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fraugwinska · 6 months ago

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My wonderful friend @macabr3-barbi3 is currently writing one of my absolute comfort fics. I know, I raved about her 'Heart Reset' series a few times on this blog, but my fingers itched and produced this: A little tribute oneshot for Vox and her OC Kora, which I gifted to her. She graciously allowed me to post it here, but please, show her and the fic the love they deserve <3 ILY Barbie!

"What about poker? That's easy, and I have a full deck lying around somewhere..."

"Only if we make it interesting, doll...", he wiggles his brows at Kora suggestively, who in return throws a pillow into his flat face. Vincent and Kora had been trying, for hours it seemed, to find a game for them they both enjoyed, as it was a rare evening they both had time off of work and other obligations. A 'Game Night' sounded fun in theory, but it proved to be aggravatingly complicated to find something to play that neither of them both enraged so much that they had to flip the table.

Vincent suggested Monopoly, but it quickly became apparent that it only got out the worst of him - after fifteen mere minutes Vincent had already bought various streets, sent Kora to jail and built hotels, draining her fake account and getting her to the brink of tears with snide remarks. It had taken another fifteen minutes of him apologizing profusely and a big fat chocolate milkshake for Kora until they decided to pack the game away and never touch it again.

Kora's choice was Yahtzee, but the dice were not as kind to Vincent as they were to Kora, and two frustratingly bad rounds later they flew through the window with a crash, along with the dice cup and his point sheets and pencil.

Now he was sitting, still brooding, at the dinner table with a strawberry milkshake of his own (made by a half-guilty/half-bemused) Kora as she was searching in her worn-down trunk for another game that wouldn't end their fresh relationship.

"Mh... I have a fake copy of Candyland, but it looks like some of the pieces are missing...", she mumbled, ruffling through the carton and picking up a chess piece that was painted like a candy corn. Vincent just had to laugh - leave it to this dollface to pay good money for the dumbest badly-made counterfeit game ever. His milkshake was nearing it's end and with his mood slightly improved, he leaned his face onto his hand, gazing at Kora and chuckling when another piece flew out of the carton and clashed loudly on the tiles.

"We could just get hammered tonight." He suggested, to which Kora shook her head in defeat, slamming the lid of the trunk closed and dropping heavily on the seat opposite Vincent's. "We still have the bottle of Brimstone's Fire-Liquor we got on sale... maybe you're more up to my poker idea with a little buzz?"

Her ears perked up, and for a split second Vincent thought he had actually convinced her as her tail began to wag. "No to the poker thing,", she tutted, jumping up to retrieve the dusty bottle from the depths of the kitchen cabinet, along with two shot glasses. "But we can play a drinking game! Do you know 'Never have I ever'?"

As he shook his head, she went on to explain the rules of the game as she filled up both glasses: One player makes a statement starting with 'never have I ever', followed by a simple statement like 'Never have I ever ate a grape in a supermarket'. They would have to drink if they ever actually did it, then it's the next player's turn to make a statement. The whole concept was stupidly simple, Vincent understood pretty fast and he agreed immediately to give the game a try - he was curious to find out more about how and what Kora used to do and be in her life.

As it turned out, their first turns didn't uncover much about each other that they didn't already know. Vincent drank at Kora's "Never have I ever smoked a cigarette.", which wasn't a surprise as he still sometimes had a smoke on the fire escape when work became too much and he had to pull an all-nighter. Kora drank at his "Never have I ever bought a bra.", grumbling about him cheating the system, to which he just smirked at her, cheering his empty glass at her full one and cooed "Bottoms up, sweetheart."

After a while and a few rounds of shots, things got more silly and personal.

"Mmmmh. Never have I ever... slept with a dude!", Kora giggles, granting herself an easy shot. The liquor already starting to affect her small, pliable body with flushed cheeks and with it apparently her healthy sense of self-control. Vincent looked at his glass and then up at her, narrowing his eyes a bit to scrutinize her before sighing and emptying his glass in one long swig. When he looks up, the faint blush that had tinted the cream color of Kora's cheeks had deepened, she stares at him with startled surprise and Vincent clears his throat as he looks away. He knew she wanted to ask, and he was thankful that she had some of her mind left to not pry into that sensitive topic and instead opens a bag of her beloved (and disgusting) chicken and waffle-flavored potato chips, munching obviously loud while rambling about the scarce selection hell had when it came to snacks. He felt too sober for that particular conversation, even eight shots in.

"Alright. My turn,", he leans over the table, elbows resting on the varnished top and his face near hers. "Never have I ever used a sex toy on myself." With a sly smile he lets himself fall back on his seat, turning his empty glass around, eyeing the blushing girl across the table with smug interest. She rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at him as she downs the drink, shivering profusely. "Firstly: Unfair, again." She takes a deep breath, shaking her head. "Secondly - this stuff gets worse with every round, doesn't it?"

Vincent can't help but chuckle as he watches Kora clumsily reaching over the table to pour the rest of the dark amber liquid in the two empty glasses. "Okay, big guy, just enough for one last round. And at least try to be less obvious in wanting only me to take a swig."

"Alright, but only if you play by that rule too, sweetcheeks."

"Deal." She holds the shot glass up and looks at him curiously. "So, hit me."

Vincent looks at her, thinking hard about what he'd like to know about her. There are questions about her that are eating at him, especially now as the booze loosened his mind, questions that started out innocuous enough, but ended with either embarrassing or really hot imagery - fuck, get a grip, Vin, he thinks and hums. Something in his circuits was going haywire as a thought comes to him, a chance this stupid game offered right in this moment, there for the taking - if he would be brave enough.

"Never have I ever ...", Vincent's speech is slower, carefully choosing the words before saying it aloud - he couldn't follow through, not yet. But maybe he could start with a compromise."... lived together with a beautiful, clumsy, adorable and nerdy girl." He quickly drank, ignoring Kora's touched expression, so fucking sentimental and mushy, before quickly adding "...with great tits and shit taste in home decor. I mean, look at that ugly porcelain duck you bought last week at the gnat market. Seriously." He rambles, seeing her mouth curve up into a bemused smile. No, it was too early to say, even to think... that he was falling in love, slowly but surely and steadily. The whole corny thing wasn't him, but maybe, one day he could...

"Hey, as far as I know, this duck was made by Lucifer himself. The vendor said so." she laughes, her nose crinkled a bit with a teasing grin on her face, breaking the somber thoughts swirling in Vincent's head. He grumbles and makes a noise, slapping his head. "Right, because a rugged lizard with an eye patch surely knows his way around the king of hell."

"Hey, you know what they say... never judge a book yada yada." Kora scrunches her face as she leanes on the edge of the table, eyes closed and brows furrowed. "Okay, now let's see... Never have I ever..." Her hesitation and her quiet, dulcet tone makes Vincent curious, the drink he took burning lowly in his circuits and stomach as he leans forward once more.

As he waits patiently for her to continue, he notices that she's wringing her hands under the table, tail swishing behind her and ears flicking back nervously. Eventually she huffs a quiet sigh, shaking her head as if to chase a thought away, not unlike he did just minutes ago. Vincent wonders what statement she discarded, if it would've been the same as his, but was interrupted when she finally speaks up.

"Never have I ever been glad that I met you, Vincent." He feels the strange sensation of his screen overheating, staring at her as she takes the last shot with a genuine smile. He watches her stand up on wobbly feet, rounding the table and taking his much too big TV head in her hands. He wants to say something clever or witty, but before he can really react Vincent already feels the gentle press of her soft, smooth lips on him, a touch of skin to screen that had become so familiar to him, yet it feels heavier with much more unsaid words than it ever did before.

She tastes like Brimstone's, like vanilla and those god awful potato chips she loved, like home and like an emotion he was almost scared of facing, but happy to stay lost in for now. The buzz from the alcohol combined with Kora's tender kiss is almost dizzying as she moves back to see Vincent's response - the soft rumble in his chest and a claw coming up to gently pat her head is apparently the right answer as her own purring increased and her eyes drooped a bit.

"...well, doll, that makes two of us, then."

She huffs when he pulls her into his lap, relishing in the soft warmth of her body against his, kissing the ticklish spot in the crook of her neck which earns him a whined yelp and a writhing, cursing Kora in his arms. He grins against her skin, teasingly blowing one raspberry after another and laughing wholeheartedly at the creative insults thrown in between panting breaths and giggles. The rumble in his chest builds furhter and his circuits flutter pleasantly with the thought that it could all be just them, like this, for eternity...

He was glad for what they had right now and for what was to eventually come, glad for the life they were slowly building together... and he was even glad for the fucking ugly duck.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #vox x oc #vox fanfiction #Vox is a corporate asshole at monopoly #vox can't play yahtzee for dear life #Kora is a GOOD GIRL #GOD I love this pair so much #Vox's bisexuality confirmed #ily macabr3 barbi3

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sunnytastic-and-the-olympians · 1 year ago

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Little author's note before I begin: To anyone following this absolutely riveting blog series, I have changed my blog name from @aangtheairfairy to @sunnytastic-and-the-olympians, just to make it easier to know it's me when I like and follow from my main blog (if you are into It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, come follow me on my main, @sunnytastic)

So guess who just finished The Titan's Curse???

You're right, this guy!!!

Right off the bat, I can say The Titan's Curse has lost its place as my favorite PJO book. Currently, the title belongs to The Sea of Monsters. I'm interested to see if The Battle of the Labyrinth or The Last Olympian will take its place. If I remember correctly, The Battle of the Labyrinth was my childhood favorite…

Ok, now moving on to the actual book.

I actually found it kind of boring?

Actually, let me rephrase: I found the novel repetitive. This is probably my fault since I am reading all the PJO books back to back, but The Titan's Curse reminded me a lot of The Lightning Thief, whereas The Sea of Monsters felt like something new entirely.

Don't misunderstand me though. I still very much enjoyed reading this book. When you love something as much as I love the Percy Jackson books, it's almost misleading to present criticisms of it, because it implies that I didn't find pleasure in reading the book, which could not be further from the truth.

The Titan's Curse is where the side characters of the PJO World really begin to shine. While many female characters written by male authors fall flat at best, and downright insulting at worst, Rick Riordan manages to write complex female characters without falling into too many cliches. Thalia, Zoe, and Bianca are fantastic characters, each with a rich backstory and detailed motivations.

(Also, we need more Thalia x Zoe fics because goddamn, did those two have romantic tension. Talk about the enemies-to-lovers trope…)

Zoe, in particular, is extremely well-written. While Riordan is famous for weaving mythology into modern stories, the infusion of Heracle's 11th labor into Zoe's backstory is especially remarkable. It is one thing to create new stories based on established lore; it is another to create a new character within established lore. Her death left me unusually melancholic. When a character I love dies, I react with big emotions, often (half-heartedly) hating the author and begging for their return. But Zoe's death invoked a softer feeling of pensive sorrow. While most tragic heroes deserve better, Zoe's tragedy seems especially undeserved.

While I started writing this blog post last night, I am glad I waited until this afternoon to finish because I recently had some great conversations that expanded my view on the Percabeth dynamic. I feel my analysis of the evolution of their relationship in this book will be more thoughtful than it would have been before these conversations.

While I missed Annabeth's presence in The Titan's Curse, I recognize how useful it is for exploring Percy's growing crush on Annabeth. What's the saying? Distance (and mortal danger) makes the heart grow fonder?

Annabeth's disappearance causes Percy to evaluate the place Annabeth has in his life. The previous book, The Sea of Monsters, had a similar plot, with Grover being captured and Percy going to rescue him, but a major difference between the two books is that in The Titan's Curse, Percy seems in denial of the reason he joined the quest- so much so that Aphrodite even calls him out on it.

Additionally, Percy is worried Annabeth will leave him for the Hunters, but he doesn't have as many reservations when Grover decides to leave to search for Pan. Percy supports his friends following their dreams, but Percy also realizes there is a difference between Grover going personal quest to find Pan and Annabeth swearing him off forever to join the Hunters. This distress isn't entirely romantic either. Part of what makes Percabeth so compelling is the strong friendship which their romantic relationship builds upon.

I believe this is where most of Percy's confusion comes from. When you go from friends to lovers, you spend a lot of time questioning what separates this friendship from your other relationships. And it's very easy to mistake your romantic feelings for a deepening friendship (especially because the two are not mutually exclusive and in fact, occur alongside each other).

This is why I find Aphrodite's quote to be so poignant: "Exquisitely painful, isn't it? Not being sure who you love and who loves you?" As a die-hard romantic, I live by this quote because, for me, it means taking the chance, because if the love is true, the joy you receive outweighs the hurt if it isn't. But for a 14-year-old navigating romantic feelings for this time, every aspect of love seems precarious, especially if your feelings are toward a friend you don't want to risk losing.

I think a lot of Percy's obliviousness comes from a place of "if I don't acknowledge my crush, it doesn't have the potential to end badly." But ignoring things doesn't make them go away and in fact, often makes them worse, as evident in Percy and Annabeth's strained relationship in The Battle of Labyrinth.

This blog post was a fun one. Last night when I started writing this, I was really unsure what to say. I didn't really know what to write about, especially considering my ideas for the blog posts for The Lightning Thief and The Sea of Monsters came to me quickly. However, I am proud of this post because I had to actually think hard about the novel to pull out ideas to analyze and expand upon. The Percabeth analysis, in particular, is much more nuanced than my usual posts about the two.

Book 3 is down. Only two more to go!

As always, TLDR: The Titan's Curse is no longer my favorite, Zoe is a unique character, and Percy's being oblivious to his crush on Annabeth is not entirely unusual.

And because it satisfies my curiosity, this blog post comes in at about 900 words.

Links to the other blog posts in the Isa Rereads Percy Jackson series:

The Lightning Thief

The Sea of Monsters

#isa rereads percy jackson #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #percy jackson and the olympians

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godofglitter · 1 year ago

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This one is about art, and anonymity.

Yesterday as I was walking through a cutesy fair near the Ferry Building in SF, i stumbled upon this old man with a bunch of disheveled looking tables with mismatched and half falling off tablecloths, littered with circuit boards covered in curious imagery- astronauts and human hearts and moons. It was a cool idea, and of course as an engineer when I saw circuit boards I was immediately pulled in. Upon asking the man claimed his boards came from NASA, and that he was commissioning a 26 foot art piece for the new OpenAI office- and me, not knowing who this man was, immediately filed all this information in the "bullshit" box in my head. It wasn't conscious, yet part of growing up is developing an inherent skepticism for the world, hardened layer by layer after each interaction with street painters claiming to be picasso, like those people in vegas that dress like celebrities and make you believe for a second you've breathed the same air as a star.

He was so kind, this artist, despite my ignorance. I did not know enough about vintage boards to appreciate his IBM '92, or about waste copper to marvel at his planet prints, or about art and the price of creativity. His art was piled all together, expensive pieces mingling with the slightly less expensive ones, and me being too broke for cool things I tried to tell him I couldn't partake in his repurposing of destructive technology. Yet he was patient, and understanding, and after a short search and more bonding moments over his father's profession (mechanical engineering, like me) i parted with a beautiful piece depicting planets and sun signs on a layout of balboa PCBs that i paid what is an extravagant amount for me but was apparently absurdly low for him.

When i got home I almost didn't want to look him up*. I wanted to cling to the naïveté of believing his stories, his ambitions. I wanted to walk over to that side of town weeks later and see a giant wall covered in discarded electronics saying a big fuck you, from: art, to one of the world's largest AI companies and smile and think of that windy day in san fransisco. I didn't want him to be a dupe, because if he was it would mean that my moment of pure heartedness was truly misplaced, and it would strengthen my skepticism all the more.

But then again, is art worth a price because of the weight of the name behind it, or because it makes you feel a certain way? If something in these old abandoned circuit boards resonated with me- the way a human heart was almost beating up to life on the backs of something that may well replace human hearts in the future- then that resonance should be worth more than whether I'd heard the artist's name before. Who decided who becomes famous, and who gets lost in streets and mussed tablecloths and fallen names? And in the end, aren't kind hands worth more than curated, perfection-ized ones?

When it came time to pay I didn't have a card, or cash- 21st century woman that i am- and with the last dredges of my battery i made what was his first ever apple pay payment on the little square that stuck out of his phone. The little click and chime was nothing new to me, but he said "I have lived 75 years, and this is the first time I have been able to receive payment on my phone like this" or something along those lines. Weeks, months, days from now my memory will fade, and so will his- but I hope that just like his rendering of science and beauty will stay with me forever, the memory of the girl in the tiger print shirt who didn't know who he was but was drawn helplessly to his art will stay with him, if not forever then at least for a little while.

On a separate note, enjoy a screen recording of my decorating my wall with his art and with all the other art I've acquired (and made) over the years because this feels like a safer, less known space than the hoards of people I don't know on instagram. I want to look back at this blog years later and find myself in past words. This is my moment, frozen, lest I lose myself along the way.

*To my immense relief, he is "real". His name is Sean Kilcoyne (who is also a baseball player? what?). Here is an article talking about his artwork in SF from 1997: https://www.sfgate.com/homeandgarden/article/gallery-displays-handcrafted-works-2790517.php

#san francisco #art #local artist #local artwork #sean kilcoyne #reflection #instagram reels #reels #decoration #wall decor #ibm #balboa pcb #cute space buns

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httpdabi · 3 years ago

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The Game

Genre: Smut

Summary: Playing a game made for couples with your best friend wasn’t such a bright idea. Or was it ?

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors, leave me and my blog alone), spanking, mention of daddy kink, cream pie, rough, dom!Dabi, praising

,, Can you hurry up already ? ‘’ Touya yelled from the living room as you were getting ready. ,, We are only going to buy groceries, we ain’t going to Met Gala for fucks sake’’ he hissed, once he realised that you ain’t answering him.

,, Give me a second’’ you screamed, as you were putting on your mascara carefully.

,, I gave you a whole fucking hour, woman’’ Touya snapped back, rolling his eyes playfully. He had to stress around a bit. Thinking about it, the two of you looked like married couple, yet you were nothing more than two best friends and roommates.

Once you were done, you made your way toward the shopping center that wasn’t that far away from your apartment. There wasn’t any specific reason the two of you were going there, you only needed some groceries to get, and you could literally get that in the store near your apartment. But the two of you decided to go out a bit, since both of you were pretty much focused on the studies last few days.

You and Touya know each other since you were little kids. Your mother and Rei were childhood best friends, so you and Touya grew up together. It was one of those forced friendships, that would have some huge development later on. As you were getting older, you started realising that you actually liked spending your time with him.

,, I hate this.. When I have money, there is nothing nice to buy, but when I’m broke as fuck, every dress is looking beautiful’’ you rolled your eyes disappointedly. Every time you don’t have much money, the stores around are having such a beautiful collections.

Of course, being your best friend, Touya always bought you clothes you had your eyes on, as a small surprise after you had a long and hard day at uni. You really loved him. Not only because of that, but simply for being him. Everyone knew how damn grateful you were for having him and your life and you really never tried to hide that.

,, Let’s go see if they have some board games, maybe we can buy something and play tonight’’ Touya suggested, grabbing your hand as he took the lead. Every time Touya would hold your hand, your heart would skip a beat. Probably because of the fact that you had one big and fat crush on your best friend.

You were not sure when did it start. Maybe when he pierced his nose, or when people started thinking that the two of you are couple, or maybe the feeling was always there, but you kept it somewhere buried in your mind. Hiding it from everyone and especially from him.

,, Oh, I always wanted to play thing game’’ Touya said, holding a small, black package in his hands. You tried to grab it away from him, but unsuccessfully.

,, What is it ? Show me’’ You squeaked excitedly, hoping it’s something fun.

,, It’s Drunk in love’’ He said, waving the small package in the air. Confusion and jealousy washed over you as you looked at the back of the package. You’ve heard about that game, it’s one for couples.

,, Should we buy it ? I really want to play it’’ He asked. Only confusion was left in your body once he asked you that.

,, Isn’t that a game for couples ?’’ You asked him back.

,, Yeah, but it really isn’t something special, after all everyone is mistaking us for couple, so i don’t see a problem here’’ Touya said, winking at you. ,, Unless you are scared’’ he added fast. You knew that he was just trying to tease you a bit, it was how he always got things his way.

,, You know very well that I ain’t scared. But Touya, that’s not something we should play’’ you said honestly. Sure you would love to play that with him, but you didn’t know what kind of game that really is, so it gave you mixed feelings.

,, Trust me, the game is not a big deal. It’s just fun.’’ He said, looking down at you, hoping you’ll agree with his suggestion. ,, Trust me doll’’ he repeated, and the moment you let a deep breath out and rolled your eyes, Touya knew that he won, making his way to the cashier immediately.

,, Let’s buy something to drink at least’’ you said, hoping that the game won’t be so bad at the end.

,, We have to, it’s a drinking game anyway’’ Touya laughed, placing one arm around you, as the two of you walked to the store with alcohol.

The two of you bought a bottle of vodka, before you made your way home. Not wasting any time, Touya helped you put the groceries in the fridge, before he opened the small package. He took two small glasses for shots, and placed them beside the deck of cards that were already on the table in the living room.

You took two normal glasses and orange juice, in case the vodka might be too much. Touya was already waiting for you, searching for some music on YouTube, as he sat on the floor.

,,Here’’ Touya offered you a cigarette, once you sat on the other side, placing one pillow under your ass. You gladly accepted the cigarette, as you enjoyed the music he found.

The two of you drank few shots of vodka, before you started to play. You weren’t sure what to expect of that game, but if you were being honest, the alcohol was helping you, even tho it was just a little bit.

,, Imma go first’’ Touya said, taking one card. ,, Describe your worst hookup ever or drink’’ he read it out lout. Okay, that wasn’t something so bad, after all, you’ve already talked about it with him.

,, Ehh, that one time I slept with Kai.’’ You said rolling your eyes as you thought about it.

,,Ah, that time when you though he’s still fingering you ?’’ Touya asked, laughing a bit.

,, Yes Touya, his dick was that small’’ You laughed, feeling a little bit more comfy about the stupid game. ,, My turn’’ you added, taking one card.

,, Reveal your biggest sexual fantasy or drink’’ You read it excitedly, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

,, Yeah, no’’ Touya laughed, taking a shot without thinking twice, leaving you all disappointed. ,, Pull another one’’ Touya said, closing his eyes because of the strong taste of the alcohol.

,, Give your parter a piggy back ride around the room or drink’’ a big smile formed on your face as you read the sentence.

,, Easy peasy’’ Touya commented, standing up. The moment he turned around, giving you a sign to hop on his back, you did it. The two of you looked like children, running around the apartment like crazy.

,, Drink if you’ve ever faked an orgasm’’ Touya said, placing the card on the table. Of course you had to drink, thanking God you didn’t have to take a shot for every orgasm you faked.

Card after card, and shot after shot, the two of you were getting tipsier and the cards were getting spicier.

,, Blindfold your partner and make them guess which body part they’re touching or drink’’ Touya read the sentence, glad he was the one who found it first. ,, Yeah, you gonna chicken out ‘’ he teased.

