#she dove in and everyone waited and held their breath to see if they’d ever see their friends again

[lunarrolls]

also i feel like fearne jumping in was really sweet because. she doesn’t want the fuckin shard. she clearly could not care less about it. she jumped in because she was the only one in the group who had something that could maybe help ashton, and when it completely did not, she tried something else, completely off the cuff, and it worked! they tried to hand her the shard after getting out, trying to see if she would take to it, and she decided she didn’t like it because it burned her hand. meanwhile ashton’s taken like 22 points of fire damage because he’s so determined to keep it near him. ashton wants that damn shard. fearne doesn’t. but she went in after him anyway. because she was the only one who could. and i am just so :’^) fearne calloway the woman that you are

[tragedybunny]

Fangs and Fairytales - Chapter 1

༺Summary༻

The Netherbrain has fallen and Baldur's Gate has been saved. Astarion and Serafina begin their life together in that very moment. Together they journey to find a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again. There's no shortage of adversity along the path, including Serafina's own warlock patron, Queen Titania. But together they can face it all and find their own sort of happily ever after.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Warnings༻ Angst

༺Word Count༻ 2711

༺A/N༻ Many many thanks to @icybluepenguinicybluepenguin for being my friend, my beta, and my cheerleader. And Sera's biggest fan! And thanks to everyone from my server for always being there for me. I finally dove in and started a proper post-game long fic, I hope you enjoy it!

Read on AO3 All chapter here on Tumblr

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” The anguish in Astarion’s voice stole Serafina’s breath away, and without hesitation, she turned to follow where he was running. 

She didn't get one step away before there was another distressed cry from Karlach behind her. Whirling around, she found her friend, wreathed in infernal flames, barely hanging on. “Engines finally cooked, held on just long enough.”

Her heart wanted to follow Astarion badly - he was so afraid that when the moment had come, she’d leave him. But Astarion was clever and tough, he’d survive the sun and they’d find each other. Karlach on the other hand, Karlach was dying. 

Karlach gave her a brilliant smile, and Sera kept a sob from her throat. She couldn’t let her do this, just give up and die.

But her words ran dry as her thoughts were pulled again and again to Astarion. It's Wyll whose voice breaks through to Karlach, and Sera knew she’d be forever grateful to him.

His eyes were bright with affection as he held out a hand to Karlach. “Live on with the Blade of Avernus at your side.”

It's not what Karlach had wanted, but as long as she lives, there's hope. And at the very least she and Wyll would be together, their peculiar love story's ending not quite written. 

With their bittersweet departure, Sera's thoughts turned to her own love, another story she hoped wasn’t over.

Her legs wanted to give out, exhaustion weighing on her as adrenaline faded from her body. Still, she willed herself to stand, to take one more deep breath. Astarion. 

He needed her, maybe more than ever.  Any fleeting hope the tadpole's effects would be permanent had just been violently ripped away from him. Her eyes swept over her remaining companions, Lae’zel had gone to liberate her people from Vlaakith, now with Wyll and Karlach gone, there were so few of them left. “I-I have to go find him,” her voice caught, making her feel small. “I'll see you at the Elfsong.” 

“Go, we'll see what we can help the city with.” Shadowheart put a gentle hand on her shoulder and whispered a soft word. 

The pain in her body ceased and nerves and muscles thrummed with reinvigoration. The last of Shadowheart���s magic, most likely. “Thank you.” Sera pulled her into a quick hug, mindful of threatening tears, before starting on the path across the docks Astarion had taken. 

Eyes searching desperately in every shadow, she prayed to any god that would listen that he had just stopped to take shelter, just waited for her, trusted she would come. Every empty spot of shelter dashed those hopes.

The merciless sun continued to rise, evaporating any lingering pockets of dark. “Astarion!” she finally shouted desperately, hearing only silence in return. 

He was gone. 

Just as she turned to head back to the others, to return to the Elfsong and hope he followed, something caught the toe of her boot with metallic scraping. An open sewer cover. 

The stench of a city's worth of waste wafted over her, making her stomach heave and dredging up memories of the journey to Bhaal's temple. And in her chest, her heart ached. A sewer would be one of the last places he'd want to go. 

For a second she hesitated, maybe she should go back and at least bring one of the others. They were exhausted, though, and that would eat up precious time, time that was taking Astarion farther away from her. Resolving to face whatever waited below, she started down the rickety ladder to the waiting muck. 

Her feet hit the ground with a splash, and fetid liquid spattered up her legs. There was one path ahead leading toward the city from the dock, a murky tide flowing from it toward the sea. 

“Fiat Lux.” Four bright orbs surrounded her, lighting the gloom as she started to follow the tunnel at a brisk pace. 

“Astarion!” she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls, but not drawing out any answer. 

Hells, how had he gotten so far ahead of her? 

Desperately, she wanted to move faster, to go from jog to flat out run, but she knew she’d wear out far too quickly. As it was, her lungs already protested the exertion after everything else today. She settled for calling his name another time and blinking away the tears at the silence after. 

The tunnel came to an intersection, and the rest of the city’s sewer system sprawled out beyond it. Footprints in the muck ahead of hers looked fresh enough and seemed Astarion’s size. Tracking wasn’t her expertise but it seemed the best shot she had. They headed toward a tunnel running off to the east. Maybe he was headed back toward the Elfsong after all, just through the safety of the sewers.

The hope would have to be enough, she told herself, as she followed the tracks. The orbs of light gently revolved around her, still lighting her way. “Astarion please, stop if you can hear me!” 

Of course he didn’t answer. 

At first, it felt like fate or something was on her side, as the wet muck alternating with stone made just enough tracks for some vague trail to follow. And they kept heading east, exactly where she wanted him heading. 

Her legs ached and the foul air burned her nose, but still, hope led her on. She’d prefer to catch up to him, but if he made it back to the inn safe, she’d settle for that. Another junction lay ahead, two sets of pipes, one on top of the other, poured water into the room from the north. A questionable rope netting served as the access to a platform that would lead to the top of the pipe to the north, and another small walkway led further east. 

Sera was about to follow it when she stopped short noting the wet footprint headed towards the north. That was… not what she had expected. If she was following Astarion, she had no idea where he was headed, and if she wasn’t following him, she’d probably just wasted a massive amount of time. 

The exhaustion began to creep in as she stood still, taking in the setback. Which chance to take? Hope or tenuous evidence? Why didn’t he just wait for her! Her gloved hand came up to flick away the wetness rolling down her cheek. All she had wanted was to go back to the inn, if it still stood, and hold onto him, to let the horror of the day fade away into an indistinct background noise for just a few hours. But here she was trying to chase him down through a fucking sewer. 

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. And she was wasting time again, with no more idea which way to go than before. Her eyes flicked back and forth between the two possibilities, despair beginning to wrap itself around her like the grasping vines Arabella had learned to conjure, until it was beaten back by a sudden, new hope. 

She may not be able to tell where Astarion had gone, but there was someone who could. Her hand came to rest over her chest, where just beneath her armor lay the token that Titania had given her when their pact was made; a diamond-shaped white pendant with the inlay of a blue star. 

“Titania, your Highness…” She tried for deference and eloquence to persuade the Fey Queen - who held no love for a vampire spawn she saw as an obstacle - but her thoughts were as ragged as her emotions. “Please,” was all she could manage. 

“My child, you really will chase that spawn to the ends of Faerûn, won’t you?” 

“I…”“I know, you love him.” Titania didn’t sound angry as much as, resigned. “Given the events of the day, I shall be merciful. Astarion did fulfill his word to be at your side through the battle. So I will give you a clue to where your beloved has gone.” 

Fey always had to make things into a riddle or game, but Sera held back her frustration. If she offended Titania she was likely to get nothing. 

“Where do any vermin go when threatened?” There was a pause as Sera's mind tried to decipher her words. “Back to the nest.” 

Sera steadied herself as Titania’s words made her world unsteady. “Oh gods, why would he do that.”

There was no response, the presence of the Fey Queen had gone.. She had her answer though; he was headed north, straight back into hell. 

Standing straight and drawing in a breath, she headed for the rope net. She had to get to him, she couldn’t leave him alone in that place. And staying in the sewer was probably still easier than going through the wreck of the city. 

By the time she reached the sewer entrance where once they’d found a girl who’d been lured there for a “party”, the effects of Shadowheart’s magic were gone, and her chest heaved as though lead weighed it down. They had left the way open, a failsafe should the other spawn need to leave quickly. It wasn’t necessary, as it turned out that part of the massive structure beneath Szarr manor was an entrance to the Underdark. Astarion had received a note one night from Dalyria that spoke of what they found and that they would be leaving as quickly as possible, before any of them could get out into the city and lose control. The letter had asked Astarion to come visit before they left, but he’d obstinately refused. 

“I have no desire to see the inside of that place again. And it is not like we’re real family.”

Sera had bit her tongue, it wasn’t as though they didn’t have enough to worry about, and she was sure that a colony of vampires would not be that hard to find if they wished to later. 

Beyond the sewer entrance, the air of the defiled space where Cazador once planned his greatest triumph was cool with the faintest hint of mustiness. No one had bothered to scrub the floor of the bastard’s blood, leaving it to turn a rotten brownish hue. The body had been burned, Leon hadn’t wanted to take chances. Another tidbit from Dalyria’s note.

Sera found her way up the stairs, past the cells, and to the elevator easily enough. The place was burned into her memory, truthfully, the place where the one she loved had suffered so; the place where she had almost lost him. 

The elevator rose to the surface with a metallic whine and Sera ascended into Cazador’s office, unsurprised that she hadn’t managed to catch him. The wet prints on the tacky carpet meant she was close. 

“Just a little further,” she whispered aloud, pushing onwards. 

From Cazador’s office, she moved on to the ballroom; again someone had moved the bodies but hadn't cleaned the ichor of the fight that had taken place.

A pack of werewolves had been an unexpected addition to their foes. But Astarion’s reaction had been almost more unexpected; the indignation at their presence, referring to it as his home. She would have thought he wouldn't want any association with the place. But then again, it was all he had known for two hundred years. 

And now he'd been forced to come running back. 

She turned from the ballroom and the memory of that fraught day. The rest of the house was just as she remembered as she jogged through halls, bracing herself as she approached the kennels. Just the thought of them… What they had done to Cazador hadn't been nearly satisfying enough. 

“Come out of there!” From up ahead, through a door that had been left hanging open, a sign of the manor’s abandonment, a familiar voice startled her into a momentary standstill. But recognition soon spurred her on again.

Quickening her steps, she found Dalyria pounding on the door to the spawn dormitories. Her heart sank, she already knew who she was shouting for. 

Taking slow, deliberate steps towards her, she crept most of the way down the hall before calling out softly, “Dalyria.” It wasn't wise to startle a vampire, even an ostensibly friendly one.  

Crimson eyes, both alike and unlike the ones she knew so well turned toward her, narrowed in suspicion, as Dalyria crouched into a defensive stance. 

The two women stared at each other for a moment, Sera suddenly less confident that Dalyria wasn’t about to pounce on her. But then her expression softened with recognition and her body relaxed. Briefly, Sera wondered why she was still here when all the other spawn had moved on. A question for later, there wasn’t time now. 

“You! By the gods, I was worried something had happened to you. Please, come reason with him.” 

As Sera approached, hope and dread both warring inside her, Dalyria turned her attention back to the door, raising her voice. “Brother, please-”

“I AM NOT YOUR BROTHER DAL AND Y-.” 

The ferocity of his words stunned her, like a wild, dangerous thing, cornered and lashing out.

“Astarion!” Sera shouted loud enough to shock him out of whatever tirade he was planning.  

Silence hung heavy in the air for what seemed like forever. And for the first time, she doubted. What if he didn’t want to be found? What if he was intent on running from her? 

“Please,” she reached out, resting her hand on the closed door, hoping that he wasn’t lost in himself, “open the door.” 

She held her breath until the metallic click of the lock filled the quiet. Dalyria silently nodded, her expression grateful, before withdrawing to give them space. Perhaps she was afraid her continued presence would only agitate Astarion further. 

Heart heavy, Sera pushed the door open, to find Astarion sitting on the edge of a bed in the last place he’d ever wanted to go again. His armor was still spattered with gore from the final fight, and he was slumped over, head in his hands, burned flesh still visible enough to make her want to weep for him, even as she knew his vampiric regeneration would heal it soon enough. 

“I didn't know where else to go,” he answered her unspoken question. 

“Love.” She started towards him, but he put up a hand. 

“Don’t,” he warded her away, voice cracking with threatening tears. “Don’t pretend everything is fine. Don’t lie to me, now that you’ve seen everything.”

Astarion was right, things would most assuredly not be the same now. But that was often the case in life. “I won’t then.” She took a hesitant step closer to him. “Things are going to change.” 

At those words he looked up at her, putting the full extent of the sun’s work on display, and sniffled miserably. “I knew it.”

She gestured to the bed beside him. “May I?” 

He answered with a shrug, having turned his eyes back to the floor.

Delicately, Sera lowered herself into the bunk next to him, the elven chainmail she'd acquired as comfortable as it always seemed to be. She yearned to reach out and take him in her arms, to comfort him. It wasn’t quite the time yet. 

“As I was saying, you're right, things can't stay the same.” Beside her, she felt him tense. “Living at night is going to be an adjustment, I'm sure. It may take me a while. And we'll have to find ways to make sure you're always safe.”

“You don't-”

“I told you on the roof that day, I'm not going anywhere.”

Now. She reached out, and, careful to avoid his burns, pulled him into her arms. 

“It won't always be easy, I know that. But I'm not giving up.”

There was a time when he would have argued with her, told her she was wrong and this wouldn't work. Instead, he leaned his weight against her and drew a breath he didn't need. “Promise?”

“Always. Now do you feel up to getting out of this awful place or should we wait?” 

“I-I think I need a little time.”

She gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Take all the time you need. I'll be right here.” 

Tag list: @writingmysanity @snowfolly @sunfire-ancunin @vixstarria

@just-a-refrigerator @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @tallymonster @azu21

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate @spacebarbarianweird @cilil @bg3obsessedsideblog

@talented-bitch @claryvoyantfray

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Aliit Be Cuur

Pairings: Mando x Reader

Summary: While waiting in the hospital in Mos Pelgo after you were inured in the attack on the Krayt Dragon, Mando accidentally learns some life changing information for the both of you. You’re pregnant. 

Warnings: Description of injuries, Pregnancy, Talk about miscarriage, Mando sees a sonogram-like image of reader’s uterus while she’s unconscious, general discussion of pregnancy while reader is unconscious and unaware, made up Star Wars level medical equipment

Word Count: 2800

Read Part 2 Here!

________________________________________

Watching you lay unconscious, body littered in cuts and burns, had to be the most terrifying thing Mando had ever experienced, and that was coming from a man that had seen some horrific things in his life. It was his fault you were hurt. If only his plan to kill the Krayt Dragon had gone as it was supposed to, you wouldn’t be in this position. This was supposed to be what he was good at. Killing. Sure, he killed the dragon, but at what cost? 

When the initial plan of luring out the dragon and detonating the explosive just at his weak spot under his belly had gone south, he knew he had to think of something else. He could not leave the Mandalorian armor with Cobb Vanth. He needed it back. 

The plan to use the bantha as bait had come to him quickly but he should have known better than to not tell you what he was doing. There was just no time. Everything had happened so fast. After months of travelling together, he’d hoped that maybe by some miracle, you could read his mind and know that everything was going to be okay when he allowed the dragon to swallow him with the bantha. 

You were with the villagers and Tusken Raiders, struggling to fix the devices you’d built to throw the harpoons so you’d have a fighting chance. Being so caught up in your own tasks, sweat beading on your forehead from the heat and pressure, you hadn’t known Mando had strapped explosives to the bantha and was using it as bait. A loud screeching roar from the dragon ripped your attention away from the trying to kick a piece of wood back into place just in time to see the dragon’s mouth open, massive teeth bared, as it plunged down, straight on top of Mando and the bantha. 

You screamed in horror, running towards the beast, “MANDO!” About halfway there from your post, you whipped out your blaster and shot at the beast as it dove back into the sand. The lasers were useless and you knew that but it was the only thing you could think of to do. Your legs fumbled to a halt, the realization that Mando was really gone actually hitting you. 

But then something else hit you. 

There was a loud explosion and a wave of fire, rocks, sand, and dragon flesh hit you, throwing your body back. The last thing you saw was the wave of orange and red coming at you before everything went black. 

Just as planned, Mando had managed to escape the beast’s clutches before the explosion but suddenly regretted every decision he’d ever made when he saw the little figure of your body running towards where you assumed Mando to be. Even from dozens of feet in the air, he knew it was you. He couldn’t imagine anyone else there willing to run straight at the monster to try and save him. The bombs were sure to detonate any second but by the time he’d noticed you, it was too late. The bomb detonated with a massive wave of heat and debris. 

He watched in horror as your body flew back at least twenty feet before sliding another fifteen across the sand after the impact. Time seemed to stop around him as he jetted to you in less than a few seconds. He couldn’t breathe, fear that he had caused your death choking his airways. “Y/N!” He yelled, landing harshly on his feet right beside you before falling to his knees. You were lying face down, eyes closed. “Y/N, talk to me.” Mando looked over your body and, by some miracle, there didn’t appear to be any broken bones, at least not any that looked immediately disfiguring. With a nearly effortless nudge, he rolled your body over. Your clothes had been ripped and/ or singed in many places. Multiple large holes in your pants revealed reddening burns and blood dripping from sand scraped skin. Your shirt was torn in multiple places, the left strap of your shirt torn so severely it could barely count as a sleeve. The side of your face that was on the sand was also scraped up, thankfully not too deep, but enough to cause bleeding. 

Now the two of you were in the little hospital in Mos Pelga, along with the rest of those who'd been injured in the attack. You slept now, bandages covering large portions of you body that was now largely exposed. They had had to strip you down to your underwear to reach all the wounds but had wrapped your chest in wrappings in place of a bra for the sake of your privacy. Mando had pulled his cape over the majority of your body, knowing you'd be upset if you were to wake up practically naked in front of everyone. 

He hadn't left your side since the explosion. He carried you to the infirmary. He laid you down on the cot. He watched as both human nurses and medic droids worked to patch you up and take blood for tests. They had told Mando that they wouldn’t know anything for sure until the tests came back. Even with the bacta that they’d lathered on you, it would take time for it to work and there was a possibility for further damage that they couldn’t see on the outside. 

The child had been sleeping in his little cot, sealed up safely inside the levitating metal object. Mando had just been sitting beside you on a crate, leaning forward on his knees. This was his fault. He should have known you’d run in. He should have known that something like this could happen. 

“Mandalorian.” A robotic voice gently called for Mando’s attention. 

He looked up at the awkwardly proportioned grey medic droid who stood on the opposite side of the bed. “Is she going to be okay?” 

The droid spoke again, its body shifting unnecessarily to emphasize some of its words, “Patient 728, also known as Y/N. Female. Age: (Y/A). 2nd degree burns on the abdomen, arms, and legs. Superficial graze abrasions on the face, neck, arms, hands, abdomen, and legs. Bruising on face, back, hips, and legs. Probability of death: 7%. No damage to the fetus. Probability of miscarriage: 19%.” 

Mando found a hard time finding any solace in the words of a droid. When a young male nurse walked up beside the droid, Mando immediately turned his attention to him.

“It’s a miracle the baby survived unharmed. I’ve seen much less cause a miscarriage.” The nurse mused, flipping through the clipboard in his hands. 

Mando stood up, brows furrowed beneath the helmet, “That must be someone else’s chart.” 

The nurse flipped back to the front page, “Patient 728? Y/N L/N?” The young man confirmed.

“Yes.” 

He shook his head, “Nope, this is hers.” 

Mando gestured to you, “There must have been a mistake. She’s not pregnant.” 

The young nurse looked at the beskar helmet that he was actually slightly taller than and swallowed hard, “I’m sorry. I assumed that you were the father. If not, this is confidential information that I can’t share with you.” It was obvious that the man was afraid to stand up to a Mandalorian, surely hundreds of stories of their superior killing ability running through his head. Nonetheless, he held fast to what was right. 

Mando’s head was reeling and all he wanted was to run and take off the helmet and take actual, non-filtered breaths. Instead, he was wide eyed and silent as thoughts ran through his head a million lightyears an hour. The beskar betrayed none of his emotions. To the rest of the world, he appeared frozen, standing strong and staring right at the nurse when in reality Mando had zoned out somewhere off to the side. 

If you were pregnant, the baby had to be his. For the last few months, the two of you had had an unofficial relationship of sorts. Nothing was ever said, no official labels, but the two of you behaved like any other couple, or at least a much less touchy-feely version of one. After a night of confessions brought on by an unrelated argument, it had become an unspoken truth that you were only taken by each other. You were his riduur, no doubt, and, as far as he knew, he was yours. You would never lay with another man as long as you and Mando were together, that much he was sure of.

“If she’s pregnant, I am the father.” His voice was calm as always but he thanked the modulator for the slight distortion. If it hadn’t been there, he would have sounded shaky. 

The nurse sighed, choosing to believe him because he really didn’t see much use in lying over something like this. He flipped to the next page on his chart and walked over to stand beside Mando, pointing at some numbers that meant nothing to him. “hCG is a hormone that’s created in the placenta and is only present in pregnant women. According to her levels, I’d say she’s about eight weeks.” He paused for a moment, allowing time for the new information to sink in. “You really didn’t know?” 

“If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have let her fight the Krayt Dragon.” Mando snapped, almost angry at the mere suggestion that he would put his own child in that sort of danger. 

The nurse put his hand up in defense before continuing, “Do you think she knows?” 

Mando shook his head. He believed that you still would have jumped into battle even if you had known, at least from a distance. It was just who you were. But he really didn’t think you had any idea that you were pregnant. Mando had been trained to read people his entire life and surely such news would have brought about some change in your demeanor. Mando hadn’t noticed any change in your behavior. Besides, he would like to believe that you would have told him if you knew.

He couldn’t believe this. How were you pregnant? Okay, well he knew how you could have possibly gotten pregnant but the two of you had always tried to be as safe as you could to avoid this exact scenario. Neither of you were in a position for children, the Child being a special circumstance. Your life was full of danger and violence. How could Mando protect you for an entire nine months while pregnant and then for the rest of forever, while also protecting the Child against what felt like an entire galaxy that wanted him at any cost? 

“Do you want to see?” The nurse’s voice brought Mando back to the present and his helmet tilted in curiosity. 

“See what?” 

“The baby. I need to do a scan to ensure that it's still doing alright. You can see the fetus on the screen while you scan.” He set the clipboard at the foot of your bed and procured a moderately sized glass panel with a metal border that he’d had pinned between his arm and side while he spoke to Mando. 

With a few taps on the glass, bright blue words and images appeared. He tapped on one selection and the middle of the screen cleared, aside from a thin column on the right hand side that had stats and vitals. “See, if you put anything under this, it will show you an interior view of the body. This mode shows organs and blood vessels and stuff like that. See?” The nurse put his hand under the glass panel. The screen showed a light blue version of his hand but instead of skin and nails, it clearly showed the lines of his muscles and the veins that overlapped them clearly. 

Politely as he could, he pulled the cape that had been draped over you down just enough to expose your lower belly, stopping just above the hemline of your underwear. The only thing indicating that you were even alive at this point was the deep inhale you took, drawing both Mando’s and the nurse’s attention. It was the only time Mando hoped that you weren’t waking up. He had no idea how to explain this new situation to you. Hell, he was still having a hard time understanding it for himself. Thankfully, a deep breath was all it was though. You were still asleep. 

The nurse moved the glass panel over your lower stomach, just about where your belly button was, and the image began to form on the screen as he adjusted a few things. Mando’s helmet tilted forward as he leaned over to see the image. 

A nearly perfect view of your reproductive system appeared as a blue digital image. Mando felt uncomfortable looking at the image, feeling like he was violating you in some way. He knew he shouldn’t be looking at this without your permission but then the nurse zoomed in on your uterus to the point where the only thing that could really be seen was a little being. 

Mando’s first thought was that it looked like a little alien. There was an identifiable head that appeared to be looking down and the cord that was attached to you through its belly. The rest of the body was curled into a fetal position. 

The nurse tapped something on the screen and there was a rapid thudding sound that emanated from the device. 

“Is that the heartbeat?” Mando asked, knowing that the answer was probably obvious. For someone who was used to working under pressure, he felt like his brain was only receiving radio static. 

“Mhm, nice and strong.” The nurse said with a warm smile. He tapped a few notes onto the board and then turned it off, the blue image disappearing and the amplified heartbeat ceasing. 

Mando couldn't believe this was happening. How could you not know you were pregnant? He was no expert on the female body, aside from the basics, but weren't you supposed to be throwing up or missing periods or something? He couldn't wrap his head around how you were eight weeks along with seemingly no clue of your condition. 

"Look, I can see that clearly this was something unexpected. I don't know if this is something you want to tell her or want me to, but either way, there are some conversations you two need to have." The nurse told Mando matter-of-factly while gathering the few things he’d brought over before leaving. 

Mando shifted on his feet and reached down to pull his cape back up over your torso so you wouldn’t be cold and exposed, though it was mostly for the second reason. It was next to impossible to be cold on Tatooine, at least during the day. That was when he noticed the small, barely there bump on your lower stomach. It was such a slight variation from its normal size that he never would have noticed it had he not just learned about the life now growing inside you. It was so slight that he imagined you probably would have just attributed it to bloating perhaps, since you were unaware as well, considering all the less-than-pleasant food you both came across in your work. 

Part of him wanted to place his hands over the ever-so-slight swell of your belly, just to see if by some chance he could feel anything. Mando decided against it, shaking his helmet at himself with a heavy sigh. He would wait until you woke up and the two of you had a chance to discuss everything before he did anything relating to the baby. 

Gently, he pulled the cape back up over your body and sat down on the crate again, leaning his elbows on his knees where he sat with his thoughts for several minutes in a zoned out daze. His attention was only broken by the cooing from the Child’s metal pram. Mando tapped on the controls on his arm, opening the pram, and removing the little green baby who was now wide awake. 

“Hey, buddy.” Mando breathed out, watching as the baby stretched his arms out to you, “I know, I know. She’ll wake up soon.” 

The Child looked up at Mando sadly before snuggling down onto his lap, sitting there comfortably. The weight of such a small being had become comfortable and normal for Mando now after all this time with him. He was, by Creed, his son now. Mando was already a father. You had stepped up as a mother for the young child. So why did this feel different? 

Mando imagined the new future, assuming you had decided to stay with him and care for the baby together. He had every intention of raising the baby with you and would do whatever it took to keep the two of you safe. He loved you more than he knew was possible to love another person and the last thing he wanted was to leave. Mando hoped that, one day, you would be officially bound by riduurok. Once the Alor approved it, Mando’s clan of two would become an aliit be cuur. Clan of four. 

[svnflowervol666]

Ma Petite Chérie: Babymoon (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Summary: Harry and Y/N go on their babymoon.

Warnings: pregnancy, smut, fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hello! I wrote this in order to cross off a few requests. I promised Harry and Y/N would have a baby of their own, plus I get asks all of the time to write pregnancy sex - specifically awkward, giggly pregnancy sex. I also got one about Harry getting a love boner, so here is my attempt at shoving all of that down your throat at once. Try not to choke :-)  I also just reallllllly love Harry, Y/N, and Tallulah, so I wanted to give them some more love. Also made this one pornstache!Harry, so, there’s that. And one last thing...I know the verb tense is way off in this but I could not be arsed to edit it so plz don’t drag me. I hope everyone enjoys! Take care and TPWK.

“Oh my god,” Y/N huffed as she collapsed on the plush sofa in the living room of the cottage.

“It feels so fucking good out here by the water.”

“Breeze is nice, innit?” Harry replied as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets to check out how well the place he’d rented for the week was stocked.

“Beats going t’ France at the end of June. Think I’m kinda gettin’ tired of Paris t’ be honest.”

“That is quite possibly the snobbiest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Mr. Styles,” she said with a laugh as she began to flip through the tourist brochures that were left on the coffee table.

Not that they’d be partaking in any of it, no. Their plan was to hole up in the quaint, Scottish cottage that sat right on the coast of the North Sea for the whole week, not even planning on changing out of their pajamas.

It was their babymoon after all - a time of peace and tranquility before the arrival of their first child together.

Harry hummed and he made his way from the kitchen to where Y/N was seated on the couch. He stood behind her, knees knocking against the back of the sofa as he crouched down and wrapped his arms around her very large, very swollen belly.

“If I recall correctly, Mrs. Styles, I sat my injured arse in a stiff train seat to Edinburgh for five hours because someone was too scared to fly even though they were cleared to do so by three separate doctors.”

“’M not Mrs. Styles for another year and a half,” Y/N muttered under her breath, albeit not trying to keep Harry from hearing it in the slightest.

Harry snickered into her neck, then playfully nipped her earlobe with his teeth as he whispered.

