#parade of inappropriate asks

[tragedycoded]

So would sex on a horse be a cardinal sin to Sullivan? And on the shallower end would he get hard having Royston up in front of him in the saddle? What's the horn-in-saddle potential for this calvary man? 😏✨️

Heyyy anon ;) Your other two questions are going to require me to Think, so I'm skipping ahead a bit.

Sullivan's concern is always his horse's safety/comfort. He doesn't think of horses as tools, they're living creatures that are agreeing to work with the rider.

(I don't want to call him a horse whisperer, but he was yanked from the sharpshooter division and put in the cavalry when it was established in 1855 bc of his experience working on ranches as a teenager and bc he's able to break unruly horses. So. Experience + empathy = knows how to convince horses to work with dumbass humans.)

Molly is slowly getting used to Royston, who treats her less like a horse and more like competition for Sullivan's attention. She doesn't much care for his tendency to climb up in her right stirrup and try to suck Sullivan's soul out of his mouth, but like... Sullivan maintains control of the reins and his core muscles etc. while it's happening. So she tolerates it. They would have to not rock around too much, or Royston would have to be the one doing most of the thrusting, because too much pelvic movement from Sullivan could annoy Molly. She's used to him moving with her, so if she's standing still and he's rocking back and forth, she thinks he's upset.

Minor spoiler: Sullivan has to ride with Royston on his lap at the end of Book 2. It's under less than sexy circumstances. He does not get an erection despite the fact Royston is latched onto him like an octopus.

Outside of life-or-death circumstances... and given the fact the both of them combined are not heavy enough to cause discomfort to a Morgan (Molly's breed)... he'd perk up.

Royston's like "DOES THIS MEAN I'M GOING TO GET MY FUCKING-IN-PUBLIC FANTASY FULFILLED??"

Maybe, Royston. If you're nice to Molly for the next 300 pages and were paying attention when I said not to jostle Sullivan around too much.

[badkitty3000]

Breaking The Rules

Five x Plus Size Female Reader, Words: 8,159, One-shot

Warnings: Smut, slight Daddy kink

So I received a very lovely request from someone I won't name, but they asked for something very specific:

"There aren't that many Five x plus size reader fics, And I think that should be changed"

I immediately jumped on this idea, because yes, this does need to change. Body representation is very important. I fully admit that I normally write Five with petite women, and that's usually because he's not a huge guy himself, so I tend to make them smaller. That's kind of the standard formula I suppose: bigger guy, smaller girl? But it doesn't have to always be that way. Everyone should be represented in a positive way.

Anyway, I have tried my best to fulfill this request and hopefully I do it justice. 😽❤️☂️

You had just been transferred from Records to Case Management. It was a pretty big promotion, but you had worked hard for it and deserved it. You were excited to be out of the stuffy records room and into the main population of employees since you were by nature a very social person. At one point you had thought about training for an agent position, but decided against it. Even though that’s really what you dreamed of doing. Instead, you figured vying for an executive position would be the best route, but that would take a few more years in the machine.

Part of your job was taking the data that you put together and assigning a particular agent to the case. You were good at solving puzzles, which is why you were put in this department to begin with, but you were also very good at reading people. You loved getting to know new people and their personalities, and what made them tick. People in general were fascinating to you, and the Commission had plenty of personalities.

As usual, you had no problem fitting in with your new coworkers. You had some sort of energy or charisma that drew others in. Maybe it was your infectious laugh, or your inappropriate sense of humor. Or just that way that you had of putting everyone around you at ease. Whatever it was, it was a source of pride for you. You liked being the one people gravitated to.

There was one person that did not seem as smitten with you as everyone else, and that was Number Five Hargreeves. You knew of him, of course. Everyone did. He was a legend among legends and there was a reason for that. You hadn’t been there the first time around, when he was fresh out of the Apocalypse, but when he came back years later as a younger version of himself, it was all anyone could talk about.

Five had a reputation for being aloof and if you caught him on the wrong day, he’d cut you down with some biting insult that was just as powerful as any physical harm he could do. He was smart, agile, and brutally honest. He was also hot as hell.

There seemed to be no end to the line of women that would purposefully parade past him on a daily basis. You couldn’t blame them, though. You’d caught yourself staring a few times, as you watched him read over a file with that serious expression of his, before he nodded a curt thank you and disappeared in a flash of blue. But you weren’t really that interested in him and you knew for a fact that he didn’t date inside the office. You admired that about him, actually, because neither did you.

Just because he wasn’t sleeping around the Commission, however, didn’t mean he wasn’t getting some action elsewhere. When you work for an organization that can see anything and everyone across all timelines and at any point in time…well, rumors are bound to start spreading. And you had heard a lot of them.

As with all rumors, it was hard to determine how much of it was true, but you could at least believe what you heard about his usual taste in women. Petite, thin, perky boobs, a flat stomach, and a small, tight ass. The guys at the switchboard loved to give descriptions of Five’s latest conquests, and they all sounded about the same. But hey, good for him, everyone has a type.

So, even if you were somehow interested in him from a romantic standpoint, you wouldn’t have made the cut anyway. You didn’t fit that stereotypical mold of those other women with your wide hips, slightly bigger breasts and butt, and a stomach that had never been flat. You doubted his usual dates had stretch marks on their thighs and hips, or even a small amount of cellulite on their ass. Not that you cared. Everyone’s bodies were different, after all.

Being a bigger sized woman didn’t bother you. You were confident in your body and made no apologies about it. Just because you couldn’t fit into the size negative two jeans that were constantly shoved in your face on every clothing store mannequin, didn’t mean you weren’t going to wear what you wanted. Short skirts, tight blouses that hugged your chest, or low cut, strappy dresses. If you liked it and it fit, who the fuck cared what anyone else thought? You liked yourself and your body, and if someone else didn’t, then that was their problem.

You liked sex, too, and you had no problems in that department either. You’d had many boyfriends, and a few one-night stands. Currently, you were unattached, but that was ok. There would be another man along at some point and you weren’t going to settle for someone you didn’t like. In the meantime, you’d ogle the eye candy at work.

It was a typical day when you had your first real interaction with Five. Sitting in the breakroom with your lunch, laughing loudly with your coworkers, the room suddenly became very quiet. You looked over to see Five strolling casually in, heading for the coffee station. He didn’t speak to anyone, or really even look in their direction, but there were nervous glances all around. One by one, your friends quietly made some excuse and got up to leave. Eventually, it was just you left at the table.

“Aren’t you going to flee in terror with the rest of them?”

You looked up, surprised to see that he was actually talking to you. You pointed to your salad in front of you. “I’m still eating. And you don’t really scare me, sorry.”

Five looked thoughtful for a second and you saw the glimmer of a smile before he took another sip of coffee.

“Nice work on the Edinburgh case, by the way.”

You nodded. “Thanks. I didn’t think you even knew who I was.”

Five shrugged. “I pay attention. Especially when I see real talent.”

You frowned. “So, you’re stalking me, is that what you’re telling me?”

Five almost choked on his coffee. “What? No! Why would you…”

“I’m kidding!” you laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Thank you, though. I appreciate the compliment.”

“Oh,” Five said, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re welcome.” Then he cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll leave you to finish your meal.”

“You don’t have to go, you know,” you said as he headed for the door. He stopped and looked back at you and you gestured to one of the empty seats. “It’s ok to relax sometimes. Maybe be social? And I don’t bite…at least not without prior consent,” you added with a wink.

Five stood there for a few seconds in thought, and you figured he was conjuring up some perfectly crafted insult for you. Instead, you saw his mouth twitch up at the corner and he gestured to you with his coffee cup.

“Well, that is very good to know. Consent is always important.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

A few days later you were standing with your friends in the hallway at the end of the workday, talking about the upcoming Commission pickleball tournament you were all playing in. One of your best players had been injured on a job and now you were down a body. As you were discussing options, you saw Five walking in your direction.

“Hey, Hargreeves!” you yelled. “You up for some pickleball?”

Five stopped in his tracks and actually looked around, as if there could be another Hargreeves standing right behind him. Then he looked back at you, thoroughly confused.

“What the hell are you doing?” whispered one of your friends.

“What?” you replied. “The guy’s like a hundred years old, he probably fucking loves pickleball.” You turned back to Five. “We need another player, you game?”

Still rooted to the spot, Five shook his head slowly. “Thanks for the invite. But I’ll have to decline.”

There was an audible sigh of relief from the rest of your group. You rolled your eyes. “Come on! It’ll be fun. You know what fun is, don’t you?”

Five narrowed his eyes, but you could see there was no bite to it. “Yes, I know what fun is.”

“Well, I promise this will be all sorts of fun.” You gave him a big smile. “And as a bonus, you’ll get to watch me run around in a short skirt.”

Your friend next to you slapped you on the arm. “What is wrong with you?” they hissed.

Five actually smiled for a second, you were sure of it. “Tempting, but again, I have to decline.” Then he continued on his way down the hall.

Over the next few weeks, you made it your personal mission to try and get Five to loosen up. Whether you personally delivered case files to him just as an excuse to talk to him, or purposefully followed him into the breakroom, you wouldn’t leave him alone until you got him to at least smile at something you said. After a while, you noticed he was much more relaxed around you. Eventually, you and he were officially friends, much to the amazement of everyone else around you. He even started seeking you out on his downtime.

“Hey there, handsome,” you joked as Five strode up to your desk one day. “Something I can do for you, or did you just miss me?”

“You know, I could report you to human resources for sexual harassment,” he said as he perched on the edge of your desk, folding his arms across his chest with a smile. He had a standard manilla file folder in one hand.

“It’s only harassment if you don’t like it,” you replied, pointing a pen at him.

“I’m not sure that’s accurate.”

“Sure it is,” you said as you jabbed him in the arm with the pen, laughing when he frowned and rubbed at the area. “But seriously, did you need something?”

“Maybe. I just wanted to run this by you.” He slapped the case file on your desk.

“What is it?”

“A case I was assigned to. I read it over though, and I don’t think it’s right. I wanted your opinion.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Me? The legendary Mr. Five wants my lowly opinion?”

“Just shut up and read the fucking file.”

With a laugh, you opened it and started reading. He watched you, rather intently you noticed, while you read. You frowned and shook your head, pointing at a paragraph. “Right here, this isn’t true. The clockmaker didn’t take a carriage to work that day. He walked.”

Five nodded. “That makes this whole case pointless, then. I’d be targeting the wrong person.”

“Shit, you’re right.” You looked up at him. “Good catch.”

“It looked off somehow, but I couldn’t figure it out. I knew you would, though.”

Normally you’d say something snarky to bust his balls, but he was being truly sincere and his compliment meant a lot to you. “Thanks, Five.”

He shrugged and grabbed the file off your desk. “Alright, see you later.”

As he turned around to leave, you couldn’t help yourself. “Hey, Five?”

He stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away.”

Five shook his head while you cackled at your own joke. “Can’t even make it ten seconds without treating me like a piece of meat. You’re hopeless.”

The following day, you were in the breakroom getting some coffee when you overheard a conversation by some of your coworkers.

“…yeah, I heard it’s not good. Took a shot right to the chest.”

“I heard it was a head shot; that he’s barely alive.”

“No way, I don’t believe it. Not him.”

You turned toward the group, coffee cup in hand. “Who are you talking about?”

“You haven’t heard? Your buddy was shot up pretty bad today.”

You frowned, lowering your cup. “Who, Five?”

“Yeah. I only heard bits and pieces so far, but it doesn’t sound great. They brought him directly to the infirmary when he came back. There was a trail of blood in the hall and everything.”

“What?” you cried, slamming your cup on the counter. “That can’t be.”

Your friend shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I heard.”

“Shit,” you hissed, before running out of the room.

You didn’t slow down the entire way to the infirmary, dodging people in the halls, and almost knocking a few of them over in the process. How could Five be hurt? And why was just the thought making you sick to your stomach?

You burst into the infirmary just in time to see several nurses scurrying away, and a very angry and bloodied Five sitting up in one of the hospital beds.

“God damnit, if you touch me one more time, I swear to god, I will strangle you with my IV line!”

“Oh my god, Five!” Without even thinking about it, you rushed up to him and threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly to you. “Holy shit, I thought you were dead!”

His body stiffened at first, but then he relaxed and put his arms around you in return. You heard him laugh and you pulled away.

“I bet you’d like that. Then you’d finally be able to molest me without me fighting back.”

You realized a few tears had slipped down your cheek and you hurriedly wiped them away. You gave him a half-smile. “You wish.” Then you looked him over, noticing the blood on his head and the IV in his arm. “Are you ok? What happened?”

He sighed. “Nothing, just a minor mishap. I’m fine.” He spoke louder and in the general direction of the nursing staff. “But these jack-holes won’t let me leave!”

You huffed out a laugh. “I can see you’re fine by your usual lovely attitude. You should hear the rumors going around about you, though. Pretty impressive.”

“Good. I need to keep up appearances.”

When you sat down on the side of the bed, you took one of his hands in yours and squeezed it. “I’m glad you’re ok, really. I got really scared there for a minute.”

Five smiled shyly at you and gave you a squeeze back. “I’m glad someone here was worried about me.”

You tilted your head to the side and brushed a stray piece of hair off his forehead and tried to wipe away a smudge of blood. “I doubt I’m the only one.”

“I think you are,” he said, looking you directly in the eyes.

You averted your eyes for a moment. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Maybe just one thing.”

“Sure, what do you need?”

He grinned. “Go on a date with me.”

You weren’t sure you heard him correctly. “Did they check you for a concussion because I thought you just asked me out on a date.”

“I did. And no, I am not concussed.”

“Five…” you started, blinking in confusion. “I don’t understand. Do you mean like a date date?”

He huffed and rolled his eyes. “Jesus. Yes, like a date date. Why is this so hard to believe?”

“Uh, well…because we’re friends. Also, I’m not really your type.”

His eyebrows creased together. “You’re not? You’re funny, smart, and sexy. Not to mention you flirt with me every chance you get. What’s not to like?”

“I do not flirt with you.” You smiled when you saw his incredulous expression. “Ok, yeah, I do. But that was just having fun and trying to make you laugh. I didn’t think you’d be into me.”

“Why not?”

“Ok, how do I put this? I have heard all about your little conquests and I know you have a running theme. Skinny, tiny, Barbie dolls that probably have never eaten a sandwich before. And not that there’s anything wrong with that. Everyone has a type and that’s ok. Hell, normally I prefer blond guys, but…”

“Normally?” he cut in.

You blushed. “Well, I do make some exceptions for certain grouchy, dark-haired men.”

Five nodded with a smile. “So then go out with me. I promise the only type I have is the type that I happen to be attracted to. And don’t believe everything you hear around here. Remember,” he pointed to the small abrasion on his head, “I was almost dead a couple of minutes ago.”

Hesitating, you shook your head. “I don’t date anyone from work.”

“Good. Me either,” he said, still grinning.

You laughed. “Alright, then, you wore me down. It’s a date. But only if you promise to stay here for at least another hour without verbally or physically abusing these poor health care workers. It’s not their fault you’re an asshole.”

“Fine, I’ll stay, but only because I want to go out with you.” He raised his voice so the rest of the room could hear. “Not because I need to be treated like a child who fell off their tricycle!”

The next Saturday, you and Five went on your date. When he saw your outfit, he was speechless for a few seconds. He was used to seeing you in your work clothes, which was always the same boring gray pants suit, but now he got to see you in your preferred style. A form-fitting, teal blue dress that stopped halfway down your thighs and had a keyhole neckline to show off a bit of cleavage. You paired it with some gold jewelry and black, strappy heels. You laughed at his face when he saw you.

“You look…” he stammered. “That dress…just wow.”

“Thank you.” You looked him up and down, liking the way his tailored pants fit his lean body just right and his casual button-down shirt that was rolled up at the sleeves accentuated his sculpted chest. You had never really noticed how strong he looked. “You look really good, too. Much better than the stuffy suits.”

“Agreed,” he said distractedly as he continued to stare at your chest.

“Excuse me, but my eyes are up here,” you joked, pointing to your face.

He looked up briefly, then back down at your body. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get to your eyes in a minute.”

“Wow, I had no idea you were such a pervert.”

He looked up at you with a devious smile. “Oh, yeah, huge pervert. I’m surprised you never picked up on that.” He laughed along with you and then offered his arm for you to loop yours through. “Shall we?”

At dinner, the conversation came easily. It was nice to be able to chat without having to cut it short due to work. Your stories were much duller than his, obviously, but he still seemed genuinely interested in anything you had to say. You made him laugh with your sarcastic comments and you loved knowing you were just about the only one that could crack that veneer of his. Over dessert, you finally worked up enough nerve to ask him what you really wanted to know.

“So, how come you’ve only dated thin girls before?”

Five looked surprised and he shook his head. “I haven’t only dated thin girls.”

You cocked your head to the side and raised your eyebrows. “Really?”

He coughed, embarrassed. “Ok, fine, that’s true. But it wasn’t a conscious decision. Like I said, I’m attracted to who I’m attracted to.” He paused. “But…”

“But what?”

“But what I am most attracted to is confidence. I like a woman that is sure of herself and assertive. A woman that knows what she wants.” He looked guilty for a second. “Usually, at least in my experience, those are the women that happen to fit into the societal standards of beauty. I hadn’t really thought about it until now, though. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, it’s not a bad thing. I was just curious.” You hesitated, not sure you wanted to keep pressing him for information. “What was it that attracted you to me, then?”

He looked surprised again and then he laughed. “Are you kidding? I’ve never met anyone as confident and self-assured as you. Plus, you’re funny and easy to be around. And almost as smart as I am.”

“As modest as always.”

“I’m just kidding,” he said with a smile. “You’re incredibly smart, obviously. I wouldn’t waste my time with someone who wasn’t. And…” He reached across the table and placed his hand on top of yours, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. You felt a warm, tingling sensation ripple through your body. “You are also incredibly sexy with your shameless flirting.”

“Well, I’m glad you noticed,” you said, taking your finger and brushing it over his. “And just in case you didn’t know, you are also incredibly sexy.”

“I did not know that.”

“Oh yeah. I made a lot of enemies once word got out that I was going on a date with you. Lots of jealous women back at headquarters right now.”

“Is that so? Can I get a list of those women, just in case this date goes bad?”

Taking your foot, you dragged it up his calf, all while looking him in the eye with one eyebrow raised suggestively. “I don’t think it’s going to go bad, do you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t now.” You saw him swallow hard and shift in his seat. “How about we get the check?”

When you got back to your place, you were almost falling through the door as you struggled to get inside while aggressively making out. Neither of you had even made it out of the car before you started groping one another, so that by the time you had made it home, you were both on fire.

“You know,” you mumbled between frantic kisses as Five slammed the door closed behind him with his foot. “I don’t usually put out on the first date.”

“Me either,” he said as he grabbed you around the waist to pull you in closer, kissing you along your jaw.

“Ok, I lied. Yes, I do,” you exhaled breathily as your hands wound into his hair and he moved his mouth to your neck.

“Good, because I lied too,” he said, stopping to look at you with a sly grin.

After letting out a short laugh, you were back on his mouth again, breathing hard through your nose and pressing your body against his. You could feel his arousal building as he pushed his groin into your hip. Your hands fumbled as you started to unbutton his shirt.

“Fuck, you are so hot,” he breathed against your neck. “I want you out of this dress.”

As you finished undoing the last button and pulling his shirt out of his pants, you nodded. “Yeah, good idea.” When you reached down to pull at the strap of your shoe, he put a hand on yours to stop you. When you looked up, he shook his head.

“I said the dress. The shoes stay on.”

Well, if you hadn’t been wet before, you were now. The tone of his voice and the seriousness of his face only added to the hotness factor and at that point you would have followed almost any demand he made of you. Leaving the shoes on, you pulled the dress over your head while he watched. Even though you hadn’t really been anticipating your date progressing this far, you had still prepared with a pair of satin panties and lace bra that matched the same jewel tone as the dress you dropped onto the floor.

Five didn’t say anything, just eyed you up and massaged the back of his neck. Then he let out a long, shaky exhale.

“Are you ok?” you asked, suddenly a little concerned he might not be liking what he saw.

Five nodded, his gaze not leaving your breasts. “Yeah, just give me a second. I’m trying not to come in my pants.”

Your astonished laugh was quickly cut off when you found yourself pinned against the wall on the other side of the room, the fluttery sensation of one of Five’s spatial jumps lingering in your stomach. Your squeak of surprise was swallowed by his mouth on yours, as he pushed hard against you, his hands on your tits.

When he flicked his tongue across your bottom lip, you moaned and closed your eyes, jerking your hips into him. Your hands found their way to his hard chest and muscular arms, feeling them tighten and relax with each movement. He let you tug his shirt the rest of the way off and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he pressed his face into the side of your neck and lifted one of your legs up to his waist. His hard cock was grinding into you as you drew in a ragged breath. When you felt his lips against your skin and his warm breath as he brushed his mouth over your neck, you let out a loud whine.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Let Daddy hear you,” he groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh and holding you tightly to him.

“Woah…Daddy?” you breathed out.

Five nodded, moving to the other side of your neck. “Is that ok?”

“Fuck yes, Daddy,” you moaned, running your hands greedily down his back.

You felt him smile against you and his kisses turned into small nips that he trailed down your neck and onto your shoulder.

“I want you. I can’t wait,” he said, his voice husky with desire.

“The bedroom is in there,” you said, pointing to the room just on the other side of the wall.

Five let your leg down and you pulled him by the hand into your bedroom, falling onto the bed and propping yourself on your elbows as Five stood there staring again.

“Well, come on, Daddy,” you teased. “I thought you couldn’t wait.”

A slow smile spread across Five’s face as he immediately started to undress the rest of the way, until he was crawling over you, completely naked. He rubbed his cock against your inner thigh, making a quiet growling noise in his throat before looking you in the eye.

“As much as I love this little bra and panty combination you’ve got going on here, I’m going to need those to go, too.”

When you nodded eagerly, he reached behind you and expertly unhooked your bra, tossing it off the bed before immediately moving farther south and ripping your underwear off. Once you were completely nude, Five sat back to take you all in. You assumed he liked what he saw, because it was only another second before he was covering you with his own body, attacking your full breasts with frantic sucking kisses.

“Damnit, honey, these tits…fuck,” he moaned as he buried his face in your cleavage.

“I take it that you’re pleased?” you giggled, threading your fingers through his hair.

He lifted his head, holding himself over you while he shoved your legs further apart with his knees. Then he lowered himself to kiss you tenderly, caressing your face with one hand. You let out a soft sigh.

“I’m more than pleased. You’re beautiful.”

He leaned in to kiss you again, this time using his free hand to travel down your chest and abdomen, and along your inner thighs. His long fingers met the soft, wet area between them, and he slowly ran them up through your pillowy folds, making you even wetter.

“Five…” you moaned as you rocked your hips up to match his strokes.

