#my friends were joking that i´m too good at raising creatures and will end up with almost 100 moths after getting 100 eggs and i was like

[barksbog]

Samia ricini "zebra" caterpillars in L3 stadium

[angelisverba]

thinkin’ bout you

in which harry owns a flower shop and has a major crush on a girl who comes in to buy flowers every once in a while (and he’s too shy to ask for her number) 

word count: 17.3k

paring: florist!h and y/n

warnings: just some pinning and lustful yearning. m for mature...

author’s note: i’ve been working on this forever. not to pick fav’s but i think florist!h comes second to sl23... hes just so.......well, you’ll see!!

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When Harry was given the option to go on a playdate with his car-loving and dirty-nailed schoolmates or spending the weekend at his nan’s house, he would often pick the latter. 

He preferred to spend his afternoons frolicking with her Siamese kitty in her wild-flower filled garden, sunbathing in the open grass, or napping on a quilted blanket under the large, round oak tree, with the kitty nestled into his tummy, keeping him warm. When he woke in the arms of his nan as she carried him inside the house for a glass of cool lemonade, he bore a band of pink sunburn over his button nose, and the blue and white striped Mickey shirt was sticking to the areas where his furry friend had provided an extra heat. 

So, it was safe to say that from the start, Harry’s tastes weren’t what could be considered ‘average’ or ‘normal’ or ‘straight’ for a heterosexual male of his age in current society. 

Not that he ever valued those opinions, but their impressions rang in the back of his loving head when the women who he brought to the comfort of his home made hurtful ‘joking’ comments on how ‘peculiar’  his choice of decor was or giving him prolonged strange looks before shaking their heads and yanking their clothes off so that they landed in a forgotten heap in some unimportant corner of his room. 

Granted, he still got a good shag, but it wasn’t enough to fulfill his desires regarding any actions associated with relationships. He wanted someone warm and soft and kind. Someone who wouldn’t judge his home, his music choices, his clothing, or anything else about him. A girlfriend, not a fuck. 

Long ago, he’d stopped caring about what others said about him. Adopting this mindset had given him some of the happiest and healthiest moments of his life (albeit occasionally, doubts merged with the ghastly shadows of his loneliness). Business at his flower shop increased as his charm increased with positivity, and a new life within him bloomed like a baby rose bud when he accepted that being single was okay. The ribbons of his bouquets bouncing with an added umf and the mist that landed on his skin when he changed the water in the flower buckets only enhanced the golden hue of his skin. 

Harry even took to renovating his home a bit. 

 Coincidentally, his apartment was located on the floor above his flower stop, and contained a significant amount of singular flowers in vases or bouquets in empty corners to prove it. An array of pastel colors smeared on the once blank walls. Bambi pink in his bedroom, sage green in his kitchen, and a French blue in his living room. The couch was a suede papaya three-seater with black and white checkered pillows, and the coffee table was an emerald-tiled piece standing on top of a geometric lavender carpet, a soft contrast against the dark oak of his floorboards. Harry’s taste in pop-culture, art, and literature was displayed on the frames hanging off his walls. Pictures and posters of his favorite pieces like Matisse’s Blue Nudes and Goldfish and The Dance II. An enhanced, enlarged photo of maraschino cherries and a raven haired pin-up girl. Another glass table by the end of the couch held a silver candlestick and a small statue.

Sometimes, the miniature Greek statue he bought at a thrift store of a man with his nakedness pure and unobscured to the viewers' eyes made his dick bloat against the seams of his pants. If he stared at it for too long, his eyes drawn to the softened cock between thighs that looked so flesh-like even though it was carved out of some clay or ceramic material, his mind would travel to sensual, honey-red places that he hadn’t been in so long. Harry’s imagination explored- as cheesy as it sounds- the sexual aspects of the male genitalia, and therefore his own sexual expeditions and how much he missed giving or receiving a good fuck. More often than not, he ended up with himself in his fist, forehead sparkling with perspiration under the candle lights in his room as his thighs and abdomen clenched with every buck of his yearning hips. 

The doorknob of his room was in the shape of an eye, the iris colored a brilliant blue. His king bed- no, frame, just a minimalist white base, pushed up against the wall with two tables on either side, both of them loaded articulately with vintage trinkets and ceramic ring trays shaped like seashells to hold his jewelry. His bedsheets were a stylish combination of pastel colors; lilac comforter, mint and sky pillows. Previously, they had been snow white sheets with strawberry print, but a woman he brought over said they looked like the sheets her five-year-old niece had. 

He changed them the week after that.

On the windowsill, a pot in the shape of a white, blue-eyed kitty with vines of string of hearts kissing the floor. A mirror in the shape of a heart with a pink trim besides the lightswitch, above his brown dresser. In the corner, a bookshelf stuffed with books that spilled over the seams, and perpendicular to it, the home of his pet chameleon, Owen (he wanted a cat, but when he went to the pet store and saw the dehydrated creature, he couldn’t leave him there). A 16 x 16 x 30 inch tank filled with a branch that cut across halfway. It was full of all the things he might need, maybe even too much of it, but it didn’t matter because when Harry was home Owen spent most of his time hanging off the collars of his shirts or snuggled in the ruffles of his hooded sweatshirt on his shoulder. The small, color changing friend adored his owner, and only morphed into a mild red color when Harry didn’t feed him more mango. 

The renovations occurred in his bathroom; a cherry-red covering the walls because it looked boring before (at least in his opinion).  The gold piping of the sink accentuated nicely with the darker color, and the sun seemed brighter when it streamed in through the window above his ceramic claw-footed tub. Owen particularly liked the misty showerhead stall in the corner, and as long as he kept his eyes to himself, Harry didn’t mind it if his green friend wrapped around the showerhead and enjoyed the mimicked tropical atmosphere. 

For awhile now, it had been just him and his chameleon (and maybe his mum’s cat if she was going out of town and needed a sitter) but he didn’t mind it. 

He got to meet new people everyday within the parameters of H’s Garden, and they all tended to overshare when it came to buying a bouquet. ‘My wife just had our son, want to see a picture?’ or ‘my boyfriend and I have our anniversary on Saturday’ and even ‘my sister had plastic surgery so me and my dad need something that says ‘congrats you look like Kim Kardashain now’ how ‘bout it?’ 

Stories ranged from sweet, to grotesque, to sad, to funny, and sometimes even evil- Harry didn’t like customers that gave flowers as a ‘fuck you’. He thought it was a waste of beauty and sacrifice. Flowers were living things that had their lives cut short in order to provide momentary satisfaction and life long memories to the receiver, not bitter feelings of revenge. Although it was still business, it pained him that such a pretty arrangement be misused. It was one of the cons of his work. He created what he considered to be masterpieces, and had no control over where they would end up, whether it be as a centerpiece for a candlelit dinner, or in the trash after the apology for a strong argument hadn’t been enough. 

However, Harry couldn’t deny that he didn’t love his job, because he did. 

When he turned 16, he’d determined that he wanted a peaceful life with a job that wouldn’t bore him. He wanted to be as stress free as possible, with his spirituality as a prominent highlight in his lifestyle. When he turned 18, he had determined that he wanted to be a florist, and began to save up to open his own shop with the occasional help of his friends and sister. He refused to take anything from his mother because he wanted to be the one giving her gifts and money and everything good after all of her sacrifices in raising him. Call him a momma’s boy. Harry loved his mother. 

Online seminars and college classes became his best friend, teaching him everything he needed to know about accounting, stocks, and how to keep his business going. He was a businessman first, florist second. During the slow seasons (the start of winter and an awkward half-week between summer and spring) he relied on his investments to triple-ensure that he had enough money to stay afloat. 

On his 22nd birthday, as a gift to himself, he signed the lease to the building that housed all of the pretty plants in temporary buckets full of flower food and water, and hired a graphic designer to design the cursive, golden letters that spelled out the name of his shop above the front door. 

 Now, three years later, he lived as happy as can be. 

And he wasn’t lonely anymore. 

Well, if you wanted to be technical, his relationship status was still a checkmark over the box labeled ‘single’, but his heart couldn’t be fluttering any harder at the sight of one of his regular customers, and she was there, creeping around in his brain to keep him company. 

She was the complete opposite of every girl he’d ever been with. She was sweet, kind, funny, and didn’t judge him for the way he dressed, or his profession. In fact, they bonded over things that previous women had… slyly berated him for. The color of his nails, the lace of his collar, the pattern of his flared pants,  and even the sheep on his baby blue sweater vest.  

She stole his heart the moment she walked through his door with a soft smile on her face, a sparkling gleam in her warm eyes, and placed it in her pocket the moment she said, “it smells lovely in here!”

Harry, awestruck and blushing because well, she was pretty and wore a shade of purple that somehow made her hair look so soft. Two strands of hair were pinned at the back of her head, essentially keeping the rest of it away from her face save for the few baby wisps that rested gently against her cheeks like a lover’s caress. The stuttering, stumbling cupid’s-bow-struck fool replied with, “thank you. It would be my pleasure to help you with anything you’d like,” and that had been his name, signed on the dotted line of a soul contract. Only she was not the devil. She was an angel. 

But even then, it wouldn’t matter. If she was the devil, if she was an angel, something in between or something new entirely he wouldn’t care because he was half gone for her already. 

“In that case,” she smiled, and Harry’s heart sang a melody it never had before. It was like the sun beamed from the spaces between her teeth and tickled the fuzzy spot beneath his earlobe. She had the most amazing voice, tranquil and clear and ethereal. “I just moved into a new apartment and wanted the place to feel like home. I thought maybe flowers would give it a little life.” 

He vividly remembers that the color of her cheeks changed to that of what is called a ‘blush’, but he didn’t know if it was a trick under the light, or a product of his wistful imagination. Her fingers gently skimmed the petals of a rose from it’s bucket near her hip, and one of the straps of the tote bag on her shoulder disrespectfully dropped away from her shoulder. He wanted to simultaneously rush over and fix it for her, and yell at the inanimate object for not being grateful of the fact that it had the opportunity to cling to her shoulder.

But, before either of these inner-conflicts met a sound resolve, her delicate fingers righted what was once wrong, and Harry cleared his throat, embarrassed because he’d stared for a little too long. He wanted so badly to ask for her name and how she liked her eggs in the morning, but instead he said, “there’s nothing like a bit of something pretty to brighten your day. Did you have something specific in mind?”

He hoped that the meaning of his words wasn’t caught on her, or that would be totally embarrassing and ‘loser’-like. 

When she walked out the door with a content smile on her lips, his own heart was beating faster than the flapping of a hummingbird’s tender wings. He was sure that he had never laid eyes on a pair of lips like hers, neither the feeling that blossomed in his chest at the thought that she might be smiling just for him to see and enjoy. 

Of course, it was a silly crush. One that clawed and gripped onto his sweaty palms with no sign of letting go. Maybe, Harry thought, it was because he hadn’t wet his wick in so long, and the interaction he’d had with her had sparked irrational, poem-inspiring feelings within the love cavern of his ribs. Because how could he fall head over heels with someone he didn’t even know? Surely, the swarm of hormone-pumped butterflies in his stomach was the beginning of a dead-end infatuation. 

Right? 

Harry went that entire day, appalled at the apparent angel he had the fortune of being in the presence of in her short fall from the tender heavens. He wondered where she placed the flowers she bought (an arrangement he was particularly proud of, full of lilac, delicate stems of lavender, and puffs of baby’s breath wrapped with a white bow) and where that tiny extension of him was. At the entrance of her home, right below the place she rested her hand against as she tugged her shoes off? At the center of her table? Maybe besides her bed? Where she would see the purple petals and white of him as he wrapped it every time she woke up or went to bed? He hoped- as much as it was a romantic thought- that it wasn’t the last one. He’s been so awkward, so pink. A blush on his cheeks he hadn’t remembered being there since the time he yelped, startled, at the unexpected pain of a tattoo needle, the artist pointedly peeved. Acting like such a boy. 

Right before crawling up the steps of his apartment, heart still bleeding with love-blood from the deadly tip of Cupid’s arrows, he made himself a mini version of the bouquet he’d made her, and placed it at the center of his tiled coffee table. 

*********

A few days trickled by, and the memory of her face drifted in and out of his mind like a giant sway of fabric slowly billowing in the wind. He was just so… struck by a slab of awe, stunned by her kind of beauty. Natural, the kind that hooks you in it’s purity, like the golden beams streaming in through transparent curtains on a warm spring afternoon. 

Her strawberry lips curved elegantly under her nose, and displayed a smile that leaked some sort of heady drug into the air because the air was sweet when he breathed it in. And when he handed the bundle of flowers over to her, the pads of her delicate fingers skimmed the rough ridges of his knuckles. He wondered immediately what kind of moisturizer she used, and if it smelled like honey or lavender or peaches. She smelled sweet. Sweeter than all of the flowers in his colorful soul shop put together. The colors that belong to her, on her person and worn by her, were more captivating than any of the tones that painted the petals on his plants. 

Owen got a kick out of this whole ordeal, though. Harry’s passionate mood had him divulging in munching and nibbling on things that tasted the way he felt; ambrosial, fresh and pure. It resulted in the purchasing of endless amounts of fruit, with many bites given to the tiny chameleon. Mangoes, strawberries, oranges, grapes, pears (Asian pears, if the store carried them, they were Harry’s favorite), peaches and guavas. The sudden craving for fruit might be explained as just a casual craving, but deep deep down inside, Harry knew that it was because he wanted to replicate the feeling that coursed through his golden veins when she giggled at something she happened to find funny. 

He wished that he had caught her name. The girl had paid in cash (and left a five dollar tip Harry fawned over), so he couldn’t have read it on her card, and he was halfway between charming and awkward that he didn’t even think of asking for it until the minute the door closed behind her, bells tinkling in announcement of her exit. He wished for a hundred different things, but he was not the type to live in regret. Not anymore. So after about a week of floundering in her memory, he meditated for an hour, tropical incense on one of his bedside tables, and cleared his mind as best he could. 

The next morning, he did the same thing. Woke up with heavy limbs, plopped himself down on his blue mat and stretched in various positions, his white boxers hanging low on his hips. His lips and eyes were sticky with sleep, and the back of his nose ached with cold air that he must’ve breathed in throughout the night after forgetting to close the window (again) but the pleasurable twinge of stretching aches between his joints were the perfect way to start his day. They urged his mind to transform into the still surface of water, clear and collected from any unproductive-pinning thoughts towards a girl he would most likely never see again. 

Even his clothes reflected his refreshed mindset.

Harry donned his favorite pair of flared  trousers in an earthy brown color, nestled snugly on his slender hips and around his thighs. The tight fit accentuated the way his back tapered into his waist, glutes shapely and sculpted. A maroon sweater vest that had a teddy bear embroidered on the middle of his chest, the small latte-toned stuffed animal seemingly childish, but on him it only directed attention to the spotlight daze of the velvety heart sheltered underneath his breathless plate. Underneath, a mustard long-sleeve shirt with tiny cherries printed on them. Some straight, some tilted or lopsided. His shoulders and biceps were hidden in the floofy bunches of cloth, anonymity given to the true thickness of his ink slathered skin. 

He looked like a corduroy dream. A thick milkshake of patterns and colors, but he managed to pull it off.

A tiny gold hoop on his right ear gleamed under the morning sun coming in through the windows and a pearl necklace rested against the downy skin of his throat. Slender fingered tipped with a coat of pure white, with his ring fingers accented in a shimmery pink. Chunky rings adorning the base of his digits; a silver rose, a band of dancing teddy bears (a running theme with him), two gold rings with his initials H and S on one hand, and a simple ruby stud from his graduating class. 

He looked good, he knew that he looked good, and was ready to begin a bright, healthy, non-pretty-girl-thought-polluted day. Even the old woman had pinched his cheek whom he had been assisting- a regular-had said he looked like a proper ‘nice boy’ along with ‘when are you going to her a lovely girl to help you run this place, Harry?’. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had momentarily sworn off women until his broken sentiments healed, and they had a long way to go. 

In the middle of wrapping a smashing set of tulips and fern stems with a cherry red bow, the bells adorning the top of the door frame dinges, announcing the entrance of another pleasant customer and giving passage to a gust of chilly air. Harry looked up to greet the customer with his usual pleasantries of ‘welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment!’, but the words died on his throat in a desperate hussle, just as the little mermaid had given up her voice to meet her gallant prince.  

It was his own personal little slice of heaven presented to him on the black and white checkered floors of his shop. Hair loose against her shoulders again, eyes cast downwards to inspect a bucket of fresh daisies that tickled the space above her bare knees. How she could wear a skirt in this biting weather, he didn’t know, and it partially prevented him from continuing his pursuit of admiring her because the first thought his caring mind jumped too was, ‘is she cold? And if so, does she need a sweater? Because I will gladly give her one.’ His second thought, however, was ‘how could someone be that beautiful?’. The third was something along the lines of ‘all my yoga has gone to shit, and I’m okay with that’. 

He cleared his throat, tightened the bow around the stems of the flowers in his hands and said, “I’ll be with you in a moment, love!” His head bowed, looking at his work because he wasn’t sure he could afford the medicals for the paralysis that was sure to take over his meek self if they made eye contact so soon. Harry needed a moment of homeostasis, his soul adjusting to her dulcet presence. 

The woman he was assisting, Edna, spoke, drawing him out of his daze, but he had been so deeply in thought that he had not heard what she said. 

“What was that?” He asked her. He grabbed Kraft paper from the roll by the register to wrap up her arrangement. 

“The girl. You like her?” She was smiling at him, wagging a finger the way his nan used to do when she caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. “Don’t lie to me, I recognize that look. I’ve given and received that look many times throughout my life.” 

The woman was not wrong. With age, comes wisdom, Harry thought, smiling to himself at being caught. A dimple carves itself into his cheek, nestling onto the space above the corner of his mouth as if he had no choice in the matter. The apples of his cheeks were shadowed with a dusky pink, and the tip of his nose was twitching like a rabbit when it stood on its rear and sniffed the air, only he was coy after just being caught and wanted to avoid the question as much as possible. 

“I’ve got no idea what y’talking about,” he chuckled, keeping his voice low so that the intriguing stranger in the store didn’t hear that their topic of discussion was her. He moved over to the register to ring her up, and even slid in a discount he applied to customers he liked. 

“Next time I come in,” Edna said, passing Harry her debit card, “I hope to hear that you got her number, dear. Don’t let these opportunities pass you up. Life is short. And who knows? She could be the one.” Harry gave her the card back after charging her, and handed her the flowers, too. All the while Edna was grinning at him, shaking her head like she knew something he didn’t. 

“Take care, Edna. And don’t forget to change the water every 2 days with the flower packets I placed at the stems,” he reminded her, sweetly wiggling his red-lacquered nails at her retreating woman as butterflies awakened in his stomach in a furious flood of nerves. The girl was looking around, her hands hovering over the up-turned faces of a bundle of lively sunflowers, browsing and quietly humming to herself as she waited. 

There was no backing out of this, even if he wanted to. And he didn’t! He didn’t want to back out. The girl was a customer, and he would have to approach her no matter what. But she was so pretty it was also intimidating. He doesn’t remember ever being this nervous while approaching someone, especially one he harbored feelings for. His heart was pounding so loud, he was sure it was audible. 

“Hello,” he wanted so badly to add ‘love’ at the end of his greeting. “Are y’finding everything a’right?” He asked her, his hands wringing themselves, palms moist with sweat from his unyielding need to impress her. The pink tip of his tongue poked out to swipe across his full bottom lip, and soon after that his teeth sunk down into it, nibbling with uncertainty. Harry made sure that he was standing straight, body aligned to face hers because in that psychology course he took once, he learned that it was a subconscious tactic to engage interest and pleasant replies to attempts at wooing another. 

At the sound of his voice, the girl jumped, startled at the sudden vibrations of Harry’s husky voice. Her delicate feet, he noticed, skittered on the floor from her tiny jump, and her doe eyes widened, shouldered rising and falling at a quicker pace than before from the new rush of light fear. When she realizes that it’s just him her hand flattered over the base of her neck and her collarbone in attempts to soothe her racing heart. 

“M’s sorry,” he whispers, his hand clamping over his mouth, and then lowering to his chin when he speaks again, “didn’t mean to scare y’love.” This time he can’t restrict himself. It comes so naturally, like the endearment was meant for her, and when a flush covers the bridge of her nose his first instinct is to coo at her for looking so cute. The second is a surge of guilt for having scared her to such an extent. 

“It’s okay,” she says, a little out of breath. The blush on her face was partly because she was embarrassed at her own reaction, while the other was that she had let herself act so freely and uncoordinated in front of someone that looked like him. Handsome and sweet and eyes so green they refreshed you upon first glance. Like the cool burn of water going into a mouth that had just chewed a stick of minty gum. “I want to buy these flowers.” 

God help him. Her voice alone was enough to make him melt. The lilts and melodies of her voice swarming all four of the ventricles in his heart with warmth, and every blood cell that passed contained a glowing heat, buzzing with her energy. 

She points to the sunflowers, her gaze lingering on them with longing. A soft smile toying on her mouth, and Harry could see the tendons in her throat stretch as she inhaled to add another thought to her sentence, “Do you sell vases by any chance?” The girl looked at him shyly, her eyelashes almost twinkling as she blinked, and his heart soared, “I had a really nice one in the shape of a big Coca-Cola bottle, and I accidentally knocked it over, so now I have nothing to put them in.” 

Harry is incredibly enamoured by subconscious gestures that take over her hands as she speaks, fiddling as if the vase she spoke about was in her hands, all in one piece before it was broken. He’s quiet throughout her tiny ramble, listening and taking note of her enticing antics. She’s looking down at the floor or the flowers or her hands, and when her eyes dance over to his steady gaze, “I’m rambling aren’t I?” she murmurs bashfully. 

“No, no it’s a’right. I can look in the back for something if y’like?” He suggested, arrowing a thumb to the ‘back’ he mentioned. “Did y’want anything in particular?”  

“Oh, I don’t wanna be a troubling customer!” She squeaked, concerned with becoming a nuisance she didn’t want to be. 

“Y’not a bother, love. M’promise. I’ll go look f’you. What color did y’have in mind?” He asked her, tone calm and soothing to reiterate his sentiment. She was not a bother. The only thing about her that bothered him was the fact that he did not know her name, and even that was his own fault for not asking her. 

His hands rest on his hips, tattooed cross momentarily hidden by the bunch of his sweater vest  as he waits for her to respond, his eyes locked on her mouth, her own tongue subtly licks her lips, adding a sparkly sheen to it that only drove him crazy. Ever the jilted fool, his mind jumps to what it would feel like to kiss her, or what it would feel like if she kissed him in other places. What fruits she tasted like, and what kind of kisser she was. A timid one? With a patient mouth waiting to be broken open with the force of his own? Frugal? Opening her mouth and giving him everything she had to offer. 

“Something pink, please. If you have it.” That smile again. One that told a million apologies it didn’t owe, with her eyes pinching at the corners with whatever nonsense culpability she felt. Her voice was sweet, Harry thought, like wind chimes on a summer morning. 

Feeling guilty for allowing such dirty thoughts to gallop through his mind when she was so… so pure. Like an angel. Even her way of presenting herself was shy and sweet, yet he was thinking about kissing her. Was that perverted? She was a customer he had seen twice, and his mind was already running wild with luscious assumptions; a sunday topped with a red cherry of sensuality. How awfully dirty of him. 

But! But those were not the only thoughts he had. He wanted to ask her what happened to cause her to drop her vase, and where she had bought it. If it was vintage, considering it was a Coca-cola bottle, and if she had any accidents while cleaning up the mess of broken glass. He wanted to hear her thoughts. No, better yet, he just wanted to hear her talk. He wanted to get to know her. To know if she was as nice as she looked. 

“‘Course,” he mumbled, his eyes shamefully downcast to the floor. “Be righ’ back.”

Harry stalked off to ‘the back of the store’. Truth was, there was no back of the store containing vases. There was only a small closet with boxes of items he might need around the store, like flower food, rubber bands, and decorative paper for the bouquets. A crate of bottled water for when he got too lazy to climb up the back stairs and into his home. 

His home. 

Plucking the keys from his pocket, a ring that held a ceramic swan his closest friend Mitch had gifted him with a humble admission of ‘saw this at a thrift store and thought about you, H, I had to buy it’, and five keys: one to the front door of his shop, one to the cash box in the register, one to the mailbox, another to the front door of his apartment, and one to his car. The one to his front door was painted at the head with pastel pink nail polish, so it was easy for him to pick out when he was dead tired after a long day of being on his feet (spunky shoes that he liked to wear sometimes didn’t help ease the ache on his back, and neither did his posture). 

The back door that led to the stairs had locks on both the inside and the outside. A deadbolt and chain on matching sides of the door to ensure comfortable sleep at night, and peaceful work time during the day. Not having to worry about curious children opening doors or nosy customers relieved him. It was a little amatuer, but the door made a loud noise when opened because it wasn’t quite level, and he had a tiny key so he could lock it from the outside, too. 

A loud shucking noise resonated through the store as he pulled the door open, and then again when he closed it behind him. The delicacy of his dainty yet large hands were nearly comical around the tiny golden pin stud that hung from the chain, almost slipping from his hands with nerves as he slid it in place. Harry didn’t think that she was nosy or anything like that, bit if he was going up to give her a vase of his own personal collection, he didn’t want her to find out and feel even more intrusive that she already did. 

He was a huge giver, and upon hearing her say that she broke her flower pot, his mind was already thinking about the perfect one to replace it. It just so happened to be sitting on his shelf with a bundle of dying lavender. Climbing up the stairs (the ache in his thighs was a mere twinge compared to what it was when he first moved here), Harry huffed and thought to himself all the ways he could ask for her name and number. 

Listen, I really like y’and would like to have y’number?”

Do y’wanna have my number so we can go out sometime if y’feel like it?”

“Is it alright if I get y’number so we can go out sometime?”

“Hey, love. What’s y’name?”

Nothing’s making sense to him. The pick up lines he had stored in his head for the rare times he would flirt with a girl were slipping from him. None of them seemed worded right to use with her. Too abrupt or too brisk. Not sweet enough. He wanted to treat her gently and to be worthwhile of her time. Plus, it also had to be smooth enough that it made her forget she was paying him for flowers or it would be awkward. He was a twenty-six man for crying out loud, not a twenty-one year old smile at the bar looking for a good time. This wasn’t a ‘good time’. This was… a courting. An inquiry to a relationship. A rose rose in a candlelit room. 

Harry opened his front door and moved in a quick jog to a table besides his hi-fi that held a translucent pale pink glass, fat at the base before twirling and widening a few inches at the lip. An image of a nude mermaid puffing out at the front like an engraving. Cuddling it into his breast, he grabbed the lavender, speed walked back to his kitchen where his toe banged against the metal of the trashcan as he pressed on the lever to open it. He hissed fuck under his breath and shucked the dead lavender into the bag before turning back to his door, closing it behind him, but not locking it because he didn’t want to keep her waiting. His feet moved quickly down the stairs, the one hand not holding onto the vase cupping a hand over the side of his hips that held his keys so they didn’t make much noise. 

The button on the chain slipped from his fingers a few times from their repeated clamminess, and when he was ready to finally twist the knob, he paused to take a breath and collect himself. Harry ran a hand through his hair, fixed his collar, and dusted off his pants legs. He wanted to look perfect for her. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he murmured to himself. He had a good feeling about this. About her. And if he messed this up because he looked bad or said something weird he would kick himself into a muddy ditch. 

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and calmly walked back, “I’ve got the last one,” he said, tapping the tip of the vase with his pointer finger. It was a lie, right through his teeth, but he was happy to tell it in return for the way she was looking at him in that moment. His eyes rounded out as he approached her, like the curves of hearts that made up the heart-eye emoji, or the puppy-dog face. Just another physical display of his growing affinity towards her. 

“Oh my god!” She said,  “It's so pretty!” The trapped crystals in her irises twinkled with bewilderment at the treasure Harry’s presented her with.  She’s got a smile on her face, and he can’t help but think, ‘wow, she looks like a freshly bloomed white lily’. 

There’s a vintage print hanging in his corridor, a ‘flower language chart’ with different types of flowers and a sentence beneath them describing the messages they send. For example, red carnations= my heart aches for you. The description beneath white lilies reads ‘my love is pure’. 

She asked him if it wasn’t too pricey, and he made up some fake sale he had going on about a hybrid BOGO in which if she bought an arrangement she would get a vase included in her purchase (he added “I’ve got a shipment of new ones coming in an I need the space cleared out before they get here” just to make sure his fib is believable.) And he explains this so shyly. Harry can’t keep his eyes locked on hers because she’s staring at him with an intensity that lets him know she's really listening, and it makes him squirm.  The tips of his fingers tap against the vase, and he’s tripping over his tongue, which is ridiculous because he already talks so slow. 

“I guess I was right in waiting then,” she said casually, waiting for Harry to finish ringing her up. 

His finger froze over the touch screen of the sleek, modern device (he wanted nothing but the best for his store) and listened to the exciting roar of blood through his eardrums at her words. I guess I was right in waiting then? What did that mean? That she was planning on coming back to see him and didn’t? Of course, it could also mean that she was going to buy something else somewhere else, but he couldn’t stop the vine of ripe hope that swelled around his chest. And she looked so apprehensive while saying it. As if she was walking on glass and was looking for cracks as she stepped. As if she was waiting on him to catch on to something.

Harry cleared his throat and looked at her through the corner of his eye, trying to be as discreet as possible as his fingers continued their deliberate work on the screen, “What d’you mean, love?”

“I was going to stop by sooner, but I just got in my head about it,” the girl shrugged, and adjusted the ends of her cardigan so they wrapped around her torso. She had a different bag this time, one of those reusable market bags that was made up of holes, and it was filled with two books and a can of green tea from the vegan store down the street. Harry thinks he can make out one of the titles on one of the spines, which looks suspiciously similar to something that he has on his own shelf. 

“Why would y’get in y’own head about coming to m’flower shop, hmm? It’s hardly that intimidating,” he chuckles to play off the dashes of pink and red that are painting themselves across the bridge of his twitching nose, “I don’t bite, either.” 

And he hopes that his wistfulness isn’t meddling with his vision because he swears that he can see a matching reaction on her own doll face. “I know! I know, it’s just that I can’t help it sometimes. Talking to other people makes me nervous.” 

Harry could coo at her right now. He doesn’t, though. He nods and smiles at her before reading her total out to her, “That I get, too. But y’doing just fine with me, love.” 

Waiting patiently as she digs through her bag for cash, he tries to not stare. However, it’s impossible. His eyes had a mind of their own dragging against the forces of his will to feast on her image again. Her hands and the tip of her nose. The base of her neck and gentle swell of her clavicles. The swoops of hair that hung in a curtain from her shoulder as her head tilted in search, and the how her teeth bit down into her lip in concentration. Harry counted the amount of times her eyelashes met her waterline in those few seconds of comfortable silence. Three. 

“I thought I had cash on me today,” something in her bag clicks, and she pulls out the rectangular card Harry’s become familiar with, holding it out to him between two deft fingers, painted with red hearts on a white base. “I guess I used my last twenty at the organic food store down the street,” she said. 

“It is pretty easy to get lost in there, isn’t it?” He took her card from her, and tried not to make it obvious that he was eager to read her name off of it as he inserted it into the machine. The embossed letters into the plastic read y/n y/l/n, and when he turns back to look at her, he can’t help the smile that spreads across his boyish features.

Y/n. 

Y/n, y/n, y/n.

This is what it must feel to be let in on a secret that’s worth millions of dollars. It must, because Harry’s heart is soaring with a closure he didn’t know he needed. Y/n, y/n. Her name tickled him. Stroked him. Lathered him with the honey smoothness of the beeswax shampoo he bought at that fateful organic store. It was a fitting name. Sometimes, one could tell a person ‘you know, I actually thought you were a Amy or a Jessica’, because their looks and style just didn’t match the strength or modesty of their name. But not y/n. It fit her like a glove. There was no other way to make sense of the way Harry’s brain was thinking. The name was her. 

“What?” Her lips quirk up into a smile and her eyebrows dip in confusion. Why was he looking at her like that? Did she have something on her face? Here she was, opening up to a cute stranger and she had something on her face? This, she thought to herself, is humiliating. Her finger dusted off non-existent crumbs from the corners of her mouth, “do I have something on my face?”

“No! No, no.” Harry’s careful beam simmered down from it’s previous brightness, and his hand nervously filed through the swoop of chocolate curls sitting on his head like a cinnamon roll. “I just think y’name is pretty thas’ all.” 

He murmured the last part so that it was practically incoherent, and lowered his gaze as a searing heat stretching like saran wrap around his head and the divot on the nape of his neck.  Oh, God. He was fucking blushing. Great Harry. A normally favorite among the ladies had been reduced to murmurs and thick, uncoordinated movements. 

Like dropping her card when she piped up again. 

Voice as small and quaint as his had been, "you think my name is pretty?” Her fingers are wrapped around the frail straps of her bag, tight enough that her knuckles were white and Harry was scared that she’d bury her fingernails into her palm. 

“I think y’very pretty.” He whispered back. He can’t even bear to look at her in fear that he’s totally fucked himself over once and for all. His logic was this: what girl wants to be told by the guy they’re buying flowers that they’re pretty after he reads her name from her debit card? Especially one who (if outside female sources are to be believed) dresses “the way my mother did when she was a girl in the seventies”? Jesus, fuck. He must’ve looked ridiculous. 

Harry opened his mouth to backtrack and apologize for being so unorthodox in his workspace, a breath sitting on his tongue with words ready to spew out, but the bell began to chime and it yanks his head from the register to the front and instead he said, “welcome! I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

Flustered and full of regret, the flower connoisseur returned his wired gaze back to y/n, who… was smiling at him? The kind of smile that said ‘oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that. Now please say it again’? Was he… dreaming? Did he have to pinch himself in order to verify that he wasn-

“Thank you... what’s your name?” Y/n looked at the card from his hands and sunk her hand- carefully, as to not get her fingers stuck in any of the tiny holes- and there was another clicking noise before she took her hand back out. That angel-like smear of girlish happiness was still on her, decadently radiating positivity and secret affection. Goodness leaked from the seams of her bones; through the cracks of her breastplate, radiating from her chest to Harry’s. He could feel it now. He could feel that his previous assumptions about her nature were true. She was altruistic and tender, like the inside of a bird’s wing. 

“Harry. M’name’s Harry.” This time, he didn’t hide his happiness. Even his eyes shone with a heightened, clear and sparkly shade of liquid evergreen. The joy that bounced inside of him like ricocheting metal balls in a pin game machine. His slender hand, fawn-skinned and graceful like the legs of a deer, stretched out between them. His mother had taught him that along with the first introduction of his name, a handshake must be present, always. Dipping his head slightly, and his words spongy with love-ditz, Harry rumbled, “Nice to meet you, y/n.”  

She placed her hand in his, and was practically swallowed by only his palm. He curled his fingers around her, thumb and middle finger overlapping around the clammy center of hers. So she was nervous, just as he was. Y/n was trained on their embracing limbs, and he could feel a spot on his neck where the skin palpated from the rush of blood as she observed their entwined digits. Their hands moved up and down, up and down between them for longer than necessary until her chin twitched back up to meet his, and she blinked mawkishly, slowly, like the videos of rehabilitated barn owls Harry sees on his Instagram. 

Then, suddenly, as if she remembered she was not the only one present, y/n jolts upright and shakes her head dazedly. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Harry. I like your nail color,” she added. 

He’s cheesing. A shit-eating grin too big for his face and it carves dimples into the flesh of his cheeks. His name on her tongue had never sounded so appealing, like it was made for her and only her to say. Not even the turtle-doves that cooed outside his window in the mornings sounded as beautiful as she did saying his name. And she complimented her nails! She hadn’t scrutinized him like others had, instead, she displayed her admiration for them. No one- well, actually he can’t say that without offending Mitch- no female of his age had ever received him with such open-mindedness as hers. If he didn’t have any self-restraint, he would giggle. Instead, Harry pulled his hand back so that their perfect moment wasn’t sullied with bouts of bad timing, “thank y’love. I like yours, too. You’ll have t’come over sometime and paint mine, yeah?” 

Y/n laughed, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been too bold, “I’d love too!” With glee frozen on her, she turned to look over her shoulder at the customer who was browsing the flowers Harry had in buckets, “I don’t want to hold you back from a customer for so long. I’ll stop by again soon, Harry. Thank you so much for your help.” 

The moment her hands reached for the wrapped bundle of sunflowers and the mermaid vase, a metaphorical grey cloud of rain and thunder manifested in the space above his head, and blocked all of the sunshine from spanning across his toned, lithe body. Did she really have to go? He wanted to whine. Maybe even wrap himself around her ankles like a child that refused to leave the park. They were only just getting to a mutual spot of comfort! Forget the other customer, he wanted to shout. Harry would kick them out and flip the sign to ‘closed’ if it meant only a few more minutes in the presence of her candy-coated charisma. 

But he knows that’s unrealistic, and settles with, “it was my pleasure, y/n,” a flirty wink (at least he hopes it is), “I’ll be waiting f’your next visit.” His taffy lips wrapping effortlessly around his smooth words, fueled by her welcoming receptiveness to his advances. It would be easy to be himself in the future, a little smoother and eloquent in his language and feeling. He was usually clear with what he wanted from anyone, and made it a pleasurable experience in all aspects for both parties involved (once it was three). Harry wanted to sweep her off her feet, and he wanted it to be an enjoyable experience for the both of them. Revel in that feeling of blooming emotions in a new relationship. A healthy one, in which he wasn’t receiving back-handed compliments all the time. 

He wasn’t superficial enough to push anyone off the table based on looks alone, but it did help that y/n had the disposition of an angel. An ethereal voice, supple lips that looked so silky and soft they had to feel that way, too, and hands that felt so tender in his. Perfect for holding on a late night stroll, or over the center console of his car when -if they go out on dates. 

What really hooked, reeled, and sinked him, though, was the fact that she was so nice to him. From the start, she’d been nothing but polite and sweet with him. Don’t even get him started on the way he swooned at the tone of her voice when he said that her name was pretty! So quiet and velvety, careful and calculated like she wanted him to know that it was okay. That she wasn’t thrown off by his comment. He nearly toppled over, clutching his heart with his legs jutting straight up into the air like a frightened goat. 

It wasn’t until the bells stopped ringing the sad notice of her exit that Harry realized he passed up the perfect opportunity to ask for her number, and as he kicked himself over it, he walked with the perfect customer service face he could muster to help the other person in his store. 

***

Harry was having a shitty morning. 

Not the kind of morning where every aspect of his routine is a terrible mishap, but like the water being too cold and the stove not working or the bottle of oat milk in the fridge being empty so he couldn’t make coffee. No, everything was fine and rolling smoothly, as it should. 

His water was the perfect temperature and ran down the toned bumps and divots of his muscles like the relaxing thrums of a lover’s caress in the midst of prowling heat. As soon as it hit his back, he released a sigh of contentment, his shoulders hunching and head rolling back and his hands roamed his shoulders and the back of his neck, rubbing away any aches that existed. The branch of eucalyptus that hung from the golden pipe of his showerhead fused a thick minty scent into the steam that fogged the glass wall, and the calming aroma helped the tendons loosen like the deflating limpness of untied shoelaces. He spent a few minutes just standing there, inhaling and exhaling deeply and feeling his lungs open and stretch beneath his rib cage. 

It almost made him wish that he’d opted to use his tub for a hot bath instead. 

He was able to cook an egg just fine on his stove, with dashes of Everything Bagel Seasoning with a side of avocado and a slice of toasted cranberry walnut bread, the same thing he had every morning. The carton of oat milk was brand new from his trip to the market the day before, and his coffee tasted the same as it always did. But… he was just... sad. An melancholy soreness that eroded against the insides of his body, consuming him slowly but surely and leaving him with a lost feeling of emptiness and unimportance. 

He thinks he might know why he’s feeling this way. 

While he’s stirring his scrambled eggs, he’s wondering how y/n likes hers. Over easy? Sunny-side up? Scrambled, like him? Did she even like eggs in the morning? What did she eat in the morning? He knows that some people ‘aren’t hungry’ in the mornings, though that’s only because they’ve gone hungry in the mornings before for an extended time period, and after so long of not feeding their growling stomachs, their brain discontinues the signals of hunger. Harry hopes that isn’t the case with y/n, and that she’s eating the proper three meals a day every day. 

And while he dipped a mini vegan chocolate croissant that he got at Whole Foods, he also wonders what she likes to dip chocolate croissants into, or if she even likes chocolate croissants. If she was a person who likes sweet treats, like strawberry tarts with powdered sugar over them or something lighter, like fruit cut into small squares in a bowl. When Harry was younger and would visit his nan on the weekends, she would pick fresh strawberries from her garden and cut them up for him when he’d woken from his nap. Sometimes, she would even sprinkle half a tablespoon of sugar over them. He wonders if she’d ever eaten strawberries like that. 

It’s been a week and a half, he still hasn’t seen her, and his heart is yearning. 

Harry knows he’s not in the correct headspace to assist other people with a cheery disposition about an hour before opening time, and decides it’s best if he writes a note on the door about how the shop wouldn’t open that day because he didn’t want to taint the reputation of his business by snapping at a customer for the only bundle of sunflowers he had, or dissolve into a puddle of love-sick tears in the middle of ringing someone up. Though really the notice just says ‘H’s Garden will not be opening today. Sorry for the inconvenience!’ followed by a frowning face and a lopsided, filled-in heart. 

Harry drags his feet back up the stairs, his lower lip jutting out in a discreet but depressing pout, and grabs Owen from his tank so that the chameleon could curl into the shoulder of Harry’s hoodie while he moped on the couch to sappy rom-coms that would only make him think about her more. At least there was someone there with him, even if his small green friend only used him for mangoes and papaya. They sit together for the entirety of Romeo + Juliet, and when it’s over, Harry’s sniffly and standing up to return Owen to his enclosure and to clean because the riotous emotions that whirl within him are too much to process while sitting down. 

Cleaning wouldn’t help him solve his problems, but it would help him cram all of his worries into a tight corner at the back of his mind- sort of like when dirty laundry began to overflow in the hamper and it requires extra force to shove it all in, only to come all back out like a memory sponge. His tormented thoughts on y/n could be compared to a dramatic inner monologue, very similar to how Romeo feels about his Juliet. But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and y/n is the sun. Harry has the play on his book shelf (the one with the side-to-side modern English translation because he was never quite gifted in the English department) and as he reaches for a bandana to tie his hair back, he finds himself resonating with a particular line: parting is such a sweet sorrow.

There was no need to change any of his clothing, since he was already dressed in one of his more impromptu outfits; grey sweats and a white t-shirt that read ‘women are smarter’ in black across his chest. He tied the red bandana into a knot at the back of his head, and lifted it over his chin so that it settled on his forehead, sweeping his hair back with a final push back. It doesn’t get in his way when he crouches to clean his various tables, spraying cleaning products with his shirt pulled over his nose, another organic product that’s supposed to be less harmful and smells like cinnamon and sandalwood. His shoulder blades begin to ache because he’s being a little more aggressive than he has to be, but the green tiles were sparkling so he was content. 

He washes the dishes, mops the kitchen floor, vacuums the carpets, cleans Owen’s habitat, and tidies the mail that piled up on the table when he finally calls it quits. Scouring his brain for something to do, to keep him busy- his brain busy, Harry settles on the floor with his back to the edge of his bed. He’s shirtless now, and is in need of another shower but he’d rather not because he knows he might end up crying over the possibility that he’s scared y/n off. There’s a book in his hands and a Frank Ocean record playing softly in the background that mentions something about ‘I've been thinkin' 'bout you, do you think about me still?’ and it’s not helping his case at all.    

It’s no use. 

There’s a plague of darkness buzzing like cicadas in his ears. He fears rejection and criticism. That maybe, she was only pretending in order to make the situation more pleasant so it ended sooner. Most of all, he feared that it would always be this way. That he would never find someone who embraces who he is as a person. Always met with mean side-eye glances or second looks of displeasure and confusion. It isn’t always that way, though, because then that would mean he gets absolutely no action, and that isn’t true. 

Harry is very… well-educated in matters that concerned sexual intercourse, but it was always a one-night stand ordeal. It was never ‘I really like you we should go out sometime’. In fact, he noticed that only time his approaches were well received were those in which he was dressed in a calmer manner. Simple, solid colors with sneakers or a t-shirt. Girls would flirt back, make good conversation, allow him to buy them a few drinks, and when he’d take them to his apartment they’d ask why he lived on top of a flower-shop, and if it was his sister or female-friend’s palace that he was crashing. Sex would ensue, but his heart wouldn’t be as present and engaged as he wanted it to be. 

Wrong. It was always so fucking wrong, and God, if he didn’t get out of this apartment he’s going to breakdown and cry and there’s no one to call to come over because Mitch is on a trip with his girlfriend, Sarah, and his other friend Jeff is on his honeymoon in Sweden. They were the only two on his mental speed dial list during the rare occasions he had a crisis, as they were the two that Harry had ever really opened up to. Mitch was a bit closer to his heart. They’ve known each other since their school days and practically grew up together (at one point they had small crushes on each other, which were confessed years down the line). Jeff was the owner of Winsome where… where y/n had mentioned spending her last twenty dollar bill. He didn’t have an issue opening up to them. He liked opening up to them, but he didn’t understand why they were the only two that ever truly opened their arms to him. 

A walk, he decided, would help him… air out his brain. Calm down. Breathe a little deeper, a little easier. 

He threw his white shirt back on, and a forest green sweatshirt that donned the emblem of the school he went to earn his business degree that fit him wide around the shoulders and felt like a marshmallow. Putting on a pair of beat up shoes, he shoved his keys into his pocket, hobbling and nearly losing his balance because he was moving way too fast. The door closed behind him with a slam, and even though he was still wearing the bandana around his head, wispy stray curls framing his face in a wild mane, his distress palpable through his appearance, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to get out and feel the cool air against his skin. 

There’s a backdoor behind the stairs that will take him to a small alleyway that leads to a back parking lot where other shop owners that live at the top of their stores on the same side of his street parked their cars. He unlocks it from the inside, and throws his shoulder into it, desperate to her out. When it shuts behind him, he doesn’t turn back because it’s the kind to lock from the outside when closed. His fingers curl into the ends of his sleeve so that the tips of his fingers (nails now changed to a sparkling silver color) are the only parts of his hands visible. 

Rounding the corner, he whistled the cheeriest tune he can muster. His lips are puckered and his cheekbones high with the extension of his mouth. He’s not very happy on the inside, though he remembers reading something somewhere that if you pretend to be something long enough, you’ll eventually become it. If he pretends to be happy, then he’ll actually be happy. 

Right?

