#she's painting his nails red and blue i swear this is not a stretch

[kitty-unlimited]

@superfamilyweek Day 4: Red and Blue

They're having a sleepover, doing eachother's hair and talking about girls

[yandere-wishes]

༻⋆Little Red Riding Hood You Know More Than You Should⋆༺

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Capitano recognizes your ancient name before he recognizes you. Ororon thinks it's about time to confess his feelings to his childhood friend. You just wanted to protect your homeland.

⁀➷ Warnings: Yandere Behavior, Stalking, Possessiveness, Reader has a pyro vision.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ Tejano Blue By CAS

⋆ ˚｡⋆ Bless your heart, make you part of my life forever ~ CAS

.✦── °❀⋆ .🔥.⋆❀°── .✦

It had started with Ororon.

With the Chrysanthemum he delicately weaved into your hair.

Red red red like the vision that burns at your hip.

Red like the boy-heart you wished to carve out.

It had ended with the Capitano.

With verglas weaving across your arms from his most intimate touch.

Blue, blue, blue like the creature that claimed to know you.

Blue like the veins that harbor such a melancholy legacy.

The chipped wood of the basket pierces your palm, tiny splinters pricking at soft flesh. You don't fully register the twinge; the pain is too silken, too delicate. Instead, you tighten your fist around the wooden handle daring the splinters to puncture, to draw blood. At least then you'd have a reason to visit Ororon, a reason to pry open his door and interrupt his precious isolation.

You'd like to forget about him.

The ignorant boy with the mismatched eyes.

Leave him to rot in his secluded cabin.  

But it's all so hard to shake the saccharine memories of the all too lanky boy who used to hold your hand as you played hide and seek with Iktomisaurs in the forest.

Granny Itztli had requested ingredients for a ritual sermon taking place two moons from now. Nightshades and Quenepa Berrys and sand from the cost. "Have you talked to Ororon recently?" Granny asks, her brows furrowed in annoyance or worry or some other emotion too masked to fully read.  You shake your head, gingerly plucking the ingredients from your basket and sprawling them across the table. "He hasn't been returning any of my letters, or even answering the tribesman's requests for his vegetables. I swear if that boy-"

You can feel her anger slipping out, the tendrils of her powers lashing at the air, slithering across the walls. You gulp, grasp tightening once more against your basket's handle. The wood scraps at your skin grounding you as you let out a shaky breath. "I'll check on him for you granny," you blurt out trying to plaster a desperate smile across your face. Citlali's eyes soften as she looks at you taking in your taut stance. "I'd always wished for him to pick you as his bride." She mused hand waving the air as if to dispel her anger like smoke. "you'd have been the perfect wife for my foolish grandson, someone to keep an eye on him and his whimsy wills of inanity." She sighs ushering you to the door. "Still I suppose it's not too late."

You turn on your heels defiance ripe on your tongue. Ororon had once been a dear friend, a brother. And while the memories are wrapped in golden velvet and honey. You'd much rather pluck the nails from your fingers than marry that weirdo. But before the protest could be launched the door is solemnly slammed in your face.

You fasten the cloak along your neck, pull the hood over your head

before making your way to the lone cabin in the woods. Skipping along the broken road swinging your empty basket.

The cabin itself is petit and serene, a pretty little heap of wood and spray paint with its renowned vegetable garden stretching the whole diameter. "Ororon," you call out, surprised at how bitter his name tastes. Rotton, almost forgotten. "Ororon," you knock at the door.

Four knocks.

Four pounds.

All accompanied by the bitter name spilling from behind your teeth.

But there is no answer, nothing outside the peaceful lull of the breeze and the distant shrikes of Yumkasaurs.

Nothing.

Well, maybe it's for the best.

You'd have shown him your blistered palm should he have answered. Shown him the blood and silently prayed he'd hold your hand and bandage your wound with all the tenderness of an eight-year-old boy bandaging his best friend's bleeding knee.

It's only when you've started back on the road, heading towards the grand stadium, that you hear something—an icy omen whispering along the horizon. You look around, greeted by nothing but Natlan's nature. Slowly, you start to leave the path, trudging through grass and marching up the little hills, following the distant chill in the air.

What was it Granny always said about straying off the path?

Something about tragedy and trouble waiting beyond the trees.

Only this time, trouble -or rather tragedy- lays behind a set of rocks, half a mile from the cabin. That's when you finally see them. The chill in the air has grown harsher here, biting at your bare arms. You pull your hood further over your head, wrapping the rest of the cape around yourself in a bid for warmth. From the rock you've concealed yourself behind, you can hear two men speak.

Ororon stands before a man, no not a man. Such a human word could not describe the terrifying thing that loomed outside the sun's reach.

Your ears perk at the low timbre of his growl. The monster spews blasphemy, sacrilege, against your dear archon. Calling her a coward for not using the gnosis, calling her inept.

You feel his words cutting through you, lacrations running deep. Your body is on fire your vision boling by your side. What's worst is that Ororon listens, humming along in acknowledgment. You can taste the molten anger stinging the roof of your mouth, feel the embers burning your tongue. Your hand covers your mouth, nails sinking into your cheek to avoid permitting the frustration to break free and blowing your cover.

You turn swiftly, using the cover of rocks and trees to shadow your escape.

Desperately dashing for the path that'll lead you back to your village. Granny Itztli and the tribe leader must hear of this. They must know that Ororon has joined the Fatui and is planning to steal the Archon's gnosis.

The problem, however, may have been the red cape you'd draped yourself in, its bright color catching the wrong sun rays at the wrong time. Luminous enough to catch the captain's attention.

You feel the world slipping, sunlight giving way to a ghoulish purple glow. Your feet hit the battered pavement of the path, right before the world turns to black.

You scream just as something pulls you away...

You've been here before, several times in fact. This is the night kingdom or at least an astral realm within the night kingdom. Your body -your real body- is probably laying limp in the grass being licked by some saurian.

"(y/n), what are you doing here?" Ororon's voice is muffled, distant. A cloud scraping across the rougher edges of the sky. His ghastly apprehension hovers behind you, you can feel his chilled breath on your neck.

You try to speak, to answer. But the words never leave your mouth. You must remember that the shadow world has rules. That you can not move with your legs or speak with your tongue. You form the words like bubbles floating in the air. Waiting for them to pop, to unleash your voice amongst the gloom.

"I was looking for you, granny's worried. Apparently, you've disappeared."

His nails scrape at your neck. Fitting the delicate bones between the cusp of his palm. "But I'm right here" he whispers in your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Sorry, I wasn't there to greet you. I've been...busy".

"Ororon" The voice echoes across the cavern, loud and disturbing. You feel frost leak from every syllable. Your eyes widen as the black-clad monster marches forward body rigid embodying authority and discipline in every move.

Is this how everyone from Snezhnaya looks?

Taut and stiff and malicious?

Draped in furs and armor.

Ominous and cruel.

"This is my friend (y/n) we grew up together. Isn't she cute Capitano?" Ororon ends the statement with a mock peck to your neck. Despite its fleeting nature you still wince at the invasion.

You don't recall Ororon being so bold, so satirizing. Has the folly of the fatui bled into him? Rotted his essence and painted it anew?

"Get rid of her, we haven't the time to waste on such..." The man, no the nightmare. Stops in front of you. His bulky clothes remind you of the Tatankasaurs that roam the sandy southwest.

The captain's mask is sheer black. Murkey candance that hides his mysterious visage. But you notice the jerky way his head tilts down the way you can't escape the strange pierce of his unseable eyes.

"Do I know you" it's phrased as an order, a demnad.

Tell me what you are, what you're supposed to mean to me.

But there is no answer to greet it. Nothing apart from an unsteady silence. You can not know this ice-cold man. From behind you Ororon stiffens, "Do you know the captain." he asks, a silver of betrayal lacing his words. You only shake your head, narrowing your eyes to try and pry beyond the abyss of his mask.

Capitano's hand grips at your fingers pulling them up to his mask. Your heart stops as you see him bow his head, the cold of his helmet biting into your flesh. You hear the kiss like an arrow piercing the ever-looming eeriness of the night kingdom.

Capitano utters your name.

Rolls it around his mouth trying to savor the nostalgia.

Trying to crack open every syllabus and taste its familiarity.

"(y/n)..."

Your body lays limb amongst the grass, from atop the green hill Capitano observes your sleeping form. His eyes trace every curve and crevasse of your body jotting each detail to memory.

You look like so ethereal like this. Blood red amid the green and gold of the prairie. The humor of it all isn't lost on him after all he's partaken in more than his fair share of carnage. And that's exactly what you look like, a beautiful corpse laying in her puddle of blood. A macabre laceration layed upon Natlan's corse.

The sun beats down. Its rays too warm and treasonous.

It's only then that Capitano realizes where he's seen you before.

This exact scene, the blood pooling from beneath, the body lying amidst the grass, the sun blessing the slayed warrior in its light.

He knows you...

You don't remember waking up. Don't recall commanding your stiff muscles to move. Nor do you recall the first sight your wry eyes landed upon.

All you remember is running.

Blurred greens and reds of the scenery rushing by.

Granny must know of this.

The tribe must know of this.

Ororon is a traitor. A conspirator in a plot against Mavurika.

You're not quite sure why your heart stings when you think of this.

Your mouth is dry, ash coating your lips as Citlali glares down at you. Ororon's face flashes behind your eyes. You see him everywhere. Hear his gentle voice shushing you. Your ears are ringing, his voice whispering how much he's missed you, how much he wants you by his side once more.

Citlali says something, you think she's scolding you for traversing the pathway. She's gone in the next blink, essence lingering in a spinning room. Ororon kneels in front of you. No, not Ororon just some spectre wearing his face.

Or maybe it's his astral projection. Maybe he can't let you utter a word of what you saw.

"Just keep quiet darling. I promise this will all make sense soon." His fingers spark when they grace your cheek. Solid and spirit all at once. You try to touch his hand, to sink the sparks inside you, to feel Ororon once more. Instead, your finger collides with your own soft flesh.

The colors are chipping away.

Someone is calling your name.

Ororon or Citlali?

Maybe they've always been the same.

Why is the room spinning?

Why is it so dark...

You shouldn't be out. The sun is too harsh, merciless. You ring your palm across your basket's handle letting the friction rub the flesh raw.

Granny had warned you to stay inside. To avoid Ororon and whatever else you'd seen. But you can't let this go, the words may die upon your tongue but there must be evidence hidden somewhere. Evidence that you can present to the pyro archon, evidence that could save everything.

"Did you really miss me that much?" His voice is sharper than any arrow from his bow. Ororon stands blocking your path the captain hovering beside him.

Weren't you always told the path would be safe?

Capitano reaches out, metal fingers wrapping around your fragile wrist he pulls you to him, dark mask peering beyond you. Trying to piece you together. From behind you feel Ororon's lips sneaking up your neck. You scream, a shriveled sound. "Didn't you come all this way just to see us?" Ororon asks between open-mouthed kisses, you writher between their bodies desperate to escape. Tears flowed from your shiny eyes.

You're so pretty when you cry Ororon feels bad for admitting that. But he can't help but admire how innocent and helpless you look, trapped between two monsters.

It's only now that he notices your red hood is adorned with embroidered Chrysanthemum, for a moment Ororon thinks it has something to do with flowers he used to braid into your hair. Back when he'd been too young to fully understand destiny and you'd been too young to understand legacy.

"I came to find evidence of your betrayal." You spit, free hand reaching into your basket to try to find your ancient name. Tears trickle from your eyes as the captain leans closer. Your fingers finally graze the forged feather and you pry it out, holding it to your chest, feeling its power coursing through you.

Your elbow collides harshly with Ororon's rib, as he tumbles backward you gain enough space to sidekick the captain. Only for it to be blocked by his iron-clad hand. The metal makes your bones ring a sharp pain that leaves your leg numb.

"You bear an ancient name?" Capitano asks, skeptical. You roll your eyes despite your better judgment. Capitano releases your wrist, instead reaching out to try and grab your ancient name. In the millisecond of freedom, you stalk backward before sprinting back to the tribe. Your basket forgotten at the captain's feet.

"she bears the ancient name Ayizu," Ororon says, still clutching his side.

Capitano swallows the information. Letting the sharp edges nick at his throat. He'd had been uncertain before despite all the parallels.

But now the shock was rolling through him like lightning bolts. That's why you looked so familiar. Not only did you bare Ayizu's name but there was no doubt in Capitano's mind that you were one of his descendants.

The captain chuckles a mirthless noise. The irony feels like a blistering burn blooming upon his rotting flesh. "She's quite loyal." he begins, blacked gaze traveling to Ororon. "She'd make a valuable asset in our quest to save Natlan. Fetch her for me will you Ororon?" It's nothing less than an order one that Ororon may be a bit too keen on fulfilling.

"Oh and Ororon, we need to start you on a training agenda. I fear you are the most pathetic warrior Natlan has ever seen."

Ororon's eyes sunken before traversing up the captain's imposing form.

"Yes sir" he mumbles, biting his lips to avoid moaning at the deliciously sharp pain you've gifted him.

It's dark again,

You let the sharp wood of your basket cut into your palm. Relishing in the familiar feeling as blood mars the wooden handle. When did your basket return? You could have sworn you'd abandoned it with your attackers,

The path beneath your feet is cracked and broken. Smeared in ice and ectoplasm. Still, you walk forward into the abyss. There's nowhere else to go.

You expected them to be there. To see their towering forms amidst the darkness. Instead, you see them lounging between the blacked boulders.

Soldiers fresh from the fight. You don't enquire about their endeavors about the horrors you're sure they've inflected upon your land. But before you can fully walk past Capitano grabs your wrist and pulls you into his lap. "Stop" You struggle to break free, only for him to grab your chin and force your eyes onto his faceless visage. "So you're the descendent of my old friend? The inheritor of his noble name." You feel bile creeping up your throat. "Don't insult my ancestor, he'd never associate with the likes of you." you spite.

Capitano chuckles and signs, pulling his mask up a smidge to reveal decayed flesh. You gasp, an opportunity he ceases to pull you into a deep kiss, teeth biting and tearing at your soft lips, his holed tongue running over your teeth. You try to scream to cry, suffocating from the floral-scented rot. When the captain finally pulls back you run your fingers over pained lips smearing the blood across your cheek and chin.

"You should smile more" Ororon teases nipping at your ear until you wince, his hands move up and down your hips squeezing every so often. He's never been this bold before. You blame the Fatuis staring down at you. Blame the Outlander and his weird ways, somehow the irony is utterly lost on you.

"Please just let me go" you beg, your body is on fire your vision pulsing once more. "You're a captain surely you must understand why I'm so eager to protect my people from you?" Ororon laughs, littering your cheek with tiny kisses. "I understand," Capitano responds, his fingers dabbing your blood-covered lips. "I'm desperate to save Natlan too." He brings the red-coated digit to his mouth, sucking softly.

"We all want to protect Natlan" Ororon chips in. "That's why you should join us, honor your ancient name." You shake your head, almost as if you're shaking the nightmare away. "There is no honor in what you're doing."

You feel something around your neck. Metalic fingers wrapping tightly around your throat. Clutching tighter and tighter. With his other hand, the Captain removes his mask.

You scream...

The room is cold, freezing.

Your calloused palm squeezes trying to feel the handle of your wooden basket. When your nails only dig into your own skin, you awaken, head darting trying to find your precious basket.

It's on the table...

You don't have a table by your bed.

Beside you, someone tightens their hold on your waist pulling you into an icy stiff chest. Captiano's breath is cold, his voice gruff with sleep as he whispers little adorations into your ear. You're only now realizing Ororon lying in front of you, his lithe fingers playing with your neck.

No not your neck. There's something wrapped around your throat, no one the cold was unbearable, this "necklace" must be made of pure cyro. "You look so pretty like this." Ororon mumbles, daring to connect his lips to yours in a sheepish, sloppy attempt at a kiss. You wrangle your head to the side breaking the pathetic kiss. Behind you, you feel Capitano's chest rumble in laughter.

"Really Ororon must I teach you everything?" Capitano pushes Ororon's head roughly until his lips are on yours, "Open your mouth" he commands. To which both of you obey not knowing who he's referring to. Slowly Ororon permits his tongue to wander past your lips and into your mouth. Satisfied Capitano begins to suckle and kiss your neck, his sharp teeth effortlessly breaching skin.

"I know you don't believe me when I say, I'm here to save Natlan." Capitano whispers. "But I helped your Ancestor defend this land once, and I shall do it again." Capitano sits up stiffly, his hand on your shoulder using ice to keep you in place. "The war with the Abyss is starting soon. You'll be safe here while Ororon and I make the final preparations." He sighs fully turning to you.

For the first time, you see the rot and decay that has marred his once gorgeous face. You gulp, swallowing your screams, letting his words sink in like the ice chaining you. Capitano pulls himself from the bed, making his way to the door. Ororon gives you a final kiss before also retreating from the bed and going to stand by the captain.

"If we survive this, I don't intend to take you to Snezhnaya. Frankly, I don't think either of you could survive the cold." He jokes, and you notice it's the first time his serious icy facade has cracked. "You will be safe here with Ororon and I'll visit you as much as my duties permit." strange how his words almost, almost sounded like 'I love you' muttered in a foreign tongue enclosed in ice. Something impossible to thaw out.

"I'm sorry about this darling," Ororon mutters as he follows the captain out. "But we'll be back soon." He offers you a soft smile before closing the door. One that makes your heart melt. Instead of a kidnapper, you see the little boy who used to own your heart.

The door closes leaving you to bask in all the glory of your doom.

.✦── °❀⋆ .🔥.⋆❀°── .✦

Apologies this is definitely not my best work but I just wanted to get something out for these two. May end up writing something better later on.

💜Tags: @definitely-asexual-volcano @fujisworld @kudoaii @savsxz @fantasyhopperhea @misscoolisback123 @army-of-inspirited-onces @lorkai @lavandulawrites @kazudare @s1mppp @onceapirateprincess @lovelive-animequeen1029 @trashpandaperson @rhain-things @milktea-coffeelady

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ Double The Fangs, Double The Fun

➳ Summary: Daryl and Scud are regulars at the bar you work at, but they're only really there for you. One night while chatting, you injure yourself, so they help you home to heal up (Vamp!Daryl & Vamp!Scud x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: idfk sometime, somewhere, no apocalypse (this is a crossover fic for smut lets be real)

➳ Word count: 5.5k (3k of it is smut)

➳ C/W: VAMPIRES ‼️‼️, minor wound, blood (duh), biting/vampire feeding, double penetration, hints of Scud's mommy kink

➳ A/N: I wrote doc title for this as “DTFx2” cuz of the lettering, not even realizing the “down-to-fuck” till later, plus it being 2 partners – I cooked on this title. BUT ANYWAY I AM FUELING THE VAMP!DARYL FIRE AND VAMP!SCUD TOO BECAUSE THIS IS A PLAGUE AND I AM ILL AND I WILL SPREAD IT

You stretched your arms up over your head, leaning forward against the counter in front of you. It was another slow weeknight, no customers present, hindered by the fact the bar was tucked away in some deader part of the city. It was pretty boring, but you got paid for kinda just diddleling around a lot of the time. You rhythmically tapped your fingertips against the surface, but straightened up when the door jingled open.

