#i thought they were going to off molly i was screaming my heart was on the floor DON'T TOUCH HER

[whiteshipnightjar]

this was the tensest insanity (affectionate) i've ever seen. that whole ending sequence.... OH MY ACTUAL FREAKY SLOW HORSING GOD. you could hear river's panicked breathing in the credits. YOU COULD HEAR RIVER'S PANICKED BREATHING IN THE CREDITS. what an episode. this show is incredible. extraordinary genius.

[roosterforme]

You Can Handle It | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When your husband dominates on the pitchers mound in his recreational league game, you're a little bit turned on. But when you get him alone in the dugout, you realize that having your big, sweaty pitcher all to yourself might just be your fantasy.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, smut, role-play, sweaty sex and blowjob

Length: 2300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32

You were on the edge of your seat on the bleachers at the ballpark near the naval base. Bradley was pitching for the Navy Waves, and they were about to win against the team of Marines that came in undefeated. Until now. 

The sun was setting, and the stadium lights were buzzing to life. It was hot out, but Everett was on your lap anyway, and you were cheering so loudly you thought you might lose your voice. You were both wearing your matching BRADSHAW shirts and hoping for a win. "Come on, Bradley! You can do it two more times!"

Everett cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Let's go, Dad!"

And when you turned to look at Molly, she was bouncing Charlie on one knee and staring intently at the game and Bob in the outfield. "Holy hell, the Marines are undefeated," she said, gasping as Bradley threw another strike. 

"Not for long!" you and Everett said in unison. Bradley just needed to get this batter out and then one more. And then the Navy Waves would be the only team in the rec league with a perfect record. 

When the catcher threw the ball back to Bradley, he held it in his glove and removed his hat. He turned to look in your direction as he wiped his forehead with his forearm. You could tell he was exhausted. He looked like he only had a few pitches left in him after nine innings, but he still smiled at all four of you. 

"I know you can do it, Coach!" you shouted, and he nodded before turning back toward home plate. 

"He's gonna do it," Molly said softly. And then you watched your husband strike out the batter. 

You and Everett were on your feet and cheering as another Marine came up to bat. This could be the last one. Bradley just needed to control his pitches. He was so proud of you now that you could tell apart his slider, fastball and curveball, and you watched him wind up and throw his signature slider. You gasped as the bat made solid contact with the ball, sending it up high in the air. 

"Come on, Bob!" Molly shouted as the ball seemed to hang out in the air deep over the outfield before falling down into Bob's glove. And then the game was over. The Navy Waves had won. 

You, Molly and Everett all screamed while you covered Charlie's ears. They would get to go on to play the championship game in two weeks, and you would get to cheer them on in your BRADSHAW and FLOYD shirts. 

Everyone in the Waves uniforms crowded Bradley on the pitcher's mound, and the other team of disgruntled players all walked back to their dugout and started packing their equipment. "Can I go down yet?" Everett asked, looking up at you with pleading eyes. 

"Yeah. Go ahead." You watched your son take off down the steps and walk through the opening in the fence. And as soon as he started running across the infield, Bradley broke free from his teammates and went to pick him up in a big hug that had your heart melting. 

Molly nudged you in the side, and you smiled at her. "Why don't you let us take Ev home for the night. It's Saturday, and he can play with Charlie tomorrow morning."

"Really?" you asked, stroking Charlie's cheek with your thumb while he sucked on his pacifier. 

"Yeah, Ev loves playing with Charlie, and it will give me a little break, too. Besides, I can tell you want to do some nasty shit with my turd-in-law," she said with a grimace.

You bit your lip and said, "Thanks. Ev will love this idea. And so do I."

"Honestly," Molly huffed, "he makes it hard for me to be mean to him sometimes." She nodded toward Bradley where he had Everett sitting on his shoulders on the pitcher's mound. Your son seemed happier with each passing day that Bradley was in your lives. 

The players were starting to disperse now, and Bob was headed your way with his bag as you passed him on the stairs. "Nice catch," you said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

He blushed and thanked you, and you watched him wrap Molly and their son up in a hug before you headed down onto the field. Bradley's hat was on backwards now, and while he still looked worn out from the long game, he was smiling as you got closer. 

"Nice job, Coach," you said as you pressed your hand to his sweaty jersey, and he leaned in to kiss you while Everett ran around. With a soft grunt, you felt your husband's hands wrap around your waist. The overhead lights were bright, and his body was arm, and everything felt right. 

"Did it for you. And Ev," he whispered, his mustache brushing your skin. 

"We love you. You're the best," you replied, rubbing yourself against the front of him. When your hand skimmed his white baseball pants, you felt hard plastic.

Bradley chuckled and said, "That's just my athletic cup, Kitten. But if you want me hard for you later, I'm sure that can be arranged."

You glanced over your shoulder and saw most of the rest of the players and coaches had cleared out. "Hey, Ev," you called out to your son. "Do you want to have a sleepover with Aunt Molly and Uncle Bob?"

His eyes lit up. "Can I play with Charlie and help feed him breakfast in the morning?" he asked. 

When you nodded he ran over to hug you and Bradley before racing off to Molly who then shouted down, "Have fun. But don't tell me anything about it later."

"What does that mean?" Bradley asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. He smelled like fresh sweat and his deodorant. The strands of hair that peaked out from his cap were damp, and you absolutely did not want to wait until you got him home. 

You unbuttoned the top of his jersey and pressed your nose against his chest hair. "Do you know when the stadium lights turn off for the night?" you asked before pressing a kiss to his chest. 

"I think they're on a timer," he rasped as you unzipped his pants. And then the most wonderful thing happened. The bright lights started to dim as the bulbs shut off, and you grinned up at him. He still looked a little puzzled as you ran your fingers along the elastic of his jockstrap. "You remember your ballfield fantasy that you told me about?"

His eyes lit up as the lights got dimmer. "Are you serious right now?"

"Yes."

Bradley tipped his head back and groaned. "The sexy bat girl gives me head in the dugout?"

"Only if you want it."

You screeched as Bradley picked you up and hauled you off the field like it was on fire. "Oh, I fucking want it, Kitten," he growled, setting you down next to the bench where it was dark. The last few cars were pulling out of the lot, and you could see their headlights reflecting on the concrete wall at the back of the dugout. But it was quiet and covered and Bradley smelled so good as he caged you in against the wall, pressing his hands to the cool concrete on either side of your head.

"That was a really good game," you said softly, tugging him closer by the open fly of his snug pants. 

"Yeah? You liked that?" he grunted.

"Mmhmm," you moaned. "All the bat girls think you're the best and hottest player on the team. I wish I could wear your name on the back of my shirt." 

Bradley smirked as you braced your hands on his biceps and licked a long stripe up his neck and along his jaw. You could feel his stubble and taste the salt of his drying sweat, and you had to squeeze your thighs together against your arousal. 

"I have an idea," he whispered, pressing his lips to yours briefly. "How about you take that sweet tongue a little further south. You suck my cock just right, and I'll let you wear Bradshaw on your back as much as you want, Baby."

You were tight up against the wall, but you instantly dropped to your knees for him. It was really getting dark now, but you could still clearly see the dirt stains on his pants as you pulled them down a little further. You kissed along his thigh and licked at his coarse hairs peeking out from his jockstrap. He was sweaty. So sweaty. And he tasted delicious. He smelled even better. You moaned so loudly as your fingers wrapped around the elastic and pulled down until you could remove the athletic cup that was being held in place. 

He was already semi hard, and you looked up at him as the plastic cup clattered to the dugout floor next to you. "You're massive."

"You can handle it. I've been watching you handle bats all day. You know what you're doing." Bradley's voice was deep and dark, and you whimpered as you tugged his damp jockstrap further down his thighs. 

"I can handle it." Then you pressed your lips to his tip and coated them up with his sweat and precum. "God, you taste so good." You didn't even have to pretend. You felt slightly crazed as you kitten licked him before sucking on the tip. Salty and musky and sweet and sweaty. When you popped him out of your mouth, you wrapped your hands around his hips and pulled him closer. 

"Jesus," he groaned as you licked his balls clean of that salty taste you were craving now. You sucked on his balls and licked him everywhere. "Oh, you're something else."

"Bradley," you whined between licking long, steady stripes up to his bellybutton. "You taste amazing." Then you wrapped one hand around the base of his cock before you took his length deep, gagging as he hit the back of your throat.

"Holy hell!" he moaned, bucking gently and gripping the back of your neck with one hand. You could feel his hairs tickling your nose, and you inhaled as he withdrew. "Let me fuck your pretty face?"

You just nodded and moaned, and you tried to say yes as he filled you up with his cock over and over again. But tears started stinging your eyes, because you just wanted more. You licked him clean and sucked on him until he was cursing nonstop under his breath. With shallow thrusts, you felt him start pulsing against your tongue. When you gently squeezed his balls, you felt that he was tight and getting close. 

He jerked his hips back and you gasped, missing the heavy weight of his cock on your tongue. "Come here," he whispered, voice harsh as he hauled you to your feet and pressed you back against the wall. Then he devoured your mouth, his hands a little rough at the back of your neck and your waist as he started to yank down your leggings. "Let me cum in your pussy?"

"Yes," you gasped, and he spun you so you were facing the wall, bracing yourself with both hands. You could feel the cool, night air on your most intimate parts as he practically tore your leggings pulling them down. "Bradley!" you shrieked, your voice echoing in the covered dugout as he thrust into you with one hard stroke. 

"Well, would you look at that? Already wearing my name on your back, Baby."

"Bradley!"

He sucked on your neck and let his hand snake around to your clit as he fucked you. "You're just that good, huh? Wearing my name while I fuck you in the dugout. God damn it, Kitten."

You were a whining mess as he pinched and plucked your clit as his hips met your butt over and over again. And you knew he must be close, but you were so wet. He smelled and felt heavenly, and you could still taste him on your tongue as his breathing grew ragged. 

"Please," you begged, and he rubbed you until you felt yourself squeeze around his cock. He made a mess as he came, moaning your name into the cook of your neck as your orgasm left you shaking slightly. You could feel his cum dripping down your thighs as he withdrew. It felt good. And his fingers worked gently on your clit until you backed up against him.

Bradley just gently patted your pussy as he softly said, "The dugout, Baby? With a sexy bat girl? I'll never be the same, I swear it."

He helped you shimmy your leggings back into place, and when you turned to look at him, he was a disheveled mess in the semidarkness. His cock was hanging out from his jockstrap. His athletic cup was on the ground. His hat sat crooked on his head. And he still smelled amazing. "I don't think you're the only one with a baseball fantasy, Coach," you whispered, and he smirked.

"I'll indulge you whenever you want it. You know that. Now let's hit the showers at home and get you changed into your little cheerleader outfit."

"I thought you were tired!" you said as he tucked his length into his jockstrap and bent to retrieve the cup. 

"Not anymore," he rasped, wrapping his arm around your shoulders where you were proudly wearing his last name and yours. He tossed his bag of gear over his other shoulder, and you started heading for the parking lot. "Now give me all the details about your baseball fantasy."

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

Sweat and hot. Fuck. Send help. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

[dalimarisdaddy1967]

My Collection Is Finally Complete!

Did you guys know there are Mystery Case Files books? I did! There are 4 of them to be exact and after trying for forever to get them I have acquired all 4 and wanted to show them off! If any of you lovely people have read these, please don't spoil them. I haven't yet but I plan to soon.

Here are all 4 of the Mystery Case Files books. The series of books are called Blackpool Mysteries and they were written by Jordan Gray and distributed by a company called Harlequin Enterprises. The titles are Stolen, Vanished, Submerged & Unearthed. As I said, I haven't read them yet but I just love the thought of having them all finally! You guys know how obsessed with Mystery Case Files I am so this is definitely a dream come true for me! For anyone looking to get these, I got them for a decent price on Amazon. I got mine used, hence the creases and marks but I'm not complaining. I think they also had them available new but I was fine with used! I'm just happy to have them!

Here is a close up of the first book in the series which is titled Stolen. There is a pair of old shoes on the cover with the words 'Secrets are the heart of Blackpool...' next to them. This book was published in August of 2010. At first glance, this book looks like it'll be good but let's take a look at the back.

The description on the back of the book reads:'A cozy English seaside town built on secrets and smugglers, Blackpool is a haven for tourists and home to generations of locals who like their privacy. American Molly Graham and her British husband, Michael, are considered outsiders, but feel irresistibly drawn to this town... and its darker curiosities. Because Blackpool harbors dangerous mysteries. And murder is just the beginning. A shattering scream outside the old theater leads to the victim, a woman whose past in Blackpool is linked to a seventy-year-old train wreck, a lost child and a cache of valuable paintings smuggled out of London during World War II. After a number of frustrating missteps, can Molly and Michael discover the killer in their midst? In Blackpool they know secrets run deep. And some want them hidden forever-at any cost.'

Honestly this book sounds like it will be such a good read and I love the fact it is set in Blackpool.

Here we have the second book which is titled Vanished. It was released in November of 2010. There is an arm chair with the words 'A town built on secrets and danger' next to it. This sounds so good. Before I continue to showing the back I wanna make a point about something... this cover. The room on the cover. Am I crazy or does it kinda vaguely resemble the parlor of Ravenhearst Manor?

This is a picture of the parlor as seen in Ravenhearst. I can't be the only one who thinks the cover of Vanished vaguely resembles this room right? The style of the wall, the arm chair, the picture on the wall. I could be reaching or it could merely be just a slight nod to it but come on! I'm not imagining it right?! I swear if there isn't at least a nod to the Dalimars or at least Ravenhearst Manor in this series I will be a bit disappointed! I mean they're set in Blackpool! Anyway... onto the back of the book!

Excuse the fingers and the tape and tag. My copy was a copy that was removed from a library so it still had the inventory tag thing taped to it and I had to peel it back to read the description. Anyway the back of the book reads:'Locals in the English coastal town of Blackpool don't take kindly to strangers, but newcomers Michael and Molly Graham have managed to make a few good friends. Dylan Stewart has encouraged them to join him and go native during the town's annual Seafaring Days celebrations. The event makes for lively crowds, colorful costumes-and a perfect cover for murder. Troublemaker Willis Myners is found stabbed in his boat and the police's main suspect is Dylan himself. Michael and Molly can't help but be pulled into the mystery-and deeper into the dark history of Blackpool. Amid whispers of cursed sixteenth-century coins and gyspy gold, what they discover is something far more sinister than the revenge of a jealous husband. And much more dangerous.'

That description makes it sound like a nod to Phineas Crown maybe but being in Blackpool is a little weird for that to be the case. I'm still hoping for at least a nod to the Dalimars or Ravenhearst Manor especially with this cover.

Here is the third book which is titled Submerged. It was released in February of 2011. The cover has a submerged ship and next to it are the words 'A town built on secrets and danger.' Honestly these books look so incredibly good and even if there isn't a nod to the Dalimars, which it would be kinda weird and a missed opportunity if not, I think these books will be worth the read.

The back of this book reads:'The mysteries of the English seacoast town of Blackpool linger centuries after its powerful founder died with his secrets. Newcomers Molly and Michael Graham are intrigued by the sinister curiosities of their adopted home, for though the picturesque waterfront shops are a haven for tourists, the locals keep to themselves. And most have something to hide... A preservation grant brings a massive restoration project to the marina, throwing the town into political turmoil. As Molly wades into the fray, a young woman is kidnapped, a thug turns up dead and a shipwreck is discovered in the harbor! The Grahams are plunged into a legacy of smugglers, betrayal and murder... and even deeper into the heart of Blackpool's most shocking and long-buried truths.'

See now with these books being set in Blackpool and all the talk of murder and secrets and all that... there has to be at least a nod to the Dalimars. I know I keep saying that but it would be kinda silly if not. You guys know how I am about the Dalimars, especially one of them in particular.

Here is the fourth and final book which is titled Unearthed and it was released in May of 2011. The cover has a statue of an angel on it with the words 'A town built on secrets and danger' next to it. Honestly, this cover gives me Ravenhearst vibes. Okay... I'll stop... maybe... lol.