Harry rounds the corner of the parking lot and turns on to the main street. It’s only two in the afternoon, so there's people crawling in and out of shops anywhere. He even sees a man and a woman peeking into the window of his store, and he would feel bad if he wasn’t in a shitty mood already. He’s so out of it, that he nearly yells ‘get your hands off my windows!’. He doesn’t though, because for a moment the woman becomes y/n and the man becomes him, wrapping a ringed hand around her waist and whispering in her downy ear ‘they’re closed, darling, let’s go somewhere else’ and she straightens dejectedly, pouting playfully and standing up and her tippy toes so that she could press a quick kiss to his lips. 

That image fades though, and the couple continues with their stroll, hand in hand, and his heart is wrenching, writhing and trying to yank itself free from it’s place in his chest because it hurts too much to stay. 

Cars whizz past, and he skirts in and out of people on the sidewalk, keeping his pace fast and focused. There’s no intended destination, he’s just moving with the intent to forget the pretty girl who haunts him. Her voice is all he can hear. Her smile is all she can picture. And the rest of her is all he can imagine, which is exactly what hurts the most. Imagination only goes so far, fulfils so much with uncertainty of what the truth was and what wasn’t. Harry could imagine her with her feet up on the lip of a bubble filled tub, a glass of wine in her hands, but then…what kind of wine did she like? Or did she even like wine? And did she even have a bathtub to stretch out in after a long day? 

He curses the crimes he may have committed in past lives to deserve this torture. This unbearable pain that felt like he was being dunked in a slow-acting acid. He can do nothing about it but keep walking with labored will power. He passed his shop, and a bakery and a small thrift store that sells used clothing for way too much money. At the propped open double-doors of Jeff’s Winsome, he decides to talk in and browse. There’s so many items that smell good and taste good, that it was fun to just walk in and look. 

“Back again so soon, H?” 

Spinning on his heel, Harry comes face to face with Niall, a brunette, fit, Irish bloke with a chummy smile and a killer sense of humor. The two have brokered a sort of friendship, considering the amount of time (and money) that Harry spends there. Niall has even started calling him ‘H’ in silent homage to his flower shop. 

“Y’know I can’t stay away,” Harry attempted to joke, his lips pulling up in a weak smile, “plus, I think I needed s’more of the peppermint essential oils f’my diffuser.” 

“‘Course ya do! You're worse than the bloody vegan mums that come in asking for gluten free baby powder!” Niall cups a hand over his mouth and loudly whispers to so that only Harry catches his verbiage. There was a woman in the back of the store, looking through soaps in the limited kid’s section, the same exact kind that Niall was speaking about. “Go on and look around then, I’ll be here when you’re finished.” He said. 

Harry only nodded his acknowledgement, and moved in between wooden walnut shelves. The entire store had a caramel brown color scheme, with only the inventory adding color to it. Macramé potted succulents and plants added to the natural, outdoorsy feel. Winsome had an interesting mix of smells from all of the aromatherapy based products it housed, but it only added to the appeal. 

Currently, he held a packet of four lip balms that advertised to be ‘100% all naturally derived ingredients with no artificial additives' infused with ‘healing power of crystals’, two of them ‘citrine cherry' flavored, and the remaining ‘garnet guava’. The brand name is something in Italian that he can’t read, packaging thick and a triangle made of arrows in the corner signaling it can be decomposed and/or recycled. He had the same exact ones at home, only they were all misplaced and- 

“Harry?”

A small, timid voice called his name from behind him, and he froze. He knew that voice. It was the same one he had repeated over and over in his head for the past week, waiting for her promised arrival with a hopeful heart. 

His eyes go wide with recognition, body still and stiff like a deer caught in headlights. His heart begins to rump at a furious speed, loud in his ears like a million stampeding hooves. The packaged products in his hands shake, and then she speaks again, “Harry, is that you?” 

Is this really happening right now? He’s embarrassed at having been caught with lipstick in his hands of all things, but he can’t put them back now. It was too late for that. He lets them hang at his side, and turns around. He hopes there isn’t perspiration dripping from his temples because all of a sudden he wants to yank his sweater off. 

Harry turned, slowly. He feared that if he moved too fast she would fly away like a startled dove. 

“Y/n…” He’s breathless, but he manages a pitiful quirk of the corner of his mouth, which he licks over right after, “hi.” 

She’s wearing a dress this time, frilly at the hem which fell just above her knees. It’s pink and covered and lined with blood red trim at her forearms. A string of pearls glistens at the base of her throat, and her lips are covered in a sheen of lipstick. Her hair, however, is a tousled mess, pieces of it framing her face and untucked from her bun as if she had been jostling around. Her cheeks are flushed with the cold, and clearly that thin beige cardigan hanging off her elbows is doing nothing to keep her warm.

Y/n smiles at him, with the same shakiness, “f-for a second I thought I was talking to the wrong p-person.” 

 It’s quiet again, and they’re both fidgeting. Y/n’s knees knock together as she shifts her weight from foot to food, and Harry idly rubs his finger under his nose and sniffs boogies that aren’t there. She’s staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on her heels and he can’t think of anything to say because he’s so paralyzed by the fact that she’s actually standing in front of him, and looks as gorgeous as ever. Had he somehow manifested her presence? 

While she’s hiking up the ends of her sweater so that they’re situated properly on her shoulders, he says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Aren’t y’cold?”

Her head snaps up and she peeks at him from under her lashes while flattening a hand at her thigh, “a little bit.” 

Harry watches her tuck her hair behind her ears and wonders if she came walking from her apartment again. In the cold. Dress as she was. Not that he had a problem with the way that she was dressed! He understood that sometimes when people grew bored they used the smallest occasions to dress up and have some fun and get out of their homes. He did it too, sometimes. To clear his head. Hell, isn’t that what he was doing now?

“D’you need a ride home?” He stumbled over his tongue to backtrack, not wanting her to think that he was a wierdo or anything like that, “t-that is if y’walking, I wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything like that. S’bit chilly out today.” 

Y/n smiles shyly at him, a blush on the highest points of her cheeks, and rubs the side of her face against the fabric of her cardigan, “thank you, for the offer, but uhm… it’s my friend’s baby-shower-gender-reveal thing today and I came with my other friend to some last minute gifts and some flowers. I was going to buy some stuff from here because she’s crazy about the whole ‘no preservatives’ and all but, and I was also going to stop by your shop to buy some flowers, but I saw you were closed so I…I’m rambling again.” She sputtered out the last bit, and pressed the tips of her three middle fingers to her lips to stop the words from coming out. 

Harry smirked at her antics, but it’s more of a repressed smile, and the rest of his humor gleamed in the sea-glass of his eyes like a message in a bottle. 

“S’alright, love.” He’s still holding the lip balms in his hand, and he can feel the moisture that’s collecting on his palms dampening the Kraft like material as he gestured to her dress with the tip of his chin. “Y’wearing pink. I take it y’want the baby to be a girl?”

“Actually, I know it’s a girl. She told me,” y/n pips, shrugging smugly. 

Harry laughs at her this time, “Did you finish with all your purchases here? I can make an exception and open up f’you.”

“Oh, Harry, I don’t wanna bother you! Because if this was your day off then-”

He lifts a hand to get her to stop, and uses the opportunity to twist around and put back what he had in his hands. The conversation is flowing so smoothly now, that all of his previous worries are gone. He can only focus on her and the way her eyelashes fluttered and the crystalline sparkly in her voice. 

“Y/n, it’s fine. D’ya finish here? We can head over to the shop now if you’d like.” Harry points a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door. 

“Uh, no. I just got here so I still have to go grab some things,” she said, pushing her hair past her ears again. He thinks that she can probably tell the disheveled state her hair was in, because she begins to pop off a pin in her hair to readjust it. He doesn’t mind it, though. He thinks she looks cute. Angel-like. 

He nods, rolling his hands into fists within his sleeves so that the cuffs hang over his knuckles, and tries not to trip over his legs as he backs away. “A’right. I’ll wait f’you in the front, then. Take y’time, love.” 

“‘Kay,” she gleams at him, biting down on her bottom lip, and Harry turns away fully before he starts whining about how cute she is or before there’s a dent in the heather grey fabric of his sweatpants.  

At the front, Niall has his chin at the palm of his hand, and as he gets closer, Harry lifts his head to see that the brunette is wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. There's a shit-eating grin on his face that clearly points to a mountain of teasing in the near distance. 

“A little love-struck, mate?” He said, as soon as Harry was within hearing distance. At least he had the decency to keep his voice down, he thought. 

Harry flips him off, “oh, bug off.” 

Silver glitter sparkling on his nails, and his gaze strays to the floor, bashful of how clear his affection was. He turns to rest his bum against the counter and pulls out his phone to appear busy as he waits for y/n, mindlessly opening Instagram to have something to do (and to stop him from glancing at her ever two seconds).    

“Yup. I knew it. Have y’asked her out yet?” Niall doesn’t stop to let Harry refute his question, “y’know she comes in sometimes, after stopping by your place? And she just will not stop talking about how nice yeh were to her.”

Harry’s head snaps up from his screen so fast, something at the back of his neck creaks with the force. Instagram is long forgotten.

“What? Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” He doesn’t mean for his words to come as aggressive as they do, but the thought of her speaking to someone else about him is… well, it’s thrilling. 

Alarmed, Niall’s hands come up near his face in the motion of surrender, “no, man! Dead serious. Think she likes yeh, honestly.”

He can only say: “Fuck me.”

Niall is about to respond when a quiet voice breaks their stares, “I’m all finished.” 

“Already, babe? I’ll rig ya up, then!” 

He’s quick to slide the few products over the scanning square, and y/n and Harry stand beside each other silently, their height difference laughable. Niall’s gaze flickered between them with no commentary, and his lips pucker with a wiggling smile when he finally announces her total. A bit too much for a small changing blanket, oatmeal-based baby lotion, pacifiers with a lavender infused towel attached to ‘aid with goodnight night’s sleep’, and a bamboo hairbrush with a tuft of soft bristles. 

Nonetheless, she provides the money with a pleasant smile. Harry can see a bit of tightness around her eyes that suggests discomfort, but he doesn’t say anything. Niall hands her a paper bag with her purchase, “there yeh go! Have a good day now, y/n! And be good, to Harry!” 

Harry’s eyes widen at Niall’s last comment, and it takes every bit of self-restraint in him to not reach the other counter and whack him in the back of the head. Instead, he shakes and ducks his head in near shame.

Y/n, however, quips back with “I’ll be nice only if you’re nice,” and bumps her shoulder against his before walking towards the door, looking over her shoulder at Harry who’s smiling wide now, and trailing after her with no regard to Niall at all. 

He shouts something after them about being rude lovebirds, but Harry doesn’t care. He’s floating after this heaven-sent like cartoon characters being led to a freshly baked pie with their nose on the scent. His rump high in the air like the Lorax disappearing into the light in the clouds, utterly ignorant to everything else. 

When they’ve both stepped outside, they speak at the same time, 

“Let me just-”

“Do y’wanna put-” 

Harry and y/n giggle at each other, 

“You go first.” 

“Y’speak first.” 

And then they laugh again. Harry pretends to zip his lips and throws away the key, and she says radiantly, “I’ll drop this off in my friend’s car really fast and we can walk to your flower shop.” 

Watching her approach a car parked two spots away, a girl with blue, pink, and brown hair leans over to the passenger side, seat belt straining against her throat and when she sees Harry, she waves and it makes y/n push her back to her spot behind the driver’s  side. Whoever this girl is, she and Niall have to meet, seeing as they can’t mind their own business. He chuckled and waved back, that girl laughing along with him and it made y/n cover her face with her cardigan covered hands. 

“I’m sorry about Charlotte,” she said when she got back, “she doesn’t know how to mind her own.”

“A bit like Niall, it seems.” Harry said. He waits for her to catch up before beginning to walk down the street. Side to side, shoulder to shoulder. They’re so close, Harry can feel the warmth of her body heat through the fleece of his sweatshirt. It’s cold, and she’s still this warm? 

“Maybe,” her eyebrows raise, and her head tilts towards him, “they should meet.” 

“Tha’s exactly what I was thinkin’!” His voice rises with his excited agreement, and the tip of his nose wiggles as he scrunches his nose. 

As they get closer, to H’s Garden, Harry reaches into his pocket for his keys, fingering through them so that they wouldn’t have to stand in the cold for so long. He didn’t want her to get sick. 

“I’m sorry, Harry. I feel really bad about this,” she whispered beside him, looking up at him with doe eyes as she worried her lip between her teeth, the sheen of gloss adding an extra allure to her image at that moment. “It’s your day off, and I’m bugging you.” 

They stood in front of the door now, underneath the green umbrella cover that extended from the top of the door and down the side of the window. Harry waited for her to step into the little alcove created by the indent of the door before stepping in after her and jiggling the key into the lock. He resisted the urge to pull his lips down into a cooing frown at the look on her face. She really was worried about disturbing him. If only she knew that he spent the entire day moping (and nearly crying) over her. 

He sucked on his teeth, “oh, love, please worryin’ about it. Don’t wanna see that frown on y’pretty face anymore okay?” His confidence was slowly coming back, “s’not my day off, I just didn’t feel like speaking to customers today.” 

Shrugging, he opened the door, and took a step back to allow her to step through first. Y/n ducked her head as she passed him with a murmured ‘oh, okay’, and he followed right after her, wanting to get away from the cold too because he knew that his nose was probably pink at that moment, but what he didn’t anticipate was for y/n to stop right after breaching the threshold, and bend over at the waist to pick something up from the floor, causing Harry to bump into her at such an awkwardly sexual angle with all of his momentum. 

Considering he was half twisted away from her and in the middle of pulling out the key from it’s slot, the amount of force in Harry’s push from behind was enough to cause her to nearly fall forward, a surprised whimper slipping from her lips. Harry, determined not to see her fall, lets go of the key and reaches out just in time to grasp her hips on either side, pulling her back towards him mid-fall so that she doesn't collapse on her face. 

However, in the midst of all of this Harry forgets himself and uses a bit too much force. Not to mention, the implications of their position makes him hyper aware of every single place their bodies touched, her small frame against his lithe, tattooed body. 

This moment only lasts for a few seconds, but he can feel everything. 

He can feel the easy give of the skin of her hips underneath each finger that touched her, the softness of the flesh on her thighs against his sturdy knees. The fabric of his sweatpants is suddenly non-existent, and it’s almost as if he felt every taught tendon of her legs, frozen with efforts of helping catch or brace herself. The heat of her groin is flush against his, and it makes him want to scream with a sudden sensitivity. Her ass is practically seated on him, full and malleable against the points of his laurel covered hip bones. Harry’s semi-hunched, as her weight also pushed him back, and the position is doing nothing to help his frenzied mind settle. He feels like shit because he’s being a horny, pubescent kid instead of asking her if she’s okay, but then y/n moves back into him to straighten fully and their centers grind. Her dress is semi-bunched at the halfway point of her bum, and he can feel heat emanating from her, radiating back on his bloating cock. He has to stifle a moan when she pushes herself up with the tips of her fingers. 

Just as quickly as it started, it’s over. Y/n is dusting her bum off so that her dress falls and covers her modesty, and she’s beet red in the face, not looking at him. Which was fine by him, he was too ashamed to look into her eyes. 

He clears his throat (something he’s doing a lot around her) and asks if she’s okay. 

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay. This was on the floor,” she squeaked, holding up a neon yellow notice sheet in her hand. That damned thing was what caused all of this?

It’s a notice from the delivery men that said, ‘sorry! We missed you!’ with a time and date messily scrawled on the dotted lines. Harry had forgotten that he was getting a shipment of several plants that morning. 

Cursing, he takes it from her, “t-thank you. Now how ‘bout those flowers?”

It’s awkward, obviously, but y/n is severely silent. Harry’s still stuffy in his pants, but he ignores it and doesn’t add any fuel to the fire because there’s more pressing matters at hand than a boner. Y/n is the most quiet she’s ever been around him, considering all of her word vomits and ramblings, and he’s suffering. Definitely beating himself up in his head for having ruined the moment. He held onto her for a second too long, frozen. She must feel so embarrassed, and he was self-endulging like a fucking asshole. 

Harry asks her questions on what flowers she’d like, and she answers by pointing or bringing a stem to him, laying it on the counter without a word. A mixture of dahlias and baby’s breath with a handful of feverfew to make the pink in the dahlia’s stand out. He lays them out on his work table, cutting the ends at an angle where they need to be cutted and laying them out on a sheet of clear, dusty rose paper. Three packets of flower food are strewn at the corner, and y/n busies herself by fidgeting with them. He grows concerned when he makes a comment on the kinds of ribbons he had stored and she doesn’t say anything. Not even a nod or a hum. 

Eventually, he decides he’s had enough of her neglect, and pauses his work to devote her some attention.  

“Love, I’m sorry about what happened,” he said softly, trying to catch her eyes, “I know it probably made y’uncomfortable, and I didn’t do much to make the situation better, but I just didn’t wanna see y’fall.”

Y/n’s head is already dipped, so he can’t see her face, but when her shoulders begin to shake, he knows he’s utterly fucked. She starts to sniffle, and his eyes go wide. The paper crinkled as he set down the baby’s breath he’s holding in his hands. He hates seeing people cry, not because he didn’t know how to deal with it, but because he often ended up crying along with them. Also, he just didn’t want to see her cry. Harry wanted her to be happy, glowing, and smiling. Not dull with dollops of woeful distress in liquid form.

He rounds the corner and spares a look out to the street, wanting to make sure that there is no strange onlooker eavesdropping on their interaction. His hand reaches out to stroke her back or shoulder comfortingly, but he thinks better of it and drops his arm. She most likely would not like to be touched, considering what just happened between them. He drops his head, seeking face-to-face interaction, and speaks as gently as he can, “y/n, what’s wrong?” 

She avoids his search, and turns the other way while sniffling, “you probably think I’m weird now or something after that.” 

“No!” Harry exclaimed, jerking his head back as if he’d been struck, and her words practically had. He can’t believe that she would think that and even go as far as verbalizing her thoughts when he worshipped the ground she walked on and didn’t even know her that well, yet. “No, no. I don’t think that. Y’tripped, that’s all. Happens to everyone. If anythin’ I’m the weirdo for grabbin’ y’the way I did, and I’m really sorry about it.”

Y/n dig the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, “that was so embarrassing, I should’ve told you I was gonna stop or something. I always embarrass myself in front of cute boys and I never know what to do. I just-” 

Harry interrupts before she can dig herself further another hole. He highlights a segment of her words, dropping everything else in hopes of changing the conversation and taking her discomfort away, and mostly because he was bursting with relief and happiness. She had said that she thought he was cute, just how he thought that she was adorable, and nice, and everything good. They were on the same level, their minds in sync. Did that mean…

His voice is airy and light because of what she had just admitted, “y’think I’m cute?”

She stills with awareness of what she’s just said, and a puppy-like noise seeps from the back of the throat before her hands sink further into her eyes, embarrassed. Harry tenderly wraps his fingers around her small wrists and pulls her hands away from her face, murmuring about ‘don’t rub y’eyes anymore, love, y’gonna hurt’ with nothing but kindness. A millisecond of distraction speeds through his mind at the softness on the inside of her wrists. 

There’s a trickle of blubbering in her part, her bitten lips bumping against each other as she attempts to backtrack, “I mean- I- I-”

Harry decides that it’s now or never. It was a bit inconvenient, perhaps, but with her revelation his confidence soared and he was more prepared now to ask than he ever had been. So, he goes for it, “can I have y’number?” 

A moment of semi-uncomfortable silence as the unknown tips the scale. Would she say yes? Would she say no? His head was spinning and he hoped his nose didn’t start bleeding or something because y/n nods slowly, smiling, and then, “okay.” 

He’s elated. He was the polar opposite of what he had been that morning. If only Owen could see him then. He doesn’t waste any time reaching into his back pocket and handing her his unlocked phone. They don’t share any words, only coy glances and flirty quirks of the lips as the tips of her fingers move on his screen. Harry can’t believe that he’s finally getting her number, after nearly a month of pinning. 

When she’s finished, she clicks it off and sets it next to him with an added pat to the back of his suspiciously clean white phone case while he’s tying the flowers together with a loose rubber band at the ends to attach the food packets. He’s fine with working in silence now that she's not crying anymore. He throws occasional glances in her direction, and catches her watching his hands while fiddling with her own. Her brows were furrowed and her mouth was twitching. 

“Will you text me?” She asked him. 

He’s careful not to bruise any of the petals as he sets them down again, pausing with his ministrations to pick up his phone. He wiggles his eyebrows at her and types a quick ‘Hi. It’s Harry :)’. He hits send, “until you’re sick of me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” She shakes her head, and Harry’s reminded Rachel McAdams in The Notebook while she’s in complete denial of her feelings for Noah. The comparison makes his heart flutter, considering the romance of the onscreen couple. “How much do I owe you?” 

Harry waves her off, “it’s on the house.” She begins to argue, but Harry stops her before she starts rambling again, “y’better go or you’ll be late, love.” He holds out the arrangement to her, tufts of baby’s breath poking out from between the vibrant dahlias like fluffy clouds, the feverfew looking like miniature white daisies in the center. 

She looks at it, and back at him before huffing, “fine, but you’ll have to let me return the favor.”

“Of course,” he smirks, “with dinner, maybe?” 

They’re both gleaming at each other now, “okay.” Y/n takes a step back, her body half twisted as she walks away, but it remains like that for a moment as her eyes rake him up and down, a murmur following, “bye, Harry.” 

His veins charge with electricity, and his dark taffy lips part at her actions. Had she just checked him out? He doesn’t recover quick enough to return her goodbye because the previous swirl of arousal in his navel was bristling back to life at the implications of that look. Calm, slow, steady, and her eyes remained doe-like and innocent. 

She had to have known exactly what she was doing, whispering his name the way she had, looking over her shoulder and under her eyelashes the way she did. Deviously provoking his thoughts to begin a new with a reinspired fervor. The space in his underwear was growing tighter by the second, a blissful ache swelling. 

Before any other customer stepped in after her, Harry locked the door, and jogged up the stairs to prepare himself a nice, hot bath, simultaneously cursing and thanking the stupid fucking delivery men.  

********

Harry can’t stop thinking. 

Obviously, this is a huge issue for him. He was constantly thinking, and well, who wasn’t? The process of thoughts wisping around in his brain was one that he often put an unnecessary amount of energy into because he had no one to filter these thoughts onto, releasing them through a conversation to prevent the exhaustion of his brain and heart. A prime example of these mishaps being the depressing slump that occupied his demeanor that very morning. 

This?

This was different.

As soon as the apartment door was shut behind him, Harry pulled the suffocating sweatshirt off of his upper body, fingers hooking in at the collar and yanking it off with a swift tug. It landed somewhere on his kitchen floor, and he didn’t stop to take note of its final destination. Instead, his legs instinctively took him to his bathroom. 

Chest heaving, Harry walked to the small window leaking sunlight and rolled the stick between his fingers to close the blinds. His thumb dipped into the waistband of his boxes and dragged them down lopsidedly, the tiger tattoo roaring as it became exposed. When the blinds are fully closed, the white extension clangs against the shutters from his aggressive release. His body was slowly being consumed by a raging fire stoked by the illicit images his brain conjured of the innocent, unsuspecting y/n.

His inner turmoil consisted of guilt for using her image that way and justification from the conspiring rake of her eyes along the upper half of him that was visible behind the counter. He was so fixated by her, that her look alone felt like a tempting caress along his skin. And it all happened in a matter of fucking seconds. That’s how gone he was. That’s how fucking gone he was. Harry guesses that the easy excitement also had to do with the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while (he only ever gets lucky when he goes out to the bars with Mitch or Jeff, and they’d been gone for a significant amount of time) and the strong affinity he had for the girl who bought flowers from him.  

Explanation or not, he had to do something about the problem in his pants. He was painfully hard, and when he shucked his pants off fully, his underwear dragged with the movement and pressed against the tip of his swollen prick. A darkened patch of moisture bloomed where the head was, and he saw stars at the short pressure. He wouldn’t take his pants off just then, though. He liked to stall his pleasure as much as he could so that when he finally did cum, his stomach muscles contracted and his toes remained curled for more than ten seconds. 

He twisted the golden knobs of his tub so that the water would come rushing out at a borderline scalding temperature, and opened the small cabinet above the toilet for a bottle of almond and coconut shea butter bubbles. He uncapped it and bent over the edge of the tip, the cool, porcelain lip touching his crotch and provoking a choked whimper to leave him. Jerking his hips back, he poured the soapy liquid into the spot where the water cascaded, and retracted his hand when the beginning of froth formed along the surface. 

The heady sweet smell permeated the air with the rising levels of bubbles, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. Because he liked to torture himself, he closed his eyes and slowly dragged the hell of his hand over the outline of his cock, a groan ripping though the silence. It’s so painfully good, that he does it one more time, and he jolts forward. He removes his hand, slips his thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers, and lugs the fabric down his hips at an excruciatingly slow pace. The head of his member smearing precum all along as he moves and when he gets caught in the ripples of his boxers the muscles in his thighs flex at the ripple of pleasure that zips into his nerves. 

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. His mind was a spinning vintage reel of slideshow images of y/n. Y/n on bruised knees, her mouth wide open and her own drool on her tits, the tip of his cock flat on her tongue as she pleads with weepy eyes for him to cum down her throat. When he finally springs free of his underwear, a hefty slap rings out as his dick collides against his abdomen, right on the space underneath his belly button. 

There’s a stripe of liquid on the trail left by the mushroom head of his prick, and Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head, throat straining as he hovers over the bathtub. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been this hard over a girl before, and it’s driving him crazy. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to last as long as he usually does. As he swings a leg over the edge of the tub, the hot water encasing his calf, he’s thinking about how soft she is. The inside of her wrist and the palm of her hand. If she’s that soft on an external part of her body that’s used everyday, he can only wither away at the idea of what the inside of her thighs feel like. 

Bubbles are swarming up now, swathing his thighs and buttocks as he sinks into the sloshing water. When he’s completely seated and satisfied with the belly-button level of water, he clumsily throws a hand in the direction of the knobs to shut them off, and reclined his head against the curved end of the tub with his eyes shut. 

He hikes up his knees so that they’re resting against the porcelain walls, and mindlessly ruts up into the water at the filthy images he’s picturing, white foam collecting in sparse clouds over the math on his chest. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. It’s as if his body is being transported back to the moment his hips clashed with y/n’s. At the recollection, his mouth drops and his eyebrows pinch in a silent moan. The feel of her flesh underneath his fingertips has him bobbing in the water, and the next ideation has him gripping the base of his cock. 

Vividly, he pictured her on all fours, keening back onto him as her pussy enveloped him in warmth, a warmth that is almost replicated by the temperature of the water, dripping and making a mess of him but what’s turning him on most of all is the easy flushness of their bodies. He had felt the way her bum gave way under his hold, and he imagined the bounce of her flesh as he thrusted into her. 

He moaned a broken call of her name with his eyes still shut, and heard the trickling of water as his fist rolled up his stiff prick, squeezing at the tip so that a few more droplets of precum dribbled out. With his thumb, he rubbed over the red mushroom head and lathered it in slow, leisurely circles, a throb pulsating with the beat of his heart as he returned to flicking his wrist over himself. 

The way that he looked at him and the sound of his name on her lips seared into his memory. Airy and willowy, similar to it resonated in his brain with the fantasy of sinking into her for the first time, stretching her and having her preen and arch with desperate whimpers of his name for more. Harry considered himself to be ‘well-endowed’ and his size was a factor of what sent him careening over the edge as girls mewled over his size after he’d bottomed out. He wanted y/n to mewl under him, both of them falling apart at the seams at the mutual pleasures because if Harry’s this broken over just the thought of her, then he’s sure he’s going to lose himself beyond recognition after he’s buried himself into her velvety walls, slick with her arousal and so fucking warm. 

Just as she had been earlier that day. There had been two layers between them- the fabric of Harry’s pants and her panties- yet, he was still able to feel an immense heat from the apex of her thighs against his cock. He needed more than this. He needed her, not just his hand driving him closer to the edge. 

His jaw clenched as he bit back on a particularly loud moan, for no reason other than he enjoyed self-sabotage from time to time, and the speed of his jerking hand increased. His other hand gripped the side of the tub, and his legs flexed as he began to thrust up into his own fist, a trail of bubbles sticking to the tanned muscles. The cut rectangles of muscles of his abdomen glistened like freshly chopped cubes of apricot with the droplets of water that remained clinging to him. His breath came in labored, strained puffs as the palm of his hand twisted, tightening at the tip and loosening at the base. 

For a moment, he paused and cupped his balls, massaging them as the fantasy in his head continued. His mouth wrapping around y/n’s nipples, her eyes glazed over from previous orgasm that he wanted so badly to give her. She’d whine something soft and quiet to match her personality, ‘please, Harry, please I want more. Need another Harry, please’, and he’d speed up the movement of his hips, driving deep into her and cooing into her ear about, ‘c’mon, darling. Give m’another then. Y’want it so bad, yeah? Give me a’fucking ‘nother’, and she’d release a peircing moan that explodes in his eardrums while arching into him. She’d squeeze impossible tight around him, gushing with her own cum. 

The water in Harry’s tub sloshes around his ankles, and the muscles of his abdomen clench so that he’s closing in on himself, sputtering on an outrageously loud cry that he can’t contain and his hand increases the speed of his filthy ministrations because he’s right on the edge. He’s about to fucking cum and the back of his eyelids burns with the possible variances of y/n’s face in ecstasy provided by him with his nose deep in her cunt, lapping at the sweet honey that spills with every whimper of, ‘please let me cum, Harry. I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please let me cum. 

He tensed violently, his face contorted painfully as white ropes spurt from the tip of his cock over his fist and onto his chest, blending with the white almond foam. His feet are braced against the edge of the tub and his head falls back and his stomach tenses even further, the final leaks of his cum dribbling out. 

With the fuzziness that comes after an orgasm, his body melts back into the water that’s still warm, and his jerks with a pant as he allows his softening prick to sink into the water. The head on his hair is matted in a chocolate smear across his forehead, and his lips are a raging heart of cherry blossoms, parted with arduous gasps of recovery breath. His hands fall into the water at his sides, and with the lapping movement of the liquid against his sensitive member, he ruts into nothing again. 

Reclined with his eyes closed and heartbeat slowing, Harry murmurs a final, “fuck me,” at the extreme sensations that had raked through his body. 

Somewhere in the muffled distance, his phone dings with the notification of a text message, and with a tired noise of resentment, he sits up and reaches for his sweatpants that lay in a messy puddle besides the tub. His fingers drip darkening spots onto the grey material as he rummages for his phone, and then he finally clicks it on...

It’s her name, lighting up his screen, and the text reads: 

y/n <3 : so… dinner? 

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever crushed on a girl this hard before because even though he’s just completely physically spent himself, there’s something stirring in the depths of his tummy just at seeing the heart she put next to her name. 

He couldn’t be happier. 

*    *    *    *    *    *

and here he is!! what do you guys think?? pls pls pls leave your feedback in my askbox! i’d love to hear your thoughts! and if you really really loved it, don’t be afraid to press that reblog button <3333

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Nine

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: not an ending, but a middle.

this chapter was ridiculously difficult to write and edit. it tops out at 7.5k words so… beware

***

Cassian and Nesta make full use of the summer house without his friends there, making love on every other surface just because they’re all alone and they can. Nesta shows a soft spot in particular for having sex in Cassian’s old bed, proving to him that she can be just as sentimental as he is.

Which is how they end up sprawled naked on the living room floor early the next morning, fast asleep in each other’s arms with nothing but a throw blanket to cover them.

Cassian is woken up by the sound of the front door being flung open, followed promptly by a feminine yelp as the intruder catches sight of the tangled couple in the living room. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Cassian whips his head up to find who interrupted his sleep, and his nostrils flare in shock when he sees Mor at the entryway. He carefully but swiftly moves his arm out from under Nesta’s head and replaces it with a nearby pillow before starting to stand up. “What the hell are you doing—”

“Fuck no, I can see your ass—No, now I can see your dick!” Mor squeals in disgust, promptly spinning around and clapping her hands over her eyes like she can burn the image out of her mind.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Cassian whisper-hisses at her, throwing a worried glance at Nesta’s still sleeping form. She doesn’t shift an inch.

Scooping up his flannel sleep pants from the floor, Cassian pulls them on while Mor makes gagging noises with her back to him.

Spying a pair of underwear flung over the arm of a chair, she bends to pick them up with two pinched fingers and turns to face Cassian, who’s now appropriately covered. Heavy judgment wrinkles her nose as she casts a glance to the owner of the panties, then to Cassian. “Granny panties, Cass? Is this what your sex life has been reduced to?”

“Don’t touch Nesta’s underwear.” He stalks over to Mor and snatches them out of her hand, before grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her off into the kitchen.

She shakes him off once they’re out of earshot from Nesta and takes a seat across from him at the wooden breakfast table. She brushes her golden hair over a shoulder and smirks. “Someone’s been having fun on their own while waiting for the rest of the party to arrive.”

“What are you doing here?” Cassian repeats.

Mor waves a languid hand dismissively. “I ended up taking a commercial flight. I wasn’t a fan of being stuck on the same private plane as Az and Elain.”

Cassian blows out a tight breath, wishing he’d at least gotten some warning before his plans for the day were ruined. Plans that included taking Nesta in the lake before breakfast.

“But seriously,” Mor glances over her shoulder in the direction of the living room, “what’s up with the prude panties? I thought you would’ve thawed that ice pussy by n…” She trails off at the look on Cassian’s face, and a glimpse of fear crosses her own face. She forces a nervous laugh and twists her fingers together. “I suddenly remember making a promise a while ago,” she murmurs while staring down at the table.

“It’s a good thing you remember,” Cassian says stoically, “because I was just about to bring it up.”

“I know, I know, no criticizing your girlfriend.” Mor rolls her eyes.

“It’s about a lot more than that,” he grits. “It’s about how you’re only wary of her because you don’t trust me to choose who I give my love to. It’s about how you don’t respect my decision enough to maintain boundaries when you talk about Nesta.”

For once, Mor looks put off her game. “I never meant it like that,” she tries to say.

“That’s what it looks like,” Cassian retorts. “It looks like you’re judging someone you have no right to judge, like you’re trying to protect me from an imaginary threat.”

Mor coughs aloud. “Do I really need a scolding for a girl I see maybe twice a year? I haven’t even thought about Nesta since the New Year’s party.”

“It’s not a scolding,” Cassian says firmly. “It’s an order to be on your best behavior for the duration of this vacation, because the sisters and I went through a lot to get Nesta to come here. There will be no catfights, or backtalk, or rude looks and snide tones until we’ve returned home. The same applies for everyone else once they get here.”

“Or, how about this? I’ll stop making ice pussy jokes if you stop being this…” Mor waves a hand up and down at Cassian’s shirtless figure with a grimace, “unrecognizable creature with the tension of a forty year old single dad.”

Is Cassian tense? Of course he’s fucking tense. The last time he convinced Nesta to go to a family event with him was Christmas Eve, and he’s never letting that mistake be repeated ever again. His glare confirms it.

“Morrigan,” he says lowly with a hint of warning.

“Okay, okay,” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in surrender. “But for the record, I’ve never said anything rude to your girlfriend’s face, and I never plan to.”

Cassian crosses his brown arms across his chest. “No, you’ve only done it to my face.”

Guilt crosses Mor’s features for the quickest second. “Oh.” She bites her bottom lip. “In that case, I’ll pull back from now on.”

He releases a terse breath. “Good.” Now to hammer the message into anyone else who might threaten the quiet solitude he and Nesta have found here.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she adds somewhat apologetically. “You know I just want the best for you.”

“And you know I already know what’s best for me.”

Mor dips her head in reluctant acknowledgment. “Can we go back to normal, then? I don’t like feeling like your adversary.”

Cassian’s shoulders slump in relief, and his crossed arms fall away. “Of course, Mor.”

Like flipping a switch, Mor claps her hands together. “Good. I left my luggage in the rental car and it’s super heavy; I brought enough clothes for three outfit changes a day. Why don’t you put those big strong muscles to work while I get settled into my room?”

Before Cassian can object, she’s out of her seat and flouncing out of the kitchen. From the entry hall, Cassian can hear Mor say perkily, “Good morning, Nesta! Love the undies.”

Cassian drops his head onto the table with a thud, lifts it, then drops it again. Mor is going to be a work in progress.

“You okay?” A voice makes Cassian look up from the wooden table. Nesta stands in the kitchen entryway wearing nothing but Cassian’s shirt, and her hair is a rumpled mess from sleep. Her hands twisting into the hem of his tee tells him she couldn’t be less excited about Mor’s early arrival, though the rest of her doesn’t show it.

Exhausted apprehensiveness drops in Cassian’s gut. “How much of that did you hear?” he asks warily.

“Not much. I just woke up a minute ago and heard your voices.” She comes over to him and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulder. “Why, were you guys arguing?”

Cassian slings his arm around Nesta’s waist, basking in her warmth. “Not exactly.”

She frowns. “Was it about me?”

“It was about Mor.”

She nudges him. “Will you tell me about it?”

“No,” he quips, yanking her down onto his lap. He pecks a kiss onto her lips. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Nesta hums to herself. “So our morning plans are out the window?” she asks, raising a brow.

“Yup.”

“Does Mor actually like my undies?”

“Nope.”

***

The rest of Cassian’s friends and Nesta’s family arrive by late afternoon, piling out of a dark SUV in a frenzy of noise and colors. Nesta forgot how… many of them there were.

She lets Cassian and Mor handle the greetings, choosing to observe everyone from her spot near the stairs.

Azriel is the first to catch her eyes. He looks the same as ever, dressed head to toe in black even in the middle of a heat wave. Elain is an overdressed peacock in comparison to him, not that anyone would be comparing them, because they carefully stand at opposite ends of the entry hall.

He sends a simple nod Nesta’s way, which makes her narrow her eyes. Does he think he can act too cool for her just because they haven’t talked in a while? Idiot.

Feyre notices Nesta next and waves her arms wildly. “Get over here!”

Nesta reluctantly pulls away from the banister and nears their group, offering only a half smile to everyone there before hiding behind her sisters. Cassian cuts a glance her way in solidarity, and it feels like a pillar of reinforcement against her wavering self. She scrambles around for a solid ten seconds for something to say, either to her sisters or to the whole group, and finally comes up with, “What are we having for dinner?”

“That’s still hours away,” Rhysand assures. “Everyone scram and put your shit up first.”

“The girl has a point,” Amren grumbles. “I’m starving.”

“Yeah, Rhys, can we have an early dinner?” Mor whines.

And just like that, Nesta has melted into the background again. Which might be for the best, considering how loud it is right now.

Feeling overwhelmed, Nesta checks on Feyre and Elain to make sure they’re not paying attention to her, and then meets Cassian’s gaze through all the luggage and bodies. Tilting her head toward the back door to let him know that she’s leaving, she silently slips down the hall and out of the house.

Outside in the gardens, the light breeze soothes her heightened senses. It’s hot as shit at this hour, but she’ll take it for the peace and quiet.

Only a few minutes into her getaway, however, Nesta hears the porch door open behind her. Her shoulders stiffen when she hears footsteps that don’t belong to Cassian. There goes her peace and quiet.

Nesta is surprised to find Amren slinking up to her side, her small head appearing at Nesta’s shoulder.

Discomfort crawls through Nesta’s bones at the woman’s unexpected presence. It’s a subtle sense of wrongness, like being in the proximity of a predator but not having enough information to guess how they’ll attack.

“Hiding out from Rhysie’s big bad inner circle?” Amren taunts.

Nesta stiffens. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it needs to be thrown in her face.

“I suppose I can’t blame you,” she goes on. “We can be a scary group.”

“I’m not scared of anybody,” Nesta says, keeping her focus glued to the trees’ cherry blossoms. “I just wanted fresh air.”

“And I’ve wanted to find out what Cassian sees in you ever since he gave me that verbal lashing about being nice to his new girlfriend.” Amren turns to face Nesta fully, closing in. “What kind of pussy grip can a woman have to make Cassian of all men heel?” She hisses in a thoughtful breath through her teeth.

Nesta only shrugs, but her interest is piqued at the idea of Cassian warning Amren away from her. She definitely doesn’t need the protection, and once would have found it offensive, but… she likes the idea of someone standing up for her, being unapologetically on her side even if they have no good reason to do it. The only other times she can remember feeling defended were brief, subtle childhood instances with Feyre and Elain, and that was only because blood instinctively defends blood. It’s different to feel chosen. It makes her chest crack.

When Nesta doesn’t respond, Amren throws out, “Are you on the spectrum or what?”

Nesta again doesn’t reply.

“No one mentioned it, but I assumed as soon as I saw you.”

“It’s rude to make assumptions,” Nesta says, her voice cool as a running river.

Amren barks a laugh that sounds like a whip lashing. “I like you, girl.”

Nesta finally meets Amren’s silver gaze and states, “I don’t like you.” Her tone is blunt, to the point—but if she has to participate in this twisted version of small talk, then she should at least get to be honest.

Amren laughs aloud again, as if that genuinely amuses her. Nesta doesn’t know how amused Amren will be when she realizes that Nesta is serious.

She shrugs to herself, turning back to face the garden. It isn’t her problem, she decides.

***

“Even for you, this is overprotective.” Rhys’s voice comes from behind Cassian, who stands at the sliding glass door at the back of the kitchen that peers out onto the gardens. He’s been watching Amren converse with Nesta for the last seven minutes—or rather, he’s been watching Nesta, inspecting her body language to gauge her discomfort.

It was a struggle not to hold his arm across the back door and block Amren from following after Nesta earlier. Amren had the look of a cat going out to play with a new toy, and Cassian had nearly snarled at her for it until she gave him that expression: the raised brow and sneer that said Really, Cassian? Pathetic.

It made him think of how Nesta would feel if she knew he was trying to physically keep people away from her, and he managed to have enough shame to move aside and let Amren pass with only a warning look.

So far though, it looks like Nesta is handling herself just fine. He should’ve known better than to underestimate her.

When Rhys doesn’t get a response, he comes up to stand at Cassian’s side and get a look through the glass door. “I never thought you’d be applying your passion for security to your damn girlfriend.” Rhys lets out a low whistle.

Without taking his eyes off Nesta and Amren, Cassian tells Rhys, “Protecting her is protecting myself. When she gets hurt, I feel it twofold.” And he really doesn’t want to be hurt on this vacation. Nesta already thinks he’s a crybaby as it is.

Rhys is silent for a long minute, as if he can’t deny that he would feel the same way for his own girlfriend. Eventually he says, “I might finally understand what’s going on in your brain whenever you’re around her.”

Cassian only nods.

Rhysand claps his hand down suddenly on Cassian’s shoulder, breaking the somberness of his confession. “Call them in to help make dinner,” Rhys orders. “I want all hands on deck tonight.”

Cassian looks at his brother with narrowed eyes. “And what will you be doing to help?”

“I’ll be watching the game on the nice TV that I paid for, in the beautiful new living room I also paid for.”

“Bastard.”

***

Nesta and Azriel help prepare dinner in silence. Their quiet acknowledgment of each other is better than any words could be, but it’s all shattered when Mor dumps a serving platter on the counter right next to Azriel.

“Ooh, ricotta-stuffed mushrooms!” She grabs a handful and starts arranging them onto her platter. “Az, how was your mystery weekend away? I haven’t seen you since you got back.”

Azriel shares an unreadable glance with Nesta before sliding his chicken parmesan dish toward her and saying loudly, “Wow, is that football?” He promptly turns around and walks out of the kitchen.

Nesta glares after him in disbelief, but Azriel can’t hear her wordless cries for help because he’s already in the living room.

Left alone at the kitchen counter with Morrigan, Nesta keeps wiping at the wine glasses that have been gathering dust in the cupboards. From the corner of her eye, she can see that Mor’s mouth is tightened into a displeased line.

Not that Nesta isn’t grateful for it, but Mor usually isn’t one to keep her mouth shut. She wonders if something is wrong that she doesn’t know about. “You look constipated,” Nesta tells Mor under her breath. “Anything you want to get out?”

Mor only scoffs in indignation. Then she shakes her head and mutters to herself, “I promised not to say anything.”

Now Nesta is really intrigued. “Promised who?” she prods. “Cassian?”

“Like you don’t know about it.” Mor rolls her dark eyes.

Nesta doesn’t know, though after Amren’s comment earlier she might have a hint. “I would prefer you be honest with me rather than follow Cassian’s orders.”

“That’s funny, so do I.” Mor plucks up a stuffed mushroom and shoves it into her mouth.

Nesta thinks back to how she woke up to Cassian and Mor’s voices lowered in seriousness. After what Nesta overheard on New Year’s Eve, it’s no secret that Morrigan doesn’t care for her, but she suddenly has the urge to have it said to her face. “Well, if you want to stop holding back with me, I won’t tell.”

Morrigan sets down her mushroom platter with a thump, turning to face Nesta like she’s done her a personal wrong. “You know what I know about you, Nesta?” Mor says. “I know that Cassian has changed since he’s gotten with you. I know that he’s more serious whenever he’s around you. I know that you don’t love him as much as he loves you. How can Cassian expect me to trust someone that doesn’t want to be around his own family? How can he expect me to trust you with his heart? Not that I’m allowed to be saying any of this, because I’m supposed to be hiding my feelings about you to stop my best friend from hating me.”

It’s crazy how a year ago those words would have been enough to make Nesta retreat to her room and never come out again. Each statement pricks like a shard of glass against her skin, though none of them are accurate or true.

And yet Nesta finds herself hurting more for Cassian than for herself. She feels her familiar old mask go up around her face and harden there.

“It sounds like your problem is more with Cassian than it is with me,” Nesta says stoically. “Because I won’t be going through any trials to prove myself. I have nothing to prove. I don’t care if you like me or not, if you’re nice to my face or cruel behind my back—but it’s rude to shit over your friend’s life choices like that. He’ll stop trusting you if you keep it up, and it won’t be my fault when it happens,” Nesta finishes. She wordlessly gathers the wine glasses in her hands and abandons a silent Morrigan to go set the table.

Nesta knows the dynamic at dinner is off with her presence there.

For once, Cassian’s priorities lie somewhere other than laughing with his friends. He keeps a protective hand on Nesta’s thigh from the moment they take their seats, and he only removes it when he’s filling her plate with food.

With memories of Christmas dinner hanging over all of them, Cassian looks like a bodyguard prepared for attack— except he’s contributing to a good half of the tension at the table.

“How was the drive here?” Feyre pokes at the two of them in an attempt to break the ice. Nesta glances to Cassian for his response, but his attention is taken by the platter of bread rolls.

Sighing internally, Nesta answers, “Better than yours, that’s for sure.”

Everyone laughs hesitantly. A steaming bread roll then appears on Nesta’s plate, golden and fluffy with a buttery aroma; one glance at the rest of the bread tells her it was the biggest roll in the pile.