,, Shut up and close your eyes’’ You said thinking about what part you should let him touch. Everything was way too easy to guess. At one point you were almost sure that there was a typo on the card, and that you should touch yourself and he should guess which part, but Touya was 100% sure that he was supposed to touch you.

Taking his hands, you decided that it would be the best if he would touch your collar and breast bones. At your surprise, he was tracing his fingers lightly over your skin, furrowing his eyebrows confusingly as he tried to understand what part of your body he’s touching.

,, Collarbones’’ He said opening his eyes immediately. ,, Ok, you’ve lost, drink’’ he commanded with a smirk on his face, as he took another card.

,, Take one article of clothing or drink’’ Touya placed the card on the table, leaning back onto the lower part of your couch. When he took of his shirt, showing of his perfectly toned body covered with various different tattoos, you realised that the card was referring to both of you. Since your shirt was a bit oversized, you decided to take of your pants.

Trying to ignore the small situation you found yourself in, you took another card fast.

,, Let your partner spank you or drink’’ you read it confusedly, trying to understand what the fuck is happening. Once you understood, you started shaking your head in disbelief, following with one loud laugh. What the fuck did you get yourself into ?

,, Come on doll, come to daddy ‘’ Touya joked, spreading his arms over the couch, as you took the shot of vodka anyway, before you made your way toward him.

Not giving you much time, Touya pulled you down, bending you over his lap. ,, You have no idea how much I wanted to do this’’ He confessed, as he pulled your shirt just enough to show your ass. You couldn’t even focus on his small confession, since you were trying to prepare yourself on the upcoming spanks.

Instead of spanking you, Touya decided to take his time with you, tracing his fingers over your hips and playing with the ends of your panties, pulling them up, forming a thong with them. You were glad that some alcohol was in your system, because you were pretty sure that sober you would never survive that.

,, Now doll, be a good girl and take every single spank for daddy’’ Touya whispered, before he connected his palm with your ass cheek, making you yelp in pain. With every spank he gave you, the pain was getting intenser. But you didn’t mind, after all, isn’t that what you wished for ?

,, Such a good Girl’’ He prised, caressing the red marks he left over your ass. Once you got back on the other side of the table, both you and him started laughing hysterically.

,, Lick your partner below the waist or finish your drink’’ Touya said, smirking widely once again. ,, There’s no way I’m finishing this drink’’ He added, grabbing your arm and pushing you toward him.Touya pushed up on the couch, as he started licking your legs slowly.

You couldn’t believe what the fuck was happening. Both of you half naked, playing some overly sexual game, which led him to licking your legs. You weren’t sure what was driving you more crazy, him licking your legs or his erection that was showing under his grey sweatpants.

Touya placed his hand on your tight, giving in one strong squeeze as he was placing wet kisses on your right inner tight. You could feel his lips getting closer and closer to your private parts, but you didn’t dare to say anything.

,, Wanna know what my fantasy is ?’’ Touya asked, kissing and biting onto the skin around your panties. All you could do is nod your head quietly, lost under his touch and soft kisses.

,, You, you are my biggest fantasy. I want to have you all for myself’’ Touya said hovering over you. ,, I want you to be mine’’ he added, looking you directly in the eyes, before he started leaving soft kisses all over your face.

,, Wanna be mine ? Just you and me doll’’ He asked, biting your lip.

,, Yes’’ You answered him so fast. Fuck yes you want to be his, He didn’t even have to ask you that, you were always his.

Once he heard you say that, Touya pulled his sweatpants and boxers down, letting his hard dick jump straight up. Not breaking the kiss, he started rubbing the tip of his dick around your entrance.

,, Doll, tell me if I’m too rought’’ He said, entering you slowly while he sucked onto your neck, leaving wet love bites. You couldn’t manage to give him a proper answer, hoping that simply nodding your head was understandable enough.

Once he was fully inside of you, he gave you some time to adjust to his size before he started rocking his hips into you. He wasn’t doing it slow, and the position you were in wasn’t the most comfortable one, but you didn’t care about that. All you could think of was the pleasure he was giving you at the moment, mixed with pain.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he rammed into you recklessly, breathing into your neck as his moves were getting stronger and stronger.

,, So tight for me’’ Touya groaned, enjoying the warm feeling your walls were giving him. It felt like you were made just for him. Placing one hand on your hip, and other one on the edge of the couch, he increased his speed, fucking you stronger and deeper than before. With every move he made, he was hitting your g spot, making you moan louder and louder. You were pretty sure that your neighbours were able to hear the two of you, but none of you gave a single fuck.

Both of you were about to cum. His groans were getting louder, and he was fucking you ever harder, while your walls were getting tighter and tighter around him, making it even more enjoyable for him.

,, You can cum inside’’ You managed to say somehow, moaning his name and squeezing your eyes shut once you reached your high.

,, I was planning to ’’ He groaned, fucking you through your orgasm, making it even better for you. After few thrusts, he spilled his seed deep into you. Moving few more times as he made sure to fill you nice and good, not wasting a single drop of his sperm. Once he was done, he collapsed on top of you, fighting for his breath.

,, I love you so much Doll’’ he said, connecting his lips with your own.

,, I love you too’’ You answered him, smiling widely into the kiss.

That night he took care of you, cleaning you, and taking you to his room, making sure that you are alright and that he didn’t hurt you. That night he made sure to clear some things out, he made sure that you wouldn’t think this was some sort of misunderstanding. Telling you how he actually always wanted to ask you out, and how that game was just a chance for him to get him where he is now. With you in his bed, locked between his arms.

That night you understood that your crush was never one sided, and that you were the reason why your best friend never dated anyone else.

Who would have thought that such a dirty game could bring people together ? Would lead them to confessing to each other. You sure didn’t think so, yet there you are, instead of daydreaming about it, you are enjoying the warmth of your best friend, roommate and lover.

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pankeki-25 · 3 years ago

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Next to you

Tech x GN! Reader

Rating: SFW 16+ (but the 1st rule in this blog is "M I N O R S do not interact")

Pairing: Tech x GN! Reader

Word Count: 691 (new personal record!)

Warnings: fluff | reader is sick | fever delirium | a lot of tears |

A/N: A half of this I wrote it while I was feeling really bad and then I spent all the day working on it, my mind wasn't quiet until I finished.

This is officially my first fanfic!, so I understand if this isn't good but please don't be rude.

I hope you like it like I enjoyed to write it.

Divider: firefly-graphics

“Cya’re?” he asked, going into the ship.

You heard his voice very further, your entire body was aching and shivering, your eyes were dry and keeping open was hurting a lot. You were on the floor? In your bunk? Where were you? You only felt dazed and tired.

He kneels next to you and his cold hand reaches your forehead making you shake “Stars, mesh’la, you’re boiling” announced worriedly.

“Get out!, I’m sick, I don’t want to make you too” you shout, keeping away his arms about to carry you.

“Shhhh, I never get sick, the clones were designed to never get sick” explained while without effort he carried you and lay in your bunk. “Maker y/n, where did you catch this?, give me a minute, I need to do an exam”, you heard his steps to the cockpit, moving your head was a nightmare so you prefer to keep it still.

“Don’t close your eyes honey, I need you awake” then he put a thermometer in your armpit, he sat you and with a stethoscope began to hear your heart and your lungs, feeling the cold bell in your back. Finally he checked the blood pressure before laying you again.

“I want a chokie cakeeee with a looooot of apleeeeees”, you didn’t have idea where it come from, like you were under a strong spell that forced to say stupid things, “and a BIG warm chocolate muuuuuuug with too much…” a constant beeping interrupted you, making a disapproval face that could be funny if you weren’t sick.

“Ok, you’re 38.3 grades, you’re raving”, said checking the thermometer. He sat up and you grabbed by his wrist.

“NO!, don’t leave me alone. Pleasepleaseplease, don’t go” you cried desperately squeezing his wrist.

“Sorry my love I need to attend to you immediately, I don’t want you to get worse”, patiently he removed your hand and before going he squished softly.

But the moment he took from your side you began to cry, big tears like raindrops were ready to show up, but even a simple tear rolling by your cheek hurts a lot, making you cry more and more.

When he returned, first he sat you again, opened your mouth carefully and put some drops of something sweet inside it, then lay you it again and he went to the refresher and back with a little towel soaked in water, he folded in half and placed it on your forehead, the cold sensation makes you shiver and distract you from crying.

“Why can't I have a crab?, can we have a crab?”, you said softly a few minutes later.

“Mesh’la, you know why we can’t have pets on the ship”, he sat in front of you with his back leaning against the wall, his elbows resting on his knees, watching you with love, holding his desire to laugh with all the silly things you were saying.

“Yeah, what about a giraffe?”

“No sweetie, we can’t have a giraffe”.

“¿Really?, you gave me a giraffe because you saw me really happy in that store”.

“You couldn’t just say ‘Tech, I want my giraffe, can you give it to me?’”

“Haha, no, sorry”.

With a long sigh he standed up, going to search for your plushie. He didn’t buy it because you looked happy, he bought it because in your eyes you had a special sparkle and he was in love with that sparkle.

“You’re lucky, my dear”, announced while he took off the towel from your forehead “Omega was taking care of your giraffe”, then he put the plush in your hands.

“Thank you, my love”, you hugged the toy with too much affection. Having that simple toy makes you feel peaceful and finally you begin to sleep, feeling your eyelids very heavy to keep it open.

With love he covered you with the blankets and gave you a tender kiss on your cheek.

“You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise you”, whispered in your ear and finished with a last kiss in your temple.

“Don’t go, please”, you requested.

“I didn’t have plans to leave from your side, mesh’la”.

#tbb fanfiction #the bad batch #tech bad batch #tbb tech x reader #tech x you #tbb tech #tbb tech x you #tech x reader #bad batch tech #the bad batch tech #sick tw #fever tw #tbb #clone trooper tech #star wars #tech the bad batch #my writing #fluff

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goggles-mcgee · 4 years ago

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Too Late: Alya & Nino (commission for miner249er)

Fourth chapter of @miner249er ‘s commission

Chapter Summary: The truth is harsh. Teens are harsher.

Previous Work

Last Chapter Next Chapter

Truth.

As an aspiring journalist it was something Alya strived for. It was the most important thing she could give the people who followed her so diligently. She thought she had been giving them that. She had been so good about giving them the truth, her truth, and Ladybug’s truth in the past, she foolheartedly believed she was continuing to do so despite taking shortcuts later on in the road. Why didn’t she fact check herself? Why did she throw that very thing in Marinette’s face? What kind of reporter was she? What kind of friend was she? The answers were all around her and yet she still wasn’t ready to face them head on. There was still that voice in her head that was telling her that this was all Lila Rossi’s fault.

But is it? Alya thought as her and Nino ate together at her house, the TV on in the background. At first it had been on the news but Alya was done with the news for a long while, all it had been was coverage of The Protector and Nino had immediately taken the remote and changed it to cartoons. This was hitting him hard, harder than Alya had expected if she was being honest. When they found out Ladybug and Chat Noir had, in fact, not defeated The Protector and instead the akuma, that Marinette had gone missing, it hit the class hard. Hard because they learned the truth about Lila in that time and that had been rough to work through. Then they had to come to the realization that they believed Lila over Marinette, the sweet, kind, selfless girl that had all at one point been friends with.

Then the lies got to them. It poisoned them. That’s what Alya had written on her blog anyways. They were victims of a silver-tongue and they had paid the price, one they had not been prepared to pay for. Their friend was missing, had been missing and they couldn’t do anything. Alya had been searching through as many local papers and news around the world for any clues if Marinette had possibly gone to those places. Everything was coming up empty. She had even made a separate website along with Max all about Marinette and what had happened, she left ways to reach her and her classmates in case anyone had any info. Nino said they should have added Tom and Sabine’s information as well but Alya was too scared to ask them if they would be okay with it, last time they had all been at the bakery the tension had been palpable.

They weren’t banned like Nathaniel had worried they would be but every time they went in with their families, because that was the only time they went in there, it was always awkward. Tom and Sabine were much too nice to ban them even if they felt like they deserved it. How did everything go so wrong? Even school wasn’t as fun as it had been. Walking into their classroom was like taking a walk of shame, people from other classes, even teachers just stared at them. Some even glared. Then there were the whispers, Dieu the whispers, they followed them everywhere not just school, but they were the most prominent there. Her, Nino, and their classmates would find notes in their lockers, none were really threatening but they tore at her heart all the same. Things like, ‘You’re the reason she’s gone,’ or, ‘Are you guys proud of yourselves now?’ ‘Were the lies worth it?’ ‘You traded in a gem for fool’s gold.’ ‘What a reporter you turned out to be.’

All the notes hurt. That was the truth. That last one? She had found it in her locker this morning and it burned. Alya had been bullied before, she never liked to think about it, who would? But she was and she had to acknowledge it because she had told herself she would never allow herself to be bullied again, and most importantly, she would never turn into a bully. Wrong. She was wrong, and it wasn’t the first time she had been made aware of this since everything happened. Since everything changed. It was a blessing that Nino and her were still together, he never partook in the “tough love” the class had been giving Marinette before she...before she had been akumatized. Sure he didn’t stop them, and that was bad, but he didn’t go out of his way to not invite her to things until she stopped being “jealous” and started acting like the bigger person. Nino wasn’t the one who ignored her text messages, which now that Alya read them, were pretty telling that her friend had been hurting and she had only made that worse.

“What are you thinking about babe?”

Alya looked up from her half eaten bowl of soup to see Nino gazing at her in concern. “Marinette.”

“Oh…” He breathed out as he put his spoon down and looked down at the table before placing one of his hands on hers and giving her a small smile. “Everything will be okay Alya. Someone will find her and then she’ll be back home.”

Empty words. Empty words fed to him too much from adults who didn’t have any updates on anything. “You don’t believe that. And even if she did...who's to say she would even want to talk to us!? What’s to say that anything would be better? We would still be seen as the bad guys! We will still all have to eat lunch at our houses or the park just to avoid the stares and the whispers and the tossed trash our way and the “accidentally” spilled drinks!”

Alya had never understood just how much their class had been living in its own little world. Not to say they were completely unattached to the rest of the school, Alix, Nathaniel, Rose, Chloe, and Sabrina were in the art club (the art teacher and the rest of the club had made a mural of Marinette without notifying them or asking for their help. Everyone is encouraged to leave notes about Marinette on the mural. The art room even has a chair decorated in honor of Marinette that no one else can use. That was announced very pointedly Alix later shared.), Rose was in the scrapbooking club (no one asked to use her materials anymore like they used to), and Max was in the gaming club which Marinette had helped him set up (people weren’t showing up lately.) They weren’t kicked out, but they were reminded of Marinette all the time,it was like everyone’s way of punishing them. It had never occurred to any of them how popular Marinette was.

So popular that the whole school seemed to hate them. Even Mlle Mendeleiev seemed to be harsher than normal and that was really saying something, it would seem like she had a soft spot for Marinette. In their class everyone avoided Marinette’s seats in class, Alya had to step up as class representative but the silver lining was that Nino had stepped up to be her deputy. Though another negative was the fact Nino had stopped making his music and taking DJ gigs. At first he hadn’t said anything to her or their friends, Alya found out because of Chris actually, but then her and Adrien confronted him and he broke down. He cried and he didn’t stop for a long time, but when he had calmed enough to talk he pulled out old pictures of him and Marinette, told them stories about how they had grown up together. It had made the pit in Alya’s stomach grow, she had just been thinking about her and how much she blamed herself and how much she missed her best friend, she hadn’t even thought how this was affecting Nino.

“I...I need to believe it Alya. I need to. Because if I don’t I will break apart. Mari...Marinette and I were best friends in l'école primaire. I never thought she would ever not be a part of my life. Then the whole Lila thing happened and I turned into a coward again, like I had with Chloe! No, worse than a coward! I don’t even know what I would call myself but I know I can’t call myself her friend.” His voice rose the more he spoke and near the end it cracked.

“Nino…”

“No. I know that’s the truth! And I know, I know that things at school have been rough. Hell, they’ve been awful, everyone sees us as these villains in some trashy young teen novel when all we’ve done is make a mistake! Yes. It was a big mistake but it was a mistake nonetheless but we’re...we’re kids dammit. We’re just kids.” Alya felt tears race down her cheeks as she saw her boyfriend break yet again, his cheeks wet with his tears, his voice choked with his guilt.

“I know. I just...I just want her back. I want everything back. I don’t know how many times we have to apologize to the school, but they’re not even the ones that need to hear the apologies! The one we need to have hear us isn’t here and…” Alya could feel herself breaking but she tried to hold on. Nino needed her to be strong. Her class needed her to be strong. Her family needed her to be strong.

“I can’t take the stares! Or, or hear Rose’s cries that she tries to hide from us. Mylene hasn’t been eating and I know she thinks we don’t notice and Adrien, god Adrien. I’m trying to hold it together because my bro is falling apart at the seams! First Marinette gets...gets fucking akumatized, then his dad and Nathalie get taken to the hospital from some supposedly random attack but it’s pretty obvious it was Mar-the akuma’s doing, his mom freaking pops out of nowhere but of course that can’t just be a good thing because everyone has to talk about how his dad and Nathalie were probably Hawkmoth and Mayura! And I’m over here trying not to think too much about all that because it makes actually too much sense, but then we find out that Marinette was most likely Ladybug! LADYBUG!” He lamented, not bothering to hide the fact he was crying, more like sobbing. It just made Alya cry more.

“I...I wanted the truth for so long, but not like this. Not like this. I...I know this makes me sound like the worst person on the planet but I kind of wish stupid Gabriel Agreste wasn’t Hawkmoth because then I could be akumatized and maybe I could be some kind of time-travelling akuma and we could go back and fix everything and school wouldn’t be hell and the twins wouldn’t act like they had to walk on eggshells around me all the time and my dad wouldn’t look like he’s always so disappointed in me and my mom wouldn’t look at my with only pity in her eyes and Nora would talk to me and Marinette would be back!” Alya sobbed out. At this point her and Nino had moved from their seats to the kitchen floor and were huddled together hugging each other for comfort.

The two just sat there soaking up whatever comfort they could and dreaded the time that passed. For each minute that passed, was a minute that brought them closer to having to go back to school. Alya didn’t know if she had the strength to go back and deal with everything, she didn’t know if Nino could handle it either, but she knew her mother would be by any minute to give them a lift back to school. If there was a way she could just finish school online, Alya was willing to do it, but her father wouldn’t ever allow it. He had put his foot down, Otis Césaire was mad, then he was disappointed and he thought it only fair that Alya face her peers and continue on at Françoise Dupont. It didn’t feel fair, it didn’t feel fair at all, it felt like punishment. Hadn’t she been punished enough? Even in sleep she wasn’t safe, all she dreamed of was Lila and her making her act like a puppet. She would see puppet her do all these things to Marinette and she would wake up in sweat and tears.

“Okay I’m here, I hope you two are ready to head ba-” Alya looked up to see her mom standing there staring at her and Nino, her mouth agape. “Oh Alya...Nino...How about I call the school and tell them you’re not feeling good? And I’ll call your parents Nino.”

Alya was going to respond, she really was, but when she opened her mouth nothing came out but a choked off cry and nod. Nino nodded as well as he took in a shaky breath. “Th-Thanks, Mme C.”

“Nino, you know I told you to call me Marlena. Now you two go rest in Alya’s room while I make those calls. Then maybe I can get the rest of the day off and-”

“No manman. Things...things are already bad enough, don’t make it worse by not going back to work. I don’t...I don’t want to be the reason why you get fired.” Alya mumbled as she and Nino got up off the floor.

“Oh...Oh my little one, that won’t happen. And if it did, not because of you. Never. Don’t you think that.” Alya’s mother breathed out as she pulled her daughter into a hug before taking her daughter’s face in her hands and doing her best to wipe her tears.

“Papa and Nora would! Nora still won’t talk to me and Papa only looks at me like he’s disappointed he ever had me!” Alya cried out before she could stop the words from coming out. Her mind completely forgot that Nino was standing right beside her until she felt him hold her hand and give it a squeeze.

“Your Papa is just being stubborn, but you listen to me, he could never ever be disappointed in having you. You are our daughter. You made a mistake yes, but I know you know you made a mistake and that you are sorry. Your Papa will realize that. He just needs time. And Nora...she just needs time too. I just think she doesn’t know how to handle everything and that she’s mad that she couldn’t protect you sweetie. She’s always been the protective older sister, and this was something she couldn’t protect you from herself. They’ll come around. I’m sure.”

“If you’re sure manman…”

“I am. Now you kids go relax. I’m going to take the rest of the day off and go to the store for dinner ingredients, I’ll be back soon. I know things are hard my little Melusine but they won’t always be like this.” With a kiss to her forehead and a swift hug to Nino, Alya’s mom left the two teens in the family apartment.

At first they just stood there in silence and sniffles, but Nino made the move to put their plates in the sink and rinse them out while Alya gathered their schoolwork back into their bookbags. Then they made their way to Alya’s room and kicked off their shoes before sitting on the bed. Nino nudged Alya who looked at him in confusion until she saw him give her a crooked smile and open his arms which she fell easily into. She took off her glasses and placed them on her bedside table while she felt more than saw Nino take off his cap. For a while they just sat there in the quiet of the moment and Alya was content to do just that, to just have a moment of peace, but she slowly pushed away and reached for her remote to turn on the TV and quickly pulled up Netflix. Her mom wanted them to relax so why not fry their brains with some television.

“Anything in particular you want to watch?” She asked as she settled back against Nino.

“As long as it has nothing to do with school or superheroes...I’m good.” Nino responded with a hollow chuckle.

“I’m glad we don’t have to go back too…” She murmured, “Should we...tell the others?”

“Probably. But if I’m being honest I don’t really feel like talking to them and them asking how we are and if we’re okay when they know we’re not. I just. I don’t think I could handle that. Not today.”

“I get it. Sometimes I feel like everyone else even blames me for what happened. Like... Like it was my responsibility to not fall for the lies and to warn them. Like my word would have made a difference! Mari...Marinette’s didn’t so why would mine?” Alya huffed as she scrolled through all the movie and show choices and tried her best not to cry again.

“If they blame you then they need to blame me too and blame the people in the mirror. We all fell for the lies. Sure you’re the budding reporter, but the blame could just as easily be pushed onto Max who is so smart he created a living AI. But we have no one to be mad at but ourselves and we can only do that for so long.” Nino sighed as he held her closer and kissed her temple. Alya relished in the warmth of it all.

“When did you get so wise?” Alya teased softly.

“When I decided to rewatch Star Wars. But no seriously. If anyone in class bothers you please tell me because we should be sticking together not at each other’s throats.” Nino stuck out one hand and Alya slid her hand into his.

“Cross my heart and hope to die. I will. And you’re right, we do need each other, especially now, especially at that school.”

“Especially at that school, yeah.” He laughed out. “We’re going to get through this. I don’t know how, but, we are and we’re going to do it together.”

Alya smiled wryly before she looked up at Nino and it slipped into a real small smile. “Together.” She agreed softly.