The back of this fourth and final book of the series reads:'Behind the colorful charm and vibrant history of the English seaside town of Blackpool is a legacy of secrets. Secrets people have killed to keep hidden. But for Michael and Molly Graham, finding the truth has become personal. Their friend clings to life in a hospital-shot to keep him quiet-and the couple is driven to uncover what he would risk his life for...and what someone would murder for. But the pieces of this puzzle are as disparate as any they've faced-a sunken pirate ship, a one-legged skeleton, vengeful curses and a grim family legacy. And if they put the pieces together, will they only be digging their own graves?'

Okay... come on! Grim family legacy! If that's not a Dalimar family reference I will cease to exist cuz... come on now! That's a dead giveaway!

Anyway! That's all! These look so good! Even if there are no Dalimar or Ravenhearst references I'm sure I'll still love them cuz... it's Mystery Case Files! As I stated previously, if you want them, Amazon has a decent price for them. Not sure if they have new cuz I got them used but that's where I got them. Happy hunting!

@detectiveruth @masterdetectivemcf @macatt4c @fallenidol-453 @redrum-eht @hakurakurohime @proustianlesbian @thebiggestpartypooper @rebellovesthings @artsydon @hiddenobject-fanblog @pookiethebloodsucker @apeirotilio @ink-and-pixels @arty-girl-asks @angelsmama1968

[luca-y0urs-tru1ly]

slut

*. * · "i would have died for your sins, instead i just died."

pairings; ghostface!ethan landry x fem!reader

warnings; knives, swearing, slight smut, death.

molly's fc; @rinaaaaaa_ya on insta... i think..

it was the scene in scream 6 in the theatre, right before ethan was revealed to be the killer.

molly's pov

my heart was beating so fast, it felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. this was it. i was finally gonna find out who has been harassing me and my friends.

...

sam and tara looked at me, putting their hands on my shoulder as i started to break down. my cheeks got hot, my eyes watering. "ethan.. how cou.." i couldn't even finish my sentence without breaking down into tears. my knees went weak and i sank down to the floor, holding my face in my hands.

"oh, shut the fuck up, molly. you really thought that was real? how could anyone love a slut like you." ethan walked closer to us, holding his knife out. "back the fuck up!" sam yelled. i looked up at ethan, and it felt like he had already stabbed me. with his words. with the evil piercing through his eyes.

"you did." i said to him. i stood up with black mascara watered down on my cheeks with tears. "you didn't forget, did you? how i was your first love? your first time? you couldn't keep your hands off of me."

flashback

molly was on the kitchen counter with ethan in between her legs, thrusting his finger in and out of her wet cunt. she moaned and leaned back on the table, watching his hand move around inside of her. he unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock, slowly slipping it inside of her. "oh, fuck.." she moaned.

"take it like the good girl you are." he whispered into her ear, which made her even more wet. he thrusted into her fast and hard. molly grabbed onto his dark brown curly hair. i'm pretty sure the neighbors could hear them. "i'm.. i'm trying.."

present

"you remember telling me to take it? that i'm being such a good girl?" "shut the fuck up." he yelled. "why? i know why. it's because you just crave attention, you crave attention from your father, so you decided to kill people in order to get that attention." i was now getting angry. i wanted him to pay. to pay for taking the life of people who did nothing wrong.

"i said shut the fuck up!" he pointed the knife closer to my face. sam and tara were standing right beside me, ready incase ethan tried anything. "you're an asshole, molly."

"says the fucking murderer." i took a step closer to him, trying to show him that im not scared of him. trying to prove he couldn't do anything to me.

"i'm warning you. if you say one more fucking thing, i will kill you."

"oh molly, be a good girl and take my giant cock like a good girl! ride my cock like a fucking cowgirl!" i mocked him. to be honest, it was pretty funn-

i heard sam and tara gasp and look down. i felt a sharp pain my stomach. i felt blood dripping onto my shoes. i looked down, and saw ethan holding a knife that was shoved into my gut.

[thequeenofmyownscreen]

Twenty-five things I noted about CR2E140 “Long May He Reign” :

oh buckle up kids it's going to be a long bumpy ride, but this episode deserves it

Marisha is wearing an ExU t-shirt and that makes me so happy

Yeah, ain't that the mood :

I love the transformation of Lucien the Neo-Somnovem abilities, instead of guilt, now Yasha is mind-transported into her worst nightmare : Zuala shouting "why did you leave me ??"

"Minus eyes" "Minus eyes", I love that it's becoming the phrase to shout.

CALEB IMAGINED THE GLAIVE THAT KILLED LUCIEN AND IT CAME TO LIFE. Ooooooh boy Liam is such a good player, he understood the possibility of what Matt was saying about the aether potential !

Veth screming with joy and lust when Fjord cast Marine Layer, what an episode, guys (he did warn her to "keep [her] clothes on")

Jester, using the power of imagination : "The giant pillar in front of [Lucien] turning into a giant dick covered in eggs, scrambled eggs. And I'm going to use it as a giant bludgeoning device to fall forward and smack him in the face !" Bonus Travis reaction : "That's my child's mother." Bonus Liam reaction : "I mean, in character to the end." Bonus Taliesin reaction : "This is how my parents said I'd die."

OOOOoooh interesting, the attacks on each of the eyes are useful to get rid of the eyes and : a) get rid of nasty effects (that 40+ points of necrotic damage every time Fastidan strikes is no joke !!) b) hurt Lucien in the process

you can also heal with the power of the mind !

Laura tried and tried, but alas, the dice gods were not with her. That's too bad, I would have wanted to see a Divine Intervention of the Traveler SO BAD

Travis utterly failing to sound persuasive towards Lucien with his story of the fruit basket in Zadash makes me laugh so much. Matt : "I'm on the cusp of giving you disadvantage for that one." Travis : "I'm on the cusp of agreeing !"

Ashley blowing her nose in the Socks Machina because she's crying after Jester got killed and she doesn't have any tissues around is the saddest thing I've seen on 3 campaigns of Critical Role (yet).

They were all so stressed !!! I'm appreciating Travis saying "Calm down, let's slow a few seconds" and prompting Sam to fill up the silence even more. CEO BRAIN !!

After Caduceus tried to Revivify Jester, but Matt left it in suspense, before revealing it worked... the instant relief and simultaneous freak-out of the cast, tag yourself, I'm Liam :

TWO NATURAL TWENTYS MARISHA RAY IS A GODDESS

"can we animate that ?" Travis got hit by the Appollo ball, and also no ! because he's got to know by now that everything the cast ever says will come true, right ?

Caleb got the same treatment Jester did by Lucien : unconscious, and then with one attack left he finished him on the spot.

Jester, basically : "I'm a cleric, but..." and she didn't wait for an answer before getting the HDYWTDT on Lucien !

You know it's a good D&D game when there's only silence, hysterics bouts of laughter, and then more silence, mouths open because everything that just happened was incredible.

my thoughts from this point on were... not very coherent : "Oh my god, they're doing it. They're trying to resurrect Molly (When I began this campaign, I knew that Taliesin's first character died and somehow… came back ?? The details were not was I was searching for, since I hate getting spoiled on a good story.) oH MY GOD A NATURAL ONE NOOOOOOOW ???? WHAT IS HAPPENING ? IS IT ALL A DREAM ?? ARE THEY ALL DEAD SINCE THE BEGINNING ??"

"It's just not fair" broke me

Beau : "We may be heroes that no one knows about. But we know."

the end... like, what the fuck. CADUCEUS ROLLED ANOTHER DIVINE INTERVENTION and THEY HAVE DONE IT THEY BROUGHT HIM BACK my heart was beating a hundred times a minute

"Someone call Burch, she's off the hook" I'M SCREAMING

And the Mighty were Nein

[fvckeduplilwhinybxtch]

DON'T LEAVE ME

FRED WEASLEY X IVY BLACK (MY OWN CHARACTER)

・╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡・

............

Enjoy!

This was war, chaotic, messy and death. It wasn't pleasant, not at all, all you could do was fight and hope you don't die or hope no one else dies. Ivy stood next to Fred, watching the school, Hogwarts, get locked down, her heart Wrenched and she gripped tighter on Fred's hand. Ivy grew up at Hogwarts, she didn't want it to be messed up, She wanted her and Fred's son, Finley Cayden(fighter)Weasley,He was 4, Ivy wished to not have him near her and Fred at this time, but her little boy was stood tall infront of her and Fred, she looked at Fred and tears struck her eyes "Fred..i need to take him somewhere safe.." Ivy said "I'll take him to my mum, she's in the wing, she's staying there and keeping a eye on 1st years" Fred said and picked Finley up, ivy kissed Fin's head and smiled at him "Bye mommy!" Finley said to her, as Ivy wiped some dirt from his face "Bye baby..i love you so much.." Ivy said and with that Fred was walking off with there son.

Eventually Fred was back, standing tall, tears striking his eyes as well as he watched the protection spell in the sky get damaged "Freddie..listen..we are gonna make it out of here together... Okay?" Ivy said "I love you" Fred said to Ivy and a big boom was heard threw Hogwarts and Hogsmead. "It's time!" Everyone heard Harry yell and everything started happening, spells being thrown at death eaters, instant deaths, Fred and Ivy ended up parting.

3 hours later... 3 hours ivy hasn't seen Fred, things were calmed down so she was going to see If Fred was in the wing seeing Finley, ivy walked to the wing, Her heart instantly shattered as she saw Her Husband, Fred, on the stretcher,he wasn't dead but he was hurt very badly.. Ivy ran to him and dropped to her knees holding her chest, it felt hard to breath, she wanted to scream, she felt a hand rub her hair and looked at Fred's weak eyes "Ivy..." Fred said letting out a whimper "Keep Finley safe okay?.. And for you..remember I'll always love you.." Fred said Weakly and shut his eyes, immediately going unconscious, he just died..but that's what she thought..Ivy screamed and hugged onto Fred "Fred!! No!!!" she yelled and everyone came and watched, Molly tried to hold Finley back but he ran to fast over to his parents "Mommy, why's daddy asleep?" Finley said, Ivy's heart broke at that, she felt like her heart was ripped out of her chest "Hunny, Daddy is just really tired.. O-okay?" Ivy said and saw as George and Ron were bawling, bill was holding back his sobbing and Molly was hugging onto Arthur "Daddy can't sleep right now silly, we need to beat that mean guy" Finley said, giggling softly. Ivy was hurt "We need to let him sleep Fin" Was all Ivy said before everything went black, she passed out.

A few hours later, Ivy woke up and looked over to see Fred moving "F-fred" Ivy said, breaking down at the sight of him moving "Fred I thought you died" Ivy added "I did, I came back" Fred said and gripped onto Ivy.

15years later, Finley got a Hogwarts acceptance Letter,

*Mr Finley Weasley

248 Coset Lane

Dear Mr. Weasley,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT & WIZARDRY*

Finley was set off to discover a new world, proudly Accepted by his Mum and Dad, Finley also has a 6 year old sister now, her name is Athena(Warrior) Harlow Weasley, she had bright red hair just like her brother and dad.

[lcngstcryshcrt]

inspired  by  : kim possible

Added inspo! Katara (Avatar: The Last Airbender) Enola Holmes, Asuna (Sword Art Online)  Anthony Lockwood (Lockwood & Co.) more coming soon… 

Kimberly Ann Possible (Abigail Cowen)

5/4/2002. Taurus. 

She/Her

Bisexual 

Lawful good 

Gryffindor 

past !!

Kimberly Ann Possible never thought a summer gig babysitting would lead her into the world of moonlight crime fighting. 

At first, she thought it was a joke. The emails labeled "Help Wanted" asking for assistance with all sorts of thefts and major crimes. 

And so it began. Cheerleader and student by day, superhero by night.

These supervillians were wacky, always stealing the strangest things and going by goofy nicknames. 

The Big Case, as it would become known to Kim and Ron, was a tricky one. Connecting the dots on a series of faulty projects lead them to the desk of one Dr. Drew Drakken. 

They foiled his plans, sending him off to jail in handcuffs, but the screams of rage haunted Kim for years. 

"I'll be back Kim Possible! You'll be sorry when I get my hands on you!" 

Needless to say, KP spent the rest of high school looking over her shoulder for any glimpse of Drakken or his associates. 

Graduation was not a happy affair for her, because with it, came the release date of Dr. Drakken. 

Enrolling in college, Kim realized that she needed to seriously decide what she was doing with her future. 

You can't put moonlighting vigilante on your tax return! 

So that's where college came in, and everything was going smooth until the morning she woke up in Evermore. 

Waking up in Evermore was a shake-up that Kim never expected.

While she misses her family, it feels good to be independent for the first time in her life. No more Kimmie cub, no more Cheer Captain, just Ms. Kim Possible, Detective. 

So here she is, investigating the hits on her new website, making new friends, and keeping her eyes peeled for Dr. Drakken. 

present !!

Settling into Evermore so far has looked like opening up Boo-Yah Investigations (homage to one Ron Stoppable), fostering a friendship with Molly Davis (who knew having a girl bestie would be so great?!) and getting some kissing practice with Swizz Melarkey (from the dunk tank, to scaredy cat, to misletoe kisses and beyond).

The missing persons incident fanned the flames smoldering in Kim's heart of investigation and mystery and have jolted her back into action trying to unravel the secrets of Evermore.

future !!

to be updated...

[eviesessays]

27. What inventions have had the biggest impact on your day-to-day life?

Thinking about inventions that have impacted my life brought home the reality that I have been around for a very long time and through many changes.  

In my earliest memories of cars They were cranked to get started.  By the time I was learning to drive, clutches were optional and continue so to this day.  Cars came in two colors, black or dark blue.  This changed rapidly and today cars come in every color imaginable.  

One household change that I most appreciate was the change in getting the laundry done.  My mother had a clothes washer that agitated clothes in soapy water then each piece of clothing was put through a wringer and dropped into a tub of clear rinse water.  Each item of clothing was then swished about in the rinse water and again put through the wringer and dropped into the laundry basket ready to be carried upstairs to be hung outdoors on the clothes line.  Little wonder my mother was always in a very sour mood on laundry day.  

Often clothes were ironed right after coming off the clothesline, an unthinkable choice these days.  Fabrics have improved to eliminate a need to iron.  Irons, although much less necessary have also improved.  My first memory was of heavy iron blocks that sat on the stove to be heated.  The handle then clamped on and the heated block was used to iron until it cooled.  It  was then exchanged for one that was heating.  This ritual went on in all seasons.  The electric iron was a welcome gift to housekeeping.

In 1953 I was seventeen years old and leaving Sioux Lookout to go to Nursing school.  One thing I was eager to experience was the new invention, television.  We had faithfully followed the radio show, “Fibber McGee and Molly,” who lived on Wistful Vista.  Well, my excitement was very short lived as Port Arthur was a long way from anywhere that might emit a signal.  I could recognize all the voices but the screen was just a mass of undecipherable dots.  I thought it the most overrated invention of all time.  It wasn’t until two years later when I was in London, ON doing my psychiatric nursing training that I experienced TV as it was meant to be.  

Another invention I could not have imagined was the ATM.  Banks were open from 9am to 4pm on weekdays and one was expected to plan accordingly.  The ATM available at any time of day or night and on any day of the week is a luxury we now take for granted.  

Another incredible thing that has become apart of nearly everyone’s life is the cell phone.  This, I consider the most valuable asset.  Once in Washington. I was trying to get home in a snowstorm.  I knew the children were home long before I would get there as I inched my way along the Suitland Parkway and Branch Avenue.  I considered stopping at a store to call them but knew I would be even more delayed trying to get back in line.  My children were all crying when I got home.  It broke my heart and in their distress they had not thought to call our good neighbors for at least some reassurance.  It is one of my saddest memories which could have been alleviated with a phone call.

