#ive almost finished with chapter three :)

[oloreaa]

Can u guys believe that I wrote like 10k of ven in the last two days alone

[artisticbunny]

I was writing for Whispering Willow today...

Willow would absolutely commit war crimes with zero hesitation or remorse and gladly would drag Brook down with her as long as it meant that her goals were reached.

...luckily for everyone Willow's goals and purpose is entirely reliant on Brook completing the quest to save all life on the planet fhdbdhfh

[lbhslefttiddie]

💋 and 💌 for the ask meme, please?

💋when you leave comments on a fic, do you want to hear back from the writer?

in general i dont expect it, bc i myself am absolutely garbo at replying to comments, but its not like ive ever gotten a response from the author of a fic i commented on and was like "GOD this fucking guy". there are times where im particularly hoping for a response (once or twice ive asked a burning question for a fic that i know wont be answered later) but im never particularly put out if i dont get one. when i am trying to express my appreciation for something someone wrote, i do consider their comfort greater priority than my personal satisfaction

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Rebehold the Stars has taken the backburner somewhat while i work on Mouse On The Thorn, but ohhhhh ive got a solid chunk of drafting for it ready and ch 2 has a lot of details about what happened on the peak while sqq was on his little odyssey :] also ch 3 will actually largely be post-canon to ITWA, so it'll feature some little details about how things are going for the boys and how sqq is doing :]

[extended-play]

if only i could summon the motivation to finish my ao3 fanfic that thing has been untouched for months hope the almost 300 people who left kudos arent dieing waiting for the next chapter

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: part three! are we learning from our previous mistakes? TAKE A WILD GUESS! after this, have one more chapter to go, and i know ive been consistently posting every week, but im afraid that the last part is going to take me a whole extra week to finish (bc ill be out of the country for a sec) so, my apologies! but i hope this long chapter makes up for the extra wait! <3

Wordcount: 6.5K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“I didn’t say he doesn’t… I just said, he has never actually said it.”

Emily’s jaw dropped, and you immediately regretted saying what you just said.

“No, stop. He has said it. Forget I said anything. It’s fine.”

You knew exactly what she was going to say.

She’d alluded to it from the start. Rolled her eyes at him. Made faces of outrageous confusion that told you, how can someone behave like that, without having to say the words aloud. Without making you hear them.

“I’m just saying…” Emily started, and showed you a facial expression that made you feel stupid for even bringing it up.

“It’d be better for you to leave him.”

You laughed, like she made a joke, yet so aware that she absolutely wasn’t.

But listen, if you didn’t laugh, you’d cry, because you knew, you knew somewhere in the back of your mind that it probably was better for you to leave him.

Not a truth you wanted to face though.

There were still too many easy excuses for you to make.

So... you made them.

But Emily’s face remained quite serious.

“Emily. You don’t mean that.” You said on the back-end of a giggle.

“Are you joking? My God, it’d be so much better if you left him. Better for you, better for, well, me. Can’t even tell you he loves you? What is he on?!”

You shushed her, and looked over your shoulder in the general direction of your bathroom and listened for a few seconds. The shower was still going. He couldn’t have heard her.

Good.

Not that Emily’s general opinion was a huge secret. But still. It was nice if the peace could be kept for the night.

“He does tell me that.” you argued, much softer. “Just...”

“Just does it when he’s about to hang up the phone? Just a quick, casual, love ya, when he’s saying goodbye?”

“Well, he–”

“Or does he only say it when he’s about to come?”

“Emily.”

“Oh, God. You’re so beyond help, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore.”

For a moment, you avoided eye-contact. Pressed your lips together and looked around the room whilst your friend tried her best to get it into your head that Joe really just wasn’t it.

“You know you’re in second place.” Emily said, suddenly much more earnestly. “You don’t deserve to be in second place.”

Which was a nice sentiment. A thing a best friend was meant to tell you. A bit like a parent calling their baby a genius because they accidentally made a bit of babbling sound like a real string of words.

“Well,” you said, taking a deep breath in and giving Emily your best smile. “So is he, so I guess we’re even.”

He wasn’t.

These were two different leagues.

But suggesting that Emily was in first place with you was the quickest way to make her feel appreciated even though her advice went untaken.

It always did.

Emily was a good friend and always gave excellent advice. And you were a good friend because you always listened to what she had to say. Or, you thought you did. Would tell yourself you did.

But then you simply wouldn’t follow any of it.

You hadn’t taken her advice when she’d told you to stop fucking around in a fourteen month situationship.

“I like how this just… works, don’t you?” Joe had said one evening when you were wrapped up on his sofa together. You’d made a comment that someone had flirted with you and had asked if you were single. You hadn’t known what to tell them.

Joe had just shrugged then.

“Let’s not push for something if it doesn’t need it. Something not broken doesn’t need a fix, does it?”

And you’d disagreed then. Had hoped that he’d grow a little protective and would’ve gone, um what do you mean of course you’re not single. For a while you also hadn’t wanted to define anything, because fuck commitment, right? But it had been over a year and Emily said that you should ask him to just fucking label it already.

You hadn’t.

You also hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy wasn’t going to make you happy.

Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy was ultimately just there for a bit of fun, but not really much else.

Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you to just leave him already when you told her he had never sincerely told you that he loves you.

“I know you’re smart enough to know that it’s absolutely wild that he’s not said–”  

“It’s because you just hear all the bad things, I’m sorry. I should also tell you about the good shit.”

“Oh, yea? Like what?” Emily challenged, and in the silence that followed, you heard the shower turn off.

“Like... look! Look what he got me!” you said, picking up a bag from a dining table chair.

Your friend looked at it for a moment, blank faced, and then narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“Got you? Like, he went out and bought that for you? Or, was that sent to him by the brand, and he just passed it on?”

You looked at the bag you were still holding, then gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. He still gave it to me.”

It was a nice bag.

“Not exactly the same is it.”

No, it wasn’t. But... you know. You could pretend it was.

“Still counts.”

“Okay. If you think so.”

You didn’t think so, not after what Emily had just said, but you were willing to accept it for the nice gesture, and that was all you cared about. Or, what you told yourself was all you cared about.

“I think so.” You definitively told Emily, breaking into a smile to really sell it.

Just when she was about to roll her eyes at you and maybe try her hand at talking a little more sense into you, Joe called you from the bathroom.

You left Emily on her own for about a minute before joining her again.

“Okay. Let’s go. He’s not coming.” You grabbed your coat and found your bag. The one Joe had given to you, but hadn’t spent a penny on.

“He’s– what?”

“He thought of something that still needs doing. He’s not coming.”

Emily stared at you from where she was sat, watching you hurriedly wrestle your arms into the sleeves of your coat as she slowly caught up to speed.

“So, I’m sorry, but have we just waited for him for ages for fucking nothing then?”

You ignored her tone, finding your phone, your keys, and then Emily’s coat as well.

“Let’s go. If we hurry, we might beat the rain.”

You chucked Emily her coat, and she almost didn’t move her arms in time to catch it. With the front door already open, you gestured for Emily to make her way through, calling, “Bye! We’re off!” into the flat.

Emily, under her breath, very mockingly sing-songed, “Love you!” in that same tone as she walked past you, making her point once more.

You didn’t repeat her, but instead rolled your eyes at what you decided was a joke, and then loudly said, “Don’t wait up!”

You didn’t wait for Joe to answer before you slammed the door shut.

It’s been weeks.

Months, technically, although it doesn’t feel it.

“Please be home, please be home, please be home,” you mutter to yourself as you rush your way down his street. “Please be in the fucking country, for just this fucking once…”

You’d texted and had gotten no coloured ticks from him. So then you’d called, but it just rang for ages before you were eventually sent to voicemail, and that’s something you don’t do. Especially not now. Not about this. Hell would have to freeze over before you’d leave a voicemail message. You could delete a text thread, or a voice note. But, a voicemail? Once a voicemail sends out, there is no undoing that.

Maybe you’re crazy, but what you’re doing now feels safer.

It’s after midnight, dark, the streets wet from earlier rainfall, but you feel wide awake. You’ve got Emily’s words ringing in your ears still, and you’ve not been able to shake them yet.

Her advice.

Or, well, it was more just her opinion. She had expertly dressed it up as a fact, though, which is probably why that one sentence still held you in a vice grip.  

Telling her about how you’d had a few… moments, with Joe, since you’d broken up with him, turns out, was the wrong thing to do.

You just really wanted to tell her about the wine.

The expensive bottle you’d satisfyingly dunked into his kitchen sink.

It’s been weeks by now, but you still think about that all the time. And every time that you do, you feel pure glee spark inside of you.

You thought she’d be the same.

You thought she’d absolutely love it.

But then, after you had told her all about that night, she’d just looked at you with so much disdain and disappointment, it startled you into rambling excuses, none of which sounded true to your own ears, let alone hers. She then had shook her head, and sort of muttered something to herself that you asked her to repeat.

It’s those words that haven’t left the forefront of your mind since.

You didn’t ask Emily to clarify herself. You hadn’t gotten into an argument, either. You had just… moved onto a different topic. A lighter, easier to digest thing to talk about.

It left those words to rein freely, left those words at liberty to inflate themselves until they were all you could think about, and the feeling had clawed at your chest for the rest of the day. The rest of the night.

You hadn’t been able to answer the question, what’s wrong, that you were repeatedly asked until it made you upset.

“Nothing’s wrong! Stop asking me what’s wrong! God! You asking me what’s wrong a million times a minute is what’s wrong!”

Something is wrong though.

Obviously.

You just left someone in your bed for this.

Ringing Joe’s doorbell is a quick action, fingers pressing that familiar button before you can have any doubt of what you’re doing. It takes longer than a few seconds before you hear a small beep.

“Joe? I texted you, can you reply to my text?”

A silence follows, and for a moment you think maybe the intercom doesn’t work properly, or maybe he just hadn’t heard you.

“I– I sent you a message, check your phone–”

A loud click of the door unlocking and a loud shrill buzzing sound interrupts you.

“No you don’t have to– just text me back, will you?”

No answer follows, but the loud buzzing persists. After a few more seconds of it, you know Joe’s just holding down the button until you go inside.

That wasn’t the plan. 

With a frustrated grumbling sigh, swearing under your breath, you push yourself into Joe’s building and make your way to his front door.

In the lift you decide you won’t let the doors close properly when they’ll open on Joe’s floor. You’ll tell him from half inside the lift that he just needs to check his phone.

You just want an answer.

But then the lift doors open and one foot steps out as you lean into the hallway, expecting to see Joe waiting by his front door, yet he isn’t.

You make an angry face, nose pulling up and showing your clenched teeth with a frown. You’re in a building where people are asleep so you can’t make any noise, but you absolutely would have otherwise. Joe leaves you no other choice but to get out of the lift, and begrudgingly, you make your way over to his doormat.

When you get closer, you can see how the door’s been left open.

“Hey,” you whisper-yell into the flat, “Joe?”

You get no answer, and take a few careful steps inside to find him standing in his kitchen in a T-shirt and a pair of boxer-briefs. He’s got his back turned to you, and is seemingly busy cleaning up mess he’s left out from dinner.

It’s the fucking middle of the night.

It’s dark in Joe’s flat, the only light in the room coming from his under cabinet LEDs, and it’s weirdly warm for the time of night, you think.

“Hey, I–” you start, voice low because it’s late, but you quickly get cut off by Joe.

“Did you close the door?”

You blink a few times and watch Joe very carefully load some things into his dishwasher, making little to no noise at all. No plates softly clashing, no rattling cutlery.

“What? No. I–”

“Will you close the door, please?” Joe asks, but it sounds like a demand. Sort of cold, a little detached.

“All I’m here to say,” you try again. “Is that I want you to check your phone...”

Joe stands up straight and finally looks at you. Whilst maintaining eye-contact he slowly closes the dishwasher until it latches, machine clicking shut, and when he then just... keeps staring at you, you throw your head back like an annoyed teenager, and reluctantly do as you’re told.

You go to close his front door.

In the kitchen you hear the tap go, and when you join Joe there again, you can see how he’s filling up a glass with water.

Joe is about to take a sip when he suddenly decides against it and lowers the glass.

“Water?” he then asks, and holds it out to you with a stretched arm.

You’re slightly confused, but you take it, and then watch Joe reach for another glass from a cabinet and fill that one for himself.

“Thanks, but…” you place the glass on his counter and hold two hands up to Joe. “I’m just here because I need an answer to a text.”

Joe, with his mouth in his own glass, sort of looks at you a moment as he gulps water down.

He looks tired.

Which, yea, that checks out.

You fucking woke him up, didn’t you?

There’s so many reasons to declare yourself clinically insane right now, but you’re holding onto the notion that this is actually all totally normal with all of your might. If you pretend to believe it, you might just be able to trick Joe into it as well.

But Joe just looks at you like he’s waiting for you to give the real reason of why you’re there.

“So, if you could just, check that. Answer it. That’d be great.” You force a polite smile and step back. “That’ll be all.” And you turn to leave again.

“You’ve been crying.” Joe stops you in your tracks.

You turn back to him.

“No. Well, yea I was, but that’s not– I’m fine, that was about something else, not this. You don’t have to– stop, I’m going to go, please... respond to my message. I’ll read it when I get in, and that’ll be that.”

“Wait.”

Joe picks up the glass of water you’ve just put down and gives it back to you. When it’s in your hands, he even gives it a little push upward to ensure that you have a sip.

“I’ll go get my phone.”

And he’s so calm and agreeable that it feels rude to do anything else but take a sip and wait for him. You watch Joe walk out of the room to go get his phone, and it’s a lot of opening and closing doors, everything done as quietly as humanly possible. Then, you suddenly notice how hot you feel in your coat. It’s really fucking warm in here.

That’s new.

That’s... weird.

When Joe comes back, he closes the door behind him again and looks at his phone as he unlocks it.

“Why did you call me?”

“Just–”

“I’ll read the text.”

In silence, you stand and watch Joe open his texts and read your message. Messages. There’s several. Then, he starts typing back, and, this is what you came here for, but now that you’re standing in Joe’s kitchen in the middle of the night, having pulled him out of bed for this, you almost want to tell him he’s being an idiot. He can just as easily answer your question in person.

His message sends, and your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Joe places his down and gives you a tired stare.

“Yea, okay. Th-thanks.”

“Read it.”

It startles you.

“No, that’s…” You’re so stupid. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Read your message.”

You feel like a fucking child that’s being scolded by a parent.

Guilt.

Regret.

Self-inflicted, which makes all of it so much worse.

Every feeling sits dark and sticky and bitterly uncomfortable in your gut, clinging to all the edges, stretching longer until the shadows overtake all of the previous excuses you had for being here.

You shouldn’t have come.

You shouldn’t have gone to wake up Joe over something so insignificant and, well, dumb. It’s embarrassing, and you want to leave.

“You’re here now. I’m up. Read your message.”

You inhale deeply. Hold it there for a moment.

He’s right.

The damage has been done.

You’ve dipped a toe into this strange pond, and now you might as well canon ball yourself right into this uncomfortable mess, no matter how cold the water might be.

The only way out seems through.

You pull your phone from your pocket with a clammy hand, and fucking damn it, you’re sweating underneath all of your layers.

“I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

Joe just lets his eyes drop to your phone before he looks right at you again, his very stance issuing the orders.

Read the fucking text.

You see the notification and open your phone with face ID. Your own messages to Joe catch your attention first, before you see his reply.

“Were we as good as we’re going to get?”

“What we were together”

“Was that really as good as it can get?”

“Ever?”

You didn’t have to send the same question in various different ways, but that’s what had happened.

Emily’s reaction to the stand alone get-togethers you’d participated in with Joe hadn’t been what you’d expected. You’d hoped for a level of girl power encouragement. For a loud get it girl, or a, yea babe get what you want.

Instead, you’d gotten a sigh and shake of her head, followed by a soberly mumbled, “You really do deserve each other…” that you’d asked her to repeat.

Before she’d always said that Joe didn’t deserve you. That was always the point she tried to get across. The idea she tried to sear into your brain. Joe was beneath you, and you were far above. Always.

And then suddenly, now you are no longer too good for him?

Suddenly you’re on equal footing, and you deserve each other.

What the fuck.

You look at your own messages and realise in that very second that you have no idea what kind of answer you are after from Joe. This isn’t a coin toss situation where you know what side you want that coin to land on the moment it get’s thrown into the air. Fear strikes you lightning fast. No matter what Joe is going to tell you, it’s going to be wrong.

What the fuck are you doing at Joe’s flat?

And why is it so fucking hot in here?

The only way out is through.

You read Joe’s text.

“Darling it’s late, let’s not do this over text”

A non-answer.

You look up at Joe, who is now leaning against his kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest. His head tilts to the side a little and neither of you speak.

It’s oddly unexpected that the guy in his underwear exudes more confidence than the girl bundled up in heavy layers of clothing.

You frown and read the message again.

For a second you debate what to do next. What to say. If this is going to be the end of this interaction, or if it’s going to be just the beginning.

It’s late, though.

You inhale deeply. Slowly.

Then, resign.

“Okay.”

Because honestly, what were you really even expecting from him?