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he asked, only slightly condescending as he continued to watch your face for your reactions.

Five entered you with two fingers, pressing in slowly and then backing out again before repeating it in a slow rhythm. You chased his hand with desperate thrusts of your hips, biting your bottom lip to try to contain some of the noises that threatened to escape your lips.

“Fuck me, please,” you whined, throwing your head back.

He gave a quiet chuckle and you felt his hand move away from you. Then he was positioning himself between your legs and lowering himself so that you could feel his dick rubbing against your slit.

“God, I swear I’ve never been this hard in my life. I’m going to fuck you like you want, gorgeous. Daddy’s going to take care of you.”

“Oh, shit,” you gasped when you felt him enter you, just slow enough not to be jarring, but not drawing it out, either.

When he was fully inside, you angled your hips so he was at just the right spot.

“How’s that?” he whispered as he slowly pumped into you.

“That’s good…” You grabbed at his shoulders and back. “Keep going.”

Five continued his slow and lazy thrusts while holding himself over you so he could look down at your face and body. His hair fell forward over his eye and he made quiet groaning noises that were punctuated with soft kisses.

“You feel so damn good,” he moaned.

“Five?”

“What do you need, darling?”

“I need you to really fuck me. Hard.”

He looked down at you, momentarily stopping his movements. Then he laughed quietly and you smiled back. “Well, I did say I’d fuck you like you wanted, didn’t I?”

When he pulled out, you let out a soft sigh and watched as he crawled back off the bed, his dick still hard and wet from being inside of you.

“Wha--?” you started to ask, right before he yanked your legs sideways, so that you were laying across the width of the bed.

Five positioned himself between your legs, holding them up under your knees and settling them on either side of his waist while he lined himself up and slammed into you again.

“Is this what you wanted?” he snarled, continuing to thrust into you hard and fast.

“Yes!” you cried, clutching at the sheets beneath you.

Every time he pounded into you, you got to feel the intensity of his strength as your entire body moved back and forth, your tits bouncing enticingly in front of him. He gave your voluptuous ass a hard slap that made you cry out again. You instinctively covered your mouth with your arm.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Five warned through clenched teeth. “Uncover your mouth. I want to hear you scream.”

Everything he was doing and saying was driving you quickly over the edge, and you did scream for him, just like he wanted. You couldn’t even help yourself.

“Yes…please…keep going…harder, please! I need more!”

You were begging and pleading while he railed into you as hard as he possibly could, thrusting his thick cock deep inside of you while slamming his pubic bone right into your clit every single time. All while completely supporting your lower body, angling it up and off the bed so he could fuck you relentlessly and perfectly.

Soon, you felt your muscles start to twitch and your head fell back, your mouth wide open as you repeatedly asked him to fuck you harder. When you finally hit that wall, you completely lost yourself, screaming his name while bucking and thrashing wildly against him.

Your orgasm was still coming in waves when Five released himself inside of you, his head tipped back and jaw set, growling obscenities while his muscles contracted and he dug his fingers harder into your thighs.

When the intensity had passed, Five let go of your legs, setting them gently down, and he leaned over the top of you, his hands on either side of your head. He kissed you tenderly, still trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck, that was good,” he said with a heavy exhale.

You nodded, laying a hand on his cheek. “So damn good.”

After another minute, you both moved so that you were lying longways on the bed again. Five held you against his chest while he kissed your forehead and traced his fingers down your arms and back.

“I’m not sure why we haven’t been doing that all along,” he joked.

“Because you needed to get to know me and my sparkling personality first.”

Five rolled his eyes. “Sparkling? I don’t know, that seems a bit much.”

When you giggled, he pulled you close to him. Your lips pulled to the side in thought and after a few seconds you decided to just put it out there.

“Are you sure you’re ok with my body? I mean, I am, but I just want to make sure you are, too. Because if this is going to continue, and I really hope it does, then I need to know you’re going to be ok with my size and not try to change me after a while. I’ve dated men in the past that said they were ok with it, but then a month or so later, they’re encouraging me to go to the gym or making comments about my diet. They all got kicked to the curb, because I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. I am who I am and I love my body. I just want to make sure you do, too.”

Five was quiet for a moment, then he held your chin in his hand. “Look at me,” he said quietly, while tilting you face up. “I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression that body type or looks matter to me, because it doesn’t. I just had the most mind-blowing sex I have ever had, and I wouldn’t change one single thing about you. You’re perfect.”

“Wow,” you said with a smile. “Five Hargreeves just called me perfect. Wait until I spread this rumor down at headquarters.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “You believe me, don’t you?”

You nodded. “I believe you. And thank you.” You gave him a soft kiss and smiled. “So, does this mean I can keep sexually harassing you at work?”

“I hereby give you permission to harass me as much as you want on a daily basis. I will welcome it.”

After that first date, you and Five couldn’t get enough of one another. It was like just being in the same building with him set your body on fire. You would find yourself staring off, lost in a daydream about what his mouth felt like and then someone would clear their throat or say your name, and you’d realize they had been talking to you without you noticing.

Obviously, everyone knew that something was going between you two. You hadn’t exactly spread the word, but you also hadn’t denied it. You didn’t really care what anyone thought, anyway. The only problem was, there was a strict policy of no relationships between case managers and field agents in place. This was done to protect the agents, and to avoid any favoritism with assignments. A few casual flings here and there were overlooked, but serious relationships were usually squashed. Not that you would describe what you had as serious. Yet, anyway.

You did love spending time with one another, even without the sex. You even made Five join you at lunch with your usual group, much to the shock of your friends. It was awkward at first, but when Five cracked a very dry and cutting joke about someone in upper management, the table went silent for a second before bursting into laughter. He looked at you in surprise, like he couldn’t believe he was having this type of positive social interaction. You just smiled and shrugged, mouthing “I told you so”.

Despite the fact that you spent a lot of time together outside of work, that didn’t stop either of you from taking advantage of your proximity at the Commission. You had lost count of the number of times you two had stolen away somewhere in the building for a quickie during the day. With Five’s status plus his convenient teleportation powers, you could hide anywhere you could think of that would give you at least a few minutes of privacy.

You would be sitting there, attempting to work on a case, when Five would come strolling in. Just the sight of him striding into the room, all confident and sexy with that tiny smirk on his face, made you want to jump on top of him. He would approach you with some made up problem he had and ask you to go with him so you could help straighten it out. It was pretty apparent what was going on, and your coworkers would exchange glances around you, but you didn’t care.

Once you were safely down the hallway, Five would grab you and blink you into some abandoned storage room where you were immediately attacked. You had told him to stop being so aggressive while at work, because the hickeys he was leaving on your neck were clearly visible. But that didn’t stop him from shoving you against a table or a wall, all while kissing you fervently and telling you how much he wanted you in that deep, growling voice of his.

Dropping to his knees to eat you out while kneading the flesh of your ass. Spinning you around to bend you over a table before fingering you and then fucking you from behind. Biting and sucking at your tits and stomach, leaving marks that would be hidden by your clothes, but were still a reminder of who you belonged to. All of it was expertly done, as only Five could do, and you couldn’t get enough.

The servicing wasn’t a one-way street, though. You liked to flip the tables sometimes and push him against the wall, sliding slowly down his body until you were kneeling in front of him, hands already clawing at his belt and zipper while you called him Daddy. When you would take all of him into your mouth, he would hiss through his teeth and groan loudly, his hand resting in your hair while he praised you for being good for him. He wanted you to look at him while you sucked him off, and tell you to finger yourself while you did it. You’d be choking on his dick, a hand shoved into your panties, and both of you moaning until you came; all while the throngs of Commission employees were passing by right outside the door.

It was quickly becoming apparent that your relationship was evolving into something more. You were starting to spend more nights together, sleeping in one another’s beds, curled up together and waking up happy in the morning, just to be near each other. Five loved cuddling up with you, pulling your soft body close against his, and nuzzling into your neck or hair. He told you how happy you made him and thanked you for pulling him out of his shell. He’d idly stroke your arms and thighs while you would lie together in the dark, just talking quietly. In the morning, he’d trace patterns over the white, jagged lines that criss crossed your abdomen and hips, reminding you how beautiful you were as the sunlight spilled across your bed.

Your feelings for Five were starting to seep into your everyday routines and the work you normally prided yourself on. You found yourself worrying about every assignment he went on, even though you knew he was a professional and could handle it.

After a while, the cases you started assigning him got easier and easier, whereas before you would have given him the most difficult and dangerous ones. He finally called you out on it when he received a total rookie assignment while another agent that was not nearly as skilled received a much more complicated one.

He sat on the corner of your desk, a smug grin on his face, as he dropped the file in front of you.

“What the hell is this?” he asked you, still smiling.

You glanced down at the file, then back at him. “What do you mean?”

He tapped the file with his finger. “This garbage. It’s a case for a newbie. Hell, you could probably hand this to any random person off the street and they could do it. So what’s going on?”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest and frowning. “Maybe I thought you just needed a break, that’s all.”

He studied your face and shook his head. “No, that’s not it. Every case I get from you these days is getting simpler and simpler. I just haven’t said anything until now. Are you losing faith in my abilities, is that it?”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Of course not! It’s just, you know…” Your voice trailed off and your eyes flitted away from his.

“No, I don’t know. Tell me.”

With a heavy sigh, you dropped your hands onto the desk in front of you, looking up at him. “Fine. I’m scared to give you anything complicated because I’m afraid something will happen to you. And I don’t really want my boyfriend being gunned down or stabbed or beaten all to shit, ok? Especially not in another timeline where you might not even be able to come back.”

Five took a second to absorb that information, then he looked down with a smile. “You really worry about me?”

“Yes, I worry about you. Is that so bad? You might not be as amazing as you think you are. You’re not infallible, you know.”

Five made a face like he hadn’t actually considered that before, which was mildly infuriating, and then he looked at you with that gentle smile of his that you knew he saved only for you. He leaned in and gave you a quick but tender kiss full on the mouth, even though you were still in a roomful of people that could see. When he pulled away, you felt your face flush, but not from embarrassment.

“Thank you,” he whispered earnestly.

Then he flashed you that arrogant smirk again, the dimple on his cheek deepening, before snatching a much thicker file off your desk, and blinking away without another word.

It was only a matter of time, you supposed, before Corporate caught wind of your relationship. Especially when you were making erratic decisions with your cases lately. Both you and Five received a notice from senior management requesting a meeting. You were a mess of anxiety and nerves when the time came. Your career was important to you, and it was not in your nature to just throw that away for some man. But Five wasn’t just any man, was he? If you were going to have to choose between your job and your relationship with him, you had no idea what you were going to do.

Sitting in front of the executive’s desk, your leg bounced up and down with nerves as you waited for Five to join you. When he arrived, he had the absolute audacity to look calm and unbothered as he sat down in the chair next to you. He greeted the manager and then turned to give you a wink and a small smile. You really had no idea how he could be this nonchalant. Maybe he didn’t care if you had to end things.

“As I’m sure you know, the reason you two have been called here today is –”

Five cut your manager off mid sentence. “Yes, we are fully aware. According to section 64, subsection D of the Commission Code of Conduct, we are prohibited from being in a romantic relationship with one another.”

The executive paused. “Well, yes, that’s correct. And so –”

“And so you have to inform us that we either have to end our relationship or resign from our positions.”

There was another moment of perplexed silence from across the desk. “Uh, yes…”

“But that is only because of the current departments we work for, due to conflicting interests, correct?” Five continued.

“That is correct, yes. But—”

“So, if we move to the same department, that shouldn’t be an issue?”

“Well…yes…I suppose…”

You looked at Five, completely confused. “Five, what are you doing? You don’t want to work in case management. I know you don’t.”

He nodded. “You’re right. But you can train to become a field agent.”

Your mouth hung open. “What?”

“You’ve only mentioned that you were interested in being out in the field about 50 times, so why not? They can always use more agents,” he turned to the manager, “Isn’t that right?”

The man cleared his throat. “Oh. Well, yes, that’s true.”

Five nodded again, as if that explained everything. “Alright then, so move her to my department. She has the determination and skill. And you have my official recommendation, which as you know, holds a lot of weight around here.”

There was another look of bewilderment in your direction. “Yes, Mr. Hargreeves, that’s true. I suppose we could do that—”

Five stood up with a smile. “Great! It’s all settled then.” He turned to you, still sitting in your chair and trying to make sense of all of this.

What he had said was true. You had told Five many times that you wished you could have his job. But you figured that was outside of your skill set. Five didn’t seem to agree. He knew you were highly intelligent, strong, and had the right personality. You just needed the proper training.

He reached out a hand to pull you up. “Is this all ok with you, darling? Do you have anything to add?”

You shook your head slowly. “Uh, no…I mean, yes…I mean, yes I’m ok with it and I don’t have anything else to add.”

“Great!” Five turned to the manager. “Just send me the paperwork we need to fill out and we can call it good.”

The manager shook each of your hands and it appeared that the meeting was over before it began. Five guided you towards the door with a hand on your back. You looked over your shoulder, still unsure of what exactly just happened, but you let him push you outside into the hall.

“What the fuck, Five?” you demanded, hands on your hips. “You want to tell me what is happening right now?”

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? They weren’t going to let us keep dating if we were working in our current departments, so one of us had to move. And I know this is what you really wanted.”

You thought for a moment. “So…you didn’t think of breaking up with me just to keep things the same?”

His mouth dropped open and then he snapped it shut again, his brows furrowing and creating deep creases between his eyes. “No. Of course not.” He took a few steps closer to you and took your face gently into his hands, gazing into your eyes. “I love you.”

You drew in a sharp breath. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, this time with a smile.

You answered him, your own grin spreading slowly across your face. “Say that again.”

Five laughed, leaning down to kiss you and you hugged him around his waist. “I love you,” he said again after breaking away.

“I love you too, Five. I don’t know if I realized it until just now, but I do. I love you so much.”

Five nodded. “Well, that’s a relief. Because I would have looked like a giant asshole if I did all that and you shot me down.”

Laughing, you reached up for another kiss that quickly turned very heated. When you pulled away, Five was breathing hard and he tugged your body harder against his.

“There’s an empty room down the hallway over there,” he said suggestively.

You shook your head. “Sorry, honey, but we have to get to work. I have a lot of training to start on.”

“I think you forget who your new boss is,” he said in that serious tone of his.

Five pulled you in tightly again, kissing you hard on the mouth and flattened you against the wall. His hand roamed down to your chest and he gave your breast a small squeeze while pressing his knee in between your legs. When he heard you moan softly into his mouth, he backed away with a grin.

“You know, I can report you to HR for sexual harassment,” you said with a crooked smile, even though you were having a hard time controlling your heart rate.

“It’s not harassment if you like it,” he shot back before giving you a loud smack on the ass.

Then he turned around and walked away, leaving you flustered and hot; but also with that amazing feeling in the pit of your stomach from knowing you had found the perfect person to love and that loved you just as much in return.

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[erikatsu]

slutty old man welt 🧐 😋 monch 😋

tw: fem!reader. [n]sfw. age gap (cuz welt's like 80 lmao). mention of masturbation (m). oral (m!receiving). reader refers to welt as "mr. yang". pussy job (sorta). clothed sex. creampie. a bit rushed but oh well. maybe a bit ooc but i tried my best :,)

note: i went from idc for welt to okay im simping for welt LMAO. i love slutty old guys sue me. also lala im so sorry, i got carried away

welt yang often thought himself to be an ethical man. he'd been taught responsibility from a young age, always tried to do the right thing. at least he did until he met you. you'd caught his eye, but he knew better than to get involved with someone so young. however, the more he got to know you, the more he couldn't help himself.

it started out as looking at you for a little too long, knowing that he shouldn't. it's wrong the way his eyes linger as he watches you walk away, and you don't even realize you have his complete and undivided attention with your back turned to him. he knew that it wasn't okay, that he was old enough to be your grandfather even if physically he looked old enough to be your dad.

he didn't know when the lines began to blur– his inappropriate attraction to you turning into something much more than that– and he didn't know if it would ever go away. then again, welt wasn't even sure that he wanted it to. there was no harm in having a crush, especially if he didn't act on it. but, that was just wishful thinking– something he told him himself to rationalize his thoughts and feelings.

unfortunately for him, it got worse as time went on and those thoughts he tried to keep at bay were crossing his mind more often. and eventually, he stopped trying to hold them back all together. he stopped feeling guilty for thinking them too. so long as he wasn't trying to pursue you, he could maintain his integrity. even if at times he had to leave the room due to this. it's not as if it were entirely his fault. after all, welt had the power of his imagination.

every time you paraded around in shorts, he couldn't help but try to picture what you had on underneath them– was it lace, or silk, or perhaps nothing at all? he couldn't help himself when he'd see you had a sucker in your mouth, imagining what it would be like if it was your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock instead. that imagination always led him to where he is right now, sitting at his desk in his room with his head tilted back as he fisted his cock to the thought of you.

it wasn't an uncommon occurrence for him. although, you walking in on him just as your name almost fell from his lips was. a gasp fell from your mouth, one that would sound even prettier if he was the reason behind it, and he tried to react quick enough so you couldn't see what he was doing. but, it was too late.

you could see the embarrassment painting his cheeks a bright pink, and instead of turning around like you should have, you stayed. it surprised him when you asked, "mr. yang... do you need some help?"

of all the scenarios he imagined, this certainly was not one of them.

he cleared his throat, about to shake his head. not that he didn't want it, because he did. he did and the thought of it becoming a reality had him throbbing. but what kind of man would he be if he took advantage of your kindness? if he crossed that fine line? words, however, seemed to fail him when he went to speak.

its not as if you were being kind. you had also taken an interest in him– maybe not to the extent he did– and the curiosity and excitement were definitely there. you weren't quite sure what exactly it was about him, but he'd drawn you in without even trying. and the way he hesitated to answer told you what you already knew. he was interested, but he had his morals.

it wasn't until you approached and knelt in front of him that he let them all fly out the window. your hand replaced his, gentle yet firm. he let out a shaky breath, eyes closing before you took him in your mouth. he couldn't help the noise that escaped him, one of the scenarios he imagined finally playing out in real life.

it was ten times better than what went through his head.

he could tell you were enjoying how much of a mess he became so easily– purposely taking your time going down before coming up and teasingly snaking your tongue along his pink tip. you couldn't help but wonder just how long it had been since the last time a woman had touched him like this, seeing how he was already so close to the edge. possibly years, you figured as your free hand came up to cup his balls, giving them a light squeeze. perhaps even longer, you concluded upon hearing the groan that escaped him.

you pulled away, leaving your hand where it was, still toying with him as you looked up at him, "mr. yang, just how long has it been since someone properly took care of you?"

too long, he wanted to say. but his mind was overran by all the sensations he was feeling due to you. luckily, you were sharp and your assumptions were correct. you hummed to yourself before standing, his eyes flying open once your touch was gone. imagine his surprise when he saw you sliding out of those cotton shorts you always loved to wear.

he couldn't believe how one person left him utterly speechless, unable to process what was about to happen as you sat in his lap. he watched as your eyes left his, briefly glancing down to his lips. almost as if you were hesitant to make another move. although he couldn't muster the courage to speak, he could certainly pull you closer and press his lips against yours with ease.

his hands flew down to your hips, rocking you against his length. you whimpered against his mouth, already aching for him. you definitely didn't need the warm up– his reactions alone were enough to get you going– yet you allowed yourself to enjoy it for the moment. the two of you crossed a line there was no coming back from, and the possibility of this being the only time had the both of you engrossed in the other. trying to memorize the way you two fit together as if you were puzzle pieces.

the thought of this being the only time flipped some kind of switch in his mind, his hands moving to your thighs before standing up and taking you with him. he took just a couple of steps before lying you down on his bed, eagerly slipping out of his before hovering over top of you. his eyes searched yours for any sign of apprehension or nervousness. but he found none. a simple nod of your head was all it took to have him pushing one of your legs back and lining himself up with your entrance.

as he sank into you, he once again caught you by the mouth. you whined as he slowly stretched you out, trying to keep quiet so you didn't catch the unwanted attention of the others. the express had thin walls, and everyone throughout the hall would hear you if they were in their rooms.

"let it out," he muttered, rolling his hips with a slow steady rhythm, allowing you to adjust to him. "dont get shy now."

it didn't seem to be an option, using that moment to fully bottom out inside you. your back arched and a choked noise left your mouth. he did this a few times– keeping his thrusts short yet deep– picking up his pace until your whines and whimpers turned into moans. you could feel your toes curl as the tip of his cock lightly kissed that sweet spot, finally crying out, "mr. yang. r-right there."

he thought the two of you were now well past formalities, but he couldn't help but groan that escaped him at your use of "mr. yang". it had him rutting quicker, and with a bit more force. you were panting, clinging to him while squeezed your eyes shut. his hips were moving at an alarming rate as you dug your fingers into his skin, clenching around him as you cried out. a knot quickly built up in your stomach, releasing just as quickly as it came.

cursed left his mouth as you tightened around him, excited moans leaving you and a euphoric sensation sweeping over your body leaving you a shaking mess underneath him. he hadn't even heard his warning that he was going to cum too, but you didn't seem phased when he pushed into you with one final thrust.

you tried to catch your breath, staring up at him through your lashes. he was still hard, cock twitching inside you as he also tried to cool down. you briefly bit down on your lip, unable to stop yourself from asking, "are you up for another round, mr. yang?"

TAGS: @dottores @dxlucs @mxnjiros @suyacho

[starboyshoyo]

The Summer After Graduation

Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Deuce Spade, Trey Clover, Epel Felmier x fem!reader (separately)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Genre: Fluff, domestic

Warnings: suggestive jokes, nothing inappropriate.

It’s the summer after graduation and the beginning of the rest of your life. After moving to your boyfriend’s hometown and living with his family, you begin to realize that there may be a future in Twisted Wonderland for you after all.

Part One (HERE) || Part Two (Malleus, Silver, Sebek)

Four years have passed since the Dark Mirror beckoned you forth. Your time at Night Raven College and as the Ramshackle prefect have come to an end. You and your high school sweetheart have made the decision to move back to their hometown and build a new life together, starting with the summer after graduation…

Kalim Al-Asim

‘The Asims are a generous family that love and cherish their son and future daughter-in-law. In tradition with our past, you and your lover will spend the summer at  Port Ormos, a seaside village off the coast of the Land of Scalding Sands. Don’t worry about transport or living situation- it will all be taken care of for you. We love you, Kalim, and we’re so proud of you for graduating!’ 

That’s what the letter from Kalim’s mother and father to him read. Right after graduating from NRC, you and your boyfriend were swept up in a gaggle of servants and guards. Jamil had packed all of your belongings already, and a bashful Kalim informed you that you were on your way to something he referred to as the ‘Asim pre-honeymoon vacation.’ It’s a tradition in my family for newlyweds to spend some time together at the village, he laughed. I guess they were just super excited to know I had someone as wonderful as you by my side, and got a little hasty! I hope you don’t mind.