One invention that came into common use during my lifetime I consider a mixed blessing.  The computer is an incredible asset to most people.  I have no good reason for my resistance but it is the bane of my existence.  My doctor sends results of labs to my computer.  Sometimes I can access the information and sometimes I cannot.  Most of the problem likely lies in the fact that I am old and my memory is fading.   Yes, I am old and my memory is fading so why am I confined to this elusive, mysterious and miserable communication.  I’m old enough to remember a time when people spoke to each other and could even call their doctor.  I want to scream that I feel like some kind of automaton, that I have a heart and soul but this dang computer does not care a fig about that.  

However, my lifestyle in my younger years would not be recognizable and moreover, undesirable to young people today and that is a very good thing.

[dressedtokillhertime]

"I'm supposed to be on my honeymoon right now." Freddie said as she stood in the doorway to Mollie's house. Both Knox and Mollie turned around to look at her, but Freddie couldn't look at either of them. The reception had been fun (more fun than it had any right to be, really), but now everything was over and she was left alone with just herself. Just herself when the day was supposed to be a celebration of her and Thom's love for each other. But that didn't happen. Because Thom cheated on her. He cheated on her on their wedding day. And now it was just her.

She felt her throat get tight, felt her eyes stinging, and she was vaguely aware that this was going to be bad. A sob fell from her lips and she brought a hand up to her mouth to cover it, but it didn't work as well as she wanted it to. She squatted in the doorway, her legs seemingly done holding her up. She felt arms wrap around her and she knew they were Mollie's, could hear her saying words of encouragement, felt her help her into a standing position and away from the door, hearing the click. All of this was going on in the background of the sobs that were wracking her body. She was sobbing so hard she was practically screaming, her body shaking with the force of it. She was crying like someone had ripped her heart out. And yeah. Wasn't that what had happened? How could she go on without her heart? More importantly, why did Thom take it when he clearly didn't want or need it?"

"Fred.... Freds.... Freddie. You gotta calm down, sweetheart. I know it hurts, I know. But I need you to calm down and breathe, okay?" Mollie said, rubbing her back. She said something else to Knox, but Freddie didn't care to hear it.

The next thing she knew (and it truly could've been seconds or minutes after Mollie told her she needed to calm down. She didn't know), she was sitting on the couch with tea in front of her that was supposed to be calming. She appreciated what her brother and sister were trying to do, but she was clocked out. Still, she took a drink of the tea.

Suddenly, she was in the bath tub. She had no idea how she'd gotten there, except the possibility that maybe Mollie had guided her and helped her get undressed. The water was hot against her skin, nearly scalding. Just the way she liked it. She couldn't get the image of Thom fucking that woman out of her head. Her eyes stung again and she let out a sob. She heard the door open and saw Mollie come in.

Flash. She was out of the shower and in her favorite pajamas (something she thought Mollie did again). Her makeup had carefully been taken off, her hair washed and brushed. She could taste the minty flavor of toothpaste, but she didn't remember brushing her teeth. Everything was coming to her in snapshots. She was in Mollie's room, on Mollie's bed, squished between Knox and Mollie. She felt so.... young. She hated it. She turned her face into the pillow, her tears starting up again. A hand rubbed her back while another stroked her hair. She wasn't sure who was who. They said their words of encouragement, but she didn't really hear them. She just cried. Knox and Mollie let her, comforting her and not rushing her to feel better. The only time they said anything was when it got intense, like that first time.

Eventually, everything went quiet as pure, sheer exhaustion overtook her. It was the most peace she'd gotten in a long time.

[reveluving]

telling a stupid joke and hearing your crush laugh

This with Ed?

late night heart attacks ; ed baldwin x reader

warnings: humour & fluff (+ strong language)

a/n: not so much a stupid joke but TONS of laughs! PLEASE WATCH THIS VID (skip to 1:26 - 2:15) 'CUZ THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO READ~ thank you & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» j.k. m.list , or check out my full m.list!

'His was hearty while yours was more giggly but one thing was certain; they were both equally contagious.' ;

When Ed had to stay late at the office, he wasn't expecting a surprise, let alone a heart attack. 

Not literally, of course, but damn, his heart was racing faster than a Formula 1 car. 

But his surprised scream didn't compare to yours, overshadowing his and echoing across the hallway when you opened his door, where he stood at the other side at the exact same time. 

Boy, he was pretty sure your scream was the one that scared him, not your sudden presence. You couldn't say the same about yourself though; you just thought he was sitting at his desk. So, to be greeted by him towering over you as soon as you swung the door open at this hour? 

Of course you jumped out of your skin. 

All of a sudden, both of you laughed. You broke first, right after the scare. One hand over your mouth to unsuccessfully stifle yours while the other gripped the files and bag you were planning to turn in. 

Ed's came in just moments; he tried to keep in at first, but just remembering how terrified you looked, with over 500 emotions in half a second, he practically bursted out laughing. 

His was hearty while yours was more giggly but one thing was certain; they were both equally contagious. 

None of you cared how loud and childish you were being, considering that you both knew there was no one else left for the night. 

It went on for a couple more seconds before it was put to a halt when you coughed a little, followed by Ed's choking on his own saliva. As disrespectful as it sounded, you just had to get that last bit of laughter out at his karma before patting him on the back. 

"Jesus, I thought you were Molly!" He placed his hand over his chest, clearing his throat with a pained smile. The pace of his heart had slowed to a normal rate by now but he was pretty sure he had enough for one day. 

"Well, I didn't think you'd be behind the door!" You argued back, sniffling before wiping your tears with your free hand, "Fuck, you could’ve said ‘hello, I’m going out now!’”

You were being (slightly) serious, which was the reason why he snorted. Your stomach was aching, as was his, as if you did hundreds of sit-ups and yet, his amusement transmitted to you once again. He invited you in, closing the door behind you before walking back to the middle of the room in sheer amusement.  

"Give a girl a warning next time," You placed the folders down neatly before turning around to lean against his table. Just as he approached you with the mischievous glint, you subconsciously crossed your arms out of nervousness.

"Sorry, sorry," As if he wasn't screaming with you a while ago. He placed both arms on either side of the table, flexing his arms under that too-tight dress shirt of his, "But c’mon, I thought you always said you liked it when I tower over you." 

"Not when you've nearly scared the soul out of me." You muttered, prompting him to tut-tut at your pout. He tried to compensate by kissing you on the cheek. 

"Might have to make it up to you, then," He moved off to grab his jacket and briefcase before you could even turn your head forward for a proper kiss, "Shall we get going?" 

You continued to narrow your eyes at him, cheeks puffed up but clearly pleased by the kiss before nodding curtly. He snorted, patting you on the butt twice to move as he locked his door before walking with you with his arm wrapped around you protectively.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

[newtonsheffield]

Goodness Molly I loved the first chapter of Strife I haven't realized how much I missed the GG universe until I read that❤❤. Since it's Spicy Sunday we really need to see Anthony trying to make that baby like it's his job����🌶. Probably like an overexcited, horny viking puppy

Ahhh I've missed how absolutely filthy GG Kate and Anthony were. Let's see if they've still got it

Anthony had really, a very serious problem. He knew this. He knew it was a problem before but fucking now.

He'd always been far too attracted to Kate. From the time he'd been a teenager, and he'd seen her in that hockey skirt and that night he'd taken himself in hand for the very first time and fallen apart with Kate's name on his lips, and he'd never really stopped. He'd spent weekends holed up in his room remembering how she'd laughed, or smiled, or staring at a picture on her instagram feed until he'd passed out, absolutely spent. And then of course she'd wanted him as well and from the very first second their lips touched he'd known he'd never want anyone else ever again.

She had consumed him so completely, and he had, a little foolishly thought that eventually the wanting he felt deep in his bones, the way his dick twitched interestedly whenever she walked by, or he heard her laugh, or he caught the scent of lilies that fucking lived in her pores would fade. But it didn't. In fact, if anything, the hot streak of possession he felt when she caught sight of the wedding rings on her hand, or she introduced him as My Husband, Anthony or called him fucking honey. Made him desperate to fall to his knees in front of her, nose under her skirt, and tear the lace from her body with his fucking teeth until she screamed his name. And then she told him she wanted a baby.

With tears in her eyes, and her hands fisted in his shirt, Kate begged him for a baby. As if she'd ever have to. As if he didn't desperately want the same. And he'd decided a very long time ago, even without the ache in his chest, that whatever Kate Sharma wanted from him, she was going to get. So if that was a baby, she was having his baby, if it was the very last thing he did.

The ache had settled in his chest, heat flashing through him whenever he saw her these days. Throwing out her little ovulation strips with a laugh, her body shuddering against him as he pinned her to the mattress, straddling her with a filthy thrust, his voice a growl when he said Nothing's going to tell me when to fuck my wife, thanks.

He wanted her all the time, something primal and animalistic had taken root in him and he couldn't help it. He went to bed grinding against her and woke up with his hands already on her waist, ready to settle her on his hips until she finished with a shout.

But this morning, allegedly, there was No Time, Anthony. And well, he'd see about that.

Anthony had let her slip out of bed, while his hands traced her curves, and her voice laughed back at him

"Honey, if you wanna get off, you're going to have to get reacquainted with your right hand. Because I have a meeting and I need to shower you off me."

Something had twitched inside him when he drew back the covers dramatically, a smug smile on his face when her eyes fell on his nakedness, swallowing convulsively when he said, "Well, I suppose you'll just have to watch from the bathroom then."

Kate raised her eyebrow in a challenge slipping into their ensuite the shower turning on, humming to herself as she slipped inside, and Anthony's didn't wait.

He slid from the bed, padding through the room, the steam already filling the bathroom, his heart already pounding when he took in his wife, sighing to herself under the hot water, kissing his chin as he stepped inside behind her, the water soothing in his scalp.

Kate groaned, letting herself be tugged back against him, letting herself feel him for a moment, her head falling back against his shoulder as his lips moved to her neck.

"Anthony."

Her voice was a feeble warning at best as he walked her forward, until his hand hit the cold tile of the shower, stopping her just short of being pressed against it while his hand slipped between her legs, falling open for her.

"If you don't want it, close your legs." Kate whined, tugging him closer. "Tell me to stop and I will Kate."

her hand covered his, one on the wall, one between her thighs as she groaned against him, a sharp gasp as he slid inside.

"You want a baby, Katie. Let me give you one."

Her breathing was coming in sharp gasps, as she rose quickly Anthony's own chest tight as her fingers tightened on his, on his wrist. Something burning in his chest, in his stomach, in every inch of himself pressed against her.

"Is that what you want Kate? You want me to give you a baby?"

She nodded desperately, her lower lip blanching between her teeth, her entire bodying tightening, so fucking close he knew it as his teeth nipped at her neck, the taste of her intoxicating.

"Fucking say it Kate. Out loud. Tell me again how you want my baby."

Kate fell apart with a desperate keen, her hips arching back against him, her voice desperate, "Yes Anthony. Please. I want a baby. Your baby."

A growl ripped free from his chest, spinning her until they were chest to chest, letting the length of her press against him as his hands settled on her legs, drawing them up around himself spreading them wide against the tile, his lips claiming hers, tongues tangling filthily together while the hot water beat against them, steam thickening the air along with the tension.

Oh Fuck Anthony She let out a startled gasp when his hips snapped against hers for the first time, her fingernails digging into his shoulders so tightly he could fee them cutting into his skin as he set a punishing pace. His entire body was tense, lost to the warm heat, of the water, of the air, of her. He would never get enough of her.

Not of the way her breath caught and then released in a desperate whine, not of the way her hands threaded in his hair tilted his head just right to lock their lips together, while her tongue flicked into his mouth, consuming him, tearing him apart.

But her voice always brought him back together. The gentle roughness of it, the desperation, the feeling that if he'd never be worthy of anything, at least somehow he got this. Kate, beautiful and wonderful and perfect, loving him. wanting him. Gasping and moaning as he fucked desperately into her, her voice cracking in her chest.

That's it Anthony, so good honey. harder honey, deeper, oh! Oh Fuck Anthony! Fuck! Fuck!

He could feel her tightening, feel her entire body starting to shake and he ripped forward, snapping against her eratically, clinging to the little presence of mind he had remaining, so close, so fucking close to the edge his vision was turning white, blurring at the edges and

Fuck! Anthony!

Kate fells over the edge with a sharp shout, her nails leaving long scratched down his back, marking him with her teeth in his shoulder and he hoped they;d fucking stay there forever as he snapped his hips once more, and fell as well, shuddering until he couldn't breathe, and everything went black.

When he opened his eyes again, Kate's fingers were gently smoothing his hair, the water still piping hot telling him almost no time had passed, a groan in his chest as he forced his head from her chest, his lips claimed hers again, softly, his eyes searching hers.

"That was intense, you okay?"

Kate nodded, chuckling against him, her nose rubbing with his. "You're like... really into this aren't you?"

"If you want something I'm gonna get it for you. You know that. No matter what it takes."Anthony hummed against her as Kate sighed.

"My Hero." Her lips found his again, for a long moment before she pulled back. "Now, what your wife wants, is for you to make breakfast, because you just got her hair wet and now she has to dry it."

Anthony gave her a mock salute, swiping his tongue over hers once more. "I love you."

"You too!"

Anthony had thought it was impossible to be more in love with his wife than he was in this moment, their family trying to grow between them, with them. But in nine months time, when the doctor handed him his son for the very first time, He knew he'd been a fucking idiot to ever think he was done falling in love with Kate Sharma.

[midnight-dreamerness]

It’s Always Been You

(This is NOT my gif. Credit to the creator <3)

summary: Jay stopped speaking to you unexpectedly and then you see each other at Molly’s.

pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

warning: Curse Words??

word count: 2.4k

A/N: theres a slight mention of the reader being plus size…

You never thought you’d be replaced. But in came Erin Lindsay and suddenly she was all he talked about. And eventually he didn’t call anymore. He didn’t pull up in your driveway with pizza and a pack of beer out of the blue anymore. There were no Saturday movie nights or Monday monopoly despite you both knowing he always won.

You were lonely. After meeting Jay in high school, it was the two of you against the world. And when he left for the rangers, you were lost. But he came back to you. And you were the happiest you’ve ever been. But this time was different. You were losing him, falling right between your fingers right In front of your eyes and there was nothing you could do was watch from afar as he loved someone else and ached to be that someone.

Erin was a good person with a good heart. She was good for him. But you couldn’t help but hate that you couldn’t give him everything she could. Whatever that was you didn’t know. Maybe it was because you were bigger. Maybe it was because you were different. Whatever it was, you didn’t want to know. It would only break you in the end.

You tried to go out but it seemed the ghost of him followed you wherever you went.

You glanced at him for a moment, noting the stubble covering his jaw and remember how much you ran your hands over it giggling when he spun you around in the middle of his apartment.

You both were closer than normal best friends. You slept in the same bed and cuddled countless times. But every time you woke you he was gone.

Your friend snapped her fingers in front of your face with a laugh.

“You’re staring,” she commented, sniggering. You grimaced, biting at your lip and removing your intense gaze from the man across the room.

He was with a group of people but his arms were laying across the chair of the girl you wanted to hate but couldn’t.

“I hate nice people,” you grumbled, only making your friend laugh more. You ended up grinning, her laugh being contagious.

“Hello, ladies.” You now noticed the blonde who had walked up to your table, recognizing him from Jay's group from across the room.

“Hello, handsome,” you flirted, resting your chin on the palm of your hand, fluttering your eyes at him. He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m Adam. I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room. Can I buy you a drink, both of you?”

“You can buy her a drink. I’m going to talk to the guy who's been eyeing me since I walked in. Good luck!” Your friend exclaimed and started to walk away but turned around and added, “Oh! She likes the fruity stuff. Berry Lemonade Margarita is her favorite. Thank me later.” She gave the blonde, Adam, a wink before finally walking away. You place your hands in your hands, a blush settling over you cheeks.