“Not my fault yeh got knocked up and we had t’ push the wedding.”

“It is very much your fault, Harry,” Y/N swatted at his face, fingers first brushing his jawline that was covered in a rough stubble and then just barely tracing the full-blown mustache that sat like a caterpillar above his bright pink top lip.

Harry smirked down at her, nostrils flaring wide and lips disappearing inside of his mouth.

“How’s your rib?” Y/N asked suddenly.

“Good. Why?” Harry’s brows quickly furrowed together in confusion as to why she was asking about his injury.

“Might have to ride that later if you’ve got the lungs for it,” she tapped her index and middle fingers along her philtrum, right where Harry’s mustache sat on his own face.

Her blunt lewdness had Harry’s cock immediately growing stiff in his pants. It had been a while. His injury coupled with her being in the last trimester of her pregnancy had left them both feeling unsatisfied for the past several weeks. Maybe this babymoon would prove to be relaxing not only because Harry and Y/N get to spend a week without a rambunctious almost six-year-old screaming at all hours of the day, but for other reasons too.

“Think I’d actually drop dead from happiness if yeh sat on m’ face right now, lovie. But, before yeh get too comfortable with that idea, we need t’ head into town. Kitchen’s only got the necessities, and I doubt yeh want t’ eat homemade bread for a week.”

“I’m sure you’d love to eat homemade bread for a week,” Y/N jested, poking fun at Harry’s latest obsession with the carb-filled food.

“Remind me again why I put up with you?” Harry toyed as he extended his arms out towards Y/N to use as leverage to help her hoist herself up from the couch.

When she regains her balance, she lifts herself up just slightly to press a quick kiss to Harry’s lips that he happily accepts. Y/N hums and jokingly checks the imaginary watch that sits on her wrist.

“How much time do you have? That list is pretty long.”

//

The trip to one of the only supermarkets in the small part of Edinburgh that they were staying in had proved to be rather tiring, because Harry opted to use store-bought pasta instead of making his own - something he never does. Maybe it was his healing rib causing him to be short-winded, but he simply could not bring himself to hand-make the pasta they chose to have for dinner that night. He bitched about it all night, about how it wasn’t as chewy as it should be and how it would have tasted much better if he would have just made it himself, but it still didn’t deter him from helping himself to a second serving.

He claimed it was because while he did use pre-cooked pasta, he didn’t use sauce from a jar and made his own from fresh tomatoes and that was the appeal. Y/N just thinks Harry likes to complain and listen to himself talk.

After dinner, just as the sun was setting and Harry and Y/N were waiting for their pasta to digest before they dove into the box of fresh pastries from a bakery they found along the way, they decided to take a walk around the property. The renovated, stone cottage that was overgrown with vines and leaves sat along a short cliffside that overlooked the North Sea. It was a short walk down the cliff that brought them to the beach, where mist from the ocean whisped around their legs and ankles like a thin veil of smoke. While it was the middle of summer, Scotland’s persistent rain showers and their proximity to the water never made it too hot to bear.

“Lulah would love it out here. We’ll have to bring her when the baby’s older.”

“She realIy would,” Harry agreed as he wrapped his sweater further around his chest.

“Know yeh didn’t give birth t’ her, but I swear you two are just alike sometimes. Absolutely hates bein’ hot and gettin’ sweaty just like you.”

Y/N smiled softly and knowingly at Harry before reaching into the pocket of the patchwork sweater of Harry’s that she’d stolen for their stroll on the beach for her phone.

“I’m gonna call her.”

She picked up on the third ring, Y/N’s phone screen then illuminated with a live image of a gap-toothed Tallulah. Well, it’s Mitch’s phone, but she’d been waiting for this promised FaceTime call all day so of course she’s quick to answer.

“Mummy!”

Both Y/N’s and Harry’s heart swelled in their chest when they heard Tallulah speak. It had been several months since she’d decided to start referring to Y/N as her mother, but neither of them had grown used to it just yet. Y/N felt a sense of achievement in “earning” the title of being Tallulah’s mum after all of the years she’d spent with her, and Harry felt a sense of resolution. His family was a real family now, and not just a patchwork of awkward relationships and trust issues. Y/N was Tallulah’s mum and she was now seven months pregnant with their own child and they’d be married by the end of next year. He was actually there to see his child grow this time, they weren’t a secret kept from him out of spite. He’d be there for all of it, even the gross and bloody and goopy bits. And he’d never felt more complete.

“Hi, baby,” Y/N beamed from ear to ear.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re walking on the beach,” Y/N answered.

“Want to see it?”

The five-year-old (five and three-quarters if you asked Tallulah herself) nodded quickly, and Y/N then flipped the camera around to show her the view of the water. Y/N pointed out their cottage from where they stood in the sand, turning the camera to Harry briefly as he held up a peace sign so Tallulah could see that her dad was also on the beach with her. She told her all about the train ride there and how Harry almost slipped and broke his face when was carrying his and Y/N’s luggage into the cottage.

Harry listened to his two little loves talk back and forth with the biggest smile on his face as he absent-mindedly scoured the beach for rocks he could skip along the water. He noticed whenever Tallulah said something that Y/N thought was funny, she had to cup her bump with her hand and forearm to keep it from shaking her entire body. She told him she hated laughing now, because it made her look like Santa Claus, but Harry thought she couldn’t look more beautiful.

“That’s so pretty! Can we all go when the baby is here?” Tallulah asked, puckering into a pout as she begged.

“I think that’s a great idea, Lulah. We were just talking about that, weren’t we, Harry?”

Harry perked up from where he had been washing a sandy shell off in the ocean and suddenly appeared in view of the camera and took the phone from Y/N. 

“Hmm?” he asked as he studied Tallulah’s appearance.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Mitch to watch his baby girl while he went away for a week with his other baby girl, it was that him and Sarah voluntarily asked to babysit Tallulah and that’s what made him so apprehensive to accept their offer. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about a sleepover at Uncle Mitch and Aunt Sarah’s every now and then, but to want to watch his daughter for an entire week certainly was. Harry felt like Mitch was plotting against him and that he’d come back to Tallulah with bright blue hair and bangs or she’d be sporting the world’s worst potty mouth when she came home, but so far that didn’t seem to be the case. 

She was wearing Harry’s “Dream Boat” shirt that she’d claimed as her own a few years back when Y/N had taught her to wear her father’s clothes when she missed him because the smell would remind her of him (he had to steal it back and sleep in it a few times every now and then to keep his scent on it), and her long, brown hair was damp and neatly braided into two plaits and hanging off her shoulders. That had to have been Sarah’s doing, because Harry knew Mitch could barely put his own hair into a ponytail without creating several lumps and redoing it eighteen times before it looked presentable - meaning he certainly wouldn’t have been able to make a five-year-old sit still long enough to braid her hair perfectly. 

She looked fine, though. Happy, healthy, certainly didn’t have blue hair or bangs and hadn’t said a single naughty thing since she’d been on the phone with Y/N.

“Lulah wants us to come back here after the baby’s born and take her with us,” Y/N beamed.

“I think we can work that out. Sounds quite lovely, actually,” Harry concurred.

“Yeh bein’ good for Mitch and Sarah?”

“Mhmm,” Tallulah nodded.

“We had pizza for dinner.”

“That sounds yummy,” Harry enthused, trying to let his daughter know he had his full attention.

“It was bery good,” she sighed.

There was a long pause before Tallulah blurted out suddenly in the most serious tone, “When are you gonna shave the rest of your mustache? Mitchy was making fun of you today.”

Harry was caught between a gasp and a laugh, which resulted in him choking on his own spit. Y/N turned on her heels in the sand to look at him with wide eyes. 

“You okay?” Y/N mouthed quietly to Harry, completely oblivious to everything that had happened in the last thirty seconds.

Harry nodded, wiping the involuntary tears from his eyes as he coughed himself back to life and regained his composure.

“What exactly did Uncle Mitch say about my mustache?” he prodded.

Tallulah shrugged, subconsciously wiggling her loose bottom tooth with her tongue.

“Don’t ‘member. Just that you look weird with it.”

“Well that’s not a very nice thing t’ say, is it?”

“Mummy said you look weird, too,” Tallulah spouted without hesitation.

Her comment left Y/N’s mouth agape, covering her smile with her palm as Harry’s raised eyebrows feigned offense in her direction.

“She did?” Harry asked sarcastically, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Yeah,” Tallulah sighed as if it was exhausting having to tell your own father that his facial hair looks off-putting.

“I think you should shave it, too. It’s scratchy when you kiss me goodnight.”

All Harry could offer in return was stunned laughter while Y/N hid her face in Harry’s peck. Her bump pressed lightly into his and even though he was pretending to be mad at her, he wouldn’t dare think about pushing her off of him - not while she was this warm and cozy against his chest. 

“Well, if mummy really hates it I suppose I’ll get rid of it. But,” Harry pauses and pulls Y/N out from where she had burrowed her face into his sweater.

“I think I might know a trick that’ll convince her t’ let me keep i-”

“Enough!” Y/N exclaimed, clamping both of her hands around Harry’s mouth.

Harry chuckled against her palm and poked his tongue through his lips to lick her fingers, which sent her hands flying back down to her leggings so she could wipe them dry.

“I swear to god, Harry. You’re five years old,” she joked with a disgusted expression on her face, to which Tallulah had something to say to that. 

“No, I’m five years old!”

The two adults laughed in unison.

“Alright, Lulah. We’re gonna go inside now. ‘S gettin’ kinda cold out,” Harry said.

“We’ll call you tomorrow before bed. Alright, lovebug?” Y/N added.

“Okay,” Tallulah huffed.

“We love you, Lulah,” Harry spoke softly into the microphone.

“Love you, too...Daddy wait!”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Give the baby kisses for me. And no bikes!”

Harry wanted to laugh, but he also wanted to cry, so he settled on a closed-mouthed smile that was enough to convince Tallulah that he was unbothered by what she said.

“Kisses for the baby and no bikes. Got it,” he nodded.

“Okay, I’m gonna go eat some sweets with Sarah!” the child yelled, suddenly energetic like she had temporarily forgotten that her and Sarah had baked cookies twenty minutes before Y/N called.

“Alright, but it’s almost bed time so not too m-!” was all Harry could answer to before his daughter ended the call and presumably raced to where ever Sarah was in their house. 

“‘S like she doesn’t even miss us,” Harry mumbled as he placed Y/N’s phone in his back pocket and began walking back up to the cottage with his arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulder. 

Y/N hummed, basking in the warmth that radiated from Harry’s chest as he held her.

“They’re just buttering her up. She’ll be crying to leave by the time we get back.”

“Just don’t really know why they were so keen on keepin’ her t’ be honest.”

Harry positioned himself one step behind her as they walked up the stone steps together, keeping one hand on the small of her back. Y/N peered over her shoulder at him, her tight lips curling up into a smirk as if to say she knew something he didn’t.

“What?” Harry asked.

Y/N shrugged, “Promised I wouldn’t tell.”

Harry clearly didn’t like that answer, because he moved his hand that was supporting her waist and quickly pinched her bum.

“Tell me,” he demanded, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed together in what could be considered a childish pout that mimicked Tallulah’s.

Y/N sucked her lips into her mouth, contemplating whether or not she should spill the beans on the news Sarah had shared with her a few weeks prior.

“They’re gonna start trying for a baby soon,” she whispered as if were a long-kept secret told in a room full of nosey people despite the two of them being alone on the otherwise desolate beach.

Harry’s ears perked up, a wide smile adorning his face from ear to ear.

“No fucking way,” he mumbled, and suddenly all of Mitch’s incessant hammering of baby questions he’d sent Harry’s way in the past few months suddenly making a lot of sense.

Harry thought he was trying to be a good friend and stay engaged in Y/N’s pregnancy, but now he understands the real reason behind his behavior.

Y/N nodded deviously as they make their way into the living room of the cottage.

“They’ve been asking everyone they know with kids to let them come over just to see if they can handle it. I mean, if you ask me, I think they’ll do great. Nothing wrong with trying it before buying it, I guess,” she said with a shrug.

“God, he’s gonna be such a good dad,” Harry was practically beaming for his closest friend.

“I know,” Y/N agreed, walking over to Harry to hold both sides of his head in her hands as if he was a disobedient puppy being disciplined.

Her bump prevented her from getting too close to Harry’s chest, the roundest part of her belly nudging Harry’s tummy.

“They’re both very excited. Which is why, when he finally decides to tell you, you have to act surprised. Act like he told you you just won the lottery or something. Alright?”

Harry sarcastically changed his facial expression to mock bewilderment. His eyebrows rose well off into his forehead and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he gasped.

“How’s that? Think he’ll buy it?”

Y/N jokingly jabbed him in the shoulder.

“Smartass. I’m going to take a shower. I’m sticky and I smell like the ocean.”

“Guess I gotta keep workin’ on it, then.”

When he’s done cleaning up what was left of their dinner, he heads to the master bedroom with the intention of washing up in the shower after Y/N. He’s messing around with the A/C unit on the window to make sure it’s not set to a temperature that will smother them in their sleep and unpacking their luggage into the wooden dresser, where an antique turntable rests.

Stacked long the side of the record player, there was a handful of old vinyl, most of which Harry either recognized or new very well. He was actually shocked to find a Shuggie Otis album in the collection, to which he quickly slipped the record out of the worn sleeve and set the needle to the edge and waited for the soft sound to fill the room while he worked. 

“That thing works?” Y/N’s voice broke up the old 70s tune as she exited the bathroom with her hair tied up with one of Harry’s scrunchies that she stole out of his toiletry bag, wrapped in only a towel that barely fit around her form.

“I know,” Harry agreed, “Needs a new needle but other than that ‘s in pretty good shape.”

“Leave it to you to find a rental with 70s records in the bedroom,” there was a lighthearted tone in her voice as Y/N poked fun at him.

She padded over to her luggage in the corner of the room for a change of clothes, only to realize Harry had unpacked it all for them. As she’s rummaging through the drawers trying to figure out where Harry had put what, she lets her towel drop to the floor freely.

Harry doesn’t know how must time has passed, but he knows he’s staring. He’s staring at the water droplets that drip from the stray hairs on the nape of her neck and run down her bare back. He’s staring at the swell of her stomach where their baby lies, at the faded, almost-shiny stretch marks on the sides and the newer, darker ones on the underside that had only recently broken through. He’s staring at the bracelet on her wrist, the one that’s braided pink and blue with three beads on it - one ‘H’, one ‘T’ and one heart. Tallulah made it for her at school one day and told her the heart was for the baby and also because she loved her. It was hanging on by its last few threads, threatening to snap as each day passed, but she refused to take it off.

All he does know is that he loves her so much that he thinks none of this is real and that he’ll wake up one day and be in his early twenties again with no direction in life and the insidious feeling that he’ll die alone without ever finding his “person.” It’s when Y/N called out to him and snapped him out of his thoughts that he’s realized his underwear are suddenly feeling incredibly tight.

“Har,” Y/N beckoned him away from whatever had been occupying his brain.

“Hmm?” 

He resituated himself on the bed and crossed his legs in an attempt to hide himself from her.

“I said the hot water in there’s kinda shit, so you’ll probably want to wait a little bit before you get in.”

“‘S alright,” Harry dismisses, “Come ‘ere.”

He draws her towards him with an outstretched hand, navigating her around the bedpost and over to the side where he had been sitting. With the gentlest of touches, he runs his fingers over her bare legs. The coolness of his rings don’t make well with her skin that was still extremely warm from her shower, causing hundreds of tiny goosebumps to erupt around her thighs. Harry raises her shirt, one of his that she stole when her own clothes became too uncomfortable, but even now she’s nearly stretching this one to its limit, and rests it on top of her bump.

She doesn’t question him, doesn’t chastise him. She lets him love on her, lets him press kisses to her skin just above her belly button (making sure to give an extra one from Tallulah per her request) and rest his cheek against her stomach while his other hand feels around on the other side in hopes to feel the baby move or kick or do something to let him know that they’re there. Lucky for Harry, baby knows when their dad is around and is quick to make themselves known, so he takes a second to savor these last few moment he’ll have with his newest bub before they’re earth-side in a little less than two months.

Y/N lets him be because she knows how important this is to Harry. She knows that he never got these moments with Tallulah and that it’s one of the things that plagued him during those nights where he feels lonely despite her being asleep right next to him. He never got to feel her kick in her mum’s tummy and he didn’t get to see her grow from the size of a pea to the size of a melon before she was welcomed by her parents and the rest of her family that had been waiting anxiously for her arrival. 

No, Tallulah was dropped on his doorstep like a wet kitten in the middle of the night. Shivering and crying and just needing someone to hold her and tell her that it was going to be alright because her mother had decided she’d be better off elsewhere. Of course, she was too small to remember, but Harry could never forget it.

So, it’s the least she can do. To let Harry love on her. Love on them.

Her eyes catch his once or twice and she can see the gears in his head turning. There’s something on his mind and he’s hesitant to tell her what it is. Y/N lifts his head by tilting his chin up, her index finger brushing over the healed scar on the underside of his jaw from a few months prior.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” she whispered.

Harry shakes his head, a grin on his lips.

“‘M just really, really happy right now. Happy tha’ I’m here w’ you.”

Y/N smiles back at him genuinely before pulling away from his grasp and gesturing to his lap.

“And I’m happy that I’m here with you. Seems like your little friend is really happy, too.”

A soft groan emits from Harry chest, having realized he’d uncrossed his legs at some point and his very prominent bulge had come into Y/N’s view.

“Sorry, lovie. Didn’t mean t’ make it like tha-”

“I’m just messing with you. You know,” she ponders, “I was half-way kidding when I asked about your lungs earlier. But... This will be the last time we’re kid-free for a while,” she taunted.

“Are yeh asking?” Harry jests and points his thumb towards the bathroom door, “‘Cos I was actually plannin’ on just having a wank in the shower.”

“Oh, okay,” Y/N shrugs and moves his hands off of her waist as she pretends to walk towards the living room.

Before she can take two steps, Harry’s standing up and pulling her back into him for a kiss. It’s full of heat and passion and almost knocks Y/N off of her feet. He cradles her head in his large hands and moves to whisper in her ear.

“Really gonna let me fuck yeh?”

A quiet chuckle escapes her lips, to which she replies, “What else did you think we were gonna do all week?”

He’s unable to bite back his own laugh, and it’s the sweetest sound to ever grace Y/N’s ears.

“Then get on the bed and take yeh clothes off.”

They work quickly, as they’ve conditioned themselves to do over the years of squeezing in any time they can together before they’re interrupted. Y/N lies back on her elbows as she waits for Harry to undo his pants and her breath catches in her throat when his boxers hit the floor. 

His cock is hard, not fully, but the sight of the first few beads of glistening precum causes a shiver to run down her spine. She’s blown him a handful of times since he’s been in recovery, but she’s been far too pregnant and he’s been far too injured lately to engage in any kind of actual fun. It’s safe to say that they’re both more than ready. 

Harry scratches at his scalp, unsure of how to word his questions as he looks her body up and down.

“How do you...erm...how do you wanna-?”

“My stomach, please,” Y/N says with a laugh.

She quickly reaches for one of the pillows behind her and gets on all fours, wedging the object underneath her bump to keep some of the weight off of her back. Slowly, she arches her spine down towards the mattress, and the glimpse Harry catches of her pussy through the light of the setting sun is enough to send another jolt straight to his cock.

Harry wastes no time joining her on the bed, caressing her hips and moving back to massage the plump skin of her ass. He leans down on top of her, flips her hair over to one side, and begins sucking on the sensitive skin between her neck and jaw.

“Gonna let me taste yeh first, right?” he mumbles into her skin.

Y/N hums in response, attempting to rock backwards in order to feel Harry’s cock rub against her backside. She hears Harry laugh, presumably because he’s caught on to her neediness, so it only pushes him further to be the tease he’s notorious for being.

He sponges wet kisses down her back, getting a rise out of every audible breath that leaves Y/N’s throat.

“Relax, baby,” Harry says when he feels her growing tenser as his kisses travel closer to where she needs him the most.

“Gonna get yeh there. Just gotta be patient.”

Harry presses one last kiss on the final notch of her spine before using one of his hands to spread her legs open just a little bit further. When he parts the globes of her ass, his mouth waters. Her pussy is shimmering with her arousal, perfect and on display just for him. 

He tests the waters by running the tip of his tongue from her clit up to her center and he hears a sigh of relief leave Y/N’s lungs at the contact. Next, he’s massaging her folds, exploring her and refamiliarizing himself with the way she tasted. Harry feels her relax into the mattress with each lap of his tongue against her, silently begging him for more. His tentativeness allows him to read her body language and he draws back momentarily to spread her lips apart with his middle and index finger.

The cool air against her core stuns Y/N, but is quickly drowned out with a moan when she feels Harry’s warm saliva drip from her ass down to her clit. His mouth is back on her before she can recover from the sensation, lapping her up and flicking at her clit with his tongue and driving her mad. He’s got his nose buried inside of her as he devours her in the way that he’s really been yearning to for months (he doesn’t count the late night or early morning quickies because he claims he never gets to spend as much time taking care of her as he really wants to). The scruff from his mustache is staunch against her soft folds, but Harry’s tongue is quick to soothe the burn and she loves it.

He smirks against her as she lets out a particularly loud moan when his facial hair brushes against her clit. What was that about shaving my mustache? he thinks to himself but does not dare say aloud.

When he senses that she needs even more, his fingers move from spreading her apart to pressing against her opening. Gathering her wetness on his digits, he slowly pumps them in and out of her. Y/N’s mewls and whimpers are like music to his ears and only spurs him on further. He ruts his hips against the comforter, anything to relieve the throbbing between his legs that is a result of how pliable she’s become for him. She’s soaking the rings on his fingers in the most picture-perfect way and Harry truly genuinely can’t get enough of it; and neither can she. Which is why he’s confused when one of her hands swings around her backside to stop Harry from working her open.

“Har-” she pants.

He withdrawals all contact immediately and peaks his head around to look at her face.

“Yeh good?” he asks as she’s stands up on her knees and turns around to face him.

“‘M great. Wanna be on top now,” she says, her lips plump and swollen from biting down on them so harshly that she nearly drew blood.

“You sure? Yeh don’t want me t’ finish yeh first?”

His eyes dart from her lust-blown eyes to her round belly.

“Mhm. Now lay your pretty ass down before I change my mind.”

She doesn’t have to tell him twice and he’s rolling over on his back, working his way to prop himself up against the headboard. His cock is red and leaking against his stomach, excruciatingly waiting to be buried inside of his girl. He wonders why she’s staring at him with an annoyed expression on her face, but then she speaks up.

“Do you see how pregnant I am? Gonna have to lay all the way down, shit head.”

He does as he’s told and he’s honestly scared that he’ll cum in five seconds if she doesn’t get on with it. 

“I swear to god, if you laugh at me,” she grunts as she straddles his waist, “I’ll cut it off.”

“‘M not gonna lau-”

It’s his turn to moan aloud when she grips onto his cock, running it across her folds to collect as much wetness as she can before she allows him to stretch her out. He’s focusing so much on not losing it right then and there that he doesn’t realize she’s stopped and is waiting for the go-ahead. Through his dark, thick lashes, he nods; as if she would have to ask.

Harry reaches for her hands as she lowers herself onto him, the two of them squeezing a bit too harshly when she reaches the last few inches. The burn consumes Y/N from the inside and out, but it’s never felt so right to either of them. 

She’s not moving just yet, but her cunt is pulsing around him and it feels almost as good as the real thing. They’re staring at each other, both with looks that relay more than words.

“Love you,” Harry’s face softens as he looks up at her.

“Love you, too,” Y/N smiles as she leans down as far as she can in search of a kiss.

He meets her in the middle and their lips find one another and mash together in harmony. The rocking of their hips reminds both of them what they’re actually doing, and causes both of them to gasp at the way Y/N pumped Harry half-way in and out of her. 

When she’s settled back down on the base of his cock, she begins slowly rutting herself back and forth. It takes her just a little bit longer than usual to work up a steady rhythm, but when she’s got it, boy does she got it and it feels so fucking good. The tip of Harry’s cock is pressing against the deepest parts of her and before she knows it, there’s a warm coil winding up in her tummy that bounds itself tighter and tighter inside of her.

She needs to go faster and she needs to go faster now, so she braces her hands on Harry’s chest as she continues to fuck herself on Harry’s cock. Harry lets out a sound that she can’t tell apart between a groan of pleasure and one of pain. His hands dart quickly from where they’d been gripping at her thighs to grip at her wrists.

“Can’t do tha’, lovie. Not the ribs.”

“Shit,” she laughs, subconsciously clenching down on his shaft in the process.

“Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Harry reassures her as he repositions her hands on his shoulders so she can still have something to grab on to.

“Keep going.” 

Her bump is now cradled against Harry’s stomach and it allows her to find relief in the way that her clit is brushing against the trimmed nest of hair that lies around the base of his thick, throbbing cock. He’s twitching inside of her so much that she can feel it alongside her thrusts as they continue. They both won’t last much longer and they know it. 

“‘M getting close.”

“I know,” Harry pants beneath her.

She switches positions, now with her fingers digging so hard into the meat of Harry’s thighs that her knuckles are changing color. She’s able to lift her hips up and down a bit more from this angle, and it allows Harry’s cock to nudge against her sweet spot.

“Feels so good, H,” she whimpers so quietly that almost Harry couldn’t even hear it.

“‘S that it? Right there?” he mocks as he works at meeting her thrusts with his own.

The best he gets from Y/N is a nod as she focuses the best she can on getting herself there. She’s coating him with her juices with each pump and with one glance down at where they’re joined together nearly shoots Harry over the edge.

“Yeh gonna cum f’ me?” Harry asks as his thumb reaches under her to begin rubbing circles on her clit.

“Gonna give me a good one?”

His movements coupled with his words catalyze the tightness within her, threatening to snap at any moment. She’s definitely sweaty and tired of being on top, but she’s so close now that she wills away the pain in her lower back and thighs.

“Come on, bunny. Give it to me.”

He works with that he can and makes sure he’s slamming into her as deep as he can, speeding up the pace he’s making with her clit in the process. 

She cums with a strangled, “Fuck,” and a shrill cry of his name, and that’s all he needs to meet his end as well. The world is black and quiet for the two of them for just a brief moment, and then they’re both seeing all of the stars in the galaxy.

Her walls are coated with the warm ropes of his seed and spills out of her as she milks him, coaxing all she can out of both hers and Harry’s orgasms. Y/N can feel the last few twitches of Harry’s cock inside of her and her movements slow to a stop. 

His cum is splashed along her inner thighs and around Harry’s shaft, and they’re both struggling to catch their breath. Y/N feels sorry for him for a brief second when she sees him clutching onto the left side of his ribs, but then she remembers the situation that put him there in the first place and great incredible fuck she just gave him and so she decides not to dwell on it too much. 

Serves him right.

She collapses on the bed beside him, the two of them staring idly at the ceiling. It’s nearly dark now, the sun having set long ago and only their silhouettes are visible in the moonlight. Harry reaches over to pet her cheek and press a kiss into her hair as their breathing slowly but surely evens out and they come to.

They’re both too tired and fucked out to have a lucid conversation, so they’ll save that for tomorrow. No. Right now was for cuddles and falling asleep to the sounds of each other’s soft breaths and the peace of mind knowing that they can do this every single night for the rest of their lives if they wanted to because they’re getting married and they have a family together and they’re so in love with each other that nothing else matters.

When Y/N finally manages to muster up the energy to lift herself from the mattress and waddle to the bathroom, Harry breaks the silence.

“Hey,” his voice is calm and collected and there’s a smirk on his face.

“Hmm?” she answers as she cranes her neck and braces herself on the door frame of the master bathroom.

Her other hand is caressing her bump, a tick that she’d picked up over the months whenever she wasn’t doing anything important.

“Sit on m’ face in the morning?”

There’s that laugh again. The one that Harry loves and swears came straight from the angels above.

“With pleasure,” she winks as the door closes behind her.

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

plastic smile

Pairings - dark Charles Blackwood x Reader

Word Count - over 4.7k

warnings - oral (f and m receiving), major character manipulation

A/N - huge thanks to @buckyownsmylife @bestofbucky and @supremethunda for beta reading this. Thanks also to @eurynome827 for helping me to choose the gif. The poem in this is by Vinicius de Moraes and might be one of the most beautiful things I've read. As usual this is 18+ only so please don’t interact if you are a minor

It had been a long day at the diner and you only started two hours ago, your usuals were the only thing getting you through it. You lived in a small town where everyone knew everyone so when the red sports car arrived that morning it’s all anyone could talk about.

Charles Blackwood walked into the diner and sat at the counter like he owned the place, his aura was the kind that everyone was drawn to; he was domineering and confident but friendly. You turned his coffee cup over and filled it up with the dark liquid. “Can I get you anything to eat today?” Smiling at him as he looks over the menu, you observe his features; strong jawline, soft curly hair, thick pouty lips and large uncalloused hands.

