#had to indulge myself with a few long car rides over the past few days

[pleasetakethis]

Took a quick break from writing (I have a handful of exchange deadlines coming up, so excited!) to load up the queue. It’s going to be a long week. I have been mostly MIA-ish and that will continue for a few more days, though I am trying to make time today or tomorrow to get my last two Marvel Femslash Week entries posted. Life is hectic but good!

[tnystrk-exe]

Estocolmo

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

Warnings: Smut 18+ thigh riding, fingering, oral, daddy kink, plot to make up for my first attempt at writing smut.

Word count: 6.8k

Chapter One

“Fucking hell.” You sighed as you looked at the still tall stack of essays that needed grading. “I’m never getting through this.”

Your stomach grumbled, signaling it was time for a break. Stretching, the quiet was interrupted by the sound of your bone’s protest from sitting in one position for hours. It was nights like these you had regretted your choices. Sure you had known Professor Jacob loved to torture his students with too much work, but when you took the job as his assistant you assumed that he’d shoulder some of the weight. A ridiculous thought now that you’ve experienced working with him. Why should he even think of grading an assignment when he had a perfect little lackey doing it for him? That was a non question. He had been strict about the work not leaving his office, which meant you had accidentally fallen asleep in his office more than often than you would have liked. The pile of work never seemed to diminish. 

Walking out the office, you thought briefly of the joy you would feel when you’d never have to see it again. These long corridors would be a thing of the past in just a few, short months. Then you’d probably go to the city and struggle for a while but at least you would be free from here. As much as you prided yourself for getting through the first round of college, the walls of the building gave you more of an annoyed feeling than anything. 

Pushing open the door to the teachers lounge, you made a beeline for the fridge. The leftover pizza already seemed like a feast until you noticed it was nowhere to be seen. “Hannibal,” you whined to the empty room as you closed the fridge. 

“Yes, darling?” 

You startled, immediately turning around to face him, a mischievous smile was plastered on his lips. Usually your missing dinner meant to head over to his office. It wasn’t typical, but the two of you had managed a comfortable friendship between the shared late nights. Though, you suspected he’d stay longer than necessary to accompany you in the empty building. “Would you mind telling me where my dinner went, handsome?” You asked, raising a brow at him.

“Old pizza can hardly be considered dinner. Come,” he motioned to sit next to him at the table, “I’ve got a better meal prepared for you nonetheless.”

“Or maybe you just need to learn to appreciate the simple things,” you quipped as you took your seat.

“And you, the finer.”

You gave him an obvious look over, “I’d say I appreciate you plenty enough.” 

Being so forward wasn’t usually in your cards. However Hannibal had always been a gentleman and it had been fun to tease at him a bit. He never complained, often just acknowledging what you said with a raised brow or chuckle. Still there was always some truth in jokes and you’d be lying to say that he was anything less than tempting. Especially in the dark grey suit and dried blood red shirt of his. ‘No’ wouldn’t come to mind if he ever offered.

“Naughty, Miss LN,” he chided you, “What shall we do with you?”

“What do you want to do with me?”

“Eat your dinner,” he said, humor in his voice as he shook his head.

You choked back a comment about him just wanting to see your mouth stuffed, deciding it was too much of a push. Instead you just opened the lunchbox he placed in front of you. Hannibal watched you expectantly as you took a bite of the meat.

Closing your eyes, you savored the bite. It had been a while since you had something home cooked. “Han... I’m going to miss you most. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. Delicious, as always.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” He went back to work on his own stack of papers as you ate. “Though, I’m not sure I’m ready to allow you to live off street food once we part.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to find me another man that insists on throwing away my perfectly good food to serve me home cooked meals.”

Hannibal left some remarks on a paper before pushing it to the side. “You could always come learn a few things. Maybe I’ll rest better knowing you know how to make yourself a couple of decent meals. Any guesses for the meat?”

It was a strange guessing game, but you indulged him, he was just eccentric. “Oh, definitely human,” you teased, making sure to pick up some spinach and artichoke in the next bite, “Probably had a boring name like David.”

“Close. It was Richard,” he corrected. 

“Beef, it was the Rolex of all farm animals hand picked by you and I’m very grateful you shared some with me,” you smiled at him, “So how are things going with Baltimore?”

“I’ve found a beautiful home. The office, however, seems to be harder to find.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect one.” Your phone started ringing. Grabbing it from your pocket, you looked at the screen. Mom. “They’re making this unnecessarily difficult,” you sighed to yourself. 

Hannibal looked at you with peaked interest as you shut off your phone and pushed it away. “Is something troubling you?”

“My parents aren’t taking too kindly to the no contact rule. It’s the tenth call today.”

“You’ve cut them off?”

“I thought about what you had said,” you shrugged, “I’m tired of always having to get them out of troubles and be their ATM when I don’t have enough for myself. It’s just too much on me right now. Between school assignments, Jacob’s work pile, and my other part time, it’s all just suffocating. They keep trying to use my grandfather’s death as a leverage to make me feel bad about not talking to them now, but they just want some money. I don’t want to feel guilty about this but I can’t help it.”

“Don’t,” he placed his hand over yours, “You deserve to feel taken care of and appreciated. They aren’t providing you with that now. Especially now when they use the death of the person who raised you as leverage,” he shook his head, making a disgusted sound, “It’s for your own well-being that you take some time to breathe and be young. They provide too much stress…” Hannibal fell silent. “I’ve suggested this before but i-“

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “I’m not taking your money. We’re friends. Money complicates things. Muddies the waters.”

“Friends help each other,” he reminded you, “I’ve already told you I wouldn’t want any payment.”

“But I’d still feel like I owe you.” You shook your head, “It wouldn’t feel right to me. I’m fine. I promise. Though, if you’re so willing to help me with something, I wouldn’t say no to those cooking lessons. They could be fun.”

He spared you a smile, “It would be my pleasure to teach you what I know.”

“And I’d never deny your pleasure,” your mouth spoke before you could think about it, “Sorry.”

“I don’t deny myself pleasure either,” he said, amused. “You’re fine. Now, how about we meet on Sunday? I’ll have time to figure out a full meal and gather all of the ingredients.”

“Great!” You ignored the heat that still lingered on your face, “I- um, do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nothing at all, I’ll make sure to take care of everything. All you need to do, sweet girl, is bring yourself and an appetite.”

You stifled a pleased smile at the term of affection. “I’ll make sure to do that,” sparing a glance to the clock, you frowned, “I should probably get back to work on those essays.”

“Why don’t we work on them together?” He suggested. “My colleague is notorious for drowning you in his work. I can help you sort through it all and you can have a restful Saturday without Micheal’s added stress.”

“I really can’t ask that of you. You already have enough work as it is.”

“We’ll work together. First your work, then mine. What happened to never denying my pleasure?” 

Your eyes widened, but you laughed all the same. Maybe a while more in his company wouldn’t be so bad. “Fine. Hold me to my words, but it’s only going to cause you a headache. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. These new kids are… something else.”

“They’re nothing,” he stood, grabbing his papers in one hand, “Meet me in my office. We can be more comfortable there and I may have stowed away a bottle of wine.”

“What would I do without you Doctor Lecter?”

-

“You have arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice informed you as you parked.

You took in the mansion of a home. It was too big for someone that lived alone. The thought made you shiver. Homes should be filled with life, not empty space. Then again, he was a fan of dinner parties, extravagant ones at that, so you supposed there was life in those walls on occasion. The home itself reminded you of the houses in old movies. Ones where the lightning would strike at just the right moment as a warning to stay away. But this was real life and there was no lightning, just a sun setting on a near perfect day. 

Without a warning telling you to keep away, you grabbed the gift bag and stepped out of your car. He had said to bring nothing, but you couldn’t resist a simple gift. The ties in the bag had taken out a decent chunk from your pocket, but he deserved them. Between agreeing to give you cooking lessons and helping you out with grading every so often, the simple pieces of fabric meant nothing. Besides, it was a two way gift, he’d get more of the patterned ties he was fond of and you’d get to see him in the darker colors you liked on him, knowing he’d feel compelled to wear them to show you his gratitude.

Knocking on the door, you waited a couple of minutes before he emerged. “YN, just in time. Please, come in,” he stepped to the side, “I’ve looked forward to this all day.”

You smiled and stepped past him. “I have too. Entertained myself a bit today by finding you a gift.” 

“Darling, you shouldn’t have.”

Nervousness bit at you slightly, a bit self conscious they’d be too cheap for his taste. Too late to back out of it, you handed over the bag. “You’ve always been so kind and I really appreciate everything. Let me do something for you.”

He set the bag on the nearby table, laying out the ties to get a better look at them.  “They’re all lovely,” he ran a finger across the fabric of a maroon one, “Fond of me in darker colors, YN?”

“What can I say?” You shrugged, “We catch ourselves spending a lot of time together. Why not make you a decent piece of eye candy?”

“Inappropriate,” he chided you, before signaling you to follow after him.

“You just wear them so well, Doctor Lecter.”

Shrugging off his navy suit coat, he draped it over a chair, making quick work of rolling up his sleeves. “Ready to get your hands dirty, my little sous-chef?”

“What are we making?” You asked, looking at his kitchen wide eyed. It was definitely bigger than your measly studio apartment. 

“Frisee aux lardons, duck with a pomegranate-citrus glaze. I took the liberty of preparing a blood orange sorbet for dessert.”

“I have a proposal.”

“Yes?”

“We don’t do any of that and just have dessert for dinner.”

“No,” he gave you an amused glance, “There’s more pleasure in waiting for things. Why don’t you start washing up the vegetables and I’ll start preparing the duck?”

You stuck your tongue out at his back but set to your work. “This is what I get for befriending a charming old guy.”

“Keep going the way you are and our next meal together will be langue d’Agneau en papillote.”

“That can’t be a threat if I don’t know what that means,” you quipped, setting aside an endive. 

“It means, darling,” he pointed his knife at you, “The fondness I feel for you is an inconvenience. Nonetheless, it’s welcomed.”

You smiled at him brightly, as you brought the washed vegetables over to him. “I’m fond of you too, but you gotta stop flirting and teach me how we’re gonna cook Daffy here.”

He motioned for you to grab a cutting board and a knife of your own. The two of you worked in quiet harmony, occasionally he’d tell you exactly why he was doing something a certain way or just give you simple instructions and let you have a hands on feel of exactly how to prepare something. It was nice to see him in his element. Hannibal seemed much more content in his kitchen than any where you had seen him at the college. Eventually he set his work to the side and washed his hands. 

“You’re cutting them too thick. Thinner is better for this dish.” He stepped behind you, “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead.” You attempted to move to the side, but Hannibal had already caged you in between himself and the counter. His cologne was different from the one you were accustomed to him wearing, but the subtle spice of it gave a more homey feeling to him. 

Hannibal grabbed your hand that had yet to  let go of the knife. He made sure to show you how to cut them the right thickness. “See? A little thing can unbalance everything.”

“Hm,” you hummed, catching yourself relaxed against the man, his frame strong against yours, “I don’t see much of a difference. Pretty sure this is just your variation of a putter.”

“You assume I have hidden motives,” He acknowledged, looking down at you, “And if there were any?”

Taking the bait, you pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw. “I wouldn’t be too upset.”

His head dipped into your shoulder, taking in a breath. “What happened to not wanting to bring on complications in our friendship?”

“We only have weeks left with each other,” you shrugged, “There wouldn’t be any complications. Not really.”

“We really should get back to making our dinner, darling,” he sighed, almost seeming reluctant to pull away, “What else did you did you do today?””

It took you a second to respond, still shaking off the embarrassment. You weren’t sure what had compelled you to do that. When you looked up at him you grimaced. Grabbing a napkin, you carefully wiped away the lingering lipstick. “The ties were the more interesting part of the day, I didn’t plan anything eventful. Honestly most of my day was taken with trying to recall the shop you mentioned that carried the ones you liked.”

He hummed in appreciation, “You also managed to pick out two I have had my eye on. I’ve got new suits coming in soon that will pair perfectly.”

You beamed at that, happy he did actually like what you had chosen. “Lucky guess. It was difficult remembering the ones I had seen you wear.”

Hannibal made to grab some ingredients and set them on the counter near the stove. “Have your parents tried calling you this weekend?”

You sighed, sure you didn’t have to tell him the truth but you wanted to, he had a compelling thing to him that made it easy to just speak. “I sent them money for rent. Which was honestly the dumbest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“It wasn’t idiotic,” he stated, setting to work on making the pomegranate sauce as you watched, “They’re you’re parents. It’s only natural you worry about them. Though, I do worry they’ll think of you as a person that doesn’t stick to her word.”

“I know, I really meant to, but the thought of them out on the street. It’s not my responsibility, but I’m just so used to being their adult.”

“It’s difficult to detransition. You worry for them as they should worry for you.”  He checked over a pan he had been heating, “That’s perfect. If you could please..” Grabbing the plate with the duck you set them on the pan. “With duck it’s important to render off the fat. A low heat is necessary.”

You nodded, “Low and slow, got it... You know, I’m not sure they worry about me at all. I mean- I know they don’t. It should hurt, but it’s just a fact of life.”

“They didn’t give you an opportunity to be a child. When you were supposed to be in the most carefree moments of your life, they burdened you with the responsibilities of an adult.” He held out a spoon with some of the pomegranate sauce for you to taste. “Any pain the notion inflicted on you has been killed with time.”

“There are still moments though. Suppose that’s common enough, isn’t it Doc?” You leaned in, allowing him to feed you, “That tastes amazing. I really should have paid attention.”

“It’s simple, I’ll write it out for you later.” Casting the sauce aside, he set a pot of water to boil. “Very common. We aren’t too dissimilar when it comes to how quickly we had to grow up. Very different reasons, but the fall out isn’t much different. Our paths left us in places where we’re very much alone.”

“What happened?” You asked, realizing that he had known a great deal of your family and you had known nothing more past how his day had gone or his preference of coffee. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t.” Hannibal went to fill two glasses with wine. “I was very young when my parents died. My father had implemented in me that, if anything were to happen, I was to take care of my mother and sister. Which meant I had grown fiercely protective of Mischa when the time came. Soon I was acting more as her father than a brother.”

“Where’s Mischa now?” You asked, knowing at the very least she had to be in her late twenties.

His lips set into a frown, he took a quick drink. “Lost her sometime after. There was a lapse of judgement on my part and she suffered because of it. My days have often been shrouded by the thought that I could have done better by her. The ways I failed burdens me significantly.”

You rubbed his arm sympathetically. “I couldn’t even begin to imagine that pain.”

“It’s something I never wish to experience again. Losing someone you love so dearly, it changes a person.”

“I’m sure you tried your best. You’re a good man. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that when you were so young.”

“You think too highly of me,” he patted your hand on his arm, “Far better than I deserve. Still if my childhood had taught me anything, it’s to value those I hold dear. Such as yourself.” 

“I’m glad we found each other. Even if it is for a short while.” You watched as he stepped back into the rhythm of cooking. Maybe you weren’t any help to him but watching him work was comforting. 

He raised a brow, “Just because the amount of time we physically see each other will diminish, doesn’t mean we need to completely break apart. I’d like to have you at my dinner table later in life.”

“I’d like it if we kept in touch,” you replied, looking at a small box on the counter. The small black beads glimmered in the light, calling at you to take a peek. A neat row of recipe cards in his impeccable penmanship, numbered as high as 120 but there could have been more. “That’s sweet,” you mused, looking at the back of a card, noticing a couple had business cards on them, “You keep track of your friends’ favorites like this?”

“Friends, acquaintances, business partners. It’s difficult remembering everyone’s preferences. When I have dinner parties I like to make sure there’s a bit of something for everyone.”

“Hm, well I’m sorry I don’t have a card for you to have.”

When everything was said and done, you helped Hannibal set up the plates to have dinner. The conversation became light as you laughed along to the better memories of Mischa. From his smile it was easy to see he adored the usually shy girl. You never pressed on to find out how she died, simply choosing to bask in his soft smiles and laughter instead of entertaining curiosity. It was easy to see he rarely talked about her and you were grateful that he found that much comfort in you.

Some time later he was sitting at his harpsichord, playing a self composed melody as you browsed his shelves. There was an almost familiar calm in the air, like this was a usual happening and it would simply just happen again. A naturally reoccurring moment. You found comfort in his presence too. 

You looked up from the shelves when you heard his sigh. “I can’t seem to master this melody,” he stated, “The ending never sounds right.” The annoyed demeanor contradicted his lax look. At least lax for him. His vest and suit jacket had been discarded a while ago leaving him with a popped button, loosened tie, and rolled up sleeves. “I may just leave this one in the air.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” you said, walking over to him, “Though we can be our own worst critics. I know I’m mine.”

“It sounds… forced. Almost as if it’s reluctant to work with me.”

“Forced things just need time.” You placed your hand on his shoulders, digging in your thumbs to relieve the tension you felt. A soft groan as he let his head lull back to rest against your stomach. “Time is all you need sometimes. I thought you would have learned that already, old man.”

He opened his eyes, raising a brow at you. “Always with that mouth.”

You smiled down on him fondly, something- probably the wine in your system -thought about pressing a kiss to his forehead right then. “What can I say? It has a mind of its own.”

“I do prefer when it’s otherwise occupied,” he stated, closing his eyes again.

Your fingers dug a little deeper at that, caught off guard. “And yet.”

Hannibal played a couple soft notes, seemingly testing the waters for his next attempt at getting it to sound right. “And yet.” The first melody seemed almost innocent, but was followed by a second seemingly stalking after it. “Would you mind putting on a record? It seemed I’ve grown bored with music of my own.”

“Sure thing, Han.” Giving his shoulders one final squeeze you pulled away from him. At the record table you browsed through his selection. Hannibal was still composing as you decided to go with a record that looked more worn than the others, figuring something well loved would help him out of his frustrated state. Setting it on the platter, you gave it a brief once over with the anti static brush, knowing he’d probably be attentive to that type of thing, and dropped the needle. The music filled the air as you took in the melody. “Very you.”

He let out a soft chuckle, abandoning the harpsichord, in favor walking over to you. “Very me, indeed.” Hannibal took the record sleeve out of your hand, setting it down on the table. The music’s build up reached. “Would you give me the honor?” His hand was stretched out toward you.

You gave him a sheepish smile, “Afraid I’m going to have to disappoint. I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I’ve been told I’m a wonderful teacher,” he pressed, a charming smile on his lips, “We all start somewhere. Let me be yours.”

A soft laugh bubbled from you as you took in his look of boyish excitement. “You’re not allowed to complain when I step on your toes.” You placed your hand in his. 

He gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you’re too terrible, I’ll show you the way I taught Mischa. You can stand on my toes as I try to help you commit the movements into muscle memory.”

“Handsome and a comedian.”

“I try my best.” Hannibal gave you a gentle spin as he pulled you closer. A kiss was pressed to your hand before he placed it on his shoulder. “Now, just follow after me,” he instructed, placing his hand on your hip.

The moment could have made you fall for the man as you danced with him throughout the room. Toothy smiles and teasing winks were sent your way the couple of times you stepped on his toe. Soon enough, you figured out the pace and learned how to follow through with his unspoken plans. Still, ever the novice, you managed to place your foot in a way that sent you both stumbling to the floor.

Hannibal held you close to his chest, ensuring you didn’t get hurt in the fall. “Oh my sweet girl,” he laughed, “we are going to need more practice.”

You hid your face against his neck, ignoring the fact that he could feel how hot your face was getting. “You want more of that?”

“You were doing perfect, YN,” he stroked your hair sympathetically, “One misstep isn’t something to be embarrassed about.”

Taking a deep breath, you shifted off of the older man, opting to sit beside him on the floor. Hannibal followed suit, leaning back on his elbows. “I really am going to miss seeing you regularly,” you admitted, reaching out your hand to push back the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. 

“We spend much of our time together,” he acknowledged as he looked at you curiously. “In the kitchen-“

Your eyes widened slightly, “We don’t need to talk about that i-it’s fine. No hard feelings.”

“Romantically or physically?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you see me as a romantic or physical conquest?”

“I, um,” you opted to look at your fumbling hands, “I’m honestly not sure about romance… especially considering… everything and my experience when it comes to romance. Never really thought past- I’m talking too much.”

Hannibal’s hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Oh? What happened to the confident girl in the kitchen? Don’t go shy on me now.”

“I was high on your cologne, you can hardly blame me,” you rambled, “It pairs with mine nicely I think.”

His thumb stroked absentmindedly at your jaw. “Such a sweet little thing you are… Now, tell me, YN, what couldn’t you think past?”

“You,” you offered lamely, “Mostly nights when I needed to relax. You’d cross my mind. I’d wonder how you felt. How’d you do things. Maybe you’d like to leave bruises only you’d ever know about…”

“There’s something special in knowing what others don’t,” Hannibal acknowledged, “I do enjoy my lovers wearing my marks, hidden from others view and only acknowledged by myself. As it should be, I’m certain you agree.”

You swallowed thickly at the implication of being marked as his solely. The idea of having normal conversations with him at the college with evidence of him knowing you well burned against your skin. Maybe you’d see if you could convince him into one particular fantasy Friday night had conjured. 

He rested his thumb against your bottom lip, bringing you back to him. “I’ve had thoughts of my own… I wonder… Have you ever wrapped a hand around your own neck?” Hannibal smirked at the way your lips parted in surprise as he felt the heat rise to your face, caught in a way you hadn’t expected. “Sweet girl, were you desperate for me?”

You went to lick your bottom lip out of habit, instead finding the pad of his thumb. “Yes, sir.”

“Darling,” he sighed out softly, almost disappointed, “we could have sorted you out this entire time, if you’d only ask politely. There would have been no need for you to imagine, creative as you might have been. You always put everyone’s needs before yours, but where does that leave you?” Hannibal his thumb pressed against your lips lightly, humming in satisfaction when you let him in, already so compliant. “All you have to do is ask. What would you have me do tonight?” A soft pop sounded in the room as he pulled his thumb back, smearing your spit onto your lips and chin. 

“Just tonight?” The words rolled out of your mouth thoughtlessly. 

A soft laugh. “Maybe more, if you behave.”

Hannibal threaded his hand into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. Leaning closer he took a deep breath, taking you in, before leaving a simple kiss against your neck. His warm breath fanned across your face as he kept you in anticipation. Finally he graced you with a feather light kiss, so quick you weren’t sure you even noticed. You didn’t have time to feel ashamed of the whine that had escaped when he started to move away. Following after him, you caught him in an urgent kiss, threading your own hands in his hair to make sure he’d stay close. Hannibal bit at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding in the second you gasped. You ignored the sting and slight coppery taste. 

Sure you had had your fair share of ventures. It was only natural to crave the attention for the night or a couple hours. However, Hannibal didn’t feel like any of your past partners. His kiss was unrelenting and passionate. Quickly he learned exactly how to kiss you to ensure you’d moan into his mouth. You weren’t sure how long had been spent like this. Lips on lips. Someone’s wandering hand trailing down the other’s body. The growing need. Every movement slowly became bolder. Hannibal took the time to pull you onto his thigh, closing the distance between you even more. He kissed along your neck until he found a spot that made you buck against him. 

“Please,” you sighed out, not really knowing exactly what you wanted, but having faith that he’d give you just what you needed. 

Hannibal leaned his forehead against yours, “Are you sure about this, darling?” 

It wasn’t time for contemplation though, everything was already set into motion. He had just asked out of politeness. His hands moved to your hips, he dragged you against himself in a way that clouded your mind. “You’re very convincing,” you said with a shuddered breath. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you matched his rhythm. At the moment everything in the world was him and you couldn’t find it in you to mind. 

“You came to me,” he pointed out. His hand tugged at your shirt and you allowed him to pull it off. Fingers raised goose bumps along your skin as he followed the fabric of your bra to unclasp the material.  

“Could you blame me?” You kissed the side of his jaw for the second time this night. The lipstick mark left behind wasn’t as embarrassing when you were half undressed on his lap. A blush blossomed in your chest as you watched his darken eyes take you in.

Hannibal kissed along your chest. His hand made its way into your pants, drawing slow circles on your clit. Your soft moan and jut of your hips urged him for more. Before you could ask, he thrusted two fingers inside of you, the pace changing every so often as he took in your reactions. You leaned your head against his shoulder as you grinded against his hand. Soft whimpers were muffled by the fabric of his shirt. 

“Come on sweet girl,” he used his free hand to pull you off of his shoulder by the hair, “you shouldn’t be hiding. Look at me when I’m touching you. Don’t you want to be my good toy?”

