#i need to finish a knit tonight but hands are too cold.

[nordfjording]

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[wtfsteveharrington]

I need a just the tip smut with richie jerimovich

a/n: richie my beloved <3 thank you for requesting!!

contents: richie's a menace and badgering the reader in a playful way, unprotected p in v, fingering, semi public (we all love that damn office), reader referred to as princess once. when i say this is a quickie i mean it!

word count: 1,420 (lol)

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

Richie annoyed you - A lot. Constantly annoyed you in fact!

And things haven’t improved since you made out with in the heat of the moment a few months ago. Arguing outside the restaurant after a particularly rough dinner service. He blamed the way you ran front of house, you blamed him for sending table 18’s second course to table 31 (which he promises he didn’t do) and throwing off the flow of the kitchen.

There was a moment when the arguing turned to silence and the two of you staring at each other. Both trying to read the moment. You still don't know who moved first but it was passionate, sloppy, and seared into your memory.

Thus began a mess of touching and kissing when you shouldn't be. It hadn't gone all the way yet, much to Richie's dismay. The closest he got was eating you out in the backseat of his car which you promptly left after you finished and flipped him off as you skipped to your own car. Richie had to drive home hard and annoyed and teasingly gave you a cold shoulder the next day but you'd catch a wicked grin on his face whenever he turned away from you. Both of you loved this game.

You secretly loved the power it gave you when he'd beg and whine and grab any inch of skin you'd let him. Rutting himself against you, shamelessly needy. You made him feel like a teenager again. Stuck with the urge to fold his pillow around his length and fuck into it to get some source of friction besides his hand. It made him feel pathetic and you feel pride.

He loved it too, don't let him lie to you.

That's how you found yourself in the nice office, hips pressed against the edge of the desk while Richie stood behind you. His hands were cupping your breasts over your shirt, savoring the weight of them in his hands while he grinds against your ass. You, on the other hand, try to act unbothered while you look over paperwork even if the both of you know it's getting to you. Thighs turning slick and warm and God he feels good.

“C’mon, Babe. My dick is fuckin’ rock solid. Help me out, yeah? Don’t you want me focused for tonight or are you really gonna let everyone drown because you won’t help take care of ole Richie?” He’s grabbing a hold of the hem of your skirt, pushing it up at your waist and admiring the way your ass looked covered in some white lacey number you totally didn’t buy with the hopes of him seeing it.

You huff and pretend to be inconvenienced but you're reaching the end of your resolve too. Letting go of the papers you were hyper focused on and instead sliding your hands around your body and pulling your underwear to the side so he, finally, has access to you. There's a loud, drawn out groan coming from the man behind you which has you whipping your head around with a sharp, "Shut the fuck up, Richie."

He's looking up at you now and innocently holds his hands up in the air as an apology. There's wicked smirk as one of his hands come down to trace over your core. A rough finger dragging along the folds, bumping your clit before he presses two into you. "Knew you wanted me too, Princess." You can't help but roll your eyes, still adjusting your position on the desk so you're better able to arch your ass back towards him. "Just the tip."

Richie's motions stall, brows knitting together. "You fuckin' serious?" Which makes you laugh while you roll your hips back, chasing your own pleasure by using his hand that's still against your warm core. "Serious. Now - Just the tip and hurry up before we get caught. Think I'd die if anyone knew I was letting you fuck me raw in here."

His hand slides out of you and delivers a sharp smack to your pussy before he's taking your command and making quick work of his pants. Fine, if you wanted to play this game still he'd make sure to drive you just as insane as you were driving him.

You feel the head of his cock tapping against you now, teasing the both of you by rocking himself against your clit. "You're tryna give me shit but you're this fuckin' wet? Bent over the desk and begging. Play tough all you want but you need me."

"Jesus Christ, Richie. Are you gonna keep running your mouth or fin- Oh!" He's cutting you off as you feel him push into you. The head of his cock barely tucked between your folds as you both adjust to the sensation. He's giving you a second before pushing in another in, letting the tip of him rest snug inside of you.

Richie's rubbing his hands over your ass, the texture difference between your smooth skin and the lace of your underwear driving him crazy. Fine, maybe he was clowning you at first but there's something so... Intimate about this. Or maybe you just already had him whipped and he was hopeless.

He's fucking into you just barely, fully content to play along if that’s what it took to finally find himself inside of you.

There’s a pounding on the door snapping you both out of it. Richie’s startled and accidentally sinking a few more inches into you, both of you fighting every urge to moan. “Dinner service starts in twenty! Finish up your paperwork and get out here!”

You're in the clear. No door handle jiggling, no one barging in.

Everyone knew you took some time right before dinner to ensure there were no missed allergies, reservations, and nothing running short. Everyone knew Richie would take off his suit jacket so it didn't smell like smoke before taking a few minutes out back to burn through some cig's. Splashing on cologne from his car before coming back in. They all probably assumed he was somewhere in that circuit out back.

But yet, here you two actually were.

The two of you stand there, still connected, in silence for a moment. Making sure the coast is clear before continuing this already risky game. Once a few seconds have passed, neither of you know quite what to do.

So you take the initiative.

Rolling your hips back and fucking yourself on the few inches Richie has managed to sink into you. His hands are on your ass now, pulling it apart so he can get a better look at the head of his cock slowly pushing in and out of you. Neither of you dare make too loud of a sound.

Your head falls forward, pressing your mouth against your upper arm to muffle any sounds that threaten to slip out when Richie pulls all the way back just to resink himself halfway in. It's a quick motion but the sound of him just barely gliding through your wetness was sinful. Richie's torn between throwing his head back and savoring the sensation or focusing on what's happening right in front of him, "Fuck you, gonna make me come like this." He's squeezing at the handfuls of your ass, fighting the urge to bury himself completely but knows that isn't your game for now.

You can feel his resolve breaking so you decide to prolong this game. Giving him a squeeze of your muscles around his cock before leaning all the way forward so Richie has to slide out of you. His jaw goes slack and you hear a breathless whine from behind you as he instantly wraps a fist around himself to keep the feeling going. Your underwear are getting put back in place, skirt being folded down as you grab a towel from the pile of clean laundry in the corner of the office and hand it to him with a smirk. "Use this to finish in, don't make a mess of your suit."

Richie can't decide if he loathes you or wants to kiss the ground you walk on. You lean up, letting your lips work his jaw for a moment as you feel the head of his cock press against your thigh while he continues to jack himself off. "Don't fuck up tonight and I'll let you come home with me."

You pull back, throwing him a wink before sneaking out of the office door to go clean yourself up before dinner service. Leaving Richie standing there fucking himself into a rag and laughing at the mess you've made of him.

[thatgirlsza]

Where is my Husband?♡

Ryoumen Sukuna x fem reader

Fluff, pregnancy, family

You slip your shoes off, wiping the top of your forehead with the back of your hand. The spring heat creeps up your skin more and more often as the day passes, and you reconsider if letting your huge husband hold you at night is a good idea. Speakin' of, you wanted to update him, so you advanced into the house, checking your shared room and his meeting room. The kitchen, all his usual places. even outside by the vendor, where he sat when it got too hot inside.

To no avail, you can't find him, and you wonder if he was out working or out of character. Sukuna was a diligent man who worked on his time, but he would never let his wife worry a single hair on her head about his whereabouts. About an hour ends with you looking, waiting, and hoping he would show up, until your stomach navigates you to the kitchen. You had been hungry ever since coming home, but you were looking for Ryoumen the entire time. Maybe he would come out if he smelled food.

As you began to make your bowl of cold noodles, you took your foot steps, your small face lighting up, hoping it was your husband, but instead you saw Uraume strool in with their head down. You sigh and turn back to your pot, and they can't help but smile. "What's the matter, Miss?" They ask settling to help you cut the carrots. You didn't protest but instead spoke openly with them. "I can't find the Lord of the House, and I need to go fetch our son from school soon. I wanted to tell him about my appointment before he took up all his time. I know he tends to worry a lot about me and the baby.You smile softly, thinking of how achy your feet will feel tonight after all this walking and the bump on your tummy.

Uraume just smiled beside you and placed the knife down. "Well, madam, I'd like to show you something that will definitely make you happy. I'll get on with the stuff to finish your meal in the meantime. While I do that, I suggest you head to your son's room." Knitting your brows together, you gave them a mystery glance as they smiled, a little too mischievously. Nevertheless, you reluctantly agree, wiping your hands, walking out of the kitchen, and heading towards the bedrooms. In the long hall, all the doors were open wide except the one leading to your son's room. It closed shut, and a gust of warm air breezed in from the bottom of the door. "Had he come from home early?" you wonder going onto your knees and pulling at the door.

To your surprise, there your son was, eyes shut and a small towel on his forehead as if he had a fever, but that wasn't what shocked you. On top of him lay a huge, familiar arm covered in tattoos. It was attached to your sleeping husband how you cuddled up to your son like a lioness protecting her cub. Smiling, you softly shuffled towards them both. Your lips grazed both their foreheads before you cuddled up beside them and let the warm wind sweep you into an afternoon nap.

[anjelicawrites]

The lost honor of Badger's crossing

Paring: Abraham x reader

Synopsis: you are adjusting to your life as Abraham’s wife. Everything seems to be perfect, when two strangers come knocking.

Warnings: reader has burn marks, angst, fighting, Abraham’s possessiveness, reference to arson, reference to murder, reference to prejudice against the Romanichal community, kissing, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, kissing, scratching, overstimulation, conceive kink if you squint your eyes.

A/N 1: I don’t know anyone from the Romanichal community and used Google for my research for this fic. I tried to be as accurate and respectful as possible. Please let me know if I’ve written something wrong so I can make the needed corrections!

A/N 3: Abraham doesn’t have a surname, I had to use Google to look for Romanichal surnames and pick one.

A/N 3: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed, they/them pronouns used.

Abraham stares at you with a small smile on his face as you put some more wood inside the stove; the vardo is paneled with thick wood, but you like to be warm all the time, for this reason you're wearing one of his oldest cardigans: a ratty thing you had stitched back together with love and patience, that you wouldn't let him wear outside but it's perfect to stay indoors while doing chores. 

NSFW and 18 + only under the cut!

Quickly you finish putting together his lunch and give him the tight knotted cloth, hoping the food will not get too cold by the time he eats it. 

His big hands cover yours and he kisses your forehead gently; Abraham is such a different man in the privacy of your vardo, more affectionate and less aggressive than anyone has the luck to see him.

“Are you staying here today?”

You can see the worry in his eyes, he doesn't like when you wander around on your own, even flanked by the dog he bought for your safety. 

“Yes, I have so much work accumulated I will have my hands full for the whole day.” 

You’ve been elbow deep in your own old book trades, the only thing you bought with you from your old life, that you let the normal chores slip a bit and you don't want anyone to think that you're not taking care of your husband properly. 

“Good.”

His warm lips find yours in a deep kiss and you have to force yourself not to slip out of your clothes: the horses need him, he has his share of work to carry out. 

He's near the door when you stop him hastily. 

“Wait! Put this on, it's awfully chilly already!”

You wrap his long neck in the warm scarf your adopted mother knitted for you when you were a child, using thick, red wool and a simple, yet elegant, pattern. 

“You worry too much.” He jokes, but you can see in his eyes that he appreciates your care. 

“It is my job, you know. Take care of you.”

“My perfect little wife.” He growls, his free hand lands on your hip to grab the soft meat there. 

“Oh no Mr. Heron. Off you go!” You laugh as you walk backwards deeper in the vardo. “I’ll see you later!”

He stares at you with a burning stare that tells you he's not going to let you sleep tonight. 

The commotion happens later in the afternoon. You’ve been a busy bee for the whole day: doing the accumulated washing up, deep cleaning the vardo and cooking yourself a quick lunch. You had just put the heatless curlers in your hair and pulled out your sewing kit to start working on the random array of ruined socks that needed some mending, before the sun sets, that you hear shouting outside and the dog at your feet starts growling.

You step out of the vardo and mingle with the women standing behind the wall of men partially shielding you all; you can still see the two men dressed in cheap suits and the car they drove to the field where you are all currently living.

Between the shouting and the drove of buzzing chatting all around you, you can barely make out what the men are saying and froze when you pick up that they are policemen and they are looking for you; when they shout your maiden name, your instinct is to step up, but Mrs. Lee grabs your arm to stop you from moving and her husband shouts that there’s no one with that name living in the community: it is a technicality, you’re now Mrs. Heron and those men don’t know that, yet, but they will.

Without having spoken to them you know they will come back with questions about Badger’s Crossing.

You scuttle back into the vardo to curl on the bed and cry: for how long will that place hang over your heads? 

You catch a whiff of Abraham’s aftershave and the tears come out harder: you wish he was here to keep you safe in his arms, but you know it’s better that he wasn’t around: he’s so protective of you and aggressive with the outside world, that you fear he would attack those men and put himself in a ocean of troubles just to keep them off your scent. 

He’s not going to like any of this: you know he’s deluded himself into thinking that the matter with Badger’s Crossing had been resolved, but it’s always going to come back and haunt the whole community, even though none of them had anything to do with it.

Your fears have been proven right when he enters the vardo like a storm; likely Mr. Lee has already spoken with him and he’s charged himself up with rage, which explodes in a shouting match between you two.

“You’re not talking to these men!” 

He orders and boy how much that doesn’t sit right with you!

“You don’t tell me what to do Abraham!”

“You are my wife! You will do as I say!”

“I’m not your possession! And I do whatever I feel it’s better!”

“This is not your decision! The community will decide what’s better!”

This is something you still struggle with: you are used to shoulder the consequences on your own, make your bed and lie on it, as your adopted mother used to say, do what you think it’s right regardless of what others think (and if you hadn’t followed this mindset, you would have never met Abraham in the first place), now you have to do the polar opposite. You understand that your circumstances have changed, that gadji see the community, not the person and all excuses are valid to perform violence and persecution, but those policemen came for you and, to protect the community, you should do your part, even though the idea makes you sick.

You go to the assembly still angry at Abraham and stand stiffly by his side, only to slip away as soon as voices are raised: you know where this is going and you know you’re going to say something you’re going to regret.

You walk to the edge of the camp, Cyril the dog flanking you the way Abraham teached him and you scratch his head; the animal is still young but he’s big, a mongrel with some shepherd dog in him, by the way he tries to move you towards the path he thinks it’s the safest for you to walk.

You can hear in the distance the sounds of the assembly and you desperately wish for a pack of smokes.

“Penny for your thoughts’” Mrs. Lee says from behind you and you jump out of your skin.

“Jesus Christ!”

“I didn’t mean to scare you child. I didn’t see you back there, I thought you wanted to express your opinion on the matter.”

You try to look into her eyes but darkness has fallen and you can barely make out her form.

“If I were to voice what I think, I would regret the words immediately.”

You can’t see Mrs. Lee, but you can sense her gaze weightining you. She’s an impressive woman who commands respect not because she’s married the head of the community, but because she exudes a charisma you’ve rarely felt from other people. 

You’re not sure she likes you, she’s accepted you and helped you when you had no one else, like everyone else has done, but you wonder if she just did it out of affection for Abraham, or if she saw something in you.

You often ponder about this matter, if Abraham’s extended family simply tolerates you because he’s imposed you to them through marriage; on some levels you know you’ll always be the gadja that’s now living in their community, who tries to adapt but will always be something else, bought up following a different set of rules.

“What would you say that’s so scandalous, child?”

You take a deep breath and try to organize your thoughts.

“There shouldn’t even be a discussion happening at the moment: those people came calling for me, I should address whatever issue they have with me.”

“It became ours when you joined us. And we were at Badger’s Crossing as well.”

“None of us did anything wrong!” “Are you so naive to think that truly matters?”

The ice in her voice stops you: you still forget that the privilege you grew up with has never extended to them.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” You hang your head. “I still don’t think pretending I don’t live here or, God forbid, leave, will solve the problem. Those men will come back time and time again, until they’ve got what they’re after.”

Mrs. Lee hums and you feel her heavy gaze on you again.

“We should have never stopped in Badger’s Crossing, it was never part of our atching tan: we should have known better and now it’s our problem to shoulder, not yours alone, child. You didn’t bring that in our lives, if that’s what you fear, it oozed in our direction the second we stopped.”

You let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“I don’t trust the police.” You tell Mrs. Lee. “Half of the problems at Badger’s Crossing would have been solved if our constable had done something. I don’t know why they want to talk to me, but they didn’t come guns blazing, perhaps if they get what they’re after, they’ll leave us be.”

Mrs. Lee's hand curls around yours; her palm is dry and work hardened, still is gentle and holds the faint memory of your birth mother’s touch.

“I’ll talk to my husband, just promise me you will not do anything without talking to him. The discussion is still ongoing.” She clutches your hand tightly. “You should do the same with your husband. He means well.”

“I know he does. We’re both stubborn like mules.”

When you get back to the vardo Abraham is nowhere in sight, he is still discussing the matter at hand, probably, and you wish a final word hasn’t been said on the matter.

You enter and go to the stove and put some more wood in there, before you light some candles and start undressing.

The vardo is bigger than the one Abraham used to live as a bachelor and far more decorated than the masculine, but simply furnished old vardo even was: you two want to expand your family and will need the space one day.  

You two had decorated it as newlyweds, you wanted more colors and painted all the wooden paneling with botanical designs and put pretty fabric everywhere, Abraham letting you because he knew he couldn’t stop you and helped you with all the patience he had: it had truly been a work of patience to live in an ongoing project and isn’t that the perfect metaphor for marriage? Still you don’t want to talk to him right now because you’re reeling from the fight and how he addressed you as his property and not his wife, the memory stroking anger and sadness in your chest, so much so that you can feel the tears already forming in your eyes: you need to sleep on this before you can even start to think about addressing the situation with him.

Abraham comes back later to the silent vardo. The fire is dying in the stove and the air is not as chilly as he thought it would be; you’ve left all the stubs of candles you two own to illuminate the vardo for him and he smiles at your thoughtfulness. He undresses as quietly as he can and slips inside the bed, next to your form.

You’re facing the wall and pretend to be asleep, you don’t see the way Abraham’s hand lifts towards your form, before he turns on his side to try and sleep a handful of hours: if he were a more courageous man, he knows he would curl his arm around your sleeping body, making sure that you know he’s still here for you, your fight be damned, but he fears your rage and can’t stand your rejection, not today, not when the world of the gadji came back to hurt you and he’s afraid of not being able to protect you.

So close, he had been so close in Badger’s Crossing to lose you, he feels like the air is escaping his lungs at the mere thought of harm befalling you: he needs to keep you safe, whether you want it or not, he’s too selfish to think of a life without you, why can’t you see it?

You wake up alone and cold, not because the stove isn’t burning, Abraham left it going at full mast and he’s put some more covers over you, but because you haven’t slept in his arms as usual and it feels wrong, as it had been going to sleep still angry at one another. You and Abraham haven’t been married for too long, shy of a year and you don’t want that to happen ever again.

You quickly eat your breakfast, your heart swelling when you see that Abrahams has brewed tea and left the pot on the stove to keep it warm for you: you will talk to him as soon as he gets back, loathing that the fight has lasted this long.

You feel the nervous energy pervading the whole camp and are glad that your chores are outside, for the day, having decided to go look for mushrooms and special herbs for old Mrs. Doe: she’s ancient and her poor knees and ankles don’t work anymore the way they should, you’re happy to help her any way you can. 

You’ve been walking for the good part of three hours, Cyril unleashed but never wandering around and with a big basket at your hip, full of mushrooms and herbs. 

To go back home you have to walk the last leg on the country road and leash Cyril just in case: there aren't many cars around but you don’t want to risk it.

You’ve almost arrived when you see the two policemen, they are smoking next to their car parked on the curb and are eyeing the road.

“Mrs. Heron, it has been difficult finding you.”

As you approach you can observe them: the one addressing you is tall and lanky, with a long, thin face and piercing eyes, his colleague is as tall but bulky, with a fat face and small, dark eyes.

“Who are you?” You stop at a distance and Cyril stands in front of you.

“I’m DCI Anderson and this is DS Thomas. We would like to have a word with you about Badger’s Crossing.”

You stiffen, even though you expected that to happen.

“There’s nothing to talk about. The whole matter was sorted by the coroner.”

“I still would like to talk to you. I’m curious to understand what happened.”

Both men are moving closer to you and your first instinct is to step back, keep the distance between you three.

“I think you can easily access all the documents you need. If you don’t mind, I have some work that needs to be done.”

“Actually, we do mind.” 

As if on a cue from his boss, DS Thomas’s hand curls around your wrist, stopping you from sidestepping them, Cyril growls at him.

“Keep that mongrel at bay!” He barks.

“Then keep your hands off me!”

You try to pull your arm away and his hold only tightens painfully.

“There’s no reason for violence. We’re here to help. We're all friends: let Mrs. Heron go.”

The brute does as he’s told and that’s all you need to know about their dynamic.

“As much as the paperwork was informing, I very much like to know what had happened from one of the survivors, and why you left.”

“I don't wish to revisit that and it's none of your business the reason why I don't live there anymore.”

You don't like this DCI Anderson, the more you look into his eyes, the more the coldness there seeps into your bones. 

“We decide what's our business, not you.”

DS Thomas barks in your face and your mind goes to the small knife in your pocket. 

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“No one is accusing anyone of anything, Mrs. Heron. I'm just curious to know why an Oxford graduate decided to change their life so drastically.”

“Then again, not a crime. We all need a change of scenery.”

DCI Anderson stares at you with unreadable eyes and you know he’s like those dogs who don’t stop chasing their prey until they’ve grabbed it. 

“Take my card, Mrs. Heron, there’s my phone number, if you ever need it. I'm not here to cause you any harm.”

“There’s no need for that:”

You three were so focused  that you didn't see Mr. Lee and some of the other men arrive; you use the sheer number of them to put as much distance between the policemen and yourself: hopefully they’ll let you go.

“Don’t be afraid to ask for our help, Mrs. Heron!” DCI Anderson says with a cold voice. 

Someone takes the basket from you as Mr. Lee asks you if you're alright; you don't truly know what to answer, something in the interaction irks you. 

As soon as you all arrive at the vardo, you can see Abraham pacing in front of the door. 

“What are you doing here? Is everything alright?” You blurt out. 

“Did they hurt you?”

