#his eyes positively gleam and he quietly savors her voice

[k-kay4]

Pure like Oxygen <3

Sun-Jae turns absolutely giddy whenever Sol expresses concern for his well-being.

When she retrieved his swim trunks and told him that she had a nightmare about him getting hurt.

When she was worried about him being all by himself and taken advantage of by strangers after he'd won her a phone.

When she sweetly nagged him over the phone to prioritize his needs over others and not simply endure the stress.

When the paparazzi snapped pictures of them together and she fretted over the possibility of it affecting his career.

Each time, he is surprised by her concern and wonders, "Wait, is she worried…. about me?" and each time, he grins and mentally fangirls over it.

He just cannot believe that the girl of his dreams, the one he'd mooned over for so long…. actually cares about him.

Such a lovesick dork <3

[kyunisixx]

chiaroscuro

artist!Robert Plant AU one shot.

a/n: this really started out as a song I wanted to write. But I knew I had to turn it into a longer writing!!

themes: fluff, mild implications of nsfw and tw: childhood trauma.

summary: in which Y/N becomes a muse for Robert, a landscape artist in more ways than one. (Man, that summary is so shit but let's roll with it)

pairing: artist!Robert Plant x fem!reader

chi·a·ro·scu·ro

the treatment of light and shade in drawing and painting.

an effect of contrasted light and shadow created by light falling unevenly or from a particular direction on something.

"Lean back for me a bit more, darling. That's right, relax."

As she moves, the old sofa creaks beneath her. Chilled air gusts through a partially opened window, making her shiver and sending miniscule bumps all over her bare skin. Her eyes drift over the fixtures inside the cozy cabin, illuminated by an outmoded oil lamp situated on the man's table. Several tiny moths were floating around it as the flame wavered ever so slightly from the breeze.

Scattered were all paintbrushes and smudges of paint were messily smeared all over the table. A round board was placed so close at the edge (one she heard him call before —a palette). In the middle is a rustic cup with half-empty, now cold tea. But a paint-smudged hand grasped on its handle and swiftly brought it over to a mouth. 

Then her eyes met his.

His frizzled, curly blond locks are pulled into a disheveled bun. One he pinned up so carelessly with a thin, unused paintbrush as to prevent it from obstructing his view but a few ringlets managed to escape and are now framing his face.

Ivory-colored shirt, a few buttons undone to reveal smooth skin of his collarbones which were also marked with a few shades of paint. Some scattered across his jawline to his cheek. 

Lips are pursed and eyes are pulled into deep concentration, they are set into a particular part of her. As if to capture the exact curvature of the crease on her waist.

Salient was the cleft on his chin and the sharp edge of his cheekbones by the incandescent light lent by the lamp, making him look like a contrast between sinister and elegance.

He dipped a brush and carefully made short strokes on the canvas, pausing every now and then to look at her.

The sun was setting and the sky was shaded a dull gray, providing so little of brightness which seemed to have darkened even more being situated in a lush forest.

Many months ago at this time of the day, she would have just been getting up from her sleep. Wake up and get ready for a long shift. It was a routine she had gotten so used to every day.

Take a bath. Eat. Pick out an outfit. Put on makeup. Be into the persona.

She would become a completely different person as soon as she stepped into the establishment she knew for as long as she moved into the town a few months ago.

From having to move into different cities and using different names to hide her identity. All of it to escape the filthy and haunted ghost of her past. 

Screaming. Glass breaking. Bruises. Slamming doors.  All of the things a child shouldn't have to go through. She took a risk and ran away from it.

And here is where she ended up thirteen years later.

Lacklustre eyes unmoving as they steadily stared back at her in a blurry mirror inside the changing room. All the girls' chattering seemed to have been muted and faded in the background as she gazed at her reflection. She picked up the small item in her hand, before taking the cap off and swiped the crimson lipstick across her chapped lips, creating a thick shade.

"Y/N, you ready to go?"

She turned her head back to Don, the club manager. She smiled and moved her head in a single nod.

“Sure, Don. Just give me a short moment”. She adjusted the strap of her black velvet dress and walked on the familiar, dimly lit hallway. Her stilettos clapped quietly on the floor as she padded and stopped in front of a red curtain covering the doorway from the side to the stage. 

"How's it going, folks? Alright, alright. I'd get right into it. This is the moment you've all been waiting for. The crowd favourite, slithers like a python, mistress of the night; Marilyn"

Then, she waited as the main lights switched off and took her cue to enter as smoke filled the platform. Coloured lights gleamed right through. She situated herself right in the middle then circled her hand on the pole as the first note of the song started to hum quietly. Like a distant patter of rain—calm before the storm. Her hips moved into the rhythm and fluidly sneaked around the pole as the cloud of smoke started to clear out. Gazing into the crowd of men, her blood-red lips quirk into a smirk.

It was the only time she knew she had complete power and control. And she relished it, savoring the potency. 

Her hands smoothed all over her now slightly perspired skin as men clamored and hooted for her. Bills were haphazardly thrown into the dancefloor. Something that she wasn't used to when she first started, it made her feel cheap. Dirty. But her routine carried on almost every night, she eventually got used to it and had even grown to like it.

Then she spotted him. 

Big ball of golden hair illuminated by stage lights. He was situated amongst the sea of predators, his eyes followed the fluidity of her movements. But what struck her the most was the way he was watching her. It wasn't shadowed by lust, but more of an intense wonder and curiosity. It was as if he was memorizing each part of her curves, but for another purpose.

Her gaze somewhat mirrored his. He definitely wasn't strange-looking. Hell, he might have been the most beautiful man she has ever seen. He didn't belong to a place where no good men wander around. Both his beguiling beauty and aura was completely out of place for such a place like this.

The song then came to a stop. Her number was over but her eyes remained locked with his. It was only then she came back to consciousness as Don's voice boomed into the large speakers, signalling the end of her performance. She collected the bills scattered on the floor and walked off the stage, throwing a last glance into the crowd as she took her exit.

He was gone.

He wouldn't show up for a couple of days. She was sure, of course. The moment she steps out, her eyes would already be skimming through the lounge, and would sigh in disappointment if she didn't spot any sign of him.

"Have you seen your mysterious man yet?"

One of the girls she was closest to, Hershey, asked as she counted the thick block of bills on her hand.

"He wasn't out there tonight"

"You could have been hallucinating. Anyway, you told me he was 'like an angel'"

Hershey laughed, mimicking the way she had said the last part with a breathy tone and added, "Or could have been disappointed in your dance number, ran away and swore to not step a foot into this place again"

She stopped momentarily, chuckled lightly and sighed, "You may not be far from the truth but we'll see."

Then he would be there the next night, positioned right at a table at the back. His curly locks gave his identity right away, with his elbows propped up and fingers poised against his chin, bearing the same gaze. 

Later that night, he'd be waiting right outside of the club.

"The show was spectacular."

She tilted her head to him, nodded and smiled.

"Thank you."

She wasn't sure how it ended up with her sitting on a stool inside a cozy 24-hour operating diner so late at night, chatting with her "mysterious man" late at night, who introduced himself as Robert. He was apparently a landscape artist and has traveled the world where he finds inspirations for his works.

"The best place I have ever been to? Hm. I'd say Machu Picchu, set in the high mountains of Andes in Peru, above a river called Urubamba. I had to hike all the way up, and you could see the breathtaking view when you reach the top."

"That does sound very lovely." She sighed wistfully.

"Have you ever traveled anywhere outside the country?"

"Oh no, I have not. I move to different places a lot but I've never gone out, never had the chance to."

"Ah, you should! It's wonderful."

She nodded, "Do you only do landscaping?"

"Well, no. I do a little bit of abstract art but I focus mainly on landscaping. I was thinking of expanding more, though. Maybe portrait, or nude art."

"That's a good idea. An artist has to come out of his comfort zone and be able to become great."

"Yeah…", he trailed off, as if lost in thought. "I hope this doesn't come off as strange or I as a creep. But may I ask you to be my muse? Don't worry! We'll only do portrait." He added the last sentence quickly.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him, her brows furrowed deep in thought.

"You don't have to s—"

"I'll do it."

A few days later, she was again popped up on a stool inside his flat just a few blocks away from the club. His place was spacious, but had a very rustic feel to the interior design. A few souvenirs from different countries were neatly placed on a shelf and most of his paintings were hung stylistically on the walls (in which she stared at in complete awe for what she could tell an hour each painting until he had to drag her away to his studio)

Her fingers fiddled as she tried to stay still under his calculating gaze. She never had much problem with how she looked and never had insecurities. Perhaps she just didn't care enough to be insecure. But at that moment, she thought of how she must've appeared to him and if she was good-looking enough to be an inspiration for his art.

"Are you alright there?"

"Yes! Yes, I… Yeah I'm alright."

His hand stopped and placed the paintbrush on the table. "Are you sure? If you're not comfortable or if you need a break, we could stop for a bit."

She shook her head vigorously, "No, it's okay. Don't worry."

"If you say so."

She let her eyes travel from his bare foot, to his khaki trousers, to his satin shirt with top three buttons undone, to his face. Oh, his gorgeous face. It was pulled into a deep concentration as he stared at his work, giving her some time to study his majestic features.

His eyes flickered to hers as if sensing her stare and playfully frowned, a small smile curled on the side of his lips.

"What?"

"What?"

He laughed, "You were staring."

"I was. Is it a crime?"

"No, I wouldn't say it is." He said with a teasing edge to his voice. 

It was their arrangement which they stick to a few times a week. On her day off, after work if she wasn't feeling too exhausted. There was an obvious attraction lingering inside the room of his small studio but none of them acted upon it other than just casual flirtations thrown around. He was a perfect gentleman and had always been accommodating. A couple of times he would insist on paying her in which she would always refuse to accept. 

"The tea you make for me is enough for a payment." She had jokingly said. "Do not worry about it, Robert. Really, it's okay. I'm making enough from my job."

One night, after their sessions, they had too many drinks and bottles were littered over the table along with his paint brushes which had long dried of paint. 

"Tell me about you, Marilyn. Mistress of the night, who apparently, slithers like a python." He mused, mentioning her alias. His glossy eyes filled with mirth.

She snorted, took a long swig of beer and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. 

"Marilyn is… Nobody. I'm nobody. I came from somewhere that in my mind, ceased to exist." She stared ahead. "I ran away from home. Who calls it a home anyway?" She laughed humorlessly.

"My parents fought a lot. They spent so much time fighting, they didn't even have time for me. Looking back at it now, I could have just preferred that. But then, they turned their anger towards me." She sniffed and quickly wiped the salty tears before they even slid down to her flushed cheeks.

"I went to my grandparents. They loved me so much and I loved them so dearly. But they were not my parents. Eventually, both of them passed away and I was left on my own. But I was eighteen. I didn't have to go back to my parents. So I went to different cities, finding places where I could feel like I could fit in. Looked for jobs, and then I ended up here. I made friends and I have my own place, but it still never felt like home."

He was quietly staring at her, and the silence was deafening. Then he lifted his free hand to her face and ran the back of his index finger to dry her cheeks. Her hand caught his and brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss. 

"But with you, it feels… different. I like hanging out with you. I like being with you. You feel like home to me, Robert."

Her voice echoed softly as he took his time to reply. But he didn't, instead, he leaned down and sealed his lips against hers. 

He layed limply on top of her body as he shuddered from his release. Both tried to desperately catch for their breath as her hand smoothed down his back and the other combed through his damp locks. He slid out of her and dropped beside her, not too long before he enclosed his arms over her and pulled closer. He catches her lips on his in a lazy kiss and smiled.

"You feel like home to me too, Y/N."

Her heart soared and nuzzled her nose against his.

"I want to paint you like this. May I? You are so beautiful. In light and in shadow."

She blushed, "Yes, but right now? I'm tired."

"No, no. We'll do it tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere." His warm breath hit her skin as he whispered.

"Where?" She whispered back.

"Well, I'm not telling you that. But it was what I helped my Father build when I was younger. It's somewhat like a special place for me, and I want you to see it."

He gazed at her as he waited for her to respond.

"Okay."

Under the light of the lamp, she peers at him under her lashes.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Mm? I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know what it is. Cut it out or I'll never get to finish this."

She huffs. "You're no fun"

"I can prove you otherwise in a few minutes."

He continued to do his finishing touches and leaned back to admire his work.

"That isn't too bad. But nothing compares to the real art."

"And what might that be?"

"You, my love." He stood up, walked over to where she was, placed his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her to him.

"I've been waiting for this for hours."

"I've been giving you hints and you insist on finishing your art."

He chuckled. "Of course I had to."

His fingers danced their way from her sides to her hips, rubbing along the marks littered across her skin.

"Are you ready to see it?" He murmured against her neck. She shudders as she nodded, giving their playful banter a break. 

He bit her earlobe softly, "Okay."

He walked over to his canvas and carefully turned it around to face her.

She gasps.

.

⭐ writings list ⭐

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taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @princesspagey , @ritacaroline , @jimmys-zeppelin , @rebel-without-a-zeppelin , @reincarnated70sbaby (if you wanted to be added in, let me know 🤘🏻🤗)

[vannahfanfics]

New Possibilities

Category: Romance, Friendship

Fandom: Noragami

Characters: Hiyori Iki, Yato, Yukiné

Hiyori’s eyebrows were scrunched tightly together, forming a deep furrow in the middle of her brow. Her rose-colored eyes stared intently at the letter she held in her hands, addressed to her in neat, printed letters. The addressee was a sticker with “University of Tokyo College of Clinical Medicine” printed in bold, black letters over the circular orange-and-blue logo. Here in her hands, she held her destiny—the decision on her admittance or rejection from the top medical school in Japan. 

As her fingers began to shake, she squeezed her eyes shut so she could force herself to breathe deeply in and out. There was no time to be nervous! If she got to in her head, she wouldn’t be able to open the letter! She squashed the feeling of nausea rising in her stomach before snapping her eyes open, rose irises burning with determination. 

Before she could talk herself out of it, she flipped the envelope around so she could tear open the top, careful not to accidentally rip the letter in the process. She let the envelope flutter to the floor after removing the folded piece of paper inside. She gulped while she stared at the blank white backside, nervousness rising once more inside her. With trembling fingers, she slowly straightened out the paper and skipped down to the first line of words printed on the fancy letterhead. 

“Dear Miss Iki, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted…”  

Hiyori didn’t even finish the sentence, for a squeal burst out of her mouth, unable to be contained. She threw her arms in the air and began to jump around her room, delighted cries of “Yes, yes, yes!” gushing from her overjoyed body. She was going to medical school, the best medical school! She was going to be a doctor! 

She stopped hopping around to snap her face back to the letter, reading it once, twice, three times to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming. No, there it was in black and white—Hiyori was accepted. Tears blossomed in the corners of her eyes, and she didn’t even bother to wipe them away, just let them roll down her cheeks. This was one of the happiest days of her life, so a few happy tears were definitely in order. 

She hugged the letter to her chest, and the sound of the paper crinkling was music to her ears. 

