#not that I’m necessarily suprised

[tizeline]

Eueueue these two :>

Tried out a slightly different shading style this time, no idea if I like it or not

[ifeelfreewithoutmyshoes]

Another queer flatmate!

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN gets a job as a bartender in a motorbike club's bar, and Harry runs the club.

author's note: suprise!! i'm back again!! i promised i wouldn't keep you waiting and i'm not. this is the first part in my biker!harry mini-series which i started a while ago and only just got around to finishing! let me know what you think and what you'd like to see in the next instalments!

word count: 11.6k of sexy biker!harry (that's it, that's all).

WARNINGS: strong language, smut, bike riding, a bar fight and talks of a motor accident.

let me know what you think of clover here!! mwah <3

1979

“Look, sweets, I’d hire you on the spot if I thought it would be a good idea,” Mick spoke from across the bar, towel over one shoulder and another in his hand drying a glass, “But it just isn’t, I’m sorry.”

YN sighed, dropping her hands down on the bar. This was the fourth one she’d tried, and so far, she hadn’t had any luck. She wasn’t asking for much – just a job to help pay for her student loans. She had graduated a year ago and bounced from job to job, and yet none of them seemed to fit. It wasn’t necessarily her dream to work in a bar, but she hadn’t a single clue about what her dream was. She had a first-class honours history degree (which she adored getting) and yet not a single idea of what to do with it.

She couldn’t think of the future at this moment, she needed to think about the now and if she wanted to continue to live in her small apartment and eat — she needed a job.

Clovers had been her last hope. It was the last bar in town that YN was yet to try, and despite its less-than-positive reputation – it was always busy, and that meant money coming in. As she turned to look around the bar, which was already quite crowded for it being early on a Friday night, she couldn’t help but imagine the cash that was funnelling through the establishment, and how she wished she could get at least some of it.

“Can I get you a drink, sweets?” Mick spoke again, offering her a soft smile, “It’ll hopefully soften the blow a little bit.”

YN smiled at the man and nodded, “Thank you. Whisky, please.”

Mick got straight to work, placing the glass in front of her, dropping an ice cube into the glass and pouring her a more than generous shot. Just as she fumbled with her purse to pull out some bills to pass to Mick, he shook his head and held his hand out to stop it. She smiled in thanks and watched as he turned and walked away, going to serve the next customer who was standing a few feet away from her.

YN picked up her drink, and just as she was about to take a drink the door beside her opened. Her lips parted, her eyes watching as a group of what seemed to be fifteen or so men, all clad in heavy leather or dark denim walked into the bar.

Of course, YN knew about them. Anyone who lived here knew who they were, but it was the first time that she had seen them this up close. The most she had ever experienced with them was the low rumbling of their engines from a distance, or possibly them riding past her but that was only ever one or two. It was their jackets that often set them apart from the rest of the riders in the town, the very specific Clover’s Riders jacket that every member adorned and what seemed like all times.

The men were loud as they stepped in, most of them heading towards the bar whilst others went to some of the other members who were already seated in the bar. YN’s eyes never left the door until the last one had made his entrance, and she just couldn’t seem to draw them away.

He was younger than many of his counterparts, probably resting at an age near YN’s or possibly a few years or so older. He was clad in the same heavy denim that many of the others wore, but they seemed to sit on his body much easier. The curls of his hair were tousled in every direction it seemed, but YN found herself wondering as to what it would feel like to run her fingers through it.

With a shake of her head, she turned back to her glass and lifted it to her lips. She took a large gulp of the liquid, allowing that to slip down her throat before she finished the rest of it. Mick was long gone from being anywhere near her, working at what seemed like double speed to keep up with the orders that the gang of men were giving him, and she felt as though that was probably her cue to leave. She would have to brainstorm other options for work, seeing as though this just hadn’t called through.

Sighing, YN pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder and pushed up from the stool she was resting on. Just as she turned around to make a beeline for the door through the bodies that were crowding the room, she was stopped by a body in front of hers.

“Woah, woah, little darling where do you think you’re going?” It was one of the riders, standing in front of her with a grin on his features.

“Home,” she said with a shrug.

“So soon,” The man looked over his shoulder to some of his friends who were standing close by, “Me and my buddies here didn’t even get to say hello.”

“Right, okay, hello,” YN nodded to the man in front of her and those behind him, “Really have to get going.”

The man extended his arms so that she couldn’t carry move from her space in front of him, “Let us buy you a drink little darling, I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“I’ve already had one, thank you, and it was very enjoyable,” YN offered them another small smile, “Now please move out of my way so that I can go home.”

“Hey, none of that,” The man shook his head, “Stay with us, I promise we’ll make it worth it.”

YN hummed, tilting her head from side to side lightly, “I’ll pass but I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone else to make the night worth it.”

And with that, YN pushed past the man and beelined for the door. She half expected him to grab her, but from the hoots and hollers of his friends, he was too embarrassed to do anything else.

The bar that YN had worked out whilst she was completing her degree had taught her a thing or two about how to deal with rowdy men, and whilst the firm but clear approach worked in most cases, YN wasn’t afraid to resort to other means if necessary. It was all a respect thing, and more often than not if you deal back to them what they deal to you – the situation usually sorts itself.

YN had just rested her palm against the wood of the door when she heard someone call her name. She saw Mick standing there, leaning over the bar to catch her attention.

“Saw you deal with those guys,” He nodded his head over to the men whose attention had been taken by another woman in the bar, who seemed to accept their advances more than YN did, “When can you start?”

YN’s face broke out into a smile and took a delighted step towards Mick, “Whenever.”

“Right now?” He raised his eyebrows at her, motioning to the men who were calling his name for more drinks, “Have a feeling we’re going to be swamped tonight.”

YN nodded and immediately dropped her purse down behind the bar and rolled the sleeves of her cardigan up.

She turned to the men who were now staring at her with their mouths slightly agape, “What can I get you?”

It was a Thursday night and YN had been working at Clover’s for around a week at this point when Mick decided that she could handle a night on her own. After being thrown into what very much was the deep end on her first shift, there had been time the next day for Mick to show her the ropes properly and anything she would specifically need to know.

Mick said that he normally wouldn’t leave such a new person on their own so quickly, but he had an important family issue that he couldn’t get out of and that she had shown enough trust that he wasn’t worried. It was a Thursday, so it wasn’t going to be too busy but even so, those who were going to be there would be Riders, and they would protect their bar from anything.

It was nearing nine, and YN would probably say that they were at a quarter of their capacity, the majority of them being riders who had been there for the last few hours or so. YN was lucky she supposed. They never ordered anything more complicated than a beer, at most a whisky or a bourbon and this was their bar so there were never any arguments about paying for the drinks.

There was a lull in the orders, so YN decided to take it upon herself to dry some of the glasses she had washed in the previous lull. This job was not for the weak she would say that, but YN would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it. She loved people watching and mixed with the hum of the jukebox it was the perfect combination for her.

The door to the bar opened again about twenty minutes, and in walked that same man that caught her attention a week or so ago, on that first day she was here. He looked the same, apart from he was clad in a mixture of denim and leather this time instead of just denim, and a large bruise was sprouting from under his left eye. To YN, it was obvious that the cause was a punch, for there was nothing else that could cause a bruise such as that one. He walked into the room, ignored the hoots and hollers from some of the other men and took a seat right in the middle of the bar.

YN threw the towel she was holding over her shoulder and walked towards him, resting her hands on the edge of the bar, “What can I get ya?”

The man didn’t stray his eyes away from where they were planted firmly on the wood of the bar, “Beer, and a whisky.”

YN nodded, reaching over to pop the lid of the beer, “Do you want ice in the whisky?”

The man just hummed, so YN got straight to work making his drink for him. It was different to that of the other men in the bar — watching him. Whilst they were loud and rowdy and always had something to say to someone – he was silent. He just sat, with the company of his only himself and drank his drink.

Snapping YN out of her gaze (which had been on the man for a few beats too long) was a call of her name from just down the bar. She walked over to where it came from, a man called Taylor who YN had become quite acquainted with in the last few days or so.

Most of the men (not all, obviously) that she had become acquainted with during the last few weeks were lovely. They loved to have a quick natter with her whilst she made their drinks, some of them flirted with her but she didn’t care (it was part of the job) and nobody bothered her. If one or two of the men when they were drunk got a little handsy or started to say things which would be deemed inappropriate, the other lads would circle her and make sure she was okay. She felt safe, which she was quite surprised was the case.

“A piece of advice,” Taylor spoke over the bar as YN started opening the bottles of beer for him and his friends, “Harry over there always orders the same thing, and he’ll drink the whiskey last before he leaves.”

“Thank you,” YN nods with a small smile across her lips, unable to stop her eyes beating over to him for a second – Harry.

“He’s a quiet one,” Taylor continues speaking, grabbing a few bills out of his pocket to pay for the drinks, “But harmless, I promise. To be fair, you’d think the man who founded the club would have more to say.”

YN’s eyes widen, she had no idea that Harry was the one who founded the club. She hadn’t suspected it at all.

“He founded it?” She asked with a slight raise of her eyebrow. She wasn’t trying to pry, but there were things that she wanted to know, and Taylor already had that buzz that made her know that he would be willing to answer any questions she had.

“Yeah, it was him and a few others,” Taylor shrugged, attempting to pick up the three bottles of beer all in one go, “A few years ago now, and it only grew from there.”

YN nodded once more and watched as he walked back to his table. She put the bills that he had given her for the drinks into the register and put the tip she had been given into her apron.

There was something about that man that had caught her attention from that first day, and yet she couldn’t put her finger on it. Now, it made sense. The aura that he had when he walked into the room, as well as the way he sat and held himself – he had a strong presence in the group without even trying.

YN had more questions, but she knew it probably wasn’t the best to pry right now. Instead, she just got on with everything that she had to do. She served drinks and cleaned up after herself right up until close. YN hadn’t realised when Harry had left, but he had slipped out without a single person realising.

She hummed as she swept the floors, tried her hardest to count the cash right the first time and put it in the safe before continuing with her other closing jobs. The chairs were off the floor, as much of the stickiness in the room that YN could remove was gone and the doors were locked and checked.  

Once she had stepped outside, and locked the door to the bar behind her, the late hour catching up with her very quickly – she realised at that point she wasn’t alone.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw that he was standing there, resting against his motorcycle with a cigarette dangling from between his lips. YN was confused but continued to lock the door and make sure that nobody could get inside. Then she turned, and that was when she saw Harry looking directly at her.

“Can I help you?” She muttered, fidgeting with the keys she was holding in her hand.

He inhaled the smoke from his cigarette, holding it for a second or so before he exhaled, “Heard you were asking questions.”

YN’s heart drops slightly, heat pulsating around her body, “Am I not allowed to ask questions?”

He ran his teeth over his bottom lip, placing the cigarette back in his mouth, “Can’t stop you from doing that, but any questions you have about me, you can ask me yourself.”

YN just pursed her lips and nodded, “Okay then… do you always stalk women when they’re leaving work?”

Harry didn’t seem shocked by her words, or react in any way to them at all, which was surprising to her. But, then again, she hadn’t seen much of a reaction out of this man this entire time she had known of him.

“Only the ones that have worked in my bar for a week.”

“Your bar?” YN widened her eyes, “Thought Mick owned it?”

Harry shook his head, “I do. Mick’s my employee, and so are you.”

“Do you not trust me or something? Think I’m walking away with pocketfuls of cash?”

“I would already know if you’d done that, and you wouldn’t be working here anymore,” YN just nodded, “But this side of a town can be sketchy at night, and you never know who could be lurking.”

YN just scoffed, turning to walk away from the man, “Thank you, but I can look after myself.”

“Suit yourself,” Harry shrugged, climbing onto his bike, and kicking the stand-up. YN could hear the engine turning on, the loud rumble filling the empty street.

YN continued walking, expecting him to speed past her but he didn’t. The low rumble continued down the street, even when she turned – the sound turned too. It was frustrating and annoying. All YN wanted to do was to get home, have something to eat and get in bed. Instead, she was having to deal with what was becoming an annoying rider, who couldn’t seem to leave her alone.

This continued for around ten minutes, and with each second that passed YN was getting more and more annoyed. Just as she turned onto the edge of her street, the apartment she shared with her roommate Ashley coming into view in the distance, she decided that enough was enough.

She stopped and turned around on the pavement, Harry pulling in on his bike to stop just in front of her. YN sighed and placed her hand on her hips.

“Do we have a problem?”

Harry rested his hands on his bike still, but was facing her, “No problem.”

“Then why are you following me home?” A small chuckle escaped her lips, “You know those strange people you were talking about earlier; you do know you’re acting like one of them?”

“You’re one of us now,” He shrugs, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world – it certainly wasn’t for YN at all.

“That means you follow me home?” The confusion grows with every moment in YN, and yet Harry doesn’t seem the slightest bit worried.

“You didn’t want a ride,” He pulls his carton of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up, “Had to make sure you got home safe.”

“Right,” YN just nods, “Well, I think I can manage on my own from here. And, if I’m all of a sudden one of you should I expect my jacket in the post? Or do you do collection?”

With a final scoff, she turned and walked away from the man. This time, when the engine started, YN didn’t turn to look at Harry and instead carried on to her front door. It was only then that she turned to peer over her shoulder, just in time to see Harry speed past her and into the night.

She had an incline that this job was going to be interesting, but she had no idea just how much.

It wasn’t necessarily a normal working pattern that YN had found herself in.

Sleeping for most of the day and being awake all night wasn’t necessarily the big girl working pattern that she had aspired to when she was younger, but for the time being she was enjoying it. It did mean that when Ashley returned from her nine-to-five working as a receptionist (YN couldn’t think of anything worse to be honest), YN was just getting ready to start her day.

YN was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a half-eaten sandwich clutched tightly in her hand. She wasn’t too hungry, but she knew that if she didn’t eat something before, she left for work she would regret it later on. The second that Ashley stepped through the door and threw her bag down on the floor, she threw YN a quizzical look.

“What?” YN asked, wiping the mayo that rested on the curve of her lip off with her thumb.

“Do you happen to know anything about the smoking-hot rider staring at the apartment from across the street?”

YN’s entire face dropped, “What?”

Ashley walked over and dropped down on the other side of the sofa, reaching out to steal one of YN’s chips from her plate. Ashley seemed slightly unfazed by the newfound stalker YN had acquired, and that stressed the girl out significantly.

“What do you mean?” YN pushed herself up, making her way over to the window where there he was. Resting against his bike, cigarette resting from his lips sat Harry, staring at the front door to the building with an unreadable expression on his face,

“He’s been there since this morning,” Ashley adds to the conversation causally, running a hand through her hair which she had just pulled out of its undo, “At first, I thought he was waiting for Sandy, you know, from 2.B but then I saw the jacket and realised he must be here for you.”

“He’s not here for me,” YN shook her head, slapping the curtains shut and walking back over to her friend, “He’s stalking me, I can’t believe you’re not more stressed about this.”

Ashley just shrugged, “Worse people to be stalked by, I suppose. He’s one of Clover’s, he’ll be harmless.”

