#she doesn’t removed her makeup before bed and when the next day she just fills it back in and its a mess

[quillkiller]

rita skeeter & womanhood

anyone else ever think about rita skeeters fucked up relationship with femininity and womanhood as if it’s a costume she wears but it just doesn’t fit quite right :/

[dreamperfectarchives]

Sweet Silence

Summary: Dabin makes a bet with his friends without thinking about the consequences and gets into trouble.

Or boys will be boys, Ugh.

Bet!AU | M.List | Word Count: 1.6k

DPR Live x Reader: Angst, fluff, miscommunication, your friends with other khh artists. drama. arguments, men are dumb!

A/N sorry, it's on the shorter side but please enjoy!

How it started;

"If you accept this bet, y/n might not speak to you ever again."

Dabin rolled his eyes.

"He knew you better than anyone, and he believed that you wouldn't break up with him over a bet. Especially since he would explain everything in detail once the bet was over and he had won, proving those guys wrong.

“Okay, you have three days to complete this whole game, so that means no sleeping and no texting your girlfriend,” Ian smirked as he explained the rules to Dabin. “We’ll come into your flat to make sure you’re fed and hydrated, so you don’t die.”

Your boyfriend had a smile on his face, feeling thrilled at the idea of proving his friends wrong and winning the bet. However, he got too caught up in the excitement and forgot to inform you beforehand that he would be gone for three days while the dare was taking place.

“Bring it on, guys!”

He didn’t think that the outcome, in the end, would be so… terrifying. 

How it went; 

“You know what’s weird?” you said as you grabbed a drink out of your fridge. “I haven’t heard from Dabin since last night.” 

Hoody sat comfortably on the floor, intently flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine. Meanwhile, Sohee carefully painted her nails with a deep and rich shade of red.

“He’s probably just hanging out with the guys,” one of them answered. 

The other simply hummed in agreement. 

"Oh, that's a nice colour," you complimented Sohee before sitting next to her on the couch, being careful not to disturb her. "You're probably right, but, weirdly, he's taking so long to text me." 

Hoody closed her magazine over, before grabbing her drink off the coffee table, “you know what you need?” She suggested after taking a sip. “A girls night with us! We can invite Lee Hi and DeVita too.” 

You let out a sigh, the idea did sound like fun. It had been a while since you all hung out together and had a good time. Besides, maybe Dabin needed a break with his friends, just like you needed one with yours.

“Okay,” you agreed. “Let’s do it, but we’re staying in.”

Sohee laughed as she closed the nail polish bottle, “we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The evening was a relaxing and enjoyable one, filled with laughter, good company, and indulgences like wine, face masks, and friendly chatter about relationships. We rearranged the furniture to create a cosy space on the floor, where we could lounge on blankets and pillows and fully unwind.

The thought of your boyfriend not messaging you all day, even after you texted him to ask how he was, was unsettling. It was unlike him to go this long without responding, even when he was with his friends. It just didn't make sense to you.

Was he mad at you? Did you do something wrong? 

A sigh escaped your lips as you finished your drink. Hoody was the only one who stayed after everyone went home. It had been a lovely night, full of laughter and endless fun, but now you were getting annoyed.

You sent another text.

An hour later, still no response.

It was almost 3 am and Hoody was sitting on the couch, scrolling through channels, hoping to find something interesting to watch on TV. As time passed, you seemed to become more and more irritated, letting out a sigh which Hoody took as a sign to turn off the TV and encourage you to go to bed.

While watching Hoody remove her makeup, you asked, "Do you think he's breaking up with me?" as you sat on the edge of the bathtub.

“That boy is completely in love with you,” she scolded, looking at you through the mirror. “Don’t be stupid.”

You laughed at the scowl on her face, “Sorry, it’s just unlike him, you know?”

She nodded. “If he doesn’t text or call you tomorrow, you can be as angry as you want, and I’ll be just as angry with you. Deal?”

“Deal!”

->

After Dabin failed to message or call the next day, you and Hoody sulked and complained about inconsiderate men. She was just as angry as you, she’d promised she would be the night before, you were so thankful for having a friend like her. 

“How can you go two days without messaging the love of your life?” She shouted, throwing popcorn at the TV as the protagonists kissed in the rain. “I’m so pissed off right now.”

You laughed at her sudden outburst, “It’s okay, I've decided to give him the silent treatment until he apologises.”

Hoody seemed to like your idea, and let you know she was only a call away if you needed her before she left as she had work the next day. 

Now, it was just you and your thoughts. 

The day had passed by quickly, as it always did when you were hanging out with your friends. However, now you’d found yourself unsure of what to do. You couldn't even talk to Dabin, as he wasn't talking to you in the first place. Besides, you didn't want to speak to him until he apologised. 

A sigh parted your lips as you stared at the multiple messages you’d sent the night before, how annoying, you thought. 

You started typing out a message, fingers moving swiftly across the keyboard as you let your thoughts pour out, you wanted him to know how he made you feel and what you were going to do about it before muting his messages and tossing your phone to the side. 

On the other hand:

Dabin was clueless about the impact of his actions on your feelings. He was engrossed in his video games and consuming the food that his buddies had brought for him. He convinced himself that he only had to endure one more day, and then he would see you and clarify how he had won the bet.

However, the happiness he had been feeling vanished as quickly as it had come when he saw your recent message. The message read, 'I'm not sure why you're not talking to me, but I know I haven't done anything wrong to deserve this. If this is your way of breaking up with me, then so be it. But at least say something instead of going cold.'

As he tried to call you, the call went straight through to voicemail, and his heart fell through his stomach. You thought he was breaking up with you, and he was now panicking. He couldn't bear the thought of never speaking to you again, and he realised that Ian was right.

This bet was not a good idea. 

He moved quickly, leaving a mess behind as he shoved his shoes on and grabbed his keys to make his way over to your place. The bet wasn't worth winning if it meant losing you. This whole situation was stupid to begin with. 

He arrived at your apartment just before midnight, panting heavily as he knocked on the door, praying for you to answer.

When you opened the door, you appeared annoyed. Your expression grew even more irritated when you saw him standing there. He watched as you crossed your arms and visibly became smaller under your glare.

“What do you want?” You argued. 

He quickly entered the room and closed the door behind him, saying, "I'm here to apologise. It's not what you think."

You stepped back as he tried to reach out to you. "What is it then?" you asked.

“It was a stupid bet–”

"Excuse me, what?!" you interrupted, feeling angrier. 

"It was Ian's idea. He provoked me by saying that I couldn't go three days without texting you or sleeping, and I wanted to prove him wrong," he rambled. "I know it was stupid, and I'm so sorry for putting you through this."

"I can't believe this! Did you really put me through all of this emotional turmoil just for a bet?" You unfolded your arms and settled your hands on your hips, staring at your partner in disbelief. You let out a deep sigh and collapsed onto the couch, feeling defeated. "I honestly thought you were going to break up with me."

Dabin knelt in front of you, taking your hands into his. He kissed the back of each hand and gazed deeply into your eyes. "I am so sorry for what I did," he spoke in a soft tone. "But I promise you, I'm not breaking up with you. Ever! I want to marry you one day. I'm so in love with you."

He could tell you were still upset with him, but the faint smile appearing on your lips told him that the two of you were going to be okay.

“You’ve got a lot of making up to do,” you told him to which he nodded in agreement. “Also, Ian is in a lot, and I mean, a lot of trouble.” 

Dabin laughed at the mischievous grin on your face before jumping onto the couch next to you and pulling you into his arms, “god, I missed you.”

How it ended:

“So, you failed,” Ian smirked.

Dabin shrugged as you walked into the room where he and Ian were sitting, then smiled at you.

“Ian, you are in a lot of trouble,” you said, watching the smirk fall off his lips. “I’m not sure why you’re sitting there so smugly.”

Ian appeared visibly frightened as he contemplated the severity of his situation.

Let's just say your friends had a lot to say.

[lovely-angst]

break ups and break ins

a/n: i didn't have any motivation to continue writing so it stayed in my drafts for forever. it's a super messy fic im not super proud of tbh i wanted to scrap it but i got so far lol

genre: angst to fluff

pairing: hawks x reader

summary: you and hawks break up, but someone breaks in?

word count: 3.7k+

09.16.21

-

"come on, stop being so sensitive," hawks groans with an eye roll as you gawk at him. "you think i'm being sensitive because I'm hurt that you're out there flirting with other girls while we are in a relationship?"

you scoff in disbelief before tears form in your eyes, "i can't believe you right now, keigo."

hawks' brows knit as he stares at you bewildered, "i've already told you that it's just an act i have to out up because of the commission. i can't let them figure out i have a romantic relationship with someone. you don't know what they would do or could do."

"but that doesn't mean you can flirt around with no boundaries!" your voice comes out loud as your arms flail out in front of you, tears streaming down your face, "do you know how much it hurts to see you on television sweet-talking every girl out there when you're my boyfriend? i thought you would respect what we have..."

"(name), just admit you're just jealous of the fangirls and leave it at that," hawks closes his eyes, shaking his head in frustration, "honestly, they appreciate me so much more than you do."

your eyes widen in shock as you feel your heart shattering into tiny pieces so small you aren't sure if you could piece it back up.

"keigo, i love you for who you are—not because you're hawks," your voice now small and laced with hurt. "if you can't see the reason why i am so upset, i think it's best if we end it."

hawks' eyes quickly glance to yours before they look away just as quick, "i think that's what's best too," he whispers, causing your brows to furrow in sadness as you purse your lips tightly.

taking a step forward, you wrap your arms around your now ex-boyfriend, taking in his comforting arms and smell, "thanks for everything." a heavy sigh left from his lips before he nuzzled into you, "can i hold you in bed one last time?"

words died in your throat as you felt the tears sting your eyes once more. a nod was your only reply as hawks lifted the two of you up with his large wings, carrying you into the bedroom.

no words were exchanged as the two of you allowed your quiet breaths to mingle together in silence.

-

your heart was still achey from the fresh break-up as your cries and tears quietly filled the air. your nose and eyes red and raw from all the wiping you had done���the tissues around you as proof.

"hey, come on. you can't keep living like this and expect to get better," mirko says and she stands infront of you with a small smile. "how about we watch something to distract your mind?" she suggests as she turns around to pick up the controller to turn the television screen on.

"hawks, being the number two hero must be so taxing! how do you do it?"

hawks gives that big bright smile you've always loved, "my fans always give me motivation to do my best! i love you my babybirds!"

"oh shit-" mirko quickly turns the television screen off before she turns over to you, watching as your lips quiver before you break out in another crying session.

"rumi," you whine, muffled behind your tissues, "he doesn't care for me at all!" letting out a sigh, she walks over and places a comforting hand on your hair before running her hand through your locks, "hey, don't say that. hawks' cared for you a lot. break-ups happen, but don't let it keep you like this. let's go out and have some fun today, yeah?"

your teary eyes glance up at her before you let out sigh, "okay."

but to your surprise, a quick hour later here you were on a chair getting your makeup done professionally as mirko sat on the couch, munching away on a carrot. "rumi? why am i getting my makeup done professionally?"

"my makeup artist is good at what she does when she beats my face with makeup for those hero galas. i thought it would make you feel better getting your makeup done professionally before we go out and explore the city a bit," she finishes, taking another crunchy bite of her carrot.

a small, "oh" leaves your lips before your attention focuses back on the lipstick that gently glided across your lips. "there, all done. you look great!" the makeup artist cheers as she hands you a mirror.

your eyes sparkled once you saw your reflection—you had never felt so pretty before!

"are you ready to go out now?" mirko asks with a smile as she stands from her seat. you couldn't help the small, yet excited, smile, "yeah."

-

your words had been on repeat in hawks' mind.

you were upset because of how he was treating his fans—flirting with his fans as you put it. it was a constant argument the two of you had and frankly, he was getting tired of it. why you couldn't understand where he was coming from?

he didn't want to break up because of something so trivial, but it seemed like a break up was the only option. but it was fine, his fans kept him going; or that's what he thought was keeping him going.

"hawks! we love you!" his fans cried as he landed down in front of them, his handsome smile swooning everyone lucky enough to get their eye on him. "thanks birdies! i'm always happy to have your support!"

"can i have a picture?" "sign my shirt for me!" "you're the best hero!"

fans; something he enjoyed about being a hero. everywhere he went, they were there to offer him their love and support which he appreciated and loved!

but there often came days when he just wanted to stay cooped in his apartment. away from the world and away from the hero hawks. he simply wanted to escape and enjoy being keigo for a little while.

maintaining a facade took a lot away from him. it was tiring, exhausting even, trying to keep up with how fast his mind was going. a million different things happening at once and hawks had to be able to solve them. a little much for a single guy, don't 'cha think?

landing in at his balcony, hawks let out a heavy sigh as he was finally done with another tiring day of being the number two hero. thankfully, he had the next day off to do, well, nothing.

staring at the dark apartment with a an empty look, hawks let out a groan of exhaustion before unlocking the door and stepping in.

it was quiet, extra quiet these days. since he had gone to living by himself again.

after removing his hero gear, hawks walked into the kitchen and frowned at his lack of food in the fridge. usually, you were always there to greet him with a smile and a hearty dinner after a hard day at work.

well, that didn't matter anymore because you two had broken up, hawks mentally responded to his thoughts.

it seemed like tonight was one of those nights he really missed you.

you made this place feel like home and the more he thought about it, you were his home. he was safe with you and it was okay to let hawks go for the night and just be keigo. you loved him as he came, his flaws and everything. even the emotional baggage!

letting out an exhausted sigh, hawks closed his empty fridge before making his way towards his bed, plopping down with a grunt. "i'll just get a bigger breakfast tomorrow," he noted, pulling out his phone to catch up on his social media for the night.

hawks wasn't expecting to see much on his social media, he's too busy to be checking these sorts of things. today though, he was a little extra bored at home—until he saw a photo of you that mirko shared.

hawks quickly sat up in disbelief. hawks was genuinely confused. you had always been super pretty, but you were extra pretty in this picture. was it because you were no longer his? his eyes glanced over you in the photo for many long minutes as he took in your beauty. you looked so ethereal.

hawks was so thankful for mirko, he would have never stumbled across this photo of you.

the more he smiled at the photo, the more his heart ached. if only he just listened to you more and tried to find a solution to this problem, you would still be with him, in his arms. he was a fool to let you go because he didn't understand your pain. especially when you were always there for him when you couldn't understand his pain.

hawks found himself pulling up that photo of you whenever the days were tough. it never failed to bring a smile to his lips.

until mirko deleted the post.

he should've saved it when he had the chance, hawks thought as he let out a groan upon finding no picture. but, maybe mirko still had it on her phone? thankfully, there was a top five hero meeting that day which meant he could ask mirko about the picture.

hawks sat impatiently in his chair as he drummed his finger against his thigh, counting down the minutes until the meeting would conclude. it must've been distracting, because mirko approached him first after the meeting.

"hey birdbrain, what's up with you? you looked distracted during the meeting," mirko questioned walking up to the winged hero. hawks perked up slightly, before giving her a smile, "hmm? nah, just sick of meetings, wanted to get out." mirko eyed him curiously, "if you say so."

"i saw that picture you posted of (name)," he commented, "you two were hanging out?"

"huh? oh, this picture?" pulling up the picture on her phone, she showed him the photo before pulling away to hawks' dismay. "yeah, we went out. it was about time too! (name) seemed to be enjoying herself, so i'm glad i got to capture that."

hawks couldn't help the smile on his lips knowing that you were happy and could enjoy yourself. he really just wanted you to be happy, even if that wasn't with him.

"if you wanted the photo, you could've just asked," mirko smirks, causing hawks to duck his head down in embarrassment. "but even if you ask, im not giving it to you." Hawks turned his head brows furrowed and confused, slightly offended, "why would you even suggest it then?"

"not sure, maybe it'll be a way to encourage you to find a way to get it."

-

mirko had an interesting way of talking, hawks thought as he continued on with his patrol. it seemed like she was hinting at more than what she was saying, but he wasn't really interested in solving puzzles when he was busy being the number 2 hero.

and boy, was he busy busy.

it felt as if all the villains knew hawks would be out on patrol today, using that to their advatange by stiring up so much more trouble than on a typical day—not that he couldn't handle it, it was just more work that he would have hoped to do that day.

from the sky, he could see a crowd forming below on the streets as they cheered him on for another successful capture. hawks let out an exhausted sigh, but floated down to greet his fans nonetheless. there even happened to be press.

"hawks! you were amazing out there!" "great work! i can always count on you!" "you looked so attractive fighting those villains!"

hawks lifted up his visor and gave the fans a handsome grin, causing a chorus of squeals. hawks glanced at one of the fans near him lips curled in a smirk, mouth ready to open and say a few lines that would send arrows straight to the heart when he subconsciously stopped himself.

closing his mouth, he gave her a gentle smile before a soft reply came out, "thank you for supporting me."

it was weird of him to respond to fans in such fashion, but your words were stuck in the back of his head. he wished he could have acted this way before you two broke it off, it would have saved a lot of heartache.

hawks hoped you would notice his change. and unbeknownst to him, you had.

your eyes were glued to the television that aired the news that also happened to feature your ex-boyfriend, hawks. your heart felt fuzzy as you watched him, he seemed different...more down to earth?

"your eyes haven't left the tv since hawks appeared," mirko comments causing you to avert your eyes embarrassed. "i was just interested in the news for today, that's all," you tried but knew mirko wouldn't buy into your lie.

"yeah, okay. keep telling yourself that," she chuckles as she she sits down beside you. "so, whats going on in that head of yours now?"

"he's different now, rumi," you state, eyes drifting back to the screen. "he's talking to his fans like they're fans." your shoulders slump sadly, "i wish he was like this when we were together...i guess he really doesn't care about me after all."

mirko lets out a grunt as she listens to your moping. turning towards her, you notice her adjusting her purple thigh high socks to sit snugly against her upper thighs, "you have patrol this evening?"

"yep, my turn for an evening patrol. they're not that bad, more bad guys come out at night," she jokes with chuckle but you don't find it funny. "i know you can easily beat them, but that doesn't mean i worry any less for you," you sigh. "stay safe please."

"will do, cry baby," she jokes once more causing you to angrily pout, "i'm not a cry baby!" "says the one crying over hawks. bye!" and with that she quickly leaves out the door before you could throw a pillow at her.

rolling your eyes playfully, you walk over toward the bedroom you shared with mirko. you had a nice futon on the floor beside of her bed that surprisingly was very comfy. organizing her room a bit and folding her clothes she tossed around, you tried to busy yourself until she came back.

which was surprisingly short.

you heard the main door swing open before hearing her move around the living room and kitchen. she must've forgotten something, you thought to yourself as you made your way toward the bedroom door you had previously closed behind you.

"rumi? did you forget something?" you ask as you open the door, just to find yourself staring at the stranger in the apartment who donned a black ski mask with some sort of weapon in their hand. unfortunately your voice had caught their attention and their head quickly turned toward you before bolting it down the hallway for you.

screaming, you quickly shut the door and locked it before the thief could get in. the rattle of the doorknob causes you to let out another shriek as you looked around for a way to protect yourself and to escape.

the only solution that came to your mind was to block the door with whatever heavy furniture mirko had on her room which consisted of her bed, a desk and her clothes drawers. you did your best to block the door, but it was proving to be not enough.

"open the door and i won't hurt you miss," the voice called out and you felt your stomach twist from their words.

you scurried around to look for your phone and thankfully found it amongst this chaos and your body went on auto-pilot and dialed the first person that came to your mind whenever you were in danger.

your shaky hand brought your phone to your ear as you ran into the furthest corner of her room. your free hand covering your trembling lips. please pick up.

"hello? (name)?"

"keigo please help me," you cried quietly so the person on the other side couldn't hear you, but the desperation in your voice was clear as day for hawks. "(name)? whats happening? where are you?" his voice was now firm and laced with worry as you began to sob in through the phone.

"i'm at mirko's and she just left for patrol but someone broke in and i hid myself in her room. i'm so scared, please come quick." and right after he heard you squeak in fear from the unidentified noises through your phone.

"i'm coming right now," you could hear the power his wings had as he lift himself into the sky, "does she have any windows you can exit from?" glancing behind you, you took a mental note that her windows were large enough for you to escape through—the only problem was mirko lived on the tenth floor.

squeezing your eyes shut, you nodded even though hawks could not see you, "yeah, but she doesn't have any escape ladders and i'm on the tenth floor." hawks cursed under his breath on the other side, "just hold on, i'm almost there."

clutching onto your phone, you jumped when the barricade you made against the door was getting tossed around from the force of the stranger on the other side trying to break in. scrambling around, you quickly unlocked the window before opening it, allowing the wind to flow in.

with another jolt from the door all of your barricades flew from the door, leaving it vulnerable. you knew the door would fall with his next move, so with trembling hands, you maneuvered your body outside the window, letting your bottom sit on the window frame.

from a distance, you could hear someone calling out your name. when you narrowed your eyes to focus, all of the stress left your body as you watched them shoot towards you. hawks had come to your rescue!

but hawks wasn't close enough.

the door behind you broke allowing the stranger into the room and before they could grab a hold of you, you jumped.

"(name)!"

as your body free fell down towards the earth, hawks used his wings to give himself one strong push forward before folding his wings tightly behind his back to gain speed to reach you.

reaching his arms out, he caught you in time before shooting back up towards the sky, "that was so stupid of you!" you shouted loudly against the wind, "what if i wasn't there in time?"

glancing up at him, you gave him a small smile, "i just knew you'd get to me in time ."

-

"agh, more paperwork i have to fill out!" mirko groans as she walks around her messy apartment after hawks and her had caught the suspect and had cops take care of him. as she walked away into her bedroom with a line of curses, you quietly turned over towards hawks who had his back facing you. he was on call with the commission.

"yep, i'll get that finished tomorrow," ending his call and stuffing his phone in his pocket, he turns around to find you staring at him. his cheeks flush slightly from the sudden eye contact, but he managed to compose himself. "are you doing alright? that must've been quite the terrifying experience."

"yeah, thanks for picking up. you were the first person i thought to call," you confess and he perks up. "oh yeah?"

"you've always kept me safe and i just really needed you when i was in danger. so thanks," giving him a smile he mirrors you. "of course, anything for you."

your heart flutters from his words, but you slightly turn yourself away, glancing down. you two were no longer dating, so there was no need to get butterflies over him again. "well, thanks again. you must have a busy day tomorrow."

"do you buy any chance still have that photo of you when you were out with mirko?" hawks asks suddenly causing you to glance up at him. "you know, when you two went out a couple weeks ago? you were all dolled up and honestly, just super pretty?" hawks says boldly with a sheepish grin.

"why are you asking?"

"send it my way."

you gawked at him, "you want me to send you a picture of me? we're not dating anymore, that would be weird!" hawks could only shrug, "okay, that's simple then. let's go on a date." you gawked even further, "what is going on inside of that bird brain? all this for a photo?"

"i want to be the one who takes those photos of you. i want to be the reason you get all dolled up. i know i messed up, (name). i've been changing the way i talk to my fans because i understand how i hurt you. could you give me another chance to make it better? i promise i will treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

this was coming too suddenly, your wounds were just starting to heal.

"you...you don't mean that, hawks," you say dejectedly as you back up to sit on mirko's couch. "i'm scared."

"he means it you know?" mirko pops out of the hallway suddenly and stands with her arms crossed against her chest as she stares at the two of you. "he's been asking me for that picture nonstop since he saw it online."

"but he really does love you still, (name) and i know you still love him too. go ahead and give it another shot, i'll be here to kick him to the curb if he does anything bad to you." she encourages, making you glance back towards hawks.

"promise?" your eyes are sparkly from the tears that had glossed over your eyes and hawks gives you a confident nod, "promise. i'll pick you up at six tomorrow?"

you couldn't help your growing smile, "yeah, i'll be waiting."

- e x t r a -

as hawks flew off towards his apartment, the notification ding of his phone went off causing him to take a look. you had sent him a text!

opening the message his eyes widen from the photo you sent, it was the cute pic of you all dolled up!

"i'm so in love!" he shouts loudly in the sky.

[live-the-fangirl-life]

The One After Rowan Says Aelin

The Court - Throne of Glass x FRIENDS - Fic Series

S5, E1 : The court deals with the aftermath of a catastrophic slip-up.

Fic Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Sex

7038 words

*******

“Repeat after me,” instructed the minister, standing before the bride and groom. “I, Rowan…”

“I, Rowan,” the silver-haired man repeated.

“Take thee, Lyria…”

“Take thee, Aelin…”

Shocked gasps spread through the chapel as it took Rowan a moment to realize his mistake. Eyes flying wide, he gripped Lyria’s hand tighter who was staring at him in disbelief.

“Lyria. Lyria.” Rowan emphasized with a forced chuckle.

Stunned, the minister leaned toward Lyria before asking hesitantly, “Shall I go on?”

From her seat a few aisles back, Aelin gaped as she listened to Rowan. He said her name. Her name.

It had to mean something, right? A groom doesn’t just same the wrong name during his wedding for no reason, right? Did he still want her? Love her? Like she loved him?

“He,” Aelin stuttered, leaning forward to whispering the ear of the woman sitting in front of her, “he said Aelin, right? Do you think I should go up there?” The woman didn’t pay her any attention, focused on the scene at the head of the chapel.

The minister was still waiting on Lyria to respond as she tried not to meet the eyes of people looking on with surprise and pity.

“Yes, yes, do go on.” She decided, forcing a calm expression over her humiliation and anger.

The minister nodded and announced, “I think we’d better start again. Rowan, repeat after me. I, Rowan…”

Rowan cleared his throat and said, “I, Rowan,”

“Take thee, Ly-ri-a” the minister dragged out the woman’s name as if speaking to a child.

Rowan shot an exasperated glare at the officiant but looked down at the brunette and repeated, “Take thee, Lyria.” She glared at him and forced another chuckle from his lips as he turned towards the guests and joked, “Like there’d be anybody else.”

Even Aelin cringed at the horrible attempt at humor, but it was no match for the way Lyria was glaring daggers at him.

“As my lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, till death parts us.” The minister continued.

“As my lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, until death parts us.” Rowan leaned in closer, “Really, I do. Lyria.”

People were still muttering as the minister asked for the rings.

“Lyria, place this ring on Rowan’s finger as a symbol of your bond everlasting.”

Rowan flinched as she jammed the ring forcefully onto his finger.

“Rowan, place this ring in Lyria’s hand as a symbol of the love that encircles you forever.”

“Happy to.” He chirped and gave her the ring.

Aelin, and everyone else, watched what seemed to be a train wreck unfolding as the minister declared, “Rowan and Lyria have made their declarations and it gives me great pleasure to declare them husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

People visibly winced as Rowan bent to kiss Lyria and she turned away from him only allowing him to brush his lips against her cheek. She escaped down the aisle, refusing to grab Rowan’s outstretched hand.

Aelin thought she heard Lyria mutter Just keep smiling to Rowan as they passed by.

Fenrys was standing next to Lorcan near the other bridesmaids and groomsmen. He nudged the taller man in the ribs and quipped, “Well, that went well.”

Lorcan glared down at the blond and rolled his eyes, “It could’ve been worse,” he suggested sarcastically, “he could’ve stabbed her.”

***

Aelin stood with Elide, Lorcan, and Fenrys in the lobby of the reception hall as they watched Rowan try to coax Lyria out of the bathroom she’d locked herself in. They could hear her shouting at him through the door.

“You’ve ruined everything!” she called out, furiously, “This is a nightmare! My friends and family are out there! How can I face them? How can you do this me?”

The group cringed as other guests look toward the scene.

Fenrys watched them a moment before asking, “No matter what happens with Rowan and Lyria, we still get cake right?”

Lorcan snorted as Rowan tried to open the door again, “All right Lyr, you take your time sweetie. I’ll be right out here.” He plastered a fake cheerful smile on as he noticed his friends watching him with pity, “She just fixing her makeup.”

“I hate you!” Lyria screamed through the door.

“And, I love you!” he called.

Rowan walked back towards his friends. Fenrys, trying to lighten the mood, teased “Man, bad time to say the wrong name, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows even as Rowan fixed him with an incredulous glare.

“Thanks, Fen,” Rowan muttered as he clipped Fenrys on the back of the head. Then Rowan sighed and looked around at the depressing reception hall and tried to put on a happy face that came across as more of a grimace. “People should be dancing; this is a party!” Rowan whirled back towards Fenrys and urged, “Come on Fen, dance!”

Fenrys looked around at the empty dancefloor and his friends waiting patiently as he tried to dance in the music-less space for a moment before giving up and walking away.

***

Across the room, Lyria’s mother answered her ringing phone.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“Uh, hello, this is Rowan Whitethorn’s personal physician, Dr. Shifter.”

In New York, Lysandra cringed at the obviously fake accent she was attempting but pushed forward. After making Fenrys keep his phone on during the wedding ceremony and hearing Rowan’s horrible fumble, she was trying to help them fix the situation. To her and Aedion’s disappointment, they couldn’t attend the wedding due to Lysandra’s pregnancy; she was due any day now and was instructed not to fly. So, she’d have to help with damage control from across the pond.