“Fuck, I was about to start praying you two would show up. ‘Ts borin' as shit in here,” You laughed as two familiar faces walked in from the night; Daryl and Scud. They were your regulars, stopping by most any time you were on shift. And you heard from coworkers sometimes they'd show up, see that you weren't there, and just leave.

You never found it creepy though, it wasn't like that. They were always very respectful towards you, kind of chivalrous, but not obnoxiously. They'd always buy a drink and tip heavy, or just straight up give you money – and would scare off the actually creepy drinkers: the one's that'd prey on a woman as if she was frail. You didn't require them, having pepper spray and a gun beneath the counter, but they gave you extra security. And we're good company.

Scud, who you knews real name was Josh – the more ‘loverboy’ one of the two – popped by most nights after work. He was really sweet, having grown a soft spot for him and letting him bend the rules; like allowing him to smoke a joint, or three, inside, so long as he shared them with you. He claimed he was a sort of engineer, which you found a little surprising given you'd never seen him without the skunky smell of weed wafting around his figure, but it's not like it mattered to you.

Daryl, on the other hand, was much more reserved, and you'd be lying if you said that didn't intrigue you. He appeared older, and more of a rarity, seeming to drift in and out of town: which made sense given that scratchy, deep southern accent he carried.

“Ain't gon’ pass up seein’ ya, moonshine,” Daryl grinned as he sauntered up to take a seat, Scud following right behind and taking the one opposite him. ‘Moonshine’ is what he always called you, given you were a bartender, and it was ironic because you never saw either of them till after sundown. “Shift slow?”

“Painfully,” You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Ion even know how we get enough profit to keep this place open. Not sure anyone in our staff remembers the last time we saw the owner in person. I swear this is some money laundering scheme.”

“‘Least your gettin’ paid, yeah? My boss don't even got me onna regular schedule,” Scud tisked, reaching into the pocket of his large, layered jacket and pulling out the container he kept his joints in. “Ya wanna J?”: To which you nodded and he passed you one. Daryl's observant gaze watched your every movement, as he typically did.

“Ya get yer nails done, darlin’?” He asked, squinting his pale blue eyes and setting his hand out as you lit the joint.

“Hm?” Your eyes flicked to him, understanding, and you set your palm in his hand so he could see. Pressed to your nail beds were coffin acrylics, painted a rich red, the gloss making them almost bloody. “Jus’ got ‘em done this morning. Figured if ‘m gonna be sittin’ here twiddling my thumbs half the time they might as well look good.”

“Looks perfect on ya.” Your gazes locked together for a moment, hypnotic in a way as his irises seemed to pulse, then suddenly shift down. He loomed closer and ran his thumb over your fingers, appreciating the gleaming texture that reflected in the dim light.

“Real pretty momma's,” Scud added as he took a long drag of his smoke, holding it for a moment before skillfully exhaling in a long plume that dissipated and began to fill the small space with a haze.

“Mm, thank you boys,” You turned a little, offering a bashful smile at their endless complimenting – they showered you with affectionate comments every time they came in. “Either of you want somethin’? It can be on the house, think the workers drink more than customers.”

“‘Ll take'ah whiskey – ‘nd m’payin’ ya anyway, angel,” Daryl replied, fishing for his wallet and passing you bills that more than doubled the price of a shot. Frankly you felt bad sometimes, like you were taking his money, but gave up a long time ago with trying to decline. He insisted.

As you went to grab the iconic bottle of Jack Daniel's off the shelf behind you, your elbow stuck out a bit too far and knocked over a large glass you'd been using for water, sending it to the floor where it shattered. “Ugh, never complain that you're bored at work. Fate'll always make ya clean.”

You quickly poured the auburn grog into a shot and slid it across the wood countertop to Daryl, dropping to your knees to pick up the larger shards.

“Fuck!” You seethed, accidentally slicing open the palm of your hand by sweeping it over the edge of a fragment in the other, your joint nearly falling from where you'd pinched it between your lips. Both men bounded from their stools to look over, simultaneously uttering ‘Ya alrigh's?''s. You half-clutched your fist and rose to be level again, hitching your breath with a small whine as striking pain electrified your nerves.

Blood quickly began to spill from the gash, running down your wrist and upper forearm before dripping to the floor a couple times as Daryl snapped to grab a clean rag from behind the bar so you could hold pressure, moving so fast he registered as just a whoosh. As your eyes were shut in pain, theirs were blown open, locked onto the crimson that tinted your skin. They could see the microscopic way it gushed a bit more from every beat of your heart.

Tendrils of that sweet, mind warping scent curled through the air and around the pair's bodies. God it smelled so damn good – you smelled so good. They didn't wish you harm, but they'd just been agonizingly waiting to someday, by some chance, get to smell the life-giving fluid that pumped through your veins without the blockage your skin created, keeping the complete experience inside of you. And they could only dream of getting to taste it…

You spun back to face them, and swore for a second, the color of both their blue eyes had altered to match the plasma soaking into the grey washcloth in your grip – their faces flat like they hadn't eaten in years and you just baited the idea of a gourmet feast. But once you blinked, they were back to azure, concern etched across eyebrows and frowns. Maybe it was just the shitty brilliance of the bar.

“‘M fine, jus’ being mindless I guess. Scud, how the hell are ya smokin’ and working with wires ‘n soldering shit,” You shook your head, blaming your incident on the brain fog from weed, although it was a poor excuse given it should not have taken effect that fast. Perhaps you were just embarrassingly locked on auto-pilot.

“Ya look like yer bleedin’ bad, princess. Lemme see.” Daryl beckoned you over and took your hand. His body tensed, that dangerous feeling of his canines extending creeping up. It took all he had to not press his mouth to you. He knew better, he had control. You let him remove the rag, examining the cut and finding it to be quite deep, him stating it might have to be closed

“We don't got any medical stuff here ‘sides maybe a few bandaids. I'd be surprised if anybody else came in ‘ere tonight so I'll just close up ‘n deal with it home. Sorry to cut our chat time short guys…” You gave a half frown, taking an unsteady inhale and trying to mask the aching in your extremity. You smothered the joint, enjoyment ruined.

“Don't gotta apologize mama's. Wantcha to be okay,” Scud commented, mirroring your expression. Looking between him and Daryl, you felt there was some synergy connecting them, like they were communicating despite both staring at you.

“Why don't we take ya home, mebbe have me patch tha fer ya, hm?” Daryl suggested, readjusting his leather jacket as he tilted his head slightly.

“Oh, no. I don't wanna bother either of ya with that…”

“‘Ts no bother, sugar. We wanna make sure you're safe. ‘Ts late, dark, ‘nd you're bleedin’. Don't want anythin’ bad happening to ya,” Scud explained, his every word ending on a sort of mewl as he plucked his joint from his mouth to speak clearly.

“Alright – just cause I know you two will follow me to check anyway.” You grabbed your things, Daryl and Scud helping to close up the bar so you didn't further injure yourself, then leaving with you. It was reasonable for them to come with, and this wouldn't be the first time. And this wasn't the safest part of town, so it wouldn't hurt to have them.

❥-》》—————➣

When you returned to your apartment, both of them praised your designing of the interior, having not been inside before. To you it wasn't much of anything special, but again, it was just in their nature to say kind things to you.

You nodded Daryl in the direction of your bathroom so he could grab some ointment and gauze, going to sit on the couch as Scud plopped beside you. You easily could've nursed it yourself, but if there was anything you really knew about Daryl, it was his tendency to always be doing favors – and not letting you decline.

“Y'know… I know a way tah make that heal faster than any dressings could,” Scud broke the silence, dragging his gaze over your frame, and landing on your hand where you still held the soiled rag. He couldn't fucking take it anymore. He didn't have the control that Daryl did.

“What do you mean?” You now faced him, confused at the way his breathing seemed to grow a bit heavier, chest puffing further out despite his lazy posture. But he straightened some, scooting closer to you and reaching for your hand.

“Just trust me on this…” He was salivating, bottom lip practically trembling with anticipation. He was so close, access to your fresh blood right there. God how he ached for it every time he saw your beautiful face, just so damn entranced by you. He tried not to completely lose his mind as he neared your palm.

“Um… yer gonna get it infected doin’ that.”

“Won't.” And his mouth hovered right above it.

“Seriously, Scud, what are you doing?” Now you were concerned, tempted to call Daryl back. Was this some weird sex thing? His way of trying to seduce you? Taking ‘kiss my boo-boo to make it feel better’ a bit too far. But you sensed this… energy, radiating off of him, drawing out your naïve trait of curiosity. Something felt different about him, although you guess it always did – but only now could you really perceive it, having him so close. “What are you? ”

Scud's eyes flicked up to yours, blue flipped across the scale of hues to match the color you'd caught a glimpse of at the bar – the color of your blood, and those flawless new nails. “Whadda ya think I am, sweetheart?”

As his lips peeled back with a grin, you could see the lengthy, pin-sharp fangs that descended from the roof of his mouth, glistening with his famine. Your mouth fell open, pupils dilating as realization worked through your brain. Oh shit. Oh, shit..? You didn't speak, but didn't know what to say anyway.

He chuckled at your reaction. “Jus’ relax, mama's.” Finally. His tongue darted out, dragging a long lick over the front of your wound, causing you to wince and jerk a little. It didn't particularly hurt, but was so odd at the start. Scud held back a moan, but couldn't help his remarks: “Mmm, you taste so good… bettah than I ever imagined…”

You swallowed thickly, watching him work saliva over your tender flesh, and lapping away any remnants of the blood that ran down your arm. He stared intensely into your eyes as he drew a long, excessively slow lick up your limb and back to the wound. You felt it begin to radiate, an unfamiliar warmth centralizing over the cut but spreading out into your entire palm.

He brushed his lips against your fingers with a featherlite kiss, and reluctantly pulled away, letting you watch branches of skin connect together from both sides, color quickly shifting back to your normal tone, and your hand completely unscathed. You flexed your tendons, feeling it for yourself. It was completely healed, a two-week time lapsing into under a minute.

“Why'd ya show ‘er.” Daryl's voice was stern, silently standing behind the couch and startling you as you whipped around. You should've figured – it wouldn't take that long to find simple first aid in your bathroom.

“Known ‘er for long enough, D. Why let'er suffer with some gash if we can just heal it for her?” Scud replied and shrugged innocently. But his wording was key; ‘we’.

“You're both vampires,” You nodded dryly as Daryl grumbled something under his breath and came around the couch to sit on the other side of you. Now the ‘moonshine’ was really ironic. “Okay… I assume if you were gonna drain me ya woulda done it by now.”

“Don't tempt me, baby,” Scud smirked, and Daryl shot him a harsh glare. “What? Sure she appreciates the healin’ at least!”

“Yeah, I do… but it's weirdly intimate, no? Just, wetly runnin’ yer tongue all over someone, gathering saliva on their skin, tastin’ the irony remnants of their blood-”

“Quit talkin’ like that,” Daryl hissed, your sight passing back to him, watching his adam's-apple bob and his jaw tense. His eyes reddened as well, and it dawned on you how teasing your choice of dialogue must've been for them.

“Or keep goin’. Like hearin’ your gorgeous voice say such pretty words,” Scud wet his lips, volume just above a whisper. You felt trapped between two sides of a spectrum, both equally covet… and you were way more into it than you would ever want to admit. Your jaw laxed with a weary breath, mind wandering further ahead than you liked it to. “But you're right, can be real intimate.” His voice dropped lower as he neared you, keeping sights intertwined.

“You're torturing me momma's… pleas’... would give anythin’ to feel ya,” He almost whimpered, puppy dog eyes peering up at you. “He would too, he's jus’ a lil’ more shy.”

It'd be the fattest lie of your life to say you didn't find him attractive, both of them. Closing the door behind you some nights after they'd walked you home, tempted to just bring them inside. How many times you muttered dirty words as your legs tangled in your bedsheets and you touched yourself, imagining how they'd sound in Scud's whiny hitches, or Daryl's gravelly grunts…

You reached up, taking Scud's chin in the light hold of your acrylics and bringing his mouth to yours. He directly melted, turning to puddy from that alone and cravingly dabbing your lips with his tongue. When you pulled back, he tried to follow, pining for more. But you wanted to be fair, and switched to the other man.

Daryl looked like he didn't know what to do, that effort of displaying confidence broken the second the gate he'd been waiting outside of for so long actually opened. But a quick ‘C'mere’, and the curling of your pointer finger brought him to you expeditiously, rough lips chafing over your moisted ones. He shoved away his groan, not quite ready for that yet.

“This ain't gonna stop at kissin’, right?” You checked on an exhale, both their eyes boring into you from either plane, the patterns of their breathing reworking themselves. Dropping it here would be teasing you now.

“S’ain't gon’ stop less ya want it to, moonshine,” He rasped, irises captivating and luring you back to him, clawed hand coming to his cheek – that made the groan slip. He inhaled sharply, ardently guiding his tongue into your mouth, which definitely made Scud jealous.

The engineer brought his hands to your waist, toying with the seams of your shirt as Daryl harshly tugged you closer to him, gaining momentum, growing hungrier. He explored the entire cavity of your mouth, feeling the heat of your gums, the smoothness of your teeth in comparison to his canines, and drew a moan from your throat, hints of a smile crinkling.

“Yer not good at hidin’ whatcha want, honeysuckle,” The southerner purred, trailing down to your jawline as Scud's lips pressed to the nape of your neck. You weren’t sure if he could tell by your body language, or was able to read your mind or something; all the near whorish thoughts running through your psyche.

“Then you should know how long I've thought about this.”

Daryl immediately hooked his strong arms under your thighs, shoving Scud back to stand up off the couch, your legs instinctively latching around his torso as he started to leave a hickey on your neck and find his way to your bedroom.

Scud awkwardly stood behind for a second, shyly glancing to the floor, feeling literally and figuratively pushed aside by the other's dominance. “C'mon Scuddy,” You mouthed, and he looked like he came in pants right there – hurdling to track after you.

Daryl roughly threw you onto the edge of your bed, simultaneously ripping your shirt up over your head. He reached down for the button of your jeans, quickly popping it out and tearing them off, leaving you in just your lacey, red bra and panties.

“Jeez, you ‘nd fuckin’ red, woman.” He bordered on a growl, sliding off his jacket and tossing it to the floor. You sat upright on the rim the mattress, aiding Scud in dropping his many layers, but he teetered like he just wanted to fuck himself senseless with all it still on.

Both them now shirtless, you raked your nails down their chest, taking extra notice to follow the lightning-like scars carved into Scud's abdomen to your left. You let out a breathy curse at their defined v-lines and mouthwateringly sexy happy trails, discarding Daryl's belt, and gently cupping his pulsing erection through his jeans – the same through Scud's cargos.

One twitched, then the other, and you chuckled. “You two really want me that bad, huh?” You questioned, beaming up through your lashes with a flirty smirk: but that mischievous temping simmered seeing the pure lust on their features. They looked like they were gonna eat you alive, and honestly… you wouldn't mind it.

You undid their pants to drop them down, and with some sort of unspoken permission translating between the three of you, they pounced forward, resistance snapping like twigs. Scud hauled your body up the bed and instantaneously found your lips, already gasping into your mouth. His hands each found one of your breasts, fondling and pawing impatiently through your bra.

Daryl grabbed your hips, tugging you back down a little and drawing a wet lick from the hem of your panties up your navel, holding you to him as your spine arched. He kissed and sucked at the delicate skin on your pelvis and inner thighs, leaving behind litters of those gentle bruises on the surface, spotting across the curves of your body. His fangs grazed you as he worked, a persistent reminder of what a feral vampire could just take from you – but he was a humble man, and prefered to give.

You directed Scud to strip your bra, given he'd basically lost all ability to function the second your clothes were off, and even worse once he was on you. Now with your chest fully out, he was gone. He greedily sucked one nipple into his mouth, kneading the other like a cat, while Daryl curled a finger around the hem of your panties, deliberately running from side to side before he suddenly ripped them away – literally ripped. “Promise ‘ll buy ya new ones, babydoll.”

Whatever deeply guttural noise that erupted from you when Daryl's tongue made contact with your cunt was everything but holy. Your hips bucked up into his face so rapidly it almost caught him off guard, his palms splayed out on your thighs and his mouth latched onto your clit. He sucked in rapid pumps, before trawling down then back up and spreading your folds. He lapped up every bit of your pooled wetness, taking a deep inhale and the hidden claws in his fingertips nearing shooting out as his toes curled.

“Fuck! Yer pussy smell's'so fuckin’ good.” His words came out as near snarls, reverberating against your core. Should the view of him not have been obscured by Scud, you're sure you would've came at the sight of him so deeply intoxicated by just the scent of you. “‘Nd tastes so goddamn lovely.”

“‘Ts not fair, man, ah wanna taste ‘er-”

“Nah. Ya got ‘er hand, pussy's mine.” Now he was snarling, possessive crimson eyes stabbing into the other man as he'd turned to look back at him, burying himself deeper into your cunt and earning another wild moan. Scud frowned a little, but you brought your hands to his hips and readjusted him to be sitting on your chest, legs on either side of your body.

“Don't worry, baby.” And you rolled down his boxers so his dick was free: fully hard, tip swollen up and flushed with color, absolutely weeping for you, and it bobbed with a twitch. You wrapped your hand around the base, giving a few pressurized strokes as he bowed forward over your head and straight up whimpered in your ear, aching and pulsing and starved of touch and attention.

“Oh-.. God, momma's… t’so good…” He wove his fingers through your hair to tug lightly at the roots and anchor himself. But the second you put your tongue on him, he jerked forward and shoved into your mouth, cumming abruptly. He couldn't help it, you were; “Jus’ so warm…”

Still you swallowed it down, swiveling the tip of your tongue along the underside of his head, prolonging his high. You weren't surprised; with how frenzied he was, acting like he'd been edged for far too long – which you supposed he had, based on how he talked earlier – you pegged him for the kind to cum fast. He probably wanted you to actually peg him too.

Daryl tipped a domino by chuckling at the early orgasm, the sound waves making you moan around Scud's cock, which in return made him slide a bit deeper again. Daryl started to hum, and removed one hand from your thigh to slip two girthy fingers into you, curling them up and pressing into that sensitive spot in your walls. He focused his mouth on your clit, drawing it in with suction while he rapidly wagged his tongue, soon pumping his fingers in and out of you, and your moans picked up.