“No, Ashley, he’s not just one of Clover’s,” YN sighed, running a hand over her face before scooting around the apartment to grab her belongings, “He is Clover.”

It was Ashley’s face that dropped this time, “What do you mean?”

“That’s Harry,” YN pulled each one of her pumps on her feet, “He founded the gang!”

“You’re kidding,” Ashley all but screams, “Jesus YN, I knew I was concerned about this job, but I think you’ve done pretty alright for yourself.”

YN just shook her head. She grabbed her jacket, and her bag and made her way over to the door.

“If I go missing, you know who’s responsible,” With that, YN turned away from her friend and rushed out of the door.

She took the stairs down from her apartment at double speed, almost tripping over her feet multiple times. She pulled her jacket on just as she got to the front door. Just before she was going to push it open, just stopped and hesitated for a second. One deep breath in and out was all it took to compose herself, and then she pushed the door open.

Harry spotted her immediately, throwing the cigarette he had in his hand a few metres away from his bike, where a collection was beginning to grow. YN made sure to check the left and the right of her before crossing the road, not quite fancying becoming roadkill this early in the day.

“You’re lucky my neighbours didn’t call the cops on you,” Is the first thing that slips from YN’s lips, before she realises how stupid that sounds.

For the first time since she met him, a small smile crosses Harry’s lips. She had amused him, and oh did she want to do it again.

“You know you can’t stay out here all day,” She follows with, “I’m going to the bar now anyway.”

“I got something for you,” Harry pushed himself up off the bike and that’s when she saw it.

A denim jacket, smaller than the others that she had seen but still carrying the ever-so-known Clover’s Riders logo on the back. That four-leaf clover was known all over town, and towns for miles in every direction and now it seemed YN had one of her own. It would open paths for her but also close them as well. She knew that the second she accepted that jacket, things would change all over again.

“I don’t even ride, Harry,” She sighed, shaking her head slightly, “I’ve never been on a bike in my life.”

He just shrugged once more, “There’s always time to change that.”

YN toyed up her options, and it took a lot less time than she had thought it would to swipe the jacket from his hands. She shrugged off the one she was wearing and slipped her arms inside the material. It was the perfect fit, exactly what she would have chosen for herself. Harry beamed another smile at her and swung his leg over his bike once more.

“C’mon,” He tilted his head at her, “I have something I want to show you.”

“I’ll be late for work,” YN shook her head, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from throwing her leg over the side of the bike and using Harry’s shoulder to help steady herself as she got on.

“You’ll be fine,” Harry spoke, and that’s when YN realised that whilst yes, she was probably going to be late for work, she was also on the back of the owner’s bike – so the trouble couldn’t be too grave, “Hold on tight.”

YN did as the man said, wrapping her arms around Harry’s waist. The second that the engine started, and Harry kicked the stand-up they went flying down the road, and she realised in that exact moment why he said tight. YN’s body lurched forward into Harry’s, her cheek resting against the leather of his jacket, and her hands tightening around him.

Once the initial fear had worn off, and YN finally peered over the man’s shoulder – she would be lying if she said that it didn’t feel in a word freeing. The wind through her hair, the chill of the speed at which she was going laced with the feeling of Harry pressed so closely against her. Sure, she had been scared but now she knew that there wasn’t anything to be scared of. It wasn’t a scary thing, instead, it was something to be enjoyed.

YN’s lips curled upwards, a slight giggle leaving them as she noticed they went speeding through a red light. Many, and by many YN meant most, of the riders had a back pocket full of speeding tickets, and lights that they’ve jumped and yet none of them seemed to care. It was as though all of the law-abiding parts of their brains didn’t function when they were on bikes. On second thought, even when they weren’t on the bikes the law-abiding parts of their brain didn’t function.

Harry pulled over just as they joined the road which took them out of the city. They had completely passed Clover’s, and YN hadn’t the faintest clue of how late she was for work at this point, but it didn’t matter. It would take a lot for this smile to leave her face today. Once the bike came to a stop, YN used Harry’s shoulder to push up off of it.

Harry sits on the bike, but his eyes never leave the girl. The way she almost looked like a baby deer as she got her grounding once she was off the bike, the way her hair stuck out in every and all directions, and most importantly the beaming smile that never left her face. For the first time in a long time, there were no thoughts in YN’s head. There were no worries about growing up and getting a proper job, or stress about money – it was completely and utterly freeing. She supposed that was why there were so many of the riders and she supposed they were all chasing that feeling.

“You’ve got to teach me how to ride,” She sighed, the blissful smile never leaving her lips.

Harry just nodded, “Whenever you want.”

“Really?” Her face widened in excitement.

Harry shrugged, “You’ve gotta know how to ride if you’re going to be a rider.”

YN just nodded, and almost jumped back onto the bike. Harry didn’t say anything when she wrapped her arms back around his waist, not a single gap between their bodies but it just felt so comfortable. Harry kicked the stand down once more and sprang straight into action, turning slowly around on the road before speeding up the second they were on the straight back to the town.

All YN knew was that she was going to savour the feeling of the wind in her hair.

It was another Saturday night, and it was packed in the bar.

YN was so thankful that she could stay behind the safety of the actual bar and not venture out into the rest of the room. The men had just come back from a ride, and they were all excited and loud and wanting nothing but drink upon drink upon drink. She had been there from earlier on in the day today, and when Mick showed up later in the evening, she hadn’t managed to utter a single word but hello to him since.

All she could think of was the fact that once the rush had died down, it would be her time to go home and rest. In what felt like a very long few months of working every day (at first YN hadn’t minded, but she was slowly getting more and more burnt out) it was finally time for her to have a day off. Mick had graciously said to her the other day that he could handle Sunday on his own, and those words felt like gold slipping from his lips. She didn’t have a single clue of what she was going to do with her day, all she knew was that it was going to be relaxing.

She just had to get through this night first.

At first, the night seemed fine. Everyone was in good spirits and there was nothing more than a few drunken disagreements that sorted themselves out. YN had taken that as the opportunity to make her way over to where Harry was sitting and replenish his beer while he was there. It was then that the door was thrown open, and the entire atmosphere in the room changed.

What had at first been a lovely evening had changed within the second, and it was all because of a man that she hadn’t recognised. He didn’t have a rider’s jacket on his back, and that should have been YN’s first clue that this man was going to be in trouble. This was a riders’ bar, and those jackets were almost like a rite of passage. Without one, people stuck out like a sore thumb.

It became even more obvious to YN when the man beelined straight over to where Harry was sitting. He didn’t sit and instead leant over Harry, so his focus was on him. YN stayed close, but she didn’t want to make it too obvious that she was listening. She wasn’t the only one either – she could see other riders peering over at them from where they were sitting.

“You said if I did it, I’d get my jacket,” Those were the first words that came out of the man’s mouth – not even a greeting of hello, “I did it. Where’s the fucking jacket?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a second or so. Instead, he lifted his recently replenished beer to his lips and took a swag. He was doing as he always did – taking his sweet darn time.

“I said I’d think about it,” Harry mumbles, shrugging slightly as he did, “I’ve thought about it… and no.”

The man smacks his hand down onto the bar top, the sound echoing throughout the room. It silenced everyone, and all eyes turned to the two men. YN’s eyes looked towards Mick with a panicked expression on them but he shook his head, hoping that would calm the girls down.

“That wasn’t the fucking deal,” The man spits, coming right up into Harry’s face but it didn’t seem to deter the man at all, “The deal was to drop the shipment, I get the fucking jacket.”

Harry finally turned to look at the man, his stern expression never wavering, “Do you think I want someone like you, someone that doesn’t listen wearing one of my jackets?”

The man didn’t like that response, and it seemed as though as quickly as YN could blink her eyes the man was grasping the lapels of Harry’s jacket and pulling him up from the stool. He was then pushed straight into the bar, a slight grunt leaving his lips as he did. There was the initial sound of beer stools scratching on the floor, and other Riders were reading to split the two men up but all it took was Harry lifting one of his hands and they all stopped in their places.

“I don’t want someone who’s that willing to fight one of his men wearing a jacket.”

That was all it took for the other man to make the first punch. His arm pulled backwards, and his fist hit Harry straight across the jaw. The skin immediately went red, but Harry didn’t look like a man who had just been hit straight across the jaw. The bar stayed silent, obviously waiting for whatever Harry’s retaliation was going to be.

What YN, and certainly a lot of others in the bar hadn’t expected was Harry to reach behind him, to where his empty beer bottle was sat and hit the man over the head with it. The man fell to the ground, his grip on Harry letting go instantly. Harry lifted his hand, wincing when he noticed that a shard of glass from the broken bottle had lodged itself in his skin.

He just sighed, rubbing his forehead with his uninjured hand, “Get him out of here.”

Three of the men who were watching closely immediately listened to him, walking over, and picking the man up. They carried him out of the bar and were back to their drinks in what seemed like minutes. It was as though nobody truly seemed to care as to what had just happened and were more excited to get back to their drinks truly as though nothing had happened.

YN watched as Harry threw back the glass of whisky that had sat on the bar waiting for him (courtesy of Mick). That seemed like something that YN would have to take note of. With that, he dropped a few bills on the counter and stormed out of the bar. YN watched this and immediately started to pull her apron off her body.

“Mick,” The older man hummed from the other side of the bar, “I’m going outside for a break. I’ll only be a minute.”

The older man just threw YN a look, obviously having spotted who had left the bar just before she wanted to, “Be careful.”

YN just laughed, throwing the latch open, “I’m always careful.”

The second she stepped outside; she was shocked to see that Harry’s bike was still there, but he wasn’t sitting on it. There was a slight chill in the night air, and YN looked from left to right to try and spot him, but he was still nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t until YN made her way towards the alley that followed the side of the bar that she finally realised where he had gone.

It was dark, but not dark enough to miss the figure leaning against the wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips. YN wrapped her arms around herself, wanting to conceal at least some of the warmth from inside. As her shoes crunched on the path, Harry’s eyes turned to look at her. He was ready for it to be someone else, and it was almost as though when he noticed that it was her – his features seemed to relax.

“How’s your hand?” She asked, coming to a stop right in front of him.

He raised his palm towards her, “It’s been better.”

YN winced to herself slightly as she looked at his hand, seeing the shard of glass still sticking out of the skin. Whilst she didn’t have a first aid kit on her body at this exact moment, it was good that she knew where one was.

“Come with me,” She nodded, walking further down the alley to the bar’s back entrance.

YN didn’t even turn to make sure that he was following her, she just knew that he would be. She held the door open for him, and the one that opened to the office of the bar (where Mick spent most of his time during the day, sorting the books out) and pointed at the chair by the desk.

Whilst Harry sat down without a word to her, YN reached up to the shelf above them and brought the first aid kit down. Harry’s eyes watched her as she pulled tweezer, gauze, and some antiseptic to clean and dress his wound. It was all very silent, and still but caring.

“Can I?” She asked, checking sure it was okay to touch his hand.

Harry nodded, placing his hand in hers. To YN, she wasn’t sure if she was truly touch-starved that feeling of his hand in hers felt truly intimate. She got to work straight away, pulling the glass out with the tweezers ever so carefully before wiping the surface of the cut. Even though YN knew that it would have stung, Harry’s face didn’t show anything, only one raised an eyebrow slightly.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” She mumbles, face still full of concentration on making sure the wound is fully clean before she wraps it.

Harry just nodded, “You see wounds like these before?”

YN nodded, “I’ve worked in bars before – of course, I’ve seen wounds like these before.”

Harry just nods, allowing YN to move his hand at her ease to ensure that it is wrapped tightly and securely. He opened his mouth once she had finished, as though he was going to ask her something, but he closed it straight away. She wanted nothing more than to tell him that he could ask her anything that he wanted to, but she didn’t want to scare him away.

“You’re all set,” She offered him a small smile.

“Thank you,” The words sort of felt foreign, but very sincere coming from his lips, “I… you didn’t have to.”

YN just shrugged, “Wasn’t going to let you bleed out – would’ve been bad for business.”

Harry offered her a small smile at her attempt at a joke, “I’m sorry about what happened in there as well… usually we try to keep those sorts of things out of the bar.”

“Harry,” His name came out of her lips softly, hoping that would be the thing to tell him that it was okay. That she wasn’t angry at him, “I know… it doesn’t bother me – I promise.”

He just nods, “I knew that, you know.”

YN furrows her eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“That first day,” He reached out to her, and did the last thing that she would ever expect – grabbed her hand, “The way you dealt with some of the lads… I knew you were different.”

“It was you…” The words slipped out of YN’s mouth before she could truly register them, “You saw me that day.”

It all made sense. YN had noticed Harry that very first day that she’d appeared at Clover, and whilst originally Mick had said no, he had changed his mind and said yes. To YN, it had looked and seemed that Mick was the one who had made that decision, and yet it made sense that it was Harry to be the one who changed Mick’s mind. Harry, if he had been sitting at his barstool would have been a metre or so away from that conversation – and he would have heard every word that had been said.

“I did,” Harry nods, claiming every thought that YN had to be true, “I saw you, the way you spoke to them, the way you stood your ground and god, YN, I was hooked.”

That was the first time that YN had heard Harry speak her name, and she was addicted. She wanted to hear it over, and over and over again. He noticed the slight shift in her and used his legs to roll the chair he was sitting on closer to where she was resting against the desk. Then he slipped his uninjured arm around her body and pulled her down to him. She straddled his knees, relishing the feeling of his body beneath hers.

“I…” Her words came out as a whisper, “I felt the same.”

Relief. That was the look on his face – it was a true relief.

“You did?”

“God, Harry,” YN giggles, shaking her head, “I tried not to, but I would be lying if I said that most of my thoughts haven’t been filled with you. Wanting to know more.”

“You can know anything,” His thumb slipped underneath the thin material of her shirt, a heat spreading across her entire body from that one single touch, “Ask me anything, everything – I’ll answer. Whatever you want to know?”

YN pondered that for a second. She could have asked him anything, and yet there was one thought which was present in her mind more than any of the others. An hour ago, this question would have been risky – she just wouldn’t have asked it. Yet, in the safety of this room – away from peering eyes, or anyone who could make assumptions as to what it meant – she wanted nothing more than to ask it.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Harry exhaled a breath, lifting his hand to rest against her cheek, “More than anything.”

YN nodded.

“Harry…” He hummed at the call of her name, “Kiss me.”

His thumb danced from her cheek, down to her lip. He ran it across the skin of her bottom lip, pushing down slightly so that her lips parted for him. The only sound in the room was YN’s heavy breathing, a response to the teasing that was on display right in front of her.

Then his face inched forward, and his lips were on hers. It didn’t take long for his tongue to slip past her parted lips, dancing with her own. This closeness to someone, the vulnerability – YN had missed it. She pushed her body forward towards Harry’s, slipping her hands in the curls at the nape of his neck. His hands, never mind the bandaged one which would have still caused him pain, rested upon her denim-clad arse. They found their home resting there, and YN wasn’t about to move them.