You nodded meekly, unable to make a smart comment when you saw a smirk settle on his lips as a too loud moan took its place. 

“That’s it, no one can hear you,” he teased as he worked at the spot harder, his thumb rubbed at your clit. “You seem very close, what if I…”

As he went to move his hand, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “No, no, no. Please, I’ll be good for you.”

He chuckled, but didn’t say a word as he brought his pace back up. Instead he chose to revel in your soft sounds and the way you had to focus to keep your eyes on him. Finally, he decided keeping you on the edge was enough and allowed you to cum on his fingers. 

“Clean up your mess,” he said as he thrusted his cum coated fingers into your mouth, “There you go, good girl.”

You watched him as you sucked his fingers clean. Bringing a hand down you palmed cock through his pants, fully intending on returning the favor. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“I’m afraid that status isn’t going to change anytime soon.” Hannibal kissed your pouted lip. “Don’t worry, I fully intend on taking care of you. Come, let’s make you more comfortable.”

As he stood, Hannibal offered you his hand to help you up. You followed him through the home to his bedroom, a place you didn’t think you’d end up but were more than pleased to see. Still you weren’t exactly taking in the sights when you were pulled into a rougher kiss as he led you toward his bed. A not too gentle push to your chest landed you on top of it. Leaning back on your elbows, you watched as Hannibal took his time undressing you fully. 

“You don’t play fair,” you complained, shifting yourself higher on the bed, away from him, “I like a pretty view too you know.”

He smiled, looking down at you fondly, “Very well, but only as a reward for earlier. I know you struggled.”

You smiled at that, shaking your head, “Come here won’t you?”

There wasn’t any time wasted when he settled on top of you, you didn’t have his patience. Your hands worked on his tie and buttons as his lips and teeth trailed across your chest. A subtle grind against your pussy had your thighs squeeze his waist. Pushing his shirt off, you felt down his chest, still surprised by how muscular he seemed to be underneath it all. You wondered if he’d stop you as you reached for his belt.

“That’s enough. I don’t think you’ve earned it just yet.”

An annoyed huff was all you could manage. 

“All in its time, darling.” A surprisingly gentle kiss was dropped on your cheek. “Can you manage waiting a while longer for me?”

You resisted the urge to nuzzle against him, unused to such soft displays from past partners. “Yes, sir...”

“Always such a sweet, polite thing.” 

Hannibal kissed and bit his way down your body, ensuring there would be evidence of him the next time you saw yourself in the mirror. He allowed you to thread your fingers in his hair, giving him a soft push down when he took too long marking you in one spot. It wasn’t much longer until Hannibal was level with your thighs, he pushed them further apart. A moment passed without anything before you remembered his rule. Willing yourself up you looked down at him, catching a wink before you were rewarded with a broad lick. Hannibal sucked your clit, pressing your hips down when you grinded against him. 

A helpless noise was the most you could do.

He bit your thigh, his fingers immediately making their way back inside of you, targeting the spot he had quickly learned turned you to putty. 

“You really are beautiful like this,” Hannibal acknowledged, “Completely at my mercy. Desperate for anything I’m willing to give you.”

There wasn’t any time to think up something to say as Hannibal’s mouth replaced his fingers, silencing any words that weren’t his breathy attempts of his name and pleas. Teeth grazed against your clit and a soft moan of his own was enough to pull you closer. 

“Please, daddy,” you begged, too far gone to be embarrassed by your slip, “I’m close…”

Hannibal was merciful, helping you finish as quickly as you had asked. Maybe at another time he would have teased and made you hold on longer but there was only so much patience he had. Especially when there was such an eager lover begging him. You watched him, dazed, as he came back up, his hand gripping at your jaw.

“Open.”

Doing as he wanted, you opened your mouth, instantly receiving a mix of the still lingering wine he had drank at dinner and you. He watched as you swallowed.

He let out an almost dreamy sigh. “So pliant.” 

Hannibal kissed you, finally allowing you to get your way as you pushed off the last clothes. You pumped him in your hand, working up the courage as you shook off the daze he had left you in. He was definitely the most talented partner you had had.

“We don’t have to go any further,” Hannibal reassured you, kissing the side of your mouth, “I’m perfectly sedated watching you.”

You shook your head immediately, not wanting him to think you were hesitant. “I want to, college guys aren’t so giving, just needed some time to clear my head.” As if to prove your point you gave him a squeeze, that made him thrust into your hand on instinct. “I just feel bad you’re doing all the work.”

“I prefer it,” he groaned quietly, as you thumbed at the slit. Hannibal rolled so that you could be on top of him, “But if you insist…”

A soft laugh. “That was hardly the fight I was expecting,” you muttered teasingly, kissing his jaw. 

“My patience is running thin.”

At that you straddled him, your hand lining him up with you. His hands held you steady as you sunk onto him. The both of you moaned softly when he was fully inside. Hannibal slowly grinded you against himself as you adjusted to his size. Hands against his chest, you started riding him in earnest. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praised you, his fingernails digging harder into your hips. 

“Yours,” you whimpered, too enthralled in the feel of him to pay any attention to the weight of what you were saying. His groans underneath you encouraged you more than anything. “All yours.”

Hannibal sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you firm against him. His soft kiss was a contrast to how roughly he was working himself into you. You couldn’t find it in you to care that he had taken control again. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him do as he pleased, just enjoying the way his hands and lips would travel across your body. Teasing, pinching, biting everywhere he could reach.  Your chest alone would be covered in marks left behind by Hannibal. That would be a problem for the future you to deal with at the moment you were too preoccupied with begging him for more. He’d slow his thrust whenever he felt you close to the end, chuckling lowly at the whining sounds you had made.

“Give daddy one more sweet girl. I know you can.”

You moaned loudly, giving Hannibal exactly what he wanted. When he wanted. Drained, you fell limp against his shoulder. Every small sound you made broadcast directly to him as he used you for all your worth. His arms tightened around you when you tried to pull away from the over stimulation. 

“Daddy’s close,” he promised, his accent thicker than usual, “I’ve taken such good care of my girl. Be good for me.”

Nodding, you dug your nails into his shoulders. You could be good. He had been so good to you after all. Still your vision blurred and it had taken a while longer for him to finally go still inside of you. 

Hannibal kissed the side of your head, before pulling you to lay down against him. His thumb wiped away the stray tear that had managed to fall. “You did so well for me. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You sighed sleepily, curling into his side more comfortably, “I’m alright. Just want you.”

“We’ll take care of you later,” he promised, seeing how tired you were, “You should rest, darling. I’ll be right here.” His hand rested on your hip, thumbing at forming bruise gently. Between the soft touch and his quiet humming, it didn’t take long for you to find sleep. 

NextChapter

[bigspoonstyles]

lesson learned

pairing: Harry x OC (unnamed)  challenge: @meetmeinfleetwood‘s to lovers fic challenge -> exes to lovers

warnings: the beginnings of maybe smut? 

In his near thirty years of life, Harry has admittedly fallen victim to many a fleeting lifestyle phase, and he’s decided the club scene is one he’s tired of. The music is loud, the drinks are weak, and even for a post pandemic world there are far too many people for his liking.

He’s sitting in what once was his usual booth in the corner of The Nice Guy and the ice in his tequila is melting quickly, the crystal tumbler too warm in his hands. Harry’s eyes fall to the far side of the makeshift dance floor once again and he willingly accepts that he could never tire of her.

He’s caught her eye only once but is more than happy to just watch, their last run-in awkward and stale and over a year ago. She’s been quiet the past year, having gone off the grid for most of quarantine citing in one of the few interviews she’d given, her choice to ‘live in the moment’.

And god, he’s missed her.

She, like Harry, would prefer to live without constant public scrutiny, but while they’ve both gone through great lengths to protect their privacy and relationships, he knows being sequestered has been hard on her. He recalls the last time she’d locked away with Harry in his LA home, accessible to only each other and the select few who were allowed through their phones’ Do Not Disturb feature, and his lips tip into a small smile. Their dishes littered his sink for days, her toothbrush leaned against his on his bathroom counter. There was a wet spot that adorned his right shoulder nearly every night after she’d fallen asleep mid-movie, freshly showered. But he knows the sore difference between waking up each morning wrapped around her with his face buried in her hair, and a yearlong forced isolation, very much alone.

He watches as she closes her eyes, arms above her head and face to the ceiling, laughing, dancing around the elite group with which she’d arrived. Judging by the way she moves carelessly through the crowds of people, he knows she’s feeling confident. She feels beautiful. She’s not worried that she’s laughing too loudly or taking up too much space, and he suddenly finds himself grateful for the few people who’ve kept her trust and privacy despite her climb to fame; even if they were the same friends he found quite insufferable to be around.

He downs the last of his drink before Jeff joins the table, phone in hand, answering his final email of the evening. “Ready to head out, man?” he calls out over the music. “Glenne’s home and I’m not inclined to keep her waiting too long.”

Harry grins knowing if he were in Jeff’s shoes, new bride waiting up into the early morning hours, he’d have already called the evening. But there’s no one waiting. So he shakes his head no and returns his gaze to the center floor; to his dismay, she’s gone.

Jeff follows his eye line and hides a smile. “She’s by the bar,” he points to the L shaped marbled counter top to their left.

Harry spots her right away, back to him, pulling her wavy locks into a mock ponytail and away from the back of her neck. Her friends lean in for hugs goodbye and she’s left alone waiting for the bartender to return with a drink – a fruit infused vodka soda no doubt. “I think I’m saying fo’ a bit,” he answers without breaking gaze. “Can call a car.”

Jeff returns attention to his phone, forwarding Harry the number of a newly contracted car service. “Ted’s on call tonight. Just call when you’re ready. They’re all vetted and they’ve signed the privacy agreements.”

Harry throws a quick final glance to the table and booth and makes his way to the bar with his empty glass.

He arrives just as the bartender slides her drink across the counter, adorned with a skewer of colorful fruit and a fuchsia blossom garnish. She accepts with a smile and her eyes close in appreciation as she sips from the side of the glass. Harry bites the inside of his cheek to stop from remarking when the bartender lingers longer than he deems acceptable. With a palm to the warm, exposed skin of her lower back, he gets his point across and the man disappears to the back with an armful of nearly empty liquor bottles.

She turns slowly and tilts her head as she faces him, clearly unsurprised by the hand lingering at her side or the man attached to it. “Hey,” she offers quietly with a half-smile. “Wondered how long it’d take you.”

Her cheeks are tinged pink and expression glassy, and he pulls out a chair gesturing for her to sit. She has rarely over-indulged in alcohol publicly for obvious reasons, but he’s always found it endearing when she’s had just one too many. He liked her happy and carefree. And honest.

“Left alone, eh?” his head bobs toward the front entrance.

“Yeah,” she sighs, sagging slightly into the seat. “They’re headed downtown,” her thumb juts toward the Fairfax District, “and I’m staying down by the Marina.” She pulls the dark petals from her garnish distractedly. “Headed back to New York tomorrow. It’s just easier.”

“’t’s a good half hour ride,” Harry glances at his watch. “Leaving soon? Someone comin’ for yeh?”  

She smiles into her drink at his concern. He’s genuine, and she gazes up fondly, finding his brows knit together awaiting an answer. “I’ll call a car in a few. Don’t worry about me, H.” She straightens and smooths out the creases in her cotton dress. “I’m sure I can get myself back to the apartment just fine.”

“But can you get up the stairs?” he asks, only half-jokingly. His arms reach easily out to steady her as she loses footing, his left hand returning to the small of her back, his right gently cupped under her elbow. He clears his throat to conceal his smile when she gazes up at him sheepishly. “What time is your flight?”

“Two, I think.” Her answer lacks conviction, eyes narrow in concentration. “Either two or two-thirty.”

“Could come home with me,” he shrugs. “Only a few minutes from here, ‘nd could get yeh back with plenty of time to catch your flight.” He ushers her closer as patrons abandon their stools and head for the exit. When he gazes down at her, she’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Come on,” he urges, hands coming up quickly to her eye level, fingers outstretched to show a hands-off approach. “Can take the couch if you want.”

She laughs airily, smacking his chest with the back of her hand. “An empty offer from a man with two guest suites.” She finds it harder to keep balance in her heeled shoes and uses Harry’s left arm to steady herself. “If you could just get me into a car, I’ll be ok.”

Harry’s lips turn into a thin line, and he shakes his head in refusal. “Not shovin’ yeh in a car alone. ‘t’s up to you – my place or yours?”

She looks up at him through heavy lids and a slightly fuzzier mind than when she had embarked on this conversation. A part of her is instantly relieved by his straightened back and hardened features. He’s always been on the right side of overprotective and she knows she’s nothing but safe with him.

But there’s an innate fear that causes her chest to tighten and her eyes dart towards the door. “They can’t see, H,” she whispers, unease seeping through her tone.

He knows that the idea of walking with him through the throng of paparazzi just outside the entrance is enough to cause a breakdown and, even without seeing the panic set in her eyes, he’s already fishing his phone out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “’ll take care of it, pet,” he says slowly.

And she believes him.

Harry slips her through a rarely used back door, his jacket stripped from his back and used to shield her from prying eyes, just in case. He holds the back door of the black SUV open and guides her into the plush seat, relaxing only once fully shielded by the black tinted windows.

She tucks herself into his side, head lolled against his shoulder; his right arm stretches out behind her, hand gripping her would-he head rest. She accepts the water bottle he pushes on her but forgoes drinking from it, afraid the inevitable spill would give away how dizzy she truly feels.

Harry helps their driver navigate the back streets to ensure the fastest way to his place, silently checking on the girl curled into him, knees knocking with each pothole and turn.

“Look pretty tonight,” he murmurs in her direction. “Always liked this dress.” He musses the soft fabric of her skirt between his fingers. His right arm abandons the back seat to fall against her shoulders, pulling her in just close enough that he can smell her. He welcomes the scent, inhaling deeply, but it’s an unsolicited reminder that it’s been long washed from his sheets, and his life, for well over a year.

“I know,” she smiles, eyes still closed. “Took a shot.”

His chest vibrates with deep laughter, “Minx,” he accuses playfully. “Not quite playing fair, eh?”

She can feel his eyes on her, but she’s far too tired to even think about moving. “I’m sorry, H,” she whispers. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. Said we’d call.”

“Both did,” he answers gruffly. “Phone works both ways.”

She smiles dreamily. “I never said congratulations. The Grammys?” She wraps her arm around his waist and nuzzles in a bit closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m so proud of you.”

His cheek rest atop her head, “I know.”

“If I’d called,” she asks into his chest, “would you have answered?”

His mouth falls open in shock. “Hey,” he tilts her head up to meet his gaze. “Of course I’d answer.”

He’s staring down at her in disbelief, and she feels so small, nerves getting the best of her; she’s afraid she’s started a conversation she’s not ready to have. At least - not in the backseat of a foreign SUV, plastered against him, her palms burning to feel his skin through his thin button down.

His lips are slightly parted into a pout and he looks determined to get something out of her, but she chooses instead to let her eyes fall to the two black swallows that peek out from behind his collar. “You can’t kiss me,” she says tiredly. Her head lolls back against him silently cursing herself.

She’s a coward.  

“Never said I wanted to, love.” His attention turns to the streetlights through the light-blocked window. His grip on her however, doesn’t falter.

“I wanted you to,” she sighs softly, her face burying back into his side.

But it’s just loud enough to make him feel like a proper dick.

___________________

She wakes up warm, the sun seeping through the thick open slats of the faux wood blinds, and in soft sheets that glide across her bare skin like silk. Her head doesn’t throb as she’d expected, but she imagines it’s because of the aspirin and nearly empty bottle of water she finds on the bedside table. No doubt Harry had coaxed her to take pre-emptive measures before putting her to bed. She can almost hear him softly begging, “For me?”

She takes in the room, her dress neatly hung on the back of the bedroom door, and takes stock of her current state. She’s dressed in a pair of her old boxer shorts, and a long-sleeved henley, both of which she recognizes as garb she’s long ago stolen from Harry. She smiles to herself as she picks at the small wear holes scattered around the checkered flannel fabric; she’d worn these boxers almost nightly for months.

After a full body stretch and check of the time, she begrudgingly abandons the sheets in search of her phone and hopefully a much-needed shower. She finds her phone charging on Harry’s bureau propped up against the small crystal dish that holds his most commonly worn rings. There are too many notifications on her lock screen to worry about, but the most recent one is a text from Harry.

Don’t leave. Getting coffee. Be back soon.

-          H

She rolls her eyes at his automatic signature, as if anyone he’s texting doesn’t have him programmed in their phone; she leaves the myriad of other messages unread. Her flight doesn’t board for hours, so she justifies taking advantage of Harry’s water pressure would be time well spent.

There’s a small pile of folded clothes on the bathroom sink counter, the shirt Harry’s, but the shorts hers. Clean towels are hung by the shower head.

His shower is as amazing as she remembers, the hot water beating out kinks in her neck that she swears have been there for months. His facewash and hair products are readily available for use at the corner of the tub basin and she revels in the smell. Everything he owns is luxurious, down to the lather of his shampoo. She had always been grateful that when her time was split between the east and west coasts she’d never worried about traveling with self-care products.

In truth, she’d never felt more cared for than when she was with Harry.

She hears the front door close and the faint beep of the perimeter alarm arm from the en suite, so she dries off and dresses quickly, joining him in the kitchen still squeezing her hair dry with a fluffy white towel. When she sees him dressed casually, bustling barefoot around the kitchen island with iced coffee and a to-go bag with what she assumes carries breakfast options, her breath hitches. His hair is still damp from a shower and a stubborn curl is threatening to spill into his face.

“Thank you,” she says reading the printed tag on her cup; the milk and sweetener options are right down to a t. She tosses her wet towel on the back of a tall kitchen chair, opting to hoist herself onto the bare counter space to the right of the sink, blessed coffee in hand.  

“Sleep ok?”, he asks, moving to wash his hands.

“Very,” she sighs, arching her back in search of that desired pop to relieve her lower back tension. “Miss that bed.” Her eyes widen the second the words leave her mouth, and she nearly chokes. “Sorry,” she mumbles, completely flush with embarrassment.

Harry shrugs it off with a chuckle, “It’s a good bed. Cost a small fortune.”

“Is that breakfast?” she asks, desperate for a subject change. “I’m starving. I completely skipped dinner,” she admits.

“It is,” he confirms. “Guess that explains a bit about last night then?”

“Too much pregaming and not enough carbs,” she groans. Her eyes follow his hands as he dries them on a white dish towel, paying close attention to the rings adorning his fingers. “Will I ever learn?” she feigns exasperation.

“And who’s gonna drag you home from your late nights back in New York, hmm?”

She breaks her gaze to roll her eyes, “I’ll be fine, H.” She takes to absently chewing her straw as he rests a hip against the counter to her left. “Been on my own for bit.”

He sees her face fall at the mention of her sole failed relationship since Harry. “I heard,” he discloses. “’M sorry. What happened?”

Her eyes narrow and she tries scrutinizing his motives, but she knows he’s never been insincere. “Didn’t want the same things, I guess,” she shrugs. “You know, marriage, kids. Important things.”

Harry’s jaw clenches, bitter, knowing he’d quite literally run to the altar if she’d let him. “He’s an idiot. He’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Her eyes fly up to his, mouth slightly open. “Wait no,” she denies. “Not him. Me – I didn’t want,” she pauses in search for the right words, but fails on an awkward huff. “I didn’t want those things.”

“Since when?” he challenges. “I distinctly remember agreeing to a ‘no bolo tie’ rule not that long ago.” He’s teasing, but she’s white knuckling the counter’s edge and completely ready to run. He moves to block her exit, unwilling to let her take an easy out, stance wide and demanding.

His head dips low enough to catch her eye and she looks defeated. “With him, I guess,” she whispers. “Didn’t want those things with him.”

Harry exhales loudly, but when she peers up at him his face is soft and searching. “What’s the plan in New York? Back to work?”

“No plans,” she concedes. Her legs uncross, a once silent invitation for Harry to join her, and she adjusts herself to sit straighter. Taller. “I’ve got a dinner planned next Wednesday with management. Just in time to get reamed for whatever pictures surface from last night, I’m sure.”

“No paps,” Harry shakes his head with confidence. “Called Jeff. Made sure there’s nothing comin’ down the line. ‘S all good.”

She stares at him with admiration, overwhelmed by the gesture. She slowly extends her hands, palms up, in a token of appreciation. He eagerly accepts, taking a single stride into her cautious embrace; she’d always fallen short with verbal expression, but Harry had never been one to deny her physical touch. “Thank you,” she smiles softly, her hands slowly inching up the tanned skin of his forearms, her glossy, pale nails stopping just short of his tattoos. “I think I should get going, though,” she stammers. “Still have to pack up my stuff, and my stuff is everywhere.” She nervously runs her fingers through her damp locks and clicks her tongue as she works out a knot. “I’ll take a bagel for the road though,” she winks.

“Could stay,” he offers lowly. Harry watches as her breathing goes shallow and he tenses. If she denies him now, it just might kill him. “Said you hadn’t any real plans, so, could stay…if you wanted.”

She’s acutely aware that his face is inching closer to hers, and she blinks slowly as his hands grip the counter on either side of her, taking the final step between her parted knees. “You want me to stay?” she asks quietly.

“Not really a fair question,” he counters. “Didn’t exactly want you to leave in the first place, now did I?”

She lets her gaze follow her hands to his chest with a sigh. “That’s not fair, H,” she argues gently. “It wasn’t working. It was too much.”

“Could be different now. Could be better.”

“You think?” she questions, her bottom lip tucked behind her front teeth. “How?”

“Been talking to Cass, have loads of ideas,” he beams proudly. His therapist had been his saving grace during the pandemic; he’d mostly done phone meetings with her, but they’d had a limited number of in person meets.

“You still talk to Cassie?”

“Not as much since things have gone back to normal, but I make time to call her a few times a month.” Harry had always been open about his self-help regimens, therapy included. “Like that wet towel on my chair,” he shrugs his shoulders coolly, “no big deal. Leave it there. See if I care.”

“Oh yeah? You like that?” she laughs as he nods excitedly. “If you like that, you should go look at the bed I didn’t make.” She throws her head back in laughter, wincing only slightly when it collides with the wooden cabinet door behind her.

Harry’s hand flies up to soothe the sting at her crown, callused fingers massaging away any hurt. “Could stay,” he repeats, fingers slowing. His other hand tucks the stray hair behind her ear and his fingers linger on the delicate skin above her collarbone. “Could stay with me.”

Every part of her is waiting to be kissed, her eyes closing slowly, and Harry drops his mouth to hers with the lightest of kisses. She accepts with a smile, making no moves to deepen it, but her hands reach up to clasp together at the nape of his neck, fingers playing with the baby curls he’s been growing out for months. He drops a final light peck to the corner of her mouth before slowly moving downwards, her head falling back further into his hand allowing him ample access to kiss the soft skin on the column of her throat.

She mewls and it encourages him further, and he finds the soft spot below her ear where he can feel her pulse quicken against his lips. “Shut up,” she gasps when he smiles against her, his day old stubble the dead giveaway.

When he kisses her again, she lets him into her mouth on a hum, but Harry pulls away suddenly with a quirked brow and a cheeky grin. “Did you use my toothbrush?”

She opens her mouth to counter, but just buries her face in her hands in embarrassment. “My teeth were filmy!” she whines.

He’s laughing wholeheartedly at her, utterly happy at her perceived level of comfort in his home. “What’s mine is yours, love,” he pulls at her hands to expose her and reattach his lips to her. He moves to pull her closer to the counter’s edge and bring her body flush with his before his hands travel to the exposed skin of her thighs.

“Keep going,” she pleads breathily.

Harry groans as he pushes the loose fabric of her shorts aside and finds the warmth awaiting his fingers. “Always good for me,” he breathes out, head falling to her shoulder. “Too good for me.”

“Please.” She bucks closer to him, her body aching for release.

“So you’ll stay,” he decides. He’s leaving open mouthed, wet kisses down her throat in between words, his fingers slick with her, curling easily into her core in the way he knows drives her crazy. “You’ll stay. Can take your drawer back if you like,” he bargains. “If you’re nice t’ me, might even get you your own toothbrush.”

Her hands tighten and grab at his curls as he continues his assault on her surely bruising skin. “If you didn’t have two fingers inside of me right now,” she stutters, “I’d kick you in the shins.” Her words are void of any real threat and he can feel her fighting for control, her legs tightening around his hips, breath ragged in his ear.