It takes you a moment to realise he’s asking you for pancakes, you blush and smile sweetly writing his order down and passing it back to the kitchen. Earl, one of your favourite regulars, asks for a refill, beckoning you over. “You be careful with him, don’t go getting any thoughts. He’s a Blackwood,” he tells you in warning.

The Blackwoods were almost an urban myth in the town, you only ever saw Merricat once a week and never her sister since the ‘incident’. The whole town was terrified of them, people always fear what they don’t understand. You however, thought they must be lonely and always tried to make an effort to speak to Merricat when she came in for her drink. Sure, she was a little odd but she was always polite and never forgot to thank you before she left, you always thought some of your other customers could learn a thing or two from her.

Passing Charles his pancakes, you catch your breath when he looks up at you with those big, blue eyes of his and smiles at you, grabbing your hand to ask you to stay. You stood chatting while the diner was emptying, feeling butterflies at how attentive he was, he asked you so many questions about yourself and actually listened to the answers. After finishing his third cup he pays, leaving you a hefty tip, and winks saying he’ll see you again tomorrow.

Watching him drive past in his flashy car, you can’t help but wonder why on earth he spent so much time getting to know you, you come from very different worlds. Wiping the countertop down and finishing up, you grab your bag and shout through to the kitchen, letting them know they’ll see you tomorrow.

Everyone around town seems to be talking about the Blackwoods today, you go to the library and hear Mrs Conners talking on the phone with goodness knows who about how Charles has come back, you then go to the park to sit and read when you hear two mothers gossiping while their children run around. You can’t understand the fuss but nothing ever happens in this tiny town, people talked for weeks when poor Sarah got flipped off her horse and broke her leg.

The next morning went the same as usual, you filled coffee cups, brought eggs and wiped down tables, that was until Charles came back and sat down in the same seat as the day before. He smiled at you and you held your fingers up to let him know you’d be right there, he grabbed a newspaper and read patiently refusing a drink from Barbara while he waited for you.

You flipped his cup round and poured him a coffee. “You know she has the same coffee as me,” you teased him, passing him the sugar and pulling your notepad out to take his order.

“Yeah but yours is so much sweeter,” he says, pushing the white crystals away and taking a sip of the bitter drink.

You try not to smile at the strange compliment but fail quite spectacularly when your mouth practically splits your face in half. “I’ll go and order your breakfast Mr Blackwood”.

Turning to add his ticket to the wheel. “It’s Charles.” You look back at him curiously.

“I’m sorry what was that?” You walk back over to him.

“You can call me Charles darling, Mr Blackwood is too formal. That’s my fathers name so please call me Charles.” He stares at you as though he’s staring through your soul, you lean forward and flip the paper over, grabbing your pen and passing it to him.

“I’m stuck on 10 down.” Pointing at the half finished crossword puzzle.

The diner has emptied again and you’re sitting laughing with Charles while you wait for the lunch crowd to show up, he is cute and funny, nothing like the other guys in town, the butterflies never really go away when he’s around you.

After your lunch shift, you grab your book so you can go and read in the park again when you see him across the street, leaning against the car. “Wanna go for a drive?” He opens the passenger door and gestures for you to take a seat, you don’t even think about it before skipping over and climbing in.

“So darling, tell me where you want to go,” he asks, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it. You almost melt into the seat, not able to speak for a moment before clearing your throat and pointing him in the direction of the beach on the outskirts of town. You talk for hours, you tell him about how your parents both died a few years ago, how you’re trying to save up enough money to move to the city and how you’re trying to write a book.

He’s such a good listener, you feel like you’ve talked for hours about yourself, which is refreshing because usually you’re the one people talk to. You could charge an hourly rate in that diner, listening to people’s troubles. He smiles that big beautiful smile at you and leans in to kiss you, it’s soft but demanding, grabbing the back of your head to deepen it, you moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue in and strokes the top of your mouth.

Pulling back and rubbing his nose against yours, he looks down at you. “You’re so beautiful, I could just keep you forever.” Blushing at the cute compliment, you hide your face in the crook of his neck. He gives you a moment before tipping your chin up with two fingers and staring into your eyes. “I can’t believe one little compliment makes you so shy, you should be told everyday how precious you are my little dove.”

Dropping you back off at the diner for your evening shift, he waits for you to get through the door before waving goodbye and driving away. You float around on cloud nine for the whole shift and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by your boss, who has watched everything from the moment Charles first walked into the diner.

Calling you into his office, he asks you to take a seat. “Look, your private life is none of my business but please just be careful with him, he’s not what he seems. The whole Blackwood family is bad news.” You nod and smile at the elderly man who has always looked after you since your parents passed away. You respect him but he doesn’t know Charles very well, if everyone took the time to understand him better they’d see what a sweet person he was.

The end of your shift comes quickly and once again he waits across the street, leaning against his car and smiling at you. “Need a ride home?” You walk across to him and throw your arms around his neck. “Oh, someone is happy to see me,” he chuckles and kisses the top of your head.

Directing him to your house, he drives with one arm wrapped around your shoulder, running his fingers over your neck gently, setting your whole body on fire. Such a soft, gentle touch and you’re already absolutely desperate for him. Pulling up to the front of your little cottage, he switches the engine off and pulls your face up for another deep, soul clenching kiss. Leaning back you look at him bashfully. “Would you like to come in for a coffee?” He nods and kisses your forehead softly before telling you to stay put, running around the side of the car, he opens the door and holds out his hand to help you out.

You show him around before going to the kitchen and making coffee, taking out your best mugs, most of your kitchen stuff comes from the diner, and grabbing some snacks. You’re just leaning up to pick something out of the cabinet when you feel him pressed up against your back, he grabs the packet you were reaching for and sets it down on the counter. “It’s almost like I’m made to be here, looking after my little dove,” he whispers in your ear before planting soft kisses down your neck.

You breathe out softly as he takes his time finding all of your sensitive spots before turning you and holding your head in his big hands and desperately kissing you. Grabbing your ass, he picks you up and sits you on the counter. “Can I touch you?” He smiles as you nod quickly, moving your skirt up slowly, teasing you. You’re practically begging him by the time he pulls your ruined underwear down, he looks at them and sniffs the wet patch smirking at your embarrassment. “Looks like someone is needy”.

Shutting your eyes, you’ve never felt so absolutely mortified before, but he grabs your chin. “Look at me.” You slowly stare at his face as he grabs your hand and puts it on his hard cock. “Don’t be embarrassed, I want you just as much.” Holding your panties up he smirks. “These are mine now though.” Pushing them into his back pocket he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and kisses around your thighs, tracing a line closer and closer to your wet folds.

You’ve read about this before but no man has ever done it to you and you’d never ask. His tongue is so firm and warm, he knows exactly what to do with it and you feel a new sensation slowly building inside you. He sucks on your clit and pushes what feels like two fingers into your tight wet hole, angling them up, setting your whole body on fire. You moan out loud and grab his thick hair, holding him right in place as you explode, moaning out his name, your voice echoing around your small kitchen.

Pulling your skirt back down to cover you up, he licks his lips and sucks his fingers clean while you catch your breath. “I’ve never tasted anything better before.” Your cheeks warm up again and are about to look away when he softly grabs your face, running his thumb over your lips and jawline. “You are so precious, don’t let anyone tell you any different. I’m going to go now, you need some sleep. I’ll come by in the morning and drive you to work”. You see him out and get cleaned up, pulling the blankets up, you don’t need to read to help yourself fall asleep tonight. You still feel like you’re floating.

You and Charles have been inseparable for the last month, he pretty much lived at your place so you could see more of each other. Every morning he’d wake you up with gentle kisses and touches that set your body on fire, he was so attentive driving you to work and taking your books back to the library when they were due, sitting in the diner doing the crossword puzzle while you work.

It was the best month of your life, so that weekend, when he got down on one knee to propose, you didn’t hesitate in saying yes, sliding his grandma's ring onto your finger, you made love that night and he made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

The next day, you wake up and see a white dress hanging from your wardrobe door, confused you go downstairs to find Charles and see him preparing breakfast for you. Eggs, coffee, orange juice and a flower in a glass just for you, walking up behind him you wrap your arms around his waist and kiss the freckle between his shoulder blades. “Is all this for me?” He turns around in your arms and kisses the top of your head.

“You weren’t supposed to wake up yet, I wanted to surprise my beautiful fiancé.” You kiss his lips and smile running back up the stairs and jumping into bed.

Following you up a few minutes later, he places the tray over your lap. “I have a proposal for you”. You slowly drink the bitter coffee and try not to let your disgust show on your face, he’s clearly never made coffee before but somehow that makes him even cuter to you, now you get to look after him forever.

“Let's go down to the courthouse and get married today, I don’t want to wait another minute to make you mine forever.” It was too soon, you know that, but the look on his face was so cute, you didn't want to hurt his feelings so you agreed, almost crying at the look of happiness on his face. “I found this dress in your closet, it's perfect, you’ll look like my own personal angel.” That was it, that's all it took, your own personal kaleidoscope of butterflies flew around your body. You were so happy you could almost cry.

After breakfast and a little bit of fun, he ran out to get a haircut and grab a few things for the ceremony. You got dressed and pinned your hair up in a simple style. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you felt sad that you didn’t have any family to be with you, you didn’t really have any friends either but you did have Charles and honestly that's all you wanted. Writing down a poem you wanted to say to him after your vows, you tucked it into the hidden pocket on the side of your dress and smiled when you heard the car pull up.

Charles walked in and looked at you like you hung the stars in your soft cotton dress, he passed a small hand tied bouquet of pink roses to you, smiling at how happy you were. “I got us an appointment with the judge, can you be ready in 15 minutes?” You looked in the mirror and nodded, picking up a lipstick to match your bouquet, you swiped it on and went to find your future husband.

An hour later you had said your vows, Charles was smiling so wide when you recited yours, squeezing your hand when you said honour and obey. The judge looked at you and you pulled out the poem, dropping Charles’ hands for a moment before you began;

I know that I’ll love you

My whole life through, I know that I’ll love you

At every farewell I will love you

With desperation I know I’ll love you.

And every verse i write will be my chance to say

I know that i'll love, love you my whole life through.

I know I’m going to cry,

Whenever you’re not here I’m going to cry.

But each time you return will make up for

The loss I felt when you weren’t at my side.

I know I’ll have to bear

A never ending feeling of despair

While waiting for this chance to be with you,

With you my whole life through

A tear rolled down your cheek and Charles wiped it away with his thumb. The judge pronounced you husband and wife and you kissed, his tongue softly caressing yours before he rubbed his nose across yours, your own secret love language.

Climbing into his car, Charles looks over at you smiling. “Shall we go to the diner now so you can quit?” Turning your whole body to look at him, he smiles that big grin that makes you melt. “I’m your husband now, I’ll take care of everything and you will take care of me and our children. I can't wait until you’re swollen with our children,” he says while rubbing your stomach. “You want that, don’t you my little dove? You want to honour and obey me.” Nodding, you turn back and look out the window at the passing scenery.

He stops outside the diner. “You’ve got ten minutes to grab your shit, don’t take all day.” Your stomach drops at the tone in his voice, you can’t think of what you’ve done to upset him but you want your happy and loving Charles back. Gathering your things, your boss tells you he’ll always have a space for you and not to be a stranger, he watches as you cross the street and climb into the car.

You slide up to him like you usually do but he pushes you away. “I’m driving, sit over there” the rejection stings but it makes sense he needs to be safe especially when driving. You sit and play with the roses he got you earlier, sniffing them and smiling at the sweet gesture, in no time at all you’re back at the cottage and he storms off into the house without even waiting for you. Your stomach drops, you must have upset him but you can’t think how or when, you walk into your house and call out for him wanting to apologise and fix whatever happened.

He’s in the bedroom sitting on the bed waiting for you “hey there little dove, come over here, it’s our wedding night don’t you want to make your husband happy?” Nodding you walk over to him and move to kiss him but he pushes you back and opens his legs “kneel down for me” pushing your shoulder down with force your knees hit the floor and you wince at the sharp pain. Undoing his belt and pulling his cock out he gently grabs your hair and pulls you over “make me feel good, be a good wife for me” you nod, licking and kissing his length before sucking the tip into your mouth.

He moans out and the fist in your hair tightens as he pushes you further down, choking you and bringing tears to your eyes. You slap his thighs to get him to ease up but he thrusts up into your mouth even more and groans out before spilling down your throat. Pushing your head back you stumble backwards and hit the floor “mmmm well done” he says lifting you up and sitting you in his lap. “How about you go and make us some dinner and I’ll clean up your mess in here?” He says as he kisses your neck, nibbling on the spot that he knows makes you putty in his hands, you stand up and he slaps your ass making you jump “make something nice for me and fix your hair it's a mess”

A few hours later you’re sitting reading on the sofa when the phone rings, Charles jumps up to grab it and grins a kind of smile you’ve never seen before. Staring at him as he sits back down he looks over at you and smiles “Constance has invited us over for dinner, she must have heard our happy news. It's all coming together my little dove, I’m going to be so rich I won’t have to talk to anyone in the family ever again and people will respect me all across the city”. You look at him confused “what do you mean? You’ll be rich?” But he just ignores your questions and reads the paper.

You wake up the next morning and find a dress hanging up waiting for you, sliding your feet into your slippers you go downstairs to find Charles sitting waiting at the dining table “finally you’re awake, I’ve waited for hours for you. I’m absolutely starving” grabbing the eggs and bread you look at him sitting reading his newspaper, he hadn’t even made himself a coffee. “I need you to look nice for Constance, we need to make a good first impression” you nod your head and give him breakfast trying to kiss him on the cheek but he pulls away.

On the way to Blackwood manor you’ve already been told to be on your best behaviour and you feel tense, sensing your feeling Charles pulls you close and hugs you like he used to, kissing your head and squeezing your shoulders “I’m sorry darling I just want them to love you as much as I do, I didn’t mean to make you nervous” you relax into his side and smile feeling the little flutters in your stomach again.

Constance and Merricat welcome you into their home and congratulate you on your recent wedding “I’m sorry you weren’t there, we were just so excited to tie the knot” Charles says hugging you tight and smiling at his cousins. Merricat pulls you into the garden while Charles and Constance catch up “why aren’t you at the diner anymore?” She whispers, hoping Charles doesn’t hear her, you smile at her knowing she likes her routine “I’m sorry, Charles wants to take care of me so I don’t have to work anymore. We’ll be starting a family soon so I won’t have time for anything else” that’s not what she wants to hear so she storms into the house and barges past Charles while you call after her.

You help Constance prepare lunch and try to get to know her better but she seems to be wary of you, probably because of Merricats reaction earlier. “Charles can you open the wine for the table please” you ask, passing him the corkscrew and biting your lip when he winks at you and blows a kiss. “You two seem to be enamoured with each other” Constance observes as you smile to yourself, grabbing the plate of vegetables “Thankyou, we love each other very much, neither of us wanted to wait too long before making it official”. She nods her head and smiles “I wish we could have met before you married, I want to get to know my new cousin. Merricat speaks so fondly of you” she says as you both walk into the dining area

Merricat comes back for lunch sitting at the opposite end of the table from you all, sneering at everything Charles said. You could see he was getting more and more annoyed with her and you tried to diffuse it before something bad happened by constantly interjecting and getting her talking. Dessert is served and you all sit discussing the weather, which is the safest subject between you all, you’ve discovered, when Charles suddenly changes the subject. “So Constance you sent me a letter saying that I was entitled to some of the family money” you all look at him in shock but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Yes but there were some conditions Charles” she says softly trying not to make a scene. Exhaling a loud breath through his nose he starts “I needed a wife” he nods at you, your face burning with rage as you start to put the clues together. He continues “I need a home, I have that now. So where’s my money” you stare at him with tears in your eyes, before excusing yourself and going to the bathroom.

You take deep breaths to not let your panic take over. Trying to focus your mind on something you grip the edge of the sink and don’t hear him enter, until he leans over your body growling in your ear “don’t you dare fuck this up for me and I’ll make it worth your while”. Staring at each other in the mirror for a moment, the only way out of this is if you nod in agreement and follow him back to the table.

Merricat jumps up and sits by your side gripping your hand “are you ok?” You turn and smile at her nodding your head “I’m fine thankyou I just needed a little air” you take a sip of your wine and turn back to Charles glaring at him but he just smirks “I brought a duffel bag we can fill with my share, we can do it right now get it over and done with”.

Agreeing with him Constance takes him to the safe, leaving you and Merricat alone “you should leave him, he’s just using you” she says quickly and quietly. Shaking your head at her “now Merricat it’s not like that, he loves me he just shows it differently that’s all. He wants to start a family with me” you fake a smile and play with the ring on your left hand.

Once he has his money, Charles quickly makes excuses to leave, hurrying you out of the door with a hamper of food from the pantry, you wave at the sisters and smile as he drives away. Not attempting to get closer to him you sit in silence for the rest of the journey. Getting out before he’s even stopped the engine once you pull up at the cottage, slamming the door in his face and marching up to the bedroom to change.

He walks in a few moments later and picks you up pushing you against the wall, trapping you “listen to me, I needed a wife and you were an easy target. You fluttered your eyelashes the moment you set eyes on me, I knew I could get you exactly where I needed you, now I’m rich and I don’t need you anymore but I am willing to give you a couple of months wages to tide you over but you have to be a good fucking wife until I can get things sorted back home” you smile and nod at him “ok, that seems fair how long will you be here?” Raising a brow at how quickly you agree he contemplates his answer “about a week, maybe more” nodding again you push him back gently and move away from him “I’ll set up the guest bedroom for you, I would prefer it if you would sleep in there”.

He takes a deep breath and leaves the room watching you as he goes, as if he expects you to do something silly behind his back. He has no idea what’s about to happen and you’d almost feel sorry for him if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s a shitty person who deserves everything that's coming to him.

The next few days you play it cool, you want him to be relaxed around you and not raise any suspicion. You cook and clean and play the dutiful wife in all areas but the bedroom, not that he doesn’t try everyday, kissing your neck, rubbing your shoulders while you cook, even whispering filthy things in your ear like he used to but you always say no and turn him down.

Wednesday rolls around, nothing exciting ever happens on a Wednesday. Charles goes for his afternoon nap leaving you downstairs reading your book, you wait 20 minutes before hopping to action. Running to the pantry where he’s kept his duffel bag you quickly unzip it and check it’s all still there, satisfied he hasn’t moved anything you grab it and throw it in his car. Running back to the cupboard under the stairs you grab your suitcase, slip the note out of your book and place it on the end table next to his wallet.

Climbing into his car you start the engine and wait a moment to see if he wakes up, watching the window until you see him, there he is, his face burning with rage as he spots you. You blow him a kiss and speed off, laughing to yourself that you managed to fuck him over once and for all.

He runs downstairs hoping to catch up with you and screams when you’ve already gone, walking back into the house he spots the note you left him “Dear Charles, you were an easy target. Have a nice life”

[tamagoincident]

To Lure a Bird

arthur morgan x reader

summary: The Van der Linde Gang plans to rob a train, too bad you hit it first. You, being the reasonable person you are, coerce rough-looking men to run a job with you in exchange for the stolen money, and everyone gets more than they bargained for.

chapter: 1/10

link: AO3

Chapter One - A Mutual Enemy

On the evening you first heard of the Van der Linde Gang’s presence in Valentine, you stood at the bar of Smithfield's Saloon disguised in men’s clothing. Not a typical Friday for you, as you tried not to make it a habit of sticking around places where reckless men became more reckless the further they disappeared into their cups. But years ago you’d helped the bartender, a giant man named Ernest, drum up enough money to pay off his debtors, and he held you in the highest of regards ever since. It was the only place you could drink without being disturbed. Ernest made sure of that.

“What’ll it be, the usual?” he winked at you, his large hands already reaching toward the whiskey.

You smiled and nodded.

“I have information you might want to hear,” he continued, pouring the liquor into a glass and sliding it towards you. You caught it easily.

“Oh?”

“There was a young lady here last night. Overheard her talkin’ to some fancy pants New Yorker who kept braggin’ ‘bout the luxury train he’ll be taking back to the North. She seemed awfully intrigued,” Ernest said. “And get this, it weren’t the only instance I’d seen her, neither. Few days ago she’d been traipsin’ around the outskirts of Valentine with a bunch of scary lookin’ out-of-towners.”

“Figure they’re planning on robbing the train?”

Ernest shrugged. “It’s easy pickin’. You know how naïve high society can be.”

Maybe easy enough for a one-person job, if done quickly and with care. You’d only robbed a train once with two people you used to run with. You didn’t run with them anymore. It hurt you to think of it.

You held up your glass for a refill and leaned forward, brimming with interest. “Tell me more about this train.”

—

The train tracks rattled underneath Arthur’s feet.

“Get movin’,” he said to Sean, pointing towards the trees hidden in the darkness. Arthur climbed atop the wagon they’d rode in on and placed in the middle of the tracks, which bore five hundred gallons of oil. He widened his stance for balance and pulled a bandana over his mouth and nose. “Here she comes.”

Arthur squinted against the blinding brightness of the incoming headlight, cocking his rifle as it approached. The train’s horn bellowed into the night.

It saw him. Good.

It came to a hissing and screeching halt. A uniformed man stormed out from the front cab. “What's goin' on here? What's—aw hell,” the engineer wailed, kicking the dirt underneath his feet. “Not again! Gettin’ real tired of this shit.” Behind him, a shadow of blurred movement. Charles, ready to strike him unconscious.

Arthur jumped off the wagon. “Hold it!” he yelled to Charles, who paused his assault and instead restrained the man with a pistol aimed at his head. “What d’you mean, ‘Not again?’”

“If y’all are trying to rob us, we’ve already been hit,” he wheezed.

“You’re bluffin’.”

“You and your boys are more than welcome to board and check. Reckon it’s a waste of time though.”

Arthur swore. “Let him go, Mr. S.”

Charles let go. The engineer stumbled forward, sputtering and coughing. In between heavy breaths he said, “Happened near the Heartlands. Strange feller in a mask robbed us blind and then pointed a shotgun at me, gruntin’ at me to start the engine or he’ll call for his gang to kill everyone on board.”

“Why in God’s name would he do that?” Arthur said.

“Beats me. But now that I think of it, he was probably expecting y’all. Here, he gave me this—” he moved to reach into his coat pocket, but ceased upon the chorus of rifles cocking. Sean and John had appeared to find what the holdup was.

“Don’t move a goddamn muscle,” Arthur growled. “Mr. S., if you could kindly grab whatever’s in that fool’s pocket.”

Charles complied, plucking out a wad of paper. He handed it to Sean, who read aloud:

Don’t want the loot, only your attention.

Have your lady informant go back to the saloon and talk to the bartender.

He’ll tell you where to find me.

Cause any trouble and you won’t see a cent.

Sean laughed bitterly, waving the note in the air. “Got us good, didn't he?”

“Give me that, you idiot.” Arthur snatched the note and tilted the lettering towards the train's headlight. “Goddamn it—”

A bullet whizzed by Arthur’s head. The engineer dove to the ground for safety.

“Get on your horses!” Arthur yelled to the gang and whistled. Once in the saddle, he spurred the horse on and rode hard into the trees, past the storm of bullets, and evaded capture.

He was the last to arrive back at camp, after making sure he hadn’t been followed. He passed Dutch’s closed tent and found Sean blackout drunk near the fire. John sat close by, clearly on the same trajectory as the Irishman, with the amount of empty beer bottles at his feet. Arthur cleared his throat. “Where’s Charles?”

John glanced up, eyes bleary and lined with red. In the firelight he looked small and exhausted. “Asleep.”

“You should be too.”

“Well, I ain’t,” John mumbled tipping the beer to his lips and draining it. He tossed the bottle aside with a crash.

“Need me to tuck you in Marston? How ‘bout a bedtime story?”

“Real funny, Arthur."

Arthur sat down across from John, allowing the sound of crickets and snuffling horses to fill the silence between them. When he spoke, his tone was softer. “Don’t think I’ve seen you this shaken. Not even when you was freezin’ your ass off after them wolves got to you.”

John’s gaze dropped to his lap. “I’m a bit rattled, s’all. I got a bad feelin’, Arthur.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you think the law showed up a little too fast?”

“Maybe,” Arthur said. “I’m more curious about the son-of-a-bitch who knew we was gonna rob that train.” He turned, pulling the note he’d stashed into his saddlebag and brandishing it.

“See? You’re worried too. S’not just me.”

“I’m not worried,” Arthur cast the notion aside. No use in admitting to being worried unless there was really something to lose sleep over, especially in front of John, who looked like he was fixing for an excuse to leave again. Arthur didn’t want to be the person to give him one. He would gladly take a bullet before he watched Abigail’s face twist back into sorrow and disappointment on account of John flying the coop.

“We gonna be okay, Arthur?” John asks.

“Can’t tell the future anymore than you can, Marston,” Arthur said, crumpling the note in his fist. “What we can do is find the bastard who pulled the wool over our eyes, and deal with the rest as it comes along. I’ll talk to Mary-Beth tomorrow. Ask her to go back up to the saloon.”

John watched as Arthur tossed the paper into the fire, the edges curling into black.

—

You waited across the tracks from the abandoned trading post in Roanoke Ridge, taking shelter behind a sturdy tree (you’d almost hid behind one crawling with poison ivy vines, what a sight that would have been). The instructions you’d given Ernest to pass on had been clear: Whoever is sent must be on time and arrive alone. You checked your pocket watch. Already a half hour late. Out of desperation you remained a few minutes longer. The sun was almost at its peak in the sky, and you were getting hot with your scarf obscuring the lower half of your face. You cursed yourself for wearing such bulky trousers and long sleeves.

In your mind, the heist had been preferable to wasting away in the heat. With a little theater and luck, you managed to rob the train heading north. You still couldn’t believe your good fortune. Keeping your voice low and husky, the passengers and engineer had mistaken you for some hardened outlaw. You’d threatened them with your non-existent gang that was supposedly trailing close behind. In reality, the only thing riding alongside the train was the horse you’d borrowed from Ernest.

You scanned the landscape with binoculars, on the precipice of calling it a day, when you saw a pair of figures ascend the hill behind the dilapidated structure. The taller of the two was wearing a fading grey shirt that you imagined was once white, which stretched across his broad shoulders. He staked a far contrast to the companion at his left, a leaner man with dark hair that extended past a deep scar on his cheek. Both looked tough and mean. Exactly the type of men you’d hoped for.

Though two against one, the odds weren’t good if things went south.

You dropped the binoculars and reached for your rifle. Steadying yourself, you squinted through the scope, drifting down the length of their bodies until their dusty leather boots came into view. You cocked the gun, exhaled, and took the shot, aiming inches away from them.

“Shit!”

“Thought I’d said to come alone,” you called out. “If one of you gentlemen doesn’t get going, the next two bullets will be right in the forehead.”

“Jesus Christ,” the dark-haired man yelped. “Is that a woman shooting at us?”

“Woman or not, doesn’t change the fact she’s got a goddamn rifle!” the other fired back. “Alright, miss, my friend here is gonna get on his horse and leave. Ain’t that right, Marston?”

“Rode all the way out here for nothin’,'' he complained loudly and whistled. When his horse came around, he placed his foot in the stirrups and swung his leg over the saddle. “If you ain’t back by sundown, I’ll come lookin’ for you, Arthur. Hear that, lady?”

Arthur waved a dismissive hand. You waited until the horse disappeared behind the hills before coming out from the brush. At this distance, you could discern more of his features. The first of which you noticed were bright blue eyes that writers and painters alike had mused over for centuries.

He directed them at you. “There,” he said. “Happy?”

You lowered your rifle. “We’re off to a poor start, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t want no trouble. Just didn’t know what we was walkin’ into,” he said, moving closer, hands up slightly as if to not appear threatening. “You were real vague in that note of yours.”

You reaffirmed your grip on your rifle. “That’s close enough,” you said. Any closer and he’d eclipse you, your neck within snapping distance of those strong hands.

“Then, how about you tell me how this is gonna go?”

In the days leading to this moment, you’d thought of the ways you were going to approach this. Never did you imagine getting this far. “Do you have any idea why I may have invited you here?”

“To gloat, perhaps? About beatin’ us to that train?”

An involuntary upward twitch at the corner of your mouth. “Not quite, sir. I value my time and yours, so I’ll keep it short. I need you.”

Arthur pointed to himself. “You... need me?”

“Yes, you.”

He dipped his head, obscuring whatever expression he was making beneath the brim of his hat. Rubbing his neck, Arthur said, “Can’t imagine why you’d need me, lady. Accountin’ for the fact you don’t even know me.”

“I’ll rephrase. It’s not you I need exactly, it’s somebody like you. And your friend, for that matter.” You paused. “I used to have partners, too. One is dead, the other is in need of rescue. She was kidnapped. I want to hire you to help get her back.”

“Why not go to the sheriff? Seems a hell of a lot easier than getting up to all this trouble.”