His hands land on your arms and curl there to stop himself from checking all over you in front of the whole camp. 

“How? Abraham? I'm fine.” You half lie to him. 

“I’ve sent Paul’s children to collect him. We need to discuss this.” Mr. Lee interjects. 

“Yes, of course.” You say, opening the door of the vardo.

The two men sit around the table and you wish you were alone with your husband: now, more than ever, you need the comfort of his embrace. 

“Cuppa?” You ask, unable to sit still. 

“Thank you.” Mr. Lee answers

You zone out from the conversation and focus on what you're doing in the vain attempt to understand what irked your brain so much. 

Like an automaton you fill the kettle and put it on the stove, the drone of the men's voice not truly entering your brain as you try to decide which tea to brew and which biscuit to offer to Mr. Lee. 

“They think you stole me.” 

You say, putting the tray with the teas on the table, cutting through the men’s discussion. 

This is an old habit of yours, losing yourself in your thoughts to simply blurt them out, something both your birth and adoptive mothers used to scold you about

“That horrible DCI saying that he wants to help me. Yes, he wants to know about Badger’s Crossing, but he thinks you’ve taken me against my will, even married me into the community in the same fashion.”

The two men stare at you as if you’ve sprouted a second head. 

“That's why he was so pushy yesterday and ambushed me today. He believes me captive.”

Abraham stands up abruptly, almost sending the tea set flying around the vardo. 

“I’m going to kill him!”

“You're not going to do such a stupid thing, son!”

Mr Lee is already on his feet, back against the door of the vardo, ready to stop Abraham from doing something stupid. 

“It is not the worst thing gadji accused us of. They have no honor, they can't understand.” Mr. Lee adds. 

“That's why I need to talk to them.” 

You stand in front of your husband with one hand on his beating heart, Mr. Lee stands behind you, forgotten. 

“I'm not letting them steal you away!”

Panic and rage tinge your husband's voice, more than ever you wished you two were alone. 

“I'm not going anywhere but the matter needs to be addressed or it would truly appear as if I am a prisoner here.”

“Do you truly think those men will believe you?” Mr. Lee stares at you dubiously. 

“The only opinion that matters is that horrid DCI’s, the DS is just his guard dog, I don't even think he has a brain.” You pause to let the information sink in. “And me not being a romni could probably help: they’ll never believe any of you, they might me.”

You can feel Abraham's chest vibrate under your palm, his strong muscles shifting. 

“If they put a hand on you!” He growls. 

You hope no one will ever tell him that's already happened. 

“No one shall ever touch your bride, not with all of us ready to protect them.” Mr. Lee says. 

“No, that can't happen or it will truly look like I am not free to talk with them. And I don't want them in our space.”

“I'm not letting you be alone at their mercy. It is not negotiable.”

You recognise the possessive tone in Abraham's voice, understand that's his way to express his concern, and guilt envelops you like a blanket: he shouldn’t be suffering for you. He shouldn’t live in fear for you.

“The clearing is surrounded by trees.” Mr. Lee’s voice is reasonable. “We can easily hide there, they'll never see us.”

Abraham keeps you in his arms, after Mr. Lee leaves, his masculine smell, mixed with the horses’, fills your nostrils and calms you.

“Do you have to go back?” Your question is muffled against the wool of his jacket.

“No, Ben and his children can manage for today.”

Abraham’s arms tighten around your body, his face finds home against the curve of your neck.

“You don’t have to go. You don’t have to do this.”

“I know. I hate it.” It comes out more broken than what you’d like.

“I’ll never let them take you from me. Never!”

“That will never happen. I’m yours Abraham.”

His arms tighten to the point of pain and you wish you’d never have to leave the safety of his hold, of your vardo, to face the past again, after the onslaught that had been the inquest.

You still wish you were in Abraham’s arms, instead of standing in the clearing, having to endure the small talk of DCI Anderson.

“I’m glad you called, Mrs. Heron.” He says with a flat tone: now that you’re here he doesn’t have to pretend.

“I didn’t feel like I had any other choice, DCI.”

“I’m sorry you feel this way, Mrs. Heron. My job is asking questions, even when people don’t want to answer them, it is no one’s fault.”

“In this case, your enquiries are about a matter that has been closed and that reopens a wound, DCI Anderson.”

You know all your answers are stiff, but you can’t help but feel the same wave of pain you did when Badger’s Crossing was set ablaze, killing many of the people you used to call friends.

“It wasn’t my goal, Mrs. Heron and I am truly sorry.”

You want to ask him how much truth there is, since his DS snorts at your words, but you don’t want to derail this conversation.

“You should ask your questions, DCI Anderson.” You try to inject as much steel as you can in your words: those men don’t need to know how off putting this whole conversation feels.

DCI Anderson’s cold eyes bore into yours, trying to assess you.

“Badger’s Crossing was an idyllic place to live. Why not go back?”

You bark an unhappy laugh at his face: you can’t help yourself, this man is far more of an imbecile than you thought he was!

“I think you should scrap that ideal country village image from your mind, DCI. Badger’s Crossing has been my home for years, but it wasn’t an idyll. What happened was a long time coming.”

“The arson? The murders? It is hard to believe, Mrs. Heron.”

“To you, maybe, who live in the big city. I have been living there since the war, I knew those people and the violence was simmering.”

“Mr. Simmons was a decorated official…”

“Who used to beat his wife into a bloody pulp.” You don’t let him finish.

“A bit of behavior correction never hurt anyone.” The DC adds, and you know he pulls that at home constantly.

“Truly? She mustn't have gotten the idea when she decided to leave, instead of risking her life every day!”

“You shouldn’t exaggerate, Mrs. Heron.” DCI Anderson intervenes.

“I am not and this is the truth. Take it or leave it, I don’t care if you like it. Mr. Simmons was a cruel man who loved bullying anyone smaller and less strong than he was. From the moment his wife left, he started raining his violence on the whole community; constable Smith knew and did nothing to stop him.”

“I don’t see how scolding two gypsy girls is raining violence.” the DC adds with a scowl. “They were going to steal anyway. He did what any good man should.”

“What happened to be considered innocent until proven guilty? He berated those girls without any reason and didn’t like it when I told him to stop. It happens when you act the asshole in public!”

“I didn’t go to war to hear this disrespect!” DC Thomas advances towards you and you fear the men would do something stupid. “A man has the right to protect his community!”

“Well, both my parents died during an air blitz, this gives me the right to protect anyone, according to your logic.”

“Mrs. Heron, my colleague doesn’t want to offend anyone, but we all know how those people are.”

“Oh, so you know all of them. You probably know the whole of humanity. Did you know that Mr. Simmons attacked and threatened his neighbors for no reason? That Mrs. Ashtown and her son were two blackmailers and that the wife of the vicar had intercourse with half of the men in town? Badger’s Crossing was my home and had many secrets.”

You take a big breath as you let the men absorb the barrage of information.

“We all had secrets, only exacerbated by living in such a small community. Mr. Simmons needed help, he came back from the war a different man, more cruel than he ever was and lived among us, until he did the unthinkable.”

You will never know why he did what he did, what did the Ashcrofts did to deserve to be annihilated and if Mr. Simmons ever wanted to destroy the whole village, or if he couldn't control the fire he set at his neighbor’s home.

No one will ever answer those questions.

“You want to know why I chose this life? Because that place is cursed now and I can’t live in another village without thinking about Badger’s Crossing, without imagining the horrors hiding behind the nice cottages and farms.”

You move the patch of hair you use to hide the burn marks on the side of your head.

“I have to live with this. I have more on my body and I was lucky enough to find a way out of the burning village.”

Abraham saved you. He faced the flames and the smoke to pull you out of the inferno that was your home, when you were too frightened to find a way out yourself; you often wonder if your birth parents felt that way during the air blitz that killed them, if fear petrified them as your home caved on them, or if your dad had tried to save you mum, and failed in the process. 

“Is this enough of a reason?” You ask, removing the fingerless gloves you always wear and roll your sleeves to show the extent of the damage.

Both men are visibly repulsed by the mess that’s your skin and whatever questions they might still have, die on their lips: DCI Anderson’s cold demeanor seems to fall as his eyes land on your body and you know he’s trying to imagine if there’s more scars that you’re not showing, DC Thomas looks haunted and you wonder if he’s seeing someone else, someone who never made it home.

“It was my husband’s people who nursed me into health, as the inquest went on. They went against their own interests to keep me safe and sound, no survivor of Badger’s Crossing ever came forth to ask about me, how I was fairing, and those people knew me ever since I was evacuated there. They saw me grow up and be adopted, they came to me at the library asking for reading suggestions, they bought their antiques at my adopted dad’s shop. I was part of the village life and no one wondered about my health.”

Slowly you cover your scars and adjust your hair.

“And you ask me why I don’t want to go back to that life?”

You don’t know what those men came looking for, or if your answers were what they wanted, the only thing you know is that you feel drained, that your feet barely carry you away from the clearing and that those men let you go with haunted eyes; not that you care.

You seek Abraham’s embrace as soon as you’re away from the clearing, ignoring the men around you: you’re shook and need to be with him, as he does.

Abraham had to be stopped by the other men as soon as he sensed DC Thomas’s animosity towards you, his rage the only way he knew how to express his fear for you, and the pain, when you had to show those men your scars, as if your words weren’t enough to justify your decisions. 

Ever since the fire, he lives with the fear of losing you, of harm befalling you and him not being able to come to your rescue again. In his life before you he had never thought he would care for someone as much as he does for you. He was raised in the knowledge that he needed to be the good man who provides for and  protects his family; the fire had showed him that there’s a limit to what he can do to fulfill this, that anything can happen to you and he would not be able to protect you: how is he supposed to live with this? When the buried past comes haunting you and you have to relive it, and he is powerless against it?

Abraham helps you up enter the vardo and gently removes your thick jacket and boots, he seems to be unable to keep his hands away from your body to show his brain that you’re real and alive, and still with him, that those men hadn’t kidnapped you to bring you back to that accursed place.

You let him remove the pins in your hair and the bandana you always wear and follow him to the sofa in front of the stove, where he makes you sit and covers you with a thick blanket, one of the memories from his own mother and he makes tea for you.

He feels big and clumsy with the dainty tea set in his hands and the biscuit box that you two are supposed to replace, but he needs to move, to do something, anything to ward his fears away.

“Abe?” You raise your hand to grab his trousers. “Abe, come here?”

He falls between your splayed legs to hug you and you hide your face against the side of his neck to muffle your sobs; you can’t control your emotions anymore and simply let go, opening the floodgates as you grab your husband with desperation and he hugs you as tight has he can, crushing you against his body in the vain attempt to absorb you within himself, the only place he knows you’ll ever be safe.

He knows he’s possessive and that it’s hard for you to accept, free as you are, but how is he supposed to show you that he cares? He is a simple man, words don’t come easily for him as they do you, he has to make sure that you know how important you are for him, in any way possible.

His big hands caress your head and back with a gentleness that’s still foreign to him, he murmurs in your ear the same nonsense he does with the horses when they are skittish, until you stop crying and are silently hugging him with all your might.

“Abe?”

Your voice sounds so small it breaks his heart.

“Yes, my love?”

He tries to keep his emotions under control for you, because that’s what you need, but he hears the tremble in his own voice and hates it.

“Will you make love to me? Put your child in my belly? Show anyone who comes knocking that I belong with you?”

You two have been trying since your wedding night, without any luck. You asking him this, now, it’s your way to show him how much you care, your unwillingness to be parted from him, to change your body irreversibly, this time on your own terms.

“Yes, I will.”.

Abraham unfolds his body and stands to his full height, before he lifts you up, bridal style, to carry you to the bed.

With infinite care he sits your there and starts removing your clothes, kissing your scars as they come to light, until you’re naked in front of him, in all your glory.

“I don’t know how you can stand looking at me.”

“I don’t have to stand anything. I chose you for myself and that’s all it matters to me.”.

The certainty of his voice, the blaze in his blue eyes tell you that he is not lying; perhaps another man would wax poetic about your ruined skin, he touches you with reverence and love, calloused hands that become feathers where he knows you still hurt, chapped lips that leave butterfly kisses everywhere as he undresses himself, until he’s naked in front of you, strong muscles born of hard work and his cock, hard and leaking already, just for you.

“I need you Abe, don’t make me wait.” You beg, spreading your legs to show him just how much you need him.

“Never.” He growls from between your thighs.

His hands are strong on your hips when he pulls you towards his mouth, his tongue thirsty for all the sweet nectar you’re about to give him and he feasts on you, his lips everywhere on your cunt, sucking, kissing, nibbling; he moans when your juices hit his tastebuds, making you shiver in his hold and his lips fasten around your clit, sucking harshly, hungrily for more as his fingers explore your depths, looking for that special place that makes you kick against his face and he fucks against it, fast and unforgiving, needing you as wet as possible, mad for him as he is for you.

Your hands grab his hair and pull, desperately, trying to control his movements, how fast he’s throwing you in the throes of your own orgasm, to no avail: you’re at his mercy, your hips are pushing against his face without your control, seeking the pleasure he’s giving you, rubbing against his nose and chin, until he’s drenched and fucking your hole with his tongue becomes a need and you keen, muscles clenching desperately around the intrusion, your own legs manacles around his face and he woudln’t want to die in any other way but drowning in your juices.

He removes his face with a grunt and you cry out, your orgasm so close.

“Ride me. I want you to feel me in your throat. Remind you whom you belong to.” He growls, low and hungry, as he lays on the bed.

His cock is proud and red, small pearls of precum bubble on the tip and you swiftly lick them, not wanting any of his essence to go to waste.

You’re so wet when you straddle him, your hole loose already for him that his broad head breaches you easily as his nails rake down your unburnt skin, his hands explore your body possessively, one finding home around your throat, the other grabbing your hips to help you move with gentle figures if eight that make his cock burrow inside your cunt all the tighter.

You grind against his body, your clit sending shockwaves of pleasure with every pass, his hand curls around your throat when you start begging for his cock, to go faster, please! He intends to savor you properly, suck on your breasts as you move over him and keen and moan when he finds that spot again and bullies it mercilessly.

“Abe please!” You sound so pitiful and lost, luckily he’s here to keep you safe. “You’re spitting me in two! Abe please!”

His hips move faster now, a trot that has your breasts sway over his face and your cunt squelch around his cock, your muscles pulling him in with every pass and his hands are the only thing keeping you up, now that his hips are pistoning inside of you and your vision blurs with tears and pleasure.

“Pleasepleaseplease.” 

You beg and you feel yourself tighten painfully, your cunt barely able now to house his massive erection and he keeps going, fucking you mercilessly, opening you up to his invasion, spurred by your desperate keens of pleasure.

You come with a scream, your body rigid as he keeps fucking you, prolonging the pleasure until he has to slip out: he’s not done with you.

You’re still trembling over him when he rolls you on your back and bends your legs against your chest, before entering you again with a grunt of pleasure.

You choke on your words as he fucks you hard and fast, your legs around his hips, his hands grabbing the mattress to propel himself inside of you and you’re reduced to a puddle of pleasure and tears, your cunt sore and hungry for his cock and seed, his head reaching so deep inside of you it almost hurts with how full you feel.

You can feel another orgasm surging, stronger than the one before, your whole body curls around him and he has to be brutal to keep fucking you, opening you up again and again, deaf to your pathethic sounds of pleasure, spurred on by your nails on his skin and the small pain they’re causing him.

You’re crying now, your whole body arching under him, your cunt strangling him when his thumb brutalizes your poor clit and you beg him, pathetic and desperate for what you don’t know, needing the pleasure and fearing the band tightening in your belly.

You come abruptly, and he follows you with three sharp pushes and stays rooted inside of you, his weight carried by his arms and legs, his face hidden in the curve of your neck.

“I can’t risk having any of it going to waste.” He groans in your ear.

You kiss him, hungry for him as your cunt is for his seed.

“I can’t wait to have your baby.” You pant, body still shaking.

“I can’t wait to see you full with my seed. Time and time again. See your belly swell and your breast fill out. Show everyone that you’re mine.”

“Yes Abraham, yes. Let everyone know I’m yours.”

He kisses you again and you try to push your heel against his lower back when he moves to dismount.

“Don’t go anywhere. I want to feel you grow hard inside of me.”.

He groans, eyes crossing at your words: he’ll do anything for you, anything you ask, as long as you’re happy and safe.

[incendio22]

FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL

Chapter 13: Snow Falling

October passes quickly. The castle seems to get colder and colder by the minute. Most students exchange their regular, white shirts for knitted sweaters. It's something beautiful about seeing all the Slytherin students in the common room, all wearing a Slytherin-green knit.

During my free period I decide to take a walk on the castle grounds. As I exit the castle I see massive, white snowflakes falling from the sky. The courtyard is already covered in a thin, yet beautiful, blanket of snow. In the distance I can see the owlery, looking colder than ever. I stand still and look around for a solid second before someone sneaks up on me and covers my eyes with their hands.

''Guess who?'' The familiar voice asks.

''Some first-year finding it exciting to interrupt my peaceful alonetime.'' I mutter back.

The hands drop down and I turn around to see Sebastian's face.

''For you, I can be anything.'' He says and gives me a charming smile. ''Although I find it rather suspicious that you would want me as a first-year. Maybe that's your type?''

''I never said I wanted a first-year.'' I mutter, slightly annoyed to have my moment of peace interrupted. ''I just assumed the only one who would pull a prank like that would be a first year.''

''I thought I'd surprise you with a little mystery. You looked so peaceful and from what I have seen and heard, your year hasn't been too eventful this year.''

I raise my eyebrows. For me, sneaking in the castle every night and finding a prophecy is quite eventful.

''Actually, that's not why I followed you.'' He admits and kicks his foot in the snow. His body language is nervous and I notice him scratching his hand.

''No?'' I ask him curiously. ''Well, go on.''

''Do you remember the night in the Undercroft in the beginning of the semester?'' He asks softly.

Of course I remember. Us playing wizard chess, arguing about what was a 'real Sebastian Sallow-date', me trying to tease him about the fact that I'm a better duelist. I nod at him and smile at the memory of that specific evening. He seems more relaxed now and he takes a deep breath before talking.

''Let me take you on a real Sebastian Sallow-date.'' He finally says. The butterflies in my stomach feel as if they are released and my face lights up in a massive smile.

''I don't fully recall, did these kind of dates include dark dungeons and fighting magical creatures?'' I ask with a grin on my face.

''Oh no. I don't know if you remember, but we decided that was a Y/n-date. Mine are way cozier than that.'' He says jokingly.

His hair and shoulders are covered in snow. For some reason, this seems to be just the finishing touch he needs as I have never seen him looking more attractive. I feel sparks of passion running through my entire body.

''However, since both of us seem have a thing for dark dungeons I suggest you set that up for our next date.'' He continues and smirks. ''Will you meet me at The Three Broomsticks tonight? At eight, perhaps?''

''It's a date.'' I reply and give him a smile. If he only knew that all I wanted to do was to wrap my arms around him and never have him leave my side.

I don't see Sebastian at dinner in the Great Hall, which surprises me. He is almost always sitting alone on one edge of the table with a book. But not tonight. After I finish dinner I start heading towards Hogsmeade. It's still snowing and the air is really cold tonight. There is a thick blanket of snow, covering the trees and the ground. My footsteps are light and I feel as if I'm walking on the butterflies that are constantly in my stomach.

I see him waiting outside with something in his hand. His face turns into a smile when I approach him.

''A little something for the new girl.'' He hands over a transparent bag filled with what looks like some tea and candies, all pink themed. I smile at him.

''You didn't have to.'' I admire the gift bag and feel like the most special girl in the world. ''But thank you. Really.''

''I got the tea from Madam Puddifoot's.'' He says. ''We can have it in the Undercroft later.''

''I'd love that.'' I smile at him. ''I've never been to Madam Puddifoot's.''

''Then I know where I'm taking you next.'' He says as he holds the door open for me.

Once again we choose a seat on the upper level. More privacy, Sebastian told me. I assume that is reasonable, given that the pub is filled with other students. However, I wouldn't mind letting everyone in the entire world know that I'm on an actual date with Sebastian Sallow.

''Merlin, it's like you cast some spell on yourself.'' He says after a while of silence. For some reason, the tension between us is a bit awkward. Sebastian seems nervous and I have never been on a date before. ''I can't take my eyes off you.''

I smile, yet feeling a bit uncomfortable. He is trying his best to make the most out of this date, but something makes it feel unnatural. I find him most intriguing when we are in our natural state, alone. For some reason I struggle to answer him.

''What's wrong?'' He asks and looks a bit disappointed.

''This feels weird.'' I admit and he nods in agreement.

The tension is forced and I don't understand how our chemistry can feel so off when I know for a fact that I am head over heels crazy about the man sitting in front of me.

''Okay, I have an idea.'' He says as he pours his entire fire whiskey down in one sweep. ''Maybe you were right, butterbeer is for friends. Let's go on an adventure. Finish your butterbeer quickly, you're going to need it. For courage.''

Now this tension is more what I'm used to when it comes to Sebastian. He gives me a fiery look and I finish my butterbeer quickly. When we pass the bar he orders two fire whiskeys and tells me that we're going to need even more. I laugh at him but decide to sweep the whiskey with him.

''I don't know what's best, just heading into the Forbidden Forest or finding some abandoned cave.'' He says in a low voice. ''You decide.''

''The Forbidden Forest is always tempting.'' I tell him.

''Right, as always.'' He says as he starts leading the way.

I feel a bit dizzy from how quickly the butterbeer and fire whiskey went down, but I also feel more alive than ever. The snow is creaking under our shoes and he grabs my hand as we're walking through the dark forest. In the far distance we hear screams. We keep moving up a mountain and see an astronomy table.

''The forest never stops surprising me.'' He says. ''Care to give it a go?''

''I doubt we'll be able to see much.'' I say with disappointment in my voice. ''But let's see.''

I use the astronomy table, but as I was suspecting the snow and fog is making it impossible to see any stars. Sebastian is walking around as if he's trying to figure out a way to make the stars appear. I sit on the table, the coldness of the stone making my entire body freezing. I lay back down, looking up at the sky and admiring its beauty even though I cannot see much. I'm just taken by how grand it is.

I sit back up and see Sebastian standing in front of me. His knees are almost touching mine. He gives me an intimidating look and squeezes his eyes slightly.