“Berry Lemonade Margarita it is.” Adam said walking to the bar. You sat there and chuckled, shaking your head. You could feel eyes on you, so you looked up and met his eyes. His hand had fallen from behind Erins chair, a sad smile on his face. You looked away letting out a sigh. Adam was back in a matter of minutes, sliding your drink in front of you and settling in the seat in front of you, a glass of what looks like Whiskey in his hands.

“Thank you,” you muttered, giving him a small shy smile.

“You don’t talk much do you?”

“When I open my mouth I usually embarrass myself.” He only laughs, shaking his head.

You ended up talking for a good twenty minutes about anything and everything. He was easy to talk to but you couldn’t help but ache for another man who would glance at the two of you from across the room ever so often. He hated it. He hated watching Adam making you laugh. It was really his own fault. He has no right to be angry or jealous. But he was. All he wanted to do was march right over there and rip him from that seat. Instead, though, he watched from afar, detaching himself from the conversation his friends were having. You brightened up the room as soon as you entered, his eyes on you as soon as you stepped foot into Molly’s.

“You know Jay?” Adam asked, leaning back against the booth. You nodded, swirling the straw in your half empty drink.

“We were best friends. Things happen, though. People change.”

“Well you're glancing at him every couple of minutes so apparently something happened there.”

“Oh fuck, Adam. I’m sorry,” your shoulder slump as you feel the guilt build inside you. He simply laughs and shakes his head.

“No need to apologize. Does he know?”

You wanted to ask him what he meant but you knew. So you shook your head, “No.”

He purses his lip. “Have you thought about telling him?”

“Only a thousand times. Erin is good for him, though.”

“If Jay wanted to be with Erin he would’ve made it official. So clearly something is holding him back.”

You hated how your chest filled with hope that maybe he held back because of you. But he left you. Stopped calling. Stopped texting. Stopped everything.

“C’mon,” Adam said standing up, glass in one hand and the other held out for you to take. You gave him a curious look but took his hand anyway and grabbed your drink before he could pull you away. When you noticed the direction you both we’re headed you tried to stop but it was no use. The two of you had gained the attention of the entire group.

“Hey, this is my girl, (Y/N). This is Kevin, Kim, Erin, and Jay.” Adam said, pointing them all out with their name. You gave them all a shy smile and a wave. Anxiety filled you and you suddenly felt sick to your stomach.

“Oh no, has he talked your ear off yet?” Asked Kevin who only made the rest of them laugh, aside from Jay, who only glaring at him. He hated the way the words “his girl” fell from Adam's lips.

Your shoulders dropped as the anxiety left and you let out a small laugh.

“He’s getting there.”

You didn’t even have it in you to look into his eyes. You tightened your grip on Adam's hand, who simply nudged you towards the empty spot next to an African American man, who you now know as Kevin. Adam sat next to you, sending you a wink before throwing his arm over your chair.

“Truthfully. She loves me,” Adam says shrugging. You take a sip of your drink, eyes widen, a laugh nearly falling from your lips.

“I’m just waiting on my chance to run,” you suddenly spoke. There was a slight pause before laughs were heard around the table and a whine came from Adam.

“Babe, that is so mean,” Adam moaned, holding his hand over his heart as if you broke it.

You simply giggled and slapped his chest lightly.

A conversation started and you added in a couple of times but mainly you were putting your focus on avoiding his gaze or trying not to cry at the sight of his hand resting on Erins shoulder.

As a certain song came on, you were suddenly pulled into memories of only a couple months ago.

It was the night he made you dance with him. You remember giggling and letting him spin you until you were dizzy and ready to pass out. You remember how his hands fell on your hips to try and steady you before you fell. He was laughing the entire time until his face came close to yours. And he almost kissed you. He was so close and you prayed that he would. But he didn’t.

The memory only causes your heart to ache and knowing that the man you loved was sitting right in front of you with another girl on his arm made it ten times worse.

You wanted to scream and to cry but you trapped it inside, bottling it up until you could let it out once you got home.

The sound of your slurping pulled you from your thoughts. You were out of adult juice. With no intention of going home, you were going to need another drink to get you through the night.

“I'm going to get a drink. I’ll be back,” you told Adam before hopping out of your seat. He gave you a nod.

“Yeah, me too. Anyone want anything?”

You pushed through the groups of people trying to get away but there was no use, Jay caught your arm and pulled you away before anyone at the table noticed. You were in a hallway suddenly and before you could say anything Jay was in front of you.

“Adam? Really?”

“What? What’s wrong with Adam? And why do you care?” You are getting upset now. Jay had no right to question you on who you were seeing. Not anymore.

“He’s not really your type.” You snorted at his reply. What were you supposed to say to that? You didn’t understand why he cared when he had left you and all of a sudden he wants to look out for you.

“Jay, you have no idea what my type is anymore. People change. Maybe I like blondes now.”

“Yeah well I remember only a couple months ago you much preferred brown haired, blue eyed men.”

“What are you implying?” You asked, stepping closer to him, your eyes set in a glare. He folded his arms over his chest, his muscles catching your eyes for a split second. Your thighs clenched before you copied his stance, your nails digging into your arms.

“You know exactly what I’m implying, princess.”

The nickname made you weak at the knees and so did that fucking smirk on his face. But you stood your ground, slipping your hair over your shoulder and attempting to walk around him. He caught your wrist, pulling you into his chest. You took in a breath at how close you both were. It had been so long since you touched him and every part of you wanted to melt into his arms.

“You left me, remember. Replaced me. No calls, no text, no goodbye. And no excuse. You have no right to try and tell me who I can or cannot be with.” As you spoke you snatched your wrist from his grip and pulled away, walking right out the side doors. You walked up to Adam, the excuse falling from your lips easily.

“I’m not feeling too well, I’m gonna head home, Call me. It was nice meeting you guys.”

And you were out the door before they could say anything. Your phone was blowing up as soon as you sped off down the road but you didn’t once pick it up knowing who it was.

It was your turn to ignore him now. You blocked his number later that night and cried yourself to sleep, trying your hardest to let go of that stupid schoolgirl crush you had for him and grow the hell up. You only wished it was as easy as saying it. But your mind betrayed you and you thought about him for the next two days. And then he showed up.

When you heard the knock you assumed it was the package you had been waiting on for three days now but when you took a peek through the peephole, you closed your eyes and sat your back against the door.

“Please open the door,” he begged, resting his head against the door. You let out a sigh and pushed yourself from the door, turning and swinging it open. He stood there with a pizza box in his hand and a pack of beer resting on top. You couldn’t help but smile as you noticed the flowers hiding behind his back. He pulled them out, a grin overtaking the sadness on his face. The look of excitement cured the nervousness that had settled in his stomach.

“Can I take the pizza, beer, and flowers and leave you on the doorstep?” You joked about taking a hold of the flowers, bringing them to your nose to smell them. You closed your eyes as your favorite flower's scent invaded your nose.

Jay let out a laugh. “No, princess. It’s a package deal.”

You let out a chuckle and opened the door wider for him. Jay walked inside, instantly making his way to the living room where he sat the pizza and beer on the table. Instead of following him you entered the kitchen and placed the flowers in a vase and filled it halfway with water. You placed them on the counter, cocking your head to the side as you arranged them perfectly in the vase. Jay watched from the entrance, leaning against the frame with a smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry. And I know it isn’t much, but I hope this is a good start to getting you back.”

His voice causes shivers to roll over your spine. You purses your lips, taking in a breath.

“I don’t want to play anymore, Jay. I want a relationship and if you can’t give me that then please just say so.”

He walked forwards, cupping your face in his hands.

“I didn’t know what I wanted back. But I do know now. And it’s you. It's always been you.”

With a sigh of relief you captured his lips, your hand running up his chest before clasping around his waist. You wished you had done it before, that you both hadn’t played around the thought of a relationship and just did it. But you had him now and that’s all that mattered.

His kiss made you fuzzy and you Found yourself leaning against him for support. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip and you parted your lips eagerly. You moaned at the taste of him and moved your hands to then settle on his chest. You have never been kissed like this before. And you loved every part of it.

You pulled back, taking in a much needed breath as he leaned his forehead against yours attempting to catch his own breath.

“So, you want me to beat your ass in monopoly or what?”

[angeli-marco-writes]

Sherlock Holmes - Kiss Me, Mr Detective

A/N - Season 1!Sherlock, the cutie. And friends to lovers. Two of my favourite things. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, the character, the universe, the adaptations or anything: this is a work of fiction set on the BBC adaptation of Sherlock. Did I still write 8.2k words (exactly) for it? Yes. I also don’t own the song or the lyrics used within, and if you fancy it, listen to ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran while reading.

Warnings - Bad language. Mentions of murder and drug usage. Mild angst. Smut, loss of virginity, masturbation, oral m receiving, penetration, unprotected sex, so 18+.

Summary - After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night...

TO SHERLOCK, it’s just another normal day, whereas to John? He’d rather not admit how regularly these awful days roll around. Sure, the case didn’t go as well as it could’ve, and Sherlock admittedly could’ve made much more of an effort to comfort John after the apparent ‘heartbreak’ he endured. He just could not understand it. Why the hell was John so emotionally responsive to a case they’d been on for less than twenty four hours which turned out to be a bust anyway? 

“You are absolutely unbelievable!” 

“People die every day, John. You’ve killed people, as have I. It isn’t that great a surprise.” Sherlock deadpans, picking up his teacup, raising it to his lips, drawing a long sip from the warm liquid. 

“Oh, yeah, of course. The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.” John mocks. “Do you not even care that people are still dead despite the fact you solved the case?”

“They’d be dead either way,” he reiterates, “at least we got to them before they completely decomposed. Will me caring about them stop them from being dead? No, Dr Watson, it will not.”

“Sherlock!”

“John!” He mimics. 

John slams his hands down on the desk, shaking the wood and everything resting on it, surely sending the vibrations through the floor and notifying Mrs Hudson of their ‘domestic’ as she so likes to call them. The buffalo even begins to swing. John’s tea is long forgotten, but Sherlock’s is keeping him grounded, calm, as John waggles his fist in Sherlock’s passive, blank face. 

“You-” he pauses, gulping down breath. “You are a fucking machine, I can’t even deal with you right now. How dare you be so cold hearted and untroubled by this. You’re a disgrace.”

As if he hasn’t heard that one before, Sherlock scoffs. 

Placing his teacup back down with a clink, he stands, the darkness of the night, of the room, closing in on them both. Nights like these really are danger nights, any night John leaves him. That’s what's coming next, but there isn’t a thing he knows to say or do to prevent the inevitable. He’ll simply just text Her instead, she’ll keep him grounded. 

“Why? Emotional context? Emotion, whether of ridicule, anger, or sorrow, whether raised at a puppet show, a funeral, or a battle, is your grandest of levellers. The man who would be always superior should be always apathetic.” 

With a huff like a bull, John viciously turns on his heel, blaspheming under his breath, cursing Sherlock out. He reaches for his coat and snatches it off the stand, slamming the door open. 

“MACHINE.” John screams before pulling the door shut with a great slam, seething, the coat stand still rocking in his wake. 

John’s footsteps thunder down the stairs, but before he’s even gone, Sherlock’s phone is withdrawn, and he’s tapping out a message.

Can you come over? Please? SH

It wouldn’t usually bother him as much. The case didn’t phase him, at all, but John’s opinion did. It always does. But today was a particularly long day of being brutish and rude, cold and distant, his usual and true self, but John’s more and more impatient with him now. 

Being called a ‘machine’ is, again, nothing unusual, but this time it stings a little more than usual, especially after his recent arrest, and a fallout with Molly. He only has one person left, right now, who doesn’t hate him. His longest friend, the one he keeps away from it all so as to not tarnish her life with his misdeeds; Y/N, the one he can always rely on.

He knows she’s arrived by the sound of his window crashing open. Crawling up the bricks, skimming the drainpipe, latching onto the ivy; it’s her usual manner of entry. She never uses the door. 

Putting his cups and saucers into the sink, he makes his way through the house, opening his bedroom door to find her already sitting there on the bed, her coat hung up on the hook, her work clothes clinging to her body. 

“Hey there Mr Detective, you okay?” she asks as jovially as she can muster.

The way he ambles across the room, his dressing gown floating behind him, and slumps down onto the bed, instantly tells her he’s not okay at all. She can’t help but to look upon him sympathetically, edging a smidge closer to him, until he’s prompted enough to wrap his arms around her torso, finding his rightful place tangled around her. She knows him well enough - his past, and his current life - to realise she’s the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do this with, and that brings her a certain swelling pride in her bosom, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock as he feels her skin heat up against his cheek. 

It doesn’t take long, either, for his head to follow suit, burying into her chest. He’s always, always had a thing for her boobs, ever since they were in uni together. 

That’s something so special about the two of them, he doesn’t have to say anything for her to know he’s not okay the way he does with everyone else. And naturally, he can read everything about her in a split second.

“I’m here, bud.”

Above all else, he just needs to know someone is there for him in moments like these. The world is cruel to him, and Y/N wishes more than anything that it wasn’t. Upon instinct, her hands stray, one to his back, pressing against the silk of his dressing gown, the other cradling his long neck, fingers knotting in the dark curls there. 

She isn’t sure how long she stays there, simply holding him, feeling every twitch of his muscles, every breath of his against her skin, but she likes it. Of course she does, every time she likes it. Sherlock brings her an inordinate amount of comfort at the best of times, today is no exception, especially with what the day has held. Even when she’s the one comforting him, he doesn’t realise how much he helps her too. 

His flat is so familiar, his bed as comfortable as her own. She knows his sock index, she’s studied his periodic table over his shoulder more times than she’d care to admit, and she even has her own toothbrush in the bathroom in case she has to pop over for an emergency freshen up. Sherlock has, and always will be, her first port of call, and that she remembers as she shifts further onto the quilted bedspread, her phone on his oak bedside locker. 

His head begins to stir against her chest, his curls tickling her collarbones, small hums escaping his lips as he pushes himself up, his elegant yet trembling hands still splayed on her waist.

“I could feel your heart beating weirdly, what’s wrong?” he asks, quirking his eyebrows. 

“Just the usual.” she vaguely replies.

Sherlock isn’t having it, though, and scans her a little more. “You’re still in your work clothes.”

“Great deduction. I was hoping you’d go a little deeper, though.”

“You hate wearing work clothes longer than necessary, which means you had plans straight after work, considering you finished… five hours ago? That’s your usual time for today. Counting overtime, forty five minutes, walk to your car, another ten, but your umbrella wasn’t working, round that up to an hour, leaving at 6. You arrived home, no, not home, at your boyfriend’s house for dinner. However, you’re not comfortable enough with one another yet for you to use his shower, or perhaps you are, but you elected not to, and stay in damp clothes that only had seventeen minutes to dry with the heater on in your car for the journey there. You ate dinner, Mexican, had a glass and a half of five percent wine, realised you couldn’t drive, but you didn’t particularly want to stay. Nonetheless you sat and watched the telly with him for hours, football, I can see the dreariness in your eyes. I know how much you hate it, and frankly, same. You stayed for almost all of the match, seeing as you’re now sober, but something else happened.” She lulls her head to the side, prompting him, her smile not meeting her eyes. “As soon as the match ended, he tried to make a move on you, he pressed his mouth to yours, he tried to push his hand up your skirt;” his throat bobs with a vicious gulp; despising the thought of anyone else laying a finger on her, “you swatted him away, rightfully so.” 

He pauses a minute, his harsh tone of voice and his sharp face softening. He can see the vulnerability in her eyes, her walls about to crumble. This woman he appreciates so much. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Smiling melancholically up at him, she brings her hand back to his hair, her fingers carding through the soft curls. His face buries back into her chest just as her voice offers a broken whisper, “I broke it off. I was the one who couldn’t commit this time.” 

And as she lays her head on top of his, her breathing more shallow, resounding in her chest, he dwells over those very words. The way she said them, not to mention the words themselves, hold a myriad of meaning. What could she possibly-

Oh.