Harry pulled away from her lips, obviously needing oxygen as much as she did. But he wasted no time in dropping his attack down her neck, his teeth nipping the skin there. YN’s hands still rested in the curls at the nape of his neck, and heavy breaths parted from her lips.

“Harry,” She gasped as he started to suck at the sweet spot where her neck met her collarbone, “I need to get back to work.”

“No, you don’t,” He mumbled, and YN just rolled her eyes.

“I’ve deserted Mick,” She continues, “He might need help.”

“Mick’ll be fine,” He pulled his head up, resting on her chest as he peered up at her, “And anyway, I’m your boss.”

YN shook her head, “I need to go.”

Harry groaned but finally nodded, “Ride home with me?”

“Of course,” YN pecked Harry’s lips one last time pushed herself up from him and walked out of the room.

Harry’s eyes never left her the entire time.  

“Harry, no, I’m going to tip over.”

When Harry had dropped YN at home last night, he had muttered the words that he would see her tomorrow. Before she could clarify that she wasn’t working, he had sped off on his motorcycle into the dark of the night. YN should have known, though, that Harry knew she wasn’t working. It became even more clear when Ashley shouted at her from the kitchen at around midday today, telling her that her Rider was waiting for her.

Instead of the annoyance that YN felt the first time, there was a skip in her step this time. She had taken some time that morning to make herself look that little bit more presentable and waited for him. After their kiss the previous night in the office, and the slight peck that he had given her when she had climbed off his bike yesterday.

When she had bounced over to him earlier, a smile beaming on his face she didn’t have a single care as to what she would be doing that day – all she knew was that she was going to enjoy it. Even when she climbed on the back of his bike and asked where they were going – the smile never left her face. He refused to tell her, though, saying that it was a surprise.

“Harry, I don’t want to,” YN shook her head, hands grasping tightly onto the handles of the bike, “I’m going to fall off, or I’m going to crash your bike.”

What Harry had planned for the girl was to teach her how to ride. Whilst at the start YN had wanted nothing more than to learn how to ride, now that she was sitting on Harry’s bike without him there – she was terrified. Harry was standing close to her, cigarette dangling from his lips and an amused expression on his face.

“You’re not going to fall,” Harry shakes his head, “I’m right here… and I promise I won’t let you crash.”

“You can say that Harry, but you can’t promise,” YN was sitting on the bike, with her feet resting on the ground and absolutely no attempt at all to move.

He threw his cigarette on the floor, moving over so that he could wrap his arms around her waist, his hands coming to rest upon hers on the handle. He turned the engine on, and even though it was YN’s hands on the handle, Harry was controlling it. They went very slow – they had to so that Harry could walk at the side of them.

“I’m going to let go,” Harry spoke after a minute or so, but YN shook her head.

“I’m not ready,” YN pushed her body into his slightly, “I’m going to crash.”

“There’s nothing for you to crash into,” Harry peels one of his hands off of hers, “I trust you… you’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t as though he was lying. Harry had driven them out to a deserted road just out of town. Close enough away that they’d be home at a normal time, but far enough away that there wasn’t any traffic which would interrupt them. There wasn’t anything but stone and grass around them, and whilst if YN came to a haphazard stop, it wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing ever – there wasn’t a lot of damage that she could do to Harry’s bike.

Harry let go of her other hand, and she was doing it. Granted, she didn’t go over 2mph, but she was still riding the bike on her own. She wasn’t comfortable enough to attempt to turn yet, so she just came to a slow stop a few metres further down from where Harry was. She kicked the stand down and climbed off the bike – turning towards Harry with a smile on her face.

“I did it!” She bounced over to Harry and wrapped her arms around his neck, his coming to rest around her waist.

“Never doubted you,” He leaned down to place a kiss on her lips, pulling her body flush against his. Before anything more could happen, the sound of crunching on the road, as well as the sound of a siren interrupted them.

YN’s heart started to beat rapidly at the sight of a police car inching towards them. Whilst YN had dealt with police before working in her previous bars, she hadn’t ever been out in the open with her and only one other person when talking to them. Knowing that Harry also ran a motorcycle gang added another level of worry to it.

Harry just pulled YN with him, going to rest against his bike. He looked completely unfazed, whilst YN truly was shitting in her boots slightly. The police car stopped right in front of them, and as the door swung open to the car, Harry lit up a cigarette and brought it up to his lips – again, making it aware that he was completely unfazed by what was happening.

“Styles,” The officer sighed, slamming his car door behind him shit as he walked towards the two of them, “You’re not an easy man to find.”

“Hmm,” Harry just hums, inhaling from his cigarette, “I had no idea you were even looking for me… I wouldn’t have just stood in the middle of the road if I knew.”

The officer chuckled, placing his hands on his hips, “We had reports last night that you attacked a man.”

Harry shook his head, “Couldn’t have been me.”

“It happened at your bar,” The officer took a step forward towards Harry, “Had reports that you hit him over the head with a beer bottle.”

Harry just chuckles, “Officer Thompson, I don’t have time for this he said she said bullshit. If you’ve got something to say to me, I think you should say it.”

The officer just hummed, “Where were you last night?”

“I was at the bar,” Harry nodded, “All night.”

YN started to panic from beside him, but she tried not to make it obvious. Harry must have complete and utter trust in his riders to not say anything to the police. It made sense now to YN as to why that man hadn’t been given a jacket. He had instigated the fight, and yet he had run straight to the police with it. He was a coward and a rat.

“Can anyone corroborate this?”

���I can,” YN was surprised at how strongly her voice came out, “I was there with him all night, I work there.”

The officer hums once more, his eyes dropping down to focus on Harry once more. YN realises that it’s then that the officer has spotted his bandaged hand. YN’s mind starts to spiral slightly, hoping that one of them will be able to come up with something quickly.

“What, uh,” The officer couldn’t hide the smile on his face, obviously thinking that he had found him out, “What happened to your hand, Styles?”

Harry opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, so YN interrupts. She giggles slightly, knowing exactly what type of character was going to be believable for this officer. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I’m so sorry, officer, that was my fault,” YN took a small step towards the officer, but not far enough that she wasn’t in arms reach of Harry, “See, I’m real clumsy. And yesterday, I dropped a whole crate of beer and Harry heard the crash, and he helped me clean up – unfortunately, he cut his hand in the process.”

The officer’s eyes moved between Harry and YN. There was no way at that point for YN to try and guess what he was thinking – or what he was going to say. Then, when the officer’s face broke out into a smile just the same as YN’s, she knew she had convinced him.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss, and I hope you have a good rest of your day,” Then the officer turned to Harry, and the smile on his face dropped, “I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Styles.”

“And I’ll be looking forward to it Officer Thompson.”

Harry rested against his bike the entire time, whilst YN had her arms crossed against her chest. They didn’t say another word to each other until they watched the car turn around and drive away from them. It was only then that YN turned to Harry, who was running a hand over his face. Sighing, YN walked over to him, grabbing his hands (but making sure to be careful of his injured hand).

“You didn’t have to do that,” Harry shakes his head, pulling her hands up so that he can place a kiss on the back of them.

“I know,” YN nods, “But I wanted to.”

Harry rests his chin upon their connected hands, “I wanna take you somewhere.”

YN would be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought about where Harry lived once or twice because she had. He had been to her apartment a few times to pick her up, and whilst she hadn’t necessarily wanted to be that forward and ask him where he lived, there was a part of her which wondered about it.

It was a strange circumstance. Where does the leader of a gang live? Where does he rest his head at night? Where does make his coffee in the morning? Whilst YN wouldn’t necessarily admit it, she was an inquisitive person.  

When Harry’s bike came to a stop outside of a garage, one that seemingly had an apartment attached to the top of it – it all made sense. Yes, the bar had to be doing well, with how many people were in it daily. But there had to be another way that Harry was making money, and it seemed as though this was it. She wondered if this had anything to do with the shipments that the other man had been speaking about.

He kicked the standout and gave YN the space the climb off before he did. He walked over to the shutter, unlocked the padlock, and threw it open. The apartment didn’t look too big, but the shop itself was huge. She had expected a car, maybe a few bikes – but she hadn’t expected rows upon rows of bikes lining the side of the walls. In the middle, YN could see the different stations where Harry and some of the other members worked.

“Are these all yours?” YN asked, her finger reaching out to run across the glossy black exterior of one of the bikes closest to her.

“Most of them,” Harry shrugged, dropping the shutter closed behind the two of them after pushing his bike inside, “Me and a few others, we buy them and restore them, make them better to sell on.”

“God, Harry,” YN turns to him, an expression of what could only be described as amazement on her features, “This is amazing.”

He just offered her a small smile, taking small steps towards her until he was close enough to wrap his arms around her middle. YN giggled slightly, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder as he pulled her closer to him.

“Pick one.”

The features on YN’s lips dropped again, “What?”

“Pick one,” Harry repeated, “A bike.”

“Yeah, I gathered that, Harry, I’m just confused as to why.”

He just shrugged, leaning back against the workbench near the two of them. YN turned around so that she was facing him, and Harry at once pressed his hands against her waist. It was funny to YN, to see the big, scary, gang member was so soft around her, and they hadn’t necessarily known each other very long.

“You said it yourself,” He shrugged, his hands pulling her between her body between his open legs, “If you’re gonna be a rider, you’ve got to ride. Seems like you need a bike to do that.”

“Yeah, but I’ll buy one,” YN spoke, as though it was the most obvious thing in the word, “When I have the cash for it.”

Harry shook his head, “No need, rather have you on one of these. Tested them myself, they’re all safe.”

YN just shook her head, propelling her body even further forward so that she could wrap her arms around Harry’s neck and press her lips against his. It was a clumsy kiss, with both of their teeth clashing and smiles upon their features but they did not care.

“Thank you,” She mumbled against his lips, pressing a flurry of chaste kisses to them afterwards.

Harry shook his head, “No need – pick one, baby.”

YN pushed her body up and started to walk up and down the rows of bikes until she spotted it. It was about halfway down the row, a bike with dark green glossy accents, looking nothing but sleek with the dark metal of the engine. It was the one that she wanted, and the second she was standing in front of it she knew it was hers. With that beaming smile across her features, YN turned and launched herself at Harry, wrapping her legs around his waist and his arms around his neck. His hands came to rest on the plump skin of her arse over her dark denim jeans. Even though YN suspected that she had caught him off guard, he didn’t show it on his face.

“How can I ever thank you?” She asked between a litter of kisses to his lips, a boyish smile crossing his features afterwards that YN wants nothing more than to bottle up and remember forever.

“That smile of yours is enough,” Harry nods at her, pressing another full kiss to her lips.

YN tilts her head to the side, turning to look at Harry with a slight smirk crossing her features. His eyebrows furrowed as though he already suspected she was coming up with something in her head.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“Maybe…” YN starts, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip, hesitating, “Maybe there’s another way I can thank you.”

Harry’s eyes widened, as though he was finally catching on to the thoughts swimming around in YN’s head.

“We don’t have to,” Harry shakes his head quickly. “I promise I’m not expecting anything from you.”

YN just shakes her head, leaning forward to place another kiss on his lips. Her hands tugged at the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I know you’re not,” YN offers him a smile, “I want to. I promise.”

Harry shook his head, a groan emitting from his lips as he tugged her even closer to him if that was possible. YN giggles at his obvious joy at her statement.

“God,” He rests his forehead against hers, “I know it’s wrong, but I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

Harry turns, as though he’s going to walk out of the garage, but YN stops him. He furrows his eyebrows at her, and she just giggles once more.

“Want it here.”

“What?”

“Want it here, want you on the bench,” Harry groans once more, moving to drop her down upon the workbench that he had been rested upon earlier.

“Are you sure I haven’t dreamt you up?”

“Nope,” YN shakes her head, “I’m real.”

YN threads her fingers back through the curls at the nape of his neck, bringing his face back to hers. It doesn’t take long for their lips to connect once more. It wasn’t sweet or light. It was rough, as though both of them were finally able to do what they had both been thinking about.

Harry’s hands start to move down her body, resting on the hem of her jeans. She can feel his thumbs pressing down into the skin of her waist, and when it registers in her brain what he was trying to do YN pulls away, shaking her head.

“Not yet,” She lightly pushes his body to the side so that she can jump off the bench, “I haven’t thanked you yet.”

“You don’t have to,” YN’s hands rest on the lapels of his jacket, waiting for his nod before she pushes it off his shoulders.

“I want to.”

It takes just one swipe for Harry to pull his shirt over his head whilst YN’s hands come to rest upon his belt buckle. YN’s eyes widen at the sight of his exposed chest, as well as the tattoos that litter his sin. YN knew that Harry had tattoos; she had seen the ones on his arms multiple times, but it felt different to see the ones on his chest.

Her fingers work quickly to pull Harry’s belt buckle open, working on the button and zip of his jeans next. YN drops down to her knees, pushing Harry back slightly so that he’s resting against the workbench. Harry peers down at her, his chest heaving up and down in anticipation. Her hand rests upon the grey material of his boxers, palming his already semi-hard cock through the light material.

“You like teasing?”

YN shrugs lightly, “I have no clue what you mean.”

Harry laughs, watching her intently as her fingers loop into the band of his boxers, pulling them down to expose him to her. YN finds herself unable to pull her eyes away from his cock. She knew it had to be big from palming him through his boxers but seeing it before she made her mouth water and pressure to build in the pit of her stomach.

She placed a light kiss on his tip, which was already red and leaking from his obvious arousal. YN smiled, giving it a lick from the base to the tip before she used her hand to give it a few tugs. YN was confident in her moves, even though she had only done it a few times before in her life. She gained more confidence from the moans leaving Harry’s lips; they were deep and quiet, but she could hear them, and they caused her to squeeze her thighs together in hopes that it would give her some relief.

“YN… please,” It almost sounded as though he was pleading with her to do something, and YN almost moaned at the sound.

YN wraps her lips around the tip of Harry’s cock, beginning to bob her head up and down. One of her hands rested upon his thigh, whilst the other wrapped around the base of his cock, helping her with what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Her tongue lightly grazed his tip, earning a louder moan from Harry that egged her on further.

“Fuck… YN.”

Harry’s hands came to rest in her hair, helping her to move her head up and down his cock. It was a light tug that caused YN to moan around his cock, and she could feel Harry resisting from bucking his hips to meet her. Instead, she continued to bob her head, speeding up in hopes that it would help him recover from her teasing.

“YN gotta pull away,” Harry says after a minute or so, his grip on her hair tightening, “I’m gonna cum.”

YN doesn’t stop, however, instead, she keeps going until she hears him moan louder and start to cum down her throat. When she looks up at him, his head is thrown back, and his eyes are closed. She works her head up and down until he’s finished, only pulling away then. When she looks back up at him he has a look in his eyes that makes her assume that they aren’t done.

YN giggles as he puts his hands on her waist and pulls her up so she’s standing, immediately placing a kiss on her lips, seemingly not caring about the fact that his cum was on them. YN’s legs nearly gave out then and there, and she had to place her hands on his biceps to steady herself.