“The sheriff?” you scoffed. “You really think he’d risk himself and his men to help me save a working girl from outlaws? Most likely he’d look into my background, and then I’d be arrested before I could even blink.”

“So all we gotta do is save your friend from her kidnappers and what, you’ll pay us?”

“You’ll get the money from the train, and I’ll throw in seventy dollars on top of that,” you said.

“What’s the catch?”

“Pardon me?”

“The catch,” Arthur repeated. “Seems too easy.”

“Didn’t say it’d be easy. Are you familiar with the O’Driscoll Boys?”

A spark of recognition. He was, in fact, familiar. “Yeah, I heard of ‘em. Your friend Emma… them boys captured her?”

You nodded. “A former client of hers runs with that gang. He found us in a hotel room, shot Henry, and knocked me out. When I came to, Emma was gone, and I was alone.”

“Under ordinary circumstances, I’d be glad to help,” he said. “You see, there’s someone I’d need to run this by and he’s already got it out for their leader, Colm O’Driscoll. This’d be the perfect excuse for him to do something goddamn stupid.”

“Please. If you’re familiar with them, you can imagine how awful it must be for her. I’ll even give you half the money upfront,” you said, decocking your rifle and slipping it back over your shoulder by its leather strap.

“Can’t promise nothin’, but I’ll talk it over with some people tonight. Meet me at that saloon in two days, same time. If it goes in your favor, I’ll take you to see the man who makes all the decisions.”

“Are you going to make me wait again?” you asked.

“You’re the one asking for favors, miss.”

“I’m offering a job.”

Arthur’s lips set into a hard line. “A job that might get us into a world of trouble, adding fuel to a fire that’s been burnin’ for a long time now. Frankly, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

And because you didn’t want to push your luck, you fell silent. You watched him call for his horse and mount it.

“I’ll be on time,” he mumbled as an afterthought, and rode off in the direction he came.

[ssa-pretty-boy]

Love and Thunder

Summary: When a thunderstorm rolls in and the power goes out what will Spencer and his girlfriend do to pass the time?

Word Count: 4.4k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smuttttttt - fingering, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT KIDS), penetrative sex

——

The smell of coming rain had been in the air for days. So when dark clouds rolled in, threatening to open up at any given moment, no one really gave it a second thought.  But as the day progressed the normal hustle and bustle of the city grew into something more palpable, its people trying to get indoors before the torrential down pour that was sure to come. 

Spencer Reid was no exception. Though there was something about a good thunderstorm that he found extremely relaxing, he didn’t want to be caught outside in one. Like the rest of the city’s inhabitants he was speed walking down the concrete sidewalks, eternally grateful that his apartment was only a couple of blocks away from his metro stop. 

He managed to make it into the lobby of his building just as the first drops of rain started to sprinkle down. With a grateful sigh, he shucked off his rain coat as he watched the droplets slide down the glass door. The drizzle was slow and lazy, honestly more like a fine mist than true rain. Maybe this was just going to be an average summer rain shower after all.

Taking the stairs two at a time up to the fourth floor, he made it to the last landing with an astonishing amount of grace. For someone who was as uncoordinated as Spencer tended to be, it was a surprise even to himself he made it without so much as stumbling. He unlocked the door and was greeted with the sound of pots and pans clinking together coming from the kitchen. Rounding the corner into his tiny kitchen he saw Y/N at the stove, stirring what smelt like pasta sauce with one hand and holding an open book up to her face with the other. She was mouthing the words as she read and Spencer smiled, he found it incredibly endearing and told her as much as he left his satchel and raincoat on the small table tucked into the corner of the room.

Y/N laughed, glancing up over the top of her book with a warm smile as he came over to her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and settled his chin on the top of her head. “Wasn’t expecting you home yet.”

The book forgotten, she tossed it to the counter and leaned back into him, tilting her head up to place a soft kiss on the underside of his jaw. “I was just extra help today so I got cut loose early because of the storm.”

He hummed again, certainly not complaining that his girlfriend was home. “What are you making?”

She took the wooden spoon out of the pot and held it up to Spencer’s mouth for him to taste, smiling when he groaned and nodded his approval. “My mom sent me a new recipe for a creole Alfredo sauce. Everything else is ready so I just have to it throw in and let it simmer for a few minutes. Why don’t you go wash up and I’ll start setting the table.”

——

When Spencer and Y/N were in each other’s company, they had a habit of blocking out the rest of the world. Spencer had always thought it sounded lame and cheesy when he heard couples say such things but when he met Y/N he understood it instantly. They were just so comfortable around each other, so…compatible, that nothing else mattered to them as long as the other was happy. Especially when they were in the comfort of their own home. 

They had been so wrapped up in each other, in fact, that they failed to notice the changing atmosphere outside. It wasn’t until they settled into bed for the night, when Spencer finally flipped on the TV and mindlessly turned to the weather channel in hopes of seeing a sunny forecast for the following day, that he realized just how intense this storm was going to get. So much for that picnic in the park with Derek, Savannah, and Hank they’d so been looking forward to. Spencer studied the swirling diagram of colors, noting that area which he and his girlfriend called home was already far into the red and it didn’t look like they would be in the green any time soon.

A flash of lightening brought his attention away from the television and towards the window on Y/N’s side of the bed. Pushing the thick duvet back, Spencer climbed from the warmth of the bed and padded towards the window. He reached out with a little hesitance and pulled the curtains back, eyes widening at what he saw on the other side of the glass. Several of the small trees lining the street had been blown over, the street itself in front of the building was flooded, and a few blocks away it looked as though the power had gone out. 

“It’s nasty out there,” he mumbled more to himself than Y/N. She was so preoccupied with painting her toenails, a shade of deep red that Spencer secretly found incredibly sexy, that she hadn’t even noticed him get out of bed to walk over to the window. 

“Is it?” She wasn’t really paying him any mind as she finished painting her left pink toe, the very tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips in concatenation as she did so.

He mumbled a soft ‘yeah’ as he sat down in front of her. Grinning at him, Y/N leaned back against the headboard of the bed and screwed the cap back onto her nail polish before tossing it into the small canvas bag sitting on her bedside table. 

“You like?” The question was rhetorical, she knew how much he liked the color on her and maybe she picked out specially for that reason. She lifted her foot just in front of his face and wiggled her toes to show off the color of the polish. 

Smirking at her, Spencer grabbed ahold of her ankle and pulled her down the bed closer to him, laughing at the squeal that the action got from her. Holding her foot up to his mouth, he pressed a kiss to each toe before slowly beginning to kiss up her foot to her calve then her thigh, all the way up to her waiting lips. “I fucking love it.” 

He let put a playful growl as he dove into the crook of her neck and began to place sloppy wet kisses all over the exposed skin, his fingers ghosting over her sides to start tickling her relentlessly. Her giggles ringing out through the small bedroom were like the most beautiful music he’d ever heard. Their playful fun was cut short though by a bright flash of lightening that washed the room in a bluish hue, both of their head snapping towards the window. Holding his breath, Spencer began to count in anticipation for the clap of thunder that was sure to come. 

1…

2…

3…

4…

There was the deafening crack of thunder he had been waiting on. It sounded like it was directly over head, the very walls of the building seeming to quake. Y/N let out a squeak, clutching onto Spencer’s biceps for dear life as she hid her face in his chest. 

Trying to lighten the mood however he could, he laughed and and pulled back to look at her face. “It’s alright, sweet girl. Just a little thunder and lightning, nothing to be scared of. Well, there’s no need to be afraid of thunder, anyway, seeing as though its really just a sound caused by the lightning. Lightning, on the other hand, can be quite dangerous if-”

With a playful swat to his chest, she silenced him. “As much as I usually love your facts and tangents, that one really didn’t help. Like at all. You know how I am about bad weather! It just freaks me out a little." She admitted the last bit sheepishly, no matter how many times he assured her she had no reason to be embarrassed by her fear of storms, she still hated to admit it. Everyone is afraid of something, he always told her. 

Brown eyes flashing, he looked down at her with a smirk before leaning back back down and pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth before working his way to her jaw.

“Well then, why don’t we do something to take you mind off of it, hm?” He was kissing her throat again as he suggested it, pressing the words into the column of her neck with wet, open mouthed kisses. Her head was already swimming, thoughts foggy as his mouth trailed lower, pulling at the collar of her shirt to get access to her collar bones now. The only response she was able to supply him with was a mumbled “mhm” and a shuddering gasp as his cold hands slipped under her T-shirt to find her bare chest, much more purposeful than the playful tickling had been. His thumbs ghosted over her nipples and she arched into touch, moaning when he pinched the hardening peaks between his thumbs and forefingers.

Just as he pulled the old Caltech shirt off of her, the lamps on either side of the bed along with the TV began to flicker. “Shit,” he cursed as he rolled off of her. “The power is probably about to go.”

Spencer stood from the bed and grabbed his phone from the bedside table just as the electricity flickered off entirely. Switching on the flashlight that was built into his phone, he shone it into Y/N’s face. She squinted into the light, holding up her hands to shield her eyes from the blinding brightness. “I’m going to go get some candles and a lighter. Stay in here, bubs.” 

Quickly making his way down the dark hallway, Spencer headed for the hoard of scented candles he knew Y/N had stashed in the linen closet. He scanned the shelves, and spied the decorative basket tucked into the corner of the top shelf. Honestly, he didn’t even want to know how Y/N had managed to get up there. Even for as tall as he was, he had to stand on his tip-toes to reach it.

He pulled the basket down and rummaged through it, crinkling his nose at a few of the names… Pink Sand, Midnight Cashmere, Home Sweet Home. Why did they all have to have weird names? Why couldn’t they just be named what they were supposed to smell like? Eventually he gave up on trying to find normal ones, just deciding to take the entire basket before going to the kitchen to retrieve a lighter from the junk drawer under the microwave. 

Once back in their bedroom, Spencer began to scatter the candles all over the small space, lighting them as he went. Before long the entire room was aglow with a soft, flickering light. After finally lighting the last few, he tossed the lighter down onto the dresser before going to flop onto the bed next to Y/N. 

Still half naked, she was sitting up with her knees pulled her to chest and staring absentmindedly out of the window. She was too busy worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and watching the rain slap against the glass to pay the slightest bit of attention to Spencer. So he turned onto his side and took the opportunity to watch her.

Right arm propping his head up, he shamelessly let his eyes rake over her from the top of her head all the way to the tips her toes. On their fifth date, he’d noted that candle light made her look ten times as gorgeous as she already was. The tiny flickering flames illuminated her features in ways a light bulb or even the sun failed do. Every date night he had planned since usually involved a lot of candles for that very reason. 

Not being able to resist the temptation any longer, Spencer reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand. Y/N turned her face into his palm and pressed a kiss to the center of it. Their eyes locked and Spencer swore he felt his heart swell in his chest as she stared down at him with what could only be called adoration. It was funny how time seemed to stop completely when she looked at him like that. Like he hung the stars and the moon in the sky just for her. It made him feel like he could fly. 

She moved to lie down facing him, so close that their noses were just centimeters apart, and ran her hands up his arms to his shoulders. The muscles of his arms tensed in the wake of her touch and she batted her lashes up him, feigning total innocence at her actions as his pupils blew wide. Her hands slid back down his chest, her nails pressing into him just hard enough to leave faint red lines in their wake. “I think we were doing something a minute ago.”

“Yeah, I think we were.” His words were husky as he cupped her cheeks in his hands again and leaned in to kiss her. Winding her arms around his neck, she pulled him on top of her and he fell to rest perfectly between her thighs.

One of his hands slipped into her hair and gripped tightly at the roots, snapping her head back so that he could have even more access to her throat and jaw. A wanton moan accompanied the sharp sting of her nails raking over his shoulders when he bit down hard enough to bruise. He bit and sucked relentlessly at her pulse point, fully intending to give her a rather spectacular hickey to sport the next day at work. When he pulled away to inspect his work he smirked at the mark, his thumb brushing over it with just enough pressure to have her whimpering.

Becoming desperate for some sort of relief from the growing tension between her legs, she started grinding herself down onto Spencer’s thigh. The cocky bastard was smirking down at her as his iron grip forced her hips back down onto the mattress. She was already so blissed out she didn’t even realize his hands had left her neck and hair. “Be patient, princess.”

The use of the pet name had her eyes fluttering shut, the asshole knew the effect it had on her and used it to his advantage every change he got. Kissing her swollen lips once more, he pulled away and sat back on his calves to drink in the sight of her; pupils blown wide, lips red and swollen. When she looked like this, all flustered just from his touches and kisses, Spencer could barely control himself. Before going to crawl back over her, he grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and quickly tugged it over his head before tossing it to join her’s on the floor. 

Y/N sat up on her knees, meeting him in the middle of the bed, to kiss him. It was feverish and sloppy, their teeth clashing and nipping at each other’s lips. Both were breathless when they finally parted, heads swimming from the lack of oxygen.  

Placing a firm hand on her chest, Spencer pushed her back to lie back down on the bed. Hovering over her again, he dipped his head down to her chest and took her one of her nipples into his mouth. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as he bit down and tugged at it. He released her after a moment and laved over the bite marks with his tongue before he moved to her other breast. She arched up into his touch, hands tangling in his hair as he continued to lavish her chest with attention. 

“I love your tits,” he told her shamelessly, placing a kiss on each raw nipple before licking up the valley between them.

Despite the filthiness of the words and actions, she snorted out a laugh and shoved his head away from her chest. He was laughing as he pulled away, “I do though!”

“I know you do. And I love your cock but I would really love if it were inside me right now.” She reached down and started palming him through his pajama pants to emphasize her point.

“Remember what I said about having p-patience?” He choked on the words as she gripped him tighter, his head dropping forward onto her shoulder as he shuddered. When he lifted his head back up his cheeks were flushed and his pupils had blown so wide there was only a thin ring of honey brown surrounding them.

He sat back and hooked his fingers into the waist band of her sleep shorts and underwear and jerked them down her legs. When she was completely naked under him, he cupped her sex and practically growled,“I want to play a little first.” 

The words alone were enough to have her moaning and bucking up into his hand, aching for some sort of friction. Spencer ran his middle finger up her slit, gathering her arousal on the digit before bringing it up to her mouth. Without having to be told, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, taking his finger in her mouth and moaning at the taste of herself as she sucked it clean. 

She released him with a soft ‘pop’ and he instantly brought his hand back down to her core. He ran the same finger up her slit again, ghosting over her clit with a few slow, lazy circles this time. Y/N gasped, her hands flying to Spencer’s biceps as he slowly slid the offending digit into her and began to pump it in and out of her. 

She moaned out, arching her back off the bed as he started to pick up the pace, curling it up to perfectly stroke against her front wall each time. “More.” It came out as more of a breathless moan than an actual word but Spencer understood her none the less. “Gimme another one, Spence.”

“So fucking needy, aren’t you?” Despite the comment he complied with her request  instantly. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe as he slipped another long, nimble finger into her aching heat, not even bothering to give her a chance to acclimate to the slight stretch. Spencer’s fingers were fucking into her at a relentless pace, still curling them at just the right angle to have her seeing stars. She had asked for more and damn if he wasn’t delivering.

She was slack jawed as her eyes were rolled back in her head and god damn he had never been happier to have an eidetic memory. The look on her face was going to be what got him off when he was in those cold, lonely hotel rooms across the country. 

“Ah god,” she was panting now, her chest heaving as she chased after her high. “Please don’t stop. Please. Please. Please, Spence.”

He added his thumb to her clit and started pressing small, tight circles to the swollen bundle of nerves. A lewd moan ripped from her throat as her hips bucked up into his hand, much to Spencer’s amusement. With a deep chuckle, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Please what, princess? Use your words.”

A delicious warmth started to settle in her belly as she clenched around around his fingers and Spencer had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at the tightness. “Please let me cum. Please,” she was begging, her voice raw and breathless. And he would be lying through his fucking teeth if he said it didn’t go straight to his cock. He hummed and sped up his fingers, still making sure to curl upward with each thrust. 

Stars flashed in front of her eyes as that warmth in her belly burst into a full blown flame, the fire licking up her body from her toes all the way to her head. Her nails dug into Spencer’s tensed biceps as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her, milking her high for all it was worth. Even as the pleasure started to ebb, he kept up his ministrations to the point where her mewling moans turned into whimpers. She was spasming around his fingers, her walls gripping so tightly around him that he couldn’t help the bucking of his hips into the mattress below them.

“S-Spencer,” she moaned, her hands finally finding his and trying to shove him away. She could already feel another orgasm building, riding the tails of the aftershocks from the first. 

“C’mon,” he purred. “You can do it, baby. Give me another one.”

Her skin felt like it was on fire as her toe curling second orgasm hit her. She was trembling as Spencer worked her through it, his fingers slowing and eventually pulling away from her aching pussy altogether. Another lewd moan was the only sound she could manage at the loss of contact.

“You did so good, princess,” he mumbled as he pressed sweet kisses to the side of her face while she came back down to earth. “You took my fingers so well. Think you can handle my cock now, baby?”

Bleary eyes fluttered open to look up at him and she nodded slowly. Spencer smirked down at her and made quick work of wiggling out of his pajama pants. Y/N reached down to take him in her hand but he swatted her away. His cock was aching and he knew if she took him in her very capable hands he wouldn’t last long at all. “Trust me baby, I’m good to go.”

Grabbing her by her forearm, Spencer hauled her up to sit on her knees before climbing back on the bed behind her. Still fucked out and pliable, she didn’t fight it when he put a firm hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her face down into the mattress. With one hand firmly planted on her hip and the other gripping his dick, he lined himself up with her entrance and slowly pushed in. 

Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was a live wire; everywhere he touched he left fire in his wake. She was a mewling mess beneath him as he set a slow but purposeful pace, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into her. There were sure to be finger shaped bruises along her hips in the morning but she didn’t care, couldn’t care as he started pounding into her like his only purpose in life was to fuck her into sweet, sweet oblivion.

“Fuck,” he panted, “you feel so fucking good, baby. So tight and warm.”

The sound of skin slapping and Y/N moans filled the room as he settled into a quick and brutal rhythm, his hips snapping forward even harder. One of his hands slid up her back and gripped onto the back of her neck, hauling her back to rest against his chest. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream, her eyes screwing shut at the deeper angle the position allowed. He was so deep and she swore she could feel him in her belly when he took her this way. 

“Nu-huh,” he breathed in her ear, thrusts not faltering in the slightest. The hand on the back of her neck came to grip her jaw and turn her head towards the mirror resting on the dresser directly across from the bed. “I want you to watch yourself get wrecked.”

Her eyes fluttered open and looked at her reflection in the mirror, moaning at what she saw staring back at her. The hand he had on her hip slid around her and dipped down to spread her open so they could better see where he was fucking into her. 

“Touch yourself for me,” he told her, his voice husky and commanding. She did as she was told, sticking her fingers in her mouth first to wet them with her tongue before bringing them down to her clit and swirling them in small, quick circles. With a particularly sharp thrust Y/N was cumming again, crying out as her vision went completely white this time around. 

Her walls clamped down around his cock like a vice and Spencer’s head dropped to her shoulder as he groaned, his thrusts starting to get sloppy. “S-Shit. I’m right behind you, baby, just hold on.”

A couple of thrusts later he was cumming, groaning out a string of curses as he spilled into her. His arms around her waist were the only thing keeping her upright as they caught their breath. As gently as he could manage, he pulled out of her and her lie down before collapsing to the mattress beside her.

After a few minutes of basking in their afterglow, Spencer pressed a kiss to the crown of Y/N’s head before he got out of the bed to get a washcloth to clean her up. As he turned off the faucet he realized there was a sudden lack of howling wind and pouring rain. Making his way back into the bedroom, he peeked out the window before returning to bed.

“It stopped storming,” he mused as he gently brought the warm washcloth up between Y/N’s legs.

She winced at the sensation but was otherwise quiet for a moment before admitting, “Honestly, I had forgotten it was even storming in the first place.”

Mission accomplished then, Spencer thought to himself with a soft chuckle as he tossed the washcloth in the hamper next to the dresser. He settled back down on the bed with her, pulling her back to him. He had just about drifted off to sleep when Y/N started to giggle uncontrollably. He peaked an eye open to look down at her as her shoulders started to shake from the fit of laughter.  

“God, the neighbors probably thought we were making a porno.” She was still laughing as she said it but knew fully well that the elderly couple next door probably did hear them. And would no doubt make comments about it the next time they ran into each other in the stairwell. 

A wicked grin took over his face as he looked down at her and laughed, “Now there’s an idea.”

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

In the Still of the Night

Here is my contribution for the Captain Swan Neverland New Year event! You guys, I am so excited to be writing again!!!! Thank you @xhookswenchx for beta reading this baby for me.  Kudos to the mods of @neverlandnewyear for thinking up and putting together this treasure that is Captain Swan in Neverland. Tag list at the end, please let me know if you ever want to be removed or added. 

Summary: Set after Henry is safe (no Pan switch) but before the gang is able to leave Neverland. When Emma is woken in the still of the night, from dreams of a devilishly handsome pirate captain, she decides she needs a midnight swim to cool off. In which Hook and a daringly open Emma have a meeting of the mind, body, and soul. 

     Rated M          8K          ao3           ffnet          Story under the cut, promise

It was the middle of the night when Emma woke, a sweltering, sweaty mess. “Why is this island so fucking hot,” she muttered into the darkness. Having a lascivious dream about Hook had absolutely naught to do with her elevated temperature, it was undoubtedly this goddamn jungle. Now that Pan had been conquered, and Henry was safe, Emma found she was having an increasingly difficult time keeping the smoldering, blue-eyed pirate off of her mind. She needed to get back to Storybrooke, back to some semblance of normalcy... or whatever. She silently cursed Gold for not having found a way to get her father home safely yet. 

Ripping the covers from her body, she got up from her bunk below Henry’s and checked on him. Seeing that he was sound asleep, she headed topside. The deck of the Jolly Roger was blessedly deserted. Emma leaned against the railing, looking toward the vast jungle that was Neverland and she shuddered despite the hot, humid air that surrounded her. The shudder wasn’t due to the jungle itself. Since they’d defeated Pan, Hook had shown the group many of the island’s hidden beauties. He had stories for every spot he showed them, some hilarious, some melancholy, some quite ordinary, and others downright terrifying. There were quaint trails, refreshing springs and ponds, fascinating wildlife and vibrant plant life. It was actually quite a dream destination when a maniacal man-boy wasn’t playing psycho. 

No, it wasn’t the jungle causing that shudder. She couldn’t get that goddamn kiss off her mind. Emma bit her lip as she reminisced about the way his lips had caressed hers, the way his tongue had slipped into her mouth hungrily but also tenderly. A one-time thing, she’d told Hook. Now if she could just maintain that lie, because that’s what it had been. She really needed Gold to find a way to magic David’s health back so they could get off this god forsaken island already. 

She decided that the time for sleep was past, she was wide awake now, with thoughts of that damn pirate. A midnight dip would be ideal, especially while everyone was asleep. Emma left the Jolly Roger and headed toward the secluded pond that Hook had shown them. Once they’d no longer had to worry about being attacked, they’d created a regular schedule for bathing, so everyone had their own time. Luckily, no one’s time was right now.

Traversing quietly through the jungle, Emma admired the beauty around her. The greenery was lush, the effulgent dew made it seem more alive than any plants she’d ever been around. The blossoms surrounding the path were some of the largest she’d ever seen - they were dazzling pinks and oranges. She wondered if she had missed all this in her haste, fatigue, and desperation while finding Henry, or if the jungle had only come to life since the man-child was no more. 

She followed the trail Hook had shown them, until she came upon the pond that was shrouded below an overhang at the base of what Hook had referred to as Dead Man’s Peak. The name hadn’t initially inspired comfort in the group, but when David explained to them that the water at the top of the peak was what had cured him, their perspectives changed. Emma swore there must be some restorative properties here at the base because she always felt rejuvenated when emerging from the water.

Stripping as soon as she broke the tree line, she discarded her clothes beneath a tree along the sandy shoreline. Her flesh pebbled as it met the open air, and she felt a freeness as she walked to the water’s edge. She dipped her toes in tentatively, knowing the water would be agreeable as always. Emma was immersed thigh deep before diving down below the surface and swimming toward the middle. 

The water sluiced around her body soothingly while she held her breath as long as she could, before breaking the surface. Emma pushed her hair back then ran her hands over her face before opening her eyes. She enjoyed this spot, a sandbar of sorts, deep enough to cover her body, shallow enough that she could still reach, and far enough from all surrounding shore should anyone happen upon her.

The silence that enveloped her was serene and she looked up at the star filled sky. A shooting star floated across the heavens, but just as Emma was about to make a wish, the water beside her opened up as something emerged. The scream that started to bubble up from deep within her, as a hundred thoughts filled her mind on what unimaginable Never-beast this could be, was cut off by a voice she was not expecting to hear.

“Evening Swan!”

“Jesus Christ, Hook!” Emma gasped. Thank god she was in shoulder deep water. “Wait, did you… were you watching when I… you know,” she asked while motioning toward her body.

“Did I what?” Hook asked, genuine confusion furrowing his brow.

“Did you see me undressing?”

“You wound me, Swan… I would never!”

“Oh, tonight you’re the gentleman?”

“I told you, I am always a gentleman,” he claimed in a rich tone as he took a step closer to her. “Spying on a lady as she undresses would be unthinkably bad form.”

“Then where the hell were you?” 

“I was underwater.”

“For the whole time?” she asked disbelievingly. 

“Aye. I’m a pirate, love, when you live a life on the water, it’s best you be able to hold your breath for longer than the average landlubber. Never know when you might find yourself keelhauled.”

“Landlubber,” Emma scoffed, “I can hold my breath just fine.” 

“I’ve no doubt you can, just not as long as meself,” he smirked.

Emma narrowed her eyes at the challenge in his tone. What was it about this man that had her wanting to comply with his every whim? She’d held her breath for as long as she could when she dove into the water, if he’d been under from the time she’d stripped until he popped up to interrupt her wish, that had to be like two full minutes? No way, she thought, he must have come up for air while she was under.

“Bet I can,” she challenged back.

“Is that so?” Hook asked, crowding her a little more, eyebrow cocked in interest. “And just what are the terms of this bet?”

If ever asked under oath, Emma would swear his eyebrows spoke a language all their own. “If I win, I get the Captain’s quarters,” Emma replied, crossing her arms over her chest smugly - as if she’d already won.

“I told you before, Swan, you and the lad should have my quarters.”

“I don’t want it given to me, I want to take it from you.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “such a stubborn lass. And if I win?”

“You tell me,” Emma said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Hmmmm,” he hummed, as the tip of his tongue swept along his bottom lip. “How about…” he continued, tapping his pointer finger to his lips.

Emma leaned toward him with anticipation as he pondered the terms to set. 

“I get to ask you any question I want.”

“Seriously?” Emma sputtered, head tilting to the side, it was rhetorical at best, not an actual question. “You’re taking this gentleman schtick a little over the top. I thought you’d want me to flash my tits or another kiss?”

“I told you, love, I am always a gentleman, and as such, I would never want to take a kiss from you in victory, I want it given to me, willingly. I want you to want it as much as I do.”

Emma blushed as he spoke, damn him for being a chivalrous pirate. “Whatever,” Emma muttered, “I’m winning this bet anyway.”

“So, we have an accord?” he questioned, holding out his hand for her to shake.

“Deal,” Emma said, shaking his hand. “How will we know no one cheated?”

“I do have a code, Swan,” Hook scoffed, “pillaging and plundering, yes; swashbuckling, yes; swindling beautiful maidens, never.” He held his hand over his heart as if he were making a pledge. 

Emma smiled at the actual drama queen standing before her, laughing lightly, it felt good. “Okay, so how are we doing this thing?” Hook held up his hand like he was about to take an actual oath, and Emma was half inclined to high-five him, though she was sure that was not his intent. 

“Take my hand then,” he prompted, nodding his head toward his hand. Once her fingers were laced with his, he explained that he would count to three and they’d both submerge to the bottom, first one up was the loser, and the winner would know, because the loser would release the winner’s hand to reach the surface for air. 

On three they submerged, and Emma could not see a thing. Hook was inches from her, and the only indication was his hand in hers. Feeling the comfort of his grasp in the eerily dark abyss, she pondered over the fact that she’d interlocked their fingers, instead of just holding hands palm in palm. She really needed off this island, she couldn’t be falling for him. Life was too hard for a relationship. Or was it really too hard, the rarely heard from, softer side of Emma Swan’s mind butted in. It could be so easy, this voice told her. 

When Hook had told her that he would win her heart without any trickery, Emma’s heart had beat a little stronger just for him, she’d wanted to pull him into her arms to make out right there. Alas, there had still been the issue of her beloved child to save.

Would it really be so bad to let Hook try to win her heart though? He truly was a gentleman, a pirate scoundrel sometimes too, but it was part of his charm. Plus, her lie detector said that everything he’d told her regarding how he felt about her, about what the kiss exposed, it was all true.