The subtext, yes, impeccable. She’s always had a way with implications and subtext, always knowing that the likelihood of him actually picking up on it is little to none. But now, now he’s become trained to her, her way of life, her way of thinking, her way of speaking. This is too good an opportunity to miss. If she means what he thinks she means, ever hopeful, then this is completely unfamiliar territory. 

Gathering all of his courage in one deep breath, he begins to pepper kisses on her skin. The faintest brush of his lips on the tops of her breasts, all that’s available to him with her shirt the way it is. He feels her heart flutter, her breathing stutter, but despite the chemical flush of her chest, he still isn’t quite sure she likes it. Not until he feels her grip on his hair increase, and he glances up to see her head thrown back. Her spine delicately arches against his hand, thrusting her chest further into his face. 

His nimble fingers reach for her buttons, undoing the top two, giving him space enough to find the valley between her breasts. Lathering kisses there, licking the swells of her boobs, his tongue pulsates with the increased thrumming of her heart. The sensation is new, so unbridled, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the stirring in his loins right about now. That unknowing is only further amplified by the sound that rips from her chest when he involuntarily bites down on the supple flesh. It couldn’t be… a moan?

Sure, he understands the chemistry of it, the reactions that occur in the synapses of the brain, the pheromones and hormones released when one is aroused, but this is all new to him. And, from his embarrassingly basic level of theory, surely that doesn’t start until some more stimulation on other parts of the body commence? Nipples, perhaps something lower down… then again, what does Sherlock know?

Of course it’s an intimate moment, the closest he’s been to a woman before, and maybe that’s why he freezes, stops, and she tugs his head up by his hair, her gentle, pleasured smile with her lips softly parted deepening the look of bewilderment painted onto his face. Her eyes are twinkling, alight with an excitement he hasn’t seen for far too long. 

“What are you doing?” she whispers. 

He shrugs his shoulders with a sudden force, his dressing gown falling off a little. “I don’t know. But now I feel like I read your pining words all wrong.” 

She gasps, a wheezing sound, sucking the air from the room. She smacks his arm gently, muffled by his button-down and dressing gown. “I wasn’t pining! I was saying.”

“Hmm, same difference.” 

Everyone must acquiesce when it comes to Sherlock Holmes. “But no, you didn’t read them wrong at all, but I know you don’t see me that way, you don’t feel things that way.” 

He pauses, his beautiful plump lips pursed, fidgeting on the bed. Brushing her hair off her face reveals the pain she expressed. However, her eyes glued on his, sadness is betrayed in every line of his young, clean-shaven face. His entire bone structure is taking a nosedive. 

“For you, I’ve been feeling everything from hate to love to lust, and I guess that’s how I know I want to hold you close.”

“Sherlock...” she whispers, her singular word an inflection of surprise. 

Never tearing his eyes from her, his hand comes up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the slightly blushing skin, searching her face, with his big blue eyes, for a shred of reluctance. But, all he sees is her, so he elects to do what his heart is yelling at him to do for once, and kisses her breathless. His full lips holding hers, his one hand on her face, the other still wrapped around her back. Hers fly around his neck, clinging to him for dear life.

It doesn’t take long, their movements steadily heating, for their previously slow, intimate kiss to grow into something more, Y/N pulling herself up from the bed and making herself comfortable on Sherlock’s lap. His breath hitches in his throat, a cute little hiccupping sound escaping his lips in between embraces. 

As much as he loves just this, soft caressing and gentle petting, he just knows she wants more. He does too, that much is evident from the length prodding at Y/N’s inner thigh as she moves gently on his lap. She won’t make a move, though, he’s too inexperienced, and she’s too much of a sweetheart to corrupt him, so she thinks. Ever since he first saw her, she’s been corrupting him slowly. He didn’t realise at first, but over the years, he began to understand, and now he’s in too deep. 

For Y/N? It’s always been him. Every breakup she’s had, she’ll come to Sherlock’s flat, full well knowing the real reason she broke up with them, because she couldn’t commit, because she was too caught up on him. 

Skimming his hands beneath her shirt, he savours the press of his hands on her bare skin, warmth seeping from her body into his, his fingers dancing along her spine. Electricity shocks her in bursts, unlike anything else, from his touch alone. 

“May I take your shirt off?” he asks. 

“Fuck, yes.” she groans. “May I do yours?”

“Be my guest.”

In a tangle of limbs, a few buttons pop off, and eventually, two shirts make it out the other side, tossed from the bed and into the laundry pile. Aka Sherlock’s floor. He’s like that: sock indexes, yet he won’t get a hamper. A walking contrast.

His thumbs press beneath the band of her bra, savouring the pressure of the flesh that falls into his hands, but that’s as far as he gets. 

“Never undone a bra before?”

He shakes his head sheepishly. “I know the theory. Just… you always wear peculiar ones.”

“I wear relatively normal bras, and this one is certainly bog standard. Had I known you’d be undressing me Mr Detective, I’d have worn something nicer.”

“Just do it for me.” He requests, chuckling. 

She unfastens her bra, and allows her breasts to spill from the cups, into Sherlock’s awaiting hands. The gasp that erupts from him sends Y/N’s brain into overdrive. He’s cupped her chest through her shirt before, buried his nose into her cleavage countless times, but never before have they had such skin on skin contact. Her lips press to his neck, shifting her closer to him. Sucking on his pressure point, she receives a similar gasp in response, only this one is more guttural, more a sound of pleasure than surprise. He’s wilting from a single kiss to his neck. 

“Has no one ever given you a hickey?” She husks in his ear, her voice alone sending tremors down his spine. 

“N- fuck, no.”

“I’ll make it worth it. All of this.”

“I know you will.”

She fuses her lips onto his again, savouring the faint hesitations as he grapples with his breath, eager to get some control on his mind with all that’s happening. Never did she ever think Sherlock would be here beneath her, his rough fingertips brushing over her peaked buds, and his palms dancing over her waist. Never did she think she’d hear him whisper his next words, either, not in a million years. 

“More.” he pleads. “Can we do… more? Whatever that entails?”

“That depends what you want to do.”

“Get me out of these damn trousers. They're rather uncomfortable.”

She snorts lightly, a piggy like sound, the one they bonded over all those years ago. “I can feel why.”

“I imagine you want out of your work trousers, too.”

“God, yes; they’re ghastly.”

“I don’t think so.” he hums. “You look nice.”

Her cheeks begin to burn, blood rushing to colour them, betraying her true feelings, but as he tweaks her nose playfully, the little snort escapes again. 

They were in the dining hall, second week of university, almost ten years ago, and Y/N was sitting with her friends, downing enough coffee to sink a ship, eating her hangover away, when her friends decided to make her laugh with tales of last night's drunken events. Unbeknownst to her, one of the greatest minds of the twenty-first century was sitting just a few seats down on the half-empty bench, watching her perceptively in his periphery. That’s when he first heard the sound. The cutest thing, and it startled him into action, beginning his deductions almost instantly. Admittedly, her student ID on the table aided him a little. 

He shocked her from her haze, too, as soon as he spoke her name. 

“Y/N, eighteen, jurisprudence first year, freshers week over with. You left a boyfriend back home, but you’re more sad about leaving your dog, as I would be. You don’t particularly care about law but know it’s a good undergraduate to receive anyway. Dyed hair, extrovert, killer hangover, and apparently there’s a little piggy living inside your nose. Sherlock Holmes, would you like some aspirin?”

“That’s weird; what are you, some kind of detective?” She asked, sans malice, a playful bounce to her words. 

“Chemistry, going for a masters. But I do like the mystery, yes.”

“So you’re… bright. Nice to meet you, Sherlock, and it seems you know almost everything you need to know about me. But yes, I will take that aspirin, if you don’t mind. How was your weekend?”

He smiled at her, the first true smile he’d given in a long time. “It was nice, thank you.”

And thus a friendship was born, all because he heard her little piggy snort. 

Her slender fingers work wonders with the fastener and zip of his suit trousers, and even manage hers too, all within the space of a few seconds, but Sherlock is reluctant to let her go, even just to get her trousers off. 

“I need to sit up, just for a minute.”

“No.” Sherlock commands, insistent. “We can make this work.”

“Sure we can, but it won’t be very comfortable. Come on.”

She’s barely peeled away from him and wrestled hers off before he’s drawing her back in for a kiss, his trousers settled just above his knees. 

“Sherlock,” she protests, mumbling against his lips, her hands on his heavenly, broad, muscular shoulders. “Sher!”

Her squeal at his sudden tug on her panties disappears, captured by his eager mouth. And in fact, her panties seem to disappear along with it, thanks to Sherlock’s swift movements and nimble hands. Maybe he’s had some experience to be so good at this…

“You sure you wanna go this far?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been. I need you.” 

He takes a deep inhale, dropping his forehead against hers, his breathing coming out in bursts as he tries to get a grasp on the situation. “Kiss me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, instantly getting to work on the waistband of his boxers as his tongue lavishes her own. His hips rise briefly, just long enough for her to tug the elasticated material from around him, slipping past her, and then he kicks it into their growing pile of clothes. His length falls into her awaiting palm, and-

“Wow.” She exhales in amazement. “If I’d known you were packing this much, I’d have jumped you long ago.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Absolutely not, until tonight I thought you’d just laugh at me.”

He pecks her lips affectionately, “Never. You’re bloody beautiful, I’ll let you do anything to me.”

“Hmm, anything, you say?”

Stifling a chuckle against her neck, he recommences, “Maybe not anything.”

Yeah, that's definitely the right call. Still, she finds herself all but clawing at him, her breath hovering teasingly just over his lips, their noses touching, her hands clamped to his cheeks, feeling the building heat there. She must be making such a mess of his bed right about now, but for one night? It can’t matter.

This is a one time thing, it has to be. Sherlock just needs to release some tension, she just so happens to be there. Still, she can’t prevent the little glimmer of hope shining through at the possibility of this being a more-than-one-time thing. The moral compunctions of their friendship after this don’t matter anymore, because he’s leaving a fire in his wake, his delicious fingertips digging bruisingly into her bum before trailing lightly up her spine, skimming her shoulder, brushing her neck - arched for him to reach where he wants, able to mark her as his own - and finally slipping over her lips, taken obediently by her awaiting mouth. Christ, if there’s one thing she hopes for tonight, it’s that his actions never relent.

Whether it’s what he intends to happen or not, his fingers in her mouth give her an idea, one she prays he goes along with at least a little, so she pulls away. The dirty, telling smile on her face hints at what she’s about to do, lending Sherlock to shift a little more up the bed, his eyes following her every move. Hands splayed on his thighs, her small fingers gripping onto the fine hairs there, she begins to take his tip into her mouth, never once breaking eye contact with him. Yeah, this is what’ll drive him insane. 

Inch by inch, she takes him into the welcoming heat of her mouth, pulling off slowly, only to go down again. She adds her tongue into the mix at some point, too, and her hand, on what she can’t reach, tickling his balls, but further than that, his mind is blank. Hot white, washed with pleasure. The sounds he emits are other worldly, so much that he has to muffle himself with his own hand; what would Mrs Hudson say? He’s always had such control over his mind and body, but this… he’s slowly losing all semblance of control, and he’s not even mad about it. What he does know is that there’s a building heat in his abdomen, a coil about to spring, and his cock is beginning to twitch. If she keeps going this incredible way, her teeth grazing him ever so gently, adding another new sensation into the mix, he’s inexorably going to finish before he can help it.

“As much as I adore your torturous ministrations, I think I need to be inside you…” He husks, his voice deep.

A smirk gracing her lips, she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, mischief glinting in her pretty little mesmerising eyes for a second, before she hollows her cheeks and takes him wholly, allowing his length to slip partially down her throat. Her moan reverberates around him, and Sherlock begins to thrash above her, scrunching the duvet in his hands, not caring if it creases. If there’s one thing Sherlock hates, it’s creases. And being called a machine by his best friend. Right now, though, it seems as though every misstep in his day has led him here, into the welcoming heat of Y/N’s mouth, taking him so eagerly, her tongue lapping at the vein on the underside of his dick, a string of saliva remaining as she pulls away. 

“I think you’ve got a couple of rounds in you, Mr Detective. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.” He stammers, his head tossed back in pure ecstasy a moment later as she begins to work on the head with kitten licks. “But… can I s- fuck me, say something?”

“I plan on it.” she chuckles, “anything.”

She goes back to peppering kisses all over his member, tip to base, brushing his balls, working her way back up. 

“Touch yourself f- for me.”

“What? Why?” 

Her tone is more inquisitive than anything else, but upon that playfully rueful look in his lust-darkened baby blue eyes, she knows he’s going to get her back for this little display, and he’s just worked out how. It works both ways, she can prepare herself for what’s to come next while pleasuring him. And he gets to watch. It’s a win-win for him. Maybe he likes this sex thing a little more than he’s letting on. 

“Are you sure you want me to? I’ll just make a mess on your sheets, Sher.”

She swallows him again, bobbing her head up and down on his length a few times while he grapples with literal reality. He’s teetering on the edge. One more move, and he’s a goner. His head is already against the wall, lolled there. 

“I don’t care about the sheets, darling, I need you ready for me.”

She gulps, nods, and reaches one hand around her, skimming over her stomach, until it nestles between her thighs. She rubs her thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-come beading there, while she rubs over her throbbing pearl, pressing softly. Then, as she inches down on his cock, taking him in her mouth, she also collects the slick from between her thighs, and uses it as a lube to push a finger inside herself. Of all the times she’s touched herself, she never imagined, even in her wild Sherlock fantasies, that she’d be doing it with his dick down her throat. With every bob of her head, she scissors herself more, sinking back onto her fingers. 

“I think I’m-” Sherlock begins to say, his words cut off by an utterly obscene moan splitting the air. 

She hastily abandons her one post, and wraps both of her hands around his girth, working on what she can’t fit into her mouth with her increased speed, licking and suckling his head as he begins to fall apart, coming, with a scream, down her throat, his one hand clamped over his mouth, biting down harshly to silence his cries; the other buried in her hair. 

His whole body falls lax, completely spent, meanwhile, Y/N savours every drop she’s been able to draw from him. He softens in her mouth, allowing her change to slip away from him, grasping a tissue from the bedside to wipe away any excess. That’s certainly something she never thought would happen… 

He’s calm, though, smiling lazily through hooded eyes, his breathing regulated once more, making beckoning motions to her with his big hands. He’s placated, though, and sliding her hands into his, she’s allowed time enough to get into place, smiling softly at him, raking her fingers over his scalp in a comforting way. Even as she sits herself on his lap, she can feel him hardening beneath her ass, slowly but surely. She was right about him, he’s definitely got another round in him. 

“Do you have a condom?” he asks. 

“No, sweetheart, they’re in my other bag. I didn’t plan on getting any for a while… do you?”

“Not in here, that I’m aware of. John may have stashed some in my less favoured dressing gowns or socks, and he definitely has some upstairs, but I’m unawares.”

“I’m gonna sound crazy here, but do we need one?” She says hesitantly. His eyes widen, he cocks his head to the side. “I was tested after my last partner, I’m clean, and on birth control. You’re a virgin. There’s no point, is there?”

“You have a considerably good point.”

With that, energy rejuvenated a little, he wraps an arm around her body, flipping them over so he’s on top, shadowing her, looming over her, gazing down at every inch of her naked beauty.

“Take your time. I’ll be your safety.”

“I know.” he whispers, a tearful smile making its way onto her face. “Thank you.”

He needn’t say more, because she already knows why she’s being thanked. For her kindness, for making him so comfortable, for accepting the fact he’s still a virgin in his late twenties and, if he’s being honest, has no damn clue what the practicality and reality of sex is. Sure, he’s seen porn. He’s also looked at John’s laptop. But that doesn’t prepare one for when the moment comes. It’s like all of that goes out the window, and he simply remembers the first time he opened a biology textbook at secondary school, pictures of flushed organs staring back at him, desperately waiting to be relieved. That’s what his own coock is like right now, already hard again, virtually pulsating with hunger in his palm. He strokes himself a couple of times, glancing down at Y/N’s wide eyes.