Last Chapter Next Chapter

l'école primaire - elementaryschool

manman - Haitian Creole for Mother

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml salt #ml salt fic #alya cesaire #marlena cesaire #etta and ella cesaire #nora cesaire #otis cesaire #nino lahiffe #djwifi #ml class salt #lila rossi salt #akuma class #revolt of the akuma #they are kids and they made a mistake #others need to recognize that as well #goggles commission

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shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

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A Wife for Thor Pt.07

11/03/2020

Waiting to Exhale

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5, 871

Warnings: smut!, SO MUCH FLUFF, smidge of angst, language, talk of pregnancy for the purpose of an heir to the throne

A/N: Y’all, I really tried to move away from the smut this chapter but THOR MAKES ME DO IT! FUCK! I want him so much. Reader is literally me. lol Anywho, I wrote the end of this chapter like half asleep, just now. And I’m too tired to even worry about going back to proof it and I wanted to share it with y’all now instead of making you wait until tomorrow so, here it is. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT REPOST my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

Kissing Thor is noisy. Mainly because he likes to really kiss you. His lips smoosh against your own until he’s delving into your mouth with his tongue. You’re so eager to reciprocate the affection that you greet him willingly. Your own tongue swirling around his own.

You’re hit with the salty tang of the olives from his sandwich, a spicy bite to the flavor from the jalapeños.

He kisses you slow, making it last minutes. He makes you dizzy and your heart seems to be perpetually pounding since last night.

The water sloshes around both your bodies as he reaches down to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you right up against him, breasts squished against his massive pecs.

He holds the side of your head, fingers strong and possessive as he tilts your head to explore you better.

When your breath is nothing but gasping, he pulls back with an audible smack. He leans in to kiss you twice more. Two quick pecks before he twists to his right and reaches for the large glass of wine he’d poured you.

Handing it to you, he fixes your hair before reaching to his left for a sandwich triangle. Roast and chicken, cheese, tomatoes, and mustard. You’re not even sure you like this food but when Thor holds the tip of the sandwich up to your lips you open up and take a bite.

Your mind is too preoccupied with the naked God before you to worry about the flavors in your mouth anymore. If it doesn’t immediately pertain to Thor, then you don’t have a mind for it right now.

He follows your bite with his own and replaces the sandwich on the tray still half full along with a bowl of olives and another of cheese cubes.

You lick your lips as you chew, watching his face for any shift that might hint at a change of mood.

Thor however hasn’t changed since this morning when you gave yourself to him completely. And he gave himself to you too.

Maybe it’s silly to think that way, that what happened between the two of you was anything more than sex, but it felt like it. Especially that first time.

He’d been so…there had been something about the look in his eyes, the way he touched you. So sweet and gentle. So loving.

Even now, his free hand finds the soft skin of your side and while you flinch at first, he knows to keep his hand there and after a moment you settle and are still again.

“Why do you pull away?” Thor had asked in the morning after that first time when he’d been laying with you, talking as his hand sought a spot on your side.

“I’m not pulling away.” You’d argued. “I’ve just never been touched there before by anyone but myself. It feels weird. Not exactly a tickling but close to it.”

Now he lets the surprise pass and caresses the spot once your body has moved on from the shock.

“You keep searching for something. What is it, cherub?” He reaches over to give your cheek a little pinch then throws his hand over the edge of the large bath you’d seen when you’d stolen a peek at his bathroom.

The water is steaming hot, such a comfort to your surprisingly sore body. You hadn’t realized how much your morning activities would stress it. What a work out!

Thor’s already frowned at the bruises he can see he’s left on you. You shut that down quickly. You liked the sex. You’re not about to give it up because he’s a little too strong.

Smart? Probably not. But you’re discovering a whole new side to yourself that you hadn’t known you could be. And the bruises are only on your hips, some on your ass.

You didn’t know that you could be desirable and seductive. Irresistible? Definitely not! But from the way Thor’s hands keep loving on your curves, you must at least be so to him, right? Even if it’s only in a physical, sexual way. It’s more than you ever thought you’d have.

“Nothing.” You swallow your food, tipping your glass against your lips to wash it down with a mouthful of wine.

Before you can say anything else, Thor mashes his lips to yours. His tongue takes a quick dip into your mouth before finishing his kiss with another peck.

“Mmm.” He hums, and you can’t help but laugh.

“What was that for?”

“You taste like raspberries.” He informs you, swiping his thumb across your lips.

“It’s the wine.”

Thor purses his lips, giving you a skeptical look as if you’re lying.

“Mmmmm, you sure?” He smiles, a big goofy grin you hadn’t seen yet.

The expression gives you such joy that you laugh, leaning against his chest as your body shakes with it.

Thor’s eyes are bright, happy, and he gladly dips his head down to kiss your lips as you pucker your lips up at him.

“Can this be real?” You wonder, staring up into his pretty face.

“Why do you think it isn’t? Shall I pinch you?” His hand tickles your side, grabbing gently.

You squirm and laugh, quickly grabbing his hand to stop his pinching.

“No!” You shake with your chuckling. “Stop.”

“I will if you tell me why you can’t believe this is reality.”

“I don’t know? Because it all feels too good to be true?” You turn around slowly, nestling into his lap, his arms wrapping themselves around you instantly as you lean back against him, resting your head against his shoulder.

He kisses your cheek, then rests his own scratchy bearded cheek against your head.

“I mean, it was three days ago that I was sitting in my house, completely alone and would have probably stayed that way until I died. I’ve never felt any kind of interest for anyone before.”

“I’m sure someone would have come along and fallen in love with you. You’re very lovable, cherub. Otherwise, how could you feel so good where I have you?”

Your cheeks are burning hot. If someone held a wick to it, it would light and burn.

You laugh nervously, not believing a single word.

“It’s true.” Thor insists, squeezing you against his body. “If I’m completely honest, no one has ever felt this good before.”

“You just need the affection.” You scoff.

“No.” Thor refuses your thinking. “I like you.”

He drops his voice to a deep whisper. As he says those three words, it becomes thick and heavy. It means a lot. To you. To him. This is a significant moment, and he makes sure to steal your breath with his massive body curling around you from behind and that deep voice that likes to nestle in between your ribs and make it hot there.

“We’ve only just started,” he observes. “Imagine how I’ll feel in a month.”

He’s absolutely wicked with his charm, and you know you’re a lost cause to it. There’s no going back from this now.

“And I did like you, too. Even when I first came to see you. I can’t deny that. I think it’s pretty clear by now, how I feel. But I had no idea that it was to this extent. I didn’t know that I’d go from virgin to what happened today in the blink of an eye.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Thor asks, no fear in his voice but you can feel a tension in his arms.

“Nope. It isn’t.” You shake your head, turning to look at him but he’s so close.

His cheeks are a flushed pink bronze. You realize he’s blushing at your confession much like his made you all flustered too. He’s hot for sure, downright breathtaking, but you had no idea he could be this adorable too. Cute? He’s almost like a puppy in this moment. Sweet and lovable.

You can’t help yourself, so you just kiss his bearded chin, and he quickly turns to meet your lips with his own.

He relaxes, the affection calming him? You’re not sure. But that’s what it feels like and it plays into your theory that he’s been needing the physical reassurance.

You reach up behind his head, fingers delving into the short and wet strands of his hair as he reaches over and forces your head to turn more so that he can kiss you with passion again.

You whimper, his touch intoxicating.

In response to your own sounds of enjoyment, Thor utters a small groan. Slowly he pushes you up, rises, and spins with you until your back is to the edge of the bathing pool. He turns you around, then with kisses to the center of your back to nudge you forward, he guides you into bending over with your chest pressed against the warm edge of the bath. He bends over you completely and pulls you into another passionate kiss, holding your face towards his by grabbing your chin.

Gently he nudges your legs open with his knee and before you can prepare yourself fully, he’s inside you, curling his hips around your bum as he plunges himself deeper.

You break the kiss to gasp with pleasure, the sensation growing on you more and more. As he cups your breasts, you lay your head down and reaching back to hook your hand around his bottom, pulling him towards you when he thrusts making him groan with excitement as he picks up the pace.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’s moaning underneath you. A dramatic, overexaggerated, completely ridiculous display meant only for you as you card your hands through his drying hair. He has his head in your lap, shirtless form with only a baggy pair of black sweats keeping his manly bits private. For you, his face is upside down. But that doesn’t make him any less handsome.

You’re sitting with your back against the headrest, chuckling at the look on his face and the stupid sounds he’s making for your benefit.

“Stop making those noises!” You laugh, “It doesn’t sound right.”

“Or does it sound just right?”

You chuckle continuously, scratching his scalp lightly and his mouth genuinely falls open.

“Oh, that feels so good.”

Silly man.

“Are we going to spend the rest of the day in bed?” You wonder, not minding the idea one bit.

He mumbles something indistinct. Maybe nonsense? You’re not sure. But you laugh again.

“What?”

“Please, don’t stop.” He begs.

You lapse into silence, letting this blissful moment stretch on until your mind starts to wander.

You’ve realized that the affection he’s after isn’t just that, but he’s also touch starved.

You are too, but that makes sense. You’ve been single your whole life.

It’s weird for him. He’s been with Jane for a while. Why does it feel like these displays of affection from you are something he’s been yearning for? Maybe not from you specifically, but the touch is welcomed. Eagerly.

“Can I ask you something?” You keep stroking his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp in small circles.

“Mmmmmmm…” He looks like he might fall asleep, his one blue eye shut.

“I know you said that you picked me because of what I told you my ideal marriage was like. Is this part of a marriage important for you? Physical affection? Is that what you liked about the description I gave you?” You reach down to stroke his cheek, loving the feel of his beard against your skin.

Thor opens his eye, staring up at you with a torn expression. What does it mean?

“I liked the image you painted of us.” He reaches up, caressing the back of your neck. “I should be more honest with you.”

Fuck. Is it bad news?

“Truth is, Jane and I haven’t really been together for about half a year. We hadn’t broken up officially or anything. And it isn’t so much that we haven’t seen each other just because we’re busy but we haven’t tried to see each other.

“If we had tried a little harder, I think we could have still kept things going for a bit longer, but…” He doesn’t finish his thought and instead leaves you to wonder if maybe Jane didn’t want to try? Or maybe he didn’t want to? Which is silly because he’s been holding out for her.

It’s what almost ruined your opinion of him.

“But you still love each other?” You’re confused, his love for her is so obvious.

“Many people who love each other drift apart. If both parties are not willing to keep the relationship going, even the strongest love can be inconsequential.”

His eye is trained on the ceiling above, a beautiful ornate wooden design carved by Asgardian artisans. He’s lost in thoughts. Depressing ones it looks like.

You don’t like the idea of him being unhappy. It stings a little on a personal level too to know that it’s because of his pining for an ex-love.

But you want him to know that you’ve heard him. You understand his feelings as best as you can.

“I’m sorry she doesn’t know what she’s losing.” You mean it too.

Jane is losing out on such a beautiful soul. Alien or not, Thor is entrancing.

You can’t picture your life without Thor now. Even if your feelings are still growing and nowhere near where his and Jane’s are for each other, the idea of never feeling his kiss again, his weight on you? It’s unbearable to think about.

He told you he likes you! That means something, right?

He’s also so sweet and funny. He really is a dream. If he hadn’t propositioned you during that first meeting of feigning your marriage, he’d be perfect. But no one can be perfect and you’re pretty sure he must have been desperate as hell at the time.

“But maybe I should write her a thank you note?” You place your hands on both sides of his face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “If she had agreed to marry you, I wouldn’t be here. And I’m so…so lucky to be here, Thor.”

You sigh heavily, having been thinking about this since your bath at noon.

“I thought I was going to be married to someone who wouldn’t care about me.” You confess. “I thought I was doomed to living a life without real feeling. But what we have…it isn’t normal, right? This kind of connection isn’t common?”

You could be wrong. This isn’t something you’re knowledgeable about. Not even a little bit.

“No. It’s not.” Thor agrees, reaching up to hook his hand around the back of your neck, a gentle squeeze to emphasize his words.

“We’re lucky, Thor.” You nod, smiling hopefully because for the first time since all of this craziness began, you can see the life you’d imagined for your ideal marriage as a true possibility.

There might be more to it. It’s not just a marriage, but a duty. You’ll be Queen and Thor is already King. There’s going to be more than days like this with him. There’ll be obligations and maybe even things that you won’t want to do.

Days like this will make it worth it.

Thor smiles at you, his body relaxed again after getting things off his chest.

“We’re lucky.” He agrees and pulls you down until he can kiss you.

Upside down, the kiss is a little strange. You huff a laugh against his lips until he reaches up to take hold of your head and tilt it to the side so that he can silence you with a deeper kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, I’m here.” Thor announces, strutting into his war room on the second floor.

It’s a simple room, large as it is. Round like his bedroom, with no windows. There’s a doorway to the right on the far end that leads to a small tower hidden among the various roofs of the palace. That’s his strategic viewpoint. That’s where he can see invaders if invaders are stupid enough to try and come here.

“You’re late.” Loki says, off-hand, not paying attention. He's focused on what’s before him. Busy.

There’s no urgency in his voice so Thor stops just inside the door, hands finding his hips as he stands there staring at his brother.

The silence is almost endless until Loki looks up and does a double take at the sight of Thor standing there wearing a pair of baggy black sweats and a ratty old gray shirt. It’s clean. Just full of frays and tears.

“I see we’ve completely given up.” Loki observes. “One day with your fiancé and you think you can relax and walk around looking like an Earth frat boy?”

“How do you know what a frat boy is?”

“I’ve been on Earth longer than you have I think.” Loki scoffs. “I had to scope out the planet before I tried to take it over, remember?”

“That’s not something I would go around bragging about, brother. The people of Earth might not realize you’ve changed.” Thor finally moves in further, sitting himself down on the large throne-like seat at the head of a very large round table that doubles as a battle map.

This is what Loki had been focused on.

As he sits back, relaxing in his comfy chair, he sighs heavily. Happily. Hands resting on his stomach as he stares at the table, zoning out with thoughts of the copious amount of times he’d made love to you today.

Loki’s continued silence begins to draw his attention and he turns to look at him only to find him with narrowed and suspicious eyes.

“What did you do?” Loki demands, “Why do you look so pleased with yourself?”

“Hm? Nothing. I did nothing.” Thor assures him, sitting up a little straighter and clearing his throat.

Loki knows him too well. The way Thor spreads his legs, wide apart as he claims the room as his own with his mere presence. There are only two reasons his brother takes that posture.

“I know you, Thor. You’ve either defeated an enemy in battle within the last few hours of the day—which is clearly impossible since you’ve been holed up in your bedroom this entire time. Or you’ve gone and bedded some woman until you’re entirely spent.”

Thor clears his throat, avoiding his brother’s eyes.

“Thor,” He already sounds upset. “I thought you were going to wait until you were married to her?”

His demanding tone, the upset brings a sense of slight shame to Thor’s beautiful memories of the day.

Quickly he wipes that away. It was a day well spent, growing closer to you and forming a bond that will help you both in your marriage.

“We were supposed to!” Thor argues.

“How could you bed her two days before the wedding?”

“She asked me to!” Thor counters, getting to his feet as he gestures towards the door with both hands flat, palms up.

“As if I’d believe that.” Loki frowns.

“She did! I swear to you, I tried to refuse her.”

“Not very hard, I imagine.” Loki scoffs.

“Loki, the last thing that I want to do is take advantage of Y/N. She’s honest and true. She doesn’t play games and she’s up front about what she wants. She told me that she wanted to be with me because she felt it was right, not because she was required to in order to consummate our marriage.

“And honestly, I’m glad that we did it. Not only do I know now that she and I are compatible in that way, but it meant more for her to do so willingly. I wasn’t exactly eager to bed her knowing that she was only doing it because it was something she was obligated to do either. We were both of one mind on that front.”

Loki’s eyes are sharp, trained on Thor as he explains himself and crosses the room to a small table against the right curved wall to pour himself a glass of ale. He’s able to see that Thor is not lying. Everything he just said is the truth. And while he worries about you and Thor too, he can see that this is probably for the best.

He thinks about it as Thor drinks, then accepts this new phase of your courtship.

“Well, I suppose it’s never too early to start working for that heir.”

Thor sputters on his drink, coughing and gasping.

He thumps his chest, turning to Loki as he zones out again with thoughts of the copious amount of times he’d made love to you today, and each and every time he released within you.

True, you and he would have had to start on an heir quickly. It’s what the people want, as well as the Ambassadors for Earth. They want tangible ties to the human race.

Still, Thor’s heart begins to pound at the idea of your belly swelling with his babe.

It’s not an unpleasant thought. In fact, the more he pictures it, the more he likes it.

Because he’s an idiot, he tries to picture Jane like that too.

They’d never even discussed children.

Jane had been focused on her work and Thor had been too happy to step aside and wait for her to be ready.

He finds he can’t picture Jane the way he can picture you, sweet smile caressing your belly as you look up to meet his eye. Smile widening before you reach out towards him, “Come feel, he’s kicking.”

His imagination is surprisingly vivid and his heart swells.

“A head start on siring an heir isn’t a bad idea. You should spend tomorrow doing the same.” Loki suggests.

Thor reaches up to rub along his chest, right over his heart as that feeling of fullness keeps growing.

“Aye,” Thor agrees, but his words are a whisper to himself. “I think I just might.”

“What?” Loki asks, Thor too quiet for him to hear.

“Nothing. What was the threat you wanted to speak of?” Thor moves back to his seat, but rather than take it, he stands, staring at the simple map of Earth.

Loki isn’t looking at the map, however. He’s got what looks like a silver bowl on top of it, a glistening silver liquid within.

“A window.” Thor realizes.

“Just a small one.” Loki nods, staring intently at the serene liquid.

“What do you see?”

Thor only sees the silver liquid.

“Stirrings. They’re quiet, and only shadows for the time being. I sense Jotunheim.” Loki murmurs darkly.

“Laufey?” The worry is heavy on his mind now, nothing but this threat matters to Thor. In this moment, he’s got one thing on his mind.

“Perhaps.” Loki nods.

“But you killed him. Didn’t you? You saved father and mother. Another trick, brother?” Thor spits, almost angry. Mostly just suspicious.

“No.” Loki insists, giving his brother a frown. “Not on my side. I thought he was dead. I’m not sure if it’s him but it feels like Laufey.”

“What does this mean?”

“I’m not sure yet, Thor. As I said, it’s only a stirring. I’ll have to keep watch.”

“Have you shared this with the guard? Brunnhilde? Sif?” Thor asks.

“Yes.” Loki nods, waving his hand over the silver. “Sif has gone to hurry the Warrior’s Three back in case something should come before the wedding. Don’t worry, brother. As soon as I have more information, I will come to you.”

With a heavy sigh, Thor crosses his bulging arms over his hardened chest. Now his mind is preoccupied. Worries begin to grow. The safety of his people first and foremost.

They don’t have the armor or weapons to defend the city much less the surrounding human cities in the area. If the Jotunn should rise again, their wrath would not stop with New Asgard.

“Thor?”

“Hm?” He’s still mostly distracted, out of it as his mind races to plan ahead for all contingencies.

“Don’t you have a pretty future Queen of Asgard waiting in your bedroom? Did you not have something to do?”

Thor’s gaze eventually wanders over to Loki. He understands he should say something, so he nods. “Right, of course. Right. Keep me posted.”

He walks around him, through the door and back up to his floor. At the end of the hall he sees the light seeping through the bottom of the door. The warm glow of the lit fire.

Moving towards it, he doesn’t see it or the comforts it promises. He can only see the thousands of faces of his people, looking to him for guidance and reassurance. Their safety is in his hands. He can fight for days, weeks without stopping if he has to in order to protect those under his care, but he’s one man. How will he protect them all?

He can’t be there to block every blow.

The weight of his crown is heavy, feet falling heavy against the wooden floor.

A fear begins to bubble up in his chest, shifting and squirming, making him feel sick to his stomach. His hand shakes as he reaches out to take hold of the handle to his door. As he takes it, he squeezes harder than he means to and the metal groans beneath his grip.

When he pushes the door open, a wave of warmth washes over him, pulling him out of the grip of the cool hallway air.

He hears a groan from his desk chair.

Searching for it, he spots you sitting with your back twisted as you hold to the arm, turning to face him.

It’s the sight of you that clears his head and steadies his heart.

Sitting there with in his pink sweater again, this time a pair of thick wool socks on your feet. One is scrunched around your ankles, the other holding firm to your lovely, well explored calf.

You take his breath away as you smile at him, your eyes searching his face. Your pretty smile falters, a scrunch between your eyes as notice his distress.

“Is everything okay?” You ask him, the laptop behind you abandoned mid-sentence on whatever work you’re writing.

He stops by the door. It shuts behind him. You stand up and Thor’s mind is bathed with the delicious image of you again, belly swollen with his child.

This time you’re not smiling and beckoning him for a feel of a kick. Instead, you’re standing before him, your hands resting against that belly, your face twisted in honest concern.

This time he doesn’t have to imagine what you would say because you open your mouth now and say, “C-Can I help? Thor? What can I do?”

Nothing.

You can do absolutely nothing if a Jotunn army comes to freeze the Earth over. Their cradle is gone but their power comes from magic. Magic in their blood. And they’re strong enough to do damage without the cradle.

So, even though you ask, and he knows that the answer is nothing, just the fact that you ask. That adorable little crinkle between your eyes.

His mind returns and in three long strides he’s got you up in his arms. He kisses you hard, overcome with gratitude and that image in his head of you pregnant both smiling and worried. It’s too much for him and how can he show you how much your offer means to him?

How can he show you that your own strife over his feelings for Jane is unnecessary?

The only way he can think of in this moment is without words. With his hands and his lips and his body.

“Mm.” You mumble, resisting. You push yourself back a bit and Thor lets you get away but keeps you held against his body; your legs wrapped around his waist. “Thor, what’s wrong?”

Your hands are so gentle against his cheeks, caressing his beard, stroking it as if the feel of it brings you pleasure.

He pushes forward, past your little grip and buries his face against the side of your neck.

You smell like rosewater. And something else. Something just you. You’ve taken another bath in his absence. He can’t blame you after all of the loving he’s given you today.

Without another query you wrap your arms around his shoulders, one hand making soothing circles between his shoulder blades, the other on the back of his head in a supportive caress.

Thor is absolutely melting from all this affection you’re giving him.

How had he survived without it?

How had he gone so hard for so long and only now realized that he’d been waiting to exhale.

Here in your arms, he can breathe finally. Even though the weight of Asgard is on his shoulders, and the weight of the Earth and the nine realms too, with you here holding him up he can take solace for a bit.

He carries you back to the bed, sits on the edge, and you readjust your legs so that you can keep them on either side of him but hold yourself up a bit more steadily. Thor loves the way you seem to flow with his movements. You respond and he adjusts for you too.

After what feels like an hour, he pulls back to look up at your beautiful face.

“Where have you been all of my life?” He whispers, voice choked from the breath he’d finally breathed.

“I’m here now.” You nod, “And I won’t go anywhere unless you want me to.”

Thor scoffs at the idea, such a completely stupid and ridiculous thought for you to have because he cannot possibly exist without you in his life now.

