Final answer. She started to move in closer to him again when the glass crunched under her boot. Blinked, glanced around to where they were. The body cut open on the table next to them, the others in the wall of coolers opposite them. A deep, nervous laugh shook her. Jesus. She turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand, holding it as she let their hands drop down. But she didn’t let his go, tugging him towards her as she moved backwards to the stairs. “Just--not here, specifically?” She quirked a brow, trying to inject some lightness back into the moment.

Nicodemus had been so ready for her to give him the word, tell him to go, that when she did anything but, he was momentarily stunned stupid. Reduced to mere blinking before he got his shit together. Her words and hands said the exact same thing. If he looked for deception, he would come up empty. A boyish smile, one that lifted a few years off him, came to life. And at the crack of glass, broke into a snorted laugh as he came to the same realization she did. The tension, the nervousness, broke into a laugh and he dipped his head to laugh into the skin of her. For a night, it’d feel good to just laugh. He could allow himself that, if only for a moment. “Yeah,” he said, lips against her neck before he stood up again and looked at her. It was hard to stop smiling, even with the heat that overwhelmed any cold he might have felt. The chill lingered in him but he ignored it. “Better not to have an audience, huh?” He followed close behind her, fingers trailing up her palm and around her slim wrist then back again. “I’m followin’. Sure as shit ain’t goin’ anywhere now.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #281

“is there a method to your madness, is it all about pride? ‘cuz everyone i know, they’ve got a demon inside.”

Has anyone ever told you that you looked like a celebrity? No, just a video game character and an animated movie girl when I had black hair. What color is the pillowcase(s) on your bed? Brown. Do you have a favorite day of the week? Tuesday because it’s reset day in WoW and as a mount farmer, that means I get to try my raids for the week again to continue to be denied. :’) Have you ever been in an art show? An art show, I don’t think so. I’ve had two or three things in an art museum, though. Would you consider yourself to be well-exposed to life or sheltered? I’m pretty split down the middle, I’d say. I’ve seen far more emotional pain than I think most young adults have, but at the same time, I’ve very under-exposed to adult experiences. How high is your pain tolerance? It depends on the type of pain. I can particularly say I do NOT handle stomach pains well, though. Have you ever played the game Halo? Nah, those weren’t my type. Have you ever had to learn lines for a play/skit/movie? Only songs sung together for plays in elementary school. Never solo. Do you like your nose? … Sure? Kissing someone with facial hair, do you mind? I don’t care. Would you ever like to be a stunt person? I’m fucking dumb, I read this and thought “you mean little people?” until I read the last person’s answer lmaooo. Anyway, no. I’m not ballsy enough for that shit. Are you a pyromaniac? I find fire pretty, but it still can scare me if I’m too close to it. Are you one of those people who listen to songs on repeat? 110%, it’s literally what I’m doing now lmao. Can any of your friends sing very well? SARA. Would you ever enter any kind of pageant? No, no, no, no. I really don’t support pageants of any type I can think of, beauty in particular. What a way to scream “HEY THEY’RE BETTER THAN YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!”, again, especially in beauty pageants. That fucks people up. What a way to start things like self-loathing, eating disorders, body dysphoria, etc. Do you have piano fingers? Mom has always told me that, “like Grammy.” Have you ever slept on a beach? YIKES, no. I ain’t fuckin’ with the tides going in and out or just a massive wave. I’d also feel WAY too vulnerable. Would you like to be taller? I’m cool with my current height. Are you a fan of piercings on the opposite sex? I just like piercings in general. Have you ever been attacked by an animal? No, besides play getting too rough. Is there a movie that makes you cry every single time you watch it? It’s easy to do that lol. The Notebook in particular will 100% make me tear up. What's your opinion on Johnny Depp? He’s an incredibly talented actor that I find very attractive, but I don’t know him as a person. Can you speak in different accents? Just British and southern. Who was the last person you mocked/mimicked? My nephew, playfully of course. If you write, isn't writer's block the most horrible thing? THE ABSOLUTE WORST. What size shirt do you normally wear? Ugggghhh generally 2XL, I think. It can be one size smaller or one size larger depending on the shirt. Has anyone ever aimed a gun at you? Yikes, no. Have you ever written a song? Just poems. Do you believe there is life on other planets? It’s possible, but I don’t particularly lean a certain way, I think. The universe is just… infinite, you know? But also the circumstances that life rose within Earth were so remarkably perfect to support it that I don’t entirely know if it’s been duplicated elsewhere. When was the last time you fell? Around two weeks ago? I have extremely low blood pressure naturally but also amplified by medications’ side effects, and I got out of bed too fast when I woke up. Hurt my knees pretty bad and barely missed my head hitting the couch. Do you have any sort of debt? I do NOT want to think about this. Is there a specific time period that interests you? The era of dinosaurs of course, as well as the Renaissance, just to name a couple. Do any of your friends own an expensive car? *shrugs* Have you ever been on a train? No. Have you ever been in a parade? No. Are you, or anyone you know, an atheist? I know plenty. Have you ever sent a celebrity fan mail? No. Have you ever been in a musical? No. Is there a friend's family that makes you feel like you're family too? Yeah, Sara’s. Even though I’ve only been with them not that long of a time, they’re wonderful and made me feel so welcome. Do you ever have a fear of getting close to new people? Boy, do I!!!!! It’s funny though, because at the same time, I want to be close with people; I want to rush to the point I have a close friend. It’s weird. What is the worst things about work? N/A And the best? N/A Do you like to sleep in? Not really, honestly. I feel groggy and lazier than I naturally am lmao. Do you like to be an early bird? Well I’m in my best mood in the morning, but I don’t like waking up early. However, I’ve been planning a morning routine to adopt once we move that involves waking up at like 7 or so, so we’ll see how much I enjoy mornings then. But oh boy do I have a habit of saying I’ll do something and then not doing it, so… What is something you notice you just don't watch? History stuff and usually action. Last thing that bothered you even if just a little bit? Something Miss Tobey said to me a few days ago. Last thing that seemed a blessing from above? I don’t believe in supernatural “blessings,” but I’ll bite. The thing that made me happiest recently was uhhhh… I actually don’t know. Nothing that REALLY felt “blessing-ish.” Do you usually drink diet or regular soda? Regular; I can’t do diet. It tends to taste horrible but more importantly the artificial sweetener gives me a wicked headache. Are you on a diet? Not a diet, no. I’m more so just trying to make it a habit to simply eat better and not snack. Someone you highly respect who is not in your family? Sara’s dad. Did you say 'goodnight' to anyone last night? I don’t think I did. Does anyone ever comment on the appearance of your handwriting? People tend to point out it’s really nice. Have you looked at anyone's Facebook profile lately? Whose? Nah. Did you have a cake for your last birthday? What kind? Yeah, red velvet. Can you recall the first horror film you ever watched? How old were you? I actually don’t think I can. Maybe Paranormal Activity? Or The Blair Witch Project? When’s the last time that you mailed a letter or a package to someone, and who was it to? Sara’s bday gift I think. The last book that you checked out from the library? I haven’t done that in years. What was your pet’s last vet visit concerning? Roman got neutered, and the only time I took Venus to the vet was when I first got her and she refused food for almost a year. Changed the tactic of warming the mouse up and she was more than happy to snag it. Which animals do you tend to go check out first at the pet store? The reptiles, because they’re closest and also my favorite section. Last medication or item that you picked out from the drugstore? Nicole picked up a bunch of my prescriptions that needed refilling. Do you usually have a big list or a small list when you go to the grocery store? I don’t do the shopping here, so it’s not my choice. How much was the last check you deposited? How about the last amount that you took out? I have no clue. Have you ever been admitted into the emergency room? For what? Being suicidal and then a suicide attempt. Have you ever been arrested before? Ridden in the back of a police car? No to the first, but yes to the second because that’s just how you’re transported from the ER to the psych hospital here. Have you ever been a victim of a house fire? Thank God no. When did you graduate high school? 2014. How much gas can fit in your gas tank? N/A Does your vehicle break down a lot? N/A What’s the longest you’ve ever had to wait before being seated at a sit-down restaurant? I want to say at LEAST 45 minutes once. Can’t remember why it was so busy, though. Have you ever had a cavity before? How about a root canal? A tooth pulled? Braces? I’ve had cavities and braces, but thank Christ no root canals, and I’ve never had to have a tooth pulled by the dentist, either. Which art forms do you appreciate the most? Man, you can’t ask this to someone who enjoys art so deeply. Like I really don’t know what I enjoy *most*. Music can give me chills, poetry can be so rich and, well, poetic, and traditional artwork strikes awe and makes you wonder how they do it. I just adore art. What is your favorite zoo animal that you would like to set free? To start, I have very mixed feelings about zoos, but I guess I am *mostly* in favor of humane, adequately providing captivity to a certain degree as this allows for conservation of especially endangered species, and zoos also make it easier to study and understand the silent voices of those we share the earth with. As well, they offer a safe environment to expose the fearful to all sorts of animals, and I feel it is very, very important for humans as the alpha species to care for and understand (as best our language barriers allow) our wonderful neighbors. That being said, I definitely believe that a lot of zoos under-provide for their animals, and this is horribly heartbreaking so that I absolutely disagree with their “right” to own and display animals, but for this specific question, I am going to use my state’s zoo as the standard here. Ashboro, imo is pretty damn great and generous to their animals (you should see the miles of land the elephants, bison, antelope, and rhinos have!), but the exhibit that comes to mind first when mentioning animals I’d like to set free iiiis… you know, I don’t know. I was going to say the polar bears since it can get STUPID hot here in the summer and their abode doesn’t have a great amount of ice that survives the sun, but at the same time I’d be very wary about returning a polar bear home for… obvious reasons. I say “I don’t know” because I’m not gonna pretend to know what ample space is for so many different kinds of animals. Damn, now I really wanna go there. Wow this was a long answer to a p simple question lmao. Favorite kind of fish? I don’t have a distinctly “favorite” fish, really. I don’t know enough of ‘em, but I can say I really like clownfish and angelfish. What kinds of museum artifacts fascinate you? Whew, as someone who took Art History just last year in school, ancient art pieces of all sorts! It is so, so fascinating, watching the evolution of art and to see how the urge to just create extends so, so far back into history. Have you ever gone to court before? For a disability case, yes. Also to convince a judge that I didn’t need to stay in a mental hospital for I think the original plan was around six months. What is the last song that you danced to? Ha ha I watching Hotel Transylvania with my niece and nephew and did the macarena with ‘em. What’s your favorite alcoholic drink? Margaritas or sangrias. Is there anyone that you’ve visited in jail? No. Are you more likely to fly in an airplane, or pick people up/drop them off at the airport? Historically, pick people up. Which sporting event would you be most likely to sit through? Dance competitions. Favorite flavor of ice cream? Cone or dish? Any sprinkles? My favorite Basic Bitch flavor is vanilla, just with chocolate syrup. Cone or dish just depends on what I’m feelin’, really. I hate sprinkles on anything; the texture throws me off. Have you ever cut your own hair? No. What do you eat most frequently? Uggghhhh some form of bread, probably. Are you a fan of video games? Yeah, but not as much as I used to be. What's your favorite color combination? Idk really, I like a lot. I will say though that orange and black excites me bc Halloween Vibes. Did you share a locker at school? No. What's one sport you could never play? Wrestling, ew. Have you ever sung karaoke? Oh god no. What is the oldest age you think should wear makeup? lmao BRO tell me this a joke How old were you when you went on your first date? Idr, sometime in the 7th grade, if group dates in middle school even count? lol Has anyone besides your family seen you naked? Yeah. If so, who? An ex and probably doctors at some point? Did your parents sign you up for anything you hated as a child? Sunday school, really. Have you purchased any cool objects from a foreign country? Considering I’ve never left the country, no. Are you on a laptop or a desktop computer right now? I only have a laptop. Do you remember anyone's number by heart? No, but I seriously need to memorize my mom’s. Do you live above, below, or on the Equator? Above. Do you know how to use Photoshop? I know how to do a decent number of things, but I’m definitely no expert. Where was your first job? I was a sales associate at GameStop. What's the best place you have ever eaten? Olive Garden is fucking fantastic, fite me about it. Do you own a hair straightener? No, I don’t need one. Are you barefoot right now? I always am at home unless it’s cold enough to need slippers. Are you subscribed to any magazine? Nah. Do you need AC right now? No; it’s actually pretty cold inside rn. Do more people call you by a nickname or your first name? It’s just a derivative of my first name; “Britt.” But I guess that classifies as a nickname. Name something you're proud of. Deciding to actually *try* to move on and making massive progress through it with That Person. Lately I’ve wondered if I truly have, though. My PTSD has been really bad of the late. Does any accent annoy you? I can’t say it “annoys” me, given you can’t really control your accent, but I do find it difficult to understand extremely southern accents, even as a local. Do you take vitamins? This just reminded me I’ve been out of my Vitamin D prescription for a while… oops. I’m supposed to take it for my legs. When was the last time you took aspirin or some other pain reliever? Yesterday, actually. I had a pretty bad headache. When was the last time you deeply regretted something? God, last night, I was remembering and accepting some things. Lemme just say I regret the everloving fuck out of the subject. What is something that you regularly wear that makes you stand out? Besides my lip ring, nothing in particular. Do you prefer small birthday parties or big ones? Small. I just don’t like big gatherings in general. What song are you listening to now? “Creatures X: To The Grave” by Motionless In White. What was the most traumatic experience of your life? The breakup w/ Jason. I’ve told the story enough in surveys and I don’t wanna recite it again. Who was your childhood best friend? Brianna. Are you still friends now? On Facebook, anyway, but we don’t talk. If not, why? We just drifted apart. What is one career you don't think you could do no matter how much it paid? Butcher. No fucking way. Have you ever edited Wikipedia? No. Have you ever edited any other wiki? Oh yeah; I’m an admin at the Silent Hill wiki and have invested hours upon hours upon hours helping out there for years. I’m also a content moderator at the Team Ico wiki, and I’ve also assisted a lot at the meerkats wiki because it is a fucking grammatical and formatting catastrophe. I think that’s it? Wait no, I did a few fixes on the Dragons of Atlantis wiki when it was still at the Kabam website, too. Is there a website [besides social networking] that you check almost daily? Yeah, a few. Do you get scared when you know some virus or sickness is being passed? I wouldn’t say I get scared, no. Just more aware and cautious. What’s the worst illness you’ve had? I’ve had a fucking wicked stomach virus before. (TMI alert?) I would not stop puking to the point it was agonizing to the point of tears because my muscles were so exhausted. Which do you prefer: M&M's, Skittles, or Reese's Pieces? BITCH can I choose all???? But in almost any chocolate-related case, I will choose a Reese’s product. Where on your body would you never get a tattoo? I don’t plan on getting a face tattoo, or at least a big one. Maybe something small and cute. OH YEAH EW absolutely never getting my sclera tattooed. That looks painful as a motherfucker. Honestly, have you ever stuck gum under a table or desk? No, that shit is disgusting. If your parents could read your thoughts, would you be in trouble? Not usually. Mom might be mad sometimes when I’m angry at her. Have you ever egged somebody's house or car? No, that’s childish as shit. My childhood house was egged once, so it pisses me off especially. Do you like licorice? UGH no, that shit is disgusting. Did anybody ever read bedtime stories to you when you were younger? My mom did. Which natural disaster do you find the most terrifying? Tornadoes or earthquakes. Do you have a favorite Johnny Depp movie? What is it? Alice in Wonderland. If I gave you a Yo-Yo right now, could you do any tricks? Nope.

[freddiesaysalright]

Dancing With Ben Week 7

A Ben Hardy x Reader Fic  Latin Night - Samba

Summary: Reader is one of the pro dancers on Dancing With the Stars. It’s her second season on the show, and this time, her partner is none other than Ben Hardy. Will they win the Mirror Ball? Maybe they’ll win something even more meaningful!

Word Count: 3.7K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @twigleektribute23, @ionlyhavepicturesofflowers, @asquiresofftime, @caborhapch, @iwasnothingbutacityboy, @a-kind-of-magik, @anxious-diabetic, @royalblueviper, @toms-irish-girl, @doingalrightt, @borhapqueen92, @angiefangirlworld-2, @ziggymay, @pink-lemo, @riddikuluslypotter, @wearewiththebands, @i-was-born-like-this, @prince-lucifer-v, @mariekuuuuuh, @teenwolflover28, @minigranger, @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls, @theprettyfandom, @sam-mercurry-sixx If you want to be added, let me know!

A/N: SHOO-WEE things are heating up this week! Hope y’all enjoy :)

Week 1  Week 2  Week 3 Week 4  Week 5  Week 6

Week 7 here we go!!!

Excitement captured your spirit at the prospect of the upcoming week. It was just you and Ben again. No James, no Joe. Joe was still in town for a couple days, but he and Ben would hang out outside rehearsal. When you arrived for the first day of the new week, Ben had beat you there. He beamed at you as you walked into the studio, and your stomach turned with joy. 

“Hey!” you said.

He hugged you and lifted you into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist and held tightly to him. He kissed your cheek before setting you down. 

“So, what have we got this week?” he asked.

“It’s Latin night!” you answered with an enthusiastic wiggle of your hips. “We have a samba. Super fun, kinda sexy, I think you’re gonna love it.”

“As long as I’m dancing with you,” he replied.

You blushed. “You can always dance with me.”

A beat passed and you looked at him.

“Can you believe we’re just past the halfway point?” you pointed out. 

“It feels like so much longer than that,” he said. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

“Me too,” you agreed. 

He hugged you again. This time, resting his chin atop your head as you let your forehead fall against his chest.

“I don’t want it to end,” you said quietly.

“Me neither,” he replied. “But let’s not be too sad, okay? We’re only halfway through.”

“You’re right,” you said brightly. “Let’s enjoy this as much as we can. But you have to promise me we’ll still be friends after this.”

