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asimplearchivist · 1 year ago

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𝓐 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓷𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓛𝓲𝓯𝓮

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ] [ AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST ] summary ✨ ⤏ Eliana Kouros is at the end of her rope. She hopes that the yearly tradition of camping in Eterna Forest's sprawling wilds will help to clear her head, but her life takes another turn beyond anything that she could ever have expected. pairing(s) ✨ [none] word count ✨ 3.6k a/n ✨ [divider credit] ⤏ A prologue of sorts that I decided to scrap from the main story, but I was a little too fond of the introduction to discard it completely, so I figured that I could post it separately instead to give it its own spotlight. :)

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

The doorknob was jammed. Again.

“‘Oh, no, I fixed it last weekend while you were out working!’” Eliana muttered, pitching her voice low in her throat to mock her notoriously inattentive landlord. She shoved the key into the slot, jimmying it just enough for the grooves to catch the deadbolt’s worn teeth, and twisted it roughly. The lock finally gave, and she twisted the knob to pull the heavy door open. Pulling the ring free was another matter entirely, and she was red in the face by the time she shuffled into the dimly lit apartment and allowed her bag to slide from her shoulder to drop heavily onto the floor.

Eliana’s roommate, dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and a hoodie worn backward, looked up from the book sprawled across her lap, her glasses perched on the edge of her nose and blonde curls framing her face. Her partner Budew was snuggled into the hood draped over her chest, already dormant for the night. She raised a tawny brow. “Damn, girl, you look like shit.”

“Thank you, Eireanne,” Eliana sighed in response. She kicked off her boots, placed them on the rack, and trudged over to sink onto the cushion next to her roommate. “I feel like shit.”

Eireanne placed a bookmark between the pages and pressed the book closed, leaning forward and setting it on the coffee table while cupping the bud Pokémon with her free hand so she wouldn’t be jostled and disturbed. “What happened?”

“What happened?” Eliana scoffed. “What didn’t happen?” She sank back into the couch and slung her arm over her eyes. “I’m not stupid, right? I went to university, got the parchment with the shiny seal, and got the job of my dreams. I spent years of my life working up to this, gave that place my all—even worked overtime without once complaining about the lack of pay—but what happens when the profit margins drop because of their nepotistic hiring tendencies towards people whose books they can’t be bothered to check for embezzlement? I get dropped! Laid off! Because who the hell needs job security, right?” Eliana let out a manic little laugh, smothering her face in her hands. “Not me, whose family warned her not to go into this field in the first place! Not me, who had to pay her own way all through school by picking up coins off the street while barely dodging debt! Not me, who was saving up to finally buy a house!”

“Damn,” Eireanne echoed, rubbing a sympathetic hand along Eliana’s rigid shoulder, “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that—not after all the work you put into it. Did they just say ‘sorry, not sorry’ or did they give you some bullshit excuse?”

“‘The projections of our future plans do not have enough room to include you,’” Eliana quoted bitterly. “What does that even mean? I was holding down the entire horticultural department! They’re not going to know the first thing about taking care of those Pokémon!”

“Maybe they’ll come crawling back with an apology?” Eireanne suggested, perched on the edge of her seat with a tight frown. “Of course…you probably wouldn’t want to go back there after this. Are you going to file a lawsuit?”

“With what money, Ren?” Eliana groaned. “It’s justified on their end—I’m sure they’ve created a paper trail to justify it.”

“I’ve got a buddy I know from university who specializes in this kind of stuff,” the other woman suggested. “I could give you his number. He’ll get you all sorted out.”

“Maybe,” Eliana sighed. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Eireanne stood up and wandered into their tiny kitchen, voice raised to reach around the corner. “Are you still going on our trip tomorrow? I know you’ve been really looking forward to getting out of Alamos Town.”

“Shit,” she groaned, sitting up and running her fingers through her hair. “I completely forgot, after all of that.”

“I’m sure the guys would understand,” Eireanne assured her, coming back into the main room with two plates piled high with steaming food. “We could rain check for next weekend maybe, give you some time to readjust. You’re obviously upset.”

“No, I’m not going to flake on all of you after we’ve been planning this all summer. Our…well, your work schedules are crazy as it is. It’ll be another three months before we can reorganize it. Besides, I’ve already packed for it—it’ll be a pain in the ass to take it all back out of the bag.”

“Whatever you say,” Eireanne responded, placing the plate in the botanist’s lap. “Sounds like you need a glass of wine, yeah?”

“I’d kill a man for a whole bottle,” Eliana responded dryly, surveying the array of roasted, herbal poultry, sautéed, honeyed root vegetables, and mulled, spiced pears. “This looks divine, Ren. You need a taste tester in that fancy restaurant of yours? My schedule’s suddenly opened up.”

Eireanne laughed quietly, set her own plate on the table, and wandered back into the kitchen. “I’ll have to ask Richard if a position’s available. I’m not sure you’d be all that good of a judge, though—you think everything I cook is good.”

“Because it is!” Eliana dove in, going for the pears first. The fork sank into the flesh like butter, releasing notes of cloves and cinnamon. “You’ve never made anything I haven’t liked.”

“Taste-testers have to have a refined palate, I’m afraid, so we can actually figure out what to serve. Our menu would be a mile long if you had your say.”

“And nobody would complain one bit,” Eliana retorted around a mouthful of fruit, lashes fluttering as the flavors burst over her tongue. “But I understand. Most people are too picky to enjoy the simpler things in life.”

A glass of rosé was set in front of her, and Eireanne sank down into her seat once more. “I can take of a couple of days soon,” she suggested, “if you want to go on a girl’s trip or something. I heard Snowpoint’s already had their first snowfall this year.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Eliana sighed, swallowing and chasing it with the sweet wine. “I’ll be fine, really. I can start job searching next week.”

“Are you going to tell your folks?”

“Why would I?” Eliana snorted. “They’ve never helped me before. They wanted me to be a coordinator so bad, and…well. You already know. That I actually wanted to be a scientist without entering the competitive field was unfathomable to them.”

“I know.” Eireanne grabbed the remote and chose the most recent episode of Sinnoh’s yearly regional baking competition—something mindless that the both of them enjoyed after dealing with people all day. “If you need some pocket money, just let me know. I got my bonus and a raise for next year.”

“I’ve got enough saved up to last me a while, but thank you.” Eliana leaned back and stuffed a softened carrot into her mouth. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

“You’ll figure it out, girl.” Eireanne nudged Eliana’s arm with her elbow. “You never know what’s around the corner—this may be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. It’s just hard to tell right now.”

“Maybe so.” Eliana squinted at the television. “He’s not putting eggs in his dough.”

“Oh, no,” Eireanne groaned. “He’s misremembered his substitutes.”

“He’s doomed.”

“Agreed. Let’s see if the thing will even hold together.”

“Doubt it. Bet a ten?”

“Sure.”

“There’s our girls!” called Cal, beaming as he waved wildly from his seat by the campfire already merrily crackling away.

“You don’t have to announce it to the entire forest!” Eireanne laughed, complexion darkening as she returned his smile.

Eliana rolled her eyes. The two had been dancing around each other ever since senior year, and she was half-tempted to hogtie them together until they figured out the fact that they were undeniably devoted to each other. “If they haven’t heard you guys cackling, anyway. I’m surprised all the Pokémon haven’t hunted you down to shut you up.”

Bradley and Derrick both laughed at Cal’s grumpy frown, standing up to help the girls with their packs.

“Glad you could make it,” said Bradley, eyes twinkling as he poked Eliana’s sternum. “I was worried you’d bail on us after getting the axe.”

“Brad!” Eireanne scolded. “I told you not to bring it up!”

“What? Were we supposed to dance around it the whole time?” he asked indignantly. “It was bound to come up eventually!”

“Ren, it’s fine,” Eliana said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t bother me.”

Eireanne’s skeptical face was sufficient to express her doubt, likely recalling the fact that Eliana had cried in the shower that morning thinking about the fact that she wouldn’t get to interact with the Pokémon in the arboretum anymore, but she was gracious enough not to bring it up in front of the guys.

“And,” Eliana added, addressing the three men, “you don’t have to give me any pity. Let’s just acknowledge it and move on.”

“Still,” Derrick said somberly, “it sucks. I can name at least three people they should’ve let go before you should have even been considered. I could talk to my boss to see if you could get a job at the clinic—we could always use some more hands.”

“Let me see what I can find first, then I’ll start asking for nonrepayable favors,” Eliana responded. She gestured to the campsite—it seemed that they had already gotten busy crafting the lean-to’s to protect their tents. “What else needs to be done?”

“We could use some more firewood,” said Cal, scratching his chin. “I could loan you my Machoke to help carry it.”

“No, thank you, I’m good.” Eliana slipped her satchel off her shoulder, pulled out her work belt, and buckled it around her waist before loading her bush crafting tools into the hooks. “Holler if you need anything else, I’m heading for that dead clearing like usual.”

“Whatever you say,” Cal waved her off, turning to Eireanne. “Please tell me you brought food. We forgot.”

“You boys are helpless,” sighed the blonde.

“We got distracted by the girl that walks the dog-Pokémon for our block,” Bradley said plainly, resulting in Derrick smacking his shoulder.

Eliana thought that falling back into the rhythm of camping in the middle of Eterna Forest would afford her some peace of mind, but even in the relative silence of the woods, her mind wouldn’t shut off. She was able to work off some of her anger by splitting wood, thankfully, drawing the eyes of wild, curious Pokémon—she couldn’t see them, but she felt their gazes and heard their quiet chattering under the whispering wind and the burbling creek a stone’s throw through the trees.

The evening passed in normalcy, the others eventually letting out their Pokémon to enjoy the great outdoors. Cal’s Machoke, his partner in crime, had a great time stacking the chopped log Eliana lugged back, while Cal regaled his latest misadventures as a personal trainer at the gym in Veilstone. Bradley had moved up in the world—his specialization in Pokémon nutrition afforded him a rather lofty position at a kibble testing and production facility in Jubilife, and his Luxray was living the good life sampling each new prototype (and had gained about fifteen pounds in doing so). Derrick’s clinic in Solaceon was steady with a well-established clientele, and his passion for rehabilitating injured Pokémon leaked through his technical terminology—his Blissey had tried several times already to cuddle up to Eliana, but she wasn’t in the mood to entertain the happiness Pokémon’s fussy instincts.

Several hours after supper, everyone cleaned up and retired to bed—but after another hour or so of tossing and turning, Eliana gave up trying to sleep. She grabbed her pack and slipped out of her tent as quietly as she could—the others’ Pokémon were all curled into a pile next to the embers, with Eireanne’s Budew in the center looking as happy as ever.

Eliana gritted her teeth and picked her way into the woods. It was a foolish thing to do, to leave without letting one of the others know, but this wasn’t the first time she’d done this and it wouldn’t likely be the last. She knew the paths as well as the back of her hand by this point, after years of returning to the same location and adventuring all around the forest and mountainside.

Within fifteen minutes she found her favorite spot—where the creek flowed into a sprawling lake that reflected the glittering array of stars scattered overhead. The moon was full and glowing, casting shadows across the ebbing shore. If Eliana squinted she’d be able to spot the nocturnal Pokémon lingering on the edges of the water, hunting and playing. She couldn’t count the number of times that the local Misdreavus population had gotten a kick of out scaring the shit out of her—but their little keks of satisfaction were more endearing than she’d ever readily admit.

Eliana found a wave-smoothed boulder and sat on the gravelly shore against it, feeling the tension ease out of her body the longer she listened to the chirruping of nearby Kricketunes with their Kricketot orchestras. The water rippled as the fish Pokémon lipped its surface in search of insect Pokémon unfortunate enough to rest there for too long. It was as serene a scene as she could conceivably find, and without the gazes of the others weighing her down, she could finally relax.

She reached under her sweatshirt and pulled out the delicate chain that rested against her clavicle, eyes resting upon the bronze nametag dangling in the mercurial light. The sight of it didn’t immediately bring tears to her eyes like it used to, but the melancholic heaviness that had since replaced them gripped her heart. She folded it into her palm and pressed it against her chest, closing her eyes and tilting her head back against the boulder briefly. “I still miss you, sweet thing. I hope you know that.”

Many people could deal with the loss of their childhood partner by capturing, buying, or being gifted another Pokémon—but Eliana had never quite been able to allow herself to grow attached again. She’d been so heartbroken by losing her first that she had never wanted to experience that loss ever again, although the accidental circumstances surrounding the situation had likely made a far more lasting impact than it would have otherwise. She didn’t think poorly of people who had the fortitude to move on—one never truly stopped grieving (unless he or she was heartless, anyway), only had to let love grow around it—she admired them, truly. Perhaps she was a coward for closing herself off, but self-preservation was something that had always been ingrained in her.

Her parents had seen to all her needs growing up and had promised to support her, but only as long as she’d shown promise as a Pokémon trainer—they’d eventually decided that she should follow her older sister’s path of becoming a Pokémon coordinator, seeing as Anaile found so much success in her career, but Eliana hadn’t understood the appeal of it. At first, they’d backed off, thinking that she’d choose to pursue the league championship instead—but once Eliana had professed her intention of pursuing science instead, they’d shut her out.

Eliana had come to terms with it by now. Anaile still called her occasionally to keep in touch, not knowing what happened to drive such a rift between their parents and her little sister, but Eliana hadn’t spoken to them since she’d moved to Alamos Town to attend its university. With as high of grades as she’d gotten in high school, scholarships weren’t difficult to come by—and they were likely the lifeline that had kept her afloat, trying to keep a roof over her head and food in her fridge with the money she made working on the side.

Still. Being one of the only people who didn’t have at least one Pokémon made her stand out—and not necessarily in a good way. Too many strangers found it far too comfortable to pry into the reasons why she didn’t have a partner, although she could deal with the ones usually pertaining to phobias or lack of opportunities. Occasionally she had to shut down the conversation when they hit a button too close to home.

That was partly why she had been grateful to work in the relative privacy of the lab or her office—the public was only allowed to visit the arboretum and the indoor botanical garden, so, most of the time (unless she had been forced to give tours or presentations), she never had to speak to anyone save her coworkers, who had learned early on not to delve into that topic of conversation.

It wasn’t that she no longer held any affection for Pokémon—far from it, in fact, seeing as she had grown quite fond of the inhabitants of the research facility—but she couldn’t stand to entertain the thought of subjecting herself to losing another partner.

A flicker of light against her eyelids caused Eliana to crack them open, squinting across the surface of the lake for any signs of life she had missed in her initial visual sweep. There were alpha Pokémon that lived this far into the woods, and visitors were always cautioned to give them a wide berth—although the arguably more dangerous ilk of the sort, like Lopunny or Dustox, only came out during the day, Mismagius and Honchkrow could pose a danger to an unwitting, sleepy bystander at an hour like this. Closer to camp, with a Machoke, Luxray, and Blissey on guard (because Eireanne’s Budew was still considerably frail for its age), most wild Pokémon would know better than to stir up trouble unless intentionally posing a challenge to one of the trainers.

Nothing of the sort caught her eye. A Mismagius’ moves could cause tricks of the eye, but she wasn’t even getting a glimpse of that. All was perfectly peaceful.

Eliana frowned, readjusting more comfortably in her spot. Shrouded in shadow for the most part, it would be difficult for the average Pokémon to spot her, so she let her eyes drift shut once more, breathing in the cool lakeshore air while listening to the quiet symphony surrounding her.

She would never be able to tell at what point that she fell asleep.

Eliana had never been much of a dreamer.

That was precisely why she found it extremely unusual to become aware of the fact that she was asleep, that she was dreaming, and that she retained full control of her thoughts, movements, and actions within the landscape trapped inside of her mind.

Lucidity was something that many people strove, sometimes nightly, to achieve while they slept for the sake of the fantastical whimsy with which they would play in the boundless capabilities of the human mind, so perhaps she should have felt grateful for the opportunity—but she had always thought that it sounded exhausting. It was difficult enough to feel well-rested even with unlimited hours available to her schedule on the weekends, much less having to endure a full night while still conscious.

Eliana frowned as she peered into the vast and endless expanse submerging her weightless body. She floated, listless, slowly spinning on an axis tethered to an undetectable center of gravity. That she could still breathe and that she could feel her heart thrumming beneath her chest proved both that she was not in space nor dead, which had been the first two explanations that had surfaced in her rousing, delayed thoughts, as absurd as the concepts were—that it was a dream could be the only reasonable explanation.

It would help if the scenery were a little more lively, even still—dreams were vibrant and senseless, not…empty voids lacking sight and sound, at least according to her limited experiences. She couldn’t name the subject matter that her child self had awoken with dancing just on the edge of recollection, but she knew that something wasn’t quite right about any of this.

A glimmer of light in her peripheral caused her to turn and throw out her arms in an attempt to balance herself. The free-falling sensation only worsened as golden light began to sparkle around her like a meteor shower, dazzling her eyes and causing her to cover her face to protect them. Tinkling starbursts filled her ears, and when she dared to peer out from between her fingers, she saw the light culminating into a massive shape a stone’s throw away. She watched as a quadruped formed there, an aureola emanating from what could only have been a Pokémon with a halo at its back. Its piercing eyes, colorless yet iridescent, peered at her in the dark, gauging.

Eliana stilled, feeling her body get caught in its unseen grip—she knew better than to antagonize an unfamiliar Pokémon—but something about its silhouette was…familiar to her, somehow, as though she’d seen it before.

It uttered not a sound as it looked at her, as though gazing into her very soul. Then, finally, it dipped its great head, the crest bobbing with the motion—and the light intensified, streaks of shimmering gold circling her and enveloping her in a wall of energy that caused every hair on her body to stand on end, frissons rocketing over her flesh despite the warmth of her clothes.

Then, at once, she careened downward into the vast, empty void below.

#fisara's codices #pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon mystery dungeon explorers #pokemon mystery dungeon explorers of sky #explorers of sky #pmd #pmd explorers #pmd eos #pmd2 #pmd 2 #original female character(s)#ao3: in the morning light

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platoniclokiimagines · 3 years ago

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Could you do a fic where reader has a massive migraine and loki is just there helping them feel better and yknow just being like all parenty

A/N: ....sorry for disappearing for, like, ever. I got COVID mid-July, and am only just now feeling clear enough in my brain to focus on writing and editing, so have this fic that I’ve been working on for literally a month. Thanks for hanging in there!

WC: 1504

Rating: G

TW: None

You heaved a sigh, picking up your pillow and putting it over your head, as though the fabric and feathers would block out every bit of sound and light that was currently making you feel as though you’d been hit by a train that kept looping back around to run you over again and again.

It wasn’t often that you got migraines. You’d never had them with the same consistency that you knew some people did, nor were they something you’d ever particularly been worried about when discussing with a doctor at physicals or exams, but when they did occur… It was rough.