“Did that show my thanks?” She asked, tilting her head to the side innocently.

Harry wraps his arms around her thighs once more, picking her up effortlessly.

“Damn right, it did,” Harry starts to walk over to the door that she suspects goes into the house, “But I’m not done with you yet.”

It was quiet at Clover’s, a lull mid-afternoon on a Friday before everyone picked their spots for the night. YN had spent an hour or so cleaning and drying the glasses that had been used earlier in the day, making sure that they were to have enough for the night ahead.

The repeated motion of washing and drying gave her time to think, and more often than not, she found herself daydreaming about her morning, which she had spent in Harry’s bed, wrapped up in his arms. The two of them had been pretty inseparable before, but after he had gifted her the bike, it had seemingly gotten even worse, if that was possible. It had been weeks since that day, and YN could probably count on one hand the nights she had spent alone since then. Harry waited every night for her after work, and even when he couldn’t she would return to his house and wait for him there.

They hadn’t spoken about what they were necessarily, but that didn’t matter to YN. She didn’t need a label to know how she felt about Harry, and she assumed Harry felt about her also. For the first time in a long time YN was happy, and even though she was only a bartender and that useless history degree of hers wasn’t doing much – she wasn’t yearning for something else, for something better. YN truly felt as though it couldn’t get any better than it currently was.

The door to the bar pushed open, and whilst YN thought it was probably a rider coming in for a drink, she was shocked to see that it was Mick, obviously dropping in to start his shift. Thankfully, since YN had taken the day shift she didn’t have to stay until close tonight, meaning that she could spend more time in bed with Harry to end her week.

“Hey, YN,” She offered Mick a smile, “Just lemme drop my shit in the back and then you can go on break.”

“Thanks, Mick.”

Once he was back out, and she had passed over what she was doing to him, she made her way outside with the sandwich that Harry had made for her earlier. She was going to make her lunch, but Harry insisted that he make it for her. YN smiled at the memory of her sitting upon his kitchen counter, clad only in one of his t-shirts and a pair of pyjama shorts. They had laughed and joked and, at one point, had a break to dance around the kitchen to the song that was playing over the radio.

YN hadn’t had many relationships before, two at most she could think of, but they were never like this. They always felt transactional to YN. But with Harry, it truly felt as though they were two halves. There was a level of domesticity that YN loved more than anything with him, and every little task that they did together meant so much.

Once YN had eaten her sandwich, her thoughts filled with Harry and their morning. YN pulled her legs underneath her and began to read her book, knowing that she could get a chapter or so read before her break was over. It was a book about the Tudors she was reading, something that had been a passion of hers during her degree. It had been a while since she had read anything, but she supposed that the want came from her peace and happiness being restored.

She had just finished a chapter on Henry VIII’s Economic policy when she heard noise from the front of the bar. It was loud, and the voices that were speaking were quick, but it was muffled, so she couldn’t quite decipher what was being said. Putting her bookmark into place and closing the book, she pushed up from the chair and made her way towards the bar.

Mick was standing there, with three or four others in front of him. They looked panicked, and their words reflected that.

“Tell me again,” Mick placed his hands down on the counter, “I can’t tell a word you’re saying when you’re talking that quickly.”

“An accident, Mick,” It was Taylor who spoke, “There was an accident. We were riding along, and this truck came outta nowhere, sent him flying.”

YN moved towards them, her heart immediately starting to thump within her chest.

“Who?” Her words came out quickly, all of the men’s heads turning towards her, “Who went flying?”

“YN… I…” Taylor took a step towards her, his entire face dropping.

That was when she knew.

Her palms started to sweat, and her body felt heavy. There was a dizziness inside her head, and for one second she thought that she was going to fall to ground.

It was Harry.

“Where is he?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, the tears finally starting to collect within her waterline.

“YN…” Mick started.

“No, Mick,” She shook her head, “Where is he? Tell me where he is!”

Taylor took another step closer towards her, “I don’t know. The woman in the store across the street from where it happened phoned an ambulance, I left before they came. If I hazard a guess, they’ll be on their way to the hospital by now.”

YN nodded and before she knew it she was stalking her way outside and towards her bike. Ignoring the tears that were clouding her vision she climbed upon. Just as she was about to start it, a hand touched her elbow. It was Mick. She almost broke down crying there and then.

“Don’t,” Mick shook his head, “You can’t drive like that, darlin’. Let Taylor take you. Please.”

“He has to be okay,” YN shook her head, the sobs starting to wrack through her body.

Mick nodded, helping her off the bike, “He will be. But, if you wanna get there safely, in one piece let the boys take you.”

YN nods, walking over to Taylor’s bike and hopping on behind him. Mick gave her hand one last squeeze.

“Send him my love, okay?” Mick spoke and YN nodded, not trusting herself to be able to reply in that moment.

Taylor started the engine, and before she knew anything, they were hurtling down the street. This time, though, she wasn’t thinking about the wind in her hair.

[reds-writings]

souls further entwined

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: finally an update for these two! sorry to keep you waiting! I've got a lot of life changes in the works so updates might come a little slower over the next few months depending but i hope this tides y'all over for a bit! this takes place sometime after if only tonight we could sleep

word count: roughly 2.5k

warnings: (PLEASE LOOK BEFORE CONTINUING) discussions of abortion, child loss, forced/unsafe medical procedures, bad family situations, angst angst, cursing, semi-not-so-smut at the end, minors avert your gaze or else!!

The hidden gem of a restaurant that Rust had brought you to somewhere in the French Quarter was rather nice with its live jazz band playing in the corner and lavish decor. The tinkering of silverware layered on top of the low rumblings of fellow diners did what it could to fill the void of silence that had long settled between you and the man sitting adjacent. He had spontaneously asked you– well more like told you to go out with him tonight. Something about wanting to do things right once and for all after all this tiptoeing around.  The whole notion had taken you off guard, admittedly.

You’d been buzzing so bright leading up to tonight that you could've probably put a lightning bug to shame. He’d asked you on a real date. A step forward from the semi-clandestine meetings you’d both been settling on for far too long now. It was unlike him to outwardly admit to much but you doubted it was a wide occurrence that he’d take a girl on a date just because he was bored. This had meaning.

With that thought swirling in mind, you’d found your best dress and took what constituted as way too long of a pampering shower to best prepare for a promising night out with the man you'd become so deeply enamored with. It wasn’t often you got to get all prettied up for some fun given that work always managed to swallow you whole. 

God you’d been so excited. 

From the time you’d gotten into Rust’s Ford up until you’d sat down to eat he had yet to utter a single word to you. Hell, he’d hardly even managed to look at you either and it was starting to cause a distasteful rock that went by the name of dread to sink lower and lower in your gut. 

Dexterous fingers stayed picking at the table cloth as a form of lengthy distraction and you fought the bubbling urge to snatch his hand and demand what gives. It wasn’t hard to miss the anxiety bleeding from his form with those tense shoulders and that telltale faraway look in his eyes. You didn’t want to continue the cycle of jumping to conclusions when it came to the routine lack of forthcoming involving his more vulnerable thoughts out of insecurity so you bit the bullet,

“Y’know…usually on a date there’s a bit more talkin;. Maybe startin’ with questions like ‘what’s your favorite color’-- it’s blue by the way, or ‘where’d you get that lovely dress’. Could also do with lookin’ a little less green in the gills.”

That got him to stop fidgeting but a response was not yet prompted. You sighed and looked down at the vibrant cloth napkin in your lap,

“If you’re startin’ to regret this we can just forget about it and head back-”

“I don’t know if I can be what you need.” He all but blurted and it had your head shooting back up in suprise.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t…I don’t find myself being suited for marriage like before. I can’t give you kids because I don’t think it’s right-”

“Wait a minute just-...slow your roll for a second.” Your mind was going a mile a minute at his frank outburst and you were having trouble pinpointing just where it all came from. 

“First of all, I don’t necessarily need the promise of marriage to feel fulfilled. I’m about to hit 30 soon enough and I’ve supplied plenty for myself that I'm not sure some flimsy marriage papers can add on to. I’m not just sayin’ all this to make you feel better either so don’t go down that route.” You were tenderly stern in your delivery to make sure what you were saying was actually sticking without sounding offended.

All he could give was a slight nod as the tip of his thumb came to his mouth: a nervous tic.

“Secondly…” You cleared your throat slightly and gave yourself a moment of pause. The latter concern wasn’t that of an easy subject. For either of you. Besides your family and probably Marty, not many knew of your reality when it came to the idea of starting a family. 

“I can’t have children. So that wouldn’t even be on the table to begin with I suppose.” 

That seemed to stun Rust. His expression working out how, what, and when this came to be. You cleared your throat again. Talking about it was never easy no matter how much time passed.

“The gist of it is…well I got knocked up when I was sixteen. Total accident, shocker. And um…my pa didn't approve. Not one bit, bein’ the respectable county figure he was as a seasoned lawyer n' all.” 

Your sinuses began to sting but you willed away any threat of tears as you tried to explain. Rust didn't say a word, his expression hardening minutely with a knowing sense of where this was headed.

“I didn’t wanna listen. I was scared of course but the boy I was foolin’ around with at the time was nice and had a family who wanted to be involved so that was enough for me. My uppity family could shove it for all I cared,” You scoffed wryly but continued, “But pa was adamant. He couldn’t have some little whore of daughter muckin’ things up but we were a church family so abortion was obviously out of the question. At least one would think that was the case,” 

“Long story short he dragged me to some back alley clinic where things would be kept under wraps. They fuckin’ botched it of course and made me sterile. Didn’t really know how bad it was until another loss and a visit with the doctor after trying with a serious boyfriend some time ago…” You shrugged as you fiddled with your unused silverware. You hadn’t spoken with your family since then. Letting you be mutilated for the sake of preserving a frivolous public image was a hard thing to let go of.

You remember how sick you were afterward. Infection from the procedure and a decent amount of blood loss, go figure. You only recall the house's maids nursing you back.

Your pa had never been able to look you in the eye again. Your mama just pretended nothing had ever happened the way it did.

Sometimes your mind had the habit of taking a dark turn every now and then, wondering if they would’ve felt any remorse if their forced course of action ended up actually killing you. With a selfishness like they had you couldn't help but doubt it. 

They had always taken more pride in your sister anyway. 

“So yeah…you don’t have to worry about the possibility of kids when it comes to me. It’s not like with our line of work it’d be much of a good idea anyway. Marty’s a prime example I'd reckon.” Your laugh was brittle in a weak attempt to lift the heavy weight you felt like you’d set over the mood. 

Rust’s large hand reached over to encase your shaking one to garner your attention. Looking up you weren’t met with pity or disgust, but with recognition. One shared in the experience of grief. Of having something meant to be so precious ripped from you in the cruelest of ways. He didn’t feel sorry for you. He understood you. More than anyone else had or could. 

“You’re enough for me, Rust. I don’t know if you’ve noticed by now but there’s not much you can do to send me runnin’ for the hills. I like you as you are and I don’t need more. I wouldn’t expect you to change your mind over somethin’ like that anyway. It just wouldn’t be fair to ask.” His eyes glazed over at your words and he had to let go of the troubled breath he’d been holding. He brought your hand to his lips and kept them there as an unspoken thank you. 

After a moment or two he set your hand back on the tabletop, still grasped in his. 

“How about we find some shitty dive and let loose over there. This place is startin’ to feel a lil’ too stuffy for me.” Your light-hearted jab made the corner of his lips quirk up before he nodded,

“Yes, ma'am.” 

—

After a relaxing drive accompanied by the tunes of Willie Nelson in search of a dive bar that was sufficient enough, the ice from all the worries of earlier had melted as fast as they had formed. The establishment you ended up coming across was a more than welcome change of pace compared to that of the restaurant (as lovely as it was). It wasn’t big by any means but there was room to dance and plenty of open spots to sit around and drink. 

You looped your arm through his and leaned into his side as you made your way to settle down. There wasn’t enough time or clarity earlier to truly appreciate just how good he looked for the occasion but now you had all the time in the world to shamelessly ogle.

He’d donned a black dress shirt, forgoing a tie and leaving a few buttons undone in a way that had you feeling dizzy, as well as a nice fitting pair of jeans that had plenty of passersby’s eyes glued to his shapely form.

“The ladies of Louisiana might just beat me up for a chance with you. If your face ain’t motivation enough your ass surely will be.” You nudged him and he shook his head mirthfully. 

“One would say jealousy is unbecoming.”

“Who said anythin’ about jealousy? I’ve earned my stake in claimin’ you as eye candy fair and square. They can try all they want but they were just too slow to the draw.”

“With your pension for being scrappy, I’d say they wouldn’t have much of a chance to begin with.” 

“Gee, is that the only reason they don’t stand a chance?” You quirked a brow. You knew the answer but pestering him to fess up hardly ever got you far. 

“What d’ya wanna drink, Miss Envy.” He drawled, not one to fall into your traps so easily and you flicked him with narrowed eyes.

“Last time I checked my name don’t even come close to rhymin’ with envy so you can quit with that.” 

The shithead just smirked.

“I’ll take a jack and coke. Now run along.” You waved him away and he just shook his head. In his short absence you’d found a high top and decided to claim as your territory for the night. The music was clearer over this way and your heart jumped at the beginning notes of Fleetwood Mac’s Beautiful Child.

Upon his return, Rust had hardly been able to set the drinks down before you were grabbing at him to park yourselves out on the dancefloor. A few other couples were swaying in place so you figured it wouldn’t be all that awkward to steal a moment for yourselves.

It was strange, being able to be so open in your affections without the curious eyes of Marty or anyone else from the precinct to make judgments. You could just be yourselves. It was a breath of fresh air after all this time.

As the song gained momentum, you wrapped your arms around his neck, toying with the hairs at his nape while his strong ones made home around your waist to pull you in closer. A small spark of pride lit up your chest at him being able to be this comfortable with you.

As you rested your head along the expanse of his chest you felt the feather-light stamp of his kiss at your crown. The tenderness of the simple act almost had you turning into one hell of a mush puddle. You settled on burrowing deeper if that were any more possible as Stevie sang on. Fighting the effect he had on you was always going to be a losing battle. 

You wouldn’t trade this moment for a damned thing. 

—

It was nearing almost three in the morning by the time you arrived back home. Your mind had been pleasantly warmed by the drinks and all the dancing. Rust even seemed to have a newfound glow to him and it was triggering something innately carnal in you. 

Taking an opportunity from the pocket of silence, you scooted along the Ford’s bench seat to make a place for yourself along his lap. 

The relaxed daze displayed across his features was something you’d never had the pleasure of seeing before. It was nothing like the faraway trance he’d trap himself in with all the pills and whatnot in fruitless efforts of chasing undisturbed sleep. No, this was true content. 

“I had a good time.” You didn’t mean to sound so coy but it couldn’t be helped as your hands crept up to frame his fine face.

“That’s good. I’m glad.” He hummed as he took in every feature your beautiful face had to offer. It was like striking gold. Especially in this expansive wasteland of a state.