With that, you were off through the magic mirror and on your way to your new summer home.

Kalim’s parents weren’t kidding when they said everything would be taken care of. Not only had servants transported all of your things neatly and carefully to the Asims’ manor overlooking the town, but a parade and festival had been thrown in honor of your arrival. Why, you might ask? Because the Asims owned the entirety of Port Ormos. You knew they were wealthy, but this was a whole other level. 

Immediately upon arrival, Kalim was dragging you into various shops and restaurants around town. Each time you walked through a door, you would be greeted warmly by eager staff and ushered in to have a look at their finest goods. Point to any one you like, and an attendant will be by your side, packing it into a bag for you or loading it up to carry it back to the manor. Only the best for Lady Asim, you hear managers whisper to their employees. 

In fact, it seemed like everyone in the harbor town treated you like you were part of the Asim family already, even though you were an ordinary student at Night Raven College not even a week ago. For the duration of the trip, you would take on the family name and honored titles. You don’t miss the happy, flustered grin that Kalim gives you every time someone calls you Miss Asim or Lady Asim. You’ve even caught him browsing jewelry shops for rings on more than one occasion… What could he be planning? 

Jamil, as usual, had been chosen to accompany you and Kalim on this trip. However, he wasn’t staying with you two in the manor- he and his own family had been given a beachfront home to stay in. While Jamil did check on you and Kalim from time to time, he mostly gave you your space, and for good reason. His eyes were still scarred from the time he walked in on you two in the dressing room… He’ll stay in his own home, thank you very much. 

Mornings in the harbor town with your boyfriend are much like those in Scarabia dorm, but with a lot more privacy. Kalim likes to sleep in late, and get up whenever he feels like it. So you two will be cuddled up in bed together for a while, even after waking up. If you do try to leave early you’ll be met with arms looped around your waist, and a sleepy Kalim mumbling in your ear, five more minutes? By the time you manage to roll out of bed, it’ll be noon. 

Your room in the mansion is just as luxurious as you could expect from the Asim family- a king-size bed with crisp white sheets, sheer curtains, and a gorgeous view of the sprawling port town far below. Breakfast consists of light sandwiches and wraps to start off your day, plus fresh-squeezed fruit juices or coffees to compliment the meal. It’s all cooked by Jamil of course, and brought up to your rooms by him as well. The Al-Asims weren’t taking a risk with the food prepared for you or Kalim- they would never forgive themselves if the newest member of their family were to get sick. 

Kalim is a very spontaneous person, one of the reasons you love him so much. Every day he’ll think of something new and fun for you to do. The world is his oyster, and you’re the pearl! You could stroll along the docks, holding hands and greeting every sailor along the way, or browse the street markets for artisan goods. Any time you stop to look at something for more than a few seconds, Kalim will drape himself over you and join you in ogling it over your shoulder. Anything fascinating to you is interesting to him too! There won’t be a boring day anywhere in your summer. 

When your time in Port Ormos comes to a close, you can’t help but feel a little sad. You and Kalim will spend one final day around town, enjoying your time together. Another festival is held in your honor- this time, in the evening- and Kalim will bring you out onto the balcony of your room to watch fireworks being launched into the sky. 

When the first round of sparks explode high above your head, you’ll notice he has a ring box in his hand. He even might trip a little as he gets down on one knee, he’s so hasty in trying to get everything right. 

I know this was supposed to be just a little taste of what life together is supposed to be like, but I want this every day with you, for the rest of my life! You bring me so much happiness and my family just adores you, too- not to mention, we’ll get to come back here! So please… won’t you marry me?” 

Deuce Spade

Moving into Deuce’s childhood apartment after graduation was a quiet but well-managed affair. You didn’t have much to transport anyways. However, formal introductions would have to be made when you arrive in the Kingdom of Hearts- you had never met Deuce’s mother before. You already knew what a generous and kind person she would be, though. Deuce spoke highly of her at all times. Her greetings to you are warm, and Deuce’s cheeks are dusted with pink. He looked as if his heart was going to explode- The two people he loved most in the world were finally meeting! Everything was all coming together now. 

Deuce’s family’s apartment is cozy and well-kept. The shelves are dusted and everything seems so homey. Looking down the hallways, you notice small, faded marks low on the wall- crayon scribbles. Frayed edges of carpets and photos on the walls make it clear- your boyfriend had been raised in such a loving environment. It’s not very big, Deuce tells you with an embarrassed look, but it’s the best we can do at the moment. I promise we’ll get a bigger home in the future. You look back at him with love in your eyes. It’s perfect, Deuce. Just take things one day at a time- little steps.  

Though Deuce tried his best in school, he wasn’t able to make it onto the honor roll. Still, the moment his mother saw his diploma from Night Raven College, she gasped and pulled him into a tight hug. His diploma and graduation photo were framed and hung on the wall- and with your permission, Deuce’s mother would frame and hang yours as well, right next to his. You and Deucey are first in our family to graduate, she would tell you proudly, admiring the papers on the wall. I’m so proud. Thank you for looking after him…

Well, you could say the same back to her. 

Within just a few days of returning home, Deuce had to start work. He had been hired in a mechanic’s shop halfway across town, and was gone on long shifts for most of the day. He’s not around much, but when he is, he tries his best to spend time with you. No matter what he’ll kiss you good morning and good night, even if you’re asleep when he leaves or arrives home. On his rare days off, he’ll make sure to take you on a date, even if it’s just eating a meal together in the park on a picnic blanket. He’ll bring you small gifts from the shops around town, from extra tips he’s collected over time. You will never feel unloved under his watch. 

During the day while Deuce is out working, you help his mother around the apartment. She’s perpetually cheerful when her son is around but sometimes, when it’s just the two of you at home, you’ll notice her having to sit down often and rub aching joints. The poor woman has worked herself to the bone trying to care for Deuce by herself all those years. When you ask her about it, she’ll confide in you- I haven’t told Deuce about this, she says with a rueful smile. I don’t want to worry him. But I’m so happy my little Deucey found someone so lovely and kind. I’d be proud to call you my daughter. 

After that conversation, you write a letter to Riddle Rosehearts- an old friend of yours who is studying to become a magical doctor. He agrees to have a look at Ms. Spade, and give her a trial medicine he’s been working on, free of charge- hopefully it will help with the pain. Deuce’s mother tries to protest- There’s no way I can accept such generosity! But in the end, she caves. She’s not quite ready to tell Deuce yet, but that’s alright. It’s just like you told him; things might take a while- we’ll start with little steps. 

Trey Clover

Living with your boyfriend’s family is hard work, but rewarding. Trey is expected to inherit the Clover family bakery when he gets older, and he works tirelessly to keep business up and running. His parents had doubts about you moving in at first- since the Rose Kingdom is on an island, they weren’t able to meet you previously. But with a bit of hard work and effort, they’re willing to look past your inexperience and see you for the wonderful person their son has come to love. 

During the day, when Trey is busy with work, his mother or father will help teach you the basics of running the shop- how to work the ovens and give orders to the employees, as well as use more advanced equipment they use to make the delectable treats they sell. Don’t mind the little ones when they ask for a sweet, Trey’s father tells you, sending a disapproving glance at his two younger children. Chances are they’ve already stolen one or ten from the back counter when you weren’t watching. 

Speaking of Trey’s younger siblings, they absolutely love you. His little brother has a bit of a puppy crush on you and will hang around the bakery when you’re working there. He’ll often have a little gift in his hand when he returns from playing outside. Look, I found this flower on the trail near the stables!  

Trey’s younger sister is just as adoring of you as her brother, but in a different way. She’s so used to roughhousing with two boys, and is super excited to have a sister around now! She’ll chat your ear off about anything and everything, and is always willing to help you out if you don’t know what to do with certain ingredients or bakery customs. 

Though Trey works long hours, the Clovers live above their bakery shop and he never has to deal with long travel times. That leaves him with a decent amount of time to spend with you. He’ll often ask you to accompany him on strolls around the village, where he goes out of his way to help neighbors. You learn that Trey has a bit of a reputation as a heartthrob in the small community where they live- they’re so excited to know someone has finally won his affections! The town’s golden boy is growing up so fast… 

At home above the shop, you and Trey are mostly left alone to your devices. His parents trust you enough not to monitor your every move- but Trey’s father has one rule. You two sleep in separate rooms, and no closing the door when you’re in the bedroom together! We have enough little sprogs running around underfoot already. You have to promise him that no funny business will be going on in the home. (Well, at least for now- but don’t tell him that!)

Epel Felmier

Having visited Harveston once before, the trip to Epel’s home village was like returning home after a long vacation. Epel’s grandmother, Marja, welcomes you back as kindly as ever, all the while nagging Epel for not visiting home more often! You should think about your lonely old granny from time to time, Epel. You aren’t in the village for long, though- for the summer, you would be visiting an entirely new place- a town a few hours south of Harveston, where the rest of Epel’s extended family resided. 

Epel’s aunts, uncles, cousins, and more have yet to hear about you. When you first step into the large farmhouse where the family has gathered, you’re immediately swarmed by dozens of blue-eyed, lavender-haired relatives, all gushing- Epel! Who is this young lady, and why didn’t you tell us about her before? She’s so cute! How did that sailor-mouth of yours manage to snag you someone so lovely? 

Epel might be a little sour over their comments. He gets a bit possessive at times- he wants your attention on him as much as possible, and there are so many people to compete with! I’m not rough all the time, y’know! I can be a gentleman when I want to be. Now hands off’a her, she’s mine. He’ll ease up a bit when you remind him to overstep. 

It’s a bit impressive how similar all of Epel’s relatives look. They’re all a bit on the short side, with the same hair and eyes. Small differences are evident in separate branches of the family, but overall they look very put together. You might feel like a bit of an outsider at first, but don’t worry! The feeling won’t last for long. It’s hard to feel lonely among such a boisterous crowd. 

During the warm months, the apple orchard is still in full capacity. While most of the apples aren’t ripe yet, a small sect of trees, the summer orchard, is ready for harvest. Everyone in the family pitches in to pick apples. Though you’re not as practiced, you join in on the fun! At least, you try until Epel’s youngest cousins grab your hands and pull you away to play with them. Marja tells you not to worry about work- they can handle it. Go have some fun!

Epel glares at his cousins as they retreat, dragging you in tow. Marja pokes him in the back with a smile on her face. Go on, boy, she tells her grandson. You can have the day off- spend some time with your lady love before those little rascals steal her away. She pauses. I wouldn’t mind having a granddaughter in law before I leave this earth. 

Red to the tips of his ears, Epel scurries after the children to find you. He joins you laying in the grass watching the kids nearby and mumbles in your ear- Y’know… I’ve been thinking- maybe it’s not a bad idea to get hitched after all. 

A/N: The Kalim favoritism is so obvious here… 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 

[xblackreader]

SydCarmy Meets The Family <3

>>> The thought of Carmy being introduced to Sydney’s tons of Nigerian Aunties and Uncles is very humorous to me.

“And Here he is! I brought you my boyfriend, Carmen finally. So everyone leave me alone about it.” Sydney starts, once she has hugged everyone.

The ‘Please go easy on my white man’ is silent but they nod. Raising up to shake his hand and her littlest clingy cousin who greets her, stares him down like he’s an alien.

He sticks out like a blonde haired blue eyed sore thumb, but once he’s been greeted and given a general threatening message via all her uncles (in tight jeans and sandals, which lightens the threats) he is told to put down the things they brought in the kitchen.

“Nice firm handshake.” He hears an uncle comment as he leaves and he is elated. It’s small but it’s approval!

Once in the kitchen, the auntie’s crowd to greet him with hugs and get distracted seeing him for the first time, squeezing his muscles and touching his hair.

“Eh… nwa ocha ya di short mana sara mbara…”

“Ma o nwere big muscles!

“No! Yana min kyau! Cute!”

Carmy: “Uh, do… do they like me?”

Sydney: “Oh, they love you. They’re plotting to steal you away from me.”

“Big nose though…”

Carmy: “well… okay, that was English.”

Her younger cousin, David, walks up to Carmen as he chops vegetables. Pulling a little stool over and standing at his side, wordlessly. He stares first at Carmen himself then the vegetables the white man cuts so effortlessly.

Little sticky fingers rise and reach for the knife and Carmen just laughs as he attempts to pry it from much larger stronger hands.

“Can I see?” David asks, confused on why his big cousin’s boyfriend thinks he’s so funny.

“Unfortunately, this is a knife. Too heavy and too sharp for you to use.”

David is heavily offended that he is being underestimated. “I can chop! I chop for Mama everyday!”

“David!” He heard said Mama begins to scold him, “Do we raise our voice at guests?” David begins to tear up.

“Not at all, Auntie.” Carmen inserts, David cut off from his whine. “He’s just asking if he can help me cut vegetables. I didn’t know he had experience.”

David’s mother melts immediately and confirms that yes, David does chop carrots and garlic for her. “Oh, He’s very smart! Knows how to hold the knife properly and everything!”

So Carmen lets David help him ‘chop’ keeping a steady hand in his as the little boy is taught new techniques and tricks.

By day’s end, David is smitten with his new weird looking friend and makes it plain by crying when it’s time to part. Sydney is so proud that she lets him parade around as the new favorite cousin.

>> And Sydney meeting a couple other “less-than-woke” Berzattos? Older Italian people setting eyes on their introverted little nephew’s girlfriend?

“Che bellezza!” A drunk uncle of his screams almost immediately before Carmen can get her name out.

“Gambe piuttosto lunghe… You guys will have such cute babies!”

“Oh, mixed babies are the cutest!” Donna throws in.

“Ma…” Carmy warns.

“Oh, you’re so WOKE, Carmen. Chill out! She’s givin’ her a compliment!” His Uncle says before turning back to the game.

“Ya mother’s right, Carmen! See, my sista has the cutest little grandchildren! Remember little Joey, Carmen? He went and found himself a black girl too!”

Carmy: “Okay, Aunt Glo, thank you. Can we move o-“

“And they have just beautiful little caramel children! And their hair! Ugh! Ricci e belli!”

Sydney is just nodding and trying not to laugh at how mortified Carmy is. He looks over to her in apology, but none of these comments are particularly too inappropriate and they mean well.

“But she’s skinny…”

“Skin and bones! Let’s feed her then, come with me, sweetheart!”

Sydney: “O-oh, uh…” but her hand is captured and she’s being led into the kitchen to be fed by hand.

She tosses a help look to Carmy and he shrugs with a small smile.

“Hopefully this’ll make your hips wider… The Berzattos have large heads when they’re babies, unfortunately.”

Carmy: “Ma! Cut the baby talk!”

Fin.

[the-queer-demon]

every so often i hear people talk about the "loud" queer people and how annoying they are and I always think

I think of the first time I saw a trans woman in the aisle of a convenience store. i was 8 years old and had no idea what i was but in that moment i felt like i understood her more than anyone else i'd seen.

i think of the first time i saw two men kiss in a movie. my parents wouldnt let me watch it because it was "inappropriate," but i snuck in anyway and I wondered for the first time if not all boys liked to kiss girls.

i think of the first pride parade i've ever seen. barely aware of who i was and too scared to admit it to myself, i watched thousands of people celebrate their identity, in the face of overwhelming hatred. a drag queen handed me a rainbow sticker from across a police barrier. i think she knew.

i think of when i was 15 and began to change how i presented. i dyed my hair and dressed more androgynously. it was a baby step, and i was terrified of how people would see me. and so many people looked at me differently, but there were kids that looked so familiar, who looked at me and saw a friend.

i think of when i got a roommate for the first time, and tried desperately to pass so i wouldn't make her uncomfortable. she clocked me immediately and asked for my pronouns. she was the first queer person i'd ever dated.

i think of when i was buying soda at a convenience store a few weeks ago. i was so used to dressing gnc that i almost forgot it was strange to most people. i saw a little kid an aisle over, gaping at me. not hatred or ignorance, but curiosity and questioning, and maybe? maybe a little understanding of who i really was.

and i think about all the people that are uncomfortable with these displays, who say it's not right to show in public. and i think that maybe that's the point. because for every 10 people who look at me and see a disgusting tranny, maybe there's one person who feels a little safer. and i think that's worth it in the end

[chelseypprimrose]

The Pre-College Bucket List / negan smith x reader (stepdad/stepdaughter)

Warnings ⚠️ : voyerism (someone asleep in the room), unprotected sex, cum swapping, blowjob, daddy kink, choking

Author’s note: think this might be the longest and dirtiest thing I’ve ever wrote and I had so much fun with this one, hope you enjoy! 🤍🫡 not proof read yet!

“Y/N! Can you chop those vegetables that are on the kitchen counter please?!” You sighed, rolling your eyes. Even in your last days at the family home, she was still expecting you to do mundane tasks. You didn’t even want this going away party she had planned for you, it wasn’t like you were going that far away anyways, only about a hours drive. More so, you knew the only reason your mom was hosting this party, so she could brag to her friends about how you had got into such a prestigious college. That’s all she ever did, never told you how proud she was of you, only ever posting on social media about it for validation from people over the internet. While you had gotten used to it now, it still stung more than you’d ever admit.

Opening the draw and taking the knife out, you started to chop the various vegetables that were in the bowl, daydreaming out the large window that showed the back garden outside. That’s when he came into view, your stepdad Negan. He’d been in your life for around the past two years, off and on again like a cringey sitcom drama. Him and your mother had broken up more times than you could count, always over some petty arguments, more so what teenagers would fall out about, never mind two fully grown adults.

He kept coming back though, each time, for what aspect of your mothers personality you didn’t know, it was no secret he was always in a mood with her, you recalled even once them managing to get into a argument during sex, over what you weren’t sure. It ended with raised voices, the threat of ending the relationship and the slamming of the front door quite dramatically by Negan.

Here he still was though, probably remaining because of your mothers crippling fear of spending her later years alone. You watched as he opened the large black grill, placing the charcoal into the bottom compartment, ready for cooking the various types of meat he’d purchased. His white t-shirt clinging to his toned muscles underneath, those damn red gym shorts he always paraded around in, even when he wasn’t working as the gym coach at your old high school. His hair slicked back with a small amount of gel, salt and pepper beard trimmed and neat as it always was. As bad as your heated thoughts were, you couldn’t help yourself. Boys your age just weren’t as attractive as the older men you’d come across in your life, boring.

Always the same pick up lines, always trying to hard to get into girl’s panties while offering nothing themselves, not even being able to give you the release you needed. Frustrated wasn’t even the word to begin to describe how most of your recent situationships had been.

His dirty mouth as well, always charming and funny, he’d make you laugh at the worst of times, so inappropriate but that’s what you liked about him. You continued on with your chopping, taking small and quick glances at his impressive frame when you could, now firing up the grill, the smoke rising. Looking down at the now finished cucumber, you reached out to grab the next bowl when you saw Negan’s arms reach to the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it off in one motion, his slightly tanned and toned stomach coming into view, your eyes glued to his chest.

“Fuck!” You yelped out, the knife making a small cut on the side of your finger, blood flowing out the wound as you dropped the knife onto the counter. Negan’s head whipped around in your direction, taking large strides through the double doors into the kitchen. “You alright, Y/N?” He asked, placing his calloused hands over yours, slightly pulling you towards the kitchen sink, turning the cold water tap on. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine, I was distracted… wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing.” You slightly laughed, hoping he wouldn’t know the reasoning for your moment of ignorance. “Yeah, I gathered that.” Negan stated, a slight smirk coming across his face as he stared into your eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away, holding his gaze as if it was only you two who knew why. “So many distractions around us in this world, wouldn’t you say?” That knowing smirk still plastered over his features. You nodded, not wanting to further embarrass yourself.

Later on, the party was in the second hour, all your friends and family in attendance, the music playing from the outdoor speakers. Most attendees were standing around, some laying on the sun loungers placed next to the big pool and bar that was next to your house. You had a red cup in hand, with wine spritzer, sipping every couple minutes, you’d had enough food that you were feeling tipsy but not out of control. You’d rather not end up embarrassing yourself at your own leaving party, giving the small town something to gossip about after you’d gone. Having small talk here and there with different people, you could hear your mother still boasting loudly about how easy you’d been accepted into the college to various colleagues you recognised from her work place.

“How are you enjoying your party doll?” Deep voice coming from the side of you, Negan coming into view from the peripheral vision of your eye. You smiled, taking another drink of your wine. “Good thanks, not the sort of party I’m used to. Kind of…” you trailed off. “Boring? Think the word your looking for, is boring.” You laughed, looking up at Negan as he raised his eyebrows comically. “You can’t say that! It’s rude.” Your words coated in sarcasm, even though you a hundred percent agreed with his observation. “I appreciate the effort from you and mom but I didn’t really want the big celebration, I’m not moving country, I’m moving a couple hours away. Not so much of a big deal.” You took a seat on the end of the linen sun-lounger, the grey matching umbrella blocking the sunset from your eyes. Negan followed suit, your knees brushing against each other.

“Yeah, well, I tried to tell her you’d be against the big show but I couldn’t convince her. You know she’ll take any opportunity to shit on what other people are doing.” You nodded along, showing your agreement in his statement. You couldn’t deny he was right, your mother would always have to be one above everyone else, a big pissing contest. You thought it was pathetic, just a fake mask to cover over her crumbling love life and how she hadn’t moved up the career ladder in the past ten years. You vowed to yourself you’d never let your life get that way, hard work and dedication would get you to where you wanted to be. “Anything you want to do before you head off to college doll?” You furrowed your brows at Negan’s question as he took another drink of his beer, you weren’t expecting it as it had nothing to do with your previous topic of discussion.

He noted the confused look on your face as he reached into the pocket of his shorts, pulling out a piece of paper with pink lines and heart boarders. Your eyes widened with shock, it was paper from your notebook. He opened it, the words coming into view. “Quite a extensive list, some really good stuff on here dollface.” He smirked, his eyes raking over your pretty, cursive handwriting. He started to laugh, “I could help you out with some of these you know?” You thought he was joking, looking at his face you knew he was serious. You couldn’t remember what you had written, how could you? You had wrote this list a couple months back when you had first got accepted into college. He winked at you before rising to his feet, walking inside to get another beer. You looked on at the surrounding people, he could help you? What did that even mean?

Later on, people had started saying their goodbyes, voicing their congratulations to you as they headed home. “Thank you for coming! I’ll see you on Monday in the office.” Your mother waved at the last couple to leave before shutting the front door, wine glass still in hand. “Hey, I’m not that tired yet, shall we stick a movie on?” Negan suggested, weird you thought. He was normally the first one to retreat to bed after one of your mums social parties but not feeling fatigued yourself you agreed. “Yeah sure but I’ll probably fall asleep, I’m quite tired.” Your mom stated, accompanied with a yawn. You rolled your eyes, more like she’d had too much wine and couldn’t handle it. You moved to the living room, grabbing the large blanket from the first couch, covering your body.