This particular migraine, you’d decided, had already taken the cake for the worst one you’d ever had, with an intensity that had set in as soon as you’d opened your eyes that morning, and it only seemed to be getting worse as they day went on. You hadn’t even been able to make it out of the bed to get breakfast, and you were certain that had been hours ago, or maybe days ago, you weren’t entirely certain, at this point.

All you knew was that your head was pounding, the light hurt, and every single sound, no matter how quiet, felt like it was splitting your head right in two.

“You’ll suffocate yourself if you fall asleep like that, you know. Can I watch?”

You’d recognize Loki’s teasing lilt anywhere, and while you didn’t appreciate their jab at you, you couldn’t help but to be relieved that someone had noticed you hadn’t come out of your room yet.

You weighed the pros and cons of trying to sit up, or even just remove the pillow from your head, but you couldn’t seem to get your arms to move one way or the other, and a small part of you figured that was probably for the better.

“Go ahead. It’ll end my suffering, and you’ll get a fun show in the process.” You spoke in the softest voice you could manage, and even that felt entirely too loud.

Loki remained silent for a moment, and you could practically feel Loki furrow their brow before they spoke.

“Suffering? Is something the matter?”

You gave a pitiful groan that came out more of a whine. “I have the migraine of the millennia.”

“Wow, the whole millennia, huh?” Loki had softened their voice to match yours, and you appreciated it, even though you still winced at the sound of it. You heard the soft padding of their feet against the carpet, and then the next moment you felt the bed shift as Loki presumably sat next to you. “Have you eaten anything? I’ll go get you some food, and a glass of cold water. But first let me close all these curtains and make sure it’s nice and dim in here for you. Yes?”

Loki was babying you, and it was almost enough to make you laugh, if you weren’t certain the sound would feel like a screwdriver digging into the base of your skull. Instead, you gave another pathetic little whimper.

“Alright. You just stay here. I’ll fix everything right up for you.”

It wasn’t that you’d never seen Loki act like this before. It was sort of law that, out of everyone at the Compound, if Loki was going to act parental to anyone, it would be you. And while you appreciated it immensely, it felt a little weird, having them take care of you like this. Usually you were the one being obsessive over everyone’s wants and needs. But you had to admit, it felt nice to let yourself be taken care of, for once.

You laid as still as possible in a meager attempt not to jostle yourself and make your migraine worse, and you were able to listen as Loki shuffled around the room, fiddling with the blinds and curtains and then closing what you assumed was your bedroom door.

“There we are… It’s quite dim in here now, do you want to try moving the pillow and seeing if you can manage?”

You nodded, and then realized that Loki most likely couldn’t see you doing so. “…yeah.”

“Yeah? Here we are.” You felt Loki put a gentle hand on your arm to help you sit up, and you let them guide you as pushed yourself up, letting the pillow simply fall down into your lap.

It wasn’t bad. Actually, they’d managed to get your room surprisingly dark. The only light in the room was the small lamp on your desk, and even that, Loki had turned so that it was facing the wall and instead giving off a much more dim glow rather than a direct source of light.

“Better?”

You nodded, and then winced when that only made your head feel worse, and Loki nodded along sympathetically.

“Now, you just wait here and rest, and I’ll go get you some food. You’ll be alright.” Loki patted your knee gently, then, and got up from the bed, and you closed your eyes to avoid having to deal with the light from outside, and didn’t open them again until you’d heard the door close behind them.

You heaved a quiet sigh and looked around the room, glancing at the blackout curtains that Loki had drawn closed over your windows, and you silently thanked yourself for whatever foresight had led you to getting them for your room. You sat there for a few long moments before you realized that you couldn’t hear… well, anything. No noises from outside of the room, no ticking from your alarm clock on the bedside table. Nothing.

You briefly wondered if you might have finally lost it, and then resolved to ask Loki what was going on when they got back.

You didn’t have to wait very long for them to return, and when they announced themself quietly, you only grew more confused at your ability to hear them and not anything else.

“How did you get it to be so quiet in here?” you muttered as you gingerly took the plate of food from Loki, who proceeded to sit down on the opposite corner of the bed, watching you intently.

“Oh, I cast a simple noise muffling spell. I should be the only thing you can hear, correct?”

You nodded once, because it still hurt your head to do anything more than that, and looked down at the sandwich, realizing that you were somehow both starving and completely nauseated at the very idea of eating food.

Loki seemed to pick up on this immediately, and gestured to the glass they’d set on your bedside table. “Perhaps the water instead. Do you need the wastebasket, just in case?”

You shrugged a shoulder, only because you knew that would hurt less than shaking or nodding your head, and Loki waved a hand so that the rubbish bin relocated from your desk to your bedside in an instant. You managed a weak smile in response, but still made no move to either eat or pick up the glass of water.

“Drink. You’ll feel better.”

“Oh, you’re a doctor now?” Sick as you felt, you couldn’t not take an opportunity to jab at Loki, who only smiled placidly.

“Just an educated guess.”

“Mm.”

You sat in silence for a few moments longer, looking down at the plate in your lap, and then finally, hesitantly, reached for the glass of water with a sigh. Once you started to drink, you found yourself unable to stop, and within a minute, the glass had been drained entirely.

“There we are.”

You sat the cup back down and looked back at the plate, wondering if you could brave at least a bite.

“Maybe let the water digest for a bit before you try to eat. Cleaning up your vomit is where I draw the line at caretaking, I’m afraid.”

You rolled your eyes, huffing out a soft laugh that you were slightly surprised to find didn’t hurt your head. “Wow, such dedication you’re showcasing. Truly, I’m blessed by the Gods to have someone so set on taking care of me.”

“Oh, you must be feeling better, if you can dish out the sass.”

You grinned. “Maybe just a little bit.”

Loki nodded, but they were smiling, as well, and after a moment, they took the plate from you and set it on the bedside table. “Why don’t you rest some more, and we’ll try eating in a little bit. I’ll stay right here. Alright?”

You huffed out another soft laugh at how Loki was disproving their own insistence about caretaking, and decided not to argue with them, gingerly laying back down and curling up so that you were in the most comfortable position with the least amount of light to bother you. You felt the covers being tucked around you, and couldn’t help but to smile, knowing that Loki was still babying you, even as you closed your eyes and let yourself begin to doze.

“Rest now. Everything’s going to be okay.”

#Loki imagine #platonic Loki imagine #Loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Loki x reader #platonic!Loki x reader #anonymous #ask #answered #fluff #comfort #thank you for the ask!

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hualianff · 4 years ago

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MQ in the Middle

When the Xianle trio travel together, they always try to get seats in the same row. More often than not, MQ ends up being sandwiched in between FX (aisle seat) and XL (window seat), both of whom pass out within fifteen minutes of being in the air.

FX is snoring right in MQ’s ear, solid body blatantly invading MQ’s personal space. XL is sleep-talking, soft murmurs muffled into the hollow of MQ’s neck. MQ himself hadn’t had the chance to put in earbuds or grab a book out of his carry-on. Apparently, the other two had deemed him sleeping territory in need of conquering.

Even the flight attendant handing out drinks and snacks fixes MQ with an empathetic look. Luckily, the flight is only a little over an hour long.

The jostling bump of the plane landing careens the two sleeping stones off of MQ’s shoulders. MQ idly stretches his neck muscles with a groan, several pops releasing some tension; XL yawns like a tiny kitten, curiously lifting the window shutter to assess the landscape then hissing when the sunlight is too bright; FX is completely disoriented as if he had just risen from the grave after spending ten years under.

“You’re a really stiff pillow,” FX comments, voice raspy. MQ turns his head to glare at the culprit who left a trail of saliva on his cheek and shoulder. It seems his effort to stay still to not disrupt sleeping beauty’s slumber has gone unnoticed.

“You don’t say,” MQ responds snidely. XL chuckles from the side, patting MQ’s shoulder as a thank you for letting him peacefully nap. “By the way, Xie Lian, who the hell is San Lang?”

XL’s face flushes beet red.

“N-no one! I have no idea who you’re talking about,” XL rushes out. His mouth forms a thin line, putting on an innocent act that MQ has seen through time and time again. XL’s cheeks maintain a bright cherry blush, but MQ also notices the delighted gleam lingering in his eyes.

Seconds later, MQ pretends he doesn’t see how XL switches his phone off of airplane mode and the influx of messages that immediately appear on the screen from the said San Lang. Instead, MQ flicks his own phone to online mode to determine where their next gate is and to make sure their connecting flight is on time.

The Xianle trio arrive at their destination late at night, thoroughly exhausted from a long day’s travel overseas. Now in Australia, they sleepily check in to their hotel. They booked a room with two queen beds, meaning two people will sleep together while one person gets a bed to themselves.

Naturally, MQ calls dibs.

“You two share,” MQ announces as he’s the first one to enter the room.

“Who said you get the bed for yourself!?” FX shouts, following right after MQ. “Asshole. At least give us a chance to fairly assign who gets which bed.”

MQ plops all his luggage down onto the nearest bed, taking up the entire surface.

“No,” he deadpans. FX scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. XL is the last one to walk into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He squeezes past the bickering manchildren, vaguely thinking about how nice the room looks, then springs onto the other bed face-first with a happy moan.

Without further conversation, everyone eagerly gets ready to retire for the night. FX still hasn’t chosen where he’s sleeping, most likely squaring up to fight MQ for his own bed. Except a tiny voice makes him change his course of action.

“Feng Xin, come cuddle me,” XL mumbles into his pillow. He’s in sweatpants that definitely used to be MQ’s and a worn-out university tank which neither FX nor MQ know where he got it from, as no one they know went to that school.

Not one to deny XL a request, FX sticks his tongue out at MQ before shuffling to the other side of the room. FX finally deposits his things in a designated area, away from MQ’s well-deserved separate space. MQ rolls his eyes, wrapping up brushing his teeth. He spares a fleeting glance at the sight of FX climbing into bed with XL, wiggling under the covers as XL brings him to snuggle into his side.

Once the lights are out, MQ faces the opposite direction away from the bundle of tangled limbs. He wills his mind and body to relax enough to sleep. MQ tosses and turns a couple of times, in search of a decent sleeping position.

Unfortunately, it’s useless.

With a huff, MQ rolls off his bed. He shoves down his pride and approaches FX and XL’s bed. Enough time has passed for MQ’s eyes to adjust to the dark. He gazes down at his friends’ motionless forms, XL on his back with FX curled on his side. Unsure of how to ask for what he wants, MQ nervously crosses his arms. He stands quietly for a minute or so.

Miraculously, XL’s eyelids flutter open, taking in MQ’s stance. Without hesitation, XL extends his other arm as an invitation. MQ disregards his inhibitions and wedges himself against XL’s other side.

“I knew it,” FX mutters.

“Shut up,” MQ retorts.

“Goodnight,” XL proclaims.

Five minutes later, all three of them fall asleep, warm and content.

Sometime in the middle of the night, MQ wakes up to realize he’s somehow yet again stuck in the middle of a clingy angel and a snoring idiot. MQ makes sure both of them are still deeply asleep before smiling to himself, allowing tranquil slumber to consume him once more.

(Brainchild with @no-one-says-hi)

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #modern au #cerdrabbles #mu qing #feng xin #xie lian #implied hualian #hualian #xianle trio

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fandom-puff · 4 years ago

Text

Manhunt

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Requested by: anon ‘Hey, I saw that your requests are open. Can I request a Tommy Shelby fic where y/n gets kidnapped, please? Maybe Tommy’s getting extremely angry and worried and only calms down when he gets her back. Of course it’s up to you. Female reader if possible. Thank you so much :)’

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, swearing, injury (result of knife, beatings)

Bold italics = flashback

Gif creds to owner

“Where the fuck’ve you been?” Polly demanded from her desk, arms folded and lips pursed as Tommy stumbled through the door.

“Ah, let him be, Pol,” Arthur grinned, clapping him on the back. “Reckon his head’s still on his honeymoon. Been stuck in bed with the missus all morning, eh, brother?”

Tommy smirked boyishly. “No. Fuckin’ car broke down. Anyway, YN left ours hours ago, said she was seeing Ada before she buggers back off to London,”

At that moment, Ada walked through the door, holding one of John and Esme’s kids on her hip, bouncing him gently. “I haven’t seen YN today, Tom. Didn’t show up to our reservation in that nice cafe. Haven’t heard from her, so I just thought she was with you,”

Tommy frowned deeply. “But... she left at half eight to catch the bus. I told her I’d give her a lift but she said she needed to run a few errands before she met up with you,” he checked his pocket watch quickly. “It’s gone noon. Are you lot sure you haven’t heard from or seen her?”

“Tom, it’s fine, she’s probably just caught up in the shops or something,” John said, lighting a cigarette.

“No. It’s not fucking fine, Johnboy. She left at half eight this morning, stood Ada up in her favourite cafe- and she’s been going on about it for weeks- and no one has seen hide nor hair of her for hours. Something’s wrong,”

Jaw set harshly, Tommy strode out of the betting shop, closely followed by his brothers. “Oi! Finn. Run and tell Sergeant Moss that I said to have a search party out. Tell him YN’s missing. Then on your way back, go to Charlie’s yard and tell him to keep an eye on the canals for her, alright. Good lad,” Finn nodded and began to run as fast as his legs would carry him.

“What about us, Tommy?” Arthur said. “Tell us what to do,”

***

Slowly, your eyes opened, though you still couldn’t see anything- a length of fabric covered your eyes, blocking out all light. Every inch of your body ached, and you became vaguely aware of the stinging sensation at your wrists- they were bound behind your back, the tightly knitted rope rubbing your skin raw. Judging by the slight jostling movement of your body and the hum of an engine below you, you were in a vehicle, being driven god knows where.

Deciding to keep quiet, you took some deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself, trying your hardest to recall the previous hours...

***

“I’ll see you later, Tom,” you smiled, giving your grinning husband a final kiss goodbye before setting off to the bus stop. Tommy had offered you a lift, but you declined, saying something about errands and scenery. It was an alright day, by British standards, the sun trying its hardest to peak through the thin clouds.

You were halfway to the bus stop when you felt a presence behind you. Hurrying your steps a little more, knowing the old gentleman from the village would likely be at the stop for his weekly shop, if you could just get around this bend, you dared a look behind you, before colliding head on with something- or rather someone.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” you said, making to step around him, but his arms shot out, grasping onto you while the man behind you yanked a fistful of your hair, tugging your head backwards.

“Don’t you worry, Shelby,” he said, a slight accent lacing his low voice. “You will be,”

You tried to stamp your heels down on the attackers’ shins, you made to bite the hands closest to your face, to wriggle as much as you could. As you began to scream, a damp cloth was held over your nose and mouth, making your eyes roll back and your body slacken, allowing the two men to drag you to their vehicle, hidden by the shrubbery and blossoming trees and the loud caws of the birds.

***

Tommy was in full panic mode. He had Peaky Blinders scouring the whole of Birmingham, Sergeant Moss had managed to telephone the London police and have a telegram sent to every constabulary in the country to keep an eye out. Johnny Doggs had the Lee boys out, and Charlie was stopping every boat the passed through the cut.

Tommy kicked the table in the betting shop, sending papers and coins flying. “Where the fuck is she?” He roared, eyes flashing with some anger, but mostly fear.

“We’re doing everything we can, Thomas,” Polly said firmly, patting her nephews back and pushing a cup of tea into his hands. “It’s well sugared. You need the energy,”

“It’s not fucking enough!” He yelled, taking one sip of the tea before slamming the cup down, sloshing the table. “She could be anywhere and we’re sat here like idiots!”

Polly sighed, retreating to man the phone, waiting for someone, anyone to phone with knowledge of your whereabouts.

“It’ll be alright, brother,” John said. “Esme’s down with the Lees making sure none of them are sat twiddling their thumbs. Moss has every copper in Birmingham on the case. Even the London coppers are looking for a Shelby, and their almost all under Solomons and Sabini,”

Tommy was quiet for a moment before he looked between his brothers. “Solomons and Sabini...” he said slowly, processing the information before his face hardened.

“Solomons is a mad bastard,” Arthur said quietly.

“Right. Car, now. We’re going to London,”

***

The blind fold was removed, but you still couldn’t see much. One of your eyes was swollen shut, and the room you were in was plunged in almost complete darkness. Your hands were still tied, only now they (along with your ankles) were bound to a chair. You tried to shuffle the chair along, but it made a loud grating scraping noise, and caused a blinding pain to shoot through your nerves. Something was definitely broken.

“Shelby,”

The voices echoed around the room as you heard the men draw closer, their footsteps rapping sharply against the concrete ground. You strained your good eye, trying to make out their faces, but you could only make out vague face shapes, plunged in shadows.

“I told you, I don’t have any information!” You said urgently, preparing yourself for another punch or kick.

It didn’t come. Instead you felt the cold edge of a thin blade pressing against your swollen cheek. He dragged the blade slowly and you hissed as your cheek bloomed with stinging pain, feeling your hot blood trickle down your face and neck.

“We don’t want information,” the other man said lowly as you felt the tip of the knife press against your neck briefly. You held your breath, preparing for the worst, before the blade dropped. You let out a shaky breath of relief, which quickly turned into a groan of pain as a thick finger dragged along the fresh wound. “We don’t need one of Shelby’s whores for information,” you shut your eyes tightly, willing your tears not to fall. “We want to destroy Tommy Shelby,”

***

“Thomas! Thomas! Stop the fucking car now!”

The car squealed to a halt and Tommy almost tripped over his own feet in his haste. “This had better be good, Pol,” he growled, grabbing hold of the phone. “Speaking,”

“That you, Tommy?”

Tommy gritted his teeth. “Aye, Solomons. Make it quick. I’ve no time for business now,”

“Yeah, I know, right. Right fuckin’ fuss you’ve kicked up, yeah. Looking for that wife of yours, I heard. Well, Tommy, my coppers have been out and about , right, searchin’ high and fuckin’ low. Found nothin’ right,”

“Alfie,” tommy hissed. “I’m on my way down to London, now. If you’ve got no information, I don’t wanna hear any of your fuckin’ stories, alright?”

“Oi, you watch your tone, Tommy. I’m getting there. See now, Ollie’s missus’s got a friend whose friend is the wife of a fuckin’ wop, right. She says, right, that your wife, YN, had been on Sabini’s fuckin’ hit list from the very start. He’s got his coppers trying to dismiss this ever so mysterious disappearance, right. But my coppers, yeah, Tommy, you followin’?”

“I’m following,” tommy said through gritted teeth.

“Right, well my coppers have received a tip off from one of Sabini’s coppers that there’s some funny business going on in the old abandoned warehouse, you know the one, the one up in Cheltenham, what the anarchists set fire to,”

“You sure, Alfie?”