Nesta drops her walls enough to give Cassian a small smile and an arm rub of appreciation, and then she reaches straight for the bottle of wine.

She loves Cassian and hates this dinner too much to allow this to go on.

After filling Cassian’s empty glass high with Merlot, Nesta presses it into his free hand with a subtle kiss on his cheek. “Relax a little,” she murmurs into his ear.

It takes ten minutes and two full glasses for her plan to take effect, but relax Cassian does. Like oil slipping through rusted gears, the tension in the room slowly unwinds and natural conversation starts to flow.

“You guys will not believe what I had to walk in on this morning,” Mor announces at one point during the meal.

“Yeah, yeah, Cassian’s ass and dick, we’ve already heard,” Amren says.

Cassian’s glare at Mor is more lighthearted than life-threatening. “This is why I can’t talk to you anymore,” he states, pointing a finger at her. Nesta is so glad for the lack of tension in his shoulders that she doesn’t even care if everyone basically knows about her having sex in the living room.

With Cassian acting more like his normal self, the pressure to make useless small talk is no longer on her. Nesta is content to watch everybody share stories and laughter, but for once she doesn’t feel like an audience member on the outside looking in. Maybe it’s because no matter how much Cassian drinks, his hand stays steady on her leg the whole night, keeping her rooted there with everybody else. He doesn’t let her fade into the background for a second.

“What’s that on your wrist, Az?” Mor’s voice rings from one head of the table. Azriel snatches his hand back in a flash before Mor can reach for it. From his other side, Nesta grabs it smoothly out of the air to take a look at the cause of Mor’s question.

She raises her brow at the sight of three colorful bracelets lining Azriel’s right wrist.

Az tries to pull his hand away, but Nesta’s hold is tight. Even if the signature of the maker wasn’t stamped onto one of the childish bracelets, she would know who had made them with one glance.

“What does it say?” Mor asks her.

“Nothing. Just some beads.” Nesta pulls Azriel’s dark sleeve over the beads that spell out GWYN’S BITCH and gives his arm a little pat. She sincerely hopes Elain is thoroughly over Azriel by now.

“Was that Rainbow Loom I saw? Since when did you wear kiddy bracelets?” Mor snorts at Az.

Nesta’s attention is pulled away from their conversation by a heavy head falling onto her shoulder. “Nestaaa,” Cassian slurs, slumping against her side.

Blushing at the attention he’s drawing to her, Nesta tries to shove a drunk Cassian back upright. “I think we need to get you to bed.”

“Oh really? Promise you’ll tuck me in?” He tries to wink at her, but it comes off as a strained blink.

He looks ridiculous. It isn’t helping the blush on her cheeks, though.

“I promise.” Nesta shoves her finished plate aside and grabs Cassian by the bicep, standing up and attempting to drag him with her. “Come on, I’ll take you right now.”

Mor is quick to get to her feet. “We can take him,” she offers eagerly.

“Who’s we?” Azriel mutters. Nesta hears a hard stomp, and then Az is coughing, jumping out of his seat after Mor. “Yeah, we’ll take him,” he says.

Nesta reluctantly lets Cassian slip out of her grasp as Morrigan and Azriel take one of his arms from either side.

“Wait, but I want Nesta to tuck me in!” Cassian twists around as he’s dragged away, drunkenly finding Nesta’s gaze. He’s pouting.

Affection battles with secondhand embarrassment and wins. “I’ll be right there,” she promises with a wave. As soon as Mor and Azriel accomplish whatever it is they’re trying to accomplish. Her voice flattens into a cold warning when she adds after them, “Be careful with him.”

Daring a quick glance back at the table, Nesta wants to cringe when she meets everyone else’s eyes. Rhysand looks highly amused. Feyre looks disturbed, and Elain looks glum with envy, the love-obsessed bitch. Amren is Amren.

After dinner is over, dishes duty is handed over to Rhysand and Amren goes off to bed complaining about beauty sleep, which leaves Nesta alone with her sisters in the foyer.

She doesn’t quite know how, but she ends up forgetting her promise to Cassian and following the girls out to the front porch for some fresh air instead. The sun has long since set, taking some of the summer heat with it, but the air is still stuffy as the three of them settle down onto hand-painted wooden chairs. Lanterns on the porch are lit up to keep the darkness away, and the lake before them gleams with the reflection of the rising moon.

Feyre is the first to speak, her voice hesitant. “It’s hot out tonight, isn’t it?”

“I’m not doing this,” Elain announces. She stands abruptly from her chair and goes back inside.

Nesta and Feyre stare wide-eyed after the swinging front door, but a minute later Elain returns holding a decanter and three crystal glasses. She sets the glasses down on a side table and starts pouring. “It’s not really Tennessee without a strong whiskey,” she says to no one. “And I’m way too sober right now to handle this vacation.” The third glass gets an extra finger of liquor, and it ends up in Elain’s hand. She passes the other two to Nesta and Feyre before settling back into her seat.

Nesta grimaces at the drink in her hand without even tasting it. She hates most alcohol, but strong alcohol especially. For the sake of her sisters, however, she throws back half the glass without thinking.

Liquid fire scalds her tongue and throat, and she groans aloud. Instant regret.

Elain has no such issues downing her liquor. “Did you know,” she says after swallowing a gulp of whiskey like it’s apple juice, “that our old place is just a mile and a half that way?” She waves with her glass toward the back gardens.

“Is it really that close?” A frown wrinkles Feyre’s brow, like the memory of their old home might taint the perfect life she has now.

“Yes,” Nesta confirms. She doesn’t offer anything else.

Feyre shudders despite the temperature. “I hate even thinking about it. It’s so depressing. Reminds me of Papa.”

Which is also depressing, Nesta thinks to herself.

“It wasn’t depressing for me,” Elain says, chin tilted up in defiance.

That doesn’t surprise Nesta. Even in the depths of their father’s patheticness, he was Elain’s favorite man on earth.

Nesta used to wonder how her papa would have reacted if Elain was the one with crippling endometriosis pain every month instead of her. Would he have ignored her cries like he ignored Nesta’s, or would he have come running to her aid?

It’s not a question that’s worth Nesta’s time and energy, though. Not when the man himself has long been six feet under. Instead she pokes at Elain, “Then why did you hide your background from every guy you met like you were ashamed of it?”

“I was ashamed,” Elain says primly, “but that doesn’t mean I hated all of it. We didn’t all grow up with a ten foot stick up our ass; at least I could appreciate what we had without taking my attitude out on everybody else.”

The whiskey must be working quickly, because Nesta can’t hold back an unseemly snort. “There you go again,” she drawls in a cutting tone, pointing an accusing finger with the hand that holds her glass at Elain. “Dishing out shit when you can’t take it back. At least not without crying.”

Feyre, who was trying to hide her cringe with the rim of her drink, now perks up with eagerness. “She does do that, doesn’t she?” she exclaims. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

Elain’s lips twist into an indignant sneer. “What’s this dynamic now, why’s everyone ganging up on me?”

Nesta mutters, “Because you need to hear it every now and then.” Turning to Feyre, she adds, “God, she can be fucking annoying.”

“Oh, like you’re everyone’s favorite person to be around?” Elain scoffs.

“At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not. That’s called a con artist, Elain. You’re a con artist.”

There’s stunned silence for a tense moment—and it’s broken by full laughter. Elain is chuckling sweetly as she says, “Well, I suppose it’s okay if only you two are the ones who notice it. It can be our little secret.” She presses a finger to her pink lips.

Feyre giggles along at that too, but Nesta remains quiet. Too sober for the current mood, perhaps. “Do you think someone will notice at one point?” she asks Elain. “That the smiles and Southern charm and—the kindness...” She doesn’t know how to feel about that word in relation to Elain. “Do you think someone will notice that that’s not all there is to you?”

Elain’s grinning face freezes quicker than an actress’s. “No one will know,” she answers smoothly, “because I’m not going to be with anyone else for a while.”

At the confused silence filled only by the chirp of cicadas, Elain supplements, “I’m trying out the single life.”

Nesta meets Feyre’s eyes, and it only catalyzes the sound quelling up in her throat. At the same moment, the two sisters burst into cackling laughter. Well, Feyre cackles. Nesta makes a noise that imitates a dying whale.

“I’m serious,” Elain insists, glaring at them. “If Nesta could spend all those years living like a widowed hag, why can’t I? I don’t need men to live.”

Nesta’s laughter sours at the insult, and she turns to Elain with seriousness in her tone. “No one needs anyone else, Elain—but you treat loneliness like a leper from the Middle Ages. Are you even happy for me and Cassian beneath all that jealousy?”

Elain shifts uncomfortably in her chair and mutters, “Of course I’m happy for you two.” And then she adds in a much quieter voice, “Deep, deep down.”

“Is that what was wrong with you on New Year’s?” Feyre asks gently. “You were jealous?”

Nesta raises a brow; she didn’t know this.

“I wasn’t exactly having fun watching you two suck face right after getting dumped by Azriel,” Elain tells Nesta. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you. I just…I’m not used to being the lonely one.” She huffs out a sigh and reaches for the decanter again. “If anyone should be in a happy and healthy relationship right now, it should be me.”

Feyre turns to Nesta and whispers too loudly, “You’re right, she is fucking annoying.”

“Don’t get too friendly; so are you.”

Feyre leans away from Nesta in affront. “I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“You don’t need to do anything for Nesta to think she’s better than us,” Elain chimes in.

The three of them break out into bickering, which soon devolves into hysterical laughter, which then morphs into a comfortable silence—which doesn’t last long until they’re bickering again. They spend the rest of the night going in small circles like that over their whiskey, occasionally taking breaks to talk of more serious things: Elain’s flower shop is finally starting to pick up business, but expenses are still too high. Nesta is worried about Cassian being all alone in Italy by himself, but she’ll never show it to him. Feyre’s work at the children’s art studio is making her seriously consider having kids (“Don’t you dare, you’re way too young,” Nesta threatens).

Each of them reveals that they miss at least one of their shitty parents these days.

Maybe it’s because they’re under the same night sky that they spent their childhoods under, but if Nesta closes her eyes, it’s like she’s seventeen again, letting her sisters stay up and talk her ear off even though it’s a weeknight.

***

The lack of Nesta in Cassian’s bed must stop him from succumbing to deep sleep, because his nap is hazy and doesn’t last more than a half hour. When he blinks awake, the fog of wine from earlier has mostly cleared away and the lamps in his room are lit. Mor sits on the bay window seat and Azriel lounges on a chair nearby, both of them murmuring quietly to each other.

Noticing Cassian’s movement, Az turns away from Mor and drawls, “That was quick.”

Groaning, Cassian rubs at his eyes and sits up straight. His shirt and jeans are flung on the floor, and he can only assume he took them off himself before collapsing into bed.

Holding the thin blanket to his chest, he demands, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh, now he has modesty,” Mor grumbles.

Cassian grabs his wrinkled shirt from the floor and shrugs it on before repeating his question. “What are you doing here, and where’s Nesta?”

“Don’t know,” Az shrugs from his chair. “But Mor wanted us to talk alone, so Nesta probably doesn’t need to be here.”

Growing wary, Cassian straightens up against the headboard. “Talk about what?”

Mor’s words take him by surprise. “I wanted to apologize.” She straightens up in her seat and throws a cautious glance at Azriel. “And I wanted Az with me for moral support.”

Az rolls his eyes to himself, likely considering the task beneath him.

“I didn’t take your words that seriously this morning,” Mor goes on, “but I’m taking them seriously now. Someone made me realize that I’ve been blaming your—girlfriend... for our relationship changing when I’m the one who’s been pushing you away the whole time. While you were falling in love, I wasn’t there for you. I didn’t trust you to find love without my input, and I didn’t respect you when you did.” Tears line her dark eyes, taking Cassian aback. “I’m sorry,” she says weakly. “Please don’t hate me.”

A headache takes root in Cassian’s temples, and he has to shut his eyes against the dull thudding. “I could never hate you, Mor,” he says past the lump in his throat. That was never the problem, though her words have eased some of the pent up frustration in his chest.

Cassian lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s not just you. It’s every single one of us. We’ve known each other so long, we’re so fucking entangled in each other, that even when I’m living by myself up in my cabin I feel like I can’t get away from it.” He stares out the window like he might find some relief there. “That’s why I’m going overseas. To get some space from all of this.” He waves between the three of them and laughs bitterly. “We created this incestuous little circle and now we don’t know how to care about anyone outside of it.”

He catches Az frowning, fingers toying with one of the bracelets on his wrist that Cassian spied earlier.

Mor sniffs away a lingering tear. “What about Nesta, then? Where does she factor in?”

Cassian’s mouth turns down in a distasteful frown. He still doesn’t like that he has to leave without her, but the fact that he doesn’t like it is only more proof that he needs to do it. “I can’t let Nesta be a part of me,” he answers. “I need to be all of me.”

Only once he learns how to do that can he be the friend and lover that the people in his life deserve.

***

Nesta wakes up the next dawn not on a hard chair, but in a soft bed. The smell of Cassian lingers on the sheets wrapped around her, and she blinks blearily as she tries to remember the events of last night.

Feyre fell asleep first. Elain and Nesta were just going to close their eyes for a moment and take a brief rest as well, but the next thing Nesta knew Cassian was helping her take out her contacts and laying her head against a pillow. Now the sun is dawning and she has a pounding headache. She needs at least another ten hours of sleep before she’ll be fit to face the world again.

She looks around for her phone to check the time and spots it plugged into the charger on the bedside table. Despite feeling like she’s been rammed with the flu, the tiniest smile lifts Nesta’s lips at the thought of Cassian carrying her to bed and making sure to charge her phone.

She finds her lockscreen blown up with notifications, all from her shared groupchat with Gwyn and Emerie.

Clicking into her texts, Nesta scrolls back through the hundreds of messages to see what she missed.

Emerie: i can’t believe nesta isn’t here for this.

Emerie: what the hell is she doing

Gwyn: probably hanging out with her best friends the inner circle

Gwyn: or getting railed

Emerie: >:(

A tired laugh escapes Nesta as she reads the texts, and she’s grateful for the reminder that these are her chosen friends. This is her found family, and she’ll be back with them soon.

Scrolling a little further back, Nesta finds the cause of all the commotion.

Emerie: A RACCOON JUST FELL THROUGH MY CEILING IM GONMA DUE &%!@

Emerie: DIE

Followed by multiple pictures of a scarily large raccoon chewing up Emerie’s bed.

Nesta shudders at the images. Reminding herself to message the girls back as soon as she has her head on straight, she puts away the phone and drags herself out of bed.

Her knees wobble a little as she stands upright and slips her glasses on, but her body keeps moving automatically toward the door. It’s not until she’s halfway downstairs that she realizes she’s looking for Cassian.

In the main hall that cuts through the house, Nesta glances between the back door and the front door. Instinct tugs her toward the front door, and as she passes the living room she spies Elain knocked out on the couch.

One of her legs dangle off the edge of the cushion and she still has her shoes on, like she dragged herself up onto the loveseat in the middle of the night and fell straight asleep.

Cassian brought Nesta up to their room sometime during the night, and Rhysand would have done the same for Feyre, but Elain… Elain has no one to carry her to her room, Nesta realizes.

Hating the unusual feeling of pity that blooms inside of her, Nesta goes over and grabs a throw blanket from nearby. She flings it haphazardly over Elain’s body. There, that should do it.

She might take a few seconds to tuck the blanket in a little better, but then she’s out the front door and jogging down the porch steps. Early morning dew beads the grass, and the sun isn’t high enough in the sky yet for the heat to be unbearable.

Like perfect timing, Cassian’s form appears from the lightly wooded running trail that circles the lake. He has his hair tied up and is wearing nothing but workout shorts, and even from this distance Nesta can see the sweat gleaming off his hardened chest.

She forgets about her headache and the bitter aftertaste of alcohol coating her tongue. Her feet speed up on the grass, and then Cassian takes sight of her too. He grins wide and breaks into a run toward her.

When they’re mere feet away from each other, Nesta is the one to halt first and hold out a hand, blocking Cassian’s incoming bear hug. “Don’t you dare.” She eyes his body with a warning look. Nesta will do a lot of things for her boyfriend, but sticking her face into his sweaty pits is not one of them.

Cassian looks her up and down with scrutiny, trying to decide if going in for the hug anyway is worth it. “Fine,” he gives in. He spins on his heel and walks down to the head of the pier, where a standing shower is set up for washing off after swims in the lake.

Twisting the faucet, Cassian stands under the cold burst of water and gives Nesta a look that says, Happy now?

Nesta cautiously goes over to where Cassian stands, but she gets too close—

In a blink, she’s being tugged under the shower stream, held tight to Cassian’s chest.

“Cassian!” Nesta splutters, trying to pull away. Droplets hit her glasses and blur her vision, and she has to shove the glasses up into her hair so she can properly glare at Cassian’s face.

He only laughs deeply and tugs her closer. “Like you don’t smell either. You’ve been in that dress since yesterday.”

Nesta catches her breath under the pouring water, glancing down at her soaked sundress. Right; she probably needs this more than he does.

The water isn’t freezing like she expected, she realizes as she relaxes in Cassian’s arms. It’s actually the perfect temperature, almost soothing after the initial shock to her senses.

Broad hands stroke long lines across her arms, like Cassian is making sure that she isn’t uncomfortable. The action triggers an old memory inside Nesta—or rather, an old familiar feeling. The feeling of Cassian in Nesta’s early days of knowing him, always pushing her out of her comfort zone but never tossing her in the deep end to drown.

“I handled my sisters and your friends pretty well the other night, don’t you think?” she murmurs into his chest.

Cassian looks down at her with pure reverence in his eyes. “I can’t be surprised. You’ve always been like that.”

“Like what?”

“Brave as hell. From the minute you stepped outside of the little circle you’d drawn around your life, you became the bravest person I know.”

“Not true,” Nesta states matter-of-factly. “I can name at least three braver people.”

Cassian pokes her in the ribs, but his smile is good natured. “It’s just an expression, Nes. Take the compliment.”

The shower keeps spraying around them, refracting the sunlight to scatter rainbows across Nesta’s vision. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she tells Cassian earnestly. “I did the bulk of the hard work, but you��you gave me that first push. You taught me I could find safety in others, because you were my first real friend.”

Her words clearly take Cassian by surprise. Maybe it’s because Nesta is so rarely open about her true feelings, so her words have more value when she is. Maybe Cassian just wasn’t expecting to get so much credit, which is why he blinks rapidly now. “And what now?” he tries to tease, emotion tangled in his throat. “You have better friends?”

“Much better,” Nesta plays along, but her gaze carries all her sincerity. She suddenly laughs to herself, remembering: “I was terrible at socializing.”

It’s something she brushes off easily now, but few people will ever know that part of her inability to get close to others stemmed from a debilitating fear of rejection.

“Not to me.” Cassian reaches out to twist the faucet off, leaving the two of them standing soaked in the morning air. “I loved talking to you. I couldn’t stop wanting to talk to you, even if you didn’t feel like talking back.” That was how insistent he’d been on becoming her friend, that he would open up to her even when she was closed off to him.

Nesta watches Cassian tug his hair tie off, a little dazed by how much she feels for him in this moment. She isn’t ready for when he scrubs a hand vigorously through his loose hair, shaking the dripping strands out like a dog.

“Cassian!” Nesta scolds for the second time this morning. She flinches back at the water droplets hitting her eyes, making Cassian laugh when he looks back up at her. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. To make up for the assault, he delicately plucks her glasses off the top of her head and uses the hem of her wet dress to wipe off the lenses as best he can.

He slides the glasses back onto her face and nods, inspecting her. “That’s better.” Then he swoops down to kiss the mole beside her mouth.

Nesta wrinkles her nose in surprise. “What’s that for?”

“It’s a thank you,” he says. “Thank you for your car breaking down in the middle of the woods, and for agreeing to spend the night at my place last September.”

Nesta’s brows raise high in amusement. “Shouldn’t you be thanking Feyre? For calling in that favor with you?”

“One day, I’ll do that too,” he promises.

Nesta bites down on a smile and shakes her head, muttering, “Ridiculous.” Yet she can’t help but wonder: who would she thank?

The universe, probably. Whatever forces made it possible for her to wake up every day in the same bed as Cassian, eating the food he cooks and accepting the unconditional love he offers.

She suddenly shivers under the rising sun, becoming aware of how just uncomfortably her sundress clings to her body. Without Cassian’s words distracting her, everything is damp and cold.

Cassian notices and slips his hand into Nesta’s, already starting to pull her away from the pier and toward the house. “Let’s get you dry,” he says. “I’ll make us pancakes before everyone else wakes up.”

“With chocolate chips?”

“With chocolate chips.”

So hand in hand, the two of them walk back up to Cherrywood House.

***

a/n: IM FREE OF THIS BEAST. that ending was absolutely horrible to write, but i hope it satisfied you anyway. and if didnt, well, that’s what the epilogue is for

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[whet-ones-write]

Baku Birthday 2021

So I’m posting this a /little/ early because I’m just too excited to share this fic! So I joined in with Bakugou’s Birthday Bash hosted by these amazing people!!

@phasmwrites​ @katsukikitten @bakugotrashpanda​ @lady-bakuhoe​ @jodrawssmut​ & @ramen-rambles​ 

And since joining I couldn’t have found a more supporting and helpful group on Discord!! Special thanks to: @hoe-doroki​ for being my beta reader and editor!! Thank you for dealing with my sorry, inconsistant ass and giving me the strength to pull though and just do some of my best writing to date! I haven’t written so much in so long and it was rather nice!! 

And to @notchesandbullets​ for telling me I can do this and be those words of praise when I needed them the most helping me pull though and finish this!

Contains: DragonShifter!Reader x Bakugou. Fantasy Setting,

WC: 3755 - Masterlist to all the works!!

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, oral (Female + M reviecing), Cowgirl, unprotected sex, Cum eating, Premature Ejaluations (if you squint), Age gap? It’s implied Reader is much older than Katsuki. Restraining Katsuki, Pervert Kiri

Looking around his throne, Katsuki couldn’t help but scoff at what came to his mind. He had everything a chief could want, but it still wasn’t enough for the young, barbaric male. Vast and grand was his home. People were happy, going about their day, harvest due and bountiful, the river running steady and clean. 

Though, he was still missing a vital element to his life. Someone to make him happy, to have by his side and call his own. So the only thing he had left to need or want was someone to walk into battle with him, because not just any person would. 

No, they had to have a few key traits to meet his standards. They needed to have a willingness to fight, to want to protect those around him and themselves with everything they had. They had to be able to take flack and a joke but also be serious when the time came. They had to be able to take no shit from anyone and make sure to be willing to put others in their place if they went out of line.

It wasn’t much! Honestly…Or at least he thought so. 

“...ugou, Bakugou!” A voice snapped him from his thoughts as he glanced at his adviser, unhappy over the fact he was interrupted from his thoughts. 

“What is it?” Katsuki questioned as he lazily shifted his attention to the man standing at his right side. 

“As I was saying, there have been some sightings of strangely coloured dragons in the nearby valleys. We do not know if it is one or more or if they’re passing by or staying. Moreover, they have yet to attack the villages, but it would be wise to at least investigate the surrounding areas before anything happens,” his assistant spoke as he looked for what the King was going to do. 

Taking a moment, Katsuki couldn’t help but smile as he got up and began to stretch. “Eijirou, prepare for a flight. It seems there might be someone that needs a reminder of who those valleys belong to.” 

Though to the Bakugou family dragons were revered and seen as good omens, there was a limit. Dragons that fought over territory could be destructive and wipe entire lands from existence, so if there was ever more than one in an area it could prove to be a bad omen instead.

One dragon or one family were seen as protecting the lands, keeping invaders at bay and being loyal by nature. Though another one could offset the balance, should they prove to be hungry or hostile. The valleys in which the Bakugous lived were famous for having the longest standing relationship with the red dragons of the Kirishima clan. They had served one another for generations with the latest duo being that of the Barbarian King Katsuki Bakugou, son of the late Chieftess Mitsuki Bakugou, and the dragon that protected the lands, Eijirou Kirishima, son to late Hikori Kirishima.

Standing at seven feet, the mostly human nodded and saluted as he walked with his friend outside. “Yes, sir.” He beamed happily, seemingly excited by the prospect of seeing another dragon. “Though, what are your instructions, should they prove hostile?” 

“Hostile?” Katsuki mused, placing a hand to his chin as the other morphed into that of a forty-foot-long dragon from the tip of his nose to the very end of his arrow-pointed tail. Once finished, Kirishima leaned down to lower his wing, letting Katsuki get on by walking up the thin bone of the arch of his wing and holding onto his spines, climbing all the way to behind the red horns that adorned his head. “Should the dragon wish to try and stay, we will start through the diplomatic route.” 

That was the thing about Katsuki. For all his bloodlust and anger, he was quite the strategist when it came to monsters several times his size. Having worked with Eijirou for some time, they had built up a bond of trust valuable for when trouble arose. 

“Should that fail, we will have to take things up a notch. I would like to avoid a fight if at all possible.” He sighed as he clung to the horn while the other took off. “The valley is full of fish making their way upstream for the breeding season,” he muttered before groaning and slapping his face as he remembered something, getting even more irritated. 

“It could be a female dragon,” he groaned, looking down to Eijirou. “With breeding season approaching, it could prove very troublesome,” he grumbled as he lay down to keep low as Eijirou took to the sky. 

“Hm,” came a deep rumble from the beast.

A female dragon would be far better than a male should they be able to move it along. It could prove worse in the long run, though, as other males came to try and have their chance, destroying the local landscape fighting over the female. 

“Not going to be influenced? I know you’re a young male.” Katsuki snickered as the dragon grunted and shook slightly in a ‘no’. “Don’t worry, whatever happens we’ll sort it,” he offered quietly as he calmed down to focus on the mission at hand. 

They took to the base of the mountains and looked for any signs of disturbance. With fear running though the nearest village, it was clear to see that the crops were half unattended and in the middle of being harvested. “I’m going to go take a look at the surrounding areas and talk to the locals. You go on up the mountain and scout that out,” the Chief commanded. With a short huff and a nod, Eijirou turned to slowly and carefully make his way up and around the mountains. 

It wasn’t long before Eijirou returned with some news. Meeting in the center of town, the dragon descended slowly and waited for Katsuki to approach before he spoke. “I found a trail of blood from the ground leading up to a cave roughly halfway up the mountain. 

Nodding, Katsuki signaled for Eijirou to lower himself so he could climb onto his back. “Sounds about right. The locals saw a figure flying unsteadily across the sky and into the mountain. There was a loud thump before all went silent. It’s more than likely a dragon. It hasn’t done harm to the villagers yet, though, so a slow, quiet and careful approach is needed.”

Coming to the entrance of the cave, Katsuki hopped off Eijirou, immediately noticing the plants had been recently crushed and a splattering of dried blood was leading into the cave. Looking up to Eijirou, he nodded and quietly led the way in. Eijirou used a small breath to light the torch that Katsuki would have to use to see. 

It didn’t take them long to find the cause of the blood and crushed plants. Lying in front of them was a bronze dragon just as large as Kirishima, if not bigger, bleeding heavily from it’s hind leg, belly and face. 

“Holy shit,” Katsukimuttered as he looked over the sight. He froze as the dragon raised its head. Chuckling, you looked over at Katsuki and Eijirou. “If you have come to kill me, at least make it swift.” 

“Tch, don’t lump me with most humans,” Katsuki stated as he approached you, looking over the wounds. A huffing could be heard as he made his way closer, your muscles tense and beady eyes watching his form, ready to attack should harm come. “I’m a Bakugou. We don’t harm your kind.” 

“You may not harm but you enslave. I feel sorry for the red scaled one over there. Forced to serve you like their ancestors,” you mumbled, laying your head down and closing your eyes to rest. 

Eijirou huffed before he sat down. “I’m not. It’s nice to have lands that we don’t have to fight over and live in harmony with humans,” he protested, watching as Katsuki assessed the wounds. “I am from the Kirishima clan.” He beamed, almost a little too excited to say so. “It’s nice to see another shade of red around here. Normally those of the Shinsou clan are around these areas.” Eijirou started, tilting his head to the side. “So what brings you here?” he mused. 

Which was how you explained your side of the story. It wasn’t uncommon for humans to attack those of draconic race because of the first dragons causing havoc and turmoil for humankind. You were a young dragon who still had not found some land to live in. So, you were aimlessly looking around for somewhere to sleep before you were ambushed by a kingdom that had a bad past with dragons, driving you out. 

“Well,” Katsuki started as he backed off. “If you revert into your human form, we can take you back and give you medical aid. I’m not about to let a creature like you just die pathetically cold and alone in such a depressing state.” 

With that, they watched as your form changed into a bloodstained, corseted, sleeveless dress, wings still visible with a tail barely peeking from beneath your long skirt. Their eyes lingered for a little too long to be completely respectful.  

Getting up from where he lay, Eijirou gently enclosed you in his claws, protecting you, letting Katsuki onto his back before taking off back to the kingdom to give you the aid you needed. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The next thing you knew, you were waking up to some argument going on outside, though you took no heed to it. After all, you would need to at least stay to repay the kindness the human has shown you before taking your leave. 

As the flap to the tent opened, you looked up at the figure that came to inspect you in the cot. “How are you feeling?” The one that entered had torn red wings and a thin arrow-headed tail much like that of the dragon you’d seen earlier. 

“Much better, thanks.” He watched you as you got up to move around.

“Yeah, my mother is a great healer.” The man beamed proudly before his face dropped for a moment in realisation. “Oh, that’s right! I’m Eijirou Kirishima!” He offered a hand for you to shake as he introduced yourself. “I’m Katsuki’s dragon companion. Speaking of which, when you feel up to it, he wants to see you in the throne room. He’s currently occupied with some business, so why not come later tonight before dinner? He wants to talk to you about some things.”

“Ah I see” You nodded in agreement though still clearly wary of him. 

“Yeah, my mom specialises in herbal and magical treatments for dragons. You should be fighting fit by the end of day! So enjoy yourself and have a look around! You’re more than welcome here as long as you don’t kill anyone.” You found yourself chuckling lightly along with him as he waved. “See ya! Rest up well and don’t push yourself too hard!” He beamed as he left. 

As Eijirou left you alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t help but think back to just how trustingly and kindly Katsuki had treated you. Taking your leave from the tent, you looked to the sky to gauge the time of day. Deciding you had at least an hour before the sun would set and you would need to see the Chieftain, you went to see what the town had to offer.

As you walked among the townsfolk, you couldn’t help but notice that dragons and humans walked around one another as if that were a normal thing to do. Had things always been like this? And how had this not spread to other countries? Though be that as it might, you were happy for these people; they seemed to be comfortable and welcoming just like the man who had found you. Perhaps you could stay a little longer than intended… 

Still, once the sun started to set you walked back the way you came only to come across a tent larger than most, assuming that was where Katsuki would be wrapping up the day. 

You slowly opened the flap as some villagers came out, happily discussing the day’s harvest before you heard. “Come on in, dragon!” Katsuki called as he remained seated on his chair smirking to himself. “Feeling better, I see?” he questioned as he sat up straight. Even like this, you could see and feel the power he irradiated. 

“Yes, much, thank you.” Bowing, you smiled before you were told to stand upright. “If there’s anything I can do for you, please just let me know. It’s the least I can do after you saved my life.” 

The moment those words left your mouth, you had a feeling that you were either going to live to regret it or thank him.

“Speaking of which,” he started as he leaned back and patted his lap. “Please, come here,” he commanded. Once you approached, he leaned forward, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger as if inspecting you. Up close, you could just see how deep ruby red his eyes were as well as how sharp his teeth were. For a human, he had a great set of fangs on him. ‘Shame he’s a human; he would have made a great and fierce dragon,’ you couldn’t help but think before he spoke, bringing you back to reality. 

“Yes, you’re perfect,” he muttered, pulling you into his lap forcefully by your waist. “Strong willed, a fighter, and someone I could learn to grow better with,” he stated as he suddenly captured your lips. “You will be my partner,” he stated as his hands wandered low. 

Spluttering and blushing, you thrust your arms at his chiseled chest, putting some distance between the two of you. “B-But how do you know? I could kill you! You barely know me,” you protested, though with his power he forced you to fold your arms, leaning in to whisper. 

“But you owe me your life. Surely this is nothing and if you don’t feel like you’re the one you’re more than welcome to leave,” he purred.

You knew he was right. This young, powerful man knew that dragons didn’t back down on their word, and so serving him would mean repaying the debt? A small price to pay, truly. 

“So why not get on your knees for your Chief and thank me properly?” he offered, leaning back and letting go of you. You watched as the grin on his face was almost ear splitting as you sunk to your knees in front of him. He let his hands wander down his trousers to help you get them off and down to his ankles. 

“That’s it,” he praised, reaching out to gently lay his hand on your head. His eyes watched you with keen interest as you slowly took him into your mouth. He wasn’t completely hard and you shifted to get a better angle and grip him in your hands, though he tried to encourage you with soft words. “That’s it, fuckin’ take it all in,” he muttered as he leaned back, getting more comfortable on his throne. The grasp on your hair got tighter as he started to get impatient and guide your face along his length. “Come on now, no need to be so shy about it.” His teeth showed as he smiled. “You’ve lived longer than I have, surely you have the experience?” he goaded. Which, if you were honest with yourself, was true. You were most likely older than him, and could show him a thing or two while you’re at it. 

Straightening your back a little from the floor you looked over his hardening dick. Licking your lips, you took the head in, using the flexibility to weave in between the head of his cock and the shaft before leaning up and taking it in as much as you could. Tongue flat, running along the thick vein underneath, you slowly bobbed your head back and forth, breathing when you could. It wasn’t long before you felt a tug with the hand that ran through your hair to pull you away from him, leaving you panting, and breathless from working so hard to please him. 

His cheeks flushed a bright pink he chuckled almost as breathlessly as you, having forgotten how to breathe in the moment before letting go of your hair. “What a good girl,” he praised as he shifted back and patted his lap.  “Why not come for a ride?” he questioned as he watched you stand. “I would have taken you back to my room, but I'm feeling impatient. It’s my birthday after all,” he informed, eyes hungrily watching over your form as you stripped naked, and then worked on taking off his trousers completely. 

“Your birthday?” you questioned him as you straddled his lap. “I see. Perhaps this will be enough of a gift then?” you mused lining yourself up, slowly trying to sink yourself down on him.

His head slammed back against the back of his throne as he groaned. You were taking your time, though as you hadn’t prepared yourself. You knew your body could and would stretch, but it was painful to begin with. He was stretching you to your limit, but you licked your hand to reach down to let the saliva coating his dick for an easier entry only then were you able to sit down fully on his lap. 

Taking a good minute or two you both sat, panting, just feeling one another as you got used to the stretch of his cock within you. His hands empassing your hips, he tried to get you to move, but you had other ideas. It was his birthday? That’s just fine, but you would make sure it would be a ride he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. 

You gently grasped his hands and took them off your hips to raise them above his head as you started to roll your hips back and forth. Leaning in close to kiss him and to distract him, you used your tail to wrap his hands above his head. He only just realised when you leaned back.

“W-What the fuck is—shit—the big idea?” he panted as his eyes were glued to your form, which started moving so effortlessly up and down on his dick. 

“It’s your birthday. I want to spoil you, so enjoy the ride.” Chuckling a little darkly, you couldn’t help but use your wings to give you some extra momentum and power into your movements as you rode him. 

He couldn't believe just how lucky he was to have such a beautiful person ride him within an inch of his life. You knew just what to do and how to please him, which, to his embarrassment, had him orgasming not much longer after you started. 

“F-Fuck!” he grunted, unable to couldn’t help it when his hips met yours. Though your gut had only just started to coil with your own orgasm, much to your disappointment. You remained seated on his lap as he came down from his high, letting go of his arms. 

He watched you only to frown. Noticing you hadn’t orgasmed yet he couldn’t help but feel like a teenager all over again. 

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. 

Growling, he forcefully lifted you up from him as he slid to the floor, getting you to sit in his seat. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he brought you to his face and started to lap up not only at his own cum that had started to seep it’s way out from the confines of yourself, but searching for any original taste of your own essence. This surprise had you leaning over with a groan. In all your years, no other man had been so willing about doing this. 

Smirking from the inside of your thighs, he knew from your expression that you were loving it or at the very least surprised by his movements. “What?” he questioned, so close to your cunt that you could feel his breath ghosting it. “Never been eaten out before?” He seemed a little too smug, as if he almost already knew the answer. 

With a shake of your head, he only shifted closer and got more comfortable as he nudged your clit with his nose. “Hmm, good. I'm a man starving for pussy and it’s delicious, so don’t mind me,” he muttered before his gaze lowered. 

Though his dick felt great, this was almost a thousand times better. There was no painful stretch, only a soft muscle, though not deep. The slurping and sucking sounds and sensations were what quickly brought your end. He was more than happy to guide you though your high as you remained hunched over his head, hands which you now realised were in his hair, forcing his face just that much closer. 

Leaning back once you had come back to Earth, you watched him as he wiped his chin and cheeks with the back of his arm. “Thank you for the meal.” He chuckled, giving off a lopsided smile, showing off the pearly whites of his sharp teeth. He stood as he gathered up his trousers as he got dressed. “You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner in my home,” he stated as he turned to you and passed you back your clothes. 

Slowly taking them, you nodded as you got dressed despite the shake in your legs. “Y-Yeah, I think I will,” you confirmed as you slipped back into your clothes. 

“Good choice. I’m not finished with you yet, beautiful.” Leaning in, he kissed your cheek before taking his leave only to find a very flustered Eijirou waiting outside. “Something wrong?” Katsuki questioned with folded arms, knowing exactly what he was doing. 

“N-No!” the dragon protested, though the redness that was spread all the way up to his ears gave him away. 

“Next time, just ask. It’s rude to eavesdrop.” Katsuki laughed as he walked away, going to join the mass for dinner. 

“K-Katsuki! I had to make sure you were safe! After all, she’s a rogue dragon,” Eijirou protested in earnest. Though he wouldn’t admit it, that would be something that Eijirou would very much like to do. 

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, man.”

Rolling his eyes, Katsuki took a seat at the head of the banquet table, waiting for your arrival before the festivities could begin.

[writing-red]

The Onyx Ring | 6

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Chapter six of the Silver Letter series. It’s their sixth year, Draco and the reader are placed in an arranged marriage by their pureblood families, expected to follow through they navigate their feelings for each other amongst the many other social pressures at Hogwarts.

Warnings: 

Word Count: 8.2k

A/N: So, I am middle-eastern and I rarely find the opp. in fics for that to fit, and since I talk about family history in this chapter I wanted to make the reader’s ethnicity open ended. Just keep that in mind when the reader’s family history comes up. Also note that I made some changes here and in chp. 5 to incorporate titles because I can ;)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

You spent Wednesday and Thursday holed up with Draco in his room healing. The wounds on your back pertinent and angry; the pain there to remind you of your sins against the family no matter what you did or what you took. Not only that but you knew the scars he left would last, layered atop the old. In order to gain some privacy, Draco had told Narcissa that you’d broken your leg and that you were just waiting on the potion to do its job, it usually took two to three days, so the lie served its purpose, and Narcissa left you both alone in order to allow you to heal. The entire time you virtually didn’t leave Draco’s bed, he’d go to your room if you wanted a book or a particular sweater, although admittedly, you were using the situation as an excuse to wear Draco’s. Zilsey would bring you both food and magically tend to your wounds so that Draco wouldn’t have to risk getting in trouble for using magic outside of school.

Throughout Thursday, you laid in Draco’s arms as he read your classic muggle books aloud to you, although you were keen on forcing him to read your favourite, Pride and Prejudice. Less because you wanted to read it, which you certainly did, but more because you wanted him to read it.

“‘Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.’

‘Which do you mean?’ and turning round he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: ‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.’” Draco paused after reading the section aloud

“Mmm,” you breathed as you looked up at him. “Why have you stopped?”

“Well, doesn’t he know that Elizabeth can hear him? I mean, that’s quite rude,” Draco huffed, and you giggled despite the pain it caused in your ribs.

“Draco, it is just a story,” you smiled, amused by his investment so early into the novel.

“Yes, but Elizabeth is clearly too good for him,” he said, still frustrated with the fictional Mr. Darcy’s actions.

“Merlin, I wonder how she feels,” you teased him, lightly referring to your own situation.

“I wasn’t ever this mean to you,” he huffed.

“Draco, don’t challenge me on this. As you will indeed lose. Now, unless you want such a lecture, I suggest that you continue reading,” you said playfully.

“Is that all I am to you, an audible library?” Draco asked, mocking pain.

“Yes, dear, that is the only reason why I lie here so that I can use you for that deeply, handsome voice of yours.”

“Fine then,” he said as he returned his gaze to the book. “Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth remained with no very cordial feelings toward him.”

“Draco,” you interrupted, your voice plainly displaying that you were not paying attention.

“Yes?” he asked, looking away from the book again.

“Come here,” you muttered as you propped yourself up on your elbows in an attempt to get closer to his lips.

“Are you trying to distract me from Jane Austen with physical affection?” he asked, sounding as you had truly hurt his feelings.

“Just one?” you asked, “Then I will let my library get back to his very important duties.”

“Fine,” he huffed as he leaned down and caught your lips with his. The kiss was warm and pleasant, and it made you forget about your pain for a moment as you were happy to lose yourself in his soft lips. “Is that what you wanted?” He asked after you both pulled away.

“Precisely,” you said, an entirely satisfied smile gracing your face.

“Good,” he said, smirking, but glad to see you in such good spirits considering you spent most of Wednesday in and out of panic attacks and nightmares. It pained him to see you in such a state, yet it comforted him that he was able to be there for you through it.

You lowered yourself back down and laid your head on Draco’s thigh as he cleared his throat and continued reading. “She told the story, however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.”

The two of you spent the rest of the day reading, Draco pausing anytime he had questions or a vote of confidence for Elizabeth, becoming increasingly excited by Lizzie and Mr. Darcy’s interactions. While you continuously had to remind him that you did not intend on spoiling the book for him. You found it interesting how things had shifted between the two of you since just yesterday; you didn’t know that you’d had it within you to trust him the way that you suddenly did. You were sure that you would hate him till you were on your deathbed, and you had been determined to push away any feelings for him. Somehow you now found yourself laying in his lap, essentially trusting him with your life, your secrets, and your traumas, essentially handing your heart to him on a golden platter. And you were nervous to go back to school, that the petty drama, secrets, sneaking around, and lies would return to your relationship, but you refused to dwell on that for the time being.

Friday morning, while you were still asleep, Draco snuck out of bed to find his mother, he was determined to protect you from your parents, and after what they did to you, he didn’t want them back in his house. Aside from the wedding, he didn’t want them around you at all. He was sure that if he told his mum the truth about what happened, she would feel the same way. Draco dressed and made his way downstairs to the kitchen, where he knew his mother would be. Since his dad has been in Azkaban, she had stopped eating in the dining room instead, taking her breakfasts early in the kitchen.

“Mother,” Draco greeted as he entered the kitchen.

“Draco dear, how is Y/n’s leg?” Narcissa asked, setting down her copy of the Daily Prophet when she noted her son’s entrance.

“That’s what I was hoping to speak with you about,” he said as he leaned against the kitchen island. “Leave us, elf,” he assumed the traits he was raised to bear easily around his mum, and Zilsey quickly skittered out of the kitchen.

“Is something wrong?” She asked.

“Well, she didn’t break her leg mum, Wednesday when Sir Y/l/n pulled her away from lunch, she didn’t trip and break her leg, her father beat her nearly to death, he used the splitting curse on her, she had nearly bled out by the time I found her,” Draco explained. “Now, I don’t want either of them over again except for the wedding, and even then, I don’t want them having any contact or control over her.”

“Draco, it is not our place to interfere in the way William and Layah choose to discipline their children,” Narcissa said, hiding the pain she felt for her future daughter-in-law with complete neutrality.

“Excuse me? You’ve got to be joking! You should see her back; it’s been ripped to shreds by that bastard, she’s got a bloody scar reaching from her eye to the bottom of her face, and no potion or spell has been able to get rid of it,” exclaimed Draco in anger.

“Draco,” Narcissa warned, her voice remaining low and quiet.

“Don’t do that. Just because you can’t stand up for me when father reprimands me doesn’t mean you have to let the same thing happen to her.”

“Draco,” Narcissa repeated, her voice tighter this time, rising from her seat. “If her parents have decided that she has done something that demands scolding, then they will handle that as they see fit. It is not our place to interfere. And you shall not be referring to your future father-in-law with such language.”

Draco pushed the tears that were pooling in the back of his eyes away, he refused to show such weakness in front of his mother. “How could you simply turn a blind eye to this?” He questioned. When he was met with dead silence, he nodded, “I see, mother, I will be retiring to my room then,” he said, turning to leave.

“Before you go,” she said, stopping her son in his tracks although Draco did not turn to face his mother. “I expect you to propose to Y/n using the family ring tomorrow night as is expected in our families traditions, I believe you have the ring?”

Draco simply nodded in confirmation before striding out of the kitchen.

Narcissa remained standing with her head held high, only collapsing into her seat when she was sure that Draco was half-way back to his room. She pushed all thoughts of the torture you endured at the hands of your parents, her friends, out of her head.

When Draco made his way back to his room, he found you out of bed and nowhere to be found, which he thought to be a bit worrisome.

“Y/n?” He called.

“I’m in your closet,” you called, and he let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto his bed.

“It sounds like you’re feeling better,” he commented, although you could hear the distress in his voice.

“I am, it still hurts, but it’s nothing I haven’t felt before,” you said as you stepped out of his closet in a perfectly oversized white knit sweater of his and one of your pairs of jeans. “Although it sounds like you have something going on, does it happen to have anything to do with where you disappeared to this morning?”

“I just had a conversation with my mother,” he said as he dropped his head into his hands.

You sat next to him and put a kind hand on his shoulder, “do you want to talk about it, or do you want to go walk around the gardens?”

“Let’s get outside, the sun is out, and it’d be nice to show you around out there,” he said as he met your eyes and matched your smile, trying his best to put his conversation with his mum out of his head.

“Sounds lovely,” you said as you stood up and reached a hand out to him.

Draco took your hand and stood up, but before he really could think about anything, he pulled you into a tight embrace, only knowing that he wanted to hold you as close as he could.

The hug surprised you at first, taking you off guard, but after a moment, you felt yourself melt into his arms, your two bodies fitting perfectly with one another’s as if you were meant to hold one another. He rested his head on your shoulder and continued to hold you, you could feel his desperation, and you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t be the one to let go. Although eventually, he slowly released you, taking a moment to observe you and take in your beauty.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice now somehow lower.

