#i tried to sing along with the song but i kept trying to raise my pitch to match rebecca's and that was Not Working

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 52 Chapter 52 | the sacred and the stupidly loved⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Eventually, the two of you strolled along the edge of the port now, the salty breeze kicking at the hem of your cloak. The water slapped softly against the stone, sunlight winking off the waves like thrown coins.

You found yourself talking—words slipping easier now, warmer.

"And then," you said, grinning a little, "this merchant—this idiot—tried to back me into a corner."

Hermes' arm tightened slightly around your shoulders, his head tilting toward you in interest.

"He got all handsy," you went on, waving your free hand for emphasis. "Grabbed my waist. So I grabbed him and slammed into the nearest wall, and held him at knife point, like I did you earlier. Even knicked him a bit."

Hermes cackled, loud and delighted, like you'd just given him the best story of the year.

"Gods, I knew there was something vicious brewing under that sweet little face," he laughed, bumping his hip against yours. "Proud of you, little musician. Very proud. Apollo's probably writing tragic songs about your deadly elbows already."

You chuckled under your breath, your body relaxing again, the easy rhythm of the walk carrying you forward.

But then, your eyes drifted to the left.

To the sea.

You weren't even trying to look.

It just... pulled you.

The water stretched out, endless and bright, sparkling under the sun like it had never swallowed a single soul. Like it didn't remember.

You did.

Your laugh trailed off.

Your steps slowed until you weren't moving at all.

You stared out over the waves.

And suddenly—

You could feel it all again.

The burn in your chest.

The way the sea pressed against your ribs like iron hands.

The thousand ghostly voices whispering and sobbing in the deep.

Eurylochus' hollow voice mourning missed time with Ctimene.

Your throat tightened.

Your fingers curled into your palms without meaning to, nails digging against your skin just to feel something solid. Something now.

You didn't even notice you'd stopped walking.

Didn't realize Hermes had kept going for two steps without you before he caught on.

He doubled back, still chuckling to himself—until he saw you.

And then he leaned down, ducking into your line of sight.

He lifted a finger and gave a light, playful tap against the side of your head.

"Knock, knock," he sing-songed, trying to break the tension. "Anyone home?"

You blinked, slow.

Pulled back into yourself like waking from a nightmare you hadn't meant to fall into.

And maybe it was the way your feet dragged. Or the way your arms stayed hugged close around yourself, like you were holding something broken inside.

Because his face faltered the second he saw you.

The grin he always wore—lopsided, too much—dimmed. His hand, still half-raised from tapping your head, dropped a little. His golden eyes scanned your face, and you knew he saw it.

The dark.

The heaviness still clinging to you like seaweed.

The part of you that hadn't really made it back to the surface.

Your throat worked around a dry swallow. You tried to smile. Failed.

Instead, your voice came out rough, smaller than you meant."Do you think..." You bit your lip, then forced the words through."Do you think my title lets me help them?"

Hermes blinked. "Help who?"

You looked out toward the sea without thinking. The waves curled lazy against the docks now — soft, gentle—nothing like the graveyard you'd floated in.

"King Odysseus' men..." you said, quieter. "The ones who never crossed. The ones just...waiting." You turned back to him, the weight thick behind your ribs. "Could I help them?" you asked. "Guide them to the other side? So they can finally get peace?"

You didn't even know what you were hoping for. A yes? A maybe? Something to make that ache less useless?

Hermes snorted through his nose, a little grin tugging at his mouth. "Help them? You?"

You stiffened.

His grin stayed sharp, but not mean. "Sweetheart," he said, tilting his head, "a title's just a prettier word for bait."

You blinked.

He shifted his weight onto one foot, tossing a coin up in the air and catching it without looking. "Makes people think you can do more than you ever promised," he said easily. "That's all it is. A trick. A song. Something that sounds good enough to soothe their fears."

He chuckled at first. That warm, lazy chuckle he always had tucked in his chest.

But then his gaze dropped to your hands.

And he saw it. The way you were twisting your fingers in the folds of your cloak. Knuckles tight.

The chuckle died in his throat.

Slowly, he straightened. His voice softened, lost the edges. "Hey," he said, quieter now. "You don't owe the sea anything."

You stared at him, breathing hard. Your hands stayed clenched at your sides.

He stepped a little closer. Close enough that the scent of him wrapped around you. "Just because someone gave you a title that sounds divine," Hermes murmured, "doesn't mean you became something you're not."

You flinched, a tiny jerk of your chin.

Hermes' mouth twisted, almost regretful. "Especially" he added, "when it was a mortal who gave it."

Your throat burned.

He didn't say Odysseus' name.

He didn't have to.

You already knew.

You shifted your weight, hands clenching at your sides, the knot behind your ribs pulling tighter. "I can heal," you said stubbornly, voice low, hoarse. "I healed that boy, back on Ithaca. I didn't imagine that."

The words came out sharper than you meant.

Maybe because you needed them to be true.

Maybe because you could still feel the cold weight of those soldiers back in the deep—their empty eyes, their forgotten hands reaching for you—and the guilt of not reaching back still sat like a stone behind your ribs.

You wanted to help them. You wanted to believe you could fix it. Anything less felt like leaving them there to rot.

Hermes only raised a brow, almost pitying. "And who do you think gave you that little trick?" he asked easily.

You froze. Your mind reeled back—

The lyre.

The golden light.

The way your hands had moved without you calling for them.

Apollo.

Not you. Not ever you.

Your mouth opened. Closed. Nothing came out.

Hermes watched the realization bleed slow across your face before he continued, voice lighter but not unkind. "Divine favor isn't the same as divine appointment. Healing? Sure. A blessing, a trick, a party favor—whatever you wanna call it. But shepherding souls?"

He shook his head, a soft, almost amused sound in the back of his throat. "That's different. That's weight. That's authority. And it doesn't get handed out because someone called you a pretty name."

You swallowed hard, the pressure thickening behind your chest.

Hermes rubbing the back of his neck lazily like he was explaining something to a stubborn apprentice. "If you wanted to guide spirits," he said, "you'd need explicit appointment." He lifted a hand, ticking names off his fingers casually. "Hades could grant it. Hypnos, maybe, if you caught him in the right mood. Me, if I was feeling generous—" He winked at that but you didn't smile. He sighed. "But you don't have that. You don't bear the weight of that law. Not yet. Maybe not ever."

You looked away, chest squeezing tighter.

"And as for those poor bastards down there..." Hermes shrugged one shoulder, careless in a way only gods could be. "That's just how it goes, little musician. Some souls get stuck. Some don't. Maybe, in a millennium or two, long after King Odysseus and his golden boy are dust, Poseidon will finally get bored of holding a grudge. But it won't be because of you. Or anything you failed to do."

You flinched at that—hard enough that Hermes caught it.

You stared at the cobblestones, your pulse pounding in your ears, the salt breeze suddenly feeling a little too sharp in your lungs. You twisted your fingers into the hem of your cloak. Pressed your teeth hard to the inside of your cheek.

You didn't trust yourself to speak.

Not yet.

Not without the grief—or the anger��slipping through.

And Hermes, to his rare credit... let you have the silence. Just for a little while.

Then, you finally let out a breath. More a scoff than anything—a crooked, tired thing that twisted up your mouth as you dragged a hand down your face.

You shook your head once, muttering under your breath. "Grudge," you repeated bitterly, tasting the word like it soured on your tongue. "Tell me about it."

Your mind drifted without permission—sliding back into the cracks you tried not to look at too long.

Aphrodite and her damn curse.

The one that clung to your bloodline like oil to skin.

The one that twisted love into something ugly, something hollow, until it wasn't love at all—just longing and loneliness sharpened into knives.

For years, it had shaped your family. Poisoned every hope. Starved every heart.

Until lately.

Until recently.

Until you finally clawed your way free of it.

But still—you knew the weight of old grudges better than most. You wore their scars, even if no one else could see them.

Hermes watched you a little longer. Long enough that the grin he normally wore thinned into something smaller.

More careful.

Then, voice quieter now—almost hesitant, like he didn't want to press too hard—he asked. "...Is it... something you want done?"

You blinked, the question sinking past your ribs before your mind could catch it.

He didn't mean the curse. He meant the soldiers. The wreckage Poseidon left you floating in. The lost voices still clawing at the back of your ears.

You turned your head slightly—enough to glance over your shoulder, back toward the harbor.

The ocean stretched out, glittering under the sun like it had never seen a corpse. Like it had never swallowed six hundred men and let their names rot at the bottom.

Your throat tightened.

Before you could even think about it, your hand lifted—moving on instinct—and pressed lightly against your chest. Right over your heart.

You remembered them.

The mourning soldiers. The way their voices wept without sound. How they crowded around you—not angry, not hateful—just... broken. How they told you their names. Their wives' names. Their children's names. Only to forget them the next breath. Only to tell you again.

You could still feel them. Still hear them.

The ghosts of their grief brushed your ribs, even now.

You swallowed hard. Your fingers curled tighter against the fabric over your heart.

But you didn't answer Hermes.

Not yet.

Because what would you even say?

Yes?

No?

I don't know?

It felt too big. Too cruel to hope for. Too cruel not to.

The words sat heavy against your ribs, pressing until you thought something might crack from the weight.

And then, barely louder than the lap of the sea against the shore, you whispered—broken, shaking, real. "If I could..." Your fingers dug slightly into your cloak, breath hitching against your teeth. "I would."

It hurt to say it. Like it cost you something. Like naming the want made it heavier, not lighter.

Hermes let the words settle—let them breathe.

And then, after a beat, he hummed low in his throat. "...Suppose," he mused, casual as if he were talking about picking fruit instead of bending fate, "I could pull a few strings."

You froze.

Your head whipped toward him so fast you nearly threw your neck out.

Your eyes were wide, stinging, your heart lurching up into your throat.

"You—what?!" you gasped, almost tripping over the words. "Are you—are you serious?"

Hermes just gave you a crooked little smirk, tilting his head in that maddening way he always did when he thought he was being clever. "When," he said, tapping two fingers lightly against your forehead, "have I ever lied to you?"

You opened your mouth—shut it again—then, before you could even think about it, you launched yourself at him. A tiny squeal escaped your mouth, embarrassing and helpless, as you threw your arms around his neck.

Hermes staggered just half a step back, but he caught you easily—laughing, real and surprised, as he wrapped his arms around your waist to steady you.

You clutched him like he was the only thing holding you to the ground. "Thank you," you gasped, your voice cracking against his shoulder. "Thank you, thank you—gods, thank you—"

You didn't even realize you were crying until your face pressed into the warm curve of his neck, your body trembling with the force of it.

You hid there, burying your face against his skin like you could tuck yourself out of sight, like maybe if you stayed small enough, stayed still enough, the hurt would slip away and leave only this—this warmth, this relief, this stupid, stupid hope.

Hermes' hands tightened a little around you—one rubbing firm, steady circles along your back, the other cradling the back of your head like he was afraid you'd fly apart if he let go.

He didn't tease. Didn't laugh. He just held you.

Letting you cry against him under the bright, endless sky.

For the ones who never got to come home.

For the ones who waited too long.

For the ones still waiting.

And for yourself.

You didn't know how long you stood there—pressed tight against him, fists curled into the loose folds of his tunic like you could anchor yourself there forever. The sea whispered somewhere behind you. The sun pressed warm into your back.

And still—you stayed.

Until finally, Hermes shifted.

Not to push you away.

But to tug you back just enough to see your face.

He tutted under his breath, shaking his head with a fake, exaggerated sigh. "Gods, you're dramatic," he teased softly, one hand sliding from your waist to cup your cheek.

His thumb brushed under your eye—catching a tear you hadn't even noticed had slipped loose.

"All this crying over some dead sailors?" he said, voice light but not cruel. "You act like I'm doing something hard." He grinned lopsidedly, tilting his head. "I'm just moving a few souls. No big deal."

You tried to scoff, but the sound wobbled pathetically in your throat.

Hermes only chuckled—lower, fonder.

And then—so gently you barely felt it—his thumb trailed downward, brushing the faint line of your scar.

The one tucked against your jaw.

The one that marked where a knife had once tried—and failed—to silence you forever.

He traced it slowly, like he was memorizing the shape of it.

Like he had every right to.

Like he already had.

Your breath caught without meaning to.

Hermes' smile faded just a little—softened into something quieter, sadder, more dangerous.

His eyes—normally all gold and sly and sharp—turned molten and warm, like honey left too long in the sun.

He looked at you like you were something sacred.

You blinked up at him, lashes damp, throat raw.

Your lip trembled slightly, and you hated it, hated how raw you felt, but Hermes didn't laugh. Didn't tease. He just held your face in his hands like he was afraid you'd vanish if he blinked.

Like maybe... maybe you were the only real thing he'd touched all day.

He leaned a little closer, grin going sly.

"Keep looking at me like that," he murmured, thumb still brushing slow over your skin, "and I swear—I'll hand you Olympus by sunrise if you asked."

You stared at him.

Wide-eyed. Disbelieving.

He said it so matter-of-fact, like he wasn't promising you something outrageous. Like it would be easy. Like it was already half-done.

Your throat bobbed, your fingers still clinging to the edge of his tunic.

And he just smiled at you—crooked and golden and too big for one god to hold.

"You want a palace?" he added, winking. "A river named after you? An entorague of nymphs to wait on you hand and foot? Say the word, darling. I'll forge a mountain in your honor before Apollo even wakes up for his morning ambrosia."

You let out a cracked, half-soggy laugh, shoving weakly at his shoulder.

Hermes only laughed again—full-bodied this time, sharp and bright as sun on seawater—and caught your wrist easily before you could pull it away.

He pressed your knuckles lightly against his chest.

Right where his heart would be.

And for one strange, quiet heartbeat—you almost thought you could feel it beating.

Steady. Warm. Real.

Another sniffle escaped you—pathetic and wet—and you scrunched your face up in annoyance at yourself.

"You're always so..." You huffed, cheeks burning. "...unserious."

Hermes just laughed.

Not the loud, teasing cackle he usually threw around like coins at a festival.

This one was low. Warm. Private. Like it was just for you.

He wiggled his brows dramatically, still cradling your cheek with one hand like you were made of spun glass. "Of course I am," he said, voice lilting with fake solemnity. "I'm the god of trickery, darling. It's practically a professional requirement."

You shook your head, pushing your palm into your eye, trying to scrub the tears away like they hadn't happened. "Of course you are," you muttered under your breath, voice hoarse but stubborn. "I forgot—gods don't really get it, huh? Stuff that's a big deal for mortals... probably means nothing to you."

Hermes tilted his head at you, his thumb still brushing faint little strokes over the curve of your scar like he hadn't realized he was doing it.

You went on anyway, not angry. Just... trying to explain. Trying to make him see it.

"You—you don't get it," you said, a small laugh slipping out, watery and sharp all at once. "For you, it's nothing. I get it. You move souls all the time. You see death every day. You can just... 'pull some strings.' Another errand to run between playing tricks and delivering prophecies. But for me—" you pressed your hand to your chest, half-punching your own ribs, "for me it's not just... paperwork!"

Your voice cracked a little, but you powered through it.

"You didn't see them," you said, almost shaking now, sadness turning into anger. "You didn't see the way they—" You broke off, grimacing. "They weren't angry. They weren't monsters. They were just... stuck. Forgotten. Whispering the same things over and over because they couldn't remember anything else... Like they didn't even know they were dead."

You breathed out a harsh sound that was half a laugh, half something sharp and broken.

Hermes blinked at you."Huh?" he said, voice small and almost stupidly confused.

You stared at him, not sure whether to laugh or scream. His face was scrunched up like you'd just started speaking another language.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I mean, you're sensitive, sure," he said carefully, like he wasn't sure if he was walking into a trap, "but why are you—what, did you get too empathetic while I wasn't looking? Crying over a bunch of random spirits you didn't even know? That's a little—" He made a tiny gesture. Like "come on."

You cut him off. "No,"you said sharply. "It's not just me being emotional."

Hermes cocked his head, frowning.

You sucked in a breath, words bubbling up before you could even filter them. "I was down there," you said fiercely.

He straightened a little at that, his grin slipping a bit.

"When the storm hit—when the ship almost went under—the sailors panicked," you started, jaw tightening. "There was no offering, so they wanted to sacrifice something—someone. Lady—" your voice wobbled, and you pushed through it— "Someone tried to grab Lady. They tried to take her. Said she wasn't a real person. I stopped them. Offered myself instead."

Hermes' face blanked completely.

No teasing. No sparkle in his eye. Just a slow, cold stillness settling over his features.

"I jumped," you said. "I hit the water. Sank. And then, instead of letting me die, he showed up. Poseidon,"you laughed under your breath, the sound bitter and brittle."All glowy and smug, acting like he was doing me a favor by not crushing the ship to dust." You flung your arms out. "And—AND THEN—he just grabbed my face and—"

You gagged a little on the memory.

"And he kissed me," you burst out, appalled all over again. "Or—no! Sorry! 'It wasn't a kiss,' he said," you mimicked in a high, mocking tone. "It was just him giving me a 'gift'—air. So generous. So considerate. Like that makes it better!"

Hermes' mouth twitched like he wasn't sure if he should laugh or commit murder.

You pointed at him, still ranting, voice shrill now. "I don't care what kind of ancient, majestic 'gift' he thought it was! He could've warned me! Or—I don't know—literally anything except ambush my face like that! Then he dragged me down to the bottom of the sea and dumped me in a godsforsaken graveyard with six hundred dead Ithacan soldiers for three days."

Hermes didn't move.

Didn't even breathe.

You pushed the heel of your palm into your brow, voice dropping into something more tired than angry now.

"I... listened to them," you said. "All of them. Their regrets. Their fears. Their last memories. Over and over and over until I couldn't tell where my thoughts ended... and theirs began."

You dropped your hand limply to your side.

"And now I'm here," you finished weakly, blinking at him. "Trying not to lose my mind every time I hear waves."

Hermes just stared at you for a long second, his arms slowly crossed over his chest.

"...Poseidon kissed you," he said flatly.

"It wasn't a kiss," you snapped immediately. "He called it a 'breathing boon' or whatever godly nonsense."

Hermes' brows lifted almost to his hairline. His voice dropped dangerously soft.

"Poseidon kissed you."

You buried your face in your hands with a groan, still too mortified to look at him.

"Not on purpose!" you mumbled into your palms. "It was survival. He said it was survival. I hate everything."

Hermes made a noise—something between a strangled laugh and a sound of pure homicidal disbelief.

You peeked at him through your fingers.

His face was a study in blank fury.

Like he'd just been informed the sky was falling and it was personal.

The silence stretched, thick and strange between you. The salty breeze tugged at your clothes. Somewhere behind you, a gull cried out—a long, lonely sound.

Then, finally, low and rough, he said, "I see."

No teasing. No jokes. Just two words, heavier than they had any right to be.

And just as fast as that dark look had settled on his face—it smoothed away. Like a ripple crossing a still pond.

Hermes smiled again. Brighter this time. Lighter.

Too light.

He gave a little hop—effortless—and the next thing you knew, he was floating a few inches off the ground, his winged sandals fluttering lazily under him. The feathers stirred the dust by your boots, kicked up little whorls of gold and gray in the sunlight.

You blinked up at him, caught off guard, and before you could flinch away, he reached down and ruffled your hair.

You squawked—actually squawked—trying to duck, but he was too fast. His fingers messed up the top of your head with infuriating precision, then smoothed it down again like you were some cranky little cat.

"There," he said, grinning wide enough to show teeth. "Better."

You shot him a look of pure betrayal.

Hermes just laughed and drifted back a step in the air, hands clasped lazily behind his head.

"Guess I better get a head start on those souls, huh?" he said, his voice still bright, but something... softer hiding underneath it. "Wouldn't want my favorite mortal thinking I'm all talk and no action."

He winked.

And before you could so much as shove him for the hair thing—or maybe hug him again, you weren't even sure which anymore—he spun midair, the wings on his sandals catching the sunlight, scattering it like shards of gold around him.

He was already pulling away, soaring higher, when your mind suddenly lurched back—Nico.

The ridiculous conversation earlier.

The favor.

The promise.

Your eyes snapped wide.

"WAIT!" you screeched, pure panic punching out of you.

Without thinking—pure stupid, desperate instinct—you leapt up, both arms stretching like you could physically drag the god of speed back down.

Somehow, miraculously, your fingers managed to snag his ankle mid-flight.

You grabbed tight around the leather strap of his sandal, your palm half-smacking against the side of his foot—and the second you did, your boots lifted clean off the ground.

Your eyes widened comically, the world tilting as your toes dangled uselessly over the cobblestones.

"Hermes—Hermes!!" you yelped, kicking wildly, the marketplace blurring a little around you.

The god jolted midair, twisting around like a cat yanked by the tail. His sandals fluttered in sharp little bursts as he wobbled, tilted—then cocked his head down at you.

He raised his leg experimentally.

You dangled there—arms clinging stubbornly to his ankle like a barnacle clamped to a ship—feet kicking uselessly above the ground.

Hermes peered at you with a mixture of surprise and wild amusement, one brow arching high.

"Well," he said cheerfully, head still tilted sideways as he studied you, "this is new."

"PUT ME DOWN!" you barked, voice half-mortified, half-terrified you were about to get launched into orbit.

Hermes just grinned wider, like this was the funniest thing he'd seen all month. One hand leisurely scratched at his jaw like he was pondering something very serious.

"Hmm," he mused aloud, voice maddeningly casual. "I dunno. You did grab me without asking. Might be grounds for kidnapping."

Your growl came low and dangerous from your throat, legs flailing harder.

But the bastard only snickered—and floated higher.

You yelped again, clutching tighter as the ground slipped even further away, your cloak flapping wildly around your knees.

In the back of your mind—deep behind the pure panic—you dimly wondered why no one was screaming or gawking.

The market was still bustling. Merchants shouted prices, kids weaved through baskets, and sailors laughed over cheap wine. Nobody even glanced at the sight of a mortal girl dangling from a god's foot like a sack of pears.

You barely managed to piece it together.

Hermes.

Of course.

Probably had some god-trick pulled over the mortals' eyes. Some ripple in the air that made your flailing look like nothing more than a flutter of fabric in the breeze—or maybe they didn't see you at all.

Gods, you were going to strangle him... if you survived.

"HER-MES!!" you screeched again, voice cracking halfway through like a dying gull.

The god just laughed—an actual full, unbothered cackle—and floated in lazy loops higher into the sun-warmed air.

You clung harder to his ankle, teeth gritted, your heart doing little suicidal somersaults in your chest.

Hermes, meanwhile, just peered down at you upside down, his hair flopping wildly in the breeze as he lazily twirled in midair.

"Alright, alright," he chuckled, voice bright and merciless. "What exactly are you doing down there, barnacle?"

You spluttered—actually spluttered—trying to scramble your thoughts and your pride back into some kind of order.

"I—I needed to tell you—!" you gasped, legs still kicking helplessly.

Hermes blinked owlishly. "Tell me what?"

You twisted your hands tighter around his ankle. "About the man!" you barked, feeling your face heat from the ridiculousness of all this.

Hermes just floated there like a lazy cloud. "You'll have to be a little more specific, darling," he teased. "I know a lot of men."

You groaned, nearly biting your tongue in frustration. "The inn! Your inn! The Quicktangle—or whatever it was called!" you barked, cheeks burning.

At that, something clicked.

Hermes' face lit up with recognition—and pure mischief.

He burst out laughing, the sound bright and absolutely unrepentant. "I forgot about him!" he crowed, clutching his stomach midair like he was watching the best play of his life.

Slowly—blessedly—he began lowering you back toward the cobbled ground. You could feel the ground pulling at your boots, the dizzy heat in your head slowly cooling as your body stopped swinging like a weathervane.

Hermes floated upside down beside you now, his curls dangling wildly toward the street, sandals fluttering in lazy kicks. His chin was practically at your shoulder level, upside down grin wide enough to split his face in two.

He tilted his head—er, his whole body—sideways and smirked.

"Soooo," he drawled, spinning once like a lazy top, "what does my loyal servant want, hmm?"

You panted, legs shaking, arms still trembling from clinging to him like a mortal lifeline.

You didn't answer right away.

Mostly because you were too busy glaring at him. Trying—and failing—to gather your thoughts back into a straight line instead of the chaotic, tangled mess he'd turned them into.

Finally, you gritted your teeth and barked out:

"He—" you panted, scowling harder, "—he just wanted me to, ugh, mention him next time I saw you. Said he's been a 'faithful and selfless steward of your sacred port' or whatever nonsense."

You waved a hand vaguely at the sky, rolling your eyes so hard it almost hurt.

Hermes' upside-down grin only grew.

But then—you paused, brows knitting.

"You know," you muttered, folding your arms, still glaring half-heartedly up at him, "why the Hades do you have a barkeep down here anyway? Shouldn't your servants be, I don't know—running temples? Giving blessings? Whispering secrets? Not...selling fish stew and warm beer to sailors?"

Hermes flipped himself upright midair, hovering cross-legged now like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He leaned in close, eyes glinting with that familiar gleam.

"You ever heard of a better way," he said, voice low and conspiratorial, "to hear every single secret of an island than by running the town's drunk tank?"

You blinked.

He grinned wider.

"Mortals," he said, shrugging grandly, "spill everything after two cups of wine and one good plate of food. Births. Deaths. Murders. Gold hoards. Secret love affairs. Half of the Trojan War rumors started in taverns, you know."

You stared.

He floated a little higher, tapping his temple smugly.

"Who needs temples when you have gossip?"

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

"...You are," you said flatly, "by far the pettiest god I have ever met."

Hermes threw his head back and roared with laughter, arms wide like he was soaking in the compliment. "And proud of it!"

You just stared at him, hands on your hips, heart still half-pounding from almost getting carried off like a very annoyed kite.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," you muttered, waving a hand through the air like clearing smoke. "Still doesn't explain why you've got Nico playing bartender. And calling you master," you added pointedly, narrowing your eyes. "What is this? Some weird god-servant thing? Is that how you get your kicks now?"

Hermes floated backward a few lazy paces, arms folded behind his head, sandals fluttering without a care. He snorted. "Gods, no," he said, rolling his eyes like you were the crazy one. "I'm no tyrant. Nico's here because he lost a bet."

You blinked once. Then again.

"A... bet," you repeated flatly.

Hermes grinned, all teeth. "A very dumb bet."

You just... stood there.

Waiting.

Hand on your hip. Brow arched so high it could've scraped the clouds.

"...Well?" you prompted dryly. "Aren't you going to tell me?"

Hermes hummed under his breath, tilting his head like he was considering it. Then he waved a lazy hand through the air, brushing the question away like smoke.

"Nah," he said airily. "Takes the fun out of his origin story."

You opened your mouth—ready to protest, demand, argue—anything—

But before you could even get a word out, "Soooo," Hermes said, voice syrupy and sweet, hands folding behind his back as he bobbed there beside you, "you want to deliver a message to dear Nico for me?"

You squinted suspiciously. "...What is it?"

Hermes hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin like he was crafting a grand strategy.

"Tell him," Hermes said, his voice dipping into a sing-song whisper, "that as a reward for his loyal service, I'm officially granting him his freedom."

You blinked, stunned.

Hermes grinned wider, sharp and delighted.

"But—" he added, lifting a finger like a magician revealing the final trick, "if he wants the title of official Messenger's Assistant—with all the travel perks, godly favor, and free drinks at all Hermes-blessed inns—he has to accept. Immediately. No take-backs."

"And... if he refuses?"

Hermes shrugged, almost too casual. "Then he remains exactly what he is now—my servant. Just... without the perks."

You blinked again.

Still processing.

Your mouth dropped open. "That's not freedom," you said, baffled.

"Sure it is," Hermes said cheerfully, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves. Your jaw dropped further when he added—oh so casually—"Freedom to pick which leash he wants."

Hermes floated down until he was level with you—still upside down—grinning like a cat about to push a vase off a windowsill.

He reached out lightly with one finger—and gently booped your chin to close your mouth.

"There," he said smugly. "That's better."

You stumbled back half a step, still trying to wrap your mind around the sheer pettiness of what you were being asked to deliver.

"Thank you, cutie~" he teased, voice lilting with laughter.

And before you could grab his tunic and demand more answers—or throttle him—Hermes gave a cheeky little salute with two fingers

Then he blew you a kiss—actually blew you a kiss, the gust of divine breeze sending your hair flying straight back.

And in the next blink, he was gone.

Up, up, up—vanishing into the blue sky like a mischievous star shooting itself home.

Leaving you there.

Alone.

Basket on your arm.

Hair a mess.

Brain completely fried.

And one very, very unfortunate message to deliver.

You stood there for a beat longer. "...I'm going to kill him," you finally muttered under your breath.

But you were smiling.

Gods help you, you were smiling.