“Who?” the older woman asked.

“Yes,” Lysandra insisted, deepening the ridiculous accent, “I’ve discovered Rowan forgot to take his…” she trailed off and Aedion prompted brain medicine, “brain medicine.” She winced at how horrible of an excuse that was, “uh, now without it, uh, in the brain of Rowan, uh women’s names are interchangeable, through…through no fault of his own.”

Lyria’s mother sighed, exasperated, “Oh my Gods, Lysandra.”

Lysandra winced again, her fake accent was as horrible as she thought.

“No, not Lysandra, Dr. Shifter.” Lysandra insisted and then exclaimed, “Oh no! You have it, too!”

The next thing Lysandra heard was the dial tone as the woman hung up.

***

Elide stood by the buffet table, filling her plate when she felt Lorcan come up next to her.

“Hey,” He said in a low voice.

She glanced up at him to find him already looking at her, “Hi.”

He looked apologetic, almost nervous, in a way he normally wasn’t, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Wow, uh, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but, I know we had plans to meet up tonight and,” he stumbled over his words again as they both flashed back to the night before.

Lorcan opened the door to his hotel room to see Elide standing there.

“Hey, El, what’s up?” he stepped aside to let her in. Lorcan watched as she looked around the room, identical to her own, he was sure, and turn to face him.

He blamed it on the jetlag and the craziness of the day, but he couldn’t stop himself from admiring her. She was beautiful, and intelligent, and funny. She was also one of his best friends. Normally, he pushed down any feelings that weren’t ‘best friend’ feelings—feelings that made him want to throw caution to the wind and kiss her.

“Hey,” she said, looking at him through her lashes. “Is Fenrys here?”

Lorcan shook his head and saw relief flash across her face as he said, “Last time I saw him, he was heading out the door with that one bride’s maid and a bucket of strawberries.”

Elide raised a brow and snorted. “Sounds about right.”

He hummed in agreement, “You okay? You’re not still thinking about what that idiot told you, are you?”

That idiot being the stumbling, drunk man who’d bumped into Elide, spilled half his drink on her, looked at her and then her dress that she adored, and declared the stain an improvement, before walking away and leaving her to replay the insult in her head.

She snorted again, but it lacked any amusement. “What? You mean the jibe about how I looked better covered in scotch?” she sighed and looked away, “Whatever. I was obviously wrong about this dress.”

She looked down, but he grunted his disagreement, making her glance back up.

“What?” She questioned, confused at the look he was giving her.

“Ignore him,” Lorcan insisted, “I mean, you were the most beautiful person in the room tonight.” He told her, immediately wishing he hadn’t said that because that didn’t sound like a ‘best friend’ feeling.

But, instead of looking at him weirdly, she stepped closer and her eyes were…hopeful?

“Really?”

He cleared his throat but closed the distance between them, “Are you kidding? You’re the most beautiful woman in most rooms.”

Elide surged forward and kissed him.

It was perfect, it was Elide, it was—

“Whoa,” Lorcan pulled back and stared at her in disbelief, “What’s going on? You and I just kissed! You and I are kissing?” his brain couldn’t catch up.

“Well, not anymore.” She mumbled.

He searched her face, “How drunk are you?”

She offered him a smile, “Drunk enough to know that I want to do this. Not so drunk that you should feel guilty about taking advantage.”

Even through her quip, he could see the sincerity, and something else, something he couldn’t pinpoint, in her eyes.

“That’s the perfect amount!”

Then their lips connected again, and hands were moving, and suddenly they were on the bed.

Elide leaned back and Lorcan hovered over her as she broke away and said, “You know what’s weird?”

“What?” Lorcan trailed kisses down her neck and she shivered.

“This doesn’t feel weird.” She breathed.

He removed his mouth from her skin and looked into her face. She was right, this didn’t feel weird. It felt right.

Grinning, they both leaned back in and enjoyed a very satisfying night.

The next morning, Elide woke up in a hotel room with a large, warm body pressed against her. She smiled, thinking about what she and Lorcan did. And did. And did. Turning in his arms, she found he was already awake and watching her.

“Good morning” she yawned

He smirked, “G’morning.”

They spent who-knows-how-long lazily kissing until a loud knock sounded at the door.

Panicking, Elide’s wide eyes met Lorcan’s and she ducked beneath the covers just as Rowan barged into the room.

“I’m getting married today!” she heard from her position tucked into Lorcan’s side, the blankets soon becoming suffocating.

Lorcan’s hand snuck under the cover to rest in her hair as he slumped down in the bed, trying to make it less obvious that Elide was there. “Morning, Whitethorn.”

Elide heard Rowan close the door as he left and she popped back up, her hair in complete disarray, as she glanced at a now smirking Lorcan “Do you think he knew I was here?”

She’d left to get ready for the ceremony soon after that. Just before she needed to get to her seat, Lorcan casually found her and pulled her aside. Clearing this throat, he said, “What we did last night was...” he trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“Stupid.” She offered.

“Totally stupid.” He agreed, nodding.

“What were we thinking?” She asked, fixing the sleeve of her dress.

They lapsed into silence a moment, neither looking at the other, before Lorcan asked, “I’m coming over tonight though, right?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Elide confirmed and subtly winked as she walked to her seat.

Lorcan kept talking, drawing them both back into the present, “I’m kind of worried about what it might do to our friendship.”

Elide sighed, “I know,” She glanced around and asked him worriedly, “How could we have let this happen?”

She didn’t regret the previous night, if anything, it was the fact that she didn’t regret it that alarmed her. She valued her friendship with Lorcan so much and hoped that whatever this was didn’t mess that up. Even though they both seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves, a fact she was reminded of as he added, “Seven times.”

She allowed a smirk and she saw it mirrored on his own mouth.

“Well, you know, we were away…” She tried to justify.

Lorcan nodded eagerly, “In a foreign, romantic country…”

Elide hummed in agreement, “I blame London.”

“London,” Lorcan grunted disapprovingly.

They looked at each other for a long moment before Elide said, “So um, while we’re still in London,” Elide watched as Lorcan raised a brow, waiting for her to continue, “I mean, we can keep doing it right?”

Lorcan suppressed a grin. “Well, I don’t see that we have a choice. But, when we’re back home, we don’t do it.”

Elide nodded, though part of her didn’t want to think that far ahead, “Only here.”

Lorcan stepped closer to her, towering over her shorter frame, “You know, I saw a wine cellar downstairs—”

“I’ll meet you there in two minutes.”

Elide didn’t miss the wide smirk he flashed her before he disappeared around the corner.

She counted to one hundred and was just about to follow Lorcan out when Aelin rushed up to her side.

“El, I have to ask you something,” Aelin said desperately.

As much as Elide loved Aelin and wanted to help her, she knew Lorcan would be in the wine cellar now waiting for her to join him.

“Now?”

Aelin didn’t catch the impatience in Elide’s question. “El, Rowan said my name up there. I mean, come on, I can’t just pretend that didn’t happen, can I?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” This was definitely a conversation she wished they were having any other time.

Aelin urged Elide for advice, “Elide, what should I do?”

“Just, uh, do the right thing.”

“What?” Aelin asked, clearly upset Elide wasn’t giving her her full attention.

Normally, Elide would be offering advice and suggestions, making sure Aelin didn’t do something too insane, but at the moment she couldn’t keep her mind from wandering back to the night before and the feel of Lorcan’s hands on her, as she babbled, “Toe the line, thread the needle, Think outside the box!”

Elide tried slipping away but Aelin stopped her again, “Whoa, wait,” Aelin sighed, “I think I’m just going to talk to Rowan about what he thinks it meant.”

Elide halted and turned back towards her friend. “Aelin, wait” the blonde met her eyes, and Elide said regretfully, “No, he’s married. Married. If you don’t realize that, I can’t help you.”

Aelin closed her eyes and nodded, “Okay, you’re right,” as Aelin opened her eyes Elide offered a small, sad smile. Her smile dropped as Aelin whipped around and finished, “You’re right, you can’t help me.”

Elide rolled her eyes but finally left to find the wine cellar. She wandered for a little while before she found the cellar, but no Lorcan.

Making her way back to the reception hall, she saw him back at the refreshment table.

“Where were you?” she hissed, “We were supposed to meet in the cellar.”

“Forget it, that’s off.” He told her under his breath.

“Why?” Elide asked incredulously

Almost as if he heard her question, Lyria’s very drunk father wandered into the hall and slurred loudly, “The next tour of the wine cellar will plan in two…in two minutes.”

Elide cringed and shared a nod with Lorcan as Fenrys walked up to them with a large steak on his plate.

“Fen,” Elide demanded, “what are you doing? You promised Lysandra you wouldn’t eat meat until she had the baby!”

Lysandra, ever the animal lover, had been a vegetarian for as long as Elide had known the woman. To Lysandra’s horror, one of her pregnancy cravings was meat, and as much as she tried, she couldn’t help but give in. After an almost meltdown, Fenrys offered to abstain from eating meat for the duration of her pregnancy so that she could and, as Lysandra’s argument, no additional animals would be harmed. When Elide tried to question why Fenrys was doing this and not, say, Aedion, Aedion cut her off before Lysandra could hear the suggestion.

Fenrys looked between Elide and his steak, “Well, I figured we’re in another country, so it doesn’t count.”

Elide met Lorcan’s eyes and they shared a secret grin

“That’s true,” she conceded.

“The man’s got a point,” Lorcan agreed.

***

Aelin found Rowan hovering outside the bathroom door.

“Hey,” she said gently.

He startled but offered her a small, strained smile, “Hi.”

“Sorry things aren’t working out so well.” Aelin winced, unable to think of anything better to say.

Rowan shook his head and forced a laugh, “Oh no! It could be better,” he nodded and then looked towards her anxiously and asked, “but’s going to be okay, right?”

Aelin hated this. She hated having to stand here with the man she was desperately in love with and reassure him that his marriage to another woman would be alright. And as much as she honestly doubted it—because what woman wants to hear her fiancé say another woman’s name at the alter—Rowan was first, and foremost, her friend.

“Oh yeah!” She said as cheerfully as she could manage, “Of course, I mean, she’d gonna get over this, you know?” Aelin hoped not but refrained from saying that given Rowan’s dejected face. “I mean, so you said my name, you probably just said it because you saw me there. If you’d have seen a hawk in the window, you would’ve said, ‘I take thee, hawk.’

She internally cringed but Rowan nodded, reassuring himself.

Aelin went on, “You know it didn’t mean anything, it was just a mistake.” She pressed closer and allowed a sliver of hope to show in her eyes as she asked again, hoping he would disagree with her, “It didn’t mean anything, right?”

After a second’s hesitation that she may have just imagined, Rowan’s brows furrowed and he insisted, “No! No, of course, it didn’t mean anything.” He glanced towards the door then back to Aelin. “I mean, I can understand why Lyria would think it meant something, you know, because…because it’s you…” he trailed off and Aelin briefly saw highlights of their relationship flash before her eyes.

The museum dates, the love confessions, the times with their friends. She saw them break apart and mend back together. She saw a new friendship bloom, and her own feelings of love resurface even as he found happiness somewhere else.

She cleared her throat, bringing herself back to the moment, “Right.”

Stepping closer to the closed door, Rowan yelled “It didn’t! It didn’t mean anything!”

Aelin was prevented from saying something stupid as Fenrys approached and told Rowan, “Rowan, hey man, the band’s ready outside for your first dance with Lyria,” Fen trailed off as Rowan glared at him.

“Oh, oh, the band’s ready?” Rowan asked with fake interest. “Well, I—we have to do what the band says,” he whirled on Fenrys and shouted, “I don’t care about the stupid band!”

Fenrys shot Rowan an annoyed glace and wiped his face, “You spit on me, man.”

Rowan muttered a sorry before Fenrys asked, “Lyria is kind of taking a long time, huh?”

A memory surfaced in Aelin’s mind and she laughed, “You know, when I locked myself in the bathroom at my wedding,” she paused as the horrid image of Arobynn appeared but faded away as she looked back at Rowan, “it was because I was trying to pop the window out of its frame.”

The guys chuckled at the thought of Aelin maneuvering an outrageous wedding dress through a window.

“Had to get the hell out of there, you know?” she chuckled, too, before all three of them abruptly stopped and whipped their heads around to the bathroom door.

Oh shit.

“Lyria!” Rowan banged on the door, “Lyria, I’m coming in.”

Rowan threw the door open and he, Fenrys, and Aelin took in the empty bathroom, open window, and curtain flying in the wind.

“Well, look at that,” Aelin observed, “same thing.”

***

Elide and Lorcan escaped the reception hall amidst the chaos of a missing Lyria. They hastily made it to Elide’s room, hands clasped the entire way as Lorcan pulled her down the hall.

Laughing, she opened the door, fully ready to haul Lorcan towards the bed, but froze as she caught sight of Aelin sitting on her bed.

“Oh my Gods, Aelin! Hi.” Elide yelped, feeling Lorcan stumble into her as he froze, too.

He cleared his throat, “Oh, hey Aelin.” The fake calm tone he used to mask his irritation sounded too high for his ears, enough so that Aelin raised a brow at him before shaking her head and dismissing him.

Aelin didn’t wait for either of them to say another word as she exclaimed, “Rowan said my name. Okay?” She moved to sit on the edge of the bed with a slightly frantic look in her eye. “My name. Rowan said my name up there, that obviously means that he still loves me!”

Aelin looked back and forth between Elide and Lorcan desperately hoping one of them would validate what she said, but they stared at her in silence. She rolled her eyes and huffed a breath, “Fine, don’t believe me. I know I’m right.” She pointed a finger at the pair before running a hand through her hair, “Do you guys want to go downstairs and get a drink?”

At her inquisitive stare Lorcan said, “Yes, we do,” and as Elide shot him a look, he added, “But, we have to change first.”

Elide nodded vigorously, “Yes, I want to change. Why don’t you go down and get us a table?”

Aelin looked at her weirdly, but nodded as Elide told her, “We’ll be down in ten minutes.”

Lorcan subtly squeezed her shoulders and corrected, “twenty minutes.”

Lorcan didn’t miss the quick, approving look Elide shot him, or the subtle wink that Aelin was too preoccupied to notice.

The blonde hummed in agreement and grabbed her bag, “Okay, sure.”

Just as Aelin was about to leave, the phone at the bedside table started ringing. Answering, she asked, “Hello?”

Lorcan stifled an irritated groan.

“Oh Lys!” Aelin faced Elide and Lorcan as she settled down into the bed, “It’s Lysandra.”

���Great,” Elide mumbled and forced a smile as Lorcan didn’t hold back his next annoyed grunt.

Ignoring Aelin’s conversation and taking advantage of her distraction, Lorcan leaned down to say into Elide’s ear, “Hey, why don’t we go change in my room?”

She turned towards him with her brows furrowed, “But my clothes are—” her brows shot up as she caught the dark gleam in his eye, “Oh.”

At her answering smirk, he grabbed her hand and pulled her from the room.

***

Once Lorcan made sure Fenrys wasn’t in their shared room, he pulled Elide inside and locked the door.

His hands gripped her hips, pulling her towards him as her hand found its place in the collar of his shirt before wrapping around his neck and pulling him for a searing kiss.

Lorcan wound a hand in her hair and pulled back enough to look at her in her dress, “El, you look—”

She smirked, but said, “No time for that,” and went back to trying to get his shirt off. Their hands roamed each other’s bodies hungrily until a loud knock sounded at the door.

They pulled away as Fenrys’ voice called out, “Hey, dude,” Lorcan closed his eyes and released a slow breath, trying to reign in his fraying temper, “let me in. I’ve got a girl out here!”

Lorcan swore as he heard giggling from the hallway, and glanced at Elide whose hair was now fluffed from where his hands had run through it, and her dress that was scrunched at her hip.

“Well, I’ve got a girl in here.”

Fenrys scoffed, “No you don’t, I just saw you go in there with Elide.”

Elide huffed and Lorcan said through gritted teeth, “Well, we’re…we’re hanging out in here.”

“Look,” Fenrys insisted again, “Which one of us is gonna be having sex in there, me or you?”

It took all of Lorcan’s willpower not to reach through the door at throttle Fenrys as he growled menacingly, “I guess I’d have to say you.”

***

Realizing that neither of their rooms were going to grant them any privacy, Elide and Lorcan went to the one place they knew wouldn’t be occupied tonight.

The honeymoon suite.

“Do you really think this is okay?” Elide asked. As much as she wanted to rip Lorcan’s clothes off and climb on top of him, she suddenly felt guilty about using Rowan and Lyria’s suite. Not that they would be using it.

As if hearing her thoughts, Lorcan muttered, “Well, Rowan and Lyria aren’t gonna use it.”

“I know, I just—” she bit her lip and looked around, “I don’t know if I feel right about this.”

Lorcan stopped trying to remove the excruciating number of throw pillows and walked towards elide. “El, El, El,” he murmured, grabbing her face in his hands, “this is the honeymoon suite.”

“Exactly.” She retorted.

He rolled his eyes, “This room expects sex.” He chuckled at her raised brow but said, “The room would be disappointed if it didn’t get sex. All of the other honeymoon suites would think it was a loser.”

She snorted, “You’re an idiot.” The insult did have any of her usually bite.

He grinned, “Maybe, but I’m an idiot you want to fuck. And now we have an unoccupied room.”

Elide rolled her eyes but grinned back, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

They’d just reached the bed when the door flew open and Lorcan barely contained a long string of curses.

“Lyria?” Rowan called, his eyes scanning the room.

Elide shot Lorcan a look and asked Rowan, “You haven’t found her?”

Rowan groaned, “No, I’ve looked everywhere!”

Lorcan, very helpfully, responded, “Well, you couldn’t have looked everywhere or else you would’ve found her!”

Elide almost pitied Lorcan for being on the end of Rowan’s glare.

“I think you should keep looking,” she suggested, drawing Rowan’s attention back.

“Yeah,” Lorcan nodded, “for about thirty minutes.”

“Or forty-five,” she quickly suggested.

Lorcan’s eyes flashed to hers and a wicked gleam shown there as he said to Rowan, without taking his eyes off her, “in forty-five minutes you could find her a few times.”

Elide grinned but quickly schooled her features as Rowan turned back in her direction.

“No,” Rowan insisted, sitting down heavily on the bed, “For all I know, she’s trying to find me but couldn’t because I kept moving around. No, from now on, I’m staying in one place. Right here.”

Elide nodded, “Well, it’s getting late.” She shot a look at Lorcan and he quickly followed her to the door.

“Yeah,” he added, “we’re gonna go.”

“Actually, do you guys mind staying here for a while?” Rowan asked, looking pitiful and so unlike his usual self.

“We have to get up early and catch that plane for New York,” Lorcan argued.

Rowan sighed, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Elide stared at Rowan a moment and had an internal battle with herself. Should she be a good friend and support Rowan when he’s upset and hurting…or should she escape and have the best sex of her life.

Groaning at her apparent conscious, she glanced at Lorcan and tried to convey that they weren’t about to skip out now. He sighed heavily but nodded almost imperceptibly.

“But,” he said through gritted teeth, “we’ll stay here with you.”

Rowan visibly brightened. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate this.”

***

They stayed like that for hours, Rowan eventually falling asleep across both Lorcan and Elide, keeping them in place and awake despite their exhaustion, desire, and exasperation.

Lorcan groaned and dragged a hand down his face, “We have to leave for New York in an hour.”

Elide sighed, “I know,” she glanced at Lorcan and then at the doors to the suite. “I’ve been eyeing those doors; they look pretty soundproof, don’t you think?” she asked hopefully.

Lorcan winced, “We can’t do that that’s insane. I mean ‘A’ he could wake up,” his eyes flicked down to Rowan who was totally passed out, then back to her, “and ‘B’ you know, let’s go for it.”

She grinned and they both tried to carefully remove themselves from Rowan until a knock pounded and Rowan shot up and stumbled off them.

“Lyr? Lyria?” He asked, still half asleep, “Lyria?” Rowan ran out of the room and through the suite to fling the door open. It wasn’t Lyria, just her parents.

Her mother leveled a look at Rowan, “No, You can forget about Lyria, she’s not with us. We’ve come to get her things”

“Wait,” Rowan stammered, “where—where is she?”

“She in hiding,” her father answered, “She’s utterly humiliated. She doesn’t want to see you ever again.”

“Hey, you guys, check this out, a whole cart was just left—" Aelin sauntered in with tiny bottles of hair products in her hands but froze as she looked between Rowan, Lyria’s parents, Elide, and Lorcan.

“Goodbye, Whitethorn.” Lyria’s father said

“Hold on!” Rowan insisted, stopping the parents from leaving, “Look, your daughter and I are supposed to leave tonight for our honeymoon, now you,” he took another breath, “you tell her that I’m gonna be at that airport and I hope that she’ll be there too.”

Rowan ran a frustrated hand through his hair, making the ends stick up, and explained, “Yeah, I said Aelin’s name, but it didn’t mean anything, okay?”

Aelin tried her best not to let her shattering heart show on her face as she slumped into a seat at the back of the room.

He continued, “She’s just a friend and that’s all!”

She knew Rowan wasn’t trying to hurt her, Hellas, he had no idea that she was still in love with him—he was just trying to get his wife back. Gods. His wife. How could Aelin be so stupid?

She felt Elide and Lorcan sink into the chairs next to her and Elide’s subtle, comforting hand on her back.

“She’s just afraid,” Rowan kept saying, “Now just tell Lyria that I love her and that I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else. Please, promise me that you’ll tell her that.”

Aelin blocked out any other conversation.

***

Elide was tired. She was exhausted from staying up all night having to deal with distressed grooms, interrupting friends, and runaway brides—if she was being honest, Elide wasn’t all that upset over the last one. She kind of hated that Rowan married Lyria, she’d never gotten a good vibe from the woman, not to mention everything that was still between Rowan and Aelin…

Sitting next to Lorcan on their flight home, she leaned in close to rest her shoulder against his arm and smiled a bit as he turned towards her.

“You know,” she said, “maybe it’s best that we never got to do it again.”

He made a noise of agreement even if she could’ve sworn she saw disappointment in his eyes.

“Yeah, it makes that one ti—night special, I guess” He almost said time but corrected himself because they did it way more times than just fucking once. A smirk played at his lips as realized, “Technically, El, we are still over international waters.”

Her eyes lit up and she grinned as she maneuvered out of her seat and told him, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, maybe I’ll see you there?” She asked coyly. Elide had taken half a step before turning back with a worried glance at him, “Airplane bathrooms are tiny, are you going to fit?”

Lorcan leaned back and smirked fully, “I’ll fit.”

She scoffed at the way his eyes darkened—it was obvious he wasn’t talking about the bathroom—but walked back there anyway.

He leaned over to watch her walk away and caught her sly wink as she slipped into the bathroom, before facing forward and coming face to face with Fenrys who’d taken Elide’s seat the moment she was gone.

“Gods,” Lorcan jumped, “what?”

“Can I ask you something?” Fenrys asked, oblivious to the growing anger emanating for Lorcan at another instance of being interrupted from his time with Elide.

“No,” Lorcan grunted and was about to get up when Fenrys grabbed his arm and dove into a conversation that Lorcan entirely blocked out.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there desperately wanting to meet Elide but being trapped in a mindless one-sided conversation, his only reprieve being the small liquor bottles he’d charged to Fenrys’ ticket.

Fenrys suddenly stopped talking as he glanced over Lorcan’s shoulder. Turning, Lorcan winced as he met the livid eyes of Elide

“Elide,” Fenrys commented, “wow, you’ve been in the bathroom for like a half-hour.”

Elide’s eyes narrowed further and Lorcan tried to look apologetic as she bit out, “I. Know.”

***

When Elide, Lorcan, and Fenrys arrived back at their building Lysandra and Aedion were waiting for them in Elide’s apartment.

After the hellos and hugs, Lysandra stepped back and narrowed her at Fenrys.

“You ate meat!” She accused.

Then she turned towards Lorcan and Elide who watched her with wide eyes, “You had sex!”

They sputtered, “No we didn’t!”

Lysandra scoffed at Lorcan, “I know you didn’t, you have the personality of a shoe, who would want to hook up with you?” She gestured at Elide, “I was talking about Elide.”

Elide forced a laugh, “What? Lysandra, I did not have sex.” Elide brushed off the claim as Aedion gave her a funny look.

Lysandra shook her head and sighed, “This pregnancy is throwing me all off.”

Lysandra and Aedion said their goodbyes, and then Fenrys walked across the hall to his own apartment, leaving Lorcan and Elide standing in Elide’s kitchen.

“Well, we certainly are alone.” Elide said, unnecessarily.

Lorcan nodded, “Yeah, uh, good thing we have that, ��Not in New York’ rule.”

She hummed noncommittally.

“Listen, I uh,” Elide tried to put her scrambling thoughts into words, “I just—that night meant a lot to me, I guess I’m just trying to say thanks.”

Lorcan cleared his throat and stepped closer to her, “Oh, yeah, you know,” She looked up as he stumbled over his words, “that night meant a lot to me too.”

They stared at each other for another long moment before Lorcan nodded at the door and said, “All right, I gotta go unpack.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.” She watched him leave and waited to hear the door across the hall open, but the click of the door handle never came.

Lorcan stalked back in and slammed her door behind him.

“I’m still on London time, does that count?” He asked wildly

Elide was already flinging herself at him, “That counts!”

Then she wrapped her legs around his hips as he lifted her and carried her into her bedroom.

***

Aelin was making another lap around the airport, hoping to hear some updates about her flight. In her mad dash to show up at Rowan and Lyria’s wedding, she had bought the first ticket she could to London and hadn’t worried about her return flight. She didn’t think it would be such a struggle to fly home.

“Aelin!” A deep, familiar voice called out.

She stopped and turned to see Rowan sitting alone in an almost deserted waiting area.

“Rowan, hi.”

He stood up and met her halfway, his face scrunched in confusion “What are you, uh what are you doing here?”

“Oh, well,” she adjusted her bag on her shoulder and flashed him a smile, “I’ve been on standby for a flight home for hours. I’ve become very familiar with the airline staff.”

He nodded

“So,” she glanced around, “no sign of Lyria, huh?

“Not yet.” Rowan shook his head.

“What time are you supposed to leave?”

As if on cue, the speakers crackled as an announcement called, “This is the last call for Flight 1066 to Athens. The last call.”

Rowan made a face and answered her, “Pretty soon I guess.”

Despite her feelings about Lyria, the very last thing Aelin wanted was to see Rowan so dejected and heartbroken.

“I’m sorry,” she said as gently as she could.

He sighed and sat back down as Aelin took the seat across from him

“I just, I don’t understand,” He scrubbed his face with his hands, “I mean, how can she do this? You know, am I… am I like a complete idiot for thinking that she’d actually show up?”

“No, you’re not an idiot, Rowan. You’re a guy very much in love.��� Aelin sighed.

He snorted, “Same difference”

She cracked a smile and he matched it.

The voice over the speaker rang out again, “All ticketed passengers for Flight 1066 to Athens should now be on board.”

“I get it!” Rowan snapped at the invisible voice, then sighed again, “Well, that’s that.”

Aelin couldn’t watch this anymore. “No, you know what, I think you should go.”

“What?”

His face snapped up and Aelin looked into his earnest, pine green eyes as she told him, “Yeah,” she nodded, “I think you should go, by yourself, get some distance, clear your head, I think it’d be really good.”

He looked skeptical but Aelin thought she saw an ounce of relief. “I don’t—I don’t know.”

He looked at the gate attendant still at the check-in desk and Aelin knew he wanted to.

“Come on Rowan, I think it would be really good for you,” She urged, hoping the trip would make him feel better and he would come back seeming more like himself—like the Rowan she knew.

He was nodding, trying to convince himself, “Yeah,” he eventually said, “I can do that.”

“Yeah!” Aelin agreed, trying to hype him up.

Rowan grabbed his bag and looked back at her, still frustrated, “I can’t even believe her,” he chanced another glance around the terminal as if Lyria would materialize in front of him, “No, you know what, I am, I’m going to go.”

“Good!”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Right!”

“Right.” Rowan took another step before turning to face her once more, “Thanks, Aelin.”

She smiled at him, glad that he was getting some of his happiness back that had abandoned him the previous day.

“Okay,” she said again and opened her arms to give him a hug he enthusiastically returned. “I’ll see you back at home if I ever get a flight out of here,” she huffed and began to turn away.

“Well...no, never mind.” Rowan shook his head, dismissing whatever he was about to say.

Aelin tilted her head, she scrunched her brows in confusion as he gave her a sheepish grin, “What?”

Rowan looked between her and the gate attendant, “Why don’t you come?” at her shocked silence he plowed on, “I—I have two tickets,” he waved them in front of him, still wearing that boyish smile she loved so much, “Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she trailed off. Aelin wanted nothing more than to say yes, but Rowan was offering her the second ticket on his honeymoon trip for gods’ sake. But as she kept looking into his hopeful face, she felt her resolve and guilt crumbling. “Really?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’ll be great,” he insisted, handing her one of the tickets. “You can lay on the beach and read, and I can cry over my failed marriage,” he chuckled, “See? Already making jokes.” the smile he forced was more of a grimace.