You simply nodded as he took your arm in his and the two of you made your way downstairs and out onto the platform that led out into Malfoy Manor’s extensive and stunning gardens. Despite the beautiful spectacle displayed before you, again, you were affronted by a cold and unnatural thing. The gardens and mazes were filled with the darkest colours nature could serve, and overlooking them were statues of cruel-looking men whom you often found stalking around in the portraits within the manor, and each of their statues was accompanied by snakes and peacocks.

The two of you silently descended into the gardens, and Draco led you into the towering maze.

“I used to run around through here when I was little. I know it like the back of my hand,” he said as he led you down one of the forks in the maze. “I don’t think anyone else in my family knows it so well.”

“It’s intimidating,” you admitted, to which he responded with a nod. “This whole place is.”

“I think they built it like that on purpose,” he admitted, leading you down another twist in the path. “Apparently, the first Lucius of our family acquired the land, and when Queen Elizabeth I rejected his hand in marriage, he retired from court and focused on the building of the manor.”

“My great-grandfather burned any proof that our family ever fraternized with muggles, although I’m sure they were title obsessed back when they could be. However, I do know that our family didn’t come to England until 1889.”

“Our families certainly are interesting,” he said with a certain level of distaste.

Since your first year, Draco had proudly boasted that his family was better than so many others, something you had always despised about him. Therefore, it amused you to see him refer to his family in any way that didn’t display reverence. You would continue with the topic, but you were sure that the trees could hear you.

Draco continued to lead you through the maze until you found yourself in a peaceful little clearing covered in an assortment of small wildflowers, the clearing resembling a small meadow, and with the clouds gone and the sun shining, you found it to be particularly lovely. In the middle lay a blanket, a basket, and a series of foods and teas laid out.

You looked over at Draco once you registered it, “How in the world did you manage this?” You asked in disbelief of what was before you.

“House-elves are pretty crafty, Y/n,” he said, a proud smirk rising to his face, and you shook your head as you laughed.

He led you over to the blanket, where a floor pillow was situated amongst all of the treats. “Draco, this is too much,” you said as he sat down on his own cushion.

“Impossible,” he said, his smirk returning to his face. “Entirely impossible to be ‘too much’ when it comes to you, darling.”

The two of you broke into the expertly prepared food and tea as you continued talking about whatever came to mind, Draco complimenting you at any opportunity he found, about how the sun made your eyes sparkle, how he loved your laugh, and so on; and with every word he spoke to you, you found yourself falling further in love with him. His voice was a perfect melody you wished would never stop playing, his eyes twinkled when you were around, and he just had you absolutely entranced. And what was even better than watching his perfectly crafted hands pour you tea was watching him finally open up to you. For a while now, you had firmly believed that there was something more to him, that he was hiding his real self from you, and now you finally had proof. You planned on talking about it more when you got back to school as you were both afraid that the walls, the trees, and the paintings were listening in on you, but you were excited to see Draco Malfoy turn into the truly good person you knew existed within him. The person that existed out of his parents control.

As you finished eating, Draco placed all of the dishes into the basket before you, exchanging them for your still unfinished copy of Pride and Prejudice. Excited, you laid down with your head in Draco’s lap, basking in the sunlight, which you hadn’t seen since you left school, as he cracked open the book and begun to read. You only had a few chapters left, and you were quite excited for him to reach the end of the novel.

You listened attentively as he read; as always, you were able to refuse yourself the indulgence of listening to him speak, “Her father had most cruelly mortified her, by what he said of Mr. Darcy’s indifference, and she could do nothing but wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much,” Draco read, turning the page and moving on to the next chapter. You cracked a smile, knowing that he would just adore what was to come.

“‘If you will thank me,’ he replied, ‘let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.’” you were excited by the joy and intention Draco was carrying in his voice, almost as if he had read ahead and practised, but when he skipped ahead a line, you knew something was up, “‘You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.’” Draco read as he delicately placed a silver ring decorated with curving leaves and set with a small amber gem in the centre on the top of your hand, which was resting lazily on Draco’s calf.

In contrast with the warm sun, the cold metal shocked you as you realised that he was using Jane Austen to propose to you. Draco closed the book while keeping his thumb in between the pages as to not lose your place. He looked down at you with a smile that rivalled even the sun.

“My mother is going to make me propose in front of your parents during Christmas dinner,” he admitted as you rose into a sitting position and twisted to face him, immediately making and maintaining eye contact. “I wish we could wait, that we could have more time but, I have fallen too hard for you to allow anyone to force me to propose to you, you don’t deserve it in the least, and this is a moment that our parents shouldn’t be allowed to control.”

You placed the ring between his thumb and forefinger of his right hand and then guided it onto your ring finger on your left hand. “‘Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances.’” You quoted the passage from memory in response to Draco, and as a way to say yes to his proposal. “Thank you, Draco, and I want you to know that if the situation had been different, I still would have said yes.”

Despite his bright smile, a tear slipped from the platinum-haired boy’s eye, startling you. You really hadn’t ever expected to see Draco Malfoy cry, even a solitary tear.

“Draco, dear, what’s wrong?” you asked as you wiped the tear away with your thumb, leaving your hand to rest on his cheek.

“Y/n, you’re being forced to marry someone who could get you killed,” he said, his voice lowering and becoming melancholy.

You sat up and turned to face him, taking his hands in yours, “It’s the opposite, you’re the one saving me from my parents. I don’t know what you mean,” you said, concerned at his sudden change in demeanour.

“He knows, he knows that I love you, and he’ll kill you if I don’t do what he’s asked me to do,” Draco said, his eyes cast down.

“Who, Draco?”

“Voldemort,” Draco whispered, barely audible. “He’s demanded that I kill Dumbledore by the end of the year in order to make up for my father’s mistakes at the ministry,” he admitted. “And if I don’t do it, he’ll kill you.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you processed what Draco told you, all of Harry’s theories finally making sense. Even more so, all of Draco’s nerves and mood swings over the year finally coming to light, why he had been so hesitant to admit his feelings for you, his possessive nature finally making sense.

“Y/n, you’re so good, such a good person,” he said as another tear slid down his cheek. “You are so much braver than I am. You were able to denounce all of this while I let them turn me into one of them.” You felt the pain in his voice resonate in your chest. “While I terrorised you and your friends, and even now as I plan to murder our headmaster, you continue to find a way to show me more kindness and love than I have ever experienced.”

“Draco, I love you, and you’re wrong. You aren’t them,” you whispered as you gestured to the manor. “If you were, you would have left me to bleed under my father’s boot. You wouldn’t have tried to protect me from him,” you said as you placed your hand on his shoulder. “I know that what you’re doing comes not from a place of evil but from necessity and that all will be right in the end because we will find a way to come out on the right side of the war. I promise that as long as we have one another, things will be okay.” You promised with all sincerity. “Now, the sun is setting, and it’s about to get frigid out here. I say we head back up to your room, and I finish reading Pride and Prejudice to you.”

“I thought that was my job,” he said, the smile slowly returning to his face.

“Well, I think that it is fair of me to want to cheer up my fiancé,” you said, matching his smile.

“Admittedly, I’ve wanted to hear your Mr. Darcy interpretation,” he teased.

“I don’t think it’ll be half as good as yours,” you admitted, glancing down at the ring on your finger, which wasn’t a symbol of the life you were losing but the love you were gaining. “Thank you for this, Draco.”

“Anything for you, my darling,” he said as he reached a hand out to you, which he used to pull you up to your feet and into a kiss in which you melted into Draco. His lips were still warm from the sun and so soft on yours. When he pulled away, you sighed from the loss of touch, yet also in satisfaction.

You collected the remnants of the picnic, along with the book, which suddenly held so much more value in your eyes, and you followed Draco out of the maze and back to the Manor. You were so engrossed in your thoughts and in Draco that you completely forgot about the other residents of the mansion. Although, you were swiftly reminded as when you entered through the large, French style, doors you were affronted by a stoic-faced Narcissa occupying the centre of the room, clearly anticipating your return.

“Good evening, Narcissa,” you greeted warmly.

“Good evening,” she returned coldly. “Glad to see that your leg is better,” she said despite the terrible red scar that now obviously occupied your cheek. “Since tomorrow is Christmas, and essentially our final day together, I have the day planned to the minute. Throughout the morning, we shall be finalizing wedding plans, which require both of your thoughts. Then Draco, you will have time to complete your errand before you return to get ready for Christmas dinner with the Y/l/n’s. Sunday, the two of you will pack and prepare for your return to Hogwarts. We start our day at precisely eight.”

“We will see you at the dining table at eight then,” Draco matched her tone, clearly unfazed by his mother’s sudden coldness, which had uniquely caught you by surprise. This was a side of the woman you hadn’t seen yet.

“Good night, Narcissa,” you said, trying to push aside your shock as Draco pulled you out of the entryway and upstairs to his room.

When you made it inside, Draco closed the door behind you and looked you dead in the eyes, “tomorrow, you don’t get a second of alone time with them. No matter what, I’m by your side.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” you smiled grimly, and he sighed in relief. “Now, lay down, dear. We have a book to finish.”

The two of you cuddled up into one another’s side as you finished reading the book aloud. To your satisfaction, just as you finished the book, Draco started prompting you to softly run your hands through his perfect platinum blonde hair, which in the days without styling or care had begun to curl into soft waves. At some point, you fell asleep with the light still on and your precious copy of Pride and Prejudice open on your lap. Yet, you slept that night without a nightmare or a negative thought, your mind and body entirely at peace wrapped up in Draco’s arms.

You awoke to bright morning light flooding into the room, which startled you as you still felt Draco by your side. You slowly drew yourself up and looked over to see Alexis, your wedding planner standing by your bed, assuming it had been her who had opened the curtains.

“Alexis?” You asked groggily, confused by her presence in your fiancé’s room. “Why aren’t you home? It’s Christmas.”

“Lady Malfoy asked me here,” she said. “She also asked me to retrieve you, miss, as well as Master Malfoy.”

You nodded, “we’ll get dressed and be down shortly.”

She responded with a bow of her head, then she swept out of the room, closing the door fast behind her.

“What in the world was that about?” Draco groaned, eyes still closed.

“Your mother sent the bloody wedding planner up here to wake us,” you said, in complete disbelief of Narcissa’s decision to do so.

“Mm-alright,” he said as he sat up, kissing you on the cheek before sliding out of bed.

“I’m going to slip into my room and grab a dress,” you said as you stretched out your arms before standing.

“Alright, darling,” Draco said as he disappeared into his closet to get dressed himself.

The two of you got ready relatively quickly, donning appropriately formal clothing and descended downstairs and into the dining room together, where Narcissa and Alexis were already talking, papers, linen samples, and photographs spread out amongst tea, fruits, and other miscellaneous breakfast items.

“Good morning,” you greeted as a polite way to announce your arrival.

“Oh, good, we’ve been waiting for you two,” Narcissa said, looking up as you entered the dining room. “Sit, we have a lot to get through.” While she wasn’t as cold as she was last night, she wasn’t the same kind motherly woman who had offered you her dress for your wedding.

You and Draco assumed seats next to each other as Narcissa occupied the head of the table and Alexis sat across from you. Immediately, you were bombarded with questions, confirmations that Draco liked the choices you had made last week, ornate changes Narcissa recommended, and series more decisions you had never considered went into wedding planning. Occasionally, you would lean over to Draco and whisper some joke or terrible comment into his ear, and he would have to stifle his laughter which inherently bothered both Alexis and Narcissa as they were suddenly convinced that neither of you was taking this seriously. As afternoon approached Narcissa dismissed Draco, much to your dismay you were left alone with the two women who buckled down on you the second he was gone.

Eventually, Narcissa dismissed you and Alexis, allowing you to go and change and for Alexis to finally make her way home. Although, you were convinced that she didn’t care about that, instead sticking to her oh-so-important schedule. You made your way up to your room, Draco nowhere to be seen, you slipped into your room where you found the black gown your mother had packed for this exact occasion; it even had a note on it that read, ‘wear for Christmas dinner.’ Not in any particular mood to disobey, you donned the dress. While it did not come with a corset, it was quite tight and held your core in as if it were one. After dressing, you sat in front of the vanity to don the face that would get you through the night. Despite the time you took on your hair and makeup, hoping you would waste enough time so Draco would be ready and you wouldn’t have to face whatever was downstairs alone. However, when you made your way down, you found both the entrance hall and the few sitting rooms to be empty, leaving you to admire the decorations that had gone up in the last hour you had been spending getting ready. Classical music was drifting through the first floor, and the decorations which were already there had been accompanied by more lavish ornaments circled throughout the space, which was almost entirely lit by warm candle-light. Had the manor not been another prison for you, you may have some capacity for admiration of its beauty.

“Oh, well, hello there,” you heard the sharp and twisted voice you hadn’t heard since the battle in the Department of Mysteries.

In response, you shot around to see Draco standing next to his Aunt Bellatrix Lestrange as they were standing in the entryway before you. “Lady Lestrange,” you said, bowing your head respectfully.

“Draco, this is the girl?” she asked her nephew as she crept towards you.

“Yes, Aunt Bellatrix, this is her, Y/n Y/l/n,” he spoke formally.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am. I’ve been told that you’re a great witch,” you said, your head still bowed. To say that Lestrange intimidated you was a grand understatement.

“Enough flattery, girl, it will get you nowhere,” she said as she circled you, inspecting you.

“Bella,” Narcissa greeted warmly as she descended the stairs into the hall.

“Cissy,” Bellatrix responded, turning away from you to greet her sister.

You used the opportunity to make your way to Draco’s side, Bellatrix’s appearance at the dinner, both shocking and nerve-racking. Having to deal with your parents was one thing; Bellatrix Lestrange was a whole other beast.

“Watch your mind,” Draco muttered in your ear as he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. “She’s a powerful Occlmens.”

You nodded in response, watching as the sisters greeted each other. “How were your errands?” You asked.

“Fine, we can talk about them later.”

“What are we waiting for?” Bellatrix asked her sister, clearly unaware of the plans for the evening.

“The Y/l/n’s, Y/n’s parents are set to arrive in a matter of moments,” Narcissa said. “Then it will just be the six of us, an intimate affair.”

Perfect timing as always, your parents popped into the room through the grand fireplace, green smoke billowing around their feet.

“Hello, Narcissa, Bellatrix,” your father greeted the two witches. “Happy Christmas.”

“Yes, Happy Christmas, William,” Narcissa greeted, her warmth and kindness suddenly flooding back.

“Bellatrix, oh, I haven’t seen you since the summer. How have you been?” Your mother greeted.

“I have been quite well, Layah,” Bellatrix said, a note of sadism to her voice. “Lovely to see you both.”

“Let us make our way to the sitting room. I know we have quite a bit to discuss,” Narcissa said as she eyed Draco, likely referring to the proposal he was meant to make.

Everyone followed Narcissa into the sitting room, sifting out to where they were meant to sit. You and Draco on a loveseat near the Christmas tree, Bellatrix and Narcissa sitting on armchairs adjacent to one another, and your mother and father on a couch together. As you all situated yourselves flutes of champagne appeared at everyone’s side.

“Now, Narcissa I know you said that we weren’t focusing on gifts,” your father spoke up. “But I was thinking, and since Draco is to be my son-in-law, I thought it would be appropriate for me to give him this.” William rose and crossed over to where the two of you were sitting to hand Draco a long, elegantly wrapped, box.

“Thank you, sir,” Draco said, accepting the box.

“Go ahead and open it,” your father said jovially as he returned to his seat.

Draco split the wrapping along the seam, leaving a black jewellery box, opening it he revealed a silver wizard’s watch, the one your father had given to William for his seventeenth birthday. You swallowed your shock, refusing to show the pain that echoed in your heart on your face. Yet, you weren’t surprised at your father using Draco as a replacement for what he killed.

“Thank you, sir. It’ll be an honour to wear this.”

William beamed, twisting his face into a nasty smile, “I’m glad you think so, boy.”

“How kind of you, William,” Narcissa piped.

“Actually,” you chimed in. “While Draco and I were out last week, I picked this up for you. It’s small, but I thought it’d be nice for you to have them for the wedding.” You made your way across the room to hand Narcissa the impeccably wrapped, tiffany blue box. “And Draco got something for you as well, mother,” you said, then walking to her to hand her the black velvet jewellery box.

“Darling, you didn’t have to do this,” Narcissa smiled kindly as she opened the box.

You returned to your spot next to Draco, taking his hand in yours.

Narcissa pulled out the drop pearl earrings, the smile remaining on her face. “Y/n, this is so sweet, thank you.”

“I’m so glad you like them,” you said, returning her smile.

Layah opened her gift, revealing a fine diamond and emerald decorated bracelet that fit into her jewellery collection well. “Draco, this was quite thoughtful of you,” she said, her lack of gratitude bothering you.

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” he said, nodding his head.

“Well, this is quite boring, isn’t it?” Bellatrix chimed in. “It’s a bit of a drag.”

“Is that because no one got you a gift, ma’am?” you asked sarcastically, quickly taking on the ‘ma’am’ as you noticed the gravity of you using such humour in that room.

Silence fell upon everyone in the room, and you could feel your parents sharp glare fall upon you instructing you that you had made a-

A shrill laugh erupted from Bellatrix’s throat, interrupting the concern that fell upon your shoulders, “Oh, maybe I underestimated you, seems you’re not so boring after all,” she said, then continued to giggle, causing Narcissa and your parents to join in with uncomfortable chuckles and false smiles.

“I’m glad you think so,” Draco said, standing up from his spot next to you. “If no one minds I would like to steal this moment to do something quite important.” Once he received looks or nods of recognition Draco turned to face you, bending down onto one knee, he looked up at you and knowing that only you could see his face he shared a bright, kind smile you had only seen when the two of you had been alone. “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, throughout our years of knowing each other, growing up with one another, attending school together I only ever imagined a life with you. When my mother informed me of our arrangement I was overcome with delight at the prospect of joining hands with another great Wizarding family,” You were not surprised by the loveless and prideful nature of the proposal, this was not for you, it was for your father and for his mother. Draco pulled out a ring, something dark, ornate, and clearly ancient. “Now, it is with great admiration for you and your family that I ask you to be my wife,” he said, looking up at you expectedly.

“It would be my honour to uphold the noble name of Malfoy, and therefore the name of Y/l/n, through becoming your wife,” you said, the acceptance taught to you, forced down your throat, word for word by your mother. While you accepted, Draco slipped the engagement ring onto your bare ring finger, the one he had given you yesterday residing on the opposite hand for the time being. As he did so light, polite applause filled the room.

“The two of you do make a handsome couple,” Narcissa smiled, and you couldn’t tell whether or not the curving of her lips was genuine.

“Absolutely,” your mother hissed. “Draco, we are pleased to be inviting you into the family.”

Accolades for Draco, for you, and for the two of you as a couple continued on until dinner was announced. Dinner itself droned on for hours, and drinks afterwards droned on for hours, you felt as if you were a puddle by the time the evening was over. As usual, you spent most of the night silently observing those around you, although Bellatrix would occasionally drag you into conversation in an attempt to read you. The dinner was like the lunch before and the dinner before that, and every, single, individual, societal event you had attended in your life. You yearned to return to Draco’s room fall into his arms and shed the night, the terrible forced proposal, and the stank of society from your shoulders. Eventually and thankfully you did, both of you quick to wish ‘Happy Christmas’ and ‘Goodnight’ to your parents as well as his mother and aunt. Then, of course, swiftly retreating to Draco’s bedroom. Both of you exhausted trading the confining clothing you wore throughout the evening for sweaters and pyjama pants, then collapsing onto the mattress and into one another’s arms.

The next morning you awoke first to find Draco’s arm draped over your torso, and his face nuzzled into your neck. You smiled, happy to see him so peaceful, and terribly sad that you would have to disturb that peace. You slowly started running your hands through his wavy platinum blonde hair, taking in how handsome he looked as he slept.

“Merlin, it’s Sunday, isn’t it?” Draco asked.

“Yes, darling, it is.”

Draco emitted a pained groan and curled his arms around you to pull you tightly into him, “that means I won’t get to hold you like this ‘till June.”

You giggled at his pain, “I’m sure we will find a way, Draco.”

“You know, this is the worst thing about you being a Gryffindor,” he said with distaste. “If you were a Slytherin we wouldn’t have this issue.”

A pleasant smile rested on your face, “Draco, we wouldn’t have this issue if you were a Gryffindor,” you countered.

“As if, Y/n,” he scoffed, you laughed again, and Draco was sure that your laugh could rival the brightness of the sun. He drew away from only for a second so that he could kiss you and experience that brightness for himself. The kiss lasted for a blissful moment before he pulled away to take you in for just a moment.

“You’re beautiful, Y/n,” he said, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.

You smiled up at him, “you’re too nice, Draco.”

“I am the complete opposite,” he countered and your smile widened.

“Come now, we have to get you packed,” you said, gesturing to his closet.

“Y/n, that sounds miserable,” he lamented.

“Darling, as badly as I want to lay in bed with you all day, I also wish to return to school.”

“Fine,” he said, dramatic as ever. “But only because I love you.”

“Thank you,” you said as you planted a swift kiss on his cheek before rolling out of the bed.

It didn’t take you long to get your things together since you didn’t bring much and because most of your things were staying at the Manor considering you were essentially moving in. When you finished, you helped Draco pack his things up, and you were sure to include some of his sweaters which you had come to love so much. After you were both done, you made your way downstairs where Narcissa was waiting.

You stood in front of the fireplace, excited to finally be leaving the terribly dark home. “Narcissa thank you again for having me. I am truly excited to return for summer,” you lied through your teeth, doing your best to make the statement as believable as possible. At the end of the term, you would go to your home for a day in order to pack up whatever you wanted to bring along with you to your new life. From then on you would reside at Malfoy Manor, at the very least until the end of the war, then it would be expected for you and Draco to live alone until Lucius handed the Manor over to his son. Unless of course, the war turned against Voldemort’s favour.

“Y/n, it was lovely getting to know you. I am incredibly excited for the wedding,” she responded and you smiled. 

“So am I ma’am, and thank you for including me in so much of the planning.”

Narcissa nodded, a tight smile on her lips.

“Well, you two have a good semester, and Draco, please write,” she said as she brushed her son’s shoulder as many mother’s do.

“Of course, mother,” he said before turning to you. “Y/n, would you like to go first?”

You nodded, “thank you again, Narcissa.” And with that, you stepped into the fireplace with floo powder in hand, “Hogwarts!” You shouted clearly, disappearing in a green cloud with Draco not far behind.

To your surprise, you found yourself in Professor McGonagall’s office. You quickly became aware of your surroundings, and dusted the powder off of your jeans before stepping out of her fireplace and onto her carpet. “Hello Professor, I hope you had a happy holiday.”

“Thank you, Miss. Y/l/n, it was nice, quiet without Mr. Potter around to stir the pot,” she said as she looked up, a warm smile on her face.

“Well he is known for that, isn’t he,” you conceded, knowing you were often a part of the trouble.

“Dear, Y/n, your face, what happened?” McGonagall’s face twisting into concern as she noticed the still fresh raised red scar reaching across your face.

“Oh,” you raised a hand to touch the scar, having forgotten to come up with an excuse for the visibly wound. “Just a freak cooking accident, it seems I-I manage just as much trouble when I’m home as when I’m here,” you said, adding a fake laugh to try and convince her that all was fine, although you were sure she could read right through you.

“Y/n, if you need anything,” she said, her eyes falling on the engagement ring on your finger. “Please feel free to speak to me.”

“Thank you, Professor, I’m going to go unpack now,” you said, wanting desperately to get out of the awkward situation.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll see you in class Tuesday.”

You nodded, and swiftly left her office, making your way to the Gryffindor common room in the hopes of finding Harry, Ron, and Hermione, knowing you had a lot to explain. When you got to the common room, you were disappointed to discover that you were the first to arrive. You sufficed yourself to grabbing some food in the Great Hall, figuring if anyone was looking for you that would be an easy place to find you. However, your journey downstairs was swiftly interrupted.

“Y/N!” You heard Harry’s voice, and you turned around, excited to see your friend.

“Bloody hell, Y/n, what happened to your face?” Ron asked as you turned to face them.

“Seriously, Ronald?” Ginny scolded her brother.

“No, it’s fine, it was just my father,” you explained. The three of them knew plenty about your parent’s abuse.

“Merlin, he’s never-” Harry started, but you cut him off.

“I know, I’d really rather not get into it, it’s not like it’s a happy memory.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, scratching the back of his head, unsure of what to say.

“Holy shit! Y/n is that an engagement ring?!” Ginny exclaimed, rushing over to you and grabbing your left hand to examine your ring finger.

“Why don’t we go to the common room and we’ll talk about the holiday there,” you said firmly, uncomfortable having this conversation in the middle of a hallway.

“That's probably a good idea,” Harry said, and the four of you made your way back towards the common room, and for extra precaution, you went up to the boy’s dorm which was empty, and thankfully didn’t smell as it often did since the boys hadn’t had the opportunity to stink it up just yet.

“So, how was Malfoy Manor?” Ginny asked teasingly as you all found places to sit around the room, you and Ginny taking Harry’s bed; mutually refusing to trust Ron’s.

“Well to make a long story short, the scar was caused by my father finding our letters, and according to tradition, Draco had to propose to me with our families present, and with his family ring. So, they had him propose last night,” you explained. “Malfoy Manor is a terrifying place, but I have been before,” you thought, and you knew you couldn’t just say that Draco was assigned by Voldemort to murder Dumbledore which is why he had been acting so weird, but you weren’t sure otherwise how to explain to your friends why Draco acts the way he does, and that he really is a good guy.

“What did Malfoy tell your dad about the letters?” Ron scoffed.

“No, of course, he didn’t,” you bit. “My father just spies on me. Draco is actually the reason my father didn’t end up killing me, and he really isn’t such a bad guy.”

“I’m sorry, but there is no way we are talking about the same guy who terrorised us at dinner and announced to the entire school that you were snogging Harry just a few weeks ago,” Ginny countered, and Harry’s face turned beet red.

“We’re talking about Malfoy, I presume?” Hermione asked as she entered the room.

“Hermione!” you greeted her warmly, excited to see her.

“Hello everyone,” she said as she assumed a seat near you. “So, what did I miss?”

Ginny quickly summarised the conversation thus-far, "And I don’t trust Malfoy in the least,” she said, shooting you an irritated look.

“Well I do, and considering it is my life I have no control over, I think that I get to at least decide whether or not I trust him. Anyways he’s proved himself over the holiday, and that’s all that matters, eh?”

“I still think you’re marrying a Death-Eater,” Harry said, confident in his accusation, which you of course knew was correct.

“And what if I am?” you asked. “Harry I am also the child of Death-Eater’s. Not only that, but my parents made it very clear that if I don’t marry him, I’m dead. And wouldn't you rather, when this war happens you have someone on the inside with your interest at heart? Harry I would rather die fighting for a cause than fighting myself.”

Everyone paused for a moment, it was oftentimes easy to forget the gravity of the situation you were all in, but your words made your friends conscious of everything for a moment.

“You all know where I stand,” you said, your eyes were watering, but your voice was firm. “And I intend on fighting with you; I just won’t be able to do so by your side. I assume you already knew that.”

“We just always hoped it would somehow turn out differently, Y/n,” Hermione said honestly. “But of course we understand.”

“Then you’ll also understand that this is likely my last term at Hogwarts,” you said, your voice lower this time.

“Yes,” Harry said quietly.

“So you’ll understand why I want this conversation to end and why I just want to spend time with my friends?” You asked as a tear dripped down your cheek.

Ginny wrapped you in a hug, Hermione quickly joining in, and you wiped the tear from your face. “We love you,” Ginny muttered, and you squeezed her tightly in response.

“What are you two doing over there?” Hermione chided Ron and Harry, ignoring her own tears. “Get over here and join the bloody hug!”

The boys both shook their heads, trying their best to push back their own emotions and joining the three of you in the hug which was quickly turning into a dog pile.

“Anyways, Draco is on our side,” you breathed.

-

Part 7 - Coming Soon

Tags!

Everything - @sarcasticallywitty15 @fred-love-bot

Silver Letter - @hidejeon​​ @Ravenclawgurl137 @unexpectedly-slytherin @missmercurymoon @herequeerandstressed @lordfxxker@pillowjj@pointlesscoconut @lovelylangdonx @fire-in-her-veinz​ @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @oi-itsemily@lukehemmingslut831 @peachybeannn @lovebynorth@bubblesam06@voidnarnia @bethii1 @arthemis-o-negative@roseyrams@treestarrrrrrrr @streetfighterrichie @dreams-in-blxck​ @psychramt​​ @dracofeltonmalfoy @weasleydream​ @rottenhexrt@daringvixon @thatguppienamedbae @lord-byron

[voiceless-terror]

all those sleep prompts are so killer and such big jon vibes!!! i would love to read anything on "- a character who refuses to share a sleeping space with anyone else, and it’s because he doesn’t want to disturb others/doesn’t want pity/is ashamed of his nightmares" with jon. bonus points if tim is involved and extra bonus points if tim also has experience with insomnia/nightmares, either himself or used to taking care of someone in his life with those issues...

Hey there! Here I am, finally writing the promised Jon/Tim that I should have written ages ago. Feels good to be on this train! I’ve placed this in pre-canon, when Jon and Tim are researchers and have just started dating. Hope you like!

“That was...really nice, Tim. Thank you.”

“Thank you? Jon, we split the check,” Tim throws an arm around his shoulder and it’s heavy and warm in all the right ways. “You know my policy on that. The person who asks you out pays the bill! Ergo, me.”

“I know, I know,” Jon relents under the pressure and burrows into Tim’s side. The wine’s gone to his head, he’s sure of it. Shouldn’t have had those three glasses. But the waiter was so attentive and Tim’s smile was infectious so he couldn’t help but say yes, of course, thank you, to every pour. “I just...I really enjoyed myself, is all.”

“I did too,” Tim’s voice goes to that soft, fond register he’s only just started using with Jon. Before it had been all gregarious charm, winks and nudges that he used interchangeably with friends and acquaintances alike. When Tim first asked him out, Jon thought he was joking; he rolled his eyes and went back to work, ignoring Tim’s look of hurt. Jon was used to practical jokes of this nature- he’s not exactly an attractive prospective partner, and several people have implied he was more trouble than he was worth. But a week later, on their usual coffee run, Tim offered to buy him dinner, his voice serious and shy and utterly unlike him. The look in his eyes was genuine and Jon had to say yes; who could refuse him, in the face of such sincerity?

It’s been a month and they’ve fallen into a sort of routine. Every week is a new spot- Tim’s a bit of a foodie, and he overheard him making a list of places with Sasha. It took up an entire page in his notebook, and Jon wonders if Tim will get sick of him before they finish it.

He stumbles on the sidewalk and Tim catches him with a steady hand on his waist. The cold air should be bracing but it is not; his dizziness increases two times over and it’s a long journey home. Tim knows this, which must lead to his next suggestion.

“You can spend the night at mine,” he says, voice purposefully light. Jon freezes. They hadn’t broached the topic yet, but he thinks Tim has some sort of idea. Rumors abound in research, after all. Tim must notice his nervousness because he stops walking, turning to face Jon with that same unbearable sincerity. 

“Nothing untoward, I promise,” Tim says, and Jon believes him. Tim hasn’t lied to him yet. “I just don’t feel comfortable putting you on the tube, and you’re a long way from home while I’m right around the corner.” Jon still doesn’t respond, so Tim continues. “No pressure, honestly. I could call you a cab, it’s not a big deal-”

“No, that’s-that’s too expensive.” Living in London is hard enough, especially on a researcher’s salary. But to spend the night at Tim’s, as innocent as it may be, fills him with dread. There’s a reason he lives alone. There’s a reason it took him almost a year before he stayed the night at Georgie’s.

Sleep has never been kind to him.

Jon has nightmares. Terrible, horrifying visions of make-believe that leave him screaming and crying and choking on his breath. Georgie had been about ready to call an ambulance the first time she witnessed it, but Jon was able to talk her down.

“These happen every night?” she’d asked, her face a mix of pity and concern. 

“Not every night,” he insisted. It was true. If he stayed up late, working himself to exhaustion, he could usually manage a dreamless sleep of at least five hours. But that came with its own difficulties; crankiness, irritability. It put a strain on most of his relationships. 

Tim, though- Tim is kind and understanding. Beneath the mask of sociability and flirtation lies a serious, determined person. Compassionate, loving, but in a quiet way and with small gestures. He makes lists. He puts in time. He asks Jon what he wants when they go out to eat and he doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes when Jon carries on for too long. 

“We can go to your place,” he whispers. “I-I think I’d like that.” Tim smiles and hooks an arm through his and Jon knows he’s made the right decision. Maybe tonight will be different. Maybe the wine will dull the terror that rules most of his life. The night is dark and Jon’s flat is cold and lonely. 

Tim’s flat, on the other hand, is warm and cozy. It’s neat and organized, but cluttered enough to give it personality and charm. There’s a couch calling his name and he answers it, practically collapsing in the cushions as Tim lets out a little laugh.

“No going to sleep yet,” he instructs and Jon can’t help but let out a groan. The warmth and safety of the spot and the closeness of Tim has suddenly made him comfortably tired, and he’d like to slip off to sleep in this pleasant haze. “Not until you’ve had some food and water. I’ve even got those crusty little granola bars you like so much.”

“They’re not crusty,” he grumbles, his voice stifled by a pillow. But he’s not in a fighting mood and his mind’s currently swimming with the fact that Tim stocked his favorite snack. 

“Very crusty, indeed,” Tim’s nudging him up into a sitting position and forcing water into his hands. “Drink up!”

“You’re very irritating, I hope you know,” Jon says as he leans his head onto Tim’s shoulder. Tim makes for a comfortable pillow. 

“Aw, you love it.” 

Maybe he does.

By the time he’s choked down the last of the bar, his eyes are fluttering and he can’t keep in his yawns. Tim puts a warm hand on his arm and it burns pleasantly as he pulls him up. “Time for bed, I think.”

The words startle Jon out of his haze and he blinks his eyes open, focusing on Tim’s gentle smile. “Er, I think-” he doesn’t want to disappoint the man, but he would rather be as cautious as possible. “I think it would be best if I slept out here.”

“On the couch?” Tim asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Oh- would you rather sleep alone?�� Tim doesn’t seem too miffed about it, just confused, so Jon answers as honestly as he can.

“Yes.” He doesn’t want to, not really. But he needs to.

“Alright,” Tim agrees easily enough. “But you should take the bed, then. The sofa’s comfy but I know you have a bad back-”

“It’s fine for one night,” Jon responds. Forcing Tim to sleep on the sofa in his own flat seems terribly selfish.

“If you’re sure…”

“I am,” Jon assures, trying to convey his affection in a gentle smile. Tim returns it.

“I’ll just get you some sheets, then. Change of clothes, too.”

By the time Jon’s head hits the pillow, comfortably attired in Tim’s old joggers and t-shirt, he’s already half asleep. He thinks Tim’s already left the room but then he feels the warm pressure of a kiss to his forehead.

Perhaps he dreamed that, though.

__________

There’s a thread and it’s pulling Jon forward.

It’s not comfortable. Jon would rather stay here, in the library, surrounded by books and dim lights and knowledge he has control over. But there are whispers in the hallway, and someone’s telling him to go, go, go. 

And go he does. Down stairs, so many stairs, more stairs than the institute ought to have. There is something watching and something pulling; Jon is being split in two and somehow this is worse than actually seeing the spiders and the eyes that have haunted him all these years. This, he feels in his soul. Something is at stake.

There’s a door. This is how it always ends, you see- with a door. And Jon’s fist, small and childish and grubby, raises to knock against the wood. It echoes too many times as Jon tries to step back, get off this porch and out of this nightmare but it is too late, the deed is done and the door is opening and a single, spindly black leg creeps out of the door hello, Mr. Spider-

“Jon!”

There are limbs holding him but it’s not the many-legged creature of his nightmares- they’re familiar and strong even as he thrashes against them but someone is screaming and the sound is haunting and painful-

And it’s him. Jon wrenches his eyes open to find himself safe and sound, held in place by Tim’s arms. His heart continues to stutter and he wheezes- Tim’s got a hand on his back and a soothing murmur going.

“You’ve got to breathe, Jon. Slow.” Tim takes his shaking hand and puts it to his own chest. “Like this. In and out. There you go. Nice and slow.” The words are calm and practiced; Tim’s done this before, with someone else. As his heartbeat resumes a normal rhythm, he wonders who. 

There’s a hand on Jon’s face, gently wiping away tears he wasn’t aware he shed. Tim’s eyes are far-away, sort of, like he’s just going through the motions, slow and loving. “There we are,” he says as he finally meets Jon’s eyes. “Better now?”

“Y-Yes,” he croaks back. His hand is still gripping at Tim’s shirt but he doesn’t let go until the reality of the situation sets in. “Oh God- I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you-”

“Is that why you slept out here?” Tim asks, his voice patient. “Does this happen a lot?”

“M-More than I care to admit.” Jon feels a sudden need to explain himself, to let Tim know he tries to keep it under control as best he can. “I’ve tried everything- tea, therapy, p-pills- it doesn’t work.” A note of frustration creeps into his voice. “Something doesn’t want me to sleep, I guess.”

“Just thought you were a workaholic, to be honest,” Tim pulls him into his side and Jon melts, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Should’ve known better. We work at the Magnus Institute, after all.” The laugh that comes from both of them is bitter. “D’you want to sleep in my bed, maybe? Just- just for company. I’ve been told that helps.”

“I-I don’t want to wake you.” The argument is weak and the both of them know it.

“You already have, love.” The endearment slips out unnoticed by Tim, but Jon hears it. “You’ll wake me either way, but I’d rather you didn’t wake up alone.”

“O-Oh.” There’s a lot of care in those words. Jon doesn’t know what to do with it, except agree. “Yes, I’ll- if, if you don’t mind-”

“Wouldn’t offer if I did.” He wouldn’t, Jon knows. Tim always means what he says when it comes to him.

So they curl up in his bed, an arm slung across Jon’s waist, his back to Tim’s chest. There are no spiders here, not in this bed that smells of dryer sheets and detergent and Tim. He’s almost asleep when the arm around his waist tightens suddenly.

“My brother always said the pressure helped. When he had bad dreams.” Jon opens his eyes.

Tim never mentioned a brother; it never came up in any of their conversations. Tim knows Jon is an only child, that he was brought up by his grandmother and had a lonely childhood. He didn’t realize, in all of their time together, that he knew so little of Tim’s own background, besides his publishing career.

Nobody liked to talk about what brought them to the Magnus Institute. It was like some unspoken rule, some shared trauma that somehow kept them all silent and apart.

“Your brother?” he whispers, turning over to see Tim’s face. Its dark, but he thinks he can see a brightness in Tim’s eyes like unshed tears. 

“Danny.” Tim says the name like he’s asking for forgiveness that Jon can’t give. He sees a tear drip down the man’s face and he reaches for it, just like Tim did before. “He was...he was my little brother. And he was so, so good.” Tim’s voice breaks and something in Jon breaks too. “And something took him from me.” His expression is hard but his hand reaches out to lovingly trace Jon’s face, as if trying to memorize its shape.

“I’m sorry,” Jon knows his apology is not enough, that it will never fill the gap in Tim’s heart. Instead, he finds words spilling from his lips, as if sharing his own pain will help too. “I-I saw someone get taken, once. I didn’t- I didn’t love them, but- but it was because of me.” Tim’s hand is in his hair, tucking a curl behind his ear as his voice wobbles. “It should’ve been me.” 

Tim draws him close and squeezes; Jon buries his face in the crook of his neck and inhales. “I’m glad it wasn’t you, Jon,” Tim whispers as he runs a hand down his back. “I’m glad it wasn’t you.” Jon isn’t Danny and Tim isn’t offering him absolution but it’s fine, for tonight.

Jon doesn’t dream.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494077

[thestyleswritings]

Restoration of Faith

REQUEST: (this may be triggering, so i'd understand if you chose not to write it). first-time consensual sex. Y/N lost her virginity in a sexual assault but has been to therapy. It took her a while to be comfortable with sex, but now she decides she's finally ready to have sex with Harry for the first time. He know what happened wants to make it a positive experience for her so he's super gentle and attentive.

  "I'm... Nervous," she admits, biting her lower lip once again and truly testing his resolve. Her lips were always a key part in his fantasies. Contrary to her words, she rocks herself onto his growing length, making the pair of them shiver.

 "You don't need to be nervous, princess. This is all you. We can do whatever you want and nothing more. The ball is in your court." Harry tells her softly, though now his voice has a gruffness to it that she's only heard early in the morning.

Or

Harry meets a girl who’s been through something awful and falls deeply in love with her.

Warnings: Smut, TW // Mentions of abuse and self-harm

4k+ 

  Therapy had saved her life. She was ready and willing to admit that. After her attack, she stopped texting, calling, going out. She wouldn't make contact with anyone for anything, even her professors had thought she'd dropped off the face of the planet. She wasn't eating, she wasn't sleeping, and she wasn't showering. She also had a very nasty habit of hurting herself, even if only a little bit, just to feel something. The sting of a cut, the scorch of a lighter. It took her somewhere close to 3 months to even get out of her head and call a therapist.

 It had been another 6 months into therapy that she'd met Harry. Before he arrived in her life, she always kept the same routine to feel as if she had more control over her life, never failing to tick every box to the letter on her list of daily activities. It helped her feel like she was really in charge of her life, an exercise her therapist taught her, and consistently praised her for continuing on her own.

 The day she met Harry, everything she had structured in place for herself shifted. It started when she missed the bus she normally took to her weekly appointment, kicking herself for snoozing her alarm one too many times. She typically didn't even take advantage of the function on her phone, only she'd been feeling hazy for a few days prior and figured a moments peace couldn't hurt anyone. With a scowl on her face, she decided she'd just hoof it there and apologise profusely for her tardiness once she arrived.

 Only she never made it that day. One blasted thing after another got in her way, making it nearly impossible to get to her destination. Pavements were closed on one road, traffic being directed in a never-ending stream on another. It was maddening. She could almost feel herself unravelling towards a breakdown when a man spoke to her left, nearly causing her to jump from her skin.

 "Sorry love, was only asking if you knew another way 'round this intersection. I've got an appointment at a quarter til, and it's just about half-past now. I didn't mean to give you such a scare," the man sounded sincere, honest, apologetic. She felt the very corner of her lips raise at the notion. An honest man? Unfathomable.

 "S'alright, I'm just a bit caught up in my mind, innit?" She offered, tone teetering on cheekiness.

 "I must be too, s'why I'm on my way to therapy. Though it seems like every bloody traffic cop in London would rather I didn't make it there." The man scoffed lightheartedly, dramatically rolling his eyes for her amusement.

 "Oh, that's actually where I was headed." She offers, not exactly sure why. She didn't owe him any further explanation of her presence on the street, but here she was, still giving one. It felt nice. She hadn't so much as double taken a man since what had happened to her, but there was something so welcoming about him. So she dared to ask his name, creating an inevitable conversation. She made a note to let her therapist in on this major break in her recovery realisation.

 "'M Harry. You?" He said, glittering eyes gazing into hers.

--

 Another 6 months down the road, she felt her throat close up as her heart sank to her stomach. She and Harry had laid down a sturdy foundation together in the time leading up to then, strong as mountains. They'd quickly become the best of friends, laughing at all the same corny puns and jokes and learning every little quirk that made the other up. She knew things like how he took his coffee, and what kind of jam was his favourite. She knew where he'd grown up, who he was friends with in another life, strange dreams he had, what sort of dumb things he and his sister fought over when they were young. But she also had more intimate knowledge, things like his deepest fears regarding his family, his future, if he'll have a family of his own, his regrets. And he knew those same things about her. She trusted him by showing him what she'd done to herself when she needed to bring herself back to reality. She told him what she was ashamed of, both things she had done and what had been done to her. She spoke openly about how her purity had been snatched from her grasp, although kicking and screaming. She cried to him when she felt small. They had even told the other they were in love.

 That's what scared her half to death. She knew she loved him with the entirety of her soul, but she was afraid, almost petrified, to take her clothes off in front of him. She had a few unwelcomed touch-memories when he'd come up behind her and laid a hand on her hip innocently, or when he'd spontaneously kissed her neck and she nearly lost her mind.

 And he understood that. He couldn't imagine the kinds of trauma buried beneath her skin, the levels of paranoia that were bestowed upon her. From the nights she spent at his flat, he knew she sometimes would even jump in her sleep. It made him upset. Not because she was subconsciously jumping from his touch, but because someone made it that way. He would never forgive himself, even if the thought was beyond irrational, for not meeting her sooner. He wished more than anything to take that pain off her shoulders. To erase the searing memory she was still so harshly burdened with. Of course, he desired her physically, but he would never be able to live with himself if he made her feel pressured or uncomfortable. What kind of monster couldn't wait to be intimate with her? It kept him up some nights, but he'd never tell her that. She felt guilty enough as it was during their waking hours, he couldn't add to her burden by telling her he couldn't sleep sometimes while thinking of the horror she went through, cuddling her to his side deeper as she slept soundlessly.

 So when she went to Harry and sat on his lap, curled up like a kitten, he was a bit taken aback. He loved a cuddle and was one of the snuggliest creatures she had ever had the pleasure of meeting, but they usually only cuddled once they were in bed, where she felt the safest. He didn't dare protest, silently complying and raising a hand to get lost in her hair, petting his fingers against her scalp lightly.

 "What's on your mind, pet?" Harry rasped quietly, voice tired from the full day he'd had at work. She had been home all day, thinking of ways to break the conversation, fibbing and telling him she was skipping the day's class to stay at his flat and complete her essay, bringing her one step closer to her master's degree.

 "Just thinking. I love you, I've just been thinking about you all day." She admits softly, pressing a kiss to his neck just below his ear.  

 He feels a blush run over his cheeks, feels himself inflate with affection and giddiness, much like a puppy getting its belly scratched. He couldn't help the goofy smirk adorning his lips, he just felt too good not to.

 "Yeah, baby? I love you. I'm so crazy about you. You're always on my mind." He tells her, not caring how utterly lovesick he comes across at times.

 She flushes, though it comes with a tingle that travels from the top of her head to the tips of her fingertips and toes. It's almost like she can physically feel his soul in hers and she feels alive. She truly can't help but give his neck another kiss, wetter this time, and joined by several others. He shudders and she feels it, making her blood sing in her veins. She couldn't remember a time where she felt so in love, so safe and so free. She felt like she and Harry could soar the greatest heights together, the pair of them unstoppable when they were together. It was an incredible feeling.

 "What are you after, baby?" He questioned, not wanting her to stop but also wanting to see where her head was at. He didn't want her to make a rash decision if she would end up regretting it later down the line.