You let out a long, slow exhale and bent down to start gathering the things you'd dropped—your basket, a few bruised figs, the little carved boat for Eben now slightly scuffed along the hull.

You brushed the dust off as best you could, cradling everything awkwardly in your arms.

The market buzzed on around you, oblivious. Voices floated on the breeze. Sunlight dappled across the crooked stones. Somewhere nearby, someone plucked a lyre, a slow, wandering melody curling through the air.

You shifted the basket onto your hip with a soft grunt, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Your fingers smelled faintly like figs and salt and the wax of a hundred sun-warmed stalls.

It was... peaceful, in a way.

The kind of peace that didn't scream. Didn't demand. It just was.

Maybe today hadn't gone the way you'd planned.

Maybe it never would.

But for now, at least—

You were here.

Alive.

Carrying a ridiculous god's message, sure, but also carrying pieces of a day that felt a little too golden to lose.

Small things. Simple things. A handful of bright feathers. A few polished stones. A bolt of blue cloth that caught the light like water.

Gifts for the people who felt like home.

You smiled faintly, your fingers brushing over each one.

And for the first time in a long while, the thought that flickered through your mind wasn't what if it all falls apart?

It was I can't wait to see their faces.

You smiled to yourself, small and crooked, and turned back toward the inn.

A/N: lolol not me being psychic, just got calle din for a shift 💔💔 since imma be doign night shift and will clonk out when i get home, here's the double update ❤️ also i love nico so much! you all are gonna love him too~ and its obvious my type are funny people that hide pains/joke alot cuz i swear i love making ocs like that hahaha don't worry i swear i have more personalities in stock the funny-in-pain type just hits fr 😔 btw forgot to mention, a lot of 'characters' you've seen me spend time describing etc, yet not see them again... it's mostly cuz those will be reccuring characters in the isekai book 👀 like i'm so excited y'all i'm already plotting things out, got the first few chappies in skeleton form/blurbs and pulling bits and stuff from here, so imma be rereading godly things to take notes on what i may include in the iseaki. is there any characters/places you guys would like seen in it??? lemme know, y'all know i gotta short attention span/janky ahh memory and need reminders sometimes 😭😭😩 #overlyconfidentwritertrynajugglemulitplethingswhensheknowsshessettingherselfupforfailure💔

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya suckerforblondies jolixtreesunn dreamtheatre woncloudie byzantiumhollow kisskisskys b4ts1e sarcasticbitchsblog trashcannotbealive idkanyonealrr

[nataliasquote]

One shot idea : baby yn and worried mama Nat waking up at every single little noise she makes and her singing her baby back to sleep

I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You

Double the trouble AU

Summary: Natasha lulls her restless daughter to sleep with simply a song

Warnings: none

wc: 704

note: this request was so cute! it’s a lot shorter than my usual oneshots, but I still love it

-⧗-

Cries echoed from the nursery and both moms shot awake, their blissful 50 minutes of sleep now disrupted. Wanda winced, the sound of her daughter sending panic through her body. But Natasha shook her head and swung her legs out from the warmth of the comforter, urging Wanda to stay in bed. The new mother didn’t need telling twice and she settled back against the covers, watching as Nat pulled on some long pyjama pants to fight off the cold.

The nursery door was open slightly and Natasha pushed it open, wiping the sleep from her eyes as the relentless cries hit her full force. They were coming from Y/n’s crib so she quickly checked on Isla, who was surprisingly fast asleep, her little arms raised above her head.

With a contented hum, Natasha moved back over to the other side of the room and scooped her wailing daughter into her arms, holding her tightly to her chest as she made her way downstairs. For a small baby, she sure was loud.

“Shh malyshka, please,” Natasha pleaded, bouncing her daughter against her chest. “What’s wrong my darling?”

Obviously the six week old in her arms wasn’t about to respond, so Natasha quickly heated up a bottle of milk and brought it up to her wrist to check the temperature, just like the books had told her to.

But Y/n didn’t care when the bottle was brought to her lips, she just turned her head and kept crying, her face bright red and screwed up. Natasha tried a couple more times, rubbing it along her lips almost in desperation. The stone floor of the kitchen was freezing her bare feet but she didn’t notice. Too hung up on trying to be a good mom.

“Ok, if you’re not hungry, did something spook you?” She was thinking aloud as she padded over the soft carpet to the couch, sinking down into the corner and holding Y/n close. “It’s ok, you’re safe, malyshka. Mama’s got you.”

With this new position, Y/n’s head was resting against Natasha’s chest, her warm cheek burning against her mother’s cool skin. Her cries subsided momentarily before they started up again and Natasha bit her lip.

“Is that what you like? Mama’s skin?” Y/n sniffled again and Natasha took that as a yes, pulling the neck of her tank top down just that little bit further so Y/n could nuzzle into her collarbones whilst she still stayed modest.

Natasha thought she’d finally hit the jackpot when Y/n settled down and her cries faded to whimpers. But when was she ever that lucky? Not even ten seconds had gone by before the piercing sound piped up again and a small part of her wanted to cry too.

“Malyshka,” she cooed, stroking the frown lines that had etched themselves on her daughter’s head. “You’re okay sweet girl, you’re okay.” She kept muttering words to her daughter and rocking her gently, stroking her back as they laid on the couch together.

Y/n finally stopped crying as Natasha spoke, and finally it all clicked.

“You like Mama’s voice, don’t you?” It made sense. Natasha’s voice was deep and it resonated in her chest, creating a comforting vibration for a restless baby. Y/n fussed but her eyes fluttered closed, finally content.

Natasha followed suit, unable to keep her eyes open any longer. But even in her sleepy state, she didn’t let her arms relax or Y/n slip. She was too paranoid for that.

A small whine escaped Y/n’s lips moments later and Natasha shot awake, looking down at her daughter with a frown. But she seemed content and Natasha allowed herself to relax against the cushions once more.

She traced her finger down the slope of her daughter’s nose, humming softly. The beginning of a song she’d heard on the radio earlier reverberated in her chest, soothing both mother and baby. She was an incredibly worried mom, the slightest noise or sign of discomfort from either of the twins setting alarm bells ringing in her head. But her babies were fine, they always would be.

“But I can’t help,” she sang softly, “falling in love with you.”

[yanderepuck]

WHOOOA. SMUT AFTER LIKE A MONTH AND A HALF????? You all know why I was quiet. I was having a good time. But now back to our regularly scheduled program.

Perfect timing too bc it's close to Leonardo's birthday, didn't even plan that. You go me.

"Stay there, cara mia," Leonardo lays you down on his bed and pulls the blanket up.

You whine and try kicking the blanket off "I don't wannaaaa," you whine.

"Stay in bed or you're going to get hurt," he pushes you further into the bed. You protest about it but do nothing about it.

You start to giggle after a few seconds of silence. You're drunk. So very drunk. You quickly drank Theo and Arthur under the table. Then you and Dazai thought it would be fun to keep doing shots.

The occasion? The monthly family dinner got a little wild. You kept having a drink without realizing how much you had and when you tried to stand up you nearly toppled over.

So Leonardo picked you up and carried you to his room to keep an eye on you. Not the best room since if you do manage to get out of the bed there is nowhere to walk.

He covers you with the blanket again and pushes your hair out of your face. "Now go to sleep," he kisses you and starts to walk over to his desk.

He turns the light off, replacing it with a lamp on his desk.

"I not tired," you roll around, the room spinning even more.

"You'll fall asleep if you lay there," he starts working on something. You lay there, rolling around in his bed whining. You completely forgot about the concept of being able to get off the bed.

You fiddle with your fingers, you can barely even feel it and you giggle to yourself.

"Leonardo," you have a sing song tone to your voice.

"Yes, cara mia?" He doesn't know what to expect to come out of your mouth. You've been saying gibberish.

You giggle again. "I'm horny. Come here," you don't even bother looking in his direction. For all you know you are. You can't tell which way is which.

He sighs. "No. You're drunk."

"Come ooooon. I'm horny."

"I'm not having sex with you while you're this drunk."

"It'sss fiiine. You're my boyfriend."

"I'm not doing that, cara mia."

You huff and move around in the bed some more. You're quiet for a little bit making Leonardo think you finally fell asleep.

"Do you think skunks feel bad?"

"Wha-" he looks over at you, a very confused look on his face.

"Do they have anxiety? I have anxiety. I'd like to hold a skunk."

"I believe they get nervous easily. That is why they can-"

He doesn't even get to finish before you're onto your next thing.

"I also want to hold aaaaaaa," it's like you forgot the word and just drag your last one along.

Leonardo raises an eyebrow. "Cara mia?"

"Aaaaa SEAL. Baby seal. So cute. So fluffy. I want to be fluffy. I want to be pet."

"Please go to sleep," he turns back to his desk, officially knowing that it's going to be a long night. You don't stop talking gibberish, but you're talking to yourself for the most part.

"Hey! You're a vampire!" You say it as if you just came to the realization.

"Yes, cara mia. I am," he sounds exhausted.

"Why can't you turn into a bat? That's laaame."

Leonardo sets his things down and rubs his face with his hands, letting out a loud groan.

He turns to look at you, and for once you are actually facing his direction.

"If I fuck you, will you stop talking?"

You gasp excitedly. "Yes!"

You immediately fumble to get your clothes off. Leonardo comes over to the bed, getting his shirt off along the way.

You don't even feel him get in the bed, but you do feel him roll you onto your back.

"You're going to have to get me hard first."

"Take that cock out and put it between my tits."

You smirk up at him, a lot more straightforward then when you're sober.

"Well if you're going to say it with that much confidence," he gets fully undressed before half sitting, half hovering over your body. Putting his cock in place you then squeeze either side of your boobs, trapping his cock in the middle.

You move your boobs, essentially rubbing them against his cock. After a few times you feel him getting harder. Making eye contact with him, you lick his tip.

Hearing a moan come from him encourages you to start sucking. You squeeze your boobs tighter against him, wanting to feel how hard he's gotten.

You lick up the precum coming from his cock and finally let your boobs go. "Now fuck meee," you whine, so desperate.

It also reminds him how drunk you are. Leonardo gets off of you and gets your pants and underwear off. You quickly spread your legs for him.

"Come ooon. Fuck me hard, daddy," you whine, already rocking your hips.

"Stay still," he holds your hips, and just his touch gets you to moan. He gets between your legs and his cock slides in with no resistance, getting you both to moan. He wasn't expecting you to be so slick.

He buries himself all the way in you, holding your hips to keep you still.

"Ungh.. ahh... daddy... Fuck mee," you try moving your hips. "Fuck me hard, please!" You're already begging.

"Just let me feel you for a moment," his cock twitches and you moan. Every little movement gets a noise from you.

He spreads your legs a little more before finally thrusting into you. Your moans started off loud.

The rougher he pounded into you the more the room spun, but something about that made it feel even better.

You just wanted it harder and harder but Leonardo was still worried about hurting you.

"Ahh! M-more!"

"You have all of my cock already."

"M-more!" You moaned, arching your back.

After thinking for a moment he realized what you meant. He lets your hips go and grabs your tits, squeezing them. Your moans managed to get even louder.

Your hands are dug into the sheets, twisting and pulling at them. Leonardo leans down and kisses you roughly. You tried to kiss back but it was way too sloppy.

He frees one of his hands, grabbing your jaw to keep your head still to kiss you more all you could do was moan in his mouth as his fingers pressed against your cheeks.

As his thrusts got rougher, his tongue slid into your mouth. He could still taste the alcohol on your tongue. His other hand held onto your shoulder, helping him be able to get faster.

Your moans were starting to turn into screams. This is exactly what you wanted though. He let go of your jaw and without thinking you grab his wrist and move his hand to your neck.

He didn't think twice to hold your neck, squeezing the sides. You gasp and your body starts squirming from the overstimulation. You feel so close.

You buck your hips up then quickly dig your nails into his arm. His cock is now hitting a new spot and it's just what you need.

"J-just like- ahh!" Your voice was so airy, you had to force the words out. You shut your eyes tightly and kept your hips in that position.

Leonardo managed to push a little deeper in you and started to thrust even harder, at this point thinking of his own pleasure.

Your nails dig in more and you yell as you cum, simply making your hole even more slick, making it even easier for him to pound into you.

Feeling you tighten, he lets go of your neck, grabbing your other shoulder, holding you in place. Your toes curl and you squirm even more.

Finally after a few more moments he thrust himself deep into you, letting his cum spill out. He moans loudly, and slowly loosens his grip on you.

He sits up once you let go of his arm, you lay there motionless, your chest heaving.

"Better?" He slides out, giving you a smirk.

"Mmm, that felt sooo gooood," you practically purr.

"Good. Now that means you can sleep," he helps you get your pants back on. He only buttons two of the buttons on your shirt, not worried about the rest.

As you get comfortable again he gets his own pants on. He covers you with the blanket.

"I'll come lay with you in a moment. Go to sleep."

You hum softly, content now, even if the room is still spinning and you still feel fuzzy.

Leonardo goes back over to his desk to quickly finish what he was on and to clean up.

You're laying in bed, quiet, by the sound of your breathing it sounds like you are already asleep.

"Leonardooo."

He jumps a little. "Yes, cara mia?"

"Is the Earth alive? Like does it feel things when we dig into it? Or what about fire?"

"Cara mia.."

"Does it hurt? Can it feel-"

"Didn't you agree to stay quiet?" he groans and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Did Adam and Eve have belly buttons?"

Leonardo just groans as you continue talking nonsense

~~

Tag list~

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @fang-and-feather @xalxtusxiao @namine-somebodies-nobody @ana-thedaydreamer @evil-quartett @ameyoruakiikemenseries @yrenesposts @tele86 @damekathearasi @lokis-laugh @candied-boys @breadmercury @aquagirl1978 @xenokiryu @nightghoul381 @vampiricpancake @lulu-the-smol-floof @faust-bite @floydsteeth

[beatrice-otter]

Fic: Faithfulness and Fortune

FFFX authors have revealed! I wrote a Persuasion AU wherein Anne's mother, Lady Elliot, did not die in childbirth when Anne was a teenager. This, then has changes when Anne meets Wentworth for the first time. The problem I had was twofold. One, the story kept trying to turn into Lady Elliot's story, rather than Anne and Wentworth's story. And two, I wanted to bring the Crofts in, both because my recip requested them and because it would be a nice counterpoint to Lady Elliot, but I couldn't think of anything for them to do besides one conversation towards the end. Title: Faithfulness and Fortune Author: Beatrice_Otter Fandom: Persuasion Characters: Anne Elliot/Fredrick Wentworth, Lady Elliot Written for: fiona15351 in Five Figure Fanworks Exchange 2024 Betaed by: olive2read Summary: In a world where Lady Elliot survived, Anne and Frederick's courtship goes a little differently.

AN: Thank you to the members of the Little Details and Age of Sail communities on Dreamwidth for help with Naval details. I also found a helpful paper on Academia.edu, "Golden Harvest: The British Naval Prize System, 1793-1815" by Daniel K. Benjamin.

The song Anne sings for the boys to dance to is Miss Cooper's Fancy. (This website has notations on how to dance it.)

On AO3. On Squidgeworld. On Dreamwidth. On Pillowfort.

***

The marriage between Sir Walter and Lady Elliott had been, at the time of its consummation, a love match; to be sure, both were from ancient families of wealth and rank, and it was an entirely suitable connection in which both sides equally bestowed honor and fortune upon the other. But that suitability had merely encouraged the match, not created it. They had become acquainted at a series of balls, while visiting in the same neighborhood; both were young, she was a noted beauty and he was remarkably handsome. He was active, and she was accomplished. That, combined with the encouragement of all others concerned, was enough to bring them to the wedding breakfast in the full flush of infatuation of which young people are capable.

The depths of his vanity and the limitations of his intellect had not been revealed over the course of their courtship, for balls and card parties and picnics do not encourage deep conversation. But Sir Walter's nature as a conceited, silly man could not be concealed once they were settled together at Kellynch Hall, and he would not have understood the need for such concealment in any case.

At first the new Lady Elliot had denied his deficiencies, clinging to her regard for him; then she had tried improving him, nurturing what capacities he had; when he remained a vain and stupid man despite her best efforts, she consoled herself that he was respectable and not inclined to cruelty, and turned to other projects for occupation and pleasure.

Although she had never produced an heir for Sir Walter, they had three daughters whom she loved and took great care in the raising of. The eldest, Elizabeth, though named for her mother, was in every way her father's daughter: the full measure of the Elliot looks, along with the full measure of the Elliot vanity. Lady Elliot encouraged her to form acquaintances outside their neighborhood and visit them often, to lessen Sir Walter's influence on her. The youngest, Mary, combined the sickliness which had plagued Lady Elliot for much of her adult life, with Sir Walter's need for attention and flattery. Lady Elliot attended to her when she was feeling poorly and supplied the genuine care and interest which might encourage Mary's confidence and better feelings.

Anne, the middle daughter, was Lady Elliot's decided favorite. Anne it was in whom she saw the best parts of herself; Anne had intelligence, good principles, and an unerring taste that was remarkable in a girl only lately removed from the schoolroom and presented to society. Anne was the one with whom deep conversation was a pleasure in its own right, quite separate from Lady Elliot's maternal feelings. And Anne blossomed under her mother's attentions.

Thus it was that when Anne formed an attachment to a naval officer visiting the area, a Captain Wentworth (but lately promoted to that august position), she confided it to her mother. But that worthy lady, whose own youthful romance had been formed through dancing and mutual flattery, saw little to excite her concern in sedate walks through the parsonage garden discussing music, and was merely glad her daughter had found in their new neighbor a friend who might match her intellect, for the brief time he would be visiting.

Thus it was that Captain Wentworth was invited to tea.

A very little questioning revealed that his family was respectable, but no one of note; his most illustrious connection was his sister's husband, lately promoted to the Admiralty.

"And as fine an admiral as ever flew a flag or commanded ships, if you'll pardon my partiality," Wentworth said over tea in the sitting room. "Croft knows his business, and trusts the captains under him to know theirs. The Navy is better for his elevation."

"I am glad to hear it," Anne said. "And I am sure that the Navy is also the better for your recent elevation."

At Lady Elliot's questioning glance, Wentworth said. "My own appointment as captain is recent—and why I am on shore now. I have not yet been granted a ship."

"I thought you were without a ship because of the recent peace?" Lady Elliot said.

"Yes," Wentworth said. "We are all in a holding pattern. But nobody expects it to last very long—Napoleon remains undefeated, and although things may have cooled considerably, there will be no lasting peace until Napoleon is gone."

"Really?" Lady Elliot asked. "I have heard that the French are tired of war."

Wentworth shrugged. "The French may be, although I have seen no evidence of it. But Napoleon certainly is not; his ambition has no limits and cannot be sated. No, the war will heat up again soon enough, and I'll have a ship and be back at sea." He took a sip of his tea.

"I suppose you are anxious to go?" Lady Elliot asked.

"I would of course be sorry to be deprived of the good company to be found in Somersetshire." Wentworth cast an admiring glance at Anne, and for a moment Lady Elliot thought there might be a danger. She was relieved by his next words. "I have been quite pleased to spend this time with my brother—we have not seen much of each other since I went to sea at the age of twelve. We write regularly, of course, but that is not the same."

"Of course," Lady Elliot said. She was on the point of asking what it had been like, as a twelve year old, to be sent away from his family into a wholly alien world, when Wentworth went on.

"But I do hope for a ship and a cruise, and fairly soon," he said. "You see, as a captain, I receive a larger share of the prize money for any ships we capture, and during wartime that can lead to a substantial sum, with any luck at all. And my luck has always been good."

"Surely your skill is good, as well," Anne said.

"Yes, yes, of course, or all the luck in the world cannot help a man," Wentworth cried. "But I have also seen it many times, that all the skill in the world will not help a man if he hasn't got luck to go with it. One needs both, to succeed in the Navy."

There followed a series of very entertaining stories, examples of the combination of luck and skill in his own career, or the lack of them in certain of his fellow officers.

"Oh!" said Anne, as Wentworth got up to take his leave, "I have told the captain that he may come use our library. I know I should have asked, but—"

"You are a reader, Captain?" Lady Elliot enquired, for of all the subjects touched upon that morning, books had not come up. She herself took great pleasure in literature, more than any others of her acquaintance. Both Anne and Lady Russell read widely, but less deeply than Lady Elliot was wont to.

"When I can be," Wentworth said. "There is always much time at sea to fill, but lieutenants and commanders are not paid very much, and have but a small share of the prize money. Even if they have funds, sea-quarters are cramped, with have little room to store things. Then when I am on land, I am at the mercy of whatever may be found in the local lending libraries, which usually have a good selection of novels and not much else. I am told you have a copy of The Life of Samuel Johnson?"

"We do indeed," Lady Elliot said. "You are very welcome to borrow it. I have tried to maintain the collection well enough, but they do not get as much use as I would like." Her husband cared only for one book in the library; Elizabeth and Mary were happy enough to read novels, but little else. Even Anne, for all her good qualities, was less of a reader than Lady Elliot herself was.

"Books are made to be read, Lady Elliot, and I shall be happy to do my share." Wentworth bowed, and if he had not already risen to leave, Lady Elliot would have asked after his favorite books.

It was good that nobody else had come to call that morning, because Wentworth's visit far exceeded the allotted half-hour. But it was a pleasant way to pass the time, and Lady Elliot went away from the meeting rather pleased with Anne's taste and perception.

***

Frederick had met Sir Walter and Lady Elliot before that afternoon at tea, of course; he had very properly made his bow when they had come to, or rather through, Monkford on an errand, some two weeks into his visit. Frederick and Edward had been walking, and the Elliot carriage had stopped; introductions had been made and greetings exchanged, before the Elliots had continued on their way.

The Elliots were rather too grand to have much social contact with the vicar even of their own parish, much less a neighboring town, though as their lands butted up against Monkford, and it was larger, with more in the way of shops than the village of Kellynch itself, they passed through with relative frequency. The Elliots attended public assemblies but seldom, and were not within the sphere of people Frederick's brother Edward dined with.

When there was parish business to be considered with the family, Edward attended upon them, or Lady Elliot sent Miss Anne Elliot to handle things, often accompanied by a manservant to carry whatever bit of charity was needed.

One such visit had been the occasion of his first true introduction to Miss Anne. She was a great favorite with the boys Edward was tutoring. He had come in from a walk through Monkford to find her humming "Miss Cooper's Fancy" and dancing with the boys. Although she was not a tall lady, still she was twice the size of her partner, and he required a great deal of correction, which she did with good humor.

Frederick watched, amused, and when they were finished the boys clamored for another.

"No," Miss Anne said, "for you are wanted back at your lessons, and I have calls to make!" Within an astonishingly short time the boys had been chivvied back to their classroom to practice their sums and their spelling under the watchful eye of the housemaid.

"You have them in such good order, Miss Anne," Frederick said. "I have had the governance of middies—that is, boys sent aboard ship as midshipmen—before, and I am in awe of your talents."

"Thank you, Captain Wentworth," Miss Anne said, "but I am sure it is because they do not see me very often. If I had the daily care of them, I doubt it would last." She called for her manservant, and he came, carrying a basket filled with apples and a bottle of medicine from the Kellynch stillroom.

"Where are you off to?" Frederick asked.

"The Lampkin farm," Miss Anne said, and Frederick nodded. Edward had been fretting about that family, and it was only proper that the Elliots take an interest in the sad situation.

"May I accompany you? The day is so beautiful, and it would be a shame to spend it inside," Frederick said. And, of course, Miss Anne's own beauty added to the splendor of the day. He knew the difference between their stations, but it was not so large as to make friendship impossible. In truth, he was somewhat bored; used to the constant busyness of shipboard life, he was having some trouble adjusting to a quiet country village where he had no particular responsibilities, save making pleasant conversation and occasionally helping his brother with his pupils.

"You are welcome to come," Miss Anne said, and they set off. "Have you been enjoying your stay in Monkford, Captain? It must be very dull, compared to your usual employment."

Though Frederick had just been thinking that himself, he hastened to assure her that Monkford was very pleasant and his brother's hospitality in no way lacking. There passed a pleasant half-hour as they walked, discussing various places each had been. Miss Anne's life was of course more circumscribed than Frederick's own, but she had been to London and Bath and Plymouth, and seen the great cathedral at Norwich. More notably, she had a discerning eye, and could speak intelligently of what she had seen, which in Frederick's experience was less common than merely being well-travelled.

At the Lampkin farm—squalid and run-down even beyond the limitations of rural poverty; clearly, there was something amiss in the family—Miss Anne entered with her manservant while Frederick waited outside.

"Oh!" she said when she emerged some while later. "I did not expect you to wait for us—from here, the way back to Kellynch lies distant from the path to Monkford; if you continue on, you will go far out of your way."

Frederick bowed. "I have no engagements this afternoon, nothing to draw me back to my brother's house before dinner," he said. "I should be loath to abandon such pleasant company, though if you wish for solitude you have only to say the word and I will depart."

"Oh!" cried Miss Anne, "I do not wish it, you are welcome to escort me home."

"Then I rely on you to guide me." Frederick offered his arm, and Miss Anne took it.

This proved to be the first of many such walks. Miss Anne was very busy in the parish, and Frederick was always happy to escort her.

***

Anne had always been the most sensible of her sisters, and now at the age of eighteen was beginning to understand more of the world around her—and the people—than she had when first she left the schoolroom. She had noticed how many endearments her father used for her mother, and how absently they were returned. Whatever affection her mother had felt, at two-and-twenty, had cooled in the intervening years into mere companionship. He still felt partiality for her (though more in appreciation of her beauty than of her character), but she returned it with polite indifference.

In novels, love was equally returned, and lasted for a lifetime; but such was not guaranteed in real life.

Neither Sir Walter nor Lady Elliot were unhappy; their lives were all that was comfortable and respectable. But the things that made it so were largely the result of their wealth and position, and her mother's intelligence and good character.

Anne was sensible of her own virtues; her mother and Lady Russell often praised her intelligence, her compassion, her reliability. As for Captain Wentworth, although her mind dwelt often on the breadth of his shoulders and the shape of his calves and the handsomeness of his face, he was a sensible, practical person. More than that, he was thoughtful and kind. Not just to her; she had seen him with the boys his brother tutored, and when old Mrs. Finbow whose mind was gone mistook him for her son, he had listened politely to her until her nephew collected her.

On their walks they spoke of many things: the Captain's travels, of course, and the sorts of poetry and novels which young people everywhere are fond of, but also the concerns of the people Anne was sent to bring aid to, her experiences at school, and even (though Anne spoke with discretion, and curbed her tongue to speak with as much generosity as possible) the trials incumbent on being the middle of three sisters.

Through it all, Captain Wentworth listened attentively and offered commentary that was not merely supportive, but thoughtful. There were many who would agree to whatever a Miss Elliot might say merely out of an abundance of deference, but few indeed were the people who entered into her concerns with both sympathy and insight. Aside from one or two friends at school, which relationships had necessarily dimmed with their leaving that establishment, only her mother and Lady Russell had ever given her that compliment.

She was conscious of how he looked at her; how he took every opportunity to offer her support. She had tried not to return his glances, nor blush under them, for she did not wish to lead him on; he had not the money to support a wife, and even if he had, she knew her father would scorn his low connections.

(And yet, he was a good officer, skillful and lucky, who had risen quickly on his own merits—if his rank might so increase, might not his fortune? She had not realized how much money a naval officer might make in prizes. Anne was not her father's favorite; scorn he might, but he would not exert himself to deny her. And her mother liked him.)

In a marriage to Captain Wentworth, she would have no need of the stratagems her mother employed to restrain her husband's follies. Even should either of their affections prove fickle, there could still be respect and a worthy companionship.

(But oh, she did not believe her affections would waver or falter.)

Anne told her mother much of what they discussed; but she did not tell her of the glances, or the lingering touch of his hand as he steadied her over the stiles between fields. Those things, she kept close, and considered them most deeply in the privacy of her heart.

***

Lady Elliot swept in through the grand front doors of Kellynch, handing her hat and coat to the footman. Sir Walter did not like to be disturbed by estate business—that was what he hired a steward for, as he said whenever an issue was set before him—but the question of what to do about the bridge over the creek was something that he should see to in person, for it materially affected the farms of several of their tenants. If he could not be moved to that effort, he should, at the very least, put in an appearance before Lady Elliot and Mr Mayberry made the decision. She was strategizing how to arrange it—perhaps combining it with a picnic or other pleasure outing?—when the footman cleared his throat.

"Captain Wentworth has come to call," he said. "He is in the library, but he asked particularly after your ladyship. Miss Anne went in to serve as hostess until your return."

"Oh?" The captain had been in and out of the library several times; he had not specifically asked for her company before this.