“Rowan, I—”

“No, really,” Rowan stepped up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She tried not to lose focus as she felt his warmth sink into her. “Please, Aelin,” he said, looking more vulnerable than she’d seen him all weekend. “Gods, I could use a friend right now, and you’re one of the best.”

“Wow,” Aelin took a breath. She could accept. She could go to Greece with Rowan for a week and support him and enjoy herself. “Okay. Uh, yeah, yes! Yes, I can do that.”

“Really?” his smile widened and so did hers.

“Really.”

They walked to the gate attendant and handed her their tickets. After a disapproving glare for their timing, she opened the door and waved them through.

Rowan readjusted his bag and paused, “Oh, wait, I forgot my jacket. You go on, I’ll be right there.”

Aelin flashed him a happy smile and nodded, walking onto the plane.

Rowan quickly jogged back where he’d been sitting, picked up his jacket, straightened, and met the eyes of his runaway bride.

“Lyria.” he breathed.

She looked between him and the gate looking distraught and Rowan realized that she must have seen Aelin go onto the plane. His eyes flared, understanding that Lyria must have thought everything with he and Aelin had been intentional. And it wasn’t. It wasn’t...right?

She scoffed and made to turn away, but he stammered, “Oh no, no, no, no! No!, Lyria!” He frantically looked between Lyria’s retreating figure and the gate that Aelin had walked through to the plane where she was waiting for him.

Cursing every god he knew, he chased through the airport after his wife.

***

Aelin enjoyed first class. She didn’t fly it often, but when she really wanted to treat herself, she would. This flight was no different than she remembered. She settled into the seat, keeping the window spot open for Rowan, and ordered them both a drink from the flight attendant. She figured they could both use one after this insane weekend.

Glancing out the window, Aelin noticed that the airport appeared to be moving.

She jolted in her seat. The airport wasn’t moving. She was. The plane was.

The plane was leaving, and Rowan wasn’t on it.

“Oh, my Gods,” Aelin muttered in disbelief as she sat on a plane departing for what should’ve been Rowan and Lyria’s honeymoon. “Oh, my Gods.”

*****

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[rowanaelinn]

Fire on Fire - Chapter Eight

Chapter seven // Chapter nine

Warnings: suicidal thoughts.

It’s kinda rushed but it kinda fits with today’s prompt for rowaelin month! next chapter is going to be way longer :)

————

Rowan took a piece of towel and used it to remove the foam from his client's leg, revealing a tattoo he had been working on for four long hours.

It was a large bouquet of flowers, each one a different color to represent a member of the client's family, with writing in the Old Language with their names.

“Here it is,” He told her, holding a mirror above her leg so she could see all the details. Her smile grew as she took in her tattoo. It was one of his favorite parts of his job, the emotion on their face. He loved to be able to bring such feelings to the people he worked on.

“I love it.” She said and Rowan only nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. He put away his equipment, throwing away the little pots of ink that he hadn't quite finished while his client left, thanking him, before going to sign the last papers at the counter. When he finished, Rowan joined her and gave the invoice to Remelle, their assistant.

He left to clean up his workroom before entering the break room, heading straight to the fridge to take out his food. He had spent an hour yesterday cooking pasta, chicken and cutting up his favorite vegetables to make a salad. Cooking had always helped him to keep his mind busy and these last days it was more than necessary.

A few minutes after Rowan settled down at the round table in the middle of the room, fork in hand and his dominant hand busy holding an Apple Pencil while he multi-tasked eating and drawing for his appointments, Gavriel entered the room.

Rowan tried not to stare at him, exactly as he had done all week. But today it was more complicated as Gavriel sat down next to him, getting his full attention. He tried with all his might to concentrate on the drawing in front of him, but the temptation was too strong. "How's..." He cleared his throat, the words hard to come out. "How's Aelin?"

He avoided any eye contact, his eyes fixed on the tablet even if his drawing hadn’t progressed in the last ten minutes. He hated the feeling of worry in his chest. Rationally, he knew she was physically okay or Gavriel and Aedion would be by her side now. But she had been good at hiding her emotions, so good that her family didn’t see anything worrying. Apparently, he was the only one who saw anything, and it did nothing to help his worry about how she was right now.

After long seconds without a response, Rowan dared to look up at Gavriel. His head was turned toward Rowan, fork a few inches from his opened mouth. His entire face was frozen. Rowan just raised his eyebrows, waiting for anything to come out of his mouth. His boss shook his head, seeming to come back to reality. “Yeah. She is, why?” He could see the confusion on Gavriel’s face but Rowan wouldn’t answer that question so he just shrugged.

Rowan managed to stay quiet a few more minutes, even if he could feel the awkwardness in their air, but another question was burning his throat. “Have you ever met Arobynn Hamel?”

This time he looked up to see Gavriel look at him as if he was an alien, but thank the Gods, he didn’t comment on his interest. “Once or twice, but very briefly. Generally, that was just when he was picking Aelin up.” Rowan nodded, still trying to understand what Aelin had meant by The furthest they are from Arobynn, the safest they are. She hadn’t said anything else, leaving him more confused than anything.

“How did she met him?” He tried to appear casual as he asked that, taking another fork of food in his mouth. The food tasted sour as Gavriel kept watching him suspiciously. He couldn’t ask these questions to Aedion, knowing his friend he would be too defensive of his cousin, especially if Rowan was the one asking the questions. Gavriel knew about Aelin and Rowan’s disdain for each other but he knew less than Aedion, he hadn’t seen the two of them yell at each other or hadn’t witnessed them doing absolutely everything to ruin the other’s day.

He didn’t dare to ask Lysandra either, he was sure the woman would stab him with her hells if he even dared to pronounce Aelin’s name.

So Gavriel was the safest choice.

He seemed to think about who to tell him before opening his mouth. “At a party, when she was sixteen or fifteen, I think.” He took a bite of his food. “Arobynn’s an old friend of her father, both went together to college and were best of friends there, but they lost contact and met again at a gala. They talked about Aelin and found out she wanted to work in the same industry as Arobynn. He’s been her mentor ever since.”

Fifteen? Maybe Rowan’s mind was just fucked up to think it was weird, maybe he was just influenced by what Aelin said the other night. He might not have found it weird if she hadn’t said anything. He was just thinking too hard, trying too hard to find an explanation for what’s happening to her.

“You think he’s good to her?” Gavriel was a wise man, he was trying so hard to be part of his son’s life and it included taking care of Aedion’s cousin. Surely, he didn’t notice the little things Rowan did, but maybe he noticed something else. Rowan’s boss only shrugged.

“He found her a place at her university, made her TA, and gives her a job every summer. So, yeah. I guess so.” And he was paying for her education, a fact Aelin hid from her family. Why would she? It was what didn’t make sense, what was weird with all that. “I’m even sure he’s the first person she went to see when she left her parents in Terassen.”

What?

“What do you mean, ‘left’?” He asked, his brows furrowed. It wasn’t the only thing that didn’t make sense, he knew for a fact Aelin came to the house first. He hadn’t talked to her that day, he and the boys were sent to their room as if they were teenagers the moment a crying Aelin knocked at the door. He had lingered longer than necessary in the staircase, long enough to see her in a dress, shoes in hands, and cheeks filled with black makeup that had run down her cheeks.

Next thing he knew, Aedion spent a week at his father, trying to get Aelin better. Rowan had thought about this night for too long, Rowan always thought Aelin had partied too hard (because from her outfit, it was quite clear she had partied) and it was the straw that broke the camel's back for her parents. Even without wanting to, it had been impossible not to know about Aelin Ashryver Galathynius.

Pictures and videos of her in more than indecent dresses for her age were on page one of every magazine, when pictures of her sniffing coke had leaked it had even been made to National News. She had been sixteen at the time, and it had only been one of many times she had been caught doing what she shouldn’t have.

Before Gavriel could answer, the door opened to let Aelin appear in the doorway. She was holding flowers in her left hand, a smile on her face as she saw her uncle. Unfortunately, her face froze when she saw Rowan. Rowan’s entire body stilled, eyes roaming all over her body. She seemed okay, not skinnier than the last time he saw her, not hurt.

“Oh,” she said, opening and closing her mouth multiple times. She swallowed before clearing her throat. Only a blind person wouldn’t see her anxiety. “I didn’t think you ate there.”

He usually didn’t, having enough time to go back home. It was more comfortable to eat there, but he had been burying himself under work since he woke up in her empty bed. “You thought wrong.”

She was uncomfortable, and he both wanted to make her feel that way for hours and wanted to comfort her at the same time.

Sensing both of their unease, Gavriel stood up and went to leave the room. “I brought you those, your favorites,” Aelin said, giving her uncle the flowers. “I went to your favorite flower shop.”

Gavriel smiled and kissed Aelin’s cheek, earning a smile out of her. “Thanks.” He looked back at Rowan, he knew it was a warning glare but he didn’t care. He needed to speak with her. Gavriel left, pretending to have something else to do but it was all an excuse to let them speak.

“So, you’re alive.”

Aelin snorted. “I don’t know if you look relieved or sad.”

He fought his lips from rising. “Anything to say?”

Aelin looked at him, her bottom lip between her lips and her hands fidgeting. “Your shirt is ugly.”

It was his turn to snort. Of course, she wouldn’t go straight to the point. He arched a brow, waiting for a real answer. Even though he was the one sitting, he held more power than her now.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything,” he said as he closed his tablet, letting his fork down on the plate to have his hands free. “I just want you to act like the adult you are, and it doesn’t include running away in the middle of the night after telling someone you want to die.” His voice was hard, it made Aelin flinch.

“I never said I wanted to die.”

“You said you didn’t have the strength to live, Aelin.”

“Yeah, never said I wanted to die.”

“But do you?” He had to ask, because if she did… He would do what was necessary, he couldn’t let her die. She was already killing herself slowly, between the sex and the alcohol… She told everyone she was sober from drugs but she had been lying for so long to everyone he had a hard time believing it.

Rowan got his answer when she avoided his gaze, focusing on the floor. His heart broke, he needed to help her and he doubted sending her to a psychiatric hospital would help.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, voice heavy with emotions. With his head, he made her sign to sit next to him, and to his surprise, he complied. She turned her chair to face him, their knees brushing. He could see the dark circles around her eyes from that close, her lips dryer than usual and dotted with small wounds that he knew were due to her teeth.

“I’m coming back home.” He told him, finally looking at him. “I was around, I finished school yesterday and had to sign some things at Arobynn’s office. So I bought Gavriel’s favorite flowers to thank him, I didn’t know you would be here.”

“You hoped I wouldn’t.” He stated and she only nodded. She looked broken as if she knew she could let her guard down after what happened between them Monday. He was happy she knew he would be here for her.

“I was ready to call the cops when I woke up alone, Aelin,” Rowan confessed. He needed her to understand people suffered from her actions. “I was going to until I heard Aedion complain to Lysandra about you leaving him for his father.” He exhaled a loud breath, trying to forget everything he felt that morning. “Aelin, I thought you were dead somewhere.”

Her hand gripped his, he couldn’t hide the surprise from his face. She kept her hand in his, her small fingers enveloping his. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from it, they had never touched like that. “I’m sorry,” her weak voice said. “I panicked. I didn’t think…” He looked back at her, letting her time formulate her thoughts. It was hard enough, she didn’t need to be pressed. “I didn’t think you’d care, to be honest. Nobody ever did, you said it yourself. Aedion was annoyed I was at Gavriel’s, not that I was gone. It’s always been this way, I’ve always been… free.”

It wasn’t freedom, it was negligence. But she didn’t need to hear this now, so he kept his mouth shut, just nodding in understanding. He linked their fingers together, delighted to see the surprise on Aelin’s face, at least they were even now. He squeezed her hand, accepting her apology. Two weeks ago he would have thought Aelin did it on purpose to have attention, but he began to realize he was wrong about her.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow.” He said, changing the subject. He had to get back to work soon, and he didn’t have the time to unpack everything he wanted right now. Aelin still looked at their hands, feeling too hard to describe on her face. She nodded.

“Lysandra and Dorian spent the week throwing a huge party for you,” It wasn’t exactly a surprise, Aelin knew there would be a party but probably thought it would just be her and her close friends. Lysandra and Dorian had another idea in mind. “If it’s too much, we can ditch. We’ll find an excuse.”

Finally, her eyes looked back at his face. She had a small smile on her face, Rowan’s heartbeat eased at that. “No.” She shook her head. “A party is what I need right now.”

Rowan wanted to disagree on that, but she was an adult. She knew what was best for her. “Then let’s party.”

Her eyes widened. “You usually don’t come to my birthday.” She was right, he had avoided these parties full of teenagers as much as he could, but he wanted to stay with her.

“I thought were an English major,” he teased her, pulling at her arm slightly making her smile. “What part of ‘you don’t have to be alone anymore’ don’t you understand?”

At that, she smiled so brightly Rowan could have sworn it lighted up the entire room.

————

tag list: @sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @hellasblessed // @danibutterr

[missymurphy1985]

Nobody's Perfect (part2)

The aftermath of your apparent one night stand with Cillian Murphy.

Warnings - smut / angst / language

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x

The hangover was pretty mild compared to the absolute shame you felt walking onset that afternoon. Not only did Cillian simply discard you after he had his way with you, now you had to face him in an intimate scene. Well, as intimate as Clara Rose being fucked over a desk by Tommy Shelby can be...

Paul greeted you with a warm smile, which you didn't expect, surely the whole set would be laughing at you?

"Y/n! Where did you disappear off to last night?" He hugged you and you walked over to the canteen area together, one eye over the whole set checking whether he was here yet.

"Oh, I think I just had one too many.. once my head hit the pillow I was out like a light!" You lied, convincingly. Well, you were an actress...

"Cillian said it wasn't difficult to get you into bed!"

"What?!" You nearly got whiplash from the sudden neck movement.

"You were so drunk, you were practically asleep before you got there!" Your face softened in relief. Paul was one of his closest friends onset. If he hadn't told him, maybe no one else knew..

"Yeah, didn't put up much of a fight, did you love?" That voice appeared out of nowhere behind you both and you couldn't help your hands shaking a little.

You smiled, gritting your teeth.

"Bet you weren't feeling too hot this morning?" Oh when was he going to shut up... "Bit sore?"

"I felt fine thank you." You forced a smile and turned your back on him before walking over to Sophie and Natasha to get a coffee and some adult, non-innuendo conversation, leaving Cillian and Paul to head to makeup to get ready for their scenes.

You forced it down enough that Tash and Sophie didn't notice anything untoward. Before long, the director was calling you to get ready and your heart sank - THAT scene. Brilliant.

The set was closed to everyone except you, Cillian and the directors due to the 'sexual nature' of it, and you were casually sat leaning against the desk waiting for Tommy Shelby to make his way over. The sooner this was over, the better. A few moments passed before he made his way over. You didn't speak as he sat on the chair next in front of you, both of you in full costume.

"Can we at least be professional?" You asked, breaking the silence.

"It was just sex y/n," he chuckled making your blood boil. The directors came onto the set and took you both to the side explaining what they needed. These scenes were never fully choreographed - it was down to the actors to know their characters well enough to just run with it.

You both got into position, ready for the call of Action. You, dress hitched over your waist bent over the desk, Cillian behind you ready to go. One of his hands on your waist, the other on your lower back. You could feel him rubbing the skin there gently, as if he was trying to make you feel more comfortable.. but as quick as it started, it stopped. The director called Action and the pounding began.

Once the 'climaxes' had been reached, he 'removed' himself from you and you straightened yourself out, turning to face him. The cameras still rolling, the scene wasn't done. But the script couldn't have been more perfect.

"Better, Mr Shelby?" You asked, as Clara.

"Much. Thank you Clara, you can see yourself out, eh?"

"Does this life satisfy you, Tommy? A different girl every week? Just mere objects for you to get your end away... Never spare a thought for them do you? They're just there to what, serve a purpose I guess? How many was it this month, huh, do you even know?" A pause, his gaze never left yours. You weren't talking to Tommy now, and he knew it. Finally he took a deep breath and pointed behind you.

"The door's over there."

Your eyes watered. Unscripted, but the director didn't call cut... You bit your lip and headed out the door.

"CUT! Jesus y/n, you nearly had ME welling up.. that last shot was incredible..." You smiled at the director and looked back at Cillian, who was still watching you, a stony expression on his face. Without missing a beat, you walked off set and back to your trailer.

You sat at the table in your trailer with a coffee, closing your eyes and pushing away everything from the last 24 hours. A knock on your door stunned you. You opened it to find Natasha, who saw your red eyes and immediately let herself in, closing the door behind you and pulling you into her arms. Without thinking you allowed your tears to fall. Sobbing almost uncontrollably.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" She asked, easing you onto the sofa and kneeling down in front of you.

"Y/n... Talk to me, you're worrying me.." you took a deep breath and shook your head.

"I'm fine... Just a tough week and... I guess I'm just overwhelmed with it all a bit... you know?"

"Your acting skills are impeccable, y/n, but I'm not buying that for a second," she smiled. "He's an idiot, Y/n... And I should have warned you..."

"Oh god... Everyone knows don't they?"

"Only me. He doesn't know I know. He's a sucker for a nice pair of legs and dark brown hair. When he came back down after taking you to your room, it was written all over his face. That, and he had his t-shirt on inside out." You couldn't help but laugh. Idiot!

"Everyone was wasted - no one else noticed. But when you're on antibiotics and can't drink? You notice it all." Your smile was gone, as you held your head in your hands.

"I can't believe I let it happen.. he must think I'm such a slut.."

"You never had a one night stand before?"

"No, and I wasn't planning on having one with Cillian fucking Murphy either. My GOD he's an arsehole.. how the fuck am I gonna get through the next few months?"

"You hold your head high and walk proud. Kill him with kindness. Nothing more satisfying than letting him think you're not bothered! Come on, you're an actress aren't you? Channel your inner Clara!" She squeezed your hands and smiled.

"Thank you Tash..."

"And your secret is safe with me. Cillian's not the type to go shouting his mouth either don't worry. He's too in love with his reputation." She smirked.

You knew she was right - time to channel your inner Clara.

*******************************************

The next few days went well. Your conversation with Tash played over in your mind every time you felt down about what had happened, making sure you remembered exactly who was in control here - and it certainly wasn't him. You couldn't help but notice him watching you from the other side of a room though, and Tash had certainly noticed him glancing at you when you weren't looking.

You were sat reading in your trailer when the door opened.

"Paul asked me to drop this off, said you left it onset." Cillian's voice filled your trailer as he placed your handbag on the table in front of you.

"Thanks." You looked up and smiled, before returning to your book. He went to speak, but seemed to second guess himself and stayed quiet.

"Door's over there, Cillian." You stood up, moving past him to get to the door to open it for him, brushing your body against him as you did. You felt him tense and smiled internally.

"What are you reading?" You were stood by the now open door, he hadn't moved.

"A book."

"You gonna be like this for the next two months y/n?"

"I don't know what you mean Cillian."

He moved closer to you as if to leave, his body now in front of yours. He held his hand over yours on the door and your breath caught in your throat. Without thinking, you closed the door and his lips were on yours. The kiss soft at first, increasing in intensity as he pushed you against the wall. You lifted one leg up to his waist as he pushed his arousal into your core, making both of you groan at the contact.

"What are you doing to me y/n..." You wanted him, that much was clear.. but your brain suddenly kicked back in and you put your hands on his chest to push him away.

"I'm making you leave.. now.." your breath was heavy, you were turned on beyond belief but you couldn't let him do this to you again. He rested his head against yours and nodded. Without a word, he straightened out the clear erection in his trousers and wrapped his jumper round his waist to hide it, before stroking the side of your face and heading out the door.

[theweasleysredhair]

Wait For It [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 3488

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: ‘Death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints, it takes and it takes and it takes. And we keep living anyway. We rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes.’ [Based on ‘Wait For It’ from the musical Hamilton].

WARNING: major character death, other character deaths

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @valwritesx @hufflrpuffforfred @cappsikle @kiwi-sloan @potter-redheads @pigwidgexn @twinkyjohnson @sarcasticallywitty15 @tyyyweasley @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @wonderful-writer @marauders-loving-queen @vogueweasley @marvelettesassemble @thisismynerdyself @gcdric @loony-loopy-lupinn @tinylumpiaa @locke-writes @pussytalenteditdocartwheels @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @whiz-bangs78 @heart-of-tempered-steel @oh-for-merlins-sake @heavenlymidnight @aylinw3asley @vivianweasley | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: got a bit carried away with the angst... prepare your hearts guys - i cried a lot and i’m the one who wrote it. anyways lil shoutout to haley @wand3ringr0s3 bc she let me talk out this fic idea and also she’s the queen of angst fics. anyways enjoy x

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

Love;-

His ginger hair was illuminated by the light from the fire, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief and lips curled up into a cheeky smile - one you adored on him, one that made your heart race.

He sat beside Lee, retelling the story of one of his more outrageous pranks, waving his hands in enthusiasm as you smiled at him. You weren’t quite listening, too caught up in his voice and how passionate he was, your heart beating fast as you pulled a knee up to rest your chin on as you watched him.

The conversation moved on quickly from there, but you couldn’t bring yourself to remove your gaze from the eldest twin, moving to lean on George’s arm as you listened, but making no move to join in with them.

“I can’t wait to ask her.”

The words piqued your interest, and you almost jolted from your seat as you heard him say those words, feeling like your heart was in your throat.

Who was he talking about?

“She’s... she’s amazing. She’s smart, she’s funny. She’s fit. If she says yes to me, I’ve hit the jackpot I reckon,” Fred grinned, leaning back into the sofa. His eyes flickered over to you for just a moment and you smiled back at him absent-mindedly.

You couldn’t help it. You loved him.

Lee nudged Fred, wiggling his eyebrows at him, “When are you gonna ask her to the ball?”

Fred cleared his throat and sat up straighter, and you caught his gaze, a small - very hopeful - part of you praying he was going to ask you, and ask you at that moment.

When his gaze moved swiftly onto George, you finally looked away, staring at the fire. And though you knew, deep down, that he wasn’t talking about you, you hoped.

“Tomorrow.”

You’d wait and hope with all your heart he’d pick you.

***

You’d felt nervous all day, a ball of negative energy curling in your stomach as you wandered through your lessons aimlessly, heart clenching every time you saw Fred speaking to a girl, hoping he wasn’t asking her, yet knowing he might be.

You thought studying in the hall was going to be an easy hour, sitting by your close friends, including Angelina and Alicia, the twins and Lee sitting a little further up the benches, near Harry and Ron.

There was some mumbling, and then you heard Ron hiss, “Who’re you going with then?”

You slowly looked up, so as to not draw attention to yourself or show yourself as interested, however as you glanced over at the boys, you noticed Fred staring.

And for a moment, a small gap in time, your heart leapt as you thought he was looking at you. His brown eyes caught yours and he winked, and you felt your throat closing up, thought maybe there was a possibility of him asking you.

He threw the scrunched up ball of paper in your direction, and you held your breath, a smile curling onto your lips as the paper flew towards you. You practiced how you’d say yes to him in your head, imagined what you’d wear, how you’d do your makeup. What colour his tie would be - the same colour as your dress, you’d hope.

And then the paper sailed past your eyeline, hitting Angelina on her shoulder. Your heart sank, blood rushing through your ears as you watched Fred ask her to the ball, felt the pain in your chest growing as watched her nod.

It was one thing knowing he didn’t feel the same about you as you did about him, another to know he felt that way for someone else. More specifically, one of your closest friends.

You ripped your gaze away from them and stared down at the paper in front of you, quill nearly breaking from the force you were applying to it, throat closing up as you blinked away your tears, not wanting anyone to see.

The study time felt like it lasted hours, your hands shaking as you packed your things up and headed straight for your common room, burying yourself under the blankets on your bed and screaming into your pillow.

You were sure you were in love with Fred Weasley, as certain as you were that the sky was blue and grass was green. Your happiness grew when you heard him laugh, heart pounding whenever he was near.

He loved Angelina though.

Tears soaked your pillow as you tried to put your heart back together somehow. Tried to be okay with it.

But how were you supposed to get over a boy you were never with? How were you supposed to fall out of love with someone that didn’t love you?

Your chest ached, eyes sore from wiping away tears, yet they still fell.

And so you sat, crying over a love you never had. And most likely never would.

-

Death;-

“How’re you feeling?” Fred asked as he joined you in a secluded area of the castle. The battle preparations were ongoing, with everyone quickly projecting all the protective spells they knew on any part of the school they could.

You looked out and could see a swarm of black figures heading towards you in the distance, making everything seem that much more real, that much more scary.

“Scared,” you admitted glancing up at the redhead, who nodded.

“Me too,” he confirmed. He opened his arms and pulled you into his chest, into a warm hug. You closed your eyes, breathing in his scent as your arms wrapped tightly around him.

You both stood there for just a while, his hands rubbing your back reassuringly, and you decided, in that moment, you needed to tell him.

You needed to tell him you loved him.

Needed him to know, before you both set off fighting. Needed to know if there was chance for you both - if this was another reason to fight.

“I need to tell you something, before it all starts,” your voice was quiet, but you knew Fred heard as he pulled away to look at you, his hands still holding your waist as he focused on you.

“What is it?”

“I-“ you hesitated for a moment, swallowing nervously as your gaze dropped to the floor. Fred lifted your head up gently with his thumb, a touch that set your skin alight, one that sent shivers down your spin.

“What’s wrong?” He asked softly, in contrast to his usual booming voice, a concerned look set on his features as he looked down at you, his brown eyes showcasing his worry.

“Please don’t hate me,” you replied, just as soft. You squeezed your eyes tightly, feeling him grab one of your hands in his as the hand on your chin moved to cup your cheek.

“Darling, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

You bit your lip, reopening your eyes and catching his gaze, your heart pounding as you tried to think of the words you wanted to say, “I don’t want to go into this battle without you knowing, so I- I guess what I’m trying to say is... well, I’m in love with you.”

Silence is odd, having the ability to be both comfortable and tension-filled depending on the company and context. Usually, silence around Fred was comforting, knowing he was there without either of you having to say a word. But this silence, the silence that hung over you, made your heart leap to your throat, and you swallowed harshly, wincing at the wide-eyed look he was giving you at this revelation.

His hand dropped from your cheek and he stepped away just a little, just enough that you swore he probably could’ve heard your heart crack, before he finally spoke, his voice a shaky whisper, as if he didn’t know what to say, how to reply.

“Y/n, darling, I love you...”

You felt your eyes widening a little, heart beating fast now due to his response. You didn’t think you’d ever hear him say those three little words, ones that held so much meaning. The beginnings of the battle around you faded, and you could only think about how you loved Fred, and Fred loved you. Everything was going to be okay - you had each other.

Just as you were going to step forward, a watery laugh nearly escaping your lips, you realised he was still finishing his sentence, that he hadn’t finished answering you.

“... but only as a friend.”

His voice was gentle, but his words cut like glass, sharp pieces hitting your chest and ripping your skin, the words reverberating in your head. And suddenly warm tears were falling down your cheeks - you’d let yourself get your hopes up, let yourself imagine a life where you loved Fred and he loved you. When in reality, he didn’t love you.

He wasn’t in love with you.

You took a shaky breath, nodding at him as you pressed your lips together, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stepped back away from him.

“I know,” you whispered, looking away from his gaze, feeling embarrassed, above anything else, trying to force a smile onto your face, “I-I know... I just- I needed to tell you.”

You swallowed, shaking your head. You felt stupid. He’d never shown he was interested, you didn’t know why you’d ever thought there was a chance.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, before reaching out towards you, a look of sympathetic despair crossing his features as he tried to bring you closer to him.

As his fingers brushed yours and you pulled away as though he burnt you, he felt his heart clench, taking a shaky breath as he watched one of his closest friends pull away from him, tears lining his vision as you moved further away from him, his hand hovering mid-air as though he still wanted - needed - you to be near him.

“Love, please. I-I can’t lose you. Please, let’s just- Let’s talk about this. After all this- please. Don’t walk away, I-I need you Y/n. I’m sorry I don’t lov- but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I care about you so so much,” his lips were trembling, tears falling freely as he reached out again, a sob escaping his lips as you hesitated, allowing him to take his hand in yours for just a moment.

“It’s okay, Freddie,” you whispered, though he and you both knew it wasn’t okay, and possibly wouldn’t ever go back to the way things were before you told him you loved him, “I just- I need to be alone.”

“We’re going into battle, I need you to know that I-“

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “I can’t do this.”

Fred tried desperately to get you to stay. He didn’t want to watch you leave, to watch you walk away from him. Not like this, not when you were both about to risk your lives fighting in a dangerous battle, where one wrong move could cost you your life.

“But I-“

“I need to go,” You pulled your hand from his and turned on your heel, wiping your tears away quickly as you ran off.

Fred’s mouth opened, as if he wanted to say something, as if he wanted to call after you, before closing it again and shaking his head sadly, wiping a last lone tear that fell down his cheek before shoving his hands into his pockets.