It hurt to use the word “friend” but you didn’t let on. He offered a small smile.

“Always,” he promised. “I could never forget you.”

You broke away from him and shook your body out. 

“Enough sappy stuff,” you said cheekily. “Let’s dance, Hardy.”

“You got it, coach.”

You began walking him through the basic samba steps. Ben actually struggled a little with the parts that weren’t in hold and he had to be moving his hips. You placed your hands there and guided him slowly through the motions. Eventually, he got it down.  

The samba seemed to throw him for a loop, so the first day was slow going. You didn’t mind. You were starting to wonder when this was going to become challenging for him. 

“It’s good to know you’re not naturally talented at everything,” you joked when he began to get frustrated. 

He smiled in spite of himself. “Believe me, there’s plenty of things I’m not good at.”

“Like what?”

“Samba, for one.”

You giggled. “Besides that?”

He thought for a moment. “I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, but when I do, I’ll let you know.”

You laughed and pressed on through rehearsal. 

“Okay, so on this count, we’re gonna roll our hips in unison,” you explained, placing him in front of you. “And with your left hand, you’re gonna reach back, and smack my ass a little.”

He whipped around to face you. “I’m sorry - what?”

“What, are you morally opposed to a spanking?” you teased.

His face went bright red and you laughed.

“Look, it’s not even a direct hit,” you said. “It’s more like my hip, and you only have to hit it twice.”

“Twice?!”

“You don’t even have to hit it hard.”

“I don’t want to hit it at all!”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, no?” you said with a smirk. “What if I told you I’ve been a baaaaad girl?”

He frowned at you and you burst into fresh laughter.

“Oh, come on!” you cried. “That’s funny! Don’t be such a crab.”

“Y/N, please, I’m being serious,” he returned. “I don’t like the idea of treating you that way.”

You softened. That was so sweet it could give you a cavity. It reminded you of when you were rehearsing your rumba and he accidentally grabbed your breast after a turn. He had apologized profusely for several minutes. 

“Ben,” you said gently, taking his hand. “It’s just choreography. I know how much you respect me. It’s why I feel okay including this. I trust you.”

“Really?” he wondered.

“With my life, Ben,” you assured him. “If you still aren’t sure, you can mime it while we’re  going slow. But once we start doing it in real time, I want you to go for it.”

He sighed. “Alright, then.”

By the end of the day, things were still going slow. You still felt like you were on the right track though. As you packed up, Ben received another invite from Joe and  Rami. You told him to go, of course, and he sweetly wished your goodnight. You gathered your things and handed your mic pack to the cameraman. Clark approached you.

“So, Y/N,” he said. “Do you have any plans for dinner?”

“Nah,” you said with a shrug. “I’m just gonna head home and make myself some pasta. Probably watch some trashy TV. Y’know, a typical night in.” You walked past him and out the door. “See you tomorrow!”

You breathed a sigh of relief when you reached your car. You knew Clark was asking you out, and you didn’t know how to turn down a producer. He wasn’t your immediate boss, but you were fairly certain he had the influence to have you removed from the show. You tried to come up with how to reject him politely and still be firm enough so that he didn’t think he had a chance. It was complicated, and you gave it up. It would all depend on what he said, anyway.

The next day, you got to rehearsal right on time so Ben would be there and you wouldn’t be alone with Clark. But just as you stepped into the studio, you got a text from Ben.

It said: Breakfast with Joe ran late, but I’m on my way.

You groaned.

“Hey, Y/N,” Clark greeted.

You realized the camera guys were not in the room yet and you got nervous.

“Morning,” you returned. 

“Can we talk for a minute?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Clark stepped close to you as you put your things against the wall. 

“Look, I…” he began, but trailed off.

You were about to tell him that you had an idea of what he wanted, but just as you opened your mouth, he yanked you to him and forced his lips against yours. You struggled against him before finally getting your hands on his chest and shoving him hard away from you. You were so forceful, he actually stumbled.

“What the hell?!” you demanded.

He moved toward you again. You tried to step back, but you were right against the wall now. 

“Come on, you don’t say no to him,” he said, reaching for your hand.

You snatched it away. “Who?”

“Ben,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You give it up for him, it’s obvious. You gave it up for James too. Why not me?”

Your eyes went wide as rage coursed through you.

“I haven’t ‘given it up’ to anyone on or associated with this show,” you spat. “The fact that you would even suggest it is the most offensive thing anyone has ever said to me. In my entire career. Now you better back away from me because I might actually hit you.”

“I don’t think -”

“Back the fuck way from me!” you barked at him.

He startled and did as you said. You grabbed your things off the floor and marched out of the studio, fuming.

“Y/N, wait!” Clark called, coming after you.

You whirled around, stopping him in tracks.

“No!” you shouted. 

It was so loud, the other couples poked their heads out of their studios and watched. You were so angry, you couldn’t even feel embarrassed.

“I’ve never been so insulted in my life!” you yelled. “Let’s say I did have sex with Ben or James. I didn’t, but even if I did, what right does that give you to my body? None! I could fuck every man in Los Angeles and still it would not mean that I have to fuck you!”

Clark opened his mouth and stammered but had no words. At that moment, Ben walked through the door of the building. He looked between you and Clark, sensing the tension. You shot Clark a glare and marched over to Ben.

“Come on,” you said. “We’re not rehearsing today.”

“What happened?” he wondered, looking back at Clark as you headed for the door.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, let’s just get out of here!”

You shoved the door open, leaving your co-stars and producer stricken in the hallway. Ben followed you outside and to your car, getting quickly into your passenger seat. 

“Where are we going?” he asked as you started the engine.

“Newport Beach,” you told him stiffly.

“Y/N, please tell me what happened,” he said. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, he kissed me,” you said. You angrily explained the rest of the scenario to him as you got on the highway and headed south.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ben said when you finished. “I hate that for you.”

“I hate it too!” you replied. “Why does everyone think this? Everyone - including you - thought James and I were doing it. Now everyone thinks we’re doing it! Is it something about me? What is it that makes everyone assume I jump on every swinging dick that comes my way? What the fuck?!” 

You slammed your hand on the steering wheel and groaned in frustration.

“I don’t think it’s about you, really,” he said. 

You shot him a questioning look.

“It is, partly,” he went on. “Because it begins from a place of thinking how attractive you are. And that any man would be daft not to try and be with you.”

“That doesn’t mean I agree to that,” you argued.

“Well, that’s probably about as far as most people get,” he said. “There are two attractive people, they seem very comfortable with each other, they must be having sex.”

“Well, that’s fucking stupid,” you said. “It relies entirely on assumptions. The assumption that I’m straight, the assumption that I’m single, the assumption I’m attracted to these people. It’s ridiculous.”

“It is,” he agreed. “But I don’t think it’s about you being some wicked seductress. Maybe for some, but it wasn’t like that when I thought about you and James.”

“You thought that just because James and I are hot and close that we were sleeping together?” you asked.

“It was mainly the closeness,” he pointed out. “I certainly thought he would be stupid not to be with you. Because you are beautiful, but in ways far beyond how you look. And he knows that too.”

That made your brain a little fuzzy. Of course, you could not tell him the reason you and James weren’t attracted to each other. Even if James was straight, you never felt that way about him. Not the way you felt about Ben. That realization nearly made your heart stop.

“Don’t -” you began but you had to clear your throat. “Don’t try and butter me up with your sheepish charm, Hardy.”

He chuckled. “I’m just trying to clarify for you.”

“Hold my hand,” you requested, taking one of the wheel.

He smiled and obliged.

When you arrived at the beach, about forty-five minutes later, you both got out of the car and headed toward the sand. You watched the people walking, swimming, and sunbathing. It wasn’t terribly crowded, which you liked. You took a seat and Ben joined you. You took his hand again, needing his touch.

“I’m sorry for cancelling rehearsal,” you said. 

“I understand,” he assured you.

Your throat was suddenly thick with emotion. Tears stung your eyes and you tried to wipe them away before Ben noticed. It was too late.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently.

You sniffled. “It’s just - I hate that I had to act that way. But I couldn’t let him know how scared I was.”

“You were scared?”

You nodded and he pulled you into his arms. You buried your face in his neck.

“When he had me in the room alone,” you said shakily. “I didn’t know what he was going to do. I didn’t know if he would listen when I told him to back off. I got angry just to get some power back. But I was terrified.”

He cradled your face in his hands and made you look at him.

“You were very brave, darling,” he said. “And very lucky.”

You nodded and collapsed back into him. He held you as you sat on the hot sand, watching the waves lap at the shore. It would have been beautiful if you were so worried about what tomorrow would bring. 

You spent the day with Ben at the beach, leaving to get food periodically. As the sun began to set over the horizon, you decided to head back to LA. You went to Ben’s hotel, where he packed a few things and then came with you to your apartment for another sleepover. You needed him right now. And you wanted to be sure he would arrive to the studio with you. No matter what happened, you would be together.

You showered when you got to your place. Ben watched TV. He took one after you, and you got in bed and checked your phone. When Ben emerged from the bathroom, steam clinging to his body like a fog, you made a point to not stare. You didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. He settled beside you, wearing just some gym shorts. 

You smiled at him. “Thank you for being here for me so much.”

“I’ll always be there for you,” he said, pulling you into his warm body. “And if tomorrow, we’re kicked off the show or whatever, then it is what it is.”

“I could be kicked off the show,” you said. “They’d get another pro for you.”

He cupped your cheek, stroking it with his thumb, then shook his head.

“I’ll only dance with you,” he said. “I started this journey with you, and that’s how I’ll end it.”

You held each other’s gaze for a long moment without saying anymore. Just feeling each other. He leaned toward you, and once again, you thought he might kiss you. Once again, his lips landed on your forehead as he held you closer. You were a little disappointed. What if it was your last night? 

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to take the chance either. You knew how you felt, but you had no idea if he felt the same. Ben respected you and liked you. But was he falling for you? Was that how you wanted to describe what was happening? Could you take the leap and really fall?

No.

You both remained where you were. In each other’s arms and hearts, and yet painfully unaware of the latter.

The next day, you showed up to rehearsal at the usual time. At first, it seemed that nothing had changed. The other couples were arriving or in their studios. You and Ben headed to yours. Clark was nowhere to be seen. Instead, you were greeted by the woman who was usually an associate producer, Kelly.

“Hey, guys,” she said. “So, Clark told us what happened yesterday.”

You gulped. Had he told the truth?

“He resigned,” she continued. “So, I’m taking over for the rest of the season for you guys.”

“Wait, what?” you gasped. “What exactly did he say happened?”

Kelly told you Clark’s story. It was the real story. And you had evidently shamed him so deeply that he left the show.

“So, I’m not in any trouble?” you wondered.

“No,” she said. “But, the executive producers do ask that you not go public with this. They don’t want the tone of the show to be affected by the actions of one producer.”

“Done,” you agreed. “I just want to keep doing the show.”

“Then by all means, start rehearsal,” she said with a smile.

You hugged Ben before you got started. All worries about Clark dissipated. You would not have to be parted from Ben just yet.

“We really are lucky, huh?” you said. 

“So lucky,” he agreed.

With that, you began rehearsal. You were able to speed up the routine by the afternoon, which you were thankful for. It seemed missing a day did not mean Ben was missing any steps. Until, you got to the part where he was supposed to tap your butt, when he hesitated, throwing off the rhythm and forcing you to stop.

“Ben,” you groaned. “You said -”

“I know!” he cut across you. “I still feel weird about it.”

“What?” you teased. “Afraid you’ll enjoy it too much?”

“Oh, come on! I’m trying to be polite!”

“Just smack my ass, Hardy!”

No sooner had the words left your mouth than Ben’s hand made firm contact with your bum. Everything slowed down as you sucked in a breath and felt heat shoot to your lower stomach, a familiar coil tightening. A soft “oh” fell from your lips, before you captured your bottom one between your teeth to hold back a moan that was creeping up your throat.

“Y/N?” Ben said.

You could hardly register his voice.

“Y/N, was that alright?” he pressed.

You closed your eyes and nodded. “Yep, good. Just - uh - let me get some water.”

You opened your eyes to see a rather smug look on his face. 

“What?” he repeated to you. “Afraid you’ll enjoy it too much?”

Your mouth fell open and heat rushed to your cheeks. “You’re the one who was scared!”

“Well, I’m certainly not anymore!” he returned with a laugh. “You’re a naughty girl!”

That only made things worse. You choked back a whine had to resist a brutal urge to rub your thighs together to relieve the tension stirring between your legs. You took a large gulp of water. 

“Let’s get back into it,” you said, shaking your head to clear it.

“Whatever you say, coach.”

The rest of rehearsal left you more frustrated than ever. As did the rest of the week.

Show time finally came and you were excited. You and Ben were going second. As you watched the first couple, you felt Ben’s eyes on your legs in the shorts you were wearing. He looked at your legs a lot. He also looked at your chest quite a bit, but he was slick enough about that, that you never caught him. 

“You like the outfit?” you asked.

He nodded. “Very nice.”

“You like yours?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “I think I look pretty cool.”

It was a simple outfit - dark jeans, a white button up, and a jean vest. 

“I told them you prefer to be covered up,” you said.

He blinked at you. “You did?”

“Yeah,” you said simply. “You said at Disney that you don’t like people focusing on your body. So I made sure wardrobe knew to dress you better.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that...and then went to bat for me like that.”

“Of course I did,” you said with a smile. “I want you to feel safe and respected.”

A cheeky smirk claimed his lips. “Well, now I feel really bad that I’m gonna spank you on national television.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t bail on me now, Hardy.”

“Nah, I won’t,” he assured you. “But thank you, seriously. That was really sweet.”

You could only beam at him before you had to go and take your places.

The video package played. True to their word, they did not show any indication there had been a problem with a producer. Then the dance began.

You moved into and out of each other’s arms flawlessly. Ben made it through the part smacking your ass with a grin on his face, so you were reassured he was past his reservations. Overall, the samba turned out successful. It ended with your leg hitched on his hip and his hand gripping your thigh. You met eyes as the final note of music played and you grinned at each other. You laughed and hugged before heading over to the judges.

They had similar feedback to previous dances. Carrie Ann liked the routine and praised Ben’s ability to lead. Len said once again he wished for more traditional samba content. Bruno loved Ben’ natural fluidity in his movements. 

You went to the skybox to once again speak to Erin before getting your scores. She welcomed you and praised the dance.

“So, Y/N, you mentioned in the video package that it’s halfway through the competition now, and you guys shared a really sweet moment,” she said. “Can you tell us more about that?”

“Well, it actually hit me on trio night that we were halfway,” you said. “And like we said, we feel like we’ve known each other forever. He’s truly become my greatest friend, and I’m gonna be a little sad when this journey ends. Because who knows if we’ll even make it to the finale? I’m just enjoying every second with him.”

“Ben, anything to add?” she asked.

“Y/N said it,” he replied. “She’s really just...changed my life. Beyond dancing even.”

“You guys are so sweet,” she said. “I love this partnership. Let’s get your judges scores.”

Carrie Ann scored you a ten. Len scored you a nine. Bruno scored a ten. You were a little bummed about losing your perfect score streak, but you were still at the top of the leaderboard, so you didn’t let it bother you too much. You hugged Ben. You watched the rest of the show, and thankfully, none of the other couples topped your score. You went through another elimination, safe to go on. Sharna and her partner were leaving now.

You changed in the dressing room and then met Ben outside when it was all over. He took your hand as you walked to your car. Without even asking, you knew he was coming over to spend the night again.

“So, what’s next week’s theme?” he asked as you walked.

You shot him an excited smile. “Vegas, baby!” 

[once-upon-a-spemily]

What You Really Need (1/2)

Summary: All Hanna wants is for her two best friends to fall in love, get married, and spend the rest of their lives together. Is that too much for a girl to ask?

A/N: So. I decided to try something...different with this fic. This is an au spemily fic told from Hanna’s perspective. So she (and Caleb) are featured pretty prominently, trying very, very hard to set up Spencer and Emily. I think it’s cute and fun, and I hope you all like it!

Hanna’s a good matchmaker, okay? She’s set up lots of people. She’s good at it. She tells this to Caleb when they’re watching Project Runway (her idea, not his, but god love him, he does actually pay attention) and he just looks over at her from where he’s sitting on the couch, with her legs in his lap.

“I know,” he says. He reaches out, massaging her ankle. Hanna flexes her foot in spite of herself. “What brought this up?”

Hanna shrugs. “Who said it had to be something? Maybe it’s just random?”

Caleb gets this little shit-eating grin like he doesn’t believe that. Hanna huffs. She really can’t get away with anything in front of him. “You know the housewarming we’re having next week?”

“Yeah.”

“I invited Spencer.”

“Cool,” Caleb says. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Hanna shrugs and she unmutes the tv. “I invited Emily, too.”

Caleb just laughs, and Hanna kicks him. “Spencer moved to town, what, two weeks ago? Isn’t it a little early to be messing with her love life?”

Hanna rolls her eyes. “I’ve known that girl my whole life. If anyone knows what she needs, it’s me.”

“Of course,” Caleb says, nodding solemnly. Too solemnly. He’s so full of shit. Hanna kicks him again, just for good measure.

--

It’s not a housewarming party, really. It’s an apartment-warming. She and Caleb will get a house someday, but the apartment is huge, and it’s actually really gorgeous, thank you very much, and Hanna loves any excuse for a party so. Housewarming.

“Han!”

Hanna is already into her second glass of sangria when she hears Spencer call her name.

She immediately peels off from Caleb and runs to Spencer, giving her a big hug.

“Hey!” she says. “You made it!”

She presses a glass of sangria into Spencer’s hand before she can say anything, and then Hanna loops their arm together.

“You ready to meet some people?”