I can’t wait to tell Yato!

~~~~~~~~~~

 Of course, societal norms dictated that Hiyori phone her parents first, which she did. Both of them were working, but they both screamed in triumph when Hiyori delivered the good news. They laughed, they cried, they gushed about Hiyori’s new possibilities, and Hiyori basked in the warm glow of their pride. However, the world did not stop turning even for such a celebratory cause, and so Hiyori eventually had to bid them adieu. That was all right, though; they would have a proper party once they returned home from work, and this gave Hiyori plenty of time to spread the news to the other important people in her life. 

Kofuku was sitting on the porch of her little shop when Hiyori came running up, cheeks pink from breathlessness. The goddess cocked her head to the side as the girl approached in such a tizzy, and then her gaze dropped to the opened letter flapping around in her hand. 

“Ahh! Hiyori, is it today?” the girl cried and jumped up while putting her hands together in delight. “Oh, oh, you probably want to tell Yato first—he’s in the back! Yukiné went down the street to get some bubble teas, so I’ll let him know as soon as he’s back to come see you! Now hurry, hurry! Daikoku and I want to hear, too!” 

“Thanks, Kofuku!” Hiyori grinned as she skirted around the porch, leaving the goddess to impatiently squirm while she trotted around the back of the small convenience store. She rounded the back of the building to the small yard behind, and she found Yato lazing about among the roots of a tree, eyes closed and hands resting behind his head. 

“Yato, Yato!” she cried, and he cracked a cyan eye open at the sound of her voice. She came bounding up to him, eyes sparkling. However, her legs finally gave out from all the frantic running, and so she collapsed on her knees at his side. “Oof…” 

‘“Did you run all the way here?” he chuckled as he sat up. Hiyori nodded with a mournful croon and rubbed her burning calves, prompting Yato to laugh. “Silly Hiyori, I know you love to see me, but—” he stopped his flirty joke when he caught sight of the letter in her lap. “... Is that what I think it is?” 

“Yes!” Hiyori squeezed out between gulps of air. She tossed her head up, flipping her disarrayed hair out of her face, and held up the letter proudly. “I was accepted to Tokyo University! I’m going to be a doctor, Yato!” 

It seemed to take him a moment to register the news. He blinked slowly, staring at the letter with a blank expression. Hiyori tilted her head to the side in confusion; wasn’t he happy for her? Just as she was about to inquire, his expression softened and he reached up to pat Hiyori’s head affectionately. 

“I knew you could do it, Hiyori. Congratulations,” he said with a sweet smile. Hiyori giggled as he ruffled her already wind-swept hair; his hand felt good, tousling the strands and running across her scalp. She enjoyed it for a second, then opened her eyes. Yato couldn’t wipe the sadness from his expression before Hiyori noticed it. He knew she saw, too, as he blushed and dropped his gaze to the grassy ground. His hand stayed atop her head, and Hiyori reached up to grab it while staring at him in confusion. 

“Yato… What is it?” 

He chewed on his lip while he debated answering. Hiyori lowered his hand to hold it in front of her chest, squeezing it with both of hers. Finally, his eyes flickered up to meet hers, and she was taken aback by how guilty and miserable he looked. 

“I shouldn’t… It’s selfish of me.” 

“Well, you can be a little selfish, Yato. I don’t mind.” 

A smile tugged at his lips, and he looked at her with amused hopelessness. I can’t resist when you say it like that, his expression said, and it made Hiyori’s heart thump in her chest. 

“I guess… It’s just finally hitting me that you’ll be leaving me, Hiyori.” 

“Huh? Who said I was leaving?” Hiyori blinked. Yato made a choking sound and reared back a little, obviously surprised by her blatant rebuttal. Hiyori smiled, pulling his hand to rest over her heart. “Yato, you’re the most important person in the world to me. Even if I’m going off to college, that doesn’t mean that we can’t be together anymore!” 

“You mean… You see me in your future, Hiyori?” 

Hiyori opened her eyes at that, a blush painting her cheeks. Yato was leaning forward now, his expression intense. Those cyan eyes burned with something unlike she’d ever seen, and it sent electricity buzzing through her nerves. Though she had the urge to run and hide, embarrassed by what was happening, she also wanted nothing more than to see where this would go. Squirming, she managed a little nod. 

“O-of course, Yato…” 

Of course, Yato was never surprised for long. That cocksure smirk spread over his lips, and as he leaned in a little further, a mischievous twinkle began to gleam in his bright blueish eyes. 

“Oh? What do you think about?” 

“I-I think about… You being there when I graduate…” she admitted. Oh, but that wasn’t all, and Yato knew it, too. It was like that roguish stare of his was magic, and it was pulling out all her deepest, darkest secrets with effortless ease. “I, um… I think about… U-us dating, and um… Getting married… And… Maybe… Having children…” 

Her voice grew smaller and smaller with each damning admission until she was shrinking into herself and whispering meekly. She hid her face behind his hand, which she was still holding like a treasure, while she looked at him with uncertain eyes. Yato just kept that same stupid smirk on his face the entire time, given no indication of how he felt about it. Anxiety began to roil in her belly. What if he would laugh at her? What if he didn’t feel the same? Yato was a trickster, but he wouldn’t be this mean, would he? 

No. Not my Yato.

“I’m relieved,” Yato said, and suddenly his expression was melting. He scooted a little closer to her, and his free hand pushed into the grass by her waist as he angled his body over hers until she was looking up into his face. He freed his other hand from her grip so he could caress her face—tracing a path down her cheek to her chin until his thumb traced the border of her lips. “I think about those things, too, Hiyori. I didn’t want them to be just thoughts.” 

“Yato… Are you saying…?” she asked quietly, but her voice failed her. She just looked at him pleadingly, and Yato’s smile somehow got impossibly softer even though it already felt like Hiyori was beginning to float in the clouds. 

“I’m saying that I love you, Hiyori, and I want to be a part of your future if you’ll let me,” Yato said. 

Hiyori sucked in a breath, and suddenly the tears came flooding back. She couldn’t stop them; she was so overwhelmed with happiness and relief and all the emotions in between. All she could do was nod emphatically. Yato chuckled gently, using his hand to thumb her tears away until she managed to quiet down into little sniffles. As she blinked repeatedly, trying to dislodge the little salty droplets still clinging to her lashes, she didn’t notice Yato’s face closing in. 

His lips met hers, and the first thing that struck her was how soft his lips were. They were like silk, perfect against her own. Hiyori melted into him, eyes fluttering as she savored the meeting of their mouths and everything that meant. 

They pulled apart, but only by a few centimeters. They stared into each other’s eyes, and Yato began to caress her cheek again. I could get used to this…

“Hiyoriiiiiiii!” came a sudden wail, and the two of them sprang apart like they’d been struck. They hurried to find a position that made it look like they weren’t just kissing. Yato lounged back against the tree, while Hiyori sat on her knees an acceptable distance away while she played with one of her pigtails. Yukiné came bounded around the side of the building, looking panicked. 

“Hiyori! Don’t go!” the boy wailed and flung himself across the yard. Hiyori exclaimed as he belly-flopped onto the ground next to her and planted his face write into her lap. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist as if he could keep her there through force alone. Hiyori chuckled and rested a hand on his back, and he looked up at her petulantly. 

“Yukiné, I’m not going anywhere,” Hiyori chuckled. “I’ll still be around!” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise!” Hiyori reassured. Yukiné smiled and sagged into her, thoroughly relieved. 

“Oi! Who do you think you are, hogging Hiyori?” Yato whined. Hiyori exclaimed as Yato draped himself over her shoulders, arms dangling down by her sides and chin propped in the crook of her neck. 

“Ah! Are we doing group hugs?” they heard Kofuku yell, and they looked up just in time to see her sailing through the air. They all screamed when Kofuku crashed into them, sending Yato and Hiyori onto their backs. As they dog-piled at the base of the tree, they couldn’t help but burst into giggles. Hiyori wiggled her arm until she could pull out the acceptance letter, and her expression brightened. 

I’ve got a great future ahead of me… And I’m glad everyone is going to be in it!

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[acciocriativity]

The bet || Harry Potter

Pairing: Fred Weasley and George Weasley x Platonic/Reader (Tiny not so tiny George Weasley x Reader)

Summary: You had a normal life at Hogwarts, until the Weasley twins decided they weren't going to leave you alone anymore, and what was the reason? You would give five galleons to anyone who knew the answer.

Word Count: 4,0k

It was still early, I was walking through the corridors towards the Great Hall when two red-haired figures appeared in my sight.

"Hey Y/N!", one of them waved cheerfully at me, I still had no idea which one. "Why do you suddenly look tall today?", the other said with a smile, which made me want to punch him.

"Why are you suddenly more annoying today? It sounds like a serious illness, so excuse me, I don't want to catch this", I walked as fast as I could so they couldn't keep up with me.

I could hear their laughter behind me and the whispering but decided not to pay attention to what was said, that would bring me more calmness.

And why do I basically run away from them? It is very simple.

One day I was just another Ravenclaw student, and the next day I had the attention of the most popular twins at Hogwarts.

They liked to tease me about absolutely everything, no matter if I was just sitting down reading or trying to concentrate in a class, one of them would find a way to annoy me.

I never tried to differentiate which was Fred and which was George, it made no difference, they both seemed equally annoying to me and knowing who is who was not going to guarantee me anything.

"Hey, wait. We have a deal for you", the tallest of them spoke with a grin plastered on his face as he walked up to me in stride.

"And why should I agree? Anything coming from you guys is pretty suspicious", I replied with my eyes screwed tight and crossed my arms.

"Because you can have your quiet time again, we won't tease you anymore as far as possible", the other said with a small smile and I stopped to think for a few seconds.

"Well, that sounds good enough, and what do I have to do? You're going to have to get something out of this, obviously", I still remained in the same position analyzing the two, who seemed to be enjoying themselves more every second.

"You'll have to guess who is who at the end of the day", one of them started and my face dropped at the same moment."Since we're nice, we'll just say it once", the other added.

"What if I don't succeed then? If there's a prank, I'm out."

"There won't be anything out of the ordinary, just an extra dose of us", I took a deep breath just imagining what my life would be like with these two following me around the castle. "So are you going to accept or not?", he raised an eyebrow.

I took a deep breath and looked away, a good opportunity had fallen into my hands but I would have the rest of my peace lost if I didn't win, which would be no small thing but a part of me was just screaming to accept it at once, the competitive part, the part that was going to win this little challenge.

"I accept, it won't be that hard", I replied with a smile, a wave of confidence built up inside me and I really thought it wouldn't be a problem at all.

"Okay then", they just walked past me and kept walking and if I could see my forehead, a big question mark would be hanging there, "Hey? You still have to tell me which is which, it was part of the deal", I said, taking a few steps behind them but they soon stopped and looked at me.

"Oh, you're so confident, do you really need us to tell you who's who?", I clenched my hands tightly to hold back the urge to kill him.

"Of course I don't need to but... HEY!It's not polite to leave a person talking alone", they had the audacity to walk off and wave at me on top of that.

7:30 a.m.

I wasn't going to get any help from them, why did I expect to get any? Obviously they don't want me to win but I will and they will have to swallow that. That's my new goal today, screw the herbology paper.

But now it would be more difficult, few people would know the difference, I would have to ask one of his friends or one of the other Weasleys who studied at Hogwarts.

I wasn't intimate with any of them but I had classes with some, we never spoke but I will change that today.

I just hope they actually tell me something useful, one of the twins could have easily told no one to help me and made everything even more difficult.

8:25 a.m

"Hey Kate, what's up?", I said with a smile just as she was about to pass me down the hall, it was really worth it to eat fast or I wouldn't have made it in time.

The expression on her face already told me everything, the same gleam in her eye that twins have when they are disturbing me, why do I get the impression that it won't be so easy?

"Good morning Y/N, do you need anything?", she said leaning against the wall with a mischievous smile that I chose to ignore. "Actually yes, you should already know, the Weasleys challenged me to set them apart and you as a friend should know how, anything is useful, anything really", I liked that she was direct because I could be too. I don't like wasting time with small talk, especially when I don’t have too much time.

"They actually told me it would happen, but they didn't tell me more details, what happens if you lose? Some kind of prank I bet.

"They will annoy me twice as much as they already do, I don't know how you manage to be friends with them, she stared at me for a few seconds and then grinned. "What?"

"I'll help you since you're asking me but maybe you'll soon see that it wouldn't be so bad to lose", I just nodded without really believing it would happen. "Fred is louder and generally more annoying, George is quieter and more careful. You can find out more by noticing for yourself, I'm going to get going, I want to practice a little before class begins", she pointed to the castle entrance.

"Thank you so much Kate, I'll owe you this one. See you later", I smiled and waved as she walked away from me after waving as well.

Now I know the basics but they might try to trick me, switch places or pretend to be the other one. I have to be prepared and there is only one way.

9:00 a.m

The bell rang and the halls filled with heads hurrying not to be late, especially the poor first year students heading for the dungeon. I could see some shaking on the way out of the Great Hall but my destination was completely different, I headed up the stairs along with the other forty years to Minerva's class.

There was no sign of any of the twins, if they had decided to skip this class my plan was destined to fail.

The class was about to start when the two of them entered without any hurry and I smiled internally for having kept an empty chair next to me, just in case.

"Are you gentlemen having a problem with your audition? The bell rang five minutes ago. This kind of behavior is not tolerated, Mr. Weasleys. Minus ten points for Gryffindor", her angry voice boomed, and no one seated dared to breathe.

"It won't happen again, professor", I was surprised not to hear any funny remarks as a comment and I'm sure she was too but didn't show it.

"Sit down and open your books, let's move one more step forward from yesterday's lesson...", she continued talking but I barely paid attention after one of them sat down next to me.

"So, you're George, you can tell me now that I already know", he looked a little surprised for a few seconds but soon regained his posture.

"How did you guess it? I didn't even say anything", he said looking at me intently and I just shrugged, I wasn't about to say since this is clearly a plus for me.

"That's a secret that will stay with me, it wasn't that hard", I commented, dipping my quill into the ink to start writing what Minerva was going over on the blackboard.

Behind us it was possible to hear Fred's excited whispers that I had learned to ignore after all these years. Now it seemed so much easier, it's not as if I hadn't noticed them both all this time, it's a bit impossible since they make themselves present everywhere.

We remained silent, since this is the only way I can concentrate. I even mentally thanked him for that, but it didn't seem to do any good today. My attention kept being drawn to the red-headed boy next to me, I couldn't help it.

Internally I blamed it on my will to win, because to do so I would have to pay more attention to him, that's all my body wanted to do, focus on George Weasley.

I only realized that I was crossing the line when I noticed that his cheeks started to take on a reddish tint and a shy little smile appeared. To make matters worse, there was Fred's giggles, who was watching everything with the best view; there was no way I could get away with this.

After this awkward moment, I forced myself to pay attention even though my desire was to get out of there, since he now decided to start watching me not as discreetly as he thought he was being. I was much better at that.

"Is there a problem?", I mustered up the courage to ask when it was already 15 minutes before the bell rang again.

I noticed him bite his lips and crack a small smile before looking forward again, "why would there be a problem?"

"You were looking at me", I answered quietly so as not to draw attention from the other students and especially from Minerva who was passing between the desks checking to see if everyone was practicing the spells correctly.

"You were looking at me before that, discretion is not your specialty, you know?", I was a few seconds without knowing how to answer that and in the meantime, I could see him savoring the fact that he had left me speechless.

"Yes, I was watching you to differentiate you better from your brother, and why were you looking at me?", I spoke in a direct tone looking him straight in the eyes and the other redhead's laughter sounded behind us and George gave him a nonchalant look, as did the woman, who had just passed us.

"Is something wrong Mr. Weasley?", she asked and of course, everyone around us had to pay attention too, because they had nothing else interesting to do.

"No, I just remembered a joke I heard, I could tell you if you want. I assure you it is very funny", he assured holding back the urge to laugh even harder.

"Your little jokes stay outside the room Mr. Weasley, and you all, if you haven't perfected today's transfiguration can get back to work", she caught everyone's attention and continued walking peacefully.

We ended up getting distracted from the main subject, he obviously took the chance of not answering me and just kept on training as I did.

12:00 a.m

We had the next 3 classes together and I stayed close to them and their friends as well. As I imagined everyone was very nice to me, we could have become friends much sooner if we weren't stuck in a fixed group of friends.

Some things had become much clearer in my head and others even more blurred. They didn't seem to be picking on anyone but me, although it hadn't happened all day. Then why? I was going to find out.

"Will you come sit with us today?", Katie said with an arm around Angelina's shoulders, both looking at me with a smile that wouldn't let me deny them anything.

"Sure, I'd love to. It's kind of funny that we have more things in common than I expected", I remarked as we walked slowly, with the hasty crowd in front of us. I would usually be with them but it's much better this way, time is not as important as catching up with everyone.

"I had no idea you liked quidditch, have you thought about joining the Ravenclaw team?", Angel, as she asked to be called, inquired and at that moment, I should but I didn't notice her gaze leave me and go to the twins, several times.

"I'm not as good at playing as I am at watching, so I prefer to stay in the stands", I replied with a small smile until I noticed everyone in that small group communicating with their eyes, which I chose to ignore.

"So Angeli, since when did you start playing?", I started the subject that was going to last throughout the entire lunch hour and it couldn't be better.

Everyone had some story to tell, I must admit that Fred's and George's were the funniest. At no time was there any kind of awkward silence, or a moment when I was not included in the conversation. I did notice that some of my classmates were surprised that I sat there, but in general they were looking at us because of the noise. Their special talent was talking, which I found refreshing since I could hear more and talk occasionally.

The worst part of it was that I ended up not paying as much attention to either George or Fred as I had planned, although now I know a little more about both of them and my new friends.

3:00 p.m.

After two classes of Aritmancia, I had a free period and many homework assignments to do and as I walked to the library, a familiar voice called out to me.

"Y/N!", I turned around and was faced with George and his broom near the stairs, not so far from me, "We are going to practice a little, do you want to come too?", I was about to say no, as I was already busy but then I remembered, I still had to guess who was who at the end of the day.

I had really forgotten and started to enjoy their company, I had to remind myself that I wanted to win and that it made perfect sense to spend some more time with him, if it meant that I could guarantee it. Or at least, I tried to convince myself of that.

"Sure, who else will be training?", I asked as I walked over to him and then we walked together to the castle entrance and towards the field. "Just Angelina and Fred, the others have classes or something to do," and I just nodded in agreement.

We hadn't spent any time alone since Transfiguration class and I didn't know what to say, as did he but I didn't feel uncomfortable, just lost in my own thoughts.

"You came to watch half the best quadribol team play today. You won't regret it," Fred was the first to speak up as soon as we arrived and I could only laugh, how could one person be so confident? I needed some tips.

"My expectations are higher than you Weasley, you better not let me down after that speech," I wasn't trying to be funny but I heard a chuckle come from the redhead next to me. "You're not out of it George, none of you. But remember, no pressure. I'm only going to judge a little bit," I said smirking, not really taking any of the words I said seriously.

"Go sit down and prepare to be impressed," the black haired girl gave the last words, grabbed her own broom and flew to the three right hoops as I hurried to the stands.

Luckily, I didn't miss much and less than 5 minutes later, I could tell with certainty how good the three were. They took turns as goalkeepers for Angelina, even though it wasn't really their position in the game.And after 15 minutes, the dynamic changed for the two of them to try to hit her, one at a time, for them to practice as beaters.

But honestly, I paid much less attention than I normally do. I couldn't tell them apart from so far away, and this realization made me face the shameless excuse I had created for myself. I just wanted to be there, and the reason for that I wouldn't say out loud.

More than 30 minutes later, the three of them instead of landing on the ground, came flying towards me and stopped by my side.

"So you can talk about how impressed you are now", I pretended to think for a few seconds and the indignation on his face was so funny I almost didn't say it but after such an arduous training like that, they deserved it.

"You guys were amazing, if someone from another house could watch the official training sessions I would really come to see more", I smiled and it was extremely adorable to see George's already red face redden even more after my compliment.

"You already know you can't watch the official practices, we are finally starting to understand each other", Fred said and took a step to hug me and I immediately took one back. "You're soaking wet Fred Weasley, don't even think about it. This is not the time for hugs".

"But I think it's a good idea sweetie, you can't hide from a Weasley, so just accept it", he said with an evil grin on his face and I was ready to run, I hated sweat especially when it wasn't mine but his long legs came into action once again.

"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever experienced, so you have something to be proud of after all", I complained, pulling away seconds after he had cornered me in the hug, which wouldn't have been so bad if it had been any other time.

"If that's the grossest one, you really don't know what's waiting for you honey. This is just the beginning," Angel said with a satisfied smile on his face. "But we better go now, I need a shower and we still have one last class today," she added and flew out of there after waving to us.