He’d find you after the battle and speak to you, he decided.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

***

You were tired. The battle wore on around you as you stumbled through the fallen pieces of the building around you, overwhelmed at the fighting and overcome with the realisation that you were basically a bunch of kids trying to fight in a war you tried to prevent.

You hadn’t seen anyone for a while, being towards the back of the school, only fighting the occasional death eater who wandered close to you. You were hiding out after a particularly nasty hex left a gash down your arm, trying your best to bandage it up as best you could.

You hoped everyone was okay, had already passed by Colin Creevey lying on the floor as you found somewhere to hide. You’d almost stopped for a moment, hoping he was just unconscious, however the angle he was lay at told you otherwise, and you forced yourself to move on before anyone came back.

Still reeling with emotion from your talk before the battle, you’d shot spells carelessly at death eaters, hoping it was enough to keep them away. To keep you alive.

You turned the corner, wand raised, your eyes scanning the scene as you tried to find somebody - anybody.

And that’s when you saw it.

A flash of light, and you felt yourself running towards it, stumbling over the rubble, dodging spells in desperation. It hit the wall, the ginger boy stood underneath unaware.

You screamed out his name, the sound somehow cutting through the spells and fighting, your lungs burning as you willed yourself to run faster.

It played out in your mind in slow motion, the light, the stone crumbling, falling.

Fred turned at the sound of your voice, a smile etched on his face from something Percy had said, but just before you could push him out of the way, the wall fell.

You halted, barely metres away, nearly losing your footing as you choked out a sob, tears streaming as you stared at Percy, who had the same stricken look on his face.

Neither of you spared a glance around you before rushing towards where the eldest twin once stood, desperate to find him, to make sure he was okay.

Removing the pieces of rubble with a desperation you didn’t know you could feel, until you found a tuft of ginger hair sticking out between two broken bricks. Your heart clenched, stuck in your throat as you revealed his face, his last smile etched onto his features.

You didn’t hear the scream that left your mouth, didn’t feel Percy gently moving you so he could remove the stones from on top of the rest of Fred’s body.

Your eyes wandered across his face, his freckled skin, the slope of his nose and down to his chapped lips. Tears fell onto his face as your hands rested on his shoulders, gripping onto the fabric of his sweater, sobs racking through your body as you ignored the battle going on around you.

“Wake up, Freddie, please wake up!”

Your pleas went unanswered, the ginger boy laying before you still, his face unwavering.

“No, please!” You sobbed. You didn’t notice Percy’s hand on your shoulder, or his heartbroken mentions to move his little brother away from the fighting - to move you away from the fighting.

You clung to Fred, not wanting to let him go, not being able to, “You gotta wake up, Fred. This isn’t funny, this isn’t a good prank. Please wake up. Please just-“

You ran a hand through his hair and wiped your tears off his cheek, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for walking away. Please. We need you. George needs you. I need you. Please.”

Your voice cracked as you spoke to him, white noise filling your ears as all you could focus on was the sight of the boy laying before you, cuts across the side of his head, his brown eyes once shining, now dull. You grabbed his hand, holding it in yours, refusing to let go.

You weren’t sure when Fred’s body was taken from you, when he was moved into the Great Hall, too shaken up to think of anything but the thought of the wall falling over and over again, playing out in your mind like a cruel nightmare, each time you were too late, barely metres too late, seconds too late to stop it.

You sobbed into George’s shoulder, his head resting on yours as you both cried.

Before anything, Fred was one of your closest friends. One of your best friends. And now you’d never get to see him smile again, never hear his laugh or get to play silly pranks with him.

You’d never hug him again, never hear his flirty comebacks and witty jokes.

And as you felt George’s clutch tighten on you, both as broken as the other at losing the person you loved the most, a grief-stricken sob escaped your lips, causing George to pull away a little to see if you were okay, his eyes bloodshot, tears streaming down his face, still so caring after losing his other half, your bottom lip trembled as you thought back over everything.

You had walked away from him. Your last words bouncing around your head - I need to go. In your haste, you never said goodbye to the boy you loved. And now you never could, would never get the chance.

George squeezed his eyes tight as he brought you closer to his chest, you grabbing a handful of his t shirt in your fist as tears streamed down both your faces. You mumbled something inaudible into his chest and he moved to hear you better. The same words fell out of your mouth over and over, between broken sobs and falling tears,

“I’m sorry, I was too late.”

-

Life;-

The first few months after the battle were difficult. You saw him in everything - in every bit of laughter, every bright colour, every joke.

You saw him in George, who’d tried his hardest to forget. He’d smashed all his mirrors, tried to dye his hair, before you found him, collapsed in a ball of sobs in the middle of his flat, whispering, “Please, bring him back.”

After living his entire life with Fred in it, he didn’t know how to live without him.

You relied on each other to get you through, taking it day by day, trying to mend your hearts, broken in different, yet very similar ways.

The nightmares were the worst.

Waking up in cold sweats, seeing the wall collapse in front of you, knowing you were too late and didn’t get to say goodbye to the boy you loved. Knowing if you were just a few seconds earlier, George would still have his twin brother by his side, laughing and making jokes like usual.

“The worst part isn’t remembering. It’s easy to remember. The worst part, the hardest part, is those times I forget to remember. I forget that he’s not here, that he’s gone. And then I remember and I feel so guilty,” you’d told George, half a year after the battle. It was nearing Christmas, a time you both used to love, yet now you were apprehensive, didn’t know how to do Christmas without Fred.

George had replied sweetly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you. And whilst it didn’t feel the same as the way Fred had hugged you before the battle, the feeling was comforting, warm and familiar, “He knew you loved him. You cared for him, watched over him to make sure he didn’t do anything too stupid. And now he gets to return the favour and watch over you.”

“He’s really gone isn’t he. He’s just... gone.”

The night you’d gone through his things with George was difficult. It was sad, sometimes overwhelming, but you also got to sit and just remember, reminding yourselves who Fred was.

With every Weasley product you found, with every photograph you came across, every sweater, broken quill and long-forgotten sketch, your sad tears began to turn into happy ones, laughing with George about your times in Hogwarts, about better days gone by.

It was funny, that even though he was gone, he could still bring smiles to your faces.

Maybe that’s why he was so special, why it hurt so much to lose him. He made the people around him happy, through everything.

You visited him often, needing to apologise, to properly say goodbye. Or just to feel like you were close to him again. To thank him for all he’d done, for allowing you to love him how you did. For being such an important person in so many people’s lives.

Wiping a tear that fell down your cheek, your hand reached out to hold onto the gravestone before you for balance, smiling through your tears as your fingers ran across his name, engraved on the stone.

‘Fred Weasley

1st April 1978 - 2nd May 1998’

You kneeled down, placing a single flower across the grass in front of the stone. It’d been years since you’d lost Fred and somehow the pain got worse every day.

But you knew, with time, things would get better. You’d find your happiness, and learn to move on.

All you had to do was wait for it.

[albertasunrise]

Unexpected

Summary: After the worst day at work you’ve ever had, you find release in a man that you meet in a bar. A tall dark stranger that gives you the best night of your life… but you also get more than you bargained for.

Warning/Content: Explicit, Angst, Bathroom Sex, Swearing 

Paring: Javier Peña / Female Reader 

Masterlist

~

Downing your drink, you groan into your palm as you try to calm your frayed nerves. Today had been hell. You knew that coming to Columbia to work at the Embassy was not going to be easy. You'd volunteered on a whim, how many Executive Assistants had the chance to assist the Ambassador to Columbia? Today though, shit had hit the fan and you were the one to take the brunt of the crap that flew. You were the assistant, unfortunately, it came with the territory. So you had decided to go home, put on your best jeans and a nice top and go to the bar your colleagues had been raving about, alone. You motion to the barman to fetch you another drink, thanking him as he gives it to you and you hold out the money you owe.

‘It’s on him.’ The barman states, motioning to someone sat a few stools down from you.

He had dark hair that curled at the end and a moustache that surprisingly suited him, you’d never liked them on men before. His eyes were dark, cocoa brown and twinkled in the yellow artificial light, crinkling at the corners as he smiled at you.

‘Thank you.’ You say to him, nodding your appreciation before taking a large swig.

‘Bad day?’ He asks, noting the tension in your shoulders.

‘The worst.’ You reply, downing the last of your drink.

~

His lips were delicious against your skin, nibbling and sucking at your neck as he hoists you up so that you're perched on the edge of the sink. It was chaotic. Fingers fumbling to unbutton his jeans as his thrust and curl inside you, driving that coil tighter and tighter. You manage to free his length, kissing him hard as your hands grab his waist and pull him flush against you.

‘Fuck me, Peña.’ You growl, pumping his length ‘Now.’

You don’t need to ask him twice, pushing himself into your heat with one swift motion that has you moaning loudly into his mouth. He's ruthless, pounding you as your brace yourself against the mirror. It didn’t take long for you to climax, throwing your head back and your mouth falling open in a silent scream as he continues to hit that spot inside that makes your toes curl. His lips latched to your pulse point, fingers sliding between you and rubbing circular motions on your clit as he growls in your ear.

‘One more for me Hermosa.’ He whispers, his low baritone sending you over the edge again and your walls clamp hard around him, pulling his own orgasm from him seconds later.

‘Fuck.’ You breathe as you slump back against the mirror at your rear ‘Thanks… I needed that.’

‘Glad I could be of service.’ He grinned, helping you down and running his hand through his sweat-slick hair.

‘See you around Peña.’ You wink, leaving him speechless in your wake.

~

You hadn’t expected that you’d see him so soon, the both of you sharing a wide-eyed gaze as he approached the Ambassador's office. The blonde man at his side studied the two of you for a moment before rolling his eyes and letting out an audible huff.

‘You fucked her didn’t you.’ He growled, your face heating up as you return your attention to your paperwork.

‘She’s ready when you are.’ You state, your eyes not leaving the piece of paper in your hands.

You quickly dove for the ladies the moment they disappeared through the door, letting out a shaky breath as you splashed your face with water. Of course, the man you’d casually fucked last night was a DEA agent here to catch Escobar. You’d been here exactly 2 weeks so had not had the pleasure of meeting the two American pain in the asses that the Ambassador complained about so much but now you knew one intimately. You knew he had given you the best fuck of your life. You straightened your makeup and returned to your desk, fighting to keep your mind quiet as the minutes ticked by.

‘Can I speak to you a moment?’ You jumped, not even seeing Javier walk up to your desk.

‘I uh-‘

‘It won't take a minute.’

You nod, following him to the empty communal kitchen and lean against the counter, arms crossed as you wait for him to speak. He’s silent initially, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he thinks carefully about what to say to you.

‘I’m sorry about Steve.’ He says finally, resting one hand on his hip as the other scrubs over his face.

‘It’s fine Peña.’ You reply ‘We did fuck so he was right.’

‘Right…’ He replies, looking at you a moment before continuing ‘I guess he is.’

‘Was that all you wanted to say?’ You asked curtly, eyes glancing at the clock to your left.

‘No. I uh-‘ He pauses, carefully thinking about his next words ‘I wondered if perhaps I could take you out for dinner?’

‘Javi you don’t have to do that.’

‘Do what?’ You sigh, shaking your head at him.

‘Protect my dignity or whatever.’

‘No thats-‘

‘I’d had a bad day and needed a fuck. You kindly provided me with that service.’ You state, noting the slightly wounded expression that crosses his face ‘You were great but it was a one-time thing. Don’t need to make a thing out of it.’

‘Oh.’ His voice cracks a little, taking a step towards the door he nods and looks around at anything but you ‘Right yeah of course. See you around.’

~

You don’t see much of Peña after that. He doesn’t speak to you when he meets the ambassador, barely looks at you when he announces that he’s there. You’d learned about his reputation from office gossip. The playboy DEA agent, screwing hookers for information and bedding most of the assistants in the office, you were just another to add to the pile. You notice that he doesn’t blank the other assistants, he subtly flirts with them as he passes by but when he sees you the air changes and you shiver. You couldn’t possibly have hurt him? He didn’t do relationships and he was the king of one night stands so why was he treating you like this? You’d almost called in sick this morning. You’d been feeling nauseous since you woke up and when your colleague had offered you a mug of coffee you'd almost thrown up on their shoes. A familiar voice filled the air and you looked up to see Peña and his partner Murphy approaching, catching Javi’s eye you decide that you don't need his shit and will avoid it altogether. You push yourself to your feet, grabbing your desk as a wave of dizziness hits you.

‘You okay.’ Asks Sophie as she gives you a concerned glance.

‘Yeah.’ You reply, nodding weakly ‘Just got up too quickly.’

You start walking towards the kitchen, your eye catching Peña’s again as your paths get closer and closer. Then everything goes back. Javier manages to catch you just as your eyes roll back and your legs give way, his heart hammering in his chest as he tries to rouse you.

‘She okay?’ Asks Steve as he looks down at you with concern.

Peña doesn’t answer, just strokes your cheek as your eyes start to flutter ‘Hey you with me?’

You can only nod, your brain a fuzzy mess as you try to make sense of everything. When your eyes finally find the strength to open, you’re greeted by familiar brown eyes staring down at you, brow furrowed with worry. Suddenly you get a surge of energy and you push yourself up and out of his arms.

‘Thanks.’ You grumble, placing your palm against your forehead before getting to your feet.

‘You should go see a doctor.’ He states, placing a friendly hand on your arm.

‘Yeah. I will.’ You reply plainly, leaving his presence as quickly as you can.

Javier watches you leave, his stomach twisting again as he felt that all familiar hurt creep in again. It wasn’t something he was used to, having feelings but ever since that night, he’d not been able to get you out of his head. You clearly weren't interested in him though. You got what you wanted and that was it.

~

Sophie drove you to a clinic that afternoon, the only person that spoke English there being a lady called Connie who was American also. After explaining your symptoms she decided to run a few tests, informing you that you’d most likely get the results later that week. You gave her your number and left, not wanting to dwell on the multitude of possible things that could be wrong with you. It was stress. Pure and simple. As the days went on you grew more and more nervous. You were still struggling with nausea but you’d thankfully not had a repeat of your fainting spell so when your phone rang you felt your heart thunder in your chest, picking up the receiver you answer with your name and listen as Connie spoke.

‘Are you able to come down here?’ She asks, her soft voice doing nothing to quell your nerves.

‘Sure, when?’

‘Would half an hour work for you?’ She asks.

‘Yes.’ You reply, grabbing your keys ‘See you then.’

You make it to the clinic 10 minutes early, your hands shaking as you sit and wait for your name to be called. Connie’s smiling face calms you a little when it comes into view and she ushers for you to follow her, motioning at the chair beside her desk as she closes the door behind her.

‘How are you feeling?’ She asks, placing a kind hand on your forearm as she sits in the chair across from yours.

‘Still been struggling the last few days but no more fainting spells thank goodness.’ You reply, your voice shaking,

‘Okay.’ She says softly, pulling a piece of paper out.

‘So what’s wrong with me?’ You ask, smiling awkwardly as you try to lighten the situation.

‘You are pregnant.’ She replies plainly, looking up at you to gauge your reaction ‘About 6 weeks along.’

‘Fuck.’ You groan, throwing your face into your hands.

‘According to the medical record that you supplied you have an IUD but it appears that you are late getting it changed.’

‘Yeah, I uh…’ You groan again, cursing yourself inwardly ‘I haven't had a chance.’

‘Well, we’ll get you booked in to get it removed and for a scan.’ She states, her tone calm and professional ‘I’m guessing that you’re not with the father.’

‘Fuck, the father.’ You exclaim, throwing your hands up to your head ‘What am I going to tell him? Oh hey, remember that time we fucked in the bathroom of that bar… well you got me pregnant.’

Connie sits there with her mouth hanging open as she listens to your tirade.

‘God, what do I do Connie? Do I keep it?’ You start to panic, a million scenarios flying through your head.

‘Have you got someone that can come get you?’ She asks.

‘I moved here 2 months ago.’ You reply, tears finally falling ‘I have literally no one.’

‘Hey.’ She grabs your hand, grounding you ‘Why don’t you come back to mine this evening? I don’t have many friends either and I know that I wouldn’t want to be alone after receiving unexpected news like this. My husband can drop you home after. I bought a tone of food to cook for us and his friend so there will be plenty for you too.’

You think about it for a moment, finding that her presence was instantly soothing, like a balm and so you find yourself nodding. You offer to drive her back, the conversation in the car flowing easily as you drive through the busy streets to her apartment building. You help her cook, finding the action helps calm you as you stir the sauce as she chops some veg.

‘So what do you think you’ll do?’ She asks, sipping on her wine as she turns to look at you.

‘Well, I need to tell the father. Whether he wants to raise this baby with me or not he deserves to be given the choice’ You reply, sipping on the decaf coffee she’d made you ‘I’ve always wanted kids but I thought perhaps I had a few more years left yet before it happened.’

‘So you want to keep it?’ She asked and you nod 'Do you think he'll want to be involved?'

‘Honestly? I don’t know.’ You reply, shrugging your shoulders ‘Like he asked me out to dinner and I said no, I assumed that he was just trying to protect my dignity or whatever but then he’s been so cold to me since. Thinking about it now, I think he might have asked because he actually wanted to go on a date with me. When I fainted he was so attentive and I practically ran away from him. Ugh.’

‘We’re back.’ Came a familiar voice, your blood went cold.

What were the chances that Connie Murphy was Steve Murphy’s wife?

‘Who’s this?’

You turn around and his head jumps back in surprise.

‘Oh, Hey.’

‘You know each other?’ Asks Connie, confusion crossing her face.

‘Yeah we work together’ He replies ‘Sort of. How do you know each other?’

‘She came to the clinic. She got some unexpected news today and I thought she'd appreciate a home-cooked meal and good company to take her mind off of it.’

‘I hope everything’s okay?’ He asks as he gives you a concerned look.

‘Yeah.’ You reply, your eyes locking with Javier as he slips out of the shadows ‘Everything’s fine.’

Javier is silent most of the night, the tension between the two of you so thick that it was almost tangible. When Connie and Steve got up to clean the plates you were left alone and you knew that this was your chance. You had to tell him.

‘I uh…- You pause, your heart in your throat ‘I need to talk to you about something.’

‘Do you?’ His tone is cutting and you wince, you deserve it.

You are interrupted by Steve offering you both a nightcap which you decline in unison. You leave together, hugging Connie goodbye and thanking her for a lovely evening before practically chasing Peña down the stairs.

‘Javier wait. Please!’

‘Can’t this wait until tomorrow? I have somewhere to be.’ He growls as he pushes his key into the lock on his door.

‘I’m pregnant.’ You blurt out, stopping him in his tracks ‘My IUD failed and well… I’m 6 weeks pregnant.’

He turns to face you but he doesn’t say anything, just listens as you continue to ramble.

‘I’m not telling you because I want anything from you. I think I’m going to keep it but I just wanted to give you the option to be a part of its life but I get that you probably want nothing to do with me.’ You pause, wiping a stray tear with the back of your hand ‘I have a scan booked in for two weeks from now. You can come if you want. It's at 3 pm on the 25th at Connie’s clinic.’

He still says nothing, just stares at you and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

‘Anyway… I thought you should know.’ You state before darting out the door, your tears streaming as you get in your car and drive away.

~

Once again you were early. You stare at the clock and watch each minute painfully tick by, a hand resting on your belly.

‘Hey.’ It’s a voice you hadn’t expected to hear.

You look up to see Javier standing across from you, his expression surprisingly soft considering the circumstances. He takes a seat beside you and you lock eyes with him, smiling when he takes your free hand in an attempt to calm your nerves.

‘You came.’ You state, so quietly it’s almost a whisper.

‘Yeah well... Despite the fact I asked you on a date which you rejected and the fact you ran away from me when I tried to care for you after you fainted you seem to have some sort of hold on me,’ He states, tilting his head to one side ‘Kids were never a part of my plan but then... neither were you.’

You go to speak but are interrupted by your name being called and you look up together to see a short, dark-haired woman motioning for you to come. You both follow her into a small room where she hands you a robe and instructs you to change in the toilet. When you return she motions for you to lay down and warns that the ultrasound gel will probably be cold, you still jump when it touches your skin. You lay there as she fires up the scanner and places the probe on your stomach and you suddenly feel unbelievable nervous. You stare up at Javier who was giving you a look you couldn’t make out. Was it nerves? Excitement? The silence is cut by a constant beat and Javier’s hand grabs hold of yours as you both look at the nurse.

‘Heartbeat is good.’ She states, pointing at a small white shape on the screen ‘Everything look good.’ She continues in her broken English 'I print some pictures for you.’

You nod then look at Javier again. He’s staring at the screen with wide, tear brimmed eyes and you feel your heart jump at the sight. You return your attention to the nurse who hands you the print-outs and excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone with the frozen image of your baby on the screen.

‘You okay?’ You ask, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

‘Yeah.’ He replies, looking at you with pure, unadulterated joy ‘More than okay.’

Then he kisses you but this time it’s different. It’s not hungry or desperate, it’s soft and caring and you melt into it, smiling as he cups your cheeks. Breaking away he kisses your forehead and looks at you with his hypnotising eyes.

‘Shall we try this again?’ He asks, smirking at you ‘Can I take you to dinner?’

‘Well, Agent Peña I think that’s the least you can do considering I’m having your baby.’ You joke, kissing him again as he chuckles.

‘Yes.’ He replies, kissing you again ‘Yes you are.'

~

[plant-flwrs]

heart of glass // fred weasley

masterlist!

request (from @bitchywhisperswizard <3): Hi! I absolutely LOVE your writing! Could I maybe request where Fred Weasley breaks up with reader before the war and thinks she died? Only to find her a year later in the muggle world like a celebrity performer? I understand if it doesn't make sense. Thank you!

a/n: thank u for the request!! i refuse to believe fred d*ed, but i am a sucker for fred lives au’s. also went a little grunge w this just because i love those pictures of metalhead james and oliver :) (i listened to miley cyrus’s new cover of heart of glass while i wrote this so i just called it that)

summary: Fred broke up with you just before the war, and when he couldn’t find you after the battle cleared he thought you died. You’re alive and well, living as a celebrity among the muggle world. One night reunites you two, and neither of you can deny the feelings that spark.

(2.5k)

------

Clutching the white sink beneath your fingers, you barely recognized the person looking back at you in the mirror. Your eyes were sunken and swollen, your lips puffed and red. Your cheeks were hollowed, casting shadows into your face. You lifted a shaky hand, pushing your hair out of your face and revealing a scar on your temple. 

You had barely made it out of the war, and once you did, you had no intentions on going back.

You made a new life in the muggle world, and eventually you were able to do what you had always wanted to do: perform. 

It was about ten minutes before you were due in stage, and your nerves had stopped buzzing a long time ago. You dipped a finger into some black eyeshadow, spreading it haphazardly across your eyes. You looked dead, and it showed what you felt like on the inside.

Not a day passed in which Fred Weasley hadn’t thought of you. Not a day passed in which guilt hadn’t plagued his heart and mind. Every day, for just over a year, the image of tears streaming down your face as he broke up with you was glue to the inside of his eyelids.

George tried to understand but he could never understand the pain. He tried to help his brother when he could. 

“Freddie!” George called to him from across the store, heaving in a huge box.

“Yeah?” Fred replied from behind the counter, pushing heavy buttons on the loud till.

“Look at this,” George quickly removed a hand from under the box, shifting his weight. He handed Fred a flier he found posted in the side of the shop.

It was a black flier, advertising some muggle bar in London. It looked like the sort of crowd the brothers gravitated towards some odd five years ago. Skulls and grunge symbols littered the page, and Fred found himself smiling fondly at it.

“Want to go?’ George asked, setting down the box in its right place, starting to unload the new shipment of chocolate wands.

“Aren’t we a little too old for this, George?” Fred said with a sad smile.

In that moment, George had the feeling he didn’t recognize his brother. His own face, but tormented with worry, sadness, and the unfriendly effects of time. George furrowed his brow, and tried to continue.

“No! It’ll be fun,” George reassured, slapping a hand on his brother’s back.

This was how Fred found himself clung to the bar all night, nursing a beer in his hand. He didn’t like muggle alcohol as much, but he supposed it would do. 

The bar was in the back of the crowded club, but it barely had any people by it. Everyone had rushed to the front of a stage, the entire room filled with enthusiastic screams. George hovered near the back of the crowd, where Fred could still see him, swinging back and forth to the music they played over the speaker.

Fred and George had liked going to concerts after the war. The flashing lights and loud noises were difficult at first, very difficult, but it was one of the things that helped them recover.

Fred looked around over the top of his drink, surveying the crowd. It was mostly made up of people who looked like him five years ago, people who hadn’t been through a war, or lost their ex-girlfriend in that war. People who didn’t feel like crying every second of every day. The crowd didn’t look like you or Fred.

Someone knocked on your door, their words muffled by the ringing in your ears. You shook your head, letting your hair fall naturally in it’s place over your scar. You pulled up the high boots you wore, and fixed the sheer tights that dove into them. Pulling the top of your tank top to cover your chest some more, you felt the cold air hit your slightly exposed stomach. You stood off to the right, backstage, waiting as people poked and prodded at you, fixing wires and handing you things to hold that they would eventually take back from you.

The nerves still didn’t come, but you hadn’t expected them to. Nothing made you nervous anymore, nothing made you feel anything, really.

Someone held the curtain open for you, and at the slightest movement the crowd roared. Fred turned his gaze towards the stage, and George moved forward in the crowd.

You looked out into the sea of people, and you could make out a few faces in the front. You had requested dulled lights for all of your shows, unable to handle the bright lights that often came with performing. A purple light hovered above you, illuminating you with the cool hue.

You cast a smirk out into the audience, moving to your mark at the center of the stage. Your band filed in behind you, and you tugged at the cord for the microphone, giving yourself some slack. The crowd was still just as loud as when you came out, and you started your first song.

You couldn’t hear anything but your own voice ringing through your head, booming through the earpiece tucked behind your hair. 

From the bar, Fred found his glass shattered on the floor beneath him. It hadn’t even made a sound over your powerful voice coming from what felt like every angle. He couldn’t move, his eyes just locked on your almost unrecognizable face. Even though you looked like him, tired and full of regrets, eyes sunken and cheeks hollowed, he would recognize you and your voice from anywhere.

He had heard you sing almost everyday since he met you. You hummed next to him in class, you chorused obnoxiously in the common room, and you sang to him softly while the two of you laid in bed.

Looking at you now, bent at the knees and almost squatting as you nearly screamed the chorus for what he could assume was your own song, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Everything washed through him, the guilt, the sadness, the worry, the pain.

George was next to him in a second, shaking him by his shoulders. A gleeful smile spread across his face and he just chanted: “She’s alive, she’s actually alive, Freddie!” over and over.

Fred couldn’t believe it, he had always wanted something like this to happen, to replay it all and make sure you hadn’t died, and now that he saw you living and breathing he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Fred ducked into the bathroom, splashing water over his face until he felt like himself again. He fixed his hair, regretting not getting a haircut earlier in the week like he had wanted to. You did always like his hair long, though. He looked down at his buttoned down shirt, the flowy sleeves rolled up halfway up his arms. He tucked it into his jeans, trying to smooth it out some.

George was waiting from him outside the door, biting his nails.

“She’s amazing, mate,” George said. Your voice echoed around the room, and still floated to their ears from the corner they had hidden away in.

“She always was,” Fred mumbled.

“I can’t believe it,” George said, his mouth agape and shaking his head in a disbelieving way.

“Do I look okay?” Fred asked his brother, holding his arms out a little.

George tugged at the sleeves, evening them out and making the rolls more neat.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling Fred with him.

The two sat and listened to you sing until Fred couldn’t take it anymore. The brothers left the venue, moving out onto the chilly London street. They walked around the back, where your crew had parked. They waited.

You finished your show, leaving the stage with the usual rush of adrenaline. You could never sit still inside after a show, and you rushed past your crew and out the back door. The cold air hit your skin, nipping at your sweat covered face and torso. You reached back inside, your hand finding a stool with a pack of cigarettes on them. You came back outside, fiddling with the package. You pulled one out and brought it to your lips, and realized you didn’t have a lighter. These were the moments you wished you still had your wand. It was always easier to smoke when you were a witch.

“Need a light?” someone spoke, coming from out of a shadow.

You immediately felt tears brimming your eyes, looking into the familiar brown eyes and flaming red hair.

“George?” you croaked, voice weak from the singing and the tears threatening to spill over.

George and you took steps towards each other, and he wrapped you in his arms. You cried into his chest, not really knowing why. You supposed you missed him, or maybe it was the fact that he looked strikingly like the boy who had broken your heart.

“Y/n,” another voice, a voice you would know always, called from behind him.

You shrunk from George hesitantly, wiping your eyes. You looked down at your hands, seeing them covered in smeared black makeup. You looked back at George’s shirt and saw a similar mark. You looked up at him apologetically, but he just beamed back at you, waving it off. You watched him pull his wand from his side, and with a simple movement, the stain was gone. You felt yourself crying harder.

You turned back to Fred, who had also started crying. The two of you lunged at each other, a mess of forceful limbs trying to wrap around the other.

“I thought you died,” Fred called out, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

You sobbed in response, your body shaking against Fred’s. He pulled your tighter, like he had regretted ever letting go.