Harry withdraws his touch, smiling when she complains at the loss of contact. He straightens her shorts and extends a hand to help her off down from her perch. “Time to learn how to make a proper bed, pet.”

She jumps down on a huff and walks straight by him down the hall leaving Harry’s mouth agape. “I think,” she muses playfully, “we should start right at the very beginning, right? Gotta strip the sheets off and start from scratch?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” he follows like a puppy at her heels. “Whatever you say.”

__________________

A/N: welcome to my initial venture in writing for this fandom. I haven’t written fiction in literal years, so this one was a feat. But I had fun, so thank you Sadie for the challenge! I made the deadline with literal seconds to spare. :)

-MK

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.8)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Eight) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 2,487 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior, drug use Author’s Note:  **More mentions of Tony doing cocaine and with RDJ’s past, that may be offensive to some! Head’s up! You have been warned**

Part Seven || Part Nine || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Three months ago (cont.)…

Tony was fidgeting in the seat next to you and you stayed silent, knowing he was riled up and giving him any type of poke was going to set him off again. Granted, you really did not have to do anything yourself to set him off; he was good enough at doing that himself.

His gaze fell on you beside him and he gestured fiercely at Mikhail driving in the front seat. “See? This is how you get faded and take a joy ride! Speaking of which.”

He pulled a baggy out of his pocket and muttered under his breath angrily. “So fucking stupid, Y/N.” He took a pinch out of the bag. “Don’t be a fucking idiot. Don’t get your rocks off and then fucking…” he inhaled the small bump and leaned back, stuffing the closed baggy back in his pocket. It took a few minutes for him to say, “Fucking take a car that I paid for. And then try to kill yourself!”

Angrily, you responded, “I didn’t try to kill myself! I was going to my friend’s! I just wanted to be away from you being a dick for a while!”

Tony pinned you up against the seat, his fingers digging in. “You are reckless! You drive me fucking insane sometimes! You are going to be on a very short leash, you understand me? And me being a dick? Because I told you no? You know, I am right telling you that! You can’t even conduct yourself well at home under supervision. What would you do if I wasn’t there to watch out for you? Huh?”

You tried to look away from him and his hand left your chest and came up to force you to look back at him. “You better count yourself lucky that there are people over cause that means I’m not gonna spank you just yet. When we get back, you’re going to walk that ass of yours out to the pool and sit right where I can see you. You got me?” You took more than a few seconds to answer, and he demanded again, “I said you got me?”

“Yes,” you forced out.

He let you go roughly and sat back against his seat, still glaring daggers through you. You turned your eyes away and you still felt him staring at you for a few moments before he shifted, and you saw out of the corner of your eye that he had pulled his phone out. Tony busied himself on his phone the rest of the way home and you sat with your arms crossed, staring out the window.

“Pull up out front, we’ll get out there and then you can go down into the garage,” Tony told Mikhail as he pulled into the driveway.

When you got out of the car out front of the house, Tony was at your side, holding on tight. Like he did not expect you to follow what he had ordered you to do. The music was still playing outside, and you heard chatter; the party was still going in the two of your absence.

Coming through the living room, the two of you met Happy coming back from what you assumed was the bathroom.

Happy looked relieved to see you. “Oh, so you found her.”

“Unfortunately,” you snapped at him, yanking your arm away from Tony, just wanting to walk on your own.

He was quick though and grabbed you back, turning and pushing you up against the wall, holding you in place with a hand on your chest, his other finger pointing in your face.

“You are being a fucking brat! Cut the shit! Shape the hell up. I won’t have you embarrassing me out there! I know you can act better!”

Tony let you go and gestured for you to walk on. You sucked your teeth and went forward, shooting a look at Happy who was watching you closely. He looked as unimpressed as Tony was. Tony was at your back as you walked outside, and you went straight for the alcohol.

“Yeah, good idea. More alcohol. But you know, maybe it’ll chill you the hell out,” he said quietly, annoyed to you. He took the bottle from you and poured the shots for you. Picking it up, he shoved one into your hand and took the other for himself. Clinking your shot glasses, he downed it, you following his lead.

His hand snaked around your hips and he gave you a push to start walking. You did not miss some of his men at the table watching the pair of you approach. He gave you a forceful shove to sit in one of the chairs at the poker table and you fell back into it. Hands gripping the arms, you did your best to not clench your jaw as he sat down next to you. Tony knew you would be embarrassed to be out here – no doubt everyone knowing something had to have happened if Tony and you both left, even if they were not privy to the details – and that was the form of punishment he was choosing for now. Everyone knowing that you had done something to piss him off and now you were being forced to sit there and be obedient.

<><><>

Later that same night…

“I still can’t believe she pulled that shit,” Tony spat, rubbing at his mouth furiously.

Him, Mikhail, and Happy were sitting around the fire pit. The party had long since died down and it was just the three of them outside in the dark, still having some drinks. Tony had sent Y/N upstairs an hour ago and told her if she opened the bedroom door, F.R.I.D.A.Y. would notify him.

“She’s got a wild streak,” Happy commented, taking a long inhale off his cigar.

“Something I’m simultaneously attracted to and also wanna smack her a good one over,” Tony muttered. He shook his head and sighed, “Fucking scared the shit out of me. The thought of losing her. Especially like that.”

“Get her pregnant. Lock her down,” Mikhail said simply. Happy and Tony stared at him and Mikhail rose an eyebrow. “What? She’ll have to be more cautious and then you don’t have to be worried about her going anywhere. I mean, another tie to you too.”

“C’mon. Tony with a kid?” Happy laughed and then noticed Tony was not sharing in on the laugh. His laugh subsided slowly, smile shrinking. He stared at Tony in disbelief, who was lost in thought. “What? Boss, really?”

Tony shrugged and took a drink. “We’ve been together for almost two years.”

“Tony, you had to go retrieve her after she went drunk driving today,” Happy said slowly.

“She’s not usually that rash. Isolated incident.”

Happy threw his hands out weakly, throwing a desperate look at Mikhail for help. Mikhail shrugged and Happy sighed sharply. He straightened up in his chair, “So if she’s not usually that rash, why the talk of a kid? Look, has this ever come up in conversation? Does she even want a kid? I mean, not to be completely rude, but do we think we can trust her to raise one?”

“I want a kid. At least one,” Tony said at the same time that Mikahil spoke.

“She won’t have to raise it by herself. That’s what nannies are for. Give the parents a break,” Mikhail chimed in and Happy set his jaw, looking like he wanted to sock him.

Tony nodded slowly, taking that in.

Mikhail continued, “Women think they don’t want it but if you get them pregnant, the hormones just take over. And they’re immediately momma bear.”

“I don’t think that’s exactly how it works,” Tony said cocking his head, giving Mikhail an odd look. “But I get your overall point. Just… give her some responsibility. Focus on her projects and a baby. Refocus her energy.”

Happy could see the wheels turning and he knew that when Tony set his mind to something, there was very little that could dissuade him from that path.

“Well, she’s already not on birth control,” Tony said, taking another drink.

“Are you joking?” Happy asked.

“She got the IUD taken out a couple months ago. Just been using condoms… most of the time,” Tony replied, smacking his lips. “She didn’t want to get another one. An IUD. Talked about pills. But never followed up on it…”

Happy blew a raspberry and shrugged, “Well… that’s fortuitous I suppose.”

“Yeah… seems like it,” Tony said, staring off into nothing.

<><><>

“So, I overheard something…” Happy said, trailing off.

“What?” Tony questioned, leaning back in his chair.

“I think you and the missus need to have a little chat. Just to nip something in the bud,” Happy said, tapping his fingers on the desk.

Tony had just hung up with a business partner and Happy was sitting across the desk from him. The meeting had been relatively short, about twenty minutes. Happy did not waste time to bring the conversation he had overheard between Pepper and Y/N to Tony. Especially since the meeting had gone well, he would be in a better mood to hear it.

“I only caught the end of the conversation but sounded like she’s trying to figure out how to… get rid of the baby.”

Tony was silent, staring across the desk at Happy. His expression was unreadable. When he did speak though, it was not a secret he was pissed.

“Who the hellwas she talking to?”

Happy sucked his teeth and admitted, “Pepper.”

“Pepper?”

“Yes.”

Leaning forward quickly, Tony slammed his finger on the call button for her office. “Pepper!” Tony barked into the intercom on his phone.

“Yes?”

“Can you come to my office for a second.” It was not a question. It took her a few since her office was down the hall but Pepper walked into the office, standing by the door, and Tony gestured at her saying, “Closed.” She closed the door behind her and turned back to him, looking curious.

“You got anything to tell me?” Tony asked. She stared at him dumbly, shooting a look at Happy. He was returning a blank stare. Tony gestured impatiently. “Here, I’ll help. About my wife.”

Pepper shot Happy another look and he was returning a hard stare now. She surmised that he knew that Y/N had talked to her – had overheard it – and she had no opportunity to lie here.

She shrugged, “About her talking to me?”

“Mhmm,” Tony nodded, his gaze burning into her.

“She wanted me to talk to you. She thinks you’d listen to me.”

“About?”

“Not having a baby,” Pepper said plainly. Tony’s mouth fell open in anger hearing it confirmed and she said quickly, “I don’t know why she thinks you would listen to me. But I told her that’s a conversation she should be having with you, not me.”

It took Tony a few moments to gather himself before he spat, “Does she have a plan?”

“Not that I know.”

“What else did she say?” Pepper bit her bottom lip, silent. Tony demanded, “What else did she say, Pepper?”

Shrugging, Pepper treaded carefully, “She’s worried you’re gonna divorce her after ‘her body gets completely destroyed’ and then she’s ‘just gonna be stuck with a baby that she has no idea what to do with’.” She noticed the baffled looks on both Tony and Happy’s faces and sighed. “I’m assuming you didn’t hear the entire conversation,” Pepper directed at Happy. His expression said everything, and she sighed heavily again, looking back at Tony. “She is extremely insecure Tony. I don’t get it. It’s actually a little alarming. Do you get off on that?”

“No, Pepper, I don’t ‘get off’ on that,” Tony said tightly, looking offended.

Pepper closed her mouth, recognizing the anger on his face. After a few moments, she stated, “She’s scared, Tony.”

Tony was silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, pique still evident in his expression. He cleared his throat, shrugging, “Sounds like it. Anyway, I wish you would have brought this to me unprompted.”

“Tony, that conversation just happened like a half hour ago,” Pepper told him slowly.

“And you didn’t come to me immediately?”

Unamused, Pepper said, “No. I figured if she was serious she would talk to you like I told her she should. And she told me she was going to. She hasn’t had much opportunity to do so though since then and now.”

Tony snorted, “Y/N is not one for mature conversations most of the time anyway. She’s got a flair for the dramatics and gets in these moods, has outbursts. Trust me. She’s a goddamn handful. I mean, you know! The running off and starting fights.” Pepper was staring at him incredulously and he noticed. He rose a brow in return, “What?”

“Nothing,” she said flatly.

“Hmm. Well..” he exhaled deeply, smacking his lips. “Looks like I’ll just have to have a chat. Thank you for being honest, Pepper. Even if it was forced. You’re a doll.”

“Yeah.”

She turned away from him and began walking towards the door. Pepper stopped her stride and exhaled sharply before turning back around to face Tony. “You know, Tony, maybe it would serve you well to listen to her.” Tony stared at her reproachfully in return and she added forcibly, “Seriously. She sounded worried.”

“You don’t think I listen to her? What do you think I do every day, Pepper? I might miss some things admittedly because it’s very hard to keep up with her. Sometimes it changes every hour. The only things she seems to be sure on are: cuddling with me whenever possible and her charity work.”

Pepper ended with, “Well, I don’t think her ‘outbursts’ come from nowhere.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out.

Tony’s gaze slid to Happy, the two of them locking eyes, put off by her attitude.

“What… the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know, boss,” Happy admitted.

“Fucking women…” Tony trailed off, looking lost in thought. He then asked curiously, leaning forward towards Happy, “Do you think I don’t listen?” Happy gave him a knowing look and Tony snorted, waving it off. “That’s what I thought. If anything, it’s Y/N that doesn’t listen to me. Well, I am not having any more unpleasant conversations on an empty stomach.” He leaned back across his desk towards his phone again. Clicking the button to his secretary, he said, “Angelica, tell Y/N I’ll be out in a second to go to lunch.”

“She’s not out here, Mr. Stark. But—”

“What?” Tony demanded.

“She’s not—”

“I caught that,” Tony interrupted irritated.

“But I can page downstairs. She went down there with Mr. Rogers.”

“Why the fuck is Star Spangled here?” Tony grated, shoving himself away from his desk. “And why is he taking her all over the building?”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21, @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @kvzctam @farihafangirls, @teenageregression @mrsnegan25 @lilacs-lavender @agustdowney @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @emmariexx

[aftgficlibrary]

Are there any AUs where renison or lailalverez is the main pairing?

there are quite a few but here you go -maz

renison:

Before All I Heard Was Silence by moonqueerdom (T | 7,430 | 1/1)

Allison's eyes widened and her face burned immediately, spreading to her neck and the tips of her ears. "Oh my gosh, Renee," she lowered her face and covered it with her hands.

Renee chuckled. "She is beautiful when she blushes, ok noted."

"Oh my gosh, Walker, stop that," Allison's voice was too wobbly and high-pitched even for her own ears, and there was a grin threatening to pop on her lips.

~

About to disappear in the afterlife, Allison Reynolds meets Renee Walker, who was ready to change her life even after death.

Last Café by uberimmortal (M | 4,802 | 1/1)

Like every weekend for the past year, Renee finds herself on a Saturday morning in front of the Last Cafe. She takes a deep breath, key still in her hand, shivering from the autumn breeze as she tries to muster up some energy to open the door. The sun is just beginning to poke over the horizon, lighting up the city in a blue haze, not close enough to this side of the earth to provide any real warmth. One by one street lamps flicker until they turn off completely.

The Gracekeepers by wishbonetea (M | 112,116 | 20/20)

The sea has flooded the earth. Allison lives on a circus boat, floating between the scattered islands that remain and trading dazzling and death-defying feats for food from the islanders. Renee lives alone in a lighthouse in the middle of the ocean, with only the birds and fish for company. As penance for her past, she works as a gracekeeper, tending the graves of those who die at sea. A storm brings them together, but under clear skies they must part. When one of the Foxes goes missing, Renee joins to help. It’s meant to be a temporary escape, but Allison might be a reason to stay.

⁂

An AU of Kirsty Logan's The Gracekeepers.

she's got lips like wine not sugar by IzzyAguecheek (Not Rated | 8,561 | 1/1)

The coffee shop was mostly empty the first time Allison came in. It was too early for most people, specially on a Sunday, when most people didn’t have work and therefore didn’t need to stop by to grab a coffee to wake up. Allison, however, didn’t strike Renee as the type of girl to drink coffee before a shift at some boring company. She looked more like someone who had stayed up all night and now was trying to fight off a hangover with caffeine.

Dan was late, per usual, so Renee and Andrew were the only employees working. Andrew took one look at the car parked outside, right in front of the window, and firmly turned his back on the girl sitting at the corner booth.

“You take that one”, he decided.

(or: Renee works at a coffee shop, and, when Allison becomes a regular there, she is absolutely in love. It's just a Renison Coffee Shop AU.)

counting my blessings by quensty (T | 10,354 | 1/1)

The last letter is from Wymack.

Allison, it says. Forest Falls, California, has been having problems with a robber. Dan and Matt are too far, and Neil and Andrew are already working a job in Nevada. Get on it. -DW

“Motherfucker,” Allison says.

Real Gravity by loose_canon (T | 1,723 | 1/1)

RECORDED 04:08, PILGRIMAGE YEAR 1584 DAY 29

[begin message]

Hey, Mom. You’re probably watching this and thinking about how much you want to kick my ass right now. Well, my butt, because you don’t say words like “ass,” much less think them. Anyway, I know you’re mad at me. I’m the ungrateful daughter who hijacked an emergency pod and zipped off into space in the middle of the eclipse service like a dumbass—sorry, dumbbutt—with another girl because I just had to go and open myself to the spirit of lesbianism. I’m not gonna lie, I’m mad just like you are. Part of me wants to just say that the spirit is a good fucking time and be on my way. But I need you need to know that I’m losing something, too.

A sci-fi one shot: Allison leaves a final message for her mother after she and Renee escape the generation ship they grew up on.

On Dragon's Wings (Under the Blue) by tinystreetlamp  (T | 8,417 | 3/3)

For hundreds of years the six kingdoms coexisted in peace due to a magical contract that prevents violence between them. Ever since Allison's brother Jean was kidnapped by Riko she has wanted to lead her armies to war against the Island of Night, but the contract prevents her from doing so. When crown prince Nathaniel arrives and asks for sanctuary, Allison sees her chance to unite four of the kingdoms against Riko and rain down her vengeance upon him.

(How to seduce a pirate: drag her underwater unexpectedly)

/Graphic Depictions of Violence

vengeance and death by cthulu_sun (M | 2,446 | 1/1)

legend says you have wax-dipped wings and golden fingernails and knives made of the blood you have spilled. legend says you are not merciful.

-

in which renee is a tired guardian angel, finds the foxes, and falls in love.

a hundred jewels on throats by ghvsts (T | 3,226 | 1/1)

"have you seen the goddess from the seafoam," they whisper, "she is more beautiful than anything."

(in which seth is ares, renee is persephone, and allison has had enough)

fabrication of a grand scheme by cloudghost (T | 13,787 | 1/1)

Renee was silent for a while. Then, finally, she said, “I want to try going outside.”

“I thought you were scared.”

She hummed her assent. “That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it.”

Since that was basically the philosophy Allison lived by, she nodded. Renee turned back around and met Allison’s gaze. In that moment, Renee looked unbreakable and unshakeable, like nothing that ended up in her way could ever stop her for long. Allison shivered.

Love You a Latte by ceilingfan5 (G | 8,465 | 1/1)

Allison's favorite barista is adorable Renee, so when she gets the news that she has to go on a terrible family vacation and bring an "appropriate plus-one", she decides to finally get herself uninvited from the rest of those events for all eternity. She and Renee go together, pretending to be a very much in love couple, stir shit up, and leave a lot closer than they ever expected. (Obviously they fall in love.) Allison may say "I decided love was fake a long time ago and it’d take a miracle to change my mind now,” but if anyone can be a miracle worker, it's Renee.

say you'll never harden to the world by orphan_account (T | 10,300 | 1/1)

Of course it’s when the knife finally doesn’t feel awkward in her hand anymore that Allison shows up.

Instead of the relaxed way she usually holds her wings, they’re pulled taut behind her back. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest and there’s a decidedly not pleased look on her face.

“Hey,” Natalie says, not interrupting the sequence of stabbing moves she’s been practicing. She has no time for the way seeing Allison makes her feel.

Safe – a joke. Not alone – Allison might not even be real. Cared about – impossible.

Those kinds of emotions aren’t meant for someone like her in the first place, and she’s not going to indulge them.

give me shelter or show me heart by hondayota (Not Rated | 4,720 | 3/3)

Renee had always thought of hope as a feeling, something she scraped out of her insides when she had nothing else to hold onto, but over the past months, hope had ceased to be a feeling and had become synonymous with Allison Reynolds.

or

the renison zombie au no one asked for

or

renee and allison are hella gay even when there's zombies

laila/alvarez:

It's Called Fashion Hunty. Look it up. by theKristastrophe (T | 15,440 | 8/8)

Sara works for a company that she doesn't hate but doesn't love either. So she sits at the bar with her two other best friends and tries to get through the work week.

When a fresh lawyer stumbles into thier weekly Rant Club, Sara knows she's in for a wild ride.

Featuring gratious eyerolling, snark, and everyone's favorite Foxes.

Buckle up kiddies. It's time to Sashay, Sashay, Sashay...

Come Close by tinystreetlamp (T | 10,932 | 1/1)

Sometime around 200 BC in Ancient Greece, in a world where the greek gods are real, Laila is a warrior from Sparta. During her first visit to Athens she meets not only Jeremy of Troy but also falls head over heels in love with Sara, a daughter of Apollo and local poet. But Sara is cursed, and soon the three cross the Mediterranean on a quest to break the curse and save Sara.

Sara means Sun by tinystreetlamp (M | 27,739 | 8/8)

Five years ago, ships with black and red sails appeared on the horizon and wiped out all of the royal family - except one. The Raven King conquered Coralia and is doing everything he can to stay in power. Jeremy of Troia, the rightful heir to his kingdom, has been in hiding for the past five years, but he found something worth fighting for.

Laila, an Elven Warrior and Jeremy's best friend, will do anything to protect him. Meeting a cute stranger isn't going to change that.

/Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death

[generallybrontidefeelings]

News for you

A/N: OKAY, gave myself a break to write this lil thing because I needed some fluff from the angst pit I dug myself into. Written for @221bshrlocked #maggies17 writing challenge! Thank you for the prompt, madam, I had fun with this :) also any mistakes belong to me!

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader, Javier Peña x you

Summery: Javi and Steve recruit you, a humble photographer, for a hop, skip, and a jump of a mission. It goes sideways. 

Prompt: 66 “I’ve decided to write a how-to manual and you’re going to be the ‘what not to do’ example.”

Warnings: unbeta’d. T rating, a swear word? Tension, adrenaline! fluff, hiding in the trunk of a car? Protective DEA agents. A smooch! A very self-indulgent comfort fic

Words: ~3K ish

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

“Javier-ommph.” His shoulders bonked your nose as he turned himself over and around in the trunk of the bronco, further squishing you between himself and Steve. “It’s been three hours. If no one shows up, I’m going to kill you!”

“Okay, honey, later,” he mumbled, looking past you out the rearview window. Low yellow light from the Bogotà street lamps hit his eyes and left the rest of his face in the shadows. His chest rose and fell as he scanned outside, past your head. Behind you, you hear Steve fiddling with his sidearm, clicking the cylinder into place. It’s the lowness, the calming choice of words that make the situation really click for you. 

You had stayed as still as you could on your side, sandwiched between the DEA agents’ shoulders. Imagining yourself cartoonishly small helped the awkwardness of having to choose between your ass bumping Steve’s hip, and your thigh lying against Javi’s. The three of you lie very still, listening. 

This wasn’t your job. Your job was to sit in the CIA designated office, walk files back and forth between offices, and develop crime scene photos. That was it. It was not as Javi had phrased it ‘doing us a huge favor’ by playing ‘date’ for the evening so he and Murphy could discreetly plant a camera in a hotel room across the way from some sicario’s hideaway. Without thinking too much about it, you tucked your nose against Javi’s shoulder and worked on compartmentalizing what was happening around you. He smelled like faded vetiver, the orange he’d eaten while waiting for Steve to install the tiny camera, and sweat drawn on by the humidity. He met your eyes, glowing sharp and dark under the lamplight, and you saw his apology in them. 

The back of the bronco opened you inhaled sharply and squeezed your eyes shut, yelping as Javi’s whole body lands on you, and preparing for noise.

“It’s clear, agents, you can come out.”

The image Carillo found when he opened the trunk would have been comical. The gringos bodies squished impossibly in the trunk of the Bronco; Murphy and his dumbass long legs curled upward like a dried-out harvestman blinking in the flashlight glare, and behind him, Peña practically lying on top of a you - a woman he vaguely recognized from the embassy if he squinted. And it didn’t look like the way Peña normally lied over women. Your face heated up under the warm flashlights and your own welling relief. 

When the car door started rattling, Javier had tried to crawl over you and push you behind him, or under him, somewhere not as vulnerable. But in the cramped quarters, he’d only gotten as far as moving his back completely on top of you so you were the big spoon - a big spoon who was near suffocating and panicking. His ass fell heavily into your hip bone, sending a shooting pain down your leg. All you could see was Javi’s shoulder, and the blinding flashlights of the Search Bloc men. 

“Did you get the camera installed?” Carillo asks, as you try to stay still under Javi’s deadweight.

“Yeah, it’s in.” His voice reverberates through you, and you want to smack him for dragging you into this situation. 

“You better get up, Peña, or you’ll suffocate that poor woman.” Your eyes popped open, and you gave in, smacking Javi on the shoulder until he moved. You hissed when you tried to sit up, your hip burning and calve cramping at the same time. The flashlights died, and you were back to sitting in the orange hued shadows inside the Bronco trunk. 

“All right, lady?” Steve asked, hanging his legs off the trunk of the car. Men with rifles stalk around the vehicle, one reporting to Carillo, another two keeping sharp eyes out. It’s quiet for the amount of bodies milling around.  