Curiosity piqued, Lady Elliot headed into the book room. It was, as everything else in Kellynch Hall, grand and well made. The carved wainscotting was testament to the wealth and taste of the Elliot of generations past who had commissioned it, and Lady Elliot had succeeded in convincing her husband that there was no need to have it redone in a more modern style. The books had been well chosen over many generations, and Lady Elliot knew their contents intimately. There were fewer new books than she would have liked, but given the constant difficulty of keeping her husband within their income, Lady Elliot's budget was not large.

Captain Wentworth was seated in a chair by the window, absorbed in a book. Anne was curled up opposite him with her own book, and they were reading in a companionable silence.

"Good afternoon, Captain Wentworth. What are you reading?"

Wentworth looked up. "Kant. I've read his Critique of Pure Reason, but not his second Critique. I'm not sure I agree with all his points, but he does argue them well."

"I should be pleased to discuss them," Lady Elliot said. That would be a treat, indeed.

"I am reading the first Critique now," Anne said. "So that I may join in."

"Indeed?" Lady Elliot had suggested it to her several times. Reading philosophy on one's own was all well and good, but it should be discussed to be really understood. Anne's interests had hitherto been more musical than literary or philosophical, despite Lady Elliot's best efforts. "I am happy to hear that, my dear. I do appreciate Kant's focus on what we can know versus what we cannot, and the framework with which he makes ethical arguments."

"I am certain it will be interesting," Wentworth said. "But I did have a purpose to requesting your ladyship's company. My brother was informed a few hours ago that one of your tenants—a man named Fairall, I believe—has fallen from a great height and been injured. My brother has gone to provide spiritual support, and I volunteered to bring the news to the hall."

"Thank you, Captain," Lady Elliot said. "The Fairall family has had more than its share of bad luck this last year. I shall see what can be done for them." As mistress of the house, it was her responsibility to dispense charity to their tenants in case of illness or injury or other need, but this might be grave enough to require some discussion with the steward. The string of accidents that had befallen that family were certainly enough to warrant a reduction in their rent this year. God knew her husband would not bother himself to attend to the matter.

She swept off to find Mr. Mayberry, leaving behind the quiet murmur of the young people in the library.

***

Frederick's daily walk had taken him, as it usually did these days, toward Kellynch. But despite the beauty of the day, he had not chanced to meet Miss Anne. He had lingered in the fields next to the coppice wood until he had been forced to return or risk missing his dinner, but either Miss Anne had not walked today, or she had walked somewhere else.

Despite the beauty of the day and the warm, rich scent of the damp fields, his spirits were low.

Edward was marking papers when he came in. The Monkford curacy was just adequate to support a single man, but Edward had thoughts for the future; although their family was good, there had been no money for either of them beyond what was necessary to establish them in their professions. Edward wished to do better by any future children he might have, and reasoned that those things which might supplement his income and allow for savings—such as running a small crammer's school—would be easier now than they would be later. On that happy day, much to be dreamed of, when Edward had a living of his own and thus the funds to support a wife, he would have already a start on the means with which to provide for their offspring.

Frederick had used to laugh at him for his prudence, and spent such prize monies as he had received, trusting that his luck and skill would ensure even greater bounties in the future. If Frederick had followed his brother's example, much might now be different, he reflected, throwing himself into a chair to wait until his brother was finished.

But no, it was foolish to dwell; the past could not be changed, and the share of the prize money a lieutenant received was not so great as to have afforded him much savings; not nearly enough for the daughter of a baronet.

(Though it would, at least, have been enough to prove that once he had gained his fortune, he would know how to manage it well enough to keep it.)

"You are very quiet, brother," Edward remarked at last.

"Merely admiring your industry, and not wishing to disturb it," Frederick assured him.

Edward set his pen down and looked up at Frederick. "You are not as cheerful as is your habit these days. You did not trip over your own two feet in front of a pretty lass, did you?"

Frederick huffed. The problem with having gone to sea before growing to full manhood, and maintaining his bond with his siblings mostly through letters, was that Edward would never quite believe he was no longer the callow stripling he had been the last time they had lived together. "I have not tripped even on a rolling deck in the middle of a storm since I was fifteen," he informed his brother.

Besides, if he were to trip in front of Miss Anne, she might laugh, and he would count that no evil.

"Then what?" Edward asked.

"I was too much in my own thoughts," Frederick said. "I had no company with whom to share them."

"Where did you walk today?"

"Along the coppice on this side of Kellynch," Frederick said. "I sometimes chance to meet Miss Anne along that path, but not today." He regretted the words as soon as he spoke them; Edward was a worthy man, but they were not quite close enough for Frederick to feel comfortable confiding the hopes which had begun to blossom in his heart. (If Sophia were here, he would have had no hesitation; she had always been a balm of sisterly affection and wisdom. But she and Croft were not in England this year.)

"You never seem to walk anywhere else but the direction of Kellynch these days," Edward said. "And you speak of Miss Anne Elliot often."

"Yes," Frederick said. "We both enjoy walking; we often chance to meet one another."

"Chance?" Edward's voice was carefully neutral.

"We have certainly never made plans to meet," Frederick said. An assignation settled ahead of time, without any chaperones, would be too much like a seduction. But merely knowing each other's habits and choosing his walks so as to increase the chances of their meeting was within the bounds of propriety.

"I am glad to hear it," Edward said. He opened his mouth, closed it, and looked at Frederick with furrowed brow. "I do hope you are being careful, Frederick, of both yourself and Miss Elliot. She is a very worthy young lady, and of course I hope only for the best for you. But …" he pressed his lips together.

"As a captain, I have rather more—and more lucrative—ways of earning a fortune than running a crammer's school out of my sitting room," Frederick pointed out. "I have not the means to provide for her yet, but that will change."

"Then you do mean to ask for her hand," Edward said, his frown deepening.

Frederick hesitated. "Most probably," he said. "I am still—I know how very great a thing I would be asking of her, for her father certainly would not approve of me unless I had the means to purchase an estate as great as Kellynch. I know that however great my ambitions and prospects, they can be as nothing compared to the other gentlemen she might marry. I would not wish to ask until I was entirely certain, of myself and her."

"That is wise," Edward said, though his troubled look did not lessen.

Frederick recalled that the Monkford living, like that of Kellynch, was under the control of the Elliots. The man who held the living did not live here; Frederick had never met him. But if Sir Walter wrote to him and asked him to dismiss Edward, there was every chance that he would obey—and then Edward would have nothing to live on unless he could find some other parish in need of a curate. Even if he kept his position, the master of Kellynch could make his life unpleasant, if he so chose. Frederick could leave (preferably with Anne) if Sir Walter became hostile; Edward could not, unless he found another priest willing to take him on as curate—or someone willing to give him a living of his own.

It did not precisely reconcile him to his brother's lack of support, but it did mean that Frederick could not blame him for his apprehension.

***

The society in that part of Somersetshire was not so blessed as to have many families that Sir Walter would consider worth the connection; for that, he went to Bath or London. But he was pleased to be first in the little society of Kellynch, and to give dinner parties at which all might marvel at his rank and his looks. And, true gentlemen being thin on the ground (at least according to Sir Walter's idea of what was meant by 'gentleman'), the ends of the table were sometimes filled by younger sons and professionals who came from respectable families and yet had no estates of their own.

Anne had not asked for Captain Wentworth and his brother to be invited, for she knew that their place would be far down from hers, and to sit at a table with him several places below, where they could not converse, would be no pleasure. Still, the invitation was sent in the normal course of things, and Anne could only hope that her distraction was not to evident to those around her.

Dinner parties at Kellynch were very predictable. Her father held forth on his opinions of the local society and recent events of note, often repeating the same observations he had made at the last dinner; her mother and Lady Russell indulged him but steered the conversation in more interesting directions. The other guests near the head of the table listened to Sir Walter with varying degrees of respect and attentiveness, and to Lady Elliot with real pleasure. Anne did not know what passed at the lower end of the table, but she observed the Wentworth brothers in conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd, her father's lawyer and man of business, and hoped the company was congenial.

***

Frederick had long been curious about Sir Walter; neither Anne nor her lady mother spoke much about him, and when they did, it was with the sort of care one takes with people one must give respect to, who do not perhaps deserve it. Frederick knew that sort of care, for he had served under a captain or two who had required it.

He was too far down the table to hear any of Sir Walter's conversation, but the conversation with the Shepherds was pleasant; Mrs. Shepherd enjoyed his stories of Naval life, and Mr. Shepherd had some good advice on how to better handle his funds.

After dinner, the ladies were led out and the port was brought in; that brought a marked change to the evening. All conversation ceased, for Sir Walter apparently liked to hold court. Frederick listened in growing bemusement as Sir Walter held forth on the weather, the expectations of one of the guests who might possibly inherit his aunt's fortunes in a few years, and a few recent events of note. In all such cases, Sir Walter's opinion—which was heartily assented to by those so blessed as to be seated near him, and listened to by all the rest with every show of attentiveness—was wholly formed by the rank and attractiveness of the people involved. Frederick's opinion of Mr. Shepherd's advice decreased by the way he nodded along with the rest.

Frederick busied himself with the port—it was an excellent vintage, truly worth the attention—and contemplated how such a prating coxcomb had ever been so fortunate as to win the hand of a lady of sense and intelligence such as Lady Elliot.

***

It was to be a musical evening; when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, Elizabeth and Anne took their turns exhibiting their accomplishments. (Mary, of course, being but fourteen, was not present; she had complained bitterly all day about being left out on account of her youth.) Elizabeth's playing was workable, but her voice was very good; thus it was that Anne was engaged in playing, either on her own or to accompany her sister, for most of the evening. She felt Frederick's gaze, but could not attend to him as she wished. She knew her responsibilities too well.

Towards the end of the evening she was given a reprieve; one of the other young ladies in attendance was to be given a chance to display herself. Anne went to get some tea, and Frederick came for a fresh cup himself; he managed to make it look merely coincidental, that they ended up sitting together a little out of the crowd, where the chances of their being overheard were low.

"You are an excellent musician," Frederick said, "though I wish we had heard you sing."

"Elizabeth's voice is better than mine," Anne said, "and truly, I would rather play than sing, particularly in a large gathering such as this." If she had had a better voice, or enjoyed singing more, her mother would have seen to it that she had every opportunity for display.

"Still. She is very … superior, your sister," Frederick said quietly. "It does her music no help."

Anne hummed, for she agreed but would not say so in public. "How did you like the dinner, Captain?"

"It was a pleasure and a privilege to eat it, Miss Anne," Frederick replied. "I have seldom had such exquisite food in all my life. The company was good; I understand Mr. Shepherd is your father's man of business?"

"Oh, yes," Anne said. "He has always been very reliable, and my father and mother are both very pleased with him."

"Your father's opinions are very … particular," Frederick said.

Anne blushed. "They are," she said.

"He and your mother seem … very different, in taste and perspective," Frederick said. "Was it an arrangement, between their families, that brought them to the altar?"

"No, though their families and friends were much in favor," Anne said, very quietly. "I do not believe it was seen to be so unequal a match then as it later became." That was perhaps more than she should have said in public, even in such a quiet corner as this, though the subject had been in her thoughts many times in the last several weeks.

"I am sure you are glad for your mother's conversation," Frederick said. "She is a very great lady, with much wit, and you take after her."

"Thank you," Anne said, more pleased with the compliment to her sense than she would have been with one for her beauty.

***

Lady Russell was Lady Elliot's dearest friend, and it was of great comfort to both women to be settled so closely together. But Lady Russell possessed a good deal more freedom than her friend, for her departed husband had left her with a respectable income, but without children or estate to manage. So it was that Lady Russell, who travelled regularly to visit friends and fashionable places, had been absent during the period in which the attachment between Anne and Captain Wentworth was formed. She returned thus when the two were in the full flush of their affection, and each beginning (separately) to think of the possibilities the future might bring, but before the subject had been broached aloud.

Had Lady Elliot not been present, and willing to invite Captain Wentworth to tea when Anne desired his presence, Lady Russell might not have noticed the attachment, for she was not as much in Anne's confidences as Lady Elliot. But under the circumstances, it took only one afternoon call to make her begin to be alarmed, as Captain Wentworth captivated the sitting room with tales of life at sea, and Anne listened with rapturous eyes; a second confirmed all her fears, as Anne recounted her latest walk through the countryside, and Captain Wentworth hung on her every word.

Lady Russel's thoughts proceeded cautiously and carefully; she herself had never been a mother, and Lady Elliot's intelligence and maternal feelings must be the surest guide. But a third visit with Captain Wentworth impressed upon her the very grave danger of Anne, whom she loved almost as a daughter, bestowing her hand on one unworthy of her, and she resolved to speak.

So it was that when Lady Elliot next came to call upon Lady Russel, that worthy lady raised all her concerns.

"I do not think it is as dire as all that," Lady Elliot said, much taken aback. She had been watching the young couple; but Lady Russell was a woman whose sense and judgment she much relied upon, and whose concerns could not be lightly dismissed. "Certainly, Anne has made no secret that he is a favorite of hers. But they are both such thoughtful people, and both know that he has neither the rank nor the fortune to court her at the present time."

"She is but nineteen," Lady Russell said, with some delicacy. "However much good sense she possesses, her knowledge of the world is deeply limited, and the natural excitement that must follow the attentions of a handsome man may overwhelm the judgment of even the most level-headed young lady, as you yourself know quite well."

This was as close to referencing the subject of Lady Elliot's own courtship as Lady Russell felt she could come. Whatever Lady Elliot's thoughts and feelings regarding her husband and the state of her marriage were, she had too much respect for her responsibilities and the marriage vow to complain of them even to her dearest friend. Lady Russell had seen for herself the cooling of Lady Elliot's affections and regard for her husband, but knew little more than could be guessed from the way Lady Elliot avoided the subject of her husband, when they were in intimate conversation.

Lady Elliot had married (she thought) for love, and regretted it. Lady Russell had married for rank and position, and had a perfectly cordial marriage. Being conscious of these things, Lady Russell thought affection more a danger to a young lady, than a joy and a guide. Especially if it might (as in this case) lead the young lady to bestow her hand on a man who could not be worth a tenth part of what she deserved.

"I should speak to her." Lady Elliot looked into her teacup.

"Speak to her, yes, but I beg you, make your thoughts known to him as well," Lady Russell said, leaning towards her friend. "He may be sensible of the difference between their stations and expectations, but it is not he who stands to lose or suffer from such an association."

"Captain Wentworth is a man of honor," Lady Elliot said. "He would by no means wish Anne to suffer any pains, and I am sure he has only the best of intentions."

"That may be so," said Lady Russell, who knew less of Wentworth's character than she did of his connections and fortune. "But he could only benefit from an alliance with the Elliots of Kellynch Hall, and from the possession of Anne's fortune; he has a very fine idea of his own worth and prospects, and I do not believe he judges such things as you or I would do. Better for both of them if they go on their way thinking fondly of the other as a warm friend, than for a proposal to be made and turned down … or, worse yet, accepted."

***

Lady Elliot did not wish to believe her friend's judgment correct, but upon contemplation she was forced to admit that Anne's affections were more deeply engaged than she had hitherto wished to believe. Anne had never deceived her; Lady Elliot, liking Wentworth and solicitous of Anne's happiness, had deceived herself.

It took a bit of coordination to arrange for Sir Walter, Elizabeth, and Mary to all be out of the house on the same day and unlikely to return early, but the situation was delicate enough that Lady Elliot thought it essential. The interview itself might only last a few minutes, but afterwards—after he had gone, Anne deserved to have privacy to grieve in.

Lady Elliot only hoped that Anne might allow her to comfort her.

She was waiting in her husband's study when the footman announced that Captain Wentworth had arrived.

"Please show him in here," she said, "and then ask Miss Anne to join us."

The footman bowed and retreated. Footsteps echoed in the hall, and the footman reappeared. "Captain Wentworth, my lady."

"Lady Elliot, this is—" Wentworth paused. He was a perceptive man. He took in the location, and her demeanor. From the furniture to the wallpaper to the paintings on the walls, the room dripped with all the wealth and status that Sir Walter could cram into it. It was clearly where the business of the estate and the baronetcy was conducted. The captain had never before been invited into it. And Lady Elliot's stiff posture said that this summons was for no kindly reason.

Wentworth's eyes narrowed. "You mean to separate us." His tone was flat, hard, and she thought it might be a glimpse of what he was like in one of those battles he had regaled them with.

"I am very sorry, and I blame myself for not seeing things more clearly before your affections—and hers—were fully engaged." It was the truth. But her sorrow at giving Anne such pain—at turning away a fine man who was worthy of her in every way except the practical—would not sway her from her duty.

"Mama?" Anne said, poking her head in. "Matthew said—" she fell silent at the tension.

"Come in, Anne," Lady Elliot said. She gestured at the chairs opposite her. "Please sit, Captain."

"I will not sit, when I am to be sent away like an errant schoolboy," Wentworth said. His voice was quiet enough that there was no fear of anyone overhearing, but the rigidity of his stance was marked.

"If you were an errant schoolboy, this would all be much easier," Lady Elliot said. "For then I do not think Anne would find you as compelling as she does. Nor would there be any prospect of your deserving her."

Anne blushed. "Mama—Mother, I am sure that Captain Wentworth is a very worthy man. You like him yourself, you have said as much."

"I do like him," Lady Elliot said. "In character and education he is very much the sort of man I might wish for you. But those are not the only qualities which must be considered." She held Anne's gaze until her daughter's eyes dropped. "I am so very sorry to have to pain you this way."

"But why must you pain her?" Wentworth cried. "The peace will not hold; it is breaking even now. I will be given a ship, and with any luck at all, as Captain the prize money I can expect to win will be substantial—enough for the daughter of a Viscount or even an Earl!"

"But luck is not guaranteed, Captain, you have said as much yourself," Lady Elliot said. "You have told us many stories of luck turning, for good and ill. If the war resumes, and if you are given a ship, and if your luck holds and if you make a fortune sufficient to keep my daughter—and any children she may have—in comfort, then things will be different. But it is a mother's duty to look after her child's interest. I cannot take that risk. And it is not good of you to ask Anne to take that risk."

"I am confident in Captain Wentworth's skill and good fortune," Anne said, coming forward to stand beside him. Wentworth's demeanor softened briefly as he turned to look at her. "We would not marry before he is secure in his ability to provide for a family."

"And what if that day never comes?" Lady Elliot said, disheartened to hear that marriage had indeed been considered, if only in Anne's head. "What if his gallantry in action leads to a wound—not enough to kill him, but serious enough to keep him from the sea? You would feel honor-bound to cleave unto him—to count your engagement as a promise to keep to him in sickness just as firmly as a marriage vow. But what kind of life would that be for you, or for him? What if there were children, how would you provide for them? Do you think your father would be generous? Or our cousin Mister Elliot, when he inherits?"

"There is small chance of that, Lady Elliot," Captain Wentworth said. "It is more likely that I should die from any such wound—even small injuries are hard to treat at sea. And then A—Miss Anne would be free." But his shoulders sagged. He knew the justice of her words.

Anne made a choked noise, and turned to the window, hiding her face.

"But it is not likely at all!" cried Captain Wentworth. "The chances of my death or injury are so small, Miss Anne, I wonder at your mother's paining you with their specter."

"I had much rather take the small pain of considering all possibilities now, before anything permanent has been said or done, than risk the great pain of seeing them come to pass," Lady Elliot said. "While we are considering possibilities, here is another: the war resumes, but does not last. Perhaps Napoleon will die in battle, or take a fever. Perhaps the Prussians will crush him; they are known for their prowess in battle, are they not? Whatever the reason, it ends for good before your skill and good fortune have the opportunity to reward you as you so richly deserve. What then? In peace time, would you get another ship—and if you did, without prizes would your income be enough to support a family?"

Lady Elliot already knew the answer, and although Anne had turned to the good Captain with hope in her eyes, it was to his credit that he was honest enough to give his head a sharp shake.

"I pray that everything will go as you wish; I pray you will have the good fortune you deserve." Lady Elliot shook her head. "But I cannot risk Anne's future on a gamble."

"But what if I do so wish," Anne cried. "What if I choose to take the chance? I do not believe things are as dire so you paint them; I do not believe we would be doomed to penury together. Given our mutual regard and the compatibility of our characters, we would be very happy together! Why must you insist on imagining only bad futures for the Captain and I?" Anne was by nature a quiet person, but the very great strength of her passion had overmastered her reserve.

"I do not imagine only bad futures," Lady Elliot said, as warmly as she could. She was not indifferent to her daughter's feelings, and was grieved by the necessity of injuring them in this way. "Indeed, you are right that, provided you had a sufficient income to live upon, you would probably be very happy together. I only insist that such an income is entirely theoretical at this time, and that until such time as it is a reality and not a hope, he cannot court you."

"Very well," said the Captain. "I disagree with you, but you have the right to make what decisions you will."

"And the duty," Lady Elliot said. "I take no pleasure in this; I know that I am causing pain to a person I dearly love, and to another I respect. But it is necessary."

"You believe it to be so," Wentworth said. He gave a brisk nod, and turned to Anne. But instead of bidding her good-bye, he stretched out his hand and settled her into one of the chairs, before flinging himself into another. "Then the question becomes: if courtship is not permitted, what is? And what will it take to prove you wrong?"

"I am afraid that for the time being, you must be separated," Lady Elliot said.

"Mama!" Anne cried. "You cannot be so unfeeling!"

"Indeed, Anne, I am giving your feelings deep weight," Lady Elliot said. "You will miss him dearly when he goes; will you miss him less if you continue to see him for weeks or months, if he is always in the neighborhood on the fringes of gatherings, reminding you of all the qualities in him you most prize?" She held Anne's gaze until Anne looked down. "If, one day, Captain Wentworth comes back with a fortune worthy of you, I will happily congratulate you both. But allowing your affection for him to increase would be cruel if such a day never comes."

"Will we be permitted to write?" Wentworth asked.

"Certainly not," Lady Elliot said. "It would be terribly improper. You may write to me, and I will pass on what messages and news are appropriate for Anne's ears."

From the look he gave her, she did not anticipate many such missives. "How exactly do you intend to separate us?" he said, after a pause.

Lady Elliot was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"I am visiting my brother," Captain Wentworth said. "You may deny me invitations to Kellynch Hall, but you cannot prevent me from attending Sunday services at whatever church I please; you cannot prevent the other families of the neighborhood from inviting me to dinners at which Anne might also be present. And if I left, and Anne were to choose to follow, you could not prevent that either."

Anne did not, quite, gasp, but she went very still.

Lady Elliot viewed them both with narrowed eyes. After a moment's thought, she declined to rise to his bait. "I think that you are both possessed of characters too generous and too honorable to do things in the havey-cavey way you are implying. Skulking is beneath you, Captain Wentworth; if extremity might press you to it, this is not that. Anne is in no danger, and you have every reason to hope that things will change for you both.

"No, you will leave, and we shall all pray that you receive a ship soon thereafter, and have all the opportunity and good fortune you deserve." Lady Elliot nodded. "And if all happens as it should, and your affections remain unchanged amid the busyness of your life at sea, then we shall see you again."

"And if Miss Elliot's feelings change, in that time?" Wentworth said. "If you succeed in convincing her of my unworthiness?

Lady Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Then better the both of you learn the shallowness of your attachment now, before any promises are made." It was not quite just, for the circumstances of an engaged woman, secure in the promise of her lover's faith and able to write to him of every hope and receive such in return, were quite different from those of a woman with neither. Yet it was true. And while it was certainly possible that her partiality was deceiving her, yet she thought that of the two, Anne would be the less likely to forget him than the reverse.

Young Anne might be, but there was a steadiness in her that Lady Elliot had learned to respect. Elizabeth and Mary both could rage or whine or plead, and like as not the next day would have forgotten whatever caused the upset. Anne was quieter, but her wishes were not so transient.

***

Anne could not quite understand what had happened. Her mother had always been her dearest friend, her staunchest supporter; that her mother should be now the cause of her pain was almost beyond her comprehension. It had happened so suddenly; she had not thought, before this hour, that her mother might so strongly disapprove of a match with Captain Wentworth. Her father's disdain, she had always known would come; but that her mother should feel the same was beyond her comprehending.

Captain Wentworth exchanged a few last words with Lady Elliot, and turned to Anne. A clasp of hands, a searing glance, and he was gone. Anne turned to watch him go; surely this must be a dream, it could not all have gone wrong so suddenly.

"Anne?" Her mother was before her, but Anne could not stand to look at her. She fixed her gaze on the ground, not in feminine submission but because she did not want to see the look on her mother's face. Would it be triumph? Pity? Anne could not bear it. She turned and walked away.

She scarcely knew where she went, but she found herself in the safety of her own bedchamber. Anne curled up on top of the coverlet, arms wrapped around her midsection, staring sightlessly across the room, until at last the tears came. She buried her face in the pillow to muffle the sounds.

Anne knew not how long she cried, but when she was done, she did not feel better, merely numb. She wondered what he was doing, miles away in the Monkford parsonage. Was he packing, even now, to leave? Surely he would not remain; surely the unpleasantness of the day's interview would drive him away. Or would he return and entreat her to leave with him? For one wild moment she considered it. One of her friends from school, Miss Hamilton, was lately married, and now lived in London; her husband had left for Germany on business. She would take Anne in, if she requested it; the banns could be read from there, and she and Frederick could be married a month from the day she arrived!

Good sense asserted itself before the thought was even fully formed. To leave her parents, sisters, friends; for to marry in such a way, barely better than going to Scotland, would stretch those ties to the breaking. To ignore her duty to her family was unthinkable. And even if she were willing to give up her family, what would she live on? Frederick had admitted that he did not presently have the funds to support a wife. Her father would not release her dowry, not if she married without his consent. Anne was not afraid of hard work, but she knew very well she did not have any understanding of what it would be like, or the work that would be required of the mistress of any such meagre establishment as Frederick could now form.

But oh, surely she could not give him up? To never see his dear face again, never walk companionably by his side! What if he did not come back? No days had ever passed so quickly as those she spent in his company; the colors of the summer had never seemed so bright. To go back to the dullness of life before he came was unthinkable, and yet it must be.

Her tears were not of such force as to be audible beyond the room, but they were steady as her mind and heart were not, as she imagined a thousand possible futures, but could not imagine any goodness in them.

***

Frederick stormed out of the house and down the lane, fists clenching. He kept reaching for his sword, only to realize he was not wearing it; he had never been so furious outside of a battle before.

A few of the groundskeepers stared at him, and he held his head high. He had no need for shame; he had behaved with every bit of honor and courtesy due to himself and Anne, and even Lady Elliot; he had nothing in his conduct or words to blush at. He might have less wealth, but he had the prospect of getting it, and he at least had never run close to exceeding his income as Anne worried her father might.

As for rank and breeding, the Elliot family were hardly an inducement to value those qualities, Anne excepted; he had fully ten times the wit and nerve and common decency of any of them. He would have said until this morning that Lady Elliot was a fine lady, but now! He could scarce abide the thought of her. Cruel, heartless—to have said all those things in front of Anne. If she had objected so, why wait this long?

Why, in the name of all that was holy, had she not warned Anne, at least? Anne had been every bit as shocked as he; perhaps moreso, to judge from the paleness of her face. He at least had been anticipating a caution, a check; he knew that he was not what she or anyone would have expected for a Miss Elliot of Kellynch. (But he had thought it would come from Sir Walter.) Anne loved her mother, and expected her to take her part in everything.

Frederick stopped and braced a hand on the boundary wall, head bowed. Anne's face swam before him, eyes wide with shock and glistening with tears unshed. And he had left her with the woman who had reduced her to that!

He kicked at the wall, and walked on.

He could have done nothing else, Frederick consoled himself. They were not in a novel, and Anne was in no danger. He would not bring scandal to her by an elopement; she was too respectful to consent to one in any case. No. He would make his fortune, and he would come back for her.

If the Elliots attempted to separate them then, he would know how to act.

***

When Frederick stormed into the house, Edward was in the sitting room with his pupils, reviewing their Latin, for which Frederick was grateful. The walk had not been sufficient time to compose himself, and he could not answer for his countenance. He charged up the staircase two steps at a time, and took care not to slam the door of his bedroom.

There was pen and paper on the table by the window; his eye fell upon it, and he was torn. He had no wish to ever see or speak or write to Lady Elliot, but even less did he wish to leave without telling Anne.

He sat in the wooden chair and contemplated the paper. His first intention had been to fling his things into his sea-trunk and leave by the next post chaise. But now, he was beginning to think better of it. He had friends enough in London that he could share lodgings with, and they were all Navy men, used to unexpected comings and goings. There was no need to write and beg an invitation. But it would be polite, and a hasty exit would only fan the flames of whatever gossip might spring from the day's interview.