''Am I really boring you so much that you're falling asleep?'' He says in a daring tone.

''Oh no.'' I reply quickly. ''Just admiring the sky.''

He nods understandingly. He lays his hand on my thigh, gripping it firmly. I'm taken by surprise and need to gasp for some air. He removes his glove and puts his hand on my cheek and leans forward. We're face to face, his lips only a couple of centimetres away from mine. I almost struggle to breathe as he keeps stroking my cheek.

''Do you want to?'' He asks softly.

I nod, leaning even closer but his hand stops me. The hand on my thigh moves up to my hip and I feel as if I'm on fire.

''Tell me you want it.'' He says firmly, only his thumb separating our lips from each other.

I can feel the heat from his breath on my lips, driving me insane.

''I want you.'' I say in a low, breathy voice.

He pulls away his thumb from my lip, putting it back on my cheek. He leans in and allows our lips touch. I feel as if sparks are flying around us. Everything else ceases to exist and then and there, it is just the two of us locking lips. He opens his mouth and our tongues start intertwining, obviously hungry for more. It feels as if we're melting into one being and my body is telling me I want more. My hands on his back, his hands on my face and hip. I never wanted, or needed, anything more.

I don't know for how long we have been at the astronomy table, but in my mind we'll stay here forever. Just like this.

[noodyl-blasstal]

Fakebook - Best Served Cold Chapter 3

It's @tazsapphicweek day 3! So here's chapter 3 of Best Served Cold.

Read below or on Ao3. Missed the start? Here's ch 1 and ch 2.

-

“Hello my love!” Istus shouts into the house as she slips her shoes off and puts them on the rack. She probably shouldn’t still enjoy the sight of her bright sandals next to Raven’s big stompy boots after all these years, but she does... even if the boots are slightly less stompy and a little more orthopaedic than they used to be.

“Welcome home! How was knitting?” Raven opens the door to the lounge, cosy and flickering with firelight and candles. “I lit the fire so we could make toast.”

Istus sinks into Raven’s hug, then into the squishy sofa that they promised never to tell anyone how much they struggle to get out of.

“Here, put your feet up.” Raven pats her knees.

Istus does, and is delighted when Raven pulls a pair of Istus’ cosy woollen socks from her pocket and puts them on for her.

“What’s all this for?”

“Because I love you.” Raven says simply.

“I love you too.”

“Good, it’d be awkward if you didn’t at this point.” Raven works her thumbs into the spot on Istus’ foot that always bothers her after a day on her feet.

Istus laughs. “Thank you.” She leans forward and stills Raven’s hand so she can hold it for a moment. “I appreciate you, wonderful wife.”

“I know, you won’t stop telling me about it. Always boasting about your wonderful, perfect, devastatingly beautiful wife…” Raven winks and Istus snorts out a laugh. “It’s a good job I have one too or I’d be terribly jealous.”

Istus shakes her head fondly. This life they have built? It’s a good one, she always tries to remember that when things seem bleak. The furniture move hurt, yes, and so did explaining to everyone who asked about it today, but the shop’s still there, the community events can still run - even if no one shows up. Things change and change is hard, but she can count on Raven, she can count on their cottage, their friends, the family they carved out for themselves. Tonight there’s no room for sadness, they’ll make toast on the fire and slather it in butter, and they’ll laugh until they can’t breathe as they end up rolling off the sofa to stand. Next time she runs an event people will show up.

–

Istus finishes wiping her face as the shuff of drawers from their bedroom tells her that Raven is awake. She shoves the tissues into one of her deep pockets and hopes that her eyes aren’t red.

“Good morning!” Raven wraps her arms over Istus’ shoulders and kisses her on the head.

“Good morning!” Istus turns her head to kiss Raven firmly on the lips and hugs Raven’s wiry arms closer in a hug. “So, there’s another letter.” Istus keeps her tone as casual and neutral as possible. She’ll talk to Raven about how upset she is soon, she has promised herself that, they don’t keep feelings from each other. But she needs some time to process first… and to express it in a way that doesn’t worry Raven too much.

Raven lets go and sits next to her at the scrubbed wood table. “But we moved the furniture.” Her brow furrows and Istus kisses her on it, just because she can.

“Yes we did, and thank you again for doing all the coordinating.” She lays a hand on Raven’s and squeezes. “This one is about noise though.”

“What noise?” Raven asks.

Istus picks up the letter with her free hand and reads “...A low droning noise which is disturbing the peace in the area.”

“The churns?” Raven’s eyes narrow slowly.

“I think so.” Istus keeps her voice steady, thank goodness.

“Mmhm.” Raven says, mouth a tight line.

“Maybe I can add some sound proofing? I can get the girls to look up how much it’ll cost, or maybe I could ask Magnus if he can recommend anyone?”

Raven shakes her head firmly. “Don’t do it yet. I think you need to speak to a lawyer.” Raven has her serious face on. Her serious, serious face. Perhaps this has all been bothering her too? She’s never been good with change and as much as they started out with separate businesses, their lives are very much entwined. It’s been a long time since Istus thought of Happy Scoops as just hers.

She smiles and pats Raven’s hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry about the shop, my love, and remember that no matter what happens we’ve got plenty in savings too, we’ll be fine!”

“I’m not worried about money, Istus, I’m worried about you.” Raven’s voice doesn’t wobble much, it’s barely audible, but Istus hears it loud and clear.

“Okay. I’ll ring Davenport once he’s back from his trip.”

“And you won’t make any more changes until then?” Raven blinks rapidly, but Istus pretends not to notice the tears beading.

She takes Raven’s hands. “No, love. No, I don’t think I will.”

–

She waits for thirty minutes after the painting party was due to start, just in case. Sometimes people are late, she doesn’t want to pack up before she’s certain. Forty minutes later she starts to put the paints away, collapse the small easels, and fold up the waterproof tablecloths. It’s okay. Sometimes people are busy.

“You’re home early!” Raven says brightly, popping out into the hall. At least she sounds delighted to have Istus back sooner than she was supposed to. Raven takes two of the bags from her and stows them in the community craft cupboard, always looking after her.

“Yes, no one could come tonight.” Istus says it quickly, as if it’s not a problem.

“Oh.” Raven’s face falls.

“It’s okay, people are busy, I know how it is. It can’t be the first time.” Istus says and waves her hand dismissively. Perhaps she can convince herself if she’s dedicated enough.

It is the first time. Raven knows that, and she knows that Istus knows it too. She’s kind enough to say it. Of course there’s been plenty of nights where only a few people show up, but that’s not the same as no one.

“Did anyone call ahead?” Raven asks gently.

“No.” Istus says. “And usually Marigold is good to, and Deepti… I hope they’re okay.”

“I’m sure they will be, Istus. I’m just going to send a message.” Raven grabs her phone and taps away. Her smile isn’t as confident as usual, but still, Istus hopes she’s right when she looks up and says “I’m sure it’s just a one off.”

–

It isn’t.

Istus sits in Happy Scoops, bead boxes on every table, string ready to show everyone how to make lizards. Everyone had seemed so excited when they booked it in… Maybe she got the date wrong? She stands up, conscious that her knee definitely needs a stretch and checks the calendar. It’s definitely today. So she waits and she waits. Makes a lizard. Makes six. It’s fine. People are busy. Perhaps she needs to reconsider the community offerings.

–

“It’s such a shame you cancelled book club. I was looking forward to it!” Mustafa sighs heavily as he takes his cone from Istus.

“I’m sorry dear, what do you mean?” Istus has definitely not cancelled book club, in fact, she made special biscuits, they’re themed! There’s no plan to cancel… perhaps she misheard.

“You cancelled book club.” He says, as if this is obvious.

“I haven’t sent anything to the mailing list… perhaps there’s an error on the computer? You know I don’t get on well with it.” Istus smiles ruefully. “But it’s definitely still on, I baked murder cookies!”

“Oh!” Mustafa frowns. “Then why did you post on Facebook to say it was cancelled?”

Istus knows what Facebook is, of course she does, but she doesn’t know why he would think she has anything to do with it. Taako had tried, once, years ago, and given up almost immediately. Even Angus’ dedication had failed when she got locked out of the account they made her for the third time. Managing to send the emails to the right people at the right times with their emails in the BCC is the limit of her abilities, she’s aware of it and fine with it.

“We have a Facebook?” Istus asks.

“Here.” Mustafa puts his cone down in the holder, grabs his phone, and taps away at it. “There, see.” He turns it round and shows her a page which certainly has their name and logo. Maybe Carey or Killian made it? She’ll have to check later.

“Ah, well thank you for showing me Mustafa. Could you please send them a note to say that there has been a mistake? Please do let anyone else know if you have their numbers too - there’s a lot of biscuits and someone has to eat them!”

“No problem, we’re all in a group chat. That’s how we found out about the cancellations. I’ll do my best to help with the biscuits too, you know, because I care.” He winks at her happily. “See you later!”

Istus laughs as she waves him off, then turns to help the next customer.

“Tani! How’s the crochet octopus going?”

–

“Carey, did you or Killian set up a Facebook page for the shop?” Istus asks once Carey has stowed her belongings and donned her apron.

“Definitely not.” Carey’s reply is immediate.

“You’re sure?”

“Yep. Killian hates it, and I only use mine for second hand stuff. I wouldn’t set anything up without checking with you anyway. Why, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t think you would.” Istus leans on the counter. “We’ve got a page, apparently, and it did a tweet saying book club was cancelled.”

Carey’s eye twitches. “It did, did it?”

“That’s what Mustafa said. He showed me a page with our name.”

“Okay, gimme a sec, I’m going to find out.” Carey takes off her gloves and grabs her phone. She taps at it, then groans. “I’m assuming you wouldn’t have decided to change our tag line to “expect the expected”?”

“No.” Says Istus after a pause.

“I didn’t think so. Looks like we have ourselves some copycats.” She flicks her finger over her phone. “... and it looks like they’ve been busy.” Carey turns the phone around and Istus sees a series of red crosses through the various events they run.

“But… why?”

“Great question.” Carey says, and taps some more.

Istus’ Army Carey: There’s a fake Facebook profile and they’ve cancelled all the events. Raven: How did they get the mailing list? Have they hacked us? Raven: Should I report them to the Government? Hurley: No! Hurley: They haven’t hacked you. We’ll explain in person, Raven. I’ll bring my computers diagramme Hurley: Also, we need to email everyone and tell them there’s a fake account. Killian: Already on it. Raven: It’s okay, you don’t have to bring the diagramme. I don’t need to understand. Sloane: Accept your fate, Raven, you’re going to learn computers if it kills her. Killian: Can I watch? Carey: I’ll cover at Happy Scoops, but you have to tell me all about it. Raven: There’s not going to be anything to watch. Raven: I don’t need to do computers. You do it for me! Hurley: We’ll come to the shop on lunch break. Hurley: There’s no escape!

-

Enjoyed this chapter? Find the next one here!

[lewisthot]

reader is very insecure with her post partum body and lewis makes her feel better in a special way of course 🥺

actions: 11 and 13

words: 12, 16, 19, 34 and 42

you’re always irresistible to him nsfw drabble under the cut, hope you like it.

being pregnant and giving birth of course took it’s toll on your body, changed it in ways you were still trying to get comfortable with. lewis didn’t care and he made that know whenever possible but despite it all, you were still struggling to come to terms with the changes and be intimate with lewis.

the baby put to bed lewis had plan, it hurt him that you weren’t feeling 100% comfortable yet and didn’t yourself the way he saw you. he knew it would take time and he’d do whatever it took which is why tonight he wanted to pleasure you, remind you that he worships every inch of your body.

he ran you a bath lined with lit candles, ‘what’s the occasion?’ you knit your brows together confused, had you forgotten an anniversary? it’s not like he didn’t do sweet things for you all the time but you were caught, so focused on the baby.

‘just wanted to have a relaxing evening sweetheart’ he smiled cupping your face he pulled you in for a kiss, you wrapped your arms around him kissing him deeply smiling against his lips.

‘but—‘

‘no buts, you relax i have everything under control’ he interrupted you before you could finish your sentence, placing a finger on your lips when you tried to speak again. he had been a great father and partner but this was your first baby, it was hard to not fuss but looking at all the effort he made with the candles and rose petals filling the tub you hugged him thankful to have him.

‘you gonna help me undress?’ you bit your lip, still anxious as you got used to your body post birth not that lewis ever let you feel that way. he pressed soft kisses down your neck as his hands grabbed the hem of your shirt pulling it off, he trailed kisses down your body gentle with your tender breasts. dropping to his knees he deliberately made eye contact as he pressed kisses down your stomach and pulled off your underwear.

‘god you’re so beautiful, every inch of you’

you chewed on your bottom lip, holding your breath as he pulled your leg over his shoulder leaving a trail of kisses from your inner thigh to your throbbing clit. he was soft and too gentle, teasing - you moaned gripping his shoulder.

‘lewis…’ his name left your lips in a whine, desperate for more but he had a different idea. he pulled away, unhooking your leg and standing back up.

‘enjoy your bath before it gets cold’ he smirked as you narrowed your eyes, stepping into the bath.

‘i hate you’ he chuckled leaning down he lifted your chin giving you a soft kiss on the lips and the forehead as he stroked your hair.

‘i love you too’

you sank into the tub, eyes closed enjoying the the bath you could fall asleep the hot water melting away the tension in your body. once the water started to turn cool and your fingers were pruned, you got out and wrapped yourself in your towel. walking back into your bedroom you were greeted with a sight you couldn’t believe, more lit candles scattered everywhere and lewis in nothing but his boxers on your bed. you beamed at him, climbing onto his laps. you had no words, you didn’t know what to say you just wrapped your arms around his neck and captured his lips with yours. it was frantic and urgent, you felt so overwhelmed with love you just wanted him no needed him to feel him to show him how much you loved and adored him. you went in between your bodies you hands slipping under his boxers and gripping his hard cock, swiping the leaking precum.

'do you feel how hard i am? i couldn’t stop thinking about you all day' he groaned into your lips biting your bottom lip. ‘but tonight is about you’ 

he pulled away at your towel, his hand weaving between your bodies still damp from the bath but as he ran his fingers through your folds he felt the undeniable wetness that could only be your sweet juices. you let out a soft moan as he thumbed your clit, holding your face with his free hand he kissed you hard swallowing your moans.

he reluctantly pulled away, licking his lips with knowing smirk. ‘sit on my face baby’, giving your ass a light love tap as his lips danced along your neck. ‘use me’

you bit your lip nervously scooting up as he laid back down on the bed, his mouth open and waiting you lowered yourself down lewis’s mouth closing around your sensitive nub.

lewis hands ran his hand up and down your body, squeezing your breasts and digging into the flesh of your waist. you were hesitant, holding back from fully sitting on his face just a hover above his tongue that ran through your soaked folds.

‘be a good girl, let me really taste you sweetheart’ gripping your hips he pulled you down, his tongue exploring you further as you cried out in pleasure arching your back. you rocked your hip against him, his nose pressing against your clit in just the right way. ‘that’s it baby, ride my face. god you taste delicious’

he had full control now, your body pliant in his hands as you let go and let the pleasure take ahold. you should be focusing on whether or not you’re gonna suffocate him, a reasonable worry in this position but all you can do is screw your eyes shut and grind against his mouth.

‘let me hear you baby’ he gives your ass a squeeze sucking on your clit, he wanted more than whimpers and heavy breathing - he wanted to hear your beautiful moans fill the room.

you feel the familiar knot in your stomach start to twist, grabbing the headboard your breathing jagged and your moans growing louder lewis noted the tell take signs of your impending climax, his hand tightening on your hips as he held you against him. letting out a string of curse words, chanting his name you tried to lift yourself as your climax hit scared you’d suffocate but lewis was having none of that his own grip on you tightening, your loud moans and your body shaking on top of him only spurring him on.

he held you down lapping up your juices, your thighs going from slack to tight around him. ‘please i can’t take anymore’ he acted oblivious to your pleas, his mouth still attached to your throbbing clit your body shaking on top of him. you tried to pull away but his grip on you was stronger instead collapsing forward against the headboard.

‘babe i can’t get enough, come on be my good girl, i can’t stop tasting you so delicious’ his words were like an electric current through your body doing what it was meant to do and encourage you to let him continue devouring your pussy and be his good girl.

it wasn’t long before another wave of pleasure overcame you this time lewis letting you lift yourself a way from him watching as your body convulsed on top of him. plunging his fingers into your your empty hole groaning as you clenched around his fingers which he knew would soon be his cock - he was far from done.

[yorluver]

hihi! may i request "your hands are colder than the one time i lost a bet and i had to stick my hand into the snow for five minutes." for robin buckley please? thank you!!

omgomgomg while I was thinking of what to do for your request, i started thinking and… i feel like robin’s parents definitely took her camping a lot as a kid. but they stopped after she fell into a bed of poison ivy or something… that’s why she rarely goes on trips without a set plan and ten first-aid kits. thank u for the request!! <33

synopsis: robin takes you camping !

robin buckley x reader

navigation...

The sound of Robin’s mallet clanking against metal pins echoed around the camping plot. The area was secluded, but Robin had experience in the forest. You sat on a mossy stump, silently watching her. You wanted to get up and help her. But, after you accidentally hammered your finger, she sat you in time out.

“Robin,” you sang, “are you sure you don’t need my help?”

She shook her head, picking another pin out from her coat pocket, “Nope, I’m good!”

You sighed, time felt like it was dragging on. You looked around for anything you could do in the meantime. Robin’s beanie and your puffy coat could barely shake the cold off; that’s when you thought of something.

“Robin,” you called out again, “I’m going to go collect some materials for a fire!”

She wasn’t able to respond as you were already off on your way, carefully waddling through the forest.

Her voice was clear as day, “Don’t wander off too far!”

“Okay!” You shouted back, waving back at her.

The bitter temperature nipped at your skin, so you reached into your pockets for your gloves. Your hands searched through the empty pockets for the pair of wool; however, they were nowhere to be found. It wasn’t too long until you realized your gloves were still tucked away in your backpack. With a sigh, you quickly gathered some branches. By the time your hands were full, the pigment of the sky deepened, and Robin had finished setting up the tent.

“Robbie!” You squealed, running up to her. “I finished gathering some twigs, branches, and some, umm, pinecones.” You placed the mixed pieces of branch and twig on the ground, picking the pinecones out of your pockets.

“Aw, thanks, babe,” Robin smiled, walking over to you. “I finished the tent, come on, we’ll start the fire later tonight.”

She took your hand to lead you into the tent, but she immediately turned back around. Her eyebrows were knit together as she raised both of your hands up to her.

“Holy shit, your hands are colder than the one time I lost a bet and I had to stick my hand into the snow for five minutes. Are you okay? Do you need anything? Where’re your gloves, love?" She questioned, rubbing your hands slightly to warm them up.

“Oh! About that, I forgot them in my bag and I didn’t notice until I started gathering the items. ‘m okay, really.” You reassured her, letting a giggle slip from your mouth.

Robin pouted, “Are you sure? Come on, let’s cuddle, it’ll warm you up.”

She tugged you into the tent, swiftly throwing blankets on blankets on you. Of course, she slid in right next to you. You couldn’t even remember the feeling of your freezing hands, your mind was only filled with the warmth of Robin.

☆*:.��.｡.:*☆

[moonchildstyles]

i have a cold so im gonna be self indulgent but

angel coming down with something while she’s at work and she’s supposed to meet h at his shop, and she’s not going to just go home without him because they haven’t seen each other in a few days, and it’s fall so she’s dressed in a big pink knit sweater but she’s freezing by the time she gets in the shop and h is in the back working on a piece and she just barely greets Niall at the front before she’s going into his office and curling up on the couch with the big fluffy blanket that he keeps there for her and h comes in when he’s done after asking if she ever showed up because she didn’t come say hi like normal and then he just finds her buried in the blanket in his office with little shallow breaths falling from her lips and her cheeks are a little flush and he’s just bending down and brushing her hair out of her face and he feels the heat coming off of her face and he’s ): because she gets sad when she’s sick and it makes him sad, so he lets her sleep while he helps close up the shop and finishes some paperwork and by the time he’s pulling on his jacket to go home, she’s waking up and he smiles when he sees her, just going over and crouching near her head with a “hi, angel, you feeling okay?” and she’s just shaking her head and she doesn’t wanna talk because her throat hurts but h already knows how she gets so he’s just handing her some water and telling her how he’s planning on trying a new soup recipe for dinner tonight because he knows she’ll try to argue if he says he’s gonna change their dinner plans just because of her, and he’s pulling her up to stand and wrapping his scarf around her neck because she doesn’t have a jacket and her hands are cold to the touch, and she’s practically falling asleep on the drive home because h cranks the heat and turns on her seat warmers and when he shuts the car off she’s just clearing her throat and “are we still watching that movie tonight?” and his heart breaks a little because her voice is a little deeper than normal and raspy and “of course we are, should we get all the blankets and pile them onto the couch?” and he smiles when her face brightens because she loves turning the couch into a makeshift bed for their movie nights and h knows she’ll fall asleep once she eats and he dims the lights and he gets some cold medicine in her tummy which she’ll whine about having to take but h compromises with giving her little kisses all over her face and he’s just holding her so gently and rubbing little circles over her back and he’s already rescheduled some work appointments to clear up his day tomorrow and they spend the next day in the living room until she’s been sleeping all day between h feeding her and giving her more medicine and he eventually carries her to bed while he washes the blankets and drapes her favourite one over her fresh out of the dryer and the whole thing is just so sweet and she’s too tired to even really appreciate him in the moment but once she feels better she’s just so sweet and loving on him even more and i need him in my life so bad ☹️ - 🍓

Omg bestie I’m sorry u don’t feel good:( but omg ofc even when she’s sick she wants to see him so she walks to the shop and is so clearly 🤒🤧 so the boys don’t really bother her past telling her where h is and saying hi so she’s quick to head out to his office using her big sweater as much like a blanket as she could before she’s out:( but omg h coming back to see her and she’s obvi not resting super well just from the way she’s shivering but he doesn’t want to wake her up so he just leaves a blanket on her before finishing out his day checking in on her between clients and as he’s doing his paperwork but omg:( when she wakes up and he’s immediately right there getting ready to take her home talking to her so softly and getting her some water:( and faking her home w his scarf around her neck and all the heat and warmers on her while she’s trying not to fall asleep again and omg his heart breaking when he hears her voice for the first time today all achey and cracking and just not his angels voice:( just so obsessed w him taking care of her making soup and kissing on her even if just to check her temp and giving her anything she wants as long as it’s helping her get better:( taking a day off so he can do paperwork at home and stay w her:( hurt:(

[fang-wife]

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loft music | tamaki amajiki

➳ tags ;; mean!reader, sub!tamaki, teasing, mild humilation, degradation, unprotected sex, the petname bunny n fucktoy, sweet lil ending, there’s only one bed, oh no!