He realizes it now more than before. The sex had been fantastic. Much needed. The intimacy welcomed and yearned for, though not exactly from you until you gave it and he realized that it was exactly your type of intimacy he’d been looking for.

There’s something more to what you can give him. More to what you’re already providing him with.

To his great pleasure, and he hopes to yours too, there’s one more thing he needs from you. Something that he hopes you’re willing to give.

“Let’s make a babe.” He says, and he can see your breath hitch.

The way he can see your mind go blank and fuzzy and then try to process what he’s just said is endearing. You’re always so shocked by his displays of attachment.

He can’t exactly blame you. It’s only been three days. Still, he’s felt more in these three days than he has over years with anyone else.

This feels so close to love, he’s almost certain that for him it already is. But he’ll hold off telling you until he’s completely sure. He meant what he told Hilde and Loki. He doesn’t want to hurt you.

Not ever.

“Wh-what?” You finally stutter, your lips shaking as you speak.

He smiles, reaches up to trace your bottom one with his thumb and they part for him, a response no doubt curated by the many situations he’s placed you in today. Every touch had been a request to come closer and every time you’d opened up for him.

“We’ll have to have one eventually. Soon, too. The Ambassadors will want a human Asgardian heir as soon as possible to make sure that I’ll have a reason to protect the human species as much as my own.

“But mostly I really just want to see you heavy with my child, cherub. We’ll make many little angels together. Sooner, rather than later.” Thor hooks his hand behind your neck, giving it a squeeze as he pulls you towards his lips.

You pucker up instantly the closer you get, your eyes peeled however, trained on his own electric blue as if you’re waiting for him to say it’s a joke.

He gives you a peck, just reassurance for you.

“You do?” You breathe, airy and short.

“I do. Let me make you a true mother of Asgard.” He whispers, and he can see your skin pimple. He reaches down to run his hand up along your arm, only making the goosebumps more pronounced as he tries to soothe them.

Thor can see you struggling to find the words. It doesn’t look like a negative thing.

He brings his hands down to our thighs, running them up to push the sweater you’re wearing up a bit until his fingers find the crease of your bent legs just below your hips. He tickles you there and you squirm, accidentally rubbing up against him just right.

“Let me fill you up, my sweet, sweet cherub.” He gushes, hoping it’s not coercion he’s inflicting and hopefully just reassurance. “I want you to the be the mother of my children. Only you.”

And then you pounce.

Thor is taken aback by the weight you throw on him, the flurry to get his pants down and his shirt yanked up over his head. He traces your sides, fingers dragging across your skin slowly which only seems to drive you crazier.

You kiss him hard at first, then after a minute, it softens.

You pull back to look down at him and Thor tries to read that look in your eyes. He tries to understand the resolve there, the grit he can see.

Then you’re kissing him again, these electric fire kisses that seem to make the world around him blur until all he can see, feel, hear, or care about is you and your body and pulling those little chuckles from you in the middle of your romp because the way your voice suddenly shifts into a moan from the happy sound drives him wild and all he wants to do is make you call his name.

What is this intoxication he has with you? That apple taste of you, so much like ale, draws him in and there’s no escaping you now. You’re his, and he can see in your eyes that he is truly yours.

Willingly he gives himself up to you. All thoughts of Jane driven from his mind because how can anyone compare to this draw of you? This perfection?

“Oh, Thor…” You whimper, his hands pulling you slowly against his hips as he pushes himself up with his other arm.

He hits you deep, stretching you wide as he stuffs you with his cock. Your hand is tight around his shoulder, nails digging hard as you bite your lip and muffle your moan.

“No…” He pulls you to him, sitting up then standing up and taking you with him. He turns around then with you falls to the bed. “…no. Let me hear you. I wanna hear you.”

He thrusts in deeper and you cry out loud, legs wrapping around his waist to yank him closer.

“Like that.” Thor whispers, approving of the sound you just made.

He thrusts again and it’s breathier, but still a cry and anyone in the palace will know that he’s made you his, body and soon soul too.

Will he ever tire of your body? Will he ever tire of these sighs and moans?

He doesn’t even need to ask because he knows.

Never.

#king!thor x reader #a wife for thor #arranged marriage au #royal au #thor x rader #thor x you #thor x reader fic #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fanfiction #thor odinson x reader #thor odinson x reader fic #thor odinson x reader fanfic #thor odinson x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fic #a wife for thor pt07 #marvel au #marvel fanfiction

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charming-charlie · 4 years ago

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Washed Away pt. 5

Title // Washed Away pt. 5

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Mentions of death and a missing kid.

Summary // Who knew hanging out with Buck and Christopher for a day would lead to a life or death situation?

Word Count // 2.5k

Prompt // Hi! Can i request a fic where you were with Buck & Christopher when the tsunami hit? They could be dating or crushing on each other. If nothing comes to mind, then it’s completely fine to ignore this request! Have a nice day!’

Author’s Note // This is the final part of the Washed Away series. || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Tagged List // @aprildecker-blog @coffeewithoutcaffeine @daddysfavoritesexkitten @chenfordlove @comeasyoudar @carnationworld @averyhotchner @evanbuckos

The sun had set. The day was over, but that doesn’t mean the situation is. You and Buck had been wading through the water for hours, heading to the last place someone said they saw Christopher.

Exhaustion was starting to settle in. You were sore all over too. It felt like you just finished running up and down a flight of stairs non-stop while carrying a bookbag full of weights. Your shoulders hurt, your legs felt like they were going to give out any time soon, and your body was so dehydrated from soaking up and drinking in a lot of saltwater that you pretty much felt delirious.

Finally, civilization was within reach.

A makeshift help spot was set up near the bakery where you and Buck were headed. Water bottles were being passed out and you reached out to grab one. How could something so common look so precious, like it was made of gold?

You twisted off the cap and downed half of it in three big gulps and handed the rest of it to Buck. He finished off the water, nearly gasping for breath by the end. He was exhausted too. You didn’t even know how long you two were walking and the little help was most appreciated.

The people around you looked worse for wear. You couldn’t imagine the struggles they went through to try and save themselves or what their story could be. You were sure it was similar. Everyone lost someone or something in the tsunami and you knew it was going to be hard to get over that.

Then again, did you really want to?

The whole event gave you a new outlook on life and appreciate what you have. You didn’t appreciate your job enough, but you were grateful now. You were a school nurse and you realized you love those kids that you looked after. You loved Christopher, having seen him and checked on him many times thanks to his worrisome father, and it would break your heart to never see that little boy again.

Now is not the time to think about those things. You didn’t know for sure. Let’s not focus on the what ifs.

For a moment, Buck swore he saw Christopher. He saw a little boy clinging to the leg of some woman, and he let out a relieved sigh, only for his eyes to play tricks on him. It wasn’t Christopher at all.

“Mister, are you okay? You’re bleeding,” a nearby passerby said, and Buck glanced down at his hand.

Sure enough, he was.

There was a cut of some kind, and the two of you didn’t even realize it. You frowned, mentally kicking yourself and cursing yourself out for not realizing Buck’s injury. The ex-firefighter sat down, looking worse for wear and you grabbed his hand carefully while examining it.

You ripped off a strip of your shirt to use as a bandage and Buck’s eyes sort of glazed over. Due to his adrenaline, he probably wasn’t feeling any pain.

“What am I gonna do?” Buck whispered as you tended to him, “how am I gonna tell Eddie?”

You said nothing, because you knew whatever you did say wouldn’t exactly be helpful. However, you were there. Side by side, you were there with Buck and Christopher today and everything Buck did was for that little boy. You never seen someone care so much the way Buck does. He has such a good heart and for once, you were hoping against hope that things would work out in his favor. He didn’t deserve this.

After a bit of a break, including some water to get both of your heads on straight, you two were back to the grind. This time, you didn’t have to walk for long.

There was an old mall or hospital, you couldn’t be sure, that somehow turned into a makeshift triage center not too far from where you and Buck were. The two of you practically dashed over to the building and its tents, being careful since there wasn’t a lot of strength left between you.

Buck was looking in the beds, glancing around for anyone that even remotely passed Christopher. You hijacked a few clipboards, searching for Christopher’s name anywhere you can but you both came up empty.

“Eddie dropped Christopher off with me,” Buck began talking to you and you could hear the defeat in his voice. It sounded like he was fighting the feeling of giving up, but he was on the cusp. “He thought it would get me out of my apartment and… out of my head. And you know what I did? I brought him to the pier. I had him, I kept him safe. And then the three of us were on top of the ladder truck and the water receded, and for a moment I felt like I got this. I had you, I had Christopher, and we would be fine. And now Christopher is gone. We checked everywhere. And now I realize I failed. I’m a failure no matter how you look at it.”

You could hear your heart cracking as you listened to him, and you knew nothing you said would change his mind. He was beating himself up over this situation. He did everything he could, and he was still handed the short end of the stick.

Finding Christopher at the makeshift hospital was the last bit of hope he had and now it was gone. You could see the defeat that wavered in his voice and how it hid behind his eyes.

And if that didn’t help the situation, there was Eddie Diaz, tending to a few patients himself. He wore blue latex gloves, had the navy fire uniform on, and was directing a few people into the hospital. Buck nearly choked back a sob as the realization of what to do next was hitting him faster than a wall of bricks.

He had to tell Eddie, and you were going to be right by his side when he did.

However, Buck dashed behind a white tent, pulling you along with him. Turns out he wanted to hide instead of face Christopher’s father.

“Buck,” you said slowly. Your voice was hoarse from lack of water and from shouting Christopher’s name all afternoon with Buck. You felt like your vocal cords were ripped to shreds at this point, but you soldiered on. Now was not the time to accept defeat. “You have to tell him.”

“How?” Buck answered as he looked at you. His hand slowly slipped into your own, and you squeezed his fingers tightly. “How do you tell your best friend that you lost his son?”

“He’s his father. You have to tell him that Christopher is missing,” you said, knowing this was the only chance he had right now.

Buck shook his head, not wanting to hear it. “No, I need to keep looking for him. I need to find him.”

One of your hands instinctively went up to the side of Buck’s face, caressing him lightly. You still couldn’t believe the man in front of you wasn’t giving up just yet, even though maybe he should. You hated the train of thought you were currently on, but Buck was exhausted, and he lost some blood. Plus, it didn’t help that he was severely dehydrated, much like yourself. The two of you were in no condition to continue searching. You probably wouldn’t make it if you tried. You both needed to rest up and regain your strength.

“Buck,” you heard the voice before you saw who it belonged to and your head whipped around to see Eddie. The man was heading outside to continue helping and he looked a bit surprised to see his best friend standing there. Then his eyes fell on you, and the look of surprise seemed to double. “Nurse Y/N, what are you both doing here? Are you okay? Wait, where’s Christopher?”

There was no time to prepare a giant speech. Eddie Diaz was right there in front of you both, and it was now or never. You let go of Buck as you turned to face the father of one of your favorite patients, ready for what was about to happen. This was a conversation you were dreading, and you couldn’t imagine the internal conflicts Buck must be going through as he mustered up the courage to say what happened.

“Eddie…” Buck interjected in between Eddie’s many questions, and the army vet stopped talking.

For a moment, the two best friends stared at each other, like Buck was hoping Eddie would get the hint without saying anything, but you knew that would be the cowardly way out. If there was one thing you learned today, it was that Buck was not a coward. Not now, not ever.

“Me and Christopher… we were at the beach, and I swear to you…” Buck was choking on his words and you squeezed his hand again for support.

Eddie was nodding, trying to understand, but the look on his face was heartbreaking. It was like if he didn’t hear it, it wouldn’t be true.

“I tried… and I just… but I… Eddie, I just don’t know how to say it. Um, he… he um…” Buck couldn’t get through it. He was stumbling over the words and Eddie’s eyes were brimming with the threat of tears as Buck tried to get the words out.

What made it even worse was that Eddie couldn’t even look at Buck. The army vet was looking behind his best friend, like he needed to avoid eye contact with what Buck was saying.

“Christopher?” Eddie questioned softly, like he needed clearance on what Buck was saying, but your gaze followed Eddie’s. A woman had stepped off a truck, carrying a small child. Your heart almost stopped, and you pulled on Buck’s arm to get him to stop talking.

Eddie slowly walked past you and Buck, and he approached the woman. Slowly, Buck turned around to follow Eddie feeling like this was Eddie’s way of coping with denial.

“Christopher?” Eddie called again, and like music to your ears, you heard the little boy shout for his dad.

The woman was carrying Christopher the entire time, bringing him to safety. Tears exploding out of your eyes once you realized what was going on and you stole a glance at Buck. Buck looked elated, like he was about to cry from relief as well. Christopher was alive and in Eddie’s arms, and there was no greater feeling than that.

“Buck, what happened to you?”

Suddenly, the fire crew of Station 118 popped into view. You didn’t know them personally, but you could venture a guess who from all the stories Christopher was told you during his visits to your little office at the school.

Captain Bobby Nash stood in front of the two of you, and he looked deeply concerned. He looked back and forth from you to Buck before asking, “Are you two okay?”

However, your exhaustion was caving in, along with Buck’s. The two of you practically collapsed to the floor and the fire family scrambled to hold onto both of you. That was the last thing you remembered, passing out next to Buck in the arms of his old crew.

It took a while, but the city was in clean up mode. You and Buck had a nice, extended stay at the hospital, hooked up to fluids and oxygen before given a clean bill of health. You were discharged first, since Buck had some lacerations that needed stitching up but the two of you texted nonstop while he regained his strength.

You went back to your job as the nurse at the elementary school, although you also became sort of a guidance counselor to the kids. Turns out, when you were checking for lice or fevers, they needed someone to talk to and you could just relate to them in a way. You were a familiar face in all the chaos, someone they needed to hold onto in order to make sense of things.

Christopher’s appointments never stopped either. In fact, they seemed to be increasing, only because Christopher wanted to talk to you and hang out with you.

“Honestly Eddie, he’s doing fine,” you spoke to Eddie on the phone about his son. You were sitting at your desk, making your daily calls to parents and Eddie Diaz was no stranger to the phone calls. “He’s in good spirits. Nothing is wrong with him, he’s pretty perfect.”

“You know, I never got to thank you,” Eddie’s voice crackled in your ear, “for what you did. Christopher told me how you and Buck saved him, and you have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

The two of you hung up, although there was promises of talking tomorrow. Talking to Eddie was a recurring thing in your life at this point, and you could use the stability.

“Knock knock,” a head peeked into your office, “these came for you.”

The secretary opened your door and placed a bouquet of colorful roses on you desk. There was a white card attached, looking strikingly clean in the middle of the rainbow of flowers.

You pulled off the card and it only said two words.

Come Outside.

Curiously, you stood up and grabbed your stethoscope, draping it around your neck. You never went anywhere without it now, and you weren’t sure what kind of situation you were getting yourself into. You rounded a corner and pushed open the heavy steel door that led to the front of the school. There, standing in all his glory, was Evan Buckley with the most beautiful smile you had ever seen.

“Thank you very much for the flowers,” you said as you smiled at him in return. “Why didn’t you tell me you were out of the hospital. I would’ve sent you some breakfast or something.”

“That’s part of the surprise. So, surprise!” Buck said happily as he approached you.

You just smiled at him, letting his arms snake around your waist as he hugged you tightly. Your arms draped around his neck and it felt so good. It felt familiar.

As you pulled away, you were greeted with something else. Buck, with no hesitation whatsoever, leaned in and captured your lips in a sudden and welcomed kiss. It was all you wanted, all you were waiting for, and you let yourself melt into his arms as he kissed you with such force and determination, you knew you would be a puddle of goo by the end of it.

“Let me take you out on a date,” Buck whispered against your lips, his lips brushing over yours with each and every word, “a real one this time. Just me and you.”

Your heart felt like it would leap out of your chest and you couldn’t manage to bring any words out. Instead, you nodded as you leaned in to kiss him again.

This was all you wanted. You’ve never been happier. You finally had the moment you wanted with Buck and now, a date on the horizon. With your luck, it would be the first of many, you were sure of it. There was no way you were going to let this man go, ever.

#Buck #evan buckley #buck x reader #buck x you #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x you #oliver stark #9-1-1 #9-1-1 on fox #9-1-1 fic

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bxngchxn · 4 years ago

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mutual || h. hyunjin

this is a fic that I have re-uploaded from my old blog, @ethereal-bang . I’ll be reuploading all of my old works here and deleting my old blog soon. hope you enjoy!

request: “maybe some hyunjin + mutual masturbation? bonus points if they’re ‘just friends’”

characters: hyunjin x female reader

wc: 2.4k

genre: smut

warnings: mutual masturbation, dirty talk, slight dom themes

This is intended for mature audiences. Do not read if you are under the age of 18

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　

Okay, this was probably the stupidest decision you had made in awhile. Or rather, the stupidest decision Hyunjin had made that you agreed to. You knew the moment your best friend invited himself over to your apartment for a “movie night”, that there was something going on.

Hyunjin: hey are u busy

You: I mean, not really ? It’s 9pm jinnie

Hyunjin: right ok cool I’m coming over

You: Wait, what? Why?

Hyunjin: you’ll see, be there in five

Your eyes bulge out of your head at his boldness. Regardless, you made sure your apartment was visitor friendly, even though you knew he wouldn’t care. Hyunjin has been your best friend since junior year of high school. Now into your second year of college, the two of you have been through pretty much everything.

True to his word, five minutes later Hyunjin walked into your apartment and dramatically flopped onto your couch. You watched him while you walked into the living room, the blonde haired boy making himself comfortable before turning to you.

“Okay, so why do I have the pleasure of being graced with your presence at this time of night?” You asked, taking a seat next to him. He looked at you weirdly, he was hiding something.

“Look. Just hear me out,” he starts, and alarms immediately go off in your head. “Hwang Hyunjin what did you do?” You ask him, eyes narrowing. Sticking his hands out defensively, he sits up right on the couch. “I didn’t do anything !! I just… so the boys and I were talking about movies today, yeah?” He started. Unsure of where this was going, and why you were involved, you nod your head slowly.

“And there’s this movie, called 365 Days? Have you heard of it?” He asks cautiously.

Yeah, you had heard of it. It was the biggest trend going around right now. Some movie about a guy that meets a woman, kidnaps her and wants her to fall in love with him within a year, and if not she gets to leave. Everything you’ve heard about it has been a mix of cringe and intrigue. The movie is extremely dirty, you’ve heard.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.” You say nonchalantly, waiting to see where the conversation takes you. “Ah, well, uh.. Ha-have you seen it?” He looks too embarrassed to look you in the eye. “No, I haven’t, Hyunjin. What does any of this have to do with me?” You question. Hyunjin shifts around in his spot on the couch. “Well, the boys..the b-boys dared me to watch it and I don’t want to watch it alone! Will you please watch it with me? Please?” He says quickly. Your eyes widen, not able to believe that this was the reason he was in your living room.

“Wouldn’t it be weird?!”

“No! Y/N we’ve been friends for so long and it’s not like we’re not comfortable with each other!!” He reasons. “Hyunjin, it’s basically porn!” You laugh, unsure how to correctly convey your emotions. “Look, let’s watch like half of it. You know I can’t back down on a dare, Y/N please,” he begs. You weighed the options. Would it be weird? Maybe a little, but he’s right. You’re comfortable with him. What could go wrong, right? It’s just a movie.

Sighing, you see his face light up in victory. “Fine,” you say and grab the remote, searching for the movie.

Oh boy, were you wrong.

This movie was way more sexual than you had originally thought. Yeah, you had heard the rumors about the infamous Boat Scene, where the main character finally gives in to her male kidnapper and they spend what seems like the entire day absolutely railing each other, but you didn’t think it would be this…graphic.

You were basically sitting on your couch watching softcore porn with your best friend. If someone had told you that this was how you would be spending your night, you’d laugh in their face. But here you are, sitting five feet apart from Hyunjin on the couch, both of you too afraid to make eye contact with each other as the two main characters have yet another round, this time on the front deck of the boat.

You were definitely hot and bothered at this point, how could you not be? You tried to be subtle, shifting back and forth on the couch to try and relieve some of the pressure you were feeling between your thighs. You couldn’t wait for Hyunjin to get out of here so you could take care of it yourself, his presence not helping you in the slightest.

Hyunjin is hot, everyone knows it. His long hair dyed a platinum blonde and always kept in a ponytail, except for tonight he decided to let it hang down around him. You tried taking a glance at him, afraid he’d catch you staring and make the atmosphere even more awkward than it already was.

Hyunjin was having a hard time. Figuratively and literally. He had no clue this movie would be like this!! He heard the rumors just like you had, but he figured that everyone was over exaggerating, wanting to seem cool for watching a “raunchy movie”, but no, they were all spot on. And to make matters worse, he was watching it with you. He had no idea why he decided this would be a good idea. Maybe get some laughs at how terrible the movie is, and then turn it off and order takeout or something? He’s really not sure. But now all he’s thinking about is the fact that there is porn playing on your tv, and your shifting back and forth has not gone unnoticed by him.

Would it really be bad if he…initiated something? It was getting hard to control himself, he could feel his resolve slipping. He knows the movie is doing something to you too, it’s too obvious. Maybe acknowledging it will make the situation less awkward.

Well, you never know till you find out.

Hyunjin can feel his heart beating fast in his chest as he takes a side glance at you. Your eyes are still glued to the screen, most likely due to embarrassment, but partially out of lust. He can see your pupils get larger slightly as you watch the scenes unfolding on tv. You shift your weight once more, and Hyunjin takes a deep breath as he turns to actually face you.

You feel Hyunjin look at you, and you immediately feel embarrassed when you meet his eyes.

Hyunjin almost backs out, but opts to look back at the tv because he cannot make eye contact with you right now. “Well, this movie is…something..” he says quietly, and your face heats up. “Yeah…sure is,” you trail off quietly, unsure what to say. How could he be having a conversation with you right now?

“Look…now just hear me out,” He starts. Those words got you into this predicament, you can only imagine where they’ll take you now. You can still hear the characters moaning on the screen, and you try to block them out and pay attention to Hyunjin.

“We’re both sitting here incredibly turned on, am I wrong?” He starts. You go wide eyed, and the blush already on your cheeks darkens as you realize you weren’t being as discreet as you thought you were. “All I’m saying is, why don’t we…help each other out? I guess?” He says quickly, trying to make it sound like a stupid suggestion. You could clearly see his hard on through his sweat pants, and you thought about it.

“Have you heard of mutual masturbation?” you ask him. Hyunjin almost chokes at hearing those words even leave your mouth. He thought you were going to yell at him, push him out of your apartment and never want to speak to him again. You surprised yourself by being so forward, but it’s Hyunjin. It wouldn’t hurt.

“I..yeah, I have. Do..do you want to?” He asks, finally looking you in the eyes. Your gaze meets his, and the lust is evident in his eyes as he tries to discreetly check you out. This would change your friendship in a way that you would’ve never expected it to, but you don’t feel worried at all.

“You’re not gonna be weird about it afterwards, right? I mean, it’s not a big deal right?” You ask, and he shakes his head. “No! Not a big deal at all, as long as you’re not going to be w- oh, okay” he says, cutting himself off because you’ve now angled yourself in the corner of the couch to face him, your hands already ghosting the edge of your sleep shorts. You giggle as Hyunjin moves to do the same, and the sound is music to his ears.