“Yeah-ow. I’ll be okay.” Javi was moving quietly, looking apologetic, glancing between your sore hip and your face. 

“You’re heavy, Peña,” you say, more to let him know you’re all right, all right enough to give him shit. His lips quirked up a little, and he let his body stretch out, leaning on the trunk ledge. You gently massaged the area that hurt while Javi and Carillo talked together, only catching a few words here and there. It feels like forever later, you sandwiched again sitting on the edge of the trunk between Steve and Javi, swinging your sneakers in little arcs, trying to control your facial expressions. You see Carillo jerk his chin at you, and Javi looks you over before answering. In an unexpected display, Carillo smacks Javi on the shoulder as well, saying what you guess is an expletive before turning and gathering his men. 

“Okay, here’s where we are.” Javi leans on the trunk bed again and bumps your shoulder with his. “The camera is on and transmitting, which is good. Bad news is the sicarios are on alert. Search Bloc wants to escort us home while they keep up the hunt.” 

“Do you own a gun?” Murphy’s question breaks your staring. 

“No, not yet. I meant to…” you trail off as he shakes his head. You know it’s stupid of you not to have any protection. This is Colombia, and you’re a single woman on American government paycheck. You finish lamely, holding your elbows: “I meant to get one.” 

“If they saw her they might be looking for her. Have her stay with you for the night.” 

Javi’s eyebrows raise imperceptibly. You want to say ‘no thank you’ and ‘let’s do it’ all at once. He got you into this mess anyway. 

“Sure, that’s fine.” You let out the breath you’re holding, actually relieved. You didn’t want to go home to your lonely, dark apartment after this. Not for a little while. 

Search Bloc escorts the three of you back to the apartment complex, and you’re ushered inside the building one group at a time. 

“Play nice,” Steve mumbles as he steps out of the bronco for his turn into the building. You watch him saunter in under the harsh lamplight. 

The driver calls back some directions, then takes off driving. You turn to Javi in the backseat, distress written across your face. 

“He says we’re going around the block a couple times then they’ll take us in. Relax,” he suggests, and without preamble, slips his hand around your folded ones in your lap. 

It’s a tense ride. Every corner you close your eyes and take a slow controlled breath. And every time Javi’s hand squeezes yours, the other wrapped around the grip of his sidearm. When the Search Bloc boys bring you back to the complex your sneakers scrape against the pavement up the stairs, then against the hardwood until Javi’s door clicks shut behind you. Then, only then, do you give in to your body's demand to breathe deeply. 

You gather your surroundings - it’s a cushy place, raised kitchen leading back to a bedroom and recessed living area. It would be homey if not for the messes on every surface; mostly cigarette packages, cassette tapes, half-empty glasses. The domesticity distracts you from the reality outside, of tire treads rushing through water run-off along the road. Headlights sweep across the edges of the ceiling to illuminate and fracture the room. It’s exactly what you expect for Javier Peña.

“Is your hip all right?” Javi is lighting a cigarette, but watching you intently. You lift your left leg a bit and shake it. Only a lingering ache remains. 

“It’s fine. A bath will help it,” you say. He nods and puffs out the smoke. You don’t know what to do, so you reach behind you and hook your fingers into the waistline of your skirt and look anywhere but him. The swish follows you down to the couch where you sit, and absently fiddle with the fabric. 

“I know that was more than I asked of you, and I appreciate it.” He pushes his stacks of magazines back into tissues and a crystal ashtray so he can sit on the coffee table. “You did well under pressure.” 

“I belong in a lab, Peña,” you say, leaning your chin on your knuckles. “I’m glad I could help, but don’t ask me to do that again. Ever.” 

“Cross my heart.” 

You smile at him. He’s stupidly handsome; he’d caught your eye the day you’d begun working in the embassy halls in the CIA rooms. You did your part, telling him ‘no’, and pulling confidential files out of his hands, and exchanging barbs daily. But that didn’t stop the tender flame of attraction that grew; you knew it wasn’t your place to harbour it, especially when the rumors of how he behaved with informants reached your ears. It didn’t matter, you decided. It didn’t dissuade you, so you let that little flame smolder freely, content to do your work and content to treat him as Agent Peña. Now in his living room, in the fluorescent kitchen lamplight, you wish all that would go away so you could sleep on his couch in peace. 

He didn’t help, calling you ‘honey’ and leaning on your desk to sweetly ask for specific rolls to be developed before others. He didn’t help at all, jamming his foot in the dark room door before you locked it, asking in his softest voice if he could get a look at them before anyone else did. And he helped the least when in his enthusiasm at whatever break he found in the photos, he’d draw you in by your shirt sleeve and press a grateful kiss to your temple before scribbling down whatever connection he had made. You were always grateful for the red lights hiding the heat that rose under your skin. 

“Do you have any spare blankets?” 

He looks around, like it’s the first time anyone’s asked him. “No, I don’t.” 

“Not even a throw?” Exhaustion leaks into your tone. It’s nearly midnight, and you just want to sleep. Javi stands and shrugs his jacket off. He extends his hand and you take it, letting him lead you down the hall to his bedroom. It’s neat, smells faintly of his cologne and smoke and soap. Before you knew it, he was pushing a big t-shirt into your hands and sitting himself on the bed’s edge to undress. You took the opposite edge, gingerly taking your sneakers off and groaning at the relief of being able to wiggle your toes. 

You decide modesty is for people who don’t identify drug cartel hired guns for a grocery money, and slide into Javi’s bedsheets in your underwear and his borrowed t-shirt. The light in the room clicks off, and you listen to Javi rustle around getting comfortable with your eyes closed. His hand lands on your thigh over the blankets. 

“You’re okay,” he says low, and you respond by resting your hand on top of his wrist as you drift into sleep.  

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

How you got here

“It would just be for a couple hours,” Javi had said, standing over your desk with Steve and your supervisor. Murphy did his part playing skeptic, arms crossed, and his striped tie on too tight. Your supervisor mirrored him, glaring at Peña for asking for such a favor. A big favor. Dark room specialists don’t grow on trees, and you had rolls of film to get processing today. 

“Why can’t one of your informants do this?” your supervisor asks. You raise your eyebrows at Javi. 

“Well, an informant you have to pay.” Murphy tilts his head to the side. Uncle Sam’s purse strings had been a little tight this quarter. “And she’s already on payroll.” 

“It’s up to you,” your super says, leaving you under the hopeful stares of Javi and Steve.

“Look,” Javi leans on your desk, getting low enough to make the conversation private, “you don’t have to do anything dangerous. All we need is to use the hotel room to set up a camera looking into an apartment across the street. You would give us a plausible reason to be entering the hotel, and could help us identify the guy if he shows up. So we’re shooting in the right direction.” 

You squint at Javi. He’s playing the biggest puppy-dog eyes you’ve ever seen. Crossing your arms on your desk, you lean forward so you’re even closer to his face, close enough to smell the last cigarette he had was at least an hour ago. “Do you need help setting up the equipment?” 

The twitch in his cheek tells you everything, just as Murphy answers “yes.” 

“Okay, I’ll bite, fellas.” 

“It will be in and out, honey. Shouldn’t be more than two hours.” His eyes are reassuring as you grab your handbag. 

The hotel clerk speaks with Javi as Murphy stands at your side with a hand lying stiffly on your waist, an appropriate distance from anything intimate, and just firm enough to give the impression of a pleasant couple. 

He gets a key, and the three of you reach the room without a hitch. You help Murphy get the little camera up and transmitting. Javi keeps an eye by the window, looking out the translucent curtains. 

“Bad news. Fuck,” Javi murmurs, and it makes your blood go cold. Murphy stops packing up the bag your equipment had come in and kicks it under the room bed. “We gotta get to the car.” Murphy reaches for the phone, dialing. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask anyone. It’s too vague, you can’t tell what the private language of partners is communicating to one another. 

Javi left the window, signaling to Steve to hurry up with his phone call. “Someone ratted on us, we need to get moving.”  

“I thought you said this wouldn’t be dangerous,” you hiss at him. You see him huff in frustration, and immediately feel bad. “Javi…”

He smooths his hand under your elbow. “Honey, I’m sorry.” 

The three of you make a graceless exit out the back service stairs into the Bogotà twilight, street lamps already on painting things in hazy greens to the humming of cicadas. Your sneakers whisper on the pavement, one hand gripping the back of Javi’s jacket; you feel silly doing it, but you don’t want to lose him, even if he’s inches in front of you. Steps away from the car, your heart is beating loud enough you barely heard the agents agree on where to lay low.  

“Trunk?” Murphy whispered. He had one hand hovering on the center of your back, the other on his revolver. 

Javi flicked his head to his partner, nodding. “Trunk.” 

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

Where you ended up

You woke up because something radiating heat was just downright uncomfortable in the already unbearable Colombian humidity. You wiggled into cooler sheets, only it followed you. 

You realized it was because it was an arm, thrown over your middle. As carefully as you could, you looked over your shoulder to the owner of the arm. 

Light trailed in through the gauzy blue curtains, backlighting Javi’s features and bare chest, laying shadows across his slack face. Uninterrupted by his chatting and clothing, you let yourself take him in; a soft chest inflating rhythmically, and a broad shoulder that collapsed on itself, either from weight, or it’s reach for your own body. You turned back over and nuzzled into the pillow, happy you’d led him lead you to his bed to sleep next to him. You couldn’t imagine being able to sleep soundly without someone there after hiding for your life for hours. A shudder runs through you at the thought, triggering Javi’s breathing to hitch and he draws you closer.��

“Javi,” you murmur in warning. He’s really too warm. He groans back at you, palming your hip but not removing his arm, and you push a little into his hand. “Is there a manual for making quick exits?”

“You gonna run away, baby?” You preen a little under the name, and compensate by pressing your heating cheek into the pillow. 

“No,” you say, letting your eyes fall closed and just enjoying the feel of his thumb brushing over the back of your hip bone through his old shirt. “But I’ve decided to write a how-to manual and you’re going to be the ‘what not to do’ example.”

He shuffles closer to you so you’re leg to leg. “Yeah? For what?” 

You send your top leg out so he can rest his bare thigh between yours. You start in a sing-song voice: “‘What not to do for an effective escape: don’t bring an extra person with you when your means of escape is a car trunk that only fits two bodies, not three.”

“You fit just fine,” he says, and you shiver at his nose bumping your clothed shoulder. 

“I was squished.” 

He snorts. “I got news for you: you lived. Even if you got squished. That’s what I call effective.” You hum when you feel him lift over you and press a kiss to your temple, then your cheek. Turning your head you graze his lips with yours while finding his eyes. They’re still sleepy, not quite open all the way. You don’t even have to lift your head to press your mouth to his warm pliant one, and he returns it gently; it’s different from the excited affectionate ones he plants on your head in the darkroom. You just want to let him know you are alive, and grateful. It’s fleeting, and you know in a week or so it will crack your heart a little more.He breaks it first, pressing a second, then a third into your lips, telling you he understands. 

He lies back behind you, pulling your frame against him, into his warm chest. “Go back to sleep, honey.” 

You pull the sheet around your chin and enjoy the sensation of being held by Javi, if only for a couple more hours. 

Tomorrow you’ll be back at the embassy, explaining your role in a DEA operation turned Colombian military operation to your superior, and you’ll be thinking about how Agent Peña is a much better big spoon than you are. 

[riylcast]

On 500 Episodes

Happy New Year. In 2013, I felt something missing. It was a longing for the hours spent DJing on Santa Cruz radio. Long music marathons – six-hour shows on Saturdays, filling in over the summer and on holidays, popping into the station overnight for something a touch more experimental. I reached out to a few friends in radio, attempting to gauge how difficult it might be to find my way back onto the public airwaves. There was no satisfying answer that didn’t involve me leaving New York City, so I went back to podcasting. I’d already cohosted maybe 10 shows (I’ve genuinely lost count), but nothing stuck for too long. iTunes is littered with my abandon podcasting projects – at least in the case of those where the hosting server is still active. RiYL was my first podcasting project with real longevity, eight-plus years and 500 episodes later. The name has been a mixed blessing – I still find myself having to explain it to anyone I meet who didn’t also do college radio. The idea for the show was simple: long form interviews with as few of the podcast trappings as possible. All the complaints from people who fast-forward through self-indulgent intro monologues made me wonder if we couldn’t just cut the intro altogether. Turns out you can pretty much do whatever you want in podcast. I would only record an outro – and even that would fall by the wayside, after a bout with Bell’s Palsy last year (not fully healed, but getting there) that put the show on its first-ever extended hiatus. RiYL started with a series of remote interviews: Peter Stampfel and Mary Roach – two guests who have recently returned to show as we approached episode 500 (though Mary, to be fair, returned a few other times in the interim). I eventually jury-rigged a portable recording system small enough to live in a laptop sleeve, packed away in a backpack or a suitcase for work travel. For years, I refused to do any interviews that weren’t in-person, though Covid would put a stop to that. It continues to amaze me who we’ve been able to get for the show over the past six years. Congressman John Lewis, Bruce Hornsby, Marc Maron, Matt Groening, Rivers Cuomo, Daniel Clowes, Art Spiegelman, Alison Bechdel, Eric Bogosian, Peter Frampton, Suzanne Vega, Errol Morris and Ralph Nader. And recently, people like Shirley Manson, Danny Elfman, Merry Clayton and Dar Williams. We’ve had people at the top of their game and up-and-coming artists, like Phoebe Bridgers who was just on the verge of releasing her first album. For each hundredth episode, I’ve tried to get someone whose work has meant a lot to me. For episode 100, it was They Might Be Giants, Al Jaffee for 200, Michael McDonald on 300. Episode 400 with Colin Newman of Wire was recorded backstage at the Music Hall of Williamsburg on March 11, 2020. It turned out to be one of the final in-person episodes I’ve recorded to-date. Friend of the show and past guest Dan Kennedy recorded an intro for it, due to the aforementioned facial paralysis. (Incidentally, I recently did my first in-person interview in nearly two years with Kevin Whelan of the Wrens and Aeon Station. It’s a good one, just went up.) Over the years, I’ve recorded in bars, offices, coffee shops, storage rooms and maintenance closets (atop a box of vodka bottles for Shannon Shaw). I recorded an interview with John Leguizamo standing up in an unfurnished warehouse space at the Javits Center during New York Comic Con. I interviewed Ben Harper and his mother, Ellen, in the lobby of the Ritz Carlton, a few weeks before Mother’s Day. Hannibal Buress knocked on my hotel door in Lagos, Nigeria after a long, late night to record a conversation with microphones mounted on an upside-down suitcase. Keith Morris was vertical for most of our interview because he’d just injured his back. A Dick Gregory (RIP) interview was recorded in the back of a jostling taxi ride on the way to Penn Station, as I grew increasingly car sick. I ran with his suitcase and got him to his train just in the nick of time, shook his hand, made my way above ground and proceeded to puke my guts out on the sidewalk outside of Madison Square Garden. If you follow me on social media, you know how much I’ve been stressing out about episode 500. It was important that I find someone amazing – and I’m happy to report that I did just that with Nick Lowe. I’ve been transfixed by the man and his music for decades now, ever since I first encountered “So It Goes” on some power-pop compilation. It’s a good interview with someone I admire greatly, and I think I show a lot of restraint by not shouting “they were on the show!” when he mentions forgotten pub rock pioneers Eggs Over Easy. And while, during hard times, I have considered packing it in after some round number, I have so many upcoming interviews, I won’t be able to quit any time soon. The list includes Naomi Yang, Buzz Osborne, David Christian/Feck, Rutu Modan, David Thomas, Oliver Ackermann, Mark Oliver Everett, Josh Caterer, Buffalo Nichols, Melanie Charles, Kurt Heasley, and Lester Chambers. And there are still so many people I’d love to interview (only two of five Kids in the Hall?!) – or interview again. Thanks to everyone who’s listened, subscribed, rated and shared the show. Thanks to anyone who’s ever helped me book or promote an episode. Thanks to Brian and Geneva for editing help early on and thanks to Mark and Boing Boing crew for asking me to join the network after a few shows. Taken as a whole, RiYL is the thing I’m proudest of in my career. These have been some of the best conversations I’ve had in my life, and I’m happy I get to share them with you each week. Here’s episode 500 with Nick Lowe. I hope you like it. 

[footballfanfictions]

Think that I like her - Phase Eight

Christian

No more fucking around this time. That’s what I told myself.

I was trying to focus on the game ahead of me, but how could I when I had made a pretty girl a promise?

Mason was sat a few seats away from me, putting his shin pads on and was in his own world with his air pods in. I couldn’t tell him that I was nervous about the game and nervous about a stupid joke I had made.

I felt like my whole romantic future with Kara was riding on me scoring a hat trick and I had only done that once since arriving at Chelsea.

I was just thankful to be in the starting line up given the big dip in form I had in the middle of the season.

“Are you ready mate?” Tammy asked me.

As the number 9 he sat next to me in the locker room. I hadn’t really noticed him there because he had been quietly texting for a while.

“Er, yeah.” I mumbled.

“Is there something on your mind?” he pressed.

I laughed and looked down at my boots. “Yeah actually. Told a girl I’d bring her home the match ball today.”

“Tell you what, you show me a picture of her and if she’s fire, I’ll pass the ball to you whenever I’m in the box” Tammy held his hand out to me gesturing to my cellphone that was next to me.

I picked it up and hesitantly opened a picture of Kara on the screen.

“Twit-twoooo” Tammy whistled. “That is a done deal there my brother, I will pass you the ball any day of the week if it helps you to hit that.”

I tried so hard not to blush. “You’re such a child.” I bantered back to him.

He passed the phone back to me and I took one last look at the picture before locking the screen and putting it into my locker.

______________________________________________________________

Kara

I had let Mollie drag me out of the house for once. I didn’t feel much like it, but she was right, Saturdays were for enjoying yourself and not lounging around in your PJs taking too many naps.

So I had gotten dressed up, put make up on and walked down the street with her to one ion our favourite bars. They were doing 2 for 1 cocktails and happened to be showing the Chelsea match on their large TV screens. From any of the tables we would get a pretty good view of the televisions to watch the boys on.

“It’s almost like you planned this.” I laughed.

Mollie was scanning the menu and saying something about not wanting to be bloated later so she wasn’t really paying attention to me.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a girl that I recognised. She had long blonde hair extensions that didn’t quite match the tone of her real hair.

“Is that Lucie?” I asked.

Mollie still didn’t look up, she was now checking something on her phone.

I swallowed my words, about to tell Mollie again that our ex friend was there, when I realised who she was accompanied by. Mike. Mollie’s ex boyfriend and nearly fiancé.

“Mase just text me the cutest picture of him. They kick off in a minute.” Mollie grinned, looking up just above my head to the screen behind me.

I took a long sip of my drink and decided that it wasn’t worth ruining her happiness or her day. What her and Mason had going on was proving to be really special and she deserved it after a series of failed relationships.

“There he is!” she squealed as Mason walked out onto the pitch.

My breath caught in my throat when Christian came out of the tunnel. His hair was all curly and slightly messy. He looked like he still had bed hair from where he had slept on their sofa last night. She couldn’t hide her smile.

“Who knew we would fall for bloody footballers eh?” I laughed.

“Excuse me Miss, did you just say fall?” Mollie asked, her eyes wide.

Shit. Did I mean that?

I did really really like him, there was no doubt about that. Now that I had met him and had been close to him, I didn’t know how to go back to not knowing him.

“I don’t really know how I feel right now.”

“I think you’re on the cusp of loving him.” Mollie shrugged. “Anyone that knows you can see it. When we said goodbye earlier, Mase said to me that he thought you two were head over heels for each other and I agree. You were so snuggly on the sofa when we got in.”

The game kicked off and I raised my glass to Mollie, toasting “to being on the cusp”.

————————————————-

Mollie was more than slightly tipsy, she had really gone to town on the cocktail deal. I had indulged more than I usually would to, but not to the same extent.

“Why did Mason just pass the ball instead of shooting?” she groaned.

It was the second half now and Chelsea were 3-2 up. Christian had scored two of the goals, the first was headed down into his foot by Tammy Abraham from a corner and the second was a pass from Mason that he probably could have taken himself. As I watched them celebrate I saw Tammy and Mason whispering something to Christian as they celebrated the goal and him jokingly brushing them off.

“I think they’re actually trying to help him.” I laughed.

She pouted. “But I want to celebrate Mase scoring.”

It then took a bit of a downhill turn and their opponents had all of the possession. Chelsea were ahead but barely and they had already conceded two goals from sloppy defending. “Don’t score, don’t score.” I chanted quietly as the opposition’s striker rampaged into the box.

Thankfully he gave the ball directly to the keeper who in a quick move, threw the ball out to the left wing where Ben Chilwell was ready to make a run up the pitch.

There were hardly any players ahead of him but the top three were fast.

Tammy was in the middle and received the pass from Ben, and then with the outside of his right foot, squared the ball to Christian who had joined him in the box and took the shot without a touch.

The whole bar erupted when the ball hit the back of the net. They were assured of the three points now with only a few minutes left to play, and Christian had just bagged the hat trick.

“Damn, he actually did it.”

—————————————————————————————————-

The walk to Stamford Bridge wasn’t a very long one, but it was if your friend was quite drunk and you were both wearing heels unsuitable walking on uneven pavement.

The two of us waited by the players entrance, fully expecting that we wouldn’t be allowed past security but Mason had tipped off the security staff that Mollie would probably come and meet him so they let us past, but did raise an eyebrow at her condition. I shrugged and told them she had just been celebrating the team’s great victory and the security guy laughed.  He was probably more than used to letting girls back here, some footballers were right dogs when it came to women.

Mason was one of the first to come out into the underground car park and I handed drunk Mollie over to him with a grin and an “all yours now”.

He gave her a bear hug and lifted her slightly off her feet.

I smiled watching the two of them interact, but hoped he didn’t squeeze her too hard, I did not want to see her lunch again.

A few more players came out and went to their cars without so much of a glance in our direction.

Christian was one of the last out and it was agony waiting for him, but I tried to join in with some of the friendly banter going on between Mollie and Mase the best that I could, my stomach all tied up in knots.

When he emerged he didn’t see me right away but when he did, his face absolutely lit up.

“That is our signal to leave” Mason laughed, tugging Mollie by the hand over to his car. She tried to protest that she couldn’t leave me but gave in when I said I’d be fine and would see her later at home.

Then it was just the two of us left in the underground car park, and i had inadvertently ended up next to Christian’s car.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, quickly putting his kit bag into the boot of his car before he jogged around the side of it and put his arms around me.

“I believe you have something of mine, I have just come to collect it” I slid my arms around his neck and he pressed my back against the car window before brushing his lips against mine.

“Is that so?” he said quietly before his mouth met mine again. This time the kiss was wet, sloppy and needy. It felt to me like he had been holding something back when he had kissed me before, that he was now letting go of.

There was a small polite cough just behind us and we sprung apart. I was mortified, thinking that it was one of the security guards and that they would assume we were about to go at it against the side of Christian’s car.

“Sorry love birds but you ain’t alone. My missus has got to pick me up, I got another driving ban” the guy said before winking at Christian.

It was Tammy Abraham.

[hyperfixationation]

me ideas relating to boots n bombs but it’s a list for the world to see 

Disclaimer that these are all cross-faction (RED demoman BLU soldier because WAR! comic is good stuff) and i cannot promise that they make sense because over the months of writing/yeeting ideas/rambles at myself and sal ( @/0-salty-potato-0 shoutout to her for being my ramble sponge) also in part because i’ve kinda developed BLU and RED team members independently fjskds

summary of summary: perfect world, modern, established relationship, timetravel, royalty, amnesia, mermaid, and then some (20 ideas in varying summary length in total lmao) underneath the cut (if tumblrs a butt and does not cut i sincerely apologies)

Perfect world au Tavish and Jane spend their days fighting each other, belonging to two different teams yet thick as thieves in the bright of day. Their jobs are fun and engaging, their teams close as families, and late nights laughing together over a few bottles of beer to look forward to on the empty battlefields. They’re happy, they have everything they could want and everything is perfect. So why was Tavish saying it’s not? 