“Course I’m fuckin’ sure. Off you go, Tommy,”

***

How long you had been on the floor for, you had no idea. Your arms and legs were no longer bound- not that it made any difference. You couldn’t move without a fresh round of pain turning your stomach. Tears mixed with blood on your cheeks; you could barely keep your eyes open; you lay next to a pool of your own vomit due to the pain; your clothes were soaking with your own blood and urine; you were ready to die.

***

Gunshots. Three of them.

Three voices shouting, although you couldn’t distinguish what they were saying.

The door swung open, flooding the room with light. You made to lift your head up off the floor, but sobbed in agony.

“Fuckin’ hell!”

“YN, it’s alright, I’m here! They’re gone, I’ve got you,”

You felt the familiar warm hands on your body, the strong arms lifting you, the distinct smell. But you couldn’t open your eyes- you were simply too tired.

“Tommy...” you breathed, one hand bunched up in his coat.

“Shhh, I’m here, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get you help, okay, my love. Don’t you worry one bit, okay?”

You nodded, trusting your eyes to shut, knowing that this time, tommy would be there to shake you awake, preventing you from giving into the darkness.

#tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby headcanon #tommy Shelby x reader #tommy Shelby x you #tommy Shelby angst #tommy Shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #request #2021

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sweetsbfreex · 4 years ago

Text

that’s daddy!

read the first installment here!

last fic of 2020! thank you guys so much for all the love and sweet messages, i’ve only been here for a short time, but you guys have rlly gotten me through being able to post my writing publicly 💕

Summary: another mix up, but this time it’s 10x more embarrassing

Warnings: lil’ smut but not so smut

Pairings: Husband, Dad!Harry x reader

You and Harry had woken up five minutes prior. Your mumbles in both your sleepy, raspy voices of good morning and your morning pecks out of the way. Now the two of you were cuddled up in bed. You were lowered in bed, on your side. Your head under Harry’s arm, one arm by your side, while the other was tracing the butterfly on Harry’s chest absentmindedly.

Harry was on his back; one of his arm’s brought down– his fingers caressing the side of your face.

“Plans for the day?” you ask H, tilting your head back slightly.

He was blissed out and zoned out, his mind running a mile a minute. With that he had hummed, asking you to repeat yourself.

“Plans for the day, H?” you asked again.

“Oh, have to head to the set in a few. Are you and B still meeting me there?”

“Why? Do you want us to?” you tease.

“What do you think” he imitated, pulling on the hand that was once on his stomach to guide you upward and closer to him.

You smiled knowingly down at him, your body hovering over him. While he winds a hand to the back of your neck pulling you down quickly.

“Frisky, huh” you joked, pulling away. But you were hastily pulled down– Harry snakes his arm higher using his bicep now to bring you down all the way– your body now bonded to Harry’s. Your sleeping shirt rubbing against his skin.

Harry kissed you roughly and was rough during the time he rolled the both of you over, so you were encased in him. Your non-stop grinding figure causing the growling he was emitting. And it would’ve gone father if it wasn’t for the pitter-patter of small feet walking past your open door. (You had left open last night for Bia this morning.)

He pulled away, breathless. Looking over his shoulder, using the hand that wasn’t under your neck to hold his body up. Only to see the four-year-old bouncing at the end of the bed, her favorite stuffed animal (an off-white duck) clutched in both her hands in front of her.

“B, remember what we talked about” Harry reminded her sweetly, laying on his back next to her mother.

“Sorry daddy” she pouted, her figure still. “Morning!” she squealed, running till she was laying in between you and Harry. It was always so surreal how crazy her emotions had shifted, but not very surprising.

“Morning bunny” Harry replied, kissing her forehead.

“Morning B” you replied, kissing her cheeks until she was laughed out, begging for mercy.

“What? don’t like mummy’s kiss?” Harry had asked, tickling her side.

“No!” she quipped, a mischievous, a very Harry look on her face.

You gasped in make-believe at her statement, looking up at Harry a plan in your eyes that he had naturally understood. You were each assigned a cheek of B’s and at once attacked her with kisses.

She broke out into a fit of giggles, each of her tiny hands brought up to clutch onto each of your chins, trying with all her might to push the both of you away.

“Okay! Okay!” she yelled, but it took her awhile with all the laughing she was doing.

“You love mummy’s kisses?” you asked her

“Yes!” she screamed, adjusting herself so she was now laying on top of you. Her cheek rested against yours, which she had kissed before settling herself to down– to further persuade you. You wrapped both your arms around her instantly, one of hers coddling the lobe of your ear.

Harry shuffled closer to the two of you. On his side he used an arm to support his head.

“Angel, guess what?” he beamed.

“What Daddy?”

“You and mum are gonna be meeting on set today”

She was confused, and you could tell from the lack of emotion she let out at Harry’s information. She was four, so you couldn’t blame her for not understanding how exciting it would be to see her father live in action.

“B” you started, gaining her attention. “Me and you are gonna meet daddy at work and watch him act and meet everyone else...like Descendants how everyone is at the isle of the lost” you divulged, trying to make this exciting as possible for her.

“We’re going to the Isle of the lost?” she interrupted, her head tilting slightly in confusion.

“No no” you laugh “It’s like– you know what nevermind. Basically, we’re gonna go see daddy at work, but with movies”

“Were going to the movies?”

“Kind of, but instead we’re gonna watch how movies are made”

“Ohh” she dragged, still a bit confused, but she really only understood that she would be meeting her dad at work. Harry laughed at your attempt, knowing you were shit at explaining things and trying to explain something like this to a toddler was only harder for you.

“it’s okay B, you’ll see soon” Harry reassured her. “What do the two of you want for breakfast?”

Peeling off the comforter, he got out of bed stretching his back out. A deep, pleasurable groan leaving his mouth. Causing a giggle between you and Bia.

“Pancakes and strawberries, please” Bia requested.

“Can I have French toasts pleaseee” you beg.

“You got it” Harry replied, making his way out of the room after grabbing a shirt from his dresser.

He could hear the whispering between the two of you, most likely scheming against him. But when he had started making his way to the door, he heard a shrill voice filled with cackles.

“Thank you best daddy in the world!” B had recited. Harry had shook his head a great smile on his face, close to tears. He raised his hands high, making a heart with his hands catching the eye of the two of his best girls, that were still laughing, in his bed.

Only a few hours earlier you and B had kissed Harry a see you later at the door. Now it was only the two of you in the parking lot of the set, one of the employees from the movie, sent to guide you and B to your location.

You looked down at your little girl, who’s hand was pancaked with yours, skipping behind you. Her pony tails shifting and her shoes lighting up with each bounce.

“You excited miss Styles” you ask.

She hummed an answer, toi immerse into the song she was singing.

“I was requested by Harry to bring some goldfish and strawberries for Bia. Is that okay?” she double checks

“That’s perfect. Thank you so much” you smile as she stops abruptly in front of you, tapping away at her tablet.

“No problem, they’ll be inside” she smiled back, looking up “Here’s his trailer, if you need anything I’m once again Ximena” she waved a goodbye to you and Bia.

You climb up the steps, gently, Bia trailing closely behind you. Opening the door, you walk inside to see the spacious area.

The first thing you see when walking in is the platter of Cut strawberries and packs of B’s favorite varieties of goldfish on the coffee table, catching her attention instantly as she sprints towards the snacks. Getting herself comfortable on the sectional sofa in front of the tv.

You can see a counter, an array of cosmetic products settled on top. One chair sat behind the counter, facing a wall with a large mirror mounted on the wall. You walk farther in the trailer to see on the counter, a framed picture of the three of you on an impromptu picnic, your heart filled as you eyed the picture.

you loved that day

Lastly, all the way in the back you could see a large bed, probably a queen, which you could tell was laid upon earlier.

You walked over to Bia, taking a seat next to her, who shoved yet another strawberry into her mouth. You chuckled lowly, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. Putting something on just for her.

You were getting engrossed in the show when the door to the trailer flung open, Harry walking into his hands on his hips.

Bia had jetted off the sofa, running towards her dad, who had crouched down to pick her up. Spinning her around as she giggled, twinkling.

You paced towards him, flinging yourself softly onto him, as he was still holding B.

“Hi love, missed you” he said softly, bringing his right hand up to secure the back of your head, bringing you into a kiss.

“Why are you so out of breath” you asked, laughing. You could see the glimmer of sweat along his hairline.

“Ran all the way over here. I just finished a scene when they told me you two were here” jostling Bia a bit.

“You’re so cute” you said with a fond look, welcoming him for a quick peck. “And you look so handsome. Love when your hair is parted like this”

One of the first things that you had noticed was how dapper he had looked in the brown suit.

You tell him getting a cocky smirk in response. You take your finger and gently move a strand of his hair that hung in between his eyebrows, moving it so it was flowing to the right– as it should be.

“Thank you lovie, how about I show the two of you around.”

You were walking down the lines of trailers, The three of you linked together like monkeys in a barrel, Bia walking in the middle. As you walked down Harry showed her all the equipments, teaching her how things worked, helping her pronounce the tough words, and explaining what they were for.

“They’re shooting something right now. You want to watch?”

“Mhm”

You crouch to pick up Bia, her short legs slowing the two of you down if you had to be honest. She sat on your hip, now a bit farther away from Harry. He had been quick to drape his arm over his arm over your shoulder, bringing you both closer.

“Remember you have to be quiet” Harry reminded B, as you both walked closer to a scene that was about to start.

“I remember” she whispered.

It was only a minute or two that went by, when Bia let out a quiet groan. Frustrated to no end.

“Daddy” She had groaned again, her hand in a tiny fist. You looked down at her, face scrunched up.

“What is it baby?” he asked, grabbing her fist. Her hand now enclosed over his finger.

“My eyes. S’ too bright”

You and Harry smiled down at her, You watched as Harry opened one of the jackets. Slipping his hand inside one of the pockets, you assumed, pulling out a pair of sunglasses. He perched them gently on her face. So big they had slid down her nose.

“Better?” you asked, kissing the top of her head

She nodded her head, turning her attention, so she was watching the extras move around and the actors/actresses recite their lines.

The three of you stood there for another ten minutes, but had to go when Harry looked down at his watch. Smile falling not wanting to leave you both.

“I gotta go lovie, but I’m gonna drop off you both at the trailer first” he says grasping your hand, leading you both away from the ongoing scene.

“What?” you pout “I thought I would’ve been able to see you in action” you tease.

“I know, I know” he sighs, walking in front of you so he can clasp your face between his palms. Which were by now ringless, except for the wedding ring prop. His, from your wedding day, sat next to his journal on his night stand.

“But I’d not rather kiss another woman in front of B...Plus you’ll make me nervous”

“I make you nervous” you keen

“Don’t act surprised” he quips “Remember the time I spilled my drink all over your lap on our first date?” he asks, you nod in confirmation. “There you go! Now let’s get you two back to the trailer” he ended the conversation swiftly, grappling both your shoulders gently. Squeezing them lovingly as he guided you back to the trailers.

You and H had been entranced in a conversation when B had squealed letting out excitedly “Puppy!”

The sound of her excitement got both of your attention, looking down to see none other Dodger on a leash held by Chris freaking Evans.

“Hey Chris!” Harry greeted, putting his hands out for a handshake. Harry had let go of your shoulder as Chris pulled Harry in for what you called ‘manly man shoulder tap’. “You’ve met y/n, this” he pointed to B “Is Bia, my daughter” Harry, properly, introduced the squirming girl in your arm, trying so hard to pet the dog, pinching her cheek.

“Hi” you greeted Chris, clearing your throat afterwards.

You met Chris when the cast had got together for a bonding moment at a very fancy restaurant. But god, could you ever get used to the fact that your husband worked with Chris freaking-hot- Jamal Evans and you basically had access to see him whenever? No. Never.

When the news had broke out that Chris would be joining in as a cast member, you were probably more excited than Harry, as you had ran around the room in twirls at the fact that you were going to see two of the most handsomest men in the world in one movie. And you were married to one of them.

Harry could do nothing that day not wanting to burst your bubble with the slight jealousy he had felt as he laid back on the bed, watching your very familiar crazy behavior. A smile on his face.

“Almost as if you were the one acting with him baby” he teased you, making his way hastily towards you, throwing you over his shoulder a quick smack to your ass.

And the dinner was not any easier. Your hand in Harry’s hands, placed over the table. Which you was his way of slight possessiveness, while you sat across from Chris Evans himself, trying so hard not to act like such a fangirl. His eyes were so blue, so bright, it was hard not to get caught in those.

But you were married and had to calm down. Letting Harry know multiple times if this were Jennifer Aniston he would have all the passes he wanted.

“Hey how are you y/-” Chris had started, but the sound of an overly excited toddler had took all three of your attention

“Daddy!” she roared, a smile on her face, pointing towards Chris’ shocked figure.

It was like time stood, still at the tension–– mostly felt on you and Harry’s end. At the way Chris had dropped his jaw, eyes wide, his finger pointing at himself.

Harry was nothing but embarrassed, cheeks and ears heating up. His own daughter called someone who wasn’t Harry her father for christs sakes.

And you were nothing but the same, as all three of you stood there moths dropped.

“O- oh my gosh, Chris, I’m so sorry. I have no idea why she-” you started.

“It’s fine really” he chuckled. “I’m actually supposed to be on set in a few, so I’ll catch you guys later.” he waved, smiling, walking away from the three of you.

“Oh my gosh, Harry! I just embarrassed myself in front of Chris evans” you whined.

“This is your fault” he laughed “Told you I hated that joke, glad to see karma got you where it hurts”

“I hate you” you whine

Harry pays you no mind, a smug look over taking his face.

“Where’s daddy going?” Bia asks, her head turning at Chris’ walking figure.

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #dad! harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #dad harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles reader insert #harry styles fanfiction #chris evans x reader #harry styles x you #dad!harry #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #husband!harry #husband! harry styles

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baejax-the-great · 4 years ago

Text

Alternate Ending

Working on a fic that got derailed when Garrus and Shepard decided to make out. Figured I’d post this version here while spraying them with cold water on the other version.

Shakarian (AO3), Rated T, mild suicide mentions

“You know I thought those shield fluctuations were just my sensors getting confused by your teleportation act?”

Shepard barely glanced over her shoulder before going back to removing her armor. “Did you?”

It wasn’t until he saw a slug hit her in the shoulder that Garrus realized she really was launching herself into the center of the fray—and exploding—completely unshielded. “Shepard, what the fuck.”

She waved a hand in the air. “The dark energy—the way it—in order to—look it overloads my shield emitters, or, well, not exactly, I sort of overload them on purpose along with everything else—but they recover pretty fast. It’s no big deal.”

No big deal? He’d never heard her trip over her words like that. “You’re standing there with your hump out—”

“It’s really good body armor, not even scratched, and I don’t have a hump unless you mean my ass—”

“You’re a sinking pigeon!”

“What?”

She dropped her chest piece on top of the pile, the sound echoing through the armory, and they stared at each other in mutual incomprehension. Garrus wasn’t angry, not really, but he veered into distinct annoyance when Shepard started laughing, a quick burst of startled air as her shoulders dropped.

Had she really lost her last shred of self-preservation?

“The expression is ‘sitting duck,’ birdman. Anyway, why do you think I bring my best sniper with me everywhere I go?”

She turned back to her armor as Garrus huffed. “I thought I couldn’t hit the side of a barn.”

“You can’t. I was talking to the visor. You’re just its mobile weapons unit.”

“Huh.”

She tossed the armor pieces into her locker in a way that would have made any turian commander give her latrine duty for a month and kicked the door closed.

Kasumi’s words came back to him, and in spite of himself, Garrus laughed. “Dammit.”

“What?” she asked with a sidelong glance as she began unsealing her softsuit.

“Kasumi called me your emotional support turian.”

That gave her pause. She got her suit rolled down to her waist, just some thin civilian clothes up top now, exposing a dark purple lump on her shoulder. She shrugged. “Well if I have any emotions that need a shot between the eyes, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Shepard had gone unreadable while she fussed with her legs, and the weird tension that filled the room had Garrus bouncing on his feet. It occurred to him that he was now just watching Shepard undress for no particular reason.

“You should get that shoulder checked out.”

She slammed her suit down in front of her. “I might be a sinking pigeon, but you are a mother hen. It doesn’t even hurt.”

On what may have been his most suicidal impulse to date, Garrus reached out and poked it.

“Shit.” Shepard snatched his hand, and the very real possibility of Shepard decking him floated through Garrus’s head. But she just threw his hand to the side and said, “Fine. I’ll hit the medbay.”

Garrus didn’t know what made him do it. Gun to his head, he couldn’t have answered. But with seemingly no rational thoughts left in his brain, he reached out poked her again, one turian finger into the soft flesh of her side.

She caught his hand, and this time didn’t let go. “What are you…?” She let the words linger in the air, a questioning smile on her lips.

And yeah, Garrus was definitely feeling suicidal because when he tried to pull away and she didn’t let go of his wrist, he poked her a third time with his other hand, or, well, he tried to, but she intercepted before he made contact, and now she had both of his hands in a tight grip on either side of her hips, and…

Oh. That was what he was doing. He was flirting. Apparently. Like a twelve-year-old who didn’t know how to just talk to a woman and instead provoked her with juvenile antics.

Shepard was provoked.

He gave another weak attempt to pull his hands back, but Shepard didn’t let go. Pulled him in tighter, and either she was an expert in turian flirting or she was lining herself up to headbutt him straight to Andromeda.

She wasn’t smiling anymore.

His heart was in his throat as her eyes traveled over his face, inscrutable. He realized he was leaning in even closer, looming over her, really, but he couldn’t figure out how to stop.

Just when Garrus was about to try to excuse himself to take a dive out the airlock, just to cool off, Shepard lunged forward with the weirdest headbutt of all time, planting her mouth over his. Garrus made a noise that was something like “grggghhll?” but Shepard had released his hands and they were back at their absurd stunts, grabbing her around her squishy human waist and pressing her against his body.

Whatever this was, it was happening. Shepard sure as hell wasn’t pulling away, one of her hands creeping up around his neck to hold his face more firmly to hers. Her lips were warm against his mouth, and her nose was sort of smashed into his cheek, but she didn’t seem to care. And now that she was in his arms, he did not want to let go. This was, she was—weird, but good weird. Soft and kind of wet and Garrus had no idea what he was supposed to do next.

What he did was clumsily push her against the table and jostle her injured shoulder.

Shepard broke away with a hiss and a curse. She gave him a light shove, enough to knock him back two steps, though there was that smile again. Garrus’s hands, instigators of all of this, were now hanging limp by his side, no help at all.

Shepard’s eyes flicked over him. She absentmindedly ran a finger over her lips, which looked a bit pinker than they had earlier. “I’m going to, uh, I am going to go see Chakwas about this. The shoulder, not the uh—” she laughed “—You can… you can stay here and figure out what just happened. Yeah.”