➳ wc ;; 2.4k

➳ a/n ;; speed wrote this shit at 6am and it’s currently 9am. i haven’t slept...

edit: reposting cause it didn’t show up in the tags </3 

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He thinks you’re joking most of the time.

It’s to be expected of someone like Tamaki - all nerves, fear, anxiety. He isn’t sure how he’s supposed to believe someone like you actually means all the flirty things you say. Certain you’re making fun of him, he tries his hardest to let the commentary slide off his shoulders like he needs it too.

But it’s hard. You make him feel so frazzled. It’s so hard to pretend he isn’t bothered by your too close touches, the warmth of your breath, the feeling of your body pressed against his when you hold his arm on patrols. It’s like he knows - deep down, that you’re doing it to mess with him. He knows that you’re doing it to see him frustrated because you make that face when he squirms. It’s so evil and so mean and humiliating -

and so unbelievably arousing. It makes his breath catch in his lungs - his stomach twist and turn. It makes his entire body burn with desire and he hates it. He feels uneasy when he sees you - not knowing what thing you’ll do to string him along like before. There’s a restless that you’ve grown inside him - planted in his heart and lungs that he finds inescapable. He’s more afraid of it when you’re not there, on the days you don’t bother him at all.

He can’t understand himself. Why he’s so disappointed when you’re partnered with someone else on patrol. Why he goes home feeling extra miserable when you haven’t said something to push his buttons. It makes him feel like a puppy waiting for it’s master - downtrodden and depressed without your attention.

There’s the jealousy too. That bitterness in his mouth when that new rookie clings to your side with doe-eyes. It made him sick to see you pinch the newbies cheek with any kind of affection - ruffling his hair and throwing your arm around his shoulder.

It’s all unreasonable. And confusing. He doesn’t know how to feel about you and can’t determine how you feel about him. There’s not even anyone he can tell because how was he supposed to explain himself?

But he has to rid himself of this frustration somehow - manage it before he really breaks down.

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He knows for certain that being on this mission with you, alone - in this room with one bed, will not help him at all.

He cannot remember a time he felt this miserable. His heart damn near fell out of his ass when the receptionist told him about the mix-up. It didn’t help that he saw that little whimsical look in your eyes when you registered it. The faux disappointment and shrug. Tamaki doesn’t trust you at all, not one bit.

He figures he must’ve done something truly evil in a past life to deserve this. He’s expecting some kind of commentary from you given the whole situation when you enter the room. There’s a couch, and a desk. A singular lamp and a TV - and the bed is big but not big enough for two. Not big enough for you to sleep truly separate.

He awaits your commentary anxiously, as your eyes drink in the surroundings. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but he knows it’s not you opening the curtains and staring out into the city.

“It’s really a beautiful. Shame we’re only here for a mission,” ― you sigh, stretching your arms and yawning ― “I’ll take the couch tonight, by the way. We should sleep soon,”

His eyes widen. Did he hear you correctly?

“Sorry, what?”

You turn your head and blink at him, head cocked to one side. You blink a few times before knitting your brows together.

“Hm?”

“Y-you’re gonna sleep on the couch?”

You nod.

“Yeah. You’ll be using your quirk a lot tomorrow, so at least for tonight - I’ll take the couch”

Tamaki isn’t sure what he’s supposed to feel about it. He knows it shouldn’t be disappointment. He nods dumbly.

“Oh.. okay”

“Cool. I’m gonna get washed up and head to bed - I’m beat”

He watches you slink off to the bathroom, dumbfounded.

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You’re putting on skin cream as Tamaki contemplates your proposal. The only thing in the background is some TV drama - but the words are blurring. His head is racing with a million thoughts. You’re not even fazed - seemingly off somewhere in your own world as Tamaki sorts his own emotions out by weight.

Everything else, reason, shame, anxiety - is drowned by the most unpleasant feeling of disappointment he’s ever experienced. He’s trying his hardest to understand it but every time he tries - his brain fires off into question marks. Why the hell is he so disappointed? Shouldn’t he be relieved?

But he isn’t. He feels so uneasy he wants to throw some kind of tantrum but he can’t. He’s changed into pajama pants and a loose white shirt - his legs crossed on the bed. He chews his lip nervously. Why does he feel like this?

“Uhm, y-you know you should.. sleep on t-the bed with me. Uhm, since - we’re both gonna be.. uhm, busy”

What is he saying? What is he doing?

You pause, turning over your shoulders with your brow quirked. You mask your amusement, straightening your face.

“Oh.. uh - you sure? Won’t that be uncomfortable for you?,”

Obviously.

“No!”

You smile at him.

“Then.. sure. Let me know if I make you uncomfortable”

And with that you turn away to face the mirror - finishing the rest of your skincare and putting it away as Tamaki anxiously sets alarms on his phone and adjusts his side of the bed. He tucks himself in before you do - with his eyes closed, listening to the rustling of your movement. He waits and waits for what feels like an eternity until your body weight dips on the other side of the bed.

He can feel you. Your body radiating a pleasant warmth - the smell of hotel soap and your skin cream and whatever detergent you always use. He buries his face into his pillow to try and mask his burning humiliations but his mind feels so blank. If he moves an inch your bodies would be touching - the lights are off but the city is bright enough that it doesn’t matter. Tamaki shuts his eyes and prays for something. Not entirely sure what, but something.

You move around and bristle against him - and he flinches.

“Tamaki, you okay? Sorry about that -”

Your voice has gone low in the night, soft and gentle. He squirms. Unsure what to do with this leftover frustration, he hugs his pillow to his body and buries his face in it.

“‘m fine,”

“.. You sure? You seem kinda off. You can talk to me,”

Your assurance is gentle. It makes Tamaki feel strange. You’re lucky he can’t see you because your smile would give you away. He’s so obvious it hurts you, but you play nice. You can be mean later, soon so for now  - you play nice.

He doesn’t say anything - doesn’t know what to do with himself. His cock twitches pathetically in his pants and he freezes. His body runs cold with a shiver. You turn to face his back.

Tamaki feels like prey more than ever. Like most predators, you know when to sink your teeth in. He’s not exception not really. You scoot closer to him, voice just a whisper.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Tamaki?”

He can’t answer, but he shakes his head.

“No? Then what is it?”

You’re close. Too close. He trembles as your body presses against his back - let’s out a noise.

“Use your words, Tama - I won’t bite. Why do you feel like this, hm?”

Your hands hover above him. His body shudders. His voice hiccups, a sob deep within his ribcage pouring out of him. It becomes clearer than ever that he needs you to touch him. Shame blooms in his belly.

“I won’t touch you till you say yes” ― you sound amused, the kind he’s learned to recognize ― “If you want to go to sleep, just say the word”

He breaks. Shatters into pieces as a tremor tears through him.

“Please,”

“Please what?”

“Touch me, touch me please - can’t,”

Your hands come up under his shirt, pinching his nipples as you place a kiss to his shoulder. His back arches, whimpering as his eyes shoot open. Your breath ghosts along the nape of his neck, your hands settled at his chest.  

“Okay” ― you soothe ― “Turn around for me, baby”

Baby. Tamaki shudders as he flips over to face you. You reach over to flip the lights on - only a gap between you two. His brain feels like it’s melting - your face is so close to his own. You give him a small smile - eyes brimming with tears and expression burning red. You reach your hand to wrap around his neck and bring him towards,  kissing him feverishly. He moans when he feels your tongue in his mouth.

He kisses you eagerly, hands frozen at his side as your tongue explores his mouth. Outlines his teeth, brushes against his own - he melts into the touch. He whines disappointedly when you stop.

Your hand cups his face.

“You’re such a pervert, Tamaki” ― you grin, brushing your thumb against his lower lip befores ticking it in his mouth ― “Got so antsy without me. You like being teased so much?”

Not in a spot to deny it, he merely shuts his eyes.

“...why did you stop t-teasing me?”

You chuckle, kissing the shell of his ear as your hands slide up his waist, around his body.

“I thought you didn’t like it baby,”

He muffles himself, mumbling about how he didn’t think he did either. Your hand travels down, squeezes his hard cock from his pajama pants. Gasping for air, he moans and ruts into your palm.

“You like when I’m mean to you, Tama? Like when I make fun of you ‘n tease you?”

“Hnggh”

You hold a hand up to his mouth with a warm smile.

“Spit”

His eyes go wide as you blink at him curiously. A pang of shame hits as he spits into your palm weakly, watching through lidded eyes as your hand travels to his cock - just underneath his sweats. His hands fist the sheets as you pump him lazily.

“You’re cock is so red ‘n pretty, Tamaki”

“You’re ― hic ― you’re m-making fun of me”

“’s that why you’re so hard? It’s drooling all over my hand. You’re so wet - they’re gonna have to change our sheets in the morning” ― you tease ― “They’re gonna know how lewd you are bunny, so much keeps coming out when I touch you”

He shakes his head, grits his teeth. He can feel himself creaming into your fist, overwhelmed by your touch. His eyes are screwed so tight it aches. So lost in pleasure and the sound of your voice humiliating him.

“You like being my little fucktoy, bunny? Like when I treat you like a pet and play with you whenever I like?,”

“Aaah, aah - pl-please” ― he shakes his head furiously ― “can’t t-take it, please”

“Bet you’re gonna make the cutest face when I let you fuck my pussy,”

His eyes shoot open as he feels you scoot closer to him. You pull his pants down swiftly - your hand covered in pre-cum. He watches with wide eyes as you pull your own shorts down, a string of arousal trailing down your thigh. Tamaki watches it with hearts in his eyes, making you laugh deeply. It’s an affirmation that you meant everything you said - that he was making you like that too. It’s enough to make him sniffle.

He watches as you lift your leg up - tugging his cock towards you. It’s pretty - thin and long and so red it’s almost purple. Your cunt envelops it . Clit throbbing against the tip, Tamaki’s sure he’ll cum if he moves. You grind against him so slowly, bringing his face towards you.

His mouth drops open as you kiss him. His dick is twitching relentlessly at the way you gasp.

“Feel how wet you make me when you look all pathetic?”

“Can I please, nghh - can you please let me,”

“Wanna cream inside me, bunny? Wanna fuck me so bad you’d do anything?”

He nods rapidly. A silent scream leaves his mouth as you adjust - slide yourself right down onto his cock. You feel so much better then he could ever picture. Soft and tight and warm and wet - like pure fucking velvet. His hands dip into your hips for support. Through lidded eyes, he watches your hand come down between your thighs.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t - ‘m gonna,”

You feel him spurt his hot cum into you with a loud, broken cry. His throat, sored from exhaustion, doesn’t serve him any better when you start moving. Fucking yourself on his overstimulated, half-hard cock with face paced rhythm. Your fuckin his cum right back into you and he’s sobbing through the overstimulation. His mind feels so broken - so pliant and obedient.

“’s too much ― ! p-please, can’t”

“Shh, ‘sokay baby,”  ― you groan, meeting him in a kiss that manages to overwhelm him even more ― “Fuck, gonna cum, fuck”

The tension in your gut snaps like a rubber band and your whole body spams. Clenching down so tightly on Tamaki, he sobs. You’re whispering good-boy and other praises until you’re down and sobered from your high.

When you open your eyes - Tamaki is staring at you in amazement. His cock has gone soft inside you but you don’t bother telling him to pull out.

“You did so good baby,” ― you kiss the crown of his head ― “good job”

He feels small and warm under your touch. A blush forms on his cheeks, words completely failing him to express himself. You don’t make him. Brushing your thumb against his cheeks, you smile.

“I know I tease you a lot, Tama - but I really do like you,’

His eyes shoot up in surprise. He shrinks when he hears you giggle, flushing.

“I.. I l-like you too”

You chuckle, petting his hair and burying his face in your chest. You let your chin rest atop his head and nod.

“Then we’ll have to talk more tomorrow. Let’s sleep, okay?”

He blushes, embarrassed but content..

“O-okay..”

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[lilosaur]

hewwo! i've read your writings and they're so fluffy hhhhh 💖 also if it's alright, can i request scenarios for the boys(mitsuya, chifuyu, inui) when their s/o knit them a scarf or sweater?? 👉👈

ahhh tysm!! I hope you enjoy reading this, I’m glad you enjoy reading my works’ 🤎

༉‧₊˚✧ When You Knit Them a Scarf ˳೫˚∗

⟶ ticket no. 4 ɞ

w/ Mitsuya Takashi | Matsuno Chifuyu | Inui Seishu

Warnings - wearing a scarf? relationships

fluff!

ʚ Mitsuya Takashi ɞ

Mitsuya himself makes you a lot of clothes, you’d get cool clothes only available for you to wear! When you told him that you knit he probably got really excited that you two kinda have something in common!

You decided to make him a scarf since your relationship has gotten tighter over the weeks, you really put your heart and soul into the whole project, from planning it to picking out the colors to figuring out how long it should be. It may have taken you a little while to make but it was so worth it! You just hoped Mitsuya would love it as much as you do.

You decided to put it in a little gift box and buy a fancy bow to put on top, it really just adds a bit of spice to the whole thing!

You stopped by Mitsuya's house after school to bring him your little gift. Your kinda nervous to see if he’ll like it or not. but honestly he will love it When you put the gift in his hands he looked at you and smiled, his smile is so bright and warm!!

“What’s this?” He asks in his soft voice. omg his soft voice is so<33

“A gift for you!” You say excited and eager for him to open it.

Mitsuya carefully lifts open the top of the box and immediately smiles when he sees the scarf inside, you can tell he really likes it!

“Wow y/n this is so pretty, your actually amazing you know that?” When he said that you can feel little butterfly’s flutter around your stomach. he’s so sweet

“I was worried you weren’t going to like it haha” When you told him that his smile kinda faded a bit :(

“Why would you think that? Of course I’d love it, it’s coming from the most amazing person in the world, my one true love.” Your heart was about to melt… literally. Mitsuya wrapped his arms around you pulling you into a hug.

“Thank you for the scarf.” He whispered into your ear, you were blushing just a little bit and super happy that he liked it. Maybe you should make him more things in the future..

༚༅༚˳❃˳༚༅༚

ʚ Matsuno Chifuyu ɞ

You saw on tiktok that someone made a scarf for this s/o, you wanted to do the same thing for Chifuyu.. you knew how to knit a little bit so it was time to do some research on how to get better at it. After a few practice tries you were ready to start on your big project! A scarf for Chifuyu, especially with winter coming up he’s gonna need one! You decided to put little cats that looked like peke j into the scarf, he’ll definitely love that. peke j is so cute too ngl

You took one final look at the scarf, it have a few flaws here and there but you were still new to knitting and not everything’s perfect, you just hoped Chifuyu would like it enough to wear it..

You and Chifuyu had a date tonight so you decided to give it to him then as a surprise gift! You found a nice gift bag to put it in with some fancy paper to add some pop to the whole idea.

Once your date was almost over you pulled out your gift for Chifuyu…

“Oh no you didn’t have to get me a gift y/n!”

“I want you to have it, it’s personalized for you silly!” His face looks confusing when you said that, ‘personalized for him??’

When he took out the fancy paper he saw the scarf sitting alone at the bottom, he gently pulled it out and a joyful smile appeared on his face.

“Woah this is so cool! Did you make this?” Chifuyu asks excitedly

“Mhm!” You responded too nervous to make any real conversation.

“Oh my gosh even peke j is on it, your the best y/n!!” Chifuyu made sure to give you plenty of tiny kisses all over your face while walking you home, just the thought that you made something for him warms his heart so much.!

༚༅༚˳❃˳༚༅༚

ʚ Inui Seishu ɞ

Inui is definitely the kind of person who is almost always cold or shivering with goosebumps all over, it was your grand idea to knit him a cute and casual scarf that maybe could help him out with that. You didn’t really know what kind of theme Inui would like since he doesn’t share much of his small interests like favorite animals/colors :(

So you decided to stick to basics and make a lovely beige scarf, something simple that maybe he’ll like it? You made sure to make it long enough that it drapes down his shoulder to help keep his body warm too! Secretly planning the perfect gift hoping that Inui would like it too.

You were so close to being finished on Inui's scarf working on the last bit in your room when you hear your window start to open…

“Hey y/n whatcha doing?” Inui pops into your room from the window… it’s like 1:00 in the morning-

“Inui! What are you doing here!?” You shout lightly trying to cover up your gift for him.

“Oh are you making something? I really just kind of missed you so I wanted to come by and hang out. If your busy I can go-”

“No it’s fine I was just working on a project..”

“What kind of project?” he asks while he inspects what your hiding with you hands.

“Umm it may be a gift.. for someone…”

“Huh? Oh I get it, oops my bad did I spoil jt for myself?” Inui laughs nervously with his hand behind his neck.

“No it’s okay, im almost finished with it so you can have it once im done!”

“Can I watch you finish it?” He asks curiously.

“Oh sure..” you reply nervously with a bit of light pink developing across your face.

You spend the rest of the night knitting on your ‘project’ while Inui watches behind you. Maybe your little gift was spoiled but by the look in his eyes as he watches you, you can tell he already loves the new addition soon to be in his wardrobe.

Wow I really enjoyed writing this, if you can knit that’s so awesome I wanna learn to knit one day!! As always thanks for reading and have an amazing day/night <3

[ks-dreams-fantasies]

I like your stories. :) can I pls have one with Rio? I’m not too picky about the scenario. Maybe him being over protective or sexual anything really.

Thank you so much, you’re so sweet 😘 Hope you like this. Also, are you guys watching Good Girls tonight !? Can’t wait to see what happens next ����

Not your property - Rio (Good Girls)

Warning: Language, Angst, Smut

Word Count : 2k

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“Why are you overreacting? I didn’t do anything wrong” you said your hands thrown in the air as you spoke with your boyfriend

“Exactly, you didn’t do anything because that guy stayed there, trying to get with you” He sighed pacing around the dining room.

“I told him I wasn’t interested and that I was waiting for my boyfriend, what did you want me to do, punch him in the face?” you asked rolling your eyes only to get him angrier.

“Yes maybe, but you didn’t, so I had to take care of it, show him what’s mine” He almost screamed making your blood boil at his nonsense.

“You think because we’re together, it makes me your property?” you scoffed “You don’t own me Rio”His eyes turned dark, furious that you were arguing with him, he loved your attitude but not when you used it against him. You almost never called him by his name, so when you did, he knew you were equally mad.

“Don’t say that” he responded in between gritted teeth.

“Whatever, I’m tired of arguing, I’m going to take a shower” you turned around as he followed you. You got into the bathroom closing the door before he could even get in to continue with the debate. You started the shower as you got undressed getting inside, letting the hot water relax your muscles.

On the other side, Rio was trying to open the door, failing only to fuel his anger. He took a deep breath, going back to the kitchen fixing himself a glass of vodka to calm him down. He moved to the living room, sitting down on the couch, turning on the tv, letting his head rest on the back of the sofa sighing softly. He knew you were mad at him for getting mad at you, but he couldn’t help it. When he arrived at the bar to meet you after one hell of a day, he wasn’t pleased to see a guy sitting next to you, trying to talk with his girlfriend. The guy was drunk and didn’t get the hint when you denied him, and when Rio arrived, he had to take care of it. After he threatened the guy’s life with his famous golden gun, he grabbed you, pulling you out the bar as he drove back to your shared apartment. He was looking forward to spending a nice evening with you after the stressful day he had but he had no luck.

Part of him felt bad for lashing at you, he knew it wasn’t exactly your fault, a beautiful woman like you sitting at a bar all alone was meant to be hitting on in a way. Not that it excused the drunken man trying to flirt with you even when you said you weren’t interested, but he understood why he would want to get to know you. You gave off a good vibe and you were beautiful, and he knew for a fact that you had probably been very polite when denying the guy, something he didn’t like. He knew you could give attitude and sass, so if you had, the man wouldn’t have been trying to steal you away from him. Were you just too tired to even acknowledge the guy or were you maybe liking the attention he was giving you?  

The thoughts made his blood boil again as you walked out and sat beside him keeping a certain distance. You hated fighting with Rio, and you never wanted to go to sleep mad at each other, so you wanted to talk to clear things up before bed. You looked at his angry figure deciding to stay silent while you directed your eyes to the movie playing. There was something about the way he flared his nostrils and knitted his eyebrows that made you want to do unholy things to him. The way his arms were crossed and one of his hand was playing with bottom lip trying to calm himself made you squeezed your thighs at the thoughts of him fucking you senseless. You looked his way once again, but his eyes were staring at the tv, still not acknowledging you sitting next to him. When something made him really angry or you guys got into a fight, he would often give you the silent treatment, not wanting to say anything hurtful in the heat of the moment. Tonight was no different.

“Are you still mad?” you questioned getting no response

“I didn’t mean to make you angry, I told him I was not interested” still no answer. You had enough, you wanted to be close to him, to kiss him, to hold him but he was avoiding you. Huffing you decided to pull yourself closer to him, trying to get a reaction or even a look out of him. Still nothing. In one swift motion, you straddled his lap, trapping him under you, his eyes now landing on your face, sighing.

“Will you please stop ignoring me? I just want to go to bed and cuddle” you pouted as he sat still, staring blankly at your face. You proceeded to grind softly against him, hoping to get a reaction. You knew Rio, and he never was one to turn down sex, so when you started to move your hips a bit faster on him, he sighed grabbing your hips harshly

“What do you think you’re doing (Y/N)?” he asked following the movement of your tongue as you licked your lips. You knew how to get to him, and you knew all his weakness, he hated that, but you always found a way to used them against him especially during these moments. His biggest weakness being you, he never was able to deny your demands. He was following your every move as you continued to rub against him, feeling him get harder under you.