Frederick might not care, and the sort of gossip the Kellynch servants might indulge in would not touch a Miss Elliot; but Edward would. He was only a curate. Any hint of scandal in his house would at the very least be uncomfortable and inconvenient for his work. Neither Frederick nor Anne had done anything wrong, but stories always grew in the telling, and the Elliots were always of interest to those who lived on or near their estate.

And besides, Frederick was no stripling, to be frighted off with a word. Lady Elliot might rule Kellynch, but she did not rule him; he would not end his visit to his brother early unless Edward or Anne asked it of him, or the Navy summoned him.

He would not seek her out; her mother had the right to deny a lover she found unsuitable, and even if she did not, he would not cause Anne pain in the scenes that must inevitably follow. But while Kellynch and Monkford were neighboring villages, they were not so close that they would meet, if he took his walks on the other side of Monkford, and she contained her charitable visits to Kellynch.

***

Anne's eyes were red and the handkerchief in her hand was sodden when a knock came at her door. There was nobody she wanted to talk to except the one person it could not be. "I have a headache," she called.

There was a pause, and she hoped whoever it was had gone away.

"Anne, my darling, I am sorry. May I come in?"

It was her mother. If she was not the least welcome member of the family, that was only because Anne's sisters and father would only notice her distress to find fault with it.

If Anne said no, her mother would go away, and leave Anne alone. But the conversation could not be put off indefinitely. She had never before been in conflict with her mother, not over something serious; she did not like the feeling, but could not see how it was to be gotten past.

"You may," Anne said, forcing her hands to stop twisting the handkerchief.

Lady Elliot slipped in, closed the door softly behind her, and made a sympathetic noise. She opened her arms and strode forward to embrace her daughter, as she had every time Anne had been in distress till now, but Anne drew back and Lady Elliot turned aside to sit in the chair by the window, instead.

"I truly am sorry, Anne," her mother said softly.

"Then why?" Anne said.

"Because it had to be done," Lady Elliot said. "Whatever he may be in time, he is not now a man who can take care of you and your children, nor is his profession reliable enough to ensure he will ever be."

"I know all the reasons you would separate us," Anne said. "I have never forgotten his lack of rank or fortune; I have always known that however you might like him as a man, you would prefer a better match for me. But why did you do it like this? Why allow us to grow fond and then break all hopes at once? I thought surely you must be willing to allow it, since you had not said aught before now. You didn't even let me say good-bye!" She wrapped her arms around her middle and turned her face away.

Lady Elliot sighed, and grieved for Anne's pain, and considered her words carefully. No argument she might make would heal Anne's heart, but the wrong words might deepen the rupture between them. "I deceived myself," Lady Elliot said. "This was so unlike my own courtship. I like him, and enjoy his company, and you do as well; I expected passion to form in ballrooms and card parties, not libraries and vicarages. I assured myself that you were both sensible, and there could be nothing serious between you, or that if there was I would see it immediately as distinct from friendship. There was nothing of friendship between your father and I, even when we were courting, you know."

That, at least, was not a surprise to Anne, and she nodded.

"So it was very much a shock to me to realize, one day, that there was a more serious depth of feeling between you," Lady Elliot went on. "That I was too late to separate you before it would cause pain. And yet, I could not allow things to go on. I am sorry; I should have been more vigilant."

"But even so, why did you not speak to me first?" Anne said.

"I did not wish to shirk my duty to you," Lady Elliot said. "The fault was mine; you are not wrong in preferring a man of his character, and we cannot any of us control our affections, only our response to them. This was hard, for you both, but now it is done. Would you have had me ask you to be the one to send him away?" Captain Wentworth had enough force of address that if they had been allowed a private conversation, in the full flush of the first shock, he might have been able to convince Anne to do something unwise.

Anne blanched. "No, I would not have wanted to be the one to break his heart." She bit her lip. "But Mama, I will never see him again!"

"That is not certain," Lady Elliot said. "I did not forbid all contact forever; if he wins the fortune he deserves, he will be quite welcome to come back. And may I say that he is more likely to do so now, when he can fully cast all the blame upon me, than if you were required to take part in sending him away."

"But what if he doesn't?" Anne said. "I shall never love again; there cannot be another such man in all the world."

Lady Elliot was much grieved at the depth of Anne's pain; she was normally a good, steady girl, and such outbursts spoke to how great her suffering was. "Anne, you are but nineteen," Lady Elliot said as gently as she could, "and have seen little of the world beyond this estate and your school. You hardly know enough gentlemen to make such a statement. At nineteen, I thought myself desperately in love with love with a man named Mister Gaulden, but he married someone else. I cried my eyes out and fell into a deep despair—and six months later, I had forgotten him. I do not say that this will be the case with you," she said, when Anne opened her mouth to object. "You and I are much alike, but we are not the same, nor are the circumstances. I only say that it may be so. You may find that your love is true and will last even in Captain Wentworth's absence … but you may find quite the opposite."

Anne did not look up, but her lips hardened. Whatever her mother's experiences might have been, surely this Mister Gaulden could not have been Wentworth's equal; and she could not now be consoled with the promise that her feelings might change at some uncertain time in the future. Lady Elliot sighed. "You may grieve as long as you feel you need to, and I shall not try to force my affections on you if you do not wish them. What do you wish for me to tell your father and sisters?"

"Nothing!" Anne said. Sir Walter and Elizabeth would be dismissive; Mary would be envious of the romance of it all, but not solicitous of Anne's pain.

"Very well, nothing it shall be," Lady Elliot said. "And I shall have your dinner sent up to your room, if you wish."

Anne nodded.

"I am so very sorry for your pain, Anne," Lady Elliot said, and took her leave.

***

The last month of Frederick's time in Monkford was less pleasant by far than the preceding ones; he busied himself with tutoring his brother's pupils, but that still left far too much time to brood over the loss of Anne. He had known she would not defy her mother, but his heart had still whispered that perhaps she might come to him after all.

He longed for Sophia's wisdom, but could not organize his thoughts well enough to put them to paper. She was always the cleverest of their family. Besides, by the time she received a letter and replied, he would be gone. Better to wait until he could see her in person.

As the August heat began to wane, he wrote to Lady Elliot, informing her that he would soon be gone and asking permission to formally take his leave of Anne.

The application was granted; it was a painful meeting. Lady Elliot sat doing needlework in the corner, while the young couple stood by the window opposite, voices low in the hopes of what privacy might be had. Anne was perfectly composed, but Frederick thought he had never seen her so pale, her cheeks almost bloodless. Frederick was still angry, and Anne shrank from the hard looks he gave her mother. She could not blame him for it; she understood; she had not, herself, forgiven the manner in which it had been done. But still she loved her mother, and acknowledged her mother's reasons for doing so, and did not wish to have this last meeting—perhaps for years, perhaps forever—so tainted.

Conscious of Lady Elliot's presence, they made no promises, nor spoke words of love. They did not touch even to shake hands. Yet still each took the other's words and treasured them when they parted.

***

Frederick had heard stories, from Admiral Croft and others, of captains who haunted the halls of the Admiralty for months or years, waiting for their first command. In wartime, things were different, especially for those who were known (as Frederick was) to be superior and aggressive ship-handlers. Scarce a week had passed before he was called in and given the news: the Asp was his, and she was in Plymouth dockyard, in need of minor repairs before she could put to sea, and then he was to take her to the West Indies.

Frederick would have preferred major repairs, for the Asp could use them; she was an old ship, and though she had been a fine sloop in her day, that day was long past, and it would have taken a great deal of work to restore her to the state he would have liked.

His fellow officers took him out to a public house for a drink to celebrate. None of his close friends were in London right now, nobody he could discuss his disappointment with, but that was all to the good. Frederick would rather dive into his naval business, anyway.

"You always did have the devil's own luck, Wentworth," Mason said. "Kennard and Platt have both been waiting almost a year. Only twenty-three, and a sloop of your own!"

Frederick, who had not felt lucky since Lady Elliot's dismissal, but knew full well the good fortune of his receiving a ship so soon, smiled and said nothing.

"I wouldn't want to be the one to have the sailing of that old thing all the way across the Atlantic," Spalding said.

"He'll be over before the winter squalls begin," Stroudly said.

"Just in time for the worst of hurricane season," Spalding said.

"You would give your eyeteeth for any ship, even the Asp," Mason said. "Hurricane season in the West Indies or no."

"And there'll be a chance at prizes," Mason said. "The French have few colonies in the New World, but the Spanish rule half of it—the richer half. Once the war starts up again in earnest, well. Our man Wentworth will be in a very pretty position."

From there the speculation turned to prize money, and how much a cranky old sloop like the Asp would be able to do in such good hunting waters as the West Indies. This Frederick was happy to join in on, but unlike his friends, he was calculating time, not money. How much of a fortune would he need before Lady Elliot would find him an acceptable suitor, and how quickly might he make such a fortune? The sorts of ships an old sloop like the Asp might capture would surely not be worth much—although a sloop could sometimes cut a merchantman or two out of a convoy, and that would be worth more. As captain, he would receive a quarter of the value of each ship he captured, but when one could only expect small ships worth less than £1,000 even with their cargo, even a captain's share would not add up very quickly—not to the kind of fortune he would need. But he might be lucky, and there was always the possibility of working together with other ships for better prey.

And with luck, he would not have the Asp forever; once a captain had a ship and could prove his mettle as a commander, it was easier to get a better one.

"I shall certainly have to hope my luck holds good," Frederick said. "What do you think, could I capture ten ships in a year?"

Stroudly whooped with laughter. "Why so modest, Wentworth? Why not try for twenty, or a hundred?"

"Or perhaps a Spanish treasure ship like the one Cochrane just took," Spalding said. "I'm sure a sloop would be up to it, with the right captain." He slapped Frederick on the back.

Frederick laughed. "Of course!" Surely Cochrane could not have taken all the luck—nor all the prizes. In a few years' time, surely he could present himself at Kellynch again, to claim the greatest prize—Anne's hand.

***

Frederick had not much time for contemplation, in the weeks that followed; once in Plymouth there was an enormous amount to do: overseeing the work being done on the ship, getting to know his new officers and establishing himself as a respected superior (difficult to do, when his first lieutenant was ten years his senior), and see to the training of his crew.

Then there was the voyage across the Atlantic, which was a source of some concern given that the Asp had been rated only good for service in home waters, and that only for a year or two.

Once at their new station, there was work to be done aplenty: messages to convey, scouting to be done, that sort of thing. He caught three French privateers one after the other, very poor ships, none carrying a full complement of guns; together with Cribb in the Kingfisher he took a pretty privateer that might well be bought by the Navy and taken into service. He took a Spanish polacca carrying cocoa, and then another elderly privateer.

Through it all, there was the constant struggle with the ship herself; when the wind blew fresh, water would enter at a rate of 20 inches per hour. Still, they kept her afloat, and brought her back to Plymouth the next fall with a French frigate in tow, not two days before a storm that would surely have done for them.

Frederick consulted his prize agent, and considered; it was more than he could have expected, but still far short of what he needed. He would be damned if he would let the Elliots turn him away a second time.

During the day, he permitted himself no doubts. His luck would hold; he would make his fortune; Anne would be waiting.

At night, though, he could not prevent doubts from creeping in. Anne had loved him, he was sure, only … it had been a year. She was young, with good features and a handsome figure; she was rich, and the daughter of a baronet. Beyond all that, she had an intelligent mind, a skill with conversation, a sweet temper, and an air of true gentility that few could match. He could scarce believe she had come to love him, and knew that to be at least as much luck as he had had with prize money.

Anne would be well-courted, he knew, for she would be in all ways an ideal wife, and her mother would surely see to it that she was introduced to many suitable men. She had loved Frederick, yes, but … did she love him still? If he went to Somersetshire, would he find her faithful, or married to another? She owed him nothing, had made no promises.

Sophie was in the Mediterranean; they had not spoken in person in five years, and he still could not imagine pouring his heart out in a letter.

***

Once Anne had recovered from the first flush of grief, Lady Elliot had begun a gentle campaign to raise her spirits. Anne went to visit friends, her own from school and the daughters of Lady Elliot's circle of acquaintance, and in the next year was hardly at Kellynch for more than eight weeks altogether. The change of scenery did her good; it was harder to be haunted by memories of Frederick in places he had never been. It was also easier to consider what her opinions were, separate from those her mother would like her to have, when she was travelling in circles other than her family.

She would have liked some employment, some distraction, greater than that of merely being a guest in someone else's home, and in seeking out such opportunities came to be valued as a very useful sort of girl, in addition to her other charms. This was a boon to her spirits; her mother and Lady Russell had always considered her to be so, but her father and elder sister's disregard had somehow always weighed more heavily.

If her mother had hoped that, in spending time with some of the best families in England, Anne might meet with a man of more suitable rank and fortune, and forget the charms of naval captains, she did not even hint it to her daughter; and if such was her hope, she was doomed to disappointment. Anne met a greater variety of gentlemen than she had ever known in the whole of her life, and though some were worthy of respect and admiration, not one could be found to measure up to Frederick Wentworth in her eyes.

She read the London Gazette, when she could get it, and her heart sang each time the Asp took a prize. He was alive; he was well; he was successful.

It was only at night, when she was alone, that she wondered if he might have met some pretty young lady in the West Indies, whose family might see a young naval captain in a better light than her own had. He had loved her, she knew he had, but … did he love her still? He owed her nothing, had made no promises.

There was no one she could speak to about him. Her mother's advice, she already knew, and Anne had seen the satisfaction under Lady Russell's solicitude, the first time they had met after Frederick had been sent away. As for Anne's friends, none of them knew Frederick, his kindness or his courage; they would find it romantic, and tragic, but would not understand the depth of her loss.

***

The next year was even busier for Frederick. His successes in the Asp earned him another ship almost immediately once the Plymouth dockyards condemned her as unsalvageable. The Laconia was in better shape, and larger; a frigate, with which he might really show his mettle. And he was made Post Captain, no longer merely master-and-commander of a vessel and Captain by courtesy. He was able to take Benwick, a good man and excellent sailor, as his first lieutenant, and in the spring they were sent to the Western Isles, along with his old friend Harville in the Tiger.

There they harried French and Spanish shipping, taking several good prizes in the process. They would not know the full total until the ships and their contents were sold, of course, which would take time; but still it cheered Frederick, and even more, it was good to see Harville's spirits rise. He had a wife already, and though Mrs. Harville was not so gently born as Anne, still Harville naturally wanted her and the children well-provided-for.

The time passed quickly; his fear that Anne might have forgotten him grew no less, but he had learned how to bear it, and he was well-suited to a life at sea.

That winter, when the storms closed in and they returned to port, he was happy to find the Crofts home in England at last.

They met for dinner at the house the Crofts had taken in Portsmouth, several steps up from the lodgings they had taken when he had merely been Captain Croft—but then, an admiral received an eighth of all the prizes taken by captains under their command. The elevation had not changed Croft a bit; still the same bluff, honest sailor he had always been, and the conversation was lively: every ship and crew they had commanded, every action fought, since last they saw each other, must be discussed in the minutest detail.

Sophie took her part in it, as usual; with almost as much experience aboard ship as her husband and brother, though in a different capacity, her observations were acute.

Including her observations of her brother. Frederick knew from experience that Croft could speak of naval matters for days altogether and never wish for another subject, and normally Frederick was quite willing to indulge him. But not tonight; and Sophia knew it.

After dinner, when her husband's initial appetite for Navy matters had been whetted, Sophie turned to her brother and asked what was bothering him.

Frederick laid the whole tangle at her feet. His affections, his hopes, his fears. Sophie listened attentively, but was not the first to speak when Frederick was finished.

"I don't see what you're waiting for," Croft said. "Your brother will know if she's married; if she hasn't, then go and take your shot. Sophie took me with five hundred and the promise of more. If five thousand isn't enough for Miss Elliot, she's not worthy of you."

"My dear, the situations are hardly comparable," Sophie protested. "I was the daughter of a country solicitor, orphaned, with no family but two younger brothers and an aunt who would be happy to see me settled in any respectable situation. None of us had any money, and eligible gentlemen were not beating a path to my door. I could marry to please myself, and I did." She made a face. "Not to mention, given the dreadful inflation, five hundred pounds was worth a great deal more, a decade ago."

"Your prospects weren't so bleak as all that," Croft said.

Sophie raised her eyebrows at him. "In any case, Miss Elliot has a family, a wealthy and important one, and they have a right to her consideration, and she is young enough that it is right and proper for her to take counsel of her elders. Even if she would take Frederick with nothing, better for all concerned that they wait until he has a creditable sum to his name, enough for the family to accept him. If she is as sensitive and responsible a girl as he has said, she will be much happier not to have to grieve her family."

Croft grumbled but did not gainsay this.

Sophia turned to Frederick. "That said, my dear brother, I do not think you should wait any longer. Particularly if you have not had any contact with her or her family in the meanwhile?"

Frederick nodded.

Sophia pursed her lips. "Then Miss Elliot must be in quite as much doubt over your affections, as you have been about hers."

"Do you think so?" Frederick asked, much struck. He had always known he was a loyal man, not given to changing his affections, once given. His fellow officers were always talking about women who had forgotten them when they were away at sea.

"You have been half-way across the world, in many different places, doing exciting things, and meeting many new people," Sophie pointed out. "Women live much quieter lives. There can't be many eligible men in a neighborhood like Kellynch. Even if she has left—to stay with friends, perhaps, or to live in London or Bath for a time—she will meet very few men who have not been approved by her family or chaperones, and the odds are good they will all be much alike … and very little like you. She will not have had much to distract her, but she will have had a great deal of time to contemplate the possibility of all the women you might have met."

"I have been at sea most of these two years," Frederick protested.

"But you come into port every few weeks—and every new port is a chance to meet a new girl who might steal your heart."

Frederick had never been prone to such assignations, but he knew many men who were, and while most such liaisons were short-lived, others persisted. He acknowledged the point with a bow.

"Five thousand pounds may not be what her family would wish for her," Sophie said, "but combined with your salary and the promise of future prizes it is a respectable sum, and enough to begin with."

"I doubt Lady Elliot would agree," Frederick said.

Sophie shrugged. "Then you may determine what sum would be acceptable to her … and Anne's opinion may be different from her mother's. Twenty-one is old enough to know her own mind. Perhaps she will marry you now. Perhaps her family will insist on a long engagement. Perhaps she has changed her mind. But either way things will be settled. I do not think either of you will be the better for more years of uncertainty."

***

Anne was at Kellynch when Lady Elliot received the letter, but though it came while they were all gathered at the breakfast table Anne did not see anything of note. Her mother maintained a wide correspondence, and her countenance did not change upon reading it. Moreover, Anne was distracted by Elizabeth's complaints that Anne had neglected her responsibilities and left all the work of assisting their mother to Elizabeth while Anne went about the country visiting friends.

"Elizabeth, that is not the case," Lady Elliot said. "When you were Anne's age, and Anne had just left school, she was of very great assistance to me while you travelled with friends. You can hardly begrudge her the same freedom now that you had then. And besides, practice at the responsibilities of a mistress of an estate can only help prepare you for your own future."

Elizabeth did not appeal to her father, for though he might commiserate with her upon the necessity of such employment, he had always left the management of his daughters to their mother, believing it properly a woman's role. She did not pout, for that was not attractive, but she did contemplate the very great virtue of an establishment of her own, where she could merely set the housekeeper to any task she did not wish, instead of abiding by her mother's insistence that she take an interest.

Anne, grateful that her mother had been there to defend her, did not notice that her mother left breakfast sooner than was her wont.

Anne was at the piano, beginning her practice with scales, when her mother found her. She finished the scale and turned to face her. "What is it, mama?"

"I have had a letter from Captain Wentworth."

Anne inhaled, deeply, and her eyes went wide. "What did he say?"

"He asked for permission to visit," Lady Elliot said. "He has made post-captain, and he is master of a ship called the Laconia—"

All of which Anne knew. "And?"

"He has almost five thousand pounds, and in a month or two will be sent out to the Mediterranean," her mother continued. "Before he goes, he would like to ask for your hand."

"What will you tell him?" Anne asked.

"What do you wish me to tell him?" Lady Elliot said. "I do not think five thousand pounds enough to marry on, even with his salary and the prospect of more prize money to come. But it is enough for an engagement, at least; and enough that I would not prevent you, if you were absolutely determined to have him now."

"I am, oh, I am!" Anne cried.

Lady Elliot nodded. "Then I will write him to tell him he may come."

Anne was in such a bewilderment of hope and joy and anxiety that she scarcely knew how she passed the rest of the day. Would he find her much altered? She was terribly conscious that she was thinner now than she had been at nineteen, and that Sir Walter thought she was beginning to lose her bloom; but, she reassured herself, Frederick was not even a tenth so preoccupied with appearance as her father.

She counted the days and hours until he was to arrive, and was so distracted by it that her father almost noticed something was the matter.

All her calculations were in vain, for he arrived on their doorstep just after breakfast on the day before he had said they might look for him. Anne was conscious only of her joy, but Lady Elliot saw in it a compliment to her daughter, and an ardor that had not dimmed, in the two years since they had parted. It reconciled her a bit more to the differences in their rank and fortune.

In a very little time, it was settled; each confessed the doubts and pains they had lived with since their parting, and reassured the other of the depths of their affections.

Frederick applied to Sir Walter for his consent, which was given; Sir Walter could hardly be pleased with the match, but Anne was not his favorite, and Captain Wentworth was surprisingly good-looking for a man who spent his life out in the elements. Lady Elliot's support was of material help, for Sir Walter was long used to leaving consequential matters in her hands to manage.

In the four weeks required for the calling of the banns, Frederick visited Kellynch almost every day, spending much time in the library or music room with Anne and Lady Elliot. He dined with them but three times, which suited everyone, for neither he nor Sir Walter found each other congenial company.

At last the appointed day came. The vicar at St. Thomas's in Kellynch was happy to allow his colleague from Monkford to perform the ceremony. The wedding breakfast befit that of an Elliot of Kellynch, and afterward Anne embraced her mother and sisters, curtseyed to her father, and floated into the carriage with such happiness that she scarcely touched the ground.

Like her dear sister in law, she learned easily to be quite as content aboard ship as on land, and settled quickly into the society of naval officers and their wives. Although it was neither so grand nor so well-bred as what she had been used to, it possessed all the comfort of affection and respect which is more necessary to happiness.

When settled together and beyond reach of anything to separate them, Anne and Frederick's affection grew in the depth that can only come from greater understanding of each other. Her pride in his capabilities grew when she could see them for herself; his respect for her intelligence and gentleness increased in full measure, as he watched her apply those qualities to the uncertain and eventful life of a naval captain's wife in time of war.

Anne was tenderness itself, and she had the full worth of it in Frederick's affection. His profession was all that could ever make her friends wish that tenderness less, the dread of the war all that could dim her sunshine. She gloried in being a sailor's wife, but she must pay the tax of quick alarm for belonging to that profession which is, if possible, more distinguished in its domestic virtues than in its national importance.

[lavender-long-stories]

Spoilers for Lavender Lights | Chapter 2 | Rated T

A sea of brightly colored pedals sat proudly on her dressing room table. A massive bouquet with no card. She wasn’t even the one performing. Who would send her flowers? Maybe it was just the studio trying to keep her happy. No. Not happy, compliant. “Can you take those away?”

“You don’t like them?” A staff member asked as they picked them up.

“My sister is allergic to baby’s breath,” Hinata explained. The bouquet disappeared, leaving her to watch her makeup stylist waddle around her in the mirror.

“Hinata, look up for me.” Kurenai directed. Hinata peered at the ceiling and felt the gentle touches of the thin makeup brush touching her bottom lid. “There we go, dear, makeup’s done.” She huffed as she set her brush down and rested her hand on her large baby bump. “She’s making it harder by the day.”

“Why don’t you sit down?” Hinata suggested.

“I still have your hair to finish. I’ll sit down when I am done.” Kurenai promised, waddling around the chair. “Has Neji found someone to replace me yet?” She set to work removing the curlers she had put in earlier.

“I don’t think so.” At least he hadn’t told her if he had yet. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Kurenai smiled at her in the mirror. “I wish I could stay, but I can’t keep traveling around with a newborn.”

Hinata nodded. “It’s going to be different without you.” Kurenai had been with her since she started performing. She was her rock on the hard days when Neji was just as stressed out as she was.

“Different isn’t always a bad thing.” Kurenai hummed as she picked up hair spray.

“Maybe.” Hinata scrolled on her phone through the wall of people excited for her sister's concert. She chose a few posts to send to her sister, who was getting ready in a separate dressing room. Some nuggets of encouragement to show her support.

She was proud of her.

The door burst open, making her flinch. Hanabi slammed the door behind her and put on a childish pout. “I hate this.” She waved her arms out, showing her outfit. “Why do I have to wear this? I look like a puffy cloud.”

Hinata tried to turn her head but couldn’t get out of the chair while Kurenai was working. Hanabi came up to the mirror and tried to adjust the dress, but there was no way she would be happy with it.

Hinata reached out and ran her thumb along the cream tulle of the outfit. She actually quite liked it. It was a cute dress, a bodysuit built out with mounds of skirts that would look magical shifting around on stage. She wished she had more costumes that were this magical and floaty. Hanabi was petite, and these outfits looked cute on her. On Hinata’s curves, it gave a completely different appeal. “You’re meant to be a doll.” She reminded her. “That’s the theme of the album.”

Hanabi whimpered and stamped her foot. “I like what you are wearing.”

Kurenai kept her mouth shut, but let herself make a face at Hinata in the mirror, raising her eyebrows. 

Hinata held her hand out to her sister, and Hanabi took it. “I know it's not what you want to wear, but it matches the music, and I am so proud of you. I can’t wait to see you perform. You’ve worked so hard.”

“I just wish you could sing these songs.” Hanabi tilted her head down, disappointed. 

Hinata shook her head and squeezed her hand. “They wouldn’t come out if you didn’t take them. I am grateful I get to see them up on stage.”

Hanabi nodded. “I will do my best.”

Hinata smiled. “Good girl. You should head back out. I am sure your manager is looking for you, and I have to finish getting my makeup done.”

Hanabi let out another whimper but listened, turning before she let herself out. “You do look cool.”

Kurenai shook her head. “It’s a shame, really. The little thing would be so cute tearing up some metal music.” She set down her brushes and came behind her to fiddle with her hair in the middle.

“I would like to see that.” Hinata hummed with a smile.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Kurenai finally sat down, sliding her hands over her baby bump and resting her head back comfortably. “You are going to have to make a lot of TV appearances, so she sees you all the time.”

Hinata handed her a bottle of water from the refreshment table. She thought it was a sweet sentiment, but she wasn’t sure she wanted the baby to learn who she was through her persona on stage.

Neji appeared with a face that bore bad news. He hesitated, turning back like he wasn’t looking for her before deciding to come to her with it since she already saw it on his face. “We are going to have to fly back to Suna next week. The new music producer wants to make changes.”

“After she just finished recording?” Kurenai tutted.

Neji rubbed his temple. “The head producer is asking for re-recordings.” He waved his hands. “Don’t worry about it now. I will get you there. Just focus on the music.”

Kurenai shook her head. “Maybe if he had shown up for any of the sessions, then he would have been able to say something before she finished.” Though her tone was meaner than Hinata thought it needed to be, but she would have to agree with her.

Tenten came up to them, huffing, frustrated. “Do any of you know where Hanabi is?” She glared at her phone. “I can find her, and she meant to be in a position in less than twenty minutes.”

Hinata picked up her phone to ensure she hadn’t missed any messages. “She came by my dressing room but left shortly after.”

“She was upset about her costume. I hope she doesn’t do anything stupid.” Tenten sighed. “I’ll keep looking for her.” She announced before storming off.

Kurenai looked over at Hinata. “Check the back door.”

Hinata put her lips together. She really hoped she was wrong.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Deidara loitered around backstage. It was getting close to show time. People were rushing around to get ready. He didn’t miss that. When doing industry work, shows were the most rewarding but also the most stressful.

He hadn't seen either of the Hyuga sisters yet, which he wasn’t really expecting to. The big talents didn’t tend to just hang around backstage before the show. They would have room for that, but that begged the question, what exactly did Sasori want him to do? He probably wouldn’t get a clear read on what they were like to work with if he was just a fan backstage.

Well, to be fair, he probably didn’t have to do anything. He could probably pick either girl at random. Neither of them was probably as bad as Sasori thought they would be.

But he might call him out on that. Maybe he should just ask around to the staff.

“Excuse me.” A very pregnant woman hummed as she passed him.

Deidara stepped out of her way. 

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Hinata sighed as she found the backstage door propped open, and she could already smell what she hoped wasn’t happening. She came out of the door, snatched the cigarette out of her Hanabi’s mouth, and dropped it on the concrete to stamp it out. “Smoking is going to ruin your voice.”