Shepard left the armory in her socks, her softsuit still in a pile on the table. Garrus mirrored her earlier action, rubbing a finger over where her mouth had been just moments before. She’d left a little spit on him.

Weird. So, so weird.

After a minute, when his heart rate had slowed down to something approaching normal, he typed a query into his omnitool.

“That is what they call kissing?” he asked to the empty armory.

More importantly, could he get her to do it again?

He jumped when EDI’s voice filled the room. “The Commander has asked me to relay a message to you.”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Go ahead.”

“She says that if you wish to continue your earlier conversation, you should wait for her in her quarters. She anticipates being done with Dr. Chakwas in about fifteen minutes.”

Garrus rubbed his thumb over his mouth again. Fifteen minutes was not a lot of time to learn… everything about human romance. “Thanks, EDI. I’ll, uh. Guess I’ll go wait. Ah, hm. You don’t have to tell her that.”

“Understood.”

Garrus shuffled into the CIC and just hoped nobody noticed that when he called the elevator, he had pushed the up button.

#shepard #garrus #shakarian #my writing #mass effect #me2 #first kiss #dumbasses in love #use my words? never #okay will you two let me write the real version now pls

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nocturnalazura · 4 years ago

Text

There Whenever You Need

Kaminari x femreader

Here is my submission for this months BNHArem server collab. This month we were challenged to take a break and spend some time with out favorite character. Please check out everyone else Here!

Warnings: Anxiety and that's really it.

Wc: 1.3K

The sound of Denki’s laughter echoes throughout the quiet walls of your home. It makes your heart flutter and warmth pool low in your belly at the happy sound. The warmth is quickly smashed down by a swell of anxiety that courses through your body. Turning the tv off you listen to Denki chatter away into his headset in the other room, you rest your head against the back of the couch as he yells at Kirishima for something you can’t quite hear. Chewing on your bottom lip you reach over and grab your phone and headphones and walk over to the gaming room and carefully push open the door.

Sneaking in, you quietly close the door behind you before creeping over to him. Letting a hand graze across his shoulder as you move to stand near his desk. He laughs at something one of the guys said as he keeps playing, glancing over at you quickly and giving a large smile before looking back to the screen. Suddenly anxiety swirls inside of you again, the overwhelming feeling that you’re bothering him starts to creep up. As your chest tightens you look towards the door and take a small step forward. The moment you move a hand shoots out in front of you.

“Rounds almost over bug, give me like two minutes ok?” Denki says before going back to the game. “Don’t try and sneak out, I will chase you down while we wait for the next round to start.”

“Ok.” You whisper softly, bouncing on your toes to try and rid some of the excess energy as you watch him finish out the round. The second the round is over he hits the mute on his mic and swivels to look at you.

“What’s up, bug?” He starts all too happy to see you. “Hey? Baby what’s wrong?”

“Nothing just, can I stay with you?”

“Of course, come here. You sure nothings wrong?”

“Yeah I just wanted to be with you.” You mumble as you climb into his lap situating yourself until your face presses into his neck. “Am I too heavy?”

“Nope you’re good, comfortable?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna put headphones on. Tap me if you need me.”

Nodding he turns his head and kisses you softly. Swiveling back to his computer he shuffles the two of you closer to the desk, smiling when he hears your loud music. Giving it a minute he moves like he’s going to unmute himself, instead he says your name in a normal tone resting to see if you can hear him. When you make no move from the sound he assumes you can’t hear him and unmutes himself.

“Hey, I’m out after this round guys.”

“Tch, the fuck dunce face? You’re the one always begging to stay on longer.” Bakugou grumbles.

“Yeah dude what’s up, you never ditch out early? Chimes Kirishima.

“I’m gonna spend some extra time with y/n.”

“Didn’t you guys go out earlier today? But if you wanna hang out with your girl I can’t blame you.”

Yawns Sero.

“Yeah we did, I just feel like she needs me? I don’t know, she’s in my lap right now but she just looks really anxious.”

“Wanna drop now? You’ve got a valid reason.” Bakugou grunts.

“Nah, if I get off now she’ll think it was because of her. I don’t want her to over think it. She doesn't really get that she comes first in my world.”

“Um isn’t she with you? She’s not deaf dude?”

Kirishima points out hesitantly.

“It’s Y/n. She’s got headphones in and the music way too loud.”

The next round of the game starts and they all go back to game mode. Only the chatter of positions, jokes of how they suck and Bakugou yelling come from them. Denki smiles when he feels you snuggle into him more. One of your hands rests at the back of his neck, playing with his hair as you let him jostle you around as he plays.

You can feel the vibrations of his voice thrum through his chest as he talks to the guys. That feeling mixed with his warmth, the slight smell of his cologne that clings to him and the simple act of being around him slowly eases your anxiety. The tight feeling in your chest finally starts to loosen and your body easily melts into your boyfriend. There’s a soft kiss pressed to your head when you fully relax into him making you smile and press a little kiss to his neck.

Eventually you drift off into your own little world, eyes closed as you breathe easy for the first time in hours. Even with that you know it’s still there, low in your belly waiting for your mind to twist everything around so it can swallow you again. A hand smooths down your back, gaining your attention. Sitting up slightly, you watch Denki pull his headset off, setting it on the desk before he pushes the chair backwards. Pausing your music you look at him quizzically.

“Hold on.” He breathes, kissing your head again.

“What? Oh!” You squeak, grabbing onto him when stands. His hands grip your thighs easily supporting you. “Denki? What? Where are you taking me?!”

He doesn’t answer, simply walking to the bedroom and dumping you on the bed before turning and leaving. Sitting up you look after him rather confused, the air conditioner kicks on from its low setting alerting you that he’s messed with it. Reappearing he moves to the closet, digging around he pulls out one of the warmer blankets the two of you own and throws it at you effectively covering your confused state before leaving again.

Pulling the blanket off you, you sigh and move to rest against the head board arranging the blanket to cover the bed as the apartments temperature quickly drops. Chewing at your bottom lip you take out your head phones and set them on the night stand in time to hear Denki walk back in. He gives you a large smile when he sees you’ve moved and covered yourself.

“Hold this.” He commands shoving a bowl filled with candies and other snacks the two of you like into your arms.

“Denki? What about the guys?” You question.

“Hold that thought bug.” He smiles as there's a knock at the door still leaving you with no answers. Slumping back you pick at the blanket waiting for him to reappear. Finally he comes back holding up a bag from your favorite take out place. “Alright, everything set, here take your food snacks in the middle.”

“Denki what are we doing? I thought you were playing with the guys.”

“I was! But now I’m spending time with you.” He chirps, leaning over he kisses your forehead as you blink at him owlishly. “I wanna spend time with you, let me?”

“Of course.” You smile.

As you open your food and start picking at it, Denki focuses his attention on pulling up Spirited Away. Once the film starts he leans back into the headboard smiling at you before setting up his own food. You watch him dig into his food before you finally start to eat your own. The two of you watch the movie eating quietly, once you're both finished he takes the now empty containers and sets them off to the side before opening his arms for you to curl into his chest to finish the movie.

The two of you settle in, curled around each other as you stay transfixed on the movie. Fingertips softly comb through your hair before scratching at your scalp softly. You feel Denki smile when he kisses your forehead as you rest against him. When the credits start to roll, you look up and kiss at his jaw softly.

“Thank you.” You whisper softly.

“Anytime bug. I love you.”

“Love you too Denki.”

#mha kaminari #kaminari x y/n #bnha kaminari #kaminaridenki #kaminari x reader #kaminari fluff #denki kaminari

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chitsangenthusiast · 4 years ago

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can i get an uhhhhh zukka fluff number 10?

me, walking in two days late with a venti caramel flat white: hey lol

(sorry for this lateness! i wasn’t expecting to be so exhausted after irl stuff this weekend BUT in my defense you did give me the hair braiding prompt so. really. ofc it was gonna get out of hand and need more time lmaooooo rip)

i hope you enjoy!!

the prompt: "stop moving and let me braid your hair"

"Ugh, I’m so going to get sick. This sucks.”

Zuko lightly knocks an elbow into his chest and starts separating the hair next to his temple into three small groups.

“I woke up sick and you woke up next to me. Hate to break it to you, love, but it’s going to happen regardless," he states, then elbows him again when Sokka moans in sorrow. “You're such a baby. Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

“Bossy,” Sokka grumbles, but he does bring his free hand to rest on his husband’s thigh while he works, and shoots him a small, grateful smile.

(the full ficlet under the cut!)

—

The sound of his husband’s footsteps has Sokka turning—and he’s met with the sight of Zuko already glaring at him before he can even properly raise a judgmental brow.

“I thought I told you to stay in bed?” he asks anyway, and rolls his eyes in amusement when Zuko petulantly crosses his arms with an annoyed sniff.

And then sniffs again, harder, in a useless attempt at clearing his clogged nose.

“I heard Izumi,” he says, and immediately has to cough a few times into his elbow to try to smooth down the dry, painful rasp in his throat.

Sokka just snorts, and doesn’t come closer.

Instead, he repositions their daughter so that her sleepy face can be better seen across the room. Covered in her favorite blanket and wrapped tight around her dad’s shoulders, she looks exhausted. Her eyes only barely open from being jostled around, acknowledging her baba’s presence before slipping shut again with a small whine, and Zuko’s pulse can’t help but trip over the sickly flush on her own cheeks or the tiny wet coughs she occasionally lets out. He quickly steps into the room toward her.

“Uh, what do you think you’re doing?”

Sokka’s derisive tone stops him from getting too far. It’s softer, not it’s usual brash volume in an effort to be gentle on Izumi’s ears (and Zuko’s headache), which means it’s also entirely ineffective.

Zuko stares hard at him as he determinedly makes his way over, and Sokka lets out a loud groan.

“Hon, you’re sick! Get back in bed!” he tries again, this time in mounting horror when Zuko starts to get close, and he quickly pivots so that her body is blocked from view by his own. “She doesn’t need any more of your germs!”

“It’s just a cold, Sokka. Don’t be ridiculous,” Zuko scoffs—then has to cough into his elbow again before he can continue. He ignores the exasperated look he gets. “It’s just colds for both of us. Let me see my daughter, she’s not going to get any sicker if I’m around her.”

“Alright, well, you just saw her,” Sokka shoots back. He still hasn’t moved Izumi back into Zuko's line of sight, in case he tries to reach out and take her from his arms. “Now go lay down until I can come take care of you next.”

The complaint is heavy but without heat, and it makes Zuko finally look up at him with a frown. This close, he can see the clear exhaustion on his husband’s face; Izumi had come to his bedside early in the morning, sniffling and tearfully frustrated from not feeling well, so Sokka has been the one up with her all morning, alternating between taking care of her and passing along messages to the attendants about Zuko’s cancellations for the day since, naturally, he also woke up sick. He’s only half-dressed for work, with scruff still on his jaw and his hair draped over the shoulder that Izumi isn’t resting on, and Zuko’s mouth twists in quiet guilt.

“Your hair’s not done,” he blurts out, knowing better but too tired to think of a better way to phrase it, and Sokka grumps at him.

“Yeah, well, between a fussy sick husband and a poor little one who refused to be put down all morning—” here, he drops a quick kiss on Izumi’s head and rubs a sympathetic hand up her back— “I haven’t really had the time to put it up for the day yet.”

Zuko cuts a glance to the clock. “Don’t you have a meeting in an hour?”

He winces at Sokka’s hard sigh.

“I’ll just—” Suddenly, Izumi lets out a big sneeze, quickly followed by an agitated cry, and Sokka shifts her around so that she’s better cocooned in his arms as he starts to sway a little to calm her. “I’ll get to it eventually. Or I’ll just show up like this and guilt everyone into doing what I want. Could be a good tactic actually, I think some of the committee members are parents who would empathize.”

“Let me do it for you.”

Sokka immediately steps away from him with a deep frown. “Nope, keep your sick hands away from me. I’m the only one left!”

“I won’t get you sick,” Zuko snaps, and doesn’t care about Sokka’s complaining as he drags him over to the couch to gently push him down into the cushions. Izumi fusses, wiggling against her dad’s hands so that she can pull away from his shoulder—then does a hard tilt over, startling both of her fathers as she dives into the pillow right next to Sokka’s leg.

“Izumi!”

As soon as her head hits the cool fabric, she lets out a happy, relieved noise and snuggles down into it. Her blanket comes up tighter around her shoulders, her feet shuffle around slightly in Sokka’s lap as she works to get comfortable, and she doesn’t even bother giving either of her dads the time of day before closing her eyes to try to find sleep.

Zuko promptly plops down next to his husband, shocked and a little woozy. “She’s not allowed to hang out with Toph anymore.”

“Does she think she’s an earthbender, just falling back like that without a care?” Sokka quietly seethes back in agreement. One of his hands comes down to wrap around her ankle as he lets out an explosive sigh, and he drops his head heavy against the back of the couch. “The two of you are going to be the death of me, I swear.”

Zuko pouts. “I haven’t even done anything yet today.”

“You’re out of bed when I told you not to be,” Sokka fires back, then quickly leans away when he notices the hands reaching out for his hair. “Ugh, I’m so going to get sick. This sucks.”

Zuko lightly knocks an elbow into his chest and starts separating the hair next to his temple into three small groups.

“Bossy,” Sokka grumbles, but he does bring his free hand to rest on his husband’s thigh while he works, and shoots him a small, grateful smile.

The sight makes Zuko press a tiny kiss into the braid. “You know, I missed getting my ‘good morning’ kiss from you.”

Sokka immediately snorts. “Izumi got all my kisses this morning, sorry babe. I’ll give you one when you can finally breathe through both nostrils again.”

“Too long,” Zuko complains back, as he finishes off one of the braids. With Izumi half draped over his lap, Sokka will likely only be able to wear the two on his right side today since Zuko can't really get to the other side of his head, so he moves to start pulling his hair up into a wolf tail.

Sokka hums, and looks over with an sad, wistful smile. “Yeah, I can agree with that.”

With his hair held up in a fist, Zuko can now see the bare stretch of his husband’s neck, along with the dark fuzz of hair on his scalp that will need to be shaved at some point. He spends more time than necessary trying to catch any flyaways, sliding his hand up and around his head just so he can relish this moment of touch, and smiles at the quiet sigh he receives.

“I love you,” Sokka murmurs, one hand still on their daughter’s foot and the other rubbing light circles on his husband’s thigh. Zuko chuckles as he makes quick work of securing the wolf tail.

“I love you too,” he whispers back, and then leans in. He takes a moment, just a quick one, to press his warm forehead against Sokka’s skin—his body temperature does nothing too soothe, but Zuko’s spirits are still wonderfully lifted anyway—before pulling back to leave a lingering kiss on that same spot.

“There, without any worries of catching my cold.”

Sokka’s responding exhale is fulfilled, contented, and definitely whiny. Zuko drops another kiss there, just so he can appreciate the whining part again, then presses a few more along his hairline because the elated inhale he gets is too good not to be rewarded.

And then he keeps going, covering his husband’s head in little kisses as he loosely wraps his arms around his shoulders—only to be surprised into a long, firm kiss when Sokka suddenly (carefully, to not disturb a snoozing Izumi) twists around to pull him close. Zuko laughs into it, utterly pleased at finally getting what he’s wanted all morning, and curls around his husband as they indulge themselves in kiss after sweet kiss.

“You’re definitely going to get sick now,” he eventually mumbles into Sokka’s mouth, but he doesn’t pull away, and neither does Sokka.

He does let out a long-suffering laugh though, and lands a quick kiss on the space right between Zuko’s eyes. “Oh, I'm well aware, hon. Izumi kept blowing raspberries in my face earlier. Like I said, the absolute death of me.”

Still, the fingers that have found their way into Zuko’s hair push on the back of his neck anyway, beckoning.

Zuko grins, and dutifully falls back in to collect more of his husband’s kisses.

#sokka calling zuko hon/honey is something that can be so sweet <3 #when i tell you i've been thinking abt this prompt 24/7 #i lit ended up w three possible drafts and landed on this one bc it ended up as the /shortest/ one #also pls forgive any potential mistakes i only edited this once bc i'm v tired rn lol #zukka #zuko #sokka #izumi #dadko #dadka #my writing #ask #littlespoonsokka

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givemethatgold · 4 years ago

Text

Fix’er Upper Pt. 8

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: none? Length: 2.1k Notes: I’m sorry, Cyn, I know I said there would be smut but I was just enjoying the slow burn too much. And I just feel like these two NEED this. Not me nervous to write about his p in her v, nooope. Also, I’m wine drunk and did not spell check this bitch, have fun with that. Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series MASTERLIST

The day of the fair had finally arrived and you woke with more than a little excitement churning in your stomach. Multiple meetings at the community center had given you a chance to meet more of the town's population and you'd gained a deeper appreciation for them. Small towns afforded very few entertainments, which had resulted in some of the older kids, driven by boredom, getting into trouble. Minor things like graffiti and trespassing, but the community knew if they weren't careful that things could escalate. So, instead of making the kids feel judged or harshly reprimanded, the town was working towards better programs and facilities to keep them busy.

It was an unseasonably beautiful Autumn day, the kind that carried memories of Summer on the warm breeze. Knowing that cold and snow were just around the corner, these "second summers" made people act a little more recklessly and freely than they usually might. You had a feeling that the crowds tonight were going to be bigger and rowdier than anyone could have hoped for.

Jacquie had stopped by later to offer you a ride to town but you had just sent your baking with her, insisting that you wanted to enjoy the sunshine and bicycle in.

Once you'd entered the main square you were blown away by the effort from the town. Banners, balloons, streamers, and posters were everywhere. A stage for musical acts and a ticket booth had been built and donated by Hank's Hardware, food carts selling anything and everything you could deep-fry were scattered down every road. Carnival games had been set up in rows down multiple, closed-off, streets, as well as people setting up face-painting, balloon animals, and a smaller version of the Saturday Farmer's Market. The high school football field had even been converted to a tiny amusement park with a Ferris Wheel, carousel, and swing ride.

It was still early, and there was still a lot to do before the fair would be open, but the excitement was already palpable. After making sure your pies had been marked down for the auction, you beelined for the water gun race game that you and a lovely woman named Heather had been assigned to operate.

Too preoccupied with making sure you had the water tanks filled, the pumps were working, and your ticket box was in place you didn't notice how some of the other volunteers were acting strangely, making sidelong glances and meaningful head nods.

Nothing seemed amiss once Heather had joined you. In fact, you were getting along with her so well the two of you had already made plans to meet for coffee the next day.

Soon, the fair was in full swing. The games booths were a popular stop with families and you were having the time of your life cheering for every child who tried their hand at your game.

Eventually, there was a natural lull in the festivities as fair-goers drifted from the games towards the food and live entertainment. You were just suggesting making a quick snack run when Heather's phone rang.