“Are you okay? Can I…”

“Yes, Sherlock,” she chuckles, “whenever you’re ready.”

Now, he thinks. He rubs two digits through her folds, gathering her wetness, enamoured with the way it glistens on his fingertips. Tentatively, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around them to get a taste. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he moans. She’s better than any cup of tea he’s ever had. 

His cock slaps against his lower stomach pleadingly, so he grasps it in his hand, and begins to enter her, pushing gently, feeling every flutter of her walls. Her arms fly out, hands grasping his shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons in their wake at the delicious stretch. It’s nothing like they’ve ever felt before. 

“Can I move?” He asks, balls deep inside her, their pelvises flush against one another. 

“Please.” She all but begs. 

Before doing anything else, Sherlock hooks one strong arm around her body, malleable in his hands, and holds her chest against his. Her breasts push into his skin, her nipples gaining friction from the dusting of hair there. Her one hand cups his slender neck, the other, his sharp cheek. Their eyes meet in a fierce gaze of burning intensity, and he begins to move. Slow, calculated, sharp thrusts punctuate her core. With every heavenly stroke, he can feel the ridges in her velvet walls, squeezing around him unwittingly.

“Jesus,” she cries, her clutch increasing. 

“Hmm, not quite.”

The smirk in his words is quite literally audible. He’s so cocky, so full of himself, and fuck if she can’t feel another gush of arousal coursing through her, drenching his cock. How does he manage to be so attractive when he’s so dishevelled?

“Is that good?” He asks, unsure.

“So good.”

She brings her legs up, skimming the clenched backs of his thighs, until they wrap around him, drawing his hips into her at a new and improved angle. Heels digging into the base of his spine, he begins to move with a new purpose, his thrusts more passionate as his breath is drained from him by her kisses, his eyes alight with a new flame. 

“Oh my God, Sherlock.” She pants, pulling him in for a kiss he greedily returns. 

He drives his hips deeper, squeezing his fingertips into her supple waist bruisingly. It’ll be a mark that she belonged to him once, even just for one night. That’s when he reaches that special spongy spot that makes her entire body buckle. She all but screams, pressing into him wholly. 

The coil is building, ready to break. He seems to be nearing the edge, too, his member twitching inside her when he buries himself particularly deep. She’s oh so fucking close… She licks into his mouth filthily, desperately clashing her teeth with his, eager for his kisses to tide her over. Silence her. Shifting his supporting hand, he trails one dextrous finger around to circle her clit, adding the faintest pressure for a moment. She mewls as he groans into her hot skin, clawing at him, entirely at his whim. Now he knows where to press, he settled his grip back around her, and draws her in close. This time around, he bends his knees a little more to measure his movements more carefully, ensuring that he ruts up and brushes her sensitive bud with his pelvis, helped by the extra friction of his neatly trimmed pubic hair on every thrust within her, his tip just scraping her g-spot.

“I- Sherlock, please tell me you’re- oh sweet mercy- close.”

He grunts softly in her ear. “So close.”

Their lips meet tenderly, passionately, in what they acknowledge to be a final kiss, moans mixing between them, savoured by the other. 

His thighs clench, her legs tighten around his waist, and finally, her sweet walls flutter, squeezing him as she reaches her climax, his not following long after, spilling inside her, painting her soft walls white, marking her. 

“Y/N,” he cries in ecstasy as his orgasm reaches him. “Sher…” she repeats, her saving grace as pleasure washes over her entirely. 

Their whole bodies wind up pressed together, bound together as one, skin on skin completely, becoming one another. 

He lets her down gently, unravelling his grip, unsurprised when their sweaty skin sticks together. Her long legs unfurl, splaying in a butterfly. Sherlock tumbles ungracefully away, somehow landing with a certain gangly elegance on the space of mattress beside her, his arm instinctively flying over to place on her stomach, the skin hot and flushed red. Her chest moves hastily up and down with the thrumming of her heart, while his barely shifts despite his shallow breaths, his white skin glistening in the moonlight. 

“Are you okay?” He huffs, turning on his side. “You look pretty fucked out.”

His baby blue eyes train instantly on her nipples, hard in the open air. This is the first notifier, the first inkling she has to feel self conscious, so she draws the sheet up around her as best as she can. Sherlock’s not having any of it, taking a stronghold on her arms, and pulling her until she’s lying on him, naught to separate them. 

“I’ve never been this close to anyone physically and y'know.” He hums tiredly. She’s never heard him sound tired before… 

She smiles up at him as best she can, “Are you glad?” 

He begins to hold her ever closer, squeezing her tighter, feeling every ridge of her body. 

“I’m so glad that you were my first, in so many ways.” 

Praise from Sherlock is a rarity, and she’ll take it as and when she can, savouring every moment, this time by holding him like a koala, her grip not wavering. 

“I’m glad too, Mr Detective.”

He brushes a kiss to her cheek, “As much as I like this, we need to get you cleaned up.” 

A supporting arm beneath her bum, he picks her up, and unsteadily ambles into the bathroom. 

“I don’t know much about this, but I know you should probably use the toilet, should you want to avoid a UTI, so if you’d like me to leave…”

He sets her down on the loo seat, cupping his hands over his nether regions, and he hurries to grasp for things, until she puts her hand on his arm, squeezing in a conciliatory manner. 

“You do remember the camping trip, don’t you? You really don’t have to leave just because I have to pee, you never did before. In fact, you frequently annoyed me with it if you had a particular point to make, steadfastly refusing to leave the bathroom after following me in there when I went to pee. Why does this change anything?”

He shrugs, dropping whatever was in his arms, “It just doesn’t feel the same now, though.”

“Ooo, and now Mr Detective feels things.” She jokes, poking at his ribs. 

He recoils, chuckling with her, “Only for you.”

As Y/N washes her hand, Sherlock begins to wrangle with a floorboard, clattering about until he eventually pulls out a small lock box, from which he withdraws a packet of brand new marks-and-spencer's ladies briefs. 

“Why the fuck do you have these? Anything you wanna tell me?” she asks, eyes wide.

“John’s idea. He has plenty of girls over here who frequently stay the night, simply a precautionary error.” He takes a beat, gargling with some mouthwash, “they’re clean, new, I just don’t like the idea of you in dirty underwear, and I know how reluctant you are to go without them whenever you’re not in your own bed. I stayed with you enough nights in university to know that.”

Those nights were awfully painful. She’d take the floor, he’d take the bed, and every time she’d have to wash the sheets. He’d sweat and vomit, shake and cry, plead for the pain to be over. He wouldn’t go to hospital, he wouldn’t call his brother, he’d just turn up on her doorstep, high as a kite, almost in tears, knowing he’d gone a little too far. And each time, it was a little farther. 

“Thank you, Sherlock.” 

She takes them from him, and begins to shimmy them up her legs, only prevented by Sherlock moving to grab a handful of her arse. 

“Hmm, I like this. Fancy another round?” He smirks. 

“I’m too tired, babe. Give me a bit.” 

He can see the lazy smile on her face, the tiredness in her pretty eyes, so he wets a flannel, and begins to clean her up with gentle movements between tender kisses.

“How do you know how to do all of this?” She asks, inquisitive more than anything. 

“Instinct, I suppose. I never read or learned about it, seeing as I never thought it would happen.” 

She snaps the waistband before moving her hands to his waist, leaning up onto her toes to reach him, kissing her softly. 

“Look at you now.”

After brushing their teeth in an amicable silence, their pinky fingers overlapping on the porcelain of the sink, he aids her back to the bedroom, settling her on the bed. She has things here: deodorant, toothbrush, moisturiser, and yet somehow she doesn’t have underwear, even after all these years. Perhaps that's one too many things to explain… 

With superfluous extravagance, he throws her his shirt, offering her a wry wink. She finds a blush clawing its way onto her cheeks, dumbfounded. It smells like him, just like a forest glade if it was rained on by tea and cigarettes. Maybe he’ll let her keep it as a memory.

In such a short amount of time, she’s learnt that he has a very sensitive neck. Very. A single kiss there has him biting back a moan. A low one at that, considering his deep voice also drops almost an octave when he’s aroused. His nipples are almost as sensitive as his neck, and he rather likes it when she tugs on them unwittingly. 

His first orgasm comes quickly, but his refractory period is astonishing, and it takes longer to achieve a second high, long enough to make her come more than once, she assumes, though her first orgasm was mind blowing enough for two. Perhaps that’s just because it’s his first time, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

What’s the point in learning all of this if, once he comes around from his post-orgasmic haze, he’ll pretend like it never happened, in typical Sherlock style?

The shirt, though a small gesture, means a lot, and her vision begins to cloud as she looks down at the black cotton. 

“You mean you want me to stay?” She croaks.

Sherlock turns to her from his set of drawers, his face full of apparent obviousness, brows furrowed in that cute bewildered way. 

“Of course I want you to stay.” He states, like it’s the plainest thing in the world, like it’s stupid for her to even ask. But she’s silent, and when she says nothing in response, he launches into a long winded explanation: don’t show sentiment. “I- I just mean, i-it’s midnight, I’m not having you out in London alone. You stay with me. Only if you want to as well...” 

She nods eagerly, “Yes. Yeah, course I want to stay.”

He all but leaps access the room, jumping onto the bed, before planting a proper smooch on her lips, grinning down at her. He slips into his usual side of the bed, and she takes hers, rolling to look at him.

“Don’t get cold.” He warns, tucking the duvet up around her shoulders. She giggles like a child, that small snort sounding again, prompting Sherlock to press his thumb to her nose like a button. “How are you… feeling?”

“I’m fine bub, really. That bloke doesn’t matter to me at all. Bit of a scumbag if I’m honest. You’re the one I’m with, the one I wanna talk about. How are you feeling? Must’ve been a pretty big blow up with John for you to call me and be so... teary.”

He sighs, crestfallen, “He called me a machine.”

Her gasp pierces the air, her hand flying to his hair, stroking in consolation, cooing senseless reassurances to him. She’s done this innumerable times, but now it feels different, like there’s no barrier. 

“He’s done it so many times that it needn’t bother me anymore, but the way he looked at me, like I was this abhorrent monster, especially after the day and the disappointing case we had, it got to me. I hate having feelings.”

“You don’t have to hide them with me, though.”

He hums gently, burying into her chest. “I know. That’s why I treasure you so dearly.”

“That means you also have to trust me, and you’re not going to like what I have to say.” His chest heaves, shifting her whole body. That’s his way of giving in. “Please just talk to John. You know that whenever he leaves, he’ll come back, and try to pretend it never happened. He needs to know you’re human and that he upset you, but also that the case upset you as well. No one’s superhuman, and once you let John in on the fact that you’re not a machine, things between you will be so much easier, because you might agree for once.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He grumbles. 

He pulls her into his warmth, hooking her leg around his as he snakes his arms around her back, breathing deeply from the crook of her shoulder. She begins to pepper kisses on his salty skin, savouring the taste with every small swipe of her tongue.

“Your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck,” he breaks off with a faint whimper when she sucks a little harder, “I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.”

“Of course they do,” she whispers brokenly, hoarsely, “they’ve always known you.” She swallows thickly, “Does that mean it’s a feeling you’ll forget?”

“No, I don’t think I ever can.”

The silent words that pass between them both are so special, too special to be spoken aloud. ‘Think I’m in love now.’

“Kiss me like you wanna be loved.” He begs. 

And really, who is Y/N to deny him? They just stay that way a little while, revelling in their lazy kisses, until she begins to fall asleep. It isn’t the first time she’s fallen asleep in his bed, not by any means, but it’s the first time she’s fallen asleep in his arms. She isn’t mad about it.

“Settle down with me, cover me up, cuddle me in. You were made to keep my body warm.” She smiles into her words, and embeds herself into him, entirely covered by the duvet, spattered in his kisses, safe in his arms. Sherlock feels safe with her legs around him, her fingers in his curls, holding himself against her. Amicable silence is how they drift off, Peaceful.

John re-enters 221B at a respectable hour. He got a fair amount of sleep on Greg’s sofa, having no girlfriend in the picture right now, but not enough to deal with Sherlock just yet. Not before his coffee. He expects to see Sherlock sitting in the exact same spot as when he left, perhaps just with a refill of tea, his fingers still steepled beneath his chin, eyes closed yet wide awake. Instead, he arrives at a seemingly empty, considerably clean flat, with no Sherlock in sight. Perhaps the unsleeping man must actually be asleep, he thinks, so he quietens down, and toes off his shoes before wandering farther into the flat. Even if the man does piss him off extraordinary amounts, perhaps he should just check he’s okay…

He gives the bedroom door a quiet rap, listening in momentarily before pushing it open. Frankly, he’d rather have found Sherlock with a cigarette in hand and the whole flat torn to shreds for the level of surprise he gets upon reaching the bed. His first idea is to scream bloody murder, but that might annoy Mrs Hudson, and upon stepping closer, even in the sliver of daylight through the curtains, he sees the duvet riding down a little. The last thing in the world he ever thought he’d see: Sherlock in naught but boxers pressed against a half naked woman, his palm splayed on her bare thigh. Sherlock? Spooning? It seems so, his entire body pressed to this woman. John feels himself go rigid, his feet glued to the floor, his gaze unmoving from shock. 

It takes his phone to buzz in his pocket to get him moving, and when he does, all he tries to do is balance precariously on his tip toes in a wry attempt to get a birds-eye view of the whole thing. He’s not disappointed, or disturbed, once he does, though, his army agility proving useful. Sherlock’s hand is holding her, fingers entwined, just next to her chest. He wonders how comfortable it is, but if they’re staying this way, it can’t be too bad. Maybe all Sherlock needed to loosen up was a good shag. 

She’s wearing his shirt, too; Sherlock’s black dress shirt from the previous day. And Sherlock? He never seeps in anything less than a full set of pyjamas, he’s weird like that . 

This girl begins to stir, her lips parting gently, small hums escaping. Next, her eyelids flutter, and her hair shifts on the pillow. He didn’t make any noise, did he? John was specifically careful not to, just in case. He doesn’t fancy Sherlock’s wrath just yet. 

One eye opens, and she whispers, almost incoherently, “Hi John.”

How she knows his name and who he is, he’s not at all sure, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen this face in his life. The hair is familiar, and maybe, if she were more awake, he’d recognise her smile, but he’s never seen a woman in Sherlock’s company beside Molly Hooper. Speaking of… 

Before he can even say anything, though, before he can ask who she is or if she wants tea or if she date-raped his roommate, she’s mumbling, and detaching her hand from Sherlock’s, rolling over. Dumbfounded, John just stands there and watches her cuddle into Sherlock’s chest, her arms wrapping around his torso like second nature. Even in his sleep, not consciously thinking about his actions, he grips her back - one hand resting just above her bum, and buries his nose into her neck.

John can’t help but smile to himself. Maybe their fight was for the best if Sherlock now has a girlfriend, someone he turned to for solace. So, he grasps for the top of the duvet and pulls it up over both of their figures, reaching their shoulders, and leaves, staring wistfully for a brief moment at the seemingly happy couple. 

The weight of the duvet of what startles Sherlock, though, stirring him a little, inviting him to him against Y/N’s skin, smiling with eyes barely open. This is really nice, he thinks to himself, not waking up alone. 

She smiles back blearily, and in her morning voice, whispers to him, “Kiss me Mr Detective.”

[grasshopperjay]

faith forgotten land

evermore series | track 10: ivy

i can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland.

pairing: jay halstead x reader

word count: 2.2k (previous part) (next part)

warnings: swearing, violence, death, infidelity (this is part 4 of a small series)

You’ve barely walked five steps from Molly’s when an arm wraps around your waist from behind. The panic sets in, a scream already rising in your throat when you hear a familiar chuckle.

“Relax,” he mumbles, and you let out a sigh of relief, relaxing in his hold instantly.

“You scared the shit out of me,” You whisper, and then your back hits the wall.