 Instead of answering outright, she removes her face from his throat with one last kiss. Her eyes are doe-like and Harry's heart stutters. She'd never looked more radiant or confident than in that moment. Taking her lip between her teeth, she looks down between them to catch his big hand in her smaller ones. The air thickened instantly, the pair of them seemingly holding their breath.

 "Just.. wanna be close to you. Wanna love on you, if you let me," she purrs, causing the hairs on Harry's neck to come to a stand and his tummy to flutter. She can't be implying what I think she is? He thinks to himself. It's not that she's never shown her attraction to him, he just can't believe today could be the day he's finally allowed to touch her. He's thought about it countless times, dreamt of it even, and it nearly brings a tear to his eye that she finally, finally feels comfortable and safe enough to physically show him love.

"Yeah? Show me how you wanna love on me, princess." Harry breathes, light filling his green eyes. He wants her to show him exactly what she wants, willing to go to the ends of the earth for his girl to be whatever she wanted.

 She's back to feeling shy, not really knowing how to initiate this. She knows he'd take the ropes if she were to hand them over, but they both know how important it is that she takes control at this moment. This is her choice.

She looks into his eyes and her breath stalls at the look of love he's sending her. She dives back in, kissing Harry with a fervour he's never felt from her. He can practically taste the lust dripping from her tongue onto his. Gingerly, she presses herself against his lap where he's already sporting a mainly solidly stiff prick. As silly as she feels for it, the presence of it shocks her, ripping a gasp from her puffy lips. The feeling sends her into a frenzy, pulling back with wide eyes and a rapidly rising and falling chest to meet his gaze once more.

 "Mhm, you feel it? 'S for you. Always is," Harry admits with a blush. He's no stranger to dirty talk, but he wants to take precautions with her. He doesn't know how filthy he can be without sending her back into her shell.

 "I'm... Nervous," she admits, biting her lower lip once again and truly testing his resolve. Her lips were always a key part in his fantasies. Contrary to her words, she rocks herself onto his growing length, making the pair of them shiver.

 "You don't need to be nervous, princess. This is all you. We can do whatever you want and nothing more. The ball is in your court." Harry tells her softly, though now his voice has a gruffness to it that she's only heard early in the morning.

 "I want you, in every way. Stayed home to pluck up the courage to do summat about it. And to take a very, very thorough shower that involved a lot of bending and twisting to get everything shaved." She tells him, a raspberry blush appearing beneath the skin of her cheeks. He's in awe again, of his darling girl.

 "Cheeky thing. Lied to me about why you stayed home just so you could strategise how to jump m' bones?" Harry chuckles, grabbing her waist delicately before making the motion to stand.

 "Gonna bring me to bed?" She asks breathlessly, nerves still getting the better of her. But she won't let her fears and self-doubt get in the way of another night she could've spent wrapped up in her love. Not anymore.

 The moment she feels the plush mattress beneath her, she can breathe a bit steadier. Even if they hadn't used the bed for its extra-curricular purpose, it was still a major staple in their relationship. She knew this place, and she felt safe here.

 "Take off your clothes." She instructs simply. If she were to get through to the rewarding bit of this, she had to hurry and get to it already. The build-up was the worst part. His lip curls at the command as he does what she asks. He leaves himself in nothing but his tight black boxer-briefs, kneeling on the bed before advancing. Watching and waiting to see if she would ask him to do something else.

 "Come here, please," she begs of him, reaching an arm out to grasp the back of his neck. He's awfully careful as he crawls up the bed, hovering over her much smaller body, not putting an ounce of pressure on her.

 "I love you. I love you so much. I-I wish you could've actually been my first," she begins, but he stops her.

 "I will be." He assures her, "If you didn't say yes, it wasn't your first, princess. I know I've told y'that. This is what you'll think about when you think about your first. I promise you I won't let any other thought come up." His voice breaks as he cradles her face, finally dropping his body to rest against hers. The kiss he lands to her lips shatters her and mends her at once, feeling the love and healing he put into it.

 "Please, I don't know what I'm doing yet," she mumbles against his lips, grazing her hand along his length. He draws back to look at her once before he's moving down the bed again, placing kisses to her neck and gripping the bottom of her shirt. She can faintly hear him asking to undress her through the blood rushing to her ears and she nods. She may be inexperienced, but she isn't naive. She knows exactly what he's headed down to do, and more than anything, she's excited.

 "Aw, princess, s'this all for me?" Harry coos his rhetorical question softly upon seeing how incredibly aroused she'd become, kissing the softest and squidgiest bit of her thigh; right up top.

 "You know it is," she whimpers, threading her fingers through his thick strands. Before she's even finished her sentence, her panties were pulled from her hips. She ignores the unpleasantly familiar sensation of someone that isn't her taking them off. Harry. It's Harry.

 "God princess, might be down here a while..." Harry breathes, voice drunk. She peers up at him quickly enough to catch the strong drag of his tongue against her slippery lips. The noise she makes would've made him laugh in other circumstances, a squeak, instead he grunts and grinds his hips into the mattress. He might not even make it inside her before he's tapped out.

 The movement of his tongue picks up each time she squeezes the handful of hair in her grasp, which is quite often, and he's loving it. He doesn't think he'll ever get enough of her sweet peach now that he's had his tongue inside her. She can't describe the feeling, she just knows that she would be asking him to replicate his actions often. She tenses up as her clit makes its way into his mouth, hearing the filthy slurps and moans coming from his lips. She could finish just from the sound of him. She thrashes when she feels a finger tease the rim of her opening, subconsciously kicking at Harry's shoulder before he grabs her ankle and kisses it.

 "I's me, princess. S' just me. Let me make you feel good, sweet girl." His voice calms her immensely, shaking her head and focusing back on him. He's so good to her, it feels like karma's personal apology to her.

 "Sorry," she says sheepishly. She knew it would happen, she just hoped she hadn't ruined the mood. As if she ever could.

 No more words are spoken as she feels his finger back at her hole, lips leaving kisses to her lower tummy. He slides it in further than the rim this time, sucking her clit into his mouth to alleviate any discomfort she may have felt. He thrusts his finger in steadily, not too hard but definitely not as soft as he'd been at first. She appreciates him attempting to keep some normalcy.

 "Wait- Oh! Feels good, really good. Wanna feel you now, please-Please!" She nearly surrenders to her pleasure when he adds another finger, curling them right up against her spongy wall.

 "Gonna make you come first, princess." He tells her, not bothering to break away from her clit. The vibrations in combination with his unrelenting fingers send her spiralling over that edge she'd wanted to fall over with him. Her moans are strangled as she reaches her orgasm, the sound bringing Harry to a pile of mush below her, still working her through it.

 "Mmm," she tries to form words as he hovers back over her, but she can't seem to find any. She's overcome with a multitude of emotions that she suddenly can't convey. She feels loved, she feels proud, she feels safe and she feels clean.

 "Can pick this back up tomorrow, my love. You seem sedated." He jokes, kissing her lips and leaving behind a lingering taste of herself. She shakes her head, grabbing at his hips and pulling them down to her own.

 "Want it now," she breathes, kissing his neck where she knows he's the most sensitive. And who is he to argue with that? He's about to stand to get an emergency condom he keeps in his closet before she clears her throat. His attention is back on her immediately, looking for any signs of hesitation.

 "M' on the pill," she mutters shyly and Harry's jaw drops. He gets to have her and she'll be bare? This day could not get any better.

 "God, you're perfect. I love you," he reminds her, peppering kisses to every inch of her face possible before reaching down to take her hands and guide them to his pants. "You do this bit. You've waited long enough," Harry encourages her, slipping both their fingers into the band before letting go of hers.

 When she yanks them down, she's floored. That's what I've been missing? She thinks. It's thick and tall, standing between them with a certain strength and glory. He doesn't miss the look in her eye, but he doesn't call her out on it. He has all the time in the world to tease her about her awe of his cock another day.

  "Sure you want to do this?" Harry checks for the hundredth time. She kisses his nose and nods before taking a deep breath.

 "I'd never regret this. I'd regret if we didn't." She assures him, gripping his torso in one hand as to brace herself. He nods, knowing her word is final.

 He's gentle as he strokes himself and even gentler as he lines his cock up with her delicate little hole. He cannot believe he's about to have sex with the love of his life. He can't believe how lucky he is to be her first. Her real first. The first lover to have her this way, the only man who gets to say she's his.

 The initial push causes a sting to shoot through her lower half, throwing her mind to the last time she'd felt it, but she powers through. It's Harry. It's her lover. The man she trusts with her entire life. She hears his breath hitch instantly, only having pushed the tip and a bit more in. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, indulging in the feel of his girl before opening them to check on her.

 "You okay, beloved?" He asks, voice beyond strained. When she gives him a nod, he pushes more of himself into her until she's hitting his side. His head snaps to the side, expecting a look of fear or pain, but to his utter surprise, he sees a look of pure bliss. He knows he's up against her spot, feeling the rough patch massage his tip. He uses this knowledge to his advantage, bottoming out at this angle, catching the spot the entire time he glides in and sending her into a frenzy of sorts. Her legs instantly locking onto his hips, giving him little leeway to do much else but fuck into her right onto her spot. She clenches around him as he pulls back, almost like she didn't want him to move his hips away from hers for even a moment.

 "Feels, god! Feel so good, angel. My sweet baby, yeah? Feel good for you?" Harry rambles, nipping the skin of her neck to distract himself from blowing his load right then.

 She's a mess, physically unable to stay put for more than one thrust. She never thought she'd be doing this, never thought she'd even make it through the year last year. The fact that it's her Harry just pushing her further and further into space.

 "Mhm, so good. What, what are you doing? S' really nice. Does it always-?" She's a moaning mess as she replies, feeling a particularly solid strike at her beloved spot that she didn't know existed until now. He chuckles at the unintended compliment to his performance.

 "Feel this good? Nah, s' because we're in love," Harry begins, but the feeling was too overwhelming, causing the word 'love' to come out as if he'd been hit in the stomach with a steel baseball bat. As if the spoken emotional intimacy turned him on to a point he couldn't stop himself from coming. He couldn't help it as the feeling travelled from deep in his belly, shooting out all the love he could produce, spilling into his princess.

 "Mm, fuck Harry, I'm about to-" She moans at the feeling of his warmth spreading inside her and he cuts her off with the rapid movement of his nimble fingers down to her clit, still pistoning his hips into her, prick softening but still effective as she came.

 Harry collapsed on top of her, wrapping an arm around her back to press their bodies even closer. He was still inside of her and she could feel the spurts still going as she came down.

 "I'm so sorry... I literally couldn't stop myself from-" Harry begins, but she laughs. Laughs like she hadn't laughed in a year. A genuine laugh that drew tears from her eyes and an ache to form in her belly. His cheeks and ears grew red as she continued to laugh, thinking she was laughing at his premature end.

 "Hey, it happens to a lot of guys! And I got you off again, don't make fun of me," he pouts, beginning to retract his arm from around her before she grabs a hold of it.

 "Not laughing at you, doughnut. I love you so much, and you did get me off again. I'm laughing because I feel, I don't know. Clean." She admits, kissing his temple.

 "After that? Should feel right sticky, I know I do," Harry gests, leaving her a kiss to her own temple before pulling out slowly. She gasps at the hollow feeling, but she has an inkling he may not mind filling her right back up whenever she wanted.

 "You know what I mean." She rolls her eyes, allowing his arms to encompass her.

 "I know, baby. I'm glad you found the strength in yourself to do this. And not just because you let me shag ya." Harry hums, kissing the crown of her head.

 "You're an idiot," she teases. She couldn't be more in love if she tried.

"'M your idiot."

 And yeah, maybe the idiot had a point.

-- 

Thank you for reading! This was a little difficult to write for personal reasons, but I hope this piece was alright! Please share your feedback/thoughts!

[popculturebuffet]

Legend of the Three Cablleros: Nazca Racing and Mexico A-Go-Go

Saludos Amgios and welcome back to The Ride of the Three Caballeros! And we’re almost at the finish line! After this reviews only 4 episodes, 2 reviews and a top 12 list/celebration of this long and fun as hell journey, this one for free to thank kev for paying for all these reviews and because without him this probably woudlnt’ of happened for some time and I thank him for that. Point is we’re so close I can taste it to being finished here so with nothing else to cover, after the cut we’re diving right into adventure.. literally. 

Nazca Racing: 

So we open at the outside of Sheldgoose Manor as while we’re not at the scene of the action YET, the show has kept it’s tendency to have intresting intros as it goes on. Point is Xandra is incredulous about the guys claims of a magic barrier.. for some reason. Seriously Sheldrake is a powerful sorecerer, has a lair, even if they don’t know about that part, why WOULDN’T his place be shielded from you guys? Still she has to test it punchiing it , arrowing it and throwing a rock at it.. and the rock does take out a window prove it even if i’ts vandalism but that wasn’t a crime thousands of years ago and no one saw them so we good. 

Our heroes brainstorm back at the Cabana what to do, ignoring the girls suggestion that since the cabs can’t get through the barrier they can but are ignored because ... I dunno. I seriously dont’ know, they haven’t treated the kids like this before or since. Also if you were wondering why not humphrey, spark of life. Too risky. But this discourse is interupted as there’s a signal in peru. The trap has been sprung and the girls warn it might be since they KNOW the cabs will show up where they are and have time to plan but are brushed off. We also get the start of a thread with Jose as he gives all his money to some kittens who are actually con artists. Turns out that’s WHY he’s poor: he gets money easily but donates it all to bogus charities. You know like Louie’s kids or PETA. It’s a nice character trait, showing despite being a lady’s man and having a bit of an ego.. he’s still a very good guy if very, VERY gullible. Hopefully it comes up againa s this smacks of a flaw brought up and solved in one episode, and while ti’s adressed her it really dosen’t get resolved, but with 5 episodes left after this I HIGHLY doubt it. 

So our heroes are off to the Nasca lines of having gotten there with the help of a shady pilot... instead of you know.. porting there.. but given the Nazca Lines are best seen from air according to wikipedia and best shown off that way, as well as the fact it’s revealed you can enter the realm the creatures represented in the lines inhabit via plunging into it, it does make sense. She could’ve TOLD them all this before going but this is one of her off days. The Nazca Lines are a real life set of geoglypys that look really damn cool, and show up in all sorts of works, the two off the top of my head are Mega Man Starforce 2 where their used as the basis for the villians, and Yu-Gi-Oh! 5ds, where there used for the basis for the earthbound immortals.. also villians, a series of powerful and evil gods, and naturally represented by cards, that bring people back from the dead to serve as their avatars, known as the dark signers. 

As you can see they also look really fucking awesome. Sadly I have not had a deck with them as I haven’t really thought about it and you need a field spell to keep them alive, but still good stuff. Really need to watch that arc in full some day. 

Point is the plane starts to fall apart because the pilot swindled them, or rather Jose, and they have to jump without a parachute as there’s only one. Xandra of course leaps first forgetting her friends don’t have god strength or durability and will just go squish if her logic doesn’t pan out. Panchito naturally leaps without thinking and Jose decides why not and sky captain and the crappy plane he bought for 5 bucks decides to snatch the parachute so Donald’s forced to leap.  It does work though and we do get one of the best parts of the series thus far: our heroes are drawn in chalk which is beautiuflly animated and a really creative idea. Granted the magic chalk thing dosen’t make a LOT of sense given the lines are carved in.. but at the same time we’re talking about three talking birds and a goddess chasing after an overweight one percenter, his talking staff and said talking staff’s son/lover/donkeybatmonkeyrat. Exact accuracy to real life can be waved just a smidge. Point is they find Mono, a monkey and one of the guardians of the lines, who Feldrake apparently trapped, though Xandra is suspcious. NOW, after their already in the trap basically. 

But yeah Mono tells them Feldrake is going after the Nazca Gyroscope, a device at the center of the earth that keeps the earth orbiting the sun. 

Point is our heroes have to stop him though Xandra is again suspcious as Feldrake wants to conquer the world not destroy it....  forgetting the whole lava lizard scheme... just.. seriously what was his plan there. rule over a pile of ashes.. actually given Feldrake’s competence and intellegence so far. that’s probably exactly it. Why is Sheldgoose the one getting called fool a lot again?

So we get another really stellar Musical Number, draw the line as our heroes progress through the Nazca world. Also I forgot to mention but earlier, in a nice bit of setup, we set up both that jose is a talented artist, which comes in handy here, while donald struggles and doubts himself. Can.. .can relate. Say that a lot but REALLY can relate. They end this wonderful song easing on down the road while our villians watcht hem.. instead of you know going ahead up and erasing them as is their plan. 

Meanwhile, the trips sneak into Sheldgooses mansion trying to find some sort of evil scheme or lair or some clue they can use. But instead june, looking for some secret in the money vault, instead is caught by security so a chase insues and our heroines spend the episode barely outrunning the security dogs.. who SHeldgoose apparently raised. 

Don’t.. DON’T want to think about THAT any longer than I have to. Point is they find Feldrake’s hidden lair we saw in the second episode where Sheldgoose found the staff. Not bad stuff, just really not something I need to spend an hour recapping. 

So our heroes continue along encountering Hanzy, another guardian with giant hands who they free from a finger trap.. and her reasoning is both adorable and chucklesome, as Sheldgoose, having a piece of the chalk, drew a finger trap and never having had one in her size she just had to try it. So the party gains another member as they tread carefully past the spider, the final guardian and one who will eat them without a second thought.  With that they reach the gyroscope.. and Mono turns on the cabs revealing Sheldgoose tricked him into thinking they were the bad guys and this is naturally a trap. And that is part of the episodes problem: the tension from “well their walking straight into a trap” is kinda.. nonexistant. OUr heroes ran in blind, and even when suspicious in the liens being on their guard amounts to nothing and we know from last episode this is a trap. It’s one thing to have a plan turn out to be a trap for the heroes or for the villians, as we’ll see later this week, that’s fine.. but either the audience isn't aware or there’s general tension from our heroes not knowing. Here there’s none of that. 

So our heroes are trapped in a cage while Sheldgoose and Feldrake head up top to erase them, as if their drawings on hte line, the way they came in are erased so are they. It’s a good plan.. and the tension is dissipated again as hanzy just casually tosses the cage off, mono apologizes and our heroes use the chalk to draw themselves flying machines, with Donald only having a balloon and a basket. Comedic gold.  Despite once again any dramatic tension this episode evaporating like ..t ears in the rain? I dunno I don’t have a metaphor that works here. Despite this the race is genuinely thrilling with sheldgoose busting out a shark rocket launcher since neither Feldrake nor Xandra’s magic work in the lines. Nice touch by the way. But he runs out of chalk (”You should’ve learned how to conserve space!”) though our villians reach the exit first by unleashing the spider, who Jose tries to smooth talk into not eating them.. and Donald, like me afriad of spiders, iconically shouting “KILL IT, KILL IT WITH FIRE!”

The heels erase Hansy, which is genuinely sad. Our heroes do escape in time though before he can get them and while Feldrake makes a speech in an awesome moment, Xandra just.. ignores it and fills him full of arrows.. well the g rated equilvent about that, I don’t think any of us want to see Wayne Knight bleed buckets. I”m still not over that scene from Jurassic Park where we saw nothing but I imagined it all right.. I.. imagined it *shudders*

So i’m scared for life but our heroes are free and revive hanzy with the chalk and we get a really sweet payoff to Donald’s trouble drawing as his new finger for her is a bit crooked but she loves it. It shows even if your art isn’t as good as other people’s it’s still worth something. A nice message. Feldrake once again berates Sheldgoose who points out the cabs can escape death again and again... giving Feldrake the idea to go talk to death personally. And yeah these teases... while I get this series was made for streaming.. they keep hurting the story slightly like they did here. Though I will give them credit this one.. ends up ratcheting up the tension next time so props. 

Final thoughts on Nazca Racing:  This one was decent. The animation was gorgeous and always the jokes were top notch, and the subplot was a nice opportunity for the triplets to take the stage and have an adventure.. but the plot banks a lot on our heroes walking into a very obvious trap and that just sours things for me. Still it’s not a bad episode like “World Tree Caballeros” or “No Man is an Easter Island” for the reasons stated above. And there was no daisy for an episode so while I badly wanted to find out how she’d react to the events last episode, we also got a break from her being bitchzilla, queen of monsters for an episode.. for an episode. “Sigh”

Mexico-A-Go-Go:

Okay back on form. Our heroes return home to find.. a conspiracy board all around the house. 

Sadly it’s not that but it turns out the girls haven’t slept since the mansion and while Donald objects to their breaking and entering, they soon reveal what htey found: The Sheldgooses have all been linked to eveyr major disaster over the centuries... ever since Feldrake, who we see as a mortal for the first time, holding his OWN book as a counterpart to the heroes. They also uncovered a connection to Clinton coot and the sheldgooses but don’t have time to elaborate before Donald waves them off to check his messages.  Unsurprisingly it’s Daisy who says “In light of recent events” i.e. you know seeing Donald’s friend save her life, dapper abandon her and seeing donald fight an evil sorcerer and wrangle a bear, to give him one more second chance. 

Yeah i’ve spent a good chunk of this series complaining about Daisy.. and given she appears in the final two episodes i’m probably not finished. But this is just.. wow. So now she KNOWS, if not all the details that Donald and his friends are entangled in something big and scary, that involves a lives bear and actual fucking magic, so that his ducking out on her last time was NOT him being irresponsible or going to hang with his pals or something stupid, but probably something pretty important, she’s not fully aware of everything but she’s aware ENOUGH to know Donald really is making something of himself or at least is trying and really didn’t mean to mistreat her.. and she STILL is giving him fucking ultimatums!

I just.. i’m so done with this whole fucking subplot. All of it. Not just Daisy, Donald constnatly having a moan about loosing her and whining about going on missions to save the world instead of keeping this ungrateful, bossy, self esteem shattering, shrill, selfish, gold digging, impossibly high stand’s keeping big gulp full of bitch. 

Donald.. buddy YOU CAN DO BETTER. Xandra’s right there and even if she’s not interested there’s a WHOLE TOWN of rich, eligible ladies. Go woo one of them! it’s hard getting out there, believe me I know, it’s VERY hard and i’ll probably die alone.. but your a good man, you have good friends. Friends who’ve screwed up yes but good friends to wingman and wingwoman for you. Just... leave Daisy behind. It’s not good for your mental health to keep bending over backwards for someone who wants you to be something you’ll NEVER be. Who wants someone sophisticated and with a steady job.. and the latter part’s never going to happen now your a Caballero, and given that’s more important.. good! If she can’t see what you do or won’t take the time to fucking listen... MOVE. ON. I know moving on’s hard but you have to. For your own health. Staying stuck in place over a person just hurts you and them. 

And as for Daisy..  this is easily the worst version of the character. And I went into this FULLY KNOWING this version was bad, FULLY KNOWING she was going to be grating and some of the things she’d pull like Dapper thanks to spoilers. It’s why I held off watching this for so long.. and turns out while it was worth it, the series is quite good, my fears were JUSTIFIED and no amount of reading it could prepare me for how terribly written and horribly damaging this all is.  And I do mean damaging: Kids pick things up from media. And while I should’ve caught on sooner, can’t fully blame a cartoon, I did as a kid and teen get my idea of romance from cartoons and tv and thus got the idea that pining after someone in secret was okay and they’ll come around eventually and starring at them and what not is entirely fine and not creepy. Of course it isn’t, of coure you have to say something, and of course you have to let it go if there with someone else. I know that NOW, and there have been much better geek gets the girl plots. .but it still seriously fucked with my autistic brain’s view on friendships with women, something I still struggle with at times.  And that’s why I take this shit seriously: Because while thankfully I never bought into THAT , shit where “it’s okay if it’s a WOMAN, abusing a MAN”. Men can be abused to. It’s why we had SO SO MANY unfunny stalker characters in the 2000′s, and so many plots like this where the guy is wrong.. because h’es male and his partner being domineering and expecting him to change everything without doing anything for them or treating them as an equal.. is just not okay.  And it speaks to a bigger problem.. out of touch writers who assume because THEIR wives are only with them out of obligation that’s how ALL relatoinships work, when no it’s not get a divorced please god. The Duckverse REALLY doesn’t need this According to Jim, My Wife and Kids, George Lopez, Home Improvement, Cleveland Show, King of Queens, Dinosaurs, Rick and Morty, Glen Martin DDS, etc all bullshit. People break up and Donald deserves better. And I genuinely blame both EP Matt Daner and Tony Anselmo for this. And I have a LOT of respect for both guys, i’ve made that very clear.. but Matt as EP and thus the one in charge fo the overall storyline is clearly the one who thought of this and Tony, who helped write for Donald this series, didn’t either get Tress, whose been doing daisy for two decades and is as knolwedgle for her as he is for donald the same courtsey or chime in given he should know daisy better. Both of these men should know better. Danner wrote for Xiaolin Showdown, that had great female characters for the most part and Tony is a grown ass man whose worked with women and is married as far as I know. Figure it out.  This Daisy thing has EASILY been the worst part of this retrospective as a whole, the worst part of this series and probably the worst thing i’ve seen in a duck property.. and again I saw daisy ACTUALLY HIT DONALD. 

And this is worse. Because instead of one moment of terrible writing and misplaced slapstick that comes off as abuse, it’s just a constnat barage of emotoinal abuse treated as if i’ts DONALD’S fault. Donald did nothing wrong to her and his only crime is obessing of this hellspawned hardian. Fuck this entire plot with a garden rake lined with acid.

Also just a quick note before we speed through Daisy’s screentime to get to the good part of the episode, there’s, at least no yet NO proper reaction to Donald’s new life and it bothers me it bothers me a lot. She learns he has this whole secret life and has no fucking questions just more of the same old bullshit. “SIGH”

So yeah this b-plot: Donald wants to stay for Daisy

And the others drag him along though this time.. Donald comes off as the asshole because he KNOWS they need him, knows he’s useful and knows this is more important but drags his feet anyway for someone who again, has done NOTHING good for him. And even with the girls saying the’ll help and telling him to keep the mirror handy, he still keeps complaning up until the plans reveaeld. 

The plan, which.. May I think, the orange one. I know June is purple, but while May isn’t on board for this, the plan is to have April and June do the totoem pole trench and have donald be the face. So the entire plan is basically this

They have an actually nice date till the ruse is revealed, and while he says “I can explain” which he can.. she PUNCHES the mirrror saying explain this. 

So our heroes need to go to Mexico, Panchito’s homeland and somehow, in a series based on and starring primarily south american characters... one of the two times we visit the region and the only time we visit one of the cabs two home countries. Now the latter part i’m fair on since they were likely saving Brazil for the season 2 that never happened and didn’t want to blow their load just yet. The other part.. not so much. I’m not saying set the entire series there, there’s a lot of world, but most of the locations aside from the world tree are pretty common for globetrotting adventure: Easter Island, Stonehenge, Mt. Rushmore, The Pyramids, the Moon, and coming up Camelot and Shangri La. These aren’t BAD settings mind and are used creatively and probably will be in the two I haven’t seen, and the setups involving king arthur and a yeti spa do sound like they wont’ dispoint, but you had a real opportunity to teach kids, and my grown man self, about South America and ya blew it. 

But we’re in Mexico where after meeting a spooky cloaked guy who says they might not leave alive

So our heroes enter the temple and the other side and find a bunch of chickens who see Panchito, who insisted on the trip due to his luchadores code of always helping the incident, as a god and their chosen champion for the goddess of light as the preistess explains. So we get a montage of Panchito getting pampred while the other cabs get pushed around, ending at a restraunt.  Xandra is naturally suspcious as the locals are being AWFUL vauge about what’s going on here, and this is getting pretty midsomar. Donald is distracted by daisy and Jose is distracted by a beautiful senorita, leaving Xandra to TRY and get panchito to think.. before being distracted herself by a mysterious handsome latino gentleman in black. Though during the dance with thier respective partners, Xandra and Jose both remark that it’s weird.. but are distracted by the sexy long enough for it to be revealed what Panchito’s duty is: as the champion of life.. he has to fight the champion of death. No Prize for guessing who. Though unlike with “Nazca Racing” where the teaser removed all tension since we knew it was a trap, here the teaser last episode helps, as we don’t see Team Feldrake till this moment, and we know something involving death itself.. and finding out panchtio’s representing life just ratchets up tension: we know the bad guys are involved.. but we don’t know how or what they’ll do. 

And the how is simple: A one on one wrasslin match! 

Or lucha match since we Panchito’s a luchador and we’re in mexico. He’s wearing his usual outfit while Sheldgoose is wearing standard wrestling tights.. so a superstar babyface versus a heel comentator... but actually entertaining this time. As you can tell I love wrestling. While i’m more of a casual fan, I watch OSW and some other wrestling youtubes and don’t really watch the product at the moment, I do love and respect the sport and love a good wrestling episode or series of television as a result, so this hits the spot. 

So the match goes on and Panchito has the clear lead as Sheldgoose is playing by college wrestling rules and Panchito is playing by pro wrestling rules. And while you can use standard holds well you gotta mix the two together kurt angle style. Eventually Xandra decides to confront the sexy bird and sexy boy, and finds out, in a twist I didn’t see coming they ARE the god of life and god of death, respectively. While I knew this was a fight to the death, as death explains, a symbolic battle between the two with real stakes to keep ballance, I thought these two were just illusions brought up to keep Xandra and Jose from leaving or digging deeper. Instead they were just doing it on their own and as the god of death shows, they were genuinely intrested. I mean... why not get some while preparing to have your champions do battle. God for you death god, multitasking like that. Same for you goddess of life. Get it girl, you get after it. Jose is a fine man. I’d tap that if I could. Get after it.  So Xandra warns Panchito who finds taking life against his code and Jose again shows his awesomeness by pointing out the obvious: the match is timed, so if they run out the clock it’s a draw. Might lead to something but it’s better than nothing. So Panchito TRIES this, but Sheldgoose has leopold “Throw mommy to daddy” (One of my faviorite gags of the episode), and wacks him with feldrake before the whole thing becomes a brawl. And the god of Death does not take DQ’s or outside intefernce well and instead kills them all for breaking the rules. 

Not kidding. The main cast is DEAD minus Xandra, as Death still wanted to bone her, but she refuses. So now Xandra is left while al lher friends are dead while the god and goddess head off in his caddy to go knock over mailboxes I guess. 

Final Thoughts on Mexico-A-Go-Go:  Outside of .. certain parties, this was a REALLY fun one, with a great wrestling theme, a great mystery and the awesomeness that was the god of death, who was smooth, cool and thoroughly interesting and I wish there was a second season and his and xandra’s dynamic was really interesting. One of the series best, helped by the fact the Daisy bit while thoroughly irritating, was religated to a pretty funny subplot, with May being understandably skeptical of the plan, it somehow working and the sheer redicuonsess. It dosen’t make daisy tolerable, but it makes the episode better. 

[dimensionwriter]

The Colour of my Heart

M! Minotaur x F! Reader

Warning: none

Summary: You are assigned to do a photography project with him, but all you can focus on are his eyes.

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The light cool breeze of Autumn licked your warm face as you walked down the rocky cobblestone path. Birds chirped all around you as many flew through the treetops. Small little critters hide themselves as you slowly walked past their domain. The trees danced with each other as the melody the wind played encourage them.

“Oh, there you are!” a deep gravelly voice exclaimed happily. You turned your head to see a creature sitting in a grass field. It was a minotaur with dark brown fur covering most of its body. On top of it’s head was light brown hair that went all the way to the tip of his pink nose. His choice of clothing for today was a dark red flannel with a pair of black jeans.

“Sorry, Arion, kind of got lost for a second,” you admitted walking over to him. His light pink lips pursed out before laughter spilled out of them. He threw his head back as the laughter seemed to taking over his entire body. His hair flew back and laid flat against his head. He’s so good looking...but as a friend.

“Why didn’t you call me? You know I know my way around these woods,” he said still giggling at you. He turned his face towards you and you were met with a pair of pink eyes. Wait, pink eyes?

“Sorry,” you mumbled still staring at his eyes. You rarely got to see his eyes, but you knew they were a dark brown colour. Was he wearing contacts? “Nature was being too pretty for me to think.”

“Just like you.” You didn’t get a chance to hear him due to how low he mumbled it and a flock of birds deciding to sail out of the trees. They slowly joined in the dance of the trees, but this time taking the air.

“Well, let’s get started on this project,” Arion said grabbing a bag on the ground. It was the same bag that was slung over your left shoulder right now. The two of you were both in photography class and decided to work with each other on this project. Before this, the two of you barely even talk. You honestly thought that he hated you because he was always avoiding you. When you bumped into him, by the time you would look up to apologize, he would be speed walking in the opposite direction. So it was surprising when he came up to you asking to be his partner. You had a theory that it may have been set up, because all his friends in the class grouped up without him and then pushed him over to you. You felt bad that he was forced to be with you when he could get with someone better.

“I was thinking of maybe taking a day time picture of this flower field over there and them taking one at night. And maybe split the pictures in the middle and combine the opposite sides,” he said walking towards you. You had to tilt your head pretty far back to look at him, since he was 8 feet and 9 inches tall. You were ashamed to admit that you knew this information because you overheard him say it while behind you. Luckily, it was loud enough for you to hear.

“Oh, that would look so cool,” you squealed just thinking of it. Maybe if the two of you find a lake, you could do the same thing with it, but make it look like it’s two different worlds opposite of each other.

“Would it?” he faltered turning to you. You looked at him to see his eyes were a dull grey. You swear they were just pink a minute ago. What is going on with him?

“Of course. I’ve seen your photographs and they are phenomenal. It’s a complete honour to work with someone on your level,” you complimented while bumping his shoulder. A light red blush slowly spread up his neck that he tried to discreetly rub away.

“Well, you’re pretty awesome yourself,” he stuttered out while looking away from you. You let out a small laugh at how flustered he was. He peeked over at you with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s kind of cute how flustered you get from compliments. I might do it more,” you teased wiggling your eyebrows. His eyes widen as a small gasp escaped from his plump lips. “I’m joking, but that pretty adorable.”

A burst of pink slowly spread through his eyes as he stared at you with this weird expression. His eyes were softening and a small smile was pulling onto his lips. His long elongated ears twitched a little as he pulled his eyes away from you.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard someone call a minotaur cute," he muttered. You were ready to tease him again, but he started walking off. Oh right, the project.

For the next three hours, Arion led you through the forest to different destinations that were honestly breathtaking. You were so fascinated with trying to capture all the beauty, that Arion had to drag you away a few times. But you were quite happy with the shots you had so far.

“Look how vibrant these flowers are,” you cooed leaning over Arion’s back to show him your camera. Arion had huddled down for a second to take a picture of a ladybug on this white flower.

“Hmm,” he asked turning around to look at you. You didn’t expect him to turn around at all, so you didn’t put much distance between the two of you. His soft nose bumped into yours, resulting in him freezing. His eyes were blue for a split second before quickly flickering to yellow.

“Ah, sorry,” you stammered out too afraid to move. One wrong move and this day will get awkward really fast.

“It’s fine,” he whispered with his eyes drifting down. You would’ve been curious at what he was staring at if it were not for his eyes turning to that pretty shade of pink. The light from the sun seemed to emphasize every shade and spec in his eyes.

“Arion, don’t move,” you whispered leaning forward. HIs eyes widen, but he didn’t move a muscle. You rested your hand on his firm chest as you stared deeply into his pink eyes. They didn’t move from you as you got closer. You lifted your right arm up as you prepared yourself.

Snap!

You dropped your right arm to check how the picture came out. You took a step back to get off him as you looked at it.

“Arion, you should’ve told me you had colour changing eyes,” you marveled looking at the picture. It was a close up on the left side of his face that reveal all the beautiful colours in his eyes. Those pink eyes are making you weak. You didn’t know that a minotaur with pink eyes could look so...so...oh no.

“What!” Arion screamed covering his eyes. He fell backwards onto his back while furiously rubbing his eyes. “No,no,no,no!”

“Arion, are you okay?” you asked slinging your camera around your shoulder as you dropped down beside him. He shook his head while keeping his hands on his eyes.That deep red blush returned but with a vengeance. His neck was covered with it and it was slowly taking over his face. “What happened?”

“Has my eyes been changing colour all day?” he groaned out. He just laid there with his hands still hiding himself. What is going on? Is his eyes not suppose to do this?

“Yeah, ever since I got here. It’s been blue and green,” he let out a relieved sigh,” but it’s been mostly pink all day.” You let out a surprise scream as Arion quickly jumped off the ground. He shook his head causing his shaggy hair to fall over his eyes. He opened them hesitantly, but all the hair was blocking you from seeing them clearly.

“Well, I think our-yeah we should- day getting quite long,” he stuttered out shaking slightly. He was so tense as he continued to ramble off different sentence structures. He seems to get more frustrated as he couldn’t form a complete sentence. “Leave-let’s leave.”

“Arion, breath,” you whispered grabbing his hand. He stopped talking and just stared down at your entwined hands. A light pressure was put into your hand as he rubbed his thumb along your skin.

“I guess you’re pretty weirded out right now,” he sighed looking down at you. You looked up and was able to see under his hair due to your closeness. His eyes were turned to a dull grey colour that was shimmering from tears wielding up in his eyes. “You didn’t have to force yourself to deal with me today. I probably made you uncomfortable.”

You felt so confused at that moment. But Arion was sad which is something that should never happen. Arion is the nicest person you know who is always helping out everyone. He does not deserve to be sad.

“I am not going to lie, but I am kind of confused right now. But what I do know for a fact is that today has been the best day I have had in awhile. You made today awesome. I barely even noticed your eyes changing colours because I was having too much fun with you. And if I am going to be honest, I think you look hot with pink eyes,” you admitted keeping your head up. You may regret that later, but Arion deserves to know the truth. He shouldn’t be embarrassed by what or who he is because it makes him him.

“Hot? Ah-well- you look hot-um always-like everyday,” his voice slowly disappeared as he slowly shrunk down. You tried to catch the end of it, but he was too quiet again. His giant hands started fiddling with the ends of his flannel.

“You don’t have to give me a compliment every time I give you one. I’m just reminding you how awesome you are,” you genuinely intoned squeezing his hand. He gave a small squeeze back as a small smile made its way up his face.

“But you deserve compliments too. I’m just bad at giving them,” he spilled out looking away from you for a second. His eyes slowly meet yours and you could see that beautiful pink coming back. It look so pretty on him. He’s so attractive. If he wasn’t out of your lead, you would try to shoot your shot.

“I’ll be fine, trust me," you quickly brushed off as you discreetly pulled your hand out of his. You need to stop this. You have had a good control over your emotions with him. You've accepted that you weren't in his lead and you've moved on. You are a changed person.

"So...are you...like is this okay?" He stumbled looking at you through his hair. You blinked in confusion for a split second before it hit you. Oh yeah, the eyes.

"Of course I'm fine with it. It's just simply your eye colour changing, it's pretty dang cool. Don't think I'm going to be weirded out by a rave happening in your eyes." You laughed a little at your own joke for a second before you realized that Arion wasn't laughing too or moving really. He seem to be frozen.

"You don't know," he whispered with his eyes changing to a dull yellow. What does he mean you don't know? Is there something else that he's hiding? Does his fingernails change colour too?

"What don't I know?" You pushed trying to get him to spill. Was it a minotaur thing or something? You knew a few minotaurs and have never seen their eyes change colour.

"It's-it's nothing. We should really be heading back," he grumbled pulling his hair in front of his eyes. He snatched his camera off the ground and started speed walking away.

"Wait, Arion," you yelled at him trying to make him stop, but he continued on walking away. "I was planning on taking some photos at night."

"Stay than," he yelled angrily before breaking into a sprint. It didn't take him long to disappear from your sight. Leaving you all alone.

What did you do wrong?

Arion was avoiding you. This was a fact. At first, you thought that his busy schedule was keeping him away from you, but you were proven wrong.

Everytime class ended and you got up to talk to him, maybe apologize for something you may have done, he would take one glance at you before sprinting away. You caught him after school at a vending machine and you called out his name, he didn't look you way as he bolted away. See him in the library, a trail of dust is all that's left of him. Pass by him in the hallways, cold shoulder. Text, call, email him, left on read.

But maybe this was his way of getting away from you. That day in the forest must have weird him out and must have been disgusted by you. Were you insensitive to some sort of minotaur's culture by not knowing what colour changing eyes meant? Who knows? It's not like you will ever find out.

"Okay, I'm tired of this." You blinked out of your reverie and looked to see a black minotaur standing in front of you. Her eyes were narrowed at you with a clear sign of irritation. "What happened between Arion and you?"

You were about to lie and say that everything was normal. I mean, you don't need unnecessary drama floating around about you two. But before you could, the girl beat you to it.

"I can tell you're about to lie and don't even try it. Arion has been moping around the house and not talking to anyone. You keep zoning out in class and staring at Arion like some kicked puppy. So, you better tell me what happen between you two so I can smack some sense into the both of you."

You open your mouth to disagree, but closed it in defeat. You haven't been the sneakiest in your quest to try to interact with Arion. You just wanted to fix things.

So, you told her everything that happened that day. How it started off so great than went bad and things were about to wrap around before it all just blew up in your face.

"I know this will seem off topic, but are you from around this area," she asked squinting her eyes at you. You shook your head no at the odd question. You moved here for college, since it was a great fine arts school and had cheap tuition.

"Great," she hissed out sarcastically while glaring at nothing. "Well, I have about 4 minutes to give you a history lesson before Arion starts doubting that I left my choker behind."

She sat on top of the desk in front of you and crossed her legs. Her black platform boots swung close to your desk like a hypnosis pocket watch.

"Once upon a time, around 300 years ago, there lived this friendly minotaur. He befriend a witch and was best friends with her. The witch believed he was giving her signals that he liked her, but she was just dumb. She jumped the gun and asked for his hand in marriage. Obviously, he rejected her and she got salty. Decided to curse all minotaurs in the area for future generations to have their hearts on the sleeve. Luckily, she didn't mean literally. Our eyes just changed colour to express our emotions, so our true emotions would always be present. Around 200 years ago, a nicer witch felt bad for us and tried to counteract the spell, but it didn't work all the way. We appear normal, but if we love someone, they can see our eyes change."

She stopped and stared at you. She seem to be expecting something. "If you are saying that Arion is in love with me, than this really seems like a prank."

A loud groan ripped from her throat as she kicked her legs in a tantrum. "You two are going to turn my fur grey, I swear. You know what, I'll give you my number. I will prove it to you. Just wait for my call."

She grabbed one of the pens off your desk before scribbling her number on your worksheet. She grabbed her bag and ran out of the room.

Glancing down at the number, you begin to ponder. How exactly was she going to prove her crazy explanation for Arion's attitude? It's not that she can go to him and be like "hey, are you in love with the human that is so beneath you and you're disgusted to see her everyday that you avoid her? No, oh whelp, should've seen that coming."

It was a set up for heartbreak, but somewhere deep deep inside of you, you had that little hope. Maybe, he truly did like you, might even go as far as to say he loved you. There was always a one in a billion chance of that happening.

But you didn't want to get your hopes too high. When you arrive home, you texted the number that it was you and she responded she would call you when it's time. She didn't say a specific time, so it was more of a waiting game.

Trying to trick yourself into thinking you were unaffected by the situation, you finished your homework and started cleaning. You didn't even keep your phone on you because you knew you would be jumping at every notification.

A soft melody sung from your phone causing you to perk up at the sound. Your unphased attitude immediately disappeared as you threw your body through the air towards your phone. You were quick to snatch your phone up before your body fully crashed down.

"Hey, don't speak," a light voice whispered quickly, it was the black minotaur's voice. You closed your mouth as you heard shuffling on the other end.

"Leave me alone. I don't want to talk about it," a deep voice grumbled. You instantly knew it was Arion's voice. "I thought you guys said we were going to have a movie night. So, why are you guys asking these questions?"

"It just you were extremely happy about Sunday to meet her, but then you came back angry with tears in your eyes. You rarely cry over something."

"Thanks for pointing it out," he snapped out causing it to get quiet for a moment. You heart dropped at hearing his tone. See, you were right. He obviously upset about something you did.

"We aren't trying to bother you or anything," the girl's spoke out again a little softer. You thought you may have heard a small sniffle. "We just want to know what happened. Did she do anything wrong?"

"No!" You let out a small squeak at how loud that was. You covered your mouth as you put your ear back to the phone. You don't think they heard you due to the coughing from Arion. "It's not her. She was perfect, as always. It was me with my weird minotaur self. She saw my eyes changing colour and didn't know what it meant."

He stopped talking as he let out a long sigh. There was shuffling before he sounded a little closer than before.

"I- I got angry at myself. I got mad that I'm not some confident human who would have a better chance with her. Instead I'm cursed beast who can barely form a word around her." Your heart dropped down as you heard his voice started to crack. The sniffling sound got a little louder and you could hear small whimpers of concern.

"Dude, I promise you she doesn't think that way. She's been trying to talk to you everyday and looks almost as sad as you when you ignore her. Plus did you see how happy she looked when you asked her to be your partner. She looked like she was floating on clouds," a deep random voice you didn't recognize spoke. Everyone let out hums or agreement. Is your crush on him that obvious?

"I doubt it's like that. She's just nice like that. Makes everyone feel like they're bathing in sunlight when she looks at them. Makes their breath catch in their throat when she smiles. That's just her," he spoke so softly, but you were hanging on to every where. He really thought these things of you. What you would give to be there with him so you could tell him of your feelings.

"No offense, but I do not get those things when I talk to her," the girl said with a slight laugh to her voice. "I think it's because she's trying to give that affect you."

"Stop trying to give me hope, guys. It's nice and I see what you're trying to do. But it'll only set me up for heartbreak in the end. It's better to accept that now," he grumbled lowly. You heard a long sigh close to the phone before you heard some shuffling.

"Well, why don't we just ask her. Hey, do you like my step brother?" You jumped away from the phone as you realized that she was talking to you. Where you allowed to speak? Maybe this was a rhetorical question.

"Wait, you've been on the phone with her this entire time," Arion voice screamed out followed by shuffling. You could hear a girlish scream followed by a male grunt. "I'm so sorry. Please forget everything you just heard. I'm-stop biting me- so sorry if this weirded you out. I'll leave you alone."

"Wait, no. Please don't. I-um- I really like you too," you admitted quickly. All the commotion on the other side stopped causing you looking at the phone. The timer was still going.

"Can you repeat that? I think I got some fur stuck in my ears and it's making me hear stuff," he asked with a forced laugh at the end. You grabbed your bed sheets and twiddle it. You just got to go for it.

"I really like you Arion, I have for a while. I thought you were way out of my lead because I'm just a simple human and you're your amazing self. But even with that thought, it didn't stop me from seeing your beautiful personality and how you are so friendly and kind you are to everyone. Not to include how attractive you look in anything you wear. I always get super nervous around you and I thought you hated me for it. So hearing you feel the same way has my heart not exactly beating in the correct rhythm." You let out a small laugh as you laid your hand across your chest. Your heart was pounding crazily, but you felt so much relief. You had been holding that in for the longest of time and to finally get that felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulder.