Your soft little defeated okay isn’t what Joe expected though, you can see it in the minor change on his face. The eyebrows that quirk up slightly, his jaw that loosens, the eyes that round out...

“I’ll um...” you say softly, letting your phone sink back into a pocket before pulling at your sleeves to let them cover both hands.

Joe steps forward and bends to look at the clock on the oven behind him before he says, “Well. Since you’re here. Might as well.”

He gestures an arm at his dining table. At one of his chairs. It’s hard, but you do your best to ignore the memories of the last time you were there, sat in one of these chairs. Well, technically, you hadn’t sat in one of the chairs... Joe had sat on one of the chairs and you–

“Am I going to get an explanation of what’s going on?” Joe asks as he pulls out a chair for you.

Finally, you remove your coat.

“It’s a long story.” You say, then think for a moment and add, “No it’s not, actually. Emily said–”

“Ah. Emily.” Joe sits down in a chair opposite. “How is Emily doing?”

“Shut up. She’s fine.” You exclaim, voice a little raised in defense, and you’re immediately shushed by Joe. He holds up a hand as he perks up, and you get the message, lowering your tone as you add, “This isn’t about her.”

“It’s not?”

“No. She just said something. I…” you trail off for a second.

Your head’s a scrambled mess of doubt and insecurities and it doesn’t help that all you’ve done in the past few hours is overthink every single thought that’s popped into your brain. It’s a bit of a journey to retrace your steps and go back to the start of all of this.

“We were talking, and suddenly she... she said something and I’m just… I wanted to know if you think that… if you think what I texted you is true.”

“You just… wanted to know… if I think…” Joe narrows his eyes up at the ceiling as he thinks, slowly repeating your words.

It’s condescending.

Patronising.

Joe’s making fun of you.

“All right, be fucking honest or–”

“No, no. I’m sorry. Sorry. It’s nearly two in the fucking morning,” two already big eyes comically enlargen, but don’t make you laugh. Wrong audience. “But, yea, you’re right. Honest. I’ll be honest.”

You take a deep breath in preparation of what he’s about to say.

Were we as good as we’re going to get?

“Imposing question, though.”

Yea, you’re aware. It’s why you hadn’t been able to sleep and had eventually decided to just get up and out of bed, leave the boy you had in there on his own, and make your way over to Joe’s.

“I don’t know.”

Wild how you feel about five inches tall whilst simultaneously feeling like you’re taking up too much space in the room.

“You don’t know.”

Typical.

“Well. No, I… was it as good, wait, what was it?” Joe looks past you and sees that he’s left his phone on the counter. “Was it as good as it could be?”

You exhale through flared nostrils, frustration forcing your eyes shut for a moment.

“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get for us?”

“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get... I mean, I think so? I– But–... you tell me. Were we?”

And Joe’s right. It is late. You have spent hours thinking that question over, and you couldn’t answer it when you weren’t as tired as you are now, so it’s useless to even try at this hour.

You shrug, and for a moment, it’s quiet. You don’t know how to go about leaving now. You came here for something you aren’t going to get and so, fucking now what?

“Why um... why have you been crying?”

“Oh, I...” your fingers find your sleeve to rub. “I was asked why I couldn’t sleep, and I... well, I couldn’t really explain, so...”

Joe frowns in confusion, not understanding.

“I don’t know, you try listening to someone say shit like, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I can’t help you, fifty times in a row, and try not to fucking snap.”

They’d been tears of angry frustration, mostly with yourself, and they’d actually surprised you. You hadn’t expected to cry, but, you felt hurt by words your best friend said to you, so you guess that does add up, actually.

Something slowly dawns on Joe before he then leans back in his chair and nods, scrunching his nose, and he whispers, “Jasper.”

“Jasper.” you confirm, and it makes you chuckle a little before a yawn breaks it up.

Joe watches you. Lets his eyes take you in. It’s the middle of the night and you’re very clearly going through something, but he hasn’t got the answers to the questions you’re asking him, and he hates it.

Wishes he could help.

Wishes the questions you wanted answers to weren’t so impossible.

Joe watches you yawn. Watches your eyes blink slowly as you stare into space for a moment. It’s so quiet, he can hear his clock tick on the other side of the room. Then suddenly, you smile.

“I told Emily about the wine... about how I was a complete bitch and poured that bottle right down your drain.”

And Joe can’t help but feel more amused at your smile than feel annoyed about his expensive wine being wasted. He won’t let his face show it though.

“Bet she enjoyed that.”

“Yea I thought she would, but... she just... she said that we deserve each other. Whatever that means.”

Joe watches your fingers rub along your sleeves. Knows what that means.

“That’s not true.” he suddenly says, voice low and sincere.

“Oh, right,” you huff a laugh and half-heartedly joke, “I don’t deserve you, of course.”

Joe doesn’t laugh.

“No, I mean... well, yes. Technically.” Before he continues, Joe shakes his head in an attempt get his thoughts in order. It’s late. “But not in the way you just said it. In that... you probably deserve better.”

“Probably?”

“Yea. And so do I. Probably.”

Hmm.

You silently mill that over for a second. Aren’t sure what to make of it. If there’s even anything to agree or disagree with there.

“But, who’s to say. All we know is that we weren’t the best before.”

Joe stresses that last word and then lets the words float in the air for you to draw your own conclusions from. It’s certainly true that you weren’t the best together - hence the break up that eventually happened. But Joe’s expertly sharing the blame, which is not a fun truth to face.

The before saves it, a little.

The before makes it sounds like Joe’s talking about two people who no longer exist. Like, those people are gone. That door is closed. And look at you now. You’re a whole new set of two different people. It’s a different world, and you’ve changed. Grown. Learnt.

Who knows what you’d be like now.

Joe can’t predict the future.

And neither can you.

“Hmm.” you hum, eyes trained on the surface of the table, body flushed with conflicting feelings you don’t know how to put into words. Instead of stumbling through words until you find ones that make sense, you remain silent and pull at your sleeves so there’s more fabric for your fingers to run across.

“Hey,” Joe leans forward a little and catches your attention. “Are you okay? Do I need to be worried about you?”

You smile and let it take over your whole face as you shake your head no before you bring your hand up to cover another yawn.

“No. But I should go. This was never meant to be– she just… I don’t know, Emily got into my head and I didn’t know how to get her out.”

Joe contemplates in silence. Wonders if he’s okay with the idea of you walking out and going home right now, in this state. It’s almost three o’clock.

“I don’t make the best decisions after midnight. Sorry.”

You push your chair back and get up on your feet, the plan being to give Joe a quick polite hug goodbye before you make your way back to his front door.

You’re tired, but you know the second you step outside into the cold air that will make your lungs feel sore, you’ll wake up enough to make your way home without any problems.

But then Joe decides you can’t just go.

You can’t just leave.

He’s stuck.

You’re stuck.

You’re stuck in it, together, in this muddy sludge of whatever the two of you have become now. One of you is going to have to step out of their shoes and escape, and Joe thinks it should be you, because you’ve escaped this quicksand of a relationship before. You know how to get out.

It’s weird that you willingly came back.

Keep coming back.

And it’s awful that Joe just keeps inviting you in. Welcomes you with open arms every single time.

But he wants you to stay. It doesn’t have to be like before. Things can be different. Better.

He decides he’s not just going to let you leave, so when he stands up and you go in for a hug, he takes hold of you by your upper arms and starts moving you towards his sofa.

Says, “Come sit for a second.”

And no resistance comes from you. Joe thinks it must be because you’re tired. You’ve cried and you’ve worried and you’ve let all of it eat away at you until you decided to reach out to him, and now, he wants you to stay. He’s not a fan of how, from a certain angle, it looks like he’s taking advantage of the situation, but... you’re both adults.

He’s not doing anything illegal.

Well.

There’s a girl in his bed.

It’s why the flat is warm and why all the doors are closed. Joe shouldn’t have let you inside. Shouldn’t have made you come in and shouldn’t have made you close the door behind you. Shouldn’t have given you a glass of water and shouldn’t have sat you down.

He doesn’t want you to leave now.

There’s a girl in his bed.

And you’ve got a Jasper in yours.

Joe’s closeness to you will come at a price, he’s aware. But it’s one he’s willing to pay. One he’s got the cash for, no problem. Name the sum and he’ll double it.

He’s got you by the arms and is walking you over to his sofa. You are stopped just before you’re about to step onto the area rug.

“Shoes off,” he says, like he gives a shit. You know he doesn’t, but listen to him anyway, and know that taking your shoes off means you’re not going anywhere. At least not for a while.

You get turned around and get sat down, and immediately, you feel far too comfortable. The seat’s too soft. The cushion’s too fluffy. Memories of the hours spent snuggled up on this sofa shoot into the forefront of your mind and you want to warn Joe that it’s not going to take much for you to fall asleep.

But before you can, he pulls a throw blanket from the other side and hands it to you, and you realise that getting comfy and cosy is actually the goal here.

There’s a guy in your bed, who you’ve just… left. Didn’t tell him anything. Just got out, got dressed and left.

You take the blanket from Joe.

It’s probably a good idea to at least let him know something. Send him a text. Let him know you’re okay. But that little voice of reason in your head gets drowned out when Joe sits down next to you and helps sort out the blanket so it covers you both.

“Sit for a second?” you ask through a soft half-suppressed laugh as Joe settles in beside you, your thighs touch underneath the throw. “Am I staying the night?”

“I don’t know, I don’t control what you do. I just want to sit for a second.”

Joe stretches an arm behind you that you think he’s going to rest on top of the sofa, but it moves your head forward a little as it grabs hold of your bicep to pull you in a bit more.

“Joe...” you warn, but it sounds lighthearted and sleepy.

“What?” Joe acts all innocent, but you can hear his amusement when he adds, “Just for a second.”

Joe is still shuffling in his spot, using his other hand to sort the cushion behind him, then pulling the blanket and tucking it under his leg, followed by him using his chin to fix the bit of flipped cotton of his T-shirt sleeve – it’s a lot of faffing for someone who wants to sit for just a second.

He’s nearly done, a centering sigh half way out of him when, suddenly, you feel how he pipes up a little and see how he looks across the room. His phone’s still on the counter, and for a second, Joe debates getting up to go and get it.

You determine on his behalf that he doesn’t need his phone by draping your arm across his stomach and snuggling up.

It’s warm in Joe’s flat.

And this little nest is perfect.

“Fine.” you mutter softly. “Jus’ for a second.”

Joe pauses for a moment as he looks down at how you let your nose brush his arm, your eyes already closed, and he grins as he sinks back down into his sofa.

You don’t make the best decisions after midnight.

Neither does Joe.

Maybe you do deserve each other. Maybe you don’t.

But you deserve this, you think. And you mean that in the best way possible. You deserve to be comfortable, and cosy, and toasty warm in a dimly lit room with a man who smells really nice.

You deserve to cuddle up next to someone who truly values your presence and genuinely just wants you to be there with them for a little while.

You deserve the soft tickling fingertips that delicately dance across your hairline, lingering there for far longer than ‘just a second’.

You deserve the barely whispered, super soft “Love you.” spoken so tenderly and punctuated with a gentle kiss pressed to the top of your head, it makes you tighten your arms around him.

You fall asleep in the soft glow of the under cabinet LEDs with the knowledge that the next morning is bound to be awkward. But this is still infinitely nicer than trying to fall asleep with Emily’s words on your mind. It’s difficult to think about impossible-to-answer questions when you’re wrapped up in strong warm arms that want you there, so you allow yourself to sink and to drift until dreams fully take you.  

A loud bang of a door slamming shut wakes the both of you with a violent jolt.

Two pairs of tired bleary eyes look around the room, and there’s a fleeting moment of confusion. Your mind scrambles to piece together where you are and what just happened, but all your mind can focus on is how dry and heavy your eyes feel as you blink to adjust to your surroundings.

“Oh, fuck,” Joe croaks, groaning as he goes to sit up. He looks over his shoulder, then rubs a heavy hand across his face before he goes, “Yea…”

You feel disoriented and frazzled, and move to sit up just enough to look over the back of the sofa with squinty eyes to see what Joe is even looking at.

All you see is an open door to the hallway that leads to his bedroom.

“What was that?” you ask, thinking maybe something dropped or knocked over somehow. When Joe gets up and walks over to his bedroom to check, you think that’s it. Something fell because gravity finally got a hold of whatever Joe had been precariously balancing on a bookshelf.

But then you hear Joe audibly sigh and dejectedly go, “Yea, she won’t be coming back.”

That takes minute to land.

It’s too early for your brain to comprehend what just happened, but slowly, puzzle pieces click together.

Oh.

Oh, that’s fucking detestable, isn’t it?

When Joe walks back out, he’s wearing joggers and is holding a ball of socks, and you hope there’s a different explanation than the correct one you just concocted. He looks at you for a moment, and you can tell by the look on his face that he feels awful.

Right.

Emily can fuck off.

You don’t deserve each other.

You deserve better than this.

Okay, so, yea, admittedly, you aren’t really one to talk, seeing the personal choices you have made over the past eight hours. But the choices Joe has made in that same span of time are just as bad, if not worse.

You decide to give into the feeling of wanting to lay back down rather than to face whatever this morning has on offer for you. You disappear from Joe’s sight, and cover all of your face with your hands that press and pull at your skin.

This is such a mess.

“Emily can fuck off.” You mutter into your own palms, hoping Joe can translate that and connect the dots of your disdain for him in this very moment.

You should leave.

Should check your phone for any messages or missed calls, and you should leave.

Never come back.

Learn your fucking lesson already and never set foot into this flat ever again.

But then Joe leans over the back of the sofa, and with knitted eyebrows that show off every single line on his forehead, he softly asks, “Do you want a coffee?”

You drop your hands.

Look up at him. The kind face. His short hair sleep messy. Jaw line. His mouth.

You should leave.

“Um…”

Oh... oh no.

“Yea…”

Fuck.

So close.

“Yea?”

You almost had it.

“Yea. I could use a coffee.”

Almost.

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[deepfivetraveller]

King Baldwin x Time!Traveler!reader

chapter 1

Chapter 2 here

Okay I’m a little new to writing romance so please take it easy on me. Btw I’ll try to keep y/n as neutral as possible but since this is set in the ancient era and religion is very important, y/n shall be hinted as being Hindu since that’s the only one that seems neutral in this situation.

“Alright that's all for the lesson. And since its complete I expect all of you to be thorough with ‘Life of King Baldwin iv’ during this weekend since there will be a test on this very topic next wednesday. Have a great weekend by the way.” The professor stands up and closes his laptop and all the other students start packing up.

“He had a pretty hard life didn’t he?” One of your friends chimes in. You look at her unsurprised. “You mean king Baldwins?”

“Duh! Poor man suffered an incurable disease almost his entire life! Imagine having skin infested in bacteria, euggh!” She recoils in disgust. “Imagine the cure to that disease being bacteria itself! Pretty sure Leprosy can be cured using multi antibiotic therapy.” Another friend joins in the conversation. You finished packing up your bag so you get up. “But no matter what, you gotta respect him. He never used his illness as an excuse to be a bad king.”

“That’s true….” Your first friend agrees. “He’s tough. When I catch a normal cold I give up all of my responsibilities since I’m sick. Wonder how hard it must have been for him.” All of you exit the classroom. A few minutes go by and topics have changed. A fun conversation lasted for a while before it was time to go, so you three parted ways.

As you entered your home your first thought was to take a cold shower after a long, hot and sweaty day. While eagerly hopping into the shower you get reminded of the conversation you had with your friends a while ago. What did king Baldwin even look like? There were no images in your textbook. Curiosity got the best of you, making you draw back the shower curtains to leave. You wrapped a towel and went towards the table where you kept your mobile, typed a quick ‘King Baldwin the 4th images’ and hit enter. Two images popped up. One being an actual painting from the 12th century while the other being an image reconstructed by scientists which looked…realistic to say the least.

His face in the second photo was majestic. His mouth and nose were almost non-existent, having only two triangular shaped holes instead of a nose. His skin was dry, withered and stretched while having the hue of a dry leaf during autumn. Even though he was severely disfigured his eyes were pure and bright, having a child like innocence towards them. King Baldwin was…Quite handsome.

Okay that’s enough now snap out of it! It’s probably just some AI prompt message image anyway. If anyone found out you found him handsome they’d call you crazy. Plus now is not the time to fangirl over a dead king, now's the time to study. In an attempt to distract yourself you pick up your books to do work. Hours painfully go by as you study but finally, finally it was bedtime. You could care less about eating dinner or even taking a shower, you plop yourself onto your bed and wrap the soft blanket around your body. Thoughts about King Baldwin strike your mind again. Seriously, what's wrong with you?! Why is this man plaguing your thoughts all day?

A sigh escaped your mouth from irritation. If only it was possible to console him for his losses or better yet, cure him entirely. The world would have been a better place if he had the lifespan of a normal man.

But there is no point thinking about this, time to go to bed now. As you try to go to sleep your body keeps doing the fake fall thing, annoying you to the core. And finally when your bodys heartbeat was steady and your breathing was quiet, your body did that fake fall thing again but this time it was actually a real fall.