You felt like you could never compose yourself, but you eventually did. Fred’s eyes were red and swollen, and you had wiped the tears off his cheeks. He did the same charm George had done to get the makeup off his shirt.

You led them inside, back into the venue. All of you sniffled as you walked together. You waved to security, telling them they were with you, and ignored your manager as you slipped into your greenroom. 

“You were amazing up there,” George said, taking advantage of the full bar you had in the room.

You took the glass he had made for you, gulping down the harsh alcohol in one swig. George chuckled, ducking into the mini fridge and handing you a soda.

“So your a muggle now?” Fred croaked, his eyes locked on his glass.

“Turned in my wand after the war,” you answered, putting the soda on the table beside you because you couldn’t trust your shaking hands.

“We missed you,” George spoke, sitting next to you on the couch.

You forced a smile on your cracking lips, glancing at him.

“I thought you died,” Fred spoke, finally looking up at you.

Your eyes widened, mouth opening slightly.

“Couldn’t find you after,” George said, forcing himself to remember, “looked almost all night. Lifted every stone we could find.”

Your eyes drifted down, tears filling them again. You swallowed hard, hating yourself immediately for the pain you put them through. You couldn’t even compare it to the pain Fred put you through, because at least you knew he was alive.

“I left,” you mumbled, lip quivering a little, “Just after the dust settled. I flew home and packed everything I owned.”

Fred scoffed across form you, and both you and George’s head shot up to look at him.

“I thought you died,” he repeated, sounding harsh.

“ ‘M sorry,” you mumbled, tasting the warm and salty tears falling into your mouth.

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” George whispered from beside you, swallowing hard.

“I dunno,” you admitted, wiping your tears with the back of your hand, “I just had to leave. I didn’t think you would have wanted to see me.”

You spoke to Fred, referencing the harsh breakup a month before the war. He looked at you, hurt in his eyes.

“Of course I wanted to see you,” he said, sounding hurt that you could even think that.

“You broke it off with me, Fred, what was I supposed to think?” 

“I only did that to keep you safe!” Fred yelled.

“Well it didn’t keep me safe! It just hurt more!” you shouted back, pulling your hair off your face and behind your ears in a stressful motion.

Fred looked at you, shocked. His eyes fell to your scar, and you covered it with your hair again.

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke, sounding regretful.

You nodded your head, looking at the ground.

“I’ve missed you, Y/n,” George spoke, his voice soft, “here.”

He slipped a card into your hand, and you looked down at it. It was a business card. Your mouth widened into a smile, and before you could stop yourself, you were laughing.

“Did George Weasley just give me a business card?”

George smiled back at you, chuckling with you. 

You examined the card, reading the gold writing. ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, Fred and George Weasley’. The card had an address on it.

“Visit the shop some time,” George said, standing, “I’ll meet you at home, Fred?”

Fred looked at George, furrowing his brow. George made a motion for Fred to sit, and Fred sighed. George hugged you and left you with Fred.

You two sat in silence, he nursed his whiskey and you picked at you fingers.

“You really were amazing up there,” Fred finally said, putting his glass on the table.

“Thank you,” you said sheepishly.

“I still love you, you know,” Fred said confidently, looking straight into your eyes.

Your lips parted, hearing the words you had wanted to hear for about a year, and you didn’t know what to say.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

Fred stood from his chair and moved over to you, sitting next to you. His hand found yours, and you sat together. Neither of you had felt anything like this in a long time. The numbness receded into you, allowing space for love and relief to fill you. Fred no longer felt the weight of guilt and worry, all that banished just by a glance at your face.

Your hand still shook in his, and he held it tightly until it stopped. He turned towards you, bringing a hand to your face. He pushed your hair off your face, looking at you scar.

“Is that from-” he trailed off, his thumb tracing the mark.

You nodded, flicking your eyes away from his. He snaked it hand behind your neck, and pulled your face close to his. His lips connected to your scar, and he held you there for a moment. You closed your eyes, melting into his touch.

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again,” he mumbled into your face.

“Me neither,” you whispered back.

[lombredanslaeu]

sin a little closer [jaehyun] | m

genre: smut

warnings: infidelity, not proofread so there might be some mistakes

donate something on my ko-fi account if you like this! it would really help me with my current studies. <3

“I don’t care about being beyond redemption as long as my hands are around your neck.”

Jaehyun has shouldered a lot of responsibilities ever since he was young. Being the only child in the family, he was raised to prioritize family duties above anything - that includes his personal choices. When he got married to a girl he barely knew at the age of 26, he never expected to be happy. Yet, here he was at the fruitful age of 28, with growing fragments of joy in his heart. Half of the world would guess that he found solace with the bride he married two years ago.

But that would be false. He wasn’t happy because of his wife. He was happy because of you.

You looked at yourself in the rear view mirror of your car, dabbing a finger to your lips to fix the makeup. On your right side was a line of extravagant houses, probably owned by lawyers, doctors, CEOs, and the like. On the other side was still a line of expensive houses, except this side is where your lover resides.

The sound of the radio was faint. Your head was buzzing with excitement as you can finally see Jaehyun again. You can finally hold him and feel him after a long week. Now, you just have to wait for his wife to exit their house so she can go on her way to her family’s trip.

Your eyes followed Jeongyeon as she walked out the front door and into her car. She was the epitome of beauty and grace. You don’t need to know her for you to find out that she came from a family of great wealth & power. Her stature and aura speak for herself. She’s beautiful, that’s a fact you can never deny. Too bad Jaehyun doesn’t love her.

Her car drifted away into the night. You waited a few minutes before stepping out of yours and into Jaehyun’s front door. Your fist was still in the air, about to pound gently on his door, when it opened. You barely caught a glimpse of his face before he pulled you in and kissed you with so much fervent. His hands wasted no time taking off your coat so he can feel you a little better.

“You missed me this much?” You smirked.

“I always miss you so much.” He replied, allowing a tidal wave of heat to rush to your face. You love Jaehyun. It’s been five years since you’ve known him and every time you look at him, it feels like the first time.

It must have been you being drunk from his kisses but you never noticed that you’ve arrived at his bedroom until your back hit the soft mattress. The sounds of lip locking and fabric rustling filled the atmosphere. Jaehyun’s hand travelled from your knee to under your skirt. You knew he loves it when you were skirts and dresses, it gives him more access to his most favorite parts of you. You clutched on the fabric of his shirt as he moves his lips from your lips to your neck. You slipped your hand under his shirt and grazed your nails softly against the smooth skin of his back. Your action earned a groan from him. You move your hand further up his back, lifting his shirt along the way. He removed the garment off his body before taking your top off as well. In a matter of seconds, your clothing is scattered all over the floor.

Jaehyun moved south. You knew what he’s about to do next and yet, you still felt giddy. His hot breath raised goosebumps on your skin.

“You’re always so glorious, baby.” He whispered, kissing the top of your mound. His hands squeezed your thighs, missing the way they felt.

“Please, Jaehyun.” You whispered to the sky. He hasn’t done anything yet but you were already gripping the bed sheets.

Jaehyun licked a long stripe up your folds. This was his most favorite meal of the day. And he was deprived of that for a full on week. He knew better than to not devour you like a man scared of never tasting something so delicious ever again. You writhe, squirmed, and begged. Each heavenly sounds that came from your mouth was a gift for Jaehyun. He almost felt unworthy of having to hear such divine music. It wasn’t long before your orgasm hit you. But that didn’t stop Jaehyun from tasting you.

Once he decided that he couldn’t wait any longer, he climbed up to press his lips against yours. Aligning his cock to your entrance, he whispered unholy things to your ear. The fact that you are naked, skin to skin with a married man in the same bed he sleeps with his wife made you clench around the tip of his cock that was already inside you.

“You want me so bad, baby? You pussy is sucking me in.” He whispered against the skin of your cheek. Pushing a sharp thrust, he filled your aching hole. The overwhelming pleasure made it hard for you to breathe.

“Holy fuck, Jaehyun.” You moaned. Your fingers gripped the wrist of the hand that was wrapped around your throat as Jaehyun did things that holy creatures would turn their heads away on.

Jaehyun loves you so much and he was never afraid of letting you know that. He pounded deep inside you, letting you know that his dick is the only thing allowed inside your pussy. You belong to him but he sadly does not belong to you. You didn’t care though. You accepted every spark, every toe-curling sensation that Jaehyun gave you. He lifted your knees up and folded them against your chest, making you unable to do anything but clench around his angry cock.

“You’re so dirty. Allowing me to fuck you like this.” He groaned, his tone almost animalistic. ‘Don’t come before I tell you so.”

“But I want to come now.” You whined at his order. Your hands tightened its grip on the bed sheets as you hold yourself back from tasting heaven.

“Don’t come yet or I will come on your stomach.” He warned, smirking as you shook your head from his ultimatum.

Jaehyun continued to fuck you harder each time until he couldn’t hold himself back.

“You’re so good for me, angel.” He cooed, holding your cheek with his palm. “Come for me now.”

And you did. You threw your head back from the intense pleasure. You clench around him tighter than how you did before. Jaehyun loved that so much, how your already tight pussy becomes even more tighter when you came.

“You’re really desperate for my cum inside you.” He whispered, earning a soft, tired moan from you. You nodded your head vigorously. After a few thrusts, you felt him paint your walls with his hot cum.

“You want the world to wonder who made your belly swollen, huh?” Jaehyun thrusted small strokes after he filled you with his cum. When he finally pulled out, he plunged two fingers inside your pussy to push back as much cum as he could. “If that’s what you want then take every drop.”

After the sexual energy has died down, you found yourself entangled with Jaehyun. His sleeping figure beside you gave you the greatest sense of comfort. Your eyes travelled to the bedside table on your left. It holds all of Jeongyeon’s belongings. It was until tonight that you realized.

You realized that Jaehyun has been married for two years now. And sooner or later, you knew that you would have to stop seeing him. He has told you countless of times that he loves you so. You believed him. After all, he kept on seeing you even after his marriage. He flew you to Bali just so he can see you during their honeymoon. But it’s been two years. If he loves you so much, wouldn’t he do everything just to be with you?

Here you are, fucking a married man in the same bed his wife sleeps in. It was wrong and it was a sin. But mostly, it was unfair.

You knew Jaehyun first, you loved him first. And yet, you still weren’t the one he married in front of the altar. It was unfair.

You carefully slipped your body away from Jaehyun’s grasp. He was a heavy sleeper so he barely noticed. Once you put on all of your clothes again, you looked back at the only man you’ve ever loved. A small tear slipped from the corner of your eyes as you silently bid goodbye to the man you so badly want to be yours but could never have.

You left his house with the intention of never coming back again.

Unbeknownst to you, Jaehyun had plans of breaking off his marriage with Jeongyeon the first thing tomorrow.

But you didn’t know that and you probably never will.

[kim-ruzek]

family we chose

Summary: spec fic for season nine bc that photo of paddy with painted nails Sent me. (Ft. Dad!am and cuteness)

Warnings: Cute adorableness and the possiblity you may die from how fluffy it is.

Word Count: 3.6k (lol can you believe I thought this would be 1-2k?)

Read on AO3

Notes: Paddy + painted nails + Theories = me going fucking crazy with feels.

“Adam, are you done yet?” Makayla calls to him, her voice a whine. Six year olds are not known for their patience, and Makayla is no different.

“Almost,” Adam replies as he finishes up putting away the freshly washed plates from their dinner. Makayla is old enough that she can play, happily and contently, by herself without his participation but during dinner she had asked him if they can play princesses and who was he to say no?

Especially when it helps distract her from the awkward questions she’s asking about Kim, and the clear anxiety and worry which is clearly plaguing the girl, the missing presence of her adoptive mother hanging over them both like a dark cloud.

It’s day two of Kim being in the hospital—day three, if he was to count the night Kevin and Jay found her. She had been in surgery for hours, and it had killed Adam to have to stay away, to not he at the hospital, but Kevin stayed on the phone with him and he was grateful for that.

And it was easier knowing that he was doing what Kim would want, that he was looking after her little girl, helping to preserve some normality in Makayla’s life.

When he had looked after her that night, he had just told her that Kim was busy at work, and he could see that Makayla had sensed that wasn’t just it, but for the most part she believed him. The next day was more difficult, however.

They knew that Kim is going to be okay. She has quite the recovery ahead of her, and she’s nowhere near ready to leave the hospital—she hasn’t even stayed awake for more than five minutes, and even that might be too generous. And so Adam had the task of telling Makayla this.

In his years as a cop, he’s had to do a lot of notifications and telling people that their loved ones are in the hospital but it never gets easier, and none of it could prepare him for having to tell Kim’s six year old.

It had gone better than Adam had thought, with him discovering that he’s a little better at this whole thing than he assumed he’d be. But Makayla’s worries and fears was clear; Adam having to reassure her that Kim will be coming home, and that in a few days, she’ll be able to see her.

“And,” Adam had told her with a smile, hoping to distract her. “Until then, we can have lots and lots of fun together.”

His goofy smile and his light hearted voice seemed to reassure her, as she had smiled at him them, an adorable toothy grin that somehow—even though it makes no sense to as why—reminded him of Kim.

Makayla had asked him if they could make Kim a card, to which he obviously said yes, and they had a fun evening with card, paint and glitter and Adam thought that maybe he’ll actually be able to do this. She did, however, when night came ask if she could sleep in his—Kim’s—bed and, although it sent him briefly into a panic, he immediately said yes, wanting to be able to report to Kim that he did everything right.

“Adam!” Makayla calls impatiently again and Adam laughs, shaking his head slightly.

“I’m coming,” he says, walking to her and taking a seat beside her. His bones complains about how low to the ground he has to be, but Makayla’s bright smile makes it worth it.

“Okay then, lil darlin’, how do we play princesses?” He asks her and her smile widens at her new moniker he’s given her. He called it her yesterday, right after yet another thought that Kim and her may not be blood related, or even known each other for long, but there’s already so many similarities between the two came to him.

“I’m not that small, Adam! I’m third tallest in my class!” Makayla had initially protested to the lil part of name.

“I know you’re not that small,” He had agreed, even though to him, she is, obviously. “But you’re lil darlin’ because you’re Kim’s daughter and Kim is darlin’.”

He had then momentarily freaked out, because he’s not sure how she feels about being called Kim’s daughter, and because he was scared that she’d think he was forgetting all about her mother, the one who raised her for six years.

But Makayla didn’t seem to mind, in fact, she seemed to beam wider at it. She made it clear that she liked Kim and her having matching monikers, and that she’s Kim’s junior—and thankfully, she didn’t ask why Kim is darlin’, as Adam had no idea how to answer that.

Makayla, now, in response to his question, jumps up and runs to her bedroom. She’s back shortly after, with a box filled with princess outfits, and bright materials, like a fluffy neon boa scarf.

“Here!” she places the box down, smiling proudly. Adam eagerly returns the smile, before fishing out a tutu out of it. He holds it up, grinning goofily at her.

“Somehow I think this won’t fit me.” He jokes and Makayla giggles.

“Of course it won’t, silly. You can use some of Kim’s clothes!” Makayla tells him.

Makayla quickly chooses what clothes she—and he—is going to wear, wrapping the neon boa scarf around his neck proudly. And then she’s going back to her bedroom, coming out with a smaller, more delicate box.

“First, we need to put on this!” She exclaims, opening the box to reveal kid makeup, nail polish and some stickers. Adam raises his eyebrow.

“Kim says we have to put it on before the clothes, so we don’t get the nail vanish on it.” Adam thinks she means varnish, her mistake making his heart constrict at the adorableness. Makayla then grabs this sheet, putting it over the rug.

“And we need to make sure we don’t mess the carpet,”

With that done, Adam peers into the box. “Okay, what colour do you want to paint my nails?”

It’s not a sentence Adam ever thought he’d say, not at this time anyway, but he doesn’t mind. Not even when Makayla’s eyes fill up with glee and mischief as she happily exclaims;

“All of them!”

Adam isn’t one who takes much photos, especially as he got older and more serious, and had less things in his life he wanted to document. But he takes lots after him and Makayla dress up, wanting to have a record of this for when Kim is properly awake.

And, if he’s honest, for himself, as—despite the love of his life being in hospital in the ICU—this is the happiest he’s been in a while. He snaps photos of not only Makayla, but himself, capturing his made up face, the tiara on his head and his multi-coloured nails.

Makayla is at school the next day, and Adam is in Kim’s hospital room. He’s showered and washed off his face, and in his clothes, obviously, but his nails are still painted. Makayla seemed to be really happy at him letting her paint his nails—saying offhandedly that her uncle never used to let her paint his nails—so he kept them. That, and because he couldn’t find the remover for it, of course.

“Hey, Kim.” Adam says softly. Kim’s not awake, still sleeping and if it wasn’t for the bruise on her face, the hospital gown, and all the wires surrounding her, Adam would think she looks so peaceful, like she’s just slumbering in her bed at home.

She’s off the ventilator, now, and Adam thinks that he’ll be able to take Makayla in to see her tomorrow, even if she’s not awake when he does, because she doesn’t seem as scary, as hit and miss and near death.

He’ll never be able to get the image of her lying attached to the ventilator, the day after they found her. Adam had dropped Makayla off at school and headed straight to the hospital. Kevin had met him outside, and warned him it wasn’t pretty, and he thought he was prepared—but nothing could ever prepare him for that.

Adam sits down next to her bed, now, lightly holding her hand in his. He’s immediately brought back to all those years ago, to when she was shot the first time, and she was in the hospital. He feels just as sick as he did then, feeling as if half of his heart is gone.

He can’t help thinking how this is the reverse of then, too. Back then, he had to hide how he felt from everyone, the only one who knew was Kim. And now, now he doesn’t have to hide it, everyone in his unit knows just how much he loves her, but Kim doesn’t—or rather, perhaps, can’t see it, for whatever reason.

He’s caught up in this thought that he doesn’t notice her stirring, her eyes opening. He only realises she’s awake when she squeezes his hand—weakly, still not strong—and his eyes look up from the spot they’ve been staring at and to her face.

Kim’s eyes are only half open, heavy lidded, but she’s awake and she’s looking at him. Currently, the only people who has gotten to see Kim, awake, is the doctor, the nurse and Kevin and Trudy. Adam knows he’s needed by Makayla, but he can’t help but feel envy, jealousy, that others got to have her see them and he hasn’t.

But now she’s awake, and she’s looking at him. There’s a smile dancing on her lips, soft and gentle but so, so Kim. His mind can’t help but go back to that first time she was shot again, and about the smile she gave him then, when she realised he was there, with her.

“Adam,” Her voice is barely there, dry and hoarse, coming out a little more than a whisper. But his heart skips a beat at hearing her say his name, and he knows he should calm himself, because Kim has made it clear that dating isn’t on the table—even if he thinks her reasons are nonsense—but he can’t because he loves her, because he nearly lost her, because he’s spent the last few days looking after her daughter and wishing she was his as well, because she’s awake and she’s looking at him and she’s saying his name.

“Hey, Kim.” He says again, managing to catch himself just in time before he accidentally slipped out a darlin’ instead. Her eyes glance down before glancing back up, her smile widening.

“I like the nails.” Her smile is playful, teasing and even though her voice is still dry, he can hear the amusement in it. Adam looks down at his hands, still around hers, and he feels oddly exposed, that it’s apparent just how desperate he is for them to be a family.

“Makayla and I played princesses.” He tells her, proudly, shrugging off any feelings of desperation and insecurity. He then pulls back from her hands, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

“I took photos—if you want to see?” He offers, watching as Kim’s eyes light up. She instantly tries to move, to adjust herself so she’s sitting up more and he immediately stops her, jumping to help her instead.

Kim shifts over, encouraging him to sit down on the bed so that she can see the photos with ease. She’s been in the hospital for days, and the sterile smell clings to her, but he can still smell her, the essence that’s just Kim as she rests against him. He tries to calm his beating heart, but that’s impossible whenever Kim is around him, whenever she is on him.

Especially right now. When all he can think about is how much he loves her, and how domestic this all feels, showing her photos of her daughter, the daughter Adam’s been looking after.

Adam is showing her the photos, getting near the end of the mass he took, when he realises she’s stopped cooing. He thinks she must’ve fallen back asleep—understandable, depending everything her body has been through—but when he looks down at her, she’s still awake.

She’s not looking at the photos, but at him. There’s a softness, affection, in her expression and Adam doesn’t quite know how to read it.

“I love you.” She says then, her voice the clearest it’s been. He blinks, stunned, not expecting that to come out of her mouth.

“Kim—” He goes to say that they don’t need to talk right now, that he doesn’t need to hear this, but she continues, fixing him a look—a look that reminds him a fair bit of Trudy—telling him to be quiet.

“When I was in that warehouse, dying, all I could think about—other than Makayla—was you. I even called out to you; all I wanted was you, to have you save me. I thought I was going to die and all I could think about was how we’ve left things, how I’ve pushed you away. You’re my person, Adam. I know, now, I’m never going to want anyone else and all what I’ve been trying to convince myself about you, about us, it’s bull. I love you, and I never want to be scared that I’ll die without you knowing that ever again.”

This is everything Adam has wanted to hear for years, and exactly what he’s been desperate for ever since, right before Kim fostered Makayla, they slept together again. It’s embarrassing how many nights he’s spent lying awake, staring at his ceiling, wishing for her to say this to him but now, when it’s actually happening it, all he can do is stare, stunned, at her.

“Kim,” He says again, her name leaving his lip sounding quite like a plea. Hearing her say this, hearing her tell him this, it means more to him than he could ever describe and he doesn’t know exactly how to express that, how to express the thoughts and feelings in his mind, in his heart.

“Look, we don’t need to like. I don’t expect anything from you. I know we have stuff we need to talk about, I can’t click my fingers and make everything that’s happened between us okay. But I needed you to know this—I thought I could wait, until I’m better. But you—you let Makayla paint your nails,” It’s so much more than that one gesture, Adam can tell. He can tell from how she says the words, the way seeing his nails painted means so much to her, that it signifies something so much more important than just him having fun with her daughter. And he can tell because he knows her, knows Kim better than he even knows himself.

And he understands exactly what she means, excited what she’s feeling. When he let Makayla paint his nails, he did hope that it would show Kim that he’s taking his role seriously, taking the fact that he’s their family seriously, but that wasn’t why he let her. Adam let her because she’s an adorable child, because she’s Kim’s daughter, because she deserves to be happy. He wasn’t thinking about what he could personally gain from it, it was just something he did without much thought, something that just made sense to agree too—just because Makayla asked.

Adam can see that Kim understands that, and that’s what’s resonated with her, that’s what’s making her look at him like that, with love and adoration and utter affection, a look he hasn’t quite seen in her eyes since the day he proposed to her.

It’s the first time since Kim was pregnant and let him in that hope blooms in him; that Adam has hope that finally, finally, he’ll get his girl again.

He softly strokes his thumb against her hand, before lifting it up and giving it a gentle kiss. “I know, darlin’.” He doesn’t hesitate or hold back now, knowing that it will be received well, and Kim smiles at it.

Adam notices then that she’s looking tired, and realises that her body needs more rest. He gently puts down her hand. “Rest, now. We can talk more about this—us—when you’re better. You need to rest and recover, because I know there’s an adorable six year old who misses you very much.”

Kim smiles again and Adam’s heart warms at the sight of it. “And darlin’? I love you, too.”

She falls asleep shortly after that. Adam doesn’t particularly want her too, not ready to stop seeing her awake, to talk to her, to see her smile and hear her voice. But he’s okay with it, because she wants him and she might be asleep now, but they have all the time in the world, the rest of their lives, to be together.

A couple days later, Kim has gotten stronger and needs less wires, the bruise on her face going down and colour returning to her face. She’s still got such a long recovery ahead of her, and she still needs to be in the hospital for a few more weeks, but Adam can finally bring Makayla with him.

The six year old is very excited, waking Adam up at an unholy time in the morning, practically jumping around the place. She’s made Kim another card and several pictures—some of which includes Adam in them, which warmed his heart—and while she understands Kim can’t come home just yet, she’s still very happy she can see her.

Adam walks through the hospital to Kim’s room, Makayla on his hip—although the way she’s bouncing, squirming with barely contained excitement, it’s a miracle Adam is able to keep hold of her.

He’d have let her bound ahead, walking by herself, if it wasn’t for it being a hospital, Adam wanting to make sure she’s contained and doesn’t cause any destruction.

There are many perks to being a cop, and being able to weave through the hospital with ease just with the wave of your badge is one of them. Although, Adam’s badge isn’t around his neck, Makayla having claimed it for herself.

“Can I wear it?” She asked him that morning, when he explained to her why he was wearing it around his neck, on display. He had agreed, not only because she’s too cute to say no to, but because she’d be carried by him, which would clearly show the other adults around that he was a cop, even if she was wearing it.

“Uncle Kev!” Makayla greets Kevin enthusiastically as they approach Kim’s hospital room. Kevin’s been sitting with Kim until they arrive, and at Adam’s text that they had, he had clearly headed out, ready to greet them.

“Hey, M.” Kevin ruffles Makayla’s curls, the girl grinning as he does so. He then nods in greeting to Adam; the two men still need to have a long conversation—in which Adam knows his role will be too listen, the only words being an apology—and they won’t be totally fine until they do, but there’s an understanding between them.

“How is she?” Adam asks Kevin, discreetly asking if Kim is tired, so he can prepare Makayla for that.

“Good, getting better and better. She’s been napping all morning, so she’s ready for this little one,” Kevin ruffles Makayla’s hair again. “Now, M, Adam’s explained that Kim’s gonna need to take it slow? That it might be scary—but she’s okay, she’ll be home before you know it?”

Kevin’s years of raising his siblings is displayed in how he talks to Makayla, using a soft, but adult tone?

After Makayla nods in answer to Kevin, Adam’s walking into Kim’s hospital room, the six year old on his hip. Kim’s sitting up in her bed, ready and eager to see Makayla. A wide, happy grin overtakes her face as soon as they enter and Kim sees Makayla.

Adam puts Makayla down as soon as they cross the threshold and she wastes no time running up to Kim’s bed. She does hesitate before jumping onto the bed, taking a step back and cautiously climbing up at the end, not wanting to accidentally sit on Kim.

Adam watches this, and watched how then Kim guides Makayla into her arms, her daughter immediately snuggling into them, looking happier than she’s looked in days. The scene tugs at Adam’s heart; they really do belong together, that is clear, their bond strong and true.

“Come cuddle, Adam!” Makayla then looks back at him, smiling that grin of hers, beckoning him over enthusiastically. He hesitates, not wanting to intrude on the moment, on Kim’s reunion with her daughter, but then Kim smiles at him; a big, loving smile which invites him over.

“Kim, guess what?” Makayla turns back to Kim as he heads over. “I’m lil darlin’! And it’s not ‘cos I’m short, but 'cos I’m your daughter!”

The way this makes Kim feel is clear to Adam, her expression open. She responds to Makayla, but she catches his eye, and Adam knows exactly what she’s trying to express to him.

When he reaches her bed, Kim pats her other side, encouraging him to sit down with them. It’s a tight fit, Adam barely on the bed, but it’s nice. He lifts up his arm, wrapping it around Kim, and she leans into him, Makayla snuggling against her still.

Makayla quickly urges Adam to pass her bag to her, so that she can show Kim all the stuff she made for her. Kim’s face lights up at them, looking with awe and wonder and love but all Adam can think about is how well the three of them fit together, that they’re already like a family.

There’s so much to discuss and work out, but Adam is looking forward to what the future holds if this is even a small glimpse into what it’ll be like.

[little-butterfly-writes]

Hi love, i have an idea for our beloved scientist lucien from mlqc. If its okay i would like to request a oneshot about reader being so jealous that she even cry and lucien reassure her , smut lucien x mc ✨

A Jealous You

Hey darling, this was such a delicious request. I got a bit carried away because I can relate to the jealousy and insecurities.

Wordcount - 1844

Warnings - NSFW!!!, Jealousy, Insecurities, Refusal of a few meals, Unprotected vaginal sex, internal cumshot, oral sex (female receiving)

A/N - I named the other woman Hana, sorry to anyone with that name! You are MC.

I watch from behind the pillar in Lucien's lab. A woman is talking to him in his office. It looks like she works here, she's wearing a white lab coat similar to Lucien's.

I wait until she leaves before going into his office. Lucien greets me with a smile before wrapping his arms around my waist. "Hello, my little butterfly." He kisses my forehead. "Did you have fun spying on me?" He asks.

My eyes go wide at the question. Lucien chuckles softly, holding me close. "I didn't know that you saw me." I mumble, resting my head on his chest. "You can't hide from me, baby." He coos gently. "Who was that, Lulu?" I ask, looking up at him. "She's an intern that just graduated. She'll be here for a month." He answers. I sigh softly, placing my palm on his chest as he gently sways me. "Don't worry, my eyes are only on you." Lucien says.

We stay like that for a few minutes before packing up to go home. We spent the night cuddling together in our apartment.

The next morning, I woke up to an empty bed. I checked my phone to see that Lucien had to go to the lab because the intern made a small accident. I groan and get up, stumbling into the bathroom.