Modern au  where Tavish lives in the affectionately (or not) named RED cul-de-sac, given from the fact that all the houses had some sort of red color tint or highlights. An interesting neighborhood, with even more interesting neighbors. Life fell into an odd but familiar routine since he moved there, life was comfortable. That was until one of his neighbors crashed one of Conagher’s barbecues announcing that his twin brother none of them had ever heard about was going to be living with him for the time being. This wouldn’t have been much of an issue, if Tavish didn't live in the house right next to Solly. (In a vaguely similar vein theres also one where Soldier’s a ghost/eldritch being haunting a house that Tavish buys

Established Relationship AU where BLU Scout stumbles across his Soldier and the RED Demoman being buddy buddy’s not long after the WAR! after a long battle in Dustbowl, confused and a bit betrayed by the Soldier’s actions, he runs back to his base only to be intercepted by none other than the RED Spy. The Spy asks for secrecy, after some persuasion Scout agrees reluctantly. But, how long could the Scout keep a secret anyway? Story deals with both teams reaction to their teammates relationship with an enemy merc

Timetravel au where the RED Demoman drunkenly begs for a chance to fix a great wrong and  he’s sent into the past by Merasmus. Only he’s sent far into the past, right in the middle of the WAR! between him and the enemy Soldier. Tavish has to navigate this old world, interact with teammates with years of familiarity gone, without bringing too much suspicion upon himself. All at the same time trying to make sure the future never goes the way it does. It’s almost too much, but he was the bloody Demoman, he’ll persevere. He had to. Even if it meant reliving one of the worst fights in his life against a man he could no longer bring himself to harm.

Mermaid au where the ocean had always called out to Jane. An odd sense of anxiety settles inside of him when the company he’s been working for to fend off supernatural beings from american lands stations him to protect the coasts. And it was fine, he was born to kill monsters. That was what they told him. So why did one of the enemies, a deadly siren with a missing eye, know his name? Why did he seem so relieved to see him? Claiming to know him from a past he had forgotten?

Royalty AU     okay i have like 4 takes on royalty au but one of them is that RED and BLU are enemy kingdoms but a sudden out of the blue truce that the RED court is informed of via BLU sending some members of their court as ambassadors, suspicions and tensions are naturally high and they both have to learn to deal with it, however the BLU general and RED prince seem to be getting along surprisingly well after a few spars

Amnesia AU talked a bit about it in that ask anon sent, general concept one day the BLU Soldier goes missing, nobody is able to find him until one day the RED Demoman, Sniper and Spy get stranded in a nameless off the map town. Finding a man who looked, sounded and acted just like the missing Soldier in a bar, only he showed no recollection of them. 

Another spin would be the whole BLU team goes missing, also with more of those brainwashy-culty vibes

Classic 5+1, five firsts and one last that details their life together before, during and after the WAR!

Post MVM pre-comics setting where the former BLU Soldier confronts the former RED demoman at his own home, age old lies are uncovered and old bridges rebuilt as the two learn to live together

Canon comics except Jane’s also there, whats on the tin   when Miss Pauling goes to recruit Demoman to find the australium for the Administrator she was expecting an immediate yes. She planned for it. Yet the Demoman hesitated, and soon she saw the reason why. Tavish would only go if Jane could come along, car ride’s a bit cramped but it would have to be a minor inconvenience

Idk name of ones/random drabble ideas:

Self indulgent Jane is brainwashed by Gray Mann after the gravel wars, after Gray Mann is defeated he sends Jane (“General”) to protect and hide Olivia Mann so that the company stays his, post comics red team + Pauling have been looking for them but Tavish was the first to find them while reminiscing in Gravel Pits and basically “jane the fuck that kids a devil”

During Scream Fortress where Jane and Tavishs long buried guilt and self hatred regarding their relationship with each other takes form as living nightmares as mountains of gibs and sea of heads

Fusion au except idk how to write fusions so it’d focus more on the vibes

After red v blu wars but Before MVM tavish goes to have an actual talk with jane for the first time in years

BLU Soldier gets turned into a kid and somehow stumbles into RED base

Misunderstanding with Merasmus gets tavish and Jane bodyswapped

Undercover, RED’s protecting some random guy and BLU’s there to kidnap/kill in a fancy rich person ball sort-of setting

Wings au

Soulmate au

Honestly just she-ra au, let them be princesses 

[sourbat]

“do you want me to give you advice or do you just want me to listen?” magtok or ship if your choice

This got a little self-indulgent. 

and yes, it’s magtok

After their shared meeting, the psychiatrist requested that Toki leave, and Magnus stay behind for a little while longer. Neither had any reason to believe the news was bad, but when Magnus does leave the small office some five minutes later, looking a little worse for wear, Toki assumes some misgiving had occurred. Bad news? Failure to meet certain goal posts?  An increase in dosage?

After a few handshakes, the required talks with the nurse scheduling the next appointment, it’s a quiet ride down the elevator, with Magnus reading the overview of his meeting in absolute silence. Toki clicks his tongue against his teeth, testing the tone and Magnus’ overall mood. The older man never voices a single complaint the ride down, and continues keeping to himself the walk to the car.

Toki refuses for the ride home to be silent, and immediately snuffs any chance of Magnus spending the next several minutes driving and moping in silence. The keys go into the ignition, and Toki stops him and asks if there is anything he can do to help Magnus. He makes sure not to guess the source of the problem, point a finger or ask any additional questions.

The question hangs above their heads. Toki waits for Magnus’ response, mentally preparing himself for the worse, only to have Magnus drop the keys he had readied for the ignition, and quietly announces that his psychiatrist wants him to consider dropping the mood suppressants.

“She wants you off the suppresscants?” Toki says aloud, taking in the news one word at a time. He falls into the passenger seat, eyes agape and staring out towards the parking lot.

“Yeah.” Magnus squeezes the keys in his hand. “Since my dosage is already so low, she wants me to–”    

“Oh, Magnus, this ams such great news!” Toki reaches over to Magnus’ side, pulling him into an awkward, but loving embrace. He rubs his face against a tuft of brown waves, smiling at the tickle.

Toki waited for this day. Magnus worked so hard trying to get better. They’d been to so many sessions. Even on the best of days, Toki knows Magnus didn’t look forward to the trips. He could be in a good mood going in, but the sessions always prove to be stressful, cathartic to the point of it being emotionally overwhelming at times. It isn’t easy.

Manus wriggles underneath him. “You’re really excited about this?”

“Yeps!” Toki happily announces. “You gets to get offs another medicines!”

Satisfied, Toki relinquishes his hold on Magnus and drops back to his seat, but not before picking up the stapled, folded sheets detailing the information of their recent visit. He flips through the pages, stopping at the second to the last where he reads the summary and doctor’s suggestion. There it is, clear as day. The good news. Drop the suppressants to see if Magnus can rely solely on learned techniques and his own hindsight to keep himself in check. It’s real. This is real. It has been such a long time coming, but it’s finally here.

And isn't this one of the pills Magnus couldn’t mix with alcohol? Toki’s eyes glisten with excitement and possibilities. He thinks of the new and old activities he can reintroduce to Magnus, once he is clear, cleansed of this old prescription and off the blasted pills. They can go out and drink more, and Magnus can get drunk again! Maybe Magnus can take other things, too, and Toki wouldn’t have to worry about it getting in the way of decision making, Magnus making rash decisions, or Magnus going from one extreme to the-

Toki notices how quiet it’s gotten, and when he turns and checks on Magnus, sees that he is still fiddling with the keys. His eyes shift between the collective sheets in Toki’s hands, and the many keys and chains he entangles with his busy hands.

“Ims there something wrongs?” Toki asks, not quite catching on to Magnus’ silence. 

A frown. “Nothing,” he answers, still eyeing the keys. “Just…didn’t think you’d get so excited.”

Toki folds the sheets messily on top one another. “You ams getting off the medicaskons. Beens a long times since that happens.”

It’s been over a year since dropping another medication. Toki remembers it clear as day. Like now, Toki had been just as excited, but so had Magnus. They’d both been so relieved to know there was one less thing holding Magnus together.

Why isn’t Magnus happy right now?

Toki’s hand crushes the sheets. “Magnus?”

Magnus grips the wheel. “Toki, I don’t think I–”

The leather groans under his hold. Toki grits his teeth against the sound. A nasty weight piles in his stomach the second Magnus tears away from the window to meet him.

His stare lets Toki know it’s dread.

“I don’t think I want to get off the suppressants,” Magnus announces, voice unwavering, but it���s clear he’s upset. Toki can hear the sharp cadence, the hidden snap that was already gathering on the defense.  “I… don’t want to stop taking them.”

Toki’s silent. He stares at Magnus, watches his expression turn from nervous to dejected at what Toki assumes is his own disappointed expression. Toki can feel it reach into every fiber of his being. The shock. The sudden turn of events. He must look so surprised, he thinks, but can’t bring himself to check in the mirror. He can’t even get himself to look away from Magnus who keeps eyeing him, waiting for a change, a smile, a supportive line. Anything.

Toki’s head fills with questions. He tries reaching for one, the most obvious “but why nots,” but as he parts his lips, Magnus jerks in seat.

“Like, I know you’re really excited” he says, voice picking up volume and a distinct uncontrolled shakiness. Magnus smiles when he says it, too, though Toki can detect its inauthenticity the second Magnus tries offering it to him. “I was, too. But then she kept talking about the cleansing period, and the initial swings, and I don’t know, man.”

Magnus hands leave the wheel and start swinging, moving with frantic words and expressions that carve deep into Toki. He sees Magnus shake, go pale as he fights to defend a decision Toki cannot comprehend. The fake smile leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“I know it’s been a while, and I know I see it all through black and white, but I don’t want to say or do anything like I remember,” Magnus says through the silent strain. Toki blinks, witnessing past acts of blind or misdirected rage. He sees Magnus hiding under the covers for days, only leaving to use the restroom or rehydrate. He watches Magnus right now, shaking his head at himself, disbelieving his own strength. “I don’t want to snap at people. I don’t want to feel like I’m choking on my own thoughts.”

There’s anger sitting at the edge of every word. Toki hears it lingering, feels its weight settle around him, but never aimed directly at him.

Magnus coughs false laughter. “Am I overreacting? You think I’m overreacting, don’t you?” He points a finger at himself.  “I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m being stupid, making this more than what it has to be…”

He falls into his seat, hands dragging across his face. Fingers get caught in his hair, curl and writhe and purposely get tangled. Toki stops it with a hand resting on top of Magnus' leg. The simple gesture is enough for Magnus to fix himself up, though avoids looking in Toki’s direction until he’s able to tolerate his own reflection in the rearview. 

“I’m over-fucking-thinking it, again.” He sighs. Toki squeezes Magnus’ thigh, calling for his attention. It takes a few seconds for Magnus to relax, for shoulder ease into place and frown shift into a defeated grin, before he finally secedes. He stares solemnly at Toki. “I need to stop doing that. I really should’ve just asked you from the start, huh?”

The hand shifts from the thigh to Magnus’ hand. 

Toki peers close. “Do you wants me to gives you advice or does you just wants me to listen?” 

There’s a pin that burrows into his chest when he utters it, because he knows it’s far from what he wants to tell Magnus. But it’s what the man needs to hear, and once it's out there, Toki sees Magnus’ chest heave, and eyes go dark before being covered with his sleeve.

“…I don’t want to be angry all the time,” Magnus confesses. The answer doesn’t immediately surprise Toki, but the fear riddled in Magnus’ eyes, the dread in his voice keeps Toki alert and listening. “I don’t want to feel like I need to look over my shoulder. I don’t want to hurt you. I know you think I won’t, but I can’t shake this feeling I’ll do something awful if I don’t keep myself in check. I know you trust me, but I don’t know if I’m quite there yet, with you. You trust me, but… I’ve done it to you on meds, and now she wants me off of them? What if say something I can’t take back?” 

The pin pushes further inward. It hurts because all Toki can hear is how much Magnus thinks about him, how considerate he’s trying to be. It’s so sweet. How nice of him, but he was being so mean to himself in the process. That also hurt, because Toki knows Magnus is better than he thinks. He’s stronger than he gives himself credit for. And it hurts the most because it means the day hasn’t yet arrived, and Toki is going to have to wait a little longer for it to come.

“Okays.”

“What?” 

Toki pulls in his lips, fighting past a sigh as he fishes for the right words. They come sooner than predicted, and with them, a gentle warmth. Acceptance. “If you don’t think you ams ready, then you ams not ready. I trusts you. And when you ams, we can celebrates then, okays?”

There’s a smile near the end, and when it forms, the pain lessens. Toki feels it spread across his face, and with it the sense that he still needs to reel Magnus back to him. 

He goes for the shoulder. “You okays?”

A despondent frown. “You’re not upset?”

There’s no point in lying to Magnus, not after being so blatantly disappointed after hearing the news. He can handle the truth, Toki thinks, and the more he dwells on it, the more Toki realizes it’s better they both hear.

“I knows I was exciteds about you drinkins and havins fun with me, but we does that anyways,” Toki starts cautiously, and watches as Magnus gives a short, but confirming nod. He tucks his hands between his legs. “And you said you don’t trusts yourskelves, so…Toki will just have to works on that. Helps out my bestest friend believes in himself more.”

He looks up hopefully at Magnus. Toki unbuckles his seatbelt, leaves his seat and takes Magnus into an embrace.

“This ams your therapy,” he says, and feels Magnus’ arms fold around him. “You gets to decides when you ams ready, not me.”

Magnus shuts his eyes. A sharp intake of breath. “Thank you.”

The words hit just right, because once Toki hears it, the pain starts to vanish. They remain that way for some time, with Magnus selfishly pulling Toki as close as their limited space will allow, and Toki listening in on the occasional sniff, the skip of a rapid heartbeat desperately working to convince itself this wasn’t a failure, but something else.

Eventually, the discomfort of his potion forces Toki to part with Magnus sooner than preferred. He catches a relieved sigh once he does, but notices Magnus wiping his face once he does return to his seat. The man hasn’t quite recovered yet.

Toki spots the keys resting between Magnus’ legs. He swallows.

“Wants me to drive?”

Eyes still closed, Magnus stubbornly shakes his head. “You hate driving.”

Toki openly challenges the remark with a slight drop of his voice. “Do you wants me to drive us homes?” 

The steering wheel groans, and Magnus’s head sinks against the growing silence. 

Eyes open, and tears fall. “Yeah…”

Smiling, Toki reaches for the keys.

[gingerwritess]

home boy loki needs his hair brushed asap

part 12 of loki’s happy ending, masterlist in bio!

ok now things can start moving between you two eheheheheheh

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

There’s a god in your shower.

No big deal. Just another normal day in the life of me.

What in god’s name possessed you to agree to this, you have no clue, but he’s been in there for almost an hour now and you’re just listening to your water bill shoot through the roof.

No. big. deal.

You’re about to go bang on the door and yell at him to finish up before he drains the ocean when the door swings open and he stomps past you.

Glowing.

You lower your fist and clear your throat, intent on ignoring yet another eyeful of bare godly torso.

“Took you long enough.”

“It’s been nearly a month,” he scowls, shooting you a glare. “I have a lot of hair to wash.”

“Cool.” You nod and awkwardly sit on the side of your bed, trying not to watch him finish drying himself off. “I got you some clean clothes. Just some sweats and a t-shirt, nothing fancy. Sorry.”

He casts you a sideways glance, tightening the towel around his waist. “Thank you.”

After nearly three hours of hiding in your office eating, Loki had gathered the courage—and the blatant shame—to reluctantly request to take a shower. You’d told him you wouldn’t stop him from using the communal showers in the tower, to which he had just raised an eyebrow at you in clear annoyance.

“Oh. Right, only Laing, not you,” you remembered. “You, um, can use mine.”

A slightly awkward car ride and a quick stop in the men’s section of the nearest department store brought you to now, holding out the grey sweats and t-shirt to the freshly washed god—the glowing god, you realise again when you get another good glance at that ridiculously well-defined torso.

He takes them without another word, stepping back with one hand holding the towel around his waist, staring at you in silence.

“Well?”

You blink. “Well what?”

“Shall I dance for you as I drop the towel? Or are you planning on turning around?”

So maybe the staring is obvious. But he’s...glowing.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, hurriedly swivelling around on the bed to turn your back on him. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.”

You hear him rustle around for a bit, wishing he could’ve just stayed in the bathroom to change, considering this is now twice that you’ve seen way more of him than a “workplace associate” should ever get to—have to.

I meant have to.

Your heart beats a tiny, tiny bit faster.

You panic.

“So you’re glowing,” you blurt, burying your face in your hands just in case he rounds the bed and gets a look at you.

He doesn’t need to start thinking he holds any power over you.

“No,” Loki quickly replies from behind you. “I’m not.”

“You totally were. I saw you, your whole torso was glowing.”

“Staring, were we?”

You grab a pillow and lob it somewhere over your head, hoping and praying that it hits him—the soft thunk and hissed “I’ll kill you” seem to say that it did.

“People don’t glow,” you huff into your hands, waiting for the go-ahead to look. “Is that just your natural glow? You wear like, permanent all-body highlighter?”

“I’m not glowing,” he says again, voice slightly muffled—must be putting the shirt on.

The dumb side of your brain heaves a sad, disappointed sigh at that fact, and you want to slap yourself.

Slow footsteps drag over to come to a stop in front of you, and you peek through your fingertips to find a thankfully clothed god standing before you—still glowing.

“Just look.”

You push him by the shoulders over to the mirror on your dresser, flinging a hand towards his reflection as he stares.

The gold shimmer to his pale skin is unmistakable.

“Glowing. I told you.”

“I don’t see it,” he smoothly replies.

His hand twitches against his thigh as he turns away from the mirror, and in the blink of an eye, the entire golden hue surrounding his figure is gone.

“You just made it go away.” You blink a couple times, taking a shocked step away from him. “It was there. I saw it, and you did something with your hand.”

“You’re delusional.” Loki gives you a thin smile.

“Do it again.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Do—do it again,” you repeat, waving your hand at him as you look him up and down. “Show me again.”

There’s a strange lift to your voice, something he’s certain he’s never heard before, not from you, not from anyone on Asgard, not from anyone between the two.

Perhaps from his mother, perhaps centuries ago when he couldn’t quite reach the window sill she’d claimed as her’s and his, back when he’d managed to produce nothing more than a painful spark in the palm of his hand.

“Do that again.”

You’re...interested.

A lump catches in his throat.

“No. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

To appease you would be too indulgent. It’d be stupid, a mindless thrill for a few seconds that’d only begin another downward spiral of yearning.

Impressing a mortal isn’t exactly a feat to consider an accomplishment.

The spell was a stupid idea, he decides, it was too obvious, too drastic. The intensity of the concealment might be necessary, but he’ll have to make extra efforts if he wants to keep up the façade without those, uh...glittery side effects.

“Okay,” you slowly say with a frown, “never mind. Sorry I asked.”

The eye contact is scalding.

Something’s up. Loki’s silent, you’re uncomfortable, and those pants look pretty damn good on him.

Some butts are made for grey sweatpants.

Loki finally breaks, turning around and walking away from you without another word—yeah. Butts like that.

Did I mention you’re uncomfortable?

You loudly clear your throat as you stand, shoving every last thought about your fake boyfriend doctor god to the absolute furthest corner of your mind. Time for mature, professional interactions.

“Need a hairbrush?”

“What?” Loki whirls around at your voice, eyes wide. “Why would I need—”

“Easy, Loki,” you laugh, raising your hands in defence. “Just thought I’d offer.”

He goes silent for a moment, then slowly nods.

“Please.”

He takes it from you without so much as a glance.

Riiip. Riiip. Riiiiiiip.

You chance a quick look into the bathroom only to find Loki positively ripping through his hair with the frenzy of a madman, his hair a wet, matted, tangled mess of dark locks that you could’ve sworn wasn’t like that when he came out of the shower.

Or any other time you’ve seen him, for that matter.

“Loki,” you quickly call, slipping into the bathroom before he can lash out at you again. “Stop, you’ve gotta be gentle, stop—stop—”

He scowls when you grab the brush out of his hand, your other hand smacking him lightly on the arm. “I can do this myself,” he grits out, fingers finding the back of his head and rubbing there with a wince. “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re hurting yourself.” You hold up the brush with a sheepish grin. “Can I, um, can I help?”

There’s a moment of hesititation—then deep contemplation, deciding whether he can live with the shame, you guess—followed by another curt nod.

“Sit on the edge of the bathtub, yeah?”

Surprisingly enough, he does as you say, and when the brush meets his scalp, he flinches.

“Sorry, sorry.”

Staring from the bottom up, you try to work your way around the knots upon knots of matted hair, tugging as gently as possible and trying with every ounce of yourself to not let your fingers brush against his neck.

Loki doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move hardly at all, despite your incessant tugging at his scalp. It’s far from a relaxing moment, and even further from—as some may consider it—a somewhat romantic one.

Even still, you desperately want to dispel any tension that might be starting to break through the surface.

“Your hair wasn’t all tangled when you got in the shower,” you point out, working the brush through a particularly troublesome knot near his neck. “You were using an illusion for that, too, right?”

Half-expecting him to deny it, his curt “I was” comes as a bit of a surprise.

“How come?”

“I’ve been stuck in prison,” he replies, but it’s offhanded, thrown out as an excuse.

You’ve half a mind to call him out on it, but you elect to just change the subject instead. “Have you given anymore thought to actually going to your therapy?”

“You mean go back to prison,” Loki corrects, fingers tightening on the edge of the bath. “Back in the hands of my brother and his little friends, their prodding and poking and watching me through a glass case like an animal—”

CRACK.

You both look down with a start.

“I...sorry. I’ll fix that.”

Somehow in that quick little almost-tangent, he’d gripped the bathtub edge so tightly that the porcelain cracked.

An excellent reminder of whose hair you’re brushing—and who you’ve now brought into your home, fed, and are pretending to date, all to appease a grand plan that has yet to be revealed to you.

You suddenly wish you’d brought your taser.

“We should be getting back to work soon,” you say as brightly as you can, putting extra effort into not tugging too hard on his hair as you hurry to finish. “Three-hour lunch breaks aren’t exactly advised.”

Why’d you do that for him, then?

He just nods, hands moving slightly as the edge of the tub crackles back together.

Only one more little bit of hair left to untangle, and your finger brushes just above the neck of his shirt, a jolt of near electricity zipping up your arm as Loki flinches violently, hissing a curse.

“Don’t touch me.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat—and really wishing for your taser—you hurriedly yank the brush the rest of the way through the tangled lock.

His hair moves with the sideways jerk of his head and you catch a glimpse of the pale skin at the base of his neck, normally covered by his hair and the neckline of his shirt.

...and your heart drops.

Bits of fresh red scar tissue peek out from the neckline, jagged incisions along the back of his neck and only suggesting an array of horror further beneath his shirt than you’d like to imagine.

“Loki,” you breathe, a finger catching in the neckline of his shirt to see the barely-formed scars chasing each other down his back.

He stands abruptly and snatches up your wrist, hair falling to cover the cuts and a demon in his eye screaming murder, then you’re back in your office.

“Glowing,” you blurt out before he’s reached the door, making him freeze with a hand on the knob. “That’s why you were glowing, y-you’re covering your—Loki, that’s not—you have to tell them—”

He’s back to Dr. Laing in the blink of an eye, shutting you up with a deadly glare you can see through the illusion.

“This was a mistake.”

Your hand searches the desk for your taser as you stare at him. “Okay then.”

“I liked you much better when you just played along,” he snaps, and your eyes narrow.

“I think you liked it better when I fed you,” you spit back, fingers wrapping around your taser—just in case. “And when I let you use my shower. And when I brushed your hair.”

“If you’re searching for gratitude, look elsewhere, mortal.”

“Really?” Your laugh turns cold, shaking your head at the fake doctor across from you. “I just saved your ass, and that’s how you’re gonna treat me? Okay.”

You pick up the desk phone.

Loki’s eyes narrow. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Reporting you. Again. For real this time.” You flash him a feigned smile and punch in the numbers. “And I’m telling them that you’re hiding crucial information regarding your employer for the little invasion stunt you pulled. They’re not gonna be too happy about that.”

“They owe me everything,” he hisses, taking a rapid step towards you, hand outstretched. “It was my suffering that brought this team of freaks together, it was my strategy that allowed them to become the heroes your world holds so dear.”

The phone is still ringing, and you put it on speaker. “But someone else was playing puppet master, weren’t they?”

“Hang up the phone,” he orders, snapping his fingers. “Stop this. You don’t know what you’d be starting.”

The phone keeps ringing and Loki’s eyes flit up to yours, wide and—huh.

Panicked.

That’s clear panic in his eyes, fear; Loki’s afraid of something.

“Please.”

Reluctantly, doubtfully, you put the phone back on the receiver.

“You better start talking,” you tell him, dropping back into your chair. “Where’d those cuts come from?”