The shallow edge of Scud's claws inched further out and held your skull, careful to not scrape into your skin, but exigent nonetheless. His breathing descended into ragged heaving against the side of your head as you worked his cock like you knew every little thing that got him going.

“Getch'yer dick outta her mouth so Ah can hear ‘er cum,” Daryl barked, breaking contact from you for just a moment. Scud groaned, wanting so badly for you to deepthroat him, but he shifted over to the side, knowing Daryl would forcibly do it anyway. Now he moved impossibly faster, fingers stretching you open and filling the bedroom with wet noises from how he had you dripping.

Getting to hear you clearly now sent him into overdrive, grunting against your clit while Scud just laboriously returned to toying with your boobs. “C'mon girl, jus’ cum. Cum fer me. Wanna see yer gorgeous face.”

“Jesus, Daryl-” Your sentence split, and you cried out, trembling legs coming together and forcing him flush against you. You rode his face, a hand flying down to tug at his shaggy locks and assisting you in rolling your hips. He clutched you bruisingly hard, nearing ripping into you.

When your limbs relaxed again, he lavished long licks over your cunt, swirling the tangy, sticky nectar of your release over his entire mouth. “Mos’ perfect fuckin’ thing.”

“Pleas’ mommas, can I fuck ya?” Scud pleaded, cupping your face to catch his distress. Sharing was hard when one party was so much more controlling. Poor thing needed you.

But seeing Daryl yank down and discard his boxers, hard cock visibly throbbing and tip shaded red, he needed you too. And you could tell a blowjob just wouldn't settle it for either of them. “Fuck, just-.. both of you fuck me.”

“Can ya handle two, sweetheart?” Daryl exhorted, swiping a strayed bit of hair from your forehead and deftly tucking it back, slightly softened eyes checking for sincerity in your expression. With your nod, they acclimated to desire once again.

He flipped onto his back, and manhandled your body overtop of him, your back flattened on his chest, and Scud hurriedly positioning above. Daryl kept your legs spread apart with his, reaching around and palming at your breast while going down to slick himself between your soaked folds, slapping himself against you a couple times. “Ya tell us if s'too much, alrigh’?”

“Yea, yeah- please, just fuck me already,” You wailed as he angled you down and slipped deep into you, Scud giving you a second to adjust before coating spit over his shaft, and gently guiding into you as well.

Your back arched as Daryl held you firm, whining in delectable pain as they strained you further open than you ever had been, your acrylics digging into his waist beneath you. Scud layered himself onto you, sucking another hickey into your chest then rocking his hips a couple of times.

When you handled it well, Daryl took it as a cue to join him, plodding more in his thrusts to still give you the opportunity to bail if this wasn't to your liking. Your eyelids fluttered closed, head lulling back to rest on Daryl's shoulder as your heavy breaths fell in line with the pace. When Scud pushed in, Daryl would pull out, and vice versa: always keeping you full while maintaining the motion that granted so much ecstasy to you three. Every one of their filthy noises sounded incomprehensibly better than you'd ever pictured.

Scud mewled against you, head buried into your breasts and giving quick pecks or licks any time he wasn't being uncontrollably vocal. Daryl did the same, groaning into your shoulder and hair.

“Takin’ us so good, arentcha darlin’? So wet, pussy so tight,” Daryl hushed into your ear, hooking up faster and faster following each of his thrusts like the speed was on a multiplier.

You twisted fingers in the back of Scud's head, triggering a loud whine when you tugged on the roots of this hair and that metal choker he always wore. He started to waver, weakly humping you like his brain was fried and just focusing on staying as deep inside you as he could. “Mmm… mommy, I… ‘m so hungry. Please…” The hinges of his jaw started extending on their own, humid exhales dampening an area by your neck. Tasting hints of your blood earlier spawned a black hole that decimated the sinkhole he'd previously had caving in over time. In the near year he'd known you, that urge to just feed from your tender flesh was all he ever thought about. And now, warm walls of your cunt wrapped around him, urging him to another orgasm… He couldn't wait much longer, he was starving.

Daryl planted his feet to make up for Scud's faltering rhythm, the strengthful build of his hips and thighs making it easy to lift you. He was trying so hard to focus on just fucking you, but as the other vampire's imploring got the best of him, he started to follow suit. “Ya know yer'a damn tease, righ’ moonshine? Lookin’ so sexy all tha time, tha seductive scent ah yers… Fuck, I kno’ ya taste like heaven…” He craned his neck up, applying pressure to your carotid artery with his tongue, feeling everything he wanted pump through you at a rapid rate.

You took in a shaky breath, vivacity emanating from the both of them and encircling you. Their dicks throbbed inside of you, the drifter pistoning while the engineer hunched, but that just wasn't enough, and it made the craving so much more pressing. Their pairs of fangs rested on the edges of your skin, tracing over it, each on one side.

“Shit… just do it-.. Jus’ fuckin’ do,” You panted, and it happened so fast you barely even realized it. Scud's bite was eager, being more frantic and on your left: Daryl's more longing, savoring the feeling of piercing into your silky flesh on the right. They drew long siphons into their throats, sultry crimson flooding their systems as their eyes blazed a mutual color.

A strangled moan ripped from your being, your consciousness floating in a haze. Daryl fucked you faster, empowered by your smooth blood, grunting savagely as his razor-edged talons dug into your breasts, Scud's on your waist: but they were so careful to not rip you up.

“Mmmnngh… oh, gods momma, m’gonna cum…” Scud lost any last sense of his composure, curving his spine and slicking out of you to cum over your pelvis. He whimpered like an injured dog, anchoring himself with the teeth lodged in you, grinding against you a few times to ride out the bliss as he messied your body with lengthy ropes of white. Waves of body-wracking pleasure made him writhe around on your chest, lost in some other realm.

“Fuck… cum fer me again, dollface. Know yer good fer me,” Daryl mumbled against you, driving into your cunt with every newfound bit of liveliness he garnered from feeding on you. Your brain stopped working at this point – those red acrylic nails scratching at Daryl's thigh with your left, and Scud's back with your right.

You felt lightheaded, loss of ichor incapacitating you even as they'd ceased thirsting, just keeping fangs planted in your muscles. The crest of euphoria floated your soul to nirvana, Daryl's tip brushing past one specific golden point in your walls and shoving you off the cliff of your climax, tightening his hold on you as you bowed and bucked, vision stripped from your senses.

Your pussy spasmed and massaged around the southerner's cock, and with a final few abusing thrusts, he withdrew and spilled his own load over your folds, resistant moans rumbling from his vocal cords. All three of your chests heaved intensely, fighting to steal any oxygen from the lust-filled atmosphere of your bedroom.

Daryl's hands drifted to your midsection to push up and roll Scud off of you to the left, knowing he was too much of a fucked out mess to do it himself. He gently laid you between the two of them, smoothing a caring hand over your chest and pressing a kiss to your upper arm. “Ya feelin’ okay, moonshine? Didn't take too much, righ’?”

“Yea, ‘m good.., jus’ need a minute,” You wheezed, eyes shut and soma trying to recuperate. Daryl peeled himself from the bed, going to wet a rag, and fetch some water and food. Returning, he compassionately cleaned away the cum smeared across your curves, supporting you as he helped you drink and all – then gathered extra layers of healing saliva over your puncture wounds just to make sure they'd seal over.

He soothed you by tracing patterns with his calloused palm, the three of you resting for a long while and wrapping thoughts around what just happened.

Scud snaked his arm around yours and cuddled right up against your side, keeping lips pressed against you with his whiny hums. “Wanna feel more'ah ya mommas…” To only say he was needy was an understatement, he was full on reliant – vampiric endurance adapting the role of an exponent for such.

“Let ‘er rest.”

You brought your nails to Scud's scalp, gently scratching his head and he practically began to purr. Even if Daryl shoved him off, you appreciated how benevolent he was to you, and could tell he felt less-than right now, lacking your focus. “That spit of yours work on swellin’ too?”

He nodded with a mumbly ‘Mhm…’

“Then how bout'cha lick my pussy till it feels better, ‘nd we'll keep goin’ till botha ya are ran dry, hm?” You suggested, planting a kiss on the top of his head and sensing the energy shift.

And they were both on you all over again in an instant.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[didsomeonesaydaddydraco]

Drive me crazy | Tom Felton one shot (smut)

Request: yes, by anon. 

Word count: 3,017

Pairing: Tom Felton x reader

Warning: sexual content, PDA, daddy kink, swearing, oral sex (female receiving)

It started as a stupid bet, and neither of us would have thought we would make it so serious. A month ago, Tom saw a stupid video on TikTok, where the couple wanted to see how long they can go without having sex. And of course he wanted to try it too. We both found it stupid, and thought we’d break after a week, but after eight whole days, we found a way to make it a little bit more spicy. Tom would come up behind me and kiss my neck while I was making breakfast, or I would go and sit on his lap in nothing but one of his tank tops. Small little things that we knew would drive the other crazy. We both tried to break the other and win this foolish bet. At first, I was actually glad that he found something that could make the quarantine life more interested, but when we reached the one month milestone in the bet, I knew we were both at the edge of madness. I had to do something. My body missed him, and I wanted to catch on fire when we were in the same room, yet alone in the same bed every single night. I would have gave up everything just to get my internal organs rearranged by Tom.

“Babe?” I called out his name. I heard the calming melody of the piano, and knew where I had to find him. I went to his little music room and watched how his long fingers ran on the keys. Tom always knew how to use those beautiful fingers of his. He looked up from the sheet music that was spread open in front of him and smirked at me. He knew very well what he was doing and he enjoyed seeing me suffer.

“Yes, darling?” His voice was low and he stretched his words. I had to bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from moaning. My eyes wandered back to his fingers that were playing a faster song now. 

“We need to go grocery shopping and I thought we could go to the mall real quick” I walked up to him and hugged him from behind. I slowly slid down my hands on his shoulder blades, down on his chest and leaned to his ear. My lips brushed his ear as a whispered in his ear “I’m in the mood of a little bit of shopping” I kissed the thin skin behind his ear and gently scratched his chest with my nails. I felt his whole body tensed under my touch. I smiled to myself, knowing that he was as famished as I was. He was in my hands, and I wasn’t going to give him any mercy.

———-

We were walking hand in hand in the mall, enjoying that we were finally out of the house, even if we had to wear our masks. Tom was talking about a new trick that he wanted to teach Willow, and I tried not to pour cold water on him by telling him Willow hated to learn new tricks, because she preferred play time and naps with her Daddy. My eyes were scanning the shops and the shopwindow, trying to find something that I actually liked, but all my previous plans about buying some new clothes for spring, and some new hoodies for Tom were long forgotten when my eyes caught a glimpse of my favourite lingerie shop. 

“Come” I dragged him with me. I knew all his weak spots, and one of them being Italian lingerie. Lord knows how many of it ended up in the bin just after hours of purchasing them. They made Tom go crazy and brought out the raw caveman in him, which always left me shaking in bed and not being able to walk properly for days. 

“Didn’t you buy this stuff last month?” He asked me with tilted eyebrows. He could be so daffy sometimes “Or did they end up in pieces?” I laughed and walked in to the store, with Tom closely following me. I knew what I wanted and what I had to do to get it, and I wasn’t planning to play a fair game with him. 

I walked around the store, looking for the most beautiful, most revealing lingerie that I could find. I was playing with the different kind of fabrics, showing Tom, asking him to feel it himself and imagine how good it must feel against my skin. With each set, his patience was getting smaller and smaller, and his actions became possessive - always blocking me from other male costumers who were there with their partners. I was dancing on very thin ice, but I wanted to break the ice. 

“I’ll go and try these on” I kissed his cheek sweetly, dangerously close to his lips. I went to the changing rooms with a few new pieces of lingerie and waited for him to catch up with me “Be a dear, and hold my bag in the meantime, yeah?” I smiled at him innocently and closed the door of the changing room. I hesitated about my choice, but I finally settled with a black, lacy set with a suspenders attached to the bottom. I let my hair out of the messy bun and checked my reflection. I was more than satisfied with what I saw in the mirror. The lingerie fitted perfectly, my hair was wavy from the bun and it covered my shoulders. My face was glowing, I had a little red colour in my cheeks and my eyes were dark from lust and the fire in them made them look like they were shining like stars on the pitch black sky. I slowly opened the door, and leaned to the frame, playing with the ends of my hair as a looked at Tom, who was sitting on the sofa, placed right in front of the changing rooms. He was doing something on his phone, but he dropped it the second he looked up and saw me. His eyes turned black from icy blue in just a second, and he was on his feet. 

“So” I smirked at him, straightening up and turning around so he could get a better look at my chosen set “What do you think?” As a response, he pushed me back to the changing room and closed the door behind him. He threw my bag to the corner and pushed me against the wall behind me. His hands were gripping my hips and his face was inches away from mine. I could feel his heavy breathing on my skin and the burning of his gaze on my body. This was the exact reaction I wanted from him. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer to me. His chest was pressed to mine and his thigh was between my legs, brushing against my aching core. 

“You drive me fucking crazy, woman” he growled in my ear and aggressively bit my skin on my shoulder. He was clever. He knew this game very well, and he still tried to win even though we both knew he lost the second he pushed me back to the changing room. Game was over, and I won our bet. And I knew my price was going to leave me shaking, screaming and unable to walk for days after this but it was so worth it “I want to taste you so bad” 

“Fuck this” I said and pulled him down to me. Kisses weren’t banned throughout the bet, but this definitely felt different than those. We didn’t care about it anymore, we just wanted to feel each other again. 32 days of abstinence was in that kiss. I felt his love, his lust, his struggle, his hunger and his desire. Tom’s grip got tighter and his kiss got deeper and more demanding. His hands wandered from my hips to my backside, smoothing his palms on the shape of it and grabbing it with such force it made me moan into his mouth. With this, he had the perfect chance to slip his tongue into my mouth and find its partner and ask it for a dance. I let go of my grip on his shirt and slowly slid down my right hand on his chest, his stomach and even more slowly on his abdomen until I reached him. He was already rock hard under my touch, and that deep groan that I loved so much broke out from him when I gently palmed him. With my left hand, I dig into his hair and pulled it slightly.

“Darling” he moaned and kissed alongside my jawline, his arms holding me closer than ever. I felt like a goddess under his touch. Tom’s hands left my backside and ran up on my back, straight to my hair. He pulled my hair with his left hand to tilt my head back so he could look into my eyes “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” His voice was deep and raspy, it was enough to push me into another dimension. Tom’s right hand grabbed my neck and held me in my place. He ran his thumb across my bottom lip and squeezed my neck gently, just how I liked it “You’ve been such a naughty little girl”

“Babe, please” I whispered and kissed his thumb, never breaking the eye contact. He was in my hands and I wasn’t letting him go so easily. Tom tilted his head to the side, his dark and dangerous side showing a little.

“Please what, princess?” He looked at me like a predator looks at its prey. My blood froze in my veins but blew up in just a second, under his gaze. I felt the heat rising between my legs and my knees seemed to be too weak to hold me any longer. Tom helped me to stay steady by locking my body between the wall and his body “Tell me what you want”

“Don’t be gentle” my voice was shaky. Tom cooed at me and brought his thumb to my lips, forcing it between my lips. I gently sucked on it and closed my eyes, imagining all the things I wanted to do to him and all the things I wanted him to do to me right there and then. 

“What else do you want?” His lips were on my neck, leaving wet kisses and bite marks all over my skin. He was trying to push me to my edges. He was controlling me, and I was happily obeying him, which turned him on even more. He lived for being in control and being dominant in the bedroom, and I was perfectly submissive for him “Say it, baby girl”

“I want you to push my knees apart and paint my thighs with purple kisses” my eyes were begging him. Begging for him to ease my pain and make me feel fully alive. I wanted to scream his name and hold onto him while both of us came down from our highs. 

“Such a good girl” Tom was satisfied with me. And when he was, he always rewarded me with something “Daddy fucking loves you” he whispered in my ears and let go of my neck, sliding down his hand on my chest, grabbing my breast, massaging it while his lips kissed me with passion and hunger. Tom’s hands were exploring my whole body, they were everywhere where I wanted him the most. 

“Tom” I whimpered under his touch. I was craving him and I had enough of the teasing. I was burning inside and needed him to let me cool down “Do something, damnit” he looked amazed by my sudden demanding and bold tone. His fingers finally found my genitalia and hummed at how wet I was already. He slid his finger in the black lace thong and stroked slowly between my folds, pushing on my clit to make me go crazy. He started moving his finger painfully slow on my clit, pushing on it harder  after a few strokes. He was fast to cover my mouth with his free hand to dim my moan when he suddenly pushed two fingers in me. Tom moved his fingers in a steady pace, not letting me to close my eyes. 

“Quiet, baby girl. We don’t want anyone to find out what we’re doing, do we?” He whispered in my ear and bit my earlobe gently. I nodded slowly, my eyes shutting at the pleasure of finally feelings his hands on me again. Tom pulled his finger out and brought it to my mouth, touching my lips with it “Now suck” he ordered and my lips parted automatically at his tone. He pushed his finger in my mouth, watching with a satisfied look on his face as a sucked on it “That’s it, darling. Now be a good girl for daddy and stay quiet”

“Yes, daddy” I whispered and leaned my head on the wall, closing my eyes and enjoying the wet kisses on my skin what Tom left on me as he slowly moved down on my body and kneeled in front of me. He pulled down my soaking wet undies and threw it to the other end of the changing room. He slid his hand up on my calf and grabbed my right leg and placed it on his shoulder. My hands found their way to his hair and pulled it softly when I felt his lips on the inner side of my thigh. He planted open kisses on it, biting on the thin and sensitive skin, sucking on it to leave his mark on my body for him to admire his work of art later. 

“So soft” he spoke in a low voice and kissed along my bikini line “And so wet” he blew on my clit which made me shiver from pleasure “All for me” Tom’s praising was melody to my heart and soul, and it just made me want him even more if it was possible. His lips pecked my skin, slowly finding their way to my core. I had to bit my bottom lip to stop myself from screaming a little when I finally felt his warm tongue flicking my clit and diving inside of my fold while his lips closed up on my clit. His hands were grabbing my thigh on his shoulder, and the other pushing my hip to the wall, forcing me to stay still. My back arched at the satisfaction and my fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling on it with every gentle stroke he left on me. 

“Look at me” I almost sobbed when Tom stopped for a bare second just to order me and bite on my skin again “I want you to look at me while I’m eating you out” I obeyed his order, knowing very well if I didn’t, he would have stopped “God, you taste so fucking good, princess” 

“Don’t stop” I whimpered and pushed his head back which made him chuckle darkly, but chose to give me what I wanted. He let go of my leg and teased my slit, drawing small circles, before spitting on it and pushing them inside without any warning. His fingers were hitting the right spot every time and he double my pleasure and joy with moving his tongue on my clit quickly. My breathing became heavier and quicker as I was getting closer and closer to reach my high. It was impossible to stop myself from shaking and pushing my lower parts to his face. He looked perfect between my thighs, with his fingers deep inside me and his tongue spelling the most beautiful poems on my clit, while his dark eyes drowned me in “Fuck, Tom” I hissed. He sped up the movements of his fingers and gently bit on my clit. The suddenly came slight pain pushed me to the very edge and my eyes rolled to the back of my head. I covered my mouth from moaning his names loudly. It was a torture, not being able to show how amazing he felt. 