Your mom took a place on the couch placed on the other side of the room, lying down. Negan walked into the room with a small bowl of popcorn, placing it on the glass coffee table in front of the tv. Sitting next to you, he grabbed the remote, putting on some random chic-flick. You settled down, letting your body sink into the couch. Negan’s arm raised to the back of the couch, his fingertips just slightly touching your shoulder. You kept your eyes trained on the tv, feeling your heart beating at a faster pace than before. He started mindlessly drawing small circles on the top of your skin, you felt your core getting tighter with every small touch. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, trying to calm the wave of lust that was flowing over your body. Negan used his other hand to dig into his pocket, pulling out that list again, re opening it, placing it on his knee. “What about this one doll?” He asked, pointing to one of the lines you’d written.

‘Have sex next to someone asleep, fear of getting caught might make it sexier!’

Oh my god, you thought. You couldn’t even remember writing that one, thinking back to the day you wrote it, might have a couple too many drinks. You locked eyes with him, his signature shit-eating grin on his face. “I…um. I-I don’t remember writing that one.” You trailed off, trying to find any excuse to why you’d write something so taboo. Before you could think, Negan threw the paper onto the coffee table, his strong hands grabbing the bottoms of your thighs, lifting you up onto him, the feeling of his semi-erect cock digging into you. You placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, still in disbelief that this was happening.

“Remember when I said I could help you with this list doll?” He whispered into your ear, your face red with embarrassment. You slowly nodded, giving a small sound of agreement. “Do you want my help?” Negan inquired, his hands grabbing the round globes of your ass, emitting a slight whimper out of you at the rough touch of Negan. “Oh god yes, Negan please.” You softly spoke. “Gonna have to be quiet for me doll, wouldn’t want to get caught now would we?” Breathing heavily, your lips were caught by Negan in a deep kiss, your hands trailing from his shoulders to run through his hair. His hands gave another grab of your ass, more powerful, enough to leave red handprints.

“Shit doll, you don’t understand how long I’ve been waiting for this, you’re pretty ass parading around in this house, I can’t believe I haven’t gone fucking crazy.” He stated against your lips, his teeth coming down softly on your lower lip. You faintly moaned out at his confession, there was always some unspoken tension between you both, you just never thought it would come to this conclusion. You broke away from his kiss, fumbling to pull his shorts down to his ankles, lifting your lower half up to get them down successfully. His now fully erect cock gently slapped against his stomach, your hand coming down to smoothly wrap around the base of his cock, rubbing up and down. Negan let out a soft groan, his head falling back as he leaned into your hand, you made the move to the floor, up on your knees in front of him. “Oh shit honey, fuck, you are a dirty fucking girl.” He whispered out.

Your lips wrapped around his tip, peppering small kisses and kitten licks before you took it fully into your mouth, slowly working the top half of his cock. He opened his legs a little wider, allowing you to work further down as he thrusted his hips a little, causing you to gag ever so slightly. His shaft heavy on your tongue, the salty pre cum dancing on your tastebuds. A small trail of saliva leaking from your mouth, you felt your pussy getting slick with your juices, the ever growing danger of what you were doing turning you on more than you imagined.

A small creak caused your body to stop, a slight spark of adrenaline flowing through. Your mom had slightly moved from her sleeping position, turning to face the back end of the sofa. You waited for what felt like minutes, before you heard small snoring, affirmation to continue your illicit activity. Negan’s hip bucking ever so slightly, making his cock go further down your throat, you released him with a small pop, the gathered salvia making a bridge from his throbbing tip to your lips. Negan pulled you up, placing a sloppy kiss on your neck, regaining your position back on his thighs. “Shit doll, seeing you down there with a mouthful of my cock, fuck.” Negan mumbled against your neck, pulling your dress up and over your head, your arms reaching up to help.

Negan’s lips moved from your neck to the tops of your breasts, placing kisses while roughly grabbing them. The sensation alone causing you to feel tingles running through your body, he expertly unhooked the back of your bra, your breasts now free. He bit at your left nipple, sucking it slowly afterwards, his hands wandering from your breasts to your panties, pulling them to the side, exposing your pussy to the slight cold of the room. Goosebumps trailed down your arms and legs at the new feeling, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit. “You ready doll?” You enthusiastically moaned, grabbing the base of his cock to position it at your opening before slowly moving down, filling you inch by inch. You let out a moan at the fullness you felt, Negan’s hand coming up to grab your throat with slight pressure. “Fuck doll, those pretty noises are going to get us caught. You fit me like a fucking glove, so fucking tight.” Letting out a heavy sigh, Negan started to to move his hips, sliding in and out of you with slow strokes, filling you up even more.

Your hands met his shoulders again to steady yourself, your nails digging into them, a caught breath in your throat as the pressure on your neck got stronger. You met Negan’s thrusts, building in speed, strokes now hard and fast. “Shit baby, how’d you think your mother would feel if she woke up and saw you bouncing on daddy’s dick, huh?” You whimpered, the taboo nature of the whole situation caused you to grip your walls harder around his cock. “She’d be so upset daddy but you feel so fucking good inside me.”

“Damn right I do, doll.” You let out small breathless sighs, “Aw, is it too much for you to handle baby girl? Can’t take daddy’s dick as well as you’d like?” He taunted you as he thrust deeper into you. “No, I can handle it daddy. Fuck, you make me feel so fucking good!” You were getting so close, his cock coming into contact with your cervix it felt like. No one had ever made you feel this way, you thought you had died and gone to heaven. Negan could feel you clenching around his cock, knowing your release was close, he took his hand off your throat and began rubbing small, hard circles on your sensitive clit. You shallowly moaned and whimpered out, chanting daddy softly, your breath getting faster and shorter. “Go on baby, cum all over daddy’s dick.” You let your body go, your orgasm washing over your body, seeing stars behind your eyes. Body going limp, shaking as you rode out your high, the couch underneath you getting soaked with your juices, some coating Negan’s hand that was still playing with your clit.

The feeling of your orgasm caused a domino effect, Negan groaning as he came to climax as well, you felt the hot cum coating your walls, pulling out to finish, the last strips coating your lower abdomen. His fingers entered your mouth, tasting your release on your tongue, reigniting the fire you felt in your stomach.

You copied his motion, swiping the cum that settled on your naval, sucking off your fingers, the salty taste mixing with the aftertaste of yourself. Negan smirked, watching you intensely as your fingers came out of your mouth with a slight pop. A satisfied smile on your face, as you let your body flop down next to him, your mother still in deep sleep on the couch across the room. “Doll, I’m going to fucking miss you being gone, shit! We need to do that again sometime.” You giggled, bringing Negan into a kiss that showed him you felt the exact same.

[eliecasa]

Moody Man Simon Riley LOVES the holidays. I will not accept any arguments as this case is CLOSED!

(ﾉ´ з `)ノ!🎄 I’m feeling festive ¡

• A constant side-eye during turkey day dinner, knowing you’ll make him and everyone else get up and help with the decorations sometime soon.

• Simon complaining about the stench of cinnamon sticking to him for days on end.

* “C'mon Simon, you smell great!” You tease, patting him on the arm. The man merely waved you off and headed to bed with red eyes. “I think I’m allergic to that stuff.” to which you would scoff and reply with “And I’m allergic to washing the dishes, you don’t see me complaining.”

• Your bulky husband hiding upstairs when your nieces and nephews visit; knowing you’ll force him to put on that itchy fake beard as well as the too-squeaky boots that he tried to get rid of.

• Simon randomly deciding to mess with you by pouring a cup of snow on you whilst you were in a trance, watching ‘The Polar Express’.

* “Thats payback for the cinnamon shampoo.”

• Having to keep replacing the tree’s candy canes because of someone being a peppermint addict.

• Simon dying on the inside when carolers show up.

* Looking at you for an escape that you avoid with false claims of checking on a nonexistent baby.

• Having tiny disputes on where to set the tree.

* “Why would you want it directly in front of the window? Blockin’ the sun out,” he reasons, standing in front of the tree as a guard. Your eyes turn to slits. “Because I worked hard to decorate it and the neighborhood should see it.” He’s unconvinced, eyebrows pinching as he stares back at you, but he doesn’t say anything further. He would rather implode than admit that he would maybe enjoy the sight of the winter's first snowfall.

• Simon has a preference for older Christmas movies and says the new ones are all cringeworthy romcoms or too emotional.

• Inappropriate sweaters together <3

* SWEATing his ass off when your parent insists that he takes his coat off for dinner. Maybe stopping by with a reindeer shagging another on his sweater wasn’t the best idea.

• Flirting with him, asking to sit on his lap for a new ‘wish’ every day.

• Simon having at least three different videos of you slipping on ice and busting your ass.

* “Simon~” you whine, eyes getting watery from anger and pain. Your husband would let out a haughty laugh and begin to trek through the snow. “Don’t cry, I’m comin’,” he would tease you until his boots suddenly gave way and threw him face-first into muddy snow.

• Lovey-Dovey cuddle days, holding hands and playing with his ringed hand.

• Taking credit for Simon’s beautiful handwriting on gifts with a massive grin on your face.

• Kissing him when you notice that his lips are chapped.

* He would smirk, looking at you with confused pleasure. “What was that?” to which you would just shrug and coyly look away, paying mind to the Christmas parade. “Thought you looked a little chapped ‘is all.”

- He would SO call you cheeky for that.

• Your husband getting protective when your male coworkers give you gifts that just seem (in his words) ‘Too Thoughtful’

* “Simon, seriously?” you scold, hand on your hip and he seriously pouts on the sofa, “It’s just a cheap perfume.” But those dark and untelling eyes would glance at you before he turned back to the television, grumbling “Bought you that because he wants you to smell nice for him.” He’s such a man-baby during the holidays.

• Simon being passionate about hot cocoa.

* Do NOT make your cocoa with water around him. This man will look at you as if you were drinking a mug of dirt.

• You stuffing him with treats and seasonal recipes as he watches you cook.

* Smiling with a cupcake in hand, you trot over and gently lift his chin, “Mint red velvet with some caramel, trust me.” But he would pause and slowly bring his eyes to the cupcake in horror. You lost him at ‘Mint’. But hubby would never say no to you.

• Making each other search for their hidden gift on Christmas Eve.

* You’d follow Simon to your bedroom, rubbing your hands together like a mouse. You hid his gift in your toiletry drawer. It was the perfect strategy and he would never-

“Is it in there?” he would stand in your shared bathroom, pointing to the only drawer he's never used, his eyes blankly blinking at you. “You cheater!”

• Husband putting his cold hands in the back pockets of your jeans.

• The two of you deciding to pull an all-nighter for Christmas, drinking wines and dining on finger foods until it was time for gift opening.

• Underneath your tree would be LOADED with gifts for each other, more than your friends’ gifts combined.

• Simon giving you that look as you beam at him, holding the very thing he said he wouldn’t buy for you because it was apparently “Too expensive.”

• Smothering him in kisses and thanking him in different ways.

• Watching your husband as he cooly tries on the new clothing and shoes you bought him. He would shrug his new coat on and look at you with a smirk. “Like it?”

- Heart Eyes.

• So many pictures are being printed after New Year's, and most of them are candids of your friends and family, as well as your dearest, Simon Riley.

sneaking back into the writing game👀

[tragedycoded]

What would Hofers reaction be to walking in on them?

You're just getting spammed today, sorry buddy <3

OK so fun fact: I wrote a scene where Hofer walked in on them in Book 2. His response was basically "I do not give a single minted damn what you two were doing in here but for the love of CHRIST would you SHUT THE DOOR NEXT TIME?"

I do not know why I cannot find this scene in the working draft. Past me thought it needed to go.

Sullivan used the phrase "single minted damn" in a scene I wrote yesterday, and I thought that was cute, because he and Hofer do use each others' turns of phrase, but now it's not in the manuscript anymore, so it hasn't been appropriately setup, and I'm rethinking my entire career as a writer based on the fact that I wrote one (1) oblique reference to Hofer walking in on Royston blowing Sullivan that I then deleted.

Anyway.

TLDR: He would swear, lecture Royston on basic human decency and the purpose of firmly shutting a door behind him, and then continue on with whatever he came in there to annoy them about in the first place.

[braxiatel]

I like to think none of my followers would do this, but I’m so stunned it continued to happen that I just have to say it anyway: please don’t ask mcyt creators about fandom drama - especially not when they’re livestreaming.

No, you do not need their opinion on the discourse of the week. It is incredibly inappropriate to bring internal fandom issues to them. They are not part of the fandom, their work is the the subject of it.

For context this was brought on by people repeatedly asking Scar (Goodtimeswithscar) about shipping on stream using the text to speech bot.

If anyone doesn’t understand why it’s bad here are some of the reasons:

You’re approaching someone at their workplace to ask them their opinion on a controversial topic. Would you go up to an employee at a supermarket to ask them their opinion on politics? On official store policy? Would you ask them to announce it over the call system? I sure hope the answer to all of those is a resounding no!

You are asking them to answer a nuanced question they do not have any context for on the spot. Would you like it if anyone did that to you in front of a large crowd? Would you want an answer you made to a question you don’t fully understand recorded and paraded in front of your entire audience?

When they are live the are doing their job as entertainers, providing entertainment. You know those people who heckle comedians who are live in stage? That’s you. That’s what you’re doing and it sucks.

Their career and livelihoods depend on them creating a positive experience for the audience. That means when you pay them to pay attention to your question using the tts bot they have to come up with an answer on the spot that is entertaining and doesn’t leave the audience uncomfortable

If it really does make them uncomfortable and you want to protect them from that… bestie you’re the one putting the uncomfortable information in front of them? You’re the one making them think about it?

Not only is it inappropriate to ask and disrespectful towards your fellow fandom members to put them on blast, you are very unlikely to get a response that actually reflects the creator’s opinions. Very few of them are immersed in the fandom to the point of knowing about the fandom discourse, and if they really are incredibly uncomfortable/angry/upset with something they’re not going to express that fully because that would absolutely suck to watch and alienate their audience.

So just… don’t? You’re just making an ass of yourself and you are heckling creative professionals just trying to do their job

[lilibethwrites]

Growing Pains

Part 2 (of 4): “To Crave What is Given to Another”

Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 (finale)

Silence continues to prove to be Y/N and Aemond’s greatest foe. Like two dragons locked in a dance, the Prince and the Princess dance back and forth around each other with their teeth buried deep in each other’s necks. Although love is patient, fate is not and as the window of opportunity slowly closes, they must overcome their pride and fear to make a move, or risk drifting apart for ever.

 Warnings: vague and brief allusions to NSFW topics.

  A.N: I initially planned weekly updates, and yet the devil works hard but my undying love and thirst for Aemond works harder.

 Word count: 5245

 Several days have gone by without a single word being exchanged between Y/N and Aemond except when the courtly decorum required it. He sat across from her as they broke their fast and dined at evenings as usual, and yet where he would attempt to catch her gaze to speak, as he had once put it, through their eyes, he had turned his chair away from her direction. Where Aegon’s inappropriate remarks or Helaena’s sweet interjections were occasions to pull the corners of his lips upwards and train his gaze on Y/N’s to catch her smiling back, he bowed his head and concentrated on a slice of breakfast pie with a deep frown that aged his handsome features beyond their years.

 The training sessions in the courtyard were even worse. Used to be, Y/N watched from the stone balcony as Aemond trained with Ser Criston Cole, her brothers either watching from the sidelines or joining forces with Ser Criston in hopes of putting a dent in Aemond’s streak of wins. They never managed, and Aemond always reminded Y/N that he attributed it almost as much to her favor as he did it to his impeccable swordsmanship skills. Although he hated tournaments and the false knights parading around pretending to be real warriors, Aemond didn’t turn Y/N down whenever she insisted that he pretend his training was a tournament for a moment, and ask for her favor in the form of a newly made crochet under the guidance of a patient Septa, or a few flowers freshly plucked from the garden and knotted together with a silk ribbon. If he was lucky enough, Y/N would even rise on her toes to press a sweet kiss to his cheek. Once, Aemond would fondly remember, her lips closed around his scarred cheek as part of her favor. He could swear nothing had gone wrong that whole day. He wondered, however, if she wiped her mouth in disgust when he turned his back to duel Ser Criston. How could he know that Y/N ran her fingertips across her lips the entire practice, praying to Gods to never allow her mind to forget what it felt like to feel the scar she so loved to feel on her fingertips on her lips as well.

 Now, Aemond trained with more rigor and fury and with fewer breaks in between. He stomped to the castle yard for his tutelage right after breakfast, and never once looked up. Even when Y/N attempted to cheer his victories, he kept his head bowed and away from her balcony.

 Y/N always cherished the servants as her friends, much to her mother’s dismay. So it infuriated Rhaenyra when the word reached her ears that Y/N helped the girls serve honeyed wine and sweetcakes to the boys as they took a moment from their sword practice. “You wish to be a cupbearer so much, we must send you off to the Hightowers as a squire in a boy’s disguise,” she would reprimand Y/N later. It was a desperate attempt to exchange a few words with Aemond, but instead, he’d carefully retreated to a far corner of the yard with Ser Criston, engaged in a heated discussion with his tutor.

 It was unlike Y/N to give up the chase, so she settled with a heavy tome on her lap, left unattended, of course, as she watched Aemond spar—and noticed just how difficult it was to restrain herself from jumping up from the seat and clap each time Aemond disarmed Ser Criston and held his blade mere inches away from his neck or heart.

 Meanwhile, her handmaiden echoed the gossip Y/N had already heard in pieces but paid very little attention to. Prince Aemond took after a certain Rogue Prince and suddenly started to frequent the Flea Bottom and just as suddenly became a valued patron of a few brothels along the Street of Silk.

 “It is unlike him to do so, Camylle,” Y/N protested.

 “My lady, everyone says it so—”

 “Besides, why would you bring it to my attention? I won’t indulge baseless gossip. It doesn’t concern me.” Though it did concern Y/N plenty that Aemond suddenly grew leagues apart from her and chose to spend his evening with whores instead of stealing her away to idle under the weirwood tree until their eyes could remain barely open. It also forced her mind to conjure up images that both embarrassed and intrigued her. A princess had very little to be jealous of a common whore, but still, some things remained as objects of her envy and desire, it seemed.

 “Forgive me for my insolence, my lady, but some say that, well, as I said, forgive my insolence—”

 “Spit it out, would you?” Y/N pressed the book close with all the fury she’d redirected from the girl stalling.

 “They say that the girls the Prince lay with—he calls them, well, by your name. He is quite brutish and scary, too, if they… well,” the poor servant was trembling now, and Y/N’s eyes threatened to roll out of their sockets.

 “Well, they say that he is rather displeased when the girls are not behaved… like you. I swear this is no slander, my lady. The squires have overheard it from the Hand and Spymaster.”

 Camylle didn’t need to swear on the Gods—Y/N believed her. The two girls grew up together, and she became Y/N’s most trusted confidante over the years. Yet, she found what the girl had just relayed outlandish—impossible. Aemond, at brothels, with girls who resembled herself and called them by her name? But why? The way she perceived, for all those years, Aemond never showed interest in Y/N in a way that suggested anything beyond a friendly bond. Perhaps a drunken worm misheard the name as her own and Otto Hightower jumped to a conclusion—now that wasn’t unlike him to do so. And even worse, if everyone knew, then Aemond knew how far and wide the word had travelled already as well.

 “Have you got any sweetcakes left?” Y/N spoke up without averting her eyes from Ser Criston and Aemond clashing their blades.

 The servant girl held the silver tray out in confusion, and didn’t speak again until Y/N dismissed her after the morning practice was over. With the sweetcake with the sugared lemon slice on top, the kind Aemond liked the best, secured on her open palm, Y/N followed the Prince to the armory where he was taking off his chest armor.

 Y/N took a moment to take his figure in, and to calm her heart beating rapidly against her chest. Aemond’s hair was turning curly where it was drenched in sweat, and a handful of strands stuck to his sweaty neck as he unbuckled the heavy armor, seemingly unaware of his quiet spectator.

 A cough to clear Y/N’s throat made him turn in an instant, a slight look of surprise in his eye.

 “You—ahem, you haven’t had a drop of sweetwine nor a piece of sweetcake all morning. Here, I brought you one.”

 Aemond’s sword hand almost reached to embrace Y/N’s smaller one to take the pastry, but hesitation seemingly got the better of him, as his hand instead moved up to loosen the laces of his coat.

 “Thank you, but I have lost my appetite.”

 “Oh? Not coming down with the fever, are you?”

 It was silly, really. Y/N set the cake down on a nearby table and reached for Aemond’s sweaty forehead without a thought. It felt natural to check on him as she has always done, and she didn’t think much of it until the taller Prince went stiff under her touch. So, she pulled her hand back as if it was burnt on a fireplace, though their bodies remained close.

 “Well, you seem to be—”

 “I have something to tell you,” Aemond spoke matter-of-factly. If Y/N knew him any less, she could’ve mistaken his tone for being curt. But he sounded dispirited. Was it about the ugly slander that seemingly kept the mouth of every young maiden busy around the Red Keep? Was he going to own up to it? Denounce it?

 Aemond took a deep breath that swelled his already broad chest up. “I am to fly to Storm’s End tomorrow. I hope to make it back for Aegon’s wedding.”

 “Oh.” Oh, indeed. Was Y/N disappointed that Aemond didn’t abruptly confess to having improper thoughts about her? That he reciprocated feelings that even Y/N herself couldn’t quite understand, let alone confess to.

 “That is unexpected. May I come with?”

 “No,” Aemond responded coldly. He turned his back to undo the rest of his armor.

 “May I ask why?”

  “You may not.” Now, he spoke curtly.

 “Then tell me why you must leave so suddenly, and for so long, too.”

 Aemond turned around once again and spoke with nothing but chilling cold in his voice and without the tender, comforting look in his eye that Y/N came to crave, and perhaps had taken for granted.

 “Instead you tell me why you must stand here all day interrogating me when you must have more pressing, better matters to attend to—like courting a legion of lords and knights petitioning for your hand.” Aemond all but spat the words out with very little hesitation or thought, as if he had pondered on them for days and prepared a speech in his mind. It took Y/N by surprise, naturally, and by the time his words registered enough for her to formulate a response—Aemond dealt his deadly blow.

 “If you must know so, I am to marry one of the Baratheon girls. The Hand has been asking me time and again to choose one as my betrothed, and last week I said I would.”

 And with that, a sword buried itself deep inside her heart and twisted to draw out even more blood; Aemond walked past Y/N and out of the armory. His eye, like Y/N’s own, was glassy with welled-up tears of anger, frustration and heartbreak.

 Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not prideful to a fault, and Y/N Velaryon was nothing if not a stubborn, silly fool. So, neither did Aemond turn heel and rush back to the armory to speak what he sincerely felt, and fantasized in his chambers about saying, nor did Y/N chase after Aemond to confess what little she could make sense of her feelings she’s harbored ever since she knew him. Perhaps, Gods didn’t will it so, and it was for the best that they would drift apart the way they did. Perhaps a Lannister husband wasn’t the end of the world and the bane of her happiness, after all.