Instead of answering, Laing-Loki just stares at you, those illusive eyes boring into your skull; you’re glad he’s not Loki right now.

Your grip tightens on the taser.

“Stop it.” It’s barely a growl through gritted teeth, barely intelligible.

His fingers touch down on the desk, a little lean to his body that makes you recoil, wishing you could curl into a little ball and escape the burning in his eyes, but you find yourself unable to break the gaze.

“I said stop,” he repeats, and this time it’s a warning.

“Stop what?”

“You’re pitying me.” The corner of his lip quirks upwards.

It’s not exactly a dashing smile.

“No, I’m not,” you counter with a frown. “Don’t flatter yourself, I care about a lot of people.”

“You’re full of it, aren’t you?” Loki laughs, shards of ice against your skin. “You and your caring heart, you want to fix me, rehabilitate me; I’m just another little project for you, hm?”

“Know what? Never mind. I don’t give a shit about you.” You pull yourself to your feet, plastering a smile on your face and pointing a finger at the door. “Now get out of my life. I’m done helping you, I’m done.”

“You and I,” he laughs, a finger gesturing between the two of you, “we’re breaking up. This is over. Robert Laing deserves better.”

Okay, this is all a joke. Sure, Loki, we can laugh about it.

Smacking his hands on the desk once more, he smiles and pushes himself off, spinning on his heel with a swish of his lab coat.

“Oh, and sympathy?” He turns when he reaches the doorway, halfway out and turning to throw one last grin your way. “Not a good colour on you.”

Up goes your middle finger—and he laughs once more.

The last glimpse of Dr. Laing—Loki—you get is him striding away from you, lab coat fluttering around him, little droplets of dark red starting to stain through the white fabric covering his back.

The illusions must be fading.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

feel free to send me ideas!!

if you enjoyed…what if i linked my venmo…haha no i jest…no obligations….just in case….u don’t have to ha ha…….unless… ??

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys @highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo @tonakings @shinisenko @tinchentitri @nildespirandum @thefallenbibliophilequote

[96harmony96]

Chaapter 20

“Excuse me.” I pushed back from the table and searched for Lauren. I saw her at the bar and went to her.

she was just turning away from the bartender with two glasses in her hands when I intercepted her. I took my drink and gulped it down, my teeth aching as the cubes of ice knocked against them.

“Camila—” There was a soft note of chastisement in her voice.

“I’m leaving,” I said flatly, stepping around her to set my empty glass on the bar top. “I don’t consider that running, because I’m telling you in advance and giving you the option of coming with me.”

she exhaled harshly and I could see that she understood my mood. she knew I knew. “I can’t leave.”

I turned away.

she caught my arm. “You know I can’t stay if you go. You’re upset over nothing, Camila.”

“Nothing?” I stared at where her hand gripped me. “I warned you I get upset and jealous. This time, you’ve given me good reason.”

“Warning me is supposed to excuse you when you get ridiculous about it?” Her face was relaxed, her voice low and calm. No one looking from a distance would pick up on the tension between us, but it was there in her eyes. Burning lust and icy fury. she was so good at putting those two together.

“Who’s ridiculous? What about Daniel, the personal trainer? Or Martin, a member of my stepfamily?” I leaned closer and whispered, “I’ve never fucked either of them, let alone agreed to a marriage! I sure as hell don’t talk to them every damn day!”

Abruptly, she caught me by the waist and hauled me up tight against her. “You need to be fucked now,” she hissed in my ear, nipping the lobe with her teeth. “I shouldn’t have made us wait.”

“Maybe you were planning ahead,” I shot back. “Saving it up in case an old flame popped back into your life, one you’d prefer to screw instead.”

Lauren tossed back her drink; then she secured me to her side with a steely arm around my waist and led me through the crowd to the door. she pulled her smartphone out of her pocket and ordered the limo brought around. By the time we reached the street, the long, sleek car was there. Lauren pushed me through the door Angus held open and told him, “Drive around the block until I say otherwise.”

Then she slid in directly behind me, so closely I could feel her breath against my bare back. I scrambled toward the opposite seat, determined to get away from her….

“Stop,” she snapped.

I sank to my knees on the carpeted floor, breathing hard. I could run to the ends of the earth and I still wouldn’t be able to escape the fact that Corinne Giroux had to be better for Lauren than I was. She was calm and cool, a soothing presence even to me—the person freaking out over the unwelcome fact of her existence. My worst nightmare.

Her hand twisted into my loose hair, restraining me. Her spread legs surrounded mine, her grip tightening so that my head was pulled back gently to touch her shoulder. “I’m going to give you what we both need, camila. We’re going to fuck as long as it takes to dull the edge enough to get through dinner. And you’re not going to worry about Corinne, because while she’s inside the ballroom, I’ll be deep inside you.”

“Yes,” I whispered, licking dry lips.

“You forget who submits, Camila,” she said gruffly. “I’ve given up control for you. I’ve bent and adjusted for you. I’ll do anything to keep you and make you happy. But I can’t be tamed or topped. Don’t mistake indulgence for weakness.”

I swallowed hard, my blood on fire for her. “Lauren…”

“Reach up with both hands and hold on to the grab handle above the window. Don’t let go until I tell you, understand?”

I did as she ordered, pushing my hands through the leather loop. As my grip secured, my body sparked to life, making me aware of how right she was about what I needed. she knew me so well, this lover of mine.

Shoving her hands into my bodice, Lauren squeezed my full, aching breasts. When she rolled and tugged my nipples, my head lolled against her, the tension leaving my body in a rush.

“God.” she nuzzled her mouth against my temple. “It’s so perfect when you give yourself over to me like that…all at once, as if it’s a huge relief.”

“Fuck me,” I begged, needing the connection. “Please.”

Releasing my hair, she reached under my dress and pulled my panties down my thighs. Her jacket flew past me to land on the seat; then her hand pushed between my legs from the front. she growled at finding me wet and swollen. “You were made for me, Camila. You can’t go long without me inside you.”

Still she primed me, running her skilled fingers through my cleft, spreading the moisture over my clit and the lips of my sex. she pushed two fingers into me, scissoring them, preparing me for the thrust of her long, thick cock.

“Do you want me, Lauren?” I asked hoarsely, needing to ride her thrusting fingers, but hampered by how far I had to reach to grab the strap.

“More than my next breath.” Her lips moved over my throat and the top of my shoulder, the warm velvet of her tongue sliding seductively across my skin. “I can’t go long without you either, Camila. You’re an addiction…my obsession…”

Her teeth bit gently into my flesh, conveying her animal need with a rough sound of desire. All the while she fucked me with her fingers, her other hand massaging my clit, making me come again and again from the simultaneous stimulation.

“Lauren!” I gasped, when my damp fingers began to slip from the leather.

Her hands left me and I heard the erotic rasp of her zipper lowering. “Let go and lie on your back with your legs spread.”

I moved to the seat and stretched along it, offering my body to her in quivering anticipation. Her gaze met mine, her face briefly lit by a passing swathe of headlights.

“Don’t be afraid.” she came over me, setting her weight onto me with excruciating care.

“I’m too horny to be scared.” I caught her and pulled my body up to press against the hardness of her. “I want you.”

Her cock head nudged against the lips of my sex. With a flex of her hips, she pushed into me, her breath hissing just as mine did at the searing connection. I went lax against the seat, my fingers barely clinging to her lean waist.

“I love you,” I whispered, watching her face as she began to move. Every inch of my skin burned as if from the sun, and my chest was so tight with longing and emotion that it was hard to breathe. “And I need you, Lauren.”

“You have me,” she whispered, her cock sliding in and out. “I couldn’t be more yours.”

I quivered and tensed, my hips meeting her relentlessly measured drives. I climaxed with a breathless cry, shuddering as the ecstasy rippled through my sex, milking her until she grunted and started powering into me.

“Camila.”

I rocked into her ferocious lunges, urging her on. she clutched at me, riding me hard and fast. My head thrashed and I moaned shamelessly, loving the feel of her, that decadent sensation of being possessed and ruthlessly pleasured.

We were wild for each other, fucking like feral beasts, and I was so turned on by our primal lust I thought I’d die from the orgasm building inside me.

“You’re so good at this, Lauren. So good…”

she gripped my buttock and yanked me up to meet her next thrust, hitting the end of me, forcing a gasp of pleasure/pain from my throat. I came again, clenching down hard on her.

“Ah, God. Camila.” With a serrated groan, she erupted violently, flooding me with her heat. Pinning my hips, she ground against me, emptying herself as deep in me as she could get.

When she finished, she sucked in a harsh breath and gathered my hair in her hands, kissing the side of my damp throat. “I wish you knew what you do to me. I wish I could tell you.”

I held her tightly. “I can’t help it that I’m stupid over you. It’s just too much, Lauren. It’s—”

“—uncontrollable.” she started over again, thrusting rhythmically. Leisurely. As if we had all the time in the world. Thickening and lengthening with each push and pull.

“And you need control.” I lost my breath on a particularly masterful stroke.

“I need you, Camila.” Her gaze was fierce on my face as she moved inside me. “I need you.”

Lauren didn’t leave my side, or allow me to leave her, the rest of the evening. she kept her right hand linked with my left all the way through dinner, once again choosing to eat one-handed rather than release her hold on me.

Corinne—who’d taken a seat on the other side of her at our table—gave her a curious look. “I seem to remember you being right-handed.”

“I still am,” she said, lifting our joined hands from under the table and kissing my fingertips. I felt foolish and insecure when she did that—and conscious of Corinne’s scrutiny.

Unfortunately, the romantic gesture didn’t keep her from talking to Corinne throughout the meal, not me—which left me feeling fidgety and unhappy. I saw more of the back of lauren’s head than her face.

“At least it’s not chicken.”

I turned my head toward the man sitting beside me. I’d been so focused on trying to eavesdrop on Lauren’s conversation that I hadn’t paid any mind to our tablemates.

“I like chicken,” I said. And I had liked the tilapia served for dinner—I’d cleaned my plate.

“Not rubberized, certainly.” He grinned and suddenly looked much younger than his pure white hair would suggest. “Ah, there’s a smile,” he murmured. “And it’s a beautiful one.”

“Thank you.” I introduced myself.

“Dr. Terrence Lucas,” he said. “But I prefer Terry.”

“Dr. Terry. It’s lovely to meet you.”

He smiled again. “Just Terry, Camila.”

Over the course of the few minutes we’d spoken, I’d come to believe Dr. Lucas wasn’t a whole lot older than me, just prematurely gray. Aside from that, his face was handsome and unlined, his green eyes intelligent and kind. I revised my guesstimate of his age to be mid-to-late thirties.

“You look as bored as I feel,” he said. “These events raise a considerable amount of money for the shelter, but they can be dull. Would you like to accompany me to the bar? I’ll buy you a drink.”

Beneath the table, I tested Lauren’s grip by flexing my hand. Hers tightened.

“What are you doing?” she murmured.

Looking over my shoulder, I saw her watching me. Then I watched her gaze lift as Dr. Lucas stood behind me. Lauren’s gaze noticeably cooled.

“She’s going to alleviate the boredom of being ignored, Jauregui,” Terry said, setting his hands on the back of my chair, “by spending time with someone who’s more than happy to pay attention to such a beautiful woman.”

I was immediately uncomfortable, aware of the crackling animosity between the two. I tugged on her hand, but Lauren wouldn’t release me.

“Walk away, Terry,” Lauren warned.

“You’ve been so preoccupied with Mrs. Giroux, you didn’t even notice when I sat at your table.” Terry’s smile took on an edge. “Camila. Shall we?”

“Don’t move, Camila.”

I shivered at the ice in Lauren’s voice, but felt stung enough to say, “It’s not his fault he has a point.”

Lauren’s grip tightened painfully. “Not now.”

Terry’s gaze moved to my face. “You don’t have to tolerate her talking to you that way. All the money in the world doesn’t give anyone the right to order you around.”

Infuriated and horribly embarrassed, I looked at Lauren. “Crossfire.”

I wasn’t sure I could use the safeword outside of the bedroom, but she released me as if I’d burned her. I shoved my chair back and threw my napkin onto my plate. “Excuse me. Both of you.”

With my clutch in hand, I walked away from the table, my stride easy and smooth. I made a beeline toward the restrooms, intending to freshen my makeup and collect myself, but then I saw the lighted exit sign and went with my urge to bail.

I pulled out my smartphone when I hit the sidewalk and texted Lauren; Not running. Just leaving.

I managed to hail a passing cab, and headed home to nurse my anger.

I was jonesing for a hot bath and a bottle of wine when I reached my apartment. Shoving my key into the lock, I turned the knob and stepped into a porn video.

In the few shocked seconds it took for my brain to register what I was seeing, I stood riveted on the threshold, flooding the hallway behind me with blaring technopop. There were so many body parts involved, I had time to hastily slam the door behind me before I pieced them all together. One woman was spread-eagled on the floor. Another woman’s face was in her crotch. Cary was banging the hell out of her while another man was drilling him in the ass.

I threw my head back and screamed bloody murder, completely fed up with everyone in my life. And because I was competing with the sound system, I ripped off one of my heels and threw it in that direction. The CD skipped, which jolted the ménage a quatre in progress on my living room floor into awareness of my presence. I limped over and shut off the volume; then faced the lot of them.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” I snapped. “Right now.”

“Who the hell is that?” the redhead at the bottom of the pile asked. “Your wife?”

There was a brief flash of embarrassment and guilt on Cary’s face, and then he shot me a cocky smile. “My roommate. There’s room for more, baby girl.”

“Cary Taylor. Don’t push me,” I warned. “It’s really, really not a good night.”

The dark-haired male on top disengaged from Cary and stood, sauntering toward me. As he got closer, I saw his hazel eyes were unnaturally dilated and the pulse in his neck was throbbing viciously. “I can make it better,” he offered with a leer.

“Back the fuck up.” I adjusted my stance, preparing to ward him off physically if necessary.

“Leave her alone, Ian,” Cary snapped, pushing to his feet.

“Come on, baby girl,” Ian coaxed, making me sick by using Cary’s pet name for me. “You need a good time. Let me show you one.”

One minute he was inches in front of me, the next he was sailing into the couch with a scream. Lauren moved into place between me and the others, vibrating with fury. “Take it to your room, Cary,” he bit out. “Or take it somewhere else.”

Ian was squealing on my sofa, his nose spraying blood despite the two hands he tried to staunch it with.

Cary snatched his jeans off the floor. “You’re not my fucking mother, Camila.”

I sidestepped around Lauren. “Wasn’t screwing up with Trey enough of a fucking lesson for you, you idiot?”

“This isn’t about Trey!”

“Who’s Trey?” The bottle blonde asked as she got to her feet. When she caught a good look at Lauren, she visibly preened, showing off an admittedly pretty body.

Her efforts earned her a glance so disdainfully dismissive and unimpressed that she finally had the grace to blush and cover herself with a slinky gold lamé dress she picked up off the floor. And because I was in a mood, I said, “Don’t take it personally. He prefers blondes.”

The look Lauren shot me was lethal. I’d never seen her look so livid. she was literally vibrating with suppressed violence.

Frightened by that glare, I took an involuntary step back. she cursed viciously and shoved both of her hands through her hair.

Suddenly bone weary and desperately disappointed with the men in my life, I turned away. “Get this mess out of my house, Cary.”

I headed down the hallway, kicking off my other heel en route. I was out of my dress before I reached my bathroom and in the shower less than a minute beyond that. I stayed out of the range of the spray until the water warmed, and then I stood directly beneath it. Too tired to stand for long, I sank to the floor and just sat beneath the stream with my eyes closed and my arms wrapped around my knees.

“Camila.”

I cringed when I heard Lauren’s voice, and tucked into an even tighter ball.

“Goddamn it,” she snapped. “You piss me off worse than anyone else I know.”

I looked at her through the veil of my wet hair. she was pacing the length of my bathroom, her jacket shed somewhere and her shirt untucked. “Go home, Lauren.”

she halted and shot me an incredulous look. “I’m not fucking leaving you here. Cary’s lost his damned mind! That amped-up asshole was seconds away from putting his hands on you when I got here.”

“Cary wouldn’t have let that happen. But either way, I can’t deal with him and you at the same time.” I didn’t want to deal with either of them, actually. I just wanted to be alone.

“Then you’ll just deal with me.”

I scooped my hair back from my face with an impatient swipe of my hand. “Oh? I’m supposed to make you the priority?”

she recoiled as if I’d hit her. “I was under the impression we were both each other’s priorities.”

“Yeah, I thought that, too. Until tonight.”

“Jesus. Will you drop it with Corinne already?” she spread her arms wide. “I’m here with you, aren’t I? I barely said good-bye to her because I was chasing after you. Again.”

“Fuck you. Don’t do me any favors.”

Lauren lunged into the shower fully dressed. she yanked me to my feet and kissed me. Hard. Her mouth devoured mine, her hands gripping my upper arms to hold me in place.

But I didn’t soften this time. I didn’t give in. Even when she tried coaxing me with lush, suggestive licks.

“Why?” she muttered, her lips sliding down to my throat. “Why are you driving me insane?”

“I don’t know what your problem is with Dr. Lucas, and I honestly don’t give a shit. But he was right. Corinne got way too much of your attention tonight. You pretty much ignored me during dinner.”

“It’s impossible for me to ignore you, Camila.” Her face was hard and tight. “If you’re in the same room with me, I don’t see anyone else.”

“Funny. Every time I looked at you, you were looking at her.”

“This is stupid.” she released me and shoved the wet hair out of her face. “You know how I feel about you.”

“Do I? You want me. You need me. But do you love Corinne?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. No.” she shut the water off, caging me to the glass with both arms. “You want me to tell you I love you, Camila? Is that what this is about?”

My stomach cramped as if she’d struck me with the full force of her fist. I’d never felt that kind of pain before, hadn’t known it existed. My eyes burned and I ducked under her arm before I embarrassed myself by crying. “Go home, Lauren. Please.”

“I am home.” she caught me from behind and buried her face in my soaked hair. “I’m with you.”

I struggled to get free, but I was too wiped out. Physically. Emotionally. The tears came in a torrent and I couldn’t stop them. And I hated crying in front of anyone. “Go away. Please.”

“I love you, Camila. Of course I do.”

“Oh my God.” I kicked at her, flailing. Anything to get away from the person who’d become a massive source of pain and misery. “I don’t want your fucking pity. I just want you to go away.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t. Camila, stop fighting. Listen to me.”

“Everything you’re saying hurts, Lauren.”

“It’s not the right word, Camila,” she pressed on stubbornly, her lips at my ear. “That’s why I haven’t said it. It’s not the right word for you and what I feel for you.”

“Shut up. If you care about me at all, you’ll just shut up and go away.”

“I’ve been loved before—by Corinne, by other women…But what the hell do they know about me? What the hell are they in love with when they don’t know how fucked up I am? If that’s love, it’s nothing compared to what I feel for you.”

I stilled, trembling, my gaze on the mirror’s reflection of my mascara-smeared face and bedraggled wet hair next to Lauren’s ravaged beauty. Her features were overcome by volatile emotion as she wrapped herself tightly around me. We looked all wrong for each other.

And yet I understood the alienation of being around others who couldn’t really see you or chose not to. I’d felt the self-loathing that came with being a fraud, portraying an image of what you wished you could be but weren’t. I’d lived with the fear that the people you loved might turn away from you if they ever got to know the true person hidden inside.

“Lauren—”

Her lips touched my temple. “I think I loved you the moment I saw you. Then we made love that first time in the limo and it became something else. Something more.”

“Whatever. You cut me off that night and left me behind to take care of Corinne. How could you, Lauren?”

she released me only long enough to scoop me up and carry me over to where my bathrobe hung from a hook on the back of the door. she bundled me up; then had me sit on the edge of the tub while she went to the sink and pulled my makeup removal wipes out of the drawer. Crouching in front of me, she stroked the cloth over my cheek.

“When Corinne called during the advocacy dinner, it was the perfect time to make me do something stupid.” Her gaze was soft and warm on my tear-streaked face. “You and I had just made love, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. I told her I was busy and that I was with someone, and when I heard the pain in her voice, I knew I had to deal with her so I could move forward with you.”

“I don’t understand. You left me behind for her. How does that move us forward?”

“I screwed up with Corinne, Camila.” she tilted my chin back to rub at my raccoon eyes. “I met her my first year at Columbia. I noticed her, of course. She’s beautiful and sweet, and never had an unkind word to say about anyone. When she pursued me, I let myself be caught and she became my first consensual sexual experience.”

“I hate her.”

That made her mouth curve slightly.

“I’m not kidding, Lauren. I’m sick with jealousy right now.”

“It was just sex with her, angel. As raw as you and I fuck, it’s still making love. Every time, from the very first time. You’re the only one who’s ever gotten to me that way.”

I heaved out a breath. “Okay. I’m marginally better.”

she kissed me. “I guess you could say we dated. We were exclusive sexually and we often ended up going to the same places as a couple. Still, when she told me she loved me, I was surprised. And flattered. I cared about her. I enjoyed spending time with her.”

“Still do, apparently,” I muttered.

“Keep listening.” she chastised me with a tap of her finger to the end of my nose. “I thought maybe I might love her, too, in my own way…the only way I knew how. I didn’t want her to be with anyone else. So I said yes when she proposed.”

I jerked back to look at her. “She proposed?”

“Don’t look so shocked,” she said wryly. “You’re bruising my ego.”

Relief flooded me in a rush that made me dizzy. I threw myself at her, hugging her as tight as I could.

“Hey.” Her returning embrace was just as fierce. “You okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m getting there.” I pulled back and cupped her jaw in my hand. “Keep going.”

“I said yes for all the wrong reasons. After two years of hanging out, we’d never spent a full night together. Never talked about any of the things I talk to you about. She didn’t know me, not really, and yet I convinced myself that being loved at all was something to hang on to. Who else was going to do it right, if not her?”

she moved her attention to my other eye, cleaning away the black streaks. “I think she was hoping that being engaged would take us to a different level. Maybe I’d open up more. Maybe we’d stay the night at the hotel—which she thought was romantic, by the way—instead of calling it an early night because of classes in the morning. I don’t know.”

I thought it sounded terribly lonely. My poor Lauren. she’d been alone for so long. Maybe her whole life.

“And maybe when she broke it off after a year,” she went on, “she was hoping that would kick-start things, too. That I’d make a bigger effort to keep her. Instead, I was relieved because I’d started to realize it was going to be impossible to share a home with her. What excuse was I going to come up with to sleep in separate rooms and have my own space?”

“You never considered telling her?”

“No.” she shrugged. “Until you, I didn’t consider my past an issue. Yes, it affected certain ways I did things, but everything had its place and I wasn’t unhappy. In fact, I thought I had a comfortable and uncomplicated life.”

“Oh, boy.” My nose wrinkled. “Hello, Mr. Comfortable. I’m Miss Complicated.”

Her grin flashed. “Never a dull moment.”

[theyungrose]

Be Good ( Roman Reigns X OC)

Chapter 3 

Spite.

I had reverted to tearing our pictures down from the walls, my sanity reduced to screams in the dead of night. I cursed his name to the heavens and back, wished the worst of events, and yet I still didn’t feel any better. 

I was broken.

Never in my life had I felt such pain, 24 hours in a day. I woke up in the morning and felt nothing in my soul, no happiness, no purpose, no love. I moved through the day lifelessly; of course he hadn’t thought anything of telling our close friends and his family that we were breaking our engagement, leaving me to answer all the questions they only ever save for the girlfriend. 

Yes, I was okay.

(No I wasn’t.)

It was mutual, we just kinda fell apart I guess.

(Really?) 

And then they say “Well I bet he misses you just as much as you miss him right now.” 

I sincerely doubt that. 

Anger. Rage. 

Questions. 

How could he do this to me? 

To us? 

What, you court me for nearly a year and a half; not counting the two years we were friends. I met your mother, your father who never meets “any of the girls you bring around”; his words not mine. We traveled everywhere together, we bought each other things we hadn’t even bought for ourselves first. When my brother died, when you got sick, when there was no one else in the world for us to count on, you told me we had each other. Always. For what? For you to wake up one day, turn on your side and decide you don’t want to be with me anymore? That it just wasn’t going to work?  

For a month your child lived inside my stomach. 

Does that not matter to you? 

Emptiness. 

What was I to do with my life now? The past two years were the best of my life, and now I was expected just move along as if they never existed. As if we never existed. 

That’s enough to drive any woman mad. 

I had to get away. 