Eyes widen as you try to grab onto the air to prevent your fall but of course, you fail. Adrenaline rushes through your veins for that split second before you finally make an impact on the cobblestone path?

Owch! That fall really hurt, especially at the back of your shoulders! You hope it’s not bruised there. But after that reality check, you look around only to find yourself in some village?

You can see a few small huts and buildings beyond the grassy field. Where are you? How are you here? Why are you here? Too confused and dazed from the fall, you try to look around for people for help. That is until a holographic screen with text pops up.

Congratulations Ms. Y/n. Your wish to cure King Baldwin has been approved by the ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. You are now at Jerusalem, Year: 1181.

“What?”

Yes it’s true Ms.Y/n, you really are in the 12th century.

Your blood is now boiling in anger. “Just because….Someone wishes pity over a dead king DOES NOT ACTUALLY MEAN THEY WANT TO CURE HIM!” You try to grab onto the screen to shake it vigorously but your hands go right thru.

Now now, let’s calm down and try to get over with this together I’m sure we’ll find a solution.

“Calm down…CALM DOWN?!?!?!? I’m in the middle of nowhere in Jerusalem during the 12th century and you want me to CALM DOWN???? I don’t even know French and not to mention I’M NOT CHRISTIAN!” You were screaming with your hand in the air. Pretty sure you woke someone up.

Y-Yes but that’s why I’m here. Don’t worry about communication, the language module for french had been uploaded into your brain while you fell here.

The screen flickers a little, maybe due to fear.

Uploaded knowledge? “But I’m a woman from the 21st century! I can’t live here! I’m wayy to accustomed to the privileges of my time!”

That’s one of my perks miss! By using currency of this time you may purchase products of your time thru me! The screen changes to an online store. For now you have access to basic necessities like food and clothes. As you complete missions you shall unlock other parts of the online market! The screens display brightness increases due to enthusiasm, convinced it has impressed you.

You however look at it in exasperated shock. “How is this even possible?” You say with dread in your voice. “Who sent me here?” You ask, no, demand.

Like I said You’ve been sent here by ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. I’m pretty sure you can’t read that since mortals don’t have the capacity to….

Mortals? Is this the play of some higher being? God even? Too many questions float through your head, making you visibly tired. You can feel the bottom of the skin beneath your eyes folding, an indicator you’re developing dark circles.

Ah. It looks like you’re tired. It’s night anyway. You should sleep.

“But where do I-”

“Excuse me madam.” You turn around to see a man standing behind you. “I’ve noticed you’ve been talking to yourself.”

So he can’t see the screen. From his ragged outfit he seems to be a commoner. He also genuinely seems worried so you guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask for help.

“Yes, sorry for that.” You say embarrassingly while you get up. “You see I’m from the family of wandering traders, here to sell spices from my land. I was talking to myself since I was quite irritated at how I didn’t have an inn for the night.” The explanation seems responsible enough I guess.

“But I don’t see any goods with you… And how did a young lady such as yourself travel alone? Where is your husband?”

Crap. He’s doubting you. You need to give him a reasonable explanation fast or he’ll call you a witch or something.

“Oh no sir you’re mistaken! My father is the one who has the spices, it’s his business after all. We had to split ways during travel due to inconveniences, I’m merely here to help him!” You put on your best smile to convince him.

“O-Oh I’m sorry madame! H-Here let me lead you, I know an Inn nearby.” Good. Looks like he believes you. But now it’s your turn.

“I’m sorry sir but how can I trust you?” You step back a little. “What if you take advantage of me? How shall I testify my innocence? The locals would definitely believe you over me.”

“No no please don’t! I’m a married man. My wife’s right there.” he points at the lady standing just outside the house, looking worried. You look at her and she nods her head in reassurance. “You seem like a noble from your land madame judging from your colorful dress, why don’t the both of us show you where the inn is?”

Hmm….Guess colorful clothing is rare here. And he really does seem like he wants to help.

“Very well then. Both of you show me they way.” The man eagerly tells his wife the incident and both of them show you around. The screen follows you, showing you a winking emoticon.

Congrats Ms. Y/n! You have officially begun your first mission!

[galacticseonghwa]

it's a shame, truly - Zhong Chenle

INCLUDES: dom!chenle x fem!reader, smut heavy, choking, oral (m receiving), consensual filming, jealous chenle, swearing, dreamies featuring especially jisung. wc: tbc a/n: MINORS DNI !! someone wanted me to re-write this fic for chenle but i can’t find the ask for the life of me😭, this had 0 plot when i first wrote it so i changed a couple of things, throughout. posting a draft for the time being because ive injured my wrist just as i was about to finish chapter two of jeno and yang yangs fics😭

"you look beautiful, truly." jisung whispers in a deep voice, his hands on my shoulders as i smile at him awkwardly.

"thank you jisung" i laugh and shrug off his hands gently. my eyes leave the taller blonde male before me to find the burning eyes of my black-haired boyfriend.

his jaw twitches as he sees jisung try to hold my shoulders again. although everyone in my friend group knew chenle and i were together, that didn't seem to stop jisung from trying to make advances at me.

at first i thought it was cute but then it started getting awkward after he thought i was reciprocating the same feelings as him, even with the countless times either myself, chenle or even mark has told him otherwise.

chenle absolutely hated the idea of bringing me anywhere near the younger male, but it was times like this he didn't have a choice.

all three of you were invited to haechan's birthday party, at a dimly lit club haechan and jeno had found a few weeks back.

chenle places his left forefinger over his lips and raises his eyebrows with eyes still burning daggers into jisung, his right hand resting on his legs that were spread.

"i'm really sorry, jisung but chenle is calling for me. enjoy the rest of your night." i smile softly and make my way from jisung and towards chenle, who sat at a table with his legs spread and his left arm resting on the table while his right arm rested on top of his right thigh.

i stand in front of chenle, whose eyes slowly trail up my figure before landing on my face. "lele" i pout, gripping his hands softly.

chenle hums and grips my hips in his hands and pulls my body towards his. i smile and lean down to press my lips against his.

his hands move to rest on my ass, while he swipes his tongue over my bottom lip. just to tease him i deny him the entry.

chenle pulls away and stands up, his right hand almost instantly wrapping around my throat and applying the slightest pressure.

"be a good girl for me, hmm?" he speaks lowly and presses his lips to mine again. this time i don't deny him as he swipes my bottom lip again.

chenle smirks into the kiss as i open my mouth for him. a muffled moan escapes my throat as chenle applies more pressure to my throat.

chenle pulls away and quickly pulls me with him back to his car which was parked not too far from the club.

he grabs his keys and unlocks the car. "get in the back." he demands as he opens the door for me.

chenle follows me in and locks the car as he settles himself in the middle of the back.

"on your knees." he points to the floor in front of him. i obey immediately and settle myself between his legs.

chenle unzips his tight black jeans and frees himself from his boxers, his length slapping against his stomach.

before i can react chenle holds his phone in front of me. i nod and let him record. the flash invades my vision, leaving me momentarily blinded, but i blink a couple of times to readjust.

my mouth waters at the sight. "c'mon princess, you know what to do yeah?" chenle urges as he pumps himself slowly.

i move forward and open my mouth just as chenle places his hand in my hair and pushes himself into my mouth.

i hallow my cheeks and flatten my tongue against the bottom of his cock and look up to see his eye closed and his eyebrows furrowed.

groans escape his beautiful lips as he continues to thrust his hips at his own pace.

"fuck baby, that mouth of yours is made just for me." chenle moans.

after a few minutes, i feel him twitch in my mouth, i pull away from him and take his tip back in my mouth and suck while using my hand to pump his base.

"fuck, yeah, just like that baby!" chenle's voice is deep with pleasure.

chenle soon coats the back of my throat with his release, i swallow and pull away from him with a pop and stare up at him.

chenle moves the phone right in front of my face. he reaches forward and uses his thumb to wipe my bottom lip and places it in my mouth.

"my good girl." chenle cooes and stops recording. he quickly puts his pants on properly and pulls me into his lap.

chenle places his left hand on the back of my neck and brings me in for a gentle kiss.

after he pulls away he leaves a lingering kiss on my forehead before grabbing his phone and opening his messages.

"let's see if he'll leave you alone after this." chenle grumbles annoyed at the thought of jisung and begins typing away.

after pressing send chenle turned his phone to show me just exactly what he was doing. a laugh escapes my lips as the 'read at 1:27 am' come up.

Ji Sung

chenle: *sent a video attachment* chenle: it's a shame you'll never get to see her like this. truly.

TAGLIST: @sinisxtea @wonwootakemyheart

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[08melancholie]

Lessen your Stress. — Dutch Van der Linde/Micah Bell/Reader

tags: Post-Chapter 6: Beaver Hollow (Red Dead Redemption 2), Smut, Shameless Smut, Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Sex, Spoilers, dont read if you havent finished chapter 6, theres spoilers to it that youll regret, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Anal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Mildly Dubious Consent, Abuse of Authority, Authority Figures, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Spit as Lube, Lube, Come as Lube, precum still counts i hope, Not Beta Read, no beta we die like micah bell

summary: What's one way to relieve the stress of losing your family, friends and entire gang you spent decades building? Dutch assumes it's getting his best friend to fuck his other still-devoted follower with him. It's another power trip of his you will never refuse.

a/n: initially the idea was reader and micah both trying to fight over dutch but then i was like why do we have to fightttt just let them both ruin users guts..... so here we are now. disclaimer: ive literally never written a threesome, i dont know what im doing honestly.... thank you to that one user on here who inspired this.

this is my longest fic up to date... yeah okay lets go touch grass.

words: 5,043 | AO3 LINK

A heap of shouting, spilling of secrets and killing later, the three of you regroup, all alone. Death is haunting you; you almost feel their blood on your hands, for some reason. You can't pinpoint why, but you feel guilty. Might be the fact you're still following Dutch, after he got them all killed.

Dutch might have officially lost his mind, right? You sometimes really wonder how he's made it this far, with such a good gang. Well, until now anyways. It's not until now that you notice a small flip in his head; a switch turning on for the first time. He's sat across from you, only a small fire between yourselves that lights up a small fraction of the area around you; up on a mountain, a small indent into the rocks it's built of serving as a cave of sorts. You're on the other side of the fire, laying down and watching Dutch really think for the first time, in a while. Your head is supported with the satchel you carry around your torso, visibly more uncomfortable than the plush pillows inside your old tent, now left behind. Sat behind you both is none other than Micah; staying forever loyal to the black-haired man lost in his own thoughts, his own pondering whilst his eyes illuminate the fire between your bodies. Micah is quiet; in fact, everyone is. Nobody dares say a word—not you, not Micah, especially not Dutch. Dutch doesn't feel grief, oh no; that isn't what this can be. You'd think that leaving two of your sons to die even after having the choice to save them both would make a man go crazy, but Dutch is clearly too far gone for that.

The fire crackles again, and you can't stand the silence any longer, opening your mouth to speak up. "We'll be fine, Dutch. Don't stress so much."

His head perks up from the fire, the flame-ridden irises of his catch your own. "Fine?" He repeats after your reassurance—not sounding all that reassured. You swallow and nod, always feeling so small under that dark gaze of his. "I would love to have even an ounce of your optimism." He barks, and you sink even lower. Well, it was a good try, if nothing.

He and Micah share a look, and it all goes quiet again. Fire crackles; animals howl in the distance; shrubbery whistles under the small wind blowing through the area. And all is quiet.

It seems as you'll be spending the rest of the night in here, so you decide to rest your exhausted body for today. You toss over and get as comfortably as one can, making an attempt at sleeping off the sour mood and thick tension in the air.

Your slumber only lasts you a few mere hours, both the very early morning sun picking at your eyes and gloved hands on your bare skin breaking you away from the little sleep you managed yourself. You grumble, turning to lay on your back. "Get'cho ass up," Micah, standing over you, takes a step back and moves his hands off you, the leather material slipping away from your waist. You sit up and rub your knuckles into your eyes, taking your satchel from underneath where your head was and standing up. "hoping you enjoyed Colter, darlin'." Oh, Colter; if hell was an icy, snowy blizzard, you'd assume they were talking about that part of West Grizzlies.

"Don't tell me we're going back." You hold off on groaning—only briefly as Micah nods and you can't help yourself, not at all fond of going back there again. "Why West Grizzlies, anyways?" You ask, watching him kick at the burnt-out campfire from last night.

Micah stomps out the ashy, black logs, turning back over to you with a shrug. "Dutch says so." Of course he does.

You hold back on rolling your eyes. "He at least in a better mood than yesterday?" You ask, very much still remembering his bite back to your simple attempt at making the situation you three were currently in a little more bearable. Micah starts walking off while talking to you, and you follow close behind, leaving the makeshift cave.

"Wouldn't put ma' money on it," He responds, voice getting quieter the closer he leads you towards Dutch—smoking a cigar, per the usual—and your three horses. "don't test yer luck, hm?" He gives a low chuckle, and you just sigh. Snow; low temperatures; blizzards; all things you wanted to leave and forget in Colter. But, here you were.

Dutch gives an acknowledging nod to both of you, which you swiftly return. "We ready to go, then?" Micah gives him another nod, and walks up to Baylock. You follow to your own horse, petting it briefly before getting up onto the saddle, mounting up as the two of them soon do the same.

The three of you start the long journey back up towards the mountains; almost feeling that familiar deja-vu-feeling kicking in.

The ride is long and definitely not friendly; the moment your horses get you to the snow, the wind picks up and so does the snow, plowing down on all six of you. It's almost unbearably annoying, having to ride with one hand on your reins and one covering the top of your eyebrows to block out the snow from your vision. It's only a long while later that the three of you get up on the snow-covered mountain of your liking, finding an abandoned area with a cabin, definitely big enough for the three of you, for now.

The three of you hitch your horses safely into a small stable-like area, making sure they wouldn't be cold in their spots. Afterwards, one after another, you enter the cabin and inspect it; it's a medium-sized hut-type room, a few cots still stable enough to sleep in and a kitchen on the other side, most cabinets left open and empty. Mere minutes of searching left you with a few cans of fruit and vegetables, but between you three, hunting will definitely be a must for nourishment. At least theres a run-down fireplace you can use to warm up your shivering bodies. Dutch sends Micah to get firewood, instructing you to work with him and make the place look a bit less messy. And, three of you get to work.

It isn't exactly homey, but it'll do. Can't be picky now, can you? You had a home, and it was Dutch's own fault everything at 'home' went to shit.

It's been about a week since, and you've gotten used to the spot you three settled into, you could even start calling it home. Well, no—nothing will ever replace the home that the gang provided, but that's something you'll have to simply cope with. You're still following Dutch, so really, do you miss them that much? Your trail of thought is broken up by the sound of the creaky cabin door opening, raising the volume of the small blizzard going on outside briefly.

Dutch and Micah enter after another, closing the door of the small cabin and blocking out the sound of wind outside. Your head perks up from the small book you were examining at the sound, and you nod in greeting. "Hey," Your gaze goes back to the book until Dutch clicks his tongue at you.

"Eyes up here."

You don't take even a second to comply, meeting his eyes but occasionally drifting them to Micah. You're slightly confused, they're acting odd. "You need something, Dutch?"

"Stand up."

Every command sends a small shiver to your spine, that much is sure. You place the book down and rise from your seat on the creaky cot, taking a step towards them to stand before the two men. Your compliance and submissiveness always sends one side of Dutch's mouth up slightly. "Got a.. proposition for you. Well... Not exactly, anyways." Micah matches Dutch's dark chuckle after the leader speaks up again, both looking down at you. "Listen now, it's been pretty cold, hasn't it, my dear?" As Dutch speaks to you, your eyes stay glued on him; but you can see Micah taking slow steps away from the leader, and around you. You focus on Dutch again, nodding. "That's what we thought. You see," He then takes a step closer to you, gloved hands clasping together in front of you. "we can keep ourselves warm without wasting so much firewood." At Dutch's words, you can definitely feel Micah so much closer to you, from behind your back. You're starting to feel something bubble in your abdomen; was it nervousness, anxiety? Lust, arousal? You couldn't exactly tell.

"Tell me, my dear," Another two steps; one in front of you, one behind you. You feel like you're being circled by sharks in an ocean, hunters on prey, making you feel small again. "you're a smart girl; you do know what I mean, don't you?" Oh, you do. You know it all too well as you've imagined it one too many times—late at night in your tent, your hands on yourself underneath the blanket, muffling the moans of their names into your palm—so it's not an unfamiliar feeling. Your words seem to only fail you further the more he speaks, so you just nod again. His moustache follows the curve of his lips when that devilish smirk arises again. "Thought so. Now..."

His gloves glide over your shoulders, leather on leather as he stands right in front of you now. "And surely, you wouldn't mind trying this new warm-up with us, would you?"

Like a cat playing with a mouse it's caught, toying with it until it breaks. Except, it's two big cats and one meek little mouse. A hot breath glides down to you, right over your shoulder when Micah draws himself closer, and you feel stuck in your spot between them—even more so when Micah places his gloved hands down to your sides, almost kneading at your waist. Now, how could you ever say no? It's Dutch Van der Linde and Micah Bell. For one, you've been imagining this scenario in the comfort of your tent, late into the many nights that turned very hot, very quickly. But also, do you really have a choice? Your boss; your leader, asking such a vulgar and intimate thing of you? What would he say if you refused? Would he let you refuse? Is this all another power-trip he'll hold over your head?