Spencer looks at the drink in her hand apprehensively, but she manages a smile at Hanna. “Sure.”

Look. Look. When she was younger, Hanna might just haul Spencer right over to Emily. But she’s not in high school anymore. She’s not even in college. She’s an adult, and she has tact, and so she bides her time. She introduces Spencer to Mona and they hate each other immediately, as expected.

Then, when Hanna looks across the room and sees that Aria and Emily are talking, Hanna grins to herself, takes Spencer by the hand and drags her over.

“Spencer! This is perfect,” she says. “Spencer, this is Aria Montgomery and Emily Fields. Aria, Em, it’s time for you to meet Spencer Hastings!”

It’s about time for her childhood bestie to meet her college besties and vice versa. Hanna can’t really get swept up in the sentimentality over it, though, because she’s trying not to stare at Spencer as she watches her look at Emily for the first time.

She’s right about this. Hanna knows she’s right about this.

Spencer’s quick about it. She’s subtle. But her eyes rake down Emily’s body before they slide up again, and she’s reaching out her hand, shaking Aria’s first and then Emily’s and shit, it’s barely there, maybe Hanna just wants this too much, but she swears Spencer is staring.

Hanna talks with them for about a minute before she excuses herself to go play host. She waits another five before she calls Aria over because she “needs help with something”.

See? She can be subtle, too.

“It’s so nice to finally meet Spencer,” Aria says as she uncorks a malbec that Hanna definitely could’ve opened on her own. “We’ve only heard about her for what, six years? Seven?”

“Something like that,” Hanna muses, letting her eyes slide over to the corner of the living room where Spencer and Emily are still talking.

Emily is perched on the arm of the couch, hair all swept over one shoulder, looking up at Spencer who’s still standing.

“She’s really nice. You’ve got good taste in friends, Han.”

“Yeah, glad you guys finally got to meet,” she says. “Spencer actually just moved into a place like...five minutes away, so I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of her.”

Emily and Spencer stay glued to each other most of the night, because Hanna is a genius and no one should ever doubt her.

When they do finally peel apart, Hanna sidles up next to Emily, slinging an arm over her shoulder and pressing a dry kiss to Emily’s cheek.

“You know,” she sing-songs to Emily, but like...quietly, so no one else hears. “She’s single.”

Emily rolls her eyes, leaning into Hanna’s side. “She’s hot,” she admits, and Hanna feels like a million bucks, “but I’m seeing someone.”

And now she feels bankrupt.

“What?” Hanna pulls away abruptly. “No you’re not! Since when?”

Emily shrugs. “Few weeks?”

“And you didn’t say anything? What the hell, Em?”

Emily laughs, which Hanna does not appreciate because this is not funny. “We were taking things slow, you goofball, it wasn’t personal or anything.”

Hanna narrows her eyes. It’s deeply personal, actually, but before she can point that out, Spencer is back and handing Emily a cup of...whiskey?

“Where did you find that?” Hanna asked. She knows she didn’t buy any whiskey for the party. So what the hell? Also - Spencer is already getting Emily drinks?

“Oh, Caleb pointed me to it,” Spencer muses.

“Sorry,” Emily says. “The sangria was a little sweet for me.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Spencer mutters. “I think I have a cavity.”

Emily laughs, light and warm, and Hanna catches the way Spencer smiles into her glass.

She. is. So. Right.

It’s just that Emily is so not single.

--

The party goes late, but Aria, Emily and Spencer are the last ones to leave. They, god bless them, actually help Hanna and Caleb clean up.

Hanna’s more than a little wine drunk, and throws plastic cups in a trash bag declaring, “I’m never doing this again. Parties are too much work.”

The others roll their eyes, but she catches the way Spencer leans into Emily to whisper something in her ear, the way Emily bites her lip to try and stifle her laugh. Hanna’s like...99% sure they’re laughing at her but she pretends not to notice.

She’s being nice. She’s letting them have their moment.

Spencer’s the last one to go and Hanna gives her a tight hug.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so glad you’re close,” she says.

“Same,” Spencer replies.

“They’re good, right?” Hanna asks when she pulls away. “Aria and Emily. I was in good hands while you were at Stanford.”

Spencer rolls her eyes, but she smiles. “I already knew that before I even met them. But yes,” she says, “they’re great.”

Hanna nods sagely. “Emily’s really something, isn’t she?”

Spencer hesitates, but after a moment she shrugs. “Yeah. She is. They’re both something.”

Hanna will take that, she supposes. There’s not much she can go with it right now anyway. She feels two hands come up around her, grasping her arms, and she leans back against Caleb. He presses a kiss to her temple.

“Say goodnight Spence,” he says.

“Goodnight Spence.”

Spencer laughs, and Caleb lets go Hanna long enough to get the door for Spencer. “Text us when you’re home,” he says.

“Will do.”

The door closes behind her, and Caleb wraps a blanket around Hanna’s shoulders, pulling her to bed.

--

Her drunk declaration to not throw another party lasts...oh, two months.

Thanksgiving is coming up and now that all of her friends live within driving distance she is going to have Friendsgiving, damnit.

Besides, she happens to know that Emily and Paige split up about a month ago and she figures that’s more than enough time for Emily to be ready to date again.

To date Spencer, specifically.

“Is it better to have them sit next to each other?” Hanna asks as she draws up the millionth version of a seating chart. “Or is across from each other more romantic?”

Caleb looks up from where he’s googling turkey recipes. “Uhhh, who are we talking about?”

She rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers. “Emily and Spencer! Get with the program.”

“This again?”

“Yes! I want to go to their wedding in two years. We’ve got to get a move on!” she says.

Caleb just laughs and goes back to searching. Hanna goes back to, fruitlessly, arranging their friend around their table.

Then, after about five minutes of silence Caleb says, “across from each other. They can look at each other that way. And play footsies or whatever.”

Hanna gets up from her seat, drapes her arms over Caleb and steals a kiss. “Love you,” she says.

He hums, leaning back against her.

She still can’t believe he just said ‘footsies’.

--

Honestly, Hanna could’ve been a party planner if she wanted to. Her eye for detail? Incredible. She has the table set with the usual plates and napkins and such, yes, but she’s made a centerpiece of fall leaves and tiny pumpkins, and there’s a soft glow from the candles that is warm and comforting, but will also leave them all awash in candlelight.

A perfect table for falling in love.

The week leading up to Friendsgiving Hanna called and texted Spencer left a few strong - but subtle! - hints on what to wear.

Hanna almost keels over when Spencer actually shows up in the dress she’d hoped.

It’s a deep maroon dress, which makes Spencer’s eyes pop, and while it’s tasteful, it’s also short enough to show off Spencer’s amazing legs. Spencer also took the time to curl her damn hair and Hanna might legitimately cry.

“Oh my god,” Hanna says. “You look amazing! You put in, like, effort!”

Spencer grunts. “Excuse you!”

Hanan waves a hand. “Sorry, sorry, you know what I meant.”

Spencer grins, pulling Hanna into a hug. “Yeah, yeah I know. I brought wine, by the way.”

Hanna takes the bottles from Spencer and puts them with the rest of the alcohol. Aria’s already there, and she’s dating some guy who’s talking to Caleb on the couch (honestly at this point Hanna only half-bothers to learn the names of Aria’s dates) and Mona couldn’t come, which all told is probably a good thing.

It’ll be a quiet, intimate dinner, and Hanna’s fine with that.

A moment later there’s a knock at the door, and Emily is coming through balancing two different pies. Hanna’s about to go grab one when Spencer swoops in from out of nowhere, relieving Emily of one dish and Hanna can’t help but feel smug.

The feeling increases tenfold when she watches Emily’s eyes trail up Spencer’s legs, taking their time before meeting her gaze.

“Thanks,” she says breathily.

Hanna looks at Caleb, but he’s not paying attention. She’s the only one seeing this right now.

Spencer and Emily set the pies down on the kitchen island and then, Hanna thinks she needs to hold something for support, Spencer is helping Emily out of her coat.

She is a matchmaking god and she is invincible. Fear her.

“Happy Friendsgiving!” Emily says, giving Hanna a big hug. “The turkey smells amazing!”

Hanna laughs. “Please, we both know that’s all Caleb. I didn’t even know how to turn the oven on this morning.”

“She’s only half-kidding!” Caleb calls from the couch.

Emily leans into Spencer then and stage-whispers, “thank god I was in charge of the pies, then.”

Spencer smirks (smirks!) and Hanna looks at Caleb, raising her eyebrows to ask if he’s seeing this. He just shrugs and turns back to what’s-his-name.

“Rude, all of you,” Hanna says. “Now, the alcohol is over there, feel free to help yourself!”

“Okay,” Emily. She turns to Spencer, cupping her elbow gently. “What’s your poison?”

“Surprise me,” Spencer says, and Emily crosses the room to get them both drinks.

These two. Hanna is honest-to-god going to scream. It’s like she doesn’t even have to try. They’re practically already dating.

--

Okay so Caleb is right.

About a few things.

One, yeah maybe Hanna didn’t know how to work the oven but in her defense it’s a new oven and she hasn’t gotten used to it! Sue her!

Two, putting Emily and Spencer across from each other was truly a stroke of genius.

They talk almost the whole night, and their positioning means they basically have to stare at each other, and Hanna strategically placed candles so they’re both bathed in soft light, and they look great, and seriously. Two years. Wedding. Hanna is counting on it.

It’s Caleb’s turn to say what he’s thankful for this year and he just slings his arm over the back of Hanna’s chair and when she tears her gaze away from her friends to look at him, the look in his eyes...shit, it kind of takes the air out of her.

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” he says, and reaches up one finger to graze Hanna’s cheek. “Grateful for this one, every day.”

Hanna melts.

She mumbles something equally corny and hopes he knows she means it from the bottom of her heart.

Then it’s Spencer’s turn. She rakes a hand through her hair and looks around the table. “I’m thankful for everyone at this table…” she trails off. They know she doesn’t mean Aria’s boyfriend. It’s fine. “For helping me make a home so quickly. I think I would’ve been drowning without you.”

Everyone’s saying awwww, and laughing, and Hanna doesn’t miss the shy smile Emily casts towards Spencer.

Yeah. It’s a good night.

--

Aria takes a few pictures of them at the table after dinner, and then finally (finally!) it’s time for pie.

Emily made two. Pumpkin and chocolate pecan. They are both, predictably, amazing, and Hanna is in heaven.

So is Spencer, apparently, because she makes this little moan when she bites into the chocolate pecan one and Emily’s gaze snaps up to hers so fast that Hanna swears she’s going to pull something in her neck.

Hanna has half a mind to call Spencer out on it but then Caleb is offering her a shot of whipped cream and yeah, Hanna gets distracted.

The next time Hanna looks over, Spencer is staring downwards, into her lap, her face illuminated by the blue light of her phone screen.

Hanna doesn’t mind...but then it’s been like three minutes and Spencer still hasn’t looked up and. Um. Rude much?

“Yo, Spence,” Hanna snaps. “Wanna join us or what?”

Spencer looks up, and at least has the decency to look embarrassed as she puts her phone away. “Sorry. Just texting someone.”

Hanna’s about to let it go but Aria is grinning now. “Oooh, who’s the lucky person?”

Spencer grins into her wine glass. “Alex.”

Aria like, legit squeals and leans forward in her seat. “The tennis instructor? Spencer, no!”

Spencer laughs, and it’s ice water down Hanna’s back.

No no no no no.

This cannot be happening. Not again.

She shoots a glance at Emily and notices...nothing. She looks. Fine. Okay, so maybe she pulls back a little so she’s not leaning over the table towards Spencer as much but she seems. Okay. Too okay.

“A tennis coach?” Hanna scoffs. “Pretentious.”

“Hanna!” Aria scolds.

Hanna shrugs. She’s not pouting. She’s not.

--

Everyone’s gone, and Hanna’s sitting on the couch, with pie, and a shot glass of tequila, and she is, now, definitely pouting. Caleb puts the last of the leftovers away and drops down on the couch next to her. He nudges her knee.

“Hey. Tonight was great.”

She nods. “It was really special,” she says.

“So why are you,” he gestures to her, “moping?”

She shows him her phone. Aria’s already sent over some of the pictures she took. There’s one from early in the evening and Emily and Spencer are standing all close to fit in the shot and the light is bouncing off of them softly and their smiles are so real and candid it makes Hanna’s heart swell. These are her friends and she wants them to be happy.

She’s sure this is the best way to make them really, really happy.

Caleb laughs and kisses her forehead. “This again? You did hear Spencer say she’s seeing some tennis coach, right?”

Hanna whines. “But you saw them, they were like...glued to each other all night.”

“Right,” Caleb says. “And that had nothing to do with the fact that you strategically placed them next to each other or anything.”

“They were flirting,” Hanna says. “They have the chemistry! Why do they have such shitty timing!”

Caleb reaches over and grabs her hand, playing with her fingers. “We had shitty timing there for a while,” he says quietly. “We worked out okay.”

Hanna sniffles, and she’s not crying! She’s not. But she leans into Caleb, pressing her face against his shirt sleeve. It smells nice. It smells like him.

“I really thought it was gonna be them.”

Caleb rubs her arm. “I know, babe.”

--

There are a few casual get togethers after that. Game night. A girls’ brunch. Nothing serious, just short little moments.

--

And then.

New Year’s Eve.

--

Hanna had to throw a party. Obviously.

She and Caleb have roof access at their new place and they’ll be able to see the fireworks and everything.

She goes, maybe, a little bit overboard with the guest list.

So what if their apartment currently has twenty seven people in it. It’s fine! Totally fine!

She pushes past the throng of people to go get herself another drink, and she runs into Aria and whatever her new-new boyfriend’s name is.

“Hey!” Hanna says over the music. “Need a refill?”

“Please!” Aria says, and grabs Hanna’s hand so they can make it to the kitchen area in one piece.

They make it and Hanna starts rummaging for a can of coke. She knows Aria’s been sipping on rum and cokes all night and hid a few cans so no one else would take them.

“It’s sweet they get along so well,” Aria says.

“Hmm?” Hanna asks as she cracks open the soda. Aria just nods her head and Hanna follows.

She’s nodding at Emily and Spencer who are standing at the other end of the kitchen, standing a literal four inches apart, and Spencer is...fuck, Spencer is pouring them both tequila shots. Tonight’s getting messy.

“Yeah,” Hanna says noncommittally. She pours the coke into a glass, followed by the rum, and hands it to Aria.

“Thanks,” Aria says, and then she’s gone in a poof.

Hanna’s like. Over it. Really. Over her master plan of getting two of her best friends to get married. But she still sneaks a look over at Spencer and Emily anyway. Mostly because she hasn’t seen either drink tequila in years and expects it to be hilarious.

She does not expect to see Emily standing there with a fucking lime wedge in her mouth. She doesn’t expect to see Spencer, with tequila in hand, fucking lick the nape of Emily’s neck, and then sprinkle salt there. She really, really doesn’t expect to see Spencer lick the salt off from Emily’s skin, take the shot and then angle her mouth against Emily’s to gracefully transfer the lime to her own lips, throwing her head back in triumph, leaving Emily’s face a little flushed.

They’re doing motherfucking body shots. In Hanna’s kitchen. In front of literally everyone. And yet literally everyone doesn’t notice.

Hanna almost spills her wine.

Emily is staring at Spencer with dark eyes and Spencer drops the lime wedge from her mouth, haphazardly tossing it in the sink and she says something lowly that Hanna can’t hear but can definitely read lips well enough to know she said, “you taste really good.”

What. the. Fuck.

Spencer runs her tongue over her lips  and it all clicks. It absolutely all clicks. The casualness of it all. The way they’re standing there, doing this, looking utterly unhurried by it all, with this weird tension sitting between them, like they’re playing double dutch with a line they’ve definitely jumped over before.

They fucked.

They definitely, absolutely fucked.

Hanna doesn’t know when. She doesn’t know where. She doesn’t need or really want to know, to be honest. But she would bet good money that Spencer and Emily have slept together.

It’s almost like vindication.

Almost.

She hightails it out of the kitchen, without her wine, and finds Caleb and yanks on his arm, dragging him to a spot where he can see Spencer and Emily but without being like, obvious about it.

“Do you see?” she hisses.

Caleb laughs. “See what?”

Hanna rolls her eyes. “Look at them.”

Caleb finds what she’s talking about. “Oh man, Emily and tequila. Tonight’s gonna be interesting.”

“Not that!” Hanna says, swatting his arm. “Well, kind of that. Spencer just took a body shot off of Emily. In our goddamn kitchen!”

Caleb laughs. “What? No way. How much gin did you give her earlier?”

“Caleb! This is serious! They’ve slept together!”

Caleb looks at her, and then at Spencer and Emily, and then back at Hanna.

“Han…”

She stomps her foot. “A body shot, Caleb. Come on.”

Caleb just shakes his head. “Look, I know what you want it to mean...but come on. It’s New Year’s, and this place is crazy. They’re probably just having fun.”

Hanna rolls her eyes. “Well, yeah. Sex is fun.”

Caleb like. Giggles then. Actually giggles, which is cute. Then he just shakes his head, again, and kisses Hanna’s forehead. “Babe, they’re just being festive. I’m gonna go get another beer.”

Hanna sticks her tongue out at him as he walks away. If he won’t believe her, maybe Aria will.

She finds Aria talking to...whoever she’s dating, and shoos him away. Politely. Kind of.

“Okay, question. Doing a body shot off of someone. Sexy?” Hanna asks.

Aria shrugs. “If it’s done well.”

“Okay. New question. If Spencer just took a body shot off of Emily, are they fucking?”

Aria nearly chokes on her drink. “What?”

“Answer the question, Montgomery.”

Aria cranes her neck to find Spencer and Emily. They’re still like, distressingly close to one another, and their eyes are all dark and Spencer looks like she’s about to undress Emily right there, but Aria just shrugs.