 But perhaps a Lannister husband was exactly that. The days of Aemond’s absence took a toll on Y/N rather quickly. She found herself unwilling to get out of bed and she ate very little. Who would have known that the real charm of the breakfast tables wasn’t the delicious cakes and pies and hot drinks? The days went by dreadfully slow, starting and ending with an empty chair where Aemond used to sit, and with the memories of all the sweet moments they have shared keeping her awake at night when the candles were put out.

 The noble maidens Y/N shared lessons from the Septa with speculated that perhaps Aemond was exiled for his indiscretion, and one or two were, supposedly, even brave enough to gossip behind Y/N’s back that the Prince and Y/N were caught in an indecent manner, that she was given moon tea, and that was why he took off hurriedly, chased off by her step-father, Prince Daemon himself.

 “I wish it were so,” Y/N wanted to say. It would’ve been easier that way. It would’ve meant she’d finally garnered the courage to confess to her true feelings, and that Aemond somehow, miraculously reciprocated. And if they were caught locked in a passionate embrace, so be it. They would mount their dragons, leave all the nonsense of the court and the throne behind and fly away to somewhere warmer and with less rain and mud.

 Y/N was the most nervous of all as the date of Aegon’s wedding approached. Would Aemond make it back in time as he said he would try? Would he have his betrothed on Vhagar, behind his back? Would they marry so soon after Aegon? Why were the Gods so cruel as to push them so far apart when the next wedding instead could very well have been theirs?

 The day of the wedding eventually arrived, but Aemond didn’t. Y/N felt lonelier than ever as the lords and ladies flooded the Red Keep, walking arms in arms, dancing and laughing. The celebrations started early, way before the sun had set. Y/N, despite her companion, the young and arrogant Lannister lord’s pleas to dance with him and to walk with him and to have a slice of pie with him, seated herself across from the weirwood tree that she once sat under frequently with Aemond.

 “I don’t see what is so fascinating about that tree that you must watch it for hours!” He finally protested, but received no answer from Y/N except for a dismissive grunt.

 “How dare they,” she was busy thinking to himself. “How dare they sit under our tree where we once talked and laughed and dreamed.”

 The servants’ announcement took Y/N out of her trance. The weather was turning bad and the guests were encouraged to take the celebration inside the Red Keep earlier. The blue sky was indeed a darker shade now, the sun nowhere to be seen. So Y/N stood up languidly. The velvet gown sewn just for this occasion was quite heavy as it was, she didn’t mind if it soaked up all the downpour and cemented her to the garden. She would make a rather sad, rotting, fleshy statue for Aemond’s wedding ceremony. People would come to watch her, and she would serve as a cautionary tale against being so folly as to fall in love with a cruel Prince.

 Soon after, however, it was understood that the weather was fine all along. It was Vhagar that eclipsed the clouds and the rays of sunshine behind her enormous wings, and her landing—which shook the Red Keep from its foundation to the heavy roof and gave the inexperienced guest a proper scare—revealed the golden hue of the setting sun.

 A strange, warm ache took over Y/N’s body completely at the announcement. The Hand rose from his seat next to King Viserys as he was to welcome the Prince, and the Prince would join the celebrations in no time. He would no doubt walk in with a Baratheon girl in his arm, his wife-to-be! The thought disgusted the Princess so much so that (and almost as much as the Lannister lord), her own date asked if she had a case of bad stomach and needed to be excused for a moment.

 “No,” Y/N said simply, her eyes now trained on the heavy doors that were shut behind Otto Hightower.

 “It must be the wine. Surely. As I said, we Lannisters at Casterly Rock harvest the best grapes and plums in all of Westeros and naturally, they age into the tastiest wines. They are very expensive, granted, but they are not for the poor and of the low-born, anyway.”

 “Uh uh. Charming,” Y/N muttered, not a single word of the finest fruits which made the finest wines heard on her part.

 The doors creaked open, and the arrival of the Hand and the Prince were announced. For days, Y/N dreamed of the moment Aemond would descend from Vhagar, and she dreamed of how she would be the first to welcome him, to embrace him, damn the consequences! Instead, her heart ceased to pump blood, and her stomach twisted and dropped like a goat served to the dragons in the Pit. In a moment of panic, she turned to her date and suitor and all but demanded that he danced with her. She couldn’t bear watching Aemond walk in with a girl in his arm—she would look smug and proud, too. Of course she would. Who earned the right to boast more than the maiden chosen by none other than Prince Aemond?

 The dance and the feast didn’t stop for Aemond’s arrival, as Y/N assumed he had wanted. He was never one for the theatrics of the throne, and Aegon was too busy sulking and wallowing in self-pity to celebrate the return of his younger brother, either.

 So Y/N danced, out of rhythm, without much grace or coordination, and with eyes stinging with tears held back. She wasn’t even sure if the musicians still played, and she paid very little mind to who she was dancing with each time the partners switched back and forth. Was she beautiful, the Baratheon girl? Was she shorter or taller than Y/N? Surely, she couldn’t be a dragon rider? But what good would that do when her husband-to-be had claimed the fiercest dragon in all of Westeros? Did she make up for what she lacked in a dragon by being sweeter and more ladylike? Maybe her hips were larger, too. She’s heard from the Septas that it was important that a lady had large hips, which meant safer childbirths… or something like that. No matter, what was done was done. She could learn to warm up to the Lannister lord. Her mother was right, it could’ve been worse.

 “O—of course. Yes, my—” Y/N’s suitor spoke, no, stuttered. Did she say any of her thoughts out loud? She would have to apologize as they turned to face each other and link arms again as the dance went on. Instead of the sour face of her Lannister husband-to-be, however, stood in front of the Princess none other than Prince Aemond with his arm held out for her to take, and a lopsided smile on his face.

 “A-aemond?!”

 “Y/N,” He nodded, taking her hand to wrap her velvet-clad arm around his, dancing to the lively music as the rest of the guests also did.

 “You—” The excitement and surprise paralyzed Y/N’s thoughts, a snarky remark about how his new lady-wife-to-be might be jealous didn’t come to her. Besides, maybe if Y/N refused to acknowledge her, she might disappear like a dreadful nightmare at the first lights of the dawn. “You’re back,” Y/N said instead in sincere happiness.

 “Yes. I wouldn’t miss… this.”

 Oh, how she missed the cynical, stoic side of him that mocked the ridiculous pretences of the court; she often told him that only his disdain made such events bearable for Y/N. Well, his disdain and himself.

 “Of course. Who wouldn’t love… this?” Y/N echoed his mocking tone, to which Aemond gave a smile as they took two steps forward and one backward, switching arms and leaning closer to one another.

 “You must. By the looks of things, yours is next.”

 The nerve of him! As they both stepped away from each other to exchange partners for a few steps, Y/N simmered in anger. Last she remembered, it was he who got on his dragon and brought a wife back in such a hurry.

 “Mine?!” she whisper-shouted as they reunited in the dance. “You must forget your own lady wife-to-be. Besides—where is she? Shouldn’t you be dancing with her ins—”

 “There isn’t one,” unbeknownst to Y/N, he Aemond only grabbed a cup of wine as the servant passed to stop himself from speaking more, to stop the words from escaping his mouth that there wouldn’t be one unless Y/N herself had changed her mind on marriage, and perhaps about him, too. Though Aemond was convinced all seven Gods had to come together to create a miracle big enough to have Y/N regard him as anything other than an ugly, short-tempered brute.

 There wasn’t one? There wasn’t one! Y/N put all her restored happiness into her next spin. Though it was rather short-lived. Surely, it must be because he didn’t find the girls suitable, or another, more profitable arrangement came up. One way or the other, he would marry soon. Why would he suddenly agree to a marriage in the first place otherwise?

 “But, why?”

 Aemond only shrugged. They were beautiful, but not as beautiful as Y/N. They were smart, but not as smart as Y/N. They just were not her. The Hand almost had a heart attack when Aemond unmounted Vhagar without a wife; and Aemond assured—or rather, silenced him that if he so wanted the Storm’s End for the crown, he’d fly back and conquer it with his dragon and steel, but he wouldn’t marry those ‘bitches’, as he rather lovingly referred to them. His mind was made up on the matter.

 Before Y/N could inquire further, the music concluded and a thunderous collective of applause came from the dancing lords and ladies, who now either slowly retreated to their seats at the feast tables or stood around chatting. Aemond bowed his head to Y/N’s curtsy and turned around to make for the tables without another word—as if he had not just landed after days of being gone and broke the news that brought back to life Y/N’s dead and withering heart.

 “Wait,” she reached for his arm, and he stopped in his tracks. Well, it would have been silly to let him disappear into the crowd of guests, but Y/N’s mind was too overwhelmed to come up with something to say, so she stood, fidgeting and playing with the silk ribbons hanging from her sleeves.

 “I’m… very happy that you returned safely.” And without a girl in your arm.

 “Thank you,” he smiled, as though he did not want to disappear into the crowd either, but struggled to come up with an excuse to keep the conversation alive. It was funny how once they could sit and chat from sunrise to sundown, lamenting that the days weren’t long enough to put a dent in all the things they wanted to say to one another. And yet, here they were now, desperate for something to say so they could remain in each other’s company for just a turn of the hourglass longer. Well, Y/N had several words to speak, but they were better left unspoken. Tragically, Aemond lamented the very same at that very same moment.

 “I should return you to your escort,” he spoke dejectedly. He knew a defeat when he suffered one.

 “No, please don’t. Aemond, I can’t stand him. He’s insufferable. I would very much like to strangle him in his sleep, actually.”

 Aemond’s face lit up, and he drained his fresh cup in delight. “I could do it for you right now.”

 “You would? I would pay you a golden dragon—no, two golden dragons.”

 “Which one was he again?” He pretended to look around the crowd to find the Lannister lord with a mischievous smile. “I can’t tell, they all look the same.”  

 He must have cut a particularly intimidating figure, even across from the throne room without a word spoken, as the poor Lannister boy hurried away from where Aemond and Y/N stood like a horse from a dragon. A brief moment of silence was followed by hearty laughter from both the Prince and the Princess. They both held each other and laughed, laughed until Y/N had to wipe the tears from her eyes and Aemond had to hide his lips, twitched and curled up, behind his hand. They both realized in silent coordination that they had missed this.

 Aemond cleared his throat to stifle his laughter, which still somehow found a way to slip through his parted lips like melted snow under the castle windows. He was handsome like this, nothing like his usual, threatening self. Instead, he was like the sweeter, gentler boy he once was. Life certainly would’ve been better if they could have remained like that, under the weirwood tree with his head on Y/N’s lap, likening clouds to sheep and the old Septa’s breasts.

 “I’ve had my fill of this ceremony,” Aemond bent to whisper in Y/N’s ear, his spicy perfume mixed in with the reek of dragons and the smell of honeyed wine.

 “Already? But you’ve just arrived.” Y/N hoped the disappointment Aemond’s words brought to her didn’t bleed into hers. She had hoped he would spend the rest of the evening with her.

 Aemond shrugged once again, reaching for a bottle that was just served to a noble family. Though, of course, when the patriarch looked up to reprimand the wine thief, he found it to be Prince Aemond, and his life for a bottle of wine didn’t seem like a fair barter.

 “Are you not coming?” He turned back to Y/N standing where Aemond had left her, sulking. “I don’t have a partner, and yours seems to have run off all the way back to Casterly Rock on foot. That makes you, dear Y/N, mine.”

 Aemond seemed to be in good spirits then. Y/N chalked it up to wine, she wouldn’t indulge in false hopes that would leave her upset and heartbroken. The idea that she would be his, not until the haze of the wine has faded, or the evening’s celebrations have come to an end, but for all their lives, was a dangerous poison. If Y/N allowed it to course through her veins, she couldn’t recover from the heartbreak that the Prince was sure to bring down upon her.

 “I will gladly play the part of your prisoner, my Prince,” she beamed up nevertheless, and with the fire that Aemond’s smile ignited in her, she grabbed a bottle of wine from one of the tables as well, and gave her arm to Aemond.

 Several guests were staring at them, some hiding their disapproving murmurs and gossip behind their jewelled hands, and some looking at their partners as if to say they had told them so: Look, they ARE in love. He must be bedding her, no doubt.

 “They are staring,” Y/N whispered.

 “Don’t they always do?”

 It was endearing how little he cared about others’ opinions, yet sometimes, especially when their reputations and virtues were at stake, it could be frustrating. Y/N nudged him, trying to separate her body from his in an attempt to stifle the gossip as they tore through the crowd. Aemond, however, tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her petite frame even closer, flush to his taller one.

 “Who’s staring?” He raised his voice booming with the untamed fury he came to be known for. He turned his attention from Y/N to stare down at the guests who quickly averted their eyes and busied themselves with the tapestries hanging from the walls or the freshly served food. “Point them out and I will have their eyes.”

 The sudden change back to his savagely frightening disposition could’ve taken anyone else by surprise, but not Y/N. Ever since they were kids, even before he had claimed Vhagar, Aemond always reserved a side of fierce wrath for anyone brave or stupid enough to bother Y/N. Knowing Aemond never made empty threats, and he was more than capable of unleashing great cruelty against his enemies, it would’ve terrified any other girl, and it should’ve terrified Y/N as well. Instead, it filled her with a warm wave of pleasure and pride from head to toe. She stood a little straighter, a little taller, held her head high and looked the lords and ladies in the eyes as they walked past them.

 “Well, that was a proper spectacle from a Prince who claims strong dislike for them,” Y/N teased Aemond once the commotion of the ceremony was left behind them. As they walked aimlessly, now hand in hand, their feet brought them to the weirwood tree.

 “You would draw blood at your brother’s wedding?” For me?

 “It would’ve cheered up the poor man. Have you seen his face? He might as well be walking to his execution after this.”

 It was a rare occasion for Y/N to sympathise with Aegon. Yet she imaged herself in his stead, forced into a marriage when her heart and mind laid elsewhere.

 Aemond plopped himself down at the weirwood’s roots unceremoniously, pulling Y/N down with him as he held her hand in his still.

 The night had fallen like a heavy, starry blanket that swallowed up the sun. He looked up at the sky, his face impossible to read as he took a sip from the bottle and held it out for Y/N. Though she had snatched a bottle of her own, it was sweeter to drink from where Aemond’s lips had just been. Perhaps that was the closest she could ever get to them in her lifetime.

 “You are awfully quiet. What is on your mind?” Y/N nudged him playfully. Aemond inhaled deeply once more before his head lulled to the side, to stare into Y/N’s eyes. How could the Princess know that he could never be honest? “You, us,” he fancied admitting, but he guessed she would rise to her feet swiftly, and denounce him as a pervert for having such improper thoughts. Besides, what would a beautiful lady, whether she liked the designation or not, ever want with a man like him?

 So, Aemond only bit his lip for a moment and reached for the bottle nursed in Y/N’s velvet lap. He wrapped his big, calloused hand over her soft one and allowed himself to enjoy the sensation for a moment. He’d think back on this night as his sole source of comfort once she inevitably married that Lannister and slipped away from his fingers.

 “I would have done it for free,” he murmured, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

 Y/N only looked at him, smiling, but puzzled.

 “The ratcatcher. The Lannister cat. I’d have strangled him for you, for free.”

 “Aemond,” Y/N chuckled, slapping his shoulder playfully. “He’s not a cat. He’s a lion. At least, supposed to be.”

 “Is he? Could have fooled me. Either way, a lion is only good for feeding a dragon.”

 Surely, Prince Aemond wasn’t jealous of a pompous Lannister lord, and not on Y/N’s account. She could swear he saw her nothing more than as a friend, and she insisted on it so each time her handmaiden and confidante raised the question of Aemond’s true feelings for her. His special treatment of her, the Princess argued, was only because he was a kind gentleman of the proper ilk, nothing more. Aemond had nothing to be jealous of, well, anyone. He could have it all—the same could almost be said for the Princess, except for the one thing she has wanted the most. Yes, the Maester of history should mark her down on the family tree as “The Princess Who Almost Had It All”.

 “Don’t be so cruel,” Y/N said despite her amusement at Aemond’s remark.

 She laid her head on his shoulder, like the good times of the past. Aemond was quick to rest his chin atop her tight braids, inhaling the soap mixed with scented oils, the scent that visited his senses when he found himself alone and his hand idly travelling down the waistband of his breeches. He knew he should have pulled away, it only served to test his resolve, which, he feared, was already at an end. It was like gazing at a pie you were forbidden from tasting, the more you indulged your eyes, the more your stomach grumbled for it. Yet, that night, under the bleeding eyes of the godstree, he gave in.

Tag list (let me know if you'd like to be added to it): 

@cl-0-vr 

@icarusignite​

@fairaardirascenarios​

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[ericsprincess]

i can't stop for you and me

nc-17, Sung Hanbin/Reader, office au, lawyer!reader, also bully!reader (kinda), doormat!Hanbin, cunnilingus

~~~

A/N: Reparations ;) This is a gift for a friend. I'm not a ZB1 fan and I don't know them well, so I hope it’s at least a little bit of a fitting scenario for Hanbin.

~~~

Fucking CUTE. You think while spinning your pen between your fingers. You’re sitting behind your big wooden desk, peeking over the dossier that you’ve been pretending to read for the past 15 minutes, your eyes scanning through the office in front of you, until they find your favorite target - your new pretty assistant, Hanbin. 

To be honest, he’s not even doing anything particularly cute, he’s quite literally just doing his job, staring into a computer screen and typing occasionally. He’s that pretty and adorable just by existing, with his delicate porcelain doll face and black hair.

I should have hired that old lady, you lament, but you know it’s bullshit. You knew you’re gonna give him a job offer the moment he walked into the meeting room for his interview, all fresh from school and excited to start his career. He looked so proper and polite, thoughtfully answering every question, even daring to blush and sweat under your scrutiny. You took one brief look at his CV to check if he’s qualified enough, and he was. There might have been better, more experienced candidates, but you decided to do this thing for you, just this once. Treat yourself. 

And now it’s coming back at you in full force. 

This is not good. This is a problem. His presence makes you feel things and all of them are inappropriate at the very least. 

It’s not helping that he would obviously bend over backwards to make you happy. You don’t even need to finish the question and he’s already eagerly rushing to complete whatever unnecessary task you made up this time. No request is dumb enough for him to object, and you actually tried. He would just happily go about his way to fulfill it. You could send him to sort cases by alphabetical order backwards and he would just ask when it’s supposed to be done. Sometimes you like to ruffle his feathers a little more by giving him work that he’s clearly not ready for, like that one time where you made him give a presentation to your client instead of yourself. You actually thought he’s going to faint, but somehow he powered through it just by sheer determination, earning an approving smile and nod from you, going all red in reply. 

Not to say that thanks to his good looks he solved your perpetual problem of missing partner at every work function and dumb dinner party with clients. Now you get to drag your handsome assistant along as your plus one to every event, where you can not only parade him around, but also enjoy him fussing over your comfort, bringing you drinks, holding your coat or bag and even driving you home. You can see the jealousy in others and it makes you secretly happy. 

You wouldn’t be able to do that, if you hired that old lady. 

And even today, despite being already long past his shift, he still decided to stay working late, just because you did. The office is already empty and dark, the only sole source of light shining on his face is his computer screen in his cubicle and the light coming out of your glass walled office. 

He rubs his eyes. 

You slap the dossier down on your desk.

“Hanbin-sshi, can you please come here for a second?” you call out. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he immediately replies and gets up. He’s sluggish and obviously tired and you almost feel bad for him. Almost. 

“Can I help you with anything?” he asks. 

“Yes. I would like you to run to the Starbucks, I want some coffee. I’d like a venti pumpkin spice latte-” you pause, seeing as he’s struggling to fish out his phone to take notes. “with four shots of espresso, almond milk, light caramel drizzle, light foam, one pump of pumpkin sauce, one pump of maple pecan sauce and salt topping. Thank you.” you smirk at him as he’s dutifully tapping everything down. 

“No problem, I’ll be right back, ma’am,” he bows a little and rushes out of the door. 

Your stomach rumbles. Actually. 

“Actually!” you call out, but he doesn’t reply. You jump out from behind your table in hope of maybe being able to catch him, but when you run out of the office you can see he’s already left.

Oh well. Maybe I’ll just send him for the second time, when he gets back. 

You turn back to return to your office, when his computer pings with a message. 

Huh? He didn’t lock his computer? 

You take a look, and really - he didn’t. He must have forgotten or just didn’t care, since no one else is left at the office at this time.

Moreover, the message is not from your designated work chat app, but from a personal one. You lean forwards to take a look at the unread notification. 

matt says: so how’s the late hours with the sexy boss going? dude you’re a masochist. 

You blink. Without any hesitation you click on the chat and scroll through the last messages. 

hb says: fuck it's getting really hard to hide my boners from her

>every time she orders me around i can barely think

>i just go home and jerk off everyday thinking about her bossing me around

>if she ever finds out im screwed

>i literally stayed working late, just in case she wants something

>she could ask me to eat her pussy under her desk and i would just crawl under 

>matt i’m so fucked

Your reflection on the computer screen twists into a wide grin. Oh. What a beautiful bunch of revelations. 

You had a hunch that he must like taking orders and feeling accomplished by completing tasks, but you didn’t know it’s sexual for him. Much less, that it’s because of you, in particular. But hey, at least it validates your own interests in this little game. 

You do your best to curb your giddiness and return back behind your desk. Hanbin appears a few minutes later, with your coffee in hand and a little bag in another. 

“Here, ma’am. I also took the liberty to bring you some snack, since it’s really late and you must be hungry.” he hands you both. 

You open the little back and pull out a blueberry muffin. “Thank you, Hanbin-sshi,” you take a bite. “It’s like you’re reading my mind. I hope I’m not putting you through too much trouble.” 

“Oh, no, really, it’s not a problem,” he’s quick to assure you, shaking his head. 

“Hanbin-sshi, it’s such a joy to have you. You’re always so eager and helpful, I could not pick a better assistant,” you smile kindly at him. 

“T-thanks, ma’am, this really means a lot to me.” he stutters, cheeks already burning red. 

“Sometimes it feels like I could ask you to eat my pussy under my desk, and you would just crawl right under, wouldn’t you?” you ask with a smirk.

He freezes. Gotcha.

“I-..”

“You?”

“I- I actually, I would,” he admits. He looks nervous, like he's sure he’s busted, outed as a pervert and will be fired immediately. It looks good on him.

“Okay,” you nod and push yourself off your desk on your chair. You gesture at the space. “Be my guest.”

He looks at you disbelievingly, as if he’s not sure if you’re serious or if it’s just some kind of a prank. But eventually, he seems to make up his mind. 