No time for questions when Micah squeezes your waist to bring you back to reality. "He asked 'ya a question, doll." He purrs—its low and sultry, right next to your ear, accompanied by another knead to your body. You feel almost lightheaded by your current situation. Your hands have been unconsciously balled-up, digging into your trousers in an attempt to ground yourself. "C'mon, answer the man." And all you can manage is a nod, again. A moan would probably leave your mouth if you opened it, which.. would also be an answer. Your nod was really all it took, a silent consent more than enough for Micah's hands to travel to your hips and for Dutch's to find the sides of your neck.

"Good girl, always listening to me like this. I know you wouldn't disobey."

The feeling is indescribable, really—Micah touches you with urgency and carelessness, almost selfishly and greedily; his hands map out the contour of your body, almost as if trying to mould your curves to his liking. Dutch, however, takes it hellishly slow; thumbs brush over the front of your neck while the tips of his other fingers dig into the sides, almost as if trying to coax you to relax into whatever they have planned for you. "Oh, she's good, boss." Whenever Micah speaks, it ends up right next to your ear, and you feel that familiar shiver down your spine. An agreeing chuckle leaves Dutch's mouth, which is very close to your face; your own lips. You're clueless as to what you have to do—should you stay stiff? Touch one of them? Say anything at all to their comments and wandering touches?

Dutch's slow pace slips up when he can't hold himself back from giving himself a taste of yourself, dipping his head down to latch onto your lips. It's nice and quick, and your hands find themselves creeping up his coat and resting on his shoulders, whereas his move under your jacket and place themselves on your ribs and under your chest. Micah is pressed right up to your back now, one hand leaves your hip to move your hair away from your neck, sliding your jacket collar down as he starts to pepper the side of your neck in kisses, occasionally sucking on the skin while pressing his hips to your backside—you can already feel him through both of your clothes. Dutch takes a moment to lick your lip, coaxing you to open your mouth up for him. You comply and your lips part an opening for Dutch's tongue, hands squeezing at his shoulders.

His tongue explores around your mouth with profound efficiency; with experience. It makes the feeling in your abdomen all the more prominent, and you slowly feel a heat rushing to it. Micah isn't any worse either, the mixture of his gentle kisses, rough sucks and sometimes licks up your neck all make you more worked up than you'd ever want to imagine. He's still pressed up to your rear, hands at the very top of your outer thighs, roughly handling you like previously. Then, Dutch starts unbuttoning your jacket. Slowly, each one gets undone, and your jackets pools between yours and Micah's boots, who carefully kicks it aside, just to continue marking up your neck. His stubble and beard occasionally brushes against your sensitive neck, making you let out little sounds into Dutch's mouth. Oh, how they're enjoying this.

Dutch momentarily breaks away from you, leaving you to finally breathe in. "You know, I always liked how you followed me so blindly," Dutch's hands move up and brush over your chest, then cup both of the muscles. "it was so damn hard to not take you right then and there, in camp." You gasp and sigh when his hands start massaging and fondling you. This much foreplay has never gotten you so worked up in your life, and you can definitely feel the dampness between your legs growing with each moment. Then, Micah's hands move. They're getting impatient, seen so by the man behind you who starts groping your rear, breathing oh-so-sweetly down your neck. "I'mma have my fun with'chu, sweet thin'." His hums have goosebumps running up your body. His hands squeeze your ass a final time before moving, sliding down onto your inner thighs. You almost think that he can tell how wet you are, from the low laugh he lets out into your neck.

Impatience really overtakes both of them when they break away and start stripping. Coats, vests, undershirts, trousers; all the many layers you need to survive the coldness of West Grizzlies. Once they're almost bare, left in their underpants, they walk to one of the cots and coax you to follow, taking a seat next to each other and gesturing for you to stand in front of them. "Your turn, my dear." Dutch commands, leaning back slightly.

"Make sure to give us a good show, darlin'." Micah adds, following Dutch and also leaning back. And a good show, they shall receive. You start with your undershirt, slowly and almost teasingly unbuttoning it, exposing yourself inch by inch, moment by moment. "Oh, she's good." Micah purrs to Dutch, looking at you intently and never breaking his eyes away from your body. Dutch gives an agreeing hum, nodding to the other mans' words as you move to your jeans, shrugging your undershirt off while undoing the restraints of your jeans. You slip them off and toss both clothing articles to your jacket, standing in only your garments, now only covering your chest and mound. Their eyes are still so predatory, it's almost killing you. Then, finally, Dutch gestures with his hand for you to move closer, and you step up right in front of them. They part slightly to the side, and Micah pats the space between them on the bed. You understand instantly and comply just as quickly, sitting between them now. "Attagirl... how'd 'ya train 'er to listen so well, boss?"

Neither of them say more, as Micah leans in to get his lips onto yours himself now, kissing you with speed and want; need. Dutch's hands go to your back, fiddling with your bra to get it off of you. Oh, but the best part is Micah's hands; one reaches down between your legs instantly, swiping across your slit over your undergarments. "Oh shit, 'yer this damn wet already?" Both men laugh in sync, dark and low chuckles filling the cabin. His fingers find your clit under the fabric and start rubbing, coaxing you to moan into his mouth which you do. He loves how your meek little gasps and whimpers echo down his throat, and he rubs faster. The other hand of his tangles itself in your hair, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. Dutch finally undoes your bra clasps, working it off of you without disturbing Micah and his workings on you. Your bra is tossed elsewhere, and one of Dutch's hands instantly finds your chest, fondling one while latching his mouth onto the other. Your hands grip one shoulder of theirs each, nails digging into the skin as your moans vibrate into Micahs mouth, hips already twitching into his two fingers working your bundle of nerves perfectly. Micah only breaks himself off your lips for a brief moment, "Can't wait to see this pretty cunt stretch around me." his mouth is back on yours, and the sentence alone has you grinding into his two fingers. Where's your dignity now?

Dutch's lips kiss around your nipple, teeth graze and pull oh-so-perfectly, and you already feel like you're close. They handle you with very different paces and things in mind; Micah is clearly trying to humiliate, get you to cum for him as quick as he can to give his ego a boost. Dutch however, he's now teasing; torturously slow pace on both of your tits, yet it works you up just as well as Micah's finger and mouth. And both are equally as blissful.

"Think she's ready for us?" Micah slows his fingers down and moves away from your lips to Dutch's question.

"Oh, surely, see how she's try'na fuck herself on my fingers? Poor, little thing. Bet she wants more."

"Well," Dutch leans away from your chest, standing to get his undergarments off. It's not long before Micah follows, and you can barely look at them; nude as the days they were born, with two almost equally as big cocks twitching for you, some precum at both their tips. It's a sight. "reckon she knows what she has to do—" He turns from Micah to yourself. "—doesn't she?" You swallow. Call it practice for what's to come, literally.

You shuffle off of the bed, and your knees meet the wood floors. Their grins down at you leave your panties practically leaking your own arousal. Looking between them, unsure where to start, you choose the leader—obviously. You get on-level with his hips, placing your hands on his thighs. "Oh, now don't leave my partner out, my dear." Dutch takes one of your hands by the wrist, guiding it to Micah's lower abdomen. "Show us both some love, baby." You can barely breathe at this point, and your hands might even be trembling slightly. Now, you've given maybe one blowjob/handjob in your life; but both, at the same time? This is overwhelming. Nonetheless, can't disappoint your boss, now can you? You push your thoughts down and slide your hand around Micah's shaft, running your thumb over his precum-covered tip to slicken it slightly, while simultaneously licking a stripe up the underside of Dutch's cock, collecting the leaky substance for a taste. Their faces are full of arousal and pure bliss, they almost make you feel proud. Dutch raises a hand to run through your hair, tugging on it. "We're old, impatient men, my darlin'. Get to it."

You take half of Dutch in your mouth, and start pumping your hand up and down Micah, earning a few praising groans and another tug to your hair, trying to draw you closer. You take Dutch until he hits the back of your mouth, and you barely suppress gagging on him. Don't need to inflate his ego that much. You move and bob your head, saliva slickening Dutch's dick up and painting your lips, some gathering at the corners of your mouth. Your hand works Micah in a slightly faster pace, seeing as it's easier to pump your hand over his shaft than take one in your mouth—especially one Dutch's size. You're used to average men, so this might as well even be nice. Not so much when he'll be stretching you open, but we'll get to that problem later. You continue your demonstrations, getting both of them to groan and even chuckle sometimes, looking down at you. They always looked down at you, you knew so much—but only ever figuratively. Never literally.

It's not long before Dutch grabs your head and just fucks himself into your mouth at his pace, which makes it easier to focus on your hand that's working Micah. You increase the pace of your hand, occasionally teasing the tip to see it twitch before continuing. "Wouldn't be surprised if you was a whore before 'ya joined us, so good at this." Micah's comment should make you mad, but you're definitely more turned on than anything. "Keep working dem pretty fingers around me, 'm close." And you absolutely will.

Dutch, however, doesn't give you a warning like Micah; he suddenly cums down your throat with a groan, and you have to focus on not gagging all over his dick as it empties itself out into your mouth, and you swallow every drop like if it were holy water. Unfortunately, you're not given a breather when he withdraws his hips from your mouth, as Micah pulls your hand away from his cock and brings your closer to it, grasping your jaw and squeezing so that your lips part. "Open." You don't feel like being painted all over with his cum, so you comply instantly, and he jerks himself a few times before spilling into your mouth like Dutch, your hands finding his thighs to brace yourself.

"Damn, she's good." Dutch seats himself back on the cot with a small creak, palming himself—somehow still semi-hard. Micah lets go of your jaw after he's spent, and you can't stop yourself from coughing as you swallow practically every drop, only a few around your mouth still. Micah chuckles down at you before grabbing you by the sides, his hands grasping your waist as he brings you back to your feet. "Come on then, you ain't done yet, or are 'ya, babydoll?" You're guided over to Dutch, turned to face him as both men help position you over him to straddle the leader. Micah's hands are replaced by Dutch's ones, who immediately moves your panties off and guides your folds around his shaft to slicken himself up again. "Still practically dripping. Oh, you poor thing. We won't be selfish no longer, my dear, you shall get your own, too." His tip slides to your entrance, and you have to grasp his shoulders to keep yourself steady, your lips slightly parted in pleasure. Slowly, Dutch's tip presses into you, and you squeak out a moan as you feel that small stretch you were dreading. "I'll go slow, don't wanna split our new toy in half, do we darling?" Well, that's exactly how you're feeling, oddly enough.

You're gasping and moaning as every inch of his disappears into your slick walls, the lewd noises mixing with Dutch's small praise and breathy exhales as you sink down on his cock, feeling it twitch inside you a few times. "Good girl, taking all of me like that." He gives you a moment to adjust before lifting your hips up and slamming right back down, earning a strained moan out of you, nail indents marking his shoulders up as they dig into the flesh, which just makes him laugh. "Love how tight you are, like it's sucking me right in. Your cunt loves me stretching you out, huh." His hips slowly begin to slap against you, filling the cabin with the suggestive noises of skin-on-skin and moans.

As you finally get used to his size, you feel hands on your waist from behind. You almost forgot Micah was there, seeing how quiet he was being. Then, one hand trails down to your rear, and a thumb circles your anus. "Can't leave me out again, can 'ya?" His thumb slowly draws itself into you, and you have to bite down on Dutch's shoulder. Jesus, you did not expect them to try and fuck you at the exact same time, even less from behind. He briefly extracts his thumb to spit at your entrance, circle it and then stick it right back in, trying to loosen your muscles up for his—much fucking bigger, may you add—member. They find a similar pace, Dutch is rutting you down onto his dick while Micah's thumb stretches your other hole out, readying it for his cock which is already leaking in anticipation. You brace yourself when he moves his thumb out and spits again, this time on his own cock to moisten it up again, mixing the saliva with his precum. Then, his tip slaps against your ass a few times, before it slides to your opening. Dutch has slowed his thrusts down to let Micah get in as well, and you haven't stopped biting at his shoulder since you started, almost drooling around it. Even if it's only the tip, as soon as Micah eases it in, you shudder and gasp into Dutch's flesh, biting down harder as your asshole feels every little stretch it's getting from Micah's thick cock. Thankfully, it's sliding in somewhat-easily after a few moments, Dutch's hands squeezing your hips as he shushes you to relax you, and Micah's caressing your backside as he slowly sinks into you.

The first thrust is the worst, obviously. You almost immediately shiver when Micah slowly slips out of you, to the tip, before drawing his hips right against your ass again. Dutch coos into your ear to keep you collected as Micah gets you used to his size, kissing your slightly sweaty spine briefly. "Come on, 'ya can take me, girlie." He sinks his whole length into you, almost as breathless as you. Then, they slowly find a synced pace and fuck into you from both holes as you gasp against Dutch's shoulder and shudder into him. "We'll let'cha cum too, don't worry doll." Micah slides a hand over to your abdomen, and his thumb circles your clit once more. You're on cloud nine—hell, you've never been high, but it's probably similar to this feeling. Your holes are tight around their cocks, all three now audibly gasping and moaning in sync. It's possibly the lewdest trio you've ever heard. With how they're thrusting into you, you're reduced to a goddamn mess; gasping, moaning their names, your cunt and anus tightening and squeezing, your mouth open and tongue slightly sticking out—you look like a dog, almost. Their bitch, that's for sure. From now on, anyways. You don't see how this could ever be a one-time-thing.

You can feel your orgasm building again, and you've honestly been doing pretty well, all things considered. "Can't cum in that pretty cunt, but I can back here." Micah's comment runs goosebumps over your body, and you already dread the feeling of that. His breath brushes over your skin as he kisses up your back again, reaching the nape of your neck and grazing his teeth over it, all while his hips slam into your ass. Dutch is stroking your sides, his cock twitching even more inside you. He's close—Micah's close—you're close—you might all just come at the same time.

That's exactly how it goes down. You're first to hit your orgasm, one that causes you to squeeze around their cocks once more, which is enough for both of them to hit their peaks with you, Micah staying buried deep in your guts while Dutch pulls out and jerks himself dry over your mound and his stomach, gasping for air in sync with you. Micah draws his spent member out of your asshole slowly, some of his cum leaking out and down your thigh. He takes a breather on your back and hugs around your waist, heaving into your spine. Your body relaxes over Dutch's, who can barely hold all three of you up. It takes all three of you a moment of no movement to calm down from your highs, before Micah is first to move off your back and help you off Dutch, slowly seating you next to him. "Well, goddamn, princess. Dutch was right; 'ya didn't disappoint for even a moment." He hums, getting to the nightstand and tossing a rag over your stomach. He shuts the drawer and sits down next to you, cleaning Dutch's spent off of your stomach while you gather your thoughts, before wiping his shaft and tossing it over to Dutch.

"I'm sure you know we aren't leaving you be after that performance, my dear." Dutch adds as he wipes him self clean, and you just wordlessly nod, laying back slightly. "I guessed so." He chuckles, and Micah chimes in with his own breathy laugh, standing to walk over and grab everyone's clothes, giving them out to you and Dutch before starting to get dressed himself.

And you're damn sure you won't want to stop anytime soon either.

Kudos on AO3 appreciated, as always! This fic killed me omg its my longest one up to date and its got me in a chokehold. fuck i wanna be between them so bad.

[lovegalor333]

fresh start

part nine (chapter 25) previous part • my masterlist

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: none!

Lily

Paige and the team left early yesterday morning for their game at Minnesota today. Travelling for game days, unfortunately, wasn't part of my job so Kayla, Madison, Hannah, Kelsey and I were all lounging on the couch, each tucked under a blanket, excitedly waiting for tip off.

After agreeing to go home with Paige for Thanksgiving, it was decided that I would travel there after classes finished tomorrow and Paige would pick me up from the airport. After Thanksgiving, Paige had to fly directly to the Cayman Islands for a tournament so I'd be flying back to campus alone.

Now the season had started, I had to get used to Paige being away more often, I didn't like it but it was inevitable and it just means that the time we do spend together is even more special.

"Are you all packed for Minnesota, Lils?" Madison asks me from her place at the end of the couch.

"Pretty much, just need to add the last few bits but I'll do that before I leave in the morning." I tell my roommate.

"I can't believe you're going home with your girlfriend for Thanksgiving break! Who would have thought it?" Kelsey says from beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder, "Single Sisters was extremely short lived." She laughs referring to the pact we made when we first met.

"I know! It feels weird but also right at the same time." I say thinking about my relationship with Paige and how it was never my intention to have a girlfriend again so soon but life and love works in mysterious ways and I'm so glad it worked out like this.

The conversation faded out as the game between UConn and Minnesota started and all of our attention was fully focused on the TV as familiar faces in white jerseys moved about the court.

Kayla had kindly offered to drive me to the airport to catch my flight and we had just arrived.

"Thank you for dropping me, K." I say as she pulls into departures parking.

"No worries, have a safe flight and enjoy Minnesota." She smiles her signature smile and I hug her over the console before getting out of the car.