“Come on princess, come on my face” his breath tickled my pussy as he spoke “Be a good girl and come for daddy” he bit my skin above my Venus mound. His fingers curved inside me, making me see stars from pleasure. He harshly sucked on my clit, pushing his warm and strong tongue on it to give me the full satisfaction. His voice, his look, the way his fingers literally conjured me and a month without having him inside me was enough to completely destroy me and push me to the land of pleasure. My leg gave up and Tom had to hold me while I rode out my high on his face. I felt his smile on my skin and he cleaned me up with his tongue, enjoying the taste of me. He slowly pulled out his finger and brought it to his lips, licking my juice from them and smiling at me darkly. 

“Get dressed” he kissed me sweetly, but I could feel the hunger in it “We’re going home. I’m not finished with you yet” he said and tucked my hair behind my ear “I want to hear you scream my name” he whispered in my ear “I want you to shake under me and beg for me” I swallowed hard, already feeling myself getting hot just by his words. He gave me my clothes and turned around to leave me alone to get my clothes back on, but he suddenly turned around before he exited the changing room “And I’m buying all of these” he said and grabbed all of the lingerie that were still untouched and hung on the clothes peg. By the time I was ready, Tom already paid for the different coloured and different styled lingerie and was waiting for me impatiently in front of the store. It was safe to stay, we didn’t left our bedroom for the rest of the weekend. 

[creativeashproductions]

Suddenly Stuck With You // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Twenty-one years ago Owen Patrick Joyner was born into a life with a bright future and career bringing him two best friends. His best friends Charlie and Jeremy drag the blonde actor to Vegas to celebrate his first legal drink in America. What was supposed to be a weekend for the boys quickly changed all because a certain Canadian met a girl and drank a ton. Now they have to deal with the consequences of their actions.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, allusion to sex, heartbreak, angst and fluff

Words: 7.1k

A/N: Originally this was going to be a mini series but I can’t be bothered to stretch out this idea. I’m sorry, I just feel like this is shit already and I haven’t felt that happy with my writing lately.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Fox and Hound Pub, Las Vegas July 2021

“Happy birthday man!” The voice of his castmate, work roommate and best friend announced.

Owen’s eyes found Charlie’s glittering viridescent eyes meeting Owen’s bright blue.

“Why did we have to celebrate my twenty-first in Las Vegas, Charlie?” Owen questioned with one hand, cupped around his first legal drink in America. 

Owen had had his fair share of beers in his life both in America and his visits in Germany after he turned sixteen. Charlie and Jeremy had been the ones to drag the actor to Vegas to celebrate. Owen didn’t see the significance of celebrating in a different state than Los Angeles.

“C’mon! You’re twenty-one!” Charlie exclaimed pushing a beer across the table in the bar they had found. Relatively lowkey the boys hadn’t been stopped for pictures by JATP fans thankfully.

Owen nabbed the mug from Charlie’s calloused hand to take a swig of the drink to Charlie’s delight with a sigh. The tall actor scanning the moderately filled bar, the world was coming back to terms after the pandemic officially ended.

“There you go!” The Canadian adventurer spoke nodding his head to the live music a local band was playing.

Owen’s eyes found someone he recognized from a show on the History Channel his dad was incredibly into for several years. Two men sat in a booth next to the bar with food in front of them with the dark-haired one wearing a shirt with a logo. It was hard to make out, but he believed it was for a famous pawn shop in Vegas.

“Drink up. I got the tab tonight.” Charlie informed his distracted best friend, “This is gonna be an incredible year. Shooting for season two with the gang back together.”

“Hey, sorry about that. Care and I had a scheduled live on Insta to do. Happy birthday, man.” Jeremy sat in the booth next to Charlie, still living on the high of seeing his wife.

“This is gonna be a trip to remember,” Charlie announced tapping mugs with his two fellow castmates and best friends.

Oh, how right Charlie was.

Your best friend lifted the wineglass to her red lips with a mischievous look in her eye that concerned you as usual. Cherry, nicknamed for her fierce love of cherries, had a wild streak that had mellowed after graduating college last year. Cherry had invited you to stay with her for a month to recover from a devastating loss. The offer hadn’t entirely left her lips before you bought a plane ticket from Heathrow Airport in England to Las Vegas.

You had met Cherry in your teens through an exchange program set up between your schools a few years back. Even since you two met at sixteen, you had been best friends and unable to get rid of the other.

“Why are we here?” You asked, tapping a manicured nail freshly done at a spa courtesy of Cherry. Of course Cherry chose a shade of red as per usual while you had chosen a traditional white tip French Manicure.

“I know the breakup was tough, but you need to let loose.” Cherry’s hand reached over to squeeze yours. The sympathetic smile irritating you for god knows what number of time it was.

Averting your eyes, you found yourself scanning the pub with barely any attention but you wanted to escape the warm amber brown of your friend. You loved Cherry, but you wanted to mourn the loss of your relationship within your own time and way.

“I need another drink!” You called over the loud music before pushing away from the table to head to the bar.

Ordering your favourite drink, you leaned against the dark wood with your arms crossed and a faraway gaze. Unaware of the man waiting next to you for his own drink.

“Hey!” The male spoke, bringing your attention to his soft hazel gaze.

Your e/c eyes finding the man speaking with a kind and absolutely breathtaking smile framed by the scruff his face sported. Facial hair sometimes turned you off if it wasn’t worn styled for the individual. This guy, however, pulled it off with the brunette moustache matching the medium-length head of hair.

“Hi.” You softly replied gracefully grabbing the drink when the barkeep set it down before hustling down the counter to another customer, “Am I in your way?”

“No. I already got my drink. You looked lost, and I saw the bartender coming. I didn’t want anyone slipping you something.”

“Thank you…”

“Charlie.” The man spoke, holding out his hand to you with his smile still on his cheerful expression. Your hand slid into his warm grip.

“Y/N.”

You and Charlie retreated to an empty table deep in conversation with such ease it felt like you had known each other for years. You learnt he was living in LA, but originally from Canada, a province called New Brunswick.

Charlie was enthralled as you told him how you had been born and raised in America for the first ten years of your life. After age ten, you moved to England for your mom’s job offer and settled in your father’s childhood hometown; he was originally from England but met your mother on vacation in California.

While you conversed, Cherry found you entirely focused on the male with an expression she hadn’t seen in ages. Her eyes floated by to you periodically for your safety until you sent her a text.

You: Sorry, I ditched you. I got caught up talking with Charlie.

Cherry sent a response back before paying your tabs and heading to her apartment a few blocks away from Fox and Hound Pub. Her heart was excited for how the night would pan out because the sexual tension could be felt across the duo’s room. She was confident you wouldn’t make any stupid decisions.

Oh, how wrong she was.

A hiss preceded the deep groan as a group of construction workers pounded away in your skull painfully. The back of your eyelids painted red from the sunlight pouring into the room from the open blinds.

Scrubbing one hand over your eyes, you slowly sat up with a satisfying stretch after a well-rested sleep. The cool air from the air conditioner raising goosebumps on your bare skin…wait a minute bare skin? The slightest sound of the sheet rustling together, freezing you in place. Firstly, you glanced down at your bare chest before sliding your eyes over to the left of the bed.

Eyes equally large the man from last night, Charlie, cried out when he sat up too quickly. The sheets pooled around his bare waist.

“Okay. Definitely didn’t wake up in my own bed.” You muttered leaning over to find your abandoned shirt on the floor.

Pulling it on despite the stare from Charlie’s hazel eyes, you scoured the room for the rest of your clothes. The room was silent as Charlie slid on his clothing like you did before you stood covered up in the hotel room.

“So, obviously, we slept together. Do you remember if we used-“Charlie started to ask. Your mouth opening to end his sentence.

“I’m on the pill. We used a condom.” You informed him equally as relieved you hadn’t made a stupid decision, “Thankfully even fully sloshed we used protection. We didn’t make a stupid decision.”

At least you hooked up with a really nice guy instead of a scummy guy only in it for his own pleasure and disregarding yours. Vague memories from the night in the sheets swayed you into believing the charming man was more of a giver than a receiver.

Charlie’s mouth opened he felt a new weight barely discernable, but he felt it, “Uh…guess again.”

Eyes furrowing you found the ring on his finger with shame, “Oh my god, you’re married?!”

Holy shit, you slept with a married man. You’re a homewrecker you thought to yourself getting further worked up. What if this guy had kids. Not noticing your feet had started pacing the room.

“I wasn’t yesterday morning.” Charlie faltered keeping his eyes on the cheap ring he definitely hadn’t been wearing yesterday. His eyes moving to look at the matching wedding band on your left hand, bringing you attention to it as well.

“Well, fuck.” The deep sigh guiding awareness from the male to the weary posture that came with the heartbreak.

When Cherry invited you to visit and take solace in your best friend, you never expected to wake up from a one night stand turned more. Tears built with the embarrassment of crying in front of his stranger that hadn’t asked for a morning with a hangover and a new wife.

“Whoa! Hey, we can get it annulled.” Charlie stuttered rushing over to draw you into his strong arms with such gentle care it melted your heart. The leftovers that hadn’t shattered to your toes from the failed relationship you escaped the UK for.

“This is a mess.” You sighed birthing an unintentional word vomit, “I left the UK to visit my best friend, Cherry. She brought me to the bar to cheer me up and instead of attempting the ‘to get over someone you have to get under someone’ I fuck that up as well. I get married.”

Charlie’s hazel gaze widened at the revelation, “You broke up with someone?”

“More cliché. He’s a rich frat boy in his fifth year of college, he’s brilliant but chose to stay for the frat house. He got a girl pregnant, and now he’s in a forced engagement.” The smile you hoped was strong came out wobbling, “Then he asked me to be his ‘official’ real relationship. An embellished way of being the secret girlfriend/mistress.”

Charlie winced, leaning back to stare down, “How long ago was this?”

“Around seven months? I kept it quiet for a while. No one knew until last month. I’ve gotten a lot of pity even if I’m over him but not the betrayal.” Charlie whistled lowly with a nod and a particular look in his eyes.

“This is gonna come out of the left-field entirely, but what if we check out the laws on Vegas weddings? See if we fit the annulment or if we need a divorce? If we need a divorce, we can play it out to make his regret his decision and get everyone off your back?”

The refusal just about dropped from your tongue before something changed, “Let’s do it.”

As Charlie quickly get ready, he nabbed his phone from the charger by the bed before he slipped his hand in yours. He answered your confusion with the excuse of getting used to each other. Instead of fighting the blatant denial, you followed him to his rented car for the week to give him directions to Cherry’s apartment.

“So, what’s our story?” You asked the man, “We don’t know each other that well.”

“My full name is Charlie Jeffrey Gillespie. I’m Canadian but living in Los Angeles for work, I’m here for my best friend Owen’s twenty-first birthday with our other best friend, Jeremy. I’m twenty-two turning twenty-three in August.” Charlie spitfire navigating the streets of Vegas with practised ease.

“You already know my full name. I’m twenty-three as of a few months prior. You already know I moved from America to England over a decade ago.” The hesitation came from telling Charlie the career you had had since you turned twenty.

The topic of jobs was evaded as you learnt about each other’s likes and dislikes in a crash course to convince Cherry. Just as Charlie started to list his siblings, his phone rang through the car’s Bluetooth.

“I’m guessing that’s the Owen you came to Vegas with?” You questioned flicking your gaze between the Caller ID and your husband. God even thinking of having a husband was incredibly odd.

“Yeah. I have to answer.” Charlie’s exuded nerves with his fingers tapping the steering wheel, “Can you play along?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before clicking the accept.

“Dude, where are you? We were supposed to get food together? I have a wicked hangover.” The voice of this Owen spoke with a tinge of annoyance you only caught with your training.

“I met Y/N.” Charlie infused his voice with the nerves and a slight change to his voice that impressed you as he stepped into a set of shoes in his chest of roles.

“Who? Is that the girl from last night? The one you had that drinking challenge with?” Owen questioned from his side of the phone settled at a table with Jeremy nursing a coffee for his hangover.

“I haven’t told anyone, but after Jeremy’s wedding, it made me feel like I was missing something? I signed up for a dating app, and with filming, I forgot about it. About six months ago, I met someone, and we’ve constantly been talking.”

“That’s why you refused the blind dates from Sav and me? Not that you wanted to focus on work.” Jeremy interjected, “You should have told us, man. We wouldn’t judge you.”

“I know that, but we all blew up after the show. I just wanted to keep this between us until we knew for sure but guys…this girl is the One.” Charlie chuckled, shaking his head at the irony of already being married to you.

“We’re happy. So, did you want to take me to Vegas so you could meet her?” Owen questioned with a pit in his stomach of Charlie’s motives not being only for him.

“I’m in the car with her. She’s sending a few emails for work and blasting music. I can hear it from the driver’s seat.” Charlie joked to the boys with the lie slipping quickly, “Hey! Y/N, sweetheart.”

“Hm?” You interject with such ease, Charlie wondered if you were an actor as well. The practised and on beat performance, “Oh! Hi, sorry. I’m Y/n, you must be Owen and Jeremy? Charlie’s talked about you guys. Congratulations on your wedding Jeremy.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Jeremy lightly laughed, shaking his head at the voice coming from Owen’s phone on speaker.

“Happy birthday Owen. I wish I could have met you in person to wish you a happy birthday, but Charlie and I tend to forget to tell each other where our trips happen! It was such a shock to see him last night.” Just as Charlie had used affected nerves, you played up the loved up role, “My best friend and I almost chose a different pub than Fox and Hound.”

Owen and Jeremy’s grins grew at the genuine care in your voice as you continued speaking before Charlie interrupted you.

“Sweetheart I think they get it!” Charlie laughed with a glittering of stars in his eyes, “It was shocking to see Y/n in Las Vegas of all the 50 states. This week has been the best. Getting to bring my best friend to Vegas for his big twenty-one and meeting the love of my life in person?”

“Charlie’s dropping me off at my best friends. You’ll have him again in an hour. I hope you have a wonderful weekend Owen.” You finished unknowingly winning them over at the care in your voice and the happiness you brought out in Charlie.

Owen ended the call with a quick goodbye, leaving the rented car quiet between the new husband and wife.

“That went better than I expected.” Charlie admitted with a soft smile on his lips only to drop at your expression, “What?”

“Our next obstacle in convincing my best friend this relationship is real.”

“I’m sure it will go-“

“She’s an extremely successful criminal prosecutor who graduated high school a year early and fast-tracked through college.”

“Well, shit,” Charlie stated, leaning back in his seat as the entire situation hit him that he had married a stranger.

Charlie may be able to fool his friends but his family? His mother to be specific would immediately know what was up. The young Canadian had always been open on one day getting married surrounded by his family and have his parents there. Dropping this bomb on his family could only go one way: terrible.

“I’m a good actor. I’m sure we can convince her. We’ll get together with her tomor-“

“Unfortunately, I’m meeting with her in a few hours.” You revealed with a sheepish smile on your pretty features. Charlie could feel his heart drop in dread and fear at how the hand given wasn’t in his favour.

The drive was quiet as dread filled the two individuals as the distance was eaten up between the car and the apartment that housed an intelligent woman. Cherry Parker had only been working at the firm for a year with a clear future as a partner within ten years. Cherry with perfect grades in high school and high percentages in college and a perfect smile. A natural at finding people’s ticks she would be near impossible to deceive.

“We could turn around. Make an excuse to be introduced through the phone.” Charlie supplied, biting his lip, “Oh my god. She’s not gonna kill me, is she?”

“No.” You swiftly told the spiralling man, “She’d kill me and frame you.”

Maybe that wasn’t the best to calm the man down as he freaked out more, “Oh my god. What are we gonna do!?”

The apartment loomed as the car came to a stop outside just as the individual wearing seafoam green peacoat stepped to the entrance. Her blunt bob of caramel brown hair and unique earrings screaming that it was Cherry.

“That’s her.” You breathed as Charlie parallel parked in between a compact car and an SUV in front. Jerry, the doorman, waved with his beaming smile that reminded you of a jolly man just as he had since you had first visited Cherry in her apartment.

Jerry mumbled towards Cherry before she turned swiftly on her black pumps notorious to her work attire. Since her first year of law school, she had gone through two pairs and adored them with her new income.

The woman rushed over as your door opened with the help of Charlie, how you didn’t notice he had turned the car off and walked to your side, appalled you. The 5’8 male was shoved to the side as Cherry tugged you into her arms with a scathing glare at Charlie.

 “I don’t know who you are or how much you rocked her world, but it’s been hours. I thought you kidnapped her.” Cherry hissed at the male with her brown eyes flaring with anger that made both you and Charlie flinch.

“Whoa! We got stuck in traffic, and Charlie’s friend called.” Your hands raised in defence at the pointed glare now directed at you. The amber-brown eyes scanned your form and other than the apparent walk of shame appearance, you looked fine.

Cherry’s red lips parted for the usual questions she gave to all her friends after one-night stands. With a subtle shake of your head, Cherry tabled the questions for later before locking her eyes on the newcomer.

“Cherry Parker. And what’s the name of the guy that plastered a smile on her face?” Cherry questioned, holding out her hand to him.

“Charlie Gillespie. It’s nice to meet you.” Charlie replied with that charming smile that melted your heart. It didn’t appear to melt Cherry with the thick skin she developed first in her family and then as a lawyer.

“Likewise. Well, thank you for delivering her safe.” Cherry spoke hand, reaching for your own impatient for all the details she would demand. Her words failed when her amber gaze peered at the near-identical faces, “What did you do?”

The demand startled the two individuals before the attorney began ushering the duo in the building you had been staying at. Her red nail stabbing the golden-hued elevator surrounded by emerald green displaying a vintage colour scheme.

“Please tell me it’s not as bad as senior year?” Cherry pleaded massaging the bridge of her nose with her free hand. The other clenching her briefcase so tight the knuckles had turned bleach bone white.

“What happened senior year?” Charlie asked following the two best friends into a spacious apartment that could fit two of his in it. His hazel eyes catching the unspoken conversation between the two best friends.

“Not important.” Cherry sighed eyes, lowering to your fingers, “Of course. Vegas. You eloped. Jesus Y/N, you know how your family is.”

Catching the confusion from Charlie, you elaborated for Cherry, “My family is incredibly strict and old fashioned. Divorce isn’t accepted in my family for anything less than the most serious scenarios.”

“Drunk eloping in Vegas? Practically get prepared for silent judgemental stares from Nana and drowning disappointment.” Cherry sighed, pushing a strand of her caramel brown locks behind her ear.