Hanabi didn’t give her an excuse or a complaint. She just puffed out the last of her smoke. “I am just trying to get rid of my nerves.”

“You can find a better way that isn’t going to hurt your health.” Hinata snapped at her. “And what if someone takes a picture of you back here.”

Hanabi’s face twisted as she looked away. “Maybe I could get rid of the soft baby doll image.”

“Not before father gets to you,” Hinata warned. “Tenten is looking for you. You need to get in position.”

Hanabi looked at her phone for the time, and her eyes widened as she rushed back inside.

Hinata sighed before bending down to pick up the cigarette to throw it away. She worried about her sometimes. 

Hanabi rushed past everyone in the hall, trying to get around them in her costume. 

“Careful,” Hinata said more to herself.

Just as she said it, Hanabi shoved past someone who was bent, looking into the mirror tile wall. He stumbled forward and caught himself on the wall, turning his head to shout. “Hey!”

Hinata rushed to him and bowed her head. “Sorry, she is late to the stage.”

“Seems like it, yeah.” The guy pulled himself upright, making almost every accessory on him jingle. A man not much taller than her looked like the kind who wore his whole personality, from the long hair to the makeup to the accessories. 

He hissed as he turned over his hand, revealing a tattoo on his palm and a gash from the glass tiles.

“I’m so sorry.” Hinata gasped and reached out for his hand. “Oh, that doesn’t look good.” She turned her head. “My stylist has a first aid kit. Hold on.” She whipped her head around to find her.

Lavender Lights

Pairing: Deidara x Hinata  Rating: T

Her image displayed confidence she didn’t have, sexuality she wasn’t comfortable with, and music she didn’t write. The unapologetic girl power persona was popular. It wasn’t who Hinata was, but it was who she was directed to be.

Tags: Romance | Angst and Fluff | Idol AU | Happy Ending

Image by Sixteen Miles Out

[nashvillehq]

name: Emilia Madden gender & pronouns: Cis Woman | She/Her age & date of birth: 30 years old | December 27th, 1993 neighborhood: Berry Hill time living in nashville: 30 years (whole life/native) occupation: Social Media Manager

BACKGROUND.

Emilia Madden isn’t one to dwell on the past,, so the topic of her biological parents isn’t really something she stays up at night thinking about. Adopted by the Madden family at the age of 1, after difficulties getting pregnant with their second child, they were straightforward with her about it from the beginning. Explaining that they tried talking about an open adoption with her biological parents, but they weren’t interested in being part of their child’s life. If they weren’t going to search for her, Emilia wasn’t going to search for them. Anyways, she liked her life. Raised in a nice home, in a nice neighborhood, she had a big brother that she got along with and two parents who supported all her interests. 

  Growing up, whenever one of her friends started a new activity, Emilia quickly followed. Soccer, softball, dance classes, gymnastics. She tried everything once, but nothing kept her focus. Until she joined choir in middle school. Suddenly, it felt like she found her calling. Except there was one issue. Emilia couldn’t sing worth a damn. Never stopped her from trying though. She sang in the car until people begged her to stop, she’d, without fail, audition for every school musical this year is my year I can feel it! And when she wasn’t cast, she’d sign up for the behind the scenes jobs. 

  She was a sophomore in high school when she was given the title of Marketing Director of the drama club so she would stop auditioning. Once again, Emilia’s calling fell right into her lap. She was organized - almost to a fault - and mix that with her creativity and drive, Emilia finally found a way to stay around the industry she loved with her particular skill set. Pretty soon she was running fundraisers for the school music department and even helping with some of the sporting events. She became a powerhouse and when she graduated college, she turned all that experience and a marketing degree into a social media management career. 

  Starting as an assistant for a big record label, Emilia climbed the ranks quickly, and after a few years, she was running accounts and creating social media personas for up and coming artists. Every day she was able to surround herself with music and be in the middle of all the excitement. It was her dream. She was so good at what she does, Emilia was invited on tour for one of her clients. It was the most exciting time of her life, following a big name on tour, taking photos both on stage and off, interviewing the rest of the crew for social media content. It was there, that the inevitable happened.

  Emilia is a hopeless romantic. Her bookshelves are full of romance novels, any bad day she had could be solved with a Nora Ephron film. When she fell in love, she fell in love hard. Which meant she was very familiar with heartbreak. But ever the optimist, she always told herself that next time would be different. 

  Which is what she told herself on tour, when she met the head of security, Nathan. Nathan was older. Almost ten years older. But when they weren't working, he was fun to hang out with. Pretty quickly, you couldn’t find one without the other, constantly hanging out, heading to bars on nights off. It didn’t take long for the relationship to turn romantic. And like usual, Emilia fell in love hard. Maybe this time would be different. 

  It wouldn’t. As tour came to an end, Nate promised to call her, to come see her, but after a few weeks of unanswered messages it’s become pretty clear that this time wasn’t different. So Emilia did what she does best. Throw herself into her work and fill silences with cheesy love songs. She’d bounce back, she always does. 

[eddiescorrodedcoffin86]

Home Sweet Home

Part 1: Ballistic

Part 6: Fight For Of Your Life

Masterlist

Vecna can sense you all getting closer, he decides to do something about it. For the sake of the series now is when Nancy and Robin are trying to interview Victor Creel.

Cheerleader!Harrington!Reader

Vecna. The Upside Down. Eddie being upset. We get goofy happy Eddie though. Briefly. In the beginning. For the sake of plot and then it’s pretty much just leading up to Vecna and then Vecna. If you guys don’t go listen to this damn SONG (the link to it is embedded in the title).

“What?!” Eddie shouted, looking up from his guitar with a mortified expression on his face. You’d just told him you didn’t recognize the song he was playing. “Home Sweet Home. Mötley crüe.” He raised his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly, watching in horror as you continued to shake your head. “Oh my-“ he shook his head and went over to his stereo, searching through his tapes before grabbing the right tape and putting it in, pressing play and jumping on his bed on his knees, playing air piano along with the song before holding his hand out to you as he started to sing along with Vincent.

“You know I'm a dreamer But my heart's of gold I had to run away high So I wouldn't come home low.” You couldn’t help smile as he sang, a blush tinting your cheeks, he had a surprisingly good voice, even if he was being dramatic.

“Just when things went right It doesn't mean they were always wrong Just take this song and you'll never feel left all alone Take me to your heart Feel me in your bones Just one more night And I'm coming off this long and winding road.” He grabbed your shoulders tight, but not enough to bruise, his throat doing the same thing as Vincent’s as he shook you around before letting go of you as you laughed, jumping off his bed and starting to play air guitar.

“I'm on my way I'm on my way Home sweet home Tonight, tonight I'm on my way I'm on my way Home sweet home.” As he sang he lowered to his knees before walking over to you, stretching his arms out to you as he walked towards you on his knees.

“You know that I've seen Too many romantic dreams,” he reached out, taking your hands in his gently as he sang. “Up in lights,” he suddenly stood, dropping your hands and grabbing your shoulders again, shaking you with the gravelyness of the word ‘lights’, leaning over you a bit as you laughed. “falling off the silver screen My heart's like an open book For the whole world to read Sometime nothing keeps me together at the seams.” He climbed onto the bed over you slowly as he sang, laying you back onto the bed before connecting your lips as the chorus started over. "I think this might be my new favorite song.” You whispered as you giggled, Eddie grinning widely. “Yeah? He whispered softly.” You smiled and nodded, his grin only widening before he started attacking your neck with kisses.

Your giggles echoed through your head as you tried to help them find the gate, following Dustin’s compass with Eddie’s hand gripped tightly in yours, making sure you didn’t trip on any rocks or anything like that. Which you were grateful for, because you almost did more than once. It was hard to hear much, with the countless of things you kept thinking about, mostly the last few days, the few days you’ve had with Eddie. His voice, the way his arms felt around you, the way his lips felt against yours, how soft his hair was, how good he was at guitar, how good of a singer he was.

As you looked at him, tears threatened to fill your eyes. He was so handsome, even now, stressed and scared for everyone around, he was absolutely gorgeous, and as soon as the thought passed through your head you felt guilty and you were looking away, focusing on the conversation at hand.

“I just.. dont think taking her into Vecna’s layer is the best of ideas. You know. Considering.” Steve was talking mostly to Max and Lucas, motioning back to you wildly. “I can hear you, Steve.” You scoffed lightly. “Steve... you know if she wants to do something bad enough she’ll do it, no matter what you or anyone else says.” Max shook her head. “Especially you.” She patted his arm.

“Look, Steve, I know you’re like.. jealous, or whatever.” Dustin sighed heavily. “But no one is trying to replace you, man.” Steve started to sputter at the accusation. “pssh! tsch! hah! Jealous? I don’t get jealous!”

“Oh, right.” Everyone, Eddie excluded, responded. “I don’t!” “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Stevie.” You laughed softly. “You know, we still haven’t had our discussion yet.” He pointed at you as you rolled your eyes. “Yes, yes. Don’t sneak boys in. How dare you sneak a boy in? Eddie Munson? I get it.” You grumbled softly, sticking your tongue out at him as he squinted and turned away from you.

“I’m just saying, maybe being so close to the gate isn’t smart for someone who’s literally under his curse.” Steve sighed heavily and shook his head a little. “Well he’s gonna get me either way, Steve! So, really, does it matter?” You clenched your jaw tightly, everyone walking in silence after that.

It was getting dark, and just as the compass started to spin around rapidly, notifying that you were reaching the gate, it stopped completely and Dustin frowned, starting to smack it. “What the..”

You heard that chime again, louder this time, and instead of the clock being off in the distance, it was right behind Dustin, and then, everything around you glitched and you were alone, in the Upside Down.

You looked around frantically, stepping away from the spot you were just standing in. “No...” You mumbled softly. “Eddie?! Steve?!” you shouted, looking around, maybe you were just crazy. “Guys?! Dustin! Max! Lucas!” You walked around a bolder but didnt see anyone, tears filling your eyes as you tried to control your breathing. “EDDIE?!”

“Y/N...” A gravelly voice growled somewhere in the woods. You spun around to try and locate it, shaking your head a little. “No.” You said firmly before running around the bolder and starting to run through the woods, weaving through the trees rather than running down the path.

“You can’t hide from me here, Y/N.” The voice echoed, you looked behind you, not seeing anything, but when you looked forward, you werent in the woods anymore.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Eddie had noticed your hand twitching in his grasp, and he looked at you, reaching around to wrap his arm around you, thinking you were cold, before he saw your eyes, bright blue and rolling back in your skull. “Y/N?” He stepped in front of you and grabbed your shoulders tightly. “No... guys!” He looked back at them quickly. “Guys!” They stopped their arguing at his shout and looked over, eyes widening as they rushed over, surrounding you and trying to shake you awake. “Nancy and Robin! get Nancy and Robin!” Steve shouted, shoving Dustin.

Dustin ran over to his backpack and got the walkie out, calling Nancy and Robin frantically, repeating “code red” over and over.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

You walked around what looked like the remnants of a house, floating around was that damn grandfather clock, and what looked like a door as you walked up a few steps, swallowing thickly.

“Have you asked yourself why, yet?” You spun around quickly and stumbled back as Vecna stepped towards you, breathing heavily. “I’ve noticed it’s the first thing they asked.” He motioned to Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick. Your eyes widened and your breathing picked up as you looked at them, your eyes settling on Chrissy, a small sob ripping through your throat before you looked at him again, tears flooding your vision. Your lips quivered as you blinked and formed your mouth to ask why, but he interrupted you. “Because I can.” He said, walking around you, as he stood behind you you spun around and faced him again, walking backwards. “I don’t... I don’t understand.” You whimpered softly.

Vecna tilted his head a little. “With me... there’ll be no loneliness, no being ignored.” He stepped close to you. “We will be one.” He explained. “You will be just as important as Chrissy.. or Fred... or Patrick.” When he started to walk towards you again you turned around and started running. Unfortunately, one of those damn vines grabbed your leg and pulled you back. “Shit! Fuck!” You tried to grab onto the ground before you were pulled back against a pillar, your head slamming back against it as you cried out, a vine wrapped around your ankles, and then your neck, before two grabbed and pulled your arms back, ripping a choked cry from your throat. Vecna smirked, his head tilting as he walked towards you slowly, his eyes running over your pinned form, his dark chuckle almost echoing as you tried to wiggle free.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Dustin screamed into the walkie for almost five minutes before Robin’s voice crackled over, asking what was going on. Dustin explained what was happening, glancing back at you and the others.

Steve had a firm grip on your shoulders while Eddie was frantically clapping his hands near your face, Max and Lucas freaking out close by. “Y/N! Hey! Come on, man, wake up!” Steve shouted, if you were conscious you would’ve complained about the pain in your neck.

“Uh-uh-uh C-Creel said something about hearing a song.. Nancy and I were thinking.. try playing her favorite song. I know it sounds weird but give it a try.” Dustin immediately ran over and grabbed your back off your shoulder roughly. “What’s her favorite song?” He asked Steve.

Steve opened and closed his mouth, looking at Dustin and then back to you. “What?! What, why?!” He asked, hands gripping your shoulders still.

“Because Robin said that if you- it’s too much to explain right now, what’s her favorite song?!” Dustin shouted. “I-I-I don’t know! It’s different like every week!” Steve responded.

Eddie immediately started to look frantically through your tapes. “This one! This one!” He shouted, taking it out of the case and giving it to Dustin, putting the headphones over your ears as Dustin put the tape in and hit play.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Your eyes were glued to Vecna as you taunted, his stare harsh and the roots around you only tightening with every vile word you spat to him. If you were gonna die this way, he was gonna get an earful. You’re not-“ you gasped for breath. “You’re not even here.” You grunted as the roots tightened. “Y-you’re attacking me in my head…” you gasped, coughing. “You don’t even have the..” you grunted. “The b..balls to do it in the open. C…can’t give anyone a fighting chance.”

You know I'm a dreamer

But my heart's of gold

I had to run away high

So I wouldn't come home low

Vecna tilted his head. “Oh I promise you, Y/N. I. Am. Real.” He lifted his hand and hovered it over your face as a hole opened up behind him. Your eyes shot over as his head turned toward the forming hole and you started to breathe heavily, Home Sweet Home echoing around you, as well as very distant screams of your name, Eddie was trying to hold you down, until your body levitated out of his hands, his fingertips grasping at your shoes.

Just when things went right

It doesn't mean they were always wrong

Just take this song and you'll never feel left all alone

Take me to your heart

Feel me in your bones

Just one more night

And I'm coming off this long and winding road

You closed your eyes tightly, breathing heavily as you looked back at the hole, trying to force yourself back into your body. “They can’t help you, Y/N.” Vecna turned his head to you. “There’s a reason you waited so long to tell them.”

“You want to be here.” Vecna tilted his head. “You. Belong.. here. With me. With us.” His head turned towards Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick’s bodies as you shook your head frantically. “No I don’t.” You mumbled softly.

“Yes. You do.” Vecna looked at you again. “No more being ignored.” He squinted at you as you scoffed. “No more anything.” You corrected. “Right? Cause I’ll be gone. Dead.” You clenched your jaw, the tears still streaming though you were pretty sure by now it was from anger, stress, not because you were scared, you knew this was coming, that eventually you’d be face to face with him, and although the sight of him made your stomach churn in unimaginable ways that you couldn’t even fathom a word for… all you felt.. was pure anger and disdain, your eyes falling briefly to Chrissy’s body, your fists curling before you looked at him again.

“Not gone. Up here.” Vecna pointed to his temple. ��Join me, Y/N. Join us.” He whispered as your eyes squeezed shut, the roots tightening around your throat as if he shared your disdain. “Bring purpose to your life. For once.”

As your head started to lean back images started flashing through your mind: Steve’s stupid knock, how annoyingly overprotective he was, the time he broke Jason’s nose when he found out he’d tried to touch you inappropriately; Dustin’s excited toothless grin, the way he rambled about D&D, even if you didn’t understand any of it, he’d explain it so you could understand what he meant; going shopping with Max, celebrating Lucas’ win with the two of them; and finally… Eddie: Eddie’s smile, his laugh, the way his hands felt on you, and then him stopping mid make-out to belt song lyrics.

I'm on my way

I'm on my way

Home sweet home

Tonight, tonight I'm on my way

I'm on my way

Home sweet home

Your eyes shot open and you looked at the hole before back at Vecna. “My life… has… purpose.” You grunted, face turning red as your airway was cut off. You managed to bite down into of the roots surrounding you, DISGUSTING by the way, and get your legs free, as he howled from the root being bitten you kicked him back with both feet and started running for the hole, glancing back at him as he caught his balance, glaring at you as his fist slowly curled.

You know that I've seen

Too many romantic dreams

Up in lights, falling off the silver screen

My heart's like an open book

For the whole world to read

Sometime nothing keeps me together at the seams

You looked towards the sky as debris started to fall, widening your eyes and running faster, having to run a little zigzag to avoid the debris falling around you as you watched the hole get closer, the thud of the debris falling causing you to slip and fall in the… whatever the hell was all over the ground, you didn’t wanna think about it. You ran on your hands and knees before getting stable on your feet and running faster, tears running down your face as you reached the hole, reaching out as if that would get you there sooner.

I'm on my way

I'm on my way

Home sweet home

Tonight, tonight I'm on my way

Just set me free

Home sweet home

Home sweet home

Home sweet home

Home sweet home

Your eyes shot open and you fell to the ground with a loud gasp, immediately falling into someone’s arms, one breath in told you it was Eddie. Frantic screams fell from your mouth as you grabbed onto Eddie tightly, turning into him as you trembled. “It’s okay. I got you.” Eddie’s voice was barely audible over the music, but it still rang through your head like a bell. “You’re safe.”

I'm on my way

I'm on my way

Home sweet home

Yeah, I'm on my way

Just set me free

Home sweet home

You’re safe

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Tag List:

@lunar-flwr @dahliarose3 @minimnmsdotcom @ranibewsprimskle @fabienne250503 @camcanyon @catherinnn @kaz120 @kiki51199 @slut-for-fictional-men-kms @babyali622 @nanamunath @giovannasgarden @munsonboyblog @meaganjm @kooksfor-life @ali-r3n @manitskatrina

[wanderinginksplot]

Clone Trooper Rambles

Part writing exercise, part diary, part daydream. Rambles are an idea of how life would be with clone troopers around. In these Rambles, clone troopers are unseen and unheard by other people, but they're always willing to share their opinions on my life and choices.

Warnings: This Ramble references a throat surgery I had a while ago. This is not current (Rambles rarely are), but it contains themes of frustration, recovery, and worry about future abilities. Please read with caution!

---

Ukulele

“Your voice sounds better,” Kix told me. 

He had been observing my recovery with interest, noting each benchmark no matter how small it was. It could very well have been irritating, but I appreciated it. Otherwise, I was worried I would slip into frustrated self-pity about the slow pace everything was taking.

“Thanks!” I thought about it for a moment. “It has been almost two months since the surgery, though.”

“They said up to six months until you can expect full use of your vocal cords,” Rex reminded. He had insisted on going to every post-operation appointment with me. By this point, he probably knew more about my recovery than I did.

“Yeah,” I agreed with a sigh. “I hope I last that long.”

I had managed to regain most of the tones I used to speak. As long as I didn’t try to do anything too dramatic with my voice, or speak too long or too loudly, I sounded almost normal. It was certainly better than the first few weeks after the operation. When I could first bring myself to speak, I sounded like Izzy Hands from Our Flag Means Death. 

“Why wouldn’t you last?” Waxer asked.

“It sounds stupid…” I hedged, only to be met with three steady stares. “I miss singing.”

“Have you… tried to sing?” It took a while for Kix to ask the question, but he seemed eager to hear the answer. Times like these, I was reminded how similar medical professionals and scientists were in their attitudes about unknown situations or variables.

I brought my mind back to the question. “Uh… No, actually. I just figured it wouldn’t work and I didn’t want to risk hurting something.”

“Now that you’re talking better, I think you should sing,” Waxer suggested. “Don’t try to scream something or belt out an opera, but give it a shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

The answer to that, of course, was that I would mess something up in my vocal cords and lose not only the ability to sing, but the ability to speak as well. Something told me that a worst-case method of thinking wouldn’t go over well in this particular crowd, so I just nodded. “I’ll probably try it on the way home.”

I did, in fact, end up singing on the way home. ‘Singing’ probably isn’t the right description, though. I tried to croak out the songs I loved and could always sing, but it wasn’t happening. No matter what note I was trying to sing, it would end up as one of the five notes I was able to speak in. Even trying to raise my voice to a notably high pitch only ended with a slight difference in tone.

It was odd. It hadn’t bothered me too badly that I couldn’t sing when it was background knowledge, but having it proven made me frustrated beyond reason. 

After a thankfully short journey home, I took a shower and played a podcast instead of music. There was no use in listening to music if I couldn’t sing along. Even after I had showered and eaten a snack - my typical mood-lightening routine - I still felt irritated and on edge.

When I stood and started for my room, the troopers looked concerned. "Everything okay?" 

I nodded with a slight, reassuring smile and kept walking. When I had sat comfortably on my bed, I pulled a small, light case onto the surface of my comforter. It unzipped easily and I took the slight weight of the ukulele into my hands.

It had been an impulse purchase from years before, a treat for restraining myself from buying an antique accordion at a flea market in my hometown. I had never intended to keep it so long, but the bright orange paint made me happy, as did the cheerful zing of the nylon strings.

Tuning it took only a moment. The correct notes were ingrained in my head after so long. Along with those notes were a few particular patterns for them. It was as easy as breathing to slip into the opening notes of the Beatles's Let It Be. 

The chords rose and fell under my fingers as I played the familiar melody. It was my favorite song to play when I needed a little thinking space, and my knowledge of the actual song had long faded into a vague idea of refrain and chorus.

I played and thought about my surgery and my fear, my voice and my frustration… about everything and nothing. When the suffocating worry in my chest had moved far enough away that I could pick through the tangle, I began to do just that but stopped after only a moment. 

I could play. I could breathe. I could live. That was enough for today. I would handle the rest of it when I decided it was important. That might never happen. That was fine.

With a sense of peace cooling my blood, I began to whistle along with the song plucked out with the tips of my fingers. Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be. Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

When I let the last bright notes fade away, I smiled at Rex. He had sat on my bed at some point, but I couldn't track exactly when. 

"Thought you didn't like that song?" he asked, voice low and careful. It seemed like he was worried he would break the calm spell if he spoke too loudly.

"I don't. Not to listen to, anyway. I think it's sad and wistful, and that isn't the kind of song I like to listen to." I began to pack away the small instrument as I spoke, glancing at Rex. "But on the ukulele? It's… I don't know how to describe it, but it's like the difference between a slow, mournful fade and the fond remembrance of a favorite time."

The crease between his brows didn't disappear. "And it makes you feel better?" 

I took a deep breath, feeling far lighter than I had when I started to play. "Yeah, it does."

---

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Author's Note - Like I said, this isn't a current situation, but it is very much real. For anyone who may be struggling with recovery of any kind right now, I wish you all the best! Please know that I'm rooting for you!

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @rexs-wife @sugarpuffsstuff @just-some-girl-92 @kimageddon @ladysongmaster @carodealmeida @nomercyforthewarrior @bitchylittleredhead @lackofhonor @buddee @salaminus @hikime @808tsuika @ladykatakuri @shawtyitsyou @bikerlorian @torchbearerkyle @frietiemeloen @justanothersadperson93 @leotatombs @rain-on-kamino @itsagrimm @dancingwiththeplanets @theclonesdeservebetter @murder-of-crows-1 @rosmariner @staycalmandhugaclone @marennial @eyecandyeoz @fordo-kixed-rex @lucyysthings @quietplaceinthestars @dinsverdika @xxxcertifiednerdxxx @coruscanticoffee @archangelsunited @samgraver

[doyouknowbtsswag]

Far From Home|Carl Grimes|

I sighed and looked ahead at the small gas station. My feet felt like they were gonna fall off by the amount of walking we had to do. Unfortunately we ran out of places to go for scavenging so we had to go way out of our way to get food from other places.

“You okay?” Carl’s voice interrupted my train of thought making me jump.

“Holy shit” I said gripping my gun out of instinct.

“Calm down it’s just me” He chuckled walking in front of me.

“I can see that” I replied starting to walk to the building.

“Hey wait up” He jogged next to me. “You can’t go in all by yourself”

“I survived perfectly fine before I met you”

“I know your capable I just care that’s all”

“I know” I gently flicked his hat smiling.

We made it to the entrance I gently knocked on the door pulling out my knife. We waited a minute as a couple walkers came to the entrance of the door. I nodded to Carl and we opened the doors letting the two walkers come out the door. We both stabbed one letting their bodies fall to the floor.

“Coast is clear” I said walking into the store carefully Carl following behind. “I cant believe your dad let us go by ourselves”

“It took some convincing” Carl shrugged.

“How?” I asked raising my eyebrow.

“That’s a secret” He grinned as we walked further in the store.

I rolled my eyes and took off my backpack holding it in my hand walking to a random shelf. I saw a few packs off candy and grinned.

“Guess what I found~” I said in a sing song voice.

“What?” Carl said peeping his head from the corner.

“Candy!” I smiled shaking the bags. “I think I win best find of the month”

“Nope that is not correct, I found a comic book last time I went out to collect stuff”

“That was about two and a half months ago actually” I said putting the candy in my bag.

“You keep count?” He said sounding concerned.

“I have nothing better to do” I said shrugging.

“Whatever it was still a good find but I actually just found water which is more important than candy” He said holding up some water bottles.

“Well you just happen to be in that aisle” I huffed moving farther into the store. “Plus we are supposed to be looking for edible things as well so it counts-“

“Yeah yeah” He said zipping up his backpack hoisting it around his shoulder turning the corner. “What’s wrong?”

“Carl we have to go”

“We can’t just leave with just candy and water we need more food”

“No Carl I have a bad feeling plus I found some granola bars so we should be fine so let’s go please” I begged grabbing his hand.

“I-fine, but we have to keep going and find some other place”

“That’s fine come on” I said dragging him out of the store.

Carl quickly followed confusion written on his face. When I stopped right in front of the doors.

“Are you-“

“Do you hear that?” I whispered.

“Hear what?”

“Shhh” I hushed him as small groaning could be heard coming closer.

“Shit” Carl said, it was his turn to drag me out the store. We looked over the road and saw Walkers, a lot of them shuffling closer and closer. “There’s too many to hide from”

“That’s the way we have to go back” I faltered.

“It’s gonna be okay we just have to get out of here” He said continuing to drag me along while running forward not looking back.

I frowned and ran a little faster to catch up to his speed. He had a tight grip on my hand as we ran further away from Alexandria. My legs hurt and I wanted to cry but I just paid attention to the road ahead. We kept running till we made it to a urban neighborhood and ran on a porch. Carl ran and tried to open the door only to get knocked down. If I wasn’t about to die I would’ve laughed.

“Let’s try it together” I said hurriedly the Walkers not giving up.

“Alright, one”

“Two” I got my weapon ready.

“Three!”

We both rammed ourselves into the door falling flat on our faces when the door did open. I groaned and forced myself to get up. Carl got up and ran to get something to block the door. I got up and helped him move a couch to the door.

“Quick cover the windows” I said closing the curtains as the foot steps could be heard from outside.

“Already started it” Carl replied.

“I’ll check the back for windows” I said walking deeper in the house.

“Be careful I’ll keep a look out”

“Got it” I saw a big glass door and blocked it off with the dining room table. I turned around and was faced with a tall male walker. I screamed and shot off the gun on accident instead of using my knife. Carl ran into the back and saw the dead Walker and my panicked face.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry” I repeated as the gunshot alerted the monsters outside where we were. The door was being pushed and the couch wasn’t going to hold it for long.

“It’s okay it’s okay, we can his up the attic” Carl said trying to keep calm dragging me to where the attic door is. Carl grabbed the string and pulled down the door with the foldable steps. The sounds of the couch screeching on the hardwood floor and the front door being slammed was the only thing on my mind. “Let’s go before we get killed, feel regret when we are safe”

I nodded and we both climbed up the steps just as the door slammed open. Carl quickly closed the ceiling door laying on his back. We were far from home and trapped.

“Calm down” Carl said grabbing me by my shoulders trying to make eye contact with me. “Listen we will get out of here”

“But we are dead Carl there is no way we can survive this we have no idea where the hell we are!” I sniffled a little tears running down my face from fear and guilt. “I’m sorry”

“We’ll figure this out together and get back home” Carl held my hand squeezing it. “We have that candy you grabbed and I’m sure there is something fun to do up here in one of these boxes”

“Carl your not taking this serious! They are gonna think we are dead!”