“I missed you,” Jay grins, his hands sliding from your hips up to your ribcage. When they venture back, the cool silver of his ring stings the bare skin on your shoulders, and you freeze.

His wife is inside. It makes you feel sick to your stomach. You never thought you’d find yourself in a situation where you would be the other woman. After that night at your apartment, you swore you’d never do it again. But you did. Again, and again and again.

It’s happened four times.

The second time was slip up. You went to the station to return his watch that he had left at your place. He brought you into the locker room to talk about things. He insisted it could never happen again while he backed you against the locker. Somehow you ended up bareback on the bench with him on top of you.

The third time was another slip up. You were both at Molly’s. Jay left and you followed him out with the intent of apologizing and setting things straight. Your best intentions turned into his head between your legs in the back of his truck.

The fourth time was supposedly another slip up. Jay came to your door and mumbled something about you dropping an earring in his truck, but it must have been a lie to get him through to door, because you had both earrings, and his lips were on yours within seconds, and you were both naked in the shower a minute later.

Now here you are, on the verge of another slip up. But you can’t let it happen, this time you’re determined to stop whatever’s happening between the two of you.

“Jay,” His name falls out as a sigh, but not the good kind, and the smile slips easily from Jay’s handsome face.

“Yeah.” He whispers back, “I know.”

“What are we doing?” It’s as much of a question to yourself as it is to Jay. “Why weren’t we like this when we were together?”

He chuckles humourlessly, and you pull your eyes from him, looking at him too long gives you brain fog.

You’ve realized plenty of times you have a complete lack of self control when it comes to Jay.

The way he makes you feel is completely overwhelming. He’s married, and it’s wrong but that doesn’t stop that glow that results from his touch.

You wish you could move on. Will was at Molly’s tonight, his eyes on you the entire time. You wish you could give him the same attention, but he’s vying for a heart that belongs to someone else.

He gently intertwines his cold hand with yours, and you look back at him again. All the guilt you feel dissipates when he looks at you like this.

After you and Jay ended it, you put up walls to try and keep from getting hurt again. You thought someone would eventually come and knock them down, but you’re quickly realizing that will never happen. You truly don’t know if you’ll ever be over Jay. He grows with you, like an ivy covering a brick wall.

You have to at least try to separate yourself from him though, which is why you pull your hand from his. “We can’t keep doing this. What if Hailey finds out?”

At the mention of her name Jay recoils a little bit, taking a step back. It’s for the best but it still hurts, because if this is really the last time you’ll see him like this, you want him as close as possible.

You sigh and move off the wall, wrapping your arms around Jay’s waist. You’re like an addict, trying to get a final fix before attempting sobriety.

You’re going to treasure these memories. The stolen moments. The fear of withdrawal is already looming.

“Ugh, look what you started Jay.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just hugs you tighter.

You stay in his arms for another warm minute, and then whisper a loaded but probably temporary goodbye.

“Can I walk you to your car?” Jay asks.

“It’s down the street,” You mumble, “More time with you seems like a bad idea right now, so I’m gonna say no.”

“Are you sure?” He tries.

“I’m sure,” You answer, finally backing away from him. “Go back inside.” Then you turn your back to him, setting a quick pace for the short walk to your car. You force yourself not to look back.

There’s a boy walking in front of you, he keeps turning around, like he’s checking for something, and you hope you’re not making him nervous.

Instead of staring, you roll up the sleeve on your jacket, admiring the new tattoo on the inside of your wrist.

It was on impulse, and it was probably stupid, but you’ve accepted that Jay and your seven year relationship- that won’t ever seem to fully end- has been a big part of your life. This was your way of honouring that.

Your pulled out of your thoughts by tires screeching on the pavement. The boy walking ahead is stunned, he stops in his tracks as the car door opens, and a man jumps out. The boy turns to run but he’s not fast enough, the man grabs him by the hood, thrusting his arm out, punching over and over again.

The whole scene looks so strange and you don’t realize what just happened until the man let’s go, and the boys body falls limp to the ground. A red puddle expands around him, and terror fills your body when you look up and meet eyes with the culprit holding the knife. You hold each others gaze for a moment before he ducks back into the car and it guns away, just as fast as it pulled up.

Without thinking, you surge forward, falling to your knees beside the boy. You’re horrified by his young features, he can’t be older than sixteen. He’s sputtering and coughing, and blood is spilling out the corners of his mouth. You do the first thing you can think of, place both your hands on his chest, and scream at the top of your lungs.

“Help! Somebody help!” You keep going and going until finally in your peripheral vision a porch light flicks on. A woman steps out onto her deck, once you see her you immediately say, “Call nine one one! He’s been stabbed, hurry!”

She turns back into her house, and you hold pressure for a minute longer before reaching a bloody hand into your pocket, fishing for your phone. Your shaking hands can barely hold the device, but you manage to click on Jay’s name. Momentary relief fills you when he answers, but it’s gone instantly when you look back at the boy.

“Change your mind?” Jay says, but the words barely register.

“Jay I need help! A kid just got stabbed in the middle of the street, someone called nine one one I don’t know what to do, Jay- oh my god- there’s so much blood! Jay please- please help!”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know what street-,”

“Baby, think! Where are you? Where are you?”

“I’m around the corner from Molly’s, like four blocks down? I don’t know! Jay… Jay please,” You start to sob, the boys grip on your arm is loosening, his panicked eyes looking more and more vacant.

You try to put more pressure on the stab wounds, but there’s too many. There’s so much blood and you have no idea where it’s coming from. “Please, stay with me,” You plea, but there’s no response, only his eyelids slowly shutting. The phone slips from your hand and drops to the ground when you reach out to touch the boys cheek. “No! No, keep your eyes open! Look at me, look at me! C’mon, open your eyes,”

You can hear your name being shouted in the distance now, the sounds of fast footsteps approaching. Jay is next to you seconds later, his hands checking the boys neck for a pulse. Your frantic eyes meet his own, and you know exactly what’s happened when you see the look on his face. You start to shake your head, and then your hands are back on his chest, interlocked over his heart. You rise onto your knees to put all your strength behind the compressions, Jay’s voice in the background only makes you work harder.

“This is detective Jay Halstead with intelligence, badge number five one one six three, there’s an ambulance dispatched to 1921 Cortlandt street, you can cancel that, the victim is DOA. Send a patrol unit for backup, the offender is fleeing in an unknown vehicle.”

His words don’t stop you, it’s the hands tugging at your shoulders. It’s not Jay, but you’re being pulled away from the boy and instead of resist all that you can do is shake your head. You’re pulled to your feet, and when you realize who it is behind you, you immediately flinch away from her touch.

“Hey, it’s okay, you did everything you could.” Hailey says, but you just stumble backwards. The frantic feeling is subsiding now, replaced by rage that’s spreading from the middle of your chest outwards.

“They can still save him!” You shout, taking a step forward again only to be stopped by Hailey. You shove her hands away, giving her a look that about mirrors the anger you’re feeling. She holds her hands up in defense and backs off, “They can shock him, Jay!” You try again, but he stands, taking gentle steps towards you like you could bolt at any second. He’s shaking his head, so you repeat yourself, angry tears streaming down your face while you beg, “Let them try, he’s just a kid, let them try,”

Jay pulls you against him, and your voice catches in your throat, so you fight against him instead. He easily over powers you though, holding you tight when he tells you, “He’s lost too much blood, he’s gone.” He rubs your back up and down while you cry against his chest. You don’t know how long he holds you for, you’re in a daze.

After what feels like hours, Jay hands you over to Kim, and you follow her to Jay’s truck, unable to draw your eyes from the sheet covering the boys body. The rage is still there, becoming stronger and stronger by the minute.

He was just a kid.

The truck door opens, and Jay gets in. He barely has time to say anything before you’re blurting the words out, “I saw him, Jay. I know who did it.”

Jay just buckles his seatbelt and nods, not saying anything.

“I can help,” You tell him, but still no response. “The car was a black bmw. I don’t know the license plate, but I can pick the guy out in a line up-,”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Jay interrupts, his voice stern.

“What do you mean it’s fine?” You rear back, “I can help, bring me to the station, let me help.”

“I’m taking you home.” He responds.

“This can’t wait until tomorrow, Jay.” You tell him, “I should go do a composite sketch-,”

“You’re not doing anything!” Jay’s voice is so loud that it startles you, and all you can do is shrink back.

“What do you mean?” It comes out as a whisper.

Jay’s hand is white knuckling the steering wheel, his jaw clenched when he talks, “This was a gang hit, Y/N. You testify, and they kill you. That’s what they do, they don’t leave witnesses.”

Your heart nearly stops, a feeling of absolute dread seering through you as tears immediately blur your vision. You shut your eyes tight, and it’s like you’re staring at the man all over again. You can barely even speak, your throat is so tight, but you force the words out, your whole body shaking with them. “Jay, he saw me too. Before he got back in the car, he looked right at me.”

The look of absolute despair in Jay’s eyes only frightens you more. This is bad.

“Fuck.” It first comes out as a whisper, and then as a scream while he slams his fist against the steering wheel. You have to try not to cry, your bones rigid with panic. He pulls out his phone to send a quick text to a contact with a heart beside it, and then the truck revs forward, Jay doesn’t say another word. Pretty soon you realize you’re headed towards the precinct, and you wish it made you feel even a bit easier, but it doesn’t, not in the slightest. You’ve never been this scared in your life.

When you get to the station Voight is waiting upstairs. He hugs you and whispers encouraging words that do nothing to help calm you down. You go through the long questioning for the composite sketch, and you watch while Jay pins a picture of the boy, wide eyed and smiling on the board. You learn his name is Hayden, and it starts to hurt even more.

Jay tries to convince you to stay with him and Hailey, but you refuse for obvious reasons. You end up going to Kevin’s place, but because Jay won’t let you out of his sight, he ends up there too.

Him and Hailey have hushed conversations in the locker room before you go, and when she kisses him goodbye you push down the feeling of resentment, because it’s invalid. She’s his wife.

Kevin sets you up in his guest room, and Jay on the living room couch, and despite how tired you are, you can’t keep your eyes closed for even a minute.

You feel like you’ve been lying awake for hours on end when your room door slowly opens. You sit upright and watch as Jay shuts the door quietly behind him, when he turns he’s expecting to find you asleep, but his shoulders relax when he sees you sitting up.

“I couldn’t sleep, I just wanted to check on you.” He whispers.

You shuffle up on the bed to lean against the headboard, “Yeah me neither,”

He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands with a yawn. “So you were just gonna come in here and watch me sleep?” You ask, and the corners of his mouth turn up. At least he’s still capable of smiling after everything that happened today. “Kinda weird,”

He switches positions so that he’s facing you, his smile is gone and you’re quickly reminded how serious this situation is.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” Jay whispers, and you nod.

“I know.” In a momentary lapse of judgement, you hold your hand out for him. Jay takes it, but his eyes catch on the raised red skin on your wrist. “When did you get this?” He asks, and his finger goes to trace the black ink leaves.

“A few days ago,” You murmur.

“What is it?”

“An ivy,” You say, grinning at the small tickle of his touch.

“What does it mean?”

You shrug, trying to hide a small smile. “I’ll tell you when we’re out of this mess. Deal?” He doesn’t need to know it’s for him quite yet.

“Deal.”

You have another lapse in judgement when you whisper, “Will you hold me?”

He doesn’t respond, he just pulls you down and moves in behind you, letting you curl into his chest. When you close your eyes this time, you’re actually able to fall asleep, and the fear dissipates with Jay’s deep breaths.

And had he known what would happen in the morning, he would have never let you get out of that bed.

It all happened so fast. Jay was going to bring you into the precinct. You were walking with him down the alley, right beside him until you split, him for the drivers side, you for the passenger.

Jay got in and started the truck, and then your door didn’t open. Then he heard the heart wrenching sound of your scream, and he got out of the truck just in time to see someone shoving you into the back seat of a black bmw, parked in a dip in the alley that he should have noticed.

His gunshots didn’t slow the car down as it peeled out of its spot, going the opposite direction, and carrying you further and further away from Jay.

By the time he got back in his truck, the car was almost out of sight. The gas pedal was against the floor but it wasn’t enough, it was too late.

Jay lost the car.

You were gone. ….. taglist: (once again this is my old one so if you want to be removed let me know! or if you want to be added lmk too!

@lorenakaspersen​ @jayxuptons @toomuchtv95​ @halstudandruz​ @halsteadsway y​ @hart-kinsella​ @astrosmayhem @life-treatments​ @dreamingmanip​ @jayhlstead​ @caromichaela​ @arual-hernandez @jesseleesofferupdates @mrspeacem1nusone (this is my very old taglist so if you guys wanna be removed/added just shoot me a dm! sorry if this tag bothers anyone!)

[ameliora-j]

twin flame ii // gw x reader

words: 2k

warnings: angst. like a LOT. bestfriend breakup, mention of blood

a/n: this one is significantly shorter than the first,, sry besties :)

part one | part three | part four

your heart twisted itself in pained knots, increasing the pounding of your head tenfold. it had been this way for days now. christmas with the weasleys came and went and the tension between you and george was thick. you could barely even look at each other without passing hard glares. you had all planned to go to the field at the back of the burrow and play quidditch, and you were currently tasked with collecting george. you knocked gently on the twins’ door before opening it. “hi georgie,” you beamed.

“hello butterfly,” he spat the nickname bitterly and you were taken aback. you ignored the twinge of pain in your chest as you stepped further into the room.

“um… we’re all gonna go and play quidditch. if you wanna join,” you offered a smile. “i need my broom partner,” you had never learned how to fly a broom. you figured life should be lived on the ground, the way merlin intended it to be.

“no thanks,” he grumbled.

“c’mon georgie, we’re the dream team!” you persisted.

“why don’t you ask charlie to be apart of your dream team. seems he’s already replaced me with everything else in your life,” the last part was muffled, not intended for your ears, but you still heard it. you furrowed your brows slightly before answering.

“don’t be silly georgie, i can’t play quidditch without my partner. you can’t break up the dream team,” you pushed, ignoring your confusion.

“yn, i’d really rather not watch you eye-fuck my brother. go ask him to be on your team. or better yet, learn to fly a broom. it’s truly not that hard of a task, even a simpleton such as yourself should be able to catch on quickly,” he seethed.

your heart skipped a beat as it sunk to your stomach and tears pooled at your bottom lash line. you nodded once and pivoted on your heel to leave the room. you sniffled quietly as you closed the door to his room and went downstairs. “george?” fred asked as you came into view.

“he doesn’t wanna play,” you murmured half heartedly as you pushed passed the group of people to go outside. you released a sigh as you plunked yourself down onto the grass, lying back and throwing your arms over your eyes as you forced yourself to keep your tears at bay.

“hey, ynn, c’mon you can fly with me,” charlie offered with a smile as he held a strong arm out to you.

“nah, ‘s okay charlie. i’ll watch with fleur and hermione,” you murmured softly.

charlie’s brows furrowed slightly. you had never called him ‘charlie.’ it was always ‘char char.’ “you okay?” he asked and you simply nodded in response. he released a sigh as he jogged to the center of the field where his other siblings, and harry, were at.

“what happened mon amour?” fleur asked you softly.

“he called me stupid,” you sniffled. “said i replaced him with charlie but i didn’t,” you whimpered softly as you confided in the two girls sat on your sides. “he hates me. this was a stupid plan. ‘m just gonna go home,” you sobbed softly, causing fleur to pull your head to her lap as she trekked her fingers through your hair.

“i’m sorry, yn. i didn’t know he would react like this,” hermione spoke softly.

“not your fault, mione,” you murmured half heartedly as you stood and wiped your eyes. “‘m gonna go home,” you released a shaky breath as you pushed yourself to stand.

you dusted your bottom off as you walked back into the burrow. you waved your wand, packing your stuff neatly in your bag before you wrote a note, thanking molly and arthur and left it on the counter. you grabbed your bag and headed to the fireplace, throwing the floo powder and taking yourself to your childhood home.