“Nothing” you managed to say as you moved your head to the crook of his neck leaving a trail of kisses behind. He was trying not to let It show, but he was enjoying himself. You kissed his jaw, the corner of his mouth purposely missing his lips, and you went back to his neck before nibling on his ear slightly, something he adored.

“You know, I never got to tell you how hot I thought you looked when you confronted that guy” you whispered against his ear licking it slowly

“The way you gripped that gun of yours, it made me want to drop to my knees in front of everyone”you stated as he let out a throaty groan, pulling you closer by the back of your neck, crashing his lips to yours. The kiss was rough and needy, and you could still feel the angst radiating from his body. You continued to rock your hips against his, making you whimper as he ripped the flannel you were wearing, open. You gasped feeling the cold air against your naked skin, your nipples hardening at the anticipation of his next movement. He moved his hand to your breasts needling at them making you moaned against his mouth.

You lifted your body a little to give you access to his lower half, managing to pull his hard cock from his pants. His lips made their way to your collarbone as you pumped his throbbing dick a few times, making him bite your skin slightly. You aligned yourself on top of him, sinking down slowly, letting out a small moan as you felt your walls being stretched out. Your nails dug into his chest, leaving marks while you bounced up and down on his member. He grunted, admiring you as you threw your head back, feeling his finger sneak up on your swollen clit bringing you closer to the edge.

“F-fuck baby, don’t stop” You moaned feeling yourself on the verge of orgasming, before Rio grabbed your hips flipping you around, so he could be on top. You whined at the loss of contact on your clit but screamed in pleasure as soon as he pushed back into you roughly. He moved at a fast pace, trapping your throat with his hand as he lifted one of your legs on in shoulder to get better access to your aching core. His eyes were full of lust and need as he pounded into you. You knew part of him was still angry by the way he was grabbing your neck. He didn’t put enough pressure to hurt you, but his tight grip was enough for you to know he was still thinking about your fight. You grabbed his bicep tightly as he picked up his pace and roamed into you even harder than before, making you shriek in both pleasure and surprise. You hated fighting with Rio, but you sure loved the outcome. It always ended up with some angry and amazing makeup sex.

“Oh my god, yes!” you screamed in pleasure, your eyes rolling back

“Who’s making you feel this good (Y/N)?” he asked still pounding into you harshly, the only sound coming out of you being a moan. “Answer me” he continued

“Y-You” you said almost whispering, before you felt a slap on your thigh “Fuck baby! You, you are” you screamed tears welling up in your eyes as you could feel your release coming soon.

“That’s right mama! Me and no one else. You hear me?” He stated bringing his finger to rub your swollen clit feeling you clench around him.

“YES F-FUCK!” you screamed loudly as you felt yourself coming undone, panting heavily. Rio gave a few more thrusts as you rode your orgasm before he pulled out, moving to the end of the couch, standing near the armrest. He motioned for you to come closer, and you listened, laying down on the sofa, your head hanging upside down from the armrest. You opened your mouth and as soon as you did, Rio’s cock was down your throat. Your hand moved to massage his balls as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft. He leaned in a little, his dick pushing further into your mouth, as his finger reached your wet fold, playing with it once again, making you moan against him.  

He groaned loudly as you hollowed your cheeks wanting to feel him finish in your mouth. You relaxed your jaw, allowing him to hit the back of your throat making you gag slightly. You moved at a fast pace while Rio continued to pleasure you bringing you to your climax for the second time. You moaned loudly around him, and it was all it took for him to release on your tongue grunting lightly as his eyes closed. Spurts of his cum dripping on your lips as you couldn’t genuinely swallow it all. You sat back up, turning around, looking at him through your lashes as he stood there staring back at you, licking his fingers.

“Are you still mad at me” you asked him, biting your bottom lip

“How is it possible to stay mad at you?” He smirked holding your cheeks, leaving a peck on your temple. You smiled at him, standing up as you got dressed.

“You hungry? I can make something to eat while you go take a shower” you proposed, putting your arms around him. He accepted and left to go in the bathroom while you prepared something for the both of you. You put some music, swaying your hips as you started cooking. Arms found their way around your waist, and you knew Rio was smiling, you didn’t even have to see his face.

“What you making baby?” he asked swaying his hips against yours slowly to the beat of the music.

“Just some pasta” you answered putting down the spoon, turning towards him, lacing you arms around his neck

“I love you mama, you know that, right?” he questioned, pushing the hair that was on your face, away

“I love you too baby, especially when you’re being jealous and protective” you responded laughing slightly as Rio rolled his eyes before pushing his lips against yours, kissing you slowly as you both smiled into the kiss.

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Thanks for reading 

Hope you liked it, let me know what you think

-K

[warmblanketwhump]

safe enough to fall

a little university-themed thing I wrote using @sicktember prompts: comfort item, sneaky temperature check, medicine, unlikely caregiver, and lightly inspired by these prompts

the grip of the winter’s cold was their constant, unrelenting companion - but sometimes, B just wished it would be a little less faithful.

It doesn’t ease in the morning, when B wakes up coughing with a cold nose and stiff limbs. It stays as B shivers through the lukewarm shower and the hurried layering of clothes over damp, goosebumped skin. It sticks to them like cling wrap on the bus, in the lecture hall, the windy walk to their next class, makes them tense their rattling jaw, and leaves them hunched over and huddled up, desperate to conserve any scrap of heat.

This was a fact of their university existence - that after the pleasant crispness of fall, their poor, scholarship-funded body was plunged into four months of frozen hell. They didn’t like to complain - after all, they were getting a free education. But no one told them how brutal their university’s winters would be, nor that dorm heating was little more than a few puffs of warm air every hour, or that regardless of how many layers they pulled on, they’d be chilled to the bone until late March.

Their final class of the week is in a drafty science lab, and they hold back a groan. The cold's not the only source of their dread - it was the thought of spending 90 minutes with their perky, overly friendly lab partner, A.

A, whose parents were well-off, well-known benefactors of their university. A, who lived in a nice house with proper heating and had the money for a warm winter coat. A, who obliviously chattered on about anything and everything. Besides that, they were just so...happy. All the time.

The can afford to be, B thought miserably. There was no way all that sunshine could be real.

B really tried to tamp down their bitterness, but it was hard to listen to someone gush on about their amazing weekend their family spent on some tropical island when B spent the same weekend wrapped up in blankets, trying to stay warm enough to study their nomenclature notes.

Two minutes before class, A bounds into the lab like a freed golden retriever and begins their usual volley of caffeinated questions, which B responds to in short, clipped answers. Suddenly, the questions stop and A’s brows furrow.

“You look cold. Are you okay?”

B shifts on their stool and tucks their fingers into the sleeves of their worn secondhand coat, pulling it tighter with a shudder. “I am cold. It’s winter.” They cough weakly into their elbow - the nagging cough has gripped them for weeks now.

“Are you sick?”

Direct, then. That was new. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t have a fever or anything.” In truth, they had been feeling a little lower than usual the past couple of days, the chill a little deeper, the aches more pronounced, the cough a bit more painful. But in their book, that was hardly enough call themselves sick. B sniffles and A opens their mouth to comment further, but the professor calls the class to attention, and the moment is gone.

90 minutes later, they’ve got their work cut out for them - a ten-page lab report that’s going to count for nearly a quarter of their final grade. And as luck would have it, it was a partner project, which meant B got to spend more time with the equivalent of human rocket fuel.

“So...do you want to just knock this out tonight?” A's eyes dart around nervously.

B frowns - it’s almost the weekend, and they figured A would have plans with friends this evening. But B sure doesn’t have anything going on., so they don’t protest. “No… I s’pose we should get as much done as possible while it’s still fresh. Want to go to the library?”

“Ugh." A cringes. "Do we have to? That place is like a tomb.”

B huffs indignantly. “It's not that bad," they mumble in a weak defense of their favorite study spot. A shoots them a glare, and B rolls their eyes. "Do you have somewhere better? It's Friday, so most places are closing up.”

“Well, my parents decided to go on some last-minute ski trip to the Alps again, so my place is free," A says as they step out into the biting wind. "Plus, I have a ton of food and it's actually warm in there, unlike these buildings.”

The promise of decent heating and food that wasn't from the dining hall was enough for B. "Fine. Your place." The pair trudge through the bitter wind as the sun begins to set, and soon they arrive at A's parents’ home - a beautiful, winding estate just a couple minutes away from campus. B has to bite their lip to keep their jaw off the ground - in the blustering snow, this place looks straight out of a Christmas card. Another reminder of how they don’t fit in this world.

Will you stop? B chastises themselves. A having money isn't a personal attack on you. Just enjoy the free food, finish the assignment and get over it.

Despite the towering exterior, B's house was quite cozy, colored in warm neutrals and filled with soft, comfortable furniture. Just past the mudroom, they spot a big living room filled with with an enormous overstuffed couch, squashy-looking pillows, and soft throw blankets. Everything about this place screams warm. A rubs their arms, suddenly aware of how cold they are. The heat nearly makes them dizzy, and they can feel the temperature difference as it seeps into their cold skin.

"Want some cocoa?" A tosses their bag into the corner and heads for an electric kettle in the kitchen, and B follows. "It always helps me warm up." B nods. A couple minutes later, A pushes over a steaming mug with the top entirely covered in marshmallows.

B wraps their chilled fingers around the mug and takes a sip, and the warm, rich liquid feels like heaven to their cold body. "That's amazing."

A smiles. "It's the good stuff." They sip in a surprising silence for a few moments, before A sighs in resignation. "As much as I wish this was just a social call, this report isn't gonna write itself." They grab a bag of popcorn and nod their head toward the living room, and B follows dutifully. A flicks on the gas fireplace and tosses B a throw blanket, and the pair gets to work.

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

After a couple hours of studying, three instances of indignantly thrown popcorn, and a dramatic reading of the periodic table, B realized that they may have misjudged A. Deep down, under the bubbly exterior, A was a genuinely kind, sweet person. It wasn't an act - they just were human sunshine. And the longer they spent time with them, the more B realized they didn't mind their company at all.

"Alright." A drops their pencil and rubs their eyes. "If I have to balance one more equation, my brain's gonna explode. Study break time." A flips on the TV and puts the volume on low.

B leans their head back on the couch and pulls their throw blanket to their chin, trying to ward off the shivery feeling in their core. Despite the heat of the fire, the mug of hot chocolate, and the thick blanket, they just can’t seem to get warm.

Their face feels hot, but their blood feels chilled and heavy, the weight of it making them ache deep down in their bones. B wraps their arms around their knees, trying to rub away the throbbing pain and get some warmth into their skin. They glance out the picture window at the now-blowing snow. It's gonna be a miserable walk home.

"B, you're shivering." A's turning to look at them now.

B startles. "It's-It's nothing. Just a chill." The concern in A's voice triggers their flight response. "I....I should probably get back to the dorms. It’s late–" They're cut off with a hacking cough that leaves them breathless and they wince at the ache in their chest.

"B, it's snowing, and you haven't even had dinner-"

"Where's my jacket?" They push themselves up and toss the throw blanket off, instantly regretting it as the air invades their pocket of hard fought warmth. They’re trembling and dizzy and desperately freezing, but they cannot stay here. Then, the world tilts and they fall back on to the couch. For a moment, they're just laying in an icy, spinning world, trying to catch their breath, when warmth suddenly envelops them.

A's tucking the same thick grey blanket around their shivering form. As they pull away, their hand lightly brushes over B's neck, then freezes. B twists away from the gentle touch, but it’s too late. Realization floods over A's face. Caught. "You lied. You are sick."

B groans, even as their fingers weave into the chunky knit and pull the warm layer closer. "A, please. Just let me go home. I'm probably contagious. You don't want me here."

"B, you look like death warmed over. I'm not sending you out in a blizzard when you're feverish like this. I won't do it." There's a spark in their eyes and a set to A's jaw that dares B to challenge them.

B leans back, defeated. Even though they want nothing more than to run out of this room, they're too weak to stand and too cold to move. So here they'll stay.

It's okay. Someone's here. You can give in now.

No. I can't. I can't let them see me like this.

What choice do you have? You already look awful. Let them help you.

A covers them with another blanket and places a gentle hand on their back, rubbing slowly. The firelight flickers, casting light and shadow across their solemn face. “B. Tell me what you're feeling, and I'll get you what you need.”

B swallows down the rising panic, the helpless vulnerability they feel, and takes a shallow, shaky breath. “I…I guess I just feel….not right. I’m always cold...but it's...worse.” They sniffle weakly, trying to still and order their swirling thoughts. “Chills, fever, cough, sore throat, kinda stuffed up. And it just hurts everywhere.”

A nods slowly, then leaves the room. They return in a few minutes with a few small bottles, carefully scanning the labels and holding them up for B to see.

“Can you take this? Any problems with this one?” B had to take a moment and match the brand names with their usual knockoff brands, but soon they had a couple over the counter medicines picked out, along with something for their cough.

A glances at the medicine labels once more. "This one says to take with food. I've got some leftover chicken and dumpling soup I can heat up - does that sound okay?"

B nods almost imperceptibly. "Sounds wonderful." A gets up to heat the soup, and B feels the anxiety rising in their stomach when they're not in the room with them. A returns with a mug and manages to gently spoon a few sips of broth into B's mouth before B starts falling asleep, clutching the grey blanket even tighter to their shoulders.

A smiles sadly. “That blanket's my favorite whenever I'm not feeling good. It's the best thing you could have to fight off what you’ve got. Trust me.”

B curls into the soft fabric. It was as if the warm environment of the apartment and the comfort of the blanket had been a signal that it was safe to leave survival mode, rest for a moment, open the floodgates that had been holding back whatever had been ailing them for weeks.

After B takes their medicine, A’s eyes shift awkwardly around the room. “So….when you’re sick, do you like having someone with you? Or do you want to be by yourself?”

A sudden rush of emotion crashes over B. They’d so rarely had the choice. It takes all they’ve got not to throw themselves around A and beg them not to leave. “Stay, please,” they ask in a small, trembling voice. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

A smiles halfway and gently pats B’s leg. “Seeing as how I live here, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” They take their spot at the end of the couch and pull B’s legs over their own, flicking the TV to a familiar movie. B tries to keep up with the plot, but they keep falling in and out of a fitful, restless sleep, tossing, turning, unable to get comfortable enough.

When B’s about ready to cry from exhaustion, A’s there, covering them up with another blanket, bringing them a glass of water, gently stroking the damp hair off their forehead before laying a cold cloth over it. They flinch at first, but the cool dampness eases the fire of their fever, even for just a moment. The last thing B remembers before falling unconscious is a gentle hand squeezing theirs.

It could be minutes or hours later when they jolt awake from a fever dream in a cold sweat, choking and coughing. They’ve kicked off their blankets and the cloth is nowhere to be found, but the chills are back in full force. A appears in B’s blurred vision, hand held to B’s forehead. “Poor thing. Your fever’s worse,” they murmur.

B’s still gasping for breath, curled up in the fetal position, body wracked by the shakes as they try force the words through their chattering teeth. “A...It's so cold. I’m so scared.”

If B was more lucid, they’d see something in A’s eyes crack wide open at their weak, fearful cries. A pulls the trusted grey blanket from the floor and wraps it back around B, rubbing their arms to try and make them feel warmer. There's something in the tenderness of the gesture, and B’s panicked gasps turn into soft, quiet sobs. They try and cover their face with one hand, but A’s hand is there, catching their wrist and wiping the tears away with their thumb.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay. We just gotta get through tonight, alright?” A’s voice matches their usual cheery demeanor, but B can see the fear in their own eyes. They don’t know what they’re doing either.

“Why are you helping me?” B whispers in a tear-roughened voice.

A shrugs. "You're sick. You need help. Is it that so surprising?"

B's eyes flash a delirious spark. "You don't get it. I'm a broke scholarship student. I'm nothing like you. I'm not fun, or bubbly, or rich, or any of those things you are, and I don't fit in here. So why?"

B can't stop the words now, every single insecurity laid bare. "Why do you try to talk to me when I'm nothing but rude to you? Why'd you invite me here? Am I just a project to you? Why are you helping me? I'm not worth it!" The words spill out before B can stop them, and the raw hurt in A's eyes nearly rips B's heart out of their chest.

B claps their hand over their mouth, tears flooding their eyes. Now they've done it. They've laid it all out there. A's gonna kick them to the curb. And B won't blame them one bit.

But instead, A just looks at them, and pulls B into a hug. Their voice wavers only a bit as they whisper in B's ear: "You're not a project. You are completely worth being cared for. And you’re not the only one who knows what it feels like to not fit somewhere. Trust me.”

Alone. In a big, empty house. Studying on a Friday night. No plans of their own.

A, are you lonely, too?

Their words are so simple.

And yet they're everything B didn't know they needed to hear. A's got one arm around their shoulders, and one hand threaded through their sweaty, fever-damp hair, and they're cradling B so tightly it’s like they're the one who needs to be held.

B can't find the words to apologize or comfort them back. They're too tired for that. But they wrap their other arm around A and let their head rest on their shoulder. They stay like that for ages until their head begins to drop, and A shifts so they’re both laying down, B curled against A, A’s arm wrapped around their shoulders as they tuck a blanket around them both.

And finally, finally, B lets go. It's safe to fall, this time around. Because for the first time, there's someone there to catch them.

[let-it-raines]

Ships Passing in the Night

Summary: It's a day here, a week there, a phone call across time zones. It's all Emma and Killian have had for years, and they are okay with it. It's their arrangement, and it works for them.

Until it doesn't. And maybe, this go-round, they both need something more .

a/n: Um...hello? It's been a minute, but I've been slowly making my way through all the books on my shelf and thought to myself, "I need to write again." So here I am, dusting off the shelf. Literally and figuratively.

On AO3 | HERE |

-/-

-/-

“Is that my shirt?”

Emma hums a noncommittal answer as she rolls the sleeves of the flannel up. It’s too big on her, will likely fall off her shoulders all day, but it’s long enough to wear with leggings, and honestly, the thought of wearing real pants today is her worst nightmare. Anything without elastic or spandex in it is a hard no for her.

“Swan,” Killian says as the sheets rustle with his movement, “I was planning on wearing that today.”

Emma still doesn’t say anything. She rolls her eyes and looks into Killian’s dresser. He’s got at least ten identical button-downs and plaid shirts in there. He’ll be fine. She finishes rolling the sleeves up to her forearms and then moves to closing the buttons. She’s halfway finished when a hand comes over hers.

“Emma,” he whispers into her neck, his warm breath somehow causing a chill to travel down every damn inch of her spine, which, when she thinks about it, doesn’t logically make sense, “what do you think you’re doing?”

She leans back into him, letting her body press into the planes of his. It’s an indulgence she doesn’t get as often as she’d like, the act of simply standing with him like this, and she really has to find opportunities like this more often.

Opportunities to be happy doing nothing.

“I’m getting dressed. I have places to be, things to do.”

“People to meet?”

“So you know how the saying goes?”

“Aye, love, I do.” His hand moves hers away from her stomach, and his fingers undo the work she just did on the flannel. “I also know neither of us have to be anywhere until tonight.” His hand trails down her bare stomach as his lips brush against the shell of her ear, and God, the man knows how to work her. “So why don’t you take this off and get back in bed with me?”

“In bed with you?” Emma questions. “Whatever would I do in bed with you?”

“Sleep.”

Emma laughs and leans back into him, craning her neck to grant him more access. “This doesn’t feel like you want to go back to sleep.”

“Well, I think I might need to tire myself out first.”

“What do you have in mind?”

It’s Killian’s turn to laugh, and the vibrations of it against her skin nearly drive her mad.

This is good, these moments. They don’t get too many of them, and Emma doesn’t know why she bothered to even get out of bed.

Oh wait. She does. She needed coffee.

“Coffee,” Emma says as she turns and nuzzles her nose into the ink just below his collarbone. “I wanted coffee. That’s why I got out of bed.”

“What if I promise to make you coffee in an hour?”

“An hour is pushing it. By a lot.”

Killian laughs. “I was factoring in time to shower. And to get dressed. And maybe watch some television.”

“What if,” Emma says, kissing Killian’s chest as she laughs, “you take me out to get coffee instead? I’ll give you your hour if you do.”

“It’s a deal, Swan.”

-/-

It’s more like twenty minutes, even with the lazy way they go about it, but it does take them the next forty minutes to shower, dry their hair, and get dressed. It’s cold outside, Boston in autumn in full effect, and Emma puts on at least three layers. She’s cold-natured, though, and the chill in the air still nips at her nose. When she complains about the cold, Killian pulls her beanie down her head, the knit material blocking her vision for a moment, and she elbows his side when he starts laughing.

Asshole.

But he’s her obnoxious ass today, and she isn’t going to complain.

Okay, she is, but she’ll keep it to a minimum.

They go to their favorite diner, a hole in the wall place that serves the best breakfast in town, and Emma eats too much. But it’s good and she feels good, so it doesn’t matter that she eats too much or that she’ll have to go for a run tomorrow morning before work.

None of that matters. Not when everything, right at this moment, is as close to perfect as she ever allows it to be.

She’s learning to allow herself to be happy. She’s got to keep remembering that.

“Killian.”

He looks up from his side of the booth and flashes her the smile that makes the lines around his eyes crinkle. She always loves when that happens.

“Yes, love?”

“I just,” she begins, but all the courage she had been building begins to dissipate, “I…”

“Well, look who the cat dragged into town.” Both Emma and Killian turn to the side and see Will Scarlet, a somewhat shared friend, standing over their table. Perfect timing, as always, Scarlet. “How long are you around for this time, mate?”

Killian shrugs and shifts his foot against Emma’s under the table. “My flight back is tonight.”

“You stationed back in the states now or do they have you in Europe?”

“I’m in Italy for six months, but then I’ll be back for awhile.”

“Damn, Italy. That seems nice. Why don’t you give me a call when you’re back? I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Yeah, mate,” Killian sighs, nodding to Will while his boot stays connected under her ankle, “I’ll give you a call.”

“Sweet. See you around, Jones. Nice to see you too, Emma.”

“Yeah,” Emma says, “nice to see you too.”

Only a little bit of that was a lie.

Will walks away from them and to his table across the diner. He sits down next to a pretty brunette, and as much as he annoys her when she runs into him, it’s good to see him happy.