“When we get a chance we should do it again. S’nice to go out…feel normal…” Hair lying in his line of light distracted you as you moved it out of the way with a gentle sweep. The truck’s cab could probably burst with the steadily increasing tension so you did what any normal woman would do with such a man in front of them and kissed him with all you had. 

It started out syrupy and languid as if you had all the time in the world to be out macking in the car like a pair of careless teenagers. Your skin hummed like a live wire at his sudden grasp on the plush fat of your hips which served as the green light to go further. 

Your delicate fingers carded through his soft waves as the muscle of his tongue took dominance over the kiss. A meek whimper cracked within your throat as you tried to keep up with what little oxygen you had remaining. When Rust kissed, it was all-consuming. It was no act he took passively when it came to you which had been made crystal clear to you by now. With each pass of his wet-hot caress, you could feel everything he wanted to say to you without complication of expression through words. 

His mouth traveled across the apple of your cheek down the expanse of your neck, nipping and sucking with such lax reverence it had you arching as if you could fuse your ribs with his. Souls to be permanently intertwined.

With a starting grind of your hips that your body had no willpower to control you could feel him hardening with each intensifying roll. His choked moan had you remembering where you were and you’d be damned if your first actual night with him was in this old, damned truck right outside your house. 

“D’ya wanna take this inside?” You offered in a breathless huff, trying to catch your breath in vain. You’re sure that even in the dark of the truck’s cabin the heat of your face could set the whole space aglow. He nipped at your bottom lip and soothed it with another peck,

“I would.”

The sudden tangle of limbs clambering to make haste towards the beacon of your front door would’ve been downright hysterical had you any hubris. 

a/n: sorry to blue ball you lmao. I HOPE THIS WASN'T CRINGE AHHHHH. i'll probably come back and edit this later. feedback is always appreciated!

[dadsbongos]

Hi! I was wondering if u write fic requests on minor characters? Holm from Dungeon Meshi is my fave character and it's saddening that there are only a few contents about him T^T (tho its understandable since he's, well, a minor character)

If it's okay w you, I wanna request a Holm x reader scenario where Holm introduces reader to his party as his partner, and everyone is suprised because they didn't expect a laid-back guy like him to be in a serious relationship with someone!

aaaa sorry if it's a bit short and bland I just want some fluffy imagines with the cute lil gnome ;-;

as long as i feel confident enough in my characterization of a character i'm more than happy to tackle minor characters!

holm is a lil cutie patootie so i get it anon

586 words / warnings - not super proofread ~~~

“Congratulations, big guy!” Mickbell claps Holm on the back, earning a startled flinch from the gnome.

“Thank you…” Holm sighs, choosing to ignore the rough jostling, “So as I saying, I finally bought a house. I’d really appreciate it if you all could come to dinner to celebrate.”

Daya scratches the back of her neck, lips pursing thoughtfully, “Can I bring my fiance?”

“Sure! It’ll be a great time for you all to finally meet my spouse as well.”

Kabru is first to respond, a despondent, broken, “wh-what…?” croaking out.

“You’re married?” Rin mutters, covering her twitchy mouth with a gloved hand and brows furrowing. If none of them knew her, they might think she was disgusted by the information.

Holm nods, “I never found the right time to bring it up, but now is perfect!”

“Married…” Kabru’s horrified, he had zero idea Holm was a taken man -- and he’d been meeting with the gnome’s sister often! Did she have no clue either? They weren’t the closest siblings, after all…

“See you all for dinner then?” Holm bypasses the man’s internal struggle completely.

Rin, still with elation masked as indignation, nods rapidly, “We’ll be there!”

… 

“Married,” Kabru’s still pouting by the time he and Rin arrive at Holm’s new residence, “And I had no clue…”

“He hardly minds,” Rin rolls her eyes, a kinder lilt overtaking her tone, “Besides, nobody else knew.”

Sighing wistfully, Kabru doesn’t expect her to understand, only continuing to mope.

“You’re probably the only one who brought a gift, so at least take that as a win,” Rin grumbles, annoyed by his angst, and knocks on the door.

Holm is not who greets them at the door, but rather a total stranger who already knows their names, “You must be Rin and Kabru! Welcome in, I’m glad you both could make it!”

Kabru’s terror only increases at the realization you know him by description, and he cannot even guess as to what your name is.

“I should die…” he whispers.

“Huh?” your eyes widen.

“Kabru! Rin!” Holm saddles up beside you, a hand finding the base of your spine while the other outstretches to accept his leader’s cradled gift, “You didn’t have to bring anything!”

“I would’ve felt terrible,” Kabru shakes his head, smile soft yet disarming.

You take it that you must’ve just misheard the nice man, then…

“You know,” Mickbell calls from where he’s lounging in Kuro’s lap on your couch, “I never would’ve taken you as the type for a serious relationship.”

Daya has half a mind to whack the man, and she probably would have if her own fiance hadn’t barked a laugh in approval. Instead, she swats him in the chest with a quiet grumble to be nice.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” if it weren’t for his gentle face, one could take the question as offended.

“You’re too laid-back…” Kuro huffs agreement to Mickbell’s point, “I would’ve thought a married man is more intense.”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true,” Holm thankfully takes the jab with humor, “I’m seventy-six, not forty.”

“Imagine if you were?” you laugh.

“Nightmare, I’d be about you,” Holm chuckles.

“Oh, but it’d be flattering!”

“I was too immature.”

Mickbell scoffs, “Stupid long-living gnome and his stupid happy marriage.”

This time, Daya does smack the half-foot.

Meanwhile, Kabru is viciously examining yours and Holm’s body language and Rin is trying to psychically tell him to be normal.

“Your party’s very interesting…” you murmur to your husband.

“They’re just excited to be here.”

[munson-blurbs]

Thoughts on how eddie would react to the reader (his girlfriend) buying new underwear/lingerie and showing it off to him whike she changes into comfy clothes for the evening? Bc my boyfriend apparently didn't even look long enough to differentiate between two very clearly very different pairs and I need Eddie to have a better reaction🥲

Combining this with a req from @kellysimagines:

How about reader and Eddie dont wanna go out to celebrate their 3 year anniversary so they spend it at his trailer and the reader suprises Eddie only wearing thigh high leather boots and only that and Eddie is surprised and they have sex?

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), sub!Eddie, dom!Reader, c*m eating, thigh riding, praise

WC: 1.3k

A/N: The model in the picture is just there to provide a visual of the boots, and does not necessarily represent how Reader looks. Eddie would worship any of your bodies 💚 also, shoutout to @big-ope-vibes for convincing me to post this tonight in an attempt to defeat the Sunday scaries and to @pastel-pillows for helping me write sub!Eddie.

--

“Hey, babe, I’m home!” Eddie’s voice calls out. His nose is pink from the chill in the air. Indiana winters are brutal, and this one is no exception. “And I brought Chinese for dinner!”

“I’m in the bedroom,” you call back. “Got you a little surprise.”

Eddie’s brows pinch together in confusion. “I thought we said no gifts,” he whines, placing the bag of takeout on a snack table. It’s your third anniversary, and you’re trying to save up for a house. The trailer Eddie bought from his uncle Wayne after the older man moved to Florida was cozy, but it wasn’t where you wanted to grow old together.

You giggle mischievously, further piquing his interest. “Just come over here, handsome!” You hear him stomp through the living room; he isn’t angry, just walks with a heavy foot. It makes it nearly impossible for him to sneak up on you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder to say, “guess who?”

“Baby, you’re making me look bad–holy fuckin’ shit.” Eddie’s jaw basically hits the floor as he takes in the sight of you before him. You’re kneeling on the bed, wearing nothing but a sheer pink bra, a tiny matching g-string, and black thigh-high boots. “When did you–how did you–can I just touch you? Please?”

It seems bizarre, Eddie asking you for permission. He’s usually the dominant one, making you beg for an iota of pleasure. You’re taken aback for a moment before replying, “of course.”

His hands immediately fall to the swell of your breasts, thumbs easily finding your nipples through the gauzy material. “Don’t even know where to start,” he mumbles. He looks up at you with wide eyes. “Tell me what to do, Sweetheart. Please. I’ll do anything you say.” 

“Touch me, Eds. Need…need you to touch me.”

“Tell me where, baby,” he begs. “You’re in charge tonight. Want you to use me.”

The idea of bossing Eddie around is so foreign to you, and it takes you a beat before you can figure out exactly what you want. Your whole body buzzes with need. “Let me ride your thigh,” you murmur, “and while I do that, you’re gonna suck on my tits.”

Eddie nods, lifting you onto the bed and placing you on his lap. He starts to unhook your bra, but you shove his hands away.

“Did I say you could do that?” you snap, feeling more confident in your dominance.

Eddie gives you a confused look. “N-No,” he stammers, “but you said–”

“I said to suck on my tits. You can get me fully naked once you make me come. Got it?” When he just nods again, you tilt his chin upwards towards you. “Good boys use their words, Eddie.”

“S-Sorry.”

You sigh impatiently. “Don’t apologize; just tell me you understand.”

“Yes, ma’am. I understand. I won't get you naked until you come.” He swallows thickly, leaning in and bringing his lips to your clothed nipples. One hand rests on the middle of your back, but he stops before using the other one to cup your ass. “Can I please touch your ass?”

You kiss him, biting his lower lip as you pull back. “Since you asked so nicely.” He whimpers lightly, grabbing the soft flesh in his strong palms. For a brief moment, he looks like he wants to spank you–which he typically does–but quickly remembers his new role. His mouth returns to your tits, lapping and sucking on them hungrily. You wrap your arms over his shoulders, grinding down on his upper leg. ‘Keep your hands right here; that’s my good boy. Don’t let them move or I might not let you come.” 

“Won’t move,” he promises meekly, “take whatever you need. ‘M your fucktoy to use.”

You suck a harsh bruise into the nape of his neck, licking over it once you finish. “And what a sweet little fucktoy you are, hm? All mine, and ‘m gonna make sure everyone knows it.” You tug his shirt above his head and leave a trail of hickeys across his chest. Already started to feel pent up and overstimulated, Eddie instinctively begins bouncing his leg up and down. “Stay still,” you order him, ‘hold me and stay fucking still. Fucktoys don’t move.”

“Could I, um…could I kiss your neck?” Eddie asks, and you can’t help but note the slight whine in his tone. “Please, baby? ‘S my favorite spot…” He pouts as you shake your head.

“Tell you what,” you reason, still grinding your needy cunt on his thigh. You’re so wet that it’s leaving a damp patch on the denim, turning both of you on even more. “If you let me come, I’ll let you kiss my neck.” The friction is driving you wild, and you dig your fingernails into his bare back. “Fuck, Eddie. ‘S like your body was made to get me off.” 

You watch as his hand instinctively snakes down towards his erection, palming at it pathetically. A tiny whine escapes his lips as you pull it away and push him back onto the bed. “Trying to cheat the system?” you taunt him, rummaging through the dresser drawer until you find what you’re looking for. “Sit over there,” you motion towards the chair tucked under your vanity, “and put your hands behind you.” Eddie does as he’s told, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. The shiny silver handcuffs glint as you snap them around his wrists. “This is what happens when you can’t follow directions.”

“‘M sorry, ma’am,” he gulps, but you’ve already devised a new way to torture him. Slipping off your panties and unclasping your bra, you let both fall to the floor. You’re left only in the thigh-high boots. “Wan’ touch,” he mumbles, knowing that the effort is fruitless. Instead, he watches as you get down on your knees, pulling at his belt buckle and unfastening his button and fly. When you take his cock out of his boxers, he lets out an audible sigh of relief. He thinks I’m gonna blow him, you realize, a suspicion that’s only confirmed when he says, “Yes, baby, please.”

You tut disapprovingly as you make your way back to the drawer, purposely bending over a bit more than is necessary to give him a better view of your ass. Grinning, you slide a cockring down his shaft and press the tiny plastic power button. Eddie yelps out as the toy begins vibrating around the base of his length.

“Now,” you say, bringing yourself back to your position on his thigh, “I’m gonna get myself off, and you’re not gonna come until I tell you to.” He’s too overstimulated to respond, so you take his face in your hand and turn it so he’s looking into your eyes. “I said, good boys use their words.”

“Okay, yes, shit, I w-won’t come.”

You rub your clit against his naked thigh, faster until you feel your orgasm about to hit. His upper leg is covered in your slick, and you throw back your head in utter pleasure as you finish. “Such a good fucktoy, letting me come all over him. You’re so fucking good to me, Eddie.”

The praise combined with the vibrations and your own orgasm is too much for him to handle, and he groans out a loud string of curses. Thick, hot ropes of cum trickle down his cock, pooling in the thatch of curls at the base. “Shit, ‘m so sorry–I didn’t mean to–”

But you just kiss him, roughly and deeply, effectively shutting him up. “That was really hot,” you murmur into his ear, before dropping to your knees again. This time, you use your tongue to clean him up, swallowing every last drop. “And delicious.”

Eddie writhes against the chair, and you let him out of the restraints. “Baby, any time you wanna be in charge, just…just fuckin’ do it, holy shit.” He pauses before adding, “and wear those boots, too.”

“Okay,” you say, shooting him a salacious grin, “how does ten minutes sound?”

--

[hockeyboysimagines]

Hello dear! I see you've had a few requests about Tkachuk but he's one of my favorites so would it be too much of a bother if I asked too? hahah (you can switch to another player if you want)

I wonder what it would be like for him to commit even more to his girlfriend (not necessarily a marriage proposal, but a hint that this was in his future plans?) I think something like, he and his girlfriend met and started dating in Calgary, she's always gotten along with his family, friends and the whole complicated hockey universe. For silly reasons, she and Matt have been fighting a little more than usual, and it all gets worse when Matthew is traded to Florida. She is afraid of moving away from her home, family and friends, especially with the uncertain way things are going in their relationship. Oh and I don't know, maybe they take a break, Matthew moves to Florida and realizes that without her with him nothing feels right? Does she feel like Calgary has lost its color without Matt there? Does she go to one of his games by suprise? Or does he go all the way to Calgary to see her? Many possible endings hahaha

I hope this is what you had in mind!

Things had never been this bad.

All couples fight, sometimes over big stuff and sometimes over little stuff. But you and Matthew were fighting over both of those things and everything in between.

It seemed there was nothing you two weren’t fighting about these days. It felt silly thinking about it, and it felt even sillier to know that it really didn’t make any sense at all. Nothing had changed really, or at least not to your knowledge, although it had been a somewhat tough year in Calgary. Always the center of hockey drama, Matthew was becoming more well known than ever at this point, and your “strong” relationship had begun to crack under the pressure. In the beginning you decided you would hang tough, because the good parts always outweighed the bad. But now you were hanging on for dear life because the bad was drowning you. Once calm waters were now raging and choppy and more than once your head had dipped below the water line.

It was exhausting.

There wasn’t really one thing or one person that was to blame. It was both of you. You’d just forgotten how to to be with eachother.

In the beginning it was sunshine and rainbows. You loved the city, his family, the other Wags, all of it. You threw yourself into his life, being every bit the supportive girlfriend you should be. And it was great. But as time wore on, you’d lost your identity and become nothing more than Matthew Tkachuk’s girlfriend. And then the rumors.