"Oh, wow," he asked in a tense voice. You were about to ask if he was okay before he spoke again. "Would you like to go see a movie with me Friday after taking some pictures?"

"Yes," you said with a giant smile on your face. You were going on a date with Arion. You thought he was out of your league but you somehow manage to catch him.

"Cool, well if you excuse me. I'm going to pass out." A loud crash followed afterwards and was accompanied by two low screams and a high pitched laughter. There was more shuffling on the other end before a light voice spoke.

"Well, I guess that clears up things. I'll guess I'll see you tomorrow at school," she sounded as if she was about to hang up before she clicked her tongue," Oh, before you worry. Arion's fine. He somehow managed to pass out with a giant smile on his face. Only you could do that to him. Anyway, night."

A soft clicked met your ear before you were surrounded by silence. Well, not for a long. You screams and happy laughter filled the room as you threw a few objects in happiness.

You did it. You gain the courage to express yourself to Arion and he asked you out. Life was going great.

Before you went to bed, you pulled out your phone. You clicked on Arion's contact before changed his name.

Your Arion❤

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Ahhhhh, I really don't know how to feel about this one. I wrote it off a trend of people eyes changing colour and I thought it would be cute to write about so I did. I know I wrote too much as always, but I will come around soon to add a read more (my computer broke again so I'm stuck on good ole mobile). As always, please leave a Like and I do read and appreciate every single Comment I get. So please leave as many as you would like, it makes my day. Thank you for reading this. Love you guys💜💜💜

[courtorderedcake]

Majestically Too Far Beyond, CSSNS 2020

Emma Swan is a Witch who has made (And apparently makes) bad decisions. Helping a desperate Witch out of a weird situation doesn't seem like a bad decision, even against her, runes, a tarot reading and her friend's Snow druid intuition - until it is and the consequences are very real.

Killian is a Demon with a long history of persecution against him, and his denizens are not much better off. His Angelic brother is on a mission to rehab Demonic image to prevent violence on the streets of Hyperion Heights, as some sort of Holy mission deeply rooted in millenia of guilt. Witches and Warlocks use them for parts, Werewolves see them as a threat, Angels mostly still hold on to the ancient feud regardless of their treatise, Fae stay chaotic neutral, Vampires don't care for others affairs - it's a perilous world where hate crimes happen without consequence. After a disastrous meeting, he attempts to drown his frustration with a trip to the bottom of a bottle, but ends up falling in bed with a mysterious Witch in her tower home. Soon he's missing a hand, has only the vaguest idea of what happened from the mess of blood he's woken up to, and a mirror shows that some strange, different, Witch is pregnant with his child.

RATED M for Mature Themes. Written for @cssns​ 2020 Beta’d by The best team ever ( @jarienn972​  @ultraluckycatnd​  @donteattheappleshook​) and Art by @kmomof4​

Read on Ao3 HERE. 1 | 2 

Chapter 2 - House Evil Spirits to appease of,

Part of Emma was coming to terms with the new fact that she was pregnant, then just as rapidly she reverts back through the cycle of grief, sometimes not in order. The doctor had warned her this would happen when she announced that they would be keeping her for overnight observation as a safety precaution, dropping the news that her new pregnancy hormones would also make her feel even more upside down then she had ever imagined. It was one thing to be told, but feeling it was another thing entirely.

She had gone from laughing at the breakfast menu she was handed to crying over grilled cheese not being an option, to enraged at being brought bright blue jello with her 'breakfast sandwich' made of bologna and eggs. They could not have known the intense reaction the jiggling neon goo would have given her, her magic flaring and sputtering in turn as she launched it away from her. But then again, she doubted any of the staff had spent time in a No-Magic cell. Nausea bloomed as soon as rage subsided, the food on the plastic tray too similar to what had been served to her over those long years locked away. 

Now irritation was playing through multiple emotions, a new nurse violently poking her with a needle, and running some sort of IV. 

"You're giving me what -" 

"A hormone treatment, and a magic suppressant." 

"But I need my magic -" 

"Would you prefer to shrivel up and die? You'll still have enough to do daily witch activities or whatever. This helps keep the extra at bay, and your baby healthy. It needs your magic." 

"Oh. Great." She laughed, half crazed at the news and the nurse's treatment. "Just great."

"Mess with their kind, and well." She shrugged, eyeing Emma's body. "An Angel wouldn't do that to you. A Vampire couldn't, and the rest of 'em could, but you wouldn't have to suffer through all this nasty magic aftermath. You're just early enough for a termination though, thank Merlin."

"I didn't do this to myself on purpose . This was never supposed to happen, at least not like this…" 

"Sure." The nurse rolled her eyes as she drew out the word, clearly being condescending. "It's never the Witch’s fault; I hear it every time I'm fixing them for blowing themselves in half for not reading a spell right. You play with dark magic, there's a cost." 

Emma scowled, hot tears starting and streaming down her cheeks. Her anger and ferocity that was there just moments before had evaporated without warning into a deep resignation. 

"Can my brother come to see me yet?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"After they question you, sure. He can come pick you up - You're done here." The nurse pulled off the empty bag from the IV stand, throwing it in the trash. 

The doctor entered, waving a hello. Emma did not notice her, too busy staring at her bump. She joined the nurse as a machine beeped, helping to take out her IV and the pads on her belly. When that was done, Emma sat up, wobbling from her strange new center of gravity. 

The doctor smiled at her kindly. "We'll have your test results in a few days to a week's time. You'll feel strange and sluggish the first few weeks as your body catches up to the rapid growth, your hormones, the magic, so on and so forth. From there, you may actually start to grow as normal until you'll need the next dose of suppression. We'll schedule that out for 4 months from now, checking in monthly, but if you grow suddenly, shrink suddenly, your extremities swell, or you begin to exhibit flu like symptoms, come in immediately. If anything seems off, just give us a call. We have a twenty-four seven nurse line should you have any other questions. Good luck!"

The doctor left without much more than a precursory glance back. 

Snapping her gloves, the nurse glared over her glasses at Emma. "Leave when you are ready. We got you a different outfit; it's amongst your personals there."

The nurse left in a hurry, leaving Emma to dress herself in a large pair of green hospital scrubs, her new figure completely foreign as she rubbed her hands across the smooth skin. Her once flat stomach was distended, a slight curve that pushed out stretched skin. Her clothes in the plastic bag they had given her were dirty and looked damp. The clothing she was given would have been a small comfort if the stiff fabric didn't feel so much like her old prison uniform. 

"Fuck," Emma choked out, gripping the chair for support. She felt dizzy, absolutely nauseated at the idea of a baby. Her baby. She was pregnant. Something in her felt warmth at the idea, a strange, creeping feeling of rightness mixed with calm. The rest of her wanted to claw at her skin, urging her to wake up from this horrible dream. 

Every time she closed her eyes, she fervently wished this wrongness was a hallucination. But it wasn't; she was still swaying on her feet every time she opened her eyes again. This wasn't some sort of nightmare, there was a baby, some creature's inhuman child inside her. "Fuck. Fuck!" 

Tears began to prick behind her eyes, her face heating as she sat down on the hospital bed with her head cradled in her hands. 

( You can't cry over this. This happened because of your shady dealings. 

  You got a firstborn child alright. Yours. )

Swallowing hard, Emma tried to banish the thoughts bombarding her. 

( A baby. A baby you can love and hold, who you will never abandon. Someone you can raise the way you weren't, a second chance. Put your armor back on - for you and your child. )  

Emma bit her lip hard, swiping angrily at her tears. Bottling up the emotions, she took a breath, grabbed her purse, and walked down the hallway. To her great surprise, Elsa was waiting. 

"Emma, oh my stars. This is - I have no words. I'm so sorry," Elsa whispered. Emma gave a half hearted shrug, her voice still trembling slightly.

"Yeah. Well. Can I go home yet? That's why you're here right?" Emma hated the anxious, pleading edge of her tone.

"No, not yet. You have to be interviewed by the inspector detective here and then you are free to go." Elsa approached and hugged Emma softly. "I got you a nice one though, he's one of my favorites. Jones. He's an Angel - literally and figuratively. He's saved me on so many cases, I can't help but sing his praise." 

"Oh Elsa. Thank you." Emma hugged her friend tightly, both of them trembling. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Elsa scoffed. "I don't know what anyone would do. Joking aside, we are all going to be here for you, no matter what happens. It's not going to be like last time." Elsa pushed back a strand of Emma's hair, looking straight into her eyes. "You won't go through this alone. We're going to fight for you, and figure this out. Luckily, our major project is postponed anyway. Until they find the Demon Prince, the council is on a hiatus." 

"I just want to go home. I don't know if I can handle everyone right now." Emma mumbled. "It's bad enough David probably knows, which means Snow and everyone else -" 

"Please don't push us away, Emma. We know it's a lot, but going into the unknown like this," Elsa took one of Emma's hands, squeezing it lightly. "Having a family, having faith and love - it's the only way to get through."

"Miss Frost," a low voice called from a room nearby. Elsa led Emma to a small office, smiling at the large Angel who stood on one side of a desk. He returned her smile, until Emma met his eyes. His frown was slow, not suiting his features, even when his blue eyes sharply laser focused on Emma's rotund body. She could see his muscles tense, his golden tinged wings giving the smallest of flutters. "Miss Swan."

"I'll leave you both to it, then." Elsa smiled, inspector Jones weakly returning it as she closed the door to them. 

Emma sat in the only chair on her side of the desk, landing with an audible noise in surprise. Her body was heavier now. Of course sitting felt wrong. Jones grunted before sitting in his chair, his presence formidable even with his wings unopened. He began jotting down notes, not looking up at her for a long, stretched pause of silence. Emma fidgeted uncomfortably, one foot bouncing on the floor. 

"Stop that at once," Liam growled, his eyes narrowed.

Emma stopped, hissing out a nervous laugh. "Sorry, I just -" 

"How did this happen?" Liam interrupted, gesturing at her with clear disgust. "Dr. Mullins indicates it was against your will? You haven't been sexually active to induce conception? Explain."

"Well, I um -" 

"And I must remind you Miss Swan," Liam grimaced, marking something on his paper. "Lying to me is a crime itself. Perjury."

"Yes, I uh - I know." Emma nodded with a gulp. She took a breath, centering herself, and began to tell him the entire story of what had taken place with Gothel. He listened in absolute silence, writing the entire time as his frown only deepened. When she had finished, he continued writing in the oppressive silence, until finally flicking his eyes up to glare at her again. 

"Is that all, Miss Swan?" 

"Yes, then I, um, got the cramps -" 

"Spare me the sordid details of the consequences your illegal activity most likely caused," Liam drawled, sarcastically. He leveled his angry, burning gaze at her, and she felt like an animal being cornered by much larger prey. "Now, I have some questions for you. Answer to the best of your ability, but remember -" 

"Do not lie, yeah I remember," Emma said softly. 

"Who says you Witches can't be taught," Liam sneered, his voice mocking. Emma felt irritation bubble up in her gut, her surprise that Elsa liked this asshole rising. If he was a good inspector, Emma never wanted to meet a bad one. "Now. What exactly did this Gothel ask of you in exchange for her firstborn?" 

"Youthful beauty and a long life, I think," Emma stated, thinking hard. "She wanted to be young forever. I told her that it wouldn't be instant or eternal, that she would have to wait. Now I know why it didn't bother her."

"Did she mention any other rituals, Miss Swan?" Liam asked. 

"No, but she did say that she was in a time crunch." Emma shrugged slightly. "I don't know if that means anything."

Liam looked at her with more vehemence, still writing furiously. "Did you feel any effects at that time?" 

"No, I was surprised I didn't with the amount of magic that detonated. I checked myself twice to make sure, once with a warding bind even." The strangeness of the situation and her clear confusion due to it made her voice sound foreign to Emma's own ears. Did he know how much she didn't want this? "Nothing. Then boom, today I - today this. She showed her true colors at the end, did an evil laugh and everything." 

Liam hummed disapprovingly, looking over his notes. Flicking his eyes back to hers, he glared with contempt. "Let me make sure I have this all correct. So, you and this other Witch do a forbidden and illegal ritual -" 

"I had no idea it was going to be this illegal, I swear!" Emma began to feel panic, her heart racing. "I thought I was helping -" 

"Sure, sure, even though you already have a record -"

"That was - That was different, I was set up and I -" 

"It seems like you are awfully good at being set up, Miss Swan. So what did you get out of this?" The inspector looked at her in disgust, folding his arms against his chest. "A Demon child to experiment on? Heightened powers?" 

"No! No, I had no idea she would - I didn't know - I thought later on that she'd give me her unwanted child. I didn't want another kid to be unwanted. I didn't know the parentage - "

The inspector interrupted with a loud scoff, leaning forward and leering at her. "Likely bloody story." 

"Detective Inspector Jones, I swear to you, I swear it - I had no idea what… I had no idea this would happen. I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to get pregnant, I still don't know what to do."

"If it is a Demonic child, even only a half-breed, the best thing to do is give them up." Something painful twisted in her gut, a deep feeling of dread and wrongness. 

"I can't, I want to think about it and wait to look at options -"

"You can . You should . It will get easier the longer you are separated from the leeching thing." Liam's sneer turned into a look of pure disgust. "Don't wait, and get it out of you before it completely ensnares you in its unholy thrall."

"It's a child, sir, and my choice. I'm not making any promises -" 

"No Demon has ever been innocent, not even a baby. They are inherently selfish, cruel, and angry. Your mixed breed baby will be the same." Liam looked down at his feet, his fingers interlaced as he rested his elbows on his knees. His voice had lost the cruel edge, and Emma felt her superpower activate. He didn't believe what he was saying, and as she watched him, she noticed how tired he looked. 

"Inspector, are... Are you alright?" 

"Miss Swan," Liam chuckled darkly, pinching the bridge of his nose before glancing up to look at her. "If I was in your position, I would worry about myself, especially if jail time was on the table." 

Emma felt as if he'd slapped her, air rushing from her lungs as her heart beat rapidly. 

"Jail time?" She asked in disbelief, "What about Gothel? Why are you demonizing me -"

"That is government business, Miss Swan." Liam stood stiffly, rummaging in his pocket. He fished out a card, carefully sliding it on the table towards her. "If you remember anything, contact us. Otherwise, we will be in touch. I'll have the nurse give you the proper paperwork and instructional pamphlets."

He turned, pushed the curtain aside, and Emma heard a soft whoosh of air indicating his exit. Looking down at her body under the scrubs, she cursed Eloise with every fiber of her being. 

  ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

  The first few nights were a string of blurry, anger, and grief strewn rampages. Elsa has taken her home, Emma unwilling to let David even see her until she had some space to take care of herself. She had sent a text, and after a lot of back and forth arguing surrounding his lengthy replies, David had conceded. 

  (She just couldn't right now. 

Not right now. Not yet.) 

A Celestial, or something similar. Most likely Demon, he had said. 

Gothel had not only gotten her pregnant, but with some Demon child that could be claimed by its monstrous father for who knew what awful reason. Emma shuddered at the thought, hands protectively resting on her small swell of stomach. Pulling them away as they trembled, she cursed her body and the invader that was making her feel so attached to it. Demons didn't exactly get along with any of the other demographics, but Witches and Demons had the most volatile relations amongst any of them. Her own child might grow to hate her, all because of how much Witches persecuted Demon kind. 

She could still… No. She would not terminate the baby this far along. Every part of her vibrated with the wrongness of the very idea, sending her retching into the kitchen sink. She gripped both sides of the basin, crying hot, angry tears as she came to terms with the parasite - the baby, the small baby, the life - occupying her body. As much as she tried to hate it, the only hate she could muster fell on herself and Eloise. 

Part of her felt crazed, crying in her bathtub, nauseated and afraid of every implication and outcome. Laying her head back on the tile, she wondered about what she was going to do. Rubbing her new bump slowly, Emma traced the curve. Sixteen months. A doubly long second trimester, and extended third, all while it changed with her body. Mixed children generally presented like their non-Demonic parent, and the pregnancy bond would be fierce regardless of species. Although it was doubtful at this point it was even in effect despite her behavior and thoughts, Emma smiled at the thought that she already felt attached to her baby. Her own family. 

Her brother was going to go insane, and her sister-in-law… Snow was always supportive and full of a positive outlook. Emma had teased her that it was an Elf thing, but her pointed ears would twitch as she blushed, and she'd mumble something about her plants helping. Smoking her pungent blends of cannabis could make anyone positive, and Emma was suddenly envious. 

Regina and the coven would be on the defensive, taking over everything in Emma's life without quarter. That would be another comfort, their careful planning and patience having gotten her this far through her difficult life. 

In the end, the coven, Ruby, and Snow were over shortly after her emergency summons, flying through her doorway. Ruby was a Werewolf Emma had befriended through Snow. While Regina disliked her, Emma didn't think she was any different than most humans other than her keen sense of smell and bluntness. It was these traits that immediately made it clear what was wrong. It would seem not everyone in their circles knew yet. That would take a few more days. 

“Emma,” Ruby whispered, horrified, her nose wrinkling as tears filled her eyes. “What did… Who did this to you?”

"They think it is a Demon, but it's almost definitely Celestial, or something with a dynamic gestational period due to magic." Just behind Ruby, the rest of the coven began appearing, all staring on her porch as Emma ushered them in. "Until I find out the father, I don't know, although most likely it's Demonic."

Regina's head snapped up. “A Demon? Emma, what do you mean dynamic -”

The women went quiet when Emma lifted her shirt to show them her bump, explaining everything. 

Emma laid her head in Snow’s lap after, feeling numb. Snow stroked her hair gently, looking at the others. Their coven was small, mostly women, but David and two other men were honorary members by means of dating or marriage. Anna picked at her braid, eyes wide, while Belle's mouth was still open from her earlier gasp. Mulan, Regina, and Merida were all business. 

“I'll hunt the Witch and her Demon pet down myself, and bring him back here. We can take turns peeling away his skin -” 

“Mulan,” Merida hissed, her curls bouncing when she nodded her head at Emma, who's eyes were welling with tears once again. 

“I thought… I thought I was doing something good ,” Emma burst into tears, sobbing into Snow, and Belle excused herself to fetch the whistling kettle from the stove. Pouring everyone tea, they tried to figure out what to do. 

“Well, you certainly can't go hunting skips,” Regina scoffed. “And this house, I mean, I get that you fixed it up but it's a dump -”

“Oh! David would be happy to have you back on the farm with us!” Snow lit up, but the thought of being around their saccharine relationship and the smell of incense, patchouli, and skunky smelling herb had her running for the toilet. The others talked and sipped tea, planning out things as Emma curled up on her bath mat. Maybe it was better to terminate, if the leap in growth hadn't made it too late. Would it be better to give it up? Her mind filled with swirling ideas, and Emma let herself get lost in her sadness. 

Ruby snuck in a moment later, sitting next to Emma quietly. 

“So,” she whispered quietly, and Emma cracked open an eye to look at her friend's face. 

“So,” Emma rasped back, her throat raw. 

“Apparently, you're going to go live with Regina in the Guest ‘Wing’, yes, not room, ‘Wing’, and work at one of Belle’s bookstores. I tried to chime in with what your input might sound like. They looked at me as if I'd eaten Anna's familiar. Not like Elsa would let me snack on knock-off Rudolph anyway. Miss Ice Queen has her fancy new council to lord over, so who knows. We could have some reindeer snacks.”

Emma snorted, a smile breaking across her face. 

“Look,” Ruby started, running a hand through her hair to push back her straight brunette style. ”I know how important it was for you to be independent, Emma. I know you really cared about Neal, too. I just… There's something… There's something really off with this situation, and it's not just my nose saying that you smell weird, like dark magic weird, or my gut saying a Witch that makes contracts with Demons for a baby, knocks you up, then just up and vanishes is bad news. I want you to be safe. I called Graham on your telephone, and there's an opening at his precinct I think you might like. It’s mostly paperwork -”

“Rubes!” Emma laughed despite herself. “That's awesome, thank you-”

“Just listen. I want to meet this… Demon. I still have this feeling like something is really off, and you're neck deep in danger. Besides, you know, the Demon part of the situation. Are you sure that you can't remember, er… Well. You know?”

“No, it was literally one minute I was fine, then the next the worst period cramps of my life while I inflated. I was sort of Instant Knocked Up, just add magic or whatever.” Emma rubbed her temples, and Ruby sighed. 

“Well, if it makes you feel better, Granny says that's most likely how I was conceived too.” Ruby flashed her a smile, and Emma laughed, hugging her friend tightly. 

“I don't know what I would do without you, Rubes.” 

“Look, I'm pretty sure Graham isn't into a menage et trois with a preggo, but I'll broach the subject.” 

“You're ridiculous,” Emma laughed. 

“You wouldn't have it any other way.”

  ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

Months passed slowly as Emma waited for the other shoe to drop. Work at the station was easy, filing reports and making coffee not troublesome at all. Liam apparently worked somewhere in the massive complex, but Emma made no moves to seek him out or head to the detective offices. 

Her house was almost completely redone and brand new; the floors, walls, ceilings, and everything in between redone with the utmost care. 

  ("I refuse to let you live like this and represent our coven," Regina ran a finger along the mantelpiece, grimacing when it came up dirty. "Are you sure that you have to live here?" 

"What Regina means," Elsa shot her a glare as Regina shrugged, rubbing her fingers together, "Is that any of us would love to have you. Don't feel obligated to stay -" 

"But don't feel like you have to leave either. David and I would love to help you fix up the place, maybe have you make a few rooms?" Snow encouraged. David nodded, his arms crossed across his chest. 

Elsa clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh yes, you could make an apothecary room like the one you talked about, and a potion brewing room, a nice place to grow plants, a library -" 

"And we'd all pitch in, if you wanted to make a nursery?" Mary Margaret mumbled, almost shyly. "I wanted to throw a baby shower for you since we found out, but I didn't want to overwhelm you like I feel like I always do -" 

"Too late," Emma gritted under her breath, her friends already planning the event for her.)

  Emma actually had eased into the idea; at first it seemed absurd that they were planning for this when the whole situation was so strange. The father was still unaccounted for, even as the test results made it clear that the baby was of Demonic parentage. Sometimes Emma thought she could feel something, a little tug, the eerie feeling of being watched, or an emotion that wasn't hers flitting through her mind, but she dismissed them easily. More often, she was fascinated by the lack of information on the bond her and this child were supposed to have. 

Pouring over books, it was as if someone had removed or rewritten any passages about Demonic parenting, specifically with a non Demon parent. She had found minor information on the bond in a few books. It was supposed to be fierce, the instinct making women hysterical and unreasonable. It only got more intense when the father was around, cases of actions deemed feral surrounding the mixed couples she had managed to find. All of them had ended in tragedy, and Emma eventually found herself unable to stomach reading about them. 

Or anything really, food was enemy number one on baby's list, unless it was deep fried, covered in sugar, or drenched in sweetness. Without shame, Emma had managed to eat and keep down an entire jar of marmalade with crackers. 

When Snow, Elsa, and Ruby's grandmother had brought up the food options they would make if Emma would let them throw her a shower, she had caved. 

  ( "I will make you a bear claw cake, mini grilled cheese, and onion rings, amongst other things," Granny grinned. "And I will crochet you the most darling blanket for your little girl."

Emma tried not to drool, or give in. "That's nice, but I don't think I want that many people here, you know? That detective is watching my every move, I feel like a whale, I never know which food will agree with me -" 

"And I will make sure I have a never-ending hot chocolate drip for you." Granny's eyes twinkled, full of mischief. "With toppings."

"Including cinnamon?" Emma asked, unable to disguise the longing in her voice. Granny nodded firmly. "How did you know? Wait - did you say a girl -" 

"I just know," she shrugged. "Call it a wolf's intuition." ) 

It was supposed to be small, just a few people and family, but somehow it had turned into a full on social event. Emma was grateful that she had added a few rooms in the days before, the space sorely needed regardless of how drained she felt. Even still, she loved the house. It actually felt like hers, the exposed beams and vintage fixtures mixed with tapestries, framed art, and treasured photos. Her herbs dried above a large sink, food was spread along a long bar and buffet sideboard, and people milled around her living room that she had adjoined to two more exact copies through her doors. 

No need to be original there.

( Her private door stayed tucked away in the upstairs hallway, and it was unable to be unlocked by anyone but her. 

That was more important than a few extra rooms she could collapse after these people were gone. ) 

Emma was a good sport for the first couple of hours, playing games, being paraded around to people who apparently were important in the city, and sipping hot cocoa. Elsa, Regina, Mulan, and Snow were putting emphasis on her innocence, and although it was a spectacle, Emma hoped it would work. 

Two very terrible things ruined her mood. 

At some point, Elsa fell away from Emma's side, returning as cake was being cut. Her face was pinched, irritability written across it as she glared down at the slice she's given. 

"You okay?" Emma whispered, and Elsa blinked, looking up in surprise. 

"Oh, yeah. I just - I thought my date might show up, but he's working." Elsa gritted out the last word, anger seeping into it. "He's on this case, and it's important to him because it's family related, but I want him to understand that I have family too, and I could help if he just -" Throwing up her hands, Elsa groaned in annoyance. 

"I'm so sorry. I don't know anything about -" 

"Emma," David pulled her up by her arm, looking around as if checking for something. "Kitchen. Now."

There's no time to protest, his grip strong and firm, dragging her into the kitchen. 

"David, what the fu -" 

"That detective was here, asking about you," Regina hissed, pointing out towards where guests milled. "We made sure he left, but he was asking questions."

"Questions?" Emma repeated, fear gripping her. Elsa walked in, listening to the conversation beside her. 

"Like, if you had a history of criminality, if you knew and associated with undesirable magic users, if you knew who the father was or were protecting who did this to you," David said. The stillness around them seemed to tense just as they were. 

"If he questions you, you make sure to tell him that you know nothing," Elsa whispered, trying to hold her hand. "Make sure you proclaim your innocence, and he'll believe you, he has to -" 

"You think I haven't tried?" Emma ripped her hand away, looking at all of her friends with annoyance. "I agreed to this not knowing it was going to serve as some bullshit trial ball, where I'd be judged like this. I've searched everywhere for that woman, I have nothing to hide. She's disappeared, and not like a new identity in Guam disappeared, no. Like, off every plane of existence without a trace. It wouldn't matter if I did find her, because this is my kid. The bonds of the spell make her of my blood more and more every day. I can't just go back to the way things were - "

"What about the father?" Regina asked. 

"I don't know. I know nothing about him or why he hasn't come. As far as I know, he might not. I don't know how he couldn't feel these binds. I know I feel something, but it could be because I'm practically mooing, I'm so huge, and I have these crazy urges. The hormones alone here are making me feel insane, even before you started in on me. Even before that asshole showed up because we have the entire damn city here!"

"I told you this was a bad idea, Regina," Snow mumbled. Regina glared in return. 

"We - I just want you to know that no one will judge you for not wanting this, or for giving up the baby -" David said weakly. 

"Shut up David," Emma growled out. Her hands rested against her stomach and she felt like she was going to fall over. "Right now, shut up and do not go down that road." 

"Emma, it's making you feel attached," Regina said gently. "And if I'm agreeing with him, you know I - "

"I mean it, not another word. I'm keeping my baby, that's it. End all, be all. Say another word and I will curse your tomatoes," She pointed at David, then rounded on Regina. "And hex your wardrobe with bleach stains that don't come out. Try me."

"Fine!" Regina threw up her hands while David grunted. 

The kitchen went silent, the tension palpable. 

"We got you a really nice layette," Snow offered, trying to clear the awkwardness while smiling. "Come open gifts, and look at all this cuteness. "

Emma begrudgingly moved forward, her eyes widening at the mountain of gifts in front of her. 

"Don't worry," Anna whispered as she pulled Emma down to sit. "I'm writing your thank you cards for you."

The crowd thinned after gifts, the night trickling on as the house emptied. If Emma had felt drained before, now she felt completely devoid of energy. The small crowd that's left hadn't bothered her, so when Snow and Regina asked her to do another walk about with them, it seemed safe enough. 

She saw him out of the corner of her eye, his head nodding, laughing at something in his self absorbed sly little chuckle that makes her want to break his nose. She must have tensed because Snow was beside her and sucking in breath harshly through her teeth, the coven turning as if they could all feel the disturbance. 

( Maybe they can, maybe the unbridled audacity of this man being here with another woman as he laughs with a martini glass in his hand is enough to share one collective experience of hatred. His eyes meet hers and he gives her a smirk that screams pity and humor at her expense as he lifts his glass toward her, mouthing congrats ) 

A figure cut in front of her, and her rage that feels like a sickening punch in the gut is coupled by this smack in the face - Neal's father grinned at her, his cane on the ground while both hands rest on its handle.

"My my my, Miss Swan," Gold smirked the same smirk that she wants to rip off his face. "When we heard, we were so surprised to not receive an invitation to this… quaint event of yours. Truly poor manners when our covens are no longer supposed to be at odds."

Regina and Elsa were there in front of her in a flash, Snow pulling her away, words being exchanged in hissed tones. Emma could barely hear over her heartbeat, over the sound of her stomach screaming at her to vomit. 

"You can protect her all you want, but we know what she did. We know what it will be," Gold's voice slithered over her skin even in the bathroom. "You can't redeem her, and she will be the reason for all of your downfall. Enjoy your council while it lasts."

David shooed everyone out when Emma hastily retreated, the entirety of her patchwork family pushing inside to comfort her. 

  ﾟ・.  ｡・. *✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ*⛧*.・｡*ﾟ.★.・.・✫*.・。.・゜

After the disaster of her shower, Emma began to feel the strange feeling of being watched even more. It became especially noticeable at night when she rocked in the nursery, sorting out piles of gifts. It felt like a presence sat beside her or hovered over her shoulder, and it began to follow her into her dreams. 

They didn’t last after she woke, glimpses of a mirror, of the sound of pounding, a muffled voice that she can't make out. 

The tip of the weird iceberg happened when Emma had gotten out of the shower, the steam in the room rising to fog the mirror. Dressing in pj's and heading back in to blow dry her hair, she had been dancing along to some new pop song by the Wolves of London, when her eyes caught the words.

On the fog of the mirror, her name had appeared backwards, joined shortly by the word 'Help' in a curling script that she blinked at in confusion before they disappeared. 

( A baby, a Witch, and a Ghost. Just what she needs in the never ending chaos that has become her life ) 

Luckily, the Coven can save her ass again. 

Regina glared at Emma, her judging silence lay heavily over the room. She crossed her arms, eyebrows pinching into further scorn, before asking again. 

"You want me to do what?" 

"Look, I know it's not your favorite thing to do, but you can and I don't have the gift or a guide like you do -" 

"That doesn't make it any easier!" Regina threw up her hands, then gestured to her pantsuit clad form. "It's my body, and my mother is just -" 

"I am begging you, Reg. Begging. You." Emma moaned, irritated. "The father is a complete mystery, there's a ghost in my house that I think has to do with him, and I'm scared it could be someone like…" Trailing off, she chewed her lip. 

Liam's increasing push for her to choose adoption had thrown her off her game these last few weeks, his phone calls almost non stop. In a way, he was right. She wasn't the only parent, and she certainly wasn't ready to be a mom. She was no one, absolutely nothing. It wasn't as if she could raise a baby. 

(Even if she wanted to, and the idea of her baby, her family enveloped in the family she chose and created, it made her feel nothing but happiness) 

Regina rolled her eyes with a huff. "Fine. Fine!" she snapped, slamming her hands on the table. "I do this for you, and you owe me. I expect you to be at my whim for this."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And I'm not doing it for long." She shuddered. "Every time I check out and she checks in, I feel so just -" She shuddered again, making a gagging noise. 

(Regina had done it before for David and her, to say goodbye to Ruth. It had hurt, hurt so badly, but not as much as Cora cutting the reunion short to tell her daughter to do more cardio.)

"I promise, we find his grandma or cousin or somebody, maybe whoever wrote that on my mirror, get the lead, and we're done." Emma nodded. 

With another sigh, Regina laid her hands over the table, palms up, and Emma laid her own over them. A lavender spark shot from their joined hands to the air above them, Regina's head falling back while purple smoke began to pour around the table, permeating the air. Regina shook slightly, before violently snapping her head forward and blinking. 

"Emma Swan, to what do I owe the pleasure of being ripped from my study?" A higher, nasal, woman's voice spoke out from Regina's mouth. "My daughter feels chubbier, and her skin is just -" Regina touched her face, making clucks with her tongue. "Oh, she is a mess! Did she break it off with that awful Warlock? Ugh, is she stress eating? I try not to pry, but I know she ate at least one slice of chocolate cake when she was out this last week -" 

"Cora," Emma gritted out, closing her eyes in frustration. "Cora, Regina is fine. If she wants to discuss her love life with you, she'll call you up on the Ouija. I need your help to find someone, and I don't know the someone."

"Well, aren't you in a pickle."

"Please Cora, it's not just for me!" 

"Oh, you're not interested in Regina are you? Because you are much too low a class for her breeding -" 

"Oh Merlin, no, no!" 

"What is it then?" Cora sighed in a bored drawl. "I've told you I can't find your family if they don't want anything to do with you, I -" 

"No." Emma let her chest fall, speaking quietly. "No it's not that. I remember from last time and I have a family now." Emma took a deep breath, pushing back against the hurt in her chest. "I need to know… I need to know who the father is, and I'm having trouble. I need you to see if you can reach a relative, or friend, or someone who knows why his offspring is inside me, as well as what it is. I got a visit from a ghost, so here we are."

"Oooooh!" Cora squealed. "An enceinte pregnancy Miss Swan? An illegitimate baby? A haunting? How very risqué and daring on your salary!"

"Cora!"

"Fine, I'll check. I'll want the details of this though, so don't spare any of the juicy bits." Cora winked with Regina's face, before the woman's body went slack. After a minute, her head lifted back up, blinking slightly. "Well, Emma, what a doozy this is. This woman will not stop talking, and it's absolutely ridiculous how impossible she's being, even if she is ancient looking. Yes, I said ancient looking - well don't get mad at me, I tell it how it is - oh, I don't care who your son is, he can't be that grand if he's knocked up this wreck. Sorry Emma dear, I love you, but I mean," Cora shrugged, unabashedly. 

"Cora, ask her what her name is!" Emma hissed. 

"What's your name then? Oh, that's interesting. Not as good as Cora, or Regina -" 

"Cora!" 

"It's Milah. And she's not his mum, she's - oh he's an ex lover of yours? Juicy juicy! Sounds like Emma dear might be getting leftovers then? Oh don't be like that -" 

"I need a name Cora, this is so -" 

"I'm trying Emma dear, the woman won't shut up about her sweetheart. No - Really? The scandal, but - well that is so weird! Milah says that he's been hidden somewhere and no one is haunting you, but… Ugh! She's speaking so rapidly - yes, I get it, but if he wants the kid he would have come to get it, or - I am listening to you, you're not listening to me! A mirror? You should look at one, why do I have to tell her about a mirror? I mean Emma's at most average, and look at her figure now. A child will do that to you." Cora sighed, and Emma stiffened. Cora seemed to nod for a moment, before Regina's face soured further. 

"Don't get smart with me, you may be an old soul but you died far younger than I did!" Cora growled, her eyes slitting at some unseen target. She turned with her head cocked, looking at Emma with pity. "I'm sorry Emma, sweet little duckling, but this woman is a nightmare. She keeps screaming at me about how this Killian fellow is the father, but it's impossible for her to see him for whatever reason. Something about a mirror? She's also absolutely ancient, I haven't seen clothing like that outside of - Pre-Babylon? Is that the robe designer or…? Don't look at me like that miss bed sheet toga, I - Emma, this woman, I swear! It's just incessant chattering, really - "

"His name is Killian? Cora, wait, don't you -" 

"I understand that you were crazy in love with him, trust me, you seem crazy Milah dear. Yes, Killian is his name. A Demon of lust for vengeance. Wow, Emma, what a winner!" Cora snickered, and Emma resisted the urge to shriek. "Well, I don't care if the beast is misunderstood, he's a Demon. How touching, now please - oh come now, Gothel in the tower with the mirror? Red spire, Troll falls? What is this, Clue? Do I look like a detective?" Regina's eyes rolled, Emma desperately trying to remember the snippets that might make sense. Gothel, tower, mirror, red spire, troll falls. Killian. 

Cora grew louder, her voice rising in pitch. 

"Oh, how dare you! I'll have you know your cheap robes aren't exactly chic either; you need a wardrobe update, badly! You look like a ten cent frat party attendee!" Cora spat, and Regina's face pinched tight. "Excuse me? More important things, WELL , I never - Oh you rude little tart, I've had enough!" 

"Please Cora, no, I -" Emma attempted, but Cora flipped Regina's hair back, sniffing with haughty indignation. 

"It'll be alright Emma, duckling. It seems that your little orphan persona is perfect to parent this little babe! Shut up! No, I'm done with you, you crazy broad. Go back to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and buy some new linens!" Cora hissed, her mouth curled in an ugly snarl. "Anyways, Emma, just accept that you can't ruin a child to be like you if you're giving them a home, even if their father is some failed Demon. Or something inspirational, I don't know." She shrugged, Regina's shoulders going up in a blasé dismissal. Her eyes snapped to look behind Emma, her face contorted in rage. 

"Cora. I am begging you - " Emma tried again, but Cora's focus was elsewhere, on someone unheard and unseen. 

"Shut it, shut up thread count Cleopatra!" Turning back to Emma, she smiled serenely. "Tell Regina to summon me later, I need to know how she is. And tell her no more sweets, especially if she ever wants to be a wife. Ta!"

Regina fell forwards, her body shuddering as the lights flickered, purple smoke dissipating into the air. She moaned lowly, cracking her shoulders and neck as she rolled backwards. 

"Dammit!" Emma exclaimed, sitting up and violently stalking to the fridge. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" 

"Ugh, I can taste her perfume. Bring me a beer please," Regina groaned. Emma pulled a beer and a soda out of the fridge, giving the beer to Regina. "Emma, don't you ever say that I don't love you after that." Regina shuddered again, flicking her hand to open the beer and drinking down half of it in one go.

"I know you do. You just have… You're just abrasive with it. Like a big cat, or an alligator."

(Or a wood chipper wearing lipstick) 

"Shut up, and tell me how it went. Was it worth it? Mother never is, but -" 

"She, uh, well she got me some information to go on. So, that's something." Emma averted her gaze, licking her lips. 

"She talked about my weight, didn't she," Regina sighed. When Emma said nothing Regina drank the rest of the beer and walked to the kitchen, depositing it in the trash. Pulling out a wine glass, she reached under her cabinet and produced a bottle of wine. Emma raised an eyebrow. "Don't even start on me."

"I wasn't going to," Emma whispered. 

Laying her palms flat on the countertop and bowing her head, Regina looked up after a moment's pause. 

"So, what now?" She asked. 

Emma chewed on her lip, thinking hard. "I have his name, or at least I think I do. I think all that's left is to, well, summon him."

(Summon him, and say what? 'Hey, Mr. Demon, I'm having your kid and thought you might like to know', as if it would care, or want anything to do with her...) 

Regina's eyebrows shot up. "Not alone, surely -" 

"No. I would ask Snow, David, and maybe Mulan and Belle. I know Belle would be delighted, and she has the spellbooks."

"That actually sounds like a relatively good plan." Regina nodded, then took a sip of her wine. 

"Don't sound so shocked, Regina." Emma grumbled. 

"Miss Swan," Regina smirked, swirling the wine in her glass before taking another sip. "If you ever cease to stop shocking me with your antics, I'll assume I have gone to meet my mother and maker."

[spaceraspberries]

The expanse of shadowy, unending darkness expanding like a hungry maw ahead of the clearly unnerved Mira and Terra as the pair of young, naive explorers took their time in trying to calm their nerves as they sat by a column of rather cleanly cut stones for a long while, neither of the girls seemed to really want to venture any farther into the cave than they already had despite the possibility of going back to base being a no go for the time being.

After...-whatever- likely accident had gone on back there neither of the pair wanted to see what was left of the ravaged camp and potentially of their unfortunate team mates, Mira herself having came to the conclusion that it must have been some weird, natural event that no one had been prepared to encounter as depressing as the thought was, the still unexplored interior of Mt. Ebott likely having plenty more dangerous secrets to unfold yet still.

It only she had been clear minded enough in her and Terra’s rush to leave the camp than perhaps they could have been calling for back up at this very moment on the radio transmitter that had been stored away in Mira’s bag for emergency use, cell phone service obviously being nonexistent down here and rendering the devices they carried useless, The girls being fully on their own for now as hopeless as the terrifying thought was to ponder.

“Mira, I’m cold....”

A whispered breath coming from the wide eyed Terra as the petite girl cuddled to her best friend for warmth, being thinly built wasn’t really any benefit to the youngest among the former group of six, her not exactly being made to retain heat in a environment like this when she didn’t possess so much as a jacket due to having to leave the base in such a rush.

Terra shifting uncomfortably as Mira sighed and tried to assist her friend up into a better position, they couldn’t afford to remain in this single area of the cave for too long and simply hope that somehow, by some chance that help would come, the only real chances of that panning out being if anyone back at base was still alive and well enough to be able to contact emergency assistance through the radio.

Judging from the eerie silence of the darkness behind them it seemed there was little chance that was the case....

“Come on, I know your tired but we gotta keep moving forward. It’s not going to do us any good to sit around”, Mira still trying to keep up a chipper tone despite the circumstances as Terra simply nodded reluctantly in response and got up to begin to follow her designated leader farther into the cave system, the darkness of the cavern wasn’t easy for either of the girls to navigate, Mira more than once cussing under her breath as she stubbed a foot into a particularly hard rock.

It was probably a good half hour or so of feeling carefully along the dry, sandpaper like walls and trying to keep in touch with each other by talking before the long cave system began to finally show any signs of change,Terra taking notice of it first as she gasped at the sensation of strange smoothness under her bare foot at a point.

“M-Mira! I think we are getting somewhere!~”, The shy girls hopeful smile shining through even in the gloom as it was clear to Mira as well that the rock strewn path really was beginning to pan out into a more recognizably paved surface, it...did raise a few questions on exactly why a apparently unexplored cave system felt ‘paved’, the pairs sudden emergence into a long, pillared hallway as they rounded a corner making both of the girls stop in their tracks immediately.

The strangely lavender hued hall being flanked by unlit but seemingly well used torches every ten feet or so along its otherwise bare walls and intricately carved pillars, it gave the entire area a seriously unnerving and recently uninhabited vibe, a arched doorway farther down the path appearing to lead deeper into...well, whatever this strangely castle-like area was, Mira feeling her heart heavily pounding in her ears as she tried to take it all in one step at a time.

‘What -is- this? Surely t-this is some joke...there is no way someone -lives- down here, right?....I-I mean get it together, Mira....your almost five hundred feet underground!’

“What do you think all this is?....”, Terra glancing back at the cave they had emerged from cautiously as she followed Mira into the smooth stone paved hall, the slightly taller of the pair shook her head as she really couldn’t think of a logical explanation for any of this strange and unexpected place.

“Beats me. Whatever it is though I don’t think we should stick around and find out. This place is giving me the serious creeps”.

‘I’m going to have to remember to mention this once we get back to the surface. I mean, this is all probably just some old school cave attraction or something from back in the day...still, you would think it would have been on the GPS earlier...a-and Sean said no one had ever been down here before anyways....just...’

Trying to rattle her brain for answers as

she and Terra neared the end of the otherwise bare hall in no time, a strangely wet, fast paced skitter ahead of them through the archways seemed to get Terra’s attention as Mira took a second to observe some rather cryptic looking symbols on the last pillar in the room.

“U-uh, Mira....”, Terra’s eyes widening in confusion as she went to grab her distracted friends arm as she was absolutely sure that she saw something small, round and stout moving in the dimly lit gloom of the room ahead, Terra was absolutely sure that the only living creatures that had a chance of surviving down here were probably just bats, whatever was causing the wet, squelching sound she alerted Mira towards slowly moving closer....

And yet closer.....

Mira tensing her stance as she shuffled Terra behind her for safeties sake, the messy haired brunette tried to seem more intimidating than she actually was, puffing out her minimal chest and clenching her fists as if the worst kind of beasts was surely stalking them from the shadows.

“I don’t k-know -who- you are but you better come out right now before me and my friend here came after your ourselves!!”.

Yelling into the void as she huffed and waited for some kind of response, the wet sounding footsteps of whatever creature that had spooked Terra stopped rather suddenly, a low, guttural croak of a noise preceding it that made Terra tense up like a pretzel as she clung to Mira’s back as the creature finally came into full view, it’s disgustingly buggy eyes and bumpy green skin almost being comparable to some kind of tiny goblin as it lurched forth.

...........

But I-it was....

......

It was simply a frog......a oversized one, but a run of the mill frog nonetheless.

Terra and Mira unable to help but look at the squat creature for more than a moment without bursting into nervous laughter, Mira had been so prepared to fight what she seemed to think would be the Minotaur of legend that she hadn’t even thought to think that there could be rivers that emptied down into these caves and swept unfortunate creatures like this along with it into the depths of Mt. Ebott.

“O-oh my God! I feel so stupid right now~”, laughing happily as she patted Terra on the back, Mira for a moment was able to forget their tense situation as the frog ‘guarding’ the entryway to the rest of the Ruins gave off a odd noise that almost seemed cat-like, “Anyways, let’s keep going forward. If there are frogs here than that must mean there is a waterfall or something nearby and our best bet will be to see if it leads anywhere promising”.

“Good idea~!”, Terra nodding with a confident smile for once as she went to follow closely behind Mira as they tried to sidestep the frog, the last thing the pair was expecting was for the out of place animal to hop directly in their path once again, Mira raising a brow curiously down at the living obstacle as she tried to side step it once again.

And again, the frog hopped to block their path.

Another try?

The same result, Mira slowly growing frustrated after a few attempts as it was as if the frog was mocking them somehow, her patience wearing thin by the third or fourth time the frog stopped her and Terra’s progress.

“Stop it!!”, Stomping a foot in annoyance as she eventually simply went to pick up the creature in a effort to put it aside so she and Terra could pass, Mira certainly wasn’t expecting for the until now docile creature to rumble loudly and open its small maw, a handful of what seemed to be live, black flies erupting from its throat and swarming directly into Mira’s face as she let out a shrill, panicked scream and dropped the freakish frog in a instant.

“Terra!! Get them off!!”, Crying and shaking her head frantically and running her fingers through her hair as the after mentioned ‘frog’ hopped away in the chaos of Terra attempting to calm her severely entomophobic friend down, the once ‘attempting to be brave’ Mira had been reduced to fat tears rolling down her exhausted face from the shock of the frog creature apparently throwing up nearly a weeks worth of its insect meals out of some terrible form of defense.