"Sorry, one sec, it's my husband," she grimaced, holding her finger up to stop you from leaving.

In a bid to give her a modicum of privacy, you tallied up the tickets and bunched them into coils for easier counting later. Heather's normally calm voice rose in pitch and urgency, drawing your attention back to her in time to see a look of alarm and annoyance cross her face.

"What do you mean, burned? Like, burned burned? There's smoke?! Oh, honey, what on earth..." she paused, listening to her husband's voice some more, giving you an eye roll that clearly said 'Men. They're hopeless' and interrupted whatever he had been saying. "Alright, alright. It's slowing down here so I can run home."

Putting her phone back in her purse, Heather turned to you with a huff. "He's burnt dinner, and it sounds like my skillet is toast, too. I'm sorry to do this to you but I need to run to the store and bring dinner home. I've got the only car, so they're stuck."

Assuring her you could manage on your own, you shooed her away and told her to take her time.

Walking backward to wave goodbye, Heather kept spouting numerous apologies and promising she'd make it up to you on your coffee date. Giving one last smile she spun around and immediately ran into old Mrs. Crawley who was being escorted by no other than a very bored and trapped-looking Frankie Morales.

"Oh! Mrs. Crawley! So sorry!" She began, steadying the white-haired octogenarian, "I'm being called home, ditching my post, gotta run, bye!" With that, she was gone, weaving her way through the crowd of people.

Mrs. Crawley had glanced over at you when Heather had mentioned having to leave and was currently shuffling her way towards you, Frankie in tow.

"Frankie, be a dear and help this beautiful lady out while Heather is away."

It wasn't a question but you still felt the need to speak up, giving Frankie an out if he wanted it.

"I can manage-"

"But what about your-"

You'd both spoken at the same time and stopped mid-way through to let the other go first. Mrs. Crawley broke the silence instead.

"My hip is feeling much better, and I think I'll just make my way over to the bandstand," she gave Frankie a meaningful look accompanied by a rather sharper-than-expected slap to his cheek, "alone."

You both watched her walk over to the stage, stopping to wave at Jacquie and Agnes where they were organizing the bake sale.

"What on earth is going on," you thought to yourself while staring daggers at Jacquie from across the street. This had zero effect on her, she was just sending you lewd winks and had the audacity to give Mrs. Crawley a thumbs up. That conniving little-

"Emmmm... hi."

His voice, sounding uncertain and shy, brought your attention back to Frankie. Taking a moment to soak in his presence, you noticed how worn down he looked. "Good," thought the petty part of your brain, but she was easily squashed by the rest of it appreciating the rest of him.

Tight jeans hugging his thighs, the buttons on his shirt working overtime where the material pulled across his back and chest, his hair was long and getting shaggy but when you saw the curls peeking out from under his baseball cap you had to fight the sudden urge to run your fingers through it.

Your eyes traveled up his neck, noting the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, and across his face. He'd trimmed his beard, filthy thoughts of how it would feel on your skin flashed in your head.

Finally meeting his eyes with your own, you had to take a breath before replying.

"It's nice to see you, Frankie." Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, drawing his gaze "I guess we should talk-"

You were cut short by rowdy laughter and a crowd of people bustling onto the street, another wave of ticket-holders were coming to try their luck and win the huge teddy bear prize each game boasted.

For the next hour, you were kept too busy to talk more than what was necessary for running the booth. You used the time to gather your thoughts and make a list of what you wanted to say, how you wanted to say it, and how you were going to start the conversation casually.

Frankie wasn't sure how he had ended up as Mrs. Crawley's crutch. One minute he was dropping off a crate of fruit for the apple bobbing contest and the next he was walking at a snail's pace listening to the old woman reminiscing about her long-dead husband.

She was sweet, and he didn't mind the slow meander around the square. No, it was the subject matter that had bugged him. After his divorce was finalized and his daughter was taken from him, which he could see now was the right thing to do at the time, Frankie had accepted the fact that he was alone.

Just him, his trees, and the memories of what he did to end up this way.

Then, you had come along. The first woman to catch his attention in five damn years. It wasn't just your beauty, or your easy smile, or the curves of your body. It was your goodness, your innocence, your ability to worm your way into everyone's hearts and not even know it.

Listening to Mrs. Crawley and the love she had shared made his chest ache, knowing he'd never deserve it himself he still found himself longing for the same. The first moment he had laid eyes on you, it was like a movie about his life had played in flashes in his mind. The meet-cute at the market, romancing you with thoughtful dates like picnics and driving up to the city’s museums and theatre. Getting married, growing the business, then growing your family. It had all played out in a split second but the impression it had left was immeasurable.

Then, he'd opened his mouth and ruined the moment. Crashed into your truck and ruined the moment. Spooked and burned you, ruining the moment. Gained your trust, broke down your walls, and then left like a coward in the morning and ruined it.

Shaken by his inward reflecting when Mrs. Crawley was jostled, Frankie froze in place once his eyes were directed to where you stood. You were glaring over his shoulder and refusing to meet his eyes, understandably, yet he still felt his chest contract with the hope you'd look at him and smile.

The way your gaze had eventually taken him in, once he'd been abandoned by a suddenly spry-looking elder, had flared that longing back into a roaring flame. The sudden need to work the booth gave him plenty of time to plan his speech: begging for forgiveness and admitting to the way he felt. While his mind was busy planning his speech, his heart was bursting at how comfortably and effortlessly the two of you worked with each other, like you’d been doing it for years.

Heather returned, strolling over with a barely concealed smile on her face, not looking at all like she'd just come back from a domestic emergency. This whole town could win an Oscar for their performance tonight, it was mildly humiliating but you knew they were acting out of love.

She thanked Frankie profusely for standing in for her and wouldn't take no for an answer after suggesting the two of you go and enjoy yourselves for a bit. Glancing at Frankie you shrugged your shoulders and made a face that said "why not?". He smiled and nodded back, grabbing your bag and slinging it over his shoulder before joining you on the bustling street.

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, relishing just being near each other and absorbing the jubilant energy surrounding you.

Frankie bought you cotton candy and you made him belly laugh when you showed him the few bottles of cider you'd smuggled in your bag. Seeing the way his face lit up, how he exposed that delicious neck when he threw his head back, hearing the joyous rumble from deep within, sent a realization slamming into you so suddenly it made you stumble.

You loved him.

You might not be in love with him, not yet anyway, but there was a lightness and a warmth in your heart and he had put it there.

Frankie had grabbed your arm when you had stumbled and when you didn't pull away from his touch, his hand slid down your arm and his fingers wove their way through yours.

Walking like this, hand in hand, you found yourselves at the rides.

"I've never been on a Ferris Wheel," he admits to you, craning his head upwards to stare at the top carriage.

Dragging your eyes away from his neck, again, it took your brain a moment to acknowledge what he’d said. "What?!" You expressed with mock horror, already making your way toward the ride’s gate, "Then let's remedy that!"

"I'm- uh this is stupid," he was barely moving with you and adjusted his hat, a nervous tick you'd noticed, "I'm scared of heights."

This admission stopped you in your tracks.

"Frankie." You deadpanned, gripping his hand and pulling on it to emphasize your words, "You're. A. Pilot."

He groaned and you were sure you could see a blush creeping up from beneath his collar, "I know! I know. It's just that, up there?" He stops with a sigh, gazing at the stars wistfully, "I'm in control. I trust myself."

"Do you trust me?" You ask him softly gripping his hand between the both of yours.

Frankie gazed at your face for a breath, not in a way that made you think he was hesitating, it was more like he was pausing so you knew the full weight of his words.

"I trust you with everything."

PART NINE

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

Text

Curious Travels - Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader

- reader is part of my Of Monsters and Men series

Summary: Yet again has your humble bard dragged you and Geralt to another kingdom for whatever reason, though as the snow falls outside, you know just how to keep warm.

Warning: fluff, SMUT, some actual plot

Masterlist

Jumping off of your own horse you’re immediately greeted with the soft crunch of snow under your boots. Your pack of three mighty adventures have traveled all this way to the wintery mountainside kingdom of Turga for, as Jaskier would say, “food, festivities, and fun times to be had”. Not being one to ever walk away from such intriguing tidings, you’ve made it a point to accompany Jaskier on his trek to the kingdom.

Geralt on the other hand could absolutely not be bothered in the slightest to come for such “fun times to be had” but he loves you and begrudgingly decided to follow the two of you anyways.

The whole ordeal of traveling had taken about a week, through forest and fields, streams to pass and bridges to cross, until finally at last your horses had reached snow. And more importantly the wooden post naming the direction of said mountain kingdom, causing your bard to become even more chipper and talkative then usual.

Much to your amusement and Geralt’s silent moody frustration, though he would have liked to smack the bard across his head or quite possibly snap that lute in two. Watching your face light up at Jaskier’s jokes and stories from before he met both you and Geralt, so far has kept the grumbly Witcher to himself, just being able to see your beaming face is enough to make this trip all the better.

Though he’s still doubtful anything fantastic will actually come out of this journey in any way, considering most travels with the two of you end rather poorly.

You’re eyes grew big once they spotted the snowy glowing city of Turga sitting comfortably atop a silver hill in all her beautiful glory. Jaskier wasn’t fooling, this place is absolutely magnificent, it’s like a true winter wonderland.

Great evergreens stand tall at the large wooden gates of the town, two guards dressed in silver armor and a red sash over their breast greet you three with generous smiles of welcome tidings that take you more off center then you’d ever expected. How strange it is not to be looked down upon, or scrutinized by people who always tend to think the worst.

Jaskier simply grins, clearly knowing something you and your grouchy Witcher do not, but what could that possibly be, then again it isn’t exactly abnormal. Following closely behind, you and Geralt lead your horses along the snow covered streets as Jaskier leads the way to the stables.

The whole time your eyes have been wide in awe at the beautiful surroundings of the town, lanterns held up by steel chains hang in a line above your heads. Dashing evergreens keep watch from their various positions in the square. Oddly enough the stables look cozy, decorative pines are hung at the front doors, and from the opened windows you can see on the inside that there are rafters kept along with ornamental little flags of a hundred colors.

Soon enough the face of a dirt smudge stable boy races out of the wooden door, a wreath on the back of it jostles at the quick unexpected movement. Although on further inspection you realize he is a sylvan once you notice the two hooves peaking out from under his oversized cloak, he smiles brightly at the three of you while his big shimmering eyes shine a soft pink as he shuffles through the snow to Jaskier’s steed.

“Vallo Vaskier! Hove yuv bveen!” Exclaims the boy in a peculiar accent with a smile that could light up a room.

“Oh you know..” Shrugs the bard, “A bit of this a bit of that. But here’s something....I have made some loyal companions on my travels, they’re a real time, it’s been great honestly...although a tad bit dangerous at times but eh I’m still breathing.” He laughs, “So anyways, when’s the grand feast at the lady of winters hall?”

The boys face turns into a thrilled grin, “Are you performing?”

Jaskier glances to you before turning back to the kid, “Of course I am. Didn’t just travel all the way up here for nothing. So uh, when’s the feast?”

“Oh, right the veast. You hev to be invited first. But I vouldn’t vorry to vuch, vord alveys spreads vhen you’re here Vaskier.” States the stable boy with a curt nod.

“Boy you got any taverns close?” He snaps his head up to you, curls bouncing in the process as he gives a shy smile before nodding.

“Of course mviss. Vaskier knows ver they are.”

A smirk plays at your lips as you find the bards gaze, “I should have know.” You mutter, turning your head to find Geralt, “Now to find that tavern.” You add suggestively with a quick wink. Causing your man to hand you the smallest of smiles in knowing acknowledgment.

“Alright, Finn. Take this pretty lady to her home for the night. You’ve got two others who’ll need a stall.” States Jaskier as he nods to his horse, “And uh, the one with the scary face and white hair, be good to his mare. She’s very special to him, more then the half-vampire that rides with us and..Oh! Oww! Y/N don’t hit me woman!” Stammers the bard as you fold your arms across your chest.

A smirk upon your lips at his flustered reaction, “What was that about Roach being more special then me? You didn’t finish what you where going to say.”

“Well I would have if I wasn’t assaulted first.” Assures Jaskier, turning back to the kid, “Anyways, we’re ready to find our stead’s a place for the night. Well perhaps a couple nights, we may be here for a few days give or take.”

“A few days? He never said anything about that?” Grumbles Geralt in that familiar gravelly voice of his, “Y/N did he mention a few days?”

Grasping your horses leather reigns in one hand, you rest the other on Geralt’s broad cloaked shoulder, “Oh where’s your festive spirit? Come on love this is gonna be fun. I can feel it.”

Turning to follow Jaskier and the stable boy into the barn, Geralt tugs for Roach to start walking, rolling his golden eyes as he watches you swagger into the large pine rimmed entrance. Though a small tinge of excitement rushes throughout his body when remembering that subtle wink you shared with him only moments ago.

Your crimson irises light up at the colorful flags and cozy barn atmosphere, perfect for the tired horses that so desperately could use a good rest. You’re never this impressed by such festive decorations most times, but it’s been a long while since you’ve bared witness to such things. It feels rather nice, and anyways, another adventure with your boys is always welcomed.

The stable boy quickly takes Jaskier’s horse to get settled for the night, leaving yourself to find your own stable and Geralt to do the same. You turn, leading your own mare into a hay covered stall and doing what you can to help her feel more comfortable.

Taking off her saddle, you lay it off to the side, going now to brush her brown back, smoothing her fur down as you do. While so lost in your own little world you can’t help but begin rambling about your thoughts to the patient horse.

“Now since it’s come to mind...I think this place isn’t too bad, ya know? I haven’t really met any of the townsfolk so my true impression of the people here have yet to be determined. Although I’m not really getting a hostile feeling coming from this place so that’s good.” The mare snorts in reply, or at least you think she does, causing you to chuckle at the horses timely reaction, “Yes, my friend that’s exactly what I was thinking but you already new that and now I am talking to a horse.....and Geralt is standing right over there isn’t he.” You rush, whispering the last part to your horse.

Geralt leans his large frame against the wooden stalls door, a small amused smirk pulling at his lips as he watches you brush the mare. “Not strange at all. I think they understand, in their own way.”

“Maybe it’s because I travel with you too much, look at me, I’m talking to a horse.” You mutter with a small laugh, “Though I guess their company can be better then an actual persons. I have a feeling you know my meaning.”

He smiles again, looking around the barn until his golden eyes find yours once more, “Better then most.”

You gently tilt your head in a small nod, brushing the last of the mares ruffled hide before setting the brush down. Then reaching for your belongings that are hanging from a metal hook inches from Geralt.

He politely steps to the side as you take your cloak and sheathed silver dagger from off of the hook, bundling them under your arm you take a step forward past him, stopping for a moment to not-so-subtly trail your eyes up to his handsome face.

“See something interesting?” He muses, eyeing you up just the same causing a swarm of butterflies to make themselves know in your stomach.

Biting your lip you refrain from pushing him against the wooden wall and kissing him like your life depends on it, deciding to instead hug your things tighter and give him a small fangy smile.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Is all you can whisper out as you swiftly turn on your heel to go and find Jaskier before you change your mind and pounce on your Witcher like a cat to her prey.

It doesn’t take long to find him, the bard is casually seated on some blocks of hay as he gently strums on his lute while the stable boy brushes his horse for him. Jaskier is so caught up in his own world of playing that he neglects to notice when you’re standing directly in front of him.

“Jask!” You vocalize loudly, causing the entranced bard to jump and just about drop his prized lute if not for the strap.

“My gods Y/N, warn a man would you.” He sputters, setting himself a bit straighter once again as he gathers his bearings, “I could have dropped my dear lady just now.”

Taking a couple steps backwards towards Geralt, you chuckle, “In that case, I’ll try harder next time.”

Jaskier sends you a silent dirty look, causing Geralt to slip a couple hushed snickers out from behind you. “Alright bard..” Starts your Witcher, “where’s the nearest tavern? Considering it’s late and we’re all hungry.”

Jumping to his feet, Jaskier nods, “Right. Right. Of course, a tavern would be nice. Well my friend...and Y/N...let’s go find one.”

“Yes let’s.” Mutters Geralt, annoyance lacing his voice as Jaskier practically swaggers past the two of you, lute tightly in hand.

You turn to follow, nudging Geralt’s shoulder as you step past him, “Come on my White Wolf, let’s find that tavern. I could use a good rest, how about you?” The wink you send him is all but enough to fill his mind with wondrous thoughts for how his evening may truly end.

His heart admittedly fills with warmth and excitement as he watches you trail Jaskier out of the barn and into the wintery night air. Soft cool snowflakes kiss your warm skin as you stand in the silver wonderland, waiting for your Witcher to catch up.

A pleased smirk shows itself upon your face as you turn your head up to the dark clouds, enjoying the feeling of the small ice crystals as they float all around you. The night is absolutely divine, as you enjoy the small white puffs of air leaving forth from out of your mouth and nostrils.

You feel no chill from the harsh winter air, though you’re surprised when a certain someone unexpectedly attempts to throw a snowball at your back. Hearing the ball of ice swishing in the crisp air, you step inhumanly quick to the side.

A burst of laughter falls forth from your lips when the snow crashes into the shoulder of Jaskier as he looks from house to house trying to remember where the tavern is. He jumps back, his blue eyes wide as he snaps his jostled attention over to you, and the snowy haired man smirking from behind you.

“That was—was....Y/N!” Grumbles the bard with an angry pout before he begins to smile and eventually shake with laughter as well.

Chuckling still, you turn a raised brow to Geralt as he simply shrugs, “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yeah okay, Sir. I-Didn’t-Even-Want-To-Come...” Suddenly your eyes narrow causing Geralt to loose his amusement, “You tried to hit me with a snowball, you fucker.”

Geralt takes a cautious step closer to you, a pleading look crossing his features, “And now I know how well your reflexes are.”

“You already know how well my reflexes are.”

“Yes. But...” He pauses for a moment, trying to think of what to say next as you await an answer, finally he takes another step closer, bringing his hand to tilt your head up with the tips of his fingers. His face so close now you can feel his hot breath against your skin, “I’ll deal with your wrath all night long if that’s what you’d wish.”

Gently removing his hand away from your face, you lean in even closer, your lips practically brushing past his own, “I think that is a deliciously appealing proposition, my love.”

Geralt has no time to answer before you swiftly shift away from him, leaving the man with his thoughts and slightly tighter pants as he watches you walk over to Jaskier once again, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him.

It took about a good fifteen minutes to actually track down the tavern of Jaskier’s choice, an admittedly large and homey hall appropriately called The Silver Faun Inn. Quite the name for quite the tavern, as per usual when walking into anywhere on the continent in a place like this.

Your marry band of three was immediately greeted with a multitude of cautious glares and many other intrigued excited glances. Though to your relief, no one dares bother either of you while you make to find a quiet corner for the late hour of the darkening evening.