“Hey,” Killian whispers, tugging at her ankle until she looks up, “I’ll be back, Emma. I always am. And you know not a day will go by that I won’t think of you.”

This is a routine they’ve done time and time again. It never gets easier, and she never quite knows what to say.

Emma gulps and nods as she unhooks her ankle. “Good.”

-/-

There’s a package outside her apartment on Christmas Eve. She knows who it’s from before she opens it. It can’t be from any of her friends here in Boston. They’ve already exchanged gifts and are all off visiting their families for the holidays. It’s what happens every year, and Emma is good with that. Once, several years ago, she traveled with Mary Margaret to her hometown in Oklahoma, and Emma has never wanted to spend the holiday with family that isn’t her own again.

She doesn’t have any family, so spending it alone in her apartment with all the takeout she can eat works perfectly fine for her. If she could, she’d work and get the overtime pay, but the office is closed.

Dammit.

Emma picks up the box and carries it inside. She drops it on her kitchen counter and grabs a knife to open the tape. Inside is a black sweater and a plaid shirt. Cologne wafts off them, and Emma laughs to herself before pulling her phone out of her coat pocket.

ES: Aren’t I supposed to be the one sending you care packages? Isn’t that usually how this whole deployment thing works?

She doesn’t expect a response. It’s far past midnight in Italy. But her phone vibrates immediately.

KJ: I’ve been in the Navy for 15 years. I like to switch things up.

ES: So I should cancel the gift I sent you?

KJ: Absolutely not. I love good, old-fashioned dirty pictures. I have to keep them in my wallet for safe keeping.

ES: I sent those one time, and I’ve never heard the end of it.

KJ: They are stunning pictures. Everyone thought so.

“Ass,” Emma laughs. She sent him pictures one time as a drunken joke, and she has never lived it down. He’s right. They’re great pictures, and Emma knows Killian is the only one who’s ever laid eyes on them. Emma pulls the flannel out of the box. She slips it over her sweater and lets it hang off her arms.

Perfect.

Not that she would ever admit that.

Emma moves from her kitchen to her living room and settles down on the couch. She turns on the TV and finds a Christmas movie. She’s not a total grinch.

‘Tis the season and all.

ES: I will murder you if anyone besides you has ever seen those pictures.

KJ: I can assure you the only one who has ever laid eyes upon them is me.

She had to make sure.

God, this movie has been on for two minutes, and it already seems bad.

Okay, maybe she’s a little bit of a grinch.

ES: What are you doing awake?

KJ: Waiting for you.

Emma knows her heart doesn’t actually skip a beat, but it sure as hell feels like it.

KJ: Merry Christmas, love.

ES: Merry Christmas, Killian.

And, maybe, if she stays in the dark with the messages popping up on her phone, it will be.

-/-

“Why won’t you go out with this guy?” Mary Margaret sighs. Emma rolls her eyes and stuffs another cracker in her mouth. “He’s nice, he has a good job, and he’ll treat you well. One date. What’s the harm?”

“She’s in love with Jones,” Ruby says as Emma eats another cracker. “That’s why.”

“I am not in love with Killian,” Emma mumbles. Crumbs drop onto her shirt. It’s a pretty accurate description of her life at the moment.

Ruby glares at her, and Emma sinks a little further into the couch. She needs wine. And lots of it. This is not how she wanted this night to go, but she should have figured it’s what Mary Margaret wanted when she asked if Emma wanted to come over tonight.

Always an ulterior motive.

“Emma, is that really what it is? Are you still waiting on Killian?”

She’s damn well not waiting on fucking anyone, she thinks.

“I’m not waiting on anyone,” she says

“So, go out with Graham,” Mary Margaret suggests. “You’ll like him. And he’s here. He’s not off in Italy or Germany or South Korea. He’s here in Boston, full-time, and maybe it’s time that you allow yourself to be happy for more than the few days a year when Killian comes home.”

“I’m not pathetically pining for Killian. I have a life. I have a busy job, friends, hobbies. I don’t sit up at night wondering if he’ll call me. He and I have an arrangement, and it works well for us.”

It’s all true. She works overtime every week because the legal field is a bitch. She has friends who are always wanting to get dinner or go to a farmer’s market. She likes running and reading and watching a hell of a lot of TV. She doesn’t need to add in a full-time boyfriend on top of it.

She would…well, she would be too busy to get to enjoy life.

She’d likely save time on her friends nagging her. That would be one plus.

“It’s weird as hell is what it is.” Ruby tops off her wine and then does the same for Emma. Emma both hates and loves her right now. “He comes home, what? Three or four times a year before he takes an assignment somewhere else. You two screw, have your fun, and then you both go off and live your separate lives?”

“The part that doesn’t make any sense to me,” Mary Margaret says, “is the way they’ll both casually date other people in between his assignments and then, miraculously, those relationships end before Killian steps foot on Boston soil.”

“Odd that,” Ruby teases. Emma chugs her wine. “I wonder why.”

“Screw both of you.” Emma downs the rest of her drink and gets up from the couch to get more. She’s going to be hungover tomorrow, but it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t have to go anywhere tomorrow. “Since when were the two of you so judgmental about my dating life?”

“Well, I think it started when you decided to date Neal.”

Emma tips her glass to Ruby. “That’s a valid point. He was bad.”

“Horrible.”

“The worst,” Mary Margaret agrees. “Then there was August. Okay but not great.”

“Oh, Walsh,” Ruby adds. “He lasted a long time but he sucked at the end.”

“I don’t like this conversation,” Emma mutters under her breath. “Can we stop?”

“And after him, you met Killian at a bar and decided you’d sleep with him for fun because you knew he wasn’t a permanent fixture.”

“Emma does hate a permanent fixture.”

“Nothing scares her more.”

“Oh my God,” Emma groans. She puts her glass on the counter. “I’ll go on the date with Graham if it’ll make us never have this conversation again.”

-/-

Emma’s torn apart her entire closet. She has tried on every dress, has combined every top and pair of jeans she owns, has even pulled out the few jumpsuits she has despite them making having to pee a nightmare.

Nothing looks good.

Okay, that’s not true. A lot of it looks just fine. Emma picks the off-shoulder red dress off her floor and zips herself back into it. It’s a good date night option. It’s tight but breathable, and she can wear boots with it so she’s not stuck in stilettos.

Why are heels really the only nice outfit appropriate shoe? What is she supposed to do when it’s summer and boots are no longer an option? Work will be hell.

God, she does not want to go out tonight. It’s cold and raining, and all she really wants is to go to bed early. Maybe she doesn’t have to go. Maybe if she can’t find the right pair of shoes, she can call and say she’s sick.

That seems like the best idea.

Emma looks at herself in the mirror. The boots look perfect.

She looks great.

Dammit.

She’s going to go on this date. It’s going to be good for her. She’s going to have fun.

She needs to have a little fun. She’s been going from home to work to the gym to home for months now, only switching it up when she needs food or has to talk to someone who does not pay her to do work for them.

There’s a knock on her door, and Emma curses to herself. She Flips her hair, fluffing it, and runs her nail along the corner of her lips to get any stray lipstick.

Okay, this is it, and she’s okay with that.

Maybe. A little.

Her stomach still doesn’t feel quite right, and she doesn’t know what to do about it.

Can she cancel when the man is literally at her door?

“Coming,” Emma yells when there’s another knock. She smooths her dress down once more and takes a deep breath before stepping into the hallway and toward her front door. Emma undoes her locks and swings the door open. “Hi – ”

Killian.

That’s Killian on the other side of her door.

Killian is not supposed to be on the other side of her door.

But there he is, standing there with a bag thrown over his shoulder and a bright white smile on his face.

“Surprised to see me?”

“Holy fuck.”

“Two words that don’t necessarily go together, but I can’t say I mind.”

Emma rarely thinks of herself as speechless, but right now, her brain and her mouth aren’t connecting. She doesn’t know what to say.

He’s a month early.

He’s never a month early.

He’s never early at all.

At least, not like this.

His schedule changes a lot. It does. She’s used to that. But it’s a day here, a week there. It’s not this.

And it’s never unexpected. She always knows.

But then again, he has been a little quiet the last few days. She should have suspected something.

Then again, she’s been quiet too.

She didn’t know what to say.

“Shit,” Emma mumbles as she kicks at imaginary dirt.

Killian laughs at her as he steps inside her apartment and closes the door behind them. His duffle drops to the ground, and Killian immediately moves toward her, grabbing her waist and pulling her into him until his lips are moving over hers. He’s smiling. She is too. And that makes it all the sweeter for awhile until Emma’s heel clicks against the ground, and she remembers where she’s supposed to be.

On a date.

A date who is picking her up at her apartment because Mary Margaret swears the man isn’t a serial killer and that it’s a safe thing to do.

Right now, it’s feeling really freaking stupid.

“Killian,” Emma mumbles as his lips fall away from hers and move toward her jaw. “Killian, I can’t.”

“What?” he mumbles, still kissing her.

“I – I can’t, not right now. You’re not supposed to be here yet and we have an agreement and…and I didn’t want to, but I felt like I needed to, you know? To prove a point to Mary Margaret and Ruby and, hell, even myself. I just – ”

Killian sighs into her skin, his breath warm, and then he pulls back. She can’t stand to look him in the eyes right now. She’ll go back on her word, she’ll stay here with him, and she can’t do that.

God, she really wants to.

“I should have called,” he whispers. “You have a date.”

“Killian.”

“You look beautiful.” He backs away and picks up his bag. Emma is immediately freezing. “I’ll be in town for a few weeks. Call me if you’d like to.”

-/-

Graham is a really nice guy.

Ridiculously nice, actually.

And Emma hates it. She hates it because of course he’s a good guy who isn’t a total asshole. He’s respectful and sweet and really handsome. He didn’t even try to kiss her at the end of the date. He wanted to. She could tell. But he’s too nice to make a move that fast.

Or maybe Emma was just giving off vibes that she didn’t want to kiss him.

Because all she could think about was the other man who showed up at her door earlier and how she wanted to be with him.

God, she’s missed him. and now instead of being with him, she’s alone, her dress crumpled on the floor of her bedroom.

Why did she have to go?

Why did she let herself go? She could have stayed. She could have stayed with Killian and cancelled on Graham, but she…she what? She wanted to prove something to her friends, to prove that she was fine, that her relationship, or lack thereof, was fine.

She’s got no freaking clue, but she did it. She did it, and now she’s alone.

Emma has never minded being alone, not when she’s so used to it, but right now, it really sucks.

-/-

Emma doesn’t call Killian.

Killian doesn’t call Emma.

It’s a battle where no one is firing, and that’s where the danger lies.

-/-

Emma doesn’t text Graham.

Graham does text Emma.

She gives in and tells him that he’s a great guy, that she had a great time, but she’s not interested right now.

She’ll deal with the fallout from her friends when it comes. It’ll be better than forcing herself into something she so, so isn’t ready for.

At least not with him.

-/-

Emma doesn’t mean to continue not to call him. She really doesn’t. She means to eventually call him, to send the text, but after a few weeks, it’s such a big deal in her head that she can’t find the courage to do something she’s done hundreds of times.

She used to text Killian everything, even if she knew he wouldn’t see it or be able to respond to it. He is never in an actual line of duty anymore, hasn’t been for most of the time she’s known him, but with the time changes and how busy he (and she as well to be honest) can get, it’s normal for them to go long periods of time without speaking.

What’s happening now is not normal.

And Emma doesn’t want to think about it.

But she does.

She thinks about it until it becomes one her demons, the scary ones that don’t just come out at night but also hang around during the day.

There’s no place to hide.

She tries to bury herself in work, but there’s only so much she can do to keep herself occupied sitting at a desk staring at a computer screen all day. Being buried under paperwork that needs proofreading can get a little lonely sometimes, and when it comes second nature to her, her thoughts can stray to things she’d rather forget.

Maybe some ships are always meant to pass in the night, narrowly missing each other.

Maybe if the captains were brave enough, they could make sure the ships meet up.

-/-

“Oh, would you look at that,” Mary Margaret says, “Killian’s in London now.”

Emma looks up from the table. That’s not what she expected to hear tonight. It’s July. It’s hot out, heat waves moving over them and causing sweat to drip down Emma’s back. There’s at least a slight breeze on the roof of Mary Margaret and David’s building, but it’s not enough.

Emma was definitely not made for the summer months. She much prefers the chill of the winter.

“How’d you see that?” David asks. He leans over his wife’s shoulder. “I thought he didn’t use Instagram.”

“He does sometimes, but this is on his sister-in-law’s page.”

Emma isn’t proud of it, but she grabs her phone off the table and quickly types in Elsa’s name.

The first photo on the page is Killian sitting in the garden with his nephew on his lap. The kid looks just like him, even has some marker drawings on different parts of his arms to match Killian’s few visible tattoos, and when Emma zooms in, she notices some drawings scribbled on Killian’s arms as well.

How long will he be in London? Where will he go after that? Is he going to ever be back in Boston?

He doesn’t have a place here anymore. He always stays with her or at a hotel, but he always comes back.

Or he at least used to. She doesn’t actually know anymore.

Emma does something stupid and taps to Killian’s profile. His last picture is of the coast in Italy in December. That was months ago, and the last picture before that is of her silhouette in his hotel room window. It could be anyone, but she knows it’s her.

The caption simply reads: mornings with her.

Sentimental, cheesy man.

Emma does something stupid again, and she taps on the corner of her screen to message him.

@emmaswan22: I like your new tattoos.

It takes under a minute for him to message back. In that minute, she still manages to have a minor anxiety attack.

God, she hopes no one at this dinner party is paying her any attention.

@killianjones: You should see the new one on my ass.

Emma snorts, and suddenly the anxiety washes away. It’s been months of not talking, months of not knowing what’s going on, but this, this is Killian. This is why they’ve stayed in touch over so many years. Something about it, about them, works.

@emmaswan22: I’d love to see it one day.

@killianjones: I’d be happy to show you.

Emma bites her bottom lip.

@killianjones: I miss you, Swan.

It’s such a 180 to the way their conversation was heading that Emma nearly drops her phone. It stumbles out of her hands, but she grabs it before it can hit the hard floor.

@emmaswan22: You look like you’re having a nice time with your family.

@killianjones: Aye, but I hear it’s nice in Boston this time of the year.

@emmaswan22: It’s hot as hell.

@killianjones: But the company would make it worth it.

Emma quickly closes out her phone and stuffs it in the back pocket of her jean shorts. She can’t deal with this. She doesn’t know how. The feelings are too much, too intense, and she’s pushed them down for so long.

Dammit. She’s twenty-eight. She should be able to deal with her own crap by now.

“Emma,” David says, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies with a smile. “I just need to get some air.”

“We’re outside.”

“Some cool air,” she covers. “I need to get some cool air.”

And then she’s gone, ducking inside the stairwell and running down them until she’s outside the building and on her way home.

Killian Jones isn’t the only one who can leave places.

-/-

She tells him that night that she only went on the one date with Graham.

He says he knows. She doesn’t bother to ask how.

They both leave a lot unsaid, but enough was said to begin to make things right.

What a weird situation they have.

More so, how weird would her life feel without it?

Be brave, Emma. Be brave.

@emmaswan22: I miss you too.

-/-

Summer melts into the beginnings of autumn. The heat lingers on, though, not wanting to completely fade away as the leaves begin to turn and fall to the ground. It’s as if it’s holding onto something it cannot bear to let go, the last remnants of the freedom of summer staying until all that freedom is gone.

Summer is gone, however, and even if the heat lingers on for a little while longer, September fades into October, and October fades into November. Eventually, the weather cools, and the leaves all fall. Emma cannot so much as walk down the sidewalk without leaves crunching underneath the heels of her boots. Soon, snow will come with them.

She kicks at one particularly pesky one stuck on her boot. It refuses to knock off and join its friends on the ground, so Emma stops and leans up against a building to pick it off. Usually, she’d leave it, but today has been a hell of a day. She could scream or burst into tears at the slightest irritation. The last thing she needs is to lose her footing because of a wet leaf on her heel skidding across the polished floor of her apartment’s lobby.

God, when did she become that asshole whose apartment has a polished lobby?

Emma pulls the wet leaf off her heel and tosses it to the ground. She checks her boot to make sure nothing else happened to it – she spent way too much money on these boots – and when all is good, she looks up. She’s not in a busy part of the city, just the area around her place. It’s got a few small restaurants, shops, and one too many pharmacies, but the foot traffic in the middle of the day is as low as it’s ever going to get.

So, Emma most definitely must be hallucinating.

She has to be because there is no other explanation to what she thinks she’s seeing across the street.

He has a baseball hat on. That’s not unusual for him, but it’s not exactly…usual. She can’t think of another word. Her brain is not working at the moment.

Because, there, in Williamson Furniture is Killian Jones.

Or, hell, the best damn Killian Jones impersonator on the planet.

What the fuck?

Emma blinks, then blinks again, but he’s still there, running his hand across the top of a table. She starts walking before she can fully think things through. They’ve been talking on and off for the past few months. It’s mostly been through text, but on occasion, when she has a glass of wine in her, she’ll call.

Killian calls more often.

It’s normal and weird all wrapped into one complicated…something. She wants to call it a relationship, but to be honest, she doesn’t know what they are anymore.

She’s never really known, but it’s always been something.

Not just friends, not quite true lovers.

Yet she knows him better than anyone in her life, better than even the people she sees on a daily basis, but seeing him back in her neighborhood without telling her makes her wonder if she really knows him at all.

The surprise didn’t go well last time. They talked about it.

Why the hell would he do it again?

Maybe he simply doesn’t want her to know he’s here.

The door triggers a bell when Emma steps into the shop, and Killian looks up. He’s more shocked to see her than she was to see him, and that’s saying something considering he knows she lives two blocks from here.

“Emma.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

It comes out louder than she meant it to, and Emma’s cheeks blush when she realizes everyone in the place is staring at her. God, she wishes this place was bigger. What she wouldn’t give to be in a Walmart or something right now.

What a weird thought.

Killian smiles, the one she knows he uses to charm people, and Emma swears she feels it in the pit of her stomach. This is a weird day with weird thoughts with even weirder sightings.

“I need a table.”

“Why?”

He arches a brow. “I, unlike you, prefer to eat at a table instead of sitting on the couch.”

“No, why do you need a table? Don’t you need somewhere to put it? The shipping costs from here to…wherever probably suck.”

“I was thinking I’d just call some of my mates and have them help me carry it to my place. Not a great time, but not expensive either.”

“Your place…in DC?”

“My place here.” He pulls some keys out of his jacket pocket and holds them in front of him. “New assignment. A bit more of an office job.”

“I’m sorry…what? What are you talking about?”

It’s like he’s getting joy out of her confusion. The smug ass.

Because she is seriously, definitely confused right now.

She’s not sure if she’s angry or upset or, well, happy.

She hates herself a little bit for feeling that tiny shred of happiness and that even tinier shred of hope.

“Turns out,” Killian says, tapping his fingers on the table and stepping closer to her. He looks the same. Mostly. But his hair is longer and his beard is more than stubble. She likes it. “Turns out that when you’ve established yourself like I have, they do occasionally let you choose to stay in a place of your choice.”

He steps even closer, and suddenly she can feel his warmth. God, he’s always been so warm.

“Did you miss me, Swan?”

Emma laughs, and this time it’s her turn to step into him. It’s so natural, the two of them, like she’s known how to be with him since they met. She’s just never allowed herself to truly be with him. He always leaves just like everyone else has.

But it hurts a hell of a lot more.

“You didn’t tell me you were here.”

“I wanted everything to be official.”

“You aren’t staying,” Emma sighs with a shake of her head. “You never can.”

Killian steps into her and reaches up to hold his hand against her cheek. There’s that warmth again. “I’ve always had the ability to stay, darling,” he whispers as he leans into her and rests his forehead against hers. “I’ve simply never known that you wanted me to.”

“And what makes you think I do now?”

“Last month,” he begins, “we were on the phone, and you said something that stuck with me.”

“What was that?”

“That you wished I could be around more so we could give things a true go.”

Emma remembers that. She stayed up for hours thinking of how stupid she was to say that.

Maybe she wasn’t stupid.

“Did I say that?”

“Every word.” Killian lifts his head and presses his lips to her forehead. “So is it okay with you, Swan? For me to be here?”

“I want you to,” Emma begins. She was brave that night. She can be brave today. “I want you to stay. I’m terrified and confused and don’t really know what the hell we’ve been doing for…for a long time, but if you can, I want you to stay.”

“Aye, I can stay,” Killian whispers before pulling back. “So what do you think about this table?”

Emma laughs and, for the first time, actually takes a look at the table and at all the people who have just been witnessing their little show. “I think I’m a fan.”

Killian’s brow shoots sky high. “You only think you’re a fan?”

Emma hums and runs her hand along the wood. “It might take me awhile to get used to it being around all the time, but I think it might work out just fine. I’ve got a good hunch about it.”

“Me too,” he says before glancing down at her chest. Emma adjusts the flannel of her shirt, which she now remembers isn’t actually hers. “By the way, nice shirt.”

-/

-/-

@qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @galadriel26 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @andiirivera @resident-of-storybrooke @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @taylrsversion @dramioneswan @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @gloriousfemaleworrier @spartanguard @snowbellewells

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Howdy! I got an ask/react for the Fo4 companions! How would a romanced companion react to Sole (preferably female) doing things to make them feel 'stronger' or 'protective' over her? Some random examples: Sole "can't" open something and has to ask for help/Sole conveniently forgets her overcoat when she knows it's going to be cold out, etc. the little things :) (Extra thing: you don't have to but if you could go into a bit more depth for Deacon and Hancock's response that'd be great :D )

Okay, this was so. much. fun. I took a few... creative liberties with the prompt, but I hope it’s still in the realm of what you were looking for! And, of course, thank you so much for the ask! I hope you like it!

Cait: 

     Sole pressed a cold cloth to Cait's cheekbone, and she hissed at the pressure of the contact on her swollen cheek. 

"Shit, sorry, Cait." 

"Eh, I've had worse licks than this."

"I know, but still… this one is definitely my fault." 

"It's hardly yer fault, luv, I'm the one who got meself inte this."

"How? I'm the one who started the fight." Sole protested, pulling her hand back so she could look her companion in the eye. 