“You know, I don’t really know Spencer well enough to say.”

Hanna’s patience is so far gone it’s not even funny.

“But you know Emily well enough!”

Aria pauses, and looks at them again. “I don’t know, Han. Emily’s probably just drunk. You know how she gets.”

Hanna is going to scream.

Spencer and Emily either have fucked, or are fucking, and no one but her knows. She feels like she’s going to go insane.

--

At 11:55, half of the party is inside, watching the tv, and the other half is upstairs, on the roof, waiting for the fireworks to start, listening to the countdown on an old radio that Caleb dug up.

They’re passing out flutes of champagne, but Hanna just has a whole bottle in her hands that she’s going to uncork right when midnight hits.

She’s mellowed out throughout the evening, thanks to some choice drinks and Caleb’s hands on her waist.

11:57, and Aria slides up next to her. Caleb is behind her, arms around her. Aria is to her left, and Spencer and Emily are to her right.

It’s the perfect way to end one year and begin another. Surrounded by the people she loves most in this world.

11:59, and the countdown starts. She can’t wait to pop this champagne. She can’t wait to kiss Caleb...she can’t wait to kick everyone out of her apartment and get some sleep.

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

Hanna feels Caleb trying to spin her around but she’s focused, okay? She twists the cork off the champagne, and she just shook it so it shoots into the sky, and fireworks are going off and she starts spraying everyone with the champagne.

The roof is a cacophony of cheers and fireworks and squeals and Hanna is blissed out beyond belief. Caleb finally turns her around, smiles down at her, and thumbs her wet hair from her face. She stands on her tiptoes and kisses him, licks the champagne from his lips and hopes this year is as good as the last one.

When she breaks off the kiss and sees everyone’s smiles - when she sees the look on Emily’s face as she stares at Spencer…

Well. Hanna’s pretty sure this year will be even better.

[patatacosmica]

Drarry Fanfics’ Recommendation (masterpost)

I’ve been postponing this for too long! 

And then I were working on it for five days and I though I would die before finishing it! But here it is, finally! *cries*

The organization of this post is a little bit rubbish, but I hope that you enjoy the fanfics if you decide read some :) Also, english isn’t my first language, so I’m very sorry if there’s some grammar mistake or misspelling :___

Enjoy! <3

CANON COMPLIANT

Perfección, by OneMinuteBlack

Harry Potter tenía una vida perfecta: tenía una esposa a la que amaba, tres maravillosos hijos, una familia cálida y numerosa. Era el Jefe del departamento de Seguridad Mágica  más joven de la historia y la prensa por fin había dejado de atosigarle. Todo era perfecto. Todo, hasta que su hijo Albus decidió invitar a su mejor amigo a su fiesta de cumpleaños. Entonces descubrió que la vida no era tan perfecta.

31 chapters

Spanish

Explicit

Are you mine?, by gracerene

A trilogy of fics set in an Epilogue-Compliant Harry Potter 'Verse, with various accompanying time-stamps and one-shots. Fics are in chronological order.

Three fanfics + one-shots (91.008 words)

English

Explicit

MY FAV CANON COMPLIANT FIC!! Also, one of the three fanfics it’s a Jeddy fanfic <33

Dating Potters, by GoldenTruth813

Scorpius and Albus have been together for awhile now and decide it's time to have a family dinner and come out to their fathers. What they're not counting on is the fact that they're not the only ones with secrets to share. A story in which innuendos are made, hoodies are worn, secrets are revealed, and Albus hides under the table, though not necessarily in that order.

7.733 words

English

Mature

PERFECTION! I mean, this has Drarry and Jeddy and Scorbus and it’s absolutely perfect. Plus, it’s illustrated! I love this one :__

Freedom to be, by Quicksilvermaid

Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived.

12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends.

Only nothing feels perfect.

Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

19 chapters (169.540 words)

English

Explicit

OMG THIS FANFIC!! Mix Drarry + BDSM + poweful!Harry and you’ll have my heart forever and always <3

Fate has different plans, by MarchnoGirl

Harry drew in a breath.

The man must have felt him, because he spun his head towards him, leaving Harry completely speechless. He was wearing a white mask, covered in plumages and diamonds around the eye holes. The diamonds were almost too shiny in the darkness of the room and made the man’s eyes pop out more evidently: they looked like liquid silver. Or, where some casual anal fingering changes Harry’s destiny.

3 chapters (24.336 words)

English

Explicit

Why have this boys to insist in being so angsty? I don't wanna suffer (well, maybe I do)

Play dates, by bixgirl1

Harry never thought seeing Malfoy as a dad would affect him this way.

7.722 words

English

Explicit

Draco and Harry being dads is so sweet :___ Also, good old praise kink *wink*

Predictable little curses, by brightowl

Two single fathers. One rather inconvenient bonding spell.

14.481 words

English

Explicit

In this post you’re going to discover that I’m a sucker for bonding fanfic

 What you left, by MalenkayaCherepakha

Dear Mr. Malfoy, the letter began.

May I begin by extending my deepest condolences on the death of Mr. Potter. It is a great loss for all of wizardkind, and an even greater one for those who knew him personally.

I am writing to you today to inform you that Mr. Potter left you a bequest in his will; the key to Vault 467 at Gringotts. I do not know what the vault contains.

The key is currently in my possession, but if you would like to retrieve it, please do visit my offices at your earliest convenience.

My deepest sympathies once again,

Yours sincerely,

Mr. Alexander Stewart

Draco didn’t understand. Why would Harry leave him the key to his vault?

3983 words

English

Mature

Don’t read this fucking fanfic. It’s going to break your heart. This is the most angsty thing I’ve ever read, I swear.

HOGWARTS EIGHTH YEAR

Tug-o-want, by dysonrules

Harry is back at Hogwarts minding his own business when he finds himself magically drawn to Draco Malfoy. Over and over again.

16.664 words

English

Mature

Not exactly a bond fic, but... more or less.

Dreaming of Harry, by Writcraft

The first night Draco Malfoy dreams of Harry Potter, everything changes.

11.377 words

English

Explicit

Draco is so soft, I need to hug him :___

Hey, Potter, by SunseticMonster

Harry returns to Hogwarts for his 8th year, determined not to let Malfoy get to him. But when the snarky teasing starts up again, Harry finds that returning the jibes with compliments has a far more interesting outcome.

16.024 words

English

Mature

This is so funny, they’re so idiots... But the thing with the ghosts :(((

Candy, by bixgirl1

It was only after careful consideration that Draco came to the wildly preposterous conclusion that he and Potter were actually friends.

Sweet fic. May cause cavities.

5.858 words

English

Mature

THIS IS SO FLUFFY ASLKJALKSJD I love oblivious Draco :’)

It’s joggers season (or so the muggles say), by carpemermaid

Everything about Draco’s life since May has been one bloody long exercise in subverting everything he’s known, that’s expected of him, in an effort to get as far away from the mistakes he’s made—the wrong choices he was forced into. He’s returned to Hogwarts to take his N.E.W.T.s and everything is different—namely, Harry Potter strutting around in clingy joggers that Draco can’t get off his mind.

10160 words

English

Explicit

Kiss, by heyitsamorette

Harry and Draco are forced to kiss over and over again, because that’s just what happens to two arch-enemies around Christmas.

6 chapters (15.344 words)

English

Explicit

This is very cute :__

You cannot save people, you can only love them, by heyitsamorette

Upon returning for Eighth Year, there are so many strange things going on with Malfoy, Harry doesn’t know where to start. He won’t talk to Harry, but he’s talking to ghosts. He won’t apologize for his past, but the Black Family tapestry has crossed him off its tree. And the worst of it all, he still has that infuriating, snotty mouth on him that gets Harry’s dick hard as a rock drives Harry insane.

9 chapters (51.732 words)

English

Explicit

Let it burn in hell, by ImmortalAcorn

Pansy is a cow. It’s unbearable. This whole year will be horrible, I can already tell.

or

Draco hates the stupid diary and he will not be caught dead writing in it.

Not complete! 126/151 chapters (33.593 words)

English

Mature

I love this one ‘cause it’s written like a diary and I think that isn’t common (?)

before & after, by endoftheline7

Loving Harry James Potter was this: soft, extended longing, stretching out forever in his heart, only faltered by the knowledge that having Harry Potter's love would be entirely different. It would be bright and coarse and real. It would be that brash Gryffindor nerve translated into feeling, and Harry's hands would be rough when they cupped Draco's face and his lips would be bitten raw and chapped with cold and perfect, perfect, perfect.

It would be. If he had it.

2 chapters (23.942 words)

English

Mature

MY POOR HEART! MY POOR BABY DRACO!! The first chapter hurts so, so much... But the second *^*

Dragon’s Hide, by featherflairs

“Finally got me on my knees, eh Potter?” Draco smirked up at him, scandalously close to flirting as he placed Potter’s foot on the scale.

“Could you please carry on?” Harry coughed, awkward when faced with his brashness.

Draco gave a dry smile, writing down his measurements and reaching for Potter's other foot.

“You should consider yourself lucky. I’m usually quite picky with who I service.”

14 chapters (61.156 words)

English

Explicit

Draco’s working as a Quidditch boots’ maker and living in Hogsmeade. Harry is in Hogwarts for the 8th Year. And then the drarry happens :D

The Nightmare Club, by Elle Gray

Hermione and Ron are going back to Hogwarts to do N.E.W.T.s, Ginny isn't. Harry hasn't decided, until he has, in front of the Wizengamot and now he's responsible for Malfoy as well. A tale of enemies who learn to get along, get it wrong and get it on. Everything is purple, some things are on fire and no-one is sleeping properly. But don't worry, there's tea! 

16 chapters (85.073 words)

English

Explicit

Harmonised Consciousness, by Talizora

"Potter's spell is still active, but I can shield my thoughts from him. I've been stirring him up all afternoon! It's hysterical!"

Blaise gasped, "It's still active! But it's… Dinner time!"

"Yes, so?"

"S-so? That spell is supposed to cancel itself after an hour! It's been, almost four hours!"

Draco shrugged, "I'm not worried. It's probably due to Potters magic. I'm sure it'll time-out eventually."

Blaise frowned, "Draco I don't think this is a good idea. Maybe you should end the spell?"

"No way! Blaise! I can hear everything! Before, in Runes, Potter was ranting about how he wanted to kill Weasel and Trelawney! He's all over the place! I had no idea he had such homicidal tendencies!" Draco giggled.

One of Blaise's eyebrows rose, "…Draco? Did you just giggle?"

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

3 chapters (24.318 words)

English

Explicit

BOOOOOONDIIIIIING *^*

Something I don’t want to stop, by  lq_traintracks

It's Harry and Draco's eighth year, the Houses have been all but demolished in favor of unity, and they're being forced to room together. How ever will they cope?

16.228 words

English

Explicit

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES

Love comes tumbling, by taradiane

'Harry's thoughts were of how much he would have done differently with Malfoy over the years, and of Dumbledore's final words to the other boy . . . "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now." Maybe, Harry wondered, he could find some mercy, too, and give Malfoy the second chance that Dumbledore had believed him worthy of.'

22.221 words

English

Explicit

(Un)Calculated Risk, by loveglowsinthedark

He thought about the way Harry looked at him, smiled at him; about the way Draco’s head was nearly always full of him, all day every day, and about the way Draco sometimes deliberately went to bed still smelling of him, refusing to acknowledge what it meant – because he already fucking knew what it meant. What all of it meant.

And then Draco decided, fuck it, he was going to risk it. They were going to risk it together, Harry and Draco.

6.917 words

English

Explicit

So sooooft :___ And so smutty *smirks*

Slip into my lover’s hands, by lq_traintracks

Draco licks his lips. He shuts his eyes, because he doesn't think he can look at Potter when he says it. When he asks for it. "One finger?"

5.933 words

English

Explicit

Good old smut~ I found this fic thanks to this fantastic fanart <3

 In evidence of Magical Theory, by bixgirl1

When a hex meant for Draco accidentally catches Harry as well, they're forced to learn to understand each other in ways they previously might have thought impossible.

In which Harry and Draco can't fight, so they fall in love instead.

7 chapters (43.747 words)

English

Explicit

ACCIDENTAL BONDING LAKSAJLJKDLSJD

The ties that bind us, by Faith Wood

An accident leaves Draco and Harry bound tightly together. Literally.

27.890 words

English

Explicit

It’s not exactly a bond fic, but it’s very funny!

The standard you walk past, by bafflingaze

On returning to Hogwarts for their Eighth Year, Headmistress McGonagall decided to room Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter together. She may have hoped for a leading example of house unity; the other students fully expected insults and fights. But nothing happened.

That was, until Harry sleepwalked into Draco’s bed.

14 chapters (46.202 words)

English

Mature

THE CUTENESS!!! OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES

Right hand red, by  lq_traintracks

Harry felt Malfoy's breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory.

Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy.

Malfoy felt inevitable.

3 chapters (73.173 words)

English

Explicit

The bois playing muggle games and being awkardly in love

Rarely pure and never simple, by motleygrrrl

"Is stalking me some sort of compulsive need of yours or something?"

Harry Potter won't stop following Draco around—no matter where he goes, Potter is there, watching. And Draco knows what that means—Potter is clearly planning his death, despite what Blaise and Pansy think. Because if it's not murder he's after, what else could it possibly be? And how could Draco find a way to use that information to his advantage?

Not complete! 4/? chapters (35.006 words)

English

Explicit

HOW CAN BE THIS SO CUTE?!?!? Draco’s so cute falling in love for Harry and Harry is so in love already :______

Through the looking glass and what Draco found there, by magpie_fngrl

Draco discovers the Mirror of Erised is a portal and he enters an alternate reality where your deepest desires come true. Or how Draco found himself in the world of his dreams and Potter had to come and ruin it.

2 chapters (17.440 words)

English

Explicit

This is cute and sad and cute ;___; I feel so sorry for my baby Draco :((

Lumos, by birdsofshore

Harry never expected to spend eighth year listening to Draco Malfoy wanking.

41.746 words

English

Explicit

I promise you, it’s cuter than it seems, hahahah

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES (again) (this trope is everything)

The romantic prawn who loved Christmas, by bixgirl1

When Draco, forced into sharing a room with Potter for the year, finds out that Potter has a sleepwalking problem, he expects the odd conversations and the weird games of chess.

What comes as a complete shock are Potter's other activities...And why he seems so intent on having Draco join him.

2 chapters (39.404 words)

English

Explicit

More roommates ^^ This is so funny and smutty :___

Beautiful meanings in beautiful things, by dwacos

After a cocky comment from Malfoy and a (totally, 100% justified) punch in the face from Harry, Malfoy ends up with a bruise on his cheek that just doesn't seem to want to go away, no matter what is attempted. Harry's confused by his Amortentia smells, Malfoy keeps asking him to punch him (literally,) and everybody seems to think that they can just tell Harry that he isn't straight anymore. On top of all of that, Harry now has to figure out what the fuck to do when you find out that you've got a soulmate. A fucking soulmate.

2 chapters (76.944 words)

English

Explicit

Wow, another soulmates/bonding fanfic, what a surprise *insert pikachu’s meme here*

Then comes a mist and a weeping rain, by Faith Wood

It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.

21.139 words

English

Explicit

THIS IS SO FUNNY!! Draco is a grumpy kitten <3

In need of a proper hug, by Faith Wood

Draco rescues a poor, poor koala, which won't stop hugging him. Inspired by this pic of DanRad hugging Jack Huston aka Jack Kerouac in Kill Your Darlings, and this comment: "I've decided that he is part koala, and I think you should write a story where Harry becomes an Animagus, turns into a koala, and clings constantly to Draco." Beware of cute. Bring a toothbrush.

2.086 words

English

Mature

THE FLUFF!! KOALAS!!!! MY HEART!!!!!!!!

An issue of consequence, by Faith Wood

Draco has woken up in an alternate universe. Or he has woken up utterly insane. Nothing else can possibly explain why Harry Potter suddenly seems to think he's Draco's boyfriend.

5 chapters (20.798 words)

English

Explicit

This one hurted so much :( But there’s a happy ending, I promise <3

Written on the heart, by who_la_hoop

Harry doesn’t mind that so many Slytherins from his year have returned to finish their NEWTs, really he doesn’t. It’s just – do they have to be so friendly? He’s not prejudiced, really he’s not. It’s just – they’ve got to be up to something, right? Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him.

When he’s hit by an illegal love-spell though, Harry finds he has more to worry about than whether or not Blaise Zabini actually wants to be his friend. For if everyone affected has been blessed – or cursed, by the look on Malfoy’s face – with a magical tattoo revealing the name of their soulmate, what does it mean that Harry’s skin remains completely bare?

20 chapters (113.984 words)

English

Explicit

AND THEY WERE S O U L M A T E S

Say my name, by Thunderbird587

Harry witnesses something unexpected in the 8th year boys' showers and starts to see Draco Malfoy in a whole new light. The question is now, what is he going to do about it?

A coming of age Drarry tale about letting go of the past and building the future.

21 chapters (199.135 words)

English

Explicit

I have a special affection for this fanfic, because it made me realize the bad things about the relationship of Harry and Ginny and that’s always a good thing (?)

Things worth knowing, by Femme (femmequixotic)

After the Battle, Harry thinks he's left Hogwarts for good, but Minerva insists that all students return for an Eighth Year if they wish to sit for NEWTs in the spring, and Harry needs those NEWTs to go into the Aurors. Draco's just grateful not to be in Azkaban. Or the Manor. He's hoping he can steer clear of Potter this year and grapple with his own problems. Unfortunately for him, Potter appears to be one of those problems. And that's not even addressing the fact that Potter's got serious issues of his own, which Draco realises as he's forced to share an Eighth Year dormitory room and several classes with the Gryffindor Git. If only they can make it through the year without killing each other, it should be all right, shouldn't it?