“I have a plan for that. We can pretend to be married before amicably divorcing later. We can figure out the details for a reason later in future. We already started the ruse.” Charlie admitted seating himself at the island in the spacious kitchen his mother would dream of cooking in.

Charlie could already tell just how successful Cherry was with her apartment and her outfit that dripped money. Her kindness, however, set her on a different level to the people Charlie had encountered with the same dollar signs.

“Of course,” Cherry grumbled digging around for drinks. Charlie fully anticipated it to be some kind of fancy wine, but he was proven wrong.

Cherry had taken out two different kinds of beer from the fridge, along with cold mugs straight from the freezer.

“What just because I’m dolled up you think I drink strictly wine? I have that for my mother and sister when they visit.” Charlie barely caught the eyeroll at Cherry’s mention of her family as she turned to you.

“Besides, I’m my father’s daughter.” You cheered cracking open your choice into the mug with skilled ease. The foam perfectly dealt with it brought a smile to Charlie’s face.

“Okay, so this ruse. What did you do so far?”

“My friends think she and I met on a dating app seven months ago and coincidently ran into each other last night at the bar. We’ve kept it private because of my job-“

“-along with Y/N’s job.” Cherry simply spoke raising the rim of her mug to her lips, “Okay, there’s no way you’d sign up on an app after Harvey. So, I went behind your back and made one for you.”

“Then Charlie messaged me after I found out. It started off as apologizing that he chose my profile. It started a friendship that turned into a relationship.”

“We did Facetime dates before becoming exclusive, and you wanted to ensure it was something that would last longer than a fling.” Charlie inserted with a beaming grin as he felt into ease with the two girls before him.

“I think we got a story for you two. Just two rules: One, don’t go falling in love with each other and two, don’t get pregnant.” Cherry joked sitting in the barstool across from you and Charlie. Her red lips revealing white teeth, one tooth with a tiny chip out of it from high school.

The rest of the days’ Charlie was in Las Vegas he alternated between his friends and you with the odd time he invited you to dinner with them. There was such ease between Charlie and you that hadn’t be there even with your ex Harvey. Unfortunately, the time in Las Vegas dwindled down until you were dropping the boys off at the airport.

“I’ll call you when I get home.” Charlie mumbled in the earshot of his friends, “Whirlwind wedding-“

“Married.” Owen scoffed in disbelief once more having found out at dinner last night that included colourful words. Jeremy had been placed in silent shock seeing the real matching wedding bands.

“In a month, you’ll fly out to England to help me pack up the flat and then we’ll fly to see your family for your cousin’s wedding.” You finished for the man with a beaming grin that had steadily lost its fake appeal. It quite literally felt like you had known Charlie for longer than a few days.

“It was really nice meeting you. I hope Charlie can convince you to come visit my wife and me. You and Carolynn would hit it off.”

“Could I bring Bindi?” Owen joked as he tugged you into a hug as soon as Jeremy had released you. Charlie was quick to drag you back into his embrace, even adding a kiss to your forehead.

The airport speakers announced the second warning of their flight number boarding rather suddenly in which the trio frantically rushed. The feeling of your stomach dropped took you by surprise just as much as the manicured hand of Cherry.

 “You okay?” Cherry asked softly sliding her hand down your arm to clutch yours in hers. It was an act of comfort you both had done throughout your friendship, whether it be uncomfortable situations or heartbreak.

“I feel like I’ve known him years instead of days. Cherry, I think I’m in danger of falling for him.” You fully admitted turning your head to meet her concerned brown orbs.

“Sweetheart, you’ve never been good at doing no feelings.” Cherry replied with a squeeze of your hand, “He feels the same. Now we need you to get to your gate since you’re ditching me.”

“As much as I would adore staying here. I need to get back to England to finish packing my flat.” You informed Cherry with a small grin as her red lips parted in a gasp at your announcement.

You had temporarily relocated back to the US at eighteen when you were recruited into the CIA, and then you were sent to England for work. It was very under the cover, and Cherry knew the basics but not the entirety of your career.

“You’re coming back!” Cherry cheered grinning at what could be the best news of the week for the lawyer. No more fumbling of time zones and long distances between phone calls leading to relying on messaging.

“I am!” You beamed right back, “I’ll move to Washington for a year and then hopefully I can be transferred to Los Angeles. As much as I love Las Vegas, it isn’t the place I want to live.”

“It would make sense to move to LA since Charlie is there. You could even use the marriage being the reason you’re moving instead.” Cherry offered with her lips turned up, yet her brown eyes didn’t glitter.

Cherry missed having you around like back in high school. Living apart sucked for the two best friends but at least you would be in the same country. 

“This is insane. I still can’t believe I’m married.” You whispered, staring up at the high ceiling of the airport. You relied on your instincts to walk in the busy airport to your gate.

“I wasn’t even there.” Cherry snorted walking in complete sync until you both came to a stop at your gate. Her eyes saddened further after so many days spent together when she wasn’t working, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Knowing my mother. She’ll be planning, and as she’ll say it, a real wedding for Charlie and I.”

Another lingering hug with the caramel brunette was the last for a while as more and more distance came between you. Metres changed to different continents within hours, and suddenly you felt more alone than ever.

The rain was drizzling in London, a welcome change to the blistering heat Vegas had given you in the days you had been there. However, the most welcome sight was the six-foot-one lean frame of your father leaning against his pride and joy. The bright metallic blue with two very wide vertical stripes up the hood of it had been a staple in your family since you were twenty.

The blue Shelby Cobra had been challenging to find, but it was worth the massive grin on Theodore Y/L/N’s face. You and your mother had joined forces with your uncles to get it for your Dad, and one of them was a mechanic that did most of the work.

“Dad!” You yelled, jumping into his arms. Dad’s grip tightened around your shoulders with his face smushed into your neck.

“Darling!” He exclaimed just as he did no matter how long it had been since you saw each other. You were closest with him from father-daughter days watching football (the European version of soccer).

“Mum at home?” You questioned as he placed the small amount of luggage in the tiny boot of the car. His e/c eyes, the ones you inherited from him, twinkled with mischief and a wink.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but there’s a surprise.” He spoke ushering you into the passenger seat on the left side of the car. It was still jarring driving on the opposite side of the road in America.

“Another one to sway me from moving to Washington?” You retorted to the tall male in the driver’s seat. At the mention of moving his smile dimmed like it did when you flew to see Cherry for a while.

As he drove down the streets, your eyes scoured his features as if it had been years instead of mere weeks. He had been in Germany for business for a week when you flew out to Las Vegas. His hair still had the dark locks with grey mixed throughout as if had been since he was in his late twenties. The laugh lines still the same as they had been previously, but the most important thing was that he was still healthy.

Ted Y/L/N had beaten a severe bout of sickness a few years ago that had taken months of recovery. It was just second nature to check him before anything else.

“How’s Cherry.”

“Living happily with her success story.” You piped up, finding it would be the perfect place to start planting Charlie’s existence. Your father glanced over slightly confused as you continued, “After Harvey, Cherry signed me up for a dating app. I hit it off with someone, and I’ve been dating them ever since.”

“A dating app.” He questioned glancing over, “Aren’t those what people use to sleep around? Nothing wrong with having sex but isn’t that what the apps are predominantly used for?”

Your lip was taken between your teeth, “Some of them are. The one that Cherry did was surprisingly more about human connection. He’s originally from Canada but moved to Los Angeles for work.”

“Hm.” Ted hummed keeping his entire focus on the road, “And are you okay with this so soon after-“

“I never acknowledged this, but I waited a few months before I told you that Harvey and I broke up. I hit it off with Charlie, and well I’ve never been so in love before.”

“I sense there’s a chapter in this new love that I’m not going to be thrilled about. Out with it.” He ordered momentarily glancing over to see you sheepishly grinning, “Are you preg-“

“I married Charlie-“

To both your father’s and your horror the sound of the Shelby’s tires screeching reached your ears. The car skidded to a stop in the middle of the street with yelps coming straight from your surprised mouth. Dad’s eyes blinking owlishly at the road.

“You’re married? To someone, I’ve never even met?” The question was croaked from the middle-aged man staring straight ahead. The car slowly moved down the road as Dad applied less pressure to the pedal.

“It was so fast, but I swear you’ll meet him. He’s flying out to help me pack, and we’ll fly out to Washington. You’ll love him.” You gushed ignoring the smart of guilt at lying to the first man that had ever truly loved you.

The father that had learnt how to do your hair and supported you in everything you did; for the first few years, he had been a stay at home dad. Your mother was the one that worked and then when you got to the right age, your father returned to work. He had taught you how to ride a bike and drive, the police didn’t need to know you were driving years before you legally could.

“Your Nan is going to be pissed.” He snorted, shaking his head, “You’ll be throwing him to the wolves at the reunion.”

The reunion you had completely forgotten about. Shit.

A month later brought Charlie to your small half-packed flat in London and then straight to your parents’ house in the country. The country home had been in your family for years before your parents moved out of the city full time.

“Okay. So, your five-year-old cousin is adamant he be called Agent Jack because he works for James Bond. Don’t mention football, which is soccer in the US, or else World War III between your Nan and great-aunt Dottie will happen.”

���Oh! My mom loves ice hockey! She grew up playing until she was in high school!” You gasped glancing over at Charlie in the passenger seat of the car. He’d arrived two days ago ahead of schedule to get rested for the reunion.

This morning he had spent longer getting ready with his hair meticulously styled and his clothes chosen to fit the weather and the event. No matter how much you had soothed him, the nerves still flared. This wasn’t meeting your SO’s parents, this meeting his wife’s family who had no clue about him.

“Do I call your Dad, Mr. Y/L/N or Sir?” Charlie questioned as the country zipped by in the clear window of the car. His fingers tapped the beat to the JATP song ‘Now or Never’ on the black denim of his jeans.

“Go with Sir.” You replied, reaching one hand over to grasp his in your hand, “My Nan will interrogate you about where we would have kids. Aunt Dottie will ask if you got me pregnant and that’s I’ve never said anything about us.”

“I…really? They’ll ask that?” Charlie choked turning to face you entirely with a face pale as bleached bone. The wince you offered was enough for him to relax into the leather of the car.

“Their old ladies that live on gossip and personal questions. But don’t underestimate Nan if she gets plastered and demands an arm wrestle. You won’t win.”

The car rolled to a stop on the rocky drive filled with other vehicles of all colours and types. The house was the background feature of the menagerie of cars. It was a gorgeous colour your mom had spent weeks trying to find in countless shops before she saw it three hours away. Flowers were strategically placed for viewing pleasure.

“Your house is beautiful.” Charlie breathed circling the car to open your door without prompt just it had become second nature to him. His hazel eyes moved across the parcel of land your parents owned.

Before your lips could even part to respond, you were attacked in a hug by two little pairs of arms. The sandy coloured hair, one set of curls hitting past their shoulders and the other a mop on his head. You knew immediately it was your little cousin Jack and his twin JJ from the strength of the hug.

“Y/N!” The twins squealed jumping in their spots as their father, your uncle Seth, corralled them. His eyes crinkled with the grin that matched your father and other uncles. It was the signature L/N smile your family carried.

“Hey! It’s Agent Jack and-“

“Doctor JJ! I’m Jack’s doctor!” JJ clapped her small hands together, displaying her cute little dimples. Charlie’s quiet awe melted your traitor heart entirely, “Is he your boyfriend?” 

The three adults’ all had a deep chuckle at her cute little scrunched nose as she saw Charlie’s hand grasp yours.

“Not exactly. You know how Dad and I are married?” Seth asked, crouching in front of his little girl. Her eyes blinked in confusion, “Y/N and Charlie are married. Y/N is his wife, and he’s Y/N’s husband.”

In his usual tornado-esque style, Jack had already taken off around the side of the house to the family gathered. JJ’s hand had slid into her father’s familiar grip.

“But Daddy you and Dad are husbands? How can they be married if she’s a girl?” JJ pouted with her green eyes twinkling in suspicion.

“Well, JJ. When two boys get married, they are husbands, if two girls get married, they are wives, but if a boy and girl get married, they become husband and wife. Or maybe depending on the genders they prefer to be called partners.” Seth told his little girl as his husband Fred rested his hand on his shoulder. While Seth was fair-haired and blue eyes, his husband Fred was the example of tall, dark and handsome with green eyes.

“Okay.” JJ simply spoke, skipping over to grab Charlie’s hand in her left and yours in her right. The little girl dragging you two in the direction her brother had disappeared around where the noise grew louder.

“Relax.” You whispered to the wide-eyed Canadian steadily becoming quieter and more nervous. As soon as you rounded the corner of the house, JJ released your hands to chase after Jack and your other cousins.

“You have a big family,” Charlie mumbled, looking over the adults and the young children set away. His eyes found your parents wrapped in each other’s arms talking with a woman confidently wearing the marks of time and wisdom, “You have your father’s smile.”

“I know.” You spoke tugging him to your parents, “Dad! Mum!”

The couple glanced over to see the man that had snuck into their family without a hint. Your father was quick to tug you in a bear hug with a resounding kiss on your forehead. Mum had yanked Charlie into a hug as well that relaxed him with the words she whispered in his ear.

“This is Charlie Gillespie. Charlie this is my mum and dad Theodore and Amelia.” You swiftly introduced the three people in your life.

It was tense for a moment before it melted away, “He’s a lot better than Harvey.”

“Ted!” Mum spoke slapping his arm, “It’s not his fault he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth-“

“-and a boob in his hand.” Dad chortled, dodging the slap from your mortified Mum. Her dark eyes wide open in shock, she really shouldn’t be surprised with your father, at how he had spoken.

Charlie’s lips parted in a strong of impish laughter bringing a grin to your little party’s faces. All the nerves from before melted from the Canadian as he found he fit in perfectly with your parents. His hand never felt yours the rest of the night, and with it, you wished you didn’t have to live with the ruse. You had fallen swiftly for the Canadian and wished this was marriage was real.

It wouldn’t be until Charlie, and you had devoured the food and two mugs of beer that the truth comes out in the upstairs bathroom. You couldn’t be sure who made the first move, but two hours upon arriving at the reunion Charlie had you pinned against the bathroom door. Lips moving against each other like you’d been made for each other.

“Mhm.” Charlie moaned, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. The vision of seeing your bruises hips had a flutter in your stomach.

Heat rose from your stomach to your chest as your fingers slid into his once perfectly groomed hair. His lips parting yours with a warmth that washed over your entire body like the sun brushing skin after peeking behind a fluffy cloud. If Heaven was a feeling, this would be it.

Charlie’s hands slid under your shirt to rest on the warmth of your hips, a fire flared at his mere touch. He only parted from your lips at the sound of the floorboards outside the bathroom.

“Call me crazy, or the beer is making me say this. I’ve never felt this way for someone like I do for you,” Charlie whispered brushing your temple with his lips. The words created a shiver down your spine, “We have this connection and ease between us. I see you in the sunlight when I first wake up, and all I ever want to do is cuddle you close.”

“Char-“

“I know we’ve gone about this out of order, but I’d really like to be more than what we are. I want to be more than a guy making your ex regret hurting you. I want to be more than just your accidental husband. I want to do this the right way.”

“Me too.” You fully admitted, “Watching you geek out over my dad’s car with me. I want to keep seeing that. There’s something I’ve been keeping from you that I need to say before this goes further.”

“What’s wrong?” Charlie murmured cupping your cheeks in his warm hands. His hazel eyes lingered on your swollen lips that no doubt matched his own.

Your bright e/c eyes flickered between his hazel orbs with something he couldn’t quite decipher.

“If we do this, there are things I won’t be able to talk to you about when it comes to my job. It’s sensitive information, and no matter how much I trust you, I won’t be able to say anything. Charlie, the reason I’m moving to Washington is because I finished my tasks.”

Your hands moved around as you spoke to the silent Canadian just staring at you, “So what kept you in England for so long?”

“I work for the CIA. I have since I was recruited on a college campus a few years ago.” You revealed to the flabbergasted actor blinking rapidly. His mouth hung open, and his eyes widened more than you thought possible.

“So, we’re both in the business of deceit and pretending.” He grumbled, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “I’m an actor by the way. It doesn’t matter what your job is, all I care about is trying to make this work.”

That was the moment that turned your relationship around, a year later, you had traditionally renewed your vows. Your wedding in the backyard of your parents’ house with friends and family watching as you walked down the aisle in your white wedding dress. Charlie waiting with the officiant unaware of the tiny gift of a little bean inside your belly growing.

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[stoney-siren]

May I Have This Dance? PART 1 (Sal Fisher x Gender Nuetral!Reader)

I decided to stray a bit from my usual AOT content and give some attention to the other fandoms I’m in, like Sally Face! :)

Summary: Senior year at Nockfell High is coming to an end, which means prom night it coming up soon. Although usually Sal Fisher is not one for high school get-togethers, he’s been wanting to ask (Y/N) to the dance, though it’s not as easy as most people make it seem. He just doesn’t know how to ask them.

This is the first part, I plan on there being two parts to this fanfic, possibly three.

TW: Swearing, possible mentions of drug use, slight angst? 

“Bullshit!” Larry burst into laughter, throwing his head back as he held his stomach. His rather embarrassed friend tensed up at his reaction. “You wanna ask (Y/N) to prom?” He continued to giggle, as his fit of laughter died down.

“Can you try and be quiet? What if your mom hears.. She’s gonna never let it down!” Sal tugged at his pigtails out of nervousness, pacing around the room.

“Come on, who cares? You should ask them!” The taller boy encouraged as he shut the door to his bedroom, turning his attention back to his blue haired buddy.

If only it was that easy, Sal wanted to say, but he just knew Larry would shoot back with something irritating and snarky. So instead, Sal fell back onto one of Larrys beanbags and let out a loud and irritated sigh. His friend soon followed persuit, jumping onto the beanbag that sat beside Sals.

“I just.. Cant. Who would wanna spend prom night with somebody like me anyways?” His self deprication captured Larrys attention faster than the reaction of a mouse on a mouse trap.

“Oh don’t give me that shit Sally dude! Anybody would be lucky to have you, everyone knows it too! You’re caring and funny, quick witted and honestly just somebody everyone wants to have by their side!” Larry exlaimed, though his words fell upon deaf ears.

Sal was too busy just day dreaming about (Y/N), he admired everything about them, the way they laughed, the color of their beautiful eyes, and the pure look of joy that washes over their face whenever he lets them paint his nails or put stickers on his prosthetic.

“Sal? Sally Face! You listening?” Larry called out, finally getting Sals attention.

“Oh, shit, sorry.. No, I’m not.” Sal shook his head and grabbed ahold of his pigtails again, glancing down at the floor and sighing.

Larry hated seeing his friend like this, he was aware of how low Sals confidence could be sometimes, but he’d never dare to point it out in fear of upsetting him or making things worse. He wished he could show Sal what all their friends and himself thought of him, then maybe he’d see himself in a brighter light.