I look at my reflection. 'That woman has prettier hair than I do. Her body is so nice too, she's stunning,' I think to myself. My nitpicking goes on in my mind until I hear the front door open.

I go outside to the living room, wearing my comfy clothes. I can't help but think that the intern doesn't look like this, she's probably wearing nice clothes and looking pretty.

In a sour mood, I start up some tea in hopes it'll cheer me up a bit. Lucien places a bag on the kitchen island. "I brought breakfast for you." He wraps his arms around my waist. I sigh, melting into his arms. Lucien kisses my cheek.

He pauses for a moment, looking at me deeply. "Have you been crying?" He asks, voice full of concern. I shake my head 'no'. "Don't lie to me, MC, your eyes are red."

I sigh, looking back at him. "Yes, I was. I just saw a sad video about a puppy and got a bit sad." I lied. Lucien nods, kissing my cheek again before placing the pastry on a plate. I stare at the food, thinking about how that lady must not eat pastries whenever she wants. I shake my head, returning to my tea.

Another day passes, my mind filled with doubt and insecurities. I haven't eaten as much as I usually do. Lucien seems worried, but I keep telling him I'm fine. He doesn't press, but he definitely knows something's wrong.

I walk into Lucien's office, seeing the intern. Lucien walks up to me, placing a hand on the small of my back. "Hana, this is MC. MC, this is the intern I told you about." Lucien's introduction finally gives me a name.

Hana. What a beautiful name...a lot better than mine.

I force a smile. "Oh, Professor was talking about me?" Hana says, voice sweet like honey. My jaw clenches, of course it's melodious. My nose stings, prickling up to my eyes. I force myself to extend my hand, almost robotically. "Nice to meet you." I say, attempting to keep a steady voice.

We finish exchanging pleasantries, Hana leaves with a cheerful goodbye to Lucien. The second she's out, I let a quiet breath of air out. Lucien turns to me, hand still on my back. "My love, when will you tell me what's wrong?" He asks, rubbing my brow with his thumb. "I'm fine, Lucien. I promise. If anything comes up, I'll tell you." He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine. "If you say so." Lucien pecks my lips.

While walking out, the dean of the university nearby stops us. "Hey, Professor Lucien! Here's an invitation to the charity gala the school's hosting. You and your girlfriend should join us!" He slightly pleads. Lucien chuckles, holding me by my waist. "It's Saturday evening, correct? We'll be there." Lucien confirms. I nod along to his statement. 

Saturday night rolls around. Lucien bought me a new dress to wear to the gala. Donning the dress, I apply some light makeup as Lucien gets ready.

As soon as we arrive, my eyes are drawn to Hana. She's wearing a beautiful dress that hugs her body, strapless and showing off cleavage. The light lavender color matches Lucien's eyes, her makeup complimenting it. Black hair curled perfectly lands on milky skin.

I sigh, feeling simple. Unworthy to be by Lucien's side. Hana's perfect compared to me. I squeeze Lucien's hand tighter. "We'll say hello to the dean, maybe get a dessert and then we can go. Is that okay?" He says while wrapping an arm around my waist once more.

I nod, swallowing hard and moving to go see the dean. As we wait to talk to him, Hana comes up to us. Lucien's hand is now interlaced with mine. "Lucien, I'm going to get a drink. Be right back." I say, letting go of his hand. I move to grab some water, staying close with my back turned so I can listen in on them.

Everything I hear from them is mumbled. There's so many people talking near me. I focus, catching Hana's words. "Lulu, I know you have a girlfriend, but I really think we should be together. I mean, we're both scientists and work with each other...I think I'm better for you." 

My heart sinks. She's right, she is better for him. I choke back a sob, blinking tears back furiously. Lucien's voice comes up clear, "With your position, you should call me Professor Lucien. And my relationship with MC is perfect, I love her for who she is and she loves me the same way. Do not try and convince me that you are better than her." His voice is still sweet, but a lot firmer. 

I hear her sigh, clopping off in high heels. I hand the glass back to the waiter, moving towards the exit.

Lucien follows me, quick by my side. "MC, wait." He pulls me into his arms. I hide my face in his chest. "Lucien, I don't want to stay. I'm going to go home." I cry. He cradles me gently, leading me outside. "I know, baby. I'll take us home." He hushes.

The car ride home is silent. Lucien holds onto my hand as he drives while I look out the window, tears streaming quietly. 

Lucien holds me close as we walk up to my apartment. I let out a few sobs, trying to stay quiet. 

We walk in, Lucien locking the front door. "Let's go wipe your makeup off." He whispers. I nod, going into the bathroom and washing my face. When I walk out Lucien is in the bedroom. Waiting for me.

I walk closer, stopping to look at myself in the full-length mirror. Lucien comes up behind me, wrapping both arms around me. "Is this what's been upsetting you?" He asks, rubbing circles on my stomach. I let out a small yes. Lucien sighs into my hair, kissing there softly.

"I know you are jealous of her. I want you to know that you're all I want." He kisses my temple. I breathe in deep, relaxing back in his arms. "You're the only one for me, there's no one else I want to love." The whisper in my ear makes me tear up again. "But there's so many better people than me." I choke out.

"To me, you're the most gorgeous woman I know. Your heart is always accepting of anyone in need. Your intelligence is brilliant to matter what. I'm proud to call you mine." Lucien turns me around, kissing the corner of my eye. He unzips my dress, slowly. It's like he's unwrapping a fragile gift. I wrap my arms around his neck after he removes my bra. "Thank you, Lucien. I love you." I sigh. Lucien hums, grabbing my rear and squeezing lightly. 

Lucien lays me gently on the center of the bed. "I love you too, my love. My one and only." He kisses down my sternum, moving to my stomach. "My soulmate. Mine. So gorgeous, inside and out." Lucien removes my panties softly, happily staring at my core. I try to shift my legs closer, but Lucien holds my thighs apart with a tut. 

"No baby, let me love you." The words a honeyed murmur against my legs. He kisses up my thigh, ending them on my clit. Lucien goes for another, licking a long stripe against my slit. I moan when his tongue trails my labia before shoving his tongue into my sex. The wet muscle thrusts slowly, his thumb pressed on my sensitive nub. Loud cries escape my throat as he licks me up faster. I feel like withering away from the tortuous pleasure. Just as I'm about to reach my climax, Lucien pulls away. He wipes away the arousal covering his chin. I whine, wanting my orgasm he tempted me to. 

"My love even tastes sweet. What else could I need in a partner when I have you?" Dark lust swims in his eyes. I sit up and help him undress, slowly becoming impatient. Lucien lays me back down, working himself in his hand. The first inch he slides in burns slightly, but I want more. I hold onto him tight, not wanting him to leave me. He waits a minute for my tight heat to adjust to him before pulling back, only for him to push back in.

I whine, my hips bucking up for more. Lucien kisses me, fingers toying with my sensitive nipples. His thrust steadily increases speed, his groans sounding against my skin. Lucien strokes my hair away from my face. I dig my fingers in his shoulder, leaving little crescents there.

A particularly hard thrust makes me moan loudly. "Are you almost there?" He sweetly asks, moving his thumb back to my bundle of nerves with another hard thrust. As a response, I squeak, my orgasm surprising me as I clench around him. It must trigger him as well, hearing his deep grunt. We stay like that for a few minutes, panting and holding each other. The warm liquid is already leaking out of me.

Lucien pulls out, leaving the room. He comes back seconds later with a wet cloth, gently wiping sweat and mixed essence from my body. He delivers a sweet kiss as he puts some clean panties on me. Lucien goes back to the bathroom to clean himself off. I move under the covers, already feeling exhausted from tonight. 

Lucien comes back, wearing his briefs and snuggling up to me under the covers. "No matter what, I will love you forever. You are mine, and I am yours. You are the only woman for me."

[let-it-raines]

What a Lie We’re In (3/3)

Summary: All Emma was doing was trying to be nice. Her roommate didn’t have anywhere to go, so she invited him home for the holidays. She thought it would be fine and Killian would be a good buffer for a week at home with her parents. That is until her ex-boyfriend showed up, and while she was freaking out, Killian told him they were dating.

That would have been fine except her parents overheard it.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I had such a fun time writing this trope-filled, ridiculous story, and you all have made it better with your excitement over it! I was not expecting that at all, and it’s been a fun ride! I hope you enjoy this last chapter! 🎄❤️

Ao3: beginning | current

Tumblr: One | Two | Three

-/-

Oh my God.

Like, oh my freaking God.

Emma groans. Or at least she thinks she does. She can’t hear much of anything over the pounding of her heart and the hissing steam coming out of her ears like an angry animated character.

Seriously, Mom. Seriously. What the hell?

“No,” Emma manages to say, pulling back from Killian. She snatches her hands away from his chest and moves her lips from his mouth, but the bastard still has his hand planted on her ass, keeping her pressed against him on the kitchen table.

Oh shit. She was just about to sleep with Killian on the kitchen table where she did her homework growing up, where she has breakfast with her family.

She was just about to sleep with Killian.

What the hell is wrong with her? Did she take medication she’s not aware of because this is...this is definitely not her.

(Or it is, but she doesn’t want to admit it.)

“Yes,” Killian mutters seconds after her. “Yes, you were.”

She gapes at him and then slaps his chest, and he glances away from her mom to look at her, eyebrows raised and slightly swollen lips smirking at him. It makes her realize her face is sensitive from the scratch of his beard, and she reaches up to touch her mouth.

What is she doing? What has she done?

Emma shakes her head. “What are you doing down here? You and Dad went to bed.”

“Um,” her mom hums, switching her feet, “I was going to get some water, but I don’t need it now. I’ll go back to bed and see you two in the morning. Happy Christmas Eve, Emma. Killian. Goodnight.”

“Happy Christmas Eve, ma’am,” Killian says back. Emma doesn’t think she can speak anymore, especially when Killian’s hand is still on her ass.

Emma was buzzing earlier tonight. That is long gone.

She watches as her mom walks away, the old stairs giving away her movements, and even when all the noise begins to disappear, Emma finds her feet planted in the same place they were. That has to stop.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, pulling back from Killian enough that they’re separated. “Oh my God. What the hell?”

Emma starts pacing, her hands tugging on her hair, and she really, really wants to scream at the top of her lungs right now despite knowing that would be a bad idea. The last thing she needs is her dad waking up and coming downstairs to find her in the state she’s in. The state Killian’s in too. His pants are ridiculously tight, and they don’t hide much.

Holy crap, she did that.

“Emma, love,” Killian begins, and she does a horrible job at ignoring how destroyed his voice sounds, “that was – ”

Emma spins around to look at him. “A one-time thing,” she finishes. “We can’t do that again. We’re tipsy, we’re not thinking straight. We just need…what we need is to get ready for bed and sleep it off. Tomorrow is Christmas, and then we’ll be going home early the next day. They’ll be no more of this idiotic putting on a show for my parents, and we’ll get back to thinking like rational people. Agreed?”

He looks down before looking at her. “Aye, agreed.” Killian stands from the table and brushes past her. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a cold and bracing shower. Feel free to finish making your hot cocoa.”

He walks out of the room, and Emma is left in the kitchen staring at everything spread out across the counter and the now-cooled milk sitting in the pan on the stove. Her body is still on edge, desire a permanent fixture deep in her belly, but she refuses to think about any of that. She had her little moment of fun, and now it’s gone. She’s back to just trying to survive this time at home before she gets to go back to Boston and try to survive her time there as well.

What an awesome recurring theme for her life.

Emma puts away all the hot chocolate ingredients, pouring the milk down the drain and rinsing off the pan before she turns off all the lights downstairs and walks upstairs. Killian is in the bathroom, so she strips out of her dress in her room and quickly changes into some pajamas she bought today on their way to the play. That dress was freezing last night, and she needed something that covered a lot more of her skin since she still hasn’t managed to get around to washing her clothes.

She’s so glad she did that now.

She makes do with makeup remover wipes, hoping her skin forgives her for one night of not washing her face, and she does the same with her toothpaste, rubbing it on her teeth with her finger. She could wait until Killian gets out of the shower, but since she knows exactly what he’s doing in there, she’d rather just deal with the cards she’s been dealt and go to bed. That way she doesn’t have to see him or talk to him for the rest of the night. It’ll be better that way. There will be fewer opportunities for her to mess everything up.

Emma turns her ceiling fan off, hating the way it creaks when it spins, and gets under the covers, pulling them up and basking in how warm her bed is. She needs to invest in one of these mattress heaters back in Boston because damn, this is great.

She’s comfortable, tired, still a little tipsy despite her mom’s interruption sobering her, and on any other night, she’d easily be able to fall asleep. Tonight, her mind has decided to run a marathon in record-setting time.

Seriously. What’s wrong with her? Why would she do this? Why is she always making dumb decisions like this? It’s got to be a medical condition at this point, and whatever pills she needs to go on to make it stop, Emma is willing to sign up.

Why would she kiss Killian?

He was the one who started it, sure. She was going to make them hot chocolate even if it was her third mug of the day, and they were probably just going to chill on the couch and find a movie to watch like they’d been doing most of the day. Then Killian came up to her and pressed up against her. He was so warm and smelled fantastic, and when he ran his nose against her ear, Emma could have melted.

She doesn’t melt over guys. Nope. She is not that type of girl. She is not freaking Frosty the Snowman.

It’s a physical attraction. That must be it. She knows he’s hot, she knows he thinks she’s hot, and it’s not something they’ve necessarily denied all this time. There are always jokes and little looks and a hell of a lot of teasing moments, but it’s never been anything deeper than that.

More importantly, they’ve never acted on any of it.

Tonight was just a blip on the radar, the one-time thing like she said, and when they get home, everything will be normal. This week and all of its weirdness will be forgotten. If not, she’s going to have to go sleep on Ruby and Dorothy’s couch.

The bedroom door slides open, a sliver of light from the hallway coming in with Killian, and Emma closes her eyes. She tries not to move, to fall asleep, but she’s aware of every one of Killian’s steps as he closes the door behind him and gets into the bed. He shifts a little, but other than that, he stays far enough away that she can barely feel the heat of his body.

Good. He can stay far away, and Emma can get a peaceful night’s sleep.

-/-

Emma doesn’t get a peaceful night’s sleep.

Not even close.

She never really drifts off. Instead, it’s this constant almost. She almost falls asleep all night long, but instead of blacking out into darkness, she lives in this state of dark gray. So close but so far away from what she wants.

They made a mistake. That’s all that happened, and Emma has to live with that. It won’t be nearly this awkward when she and Killian go back home. Then they’ll have their own rooms, and more importantly, their own beds. This will all be some distant, funky little memory. Emma can act like it’s all fine and normal for the next twenty-four hours.

She’s been acting like things are normal with her parents for years. She can do the same thing with Killian Jones.

Emma sighs and flips over. Killian is still on his back, his chest rising and falling slowly, and she’s jealous he can sleep so peacefully. She’s jealous that his mind isn’t running and freaking out over everything. He probably got everything he wanted out of her and is moving on fine.

That’s the attitude she should have.

Emma flips again, grabbing her phone off the nightstand. It’s five in the morning, and usually, she’s not allowed downstairs this early on Christmas morning. But she’s twenty-eight. It’s not like she believes a magical old man is climbing down the chimney leaving presents anymore.

Quietly, Emma gets out of bed and takes her phone with her. She walks downstairs and makes a beeline for the coffee maker. It takes far longer than it should to be ready, but eventually it’s ready. Her dad will make them a big breakfast this morning like he has most mornings she’s been here, so Emma doesn’t bother fixing herself food. She shivers at the thought of having to eat at the table and be able to keep a normal conversation with her parents. Ignoring that awful thought, she moves to the living room with her coffee and turns on the TV.

Emma is unsure of what exactly she’s watching for the next several hours but in the darkness of the morning with the Christmas tree glowing next to her, it’s enough to make her forget everything until her parents come walking down the stairs and the dark thoughts rear their ugly heads.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” David greets at the same time Mary Margaret says, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Emma returns with a smile.

“Where’s Killian?”

“Still asleep.”

“Why don’t you go wake him?” her dad asks. “I could use a hand cooking breakfast.”

“I think I’ll let him sleep for a little bit more, but I’ll get him before you start cooking the eggs, okay?”

David leans down over her and kisses the crown of her head. “Sounds perfect.”’

The movie on the television ends, the credits quickly rolling before another one starts. She doesn’t recognize it and knows it’s probably not any good, but she watches it anyway. When she was a kid, Christmas morning was so different. She’d wait at the top of the stairs and then rush down them when she was allowed to see what Santa left under the tree. It was like real-world magic.

When did Emma lose that sense of wonder?

The stairs groan behind her, and Emma turns to see Killian walking down them, hair and t-shirt rumpled. He got the memo on not bothering to do anything with his appearance, apparently.

Suddenly, she’s thankful to have her mother here as a buffer. He won’t try to talk to her about last night when they’re still faking it in front of her parents. For the first time this entire trip, she hopes her mom never leaves to go sit in another room and talk on the phone with one of her friends.

“Morning, darling,” Killian whispers when he walks up to her. Emma cranes her neck back, putting on the show for her mom, but she nearly jumps when he leans down and lightly presses his lips over hers. They haven’t been doing that. It’s strictly been cheek or forehead. Bastard. “Happy Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you. I think Dad wanted you to help him cook breakfast. Are you up for that?”

He smiles. “I knew I’d grow on Dave. I’d love to help. You just stay on your ass and watch TV, being the most unhelpful person in this house.”

“Watch it, Jones.”

Killian’s brows dance across his forehead, and he teasingly grabs onto her earlobe before walking into the kitchen. Emma shakes her head and smiles as she brings her coffee mug to her lips.

“I’m so glad you’ve found Killian,” her mom sighs from her spot on the other end of the couch. “It’s good to see you happy now that you’ve found him. You’ve been so miserable lately.”

You have got to be kidding me, Emma thinks, her knuckles going white around her mug. She tries to take a few deep breaths, to calm herself down, but it’s been year after year of this same damn conversation without her mom listening.

Sometimes Emma thinks she’s shouting from the rooftop of an abandoned building with only empty rooms around to hear her.

If a woman yells in a forest and no one is around to hear her, does she really make a sound?

“I’m so sick of this, Mom,” Emma sighs, placing her mug down on the coffee table and bringing her knees to her chest. “I love you. I do. And most of the time I can understand where you’re coming from, but I was happy before I found Killian. Not totally, but I was happy. And you never seem to get that. You think I have to be in a relationship to have self-worth. God, is that why you’re still so friendly with Neal? I can’t think of any other reason other than you feel like I need to be with someone.”

“He’s a good man, sweetie. He was your first love. He’s – ”

“He’s not a good man!” Emma slaps her hands against her shin. “He broke my heart and ruined my life! He made me not pursue a stable future because he convinced me he knew what was best for me and then left me with nothing in the middle of the night. That isn’t a good man. That’s the opposite of a good man. If you had ever bothered to ask me why we broke up instead of immediately assuming I did something wrong, maybe you’d know that instead of inviting him into our house and acting like everything is fine.”

It feels damn to get all of that out even if Emma knows she’s about to send her mother into a tailspin.

That’s years of pent-up resentment and anger, or at least the beginning of it, and it’s…it’s, well, cathartic, even if it’s only the beginning.

“But he was - ”

“Oh my God, Mom,” Emma laughs, and she hopes the fan in the kitchen is loud enough that her dad and Killian don’t hear, “if you say he was my first love, I will leave this house right now and never come back. I get that you and Dad worked out, but that’s because you’re good for each other. I can guarantee Dad never abandoned you in the middle of the night, and I can especially guarantee that he didn’t pretty much emotionally abuse you for years of your relationship. Do you know what it’s like to have the one person in the world you love most basically tell you that you’re nothing? I’m not nothing. I was never nothing, but Neal could never see that.”

Emma hasn’t thought about her relationship with Neal in years. It’s something she pushes back and hopes to never have to deal with, and yet, here she is digging it all up because her mom made a comment Emma couldn’t let go.

Merry Christmas to us all.

“Emma, I’m sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Emma shrugs and looks into the living room where Killian and her dad are standing side by side cooking. She’s pretty sure her dad is about to try to poison Killian or stab him with a kitchen knife, but that’s a problem for another time. “But you should have. You should have when I called you crying, you should have when I told you I wanted to change my name because I felt like it could be a fresh start as my own person with no one holding me back. Instead you demonized me and put Neal up on a pedestal that you’re still putting him on. He’s engaged, Mom. I’m with - well, like you said, I’m with Killian. And even if neither of those things were true, you should be able to listen to me enough to know that being with him has never been good for me. So, please, God, just let me live with my life. I’m never going to be you. I’m never going to be perfect.”

Her mom wipes underneath her eyes, and Emma now feels like the shittiest person in the world for making her mom cry before eight on Christmas morning. How can she be so pissed off and sympathetic all at once?

“I am obviously not perfect,” Mary Margaret sniffles. “You’re my only daughter, and I apparently haven’t known you at all despite trying. I just can’t believe you changed your name. Was that really necessary? I - ”

“Nope.” Emma holds her hand up and stands from her chair. “I’m not having this conversation again. Maybe at another time we can hash all of our shit out, but I really don’t feel like doing it right now. I can’t get into that with you again.”

Emma picks her mug up from the coffee table and walks into the kitchen where Killian is moving a plate of her dad’s pancakes to the table.

“Mmm,” Emma sighs, “something smells delicious.”

Killian nearly drops the plate to the floor, but he saves it at the last minute. It’s not until he looks at Emma with raised brows and a million forehead lines that she realizes what she’s said.

Yeah, nearly having sex on her parents’ kitchen table goes high up on the list of Emma’s worst ideas.

“Everything alright with you, love?” Killian asks. He brushes his hands on his pants and then walks toward her, dipping his head down until he’s eyelevel. It’s unfair how blue his eyes are.

It’s unfair how much she notices stuff like that now.

“Yeah,” Emma lies while her heart races, “everything is just fine.”

-/-

Nothing about any of this is fine.

She shared too much with her mom, and even with it all out in the open, Emma doesn’t think she’ll ever be understood here. They were so blind to so much. One conversation can’t open the floodgates to knowing it all because they’ll never really understand the hell she went through, and now instead of being at peace with it, all Emma wants to do is pick fights with her parents

Like a totally rational adult woman.

So that’s not fine. What’s also not fine is the way Killian is sitting pressed up against her on the loveseat as they open presents. It’s too close, and it’s too much to watch him open presents from her parents that are genuinely thoughtful despite them only knowing each other for three days.

It’s all too much, and she is ready to get home, sleep in her own bed, and go back to the monotony of her life.

Because there she doesn’t have to think about any of this. It’s out of sight and out of mind, just the way she likes it.

They eat breakfast leftovers for lunch and dinner, and slowly but surely, the day fades away, the lights on the tree dimming a bit the closer to midnight it gets. Her parents leave to meet some of their friends for a drink, and she and Killian stay in the house, still lounging on the couch in their pajamas barely saying a word to each other. All day they’ve been having to play up their relationship, more than they have been, and she’s exhausted from it. At one point she wanted to let the truth fly, but she’s not evil enough to hurt her parents more than she already has.

She also doesn’t have the energy to get into another fight.

“You okay, Swan? You’ve seemed a little down today.”

Or maybe she does.

“Fine,” she mutters, pulling her blanket higher up her chest.

“Are you sure?” Killian prods. “Because we haven’t talked about last night, and I heard a bit of your conversation with your mom this morning. It’s perfectly alright not to always get along with family. It’s complicated. I understand that.”

Emma blows air out of her nose and turns away from Killian to watch the TV. “Please. You’ve got peanuts compared to the full-blown circus I have.”

It takes Emma approximately two seconds to realize that she has, to put it gently, fucked up.

Killian rises from his side of the couch and brushes his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands until they fall in his face. He sighs and shrugs his shoulders, defeated. “I am never going to dismiss how you struggle with your parents because it obviously affects you, but you do not get to sit there and say shit like that to me when I am only here with you because my family is all dead. I would give anything to have my loved ones here to fight with because at least then there would be the possibility of repair.”

He shakes her head and clicks his tongue before running it over his bottom lip. “Happy Christmas, Swan. I’m going to bed. We still set to leave at nine tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah. Killian, I’m - ”

“Don’t bother. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

He walks up the stairs, and Emma falls back onto the couch. The new year is a week away, but she’s already asshole of the year.

Way to go, Emma.

How the hell is she supposed to fix this?

Emma pours herself another glass of wine and falls asleep on the couch after an hour of beating herself up about her general shittiness as a person. She only wakes when her parents come in and there’s a gentle push at her shoulder.

“Emma,” her mom whispers, “Emma, come on. You’ll hurt your neck if you sleep down here.”

Emma opens her eyes and groggily stands as her mom hovers over her. She’s still half-asleep as she hobbles out of the room, her mom following behind her up the stairs, and before Emma closes her bedroom door, she pokes her head out to look at her mom.

“Hey, Mom?”

“Yeah, hon?”

“You know I love you, right?”

Mary Margaret smiles, but it’s a little sad. Emma’s got no clue how to fix what’s between them, and she knows it’s not all on her to fix. At one point they were so close, and for so long this distance has been because Emma has refused to extend the olive branch and refused to be honest.

But also because her mom refused to see a lot of reality.

At least they’re both still here and have the opportunity to heal what’s been broken.

“I love you, too, Emma,” Mary Margaret whispers. “It’s been so nice having you home.”

She doesn’t say it, but despite all of the crazy things that have happened in the past few days, it’s nice to be home and to have someone care about her by making sure her neck doesn’t hurt from sleeping on the couch or by fixing her breakfast in the morning.

By pretending to be her boyfriend so she didn’t have to deal with an ex.

Emma nods and steps into her room. She’s as quiet as possible when getting into bed, and she doesn’t even say anything when she notices Killian is more on her side of the bed than his. Instead, she slips into that small space and hopes she can be forgiven too.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers before closing her eyes.

-/-

She’s half asleep in the morning when she first feels Killian move. They’ve done a pretty good job in staying in their own space while sleeping, but considering where he was when Emma got into bed last night, Emma wasn’t holding high expectations for this morning.

Not that she really thought about it.

But there’s definitely a hand on her boob and a half-erect dick pressed into the crevice of her ass, and as much as she doesn’t mind the feeling, she’s thankful when Killian moves, leaving her to the chill of an empty bed as he leaves the room to do who knows what outside.

-/-

What he does is shovel snow with her dad, help her mom with some last-minute tips on the renovation of their barn out back, and pack up their bags for the drive home. He’s cordial and affectionate as she says goodbye to her parents, promising to video chat with them more often so they can talk more, which Emma is simultaneously dreading and looking forward to, kind of like this ride home.

-/-

The drive back to Boston happens in almost complete silence, and if Emma didn’t have the radio to keep her company, she’d scream because the silence is so damn loud.

-/-

It’s the new year now.

Has been for about a week or so, and Emma spent the holiday out with Ruby and Dorothy and all of their friends. She wore a sparkly, slightly slutty dress that had her freezing all night long, but everything about it felt wrong.

Everything about everything feels wrong.

Well, that’s not true. For the first time in a long time, when she talks to her parents, it feels like they actually listen instead of projecting their own hopes and dreams to her. They see her as a person with feelings and failure instead of an idealized daughter who fits into their little, perfect box. She has to talk about shit she doesn’t want to talk about more often than not, but Killian’s words keep ringing in her head.

At least she has family around to fight with and to have those hard conversations with.

Killian isn’t around the apartment much. He comes in and out to eat and sleep, but ever since the car ride from hell, he’s been scarce. She’s tried to find time to see him, to apologize for being a dick and for all of Christmas as a whole, but that’s hard to do when she lives with the invisible man.

That’s hard to do when she has trouble admitting she was in the wrong.

It’s even harder when she has trouble admitting to herself that she has feelings for Killian Jones that far surpass just roommate feelings. Emma doesn’t know when the hell that happened or what to do with it, but it makes every night that she can’t talk to him torture.

How is it that she always screws everything up? And how does she go about fixing broken things when she’s still holding the hammer that broke the glass?

Maybe all she needs is an opportunity to talk to Killian where she can’t run away.

Yeah, all she needs is to just see him.

-/-

Why is he at this bar right now?

Okay, the real question is why is she at this bar right now? She had a hellish day at work, and all she wanted was to sleep. That’s all she wants to do lately, mostly because it means she doesn’t have to share the common area with Killian. If she’s sleeping, she doesn’t have to see anything, and everything is much, much better.

Or much, much worse, but Emma is trying not to think about that.

She’s trying not to think about Killian at all, which is decidedly not working out well when she thinks about him at least thirty-seven times a day. Thirty-eight now that he’s standing at the other side of cozying up to the most gorgeous woman Emma has ever seen. She’s tall and tan and has legs that go on for days. She looks like Ruby, and while Emma doesn’t know her, she seriously does not like her.

Because she’s lost her mind and has developed fucking feelings when she hasn’t wanted to do that, especially with someone she can’t get away from.

“Hey.” Ruby nudges her shoulder into Emma’s. “Why do you look like you want to punch someone? Am I that someone? Please don’t mess up my face. My makeup looks fantastic today.”

“Is that the only thing you’re concerned about?”