The cold Denver air greeted me warmly as I stepped through the sliding doors of the airport into its little snow flurries. It was nostalgic for a second, until a loud car horn ripped me from my thoughts. Stepping out from her gray minivan was my childhood friend, Lauren. You could tell she didn’t like the cold from the way she kept the driver’s door open and stayed close to it, clutching her hoodie tight around her arms. 

Oh yeah and she said this.

“Girl get in this car I’m losing heat ‘cuz of you!” 

I snickered rushing over to her ride with my suitcases rolling loudly behind me.

“Daydreaming and shit.... aye aye aye what’s all this?”

Lauren motioned to my stuff with a certain... well stank, look on her face. 

“I ain’t say you could stay with me.” 

I was getting too cold to respond to her, and being that I was putting the bags in the trunk by myself, I chose to ignore her for the time being. 

“Relax creature I bought myself a hotel for the night, that’s where you’re driving me first before you drag me to that barn you live in.” 

Lauren scoffed and slammed the trunk closed, nearly cutting off my fingers in the process.

“Whatever hoe, I ain’t miss ya ass anyways.” 

The ride through the city was much calmer; we talked as actual friends do about her life down here, old memories, bullies who got fat, shy girls who have babies, and all the other drama I’d missed out on. Thankfully, she didn’t seem too interested of why I had suddenly left my dream and sunny Florida weather to come back to Denver, but I had a feeling somehow she already knew. 

“Aaliyah... you sure this is your hotel girl?”

“What you mean?” 

“It’s $50 valet parking child! The Marriott don’t got them prices.” 

I laughed motioning for her to pull into the grandeur driveway where a valet man was waiting. 

“Do you need help bringing your stuff in?”

“No I think I’m fine it’s only two suitcases.” 

The valet went to speak but Lauren poked my arm roughly to get my attention first.

“Girl for $50 you better tell that man to bring in your bags on his head.” 

“Lauren stop being extra. I don’t need him to help me, just bring the car around to the street so you don’t have to pay the $55 sitting fee.” 

*******

Lauren’s family greeted me with hugs, hospitality, and a beautifully home-cooked dinner; and when everyone went up to their rooms to sleep, Lauren blessed me with a much needed guilty indulgence. 

If you never forget how to ride a bicycle, then you never forget how to smoke weed either.

“Are you freezing yet?” 

I watched her through the large puff of smoke I exhaled, giggling to herself near the corner. I snickered too and shook my head, motioning for her to take the blunt from me. Our hands sparked electricity when they touched and we both laughed so loud someone upstairs turned on their light. 

“Oh, my mom and my sister said you’re really pretty.”

My cheeks were flushed red as I leaned my head back against the fence. The weed had me lost in the galaxy of stars above me, so far yet they seemed so close. It felt like my eyes were stars themselves.

“Awwe, tell her I said thank you... and thank your whole family for being so nice to me. Oh and tell them they cooking is the bomb...” 

Lauren was almost red herself with laughter as she passed the blunt back to me. It was so nice to know that she had a pretty smile, I never saw her smile once when we were kids. Always... serious. 

“You know... I wasn’t going to say anything but... I really expected you to ask bro.”

Lauren looked up from her phone completely clueless. A face of total innocence and hopeless oblivion. 

“Ask you what?” 

“About why I came to visit you... you know all of a sudden? I was with my fiancee and we broke off our engagement last week and I thought you would ask me about it.. but I guess you didn’t know.”

“No I knew.” 

I scoffed shaking my head as I crushed the dead paper into the grass.

“And you didn’t ask?”

Lauren shook her head as she stood up and walked towards the cooler sitting a few feet away from us. 

“It’s not my business to ask. I knew about your break up with Roman Reigns, I watch y’all wrestle together on Monday Night Raw; that’s the only reason my mom let a stranger come up in here because I told her you were famous.” 

She sat down beside me on the grass and placed a water bottle between my feet. 

“But despite all that, what happened between you and your man is none of my business to ask. For all I care you came up here because you suddenly missed my face.” 

I looked at her completely shocked. Dumbfounded. Amazed at this woman that was so conscious and compassionate of someone else’s struggles and privacy, it was so well-mannered it almost felt misplaced. So foregone from the values of this current society. 

“Well do you want to know? Like what happened? For the first time I actually don’t mind telling it.” 

“I only want to hear what matters.”

“Okay and which one is that, if I’m okay or if he took all his money with him?”

“Nope. What I want to know, is what are you going to do now?”

For a moment I kept my eyes trained on her shoulder; not thinking, just frozen in existence. Tears fell from my eyes unintentionally, but still I couldn’t speak. 

To answer that question would force me to swallow the harsh truth that this was reality; one I still hadn’t come to terms with. 

“You don’t know do you?” 

Without answering I just shook my head, and as her arms began to spread I fell weightlessly into her chest. A fit of emotion overtook me as I sobbed and trembled in her embrace, pain pierced my heart like needles yet somehow I felt comforted. It was the first time I hadn’t cried by myself in weeks. 

“It’s okay Aaliyah... it’s okay. I’m here for you love.” 

“He just left me.... left me like I was nothing. I feel so ugly. I feel worthless, like trash. I just want to know what I did wrong Lauren... what did I do that was so wrong, so terrible that one day he woke up and didn’t want me anymore? Where did all that love go? When did he stop loving me? Why did he stop loving me?”

Lauren’s arms held me a little tighter, and slowly she began to rock back and forth, like a mother would soothe the cries of her baby. 

“...What’s wrong with me?”

I felt warm supple skin touch my forehead and rest there for a while before they were replaced with her cheek. Never did I feel so comforted in the arms of another woman, she was so warm and soft. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you friend. People fall apart sometimes is the reality of it really... we never know the reason for half the things people do. I can’t imagine the pain you’re in, but Aaliyah I promise this won’t beat you. You’re stronger than this. This is just another storm.”

I sighed, hiding my face further into her chest. 

“Can I stay here the-”

“You can stay here for as long as you need to sweet pea. You’ll have a home here until your wings are no longer broken... and you’re ready to fly.”

Through my tears I found a small smile, finally returning her embrace as I wrapped my arms around her waist. Again she kissed the top of my forehead gently and sighed.

“Now let’s roll up another one.” 

Lauren Riley 

[ficsnroses]

Perhaps - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Hi everyone! This fic is a bit different than what I’ve done in the past. Let me know if you like longer fics like this, or if you prefer the shorter and more fluffier ones. I love your feedback! I really hope you guys like this, it felt a bit out of my comfort zone.

Word count : 3884

Warnings : Smut? Kind of? a little? I didn't mean to write smut but I think I accidentally may have...

Requested : No

Summary : After becoming good friends on set, Keanu and Y/N end up in bed together, leaving Y/N scared for which way their relationship may turn when Keanu wakes.

Perhaps your ambitiousness was the quality that got the best of you. Being assertive and head strong were normally auctioned off as rather desirable qualities. Maybe things would be different if you’d slowed down, looked at things from a more sedate, deliberate standpoint. Perhaps, your mother was right on that overcast afternoon back home, the gray undertones of the silver kissed sky promised a good rain. She reluctantly handed you your last bag, the fine lines and wrinkles more prominent in recent times around her shuttered eyes. She had her doubts over your instantaneous move to LA, it killed her to even dream you may have your ambitions broken.

Perhaps, if you slowed down, thought things through, cautiously evaluated the consequences, you would have saved yourself the sorrow. Perhaps you wouldn’t be sitting on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands, your chest and lower half covered with nothing but a faint white bed sheet, quietly weeping melancholy tears. The bitter, crisp air engulfing the room pricked at your nude shoulders. It felt almost glacial, or perhaps that was the feeling flooding your uncertain body. You glanced wearily over your shoulder, and saw Keanu still sleeping, his bare chest rising and falling in harmony with his breathing. His raven locks rest upon his face, a few strands cascading over his eyelids, slightly rising and falling each time he breathed out his nose. He looked at peace, for now at least. But perhaps, he would awake soon. And perhaps, peace would be replaced with hesitance. Perhaps. That darn perhaps. Anxiety inducing, dreadful, appalling perhaps. 

Your move to LA had been tough at first and really pushed you to your limits, but you weren’t complaining. Constant determination and effort had landed you a career opportunity of working on the set of John Wick Chapter 2. Yourself and a few other people around your age had earned jobs as assistant directors. It sounded like a big role, a job demanding leadership, however, you thought otherwise most of the time. It almost felt as an internship. The experience would open numerous doors for you however, and it was a hands on way of discovering movie making technique and process. The job consisted of arranging logistics, preparing daily call sheets, checking cast and crew, and maintaining order on the set. Your strong work ethic and natural niche for determination had lead many of the other AD’s to not be so fond of you. You didn’t mind though, Hollywood was competitive and you were here to make a mark.

When you weren’t working on set, you’d often be left alone. You were rather shy and hadn’t made any friends on set yet. You enjoyed your own company, rather fond of indulging in your thoughts, taking a mental break from the demanding reality of the world. At lunch breaks, the cast and crew working on principal photography would gather in the designated rest area, where people would branch off into groups, socializing and enjoying their lunches together. You however, sat alone at whatever table wasn’t occupied. Sometimes you would eat quietly all alone, or sometimes you would set your mind adrift in a book while eating. It all depended on the day and your mood.

Keanu had been noticing you since the first day. He would watch the way you poured your heart and soul into your work. He admired that, he didn’t see it from any of the other ADs. He would see you sitting alone at lunch every day, often walking by you to sit with the people he knew and was familiar with. He would watch the way you would get so invested in your novel, the way you would tuck your long strands of hair that framed your face behind your ears, your brows furrowing. He was quite intrigued by you, almost fascinated. He was drawn to you in an unexplainable way, as if his soul had somehow read yours and wanted a taste of the serenity your aura gave off. After a week of production, he had finally mustered up the courage to brush past your table, finally approaching you one on one for the first time.

       “Remembrance of Things Past, I’m quite fond of that novel myself.” His voice caught you off guard. You’d known exactly who’s voice it was before even looking up, it just surprised you it was filling your ears so close, directed at no one but you.

You glanced up and saw him smiling down, his tray full of food in his large hands, still in his costume from filming. He had a few cuts and gashes on his forehead and cheek from makeup. Had this not been a movie set, it would have been quite concerning.

       “Yeah, it’s a good read. I’m trying to get through them all actually, although its proving to be quite the task.” You chuckled, your soft voice had a very calming effect on him. It was almost as a sweet break from the chaotic environment surrounding.

       “It took me a while, but I got through them. Worth it, trust me.” He smiled back. “Is this seat taken?” he gestured with his free hand to the seat in front of you.

       “No no, it’s not!” you replied quickly, almost not believing the words he had just asked.

       “May I?” he asked politely. “Of course, my pleasure.” You said with just as much politeness, almost being formal. You weren’t sure how to act, Keanu Reeves, the star of the movie had asked to join you for lunch.

      “Y/N, right? I’m Keanu. Nice to meet you.” he held his hand out for you to shake. “I must say, I admire the work you do here on set, we’re really in good hands.” He spoke as you shook hands, smiling at each other, relaxing eventually in each others presence. You noticed the other AD’s and many other crew members turn their heads your way, just as surprised, almost jealous that Keanu had sat with you alone. You chatted and got to know each other a little better that day before returning to set. You were just as surprized when the next day, Keanu ended up asking to sit with you once again. Your company was so refreshing to him, like a breath of fresh air after being inside walls too long.

Keanu and yourself ended up becoming quite good friends from that day forward. You would sit together every single day at lunch breaks, and often chat or hang out on down time between takes. You managed to make each other laugh a whole awful lot. When the set was packed up for the day, Keanu would help you with your stuff, walking you back to your car to make sure you were safe. He would ask you if you needed a ride every time, even though he knew you had transportation home. It was a sweet gesture, it showed you his caring and compassionate side. He was very gentle with you, a complete contrast to the character he was playing on set. He would let you go with a quick hug, and a “get home safe, Y/N.” before waving goodbye and walking back to his car. You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a slight flutter in your chest every time he hugged you goodnight, sending you off. But it was best you keep those thoughts at bay, Keanu was just such a gentle, kind, loving personality. It was practically impossible to not feel warmth after just a glance his way.

On Keanu’s walks back to his motorcycle after dropping you off to your car, he would shove his hands in his pockets, reminiscing back on the day’s work. He often found you at the center of his thoughts, the moments you’d share together being a prominent, radiating light out of the sea of everything else. He felt for the first time in a while that he had someone to confide in, someone to relieve the stress of life with. He felt something there. He felt something for sure.

On a Friday afternoon, you and Keanu sat at your regular table as always, chatting away, laughing over Keanu’s slip up during one of his action sequences earlier that day.  The rest of the crew didn’t find it so amusing, but you and Keanu were left gasping for air, giggling away tremendously thereafter. It was almost like you had a mental connection that just made you sync when you were together. To you, it was nice to have a friend. A real, true friend. Your first and only friend in LA actually. He had made the journey so much more bearable, and you couldn’t be more thankful. You knew internally you were longing for something more with him, but you constantly pushed the thoughts away, knowing the bond was too special to you to have anything determine otherwise.

Keanu shoved his spoon into your cup of yogurt, taking a bite into his mouth. You two often shared food. It almost made you feel…closer.

      “Keanu you know that’s my favourite! Leave me some.” You chuckled, playfully shoving his hand away. Keanu had suggested he take you on a bike ride after pack up that night, the lovely California weather, complied with the smell of fresh orange fields and the lavender sunsets were a magical sight he wanted you to experience. You had agreed, it was the weekend and a bike ride sounded like a good way to replenish.

That evening after pack up, Keanu held his arm out for you to take as usual, only this time, he’d be leading you to his bike, taking you with him. He’d dreamt of the scenario often, wishing he could whirl you away to experience the pure bliss of the wind in your hair, and the unexplainable calmness, complete ecstasy a bike ride brought him. He knew how stressful working on set had been for you, and he wanted to help relieve you of some tension.

Sitting behind Keanu with your arms wrapped securely around his waist felt like true security. You eventually found yourself resting your head on his back, your cheek brushed up against his muscles, your eyes closed, just relishing in the moment. He was radiating warm heat, it felt nice to be so close to him, so in touch. It almost left you wanting more.

Keanu felt very protective of you in that moment, as if a fragile doll rest upon him that he had to defend at all costs. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Eventually, he stopped the bike at his favourite spot, a cliff overlooking the beauteous California waters. He often came there to be alone, to take time to himself, to feel grounded. It was special to him to share it with someone else, almost as if he were taking a very vulnerable part of himself and handing it into your hands. He helped you off the bike, holding his hand out for you to take as he walked you to the edge where you could see the divine scenery.

      “Isn’t it breathtaking?” He smiled at you, before glancing down at your hand in his. It was a nice fit, he thought to himself.

      “It’s gorgeous. Thank you for showing me, Keanu.” You replied as you looked off into the distance, smiling to yourself. The sunset had cast a vibrant, golden hue on your face that left it sparkling in all the right places. Keanu couldn’t help but grin as he watched you. You both stood there for a few moments, sulking in a comfortable silence, just over looking the California horizon. A few moments later, you realized your hand was still tucked away tightly in Keanu’s grip. You looked down, and then up at his face. His eyes met yours, glowing. Keanu slightly inched you closer, and without thought, you moved into his touch, resting your head on his arm. You felt real at ease in that moment, a free wave of tranquility flowing through your veins engulfing your body in a tight embrace. Keanu moved his arm around you, pulling you closer, watching the distance. This is what it felt like to have certainty.

You glanced up at Keanu, so intoxicated by the view and his zen like presence. He looked down at you, and your eyes instantly locked. You both smiled, getting lost in each other. His eyes reminded you of two drops of coffee, with clouds of steamed milk surrounding. They gazed into yours, as if he was reading a map to a town he had already roamed in its entirety, as if in that moment, your collective energies gravitated together and ignited a whole universe, and you were the only ones in it. The only ones with a key. You both inched closer, and closer, his head moving down, your moving up to meet him hallway,

And then it happened. Your lips grazed against each other’s, and locked. You shifted, and put a hand on his shoulder, your other hand on his bicep. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist, managing to pull you in even closer, while his other hand caressed the back of your head, getting lost in your locks.

The kiss was sweet, passionate, and eventually became demanding. You moved both your arms around his neck, lightly ruffling his hair while indulging in his candied lips. Keanu eventually broke the kiss, pulling back only to rest his forehead against yours, as he looked you in the eyes once again, except now they were filled with need, with lust, with desire.

      “Would you wanna go back to my place? Maybe?” he breathed.

      “Yeah, I would like that.” You grinned, eyes glancing at his lips.

And with that, he took your hand and lead you back to his bike, helping you on, and zooming away, frantically racing home with your body close to his once again. He felt butterflies in his stomach anticipating what was to come next.

As you reached Keanu’s home, you held his arm as he lead you in. Instantly, as the door locked and he turned the lights on, your eyes met once again. You were stood about a foot apart, your arms at your sides. You both smiled, it felt almost as this was something you had both wanted for a while, something you never knew you were craving. After a moment or so, you inched forward, unable to resist any longer. He followed, attaching your bodies once again with a kiss. He bit at your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you cheerfully allowed. And with that, he suddenly picked you up, carrying you up to his bedroom where you both would spend the night, showing your admiration for each other in the closest, most vulnerable, most intimate way you could.

Keanu laid you down on his bed lightly, making sure you were comfortable. The dimly lit room was illuminating your skin perfectly, he thought you looked like an angel sent down from the heavens. He climbed on top of you gently, making sure to position his weight on either side of you so he wouldn’t crush you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down, missing his lips on yours. His hands connected to your waist, softly caressing your love handles, running his hands over them smoothly.

Your lips collided again, and Keanu toyed with the hem of your blouse.

      “May I?” his raspy voice spoke in a whisper, tugging on the bottom of your blouse, asking permission to remove it. It was an action that set your heart a flip. He was such a gentleman, no matter the situation. You had made it quite clear you wanted him as much as he wanted you, yet he still made sure you were definitely on the right page. He respected your boundaries, and that may have just made you want him even more.

      “Yeah” you smiled, gently grabbing his hand and helping him move the blouse over your breasts and off your body. He wasted no time in taking his own shirt off, and then moving his hands underneath your resting figure to undo the clasp of your bra. He delicately took it off your shoulders, exposing your bare chest to him. He admired you for a second, before connecting his lips to your neck, kissing each and every inch of the skin. He his wet kisses trailed down your shoulder, over the top of your breasts, dipping between your cleavage and disappearing down your stomach. He made sure he showed you just how grateful he was for you in that moment, how in awe he was with your mind, your body and your soul in that moment. You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him back up.

Within the next few moments, his pants were off as were yours, leaving you both skin to skin with each other, no barrier in between. Keanu reached over to his nightstand pulling out protection, and slipped it on himself in a swift motion.

      “Is this okay, Y/N?” he asked, lined up and ready to show you just how much he wanted you, his voice low, showing concern. He didn’t want to do anything you weren’t comfortable with; he wouldn’t dare want to hurt you in the slightest way.

You nodded frantically, ready to feel him in the most intimate, cherished way possible.

And with that, he slipped himself in, lips connecting to your neck leaving love bites. He moved passionately, his hand lacing in yours, your hands on his shoulders, gripping them tight. A few moans escaped your lust filled lips, feeling all of him.

The night was amorous, filled with heartfelt admiration and praise for each other. You both gave each other a part of yourselves that night. A part that perhaps, you would never get back.

It was now morning, and there you were, on the edge of the bed, anxiety ridden, with the evidence of last night sprawled over the floor in forms of your clothing. You had woken up with Keanu’s arm secured around you, snoozing away.

It was a confusing feeling, but you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that you may have made a mistake. Keanu was, after all, your co worker. It was a professional setting you worked in together. But he was also your closest friend here, in this town of a billion lights, but an unexplained solitude. Perhaps last night was just a moment of passion for him, a spur of the moment where he needed you, but perhaps, that was all it was. You couldn’t possibly be dreaming of a future with him, could you? He was a star, he had it all. People like him probably do this all the time when they’re lonely and need someone. Your pessimistic train of thought had got the best of you.

Keanu’s eyes opened, and he felt a dip on the edge of the bed. He instantly smiled to find you still on his bed, wrapped in nothing but his bed sheets, showing an indication of the love you shared the night prior. He reached forward and touched your arm.

      “Hey you…” He smiled. You didn’t reply, nor turn around.

Keanu moved towards you, approaching you from behind, and attached his hands to your waist. He began to leave soft kisses along your nude, exposed shoulder, running his hands up and down your sides, the same love evident in his gestures. That was when he heard you sniff.

      “Woah Y/N, are you okay sweetheart?” he whispered, slightly taken back, immediately moving himself away. “I’m so sorry Y/N, I shouldn’t have, I just thought…. I don’t know.” He spoke moving away, running a hand through his hair, thinking he had made you uncomfortable.

Your tears got heavier at that point. You felt like a fool. You weren’t even sure why you were crying, perhaps you were just scared that this was all only temporary. You felt you had tasted paradise last night, and to have that ripped away from you would have been sheer torment.

      “I’m sorry Y/N. Y/N? Is something wrong? Did I do something? I apologize if I did something wrong, I just thought we…you know…” he trailed off, still extremely concerned, his eyes filled with worry that he had been the cause for your tears. He gave you space, hoping not to further upset you.

      “Y/N can I…. can I touch you?” He asked cautiously.

You nodded in return, you wanted to feel him close. Perhaps it would be the remedy to calm you down.

He scooted over closer, and wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head repeatedly, whispering soothing dialogues in your ears.

      “You’ll be okay honey; you’ll be just fine. I’m right here. Talk to me, Y/N.” he whispered. You held onto him tighter, scared to open your mouth. You weren’t even sure what to say. What even was there to be said?

      “Keanu...” you started finally, with your shaky voice.

He looked you in the eyes, full of compassion, encouraging you to go on as he took your hand in his, rubbing it with his thumb.

      “Last night…we uh…it was special. It was really special. I just…” your eyes glanced around the room, unsure of the words to say next. You didn’t want to say more, perhaps this was your defence mechanism. To say it first, before he did. To reject. Before he did.

      “What about it, Y/N?” Keanu quietly questioned, suddenly feeling insecure. Had he not shown you properly what you meant to him? Had he not expressed his love to the best of its ability?

      “Last night was really special to me too, Y/N.” He glanced down at your intertwined hands.

      “Really?” you questioned, looking up at him.

      “Yeah… I felt something, I’ve always felt something here. I feel like there’s something that pulls me to you. I’m really not too good at the whole confessions thing but I uh…I can’t help but feel like this…feels right. Gosh I don’t even know if I’m making sense I just...” he trailed off, before you interrupted.

      “I uh, I agree. I feel something too; I see something in you that I admire. Your eyes connected finally, both feeling the confidence to stop staring away from each other.

      “If you’ll have me, I’m willing to try. You’re special, Y/N. I don’t want to lose that.” Keanu confessed.

You rest your head against his bare chest, pulling the sheet covering your figure higher up. He wrapped his arms around you again, resting his head on top of yours for the second time that morning. You traced the veins on his arms, admiring his figure and everything about him. His cologne from the night before still lingered on his porcelain skin. It felt nice to be close to him again.

      “I’m sorry, where are my manners.” He chuckled. “I’ll let you get dressed Y/N. Perhaps I can make us breakfast, if you’ll spend the morning with me, love?” he smiled down into your hair, breathing in your shampoo.

      “Perhaps.” You smiled up at him, grasping onto his bicep tighter. “Perhaps, I’d like that a lot.”

[tronnyboyo]

BLUE SEA  Chapter 4: Voices in the Night

Based off of “Delicious” from Pet Shop of Horrors

Rating: Mature

AU: Don Thousand’s Pet Shop

Word Count: 2564

Relationships: Hellshark/Disqualifyshipping (IV/Ryoga) and past Accidentshipping (IV/Rio)

Warnings: Manslaughter, dysfunctional relationships, brief mentions of sex, language, alcohol

Summary: Thomas brings Ryoga home from the pet shop and remembers the night of the accident.

   “There we are,” I said softly as I eased Ryoga into the pool. “Welcome back.” 

    As much as I had wanted to take Ryoga home right then and there, I knew that I was ill-prepared. He deserved the best. I couldn’t have transported the entire vase that he came in with me nor could I bear to leave him in his small traveling tank for long. Thus, I left him at the pet shop for a few days in order to prepare his new living quarters. Every day without him was hell, the longing eating up my stomach in sharp, desperate pangs. The day before I brought him home, his face had filled my every waking hour. 