After leaving Kayla, I immediately put my headphones on and shuffle my playlist. Controversially, I really like airports. I would always arrive earlier than necessary to ensure I didn't need to rush. I enjoyed picking out snacks for the journey and most of all, I loved knowing that I could be in my own world, listening to music, staring out of the window for the entirety of the upcoming flight.

After passing through security and buying my favourite snacks, Jolly Ranchers and Gold Fish, I just sat and patiently waited at my gate for boarding to begin.

hi pretty girl

have a safe flight, cant wait to see you

love you

hi p

boarding is just about to start

ive missed you so much

see you soon, i love you

I smiled at the text conversation between Paige and me. I felt extremely grateful for how my life had done a complete one eighty spin from a few months ago. I was happy, I had a beautiful girlfriend who loved me without reservations, I had genuine friends that supported me, I had a job that I adored and I wanted to be alive and stay alive. If I could go back at tell past Lily that, I know for a fact, she'd call bullshit.

The flight was quick, less than three hours and once we were up in the air it felt like we began our descent almost immediately.

I had collected my luggage, it wasn't big as I was only here for a few days, and was making my way through arrivals where Paige said she would be waiting.

"Oh my god." I say under my breath as Paige finally comes into view. She's stood a few feet away from me, looking as beautiful as ever. Her hair is down, tucked behind both ears and from the slight wave in it, I can tell it's been recently washed and left to dry naturally. She's dressed casually, in a grey tracksuit and Air Max 95s but it's the huge bouquet of flowers in her hand that has my jaw on the floor.

It takes a moment for Paige to register that I'm walking towards her but when she does, her face breaks out into a big grin and she takes the few strides needed to close the gap between us.

"Hi babe." I say melting into my girlfriends hug, taking in her scent that I've been deprived of the last few days.

"Hi my pretty girl. How was the flight?" Paige asks with me still in her arms.

"Super quick but I'm tired." I respond. Admittedly I'd not slept well the past few days, sleeping alone, without Paige wasn't something I was used to, so her being gone definitely felt foreign.

"You can sleep in the car. Oh and these are for you, obviously." She says handing me the bunch of flowers. They were a mix of pink and white dahlias with the odd stem of leaves, they were beautiful.

One thing about Paige, she was the best flower giver. She knew the perfect time to get them and every bouquet I've received from her and has been filled with the most pretty flowers.

Paige took my bags and I carried the flowers as I followed her to her car. She opened the passenger door for me before loading my bags into her trunk. I reached into the back seats and carefully placed my flowers down.

"Here." Paige said getting into the driver's seat handing me a blanket. Her blanket. Her favourite blanket that she slept with every night in Connecticut.

"Thank you." I say covering myself over and resting my head on the window. The blanket smelt like Paige and even though she wasn't, it felt like she was hugging me, it was comforting.

One of Paiges hands rests on my leg as the other steered the car as we began driving to her family home. My eyes fluttered shut, feeling safe and content and most of all loved beyond belief.

Paige

Having Lily here in the house I grew up in felt natural as soon as we stepped inside. My heart warmed watching her interact with my family, especially Drew.

They were currently stood side by side at the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up to their elbows as they took it in turns pouring in various ingredients and mixing together the cake batter.

I kept my distance and just observed as the two most important people in my life bonded and got to know each other.

"Paigey actually ruined Thanksgiving last year." My little brother tells Lily and she laughs.

"Really? What did she do?"

"She said she was going to make the best cake ever and nobody was allowed to help and I didn't eat any candy all day because she said her cake was so good." Drew reminisced on last year, "And then we tried it and it was actually the worse cake ever! I had to spit it in the trash."

"Hey, it's not my fault I confused the sugar with salt." I interject, poking my brother in the side causing him to giggle and in turn fling his arms up to protect himself,  but as he does a dollop of cake batter flies off the spoon and lands on Lilys face.

Once Drew realises what he's done he quickly apologises to Lily but I can't hold back my laughter.

"It's OK Drew, no harm done." Lily says with a sweet smile but when her eyes flick to me, she's glaring intensely. "Funny, Bueckers?" She asks raising her brows.

"Just a bit, yeah." I say still giggling.

"Oh OK, so you won't mind if I just," she dips her hand into the batter mixture and before I can register what she's about to do, she smears it across my cheek, "do that."

As quick as my giggles stop, Lilys and Drews start and I'm too busy focused on Lily to notice Drew also dipping his hand into the mixture before wiping in down my arm.

"Oh I get it. It's two against one." I say slightly offended my own brother would choose Lily over me but at the same time loving it because them having a good relationship means a whole lot to me.

"Drew, I think we should run." Lily says being able to read my facial expression perfectly and both of them set off running away from me but I grab the full bowl and go after them.

"I'm literally an athlete, I'm going to catch you guys." I say as I follow them.

Drew is running at full speed whilst screaming and dodging pieces of furniture so he doesn't trip and Lily isn't far behind him, also dodging furniture but laughing so much it's slowing her down.

I change my tatic and go back on myself knowing that Drew and Lily will walk or...run into me and I'm right.

"Ha! Got you!" I triumph as Drew unknowingly runs right into my path and I scoop him up with one swift movement and with my hand already covered in cake mix, I swipe it across his face.

"Lily, save me!" Drew shouts in my arms and he kicks and wriggles his body trying to get me to release him.

Lily's by our side seconds later, "Don't worry, I've got you!" She reassures and lunges for the bowl picking up the spoon and flicking it in my direction, sending mixture straight into my face.

"OK that's it!" I say adjusting Drew so he's over my shoulder and I run full speed at Lily.

She lets out a screech but she can't move fast enough so I manage to hook my free arm around her waist, "Now everyone say Paige is the best." I say gripping onto both of them.

"Paige is the best." They both mummble knowing they've been beaten.

"And Paige always wins, she never loses." I try my luck.

"OK, that's pushing it P." Lily says and she manages to wriggle out of my grasp so I place Drew down too.

"Truce?" Lily asks out stretching her hand, "Truce." I reply shaking her hand and then my brothers.

We salvage what's left of the cake batter and pour it into a tin before it goes into the oven to bake.

"OK, go clean yourself up buddy." I say to Drew and point him in the direction of the bathroom before Lily and I start to tidy the kitchen.

"He really likes you, you know?" I say to Lily as she washes dishes at the sink and I wipe down the surfaces.

"I love him." Lily says and my heart bursts, "Being an only child, I feel like I missed out on something. I wish I had siblings to have these moments with."

"You can have these moments with us. My family is your family, Lils." I say going over and standing behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my head on her shoulder, "Thank you, P. I love you." She says spinning around so we're face to face.

“I love you." I lean in and press a kiss to her lips, "Although, you're slightly sticky." I say as I pull away.

I pick up a cloth, "Come here." I motion for Lily to come over to the kitchen island, she does and I lift her up onto the counter.

I gently wipe away any left over batter residue on Lilys face and from my place inbetween her legs, I'm taken back to the night in my bathroom after the frat party.

I think about how much Lily and I have been through since then and how much my love for her has grown and I can only hope it continues that way.

"What are you thinking about beautiful?" Lily asks cupping my face with her hands.

"You. Me. Us. How much I love you and want you in my life forever."

"You've got me Paige. In everyway." She says pulling me closer and crashing her lips to mine. My hands instinctively rest on her thighs and slowly make their way up to her waist. I feel her groan into my mouth at my touch so I deepen the kiss, making it needier, sloppier. Lily's legs are around my waist and her hands are in my hair and it's a feeling I want to bottle and save for later because I know my little brother will be back in the room at any moment.

I reluctantly pull away, "Drew will be back any second." I say and right on cue the boy walks back into the kitchen.

He looks at Lily and me and the way we're positioned, Lily still perched on the counter top and me inbetween her legs, hands on her thighs and his head tilts to one side and I know he's about to say something.

"Paigey, are you going to marry Lily and have babies?" He asks full of innocence but Lily and I almost choke.

"We're still really young right now buddy." I try and answer as diplomatically as possible.

"What about when you're bigger, like mom and dad?" He continues to push the topic.

"Well, don't tell anyone," Drew nods rapidly in agreement as I speak, "but if Lily will have me, I'll happily put a ring on it and make her a mommy." I say cheekily squeezing Lilys thigh, earning a shove from her.

"Your sister is one of a kind, you know that Drew?" Lily ask jumping off the counter.

"Uh huh." Drew agrees and I smile as we all make our way into the living room to inevitably watch another cheesy holiday movie.

Lily

Paiges dad and stepmom had filled the table with the most delicious looking and smelling food I'd even seen. Thanksgiving dinner was not like this back home in Boston, in fact if my mom could avoid cooking all together, she would. I spent a lot of Thanksgivings at Emmas house and Christmases too, as a family we weren't very festive but the Bueckers were the complete opposite.

Paige was sat inbetween Drew and me with their parents opposite us, we each had a small glass of wine - Drew excluded and Paiges dad, Bob raised his glass, "It's tradition that we say something we're thankful for before dinner. Lily, as our guest, would you like to start?"

I look to Paige, slightly put on the spot but I don't know why because I know what I'm thankful for. It's easy, I don't even need to think about it. Paige sends me a small smile and a quick nod and I pick up my glass, "I'm thankful for my life right now and everyone in it. A few months ago things were very different and it was hard for me to see an end to that but going to Connecticut, changed everything. It saved my life. I wanted a fresh start and I got that. I'm thankful for all of the beautiful friends I've made, I'm thankful for the opportunities I get everyday to learn and grow and I'm especially thankful to be sat here. I'm thankful for being welcomed in your family and home as if I've always been a part of it. It truly means the world to me."

Under the table, Paiges hand squeezes my thigh in support and she leans over pressing a kiss to my cheek.

"I think that deserves a toast," Paiges stepmom says and everyone raises their glass of wine, even Drew picks up his juice, "to Lilys fresh start. May she continue to grow and blossom."

We all clink our glasses together and I have to fight back tears.

"And let it be known," Bob says, "anyone who makes my daughter as happy as you is always welcome in this family."

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

doubled it! chapter one now written at 1439 words! gonna grab lunch before doing a editing pass- and the more important task, picking the song to pull the title of the fic from...

over 700 words of the first chapter of the Detective au fic already written! not much more and i will have done all of the stuff in my outline, probably another 300 words or so.

not yet sure if i will hold onto it and have a reserve of one chapter so i can really make sure chapters work together, or ill just give in and post once each chapter is finished. ill see how i feel [and how much i write today]

[viking-raider]

SALT IN OUR WOUNDS - CHAPTER V

Summary-> After being found out by the Patrol, you try to act the part, to lower the suspension on Gus's presence.

Pairing-> Gus March-Phillipps/Reader

Word Count-> 3.3k

Chapters-> I II III IV

Warnings-> PG-13: AU, Language, Deception, References to WWII, Use of the word Nazi.

Inspiration-> The one and only Chaos Major, Gus March-Phillipps.

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction, pulled from my imagination.

Divider by->  @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

With the officers gone, Gus helped you to your feet, gently cradling your arm in his hands to look at the steadily bruising print on your bicep. His brows creased, as anger at the officer's roughness with you filled him again and guilt for getting you into this mess consumed him. Laying a hand on his chest, you offered him a soft, reassuring smile, nodding your head slightly.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, tracing the edge of the bruise with his thumb.

"It's not your fault, Gus." You cooed, brows pinching slightly. "It's not like you walked up here and asked us to take you in, We-" You looked at Edmund, who nodded at him. "took you in because we knew it was the right thing to do."

"So, he's not a worker from another village?" Your father's skeptical tone asked, as he regarded the three of you from his chair.

Edmund sighed heavily, rubbing the side of his face. "No, Pops. He's not." He answered, having not liked lying to your father to start with, despite it being needed at the time. Now he was going to have to ask something just as difficult. "She found Gus injured on the beach the other day, and we brought him in, so Dr. Tremblay could treat his wound. I know we told you he was working for me." He explained, moving across to sit beside him. "Now, however, the Patrol, and Trottier, think that Gus is her fiancé. We need to keep that story going. At least, until he's well again and, either they leave the area, or Gus can get back to where he needs to be."

"Can you do that, Papa?" You asked, frowning down at him, concerned for his well-being in the matter, knowing it was a lot asking your father to make merry with a random man who was pretending to be your future husband.

"Well, I have no choice in the matter, do I?" Mael answered, rubbing his shaky hands over his knees. "The mission has already been set up for me by the three of you. I'm just here as support."

"I'll make it as short a mission as possible." Gus replied, giving him a serious, but respectful, expression. "One Major, to another." He added, with a knowing glint in his blue eyes.

"I'll hold you to it." Mael stated, giving him a hard look.

"I guess there's no reason to finish the project downstairs." Edmund commented, sitting at the kitchen table with you and Gus, hands cupped around a fresh mug of coffee.

"Oh, I don't know." You chimed in, setting your tea down. "I really could use some shelves down there." You smirked, giving him a teasing expression.

Edmund gave you a squinty eyed look. "Use some shelves." He parroted, tapping the rim of his cup with his index finger. "Down-stairs."

"Mmhm." You nodded, brows going up, and giggling as Edmund's eyes flickered to Gus. "What are you looking at him for?"

"Wondering if he can get his fiancé under control." Edmund quipped, finally raising the coffee to his mouth.

"Well, I always heard, 'happy wife, happy life'." Gus answered, shifting in his seat, and glancing over at you. "So, if more shelves make her happy." He shrugged his shoulders, a gentle smile on his lips.

"Just because you give her everything she wants, doesn't mean she'll be happy." Edmund replied, an almost sour edge in his voice.

"Are you trying to compare me to Willamena?" You asked, cocking an offended brow at him.

Edmund finished off his coffee and pushed his chair back. "No." He said curtly, standing and striding over to the door, jerking his coat off the hook on the wall beside it. "I'll be back later." He huffed, going out.

"Is he all right?" Gus asked, look to you.

"Edmund will be fine." You sighed, shaking your head. "He and Willa, his wife, haven't been happy together in a very long time. So, it's a sore subject for him." You explained, getting up to take your and Edmund's cups to the sink, but glanced up at the clock. "I have to go down to the shop. We don't have anything for dinner in the refrigerator and I have to see when Remi wants me to work another shift."

"Is it far?" He inquired, coming up behind you and setting his own mug in the sink.

"No." You shook your head, biting your lip as you felt his intense warmth against your back. "Maybe a two minute walk."

"Why don't I go with you?" Gus suggested, cocking his head and smiling at you.

"Do you think you can manage with your wound?" You asked, a bit apprehensive. "I don't want you to over-extend yourself."

Gus's smile brightened and he reached out to squeeze your hand. "I'll be fine, I promise." He assured you, his thumb rubbing your wrist. "I could use the fresh air and sunshine. Plus, it'll help deter any of the Patrol, instead of making them more paranoid, if I stay inside a hundred percent of the time."

"You're right." You nodded, biting your lip, having not thought of what the Patrol would think of Gus staying hidden. "I'll get my shoes and something to wrap up in." You told him, before giving his hand a gentle pressure back.

"I'll wait for you here."

He let go of your hand and moved out of the way. Your cheeks felt warm as you hurried upstairs to grab your cardigan off the back of a chair in your room, pausing to fix your hair in the mirrored back of your vanity and spritz a bit of Soir de Paris. But you stopped, feeling silly.

"Acting like this is a date." You sighed, flustered, plopping down on your chair. fishing your shoes out from under the vanity and securing the buckles. "All right, I'm ready to go." You declared, coming back downstairs, finding Gus patiently waiting for you by the door.

"As am I." He answered, tipping his head politely, while pulling open the door.

"You mind her, Major." Mael called out to Gus, leaning forward in his chair to catch his eye.

"I would think of nothing less." Gus assured him, meeting your father's eye confidently. "I am her fiancé, after all." He quipped, with a wink, then followed you out. "Do we hold hands?" He asked, looking at you, but felt his heart kick at your startled reaction. "I'm only teasing you." He said softly, biting his lip.

"I know." You squeaked, flustered, before catching sight of your sister-in-law coming out of her home across the way. "Oh, that's Willa." You mumbled to Gus, before lifting your arm and waving to her.

"Morning, Willa!" You greeted her, grinning pleasantly.

Willa stared over at you and Gus, pulling a Rose-Tip out of her engraved case and her sky-blue enamel guilloche, sterling silver lighter from the front pocket of her knitted jumper. She didn't return your pleasant acknowledgement, instead lit her cigarette in a smooth and indifferent motion, eyes never moving off the two of you. Gus frowned, cocking a brow at her as he studied her standoffish demeanor; puzzled. She was just anti-social or if she was being rude.

"What’s her issue?" He asked you, his own eyes never leaving Willa.

"She's fine." You answered, sighing at your sister-in-law, your heart yearning to have a connection with her.

You had been excited upon hearing about Edmund courting someone; finally having another woman in the house to talk to, to share in the chores and just confide things to. Things you couldn't do with your father and brother.

However, from the moment you met, Willamena Badeaux had been distant from you.