"Yeah, I need to take a shower too, I'll see you guys later," Fred said before getting out of there as quickly as possible, leaving me alone with George again.

"Well, do you want a ride? It's much quicker to get down that way," he smiled slightly at me and I agreed without a second thought.

I held his bare arm, because I thought it was better than hugging him and regret appeared immediately because I always had some issues with flying. It wasn't the worst thing in the world but it was far from being one of my favorites.

All I could do was close my eyes as we crossed the field, my hands automatically closed around his arm, the weather was windy and I could feel the shivers that went through his now red skin as well as mine.

It was a few seconds if I'm really honest but it didn't feel like it to me, I've never picked up a broom other than for classes and it's been a long time since I stopped having fun in those classes.

I was brought out of my thoughts when I felt my feet on the ground again.

"I'll see you later then, I haven't forgotten about the bet. You better be prepared," he gave me a beautiful smile and the consequences of that is the only thing I wasn't prepared for.

5:00 p.m.

There are those moments when you have to stop and ask yourself, what the hell is happening to me? For countless reasons obviously, and it was my turn. I didn't come up with any answers that made me blind to reality, which was really frustrating because that way it would be easier for me to just ignore.

But nobody told me it was going to be easy, which is a shame because I would have someone to blame.

All this played out in my head before I received an owl from them, telling me that I could go to the Gryffindor common room to finish our bet, along with the password for the day. I was prepared after being warned by basically all their friends, all I could think of on the way there were some spells, mainly revenge because I wouldn't let it go if there really was a prank.

But what happened was quite different, the place was quieter than I imagined, although they had many people sitting and talking normally including Fred and George.

"Oh hello stranger, you have finally decided to give us the honor of your presence, I can say for everyone, we are all grateful," I had barely stepped into the room when Fred spoke up with the most sarcastic smile I have ever seen, should I be confused?

"If I get all this reception every time I come here, I will definitely come back more often. Thank you, I feel very welcome," I said with an equally big smile, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Okay smartass, it's time for your answer," he continued speaking, the same voice but now that I was close, in front of them, I noticed that there was something very wrong there.

"Why are you talking like that George?", was my only thought, they were imitating each other, the voice was extremely similar, I could never tell the difference just by that, but looking at him, it is impossible to be mistaken.

Their expression dropped on the spot and I realized that there were more people watching me and maybe they knew the plan, because everyone was a little shocked too, was it that simple?

"That's impossible, who was the snitch that told you? Whoever it was, you're going to have a tough future," Fred even stood up and didn't bother to do another voice, he spoke and I was sure I won.

"Nobody told me, I didn't need much to realize that you guys were faking it. He spent the whole conversation scratching his arm, it's been like that all day," I pointed to George who had not taken his eyes off my person so far.

At that moment they looked at each other for a few seconds and then back at me. I should be happy but I wasn't. Even if I wasn't going to admit it out loud, they just proved to me how amazing they are and I wasn't going to lose that.

"Now that I've won, I want to change my reward. It's very simple, I want to reverse the reward and the punishment. I want an extra dose of Weasleys," I had to get a certain amount of shyness out of the way to say this but it was worth it.

It was worth it because I could see a sparkle in both of their eyes that went beyond a successful prank, it was worth it because I had the best years at Hogwarts with the best friends I could ever want. It was worth it because I found the best boyfriend in the world that day. I never thought I would be so grateful for a silly bet.

Harry Potter Masterlist

[cheesyficwriter]

37. “Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.” and/or 44. “What am I in your life? Because as of lately I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.” but make it angst with happy ending :]

Hi anon! Thanks so much for the request 😀 I love these prompts, so I am going to write both. Here is #37 to start things off - a tad bit of angst with a happy ending. Fair warning: quite a bit of cheesy dialogue up ahead 💜

Lie To Me

The last thing Ron Weasley expected to hear at nearly midnight on a Friday night was the sound of his fireplace roaring to life. He was still awake, rummaging through some remaining paperwork in order to wrap up a recent auror field mission. Ron dropped his quill instantly as his gaze settled on the familiar green flames, knowing that it could be only one of two people who had direct access into his flat, at any given hour of the day. 

His heart dropped as soon as he saw Hermione, even more so as he took in her disheveled face. Her eyes were blotchy and rimmed with red and her entire body was trembling, from her shoulders to her feet. 

"Hermione." He was up and crossing the room in a flash to get to her. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" 

Ron grasped her shoulders as Hermione collapsed her head into his chest, her body racking with sobs. "It's...Martin."

Martin. The bloke she had recently started seeing. Ron's anger was mounting as he searched Hermione's eyes for answers. 

"Did that fucker hurt you?" Ron's jaw tightened and he was vaguely aware of his fists clenching around her waist. 

"No," Hermione shook her head into Ron's shirt, "Nothing but my pride, anyway." 

Ron kept a steady arm wrapped around her shoulders as he guided her over to the sofa to sit down. She immediately leaned forward to put her elbows on her knees, her hands covering her face as she inhaled deeply. Ron instinctively began to rub her back soothingly, allowing her time to compose herself and explain further. 

"He ended things. Said that I am emotionally closed off and that I enjoy my work more than human interaction." 

Hermione wasn't one to typically fall apart from trivial words or opinions from other people. At least, not since Ron had notoriously called her a nightmare when he was eleven years old. She was tough and didn't often need validation from others that she is a good person. This time though, Martin's words appeared to have cut her deep and he wondered if all of those late nights at work were driving her a bit barmy, leaving her to believe that what Martin said had to be the truth. Knowing Hermione, she wouldn't even be considering his opinion of her if she didn't at least partially have the same notion about herself. 

"Lie to me, Ron," she pleaded up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes, "I don't care what you say. Just lie to me. Make me feel okay again."

His heart was drumming in his chest. There were so many lies he could tell, that he knew would surprise her, given her current self-esteem level. You're not beautiful. You're not the most brilliant witch I've ever met. You're not the last person I think about before I fall asleep. You're not the one that makes my heart race whenever I see you. So, it shocked him more than anyone, when a different set of words toppled out of his mouth. "I don't love you."

He could distinctly hear the sharp gasp that Hermione emitted from her mouth, her lips now parted along with a visible line appearing between her brows. "Wh-what?" 

Ron's eyes bored into hers unapologetically. Fuck it all, there's no turning back now. "You said for me to lie to you."

"You don't…" He could see her staring off towards the fire, attempting to process his words. Her head finally snapped in his direction, "...that's a lie?"

"Probably the biggest one I've ever told."

Hermione continued to regard him skeptically. "You're not just saying this because you think it's what I want to hear, are you?" 

"Well...you basically told me to do just that. But no, I think I'm saying this selfishly for myself more than you. ‘Cause I don't think I can bloody hold it in any longer." Ron's voice sounded incredibly scratchy, and he was certain his throat had dried completely up. His hand was now covering her own hand in her lap, an attempt to make his point clearer. 

Recognition dawned on Hermione's face. "You really…"

"Love you? Yeah, I really do." 

Hermione sniffled and looked up at him, her eyes glossy, with a soft smile. "Well, I love you too, you know."

Somehow, he didn't believe she meant it the same way and he groaned inwardly out of frustration. Ron squeezed her hand tightly. His voice was barely audible when he revealed, "I don't mean just friend love."

Ron could visibly see Hermione's pupils dilate and her lower lip tremble. "So you-"

"Yes."

"And you-"

"Yes."

"Well." After several, long seconds, Hermione croaked out an emotion that was a cross between a bitter laugh and a half-sob, "what am I sitting here crying over Martin for?" 

Ron brushed away the tears from her cheek with the soft pads of his thumb. His own eyes burned with a hopeful desire. "Am I completely delusional to believe that means…"

When he spotted her own eyes gleaming back at him, he knew he wasn’t.  "I'm in love with you too, Ron. I just never thought…" 

"You never thought what?" He was leaning forward now to touch his forehead against her own. Hermione hitched in a breath as Ron’s lips hovered just mere inches from her own, his breath hot against her face. 

"I never thought that you actually felt the same way."

"Now you're the delusional one." 

"After all this time…" Hermione was clearly going to say a lot more, but she was effectively cut off by Ron's lips pressed against hers. She moaned and leaned into the kiss with fervent passion. His whole body was buzzing with happiness. Her velvety lips roamed so naturally with his own, tasting as sweet as sugar. His tongue experimentally outlined her lips before Hermione opened her mouth wider to allow him entrance. Ron released a deep groan as his tongue collided with hers and he simultaneously intertwined his hands into her hair to massage her curls. 

Ron was twisting their bodies now, so that Hermione was lying flat on her back into the cushion of the sofa while Ron positioned himself over her, continuing to snog her slowly and tenderly, taking great care to savor the moment, as if it could all be gone tomorrow. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop...for her to pull away and decide that she didn’t mean the words she said, that this was all a mistake…

But she never pulled away. At least, not until she only pulled away, breathlessly, to quietly ask, “I don’t have to go home tonight, do I?”

Ron certifiably fell in love with her all over again and any remaining weight lifted off of his soul. He brought one hand up to graze gently down the side of her face, his mouth curving up into a lop-sided grin. “Hermione...you are home.” A happy sob escaped from her lips as her eyes sparkled beautifully back at him. 

He kissed her again, feeling wonderfully and fully alive. 

[zaynmirrors]

Fire on Fire: Part 14 (10k)

WARNINGS: SMUT. 18+ LIKE SERIOUSLY PLEASE. CURSING. TERRIBLE SMUT AND THOUGHTS. PLEASE READ IF YOU ARE 18 OR OLDER.

Pairing: 10k x pregnant reader.

                                                    Fourteen

10K glared at Murphy as we walked, I nudged him with my shoulder and he shook his head. I was tired, I had no more drive. I felt numb, like I had lost Angel all over again. I guess in a sense I had. 

We’d been going for days only stopping when Warren felt necessary. Which now it was at a campsite with small cabins. 

10k and broke off from the group to check out our little cabin making sure there weren’t any Zs. 

I dropped my bag and ax before plopping on the bed. 10k looks at me and I can tell he wants to say something but decided against it. 

“Say it” I said sitting up on my elbows looking him dead in the eyes. 

He lets out a heavy sigh. “Why are you okay with what he did?” 

“You think I’m okay with it? I would rather be dead right now” I shook my head. 

He scoffed “It sure doesn’t seem like it.”

“I don’t know what to feel if I’m being honest.” I pulled my knees up to my chest not caring about my boots being on the bed. “If she truly is safe like he says then she has a better chance” I rubbed my face trying to rid the tears welling in my eyes. 

He stayed silent, knowing I was right. I continue on, “I just lost the last thing I had of Angels, and I just feel so numb” He stepped closer as he heard my voice crack. 

10k knealed in front of me wrapping his hands around each of my arms. He stared deeply into my eyes with his sea of blues and greens. In this light however they looked more green. 

We stayed like that for a while until he leaned in, capturing his lips on. The kiss was soft but turned hungry, desperate. His hand left my arm, cupping my cheek. 

I reached up to grab at his goggles getting them off in swift pull, I discarded them. My hand traveled into his locks, giving a slight tug, earning a groan to escape his throat and vibrate against my lips.   

He threw all caution to the wind, his hands immediately going to my thighs gripping them tightly as he pulled me down to meet his bulge. I whined needing to feel him. 

10k managed to pull off my shirt and bra in one fell swoop. He gazed down, smirking at my undressed top half. His calloused hands rubbed up the sides of my torso, cold chills erupted on my skin as he made his way closer to his target. 

He kneaded my breasts in his hands, my sensitive nipples sending a tingle down to my mound. I moaned, writhing beneath him, aching for more. 

“Fuck, need you” His voice was husky, his breathing was ragged and I wanted nothing more than for him to fuck me senseless. He yanked down my pants and underwear as I worked on his buckle, opening his pants his cock sprang free. 

He ran his hand down to the base of my neck, grasping the hair and giving it a pull in the direction he wanted me to roll over. 

I laid on my stomach, ass in the air as he positioned himself. I was wet, almost dripping. I was starved for him, I was needy. 

Fingers gripped tightly in my flesh as he sunk in. The pain in my hips caused me to wince but it slowly melted away as he began to thrust in and out slowly. 

We craved one another, never really having alone time and as much as he hungered for me he wanted to take his time, savor it. 10k picked up speed, and I moaned as he fucked me into that mattress. 

An arm wrapped around my abdomen while a hand grabbed a fist full of hair, giving it a pull he wanted me closer. His sweat covered, toned chest met my back and the hand that was in my hair gripped at my neck. 

The new position allowed him to go deeper, hitting just the right spot. “Fuck” I cried out, he grunted in my ear as a response. His mouth attacked my throat, sucking in different spots certainly bruising my neck.

His grip on my stomach tightened, bending us slightly. “Fuck! Right there” I moaned out as his hand print was being etched into my neck with bruising force. My name left his lips in short breaths along with curses. 

I came first, his name falling from my lips as he continued thrusting into me chasing his own release. He came coating my insides, my name falling from his lips one last time. 

We stayed in that position, pressed against each other as we caught our breath. 10k was the first to move carefully pulling out, gingerly kissing my cheek down to the collarbone and gently moving his hand away from my neck. 

“Round two?” He asked with a chuckle. I just smiled. 

-

10k played with my hair as I laid practically on top of him, we were a mix of sheets and limbs. At this point I was sure we were both equally adorned with each other's mark. Neither of us said a word, we just enjoyed the comfortable silence.    

My mind brought me back to our conversation earlier. I did care that my child was missing, but if she was safe away from the things that go bump in the night, if she had a better chance it was- well it wasn't okay but it gave me ease. 

What world did she have to live in if we didn’t get Murphy to the randevu. I could tell you, a cruel dark one. It wasn’t one I necessarily wanted her to grow up in but it was the one she was brought in to. 

A world full of pain, darkness, and monsters not just the undead ones. I know there was no reason to trust murphy but I could tell he wasn’t lying as I looked into his eyes. As soon as we got Murphy to the location I was going to get my daughter. 

“What’re you thinking about gorgeous?” He asked, eyes gleaming down at me, I just smiled leaning up as I cupped his cheek giving him a peck. A smile fell on his lips. “I love you.” 

Those words fell from his perfect lips so easily and carefree. He’d never said them before though it was apparent that he loved me even without having to say it. 

“I love you too” I replied and he met my lips again.

-

The sun was starting to go down now, I had managed to get off the bed. I was starving, for actual grub. I slipped on my shorts and top before heading out quietly to grab some food. 

The team was huddled around the low flame of the campfire they’d built. “Well look what the cat dragged in” Doc says with a laugh. I just smile. 

“Where’s lover boy?” Murphy asks with his mouth full of food. 

“Asleep” I answered simply. Every stayed quiet unsure of what to say or do. I probably wouldn't know where to start either. This was a fucking mess. 

I eyed Murphy, he felt me watching. “What?” he said, I nodded my head over to the edge of the trees and gave him pleading eyes. He sighed and stood following me. “Look I don’t know why you took Emma but I’d like to know where she is” 

“I told you she was safe” he says shaking his head about to walk off but I grab a hold of his arm.

“I know but I don’t know what we’re walking into when we get to California. If I get a chance, I’m going back for her” I stated. Given the chance I would go back for her, even without 10k.

He sighed, “You won’t tell the kid” I shook my head, I wouldn’t tell him. It would halt the mission. Not that I’m big on the mission but if it helps save humanity and give a somewhat normal life for my little girl, I’d take it. “She’s at a farm house with a lovely couple an hour an hour and a half south from the camp in Illinois.” and with that he walked away. 

I chewed on my lip. I hated to keep this from 10k but it was a secret I was willing to bear. If I really wanted I could leave now, I could go get her. It was a viable option but I couldn’t do that 10k, right?

I walked back over to the fire and grabbed two bowls of grub before walking back to the cabin where 10k laid still asleep. My lips tugged into a smile as I set the Bowls on the nightstand and undressed once more, sliding in next to him. He wrapped around me desperate for more warmth. I ran my fingers through his hair and laid there waiting for him to wake up so we could eat.

Part 15

[doc-pickles]

don’t wanna keep you up

after a long day all Jo is craving is a hot shower and maybe a little relief from her husband....

due to personal reasons i have very little of my sanity left and I wrote this to preserve the little bit of it I had left. every single time I post another smut piece I think of when I posted my first one and @odd-birds-and-booksellers told me I wouldn't stop there... well she was right and I hate it.

TW// sexual content. that’s the whooooole damn fic.

It’s nearing 10 PM when she sneaks into the loft, bypassing Alex and their waiting bed in favor of a hot shower. Since she had left her last surgery all she’d been able to think about was stepping under the warm stream of water and forgetting about the long and strenuous day she’d had. She was nearly to the door of the bathroom when a low grumble broke the silence of the room.

“Where are you going?”

Alex’s voice is rough and sleepy as she looks in his direction. She grins at his half asleep state, the childish tone to his voice and his messy hair making her giggle. He’d had just as long a day as her, only getting home two hours earlier than she had.

“I need a shower, then I’ll be in bed,” Jo pads over to the side of the bed, pressing a kiss to Alex’s head as his fingers reach out for her. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

A satisfied groan leaves Alex as he buries himself deeper in the covers, letting Jo walk to the bathroom and strip out of her clothes. Stepping under the hot spray, a groan left her lips as she let the water relax her tense muscles. She’d had a frustrating day, being pulled every which way during her shift and not having a moment to breathe. The chance to relax and take a second to herself was not lost on Jo as she savored the steamy shower she’d been longing for.

After washing her hair, Jo stood under the water and grabbed her body wash, pouring a generous amount into her palm before soaping up her body. A moan slipped past her plump lips as her hand slid over her breasts, her nipples perking to attention at the slight brush of contact. Giving into the warm feeling that was now slowly creeping through her body Jo let her fingers linger there a moment more, pinching at the quickly hardening peaks with a gasp.

While one hand continued to lavish her breasts the other slipped down to her heat, the job of washing her body now long forgotten. Jo let her fingers spread her lips apart as she pressed against the cool shower tiles the feeling heightening the sensations running through her body. One slender finger dipped into her dripping cunt, a low moan leaving her as she curled it to hit where she desperately needed it.

After a few minutes of slow and torturous teasing Jo could tell that she wasn’t going to accomplish the task at hand on her own. Shutting off the water and quickly drying her body off, she slipped out of the bathroom and tiptoed across the loft towards her bed. Slipping quietly under the covers, Jo waited for Alex to spoon her like he did when she came into bed every night.

“Mm missed you today,” Alex’s husky voice sent a shiver down Jo’s spine as he rolled toward her, wrapping one arm around her waist. She could feel the audible groan of arousal that he released as he realized she was naked, his hot breath fanning across her neck. “Seems like you missed me too.”

She couldn’t bring herself to verbally answer Alex as he pushed her body down into the mattress, rolling his hips on top of hers as his bare chest met her own. Their lips collided together, tongues quickly battling for dominance as Alex’s hands slid up from Jo’s waist to her breasts. His fingers pinched at the skin, much the same as her own had earlier, until he twisted one harshly eliciting a gasp from Jo that had her panting beneath him. She could feel herself growing wetter by the minute as her naked heat pressed against his boxers.

“I bet you’ve been waiting for me all day,” Alex’s lips trailed down to bite at Jo’s ear, his breathy words brushing across the hot skin in a way that made her squirm beneath him. “I can tell you’re worked up already, did you touch yourself while you were in the shower?”

Jo nodded lightly, her eyes fluttering closed as Alex sucked harshly on her neck. One hand drifted down to her hot core, his fingers brushing against her so lightly that she almost begged for more as her body desperately tried to arch up into him, “You’re so fucking wet, were you thinking about me?”

Jo’s breathy whimpers spur Alex on, his lips trailing down from her neck to suckle on one of her breasts, the sensation almost sending her over the edge. His teeth dragged across her nipple, a cry breaking from her throat as she finally answered him, “God yes, you were all I was thinking about. You and your lips… your fingers… how well you fuck me. How… ah! How good you make me feel.”

Encouraged by her words Alex finally dipped his finger into her waiting heat, his long thick fingers reaching and stretching her in ways her own slender digits couldn’t. Back carelessly arching as Jo cried out, she begged desperately for her release as he set a quick pace bringing her to the edge. His teeth biting at the supple skin of her breast sent Jo into a frenzy of moans, her body writhing in pleasure as her orgasm washed over her.

Wasting no time, Alex let both his hands move to grasp at her hips and flip their positions, her hot core now grinding down onto his still clothed length. “Come here, I wanna taste you.”.

Jo instinctively leans down to press her lips against Alex’s, but he pushes her back with one hand, his other still on her hip. There’s a gleam in his eyes as she meets them, his smirk growing as he looks up at her, “Not what I meant princess.”

Both hands firmly planted on her hips again, Alex pulls her until she finally realizes what it is he wants. Settling her knees on either side of his head, Jo lowers her hips and lets Alex pull her hot core onto his face. She can feel him smirking still as she settles her hands at the top of the headboard, a shocked cry escaping her as his tongue darts out to circle her still sensitive lips.

There’s a slow tortuous moment where Alex’s tongue slowly circles her folds, simultaneously not bringing enough pressure but being light enough to make her thighs shake as she anticipates his next move. Then in one fell swoop he's dipping between her lips to lap greedily at her cunt, diving in and out of her center so quickly that Jo can barely contain the scream that leaves her.