Emma’s mind wandered back to Storybrooke, to what it might be like to have someone who understood her, someone who was like her, to spend time with. The squeeze he gave her hand at that moment had her picturing what it might be like to walk through town with him, hand in hand. Was that even something she could still do, be that vulnerable, for the world to see her care for a man? She’d been on her own for so long, independent; free from any man who could hold her heart with the possibility of crushing it. 

Suddenly she felt dizzy, head spinning and heart pounding loudly in her ears. Had she held her breath too long, or were her outlandish imaginings too much for her stoic heart? Releasing Hook’s hand, Emma rose to the surface and gulped in the air. Pushing water and hair from her face, she panted deeply. She wondered how long they’d been down there already as Hook continued his underwater mission. Leave it to him to not only win, but really show her up. 

A full minute later, Emma began to worry. Unless she’d been down there an inordinately short amount of time, he’d been under for at least two and a half minutes. Was that even possible? Had he passed out in his endeavor to “best her”? She started to actually worry for his health when another thirty seconds passed. 

“Goddammit Hook, where are you?” she muttered.

“Miss me, love?” 

“Oh, goddammit!” she yelled as she flailed so hard, she was pretty sure she’d just flashed her breasts unwittingly. The bastard wasn’t even out of breath when he popped up right in front of her. “Stop doing that,” she laughed as she pushed his chest. “Why’d you stay down so long, you big showoff?” 

“On the contrary, I could feel you thinking down there, the amount of body language just in your hand told me you were contemplating some things. I merely wished to give you enough time to escape, should this game have become too much for you.”

“Escape?” she scoffed.

“Now, now, Swan - we both know of your affinity to run,” he said lightly, no accusations or contempt in his voice.

“Says the pirate who sailed away when asked to be a part of something,” Emma retorted. 

“I came back, didn’t I?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow. “You, on the other hand, left me to be eaten by a giant atop that beanstalk.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughed. “I made a deal with Anton to release you after ten hours, I just needed a head start, in case you…” Emma’s voice lowered to a whisper, not wanting to voice her early assumptions about his motives and intentions.

“In case I betrayed you,” Hook finished. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, looking straight into his eyes, imploring him to believe the sincerity of her words. Although she’d had her reasons at the time, it didn’t make her feel less terrible now. 

“Long forgiven, milady,” he whispered in turn. Then, in the next breath, he was back to the cocky pirate she knew. “Now, I do believe I won, and per our accord, you owe me the fee of one truth.”

“Congratulations,” Emma offered, extending her hand to shake, “you won, fair and square.” No trickery, she thought. Then she crossed her arms over her chest, which was still underwater, so it didn’t make her look menacing at all as she jutted out her chin and raised both eyebrows in a silent challenge to do his worst. 

“Why thank you, Swan. Hmmm, what shall I ask you?” he spoke, as if pondering his many choices. “There are truly so many things I wish to learn about you, I want to know everything, really.”

Emma’s eyebrows lowered as a shy smile crept over her face. It was stupid, she knew, but having this man before her, admit that he wants to know everything about her made her feel… cherished, adored, wanted. It was a foreign feeling after so many years of being alone. “Well, you only get one free question,” she said, trying to deflect the saccharine sweet feelings he was stirring within her.

"Pity, that, but I do remember the terms of our agreement. I do have one question picked out that I simply must know the answer to, before I endeavor to learn more. Fair warning, I may not have an Emma Swan internal lie detector,” he said as he leaned in closer to her, “but as I told you before, you are a bit of an open book, so I’ll know if you’re twisting the truth.” 

“I would never,” Emma objected dramatically, holding a hand over her heart as he had so often done when feigning injury to his pride.

“Good,” he replied, taking a step even closer. “Then tell me, love, when you said our kiss was a one time thing, did you mean it? And if you did mean it when you said it, do you feel the same now?”

 His close proximity was making her feel a little less confident than the facade she was putting on, but Emma didn’t break the heady eye contact he’d made, a beautiful shade of blue, looking into her, reading her. And how was the kohl that rimmed his eyes unaffected by the water? She might have to pillage some of that from him, it put her realm’s cosmetics to shame. God he was gorgeous as the moonlight shined down on them, she’d never noticed the hint of red to the scruff along his sharp jawline. “That’s two questions,” she murmured breathily as she thought of nibbling along that jawline. 

“Shall I rephrase?”

“Oh, the hell with it, I never meant it,” she confessed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her bare chest against his and kissing him soundly. 

As their lips collided hungrily, over and over, Emma was pretty sure she heard Hook mumbling thanks to the gods. She felt a little of that same relief, as she finally admitted that denying herself this thing that she wanted was ridiculous now that everyone was safe. Running her fingers through his thick hair, she gave it a little tug, angling his head so she could deepen the kiss. The groan he elicited was sinful and it kind of made Emma want to rub herself all over him. 

Instead she ran her other hand over his chest, deciding to take her time, she’d wanted to feel that chest hair since the first time she’d seen it proudly on display. It wasn’t quite what she expected since they were both wet and it was matted to his chest. She smirked when he jumped, his hand tightening involuntarily in her hair as she ran a thumb over his nipple. 

“A little sensitive, Captain?” she teased, looking up at him through her long lashes.

“Aye,” Hook chuckled, “‘s been awhile.”

It’d been a long dry spell for her as well. And it’d been even longer since feeling any true emotion when with a man. It had merely been scratching an itch for so long that she was a little scared what this all meant. The tingling, unadulterated want she felt in every nerve of her body far outweighed the fear though. “Touch me,” she whispered as she wrapped both arms around his waist.

 “Bloody Hell, you’ll be the death of me, woman,” he muttered as he kissed her once more. He wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her in close. Trailing a path from her mouth to her ear, he bit gently on her lobe, and it was his turn to smirk as a shiver ran through Emma’s entire body.  “Would you be opposed to taking this back on land?” 

“We just got clean, I don’t want sand in every crack and crevice,” she giggled while wrinkling her nose. 

“Aye, that would be less than optimal,” Hook agreed, “though the place I have in mind won’t get your nether regions sandy.”

“What’s wrong with right here, right now?” Emma challenged. She was pulled up short when Hook’s cheeks went pink and he scratched behind his ear as he did so often when he was feeling slightly unsure of himself. Truth be told, Emma found it cute, although she’d never tell him that, she doubted the fearsome pirate captain wanted cute to be correlated to his reputation. 

“It’s just, I’d rather…”

Brushing the hair from his forehead, Emma smoothed her thumb over the worry line that creased his brow.  “What’s wrong?” she asked. When he made no attempt to answer, Emma decided to employ his own tactics against him. “Try something new, Hook. It’s called trust.”

Emma internally cheered as one of Hook’s mega watt smiles overtook his face. The smile that showed those adorable (another word she was sure he would not want associated with him) dimples, and crinkled the corners of his eyes. 

“Touché lass,” he conceded, “I’d rather be able to have use of all my appendages.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, gazing very obviously in the direction of his most manly appendage. “Ummm, it felt like it was working just fine to me.” 

“Christ, Swan,” he chuckled, “I assure you, everything is ready, willing, and able in that department. I’d like my hook.”

Emma’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she thought, not for the first time, about what that hook would feel like against her heated skin. 

“It’s okay, love, if it repulses you, I can just wear the brace without the hook.” 

Emma shook her head, a frown downturning her brows and her lips, “Stop-”

“But I assure you,” Hook continued without letting Emma speak, “if the hook repulses you, the wound will surely-”

Emma’s hand over his mouth was more effective in shutting him up. “Stop it,” she demanded, “right now.” 

Hook was a little taken aback by being commanded by the fiery version of Emma, he’d seen her fiery side before, and he liked it, he liked every part of her. He wasn’t taken aback by her fire, rather he wasn’t used to being bossed around. He was the boss. But as he stood there, with her hand over his mouth, he realized he’d follow her orders any day. 

“Do you think I’m unaware that you don’t have a left hand?”

Hook shook his head in the negative, since her hand was still covering his mouth.

“Do you think I’m so shallow as to be repulsed by your hook or your brace or your wound?”

Hook took longer to answer this time, contemplating what he’d said and what she was asking. He supposed his words may have left room for misinterpretation. Slowly shaking his head no again, Emma removed her hand from his mouth.

“Good,” she stated simply, reaching for his left wrist before he even realized she'd made a move. 

His head spun when he felt Emma’s touch upon his scarred flesh and his knee-jerk reaction was to pull away from her grasp. He struggled to find the words through the haze. “It was not my intent to imply you are shallow, Emma. It is my own reticence.” 

“Trust me,” she whispered as she took his left wrist again. Wrapping both of her hands around his forearm and blunt wrist. Emma repeated the words comfortingly as she placed the arm he was so ashamed of between her breasts and held it there, where he could feel her heart beating. 

“Your hook, your brace, or just this,” she squeezed his wrist, “has no bearing on how I feel about you. I care about you, Hook.” Her voice sounded shaky, even in her own ears. “You came back for me, you helped save my son, you make me feel wanted, you make me feel good about being me.” Removing one hand from his damaged skin, Emma wrapped it around the back of his neck and pulled his forehead to hers before closing her eyes and continuing. “I’m not ready for this part, and I apologize, because that is my hang up.”

“Hang up?” he questions.

“A simpleton’s way of saying reticence,” she answers with a small smile before continuing. “I hate words, they make things real, and messy, and although I mean everything I’m saying, that’s all I can handle right now. Please just…” she inhaled sharply as she tried to articulate her plea to let this be enough. 

“I understand,” he whispered, voice just as shaky as Emma’s. He placed his hand on her cheek, lovingly caressing the softness of her lower lip. “And I do trust you, love.” He pecked her lips once before continuing. “I know you don’t like words, that much was clear from the start,” he said with a knowing smile and another peck to her lips, “but I’d like to respond, if you’re amenable?”

Emma nodded her head, eyes still closed, still reeling from her own confessions. 

Hook kissed her gently again before prodding her to open her eyes. “I want you to see the truth of my words.” 

Emma inhaled deeply, then opened her eyes to look at him. She bit her lip, a nervous habit from her teen years, as she waited for his words.

“I want to be the one to bite this lip,” Hook growled, as he used his thumb to massage her lip from her teeth.

“Truth,” Emma giggled despite herself, nodding to let him know her lie detector was working.

Hook waggled his eyebrows and smirked at her, before resuming his more resolute demeanor. “I have never felt more naturally drawn to a woman than I do with you. Your fire and passion brought my dormant heart back to life, and for the first time in decades upon decades, I want to be a better version of myself, a version that has been long forgotten, the old Killian Jones who was an honorable man, with good intentions, and hope in his heart, not revenge.”

“You may have lost your way for a time, but you’re still an honorable man, Killian.”

“Gods above,” Hook murmured as he wrapped both arms around Emma and pulled her into nothing more than a loving embrace. He was in love with her, but now was not the time. Emma would undoubtedly run if any grand declarations were made. He hadn’t felt this vulnerable maybe ever and he longed to hear her call him by his given name again. 

“Emma? Hook?! What the hell?”

Emma froze in Hook’s embrace as the familiar, and annoying, and currently very judgmental voice sounded from the shore.

“Bollocks,” Hook cursed. “How shall we handle this, darling?”

“Can we just pretend he’s not there,” she deadpanned, face still buried in her neck, trying to keep reality at bay.

“Somehow I doubt that will work, but you are The Savior, you could give it a go.”

Emma sighed deeply before turning around in Hook’s arms, her back to his chest, so she could face their interloper. She placed her hands over his hand and wrist where they were wrapped around her waist. It was still dark as she faced Neal, so hopefully he wouldn’t see the eyeroll she’d just given him when she saw this silhouette of his hands on his hips like some outraged father. 

“Good morning, Neal,” she called to the shore cheerfully. “I must have lost track of time, I didn’t realize it was already your shift for bathing.”

“It’s not,” he muttered, “it’s still the middle- not the fucking point,” he interrupted himself. “It’s not your shift either, what the hell are you doing out here?”

As much as Emma wanted to tell Neal that she and Hook were doing exactly what he assumed they were doing, she abstained.  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she snapped. 

“It is my business,” he snarled back, “we’re supposed to be here for Henry.”

“Don’t you dare!” Emma started, voice rising with rightfully earned indignation. “We came here to save Henry who is now safe and sound aboard the Jolly, but the reason we are here is because your deranged fiancée dragged him through a portal to sacrifice him to a madman.” 

“So you’re just going to throw away any chance of rekindling what we had, of being a family with Henry; so you can get laid by a dirty pirate.”

Emma pulled Hook’s arms around her tighter, keeping him anchored to her when she felt him start to pull away. She didn’t need these two getting into it again. 

“Oi! I bathe quite frequently, mate,” Hook quipped. “I was doing so when Swan and I happened upon each other.”

“Shut up, Hook,” Neal retorted.

“The one good thing that came from us, was Henry, but our relationship is long over. There is nothing to rekindle,” Emma sighed. She didn’t want to be mean, but she needed Neal to understand that she wanted nothing to do with him romantically. And she was not going to be lectured by the man who’d already blown up her life once. “Maybe one day, you and I can be friends for Henry’s sake, but that is the most we will ever be.”

“Ems, you don’t mean that. You’re under his thrall, it’s not real.”

Emma completely ignored the bait, choosing instead to stop this exchange in its tracks. “Hook and I are kind of busy,” she said with a lighthearted tone, while turning back around to face Hook. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she called over her shoulder, ”If there’s nothing else, we’ll see you later.”

“You mark my words Emma, when he abandons you after taking what he wants, you’re going to look back and regret this moment.”

“He’s stuck around through more shit than you ever did,” she called back, looking straight into Hook’s eyes.

Properly dismissed, Neal stormed off, muttering curses the whole way.

Emma dropped her head to Hook’s chest, exhaling with relief. “That felt good,” she said. 

“Well done, lass, though I’ve yet to see you fail, so I am not surprised Baelfire is no match for you. But perhaps we should make our way back as well,” Hook suggested. “I do believe he will be stirring the pot, come morning. You may want to be there to head off the storm.”

“I don’t care if he goes back to tell everyone, it’s not like it’s a lie, and at least this way, they will know we’re safe, and not missing. With any luck, we’ll be left alone for a bit,” she purred.

“Are you sure your parents will approve of you spending time with a dirty, one-handed pirate with a drinking problem?”

Emma’s head jerked up and she eyed him scrutinously. “First, you need to get Pan and Neal out of your head. Second, the only person who gets to decide who I spend my time with, or how I spend it, is me. And third, how do you know I don’t want you to be dirty,” she teased as she took command of his mouth with her own. 

Not giving him a chance to think further, Emma quickly kissed him again. She slid her tongue past his lips, rolling it against Hook’s, who was quick to reciprocate. She wrapped her lips around his tongue and sucked on it, eliciting one of the sexiest noises she’d ever heard. It was half growling and half begging for more. The buoyancy helped him to easily lift her and she instinctively surrounded his body with her legs.

Hook broke the kiss, in favor of exploration. His hot mouth trailed down Emma’s neck, licking here and nibbling there, never too rough, he didn’t wish to mark her, at least not where it would be visible. He palmed one of her breasts with his hand while running his thumb over her already pebbled peak. “Gods you are perfect,” he murmured before taking her other breast in his mouth and alternating between gently suckling and the graze of his teeth. 

Emma moaned softly in pleasure and torment as Hook worked her up, her clit throbbed and she longed to feel his hand or his mouth between her legs. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she pulled his head back and gazed into his eyes, want and desire evident in her pupils which were blown wide and the way her tongue licked salaciously over her bottom lip before she bit down on it. 

She unwrapped her legs from around Hook’s torso, in favor of standing again. Sliding her hands down his back, she squeezed his ass cheeks before pressing her body against his. “I want you,” she whispered when she felt his hardness against her stomach. Emma reached between them to wrap her hand around his thick length.

“Swan,” Hook choked out, pulling her hand gently away from his overly eager cock. “I really don’t want this to be over before it starts.”

Emma smiled knowingly, the very thought of making him come early amping up her need. “Okay, you lead,” she agreed.

“Come with me.” Hook led her toward the far end of the pond, which was actually far larger than she’d realized. They rounded a large looming rock which cloaked the entrance to a small cave by the shore.

“You just know all the secret spots, don’t you?”

“I discovered many hiding spots over the years I spent on this cursed island,” Hook acknowledged. “I usually walk to this side of the water’s edge to deposit all my belongings before bathing. One can never be too safe with the keeping of his hook.” Extending his hand to Emma, he led her out of the water and into the shelter. 

They entered far enough to have a little privacy, but not so far as to be pitched in blackness. Hook pulled her over to a natural, rock-formed shelf. “Do you want a towel, milady? Perhaps my shirt?”

“I want you,” Emma growled, yanking on his hand and pulling him flush against her body and attacking his mouth again.

“Mmmm, as you wish,” he uttered between ardent kisses. 

Emma whined when he broke away from her again, “Hook!”

“Patience, darling,” he teased. Then he quickly grabbed his jacket and his towel, laying first the jacket down on the cave floor, followed by the towel. “So you don’t get sand in every crack and crevice,” he advised with a mock bow. 

Emma laughed at his naked bow before tackling him to the makeshift bed and straddling his hips. She wove the fingers of her left hand with his right, and wrapped her other hand around his wrist before pinning them above his head. 

She didn’t miss the way he jumped when she embraced his wrist, a fleeting look of helplessness crossing over his face. She kissed him softly, tenderly, wanting to calm his nerves about his perceived flaw. When she felt his body relax against hers, she started to trail kisses across the line of his jaw before veering back up to his ear. “Has anyone ever told you, you are beyond gorgeous?” she whispered before sucking his earlobe into her mouth.

“I tell myself this all the time, but it does sound much lovelier on your luscious lips.”

“These lips?” Emma asked, sitting up just slightly and running her tongue along her bottom lip.

“Aye, the very ones,” Hook struggled to get out of her hold, as he tried leaning up to taste her lips.

Emma kept a firm hold on him though, enjoying this little bit of control. She could feel his cock against her ass, hard for her, twitching each time she nibbled and sucked at his skin. She continued to trail kisses downward, along his neck, across his pecs. His hips thrusted upwards when she bit down on his nipple and flicked her tongue over the sensitive flesh. “Patience,” she mimicked his earlier command. 

Hook’s melodramatic exhale made her giggle as she scooted further down his body, gently rubbing her wet core along his cock. “Bloody hell!” Hook cursed while deftly flipping them over.

“Don’t you want to see what else these luscious lips can do?” she asked with a wicked grin. 

“Gods above, I do. But I swear you will unman me the moment you wrap your lips around me.”

Emma smirked at him, eyes alight with lust.

“You little minx, you like that idea don’t you?” 

“Maybe,” she admitted, a confession really, despite the ambiguity of the answer. She’d already resumed stroking him.

“Fuck,” Hook hissed at her touch. He was torn between his ego needing to pleasure her first and his baser instincts demanding he let her do her worst. 

Emma watched Hook, saw him struggle with the decision, his eyes squeezing shut when she ran her thumb over his tip. Without waiting for his answer, Emma rolled them back over and licked from his base to his tip before sucking the head of his cock into her mouth while continuing to pump him.

  Her clit ached as she reveled in the wrecked expression on his face, Hook was watching her every move, lip pinned between his teeth as he struggled to hold out. She knew he was close when his hand balled into a white knuckled fist on his stomach and she gently cupped his balls to massage them. The sound that left his mouth was positively feral as he came hard, warm and wet in her mouth.

She savored the moment, he hadn’t lasted long, and she’d been the one to do that to him. But that was all she had, a fleeting moment before she was being rolled to her back. 

Hook held her in his blunted arm and dove in for a kiss, not caring at all that his taste was still on her tongue. He smiled against her lips when he felt her spreading her legs beneath him. “Eager, are we?” he asked between kisses.

“Don’t tease,” she panted into his mouth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hook slowly caressed his hand down her neck, stopping to play with her breasts for just a moment before continuing down to where he knew she was desperate to be touched. He parted her lips with two fingers and slid his middle finger into the warm wetness waiting for him. “Gods, Swan, you’re soaked.” His cock was already coming back to life as he thought about sliding into her wet heat.

Emma’s eyes rolled shut as Hook massaged her clit with her slippery wetness and any response she could’ve made was forgotten. Her mouth parted with an involuntary whimper when he switched it up, suddenly, but oh so easily slipping two fingers deep inside her. She contracted around his fingers, then pushed down, welcoming the penetration. 

Hook fucked her with his fingers, circling his thumb over her clit, while watching her cheeks flush pink and her breasts bounce as she rode his hand. Longing to taste her, he repositioned himself between her legs, chuckling at her whine of protest when he had to stop for a moment. 

“Oh fuck,” she panted when he resumed loving her clit, this time with his tongue. He alternated between licks and flicks and sucking. Emma’s head spun dizzily, she’d experienced oral sex, but apparently she had never experienced mind blowing oral sex. She threaded both hands into his hair and tried desperately not to be too rough. “Oh my god, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

Hook chose that moment to thrust his fingers back inside her and Emma was gone, she came harder than she ever had, warm and tingly and wet as Hook continued to thrust his fingers into her and suck on her clit. She saw stars or dots or something behind her eyelids and there was a rush of waves nearby, or maybe that was just the adrenaline coursing in her ears. The little aftershocks pulsing and throbbing in her clit were heavenly and oh my god, that was fucking amazing, she thought.

“Get up here,” she purred, pulling on his hair.

“It seems someone was just as primed as I was,” Hook smirked as he slid back up the length of her body.

Emma silenced his smugness by wrapping her legs around waist and flipping him to his back. The rush of air that left Hook’s chest made her chuckle as she placed her hands on his cheeks and whispered to him between kisses. “Well, you’re very, very skilled,” she praised.

“You set the bar very high, love.”

Emma beamed at his compliment, her cheeks warming. She wasn’t sure what it was about this man that made her feel unlike she’d ever felt with another man. Like she was special and desired, it made her feel sexually free in a way she never had. Sitting astride Hook’s solid body, she caressed her hands along his chest, exploring his now dry chest hair, it was just as thick and glorious as she’d imagined. 

Emma could see the scars littering his flesh and she’d felt more when they’d been in the water and her hands had explored the expanse of his back. She wondered how rough his life had been to have this many physical scars. Her heart constricted a bit at that thought, especially already knowing he had just as many emotional scars as she did. She was both taken aback and a little frightened when she realized she wanted to know so much more about Hook. Maybe it was time to stop running from good things, Emma thought, her mind once again weighing the pros and cons of a relationship. Her train of thought was lewdly interrupted by a thrust of Hook’s hips, his hardness tapping at her back.

“Ready so soon, pirate,” she said in a husky tone while rising up on her knees and guiding him to her core. She ran the tip of his cock through her wet folds, both of them moaning with unadulterated lust. 

“Fuck yes,” he growled, thrusting his hips upward again. 

Emma cried out as his tip slipped inside her, a wave of arousal pooling and her belly tightening with want. She slid down his generous length, slowly savoring the drag against her slippery walls. She planted both hands on his chest and stilled her movements when he was fully seated, adjusting to his size. 

“You alright, love?” Hook asked, squeezing her hip gently while he circled his thumb over her hip bone.

She nodded her head and opened her eyes, which she didn’t realize she’d shut, to gaze down at the gorgeous man below her. “You feel good,” she praised, lifting her hips and sinking back down on to him. Emma set a languid pace, delighting in the sensation of fucking, the drag along her walls, angling herself so he hit that spot.

“That’s it, lass, take what you want,” Hook encouraged as Emma rode him; slowly at first, then building in pace as her cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat broke out across her forehead. He wished, not for the first time tonight, to be able to touch her with two hands. He encouraged her to touch her breasts as he changed course to play with her clit. 

Emma’s thighs began to burn as she worked to bring them both to that sweet edge of release, and the delicious friction between them built higher and higher. She palmed her breasts, tweaking her nipples and watched as Hook thumbed her clit in time with her thrusts. His hooded eyes roamed her body, and he bit down on his lip as he watched his cock disappear inside her heat over and over. She liked watching him watch her and the small grunts he gave each time she impaled herself and ground against him were hot. Emma found herself at the edge of bliss again and she whimpered as Hook began thrusting up into her.

Hook was having a hard time controlling his ardor, he wanted to flip them and plunge deeply into her. She was a vision, flushed pink, sweaty, breasts bouncing as she rode him to the edge. And then he heard her...

“Come with me, Killian,” she panted.

...and he was undone. The plea in her tone as she said his name and the massage of her walls against his cock as she began to come, ended him. He came hard and hot with a cry of her name, filling her with his seed until it began to spill as she continued to ride him through both of their releases. 

As euphoria traveled throughout her body, Emma slumped into Hook’s body. She’d never felt so gratified as her entire being thrummed with bliss. Hook turned them to their sides and kissed her fervently. Wrapping both her arms around him, Emma gave as good as she got, their tongues and lips engaging lovingly. She lost track of all time as they lay together, parting only when they needed breath. “That was-”

Hook covered her mouth much as she had covered his earlier. “Don’t,” he whispered with a pleading look in his eyes.

Emma wrapped her fingers around his palm and removed his hand, giggling quietly. “I didn’t mean it the first time, and I damn sure wouldn’t mean it this time,” she assured him, noting how his shoulders sagged in relief. “I was going to say that was amazing… brilliant,” she murmured into his ear. 

Hook chuckled, remembering the time he’d said those words to her. “Aye, Swan, we still make quite the team.”

Emma could only smile at the seamless harmony that flowed between them. And she kissed him once more before snuggling into him. 

As a sated exhaustion made itself known in her body, Emma rejoiced that it was still dark outside of the cave. A vigorous yawn and stretch wracked her body, and Killian chuckled lightly again.

“Did I wear you out?” 

Emma laughed as the same yawn tore through Hook, no sooner had he spoken his teasing words. “I think we wore each other out,” she snickered. 

“Aye lass, I believe you’re right. How about we get washed up and head back to the Jolly? I’ll give you the captain’s quarters, even though you lost.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Brag much?”

“What is the fun in winning a wager if I cannot gloat?”

“Such a pirate,” she muttered before rolling him to his back again. “How about we share the captain’s quarters?”

“Deal,” Hook accepted without hesitation. 

A half hour later, they were standing in the cave, bathed, and mostly dressed, Hook had gone to get Emma’s clothes for her from the opposite shoreline. 

“Shall we?” Hook asked, offering Emma his hand. He frowned when she made no attempt to move.

“I’d rather…” she started, a blush coloring her cheeks.

“Ah, I understand,” Hook said, quickly understanding. “Shall we head back in separate directions? Or perhaps, I’ll just stay here for a bit and come back later in the morning.”

Emma rolled her eyes again, this time with a bit of frustration, as she placed her hands on her hips. “That is not what I was going to say.”

Hook raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for her to explain.

“Has nothing I’ve said tonight gotten through to you? Or did that mind blowing sex make you forget?” She took his heavier than expected leather duster from where he had it draped over his arm and turned around to lay it out on the cave floor. 

Turning to face Hook again, she cupped his face in both hands. “Let’s recap, I like how you make me feel, I’m not worried about everyone finding out, best oral ever, sensational sex, no running away. I fancy you, Killian.” Emma finished her statement with a gentle kiss.

The gobsmacked look on Hook’s face made her laugh out loud. “I was going to say I’d rather spend the rest of the night here with you. We already know everyone else will know we’re safe. Even if Neal doesn’t outright blab; if Mary Margaret and David start to worry, he won’t hesitate to spill what he knows.” 

“You fancy me, love?”

Despite heavily stroking his ego by admitting he was the best she’d ever been with, it figured the part he’d pick up on was the closest she’d get to any kind of outright confession of feelings. Emma smacked her hand to her forehead. “Yes, Killian, I fancy you. Don’t get all cocky about it.”

“On my honor, I’ll not get cocky,” he promised before leaning in to kiss her, “as I quite fancy you as well. But you already know that.”  

Laying down on his jacket, the two snuggled together, Emma in panties and Hook’s shirt and Hook in his birthday suit.

“You needed to get naked again to go to sleep?” Emma asked with a little sarcasm in her tone.

“I’ll have you know that style and comfort do not go hand in hand, Swan. Those leathers, though appealing to the eye, do not make for great sleep clothes. Besides, all pirate’s know the only way to sleep when there’s a lovely lass in his bed, is in the nude. You know… easy access.”

“Why am I not surprised by that, Killian?”

“I’ll never tire of hearing you call me that,” he answered. 

“Killian,” she whispered.

“Aye, love?”

“Nothing, I just wanted you to hear me say it again.”

A boyish smile broke out over Killian’s face as he pulled her in tighter to his side. “Good night, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

The End

Tagging some lovely shipmates - please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged - or if you’re reading and want me to tag you. 

@laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @hookedonapirate @wordsmith-storyweaver @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @wyntereyez @hooklineandswan @teamhook @let-it-raines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard  @tiganasummertree@apromisednightcap  @xemmaloveskillianx @elizabeethan @cocohook38 @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @timeless-love-story @girl-in-a-tiny-box @thesschesthair @galadriel26 @ultraluckycatnd @lifeinahole27 @therooksshiningknight @kday426 @djlbg @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @delightfully-difficult-pirate @thejollyswan @csalltheway @xarandomdreamx @vvbooklady1256 @withheartfulloflove @resident-of-storybrooke @mcakers @gingerchangeling @searchingwardrobes​

[vixenpen]

Neighbors (Bakugo x Miku x Hawks)

Pt. 13 Inhale/Exhale

The weight of a hand on her knee brought Miku back to reality.

“You alright, kid?“ Hawks asked, softly.

She nodded, gazing unseeingly at the passing buildings as the car shuttled them to her apartment.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how I let my love for Katsuki shape the last four years of my life. I mean, I built my entire career singing about being an independent woman and a free spirit, yet I spent the last four years behind the scenes being Katsuki’s kept woman. My apartment, my car, hell even my management was filtered through him. Shit, no fucking wonder he constantly tried it with me, I made him feel like the fucking king of my world.”

“That doesn’t make anything he did to you right.” Hawks insisted. Miku shrugged, blinking away the sting in her eyes. “Miku, look at me,” he commanded, nudging her leg. With a sigh, she turned her misty eyes to his own. “If you’re not up to this—“

“No,” she shook her head, “I have to do this sooner rather than later.” She eyed him thoughtfully, quiet for a while. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Angel, I’m not letting you walk into a lion’s den with no support,” a smile settled on his face. “I want to be here.”

Miku let out a sad little chuckle. “I feel like I’m constantly keeping you from doing your real job lately.”

“I’ve been doing my job for over fifteen years, Angel,” Hawks scoffed. “I can afford to take one month to myself.”

“Well,” Miku slumped against his shoulder with a sigh, “you’re definitely my hero right now.”

The blonde smiled, wrapping her up in his wing. “That’s good enough for me.”

The driver pulled them around the back entrance. They rushed through the back door and took the elevator to Miku’s floor.

“I don’t need much,” she told Hawks as she let them into her apartment. “Just a few...”

The couple paused as a familiar pair of crimson eyes landed on them.

When he turned his gaze to Hawks, he scowled, hands crackling with sparks.

“Get out,” Bakugo growled, glare fixed on the man, “now.”

“After you, asshole.” Hawks shot back. His wings flared, and his amber eyes glared right back.

“My name is on the lease, you son of a bitch!” Bakugo took another step forward. Hawks matched him. “The only person that shouldn’t be here is you!”

“Unlike you, Miku actually wants me here bitch-“

“GUYS, please!” Miku intervened, stepping between the two men. She held out her hands.

The men backed down, still glaring at each other over the woman’s head.

“Katsuki, I don’t want any trouble with you,” Miku sighed, “I just want to get of my things and go.”

“Dove, we need to talk.” He said, voice softening.

His tone and the familiar nickname made Miku’s lip tremble. She felt Hawks behind her, giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

“You really think she wants to talk to you after the shit you pulled?” Hawks leveled at Bakugo, in a hard voice. “I’ll leave your apartment, but only if you let her get her stuff in peace.”

“Look, asswipe,” Bakugo shot back, looking ready to spit fire, “this is between me and Miku,”

“Yes it is,” Hawks fired back, “and when she’s ready, she’ll let you know. Until then, she told you she wasn’t looking for trouble-“

“Keigo,” Miku cut in again, this time grabbing the man’s hands and turning to face him. Her eyes gaze found his. “It’s ok.” She whispered.

His bushy brows lifted in surprise and he frowned down at her.

“But-“ His eyes flicked between Miku’s uneasy, but determined expression and Bakugo’s glowering stare.

He found Miku’s eyes again.

“Alright,” he nodded, “I’ll be right outside.”

With one last warning glare to her ex, the man left the apartment, and the ex lovers were faced with one another for the first time in nearly a week.

Miku’s wings hugged in on her, it took a lot to hold her ex boyfriend’s gaze. She kept envisioning him wrapped in Kirishima’s arms. On the bed they’d shared just one night before.

After a pregnant silence, Bakugo finally spoke up.

“Are you fucking him?”

“Really,” Miku scoffed. “That’s the first thing you have to say to me? So what if I fuckin’ am? At least you didn’t catch me in bed with him.”

The blonde sighed, and his entire being went slack. He ran his hands through his spiked pale blonde hair.

“Ok, fine. You’re fucking right, ok?”

Miku quirked a brow, folding her arms.

“Miku, you have every right to be mad at me after what I did to you, but I just need you to understand that it wasn’t because of you. It wasn’t anything you did.”

Miku remained silent.

“The thing is, regardless of what you might think, I still love you.”

Her heart stalled.

“But I love Kirishima too. I fell for Eijirou—hell, when we were just kids and that feeling never went away. No matter how far he went away from me.”

He took a step forward, and Miku stepped back on shaky legs. Bakugo must have realized her unease because he paused mid-step, and let his arms fall limp to his sides.

“I didn’t sleep with him because I didn’t love you. I love you both I just-I should have...I wanted to explain it sooner, but-“

“Are you stumbling over your words because you realize how stupid they sound?” Miku cut him off, impatiently.

Bakugo looked half way offended. “It might sound stupid, but it’s true! I loved you both I wanted you two equally-“

“Ohhh,” Miku’s eyes widened as realization dawned on her. “Oh,” she breathed quietly. “You wanted us both equally...that’s what it was coming down to wasn’t it? Yet another threesome? Or maybe a poly relationship?”

Her exes mouth snapped shut, brows knitting together.

Suddenly, the pounding of Miku’s heart slowed. The pieces settled into place.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Why am I never enough for you?” Miku chuckled almost in disbelief. She wasn’t sure if it was towards him or herself. “I was never going to be enough for you was I?”

“Miku, it’s not about that—“

“Oh, I know!” She interjected, her voice rising to a harsh pitch, “it’s about you and how nothing is ever good enough for the great Bakugo Katsuki. Not your rank on the billboard charts, not your agency, not your relationship. Unless everything and everyone lines up exactly the way you want them to, you aren’t satisfied.”

“Miku, that’s not fair. I—“

“Fair?!” She barked out a disbelieving laugh. “You wanna talk about fair?! Let’s talk about me walking in on you fucking another person in the bed we shared JUST ONE NIGHT BEFORE! Let’s talk about how FAIR that was! Or how about the first and only time I let you talk me into a threesome?! Huh!”

He stepped back, Miku hardly realize that she had begun advancing towards him until he started moving away from her. Her feathers stood on end with her frayed nerves, whipping up the air around them.

“Let’s talk about how you agreed that there would be no sex unless all parties were engaged together. Then when I come back from the bathroom you’re deep dicking our third party like the key to becoming the number one hero is in that bitch’s abdomen! So if you wanna talk about what’s not fair? You got the right mother fuckin’ one!”

Her hands shook with unbridled anger, her body needed to move. She needed to vent with every part of herself.

“I was never going to be enough for you because nothing is ever going to be enough for you!” She seethed, stormy eyes looking him up and down, and she felt like she was finally seeing Bakugo Katsuki for the first time. “Not your rank, not your agency, not your relationships, and if I hadn’t caught Kirishima fucking you, I would almost say a prayer for him. Because he’s not going to be enough for you either, but since the two of you are cut from the same lying, scheming, manipulative ass cloth; you and him both can book a honey moon suite in hell; because you mother fuckas belong together.”

With that final verbal assault, Miku spun on her heel and stormed into the hallway.

A wide eyed Hawks waited on the other side along with several bystanders and neighbors who had come out of their rooms to observe the show.

“Um,” The avian spoke up hesitantly, “you good, Angel?”

“Fuckin’ peachy. Let’s go.”

Miku marched passed the gawking eyes of her old neighbors, Hawks hot on her tail.

The cool air hitting her face as she shoved her way out the door felt refreshing. The driver waiting at the car they’d left at the curb, held the door open for them.

Once she was settled against the leather seats, Miku unleashed a breath along with all of the tension she’d built verbally tearing into her ex.

Hawks gazed at her.

“Damn, Angel,” he chuckled, “after that, I think you’re my hero.”

His laughter was cut short by the woman’s lips finding his own.

The man’s eyes blew wide. His body automatically fell into the kiss with her, despite his mind screaming against the idea.

Hawks gripped Miku’s waist, pulling her tighter against his body. Fuck, she felt good...Fuck this was wrong...

“Angel,” Hawks pulled back, reluctantly, “are you sure?”

“Keigo,” Miku huffed, “I haven’t felt this sure about anything in two weeks. I’m horny and I want this, now shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

She didn’t give him a chance to answer before her lips smashed against his again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keigo couldn’t remember whining and whimpering so much in his entire life.

Miku’s pussy felt like it was choking the soul out of his dick. Every part of her body was angry and he loved it. He wanted to take every bit of the smothering, all encompassing, creamy pleasure strangling his cock, and bottle it for later.

“Ahh~ahhh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he sighed, forcing himself to keep his eyes open.

Shit she was a vision. Big breasts bouncing and ivory hair contrasting against her dark, glistening skin. Her white wings flared out—the feathers trembling.

“That’s it, Angel,” he wrapped his long fingers around her hips, one hand gripping her ass. His hips snapped up to dig deeper inside her.

Keigo’s eyes rolled. “Ride this dick, baby, let it out. Fucking ride it.”

Screams and moans and sighs fell from her mouth in the loveliest song he’d ever heard in his life.

Keigo grabbed the woman’s hand and pulled her curvy body against his hard chest, rolling his hips and deepening both of their pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” Miku mumbled, “please don’t stop~” she groaned.

“I won’t, Angel. Trust me.”

Keigo made a mental note to send Bakugo an anonymous “thank you for fucking up so royally” fruit bouquet. Because he was never getting this woman back.

(When I tell y’all I love these two)

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Part IV

A Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV

Requests are open if you have any oneshot ideas or opinions on how this should continue!

In their bedroom that night, Jens had a whole roll of parchment full of ideas. Robbe fell asleep first on the common room couch after Hufflepuff’s party, and meandered to his room at three AM to find Jens awaiting him on the windowsill. Aaron, conked out, had pulled the curtains of his four-poster shut and cast a few silencing charms for privacy.

“Muffliato,” Robbe cast under his breath, just in case. Aaron wasn’t the greatest at Charms.

“I was supposed to patrol tonight,” Robbe told Jens. “Did Jana go alone?”

Jens nodded. “She said you would’ve lost her anyway, whatever that means.”

“You’re talking again?”

“Uh, yeah, of course. Okay, here, look at this…” Jens smacked down his parchment on the little floor space they had in their bedroom. Each little segment of dormitory housed four boys with their beds in a circle around the heater in the middle. While Jens, Robbe, and Aaron didn’t have a fourth shoved in with them, the fourth bed’s curtains were also closed. Robbe assumed it was Moyo staying over after the party. Their copious belongings covered most available surfaces: books piled up next to bedspreads, clothing strewn over trunks, candy wrappers overflowing from trash bins.

“I think you have to dial it up,” Jens explained. He flattened the parchment until Robbe could kind of read his sloping cursive. The title at the top of the page was scribbled out, replaced with the words Operation Ditch-Noor. “Noor seems more persistent.”

Robbe thought back on their conversation. It made his head hurt to think. “She’s done.”

“Didn’t seem it today. How much did you drink?”

“I can read it,” said Robbe. He, in fact, could not read it. Why did Jens have to write everything in cursive?

The party itself had gone by pretty smoothly, from what he could piece together at the moment. Sander turned on music from his player, an upbeat song called Rebel Rebel, and had everyone spinning in circles on the common room carpet. Robbe didn’t remember kissing Sander at all. He remembered taking a cupful of punch from Aaron and not asking about its alcohol content. The girls left early to go console Zoë on the loss, and he’d woken up with a blanket that he didn’t have when he fell asleep.

Actually, that was a pretty solid outline considering the circumstances. Good on Robbe.

Jens gave Robbe a minute to puzzle through the spirals on the parchment. If he looked at it sideways, it might be a picture of a big black dog.

“Thoughts?” said Jens. He bumped Robbe’s shoulder with his own. Robbe looked around. When did they sit on the floor?

“Good,” he said.

“Good. It was a major oversight on your part, not having a public date in the first week. You’re going to have to compensate now.”

“What?”

Jens sighed. “Like, you have to be twice as convincing. Why am I even friends with you?”

“You’re so smart,” Robbe agreed.

“Is that Robbe?” said the fourth bed. It didn’t sound like Moyo. Moyo’s drunk voice was always deeper than his normal one, full of false bravado, while this one was much lighter. Sure enough, Sander peeked his head out from the curtains. His hair stuck up in all different directions.

Jens got up from the ground and smacked Sander’s arm as Sander tried to reach for Robbe. “You don’t have to trick us. Jeez.” He addressed Robbe again. “He’s been like this all night.”

Sander ignored him. “Come over here,” he said to Robbe. “I haven’t seen you.”

“You saw me,” Robbe said.

“Not a lot.”

“Yeah, so this is the kind of material we need.” Jens pointed at the parchment roll. “Noor’s going to leave you alone.”

“Come here, Robbe.”

Robbe sobered—while Sander didn’t exactly sound serious, there was something more in the way he said those words. What, Robbe couldn’t be sure. He was probably projecting, making the whole thing up.

Sander’s clothing was rumpled, a stain on the collar of his shirt. There were circles around his eyes as if he’d been rubbing them. His perfect hand was just begging to be held—the vision began to blur a little bit on the edges, and Robbe had to blink a few times to make the picture clear again.

This wasn’t real. He was drunk and it wasn’t real. Robbe was hallucinating or something, that’s what it was.

And he didn’t want to sleep with Sander, at least, not yet.

“I am going to be physically ill,” said Jens. “Save this.”

They left the parchment on the floor. Jens climbed into his bed, Robbe into his. Sander left the curtains open on bed four, staring over at where Robbe lay, so Robbe left his own curtains open. Gotta have that line of sight. He knew Sander was drunk as a skunk, but goodness, it felt wonderful to have his attention.

“Goodnight, love,” he called over.

Jens covered his head with a his pillow. "Kill me."

***

Sander was gone when Robbe got up the next day, and just as well, because it was one PM. Robbe’s head hurt like a motherfucker. Good news, though: he could now read the parchment Jens had tacked to the door of their dormitory. Not without pain, but without much struggle. In the bottom left-hand corner, an artsy signature marked that Sander understood the objectives. Sander Driesen. He dotted the i in his last name with a little circle instead of a plain dot.

Robbe speed-read the document to the best of his ability. And panicked. If Sander was following this, they had plans at five today.

He gathered his things and dashed to the shower, careful not to wake up anyone else who might still be sleeping. Aaron seemed to have gone out; his bed was empty. Jens wasn’t visible, and Robbe didn’t think it right to open the bedcurtains to see if he was there. The shower water was freezing cold. Robbe did a little warming spell he thought he remembered and ended up evaporating it all.

He took a very cold shower.

When that was done, he changed into a collared shirt with a sweater overtop and a pair of khaki pants. Casual date outfit, check. Fake date. Couldn’t forget that. He appraised his reflection in the mirror for too long to be considered normal.

There was plenty to do in the span between now and five o’clock—exams were three weeks away and Robbe didn’t know the main ingredients of Amortentia. But he couldn’t bring himself to open the books. It made much more sense to pace around the room.

Of course they’d go on a date. Real relationships would have dates.

And Sander—last night—it was nothing.

Robbe spent a lot of his mental energy convincing himself that things didn’t matter. He spent a little more trying to forget this revelation.

Four forty-five arrived before he could list out all the possible ways a date could go wrong.

The castle was always louder on Saturday afternoons and evenings. With the morning’s hangover remedied, students were free to gossip as they pleased. As Robbe headed down the stairs to the dungeons, where Jens’ note detailed he would meet Sander, he heard no less than four separate conversations that should have been private. Two Gryffindors were having a Wrackspurt problem in their dormitory. Several Slytherins discussed a magical cure for gonorrhea that would not alert Madame Pomfrey to their situation. Yasmina and Zoë attended extra Potions sessions together, and Robbe heard them debating the proper way to skin a human arm for use. Most of interest: Britt and another girl in the final hallway.

“Sander doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Britt lamented. “I don’t think he’s been going to the hospital wing.”

“You don’t know that,” the girl replied, resting a comforting hand on Britt’s back.

Robbe tried to shrink back on himself as he walked by.

Britt wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “And I’m the one that’s gonna be there when it goes to shit.”

Give it up, thought Robbe. He booked it the rest of the way to the Slytherin common room’s entrance.

Sander was waiting beside the door, his back against the stonework. His look today was different than Robbe had ever seen it, a leather jacket and a t-shirt paired with tight black jeans. When he raised a hand to wave at Robbe, the shirt rode up enough to expose a line of pale skin. Robbe felt overdressed in his sweater. Sander shouldn’t think he was taking this too seriously.

“Where are we headed?” Sander asked, as soon as Robbe was within asking range.

Robbe’s eyes went wide. “I thought you were planning it.”

“I've been hungover.” Sander pushed away from the wall. He slipped his hand into Robbe’s, and they headed for the staircase that led out of the dungeons. Usually, only Slytherins used it. “I'm good with whatever. For Britt, obviously. Somewhere she'll see."

The staircase spit them out into the upstairs hallway. Sander brought them outside through the front doors and down into the sprawling lawn. He stopped once his feet hit the grass, and turned to Robbe. “Dealer’s choice.”

“Did Jens give instructions?”

“Jens doesn’t dictate your dating life.”

Robbe frowned. “My fake dating life.”

He hated Sander’s pained expression. “Yeah, exactly.”

Only one way to make Sander smile again, and that was to go somewhere nice. Robbe surveyed the campus. They couldn’t go to Hogsmede today unless they snuck there, and Sander wasn’t in subtle attire. There was the forest, all of those beautiful, towering trees, but there was a fifty percent chance of death if they got too close. The Whomping Willow ruled out a good chunk of grassy lawn. He knew their only option would be to sit by the lake.

Lots of couples sat by the lake. Any fake relationship should feature a date there. It got foot traffic, it was public, it screamed to the world hey, we’re together.

Robbe didn’t bring a blanket. What if he got cold?

What if Sander got cold?

The thought alone of Sander cuddled into his side was enough to drive Robbe to action. He wondered what that said about him as a person.

“The lake,” said Robbe. “We can—um—we can be there.”

“You have something to sit on?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, I counted on it.” Sander reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny square of fabric. With a wave of his wand, it grew into a full-sized picnic blanket in his arms. “Show me where you want to be.”

***

The early evening air, combined with the chill off the lake, had Robbe shivering in no time. He should have brought his coat out with him, but it wasn’t in the best shape, and he worried that mending spells could only keep it alive for so much longer. Best to save it for winter, when things got bad. Sander, on the other hand, had no problem removing his own jacket and sliding it around Robbe’s shoulders. He wrapped one bare arm around Robbe, sliding his hand into Robbe’s back pocket.

“This is nice,” he said.

“Cold,” said Robbe.

“I’ll tell Jens to plan the next one. He seems to like us as a couple.”

Something in Robbe’s stomach fluttered. The possibility of more intoxicated him. He caught himself before the desire became too strong; there had to be more. No convincing fake relationship was just one date.

Dusk crept in along the sky. Many of the other couples gathered their things to attend a Great Hall dinner, the likes of which Robbe had not consumed all week. He willed his stomach not to growl. Their blanket was close enough to the lake that casual waves poked at its edges.

“That’s your friend, isn’t it?” said Sander, pointing toward the castle’s open doors.

Robbe looked over. Zoë and Senne made their way across the lawn with their own picnic blanket and a lumpy knapsack. Behind them was Milan, Zoë’s best friend and Senne’s suitemate. Zoë smiled when she saw Robbe and jogged the remainder of the distance between them, dropping to the grass an inch away from Sander’s blanket.

“Look at you!” She pinched Robbe’s cheek. “Date night, I take it?”

Robbe tried not to look sheepish. “Jens said we should.”

“Mmhm,” said Zoë. She turned her attention to Sander. “Tell me the love story. I need to know.”

“Oh, it’s a great story. Settle in.” Sander adjusted his position. He scooted away from Robbe, then gently tipped backward until his head rested on Robbe’s lap. “Picture this. My ex brought her best friend on one of our dates because she was mad at me. We went to the Three Broomsticks.”

Robbe remembered the Three Broomsticks. Obviously. His cheeks heated. He began twisting sections of Sander’s hair around his fingers, if only to do something with his hands. He knew Zoë just wanted to hear what Sander could think up on the fly.

“Her best friend had a date, too. No problem. I was going to spend the time staring at the wall so I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Except, the date walked in, and it was Robbe here, and I just lost it. I saw him sitting there and I thought, Sander, he is the one.”

Now Robbe was really blushing. He wanted to go vaporous and phase through the ground, if he could just remember the spell…

“I thought I was being dramatic, that I needed to give it some time. But I couldn’t get him off my mind. So I broke up with Britt. She used to complain that he spent all his time up in the astronomy tower instead of patrolling. You bet your ass I went there one night to see if he’d come up. And he did.” Sander shrugged. “The rest is history.” He propped himself up and caught Robbe in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah, you can cut the bullshit.” Zoë turned to check Senne’s progress toward them. He was still a decent distance away. “Robbe told me about this.”

Sander huffed. “I said nothing that wasn’t true.” He kissed Robbe again.

“Yeah, pretty sure none of that was true. But I like the backstory. It’s really good.”

“I think I could make it as a writer,” said Sander.

Robbe assumed the conversation would end there. Zoë and Sander did not seem like the types of people who would have much to say to one another. Unfortunately, Zoë’s prying conversation gave Milan time to catch up.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, upon seeing Sander and Robbe together. He got in close to Zoë for a stage whisper. “So this is Robbe's straight guy!” Zoë shot him a look. “What? is he not straight?”

Sander did not miss a beat, even though a statement like that implied Milan knew the truth of the arrangement. “Bisexual, actually. Or pansexual—I’m still trying to figure that part out.”

“Aren’t we all,” said Milan knowingly. “Don’t fall for Robbe, then.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sander laughed. It sounded more resigned than joking. Something inside of Robbe combusted.

Milan and Senne went off and picked a spot a respectable distance away to study for their exams. Robbe noted in passing that Milan was reading pages much deeper in the Potions textbook than he had learned. He hadn’t been to a class since he started fake-dating Sander.

Zoë flashed an apologetic smile. “I didn’t tell him you were straight. Don’t know where he got that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Sander.

“And I didn’t mean to tell him the relationship was fake either, he was just so excited—”

“As long as it doesn’t get to Britt or Noor, we’re fine.”

“Robbe, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Robbe lied.

There were pleasantries afterward, although Robbe didn’t catch the specifics. He had other things to process. Sander talking about how they met—it all felt so real. Robbe found himself in a booth at the Three Broomsticks again, watching Sander take slow sips from his drink. He was in his four-poster bed while Sander slept, the curtains open so they could see each other in the dark.

He stepped on the emotion. Sander said he wouldn’t dream of falling in love with him.

Zoë went off to sit with her best friend and boyfriend, leaving space for Robbe and Sander’s date to begin. Where to begin? Number one: Sander would never fall in love with him because this was all fake. In tandem with Noor’s premonition last night, Robbe suddenly felt like he’d much rather be back inside the castle. In his bed. With the curtains pulled this time.

A headache could get him out of here. An urgent need to throw up? Maybe a mysterious summons from Jens. He needed to remember the charm that let him disappear.

Number two, back to Sander. He had wrapped his arms around his head, exposing that same patch of stomach. A line of black ink that might be a word traced the line of his hipbone down.

“Robbe?” Sander waved a hand in front of Robbe’s face.

Robbe blinked. “Huh?”

“Have you been hearing me?”

“Um,” said Robbe.

“You’re pulling my hair.”

Robbe moved his hands away. His mind was a mess of different thoughts—what would he tell the boys about this? It wasn’t fucking real. And Sander’s head was in his lap right now. He should have seen this coming before… no, he had seen this coming.

“Don’t stop,” said Sander softly. “Just… lighter.”

Robbe ran his hand through Sander’s hair. Lighter. A confession dangled on the tip of his tongue and he needed to push it back down.

“Some of what you said was true,” he said. He hoped Sander could draw the connection across conversations and realize he meant what Sander had said to Zoë, not Milan.

Sander understood. “Most of it was true.”

They waited a moment, listening to the soft waves on the lake and the bustle of other couples nearby.

“Right,” said Sander. “You’ve taken me on a date. The least you can do is tell me something nice.”

“What kind of thing?”

“Do you need Jens to write your speeches too?”

Robbe shied away from the vulnerability angle this time. Sander wouldn’t have any use for the information four weeks from now when exams were over. He marveled over how soft Sander’s hair was between his fingers, despite the fact that the ends were dry and dead from the bleach. “My father was the cook of the family,” he said. Something personal, but not intimate. “He had this recipe for blood sausage that had so many spices my mother could never stomach it. We would bring it to dinner parties when we didn’t like the people. It was funny to watch them try and compliment it during the meal when they clearly hated every last bite.” This was the story’s happier conclusion. Its actual conclusion was that his father took all the recipe cards when he walked out, and Robbe didn’t know the ingredients even though his father promised he’d get them when he turned sixteen.

“Tell me something nice.” He poked Sander.

“I don’t know if what you said constitutes nice,” said Sander. He reached up and ran a finger across Robbe’s chin. But he went on. “There’s this lady where I work over the summer that brings me David Bowie albums. She gets so excited every time she finds a new one in a garage sale somewhere, or at store, and I can’t tell her that I already own the albums already. I have five copies of Space Oddity.”

Robbe didn’t know who David Bowie was.

Another lapse into silence. Sander never seemed to mind a comfortable quiet. He guided Robbe’s head down to his for a simple kiss, but he left his eyes open, and Robbe could follow his sightline to Noor and Britt as they walked back to the castle from who-knows-where.

“Tell me something secret,” said Robbe. This much time without something on his mind could be seriously painful. “I went first last time.”

He kind of wanted Sander to refuse.

“I don’t have any secrets, Robbe.”

“You must have one.”

“Do you?”

Robbe shook his head quicker than he should have. He tried to sound as casual as possible when he said, “I’m an open book,” but he doubted it did any good.

The thing was, it was totally believable that Sander wouldn’t have any secrets. This was the boy who announced his sexuality to a friend of a friend that he didn’t even know. This was the boy who saw someone else in the astronomy tower, unloaded his relationship woes, and promptly kissed said someone else to get away from them. What did he have to hide, besides this relationship? What could someone like him possibly have to hide?

The dying day faded everything out into a stained-glass image that could take up the wall of a Hogwarts bathroom. Robbe let himself relax until his surroundings were no more than shapes and colors, pushing everything from his mind until he could barely process his hands running through Sander’s hair. The thoughts surfaced anyway. He was going to have to tell the boys about this, eventually, and maybe even Sander himself, if that was possible. Even now, his skin was electrified from contact.

So much for pushing back the sexuality crisis. It had to happen today.

“It is kind of nerve-wracking, all these people to convince,” Sander said, out of the blue. “I don’t even know who that guy is.” He pointed vaguely at Milan. “But right here, with us, this is okay. It’s just me. That’s my secret.”

That’s exactly the problem, thought Robbe. It’s just you. And I’m falling in love with you.

He said, “That’s a cop-out. Tell me something else.”

[yandere-wishes]

Payment // Twisted Wonderland Yandere! Azul Ashengrotto x Reader//

Just in time for the Octavinelle chapter! I felt like making Azul suffer for a little so there is a bit of angst in here, also thank you so much to the anon who requested this story!