Soon fresh food and tasteful ale is to be had, filling the three of you up just enough to be satisfied for the night, but not too much, you’ve got plans for later. Plans that are so obviously unnoticed by the titular bard who’s now decided the tavern is in desperate need of entertainment.

Leaning into Geralt’s strong side, a lazy smirk upon your face, you watch in amusement as Jaskier joyously strums his favorite lute. “Don’t think I’ve heard that ballot before.” You whisper.

Your quiet Witcher hums in reply, earning him a light friendly squeeze to his forearm that rests on the table next to yours, “The enthusiasm radiating off of you is just, astounding.” You chuckle, burying your face into his shoulder.

Geralt smiles affectionately at your adorable reaction to his less then impressive one, his heart swells with more silent joy when you pull away once again. Only to stop yourself from speaking, your scarlet irises so caught up in your lovers humored face.

You remain quiet for a moment, your face stoic though your eyes crinkle with mischief before you finally break out into a large beaming grin. Without a second thought, Geralt leans in to gently press his plush inviting lips against yours for a beautiful moment of love and lust.

He feels so lovely, you can tell just how much he truly wants you, but all to soon does he pull away, “I think we should find that room, what do you say Y/N?”

Biting your lip, you stare longingly into his golden eyes, “Fantastic idea. I got the keys so let’s get outta here.”

In a heartbeat do the two of you slip from the taverns quiet corner to wander past your oblivious bard as he belts out another marvelous tune that sends the crowd into fits of song and laughter. Soon all is forgotten and left to the back of your minds as you lead your Witcher up the steps and down to the end of the hallway where your room just so happens to be.

Quickly going to unlock it, you’re bewildered when the little metal key won’t turn left, huffing in frustration you try and force it as gently as you can muster. Geralt leans an arm against the doorframe doing nothing to help you focus on your new task at hand.

“Y/N just turn it left.”

“I am turning it left.”

“More gently.”

“I am turning it gently.”

“How much did you drink?” He chuckles.

Snapping your head to him you playfully make a face, “Same as you idiot, now if only I could fucking get this bitch open then we could...” Errreck. Crack. “Oh fuck me.” You deadpan.

“I’m trying.” Muses Geralt.

Smacking Geralt against his arm you take a step away from the broken lock, “Dammit. I broke the fucking key....and I think the lock too.”

“Can you open it now?”

Sighing in annoyance you raise a brow at your man, “Well uh, guess we’ll find out.”

Turning towards the thick wooden mahogany door with its freshly broken lock, you nervously reach a hand up to turn the golden door handle, sucking in a breath you twist the knob only to be met with resistance.

Pursing your lips together you lean your head against the door, “Whoever made these shit locks I’ll fucking cut their hands off cause apparently they don’t need them anymore with whatever kinda fuckery this is.” You growl.

All you wanna do is get it on with Geralt, this is not helping.

“You could just force the door.” Suggests Geralt.

“I’m not forcing the door love, I really don’t need a bounty on me for breaking a knob.”

“Well, guess we’ll just have to sleep in Jaskier’s room tonight then.” Replies your Witcher with a shit eating grin, he knows just how much you want him right now. And so help you god if you don’t get what you want when it comes to a night with Geralt of Rivia.

“No! No! I can handle the fucking door!” You sass.

Taking a step back into the hallway, he folds his arms over his chest, “Alright then. Open the door Y/N.” Smirks Geralt, urging you to create some chaos.

Huffing, you take a step back, readying yourself to charge the grand mahogany door. The smirk on your Witcher’s face is admittedly smackable or kissable, you just can’t bring it in you to focus on anything else but opening this door. He watches in anticipation as you charge, hands out and ready to force open the closed entrance as you make hasty steps for the tavern room.

Without warning the giant door swings opens, taking you off guard as you fly through the new opening and into the grand room before falling to the hard floor with a grunt. Your chin smacks the wooden floorboards with a thwack sound, your opened palms doing just the same when you land.

“Ouch.” You mutter, lifting yourself up from the ground, turning when your nose catches the scent of someone new.

Snapping to your right, you’re caught with big brown fearful eyes of a young maid, “Oh, uh....your room is ready miss.”

Not aware of the less then friendly grimace adorning your face, Geralt steps into the room before you decide to shove the girl out yourself, “Sorry. The lock wasn’t working, I think we may have broken it.”

Quickly snapping out of her frightened trance, the girl turns a nervous eye to your Witcher, “Um, that key you have there...it’s not the right one. I’ll just uh....leave then.” She whispers, her eyes never leaving yours as she hastily slips out of the room and down the hallway.

Geralt gently closes the door, shoving a chair under the handle to create a makeshift lock while you take a couple steps forward over to the large mattress, resting a hand on the bed. He turns to you, “Well that was...”

“Entertaining much?” You scoff, rubbing your split chin, “I think I’m bleeding....no yeah, I’m definitely bleeding.”

Geralt hums, nodding before walking over to find a small spare cloth on the nearby table, “Sit on the bed I’ll clean you up.”

Doing just as directed you sit, watching as your silver haired lover walks across the room to seat himself next to you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Rolling your eyes you pout, “Funny is it? The things I do for you, and now my fucking chin hurts.”

Suddenly his eyes go soft, though there still remains a tinge of humor in them, “Y/N, you’ve already healed and the pain will die soon enough....here, let me just clean the blood away.” He mutters, reaching his arm up to press the pale cloth against your blood smudged skin.

Fine, ignore my pain you ass.

Though you’re still annoyed, the feeling of being tended to by Geralt is enough to dissipate away all your recent frustrations and brewing anger. Sending you into a blissful minute of staring lazily into your mans pretty golden eyes like a dazed lover.

Once he’s confident all the blood is gone, he sets the pink cloth in his lap, saying nothing as the two of you stare deeply into the eyes of one another, the sexual tension of the room rising by the second. You slip out a soft breath, the tiniest of smiles pulling at your lips.

“This is the part where you kiss my pain away. Right here.” You point at your chin, just below your lips. His golden eyes dart down, following your directions.

Ever so meticulously slowly does he lean in closer, the blood smudged cloth left and forgotten as it falls to the floor when his large hands go to touch your face. His lips press softly onto your chin, then cheek, then the other, and another two over your jawline. Earning a satisfied hum of approval from you, much to Geralt’s satisfaction.

Your own hands grasp onto his thick forearms, the rest of yourself feeling rather warm all over as Geralt kisses all over your face, slowly as ever.

“You know..” Kiss, “Geralt, mhmm....my lips are right here...” You mutter, just as he presses a heated one onto the preferred area you’ve asked. He tastes so sweet, like the ale he drank earlier in the evening, but this is admittedly much better then any ale you’ve ever drank.

Soon his hands fall to your waist and arm, then to many other places as he decides to explore your body with his calloused hands. Not being one to hold back, you do just the same, earning a low husky moan from deep within his throat when you palm him just to see what’s going on down there.

Fortunately he’s decently hard, the fabric of his dark pants are nicely stretched out from what pleasantries await you soon enough. Leaving him be for the moment, you gently break away from his sweet lips.

“Oh don’t give me that look.” You chuckle at the annoyed expression adorning his handsome features, “I’m just, rather wet down here and I’d like to get things rolling. Though don’t get me wrong I could kiss those lips of yours all fucking day.” You add, deliberately doing your best to give him your bedroom eyes.

He pauses for a second, his eyes trailing from your clothed nether regions all the way up to your shimmering lust filled gaze, “You’re already wet?”

Rolling your eyes you reach out to pull him further up the bed, “Oh fuck off, you’re already harder then a frozen ice cycle and that was before we even got into this room so shut uh uhh mhmm...” Is all you’re able to ramble out before he’s attacked your neck again with those beautifully plush lips of his, the rest of his body hovering just above you as he rests a knee between your parted thighs.

His lips leave a wet trail all the way down your throat until they reach the edge of your tops laced fabric, where a clear V is had that reaches down to the area between your breasts. He kisses once on the lace and exposed skin on your sternum, then another further down.

He’s just about driving you wild with the frustratingly grand lack of friction in certain areas that are so desperately craving such attention. Done with his teasing you lightly tug at his long white hair.

“Geralt just fuck me already.” You mumble, sucking in a quick breath when he gently squeezes your breast without warning.

Kissing your cheek, his face remains mere inches from your own as he stares mischievously into your crimson eyes, “We may need to take some clothes off first.” He chuckles, planting a quick kiss to your lips before sitting back on the bed.

Laying there, body hot and pulsing with pleasure unreleased, you hastily sit up and fumble as fast as you can to remove your grey top. Flinging it to the floor as your eyes find Geralt’s once again, though this time he’s completely shirtless.

Drinking up every last little piece of your muscular Witcher, you bite your lip as he smiles at you, “And that’s a sight I could look at everyday.” You just about swoon at his quick witted words, no doubt feeling a bit heated the longer he stares at you.

Winking at him, you swiftly shed the thin dark material calling itself an undershirt, a playful gleam in your eye as you watch Geralt quickly find your two exposed breasts. Beautiful and soft, your nibbles perked at the arousal coursing throughout your entire vessel.

Wanting to be bold, you wiggle a brow at him before confidently standing, your eyes never leaving his. He watches with an intrigued curious gaze before you begin unbuttoning your black trousers, earning another blissful smirk across the mans face.

Soon enough are all the buttons finally undone, with a spectacular dramatic bow do you then go to shimmy out of your pants, kicking them to the wooden floor in a rush as you’re now left in nothing but your small whole filled and slightly ripped underwear.

As to be expected, Geralt reaches a hand out to touch your exposed legs, getting nothing but a quick playful kick to his hands as you hum in disapproval. Instead you go to set a hand on your hip, nodding your head for him to remove his own concealing attire.

He hums in reply, standing to his full height as you unabashedly watch him fully undress himself, tossing his pants and undergarments to the floor ever so dramatically. He stares you down with those big beautiful golden eyes of his, you keep your sights locked onto them and painfully ignore his now exposed member that’s hard and dripping with pre-cum.

Biting your lip, you try your absolute best to keep from smiling, “Fuck me I love you so much.” You speak breathlessly, your eyes turning more serious again, “Now sit, please.”

Geralt hums, seating himself upon the soft billowy mattress just as directed, deciding to lean back on his arms and let his body lay open and ready for you. Blinking slowly you finally reveal a pleased smile down at him, just about mirroring the same one that he’s handing you so freely, just like his body.

Slowly you walk forward on the bed, your legs held firmly to either side of his lower waist as you kneel down, hovering your soaked womanhood right above his glistening member. You let out a breathy chuckle, resting your palms against his broad shoulders as he does the same action but with your bare hips.

“May I?” You politely ask, leaning your head against his as he gently squeezes the flesh of your hips in reply.

“Of course.” He mutters, low and gravelly in your ear as he patiently awaits your body, his very heart about to explode with how much he loves you right now.

Parting your legs wider, you remove one hand from his shoulder to quickly grasp his thick cock, “Alright let me just...” Bringing it to your dripping entrance you line it up perfectly, “I’m coming in..” You laugh, “literally.”

“Y/N you don’t have to say it...”

Digging your fingers into the side of his shoulder you quickly tilt your head to shut him up with a kiss, “Yes, but you laughed.” Pulling back to look at your face, Geralt’s mouth opens to reply, though his words are left on the wind when you slowly slide yourself onto him.

The new welcoming warmth of your core sending his mind swirling with nothing but a colorful bliss. Yours about the same, he’s big as he sinks deeper and deeper into your body until finally he’s completely filled you up.

Closing your eyes, your face scrunches up in slight discomfort at the new thrilling contact, this feeling isn’t anything new it’s just he’s quite large and you need a couple moments to adjust before the real fun begins. Sensing your slight displeasure, he keeps still inside you, trailing a comforting hand over your cheek as he watches your brows furrow together as you adjust.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I don’t mean to hurt you.” Worries your beautiful Witcher as you open your glistening scarlet irises to find his concerned face.

Shaking your head you slowly roll your hips into his, “Never. Apologize for a big dick Geralt....you’re honestly about to work wonders so keep that pretty mouth shut and make me scream.”

Holding in his laughter, he decides to do just as you’ve asked, a second later do you gasp in surprise when both his hands dig into your hips. Pushing you down onto him even more as he pulls you with each roll of your hips against his. Creating a blissful synced rhythm that begins to bring a low pleasurable build into your soaked core.

He suddenly thrusts up into you as you bounce down on him over and over again, your chests rubbing against one another as you both attempt to hold each other’s gazes for as long as you can try. The room feels hot and sticky, the smells of sex, sweat, and Geralt filling into your sensitive nostrils that drives you mad with lust.

All that can be heard is the familiar slapping of skin on skin as you both move against one another in quick passionate motions. Without warning Geralt thrusts deeply into your sweet spot sending you into a flurry of moaned curses as he thrusts his strong hips into you over and over again.

Your body falls flush against his as you whimper and moan into his shoulder from the intense buildup of pure pleasure that he’s slowly filling you with by the second. He can tell you’re close and with that thought in mind you’re pleasantly surprised when he abruptly holds your back, keeping you against him as he quickly lays you onto the soft mattress.

You audibly moan at the new positioning, not being able to hold back any more whimpers of pleasure as he fucks you into the comfortable bedding like his life depends on it. You’re visibility sweaty now, the slickness of yourself and Geralt doing everything to increase your growing pleasure as he slides in and out of you like a crazed man gone years without a proper fucking.

Another moan escapes from your lips as Geralt bounds you into the mattress, hitting you with deep precise thrusts each and every time, leaving you with nothing to keep you steady but his bare back that no doubt is covered in fresh pink scratch marks.

He keeps flush against your body, his manhood buried deep within your parted thighs as he intertwines his fingers with yours, his lips so soft and inviting as they press against your neck and jaw. You can’t remember if you’re ever felt such pleasure from this man as he pulls you to the edge of oblivion.

He suddenly moans against your ear sending new waves of bliss deep into your core and just like that do you come, moaning his name over and over again as he relentlessly thrusts into you with all that he has left.

He grips your hands tight, his warm seed spilling into you a second later, causing you to squeeze your legs tighter against his, “Ugh fuck Geralt.” You moan, your lips brushing past his as he pumps into you for a few more blissful moments before he falls limp against your body.

Utterly spent with your heated love making session, you chuckle at his honestly adorable actions as he lays flush with you, his cock still buried deep inside. He may be a large heavy man, but you’re no common human woman who lays underneath this handsome Witcher.

It’s plain as anyone could see, though you’d cut the throats of anyone bold enough to take a peek at your secretive actions.

Humming in content, Geralt moves to lay at your side, bringing you along with him so that he can stay inside you for a bit longer. You smirk, holding him close as he does the same, “A little needy tonight are we?” You muse, placing a chaste kiss against his puffy red lips.

“Maybe I missed you in more ways then one.” He replies, his golden eyes finding your crimson ones, “It certainly doesn’t help that Jaskier is always with us when we set up camp. I never get a true moment to myself with you.”

Trailing a hand down his scar covered back, you smile once again, “Well you’re about to get a whole week with me if you’re lucky. And I’m looking forward to every single second of it.”

The way you make him feel cannot ever truly be expressed in Geralt’s mind, though you can tell he loves you deeply even when no words are said at all or perhaps when he gets flustered and stumbles on his tongue for the right ones. Though right now he seems to have you vexed, completely entranced and utterly opened and surrendered to him.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same, his eyelids close in content as you gently trail your fingers down his cheekbone, earning a low hum from deep within his throat that sends shivers down your spine even with something so innocent as this.

You break out into a grin, your fangs showing as you let out a couple chuckles once you realize he’s still inside you. His own lips curl into a tired smile, though he doesn’t open his eyes. “Y/N?” He mutters, wondering what on earth could be so funny right now.

Pushing a few stray hairs out of his face you blink, trying to contain yourself once more, “Oh nothing, you’re just being....dare I say, cute. And all things considered, you’re still inside me.”

Geralt shows you a lazy grin, “I like being inside you.”

“Yes and what if I have to relieve myself, or get a drink?”

“I see no problem when you’re lucky enough to be laying next to me.”

Fake scoffing you gently tug on his silver locks, “Geralt of Rivia you’re blessed enough I love you so much you ass.”

Finally he opens his eyes, the most adorable of smiles crossing his face, and only for you, “Well I guess someone has to.”

“Yes.” You smirk, “And I’ll make disappear the next confidant fucker who dare think to take you away from me.”

“So I’m assuming that last tavern wench we met a month ago went missing....not, under mysterious circumstances?” He wonders, a brow raised in humored accusation.

Rolling your scarlet irises, you give him a friendly pat over his bare shoulder, “I wasn’t appreciating that foxy look she was giving you, looked like a horny buck ready to pounce.” The look he gives you is enough to make you burst with laughter, “What? Don’t give me that face Geralt, I didn’t do anything adherently evil....all I did was leave her in the middle of the woods...near another town!” You protest, trying to make your little petty adventure sound less terrible.

“Well, at least you were nice about it,” Muses Geralt, “though I’m not sure if that’s better.”

“Oh shut it, I couldn’t help myself if you’d like to know alri...” Knock. Knock. Knock. Three raps against the thick bedroom door immediately draws your attention away from Geralt. Propping his head up by his elbow, he turns a protective glare at the mystery person keeping themselves on the other side.

Wanting to snap at the hidden individual who dare break you away from your rather pleasant evening, you push away from the soft comfort of the mattress, quickly pulling out of Geralt, you maneuver yourself into a seated position. “I’ll see who it is, can’t be anyone with a personal vendetta against us, well.....at least I don’t think so.”

Pursing his lips together in slight apprehension, Geralt silently watches you slip from the bed with nothing but a thin white sheet to keep your nakedness from any prying eyes. Your steps to the barred door are swift and silent as an owl in flight, just the same when you remove the chair from the door knob.

With one hand on the golden knob and the other grasped tightly onto the bunched up bed sheet, you turn a curious glance to Geralt who’s now seated fully upright on the mattress, a thin sheet covering his previously exposed manhood.

Finding your sights upon the door once again, you turn the knob, swiftly opening the door where you’re both greeted with the nervous wide eyed face of a young elven boy, who looks only to be about fourteen, dressed in lord-like attire. A suspiciously high status pose about him that sends your brows furrowing in confusion for this strange unexpected intrusion.

Wearing a soft purple scarf over a pure white thick fur laced jacket, his green eyes shift warily from you to your shirtless Witcher then back to you again. His cheeks most certainly reddening the longer he stares, mouth slightly agape, clearly this kid was not expecting the sight before him.

Deciding to relieve the awkward atmosphere, you clear your throat, “Well you certainly don’t look like an assassin, nor do you appear to be ready with coin for a wanted killing. So, do relieve us of this suspense...I was kind of in the middle of something important.” You state, the tone of your voice appearing slightly annoyed even when you try and hide it.