“I think you should head back upstairs and get some rest now, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, alright?” Larry gave Sal a light punch on the shoulder before standing up and walking to the door with him.

“Yeah, alright. See you tomorrow Larry Face.” With that, he shut the door behind himself and headed to the elevator, pausing at the second floor button, thinking of (Y/N) before hitting the fourth floor button.

Your POV

You laid in your bed peacefully, staring up at the ceiling as the light from your lava lamp illuminated the room. The light was your favorite color, lighting up the side of your face as your thoughts raced for the future. Usually on a Sunday night, you’d play your music so loud that Todd would come over from his apartment and tell you to keep it down, but so many things were on your mind that you just didn’t have the energy to start a little fight with Todd. 

“Maybe I’ll talk to Ash about it, she always has good advice.” You mumbled as you turned and killed your lava lamps energy. You have had a crush on Sal Fisher since Sophomore year, but you never got the chance to talk about it with him or anyone for that matter.

Letting out a final sigh, you shut your eyes and melted into a world of memories and dreams.

“(Y/N)! Get up dear! You’re gonna be late for school if you don’t!” Your mother called from outside your room, this was how you usually woke up before school. She would always pretend to be in a panic, and tell you that you’re late to try and get you out of bed sooner, though sometimes her act would be real. That’s why you always check the clock in your room to see if she was lying or not.

“It’s 7:30, mom.” You mumbled as you pushed the blankets off yourself, Todd probably wasn’t even here yet to walk with you to school. Since you two both lived on the second floor, you guys have walked to school together since the first day of Freshmen year, then Larry, Ash, and Sal came into the picture and you guys became a team.

“Still, get up!” She called, her voice sounded more further away this time. You knew she wasn’t gonna stop pestering you until you got up. So while pushing the covers off your body, you got to your feet and picked out and outfit for today.

After breakfast, you brushed your teeth just as you heard a knock at the door, and your mom open the door to greet Todd.

“Hi Mrs. (L/N), is (Y/N) ready?” His voice grew louder as you stepped closer to the door and stopped next to your mom.

“Hey Todd, I’m ready!” Giving him a smile, he returned it as he lead you down the hallway and to the elevator. He hit the button as he attempted to make conversation with you.

“So how have your grades been? Excited for the end of the year?” He turned his head to make eye contact with you.

“Yeah I guess, I’m still not completely sure what I want to do once I graduate, but I know I’ll have you and everybody else to go to for support.” You responded in a tired tone, still a bit dazed from just waking up only 10 minutes ago. Todd nodded at your response as the elevator chimed.

The two metal doors slid open to reveal Sal and Larry standing on the other side, they looked ready for school just as much as you and Todd.

“Oh hey!” Larry called, “You two look like shit!” He laughed, Todd grimaced in annoyance while you just rubbed one of your eyes, trying to wake up.

“Yeah well your eyebags got eyebags and I’m sure Sals looking more than tired under that prosthetic.” Todd shot back as he stepped into the elevator, you supposed everyone was up late studying, since Mrs. Packerton always has extremely hard ‘end of the year’ tests. The fact that she’s a cultist makes trying to focus more difficult.

You stepped into the elevator and stood between Todd and Sal, taking notice in how quiet Sal was. It wasn’t unusual for him to not say anything, but a small hello could always be heard from him whenever we saw each other.

“You okay Sally Face? You seem a bit quiet.” Larry seemed to get a kick out of comment since he snickered and nudged Sal with his elbow.

“Yeah, what’s up bud?” Larry questioned in an almost teasing tone, it confused you, but you also knew that Sal and Larry always had their own little inside jokes. Maybe something happened last night while they were studying together, probably something involving Larry’s terrible toilet humor, or maybe they just got high again and completely blew off studying.

“Nothing, just tired.” Thats when you noticed how red Sals ears were, though you didn’t think much of it since you just wanted to get to school and get these seven hours of hell over with.

School never failed to be the same as always, with Travis and his homophobic and just down right ignorant remarks, the lunch food always smelling strange (especially the bologna), and of course messing around in the hallways and during lunch time with some of your favorite people. This time at lunch though you asked to speak with Ashley in private, she and Todd were the best advice givers you knew, but you just didn’t have as much faith in Todd in keeping a secret as you did with Ash.

“Whats up, (Y/N)?” The two of you stood behind the school as you anxiously looked around for any people who could overhear you.

“I, um, I needed some advice. It’s about the prom coming up this week..” You mumbled as Ashley burst into squeals of excitement, smiling widely to you.

“Oh I’m so excited you came to me for help! So you want to ask somebody, right? Who is it? Is it Larry?” She giggled and nudged you, trying her best to get the name out.

“No! It’s Sal!” Not even sure where that little outburst came from, you lifted a hand over your mouth in shock, as Ashley’s face only stretched further into happiness as she grabbed your shoulders.

“Oh I just knew you had a crush on him! You always laugh at all his jokes, and compliment him whenever you get the chance! And if you ask me, I think he might like you too!” That suggestion made your face burn, the thought of Sal actually returning such feelings made your heart warm.

“C- Come on, don’t say that!.. But do you really think that?” Ash nodded in response as she took your hand.

“You have to ask him out! And I know just who can help us.”

[dancingazaleas]

Can you write a modern au Historia Reiss x fem!reader imagine where the reader is in a band and has a very punk rock style, and Historias the popular cheerleader everybody drools over, and they hate each other but at a party some girl is flirting with the reader so historia takes her and fucks the reader silly in a bathroom and after confesses her feelings to r?

historia reiss | promise

ofc!!! pls i literally love cheerleader!historia. i hope this is good enough <33 !!

18+ pls ! [unedited]

warnings/notes: cursing, use of alcohol and drugs, eventual smut, jealous dom!historia, modern au!, college au!, cheerleader!historia, bathroom sex, degradation, slight praise, enemies to lovers supremacy, fem reader!, finger fucking, hints at pegging, and aftercare

you’re pissed, so pissed that you’re seeing white. you only know that you’re sitting under the bleachers of your college campus and that your best friend, annie, is sitting beside you.

historia reiss, the popular cheerleader adored by everyone, decided it would funny if she pulled a prank on you. the prank being drenched in ice water and then pouring pink glitter on your body from the second floor of campus.

the glitter stuck everywhere, even in your mouth. before you scrubbed some of it off, you looked like a bath bomb. the water made it stickier and made you cold.

you don’t know what kind of vendetta historia has against you, you’ve only just met her two years ago! you hadn’t even really talked her up until your freshman year of college. even then, you don’t think you had said anything rude or wrong.

you just assume she gets pleasure out of your suffering.

you’re ranting about historia to annie, who witnessed the whole incident, still covered head-to-toe in glitter. she’s smoking a cigarette and listening to you absentmindedly, a sign that she’s getting slightly annoyed. she grabs your jaw with her hand and turns your face towards her. she’s taking in a breath and you know exactly what she’s about to do.

when she pulls the cigarette away, she blows the smoke into your face and let’s go of your jaw.

“thanks for that,” you grunt, the smell always seems to calm you down for some odd reason.

“y’know, instead of ranting, you could go home and take a shower,” she looks sleepy as she holds onto her cigarette.

“i know. but she’s just so frustrating! wanna know what makes her even more frustrating?!”

annie decides to play along, she thinks you ranting is funny, “what?”

“she’s hot. scratch that, she’s literally gorgeous. she looks like a fucking goddess and has the personality of a witch,” you shout angrily, following annie’s movements of getting up and walking towards your dorm.

“i dunno,” she snickers, “she’s pretty nice to me.”

“yeah, cause she’s got some sort of vendetta against me. i swear—i have never done a single thing to her!! do you remember when she bashed our band?! does she even listen to punk?!”

annie’s made a mistake in encouraging you, “anyways. speaking of our band, don’t forget we’re playing tonight at eren’s house.”

“you mean at his frat house,” you snort, bumping your shoulder into her’s. you immediately regret it when you pull away and see pink glitter stick to her shirt and a shiver going down her spine.

“yeah, whatever. thank god he’s loaded enough to pay for a band. i can’t believe his dad just gives him and zeke cash,” annie coughs while she chuckles, smoke puffing out of her nose.

you’re laughing at her coughing, slapping her firmly on the back as you walk.

you don’t notice large blue eyes staring at you from far away.

————

you’re trying to ignore the idiotic comments annie’s making while mikasa does your eyeliner.

you, mikasa, annie, and—surprisngly—jean are getting ready for your show tonight.

originally, it had just been you, annie, and mikasa until mikasa and jean had started dating. she vouched that he could play the drums—and he definelty could. he also gets along surprisingly well with you and annie.

mikasa usually sings back-up for you—despite your begging for her to be the lead—and plays the electric keyboard.

annie’s on bass guitar. she gets stupidly smug everytime she’s done playing and the praise she gets from her girlfriend doesn’t help. annie also writes most of your songs.

“guys, we should make a bet,” annie’s twirling some of her hair, eyeing you and mikasa.

“what’s the bet,” jean smirks and raises a bushy brow. mikasa and you give a hum of approval.

“i bet that one girl is gonna be all over (name) tonight,” you snort sarcastically.

“elizabeth? i think she’s trying to seduce me so i’ll partner up with her for this project we have coming up in our music history class,” mikasa’s pullled away, screwing the cap of the eyeliner back onto the bottle. she hands you coal black lipstick.

“you know what i bet,” jean starts, you know it isn’t gonna be good, “historia’s gonna be eyefucking (name) all night.”

you’re in the middle of applying lipstick but you stop at his statement.

“no, before you say something, jean’s gotta point,” mikasa muses, fanning her hand.

“yeah. dunno how you didn’t noticed,” annie shrugs, hopping out of her chair and stretching her arms upwards.

you’re irritated and finished with your lipstick, eyebrows furrowed bitterly.

“anyways,” you grit your teeth, “it’s showtime.”

————

it’s been five minutes since you and the band performed, and after all that belting you just want a drink. you’re walking through the messy and huge kitchen, trying to avoid stepping on spilled shots and egg yolk—who knows—because these boots were expensive.

luckily, most people are partying like a mob in the main room of the smelly frat house. it smells like weed, everywhere. and when you open the fridge you see a long platter of chocolate brownies, is eren alright? you shrug internally, snatching a water bottle that’s sitting on the top shelf.

after you’ve closed the fridge door and opened it, you’re chugging the water bottle like your life depends on it. when you pull away, you try to not notice the lipstick stain and that you’ve drank the bottle more than halfway. you’re leaning on the island in the middle of the kitchen, you don’t plan on partying too much since you’re supposed to be the designated driver for annie, mikasa, and jean.

you’re about to take another swig of your water, eyes staring down at your phone and continuing to read a article. before you can bring the bottle to your lips, teasing laughter from your front is distracting you.

it’s historia, wearing a baby blue v-neck tank top that ends at her ribs. she has a white skirt on, pulled up to the middle of her bellybutton and stopping at her upper thighs. her shoes are white and chunky with sparkly blue butterflies on the sides of them. her makeup’s cute, a light blue sprinkling on the outside corners of her eyes that tickled her cheekbones, a light and natural (for her at least) pink lipstick on her lips coated with shiny gloss. she’s pretty.

“fuck do you want,” you frown with narrowed eyes, you’re praying there aren’t anymore tricks.

“nothing, nothing!,” she’s got a cheery smile on her face, “just wanted to see how you were doing! i cant even do that?”

rolling your eyes, you scoff, “not after you drenched me in ice cold water and then poured glitter on me. it took me two hours to get rid of the glitter in the shower.”

she’s opening her mouth, but you’re already done with her shit, “fuck off, dude.”

you’re stomping out of the kitchen, huffing with frustration. what the fuck was historia trying to play at? she’s such a cunt, pulling these mean pranks on you with no provocation and then coming up to you after and asking how you are?

you’re seething. you’re so angry you’re not even paying attention to where you’re going.

but it’s interrupted when you bump into someone’s back. lower... back.

said person, turns around and looks down at you. she’s tall, and you’ve seen her around campus with eren and zeke. she’s quiet and cunning, you’ve heard rumors that she gets paid to beat people up sometimes. you can’t really judge her, money’s money.

but she’s also gorgeous. glowing gold eyes and choppy blonde hair. she’s wearing a loose black blazer that closes at her sternum and down, with nothing underneath. she’s got some kind of necklace—you think it says ‘p’ or ‘z’—and pretty silver rings on her fingers. her heels make her tower over you more than she probably would without them on.

“shit, my bad,” you sigh and look away.

she shakes her head, the tiniest smile painting her face and her cheeks turn a little red.

“you’re alright,” she hums, “i don’t think i’ve met you. i’ve definitely seen you around, but no one’s ever given me a name.”

“oh, i’m (name),” you smile shyly, “i don’t know your name either.”

she chuckles a bit, somehow wrapping her hand in your’s and leading you to a nice loveseat. her nails are painted black and you feel inclined to put your legs over her lap.

“i’m surprised,” and that’s when you notice zeke and pieck on the couch next to you, “there are a lot of rumors about me. however, i guess whoever told you—or didn’t—left me anonymous. i’m yelena.”

you give a laugh, watching her throw her arm up onto the top of the couch. you’re cuddling her side within seconds, drawing a deep chuckle from her. her other hand reaches to your cheek, making you look up at her. she’s holding your chin with her thumb and staring at you with her hypnotizing eyes.

“you’re just the cutest,” she mumbles, letting go of your face and tapping your nose.

you’re getting embarrassed at the attention, and you don’t know what to say other than ‘thank you’. you’ve never been pussy whipped a day in your entire life, but you think you might change that.

she’s leaning in closer, ignoring the couple, who was staring at you two with amusement, that sat on the couch cuddling. you feel like you recognize them for a moment, but the thought it forgotten whenever yelena kisses you fervently.

she’s running her tongue across your lip and the shiver that goes down your spine makes you realize she has a tongue piercing. she’s pushing you down to lay on the couch, to which you happily oblige, her hand crawling up to your neck.

before you can even let her shove her tongue in your mouth and choke you, your hand is being tugged and all of a sudden your upper torso and body is on the floor and your head is aching. you’re dazedly looking at yelena, who’s just as surprised as you are, then turning to the couple on the couch.

holy fucking hell, how did you not realize that the couple was pieck and zeke. that isn’t even your main focus when another tug to your wrist pulls your lower half off the couch.

“what the fuck?!” you’re suddenly not dazed anymore, “let go of me!”

you’re snatching your arm away and scrambling to your feet, tugging down your short dress that rode up. you turn around to face the assaulter, only to look down and see historia.

historia grabbed you?!

before you can even scream or slap her, she’s, once again, pulling you away by your wrist. for such a small girl, she’s got a tight grip.

you’re stumbling as you follow her, not like you couldn’t, yelling profanities. you pass by annie, who spits out her drink at the sight of you, it startles her girlfriend, hitch. you mouth a ‘help!’ towards her just as you’re swung forward.

it takes you a second to balance yourself out, and before you can turn yourself around, you’re being shoved forward.

what the fuck is her deal?!

you’re pushed into a bathroom, finally turning around to see historia as you fall on your ass. she’s slammed the door closed and locked it, staring at you on the ground.

“the fuck is your damage,” you scream, leaning against the bathroom counter.

“you’re a fucking slut, that’s what!” she’s yelling back, now standing in front of you. her hands are trapping you against the counter, and you’re looking down at her.

“you’re a dirty little slut. you can’t help but get down with a woman when i’m not with you for five fucking minutes,” you can’t even open your mouth and opted to push yourself towards the counter more as you squeeze your thighs together.

“look at you,” she’s laughing mockingly, “you look like a dog in heat. are you enjoying this, you fucking whore?”

you whimper, shaking your head side-to-side.

“you’re a liar,” she’s laughing again, standing on her tip toes to brush her lips against your’s.

“i’m not.”

“if you’re not, go ahead and push me away then,” she smirks, leaning closer.

you look away, listening to the mocking giggle that she was releasing right in your face. her left hand is grabbing you by the jaw and forcing you to look at her.

“can i kiss you,” her look softens and you nod at her.

“yes,” and within a second, her lips are on your’s. the kiss is surprisingly gentle and sweet.

with a bit on your lip, her tongue is rubbing against your’s and her hands sliding under the thin straps of your dress. you’re whining when she pulls away and laughs. your dress is halfway down your body, chest jumping up and down as you pant from the lack of breath.

“look at you, baby,” she turns your head to the side, which gives you a profile view of yourself in the mirror. your lipstick’s smudged in the corner of your mouth, eyeliner’s smuged as well as your eyeshadow.

weak product.

“you need better makeup,” she’s giggling as she leans her head towards your neck.

she’s kissing and sucking almost everywhere on your neck and chest, as if she were marking her property. moans are bouncing off the walls as her hands release your boobs from the strapless bra you’re wearing and sucking on your nipples. honestly, you’re glad it’s off. it’s been tiring having to pull it up everytime it slipped even just a bit.

you tug at her blonde hair when her small hand gropes one tit and her mouth bites at the other. she’s tugging the rest of your dress down with her free hand, and it pools around your boots. she goes back up to kiss your lips, laughing in your mouth as you struggle to kick off your boots. she’s kissing at your cheek and ear, tugging at the waistline of your fishnet tights.

“might wanna take these off too if you don’t want them ripped,” yelping when she bites at your earlobe.

“i...,” you’re catching your breath, “need help.”

she giggles while nodding, helping you shimmying the tights down to your knees.

“jump up on the counter, babe. it’ll make it easier for me,” you’re obident and jumping on the cool bathroom counter, it makes you shiver.

historia’s on her knees, shoes kicked off, and her fingers tickle your legs when she’s sliding the tights off your legs. she’s got a sultry look on her face when she throws said tights over her shoulder, palming your kneecaps. she bites back her smirk when she pulls your knees apart, showing off your black panties. you fall back against the mirror and you lean mostly on your elbows, ignoring the loud bang that came from it.

her mouth’s leaving open mouthed kisses against your inner thighs, pants leaving your mouth. her fingers hook around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down quickly whenever you lift your hips.

your going to close your legs, but her hands prevent you from doing so. her eyes are glued to your pussy, lips spread open and your wetness shining in the light. you’ve got a little hair on your pubis, but that isn’t going to stop historia reiss from changing her name to sasha braus.

she’s sucking at your clit and spreading your legs apart as far as she can. she pulls away from your pussy just for a second.

“keep your legs open,” she says, a thumb rubbing circles into your clit.

it’s lazy and it’s satisfying, but it’s not enough to make you cum. she knows that.

you’re letting out high pitched moans and fingers tangled in her golden locks as she eats you out like a man starved.