“Oh my god, Alex,” her hips move of their own accord, grinding down in search of more pressure as Alex’s fingers grasp tighter at her thighs. “Oh fuck, don’t stop. Please.”

Her words die off quickly, turning into incomprehensible moans as Alex’s tongue flicks against her clit, her hips rolling forward as her second climax builds up within her. Her breaths come in pants, Jo’s head leaning against the headboard as Alex moves back to quickly fucking her with his tongue. The repetitive motion sets her off, her waiting orgasm crashing through her as a desperate moan falls from her lips.

“Alex, oh god, yes,” she can’t stop the words as Alex continues to lap at her folds, pulling her through her orgasm and pulling her right to the brink of another. She can hardly believe that he’s already pushing her towards a third climax, but the shockwaves of pleasure rolling through her body won’t stop. “Please, yes… don’t stop... oh god…”

Heeding her ask, Alex continues to circle her clit with his tongue, his teeth scraping gently at her folds and bringing her orgasm rolling in right behind the last. Her chest is heaving as she struggles to catch her breath, Alex pushing her hips up so he can move out from underneath her. His hands don’t stay away for long though, coming back to her hips and pulling them up as she rests her head against her pillow.

“What, did I wear you out already,” Jo barely has the motivation to look up at Alex’s megawatt grin, his hands stroking the soft skin of her waist gently as his dick presses against her still wet heat. The slight pressure makes her moan, prompting him to push the tip of his dick into her wet folds. “Do you want me to stop?”

She shakes her head, pressing her cheek against the pillow as she lets out a high pitched moan. Alex wastes no time in pushing his full length into her, his hips rocking slowly against hers as she grasps tightly onto the sheets, “Don't stop. Please… don’t stop baby.”

His pace is slow at first, Jo feeling every movement as Alex pulls almost all the way out of her and then presses back in. Her body stretches deliciously with him, her hips rocking back against his in a bid to encourage him to move quicker. When he finally does pick up speed, she almost regrets taunting him to do so. Each thrust hits deep within her, the string of moans and curses that leave her become more and more unintelligible the faster he moves above her.

“Not gonna last long if you keep moving your hips like that,” Alex’s words spur Jo on, her hips keeping time with his frantic thrusts as he lets a groan out. His hands clutch her hair, pulling tightly and eliciting a moan from her. “Keep moving, come on baby I’m so close.”

The combination of Alex’s hand pulling at her hair and his firm grip on her hips sends Jo into overdrive, her hips moving wildly as she presses her face into her pillow and muffles the moan that borderlines a scream as another orgasm ignites her body. Alex’s thrusts turn sloppy as she contracts tightly around his shaft, a satisfied groan leaving him as his hips still and he spills himself inside of her.

Jo barely registers Alex pulling out of her and gently resting her hips against the mattress, his arms wrapping around her waist as he settles into bed beside her. Her body, now sated and exhausted, instinctively curled around his as she closed her eyes and began to drift off.

“Satisfied now?”

“Mmm shut up.”

[chaoticowlpost]

Moving Forward

Part 1

Draco sat in Pansy’s guest bedroom, all lights turned off with sheets still unmade.

After apparating to her house, she just took one look at him before pulling him in and holding him in a tight hug. She made Draco some tea and wrapped him in a blanket in the living room, waiting until he calmed down before asking what happened.

After a quick explanation, because Pansy already had an idea of the situation, she had offered him a place to stay until he figured out what his next step was going to be.

By his count, he’s been there for little over a week now with no contact from Harry. He was starting to think that maybe he had given up on them as well.

With a sigh, Draco leaned against the headboard and toyed with the ring that gleamed on his finger despite the darkness, oddly reminiscent of his lover.

Of course he still wanted to marry Harry. He loves him; it was just a matter of how long would their relationship last if he kept up like that. With how irresponsible he was being, it was likely that their marriage would end either because of an accident on the field, or the fight that would come after if he could be healed.

Still, even though the thought of losing Harry in such a painful way made his heart hurt, somehow, for some reason, he felt that losing him when he wasn’t his wouldn’t be as bad as losing him while they were together. 

In his mind, he weighed the benefits and problems if he were to go back - to push himself to deal with it because in the end, he’d always love Harry Potter, just as he’d done since they were in school.

This was a man who stayed with Draco despite his past - despite their past. He treated Draco with such kindness and love that he never thought possible, and Draco had always sworn himself to do the same.

And yet, would it be a healthy relationship if he were to go back? Would they actually be able to ignore the problem and just survive on loving each other?

He sighed again, this time dropping his head. He felt tears form in his eyes once again and his heart clench, missing Harry dearly.

The decision would be so much easier if he were here. Harry would comfort him; find a way to reassure him despite everything and just remind Draco of how much they love each other for them to let go like that.

He’d return in a heartbeat, never mind what the actual right decision was.

“Harry,” he whispered his name into the empty room. “I miss you.”

Draco didn’t know when he fell asleep nor what time it was when he awoke. All he knew was that he sensed a presence seated on the edge of the bed and the scent of an all too familiar cologne in the air.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, shifting where he sat. “You’re awake.”

He must be hallucinating. Maybe he finally died of grief or lost his mind, because surely this was just his imagination.

“I’m here, love,” Harry said, his voice still soft. Draco hadn’t even realized he’d spoken aloud. He squinted his eyes, still somewhat bleary from having just woken up, focusing on the sad smile that his fiance wore.

Draco shifted his gaze to an empty spot on the wall behind his lover. “I didn’t think you were going to come for me,” he whispered.

“I’d always look for you,” Harry said sincerely. “I just wanted to give you some space.”

“I’ve had time to think,” Draco said, releasing a shaky breath. 

“And what conclusion did you come to?” Harry’s voice didn’t quiver, but Draco could still hear the tension in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Draco responded honestly. “That I’ve had enough space? What have you been doing?”

“I thought about what you said,” Harry told him, moving himself before stopping abruptly, almost as if he wanted to sit closer to Draco. His heart hurt again, longing for any contact with Harry.

“And?” Draco prompted, starting to feel nervous himself.

“And you were right,” Harry sighed, and Draco felt his heart stop. What did he mean by that? Was it possible that he meant it was right for Draco to leave him permanently?

As if sensing Draco’s distress and confusion, Harry quickly added, “I mean you were right about how things never changed, and I didn’t fully comprehend how hard it must have been for you because in my mind I’ve only been focused on my own physical injuries and how I thought I was the only one in pain.”

“Oh,” Draco breathed, some sense of relief flooding into him.

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly, looking down at his hands. “And I didn’t want to go to you without a solution; one I can make a promise on.”

Hope flared up in Draco’s chest. Whether or not it was a good or permanent solution was not at the forefront of Draco’s mind. All he knew was that there was hope for them, and that he loved Harry.

“I resigned.”

“What?” This made Draco freeze. He didn’t want Harry to resign as Head Auror, despite what he had to say about his job.

“I told them I couldn’t keep risking myself like that anymore because it was starting to take a toll on me physical health,” Harry shrugged, as if what he said wasn’t a big deal.

“Wait- So you....?” Draco couldn’t even think of the right question to ask. 

“Apparently they were waiting for me to say that,” Harry chuckled, a genuine smile forming on his face which made Draco’s breath still. “They offered me to be Head of the DMLE. My work starts in 3 months.”

A political position. One that required little to no field work since those were mostly handled by the Head Auror or whichever head of the other sub-departments.

Draco didn’t even bother holding himself back this time. He practically sprung off the bed and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, holding him tightly. Harry’s hands immediately went to Draco’s thighs, shifting them so that he was practically seated in Harry’s lap.

“That’s brilliant, Harry!” he said, tears forming in his eyes from how much he missed being close to his fiance and from relief at the knowledge that they would be alright.

“But wait,” Draco said, suddenly pulling away. There was a small, strange feeling at the back of his head that he wanted to get out. “You’re not quitting just because of me, right?”

He didn’t want Harry to take the job, only to resent him later and possibly blame Draco for influencing him to move.

“Of course I am,” Harry said. At Draco’s distressed look, he let out an amused laugh before bringing a hand up to brush a stray lock from Draco’s face. “But I’m also doing it for me. I told you, you were right. I’ve been injured too many times over the past few years. I should start worrying about my own health.”

“I’m sorry, you know,” Harry added, looking directly into Draco’s eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize until now, and that you’ve been hurt because of me.”

“It’s okay, Harry,” Draco said honestly, just happy that they can finally move on. “I’m just glad that you’re here. With me.”

He felt all the tension from the past week leave his body and pressed a deep kiss against Harry’s lips, savoring the feeling of just being there with him.

Sometime during the kiss, Harry had moved to take hold of Draco’s hands, entwining their fingers before abruptly pulling away.

Confused, Draco followed where Harry’s eyes were staring, only to realize that he was looking at their hands.

“What?” Draco asked, slightly worried.

“You’re still wearing it.” Without waiting for Draco to ask what it is, he lifted Draco’s hand to his face hand twirled the ring on his finger.

“Of course I am,” Draco said, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Sorry, I just-” Harry’s voice sounded scratchy as his breath caught his throat. “When you said that you were done, I thought that you meant forever. That maybe you’ve already taken off the ring.... You said you hated me.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco apologized, rather belatedly, he realized. “I didn’t think...”

“I know,” Harry said understandingly, resting his forehead against Draco’s. ��I know now.”

“I don’t think I could ever give us up,” Draco said honestly. “And I don’t think I could ever hate you, either. I wasn’t thinking, and I’m sorry.”

He watched as Harry absorbed his words thoroughly, his eyes searching Draco’s, possibly for any sign of insincerity. 

“I love you, Harry.”

The reaction was immediate. Harry’s face lit up before he kissed Draco’s hand, just above the ring. 

“I love you too,” Harry said before pulling him into another kiss. “Shall we go home?”

“Please,” Draco rasped, a smile of his own spreading across his face.

“And by the way...”

“What”

“I have a few months before I start working again. Why don’t we start with wedding preparations?”

————————————————–

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[goldnsyren]

ooh could you write Winter holiday prompts #2 with rose and tommy please? 🥺

➻ Summary: Tommy tries to tell his wife no; Tommy see’s his mistake...

➻ Rating/Warnings: T; marriage-fluff, holiday themed.

➻ A/N: Prompt #2 [That tree is not fitting in our house] ♡ Inspired by Tom Rosenthal’s Home cover.

The woods that bordered their home were wide, but not overwhelming. A feature that had attracted Thomas to the property when he’d first purchased it. Earlier this morning he’d seen the first sign of lighter snowfall, a perfect backdrop to enact his plan. He’d wasted little time handing Charlie off to the maid before quickly convincing Rose to dawn a coat and follow him to the car.

The drive to the woods was only a minute, maybe two. Enough for Rose to ask what they were doing, but short enough for her not to be annoyed when he refused to answer.

“Pick.” He’d simply explained as he opened her car door. “Any one you want. Just give the word, Rosie.” He’d foolishly said. Thomas pushed aside the warm feeling her giddy smile gave him, motioning to the woods before he helped her out of the car. Thomas picked up the axe from the back seat, sparing one more glance at their new home in the distance before following after her.

While it was not the couple’s first Christmas together, it was the first to take place at Arrow House: the estate in which they would raise their children and live out their days. Even Thomas could feel this Christmas was a special one…

Rose hadn’t needed to be told twice to figure out what they were doing. Eyes alight in soft wonder, she couldn’t help but bite her lip before wondering off like a kid in a candy store. She had walked critically around the smaller Firs springing up just in time for harvest. Some short and robust while others a little leaner and taller. For a while Thomas let her wander, following dutifully behind as she jovially commented on the merits of each one. His subtle nod and hums of acknowledgment all he would give back as his mind began drifting to the paperwork still waiting at home.

It was this oversight that had led them deeper into the woods, where the younger saplings were grossly outmatched by their mature counterparts. Thomas’ gaze left the back of his wife to turn upwards. Snow clouds gently drifted overhead despite the midday hour, a light flurry of snow gently drifting down.

A dark thought gently touched his mind, a distant winter years ago that was forcibly pushed aside by the faint sound of his wife’s commentary feet ahead. The axe was dropped to the snow covered ground beside him. Reaching into his long winter coat, he was thankful to find he still had a cigarette left. He savored the warmth of the flame against his palm as he shielded it from the light breeze. The lighter snapped shut with a resounding click. The memories of winter’s past firmly cast aside with it.

From his left, Rose called for his attention with a decided tone. Her eyes wide and pleading and a cheerful smile on her face. Thomas almost missed the tint of guilt on her winter flushed cheeks. Her hand gently held the lower branch of the tree beside her. A tree that was unmistakably more than double her height.

And Rose Pryor was not a short woman.

Tommy turned his body, equally perplexed and baffled by two things. First, how she had left his line of sight and moved so quietly on the snow covered ground he hadn’t heard her. Second, how she had come to decide this monstrosity would be their tree.

Thomas plucked the cigarette from his mouth, eyes crinkling in disbelief as he motioned to the behemoth before him. “That tree is not fitting in the house, Rosie.”

Her eyes, indeed merry and bright, seemed to widen. A mischievous grin split across her face. “Is that a challenge, Thomas?!”

Her soon to be husband could only rub a gloved hand over his face, a tired sigh escaping him. While he had indeed given her limitless options, he’d expected her clear headed and rational about it all the same. A clear mistake, in hindsight. Thomas pulled his hand from his face, motioning to the vast selection around them. “Pick another.”

To other’s it may have sounded like a command. But anyone who knew him intimately could hear the plea in his tone. They were surrounded by perfectly good saplings, all of perfectly acceptable heights and vivaciousness. Thinner ones a good ten feet tall, fuller ones no more than eight…”

Rosie didn’t miss a beat. “I picked this one.” She gently tilted her head, calmly reminding him of the words he’d uttered as he helped her out of the car. No more than twenty minutes earlier.

Thomas stared at his wife with tell-tale exasperation, livid exhaustion at the untimely act of grandiose. He gave a sharp drag of his cigarette, schooling his features as he calmed himself from the shock of surprise. Thomas plucked the cigarette from his mouth once more, blowing the smoke out of his nose as he tried a different tactic. “Where the fuck would it even go, Rosie?” His brows raised in challenge.

Rosie stepped back, admiring the mountain of a fir before them. “Well this one in the main room, of course. I think towa-”

“This one?!” Thomas bent a bit forward as if he’d misheard her. Rose simply hummed, gentle fingers fiddling with the needles of a branch as she began picturing just how she’d decorate it.

Thomas’ eyes strained up to the top, the highest branch still a small nub compared to it’s robust base, a good fifteen feet above the ground. “Absolutely not.” His voice was firm, littered with disbelief.

Sensing her fiance's growing irritation, Rose gave a small pouting frown, examining him with the corner of her calculating gaze. She reluctantly released the tree’s branch and returned to her husband’s side. A dramatic sigh escaped in a faint plume of fog as she gazed at it fondly.Tommy peered at her from the corner of his eyes, drawn to the pout on her lips, the flush of cold blush on her cheeks and nose, the gleam in her eye. She took his arm in her own, laying her head on his shoulder. “I suppose it is quite big…” She agreed.

Far too big, he agreed. He was wise enough not to share these thoughts. Instead, he didn’t look away from the head of his wife tucked close to his own. The late morning had meant to acknowledge the uniqueness of this season together. A gesture born from the desire to be both practical, and dare he say, romantic...

A churn of guilt built in his stomach.

“I suppose I’ve just let my dreams get the better of me.” She softly admitted, an inflection of disappointment in her words.

Such obvious manipulation… And yet so very effective...

Thomas closed his eyes, stifling a sigh as he flicked the worn out cigarette into the snow below.

“I just want our first Christmas to be perfect.” Perfect, not special, because it certainly already was to her. A coy smile replaced her pout as she shared her thoughts unabashed. “Oh how handsome you’d look reaching the top for me, carrying Charlie as you boys laid the garland. It’s just big enough to fill up that big room. Big enough Charlie could crawl under and chase the dogs-” amused laughed bubbled from her. “He’ll be too big to do so, soon enough..”

Thomas closed his eyes, jaw tight as he was tempted to berate her for such obvious manipulation. Instead it only increased the effectiveness of the vision she’d put in his head. Indeed the sight of Charlie crawling about, being dragged out by his mother when he attempted to get into the presents wrapped in lively paper, made his lips twitch. He’d see the boy’s big eyes, same as his own, gaze adoring at the bright lights, reaching for the strings of cranberry and popcorn as he was held. And Rose, sweet Rosie aglow as she fussed and fiddled with every detail of it in a way only she would. How happy she’d be...

Thomas felt his hands tighten in his coat pocket. Fucking hell...

Rose seemed to sense his cracking resolve, “Are you sure, Tommy?” Her arms tightened around his own, warmly pressed against him as she peered up at him. Those sea-foam green eyes he adored positively shamelessly beginning.

Yes, was his gut instinct, still upset at the sheer size of it. But his tongue felt heavy with the images she painted.

He did indeed enjoy the thought of watching her twirl about the greenery with her usual gentle and particular touch, Charlie on her hip, a self satisfied grin on her face as she placed the Parisian glass ornaments her mother had sent them on the branches. The bottom filled with bountiful presents for them all, even those who’d yet to make an appearance...

Thomas stared at the stomach of his soon to be wife, the thick coat he’d placed on her easily hiding the growing swell of her stomach. Yes, Charlie was bound to be spoiled rotten on his final Christmas as the center of attention.

It’d be a far cry from the Christmases he and his siblings had shared. And just like that, it settled in his gut.

He’d make sure of it...

The Shelby titled his head down, pressing his warm lips against Rose’s cold forehead while we watched the snow softly drift down from above. “Alright, Rosie.” He mumbled against it. She wasted no time in unwrapping their arms, grabbing him by the scarf to pull in into a fuller kiss in Thomas picked up the axe he’d laid by his feet, not hesitating to give a few quick chops. A mark, for when he returned with the army of men it would surely take to move it.......

Taglist: @chlobenet @john-silver @omg-soufflegirl @ocappreciation @allaboutocs

[the-fox-knows]

‘I’ll Tell You A Story’

I’ll Tell You A Story (5)

“It was 2019; June to be precise when I traveled to the United Kingdom — or as you would know it, this island of divided kingdoms.” She paused, her gaze cautiously reading his features as his own gaze slipped away from hers. His eyes were narrowed and calculating, a single line marring his brow as he stared at the cave wall, seeing beyond their cramped shelter. Molly knew what he was seeing, for she was seeing it too. That Northumbrian wood; the confusion, the fear, and the ultimate determination that ruled them both that day. He had wanted her, but she had wanted her freedom. Her will had ruled.

“These lands: Wessex, Northumbria, Mercia, they do not endure as separate entities. They will combine into a single kingdom – England. That’s what it will be called,” she told him, thinking to influence his belief by offering tantalizing facts of the future she felt he would be unable to resist. She read him well, for his glazed eyes blinked into focus ere swiveling to the corner until they rested on her. A cautious grin quirked his lips, though she read little humor in his expression. She understood it was the façade he adopted when he wished to keep his true thoughts to himself; the flash of a grin only to be supplanted by a frown that conveyed the genuine depth of his interest.

“You claim to be from the future?” he asked quietly, his grin immediately dipping out of sight. The fire stood out like a live thing reflected in his stare. His eyes fixed on her while his posture appeared still, as if he wouldn’t take his next breath until he had riddled the puzzle that she was.

“Yes,” she nodded, holding his gaze.

“How?” he put to her. His expression was at once laced with a coating of cynicism, though, once settled into his question Molly recognized a gleam in his eye that gave her courage enough to believe in that questing wisdom she was relying on.

Recognizing this moment for what it was, she swallowed, gulping past her nerves as her fingers inched their way to her elbows where she held herself tightly. Only a beat of hesitation marked the moment when Molly Hatch decided to bridge the chasm that had yawned beneath her feet for so many years; to extend her hand and let somebody in. It somehow didn’t bother her that it was the Viking she was reaching for. During the past twenty-four hours he had lost his moniker and gained the identity of his person. He was Ragnar Lothbrok, a man she had a precarious history with, but the one who presently sat across from her willing to listen.

“I was on the shore,” she began, her voice thick, “in Scotland. You don’t that country because it hasn’t been formed yet, but it’s the land where you first found me.”

His head tilted as his narrowed eyes smoothed into a more pensive expression. He took his first breath.

“The rain had abated somewhat, and I don’t remember being concerned over lightning,” she continued. “My friends were waiting for me up in our rooms. There were three of them: Cathy, Ellie, and Gracie,” she said, taking care to say their names slowly, as if to savor the memory of what had once been a daily curl of her tongue. “We were visiting from our home - from America.”

She paused again, furrowing her brow as she tried to remember dates. “Do you know a Lief Erikson? Or perhaps know of him?” she wondered. She briefly remembered learning that that Viking had been one of the first, or maybe the only Northman to make it to North America before Christopher Colombus in 1492.

“I know many Lief’s,” he obliged, though looking uncertain of the question. “Why do you ask?”

“It is only that Lief Erikson will be a well-known explorer. He discovers North America. It’s the land that will eventually be my home,” she elaborated when she detected a hitch to his brow. “Do you know him?” she repeated.

“No, I cannot say that I do,” he answered. The ghost of his grin reappeared, hidden somewhat by his beard. And if Molly knew him better, knew all the quirks of his features and the glance of his expressions she would understand that the intensity of his stare was not mere focus, that the slight cant of his head no mere intrigue — but a growing triumph.