"Maybe, but I'm the one who gave you yer drinkin’ problem, and that's what got us inte the fight in the first place." Sole chuckled at that, shaking her head. The two had had this discussion what seemed like a hundred times, both trying to take the blame for the constant slew of bar fights that they found themselves getting into. 

Tonight, it had been four intoxicated men who had decided it was a neat idea to discuss the details of what they’d do to Cait if they could get her drunk enough. While the redhead hadn’t seemed to hear, Sole had briskly made her way over to the group to give her two cents on these ideas of theirs. So, Cait had a point, maybe if Sole hadn’t had quite so much whiskey, she could’ve tried to solve the problem more... verbally. But alas, her confrontation had officially started with her fist landing at the temple of the man nearest to her, effectively knocking him out. And it had ended with Cait hauling Sole to her feet after disposing of the man’s companions. 

Cait picked absent-mindedly at the scabs forming on her knuckles as Sole brought the wet rag up to her face once more, dabbing at the blood next to Cait's lip. 

"God, how is it that you always end up with the injuries? All I got was a bruise to the cheek, and yet, here you are, looking like a human punching bag."

"I can tell ya that. It's cus it's always me rushin' in te save your arse. Why do you always take on more than ye can handle?" Sole snickered, not knowing if Cait found her own words as amusing as she had. 

"Because, I know no matter how many assholes I take on, you'll always be there to save me." Cait made a disgusted sound, rolling her eyes at that, much like Sole thought she would, before letting her emerald gaze meet Sole's eyes. 

"I wish you weren't, but yer damn right." Cait said, and Sole felt a little jump in her chest at the sentiment. Cait wasn’t the most tender person in the wasteland, but somehow, she always seemed to know what to say; to Sole, anyway.

The pair sat silently for a bit as Sole finished cleaning up her defender. Wiping down her bloodied hands, and the remainder of the crusted crimson on her face.

"Are ya done fussin yet? I'm tellin’ you, I'm fine. Can we just go te sleep already?"

"One more spot left." She told her, bringing the rag up to her bruised face once more. Sole's eyes fell to Cait's swollen lips as she drew the cool fabric over them, before leaning in to press her mouth softly to Cait's. Sole pulled away, but stayed close enough for Cait to feel her warm, whiskey-tinged breath fan over her as she whispered, 

"Thank you for saving me tonight. I really was way in over my head." Sole looked down, embarrassed at her admission, as Cait smiled at her. 

"It was my pleasure, luv. As you said, I'll always be there te save yer arse." 

Curie: 

     "You know, you don't have to come to me for something as small as zhis." Curie said as she examined the minor cut on Sole’s arm. “You could patch zhis up yourself easily!” 

“Well…” Sole felt heat rise to her cheeks as she searched for an explanation. She knew that every time she came to Curie for something like this, she was taking up the doctor’s precious time, but she couldn’t help herself. What was she supposed to do when Curie insisted on working all day when they were at a settlement? They usually came to settlements to relax, to help make repairs and look into any problems the settlers might be having, but Curie always insisted on doing check-ups for everyone in their vicinity. Sole loved her selflessness and dedication to her work, but… When were they supposed to spend time together? This is what I get for having a workaholic for a girlfriend.

“You know, infection is a big problem out here. I just thought it would be best to seek the help of a professional.” 

“Oh, of course, of course. How responsible of you.” Sole bit at her lip as Curie laughed at her. Well, she really has caught onto the whole ‘sarcasm’ thing.

 “Fortunately, you do not need to worry about infection in zhis, it iz not deep. But come here, with me.” Curie urged Sole off of the cot she was seated on and brought her to a table at the back of the clinic. 

“Wait here, se vous plait.” With that, Curie disappeared around the corner, and Sole stood around, twiddling her thumbs, as she tried to think of an excuse to get Curie off of work early. 

“I was going to clean my supplies with zhis, but we can do your arm first.” Curie said as she came around the corner, a bucket of soapy water in-hand. 

“Here.” Curie set the bucket onto the table and had Sole hold out her arm as she produced a clean rag from the pocket of her lab coat, and dunked it into the warm water. Sole watched as Curie wrung out the cloth, and brought it to the miniscule wound on her arm. 

It was comical, really, the care that Curie took in cleaning the cut that couldn’t have been more than an inch long, and was almost too thin to see. Another rush of heat made its way to Sole’s cheeks as she realized how ridiculous she must seem to the doctor, but Curie made no complaints as she used the other side of the rag to dry off her arm. 

“Zhere! It should be all better. I can wrap it for you too, if you’d like.” 

“Thanks Curie, you’re a lifesaver. But I don’t think you really need to wrap it.” The synth laughed at her as she threw the rag into a basket and picked up the bucket again. 

“Oh, mon dieu, I don’t know about zhat.” She shook her head, a pink tint coming to her pale cheeks at Sole’s flattery as she turned to go into the back of the clinic again. 

“Wait!” Sole said, reaching out her “good” arm to stop Curie before she could vanish around the corner once more. Curie looked at her, a questioning expression on her face. Sole stood, her hand still wrapped around Curie’s forearm, utterly at a loss of what to say. I just don’t want you to go. It’ll be another four hours until you get off. 

I think you should take a break?

Maybe you should have a half day?

Do you need some help here at the clinic? God, when did I become so damn clingy?

“Hmm.” Curie’s eyes pierced into Sole’s as a knowing look washed over her face. “I zhink I know what it is you want.” Sole just stared ahead, wondering silently if that were true. The doctor set down the bucket yet again, delicately taking a hold of Sole’s “injured” arm once more. Slowly, she brought it upwards, then lowered her head to place her lips gently over the cut. “Iz zhat better?” 

Sole giggled, still embarrassed, but definitely glad she had come to interrupt Curie’s work. I guess I can wait a little longer. Maybe make us a nice dinner for tonight...

“Much. Thanks again, Curie.” 

“Of course! Anytime, mon amour.”

Danse: 

     Sole sat at the kitchen table, draining the last of her coffee as her gaze fell to Danse, where he was seated on the steps outside the front door of her Sanctuary home. He stared ahead blankly, brows knitted together above his lusterless eyes as his hands worked to remove a spot of rust from a piece of power armor he had taken off his suit temporarily. Lately, the ex-paladin had been adept in putting on a show for Sole, making her think that he was okay, even after everything that had changed in his life over the course of a few hours. It had been over a week since he had found out about his true identity, and in that time,  Sole could tell that he had tried to remain strong. For whom, she wasn’t sure. She thought she had made it clear to him that she didn’t care about his “strength” in these times, she just wanted him to get through them, whatever the means. Yet, he only seemed to don this look of despair and hopelessness whenever he thought she wasn’t looking, and if she tried to bring it up, he would always attempt to change the subject, or he would tell her not to worry and simply say that he was still working on “adjusting.” 

She hated when he didn’t talk to her. The seemingly insensitive man was always happy to listen to Sole’s problems and offer what advice he could, often suggesting that she discuss her own issues as a form of therapy. But God forbid she tries to get him to do the same. Sole sighed as she mulled over what to do, and noticed Danse’s head twitch to the side, listening, before his gaze dropped down to focus on his task.

He’s been working on that same spot for almost an hour. If it’s not out yet, I don’t think it ever will be. Sole looked around the room, trying to find something that could possibly serve as a proper distraction for Danse, and her eyes fell to the wooden stereo below the window in the living room. She had left it there because she simply didn’t have the heart to scrap the old thing. Too many good memories surrounded it. Memories of her and Nate, dancing the night away as the records spun on and on playing soft love songs until the sun rose; of her rocking Shaun in her arms as she mosied around the living room, listening to the nursery rhyme vinyls that she had received as gifts at her baby shower... But those memories, they were from another life.

Sole shook her head. This is about him, she thought, not me. I can deal with my shit later. Right now, I need to focus on Danse.

She huffed another sigh, this time a bit louder, and watched as Danse ceased his hand movements and tilted his ear towards her again.

“Is everything alright?” He turned to look at where she sat, and Sole tried to look melancholic.

“It’s just… You know… nevermind, it’s not important.” Just as she assumed he would, Danse stood up and walked inside the house, setting the piece of armor and the rag on the table, and pulled out a chair so he could sit beside her. He looked down at her hands, which rested on top of the table near her empty coffee mug. She could practically see the sweat beading on his forehead as he hesitantly brought one of his large hands to rest over the top of her own. Ever since he found out what he was, he’s been afraid to touch me. So... this is a good sign, at least.

“If something’s wrong, I want to know.” He said as he looked up to meet her gaze, his worried expression matching the concern she was feeling towards him. Sole took a breath to appear as though she was steadying herself.

“It’s just… being in this house. It’s great, I mean, it’s still my home and everything, and I don’t want to go anywhere else, but…” she trailed off, her troubled expression only half-feigned at this point, given the truth behind her words. His eyes never wavered, silently encouraging her to continue.

“Some things are harder to look at than others. And that damn stereo over there just has to be staring straight at me every time I sit down at the table, it’s the hardest one for me to see. It's just, it was a house-warming present from my parents. They gave it to me and Nate after the wedding, and now… well, there are no more records to play on it. They were all ruined, and even if they weren't, I don’t think the thing would work anyway. But every time I see it, it reminds me of the people I’ve lost. My parents… Nate… even Shaun.” Sole didn’t have to fake the tears that came unbidden to her eyes as she recalled the memories of her loved ones, and she knew Danse hadn’t missed a thing when he started rubbing her hand softly with his. They sat there in silence for a moment, as Danse tried to reassure her with his gentle touch.

Then, still remaining silent, Danse stood, reaching his hand forward to brush his thumb over Sole’s cheek, wiping away the tear that had fallen. He then turned towards the living room, but instead of going straight to the stereo, as Sole thought he might, Danse opened the side door that led to the covered driveway. She watched as he doubled back, now approaching the stereo. Sole wasn’t sure what she had expected him to do when she mentioned her problem to him; maybe offer to help her take the thing apart, or try and see if it still worked, or simply give her another perspective on how she should view the piece of 200-year-old furniture. Whatever she expected, it certainly hadn’t been this. 

Danse squatted down in front of the large wooden beast of a stereo, wrapped his broad arms almost all the way around it, and stood, lifting the whole damn thing up until he was standing completely upright with the stereo held firmly to his chest. Sole’s mouth hung open as she remained seated at the table, seemingly paralyzed by the shock of what she was witnessing, as Danse sauntered awkwardly towards the exit. A thick vein protruded from his neck as he twisted the piece of furniture to fit through the door, and made his way out into the driveway.

Sole heard a groan from outside, accompanied by the sound of something hard hitting concrete. She stood up, prepared to head outside and see what exactly he’d done with her “problem,” but before she reached the doorway, she heard him call from outside,

“You can’t still see it, can you?”

“Um… no. But Danse, is it-- I mean, are you okay? It took like, four people to bring that thing in when we first moved it to the house.” The brawny ex-soldier appeared in the doorway, his chest still heaving from the effort of wrestling the wooden monster outside. He nodded to her,

“I'm fine." He huffed, "You don’t need to go out there. I’ll take it apart later, if you’d like. Or we can store it somewhere for the time being.” She shook her head at him, a little smile touching her lips. Even after everything he’s been through, he's still always looking out for me. Even with something as small and insignificant as this.

“You know,” she said quietly, “you didn’t have to do that.” Danse looked down at his feet, seemingly searching for something to say in response.

“But thank you.” Sole finished, and his eyes came back up to meet hers. For a moment, she saw a spark return to Danse’s amber eyes as the smallest hint of a smile softened his expression, and Sole felt hope. Hope for him overcoming his grief in this time of crisis, and hope for herself in being able to move on from the memories that had kept her chained to her past for so long. Together, she felt like the two of them could overcome anything.

Deacon:

     “Yes. Two please.” Sole said as Takahashi voiced the only question he ever seemed to ask. The robot placed two bowls of scrumptious smelling power noodles in front of her, and she reached for the bag of caps hanging from her belt. As she looked down to count her money, she heard a clatter of bottlecaps hitting the counter beside her.

“Got it covered. Come on, let’s dig in.” Deacon grabbed a bowl in each hand and headed over to a couple of empty seats at the bar.

“I thought you were still trying to stay undercover?" Sole gestured to the Diamond City guard outfit that the spy donned. "Doesn’t it kinda ruin the illusion if you’re seen in public with me?” She said as she followed him over, sealing up her cap purse once again.

“What? You’ve never seen one of these guys at the noodle stand? Cuz I sure have. Just don’t talk to me, and I’ll be good.” Sole shook her head as she took a seat beside him, instantly deciding to ignore his request.

“Hey officer, I’ve got a question.” Sole swirled her chopsticks around the steaming bowl in front of her, before taking a bite.

“Yes, citizen?”

“Hold on--” she said through a mouthful of noodles.

Deacon laughed as he looked at her full mouth,

“Why--” He tried to talk through his bout of chuckling, “Why would you say you’re going to ask me a question and then take a big bite of food? What did you think would happen?”

Deacon thought he heard her tell him to ‘shut up,’ but it was hard to tell, given the noodles that filled her mouth, and the fact that she was nearly choking in her own fit of laughter.

Eventually, she managed to swallow her food successfully, and was finally able to get some words out.

"No, okay, serious question--" Deacon interrupted her with a snap of his fingers,

"Serious answer." Her genuine curiosity forced Sole to ignore him, and continue with her question.

"Tell me, why do you always pay for everything?" She asked.

"Ma'am, I am a law-abiding security officer. I always pay for the products that I intend to consume."

"I said serious, Deacon."

"Hey, shush!" He brought a hand up to Sole's mouth at the mention of his name, "What part of undercover did you not get?" She cocked a brow at his faked panic expression, noting the grin that he was trying to hide, as he lowered his head and turned back to his noodles.

"Like, okay," she continued, expanding on her inquiry, "whenever we go anywhere, you always pay for everything, and it's really odd. I've never met anyone in the wasteland who's done that, everyone's too busy trying to keep themselves alive to worry about paying for others. So, what? Are you, like, rich or something? I mean, c'mon, what's the deal? I have caps on me all the time, you know that, right?"

"Oh?" Sole saw his eyebrows rise above the tops of his sunglasses as he turned to look at her, "you don't think I'm doing this out of the goodness of my cold, black, heart, do you? No, I'm running a tab over here, honey. You owe me, big time." Sole narrowed her eyes at him, her uncertainty keeping her lips sealed.

"You mean, you didn’t know? Look, I don't know what to tell you," Deacon continued, "I thought you knew! Man, I'm glad you found out this way. Now it won't be such a rude awakening when the invoice comes."

Deacon turned back to his noodles, shaking his head at the thought. Sole's gaze bore into him, trying to figure out his level of seriousness. I really wish I was better at this. This is why I believed he was a synth for a month and a half.

"And if I don't have the money… you're not gonna call out a hit on me or anything, are you?"

“Hmm," he brought a hand to his chin, stroking his finger over it animatedly, "surely there must be some way you could pay me back…” He turned to look at her, wiggling his eyebrows as he did so, and she rolled her eyes, looking back to her noodles as she scoffed.

"Hey! What's with the face! I was talking about community service. Y'know, helping the children, and the elderly, all that good stuff. Get your mind out of the gutter, perv. And to think, I was going to have you volunteering at the children's hospital next week."

Sole instantly regretted taking another bite, as she tried desperately to fend off a fit of giggling in an effort to keep from choking again.

"I can't keep up with you Deacon," she said as she swallowed her food. "You're gonna kill me one of these days."

"Eh, don't worry, I can pay for the funeral." Sole raised a hand and shoved him in the shoulder playfully as he grinned at her.

"Okay, really, though. You do know I can pay occasionally, right?"

"Yeah, I know, I'm your partner, remember? I'm pretty much right next to you whenever you get paid.”

"So… then, why do you do it?"

"Do what?" Sole's nostrils flared at his obnoxious question.

"No? Joke didn’t land? Okay. Serious time," he flung his hands in the air as if surrendering, "I read about something… wasn't it, like, customary before the war to pay for stuff for your… friends?" Sole scrunched her eyebrows in thought,

"Friends? Not really. Significant other? Yeah, a little more common." She looked to where Deacon stared down at his noodles.

Is that, is he... blushing?

"But hey, I don't mind if you don't." She finished, tilting her head forward, in an attempt to catch Deacon's eye. She spotted a flushed little grin spread on his face, before he leaned his head back, restoring his cool composure.

"Oopsies, sorry about that, then. But I did warn you, I'm pretty new to this whole friend thing. So… you know, that's on you."

Hancock: 

     The ghoul lounged comfortably on the couch in the Old State House, idly playing with his combat knife as he waited for Sole to finish readying herself for their outing.

“Ahhh!” 

Hancock leapt from his place on the couch at the sound of Sole’s shriek, his combat knife instinctively falling into a position poised for violence.

He ran across the hall, crashing through the door and into the bedroom. Teeth bared and eyes wide, his head lashed from side to side in search of Sole’s assailant. He spotted her, cowering in the corner as she raised a shaky hand to point at the opposite side of the room.

Hancock’s glare followed Sole’s fear-stricken gaze, and he started towards the desk in the corner she had pointed to, but ultimately failed to see what it was causing her distress.

He turned back to her, an eyebrow cocked, as he raised the silent question of what had been the cause of her terror.

“On the desk!” She said, pointing towards it again, this time with greater intensity. Hancock slowly approached the corner of the room, knife still at the ready, as his eyes continued to search for any sign of… well, anything, really. An exasperated smile spread across his lips as his eyes fell to your attacker. A small, brown, spider picked its way through the objects littering the top of the desk, and Hancock had to hold back a laugh. 

“This is what had you all riled up? Oh, sweetheart, he’s just a little spider. C’mon now, he won’t hurt ya.”

“You don't know that.” She said firmly, her round eyes still trained on the desk. It had sounded like a joke, but her expression remained serious.

“Alright, you want me to get rid of him for you?” She nodded her head vigorously, and he chuckled as he turned his attention to the unsuspecting arachnid. He watched as it delicately stepped over a series of writing utensils, and Hancock frowned. Bringing his knife up to the top of the desk, he rested the flat of his blade directly in the spider’s path,

“That’s it, up you go, little guy.” He said quietly, as it stepped onto his steel vessel. Hancock twisted the knife around in his grip as the spider crawled around it, and made his way to the balcony. Once outside, he tipped his knife to the railing, encouraging the spider to crawl off the tip of the blade. Once the spider was safely making its way along the top of the railing, Hancock turned back towards the doorway.

“There,” he said, stepping back inside, “Now he can’t hurt ya, he’s all the way out there.”

“You… you didn’t kill it?” She asked, tentatively standing up.

“Nah, we only hurt the ones who hurt somebody else first, remember?”

“You don’t know that he didn’t hurt anybody.” She mumbled as Hancock sauntered over to her.

“Aw, give him a chance, maybe he can change, y’know? He doesn't really seem like the troublemaking type to me, anyhow.” He brought his hands to your waist, a smug expression playing on his face.

“Oh yeah, just like the way you always tell people you’ve changed?” She said, sliding her hands up his chest to rest them on his shoulders. “Way I see it, you’re still just as bad an influence on me as when I met you.” She said, a playful glint dancing in her eyes.

“Hmm, maybe you’re right, sunshine. Maybe I can't change any more. Maybe it's just my nature to be a bad influence on you.” He said quietly, a wolfish grin spreading across his face as he leaned into her. 

“Huh, maybe so. But bad influence or not," she pulled away from him slightly, to look up into his smoky eyes, "you really did save me back there. And, I know it seems silly... but I am grateful." His eyes softened at her little confession and, though he knew this too was silly, he couldn’t help but feel a swell in his chest at the thought of "saving" her. 

“And I’ll always be here to save you... from any spiders we happen to come across.” He pecked her lips tenderly, their close proximity practically forcing his mouth to hers. He should’ve known better, once he had a taste, he couldn’t get enough of her. 

“Even though,” He continued, as he pressed a kiss to her nose, “I’ve seen you,” then to her right cheek, “take down,” now her left, “deathclaws,” another to her jaw, “single handedly,” and now down to her neck, “I’ll be sure to handle all the unruly arachnids.” He whispered into the crook of her neck, before moving upwards again and pressing one more kiss to her forehead. He watched, grinning like an idiot in love, as a crimson flush crept up her cheeks. He wasn’t sure if it was from the embarrassment she felt regarding her phobia, or from the heat of his lips on her skin, but he decided it didn’t matter. Either way, he found it irresistibly adorable, and with that, he set his sights on her lips once more. 

MacCready: 

     MacCready sat on the floor, legs crossed, as he counted his ammunition cartridges. There were four of the .308, six of the .50, ten of the 10mm, and a few of the .38. There certainly wasn’t as much as he’d hoped there’d be, but he wasn't worried. Sole always seemed to have ammo to spare, and she wasn't stingy with it like he was. It was yet another perk to being with her.

He gathered his full magazines together near the ammo bag resting beside him, so he could begin placing them inside in preparation for their next outing.

"How are you doing over there, babe?" He asked as he stored the outlying bullets in little bags.

"I think... you know what, nevermind. I'm good." MacCready ceased his action, turning to look at where Sole knelt on the carpet of her Diamond City home. A pile of bullets and empty magazines surrounded her, the stack of seemingly full cartridges was pitifully small compared to his own.

"You, ah, need some help?"

"... No.” 

"Mmhm, okay.” he narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, but she wouldn’t look up at him.

“Well,” he continued, “I'm going to put my full mags in the ammo bag, why don't I grab yours too." The sniper stood up, and made his way over to her, bending down to grab the cartridges that looked full.

"Wait! No, these, um, these ones aren't done yet." MacCready's eyebrows furrowed, but the shadow of a smile began to spread to his lips as he realized what was going on.

"So," he said, kneeling down so he could see her pretty little embarrassed face. "You haven't finished loading any of them?"

“No." She said quietly, refusing to meet his gaze. MacCready lowered his head so that he was looking up at her as her eyes stayed fixed on the floor. A lock of hair was draped over her forehead, obstructing his view. He reached a hand up and gently pushed it behind her ear, leaning in to give her nose a small peck with his lips.

"You want some help?" He said as Sole raised her gaze to meet his, a small blush forming on her cheeks. She didn't say anything, only nodded yes.