10 chapters (164.523 words)

English

Explicit

I think this is my favourite Hogwarts Eighth Year fanfic. All the thing with the hate towards the Slytherin House and DRACO DRESSED UP AS HYPNOS OMG WHAT A BLESSING <33 Also, Ravi is the best and the talk :___

Alliges Duplicia: Bound, by Anonymus

Harry and Draco both go back to Hogwarts for the 8th year. Harry goes because he skipped his 7th year, and Draco goes because he failed his.

The get stuck working together on a Potion’s project because they both skipped the same class in which pairs were chosen. Due to the clumsiness of another student, their brilliant work turns into a disaster when, somehow, their magical energies get bonded together, which forces them to stay in close proximity to each other.

This isn’t a permanent situation, but it will take quite a bit of time for the proper officials to figure out how to unbind them, seeing as this type of instance is extremely rare. Somewhere along the way, Draco bonds with Harry in a different way. Enemies become friends, and friends become something more.

Not complete! 23/? chapters (76.089 words)

English

Explicit

Do you remember that I’ve lost a fanfic and was looking for it? WELL, I FOUND IT AND IS THIS! :D

Strangers, by LucyLightwood

The first time he sees Malfoy up there, he points his wand at him. And even though he knows he should leave, he decides to stay and sit as far away as possible while they both look over at the same set of stars. They shouldn't be sharing the same room or breathing the same air, but after a month of silent company, it's not Harry who crosses the line first.

Not complete! 24/? chapters (146.845 words)

English

Mature

I think this was one of the first Drarry fics I’ve read :__ They’re so soft, help ;__;

Harry Potter y las Cicatrices Invisibles, by OTPshipper98

Tras la Batalla de Hogwarts, todo el mundo ha perdido algo. Algunos han perdido a familiares y amigos. Otros han perdido la inocencia. Pero Harry Potter ha perdido la sonrisa; se ha perdido a sí mismo. Y la única persona que se siente como él es, para su sorpresa, Draco Malfoy.

61 chapters (253.651 words)

Spanish

Explicit

Okay, this fanfic competes with Things worth knowing for the first position of my favourites Eighth Year fanfics :___ 

The wolf pack, by dracogotgame

Nobody said achieving your animagus form was easy. Draco could handle being a wolf pup for a while, right? How bad could it be?

13.672 words

English

Teen and up audiences

The fluffiest thing in this galaxy <3

Friday night gossip, by jamesilver

“You two are my best friends, you know that. It’s just...” Hermione paused. “There are just things I can’t talk about you two with. It’d be too...weird. For all of us. It’s just a thing girls like to do, you know. We want to talk about our boyfriends, the guys we like—the cute things they do, the stupid things they do, all their quirks that we really like, our feelings about them."

After her friends were gone, Pansy Parkinson got her attention. "We couldn’t help overhearing.”

Draco leaned forward. “If you want to talk about crushes and feelings and your boyfriend, you can join our Friday night mani-pedi group.”

“Okay,” Hermione said.

“Good.” Pansy pointed at her. “Bring what colors you want for your nails. I’ll provide accent colors and decorating tools. Also, bring towels and whatever hair products you use. I bring drinks, Draco brings chocolate, fine something to add to that. Be at Draco’s room at nine on Friday.”

_____

Or, in which Hermione just wants to talk about boys and ends up becoming a small sort of matchmaker

(above is a heavily-edited excerpt)

6.424 words

English

Mature

I love the idea of Draco and Pansy being big drama queens and befriending Hermione <33

Tie me up in knots, by lauren3210

“Harry, are you wearing a Slytherin tie?”

2.065 words

English

Mature

KASHJJKDAJSDKLAJSDLAKJD (that’s the most coherent thing I can say about this fic)

Unexpected consequences, by lauren3210

Harry was going back to school. He was going to play Quidditch, sleep in lessons, hang out with his friends, and generally just enjoy being a kid for a change. And he was also going to do it while being bonded with Malfoy, because apparently life was just going to continue throwing curveballs at him. Harry didn't know why he expected anything different.

7 chapters (39.192 words)

English

Explicit

OMG THIS FANFIC!! B O N D I N G <333

AUROR POTTER

Dueling, by heyitsamorette

Draco is an Auror trainee. They have dueling practice every week. All dueling really amounts to is a game of domination and submission.

Written for wand_in_a_knot for pasdexcuses' delicious prompt, "domination is the name of the game."

3.211 words

English

Explicit

Have yourself a kinky little Christmas, by keyflight790 & tsundanire

As the holidays loom, Harry feels the weight of everything and everyone he'd lost. Working as an Auror, while exciting hadn't filled him with the same kind of satisfaction he'd assumed it would. It takes one extremely kinky secret admirer to pull out a side of him he'd been pushing away since his youth, and actually make him want to come into work everyday.

12 chapters (21.433 words)

English

Explicit

The man in the scarlet cloak, by bixgirl1

There's usually a better time and place to participate in seduction than the Forbidden Forest. Unless, of course, it's Mating Season.

In which Draco is sneaky but not sneaky enough, Harry is confident but goes a bit mad, and the Trees are either incredibly romantic or just sort of perverts.

16.350 words

English

Explicit

This fanfic is fantastic! I loved the trees’ thing <3

Work it out, by GoldenTruth813

The Auror Trainees now have required gym time, and Draco is distracted by Potter’s equipment. His workout equipment, that is.

4.454 words

English

Explicit

Hourglass heart, by bixgirl1

It only happened once — depending on how Harry counted.

5.252 words

English

Explicit

WHY ARE THEY SO IDIOTS?!?!?!

Draco Malfoy’s Stupendous Seduction Seminar, by Anonymus

Draco Malfoy offers to help his coworkers to improve their seduction techniques, with unexpected consequences.

8.700 words

English

Explicit

This one is so funny :__ Also, it contains the best kink ever aka praise kink (uwu)

Cauldron full of hot, strong love, by aibidil

In which a group of wizards' rights activists goes on the offensive after a prohibition against love potions, forcing the magical world to confront the horror of magic's role in sexual assault and the murky legal nature of consent. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Draco are swept together to solve the case, and in the process they're made to confront their own love and lust—with and without potions.

4 chapters (80.466 words)

English

Explicit

THIS IS A FUCKING MASTERPIECE!!!! You can’t imagine how much I loved this fanfic :___

Fake it til you make it, by mssldiaz

Draco hates soul marks. He hates all marks in general. Especially one that ties him to the Boy Wonder. Draco just wanted to finish his probation in peace and slowly remove himself from the public eye. Being soul matched with Harry Potter is definitely not the way to avoid attention.

Especially when he won't shut up about it.

A sort of Modern AU.

4 chapters (24.274 words)

English

Mature

I don’t believe in soulmates irl, but in fanfiction... oh boi 

Little Prince, Kneel, by Selly87

Almost immediately after the war, Harry Potter took his godson and Andromeda and left England behind. He returned five, nearly six, years later; changed, healed, and a very different man altogether. Now an extremely handsome bachelor in his late twenties, and with a promising career at the Ministry, he suddenly finds his life turned upside down after unexpectedly bumping into his former school nemesis, Draco Malfoy, Prosecutor Extraordinaire.

Is Harry going to be able to stay away from Draco? Does he even want to? And exactly how will Draco react once he discovers how the Saviour prefers to spend his free time?

Not complete! 40/70 chapters (209.400 words)

English

Explicit

I’M ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE WITH THIS FANFIC, IT GIVES ME LIFE, CURES MY DEPRESSION, CLEARS MY SKIN!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAA *dies*

This year’s love, by trishjames

This year’s love had better last, heaven knows it’s high time when you try to make lovers from friends. But Harry Potter realises time and time again that it’s simply not possible for him. And then along comes Draco Malfoy— the ultimate foe on the mend. Whatever will become of them? A story about love.

6 chapters (84.000 words)

English

Explicit

Dean is such a shit in this fanfic :((( Also, Harry and Draco being idiots *eyeroll*

Antlers and Ivy, by violetclarity

The thing is, Draco has always known he wouldn’t be able to marry his soulmate. Finding out his soulmate is Harry Potter shouldn’t change anything.

Or: soulmarks, a masquerade ball, and gratuitous use of The Daily Prophet as a plot device.

6 chapters (19.124 words)

English

Explicit

Write the way out, by carmemermaid

When Draco finally gets his first real assignment as a reporter for the Daily Prophet, he didn’t imagine that he would be given the Potter beat. Resigning himself to writing boring pieces about dull charity functions and various Auror missions, Draco is more than surprised when he follows Potter into Muggle London and discovers Potter’s secret.

14.578 words

English

Explicit

The Full Monty, by magpie_fngrl

Harry poses for a naked Auror calendar and Draco goes batshit crazy with lust.

9.860 words

English

Explicit

PROFESSORS

Of roses and dragonfire, by xErised

Years after That Kiss, Potter (and his new pet snake) appears again, this time as Hogwarts's Quidditch and Muggle Games instructor (what are Muggle Games anyway? Is this why Potter is swimming in the Great Lake wearing such a tiny pair of pants?), disrupting Draco's peaceful life as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. It's bad enough dealing with one exuberant Gryffindor (Charlie Weasley as Care of Magical Creatures professor) on the faculty, and what's all the gossip about Potter courting Draco?

3 chapters (53.123 words)

English

Explicit

Asakdjslkdjas this is so cute and funny :__ And the Parseltongue kink, help xdd

Nosy niffler, by dracoismytrashson

Harry can't stop watching him. It's starting to feel a bit like sixth year, except this time he's a grown man with classes to teach and no time to obsess about his favorite subject: Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately, Harry's pet Niffler keeps stealing things from Draco and only Draco, making it entirely impossible for Harry to avoid confronting that stupid smirking face he most assuredly doesn't want to kiss.

6.582 words

English

Explicit

A secondary education, by Thunderbird587

Fleeing the aftermath of his recent divorce, Draco Malfoy takes up a post as the new Potions Master at Hogwarts. At first he believes his hopes for a fresh start are dashed when he sees that a certain boyhood rival is on staff there as well. But Harry Potter is being weirdly nice to him, leaving Draco no choice but to play along. As Draco reckons with his ex-wife's infidelity and questions about his own sexuality, he finds himself going to an openly gay Potter for guidance. As their friendship deepens, Draco realizes that there is quite a lot that Potter can teach him. And that he is surprisingly ready to learn.

21 chapters (234.528 words)

English

Explicit

Not to be dramatic, but I would die for this fanfic

IN THE MUGGLE WORLD

Yours to keep, by dracoismytrashson

Some people think concepts like fate and destiny are romantic, but for Harry Potter, fate has always meant one thing: a swift kick in the arse. Why else would he cross an ocean to New York and enroll in Muggle university only to find Draco Malfoy living two doors down the hall? The universe and its twisted sense of humor can fuck right off.

A story in which two broken boys try to repair themselves halfway across the world. Too bad trauma doesn't care how far you run.

22 chapters (135.830 words)

English

Explicit

OMG I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS FANFIC! I think it’s my fav fic and without a doubt this Draco is THE BEST DRACO IN THE UNIVERSE <3333 Plus, the mental health is treated so well in this story, it’s a blessing. Seriously, this fanfic is everything ;___;

The lost bet, by Selly87

It is 2019 and Harry Potter, Ex-Auror turned full-time dad and writer of magical children's books, finds himself making a startling discovery about none other than his former school rival Draco Malfoy. Just where will this relationship, rekindled over several cups of exquisite coffee, lead those two men?

27 chapters (60.700 words)

English

Explicit

This is so sweet <3 Also, it triggered my need of coffee :__

The Magic Cat, by dot_the_writer

When Harry sees Draco Malfoy with painted nails and wearing an oversized jumper covered in cat fur, his obsession from school comes back in full force. Featuring supportive friends, cute cats and lots of Harry figuring out what he wants.

17.455 words

English

Explicit

CATS CATS CATS *^*

There’s no I in team, by JulietsEmoPhase

When Draco's babysitter cancels on him, he has no option but to bring his son to work, despite the fact he has an extremely important day ahead of him. Rescue comes from the most unlikely of places, and Draco ends up having a day he never could have planned, or hoped for.

Muggle AU, smut. Birthday present!

13.389 words

English

Explicit

Oh, the cuteness :___

Listen, the snow is falling, by dracoismytrashson

It's the coldest day of the year, and a blizzard is threatening to bury the city at any moment. All Draco Malfoy wants to do is get through his shift at the homeless shelter so he can go home to a warm cat and a comfy bed. Too bad the universe has other plans.

12.450 words

English

Explicit

I have a soft point for Draco trying to redeem himself and so does Harry <3

Highly (in)compatible, by gracie137

Draco’s been shagging The Prat Who Lived on and off for a few months when his soul mark starts to change. Draco’s had to accept a lot of adjustments to his life, but accepting that Harry Potter could be his soulmate is one step too far. It can’t be true? Can it?

37.300 words

English

Explicit

Me and the soulmates au, the soulmates au and me (a love story)

Anyone but him, by  RuArcher (Coriesocks)

Harry thought going to a Muggle university would be the perfect opportunity for a new start. He hadn’t counted on having Draco Malfoy as a flatmate.

19.323 words

English

Explicit

I laughed so much with this one, it’s so relatable xddd

CREATURES

In the red, by bixgirl1

When Harry goes looking for a vampire at a Creature club, the second-to-last thing Harry expects is to find Malfoy working there.

The last thing he expects is to fall in love with him.

5 chapters (45.629 words)

English

Explicit

This hurt a little bit :__

A Choice of Wings, by Lomonaaeren

A Choice of Wings is Harry's matchmaking business for Veela who have trouble finding mates. And Draco Malfoy is his most difficult client.

18.738 words

English

Mature

Harry Potter and the Maudlin Merman, by FleetofShippyShips

Not a proper series, more like, I might dabble in this AU and when I do I'll just post things as oneshots.

At some point after the war, Draco Malfoy was cursed and dumped in the lake at Hogwarts. 

2 one-shots (8.946 words)

English

Teen and Up Audiences & Mature

Merman!Draco is pure fantasy :___

Today, Forever, by Palendrome

As if his recent divorce and sleepless nights weren’t bad enough, a rash of escalating crimes against purebloods forces Harry and his team of Aurors to protect the riskiest target in all of Wizarding Britain.

Of course, Draco Malfoy would still be ridiculously infuriating and impossibly gorgeous.

As well as a Veela.

Who happens to be Harry’s mate.

6 chapters (60.960 words)

English

Explicit

I loved this one <33

RANDOM JOBS

Phoenix Repairs Services, by carpemermaid

Phoenix Repair Services — We’ll bring it back to life as if it was new! Draco hires a suspiciously private wizarding handyman to fix his kitchen when he returns home to find it destroyed. He expects a middle-aged wizard with greying hair and a pudgy gut to show up. Instead, he gets Harry Potter—with a utility belt and a charming smile—who is more attractive than he has any right to be. 

20.550 words

English

Explicit

What’s my age again?, by lazywonderland

Harry Potter has had enough of pleasing the public, and his reckless tendencies are finally getting out of hand.

The Quidditch World Cup is only a week away; as Captain of the English National Team, Hermione has assured him that his immaturity won’t be tolerated by the Ministry.

And then Malfoy shows up.

(Inspired by the blink-182 song of the same name.)

12.249 words

English

Explicit

Harry being a rebel and doing with his life whatever he wants is my kink

Notes on a resurrection, by newleaves

The plan was never to raise Sirius Black from the dead. Draco’s intentions were only ever to free him from the veil, most likely so that he could move on. It’s Harry’s actions as he entered the forest, ten years ago, which have afforded Black the prospect of life and are causing these accidents along the way…

A story about hope, courage and the act of changing state.

Not complete! 10/13 chapters (88.248 words)

English

Mature

I’M SO GLAD I FOUND THIS FIC *^* IT HAS A LOT OF WONDERFUL THINGS: UNSPEAKABLE!DRACO, WOLFSTAR, HARRY AND DRACO BEING IDIOTS IN LOVE...

Touch, by bixgirl1

When Harry is referred to a professional cuddler for the soothing power of touch, he’s dubious — even more so when the Cuddler who shows up turns out to be Malfoy. But in the years since the war, Malfoy’s changed, and over the next several days Harry is confronted by how much he still doesn’t know about this new version of his old enemy — and by how much he wants to learn.

5 chapters (44.791 words)

English

Explicit

Let’s take a chance on happiness, by endless_grey

Harry works with Luna at her magical antique shop, and everything is going pretty well until a mysterious ring makes an appearance. Cue curse-breaker Draco Malfoy and an accidental bond, and suddenly Harry is magically married to his former nemesis. They need to break the bond before Hermione's fundraiser, but Harry doesn't remember "fall in love with the git" being part of the plan.

21.178 words

English

Explicit

Boooonding tiiiiiime <3

A man like him, by darkestbliss

Draco Malfoy has made a name for himself after the War as 'the wizarding world's best interior architectural designer' (his words), taking old, decrepit spaces and transforming them into exquisite homes for those who can afford the hefty price tag. His most recent assignment is number twelve, Grimmauld Place, which has only deteriorated more in condition since the elusive Harry Potter inherited it after Sirius Black's death. When he stumbles upon a collection of questionable items in one of Potter's wardrobes, he finds himself appalled, shocked, distraught, and just a little bit turned on.

23 chapters (60.132 words)

English

Explicit

I’m in love with Dom!Harry, sorry :___

FANFICS I DON’T KNOW HOW THE HELL CLASSIFY

Draco Sodding Malfoy, by  Shewhxmustnxtbenamed

Harry finds Draco outside a pub and takes him back to his place, only to find out that Draco is in an abusive relationship. Harry invites Draco to stay until he can get back on his feet. They go to Draco's ex-boyfriends house, and come back with more than they bargained for.