“It may be that he is after your time,” she shrugged a little disappointedly. She’d hoped that she’d unearthed a link that could be used to her advantage, unaware of the already shifting dynamic occurring between them in her favor. Molly believed that hers would be an uphill battle, trying to convince him of something she herself wouldn’t have believed in prior to experiencing it. In spite of her immersion with the culture of the time, she could not abandon the skepticism that belonged to her own culture, nor help apply it to what others would think of her story.

“This noorth umairika, you say it is the land you hail from? Where is it?” Ragnar wondered, drawing his good leg up and resting his elbow on it. He was leaning a little closer.

“Far from here,” she said, drawing her own knees up, though in a more protective stance as she hugged them to her chest. “It lies across the sea.”

“Which sea?”

“The Atlantic.”

Ragnar’s eyes narrowed again. “There is land beyond the Atlantic?”

Molly nodded, adding, “quite a lot of it. You Europeans think you’re the center of the world until the 1500’s. Or sometime around there. I was never good in history class,” she went on to explain, no doubt nonsensically to him.

“What other lands are there besides your home?” he continued with his inquiries, causing Molly to grimace slightly. She had wanted to sweeten the pot initially with these snippets of facts, but steadily she could feel her impatience mounting as the momentum she had gained for her own history was waning.

“There are many; too many to name presently, though I will tell you that there are three Americas. There is the North, Central, and South Americas and each is made up of countries . . . er, that is, a form of kingdom.”

“When does this Leif Erikson discover these lands?” he asked, already forgetting her ignorance on the dates.

“I told you, I don’t know. It must be after this time though as I’m sure you would’ve heard about him. And besides, he only landed on North America. He likely wasn’t aware of the expansiveness of the land.”

“What is the distance? How long will it take to reach your land?”

Molly blinked. “I don’t know! Months and months I’d assume.”

Ragnar’s brow furrowed. “How can you not know when you say you journeyed from that land?” His glance turned suspicious. Yet Molly could only indulge in a rueful smile as she envisioned a plane flying over his head as explanation.

“Travel does not remain the way you know it to be, Ragnar. Between the thousand years that mark your time to mine many things evolve into creations beyond imagining. I do not think you would understand even if I told you how I traveled to this island, for nothing of its kind exists today, save perhaps the winged beasts.”

Ragnar jerked his head back, his mouth wavering between that uncertain smirk and that curious frown as his eyes flicked to the mouth of the cave and back.

“You can fly?” he posed to her, clearly not believing. And Molly was glad to be able to shake her head.

“No, I cannot fly. But men have made machines that can.” And before he could ask another question, she ploughed on. “Whatever you wish to know, I will tell you - to the best of my knowledge,” she said, her voice deliberately low so that he would be inclined to listen and not speak. “I will tell you about America and all the countries that will be new to you. I will tell you of the plane, train, and automobile; how people can travel across the world in a day; how we can speak to those far, far away and hear their voices in our ear. I will tell you about Neil Armstrong and his famous footprint on the moon. I will tell you all this and more – but, first . . . first I need to tell you a story. My story.”

And she did.

Of that day she told him everything. It was either say it all, or maintain her silence – she could not imagine an in-between. As an outpouring, long bottled and static with energy waiting to be released, Molly found that the words she had mentally tripped over, prior to her decision of telling Ragnar, poured fluidly from her mouth and into his sponge-like mind – absorbing everything with ardor.

Occasionally, when her eyes would flick to his, she would watch him, noting his stillness that marked his absolute focus. He did not interrupt her again, not even to inquire over words she knew he couldn’t understand – words she couldn’t translate, though she did her best to explain. He was her audience, and as any good auditor, he knew what was required of him. When she paused to recollect a moment, or had to turn her face away to hide unbidden emotions, she was not hurried to continue.

In lieu of that courtesy, she indulged in speaking of events leading up to the trip, of bidding her parents a teary farewell at the airport; of her and her friends accidentally insulting one of the flight attendants by referring to them as English when they had, in fact, been Scottish; of landing in Heathrow and waiting over an hour for Gracie’s duffle bag. She spoke of a thousand and one things she had forgotten, lost somewhere in the hazy limbo of her interrupted life, but which now sprang forth as if resurrected.

While she spoke the night wearied, falling into shade and quiet. Hour followed hour, yet her soft tones did not dim in the presence of the watchful night. The only other companion to her voice was the snapping flames beneath the long-forgotten tea that bubbled in its neglect. It was only when the brew spilled passed the sides of the cauldron, hissing immediately at the contact with the flames, that attention was returned to it. Molly jerked out of her compact position, rising to her feet as she grabbed a fistful of her skirts to lift the cauldron from its perch, hissing herself at the heat. Quickly, she set it near the fire, releasing her grip and rubbing her hands together.

“I’m afraid it’s a bit burnt,” she told him, looking up from inspecting the brew. She swished it only to see the herbs shriveled and black.

“It is of no matter,” he said, unconcerned. “I would hear the rest of your story before soothing any stomach aches.”

From where she stood, Molly looked down at him, aware that a small smile tugged at her lips. A fanciful vision of a monk dressed as a nursemaid coming to serve out a stretched out Ragnar, undone by a serious tummy ache, distracted her momentarily as she remembered that the monk’s brew was for easing digestion. Her smile grew wider and threatened to morph into a chuckle.

Her heart was lighter. The burden of carrying her secret for so long no longer weighed on her even though she had yet to conclude her narrative. Yet, already she felt the ease of old manners returning to her as she remembered her old self. Intangible as it was, there was a certain amount of happiness that existed in simply being able to talk about her old life to another human being.

So as she resumed her seat, a tad closer to Ragnar than before, there was no pause or hesitation when she picked up the threads of her tale and continued.

“We were making a tour of the United Kingdom and Ireland, as I said, but I was always most excited to see Scotland. I’d dreamt of the Highlands and the heather, of the whiskey and kilts, of all the romantic associations with the place; my father even noted that I had an unhealthy interest in the pipes and drums.” She did stop then, only for a moment as she found what peace she could in the phantoms she’d summoned. She sighed. “I’m sure it’s best that I never got to see it in the end; it might not have lived up to my expectations.” Tentatively , she offered her companion — the one of flesh and blood, and the only one who could hear her — a glimpse of a smile that told a completely different story to the one that had just preceded it, and which forgot in that moment that he wouldn’t understand her silver-lining humor, as paltry as it was.

His eyes may be keen, either fixed as they were on her face or hovering just around her; brilliant in their intensity and strength yet, at that moment, lacking the spark of any recognition for anything she had just said.

Her face drooped suddenly, exposed as it was to the rawness of the many strong emotions required this night.

The relief that had belonged to the minute before was gone, usurped by the realization of reality. No matter the chances of ever getting close to anyone – and so far this Viking was the nearest to a heart-to-heart she’d had in six years – the nuances of her time would forever remain the property of its time; locked away behind the secrets of its knowledge that would always remain a barrier between her and others. The comfort of remembering home was hers; just not the comfort of home.

In a whirl of contained emotion, never flickering past the internal storm of her mind, Molly at once wanted to throw herself at Ragnar, cling to his chest and just be held as she sobbed and felt sorry for herself; yet in that same brand of impulsiveness she wanted to run – to run in a pointless direction, but one that took her far from the cave, far from him, and far from everything that resembled anything that had been her familiar for the past half-decade.

Swallowing, she steadied herself. Her thumbs were busy picking at each other’s nails, scoring her skin in a pattern of crescents.

She told him of the beach.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she told him of that landmark whose grey skies had blackened the water and appeared as the shores of superstition, serving as a portal that had opened for her unwilling passage.

The years spent serving Lady, then Lord Cyneric had been kind in one regard: never had she known her mind as well as she presently did. Despite her duties and chores, they claimed nothing of her time as the convenience of modern technology had. Days regularly burst at the seams with work, thoughts, and sometimes, even play. Boredom was no longer a constant in her vocabulary; indeed, she regularly forgot the word with how little she thought of it. What she did think of, however, and what had occupied her thoughts during her more menial tasks was the day in which she had stood on that shore. The tide had been low, and even then — ignorant as she had been — she had mused over thoughts of in-between places; crossroads, dusk, dawn, and of course that strip of sand, appearing only at its designated hours when the sea was low, so that that in-between area was not quite of the land, nor yet of the sea.

And that, she believed, had been her portal.

All this she told him; explaining her reasoning that found grounding in the very nature of the mystic land.

“There are stories – legends and myths, though, I don’t know their names in this speech – that tell of unwary travelers who find mischief done to them; the wanderer who does not heed the natural warnings of nature and find themselves in, what would be called, a fix. These stories are not so ancient as they once were to me, their narrative has more meaning as I now know that there is power in their messages,” she said, drawing her legs to her chest. She rested her hands atop her knees, picking at the fabric. “My sole regret is that I couldn’t have known that their significance endured even while my culture’s credence of them waned. I would not have stood on that shore otherwise.”

“Do people of your time not tell stories then?” Ragnar asked, speaking for the first time in many hours. He looked dubious, as if he was ready to argue her statements by using what he learned about her journal against her. Molly recognized it also as an admission. Despite his first hint of skepticism ere she began, and despite the natural aversion of Man’s to being fooled by seemingly impossible phenomenons, Molly had opened herself to him in a way that exposed her heart, showing him something precious and protected by unraveling her fabricated life.

Also – he had listened.

“For we have many that do much to warn the little ones away from danger,” he continued. “Maybe you did not listen as a child,” he said, pointing a finger at her nose in a playful, tsking manner. She resisted the urge to reach over and swat his hand back to his lap.

“Your people then have precautionary tales of traveling through time?” she said instead, partially rhetorical as she didn’t believe that the Norse did; though, also a little curious in case of the possibility.

Ragnar let his hand drop, adopting a rueful smile as he eyed her from under his brows. His quirked mouth turned thoughtful, however, and he gazed at her straight-on. She saw him only by the faint, ruddy glow of the now dwindled fire; more ember and ash then flame.

“You truly are from another time?” he asked quietly, almost marveling. His eyes were the only point of light on his face; two pricks of focus that somehow carried more expression than a torrent of voiced wonder.

“I am,” she answered simply. She wondered if he saw the same in her; two points of light staring back at him. The lights were disturbed when he blinked, turning his head away, looking forward as he had at the beginning. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind, the formulating questions, and the now deepened curiosity that she must undeniably hold.

“Well,” he said with a grunt, adjusting his position so that he sat straighter against the wall. He returned his gaze to hers. “I suppose I must concede to your claim – you have traveled farther than me.”

“Yes,” she chuckled, “my adventurous desire of walking in the rain in a foreign country has inadvertently seen me outpace the ambitions of any Northman seeking new land.”

Molly only just caught his smile as he leaned forward, taking up one of the sticks to jab at the fire. A ripple of warmth spread suddenly, tempering the chill air of the night and reminding her that she was hugging herself tightly in defense against the cold.

“Have you ever tried to return?” Ragnar asked, keeping his eyes on his work.

“Once,” she replied after a pause. “A week after arriving in that town you and your men had sacked,” she interrupted herself in order to deliver a long-in-the-making glare. The Viking at least had sense enough to remain quiet. “I found my way back to that beach. I stayed out there until I couldn’t bear the hunger any longer. I don’t remember how many days, but nothing happened. The road that had vanished didn’t reappear, and when I returned to the village I found it immediately. It hadn’t worked.” Molly often wondered if it would if she could reach it on the anniversary date of her arrival. But as of yet, she’d never been able to make it.

“It sounds temperamental,” he remarked, uselessly twiddling the stick between his palms, working a hole through the fire.

“Extremely temperamental!” she heartily agreed. “At least with you – well, you are very consistent; I always know what to expect from you.”

“Do you think it is so? That you will always know what to expect from me,” he stopped his fiddling to stare up at her, a queer look in his eye. Molly visibly swallowed as she held herself tighter. She felt the mood turn in an instant; dangerous and intimidating.

“You said you wouldn’t force me,” she reminded him, doing her best to keep her voice steady. The knife he had given her was still somewhere near her.

“Aye, I did,” he nodded, resuming his work, and the tension lifted somewhat, “and if that is where your mind has gone it has done so on its own for I have made no mention of lying with you. I would not speak against such a proposition, but I have not suggested it,” he said, flicking his eyes up to hers once more. She felt her heart stutter.

“Then what was all that about with your, ‘do you think you’ll always know what to expect from me?’” she questioned, altering her voice to imitate his low timber.

Ragnar tossed the stick aside and rubbed his palms together, brushing away the soot and ash. His movements were leisurely, almost deliberately so, which only annoyed Molly further when she was already feeling embarrassed by his presumption that her mind had been in the gutters.

“Well?” she pressed.

Ragnar shrugged, incorporating his hands as well as his face in the movement. “Is it not the truth? Who can claim that they know another so completely that they will always know what the other will do? As, uh, sweet as our meetings have been,” he smiled at her scowl, “they have been brief. Do you really think you know me as well as you think you do?”

She opened her mouth to give a remark about first impressions or something of that nature, when she hesitated. Her own first impressions were swiftly being supplanted by more amenable notions of her . . . not friend . . . companion. Her posture loosened slightly and, guilelessly, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear unaware of the way it drew his eye.

“I feel I must know you enough to trust you with the truth,” she admitted. “You’re the first person to know . . . any of this,” she said, initially searching for a word that could encompass her facts of life. “I don’t understand it, but you’re the first person that I felt I could share it with; no one else would’ve have understood, but you, somehow, seem to.” She quirked her brows, appreciatively curios.

Through the gloom and dull, red glow a gleam of benign teeth glinted as he smiled at her. “I always knew you were something more than you appeared,” he said, sounding vindicated. “I knew there was a reason for my safe-guarding your book – for you to be present in my mind, even when time continued and the possibility of ever finding you diminished; you never left me.”

Molly looked away, running her hands up her arms to hug her shoulders. She did not care to admit that she had experienced the same magnetizing thoughts towards him, though far less complimentary. Though, she supposed it was natural to have looked back on him; their first encounter was one of the most frightening moments of her life.

Cautiously, she turned back to him and was immediately confronted with the urge to yawn as she saw him indulging in his own. He did not miss her joining him.

“The hour is late,” he relented, sounding almost bitter by the fact. “You should get some sleep,” he advised her. Night had been with them for many hours, yet they seemed only now to be aware of the time.

“What about you? You have not slept since waking this morning.”

“I may shut my eyes, but don’t concern yourself. I am used to this more than you. Besides, you will need the rest for tomorrow; I have a number of questions I would ask you.”

“And I will do my best to answer them, but at present, you are the one with an injury and I am not. I’ll watch for now. I do not mind,” she added when she saw him preparing to counter. She reasoned that the likelihood of either of them finding much sleep was slim, but the few hours remaining to the night promised quiet introspection which she yearned for ere the next round of revelations began.

Molly stood, intent on switching places with Ragnar, and showing no signs of hesitance in taking his hands to help him up as she had originally. Again he stumbled, but only slightly, regaining his balance in the next second. She released her grip on him, though when he moved to step past her, she automatically brought a hand up to stop him, just grazing his chest before she dropped it again.

“I – uh, I just want to thank you,” with an effort, she managed to bring her eyes up to his, meeting them and reading in them a softness she had not thought him capable of achieving. She swallowed, suddenly very aware that her last vestiges of fear were leaving her as a new, even more frightening, emotion took its place. He was not touching her, as he promised he would not, but his gaze may as well have been a caress for the warmth she felt under its gaze. She cleared her throat. “You listened to me when I know no one else would have. You can’t know what that means to me,” she confessed. “You returned to me a part of myself I’d forgotten about and I must thank you for that.”

In response, Ragnar leaned down, bringing his face level with hers, their noses inches apart. Molly thought for a moment that he would break his word, yet she found herself too curious to back away.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he posed to her instead.

Molly broke out into a wide grin, her teeth now the ones to gleam as she shook her head in amusement.

“Yes Ragnar Lothbrok, I suppose this means I must forgive you now – so long as you don’t try it again,” she added.

“Mmm,” he playfully groused, “that is a cruel thing to hold me to when you have made yourself even more valuable to me. You had better not smile too much,” he warned, “for I am want to lose all reason and do what I please should I see your smiling face near a boat.”

“You would have to tie me to the masthead for we both know I can swim,” she teased back.

“Don’t give me ideas. Where are you going?” he suddenly called when she abruptly turned to leave their cave.

“I thought I would search for the fairies and see if they know how I could return home.” At his arch brow she chuckled and told him truthfully that she had to relieve herself. When she returned, he was still standing, waiting. Without a word he limped past her and was swallowed by the night, likely to take care of a similar errand.

When he returned, she was already sitting, holding her legs close so that he could get by with as little difficulty as possible. From the darkened corners of the rear of the cave Molly heard his grunts, scuffles, and ultimate sighs as he lowered himself to the ground.

“Are you alright?” she felt compelled to ask.

“Fine,” he said, unconcerned.

A moment passed.

“Do you have songs from your time?” Ragnar’s voice came out from the gloom, contemplative, yet accommodating of a certain mischievous quality.

“I’m not going to sing one,” she replied immediately, not even bothering to look at him. She could, however, see his head perk up out of the corner of her eye.

“I did not ask you to,” a smile in his tone.

“You didn’t have to; I knew what you were leading to.”

“But you do have songs?” he urged, not giving up altogether.

“Of course we have songs,” she smiled at the ridiculousness. “A great many songs that would likely make you wish you were deaf. Music has evolved since the folk tune,” she told him wryly.

“You are not fond of music then?”

“On the contrary, I love music; in fact I used to love watching classic musicals with my mother. My father hated them!” she smiled, remembering. “He would walk in the room, hear Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire for a second, and make an about face. I think the only musical we ever managed to get him to sit down to was My Fair Lady. He knew Rex Harrison was in it and thought it would be a ‘decent’ movie as he termed it. He didn’t even get to ‘Wouldn’t it be Loverly’.”

Lost in her own memories once again, and not to mention the shadows that now enveloped Ragnar, Molly missed his puzzled expression. “You excel at saying much while revealing little.”

Molly laughed softly, understanding his plight. “My apologies, but it is difficult to translate something that hasn’t been invented yet.”

“I imagine it would be,” he considered, then added, “I envy you your knowledge; to know what will come after once all this is gone; once we here have all played our parts and are done.”

A brief silence stretched between them. In the distance, an owl screeched.

“Don’t envy me, Ragnar,” Molly quietly said at last. “You have the comfort of your time, even if you don’t appreciate it, while I often am adrift with only the cold comfort of memory to sooth me. My fate is not something to yearn for.”

Another, shorter, silence ensued, concluded this time by Ragnar.

“I will do my best to heed your warning Molly Hatch,” he said, a curious note to his voice. An unspoken sentiment hung in the air, trailing from Ragnar’s words, and without meaning to Molly waited for its release. It came as sigh of the wind, soft and coaxing. “But it would be easier if you were to stay with me,” he whispered.

Molly looked over her shoulder, seeking his gaze, but not even those pinpricks could be seen now in the gloom. Looking forward, Molly rubbed her arms.

“Sleep Ragnar, I will watch.”

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Stay With Me (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Part 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Requested: Yes! By the lovely @thisisntmyrightera

Word count: 2,182

Prompt(s): #36 and #44

36. "As cute as that was, we have a life or death situation at hand."

44. "Can you hold my hand?"

A/N:  I had to split this into two parts due to the fact that I had too many ideaa for this and it was getting too long for my liking. The second part should be out very soon but I won't make any promises as to when. Also I'm so sorry to the lovely who requested this I promised it'd be out earlier this week but work had been a bitch and has tired me out. But I hope you still enjoy! Feedback and criticism is always welcome! ���

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1934.

   (Y/N) looked around the dance hall from her table, drink in hand as she watched everyone talking, dancing, and just having a great time. She sighed, boredom taking over her features as she rested her chin in her palm. Of all nights for (F/N) to get sick, it had to be the night out they’d been planning for almost a month. ‘Go have fun without me.’ (Y/N) mocked (F/N)’s voice. ‘You won’t even realize I’m not there.’ As she was about to answer her own thoughts she instead heard another voice speak up from beside her. “Is this seat taken?” The deep voice asked, making her head shoot up to look at the source. There stood a clean shaven man in uniform, hat by his side. She had to admit, he was pretty handsome. And she was right. His earth brown eyes captured her almost immediately. They held such a sense of kindness in them along with something else that (Y/N) couldn’t quite describe. 