“hey yn!” your older brother greeted. “thought you were spending break with the weasleys?” he asked, confused.

���yeah,” you murmured despondently as you walked up to your room.

“okay?” his brows furrowed slightly. when you got to your room, you took out a pair of sweatpants and a gryffindor sweatshirt that you stole from george’s wardrobe and forced yourself to shower.

the water was hot. boiling even. you should have flinched at the heat. screamed. cried. something. but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you were uncomfortably numb. so you just stood there, unmoving, staring at the shower wall as the scorching hot water fell over your body. your breaths came out irregularly as you stood there. your body was screaming for you to get out. to turn down the heat of the water. to do something to stop the pain of the burns. but your mind told you that you deserved this. you needed to feel something other than the pain twisting around in your chest.

by the time you stepped out, your skin was tinted with a slight pinkish color. you took a ragged breath in as you dried yourself off and pulled on the sweatpants and sweatshirt. you didn’t even bother brushing through your hair as you pulled up the hoodie and tied the strings tightly. you whimpered soft as your tears made a trail on the floor on your trek back to your room. you crawled out of your window and climbed up to the roof. you ended up falling asleep on your roof, exhausted from the weight of your tears.

~~

you spent the rest of your christmas break—and longer—at your own home. you didn’t return untill fred had owled you telling you had three more days of paid vacation for the year. you flooed to your shared apartment with the twins and changed into your uniform, brushing through the knots in your hair that had accumulated over the days you laid in bed, sulking. you walked down the stairs into the shop as you pulled your hair into a ponytail and took your post at the till. “sorry ‘m late,” you murmured to fred, who appeared to be filling in for you at the present moment.

“you okay, bunny?” fred asked as he slid over so you could take over. you could only manage a despondent hum as you began working.

“thank you for shopping with weasley’s wizard wheezes, were you able to find everything okay today?” you asked the young wizard at the counter with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

that’s basically how the rest of your day went. forcing your tears back everytime george had to speak to you and being only half present with the customers instead of your usual lively self. when the day had ended and george locked the doors, you walked into the twins’ office and handed fred an envelope. “what’s this, bunny?” he asked you.

“my two weeks,” you murmured softly.

“you’re quitting?” he asked with raised brows.

“yeah,” you murmured. “found a job uh… closer to home. my brothers will be by to collect my stuff tomorrow,” you told him. “‘m gonna go pack,” you didn’t let fred say more as you quickly turned on your heel and walked back up to the apartment. “sorry,” you murmured as you bumped into george on your way up. he only gave you a distracted grunt in response.

as you walked up the stairs, you heard the argument brew between fred and george on your behalf. “fix her!” fred demanded.

“i didn’t do anything!” george defended.

“you broke her,” fred pushed back.

“she’s fine,” you could practically hear george roll his eyes.

“she’s quitting.” fred deadpanned.

“what?” george asked, shock lacing his tone.

“and she’s moving back with her brothers. so go and fix her. make this right,” you decided to end your eavesdropping here and rushed upstairs and into george’s room, where all your things were kept. you knelt on the floor as you took out your suitcases. you were halfway done when you heard the door creak open.

“butterfly?” your heart twisted and tears stung the backs of your eyes at the nickname you hadn’t heard in over a week. “whatcha up to?” he asked.

“packing,” you murmured softly, but he heard. and boy did he miss your voice like hell.

“for what?” he asked curiously as he sat on his bed.

“‘m moving back home. got a new job,” never once did you look up from your task, for you knew if you did, you would break.

“where at, butterfly?” he knelt on the floor in front of you as he began to help you fold your clothes.

“some muggle bookstore. ‘s close to the house,” your murmurs could barely be heard over the loud thumping of both of your hearts. however, george picked up on every word. he grasped your hands in his, effectively stopping your progress. “george please,” you whispered.

“look at me, butterfly,” he demanded softly.

“george,” you repeated a little bit louder.

“look at me. and tell me this will make you happy. and i will let you walk out that door.” you didn’t. you couldn’t. you knew that this isn’t what you wanted as well as he did. “you can’t, right? because it won’t,” he pointed out.

“i can’t be here, george. i don’t want to be,” you told him, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“why? because of me? because i will leave. yn, if that’s what it takes to make you happy, then i will walk out of that door and go back to live with mum. you only ever have to see me in a professional setting. and i’ll communicate with you through fred at work,” he spoke seriously.

“i don’t want that, george. and neither do you,” you told him.

“i don’t, but if it makes you happy then that’s what you’ll get,” he told you.

“no george!” you shouted.

“then what do you want?!” he shouted back.

“you george!” you yelled, finally meeting his gaze. “i want you! i’ve only ever wanted you but you’re too fucking stupid to see what’s right in front of you! i mean merlin’s beard george i’ve been in bloody love with you since fifth fucking year but you’re never seen it!” you finally released all the emotions you’ve been holding in for years. “i just wanted you,” you whispered softly, your voice cracking as tears fell.

you pushed yourself to stand from the floor and waved your wand, packing the rest of your stuff as you grabbed your suitcase. “butterfly, i-“ you quickly cut him off.

“don’t, george.” there was acrimony written all over your tone. “i don’t want your pity.” you sniffled and hastily wiped your eyes. you passed fred on your way out.

“yn?” he asked softly.

“bye fred,” you murmured softly. “i changed my mind. my resignation is effective immediately. i won’t be in tomorrow.”

“yn wait,” fred called.

“please don’t,” you shook your head. “d-don’t try and get me to stay. please just… just leave me alone,” you sniffled.

“i’m sorry…” he spoke softly. you just shook your head and wiped your tears away as you flicked your wand to apparate back home. when you landed on the road a few miles away from your house, you let out a wail of agony. your arm had splinched during the apparition process. you took a deep breath and pushed yourself through it. you knew this was a bad idea. every wizarding book in history advised against it. even a muggle would know not to. but you pushed past the thoughts to apparate into your living room.

“yn!” your older brother shouted as he saw you, blood pouring from your splinched right arm. you were only able to take two steps before you fell to the floor of your living room. you let out a soft groan and a whine of agony before closing your eyes, letting the feelings consume you. the pain in your arm cancelled out the pain in your chest as you let darkness overcome you, falling into the void, listening to the frantic screaming voices of your siblings.

stupid feelings. stupid boys. stupid george weasley. stupid twin flame.

twin flame. it’s almost laughable now. what a lie.

tags: @i-love-scott-mccall @ellerosie2332 @rmvb24 @astralpcrker @daisybloommm @maybeisthemoon @moonliightbabes @stormi-ames @jochim322 @coninl @melonoptimist @lunajoyce3 @clairdemoony @mangoberry99 @imclueless @enya-2004 @prongsyy @lol-whoandwhat-is-dis @burnfleur @anything444ourmoony @horrorxweasley @alicecullens-gf @theincredibledeadlyviper @georgeweasleyshoe3697 @narwhalebaby

* crossed out means i couldn’t tag you

add yourself to my taglist

or the series taglist

[austinsgirl]

Rather Die | Chapter 3

word count: 1852

rating: mild nsfw

——————————————————————

"Hey it's Austin. It was super nice meeting you & I can't wait to start working with you! Also, you're a great kisser by the way ☺️" A message from Austin pings to Victoria's phone.

Reading the message makes Victoria smile all giddy.

"Um, earth to Vic?" Eliana says.

"Oh sorry. Austin texted me. I'll text him back later, but he said Im a good kisser." Vic blushes.

"Oh shit. Alright, I see you Austin. Starting the flirting."

"I can't believe this is my life now. I'm going to work with that tall, sexy, blonde haired, blue eyed man & now he's kinda starting to flirting with me?"

"You're winning."

"So true. Love that for me."

"Do you know who else is in the cast for the movie?"

"I think Molly Ringwald is going to be in it, which is super exciting, as you know I love the John Hughes movies."

"Right, right. Seems like a cool story line. Are you hoping to hang out with Austin before hand?"

"I'm hoping so. Id really like to get to know him before filming."

"Well, seems like it's a possibility."

"Yeah. I can't wait to text him back."

The girls finish up at dinner, then head back home. Victoria goes upstairs & changes into comfy clothes and heads back downstairs to watch some TV before bed.

She pulls out her phone, and texts Austin back.

"Hey! It was nice meeting you too, and I can't wait either! And thank you. You weren't too bad yourself 😉"

Austin replies, "Oh really? Well, thank you. Id love to sit down and chat with you, get to know one another. Want to do drinks tomorrow night?"

"Sure, I'd love too! Where would you want to go?"

"There's this place I like called Lounge 86. We could go there?"

"Oh yeah, I've heard of that place! That works (:"

"Alright, so I'll pick you up tomorrow around 8:30?"

"Sounds great. I'll send you my address (:"

"Cool, I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night (:"

"You too (:"

Victoria is silently screaming to herself, not wanting to wake up Eliana if she's sleeping. She

cannot believe she's going out with Austin for drinks. Who would have ever thought?

The next day, Victoria's nerves were eating her alive.

"Babe, relax. It's not even a date. It's just drinks as friends." Eliana says to Vic, while she's making lunch for the two of them.

Vic paces back & forth. "I know, I know. But like, it basically is a date. We'll be alone, there's obviously chemistry between us. I feel like something is bound to happen."

"Maybe. Guess we'll see, but don't be nervous."

"Eli, this Austin Fucking Butler. The hottest guy on earth. I'm fucking nervous."

"You'll be fine. Here, eat your salad that I made just for you, then we can go pick out your outfit."

"Okay, okay."

The girls have their lunch, then go upstairs to Victoria's bedroom.

"Alright, so, what kind of vibe are we going for?" Eliana asks.

"I don't know. I guess hot, but classy?"

"Hm, okay. We could do a pant suit with a bralette underneath? A nice dress? Oo, how about this one? It's tight fitting, shows off the tits but not too much, with thick straps. Then pair it with a simple necklace & black pumps." Eliana holds up a black dress. Sexy but not too sexy. Classy, but not being super modest.

"Oh my god, yes. That's perfect. I wouldn't have even thought of that."

"You're welcome." Eliana winks.

Some time passes and Victoria gets ready for her night out.

She styles her golden brown locks up into twist, securing it with a clip. Her makeup is more on the natural side with some foundation, blush, mascara and a bit of eyeliner.

Once's she's beautified, she slips on her dress & pairs it with a simple plain heart necklace in silver.

There's a knock at the door. Must be Austin.

"I'll get it!!" Victoria yells from her room, slipping on her heels.

She scurries downstairs & answers the door.

Austin stands there in a striped navy suit with a plain black button down shirt underneath, of course the first few buttons being popped as usual, with a silver chain around his neck & heeled black boots.

"Hi." Victoria smiles.

"Hey." Austin smiles back. "You look great!"

"Oh, thanks. I just threw this on." she says jokingly.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's go."

They both walk out of the apartment building with smiles on their faces. Victoria can feel her stomach being in knots from being so nervous.

After getting into Austin's car, he drives them to the lounge where they'll exchange stories over drinks.

They immediately get seated at a table once they arrive, as Austin had made them a reservation.

They order their drinks and start the conversations.

"So, Victoria." Austin says.

"Mhm?"

"Tell me about you. Where are you from & all that."

"I'm from Auckland, New Zealand. I grew up with three older brothers, so I was the only girl plus the baby of the family. I've been acting for a few years now. Started off doing local stuff in New Zealand, then came here to LA. Wasn't super long after my ex & I broke up. You may have heard of him, Stephen James. He plays for the New York Rangers."

"Oh, yeah. I've heard of him. He's a good player. Crazy you both ended up in the US."

"Yeah, I feel like he followed me at first. He would hit me up every single time when he had a game here. Even though I would tell him no, or just not respond, he'd persist. It was annoying, but he's over it."

"How's New Zealand? I spent two years in Australia filming 'Elvis'. I can only assume they're pretty similar?"

"Yeah, they have their similarities. It's great there though. I miss it a lot. Im hoping once filming is done I can go back home to visit for a bit."

"I'll have to visit there someday. Maybe with you." Austin winks.

"Hmm, maybe. We'll see how things are in a few months." Vic smirks. "So how about you? Tell me some fun facts about 'Austin Butler'."

"Alright, uh, I was born in Anaheim, California. I have one older sister. My parents split when I was 7. I went to public school up to seventh grade then I was homeschooled to be more flexible with my acting gigs. Umm, my mom died when I was twenty three."

"Oh right, I remember you saying that in an interview. You were the same age as Elvis when he lost his mom. Im so sorry."

"Thanks. But yeah, we were the same age. It's one of the things that brought me close to him & made me really connect."

"I guess if we're getting that deep, I lost my dad when I was fifteen to heart failure. It'll be ten years this October, which is crazy."

"Oh my god. Victoria, I'm so sorry."

"Thanks. Crazy we both lost a parent so young."

"Yeah."

"How was it for you? Did it hit you really hard?"

"Yeah, it did. My mom was my best friend. I felt so lost. It's gotten easier of course, but that was the most difficult time in my life."

"I'm so sorry, Austin. I know that feeling. I was really close with my dad too. It was so sudden too. Like, even though he was in the ICU for a week & knew it was coming, it was still unexpected. I think I took almost a week off school because of how hurt I was."

"I guess I could say the same about my mom. Like, she had cancer. We knew it was a possibility of losing her, but when it happened, we weren't expecting it to be then."

"Right. Life's fucking crazy. You never know when you can have someone so important taken away from you."

"Yeah, it, uh, sucks to say the least."

"So is this movie your first project after Elvis?"

"No, this is my second. I did a mini series right after I finished Elvis, called Masters of the Air. It'll be out sometime next year."

"That sounds interesting. I still can't believe you played such an iconic person. I feel like I watched almost every interview you did. The dedication you put into it is astounding."

"Haha, thank you. Yeah, I'm really proud of it."

"Did you & Tom continue to write letters to each other in character after quarantine?"

"We did actually! It really helped to keep us in the mindsets of our characters."

"I think it's so cool that he got you a typewriter to do that. What a cool method."

"Yeah, it was great. I still have that typewriter too. I keep it in my office at home. I love it."

Austin & Victoria continue talking about their lives for another hour or so before heading out.

He drives back to her apartment building, thinking he was just going to drop her off.

"Want to come in?" Victoria asks.

"Sure." Austin smiles.

They make their way upstairs to the penthouse.

Quietly, they walk inside.

"Welcome to my humble abode." Vic says to Austin.

"Wow, this is a really nice place."

"Thanks." she smiles. "I love it here. Want anything to drink?"

"Just water is good. Thanks."

Victoria grabs a glass from the cupboard & fills it with ice and water. She goes over to meet Austin on the couch & hands the glass to him.

After taking a sip, "Tonight was really nice. Thanks for coming out with me." Austin says, setting the glass on the table in front of him.

"Thanks for inviting me. I had fun."

"Me too."

Austin looks deeply into Victoria's eyes, then to her lips. He leans in, pressing his lips to hers.

Victoria responds and kisses back. She wraps his arms around his neck, while deepening the kiss.

Austin runs his hands up her thighs, taking the hem of her dress into his hands, working her dress up her thighs to give himself access.

He starts to rub on her center, over her panties. Vic breaks the kiss for air, letting out a moan from his touch. Austin moves his lips to her neck.

He then decides to move her panties over, slipping in two fingers as his thumb plays with her clit.

"Austin, oh my god. That feels so good." Victoria moans out, before quickly realizing, even though she wants this, she doesn't. "Wait, wait. I dont think we should do this."

Austin keeps going, "Why not?"

"This is too quick. And I don't want our chemistry to run out so soon. I don't want this effecting our work."

Austin stops. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done anything."

"No, no. It's okay. It was fun, really. But I think work wise, it'd be for the best."

"Alright. I, uh, I think I'll head out. Thanks for the fun night."

"Same to you."

Austin kisses her on the cheek before leaving.

Once he's gone, Vic lays back on the couch in disbelief.

She says to herself, "What the hell just happened...."

—————————————————————

Chapter 4