      Even as I drove him here, my heart was filled with pain, seeing him in his cramped traveling quarters. Whenever I looked back at him, his eyes were filled with hurt and a slight frown tugged at his lips. 

   “Of course I’m not going to leave you in there like that! When we get back home, you’ll be amazed at what I did with our pool! It’s the perfect place for you!” I had fervently promised my husband. 

    I don’t know if he understood me, but I had continued to talk all the way home, hoping that he would recover at least a bit of his memories from before. Or, at least he would cheer up. It hurt to see his face twisted in pain like that. He looked so...vulnerable. Throughout the ride home, he had rotated between peeking his head out of the tank, arm resting on the sides to quietly lying down on the glass bottom, staring up at the ceiling, gills opening back and forth. After I took him out of the car, I promised him that he would never experience such discomfort again. 

   I intended to make certain of that promise. 

       Before the accident, we had decorated his room together. The walls were painted a dark shade of cornflower blue and were filled with his band posters. He had a window to let in the sunlight along with a sunroof in his bathroom. I had pulled his black curtains shut after the wedding, unable to bear the thought of sunlight fading out his possessions. I couldn’t bring myself to part with the clothes he had already put into his closet either. The mixture of jackets, band tees, jeans and the occasional leather jacket were still sitting there, most likely collecting dust. 

    When I redecorated the pool room, I had gone into Ryoga’s room for the first time in days. It still smelled of fresh paint. He still hadn’t properly spent a night in this bedroom. Not even a hint of his cologne wafted about. I supposed that it was a blessing in its own way. There weren’t as many memories here. Carefully, I removed a few of his posters and his clock. Photographs. Jewelry. His favorite retro stereo and accompanying CDs. I brought them down into the pool room and distributed his possessions everywhere. 

   Plish. Ryoga swam around his new quarters slowly, drinking in the sights. I had placed his favorite leather recliner by the poolside, next to his stereo. His posters and photographs were now framed and placed on the walls. The large window at the back and front of the pool room were framed with dark curtains, similar to the ones in his room. Next to the poolside, I had put a cabinet containing all of his accessories so that he could easily access his jewelry without having to crawl out. It was bolted to the floor in order to prevent any accidents. 

     Under the sun, I watched as his tail caught the sunlight. A smile filled my face. Throughout the year, sunlight changed in accordance with the seasons. Winter sunlight was soft and gentle, filling the world with what was necessary but not to excess. It made things look old, as if on the verge of fading. Spring sunlight was verdant and vivid, adding more color to the world. It served as the bridge between the bright colors of summer and the muted colors of winter. Summer sunlight was yellow and bright, giving everything under it a halo. It made memories shine with joy. And autumn sunlight...there was nothing like it. My favorite season had sunlight that was golden and rich. It dyed the world in the hues of nostalgia, warm and glowing. 

   I couldn’t wait to see Ryoga under the golden sunlight, especially surrounded by the hues of the garden. Red, orange and yellow would go well with his tail and complexion. His pictures under the autumn skies would be stunning. I also couldn’t wait to see him under the hues of spring, amidst the rejuvenating greenery of the garden. He had always looked so vivid against the greens of spring with his blue eyes, pale skin and violet locks. They were the colors of flowers. Perhaps that was why he loved spring the most. It was when he was most beautiful. 

   Who could blame him?

     Ryoga poked his head out of the water and rested his hand on the marbled border. He looked past me and out the window, now filled with late summer fruits. I followed his gaze and saw our fig tree with dark fruits splattered on the ground in mushy red piles. Underneath the tree in the humid summer heat, we had feasted on those sweet, soft fruits. It was always a running joke between us that the figs looked like a woman’s milky breasts, the white sap trickling out of the plucked tip in slow, sticky rivulets. Since the wedding, I couldn’t bear to look at them until now. 

    I looked back at Ryoga to find that he was already on the other side of the pool, looking up at the cabinet curiously. If only he could speak to me again. I’ve come to miss his jibes and relentless teasing. Walking over, I slowly opened the lowest cabinet to show him the array of accessories. The sparkling gems caught his attention and he curiously reached out for a necklace. 

   “I’ll help you put that on if you’d like,” I offered, coming closer. 

   At the sound of my voice, Ryoga disappeared into the waters and swam away. I tried not to take it too personally. After all, he had fallen three stories into frigid waters. Bzzt. 

    Oh.

     I clicked off my phone.

    “Time for lunch,” I announced as I walked over to the fridge. 

    I took three fish out of the fridge and turned around. Plish. Ryoga resurfaced, his eyes wide in anticipation as he saw the fish. For the first time since our wedding, a smile filled his face. My heart soared and I quickened my pace. He swam towards me and excitedly resurfaced, eyes sparkling with delight. I kneeled down and offered the fish to him. Deftly, he grabbed onto one of the fish and yanked it out of my hands, the scales brushing against my skin. He voraciously sank his teeth into the spine of the fish, sharp teeth ripping into the scales. I chuckled as he noisily ate. 

   “Still no charm and an overabundance of rudeness, huh?” I teased. 

    He ignored me and continued to eat. I put the two remaining fish by the side of the pool and cleaned my hands off with a nearby sanitizer. 

    “Let’s listen to some of your music,” I said as I walked over to his stereo. 

    I turned it on and selected one of his burned CDs. It was a lost art, according to him. Apparently, no one knew how to burn CDs anymore. I had never understood why he preferred CDs over our streaming technologies, but I always indulged him during holidays and birthdays. They were difficult to find, often sequestered in antique stores or sold in bundles of outdated technology. Pressing the play button, I then walked back to the jewelry cabinet to close it. The sounds of a soothing bassline started up as I looked into the cabinet. A silver ring caught my attention and I stiffened, quickly closing the compartment. 

     I walked back to the stereo to adjust the volume, prickles crawling up my spine. I watched Ryoga as he ate, the two silver rings on his fingers catching the light. The ring back in the cabinet had been Rio’s wedding gift to him. She had never gotten the chance to give it to him and it had arrived in the mail a few days after the accident. It had come in a plain box, nestled in white satin. “To: Ryoga, From: Rio,” was written on the inside of the lid in permanent marker. There had been no return address. 

   Unbidden, the contract resurfaced in my mind. Clause one: You must not show him to others. Even if it was his own sister? I should have asked for further clarification. But why shouldn’t Rio be allowed to know? If there was anyone that had grieved more than me, it was most definitely her. My hand crept to my pocket and towards my phone, yet it stilled just before I wrapped my fingers about it.    

        The order had been loud and clear. She never wanted to see me again after the wedding. My brows furrowed in contemplation. Surely, she would have wanted to know that Ryoga was alive though? Besides, it was the right thing to do. Then why couldn’t I do it?

     I saw her grief-filled expression under the moonlight as the sirens of the police and naval guard arrived. Her eyes had burned like fire that night, filled with our long and twisted history. First the fire. Then the awkward reconciliation. Stolen glances. Brief brushes of fingers. More intentional touching. Lighting-fast kisses before a duel. Her warm skin on mine, the cold metal of the hallways freezing me to the bone. The betrayal that filled her eyes when I proposed to her twin brother instead of her. 

    “It’s a publicity stunt,” I had said in a hushed voice. “Good for the press and for our careers.” 

     The pale moonlight gave her magenta eyes an otherworldly glow. It dyed her hair silver and her skin was milk white. The white dress she wore fluttered in the wind, the diaphanous fabric teasing me. She was an otherworldly creature of the light. I regarded her cold gaze there, forcing myself to move towards her despite the ice in my veins. Hesitantly, I reached out to her, afraid that she would shatter in my embrace. My shoulders heaved in relief when she didn’t disappear as I held her tight, the ocean breeze and the rocking of the ship melding with our heartbeats. 

    “I will always love you,” I promised. 

    Thunk. Both of us jumped at the sound. Quickly, I turned to see Ryoga, silhouetted against the bright interior of the ship. With the golden light behind him, his hair appeared black and his face was marred by long shadows. His navy blue suit had become a dark shroud and I could not see his eyes. Even the white flowers in his lapel looked gray in that moment. The shadow to Rio’s light. 

    “What are you doing with her?!” he shouted as he rushed towards me. 

    In the moonlight, his sapphire eyes shone with fury and hurt. Before I could answer, he grabbed my collar and shoved me against the deck railing. 

    “Ryoga!” gasped Rio. 

    “Stay out of this!” he snapped, his eyes drilling holes into me. “How long have you been doing this with her?!”

     His cheeks were flushed with red and his breath smelled of champagne as he pushed me once again. 

   “Did you just use me to get closer to my sister?!”

    His voice had broken at the last word, yet his face remained engulfed in rage. Roughly, he pushed me harder against the railing, my back teetering over the edge. The ocean beneath us was an inky black abyss. 

    “C-calm down…! Your s-sister was merely worried about you—about us!” I cried weakly. 

    Ryoga’s eyes narrowed, catching my lie instantaneously. But it was true. Almost everyone at the wedding knew that we fought regularly. Spats peppered our relationship, which was always followed by angry and passionate sex. Those were always the best, with his teeth sinking into my skin and my nails marking up his body. Just not this time. 

   “You fucker!” he screamed. “I trusted you! I knew something was off when Rio started coming to our matches more often! It was because of you!” 

  Being a high-profile prosecutor had left Rio with little free time. It must have hurt when Ryoga realized that she had made time out of her busy schedule not for him but for me. I looked at his face and noted that his lips were trembling. Despite the alcohol he had consumed, his eyes were filled with lucidity. 

    “Listen…!” I gasped as I teetered over the edge of the railing. “It was casual! We—”

    In an instant, Ryoga positioned me over the edge, the deck railing digging into my lower back. I saw the bright expanse of the stars before me, my blood rushing through my ears. Rio’s cry weakened his grip and I felt my instincts kick in. Quickly, I freed myself from Ryoga’s grip and pushed him away. I circled him and he rushed towards me. We struggled for a few moments as we exchanged blows, making our way down the empty deck. I narrowly avoided a kick and slammed Ryoga against the railing. Distantly, I heard Rio crying for help. 

   Still, Ryoga kept trying to punch and kick at me, even as a bruise was forming on his cheek. He swung towards my face and I roughly pushed him away, my muscles rippling with fury. Too late, I realized as I saw his body flip over the railing. It seemed to happen in slow motion. 

     The shine of his shoes against the moonlight. The way his curls flew in all directions of the wind. How his furious expression melted into shock and then fear. How his mouth opened up into a scream. His corsage, fluttering loose and scattering in the wind. 

    “Ryoga…!” I yelled, sticking out my hand. 

    It felt as if I was trapped in gelatin, my limbs refusing to move fast enough. All that lifting. All that training. And it couldn’t even save him. It only killed him. Our fingers briefly touched, briefly interlocking before pulling away. The coldness of his skin shocked me, as if he was already beneath the waves. Rio’s scream melded with her brother’s and mine. The once-peaceful starlit night seemed to be full of nothing but screams in that moment, piercing and endless. And then a small and distant ker-plash as Ryoga’s body sank beneath the waves. 

    I jolted awake with a gasp. 

     “It was an accident,” my manager said. “Plain and simple as that.”

    His voice echoed in my mind as I watched Ryoga swim, the fish long eaten. It wasn’t my fault. As Ryoga passed me by, he didn’t grace me with a single glance. I felt a twinge of relief as he passed me by indifferently. Perhaps this was a gift from heaven. A blank slate with Ryoga who, I knew now, was the love of my life. 

[kessielrg]

[Kingdom Hearts] Cycles

Summary: I have no excuses for this. There is no point for this to exist. And yet, here we both are; a super self indulgent slice of life/stuck in quarantine fic written over the course of 8 hours. Featuring, but not limited to, a shameless VentusxOC ship, Vanitas being a simp, bashing fellow classmates, and the awkwardness of having a headstrong on-again-off-again girlfriend. Oneshot. Modern AU.

Rating: K+

Word Count: 2,660

If you enjoyed this story, please reblog!

-

If Ventus had his way, he'd probably sleep for the rest of the day. Everything had been in lockdown since March. Now in June that initial joy of having time to spare had worn thin. He'd be lying if he said he didn't try to sleep for the entirety of May. He'd also be lying if he said that he hadn't been skipping meals here and there as well. Not that anyone could really stop him; Aqua was considered an essential employee and still worked a 40 hour workweek. Terra's job had mandated him to be there every other week. Then there was just Ven himself and his twin Vanitas, who had no job and certainly had no interest to do so at this time.

As Ven contemplated at least doing laundry for the day, his phone started to ring. He recognized the number and immediately answered it.

“Hello?” he said, hoping that he didn't sound as tired as he felt.

“Hey Ven.” the voice of his on-again-off-again girlfriend Sabrina greeted. While it wasn't the most melodious of voices (if anything, she could get shrill quickly), it was still a comfort to hear her voice on the other end.

“Is something wrong?” Ven then asked.

“No.” came the little hum. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Even though he figured she wasn't quite telling him the truth, it didn't stop the humble blush from appearing on his face.

Ventus had met Sabrina way back during junior high open house night. They really hadn't talked much during those years, though. Sabrina had enough energy to be the poster child for the next Energizer Bunny. There were days when Ven simply couldn't keep up with her no matter how hard he tried. It was an accidental kiss during prom in tenth grade that launched their relationship into high drive. Or, it would have, had Sabrina not have a slight lingering fear of commitment.

They were currently in their 'on' cycle at the moment. Which, in and of itself, was a miracle due to the craziness of the plague known as COVID-19. Just like how everyone thought the virus would be dealt with in a month's time, Ven was sure that three months into quarantine and Sabrina would have decided it was time for them to split again. But she didn't- possibly because they were both each other's source of sanity from their rather large households. Ven sometimes wondered if it was because they weren't actually 'together' like they would have without a virus going around, or if she genuinely hated being stuck at home.

“What'cha doing today?” Sabrina then asked.

“Oh, I dunno.” Ven carefully admitted. “Try to hide from Vanitas, maybe make dinner with Aqua. I think Terra's working on the pool so he can have some place to exercise since he can't go to the gym.” He paused for a moment before warily adding, “What are you doing?”

“Thinking I'm gonna come over to your house.”

Ven's heart suddenly jolted into his throat. “You can't do that!” he immediately blurted.

“Why not?” came the rather callous reply.

“Because we're in quarantine!”

Ven hated that he could hear her give a little click of her tongue. He hated it even more when she said, “Have you been anywhere in the past week?”

“No.”

“Has anyone else?”

Knowing where this conversation was going, Ven let out a hard sigh. “No...”

“Then I'm coming over.” she decided with certainty. “Give me about 10 minutes. I still need to get in the shower.”

Ven let out another exasperated sigh as he buried his face in his hands. It was useless trying to convince Sabrina otherwise. It was one of the things that he both loved and hated about her.

“Be safe on the ride over. Please?” he then requested. “Terra's said that the folks that are still on the road are crazier than the normal traffic.”

Sabrina snorted. “That's because they're stir crazy. Or suicidal because they're essential employees. About the same, really.”

“Please be careful.” Ven repeated, this time with a bit more pleading in his voice.

“I'll be just as careful as I was when we played seven minutes in heaven at Kairi's birthday party.” Sabrina informed him- he could almost hear the cheeky grin she had on her face while she said it too. “Byyyye~!”

And just like that, the line went dead, and Ven was sure that his blush was even darker than before. He glanced over at his clock. If Sabrina was coming over, he might as well take a quick shower. Goodness knows how long he's worn the pair of lounge pants he had on. It was time for a change anyway.

. . .

Terra unscrewed the cap of his water bottle with a near prejudice. The sips he took where long and even more angered as he downed nearly the entirety of the bottle's contents in a few seconds. Why did they even have an above ground pool if no one else was going to take care of it? The water was green enough to be called a swamp, the filter pump had a busted part somewhere, and he was almost certain at this point that the pool itself had a tear somewhere. He wasn't going to lie, Terra was ready to give up and resign to a fate of playing Wii Fit until the lockdown let up.

“Aqua must be getting quite the eyeful from her bedroom right about now.”

Recognizing the voice, Terra paused and looked toward the drive lane. Still sitting there in her convertible was Sabrina. She had sunglasses over her eyes, but her teasing smirk was as clear as day. Terra's face fell before deciding to go over to his best friend's noncommittal girlfriend.

“Top knots don't work on you.” he informed her in a toneless voice. At this, the smirk was instantly wiped off of her face. She even absently placed a hand on said top knot that was actually doing a pretty decent job of keeping her raven black hair out of her face. A scowl then found its way onto her features. Terra perfectly ignored all of it.

“Ven didn't say you were coming over.” he instead said to her.

“That's because I invited myself.”

“How did I not guess...” Terra muttered under his breath. “You do know we're in lockdown, right?”

“Urg, not you too.” the young woman grumbled. “Look, I have a box full of clothes here somewhere. I could practically live here if I felt like it.”

The look Terra gave her silently passed the message that they both knew she wouldn't.

“So,” Terra started to say just to change the subject, “Are you taking Ven with you, or...”

“Ha! You're not that lucky this time.” the younger of the two laughed. “I'm staying here.”

“For how long?”

At this, Sabrina tilted her sunglasses at him. “Remember that box of clothes I mentioned earlier? Still relevant.”

Terra shook his head. He couldn't argue against it- he had other things to do than bicker with a self appointed princess.

“The door's unlocked.” he instead said. “Just keep your shoes at the door, Aqua's been on a cleaning streak since quarantine started.”

“Thanks muscle head.” Sabrina cheekily agreed as she shut her car's engine off.

Sabrina absolutely loved -and conversely was very jealous of- the house Ven and his friends lived in. Deeded to Aqua and Terra after the latter's adoptive father passed, the spacious farmhouse boasted four full bedrooms and an incredibly beautiful kitchen. It had also become a near second home to her since she and Ven started to hang out. There was even the bonus of not having four year old sextuplet adoptive siblings running around. Who would say no to that?

Heading straight to the game room, Sabrina entered the room without so much announcing she had arrived. Ven didn't notice; he was working over by the TV, making sure that both the Roku and Xbox were plugged in. Sabrina offered him a small smile before heading to the couch. She flopped herself down, landing on her back and making herself comfortable not long after. When Ven finally turned around to look for the remote controls, he nearly jumped out of his skin seeing his girlfriend casually lounging on the couch.

“Draw me like one of your french girls, Jack.” Sabrina even teased. Ven almost immediately looked away again, his face flushed and a hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“You're early.” he noted as he went over to the couch.

“Are you kidding?” she snorted. “I couldn't get here fast enough.”

“Traffic bad?” Ven asked before bending down to give her a small kiss.

Sabrina shook her head as he then sat down next to her. “Too loud at home.” She looked up at the ceiling and let out a hard sigh. “They're sooo bored, and there's nothing we can really do about it than let them do whatever all day. Or hang them from the ceiling. I'm down for that. Ozzie, though? Not so much.”

“You know, it would be a lot quieter if you went to Kairi and Namine's house.” Ven gently told her as he reached for a remote. He turned the TV on, filling the room with the noises of some news channel. Ven quickly changed it.

“Nah.” Sabrina disagreed with a flick of her hand. “If I was gonna do that, I'd go over to Ephemer's. He lives closer to me than anyone else. But he's too busy threewaying with Skuld and that super quiet kid of 3-C.” A small look of thought crossed Sabrina's face as she considered something. She tilted her head up to look at Ven. “What is their gender by the way?”

Ven gave a small half shrug. It didn't really matter to him.

“Maybe they're like Xion and identify as nonbinary?”

“I guess.” came the sighing agreement. Sabrina relaxed her head, then carefully turned it to look at the TV. “You've got a game plan today, or nah?”

Ventus tilted his head to the side a little in thought, but when he opened his mouth to answer, he was cut off by someone else.

“He's going to watch me sweep you off your feet, obviously.”

Both Sabrina and Ventus turned their attention to see Vanitas at the doorway. Seeing him caused a rather unnerved smirk to appear on the young woman's face.

“In your dreams, Vanitas.” she told him- her voice was sickeningly sweet, but still held an edge that the dark haired boy ignored. Despite this, Vanitas also came toward the couch.

“Come on Wabi-Sabi, give me a little chance.” he teased, passing by Ven with full knowledge that his older twin would do nothing to stop him.

“I did.” Sabrina countered as she folded her arms. “And you used it to say you were Ven.”

“It was an honest attempt.”

“I was nearly expelled.” Ven cut in. His voice was a bit darker now as well.

Vanitas only shrugged. “C'est la vie of a twin.”

It was almost unnoticeable, but both Ventus and Sabrina gave him a low growl.

“You really wanna do something for me?” Sabrina asked him in a sweet voice, raising her leg up to his eye range. Vanitas did not hesitate to place a gentle hand near her ankle and give it a kiss.

“Of course, my lady.” Vanitas purred.

“Then make me and Ven a pizza.” she informed him, lightly kicking his chest. “A real one too- not whatever frozen monstrosity that's been at the back of your freezer since the last Joe Corbi's.”

Vanitas grunted, all but swatting her foot away in frustration, before leaving the living room. Sabrina looked rather pleased with herself. She tilted her head up to look at Ven again.

“You're welcome.” she grinned.

“He'll be back in an hour.”

Her grin immediately became a grimace. “See if I care.”

And with that, Ventus turned on the Xbox and started to play whatever game had been left in it last. Sabrina made a few adjustments to her sitting position to better watch him. A peaceful silence came between them as Ven played his game. Occasionally, unconsciously, Sabrina would look up at Ven for a moment before looking back at the TV.

“Who would you date if you didn't have me?”

“Oh, I dunno.” Ventus replied, barely looking away from his game. Which meant that his answers were going to be half-hearted at best. “Strelitzia's kinda cute, I guess. But her brother seems kinda scary if you so much look at her funny. And I know for a fact that Namine definitely wouldn't treat me like you do.”

“That's 'cuz Namine's too shy, whereas I'm...”

“Bossy?”

“A boss.”

To this, Ven smirked. “Not the word I would have used.” he teasingly mused. “But alright.”

Sabrina gave him a fake gasp. She immediately sat up and took the controller straight out of Ven's hand- lightly tossing it to the floor.

“Hey!” Ven declared, turning to face her. But he stopped all thought processes when he realized just how close she had placed her face next to his. Ven could feel his breathing hitch and his heart beat faster the longer he looked into her chocolate brown eyes.

“You're so mean to me.” he whispered in a near husk. Sabrina only offered a teasing grin.

“You love it.” she insisted before leaning closer to him. Ven mirrored her, closing the distance between them. When they could just barely brush their lips against the others, Sabrina suddenly pulled away.

“Wait, do you smell that?”

Confused, his mind wanting other things, Ventus paused and started to sniff the air. The duo tried to figure out what exactly they were smelling. It was almost like the smell of freshly baked bread and tomato sauce.

“Oh my god.” Sabrina marveled when she realized what it was. She turned to Ven with a wide, thoroughly bemused grin. “He's actually doing it. Vanitas is actually making us a pizza.”

“You.” Ven corrected. “He's making you a pizza.”

“You know I'll share.”

“Assuming he makes enough to share.”

“Should've told him to make it 9 inches.” Sabrina then noted, sitting up as the moment of intimacy had passed at the distraction. “If he's the desperate to actually make a pizza by scratch, then he's desperate enough to pull out a ruler to make it exactly 9 inches too.”

“You just enjoy stringing all of us along, don't you?” Ventus wondered before he could stop himself. Hearing it made Sabrina pause for a moment. She looked at him with a rather demeaning raise of her eyebrow.

“Even if I am,” she said, “You're still kind to me. Not sure who's the bigger idiot; you or me.”

“Maybe both.” he suggested in a soft voice.

Sabrina looked away. “Yeah… Maybe.”

A small silence fell on them after this. Unlike before, it wasn't a good one.

“Let's make Vanitas jealous.” Ventus suddenly suggested.

Sabrina jumped in her spot. She looked back at him with wide eyes. He looked back at her with almost the same expression- apparently even more shocked that he would say such a thing.

“Are you serious?” Sabrina questioned, a bemused grin etching its way on her face.

Ven looked at her for a moment. The idea was… rather tempting, actually. It wouldn't have been the first time that they were caught making out. Let alone the first time they wanted someone to find out that they were. He looked back up at her and gave a firm nod. “Dead serious.” he affirmed.

“You're such a bad-” Sabrina started to say, but Ven had cut her off with a heated kiss. The rest of her sentence was murmured into his lips. As the kiss deepened, Ven carefully laid Sabrina down on the couch to further continue their antics in comfort.

Quarantine be damned, making out was fun.