Hyunjin sweeps his eyes over your form, and feels something spark in him. You look so small all the way over there, the giant tshirt you had on was not doing anything to help the sight. Hyunjin was starting to have ideas, and he decides that he wants to test the waters.

Before he can even get to it though, you let out a little sigh as your fingers tease yourself over your underwear. “H-hyunjin.. Can you like, say something? Maybe?” You ask timidly. You can see the mood shift in his eyes as he smirks.

“Oh, you want me to talk dirty to you, huh?” He chuckles, and with the way your chest hitches, he knows he’s headed in the right direction. You blush and nod your head, embarrassed to say anything else.

Hyunjin is palming himself over his sweatpants, trying to keep pace with you. He watches as you relax into your own touch, and decides that he doesn’t want to hold back anymore.

Sliding his hands into his boxers, he sighs in relief at finally feeling something. “Do you feel good baby? Talk to me,” he tells you, and for some reason the new pet name sets you on fire. Following his lead you finally move your fingers past your panties, dragging circles along your clit and letting a soft moan slip past your lips. “Yes, God, so good” you moan. You look up at him and the feeling is magnified.

His sweatpants have fallen a little low on his hips, and the sight of his hips and the muscles under his tshirt has you wanting to see more. Hyunjin notices you eyeing him, and decides to take his shirt off, throwing it on the floor next to the couch. He’s absolutely gorgeous, muscles flexing as he works himself up.

“Now don’t let me be the only one getting naked baby, let me really see you,” he says, and the tone is just between demanding and almost condescending. This new side to Hyunjin instantly makes you want to give in, and you’d do whatever he asked you to as long as you got to look at him like this.

You watch his eyes go wide when you take your shirt off, and you had almost forgotten that you weren’t even in your bra. Chest completely bare in front of him, he doesn’t take his eyes off you for a second as he slides his sweatpants down farther. You now have a perfect view of his cock, long and hard in his hand. This was one of the most beautiful sights you had ever seen.

“Jesus fuck-” Hyunjin groans, his hand moving faster on his cock. You match his movements, getting yourself worked up. At this point you take your shorts off as well, the two of you completely naked, on opposite sides of the couch.

“You can take a few fingers for me, right doll? Show me what you do when no one’s around,” He says, fucking up into his hand. You bring your hand up to your mouth and slide your fingers in, putting on a show for him. His eyes never leave your face, and you’re glad he’s as affected by this as you are.

You insert one finger into your core and your back arches, finally getting a taste of what you’ve been wanting so badly. Its nowhere near enough, you decide, and insert another finger. Hyunjin thinks that you look so, so pretty like this. He could sit for hours and just watch you, wouldn’t even need to touch you and he would be okay.

Getting lost in your own pleasure, you let your thoughts travel to the boy on the couch across from you. You still couldn’t believe this was happening. All of the times you’ve ever gotten off to the thought of your best friend flash behind your eyelids, and it only brings you closer to the edge.

Hyunjin is almost there, too, and wants to make sure you cum before him, or at least at the same time as him. “F-fuck Y/N I’m so close. You can go a little faster for me, right baby? Make yourself feel good for me,” he says, and the request has you keening. “H-Hyunjin,” you moan out, letting the feeling completely take over as your reach down to rub circles on your clit, your orgasm approaching quickly.

“Just like that baby, maybe next time I’ll let you cum on my fingers instead,” he says, voice getting breathy as he approaches his high. “Oh God, Hyunjin please,” you beg, even though you’re not sure what you’re begging for at this point.

It doesn’t take too much longer until the coil that was wound suddenly bursts, your orgasm taking over your senses. You lift your back off of the couch, whimpers coming from your mouth as you ride out your own orgasm. Watching you cum sets Hyunjin off, and he quickens his pace. Ribbons of white paint his stomach and his hands, and the sounds that leave his lips, deep and gravely are almost enough to set you off again.

The two of you sit there, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms, the movie completely forgotten. The credits were rolling in the background now, and Hyunjin has completely forgotten about the dare he was supposed to be doing right now. You look over at Hyunjin, his skin glowing and just looking absolutely ethereal. Hyunjin is thinking the same, taking in the way your hair has gotten messed up from running your hands through it, and the slight sheen of sweat on your forehead.

It’s quiet for a moment, and you make your way closer to Hyunjin. His eyes widen as you get closer. Opting to lean in close to him, you whisper in his ear.

“So.. are you gonna let me cum on your fingers now?” you tease.

And he does. And on his tongue, too. Y’know, for good measure.

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

@dom--minnie @sparklemin @minholuvs @hanflix @moonlit-lixie

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #bxngchxn fics #hyunjin

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years ago

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Emma Swan, Olympian is not a phrase Emma Swan, totally normal person, ever expected to hear.

But she never expected one night at a party hosted by her college's baseball team to change her entire life, either. So, it should really come as no surprise that Emma Swan, Olympian, is now something of international sensation. Or that her husband has become a bit of a social media star.

——— Rating: Teen with sports feelings Word Count: 7.5K AN: As promised and because of who I am as a person, I wrote Olympic fic. I can neither confirm nor deny that there is an actual plot here, but there is a surplus of fluff and sports-based feelings. So, that’s something. Thanks to the Detroit Lions, specifically, for posting this Tweet and to my husband who is very much aware of what content I want the internet to provide me. Operation: Make Killian a New York Yankee as often as possible continues.

|| Read on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

———

No one told her the questions would start to blur together.

That would require media training, Emma imagines. And no one is giving a first-time Olympian in a sport that only a handful of people marginally believe warrants notice from the IOC any sort of media training. She got, like, an orientation packet. With a lopsided staple in the top left corner. On her commercial flight. That she booked herself.

Twenty-plus hours crammed into a seat that she’s only a little concerned did permanent damage to her right knee, with a meal that was so chewy Emma was about four seconds and one exasperated, entirely exhausted exhale from asking if it was, in fact, made of plastic.

Mostly, the staple is what’s still managing to frustrate her. As frustrated as she can be at the Olympics. No one is supposed to be frustrated at the Olympics. Not really. Not while experiencing the pinnacle of athletic achievement, the calluses on Emma’s fingertips some sort of badge of honor that she’s wearing with at least a modicum of national pride, and everything is fine.

Her qualifying time was absurd. Where absurd is a compliment and very close to a record she’s suddenly determined to shatter.

So, she’s alone.

Big deal. So is everyone else. This Olympics, at least. Plus, Killian wouldn’t have been able to come no matter what the state of the world was. Even so, the quiet stands are admittedly weird. All these empty arenas with empty seats, the distinct lack of a roaring crowd no more obvious than when the world’s best athletes step to the line. Staring at the climbing wall in front of her four hours earlier, Emma swore she could hear every single beat of her heart echo between her ears.

And that’s—well, solitude is par for the course with an adolescence like hers, half-filled suitcases and brand-new faces in brand-new towns, but she’d gotten used to one town, and the town is actually a city, and the city has long since felt like home, and her fingers reach for the rings dangling above her Team USA t-shirt. They did give her an absolute shit ton of t-shirts, so that was nice.

Except—

Something keeps tugging. Nagging at the back of Emma’s consciousness, almost like she’s forgotten her keys on that flea market table they found in Park Slope two weeks after they moved into the apartment. Because for as well-versed Emma may be in that singular sort of existence, she’s also well-removed from wanting it, and at least three of her knuckles crack. Curling around her rings.

Muscles in her cheeks stretch, another nod and quick blink to avoid the threat of blinding via camera flashes. Someone really should have told her about this. She probably should have assumed. Human interest is the driving force of at least three-quarters of the stories in sports, and Emma’s not used to being the story, per se, but even she has to admit most of hers makes for a good one and they are still asking her questions.

Emma blinks again. Hopes she doesn’t look like a serial killer or the weird blonde, slightly sweaty cousin of the Joker, her smile starting to feel as if it’s painted on her face. She nods. Hums. Listens to questions that are startling in their tonal similarity to Charlie Brown’s teacher, and Emma wonders if Charlie Brown ever got a different teacher or what the school structure of the Peanuts’ universe is and, God, how old was Charlie Brown, even? To withstand that sort of consistent bullying. Was Linus the same age as him? No, right? How long did he carry the blanket around? Was Linus the same age as Sally? Why didn’t the red-headed girl with curly hair get a name?

She nearly falls out of her chair.

That might make the front page of several blogs. Possibly even the back page of a New York tab.

Careful to keep her feet on the ground, Emma lifts her head, directing her eyes toward the source of a question that must have been asked several times if the note of amusement mixing with deadline-based exasperation is anything to go by. Her smile definitely makes her look like a serial killer.

“Sorry, sorry,” Emma mumbles, and none of the oxygen she does her best to inhales makes it even close to her lungs. “I, uh—what was the question?”

The reporter grimaces.

“I wanted to know if you’d seen the video of your husband yet.”

Ice runs down her spine. Every single drop of wholly disgusting sweat falling in rivulets down either one of her cheeks freezes. Oxygen disappears from the room. Or so Emma assumes, what with the crushing feeling pushing down on her lungs and whatnot.

Her mind whirs. Races through possibilities and pitfalls with a speed that would be impressive if Emma weren’t already so close to that record, and she is going to break that record. Somehow she manages not to fall, though. From her chair or the metaphorical climbing wall in her brain, ignoring the sudden dryness of her mouth and the increasing size of her tongue.

Her nails are going to leave little half-moon creases in her palm.

“I don’t—” she starts, and eventually she will wish she was more articulate. For what turns out to be a very nice story.

Standing up, the reporter’s seat creaks as she moves toward the desk they deposited Emma behind after even. Several Olympic officials move to block her, but Emma shakes her head again, and she’s not exactly high-priority on the list of defensible athletes, anyway. So, none of them flinch when the reporter slides a phone closer to Emma, her crazed thoughts briefly lingering on how many phones a reporter could possibly need, but then her eyes drop, and she’s not sure if her ears can actually perk, but Emma certainly tries because she hears him yelling before she sees him.

Her smile shifts.

And the cameras flash again.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s collegiate life, because Anna demands it.

She’s only half-listening, so Emma can never be entirely sure what it was, exactly, she was agreeing to, but in her experience, the agreement doesn’t matter so much as the action, and her roommate’s younger sister is unstoppable when it comes to action. So, Emma is dimly aware of a plan. Something about the baseball house and that one left fielder is in a handful of her classes.

David—something.

He’s got a girlfriend, too. A nice one. Who always smells like sugar when she slides into the seat next to David whatever his last name is, sitting in the row in front of Emma during their Tuesday-Thursday statistics class.

Emma hates statistics.

She doesn’t hate Anna, though. Or her roommate, one of the better college-based surprises, and either Anna has magic or Elsa is an enormous pushover because somehow all three of them are ready at the same time, and the walk to the baseball house isn’t far.

First-year players guard the door — passing out color-coded wristbands that absolutely do not do their job because it takes about six seconds of well-meaning flirting and batted eyelashes between Anna and a mountain of muscle masquerading as the team’s starting catcher to get them inside. With purple wristbands and two tickets for jungle juice instead of the keg.

“Victory,” Anna cries, twisting through the crowd. Half of it is already teetering on the edge of drunk, the rest free-falling into the pit of imminent hangovers, and Emma isn’t sure she’d classify their drinks as a victory, but it’s definitely better than watered-down beer.

And it doesn’t take long, really. By Emma’s shaky count, it’s not even a half-hour before the muscle — who introduces himself as Kristoff, and really is pretty cute, actually — returns, standing unnaturally close to Anna’s left shoulder, furtive glances shared out of the corners of their eyes. Emma rolls hers. Elsa’s appear perpetually stuck to the ceiling. It looks oddly sticky up there.

“Go,” Elsa says, and it’s not an instruction. Barely counts as more than a whisper, really. Anna lights up all the same. Like an alcohol-fueled Christmas tree.

Who does not need telling more than once.

Hands reach and smiles widen, Kristoff mumbling something that sounds like it was nice to meet you before he’s following Anna back to the beer pong table, leaving Elsa and Emma standing in the middle of a sea of raging hormones. All of which want to be there way more than either one of them does.

“Well,” Elsa mutters, “that was polite.”

Emma snickers into her glass. A mostly empty glass. That’s surprising. “Got that going for him.” “Plus, his on-base is nuts this year.”

“Say that again.” “On-base percentage,” Elsa repeats, making sure to do it slowly for maximum sarcastic emphasis. Emma’s eyes are going to fall out. That won’t end well. There are too many shuffling feet in this room.

“What does that mean?” “How often he gets on base.” Opening her mouth does nothing. Closing it does even less. Elsa looks overjoyed. “I know things,” she shrugs, “and I’m pretty positive Anna and Kristoff have been not-so-secretly dating since the start of the semester, so—” “You stalked your sister’s secret boyfriend?” “Stalk’s a very dirty word, don’t you think? No, no, there was no stalking. There was light research. One Google search and a single click to the team’s roster, and now I know he’s from Minnesota, too.” “Awfully convenient for the romance of the century.” Humming, Elsa takes a larger-than-usual sip before scrunching her nose in displeasure. At her empty cup. Emma has no idea how they ended up with empty cups so quickly. Suddenly the baseball house feels a bit like a time warp. Enter and drink and find the love of your life. Or something like that.

“I got next,” Emma says, ignoring Elsa’s laugh because she is not the sort of person who says things like that. It’s this house. This place. With its music and its happiness, and she’s not really a sports person. Can only marginally understand the joy of watching other people accomplish something. She has no idea what on-base percentage is.

Still.

Her feet move. Fingers curl over the rim of red solo cups, like the most cliché version of her college self. Her drinks get refilled. And it’s just as Emma’s about to let herself wonder if, maybe, sports aren’t all that bad and might even possess a bit of inherent romanticism, she slams into something.

Someone, more like.

Taller than her, he has to peer down his nose to glare at Emma. That’s fair. They’re both far more damp than they were ten seconds before. Some of that moisture ensures that the hem of his shirt sticks to his stomach. A very flat stomach. That draws Emma’s eyes because she’s human and slightly intoxicated, and it takes quite a lot more than she’s willing to admit to lift her chin, but then she’s glad she does. Even with the understandable glare.

“Shit,” she breathes, “your eyes are stupid blue.”

He narrows them. She hates that. Which is about all it takes for her to get royally pissed off, too.

“Can you pay attention to where you’re walking?”

The stupidly blue eyes blink. Darken a shade, like all his frustration is centered directly around his pupils, and the shirt he’s wearing is team-branded. Another baseball player, then.

“You ran into me!” Oh, Oh. Well, that sucks. He’s got a good voice, too. Eyes and voice and the few strands of hair that fall toward those eyes when he continues to glare at Emma likely aren’t supposed to make her stomach flip.

It’s the alcohol’s fault.

Or sports. Like, in general.

“Because you take up so much space,” Emma snarls He leans forward. Looms, really. Over her and around her, smelling like punch and body wash. It’s gross and absolutely wonderful. “Gotta pick a lane, love. Either I ran into you, or I was in the way.”

“It can definitely be both and there is nothing resembling love here.”

“So I can see. You have a name, wrecking ball?” “My shoes are never going to unstick from this floor.” To his credit, he does waver. His lips twist — which makes it all too obvious how much Emma is staring at his lips, but, seriously, the alcohol. Plus, it’s so hot in this house she can barely think straight. She wonders where he buys his body wash. He smells better than he should in this house. So, it's clear he considers. Ponders, even. Until his hands dart out and those hands are somehow warmer than every person in this house combined, heat scorching through Emma’s t-shirt as he lifts her off the ground.

Only to deposit her approximately fourteen inches to her left.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” “Look,” he grins, “you’re unstuck.” “Bastard!” “Eh, not technically.” “What?” “Not technically a bastard. Orphan, I suppose. But that’s kind of a mood ruiner, don’t you think?”

Emma’s fish impression is really going great. The grin becomes a smirk. Her stomach refuses to stay still. “Is there a mood to ruin?” “Might be if you tell me your name.”

Emma wavers, that time. Considers and ponders. Weighs the pros and cons while laughter drifts past her ears, consummate collegiate experiences that she’s only ever let herself be passably jealous of. A dark-haired girl’s talking to Elsa in the opposite corner.

And the hand hanging in front of her wiggles its fingers.

It’s still ridiculously warm when she grabs it. “Emma Swan.” “Killian Jones.”

Anna’s secret relationship becomes a real relationship no less than sixteen hours following what Elsa begins to call the Drink Incident.

And they become—

Baseball people.

Becoming baseball people is not bad. Not really. Emma likes the baseball team. She understands what WHIP is, now. Kristoff adores Anna, so that’s good. David, who does, in fact, have a last name, continues to be as nice as assumed, and his girlfriend sort of quasi adopts Emma. Mary Margaret Blanchard brims with positivity and an innate sort of joy that would usually annoy Emma, but most of that joy also serves as a direct counter to the snark that Killian Jones appears flush with. So, it’s something of a wash, really.

Plus, he’s a very sore Monopoly loser.

And Emma finds it endlessly entertaining.

“Stop that,” he grunts, glaring at the board with the sort of force Emma’s become accustomed to in the last few months, while she taps on the space in front of her, “I know how many spots it is.” Emma smiles. “So move, then.” “I’ll be bankrupt.” “Capitalism does that.” “Tell me more about capitalism, Swan.”

She doesn’t startle, so there’s that. Not much else, though. Not when a noticeable bit of equally familiar heat skitters down her spine. Her head tilts. His head remains frustratingly still, staring at the board like the spaces will change or Mary Margaret will tear down some of her hotels on Marvin Gardens.

Neither thing happens.

The heat pools. At the small of her back, inching dangerously close to that space between her hips, like it’s trying to tether her to this spot and this moment and its people. Baseball people. People who so clearly care about everything so much that even the cynic in Emma can appreciate it. Plus, they’re all ridiculously competitive.

David had to take a walk when Mary Margaret bankrupt him earlier.

“That’s about the extent of my capitalism knowledge,” Emma admits with a shrug, “I sucked at economics.” Pulling his gaze away from the board, Emma’s less prepared for the force behind Killian’s eyes than she was for the appearance of a nickname that might not warrant the title. It’s just her name, after all. But it sounds like more than that. Sinks under her skin with alarming ease, the precise tone of it wrapping its way around a variety of internal organs until they’re all beating at the same tempo and— “Move my piece for me.”

Kristoff groans. Mary Margaret chuckles. Elsa looks far too sure of herself. Knows everything, indeed.

And it’s not really a command, but there’s that same sense of something that found its way into the sound of Emma’s name and Killian’s voice, and he catches her by surprise. On a variety of levels. His fingers jump the moment hers reach out, all heat and an alarming size difference, his brows lifting when she turns her head.

“You’re taking this game way too seriously, you know,” Emma says. What she doesn’t say is more important, though. Because they’re not friends, really. They’re—acquaintances. Some kind of appropriate metaphor regarding a planet’s many moons and the tendency of those moons to orbit something far bigger than them. But they like each other, too. As much as they dance and twist, do their best to avoid getting hit in the batter’s box, Emma’s more comfortable bantering with him than just about anyone she’s ever met, a challenge in every conversation, and she’s rather loath to realize she’s memorized the different ways the blue in his eyes flash.

Now it feels a bit like a spotlight.

“Matter of pride, Swan.” “Is it just?” If there are other people laying on their stomachs in that living room, half-empty glasses by their hands and equipment stacked in various corners, Emma forgets about them. Quickly. Immediately. Killian doesn’t move his fingers.

He nods.

And Mary Marget only kind of gloats when she bankrupts him.

She dances when she wins, though.

It’s embarrassing. It’s absolutely, goddamn wonderful.

Realizing that baseball is a game of statistics ruins kind of Emma’s day. It makes Killian laugh. Her favorite sort of laugh. Where he throws his head back, an arm around his middle, and his shoulders shaking. Those same strands of hair she noticed that first night fall back toward lidded eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting in an angle Emma is sure she could determine if she just didn’t hate math so much, and it takes about four seconds, her head tilting back and forth twice and one swipe of her tongue to lean forward on the couch they're sharing, tilt her head up and press her lips to his.

Press is a vast understatement.

Crash, more like.

A bases-clearing double into the left-field gap.

She knows so many baseball terms now, it’s ridiculous.

It’s because she keeps going to games. With Anna. Without Anna. With Elsa. Without Elsa. With Mary Margaret every single time. And it creeps on so slowly, she’s practically a Jane Austen heroine, but then Emma finds she cares as much as everyone else. Screams herself hoarse at every crack of the bat. Jumps and fist bumps with startling regularity. Experiences the flutter of butterflies in her flip-prone stomach before ninth-inning rallies.

She memorizes statistics. Killian’s statistics, especially.

Because the Draft is a week away, and the nerves rolling off him are even more potent than his body wash. Bought in bulk from a locally-owned company, she learns.

Killian hates capitalism, too.

Which is only part of the reason she likes him, but right now all of the reason is centered around how it feels as if the world is shifting on its axis and what, precisely, he is capable of with his tongue. Quite a lot if this first time at bat is anything to believe.

Emma laughs.

Joy bubbles from the very center of her, pushing at the seam of her lips, and it’s not much of a seam when her mouth is open to accommodate tongue, but it’s enough of a sound that Killian pulls back. No glare. Definitely eyebrow movement, though.

“That’s not the best confidence boost, you know.” “I’m straddling you,” Emma counters, nodding toward the knees on either side of his, and she has no idea when her fingers found his hair. It’s very soft.

“How did that happen?” “What was that about confidence?”

Dropping his head, she gets a different sort of laugh, one that’s just as potent in its ability to settle into her bloodstream and the empty spaces around her heart, and sports have turned her into a sap. “I like you a lot,” Killian murmurs. Emma’s heart explodes. Metaphorically speaking.

“Good.” “Expand on that, for me.” She pinches his side, almost prepared for the way it leaves him bucking beneath her. Less prepared for the mutual groan it causes. Killian’s eyes widen. “I like you a lot,” Emma repeats, and his arms tighten, and her heart knits itself back together, and the second time through the kissing order is even better.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s nearly-adult life, because Anna demands it.

“I just think it’ll be fun,” Anna says, not for the first time. And, not for the first time, she ignores the pointed look Emma and Elsa exchange. Elsa’s lips have all but disappeared behind her teeth “Think about it,” Anna continues, “we need something to do before the game, anyway. This way we’re—you know, staying active.” Emma’s eyebrows jump. Fly. Soar into her hairline where the level of her disbelief sits, all too aware of the ring hanging around her neck.

A Draft Day gift. As much as a family heirloom can be a gift. But Killian claimed it was good luck, his brother’s ring, because turns out that snark is at least a partial product of a wholly depressing childhood, and Emma supposes there’s something to be said for common ground. Understanding, too. Stories shared over weeks that turned to months that turned to years and seasons in the minors, and it absolutely figures Killian’s Major League debut is happening in Cincinnati. Where Kristoff plays.

It’s ridiculous how in love with him she is.

Killian. Not Kristoff.