73 chapters (250.248 words)

English

Explicit

Oh, godness, this fanfic. It was one of the first Drarry fanfics I’ve read and I’m completely in love with it.

He kneels, by Selly87

“What do you want, my gorgeous little prince?” Harry asked softly and Draco stared up at him, eyes wide, lips trembling slightly beneath Harry’s gentle caress.

8.841 words

English

Explicit

This one inspired Little Prince, Kneel and :___

The Day The Weasel Crashed The Party (And Got More Than He Bargained For), by Selly87

It's a perfect evening, the restaurant is exquisite, the champagne is cool and bubbly and Harry is in the company of the only man he wants to spend tonight with...until his best friend, Ronald Weasley, makes a surprise appearance. Things can only go pear-shaped from here on, or can they?

3.348 words

English

Mature

I would kill Ron, I swear... agh :/

[speedprofessor]

The End Is Only The Beginning

Part One: Apotheosis

     He is angry, body quaking in unadulterated ANGER as he looks down upon him, eyes burning red with hate and contempt. He was a FOOL to think Barry Allen, the Prideful, the Vain, the Petty Barry Allen would be GRACIOUS enough to ALLOW him to return home. Worse, he thought The Flash would be selfless enough to set-back a timeline THEY had damaged. He had offered ABSOLUTION, for all the pain and suffering he had caused. Why would he deny everyone that?! 

     Why couldn’t he just LET HIM BE?!

     He tears the mask off his face with a swift strike, his left arm shooting backward with an open palm. If he was to be doomed, he would take Barry with him. ‘‘ Just so we’re clear, after I kill YOU, I’m going to kill THEM, and then I’m going to kill your FATHER, I always WIN, Flash--’’ One strike, and it’ll be over. 

     As long as I kill Barry I’ll be alri--

     His entire being shakes as the gunshot reverberates across the Accelerator, hand falling to the wayside as he takes several steps backward in shock. No, no, no, no, he DIDN’T-- he COULDN’T--

     He feels his very atoms convulse and twist as eyes fall on the red spot on Eddie’s chest, the fool-- the stupid-- BRAVE-- fool---. ‘‘ Cisco, help me--’’ He does not know why he calls out. He is not who he is supposed to be, not YET, his destiny is still IN HIS FUTURE. How could he save him when he had only learned of his powers several hours prior? Why would he even want to?

     A weary hand reaches for his cowl, tearing back with a strain as he falls to his knees, a tingling feeling washing over him as he feels his body revert. Being erased from existence means he never gets to be Harrison Wells, it means he never gets to be desperate enough to hijack someone else’s body, it means he never gets stuck.

     It means he never meets Rose.

     Never will the proud, yet awkward, Professor be asked for an interview by a intrepid reporter. Never will the Professor work up the courage to ask her out for dinner. Never will he fall in love, never will he experience the joy of calling her his wife, never will he suffer the loss of a dream gone by. 

     Never will Eobard Thawne come to be.

     A blank expression falls upon his features as he helplessly watches the Future Missus West-Allen weep over his ancestor’s body. Lucky, he thinks, he at least has someone to mourn him. Oh, Rose, he muses bitterly, finally, fifteen years wasted... I’m so sorry.... His head slowly turns to Barry, his once-idol, his hero, his nemesis. Guess he had won after all. And yet, strangely, he cannot look upon him with hate. Not-- not anymore. Strange, to feel a sense of fatherly pride towards someone whom you have hated for so long. Life was tricky, indeed.

     ‘‘ I’ve controlled your life for so long Barry,--’’ Lips curl into a bitter smile as he fights back the pain, the cracks of the honest man he once was shining through for the first time-- for the last time--, ‘‘ How will you get along without me? ’’ As far as he thought his last words to be, this was one he did not expect. 

     And with that--- Nothing. A final breath, a final scream, body crumbling away like ash, like dust, like the sands of time reclaiming what once was. 

     Perhaps, now, he could know peace.

Part Two: Apotheosis, Redux. 

     He is tired, the strain of dealing with Zolomon’s duplicates getting to him. He was expending too much power, too much SPEED, with so many aberrations running around, it was only a matter of time before IT arrived. Funny, he couldn’t help but think, he was risking the wrath of Zolomon to stop Zolomon. Time travel was so weird. 

     This Hunter was young,  bolder, yet all the more cunning. Wearing HIS face, using HIS name, HIS moniker, all to MASK who he really was. He had to admit, that was smart. Foolish, but smart. 

     Blood drips from his knuckles, fists colliding with one Hunter’s chest cavity and ending with anothers. So many duplicates, so many spares. As long as the original remained, the timeline would stay intact. As long as all of them were focused on him, the Legends could retrieve the Spear. And once they had the Spear, the Black Flash would cease to be a problem.

     As long as I stop Zolomon, I’ll be alright.

     He taps into his speed, the very depths he had forbidden himself to use, running, phasing through one Zoom, two, three, five, ten. So many, too many, too fast. Once he forces himself to stop, the battlefield is barren. Various Legends laying unconscious on the dirt, the last remaining Hunter staring down the Canary. She had the spear! Good, now all she had to do was-

     De-power it. Of course she depowered it. It was the smart thing to do. Of course.

     As long as I stop Zolomon, maybe I’ll be alright.

     A beautiful lie. He rushes behind Hunter, hands grasping his shoulders, a twisted, gleeful grin curling upon his lips, ‘‘ Guess you weren’t fast enough, oops. ’’ A shove, one as fast and mighty as he could muster, just enough to open a breach through which Zolomon could travel. He wonders if this is how he ends up in Earth-3, perhaps this is where he gets the idea to be the hero, after failing so spectacularly as the villain. Perhaps. A question for another time.

     Time he no longer had.

     He knew, from the moment he had escaped the twisted hell of Allen’s creation, the moment he had tasted freedom, it would not last. He, too, was an aberration. A distant, long-forgotten theory proved correct. A time remnant, the body of a younger man with the memories of a life LONG GONE. A loose end. And the Speed Force abhorred loose ends. 

     At least, this time, he would die a hero. Savior of Reality.  How about that, Barry?

     An exhausted exhale, immediately followed by the scream of an awaiting specter. Of course it was waiting. No loose ends. Eyes flash with determination, red sparks coming off of his body as he readies himself for a sprint. If he was to be killed, he would welcome it. 

     A step, a flash, a black claw sinking into his heart as eyes fall upon the face of Death itself. A familiar feeling, as familiar as death could be. 

     Perhaps, now, he could know rest.

Part Three: Nascence

     He finds himself waking, a massless, formless awareness stirring in the heart of a vortex. He has no eyes, yet he can see so much. COLORS, ranging from yellows to blues, purples to reds. Electricity, energy, power, LIFE. 

     SPEED FORCE, in all its might. 

     He should not exist, he should not exist. Not like this, not like any thing. He had ceased to be, and that should have been it. Perhaps, perhaps, his existence, his PAST, was vital. Vital. He would create the Flash, after all, and the Flash-- Flash would fuel the Speed Force. An infinite engine, with no beginning or end, but with a beacon that would tether its energy to a point in time. Clever, sophisticated, ancient. 

     And yet, it was UNSTABLE. Prone to violent outbursts of energy, upset its delicate balance and it would hunger for a sacrifice. Of course-- Of COURSE. Balance, balance. The Flash fueled it, yes, but he only generated ONE kind of power. One kind of charge. The irony of it all hits him before the thought itself forms. It needed a NEGATIVE charge. Negative-- Reverse. 

     Could it work? 

     NO! NO! He had EARNED his rest, he had suffered SO MUCH, suffered SO LONG. He should rest, let his mind be emptied, be a PART of the energy that had given him so much meaning. But-- but, he could see HER again. Go back, no longer be LIMITED by his connection to Barry’s own speed, run fast, faster, go home-- Home! To her! 

     It had to work.

     As long as I go back to Rose, I’ll be alright.

     He extends his mind, further, to the corners of the speed force. Awareness works differently here, how, he could not describe. He calls out, to the husk of Zolomon, to the very essence of Speed Force itself. A bargain. No, an arrangement. No-- An understanding. 

     Every positive needs a negative.

     He reaches out once more, to the very energies that surrounded him, if he could reach the right spot, the right moment, the right frequency, if the Speed Force would allow him, if he could tap into the right source--

     There!

     He imagines a bolt of lightning. Bright. Powerful. Crimson. He imagines his fingers, long and slender, curling around it, grasping it, CLAIMING it. He would no longer be bound by Barry’s speed, no longer be limited, he would generate his OWN. A negative charge of the Speed Force, sparked with each step, taking and giving to and fro. Balance. 

     A spark. He feels the very first atom vibrate. Then another. Then, another. Multiplying, vast, fast, forming into bonds, forming into structures. Cells! A pain shoots through his form, electricity reaching the very edges of his body. He has no mouth, but he wants to scream. Blood vessels, his! The electricity is intensifying, storming all around him, opening a pathway back he would have to claw his way to. He can feel it all, every atom, every cell, creating, forming, shaping. A birth, rebirth!, as painful as any. 

     Perhaps, now, he could save her.

Part Four: Confluence

     He is alone, standing tall in an empty field, a warm night’s wind blowing on his face. He is different now, he can feel it.No longer is he just Eobard Thawne, the memories, the DNA, the body of Harrison Wells still residing within, accessible in a, painful, moment’s notice. No longer does he feel stifled, his speed feels more freeing than ever before.

     As long as I run back to Rose, I’ll be alright.

     He thinks, repeats, joyfully, mouth seemingly affixed to a wide, beaming smile as he prepares himself. It had been so long, so long, he had so much to SAY. So much to SHARE.

     He takes his first step, a new man, reborn. Perhaps, now, he could run FORWARD. Run past his mistakes, his hate. A second chance, a second LIFE! He takes his next step, and the next, and the next. Pacing, jogging, running, dashing. He felt himself moving through the vibrations, through the dimensions, barriers that once held him so tightly now welcoming him with open arms. He could see the timeline, timelines, within the palm of his hand, reachable within a moment’s notice. No, none of the times interested him, none but ONE. His home, his WORLD, as long as he ran back to Rose, he’d be alright--

     A sudden jolt, a sudden STOP. He finds himself back where he started. Undettered, he runs again. Same result. Again-- Again-- --Again-- AGAIN. 

     ‘‘ NO!!! ’’ A blank expression descends upon his features as he helplessly stares off to the distance, tears, silent and swift, fall ever so gently. You’re a fool, Thawne, he thinks, bitterly. He realized it too late. He was too desperate, again, too RASH, AGAIN. If he ran back to HER, if the Speed Force LET him run back to her-- He would run no more. And the Speed Force NEEDED him to run more. 

     Balance. 

     Perhaps, now, he was truly and utterly doomed.

Part Five: Nadir.

     He is broken.

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Apart, In, and Out

Anon Request: Hiiiiii!! How are you doing?? I’ve been a fan of you for a year now (or so), I love your writing and I would love to make a request if possible? Reader has a hate/love relationship with Sebastian Stan and every time she distance herself from Sebastian, she craves him even more. Kind of inspired by Alicia Key’s song Fallin’. Thank yooou ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: thanks so much for the request :) I’m sorry it took a while to get to, so thanks for being patient as well. ----ALSO, I LOST MY PERMANENT TAG LIST SO IF YOU WERE ON IT, OR IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED IN ALL MY WRITINGS, PLEASE MESSAGE ME

Warnings: language

Tags: @bubblyanarocks3 (you were in my recents and I remembered you were on my permanent tags)

There he is again--that cocky little shit, (Y/N) thought as she looked at her television screen. If there was one thing in this world she couldn’t will herself to be tolerate to, it was the sapphire eyed brunette asshole that stared up at her through the screen. She jammed her thumb so hard into the power button on her remote she feared it would never work again, but if it meant she’d never have to see his stupid face again, she was okay with it.

“I was watching that,” her younger brother grumbled and poked his head out from over the couch.

“I don’t care,” she muttered as the twenty year old sprawled across her sofa and groaned.

“I don’t get why you hate the MARVEL movies so much,” he sighed. “We used to read the comics all the time as kids.”

“The movies are fine,” she said under her breath, trying to sound apathetic to the situation.

“Then what’s you’re problem?” he pestered.

“Doesn’t your first class start in an hour?” she turned the conversation around. “I told Mom you’re only allowed to live with me so long as you go to class when you’re supposed to. Does she need to know about the frat party last weekend?”

“No,” he whined, “she’ll make me move back into the dorms.”

“Then get your lazy ass off my couch and go get dressed,” she stated as she began cooking a couple eggs for her brother to eat before leaving. The siblings were born six years apart and ever since the younger entered the world, (Y/N) felt it was her responsibility to make sure he was doing what he was supposed to be doing. Even when he was starting kindergarten and she was in middle school, she didn’t shun him because he was younger. The only thing in her life that she hid from her brother was her first heartbreak, mostly because she thought he would have made fun of her.

When (Y/N) was in college, a movie called The Covenant was being shot on her campus and she naively signed up with a couple of friends to be extras in some of the shots. She didn’t think that anything would happen, maybe they would get a glimpse at one of the actors before being ushered away or having to leave for classes; she certainly didn’t expect for her to fall head over heels for one of the supporting actors. More importantly, she didn’t expect to gain his attention. She was wrong about both of these assumptions. To this day she still gets butterflies every time she thinks about the moment they met. 

(Y/N) was making her way across the commons with a couple of friends. They were late for a class because one they had on the other side of campus was held over. She had seen the guy before in movies and around the set of this movie, but didn’t think too much about it when she saw him running up to her. He had soft, fluffy brown hair and light, enticing eyes that were all too easy to get lost in. “Wait,” he called and started stumbling over names that sounded like hers until she turned and pointed to herself. “Yes,” he said with a smile.

“(Y/N),” she corrected, “and I’m not working as an extra today,” she said hesitantly before pointing toward the humanities building. “I’m late for a class.”

“It’ll only take a second,” he promised once he was a foot away from her. His lips curled into a smile as she looked up at him. “I’m Sebastian,” he started. “When are you free for lunch?”

“I have an hour break between classes after this one,” she admitted questioningly. 

“Would you like to meet up here and come to lunch with me? My treat.” (Y/N) could feel her heart turn into a balloon and float toward her ribcage only to bounce around in her chest cavity.

“Sure,” she smiled and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. After Sebastian said his goodbyes, he ran back to set and she hurried off to catch up with her friends.

(Y/N) hated that she ever agreed to eat lunch with that...that...she sighed as she realized she was out of horrible names to call Sebastian Stan. Of course he wasn’t the first guy to show an interest in her, but throughout high school she only had one boyfriend; in reality, she was just really close with this guy so they tried dating but it wasn’t what either of them thought they wanted so they went back to being friends. She really didn’t even count him as a boyfriend because of how short lived that relationship was. Other than that, the other boys that showed an interest in her were turned down simply because she was too busy to get caught up in a relationship. 

The lunch itself wasn’t that bad. He was kind and funny and seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. He asked about her studies, why she was a part of the movie, and what her future plans were. In all honesty, (Y/N) should have been smarter than to think this would lead to anything more than what it was. They were roughly the same age--maybe he was about six years older--but this movie would be one of the things that lead him to getting more recognition in his line of work and then he was well on his way to becoming a Hollywood icon. 

(Y/N) and her brother hurriedly ate their breakfasts and left the apartment. He headed toward the bus stop while she made her way to the parking garage and dropped into the driver’s seat of her car. She turned the key in the ignition and heard the car roar to life as the beginning of Alicia Keys’s song ‘Fallin’ came through her speakers. 

Sometimes I love ya, sometimes you make me blue. Sometimes I feel good, and sometimes I feel used.

As the lyrics flowed from the radio into (Y/N)’s ears, she couldn’t help thinking back to the first moment she knew Sebastian Stan was an asshole. Whether or not he was drunk shouldn’t have mattered and yet here she was, thinking about this for the millionth time in her life. After meeting, they spoke frequently through text and phone calls. For years they maintain contact with one another. Each day the conversations would grow more meaningful and innocently intimate. They shared things with one another that they were afraid to tell other people and (Y/N) felt a genuine connection to Sebastian. She felt safe talking to him and confident in her trust of him. Little did she know though that he had been dating Gossip Girl star Leighton Meester on the down low for the last six months of talking to (Y/N). When he told her he was coming back to California between projects, and said that he wanted to see her, (Y/N) was elated. For her, the giddy feelings she had on the day they met had only been growing and growing uncontrollably for that matter. 

The pair met up at a club. By the time (Y/N) arrived, Sebastian had already had quite a few drinks and, being young and stupidly in love with this guy, she laughed it off and started drinking too. Anyways, as the night went on, the combination of the hot room, alcohol, and dancing--believe it or not, sometimes that Footloose town got it right--(Y/N) became needy for him. They went back to her place, which she lived alone in at the time, and...gah, even now she could still feel the sweet taste of liquor on her lips as she thought of Sebastian kissing her. The quivering of her legs as they tightened around his once they had fallen into her bed, the needy scratches they left on one another’s backs and sides, all of it was fresh in her mind. She never expected to lose her virginity to a famous actor but she lay in her bed that night, desperately trying to keep the excitement to herself. She didn’t want him to know it was her first time and, as far as she could tell, he was oblivious to that fact. It wasn’t until the day after he left that she learned what really happened that night.

Tabloids hit the stands and she hadn’t expected to see a grainy photo of her leaving the club with Sebastian hidden deep within one of the magazines she read while waiting for her haircut. Headlines reading  Gossip Girls Stars Secretly Dating and subheadings went something along the lines of Stan’s Dirty Little Secret caught (Y/N)’s attention. She could feel her lips tense and ran out of the salon and dialed Sebastian’s number. Only two rings went by before he answered.

“You’re a real fucking dick!” she yelled through the line.

“(Y/N)?” he asked. He sounded tired but she didn’t care.