You didn’t really believe them, but they still hurt. And he saw that. He saw how much you struggled with them, so he moved you into his apartment hoping that would make things better.

It didn’t.

If anything it was worse. Every minute he wasn’t home when he said he would be you sat wallowing in your own paranoia. He started posting more photos of you on his social media in order to quell your overthinking, which only opened the door for ugly remarks on your appearance and invasion into your privacy. To him it seemed like no matter what he did, it never made anything better, just worse.

But it had come to a head when the news of his trade to Florida broke.

You’d been blindsided, having no clue it was about to happen.

He however didn’t seem as surprised.

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted to surprise you.” He said nonchalantly as he unpacked a jersey the panthers had sent him “Your gonna love Florida. It’ll be a fresh start for us and I-“ he stopped when he caught your eye and frowned “What?”

“I’m not-I’m not moving to Florida.” You said quietly. The silence in the room was the loudest thing you’d ever heard. He was standing so still he could have been a statue, but the blood creeping up his neck and across his face gave him away.

“I don’t want to uproot my life that way, especially not with how things here have been going.”

“Babe things are going to get better.” He came around the counter and grabbed your hand “I know things have been hard but-“

“No you don’t.” A tear spilled over your lower eyelid and ran down your cheek “You have no idea how hard things have been for me.”

He stepped away from you “Oh don’t I? Do you think I would do everything I’ve been for the last year if I didn’t know?”

“I didn’t ask you to do any of that-“

“I did it because I love you and I wanted to help. Clearly that wasn’t enough. You know-“ he scoffed and turned away shaking his head “No matter what I do it’s ever good enough for you. You don’t want to come to Florida, fine don’t come.”

That had been 5 months ago. It had turned into a knock down, drag out screaming match that had ended in tears and a packed suitcase. You’d stayed with your sister for a week until he’d left for Florida and you hadn’t seen him since.

You’d been keeping tabs on him though, even finding yourself smiling a little as you watched the coverage on him in Florida. You missed him, realizing now that he was what made life in Calgary colorful and great. And that maybe there was more you could have done to fix things. Maybe he was right. You’d never really appreciate me the things he’d done to make things better for you and that maybe Florida would be kinder to you than Calgary was. And now you’d never get the chance to find out. You were walking through life without really living, completely numb to the outside until a knock at your door turned things around.

Matthew was standing on the other side of your door, bundled in cold weather gear. You were both surprised and not surprised. You knew he was in town for his “return to Calgary game”, but you didn’t think you’d see him. After all it had been 5 months of complete silence between the two of you. And while you’d hoped that maybe you would run into him or fate would bring you together, you also kind of didn’t. It would be hard to see him knowing what had gone down between you.

“I forgot how fucking cold it is up here.” He walked wordlessly past you and turned to find you still holding open the door.

Before you throw me out, just listen.” He reached past you and pushed the door shut before he sighed “I acted like an asshole before, and I should have talked to you sooner but it’s taken me 5 months to realize how dumb I was being. I have no idea how hard that was for you, and I won’t pretend to. The truth it, I never even tried. I just kept putting bandaids on our problems hoping it would make it better, but looking back I think if maybe I had tried to just see things differently and understand why we started to struggle it would be different. Every time something happened I saw you pulling away and I panicked because I didn’t want to lose you, so I took another step forward with you in hopes that would are it better. And I don’t regret any of that, but I wish I had tried to get a better understanding of your feelings and for that I’m sorry.”

You pursed your lips “It’s not your fault. I appreciate your apology and as much as I’d love to let you take the blame, some of it was my fault too. I wanted so badly to just be a part of your life that I gave up my own life for it. I loved being your girlfriend and everything that came with it, and when things got tough I never appreciated your support the way I should have. I never realized that you were only trying to help because I had my head so far up my own ass I couldn’t see straight. You did a lot to help me assimilate into your life and I never thanked you. I’m sorry too.”

He smiled a little, and then a lot “I know it’s crazy. But that offer about Florida is still there if you want it. I miss you and I want you there with me.”

You felt like you were melting as you walked forward wrapping your arms around his midsection “I missed you too. And if you want me to move to Florida with you, consider it done. I’d follow you to the North Pole Matthew Tkachuk.”

“The North Pole? Are you crazy. I barely made it here without freezing. How about we start with Miami? Sound good to you?” He smiled down at you.

“Anywhere with you does.”

[matcha-kathrin]

STRANGERS - Chapter 2

Summary: You can’t seem to get a night all to yourself, can you?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader. Again, until they share names ya’ll can picture whomever.

Word Count: 2.5k

Notes/Warnings: Surprise suprise no warnings. Light flirting, a bit of anxiety mixed with anticipation. I’m very happy so many of you enjoyed yesterday’s first part! I had this already ready to go so I couldn’t wait to post it, part three may take a while so stay tuned for the next update!

Please read Strangers - Chapter One before this one. Thank you.

~*~

STRANGERS – Chapter Two

As most sudden meetings go you soon forgot about the stranger you met one late night at the speakeasy bar of your street. Even though every time you’d pass by your now favorite bar you couldn’t help but feel a tang of sorrow in your chest, mixed with something else. Was it expectation? You sometimes would look through the windows of the place and wonder if he was in there, searching for him before you could realize what you were doing. You huffed at yourself in amusement when you caught yourself. What did you expect? You knew that if the two of you were ever to meet again the fantasy would be broken, the moment you shared no longer a special memory. So, in fear of losing such a memory you soon distracted yourself with other things.

But sometimes, when you sat on the small fire escape outside your window to enjoy a small smoke break, the chilly air and soft noise of the streets would lead your mind right back to him. His tired posture, his brown eyes that looked at you from underneath those sunglasses. And his low voice, a voice that was getting harder and harder to recall as time passed.

Such was life. A blissful torture made of a string of encounters, each one beautiful and unique in their own way. Each one leaving you always craving for more. But it never came. And you were fine with that, sometimes you had to get out of your head. Those moments were nice, but what were they really? They weren’t real, they were the moments poets would write about, moments where the world didn’t exist, and two individuals shared a common thought. Beautiful, torturous moments.

It was better this way; you would think to yourself. It’s what you thought every time it happened, even if it had happened only a handful of times. You remember the one time you had tried hard to find one of your encounters, and you did, but it was all wrong. The magic of it all had…left. Your encounter had changed, the person no longer the one you had shared such a fond moment with, and inevitably the memory was ruined. You’d be damned if you’d let it happen again.

Unfortunately, many things were ultimately out of your control, as you so tried to explain to the stranger you had met weeks ago. Most of the time things happen with no reason and no explanation, and even before you realize what situation you’re in it’s too late. It was, once again, inevitable.

So, as you sat comfortably at a small table with mismatched chairs of yet another bar, watching the band that was playing in what you figured was only the best seat in the whole place, you sighed. Content.

You didn’t necessarily make it a habit of going out alone, god forbid you tried asking the few friends you had actually made in this hectic city to join you, but you failed. People had lives, priorities. No one could fault them for that, much less you. What were you to do? Not go out? Just because you were alone didn’t mean you couldn’t keep your own company, and the air was right.

Your feet had led you to the bar you were sitting in almost by their own will. And there you were, smiling happily as you watched the band play, tapping your foot lightly on the ground to keep tempo. And soon enough the song came to an end, breaking the unity that was suspended in the bar as people clapped, and chatter overlapped almost immediately. It was the noisy breaks that interested you the most, how people laughed, how the band took a few minutes to sip their beers and drinks, sweat on their foreheads glistening under the colored spotlights. And there you sat, taking it all in.

“Are you waiting for someone?” A voice asked from above you, you turned your head to the chair in front of you, not looking up at the man whose hands were on it.

“Oh, no I’m not. You can take it.” You smiled, looking up politely. But you stopped, your smile instantly dropping. Being met with brown eyes you thought you’d never see again.

“I was actually thinking of joining you, may I?” He asked, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched your surprised expression.

“I-” you stuttered, the words not seeming to form on your lips “sure, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

There he was; the stranger. Dressed much similarly to when you two first met. Only this time instead of a plain loose shirt he had a buttoned one, still loose. You were starting to see a pattern in his choice of clothes. Loose, comfortable, always paired with jeans and his leather jacket, which he hung at the back of the chair before sitting in front of you. And of course, his ridiculous sunglasses. It was already quite dark in the bar; you wondered if he could even see anything at all. For a moment there was silence, and you just looked at each other. It seemed eternal, but it was more of a split second than anything. Then the music started back up again, and you were awoken from your trance.

“How did you even recognize me with those things?” You laughed finally, not being able to contain your amusement at how weird he looked with such dark shades. He frowned, feigning offense.

“I happen to be used to them, thank you. I can see you just fine.” You were already feeling a warm buzz when he sat down, but now that he was leaned in front of you, his elbows on the table, telling you how he could see you clearly you couldn’t help but feel the creeping nervousness make its way up your neck. Oh, how you wished you were slightly tipsier. In fact, you replied by just picking up your drink and taking a sip, trying to hide your face as you did.

“I’ve never seen you here before, did you get bored of our special place already?” He flirted, and it took every ounce of self-control in your body not to sputter in your glass. Why was he here? Why was he flirting?

“If I told you the places I frequent we wouldn’t be strangers now would we?” you lulled “Besides, what’s so wrong with this place?” You continued, looking around as if trying to find fault in the perfectly quaint bar you were sitting in. He didn’t follow your gaze, just kept his eyes on you. Much to your nervousness.

“Nothing, I just grew fond of the other one that’s all.”

“I can imagine.”

“Can you?”

“So, what’s in store for you tonight then, hmm?” You quickly changed the subject. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the way he was talking to you, his voice loud enough for you to hear him, but not as loud for others to hear. And his voice. It was better, better than what you remembered. And it terrified you.

He seemed…scruffier than the last time you saw him, his patchy beard unkept, his hair tousled messily and well…his sunglasses were dark sure but that didn’t seem to hide the bags under his eyes as he sighed.

“I was hoping for another break…you see I’ve had a lot going on in my mind since…” He hesitated, looking between you and the table between the two of you “since the last time we spoke. I guess I still have to get better at…getting unstuck.”

It seemed like you kept getting closer to figuring out where you had seen him. Was he a model? Some sort of social sensation? He definitely had the looks for it, but for some reason each time you got closer to figuring out where you had seen him your mind just froze and you lost it. Maybe it was the drink you kept sipping or the warm air between you. Or maybe it was the way he kept looking at you. A way strangers would never look at one another. You snapped yourself back to reality, you didn’t know this man, didn’t know his name. You couldn’t deny the blatant chemistry between you but again…he was a stranger. And he was to remain as such.

“Don’t you think maybe you’re expecting too much of yourself?” You quietly asked as he had waited for your answer. He looked up at you again, as if in a daze, as if you could have said anything in the world and he would still be in awe.

“We have certain expectations of ourselves,” you continued, a small smile forming as you saw his stupor “we have to learn when to say no. You keep talking about being stuck- and tired, but I wonder if you’re not just doing too much? Maybe you’re mixing others expectations of you with your own, maybe you just don’t know how to put yourself first for once.”

He was lost in you, listening to your every word as if hungry, as if deprived of the sound of your voice. Mistaking it for distraction you placed your hand on his gently, making him freeze beneath you. Until he eased completely under your touch. “You have to take time for yourself, it’s okay to say no. It’s okay to disappoint others if it means you get to be happy.” You don’t know if the words you were speaking were for him or more for yourself, but his skin was feverishly hot under your fingertips, it was the best feeling in the world. His warm, tan skin, all to yourself.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he so often did. You wondered if it meant he was nervous. “You…” he started, looking at you from underneath his glasses as he did the first night you met, and you could feel your heart in your throat “How do you know what to say even though I gave you nothing to go on?”

“Who knows,” you lifted your hand from his, seeing a small flash of disappointment in him as you did “maybe we’re not so different.”

“Oh, I believe we are.” His tone was playful, but you were anything but amused, his eyes…were really getting to you.

“Stop…looking at me like that.” The words came out of you before you could stop yourself. For a split second his brows furrowed, probably wondering if he had done something wrong, but he wasn’t blind, he saw how your cheeks were flushed. Maybe he was just kidding himself, maybe it was the heat of the stuffy bar or the alcohol in your drink.

Or maybe he was the one who had that effect on you.

“Looking at you like what?” He teased, but there was no smirk, no smile. The stranger was dead serious.

“Like…like that. It makes me- it makes me nervous.” You swallowed, you had been so calm, so confident. And suddenly you were a nervous wreck. He liked that he had that effect on you. Shutting it off you straightened your back, picking up your drink and swirling a few times before speaking. “Or don’t, I’ll get used to it either way.”

“Not so easily defeated, are you?”

“You thought that was enough to take me down?”

“I don’t know, did you think placing your hand on mine would be enough?”

You shut up at that. Narrowing your eyes at him in amusement. He gave a small laugh, feeling like he finally cornered you.

“That’s not fair, I wasn’t trying.” You quipped, sipping your drink. He hesitated, you weren’t trying? What were you like when you were trying? This was already more than enough for him, but he would never let you know.

“I was serious, about taking time for yourself. I don’t know what you do or why it’s got you so hung up, but I know a people pleaser when I see one.” You added, trying to get the sentiment through, of course you knew what people pleasers were like, you had been one for a while. It was terrible. Trying to appease everyone, trying to make everyone happy even if it meant you were miserable.

His smile fell, it seemed like you hit dead center. Seeing his expression drop made your chest tighten slightly. “But then again…I don’t know you. You’re the only person who knows what’s best for you. Don’t let some girl you met twice tell you how to live your life.” You laughed it off, trying to ease a bit of the tension that had formed. You wanted him to still think he could have his breaks with you, you wanted it to be light and fun. As it was in your first meeting.

Fuck. You knew it was going to be ruined. You should just get up, say your goodbyes and avoid him if you ever saw him on the street-

“You know me better than the majority of the people in my life.”

“Don’t lie.”

“Okay fine you don’t know me. But you…have a way of- listening to me for a few minutes and understanding me without me having to explain anything.”

“As I said,” you got up, drowning the last of the drink before putting your coat on “I don’t think we’re all that different. I know you all too well, because I’m just like you.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Of course I am, the more we talk the more we’ll know remember?” There you went again, hiding yourself behind a game you so desperately wanted to play out. A game he had no say in, but you wouldn’t let him. You didn’t know what scared you so much. He…had issues. That much you could tell. What scared you was the fact that even though you could see him coming from a mile away, you were still drawn to him. Dangerously so. The whole conversation was proof of it. You said nothing and everything, all he had to do was look at you with that look you couldn’t quite decipher, and you were sent into factory settings.

It was too risky.

“Maybe next time we’ll have a chance to share a smoke break again.” You whispered to him, placing your hand on his shoulder for a moment before leaving the bar. Not daring to look back.

He watched you leave, and he couldn’t do anything about it. Again.