She wasn't cold, per se, but she hadn't opened up with you either. Willa had been the first female in your close and personal circle, outside of the couple of elderly church ladies that would come over during the day. They would cook meals, clean the house, wash the laundry and just make sure you, Edmund and your father were well taken care of. After your mother had run off with her lover, the assistant shop clerk of the grocery store she frequented on her shopping trips. Which several of you figured were excuses to go and meet up with him; so she could cheat on your poor father.

But, the church women never went out of their way to be motherly or be a true confidant for you. Their love and friendship was out of pity. You were the little girl of a harlot and a mentally broken man, who could barely manage a job, dropping that weight onto his teenage son. So, when Willa came into the picture, you thought you would have a sister, not only to do sisterly things with, but to also learn how to be a woman. That's obviously not how it turned out.

She only came over to the house, if Edmund urged her to. She only held a conversation with you, if you were the one to start it and spurred it to keep going, otherwise she only spoke to Edmund or sat quietly. It only got worse, when the two of them married and moved into the cottage across the street from you and your father. Willa rarely came over for family dinners, meals you were still solely cooking for the four of you. Only occasionally getting a home cooked meal from her, after she and Edmund quarreled over her not performing her wifely duties and dropping the chores of two houses on you. As if you were their maid.

Part of you was sure, Willa detached from you, because she had been under the assumption Edmund only married her to be a mother figure to you. Not because he had been, once upon a time, madly in love with her.

"Do you need anything from the shop, Willa?" You asked, pulling yourself from sinking deeper into that emotional hole. "Gus and I are popping down there now." You explained, raising a hand and motioning to him, casually.

She stared at you for a long minute, before holding up her case, the sunlight glinting off the engraved bronze and mother of pearl. Nodding that you got the hint, you turned and started towards the center of town, with Gus following beside you. The sun was warm, heating the both of you, as well as the modest homes and buildings that lined the street, all converging on the limestone fountain round-a-bout in the middle of Saint-Thurney, spraying an arch of water from the top; a rainbow sparkling in the mist.

"This is really quite a quaint town." Gus commented, glancing about, following you across the sleepy street.

"It is." You replied, smiling up at him, proud of your little adoptive home. "It's almost like we're somewhere else entirely, instead of such a bustling and chaotic world." You told him, always feeling a sense of peace while in Saint-Thurney, even with a World War being waged around you and the town being occupied.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be." You added softly, stopping beside Remi's General Store. "This is the place!" You declared, waving your hand at the store's front windows, plastered with advertisements for goods he sold inside, several crate displays lined the bottom of one window. "You'll like Remi, he's super sweet." You smiled, reaching out for the door handle, only to have Gus beat you to it.

"Allow me." He purred, pulling it open and standing aside, for you to go in first. "Only proper for your fiancé to open it for you."

You gulped, biting the inside of your lip. "Right." You nodded, clearing your throat. "You're right."

Composing yourself, you went inside, finding Remi at the only register with one of the residents, Mrs. Moulin, the Mayor's wife. They looked up at you and smiled, before their expressions twisted into apprehensive confusion, spotting Gus coming in behind you.

"Morning, Remi. Mrs. Moulin." You greeted them cheerily, while trying to keep casual, like there was nothing out of the ordinary for Gus to be there with you.

"Good morning." Mrs. Moulin addressed you, her eyes still on Gus, as if she expected him to lash out at everyone.

"Who is this?" Remi asked, ignoring his manners, unlike her.

"This is Gus." You grinned brightly, looking back at him and your breath catching in your throat at the feeling of him taking your hand. "He's my fiancé." You declared, heart racing in your chest.

Both Remi and Mrs. Moulin looked floored at the announcement, particularly Remi, who you had worked for for several years and knew you'd never mentioned having a male suitor. Let alone a fiancé! So, selling Remi on Gus being your betrothed was going to be one of the other hurdles you faced, on top of the Patrol and Director General.

"When did this happen?" Remi snapped, dumbfounded and looking almost outraged. "You never mentioned anything!"

Gus rested his free hand on the small of your back, his eyes taking the other man in, sizing him up. "Keeping me your own little secret, Peanut?" He asked, a sparkle coming into his eyes as he looked at you, bashfully.

A zing shot through you, hearing him call by your nickname, your skin breaking out in goosebumps. "I have been." You smirked, bashfully turning your face into his bicep.

"How did the two of you meet?" Remi asked, continuing his interrogation.

"We knew each other from before she moved here." Gus answered, surprising you on how casually he came up with the fabricated detail. "I reached out to her just after I enlisted, and well, I proposed to her a year ago." He stated, smiling at you and caressing your back with his thumb. "Thankfully, she said, yes."

"Would you have gotten yourself shot sooner, if I said no?" You teased him back, getting lost in the moment.

Gus grinned at you, amused, but he felt something deeper. "Definitely." He nodded slowly, his blue eyes soft.

Mrs. Moulin gasped, crossing herself. "You were shot?"

"Yes, madam. I was." Gus replied, tipping his head politely to her. "That's the reason I'm here, and not back in Belgium; fighting." He stated, lightly touching his wound. "This lovely gem is taking care of me." He cooed, touching his thumb to your chin with a wink, making your knees a little weak.

"I thank you, sir." Mrs. Moulin said, straighten her petite body, then glanced around the group. "Fighting those damn Nazis."

Your mouth fell open, surprised to hear the ordinarily prim and proper lady, curse. "Mrs. Moulin." You mumbled, in a state of shock.

"Well, it's true!" She huffed at you, gathering up her grocery bags. "I'm sick of them being in my town, marching about, like they own it."

"I'd be careful with what you say, Mrs. Moulin." Remi warned, as she moved for the door. "You never know who you can trust." He said, eyeing Gus.

"Luckily, everyone here is trustworthy." You chimed, with confused surprise. "Have a good day, Mrs. Moulin. Say hello to the Mayor for me."

"Oh, I will, my dear." She answered, reaching out to rest her hand on your arm, looking between you and Gus. "You make a beautiful couple. You must let my brother, Zane, marry you when the time comes." She said, with a sweet smile.

Your cheeks blazed at her words. "We'll put him at the top of consideration." You promised her, offering her your own soft smile.

"Good." She nodded, patting your arm and gave Gus a cheeky wink, before scuttling out the door.

"Do I have a shift this week, Rem?" You asked, turning your attention back to your boss, who hadn't taken his judging eyes off of you.

"I haven't gone over the schedule yet this week." He answered, gruffly. "So, I'll have to let you know."

"All right." You nodded, feeling the cold coming off of him in waves. "Well, I have a bit of shopping to do for the house." You said, trying to shrug it off as Remi's reluctance to trust with the uncertainty of war, having lost both his brothers.

Gus stepped away from you, to grab a small hand basket from the stack by the door, holding it for you as you puttered around the modest aisles and freezers, grabbing a few items and placing them in the basket.

"Everything is so bare." He commented, watching you grab a box of oatmeal, only one of four on the scarce shelf.

"We're being rationed." You replied, sighing as you tucked a box of dry pasta in with the rest of your groceries. "Remi only gets a shipment of things once a week to stock the shelves. If you want something and don't get here early enough for it..." You trailed off, shrugging your shoulders dismissively.

“Suppose, being enlisted for so long, I’ve been a bit blind to the tribulations of civilians.” Gus frowned, his brow creasing heavily. “Not that I didn’t know about rationing. I just didn’t…” He shook his head, a hardness coming into his blue eyes. “Damned Nazis.” He growled, rolling his jaw.

You rested your hand on his elbow, looking up at him with a soft expression. “It is what it is, Gus.” You told him, quietly. “But it will change. We’ll beat them and everything will go back to how it should.”

“As it should.” He echoed, meeting your eye for a long moment.

What will happen after the War ends? No matter who wins. I’ll have to go back to the Army. I’ll have to leave her. Could I come back after my service? Would you want me to come back? Could I…

He shook his head hard, trying to shove the thoughts away. It was delusional to think such things, he was getting too involved and attached. He needed to keep a barrier between the two of you, to protect you against the danger he presented as an officer of the British Army.

“Well, what’s for dinner?” He asked, forcing that wall back up and peeking into the basket he carried for you.

“Um..” You cocked a brow at the basket’s contents taking stock of it and what you knew was at home. “I could make a simple stew. Wouldn’t be too much, but it would be something in our bellies.”

“I have faith in your cooking abilities.” Gus smiled, the sparkle coming back into his eyes.

“Kind of you.” You giggled shyly. “I think that's about all we need.” You said, biting your lip and glancing about the modest shop. “We can get rung up.” You smiled, heading towards Remi at the register. “How’s your Mum, Rem?” You asked, as he slowly added up everything in your basket.

Remi’s mother had suffered great shock at the loss of her two older sons, Duncan and Andre, who had enlisted and been shipped off to the thick of the war. Duncan had died in the Battle of Crete, taking shrapnel that nicked a serious artery and bled to death before anyone could do anything for him. The most tragic though, was Andre. His squad was ambushed by a German one and overtaken. It had been a hard time for many in the town, when they received the telegraph informing them of Andre officially being MIA. Every time Remi’s mother was seen, she was balling her eyes out and lamenting, prophesying that he too would die as her oldest did.

Two months later though, another telegraph arrived informing them that Andre had been found alive, but being held in a German Prisoner of War camp. His mother was relieved to hear he was alive, however she was still devastated to hear of his situation. Andre survived for a while in the camp. Two whole years, to be exact. But the fated telegraph ultimately arrived, one blustery day, and practically the entire town heard her screaming.

So, in that sense, you and Remi had developed a friendship based on an understanding of parents with mental health issues, inflicted by wars in some way.

“She’s doing all right.” Remi answered, not looking up from his task.

You blinked at him, ordinarily he would elaborate on how his mother was doing when you asked, even if nothing had changed about her. But you realized quickly where his reluctance came from, feeling Gus shift beside you.

Men. You rolled your eyes.

“Can I have Willa’s usual as well?” You asked, ignoring the thick air between Gus and Remi.

“Sure.” Remi nodded, half turning on his heels to grab the red and white, Rose Tip box and tucked it into the bag. “I’ll put this on your tab.” He said, setting it in your reach.

“Thanks.” You smiled uneasily at him, as Gus scooped the bag up and tucked it carefully against his good side. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” You told him, before leaving the shop and tracing your steps back home.

“What’s wrong?” Gus inquired, glancing down at you.

“Nothing.” You informed him, licking your lips and shaking your head. “Guess he’s just having a rough day.” You brushed it off.

Gus moved out of the cellar and into the cramped guest room upstairs, nothing separating the two of you now, but the wall of your closet. The two of you agreed it was much more agreeable to have him there than the cellar in the event the Patrol and the Inspector returned. They know doubt would, their suspension of Gus was all too obvious. It would also be more comfortable for him in the guestroom, giving him a softer bed, the luxury of sunlight and fresh air from the window that overlooked the back garden. As well as the beach, beyond the garden wall.

But as Gus healed and regained his strength again, he knew he had to find a way back to his men, and the war. He had to find out what happened to his men, if they were still alive. How he was to do that, was another matter altogether.

The last thing he recalled of the group was infiltrating a Nazi Intelligence Camp to rescue one of their own, Geoffrey Appleyard. They had gotten into the camp and things had gone well. He and his second hand man, Anders Lassen, moved smoothly together before nodding at each other and Gus looked back to Henry Hayes, jerking his head for the younger man to follow him. They moved swiftly through the camp, taking Nazis out left and right and making the camp practically useless for any that tried to use it again; with Freddy Alvarez setting up a plethora of explosives as a finishing touch.

Gus was proud of his men. No one had been seriously injured, beyond a handful of scratches. It had been one of their best in and out missions in the two years the unofficial, rag-tag group had been put together. That alone should have given Gus a measure of paranoia.

Missions should never go so easily.

The shot rang out and everyone in the group tensed, the jolly celebration that filled them instantly vanished as they dropped their looted goods and scrambled for their weapons, pulling out guns and bows. Gus hated being caught by surprise, especially by damned Nazis. He gritted his teeth, returning fire, while trying to assess the situation. They were a mile and a half from shore, where their boat was waiting to take them back to the safety of Allied Lines. There was a sparse covering of forest between them and their extraction point, that could give them some shelter. As much as Gus March-Phillippss hated being surprised, he hated running. But hearing Anders call out that there were too many and ammo was running low, Gus gave the signal to retreat to the boat, taking up the rear to ensure none of his men lagged behind.

It was him that lagged behind.

He felt the hot burn of lead piercing his side, faltering only momentarily, his eyes focused on the back of Lassen’s head, breath from his lungs starting to wheeze in his throat and his vision spot. Gus’s memory skipped in and out from there, like a scratched record. Spotting the boat ahead of the group and urging them forward, the heat of blood soaking into his clothing and his knees feeling like jelly. He couldn’t recall if he made it to or onto the boat with the others, then somehow fell overboard, or something more happened.

There were dark bits lurking in his mind of freezing cold enveloping him, no doubt of him in the Channel.

“Your father’s very into following the movements of the War.” Gus said one morning, sipping a cup of coffee as the two of you finished breakfast.

“He is.” You nodded.

“Does he only follow the major events or…” He trailed off, meeting your eye.

“No, he follows whatever is reported on or gossiped about in newspapers and the radio.” You replied, sensing his intent and sudden interest in your father’s hobby. “Why?” You asked, cautiously.

“I need to know what happened to my men.” Gus told you, bluntly and honestly. “I have to know if they’re still alive, dead or in prisoner of war camps. Perhaps your father has some information that could be useful to me, on that front.”

“How?” You shook your head, confused.

“I was injured during a mission.” He divulged to you, in a low voice. “It wasn’t an official or authorized mission, but there might be a possibility of it being reported on.” He cast an eye over his shoulder to the sitting room, where your father lounged in his usual spot. “Do you think he’d discuss it with me?”

You snorted at him and lifted your tea cup to your lips. “Do I think so? It’s more a matter of getting him to quit, once you get him going.” You said, taking a deep gulp of the rich, brown liquid. “But, yes.” You nodded, assuring him. “I’m sure my father would likely share any information he has on the War with you. Just wait until later in the morning. He likes to nap after breakfast, and he’ll be more receptive and energetic about the subject.”

“Excellent.” Gus smiled, patting your arm. “Would you like to go on a walk with me, to pass the time?”

“I think that would be quite agreeable.” You cooed, finishing off your tea.

[kaihuntrr]

The Sea Prince; Mermay 2024 (+ updates!)

shhhh what do you mean may is almost over-? i made a fun piece and everything!! well. pieces. the first one is a piece i just finished today, and the second is a piece of pearl in her prince form ;> happy mermay!

(i'll be talkin about stuff under the cut, if you just wanna see the art that's a-okay with me! happy to be drawing them again <3)

so. uh. mermay pieces <33 i really wanted to draw some majorwood art since ive been on an art high lately (writing for a good chunk of the year so far makes illustrating/designing SO much more fun) and i think it's coming to an end soon, so might as well end it with the darlings <3

also im?? surprised??? i didnt share pearl's art????? uh. oopsies! its tooootally not a spoiler. ;)

anyway! its been a good while since ive made an update post, and i want to keep y'all up to date with how things are going!

important thing to announce; act one has been completed!

me and @mewhoismyself have worked very hard to write and edit the work respectively, and its over 100k+ words! hope y'all enjoy what we have planned, im very proud of act one (in particular those final few chapters, i love rereading them) <33

as for act two, im taking a break to do other things (college mainly, but also commission work and personal hobbies) but im probably getting back to writing soon! currently, act two is on chapter three, as ive decided to rewrite chapters 2-7 in the original doc, so theres a LOT of cut content. all for a good story! i dont really mind it :0c

finally, im opening up betas again!

theres been a LOT of inactivity from most of them and i have a bit of a schedule to keep, so im hoping that a new wave of betas could help with providing feedback and whatnot. i need clear communication! betas help greatly in letting me know how they feel with the current flow, their thoughts, and anything i need to address before publishing the chapter. id hope to get some new folk on board before my friend and i start developing act two more! <3

just send a message in the comments or shoot a dm! im more than happy to reply :D!

that should be it, so i hope you have a good day! i had a LOT of fun working on the pieces above, and im gonna have fun working on act two, you'll just have to wait and see! <33

[vivid-ink]

'The Love Shack' Part IV - Haunted by You (Teaser Snippet)

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)

Snippet summary: It seemed like such a simple plan to execute: Stay away from Neteyam, distract yourself with other males and move on… But your body seems determined to fight you every step of the way, longing for the touch of a man you are desperate to forget… Your mind is haunted with memories of him, and the only place you seem able to find your pleasure is when you’re alone, drowning in your fantasies and pretending your touch is his…

Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI, masturbation, sex toy use

Author's Note: Here's a naughty little teaser snippet for Part IV of 'The Love Shack'! 😉 There will be another Sully brother threesome in the full chapter too, which I hope to upload next weekend. You just can't seem to get Neteyam out of your head, can you? 😜 Enjoy this little homage to self-love.

“Thanks for walking me home.” You pushed onto the balls of your feet to brush a kiss of gratitude against Kai’s cheek.

“Don’t mention it. Goodnight Neyomi, sleep well.” Dissatisfied though with your chaste farewell, one of Kai’s hands caught your elbow and he pulled you towards him to claim a proper kiss against your lips.