Anna is still talking. “There’s nothing else to do in Cincinnati,” she reasons, which seems unfair to the city itself but not entirely untrue, and even the concept of chili on spaghetti grosses Emma out. “Also,” Anna adds, sounding as if she’s reached the final bullet point on her list of possible arguments, “I’ve got a Groupon deal for this place.”

Elsa blinks. “I didn’t realize Groupon was even still a thing.” “Surprise!”

Emma’s laugh isn’t entirely honest, but her sigh of acceptance is and—

Turns out she’s pretty good at it.

Goddamn fantastic, actually.

At rock climbing. Indoor rock climbing. Her feet push her up the wall with ease, the steady ache in her arms welcome and wonderful and a slew of other alliterative adjectives. That leave Killian grinning like a maniac, but it’s been a weird and equally wonderful day, without a hit, but two walks, so that ups the on-base, and Emma’s really, seriously in love with him.

“I don’t know what it was,” she says, preening just a bit under Killian’s stare. Hotel lighting casts shadows on his cheeks, slumped as he is against every pillow they could find. Even the ones in the closet. He’s not supposed to be in here for much longer, both of them aware of the team-ordained curfew hanging over them, but the pre-game nerves are long gone. Replaced instead with exhilaration and endorphins, the kind that could win Elle Woods a headline-making case. “But,” Emma continues, “I just kept moving, and the guy said it was, like, a course record. Is course the right word, you think?” Killian lifts a shoulder. Even as it’s covered in ice and tape. The play he made at third is going to show on loop. On TV. In Emma’s memory. She’s never yelled that loud before.

People took pictures.

And then she cried. Like a giant sap.

“This is your show, Swan,” Killian chuckles, pride infusing the words. As if she’s the one who deserves the pride today. It’s entirely possible she cried for multiple minutes after that play. They definitely showed that on the YES Network. Mary Margaret texted her no less than forty-seven times.

“I was really fast.” Killian hums, fingers fluttering enough to make it clear he wants her closer. Emma doesn’t argue. They’re a mess of limbs and mouths and that tongue thing they’ve collectively gotten better at giving and receiving over the years, hands that warm with the sort of confidence borne of repetition. Some joke about BP and finding your swing.

“Plus,” he says, a soft laugh at Emma’s noise of displeasure when talking means far less kissing, “becoming a rock climbing savant means more upper-body work, and you know how I love your arms.” Guffawing the way Emma does is not particularly romantic. Doesn’t matter. The sound comes, and the joy remains, a steady stream pumping through all her extremities and clouding her thoughts. In the best way possible. Before Killian, Emma didn’t know this could be that. Fun and easy, not quite simple, but something she’s willing to work for. Athletes are notoriously determined, after all.

Part of her wonders if a proclivity to rock climbing makes her an athlete, too.

“Please,” she says, laughter clinging to the letters even as she finds herself moved directly over Killian’s outstretched legs, “provide, in detail, everything you enjoy about my arms.” “I didn’t say enjoy.” “Were you misquoted, Jones?” His eyes flash. Glow, honestly. At her and because of her and athletes also know how to work their opponents. Goad them into making mistakes. Something about a pitcher’s duel and a battle in the box. Where the box is this bed. And Emma’s winning.

“I love your arms,” Killian says. Dragging his mouth against the column of her throat leaves goosebumps on Emma’s skin. Her back arches. His hand flattens. The compliments continue. Turn into promises. Guarantees. Of a future that’s spread out at their feet now, if only they reach for it.

Turns out Emma’s pretty good at reaching for things. When she wants them.

“This isn’t, like, free-scale, though, is it?”

Her heart cannot be expected to handle much more of this.

“Don’t worry,” Emma says, “all proper safety precautions were taken. Plus, I wouldn’t fall off the wall.”

Killian’s expression shutters. Not in any of that frustration Emma so clearly understood when his shirt was damp, and her shoes were unsalvagable despite his best efforts to get the school’s equipment manager to dry-clean them. No, it’s—it’s something big and important and unspoken, and Emma pulls his hand up. To rest directly over the rink that’s still tucked beneath her t-shirt.

His t-shirt.

It’s got his last number on it, at least.

“Would you catch me if I fell off the wall?” He doesn’t answer at first. Doesn’t mention the absurdity of a question that does not make sense, but those literal and metaphorical clock hands are ticking, and if they don’t replace his ice soon, they’re going to destroy these sheets. “Every single time, Swan.” “Right back at you.”

Killian doesn’t miss curfew, but it’s pretty close.

And Emma wakes up to twelve texts with links for indoor rock climbing gyms in the greater New York City area.

“Holy shit, this is hard.”

Grunting more than laughing, Emma’s fingers curl around the rock in front of her. Chalk cakes itself on the pads of those fingers, stuck beneath her nails and, somehow, the bend of her elbow. “Are you not an All-Star?” she asks, glancing at Killian.

“I do not see how that factors into this at all.”

“Huh, weird.” “Suspiciously sounds like an accusation.” “Weird,” Emma repeats. They’re halfway up a wall only one of them is really supposed to be on, but the other person several feet below them is faring far worse than the pair of them combined, so, that takes precedence in her mind. “He knows a lot more curse words than I realized.” “He’s showing off,” Killian grumbles, forehead resting against the wall.

Will Scarlet hasn’t moved in five minutes. Possibly six. Maybe a round ten. He's much better at second base.

“I cannot feel my arms,” he calls, and Emma’s laugh is better that time. Purer, somehow. As if happiness can actually have a sound. Even happiness that comes with sweat on her temple and a noticeable ache in her triceps and she sort of loves this.

Sort of is a vast understatement.

“Showing off, huh?” Emma asks. She finds her next footfall with ease, happiness blooming into confidence that’s become nearly consistent these days and weeks and years. It does not take her long to feel the stare that’s lingering on her. On her ass, specifically.

She glances over her shoulder. To find her fiancé smiling at her. And staring at her ass.

“Can I help you, love?” “Whatcha doing?” “Ogling you, obviously.” “Forearms feeling good?” He nods. Sort of. There’s a distinct slope to the back of his neck and more sweat on his brown than Emma’s. Not as much as Scarlet’s, probably. “Fantastic,” Killian drawls, “keep going, Swan, someone’s got to show us how to do it.” “Try not to fall off the wall, huh? Last thing we need is the might of the Yankees front office coming after us.” “I don’t think I can move my hands,” Will shouts. Killian doesn’t move. It’s impressive forearm strength. Blushing on the wall is not usually how Emma’s days go.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises, and Emma moves. He follows her. Up the wall and to the top, a quick brush of his lips against her shoulder that leaves Scarlet cursing even more, despite his presence on the floor, but then there’s lemon-flavored water and exceptionally soft towels and Emma’s caught a bit off guard by the question.

“Are there leagues for this?” Will asks. “Because you should probably be winning things for this.” Emma blinks. Considers. Wonders. Turns to Killian.

He’s still smiling. Broadly, in fact.

“We could look.” They do. They fill out paperwork. Buy fancy climbing shoes that Emma claims cost too much, but Killian’s a pushover and even more stubborn and she wins the first race she signs up for.

Plus, ten more after that.

Emma climbs indoor rock walls. Killian hits home runs. Occasionally they do these things simultaneously, and it usually leads to her nearly falling off the wall because everyone in her Tribeca gym knows what it means when WFAN is playing on the speakers.

Sometimes they shout out John Sterling’s home run call with him.

She gets better. He gets better.

They do end up destroying sheets in various hotels across the country. For various reasons. Not all of them post-game or ice related. There are games and events. Wins and losses. Back page spreads that Emma frames and hangs on their apartment walls, right next to other, smaller frames, with the same smiling faces who, once upon a time, called a sticky-floored baseball house home, and Killian’s fingers are warm in hers when the tears prick her eyes at Anna and Kristoff’s wedding.

There are stories. Think pieces and hot takes on a variety of drive-time radio shows. Those are all about Killian, though. He’s the athlete. The true one, some stories say. It’s impressive what Emma does, they admit, but it’s a hobby, and she’s got a grown-up career, anyway. So, she’s got more climbing records than she knew ever existed, but she’s not doing it for press, and both Mary Margaret and Anna weep at her and Killian’s wedding.

She wears her ring on a chain next to her other one when she climbs.

Every time Killian notices them hanging there, Emma swears, his eyes brighten. It’s her favorite thing in the whole, goddamn world.

“What is this?” He doesn’t answer. Just holds the sheet of paper he must have printed out in the clubhouse because they certainly don’t have a printer at home, and one of the edges is bent. Like he had to fit it in his back pocket.

“Going the stoic route, huh?” Emma quips, but there’s a noticeable hitch in her pulse. One that’s been there for weeks. Since the rumblings started, and the rumors began, whispers of possibility, and first-ever has a very nice ring to it. One side of Killian’s mouth tugs up. “Oh, that’s not fair.” “I’d like the record to show, that the only reason I didn’t know immediately was because I was in the trainer’s room, so—” “What were you in the trainer’s room for?” Killian ignores her. Well, sort of. His eyes shift, and his gaze holds, and Emma knows. Right down in the marrow of her. What the paper is and how Scarlet is the one who printed it out, but she’s even more confident Killian carried it home, and that does something funny to her entire worldview. Widens it and minimizes it at the same time, focusing on this and them and the possibility that creates.

In an athletic sort of way.

“My shoulder’s kind of sore.” Emma scoffs. “Oh, that’s pointed.” “I’m sure your shoulders are fine. Golden, even.’ “This is not your best work, you know that?” “Look at the paper.” “Did you fold it yourself?” “And then took a car back home. You really didn’t see yet?” Emma shakes her head. He knows the answer, too. He’s the one with the Google alert, after all. Because she’s still a bit of a pessimist at heart and an adult with a real job, and this is too much and abjectly terrifying, and the last thing she expects is for Killian to crouch in front of her.

One of his knees cracks.

“Don’t,” he warns, even as Emma does her best to swallow her laugh. Warm hands land on her thighs, a quiet steadiness that helps the state of her pulse and makes the possibility of the unknown a little less overwhelming. The lines crossing the center of the paper are absurdly straight. “You’re going to go.” “Oh, that sounded like a decree.” “A suggestion.” “A strong one.” “Mmhm, with the utmost confidence.” Emma makes an impressive sound. “Who’s doing your media training? What an impressive vocabulary you’ve got on you.” “Ready and willing to use it in a persuasive manner.” “Keep talking like that, and you won’t have to.” The smirk disappears. Evolves into a grin that is only Emma’s and only appears in moments like this, support clinging to air molecules and the ends of hair that constantly seems determined to fall into Killian’s eyes. “Passed, huh? All cool with the IOC.” “Decidedly cool. Officially an Olympic sport, now. Although the name could use some work. Sport climbing lacks a little oomph, don’t you think?”

“What would you call it?” “Emma Swan wins Olympic gold.” “Kinda wordy.” “Prophetic,” Killian corrects, hands shifting and pulling, and Emma has to widen her legs. His head’s at a very good kissing angle. “You’ve already got the qualifying numbers.” “You looked at the qualifying numbers?” “Don’t insult me like that. What do you think I did in the backseat?” “Planned the entire 2020 Olympics, apparently.” “Not the entire Olympics,” Killian counters, "just the part involving you. And maybe my individual expectations regarding the United States baseball team, but that’s another conversation altogether.”

“Naturally.”

“You’re using that voice.”

Widening her eyes does nothing. Emma didn’t expect it to. Not after years and games and events because rock climbing has events, and one time Mary Margaret made her a sign. Killian held it. He’s taller, that’s why.

“Don’t,” Killian repeats, “this is happening.” “Yuh-huh?” “You heard me. It’s your turn, now.” Melting is an impossibility. Like, for a human. Even so. Emma feels like she’s melting. Some of that pessimism evaporating under the warmth of Killian’s gaze and his hands and the determination in the precise angle of his chin. Same one he uses when he steps into the box with runners in scoring position.

Lumping herself into that group isn’t as insulting as Emma once believed it would be.

“God,” Emma groans, “that’s romantic.” “You’re really selling it, love.”

“This is supposed to be a hobby.” “One you’re exceedingly good it. World record good at it.” “I like you.” “That’s my end game, yeah.” She laughs. Smiles. Continues melting. Which is easier once they get rid of their clothing, and their bed is way more comfortable than any hotel they’ve encountered. And she falls asleep with Killian’s lips against her ear, Emma Swan, Olympic gold medalist whispered on loop like it’s a mantra he’s been practicing.

They postpone the Olympics.

It sucks. Everything sucks. Baseball sucks. Gyms are closed. Emma gets creative, and Killian gets research-prone. They build a makeshift wall. She tosses him BP.

People write stories about it.

It doesn’t help.

Until—

Time passes. Some things change. Others don’t. Their wall stands up to the elements of their building’s courtyard, and Killian’s hitting better than ever this season, a victory Emma’s going to claim as at least partially hers. And then the Olympics are back, and it’s qualifying and racing and a record that’s just out of reach, but she’s good enough even without it, and, this time, she’s the one packing a suitcase.

He kisses her.

Does the tongue thing.

Holds onto her like he’s only a little afraid she’s going to fall off the wall, but now the wall is international competition, and Emma’s freaking out a little.

“I love you,” she says into the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten. “I love you too.” “Gold medal?” “Gold medal.” “Hit some home runs while I’m gone, huh?” Lips graze her temple. Her forehead. The bridge of her nose. Emma might be crying, and Mary Margaret’s definitely recording, a small mob of red white, and blue surrounding them. “I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises.

“Good.”

He hits three before her first qualifying round. So, Emma takes that as a challenge. She’s an athlete now.

It’s why, she figures, her fingers don’t slip on her first run.

Her feet are sure. Her breathing is steady. There’s no one cheering her name, but she’s long since memorized the exact way Killian’s voice lifts above a crowd. How he pushes up on his toes to watch, as if standing up taller makes sure he’s closer to her. Should she need him when she falls off the wall. Only, Emma doesn’t fall, and she’s got no intention of ever falling and—

Her laugh shudders out of her in a watery sort of way that makes the journalist still standing in front of her flinch ever so slightly. Twitter makes sure the video starts playing again as soon as it finishes, which is somehow the best and worst thing that has ever happened to her. Best because, well, Emma’s honestly not sure she’s ever seen her husband like this.

Worst because she’s very nearly goddamn crying. Again.

Bobbing on the balls of his feet in front of his locker, whoever’s recording the video — it’s Scarlet, obviously — is practically frenzied behind the camera, barely able to contain their laughter. Killian doesn’t notice. He’s holding his own phone, all five of his free fingers firmly entrenched in the back of his hair. It’s gotten softer with age, Emma thinks.

She can’t stop watching him.

Every inhale is a clear struggle, the bobbing turning into pacing and quiet mumbling she can hear perfectly. As if she’s standing right in front of him.

Or at least slightly to the side. So as not to stand on the logo in the middle of the clubhouse.

Athletes are notoriously superstitious, too.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Killian chants, another noticeable snicker from Scarlet, “right there, right there, and pull, pull—Swan, pull up!”

“I did pull up there,” Emma mumbles. To the reporter, maybe. Or the world. Possibly her husband. Who was definitely more nervous about the first run than her.

God, that’s romantic.

Killian’s still talking. Shouting, more like. It’s a miracle Scarlet hasn’t fallen over yet.

“Faster, faster, you can go faster than that, Swan—” Emma clicks her tongue. “That’s kind of insulting.”

There’s an appropriate titter of laughter from the peanut gallery, which is a joke she was not trying to make, but she’s also dangerously close to swooning in the middle of press and she should have asked the Yankees for media training. Someone would have made sure she didn’t make a total ass of herself.

“Show me the time,” Killian yells, another demand that isn’t that. It’s too wobbly a string of words to hold any real power, just the supportive sort of desperation Emma’s felt in a variety of ninth innings and series-clinching moments. “Faster! Faster!” “Talking to the time or the judges or your wife?” Scarlet asks.

Killian nearly snarls.

Emma blinks. Hyperactively. Crying is not usually her shtick. More camera flashes...flash, Emma barely noticing them with her eyes glued to a phone screen that isn’t hers because she at least knows not to bring her phone to a press conference, and she can only imagine how many text messages she’s gotten.

Even on the other side of the world.

They post the times.

She knows because Killian gets some rather impressive height on his celebratory vertical. Fingers abandoning his hair, his fist pumps the air, and Scarlet’s not laughing so much as he’s whooping, a steady stream of yeah, yeah, yeah in the background. And for about half a breath, Emma’s worried Killian may turn one of his ankles on his landing, but he’d think that was insulting, and she’s really just full-on swooning now.

“How many people have seen this?’ she asks the reporter, already knowing the answer.

The reporter smiles anyway. Emma should learn her name.

“Pretty much the whole world.” When Emma was a kid — the sort of kid who believed alone was better, and there was strength in singularity, that would have terrified her. Bowled her over, really. Left her running without looking back, desperate to shed any sort of notoriety because notoriety meant attention, and attention meant inevitable disappointment.

Maybe that’s why she was never much of a sports person.

Sports disappoint you. They build you up and let you down, a sharp and sudden fall without a safety net. But sometimes. Sometimes, every so often, something wonderful happens. Sports lift you. Right up an indoor wall. Because, she knows, sports’ power comes from belief, from surrendering yourself to something bigger and better, and she’s back on that alliterative kick, but the tears are barely clinging to her eyelashes now and Emma herself is bigger and better, now.

In an international, decidedly romantic sort of way.

The video’s playing away.

“Let’s go,” Killian cries, and there it is. Her sound and their sound, cheering across an ocean and time zones that are still kind of messing with her sleep schedule.

Emma’s smile stretches.

“Let’s go,” she repeats.

It ends, as with most things in Emma’s gold-medal-winning life, because Anna plans it.

Stepping out of the terminal, it takes less than a full breath for the cheers to start. For the banners to lift and the tears to flow, a small platoon of support covered in the sort of patriotic gear they definitely got from the Old Navy in Herald Square.

Flashes burst behind Emma’s eyelids because she’s got to blink or she’ll definitely fall over. Her legs wobble beneath her, contending against a wave of triumph and jubilation, which is sort of the same word, but they’ve got a game at the Stadium tonight, so she doesn’t expect, she just hopes and reaches, and he has to twist around both Anna and Mary Margaret.

It’s wonderfully cyclical.

As is the way Emma slams herself against him. On purpose, this time. Killian’s arms tighten, more cheers and shouts, and people a few feet away start chanting USA over and over. Emma barely hears them. Her feet aren’t touching the ground, so she’s kind of preoccupied.

They’re all arms and mouths, and her legs wrapped securely around a body that probably shouldn’t be supporting hers when she knows he slid into second two nights ago, but Killian clearly has no intention of letting her down, and the medal around her neck bumps against her rings.

“You’re a very good cheerleader; you know that?” He hisses. In what, Emma can’t imagine. Embarrassment, if the red tips of his ears are anything to go by, and she’s got ideas as to why that is and how long the conversation about social media with Scarlet went, so Emma does the only reasonable thing.

She slams her lips against her home-run hitting husband’s, doing her best to make sure the gold medal doesn’t mistakenly impale either one of them, and the world tilts again. With victory and sports-based support and the sort of love that comes from believing in something bigger.

And better than Emma could have ever imagined.

“I didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

“Please,” Emma scoffs, “don’t insult me like that. Plus, I’m claiming every one of those home runs as my own, so comparatively—” He kisses her before she can say anything else.

That’s for the best, probably.

“Your arms looked ridiculously good the whole time.”

Her laugh doesn’t even sound like her when Emma hears it played back — another video that someone tells her goes viral, only she doesn’t care about hits or site traffic, just about the particular shade of blue in Killian’s eyes, and she wears her medal to the game that night.

Because they’re a sports power couple, now.

Or so the New York Post back page claims the next day.

Emma frames it.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #hook heel #this is also apparently my 50th work on ao3 #which is just patently nuts #so if you guys have been clicking and reading all these words know that i am a little in love with you

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years ago

Text

"....So I Married A Monster" *Chapter 8*

Chapter 7

Chapter 9

OHEMGEEEEE!!! A new chapter!

I appreciate the patience this week/last week guys, It's certainly been-- challenging. And it's not over yet, but I did want to get you a chapter since you all have been so understanding and lovely.

That being said I really am here just to break your heart with some good ol' angsty angst. MWAHAHAHHAAHA.

Enjoy.

I may try and put out another chapter tonight, but we will only be getting to 10 with this one I'm 90% sure so I want them to be good chapters.

Tag List

@agentcable

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

@word-scribbless

@storiesofsvu

@believinghurts

==========

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down,” An officer told him.

“No!” William screamed. “That man kidnapped my wife--”

“She’s NOT your wife!” Rafael cut him off. “You can verify that, she’s his ex-wife,”

“How ‘bout I verify my foot up your ass, dickhead?!” Lewis screamed.

“Lovely, Lewis,” Rafael rolled his eyes with a sarcastic laugh.

“You son of a--” Lewis lunged for Rafael but an officer held him back.

“BOTH OF YOU, GET OUT,” The nurse escorted the two men to the waiting room. “Family only!”

“But she’s my--”

“EX” Rafael finished. “And I’m her--”

“BOYFRIEND,” Lewis snarled. “Not HUSBAND,”

“I’m more concerned about the you're blood covered in, Mr.--” A female officer interjected.

“Barba,” Rafael finished.

“It’s my wi--” Lewis started, but saw Rafael’s eyes glaring at him. “Y/N’s blood, my ex wife,”

“And exactly why are you covered in her blood Mr. Barba?” The officer continued to question him.

“Because I--” He began to explain how he had rescued you from that monster.

“BECAUSE HE RAPED HER!!” Lewis screamed again.

“Alright, Mr.--”

“Loomis,” William stuck out his hand. “Billy Loomis,”

“That is BULLSHIT,” Rafael snapped. “His name is William Lewis, look him up,”

“Alright, you come with me, you go with Cooper,” The woman officer instructed her partner to take Lewis the opposite direction.

“Fine with me,” Rafael grumbled as the other cop dragged Lewis away.

“Alright so why don’t you start from the beginning, Mr. Barba,” She pulled out an iPad from her back holster.

“....How far do you mean, officer?” Rafael asked as they sat down in two waiting room chairs.

“Why don’t you call me Sherrie,” She softened her tone with a small smile. Ah, so she was going to play good cop with him.

“How far do you think will help me understand this?” She continued.

“Well,” Rafael rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s complicated,”

“....How so?” Sherrie raised an eyebrow. She had that look on her face; the same one Olivia got when she didn’t believe a word a perp was saying. Great.

“Well first of all, that man is not who he says he is,” He pointed towards where Lewis had been taken. “His name is William Lewis, and he is a wanted rapist and murderer in several states, including New York,”

“Ah, New York,” Sherrie nodded. “Is that where you're from?”

“Uh, yes, New York City in fact,” Rafael clarified. Why did she say it like that? She used a tone that he should be using. That disdain, that condescending tone. That just pissed Rafael off even more.

“I see,” Sherrie nodded as she jotted down things on her iPad.

“Look just because I’m from New York and you people--”

“Us people?” Sherrie gave him a glare.