   She finally realized that she still hadn’t answered him as he still just stood there for a few minutes. “Uh, no. It’s free.” She tried to sound cool but it came out as more of a stuttering mess. The man chuckled and instead of taking the seat to another table like (Y/N) thought he would, he sat down across from her. He held out his hand. “James Barnes. Most people call me Bucky.” (Y/N) smiled and took his hand. “(Y/F/N).” Rather than shaking her hand, the man now known as Bucky brought her hand to his lips, placing a light kiss to the back of it with a charming smile. The gesture alone had made (Y/N) flustered. Bucky obviously noticed but decided to stay quiet about it. “So, if I may ask, what’s a gorgeous gal like you doin’ here all alone tonight on a night like this?” 

   What started with a simple question ended in a night full of talking, laughs, and even a little dancing between the two. He offered to walk her home after realizing that she was growing tired. Once at her doorstep Bucky gave yet another small kiss on the back of (Y/N)’s hand, emitting the same reaction she had at the beginning of their night. They said their farewells and (Y/N) walked inside, having a strong feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time she would see the charming soldier. 

1937

   (Y/N) had been right, that was most definitely not the last time they’d see each other. It started out with small things at first. Bucky would knock on her door hoping to check on her and talk for a few minutes before he had to continue through his day. Soon enough he began helping her around the house on his free days just so he could spend more time with her, but that evolved into him just coming over to her house to do nothing but spend time with her. Not long after that Bucky finally mustered up the courage to ask her on a date. They had dinner at a nice restaurant then went dancing at the same place they met. After a couple more dates Bucky asked her to be his girlfriend. They went on many upon many adventures, both falling in love with each other more everyday. Now, they had collectively decided they wanted to see each other everyday, to wake up next to each other in the mornings and come home to each other every night after a long day. So, with Bucky’s help (and a little bit of Steve’s), (Y/N) packed up her things and moved in with him. 

1938

   (Y/N) sat on the living room floor of their house, photo albums scattered on the coffee table and floor around her. Some were hers, some his, and the rest were both of theirs. (Y/N) had a knack for pictures, she loved having them, and she loved reliving the memories of them when she looked through them. She smiled nostalgically as she carefully flipped the page of the album she was searching through, eyes landing on what had to be her favorite picture. It was of her and Bucky at a fourth of July celebration, holding hands and staring up at the fireworks with such joyed expressions. Steve had stolen the camera and took the picture, knowing (Y/N) wanted to savor the moment. It was right after the picture was taken that her and Bucky had shared their first kiss, and that’s what made it her favorite.

   She stared at the picture for what seemed like hours, and maybe it was, before she heard the front door open and a sigh of relief escaped the love of her life as he closed the door behind him. “Hi darling.” She called, not moving from her comfortable position. She heard his footsteps grow closer to the living room and finally looked up as Bucky stepped into the doorway. A smile etched its way onto his tired face. “Hey doll.” He says, exhaustion evident in his voice. He walked over to her and made himself comfortable behind her, (Y/N) now situated between his legs. (Y/N) leaned back against him and he took the opportunity to lean his head on her shoulder. “How was work?” She asks, looking back at him. He shrugs in response “Same old, same old. Only thing that kept me going was the thought of coming home to you.” He said with a cheesy grin, making (Y/N) roll her eyes. “Oh brother.” She mumbled, facing forward again. Bucky chuckled and kissed her cheek before she spoke again. “You hungry?” She asked, standing up and heading to the kitchen. “I was gonna start dinner earlier but I didn’t want it to be cold when you got home.” hen I didn’t hear him answer she stopped in the doorway and turned to him, only to see him staring at her with a smile full of love. She smiled back in an instant, unable to resist that contagious grin. “Bucky?” She calls softly, making him snap out of the trance he was in. “Yeah?” She crossed her arms and leaned against the door with an amused smirk. “Did you hear anything I just said?” His cheeks turned a dark shade of red and he slowly shook his head, realizing he’d been caught. “Sorry darling.” He mumbles, making her roll her eyes in a playful manner and continue her trek into the kitchen to start cooking.

    After spending the entire time trying to deflect Bucky from tasting everything as she cooked, (Y/N) spent the entirety of dinner talking and laughing with Bucky as if it were their first date again. Bucky held her hand across the table just as he had done at the restaurant from their first date, making (Y/N)’s sense of nostalgia surface again. After dinner Bucky helped her with the dishes then they retired into the living room, cuddled up with each other on the couch after moving the albums back in their boxes. Well, all except one that Bucky had insisted they kept out. He claimed he just wanted to look through it again but (Y/N) was still a bit suspicious. The album was only halfway filled with pictures of the two of them on different dates, at events, etc. They both seemed to have something to say about every picture. (Y/N) had just finished laughing at a memory from the last picture and went to close the book, only to be stopped by Bucky. 

   “What are you doing?” He asked, confusion heavy in his voice, making (Y/N) confused as well. “That was the last picture baby. I haven’t had a chance to put in the newer pictures.” She explains. Bucky shakes his head. “I thought I saw another picture on the next page.” She stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what her boyfriend was up to this time. After a small staring contest (Y/N) sighed in defeat before flipping to the next page. She was surprised to find a picture she’d never seen before. It was of her at (if she remembered correctly) the dance hall they’d met at. She was faced away from him and leaning against the bars of a small ramp that led up to the building in question, staring up at a sky full of stars (though they obviously weren’t as blurry as the picture made them out to be. The longer she stared at it, the more the memory came back to her like a movie playing in her head. 

   It had to have been their fourth or fifth date and she’d gone outside after becoming tired of dancing and being surrounded by people. Bucky had obviously followed her out and just watched as she became entranced by the sky, pointing out that the stars seemed brighter than any other night. Bucky couldn’t see it but agreed with (Y/N) anyways as she was passionate about these kinds of things. She gave him a smile before diverting her attention back to the sky, staring at it with a wonder-filled gleam in her eyes. She looked so perfect in the moment, Bucky knew he had to capture the moment of raw joy and wonder that radiated off of her. He quietly grabbed a camera that he’d made a habit of bringing in his satchel and pointed it at her, attempting to be as quiet as possible as she snapped the picture of her. (Y/N) didn’t seem to notice until she saw him straighten up after putting the camera away. “What was that?” She asks, cocking her head curiously. “Oh nothing.” He said with an innocent smile, making her stare at him suspiciously before shrugging and suggesting they go back inside.

   (Y/N)’s smile was wider than ever as she stared at the photograph before facing Bucky. He had a small smile on his face and carefully got up. “I need to go get something. See if there are any other pictures in the album.” He said, trying (and failing) to act nonchalant as he headed to their shared bedroom. (Y/N) happily complied, taking a trip down memory lane once again as she flipped through the rest of the album that was now full of pictures, some of just her that Bucky had gotten to capture, the rest being the both of them that other people had taken. 

   She had finally reached the end of the book after a bit. Only this page didn’t have a picture of it glued to it, rather, a word very obviously written in Bucky’s handwriting. ‘WILL’ She became confused again and flipped to the next page; that one had another singular word once again written by him. ‘YOU’ 

   She anxiously turned to the next page. ‘MARRY’

   The next page: ‘ME?’

   Her eyes welled with tears and she quickly stood, facing where Bucky had walked off to only to see him down on one knee with a ring in his hand. (Y/N) covered her mouth in an attempt to top herself from crying. Bucky smiled, his eyes welling up with tears as well. “(Y/N)” he started. “I know that I’m not perfect, in fact there have been a lot of times that I’ve messed up in this relationship. I don’t have a lot to offer material-wise, but I vow to honor you, love you, and keep you safe until death do us part if you take me as your husband.” He repeats a speech he’d been rehearsing for almost a year now. “(Y/N), will you do me the honor and make me the happiest man on earth? Will you marry me?” He finishes off, his nervousness fully showing as he awaited her answer. (Y/N) had let her tears run free and a wide smile instantly showed up on her face. She nodded her head vigorously. “Yes! A million times yes!” She cried out, practically tackling him into a hug. Bucky reacted immediately, wrapping his arms around her as they embraced each other tightly. 

   After a few minutes he finally pulled away enough to slip the ring on her finger. She admired the way the ring looked on her finger. It was a simple silver ring with small diamonds embedded into it and a red jewel in the dead center. It was simple, which (Y/N) greatly appreciated. She wasn’t one for showy or flashy things. “This moment needs to be saved.” Bucky spoke up softly, quickly getting up and grabbing his camera from his satchel. He carefully grabbed her hand, holding up the camera and snapping a picture of their held hands before setting it down, making (Y/N) smile brightly. “I think that’s a great end to the album.” Bucky says softly, making her nod in agreement. A great way to end the album and an even better way to end the night. 

[snowbellewells]

Face to Face in the Broad Daylight: Chapter Three

(I meant to get this newest chapter posted yesterday, but didn’t quite make it! At least I am still managing to average a chapter a week, but not always landing on the same day!  I hope you will enjoy it all the same...)

Once again, thanks a million to the brilliant @branlovestowrite​ for the gorgeous story banner that I just love adding to my work.  And thanks to @cssns​ for organizing such a fun event to participate in!!

~ chapter three: the pieces come together

The light of a new morning had just begun to peek over the horizon in Storybrooke, fresh and clear, as it always did, regardless of whatever chaos and strife had come the day before. One could almost believe the morning dew and the sun’s first rays would wash away any damage that lingered on the ground below and illuminate the calm of early dawn. Of course, human beings who lived in the magical mash-up of fairy tale heroes and villains knew better than such a fancifully idyllic notion, but it was a lovely thought, if nothing else.

One such person who knew all too well the caprices and vagaries of fate and how quickly events could turn, altering one’s whole life, stood sentinel on the hilly rise overlooking the sleepy New England town. His large, shaggy lupine body was alert but at peace as he gazed out over the strange little haven he had sworn to himself to protect as both man and beast. It was a soothing, picturesque view, and Graham enjoyed seeing it as the rising sun’s first rays and bursts of color decorated the landscape stretched out before his eyes. One genuinely could almost forget for a moment the place’s convoluted history and fraught present, and think it was just some tiny, charmed hamlet, quiet as it was so early and with so few yet awake and about.

The brisk morning air ruffled his thick russet coat, stirring the deep mahogany fur and pleasantly tickling along his skin. It was an invigorating sensation after his long gallop through the misty, grey pre-dawn, and Graham savored the freedom he felt these precious few hours he stole away each morning to run, wild and unhindered. He’d spent so long not free to do so…

Quickly shaking his rangy form, just as a dog might after an unwanted bath, Graham ordered his thoughts away from the dank, suffocating stone walls of the Evil Queen’s castle fortress long ago in another realm, and also away from the coldly austere walls of a dark, inescapable bedroom in the mayoral mansion. That was over, in the past, and though the fear and impressions still sometimes swept in, closing his throat and tightening his chest, the memories were easier to fight off as a wolf, more quickly tamped down once they surfaced. The trauma would never fully disappear, the canine huff that escaped his muzzle the best way to express that displeasure at present, but it was over. He was no longer caged, and these morning runs helped to remind him of that.

Just before he turned to head back down the ridge, home to his cottage and the amazing woman sleeping there who also helped him heal in more ways than he could say, movement at the lake shore caught his preternaturally sharp eye. He froze, motionless, zeroing in on the flicker of interest which had drawn his attention.

There was someone walking down there, it took him only seconds to deduce, but why? There was nothing to do this early in the morning to interest the average person. Not that he wanted to be overly suspicious; it was a public space and anyone was more than welcome to walk along by the water. However, most folks who made use of the lake were in boats or fishing, enjoying the water and not self-conscious of avoiding notice. That was not the case of the form he had just noticed, a niggling unease disturbing his mind as the unknown stranger slunk silently along the lake’s edge, nearing the trees at the far side of the water and a large rock standing nearby, glancing over one shoulder often and obviously hoping to remain unseen.

His large ears flattened along his head, crouching on all fours, belly to the rocky ground, sensing he didn’t want the secretive being cloaked in deep blue to look up and catch him observing either. He couldn’t look away though; not knowing who this person was - a cloaked woman, he became more certain as he continued to watch - what she wanted, and most importantly, if she had something to do with the attack on Granny. A low, warning growl rumbled in his throat, almost without his conscious realization.

Frighteningly, however, the figure below snapped to attention as if the canine sound of displeasure had been heard; though that should have been impossible. Graham knew he couldn’t be seen, but felt himself holding his breath as the strange woman was clearly studying her surroundings. Then, to his utter disbelief, even with all the fairy tale characters come to life, the curses and magic he had seen in the last year, his eyes widened further still at the vision before him.  As if having satisfied herself that she was indeed alone, the woman held her outstretched arm over the placid lake before her. The surface began to bubble and stir, and slowly some rather large, darkly gleaming cylindrical shape surfaced from within the depths, rising into the air and floating to the hand which had emerged from the voluminous sleeves of the stranger’s cloak and waited open to  catch it. Graham’s astonishment was only heightened as the unknown woman tucked the object within the folds of her clothing, turned toward the surrounding forest, and seemed to vanish into the trees.

~~***~~***~~

Having the early shift at the station had never been Emma Swan’s favorite thing; mornings in Storybrooke were often either dully quiet or filled with the sort of petty, piddling complaints that she had little patience for. When she pulled first shift alone early on in her career as deputy, if had often been quite the battle not to drift off to sleep again at her desk unless she’d had a good three cups of coffee. However, now that she often worked mornings with Killian, Emma had come to enjoy the time - even if they were wordlessly filling out paperwork, it was peaceful and pleasant simply being in his company.

Bringing the Storybrooke Police Department mug she was using up to her lips, Emma tried to surreptitiously study the man in question as he dusted and swept out the two rarely used (other than by Leroy as an occasional drunk tank) holding cells, muttering to himself about ‘no substandard conditions on his watch’ and ‘slovenly drunken bloody dwarves’. He shook his head with clear disbelieving irritation - as if his obsessively clean and tidy habits were the norm rather than a rarity - carrying on in a way that made her quite sure he thought no one was paying any attention. She was, on the contrary, quite riveted in fact as she watched her lover work, his movements graceful even with actions as mundane as replacing clean sheets and pillowcases - which he had washed, she was sure - and making up the two cots with military neatness and precision. He leaned over a bit further to tuck the bedding in around a far mattress corner, and she flushed to realize she had actually traced her tongue across her lower lip hungrily at the sight of his pirate booty on display before her, encased in tight denim.

Standing, she made certain to place the mug quietly down on her desk surface and stealthily crossed the room to the cell he still occupied, fiddling with the window latch or some other detail not to his liking. With a naughty smirk already curving her lips, and pleased with herself for getting the drop on a pirate (and wolf), Emma swung the door shut on Killian while his back was still turned, letting the clang of it latching alert him to the situation for her. Her hands still rested on the bars, and she waited curiously to see how he would respond.

Killian startled her though by crossing the floor of the cell in a flash - almost the blink of an eye - so quickly that it made her breath catch raggedly in her throat. She jerked back reflexively, but was stopped by his hand and hook, resting on and pressing down atop her hands on the bars. He leaned in close to leer at her dangerously, a low-burning fire in his blue eyes before murmuring in a deep lilt, “Careful there, Lass. You’ll catch a bigger predator than you’re prepared to handle.”

Emma regained her composure quickly, not to be outdone. “We’ll see about that, Captain,” she practically taunted audaciously. “You’re the one in a cage.”

He merely waggled an eyebrow at her statement, seeing the truth in it though he didn’t seem at all troubled by the realization. Her pirate merely nodded in feigned thoughtfulness as he took a careful step back. Emma’s body screamed out a silent protest at the loss of his proximity, even as she struggled to seem as cool and unfazed as he. “If you say so, Emma,” Killian husked, his voice rasping enough to allow Emma momentary awareness that he wasn’t as unaffected as he seemed, gloating not withstanding, but then his low, rumbling voice added salaciously, “However, I doubt that I will remain entrapped for long. You see, Love, your body is giving you away…” his eyes swept up her form all the way from her booted toes to her messy ponytail in a way that heated her skin palpably. He brought his tongue out to swipe across his lower lip in a positively obscene gesture that made her tremble even more than he had already seen, at the very reminder of just what that tongue could do - and how it felt- running along her flesh. “You want me badly enough that it’s only a matter of time before you open this door to get in here with me.”

She wanted to kick herself, cursing silently in her head all the while, that her voice did indeed quaver in reaction even as she tossed back sassily, “You’re awfully sure of yourself there, sailor. Think you’ll be quite as cocky after spending the night on one of those cots?”

To her immense satisfaction, Killian’s mouth did drop open for a moment before he regained his composure, tilted his head to the side slightly, and this time, added in the ridiculous puppy eyes along with his comeback. “Now Lass, we both know you aren’t going to leave me here, are you? After all, you would be depriving yourself as much as me.”

“Hmmm…” Emma stalled, softly humming under her breath, turning back toward her desk as she did so, and making a show of taking her time to rifle through several items before finding the one she sought and turning back around to face him. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she finally argued slyly, holding up the handcuffs she had located and letting them dangle from her finger in plain sight. “I’m beginning to think some restraint might do that ego of yours good.”

The rough vibrations of his deep chuckle felt as though they traveled across the floor and up into the souls of her feet they affected Emma so strongly. A pulse of want strummed directly through her core, and she knew the flush of it must be echoed on her face as Killian nodded in acknowledgement of it and a devious twinkle lit his eyes. “Why, Swan,” he replied innocently, “you’ve never complained of my cockiness before.”

For some reason that ridiculously bad wordplay was what finally snapped the cord holding her back. Twisting her hand sideways with the flick of a wrist, Emma unlocked the cell door as easily as she had closed it, and sent it swinging back open hard enough to make it bang against the bars loudly. In the next instant, she was through the door and on her handsome wolf man, clutching the collar of his jacket in her fists desperately and leaning in to kiss him so fervently she nearly knocked their noses together.

She felt as much as heard the huff of air that escaped him, caught off guard by the strength of her onslaught, and though his lips, teeth and tongue quickly caught up to the fierce vigor of her kiss, he did stumble back a few steps, sending them both sprawling onto the cot he had just made with a squeal of rusty springs.

Not that such a tumble stopped them for long. Emma ran a hand back through Killian’s dark hair greedily, unable to help but touch it, scrubbing her nails along his scalp back to the nape of his neck, where she pulled at the strands to tilt his head at the angle she desired, eliciting a heedless growl from his throat. While her forcefulness had him distracted, her other hand trailed down his arm to his wrist. With a chortle of victorious glee, she quickly pulled back just enough in his lap to snap the cuff closed around his wrist and then the metal frame of the cot.

Killian, who hadn’t been idle, the curve of his hook having trailed up her side beneath her shirt with shivering, deliciously cool precision and had been tracing along the underside of her breast, froze at the metallic click, arrested in mid-caress and then pressing his scruffy face to her shoulder, where he bit down lightly and then murmured, “Oh, you’re going to pay for that…”

She quirked a brow in question at his futile threat, knowing both that she had the upper hand, and that he wasn’t all that upset with the turn of events. “Am ?” she countered, looking at him with as devious an expression as she could muster before leaning forward to capture his lips again, whispering a mumbled, “We’ll see about that,” against his mouth.

His hooked arm had just urged her down further over him, tangling them together and pressing them even closer, despite the metallic jangle of the cuff on his other arm as he forgot its trapped position and began to bring it up to encircle her as well. They were well on their way to fully undressing one another - both jackets shed, the rest of Killian’s shirt unbuttoned so her greedy hands could run through the coarse hair on his chest and stomach, and Emma’s blouse nearly slashed down the front by a desperately tormented hook - when the sound of the station’s main entrance flying out to smack against the wall and the pounding of hurried footsteps sent them jerking upright, wide-eyed and panting, and caught red-handed. Call it the curse of small town life, but everyone around them seemed determined to help block their amorous interludes. Emma tried to run a shaky hand over her badly mussed hair before Graham rounded the corner into view.

He spared them only a quick, exasperated look before shaking his head and lamenting, “The cells, guys? Again? Really?” much to Emma’s sheepish apologies and Killian’s flushed embarrassment, before moving on, knowing that what he had seen was more important than lecturing his deputies on workplace protocol and boundaries. “I saw someone out by the lake shore early this morning - definitely secretive and certainly magical…” He began to fill in the details and it didn’t take long for them to agree that he might well have found the person who had accosted Granny Lucas - and could be colluding with Gold. The thing they needed to know now was why? And how to stop her before anyone else was harmed.

~~***~~***~~