His big emerald irises flicker as he blinks, swallowing his nerves, does the elven boy in the fancy coat and purple scarf stand a bit straighter, “Hello. I am Venemyr of Rorym, messenger to Queen Allira and her husband King Gabriel of this winter kingdom of Turga.” He stammers, eyes shifting nervously from Geralt to you, suddenly he pulls out a folded piece of white and gold craftsmanship in the form of a beautiful card.

His hand shakes slightly as he reaches out for you to take the concealed letter, finding no ill intent from the boy, you fearlessly accept. Once in your hand does he finally begin his explanation, “I come to ask the Princess Y/N of Alkatraz and the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, if they will accept this invitation to the King and Queen’s eldest son’s banquet as special guests of honor.”

Oh, now things have just gotten very intriguing.

Not positive on how to correctly respond to this large proposition, the young elven messenger nods, “My adversaries had been made aware of you two by a bard named Jaskier who is thought of warmly in this kingdom, then it appeared that the eldest prince became very interested in meeting a lady dhampir and a Witcher of Kaer Morhen.”

Oh, Jaskier you motherfucker.

Smiling politely, Vesemyr watches with wide foresty eyes when he catches sight of your fangs, noticing his apparent change of demeanor, your face falls, “Uh, well, thank you for the message and this invitation? We’ll see to it soon, and without a doubt report back accordingly sometime tomorrow.”

“The banquet is in two days.”

“Is it now?” You reply in a knowing tone, your brows raising, “Good to know, now if you’ll excuse us...the hour is late and you’d better get to wherever you’ve come from before it gets any colder outside.” And with that said do you flash him a wink before slamming the door into his scared little face and high end attire without a second thought.

Looking down at the strange yet exquisite invitation placed in your hand, you turn it over and find the golden waxes seal of a house sigil. “Y/N come to bed, I think I’d like to have a look at whatever fuckery Jaskier has roped us into.”

Raising your attention back up to the naked man seated casually against the headboard, you smile, making swift steps to the mattress before launching yourself next to his side causing the bed to shift and creak at your jostling movement. Instead of finding his annoyed expression, you’re fortunately greeted with an arm pulling you flush against his side.

With the two of you wrapped up in the white bedsheets, leaning comfortably on one another does Geralt slowly take the parchment from out of your hand. He holds the letter up, studying it’s beauty in the side table’s candle light as you rest your head on his shoulder with one arm slung over his muscular waist.

His breaths are slow and calm, the rise and fall of his chest gently pushing you up and then back down again only ever so slightly while your Witcher carefully observes the golden wax of the houses sigil. “A stag, with a crown of leaves....should we open it?” Muses Geralt, fully aware of how much you want to see what’s inside.

Geralt I swear to god.

Gently giving his waist a loving squeeze, you nod, “If you’d be so kind.” Humming in reply, Geralt makes quick work of the letter, soon its cut open and pulled out for your eyes to witness its ink marked contents.

“Fuck.” Mutters Geralt dismally, “Guess that kid wasn’t fucking with us.”

“And I guess we’re going to a party.” You exclaim, much more excitement flowing through your voice then what Geralt could ever give.

He quickly turns his head down to you, “Y/N no. I don’t give a shit if this prince wants to speak with us, I have no interest in becoming involved in something like that.”

You lightly chuckle at his less then stellar mood before turning your face to press a chaste kiss to his bare shoulder, he sighs, meeting your crimson gaze once again, “Think of it, free drink and food, and this prince wants to see us....we’re practically the guests of honor and I cannot wait to see Jaskier tomorrow cause I’m gonna slap him for it...then I’ll thank him.”

“Ugh, fine.” Begrudgingly mutters Geralt as you press your lips to his.

Maybe a part 2 later on, idk we’ll see. Hope you enjoyed this :)

Tagged for series: @seninjakitey @notahappytree @ashleyforeverareject @sokkasdarling @kmuir1@haleypearce @diegos-butt (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt imagine #geralt x you #geralt x y/n

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thewitchandtheassassin · 4 years ago

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Unplanned Plans (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: Day Eleven - Surprise date while working late.

Words: 659

Warnings: None?

A/N: Three more to go, holy shit, everything’s almost fixed (maybe?)

Taglist: @natasharomanoffswife @natasha-danvers @aaron-despair @username23345 @xjiasx @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova @summergeezburr @imnotasuperhero @miscmarvelwritings @marvels-writings @onlyafewfindtheway @captain-josslett @hayleyokami

-X-

Planning a date with your girlfriend was always a gamble and never set in stone. It was merely a tentative “suggestion” that may or may not end up being rescheduled half a dozen times. Being an Avenger meant she had little free time and while she spent almost all of it with you, sometimes things just never worked out the way they were supposed to. Be it an injury or a world-ending catastrophe – nothing was off the table.

But today was supposed to be special. One year together…

It was supposed to be a celebration, right?

So instead of being deterred by the apologetic, exhausted messages sent to your phone, you devised a plan. It wasn’t a lot you could do – obviously there was only so much you could drag into the Compound without security giving you weird looks or unintentionally ruining your surprise – but with a picnic basket in hand and a sucker-for-love Avenger waiting for you at the front desk, you strolled into the building with a huge, appreciative smile.

“Hey, Captain,” you greeted with a one-armed hug, careful not to jostle the basket swinging precariously on your other arm. “Thank you for coming down here.”

“Of course, (Y/N),” Steve beamed, whisking you past the people most likely to stop you if it weren’t for America’s hero sweeping you away. “I know Nat was really looking forward to today. I thought she was going to kill Ross when he dropped all that work on her desk.”

“He really needs to lay off,” you mumbled, stepping to the elevator and sifting through your little basket as you watched the doors close. Fishing out a cookie, you offered it to the surprisingly gentle man. “I know he’s paid to be a hard ass but he’s doing nothing but hindering you guys.”

Steve cheerfully accepted the treat, taking a bite out of the freshly baked indulgence. “Well, he’s definitely got Tony drinking the Kool-Aid.”

Rolling your eyes, you watched the numbers steadily rise. “Tony’s a genius…but he’s an idiot. He always thinks he’s right, even if a million sources say he’s wrong. He’s a good man but sometimes he never sees past his own nose.”

Mouth open, whether to agree or differ you’d never know, Steve went silent as the elevator dinged. He carefully guided you down the hall, occasionally nibbling on the cookie as he eyed the doors.

“Here we are,” he muttered quietly, winking at you. “Have a good anniversary, (Y/N). Make sure Nat doesn’t have a choice but to take a break.”

Nudging him playfully, your hand fell to the doorknob and you slowly turned it. Hunched over, combing through what seemed like hours of paperwork, was your girlfriend. Her expression was one of concentration though you could see the tension in her bunched brows and the way she chewed her lip.

“I swear to God, Steve, if you tell me to forget this stuff and go see (Y/N) one more time, you’ll be meeting the same fate as Ross. I’m trying to finish it as fast as possible,” Natasha growled, eyes never straying from the lines of the documents. “But even Russian spy skills can’t shuffle through all of this bullshit.”

“I guess it’s good I’m not Steve then,” you remarked, smirking as her eyes shot up to meet yours. “Though I wouldn’t threaten him too much. He did help put this together after all.”

“I…” Natasha was, for the first time in your relationship, utterly speechless. Emeralds jumped between you and the basket, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. “What?”

“I know you’re busy,” you explained sweetly, offering the basket shyly. “So I thought I’d come to you instead. That way neither of us is spending our anniversary alone.”

It was evident in the way Natasha seemed to melt that she was barely holding her emotions together. Deep and suddenly shiny, her eyes screamed what her mouth couldn’t.

I love you.

“Happy anniversary, Nat.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanov imagine #black widow imagine #black widow x reader #MCU fic #mcu imagine #marvel cinematic universe #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #Avengers #natasha romanoff #reader imagine #reader insert

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tarithenurse · 4 years ago

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Spark - 25

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shōbōtai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Angst, feels, danger, stubbornness. The usual. A/N: Manage to get myself pretty confused because it said I’d already posted 25 chapters on AO3 but here on Tumblr it only claimed 24...aaaand then I remembered posting the what-if directly in the story there but not here...so yeah! Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

25. Forged by fire

... Reader ...

Your brain is protesting as you wake up. No, scratch that. Your entire body is throbbing as you’re being jostled by each step of the one carrying. Benimaru. The scent and heat can only be his but it’s comforting to open the eyes and see the shock of dark hair flopping about, occasionally blocking the view of his right cheek bone. Somehow, probably with the help of Joker, you’ve been tied together, allowing your arms to hang limply over his shoulders while he supports your by wrapping his arms around your thighs. It’s not comfortable but it’s efficient.

“Wait,” Joker hisses from up ahead.

There’s very little light – barely enough to illuminate the obstacles littering the crumbled hallway – and you can’t see what has alerted the gangly man, but you feel the uncrowned king of Asakusa tense beneath you, his lungs slowly expanding as he takes in the surroundings.

“Hm. I smell it.”

Smell? Sniffing the air, you don’t pick up on anything much at first apart from Benimaru, dust; and your own need for a bath.

“Don’t worry, [Y/N], just stay calm.” He must have felt you stirring.

Nothing snappy comes to mind and it doesn’t matter because that’s when you realize that a curl of sulphurous stench is mingling with the air.

“Let me down.”

“You can’t stand on that leg,” he argues as Joker steps closer.

Already fumbling with the sash holding the two of you together, the idea of supporting the weight seems like a horrible idea. “It wasn’t an invitation to a discussion, Beni,” you growl, “I’ll hold you back if you carry me.”

“I’m not leaving you behind!” Stubbornly digging the fingers into your thighs, he’s probably stubborn enough to stick to the word.

Finally free of the restraints, you tug at his hair. “I’m only telling you to put me down for now.”

There are whispers now, low murmuring groans coming from both directions as if carried on the fumes. The lightest dust and ashes are starting to dance on the ground in spiralling patterns that clash and divide in mesmerizing patterns. They could have been fascinating to watch if it wasn’t for the temperature slowly rising.

“Do as she says, Shinmon,” Joker drawls, his eye fixed at a warm glow that has appeared in the distance.

Begrudgingly, the man sets you on the ground, careful to let you gain the balance on your good leg before letting go. It’s obvious on his face: one wrong move and he’ll sweep you off your feet. I’m so gonna use this to my benefit once we’re home. You decide to ignore the nagging sense of doubt and instead focus on the growing lights in either direction of the tunnel.

What at first was nothing more than a glow has now, beyond a doubt, taken shape of several flickering fires moving towards the same cluster of targets. Misshapen bodies cast their stretching shadows beneath the flames, obscuring dozens of shuffling feet as the pace begins to pick up. They know you’re there. They are hungry.

Glancing at the men, the darkness before them is illuminated in red and purple and the air around them is shimmering with heat.

“Let them get close.”

“Guess you’re too exhausted to think clearly, dear,” Joker chuckles but then hesitates as he sees your face, “...okay. Call it.”

... Joker ...

Smiling behind the collar, Joker recognizes the worry flashing across the other man’s face. It’s a bold plan and he isn’t sure it’s strictly necessary...but they can’t be sure what else they’ll be facing on their way out, so [Y/N]’s idea of preserving the would-be rescuers’ power for later makes sense.

“Lighten up...or not, actually,” he smiles wickedly at Shinmon, “let’s see what our girl can do, eh?”

The glare he receives from the captain is a logical response.

“[Y/N]...there’s no reason to push yourse-”

“I didn’t survive this shit just to be rescued like some fairy tale maiden.” The threatening purr combined with the half-dried blood makes her seem tantalizingly dangerous. “There’s no one to take out my revenge on, but at least I can clean up the mess I’ve made when I let the lab blow up too.”

Oh? That must be an interesting story...for later. Finding an adequate slab of broken concrete, he brushes it off and sits down. In one of the inner pockets of the coat is a pack wrapped in cellophane and he picks a cigarette from it, lighting it with a flick of his fingers. Aaah. The acrid taste fills him for a handful of seconds before it’s blown out through his nostrils together with the last hours’ worth of stress – he could almost chill for a moment if it wasn’t for Benimaru joining him by the boulder, sitting as relaxed as a statue about to crack.

“Has anyone ever told you t-”

“Shut up, Joker.”

The men relapse into silence. It’s not that the man with the hat doesn’t understand Benimaru’s sentiment: the girl’s in horrible condition and is using almost all her strength to stand, it seems. The white-clad ran from her. The image of a dying man clutching a bundle of hastily written notes is still clear in Joker’s mind. Abandoned a comrade together with a demon infernal...he didn’t think they could end it. It’s clear, though, that something did put it to rest, most likely causing the explosion at the same time. Show us what you’ve got, [Y/N).

... Benimaru ...

Like lit matches, only their heads are burning as they rush forward. At first surging for whomever is nearest until a clear shout orders them to ignore the men.

“I am what you want!”

The way the infernals all zero in on [Y/N] it really looks like she’s right and as they swarm around, pushing closer but never able to touch her, he can barely see her until he stand up on the slab of concrete.

Eye glowing bright yellow even against the infernals’ blaze, she doesn’t flinch as charred fingers scrape against the air, trying to reach her. She stands, immovable, talking calmly as if they could understand her. Maybe they can. Yes, they absolutely can and some must be accepting what she says because they stop and wait without a sound. Wait for what? A few infernals continue their struggle only to be wrapped in the arms of those standing by until finally, none of them are moving more than their dead faces.

There’s a shift in the air as [Y/N] spreads her arms, smoke and heat pushed outwards by an unseen pressure and stilling the flames of the damned.

“I’m sorry,” the woman whispers a second before tugging her fists tightly to the chest and plunging the Nether in darkness once more.

Benimaru can hear the muted sounds of clothing landing in heaps on the ground, the impact softened by dust and ashes, but the room is obscured by dark flakes filling the air to the extend that the glow from Joker’s cigarette nor the captain’s excellent vision can guarantee a view of the woman they came here for.

“Impressive,” the smoking man comments, snapping a fiery playing card out of nowhere to illuminate the space.

No one is listening to the compliment. The captain of Special Fire Force Company Seven is reaching out for the swaying figure of the woman he loves, barely making it over the heap of sooty jumpsuits in time to catch her as she collapses one more time.

“[Y/N]!” he croaks, frantically feeling for a pulse.

Eyelashes flutter for a brief second before she scrunches her face to look up at him. “Yeah yeah...I’ll let you carry me this time too.”

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dark128 · 4 years ago

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KNOCKOUT - CHAPTER 11

“Do you want me to?”

Bo nods down at the condom Harry’s stiffly holding onto. He’s coiled up so tight that it would be a bad idea to let her undress him. He’s having a difficult enough time as it is just toying with the inevitable of her touching him, let alone below the waist.

Bo had watched in fondness from her spot lounging on the bed as Harry moved from candle to candle, lighting as many as he could before the flame on the match got too low. She’d laughed at his explanation for not striking a second match, claiming there was a fine line between romantic and sacrificial.

But now in this soft, flickering room, she smiles at him and he almost loses his nerve.

“No, it’s alright, I’ve got it.” Kneeing closer to her across the mattress, “just lay back,” Harry encourages softly.

On second thought, that’s probably the worst thing he could of suggested because now Bo’s laid beneath him and he’s acquired an audience to a process that makes his hands shake. Hair splays on his pillows and it’s been so long since he’s had something so pretty occupy his bed.

She’ll linger on his sheets. The smell of her perfume and the fleeting heat of her body which escapes once the covers are peeled back, both temporary, both are not enough. He craves so much more. But the memory will be permanent.

Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way she’s looking at him now, like he hung the moon and every star in the sky.

He swallows before going through the motions of unbuttoning his jeans and sliding the zip. The full weight of her gaze lands on his stomach as the bottom of his t-shirt is taken between his teeth to hold it up and out of the way. Fingertips unwittingly tickle as Bo traces his hip and on towards his belly button. And he sort of hopes she misses the goosebumps it raises on his skin.

As Harry gently presses to widen her legs, the winsome charm she led with earlier seems to escape her. He’s left feeling fully endeared by her absent fiddling of his belt loop.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

There’s a smile but it lacks prowess and so Harry removes himself from looming over her and comes to lay beside her. Bo shifts into him.

“We’ve had sex before.”

It’s quiet because he doesn’t want to disturb the delicacy they’ve slipped into. Facing each other, it’s still a little difficult to comprehend that he’s with her now. She’s in his tiny basement flat where the hot water is temperamental and the floorboards creak in odd places along the hall.

“I know. But it feels new,” she softly smiles, thumb lightly rubbing at the tattoo on his hip.

Her beauty has become more refined in the five years they’ve known each other, more of a classic look that has Harry pinned every time she holds his eye contact. Despite her wishes for a growth spurt, Bo stands at the same height against Harry’s shoulder. But now there’s a confidence in the way she holds herself, filled with achievements and future aspirations.

He can’t really imagine what she’s seeing. He’s been greeted by this image of tattoos and damaged eye every morning for years whilst he brushes his teeth in the bathroom mirror. So perhaps this intimacy does feel new to her now.

He’s pliantly patient as he waits for Bo to initiate further contact between them. They talk quietly, muffling laughter into the pillow as Harry recounts one of his mishaps in the kitchen. It’s not long before she’s bashfully rubbing her nose to his and Harry’s sighing into the sweet kiss they share.

He welcomes the palm warming his side and it’s when she gets a little more handsy that Harry encourages Bo to seat herself upon his lap. Sat with his back to the coolness of the wall, there’s a heavy clash in temperature between the brickwork and the woman he holds close. And whether wilfully calculated or involuntary, Bo’s hip movements are progressing the thoughts in Harry’s one-track mind. The longing of experiencing another person so intimately is finally being quelled, soft mouths and testing fingertips reaffirming to the both of them.

But it’s the tug to Bo’s hair that sharply clears the heavenly ascent, lacking in any sort of lustful passion and is instead leaning more towards unintentional pain. She breaks the kiss, fingers wrapping Harry’s wrist.

“AaaaAA,” Bo’s pitch escalates as he attempts to remove the hand riddled with silver rings from her hair.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Harry fusses.

She’s instructed to hold still, huffing out a sigh, whilst Harry sorts the situation out with a commentary of swears. Looking like she’s sucking on a lemon, Bo obediently follows Harry’s lead as he adjusts so he’s not working in his own shadow. Once she's free, her hair is tangled enough to make drawing her fingers through it bit of a pain.

Harry twists the rings off his fingers, throwing them in irritation to the bedside. Another colourful curse falls from his mouth as he shuffles them both down the bed before flopping backwards onto the mattress. Bo watches as he rubs his eyes with tightly clenched fists.

“I’m sorry,” Harry sighs through his hands that are currently covering his face.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I cocked that up.”