“There isn’t any point in sitting in guilt when there is nothing we can do to leave, plus it’s not your fault. It was a accident, a shitty one I’ll admit but there’s nothing we can do now but hope they leave soon”Carl let go of my hand and walked to the small window. “Plus at least I get to be trapped with you then someone else”

“Like who?” I asked a faint smile on my face as I walked next to him.

“Like Eugene, god he would be so boring to be stuck with” Carl chuckled. “Just think of it as a break, we’ve been through harsher times this is nothing.

“Your crazy Carl” I said sitting down as the sun set.

“Why is that?” He replied sitting next to me as I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“Because it’s such a bizarre comparison, a break from people when the dead is under our feet.”

“I meant alone time without anyone to bother, especially my dad” Carl said taking his hat off sighing. “We’ll be fine like we promised when we first met”

“Yeah, we will” I said closing my eyes. “I love you Carl”

“I love you too” Carl smiled kissing my head reaching into my bag to grab the pack of skittles.

“You better save some for me” I mumbled and he chuckled opening it.

“I wont eat it all I promise”

“Good” I grinned

———————————————————————

Well I’m not that proud of this one shot but it’s my first Carl one so I tried. I hope you liked it and remember you are perfect and worth it the way you are!

[subwaysurf45]

Code Star

Summary: a code word you and Bucky share is used; but it’s not in a good way.

Warning: panic attack, ripping out hair, addiction(little bit)

Words: 2030

Masterlist!

"Agent. Agent. Copy agent?" Friday spoke through the speakers in your room, it was louder than normal and also in the middle of the night which was the reason you woke up with a gasp.

"C-copy," you spat out, you typically sleep with your mouth open, so it gets dry when you first wake.

"Mr. Barns is calling you, he says it's 'code star'." Your stomach dropped, from all the adrenaline from waking up with a scare and the code, you sprinted down the hall way.

-

It was late and you were in the kitchen, you were trying to separate from your sleeping pills because during your last mission you couldn't sleep because you forgot them, you were addicted to them. So you needed to take a step back, learn to fall asleep on your own.

After asking around there was a tea Wanda recommended, it was lavender tea and she said it's the best with honey. You were currently steeping your bag and had honey beside you.

You took the soggy bag out and turned to the compost bin, after dropping it in and turned around you almost slipped because Bucky was right there.

Standing frozen. Dead face. Staring at you.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You yelled, not caring if it woke someone up, "what's wrong with you?" You realized you clutched at your heart through your sweater.

He was on the other side of the island, but he seemed to be leaning over a bit, he looked down at your steaming mug and then back at you.

"I- I was going to say hi and then I liked the smell of your tea and then when you turned I looked up at you, I-I didn't mean to freak you out, that must have been really scary, sorry." He looked down into the cup again. "What is it?" He finally asked.

You let your guard down a bit, "lavender," you never looked away from him, "and honey." That was the most he'd ever said to you since he showed up two months ago, he stayed in his room the first month.

"Nice," he nodded, his metal arm coming up and rubbing the back of his neck.

"There's extra water, I can make you one." You knew he was going to ask for your cup, but you really need to hit the sack.

His face lit up in the dark, "perfect!" He half smiled.

You poured the other cup and steeped the another bag, then added honey as well. You both stayed where you were on either side of the island.

"Why are you up?" He asked while blowing on the tea, his voice was below normal level.

"Just can't sleep," you sigh and look over to the common room, no one was there but you really didn't want to meet his eyes.

"I get that," he spoke awkwardly and looked over as well, thinking you were studying something.

"I'm-...I'm trying to get if sleeping pills my shit therapist prescribed for me," you looked back at him, his eye brows raised and his head tilted forty-five degrees.

"Sleeping pills?"

"Insomnia."

"Oh..." he spoke to himself and looked down again, his thumb rubbing the smooth ceramic handle of the blue mug that wasn't his. "I get nightmares." He stated blankly, but he didn't look up at his statement.

"Is it..." you tried to find the right words to not trigger him, "before the war, like America...or later on…in life...?" You danced around the question, Steve had told you mentioning certain things can get Bucky really freaked out.

"My mind," he laughed sarcastically, "it likes to mix the two," he pulled one side of his mouth tight.

"Double-whammy," you whispered, then froze at the sound of a giggle, Bucky chuckled. "What?"

"No-I-I just...I get that reference," he seemed proud, his face seemed to fall quickly though, circling back, "my arm is weird, it's like my human arm but the star," he points to the red, "is like sewn in, I don't know what it means but..." he trialed off.

"Well, if you need help, just call a code star, I'll come to your room and bring you some tea, how about that?" You smile.

"What? Like a friend?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Okay," he smiled and nodded, "alright," his fingers drummed on the counter, "I'm gonna take this back to my room, but I'll remember that." He nodded and left, but caught himself at the corner to the rooms, "hey, agent," he spoke normal, you looked, "if you're gonna be my friend, don't ask 'what's wrong with me?', because trust me...I’ll talk you to your grave." He smirked.

“Noted, Sargent.” You’ve never seen him joke with you before, it felt comforting.

-

'Code star' had never been used for its newer purpose before, as the friendship and relationship grew 'code star' became 'code lavender', it happened after Bucky called 'code star' once while he was having a panic attack, you took so long to make the tea he was passed out by the time you showed up.

'Code lavender': make a tea, meet in the kitchen.

'Code star': panic attack, drop everything a come.

You sprinted down the hallway to the very last room, you could hear laboured breathing as you got closer. Typically you'd knock softly and come in quietly, not this time.

You whipped open the door to see Bucky staring slightly down on the edge of his bed, he was rocking back and forth as his fingers ripped and pulled on his long hair. His pupils blew wide and his lips curled causing his teeth to flash, he didn't even look up at you.

A loud bang from your knees hitting the hardwood didn't phase him either, you tired to duck down to meet his line of eye sight but you couldn't get down enough.

"Bucky, look at me!" You pulled his hands out of his hair, as you made him drop them to his side you found a pile of hair outside his thighs, "oh god," you whispered, your hand unlacing with his to pick up the locks, the free hand of his went straight back to tugging. "Don't do that, don't do that." You hushed and took it out again, a tuff came with it. "Bucky, look at me," you said calmer now, you needed to be the example. "Bucky, nod if you can hear me."

He didn't nod, his eyes stayed locked on your chest. They didn't move there, he was already looking there, it was like he was looking through you.

You kept his hands clumped in your right hand and your left hand began to trace around his face, starting at his cheeks that were dry, little circles led to cross the bridge the nose a couple times. You also started humming, a song you heard Bucky and Steve sing once while drunk and having fun.

His eye brows seemed to raise for a second at the tune, but he quickly fell back into his short shallow breathes. You kept going, your finger gently tracing his cleft chin, it was always something you pinched when joking around with him.

"Wake up, Bucky," you whispered after finishing the song, you started the tune again. His breathing seemed to slow a little and his almost black eyes moved around a bit, "there you go," you cupped his cheek, now just shifting your thumb back and forth. You didn't know if he'd start to pull his hair out again so you kept both the metal and flesh hand covered with your left.

His breathing went to normal, his rib cage expanding wide as he took voluntary breathes. His eyes were shut tight but you felt him lean into your hand that was still holding his cheek.

"Are you with me?" You asked softly, he leaned into your hand again, his hand slowly made it up to his face and he placed his hand over yours, gently guiding it down to his lips; his kisses to your palm were long and filled with their own language.

"I'm here," his voice cut out and became a breath, but you heard him. His eyes looked up before his head moved, he locked eyes with you and something changed.

It was like he was seeing you for the first time, eyes a little wide and confused; but knowing at the same time. They became misty the more he looked, he was never one to cry so he dropped his head to cover the tears.

"It's okay," you hushed, he dropped your hand and leaned forward, basically throwing his entire body weight onto you. You fell back to the floor and he cried in your chest, you saw some of his hair fall with him. "Let it out," your arms wrapped around him and began to rub all along his back, huge, gentle, soothing rubs.

"I-I killed you all," his voice sounded like a dog panting from his short breathes that came when he talked, "I- couldn't s-stop," his 's' slithered like snakes as he tries get sufficient air and talk.

"We're all here, just a dream." It was the same mantra, "we're all here, you're safe, it was a nightmare, you're out of it now. There you go, big breathes, you're doing great, you're a pro at this, keep breathing." You let the broken record play, he seemed to get smaller at every praise.

He sat up and leaned against the bed, Bucky pulled his sleeve around his fist to hold it tight. When he wiped his face it was aggressive, like he was mad at himself. He just stared at you like he always did, you were alway involved in his dreams so he needed to look at you to stay grounded.

"Sorry," his 's' still slurred, "I-...I'm sorry," he wanted to say something else, you could hear it in his tone. His head dropped, Bucky almost fell over at the sight of his hair, "did I do that?" He asked, his nose turned up.

All you did was nod, any verbal answer would've sounded almost grossed out or accusatory. He sighed and looked between the hair and you, he wanted to say something, he'd already stopped himself once.

"Tell me," you whispered.

"I want to cut my hair," Bucky responded softly, "I-I also want to sleep on the floor from now own." He seemed ashamed of the second ask.

"You like the cold?" You tried to figure him out.

"That and it's...comforting...I think," Bucky scratched his head, his metal hand slowing at the thin spot from tugging, "it just grounds me, I'm not used to fluffy things- nicer things."

"How about a mattress pad, you're back will scream at you in the morning." You tried to lighten the mood, he smiled a bit and then nodded. "How about you come sleep in my room tonight, just so I can keep an eye on you and if you want to sleep on my firm mattress you can hop on, how's that?" You stood and held your hand out, Bucky nodded and clapped his metal hand to yours.

You led him down the hallway and to your room, it was really quiet and almost off putting. You slept barefoot so the sound of soft footsteps from your feet was the only thing you heard, Bucky wore socks.

He went straight to your bed and felt the mattress, both hands pressing down on it to see the give it has. You felt a little happy when he was nodding in a positive way; his bottom lip also pouted out.

Bucky slipped in and you joined as well, he stayed still for a while, on his back and staring at the ceiling.

"Y'know, you can cuddle," you whispered, without another second to blink Bucky's face rested on your chest, his arm circled your body completely in a tight hug. Your hands found their way to his back and to his hair, softly lulling him to sleep, "I'll cut your hair in the morning."

"Love you," he murmured.

[wormstacheangel]

When Dean finally rescued Cas from the empty, he expected a happy reunion. He envisioned a strong hug like the first time he had escaped. He expected a long-awaited kiss and repeated confessions that weren’t said with sorrow or heartache. He expected to find the same Cas that was taken, but that would have been too easy.

Cas was left awake, alone, and in complete darkness for months on end.

So when Dean went into the empty, ready to wake up the love of his life, he found Cas curled in on himself—staring blankly out into the void of nothingness. He whispered something so softly and quickly that Dean couldn’t pick up on the actual words, but it sounded familiar. Almost like he was humming a song.

Dean tried to get him to stand up on his own, but he quickly realized that Cas wasn’t even looking at him. His gaze was distant, seeing something Dean can’t even imagine. He then noticed the white film over his eyes dimmed the once bright blue.

His fingertips gently traced over the skin he had only dreamt of touching for months before he took a deep, shaky breath to steady himself. With that slight pause, Dean used whatever desperate strength he had and dragged Cas back to the portal.

Back home.

As they got closer, the light of the portal seemed to startle Cas, and he started to shove Dean away. Dean had to put Cas down so he could take his green jacket off and place it over Cas’s head to calm him before he slowly continued to walk through the portal and into the bunker’s library where Jack, Rowena, Eileen, and Sam were waiting for them.

When they walked through, Dean quickly shushed them as he fell to his knees with Cas still in his arms, hidden under the jacket, and covering his ears at the sudden loud voices surrounding them.

Dean looked around at his family, all sharing the same worried glances knowing they were on the same page. Cas’s welcome home party would be pushed back until further notice.

Cas didn’t cry. His expression didn’t change much at all. All Cas did was sit or lay on Dean’s bed with the lights off. All but the desk light. It was an old lightbulb, so the light wasn’t a bright white like the rest of the place. Instead, it illuminated a soft golden glow against the wall.

Cas squinted at it at first, blinking so inhumanly at it, until all Cas did was stare at it. Whenever Dean made any move to turn it off or even just get near the lamp, Cas made a little whine at the back of his throat.

Little noises were the most Dean can get out of Cas. At least it brought him a little relief. It meant Cas could see him at that moment.

Cas still did that rapid talking or singing whenever it was a little bit too quiet. It made Dean wonder if Cas knew he was out of the Empty. Especially during those times when he would stare right past him, unblinking with cold eyes.

It was only the end of the second week when Dean broke down.

[continue under the cut or on AO3]

He didn’t mean to. He was trying so damn hard to keep it together, especially in front of Cas, but one night he just lost it. He can blame the lack of booze in his system, or as he wants, he can blame Sam, who came up to him about a stupid case. It pissed him off more than it should have. The fact that Sam even believed for a second that he would leave the bunker while Cas was like-well the way he was, just gave him enough of an excuse to raise his voice at someone.

Eileen had to step in and tell him to cool off.

Dean stormed off without a glance back and went to his room. He changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed beside Cas. He laid on his stomach as he wrapped one arm over the top of Cas’s waist, scooting close enough so that he could rest his head on Cas’s shoulder. He then opened his mouth to wish him goodnight just like every night, but something in Dean just broke.

He felt the pressure rise up his throat as he tried to hide his face into the familiar body beside him, but the sob still came.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me so long to go get you. Fuck, Cas, please.” Dean took a shaky breath, sniffling as he reached to hold Cas’s hand closer to him. “We missed- I...I missed you. I missed you so much, Cas.” Dean brought Cas’s hand up to his lips and kissed the knuckles before letting the hand rest by his head. His eyes closed as he sighs, “I love you. So come back to me, okay?"

The only response Dean got was a squeeze of the hand, which was enough hope for the future, and more than Dean could have ever asked for at that moment.

As the days went on, Cas didn’t change. Literally and figuratively. He was still an angel, so there was no need for him to shower or brush his teeth, but Dean swore that Cas’s facial hair was growing, so he liked shaving him at least once a week. Cas seemed to like it by the humming noise he made.

They did learn a couple of things as the days went on.

One, peace and quiet are not what they strive for.

It only brought Cas anxiety, and his humming or singing became much louder and more desperate. They fixed that problem with a Bluetooth speaker constantly playing music in the background, a playlist Jack made mixed in with a playlist Jack helped Dean make. It made the humming stop, and Cas started to roll over in bed. He even sat back against the headboard with his eyes closed a few times.

A month after Cas got back, Dean's phone died in the middle of the night, and the silence must have gotten to him. He covered his ears while he started muttering to himself again. Dean woke up and pulled Cas to his chest while softly sing to him in his still half-asleep phase. He didn’t know why that was his first instinct, but he went along with it cause it started to calm Cas down. Then, Cas held him back for the first time—tucking his head right under Dean's jaw and relaxing.

Dean tried not to stiffen at the touch; if he were honest with himself, he would admit he was trying not to cry because he was busy singing. Busy, not wanting to disrupt this moment.

That night Dean sang all night long until Jack checked on them in the early hours and connected his phone.

Two, always have a light source on.

The lamp was the first one they had. Cas constantly wanted it on, but it bothered Dean all the time when he wanted to sleep. So they bought a cool starlight projector, Sam’s idea, that kept the light on the cement ceiling and not on Dean’s face. Cas seemed to enjoy it as he laid on his back, watching it all night, letting Dean curl up on his side as he slept through the night.

Three, never leave Cas alone.

Nobody wanted to leave Cas alone for more than a minute if they could help it. So they made plans to keep him company at all hours of the day. Of course, they weren’t crowding him. They all came in one by one, except for Dean, who would say, “This is my room. I get to come and go as I damn well please.”

Sam liked to sit by Cas's side and talk nerd like they usually would while cleaning his guns or doing research to help another hunter. He would even pause during the one-way conversation to give Cas some time to answer or try to imagine what Cas would say in that situation. Sam was always calm, wanting to keep it as normal as possible while Cas just stared at him, sometimes his eyebrows knitted together, and Dean had to excuse himself as he felt his chest tighten up.

Eileen sat by his side and watched shows she liked while she talked to Cas out loud and signed so he could hear her voice. Even then, she didn’t talk much. Instead, she let the laptop do the talking as she pets Cas’s hair while sitting on the chair by the bed.

Jack came in the most next to Dean. He liked reading to him or talking about how his skills as the new God have improved thanks to Amara.

"Dad, I hope you'll be proud of me." Jack once whispered to Cas, who was having a bad day, checking out more than usual as he stared off into the distance. Eyes wide and almost screaming.

It was almost the end of the second month when another big mile-stone happened.

Jack was lying in bed with Cas while Dean was at his desk, cleaning his guns obsessively again. Jack was reading him a book he bought during his recent trip to the bookstore with Eileen, it was a Star Wars story.

Jack was getting into the book as he read slower but louder during a big fight scene. He got so excited that he even jumped up and looked back at Cas, "Did you hear that, Dad? He won!"

Cas smiled back at him- a genuine smile- and Dean almost dropped the piece of metal in his hand while Jack froze, his shoulders tightening up while he scrunched up his lips as if trying to hold back his cry.

Instead, he quietly composed himself as he asked in a shaky voice, "You want me to read the rest?"

Cas only blinked at him, keeping the slight smile, and Jack took it as a yes. Jack sat beside him again with a big smile plastered on his face, wiping his eyes every other word, as he rested his head on Cas's shoulder to continue reading. Dean didn’t miss when Cas tilted his head down to rest his cheek on Jack’s hair.

He had to excuse himself again.

After that day, Cas slowly started to open up a little more.

Once Dean woke up with Cas out of bed. Dean was already in full panic mode, his shoes on the wrong feet and jacket inside out as he called out for Sam.

Then just as quick as the panic came, relief flooded him when he found Cas in the kitchen trying to make coffee. He turned towards Dean and gave him the smallest of smiles, but it filled Dean with such solace that he just dragged himself to Cas’s space. Dean held his arms open to press Cas into him, and without a second thought, Cas fell right into him as if it was an everyday normal occurrence.

That was the start of Cas now being up and around the bunker. It was like when a baby starts crawling, everyone keeping tabs on the baby’s first steps, except this baby was an eon old celestial being.

The library, Dean’s room, the Dean-cave, and the kitchen were Cas’s favorite places just to sit. He always had Dean’s headphones on, softly playing music, just in case it went quiet, and it took a while for him to be able to walk around without those.

It was the sixth month when Cas wished Dean a goodnight first and then added, “I love you, Dean.”

Dean fought the lump in his throat, but Cas instantly pulled him in, his arms wrapped securely around him. He had so much he wanted to say to Cas just to hear his voice again, anything to listen to his voice again, but instead, he kisses Cas’s chest before saying, “I love you, too.”

Days came and went. Sometimes it seemed like Cas was getting better as he talked a little more, but then those days would come when he would just stare off into the stars on their ceiling. Not moving an inch or bothering to fake breath like he liked. Those days the music was a little louder, and Cas held on to Dean a little tighter.

“I don’t want to go back. Please,” Cas pleaded as he stared wide-eyed at the darkness in the corner of their room. As if he was having a nightmare with his eyes wide open. “Please don’t make me…I-I don’t want to be in the dark again!”

Dean took Cas’s face in between his hands to hold his gaze. Only talking when he knew Cas was seeing him. “It’s okay, Cas. I got you. Nobody’s taking you away from me ever again.”

“Promise?” Dean felt Cas’s grip at his shoulder, holding him with desperation.

“Promise.”

That’s how Cas became human.

The nightmares have him waking up screaming some days, but at least Cas knew he was safe from the Empty’s clutches.

He was going to live his human life being loved and taken care of, and Dean was happy to say he felt Cas was doing the same for him.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐞𝐱/𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 (𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝)

Warnings: NSFW content. Read at your own discretion.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong was already frustrated. He was on a deadline to finish up a song and he was nowhere near even getting halfway. Eden had just recently scolded him and he felt extremely agitated and irritated at this point.

"Hey Joong? I brought you lunch so-"

"Just leave it on the table, I'll eat it later." He cut you off rather sharply, barely even sparing you a glance.

"I was actually thinking we could eat together." You were off put by his short temper.

"I don't have time Y/N." He huffed out, a hand running through his hair.

You were pissed at this point and were not about to take his crap anymore.

"Exactly! You don't have time for me anymore! I get your job demands a lot of your time, but to not even take a break and enjoy just 10 minutes without....these." You gestured to all the mess scattered around his desk.

Hurt about being reminded about his neglect of you yet angry at being scolded once more, Hongjoong slammed his hands on the table, swiftly pushing off the chair before going over to where you were standing and stared you down.

"All right. Fine. 10 minutes you say? I can work with that."

Without a warning, he pushed you onto the couch, making a quick work of your pants and stripping them off you. You let out a sharp cry when he began devouring your pussy, animalistic growls spilling out his lips as he slurped you up as if he'd been starved. When you tried pulling away, he landed a harsh slap on your clit, making your hips jolt up and a shriek come out.

"Shut up and take what I give you you needy desperate whore. You wanted 10 minutes? Let's see how many times I can make you cum in that time."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Hearing the front door slam, Seonghwa brace himself for yet another one of your moods after a long day at work. Wanting to help your day be less stressful, he had prepared you some of your favorites food.

"Y/N." He called out to you in a sing song tone.

Stomping over, you just looked at him with an eyebrow raised, total resting bitch face plastered on.

"I made your favorite." He happily told you, but you still didn't seem to bat an eyelash at him, you simply turned around and began walking out.

"Wait Y/N come on. Here at least try some. It'll help you with your stress-"

"Can't you take a damn hint Seonghwa?! I don't fucking want it!"

When he tried to approach you with a spoonful of food, you actually snapped and slapped it out of his hand, making it stain his perfectly polished floor. Seonghwa looked at it then looked back at you.

"You know Y/N I think I put up with your bratty attitude and bitchy behavior for too long."

You gasped sharply when he suddenly turned you around and slammed you up against the table, grabbing your arms so he could hold them behind your back.

"Maybe I've been a little too nice to you....making you baths, preparing you food, all in hopes of helping you release stress....but its clear a little bitch like you doesn't need that."

You squirmed under his grasp, trying to get free but with no use as his grip was tight on you. The sound of him unbuckling his belt made you stop moving entirely, and you shivered when pulled your skirt up before ripping your tights and pushing your underwear to the side.

"Clearly a bitch like you needs a good pounding, fuck that attitude right out of you."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

You knew you were screwed the instant Yunho roughly pulled you off Mingi's lap and took you into his room, shutting the door right behind him before staring at you with fire burning through his eyes. You had never seen him so mad before.

No soon afterwards, you were currently on top of him, his hips bucking up at you at a relentless pace that had you screaming his name over and over again. His hands were practically digging into your skin, holding tightly onto you with such ferocity.

"Look at you, being so desperate for a good fuck that you'd actually try and whore yourself out to my best friend like a cheap bitch."

When one of his hands came up to grasp at your throat, you were shivering on top of him.

"Weren't you?! What! Is my cock not enough for you? My cock and these hands you love so much not satisfying you anymore? Hmm? Is that why you were all cuddled up to Mingi? Hoped he'd actually take pity and fuck you?"

You knew it wasn't your intention to make him jealous, but god if this is what jealousy did to him, you would totally do it again.

"Stupid slut. Mingi's not going to fuck you. You're just a dirty, filthy hole, he doesn't want you...."

Even after you came, you were still a crying mess as Yunho kept fucking up into you, not caring that you were beyond your limit, your inner thighs getting sore.

"But you're my little hole for me to fuck. Got it? And if I need to fuck you dumb to get it through that stupid useless brain of yours to understand that only I can make you feel this good, then so be it. I'll fuck you til you break, my little sex toy."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang was not very pleased by your behavior lately. You had been giving him the silent treatment and avoiding him for no good reason. Trying to coax what was wrong out of you, he came up behind you as you were washing dishes.

"How's my little princess? Did you have a good day?"

He was only met with you elbowing him in the rib and shoved him off you.

"Ok seriously Y/N? What did I even do? Stop being so childish and talk to me like a mature adult."

Hearing you scoff and seeing you roll your eyes at him made him furious and irritated with you. As you tried to walk past him, he grabbed your elbow and picked you up, setting you down on the kitchen counter as his eyes burned a hole through you.

"If you're going to keep acting like a brat, maybe I should just treat you like one then."

You don't know if you truly regret breaking Yeosang's patience. On the one hand, you were definitely not going to be walking straight for a week. On the other, you utterly enjoyed having your face pressed against the pillow, ass up as Yeosang was shoving his dick in and out of you, red handprints scattered across your butt cheeks and hands tied behind your back with one of his ties. Everytime you tried to hide your face in the pillow to muffle your screams, he'd yank your hair up.

"I said I wasn't having you ignore me anymore princess. Now come on, scream my name. I want this entire floor to hear your pathetic whimpers."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San looked at you with an unamused gaze.

"Repeat what you just said.....I dare you to."

He was pissed off, it was more than clear. But maybe that's what you wanted, wanted him to be as pissed as you were, even just a bit of what you were feeling. It's not that you meant to take out your jealousy on him, but seeing his co-host be extremely clingy towards him backstage and he never did anything about it made your blood boil.

"I said you're nothing more than a fucking horn dog. Probably let that skank suck your dick." You exclaimed in disgust.

The sudden slam of his hand against the wall behind you both scared and thrilled you. Looking at you with a hungry smirk, he opened the door behind you, trapping you inside a closet. In minutes, he was pressing you against the wall, his frantic grunts mixing with your whimpered cries. San would occasionally let out a sadistic laugh at how wrecked you look.

"You're right baby, I am indeed a horn dog. Absolutely love getting my dick wet and fuck a pussy all the time."

Hand reaching between your legs, he began to harshly pinch and rub at your clit, his other hand that was holding onto your hip keeping you from collapsing on the floor as your orgasm took over you.

"But get this straight: I only fuck this pussy right here. Ok? I fucking claimed this a long ass time ago and I'll fuck it whenever I want to."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Ending the call with your friend, you were coming out of the bedroom when you were suddenly shoved back inside by none other than your usually caring and sweet boyfriend, who looked angry as he closed the door behind him.

"Mingi? What-"

You couldn't finish your sentence as his large hands cupped your cheeks, his long body pushing you back until you landed on the bed. He was kissing you harshly, nothing like the usual tender and loving kisses he'd be known to give you. His hands clutched at your covered breasts, groping at them before he unexpectedly tore your shirt in the middle.

"Mingi! What has gotten into you?!" You exclaimed in shock at his sudden change in behavior.

"I heard you talking to your friend. Saying shit like I'm too soft and vanilla for you."

You moaned out when he began to suck along your neck, his hands cupping your bra and pulling it down enough to have your breasts spill out.

"Oh princess if only you knew I've just been holding back all this time."

With a taunting chuckle, he pulled of you. Undoing his zipper, he began to strip out of his jeans and briefs, letting his long cock spring free, precum leaking at the tip.

"I didn't want to be selfish and break you like I wanted too....... but if that's what you want well then, I'd be happy to oblige my little princess."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Neither of you knew how it started nor exactly how it escalated. One minute Wooyoung was being the annoying shit he was, with you playfully shoving him away and calling him names, and then the next you were both pushing each other rather abruptly. When you called him a particularly degrading insult, he retaliated likewise and now it seemed like a screaming match between you two.

"You know what? This is fucking stupid!" You hollered and turned away, making a bee line towards your room.

"I'm not done yet!" Wooyoung trailed after you.

"Well I am! Now excuse me, I'm going to go take a shower and hopefully cool off this rage." You stated firmly before slamming the bathroom door right in his face.

The refreshing water seemed to calm you down a little, so you just stood there under the shower head, just letting your body soak in the cold. You were so unaware of your surroundings that you failed to notice Wooyoung had entered the bathroom and didn't realize it until you felt his arms turn you around to face him. No explanation, he just began kissing you, his tongue taking control over your mouth while one hand hiked one of your legs over his waist.

"Still think I'm an annoying bastard?" He grunted fiercely as he thrusted up into you, not giving you time to react as he began pounding into you.

"Yes you are!" You hissed at him, hands swooping his wet hair and tugging at it rather hardly.

He just looked at you with a shit eating grin.

"Yet you still let me fuck you. "

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

You were frustrated and stressed out, so was Jongho. Even as you two did your own little things inside the apartment, even the smallest things either of you did made the other let out an annoyed huff. It all culminated when Jongho accidentally spilled his cup of juice on the floor, that little action had you both looking at each other with near contempt.

"I feel like punching something." Jongho confessed.

"Me too." You admitted.

"Wanna punch me?" He offered.

Smirking at him, you thought about something better.

"No.... I think I'd rather fuck you."