While Graham was getting the Savior and his fellow wolf up to speed on all that he had heard and seen that morning, the object of his discourse was gliding silently, as surreptitious and unnoticed as a shadow down a nearby alley in the town, coming to a stop by the back entrance of Gold’s pawn shop. Not bothering to knock on the door or call out to announce herself, instead the still-shrouded figure, none other than Morgana, the healer and sorceress from Camelot of old, simply waved her hand before the door latch and with a deft twist of her wrist, unlocked the door and caused it to swing open without ever physically touching it.

Without even a moment’s hesitation, Morgana slipped through the narrow opening, bringing the door shut behind her, and made her way as assured and confident as if she had visited or seen it all there before, to the heavy drapery hanging between the back and front parts of the shop. As she brushed through the divider, Rumplestiltskin stood at the wide glass counter to her left,  as though he had simply been awaiting her appearance, utterly calm and unruffled.

“There you are, Madame le Fey,” he spoke quietly, turning to meet her with a deferential nod and the correct reverence in his voice, but a glimmer in his eye that showed he was still not as obsequious as it might seem. “I had hoped you weren’t planning to disappoint me.”

The hood was lifted from her head by pale, graceful hands, revealing long, shining hair so dark it nearly gleamed purple, black as a raven’s wing. The ancient sorceress’ eyes crackled with a malevolent fire the equal of Gold’s as she scoffed angrily at his words. “Hardly” she dismissed with a harsh retort. But then, as if knowing the wily pawnbroker, villain in his own right, well enough to be aware he would not simply take her word as sufficient answer, Morgana reached within the draped folds of her cloak, her hand emerging with the same metallically sparkling cylinder Graham had seen her raise from the lake.

All nonchalance shattered, the Dark One’s complete focus and attention was centered on the offering she held out before him, knowing what it was she possessed and long past any semblance of pretending she would not get her due for an item he wanted so desperately. “The Sorceror’s Hat,” Rumplestiltskin hissed on an awed breath, beginning to reach out toward the powerful talisman almost within his grasp, before pulling himself back and upright - under control - again.

“Indeed, it is, Dark One,” Morgana nearly purred in her rich, hypnotic voice, “as promised.”

He did give her a genuine nod and slight bow of impressed acknowledgement then. How she had acquired the hat mattered not to him; in fact, whether it had been her or anyone else bringing it to him would have made little difference. All that was of consequence was possessing the hat at last. And cleaving himself from control of the dagger - without losing his power. Then the Savior’s pitiful orders to protect those who had taken what belonged to him would be useless against him, and he could take back mastery of their shoddy little town, and on to the whole realm without magic to challenge him - as it should have always been. “You have done well, Dearie,” he complimented in a voice as pleasant and grateful as he could muster. Again, almost as if without his own conscious thought, Rumplestiltskin found his hands reaching out for the cylinder containing his prize.

Morgana, however, was not one to be trifled with, carefully gathering her find back against her body. “Ah ah ah, Dark One,” she warned in a quietly commanding sing-song, not so very unlike his own. “Not so fast. First, I require assurance that you will hold up your part of our deal.”

Exasperated, Rumplestiltskin’s response was impatient, hurried, not particularly inspiring confidence. “Yes, yes, of course.”

Tilting her head to study the imp facing her briefly, as if unable to resist prodding him just a bit, much like one had to imagine he had done to her at some point in the past, the fey woman added, “After all...was it not you who taught me, all those ages ago, that magic always comes with a price?”

Tagging: @cssns​ @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @spartanguard​ @laschatzi​ @searchingwardrobes​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @linda8084​ @winterbaby89​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @hollyethecurious​ @gingerchangeling​ @blackwidownat2814​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @therooksshiningknight​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @branlovestowrite​ @scientificapricot​ @let-it-raines​

[barnesnmrnoble]

The Fallen Leaf

(GIF not mine. Credit to owners.)

Main Masterlist - Steve Rogers Masterlist

There is a tree in New York, standing y’all in the depths of the greenery of Central Park. It’s a tree that represents the life and death of the city. With each new life brought into the world, a new leaf blossoms from a it’s branches but with each death that befalls the city a leaf floats and falls to the ground signifying its end.

Every Saturday, Steve watches her smile grow somber, her eyes become glassy with tears unshed and watches as her feet carry her away to the city. He never knows where she goes and never dares ask in fear of watching her already dampened smile fade to nothing. Until one day he can’t handle it any longer and follows her.

Word Count: 3168

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death and blood, car accident

A/n:  It’s been a minute since I’ve been able to post, school and finals have been kicking my ass so hopefully this is the start of me coming back. There should also be a new chapter of Lost in Time in the coming days! I hope you all enjoy! If you do, leave a like and a reblog or comment! I’d love to hear what you think and honestly I’m human and I need the validation. (This was based of a @writing-prompt-s post )

Read on AO3!

There is a tree, standing tall in the depths of the thick greenery of Central Park. It’s larger than life, standing high above the rest of the forest that surrounds it, from the ground looking up, it almost competes with the skyscrapers that line the blue sky. Though it’s not blue today, it’s never blue when she leaves her home for this. It’s dark and dreary, grey clouds rolling in over the city. It’s a reflection of how she feels on these days.

She remembers when she first learned of the tree, her mother sitting her down on a bench nearby it, overlooking the lake in front of her. Her mother held her newborn baby in her arms, gently calming him when he stirred in his sleep. He was only days old, but already had the biggest personality, just like her own. The wind blew around them, almost drowning out her voice when she quietly asked her mother to hold her new baby brother. Her mother had smiled at her, handing her the small infant, keeping her hands underneath her daughter’s. Her mother leaned down to push a wind blown stray hair away from her eyes, smiling as she retold the story her own parents had taught her at this age. She recited it as if it was a fairy tale straight from a story book she had on the bookshelf at home.

It had been centuries ago, when the city had started to come to life. Statues and monuments locals saw each day as they walked into their jobs, had been created then. Stories that would be known until the end of time, started here. A man, whose name she couldn’t remember no matter how many times she’d  told and been told the story --which admittedly wasn’t very often-- had come to the green space in the city. He found solace in the quietness of the forest, found peace from the world. He’d found a place to rest, a clearing in the trees, and in the middle sat a small sapling, no taller than his hip. It’s color was more potent than what he’d seen, greens of every shade covered the few leaves it had. The man pulled a small brown cloth pouch from his clothing, dipping his fingers into the soft mineral powder inside. The powder gleamed against the sun’s bright rays of light, as the man brought it from the pouch and sprinkled it around the tree.

Her mother continues to stroke her hair and finishes her telling of the story with a flourish, “And the rest, as they say, is history.” She smiles up to her mother, fascination running around her brain like a herd of wild horses. But, she can’t help but pause for a moment, her mother had told her an amazing fairy tale of the tree that grew taller than the rest in the middle of the city, but never once did she mention its significance. When she asked to know more about the tree, to know why leaves of varying shades and colors grew from its branches her mother only grabbed her small hand in hers and lead her to the edge of the clearing. “You’ll understand soon, but you must see it.”

It had truly been magical, that day, hearing the stories told from generation to generation had set her mind aflurry, her imagination running wild. Her mother had taken her to see the tree up close, leaves of every color and shade scattered across branches that never seemed to end. If she’d been counting the branches, she was sure to end in the thousands before giving up.  Some leaves had fallen from their branches, dispersed on the ground beneath it, stretching out several feet from its base and covering large roots that measured larger than herself. Her small feet carried her to the edge of where the leaves lay peacefully on the ground, she didn’t dare go further, wouldn’t have even if she hadn’t had her mother still holding her hand. It felt wrong, a deep seeding feeling of disrespect if she crossed the imaginary line in front of her.

____________ . _______________ . ____________ . ___________

She wrapped her scarf around her neck, the soft navy blue one Steve had gifted her a while back, and stroked her fingers over the fabric savoring the comfort it brought her.  It was silly, really. To think a scarf of soft fabric could bring her so much comfort on a day that was so hard, but it was what it represented to her that brought her the feeling of a warm embrace, when the cold around her chilled her to her bones. It was the representation of family, of a shoulder to lean on, open arms to fall into when the world pushed too hard, it was the representation of all that she had lost and then gained once again. She never knew a scarf could represent so much to her.

The clouds that rolled in over the sky were dark and dreary, a nipping wind biting at those who dared walk out in the world. The wind slammed against her cheeks the moment she opened the door and slid into the hustle and bustle of the city. It felt like small pricks against her skin, the ever changing pattern of the wind switching the pins from on side of her face to the other every few steps she took. She blended into the crowd around her, just another face, another set of feet moving from point a to point b, at least until she slid from the bulk of the crowd taking a side street into the park. She walked along the path she always took, a back way to avoid the people she just didn’t have the energy to be around and to bask in the nature around her.

The trees were still bare, a few leaves poking through the cold to find the sun. The winter had started to subside and make way for the spring, letting leaves grow in bunches, grass regain its beautiful green hue, and flower bloom underneath her feet. She loved it here. Her mind wandered with her feet, carrying her to the place she always found herself on these days, the tree of the city.

No matter the time of year, winter, spring, summer, or fall, the leaves of the tree always grew against their branches. It was never failing in its beauty or its life. Before she even had realized she’d taken the backpath, her feet slowed to a stop against the outermost edge of the leaves, the imaginary line forced a stop to her feet. She reached into her coat and pulled out the small picture frame she usually kept hidden away from prying eyes. The dark and worn frame, whose paint had been chipped and rubbed away by her loss and anxiously twiddling thumbs, slid to the end of her grasp and escaped the downpour of her tears. Her delicate fingers traced over the outline of the purple colored leaf and over the letters engraved forever on its skin.

Her brother’s name stared at her through the glass frame under her thumbs, twisting the grip on her heart, one that refused to let up, and hadn’t for two years. It had been a dreary Saturday morning, much like today or really everyday she walked the lone path to the tree. She’d still been living at her old apartment down in Brooklyn, her life as an avenger hadn’t started yet, she was still months out from that part of her life. Her brother had come home from University for the weekend and managed to squeeze in just enough time to have lunch with her before he had to get back, it’d been the first time she’d seen him in months.

But he never showed up.

It was a call she never wished to get, a feeling she would never wish on the worst of people. It had quite literally felt like her heart had been torn from her chest and buried six feet under for no hope of ever finding it again. “Your brother’s been in an accident.” She could hear the helplessness and fear that laced her mother’s voice, she could hear her own sobs permeating the soft air of the diner she’d been waiting for him at. She didn’t care for the odd looks she received for her wailing sobs, or the angry stares she got for “ruining” someone’s dinner. She didn’t care.

Her brothers car was a mangled mess when she passed the awful wreck. She wished she could’ve avoided it, put off seeing horrors no one should ever face, but it was the only way to the hospital. Her stomach churned and threaten to let the bile she’d been struggling to hold down up as she passed the car. She could see blood streaking the inside of the car, a gaping hole where they’d had to cut him from the vehicle.

They waited for hours in the hospital, sitting in awful and uncomfortable chairs that made it impossible it find a position to sit in that didn’t make her back ache. Her hand never left her mother’s, both holding onto each other as if it was the only thing holding them together. Though in reality, it was the only thing holding them together.

The world became darker with each passing moment of agonizing waiting, wondering, hoping, and praying. It became a macabre world of black and white, a world of muted feelings to the point of total numbness. The blank wall in front of her eyes became a seemingly interesting story being told, her eyes never wavering from the spot they’d fixated on hours upon hours ago. Distantly she heard talking, people milling about in the hospital, each one feeling much different from the last. Nurses and doctors held somber looks, though some held smiles as they came out a child’s room, or a room from which someone was still living, still breathing, where they were recovering.

One somber face stood out from the rest. It overrode every feeling of numbness in her until she felt everything all at once, letting it quite literally knock her out of her chair. His eyes were tearful, his gait slow and heartbroken. His shoes were covered in blood, his scrubs he wore didn’t look much better, streaks of red striping what once was a sky blue top into a painful red nightmare. She didn’t need to be told, she didn’t, nor did she want to hear the words spoken out into the world, because if they were that would prove their truthfulness and that wasn’t a truth she was or ever would be willing to come to terms with.

Her baby brother was gone.

The pain settled deep within her heart, never once letting her forget that day, or the feelings of guilt and sadness that she felt everyday when she opened her eyes in the morning. She’d thrown herself into work, isolated herself from friends and family, barely ate and when she did it was nothing more than a birds meal. She even begun a new job, on top of her regular job. She had to, sitting at home and wallowing in the pain was doing nothing for her so she did what she knew and kept herself distracted. Eventually leading her into the arms of the avengers, where her anger and guilt could be used as the driving motion to do some good in the world, just what her brother would’ve wanted for her.

It had taken her several months before she could even bring herself to face the tree that had once held her brothers leaf high on the branches that reached upwards until they touched the blue of the sky. Little by little she brought up her courage and pushed away the pain until the one day she stepped past the imaginary line her feet always stopped her at. She’d sifted through so many leaves, sat for hours and hours until she found the jagged edges of the purple leaf, his favorite color, that held his name. And so, every Saturday she slid out of compound at the early hours of the morning to commemorate him and his life. She went early enough to beat the crowds that lingered around the tree, mostly of those who tried to find their own leaves, they were too cheerful for her. And early enough to avoid or arouse suspicion from that of her teammates. But in a building full of trained soldiers, assassins and geniuses, one was bound to see her slip from the gates with fresh tears already making their way down her cheeks.

Steve had seen her a few months ago, slip from her room and quietly out of the compound, he’d made to ask her where she was headed but as soon as he saw her somber smile and glassy eyes, he just opened his arms for her to seek comfort in. And she did, she never told him anything more than a cop-out answer of “it’s a long story.” or “I’m okay, just a hard week.” but he was never one to push it, it wasn’t his place and he wouldn’t be able to handle it if he was the reason her smiled dampened even more than it already was.

It had been months of her tearful gaze and isolation and Steve couldn’t handle the continuing struggle he could see for her to keep her smile from fading until there was nothing and he snapped. She always left, every Saturday in the early mornings, so Steve was awake just before he knew she’d slide from her room and away for the day and followed her.

He followed her down the backpath she took through the deepest parts of the park, her feet slow moving across the dirt packed path. He listened with a heart heavier than lead as she cried with each step she took, she radiated the pain she felt outwards pushing an invisible force down onto Steve that made each step harder than the last as they rounded the last corner to the open clearing that perfectly framed the tree. He’d seen the tree before, mourned over the leafs on the ground etched with names of his past life, but it had taken him time to even make it as far as the clearing. His fear of seeing those names and coming to terms with the lives and deaths of the people he loved most winning out over his need to have the closure.

He remembered seeing the tree back in the 40s, he’d drawn it countless times in his sketchbook. Though never once did he think his drawings did it’s unmatched beauty any sort of justice. To him, he would never be able to capture the emotions, the happy, the sad, the rejoicing, and the mourning done at the base of this tree, no color palette could ever capture the unique colors that scattered the mass amounts of branches that would’ve taken years to finish drawing. Still he tried, spending many a days out sketching in the warmth of the sun and the coolness he felt when it started to fall beneath the horizon. When his mother had passed, Steve had spent less time in the clearing, pushing it away because it held the memories of his mother, the one woman in his life that meant more to him than anything, because nothing else could compare to her sweet, compassionate personality.

Her feet paused at the outermost edge of the clearing, never crossing the line from the dirt path to the soft green grass the spread from the base of the tree. He watched her grab something from the inside of her coat, her weight shifting from foot to foot and her shoulders slumping even more than they already had. Steve couldn’t handle it, he loved seeing her infectious smile and had since she’d started with the avengers. She’d been a breath of fresh air, she was amazingly capable at what she did-- he couldn’t even counted on his fingers how many times she’d saved his ass-- but even more than that she had helped everyone come down from their minds. Without her, the avengers would probably never have eaten or learned how to cook for themselves, they wouldn’t have days where they could just be people and play games and be the family they really were.

“You know, I came here after I lost Bucky. I stood right where you are, to afraid to cross into the clearing, because if I did and I found the leaf with his name on it, it would mean he was really gone, confirming just what I’d seen on the train. I never moved past that line.” His voice came from behind her, sending her jumping away from where she stood. His hand reached out and grabbed her hand, he laced their fingers together and pulled her into his arms. He didn’t need words, he needed her to know no matter what was going on, she had someone to come to. It was a small gesture but it was just what she needed.

His heart broke with her sobs, his arms gripping onto her waist and holding her steady and she collapsed in his arms and took them both to the ground. They sat in the dirt for hours, some just watching those who showed up to admire the tree, to those who mourned along with them, some just relishing in the comfort of having each other. She told stories of her brother, of the silly games they played, of the crazy pranks they pulled on each other, of the day and the accident that took his life. Each story yanked on Steve’s heart strings until they were stretched farther than a rubber band, he was so close to breaking and letting his tears spill over, to letting his resolve snap into pieces like a rubber band stretched to far.

Part of him did snap, he let silent tears fall, trying and failing to quell his shudders of the sobs he quieted. Her heart so hurt, so closed off from a tragedy he’d never wish on the worst of his enemies. To lose someone so close to you, to not even be able to say goodbye, to see them happy and alive one last time, Steve couldn’t imagine it. She was strong, stronger than anyone knew because despite the horrors she’d lived through, the tragedy she faced, she carried on, pushed past the pain to do her job and do to it well. But more than that she never forgot to take the time to mourn her loss, to remember the life of her brother and to remember what brought her to where she was.

He bent his head down pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead and once again hugging her tight to his body.

“Let’s go home.”

[baneismydragon]

How about #2 or #19 (whichever inspires you more) for marichat. I miss your particular flare with those two.

This was SUPPOSED to be a short drabble… but its ok because @ktwesterna has been one of the most supportive and wonderful followers I have been blessed to have! Enjoy your Marichat #19 clocking in at just under 2k words lol.

Marinette had expected many things when she had come up with what was now jokingly referred to as the ‘best friend bonding compromise’. With her identity revealed she knew it would change the dynamic between herself and her partner. Chat had never been all that invested in the secrecy between the two of them, and it was honestly a miracle she had managed to stop him before he had detransformed himself after his first visit after the akuma that exposed her own secret. She had assumed that he would push for an end to his own hidden identity, (he had), that he would want for them to spend more time together outside of protecting Paris, (he did), and that he wouldn’t take no for an answer if she didn’t come up with some way to pacify his desire for them to become closer in light of this revelation. Which is why she was now constantly on the receiving end visits from her black clad companion.

She didn’t mind. In fact, she actually rather enjoyed getting visits from her partner. He was good company, enjoyed a lot of the same things that she did, was a good sport about losing at video games, and was surprisingly useful as a study partner. And again she had expected it.

What she hadn’t expected was how much less flamboyant he was in this new, more domestic setting. He was more often than not perfectly content to curl up and nap or read a book whenever she wanted to work on a project. He was unexpectedly thoughtful and sensitive. Not that she had ever thought that Chat Noir wasn’t kind, but she would not have expected him to be the sort to consistently tidy up after himself much less her as well. In the past month she was fairly certain that he had actually made up her bed more often than she had.

But more than anything, she hadn’t expected him to be quiet.

“What are you reading?”

Marinette shrieked, desperately reaching to close the tab on her computer but instead managing to tilt her chair too far forward and crashing to the ground. 

She had all but forgotten that he was in the room. Last she had looked he had been crashed out on her bed, not hovering over her shoulder as he was now. 

“Nothing!” she cried from the floor. “It’s nothing, you should-”

“Is this fanfiction?” Chat said delightedly, stepping in front of her so that he could read the screen as she struggled to get to her feet.

“I just clicked on it because I was curious to see what it was!”

“So you opened chapter 17?” he grinned, holding her back with one arm as he leaned in and began reading.

This was bad. This was so bad.

She tried to reach past him and grab the mouse but she knew it was too late. She could feel his body tense as he realized what was on the screen, his tail and ears twitching as his mouth fell open in shock.

“My Lady…”

“It’s not what you think!”

“Is this…”

“I was reading it for academic purposes!”