You had such a finality when you spoke. As if once you decided to leave there was nothing that could sway you. He thought maybe this time he could keep you for longer, but he ultimately failed.

Ultimately, inevitably, failed.

“I’m nothing like you.” He whispered, taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose after seeing you disappear through the windows of the bar.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

What about 10. "Cat got your tongue?" with the fae Janus au?

Faeries in a Dance

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Roman's going out to a party, leaving Janus and Virgil alone to spend some time together. Maybe it takes Janus by suprise that Virgil wants to take part in some more magical shenanigans.

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| Ao3 | Previous Part |

This fic isn't necessarily a continuation, but it takes place in the universe of Faeries In The Forest (and other fics linked from there)

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Warnings: Dissociation (or possibly hypnotisation? Though it's framed positively)

Pairings: Anxceit, Anaroceit

Word Count: 1784

Notes:

Helloooo

This was based on this prompt/ask I got from an ask game SO long ago, like, over a year ago fdkffkds I can't believe I only just finished it lmao - so sorry this took so long jfdkslfjds

----

"Cat got your tongue, my darling?" Roman hummed, raising an eyebrow at Deceit as he stepped out of his bedroom wearing the most - Virgil could only describe it as obnoxious, though Roman looked lovely in it - dress. 

Deceit was staring shamelessly at the way the dress split at Roman's thigh, the glittered red fabric elegantly pooling at his feet - where he was wearing sparkly red platform heels. 

"Roman-" Virgil started, about to protest the outfit he had chosen before a gloved finger was pressed to his lips. 

“You look stunning my dear,” Deceit said, “Don’t let V tell you otherwise.”

“I wasn’t gonna-”

“Shhh” Deceit said.

“I was-” Virgil was cut off with a kiss from Deceit.

“No talking for you, sweetheart, we’re admiring our lovely partner right now.”

Virgil huffed and crossed his arms, once Deceit had let him go he said, “You do look great, Roman.”

“Why thank you! Both of you! I was worried it’s a little much for the event, what do you two think?” Roman asked, stepping forward towards them.

“It’s a party to celebrate the success of your musical, is it not?” Deceit asked, Roman nodded, “Then surely a dramatic outfit is adequate.”

“Wonderful! You get it,” Roman laughed, Virgil huffed.

“It's a casual get together between tha cast,” He said, “Not the oscars.”

Roman burst out laughing, “I see your point, V, but consider: I'll be the most beautiful one there! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“More like embarrassing,” Virgil mumbled.

“You won’t even be there, darling,” Deceit told him, “If our Prince wants to wear such a dazzling outfit to his party I don’t see why he shouldn’t.”

“Awee you think I’m dazzling?” Roman tried to tease, though he was bright red with blush. 

“Of course I do,” Deceit said, stepping closer. Roman nearly matched his height with those heels. Slipping a finger under Roman’s chin, Deceit tilted his head up so they were nose to nose, “Although you are always beautiful, I can’t say you didn’t render me speechless, my dear.”

“Oh- oh I- um- thank you!” Roman stammered, his face as red as his dress. Deceit chuckled and pressed a kiss to Roman’s lips. Virgil laughed as Roman chased Deceit’s lips when he pulled away.

“Careful darling, I don’t want to smudge your lovely makeup.” Deceit said, though Virgil could already see that his lips were stained red from Roman’s lipstick. 

“And besides, I want a kiss too,” Virgil huffed, stepping forward, “If you’re gonna dress like that you can’t expect us not to.”

“Of course not,” Roman laughed, swooping down to press a kiss to Virgil’s lips too, hand tangling in his hair even as he pulled away, eyes sparkling with a smile. Now his lipstick really was smudged, though it somehow looked even better now that it was more diluted.

“You planned this,” Deceit said, chuckling as he reached for Roman’s hands, “You knew we’d kiss you so you put on more lipstick.”

Roman chuckled, “You caught me! I just know you both so well my darlings.”

Shaking his head, Virgil gently pushed Roman towards the door, “Get out, you flirt, or you’ll be late for your party.”

“Alright alright,” Roman laughed, kissing Virgil on the cheek and then reaching over to do the same to Deceit, “I’m going!”

“Keep your phone on!” Virgil told him sternly, always one for keeping them safe. 

“Go on, enjoy your night my dear.” Deceit said, waving a hand as Roman turned back in the doorway to wave at them. Moments later he was shutting the door behind him and rushing out of their apartment to head to his party. Virgil turned to look at his remaining boyfriend.

“Why didn’t you want to go with him?” Virgil asked, tilting his head. They had both been invited, Virgil knew why he didn’t want to go, but he thought Deceit would be quite in place at a party. 

Deceit hummed, taking his hand and leading him over to the sofa, where he was pulled gracefully into the faerie’s lap, “I’m not sure dancing with mortals in a crowded space would go down so well,” He said softly. Virgil leant against his chest, letting out a hum. He’d almost forgotten how dangerous fae powers could be. 

“Right,” He says softly. 

“Why didn’t you want to go?” Deceit asked, running a hand through Virgil’s hair. 

“I’m a socially awkward, anxious freak?” Virgil says plainly, as though talking about the weather, making Deceit frowned.

“You are not a freak,” he says, kissing Virgil’s forehead, “You are anxious and socially awkward, though, I cannot deny those.”

Virgil chuckles, laying his head on Deceit’s shoulder, “Roman loves all these parties and stuff, I just… don’t, I’d rather be here.”

“I understand,” Deceit says softly, “And I would rather not enchant a whole room of mortals to dance, as freeing as it would be for me.”

At that, Virgil paused. Deceit had always been upfront about not wanting to enchant or hurt people. He was summer, he had the power to burn along with the fun-seeking spirit of a seelie. Virgil hadn’t quite considered how repressing the natural instinct to take and enchant and bewitch mortals might affect him.

An idea popped into his head, then. A stupid idea that he dismissed at first, content to cuddle with his faerie, though it wormed its way back into his consciousness and eventually he gave into it, standing up and offering Deceit a hand as well. He took it with a curious tilt of his head. 

“Will you help me move the couch?” Virgil asked, gesturing towards the wall. They’d need a bit of space.

“Yes…?” Deceit said, clear confusion on his face even as he did as Virgil asked. 

“Okay, cool, uh - I’m just gonna…” he mumbled as he connected his phone to the bluetooth speaker they kept next to the TV. 

“What are you up to, little spider?” Deceit asked, frowning as Virgil scrolled through his phone. 

“We need music to dance to,” Virgil said simply, setting down his phone and turning to look at Deceit, who was suddenly staring wide eyed, “What?”

“You… want to dance with me?” Deceit asked, looking surprisingly tentative.

“You said dancing would be freeing,” Virgil said, putting on some random song from his playlist and holding out his hands, “So dance with me.”

“But you… you know what it will do to you, don’t you?” Deceit asked, already reaching for his hands. 

“I trust you,” Virgil said, taking Janus’ hand and spinning into his chest, “Though I’ll warn you I’m not really a good dancer.”

“You want me to enchant you?” Deceit asked, wrapping one arm around Virgil’s waist, Virgil smiled up at him.

“Yeah, I think so,” Virgil said - he wasn’t having doubts exactly but Deceit’s worry made him worry more too.

“Would you like me to tell you how you’ll feel first?” Deceit asked, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips - he tasted so sweet, even more so than normal, and his touch made Virgil’s lips tingle. 

“I think that would be reassuring,” Virgil nodded - then they would both know what they were agreeing to. 

“You’ll feel hazy,” Janus said, “Warm, relaxed - I believe you’ll feel like you’re floating, light as air - you’ll feel happy, maybe even freed - and you won't want it to end.”

“It will end, though, right? I won’t be stuck?” Virgil asked, he didn’t want to be stuck like that, though it did sound… almost nice.

“Of course not,” Deceit said, “As soon as we stop you’ll start coming down from it, I’ll take care of you.”

“And we won't dance for too long, will we?” He asked, not giving in to the way Deceit had already started swaying with him to the music.

“No,” Deceit said softly, “We won't dance for more than an hour.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, turning around to face Janus properly with a smile on his face, “I trust you.”

“I’ve never felt so honoured to have someone’s trust,” Janus said softly, lowering a hand to his shoulder and the other to his waist so that he could begin to spin him around in a slow dance. The song Virgil had chosen might not be the best for it, but it was better than nothing for him. Janus pressed another kiss to his lips and Virgil let the almost sickly sweet taste wash over him. He was giving Janus his trust entirely, he would be completely at his mercy if he let go and allowed himself to be taken by the dace, but… for some reason he wanted to. 

Slowly he felt his mind slip away. He felt that floaty feeling Janus had mentioned overtake him and he felt elated. There was no worry, no anxiety, just the music and the way they were moving, the soft gentle touch of Janus’ hands and the gentle turning and swaying he was being guided into. Virgil wasn’t a dancer, but then he’d never danced like this before. 

Dazed in the best way, happy and giggling, letting out a laugh he never would’ve under different circumstances. He heard Janus laugh too, he could almost feel him drinking up the energy in the room - the energy Virgil was relishing in. 

Before he knew it though the feeling was beginning to fade away. He felt strong arms lift him and ever so gently set him down, he felt a comforting presence next to him, a hand in his hair, kisses pressed to his face. Virgil snuggled up to the warmth and sure enough he fell asleep in minutes. 

—

“Good evening, sunshine,” Deceit said softly when Virgil finally woke. It was dark, Virgil’s head still felt a little funny - just a little bit of fog that hadn’t cleared, “How do you feel, my dear?”

“What time’s it?” Virgil asked, slurring his words a little. 

Deceit chuckled, helping him to sit up, “Almost eleven, you slept for a few hours.”

“Bah,” Virgil grumbles.

“You probably needed it sweetheart,” Deceit said, kissing his forehead, “Did you have fun?”

It took a moment for him to remember what Deceit was talking about - but soon enough he remembered the dance, the feelings, the way he’d felt so safe and warm… “Yeah, I did - we should do it again sometime… it was really relaxing…”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself,” Janus hummed, pressing little kisses all over his face, Virgil squeaked and batted him away, “Really though, I’m glad you felt relaxed enough to sleep, my dear.”

“Me too,” Virgil said with a nod, before grinning a little, “Princey’s gonna be so jealous he missed out.”

"Well that just gives us an excuse to do it again, doesn't it?" 

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmealdaydreams @littlerat2 @goldnskyart (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

[paladinwife]

🛌🤪❤️ whoever you'd like! suprise me :)

Not those emojis-

Answering these all for HSR Carmen!

🛌: What tropes show up in fics involving your ship?

So here’s something interesting I’ve noticed about ships involving HSR Carmen - she tends to either end up in a dichotomy (like with Kafka, where they are the Trailblaze and the Finality respectively), or in a ship with someone who deeply resembles her in some way (like with Himeko). Acheron is an interesting example where both are kind of applicable, as both are kind of wandering around the galaxy with no hard ties because of their backgrounds, but also they have what’s probably best described as a sun and moon dynamic. Also, this one’s a platonic example, but I have to include Aventurine for both being a narrative foil to Carmen, but also one that both resembles her in some ways design-wise and does have some poignant similarities to her.

🤪: What is your trait that fanon would exaggerate?

My honest guess is it would be her diva and hater tendencies. They’re definitely there, particularly when she’s interacting with Aventurine and he’s feeding into them, but she’s not completely unreasonable. I do think she’d get the “hater and a gatekeeper but God’s favorite princess” treatment, which is funny and I definitely make that joke about her, but it can be exhausting when that’s all they boil her character down to. Also, because most of the targets of her Hater Behavior happen to be men, I absolutely dread to think that there would be a fringe group of the fandom that would construe it as man-hating — I mean, come on, she’s bisexual!

❤️: How popular is you x your f/o? Are you a rarepair?

We discussed this in vc but I’m putting it here for the world to see! I think her most popular ship for sure would be her and Acheron, because they’d get to interact a lot in the Penacony arc and the chemistry would be pretty natural. Himeko/Carmen and Kafka/Carmen would follow right after, because Himeko also gets some good interactions with her during Penacony, and as I’m planning it now, Kafka is an important figure in her character quest. Everything beyond that is probably less common, but maybe not necessarily rare.

[chestersbraincell]

Just had the most terrifying nightmare yet, one of those stereotypical ones that actually incorporate both real life events twisted into optimum trauma factor scare and topped off with a dusting of sugar(your traditional spooky stuff)

I will try to retell it, but first

TW: bodies, trauma, school trauma, second hand embarrassment, sleep paralysis, nightmares, night terrors(?), being chased, body horror, physical abuse, bullying, fear of the dark, fear of heights, hyperventilation, hyperventilating, false awakening, being stared at, being watched

Okay, so first thing I remember is that, for some reason, in this dream-universe it was required of all school graduates to complete a day of chaperoning the youngest(a year 7, I live in Britain). So I’m chaperoning this kid, I think his name was Liam? Something with an L I think. Looks, kinda familiar? I’m not sure now. I couldn’t recreate his face now if you asked me to imagine it clearly but in it was still much clearer than most dream characters.

Well anyway, we check in with the head of the school(who, again, looked familiar but I don’t think I actually knew her irl. Perhaps she was a mashup of all the female teachers I’ve known that had long-ish white blonde hair. Well anyway, she sets us off for the day. I find myself actually somewhat compassionate for the kid, which I guess was expected since, again, in the „dream universe” the reason this was required was to build compassion and kindness or something.

So there were two moments when my school trauma(bullying), particularly showed up. Once, just, seeing that familiar hallway. With the Nurses office and all(personal detail, won’t make sense but wanted to add it for myself). Then, later, there was a more elaborate moment. So it’s breaktime, and this kid meets up with his chubbier, glasses friend(/not negative just the two descriptors I particularly remember. He was also blonde like Liam but his hair was slightly more bowl-cut shaped).

Said friend has a bottle(for some reason, one shaped like those gas tanks? It was huge) of alcohol. Naturally, I caution them but I’m too timid to overstep my boundaries. Doesn’t matter though, since lessons start up again and. The crowd comes(another trauma, my school had major overcrowding to the point that it became dangerous oftentimes when breaks would end especially). I get lost in the sea of people, and start completely panicking/crying/hyperventilating when I feel some guy just, grab my hair and yank it continuously(didn’t happen specifically back then, but I had many other experiences of being physically abused in those crowds, shoving, shoving against walls/door-frames, kicking, etc).

It cuts to later when I’m apologising for just, blanking out like that but the aforementioned blonde haired lady is forgiving. Later, it is lunchtime and I loose the kid again, I assume among the masses of people though this time I don’t think it was any more scary than just being a crowd(don’t think any more physical abuse occurred). So I’m looking for him everywhere and eventually remembered that some kids would gather in classrooms to eat(this didn’t actually happen, again, dream-universe thing), and check until I find him and sit down.