They were smooth and warm, comforting, but also entirely wrong…

Kai’s kisses didn’t spark passion within you, they didn’t make your heart skip a beat or make your stomach flutter with need. His kisses were too soft, almost tentative at times as if he didn’t want to scare you. It wasn’t what you craved. You craved confidence, sure hands and sure lips that consumed you entirely as they set your body ablaze with desire.

You forced as genuine a smile as you could at Kai as you pulled away to disappear into your family’s shelter, “Goodnight, same to you.”

Your parents would be asleep by now, but you still skulked through your home on silent feet towards the little alcove that was your own private space in the shelter. You were the youngest of three siblings and your two older brothers had left home several years ago after getting mated. It made home seem less lively than you remembered as a child, but you were thankful for the lack of people about now.

Less people at home meant less chance of someone overhearing what you were about to do.

You hadn’t found satisfaction with Kai tonight and your body still burned with the need to be satiated.

Hidden now in the privacy of your alcove, you double-checked that the thick cloths that hung from its entryway were tied and fastened to keep them closed and you lit the small oil lamp that hung in the corner. Little needles of shame pricked in your gut as you unfastened the ties your hips and behind your back, letting your loincloth fall while you shimmied out of your chest piece.

You weren’t ashamed of touching yourself, that part was natural. It was the shame of the entire conundrum you found yourself in that made your face flame. You’d been seeing Kai casually for just over a moon now and while your encounters with him were pleasant, and his touch felt good, your traitorous mind refused to forget the other man who your heart yearned for. Your body refused to submit to Kai’s touch and it denied you the height of pleasure with him as a result.

Kai tried, truly. It wasn’t lack of enthusiasm or skill on his part. It just didn’t feel the same. He simply wasn’t Neteyam. So, to avoid the certainty of awkward conversations and to save Kai’s pride, you’d faked your pleasure with him from the beginning. How low you had sunk…

It had been Tula’s suggestion to distance yourself and try to connect with other males.

Near distraught at the doom you felt after the night you’d shared with Neteyam, you’d spilled the entire truth to your best friend the next evening. Tula had looked on with a myriad of emotions and reactions as you relayed your story from start to finish; of your secret arrangement with the brothers, of the unadulterated bliss you found with them, and the subsequent crash and burn of your emotions for Neteyam at the end. You’d thought you could keep things simple, keep the lines clearly drawn between pleasure and emotion, but you’d failed ultimately.

Beautiful soul that she was, Tula hadn’t judged you, only comforted and consoled you before advising you of what you already knew you had to do. Put space between you and Neteyam, end the arrangement with him and Lo’ak, and try to move on. But alas it wasn’t working…

Sinking down to sit on your heels with your knees splayed, one of your hands snaked downward to its destination between your parted thighs. Licking your lips, you let your head loll backwards, eyelids sliding shut as your fingers smoothed through your still soaked folds. Your pussy throbbed, appreciating the repeated stroke of your fingers delving into its slick depths, alternating with a sensual massage over the swollen nub of your clit. You were helpless to stop the torrent of images and memories of Neteyam that swamped your mind; the feel of him suckling at your nipples; the feel of his longer, thicker fingers stroking in and out of your pussy; the ravenous look in his amber eyes as he looked at you while his tongue and lips wrought pleasurable havoc at your core.

Rolling a nipple between the fingers of your free hand, the dual stimulation made your pussy squeeze and pulse desperately for something to fill it. The three fingers you had buried to your last knuckle inside you weren’t cutting it and you needed something bigger. Your eyes travelled to the neatly piled heap of your belongings on your right where a cloth-covered satchel sat.

Pausing in your pleasure, you reached for the satchel and undid the fastening at its front to flip it open. Rummaging through it, it didn’t take long for your hand to grasp hold of what you were looking for.

Long, girthy and weighty in your palm, the blue toy was a striking replica of a Na’vi cock. It was called a dildo apparently and its use was obvious to you from the first time you’d laid eyes on it. You’d filched the toy from the toy box at the shack many weeks ago when the brothers hadn’t been looking. If they had noticed its absence since, they hadn’t remarked on it.

Heat pooled between your legs and you could feel your slick dripping from you in anticipation as you turned the dildo over in your hands. It wasn’t as smooth or as seamlessly designed as the other toys you’d been introduced to, and it didn’t hum, but by Eywa did it feel fucking good with its bulbous head and its ridged shaft. The dildo had a flanged base where it could suction to a flat surface and you reached towards your pile of belongings again for its accompanying aid.

Gingerly, so you didn’t make a sound, you extracted a long and shallow wooden serving platter from the pile. You turned it upside down so the smooth wood of its polished base was turned upwards towards you and placed it between your thighs. A wave of embarrassment washed over you again as you positioned the dildo on the platter so you could mount it.

Great Mother, your mother would kill you if she knew what you were doing with her serveware…

Lifting your hips and shuffling forward on your knees, you let the head of the dildo smooth past your folds, lubricating it. You were so wet that you knew the impressive size of the toy would be no issue upon entry. Aligning it with one hand, you let your weight bear down on it and your other hand flew to your mouth to stifle a muted cry as it breached you.

The stretch of it entering you was rapturous and your aching pussy eagerly swallowed its length whole, your inner walls squeezing appreciatively around its fulfilling girth until you bottomed out. It wasn’t warm with body heat and it wasn’t attached to your man of choice, but it was a close second. You undulated your hips, testing the feel of things, and when unfettered ripples of pleasure shot through your core at the movement you instinctively began a rhythm of gyrating hip thrusts.

Your fingers circled at your clit while you moved, your body rippling back and forth in time with the slight up and down of your hips. Your thighs burned with the exertion, but your pussy burned even more torturously as your climax came hurtling towards you. An unbidden fantasy of Neteyam groaning beneath you plastered itself to the back of your closed eyelids. You rode him wildly, imagined the feel of his fingers digging into your hips while you worked his hard cock in and out of you. You could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the shine of it over his flexing abdominals as he panted and strained with you. And then you felt the familiar burn of urgent pressure low in your pelvis.

It was like an old friend that had come by to visit. The urgent pressure mingled with the pulsating of your pussy and it thrilled you because you knew what it signalled, what was coming. You hadn’t felt this sensation in weeks, not since your last session at the shack when Neteyam had pinned you beneath him and drilled into you from behind with your face pushed into the plush bedding. Your encounters with Kai hadn’t even come close to the mounting bliss you were feeling now.

Caressing one of your breasts and stroking over the nipple one last time, you flew over the edge of ecstasy into freefall. Your face scrunched tight and you fought to remain quiet while your core clenched and pulsed with orgasm. Your inner walls had a crushing hold on the dildo, gripping it within you and your pussy gave a cathartic little squirt of pleasure. Chest heaving with panting breaths, your vision cleared as you opened your eyes, the last image your mind supplied was one of Neteyam smiling sleepily up at you.

The furnishings of the alcove swirled around you, the flickering flame in the oil lamp casting warm shadows about the place. You were alone in your alcove and you’d once again touched yourself to imaginings of a man you were supposed to be trying to forget. A juddery sigh of defeat left you and you flopped over onto your side, rolling onto your back so you could press your fingers firmly against your eye sockets.

The futility of the situation began to overwhelm you and you felt hot tears sting behind your closed eyes. Try as hard as you might, your little plan of ‘move on and forget’ wasn’t working. Kai was a wonderful man, skilled, respected and honourable. You enjoyed his company and everything about him showed real promise that he could be a good mate for you. But the heart wanted what it wanted, and it was Neteyam that your heart soared and longed for.

You hiccupped as sobs began to wrack your frame then. Your hands were pressed tight over your face and your palms grew wet from the streams of your tears. A smothered snuffle snuck its way out from behind the cage of your fingers and you fought to keep any more from escaping. The lump in your throat hurt and you swallowed it down stickily.

It said a lot that you found your sobs harder to stifle than your moans of bliss.

If only you’d kept your distance from the beginning. In hindsight, it would’ve been easier for you to have never known Neteyam like you now did, and to just have watched, daydreaming from afar. But too late now.

You’d made your bed and now you had to lie in it.

***~~~***

If you are new to this work & are intrigued, you will find the first three parts as follows: Part I, Part II, Part III

Author's Note: I'll be honest, I got quite hot writing this. I can only imagine what I'll go through composing the Sully bro threesome next... 🫢 Let me know if you're not already on it and you'd like to be added to my taglist for this work. 😘

Taglist: @teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @akiras-key @bajbr @qcswrites @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wheneclipsefalls @iameatingmyhair  @ele-sme @investedreader @oasiswithmyg @daeneeryss @pandorxxx @anonka01 @hunbomb @pandoraslxna @adrianarose7 @sunghoonmyluv @notnat02 @getthisoverwith33 @simp4myself @spicymayyo @animehoe1-800 @daddysmurfslefttoenail @iman-lu @creepytoes88 @flyingspacewhale @neteyamswifesworld @lostress101 @nilsavatar @solemnlover @asweetblueberry2 @blue-slxt

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (V) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Dumbledore's Army serves their detention with Umbridge. Y/N figures out the communication charm dilemma, and Regulus is unhappy with Y/N.

Part IV / Part VI / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Not canon compliant. More magic lore. Buckle up for some trouble.

You barely had half the mind to cast a muffliato over Regulus’ portrait to prevent him from hearing the chaos around you before you were crowded with a few other D.A. members by Draco. The Inquisitorial Squad surrounds you all, penning you in, as Umbridge continues to walk ahead, a pleased smile painting her face. 

As soon as you’re through the threshold of the DADA classroom, Goyle slams the doors closed, leaving your group of troublemakers with a gleeful Umbridge. 

Her grins grow impossibly wider, as she happily begins talking, “Now, now students. Take a seat. Today, you will be writing lines as a punishment for your insubordinate behavior.” 

You see Harry cringe at her words and the blood starts to drain from your face. You had heard whispers in dark alcoves of the castle about her barbarous detentions, and now it seemed you would be experiencing it firsthand. 

Good thing you decided to keep Regulus in the dark about this. You would have liked to leave him in your dorm like you usually did when you went to class, but Umbridge did not delay in bringing down her iron fist. 

Bloody sadist.  

You felt one of the twins place their hands on your shoulders, steering you towards a desk, only dropping down defiantly in the seat next to yours once you were sat.

Still dazed, you foggily make out how Umbridge levitates numerous quills onto all the desks, followed by a small cut of parchment. Regulus’ portrait seemed to almost burn in your pocket as you could feel the faint stinging of panic cut through your nerves. 

Satisfied with everyone’s complacency, Umbridge rests atop an ornate chair before chirping out your directions, “Now, you will all write ‘I must obey the rules’ until the words sink in.”

The cold sweat that breaks out on your body makes the room spin impossibly faster. Everyone was tense in their seats, a mixture of fury and fear permeating through the air. 

You didn’t know why you were panicking. You had faced far worse in the past. But, in a way, you were almost ashamed. You were going to be marked. Tainted. Tainted by someone as weak as Umbridge. You were at the complete mercy of a foe you and your friends underestimated. 

You all became too sloppy, careless. You were too comfortable, too naive. You would be sure to never make that mistake again.  

Taking in a deep breath, you picked up the quill that felt three times its normal weight in your hand, and began to write. The room began to fill with quiet hisses and muffled exclamations of surprise by those who were not quite aware of the darker nature of the punishment. 

This was definitely illegal. 

Your grip on the quill tightened impossibly, but the cursed object remained firm, unwilling to bend or break. As you continued writing, your rested hand began to burn as the words started to carve themselves into your flesh. 

The penmanship was unmistakably yours, and in a weird way it was relieving. You were being marked, but at least it wouldn’t be by Umbridge’s swirly penmanship. 

Steeling your nerves, you risk a glance at the front of the classroom, your hand stinging more at the sight of a pleased Umbridge enjoying a cup of tea on her throne. Feeling a stare aimed at the side of your head, you glance over and make eye contact with George who seems to see something on your face that has him shooting a scowl at the pink toad. 

Feeling reassured by your friend’s unrelenting bravery, you continue to write, finally finishing off the phrase. A drop of blood dribbles from around the word ‘obey’, the word carved slightly deeper in your skin than the rest. It appeared that in your stupor of staring at Umbridge, you slowed down in your writing. 

Placing the quill down, you shakingly bring your injured hand towards your chest, cradling it gently. Soon, everyone was finished writing and you were all promptly dismissed with a final warning. 

The trek back to your dorm room seemed to fly by in a blur, a fragile feeling of disorientation bouncing around your head the whole time. It felt like even the slightest disturbance could cause you to crumble in the middle of the walkway. 

No more D.A. meetings. No more practicing spells with the others. What’ll happen now? War was surely on the horizon, but there was nothing you could do now.

Umbridge would certainly report her findings to Fudge. Dumbledore's credibility would once again be put under the hot lamp by the Ministry. You all had severely underestimated Umbridge’s ferocity. 

Quietly closing the door to your dorm room, you make your way to your bed, robotically pulling the curtains closed. 

There’s no use dwelling on it anymore. You’d have to deal with the repercussions as they come. Instead, you shook your head and reached over to your bedside to look for your first-aid supplies. Pulling out your jar of murtlap essence and some bandage wraps, you carefully begin to apply the solution to your cuts, gingerly wrapping the bandage to avoid rubbing the wound too much. 

The stinging gradually faded and you let out a small breath in relief. As long as you kept cleaning it and wrapping it, it could possibly heal over nicely and perhaps even fade a bit. 

Quickly cleaning up, you realize that you could get your mind off of the day’s events by continuing to read Regulus’ charm books. The last time you had read through it with him, you had found a particular charm that seemed suitable, but you weren’t able to completely finish reading as you succumbed to sleep. 

Hurriedly flipping through the heavy book, you immediately delve into your research as soon as you find the marked page. 

Tacet Loquitur. A charm used most famously by wizarding scholar Cornelius Agrippa, the charm allows the caster to begin engaging in discreet conversation with the person of their choosing. The charm not only muffles and drastically silences conversation, but it can move sound to a distant perimeter without conflicting with the caster and converser. This displacement of sound may allow outsiders to attribute inklings of conversation to another source. The charm does not wear off and may only be negated by the caster or in the event that one member of the party dies. 

It was nearly perfect. You weren’t sure why such a charm wasn’t as popularized at first, but Regulus had told you it was a charm invented around the 1400s and became taboo due to public reaction. Apparently, the charm got Agrippa a hefty prison sentence in the muggle world, and ever since then it's been lost in history. 

However, even such a unique charm had its pitfalls. You wouldn’t be able to converse with Regulus depending on the situation because it seldom actually completely silenced the conversation. 

Leaving a bookmark in the page, you continued to flip through the book with your uninjured hand. You were growing a little worried, this book showed the most promise, but you were quickly nearing the end of it and you weren’t sure what’d you do if you finished without finding something perfect.

Suddenly, another charm had your hand pausing in place. 

Mens est Oculus. The Mind’s Eye charm, a charm used to project images and thoughts into the mind of a willing recipient. Briefly studied by Merlin, research came to a halt as individuals who abused this charm quickly were driven into madness from a cacophony of thoughts and voices. The charm's possible side effect of tearing open the mind’s veil of protection caused its use to be condemned greatly by the wizarding community. 

Oh. Perfect.

Nodding a little to yourself, you carefully pull out Regulus’ portrait from your pocket and prop him up against your pillow. Tucking your injured hand under the adjacent pillow, you sheepishly cast the counter spell for the muffliato you placed around him.  

Regulus looks severely unimpressed by you, so you break the silence first, “Hey, Reg.” 

Bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he releases a deep exhale from his nose, “Hey? That’s the first thing you’re going to say to me?” 

You were slowly becoming unnerved by his tone, unable to really pinpoint the extent of his frustration. Hopefully, he would have some mercy on you, even if he was unaware of your injury. 

Nodding slowly like a scolded child, you decide to try and placate him, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have casted a muffliato so suddenly, but I just didn’t want you to have to hear Umbridge and her gloating. Besides, detention was boring, we were just writing lines.”

Which is not totally a lie, it just wasn't exactly the whole truth.

He doesn’t seem all too convinced so you quickly reaffirm your previous words, “I’m being serious, Reg. Plus, I was honestly a little embarrassed."

He seems confused by your admittance so you slowly elaborate, "I mean you warned me after all that the whole D.A. thing wasn’t a good idea, and you were right…we did end up getting caught.” 

Also not a lie. A part of the reason you barred him from hearing everything, was because you were embarrassed about being caught. 

Regulus seems to have aged from the stress of the conversation alone, but he hums in acceptance.

Seeing your relieved expression, he decides to shift the direction of the conversation, “Alright, I understand, just try not to do it again. Now, what are you up to?” 

Your face breaks into a grin as you remember your findings, “I was just reading for a bit, and I may have figured out a way for us to communicate with each other in public.” 

Tilting his head in interest, he imperceptibly leans forwards and gestures for you to continue. 

Perking up at his interest, you can't stop the enthusiasm from leaching into your explanation, “Well, I was thinking that we could possibly combine two charms that I found. The first one would allow us to have a quieter conversation where all noise would be displaced so it remains discreet... and the second can help us configure all of it so it remains in our heads.” 