He slowly falls on his knees. He looks at you, as if to check whether it is really something you want, and when he sees you’re not putting a stop to it, he slowly crawls on his all fours under your big desk. 

You roll your chair back to its place. You look down, where two big eyes are staring right back at you. 

“I hope it were not just empty words, Hanbin-sshi. I’m sure you don’t want to disappoint me,” you warn him. 

“No, of course not, ma’am,” he hurries to assure you and visibly gathers all the courage to actually touch you. He runs his hands over your legs and leans forwards. 

He starts kissing your thighs, while bunching your skirt up, even daring to suck and lick a little at your skin. He slowly gets to your pussy and he doesn’t hesitate to lick over your panties, already wet ever since you discovered his true feelings. It’s like he’s trying to get as much of your taste as he can through them, licking until they are completely drenched with both your juices and his saliva. He’s kneeling in front of you, holding you around your hips, his whole face buried in your crotch, like he doesn't care if he can even breathe. 

It feels good and you’re getting more and more aroused, but you can’t wait for a more direct stimulation. You grab him by his hair and pull him off you by force. You quickly lift yourself up to pull down your panties, and he frantically helps, even tries to dive back in, but your hold won’t let him. 

You look into his eyes and wait a second until he calms down a bit, while he whimpers. He’s all red and clearly aroused and he looks so pretty, you’re sure you will never forget this sight of his delicate face, eager to pleasure you. 

“Now you can,” you say and let go of his hair. He doesn’t hesitate a moment and quickly leans forwards to get back your pussy. 

It feels like his tongue is everywhere. He’s licking all over your pussy and trying to push his tongue in. You have half a mind to tell him to use his fingers, but his tongue already feels so good, you want to see if he will manage to make you cum only like that. 

And it seems he will, since when he moves to your clit, it’s basically game over for you. 

He’s clearly bringing out his A-game, rubbing all over your clit with flat tongue in cruel tempo, building up your pleasure, until he can tell you’re getting close, then switching to quicker flicks, his mouth sealed around your pussy as if he was making out with it. 

You’re getting close and you know he can tell, just by the sounds you’re making. You’re so wet it must be dripping off his face. He’s tireless, his tongue never stopping, he’s even moaning a little, as if it was him being pleasured.

You grab him by his hair and push him even closer and then you’re cumming, smothering him with your pussy and juices and not letting him breathe at all, not until you’re finished. He’s not fighting it, letting you ride his face as much as you need, slowly coming down from your orgasm. 

You let him go, and he takes a deep breath. He looks up at you.

You roll your chair back a little. You take a moment to enjoy the look at him all out of his mind, kneeling under your desk, red, sweaty and disheveled. He’s breathing heavily, aroused and undeniably close to orgasm, without even touching himself.  

“Are you hard, Hanbin-sshi?” you ask. 

It’s a stupid question, his cock is obviously tenting his pants, even leaving a dark wet spot on them. But he nods regardless, eyes glazed over, face still wet. His black hair is sticking to his face a little.

“If you manage to drive us to my apartment without either crashing or cumming, I’ll suck you off. What do you think about that?”

You can see his breath hitching. He doesn’t even need to answer. 

“Go get your coat.”

[offside-the-lines]

Am I Ready (To Be Loved) | Nathan MacKinnon

Summary: Nate is not known to be impulsive, especially when it comes to love. So what happens when he gets a crazy idea while hungover the day after the Avalanche Stanley Cup parade. a/n: Happy Holidays folks! My first fic back (on this new blog) is a reworking of a fic I wrote for my Winter Prompt request last year (for @fallinallincurls). Thought I needed to start somewhere. This is obviously set in 2022 because I can't stand the idea of the avs squad being different. It also features some of our fave tropes. Pairing: Nathan McKinnon x Female!OC Words: 8K Warnings: alcohol Requests: Open | Masterlist

Charlotte hated these fancy functions. The schmoozing and the small talk were things that made her feel like she was going to crawl out of her skin. No matter how much she would normally enjoy conversation, this just felt fake. And she knew how ridiculous it was. She worked in media. She was always in front of cameras. She took this job knowing this was a requirement. It doesn’t change the truth that, at her core, she would rather be on the couch watching some TV show on Netflix.

Although this wasn’t the first formal event she’d ever been to, this was the first Colorado Avalanche donors’ function. It didn’t help that she had only been working as a correspondent for Altitude TV for a few months; so many knew her name and her face, but no one really knew her personally. So, it was just smile, small talk, comment on the Avs, rinse and repeat.

After an hour or so of this, she was feeling done. Heading to the bar for a drink and found a cocktail table in the corner of the room, tucked near the obscenely large Christmas Tree, where she could just stand and watch. Charlotte looked around the room and wondered how long she had to stay before it was not inappropriate to leave.

“Hate these parties too, eh?” a familiar voice rang beside her.

Despite her shattered solitude, the voice brought out a smile on her face. “What do you mean? I don’t hate this?” she replied, not putting in much effort to hide the sarcasm in her voice. She turned to face the voice and the sight almost startled her a little as she felt her face warm. There stood Nathan Mackinnon in his perfectly tailored navy suit, eyes shining in the dim lighting. She takes a drink quickly to distract herself, reminding herself to be a professional.

“Sure,” he chuckled, “hiding in a dark corner isn’t avoiding the party, Charlotte.”

She shrugs as she turns her eyes back to the party.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers in her ear, making her neck tingle a little, “I really don’t like these parties either. I would rather be at home on the couch with my dog watching TV.”

As he leaned back to sip his drink, she turned to him in surprise. “Oh yeah? Like what? More hockey tape?”

After a bit of light banter, they find that they have the same favorite show, much to Charlotte’s surprise. In the dim corner of a fancy event, they are quoting their favorite lines to each other, trying their hardest not to burst out laughing, hiding themselves behind their drinks so as to not draw too much attention at such a fancy event. Charlotte’s laughing so hard she snorts a little, causing Nate to look at her in surprise before continuing to laugh even harder, drawing some looks from the donors and teammates closest to them. After a while, when they both finally calm down, she feels herself relax a little.

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few more moments before Nate spoke up again. “You know, Charlotte. You ask me questions all the time, but I don’t think I really know anything about you other than your name and your job title.”

“I mean, I only really ever ask you questions about the game or the team,” she responds.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you already know everything there is to know about me,” he said pointedly, but softly. He had a point; it was her job to know as much about the players as possible.

“Okay, I know about NHL Hockey Player, Avs’ Center, Forward Extraordinaire Nathan “Nate the Dogg” Mackinnon,” she says, flashing her hands in front as if to signal an imaginary banner, “I don’t know Nate “a dude who sits on his couch with his dog watching dumb shows” Mackinnon.”

“Alright, that’s fair,” he responds deep in thought. “Fine, how about we play 20 questions? You ask me a question; I ask you a question.”

“How very high school, Nathan,” she pauses to think about it. She wasn’t really sure how to feel about this new friendship. On the one hand, it is her job to get to know the players. Although, she was pretty sure that the fraternizing was only supposed to be in professional contexts. On the other hand, her heart was beating so hard that she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. And at the end of the day, it was Nathan Mackinnon, and he wanted to get to know her. Besides, she knew that he didn’t really date anyway, so she felt safe that there was one of them keeping their feelings in check. Eventually, she responds with a nod, “Sure.”

“Okay!” He said excitedly, his blue eyes lighting up, “Where are you from? Where did you grow up and go to college and stuff?”

“Nathan, that’s two questions. Should I deduct points from you?”

“There are points now?”

“I’m just kidding.”

And so, they went back and forth getting to know each other, talking animatedly, and laughing heartily, until they got through the 20 questions each. At one point, they had migrated to a table to continue sitting down because Nate noticed she was shifting on her feet from the heels. Charlotte was pretty certain that Nate now knew her better than anyone else in Denver.

Eventually, EJ came over and tapped Nate on the shoulder at which point she looked up and realized that most of his teammates and donors had left and they were a few of the last people remaining in the event space.

“Hey,” EJ smiled at you in his signature toothless way, “good to see you’re having fun, Charlotte.”

“Thanks, EJ,” she smiled back.

“Mac Daddy, you’re kind of my ride home, so… are you ready to leave?” EJ said laughing and looked at Charlotte, “I don’t think I’ve ever had to pull Nathan here away from a party before. He is usually begging me to leave.”

Nate bumped his elbow into EJ, not drawing much of a response, as he quickly looked away from her. She could have sworn his cheeks were turning a little pink, but that could also be the lighting.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s late and I want to be up for morning skate tomorrow, unlike you lazy idiots,” Nathan grumbled standing up.

She stood up too, only now realizing how tired you were. “Yeah, damn, it’s late. Well, I had a great time talking to you Nathan,” sending him a warm smile and a nod, “EJ. See you two later.”

As she started walking away, she heard some whispers behind her before Nate called out, “Hey, Charlotte, you good to get home? I mean, do you need a ride?”

“Oh, um… Actually… Sure. That would be nice. Thanks!”

She saw EJ whisper something in Nate’s ear before he was quickly shoved away. Suddenly feeling awkward, she trailed behind them quietly to Nate’s car. As soon as it was in sight, EJ called shotgun and started making a run for it, slipping a little on the ice, making Charlotte and Nate snort with laughter.

Nate offered a hand to guide her across the slippery ground and opened the car door for her, keeping his hand on her as she climbed in. She directed Nate to her apartment, thanking him and EJ quickly as she left. Once she got into her apartment, Charlotte leaned against the door and just smiled for a bit.

*          *          *

Meanwhile, in the car, EJ was basically yelling at Nate.

“Dude, you dog, what was that?”

“EJ, stop.”

“No, I’m serious. I’ve never seen you talk to someone for that long. Not even Barrie or Sid.”

“She was easy to talk to. And it was a good way to get through the event.”

“Nate, don’t give me that bullshit.” EJ’s voice is rarely serious, but it is now.

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude.” Nate shrugged.

The rest of the ride to EJ’s house is quiet and as Nate pulled into the driveway, EJ finally spoke up again, “Tell me you at least got her number.”

“Shit,” Nate let out under his breath before he could stop himself.

“Oh my god, you idiot. You didn’t get her number.”

Nate let out a groan and tapped his forehead firmly on his steering wheel in frustration. As EJ shook his head, and said his goodbyes, Nate’s head was whirring with thoughts. There was no smooth way to ask for her number now. It’s like he missed an exit on the freeway and there was no way off now. The alcohol and the adrenaline meant he didn’t sleep much that night and, for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t make it to the optional morning skate, much to the surprise of everyone.

The rest of the season flew by as the team soared through the playoffs. Nate kept thinking about ways to ask Charlotte for her number but just couldn’t stop overthinking it and psyching himself out; eventually deciding to table the topic until after the season was over to focus on the Cup. But he reveled in every intermission or postgame interview where they got to talk, or the little conversations they would get to have in the arena or on the plane. Occasionally, he’d even slip in a hug, taking in her perfume, under the guise of celebration.

The gossip had now spread through the group — not surprising since EJ has never once kept a secret — and had been an ongoing chirp for Nate. It didn’t help that at the two galas since, Nate was the first one there excitedly scanning the room, but Charlotte wasn’t at either. He’d learn she was covering the Nuggets or the Rapids those nights and would then leave as early as possible.

It got even harder to not think about her as he neared the end of the season, where every phone call with his mom would eventually turn to his cousin’s wedding in the summer and whether he was going to bring a date. Family weddings were the one time he felt he couldn’t leave early, forcing himself to endure the suffering that was being single in your late twenties and watching people be in love. Not to mention all the comments and questions: wanting gossip, wanting a date, feeling sorry for him.

*          *          *

Charlotte was happy with the casual platonic friendship that she had found with Nate. She always looked forward to talking with him at games because he was always more relaxed with her than the other boys, even occasionally giving her a sweaty hug after a good, exciting win. Her co-workers had made some comments about how unusual it was, but she just chalked it up to them knowing each other better now.

The job kept her busy, busier than anticipated. And it felt like the year had flown by before she found herself at the celebration gala for the newly crowned Stanley Cup Champions. The atmosphere was different from the last event she had been to. That one was for schmoozing. This was only for celebrating. The energy in the room was intoxicating and she had a big smile plastered to her face as soon as she walked in.

Charlotte made her way through the crowd and congratulated everyone she saw and recognized. Eventually, she stumbled into Gabe.

“Congratulations, Gabe!” you yelled.

“Lotteee! Thank you!” he yelled back, pulling her in for a tight hug before spinning her around. He was so drunk, but he did look unbelievably happy. When he finally put her down, he grabbed her by the arm and very dramatically whispered in her ear while pointing, “Nate’s that way.”

She looked at him confused and surprised, but he didn’t let her say anything before not so gently pushing her towards Nate. And she didn’t protest, because when she finally saw him, she felt her heart speed up again. He looked jubilant, swaying slightly with EJ, face pink and hair messy. She had learned over the last month or so that she really liked the way he looked with the playoff beard.

Charlotte wasn’t sure whether to disturb whatever EJ and Nate were doing, but once EJ saw her, he let out a screech so loud she had no choice but to turn toward them. “Charlotte! Lotte! Lott Ness Monster! Come here!” But once you got here, he immediately left, vanishing to leave her standing in front of the very flushed Nathan Mackinnon.

“Hi Nathan, congratulations! Well deserved. It’s been an absolute privilege watching you this season,” she said, unsure what to do as her heart kept racing faster at the way drunk Nate was looking at her.

“Oh, stop with that professional speech and give me a hug,” he slurred, pulling her in tightly.

She chuckled and let herself enjoy the warmth and the firm contours of his body against her before forcing herself to pull away. He only let her get so far, leaving one arm still wrapped around her shoulders.

“It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself at an event like this,” she said softly.

“Well, I had to! You weren’t at the last two of these, so I had to find a way to entertain myself with EJ,” he said, pouting. She had certainly never seen him pout, but she was even more surprised that he noticed and cared.

“Oh! Yeah, I had work. Sorry.”

“I know. Who even cares about the Nuggets.” he mumbled under his breath before throwing his head back and yelling a quick “GO AVS!” that was followed by a loud round of cheers. After a few seconds, he piped up excited again, “Are you enjoying yourself today?”

“Um… I think so! It’s nice to see everyone so happy and energetic.” Her eyes scanned the crowd, smiling until she caught Gabe and EJ staring and pointing at them. Before she had the chance to ask Nate what that was about, he was pulling her towards Mikko on the other side of the room.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of drinks, laughs, and the warm firm feeling of Nate’s arm around her shoulders. With each passing drink, she found herself leaning into it more. She was sure her face was so red that it rivaled JT’s hair. But if the boys noticed, which they were too drunk to notice, they didn’t mention it. And even if they did, she doesn’t remember.

*          *          *

The next morning Nate woke up with the worst hangover of his life. He had collapsed on top of all his sheets fully naked, and so he also woke up with a slight feeling of shame and dread at what he might have done the night before. When he finally reached over to check his phone, it was blowing up with messages.

gabe the babe (INCOMING): dude did nate finally hook up with the lott ness monster

JT (INCOMING): omg nate, you have to tell us if you did

mooseman (INCOMING): he definitely did, did you not see how he literally didn’t stop touching her the whole night

Nate buried his head in his sheets and groaned, trying to rack his brain for memories of himself being an idiot around Charlotte last night. But he was drawing a blank. After minutes, he finally lifted his head again and opened a private text to EJ.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): ej, please tell me you remember if I did something stupid last night

EJ (INCOMING): yeah. you did.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): FUCK what did I do

EJ (INCOMING): you didn’t take lotte home with you you fucking idiot

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): what

EJ (INCOMING): you just fucking disappeared in an uber without even saying goodbye. and EYE had to make sure she got home okay

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): oh, well it could’ve been worse

EJ (INCOMING): HOW

EJ (INCOMING): HOW COULD IT HAVE BEEN WORSE

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): idk if I did something stupid or said something bad

EJ (INCOMING): dude, you have got to ask her out, you two clearly like each other

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): i have no idea what you’re talking about. we're just friends. we just work together. like you and me

EJ (INCOMING): YEAH RIGHT DOGG if you were touching me all night like that, we would be having a very different conversation ;)

EJ (INCOMING): please tell me you at least have her number now

Nate paused and thought back to the night before, but it was such a blur he didn’t know. But when he looked in his contacts, her number wasn’t there.

Nate Dogg (OUTGOING): nope

EJ (INCOMING): you are so fucking hopeless. i hope you find a pair at home this summer so you will finally do something about this crush

EJ (INCOMING): or maybe when we come back in the fall, she won’t be so single anymore and it won’t matter

Nate felt his stomach turn and he groaned. The hangover finally hit him but he was typing a sarcastic response when another message interrupted his thought.

Sarah (INCOMING): congrats again bro! are you bringing someone to the wedding?

Nate (OUTGOING): wow, really cutting to the chase this morning.

Nate (OUTGOING): and no.

Sarah (INCOMING): what you’re telling me a stanley cup winner can’t find a date

Nate groaned again and muffled a scream in his pillow. He knew that his sister and mom would not drop this subject from the moment he got home. He knew that they would probably try to set him on dates, or worse introduce him to every single woman at the wedding. He lay there, head on his pillow, for a long time, until finally, he had an absolutely insane idea. An idea that can only come to someone after the happiest day of their life followed by the biggest hangover of their life.

Nate (OUTGOING): fine, I’ll bring someone

Sarah (INCOMING): OH MY GOD WHAT WHO

Sarah (INCOMING): NATHAN RAYMOND MACKINNON IF YOU’VE BEEN DATING SOMEONE THIS WHOLE TIME AND HIDING IT FROM ME, I’LL KILL YOU. I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU’VE WON.

Nate (OUTGOING): nope, not telling

Sarah (INCOMING): you are a child and i hate you

Nate (OUTGOING): I love you. See you soon.

Sarah (INCOMING): URGH

Sarah (INCOMING): Love you too. I’m calling mom.

*          *          *

Charlotte woke up with a splitting headache and the room spinning at 6 am. And despite how horribly she felt, she couldn’t get back to sleep. She could still feel Nate’s arm on her shoulder, and his lips against her ear as he whispered something unintelligible, and the scent of his cologne lingering on her hair would waft into her memory every few seconds making her heart skip. She was absolutely certain that he was more drunk than she was, and that he was a touchy drunk. She felt even a little guilty for taking advantage of his touchiness, getting as much as she could last night.

After a few hours of being unable to get back to sleep, she peeled herself up and drew herself a bath with a cup of tea. She still wasn’t able to stomach food yet, but she felt her body relaxing in the warm water, finally letting Nate slip from her mind. Eventually, she got up and padded around the house thinking about the long summer ahead. It was her first summer with not a lot of work to do, and since it was her first year in Denver, she also didn’t really know many people or have any concrete plans.

She had just sat down at her computer to research ideas when she heard a buzz on her apartment intercom. She looked down at her phone confused, but there were no texts there from the few friends she had made so far.

“Hello?” she stutters cautiously into the intercom.

“Oh my god, thank fuck,” a familiar voice rang back, “it’s you. I’ve been buzzing every apartment and I swear your neighbors think I’m a crazy person.”

“What?”

“Um. Oh. Sorry, Charlotte. It’s Nate.”

She was stunned silent. Stunned and confused.

“Um… Nathan Mackinnon…” He filled the silence nervously, “You know… From the Avalanche.”

That snapped her out of her trance as a laugh bubbled out of her. “Oh my god Nathan, I know who you are. Sorry. I was just confused. How do you know where I live?”

“Um, well when we first met, I dropped you off here. So, I made the gamble that you still lived here and just buzzed every apartment to see.”

“Oh. Wow,” she says, stunned, confused and flattered, “Um, is everything okay?”

“Ah, yeah.” He paused. “You know, I just realized how dumb this was. I’m really sorry to disturb you—”

“No!” she says louder than she intended, “No, Nathan, wait. Let me buzz you up.”

“Oh, okay, yeah! Thanks!”

She paced around her entryway, thoughts racing. The door knocks still startled her, and as she walked over, she looked down at her sweatpants and realized there definitely was no time to change and prayed she looked okay.

“Hi, Nathan,” she smiled, opening the door, “Um, do you want to come in?”

“Oh, sure,” he hesitates and makes a gesture to hug her before chickening out, pulling away and stepping past her.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode today?”

“Your apartment is cute.”

“Thanks. It’s not NHL superstar level, but it’s pretty good to me.”

He chuckles and leans a hip on the kitchen island, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His eyes were firmly trained on the ground. She wasn’t really sure what to say, so she moved behind him to start making them both some tea. He studies her as she moves around and wonders how it’s possible she looks so good in your sweatpants and messy bun when he feels like his entire guts might just drop out of his body.

Eventually, he spoke up, “Um, so I realized I didn’t have your number.”

This made her laugh, a proper belly laugh. “What,” she manages to get out, “you came all the way here because you don’t have my number.”

“Well…” he hesitates, “Yeah. I mean, I never asked for it I guess.”

“Okay, do you want it now?” she was still laughing.

“Um, yes?” He was shifting on his feet, rubbing his neck with his hand, leaning awkwardly on the countertop.

“Okay,” she reached a hand out.

He looks at her confused and gives it a slap.

“That was for your phone, silly. Not for a five,” she was laughing even harder now. And his cheeks turned bright red as he handed her his phone, not meeting her eyes. She passes the phone back to him along with a cup of tea, “There you go. So… What was the huge rush? You could’ve emailed me or something for it.”

He paused and laughed, “Honestly, I didn’t even think of that. I guess my brain doesn’t work very well when I’m hungover.”

Charlotte took a seat next to him on the kitchen island as they sipped their teas.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat. “Actually, that’s not why I came over. I mean it, but it isn’t the main reason.”

“Okay?” she encouraged.

“I had a really stupid idea and it was stupid at the time, but now I’m here it’s even dumber. So, I’ll just settle for the number.”

“Okay, Nathan, you can’t just say something that cryptic and not tell me.”

His face went bright red again and he shuffled in place. “No, it’s okay.”

“Okay, no. You don’t get to interrupt my hangover recovery and not tell me why.”

He sighed and looked away. After a while, he mumbled under his breath very quickly, “Fine. Icameheretoaskyouifyou’dcometomycousin’swedding.”

“What?” she said, not sure if she misinterpreted the mumbles or if she was dreaming.

“Um… Well, my cousin, back in Nova Scotia, is getting married in a few weeks. And my mom and sister keep bothering me to bring someone. And I just had this stupid idea. Because you’re the only person I’ve had fun with at those big events. So, this morning, in my post-Stanley Cup alcohol delirium I thought Hey, I should ask Charlotte if she wants to help me survive a social event and get my parents off my ass about not having a date? So here I am. But obviously, that was insane. So don’t worry about it.”

Charlotte looked at him, mouth open, in shock for longer than acceptable, and felt her own cheeks redden. A little lightheaded, before she could really stop to think, she responded, “Sure! I mean why not? What’s the harm in me going? I don’t have any plans.”