Terra whacking the buzzing critters off of Mira the best she could as she than took her turn to tug her friend past the nearby arch and into the oddly similar, still pillared hall beyond, the move was enough to leave Mira’s pest behind but it didn’t stop the terrified girl from clinging onto Terra for a few seconds as she regained her breath and a bit of her composure back as well.

“What -was- that thing!? A-animals don’t just spit up live insects like that! There is -no- way that was just some regular, stupid frog!”, Crossing her arms over her chest as she shook her head and rattled her mind for some kind of logical explanation to what had just happened, Terra didn’t seem to have much of a explanation either, the introvert simply tugging on Mira’s arm gently to urge her to keep going forward.

“I don’t know, but we have to keep moving like you said, okay? The sooner we get out of here the better”, Terra trying to be the calm one between them despite her more than obvious fears as she gave Mira a hopeful look, it seemed to help her agitated friend just enough so that she nodded in response and tried to smile back lightly.

“Y-yeah, the sooner the better....”.

For as much as the wayward and lost pair were afraid, Mira and Terra understood that the chances of anyone actually finding them down here were slim and that it was up to them to find some possible way out of this almost ethereal looking set of rooms and halls they had came across.

As long as they had each other to lean on were surely going to work out in the end.

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

.........

......

The next few hours of navigating mazes, strange, stone based puzzles, and odd traps didn’t exactly go well for the increasingly exhausted and agitated pair of friends, the ‘frog’ they had encountered earlier proving to be just a taste of what this strange, almost Lovecraftian world they had stumbled into held in its narrow and winding halls.

A flying monstrosity that used its acid like tears to scorch and burn away most of Terra’s sleeves when she was lulled into attempting to comfort the ‘saddened’ creature was the first taste the pair had of some of the other dangers wandering about.

Not long after that had been yet another of those ‘frogs’ they had encountered earlier, this one using its long, whip like tongue to snap at Mira painfully though instead of simply sending a wave of irritating flies in her face.

From each of these frightful events the girls put up little actual fight and only chose to dash past them when possible deeper into the Ruins, the thought of actually -killing- any of them not being a thought that really popped up in either of their minds despite the dangers they clearly posed.

Terra herself being too meek to even consider stomping on one of the strangely built creatures that interrupted their progress, Mira meanwhile simply didn’t have it in her heart, her morality being too soft to wish harm on anyone or anything.

By the time the pair of worn out and downtrodden girls had arrived in a off colored, gray room that didn’t resemble the rest of these winding Ruins at all they were both shabby looking and their expressions looked the part of a couple of humans who had dealt with more than their fair share of surprises today, Terra in particular with her shredded and melted sleeves and heavy eyelids looking ready to somehow simply burrow her and Mira to the surface world if she could.

“How much longer do you think we need to go? You would think we would have seen a exit or something by now...”, Mostly talking to herself as her once upbeat voice had lost its sense of wonder about this mysterious yet seemingly maze-like place, Mira was getting sick of the stale air and dusty ground beneath them, her sore feet growing raw and bruised due to possessing no boots to speak of, “If not for those, uh...’things’ that tried to mess with us I would say this was some weird attraction or something...”.

Terra shaking her head as she stopped near a strangely cracked pillar for a breather, she had long since gotten it in her head that this place wasn’t man made unlike Mira who wanted to assume it was some human construction still, “Its not anything like that, that’s for sure. I don’t think anyone would build some weird maze this deep underground, it’s too out of the way”

“Well what else could it be?? Do you think ghosts or something just magically made this all appear one day or something?”, Raising a brow curiously at Terra as she went to go take a spot near her friend and let out a deep sigh, they had been walking for hours now with no sign of a end to these catacombs and naturally needed to relax for a moment.

“W-what? Of -course- not! I just mean...well, these Ruins look pretty old and all so maybe it’s like, some ancient complex or something. Like those etchings on the wall we passed up, those didn’t look like any type of human writing form, did they?”.

“No, I guess not...but still...that doesn’t discount those weird creatures, like that frog and that crying, muppet looking fly that attacked you”, Mira wishing she had done more research on the fauna of cave system biomes like this before making her way down here with their now likely deceased team, the girl sighed as she tugged the frustrated looking Terra close with a hopeful gaze.

“Hey, whatever this place really is doesn’t matter, okay? Pretty soon we will be back home and none of this will matter. I bet Sean and the others even made it back home too!”, Trying to give Terra some much needed determination, the usually reserved girl smiled up at Mira and nodded slightly as the both of them leaned back against the small, out of the way area they had taken temporary shelter in.

Maybe they could get a few minutes rest in before continuing on their seemingly impossible journey back to the surface.....

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

........

~Hello?~’

.........

Mira catching a bit of shut eye as Terra in turn kept her head tucked into her friends chest for warmth, only the latter seemed to stir at the apparent sound of a rather soft, kindly voice waking her from her sleep, Terra opening her eyes confused a crack as she clearly expected that Mira was trying to jostle her awake.

“What’s up? We ready to get moving again?~”, Yawning and stretching her body a bit as she casually glanced around, the last thing Terra was expecting to see was a pair of shaggy, fur covered...uh, legs and hooves standing about four or five feet away from them, a lump growing in Terra’s throat as the larger than life goat-like creature before them gave a wide, happy smile when Terra looked up at the stranger.

“I’m so happy I finally found you, young ones! I was worried you may have gotten yourselves into trouble without proper guidance in these Ruins~”.

“U-uh....”, Terra looking up wide eyed at the thick furred monster as her high pitched voice tried to form words, she merely was able to let out a squeak as she hastily shook Mira awake, her unwary friend groaning and shifting a bit annoyed as Terra practically pushed her over in her urgency.

“What is it? Just a few m-more minutes...”.

“Mira!”, Grunting as she shook the sleepy girl until she finally relented and opened her eyes, the goat monster meanwhile waited oddly patiently, her thickly clawed hands clasped in front of her as if she were waiting for the shock to set in the pair of humans mind that she clearly wasn’t of the same species.

“Well, perhaps I may have been a bit too hasty in introducing myself to you both. I assure you that I mean no harm though~”.

The goat creature taking a step forward as Mira almost instantly, as she had done with Terra before with the frog creature, shuffled the petite girl behind her, the monster seemed to hesitant momentarily as Mira glared daggers through her hide.

“First off, who and what are you?”, Speaking steadily and slow as she tried to make sense of the apparently female monster who never let her wide, almost forced grin off her face, Mira took the moment to observe that the creatures white fur, even on her face, seemed to possess a dirty, rustled look as if she hadn’t bothered to bath it in who knows how long.

Her short, stubby horns, almost buried beneath her long, drooping ears and fur, having the same glistening, polished blackness as her claws and hooves, the monsters eyes shined a brilliant green hue despite the relative darkness of the cavern.

The monsters torn but otherwise clean looking dress reaching her beastly ankles, it was almost as green as her eyes were with a faintly familiar symbol on it that Mira vaguely remembered seeing when her and Terra had first found this odd place, the triple triangles and wings holding no real meaning to the girl as of yet.

“You may call me Toriel, child. I am the caretakers of these Ruins that you two seem to have become intimately familiar with~”, The goat monsters voice almost having a bit of a laughing tone underneath its sweetness, Toriel’s honesty seemed to calm Mira down slightly as the girl softened her stance and allowed Terra to move away from the relative safety of being wedged behind her and the wall, “May I ask your names? I’m not terribly familiar with human customs but it seems only reasonable to avoid referring to you as simply ‘humans’, yes?~”.

“U-uh....yeah...you can call me Mira....this here is Terra...”, Speaking warily as she watched for any sign that this ‘Toriel’ creature was going to turn on her, the goat monster simply kept up her wide grin as she clapped her hands once happily.

“Wonderful!~ Mira and Terra, truly two names that fit together like...like twin snails in a shell!~”, Toriel’s sharp toothed grin almost seemed a bit devilish for a brief moment as Terra blushed and wrinkled her nose at the odd euphemism the strange creature referred to them as.

“So, c-can you tell us exactly what these ‘Ruins’ are at all? I mean, Mira and I had no idea these were even down here until, well...something attacked our base camp and we kinda came across all this...”, Terra glancing at Mira as it to confirm if it was okay to even mention what had gone on back at camp to this still very much a stranger monster, Toriel’s kindly expression shifted a bit at the mention of the humans ‘base’.

“Attacked your base? Are you to say there were other humans besides you both down here?? Have you had contact with them since this happened?”, Toriel’s green eyes dimming a bit in thought as her grin faintly faltered for a moment, Terra and Mira both shook their heads sadly.

“We haven’t seen anyone since it happened. We aren’t ever sure what attacked them....”, Muttering unhappily under her breath as she thought about Sean and the others and the utter fear they must have been feeling if they were somehow still alive, Mira took Toriel’s sympathy to heart as the kindly goat mom didn’t seem to mean any harm and even appeared to be genuinely concerned for their well being, “There were originally six of us just coming down here for some basic research, that’s about it”.

“Oh...well, I see...As much as I wander these ruins I can’t say I have seen any sight of your friends, unfortunately...but seeing as I have at least come across the both of you the least I can do is give you a guiding hand”, Toriel offering one of her massive, clawed paws to whichever of the curious humans wanted to take it, Mira was the first one to be brave enough after a few seconds of hesitation to lay her own, dirt encrusted hand into it as if to show Terra that this creature didn’t seem to want to harm them and could likely be trusted.

“Mira, be careful...”, Terra watching wide eyed as her clearly much braver friend was seemingly trying to assess if Toriel was dangerous or not on her own terms, the goat monster made no move to harm Mira despite having the clear size advantage to do so, her increasingly unnerving grin remaining as she hummed softly and paid Terra no mind.

Toriel merely running one of her thick claws over Mira’s dirty palm slowly as if somewhere in the back of her mind she was grappling with a unwanted thought or two, the silence between the pair was almost defeating for a few seconds as one could likely hear a pin drop if they listened hard enough until Toriel finally spoke up again with a slight chuckle.

“Well, come along young ones. I believe you seem to both be in need of some tender love and care, yes?~”, Offering her other free hand to Terra as the girl politely declined, the rejection seemed to cause Toriel’s until now kind gaze to harden slightly as she wrapped the paw that was holding Mira’s own a bit tighter.

“Please, take my hand, Terra. It’s impolite to reject warranted kindness in monster culture~”.

“Oh no, really, I’m fine, Miss Toriel, I can just follow-“.

“Take. my. Hand”.

The tense but sweet atmosphere being broken by the sudden depth and harshness of Toriel’s shift in tone, Mira let out a light gasp as the grip on her hand tightened for a moment enough to cause her physical pain, Toriel not seeming or not caring enough to notice this as Terra obediently put a shaky hand in the goat monsters outstretched paw immediately.

“See?~ That wasn’t so difficult, now was it? Now, please don’t make me raise my voice again. I simply want to give the both of you a better place to rest than these dingy halls but disobedience like that will not be tolerated, understood?.

Both Mira and Terra reluctantly nodded, the pair of humans seeming to have come to the conclusion separately that this monster was off her rocker a little too late in the game....

“Excellent!~ Now, let’s head home and I can tell you all you wish to know about the Ruins over a delicious slice of Snail Pie and tea~”.

[darlingpetao3]

Seducing the Gem (Nash Wells x Reader, Chapter 8/9)

Rating: M (Smut in Chapter 6 only)

Summary: When a mysterious package shows up at your front door, you (a famous Romance novelist) are hurtled from your virtually uneventful life and into one of danger and adventure. In a quest to save your captured friend Caitlin from impending harm, you run into a suave adventurer named Nash who helps you along the way. Or is the charming Nash simply after something in your possession…?

Tag List: @tardis-23​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @the-marvelatic​ @itsprongs​

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Walking (well, maybe more so stumbling) into the hotel feels surreal. You were meant to be here days ago. Poor Caitlin… You just hope she remains unharmed.

The woman at the front desk hands you the key to your room, which you are now thanking your lucky stars you reserved for multiple days just in case. The room itself is the most basic one the hotel has to offer and you have no qualms whatsoever. It’s a thousand times better than a broken down van.

Immediately, you locate the room’s phone and dig out the number Caitlin gave you to call. This is it. You’re getting your friend back.

“Good afternoon,” greets a smug male voice on the other end.

“Is she alright?” you ask desperately. “Have you hurt her?”

“So, you finally made it.” The voice deflects your question. “Took you long enough. Did you bring the GPS?”

“Yes, I brought it, but I want to speak with Caitlin.”

“I’m afraid I can’t arrange that until I get the goods,” the stranger counters. He sounds like a man with a constant smirk. The kind you would love to smack off his face for what he’s done. “Now, look out the window. You’ll see a barge. Meet me there in two hours. And make sure you’re alone, got it?”

You hang up without so much as an “okay.” You are a ball of stress, worry, and anger. Picking up the hotel phone again, you call the front desk downstairs.

“Hi, I’m just wondering if a man named Nash Wells has checked in at all today?” you ask tentatively.

“No, I’m sorry. No one with this name has checked in.”

Damn.

“Alright, thank you.”

You hang up and speedily clack your fingers on the desk as if that will help rid you of your anxiety. Great, only two hours to let myself go completely insane. Just what I needed.

~

Night has already begun to fall.

You clutch your bag that holds the holographic map in it a little tighter and wander closer towards the docks. You’re so on edge that any small movement or sound throws you off. The kidnapper didn’t give you any direct address, so it was down to your basic sense of direction at this point.

“Over here,” eventually comes a voice from the shadows - the one from the phone call.

You take a few careful steps forward. “Where are you?”

“Don’t move any closer,” they order you. “Show me the GPS.”

“Let me see Caitlin,” you counter.

At long last, you lay eyes on your friend - Caitlin moves out from around the corner looking unkempt, but unharmed. What a relief!

“(Y/N)!”

“Caitlin, it’s going to be okay!” you assure her. Cautiously, you begin to pull out the piece of tech and hold it out in front of you, despite still being unable to see where the man’s voice is coming from.

“Set it down and back away.”

You do as the stranger says. After a beat, he finally reveals himself - a tall man with a buzzcut wearing a trenchcoat. An odd choice of attire for freaking Africa. The man moves towards the device, picking it up to inspect it. He presses the power button, which brings up the illuminated hologram map. He studies it.

The man gives you a sideways smile, then shoves Caitlin into you.

“Better late than never, I guess.”

You hold onto Caitlin for dear life in a long-overdue hug.

“Cait,” you cradle the back of her head, then pull away to search her eyes. “They didn’t hurt you, did they? Because I swear-”

“No, I’m okay,” she assures you, “I promise.”

“Good, then let’s get out of here.” The pair of you probably only make it ten steps away from the drop when you stop in your tracks at the sight in front of you.

Nash appears under the warm light of the streetlamp on the corner.

Your breath is positively stolen from you.

“I missed you at the hotel,” Nash says. “I missed you in general.”

He did come for you.

It’s at this moment that armed men emerge from the shadows to force Nash forward with the tip of their guns. He’d been caught… Then, as if the icing on a grotesque cake, Wade steps into view.

“I should have known you’d be at the end of this wild goose chase, Snart,” Wade says, effectively ignoring you for the time being.

“Eiling? Dammit, you let the government follow you here!” Snart pins on you. Excuse me?

“Cool it, Ice Man. They already have the gemstone,” Wade informs the criminal. Shit. You were hoping to get away without this Snart fellow finding out. A series of growls grow louder as Mick Rory struggles while bound among a pair of additional army men.

“I had it in my hands, Len,” Mick tells his partner. “So beautiful. The colour of fire… And now I feel like a cookout-!”

The pyromaniac fires up his flame-gun but is instantly disarmed. Mick roars in frustration.

Amidst the chaos, Wade turns his narrowed eyes to you. It still feels as if this is all some insane dream or scene you’ve written while drunk on your hot chocolate.

“What is it, Missy?” he asks you. “Got something to share with the class? Where is it?”

Nash squints at you - a signal.

“What, the stone?” you play dumb. “We never found anything. The spot was empty.”

“Nice try. Why don’t we see if our little friend can shake the truth out of you?” Wade and his weapon-toting entourage lead you, Caitlin, Nash, and the Fire and Ice gang into one of the warehouses running parallel with the water. There’s a loud rustling in the darkness, followed by heavy breathing. It isn’t until someone switches on the shoddy lights in the room that you spot it - a cage holding an enormous gorilla and her baby.

The mother ape shakes the metal bars and screams, only to have Wade laugh at her failure. He taunts the poor creatures, and when you show the slightest bit of discomfort, the general pushes you closer and closer to the cage.

The ape roars in your face, or maybe it’s directed at Wade’s, so vehemently that her saliva ends up on your face.

Remain. Calm.

“Let her go, okay? Enough!” Nash raises his voice. “I have it. I have the stone.”

“Tell me where!” Wade demands, still clutching you forcefully.

“It’s in a safe place.”

“Out with it, Wells!”

The gorilla bellows in her cage once again at the commotion between the humans. Wade cues a gesture to one of his men, who proceeds to hit Nash in the nether region with the butt of his rifle. There’s a clunk sound.

You don’t remember him having a literal… ahem of steel.

Nash tries to recover, but something is off. He shakes his leg and wiggles around a bit as if he’s performing some bizarre dance. But soon enough, you all witness it - the gem falls out the leg of his pants and onto the ground.

The room goes silent.

“I promise I was still extremely happy to see you, Princess,” the adventurer jokes.

You snort loudly, despite the time and place.

And then, all hell breaks loose.

Nash kicks the stone over to an open space for you to launch after it, but Wade beats you to it. With the gleaming red beauty in his hand, all other sides in this battle seem to have lost. But suddenly, the mother gorilla violently grasps the general’s arm and yanks it around, causing him to drop his precious treasure.

Gunshots are everywhere, mostly used as a scare tactic, you decipher. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the baby gorilla manages to squeeze out through the cage’s bars and picks up the stone in his hands. It doesn’t take long for him to take off outside, and you know you can’t just let him get away.

“Nash, hold them off!” you tell your partner, who at once removes a gun tucked away behind him.

“As you wish, Princess!”

You make a break for it, following the ape with Caitlin in tow (she is not leaving your side ever again). He’s a quick little fella, even as he scuttles up the back stairs of the building leading to the roof. By the time you reach the top, you’re a smidge out of breath, but find the animal on the ledge opposite you.

Step by step, you slowly make your way towards him. His tiny black eyes watch you the whole time, that is, until you make it a foot away from him. In which case, they dart behind you. You turn warily, finding that damned bastard Wade, forcing Caitlin and now yourself even closer to the ledge than you’d intended.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” he says pointing his gun at you.

“Or we can do it my way,” you counter as a bluff. Think fast.

Wade fires a shot into the air. A startled Caitlin slips on the edge in confusion.

“NO!” You let out as a horrified yell, watching her fall over the side. However, a speedy swoosh of flames flies downwards at an incredible speed. Caitlin’s screams stop, and you don’t want to look.

What was that?!

You aren’t able to question it too long, though, because Wade has you in his terrifying grasp once more.

“Let go of me,” you growl, trying to wrench your arm free. There’s a screech, and the next thing you know, the young gorilla scrambles up your captor’s leg and chomps on his hand.

“Aaarrrghh!” Wade recoils and backs off a safe distance, clutching his wound. “You little shit.” The creature laughs and climbs to sit on your shoulder in a protective action.

A bright glow illuminates from behind - and you scrunch up your eyes to get a better look at what seems to be hovering with Caitlin in its arms. It looks like… a man? A burning man?

This phenomenal being releases your friend with a familiar gentleness. Oh my God, it can’t be...

“I thought I killed you!” Wade shouts at the burning man.

“You thought wrong,” he replies.

“I won’t make the same mistake.” He raises his gun, and you can see his finger begin to press the trigger, but a bulldozer of black fur barrels in his direction from the rooftop entrance. Mama Gorilla, in all her loud ferocity, jumps on and disarms Wade. The wild animal shakes him around like a G.I. Joe action figure, and ultimately jumps across to the next building’s roof. And the next. And the next, until eventually they’re both out of sight.

Everyone remains speechless.

The one to break the silence is Nash, who now sprints up the stairs onto the roof, bolting towards you. His hands find your arm and waist.

“Are you okay?” he checks.

“I’m okay. You?”

Nash exhales. “Still here.”

You maybe only have a brief moment to collect your thoughts and relax before Caitlin shrieks, setting you to red alert again. You whip your head in her direction to find the man who was previously in flames splitting into two people.

“Ronnie!” Caitlin exclaims, throwing her arms around her fiancé’s neck. It really is him…?

“Ronnie? How are you alive?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Martin?” Nash says warily to the other bespectacled, white-haired man who has seemingly appeared out of thin air. The two hug it out happily.

“It’s all thanks to Professor Stein,” Ronnie explains. “Remember that highly classified internship I took, Cait?” Your friend nods slowly in response, also obviously stunned by this nearly impossible scene. “It was an experiment-

“-Fusion, Ignition, Research Experiment and Science of Transmutation Originating RNA and Molecular Structures,” Martin Stein clarifies for you all.

“And I was a match.”

“But why did you send me the GPS?” you ask him the question that had been eating away at you since the beginning of this whole crazed debacle.

“Because Professor Stein needed to hide it, and the government was already hot on our trail with the F.I.R.E.S.T.O.R.M. experiment, which wasn’t exactly given the go-ahead. But I mean, can you imagine the US military getting their hands on the means to locate highly dangerous gemstones with mystical powers?”

You file that premise away in your mind for potential novel material.

“It hasn’t been the first time the government has stolen my work from me,” Martin adds bitterly.

“But I knew it would be safe with you, (Y/N),” Ronnie continues. “We couldn’t have it falling into the wrong hands.” It’s wild to believe that one piece of mail could change your life forever.

“But Ronnie,” Caitlin speaks up, still verging on joyful tears, “I thought you were dead. They told me you were dead.”

“We had to make it seem that way, Caity. I’m so, so sorry.” The couple shares another tender embrace.

“In the meantime, however,” Martin says, turning to Nash, “as we assumed our false demise, Ronald and I nearly finished the Trans-Dimensional Navigation System.”

“You’re… you’re serious?” Nash laughs like he can’t believe his ears. Truly ecstatic. You wonder what this means.

“Yes. We just need the final elemental piece of dark matter found within the gem’s ore for the project to be fully operational. Did you find what you were looking for out here?”

“I found more,” Nash says, turning to you. You blush fiercely. The roof falls quiet.

“Alright… well, we’re all here, we’re all okay,” you confirm. “So- wait. Where’s the little guy? He had the gem last. Where’d he go?”

As if he heard you, the baby gorilla calls out from down below. Each one of you rushes to the building’s edge to peer down - the ape bounces up and down on a boat motoring away. A flash red reflects off the moonlit water. Two sets of men’s laughter fade into the night.

“Quick, go inside him and fly over there!” you tell the fiery duo.

“Oh, Princess, you had to have heard that one,” Nash bumps playfully into your side. The two men attempt their merge, but nothing happens. Ronnie and Martin glance at each other, then try again.

Nothing.

“Why isn’t this working?” Ronnie wonders aloud.

“I’m embarrassed to say I can’t think of a probable theory as to why…” Martin replies. He doesn’t strike you as a man who is often confused. The more time they take to keep attempting to merge, the further the gorilla sails away on the getaway boat.

“I can’t see the boat anymore,” you note at the solid blackness of the water.

“I’ll find him,” Nash announces. He takes you by the waist so suddenly, your hand presses to his chest to steady yourself. “I’ll find him and the stone, and I’ll come back for you.” Your breath is momentarily caught in your throat.

“How can I be sure you will?” You bite your lip, trying not to tie all your hopes to this wild man.

“Because our adventures together are far from over.”

Despite his words, Nash kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you again. Deep, firm, and lingering. You wish it would linger forever on your lips.

As he unholsters his grappling hook gun, he gives you one last brush of his fingers against your cheek. You want to tell him something bubbling up inside you, but before you can decide whether or not you should, Nash shoots you a wink and zip lines down to the ground to commandeer a stray boat.

You stay on that roof until after your adventurer is no longer in sight.

You stay on that roof until after the sound of the motor is gone.

You stay on that roof until you admit to yourself that you’ve fallen head over heels in love with an extraordinary, fearless, flying-by-the-seat-of-his-pants man.

This kind of love doesn’t just happen in the pages of your novels anymore.

You’re living it.

[legendofzeldaalinktothepast]

Cuspids - Chapter 1

Fandom - Hannibal 

Relationship - Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter 

Rating - M (violence in future chapters) 

Next Chapter 

Werewolf/Vampire AU. 

“Will Graham, an introverted high school biology teacher, has been feeling rather isolated. Maybe it's his neurodivergence, or his deteriorating mental health; or maybe it's the fact that he turns into a bloodthirsty werewolf every full moon. Fortunately for Will, Dr. Hannibal Lecter understands exactly where he's coming from.” 

Will dropped his pen against the desk with a sigh and buried his face into his hands. Nearly an hour had passed since the students left the school, and he’d barely made a dent in the stack of papers he needed to grade… Any other day, he’d be nearly finished; yet on this particular afternoon, focusing was next to impossible. 

He knew why his mind wasn’t all in the right place, too, which somehow made it all the more frustrating; it was the afternoon before a full moon. His transformation only began as the sun set, and his full form reared its ugly head the precise moment the full moon was visible in the sky... But in the daylight hours beforehand, weakness would overtake his body. 

His skin would prickle, as if preparing for the thick fur that would burst from his flesh... And the hunger was unbearable. Nothing he ate would satisfy him -- nothing but the fresh prey that he’d kill with his own fangs, but that obviously wasn’t something he could eat in a teacher’s lounge. 

"Will?"

Will flinched in surprise as he spotted Jack in the doorway. He hadn't heard his footsteps in the hallway, or even noticed he’d opened the door.

At seeing his reaction, Jack's already-concerned expression only deepened. "I need to talk to you about something."

"May I recover from my heart attack, first?" Will said with a sigh, taking a sip from his water bottle. Taking a deep breath, he leaned back in his chair. “Alright, lecture away.”

"I’m not here to lecture you." Jack said, pulling up a chair and seating himself on the opposite end of Will’s desk. In response, he turned his gaze back down to his stack of paperwork. Eye contact simply wasn’t one of Will’s qualities, which Jack had come to understand, and he'd learned to distinguish when Will was listening and when he was flat out ignoring him. This time, fortunately, he knew it was the former.

“So what’s on your mind?” Will said, tapping the paper with his pen.

"I think I should be the one asking you that." Jack said with a slight smile. "I'm talking to you about this in private so it won't feel like an intervention. You haven't been yourself lately."

Will rolled his eyes without thinking. ’It sure feels like an intervention.’

"...And I understand why you refuse to seek therapy, and that your personal life and well being are not my business." Jack continued, biting back the urge to scold Will for rolling his eyes at him. "But Will, students are starting to notice. Some have come to me with genuine concern, others crack jokes in the hallway.”

"I’m a teacher, Jack. They're going to crack jokes about me no matter how mentally well I am." Will sighed.

"Yes, but this isn’t about jokes,” Jack began, “It’s about you; you’re zoning out during lessons and calling off every other week. And once the students start noticing, that’s a sign you need to get yourself a therapist.”

Will tightened his grip on his pen. He knew it was coming, but that T word simply made the hairs on his spine prickle. "I'd rather eat the gum from under the cafeteria tables."

"Will." Jack glared at him; his patience was clearly thinning the longer this conversation went on. "If you won't see a therapist... I’m asking at the very least that you talk to someone.”

"I'm talking to someone right now." Will joked.

"I mean Dr. Lecter."

Will glanced up from his papers, raising an eyebrow. "You want me to talk about my problems to a high school counselor?"

"As far as I'm concerned, he has the degree required to figure out what the hell is going on with you." Jack said. "I'm not doing this to make you uncomfortable, Will... I wouldn't be doing this if I was the only one concerned. But even Freddie has started worrying about you."

Will dropped his pen. “Damn, seriously? Even I’ll admit that’s concerning.” he said with a laugh.

"Exactly. Now, I know I can't force you to do anything..." Jack said, rising back to his feet. "But if you know what's good for you, you'll either see a psychiatrist or at bare minimum talk to Dr. Lecter."

"If it'll help you sleep at night, I'll have a conversation with him tomorrow during lunch." Will said.

Jack smiled. It had been a while since Will had seen him so genuinely pleased with him, and he couldn’t help feeling slightly relieved. “Yes, I’ll sleep very well tonight knowing that.” he said.

"Alrighty then." Will said. "Anything else on your mind, or am I free to get back to work?”

"I won’t disrupt you again." Jack said with a nod, and pulled the door shut behind himself. 

* 

"Soup's on, guys!" Will announced, and the horde of dogs scampered straight into the kitchen.

”Food! Food!” the dogs barked.

He placed six bowls down on the rubber place mats, each filled with dog food he'd prepared from scratch. As he watched the dogs dig in, Will felt his own hunger growing more intense. He tapped his nails against the kitchen counter, peering outside at the sunset; the sky hadn't darkened quite enough yet, but as the hair on his body thickened, and his sharpening canines pressed against his tongue, he knew the full moon would be out any minute, now.

Will glanced back at the dogs one last time, and then made his way towards the back door. “I’m gonna head out, now. Watch over the house for me.” he said.

”Be safe, Will!” Winston said.

”Bring me home a rabbit!” Buster barked, wagging his tail.

“Can’t make any promises, but I’ll try." Will chuckled.

As he stepped outside, he gazed into the vast woods just beyond his back yard. He took in the scents of the forest; mostly squirrels, mice, birds, a rabbit or two... Certainly not enough to nourish a fully transformed werewolf, but thankfully, he had the whole night to hunt down more substantial prey.

The chilly night air ruffled his fur. As the sky darkened, Will sank down to all fours and lurked into the darkness. 

* 

The school bell rang, grating against Will’s sleep deprived head, and he rubbed at his ears with his knuckles.

“No homework tonight, but try to review pages 105 through 115.” he said as the students filed out, rubbing his eyes.

As the classroom emptied, Will grabbed his water bottle and headed for the door; Jack passed him in the hallway, giving him a look that said “You better be going to Dr. Lecter’s office”, and Will responded with an eye-roll that said “Yeah, yeah, get off my ass already.”

Will walked against the current of noisy teenagers heading for the cafeteria, apologizing as he bumped into someone here and there. The mere thought of eating lunch nauseated him; after his monthly transformation and hunt, he’d scarfed down enough meat to hold him off for the next week.

Soon enough, he’d reached the office, and he gave a brief knock on the glass window.

The door immediately opened, as if Hannibal had been waiting for him. ’Weirdo.’

“Good afternoon, Mr. Graham.” Hannibal greeted with a polite nod. “Come in and have a seat.”

Will cautiously made his way into the office, seating himself in the leather chair across from Hannibal’s desk. On it was a wooden name tag that read “Dr. Hannibal Lecter”; there were a couple framed photographs and a single potted plant. In the center of the desk was a graphite drawing, though due to the dim lighting of the office, Will couldn’t see it very well.

“So, what would you like to talk about today?” Hannibal asked, sitting himself down in his rolling chair and placing his folded hands on his desk.

“Well, guess I’ll set something straight first.” Will said. “I told Jack I didn’t want to see a therapist. So… please don’t treat me like I’m your patient.”

“I had no intention of doing so.” Hannibal chuckled. “Jack told me you weren’t comfortable being a patient. We’re simply talking as coworkers; even friends, if that’s what you’d like.”

Will adjusted his glasses. “That’s what I’d hoped.” he said.

A silence filled the room; Hannibal watched Will expectantly as he bounced his leg, and once he realized Will wasn’t going to speak first, he decided to take the lead. “What is your life like outside of work, Will?”

Will tapped his fingernails against the arm rest. “I go home, take care of my dogs, sleep.” ’And once a month I turn into a vicious bloodthirsty canine that attacks everything in its line of sight.’

“Is that all?”

“More or less.”

“Well, that’s a start. It doesn’t sound like a very enriching lifestyle.” Hannibal said. As he spoke, he reached for a graphite pencil, turning his attention down to the drawing on his desk.

Will shrugged. “Maybe, but not the reason I’m here. Lately I’ve been… zoning out. Struggling to stay awake in class, not grading assignments on time. Jack told me students are starting to notice.”

“Maybe so, but there could be a correlation between the two.” Hannibal said, reaching for a pencil sharpener. “Humans are social creatures. Dogs can fulfill some of our needs, and so can the individuals we work with, but I have a feeling talking with people outside of a work environment would do you some good.”

“That’s technically what I’m doing now. I’m on my lunch break.” Will snorted.

Hannibal smiled. “That is true. And since I’m not your therapist, I suppose this counts.”

“Are you certain?” Will asked. “Or are you saying that just to make me more comfortable?”

“A therapist would not draw during a session with a patient.” Hannibal said, gesturing to the drawing in front of him. “I also cannot, ethically, be your therapist, considering we work in the same building.”

“Alright, fair enough.” Will said. “So… What do you do outside of work?”

“I spend time with my daughter. She’s one of your students; Abigail Hobbs.” Hannibal said. Will took a moment to place the name to a face; if he remembered correctly, she was a rather quiet girl from his third period. Dark hair, freckles, always wearing a scarf.

“Yes, I know Abigail. No kids for me, though.” Will said, though his dogs might as well have been his children. Especially on the nights where he transformed and his grasp on human language would fog over, replacing itself with the barks and growls only fellow canines would understand.

“Not everyone is ready for children. I adopted her very recently, and even at the age of seventeen, she can be a handful at times.” Hannibal sharpened his pencil as he spoke, the shavings dropping into a pile beside his canvas. He then brushed them into the trash can… One by one, meticulously. “I may seem like a bit of a hypocrite for telling you to socialize more… Seeing as I don’t leave my house nearly as much as I should, either.”

“Most doctors can’t practice what they preach.” Will said with a shrug. “I doubt my dentist flosses three times a day.”

Hannibal chuckled. “That is true.” he said. “By the way… Jack told me you were coming here on your lunch break. You’re free to eat in here in my office, but make sure to clean up any mess.”

“I don’t have one today. I’ve been feeling nauseous.” Will said; it wasn’t a lie, after all.

Hannibal smiled a bit, a slightly knowing expression in his eyes, but Will wasn’t quite sure why. “Well, I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks. I'll be fine.” Will said. He glanced at the time on his watch; fifteen minutes left until lunch was over. He knew he should stay and chat more, since he hadn’t really gotten anything out of this forced conversation… But he also hadn't expected to, and he never promised Jack he’d stay for the whole lunch period. Besides, he had a lot of papers to catch up on.

“Anyway, it was nice talking to you.” Will said, pulling himself to his feet. “But I think I've said just about all I needed to. At least for today. But I'll probably be back tomorrow, because Jack will absolutely nag me if I don't.”

Hannibal smiled. “I look forward to seeing you again." he said.

As Will made his way out, Hannibal pulled out a notepad from beneath his canvas. He jotted something down as a reminder to himself, and then slipped it back into place.

[fanfic-scribbles]

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Nineteen

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts: Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 19: Twelve Strikes

Chapter Summary: Honestly, New Year’s Eve is usually mostly uneventful for most people. Usually. Mostly. For most people.

Chapter Word Count: 5380

A/N: This chapter was kind of fun and I hope you enjoy it. I really hope you enjoy it actually because while I know sort of how I want the next chapter to be I have no idea how it’s going to go, so an update might take a little longer. Also, just housekeeping news: I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I decided to make this story a series. Part one is this, the getting together. Part two is tentatively titled “Dinner Date” and it’s pretty much going to be the cute couple shit I’ve been wanting to write. I haven’t decided how yet I want to organize it, whether I’ll just be adding a new section to the LB masterlist or making a new post and linking it. I’ll let you know by next chapter as it will be the last one for this story before I start the next.

Anyways, please enjoy!

  ~

 This was a bad, bad, bad idea. Me, alcohol, Steve, Steve’s friends, Steve, Steve in a tux, me, alcohol–

“Are you hiding already?”

I almost leaped out of my skin, but Sam just laughed at me. Jerk. But I hugged him because it was good to see him. And, if I was being honest, it was literally good to see him– Sam was a beautiful man and looked no less in his dark blue suit. However when I hugged him I was fine and normal. Why couldn’t I just appreciate Steve as an objectively beautiful man the way I could appreciate any of his friends as objectively beautiful people?

Although Natasha was so stunning in her long glittery black dress that I had run to the bar so I’d have an excuse not to babble “you pretty lady” at her like the caveman I was. So maybe I was just a mess.

“I’m just– getting a drink,” I said and gestured, only to accidentally hit the glass and scramble to keep it from sliding right off the ridiculously smooth and utterly unblemished “wood” counter. That’s what the whole place felt like actually– bright and shiny with nary an imperfection to grab onto.

“You okay?” Sam asked and leaned against the bar. His body blocked me from a happily chattering couple just as they made it to the space next to us, and I tried to calm the fuck down. Steve invited me, I got in just as easily as anybody, it was fine; I was fine.

“I’m okay. Can’t remember the last time I went to an actual party but other than that.” I picked up my drink but it was already almost gone so I put it right back down. Even if I wasn’t trying to monitor my alcohol intake that would have been worrisome. I breathed. I was here and I (and everyone else) was going to have to deal with it.

“Yeah, it’s not really my scene either, but.” He shrugged and smiled. “It’s New Year’s Eve; why not live it up a little?”

Said the man who looked like he belonged here. “I guess,” I said and looked around. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to see Steve or avoid him.

Sam motioned for a bartender and made a few smooth hand gestures that got me a refill and him a copy of my drink. He took a sip, paused, and then raised both eyebrows at me.

“Don’t you judge me,” I said and sank closer to my cup. “Steve promised good alcohol. And this isn’t even the top shelf.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s all top shelf. But I wasn’t going to say anything.” He pushed away from the bar. “Come on; you found the best thing about Tony’s parties and now I’m going to show you the second best thing about them.”

That did make me perk up. “The food?”

Sam grinned. “The food.”

~

Second best had yet to be claimed, as first place was a tie.

“Do you think they’ll miss it if I just steal the whole tray?” I asked, staring at the waiter walking around with the really good wraps. I didn’t know what the hell was in them but I didn’t care. If I ended up poisoned later I would have no regrets.

“Thor’s done that before,” Darcy said. “It was awesome.”

Jane’s expression told me why Darcy used past tense. Too bad, but I could tell why he would have towed the line. Darcy (“Avengers wrangler extraordinaire”) and Jane (astrophysicist and Thor’s partner) were kind, smart, beautiful, and fun. That guy kept really good company.

“I think Steve’s done it too,” Sam said. “At least once.”

“Hm.” The tray was getting low, so I looked around the room for another one to pick at. “Do you think if I say I’m eating Steve’s share they’ll just hand it over?”

“What am I sharing?”

I took a moment to, again, chill the fuck out, and then I turned to look at Steve. Somehow it was easier to see him all put-together in a suit now than it had been the night he had shown up all disheveled, but he still looked stupid handsome in straight black and combed hair.

“I’m going to eat all the food on your behalf,” I said and swatted at his stomach. Lightly, because I wasn’t a jerk (and otherwise I would have just hurt my hand). “I’m helping you watch your waistline.”

“I've seen how much Steve eats,” Natasha said, coming around him and somehow making Steve look boring with her dark red matte lips, sparkling chandelier-like earrings, and flawlessly fitting gown. She smiled at me and raised a single perfect eyebrow. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Would you like some?” I asked her. “I’ll share. Just not with Steve; he owes me, like, at least three more grocery bags of snacks.”

“So much for hospitality,” Steve said. He sounded like he was trying to be flat but the smile he couldn’t wrestle off his face fucked that up. But it was a good thing. “If I give you all my food here are we even?”

I thought about it. “The food is pretty good…”

He laughed and opened his arms, and I went in for the hug. When he squeezed me my heart did a happy little somersault and I briefly considered letting him break it. Any more of this and I would have small woodland creatures following me pretty soon. Talk about a dead giveaway. “Easy, easy,” I said and tried to straighten up. “I have delicate alcohol here.”

“Oh, right; I forgot about what’s really important,” Steve said, still smiling widely as we parted.

“I’ve got priorities,” I said and took a sip. “Alcohol, you.”

“I come before food?”

I had to think about it. “Alcohol slash food, you.”

“I come before–”

“Take a fucking compliment Steve,” I said and downed the rest of my drink. A few of his friends laughed and I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

“If only,” a new person said. A beautiful blonde woman who had somehow sidled up right between Steve and Natasha without me noticing. Without Steve noticing too, by the way he jolted. But he looked delighted to see her. “Sharon,” he said and hugged her carefully to keep her full flute of champagne from spilling over her ash grey silky smooth dress. For fuck’s sake; could Steve have one friend who didn’t look like a goddamn model?

When Steve turned to introduce us I realized, oh yeah, that was me. My glass was far too empty but I swallowed back the bitterness on my own. Sharon was very sweet and had no problem turning her attention away from Steve to properly greet me. Unlike the people starting to gather and gawk.

“That’s a lovely bracelet,” Sharon said. “May I see?”

“Sure,” I said, feeling my mood lift at the mention. She and Natasha admired it. As well they should have.

“It’s beautiful,” Natasha said. “Where did you get it?”

“Um…” I looked around at all the strangers, some of whom were trying to sneak in closer to Steve– who looked a little uncomfortable while some woman chatted him up. I decided to play it safe and said, “A friend gave it to me for Christmas.” Hopefully my smile didn’t look as big as it felt.

“A friend?” Sharon pressed.

“A very good friend,” I said.

She tilted her head and smiled like we were in on something together. I wished I knew what it was. “Are you sure they’re just a friend? That’s a pretty special m–”

“Hey, do you want me to go get you another drink?” Steve asked me.

I was sort of relieved Steve stomped on the conversation at that point because I was just going to be miserable if we tread that road too far. However I couldn’t believe what he was asking me; he must have been desperate to escape his conversation. “Do you have any idea what I’m drinking?”

“I can guess,” he said, which…he never drank, so how… “Fine; then come with me?”

I looked at Sharon who was seemingly unbothered by the interruption. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, it was nice to meet you,” I said and Steve, acting the perfect gentleman, gave me his arm to hang onto while we made our way through the crowd. Hanging onto Steve, good alcohol, his friends being nice and not looking at me twice; I actually felt…okay.

“Are you having a good time?” Steve asked, sounding hopeful.

“Did you see that? I had a perfectly normal conversation with another human being,” I said proudly.

“You’re doing very well.”

I jumped as Natasha came up and took his other arm. “Hello again Natasha,” Steve said, sounding annoyed. Apparently he didn’t like her sudden appearing act either.

“You're not the only one wanting the bar, Steve,” she told him. She then looked past him to smile at me. She did ‘reassuring’ shockingly well. Well, she was a spy; she could probably do anything she wanted. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks,” I said. “You look gorgeous, by the way.”

She batted her hand at me, but it was her coquettish smile that made me laugh. “Be careful with complements like that, or I’ll steal you from Steve so I can hear them more often.”

It might have been a joke, but a woman like Natasha was so beautiful maybe people just assumed she knew. “You should hear it more often,” I said sincerely.

Natasha’s smile smoothed out– in a good way, I thought. She gripped Steve’s arm hard enough to make him flinch. “I’m glad you got yourself someone with sense,” she said and slipped away just as we got to the counter.

“It’s a little sad you make me look sensible by comparison,” I said and ordered another drink for me, and something for Steve to try.

“It’s a low bar,” Steve admitted and put his arm around behind me. It was just because the space was crowded, but it felt so nice. When the drinks were delivered I grabbed mine with one hand and slid Steve’s over to him with the other. “Am I carrying your drinks now?” he asked.

I elbowed him and looked around for one of the less-populated areas of the room I had scoped out earlier. “I think you’ll like the taste of it,” I said and grabbed the edge of Steve’s jacket to lead him. “Come on; let’s go catch our breath.”

He didn’t complain then; he just followed along.

“Captain Rogers!”

Or tried to.

A woman (beautiful, of course) with wavy blond hair came right up to him– and I got my first red flag when Steve tensed up. I got my second red flag in flashing lights when she practically shoved in between us. Had I stayed where I was it would have been literal, but I managed to save my dress and drink from combining. And, when she failed to apologize (or even acknowledge my existence) I considered turning my glass up over her head. Instead I took a sip to quell the growing rage and glared daggers at her perfectly-made-up head.

“Hello,” Steve said and looked at me. I lifted my cup and mimed dumping it on her. It got a smile, at least.

“It’s so good to see you again; I missed you at the last party,” she said and gave me an aneurysm when she wrapped her arms around his arm. Steve tugged but man, she had him worse than a boa constrictor. It was almost admirable, if I didn’t want so badly to take some hairspray and a lighter to get her off.

I took another drink. ‘Down girl; he isn’t yours,’ I told myself. It didn’t do much.

“I wasn’t at the last party,” Steve said, looking at me and drawing her attention.

I got my polite face on just before she turned her head my way. She sized me up and I stared at her. Yeah, pretty, sure. But Sharon was prettier. And nicer. “Hello,” Handsy said, perfectly icy. “Do you need something?”

‘Yeah– for you to fuck off,’ I thought. “Oh, I’m just waiting for Steve,” I said and smiled. It felt bland and fake and I didn’t care if it looked it.

“Well, we’re going to be a while,” she said even though Steve’s face clearly said that no, no they weren't.

“That’s fine; I’ll wait!” I said, a little more chipper than I wanted but, fuck it, she was pissing me off. She glared at me, so at least the feeling was mutual.

“STEVEN!”

We both jumped and Steve took the chance to extract himself from Handsy’s grip. “Thor!” he said and the two of them gave (and therefore received) hugs that looked like they would crack lesser spines. Wow Thor was even bigger than I thought he would be. Objectively he wasn’t that much bigger than Steve, but it felt like he filled the room. It was a little intimidating. But Handsy smiled patiently, and she was the reason I stayed close by– I didn’t want to risk leaving Steve alone with her.

“I want you to meet someone, actually,” Steve said and that was all the warning I got before Steve reached around Handsy to grab me and pull me in front of him so he could introduce me to Thor, Thor to me.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Thor said and shook my hand with very measured strength. It was easy to forget that Steve was strong, but I had a feeling you couldn’t forget it with this guy. “I’ve heard many good things.”

That sounded a little rehearsed, so maybe he was nervous and awkward too? I ran with it. “Likewise,” I said, because it was polite, and also true. Steve really respected and liked Thor and I wanted to make a good impression. I just didn’t know what to say. “I, uh, met Jane and Darcy earlier.”

He brightened at the mere mention. “Are they not wonderful?”

“They’re great,” I said and (only partly joking) added, “You’re a lucky guy; you must have done something pretty good to deserve them.”

Thor froze.