Sensing the hesitation at the tailend of your explanation, he raises his eyebrows and prepares for the dilemma, “Okay, and I’m sensing a large but here.” 

Pursing your lips, you nod and carefully continue, “The second charm is well…slightly riskier than the first. There’s not a lot of solid research on it so information is very limited, but from what I can tell, a notable side effect of it is madness.” 

Slumping a little at the news, you can tell that he isn’t exactly thrilled by the prospect of potentially going insane. 

Right, you remember, of course he wouldn't be, Black Madness does run in his family.

Fiddling with the frame of his portrait, you hesitate before continuing, “But…I was hoping that if we combined the spells, we could dilute the effects of the second charm. After all, the second charm is really only riskier when you’re consistently casting it, but the first charm would mean we would only have to cast it once.” 

Considering your suggestion for a few moments, Regulus nods at the soundness of your statement, “And you said it could displace sound? Theoretically, that would work the same way with the mind link.”

Blinking at his words, your brain begins to scramble for a possible explanation for what he’s implying. 

“What would that mean?” You breathe out. 

His eyes twinkle a little, evidently having worked something out, “It would mean that anyone performing legilimency on you would be unable to pinpoint our conversation. Rather, they would attribute it to background noise in a memory.” 

Your eyes widen at his words, a small laugh of victory falling from your lips, “Regulus Black, you are a genius. Truly, the workings of your mind never ceases to amaze me.” 

You are so caught up in your celebration that you temporarily forgot to mind your injury, bringing your bandaged hand from under the pillow and to your sides as you swing your arms out in fatigued relief. 

The realization hits you almost immediately and the room seems to drop in warmth, a deafening silence blanketing over the both of you. 

Nervously bringing your gaze to meet Regulus’, a part of you hoped that maybe he had become temporarily blind in those few seconds, but the chilling way he was staring at you told you that you were in for it now. 

This time, he’s the first one to cut into the silence, “When were you going to bring that up?”

Your eyes flicker between your hand, now cradled in your lap, and Regulus’ eyes which could pierce through stone with how chilling they looked. 

You were certain that any way you answered his question would result in a magical smite through the portrait, so you opt to look apologetic instead. 

Regulus, realizing that you weren’t going to answer, quickly began to seethe, “Y/N. I can see the blood. What happened?” 

Merlin. You should have glamoured your hand. 

As if sensing your thoughts, Regulus’ eyes narrow and it’s enough to have you spilling the beans, “It’s okay, just a slight injury. Umbridge is old-fashioned that way, but it could be worse, you should see what she did to the wall.” 

Your attempt to lighten the mood is drowned out by Regulus’ unforgiving temper and your thoughts slip into confusion. 

Was it that big of a deal to him?

Sure, it was barbaric and illegal, but surely it was nothing compared to what Voldemort deemed as punishment.

Unable to match his unwavering gaze, you finally look away from him and out the window. It remains silent for a while before he interrupts with a whisper, “You should get some rest.” 

Snapping your attention towards him, a pang of guilt jolts through you as you take in just how exhausted he looked. You were wildly confused at his decision to drop the conversation, but realized that you were feeling quite fatigued.

He always knew how to read you.

Nodding mutely, you gently place Regulus’ portrait on your bedside and quickly peek out from behind your curtains and into your dorm room. 

It seemed that your dorm mates were currently out, so you were sure you had at least a few hours before dinner. 

Laying down, you smile unsurely at Regulus, who’s watching you steadily. 

“Goodnight, Reg.” 

You hear his faint reply, but you’re quickly absorbed by a wave of drowsiness and before you even have time to think, you’re falling into the void of sleep. 

The first feeling you’re astutely aware of as you peer into your dark room is the gentle pounding of your blood quill wound. Slowly shifting to sit up, you can’t seem to shake away the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

Gently rubbing your eyes, you decide to get ready to head down to the dining hall. You hoped that maybe after eating for a bit, you’d be in the right mind space to try and converse with Regulus. 

After slipping on your robe, and readjusting your tie, you reach down to grab Regulus’ portrait. 

As you peer down at the small object, you suddenly feel a gust of dread singe your every nerve. The pounding of your heart beats in your ears and you can’t help but fumble helplessly with your hands. 

Illuminated by the setting sun peering from the panes of your window, Regulus’ portrait sits empty. 

Regulus was gone.

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txoru @surelysherly

[gothicflowers]

Alex Keller X GN!Reader

Field of Flowers

Warnings: Fluff.

“We’ve been inseparable for almost eight years. For some reason I just assumed I’d always have you around. I don’t wanna face that reality but I have to now. Saying goodbye completely ends the story.”

“New chapters mean you get to keep on writing the story. Why would it make you scared?”

“I’m terrified honestly. I want a life outside of all this, to be able to lay in a field of flowers and rest.” Motioning to your ballistics vest and the gun on his hip. “But ive been doing this for so long it’s almost like I have to completely hit reset on my life. I can’t tell anybody about any of this. About what I’ve done, the places I’ve seen. Hell, I can’t even tell them about you. It all dies with me.”

Over all these years with Alex you never told him your feelings. Too afraid to lose the only person who’s stuck by your side. Every mission, every wound, every sunrise and sunset he was with you. Learning to live without him was going to be hard. It was going to be even harder trying to start the life you envisioned without him.

Alex leaned against the hummer next to you trying to find the words to say. He hated that you were leaving. But he couldn’t ask you to stay with him. Not when he just abandoned the CIA for farahs army. But he loves you too much to tell you his feelings. He wants you to be happy, not to go to bed wondering if he’s ok or when he’ll return to you.

“I hope you find peace and get everything you want out of this lifetime. You deserve it.” His words felt heavy leaving his chest. “How about instead of goodbye, I’ll see you around.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. Biting your lip to try and stop a choked sob from leaving your lips. Nodding and looking at the sunset. “I’ll see you around Alex.” You look up at him, just as pretty as the day you first met. Only couple more scars and some lines around his eyes changed him. His eyes still sparkled when they looked into yours. A single tear falls down from your eyes taking in the sight of the man you’ll never see again.

His hand comes to rest on the nape of your neck as the other wipes away the single tear. Pressing a kiss to your forehead he takes in this final moment. His forehead rests against yours knowing he has to let go now or he won’t let you go. “I’ll see you around.”

And he’s gone. Gone from your life. You’re left watching the sun disappear over the mountains wondering why it is to be like this.

It’s been a little over three years since that day. You opened up that company you always told Alex about. Got a car and even purchased a home. Everything on paper looked like you had become quite successful. Your family was excited to have you home. But with all good things considered it didn’t feel how you thought it would.

The house was quiet. Making friends in your late twenties proved to be difficult. And every date you went on couldn’t compare to the man you left in a war zone. You thought about him often. Was he doing well? Was he making sure to eat enough? Was there someone that could cut his hair as well as you could? And the scariest thought, was he still alive?

Your dreams were fleeting with memories of your time together and the battles fought. Often times waking you in the night too scared to fall back asleep. Even though you were happy to be away from it all you still thought about it, if you hadn’t left. Stayed and told him that you loved him. Or should you have just told him before you left. At least then you’d have had an answer of some sort. Never to be left wondering like you still do. The waves of regret consumed you from time to time.

Today was a slow day, as most Mondays are for your company so it was just you today. You sat behind your computer finishing up this months paperwork. The front door bell chimed upon someone entering. Since it was just you, you headed to the front to greet the customer.

“Hello, how can I-“ you stopped dead in your tracks in disbelief when your eyes noticed the man standing there. Soft eyes, strong arms, and a smile like no other.

“Hi” he could barely make out that single word. Just seeing you took the breath out of his lungs. “I said I’ll see you later, not goodbye.” His mustache covered lips turned up into a smirk.

You run up to him wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. His warm embrace welcoming you into his arms. His arms wrapped around you felt more like home than anything has the past three years.

“I can’t believe you’re here” your hands cup his face, thumbs caressing his cheeks “What are you doing here?”

“Laswell got my name cleared, thought about lying in a field of flowers like you said.” His arms still wrapped around you not wanting to let go. “And there was something I didn’t tell you before you left, I’m hoping I’m not too late.”

“What didn’t you tell me.” Your arms unraveled and your hands rest on his strong chest. You could feel his heart beating fast.

Taking a deep breath he looks deep into you. “That I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you.”

Your voice weakened with the joy of hearing his confession. “I wanted to tell you I loved you before I left but I was scared you didn’t love me back.”

Alex looked down at you with a look you had seen glimpses of but never fully. It was love, joy, excitement and more passion than anyone had ever looked at you with in your lifetime.

Without words you both embraced in a passionate kiss making up for all the lost years. His hands pulling your hips into him closer desperately wanting to keep you close. Your hands traveling from his chest to his neck. Clinging to each other fearing separation. After what felt like eternity your lips departed one another.

“So since the moment you met me?” How could you have not seen? Was that truly what all those intense moments of eye contact meant? The fighting over each other going into something far too dangerous. Love?

His bright goofy smile was uncontrollable “Yeah”

You couldn’t help but laugh recalling that exact moment in time. “Alex I had a gun to your head because Laswell didn’t tell me I was gonna have a partner that mission. I was seconds away from killing you”

“Can’t lie it was definitely intimidating, but oddly attractive.” He smirked knowing it was the honest truth.

You give his chest a light hit at his comment “Shut up and kiss me again.”

“Yes ma’am.”

[imnotasuperhero]

Look into my eyes (search your soul)

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Your love for Wanda could make you go the distance and more, just to see her happy.

A/N: Here’s me with a brand new story. This is planned to be a multi chapter, and I know I should have everything written before posting but i need the validation, okay? Hope this is enough to hook you up and you enjoy this ride.

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX

Any and every word you were about to say flew your mind at the body at the other side of the door that just opened.Granted, your attraction to the redhead wasn't new. But just seeing her in that unique glow that pregnancy gives her was something that never failed to take your breath away.

"Hi," Wanda smiled something warm and your inside felt burning. "Didn't know you were coming."

"Neither did I." You smiled timidly. Truth is, you didn't even think about coming here when you left your client's house.

"Come on in," Wanda stepped aside as you entered the threshold. "How are you?"

Following her to the kitchen, you sat on the stool as Wanda umpromtedly filled the kettle with water, placing it on the stove. Eyes never looking away from her every little movement, as if a hypnotic spell was cast over you.

"I've been better," you smiled tiredly.

"At least tell me you got to sleep last night?" Wanda took your hand over the kitchen island.You felt your fingers burning as your thumb smoothed away the cute frown that formed between those green eyes.

"Don't worry, it's almost finished." You bit the inside of your cheek as your fingers ran the contour of her left side, caressing her warm cheek. "I did sleep," you sighed as your hand found its previous place.

"Good, I don't want you to get sick over work."

"Hey! I'm not that bad of a patient," you stuck your tongue out, earning a giggle from the woman in front of you.

"I never said you were," Wanda smiled as she turned around.

After both teas were ready, you moved to the couch in the living room, talking about everything and nothing, enjoying each other's company.

But said calmness was cut short when a guttural scream filled the room. Wanda's mug shattered as it collided against the wooden floor. Your senses woke up all at once as your mind ran a mile an hour.

Scrutinizing her over, your breath stopped at the wetness on Wanda's lap. "Wands,"The redhead looked down just to meet your eyes, after. Panic was written all over her face.

"It's too soon,"

"Shh, it's gonna be okay," you kissed her forehead before picking her up in your arms, walking fast toward your car.

"Y/N, please." Wanda grabbed your hands after you placed her on the co-pilot seat.

"It's gonna be okay," you smiled confidently, squeezing her hands. "Imma get the babies bag, okay? Just keep breathing, baby. You three will be just fine," you promised before hurrying back inside, running to the nursery.

The whole ride to the hospital had you multitasking as one hand was placed on the steering wheels, your right hand was clutched in Wanda's as she squeezed it to no end and your focus was divided between cooing Wanda, paying attention to the road and trying multiple times to reach Vision -thanks to technology for inventing the free hands. But the last one was to no avail.

"Are you the mom?" The gentle nurse smiled at you, freezing your mind.

"N-No," you frowned, seeing how the doctors hurried Wanda deeper into the building.

"Y/N, don't leave me," Wanda looked over her shoulder with pleading eyes, and you swore your heart did a somersault.

"I'm right here," you hurried yourself to her side, taking her hand in yours.

You tried one last time to get a hold of Vision, but the call was sent straight to voicemail. Switching through apps, you sent a quick message to Natasha, letting her know of the birthing of the twins and to tell the others, before you prepared yourself to get into the operating room.

Walking timidly to Wanda's side, your heart broke at the look of utter panic in those beautiful green orbs.

"You will be okay," you smiled warmly as you leaned down to kiss her sweaty head.The pause that settled between you sent shivers down your spine.

"If anything happens to me-"

"Nothing will happen, honey." You promised the redhead, trying to convey in those words all the love and trust you held for her. "You're gonna get out of here with your babies."

"I love you," Wanda groaned as another contraction took over her.

"I love you too," 'more than what a friend should.' You smiled. "Now let's get those babies."

Nothing had prepared you for what you witnessed that day. And you felt honored Wanda trusted you enough to let you see her. From now on, you'd never doubt her -not that you ever did- for your admiration for her grew exponentially at the work she's performed.

The tears finally ran down your cheek as your eyes landed on the bundle of joy being placed in Wanda's arms. Rosy cheeks and swollen face taking your breath away.

"Thank you," you looked at Wanda, seeing her too immersed in her baby to even pay attention to you. "He's beautiful."

Before you could get a response out, another contraction took over her, signaling she should birth her second child.

And the result was nothing different than the previous one.The warm feeling that settled inside you got you clutching onto Wanda's hand, not knowing if the reassurance was for you or her.

Once Wanda and the babies were moved to a private room, you looked up at the knock on the door. Adjusting Billy in your arms, you walked towards the door, smiling when you saw the woman behind the huge teddy bear on the other side.

“Oh, my. Look at him,” Natasha coed as she caressed the baby’s forehead with her index.

“There you are,” the redhead walked towards a tired Wanda, a lazy smile displayed on her lips.

“Hi, Nat.”

“They’re beautiful,” she repeated, looking at the sleeping baby by Wanda’s bed. “What are their names?”

“This one’s Tommy,” Wanda smiled brightly at the sight of her son. “And that one is Billy,” she introduced calmly, looking at you two. You felt your body on fire at the look on Wanda’s face. Granted, you couldn’t put your finger on what it meant, but you surely knew it was something you’d never seen before.

Placing Billy on the hospital crib beside his brother, you then moved to sit beside Wanda, squeezing her hand in a silent gesture.

“We decided I’d be the one coming to not overwhelm you,” Natasha spoke quietly, afraid the twins would fuss at any sound. “The big teddy is from all of us,” she explained, looking at the plushy animal sitting atop Wanda’s bag.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” Wanda nodded smiling.

After a few more minutes of you three chatting - mostly you and Natasha, as Wanda tried too hard not to snooze off, Nat said her goodbyes and you walked her outside the room.

“He’s on his way,” Natasha frowned with pitiness.

“About time he picked up,” you sighed leaning against the wall.

“That’s not your family, Y/N,”

“You think I don’t know that?” you retorted, angriness showing in your voice. “I just…”

“I know,” Nat hugged you tightly.

“I’ll stay till he comes.”

 “I’ll be home if you need anything. Yes?”

“Thank you,” you smiled her goodbye before taking a moment to just, breathe.The whole rollercoaster you endured drained you, even more so knowing Vision was on his way to his family, and you’d be sent to your lonely home. Daydreaming of Wanda and what it involved.

Once you calmed down, you entered the room just to find her with her heavy eyes, fighting the sleep she so much needed.

“You should rest,” you looked over the twins, smiling warmly before you sat in the chair.

“Lay with me?” Wanda pleaded. And you knew this was a dangerous game, but you couldn’t find it in you to deny her. So you complied, being careful not to hurt her.

“Better now?” You joked as you watched how she moved closer to you.

“Yes,” she looked up at your eyes. “Thank you,” she spoke truthfully.

“It’s nothing,” you kissed her forehead. “Now sleep. I’m here.” You just prayed Wanda couldn’t hear your erratic heartbeat, for every cell in your body vibrated at the close proximity of the body in your arms.

It was close to midnight when you heard someone enter the room, too busy to even be gentle with their movements.

“This is just great,” Vision growled as his eyes burned a hole in your head.

“Lower your volume,” you stirred awake, carefully getting up from the bed to not wake up a fast-asleep Wanda.

“Thanks for the help, but you can go now.” The blonde spit out venomously.And that just served to boil up your blood, waking up the courage inside you.

“I’ll go, but you should be more caring towards them,” you spoke quietly as you picked up your jacket. “Next time instead of getting drunk in a bar, pay attention to your phone.” You were stopped suddenly by a hard grip on your upper arm. Looking up, you sent daggers to the man holding you in place.

“Watch your words.”Freeing from his grip, you laughed something wicked.

“Watch your family,” you barked, trying your best not to cause a scene and wake up the sleeping redhead as you walked away.

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