"Alright, you know, you could’ve just asked. I might have said ‘no’ the first time, but you know me, I eventually would’ve come around." MacCready said as he set to work with the magazines that had appeared full, but in reality, only housed half of the amount of ammunition that they could fit within them. He snickered in understanding, it really was the second half of bullets that was hard to load.

"Thank you, sweetie. You’re just so much better at it than I am." She said as she watched his practiced fingers make quick work of what probably would've taken her another hour.

"Of course... but, you are paying me for this, right?"

"Ohh, I think we might be able to work something out." She said, a sly grin playing at her lips.

He just chuckled at her words, but she could've sworn his fingers starting moving a whole lot faster at her suggestive phrasing.

Nick: 

“Tell me, why is this now a regular part of my job duties?" Ellie asked as she finished sewing up yet another tear in Nick's trench coat. "You know you're just going to end up with more holes in this coat every time you leave the office, and I don't seem to recall you ever caring about this old thing's appearance before…" she trailed off.

Nick knew that Ellie was fishing for answers. One specific one in particular, but he liked the ambiguity of the situation. It was this little game he and his secretary would play. He would leave clues here and there that pointed to the nature of his and Sole's relationship and wait to see if Ellie would say anything. All while she continued to try and force the truth from him verbally. He wasn't going to lose this round.

"What? A private detective can't keep up appearances for his clients? I think it's just good for business."

"I think it's a load of bologna. You know we gave Sole her own trench coat after she saved you, right? She could just wear her own, rather than steal yours every time you two go out on a case."

"What kinda fun would that be? I don't mind it, it's not like I get cold anyway. And the poor little lady never knows how long we're going to be gone, so I don't think it's her fault when we're out after dark and she wants to wear it."

Ellie rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh as she poked the needle back through the worn, beige fabric once again.

"She's got you so tightly wound around her finger, it's a wonder she doesn't call you 'Jared'."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, it’s something I’ve read about, I guess it was a ring shop, or a jewelry company, or something before the war. I thought it sounded clever. Just humor me, won't you?"

The synth just shook his head, uttering a low chuckle as he watched Ellie tighten the thread, forcing the last hole closed.

"There." She said, tying up the last bit of string left over, before cutting off the excess. "It's done." 

"Perfect, thanks a million, doll. I'll see you soon, I've just gotta head out for a--"

"Date?" She finished the sentence for him suggestively, raising her eyebrows in question.

"A case. We're going to head out on a case, Ellie."

"Uh huh, sure. Well, here," she handed him back the coat, "now she doesn't need to worry about the cold air seeping in through all those holes. Let me know if you want me to insulate the damn thing when winter rolls around."

Valentine smiled, an uncharacteristically goofy smile, at Ellie's words. He was so obvious, why didn't he just come clean already? 

"Will do, I’m sure she’ll enjoy that. Thanks again, Ellie. You're the best."

"And don't you forget it." She said, turning back to the mound of paperwork still on her desk beside her sewing supplies.

“Ah well, I’ll get him to admit to it one of these days.” Ellie mumbled as she began sorting through the files in front of her.

Piper:

     Piper looked up at Scarlet from the table in the corner of the Dugout Inn, 

"Yes, so I think we'll both have a nuka cola to start off. Then I'll do the crispy squirrel bits, and she'll have the Salisbury steak." Piper pointed her finger to Sole, who was busy looking down at the table, before making a last-minute decision, "Aaand you'd better bring some of those snack cakes at the end, too." 

"Hm, as usual." Scarlet chuckled at that as her pen scribbled across the notepad in her hand. 

"But that sounds good, you two. I'll have that out in just a minute." The waitress grabbed their menus, Sole reaching up to hand it to her with a smile on her face before turning to peer at her partner from across the table. She waited for Scarlet to disappear around the corner to the kitchen before speaking.

"You really don't find it annoying?" She asked. 

"What?" Piper loosened the scarf around her neck as she looked questioningly at Sole. 

"I know that I ask you to order for me whenever we go out to eat, or drink, and it's gotta be getting a little old at this point, right?" 

"No, not at all, Blue!" Piper said as she took her hat off and placed it on the table, mussing her hair a bit with one hand. "This reporter actually finds it to be pret-ty endearing. It's like, the one thing you can't do. You’re good at, like, everything else, but this I get to help you with. It's a welcome change." Piper's hands dropped to the top of the table as she began absent-mindedly fiddling with her silverware. But her eyes stayed on the woman across the table as Sole smiled at her, still appearing a little embarrassed. 

"I don't know why I can't do it," Sole tried to explain, "I've just never been able to order for myself, even before the war. Just one of those bizarre anxiety things, I guess."

"Well, like I said, I don’t mind at all. In fact, I think it's cute." 

 Preston:

     Sole approached her Lieutenant, shaking her head at him, and she saw him sigh.

“No, the river just keeps going until it reaches a ravine." She told him, "And it’s too steep to climb down. Any luck on your end?”

“Hmm, not really. It's a little more shallow upstream, but it’s still about ten feet wide.”

“Damn.” She said, “We need to get across.” A settlement had sent a distress call across radio freedom almost an hour ago, if Sole and Preston took any longer, they might be too late.

“I guess we’ll just have to go for it.” She said, her face painting a picture of clear disgust at the thought of wading through the murky water.

“Well, let’s at least head upstream a bit. To the shallow part.”

“Okay.” Sole said begrudgingly, her footsteps unconsciously heavy as she followed her companion to the shallow part. Not shallow enough, I bet.

And she was right. As the pair arrived, Preston turned to Sole to gauge her reaction, noticing the way her nose wrinkled at the sight of the brown, swirling water.

Preston heaved a sigh, and started forward. Before he reached the waterline, he turned to see Sole still standing back, feet seemingly glued to the muddy ground. He couldn’t help but smile sympathetically at her, eyebrows creasing upwards as he watched her eyes look longingly at the far shore.

“Come here.” He said.

“I know, I know. Just start going, I’ll follow.” Preston chuckled at the exasperation in her voice. Instead of repeating his command, he simply walked over to her as her eyes remained locked on the other side of the river, when he reached her, he slowly pressed his hand to the small of her back.

“Hey, what are you--?” Before Sole could finish her question, Preston had scooped her up into his arms, bridal style. She let out a squeak of surprise, and he couldn’t keep himself from grinning.

“Is this okay? He asked, the brim of his hat pressing against Sole’s forehead as he looked at her.

“A warning would’ve been nice.” Preston laughed, shaking his head as he adjusted his grip on her, ensuring she was secure before making his way towards the river.

“Hold onto me.” He said, and Sole wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders.

“Ready?” Sole nodded to him, and Preston took a step forward, frigid water seeping in through his boots as he waded in.

“Wait, are you sure you want to do this?” She said, her eyes trained on the river as it raised up to Preston’s knees.

“I might be wrong, General, but I think I already am.” He said, the amusement in his voice faint as he gritted his teeth against the cold.

She felt his body shutter as he continued forward, the water reaching up almost to his waist, as he held Sole up higher to ensure it wouldn’t reach her. She let out a small sigh of relief as they reached the end of the channel. The water became more shallow, and Preston quickened his pace with each step that brought him closer to their destination.

Once completely out of the water, and past the muddy shoreline, Preston finally set Sole down gently. As her feet touched the ground, Sole kept her arms wound about Preston’s neck.

“Thank you, love.” She said, her voice soft as she addressed him as her partner rather than her Lieutenant.

“It was my pleasure, m’lady.” He said, briefly removing his hat from his head as he did so. Sole smiled at him warmly, but detected the faint chattering of his teeth, and when she looked down, she couldn’t help but notice the goosebumps littering his skin. 

“Oh, Preston…” Sole said as she pressed herself to him, rubbing her hands against his back and arms quickly, in an attempt to warm him with her friction. She felt hot air wash over her neck as he released a shaky breath of relief, leaning into her touch. The pair stood there for a moment, Preston syphoning off Sole’s warmth as she tried to repay him for his earlier act of kindness. Her hands slowed from her vigorous rubbing to a more tender sort of touch, before Preston’s head shot up.

“Shit, Sole, the settlement! We’ve got to move!”

X6-88: 

     This had become a common routine of theirs, and X6 wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. Every time they were in Sole’s Diamond City home, she would insist on making dinner for the two of them. That, X6 didn’t mind too much; although, after consuming nothing but food supplements in the Institute for so long, it did take some getting used to. But eating the food wasn’t the issue, it was the making of it that had him perplexed. 

As far as he knew, Sole had been the one to install the shelves in her kitchen; and yet, every time she was in need of a spice of some sort, or a condiment, or one of her dishes, she would ask X6 for assistance, given that the shelves were apparently too high for her to reach. Why Sole continued to store her items on the too-tall shelves, he couldn’t begin to guess. But here she went again, asking him to reach for the box of blamco mac n’ cheese on the top shelf, the highest one, one that he could barely even reach. X6 decided it was time to voice his confusion.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes?” She asked distractedly as she focused on the strength of the flame burning on her stove.

“Why do you use these shelves?”

“What else would I use, silly?” X6 scrunched up his face at that, trying to hold back a verbal scoff at her wording.

“Would you rather I just store everything on the floor?”

“Well, no. That would… hardly be sanitary.” He wasn’t sure if she was joking with him or not. Did she think he was joking with her?

“Why do you ask, X?” She grabbed the box from his hand as he extended it towards her, and began tearing at the top of it with her finger.

“Well, it seems nonsensical to me, for you to continue placing all of your items out of your reach. What happens if I’m not here?” Sole placed a saucepan filled with water over the stove and turned to look at him.

“But you are here.” she said, shrugging, “What? Don’t you like helping me out in the kitchen?”

X6 blinked. What the hell did this have to do with what he liked?

“Well… I don’t dislike it. I’m just having trouble with-- I don’t-- I just... do you want me to fix the shelves so they are the right height for you?”

“No, I like them the way they are.”

X6 felt his eye twitch from beneath his shades. Confusion built up inside him, making the courser feel as though he might explode.

“Ma’am--” His voice faltered as he realized he didn’t know what else to say.

“I know they’re not practical, X. But you can reach them, and I like that about them. Even when I’m here alone, the fact that I can’t make dinner without you makes me smile.” X6 furrowed his eyebrows. That explanation didn’t help at all.

“Don’t you get hungry?”

“I'm not completely helpless, you know, I can usually figure something out.” She attempted to look annoyed at his question, but her grin gave her away. X6 narrowed his eyes at her, still not completely satisfied with the way the conversation had gone. He was still just as confused as he was before.

“Huh.” He said, mulling over all she had said on the subject. “Perhaps... in that case, we should ensure that I am by your side for any missions near Diamond City. That way, I can be sure the future director of the Institute doesn’t go hungry.”

“Well, if you think that’s necessary, who am I to argue?” The left side of X6’s lip tilted upwards in an expression of amusement, and Sole openly smiled at him, laughing a little to herself as she turned her attention back to the boiling water on the stove.

“Can you hand me the pepper mill? Second shelf.”

“I know which shelf. But yes, I can.” He said, turning around to grab it, as Sole continued grinning to herself.

Now I just have to make sure he never looks under my bed. Sole thought. If X6 ever found the step stool she had hidden there, what would happen to her kitchen helper?

[idamariaw]

A one-shot where you meet a british man, a bit clumsy for his own good sometimes but at least it brought him to you.

This is dedicated to @atlafan, Happy Birthday 🌸

The air was humid, warm and had a strong scent of your favourite jasmin bodywash as you carefully stepped out of the bathtub to continue to get ready for your date tonight. A date that you’ve been looking forward to all week and made it way easier to get through classes and exams, even though you didn’t know much about Harry yet. That was his name, Harry Styles.

You met him just over a month ago in the coffee shop near your apartment where you spend most off your afternoons to study or read, the earthy and warm environment having a calming effect and the staff always sweet. You were reading an article for your course in political science, Stevie Nicks ’Wild Heart’ playing with your notes and books neatly in a pile by your side as eveything sudden flew to the ground with a large thud. It startled you a bit and you took your headphones off to register what caused the mess while you heard a voice beneeth you along your dropped belongings,

”Shit! I-i’m so sorry. My guitar bag got stuck in the corner of your books, I really didn’t mean to.”

A mop of chocolate curls cought your eyes while speaking to you with his deep voice and keeping to apologize even though it didn’t matter, you knew it was an accident. After picking up your things he got up to his feet and you got the oppurtunity to really look at him now. Tall, broad build at the shoulders, skinny jeans with a button up in different patterns, curls to his chin and the most beautiful green eyes you’ve ever seen.

”I’m so fuckin’ clumsy, first time at this coffee shop and this happens.” Now you noticed he had an accent, a british one? Well if your cheeks weren’t burning before they sure were now.

”Oh no it’s okay! I promise. Accidents happen, i’m pretty clumsy myself so you’re not alone. I was getting zoned out on my work anyway so you helped me with that” You said with a smile to reasure you’re not irritated or anything.

”Thank you for trying to make me feel better, but your muffin got on the ground as well. Let me buy you another please?” He furrowed his eyebrows a bit and pouted his heartshaped lips and you just couldn’t say no.

”Oh and I’m Harry by the way, Harry Styles.”

After that you asked him to sit down with you and tried to give him a good impression of the shop although it’s caotic beggining. You learned that he actually was brittish, was majoring in English Literature, wrote music and sang covers with his band.

You met him every now and then the following weeks and after sharing a carrot cake with a latte a few days ago he finally got the courage to ask you what you thought about for weeks,

”Would you be willing to see me outside this coffee shop for dinner on Friday? Please?”

And here you were, freshly out the bath and in your closet looking for an outfit. It was early autumn and Harry said he’d pick you up at 6, so a leo printed long skirt and a sage green knitted sweather along with maroon converse and a bamboo knitted purse with some jewelry would work. A pretty little matching lace bralette and panties underneath just in case things would go that way. Just as you put on a layer of your strawberry flavoured lip gloss you heard the doorbell ring and your heart skipped a beat. You looked over yourself once more before getting your purse and rushed to the door.

There he stood, so good looking it almost made you angry, with his signature black skinny jeans, a black button up, brown boots, a tan coat and hair up in a bun.

”Hello darling, I’m sorry if i’m a tad early. These are for you by the way.” He came in for a hug and kissed your cheek as he handed you a bouquet of red roses and you got a chance to take in his strongly scented perfume that consumed your senses.

”No I was just ready so it’s okay! Wow thank you, i’ve never gotten flowers before. I’m just gonna put these in a vase and I’ll be right with you.” He furrowed his eyebrows a bit as he leaned against the treeshold.

”Really? Hm I’ll remember that then. I’ll just wait by the car, we’re going for a drive about 20 minutes away if that’s okay. Take your time darling.”

As said, he waited by the car and opened the door for you on the passenger side and then you were on you way.

”Can I have a guess at where we’re going? Dinner somewhere maybe?” You asked even though you didn’t really have any but you’ve always loved surprises and he didn’t even know that.

”Well you can guess darling but i’m not sure you’re gonna figure it out that easy. But yes, we will have dinner in a way.” He answered you with a crooked smirk, showcasting his dimples.

After the 20 minute drive he parked by a black steele double gate leading the way to something you were quite familiar with but haven’t visited in ages.

”The botanical garden?” You asked surprised while Harry opened the door for you to step out.

”Yeah, is that alright with you? I figured as you like the atmosphere at the coffee shop so much this could be nice.” He said a bit shyly.

”Are you kidding me? Ofcourse I love it, I used to be here as a kid with my parents a lot but haven’t been in ages!”

”Thank god, I got nervous there for a second. I’m just gonna get some things in the car but you can start walking up and I’ll meet you at the front.” He said as he started to pick some things out from the back.

You felt giddy and excited as you approach the building and started to walk up to the front like Harry told you. It was when you came to the entrance that you noticed it’s closed and locked. Did Harry know this? Then you felt a hand at the small of your back and the smell of his perfume announced his presens as you turned around and what you saw made you melt to a puddle inside. The guitarbag was secured aganist his back and in his arms he held a picnic basket with a blanket and filled with all kind of goods.

”An evening picnic at the botanical garden with some live music, can’t go wrong with that can we?” He said with a cheeky shrug even though you could sense the nerves in his eyes.

”Seriously? That’s so nice Harry, oh my god. It’s to much to be honest. But how do we get in? And is it even aloud?” You didn’t want to doubt him or his plans but you couldn’t help it as it was actually closed.

”Hm don’t need to doubt me darling. I know the owners son as I helped him with a poem analysis in our class so he owned me a favour.” He explanied as he fished up the key in his coatpocket and opened the door with ease.

The setting and environment was everything you remembered from when you were younger and visited this place, green and thriving plants and vegetation everywhere, even a little pond in the middle with a fountain. The ceiling was made of pure glass so you could clearly see the sky that began to darken and stars starting to shine through, it was breathtaking.

”I was thinking we could set up and get up these stairs close to the roof to we get the best view.” You heard Harry speak up as he lead the way up to a white spiral stair that got you to a spot near the roof to spread out everything and sit comfortably.

He really didn’t spare anything on the food or drink, a nice rosé wine, fruits and berries of all kinds and a fancy charcuterie board.

”Harry I hope you know that you didn’t really need to do so much for our date, a romcom with a burger and fries would have been just as nice. But I really appriciate this, thank you so much.” So said honestly because it was true, just being with him was more than enough.

”Thank you for being honest darling but it’s not to much. You deserve the effort and I want to show you how important this is for me, how important you are for me. Feed me a strawberry please? And do you have any song requests?” He said as he brought up the guitar from its bag.

”Maybe ’Leather and Lace’ by Stevie Nicks if you know that one?” You asked softly as you brought the strawberry to his pouty heartshaped lips and your throat got a bit dry when he hummed against the fruit as he took a bite.

”Mmh, thank you darling. And yes I know that one, a pretty big Stevie fan myself actually.”

He said as he started to play the strings on the guitar, the melody started to fill the garden and softly singing the lyrics made everything complete. It was almost like the man in front of you couldn’t be real with how perfect he looked.

”You’ve been staring at my lips quite a lot this evening.”He said taking out of your trance and making you blush down your neck.

”W-what? Oh i’m sorry Harry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…” You started to explain yourself but he cut you off quickly,

”Shh, no darling it didn’t make me uncomforable at all. Come here please.” He made grabby hands at you as you sat opposite to him on the blanket so you could come up to his lap.

”I promise you it didn’t. I’ve been looking at you too you know, so beautiful today it makes my heart ache. So happy and thankful, proper cuite you are. Must have the sweetest mouth to. Would you let me have a taste?” He said as his fingers came to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and lips almost touching yours.

”Yes Harry please.” You almost whimpered against his mouth until you felt his lips softly pressing aganist yours. You shifted in his lap to wrap your fingers in the nape of his neck below the bun to deepen the kiss, Harry leaning back to take a breath.

”Tastes like strawberrys darling, gonna give me a toothache with this sweet mouth of yours.”

You continued to kiss for a while and as he moved down to your neck he felt you shift against him more and he got the courage to lay you down on the blanket and hover over you to get better acess to the rest of you.

”Can I take this off? Or will you be cold?” He asked while playing with the hem of your sweather.

”No I want it off please, I won’t be cold.” You barely finished the sentence before the sweather was off and Harry started to kiss from you neck down to the crease of your breasts.

”Smells like flowers darling, and so soft. Perfect tits you have.” His raspy voice sent a shudder down your core the same time as he carefully touched your breasts and started to kiss them through your lacy bralette.

”What’s this hm? A fuckin nipple piercing? Almost as if you’re tryin to kill me, fuck.” Oh yeah, you almost forgot about that one in your right nipple and he sucked and nipped at it as a man obsessed.

Being teased and played with for so long now made you whimper again and you tried to buck your hips into him for more friction now as you started to ache from your lower region.

Harry noticed this and made the decision to use this against his favor.

”Do you want my mouth somewhere else darling? Seems like your aching pretty bad. Or fingers maybe? Need you to talk to me.”

”Yes please, I want your mouth on me so bad. Please Harry.” If you weren’t so worked up you would feel embarassed for your neediness but you just couldn’t care right now.

”So polite, ofcourse I’ll give it to you. Anything you want, you’ll have. Can I take the skirt off?”

You nodded quickly and he got down so he was facing your core and budged up the skirt around your hips. He kissed your mound over your panties and looked up at you with a cheeky smirk.

”Matching knickers, hm? You’re flattering me darling, being so pretty for me.”

”I-i was just being hopeful…” You let out a breathy laugh at his observation feeling the blush creeping to your cheeks again.

”I was to if i’m being honest but I didn’t want to push you into anything, i’m so thankful that you let me see you like this but I really want to take these of as pretty as they may be and taste you properly. Smells so fuckin’ good I’m going insane.” He took the panties of and let out a low growl while spreading you open with his fingers and see how you were glistening from the wetness under the starlight. Going in for a long stripe with his tounge from your slit to your swollen nub, sucking and nibbling at it just the right way to make you give out a loud shaky moan. He continued playing with your clit with his tounge and lapping up all the sweetness he could get while he felt your legs starting to shake against his head and your moans only got louder.

”Making such pretty noices for me darling, keep going. Need to know that I make you feel good. Want my fingers as well while I play with your clit? Already so swollen for me.”

”Yes fuck i’m gonna cum soon, please Harry I want your fingers please…”It was all you could say before you felt two of his fingers press against your slit and tounge going back to your clit. Your hands found his hair and he let put a growl against you as you tugged on it harder than you intendent, small strais of hair coming out from the bun.

”You can cum darling, I’ve got you. Being so good for me and letting go like this. Sweetest pussy I’ve ever had, so so fucking good for me. Let me have it, please.” He continued to thrust his fingers as he said his dirty words and that sent you off the edge and gave you the most intense orgasm of your life. Small tears rolled down your cheeks and Harry kissed your inner thighs to help you come down. He licked his fingers clean and covered you again with the skirt, going up to face you and kiss your lips.

”Mmh, hi pretty girl. Felt good?” He asked nuzzling against your nose and stroking your cheek.

”Oh my god, yes. You’re literally perfect Harry, thank you.” You closed your eyes and cuddled into his side as he laid beside you looking up to the stars against the glass ceiling.

”No I’m not darling but thank you. What do you say about cleaning up and head over to mine, watch a movie and I can make you a cuppa? Sounds good?” He asked you before whispering quitly to himself ”And thank god for me being a clumsy fool.”