I froze too and started a chorus of ‘shit shit shit shit shit’ in my head. However I didn’t get a chance to even plan my apology before he let out a loud laugh that made me jump. “Oh, I am sorry!” he said and put his other hand on my arm. “It is true, but I did not expect to hear it from you.”

Weird, but I had the good sense not to say so. I was still coming down from the almost fuck-up so I missed what Steve said, but when Thor enthusiastically responded with a flurry of words that were unrecognizable despite being in a mostly-English sentence, I stepped back to let them geek out. Some people were coming and I really did need a breather, so I waited for Steve to look at me. When he did I held up one index finger, he nodded, and then he put his arm around Thor to lead him in one direction while I went the other.

The gaggle followed them. Or maybe people simply went in that general direction, I couldn’t tell and didn’t really care. I got to a little offset spot where the walls met awkwardly and took a few minutes for myself. I spent most of that time staring at a dark-haired woman who went between Steve and Natasha and I wondered if I had met her yet. She looked familiar but maybe she wasn’t? This was frustrating.

Handsy showed up again just as I was thinking about going back to the bar for some water. “So,” she said, still smiling politely but without even trying to introduce herself. ‘Handsy’ it was then. “How did you meet Captain Rogers?”

Trying to reconcile Steve with the image conjured by “Captain Rogers” caused a cognitive dissonance so strong I nearly had to physically shake it out of my head. “Oh, um…we met at a coffee shop we both happened to be at. Became friends.”

She waited for a few seconds, but since it wasn’t really her business I didn’t go on. “How cute,” she said blithely and smoothed out her dress. Admittedly she did cut a lovely figure in it. “The captain and I met at one of Stark’s parties a while back. We really hit it off.”

“That’s nice.” Thankfully I caught sight of Pepper heading my way so I straightened up at the prospect of a distraction.

Handsy turned to face her too and while I couldn’t see the look on her face, the high-pitched (super fucking fake) excited squeal of Pepper’s name from her mouth and look of absolutely strained politeness on Pepper’s face made me want to merge with the wall to avoid what was almost certainly going to involve bloodshed. But they hugged and, though stiff, they miraculously came out of it with all eyes and limbs intact.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but if you don’t mind,” Pepper said and gestured at me.

“Oh, of course; it was lovely to see you,” Handsy said.

And then left.

I gawked and when Pepper said my name in a tone of “what’s wrong” I wanted to ask her what the hell that was– in a polite, reasonable way befitting an adult who got invited to a Very Fancy Party– but what came out of my mouth was, “I thought you two were going to fight.”

I glared at my drink in betrayal, but I was so unaffected that it wasn’t even funny so the glass was just a convenient scapegoat. Pepper laughed at least– and smiled to show teeth. “It wouldn’t have been much of a fight.”

I laughed. And then, because I was a (mostly) functioning adult: “Thank you for letting me tag along on Steve’s invite; I appreciate it.”

“‘Letting you’ nothing; I’m glad Steve finally got you to come to one of these,” Pepper said. “How are you doing?”

“I’m all right; taking a breather,” I said. The dark-haired lady was talking to Jane now. “I’m trying to remember names now before I wade back in.”

Pepper nodded. “That’s Maria Hill.”

“Oh thank god, I don’t think I’ve met her yet.” I then realized Pepper was hosting (mostly, I thought; Stark was being loud elsewhere so maybe it was a two-pronged approach) and I looked her over. She looked perfect, but still. “How are you? It must be tiring.”

“Oh, a little.” She waved a hand carelessly. “It gets easier.”

“That’s good,” I said. And had nothing else. I looked around but the bar was busy– Plan B then. “I should go find Steve so he doesn’t think I ditched him.”

“I think I saw him at that end of the bar,” Pepper said and gestured to one of the crowds, because of course. As she motioned though, she saw someone she knew and waved.

“Thanks Pepper. I’ll track him down,” I said as the other person brought his partner over to say hi. Well, that was one hiding place completely ruined. Hopefully the others were all right.

“If you have any problems, just come find me,” she said and went to greet her friend with actual joy and excitement. That was a nice offer that I absolutely wasn’t going to take her up on. I could handle a crowd of people and bitchy partygoers. Weddings were way worse than this scene. So I shored up and went to the place where Steve apparently was. Which he was– in the middle of a crowd of people who had gathered around to listen to Thor tell a story.

I didn’t even try to nudge my way in. I made a trip to the bathroom, snagged a new drink from a small open spot at the bar, and went over to the food table. Natasha and Phil Coulson were talking to their friend (Maria). They looked up when I got closer and I nodded, trying to be unobtrusive as I grabbed a little crostini-thing with some stuff on top of it, but they turned to face me and I stopped before I even got the thing to my mouth. “Uh…” I said, looking at all of them. I lowered the hors d’oeuvre. “Sorry; I didn’t mean to…intrude?”

“You didn’t,” Phil said and extended his hand. I had a drink in one hand and food in the other, and nowhere to put the food. So I shoved it in my mouth, switched the glass to my food-tainted fingers, and shook his hand while I chewed like I was trying to take a prize at an eating contest. Not easy with how crunchy it was but it was good, at least.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said like I hadn’t just done a disaster dance right in front of him. Nice man.

I swallowed. “And in a better situation,” I said, trying to pretend at dignity.

Natasha said my name and then introduced me and Maria Hill to each other. She added, to me, like she was telling me a funny secret, “Don’t worry; she doesn’t bite.” Natasha even winked. Wow; who knew a woman that gorgeous could also be such a fucking dork? I was a little in love.

“Oh Natasha, don’t lie to her like that,” Maria said and very obviously scoped me out. Honestly, I might not have minded the biting. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

‘Finally?’ What the hell was Steve saying about me? “Uh–”

“Ooo, is this a new spy induction ceremony?”

Tony Stark sauntered up and I tried not to laugh at him outright but the idea was so ridiculous I couldn’t help but snicker. Stark raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged. “I’m clumsy, would rather walk under a ladder than walk past a gym, and avoid people if I can help it. I would be the worst spy ever.” I swirled my glass. “All that said, thanks for letting me tag along with Steve. I like your booze.”

“At least you have taste,” Stark said. “Are you the reason I saw Rogers walking around with a half-full glass himself?”

“Still half-full huh?” I asked and looked around, but there was no Steve in sight. With the one second loss of attention Tony Stark moved on to talking to the other three. Since I was hemmed in in a way that would attract attention should I leave (and I was right by the best snacks that just got replaced) I stayed and socialized. Or ‘socialized.’ Stark was a talker– not as fast as I had expected but fast enough that whenever he looked at me for a response I only had time to make a facial expression before he was on about something else. He was kind of funny, but also kind of an asshole– like, he was okay, but I still felt cautious and I could see how he and Steve might be at cross-purpose more often than not.

I felt pretty pleasant though. Nobody was glomming onto the Avengers just for being Avengers anymore (even Handsy was off laughing with a group of friends), people were talking around me without making me participate, the lights were bright in a sort of haloed way, I had good food and drink in hand, and the room was comfortably warm. I just needed one more thing and it would have been perfect. Or maybe I was better off without him.

…No. I still wanted Steve around, even if I was being the world’s biggest idiot about having a dumb crush. Even if this only ended in heartbreak and I had to watch him hook up with other people for the rest of my days, his company was worth that much.

I was only half-listening to Tony when he made some dumb joke and I had sussed out his personality enough to comfortably and casually tell him, “Go fuck yourself.”

His mouth dropped open and he gasped. “Cap!” he said and pointed at me like he was a lawyer in a courtroom drama and I was this week’s case. “Your plus one just told me to go fuck myself!”

Warm chuckles drifted on high from behind me and I felt even more comfortable when Steve came around to stand at my side, just slightly behind my arm. “Is that all? She tells me that almost every day.”

I was taking a drink so I flipped Steve off without looking.

“See?” Steve said. “Sometimes even nonverbally.”

“Well,” Tony said, pouting. “Now I don’t feel special.”

I gave him an awkward consolation pat on the shoulder.

Pepper arrived then so Tony turned his mania onto her. I turned my head to look up at Steve. His shoulders were loose and his expression leaned closer to a smile than not. “Hi,” I said, trying not to smile too big.

“Hey,” he said. “Having fun?”

“Mm hm,” I replied. His smile was soft and sweet and the light formed a glow around him.

Someone coughed next to us. Steve jolted and I turned my eyes as far away from him as I could. “I’m sorry,” Steve said to someone else and lightly tugged at the shoulder of my dress as he said my name. “I want you to meet someone.”

I looked back but didn’t let myself get to Steve. I settled my eyes firmly on the (of course, handsome,) wavy-haired brunet next to him. Steve then introduced me to his friend, Bruce Banner.

“Sorry for the terrible first impression,” I said as we shook hands.

“I’m sure Steve deserved it,” Bruce said kindly. “And I know Tony did.”

“Hey,” the two of them said in near-unison.

“You are right,” I said. “On both counts.”

“What is this rudeness at my party?” Tony grumbled. “I could kick you both out.”

“You promise?” Bruce said, which was much funnier than my response of grabbing a few hors d’oeuvres and hastily wrapping them in a napkin.

Steve tugged at my sleeve again as the conversation turned to Who Can Roast Tony The Best. I leaned in closer to Steve and he came down to my ear to ask, “Do you still have that corner open?” in a low voice that made me shudder.

‘Boy do I,’ I thought but kept that to myself. I grabbed his sleeve and pulled as I slipped out of the group, and he followed easily.

The party picked up in noise and excitement but Steve and I stayed in my second-favorite corner for a while, sharing my napkin-wrapped snacks and drinking the water he had momentarily stolen away to grab (and which he refused to replace with alcohol until I had drunk the whole thing).

It was getting a little chilly since we were right by a patio door but I was content and tried to show as much. Steve left momentarily to go say hi to someone and I rubbed my arms, trying to warm and wake myself at the same time. While it wasn’t necessarily past my bedtime it was just…tiring. I was a little relieved that Steve had stepped away, because it gave me a few moments to rest my eyes.

“Hey.”

“Back already?” I asked and opened my eyes as I smiled at him.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked and hesitated, like he would actually leave if I said so. Dork.

“Of course not,” I said. “I just…I know you have friends here; you don’t have to keep me company if you don’t want to.”

“What if I want to?” Steve said and glanced around, coming back to me with a shy smile that was begging for a kiss.

I swallowed the urge and smiled at him. “Well. I’m certainly not going to chase you off.”

His eyes brightened and he retook his place next to me. We went back to staying in affable silence and it was good to have a reminder of why I didn’t really want to kiss him. This was the most comfortable I had been with a human being in a very long time and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. Not for awkwardness, not for regret, not for anything.

Apparently I was worse at concealing the chill than I thought. “Here,” Steve said and didn’t wait a second before he draped his jacket over my shoulders. “Is that better?”

I was caped with a warm, surprisingly soft jacket that smelled like Steve. ‘Better’ was a wildly inaccurate term; I was lucky I wasn’t fucking catatonic. God, I had problems. “You don’t need it?”

“Nah,” he said. And put his arm around me. “Is this okay?”

“Warm,” was the only word I could form.

“Good,” he chuckled and did not pull away from me, even when the door didn’t open for a while. I was so comfortable. Too comfortable. But I ignored the warning bells and leaned my head against his shoulder, letting my eyes droop a little in comfort.

And then I noticed his friends were staring at us and my eyes opened right back up. Fuck, shit, fuck, did they know? He had at least two spies for friends, they had to know, I was lucky Steve hadn’t yet noticed; how did I get so fucking sloppy? I sat up straight.

“Are you all right?” Steve asked.

“Uh, I think your friends might need you,” I said and nodded in their direction. While he looked over them I swirled the remainder of my water and then tossed it back. “I need a drink.” Understatement.

“All right then,” Steve said and stood with me. “It’s my turn to show you my favorite corner.” And so it was my turn to follow and I did, but when he slipped his arm around me, as we pressed together to squeeze through people, I leaned into it and stole yet another little, selfish moment for myself.

As soon as I got my replacement drink he then led me all the way down the bar, then around and over to a lesser-used part of the wrap-around counter that was away from most of the fun and in an awkward corner that was even out of the light and shaded.

“Nice,” I said. “It’s a little small though. Are we going to rock-paper-scissors or just shove each other out of the way for it?” If I angled just right I could make him shove me into it. Granted, I would probably be made one with the wall, but sacrifices must be made sometimes.

“I have an idea,” Steve said. And he sat down. But just as I was about to commend him on his deviousness he

1) put his hands on my waist

2) pulled

and I

3) turned to grab onto something

4) failed

and 5) fell.

Into his lap.

I sat, frozen for a moment. But I didn’t say anything. Steve didn’t say anything. And I didn’t get up. I just kept…sitting on him. Eventually I found my voice. “Did I crush you?” I asked, feeling a little hoarse, and probably drowned out by the sounds of cheering.

“No,” Steve said, hard to hear through the excitement of the countdown as it started. I turned my upper body to look at him, but whatever joke I was going to make about ‘comfortable seats’ died before it formed.

Steve, half-cast in shadows and whatever scattered lightshow was going on behind us, stared at me, something inscrutable. A spot of red light splashed over his lips for a moment and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. They were slightly opened, dry from the air, and I felt so warm, so…what could it hurt? Just one little moment; would he mind so much just one little ta–

His arms tightened around me and he moved, bringing those lips to meet mine as the room erupted in cacophony. After just a second I slid my drink onto the counter, wrapped my arms around him, and returned the kiss with everything I had.

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[lizzie-boo]

You’ve Got A Friend In Me

Request: Hi! I was just wondering if you would make a sibling Harry Potter imagine (post I dunno what y’all call it) where the reader is a younger sibling ( maybe to Harry or whoever idk you choose) and they have always been the outcast of the family, always feeling like they were in their siblings shadows. They are shy, quiet, introverted, and work really hard (but never ask for help). Maybe they can be in Ravenclaw (if their in the timeline maybe besties with Luna?) Please tag me! I love you byee!

Requested by: @the-professional-dumbass​

Warnings: None 

Words: 1,899

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I hope you like it. I feel like I could’ve done so much more with this but it was getting long. Hopefully, this is similar to what you wanted. Thank you for putting up with my disappearance for a while. It’ s nice to be back. 

I had always lived in the shadow of my older brother. I expected it though, why wouldn’t I? He had survived an attack from Voldemort when he was just a baby. Sure it hurt that I got overlooked all the time but Harry was the chosen one. Sure I was basically a miracle baby since my mom had been pregnant with me when she was killed and I by sheer luck and magic had been able to survive. However, not many people knew that. Most thought that my parents, James, and Lily Potter, only had one child. I’m not gonna lie it sucks knowing that there are very few people that know I exist but that also means I don’t have to worry about everyone talking about me. I’ve seen what it does to Harry, the constant pestering, and asking to see his scar. It is a lot for him to handle, so I guess I am kind of glad that I don’t have to deal with that.

Living with Uncle Sirius had its ups and downs too. I loved him because he was one of the few people I had left but he did tend to overlook me too. It was something about how Harry looked so much like our dad that Uncle Sirius would get distracted and lost in the memories of the good old days. Back when he had all of his friends around him and did not have so many burdens. Not that he ever saw Harry or me as a burden but raising two kids is a handful. I know he still loves me just as much as Harry but sometimes I can tell he just prefers to spend time with Harry.

While I was overlooked at home and in public I hoped that it would change when I finally went to Hogwarts. This was my chance to finally be someone. To have my own friends and someone to talk to. The day had finally come I was off to finally start my schooling. I felt the nerves bubbling inside of me as the platform approached. Harry and Uncle Sirius stopped in front of an unmarked pillar between platforms nine and ten.

“Okay, so we just run through here and then our platform will be on the other side,” Harry tells me. I give him a nervous smile before turning my gaze back towards the wall.

Uncle Sirius had our cart with our trunks and Harry’s pet owl stacked on top. He decided to take the lead and run through first. Watching him make it through safety had reassured me but I still felt my nerves running wild. As Harry made a move to enter the platform I grabbed his hand. With a slight squeeze of my hand, he took off towards the wall. We both made it to the other side and a smile broke out on my face. I was finally doing it, I was going to Hogwarts.

However, my smile faded as Harry dropped my hand in favor of going to meet up with his friends. I know that he didn’t mean to leave me behind, that he was just excited to finally see his friends but it stung. My brother had left me to figure out this on my own. Much like the rest of my life, I would be doing this alone.

I waited next to Uncle Sirius until Harry finally came back to say goodbye. I followed his lead and soon enough I was following him onto the Hogwarts Express. He had rejoined his friends and they were chatting away as I trailed behind. Soon enough they ducked into a cabin that was already filled with a few other students. I stood by the doorway for a moment and noticed that there would not be a seat for me so I nodded to Harry and made my way down the hallway.

I stepped into the nearest empty cabin and pulled out a book. I let the words pull me from my sadness of the first day of school. I let the story wash away my anger towards my brother for leaving me to handle myself again. Before I knew it I was whisked away into a new world where I could feel happy and included.

I pulled myself away from the book as someone sat down across from me. She appeared to be around my age and had striking blonde hair and a faraway look in her eyes.

Whispering slightly she introduced herself, “Hello, I’m Luna.”

I introduced myself and before I knew it she was in her own world again. I turned back towards the book set in my lap and indulged in the thrilling pages once more. It wasn’t long into the trip when Luna spoke up once more.

“I’m quite excited for my first year. I do reckon it’ll be much fun.” Her eyes never left the window but I didn’t mind. It was nice to have someone to talk to for once. Most of the time at home I’d sat idly by listening to Harry and Uncle Sirius talk and never giving any real input.

“I’m a first-year too, I hope I’ll be able to make some friends.” I confide in her. As the words leave my mouth she turns to me. Her stormy gray eyes meet mine and she wrinkles her forehead.

“But I believe you’ve already made one. And if I’m not mistaken your last name implies that you are related to Harry Potter so you have him too. Don’t you?” Her voice is light and airy and it makes me feel dumb for thinking I wouldn’t make any friends.

“Thank you, Luna,” I say.

She looks even more confused, “What for?” She asks.

“For being someone to talk to and for being a friend.”

“Well, you can always talk to me as long as the pesky nargles don’t take up all my time.”

“Nargles?” I ask. The word sounds strange and I can’t even begin to imagine what strange magical creature they might be. However, before I can dwell on it too long she’s started telling me all about them.

The train ride ends faster than I expect and as we all head towards the castle Luna stops once more. This time in front of the carriages. She reaches up and places her hand in the empty space in front of it. When I realize that she is no longer walking with me I turn.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Can’t you see them? They’re beautiful.” She whispers.

“What are you talking about there’s nothing there.” I watch Harry and his friends pass us and he shoots me a questioning look. I shrug in response before turning back to my friend. My friend what a weird thing to be able to say. It brought a smile to my face to think that I wouldn’t be so lonely anymore. Not that I was ever that lonely, but now I can talk to someone. I can have a deep meaningful conversation with someone and not feel as if I am wasting their time.

“I wish you could see them.” She says before turning and catching up to me.

“Why do you think you can see them and I can’t?” I ask while trying to see if I can make out where my brother is among the crowds of students.

“I believe I’ve read about them before. I think they are called thestrals. From what I remember only those who have witnessed death can see them.” She tugs at her earring a little before turning towards me. She gives me a look and I can tell she knows what I am going to ask.

So I state it simply, “Who?” It almost feels wrong to be asking such a personal question so soon.

“My mother, I don’t remember much since I was young.”

“I guess we are in the same boat then.” I joke trying to lighten the mood. She cracks a small smile and we spend the rest of the trip up to the castle in silence.

After the sorting ceremony, Luna seems to appear out of nowhere. She grabs my arm and spins me around to face her. The smile on her face is the largest I’ve seen from her.

“We’re both in the same house, new friend.” She says the last part in an almost mocking way which makes me laugh. My words from earlier seem so ridiculous now.

“I can’t believe it. I hope my family isn’t upset. My parents, uncle, and brother are all in Gryffindor.”

“Don’t be silly it doesn’t matter. And besides, at least it isn’t Slytherin.” She grabs my arm and leads me towards the Ravenclaw common room.

Before we can make it out of the great hall another hand is grabbing at my arm. This time it is Harry. His friends are no longer following him.

“I’m so proud of you little sis. I know it’s not Gryffindor but at least you’re not in Slytherin.”

“Hey, that’s exactly what Luna said you would say.” I laugh.

“I know you’re gonna do great. You’re so smart and are capable of anything.” His words make me smile wider and my cheeks start to hurt.

“Thanks, it’s so nice to finally hear someone say that.” I know I should be riding out my happiness but I can’t help let one little jab slid in.

The smile falls off his face and he looks at me. He wraps one arm around my shoulder and pulls me into him. I watch Luna walk-off to give us some space.

“I know I was a pretty awful brother but now that you're here I promise I will spend more time with you. It’ll finally be just you and me for once.” I like the sound of it but I know it won’t last long.

“It would be nice to finally spend some time with you,” I say.

“Plus my friend Ron has a little sister who is a first-year too. I think you would like her.” He bumps my shoulder and I give a small shrug.

“Maybe,” I say.

“Just meet her and see if you hit it off. And if you do then we would get to spend even more time together since our friend groups will overlap.” His smile is dorky and I can’t help but laugh at him.

“You’re the only one that I know who thinks about things like that. It was nice talking to you big bro but I gotta go find Luna.” I give him a wave and head off in the direction of the common room.

I find Luna sitting on one of the chairs near the fire starring off in the distance once more. It’s a usual occurrence to find her lost in her own thoughts. Sitting down next to her I let my thoughts wash over me as well. I finally feel happy with life. I’m in a new place with new people. I’ve already made a friend, plus a possible new one, and Harry is talking to me more. Maybe Hogwarts was what I needed all along. It finally gave me a place where I felt like I belonged. It’s the new start I needed and I know this is bound to be a great first year of school.

[forkanna]

[AO3] [WATTPAD] [QUOTEV]

WARNING: NSFW. Includes petplay.

It took until the end of their dinner and leaving to head back to Chie's house before they were calmed down enough to discuss what had just happened. Chie was highly embarrassed, but before she could even begin to fully dig into the reasons, Yukiko had something else prepared to say.

"I'm very sorry, Chie-chan."

"Ye-what?" she said, switching gears mid-word because she was taken aback and unprepared. "For what?"

"I believe you weren't really ready for me to do what I did just now. And yes, I know you insisted that you could handle it, but… I have a feeling that Ebihara-san coming up to talk to us changed your feelings. But you didn't stop me, so I made an assumption, and now… I think… it was the wrong one."

A long sigh of relief burst from Chie. "Okay, thank you. Whew! I was gonna say that I was a little freaked out, but um, I didn't want you to feel bad. Especially 'cuz I did something so gross."

"Huh?" Head tilting adorably in confusion, almost making Chie want to sweep her into a fresh kiss, she asked, "What did you do?"

"What do you mean? I kissed that bitch!"

"Ohhh. Well, I just assumed that was part of the playacting." Though her eyes did lose a little of their light as they resumed walking.

"Yeah. I mean, it kinda was, but like… I dunno, I was trying not to moan when I came and that was the easiest way to cover my mouth. And she is cute. Even if I wish I was kissing you instead."

That made a brief smile flash across her lips. "Oh, I see."

"Sorry."

"Well… it's my fault for continuing to play with you while she was leaning so close. I could see as plainly as you that she was making a 'kiss me' face."

"A 'kiss me' face?" Yukiko recreated said expression, and Chie had already started to lean in before she shook the spell off. "D-damn, that's… that is super effective!"

The Yasogami beauty queen giggled as she slipped her arm through Chie's and pulled her up the walk to her house. "I've seen the other staff at the inn do it to get tips. Not all of them, of course. Perhaps they watch the same TV shows as Ai-san? Those Korean dramas…"

"Ugh, I can't stand those. I mean, they're good right up until they hit some scene that's just so super dramatic that I can't take it seriously anymore."

"Really? I love them; you're not wrong, they are exaggerated, but I look at it as… that's the art form. It's how they display the full spectrum of the human emotional state by shining a brighter light on them."

Chie blinked a few times, then stuttered, "W-well, yeah, that's true. Sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. I always knew you didn't like them as much as me."

"Oh." As she fished out her keys and opened the door, she said, "Well… isn't that bad, though? Like, if we're dating…"

"So what? You and I don't have to like all the same things. I never much cared for that Super Sentai show of yours, but I don't hate it, and I like watching it with you because you just get so into it." As they stepped out of their shoes in the entryway, she asked, "Isn't that what relationships are all about? Compromise?"

"Huh, well yeah. I mean, I wanna argue, but that makes total sense. You're sure you don't mind sitting through my stuff?"

"Not if you don't mind sitting through mine," she answered with such a sweet smile that Chie felt her pulse racing. "I think that's settled. We will continue to share our shows."

"Deal," she chuckled lightly as they lingered near the bottom of the stairs. "Hey, you can go on up and start on your homework while I get a couple chores done. Won't be that long."

"You sure you don't want some help?" Yukiko asked with very genuine concern in her tone.

"No, no! I got this. Plus once you figure out the assignment you can help my dumb ass."

Pouting, she slapped her arm and hissed, "Stop that! You are not dumb. Just not an academic." And still they lingered. Yukiko slid her hands up to perch on Chie's shoulders. "You're my Prince."

What was she supposed to do besides kiss her? Whatever it was, it wasn't going to happen, because she was already leaning in to gently take her soft lips, pressing her back against the wall by the bottom step. Yukiko barely squeaked before relaxing into the contact, lips sliding over her girlfriend's as they enjoyed their sweet moment together.

"CHIE! IS THAT YOU?"

Moment over. Hastily stepping away from her friend, she called out, "YEAH, MOM! BE THERE IN A SEC!" Then she hissed, "Go on, I'll catch up!"

"Okay," she chuckled before whispering, "I'll try not to think too hard about how sexy you looked in Aiya. Squirming everywhere from my-"

"SHHH! God, you're going to drive me crazy, I gotta go talk to my mom!" But they were both grinning as they parted ways.

                                           ~ o ~

The chores didn't take too long. Her mother wanted her to clean up the kitchen, take out the trash, and to go outside and feed Muku. She rumpled the big, lovable Saint Bernard's fur after his bowl was full, smiling and doting on him for a little while. He would need a walk in an hour or two.

"Awww, your poor collar," she sighed as he licked her all over the face. "STOP! Haha! Sorry, I got you a new one but it's too small, I gotta take it back. This weekend, I promise."

Muku barked as she played with his jowls, still sadly glancing at the old, threadbare leather around his neck. Privately, she was glad she had the wrong size; it was red and she thought maybe a black collar would suit him better. Serendipitous. Then he pounced on her and she laughed and shoved him away.

"Okay, OKAY! I gotta go, but I'll be back in a few, boy. Be good!"

He barked his approval. She shook her head and rolled around with him again. Chie had always liked dogs, but there was an even more special bond she shared with him. Yukiko had loved him the minute she found him, but her parents knew a busy inn was no place for a puppy that would grow into such a large, exuberant dog. That had been how Chie met her for the first time: sobbing on the sidewalk and clinging to his neck, lamenting that she couldn't keep the creature that had wormed its way into her heart so quickly. So Chie's agreement to take in Muku had cemented their freshly-created bond — an early indicator of how close they would eventually become.

Almost like he was their child or something.

Chie quickly washed up and used the toilet before heading into her room to check on her friend. "Hey, so I was gonna grab us some chips but Mom says we shouldn't spoil our dinner, so I guess… we have to…"

"Oh, that's fine," Yukiko said with a sweet smile from where she sat on the floor in front of Chie's bed, copying down notes from the textbook open next to her. Then she noticed she had frozen just inside the door. "Um, Chie? Is something the matter?"

"What… is that…?"

After a few seconds of trying to figure out what she meant, she saw the finger pointing at her. "What is me?" But when her hand moved up to touch her chest, she breathed, "O-oh. I forgot."

Apparently, Yukiko had forgotten she was wearing Muku's would-be replacement collar. The bright red of the leather was rather flattering against her pale skin, and the shiny metal studs caught the light just right. It was a little loose around her neck but not terribly so — though she had it cinched to the tightest setting.

"How? I m-mean… how could you forget you were wearing it? Isn't it uncomfortable?"

"No, not really. But now I feel silly…" She smiled shyly as Chie closed the door and walked over to sit on the bed. "I just saw it lying on your dresser and thought I might try it on, because of how happy it made my shadow. But I completely forgot I did that when I got focused on homework."

"Well, um, it's totally cool. Just really wasn't expecting it, but I guess…" She shrugged awkwardly, hands clenching on the edge of the bed.

And then Yukiko turned slightly and looked up at her, eyes wide with curiosity and concern. It made for a very specific type of display that Chie could not ignore: fists pressing down into the rug, back arched. Almost on her hands and knees. And that striking red collar dangling around her neck while she looked at her with such a compassionate expression…

Compassionate… or loyal. Obedient.

"You guess?"

"I guess… it does kinda… look good." That was not quite what she had intended to say. Really, she had completely forgotten what she was going to say before now. Wait — now she remembered. "You're sure it's not scratchy or something? Because if you like it, hey, feel free."

Cheeks turning a little rosy, she smiled and said, "I don't mind it. Really! Does… it make you uncomfortable?"

"What? I'm not the one wearing it!" But when Yukiko raised an eyebrow, she scratched the side of her face and looked away. "W-well, like… it's weird, because… people don't normally… but you kinda make it work, a-and you look so natural sitting down there… with it on your neck…"

"Sitting down here?" Unfortunately for both of them, she figured it out before Chie herself did. "Ohhhh. Because it's a dog collar, right?"

"Huh?"

Yukiko walked in a small circle on her hands and knees, a sort of bemused smile on her lips. "Am I a pretty puppy?"

Full blush. Chie felt like someone could make okonomiyaki on her face, it was burning so hot as she gazed down at her best friend, who was literally behaving like a dog. For her. If not for seeing Other-Yukiko do the same thing, she would be laughing her ass off right now, thinking it was a mere joke. But that shadow had made it distinctly…

Sexual.

"Yeah," she breathed. When Yukiko actually waggled her hips from side to side, she reached down and caressed her hand over her hair. "Pretty girl."

"Mmm," she sighed, closing her eyes and leaning into the touch. "My Prince…" The eyes slit open and she smirked. "My Master?"

God, why did that instantly stir butterflies in her stomach? Not only that… but it made her want to further explore the dynamic between them. "Does, um… does my cute little Yukiko want a treat?" Then she muttered, "That does not sound right, even a little."

Yukiko chuckled. "You're right, Yukiko isn't a very good dog name."

"How about…" It came pretty easy to her while she was petting over her hair again. "Yuka?"

"Oh? You think I'm a gentle flower?" Belatedly, the meaning began to catch up to her and her cheeks turned rosy. "Chie…"

"You knew that, though," she hedged as her own face flushed. "Everybody in Inaba knows… especially after you've been on the news. You're the fairest in the land, and you would never hurt a fly. Japan's sweetheart."

Biting her lip to keep from giggling, she finally managed to whisper bashfully, "Stop. I'm n-not that pretty."

"God, you so are. But I know… you don't see it. Like, even before your shadow pretty solidly confirmed that. But I swear… I'm gonna spend my whole life trying to convince you."

Now tears were blossoming at the corners of Yukiko's eyes. She trembled a little, swallowed hard. Clearly her thoughts were racing, butting up against the wall of emotion trying to overtake her. Then rubbed her cheek against Chie's leg. "Master makes Yuka so happy. Yuka is hers forever."

Now her heart really was hammering in her chest, and her pulse was pounding somewhere downstairs — an area she would always associate with Yukiko for the rest of her life. Because she was the only one for her. Hers. How lucky could she get?

"Good girl, Yuka. Good girl."

"Chie? Are you… crying? Is everything-"

"All good," she cut her off, wiping at her eyes hastily. "Noooo problem here! Just, um… just all… a-anyway, it looks like you're really happy about the collar, so it's yours. All for Yuka, okay?"

"All for Yuka!" she piped up with a big grin and a little bounce. Of course, Chie could see she was a little bit bemused that she liked having her best friend as a dog, but… it wasn't all that. She also found their little impromptu roleplay to be fulfilling somehow. Both of them did.

"Okay, up, Yuka!" She obeyed, climbing into her lap. "Such a good girl — so pretty, so sweet."

Clearly a little nervous about it, Yukiko let out a quiet little bark. It didn't sound much like an actual dog but it wasn't bad for a first try. Not sure what else to do, Chie decided to kiss all over her face like she would with Muku.

"AH!" she yelped out before giggling, "Stooop, that's so much!"

"Well I have to show my doggy how much I love her," she laughed back — before her breath caught in her throat. It had been so easy to say. Was this too big a step too soon, when they had only just barely begun to realize they had such feelings for each other?

But before she could dwell on it too deeply, Yukiko was already pressing a very light kiss to her lips. "Yuka loves you too, Master. Very much."

"R-really? Are we just playing, or…?" When Yukiko shook her head, biting her bottom lip to keep from grinning too wide, Chie found she felt light-headed. "Oh. Wow, I'm- okay then. I guess that answers that question."

"Guess it does. Is that alright?"

"Absolutely. I mean… I already knew I loved you the most, so I guess… since we're together now, that means…"

"We're in love," Yukiko breathed for the two of them. Her arms tightened around Chie's body as she pressed her face into her neck, adding in a muffled voice, "I… this is crazy, and I'm shocked, but I've never been happier. Do you think this is normal?"

The Prince couldn't help laughing nervously as she pushed her hands into her best friend's back through the layers of her school uniform. "How the heck should I know? I've never been in love before! Geez, I've never even put a note in a boy's locker before!"

"Well, it probably isn't normal that I'm wearing a collar. But otherwise, it feels… nice. Letting you keep me. I belong to you forever."

"Yeah. Crazy, but yeah, I… I'm never letting you go. Bet on that."

The next kiss lasted for a long minute, hands caressing, lips entwining as their hot breath commingled in the space between their bodies. Before she knew it, Chie was undressing her as they rolled over on the sheets, hands seeming to know exactly where to go.

"You want me right now?" Yukiko asked in scarcely a whisper, pupils dilated fully as she gazed up at her best friend.

"Damn right. Do you… not want to? We could-"

"I just want to be close to you," she cut her off. "What we do isn't nearly as important."

Chie kissed along her neck, feeling her pulse and listening to her shaky breaths. That light scent that only belonged to Yukiko filled her lungs as she finally got her skirt down her legs, then began to peel her black tights off.

"Oh…"

"What?" Chie asked urgently, stopping with them bunched around her friend's knees. "Did I screw up?"

"N-no, you're fine! I was just wondering if you had... a thing… but I suppose I don't know why I thought about that."

Completely lost, she prompted, "Thing? What thing?"

"For stockings. For some reason, when you started taking them off my thought was that clearly you don't have a thing for stockings if you're getting rid of them."

Glancing at the tights, she finally connected the dots and let out a long "Ohhhhhh" as her head bobbed up and down. "R-right! Well… I've always thought you look great in tights, but I definitely never thought about it that way! Did you… want me to be into them like that?"

"NO! I mean…" Now her legs were fidgeting, so Chie continued to pull the stockings off to let her have the freedom to move. "You were into stepping on my face, and… I kind of was too… I was mostly just curious."

"Oh. Like, if I'm into feet and stuff?" She wasn't, but could definitely see how Yukiko got that impression. "Nah. But don't get me wrong, yours are cuter than Ebihara's, that's for sure."

That made her smirk. At first she couldn't figure out why, but then Yukiko muttered, "You were checking hers out, huh?"

"What?! No way! I m-mean, she really didn't leave us much choice, did she? Slamming her leg up on the table like that! She's crazy!"

"She's vain," Yukiko giggled as she ran her toes up and down her girlfriend's leg. "But thank you, for your reassurance. I wasn't trying to fish for compliments but I like it when you give them."

"No problem. Easy when I think you're the hottest girl on the planet." She picked up the playful foot and began to massage.

"Mmmhh…"

Chie felt a new flutter in the pit of her stomach. Yukiko was into this? No… it was a lot more likely she was enjoying a foot massage like a normal person. Well that was fine. Smiling in the knowledge that she could do something for her favourite person, she started digging in harder with her thumbs.

"O-oh goodness!" she gasped out, squirming and clutching at the sheets as her pale pink sole was assaulted. "Chie! W-wait!"

So she paused in her motions. "Yeah?"

"Shouldn't… I be doing this for you, Master?"

"Well… I mean, um…" Flustered by the return of that term of address, she shrugged and looked away. "I've… never seen any dog give a foot massage, so I think you're in the clear. Thanks, though."

"But isn't that an obvious benefit of having a dog with opposable thumbs?" They both laughed at that one, and Yukiko took the opportunity to crawl up into her lap. "I also assume you would rather have human-kisses than dog-kisses."

"Hell yeah, I would. C'mere, Yuka."

Another few minutes became lost to time. Eventually, they were both in their underwear and tangled up in the sheets, enjoying the closeness and warmth that provided. Paradise. Chie really wouldn't have minded if time froze in that ephemeral moment: she couldn't imagine a better one coming in the future.

Although the collar was still on. Was she really that comfortable in it? Curious, she slipped a finger in past the band of leather and gave it a gentle tug.

"Nhhh," she breathed into Chie's lips. That sounded favourable. So she tried it again a bit harder, and this time their kiss broke so she could moan out, "A-ah… Master?"

"Is my Yuka okay?" she asked cautiously. She only wanted to keep going if it wasn't a problem.

"Uh-huh. I mean, um, yes. Yuka is fine." She maneuvered two sets of legs until they were able to press their sexes up against each other, thin layers of panties notwithstanding. "Mmhh… does Master want to train me now?"

Luckily, Yukiko had tapped the hand tugging at her collar with a single finger; otherwise she wouldn't have been able to catch on. "Oh? So… you like this training?"

"Yes!" she gasped out, barely a strain in her voice from the restricted airflow. "M-makes me feel… like Master will take care of me!"

Maybe eventually, they would be practiced enough that they wouldn't have to reassure each other so often. But even with that slowing things down… this was still so much hotter than when she had been trampling Yukiko or spanking her. It felt a lot more right – which was both worrying and reassuring at the same time. Why did she like bossing her around? She knew Yukiko wanted someone to take care of her, but was that all it was for Chie? That she wanted to be her caretaker, and it got a little twisted due to petty jealousy?

"A-ah!" Yukiko gasped out a little weaker, face flushed from the effort to breathe.

"Good girl," Chie purred down at her as she rolled her hips a little harder. What she wouldn't give to suddenly sprout a thick cock with which to slam into her… or vice versa, really, but she figured being the owner meant she was supposed to have it. Maybe they could look into buying one at least. "Master's so happy you… like your training! I'm gonna train you real good!"

Hotter and hotter, their passions burned as they writhed together. Eventually, Chie awkwardly yanked down her own panties, and Yukiko took advantage of the break to drag air into her lungs and divest herself of all remaining garments, as well. Then they resumed their positions, this time with one of Yukiko's legs up over her shoulder.

"MMhhh! My Prince! Or… I mean, Master?"

Chuckling breathlessly, she told her, "It's fine, whatever! Do you… like one more than the other?"

"Well…" Laughing herself now, if a bit more shyly, she licked her lips before answering, "I like Prince more, but… Master is… it m-makes more- NNH! Makes more sense when you have me in a collar!"

"Yeah? I mean… this was your idea," she snorted as she tugged on the leather.

"Was it? I think it was yours! In the TV!"

That brought a full blush back to Chie's cheeks — though it wasn't a far leap, since she was already glowing red from the exertion. "Y-yeah? I guess… you have a point, b-but…"

"I know! You didn't really… think of me… it's okay! Just keep going!"

"R-right!"

So keep going they did. Chie made sure to exert more pressure on the collar, on Yukiko's throat as their hips ground against each other. GOD, that direct contact really made a difference! It still wasn't as incredible as using fingers or mouths, but the knowledge that her most intimate area was pressing right against that of her best friend in the whole world more than made up for the awkwardness and lessened sensation. Her heat was building so fast that she knew it wouldn't take more than another minute.

"M-Master!" Yukiko gasped out weakly. "M-my head… is spinny…"

"Oh shit!" She let go immediately. "Are you okay?! Yukiko!"

After a couple of breaths, she smiled up at Chie. "Y-yeah! Thank you. But you didn't have to stop…"

When her calf muscle bounced off Chie's shoulder, she knew what she meant and smiled as she returned to her blistering pace, grinding their bodies against one another. She still slipped a thumb under her collar to exert pressure, but it was barely anything now — just a little added interest.

"MASTER! I'm- I am close! I think! A-are you?!"

"Ohhhhh YEAH! GOD! I'm so close, Yuk- Yuka! Be a good little doggie and cum for me!"

Instantly, she could see the blush was so much brighter in Yukiko's cheeks. Either from the pet name, being called a doggie, or how vulgar the request was. Maybe all of them — maybe it didn't matter. But all she panted out that was intelligible was the word "YES!" before she was rolling her hips just as hard, meeting her partner on her level.

They both climaxed mere moments later. Chie was both elated and disturbed to feel the wetness growing between them, and couldn't even be sure if most of that was coming from herself or the pet writhing and squealing on her bed. But in the end she decided there was really nothing wrong; she just was used to feeling wet things as being "gross". This was the feeling of being with her lover, and she would cherish it.

"Ohhhhhh," Yukiko groaned as their bodies finally came to a stop and the pressure on her collar was released. "Wow… that… is it… supposed to get better… every time?"

Laughing weakly, Chie slowly moved her leg from off of her shoulder and laid it down before she flopped onto her side next to her best friend. "Maybe? I… agree though, that… was super hot!"

"Yeah," she giggled as she easily rolled to face her, eyes dancing with light and joy. "I can't believe… we can do this, and it feels that good! Without a boy! I thought it was supposed to…"

When she didn't answer right away, Chie prompted, "Supposed to?"

"Oh, sorry. I just meant, I thought boys and girls had bodies that fit together. So that was how sex would be the most pleasurable."

"Well, I guess I sorta thought the same," she admitted with a half-smile as she pet up and down Yukiko's side. And Yukiko's eyes closed in bliss, so clearly it was the right move. "But like, whatever, right? I love you and I'm glad you were into it, since I was, too. Kinda works out like that."

Yukiko nodded fervently. "I agree — very much. And I'm devoted to you, so I don't really feel any need to find out the differences."

"You sure? Like, I would totally get it if you wanna bang some guy and figure out if like, the lesbian life is really what you want."

"Very sure," she reassured her with a little peck on the cheek. "The more I get used to you being my lover, the more I know… it was always going to be this way. You and I were destined to be together."

Tears began to form at the corners of Chie's eyes. They snuck up on her, and she had already sniffled by the time she regained control — which meant it was too late. Her Yukiko was already kissing the tears away, embracing her tighter.

"It's okay, my Prince."

"I just l-love you s-so much!" she blubbered as she clung tightly to her girlfriend. She could hear a tightness in Yukiko's voice when she reassured her that everything was going to be fine, but she didn't break down; she had to be strong while the other was weak. She knew they would be taking turns like this for a long, long time.

"Ohh, it's okay! Shhh, Chie, I love you, too!" The delicate hand petting over her hair both helped and made it worse. "Yuka loves Master!"

That made the next sob turn into a chuckle. "God… we're pretty messed up!"

"No, I don't think so. Just different." She pushed her head back enough to kiss her lips, gazing up into her eyes — and revealing her own were slightly wet. "But you and I are forever. Even if we're weird, we can be weird together, okay?"

"Uh-huh," she managed to blubber, sucking in a deep, hard breath to steady her nerves. "Okay… God, we have homework to do and stuff, and I'm… I mean, we just banged, and it was incredible, and I don't know why I'm sad about being so happy?"

Yukiko giggled and kissed both her cheeks again. "I've heard that people cry when they experience extreme emotions. I know I do. Doesn't only have to be bad emotions, you know."

"Well, I think it sucks! Get me outta this mess!" They both laughed as they relaxed on the bed, more or less nude and basking in the afterglow of a good lay… and the acceptance of their connection to each other. "Ah man… Yuki-chan, I'm so happy."

"Me, too," she whispered as she curled around her body and nestled in again. "Your puppy really loves you."

"Y-you don't have to say the puppy thing, y'know. I was just messing around."

"You were not. And neither am I." As Chie tried to fight off the hot shame trying to fill her, her new pet kissed her gently and whispered, "I can be your secret puppy whenever one of us needs it. I do not mind at all, because I know you take good care of Muku, so… why wouldn't you take good care of me?"

"It's demeaning…" When Yukiko frowned hard, she sighed. "Okay, okay, we both know I'm gonna treat you great for a dog, but I should be okay treating you like a person, right? So… maybe just a sexy thing, once in a while… that's not so bad."

Her girlfriend pet up and down her stomach. "Whatever makes you comfortable. But if it would help… I'll start wearing this collar all the time to help you get used to it."

"WHAT?! N-no, don't- I mean, somebody's gonna ask, and what the hell would you tell them?!"

"That I belong to Master." When Chie paled, she giggled hard a few times before saying, "I'm kidding! I would tell them I'm trying out a new fashion statement or something. I think it looks nice."

Swallowing hard, she looked down at her nude best friend, clad only in that collar. "Damn, it looks really nice… but I don't want anybody else seeing you like that."

"You don't? Oh…" Her cheeks turning rosy, she bit her lip and looked away shyly. Adorable. "Yuka is all yours, you know. Nobody else will see me this way. But… w-well…"

"What?" she prompted.

"I'm only yours. And this collar will tell people that, even if I don't confirm it. Maybe subconsciously, it will stop guys from hitting on me, because they will equate seeing a collar with ownership. You don't own me like a slave," she cut Chie off when she saw her opening her mouth to protest. "But we can play like you're my pet-owner. And the rest of the time, think of it like an engagement ring."

Well, if Chie didn't already feel like she was about to faint, she definitely did now. "ENGAGEMENT! Y-you wanna marry me?!"

"Obviously."

"NO! No, not obvious — I'm losing my… you would really…"

"Shhhh," she soothed her as the tears came back for both of them, even if moreso for the kung fu master. "Chie, have you heard of a promise ring?" A little nod, so she continued, "Let's say that instead of an engagement ring, then. Just a promise that we are exclusive, not that we're planning to get married. Is… that less… troubling?"

At first, Chie just nodded, and earned herself a few more kisses in the process. When she found her voice again, she whispered, "Not 'troubling'. God, I'm sorry, it's just… freaking me out that I get to be this close to you! That you wanna make it a steady thing! Like, so do I, but you're a literal dream girl and you're picking me over anybody in the whole country, and I just… can't… even!"

"Just a puppy who loves her Master," she whispered into her lips. "Yuka is all for you. Forever."

She had to step up. Say something less freaky-outy. "And Master is never, ever letting you go." Then she let her urgent need to kiss her sweep over them both.

Their homework remained neglected for some time.

                                          To Be Concluded…