Still currently residing in Harry’s lap, she’s not quite sure if she should remove herself given that the mood has taken bit of a nosedive. Bo’s answer is given moments later as Harry’s knees come up behind her and palms splay out on her thighs.

“Don’t. Feels good.”

“You ok?”

“I’m fine, are you alright?” he tightly replies.

“You just seem a little tense,” she warily suggests.

“It hasn’t exactly gone as smoothly as I’d hoped.”

He doesn’t quite meet her eyes, the action weighing heavy on her chest.

“You been thinking about this a lot then?” Bo teases, eyebrows suggestively raising as she tries to lighten the tone.

“‘Bout what?” he fires back, palms softly squeezing where they’ve remained.

Harry loves the flirting, and is more than thrilled to have it reciprocated, to have her play with him in this back and forth. Suggestive tones that are made even more fun because he knows there’s a depth to it.

But he sort of also wants to hear her explain their situation. Explicitly.

“What do you think?”

“Couldn’t say,” he goads.

“About having me under you,” Bo simply replies, not missing a beat.

Prayers answers.

“Maybe, but it’s mostly been about the cuddling and kisses on the cheek.”

“Liar,” she accuses, lightly pinching at his side.

“Ok, ok!” he jostles her as Bo’s fingers find a particularly ticklish spot under his arm. “I might have thought once or twice about getting you in that window seat.”

“You said you were kidding about that,” she implores, batting him across the arm.

“A guy can dream.”

“Well, you’ll be dreaming for an eternity.”

“Shame, any thoughts about the same activity in the shower?”

Bo laughs, rearranging herself out of Harry’s lap.

“Maybe we should concentrate on the current situation,” she motions, “lay back."

Harry’s on his back and he feels like a fucking lemon because his hands don’t know how to play it cool and his heart is hammering like it’s his first time. He can’t be sure what Bo is doing until she appears with her hair tied back from her face. She’s assumed the odd position of straddling his knees. And Harry watches her crawl up his body before a kiss between them only has four inches to make contact.

“Hey,” Bo hushes with a smile. “How ya doing?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” Bo lightly tests, her fingernails running across his stomach.

Harry lays with his brain between his legs and his bottom lip between his teeth. He enjoys the lingering tingle as nails drag just that little bit too deep; done it to himself when the occasion arises and he’s in the mood to get off. But this is different because for the first time in a while it’s not Harry’s own hand palming over the seam of his jeans. And it’s the partially choked sound he makes that sets her smile.

Her touch is gentle, easing his jeans down until another tattoo is uncovered. She gives it some consideration, thumbing over the patch of inked skin.

“Is this a tiger?” she asks, grinning up at Harry.

“Thiger.”

Bo snorts before clamping her hand to his thigh to lean in for a kiss, which ends up being a clumsy kiss to his chin when Harry moves his head at the last second. They laugh again.

“Please tell me you didn’t just get that tattoo so you could make that joke,” she scorns him whilst edging his underwear down.

“It did make you laugh thou-“

The sentence is choked off as Bo takes him into her mouth. All thoughts evaporate from his mind, only ones of pleasure and utter desperation remain as she licks around the tip.

“You’re gunna have to bear with me, it’s a steep learning curve.”

And Harry thinks she almost looks smug as her index traces the curve of him from base to head. Even more so as his cock is laden with chaste kisses, an innocent gesture for such an erotic setting. And apparently mirroring his dilemma between either wanting to take Bo sweetly or just nail her into the mattress.

He only realises how pent up he is when his fists loosen in the sheets once she’s finished with her little display. He’s hardened fully and he’s having trouble with digesting the image of her laid between his legs.

Even with a mouth full of cock she’s trying hard not to smile.

“You’re gunna kill me,” he pants, eyes rolling back.

She huffs a laugh around him which proves to visibly tighten the muscles in his thighs. And it’s only now that Harry thinks, she tied her hair back to suck me off. He may have transcended to a higher plain of existence as her hand begins to work him over - deliberate with her strokes and squeezing just slightly to keep him coiled up.

Harry’s own hands have returned to the sheets, balling them in fists as he endures what’s panning out to be the most long-awaited oral of his life. He’s a little embarrassed to say that he can already feel the muscles in his stomach tightening. It’s a hot clench that only burns warmer by the second. Harry’s approach is a little haphazard, but the hand he brushes to Bo’s cheek hurriedly catches her shoulder to encourage her away.

“I-I think I’ll be alright now.”

Or maybe not, Harry swallows as Bo passes the back of her hand over the corner of her mouth.

“Spoilsport,” she teases.

***

“I always loved your thighs,” Harry comments, warming his palms to the inside of Bo’s legs.

He’s going to satisfy that heavy ache she feels low in her belly. It only intensifies as Harry looks up at her through his eyelashes. He’s going to bewitch her senses and leave her wanting him again and again. It’s been so long, Bo would forgo sleep and forfeit any sort of productiveness the next day just roll in the serenity of candlelight and a lover’s warmth.

She’s still sporting her bee-saving t shirt as she watches the muscles in his chest and shoulders transform with his movement. An ungainly squeak is produced on account of Harry sharply dragging her a little further down the mattress. Something which he finds highly amusing judging by the crinkle to his nose.

“Brute.”

Harry laughs.

He murmurs a quick apology, brushing his fingers to her cheek before retrieving a condom. The process is smoother as his hands refuse to quake and now Bo’s onlooking makes his blood rush in electric excitement. He’s practically thrumming with it as his touch leisurely slips between the apex of her thighs. She clamps his hand there with the forgotten feeling of someone else’s kind fingers. Harry’s treated to a series of spectacular little sounds, whisperings and then small startles that are muffled into Bo’s arm as she hides her face. He’s being brazen with it, not just the fact that his fingers play but knowing that this is what she wants, she wants him.

There’s a look of wild revelation as his fingers dip into wet warmth. The couple hold eye contact, Harry’s movements gentle and without haste in the knowledge of acts to follow. There’s an actual throbbing between Bo’s thighs, making them shake in the effort to keep them from falling completely open. It’s barely a whisper, but Harry hears it, the “please” that tells him she’s barely keeping it together.

She’s ethereal laying below him, all soft features and devout gaze as he lines up and finally pushes in. It’s almost jarring the way she feels around him again, giving him that pliant smile, the one he recognises, the one that means she’s not completely with him. That is until he starts to move and it’s like she’s a drowning woman breaching the surface. Her back arches from the bed, arms around his neck as she pants into his, clinging to him like he’s her saviour.

“Harry.’

His name is spoken in a raging half whisper.

“I know,” he replies because he can feel it too.

Rapture. She’ll be his undoing and his sexual reawakening. Harry welcomes that warm pull in his belly as he angles his hips to draw new, breathy sounds from his lover’s lips.

Bo’s an honest delight beneath him. The way he can feel her toes curling against his calf, her fingers gripping his nape to encourage him further on top. As if he could get any closer, they’re already sharing breath and fumbling kisses.

Harry’s pretty sure a bottom corner of the fitted sheet has sprung loose with the way they’re contorting to keep damp skin close. His skimming hands have pushed her t shirt up, deft fingers hooking the right cup from her bra down so he can kiss at her breast.

She’s more fussy than he remembers, especially when he leans away and takes a heady breather. Her huffing is a tad undue but Harry thrives in it, noting her disgruntled expression as he slips from her entirely. There’s a flash of an unpleasant second when Harry’s mind tells him he’s going to be booted in the face.

But Bo’s brought her feet up to lightly drum against his chest and Harry can’t help but laugh at the playfulness, grabbing at her ankles before she has a chance patter against him again.

“Come on,” she almost whines.

His hands move of their own accord, sliding down her calfs to press his thumbs into the back of her knees.

“Impatient little thing, aren’t you,” Harry replies, leaning into her whilst spreading and gently bearing down on the back of her thighs.

There’s pink blooming on her cheeks, and Harry can’t be sure if it’s the temperature in their duvet fort, or the fact that Bo’s ankles are now resting on his shoulders.

“You promised me a whole evening.”

Harry thinks her chide lacks the lustre needed to fully penalise him, especially when he can feel her wriggling to meet his hips.

“And I wouldn’t want to go back on my promise.”

He lightly kisses at her ear, unworried about hiding his smile.

“Because that would make you a shitty person.”

He’s not expecting the pinch to his hip, so the growl he produces in response is a surprise to both of them.

“I don’t remember you being so boisterous.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re practically bending me in half.”

Harry lets Bo unfurl, her legs slipping down to rest beside his hips once more.

“You’ll have to forewarn me next time so I can stretch beforehand.”

“Next time?” Harry curiously enquires.

“I’m not just having you once,” Bo breathily promises in his ear, the tone making it seem like that fact was obvious.

Harry plays along with their distracted conversation, leaning over her with an elbow propped and his thigh between hers.

“Tonight?”

He’s not ready for the shove to his shoulder or the dominating role reversal, so when Bo’s sat astride him Harry’s sure she feels him twitch. She doesn’t play at coy, but there’s definitely something more bashful in her movements as she delights in the feel of him again.

“Forever.”

That promise sets his heart soaring.

She reaches behind for him, shuffling back to seat herself fully down with a flutter of eyelashes and somewhat of a startled whimper. And Harry can’t help but grunt at this all-consuming feeling; this time with the added pressure of hands splayed on his chest as he’s halfheartedly held down.

“Was that a bit cheesy?” Bo asks once she’s chased her breath. “It sounded romantic in my head.”

“A bit, but I think it worked in the moment.”

“Good, because I meant it."

He doesn’t want it to sound insincere whilst she’s riding him, so Harry bottles up the ‘I love you’, and saves it for when he can confess with a clearer mind. Instead, he grabs at her hips, eyes devouring the way her body moves against his and he’s delighted with the repeat image of her bouncing, slack jawed. And because he’s a tease, Harry delights further in the sounds she creates when his hips come up to meet hers.

She wants him every way she can, but that wish may have to wait.

“Lean forward,” he pleads.

Bo’s forehead comes to rest on Harry’s as his feet plant to the mattress and his knees come up behind her. With the strength of his tattooed hips, he meets hers at a toe-curling rate. Bo succumbs, allowing Harry to take the lead and guide them both, her face finding the crook of his neck and his arms wrapping around her back. He cradles her into completion, hearts hammering as Harry chases the rapture that Bo blissfully makes peace with. It’s only with the last few stuttering thrusts that Bo pushes up, taking his face between her hands to kiss away the curses that slip free from his smile.

***

“I like them,” Bo admires, fingers running over twin inked dates on his shoulders.

She shifts a little to sit back on his thighs, taking his forearm with her as she intently inspects all the splashes of black ink she’s unfamiliar with. It’s all Harry can do to give Bo a soppy smile whilst she carries on, giving each design her attention. They’re partially dressed again, Harry only decent enough to have taken delivery of their pizza before returning to the bedroom.

“Who’s this?”

Harry’s arm is raised as Bo taps a finger to the tattoo in question. It’s a delicate gesture that challenges her comical disapproval.

“My mermaid.”

“She’s cute,” Bo says, finger following the swish of dark hair. “Why’d you get her?”

“Dunno, I’ve always liked swimming.”

He’s met with a surprised laugh.

“So, of course, logically you got a mermaid permanently tattooed on your body,” she chides, shaking her head.

There’s a small “B” inked just below the inside crease of his elbow. She tilts her head, smoothing over the skin with her thumb.

“That one’s yours,” he says simply, like it couldn’t be anything else.

“Mine?” she asks, eyebrows shooting up.

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Yep, “B” for Bo,” Harry tells her quietly. “Beautiful.”

She licks her thumb, rubbing at the letter.

“You really got it tattooed?”

“Yeah,” he laughs.

“That’s permanent.”

“I’m aware,” Harry smirks, biting at her neck. “Just like my mermaid.”

“Yeah, just like her,” Bo thoughtfully rephrases.

It’s a few moments before she replies, still rubbing at the small letter.

“Why’d you get it?”

“You’re important to me, you’ve helped me through so much, it just felt right.”

She doesn’t say anything in return, not sure that she actually can. Pouting in contemplation, Bo shifts a little in Harry’s lap.

“Maybe I should get your name tattooed on me.”

“Oh, really?” Harry smirks. “Where? Hopefully somewhere only I get to see?”

“Hmmm, I was thinking more of a chest piece,” she leans away, gesturing to a band of skin above her breasts.

Harry appears a little horrified for a moment but his composure cracks before laughing and grabbing for her hands.

“I’m not sure that’s your best idea.”

She slumps back to be cradled into Harry’s side.

“Or maybe I’ll just get a ‘H’ here,” she hushes, voice more sincere as fingers point to the exact spot on her arm where he has her inked. “So we can match.”

Bo’s treated to a kiss to the tip of her nose. She sighs before further squirming away to continue the inspection of body art.

“Roll over then.”

She makes herself comfortable, sitting astride his lower back as delicate fingers trace more tattoos curving around his side.

“Oh God, that one’s awful.”

Harry huffs a laugh into the pillow in response to her brash opinion and feathery touch.

***

Harry wakes to the heart wrenching feeling of an empty bed. He sits up rather abruptly, hands skimming bed-warm sheets as the duvet slips to pool at his waist. He swallows twice, mind reeling to kickstart foggy memories from hours before.

The bedroom door has been left ajar, just enough for a thin strip of light to hollow out the darkened room. Soft footsteps follow and Harry’s heart climbs back down his throat for it to thud against his ribcage.

His body flops back against the pillows before the door is nudged just enough for Bo to slip back through. She doesn’t think anything of Harry now sprawled out on his back, but she knows he’s awake because of the subtle inclination when she draws back the confusion of sheets.

“Your hot tap is broken,” Bo hushes whilst climbing back into bed on the floor.

She receives a rough hum, Harry’s arm draping her waist.

“Did you hear me?”

Instead of moving himself closer, he opts for coercing Bo until the length of her body is flush to his, like he’s seeking the cool side of the pillow.

“Broken,” he grunts.

“And you don’t have a bath mat, my feet got cold. I can go out and get you one tomorrow. Or today?” she adds, trying to lean over Harry to confirm the time on one of their phones.

He mumbles something incoherent into her shoulder, lips forming words like kisses upon her skin. With her on her back and Harry now on his side, he’s almost perfected the art of blurring the lines between them and creating one warm entity under the covers.

“Repeat that.”

She gently catches under his chin with the tips of her fingers, prising him from the nook in her neck.

“Don’t need one.”

The raspy words catch in his throat.

“Everyone needs a bathmat. Where will you dry your feet? You’ll just track wet footprints through your room.”

“I’ll think about it.”

No, he won’t.

“Of course you won’t, I’ll just go and get you one,” she pauses. “It’ll be a fluffy orange monstrosity because you’re being difficult about it. Probably a matching toilet cover as well - if they still even sell those?”

The arm banding her middle squeezes tighter which Bo thinks is Harry’s silent way of getting her to hush..

“I love you.”

Oh.

Bo stills in his arms.

It’s something she’d insinuated hours before. That she would still be his in the morning, and every other morning of her promised ‘forever’. But for him to utter the words into their lengthy, soft post-sex haze - Bo was just about ready to settle into the cradle of sleep. But now she’s fully awake.

He’s still pressed against the length of her, his hair brushing her cheek as the urgency to gauge her reaction grows.

“I’m in love with you - still.”

Still. Like he’d never stopped. And that’s a little terrifying to know, especially in the knowledge of their separation and the years between then and their reunion.

“I’m still in love with you,” he rephrases. “Got there in the end.”

His lips catch a soft smile which diminishes as his words rest into silence. Harry feels Bo draw in a grounding breath as though she’s trying to compose herself. Unsure as to whether this conversation should be illuminated, Harry decides against turning on the lamp. Partly because he frightened to disturb her but mostly because he can’t bear the thought of seeing Bo’s face if it’s rejection that awaits him.

“If you’re not ready then I - well, I understand -“

“I’d like to take you out,” Bo interrupts.

“What?”

“Not fatally,” she hurriedly explains, “like on a date?”

“Oh - ok.”

“Yeah? We could go out to dinner or have cake at a cafe in one of the parks? Or there’s that cinema experience that looks quite fun.”

*** 4 Months Later ***

Harry can hear it in her voice, that she’s not prepared for his confession of undying love just yet and she certainly isn’t ready to say it back. But this is the start that they both deserve, a calm, normal beginning to their new relationship. It’s a chance to get to know each other again and to see where it progresses. And Harry’s happy with that as they lay and bounce date ideas between them, all the while Bo’s fingers have found his own.

“Why must everything be so high up?” Bo grumbles.

Her complaint is voiced to the glasses on the top shelf in Harry’s kitchen cupboard. Despite her irritation, he’s pleased to see her emerge minutes later with two drinks in hand and his socks pulled up nearly to her knees over leggings.

“I see you were successful,” he grins as Bo sorts out coasters.

“Well, I did nearly pull everything off the worktop in my struggle, but it’s fine.”

Her words are accompanied with a sugar-sweet smile that can only mean trouble for Harry. He hopes he’s forgiven with the choice of Tuesday night Bake-Off on the telly. And it’s as Bo’s laughing at some awful bread pun that the question just feels right.

“Bo, do you wanna move in?”

She smiles, pressing into his side and rearranging his arm so it curls around her back.

“No,” he huffs a laugh, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “I mean move into the flat - with me.”

“Really?”

Bake-Off forgotten, Bo swivels to face him. There’s joy dancing in her eyes as the bun atop her head bobs with her excited wriggle to move closer. The TV is set on mute and Harry becomes confused at the sharpness in her eyes.

“I want the left side of the bed, permanently,” she negotiates.

“It’s yours. Even when you’re not here.”

“And you’ll leave space in the bathroom for my things?”

“I mean, there’s quite a lot of your stuff in there already - but of course.”

Bo kisses his cheek.

“I just got my first pay from work,” Bo happily states. “I’m gunna buy some proper glasses, so we don’t have to drink wine out of mugs.”

“What’s the point?” Harry laughs. “The fact that you stick a straw in everything sort of lowers the tone of a proper wine glass anyway.’

The remark earns him a sore shoulder.

“And we can always get you a step for the kitchen.”

She rounds on him so fast he nearly spills the drink he’s just picked up from the coffee table.

“We will not be doing that. You’ll help me move everything down so I can reach it myself.”

“No problem.”

“I’m gunna phone my mum,” she rambles, untangling from Harry and tripping over a charging cable.

“Should I set up a direct debit? Or do you just want me to transfer my half to you each month? What would be easier?”

“Don’t worry,” he laughs. “We can sort it out later.”

“I love you!” she calls from where she’s peeking around the doorframe.

It’s such a casual gesture but Harry’s settling into the knowledge that the love he’s bursting with is reciprocated by the woman he adores.

“I love you, too,” he smiles.

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