“What the hell? You’re in a relationship--correction, you’ve been in a relationship?!” 

“(Y/N) look,” he tried to speak again.

“I’m not some fucking side action you can call up when you and your girlfriend are fighting, asshole!” Sebastian’s line was silent for a moment before (Y/N) could hear a woman’s voice ask what was going on. “You’re a real piece of work, Stan,” she stated and then slammed her phone shut.

What (Y/N) hated more than Sebastian was her inability to understand why she continued to feel tethered to him. It’s like he could walk all over her and she was still hooked. He was a terrible drug to her and no matter how many times she’d OD on him, she always kept using. Time after time, a year or two would go by and the pair would try and reconcile. Sex was just something that came naturally between them and normally afterward, (Y/N) would be left feeling vulnerable and foolish. Whether things fell apart between them because of his work schedule or because of him coming to her with needs, eventually, their relationship consisted of few intimate conversations and more physical intimacy without any real emotion behind it...at least on his part. 

(Y/N) knew she was foolish. Her friends had made it clear, but she knew it before they said anything. She hated that she would jump whenever he asked her to and would give herself up to him so eagerly. When he was away she hated him with every fiber of her being and that hate only fueled more anger, but whenever she thought about how much she hated him, she became even more desperate for his touch. But it wasn’t just the physicality. She remembered their genuine connection and the conversations they used to have. She knew that the guy she fell for was somewhere amidst the dick he was turning into toward her. Maybe part of her hoped that one day he’d realize she would be the only constant in his life. Maybe she just needed him physically. She had finally come to the conclusion that she would never know. 

It was now twelve years after the pair first met. Over those twelve years, there were at least six or seven times where they used one another for their own benefit--more on his part than hers--and every time they were together, it gave her hope that it would be the last time they had to fall apart, yet when they inevitably did fall apart, (Y/N) forced herself to fall out of love with him. At first she convinced herself she was trying to fall out of lust, but when the memories of the good times they had with one another flooded her mind and swirled into her hatred of him, she couldn’t help the confusion that was caused by loving him. 

(Y/N) pulled up to the studio she was expected to be at today. Her career as a creative writer had finally taken off and there was a part of her that finally felt accomplished. She wrote books, plays, and has been a screenwriter for prominent movie producers for a few years now as well. It has been three years since she last saw Sebastian Stan...well, it was three years since she last saw him, that was until last Friday. She thought she was finally over whatever the hell emotions were going through her mind and heart, but when she saw him walk into the screenwriter’s office to ask a question about his script, both he and she were aware of the fact that they were working together and would be forced to be around one another.

Under any other circumstances--for example, never seeing him again in her life--(Y/N) would have been fine and would have gotten over the confusion of hatred and complete admiration for the man she met as a sophomore in college. She thought back begrudgingly to Friday as he knocked on the office door. Thinking it was a co-writer for the film’s script, she instructed him to come in. Once she realized her mistake, it was too late for her to fake a phone call or meeting and kick him out.

“I had a couple questions,” he spoke without bringing his eyes from the papers in his hands. (Y/N) could feel her heart sink and rise at the same time, virtually being torn apart in her chest as she immediately recognized his voice. Her eyes flicked from her computer screen to the man before her and his eyes had found their way to hers. “(Y/N),” he said in surprise. “I didn’t know you were working on this.” He laid his papers on the desk and stared at her, contemplating if giving her a hug was called for in a professional setting.

“Yeah, I haven’t heard from you for a few years,” she said with a smile on her face and a hint of bitterness in her voice. Her attitude was like drinking an unmixed macchiato--sweet at first, but once all the sweetened milk is gone, he was left tasting the bitter espresso her tone voice spat.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said while rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d really like to be able to look past every thing I did as a stupid twenty-something year-old kid and work with you on this project.”

“Why wouldn’t we be able to work professionally?” she questioned. It left him stunned in his tracks and she knew she was putting him a position where he was forced to admit to everything he’d done or seem like an ass. Finally, after twelve she felt like she had the upper hand, that was until the producers came in and ushered Sebastian and (Y/N) to set, leaving them in an air of uneasiness for the rest of the day.

Today was the start of a new week and (Y/N) was in the process of convincing herself to either ignore Sebastian’s existence on any level other than professional, or to get under his skin until he apologizes. She deserved an apology and she’d be damned if she didn’t get it. She had been jerked around by her feelings for him for at least eight of the twelve years she’d known him and she was finally in a position of power...a position to obtain closure.

She had arrived at the studio particularly early in order to organize her work area and make a few changes to the script the director had asked for. She had expected to be alone for the next few hours to get everything done, but she was wrong.

“Hey,” she heard a soft male voice call. Again, the splitting feeling in her heart puled through her chest. 

“Hello Sebastian,” she stated as she refused to take her eyes from the script before her.

“Can we talk?” he asked as he approached her and gently touched her wrist. “I brought your favorite,” he continued, “chai tea latte.” (Y/N) glanced at his direction and saw him set down a to-go coffee cup on the table in front of her. 

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked and swiveled in her chair to face him.

“Can we not do it here?” he asked. “There are cameras.”

“It’s a movie set, Seb, there are going to be cameras,” she retorted.

“I mean security cameras,” he said with a slight attitude before cocking an eyebrow and glancing over his shoulder at him. “Did you call me Seb?”

“I don’t know,” she muttered as she stood from her chair.

“I think you did,” he laughed. “It’s been a while since I heard that from your mouth.”

“What do you want Stan?” (Y/N) snapped as she followed him out of the main studio and into a props room. Slowly, his hand rose from the grasp it had on her wrist and was gently pressed against her cheek. “No,” she stated while slapping his hands from her face and stepping back.

“What the hell was that?” he asked. 

“I’m done doing this, Sebastian,” she stated.

“(Y/N), can you give me a minute?” he asked and desperately grasped at her hands. “Please?” She slipped her hands from his and folded her arms across her chest.

“Do it without touching me,” she spat. She could see his face fall slightly, not for being forbidden from touching her, but because he could see how much he hurt her.

“I’m so incredibly sorry for everything. I shouldn’t have slept with you to get back on a girlfriend, I shouldn’t have taken your friendship and your kindness for granted. I shouldn’t have done most of the things I’d done to you.”

“Are you sorry for having ever slept with me or sorry for being an asshole?” she asked with her eyes narrowed at him.

“I’m sorry for not treating you the way you deserve to be treated. For not loving you the way you deserved to be. This probably means absolutely nothing to you now, but I swear I fell in love with you when we met during The Covenant. It was stupid and I was stupid. I’m not apologizing for a second I’ve spent with you because being with you makes me feel ways I haven’t felt with anyone else. I think I can genuinely say I’ve never loved someone the way that I love you. I thought distancing myself from you would keep me from hurting you--clearly that’s all I’ve done to you: take advantage of you, use you, and hurt you, and if you can find it anywhere in your heart to forgive me, I’d like to start over.” 

Sebastian had jammed his hands into his pockets to keep from grasping at her hands--an impulse he had developed with (Y/N). He couldn’t deny that he had found solace in her all those years ago. Their connection was real and he was emotionally impacted just as much as (Y/N) had been. He didn’t expect to hear a single word of acceptance from her, and she had every right to yell at him for every time she was left feeling unimportant, but they both knew she was kinder than that. 

“Do you still have my number?” she asked. He looked at her with strange curiosity in his eyes as he nodded. “You’re welcome to come to my place for dinner. We can talk more about this then,” she said softly. He nodded and took a step toward her, needing to hold her again, just to make sure this was actually happening and it wasn’t some twisted dream his subconscious made up. When he felt her hands on his back and her breaths as he leaned his head on her shoulder, his heart subsided from it’s violent pounding and he knew he was lucky. As many times as he had hurt her, as many times as they fell apart, as many times as each of them had convinced themselves they had fallen out of love with the other, they managed to fall back into one another’s life and maybe...just maybe they would fall into love again.

[harrylee94writes]

Henry and the Ink Machine Part 3

Thanks everyone so much for all the support you've been giving my stories this past week, it's been amazing, and a dream. A special thank you to everyone who's been reblogging them as well; you guys are awesome and I love you all!

I'm continuing @thelostmoongazer‘s Reverse Bendy AU today, and it's a bit longer than the last two (I think). I'll probably be putting it on AO3 soon, and I will post a link here when I have.

Inspired by @thelostmoongazer‘s sketches here and here, and @the-vampire-inside-me’s, here.

Quick Summary: Bendy, having been living in the human world for the past 30 years, received a note from his creator, and is lured back to his once home. But what will he find there? And will he ever leave again?

First Part  Previous Part  Next Part

The Ink Machine had always been running, churning out an ever flowing supply of ink for reasons Bendy never really fully understood, making an ever present churning clanking noise and, every so often, breaking, meaning someone would have to fix it and ink would just spill everywhere. No one liked that room, not even the toons. No one except for Joey that was.

He used to spend hours in there, staring at the machine like it was some kind of miracle. Sure, it had brought the cartoons he and Henry had created to life, brought Bendy into the human world, but it was still just a machine really. Bendy didn’t want to know what exactly it was that had brought him to life, but the Ink Machine had always felt… wrong somehow.

Now though it sat there, silent, with no sign of a mechanic, and no Joey, just a shell of what it used to be, and yet all the more frightening. He had once wondered how it had made so much ink, but now he didn’t care; he just wanted to save Boris.

Taking a steadying breath, Bendy stepped into the room, his boot making a dull thunk against the bare floorboards. He had to find that last ‘offering’, even if that meant entering this nightmare of a room.

Just like every other room, it was lit only by artificial light, the floorboards were splattered with patched of ink, and there were pages of sketches pinned and stuck to the wall. The main difference, of course, was the monstrosity that sat in the centre under blackened pipes. It almost looked like an overweight elephant with a trunk ready to spurt water everywhere. Or some backwards sort of vacuum cleaner.

Shifting Sammy’s record and Joey’s ‘book’ to one hand, Bendy carefully started to trudge his way around the machine, not wanting to take his eyes off of it in case it – impossibly – started to work, but also knowing he had to find the last item. With a great reluctance, the toon forced himself to look away from the dreaded machine, searching the area for that missing cog.

Luckily, it didn’t take him very long, as it was sitting propped up against the wall behind the doorframe. It meant he had to do a bit of a juggling act with the record and book in order to carry everything, but Bendy was able to leave the room quickly, trotting back to the Break Room once more to finish setting everything up.

The book, record and cog were all easy enough to place back on their pedestals, but it took Bendy some time to put the toy in place. It wasn’t that he couldn’t or anything like that, he was tall enough, but it reminded him of some many good things. It reminded him of when he’d first been created, of playing pranks, or sitting in Henry’s corner and drawing. It reminded him of better times, more innocent times. Times where he didn’t wear worn out coats or live on the streets.

With a shudder and a sniff, Bendy shook himself and, squeezing the toy one last time, he placed it in it’s spot.

As soon as the toy touched the pedestal, there was an empty clunk and the notice next to the lever suddenly started flashing the words ‘Low Pressure’.

“You’ve gotta be kidding!” Bendy huffed, trying to think of what to do. He could remember seeing another button in the projection room, maybe that was what he had to press.

With a huff of annoyance, the Dancing Demon made his way back through the winding halls, wondering where all the windows had gone and trying desperately not to think of Boris. When he finally reached the projection room he sighed, walking across the room to-

The projector turned on, showing a simple sketch of Bendy dancing as slow music played.

The real Bendy tripped several steps backwards and fell on his backside, breathing in sudden gasps. “Who’s there?!” he demanded shakily. “C-come out! I know y-yer there!”

There was a click, and Bendy tensed even further, but then there was nothing. Shivering in place for several long seconds, the cartoon dancing against the wall, the live toon waited, then slowly rose to his feet, stepping slowly, cautiously, around the projector, ready to run at a moment’s notice, only to stare at the empty space in confusion.

Nothing. No one. Just the ink stained floor and a button on the wall.

A button that had clearly just been pressed.

“… Ha… haha,” he chuckled as he stepped away, looking around nervously. “Very funny. Y-ya got me.” Clutching at his scarf, Bendy stumbled quickly out of the room, running, sprinting, as he looked frantically at everything, jumping at the cut-outs of himself, cringing nervously away from the pumping pipes, whimpering as he passed Boris’s exposed body  before all but jumping through the Break Room and pulling the lever.

The lights immediately turned off, and for a moment Bendy was trapped in a thick darkness, his heart beating rapidly in his throat as his breaths came in fast uneven puffs, but then the ones in the hallways flickered and blazed back into life.

Not wasting another second, Bendy fled the room, running back to Boris’s side… only to find that the ink he was getting wasn’t enough. It kept spurting out of the cavity that was his chest, dribbling down to pool on the floor. “No no no, ye’ve gotta get better B-Boris!,” Bendy begged. “C’mon! You gotta… Please!”

Ink splattered in his face and Boris remained silent. “… M-more ink,” the little toon muttered. “I need… more ink.” He nodded to himself, stepping backwards, eyes fixed on Boris’s body as the ink dribbled down his cheek. “I’ll get more. I will.”

From the Ink Machine. He would do it. For Boris.

Following the familiar yet forgotten sound of the churning of the Machine’s gears, Bendy almost ran into the boards that had suddenly blocked the door, his mind too full of thoughts of misery and helplessness, but at the last second, just before he touched them, he blinked.

“What? But, these weren’t…”

Reaching out, he made to touch the boards, but then an unearthly screech grated in his ears, sending him back several steps… just in time to narrowly dodge a long, clawed hand as a monster reached out from him.

Instincts and adrenalin kicking in, Bendy fled, eyes wide as he dodged the ink suddenly pouring from the ceiling, splashing in flooded corridors , all thoughts of Boris vanishing as he tried to escape, heading directly to the exit. When at last he reached the entrance hall, he couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

But it only left him breathless as the floor fell out from under him, falling down one, three, too many floors, and landing heavily on solid panelled flooring.

Bendy coughed, winded and aching, and wheezed as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He didn’t recognise this room, with the door blocked by a selection of chairs and a chest of drawers, but knowing his luck so far, it was probably the way out.

Heaving himself to his feet, the toon looked up at the way he’d fallen, and was surprised to find that it was actually a well-constructed tunnel. Had this… been planned? But, then that would mean that Joey… and that Boris…

Bendy shook himself, forcing panic and tears back as he pushed onwards, following the path onwards. It seemed to be leading him down, though to where he did not know, until he reached what seemed to be a dead end. Another doorway boarded up for apparently no reason, and there were no gaps big enough for Bendy to fit through. Once upon a time he might have been able to, but spending so much time in the human world did things to a toon.

Perhaps there was something he could… Oh again with the writing on the walls? This time it was simply HE LIED TO US. It made Bendy want to shiver in shame, but he had more important things to do.

Like getting that axe on the wall!

“This will sure come in handy,” he muttered, lifting it down from the hooks and giving it an experimental swing or two. With a nod to himself he turned towards the boarded up doorway and started hacking away.

Wood splintered and cracked, pieces falling away and giving Bendy enough space to walk through, heading further in to the mysterious area as he eyed the candles still lit in the corners warily. Unfortunately, when he reached the last door, he had to jump a bit to reach all the boards, but he managed to free it in the end.

When he opened it though, what he found was… was…

“H-Henry?” he stuttered, axe falling from his fingers as he stared at the figure before him.

“… You shouldn’t have come back.”

I hope you guys enjoyed the update! I'm not 100% thrilled with it, but there was a lot of moving about in this one, and the environment is not exactly conducive to elaborate writing all the time.

I'll be uploading the AO3 link as soon as I've put this on there! Until next time.

[bbuckyybbarness-blog]

Upstairs, Downstairs Part 1

Summary: A painfully shy dental assistant at the tower gets an unexpected group of friends, and with them comes a whole new world that she never bargained for.

EVENTUAL Bucky x Reader. Reader becoming close friends with the team, especially Steve.

Written in 1st Person, POV of the reader, unless otherwise stated.

TW: Swearing, extreme shyness, that’s really it for this chapter?

Word Count: 1455

A/N: Hi Dolls! So this is a request I received from the lovely Sascha (@loveyourselfcreateyourself). It started out as a one shot that is now going to be in a couple of parts, because as soon as I started writing it, I got carried away, my mind took over! Anyway, enough from me, I love all your support and feedback! Thank you so much <3

P.S – I have a Steve x Reader one shot that will be coming soon, and a Sebastian Stan x Reader piece ready to go, so keep your peepers open for those if you’re interested. Also, please let me know if you want to be permanently tagged in my stuff, as I’d be happy to oblige. Again, I love y’all –Rae xo

 1.       What the fuck have I got myself into?!

“Ugh.” The alarm, the stupidly loud, annoying alarm. Look, whoever told me that setting your favourite song as your alarm tone is a good idea, was a damn liar. “Time to get this show on the road Y/L/N”

I dragged my ass out of bed and started the routine. Brush my teeth, hop in the shower, dry myself, get dressed…well, you know the drill. The same old shit day in and day out. Not that I’m complaining, I have a good life. A good job, a steady wage, there’s really nothing I should complain about. But, and it’s a small but, I’m lonely. I know right, pass me the violin. I’m so shy that I can’t make friends easily, and when people talk to me, I freeze like a deer in the headlights. I’m so painfully shy, that I physically cannot talk to someone without looking like I’m in pain, and people mistake this for me being a stuck up bitch. I’m not, honestly I’m not, believe me, if I could talk to people without choking on the words, trust me, I would. It would make my job a million percent easier, and I might have even become a dentist by now, but such is life, things could be worse.

So, with that bombshell roaming around my head, and let’s face it, when is it not roaming around my head, I headed to work. I open the door and the crisp morning air slaps me in the face, as if to say, ‘wake up.’ I start my usual walk to the tower, overthinking the social interaction with the Chinese delivery boy last night, when I mindlessly check the time. 8;57?! Shit. I start at 9.