So now here you were, underneath your inhumanely strong boyfriend, his cock balls deep inside you, your legs thrown over his shoulders while his hands were already leaving bruises around your inner thighs from how hard he was squeezing at them. You two had already cum several times but you still kept going, pushing past your sensitivity as you both still had a lot of rage and energy to release.

In a particularly sharp angle of his hips, you were quivering under Jongho, for the first time you were actually squirting under him.

"Oh fuck!" Seeing you break down and make a mess all over him and yourself had him cumming soon after, his body collapsing on top of yours.

Both of you were beyond exhausted after all that. Your bodies were so sticky with sweat and your breathing had not yet returned to normal. Looking over at you, Jongho smiled sincerely for the first time in days.

"So.... now that we got that out of the way.... can we cuddle?"

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[griffintail]

I just had this small idea of a Pokémon AU? One where the Sbi family helps their younger sibling, who’s nervous around Pokémon, to get more comfortable around them? I just think it’d be cute to have Techno, Wil, and Tommy be good big brothers. And yeah, this is kind of inspired by that kid from the Destiny Deoxys movie, and Lillie from the Sun and Moon games/series.

I don't think I've researched this much for a request XD I even watched the movie! Bonus points to those who know who I based Techno's character off of!

Pokémon Fears

Pairings: Platonic! Tommy, Technoblade, Wilbur, x GN! Sibling! Reader

Warnings: Pokemon Battles?

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

Technoblade

(Y/N) cheered up in the stands louder than most of the people around them, Phil having long ago given up on quieting his youngest as they were watching his oldest battle. It was the championship and they were against the champion of their region, Technoblade. (Y/N) loved watching Techno during the League battles, though it was a different story off the field.

They roared with the crowd as the finalist last Pokémon was down, Techno patting his Garchomp’s shoulder for a good job.

“Alright.” Phil laughed before picking (Y/N) up and putting them on his shoulders. “Let’s go congratulate Techno.”

Holding onto Phil’s hands as he walked, (Y/N) eagerly chatted about the different Pokémon the other trainers used. It always surprised Phil that (Y/N) was always interested in the different creatures but if one so much as got too close…

(Y/N) squeaked as a Pidgey flew by their head, ducking down. Phil sighed patting their knee.

“It’s alright. They’re not going to do anything.”

Phil and the boys were never quite sure why (Y/N) was afraid of Pokémon, but they just were and couldn’t get near them. They could watch battles from a distance and had a decent amount of knowledge about various types, but couldn’t pluck the courage to be a few steps from them.

Techno was moving away from a few fans when (Y/N) and Phil showed up.

“Techno!” (Y/N) grinned again. “That was so cool! When Garchomp earthquaked their Blaziken-”

Techno chuckled as he took his sibling from Phil and let them ramble.

“Alright, alright.” He told them. “Why don’t we get something to eat and give Phil a break while you talk?”

“Can we go to that good sandwich place?” (Y/N) grinned.

“Yeah, ok. We’ll be home later Phil.”

“Ok, make sure you’re home before ten,” Phil told him and Techno gave a mock salute before walking off.

He let (Y/N) ramble away about the battles as he got their food and brought them to a park, sitting at a more secluded table. (Y/N) went quiet as they began to eat and Techno waited before speaking.

“So, why don’t we try again?” He offered as he took a Pokeball off his belt.

(Y/N) frowned as they shrank in their seat a bit, muttering, “I don’t know…”

“You got really close last time to actually petting Togekiss.” Techno reminded them. “So, why don’t we try one more time?”

“I got really close but I didn’t…I’m still scared.”

“It's ok to be. You sit and watch me battle trainer after trainer after all. You see what they do for battle. You don’t take a lot of time to just sit with them.” Techno said. “So, let’s let Togekiss sit with us.”

Techno let the Pokémon out and the creature let out a small noise as he stood on the table. (Y/N) squirmed in their seat as they looked at the creature.

“Why don’t you keep eating then try and pet him? Ok?” Techno offered and (Y/N) stared at the Pokémon before slowly nodding.

Their lunch continued, (Y/N) even quieter with the creature so close. Techno occasionally gave a bit of food to his Togekiss until both he and (Y/N) were done.

“Alright, now let’s try. Just be gentle, just like this.” Techno pet his Togekiss. “You can do it.”

(Y/N) stared at the Pokémon before reaching a hand out shakily. Togekiss stayed still, having done this a few times before and knowing his movement scared the poor child. (Y/N)’s and hovered above his head before closing their eyes and finally put their hand on top of it. Techno grinned proudly as (Y/N) stayed still for a moment before opening their eyes and grinning themselves when they saw that they actually did it.

“I-I did it!” (Y/N) grinned as they gently pet Togekiss, the Pokémon giving a small noise of delight.

“You did. I told you, you could.” Techno patted their head. “Now, you’ll be a champion before you know it.”

(Y/N) giggled as they smiled lightly at the Pokémon. Yeah, they’d be just like Techno.

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

Wilbur

Wilbur came up to (Y/N)’s door, knocking. A moment later, (Y/N) opened and smiled up at him.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m going to play my guitar with my Pokémon, want to come and try sitting with us today?” Wilbur crouched in front of them.

It was always sad to Wilbur to see his sibling afraid of Pokémon. He knew they had a bad encounter with a more aggressive Taillow but he was sad to see they couldn’t bring themselves to be near other types. It made sense why they were extremely afraid of Phil’s Murkrows but not as much for other types. He actually missed sitting with (Y/N) while he played guitar and his Pokémon sang with them.

(Y/N) hesitated at the doorway before nodding slowly. “Yes.”

Wilbur smiled, ruffling their hair as he stood up. “Ok, get your shoes on and grab your jacket just in case and we’ll go to the park.”

He waited by the front door for them and called to Phil they were going out when they came down. They walked side by side to the park, the pair joking with each other. At one point, Wilbur gave them a shove before sprinting the rest of the way, challenging them as he ran away. (Y/N) laughed before sprinting after him, calling him out for his cheating.

The pair finally sat by the lake and Wilbur tuned his guitar.

“Any requests?” Wilbur looked up at them.

They shifted nervously now as now would be the time to let the Pokémon out and he smiled gently as he ruffled (Y/N)’s hair.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’ll only let Lapras and Marill to start, ok? We’ll work up to Altaria.” Wilbur assured them.

(Y/N) was silent before nodding. “Ok…can you sing one of your songs?”

He kept his soft smile for his sibling as he took out two Pokeballs from his bag. “Of course, I can, you ready?”

They nodded once more and he released Lapras in the lake and Marill next to the water’s edge. (Y/N) moved back slightly as Marill gave a delighted motion to see the other human again.

“Alright, you two,” Wilbur said putting a hand on top of Marill’s head. “We’re going to stay calm and sing for (Y/N).”

Both of the Pokémon let out a noise of agreement before Wilbur started to play. (Y/N) watched nervously as the trio in front of them. Wilbur was singing the actual words as he strummed as his Pokémon managed to harmonize with him, making a beautiful sound. They were starting on the third song when (Y/N) finally started to sing with them. Wilbur grinned brightly as he continued, Marill giving an elated noise as Lapras gave an encouraging one.

After the group finished the fourth song, they took a moment to break and Wilbur just strummed mindlessly when Marill wandered over to (Y/N). They scooted back slightly as Wilbur paused to put his instrument down.

“It’s ok. Marill would never hurt you. She just wants to sit in your lap, just like she used to.”

(Y/N) hesitated but sat still, shaking as Marill sat in their lap. They looked up at Wilbur to see him smiling as he scooted next to them to put a hand on their shoulder.

“See? You’re alright. It’s just Marill.”

(Y/N) stared down at the Pokémon in their lap before shakily putting a hand on her head. Marill gave an excited noise, startling (Y/N), but Wilbur hugged them around the shoulder to calm them.

“It’s ok,” Wilbur assured them.

They sat with their hand on Marill’s head for a few minutes before finally smiling lightly as they finally ran their hand along her head.

“There you go. I’m very proud of you.” Wilbur grinned.

“Thanks, Wilbur.” They smiled up at him.

It was a week later when Altaria was able to once more join their group.

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

Tommy

“How do you plan on helping (Y/N)?” Tubbo asked and Tommy groaned loudly.

“I don’t know big man! Phil, Techno, and Wilbur all tried to help them out but they still can’t even get close to their own Pokémon!” Tommy threw up his arms.

It had been a week when Tommy and (Y/N) had snuck into a safari area they weren’t supposed to be in. As such, the Pokémon in the area had been startled by their presence and both had to be helped by the adults. Tommy had been fine, he didn’t mind the change in their adventure, but (Y/N) being a bit younger than him had been freaked out by the experience and was terrified at the moment to be around Pokémon, even their own Eevee, Electrike, and Riolu.

So, not only was Tommy in trouble for having the pair sneak into a place they were supposed to be but for also making (Y/N) freak out like they were.

“What can I do?” Tommy asked his friend.

Tubbo hummed. “Well, what did they like to do with their Pokémon before?”

“We’d have mock battles and they liked to go on walks and play with them,” Tommy told him.

“Well then do that! Have a mock battle with them. I’m sure they can’t resist, you both want to be trainers, right?”

“Well, yeah, we’re going to be the best champions!”

“Then they won’t be able to say no.”

Tommy nodded after a moment, grinning. “Yeah! Thanks, Tubbo! I got to go do that now!”

Tommy ran back home to gather (Y/N)’s Pokémon and his own in the backyard. Once he had them all, he knocked on (Y/N)’s door. They opened, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s up Tommy?” They asked.

“I challenge you to battle!” Tommy declared.

(Y/N) frowned, shuffling nervously. “I…Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Come on! We’re going to be Pokémon Champions, right?” Tommy grinned.

“I don’t know if I want to anymore.” (Y/N) muttered.

“Oh, come off it.” Tommy huffed before grabbing their hand.

“Tommy.” (Y/N) protested but Tommy dragged them to the backyard.

“No, come on. We’ve both wanted to be trainers since before we could even have Pokémon. You have been training yours and learning to be a trainer and now you want to quit? I won’t let it happen.” Tommy told them before going into the backyard. “So, let’s battle.”

(Y/N) shook as they saw the six Pokémon waiting and having their own conversations it seemed. There were (Y/N)’s own three and Tommy’s Charmander, Torchic, and Cyndaquil.

“T-Tommy, I can’t!” (Y/N) tried to leave.

“You can. Look, you and I are better than any other trainer. And you’re not giving it up.” Tommy pulled them forward and made them stand away but behind their Pokémon before he stood behind his own. “Now, you make the first move!”

Tommy didn’t want (Y/N) to throw away everything the pair of them had learned. They had both been excited about becoming trainers and had mock battles where their Pokémon didn’t seriously hurt each other and they even used all of their Pokémon at once. They both thought it’d make them better trainers as they would be able to focus much better on a one-on-one battle and they’d know how to make split-second calls faster. The pair of them worked so hard! And Tommy didn’t want to be the reason (Y/N) quit.

This had to work.

(Y/N)’s Pokémon were very happy to see them. Their Eevee and Electrike wagged their tails as their Riolu waved at them. (Y/N) gripped their hands nervously. They were so close to Pokémon and they were scared…but Tommy was right, they did want to be a trainer…even if they thought quitting was best.

“Come on (Y/N)!” Tommy cheered from his side.

They looked over at their brother and Tommy was grinning. They thought before taking a deep breath. They could do this…

“…Electrike! Thunderwave on Charmander!” They called out, Electrike letting out an excited call before doing as told, the rest of the Pokémon eager for the mock battle.

Tommy grinned brightly. “Cyndaquil! Smoke Screen!”

“Riolu, foresight!”

The pair played out their battle, both smiling and enjoying time with their Pokémon after. Tommy was extremely relieved as (Y/N) sat happily petting their Eevee. He’d be careful next time.

[countryclubstarkey]

SOMETHING TO REMEMBER - Sirius Black Smut

Pairings: Sirius Black x Virgin Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, first time, fingering, making out and more

Word Count: 2k+

*Not my Gif

The marauders were quite famous at Hogwarts, known for their pranking and good looks; the group of boys had everyone looking at them at all times. Some people looked at them with hatred, such as Severus Snape and others worshipped the ground they walked on.

You had neutral feelings about them as long as they didn’t mess with you, you were fine with whatever chaos they were causing, plus their good looks and charm were always a nice thing to be around.

Today, the group of boys decided to turn all the Slytherin uniforms Gryffindor red, causing most of them to be in a foul mood. You found it particularly funny, especially when you saw Lucius Malfoy with his platinum hair in the uniform.

Late afternoon on Friday, you were all sitting in potions listening to Slughorn ramble about random topics that he found interesting when suddenly a student knocked on the door.

“Professor Slughorn, Professor McGonagall needs you for something important,” a random second-year student told him. “I’ll be back soon everyone, please read page 300 in the meantime.”

Nobody truly listened to him; instead, everyone turned to their friends.

Feeling a sudden warmth around your ear and you turned to see Sirius Black closing in and leaning towards you. You and Sirius had a strange relationship; he would flirt with you at any chance he could just to see you blush, and to be honest, you didn’t mind the attention.

“So you coming to my party tonight?” he whispered gently in your ear. Your body covered with chills because of how close he was.

“I don’t think so; I have a lot to study.”

A pouty expression made its way on his face, “cmon it’s my birthday; it would mean a lot to the birthday boy.”

Before you could reply, Professor Slughorn made his way back into the room and began his lesson again with just a few minutes left of class. As you were heading back to your dorm room after, a loud booming sound echoed throughout the hall calling your name, “Y/N, wait up.”

Sirius was rushing across the hall trying to reach you, “you never said yes, you know,” the fit boy told you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders to guide you to your dorm.

“Fine, I’ll come for a little bit, and that’s only because I want to talk to Remus about this new book that came out last month,” you mentioned.

Little chuckles escaped his lips as he found your slight obsession with books adorable, but he would never mention that to you at least not right now. “We both know you’re coming for me, darling, save me dance,” Sirius said while walking away, causing you to let out a deep sigh because of how he was making you feel.

Meanwhile, when you got back to your dorm, you decided to pick what to wear to the party and got ready since you only had a little bit of time before it became dark. Whenever any of the marauders threw a party, they tended to get a little wild and out of control so you had to prepare yourself for that.

When nighttime finally hit, you met up with Lily, Alice, Marlene and Mary to head to the party together. Glowing lights brightly lit the Gryffindor common room, the smell of alcohol and weed flowing through the air and the music was loudly played throughout the room. No doubt the music choice were all Sirius’s favourite muggle songs.

You saw the birthday boy and James singing along to whatever song they could their hands on while dancing on the tables already out of their minds. Remus and Peter were trying to get them down before they injured themselves but they were having trouble standing up themselves.

“Guess we have to catch up,” Marlene grinned and dragged all of you to the table that offered the fire whiskey. After several shots, you were finally relaxed and in a similar mindset as the boys. As time went on, you danced and took even more shots with everyone at the party, including Remus, who decided to let loose tonight. Everyone was having the time of their lives, nobody thought about what was going on outside of Hogwarts, but only the party in the Gryffindor common room.

Around 3 a.m, people started heading back to their rooms, and only you, Lily, Marlene, Mary, Alice, Frank and the marauders were left sitting on the couches.

“Let’s play spin the bottle,” Mary suddenly brought up and pulled everyone in a circle. Mary decided to spin the bottle first, and it landed on Marlene; the two girls didn’t hesitate and shared a sweet but intimate kiss.

“That was too easy for you guys,” Remus blurted out, suddenly feeling the effects of the alcohol. The girls shrugged while giggling as Marlene spun the bottle and it landed on James. James gave her a quick peck out of respect for Lily.

Next, James spun the bottle, and it landed on Sirius Black.

“No, Padfoot, cmon not again,” James groaned out, not interested in kissing his best mate. Curiously, Alice said, “what do you mean not again?”

Sirius winked, “That’s a story for another time; let’s go prongs, pucker up.” James and Sirius leaned in and gave each other a quick kiss before wiping it off as soon as they finished. The whole group erupted into laughter over the discomfort they saw in the two.

As the laugher started to die down, you began to grow nervous as you noticed it was Sirius’s turn to spin the bottle, and just because of your luck, the bottle landed on you.

Sirius moved towards you, “May I?” You nodded your head at him as you both gradually leaned in and connected your lips. Sirius could feel how nervous you were, so he allowed you to make the next move without pushing you any further.

You deepened the kiss when you felt at ease and could taste cigarettes, fire whiskey and a hint of honey lingering on his lips.

Sirius raised his hand to caress the soft skin of your jaw as he slipped his tongue slowly past your lips, trying to savour this moment as much as he could. Both of you didn’t realize the others were still there until you heard someone clear their throat. Sirius sighed against your lips before giving you one last peck and pulling away to look at your friends again.

The awkward moment passed as time went on, and one by one, everyone went to bed until it was only you and Sirius.

“You know this wasn’t a one-time thing; I really wanted to kiss you, love. I’ve actually liked you for a while now,” Sirius broke the silence and grabbed your hand.

You smiled at him, returning his actions, “I wanted to kiss you too Sirius.” A big grin made its way across his face as he grabbed your waist and pulled you into his lap.

This time you closed the distance between the two of you as your hands grasped his precious locks. The kiss got deeper and more intense with time. You pulled away to steady your breathing as Sirius attached his lips to your jaw, nipping at the skin. Sirius loved the way your skin felt on his lips as he left kisses all across your neck and jaw.

“We should stop before we do something you might regret,” Sirius tried pulling away, but you captured his face and brought him back into the kiss.

In a soothing tone, “I’m not going to regret doing anything with you because I have feelings for you too, I’m sure Sirius,” you told him. Suddenly, Sirius stood up with you wrapped around his body as he headed towards the door of the common room.

“Where are we going,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible. “Somewhere that’s going to give us a little more privacy.”

A door appeared out of nowhere on one of the walls allowing Sirius to step in. It was a replica of the Gryffindor common room except a king-sized bed in the middle. He settled you on the bed as he began kissing down your body, not leaving an inch uncovered.

You helped him unbutton your shirt as he started to kiss your exposed breasts, leaving love bites that you’ll cherish in the morning. “Siri-us,” your moans filled the room as you pulled his hair from the pleasure.

“Fuck, I love your tits,” his words made you blush as you tried to hide your face in your arms, but he didn’t give you the chance to do so. He took off your shirt and bra as he began palming and teasing your nipples, causing chills to gather around your body. You tried to take his shirt off, but his actions stopped you midway. One hand continued to caress your tits, but his other hand started to rub you through your panties, trying to gather your arousal.

“Darling, are you trying to kill me,” he groaned out. Sirius took your panties off but kept your skirt on as he began rubbing your bare cunt.

“We can stop anytime, you know, are you sure you want me to continue,” he asked you one last time. You nodded your head furiously at him trying to get him to continue, “I need words Y/N.”

“Yes, please,” you told him as he entered one finger through your folds and teased your clit with his thumb. Feeling your body clench hard around him as you tried to adjust to the new feeling. Once your body relaxed; he sped up his movements and added another finger.

You felt a foreign feeling on your clit, as something wet started licking at it. Sirius’s head was between your legs as his tongue worked on your clit and his fingers in your pussy. The new action created a different feeling, a good difference. “Plea-se, don’t stop. I’m going to cu-,” you panted as you felt your stomach twist and clench.

“Let go for me,” Sirius groaned out as he felt you release on his tongue and fingers. He helped you calm down after your orgasm by rubbing your thighs whispering praises throughout the entire process. When your eyes opened, Sirius was leaning over and looking at you with lust and love in his eyes. You felt his bulge rubbing against your body as he began peppering kisses on your face.

You both helped him out of his clothes so that he was left bare. His cock stood proudly as the red tip was oozing already with pre-cum and the rest throbbing. He switched your positions so that he was laying underneath you now as you sat in his lap in nothing but your skirt from earlier tonight, quickly; he casted a contraception spell.

His hands rubbed down his cock to get it ready for your next move.

“Ready?” the raven-haired boy asked. His thumbs rubbing circles around your hips, reassuring you if you had any regret you can back out now.

You nodded and braced yourself before slowly lowering yourself on his cock. Your breathing increased as he stretched you out, the pain increased as you went down inch by inch, his face scrunched up in pain and pleasure as he wanted nothing more than to thrust fully into you.

“Love, it’ll feel a lot better if you relaxed,” he told you, trying to make this pleasurable for you both when he saw the tears welling in your eyes.

You controlled your breathing as you felt your muscles loosen and the pain became more bearable. He felt you relax around him as it became more pleasurable rather than painful. Sirius gently thrusted trying to see your reactions at a slow pace; with a nod and brief bounce, his thrusts got quicker.

Pleasurable moans left your lips as his cock hit spots that you weren’t familiar with; you began returning his thrusts and tried to control the movements yourself when you felt more comfortable. Nails started dragging down his chest when Sirius angled his hips differently, causing him to aim at your g-spot.

“Darling, you feel so nice and tight,” he groaned out, trying to last a little longer but your pussy preventing it. He dragged your body towards his own and began rapidly thrusting, causing the room to be filled with your loud moans. His lips connected to your neck, breasts and anything else that he could find. He saw your mouth fall open when his finger made contact with your clit as he rubbed a figure-eight motion helping you reach climax.

“I’-m close,” you groaned in his ear as your body began shaking and the tight feeling made its way back in your stomach. Sirius didn’t stop when he felt you cum all over his cock, he continued working you through your orgasm while trying to reach his at the same time.

“Sh-it” he exclaimed as he released his cum. You felt his cum mix with yours as it dripped out leaking onto your thighs and the bed.

Once both of you came down from your high, you slowly got off Sirius to lay down beside him cuddling into his warm body. The only sounds in the empty room were your heavy breathing and the light rain that was hitting the windows. The air began to feel cooler as you snuggled deeper into Sirius, burying your head in his chest.

“How was that for you,” his beautiful voice genuinely asked you.

In a calm tone, “Something worth remembering” you told him as your eyes started to flutter away.

[cazzyvintage]

A Freudian Slip - The Sequel

Synopsis: Zemo was always getting on your nerves. Yes, he was hot and god you were attracted to him but he was also your enemy. After what happened last night you were trying your best to pretend it never happened however Zemo isn’t willing to let you do that.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings/Tags: FOR A MATURE AUDIENCE, Smut, Oral sex, Fingering, Slight fluff, mentions of guns

Author's note: You guys really liked ‘the Freudian Slip’ and I’ve had a few requests to write a sequel, so here I am. This is my first time attempting to write smut for all y'all who are horny for Zemo so um hopefully it’s good. IF YOU KNOW ME NO YOU DON’T

My Master list

“Madripoor knows how to give New York a run for its money,” Sam says as they walk past all these containers.

“They know how to party,” Zemo replies, walking up beside you. His arm grazes against yours, making you tense. Picking up your pace, you reach Bucky and leaving Zemo behind.

Last night you might have made the worst mistake of your life. You had made out with Zemo.

Zemo!

The man that was a terrorist. The man who had caused the Avengers to split up. You hated him! You had to hate him. Right?

Yet when you glance over to him, you can’t help feel warm inside. Goosebumps crawl up your skin as you hear him speak. That accent of his drove you wild. You want to kiss that smirk off his face when he looks at you. His brown eyes bearing into yours. He made you feel alive. He made you feel all hot and bothered. He made you feel confused.

Earlier at Sharon’s party, you were watching him. Usually, you like a party, but this time you held back. Zemo looked around for you, but he eventually gave up and danced on his own. You smiled as you watched him have fun. For those moments he seemed so innocent. You wanted to join him dancing, but Sam and Bucky were already suspicious of you and Zemo. Why it had taken you two so long to reach them after you split up. You had to distance yourself from him. No matter how hard you found it.

You swallow, pushing away the thoughts of you and him as you tried to focus back on the mission at hand.

You arrived at the crater, and Sharon handed you all earpieces to wear. Placing it in your ear and head into the crater. It was pitch black in there, making you stop to try to see anything.

Zemo was following up behind you, and as you stopped walking, he walked into you. You stiffened, feeling his body press up against yours. His arm reaches around, squeezing yours as he moves beside you. Though you couldn’t see him, you just knew he was smirking at you.

Zemo pulled out a flashlight. He shone it in your eyes to annoy you before shining it forward to see the end of the crater. He walked forward, touching the wall, then pushed it. The wall moved, revealing it as a door as music flooded the room. He glances back at you, Sam and Bucky as you all pull out your guns. Sam and Bucky head in and you follow them as Zemo keeps the door open for you. His hand rested on the dip of your back as you walked past, but you shook it off. He turned to stare at you, but you continued to walk ahead, not giving him a second glance.

The song ‘Comin home baby’ plays out of a record as you enter. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you glance around where you were. Rounding the corner, you finally see the man you had been looking for. He was quietly singing along, unaware of the people approaching him from behind. Sam and Bucky questioned him while you and Zemo held back.

You were just there for backup you didn’t want to get involved. Your eyes sneak back to admiring Zemo though, and you wonder just how involved you were. Zemo’s eyes snap to yours as he notices you staring, and he tilts his head at you, his thin lips sneaking up in a curl.

You look away, staring ahead, willing your cheeks to stop blushing.

As Sam and Bucky continued to interrogate the doctor, Zemo walked around the area. You kept trying to see what he was doing while at the same trying to make sure Zemo didn’t notice you.

Sharon runs into the room at that moment, “Guys, we’ve got to go”

Zemo quickly raises his hand, showing a gun he had found, and shoots the doctor dead.

“NO!” both you and Sam shouted, looking at Zemo in shock. Sam crashes into Zemo, holding him against the wall to stop him from shooting anyone else. You rush over and prize the gun out of Zemo’s hand, chucking it to the floor.

Before you got another moment to think, the whole crater exploded. You were flung back down, hitting your head against the floor. Searing pain crossed the back of your head and you let out a yelp of pain.

Groaning, you raised your hand to your head. Pulling it back, you see your hand covered in blood.

“Shit” you mutter trying to wipe your hand on your clothes.

You felt arms wrap around you, pulling you off the floor. You blink, trying to get the dust out of your eyes as the arms guide you out of the rubble. Finally, in the sunlight, you realize Zemo has his hands on your side pulling you along. Just as you two left the remains of the building, it explodes behind you.

“Are you okay?” Zemo questions as he turns you around to look at him. His eyes glanced up and down you in worry as he takes in the extent of your injuries.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Zemo, were they still in there!?” you ask anxiously as you look back to the burning building.

“They’ll be fine, come we need to go,” Zemo insisted, grabbing a hold of your hand again pulling you along. Your head still seized with pain making you trip slightly, but you kept it together.

“Where the hell are we going?” you ask but Zemo doesn’t answer he just keeps running and pulls you up onto a crater.

“Zemo!” you exclaim in annoyance, then your eyes widen as he pulls something out of his pocket.

“What the fuck is that”

“My mask, ”

“Your what now? Since when have you had a mask!” you question, looking at him confused.

“I’ve always had one. Now you need to duck” he ordered, looking over the edge of the crater.

“Why should I do that”

He rolls his eyes and wrenches you down, “Can’t you listen to me for once y/n'' he exclaims. He then grabs your gun and heads to the front of the crate wearing his mask. He shoots a pipe, and it explodes, sending a shock wave through you. You collapse to the ground feeling faint from the blood loss and Zemo rushes back to you.

He puts his hand on the back of your head to help you up, and his eyes widen when he pulls his hand away to see blood covering it.

“Why didn’t you say something” he angrily muttered.

“I’m fine” you groaned, but the black spots you could see in your vision said otherwise.

Zemo wrapped one arm under your legs and the other under your back and picked you up. He held you close to his chest as he ran forward holding you in his arms,

After a few minutes, he helps you stand up, letting you lean on him. You hated how dependent you were on Zemo at this moment, but a darker side of you enjoyed being this close to him. Leaning against a crate, you watch as Zemo finally pulls off his mask and opens one crate. Your eyes widen in shock as you watch him ride out in a car.

He gets out and opens the passenger seat door for you. Putting one arm around your waist and making you wrap your arm around his shoulder. He guides you to the car and helps you in. Both of you don’t speak. He knew you were too embarrassed to, and at this moment he didn’t want to push you.

Driving along you two picked up Sam and Bucky, who were thankful for seeing you alive. The car drive lasted a few hours, but eventually, you arrived at a new city where Zemo had a place you could stay.

Zemo got out of the car to help you out, but by this time you're determined to not rely on him. You pushed the door open, swung your legs out, tried to stand up, and almost fell over, but Bucky grabbed you.

“She needs medical help,” Zemo demanded as he opens the door to the house to let you in. Bucky excuses himself for a walk as Sam and Zemo help walk you into the building. They guide you to the sofa and lay you down. Sam finds some bandages to apply to your head while Zemo pours out some whiskey for you.