=========================================================

The knocking on his door jolted Azul awake from his nap. His head sprung up eyes wide surveying the layout of his office. When had he fallen asleep? The clock read 6:30 in the afternoon, yet from what he could see the moon had already risen illuminating his office with a ghostly glow. He pinched the bridge of his nose standing up and sighing. How improper of him to fall asleep while reviewing contracts as well as his school work. The knocking continued, it began to echo around the room reverberating off the insides of his skull wedging its self into his brain. louder louder!LOUDER! He marched over to the door ready to send whoever it was on their way. He was too fatigued for pleasantries and politeness. He pulled the door wide open, mouth ajar ready to yell....he never did.There stood (Y/N), eyes bloodshot fresh tear stains tattooed over her cheeks. "I want a contract right now!" she yelled pushing past him, stomping into the office and plumbing down on one of the satin white couches. Her shoulders were slumped, she looked so weak and vulnerable. Azul quickly followed behind her, headache and unfinished work long forgotten. He slipped into the seat beside her, gloved hands gently rubbing her back. Upon the physical contact, she quickly straightened her back. The popping of joints and bones roared over the quiet room. She tried to wipe away her tears, trying to keep the new ones at bay. "He..hesaidhe... he" Her words slurred together, sticking into an incomprehensible phrase. What had happened to her? Azul's mind started falling down a sprawling rabbit whole, listing all the possible horrible things that some mongrel could have done to his precious, innocent, sweet (y/n)...No..they weren't his...they'd never been his...Azul continued rubbing circles over (y/n)'s back, his warm touch sent a caused (y/n)'s sobbing to an almost full stop, her posture relaxed practically melting into his touch. An easy silence blanketed the office, Azul's heart began to speed up. He'd never been this close to her, never touched her before. The moment felt perfect, like the gentle tide washing over his body on a bright sunny day...yes this was just like those rare blissful days back at the Sea of Corals when he'd been permitted to leave his lonely cave. "I want a contract...." Your brittle voice fragmented the irie hush. Azul's blue gaze dropped to the tiled floor, why were you so insistent on that tonight. What could you possibly want so badly that you were willing to make a deal with the devil? Azul's gesture stopped, arm dropping to the couch. "....Why?" It was unlike him to question why someone wanted a contract, he would just provide the pen and paper and smile his signature glowing grin. But something about you made him act like a dame fool. "I-I want..." You couldn't utter a single word without tearing up. What was going on! "Please" Azul leaned over, taking your small hands in his "Just tell me" his tone was too caring unfit of a sea which such as himself. "I want Malleus to love me!" You blurted out, a sharp edge engraved in your tone. Azul's heart sped up ready to break his ribcage, wanting to leave his body and beach it's self like a depressed whale.  You loved...Malleus, Malleus of all people! The moody always complaining prince of the fae. The prized child of NRC. Azul never cared much for the admiration and praise that everyone threw at his feet, but hearing that the dark fae had stolen your heart shattered his. Malleus had everything so why did he have to take the only thing Azul loved? WHY!He was desperate to say no, to shout it, to scream it until his throat went raw. He wanted to tell you that he loved you, that he would always love you. Unlike that arrogant fae who never thought of anything but himself, who was always in a bad mood for the most ridiculous reasons! But alas, Azul's mouth was a graveyard the words dying on his tongue before they got to breathe an ounce of air. His grip tightened hoping that his touch might just relay what he wanted to say. "Azul" his dishearted gaze rose to meet yours, it was his turn to look frail and broken in dire need of assistance. "Can you please make senior Malleus fall in love with me?" It hurt, it hurt so awfully! It felt like a thousand piranhas were biting every inch of his flesh, some had even infiltrated his skull, munching off chunks of his brain. He closed his eyes and sigh "I...I don't know...it could take a few days to find everything...I'll let you know by tomorrow..." The answer would still be no by tomorrow it would always be no. But he couldn't tell you that tonight not when you where so beaten and sad...when you couldn't utter a word without breaking down in tears. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly as you buried your face in his chest, soaking up the sea salt scent that he dragged everywhere. Azul stiffened, lazily curling and arm around your back and patting it. "Thank you...Thank you so much" your tears began to flow again staining his powder blue vest. In his mind, Azul noted to never wash that vest again.Early the next morning Jade found his dorm leader passed out on the couch in his office. His glasses had fallen on the floor somehow still intact. His short silver hair was a mess. His school jacket had been discarded over his desk along with his shoes, one being placed neatly under the table while the other rested on its side over his jacket. "Boss?" The older twin was dumbfounded by the sight in front of him. Azul Ashengrotto, the well-kept deal maker of the school looked like a pathetic manta ray. "Boss!" Nope, nothing. With a sigh, Jade walked over to the couch, he grabbed the sweaty fabric of Azul's white button-up and forcefully swung him forward. "Azul!!" this was the loudest sternest tone he'd ever used on his dorm leader, the fear of what he may do to him washed over Jade causing him to break into a nervous sweat. Gradually the silver-haired second year's eye blinked open, he ran a hand over his face as he groaned loudly. "Time" He grumbled while cracking his neck from side to side. "Past eight am, classes start in ten...god what the hell happened to you last night?" For a minute Azul's mind blurred, the events of last night too distant and foreign to properly recall. The then it hit him like a typhoon, everything (y/n) had said, how she'd been such a mess, how she'd ask her help on the only matter he wished she hadn't."(Y/N)? The first-year who's in the ramshackle dorm?" A crease formed between Jade's brows, his mouth morphing into a scowl. "Is she refusing to pay? I'll send Jade to have a little chat with her, if that's the case." His fingers dove into his pocket fishing out his cellphone, he scrolled through look for his twin's number. "Put it away" Azul ordered, he slowly pushed himself to his feet, mumbling a couple of curses. "BUT!.." Jade's eyes widen, why was Azul acting so weird today? "Look.." The silver-haired man grabbed his coat slipping from under his right shoe. "It's not that she wasn't paid, heck she hasn't even signed the dame contract yet and frankly  I don't want her to!" The older leech twin stiffened, his mismatched eyes surveyed the office look for any signs of alcohol or party pills. That was the only reasonable explanation for why Azul was being so uncharacteristic. Azul marched back to the couch after having slipped on both shoes, he flopped down on his stomach dramatically letting out a high pitch cry. He angled his head to the side to stare up at his dormant, ocean blue eyes fogged with grief like a kicked seal. "I...I think...I love...her" even Azul couldn't believe the words coming from his mouth. He was notorious for his scheming and cunning nature being capable of getting whatever he wanted. Yet here he was moaning and groaning over a girl, a simple magicless darling girl.Jade was beginning to get slightly irritated, his dorm leader the great and powerful Azul was acting like a lovesick school girl. Reluncity he took a seat next to the Cecaelia, he began patting his back the way one would a small child. "The way I see it, you have the advantage here." Jade paused waiting for his words to sink in. Azul simply shifted his orbs to stare directly into Jade's golden ones. "How so" he murmured. "Why not provide her with a love potion. They are simple to come by and rather cheap in the noir market. In return for your services, she'll provide you with a pact to her soul. That way it wouldn't matter who she's in love with, she'll always have to return to you." Azul rolled over, curling his lips into a sly smirk.Excitement bubbled inside of you as you ran towards the Octavinelle dorm. You were so close to finally getting your happily ever after! So close to your true love! You pushed the decorative wooden doors open with all your force. "Azul!" Your cheerful voice bounced off the walls of his office reverberating back to you. Your shimmering eyes scanned the large room trying to find the man that held the last key to your happiness. Your sight finally landed on the silver-haired businessman man sat smugly at his desk, head leaning forward on entwined fingers. "(Y/n)! you finally made it my dear." He seemed to perk up upon seeing you a charming smile grazing his lips. You quickly ran over to the organized desk, slamming your hands on the oak wood you joyously yelled"Do you have it?!" "Yes right here--"You ripped the contract parchment from his hands and, using a golden fish skeleton pen you found on the desk you started to write the first letter of your name. 'Wait!" Azul reached out gripping your wrist tightly to prevent you from continuing. "Maybe you should read the fine print..." His voice trailed off never before had he wanted someone to read the fine print before heck he'd talked all so many people out of reading it! "No, no it's fine I'll pay whatever it takes!" You tugged your wrist from his fingers and rapidly scribbled the last few letters. You stood up straight reaching your hands out to Azul for him to drop whatever contraption he had conjured to help Malleus accept your confession. The sea witch tossed you a tiny glass bottle with a sickening pink like liquid inside. "Mix that into some chocolates or a drink or whatever you are going to give him, just make sure he eats it." You laughed as tears of joy slipped from the corners of your eyes. Spinning on your heels you dashed the door before Azul's voice stopped you dead in your tracks. "Aren't you forgetting your payment?"You turned with a frown on your face. "I-I um didn't bring anything with me, just tell me what it is you want and I'll go get it!" but Azul just shook his head and signaled with his finger for you to come back. Disheartedly you walked back to the desk, as you did so, Azul slipped a reflective colored oval into his mouth. As you stepped closer he grabbed your upper arm leaning you over his desk as his lips pushed upon your own. His teeth bite harshly into your lip causing you to which and open your mouth a bit, just enough for him to slip his tough in. Your mouth overflew with the taste of salt as something scaly slipped down your throat. As soon as you had swallowed the invasive object, Azul retracted. He clutched your chin with his fingers, tilting your head up. "Jade proposed I charge you a soul-bonding spell, in which your soul would become mine." Upon his words your eyes widen, a cold sweat broke over your body. "But being the saint that I am, I chose to charge you something else." You prayed in your mind that your payment would only be the kiss that whatever he had slipped into your mouth would have just been a joke, but your hope died down as he continued "I chose an attachment spell instead, much more effective and beneficial for the both of us. You can't step further than 12 meters from me or your body will start to morph into that of a tiny little fish. Really it's a gift it aids me in keeping you safe! "Once again tears started to fall from your eyes just like the night before. You're happily ever after shattering before your eyes. Azul let go of your chin and walked over from his desk. He laced his finger with your own and practically dragged you to the door, only stopping to retrieve his hat from the coat rack. "I believe we should get started on those chocolates from Malleus don't you agree? After all, he too should get a taste of what it feels like to want something yet for it to be so out of reach!""But not to worry you, poor unfortunate soul! Now that I have you in my clutch I'm NEVER letting you get away!"

[tory-ben-hi-shelton]

my favourite quotes from exposure

Multiple sets of handcuffs appeared and were applied. Bailiffs began peeling off the dog-pile like layers of an onion. And there, at the bottom of the scrum, was Kit. He was panting like a marathoner, arms still wrapping the Gamemaster's legs in a death grip. He'd clearly been the first to react.

"Oh, man!" Shelton had both hands on his dome. He seemed winded, despite not having moved during the attack. "Things just got real in here."

"Sorry I froze in there, Tor." Shelton frowned as he shirt wiped his glasses. "Not exactly my 'One Shining Moment', huh?" I waved off his apology. I knew Shelton hated how skittish he could be.

I try to hide the eruptions, but the guys can always tell. They do their best to support me even though it makes them uncomfortable. It's very sweet, but teenage boys make lousy grief counsellors.

The previous semester, Ben had been in half our classes, too, despite being a junior. Obviously, he was no longer around. Sometimes it felt like a limb was missing.

"Jason might be there," Courtney chirped. "He likes you."

"Oh." Not a brilliant response. "Yeah, maybe. I might have a thing, though."

Wonderful. Good job, good effort, Tory.

Behind me, I heard Hi fake coughing to cover his snickers

"I should be a secret agent." Hi blew on his fingernails, then buffed them on his lapel. "Or a magician. Maybe both. Someone write that down."

My hands shot for the Ray-Bans, but Ben caught my fingers mid-flight.

"It's not nice to grab," he said calmly.

"I can't handle all this tension," Shelton moaned. "Too much fighting."

Hi nodded, watching Ben dissapear down a side street. "We need to work on our conflict management. Maybe attend a seminar."

"Make your own?" Hi shifted to look at my face. "Victoria Grace, have you been holding out on me?"

"Tell me everything."

"You're not gonna be happy," Hi warned. "Don't kill the messenger."

"Or his good-looking buddy," Shelton added.

"On Saturday Ben and I drove to John's Islands to see Skyfall."

"You did?" Hi said sharply. "Thanks for the invite, jerks."

Shelton raised his palms. "You were at temple. We're suppose to wait around? Plus, you've seen that movie like five times."

"You still could've asked," Hi grumbled. "I don't—"

"Guys!" I clapped my hands once. "The story, please."

"So many gentleman admirers," Hi mused. "Must be tough, being a heartbreaker."

"Zip it. Unless you wanna see a leg-breaker too."

Ella adopted a mock serious tone. "Will you bodyguards consent?"

I giggled. "If Shelton and Hi are my bodyguards, I don't like my chances. And yes."

"See this?" Ben glanced at the mirror and pointed to his chin. "This is my 'couldn't care less' face."

"Boys?" I stood and faced them. "Something to share?"

"It was a secret." Hi aimed a kick at Shelton, who dodged easily. "Ben made us swear not to tell."

I crossed my arms. Waited.

"Tell Kit we're cutting a music video," Hi suggested as we walked. "Something real gangster, so we need to smash-cut our dance routines. Lay down some visuals. We could offer to let him freestyle rap over the second verse."

"Come on, Sambo!" Hi winked. "Live a little. What are we going to do, rob the place?"

The guard crossed his arms. "Wink at me again, Hiram, and I'll throw you to the wolfpack."

"Did I not mention that?" My brain was truly deep fried. "We went together."

"Oh." Hi and Shelton at once. Ben looked away.

"Hey, wait." I leaned closer to the screen. "You guys wouldn't have wanted to go. I took Ella so I wouldn't be paraded around like Whitney's toy poodle." No one spoke. Nonplussed, I decided to change the subject.

I glowered at Ben from the backseat. I'd given Hi shotgun, having sensed this argument was inevitable. I didn't want to be close. The urge to slap might become overpowering.

"Why don't we use our friendly words?" Hi suggested. "Let's take five, and everyone can say something we like about each other. I'll start. Shelton you're super at—"

"Shut up, Hi!" Ben and I shouted, the first thing we'd agreed upon all morning.

"Must be hell to keep the pH balance correct. I know how it is. I owned a goldfish once."

"Once?" Shelton asked.

"It died. Almost immediately."

"Nice work."

"It's a cultural thing," Hi was saying. "I think you're being insensitive."

Hines snorted. "Do you want me to cuff you?"

"Kinda."

"A minute alone, Tory. I'd like a quick chat."

Ben shot forward. "You can stick chat right up—"

Hi waved at me from across the yard, waiting for his mother to arrive. Apparently he'd body-blocked the first cops to chase me through the house. The police were none too pleased. I owe you one, Hi. You bought me enough time.

Entering the Virals chat room, I found all three boys present.

Uh oh.

They'd met there ahead of time, before alerting me. To discuss me.

I glanced up to see Shelton holding latex gloves. Hi had the ziplocks. Ben handed me a cotton swab and stopper. "Anything else?"

Despite the circumstances, I smiled.

Ruth popped her son on the back of the head. "Mind your manners, Hiram."

"Why does everyone do that?" Hi muttered. "And that was child abuse. In front of the police, I might add."

He looked away. The harbour breeze ruffled his silky black hair. My hand found his, almost by its own volition.

I couldn't be mad at Ben anymore. It was like being mad at my left arm. And right then, I needed my arm back.

A smile quirked on my father's lips. "And you, Mr. Blue? Ready for a good ol'-fashioned backyard barbecue? My daughter will be there."

Ben's uneasy smile was his only response.

Ben reached up from where he was lying with his eyes closed. Smacked Hi's dome.

Hi rubbed his head. "I'm getting pretty tired of that move."

"Then quit being a dope." Ben's lids remained shut.

"Hey, sure. No problem. I just need to—"

Hi lunged for Ben, intending a flying body slam. Ben caught Hi in midair and tossed him downhill in one quick motion. Hi tumbled, rolled, and dropped over the berm of the sand.

"That was dumb." Hi informed the blue sky.

Ben started talking about Wando High. I countered with news of Bolton. Before long, we'd exchanged stories, catching up on the last five months of each other's lives. I hadn't realized how much I missed Ben. How badly I wanted him back at Bolton.

He was right, of course. I was keeping several secrets from Ben. Like how comfortable it felt to be alone with him. How much I'd missed his reassuring presence. His quiet strength.

Ben removed his shoes, plunged both feet into the lapping salt waters Then he leaned back against a post, sighing contently. The little-boy maneuver brought a smile to my face.

"You're staying out here?" Shelton asked. "Alone?"

"No big deal. I don't want Kit to see what I'm up to."

"I don't like it," Ben said. Behind him, Hi looked uneasy.

"No one knows this place exists." I pointed to the other room. "And there's an 85 pound predator in there that loves me. I'll be fine."

...

"Text me when you get home." Ben requested. "Please don't forget."

I hid a smile. "Will do. Bye, guys."

I sat forward at the table. "Okay, so ... like, don't freak out."

That got their attention.

"About?" Ben took the seat across from me, next to Hiram.

"There was an incident last night." Oh so calm. "I'm perfectly okay, but on the way hone someone attacked me on the beach."

"What?!" Three stunned voices.

"That's why you didn't text," Ben muttered.

Ben shook his head in wonderment. "Incredible. It's nice having a genius around."

"It's only genius if it works." But I flushed at the compliment.

I squeezed Ben's shoulder. "Who's the genius now?"

He snorted, looked away.

"You let her go alone?" Ben scolded, slowly working his way down to where Hi was beached. "That defeats the whole purpose!"

"I'm aware of that, Benjamin." Hi tried slinging a leg onto the riverbank, but it flopped back into the rolling current. "But she'd figured out you sent her away from the mine on purpose. You try telling Tory what to do when she's pissed."

"I'll pass."

"How's the leg, detective? Or did my wolfdog bite you in the ass, instead?"

"Hey, at least it's not your birthday. Worst one ever, by the way."

His fist came up. I dapped it with mine.

"For Tory," Shelton said.

"For Tory." All jokes shelved.

Coop was rolling in the leaves, pinning someone beneath his massive bulk.

Ben dove on the tangle with a voice-cracking whoop.

I was no longer alone. The Virals had found me. Ben was beaming, unable to hide his relief. He turned quickly, wiping his glowing eyes. Shelton darted forward and crushed me with a hug. Coop was dancing and bucking, his tail wagging so hard he had trouble keeping balance. My boys. My heroes.

"Do you confronted the twins alone, without waiting for us?" Ben couldn't keep the anger from his voice. "After making us promise not to do anything like that?"

"We can discuss my impulsiveness another time—"

"Oh, we will." Ben assured me.

I ejected the spent clip from the HK45, slammed the new one into place, then worked the slide to chamber a round. Then I held the weapon loosely at my side, barrel pointed toward the ground.

"I'm terrified of you right now," Hi said wide-eyed. "And in love. Take me shooting with your aunt Tempe next time."

"Take the SUV and go. I'll stay with Ella and handle the fallout."

"Out of your mind." Ben said immediately.

"We could drive away without anybody knowing."

"I'm not leaving Tory to face this alone," Ben insisted. "Get serious!"

I spoke softly. "The cops will eat you alive, Benjamin Blue. You have to go."

Ben tensed, ready to argue.

"Detective Hawfield died. This is going to get serious. It's way too much heat for you. Please be sensible."

Ben hesitated. Then his shoulders slumped.

"Maybe you're right." Deep breath. "But you're taking away the other possibility, too."

"I don't understand." I glanced over my shoulder at the approaching vehicle. "What other possibility?"

He smiled wanly. "Ben Blue, The Hero. That kinda would've been nice."

I paused, at a loss for words. My heart broke for him.

"But that's okay." Ben dug keys from his pocket. "After all, we're Virals, not heroes. And that's fine. Plus, I'm not really the hero type."

He turned to leave.

Impulsively, I grabbed Ben's arm. Pulled him close. Smashed my lips against his. The kiss only lasted a second, but also an eternity. Then I stepped back an shoved Ben towards the Explorer.

"Of course you're the type." I was grateful the darkness hid my blushes. "Now go."

Ben stared, stricken, thunderstruck. Hi and Shelton watched, wide-eyed with shock.

"Weirdest birthday ever," Hi whispered.

"Corcoran will survive," Ben commented sourly. "He always does. We crack the case, he gets to be the hero."

My head whipped to Ben. Was that bitterness?

I saw no trace. Ben was smiling, relaxed for the first time in days. Maybe months.

As my father strode away, Shelton and Hi both unleashed dramatic yawns.

"Welp." Hi stretch his arms over his head. "I'd better go check on various things that aren't right here. You coming, Shelton?"

"Oh you know it." Hiding a smile. "Stuff to do. No time to waste."

I descended two steps.

Stopped.

Shot back up.

Wrapped Ben in a bone-crushing hug.

Startled, it took him a moment before he hugged me back.

"He didn't say anything to me," Hi repeated. "And if Shelton were sick, I'd be the first to hear about it. At length."

"So what's the plan?" Ben asked.

"Go inside. Look around. Improvise."

"Brilliant." Hi stroked his chin. "Quick question: Is having no plan the same as having a terrible plan, or are those different categories?"

[deiliamedlini]

WIP Wednesday 1

I’m posting two WIPs today because they’re both currently being absorbed into another fic and will never again see the light of day in this form! So here is the first one!

This BOTW scene, but written in a modern fantasy way is: Link saves Zelda from a Guardian with a pot lid, which is a scene from Zelda’s diary.