They are, unsurprisingly drinking alcohol. At some point I HAD reported that so I wondered how they weren’t caught. Somehow, H(again, personal detail, stands for a name I OBVIOUSLY dont want to disclose) was another chaperone for some other kid there at the time, which is suprising how much of a general red flag he is as a person. But I try to put up face and just, make it to the end of the day. But, eventually we start watching cringey tik toks to make fun of them, and an old one of mine comes up(though I’ve had cringey tik tok accounts that I am mortified by, this one wasn’t an actual one I’ve had, again dream-universe thing. Not necessarily a trauma but it is a fear of mine that someone could find the ones that DO exist so another point for realism horror ig). Obviously I’m so distracted by this that we proceed to be 10 MINUTES late, and that’s apparently my last strike.

Now here is where I think my brain ran out of material to torture me with, because things get more, if not in an extremely bizarre way, „traditionally” nightmarish. As I take the walk of shame to the library, slowly transforming into a librarian, the kids’s, all the kids’s eyes have become nothing but bright red circles in a fashion that would almost the cartoonishly ridiculous would it not have had the immersiveness of the dream. All staring. And they’re droning, all in unison, something I don’t remember. I’m dream universe, I was aware of this being the consequences of failing my mission, being sentenced to working as the librarian at that school forever.

Later cuts to me in the car with my mom, talking about my „demotion”, ig. I mention the fact that the blonde haired teacher lady ACCUSED me of drinking the alcohol myself and that being the reason for my lateness, since I was much too embarrassed to admit to what actually happened. I, of course fervently denied the allegation as it was obviously something I’d never do. To which she patronisingly continued to not believe me, „reassuring” that it was „understandable” for someone my age. A statement, much to my disappointment and disbelief, my mother echoed. She would not believe me either. The whole thing had very „fallen Angel” vibes so I guess it had that going for it in the metaphorical department

Then, for some reason, we were walking through and out of an apartment complex, one of many in a line, though this one had a straight line on path towards a bridge…over a completely dark abyss. A huge one, too. Apparently, this was a normal occurrence of getting home every day(one could make out the end of the bridge, and it didn’t look particularly damaged, but it sure as hell wasn’t sturdy(it was one of those hanging rope ones). We start going through, and I just hear this bellowing howl from within the abyss. We begin to stagger back, obviously, but out of the corner of my eye, towards the edge of the abyss, on a sort of shore, I notice a…mass? No, a body. It’s really pale, white, like completely with a greyish hue, and curled up in such a way I can’t make out a head, but I wouldn’t be suprised if it was bald.

I am horrified, instinctually so. Like I just, KNOW that it will begin to chase us and something HORRIBLE will happen if it should get to us. As I begin to audibly go into hysterics(ie „oh god, oh god, what the fuck, oh god” etc) it begins to move, jerking in in-human ways, as I sprint for it. At first, my mom has the idea to try to duck behind and hide behind some of the apartment complex’s walls, (they were irregular, not lined up smoothly, with a section pertruding forward in the middle of each one) but I just knew it wouldn’t work. In hindsight, I thought my screaming had already set off it’s instincts and it was after us anyway. I eventually let go of my mom’s hand, and keep running. At this point, I was already like, half-dreaming, half-imagining it, as I was already gradually waking up so I kinda just had a „man, fuck this” moment and fully pulled myself out of the dream.

Had the sneaking feeling it COULD turn out to still be right behind me towering over my bed(I was turned towards the wall) l, so I did many a reality checks, a double-reality checks to make sure I was fully awake and wasn’t in for another round via false-awakening. I wasn’t.

Dude, when I tell you it was fucked up. One of those nightmares you wake up hyperventilating from. Eurghhh

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Harry Duke of Sussexs uncle Charles (Dianas younger brother) is divorcing his THIRD wife - yet of course the genetic pain comes from the Windsors side. Sure by u/Lensgoggler

Harry, Duke of Sussex’s uncle Charles (Diana’s younger brother) is divorcing his THIRD wife - yet of course the ‘genetic pain’ comes from the Windsor’s side. Sure… So, I saw this in the newspapers (not going to link - the fact it’s his third divorce speaks for itself) and it got me thinking how naive or manipulative the Duke and Duchess of Sussex are, blabbing about genetic pain and how it’s all KCIII’s fault (not Diana’s, not the late Queen’s and Prince Philip’s fault - ONLY The King’s). And how about both Diana and her brother Charles, not having witnessed a healthy romantic relationship probably were and are both unable to pull a good partnership off themselves. Remember, Charles didn’t attend his daughter’s wedding? A bit if a red flag, I thought. I have googled the Spencer dynamic a bit and it’s pretty horrifying for everyone involved, over several generations…I’m not blaming anyone. I have a deeply flawed dad myself as my gran is a narc and my dad still acts like a teenager - but it’s his choice, he claims he’s fine. It’s tragic - a marriage ending is tragic. What suprises me is Harry idealising Diana and not being able to learn from the lessons of both Diana and all the other Spencers’ lives. As I gather, William went out of her way to understand Diana as a human, but Harry didn’t and it shows. Meghan probably has no interest in healing any problem areas either. So… not suprised they are where they are. Generational trauma is not a life sentence but only if you look at it closely, come to terms with and learn from it. The Sussexes are barking under the wrong three, so to say.I hope Harry’s uncle Charles stops and takes a breather and a moment to think before rushing into another marriage. post link: https://ift.tt/BIZj09C author: Lensgoggler submitted: June 11, 2024 at 02:27PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[too-many-rooks]

Writing procrastination game!

Thanks @lastlymatt for tagging me, I got rambly so I’ll put this under a ‘read more’

Tagging @pigandpepper @known-concepts @countessrivers

1.) what’s the name of one of your wips?

My doc names are usually very boring 95% of the time I finish a fic and think it’s ready to post and realise I need a title. How about ‘Yassen Bedroom Visit’?

2.) Describe a Wip in the format of __+__=__

SCORPIA heir Alex + totally normal kidnapping and drugging in the middle of the night get to safety orienteering exercises = childhood trauma

3.) What tags/warnings will one of your Wips need if you share it?

Forced child seperation?

4.) alternative title to a wip?

I don’t really have alternate titles! Titles tend to come pretty late in the process!

5.) which wip are you most likely to update/finish next?

Probably one of my s3 aus I’ve got brewing, there’s a longer thing I posted the first chapter of today but I also have some one shots, one where Yassen gets wounded fighting off Alex’s enemies and Alex basically has to hold him down to say he cares about him, and another where Yassen comes to chat to him in the middle of the night (while Alex is sleeping) and they catch up.

6.) what is one of your wip’s document title, not what it’s name is but what you have it saved as?

Again, extremely boring. Some examples - ‘Tom/House introduction’, ‘stables’, ‘the ball’, ‘heir apparent 1-9’, ‘hunting’ ‘hostage’ ‘orienteering.’

On reflection, these are very badly organised. But, hey Ho.

7.) post any sentence from your WIP?

Okay this took me forever to decide bc I want to share like, all of my sentences, but here’s a sentence from my SCORPIA heir Alex thing where Yassen just tries to take a day off, but is interrupted by Alex sneaking out of school/the country and mountain his school is on

‘Rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, he blocked out the little blonde headache sat before him, and sighed, already imagining the state of his email inbox when he got back to his laptop, which he’d sworn would stay folded in its case for the rest of the day.

“And how long ago was this? When should I start expecting panicked calls from your father?”‘

8.) a scrapped idea from your WIP?

Not necessarily a scrapped idea but evidently one I forgot about and rediscovered as I was flicking through google docs - originally a pre-season 3 idea (but could work post s3) where Yassen retires, and decides it’s time for Alex to retire too, even if he doesn’t want to. Very “congratulations you are being adopted! Do not resist.” Meme with Yassen that I’ve seen on here, the bit I’d written was him contemplating the least traumatising way to kidnap him, to make sure they’re a happy family unit post-kidnapping

9.) what’s a story you would love to write but have yet to start?

Alex sees dead people AU - Ian knows, when he dies his ghost becomes bound to Alex, and helps take care of him/watch over him in the field, Alex bumps into Yassen at Point Blanc and immediately recognises the ghost bound to him as his father, especially as he begs the assassin to stop pretending like he can’t hear him for once and let him see his son, to protect him.

10.) how many WIPs are you actively working on?

Four - regency fic, darker Alex s3 au, two other s3 aus I mentioned earlier. Suprised myself by how much of this longer ‘SCORPIA heir’ Alex thing that I’d put off for a while I’ve actually written. That’s one that I really want to finish before I start posting bc I’m bad at doing work without an immediate emotional reward/it’s a longer than anything I’ve written before and I don’t want to give up on it when it’s half published. I had been delaying it till after s3 but maybe time to get to work (will try and finish regency fic first)

11.) is there a scene your struggling to write now?

Oh I mean so many but the most immediate stumbling block is with the regency fic, chapter after this one they go to a ball and that’s almost basically written and so is a lot of the next two chapters but there’s things I need to thread into this chapter that just don’t want to be threaded - I need Alex to start being a bit more suspicious of Yassen, and remember that whole thing about his uncle being murdered now he’s a bit passed the initial princess diaries revelation moment.

I was thinking like Alex waiting up for him on Christmas Eve or something and falls asleep then is woken by Yassen sneaking back in and Alex noticed he’s got blood on his clothes or something and Yassen just shrugs him off and reacts more strictly/authoritatively than he has before. But the scene is a bit sludgy I my mind atm.

12.) Not a question but a second kudos!

[ronwestbreeze]

tbh neytiri the least on my nerves but both tustey and jake are assholes (granted they act like that from trauma) but i’m suprised(or maybe not, reeds is in a lot of grief now) that reeeds didn’t use that marriage proposal as a bargain chip to grant herself freedom and be allowed to tame an ikran(which only the onomatopoeia can grant someone) in exchange of giving tustey an heir(or spare? if netayam his heir?) for him to raise with neytiri and jake. i’m not sure maybe that would be my choice since i have a tendency to run away from the people that cause me pain.

oooh what an interesting take! reeds probably still wouldn’t accept the proposal mostly because no one’s necessarily forcing her to be there so i don’t see her using the proposal as a bargain for that when she could simply steal a truck or a Samson ship to escape anyway

but i like your take too! if she were truly being held captive there then i could possibly see her doing that out of desperate or a last last resort.

[nickeverdeen]

hello! could i please request a ship from the hunger games, avatar the last airbender and the umbrella academy? i’m ok with being shipped w any of the adult characters in any of the fandoms also. my name is noelle & i’m a bisexual cis female (she/her pronouns). my fav romance tropes are arranged marriage & forbidden romance, and (i think) my love language is physical touch. i’m also an entp & gryffindor! i LOVE to travel & i value experiences over possessions. my family is very important to me and i also really want to have children in the future but not necessarily get married. i’m a people person but i enjoy having some quiet time to myself. i like think i’m pretty nice, but do not cross me 👀 also, my dream job is either a comedian, working in film or something to do with traveling <3 i’m also considered “the funny one” & the ‘wild child.’ i also struggle/have struggled with anxiety, depression, substance abuse & eating disorders. i love to read books and write (mostly scripts & poetry.) i love my job as a barista and i also enjoy going on spontaneous adventures! i love camping, swimming and anything to do with nature. i have a navel piercing, a sagittarius (my zodiac sign!) arrow tattoo below my neck and a fig tattoo on the back of my arm. my style is very 70s mixed with early 2000s. i thrift basically everything i own. i’m 5’3 & have dark blonde hair with blue eyes, i’m pretty chubby but i have a great ass lol. thank you so so much!! :)

Your Hunger Games match is…

Peeta Mellark

After the games he needs physical touch

His love language is physical touch and time quality

Peeta would also like to have children one day

He also prefers to have some time for himself

Likes your jokes and would try to beat you with his

Would fail

Peeta knows how to handle mental/emotional problems ‘cause he expirienced some of them himself

Takes you outside on a date 100%

He is a very observant person so he’d notice your tattoos

Asks if they have any meanings or you just took them because you liked them

Would need you to remind him what’s real and what’s not, sometimes

Your Avatar The Last Airbender match is…

Zuko

Zuko tried not to fall for you considering that being with you - someone who ain’t a firebender - would disappoint others

But he does fall for your personality and body

He ain’t much of a touchy type at first, but would “warm up” after few weeks

Zuko would to your suprise take you to travel on his boat

He ain’t really sure if he wants kids in the future

Likes your attitude

Doesn’t really get your jokes at first, but after a while he would start to understand

Knows exactly how to help you if you’d ever feel down or have your mental problems back

I mean he went through some of them himself

Jokes about your hight

Finds your clothing style funny and real good at the same time

You’re his comfort person and he’s very protective of you

Your Umbrella Academy match is…

Allison Hargreeves

Take in vain her childhood making her touch-starved

So she is seriously into physical touch

Would like to have children one day too

I mean look at her when she had Clarke

(or whatever her name was)

Seriously likes your jokes and puns

Allison has a truma and some other mental issues

So

She knows how to help you if you’re ever back at it again

Feeling upset in general? Let’s go out or whatever you wanna do

Cuddles 100%

Allison likes your clothing style a lot and would ask for your tips with hers sometimes

[chemnections]

I don’t think Gerard likes to quit and is encouraged to do so by his wife. He clearly has been dealing with mental health issues for almost all of his life and is really insecure and has been open about it. From what Frank has said about MCR’s future, I get that they are doing everything at a peace that is comfortable for everyone. And that means respecting their time. Gerard himself before the announcement for the Shrine concert said if MCR came back they would release stuff without promo. His mental health talk during COVID also made it clear that he has a problem with overexposure. I understand we want more from them, I believe we will get much more, but nothing will happen unless it’s exactly when they are ALL ready for it. They just toured for a year after ten years and played over 60 songs, new and old, they deserve a break and they needed time to be a band again before anything else.

its not that gerard likes to quit, it is more his self sabotage habit. and this dates before the band. the new book release ‘where are your boys tonight’ features a story of gerard walking away from a comic opportunity to work on spiderman from before mcr. he had pretty much decided to walk away from the breakfast monkey before the company even made up their minds. he actually wanted to quit mcr after the first album and there is an interview where he mentions that ray helped convince him to stay. while he did pull off a solo album he did claim to be working on a second which he never followed through on. and these are just ones we know about.

fame is difficult and damaging, but it’s possible to have balance and healthy boundaries. and it also can’t be taken back.

the releasing things without promo really is a gerard insistence that i am not sure the rest of the band necessarily agrees with. i believe they do suprise releases to help hide behind the scenes chaos, short noticeness and allows them not to make any commitments until the last minute. look how frank and ls dunes are operating- they tell us when they write and record songs and when everything is going to be released. I think frank likes the certainty and commitment. it means they can’t cancel without consequences.

i fully agree with you that they would be taking a break anyways and need all the members to be on the same page. i’m just not sure gerard will ever be ready to go again unless he is successfully convinced. i think the bands future right now is uncertain, not decided. i bet warner brothers is pushing for an album and a lot of frank’s behaviour in ls dunes seems to be about egging gerard to continue on - like the look how lucky we are to tour with friends and have fun thing. i do believe gerard’s wife is against the band, and i would put money down that the weird behaviour on the lola account was her and related to this band tug or war thing.

but thank you for disagreeing with me kindly