“Is this LADRIEN fanfiction?”

Of course he knew what it was. He was the one who had introduced her to “Ladybug” fanfiction in the first place. He thought the entire thing was hilarious. More than once he had regaled her with admittedly hilarious retellings of some of the more wild interpretations of his character that he had come across while browsing the fan section of the Ladyblog.

Marinette felt her face flush and wondered if she should just crawl into her bed and die.

“It is,” he breathed, scrolling down the page and skimming through the chapter. His eyes got wider as he got further along, his cheeks turning a tell tale pink at whatever he had found later in the chapter.

Damn, she had been looking forward to this update too. If Chat’s expression was anything to go by it was just as heated as the author had promised in last weeks notes.

He turned to look at her, his brow narrowing in confusion.

“Wait, you hate Ladybug fanfiction. You’ve told me yourself that you think Ladynoir fics are, and I quote, ‘a giant waste of time with no truth or value whatsoever.’

“Can we just forget this ever happened?” she moaned.

“So why would you be reading this, unless…”

“Oh my God…”

“Chat-”

“Oh my GOD!”

“I will pay you to forget you saw this!”

“You like Adrien!” Chat cried, bursting into gales of laughter as he whirled around to face her. “YOU like Adrien.”

“Please, Chat, you can’t tell him about this. I would die, I would LITERALLY die if he ever found out. He can not find out, you have to promise me.”

“Yeah, I can’t promise that.”

“Chat come on!” she pleaded, grabbing his hands in hers and trying to give him her most convincing pout.

“Why is this the first time I am hearing about this?” he asked, his expression still lit with a giddy exuberance that terrified her.

“Because I didn’t feel like my crush was a worthwhile topic of conversation,” she said, glaring, “or maybe I didn’t want to rub it in your face that I liked someone else, which you already knew.”

“No I know that, I mean-” he cut himself off, his face scrunching in concentration as his thoughts turned inwards. His fingers twined with hers where she was still holding onto him, and she held her breath as she waiting to see what he was going to say. She could feel a sense of apprehension. Like there was still another shoe about to drop.

“You haven’t said anything,” he said quietly, his head cocking to the side.

She flushed, dropping his gaze at his accurate assessment.

“You’ve never said anything to… to Adrien, about how you feel.”

“I’ve tried a couple of times, but it never goes well,” she admitted.

“But you do like… like Adrien?” he asked, his voice still soft and surprisingly tender.

“Yeah,” she admitted, her eyes falling closed in both embarrassment and relief now that her secret was out. “Yeah I do.”

She felt Chat drop her hands, pulling her into a hug. His warm, quiet chuckle reverberating through her soothingly.

“What a crazy criss crossed life you live, My Lady.”

She snuggled into his embrace, grateful for the unending love and support her partner always offered her. He really was an amazing…

Suddenly she felt the loss of his presence around her.

“You should tell him! Right now!”

“Oh my God! Chat what are you doing?” Marinette cried as she heard the frantic typing of her keyboard.

“I’m messaging Adrien.”

“NO!”

She hurled herself forward, desperately trying to grab at the computer, but her arms were no match for his as the insane cat purposefully blocked her path.

“Don’t worry, it’s perfect.” He ignore her frantic cries even as she jumped up onto his back, leg wrapped around his waist as she desperately tried to pull him away from his new self imposed mission. “I just need to send this message and then everything will- GAAHHHH!”

He shrieked in startled pain as Marinette wove her fingers into his hair and yanked.

“What the hell!”

“You can’t send that message! What did you even write?”

“Relax its not a love poem or anything, it just says: hey Adrien, do you want to go to the movies with me this weekend?”

“That’s… actually not terrible.”

“Good. So now I can just-”

“You still can’t send it!”

“Why not!”

He twisted in circles trying to dislodge Marinette as she alternated between trying to grab his hands and trying to reach over and attack the computer itself.

Unfortunately for her, she was no match for his suit enhanced strength, and after a few more minutes of frantic twisting and clawing on both their ends, he rolled his eyes, reach back and hauled her over his shoulder, plopping her down onto the desk with an inelegant thud.

“Hold still,” he grunted, capturing both her hands and leveling her with his most intimidating stare. “This is in everyone’s best interest.”

“I won’t let you,” she growled, shifting in front of the computer screen and wriggling enough so that he couldn’t release her hands.

“Stop being stubborn!”

“Says the insane cat trying to play cupid!”

“Don’t you want to date Adrien?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“He could say no!”

“He’s going to say yes.”

“I’m not ready! He’ll think I am insane.”

“I think its a safe bet to say he already does. He’ll still say yes and love you anyways.”

“I’ll never give you cookies again.”

“That is a price I am willing to pay,” he said, leaning forward and bopping their noses together. Her face scrunched in irritation

“Chaaaaaaat,” she whined, without any real malice.

“Sorry princess, this train has left the station and there is nothing you can do to stop me from sending this message.”

For one second Chat’s face filled with terror as he saw her eyes light up with a familiar gleam of inspiration, and then his mind went completely blank as she lunged forwards and planted her lips across his.

His whole body went rigid, his eyes wide as every nerve tingled at the feel of her so close.

Marinette grinned into the kiss as she felt him melt against her, his fingers losing their grip around her wrist as his eyes drifted shut and he let out an honest to god purr against her lips.

But just as she was about pull away and dive onto the computer to achieve victory, his hands reached up to cup her face and his head tilted slightly to deepen the kiss and all thoughts of moving fled.

Her brain dissolved into a pleasant haze as she savored the feeling of him kissing her, worshiping her. Time seemed to stop as their lips pressed and nibbled, exploring each other with delicious intimacy. By the time they finally broke apart, gasping for air, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you how they had even gotten into this position in the first place.

“Wow,” he breathed, nuzzling his nose against her neck, the hot whisper of his breath sending shivers up her spine. “You are absolutely amazing, My Lady.”

He kissed her softly on the hollow of her throat and instinctively she tilted her head to grant him better access.

“But there is one small flaw in this strategy of yours,” he said, even as his lips ghosted across the sensitive skin.

“What’s that?”

She heard a soft click.

Her eyes went wide.

“Now I HAVE to send that message.”

“Chat!”

Hope you liked the story!Please consider donating to my ko-fi! 

[royal-writer]

Kids in a Candy Store

Things I enjoy: 1) fresh new relationships that make people act like stupid horny teenagers and 2) Abe's inability to read suggestive and flirty behavior even when it's slapped in front of his face.

There was too much to love about the way she laughed. Giddy, breathless, a glass filled to the top with a fountain of champagne bubbles soft and overflowing with a sparkling light. He loved the way she loved in equal measure to her soft lips, and the smile that she wore on them. It was the best part part of her look. You couldn’t pay for a piece of jewelry or piece of apparel with even an ounce as much shine value. She was priceless.

Squinting her eyes as she giggled, Essätha turned her face to offer her cheek to the eager lips kissing her face. They obliged her a moment’s breath. Grinning against her face, trailing against the apple of her cheek and down to her jawline. His curled whiskers still teasing her, rubbing against her neck and burning a warm friction against her face.

“Stop that, you know that tickles!”

“But I adore your laughter,” he counters, nuzzling his face against her bare shoulder. He continues the line of kisses, smothering himself there so his beard rasps against her skin.

“And I want to be able to breathe, m’lord,” she stressed, snickering.

Amon smirked gleefully to himself. The soft laughter turned into a shaky gasp as he slid a hand up her abdomen. Her stomach tightened reflexively as a tense shiver raked down her spine.

Shooting down an accusatory look, Essie caught sight of the flirty impish grin shaping his rounded cheeks and lighting his dark gaze. She offered him a scowl in reply. It was difficult not to squirm as he skimmed his rough palms upward, teasing the shape of her breast.

“This doesn’t seem so ticklish.”

“You watch where you put that mouth of yours, and maybe it won’t have to be.”

His face lit up with the aspect of a challenge. Why in the gods name did she even offer it?

To her surprise, he did not rub his face into her to cause another swell of laughter. With a soft series of kisses he moved lower. Her breath escalated into a pitiful mewl of desire, wrapping her fingers into the depth of his hair to pull him closer.

She was perfectly fooled. A throaty moan that had his senses firing. The dab of perfume on her throat, a subtle vanilla with jasmine that seemed enhanced with the heat of her skin. He came to a pause with the scent still clinging to him as his nose skimmed the opening of her shirt.

Her breath hitched beautifully.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he burrowed his face into her chest.

Essätha squealed, sharply yanking his hair by the roots as snorts of laughter escaped her.

“Staahhahaoop!”

A groan rumbled out of Amon’s chest.

“Watch the hair, Ess’,” he rasped. “You’re pulling it like we’re beneath the sheets.”

Her tongue darted out over her lips, savoring his words as he peered up at her. His accusation turned to want in the deep pools of his gaze. A hard swallow. Still nested against her bosom, his fingertips stroking the front of her shirt.

But she loved his eyes most of all. They were vulnerable. Open books without cautious hands ready to slam shut the pages. The best sort of unguarded doors, that allowed her to walk right in and see the divine beauty of his soul. It was marked with grief, but gentle. Illuminated with softened edges; filled with all the things she admired about him.

He was beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful. He withstood hurricane force winds and seasons of terrible drought; his soul unnourished, his heart unwilling to bend or break. He was a charming looking man. Easy to fall for from his looks alone. But where people would see his stains and grimace, she saw only strength.

“Maybe I want to be beneath the sheets,” she purred, gripping his shoulder as her fingers carded through his hair.

“Even if my beard tickles you?” Amon murmured, placing a sinfully sweet kiss against her cleavage.

Her lips twitched, trying not to allow herself to smile too deeply at the stupidly adorable puppy-dog look of innocent eyes and mocking in his voice.

“I’m just glad it tickles, rather than itches.”

“I maintain my beard,” the nobleman defended shrewdly.

“I know,” she snickered. “I do like the rosemary and grape seed oil you use. It smells enchanting.”

“Mmmm, not as good as you smell,” he breathed in a hush, swiping his tongue against the top of her breast. “I could eat you up.”

A snort of laughter filled her lungs. Since when had she been dating the big bad wolf?

Amon grunted quietly, sliding his hand down her waist, over her hips, and back up as his fingers brushed beneath the hem. Her softened moan pressed to the top of his hairline where she kissed. He could feel her squeeze his arm, and travel down to grab at his ass as he leaned into her. She spurred him on; squeezing his rear and pulling him closer.

Eager to please and even more enthusiastic to get beneath her clothes, Amon crept his hand slowly up her shirt. His rough palm dragged against her curves, listening to her whimper as he frisked her.

“Darling,” he groaned, teasing his teeth in a gentle scrap against the top of her chest.

“Oh Amon,” Essätha panted, urging him closer. “Please.”

Just as he shoved his hand further up her shirt, the thud of heavy boots and clanking of armor had them quickly wrestling away from each other. Wide-eyed and shocked, they looked down the remainder of the stairwell they’d perched themselves on.

The ridge of the man’s brow rose as he looked between them from the bottom steps. Essätha exchanged a glance with the nobleman, swallowing nervously. She could feel the fire on her mortified, flushed face and saw color rising upon Amon’s as their eyes met.

“Good evening you two!” the Paladin stated cheerily. Obliviously as he combed a hand through his snowy white beard, studying them. “Everything alright here?”

She analyzed Abernathy’s face for a sign of recognition. Something that would give away a tell. But he truly seemed puzzled to see them sitting on the top of the stairs, embracing each other so intimately. Amon’s hand was still frozen midway through groping her chest.

“Amon was just… helping me… look for my… necklace…” she slowly choked, feeling the whiplash from her mind trying to come up with an excuse. “It- it fell off. I- I lost it.”

A prolonged silence drifted. Amon felt the beads of sweat forming against his temples. He swallowed, praying to Pelor the man would walk away now, and not notice the obvious tenting in his drawers. The only thing shielding the man’s view was the angle of the stairwell, and his poor sitting position which didn’t help matters. Curled into Essie’s side, his heavy breathing against her throat.

The pointy-eared orc grinned brightly. His tusks as brilliant and gleaming as the rest of his teeth he flashed in the most polite smiles.

“Oh! Is that all?” he chimed with warmth. “Perhaps I could help you two look?”

“No no!” Amon gruffly remarked, clearing his throat. His eyes peeled across the floor, pretending to be searching when he snatched upon thin air. He raised his empty fist, keeping it tightly enclosed as though producing something hidden within. His fist shook slightly as he announced in a cracked voice: “Oooh, see! I found it! It erm… it uh, hadn’t fallen down your shirt at all, Essätha.”

“T-Thank you m’lord,” Essie squeaked, offering a lop-sided and hardly convincing smile down to Abe. “And thank you for offering, Sir Abernathy, but we’re good!”

Abe beamed up at them with a complete lack of understanding. He offered a single nod, before turning on his heel. It scrapped against the wooden floor as he shuffled through the nearby doorframe that lead into the adjacent gambling hall.

In perfect unison, the pair let out a loud gust of air.

The Briarton Lord leaned up close to her ear, squeezing his fingers into her thigh as he breathed into her curls: “Bedroom?”

Flushed, the Yuan-Ti gave a timid laugh, nodding vigorously.

“Please.”

Trading her thigh for her hand, Amon clamored loudly to his feet with a grunt. His knee hit the top step, cursing softly before he stood.

She scrambled up after him. Her fingers wrapped tightly around his, and reaching around to slap his rear as she got up. With eyes like saucers, he startled a moment at the action. It quickly melted into laughter as he squeezed her hand, frantic to urge her along.

They charged the hall like maniacs, laughing all the while.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Nice of you to finally join us, Abe,” Adela purred, elbowing the man in the ribs. “What took you so long?”

He cast a friendly smile at the tiefling.

“Searching for Amon and Essätha. I found them in the stairwell.”

“In the stairwell?” she echoed with a frown. Her eyes darted from him, to the match that Rava was playing. The poor kid really had better luck trying to arm wrestle the brute then play a hand of cards with him. She was already down twenty gold pieces.

Abe turned his gaze on to the match as well. He hummed, bobbing his head in a gentle motion of a nod.

“Essätha lost a piece of jewelry. Amon was helping her find it. They were grappling all over the place.”

The pink-hued woman squinted. Gears in her head begin to turn. She placed a hand gradually to her stunned expression, a bounty of laughter escaping her. She choked on her wheezing, coughing, cackling heckling as best she could, but it distracted the old gentleman from the match. He criticized her with a scrutinizing look.

“What’s so funny? Am I missing something from the match? Did Rava sneak in a joker card again?”

“N-No,” Adela gasped, wiping at the tears misting her eyes. “What did you do?”

Knitting his eyebrows together, the orcish man wisely stated: “Offered to help them, of course. But Amon found it almost as soon as I offered. They seemed pretty shook up and tense. Must be an important necklace.”

Oh dear gods, the man was blind. She buried her face into her hands, practically weeping from her fit of laughter.

“I still do not understand what’s so funny,” Abe commented shortly, fuming as he crossed his arms.

“N-Nothing,” Adela gasped, leaning over to pat his arm. “Good job, Abe.”

He beamed at the compliment. The concept of what he’d just witnessed still flying over his head. Bless the man’s heart, you could put two people right in front of him just short of humping and he didn’t have a clue.

Now, she had wonderful ammunition to tease the two new lovebirds on. And as an added bonus, the knowledge that she could probably sneak just about anything under the radar of Abernathy without him noticing.

What an absolutely fantastic way to end the day.

[deathbylowden]

Love You Goodbye

Just a little something I wrote. Enjoy!

You kick off each of the black suede heels you’d worn out to dinner that nigh and head straight for the bedroom, with Jack close behind. You can hear him shedding the button down you always swear makes his eyes ten times bluer. You take out your earrings and brush a hand through your hair before struggling to unzip your dress. Jack’s lips graze the skin of your bare shoulder as his fingers slowly take over work on sliding the metal zipper down the side of your body. He kisses you once, twice and then you step away. Leaving the dress in a puddle on the bedroom floor, but you spin out of his touch too fast, and he instantly knows that’s somethings wrong. He can already see the tears pooling in your mascara-coated eyelashes as you turn toward the bathroom. He catches your wrist just as you turn away. 

“Hey,” he coaxes, his voice gentle and sweet. He brings you closer. One hand on your hip, the other hand cupping your opposite cheek. His thumb catches a tear as it falls onto your flush cheeks. His eyes are shining but it’s not the usual gleam you find in his pacific colored irises. There’s pain in his eyes and heartbreak— over being away from you, again. He loved his job, but he also loved you. That love, it seemed, only multiplying with every day you spent apart. You shake your head at him, silently disappearing into the bathroom. 

Ten minutes later you find Jack perched on the edge of the bed. His head is in his hands. You can see his fingers rubbing at his temples where his hair runs into his face. His clothes are gone. Now abandoned in a heap on the floor near his dresser. His black boxer-briefs all that’s left on his otherwise bare body. You watch him as you cross quietly to your side of the bed. Sliding between the bedsheets, you watch him do the same. He mirrors your actions from his half of the bed. And tucks one arm beneath his head while he stares at you. You wear a solemn smile on your face as you stare back at him. Something in your eyes reminding him of the first time you met. 

He could still hear the roar of the bass as it echoed wildly through the venue. One of his hands was tucked into the front pocket of his jeans while the other gripped a plastic cup half full of beer. A girl stood not four feet from him. Her hands thrown high in the air, eyes closed as she threw herself into the music. Jack instantly smiled. He hadn’t seen someone so into a performance before. When her eyes finally opened, she spotted a grinning Jack watching from nearby. She smiled the softest smile he’d ever seen and ducked her head when he raised his cup in her direction. The smirk he wore was enough to knock her off her feet. Jack made his way closer. 

“What kind of pretty girl like ye goes to a rock concert alone?” He smirked. She shrugged simply, pulling back just enough to look at him. 

“The single kind,” she replied, her lips so close to the side of his face she could almost feel his skin brush against them. “The kind looking to meet a handsome Scottish guy.” She continued, smirking triumphantly this time. The band transitioned into another song. His single mystery girl once again throwing her hands in the air before she twirled in a circle right next to him. Laughter hugged her smiling lips. Her eyes shining with ease behind her long black lashes. “I love this song!” She sang happily. His heart was dancing in his chest the whole rest of that night. His body aching the whole cab ride to her apartment even later that night. His hands desperate and searching her body. His fingertips trying to soak up the feeling of her bare skin beneath him. Trying to memorize the girl he was already falling for. 

Laying side-by-side in your big bed, Jack’s foot finds yours. Tangling with yours, your fingers clutching the covers as he inches closer. He strokes a thumb along your jawline, asking you what’s on your mind. 

“Please talk to me love. Tell me why ye’re so sad…” You shake your head, but quietly answer his pleading look. 

“I don’t want you to have to leave tomorrow,” you admit solemnly. Eyes now trained on the bunched up sheets between your closed palms. Lower lip trapped between pinched teeth. You didn’t want to bring down the evening with talk of goodbye. You didn’t want to cry tonight. Tonight you just wanted to hold him and feel him. To kiss him and whisper secret words into his flesh. For tonight you wanted the chance to fall asleep with your head on his chest, blissfully numb to what tomorrow would hold. So, you kissed him. Lips crushing to lips as you worked to straddle his hips. Your body on top of his, torsos pressed close beneath the covers. Jack’s hands immediately reach for you. Finding the curve of your spine. Fingertips pushing up the fabric of your sleep shirt in search of bare skin. Trailing each digit in slow succession all the way up your back, he holds you close. Lacing themselves desperately into your silky hair. You can feel the pounding of his heart where it fights against his ribcage. His bare skin is addictive to your personality. You can’t get enough even as he switches positions and pins your body to the mattress. His lips ghost your ear before resting at the side of your neck. You hear him whisper into the arch of your neck. 

“I don’t want to leave ye, either,” he confesses on a quiet breath. A heavy tear drips from each eye. And then Jack is kissing you again. Kissing every inch of skin he can reach. Desperate to get the clothing from your back. Desperate to be closer. And then, there was no more space between you. He entered you so carefully, each thrust slow— deliberate — and so passionately. His body was heavy against yours. Skin growing warm, and sticking to yours as he pinned your body to the sheets. Your breathing was ragged and labored with every move he made. Your lust oozing from every pore in your sweat slicked skin. 

“Jack…” His name came out like a whimper, falling from your parted lips on a shaky breath. “‘More,” you moaned— pleaded— unable to speak as he lifted your back from the bed and forced himself even deeper. Your heart was pounding wildly against your ribcage. Eyes screwed shut with a blinding force. Your nails raking harsh lines across the length of his bare back while you forced your back higher off the mattress. 

“So go—od,” Jack all but growled, his lips latching desperately onto the skin of your neck. “Yer’re s—so beautiful,” he panted through tightened jaw. Moving in a sloppy path, his teeth dragging across your bare shoulder. He was sure to be leaving bruises in his wake. A beautiful reminder of his love, coming in the form of organic purple markings. He was being rougher than usual. But you didn’t much care. You were lost in him. Lost in his touch. Wanting to hold onto this moment forever. Needing to remember the way his hands felt as they desperately roamed every inch of skin he could reach. Needing to savor this moment forever, filing it away in a special place in your memory. Because in a few hours he would be gone. You, left alone in this bed. Left with nothing but the ghost of his touch. In a few short hours you’d both be saying goodbye in new ways. Using your words instead of your bodies. But for tonight — while darkness still coated the sky in inky shades of blue — you had this moment. You had right now, and the feeling of being impossibly close to him. Bodies choreographed as one, in a dance only the two of you knew. As his parted lips slotted against yours, you could feel the rumble of his labored grunts slip down your throat. 

“I love ye,” he managed to say, “I love ye so much.” He was holding nothing back. Sparing no kiss — No touch. He brought the love he felt for you to the surface of himself, inking it onto your skin with each kiss. This act was more than just sex. More than just bodies colliding and hips thrusting. More than hot kisses on sweaty skin. This was a profession of love — a promise — for the future. A promise, for his return.