“Look at me. Doesn’t it look great?”

Emma rolls her eyes and sips on her wine. “You look great. Is that why you dragged me out here?”

“No, it was because you’ve been moping ever since you came home from Storybrooke. I know your relationship with your parents isn’t the best, but it’s not bad enough to have you grouchy for two weeks.”

How much would it be for Emma to drink the entire bottle of wine?

“I mean, it sucked, but I feel much better about my parents than I have in a long time. It’s more...I don’t - it’s - ”

“Killian Jones.”

“How did you know that?” Emma looks at Ruby, but she’s looking over Emma’s shoulder and toward where Killian was standing.

Ruby shakes her head. “Huh, no, I didn’t. That’s Killian standing over there. Wait.” Her red lips part. “What happened with you and Killian? Oh my God, did you fuck Killian when he went home with you?”

“Quiet,” Emma hisses, as if Killian could hear her over the music and the yards of distance between them. “No, I didn’t fuck him. I mean, I almost did, but my mom walked in.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Ruby gets in Emma’s face, and Emma really wishes Dorothy would show up and distract Ruby. “I need details.”

“That’s all there is to know.” Emma tips her glass to her lips, but there’s nothing left. Dammit. “We’d had a little to drink, and it...happened. Nothing else to tell.”

Ruby arches her brow. “So that’s why you’re not talking to him but staring him down and wishing you could pull that girl’s hair out?”

“I’m not doing either of those things.”

“Emma Swan is a li-aaaaar.” Ruby raises her hands and yells across the bar. “Hey, Jones!”

“Ruby Lucas is de-aaad,” Emma sing-songs back before straightening her back and sitting as tall as she can. To get the best leverage to kill Ruby, of course, not to make her boobs look good in this sweater.

“Hello, Ruby, Swan,” Killian greets. The woman who was hanging onto his arm is gone now, but Emma is sure she’ll see her back at their apartment later. “You both look lovely tonight.”

“Same to you, handsome.” Emma rolls her eyes as Ruby drags her finger down Killian’s button-down. It, of course, despite the cold temperature, is half-buttoned. “So, Emma hasn’t said it, but you two need to talk and get over whatever tiff you’re in. Whatever Emma did, she’s sorry, and she really wants to make out with you again.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Emma mouths to Ruby as she slides her forefinger across her throat. “Seriously.”

“Love you,” Ruby says, blowing Emma a kiss and walking across the bar to where Dorothy just walked in. Now the woman decides to show up. Of course. Why couldn’t she have been here two minutes earlier?

In a perfect world, Killian would laugh Ruby off and walk away, but this is not and has never been a perfect world. Hard conversations aren’t avoidable. Instead, they come at you like a freight train with no breaks. You either crash or jump on. Emma is wondering if she can simply jump off the tracks.

“Swan,” Killian starts, but Emma decides she’s going to jump off the tracks. She doesn’t want to do this. She grabs her coat and heads out the door, pushing past Ruby and Dorothy on her way out. This will cause ripples in her relationship with Killian no matter what. She can’t imagine he’ll want to stay living with the woman who was an ass to him and dismissed his brother’s death because she was so caught up in her own issues.

Seriously. Asshole of the Year. It’s officially official now.

It’s stopped snowing in the hour since she entered the bar, and instead of a fresh white coat, the ground is covered in slush that’s been walked over hundreds of times, footprints burying down to show the sidewalk. It’s wet and disgusting, and Emma tugs on her coat as she flees to keep her from getting hypothermia or some other awful disease.

There’s a tug on her hands, and suddenly she’s being pulled backward. She braces herself for a fight, but when she sees it’s Killian, she braces for another kind of fight.

He arches his brow. “What? You going to make a man drink alone in there?”

“I’m not in the mood for a drink. Or a man. Besides, it seems like you already had company with that freakishly long-legged woman who was desperate to make out with you.”

Emma knows that’s mean. She wishes she had legs like that woman, and she wishes she were the one who could hang out at a bar and flirt with Killian like that.

She really messed up there before things could begin.

“Why, Swan? You jealous?”

Emma scoffs and turns away from him. “Like I’ve said, in your dreams.”

Killian drops her hand and moves into her space. He’s always doing that. Personal boundaries are nothing to him. “Aye, quite often.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you dream of the girl who was rude to you and can’t seem to apologize and makes you chase her out of bars even though you live together and could just talk at home. But I imagine you’ll have what’s-her-name there, so I don’t think that’ll be a great time for me to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Love,” he teases, moving his brows and absolutely smirking, “I’m not angry with you over what happened on Christmas, not anymore, and while I’d like to talk about that later, I’d really rather talk about how jealous you are thinking of the possibility of me kissing Victoria in there.”

What a cocky jerk.

Seriously. Who thinks that highly of themselves just to say something so arrogant?

“You can kiss or not kiss whoever you damn well - ”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence because Killian surges forward and presses his mouth against hers, not letting her speak or think or breathe as he kisses her.

And kisses her well, she might add.

Okay, well, that was unexpected.

Like, seriously unexpected. She thought he was about to tell her to go screw herself and find a new roommate because honestly, that’s what Emma would do if she had to live with someone who is as messy as she is.

It’s a lot to deal with, and her heart is still racing from their argument and her being on the verge of a meltdown, but much like the slippery, gross snow underneath her feet, she melts into the kiss (okay, so maybe she is one of those girls who melts like Frosty-the-freaking-Snowman), wrapping her arms around his neck as his hands come to rest just above her ass, tugging her further into him. This feels different than that first kiss, softer, slower, and maybe something else she just can’t place.

Right now, she doesn’t care to search for that word when for the first time in a long time, her life feels right.

“Did you just kiss me to shut me up?” Emma laughs against his lips.

“Did it work?”

Emma quickly glides her lips over his. “Maybe.”

“Good.” Killian presses his forehead against hers, and not to be Hallmark-level cheesy, but she has that thought again about something just feeling right. Terrifying but right. “And Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s fucking freezing out here. Do you want to go back to our place and have what I can only hope is some amazing make-up sex?”

“Can you have make-up sex if you’ve never slept together before?”

Killian pulls back and wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in until he kisses her temple. “We could find out. Or we could go home and see what’s on Netflix, eat some of your leftover Halloween candy.”

“Oh, bud,” Emma laughs, patting his chest and tilting her head to look up at him, “I stress ate that the day we got home from my parents’. But don’t worry, I bought some more last week.”

“I know,” Killian whispers, “I ate some of it when I was still pissed at you.”

Fair. she deserves that. She deserves much more than that, and she expects at some point, she and Killian will have it out like they deserve. She doesn’t get to just skip over the bad and into the field of lush flowers no matter how much it seems like that right now.

But at least there are flowers on the horizon.

“Was it the milk chocolate that made it all better?”

“Aye, it was.”

Emma drops her shoulders, and if she weren’t so sure she was awake, she would swear this was all a dream or part of her imagination from the emotional whiplash she’s experiencing.

“I guess I’ll have to find a new place to hide the candy then.”

“Oh, love, I’ll always find it.”

-/-

(PS: You can have make-up sex even if you’ve never had sex with that person before.)

(Emma and Killian were quick to test that theory out.)

(And eat the chocolate.)

-/-

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[moscnios]

                                        NOVEMBER FOURTH ━ﾞ

⁺◟ �� PROMPT . . .           “i know i can’t make you run away with me...”

⁺◟   CHARACTERS . . .           roronoa zoro           fem!reader           mentions of the strawhats

⁺◟   GENRE . . .           smut           fluff           oneshot

⁺◟   SYNOPSIS . . .           princess ( y/n ) has bigger dreams than           becoming a queen and trophy wife to a           man who she doesn’t love. she doesn’t           believe those dreams can come true           until she meets an unfamiliar swordsman,           who offers her an escape.

⁺◟   CONTENT WARNINGS . . .           unprotected sex ‘ light choking ‘ oral           ( female receiving ) ‘ dirty talk ‘ a bit of           over-stimulation ‘ etc.

⁺◟   WORD COUNT . . .           3.2k.

⁺◟   COMMENTARY . . .           ( k/n ) = kingdom’s name

a shallow swallow, followed by a silent gasp filled the dimly lit chamber, decorated with the finest silvers, golds, and platinums, all of which one could adore. the only light had come from the balcony on one side of the room. white silk curtains, made with the utmost care and finest silk in all of the lands, in front of the balcony had flown in with the nightly, cool wind allowing the moonlight to seep in, bathing the face of a young maiden dressed in a long sleeveless lilac satin nightgown, that touched the cold hard floor beneath her feet.

the straps of her satin gown were slipping off of her smooth shoulders. she draped her arm across her clothed breasts, chills going down her spine. she shivered in the nightly, sinful wind, as her head rested on the shoulder of a tall, well-built, green-haired gentlemen standing behind her.

he wrapped an arm tightly around her waist, pressing her smaller frame against his larger one. the green-haired man’s free hand had grazed the soft skin on the woman’s neck.

his touches were the opposite of his hands and how he usually was. usually, they were brutal, deadly, and could easily kill. with her in his arms, they were gentle, sweet, and full of love and admiration. even if the man was a little rough with her sometimes.

if only anyone had seen the roronoa zoro, pirate hunter and swordsman, had such a tender side to him.

if only anyone had seen who the woman entrapped in his arms was.

princess ( y/n ), the future queen of ( k/n ). she was a noble, one who hated her title since she was a weak child. the young princess was not interested in dresses, makeup, marriage and other formalities women around her age worried themselves with. she cared more for traveling, fighting, and fulfilling her own selfish desires and dreams, not those of the kingdom. it wasn’t much of a mystery as to why the dear princess was not married yet.

well, the fair maiden was engaged to be married. her wedding was all planned out and set to happen in only a few weeks' time. she would marry her a marine captain from the marine base on the island and her childhood friend who had loved her since he could remember.

a man whom she could barely stay in the same room with anymore without the looming guilt of indifferent feelings toward him.

no matter how many times those three words spewed out of her mouth...i love you...she never meant them. no matter how many times she would give the marine a kiss on the cheek to send him off for his duties or hugged him before the two had said their goodnights and sweet dreams to one another, she never felt the same way.

she did not wish to marry a man she did not love. she did not want to marry at all.

on one of her escapes from the castle, she had ridden through town, hiding her identity. her ( e/c ) eyes drifted to the long wall of wanted posters full of criminals. seeing the posters had always fascinated her, seeing the many crooks from all of the grand line. her favorites were the pirates.

oh, how she wished to be one, and run away from being stuck in a castle, in a dress. it was her biggest dream. being a pirate would help her achieve her dream of traveling across the world and learn about different islands and their past.

a historian is what you could say she wanted to be. but she could never do it under the roof of strict nobility parents and the man she was going to marry soon.

that day, her eyes had landed on two new posters that were added to the very end of the long wall.

monkey d. luffy

roronoa zoro

their bounties were impressive. she had wondered what the two could have possibly done to receive such high amounts.

and that was when the unthinkable happened. out of the corner of her eye, she saw a green-haired man with three katanas attached at the hip, traveling lonesome, looking around the town as if he were lost.

and he was lost.

when he had approached her for directions, she clung tightly to the wanted poster in her hands. zoro saw the poster in her hands, mumbling curses to himself.

“are you this man?”

“and if i am?”

as he sized her up, she had done the same. even as he threatened to unsheathed one of his katanas, she did not budge, rather challenging him to start a battle. before he could, an orange-haired girl complaining about him getting lost had dragged him away.

that, of course, was not the last time the pair had crossed paths. they had only continued to bump into one another, as the straw hats waited for their log pose to log the island so they could go to another one.

( y/n )’s feet carried her to the docks where she saw it, their ship. she kept her distance, unsure of what to think of her acquaintance's nakama, though they shared no ill-will toward her. the captain who was pretty accepting, even pulled her onto the ship with...stretchable...arms, which worried her. pretty quickly, she had learned of devil fruits and their powers, especially when the little reindeer began speaking to her.

the rest of them seemed nice and lovely. of course, it was only lovely, until his nakama began referring to ( y/n ) as zoro’s little girlfriend. except sanji, who was still set on referring to her as princess.

when his nakama had settled down, leaving the two of them. he had apologized for their behavior, to which she said it wasn’t a big deal. a short silence sounded the two of them before she had opened up to him. a man who would probably never understand what she was going through. a man who lived his days as a pirate swordsman with a bounty so high, her mother would probably drop dead seeing the two of them even near each other.

and he listened. he clung to every word like no one had done before. every word she spoke, was a melody to his ears. she did not expect him to say all the right things, and he didn’t. but he did make her think.

“why don’t you run away with us? don’t think we have a historian on the crew yet. do you want to fill that position? our captain does like you.”

the idea had run through her mind since he said it. it was on a night just like tonight, the moonlight beaming down, bathing them.

she just hadn’t expected to fall so deeply in love with the swordsman.

he allowed his wandering hand to gently grab her neck, his thumb and index finger lightly applying pressure to the sides of her neck, making her gasp once more, this one a bit louder than the last.

he slowly guided her head to look at him. her dark, lust-filled eyes had looked into his, breathlessly. he loosened the pressure, “i know i can’t make you run away with me, but i damn sure won’t let you marry some marine.”

“you’re doing a pretty good job at convincing me to run away with you, i must say,” she teased, with a playful smirk. zoro removed his hand, making the maiden pout a bit. with his strong arms, he spun her around in his hold, grabbing the soft plush of her clothed thighs through her satin dress.

“up,” he said lowly. she jumps, wrapping her legs around his torso, exposing her legs to him, leaving her satin gown to bunch up at her waist. she wrapped an arm around him, pulling his head in for a passionate kiss. he secured her legs around his waist, walking backward to ( y/n )’s large bed, stumbling a bit. as the back of his legs hit the mattress, he sunk onto it. he pulled away from the kiss, a trail of spit from their tongues breaking.

he pulled the straps of the satin gown down, the bodice following in suit, exposing her breasts to him. he wasted absolutely no time, alternating between rough kisses, biting, and suction. she kept a hand on the back of his neck, as she threw her head back in pleasure and a bit of pain. she knew she would be left with hickeys and bruises all across her breasts in the next few days.

“let that marine bastard see these the next time he tries something,” he muttered against her chest between wet kisses, making her giggle through a moan.

“so, that’s what this is? you marking me out of jealousy?”

“i’ll do more than just mark you,” he warned, pulling her out of his lap and onto the mattress, quickly climbing on top of her.

his eyes had darkened, filling with sweet lust as they raked over her naked torso. zoro shifted down, prying her legs open, occupying the space between them, his favorite place to be. he pushed up her bunched up satin dress to reveal her damp panties.

he took a finger, allowing it to slide up and down her clothed slit, staring deep into her eyes with a shit-eating grin. a string of impatient soft whimpers and sighs surpassed the woman’s lips, as she stared down at her lover between her thighs, just the place she had wanted him the most. but he wouldn’t give it to her that easily. she knew him better than that.

he had yet to plaster his favorite part of her in hickeys. her inner thighs. the green-haired swordsman could go on and on about his obsession with her inner thighs, though he preferred being smothered between them.

“zoro, come on,” she whined, allowing her impatient hands to roam his clothed strong chest.

“impatient, are we?” he raised an eyebrow.

“shut up and fucking do something, please,” she begged.

a low chuckle left his lips, “such a vulgar princess.” he pulled away from her, standing on his knees. the swordsman. he grabbed the sides of his white shirt, pulling it over his head, throwing it somewhere off into the darkness of the room. next, he untied his black bandana from his left bicep, as he climbed over ( y/n ). he took her wrists into one hand, tying them together tightly to one of the many rails of the bed frame above her head.

“zoro―”

the swordsman took her chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing her to look into his eyes, “impatient and vulgar princesses don’t get to touch. think of it as punishment. you’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you ( y/n )?”

the maiden nodded, as she gulped. she felt a wave of chills crawl down his spine as she squirmed beneath him, her legs threatening to close. “you like when i call you that, huh? you just want to be my little good girl, don’t you? i want words this time.”

“y-y-yes...zoro. i want to be y-your good g-girl,” she stuttered out.

he released her chin, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses down her body, stopping at the satin gown that still resided at her hips. his large hands gripped the sides of the gown, sliding them carefully down her legs, dropping it near the side of the queen-sized bed.

he opened her legs once more, leaving a trail of kisses, each kiss becoming rougher than the one before it. as he disconnected, she could hear a loud pop. he whispered, “you are so perfect,” between every kiss desperately as if he were never going to be able to tell her those four words again.

accompanying her deep sighs of pleasure and light pain, was a dark blush of embarrassment on his lover’s face. she could never get used to the swordsman saying such compliments while face deep in her thighs, near her delicate center.

body worship was his favorite thing, both receiving and giving, though he preferred giving. he gave one last rough kiss, before turning his attention to her now soaked panties. he slid the fabric to the side, revealing her glistening folds. “fuck,” he whispered, “i did this to you?’

“s-shut up,” ( y/n ), stuttered out, “don’t get all fucking cocky.”

he shook his head at her, allowing his fingers to spread open her glistening folds, before shoving two of his digits into her hot, wet hole. “nghh...oh fuck,” she breathed out, jolting forward against the restraints.

“what happened to being my good girl? you were doing so well,” he teased, scissoring her folds roughly. he watched with a smirk, watching her begin to lose her mind, her head tossed back in pleasure, as she tried to fuck herself onto his digits trying to match his pace. a tent formed in his pants, being restrained by the fabric of his trousers. when did his pants become so fucking tight? had they always been this way?

“you’re so fucking pretty like this. so. fucking. pretty. i hope you don’t mind me having a taste,” he muttered as he inched forward, licking a long stride up her folds, making her shiver. a loud sigh left her lips, as she pulled against the restraint, only making it tighter on her wrists. zoro chuckled against her heat, the vibrations going through her body.

he pulled away slightly, making her whimper. the swordsman spit between her folds in a way to claim her and her core as his and his alone. she could feel his spit running down her slit. it was always a sign that he would not stop until he was satisfied.

zoro grips onto her thighs, tight enough to bruise as he buried his rough tongue between her folds, drinking in her essence before his lips gently suckle on her clit. ( y/n ) gripped the rails just above her head in pleasure. the swordsman’s ears drunk up every moan, every whimper, and every cry that spilled out of his lover’s lips. he slid two fingers, curling them as his tongue circles her clit.

“zoro, fuck. i’m...ah...i’m so close,” she warned between mewls and pants. he did not stop his ministrations, rather, he continued listening to her sinful voice rising in octaves. his black, lust-filled eyes fixated on the way her face displayed the pleasure she was experiencing. her back arched slightly as her thighs tried to clamp shut, though his hands on her thighs were stronger, keeping her in place as he growled against her center.

“be still.”

her toes curl as a cry that was a bit too loud passed her lips and filled the air. her body squirmed underneath him, reaching that sweet peak. the first of tonight. he placed a kiss on her hip bone before pressing the pads of his three fingertips against her clit, rubbing rapidly. the room filled with overstimulated whimpering echoes of his name. “i know you can cum again,” he spoke, the friction of his calloused fingertips against her bud, ruthless. it didn’t take long for the band to stretch again.

“oh...fuck!”

the second peak. her body wrenched, eyes squeezed shut as she squeezed onto her the rails, the whites of her knuckles beginning to show. faded, white dots danced along the darkness of her closed eyelids, chest heaving in desperation for air intake.

zoro rose from in between her thighs, retracting his fingers, earning a small gasp. ( y/n ) laid there, her chest rising and falling, looking at the swordsman above her. his tongue wrapped around them, his black eyes never leaving his lover’s as he licked them clean, “you are as tasty as you look.”

he reached down, grabbing the hem of his trousers, “if it were any other time, i wouldn’t mind filling that pretty mouth of yours. but i’m aching to be inside of you.”

“finally,” she rolled her eyes playfully. he shook his head, “bratty until the very end, huh princess?”

“you fucking love it, roronoa.”

he smirked, “you bet i fucking do.” he pulled his trousers all the way down to his ankles, allowing his hardened cock to spring free. he pulled his trousers all the way off, flinging them onto the ground.

zoro aligned his head up with her core, rubbing the tip in her arousal to lubricate his cock before slowly singing into her tightness. a light grunt fell past his lips in satisfaction. he buried himself into her ever so deeply, making sure she felt every inch.

“fuuuck...” she mewled, head thrown back in pleasure. he slowly rolled out, only leaving the tip inside of her before snapping his hips forward in a hard thrust. he reached down, grabbing her chin, and planted an open rough kiss to her lips. as he pulled away, a string of saliva had connected their mouths.

each thrust hit the edge of her g-spot, sending shivers down her spine. he knew her body so well. a mix of profanities, moans, and skin slapping against each other filled the room. zoro felt every clench of her walls tightening around his cock, reaching down to rub at her clit. his thumb rubbed messy, rapid circles that had his lover folding in on herself with pleasure.

her eyes screwed shut, focused on the inner fire within her and the sound of the swordsman’s filthy words in her ear.

“if only you could see how you look. the future queen of ( k/n ), losing her mind, getting...fucked by a lowly pirate swordsman under the same roof her parents and fiancé,” he taunted lowly in her ear as he continued to thrust into her, “you’re mine, you understand that? you are my woman. no one else’s. no other royal, no other pirate, not even that damn marine, you belong to me. say it, say you’re my woman.”

“i’m...i’m your woman, zoro! i belong to you!” she cried out, feeling a burning, no, an aching in the lower pit of her stomach. zoro felt her clench around him, tighter than before, almost sending him over the edge. “zoro...i’m going to cum.”

his thrusts turned sloppy. he was just as close to that sweet release as she was. her orgasm hit like a hundred waves, a string of curses left her lips. the swordsman pulled away, pulling out of her just in the nick of time. he took his cock into his hands, jerking himself. white liquid spilled from his tip onto her lower stomach.

the room had gone silent for a second, as the two tried to catch their breath.

“my wrists are feeling a little numb now, can i be untied?”

“oh shit, i forgot. sorry, ( y/n ).”

zoro untied her wrist, retying his bandana on his bicep. he took her wrists into his hands, rubbing them as gently as ( y/n ) sat up. she watched him closely tend to her now-bruising wrists, seeing the admiration and love in his eyes. only near minutes ago, he manhandled her. now he was as sweet as could be.

“zoro...” she trailed off, making him look up at her. she continued, “when will you and your nakama leave?”

his face somewhat fell, “we leave in the morning. but maybe i can get nami to―”

“i want to run away with you.”

⁺◟   BACK TO NAVIGATION . . .

[talkfastromance4]

2.) Without Me--Ashton Irwin ‘Lovers in a Song’ series

a/n: So while each ‘chapter’ is titled after a song it’s more of the mood and a few choice lyrics that really made the story. This story changed a lot as I wrote it but in the end it all flows really nicely together. I’m so excited to share this with you! Each part is 3,000 with the exception of the last part. Please don’t hesitate to send me messages, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Word count: 3k

warnings: casual drinking, unprotected sex, fingering, slight angst 

Masterlist

LIAS masterlist

***

5 Years Ago

It’s raining cats and dogs on campus, the last night before graduation and Ashton is at one of the dive bars he frequented over his four years at school. There’s hardly anyone here and he’s staring at the bottle with his initials scrawled in golden loops with morose. After tomorrow when he walks across the stage, Ashton will take over the family whisky business. It’s been set in stone and passed on from generation to generation. It’s his namesake and his destiny.

“Go away! I don’t want to see you ever again and thank God after tomorrow I won’t have to!” A shrill voice erupts through the door. “Asshole!”

Ashton turns at the sudden outburst to see a beautiful girl drenched to the bone shaking off her coat before hanging it on the coat rack. Her hair hangs in wet strands reaching a little past her chest, her makeup is a bit smudged but damn, she’s a looker. Ashton’s seen her on campus and at parties but never knew her name.

She takes the seat one over from him.

“Rum and coke please, Teddy,” she asks the bartender setting her purse on the counter. She lets out a deep sigh and takes out a compact, snatches a napkin then dabs at her face. She closes the compact with a snap then smiles her thanks as her drink is presented before her. She drinks half of it in one go.

It hasn’t even been a minute and she’s already done so much to keep Ashton’s attention piqued. Who is this free-spirited woman?

“Can I help you?” her attention is directed at him, big eyes staring expectantly.

“Um, no, sorry you just…are you all right?” he asks.

“I am now,” she lifts her glass and takes another sip. “And now that my asshole boyfriend is an ex. I’m so glad I’m graduating tomorrow.”

“You are too? Congratulations,” Ashton grins and she smiles back.

“What’s your name? I’ve seen you around campus before.”

“I’m Ashton,” he holds out his hand making sure not to give his last name. Even if it is stamped on a bottle nearly six feet away.

“Cressida,” she returns and takes his hand.

Her hand is cold and wet from the rain, but a spark of electricity is transferred through them. They jump at the contact and laugh.

“I’ve never heard a name like that before.”

“My parents love Greek mythology. It means gold.”

“It’s also the third precious metal,” Ashton adds. Cressida raises her eyebrows and laughs. He only knows this because his family is trying a new concoction to add gold flakes in their newest whisky brand.

“What’s the first?”

“I have no idea,” he chuckles. “I should have paid more attention in science class. I remember gold because it’s beautiful, useful, and rare.”

“Are you sure you’re still talking about the gold or is this your Segway into a pick-up line?”

“No, no, I swear that’s not what I’m—”

“I mean it’s working in your favor, Ashton, so by all means,” she smiles interrupting his apology.

“Oh, it is, is it?”

Her eyes move to his empty glass.

“Let me buy you a drink, what’s your poison?”

Ashton doesn’t want to say whisky, it’s been on his mind since he was old enough to understand what it was. He’s also worried if he says it, Cressida will immediately know who he is. His family’s whisky is known all around the world.

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

An hour later they’re stools are so close together her legs have somehow found their way over his, and Ashton loves the warmth through his jeans. She notices the gold ring on his finger with a small ruby nestled inside.

“Is this real gold?” she asks tracing it with her pinky.

“Are you going to rob me?” he jokes.

“No, gold is only the third precious metal after all,” she giggles.

“It’s real. It was my great grandfather’s,” Ashton nods.

“It’s pretty.”

“You’re pretty.”

Cressida’s eyes sparkle up to his and the way he’s looking at her makes her stomach flip and her cheeks heat up. No one has ever looked at her with such intensity before, not even her asshole boyfriend.

“Are you doing anything between now and walking the stage tomorrow?” she asks taking a leap. Ashton shakes his head, and she leans forward, her lips grazing his cheek before touching his ear. “Wanna do me?”

Ashton slaps down some bills on the bar and moves towards the door as quick as he can helping her put her coat on. He notices there isn’t a hood, but he brought an umbrella.

“My apartment is only ten minutes away,” he says holding up his red umbrella.

They walk through the rain filled street, her arm looped through his as they talk about school and friends and what their next step is after graduation. Ashton tries to deter that conversation from him, he wants to forget about it if only for a night. And Cressida is the perfect distraction.

“I’m going to spend the summer in Europe,” she says, “I’ll be in charge of my family’s business soon, so I want a bit more freedom. I’m going to visit all of the museums and the historical landmarks.”

“That sounds really great, I wish I could do that.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m also taking over my family’s business as soon as I cross the stage it’s mine. It’s a big responsibility.”

She hums in acknowledgment then gasps when he stops at his building. It’s only slightly ostentatious with a secured door and a security guard inside. She’s staring at the gold mailbox slots when Ashton spins her into the elevator, she giggles against his chest. Then Ashton cups her cheek and slots his lips with hers.

She tastes like rum and coke and a night to remember, his last night of freedom. They’re stumbling through his door, removing clothes as quickly as possible. They roll around his sheets, laughing and moaning and exploring each other’s bodies. Ashton rocks into her and she moves easily, picking up on his pace like this is the hundredth time instead of the first.

“Wow,” she huffs when he collapses on top of her after he came in the condom.

“I’ll say,” he grins and pecks her nose before rolling off her to remove the condom. He retrieves two bottles of water and hands her one, climbing in next to her.

“So, Ashton,” she sighs staring at him with mussed up hair. “What is your family business?”

“I…I don’t know if I want to tell you.”

“What? Are you part of the mafia?” she snickers twisting her hair into a very loose braid. The ends of her hair tickle her nipple and Ashton slides his eyes to her face.

“No,” he laughs, “It’s just…people treat me differently when they know.”

“I can relate to that, that’s why I don’t go around shouting mine from the rooftops either. Tell me, I promise I will still look at you as the guy who picked me up at a bar because of a gold fact.”

Ashton rolls his eyes then takes a deep breath.

“All right. My family owns Irwin Whisky, my grandfather created it back in the prohibition days. After tomorrow, I’m in charge.”

Cressida is silent for a long time, just staring at him with a vacant expression on her face.

“What? What is it?” Ashton asks in alarm sitting up straight.

“Ashton, my last name is James. As in James Brandy.”

Ashton’s heart plummets to his stomach. While he was learning about whisky growing up he also learned that his grandfather started the business with his good friend, Walter James. After the prohibition was over, they joined all of their assets to get the company rolling.