“To get rid of the pain,” he says, handing it to you. He sits beside you, gently putting his hand over the bandage on your head.

“Watch it” Sam growls glaring at him,

“My apologies,” Zemo quipped, removing his hand and your heart sinks a bit as he moves away.

With the pain easing, you eventually drift off into a light sleep. You don’t know how long you slept for, but when you woke up and looked around the room, you were in was empty. Feeling stronger, you stand up and start looking around the room. You notice a door off to the side where you could hear running water. Heading towards it, you gently knock on the door.

The water stops, and the door opens slightly to reveal Zemo on the other side. As he sees you, he opens the door and pulls you into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

“I-I didn’t mean to come in here, I just wanted to see who was around” you mutter as your eyes flicker up and down Zemo. He was currently dressed in a bathrobe, and from the way it looks, not much else. Your eyes focused on the necklace that hung around his neck. How low the bathrobe dipped, exposing a part of his chest. You felt your core warming up and your mind filled with thoughts.

Zemo chuckles as he watches your eyes run up and down him, “Liking what you see?”

You freeze, bringing you back to reality. “N-no” you say, turning around trying to open the door but Zemo wraps his arms around you pulling you to him. He leans his face into your neck kissing it making your eyes flutter shut and let out a slight moan.

“How's your head?” Zemo asks, pulling back from you and raising his hand to touch the bandage.

You turn your head slightly, looking at him annoyed. Hopping from trying to seduce you to a casual conversation as nothing happened.

“I’m fine”

“Well, forgive me darling for not believing you but last time you said that you weren’t”

“I feel better...thank you for helping me”

“Anytime darling” he whispers in your ear. As his body presses into you, you could feel near your ass a bulge pressing against you.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” he then asks

“I haven’t” you quickly reply. He turns you around and pushes you against the door, tilting his head and staring intently

“Don’t lie to me y/n”

His serious glare makes you feel fuzzy, makes you feel warm but also angry at him. He knows very dam well why you have.

“Because Zemo, you are supposed to be a bad guy. Someone I should hate! I shouldn’t be doing thinking things of you”

He leans towards you, his lips grazing yours, “Such as?”

You pause for a moment, knowing you shouldn’t step over this line, but you just can’t help it.

“Fucking you”

“Oh? Such dirty thoughts. I thought you were above such things.” Zemo purrs

“Stop teasing me!” You whine. You try to lean forward to capture his lips but he leans back, putting his finger on them.

“Ah y/n, I want you to make a promise before we get anywhere”

“What”

“Please...don’t ignore me”

You look into his eyes and for once it was like the mask he always wore, of a self-absorbed man slipped away. You were staring into the eyes of a desperately lonely man.

“I promise, but Sam and Bucky can’t know”

Zemo grins, his teeth flashing. “I won’t tell if you don’t”

His lips crash onto yours, hungrily pressing against them. You open your mouth as his tongue explores yours. His hands wander up and down your body, pressing hard against your skin. He roughly grabs your arms and pushes you over to the sink. He picks you up and places you onto it. His lips leave yours, trailing down your jaw and neck.

His fingers venture downwards as well, slipping past the hem of your trousers. He moves them down past your underwear and slips into your private parts. You gasp as his fingers graze over your clit. The feeling sending shivers through you. You can feel Zemo smirking against your skin as he leaves a hickey against your collarbone. You grasp his hair, tugging on it, making him moan into your skin.

He removes his hands from you and grasps a hold of your trousers, pulling them off. He quickly pulls down your underwear while you remove your shirt. You attempt to grasp his bathrobe, but he ducks down.

He slowly parts your thighs, trailing kisses along them as he moves closer to your core. Your legs felt like jelly, as you expected him. He chuckles looking up to you, “So needy for me” he jested before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

You chuck your head back, moaning in pleasure as warmth floods your core. Your hands grasp his hair, holding him tightly as he continues to lick and suck at your clit.

“Be careful Y/n, these rooms are not soundproof” he says, releasing his lips from you but you are beyond the point of caring. You wrap your thighs around his head, pushing back to you.

His fingers touch your core, finding it soaked where they easily slip inside. You moan at the feeling of his fingers stretching you out. He pumps them in and out of you at a rapid rate while his tongue twisted on your clit, eliciting moans out of you.

“Zemo” you gasp as you felt your limit coming. “Zemo I’m going to-” you break off, unable to finish the sentence as you finally release as you see stars.

After a few moments, you are brought back to reality as you can feel Zemo run his tongue up your core drinking you in. He pulls back from you and stands up. His eyes trailing up and down your body as you lie there recovering from your pleasure. “So beautiful” he whispers.

You reach forward, grabbing a hold of his bathrobe and tugging it down his body till he wasn’t covered anymore. He swiftly moves over to a draw, pulling out a condom wrapper. Tearing it open with his mouth, he pulls the condom out and slips it onto himself.

His hands reach out to you, wrapping them around your body, pulling him closer to you. He rests his head on your shoulder as he pushes into you. You moan loudly in his ear as you feel him enter and cling to him, dragging your nails up and down his back. He grunts as he thrusts into you. Moaning as you squeeze your legs tighter for him. He trails kisses on your shoulder, gently biting a part of your skin.

“Y/N” he breathes, pulling back from your shoulder and claiming your lips again.

He pulls back from your lips and smirks at you teasingly, “Are you going to call me daddy again?”

You flush bright red remembering that night, “Damn you” you rasp out

He chuckles, leaning back towards your ear, “I don’t mind if you do”

At that moment he hits a certain spot within you, making you cry out. “There Daddy, please” you gasp and he complies, attempting to hit the spot again within you. His hands sneak back down and rub your clit, making jolts of pleasure run through you.

You feel yourself coming to another release, making you tangle your hands in his hair. You let it all out, seeing stars. After a few more thrusts, Zemo slows down and lets out a moan.

You two stay like that for a few minutes, just holding each other. Eventually, Zemo pulls back, pulling his condom off. He brushes the hair away from your face and gently places a kiss on your lips.

“You were great darling”

Tag list: @ineffablebean

Tagging who asked and showed interest in a sequel: @breakfastatlenas @prestigious-tea

[the-iceni-bitch]

Every Little Thing

Pairing: Colin Shea x fem!Reader

Words: ~4.3k

Summary: You and Colin are two slutty pea in a pod neighbors, but maybe you could be more?

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, f receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex), idiots in love, excessive alcohol consumption, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Ugh, I love Colin and I can’t believe it took me so long to write him. Before I get a bunch of notes about it, they’re gonna realize their feelings eventually but it might take a couple fics because they’re both morons, but they’re pretty morons so it’s fine 😉

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!!!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Oh god, what the fuck was that noise? Why was your phone ringing at 8 AM on a fucking Sunday?

You picked up the offensive object and growled when you got a look at the caller ID.

“Colin, it’s Sunday morning, this had better be really good. I didn’t get home until 4 AM.”

“She won’t fucking leave.” He hissed over the line. “She wants to go out for waffles.”

“I fail to see how this is my problem.” You grumbled, rolling over onto your back and flinging your arm over your eyes. “Just ditch her at the fucking waffle place.”

“C’mon, Y/N, that’s like a second date. What about our deal?” That fucking deal, he definitely benefitted more from it than you did.

“You’re an asshole.” You mumbled, sitting up with an exhausted groan. “Gimme 5 minutes.”

“You’re the best!” You could hear the fucking grin in his voice and rolled your eyes at him.

“Yeah, I fucking know.” You didn’t wait for him to confirm before you hung up on him, stretching your whole body as you moved to put on some clothes.

It only took you a few minutes to pull on some old jeans and a sweatshirt and then you were stomping across the hall to Colin’s apartment, determined to make this as uncomfortable as possible for him. 

“Colin Shea!” You pounded on the door viciously. “This is your wife! I found your little love nest! What hooker do you have in there now?”

You couldn’t help but grin to yourself as you heard a commotion from inside, someone was cursing up a storm and you were pretty sure you heard a couple of slaps.

“I can hear you in there.” You tried to make it sound like you were on the verge of tears. “What about Colin Junior? I’m not raising that baby on my own, you bastard!”

The door slammed open and a very angry looking woman stormed out, shooting a glare over her shoulder and calling Colin a motherfucker as she scurried down the stairs. He came rushing after her with a frustrated look on his face, rubbing the side of his jaw and scowling when he got a look at the shit eating grin on your face.

“My wife?” He asked incredulously, grabbing his hoodie and pulling it over his naked torso as you just continued laughing at him. “That was kinda mean.”

“8 AM on a Sunday, Shea.” You booped his nose with your finger and winked at him before turning to head back to your place. “You wake me up before 10 AM on a weekend and you take what you can get. I’m going back to bed.”

“Wait, Y/N, don’t you wanna have breakfast or something?” He jogged after you, ignoring the glower you shot him as you opened your door. “I’ll make you my famous eggs.”

“Did you not hear me when I said I got in at 4 AM?” You frowned at him when he kept you from closing your front door. “Colin, quit being so clingy. If I wanted to have breakfast with some annoying dude I would’ve actually brought that lawyer from last night home.”

“A lawyer, huh?” He was giving you one of those stupid looks that he typically reserved for girls he was trying to bang but that he definitely knew didn’t work on you. “And that didn’t even do it for you.”

“I mean, I still rode that beard for a good hour, but he was super depressing.” You kept knocking your door against his foot with an annoyed air. “Which is why I need to sleep, so get out of my fucking doorway.”

“Fine, we’re hanging out later though!” He called as you slammed the door in his face.

You just ripped off your clothes and crawled back into bed, burying your face in your pillows and cursing the sun as you did your best to fall back asleep.

It must have happened at some point, because you woke up six hours later with a mouth full of cotton and absolutely drenched in sweat. Why was it so fucking hot?

The pillow case tried to come with your face when you rolled out of the bed and you threw it away from you with a huff as you padded to inspect your air conditioner. 

It wasn’t on. You knelt in front of it and whined as you tried flicking it off and on and nothing happened. This could not be happening, not with summer just about to start. It was supposed to be in the 90s today. No matter what you tried, it didn’t turn on. Granted, all you tried was unplugging it and plugging it back in, but that always worked with your computer.

The call to the repair company was no luck, they were closed for the weekend. This was going to suck, you fucking hated being hot. You moved to your kitchen to try to find some way to cool off after opening every damn window in your place to hopefully get some kind of air circulation going.

That’s when you spotted it. 

The frozen margarita machine you had bought on an absinthe fueled online shopping spree and never gotten around to returning. It was like a little miracle right there in your kitchen, designed to help you cool off and get drunk so you could forget about how fucking hot it was while you did the week’s worth of chores you had been procrastinating.

You hummed happily when that first gulp of frozen tequila goodness slid down your throat, and maybe you shouldn’t have chugged the whole thing but who fucking cared, it was hot. Time flew by as you downed those things like it was your fucking job, scrubbing your pots and pans and singing little songs to yourself.

Music started drifting through your open windows but you barely registered it even as you started singing along because it was Queen and how could you not.

It was the third time you had filled that margarita machine and you were feeling fantastic, dancing around your kitchen as you continued cleaning your dishes. Whoever was playing music was still going strong and you began belting when they started doing Seven Seas of Rhye.

“You are mine, I possess you, I belong to you foreveeeEEER!”

“Hey, Y/N!”

Your badass high note devolved into a shriek and you turned to chuck the cup you were holding at the intruder on the fire escape, cursing when you saw it was Colin. He managed to duck out of the way at the last second with a muttered fuck and you sighed as you watched your mug sail over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Shea, that was my favorite mug!” You pouted, stamping your foot a little and taking another gulp of your margarita. “What the fuck are you doing on my fire escape?”

He gave you a stupid cocky grin as he watched to try to lean on one hand on your counter and almost go down when you missed it at the last second.

“Are you drunk, honey?” Fuck him for calling you honey, that wiley asshole. “We could hear you singing from the roof.”

“I’m just a little buzzed.” You hiccupped. “Who’s we?”

“My band.” He crawled into your apartment and caught you when you tripped over your own feet again, still grinning at you like an idiot. “The ones you were singing along with.”

“That was your band?” You had never realized how blue his eyes were. “You guys sound great!”

“Yeah, you sound pretty good yourself.” He grabbed the cup you were holding and gave it a sniff, coughing a little before he set it on the counter. “Maybe you should come hang out with us instead of drinking what I think is blended jet fuel and ice all by yourself.”

“If I’m gonna hang out with you guys I think I should bring a pitcher of margs.” He was really fucking pretty, had you noticed that before? “Don’t wanna be a bad hostess.”

“Oh, baby, you’re wasted.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear and you felt your chest flutter a little bit. “No more margs for you. Come sing with us while you sober up. No, no.” He pulled you back when you tried to crawl out the window and started dragging you towards your door. “Ladder doesn’t really seem like a good idea right now, let’s take the stairs.”

You tossed your head back as you laughed, slapping his chest while you leaned heavily on him and let him guide you through the hall and to the stairs to the roof. Those were some firm pecs, you were a little marvelled at the way your palm just bounced right off so you slapped it again.

“Wow.” It was like your hand was moving independently from your brain as you gave him a pretty brazen squeeze. “Your tits are fantastic, Colin.”

“Holy shit, Y/N!” He was laughing hysterically when he shoved the door to the roof open. “Your drunk game is on point sweetie. Guys, this is Y/N, the killer vocals you heard from downstairs. She’s a little tipsy.”

They introduced themselves and you promptly forgot all of their names, your hand trailing down Colin’s chest until you could press it against his abs. This was getting weird, it’s not like you hadn’t seen him naked before. But seeing and touching were apparently two very different things.

“We still doing Queen, boys?” You said, finally tearing your eyes away from Colin after poking him in the bellybutton and grinning when he made a noise like the Pillsbury doughboy. “Cos I’m good with whatever.”

“What about some Journey?” He slung his SG over his shoulder and watched you carefully as you grabbed the mike one of his bandmates was handing you. “You wanna sit down, hon?”

“Don’t call me hon, sweetheart.” You teased, giving him a wink and tapping the mike a couple of times. “I’ll be fine. Journey feels a little basic but ok. Faithfully or Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’?”

That grin he gave you should not have been affecting you like this, maybe you did have too many margaritas. The bassist started playing the opening riff to Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’ and your grin got even wider, your hips moving to the beat as you kept your eyes on Colin. You laughed happily when he joined in with the guitar part, joining in after the piano had done its thing and losing yourself in the music.

He could not take his eyes off of you, he was pretty sure you’d never been this fucking cheerful around him before. Not that you were especially grumpy or anything, or that your typical dry wit didn’t immediately endear you to him. But seeing you with that goofy grin as you sang every fucking Journey song they had in their roster until the sun set was not helping the already prodigious crush he had on you. 

Now the two of you were sitting on the couch he had dragged up there months ago and watching his bandmates pack up their gear, saying goodbye to each of them as they headed down the stairs and left you two to lean against each other and sigh happily. You had your legs flung over his lap as he plucked at his guitar strings lazily, kicking your feet slowly and leaning back on the sofa as you watched him closely and sipped on a bottle of water.

“You ever do any actual performing, honey?” He asked, his fingers running over your calf absentmindedly. “Cos with that voice you could probably line up some gigs.”

“Just karaoke.” You murmured. You were definitely sobering up now, but you were still hyper aware of his hands on your skin and it was giving you some feelings you weren’t totally sure about. “Lemme see that thing.”

“What?” He gave a little huff when you grabbed the neck of his guitar and pulled it into your lap. “Baby, do not tell me you play.”

“I mean, it’s been a little while, but I think I remember a couple chords.” You gave him another grin and his chest started to hurt.

“Jesus, a couple chords?” He laughed to cover the absolutely filthy sound he almost made when you started playing, it was like he had made you on a computer. “Honey, that’s Led Zeppelin.”

“Yeah, but it’s easy Zeppelin.” You teased, turning your body so you could lean against his chest and not missing the low rumble you felt when you tucked your head against his shoulder. “It’s Coda.”

“Uh-huh.” Being this close to you was doing something to him, he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to smell your hair. 

“Why haven’t we slept together, Col?” Fuck it, you might as well do this.

He choked on the water he was drinking, turning his face so he didn’t spit it all over you as you stopped your playing and grinned at him.

“I seem to remember giving it a good try when you moved in.” He managed to get himself under control and turned his face back to you. “But you said you had a rule about not fucking people who live in the same building as you. Something about not shitting where you eat.”

“That’s about sex with coworkers.” You said, scrunching your face up as you tried to remember what your exact justification had been.

“Which is what I told you.” He tried to scoot away from you but you followed after him. “To which you replied, ‘doesn’t matter, not gonna happen’.”

“Huh, that seems awful short-sighted of me.” You scooted closer again and this time he let you. “C’mon, we’ve fucked almost everyone else in this city, we’d have gotten to each other eventually anyways.”

“Jesus, what a romantic sentiment.” He was trying to focus real hard on his softeners, but they weren’t working with you squirming against him like that. “You really want to do this?”

“I mean, I think we’d enjoy it.” You set his guitar aside and turned so your chest was pressed to his. “It’s not like we’re gonna catch feels, or anything. Just gonna see what all the fuss is about.”

“Right.” Maybe this would get his little crush out of his system. “Let’s not do it on the roof, though.”

“God, no. My place?” You stood up and started heading towards the fire escape.

“Yeah, ok.” He watched you climb down to your apartment before sliding down the ladder after you like the damn frat boy he was.

As soon as he climbed in the window you were dragging him towards you, swallowing his tiny cry of surprise when you pulled his mouth to yours. His lips were unbelievably soft against your own, and when he opened up and stroked your tongue with his? 

Fuck.

“Shit, Colin.” You purred when he started trailing his lips down your throat. “I feel like maybe we should’ve done this sooner.”

“Yeah, maybe.” His voice was muffled as his mouth moved to your chest, one hand moving to hook under the neckline of your camisole and pulling on it until your breasts popped out. “Well fuck me. No wonder you know so much about fantastic tits.”

You laughed at that, arching into his face and grinning down at him as he buried his face between your tits and gazed at you through his lashes. Those stupid, long as all fuck lashes that were brushing against your skin as he mouthed at your soft curves. 

“Jesus, fuck.” You wound your fingers through his hair when he dragged his tongue over your nipple, tugging on it softly and guiding him further into your apartment. “God, you really know how to use that mouth of yours, sweetie.”

“Oh, honey, you don’t even know.” He teased, moving his face back to yours and lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he started carrying you towards your bedroom.  “You wanna find out, though?”

“You tease all the girls you fuck this much?” You nipped at his lips and grinned when he moaned into your mouth, reaching behind you to open the door to your bedroom. 

“Nah, that’s just for you, baby.” He cooed, giving you a quick peck on the lips before dropping you on the bed with a huff.

Every place his fingers touched sent a jolt of heat through your body straight to your core, your eyes never leaving his as he started kissing and nipping his way down your torso after pulling your cami over your head. He grinned against your thigh when you moaned after he yanked your shorts down your legs, sucking a soft bruise into your flesh before rubbing his face over your clothed core and inhaling deeply.

You throbbed under his lips as he pressed gentle kisses over the fabric that covered your mound, hooking your legs over his shoulders and trying to grind into him when he tugged at your panties with his teeth and let them snap back into place teasingly. His fingers skimmed up your legs until he could hook them under the band of your panties and drag them off you, sighing heavily when he settled back between your thighs and got a good look at you.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He spread you apart with his fingers and flicked his tongue out to run over your slit softly, moaning when he finally tasted you. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You ran your fingers through his hair and beamed at him, rolling your hips against his face when he sucked your pussy lips into his mouth with a low hum.

Colin chuckled into your cunt at that, pressing gentle kisses all over your soft folds before dragging his tongue over you in a heavy stripe. Your body reacted immediately when he reached your clit, your back arching off the bed and your legs curling around his neck as he repeated the same process but at a much slower pace. 

Two of his fingers slid inside you as he wrapped his lips around your clit and you keened, gripping his hair by the roots and tugging hard when he started stretching you open while his lips drove you wild. The rhythm of his suction and release matched the curling of his fingers inside you and made you want to scream, your free hand reaching above your head and digging hard into your pillow as your body tried to rise off the bed when he brought you right to the edge of your peak right away. 

“Col, Colin, oh fuck.” He felt like your thighs were gonna suffocate him but those sounds you were making for him had him past the point of caring about a silly thing like oxygen. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Your whole body seized against his face as you let out a gorgeous fluttering moan, soaking his lips and chin in your release as he hummed with satisfaction into your pussy. He sat up when you finally released him, removing his clothes in a rush as he watched you pant underneath him and run your tongue over your lips. God, you were fucking beautiful, he couldn’t believe he’d waited so long to do this.

Before you had a chance to say anything he was hooking your knee over his elbow and thrusting into you, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth motion and releasing his breath in a thin hiss when he felt your satiny walls flutter around him. 

“Ah, fuck, you feel amazing.” He ducked his face to catch your lips with his before pulling back with a groan. “Shit, I forgot a condom. Uh, I’m clean, just got tested last week.”

“God, you’re fine sweetie.” You brought a hand up to cup his jaw and ran a thumb over his cheek in a soothing gesture. “Also clean and I have an IUD, so we’re peachy. I am a little mad at you though.”

“Yeah, why?” He wasn’t too worried, you were still grinning at him as he started moving his hips slowly.

“Well, Jesus, fuck, you’re big.” You almost lost your train of thought when he tilted your hips just a bit and his cock hit you deep. “I usually like to reciprocate oral, sweetie. I barely even got a look at what you’re packing down there.”

“You’ve seen it before.” He groaned when you wrapped your free leg around his hips and rolled your body against his.

“Just glances though.” You gripped his biceps and dug your nails in, biting your lip as he continued dragging his length over every inch of you at an agonizing pace. “And never hard.”

“Honey, there’s no way I’m pulling out for you to take a good look so you’re gonna have to make due.” He teased, grinding against your clit and grinning when your eyes fluttered closed.

“Fine.” You huffed, frowning a little before winking at him. “We’re switching then.”

“What?”

You didn’t answer, just giving him a cocky grin and gripping his hips with your thighs. One quick move and he was under you, a small sound of surprise leaving his lips when you were suddenly straddling his hips and grinning down at him.

“Oh yeah, that’s better.” You placed one palm on the center of his chest and curled your fingers through his chest hair as you rose up on your knees before sinking down again nice and slow, loving the low groan you felt reverberate in his chest when you clenched around him. “Good for you, Col?”

“Yes, yeah, s’ good.” He was completely mesmerized by you, his eyes trailing over your body as you arched your back and continued to ride him. 

The way he was reacting to you was making it hard for you to focus on what you were doing, his eyes soft and relaxed on yours and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he slowly moved his hips to meet your own. You could’ve lost yourself in those eyes if you really wanted to.

Shit, none of that.

His fingers started trailing up your sides when he fucked up into you suddenly and he lost it at the way your tits bounced for him, sitting up with a whine and nuzzling into your chest before wrapping his lips around your nipple as he started bucking wildly.

“Shit, fuck, Colin.” He was hitting your cervix with each punch of his hips and it was taking all your self control to not pass out from how hard he was railing you, wrapping your legs around him and dragging your lips over his jaw. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come again.”

“Yeah? Good.” He cupped your jaw and brought your face back to his, tugging at your lips with his teeth while he gazed into your eyes. “I wanna watch your face while you come.”

You kept your eyes open and trained on his, worrying his bottom lip with your teeth and resting your forehead against his as you felt a warm coil gathering in the pit of your stomach. It was like you were falling into those lust blown pools as he took you apart, your lips crashing against his as the coil snapped and you gasped his name into his mouth. 

The feeling of your entire body fluttering around him was too much, and he followed you with a low growl. He muttered your name under his breath as he spilled his cum inside you, holding you close to his chest and rubbing his nose against yours.

You fell on top of him when he collapsed back against the bed, the two of you laughing breathlessly as you tangled your limbs and molded your lips together before pulling back and gazing at each other some more. Both of you lost yourselves for just a beat, your chests heaving against each other’s before disconnecting and rolling off the bed in two opposite directions as you did your best to compose yourselves.

“I’d say you definitely earned all those screams I’ve heard coming from your apartment, Shea.” You teased, trying your best to lighten the mood and not dwell on the desire you had to ask him to spend the night. 

“Yeah, well I’ve always thought so.” He was avoiding looking at you as much as possible, searching the room for his clothes and fighting the urge to pull you back into the bed and snuggle with you. “Have you seen my converse?”

“Yeah, here.” You shoved his shoes at him after pulling an oversized tee over your head. “Well, I’ve got work in the morning, so…”

“Right, I’ll, um, I’ll talk to you later, I guess.” He shuffled towards your front door and pulled it open before leaning back to look at you one more time. “You can join us for band practice any time, by the way.”

“That would be great.” That smile you were giving him made him feel like his heart was going to break. “I promise not to be sloppy drunk next time.”

“Aww, drunk Y/N was pretty fun, but ok.” He winked at you then left in a hurry, slamming the door behind him. 

You fell back on your bed and ran your hands over your face in frustration, hating yourself for coming up with this stupid idea because now all you wanted was to have breakfast with that beautiful idiot tomorrow after sleeping on top of his chest.

“Goddamn it.”

Colin grabbed himself a beer when he got back to his apartment and chugged it, sinking into one of his barstools and considering the fact that he was absolutely not over his crush after everything the two of you had just done.

“Shit.”

TAGS!!!! (If your name is scored it won’t let me tag you, check your privacy settings!!)

@slothspaghettiwrites@captain-asguard@starlightcrystalline@harrysthiccthighss@bonkywobble@chubbybuckydumpling@blackestpinkworld@egcdeath@wanderinglunarnights@wandering-spiritash@bval-1@chris-butt@badbleep88@shutupstevie@muzzyandbusy@sizzie9@isysen@babyb3ar@wanderingalice00@whxre4cevans@kaleeelizabeth58@angrybirdcr@unsaltedalmonds@amerikakapitanyy@lizette50@patzammit@dwights-new-plague@tenaciousperfectionunknown@daughterofthenight117@obsessivereaderchick@before-we-get-started@missmintyross@mariaenchanted@Marvel-baby@iwanttobekilledtwice@banditmarkymark@wayward-blonde@travistheaussie@thiskindahotkindamusic@stan-all-the-things@roleplaytaboo@jnkyrds@oops-aquarius@riemasonline@superoopuniverse @ethereal-beaut-y@Lex-Is-Up-All-Night-To-Get-Bucky@ambthegamer@tapouttt34@hobbitingryffindor@gudenuph@hevans-angel@rose-m22@jennmurawski13@dumb-ass-writer@kristopbishta@haleemah@yippikaiyaymotherfucker@violet-amxthyst@Thatzolagirl@misshale21@Chamorritaluv@ellefran@pinkdiamond1016@nonamenatalia@katexrichardson@aliceforbes@hornyhoursonly@tvckerlance@xoxabs88xox@phantompogues@ke1084299@ghotifishreads@chloehn@sherlocksmanwatson@partiesandblurrypolaroids@bwbatta@cherrychris@acceptyourselfloveyourself@itstaylorcale@miriamkb@needleandhammer@xoxonotme@Sunny223456@moments-tattoos-on-my-mind@thatsthewrongwallcraig@l-sofiamia-l@lemarvelsimpette@old-enough-to-know-better73@smokeandnailz@loverofaccents@inactivewhore@sohoseb@NINJA Q-TIP@amelia-song-pond@everything-is-all-clear@weasleytwins-41@avada-kedavra-bitch-187@girlwhofans@littlezombie666@xmusictodiebyx@moony-is-bae@mogaruke@nymariel@inmoix@sebastianstanswifey@jeremyrennermakesmesmile@jbreenr@glassesandthunderthighs@aerialclouds@mrs-kcathrb@rosalynshields@littlezombie666@malloryknoxx@hoseokmylovesworld@shynerdystudent@lharrietg@chrisevanseditsworld@dreck-t@Lisafrers@kaitieskidmore1@jane-doe6@vintagepigeon@cece5@brxttybottom@ntthuyy25@sweetcupcakegirl@nathalienight@lululuci-allonsy@umadirectioner@ice-dtae@chrisjaay@drabblewithfrannybarnes @stargazingfangirl18@jack-skellingtons-stuff@chrissquares@msmarvelwrites@sweeterthanthis@gotnofucks@ozarkthedog@thefallenbibliophilequote@a-little-counter-esperanto@afriendlyblackhottie@cockslut-padalecki@gracechristo@ghotifishreads@tossacoin2yourwitcher@angry-angelic@grumpyashhh@fckdeusername@toni9@girlfriday007@starrybrock@simpcitylolz@weasleytwins-41@millennial-teenybopper@mochionly@archy3001@madbaddic7ed@yeolliedokai@I-lie-here-charmed