His head snapped up to meet her eyes for the first time in a few minutes and Charlotte is captivated by the way his sharp blues light up in response. It was when she saw the smile take over his face and her heart sped up that she knew this was probably a huge mistake. But a mistake she didn’t want to take back.

*          *          *

“So, how long have you two cuties been dating?” the fifth person in a row asked. Charlotte wasn’t sure if this was an aunt or a family friend, but she forced the smile back on her face as she responded.

“Oh, we’re not dating. We work together, kind of.”

The lady looked between the two of them, and Charlotte could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle again as she was acutely aware of Nate’s hand resting on her lower back.

“She’s here as my date, yes, but we aren’t dating. We’re just good friends,” he replies gently but firmly, the same way he had been doing all weekend, before changing the subject.

But she was lost in thought. She had been here for a few days, and she had to admit that Nova Scotia was beautiful, and Nate’s family and friends were wonderful. Despite not knowing Nate super well, she had never felt out of place. He had always made sure she was included in conversations, explaining anything that felt like an inside joke. She thought back to all the times she had met a boyfriend’s family — there hadn’t been that many, but enough to know that this was far better than any of them did.

Nate had been awkward and hesitant at first, jumping away every time he touched her by accident on the plane ride over and flinching when their knuckles brushed when he went to help her grab her luggage. But he slowly allowed himself to loosen up a little, reading her lack of discomfort as a good sign. He always prided himself on acting like a gentleman; even though women complained that he was stiff and unromantic, he tried. He found himself putting in an extra effort to hold open the door for her, to pull out a chair for her, to offer an elbow as she walked on the uneven pavement.

If Nate was in his head about every move he made, Charlotte was ten times more in her head. They had only really spent time together at work and work functions. And she wasn’t sure if that’s why something felt different here, more intimate, or if she was just imagining it. She was starting to feel like he was going out of his way to touch her; laying a hand on her knee when they were sitting next to each other, tapping her elbow to show her something, keeping a hand on her back when they were standing.

She had tried her hardest not to lean into his touch every time, but she couldn’t deny the comfort his large hand on her back felt—god, was his hand always this large. It was never too low as to be intrusive; just resting chastely on her mid back to remind her that he was there and was ready to take a break from the socializing at any point.

Whether she was imagining it or not, it was starting to drive her insane. Her skin constantly felt buzzing and hot, tingling in the places he touched, electrified in the places closest to him that craved his touch.

Nate’s low voice in her ear startled her out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?” she responded as she felt her neck and ear flush with the brush of his lips on her ear.

“Oh, I was just asking if you want to go for a walk,” he murmured, “you’re looking a little overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, sure,” she breathed, her voice coming out a little shaky with how close his tall frame was to her.

And so, she reached out and took his extended elbow as they slipped out of the rehearsal dinner and wandered down to the waterfront in silence.

“I can totally see why you love it here,” she finally said.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“It’s beautiful. The water. With the lights reflecting. And all the beautiful trees. And the fresh air. I can understand why you love coming here in the summer.”

“Yeah, it’s truly something,” he looked over at her with an unreadable expression on his face, but his eyes were warm and soft. It looked like he wanted to say something for a second before he shook his head and looked away. “I’m glad you came with me. You make these big events bearable.”

“Just bearable, Nathan?” she laughed, trying to break the tension in the air she couldn’t really explain. And his chuckles were quick to join hers in the warm summer air.

And just like that, they fell into a comfortable rhythm again, laughing and chatting. Eventually, he walked her back to the hotel and their adjoining rooms.

“Well, here you go, m’lady,” he joked, letting his arm fall from her for the first time in a while. He began to turn towards his room but hesitated for a second before turning back and pulling her into a tight hug. She let herself melt into the hug, embracing the warm buzzing feeling in her chest as she felt his larger frame engulf her. He didn’t let go when she thought he was going to, instead whispering in her ear, “Thank you.”

“Thank me for what, Nathan?”

“For coming with me. For being so good with my family, even though they keep asking intrusive questions. For just being you,” he said, pulling back. They were standing so close together that she could see every shade of blue in his eyes as they looked at her intently. She swore she saw his eyes flicker to her lips briefly before the smallest sharp intake of breath he tried to hide as he untangled from her. She could feel her body ache a little as her cheeks burned.

She didn’t know if it was the glasses of wine or the dizzying tension, but before she could stop herself, she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Of course, Nathan,” she murmured, “good night.” She smiled as she turned away and opened her hotel room door as quickly as possible.

She didn’t dare to take a peek back at him, but if she had, she would have seen his eyes wide, and cheeks flushed in shock. Instead, she quickly ducked into the room, shutting the door behind her, leaning back against the cold wood, and closing her eyes. What the fuck am I doing, she said to herself, Nate is a sweet guy, who I work with. I’m just doing him a favor. And he clearly thinks I’m just a good friend, as he keeps saying to everyone. Get it together.

She walked away and started getting ready for bed. It took her a long time to fall asleep that night, tossing and turning as her mind raced through the moments of the day, all the little touches and glances and the sparkle in Nate’s blue eyes.

 *         *          *

The following day was the wedding, and the morning passed comfortably despite neither of them acknowledging the moment they both wanted to talk about so badly. Soon, she found herself sitting beside him in the church, watching the beautiful bride stand next to her adoring groom.

While the ceremony went on, Nate was having a hard time staying out of his thoughts as the celebrant talked about love and marriage and as the happy couple exchanged adoring words with each other. It was not that he hated weddings, not at all; in fact, he loved them. He loved the celebration and the emotion. But as the years went on, it became a stunning reminder of what he did not have. With every wedding and every failed relationship in between, he felt more alone, like maybe something was wrong with him.

Charlotte noticed that Nate seemed emotional, lost in his thoughts. She had no idea what was going through his mind, but she could sense that he was troubled. At some point during the ceremony, when Nate found himself particularly emotional, he had reached his hand over and grasped hers. She had to try hard to hold back the small gasp that threatened to escape her lips. But seeing his troubled expression, she squeezed his hand. And, inexplicably to her, his hand never left hers, not during the rest of the ceremony, or the walk over to the cocktail hour space. He only reluctantly let go to help her to her seat once they got to the reception.

Although they both enjoyed the reception food, they had both been so deep in their own thoughts that their conversation with the table was stilted and almost awkward. Eventually, as the night wore on, and the gentle fuzz of liquor started to take over, they both started to relax. Nate, after starting and stopping for almost 15 minutes, finally asked her to dance; his heart rate racing as she excitedly nodded yes.

Which is how they found themselves on the dancefloor for over an hour. At first, it was awkward. They were standing a foot apart, dancing independently; she, laughing at Nate’s horrible dance moves, and Nate, feeling electrified by the way her body moved. Eventually, they got closer and closer together until they were swaying in each other’s arms to some horrible Mariah Carey song, making snide remarks in each other’s ears and not caring how obnoxiously loud they were laughing at the jokes.

A few drinks later, their inhibitions were lowered enough that she found herself with her back against him. His arms wrapped firmly around her waist as she leaned into his warm, towering figure. Both of them were no longer sure if they were intoxicated by each other or the drinks, but they did not really care. After they were grinding to a Doja Cat song, she swore she felt something press against her back, but she was not sure as Nate swiftly excused himself to use the bathroom.

And that’s how she found herself at the bar by herself.

“Nate really likes you, you know?” she heard a voice say beside her. When she looked over, she saw his mom giving her a knowing glance.

“Oh, Mrs. Mackinnon, we’re just friends,” Charlotte managed to choke out, despite feeling her throat tighten.

“I know, sweetie, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be more there,” she smiled, laying a soft hand on her forearm. She had never felt herself sober up faster.

“I appreciate that, but we do work together,” she strained.

“Please, call me Kathy,” she continued, not acknowledging Charlotte’s weak protest. And when she did not respond, Kathy added, “You know, I’ve met a number of his girlfriends, and he had never looked at them the way he looks at you. Or even treated them the same way. He’s barely left your side since you got here.”

“Kathy, I’m sure that’s not true. You have raised an amazing son. I’m sure he is just as kind to anyone.” She could feel her cheeks feel heat as she started scanning the room, desperate for Nate’s return.

“Sweetheart,” Kathy spoke softly, “I have been married for many years. There is only one reason a person looks at someone the way he looks at you, and that’s love. If you feel the same way, you should tell him. Don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short.”

She smiled as her husband came to stand next to her; and before Charlotte could protest again, she gave her a gentle hug before walking away, leaving her standing there with her head spinning at her words.

Charlotte gripped the edge of the bar and downed her drink in one go once the bartender handed it to her, earning an eyebrow raise. She jumped and let out a little squeak when she felt a warm hand press into her back.

“Woah, it’s just me,” Nate joked before he met her eyes and his brows furrowed, “are you okay?”

“Um, yeah,” she croaked out stiffly.

“Are you sure?” he stepped in closer which only made her stiffen more, “You seem… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable?”

“What?” she tried to say calmly, although it came out an octave too high, “What makes you say that? Nope. I’m fine.”

He furrowed his brow more and leaned back, confused, before removing his hand from her back and stuffing them in his pockets. There was a twinge of sadness in his eye as he looked around, unsure what to do. “Okay, then. Do you want to go back on the dance floor? Or I guess not. We could sit back at our table?”

“Yeah,” she said awkwardly, finding a normal tone again, “Table sounds good.”

They sat in silence for a bit, just watching the other guests dancing, both deep in thought. She was stuck thinking about what Nate’s mom had said. If she thought about it, she could totally understand why an outside observer would see their relationship as something more than friends. But if Nate had feelings for her, why did he so insistently refer to her as his “good friend”? And even if he did like her, she wasn’t sure about the implications for her job. Was she going to get fired? Probably not, if she was upfront with HR. But she was new to the city and relatively new to the field. What if people started to see her as the girl who ‘goes for the stars’ or the girl who’s ‘just here to get in some rich athlete’s pants’. She had worked too hard not to be taken seriously now. And maybe if things worked out, it would eventually blow over. But if it didn’t work out… If it didn’t work out, she wasn’t sure what would happen, but she felt it would be bad.

Meanwhile, Nate was panicking; combing through every moment of the evening, trying to find where things went wrong. He was finally feeling like he had an idea of how she felt. Like maybe if he told her his feelings, she would reciprocate. Did he go too far with the dancing? Was Drunk Nate too caught up in the moment and did something inappropriate and unwanted? Nate was never much of a verbal processor — he preferred to stew on things first, —  and maybe it was the remnants of the alcohol lingering in his system but he felt the words trying to bubble up in his chest. He didn’t even know what the words would be; maybe words to explain how he felt about her, to make sure he didn’t do something wrong, to make sure she was okay.

When she finally felt the grip on her chest loosen and the thoughts begin to slow a little, she snuck a quick glance at Nate. His jaw was set firm, and brows furrowed. He was staring into the crowd on the dancefloor, but he was clearly not watching them. He looked tense, and she could see the panic she felt reflected on his face. She found herself reaching out and taking his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze; a move that clearly surprised him as he jumped a little before smiling and relaxing into it.

“Nate, I’m actually getting kind of tired. I’m thinking of heading back to the room. Did you want to stay longer?” she said gently.

He squeezed her hand back and gave her a small smile, although the worry hadn’t left the contours of his face yet, “No, I’m actually ready to head back too. Come on.” He pulled her onto her feet.

They took the ten-minute walk back to the hotel in relative silence, tethered together by their interlocked hands. Nate spent the whole walk back planning his speech; he was going to tell her how he felt because he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Holding hands with her just felt so right. But for her, despite how nice it felt, it caused an overwhelming sense of panic to rush back through her. It was nice. It was too nice. It was going to ruin everything.

Stepping out of the elevator, the words escaped her lips before she had the chance to hold them back. “Nate, I think this was a mistake,” her voice was barely above a whisper. He froze beside her and managed to choke out a “What?”

“Nate,” she said, pulling her hand away from him and backing towards her door, “This is giving me a taste of what I can’t have. And this friendship… I don’t think I can do this.”

“What are you talking about?” he replied, still stuck in the spot where she left him, his voice louder than he had intended.

“The touching, the holding hands, the being sweet… It’s too much,” she said, unlocking the door, not meeting his eyes.

“What—” he repeated, his voice cracking at the end. Her mind didn’t process that the pain she felt was echoed in his voice.

She sighed, stepping into the doorway, “I can’t do this, Nate. Because if we keep doing this, I’m going to fall in love with you. And I can’t do that while being your ‘good friend from work’. So, I’m going to bed. Good night.” She finally met his eye as she stepped back to shut the door, barely registering the way his face flickered from hurt to confusion to shock to hope.

Charlotte rested her forehead against the door and let out a shaky breath. She could feel the tears form and slide down her face. She tried to convince herself that it was the right move, but the only thing she could hear in her head was the sound of Nate’s mother’s voice saying ‘Don’t stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short.’ What if Kathy was right? What if protecting herself from pain was causing more pain itself? What if it would work out? As she stood there, she listened for movement on the other side of the door, but she heard none. Was that hope she saw in his face there? If it was, what did it mean?

Before she could finish the thought, she heard shuffles and a rapid knock on the door that startled her. She didn’t know why, but she opened it without hesitation.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I did something earlier that made you uncomfortable. I'm sorry if I'm crossing a boundary now but I would never forgive myself if I didn't say this," he said, looking at her with concern. When she nodded, he continued speaking.

He confessed to her that he had never been this person before, love-struck and irrational. He had always been calm, detached, and calculated, but with her, he couldn't help it. He couldn't help being rash, like inviting her to the wedding or reaching out to touch her and be close to her.

She had told him that she couldn't do this because she was scared of falling in love with him, but he revealed that he might already be in love with her. He had been saying that she was just a friend and a colleague because he was scared, but he had never felt this way before and was afraid he would mess it up.

During the wedding ceremony, he looked around at everyone and realized that he had won the Stanley Cup this year, but he still felt off. He kept thinking about her - how her laughter made him want to make her laugh again, how her smile warmed his chest, and how he could still feel the tingle where their skin had touched even after she left.

He admitted that he had never been sure if he had truly been in love before, and maybe this was it. He thought they owed it to themselves to find out because he believed she might feel the same way. He knew it might not be the most rational decision, but it was everything he had to say.

Feeling a shaky breath escape her lips, she heard the voice in her mind, "Don't stand in the way of your own happiness, dear. Life is too short." For the first time on this trip, she felt her mind still and smiled as she closed the distance between them. With her chest pressed to him, she looked up at him, admiring his soft and nervous blue eyes. She reached up to cup his neck and met him in a kiss.

The kiss was gentle and soft at first, as she chastely felt their bodies slot together; his hands finding her waist, and hers fisting his suit jacket to bring him closer. After not long, she felt Nate run his tongue along her lip and she allowed herself to deepen the kiss, conveying the emotion that was hard to put into words. The feeling of his firm hands against her waist and his muscular body against hers again made her feel as though she were on fire. And she had to admit, she liked this quite a lot. Eventually, they disconnected and rested their foreheads together as they took in the moment.

“So, are you going to say something?” Nate whispered.

 “Yeah, uh, ditto,” she whispered back, giggling slightly.

“That’s it?!” he leaned back in mock horror, “After I poured my heart out, that’s all you have to say?” She could see a smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, I think for the first time in your life, you have spoken enough words for both of us, Nathan,” she laughed as she gave his chin a little pinch, drawing a laugh from him as well. She leaned back in to place another firm kiss on his lips before saying, “I like you a lot too. Like a lot a lot. It scares me. But, as the kids say, you only live once, and I need to stop being scared and just see where this goes because I think I might be in love with you, Nathan, and I need to find out if I am.”

He smiled broadly; it’s the smile she loves, the one where his nose scrunches a little and she can see the genuine happiness on his face. And as their lips rejoined, she slowly started to pull him back into her hotel room.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” he says, disconnecting their lips briefly.

“Uh, right now? Sure, I guess,” she raised her eyebrow.

“Why do you always call me Nathan? Everyone always calls me Nate.” The question catches her off-guard and she laughed as she continued dragging him into your room.

“I was trying to remind myself to stay professional and not fall for you,” she laughed as she felt the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Right…That worked so well, I’ll have to remember that one for the future, Miss Charlotte,” he laughed back before kissing her again so deeply and passionately that she forgot whatever retort was on the tip of her tongue.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for getting upset because my friends said they couldn’t hang out with me?

TW: small mention of SA

Context: I(16m) am in a friend group with around 7 other people, including my bf (16m). Who I am currently living with because of issues at home. And because of things going on, like work, getting drivers licenses, and the school musical (which is, imo, the worst thing we have at this school bc of the toxic environment, toxic director, and child predators that were in there touching girls.) we haven’t been hanging out much. The last time we all hung out was for my birthday at the end of February, which I had to fight with some people to even go.

So, this starts with me making plans. ALWAYS. I’ve made the plans for this friend group every time without fail for the last year and a half. And I noticed we haven’t been hanging out as much and my boyfriend agrees, so I text everyone around 2 weeks ago and asked if they wanted to do anything. My one friend, we will call L, suggested that we go to a museum in the city. I asked her if Saturday at Noon would work that week and she and everyone else agreed. So, that Thursday, I made sure everyone was good with that, and I found out that she and my other friend, who we will call O, had to go in for a 7 hour rehearsal on Saturday. No big deal, I get it. So I rescheduled for the following Saturday.

The next Friday rolls around and me, my bf, and L are doing volunteer hours at our elementary school. I, again, check in to see if she’s going. She says that because she is so exhausted from the musical, she can’t go. I understand again, but here’s the thing. L thinks she HAS to do our schools play and musical, and got upset with me when I didn’t wanna go because I had been assaulted physically and verbally by other cast members and the director. L actively overbooks herself and then complains that she’s upset or tired or acts like she has to do these things. Her parents aren’t forcing her or pressuring her btw. But, I do understand needing some time, and I agree that I’ll reschedule again, because i want all of us to be there. And also, O texted me (after he expressed his desire to go really badly) that he couldn’t go because there was a parade that weekend. So I changed it to that Sunday. Me and my bf thought it would fix all the problems.

It didn’t. Both L and O came up with bullshit excuses not to go after it was THEIR idea to hang out! L said she had to “babysit” her 14 year old brother who is perfectly healthy and capable. Not because her parents asked her to, but because she said he will “burn the house down” and O said that his mom had to work and he didn’t wanna ask his dad (btw both of his parents are the nicest people I’ve ever met). So, I got very upset with them and I actually cried to my boyfriend about it. I feel like my friends don’t wanna hang out with me or see me. Especially bc O had got a new bf, who is cis (O is a trans boy) and his new bf has publicly been known as the “tboy/femboy chaser” and fetishizes trans people. When I expressed this to O, he said that I was making it up. They also are extremely inappropriate, and actively make out when we’re all trying to hang out or talk to them. One time, we were having a New Year’s party, and they took up the only couch, making out for 5 hours. O and L also like to point out that me and my bf never are apart, and that’s when I remind them that we not only live together, but he is in the main friend group. I’m tired of these guys making up excuses to not see me. So, AITA?? :(

What are these acronyms?

[be-dazzled]

All Treats, No Tricks

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser October 31, 2023 Posted: Decemebr 26, 2023

Writer’s Corner: Months too late but I think the timing worked for me. The ending sounds and feels more wintery/christmas-y, isn't it? I don't feel like this one's good enough as compared to my Juvia Day entry so your honest feedback is very much welcomed. Help me improve!

All rights reserve to Hiro Mashima, original creator.

Masterlist

...

The cold season rolled in and seeped throughout the grounds of Magnolia. Its silent breeze knocked puny, tree branches against locked windows. It howled through the night, prowling the silent grounds of sleeping citizens. For those who made the mistake of forgetting to lock their windows, the October breeze pried into their room and wreaked havoc on all that it could carry. Easily targeted all that weighed close to none. Especially ripping off the pages on the wall calendar and revealing today’s date – October 31, Halloween.

After the fiasco that was the Fairy Tail Horror House of X791, that type of event was forever banned in the town of Magnolia. In its wake a new tradition was born where families were invited to decorate their homes to win lovely prizes, even encouraging them to hand out candies to children going around house to house, mage guilds included.

Rather than eerily quiet, Halloween in Fairy Tail was fun and lively.

The troublemakers – Natsu and Happy – had a good idea of wearing costumes to scare off the children who, in the words of Natsu the Demon King, “dared to enter my house of terror,” punctuating it with a high-pitched maniacal laugh that did not, at all, scare a living soul. But he was enjoying chasing after children who somehow believed Demon Kings existed and that they were ridiculously funny. Erza, wearing the shortest (skimpiest but no one dared to say it) witch costume, took up her sword and pretended to battle the Demon King. She was acting, she claimed but Lucy, the only writer in the room argued that it was an inaccurate depiction and didn’t make any sense plot-wise. Why would a witch have a sword when she had magic powers? But who would take a Leopard Girl seriously? Donned in a tight-fitting onesie that hugged her body like a second skin and accentuated all her dips and curves, Lucy the Sexy Leopard lost all credibility.

A certain ice-make mage, on the other hand, found it all juvenile. Yet, Gray was pursuing kids around the guild, the end of his tape costume riding the wind as he did. He wasn’t a scary mummy, he deduced, since instead of screams of terrors, the guild was filled with children’s ecstatic cheers and giggles. Well, half giggles and half scandalous because the end of Gray’s mummy tape got stuck on some pillar and pulled, making him a half-naked, pervert who happened to wear pants made of strip linen.

Erza smacked him on the back of the head.

So inappropriate.

But not as inappropriate as the thing that he was about to witness.

Juvia, Fairy Tail’s resident water-mage, wasn’t too comfortable with her assigned costume so she kept herself hidden backstage. She watched in the shadows as her comrades showed off their costumes, parading around the Fairy Tail building, welcoming their guests with booze (for the adults), colorful drinks (for the kids) and some imaginative snacks. She wondered how come the only thing that connected her decorated brassiere and the underwear that covered her nether region was just strings snaked around her torso. She asked Erza about it but the only answer she got was the mesh material on her head, some sort of see-through veil, its length reaching her waist but covered nothing. Plus, the heavy and expensive accessories around her neck, arms and wrists made the look less racy than it actually was. They lent her some air of distinct. She did a once-over in front of the mirror, twirling around to inspect herself and couldn’t help but think she might be missing a piece on her costume. Maybe a skirt to cover her lower body? Because she swore her bottom was hanging out.

Erza said the long veil on top of her head covered it enough and that she should stop worrying about it.

She really should worry about it.