“...You all,” Rafael changed his tune. “Think ‘down’ of us New Yorkers--”

“Oh I believe it’s the other way around, Mr. Barba,” Sherrie scowled. Well, she did have a point.

“....Lewis lives there too,”

“Really?” Sherie raised an eyebrow. “Because I just searched his name in our database and Mr. LOOMIS is a non-offender, born and bred New Jersian.

“That is a load of shit!” Rafael stood up. “I am telling you, he is a psychopath. He has several identities across the god damn country, and he’s--”

“Not on trial here, Mr. Barba,” Sherrie finished.

“And I am?” Rafael scoffed.

“We’ll see,” She gave him a look.

“Por el amor de Dios....” Rafael muttered, along with a few other obscenities in spanish. “Look just call the NYPD. Talk to Sergeant Benson of the SVU Unit” Rafael instructed her.

“SVU hmm?” Sherrie raised an eyebrow as she typed.

“Yes!” Rafael cried. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! I am the Assistant District Attorney of New York City! I would never, ever hurt anyone. Especially not Y/N. I love her,”

“Right,” Sherrie nodded. “Alright well I’ll call her after we’re done here, okay?”

“Sure you will,” Rafael muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“Do you really wanna start an attitude with me, Mr. Barba?”

“Rafael,” He exhaled. “My name is Rafael,” The more she used ‘Mr. Barba’ the more he felt he actually was on trial. “And I’m sorry, I just-- I’m scared,”

“For you or for her?” Sherrie questioned.

“For her!” Rafael got excited again. “Lewis raped her and tore her rectum, then went and took a shower after haphazardly bandaging her, like it was no big fucking deal!”

“And you know this, how?” She asked in a suspicious manner.

“Because she called me,” He continued. “She called me earlier and told me he had her hostage,”

“He was holding her hostage?” Sherrie continued to use a suspicious tone.

“Yes! And I can prove it!” Rafael suddenly remembered the picture Lewis had so cockily sent him.

The one of him holding a gun pressed to your back. The image would haunt him forever. He went to get his phone, but it wasn’t in his pocket. Shit, it must still be in the car. He had hastily dropped it as soon as he told you he was coming in to get you.

“Shit,” He muttered.

“Is there a problem?” Sherrie asked.

“I have a photo on my phone, but I must have left it in my car,”

“Conveniently,” She nodded.

“NO!” Rafael stomped his foot. “Look if you’ll just let me go get it--”

“Right,” Sherrie scoffed sarcastically with a laugh. “Let me just let you ‘run out to your car’,”

“You can follow me, escort me, whatever,” He huffed. “I have nothing to hide,”

“Alright then,” Sherrie followed Rafael outside the hospital doors, but his car wasn’t there.

“Shit,” He muttered. “They must have towed it because I just parked in the ambulance bay and got Y/N help,”

“Oh, mmhmm, I’m sure that must be what happened,” She rolled her eyes.

“This is insane,” Rafael half laughed at the absurdity of the situation. He felt like he was in an episode of the Twilight Zone. He was being treated like a convict while Lewis was the golden boy of Jersey. This was a nightmare.

“Can we just--” Rafael ran his hands through his hair, trying to think of something, anything that would clear his name.

“Can you just call the NYPD, please?” He begged Sherrie. “I swear to you, Olivia Benson will clear my name and tell you all about William Lewis,”

Sherrie looked at him for a long moment, debating whether to cut him some slack. On the one hand, he was covered in your blood, and had brought you in. Also, he was from New York City, so God knows how slick he was. On the other hand, he did look genuinely scared and pitiful, and if he had the balls to ask her to actually call the NYPD, maybe he was telling the truth.

“Alright Rafael, I’ll humor you,” She finally nodded, typing NYPD into Google. She got the number and began dialing it, waiting for someone to answer.

“Hi, yes this is Officer Reagan of the Jersey PD-- Is there an Olivia Benson there?” Sherrie asked as she gave Rafael a side eye. There was silence for a moment, then she began to speak.

“Hi yes, Sergeant Benson. This is-- Right. Do you know Rafael Barba?”

“Mmmhmm, well he’s here at Jersey County Hospital having brought in a woman who had clearly been assaulted, and he--” Sherrie stopped as Olivia began speaking very fast and loudly.

“Look ma’am there’s no reason to-- Yes her husband-- alright her ex husband, Billy Loomis-- Alright allegedly this ‘William Lewis’. Whoa there ma’am-- Sergeant, there’s no need to get hysterical,” Rafael chuckled to himself as he watched Sherrie get chewed out by Olivia.

“...Well yes he is here, but I really don’t feel comfortable having you take him into custody, Sergeant. This isn’t your jurisdiction, so I’m sorry but you have no claim on Billy, or William, or whoever,” Sherrie was getting fed up with Olivia’s attitude.

“Uh yes, that is so, sergeant. If you’d like to take it up with my sergeant, feel free to come down here and-- well fine! Good, we’ll be here. No I will not be letting Mr. Barba go, he’s still a-- you know what, I’m sick of this. You wanna come down here and raise a fit for your man here, go right ahead,” Sherrie hung up the phone and looked at a now smirking Rafael.

“I told you,” He smirked.

“Yeah well you’re not going anywhere until this ‘Olivia Benson’ gets here. Which I assume will be pretty soon,”

“Your assumption is spot on,” Rafael chuckled to himself. If there was one thing he could count on, Olivia would come running to his defense at the drop of a hat.

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

Meanwhile

“Look I’m telling you, that man abducted my ex wife in the middle of the night and raped her,” Lewis was scrambling.

“And how do you know this, Mr. Loomis?” Officer Cooper asked.

“Because I was there,” He explained.

“And why were you at your ex-wife’s house?” Cooper asked skeptically.

“We--” William was thinking on the fly.

He was still fuming from the balls on Barba trying to rescue you, and agitated that he got the male cop who wasn’t so easily manipulated as a woman would’ve been.

“We were reconciling,” He lied.

“Reconciling?” The officer raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“I told her earlier today that I had made a mistake leaving her and my family, and that I wanted to come back home,” He explained. “And then I offered to pick up our girls from school and meet her at home, while she broke it off with that bastard,”

“Broke it off?” The officer questioned him. “So they are in a relationship?”

“...Yeah,” He muttered.

“So how exactly did her boyfriend kidnap her, if she went to him willingly?”

“....He got pissed when she tried to break it off,” Lewis was spinning a thread of lies now. “He called me and told me that if he couldn’t have her, nobody could,”

“I see,” Cooper nodded, typing on his iPad

“So when she came home to me and the girls, he followed her. We didn’t know until he broke in and kidnapped Y/N,” Lewis now focused on keeping his ‘concerned husband’ act. He was pretty sure he had a good story going.

“Mmm hmm,” The officer nodded as he continued typing. He wasn’t even acknowledging him; that was making Lewis’s blood boil. He liked being in control; he hated being ignored.

“Look can I check on my wife, please?” He tried going for the sympathy card again, knowing he wasn’t getting anywhere with this guy.

“Legally she’s not your wife anymore, Mr. Loomis,” The officer finally looked up to Lewis once more. “So technically you have no legal right to see her right now, as you’re not her current family,”

“I AM HER FAMILY GOD DAMMIT!!!” Lewis screamed, losing his cool. He quickly panicked and dialed it back. “I mean, she’s always going to be my family. Her and my precious girls,”

“....Right,” The officer nodded, not amused by his little temper tantrum. He had seen guys like this before; controlling, hot tempered husbands. He had grown up with a man just like that; it was one of the reasons he became a cop.

“And where exactly are your ‘precious girls’, Mr. Loomis?” He added. Guys like these, they lost their heads when they felt cornered. Lewis probably hadn’t even remembered they existed.

“...They’re at home, asleep,” He said softly.

“Alone?” Cooper raised an eyebrow.

“We live like two blocks from here officer,” Lewis lied again, having indeed forgotten about the girls. “I didn’t want to scare them, they’re asleep in their comfy beds, totally oblivious to this nightmare,”

“And exactly how old are they?” Cooper gave him a look.

“...Old enough to be alone for a bit,” Lewis shrugged, hoping he’d take that as an answer.

“Well, at the risk of ‘worrying’ them, I think I’d better send an officer over there to check on them, don’t you think?” The officer asked in a accusatory tone.

Lewis really did want that, he was actually starting to worry about them. He actually had told Maggie that you felt sick and were in your room, and he was going out to get you medicine. But this guy was already clearly skeptical. If he told this officer where you actually lived, he was going to accuse him of child endangerment.

“...Mr. Loomis?” The officer called to him, but he was busy plotting an escape route.

Lewis glanced around the room, gauging how many people were in the vicinity. It was a bunch of pathetic patients with random injuries and illness’s waiting on a doctor, some ER nurses, a receptionist, the two cops, and him and Barba. Then he glanced at the gun in the officer’s holster, a plan formulating in his head. He wanted you all to himself, that was for sure. But you and your fucking white knight might have just outsmarted him for that to happen. Unless... the line you had said earlier about the girls being leverage. He hated the idea of exploiting the girls like that, but he was not going back to prison, and he was not losing those girls.

“Mr. Loomis!” The officer repeated in a louder, angrier tone. Lewis finally looked at him with a very sinister smile, eerily calm.

“...Ah officer, maybe you should take care of that first,” Lewis pointed to something behind him. As soon as the officer turned to see what he was talking about, Lewis yanked the gun from his holster and fired two shots into his head.

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

Across the room, Rafael and Officer Sherrie immediately flinched and ducked at the sound of the loud bang from the gun. People began screaming and running around in panic, most of them heading out the front doors of the hospital. Rafael’s eyes widened in horror as he realized Lewis had gotten a gun and had just murdered an officer. He turned to Officer Reagan who looked at him in shock, and a bit in remorse. She knew she had gotten the situation wrong, and now her partner had paid the ultimate price for it.

“Lewis, look just calm down--” Rafael tried to reason with Lewis, but the manic look in his eyes showed him he wasn’t going to get anywhere.

“Why don’t YOU calm down, counselor?” Lewis smirked as he raised the gun to Rafael. If there was one sure fire way to ultimately punish you for trying to run off with the do gooder, it would be getting rid of him altogether.

“No, Lewis don’t--” Rafael barely got out a plea for his life before Lewis had shot a bullet into his chest. More people screamed, and Officer Reagan rushed to help him.

Lewis took this opportune moment to run out of the hospital. He sprinted into the parking lot and picked the first car he saw to break into and hotwire, speeding out of the parking lot back to your place. He had to get the girls before cops found out where you lived. He’d figure out where to go from there.

From inside an examination room, you had started to come to as the IV bags of blood began to fill your system back up. You had barely had a chance to sit up before you heard the first shot go off. You immediately knew it was Billy, he had found you. You saw the doctor and nurses that were in the room with you slam the door shut to keep you all safe from Billy. You could see through a window into the lobby just enough to see Rafael with his hands up, before Billy put a bullet in him. You watched in horror as Rafael slumped to the ground, and a woman officer rushing to help him.

“NO!!!!!!” You screamed, trying desperately to get off the table.

The doctor and nurses held you down and slapped hands over your mouth to keep you quiet, terrified Lewis would come in there next. But to their relief he dashed out the door, and the hands were removed from your mouth. However they kept you pinned down so that you wouldn’t pull your IV’s out, inadvertently letting blood gush out all over the patient room.

You watched helplessly as nurses swarmed Rafael and rushed him off to another part of the hospital altogether.

What kind of nightmare had you woken up to?

#rafael barba #rafael barba angst #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fanfiction #william lewis x you #william lewis #william lewis x reader #svu fanfiction #law and order svu fanfiction #william lewis fanfiction #so i married a monster #rafael barba imagine #william lewis imagine #william lewis angst

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balkanradfem · 4 years ago

Text

Compilation of new stupid things I've done ft. Herbalism

So, someone suggested a herbalist to my post about female youtubers. I wanted to learn herbalism since forever, but for some reason, I didn't expect this knowledge to be available on youtube, I thought I'd have to find an old witch for this. I started watching this content with extreme excitement, and the first things I learned about are 'nourishing herbal infusions'. I've never heard of this before, but the herbalist said it's done like this:

You get about 300 grams of a dry plant in a clean jar, pour boiling hot water to the top of the jar, close the lid. Leave it on the counter to cool, then leave overnight in the fridge. Next morning you strain and they're ready to drink!

And she advises not to use herbs that are very fragnant, as that would be dangerous. She suggested nettle, linden, oatstraw, red clover. The logic behind it is that the water will break the plant down and draw out a lot of nutrients, and some medicinal properties, which you can then drink in liquid form! Nettle infusion will have a lot of calcium, iron and minerals, repair your energy levels and help regulate your hormones, and so on (I forgot what the rest are good for).

So, as soon as I had that much info, I rushed to the kitchen, to my herb stash. I had already eaten all dry nettle at that point, but I had a lot of linden! Linden infusion it is. I stuffed a full jar of it, poured boiling water, left it overnight in the fridge. It looked so beautiful, golden in color, twinkling light glowing thru it. It also tasted incredible. Like the tastiest ice tea you could imagine.

However.. it made my heartrate go thru the roof. I was having palpitations like crazy. I still drank it because it was super tasty. People here actually say very often 'too much linden is bad for the heart' which I disregarded. So, I still wanna make more infusions at this point, and I search for whatever I have a lot in stock; I had elderflower! Surely thats not too fragnant..

It was. One should not do this. That potion made me physically shaking. It didn't bother me that much but it was weird, and the taste was too strong. I had to throw half of it away. Sad.

This is also when I found out you're only supposed to use linden in half-dosage. So I tried linden infusion again in a low dose. Nope. Still increases heartrate. Sad.

At this point I also used google and found out that herbalism is filled with drama lately; apparently there's a popular herbalist on the rise and other herbalists are very concerned with dangerous and reckless advice she's giving. A person in a blog post said how nettle infusion was drying her out, because nettle is very drying, and it's better to use violet leaf infusion, which is hydrating, gentle, better tasting and overall nicer. I was very intrigued; I also saw a video from the herbalist listing violet leaf as a medicine against anxiety, stress, throat problems, breathing problems, lung issues, breast cysts, like everything you could ever want out of your life. So now I'm thinking I gotta try this out! She points out how violet leaf is extremely easy to identify, and I believe her, so I go out, to all the places I found violets early spring, and I get some leaves that looked similar to what she was showing.

I make tea from those leaves, and it knocks me out. I was sedated. I literally cared about nothing for the entire day after drinking this tea. It was a drug level medicine. It was also, extremely beautiful and tasty. Like a dream drug. I had it 3 days in a row, because I would soon need it to counter the effects of the other one: The nettle infusion.

Nettle infusion... was also like drugs, but with the opposite effect. It made me hyperactive, happy, filled with energy; it worked within seconds of drinking. It was also drying my throat, but did I care? No. I struggle with chronic exhaustion, and nettle offered me endless energy – of course I immediately over-worked myself into collapsing, because I'm not used to having a lot of energy. It was the new magic. It was filled with calcium and tasted like milk – so I thought, maybe I could use this as a milk replacement in cooking? And I did and it works. I had the best pancakes I had in years.

The power of herbalism at this point had me shocked, after years of calcium deficiency and cooking without milk, I just had it all now? And energy too? God-level plant powers.

I did start acting very weird. All my friends were telling me I was an addict, and as I got back from foraging with 3kg worth of nettle, that I splayed over a whole bed to dry, I felt that maybe, this was not the normal human behaviour. Maybe they were right. But then I thought, it would be a way bigger problem to run out of dry nettle.

I still haven't tried that promising, magical violet leaf infusion at this point; I felt a little apprehensive, because if even the lightest tea sedated me so severely, wouldn't an infusion of that put me in a coma? Still, I wanted to try. It was extremely lucky that I didn't. Because when I went to harvest more of those violet leaves – which I kept finding everywhere, for some reason, I discovered they were not, in fact, violet leaves. For the first time I found a yellow flower in it, and froze. I knew that flower to be poisonous.

The biggest danger of uneducated messing with plants is accidentally ingesting something poisonous, and it's exactly what I did. The leaves looked enough like violet leaves – to someone who didn't handle violet leaves before and didn't know the texture of them. I researched this yellow flower and its leaves; every article said it was toxic. But I haven't had any poisoning symptoms, even after drinking that tea for days in a row. I finally found a big long article that explained 'The toxic component in this plant can be neutralized by drying or cooking, then it might work as an analgesic'. And I knew I was okay. Because I was drying and cooking the leaves. I didn't poison myself by sheer luck. And if it was analgesic, the sedation effect made sense as well.

I am so mad these leaves are poison, you know why? They taste sweet. I tried a tiny bit to see if it's violet and it tasted sweet. They called out to me. And the beauty of this tea? Beyond any other tea. Just staring at this tea makes me feel all calm and happy- Look at this!

I was drinking that tea out of the jar for the aesthetics and stared at it hypnotized by its beauty! It looks literally like the most healthy, medicinal, calming magic tea. That is cheating.

I decided in the end, to keep the leaves. Since they're not poisonous dried, and only had a very sedating effect on me, I decided I accidentally discovered a good sedative. I need to keep this witchy tea aesthetics, and using a neutralized poisonous plant I discovered by experimenting on my own body, just makes me so much cooler. But seriously kids don't get poisoned. I'm writing this to tell you that plants are powerful, and they're dangerous, and one should research extensively before trying every herbalist trick they hear about. I of course, will be learning the hard way, but you all should be careful! And I guess have some nettle infusion if you're tired. That shit is crazy.

#herbalism #caution tale #homemade medicne #nourishing herbal infusions #dumbass protagonist #escapes consequences of her actions

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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years ago

Note

I recently read Shades of blue after you rwcommended it and Oh My God was it worth it. That was beautiful and amazing and do you have any other recommendations?

✨MISSIONS ACCOMPLISHED✨

AAAAAA I’m so glad you read it!!! Honestly I’ve been waiting for someone to ask me for recs for awhile because I have.........a few...

Miscellaneous ships here, not just Revalink but the first lot are

- Pinesong by @a-perplexing-puzzle D-Do I even need to explain myself more??? I talk about this fic every other day of the week..... it’s just great vibes....soft and fluffy and angsty just *chef’s kiss* two gay boys searching through their old memories to remember how gay they are

- Shades of Blue by @unapologetically-asexual OK I know original anon just said they read this but for you idiots that haven’t read it yet....uhhhh get on that. Nothing I could say would really advertise this fic better than this post

- somebody’s always looking (nothing’s quite as sweet) by @kouzaires One of my FAV Coffee shop AU’s for botw....so sof......so tender...........so warrmmmmm.............they characters are written so well.....just love it...a lot

- Broken Spirits by @legendoftoad It’s just AAAAAAAAAA??!!? My boys are hurting and the malice for half of it is frickin doing things to my boy and then of course you got your PTSD themes meddled in there and hnnnnnnnnnnhhhhhghgh my hurt/comfort itch is sufficiently scratched go read

- Linger On by ICanFlyHigher [idk if they have a tumblr] Ok I actually haven’t finished this fic yet but it’s been recommended time and time again so I’ve been reading this in my spare time I’m on like Chapter 12 or 13 I think but I can say with CERTAINTY that the writing is fantastic and tender moments are off the charts and my boys are so precious and also the Yiga are actually cool in this so that’s nice

- Learning Flight by homewardbound This is just *chefs kiss* *standing ovation* *throws confetti in the air* quality quality Revalink. Just a delicious chocolate cake of botw and Revalink. You got your mysterious Revali waking up 105 years later batter, and your angsty PTSD gay boys duo chocolate chips, and then you can chuck in some engaging sideplot elements as a few tall tiers, and then the cake is all whipped up with the wooden spoon of subtextual writing just mmmm delicious. and ALSO I betaed a thing that is gonna happen and let me tell you shit is gonna happen like VERY IMPORTANT SUPER COOL plot twists be happening so you better read it

- Conversations After The End Of The World by @bismuthllie Ok this one’s a oneshot but I always go back and read it because...idk it just strums my heart strings a lot...I’ve said Pinesong was my first big Revalink fic I’ce read, but this was like...my first, first piece of Revalink content I read ever so...yeah <3 ....and also the art for this comic is fantastic too even thought it gives me the emotions......hahaha ok Revali it’s time to stop being dead

- I See You Swimming In The Sky by @unavoidablekoishi OK OK I know my logic isn’t the best considering it’s the only Revali/Mipha fic I’ve read, but god dammit it’s the best Revpha fic I’ve ever read I still need to catch up cause I’m like 3 chapters behind but this fic CONVERTED me ok, miphvali went from a “huh yeah the art is nice I can kinda see it” to “THAT FISH IS SIMPING FOR THE BIRD 24/7 AND THEY DESERVE EACH OTHER″ This is some *claps* GOOD. SHIT. Ok? *slaps roof of fic* This bad boy can fit so much charming characterization and interaction (and also has made me scream both happily and not happily on several occasions)

- Guardian of The Wilds by @no-themes-just-memes in which I constantly miscall it “Guardian of the Wild” because I’m stupid This isn’t so much a ship fic but it’s so cool Link is a spirit, Urbosa and Zelda’s mom are a thing, Zelda is HERE and she is AMAZING like no spoilers but holy shit Zelda is here and slaying in more ways than one and riding Satori and hhnnnnhhhhhhhh it’s all about those ~plot twists~ and tone changes ya know? very very very nice...

- Firebird by @paellaplease Oh no, it’s Kip’s obligatory Firebird gush whoopsie poopsie who would have guessed surely not me. This is just my standard for Oc ship content now it’s so good I am gay for one fire girl Maiya is my spirit animal and I just wanna cup her in my hands softly even though I know she would probably burn me for it but it would totally be worth it. The writing is just superb and I am also gay for great imagery and action which this is chalk full of so go read it

Ok it’s actually 2am right now and I still need to finish a bunch of AP work so I’m just gonna speed run the rest of these recs

@echogekkos writes such cute and soft Miphlink fics that are on my top tier list like this one and oh crap this post made me realize Healing Touch updated crap there are so many things I need to read and catch up on anyways want more miphlink angst? BOOM read the inspiration for eternity by Merakkli and oh what’s that? You want deep lore that was custom made with lots of hot ocs in a fic that spans way beyond BOTW welp here’s Hyrule Bound a universe entirely created by @themisadventurescrew which is yet another fic series that I am behind on crap but oh shit @kittmoon has started a chapter fic called Jaded Seas recently so you should go read that but also all of their oneshots are great as well so you should follow them and did I mention that everyone I’ve tagged are people you should follow because yeah anyhow here’s a crackfic about Goron children that had me shaking out of either fear or confusion for a few days by @angsttronaut ok moving on @thatsnotzelda writes beautifully just take a look at this angsty Revalink thing and also bambambambam you’ve been ambushed by @hatenostorms @going-fancognito @ashrel @lizards-writing-blog so now go request some from them because I said so they’re great also uhhh @idiotic-canadian and @moonchildrenn [Pins_and_Patches on ao3] hate happiness but that’s ok because I get to be emotionally wrecked by their angst and whump hurray! wait fUCK I completely forgot to rec this earlier but my first Zelpha fic was this gorgeous Coffeeshop AU by @theseventhsage called Dreaming of Coffee and Love so go read that *flipping through entire history of ao3* let’s see let’s see... All of the Rito Chronicles by sturms_sun_shattered is great, and this Teba/Harth one is also a fav and oh CRAP my zelink content is just everything by @fatefulfaerie because it’s just *throws colorful streamers in the air* pretty and I love their writing welp I’m about to collapse lets just end it off with the z’s like @zzariyo and @zeawesomebirdie on ao3 they are some pretty radical french fries if i do say so myself and and ok ok read this other Zelpha coffee au which is also by @kouzaires and this Modern au also by @unavoidablekoishi ok that’s all I can remember right now bye

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julemmaes · 4 years ago

Text

Honey - part two

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre roommates au

A/N: I’m so tired yall have no idea. My eyes are burning and my fingers are cramping cause I’ve been writing all day to get this done, so yeah, I’m very satisfied and some of the blogs that I consider big or are big for a fact started following me and commented on the first part, so I freaked out a little, but I can tell that I’ll sleep peacefully tonight because of that, so thank you all. Enjoy!:)

Oh, and I almost forgot, the song at the end is called “Honey” and it’s by Johnny Balik (shoker, as my man Kieran would say)

masterlist

Word count: 4,966

Lorcan's least favourite day was definitely Friday, unlike all people his age. Not because he didn't like going out in the city at night to have fun and drink until you forgot even your mother's name, but because it was the only day of the week he had to work at both the shelter and the toy shop.