Then there was a fallout due to unpaid expenses and a deal Walter made without consulting Ashton’s great grandfather Frank that could have upended the company before it really started. Ashton learned about distillery and grains and wheat and also to never, ever interact with a James’ family member. All they’ll do is double cross you and keep secrets.

And now he just had sex with his family’s enemy.

Ashton and Cressida meet each other’s eye before they both leap out of bed. He’s quickly pulling on some pants while she’s slipping her sweater over her head, both of them shouting nonsensical words in surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell me at the bar?!” she demands.

“I just told you I don’t go around saying my name because people treat me differently! You didn’t tell me yours either!”

“How was I supposed to know I was hitting on an Irwin!” she rages trying to find her pants. “No one can ever know about this; oh, my mother would kill me!”

“At least you’re going to Europe for three months,” Ashton seethes.

“You could go too, you know. Just because you’re taking over the business doesn’t mean you’re trapped,” she snaps.

“Then why are you going?”

She lets out an angry huff and throws her hands in the air. “My trip doesn’t matter right now! What matters is that we just had sex.”

“Yeah, I was there,” he rolls his eyes then stops his actions of frantically moving about. He’s not even sure why he was doing so, it’s not like the SWAT team was going to come bursting through his door. “Wait, wait, what are we doing?”

“I’m trying to find my pants so I can leave!”

Ashton rushes in front of her and grabs her shoulders, he shakes her slightly until she’s looking at him.

“No, I mean…why are we acting like the ceiling is going to collapse? Was it a mistake we did this? Probably, but I don’t regret it Cressida, not one bit. You’re…”

“I’m what?” her eyes are blazing and that’s when Ashton notices the small flecks of gold inside of them.

“You’re gold; precious and beautiful and the rarest girl I’ve ever met in my life. No one has to know about this except us,” he shakes his head.

“You’re saying ‘this’ as if ‘this’ is something…”

“It could be,” he shrugs, his eyes imploring her to meet him in the middle. “I thought this was going to be a one-time thing, but after being with you…and hearing you’re going to Europe. I want that, too.”

“You want to go to Europe with me? Ashton, we just met and found out our families are like the Montagues and the Capulets. Do you remember the ending to that story?”

“I’m not saying we share the same car to the airport where we can be seen together. I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

“Ash, this is crazy!”

“If it’s so crazy then why aren’t you still trying to find your clothes?”

She opens her mouth to retort something but closes it because she has nothing to say. Even though they just met, that spark they felt at the bar continued to his bed. It was as if they knew each other from a different life and were reconnecting all over again.

“Maybe I’ll make the mistake and book a trip to Europe and mistakenly run into you at an art museum,” he says tugging her sweater off her again. “And maybe I’ll mistakenly lose my hotel key and stay with you.”

He bends down pressing his lips to her neck where he sucked a mark only forty-five minutes ago. Cressida sighs into him, her hands holding onto his neck as he kisses the lobe of her ear.

“How does that sound?”

She can picture it. They’ll be in another country where their family won’t see unless photographers capture them, but they both aren’t the face of the name of their family business yet. They’re still young and free for a little while longer. She’s happy she stumbled into the bar where he as and that he found her when her heart was broke.

“Then be my mistake,” she sighs capturing his lips with hers and they fall back onto the bed a tangle of limbs and moans.

*

“What’s on your mind over there?” she asks while they have breakfast on the balcony. The sun is warm on their backs as they indulge in pancakes, waffles, and bacon.

“I’m thinking of Europe,” he squeezes her calf that is resting on his lap. When they woke up she didn’t bring up the night before of her crying and he didn’t either, but the axe is still hanging over their heads. It’s only a matter of time before it comes striking down.

“That was the longest we were together,” she smiles fondly at the memory of many late starts in the morning. ���I loved those three months. And now we only have three—”

“Cressida, don’t,” Ashton shakes his head and sets his espresso cup on the saucer. He drags her onto his lap, and she hooks her arms around his neck and shoulders. “We’ve agreed that when we’re here, the outside world doesn’t exist. We have until Monday to face the music.”

“The music won’t shut up in my head,” she knocks her forehead against his.

“I think I can help with that,” he mutters slipping his hand under the hem of her robe.

Cressida gasps as his finger nudges her center, she tries to kiss him, but her attention is otherwise occupied on his finger that is now twiddling inside her. Her back arches as she rocks on top of him, the shoulder of her robe falls down exposing her breast that Ashton quickly sucks into his mouth. Cressida moans in pleasure from both stimulations, she spreads her legs wider and Ashton bites onto her nipple.

“So pretty when you moan,” he mumbles on her skin and adds another finger. He works her over, scissoring and twiddling against her walls as his thumb presses against her clit harshly.

“Ash!” she chokes out yanking on his hair.

“That’s right, I’m the only thing that should be on your mind. Come for me, baby.”

He moves his arm faster and her toes curl as her head spins in pleasure. She’s panting his name like a prayer then finally slips her tongue in his mouth. This kiss reminds her of their last morning in Europe. They were having breakfast and the finality of their time together loomed over them like a dark cloud. Neither one of them wanted to go because they didn’t know when the next time they’d see each other would be.

She kisses him more fiercely, trying to push that sad memory away and the dark cloud that’s above them now. Sensing her urgency, Ashton removes his fingers from inside her and carries her into the room. She drops to the bed untying her robe watching with hunger in her eyes as he removes his loose sweatpants. He’s already hard and throbbing for her.

Ashton pushes her knees to her chest, kissing over the initials he branded on her skin last night, over her navel and finally to her mouth. He pushes himself inside her, they both groan at him going in dry but he knows it won’t be long until she’s lubricated herself for him.

“You’re perfect for me,” Ashton sighs rocking his hips into hers. The dry rub is becoming more fluid as he thrusts shallowly in and out of her.

“You’re my gold,” her nails scrape into his 5 o’clock shadow and nips at his lips.

“No baby,” he gives her a deep thrust that has her moan loudly. “That’s you.”

When she’s slick enough, Ashton flips her over onto her stomach, her face pressed to the robe and her hair draped over her back gloriously.

“Ready for me, angel?” he asks gripping her hips tightly and presses between her folds.

“Always.”

Ashton drives himself into her, skin slapping against skin drifts outside in the morning breeze. He fucks into her desperately, wanting this moment to last forever and when she starts to rock back against him, he swears he sees stars. They’re frantic, it’s chaotic, it’s their secret of this love affair in physical form.

“Right there, Ash, yes!” she mewls tossing her head back.

Ashton fists his hand into her hair, tilting her head up so he can suck on her neck as he continues to plow into her. She’s choking on moans and his name, begging for her release.

“Give it to me, Cressida,” he breathes, and she falls apart at the sound of her name.

She squeezes on his cock and Ashton can’t hold on much longer from that as she relishes in her orgasm. Before he can comprehend what’s happening, he’s spilling inside her and they collapse onto the bed, their bodies slick with sweat. He’s never come inside her before, a rule they agreed on together because that would only complicate things more. But this weekend, all bets are off.

Her hair sticks to his chest and he trembles, rocking his hips until he’s finished. Ashton brushes her hair from her back, and he kisses sweetly onto her spine while Cressida gathers her breath. She gathers his fingers with hers, bringing them to her lips and kisses them. He breathes her in, a mixture of her own scent and his combined. It’s intoxicating.

“I’ll go get a towel,” he inhales heavily through his nose, the air whistling in her hair.

“Not yet…stay a little longer,” she tightens her hold on his fingers.

He stays until he feels her heartbeat slow against his hand on her chest. With one final kiss he pulls himself gingerly out of her. They both wince at the loss of warmth.

“I’m sorry. I know we agreed not to do that,” he apologizes cleaning her.

She rolls over scooting to the edge of the bed and wraps her arms around his waist. Ashton kisses her hair.

“I’m not sorry. It’s harder to let go now,” she sniffs.

“I know.”

Taglist: @calpalirwin @myloverboyash @loveroflrh @cxddlyash @princesslrh @spicylftv​ @notinthesameguey​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @calumance​ @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @sarcastically-defensive17​ @another-lonely-heart​ @devilatmydoor​ @thatscooibaby​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @dead-and-golden​ @mymindwide​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @redrattlers​ @karajaynetoday​ @quasighost​ @i-like-5sos​ @creampiecashton​ @calpops​ @littledrummeraussie​ @sexgodashton​ @f-mu​ @mystic-232

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 8)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 4650 Warnings: fluff, light angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​​​​​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 7 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Walking out through the automatic doors of Metro-General you were hit with a gust of wind so strong you had to adjust the scarf you had wrapped around your neck to make the fabric feel cozier. In your pocket you feel your phone having a near seizure as it vibrates, alerting you of all the messages you received during the day coming in all at once thanks to the lack of service on the eighth floor.

That’s where you spend most of your time, in the social work department sitting in a small cubicle with yellow fluorescent lighting hanging above and a drafty window that whistles as the wind blows. So far most of your work has been shadowing Elena as she is called down for consultations. When asked, you’ve given appropriate suggestions on what services would best suit the patients but you aren’t yet familiar with enough of them.

It was slow today, which was surprising for a Saturday she mentioned, so most of your time was spent researching the organizations within your reach and learning about the different services they provide. Staring at a screen all day made your eyes nearly close a few times but you survived. On your way home you read through all the messages received. 

Ever since your celebratory get together everyone became friendlier with each other and started a group chat, declaring that on weekends you should all meet up and go to different bars.

Not everyone could always make it. Sam was usually working much to Wanda’s dismay, and another time Natasha was preparing for a large trial and needed every minute to work on her case. Bucky would show up about half the time, and you never asked why he couldn’t make it, assuming he had plans to hook up with someone whenever he wasn’t with you guys.

He still had women over on most nights. They weren’t as loud as before but you could hear them, panting his name like a sensual prayer as you scurried across your apartment to the bathroom. If he wasn’t finished by the time you were back in bed you put on your trusty headphones and hoped to fall back asleep.

When you finally exited the subway you replied back to the texts declining tonight’s invitation. You were honestly ready for a nap and even if you took one you doubt it would give you enough energy to stay up later.

A slew of sad faces sent by Steve made you feel a little guilty. He really wanted you to come out with him, especially since he started socializing again but you really needed this night off.

You: I promise I will do my absolute best to come out next weekend

Wanda: You better! Oh and we still have to talk costumes!

Halloween weekend was soon approaching and you knew you couldn’t miss that no matter how tired you were but tonight you were ready to crash.

Your heels were kicked off immediately, makeup barely wiped away as you changed into pumpkin pajama bottoms. Unhooking your bra felt heavenly and you tossed it aside, having it land somewhere in the vicinity of your living room. You slipped on a tank top and threw a comfy sweatshirt over that before plopping onto your bed and under the covers.

With your head on the pillow you stared at the phone cradled in your hand, holding it on the adjacent pillow. You weren’t actually trying to pay attention to the show you put on, just wanting something to fill the void of silence and within a few minutes you were asleep.

It was pitch black when your eyes opened. You searched for your phone on your bed, hands skimming across the mattress but you couldn’t find it. The smarter thing to do would be to turn on the lamp on your nightstand which you finally did. Your phone had fallen to the floor and upon picking it up you saw the time. It wasn’t that late, only nine-something. You could still go out and meet up with everyone but you chose not to. You were still kind of tired and now very hungry. Too lazy to make something you ordered pizza.

Hocus Pocus played in the background as you waited for your food; and finally looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror you fixed your half-assed attempt at makeup removal from before. Feeling more energized you straightened up your tossed clothes while absentmindedly singing along.

“I put a spell on you and now you’re gone, gone, gone so long. I put a spell on you and it was strong, so strong, so strong, so strong.”

You bounced around your apartment continuing to sing while tidying up. You were so excited for the prospect of pizza you practically ran to your door when there was a knock, opening it without looking through the peephole.

Instead of the pizza there was Bucky, arms crossed with a beaming smile. “Hey neighbor.”

You were surprised to see him, wondering why he would be knocking at your door and not out like you thought he would be. He also declined meeting up with everyone tonight so you assumed he had plans of his own.

“H-hey, what’re you doing here Bucky?”

His arms fell to his sides. “Oh nothing, just wanted to say thank you.”

Your face scrunched with confusion, trying to think of what reason he might need to thank you but just then Bucky answered the question you hadn’t asked.

“For the show. I put a spell on yooooou,” he mimicked, swirling his arms across his chest performatively.

“Oh no, you heard me!?”

You hid your face in your hands as Bucky chuckled, “Thin walls, remember?”

Peeking through your fingers you saw the genuine smile stretched across Bucky’s face. He may have been teasing but he wasn’t laughing at you. Thankfully he hadn’t heard anything worse, because if there was a real Disney marathon on he might have been the one putting on his headphones to block out the high notes you strained to reach in “Let It Go.”

“Yes, yes, I remember,” you smirk back at him. “So, you headed out?”

His head shook before he answered. “No, staying in tonight. I was up all night composing; it threw my whole day off.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that goi– ” The loud buzzing of your doorbell made you jump. That was the pizza. “Hang on a sec.”

You stepped back into your apartment to press the bell for the front door, telling Bucky he might as well step inside as you went to get your wallet.

“Are you hungry? I got pizza from Antonio’s. Have you tried them before?”

He thought about it and shook his head.

“Well sit down then and we can cross it off our list.” You smiled, turning around as you heard the muffled ding of the elevator from down the hall and waited at your front door for the delivery.

Bucky didn’t plan on spending his evening with you but he certainly didn’t mind the sudden change. He excused himself to go back to his apartment and turn off his lights. While there he cancelled plans with a girl named Rachel who would have been over sometime after midnight. She was cute but he really wasn’t feeling anything and truthfully between the lack of sleep he doesn’t have the energy to entertain her.

When Bucky came back you had the pizza set up on the table beside some plates and napkins. “Not sure what you wanted to drink,” you stated, opening your fridge and letting him choose what he wanted.

Together you settled down on your couch, with Bucky holding onto the beer as you raced up again to grab a coaster. He chuckled to himself as you bounced back beside him, taking a sip of the soda that you splashed with a little rum.

“See, it’s like I went out tonight,” you chuckled, raising your glass.

As Hocus Pocus ended you let him flip through the channels to find something to watch. There was an abundance of Halloween movies on and Bucky gasped when he found the perfect one.

“You’ve seen Psycho, right?” He smiled when you nodded. “Okay, but you haven’t seen it with me so you’re really in for a treat.”

Bucky sat up straighter, excited for the start of one of his favorite movies. It took less than ten seconds for him to start breaking things down to you, and not in a pretentious way you’ve been accustomed to by men before. Though you didn’t know Bucky for that long you could immediately see a change in him. His eyes lit up, filled with wonder as he began to describe the score.

“Right away we’re hit with unnerving music playing over the opening title sequence, with the text literally being dissected. It’s audiovisual foreshadowing in its most beautiful form. It really sets the tone for the film.”

All throughout the film Bucky would interject facts that you loved to hear, especially since every word was laced with passion.

“Have you noticed something?”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be noticing,” you said, smiling at him while grabbing another slice.

“The score. It’s all strings. It’s beautiful. You know piano might be my favorite to play but strings…” he sighed happily, “Those are my favorite to compose.”

As the movie continued you couldn’t help but glance over at Bucky, watching the way he would sometimes shut his eyes and listen to the score alone, his mouth tugging his lips into a content smile as he appreciated the music.

When the infamous shower scene came on Bucky tapped your arm, practically scrambling to talk about the score again.

“Herrmann designed the score in a way where the shrill notes of the strings represent the blade stabbing Marion even though you don’t see it. That’s the power of music.”

Bucky turned to the screen to watch the score play out over the scene and when it was over he suddenly remembered he was with you in your apartment and not back in college where his rants on music analysis were welcome.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, you probably just wanted to watch the movie and I’m ruining it because I can’t shut my damn mouth.” Fingers ran through his long hair as Bucky let out a stressful sigh.

“No, Bucky it’s okay really. I liked learning about that, it’s not something I ever really thought of before.” Your smile washed away his worries and Bucky thanked you for letting him ramble on.

When the movie ended you and Bucky continued to lounge on your couch, finding another one to watch. Feeling a chill run down your back you grabbed the fuzzy blanket and draped it across yourself, extending the material to Bucky in case he was also cold. With the comfort of the blanket and pizza filling your sated stomachs, neither you or Bucky realized you had ended your evening by falling asleep.

You awake with a groan, reaching your hand up to your neck as it stretches uncomfortably. Blinking your eyes a few times you noticed you weren’t in bed and your couch didn’t feel normal. Sitting up and stretching you finally cocked your head and realized why; you weren’t sleeping on a cushion.

Bucky was asleep on your couch in a half sitting up, half laying down, one-hundred percent uncomfortable position. It wasn’t unusual to have a man sleeping on your couch as Steve had crashed there in the past, and occasionally you had fallen asleep on him but Bucky was not Steve. Yet somehow it didn’t seem as awkward as it should have been. Maybe it was the way Bucky bared his musical heart last night but you felt like you understood him on a new level.

Quietly you got up from the couch, gently placing cups and dishes in the sink making sure they didn’t make a sound. You threw away whatever garbage was lying around, setting the pizza box aside and then finally made your way to the bathroom. You forgot to lock the door and hoped he wouldn’t wake up. Sleeping on Bucky was one thing but you’re not ready for him to burst through the door as you’re peeing.

“Shit. Did I fall asleep here?” Bucky rasped as he woke up not long after.

“Yeah it’s alright. How’s your neck?” you asked just as his face scrunched together while stretching.

“Not the best.” Bucky looked around, seeing your bed covers thrown in the same position he recalled from the night before. “D-did you sleep here too? I mean on the couch, I know this is your place,” he chuckled somewhat nervously.

“Yeah, sorry if your arm’s a little numb. I think I slept on it.” You grimaced as he shook the pins and needles feeling away.

“I feel terrible imposing like this. Let me make it up to you. Breakfast at my place? I make the best omelettes. Five stars, I promise.”

His head tilted down to reveal big, blue eyes that begged for forgiveness. You couldn’t say no if you tried.

“Sounds good Bucky.”

You agreed to come over in a half hour as Bucky wanted to take a shower to really wake himself up first. As the warm water sprayed against his aching muscles he frowned, wondering why he was upset at the momentary loss of your scent surrounding him. This was… weird and Bucky decided not to give it further thought, figuring it comes with the territory of having new friends.

Sunday’s were the only day you had for yourself; no work, no internship, just a full day you could spend however you wanted. Breakfast with Bucky was worth spending some of that time on. Not only were his omelettes as delicious as he said they would be but you really enjoyed his company, even after spending most of the night together.

“Steve you look amazing!”

You beamed as he walked into your apartment, twirling around slowly so you could get a good look at his Robin Hood costume. He set his bow down on your table, asking to help adjust the straps of his quiver containing his plastic arrows.

“So you think you’ll find your Maid Marian tonight?” you smirked, adjusting the hood attached to his green tunic.

Steve chuckled under his breath, ignoring you and quickly changing the topic. “You look heavenly,” he said teasingly.

You raised your palm, belting out an angelic sound as you looked up towards the large silver halo hanging above your head. For your Halloween costume you were going as an angel, wearing a long pleated white dress adorned with a sequined straps and feathery white wings that stuck out a few inches past your shoulders.

“My feet are going to kill me,” you stated, slipping into a pair of glittery platform pumps you haven’t worn since attending your friend Nakia’s wedding last year. “But it’ll be worth it.”

Wanda was dressing up as a devil, probably perfecting her scarlet lips as you speak. She was going to meet up directly at the bar along with Sam who would be coming straight from work. Clint and Natasha would be traveling with you and Steve, and Bucky… well he didn’t exactly RSVP for tonight’s hang out. He said he would try to be there and you hoped he would. It’s been a while since the whole group was together and you missed the fun of that dynamic.

A knock on your door had you clacking your heels against the wood floor as you stride across the room. Steve cocks his head at the immediate burst of laughter he heard.

“S-Steve...”

You’re barely able to get his name out as you walk further into your apartment, face tight with laughter and then he sees it... Clint’s costume. Steve’s head tips backwards immediately with laughter as his hand goes to his chest, unable to contain the sight in front of him.

Clint was dressed, or rather undressed as Princess Leia in her prisoner outfit. A green bra adorned with golden accents stretched across his pale chest and the skirt was cut high on his legs, revealing they had not seen the sun in years, or maybe ever. He wore cowboy boots to complete his look, twirling the gold chain that hung from the choker around his neck, grinning widely at Steve who could not catch his breath.

Natasha strode in behind him as the sexiest Han Solo you’ve ever seen in a simple white shirt and black vest, knee high boots over slim blue pants. They looked amazing together but Clint obviously won between the two.

Locking up you looked over towards Bucky’s door, debating for a moment to knock and see if he would come out. You hadn’t heard much noise through the wall so you let it go and headed towards the elevators with everyone.

“Wanda! What the fuck?!”

You stared at your best friend wearing a costume that was not what you had planned.

“Didn’t you get my text?” She tucked a freshly colored strand of hair behind her ears, a deep cherry red that make the white hat bearing the red nursing cross symbol of her costume stand out even more.

You shrugged off your bag to grab your phone and check, muttering under your breath how mad you would be at yourself if you missed her text.

“Wait, stop.” Wanda halted your actions as you held your phone. “I didn’t text you. I’m so sorry Y/N. I didn’t want you to be mad at me but I really wanted to go as a nurse.”

“Wan, I wouldn’t have been mad.”

“It’s just that Sam is coming from work and I thought it would be cute… to match him.” She tried to hide the blush that dusted her cheeks.

You teased her a bit more, asking if she and Sam are gonna actually do something other than flirt with each other.

“Well, maybe tonight we can change that.” She smiled, with a hopeful twinkle in her eye.

“I hope so. Sam would be a total ass if he didn’t make a move, just sayin’”

“Speaking of asses, Clint’s is hanging out!” She pointed towards him laughing, “I cannot believe he wore that!”

The night was fun as you danced and drank with the girls. Sam arrived later than you expected but Wanda lit up like a Christmas tree. He wore blue scrubs (a fresh pair thankfully as he began to describe a trauma that came in earlier) and he was equally surprised to see her costume.

“If you came in lookin’ like that we would have had to put a lot of people on life support!”

Wanda and Sam went to get a drink together leaving you and Natasha alone to dance. Clint was sitting in a booth and you scanned the room for Steve who you thought was with him.

“Oh my god!”

You turned Natasha around, to point at Steve in the corner talking to a beautiful Daenerys Targaryen. You had seen a few of them tonight already, some wearing the blue and gold dress from Qarth and another as Daenerys if she were a White Walker, but this one caught your eye.

She was shorter than Steve but stood tall holding her shoulders back. There was something regal about her and not just because she was dressed as the Mother of Dragons determined to finally set sail to Westeros. You couldn’t hear their conversation but you could tell that Steve was hooked on every word, captivated by the way she spoke, watching him look to the floor with embarrassment after she flashed her smile at him.

A woman with short blonde hair dressed as Cersei Lannister came up to them, handing Daenerys, who was obviously her friend, a drink. Steve politely introduced himself, though it was clear he only had eyes for his Khaleesi.

“What’re we looking at?”

The hot breath of a voice tickled your bare shoulders and you turned ever so slightly to find Bucky’s face right beside you.

“You made it!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around Bucky for a hug and he was careful of your wings as he returned the gesture.

“Hey neighbor, or uh neighbors,” he laughed at himself greeting Natasha. “Why are you staring at Steve?”

“‘Cause I think he’s actually flirting with someone for the first time in over a year!”

Bucky smiled as he saw how happy you were for Steve. You had a big heart and it was one of the reasons Bucky really liked you– your friendship, he corrected his inner thoughts.

Natasha walked back to sit beside Clint leaving you and Bucky together. You finally take a look at his costume; a black leather jacket and white t-shirt, cuffed jeans and high top Converse sneakers. His hair was slicked back and pulled into a bun, not the right length to really style as Danny Zuko but everything else made it obvious.

You followed him as he went to the bar to get a drink and got yourself another. He raised his voice over the loud music, “So how many people have asked if it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”

“Surprisingly not too many. But someone did grab my hand and said they were ‘touched by an angel.’”

Bucky scowled. “Who grabbed you?” He started looking around the bar, flaring his nostrils as he scanned the room, as if he would magically be able to tell.

You placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “It’s okay, Steve and Clint took care of it. I think Clint scared the guy more to be honest.”

A smile cracked on Bucky’s face again. “He’s pretty brave. You wouldn’t catch me in that.”

“No you look like more of a Luke to me, like literally you kind of look like a young Mark Hamill.” You smiled as Bucky laughed, protesting your claim. “No it’s true. If your hair was shorter I could totally see you pull off an awesome Luke Skywalker.”

“Cut my hair? Hmm, I don’t think so.” He shook his head quickly.

The two of you went to the table with Natasha and Clint and the four of you were soon joined by Steve, whose eyes might as well have been in the shape of hearts by the expression he couldn’t shake.

“What’s her name?” Clint cooed, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his hands under his chin.

A deep smile spread across Steve’s face as he slouched into the chair, his body becoming jelly at the sound of her name leaving his lips. “Peggy. Peggy Carter. Agent Carter actually.”

Peggy was a British Intelligence Agent who worked at the Consulate in New York. Steve looked over her contact information on his phone and even though she was a few feet away from him he couldn’t wait to see her again. He had taken enough of her time away from her friends, Carol, the Cersei who he just met, and the group they were supposed to have joined though Steve and Peggy’s extended conversation kept her occupied.

“Those might as well be Cupid’s arrows huh, Robin Hood!” you teased.

Natasha smirked, “Speaking of Cupid…” She directed everyone’s attention to Sam and Wanda having a full on makeout session in the middle of the dance floor.

Clint roared loudly at them which they may not have heard over the music, but either way it didn’t seem like anything would stop their lips from separating, even the need for air. At least Sam was a doctor, he’ll know what to do.

Everyone seemed to break up into groups. Sam and Wanda were still inseparable, Clint was with Natasha posing for pictures, Steve met up with Peggy again and you couldn’t be mad about that, which left you and Bucky alone.

It was nice to catch up with him again. Between developing programs for The September Foundation and interning at the hospital and Bucky working to meet a deadline you hadn’t seen much of each other in the last week.

“Must be fun though,” he commented, while discussing your new duties at Stark Industries.

“Maybe it would be if I wasn’t so intimidated,” you half-joked, laughing before you took a sip of your drink. “I’m surrounded by– ”

“Buuuccckkkkyyyyy!”

The familiar sound of a woman whining his name interrupted you. A creepy tingle ran down your spine as you remembered where you’ve heard that exact whine before– through the walls.

A redhead wearing hardly anything runs up to Bucky and clearly they have been well acquainted before. She ignores your presence completely as she wraps her arms around him for a hug, pulling him away from you. In doing so you missed the uncomfortable look on Bucky’s face.

“Dot. I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Same. If you told me we coulda matched Buck. I’d be the Sandy to your Danny.” She lifted her chest, pushing her breasts out even more than they already were.

“And what are you supposed to be?” Bucky wondered out loud, looking up and down at the lingerie she was wearing.

Dot scoffed. “I’m the witch from Hocus Pocus.”

Bucky sort of saw it; the purple lace up corset and sheer skirt, cut specifically to show more skin, with the lacy green robe. Her red curls were sort of shaped into Winifred Sanderson’s similar hairstyle but Dot specifically let a few tresses fall beside her face.

“I put a spell on you and now you’re mine!”

She sang every note off key and Bucky tried to stop his face from looking like he was going to throw up. It was nothing like the way you sounded that night you were singing carefree in your apartment. Bucky turned around to plead with you and help him get rid of this girl but you were nowhere to be found.

With Bucky’s attention clearly taken you decided to get another drink and there you ran into Bruce. You knew him from work as one of Tony Stark’s top scientists. You had run into during the R&D meetings you attended with Maria but tonight he looked great as Doc Brown from Back to the Future.

“Some of us science bros wanted to dress up accordingly,” he chuckled softly, pointing out his friends dressed as other famous fictional scientists, Dr. Frankenstein and a mashup of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde.

“That’s amazing!” you laughed, beaming a wide smile that caught Bucky’s attention from across the bar.

You looked really happy while talking to that guy and Bucky didn’t want to interrupt. Just like Steve, he knew you hadn’t given yourself much time in the past to meet someone so if this was your night to get lucky he didn’t want to take that away from you, even if he would much prefer to continue hanging out. Dot grinded against him and Bucky let her, leaving shortly after as she made some bad comment about “riding his broom.”

After speaking with Bruce you caught up with everyone who seemed ready to go home.

“Where’s Bucky?” you asked, looking around for him.

“I think he left with some girl,” Sam said, half paying attention, giggling as Wanda wiped some of her lipstick off of him.

“Oh,” you said, deflated.

Walking out of the bar you draped your jacket across your shoulders and protruding wings, wondering why you felt so hurt that Bucky hadn’t said goodbye. It was rude but you don’t know what you expected.

Before you even knew Bucky you knew this is what he was like, sleeping with half of New York so you shouldn’t be surprised. Yet when you got home, just before getting into bed you stared silently at the wall you shared, feeling a single tear slip down your cheek.

PART 9