Even if Mira and the already drunk Cana assured her that she would be the envy of the room and would surely get Gray the Half-Naked Mummy’s attention. The latter was enough encouragement though, which emboldened Juvia to come out of her hiding. That and finding her self-declared love rival enjoying her time with Mummy Gray, her beloved. She charged towards the two, about to bring hell to the Leopard Girl, when a soft breeze touched her exposed skin and Juvia had another think coming. But it was too late. She was out in the open now and everyone was hollering and whistling at her ensemble. As she watched her comrades strut around in their own Halloween costumes though – the moon princess Mira-chan; vampire Lisanna; Elfman and Evergreen in a couple’s costume ala Adam and Eve; the Thunder Legion Tribe in what appeared to be some sort of forest creatures (were they supposed to be Pokémon and was someone supposed to collect ‘em all?); and archery goddess Wendy – Juvia felt like she pulled the short end of the stick.

Because what the hell was she wearing?

It was a fucked-up gypsy dancer costume if you asked Gray. Beautiful, he’d go as far as saying it was nose-bleed-inducing, but definitely fucked-up. He wasn’t too happy about that.

Even Cana was modestly covered in her own fucked-up priestess costume.

People – ugly men, irritating old geezers, boys that weren’t Gray-sama – started coming up to Juvia with Macao and Wakaba in the lead. She made it obvious she wasn’t comfortable with their attention but the crowd had already gathered around her. She searched for the black spiky hair in it but found her precious Gray-sama still standing beside Leopard Girl. Summoning all her magic power, Juvia immediately fell into her fighting stance, about to tsunami all those perverts out of the way when her vision turned pitch-black.

“Eh?”

She extended her arm to feel for anything, anything at all, that could explain why she was instantly blinded, only to feel strong fingers grab her wrist and whiz her away from the complaining crowd.

“Eh!”

“I guess this is safe for now.”

She didn’t need her eyes to know who it was. Juvia could recognize that voice anywhere, even when it was broken by huffs.

“Gray-sama…”

“Oh, that’s right.”

He swiftly released his grip on her hand and Juvia pouted at the loss of contact. A sudden chill replaced the warmth that encircled her wrist. She didn’t like it.

“Sorry about that.”

“No!” Juvia cleared up, in case he might take it the wrong way, “Gray-sama shouldn’t apologize.”

The water mage wasn’t sure where they went or how far they had come from the guild. But wherever Gray was, she was always safe with him.

“You saved Juvia from the commotion.”

A commotion caused by her inappropriate appearance, Gray ought to say but decided not to. Instead, he said a terse ‘It was nothing’.

Her ears might have deceived her but Juvia could place a grin on his voice. She could imagine that small curve of his lips, wanting to see it with her own eyes but something was still blocking her view. Something soft and rather silky, heavy on her crown too. It covered her from head to toe. She clutched the unidentified veil in her fist and realized it was the same fabric as the covering of the long table back at the guild. Juvia tried to pull on the cloth, trying to get rid of the covering when Gray started speaking again.

“…something like that.”

The covering muffled Gray’s words. As she was trying desperately to uncover herself, Juvia only caught the tail end of what he was saying. She stopped for a moment, tipped her head to the side, deciding whether to ask him to repeat what he said, which would give Gray the impression that she wasn’t listening to him, or just pretend as if she heard him.

Sensing her confusion despite the wall of fabric between them, Gray repeated his words, this time a bit louder and very much clearer than earlier.

“Don’t wear something like that.”

It took her a moment to realize but Juvia caught on to what the ice-make mage meant. It was her scant costume. Remembering how some cloth and some strings strategically covered those areas, Juvia internally agreed with Gray. She shouldn’t be wearing something like that again, nodding her head furiously that she might just break her own neck.

“In public.”

He added before clearing his throat and inviting Juvia to walk around the neighborhood, not giving her an opening to say anything back about his last comment. Juvia had the tendency to twist his words, or rather, which was always the case, point out what exactly he wanted to say but couldn’t.

Don’t wear something like that in public.

He meant only to wear it for him in private, right?

Gray started toward the direction of the crowd, where most people were scattered in small groups. He was saying something Juvia was not able to hear through that thick white covering hanging over her. She followed where she assumed Gray was headed, straining her ears to listen to his footsteps whilst she blindly soldiered on through the veil-made darkness. The water mage was starting to get frustrated with the covering she’d been trying to get out of since earlier. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t find the beginning or end of that long, thick fabric weighing down on her with a smooth but consistent fall, much like her magic – a curtain of water.

Ironic.

And why was Gray not helping her at all? It wasn’t like he was busy keeping quiet since he had all the time in the world to run his mouth about god knows what. His talking was like a soft buzz in Juvia’s ears – a distant noise that didn’t make sense.

Despite the cold breeze and the fact that she was practically naked inside, her body was starting to feel hot. A sheen of perspiration started to form over her skin. The heavy covering not only successfully blocked her view but also any air in and out of her fabric jail.

“G-Gray-sama…” She called out but the thick veil separating them blacked the words out, “…help Juvia~”

Gray hadn’t paid her any attention (deliberately ignoring her or unintentionally forgetting, Juvia wasn’t sure) until the poor water mage kicked on an uneven terrain and tripped. She braced herself for impact, throwing her hands in front of her as she was about to fall on the pavement, face-first. But the impact never came. Instead, Juvia’s body was pressed against something hard. Not as hard as she remembered pavement should be though. Curiosity spurred Juvia to explore this not-a-pavement surface, flattening her palms on what turned out to be Gray’s firm pecs, the slightest bump giving her the idea that she might just be… touching on Gray’s...

She rubbed them just to make sure.

“Uhn… Ju-Juvia…”

And kneaded for better measure.

“T-that’s… he-hey…”

She was definitely right.

Gods do exist!

Juvia could hear the strain in his voice. And something else. Something she wasn’t familiar with. But worry bumped curiosity off first place. Gray sounded like he might be in pain and the idea horrified Juvia that she might be the reason for it. He did break her fall and she was comfortably using her as a human cushion. So, she slid her open palms lower, eliciting more low and strange noises from the man beneath her. She ignored the noise in favor of resting her hands over what she assumed was Gray’s abdomen, intent on pushing herself off him to free her poor savior from his distress. She was a little bit sorry that she had to use his body to do so. Which, unbeknownst to Juvia, was stirring something in Gray that should not be stirred. Not when they were in public like this.

Oh, if Juvia could see the ice-make mage’s reaction now – gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw.

She successfully leaned away, readying to pull her knees so she could prop herself up and fully get off of poor Gray when a cold breeze whizzed past them, magically finding the end of the frustrating veil and blew the hem of the fabric covering her body. Gray was a hero the second time when he slapped that cloth back to its rightful place. Saving the water mage from the embarrassment of public indecent exposure.

“Eeep!”

But bumping her to another level of embarrassment.

Gray only realized where his hands were touching when Juvia’s body wiggled and twisted above him. The force of his ‘heroic act’ slammed Juvia flatly on top of him again.

“G-Gray-sama felt Ju-Ju-Juvia’s bottom!”

She muttered, fidgeting at the heat that spread over both cheeks, either because Gray’s hands were still cupping her ass or the mere force of his slap, or both.

“So, G-Gray-sama was into this kind of… s-s-stuff?” She whispered to herself.

But that wasn’t a whisper. It was more of a loud musing because that one Gray heard through the fabric barrier between them.

“No!” He strongly denied it. “That’s… I’m not… hey!”

For a good minute, they were a tangled mess – him trying to, but very much cautiously, push her off of him, slipping on the fabric when he tried to stand up with Juvia still on top of him, and her trying to pull herself away from him, which proved to be a struggle since Gray just couldn’t stay still. It didn’t help that the thick cloth separating them from each other was too silky and slippery to the touch.

Gray could only cry how that freaking veil was the devil. The devil! And he quickly regretted whisking the long mantle off the table to cover Juvia with, until they finally detached themselves from each other. Both were breathless from the endeavor.

Passersby threw them ugly looks, which made Gray realize that covering Juvia with the table mantle was not one of his brightest ideas. He tried to rearrange the cloth, so that Juvia was still fully covered (her fucked-up costume hidden), but made it so that her head was popping out of the makeshift ghost costume so at least she could see where they were going and avoid another mishap. The water mage, thank goodness, stood still and quiet, as Gray secured the long textile around her neck with a knot made of his mummy tape. He smirked at his creation, proud of his quick thinking. Then broke into cackles he tried to suppress but couldn’t, scrutinizing her attire – a Juvia floating head. Now, that’s a true Halloween costume.

“Gray-sama shouldn’t be laughing at Juvia.” She bemoaned. “Not when he’s looking like that.”

Gray followed her eyes down his lower body to realize he was stripped down to his G x J boxers, using up what remained of his mummy tape costume on Juvia.

“Whoa!”

It was Juvia’s turn to laugh at him. But Gray took no offense to it and joined in, the both of them laughing together and at each other in their poor state. They were so stuck in their own world that Gray belatedly noticed the scandalized glare thrown at both of them – mostly on him – especially by children who were often told to wear something in public.

Gray scooped Juvia off the ground (which was totally unnecessary by everyone’s account) and whisked the water mage, a second time, away from the crime scene.

Young couples are too bold nowadays.

It’s probably because of the full moon.

...

Gray hid them at some back alley. He surreptitiously peeked through the corner, with an unusually quiet water mage still carried in both arms. Only after making sure no one was following after them, not the police or an angry mob, that Gray could finally puff a relief. He settled Juvia on the ground as gently as he could. And wondered why she was running out of breath when Gray did all the running.

“Are you alright, Juvia?”

“Y-y-yes.”

She stuttered. Round blue eyes were spinning like wheels on the run.

“Erm… are you sure?”

She sure didn’t look okay.

Gray was so accustomed to Juvia that he could read her like a book. Every word and every sentence he could easily interpret. And this reaction from her was probably caused by him bolting her away. He should have thought of his actions thoroughly because who knows what Juvia’s creative imagination must have conjured of him holding her in a bridal carry.

Gray and Juvia’s wedding? Them on their honeymoon, crossing the threshold into their master bedroom? Probably, both.

He settled a hand on her shoulders. The thick eyebrows on his forehead were knitted – quite bothered by the possibility that she could still slip into her imaginary land when she had the real thing right in front of her now. Unlike before, Gray had become more receptive to her feelings. And unlike before, he made conscious actions to show that he returned those very feelings. Had he not made it clear to her?

“Juvia…”

His coaxing willed Juvia back to reality, to where she and Gray were in a back alley hiding.

“Juvia is okay, Gray-sama.”

Her blue eyes returned to normal and Gray could slip a sigh of relief. Without a need to worry now, Gray retrieved his hand and suggested they come back to the guild when Juvia’s made-shift cloak started to come undone. Her Halloween costume – the brassiere connected with some barely-there knots – peeked through the opening and threatened to reveal itself in its full glory. Which was bad for Gray for the following reasons: a) Juvia was still half-lying on the ground; b) they were in some dark, back-alley; and c) they were alone in that dark alley.

And d) he was still just wearing his boxers.

“Ju-Juvia!”

But it was Gray’s fingers that yanked the edges of the loosening drape and clasped them together against her chest. Another bad idea of Gray’s now that his fists were pressed down against her breasts. Soft and quite big. Not that it surprised him. He was very much familiar with how Juvia’s breasts felt to the touch. Not that he openly touched them either. Opportunities just happened to present themselves to him. Oh how tortured and conflicted he was. That stirring inside his stomach earlier was rapidly brewing into something that shouldn’t be brewing.

“Uhn…”

What a cute voice!

Damn, it was like the universe was trying to tell him something.

Gray yanked his evil hands and put them back to his side. Away from Juvia’s soft mounds.

“S-s-sorry.”

But that lecherous costume was taunting him again, the deep valley of her breasts peering through the slightest opening. He ordered himself to look away but his sinful eyes did not stray even just a little. So, he chose to just fight the rising heat that burned his cheeks. If she asked, he could blame that one on the weather.

Gray cleared his throat. Thinking that by doing so, Juvia might not notice him ogling. He reached out his hands and started to tighten the mummy tape again around her neck. There was a crisp silence between them, which Gray appreciated. Juvia’s focused gaze at his hands was reason enough for him to struggle to steady his fingers as he looped the tape. But in the end, he was able to fix it.

“All done.”

She thanked him with a lovely smile – the kind that always followed him in his dreams. The warm smile that kept him company when he was alone. The low howl of the October breeze made him aware that they were in a dark alley where people scarcely passed through. It had a wicked way of conjuring today’s moments that the courteous Gray would rather tuck safely into the back of his memory – when Juvia stepped out of hiding in her inappropriate costume; when he unintentionally spanked and cupped her butt-cheeks; when Juvia rubbed her palms over his breasts; and when he fastened the ends of the cloth and accidentally pressed on her soft mounds. These memories he’d rather bury in the depths of his consciousness and only unearth them when he was alone.

Right now, he wasn’t alone. He was with Juvia, the star of those evoking memories, in a place where there was little to no chance of anyone walking in on them if Gray allowed some of his dreams to come alive. Clandestine. He stopped that thought and suggested they walk back to the guild. He needed the exercise.

Juvia pointed out to him his current state and Gray miraculously found some cloak flapping with the wind, hanging outside somebody’s window. It was black, a total contrast to Juvia’s white ones. He figured no one was going to miss that drabby old cloak.

As they took the route to the guild, Gray considered walking Juvia to Fairy Hills instead. But remembered he was barred from showing even just his shadow there. His ban has yet to run its course so the guild – the very place they left earlier – was the sensible place to go, especially since he and Juvia were just wearing make-shift coverings that could unravel anytime. They had to avoid crowds.

Gray was deep in thought when a flash of blue caught his eyes. He snapped his head in its direction, eyes widening in awe at what his vision revealed.

“Look Juvia!” He pointed the all-smiling, happily distracted Juvia to a decorated house where three or four children were walking up to its stoop. “It’s you.”

Juvia followed the direction of Gray’s pointing and scanned the surroundings for anything that resembled herself or whatever it was that reminded her beloved of the water-mage. Surely, it must not have been the waving tube decoration, flapping around something that, when you squint your eyes at the right angle, resembled arms. Or the scary-looking life-sized doll made of blue hay, wearing what appeared to be a blow-up replica of Juvia’s hat. That must not be how he saw Juvia, right?

Without receiving an answer to these questions, Juvia was suddenly yanked against Gray’s side. One arm hung over her shoulder; the weight pulled them both down to a crouch like they were hiding. Their cheeks were close, sharing a border, but not touching, not yet at least. They were just close enough for Juvia to feel his breath on her now-flushed cheek when he covertly spoke to her.

“That one. She looks exactly like you.”

Juvia caught herself gawking at him, at Gray’s face which was fully and resolutely turned to the direction where he was pointing her to. She felt slightly guilty about that because one, that wasn’t even the first physical touch they’d shared just counting the ones they had tonight (not the most daring one either); and two, Gray was heartily showing her something. So, Juvia summoned her focus and followed his direction – towards the girl who was giddily jumping at receiving tons of candies into her basket, the kid version of Phantom Lord Juvia. She was donned in Juvia’s blue winter coat, a teru-teru bozu hanging by the clasp of her collar, and a cute Juvia hat merchandise sitting neatly atop her little head.

Juvia felt a pang in her heart. It was her in the rolled hairstyle the water mage got rid of to forget about that version of her. As the little girl skipped down back to the main road, Juvia felt sorry for the little girl. No child should model after her. Back then, she wasn’t her best self. She was strong yet lonely. Isolated by her own rain. Physically attractive yet gloomy that warmth and fun were foreign concepts to her. A smile, a true warm smile, had never even touched her lips. Simply, ugly. If she could only keep that image to herself and tuck it away where no one else could find it, she would have done so.

The Juvia of the present, the Juvia after joining Fairy Tail, after finally being accepted and loved for who she was and who she was not, was unquestionably the best version of herself yet.

But that twinge was pushed away by the slight curve of Gray’s lips. Warm. Affectionate. Proud. He was still looking at that little girl, at kid Phantom Lord Juvia, with eyes full of interest. Never left her figure as she turned around and hollered at the other two girls on the walkway. Her other two friends looked like shrunken versions of other Fairy Tail members, slowed down by their argument about who collected more candies between them.

“There’s Erza and Mira-chan too.” Gray chuckled. “Brings me back.”

Juvia forgot all about her own thinking, dumbfounded by the look on Gray’s face. Even when the curve on his lips was subtle it was also telling. Because Gray could picture so clearly how the actual Erza and Mira-chan, when they were at the same age as those kids, would squabble over the smallest and silliest things. Much like the kids rounding up their group of three with Juvia-chan. His mind flew to that rare moment when all the kids in the guild were huddled up together in an unusually peaceful group waiting out the night. Simply remembering pulled the corners of his mouth into a small smile – not wistful, not longing, just… content.

Before he even thought of it, Gray was already starting on his feet, with Juvia following closely behind and then, naturally, fell beside him. Stepping into the same stride, the same pace as his. Juvia had caught up to him again, naturally. It had been like that between them for years now. Words have become so moot and inadequate. It was as if they were operating on feelings alone. Like it was the only way they could clearly and completely convey their inner thoughts. And so, with no invitation required, Gray and Juvia explored the neighborhood, feasting their eyes at the sight of scattered children in all sorts, shapes and colors of costumes.

The children walked up to houses. Their eyes shone at the treats dropped inside their baskets. Some ran out screaming in terror, receiving childish and mean scares instead of sweet treats. Others gleefully skipped along the side of the road while peeking inside each other’s loots. The two Fairy Tail mages, however, glowed in pride at the insinuation that the kids put Fairy Tail in such high regard to dress up like them, as members of the strongest guild in the whole of Fiore.

Wasn’t it that imitation was the highest form of flattery?

Out of nowhere, Gray and Juvia started a contest of whoever could spot and recognize Fairy Tail look-alikes more. They discreetly point the children to each other – finding a little Lucy with a mermaid Aquarius who can walk on foot in this version, or the entire Lightning God Tribe whose version of Laxus put on some balloons in place of the original’s muscles.

They spotted another Juvia, this one much younger than the first one they saw earlier, around five or six years old maybe, donning polka-dotted leggings. She had a long-haired older boy in her tail, who she addressed as onii-san, carrying her basket for her. It was quite a picture for Gray, the little girl scolding the older kid, who both Gray and Juvia agreed resembled an Iron Dragon Slayer. At least, even in make-belief, Gray got to see Gajeel being ordered around.

They strolled deeper into the neighborhood and found out that the wizard costumes were not limited to Fairy Tail mages. Gray even flinched at a spitting image of a young but much more handsome (in Gray’s biased opinion) Lyon Vastia. But Juvia noted his mood became even livelier when they met the Lyon impersonator, despite Gray-sama’s act and words of displeasure. At that, Juvia hid a chuckle behind her hand, which Gray noticed.

They hadn't walked that far from where they met and were greeted by a polite version of the fire dragon slayer, when Juvia noticed Gray’s mood turn sullen, even if he tried to hide it with a small but dry grin. She ha dan inkling why. They must have seen ten or twenty versions of Natsu but not a single one of the ice-make mage.

Even Juvia wasn’t happy about that.

“Gray-sama…”

“You want to go back?” He jumped in, not liking the way she looked and sounded worried.

Gray already knew what she was about to say. But it seemed he’d rather not talk about it. Respecting his feelings, the water-mage simply returned his smile, hers understanding and much more genuine than his forced one.

“If Gray-sama prefers.”

“Alright then.”

They turned around, about to take the path back to where they started when something round and hard hit Gray right at the stomach.

“Sorry, Oji-san!”

A small boy bumped into him with a force enough to sway Gray but not to make him lose his balance. He first checked that his basket of candies was intact before the little boy with messy black hair beamed up at him, his smile was pulled so wide that his eyes were almost shut. Cheeks all puffed and flushed and chubby and cute.

He probably got away with anything armed with that smile.

“Greige?!”

But like the other kids his age, the boy quickly abandoned the stranger he bumped into and caught up with his friends.

“Wait for me!”

Gray quickly spun around. A seed of hope sprouted within him, urging his feet to move. He wanted to follow the kid and confirm his suspicion but his own logic stopped him, rooting him in his spot. That would have been impossible. How would Greige cross over Earthland? That boy might have been wearing a zipped-up coat with fluffy collar, the same one Gray remembered Greige of Edolas was wearing, but how could he cross over to their world? Impossible.

Hope had sprouted into longing.

“Greige?”

Juvia’s confusion and Gray’s sudden realization that Juvia was still completely unaware of their child’s existence in another world, pulled him out of his reverie.

“Um… I said ‘engage’.” He quickly lied, feeling warmth rise to his cheeks despite the cold October breeze blowing at them. “I thought he was an enemy or somethin’.” Yet even to him, he wasn’t that convincing.

But how was he supposed to tell Juvia he saw a kid who could pass as a doppelganger of the son they would have in the future but who was already existing as the child of Gray Surge and Juvia, a version of them who were already married and lived and breathed in Edolas?

If Juvia knew about their Edolas counterparts, she would sulk all week and demand that they too get married and make a baby. They weren’t at that point in their relationship yet. They haven’t even kissed! Through no fault of Juvia, of course. Even though she had given her consent to it in no limited terms, Gray just didn’t… he just wasn’t… confident enough.

“Let’s go back, Juvia.”

“Oh, okay.”

He wounded a firm arm around Juvia’s shoulder and secured her at his side to stop the water-mage from looking back at the boy who reminded Gray of his future son. He chanced a last glance at him though and decided his hair was too spiky and a shade lighter than the boy in his memory. He was too tall and too animated to be his prim and proper little Greige.

His mind was probably playing tricks on him.

“Greige.” Juvia tested the name on her tongue. She liked the sound of it, she told Gray, making the man sweat a little.

“H-h-hey Juvia, I told you that’s not what I said.”

“He looked a little bit like Gray-sama, didn’t he?”

Gray couldn’t seem to understand, or rather that he couldn’t believe how Juvia’s soft eyes, that loving gaze that seemed to be only directed at him, had always been a source of comfort. He couldn’t at all wrap his head around the phenomenon of her smile shining so bright to the point that it was blinding, yet he was incapable of looking away.

“You think so?”

She just made a sound, a cute little hmm, eyes now glistening with that gentle mix of pride and joy. Gray couldn’t even fathom how Juvia could grow even more beautiful each day.

Gray glanced back at the boy reuniting with his friends, looking for his own qualities in him. Maybe his dark, unruly hair could be attributed to the ice-mage but the little boy was wrapped in a winter coat, and Gray was known for unwrapping himself from any clothing.

No harm in imaging it though, that maybe the little stranger was copying Gray.

He wasn’t.

Gray wasn’t imagining it when the boy with unruly hair pulled his elbows back to form some sort of hand stance. He definitely did not need to humor himself when he heard the kid say “ice-make…” and pretended like magic power was coming out of his open palms and attacked his friends.

Maybe if Gray got over himself…

“Juvia… are you cold?”

“Hmm?”

And step out of that darkness that was holding him back.

“My place…”

Then maybe…

“… is nearby.”

He didn’t need to imagine anything anymore.

“Yes, Gray-sama.”