He loved working with the dogs and the few cats they brought in, and although he wasn't really a people person, he enjoyed spending time deciding with the kids and parents what was the best gift to go home with. And although Lorcan would never admit it out loud, he had grown fond of some of the regulars - especially a mother of three who he knew worked as a lawyer in one of the offices above the shop. Almost every day she would come in during her lunch break to buy one of those surprise sachets that cost a euro each and if Lorcan didn't see her coming before he went on his break, he would wait a few minutes before closing up just for her. Elide had managed to find out this detail a few months later after she moved in and he knew she would never stop teasing him because he had a heart of gold.

The phone vibrated in his hand just as he got behind the wheel and he wasn't at all surprised to see that the last message he had gotten was from Elide.

He huffed, not even opening yet another link that would surely send him to yet another website with information on why the world was ending very slowly and why humans were to be blamed entirely. He started the car and drove off towards their house.

Lorcan wasn't a bad person and he really cared about everything Elide was sending him, but he was tremendously tired and all he could think about was how much he wanted to take a shower and pass out in his bed. The fact that none of this was going to happen because Fenrys and Rowan had forced him to accept the invitation out to dinner made it all worse.

It took him less than ten minutes to get home and when he parked and saw the lights in their living room on, he seriously considered backing up and getting out of there to get to Vaughan's house before Elide noticed his car and he wouldn't be able to get away no more.

He was sure his friend would take him in without question if he asked to put him up for a night.

But luck was not on his side as Elide's petite figure appeared in the window and Lorcan could not see her face, but he knew she was smiling as she bounced and waved to greet him.

Despite everything, Lorcan raised his hand in turn and smiled back at her, knowing full well that even she could not see him so low and hidden by the evening shadows.

As he climbed the sixth flight of stairs and mentally prepared himself for two more, he could foresee the flood of words that would wash over him when he entered the house. Elide hadn't kept quiet for the entire day, sending him voice messages and staying with him on calls for the entire duration of his lunch break, so much so that at one point he had wondered if she had gone to class and then to work. He had discovered that yes, she had gone, but she hadn't paid the slightest attention to what they had explained and had gotten half the customers' orders wrong.

When he opened the front door, he recognized the melody of one of the songs she'd put on her apology playlist, the one he'd made for her nearly three weeks earlier after she'd found out he still smoked. She'd seemed so hurt that after he'd gone to bed and cleaned the tiles of his blood until they glistened, he'd stood at the kitchen table and spent hours and hours searching for the perfect apology songs. A bit dramatic perhaps, but it had had the desired effect.

He sighed, slipping off his jacket and putting it as far away from Elide's as possible, so that no animal hair would get on hers. He would clean it later.

The girl in question sputtered out of the living room with a beaming smile on her face, her cheeks strangely red and her eyes so bright they were glossy, "Hello, handsome."

"Hi, Ellie." he murmured, straightening his back and making the bones in his neck crack. Elide approached and Lorcan took a step back, bumping his back against the door, "I haven't showered yet," he put his hands forward to keep her at arm's length, "you can touch and hug me all you want later, but please not now," he begged her.

She gave the cutest pout he had ever seen, "But-"

"No buts, you can wait three minutes for me to wash up without dying," he continued, walking past her without touching her or making any overly sudden movements.

"You're such a pain in the ass," she complained, that adorable pout deepening all the more, "I can always take the antihistamine if I get allergies."

Lorcan shook his head, turning a confused expression on her, "I'd rather you didn't take medication just because you want to hug me."

It was true.

To their great misfortune, Elide was one of the very few people he knew who was allergic to animal hair. Any animal. More precisely, she was allergic to the mites that lived in the fur and the dust that accumulated in it in enormous quantities even on a normal basis. Given that the dogs Lorcan worked with were left to run loose in the fields all day, when he came home he was covered in anything that could kill his friend and roommate in one sniff and he didn't want to have to take her to the emergency room again because they couldn't tell if she was breathing properly.

It was why every night since he'd started working at the shelter he had taken a shower before doing anything else. It was why their water bill had gone up so much since they had found out about this allergy of hers.

"It's just a pill Lor, it's not like I have to get shots or..." she shrugged, as if to indicate anything more invasive than a simple pill.

He brought his hands in front of his mouth like a prayer, looking her in the eyes, "How many times do I have to explain to you that if you take one type of medicine every day, after a while your body no longer perceives it as an extra foreign thing to help you, but as the norm and so it no longer has any effect?"

Elide grimaced, "I hate you."

He chuckled, walking backwards until he reached the bathroom door, just in case she had the great idea to ambush him and jump on his back, "Just wait five minutes."

"It was three before," she said frowning, "And, speaking of showers-" and then she did something that made Lorcan freeze in his tracks. He didn't register what was going on until Elide's shirt was too high up for him to avoid seeing everything. And by everything, he meant everything.

"Elide what the fuck are you doing?!" he turned around, screaming, then his eyes went wide, trying to figure out if what had just happened was true or not. He squeezed his eyes shut, closing his hands into fists, biting his knuckles, "You're not wearing a fucking bra." he said in a voice sharper than he had intended.

He heard her giggle, but the sound came out muffled, "Loorcaaan." she crooned, "Help."

"I can't turn around Ellie, you're naked," he pointed out to her with his eyes still closed, then in a lower voice, "God, you're naked. What has gotten into you?"

He felt her move as she walked around him and stopped in front of him, "Help." she said in a flat tone. Lorcan had to laugh, her tone reminded him so much of the way the green aliens in Toy Story talked.

"Help what?" he asked letting out an amused laugh.

"I'm stuck." she said slurring her words and he felt her move, she was probably wiggling to get out of her t-shirt. And if she was wiggling, that meant her-

Lorcan took a sharp breath, cursing under his breath and trying to quiet his wandering mind.

He arched an eyebrow, though he was pretty sure she couldn't see him either, as doubt crept into him, "Are you drunk?"

Elide was silent for a while, then giggled like a child, "Just a little tipsy."

"Ellie it's seven o'clock," he exclaimed amused, but surprised to learn that she had been drinking, "why on earth are you drunk at seven?"

"Just a little tipsy," she repeated like a broken record. Then she screeched like a pterodactyl and Lorcan burst out laughing again, turning and taking a step or two forward to avoid risking accidentally touching her once more.

"Alright, why are you just a little tipsy at seven o'clock on a night when we're supposed to be going out with the others?" he asked now a little more eager to know the answer.

He heard her snort audibly, "The world is ending, Lorcan, why won't you understand that?"

He opened his eyes wide, not believing what she was saying, pinning them on the picture their friends had given them for Christmas, the one with all their best pictures collaged on a coloured canvas.

And here he thought he was the dramatic one of the two.

He nodded to himself, "So you're telling me that the reason you decided to get drunk before you even went out is because of global warming?"

He heard a rustle and then something hit him on the head, "Sorry, I didn't mean to slap you," she said in the tone of someone who couldn't care less about having hit him, "Anyway, yeah. Global warming and forests catching fire and animals dying and plastic burning..." she took a deep breath and then continued for a few minutes, making a list of all the things she had learned that afternoon by reading all the articles she could find about why humans were the worst living thing in the world.

Lorcan stood patiently listening to her, occasionally getting lost when she introduced topics that were a little too specific, but listen to her he did. The way she was saying all those things was always reminiscent of the little green aliens, but he knew the subject was more serious than it sounded.

With his arms crossed over his chest, he didn't think he'd moved too much, but at one point Elide sneezed and he cursed himself for not having moved fast enough to go to the bathroom.

"I told you you'd get allergies."

"But I didn't even touch you," she squealed back.

"You know that's not necessary for even your soul to start itching too," he scolded her.

Elide remained silent for a while longer, then started talking again, "And we should seriously get some glass bottles, if I see you with those stupid plastic bottles again I'll kill you. Scout's honor." she threatened him.

Lorcan chuckled, "Elide you've never been in scouts."

"How punctilious of you." she scoffed at him, then gasped, "We could buy matching flasks, with glitter and," she gasped again, sounding increasingly excited, "We could have one of our pictures printed on it."

A smile broke out on Lorcan's lips and he knew that if he had looked in the mirror at that moment he would have seen the face of a boy lost in love. He pulled himself together, straightening his back, trying not to think about how he felt about Elide. It wouldn't have done any good to admit that those feelings were real and tangible inside him.

He was staring at Fenrys' face in one of the pictures they had taken on holiday that summer, when Elide spoke again.

"This is a list of things that should make you understand why we have to shower together."

Lorcan choked on his saliva. He coughed a few times, patting his chest.

How had they gone from polar bears dying from melting ice to them showering together?

"What are you talking about?" he asked her in a squeaky voice.

The fact that she was alluding to them showering together while he knew she was half naked behind him, a breath away practically, made him feel so many different kinds of wrong.

"We can't waste water Lor, it's not hard." she sounded exasperated, then muttered, "Sometimes I really think you're being obtuse or stupid."

Lorcan's eyes went wide, "Wow, thanks Ellie."

"You're welcome." she chipped.

He shook his head, sighing and running a hand over his face, "Don't you think there are plenty of other ways we can start saving the world, before we have to shower together?" he took the fact that she wasn't answering as a cue to continue, "Like start recycling?"

Elide gasped again, making him chuckle, "Did you sign the petition?"

"Which-" he trailed off. She was talking about the petition to have a door-to-door rubbish collection service introduced in their town. Something that would force everyone to sort their garbage. "Yes, I signed it."

"Good." she whispered.

"I signed them all," he reiterated, because it was true and he knew that Elide never sent him stupid petitions, that whatever she sent him must be important and it didn't cost him anything to put his email and name on a website if it meant he could make a difference in his own small way.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." she said in a weak voice.

Lorcan felt strangely uncomfortable all of a sudden.

And not because of the fact that Elide was naked behind him and had just confessed to wanting to shower with him, but because he would have wanted to turn around and kiss her, not do what any other guy would have thought of doing with a half-naked girl. No. Lorcan just wanted to kiss her and take his time in the process, savour the kiss and not be hasty and quick.

He wanted it to be slow and heartfelt, he wanted her to feel every single thing he couldn't say out loud.

"Lorcan?" she whispered, "I'm always stuck and I'm starting to get cold."

He blinked, "Yeah, you're right." then interrupted. They were silent a few seconds, "You really can't pull your shirt down?"

"No."

He took a deep breath. Then another.

"Okay, I'm going to turn around and keep my eyes closed, please stay still so I don't touch- anything. I'm not touching anything. I'll try to help you." he stammered, clasping his hands along his sides. She made a simple grunt of assent and he huffed, raising his hands in the air and lowering them slowly until he touched her head. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and then released the elbow that had gotten stuck in her shirt.

"Yay." exclaimed Elide.

Sensing that she was moving freely on her own, Lorcan pulled away again and when the sound of clothes stopped, he asked, "Are you done?"

"Yes," she said singing.

His shoulder sagged a little and he smiled. He opened his eyes, ready to move Elide to the side and go take that holy shower, but whatever he'd thought when he'd asked if she was done must have been the exact opposite of what she'd thought, because Elide's tits were freer than ever between the two of them.

Lorcan grunted, slapping a hand over his face to cover his eyes, "What the fuck, Ellie. Stop flashing me, I'm begging you."

He heard her giggle and then a gust of wind and her laughter fading down the corridor let him know she had run off. He opened his eyes tentatively, peering through his fingers to make sure she wasn't still in front of him and sighed with relief when he finally managed to get into the bathroom and lock the door behind him.

He leaned against the sink, clutching the ceramic between his fingers and staring at his reflection in the mirror.

He never thought the first time he would see Elide's tits would be under these circumstances. He ran a hand over his face again, trying to somehow erase the image he knew he would never forget.

He had just stepped into the shower when he heard something very large and heavy slam against the door. Something that seconds later burst out laughing. Lorcan could only follow as he imagined a half-naked Elide running towards the bathroom and failing to stop in time.

"Are you alright, honey?" he asked her just in case. He turned on the water, hissing when he found it frozen, but not moving from under the jet. After all, a cold shower wouldn't hurt him.

"Let me in." she shouted, slamming her fist against the door, "Let me iiin!"

"Are you dressed?"

"No."

"Then you can't come in."

A scream of despair followed by what could only be a fake hysterical cry made him burst out laughing again, but then for a few minutes all that was heard was the sound of the shower and water falling from his hair.

"Ellie, are you still there?"

The answer came quickly, "Yes."

"Are you still naked?"

"Maybe." then he heard her move against the door and realised she'd been sitting on the floor.

Perfect, he was stuck in there. He reached for the phone and thought of something.

As he finished untangling the knots in his hair and washing out the conditioner, Elide was talking about how harmful the soaps they used were and had even gone so far as to say that they should both shave their heads so as to minimise their impact on the environment.

"What did you do today?" she asked him suddenly.

Lorcan didn't answer, dialling the number of a certain blonde girl who could help him out of this situation. Aelin answered after the fifth ring and Lorcan knew full well that she had done it on purpose, hoping he would hang up so she wouldn't have to talk to him.

"Hello?"

"Listen, something kind of weird happened and I need-"

"Who is this?" Lorcan arched an eyebrow, pulling his ear away from the phone to check the number. It was Aelin's phone. And the chick's voice on the other end was her, he was sure of it. "God, Lorcan, I'm fucking with you, what's up?"

"Funny," he deadpanned, "Elide's already drunk."

"What? But it's not even eight o'clock."

"I know, I came home and she was already like that."

A few moments of silence passed, "Okay, and what do you want me to do?"

"Well, she took her shirt off at one point."

Lorcan waited for a reaction, but Aelin didn't respond.

"And now she's naked in the hallway and blocking the bathroom door and-"

"She's what?" the friend burst out laughing.

"She's naked," he gritted through his teeth, "And she's blocking the bathroom door. I don't know how to get out and I don't want to open the door and push her off and risk hurting her. Is there any way you could come over here and help her? Help me?"

"I’ll make sure she'll never hear the end of it." Aelin laughed louder and Lorcan heard Rowan ask her what was going on. The blonde took breaths before saying, "Ellie flashed Lorcan and how he's stuck in the bathroom because he's afraid of a pair of nice-looking boobies."

"So are you planning on coming?" he asked before he completely lost his patience.

He imagined her wiping tears from under her eyes, "Yes, we'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"We?"

"Me, Ro and Fen. He's the one driving tonight and he picked us up."

"Okay," Lorcan murmured, "but they can't come up to the house."

"Why?" drawled Aelin, "Because you're jealous?"

He counted to ten, restraining himself from hanging up on her, "No, because this is going to be humiliating enough for Elide without two more of her friends seeing her half naked, so please just come up alone."

Aelin huffed, "You're right, but you're no fun."

They said their goodbyes and Lorcan put the phone down, starting to blow dry his hair.

"Lorcan."

Elide hadn't stopped saying his name for half a second throughout the call and it was starting to annoy him. Then he shook his head, no. He wasn't annoyed by Elide, it was Aelin.

That girl could get under his skin like few could.

"What?"

"You didn't tell me what you did today."

And Lorcan did, so that at least she would stop slamming her hand against the door.

He told her about the last man who'd come to see what dogs he could give his daughter and how he'd seemed so much like the guy who'd abandoned them on the side of the road after not even a week and it had pissed him off. He told her the morning had been even worse, because one of the children had started opening all the toys on display and his mother, who had been right next to him the whole time with her eyes fixed on the phone screen, hadn't stopped him and it had been up to Lorcan to tell him he couldn't do it. It was only then that the woman had realised what a mess it was and had simply apologised to him, running out of the shop so fast that he hadn't even noticed they had left. He had to call his manager and he was not exactly pleased to hear this story, but he also said that they would donate the toys to the church down the street, which was responsible for distributing them to kindergartens in the neighbourhood. That cheered him up a little.

By the time he had finished his story, Aelin had arrived and once he had taken her to her room. Lorcan could finally go out and get ready himself.

***

It was after midnight, the entire group was rocking out on the dance floor of their favorite outdoor club, a place called "The Wild Night" that was on the edge of town, closer to the forest than anything else, and normally Lorcan would have joined his friends to dance and sing, but there was a problem.

A big, huge, handsome problem.

And the problem was called Kyllian.

He couldn't figure out whose idea it had been to invite the boy with them that night, but whoever it was, this person's days were numbered, because Lorcan would kill them first and then use the limbs of their corpse to kill Kyllian.

Kyllian who had now been rubbing up against Elide for hours and who had offered her more drinks than stupid charming grins - and he really was reserving a lot of those for her.

"If you don't stop looking at him like that you're going to make his head explode," someone said, throwing themselves onto the small bench next to him.

He turned his head so fast he wondered how he had managed not to break his neck, "What are you talking about?"

Fenrys arched an eyebrow, "Even if you weren't staring at Kyllian like you wanted to see him disappear off the face of the earth, everyone here, including Elide," he told him with so much as a glare, giving him a slight shove, "would know that you're not really into what's going on on that dance floor."

"He's right," Rowan said to his left, sipping the drink of Aelin's she'd left him. When the hell had he sat there?

Lorcan didn't answer, remaining motionless with his sullen expression.

"I can give you a hand if you want," Fenrys murmured, sucking on the fuchsia straw sticking out of his equally pink glass.

He inhaled through his nose, "And how would you do that?"

"You have to trust me."

"Never." said Lorcan as Rowan said at the same time, "Don't."

Fenrys looked at them both with his mouth wide open and a hand to his chest, "I'm hurt." then finished what was left of the drink in one gulp and stood up abruptly, staggering a little, but holding himself up nonetheless. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the two boys still sitting, grinning, and Lorcan knew immediately what was going to happen.

"Ellie!" he shouted, turning more heads than necessary, "Love of my life!"

Kyllian pulled away from Ellie just enough for Fenrys to grab her hand and spin her around a few times until she burst out laughing and begged him to stop. The new boy didn't even seem to exist anymore as his best friend laced her arms around Fenrys' hips and rocked left and right, increasingly drunk.

Lorcan's heart clenched in his chest as he heard that sound so carefree, so happy.

He didn't realise he was smiling until Rowan cackled beside him, "God, you're fucked."

He didn't pay any attention to him and stood up, keeping his gaze fixed on her face.

He heard Lysandra and Aelin calling his name, hyping him up and threw them a real, quick smile that made them scream even louder, as if they were fans at one of his concerts. When he finally reached Fenrys and Elide's side, the blond spun her around ninety degrees and for a moment she closed her eyes, giggling, intoxicated by the amount of alcohol she had ingested, but when she opened them again and saw Lorcan standing in front of her, a smile as wide as he had ever seen it spread across her face.

"I'll leave you Ellie, you're in good hands," Fenrys told her, winking at him from above her head.

But neither of them even looked at him.

His eyes locked into hers as they both took a step forward and found themselves a caress away. Her chest rose and fell in an agitated rhythm. After all, she'd been dancing with everyone for hours, so much so that Lorcan wondered how she hadn't thrown up yet.

His gaze ran over her body, her bare shoulders, the line of her collarbones, and further down between her breasts. Breasts he'd had the chance to see for a millisecond a few hours before and remembered perfectly. The darker shade of pink that had characterized her-

"Lorcan."

He felt his heart pounding in his throat.

She had never said his name like that.

His eyes went up, sliding over lips so full, so perfect, up, over her nose and then up again, finding hers and the music changed, becoming slower, the lights dimmed as the strobes were turned off. Elide seemed to recognise the tune as her lips parted slightly, "Lor," she repeated. He raised a hand until his knuckles brushed her cheek and when she let go a shuddering breath, Lorcan began to sing under his breath.

"Tell me everything and hold no lies. Say you're waiting for better skies," he leaned forward as his other hand slid to her hip and Elide moved closer, until their bodies were fully joined to each other and one of her legs was between his and their hips were one thing moving in sync with the music. He felt Elide's breath against his neck and had to suppress a shudder when she too began to sing along with him.

"Oh, but honey don't taste like summer no more. Stick around now, I miss you every night,"

He lowered his head even more, brushing her nose with his own. The hand that had been on her cheek had slipped over her shoulder and was now tracing the path down her back, grazing the top of her bottom until it rested on her hip.

"Elide," he whispered, breathing on her lips. She closed her eyes, pushing herself up, towards him, and Lorcan held her tighter, moving his fingers over the exposed skin between her miniskirt and the black top she was wearing and there he was. Elide was there, with him, and she was so close to his body that he could feel the heart beating in her chest.

She was there and the next second... she wasn't. Because Elide had snapped away and was now vomiting on his feet. Lorcan held his breath as she was shaken by another gag and he had just enough time to take a step back that she threw up again.

The people around them quickly scampered away, creating a small circle of spectators and casting a quick glance at his friends he saw that they had a large audience. He just hoped Elide was too drunk to remember what happened the next day.

He looked down and grimaced, all sorts of emotions swirling inside him as the girl he loved clutched at him and puked her dinner all over his clothes.

He cursed at whoever decided how things went for breaking the best moment of his life with vomit and then gathered her hair into a loose ponytail, tying it with an elastic band he kept on his wrist specifically for these occasions.

He heard her whimper and put both hands on her shoulders, stroking her in circular motions to help her warm up. Aelin and Lysandra appeared next to them shortly after and when Ellie was firm enough on her feet to walk, they stepped over the pool of vomit and Lorcan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pushing her towards the exit.

"Let's go home, Ellie."

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send an ask)

@tottenhamboys20 @maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @ladywitchling @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @anne-reads @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @simping4bookboisngrls @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @miserablemusings @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass

#elorcan #tog fic #throne of glass #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elorcan roommates au #fluff #elorcan fluff #elorcan fic #rowan whitethorn #fenrys moonbeam #aelin galathynius #honey

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