Goes along with this other scene that happens a little later with this same Link and Zelda where Link gets assigned to guard Zelda personally.

~~~

“Hrmmm,” Robbie hummed to himself as he looked through Zelda’s notes. “This is interesting, I’ll admit that. But the way I read it, it’s too flawed. Tell me more. Let’s think this through.”

Robbie was the lead researcher on Project Guardian. His posture was perhaps the most telling part of his personality; his hands were always on his hips, straight backed, almost like a superhero. When others would cross their arms to think, Robbie would go straight into his superhero pose and hum loudly to himself.

His goggles held his white hair back from his face. The goggles were a staple of every one of his outfits. He worked more with the large machinery, building prototype after prototype until he was forced onto a break by anyone higher than him, or Purah, who technically matched his position.

Both were young, doctorates before they were even out of their twenties and neither yet nearing thirty. Both Sheikah, ensuring that the artifacts were treated with the respect and reverence that their culture demanded. Both the brightest minds in all of Hyrule.

Zelda felt intimidated near them, but she was learning from the best. So when the Robbie asks you to tell him more, one tells him more.

“Okay, my idea is that we come up with some kind of injectable serum that we place markers in. When the Guardians go to attack the threat, but they see, say, me rather than a Yiga for example, they’ll scan for the presence of that marker and cease to fire on me. Instead, they’ll attack the real enemy.”

“Hrmmmm,” Robbie said, though he’d just read all this in her notes. “Money and funding for such a task aside, how do you propose we go about injecting nearly 30 million people?”

“Mandate it, of course.”

Robbie scoffed, forgetting for a moment that he was speaking with the Princess of Hyrule. If she wanted to mandate the injection, of course she could.

“You will have those who refuse,” he said instead. “Or those too unhealthy or who reject the serum for whatever reason. Perhaps it’s toxic to our first trial participants. Perhaps it won’t work as well on a Sheikah or a Rito as it will on a Hylian. You must also think of some other, faster, more effective ways.”

Zelda sat at the desk, resting her hand on her cheek. “I suppose it could be a type of paint. Something that goes onto a person rather than into them.”

Robbie surpressed a laugh at the Princess’ expense. “Well, perhaps someone forgets their paint? Maybe the weather will wash it off. Or someone cannot afford it. Or runs out. Perhaps the Guardians attack them, and their children. What then?”

“Fine,” Zelda hissed, getting his point but feeling frustrated. It had been such a good idea, she thought. “I don’t know. If only we could set them to auto-pilot, then we could—”

Robbie smiled, knowing where her mind was going before she even got there.

She stopped, her mouth open. “We need pilots. We need a conscious mind to control them. The large ones we excavated… those would be too wild to use without a pilot, even if we theoretically could. A pilot would negate those fears. They’d see friend from foe.”

“How many pilots can we afford to train?”

That had Zelda stop immediately. “I… I don’t know.”

Robbie didn’t expect everything from her. “I don’t think we can have each Guardian with their own pilots. We start with four, one for each of the four larger ones. We take samples, record data, and see if we can synthesize a program for an autopilot. If we can, then I think we should work on incorporating that into the smaller Guardians. Perhaps we can have a lead Guardian each time, and those would have its own pilot, and a string of others will follow?”

“See,” Purah said, looking up from her phone where she’d been taking notes in the corner of the room. “Told you she had a good idea.”

“You did indeed, Princess,” Robbie said with a winning smile. “I’ll get straight to work on it. I’ll draft a proposal and send it to your father immediately so we might be able to recruit the first pilots who will champion this project. I’ll have it in to him by tomorrow.”

“Dr. Robbie,” a researcher said, coming in with a tablet. “You asked for a briefing on the latest trial run?”

Robbie hesitated, not wanting to ignore the presence of the Princess. 

But she read the room. “Don’t worry,” Zelda said, standing up. “We should be going anyway. I look forward to hearing how the proposal goes.”

“I’m sure you’ll know before me, Princess. Good night.”

“Night, Robbie.”

Purah led Zelda out from Robbie’s office, taking the route past the prototype Guardians.

Researchers were mulling around, some in lab coats, some in street clothes, all of them looked busy. And most of them had their eyes on her as she passed by.

“Next time,” Zelda muttered, “we take the quieter route.”

“Understood and agreed. Come on, let’s go to my lab. I can show you the Slate I’ve been working on.”

But they didn’t get the chance.

A deep scream rang out, crying “look out!” to anyone within earshot. Perhaps it was instinct from being in the dangerous lab often, but Purah took a flying leap forward behind one of the pillars that held up the balcony of the second floor, unsure what she was looking out for.

But Zelda didn’t have that reflex.

Instead, her head shot around, looking for the threat so she could hide in the most appropriate location. Was it a Yiga attack? Should she find something to defend herself with? Was it a chemical spill? Did she need to take heed at all if it was simply a broken glass that someone nearly stepped on.

So she didn’t see the red laser aimed in her direction, and worse, she didn’t see the blue beam of energy that followed it.

When she was knocked backwards, she was surprised to find herself on the ground at all, let alone to find someone lying on her, covering her entirely from the blast.

The white sleeve of his lab coat was smoking, burned nearly clean off and exposing singed skin beneath it, fabric melted into his flesh, and hairs on his arm gone. His hand shook, and he dropped a large piece of Sheikah tech that looked far worse than his arm, a hole burned clean through the thick piece of metal that had taken the brunt of the impact off them both, though his arm appeared to have suffered regardless.

When Zelda noticed those two things, her eyes widened, and her heart sped up. “Oh Goddess!” she breathed, her head falling backwards with a harsh thud before she remembered the man on top of her. “Are you okay?”

Her hand went to his chest to help push him up, and she felt something hard under her hand. Something hard that she knew... something like the body armor her guards used. She let her fingers move. Solid, not human flesh; definitely the armor. Her eyes darted immediately to his ear next. And above his blue earring, she saw that her suspicions were confirmed. His ear wasn’t empty, but a very familiar earpiece with a wide hidden by his disheveled hair and low ponytail that had hidden it.

He was not a scientist. He was one of her undercover guards.

“How did you get to me so fast? Where even were you?” she asked, finally understanding why some strange scientist had risked his life to reach her. But she and Purah had been alone on this side of the room. Everyone kept their distance. Everyone stayed out of reach, and he’d been there in an instant.

He stood up, off her almost as quickly as he’d dove in front of her in the first place. “Are you alright, Princess Zelda?” he asked, oozing formality and professionalism, as if he hadn’t just nearly died. He offered her his hand before wincing and retracting it, offering her his other, non-singed one. As if nothing had happened. As if she’d simply tripped.

Now, she was stunned into confusion, trying to put the events in order, to relieve them and understand. She blindly accepted his hand and felt a shockwave of energy pass between them, sending a harsh shiver down her spine that had her attention immediately shift to the man who’d saved her.

He was slightly older than her, though it couldn’t be by much. She was almost surprised her father actually employed any of the younger agents to be her guards. She’d only ever really noticed the older ones. But this man was familiar somehow, though she was sure she’d never seen him in person before today. He could have been her guard in the past, expertly blending in as was his job. But she suspected something more.

His blue eyes were brilliant and captivating. Alert and on her, like he was thinking something about her rather than simply waiting for her to answer him, his eyes were straight out of a crayon box, like the lightest and purest of the blues had been picked for his eyes, one that a child would use for the daylight sky. But the color wasn’t all that was intense about them. It was in the way he looked at her, like she held the answers to the world. His gaze was that intense. It was unnerving.

“Yes,” she finally managed. “I’m fine, thank you.”

He managed a short nod and stepped backwards, allowing her to pass. Purah had grabbed onto Zelda, rambling about how she needed to get checked. But Zelda’s eyes drifted to the burned Sheikah tech on the ground. A hole had gone through the metal. His arm had been burned. And he’d gotten to her in time. 

He was good, apparently. Good at his job. Too good. She’d have to be more alert to the locations of her guards.

“Was he near us?” was all Zelda could ask Purah as they headed out of the building, the other researchers proceeding to clean up the mess.

“I don’t know. Your guards are always near us. But Zelda, are you okay? That could have killed you! That was nearly the end of your life!”

Zelda chuckled nervously, rubbing at her hand, still feeling the agent’s in hers. But what she didn’t realize was that the attack from the Guardian hadn’t nearly been the end of her life, but it was the start of it.

[rwbyvein]

Firen Lhain:  Chapter 604:  Four: Part III/III

Jaune at on one of the couches. RWBY sat on the other two. "I... still can't believe that worked..."

"What is this?," Yang asked, "a joke to you?"

"I've never been more serious in my life." Jaune stated. "Four amazonian Huntresses just confessed to me, and then agreed to share me!"

Ruby and Yang sat eagerly sitting forward, Weiss sat elegantly, and Blake looked like the cat that ate the canary.

"So?," Blake, "why the spankings?"

"I thought it would break the spell."

"Like magic?" Ruby asked, "Who cast magic?.."

"He doesn't mean it literally." Weiss stated.

"It's a metaphor." Blake added, "What he means is that this is all a dream."

With that Ruby pinched Yang.

"Yo?" Yang angrily asked her.

"You felt it!" Ruby stated.

"What?" Weiss asked.

"You can't feel pain in your dreams." Blake stated, "But are supposed to pinch YOURSELF!"

As she said this Yang pinched Ruby in return. "You feel that, sis?"

"It's not a dream!" Ruby shouted.

Jaune sighed into his hands.

"So?," Blake asked Jaune, "the spell didn't break; this is real?"

"Wait?," Yang asked, "he spanked us because of magic?"

"The magic of sisters!" Ruby exclaimed.

"Now that the magic is dispelled, and we are all, here." Jaune said, and stood up, "And all committed, there is one more step you girls must take."

"I kind of think we've done plenty." Yang strongly voiced.

"Perhaps we hear him out, and then admonish him?" Weiss asked.

"I guess that makes sense." Yang said, and Jaune breathed in deep.

"Alright, so, here's the thing, I was raised traditionally. I won't sleep with a woman I wouldn't marry."

"And just which one of us wouldn't you marry?" Weiss asked, "Is it Yang?"

"Hey?!" Yang replied.

Jaune once again sighed and looked them back in their eyes. "I would marry any one of you in a heartbeat."

"Then, what's the problem?" Yang asked.

"I suppose, maybe, ourselves." Weiss stated. "And perhaps the fact that we - cannot - in fact, all marry."

"We can in Menagerie." Blake stated.

"We can what?" Yang asked.

"Seriously?" Jaune asked, "I guess we're all Faunus, so they'd likely accept us."

"We could, also, engage in a committed relationship," Weiss added, "even if not approved by the Kingdoms."

"So," Yang asked, "I'd be what?"

"Concubine." Blake stated.

"She really likes that word." Nora said from the sidelines, and all eyes were on her. Nora nervously waved. "I... guess... I mmaayybbee shouldn't have said that."

"We apologize for our interuption." Ren added.

"Buuuut!" Nora shouted, "it does kind of affect us."

"I suppose..." Weiss voiced, "she does... make a valid point..."

"It is kind of our thing," Yang said, "so maybe she can keep her trap shut."

"We once again apologize." Ren stated.

"So, what?.." Ruby asked, "we can't marry, but we can kind-of marry?"

"Exactly!" Nora shouted from the sidelines.

Jaune thought for a moment, "The commitment will be good enough, I guess."

"And what, exactly, are we committing to?" Weiss asked, "For the sake of clarity."

"Love, honour, obey?" Jaune asked, "In sickness and in health, to death do us part?"

"Kind of heavy..." Yang voiced, and all eyes were on her. She looked back up at Jaune, "But... if we're all in on this... I could be serious for once in my life. Jaune said this was the most serious thing he's ever done, but it's the same for me. Maybe worse for me. I spent my childhood kind of being a bit of a thrillseeker, but just now, the like year we've known each other means more to me than the rest of my life. Going forward or backwards."

"Can I say it?!" Nora asked.

"Say what?" Ruby asked her.

"The gang's all here. Now we can die together!" Nora shouted.

"Aw, shit, I'm sure we can think of a better way to..." Yang tried to say, but Weiss stood up.

"A marvelous way of putting it. Now, Ruby, your thoughts?"

"Okay... I mean... I am kind of the leader... so I guess it makes sense you guys would get to shack up with the guy I'm with, I mean..."

Weiss breathed in deeply a few times before being able to say anything. "How do you feel about Jaune?"

"Oh, like, he's so wicked-cool-awesome-giant-strong, but so are all of you!"

"Except the giant part." Weiss voiced.

"I don't know..." Yang voiced, "with the way she carries herself around, you'd think the world revolved around her."

Weiss blushed and looked down. She then looked up at Ruby, satisfied that Ruby was finished. She then cleared her throat, looking at Jaune. "You have been far too kind to me."

"I... what?.." Jaune asked.

"Even?.." Yang asked, "all the times... he..."

"He was perhaps a bit overbearing." Weiss stated, but looked R_BY and Jaune in the eyes, "But can any of you honestly say that I am not as well?" No one could say anything in reply. She then continued looking between everyone, "When I first came down to Vale, I thought the world owed me everything, but... then I found a place to belong. Perhaps the FIRST place I've ever belonged. Our mottley crew is more of a family than mine ever was. For me, when I was small..." she voiced, "small... er... family was more about dynastic concerns than, you know, mutual support and whatnot. But, thanks in large part to our sisters, and their... unsual... but loving family, I have seen the error of my ways."

"What she means," Yang stated, "is that she's in."

"Hm... I mean... yes..." Weiss voiced, "Blake?"

"Yes." Blake stated, and everyone started at her, "What?," she asked, "there's no way I could possibly say everything I want to say, so... yes..."

Yang then raised her hand, "So... when do we get to... you know?.."

Jaune looked at them for a pregnant moment. "You should all... first..."

"We should all what, first?" Ruby asked.

"I think he means..." Yang voiced.

"Oh, that's what he means." Blake added.

"What?" Ruby asked, and Blake grabbed Weiss' hand. Weiss nervously looked towards her when Blake moved in to passionately kiss her on the lips.

"What?" Yang asked, but looked over to find Ruby trying to do the same to her. "Chill for a minute." Yang said."

"For a minute." Ruby said, as she slowly backed off.

"So, like, what?" Yang asked.

"I don't want this to be a you and me thing; I want you all to be happy together."

"I suppose it would avoid discord in the hareem..." Weiss voiced.

"You girls are all wicked hot." Yang added, only to recoil as she saw Ruby coming in for another kiss. She held her off with a hand, "So... uh... even me and Ruby?" Yang nervously asked, but Jaune said nothing, just watching. Reluctantly Yang let go of Ruby who dove in to kiss her on the lips.

Qrow then walked out to the middle of the group. Once Ruby pulled back from Yang and the two caught their breath he spoke, "Alright, now that you kids have that all worked out, maybe we should talk about getting to Atlas, or something?"

"Spoiler." Yang said to him.

"I hate to rain on your parade, kids, but apparently someone has to." Qrow continued. "Now, the easiest way into Atlas is through Argus, but, word on the street has the borders still shut. Why don't we ask Weiss' pet?"

"Hello?" Aurora said as she walked up.

"Aurora?" Weiss questioned her nonchalance.

"Sadly," Aurora stated, "none of my connections have a way into Atlas. You cannot get in without direct approval from the Atlas Council."

"General Ironwood," Weiss voiced, "has two seats on the Atlas council."

"Which means?," Jaune asked, "if we convince him?.."

"Convincing him is not the hard part." Qrow voiced, "despite our differences, we go way back, and even if he doesn't believe in Ozpin himself, he believes in his ideals. Maybe in a bit of a different way No, the problem is talking to him. The CCT is still down, and it's hard to get anything into Atlas, and it's not like James can just come right out and support me."

"Why not?" Nora asked, and Qrow drank from his flask.

"Seriously?" Yang asked him.

"Like?.." Jaune added, "aren't you hung over like the rest of us."

"Ever hear of Hair of the Dog?" Qrow asked. "Anyways, that's one of the reasons, I'm an unkept alcoholic who has... let's say... issues... with authority."

"Welcome to the club." Jaune said to him.

"You're not an alcoholic," Qrow said to him, "at least not yet. But it's one of the things... we work in secret. If people start looking into us and find out about the Maidens, and Salem, and," he said, and paused a moment, "can you imagine it?"

"Bedlam." Ren stated.

"Panic in the street." Blake added.

"And that's why James has to pretend he doesn't like me..." Qrow voiced, "heh... pretend..."

"Aurora?" Jaune asked.

"Yes, sir?" she replied.

"Sir?" he asked.

"Yes, sir?" Aurora replied.

"uh?.."

"Honey?" Weiss asked him.

"Honey?" he replied.

"We perhaps still have yet to decide this." Weiss continued.

"Anyways..." Jaune said to Aurora, "can your connections... get a message to him?"

"oh?!" Aurora exclaimed, "Several, in fact."

"Let's use all of them." Jaune stated.

"Like... ALL of them?" Yang asked.

"Blake said her father sent a messager, right?" Jaune asked.

"It," Ilia voiced, and all heads turned to look at her, "was probably Yuma."

"I did not mean to disturb you at all." Aurora voiced.

"More things to talk about." Blake added.

"Yes, all." Jaune said to Aurora. "Or like, a dozen?"

"As soon as James sees Qrow Branwen on his desk, he'll act." Qrow said, "It might be to punch me... but..." and shrugged.

"And... in the mean time?.." Ren asked.

"Train." Qrow stated, and drew his scythe, pointing it at Ren and Nora.

"Can I fight Yang?!" Nora exclaimed. "Or you?, how about you?"

Qrow put his scythe away, "I'm kind of the teacher, so no. How about you fight Jaune?"

"Pft." Nora stated, "That's like treason or something."

Weiss and Blake looked Jaune in the eyes.

"I... have learned... to accept..." Jaune voiced, "mostly accept... the high opinion Nora has of me... high... and low... Still don't understand it."

"HE'S OUR GLORIOUS LEADER!" Nora exclaimed.

"I do love her enthusiasm." Yang added.

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Cream and Two Sugars- A McChapel fic

~~

Sickbay was quiet, something he would never say aloud due to the infamous rule of "Never say it's quiet because it soon won't be". They'd done all the physicals, the check-ups and the shots, in fact, he was quite surprised at how quickly they could get work done with a day away from emergencies and a crew that would cooperate. 

Leonard was trying to get some work done, trying being the opulent word. Christine had just come back from the labs, where she'd been working on some project just to keep up her skills from the long lost days of her scientific career. 

Her hair was up today, he could see the lack of tension in her neck. She was behind him now and whistling a tune to herself as she wrote up her findings. 

He tried to look back at his PADD to read the report but the words muddled together into the same scribbled nonsense. She stood up behind him and grabbed his mug, her perfume swirled around his head. He gulped.

"Len," She was the only one allowed to call him that. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, but without all that cream and sugar shit you put in yours," 

"I have my tastes and you have yours,"

He scoffed, "Taste's one thing, masking that taste is another,"

The mugs clicked in her hand as she placed them under the duel-stream coffee maker inset into the wall. She started to hum just as she replied, "Just because you have to consume everything as bitter as your soul, doesn't mean I do,"

With that he shot up, discarding the stylus onto his desk as he rushed across the room to her side. He heard her breath catch in her throat as his warming cologne, her floral perfume and the steaming coffee scents all mixed. 

Christine had held his interest for a few months now and he had a sneaking suspicion that she did too. He knew there was a possibility she didn't, that her heart still belonged somewhat to Spock. But now the first officer was wholeheartedly in love with the Captain he thought he might have a chance.

"I think we both know my soul ain't as bitter as my coffee," He made sure his words stroked the exposed skin of her neck.

"I don't know, there's little evidence to say otherwise," 

He feigned shock, "Little evidence, have you ever seen me being kind to a child, or one o'those ensigns barely out of the Academy. I think you'll find that I am a very considerate and gentle person-"

She started to prepare her coffee when he turned her around to look deeply in her blue eyes. They gulped in unison and smiled. Both of them knew they were being silly, all these comments and the severe lack of personal space between them.

"Well, you could've had me fooled,"

She leant in and closed her arms around his chest, taking his scent in with deep breaths. He returned her embrace but held back slightly, wanting to nuzzle and kiss her neck, rub circles into her back and hold her tight enough to never let her go. 

"Come on Leonard, show me this gentle side of yourself you're so proud of," She said.

She pulled her head back and saw him pull away when she leant in to kiss him. That fiery thrill in her stomach dissipating immediately. Had she been wrong? Maybe she'd missed the signs or let her infatuation mask reality?

"Leonard, did I read this wrong?" 

He stood a few steps away when she reached for him. His own fire turned sour, almost purple as guilt became the fuel.

"No, I-"

"No? Then why are you pushing me away? We both want this, what's stopping us?"

He didn't reply. All she got was a look of despair, a sad longing in his eyes. She'd waited for Roger to show her she was truly worthy of devotion but he couldn't. His research was his devotion, never her. Spock had caught her eye and her will but he too had a reason, although a much more valid and understandable reason, not to return her feelings. She couldn't be rejected again, not after she'd been given a whiff of Leonard's splendorous love.

"Is it Starfleet? Because I don't care about them, I've always told you that. They may have trained me as a nurse but they can't control who I share my affections with," She still got no reply. "Perhaps because you're my boss? Well we both know that you've never treated me as your subordinate, everyone is in this sickbay is equally as needed and equally as busy, that's what you always say,"

He shook his head and clenched his hands. His body tensed, he was holding himself back. 

"Then what? I know the looks we've shared mean something, the jokes and he touches. So if you're not going to do something about it then I deserve to get a reason why!"

And with that, he exploded, "Because I'm ten years your senior! I've had time to live and screw up and train and have kids and be married and get divorced and chase the possibilities and you're just getting to the good part,"

"You're getting to the part where you might start experimenting with people differently, you know what you like but you want to know how you like it. You're right in the sweet spot of having all the opportunities to get promoted and train to get whatever role you choose. None of that should include settling with a crotchety old coot who doesn't know if he's gonna stay in Starfleet or go home or go somewhere else entirely." 

He stepped into her body again and took a moment to caress her face. She shuddered under his hand, letting herself relax and close his eyes, listen to the sounds of his voice. 

"I can't offer you stability, I can't offer you a willingness to go off gallivanting to who knows where. I've felt trapped in a relationship before and I don't want you to realise when you're my age that you wasted your time on a crush that got too deep when you could've been out realising who you are,"

She held onto his hand and moved it from her face. They looked away from themselves, distracting themselves withdrawing abstract shapes on the backs of their palms. A rushing blush flooded her cheeks, and his too when she checked.

Why couldn't he accept that she wanted him? Was he that lacking in self-confidence or had someone taught him wrongly over years of disagreements?

"How do you know what I'll want in ten years? And why do you get to say what I should do in my thirties," She knocked his forehead with hers and lowered her volume so only he could hear it. "I've done my experimenting, I've had my major bad relationship and my heartbreaking unrequited love. Can't we have this?"

Their hands broke apart as she ran her hands over his chest. He was lean, not too muscular and not too thin. His scrubs were smooth over her hands as she lifted their heads and prepared their lips to kiss.

"Why can't we have this? Who told us we couldn't?"

"No one,"

Their eyes locked and everything internally stopped, dropping to the floor as her head floated just within her grasp for her to pull herself back together so she could truly enjoy this. 

"Then why don't we give it a try, Len," They chuckled lowly at the nickname. "Why don't we try?"

She closed the gap and everything snapped back into place again. Her thoughts flew out of her head. His hands drew across her waist, running through the few loose hairs falling out of her bun and holding her still with a single grip.

They broke but dove back in. She'd never had something like this before. It wasn't passionate, she didn't have the urge to rip their clothes off and truly discover each other right there in the empty sickbay. Instead, it was home. It was warm blankets and old holofilms, family recipes and days spent in bed as snow fell outside.

He hummed as she pulled away to lay her head on his shoulder and lazily stroke the creases in his undershirt. They stood breathless for a moment before she whispered.

"How about we have a proper date?"

"Sounds like a good idea, how about twenty hundred hours in the mess hall on deck eight?"

"Deck eight? But no one goes there,"

He gave her that charming smile and her stomach swooped. "Exactly, no one goes there,"

They met in the middle again and fell into a routine. Her tongue flashed against his bottom lip just as he broke off and twisted his head to plunge in again. His hands grabbed a hunk of her dress in one hand as they bent slightly and bumped into the counter.

"Ehem, doctor,"

They turned with a gasp to see the Captain and the First Officer at the door to sickbay. Jim had that goofy smile on his face and Spock simply raised an eyebrow.

"I was going to say were you listening to Uhura's announcements, but you clearly were occupied," He made a signal for Bones to follow him. "We have a possible concussion on the bridge, come along,"

Leonard gave a wave to Christine and rubbed his face a few times in a failed attempt to hide the raging red flush on his face. She merely laughed and sipped her coffee as he left sickbay.

"Captain, did you get McCoy? Chekov says he's feeling drowsy," Uhura's voice said through Jim's communicator.

"Yes, we have him now, on our way up, Lieutenant,"

"Where was he Captain, I was beginning to think my transmissions weren't going through,"

"Oh not to worry, Lieutenant, Doctor McCoy was just having a meeting with his nurse," He said with a grin just as he collapsed to the floor after tripping over Leonard's outstretched foot.

"Oh sorry Captain, did I trip you up?" He said, changing his tone from joking to serious when he added. "And how about we start acting professionally, you know, how we're meant to?"

Spock gave one of his ghosts of a smile and stated simply, "That seems like far too great of a task for you Doctor, considering how you were just acting with Nurse Chapel,"

Leonard made a mental note to add more security on his office door just as he stepped onto the bridge and caught as woozy Chekov in his arms.

So, I wrote this in one night after having a day of major McChapel feels. Also, Christine is born in 2237 in TOS? I always thought she was closer to Bones' age but I guess not. I hope you enjoyed this, tell me if you did!

[colemacgrathtkz]

Carving fear

The walls echoed with each step Kikimora took. Even with the hood, the two emperor’s coven guards gave away her identity.  Surprise was key to capturing their target. Only permitting a single small orb of light to guide their path, only the leader wasn’t tripping over herself. Discovering the cavern was supposed to lead to the end of their mission. A direct order from Emperor Belos, himself. Detain and retrieve the one responsible for the chaos unleashed on the Boiling Isles. 

The trio ventured further into what slowly began to appear as a makeshift lair.

Coven subordinate (Unsettled): “Why would the miscreant create such an obvious dwelling?”

Kikimora: “Compose yourselves! I will not tolerate any humiliation brought onto the coven.”

Passing stalagmites and stalactites, the walls smoothed out into a single passage. A faint light was spotted ahead. Snuffing out theirs, they readied themselves any type of ambush. Finally reaching the end, only a large chamber with two torches placed on both ends. One just above the coven’s agents and the second just above a simple stone throne. A single figure sat patiently waiting for the three pursuers.

“Took you long enough.” The voice echoed clearly throughout the room. Coven Subordinate: “There! The culprit!”

Just as they prepared to engage, Kikimora raised her hand. Unaware, she had just saved their lives.

Kikimora: “Protocol first. Read the charges.”

Retrieving the scroll tucked under their cloak, her escort hollered his voice for the criminal.

Coven Subordinate: “You are charged with arson, assault, and disturbing the peace! Stand and declare, how do you plead!?”

Eager to rise from the uncomfortable throne, the torch was the first thing to be knocked over. Setting off a domino effect of other torches until the perimeter was lit. Practically skipping, this figure made its move for the accuser.

Clear as day, Luz Noceda stood before them. “Guilty as charged. Though, you might want to add ‘driving people mad’ to those charges.”

[Four hours earlier]

The Boiling Isles was a blaze with a border of fire. As though things weren’t bad enough, spells were going off left and right. Residents casting any and all spells in a frenzy. Eda and Lilth were trying to deal with the inferno making its way to the center of town. Willow and Gus attempted to redirect the panicking masses away from hectic bombardment of random spells. Luz was scrambling to reunite with Amity. Trying to fend off the hysterical witches firing spells all over the Isles; brought a new level of madness to what she was used to.

Still no sign of a cause, Luz swiped as much paper as she could get her hands on. Quickly running out of glyphs, she kept asking herself the same question. Where were the Emperor’s coven guards? Seems like mass hysteria would be something they’d be on right away.

Luz: “Amity, where are you?”

Between dodging fire of two kinds, her biggest concern was how well the others were doing.

Eda and Lilth can take care of themselves. They might not be as strong as before. But no one should ever count those two out. Willow and Gus should be making their way to the center of town. What the heck could Amity be doing?

Mad witch in training: “Get off me!”

Just barely dodging a crate zipping past her head, Luz used an ice glyph to immobilize. This was insane and she needed to find Amity. Willow left vines to guide stragglers toward their safe zone. Luz would have to trust that Amity would follow them. Nothing left on her end, Luz decided now was the time to check on that hope.

Elsewhere, Amity was focusing on getting the younger kids out of harm’s way. Right after getting Braxas with the others, she turned right around to start searching again. Luz came from around the corner.

Amity (almost out of breath): “Luz, is that everyone?”

Luz: “I think so. Where’s Gus and Willow?”

Amity: “They can’t be far by now.”

The ground began to break open, separating the two witches once again. Tendrils sprang up from the openings.

Luz: “I think that’s what’s causing this craziness!”

Amity created a barrier for the rounded up citizens. That should keep them protected from whatever those things wanted.

Luz: “Amity!”

In that one moment, Luz was lifted into the air by a tendril. Wasting no time, Amity ran into their direction.

Amity: “Abomination, rise!”

Using her abomination to grapple Luz’s captor, she was still losing steam.

Amity: “Use one of your glyphs!” Luz: “I lost them when it picked me up!” Glancing at the floor, she saw pieces of paper drifting in the wind. She had to change tactics.

Amity: “Abomination, throw me!”

Her abomination released the beast as it positioned itself to launch its master. Amity let herself fall onto her minion, shortly before being propelled towards her captive friend.

While she was headed right for her target, this tendril was no fool. It opens just long enough to catch both of them.

Now, both witches were caught in a tight grasp. Anytime Amity tried using her fingers to cast another spell, their monstrous prison would tighten and swing violently.

Willow and Gus finally arrived, using a mixture of vines and illusions to control the situation. Luz (struggling): “I think I can get loose.” Willow tried using a vine to lower their prison. While Gus distracted the other tendrils on the scene, the focus of the people was entirely on the two witchlings above. Luz (sheepishly smiling): “Now would be really good time for a good witch Azura plot twist.” Maybe it was just her drifting out of consciousness, but even Amity found that funny.

Luz (uplifted): “Oh hey, there’s one!”

Amity couldn’t see what she was looking at. At that moment, the tendril shot them slightly up. Willow caught them in a huge leaf. Finally able to catch her breath, she tried to turn and see what cheered up Luz. But two hands grabbed her face and jerked her away. Luz was…kissing her?!

She immediately knew something was wrong. There was an awful taste in her mouth. After a short struggle, Amity broke free and gazed at a smirking Luz. An evil expression she’d never seen on her face before. Luz turned towards the captive crowd.

Luz (calling below): “Oh my titan, you love me, Amity?!”

Completely dumbfounded by what’s happening, the green haired witch just stood there; feeling a weight wearing her down. Luz (practically thundering): “Everyone, Amity Blight is in love with me! She just confessed to me, the human, Luz Noceda!” Amity was losing her balance, finally feeling the effects of running around all night.

Luz gripped her by her shoulders and turned her towards the eyes below. Waving down below, she brought herself close to Amity’s ear.

Luz (whispering): “Don’t pass out just yet! Look down there, Ami, what do you see?”

Vision blurry, she saw the figure of a crowd. And the unmistakable silhouette of Luz Noceda with Eda’s staff, standing in an alley just behind them.

Imposter Luz: “Do you see love? Acceptance?”

No… Even from way up there, she could see Luz’s face.

Luz (mouthing the words): “Oh Amity...” No…

She didn’t see either of the two. Only confusion and …a hint of pity?

It’s her vision. She’s just not seeing things correctly. Her last fading thoughts.

The imposter let go, leaving Amity to stumble off the platform. Willow tried sending another vine to catch her. But the other tendrils suddenly focused on keeping that from happening. Luz jumped on Eda’s staff and flew after her.

Real Luz (reaching out): “Almost…” Just catching it from the corner of her eye, the portal that brought her to the Boiling isles shot right for her. She evaded it but missed Amity in the process. Quickly changing course, she dove for her falling friend. Jumping off the staff gave her the right push to reach her. Free falling, she held her close, awaiting the sudden stop below. Instead, Willow and Gus collected the remains of Amity’s abomination in a huge flower. The two witches in training landed in a pool of liquid goo. Amity out cold in her arms, Luz looked up. Searching for the imposter or where her portal went? No sign of either of them.

[Present time]

“So, is this the part where you take in the human? Take me to Belos?” The guards looked at Kikimora with uncertainty. She hadn’t signaled them to capture the culprit.

Kikimora had no emotion in her voice. Kikimora: “Do you take us for fools? I am entirely aware of what you’re capable of.”

Luz returned to her seat, never losing that obvious smile. Kikimora: “I’ve faced the human before. I’ve stood within arm’s length of her. But you’ve impersonated her so well; even I can’t believe that’s not her speaking.” Belos’ personal attendant revealed a glass orb from under her robe.

Kikimora: “But using her voice won’t be enough to deceive us, Grometheus. By order of the emperor of the Boiling isles, you are under arrest. As such, creating such chaos in the Isles, calls for petrification.”

Grom stood up, bringing one finger to a cheek.

Grom(impersonating Luz): “You could do that. Or we could make a deal?” It felt like these two were the only ones in the room. But guards awaited their leader’s orders with anticipation. Kikimora( unamused): “And why would we consider that?” The lone creature’s response lacked no confidence.

Grom: “Because you fear me.” Still maintaining its disguise, the monster paced from side to side.

Grom: “I know you’ve got them on. The bands of dreams! A pretty bad thing to be wearing, especially while you’re awake. But I can’t look into your heads. I can’t see your fears with my magic. I mean, I don’t have to use magic to see that. So, still want to pretend you don’t want me on your side?”

Watching her remove her hood, a silver headband with three gems sat there on Kikimora’s head.

Kikimora(sternly): “It’s precaution, not fear.”

Grom waved its arms in dismal. Almost as though it was swatting away a bothersome insect.

Grom: “You sound like a kid playing policeman. Sorry, like a squire playing knight. Or a witchling playing headmaster?  Either way, it’s a pretty obvious excuse.”

Kikimora( losing patience): “Enough! Take her! Him?! It!” The other two parties began to move in from the sides. Grom didn’t flinch for a moment.

Grom: “And how are you going to do that without magic? The bands protect you from me, but you can’t cast any spells while wearing them.”

Raising fingers on the pincer attackers, a venom filled warning came next. Grom: “The second those come off, it’ll be all over. Not very smart, huh?

What? Has losing to an actual human made you guys dead from the neck up?”

The two assailants brought their hands underneath their masks. Once again, they were commanded from behind to stop.

Kikimora: “There’s something I wish to know. There have been no records of anything like this occurring with you, Grometheus. How are you able to have this level of consciousness?”

Looking at itself, the shape shifter couldn’t seem more impressed by the status quo. Grom: “That is the question. But we’re getting off track. And I want to make sure we’re all on the same page here. I have a plan that’ll get us both what we want.” Not only raising an eyebrow, but an important question.

Kikimora: “And your plan involves that childish chaos you unleashed? You didn’t even accomplish eliminating any members of the owl house in question. How exactly does this prove you even have a plan?”

No longer pacing, now the coven member would have undivided attention.

Grom: “If I were a weapon, I’d like to think of myself as one laced with poison. Even if the blow wasn’t fatal, the lingering effects could be. And look, you want the owl lady gone. Belos wants things to run smoothly on the Boiling Isles. You both would have order without the antics of the owl house. All you have to do is accept my deal.”

Kikimora(almost interested): “You haven’t spoken the terms of this deal.” The giddiness from the creature almost made its company forget that’s not actually Luz.

Grom: “All I need is for you to leave me in peace once this is done. That’s all I’m asking. I’m not even asking you to call off your pursuit. Just think of me as an ally.”

Closed in on their target, the two guards were now within striking distance. Grom glanced at them briefly before locking eyes with the deciding ballot. Raising her hand, she had decided. Kikimora: “I’m afraid; I cannot decide something of this importance without Emperor Belos. In the name of the Coven, you’ll have to come with us if you want your deal struck.”

Without wasting a moment, the hunters shot out their arms and chains emerged from them.

The charlatan back flipped, once again, atop its throne.

Grom: “Chains made of the same stuff as your bands, hmm? Not a smart move.” Coven subordinate: “But an effective weapon!”

Evading another attack, Grom made a leap for the torch holder on the wall. Grom (dangling with one hand): “Shame you only hit the throne. Oh well, bye. Let me know when you accept my deal.”

The chamber’s floor crumpled as soon as their unintended target was destroyed. With the bands still on, magic wasn’t going to save them. Cursing falling for such a ploy, they plummeted alongside the debris.

Grom finally returned to a more gooey form and traveled alongside the wall. 

Knowing full well, a fall like that one wouldn’t kill them. Grom: “Ah the old ‘hollow ground underneath the throne’ trick. I didn’t even think that would work.”

Finally back at the cavern entrance, the muck fraud resumed with its form of Luz.

Grom: “Now, first stop, the owl house.”

Author’s note: I wasn’t able to make a candidate for this prompt, as per the rules. It goes without saying, this is just for shits and giggles. I’m not posting this to try and win the challenge.

“Gossip needn't be false to be evil - there's a lot of truth that shouldn't be passed around.”-Frank A. Clark

I did however want to make something inspired by the quote above. It seemed appropriate for the theme.