‘i wish i had realized that i’m gay sooner,’ you think as historia slowly slides her middle finger inside of you.

you’re throwing your head back against the mirror when she suddenly adds a second finger, claiming that you could take it since you’re a slut.

considering your wetness is dripping down your ass and onto the counter, you can’t really object the statement.

she’s curling her fingers inside you, mouth closed around your clit. your moans go up an octave when she finds the spongy part inside of you, thrusting her fingers in and out of you after she angles her digits.

“fuck!” you moan and start clawing at historia’s free arm, which is holding down your hips.

“h-historia...,” you pant, “gonna cum... pl..please let me cum.”

her laughter sends vibrations across your clit, and that’s what sends you over the edge. you’re crying out as historia helps you ride out your orgasm by slowing her fingers down and pulling away from your clit. historia’s admiring you while she wipes off your juices from her chin, a small smile adorning her lips.

your head is thrown back against the mirror—once again. eyes rolled back and mouth opened in a silent moan. the hand that was gripping at her arm is clenched in a fist that has your knuckles painted white. your toes are curled and your back is arching in the air.

she doesn’t pull her fingers out of you until your calm, letting you catch your breath before she does it all over again.

———

your legs are trembling as she helps you sit down on the toilet.

you know you look like a mess—historia’s been forcing you to watch yourself. the eyeliner and mascara you have on is now smeared and ran down your face since you cried. your lipstick is smeared up and down, worse than last time, and your hair is messed up and tangled from historia pulling on it.

historia’s squatting before you, looking for a rag to wet down and clean you up with.

“next cabinet over,” you breath, throwing your head back.

“you know who’s bathroom this is?”

“yeah, jean’s in this frat too. him and marco share it. this place is pretty nice when there isn’t a party going on,” you giggle, somehow this whole situation seems funny to you.

she’s running hot water over the rag she now has, staring at herself in the mirror. historia’s got hickeys on her neck too and teeth marks on shoulders. she’s got glittery blue on her cheek, must be her mascara.

she turns off the water and wrings it out. she walks over to you, nudging your legs open with her knee. you comply and absentmindedly reach for one of her hands to hold. she takes the offer, squatting in front of you and cleaning up the slightly dried cum and juices on your thighs and vagina.

you shiver and let out little whines and whimpers, still sensitive from the previous orgasms. historia was also still wearing something. something that you didn’t even know she had.

a fucking 6 inch strap on.

“by the way,” you start, “how’d you get your strap-on here?”

“i came to the house before eren started throwing the party. i brought a bag with me and just hid it in the empty cabinet. i think eren wanted to hook up with me and mentioned something about pegging. brought it in case,” she explains, small smile spreading across her face as she starts cleaning your face.

you start giggling again, the hand that wasn’t holding her hand weakly grabbing at her wrist.

“hisu... can i get a kiss,” you pucker your lips when she pulls away the rag from you. she flips the rag to a clean slide, rubbing herself in the same areas as she did for you.

historia holds your cheek and gives you the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had.

“i’m gonna take you back to mine and ymir’s place. you’re still in sub-space and you wobble instead of walk,” she says, squatting down again to help you get your panties on.

she’s able to get your dress on the lower half of your body, but you both realize there’s a fucking cum stain on the chest. historia gives you a jacket that was in her bag, zipping it halfway. the dress stayed sitting at your waist, you’re to tired to get it open even if you have a cover up.

she’s done cleaning everything up within ten minutes, including herself. she throws the rag in a hamper in the bathroom closet that had jean’s name written on it in sharpie.

she’s slipping the bag on her shoulder and helping you walk with the other one. when you walk out, ymir is leaning on the wall by the door with a smirk.

ymir squats down a bit, laughing at your shaky legs every time you took a step. historia and her manage to get you on ymir’s back. you fall asleep before you three can get to the car.

———

when you wake up, your whole lower body is sore. your eyelids feel heavy as you open them, coming to your senses. you recognize ‘dance moms’ playing in the background and historia eating cereal as she watches.

you groan lowly, and historia finally notices your consciousness.

“so...,” you yawn while you stretch your arms up into the air, “talk about last night?”

historia nods while she chews, “so basically, i was jealous that you were hooking up with another girl that wasn’t me.”

“but why would you be jealous...? i thought you hated me,” you rub your cheek against the pillow you’re laying your head on.

historia blushes as she looks away with a pout, “i never hated you... i just... i didn’t like the feelings i have for you.”

“oh,” you lay on your back and ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks, “what are.... the feelings..?”

“i may or may not love you,” she hides her face by holding her bowl full of cereal to her chin.

you don’t say anything for a few moments, trying to think of what you wanted to say.

“i... i love you too. but, that doesn’t just mean i forgive and forget all the horrible shit you’ve done to me. i’ll start dating you when i feel that you’ve... ‘atoned’ for your sins,” you sigh, “it’s gonna take some time but if you want this to work or even start, you’ve gotta make it up to me and understand where i’m coming from.”

she looks at you with slight excitement, “i... of course! i was really mean to you and you didn’t deserve that, no matter how much i disliked you. i promise to make it up to you.”

she’s holding her pinky finger up to you.

you smile and link your pinkies with her’s, “promise.”

[gucciwins]

Always Be Your Friend

Word count: 8990

 It’s easy to love your best friend but it’s not easy being in love with them.  Harry and Y/N became friends from the moment they first met. Will they take a chance and confess their feelings or will they watch each other fall in love with someone else.  *warning a mention of sexual harassment in the story*

Jeff had invited her to a small gathering at his house so that she could meet a few of his friends being new to the area and all, but when she arrived, she wasn't expecting a backyard full of people mingling and drinking beers. She's counted over twenty people, and she's yet to find Jeff. 

Y/N was about to get herself water from a red cooler when he finally spotted her. Jeff's quick to apologize but promises that everyone is kind, and his girlfriend went a little overboard with inviting her friends. She brushes him off and lets him know she'll be fine. 

If only she believed that lie.

She decides to leave but stays when she finds a small path that leads her to an opening, and she's met with a beautiful view of the sunset. She sits on white clean bench and enjoys the colors the sky is painting. She's lost in thought that she fails to hear the footsteps approaching her, but she doesn't startle when she hears a crunch of leaves breaking her of her trance.  

Her gaze is locked on Gucci loafers, which she assumes are paired with Gucci socks. She slowly starts to move her gaze up to his body, a small smile on her face as she sees the purple flared pants (later on would learn he calls them trousers and soon she would as well). As her gaze reaches his face, she can't help thinking how nice the white shirt he wears shows off his tanned skin nicely. She doesn't let her eyes linger too long on his tattoos, but she thinks they are beautiful. Her favorite part of his outfit might be the blue bandana wrapped around his neck. She finally meets his eyes and decides right then and there that green is her new favorite color. The sunset makes them appear lighter. He's staring at her with a smile on his face, dimples on full display. 

Y/N looks down at herself; she's wearing a wide-leg jumpsuit, a rust color, and if she's being honest, she looks really good. Thankfully, no one wants to make a first impression under-dressed; at least that was what her mother taught her. 

She doesn't turn to look at him anymore and keeps her eyes in front of her. 

"Never seen you before, around from here?" His voice was slow and soothing. His accent is sweet as honey. 

He really surprised her with the accent, that might just have convinced her he must be the most perfect human from his tall, lean stature to the brown curls to the captivating green eyes. 

"I'm new. Jeff is my friend." She pauses. "Acquaintance met him a week ago at work, and we hit it off. I've been here two weeks officially." 

"Jeff's great, although his girl is quite popular."

She laughs and agrees with him. 

"Sorry, I'm Harry." He approaches her with his hand stretched out.

She smiles when Harry repeats her name back as they let go of each other's hands. He then takes a seat, and they fall into easy conversation. 

"I really love your tattoos, do you get them done around here?" She asks, genuinely curious eyes locked on the beautiful mermaid on his arm. 

"Most, done at this shop, a buddy of mine works at. He's really talented, and I trust him. A few, I've gotten when I was traveling."

She hums to let him know she's listening. 

"Got lots more than just these, but might be inappropriate to undress in front of a stranger." He says honestly, not wanting her to be uncomfortable. 

"Here I thought we were becoming friends," she teases.

He laughs, shocked at her response. She smiles, glad they share the same type of humor.

"Got any of your own?" 

"I've got two, but one no one knows about." She answers him honestly.

"I've got three stars behind my right ear." She pauses and looks at him before crossing her left foot across her thigh. She moves her jumpsuit higher and there on her ankle is a peach. "I got a peach when I was eighteen because I wanted a tattoo, and the reason I got a peach is still unknown to me to this day." 

"Peaches are sweet. So are you."

She blushes but stills looks at him. "That's your first impression of me."

He nods. "You could have ignored me and left or not even answered me or worse answered like a jerk for not knowing your name already but instead let a strange walk into your bubble." 

"I like you, Harry. Think the accent won me over."

"Oh, really," He smirks. "Wasn't the dimples or piercing green eyes."

"Eh.." She shrugs

She laughs, and Harry can't help but join her.

On a bench watching a sunset, Harry and Y/N become friends.

~

"Harry!" She screams as she walks through the backdoor. "I've run out of almond butter."

"Broke into my house, why?" Harry replies as he walks into the kitchen, hair wet. He's dressed in grey sweats and a black hoodie. He's got scruff growing, and as much as she loves to tease him about it, Harry knows how much she loves it. 

"I didn't break in." She's spreading Harry's almond butter onto her slice of toasted bread. "The back door was open which means come right in." 

Harry's standing there watching her take a bite of her toast. "Peach, how are you already eating when you've been here less than five minutes?" He narrows his eyes and looks at his unplugged toaster that sits next to his coffee machine that is surprisingly already brewing. "Did you run here with it in your hand?"

She scratches her neck lightly, index finger dragging slowly. "Umm...of course not."

"Right, you wouldn't because you live a thirty minute walk away. Running only means you'd get more germs on it."

She rolls her eyes at Harry's concern. "Are you hungry, I'll make you something. I have time on my hands before I have to run back home." 

Harry grins, allowing her to drop the topic and quickly agrees because he adores her cooking. "I'll have your egg whites special, please."

She nods, kissing his forehead before moving to the fridge to get the things out she'll need. Harry stares at her and thinks back to when he first met her. He thinks it's insane he went so long without her in his life. Harry owes it all to Jeff that he kept bringing her to their outings when she first moved here. Harry will never admit that to him, he doesn't want to have to name his first child after him. 

Harry furrows his brow in confusion. It's Saturday, and she always stays the weekend with him.

"You usually stay over?" He questions as she hands him his plate. "Why do you have to leave?"

"Cassie set me up on a date." She looks down at her nails and frowns seeing a few chipped and she knows it is from all the cleaning she has been doing at home because work has been slow and she needed to keep busy. "I'm going to cancel it." She decides instantly. 

She takes off her sweater and settles herself on the chair next to Harry taking a drink of his coffee. She hums at the sharp taste, one she learned to appreciate after being his friend for years. 

"Just like that," Harry is trying his best to hide his excitement but knows he's failing miserably.

"My nails look atrocious. It's like I'd be showing up naked" She physically shivers at the thought. 

"We can do face masks and each other's nails." Harry says after taking back his coffee, knowing she'd drink it all without meaning to.

She lights up at Harry's suggestion. 

"Yes, oh, can I use the candy apple one?" she asks her eyes locking with his and Harry melts in his seat at the innocent look she's giving him. He doesn't remember a time he's told her no.

As soon as she hears the word yes come out of his mouth, she's racing up the stairs to gather up the things they'll need. 

He hears a thump upstairs and is about to make his way up when he hears an "I'm good." He laughs and washes his plate before heading to the living room. Harry turns the tv on and decides on parks and rec because it's their favorite to watch together.  

"I got you black with glitter. Starry starry night is a beautiful color." She's admiring it as she walks down the steps with her arm full of things they might need, like the nail polish remover they'll need to take off her chipped color. "I know you were hiding this from me, which is why I will be using it on you." 

Harry takes some things from her and sets it on his old coffee table. "I got it a few days ago. Honestly, bought it with you in mind." He confesses. What he doesn't admit is that when he saw it, it reminded him of the first time they laid in his backyard and although that night wasn't clear enough she told him about her favorite constellations and that if she was an artist she'd draw the moons and stars every night. Looking back, Harry can say that is the moment he fell in love with her. Not that he knew that then, no, he realized much later.  

The smile on her face has his heart beating out of his chest. Harry swears she's going to kiss him. She leans in plants a big kiss on his cheek, which still makes his cheeks go pink, but his heart drops because he really wanted her lips on his. 

She pouts when she catches Harry staring at her. "You're staring because I smell right." She narrows her eyes at him as if judging him for making her self-conscious. "If I go shower, will you let me borrow some clothes?" 

Harry knows she has more than a change of clothes in her own drawer in his bedroom, but he agrees, and she's off once more up the stairs.

~

"Are you ready?" She screams walking in through the front door.

Harry had invited her out for Tuesday brunch seeing as she had the morning off, and he thinks he has the right to not be ready. He promised he'd be waiting for her on his sofa so that as soon as she walked in, they'd be off. She walks into the living room as if it's her first time there and smiles at the pictures he has scattered around. She finds a book on the couch and frowns because, of course, it's another Bukowski book. She walks up the stairs to his bedroom and walks in expecting him to be in bed, but instead, she finds him in a 'Women are smarter' t-shirt and a blanket on his lap, and she knows he's got nothing underneath. Harry's got the right earphone in, he's sitting at a makeshift table he made in his walk-in closet talking to his laptop. She assumes he's meeting with a client and is about to walk out when something catches her eye. It's a photo of her on his nightstand. Harry looks at her from the corner of his eye. He starts to fidget with a ring on his middle finger. He focuses back on his client, but he's not really listening, too busy admiring her. She doesn't feel Harry's wandering eyes on her back, but Harry knows he's been staring too long when his client repeats himself.

She approaches slowly as if the item would jump at her any second. She picked up a photo of herself from Los Angeles when they were there together in Autumn. She's smiling brightly at the cinnamon buns they made together when they were helping Jeff move into his house, and she told him she had to test out his oven. She didn't even know he took a picture of her. She's about to turn it over, but it's snatched out of her hand. 

"Hey," she pouts. 

"It's mine. Stop being so snoopy."

"I wouldn't be snoopy if you didn't leave your things out. I look really pretty there. I can see why you want me there to look at every morning."

Harry turns around to hide his blush. "You're there because I sent it to a friend of mine because I think you would be a good match." Harry wants to punch himself because out of all the lies, he had to pick that one. 

She stares at him with wide eyes. She doesn't want a date with a stranger. 

The person she wants to date is standing in front of her. Now, she definitely knows he doesn't like her because he's setting her up with someone else.

 "Is he tall?" Is her first question stopping herself from asking a second. 

"An inch or two shorter than me." 

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Well, that just won't do," she says dramatically. "My Flynn Rider is hmm..your height, or he could be taller. I don't mind." 

Harry chuckles. "He's a fan of ice cream and loves Sudoku." he states two of her favorite things. 

She narrows her eyes at him. 

"Is he a big handsome boss like you?" She jokes.

"He works in marketing in a company that works with us." 

"Marketing, I'm already bored to death." Harry gives her a pleading look. "I'll go, but only if you promise to get Anne to send me her recipe for her mince pie because I want to impress her this Christmas."

"Christmas is months away."

"I know, but I- I tried making some to practice and get better, and it was a disaster. Maybe because I'm not British, it's bad. I want Anne to like me." she says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Peach, my mum loves you. I can assure you. Those sticky buns you made on boxing day were all mum talked about for weeks after you left to spend new years with your brother's."

"Those were good. I haven't been able to make sticky buns that good. It must be the ingredients, we might just have to move to Europe, H."  

"I'll book the flight Peach, just let me know when." 

She walks out, so Harry doesn't see the blush on her face. She really loves this man and might die if she doesn't tell someone soon. 

~

"I brought ice cream!" She yells, walking in. 

She stops in the kitchen but doesn't see him or hear him. She checks his office, and it's empty, the same as his bedroom. She thinks he might be late getting out and starts The Great British Bake Off  because their conversation from days ago is still in her head. Also, it's her comfort show after a shitty date

She hears the door unlocking and is grateful because two hours she had been waiting for him. She stands up eager to greet Harry, but as she turns around, she's met with a pretty blonde she's never met. She's dressed in a black dress that reaches mid-thigh hugging her curves in all the right places with red heels, and the only thing missing is the matching red lipstick. 

Harry walks in with his hand on her back, and that's where she finds the blonde's missing lipstick. It's smudged all over Harry's lips. It’s obvious they had done a lot of kissing. She does her best to hide her shock.

The room is quiet, she thinks she can hear her heartbreaking. She reacts in a matter of seconds. Eyes wide and in panic, but she makes sure to move quickly. She shoots the girl a quick smile. She turns the tv that was on mute off, thankful to have already thrown her trash away.

"What are you doing here?" Harry practically screams at her. "Did you ditch the date?"

She's panicking, and if she doesn't stay calm, she might just pass out or better yet scream at Harry for sending her on the worst date of her life. She already let Sydney know what happened on the date but assured Syd she'd be fine at Harry's. 

Oh, how wrong she was. 

"I'm sorry it didn't go as planned. I'm leaving now." She picks her shoes up at the door and walks out with them in hand. 

Harry follows her out and is hot on her heels. 

"Did you ditch him for ice cream and movies at my house?" Harry's voice getting louder.

Harry's upset. She hasn't seen him this upset since the time she called Harry and told him she was stuck in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire and how she didn't have a spare because she kept forgetting going to the shop and buying a new one. He had let a tow truck take her home and proceeded to yell at her when she went to his house two days later. 

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'll send him a fruit basket." 

She's in her car and in the next second driving down the street. 

She wants love but not like this, it isn't supposed to hurt like this.

~

Harry wakes up at seven to get ready for his daily run with his Peach when he sees a few texts on his phone. 

Sydney: I know you had good intentions but no more dates for her.

Sydney: Please, just do anything she wants. Give her all the ice cream she wants. 

Sydney: I'm assuming it all went well, and she's still sleeping because she hasn't answered my messages.

Harry's confused and does the only logical things and calls her. 

"Syd, what are your texts about?"

"The date you sent her on. She was supposed to tell you about it once she got to your house."

"I wasn't home. Peach said she ditched him for ice cream and movies at my house." He says, not mentioning the part where he screams at her. 

Syd sighs clearly hearing the strain in his voice, "I know there's some information missing there, but I won't push because she's my friend first. The dude basically met her and said her outfit wasn't revealing enough, but she could make up for it the next time. Then during dessert, he moved to sit next to her instead of across. He tried to put his hand up her dress. She told him to stop." Syd paused. "Then he tried it again, and she jumped up from her seat. She almost bumped into the waitress but he grabbed her waist too tight to let that happen. The waitress saw how upset she was and had the hostess and security walk her to her car.  She walked out crying because she just wanted to punch him but didn't want to cause a bigger mess." 