I sprint the entire way to the tower. I could give Usain Bolt a run for his money if I carry on the way I’m going. I was so focused on getting to the tower, that I wasn’t even thinking about the glass door. And yep, you guessed it, I run straight into it. At full speed. This sends me and my glasses flying to the ground. I pick myself up, dust off my uniform and reach around for my glasses. Like Velma, from Scooby Doo. When I finally find them, they’re broken.

‘Shit, great, this is perfect, fan-dabby-fucking-dozy’ I mutter to myself, ‘And now I’m five minutes late, for fucks sake.” Time to face the music, and probably get fired.

“You’re late.” Dr Green never even looked up from his paper. This Professor Snape looking asshole was the bane of my very existence. The only thing I hate about work is this cretin.

“I know I am Sir, I am so very sorry, it won’t happen again, I had some trouble on the way here, and then I fell down, and broke my glasses and-“ I trailed off, explaining myself as quickly as I could to avoid being given the heave-ho.

“Not bothered, don’t care. So, you’re late to work, and show up blind. Brilliant. Fat lot of good you’re going to be today. Go and fetch in the next patient Y/L/N, IF you can see him,” Fuck this guy. He’s such an asshole. He manages to make me feel unqualified AND about two inches tall within 10 seconds. He insists on me calling him Sir or Dr, which automatically makes me hate him. I mean come on, you’re a fucking dentist dude. You don’t go saving people’s lives and shit on the regular. No, that’s what the Avengers are for. Asshole.

“Yes Sir.” I slam the door. God he pisses me off. “Thank god I did break my glasses, means I won’t have to look at your ugly mug all fuckin’ day” I mumble under my breath.

“Ooh shit, who pissed you off sweetie?”  Sam Wilson. Of course he heard you, and he was the patient today, brilliant. If your lateness didn’t give you the boot, cursing in front of an Avenger was certainly going to seal the deal.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry for the profanity, sir. No one was meant to hear that. Dr Green is ready for you“ And he laughs. No actually, he doesn’t laugh. He howls. This dude is screaming his ass off at me.

“What’s your name?” We could use someone who is a good laugh like that upstairs. Ease the tension” Upstairs. UPSTAIRS?! Upstairs is where they all live, upstairs is a no-go for people like me.

Oh, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I work for the ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ themselves. Well, not for them specifically, but we are the in-house, on call 24/7 dental practice for them. Which is basically the same thing, right? I mean in makes total sense, with the amount of fighting they do, they’re gonna be losing some teeth, or chipping them at least. And they need someone here all the time, to fix them back up again, and that’s where we come in. And hey, at least it means I’ll always have a job. Unless I’m ever late again.

“I’m-um-my name-is-Y/N. Y/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N, sir. It’s an honour to be working for you.” There he goes again, bent over in the waiting room, cackling.

“I could get used to that treatment.” He manages to breathe out between laughs.

“Sir, Dr Green is waiting?” I stumble over my words, as bloody usual.

“Oh shit yeah, sorry.”

I walk into the dental theatre and take my chair next to Green.

“Ok, Falcon, what seems to be the problem here?” he starts, as if it wasn’t obvious. The guy is missing a front tooth. Even I can see that and I’m half blind!

“Erm, well. My tooth got knocked out during a mission again.” He lifted his top lip to show the gap where it had been taken. After a little examination, Green turned around to me.

“Prepare Mr. Wilson’s moulds. He needs this doing as soon as possible. If you can see the file.” He makes my skin crawl and my palms itch.

“Certainly Sir, right away.” I smiled sickly sweet at him. Kill ‘em with kindness, it’s the only way to stop myself from killing him for real.

I know my job inside and out, I could do it in my sleep. I just lack the social confidence to take it a step further, and with Green putting me down all the damn time, I second guess myself. Anyway, the procedure went without a hitch and I was soon escorting Sam back to the reception area. I fumble around the desk to finish some last bits of paperwork for Sam before he leaves.

“Hey, Y/N. When are you on your lunch break?” Huh? What? Why is he asking?

“Oh, um, it’s at 1.30, sir.” There I go again, tripping over my words. The feeling I get in my chest when speaking to someone is what I’d akin to being stabbed feels like.

“Ok, well, why don’t you come upstairs for your lunch? Floor 47. I want you to meet the team. Without them having weapons of torture hanging out of their mouths. Unless Barnes gets snappy, then you have my full permission to poke him with a pointy metal object.” He laughs once again, he was being really kind, but if I’m like this with just him, what will I be like with the whole team all at once. Nuh-huh, no way, no how, I’d rather die.

“Er, Mr Wilson, I don’t think that-”

“Sam. Please, call me Sam. Or Falcon. Or Hot Stuff. Whatever works.”

“Ok then, Sam, I’m not sure that this is appropriate.” But it sure would piss off ole’ Greeny.

“1) It’s your lunch, you can do whatever you damn well please. 2) You don’t like Dr Green, and I imagine some time away from his ‘ugly mug’ will do you some good, and 3) I’m asking you to. You’re funny. You don’t need to be nervous, they’ll love you. Trust me, please Y/N? What have you got to lose?” Upstairs. I’ve been officially invited UPSTAIRS to have lunch with THE AVENGERS, THE FUCKING AVENGERS! This stuff never happens, ever. It’s like Downton Abbey, you have the high class upstairs, and the scullery maids and servants downstairs. It’s not like I can really see them anyway because of my glasses, it’s not as if I’m going to become friends with them. They’ll not even remember me until they come in with a cavity, and probably not even then. Fuck it, you only live once right?

“Ok Sam. I’ll be there. Floor 47. 1.30” a burst of energy runs through me, giving me a little pep in my step.

“Really?! That’s great! They’re gonna fuckin’ love you, I swear” That’s it, nothing more said. He’s gone. And I’m having lunch with the avengers.

What the fuck have I got myself into?

 TAGS: @cami23593 @alittlewerewolfgirl @electronicstrangerdaze @buenostardissherlock @blissful-fantasy @secretlittledelights @aelania @smilexcaptainx @maddierose0015 @barnes-toddpartnersinheartbreak @brokenanxiety (If any of ya’ll don’t want to be tagged in this or any future stories of mine. Please let me know. I thought I’d give you the option. –Rae xo)

[yastaghr]

Our Skeleton: Chapter 7

Our Skeleton

Characters: Asgore, Toriel, Sans, Danny the music store owner (minor human)

Pairings: Sans/Toriel/Asgore, Sansgoriel, Toriel/Asgore, Togore, Asgore/Sans, Sansgore, Sans/Toriel, Soriel

Warnings:  If you see something you want a warning for, let me know.

Story Summary: The people who love him come to realise Sans may be hiding something from them. (not the best of summaries, sorry)

<–Previous || First || Next–>

Ao3

“uh...what’s all this, tori?”

She turned her face from the sink and giggled at the stunned expression on Sans’ face. His gaze washed over the bowls of spices scattered around the kitchen. Garlic powder, onion powder, mustard powder, celery salt, pepper, cloves, vinegar and sugar; all laid out and ready to be mixed.

The skeleton rubbed his eye sockets. He blinked, then tilted his skull at her, no doubt trying to figure out what recipe all these ingredients had in common...or, knowing him, wondering when the food would be ready. Sans was not known for his abilities as a chef.

She nodded at the apron hanging off the dining room chair and turned back to her work. Peeling tomatoes, while not the most arduous task, certainly involved a lot of squish.

“Gorey got called into work unexpectedly, and since it seemed we would have the day all to ourselves, I thought it would be an excellent time to try out this recipe. One of Roger’s fathers from the PTA recommended it to me. He said it was the greatest homemade ketchup sauce he’d ever had the honor to taste.”

“terrance said that?”

She nodded, hearing the rustling of cloth as he wrestled with the apron, “Indeed. Such high praise comes once in a thousand years.”

“yup. don’t think i’ve ever met anyone, monster or human, with such a powder-ful sense of taste.”

She chortled, “I rather think you have hit the nose on the onion.”

Dead silence. The monster behind her radiated confusion. She was beginning to pick up on his magic more and more of the time. The way he hid it almost reminded her of something...she would have to think about that later.

Without looking back, she gestured at the bowl of onion powder. A few seconds later, Sans’ sneezed.

It was an adorable sneeze. It was a cute sneeze. It was a small sneeze trapped in a large skull. It was a high-pitched, diminutive little button of a sneeze. It made her want to coo.

Toriel set the last, peeled tomato down into the tureen with the slightest splat. She rinsed her hands in the icy water, switched it off, and dried them on the hand towel. Then she spun, leapt, and hugged.

Sans’ right arm, lifted to wipe at his nasal cavity, was trapped between his skull and her bosom. She nuzzled into him, cooing and rumbling and generally making herself look like a fool. But honestly, who could resist a sneeze like that?

Asgore sat at his desk in the embassy. The rhythmic clack clack clack of typing melded nicely with the bubbling of the coffee machine. Monsters and humans of all sizes and descriptions chatted merrily. Their last big bill had come through on Friday, so today was a little bit of a celebration. At the very least, none of the paperwork on his desk was needed signed immediately.

In fact, the notebook in front of him had nothing to do with Monster-Human relations. It was brand new, a little blue spiral-bound with daisies in the margins. Undyne had gotten it for him to plan his gardens in. Instead, it was being used to plan an investigation. The investigation into the childhood of a certain small skeleton.

He had started out with the basic facts. He knew Sans’ brother was Papyrus. As far as family members went, that was all he could remember. He knew there were quite a few skeleton families who’d been living in the Capitol, so perhaps calling some of them would be a good way to start? Then again, he needed a better description of the two if he was going to be asking questions.

Let’s see; he knew Sans had graduated from the high school in Snowdin. That meant they probably had relatives or family friends they’d stayed with out there. He’d have to ask Grillby. The old flame had been living and working their for as long as the town had existed. Asgore recalled Sans’ fondness for the new Grillby’s, and made that phone call a top priority.

Sans’ birthday was...he flipped through the calender with growing confusion. He sent a text to Tori, and she came up with the same result - nothing. Neither of them had any idea when Sans’ birthday could be. Or Papyrus’, for that matter. He made a note to ask Sans why they hadn’t celebrated the skeleton brothers’ birthdays since they had come to the Surface. Of course, it had not been a full year, so perhaps their birthdays had not arrived yet. That seemed more likely.

How old were they? Papyrus had been trying to be in the Royal Guard in the Underground. Skeletons aged at a rate of about 15 years to every human one, so the youngest age he would have been able to join was - Asgore opened a drawer and retrieved a calculator - 270. Sans seemed quite a bit older than his brother, so logically he was more than 330.

Logically only got him so far when faced with the real possibility that one or both of them had been neglected emotionally, if not in other ways. If not worse.

He shook his head and turned to a new page. Thinking about what could be would get him nowhere. What he needed was a place to start. He wrote down a list of names, people who might have a few more leads than he did. It read as follows:

Grillby (Snowdin?) Undyne (Sentries - age, birthdays, and medical history?) Skeleton Families (Parents? Lost/orphaned/runaways?) Gerson (had to get to snowdin somehow - memories?)

Well, he knew where he was going to start. Gerson was standing not ten feet away, chatting with one of Aaron’s cousins and no thirsty enough for a nice cup of tea.

Toriel helped Sans settle in the back seat, securing his seat belt before closing the door and settling into the front seat. It was a mild nuisance, these weight laws. Sans was a fully grown adult, and with only the two of them in the car, why should he not sit up front where he could see? But rules were rules, and they must follow them, or where would they be?

She finished adjusting the rearview mirror and reached for the radio. She went to turn the dial., then reconsidered.

“Sans, I do not believe I have ever enquired as to your favorite music. What shall it be?”

“oh, you know me, tori. anything’s good.”

She turned and gave him The Look. His eye lights shrunk to pinpricks, and his right hand dug up a ragged thread from the bandage on his left.

“Sans the Skeleton, I would be remiss in my duties as a datefriend if I could not name your favorite music off the top of my head. So please, tell me.”

He sighed, “really, tori. i’m okay with anything, as long as it has a beat,” The look didn’t quell, and he reluctantly added, “i ain’t that driven when it comes to music while you drive. druther hear it live, or at least be able to play. don’t treble about me, i can listen to bass-ically anything and be okay.”

She cocked her head, “What do you play?”

He shrugged, snapping the thread, “trom-bone.”

She snorted, “I should have expected that, should I note? You shall have to play for us sometime.”

His eye lights shifted beneath hers.

“no.”

Her brow furrowed, “I am sorry?”

“no, tori. i can’t.”

She reached for her seatbelt, ready to cuddle him again. He waved his hand.

“it’s not that i think i’m bad or anything! i just...i didn’t realise how much that car of pap’s was gonna cost. it was an old thing, carved ‘special for some human and everything. they offered a lot, and it’s not like i got much use outta the thing, anyway, so…”

His voice trailed away. She searched his skull, and saw the emotion there. No musician was happy to part with their instrument. Despite what he said, Sans missed being able to play. She scrapped her plans of taking him to a comedy skit and readied her GPS for a new course.

“Which shop is it in?”

He looked up at her with dejection, “tori, i sold it months ago. there’s no way it’s still there.”

She grinned at him, “Then we shall have to track it down, will we not?”

In the depths of his eyes, she saw the glimmer of starlight, “really?”

She nodded vigorously, “Really.”

“Skeleton kids? Funny you should mention that. I was just talking to Aarvy over there about one of the more water locked rooms in Waterfall. He’s got a friend back in the Underground who thought it looked like a nice place to move in. She found an odd message in the echo flower there, something about too much responsibility. And some kind of pastry thing tucked under the seat, too.”

Asgore poured his longtime friend and former Captain another cup of tea. He knew Gerson could go on in one of his stories for ages, but sooner or later he always reached the core of the things. All Asgore had to do was be patient and keep the turtles cup filled with tea.

“It made me think of a pair of younguns, oh, more than a hundred, hundred fifty years ago now. Thought they were twins, but I could be wrong. One of them was having a hard time walking. Kept trying to lead the other away, even if they kept tripping over their own feet. Thought about asking them to let me call their families, but the healthier of the two picked up the other and scurried away before I could get out my front door. Didn’t see them again, so I figured they’d found a home somewhere, wah ha ha!”

Asgore set his own cup down thoughtfully.

“And you believe these two could have been skeletons?”

Gerson winked, “Had to be. Had some ratty cloaks on, of course, but I remember seeing bone, and there’s nothing quite as white as a skeleton’s bones. Rattling, too, now I come to think of it. Scared little things, to be rattling like that. Wonder what made them fret that way? Speaking of fret, old Mettaclunk or whatever his name is hired this new human to back up his songs. I’ve got to say...”

Asgore let the conversation drift onto other things, letting the image Gerson had just set in his mind simmer to be worried over another day.

Toriel ducked under the lintel of the thirteenth musical instrument store they had visited that day. Sans had been right that his trombone would not longer be in the same store.

Unfortunately, instead of being sold to a new owner who could possibly be persuaded to part with it, the store itself had gone out of business. Its stock had be auctioned off to every other music store in the area.

The auction house in question had lost their records in a fire, so all the pair had been able to learn was that the instrument was probably in another store, unless it had been sold off from there.

So far, none of the stores they had visited had seen the trombone, or any trombone in the last three months. Apparently trombones were not as much of a high-turnover instrument in this city as the violin or guitar.

“Danny’s Music Supply, what can I do ya for?”

The longest haired human she had ever seen ambled up from behind a standing bass. The smell of brass polish hit her in a wave. She blinked back tears and fought back the urge to gag.

Sans stepped up from behind her, weariness in his gait but a glint in his sockets.

“hey, you wouldn’t have seen a trombone in here lately, would you? bach 42b, orange tint, worn out engraving on the bell and slide? would have come from pearson and lash.”

The cashier whistled. They weren’t the first. Sans hadn’t known, but the trombone he’d picked up out of a battered case in the Garbage Dump was rather expensive in the human’s market. The shop he’d sold it to had undercut the lowest going price by half.

“That piece be a thing of beauty, no doubt about it. got me mighty curious how old pearson and lash got their mits on it. them boys had the lowest end market of the entire beat. take it they swindled you out of the true cash?”

Sans pulled his right hand out his pocket and passed over the receipt. The man whistled again.

“Yep, that what it be. Hate to tell you, but you got fleeced. That darling’s going for a thousand, easy. Not that I’d put a price tag on a glory like that. Come on back, I was just given her a shine. Bet she’ll be happy as can be to see a familiar face.”

Her eyes bulged, and she felt the stir of Sans’ magic do the same.

“she’s actually here?”

The man had a smile to rival Sans’ own.

“Yes indeedy. Got a feeling the minute I saw her. I said to me, ‘That be a thing of beauty. Ain’t no way she went to them boys under an honest word. Her owner’ll be coming back, right as rain,’ and you know what? There’s nothing I like more to see than an instrument and their musician back in proper arms. Not much money in it, but the smiles I get are worth more than the Crown Jewels. I said, ‘I’m gonna take this lady and keep her safe, ‘cause I know t’won’t be long till that smile’ll be shining in front of me,’ And look at that - here you be.”

She let the tears fall freely now. Here was a SOUL as kind as any she had ever seen. If there were any music shop in the world she would want an instrument to make a stay in, this was it.

Sans, in front of her, sniffed. She felt his magic fight to hold back tears. It made her pause. Humans, it seemed, had something of a stigma against open weeping. Monsterkind had no such idea, and so the practiced way in which the small skeleton hid away his emotions felt...weird. It was not out of keeping with the quietness of presence she had come to know, but it was entirely out of keeping with their culture as a whole.

As Sans followed the shopkeeper back behind the counter, she pulled out her phone and sent a message to Asgore. Yet another piece in the puzzle of their skeleton’s past.