Harry doesn't know if he wants to scream or cry. He does feel anger pouring through his veins and knows next time he sees this guy he's going to do more than yell. 

"She left last night saying she ditched and that she was sorry. I'm such an idiot." Harry knows Syd will yell at him for what he did next. "I yelled at her because I brought a girl home and she was there. I practically told her the date happened, so she'd give me space."

"You suck. I thought you were better than that. That girl is the kindest person on this planet. She loves you and she always puts your happiness in front of hers."

Harry knows she isn't coming, but a small part of him holds hope she will still show up for their run together.

He sits on his back steps, waiting for her. Texts her multiple times, leaves voicemails. Yet nothing in return. 

Peach: I'm busy.

Harry: Come over, please.

Peach: I can't. My boss asked me to come in. A presentation is due Monday.

Harry: We need to talk, call me or come over whenever. I'm always free for you.

It's almost been two weeks since she talked to Harry, but she's honestly embarrassed about how things happened. Harry implied he set her up on a date because she spent too much time with him. She's giving him what he clearly wanted. She also had to process what happened to her alone. Therapy was good, Dr. Stein was very kind. Dr. Stein didn’t make her problems feel small and it felt nice to let things out instead of letting it all bottle up. 

It felt horrible to be away from Harry so long. Since they became friends they’d never gone longer than a day without communication. She felt empty but the image of lipstick stains on his face kept her away longer than she liked to admit. She’s going to push the feelings aside because that won’t be the reason she loses her best friend. 

She's walking up Harry's steps but stops before she reaches the last one. What if he has the girl over? What if he ends the friendship? All these thoughts are running through her head and she hates having not knowing where Harry and her stand. She always hated confrontation.

As soon as she approaches the door, she sighs but squares her shoulder because she's strong. No one, not even Harry will make her feel weak. She's there to apologize for being in his home and overstepping a boundary. Then hopefully, they’ll talk it out. 

She knocks for the first time in years on his door, and it feels strange, but she sucks it up because this is the correct thing to do. 

She hears his light footsteps and takes two steps back.

He's surprised to see her when the door opens, but the smile he wears is bright before he frowns just as quickly.

"You don't need to knock Peach come in."

She steps in slowly toeing off her shoes carefully.

Harry approaches her and brings her in for a big hug. She stands there with her hands at her side. Harry lets her go when he feels her tense.

"What's wrong, Peach?" He frowns looking her up and down. "I've got lots of apologizing to do, but first, why'd you knock."

She looks up at Harry and pouts when she sees the eye bags he has. "You haven't been sleeping."

"It happens when your best friend is short with you for thirteen days, but it's okay because I deserve it." 

"I didn't mean for that to happen, but I was giving you space because I hadn't realized how much I actually bother you."

"Hey, stop that." Harry looks at her sadly. "That's not what I meant that night." 

"I can read between the lines. You don't have to hide anything. I can handle the truth." 

"Listen to me," Harry guides her head to look up at him. "I was a jerk. I let my dick do the talking. You are the most important person in my life. I love you, and I don't know what I'd do without you in my life. I was going crazy this week. It felt like an entire year went by without you."

That makes her laugh. "Stop lying."

Harry shakes his head with a smile. "I mean it. My days without you are long and boring pretty Peach."

"Well, I'm here now, and I smell something good."

Harry hesitates before opening his mouth to address the reason she was at his house that Friday night.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't be the person you go to when you're upset." She tenses up just as she was about to reach for a chocolate muffin. "I'm sorry I was such a jerk the one night you needed me most. I'm your best friend, and yet I couldn't tell that you had been crying because of an idiot I set you up with." 

She turns around to look at him, and there's no tears or anger in his eyes, only sadness. "One in three women get sexually assaulted. That's what Matt, Sydney's fiance, told me. He's a social worker.  Women have to fear men yet are never believed or seen as a victim. I told them he didn't hurt me, but Matt told me that it was harassment. I tried to belittle it but they told me it was okay to feel unsafe because it went against what I wanted.  Guess I needed someone unbiased to tell me that it's okay to be affected." She smiles. "I went to see my therapist. It felt umm…good to discuss everything that happened." 

Harry has tears running down his face, and he knows they won’t stop. Seeing her in person has made his guilt really come to surface. "I'm sorry sweet Peach. I'm sorry I sent you on a date that led to this. It's all my fault."

"H, don't cry. It's not your fault he doesn't know how to treat a woman. I'm okay. I will be okay." 

She's holding his face gently in her hands, and Harry falls more in love with her at this moment because she's never looked stronger. Although she was hurt, she won't let it break her but guide her. 

He pulls her in and hugs her tight. Harry kisses her head, whispering I love you, and I'm here for you. 

Harry knows this doesn't clear everything, but they will cross this bridge together and come out stronger. 

She squirms out of his hold. "The muffins are getting cold. I want the chocolate chips melting in my mouth."

~

Harry is sitting in the car on another business call. He's wearing a yellow shirt he woke up in and threw his black hoodie on. His sunglasses resting on his head keeping his curls from falling forward. He was in shorts and running shoes because he was supposed to run with Peach on this new trail, except this call prevented him from doing so, and she didn't want to wait around for him. He knows she doesn't like running when the sun is high, so early mornings are their go-to. Except Harry's job calls him too often on Saturday's because they know he's awake.

He's not sure how long he's been talking, but he's upset because he missed taking pictures of her for whenever they reached the top of whatever they were running to. His passenger door is pulled open, and it's Peach plopping herself down. Shoes taken off and on her feet are her Nike sliders. Harry snaps his head back into the call. 

"Look, H, I fell." She comments, not caring that he was still on his call.

Harry turns to look at her quickly and sees her knee pulled to her chest. She's rolled up her grey leggings, and there on her knee is blood rolling down. She's unfazed, and Harry knows she's clumsy but hates he wasn't there to help her up. 

"This girl helped me up and offered to walk back with me, but she could have been a serial killer for all I know and told her I was fine and ran off. Good thing I was on my way down already." 

Harry stares at this girl in disbelief because, of course, she doesn't trust anyone. "I know girls are less likely, but she was looking at my boobs, and I didn't like that." 

"Styles, you with us." His colleague asks. 

Harry looks away from her and stares back at his phone, resting on the steering wheel. 

"Sorry, my girl had an accident, and I got to take care of it." They end after that and Harry takes out the first aid kit she gifted him to have in his car for emergencies. He knew she did it for herself more and who was he to object. Harry missed the blush on her cheeks when he said, "my girl," and she's thankful for that. He cleans her cut gently but quickly with all the practice he's had on her. He puts a bandage on and smiles when he's done. 

"H, it's got daisies" She's smiling wide. She caressed it softly to not bother her injury. 

Harry did get her different types of band-aids because a new design each time makes her smile. 

“Kiss it better then I’ll be healed.” 

The smile on her face has Harry leaning in close. His lips are soft as they touch her skin. She wants to run her fingers through his hair and bring him up to kiss her lips but she settles for just her knee. 

~

"It's baking time, bitch!" She screams as she walks in with her Rapunzel grocery tote. 

Harry knows they are going to bake two or three things from the size of the bag. She huffs a little, placing it on the counter. She begins to take out her items and sections them out. 

"Today, young one-"

"I'm older than you."

She glares at him for interrupting. "Today, smart-ass. We are making banana bread and peanut butter chocolate chip cookies." 

"Can you do it on your own, I'm busy." Harry jokes, expecting a sarcastic reply in return. 

He looks at her, and she's looking sadly at a bag of chocolate chips. He frowned if she did not get the joke. 

"Am I annoying you?" She questions. Harry hates how often she asks him that, but wounds take time to heal. 

"Nope, I'm just a jerk."

She looks at his eyes and stares. "You're not lying to make me feel better." 

"My sweet Peach, it would be an honor to bake with you and will allow you to pick all the movies we watch tonight because I am an idiot who takes a joke too far." 

"Okay, sorry. I'm on overdrive in my head and came here to relax, but got too into my head." 

Harry pulls her into a warm hug, and they stay like that for minutes. He pulls away and pushes her to the sink because they had work to do.

"Your peanut butter chocolate chip cookies are my drug. I watched you make them, but I feel you do something extra when I turn around." Harry says on the couch chewing on his fifth cookie. She's laying with her head in his lap, she's sure she got crumbs in her hair but is too tired to care. 

"I put all my love for you in those cookies." she murmurs close to dozing off.

Harry stares at with a soft look in his eyes. If she had looked up, she would have seen it was love in those green eyes of his. 

"I wish the love you put in the cookies is the love you'd give to me."

She's asleep in his lap. He knows she missed his declaration if he could even call it that. She lets out a small smile. She grabs his hand playing with her hair and pulls it to her chest. "I love you."

Harry freezes, unsure if she means it or what because it didn’t feel like the typical ‘I love you’ that she tells all her friends. Y/N's never talked in her dream before. 

"Peach," he whispers, "you awake." A minute goes by, and he gets no response 

This might be his chance, but it could also ruin everything if she didn't mean it. 

Oh boy.

~

It's been a week since that night on the couch, and Harry is dying inside. He never has the balls to ask.

 It's the first Friday of the month, which means dinner and wine or in her case tea. 

Peach came over and had already cooked dinner claiming she had lots of time on her hand today. It usually means she didn't want to deal with Harry in the kitchen. Then proceeded to order Harry to set the table because he was no help.

The meal as always was delicious. She made spicy lemon pasta with chicken although she told him it was supposed to be shrimp, she didn't think she'd like it. Harry showed her in praise as he does after every meal. Jokes, she needs to open her own restaurant, then she melts Harry's heart by saying, "I only cook for you, darling." 

Harry decided to have some wine, and she settled on tea because she didn't like to drink. Harry was giggly meaning he was a bit tipsy because he hadn't drunk in forever and was half a bottle down. She knew it wasn't fair but decided now would be a good time for some answers. 

"Do you think I'd be a good girlfriend?

"The best," he replies, instantly letting her know he's not lying. 

She blushes and gestures for him to go on. 

"You're kind. A good cook, understanding, incredibly smart, and you've got a cute nose." Harry wants to go on and on but thinks he'd blurt out his feelings if he did. 

"Would you ask me out? If you didn't know me."

"In a heartbeat," his answer shocks her.

Does Harry like her like she liked him? 

She decides to get bold. 

"Why haven't you taken me on a date?" She looks down at herself dressed in black sweats and a blue vintage Mickey Mouse shirt she stole from Harry. "Am I that bad looking?"

"Stop that," Harry murmurs, always hating when she comments on her looks. "I did ask you out, and I got friend-zoned. I didn't pursue more." 

She shakes her head. "Stop shitting me, H." She doesn't believe him. "The first time we went out together, we split the bill." 

"Think back, Peach. We always hung out in groups then I asked you to go out alone, I picked you up, opened your door and then we split the bill because you said friends met in the middle." 

She sits back, her lips mouthing a silent 'oh.'

"I friend-zoned you." She starts laughing. "That's gold." 

She catches her breath and stops to stare at Harry. He's wearing an old white t-shirt and can't help but look at his curls framing his face. It's slowly growing out, and she knows he's growing it out for her. She loves playing with his curls and tying it in a small ponytail that sticks up. "H, if you had told me that during lunch, I would have agreed, but you decided to keep those pretty lips shut." 

Harry smirks, "You think my lips are pretty." 

She sighs, giving up. She stands up. "I'll pick you up at six on Friday. I'm taking you on a date." 

Harry sits there shocked but not surprised at her boldness. 

"How do you even know I like you?" 

Her smirk falters, and her eyes dull. Harry feels like he was just punched in the gut. He put this look on her face. 

"You're right, that was insensitive of me." She's scanning the room, trying not to meet Harry's eyes. "I'm going to go." She rushes out the door in the next second. Harry is sitting there stunned before he jumps up after her. 

"Wait," he screams, hoping she'll stop. She's in a hurry to leave, throwing her bag in the passenger seat. She shuts the door, but to his benefit, the window is down. 

"I'm sorry." he's panting. "I'm an idiot, I know. I didn't mean that. I just like to tease you." He's looking at her, but she's looking straight ahead. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

She takes a deep breath. "That wasn't nice."

He sighs in relief. "I know, hun. I messed up. We were both being honest and vulnerable, and you surprised me by saying you were taking me out." 

"I'm reconsidering taking you out." 

She finally looks over at him, her eyes not shining as bright looking at him. "I’m still going to go." 

"I'll let you go if you say you'll still take me out." 

She looks like she wants to say no. "I'll hang here if I have to as you drive away." 

"Do you.." she pauses, not being able to meet his eyes. Her hand reaches out to play with his pretty witch ring on his middle finger. "like me." she mutters. 

"Hey, look at me." Harry guides her face to look at him, and he's never seen her so vulnerable. So open. What he feels like her heart is on display. "I'm crazy about you." 

She can't help the blush that colors her cheeks. 

"For so long, I've had these feelings, and I've gone on dates, but it's never worked out, and I've always known it was because they weren't you." 

She smiles timidly. "Okay, H. I'll still take you on a date."

He leans his forehead on hers. "I can't wait."

"I really want to kiss you, but I'm a gentleman. and I want to do this right by you." Harry runs his thumb gently over her bottom lip. She releases a small sigh, her breath warming his thumb. 

"Can't tonight count as a date?" She's looking from his eyes to his lips. 

Harry laughs loving the extra attention. 

"I like to be wined and dined, too, Peach." 

She sighs. "I sure know to pick them." 

A kiss to her forehead and he backs away. "Drive safe, Peach."

She drives off a smile on both their faces.

~

"Okay, I know I was the one who was supposed to pick you up, but I really need you to come for me." 

She's sitting next to the steps that lead to her door cradling her wrist to her chest, cursing the last wobbly step she has yet to fix. 

Maybe Harry will help her fix it sometime soon. 

"I'm not going to ask why I'll be there in five," Harry replies.

"I live 15 minutes away!" she screams, "You better be driving safely, or I'll punch you." 

"Sorry Peach, I meant to say see you in ten." 

She hangs up and shoves her phone in her bag and ponders if she should get up or not. 

She pulls her hand away from her chest a little and sees that it looks okay, thankfully she didn't put rings on today; otherwise, they might have been stuck on her fingers. She looks at her nails and smiles because her lilac nails didn't chip. She did them last night because Harry loves this color. 

Harry arrives and gets out in a hurry that he almost trips over her. 

"Watch it, H." She mumbles, playing with a rolly polly that she found next to her bag. "You almost killed Eric."

Harry stares down at her, not sure what's going on, but gives her time. 

"Our date is for you to drive me to urgent care because I've had an accident." She smiles up at him like it's the most normal thing in the world. 

"Can't say I've ever had someone take me there," he answers, his gaze locked on her swollen wrist.

"I know you will remember me forever and ever for this. Now help me up, my butt is officially numb."

He walks her to his car and goes as far as putting her seatbelt on for her. 

"Want to tell me how it happened?" 

"I was walking down the steps, and my shoe got stuck in the bottom step I have yet to fix. Instead of landing on my face, I put my hands out, and now my left wrist is hurting," she pouts, looking at harry. "I was supposed to fix it this Sunday. I got the supplies in the doorway, ready to go.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, concerned because it is swelling up and the bruising only makes it look worse.

"Nope, I got a high pain tolerance," she winks.

"I'll keep that in mind." He jokes, but gosh, that sure got him tight in his pants.

"I know it's not broken because it doesn't look weird but also not a fracture because it would hurt if I touched my fingers, but they move fine. I just want to know what kind of sprain it is. How long I need to keep it rested and all that fun stuff."

Harry looks at her, not at all surprised she knows so much about the injury. 

"I wasn't always accident-prone. I did sports, and high school division one was tough. I went through lots of icing and taping. The trainer and I were on first name bases. I ended up helping her a lot. She made me take this short course where I learned the basics." 

Harry smiles because although this date is unconventional, he sure is learning more about his Peach. 

They are surprised to see the urgent care waiting room pretty empty. She gives her name, and she's handed a clipboard. Harry is quick to take it out of her hand and begins to fill it out. 

"I should be scared that you know my social security but I'm not." 

"Remember, two summers ago, you wanted to go to Lake Tahoe for a week, and we rented that cabin, and we decided to get drunk together because you didn't drink and only wanted to know how it felt. You only felt safe enough to do it with only me. Well, I decided not to get drunk that night so that I take care of you. You swore you were going to die and proceeded to sing your social security to me in a song until I could recite it back to you." 

She nods as if trying to think back to that day. 

"That day is nonexistent to me." she laughs. "Alcohol sucks. Don't need that in me ever."

"I drink it for the both of us to remember." 

"Yeah, cause your tolerance is high; it must be the British in you," she says, bumping his shoulder softly.

She peeks over to look at the question he's on, and it's asking when her last period was. She's about to answer when she sees he wrote in the correct days. She doesn't comment on it. 

"Do you believe in soulmates?." 

Harry turns to look at her with his bright green eyes. “Yeah, it’s a nice thought. Have someone who completes you and understands you like no one else.”

“I know it’s our first date, but we’ve been friends for over three years and since the moment we met I was hit with this ease and safety when I’m around you. I think you might be my soulmate.” 

"Oh yeah, what does being your soulmate entail?" He’s grinning because he knows she’s right.

"Lots of cookies and cinnamon rolls. Hmmm...cuddles laughs and lots of kisses. Like lots of them." 

Harry’s smile goes into full bloom because they haven't even shared the first kiss, and she knows she wants this with him. 

"I can live with that." 

"That’s cool, I wasn't asking." 

Two hours later, they walk out with a small bag from the pharmacy and her wrist wrapped in a bandage.

"Next part of our date is," she pauses and gestures to Harry to do the drum roll "Ice cream!" she shouts, and Harry cheers with her. 

"But there's a twist." she turns in her seat to look at him. "You have to guess the ice cream flavor I'm thinking of, or this date ends now." 

"We're going to Scoops," He sees her nod and continues on, "That is where you like to get a new flavor each time, but I know after an injury, you crave caramel."

"Final answer then, H."

"Gold Medal Ribbon"

She leans back in her seat. "That is correct," she says proudly. "Let's get some pizza too because I need food to take these pills."

"Pizza, ice cream. Then my place or yours." 

She thinks about it real hard. As much as she loves Harry's bed, she needs her favorite blanket tonight. "Let's go back to mine." 

Harry takes off in the direction of their favorite ice cream shop, Scoops, that is conveniently next to the place where they order their pizza. 

They are lying in her bed together, moving there after watching US per Harry's choice. Harry helped her with her night routine and even tried to brush her teeth, but she reminded him she was ambidextrous. A fancy way of telling Harry she was talented with both hands. That caused Harry to go red and leave her standing in her bathroom alone.

 She's getting sleepy, and she blames it on the painkillers. She doesn't want to sleep because then it would mark the end of their date. Although it was not a traditional dinner, she had a great time because it was Harry. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't wine and dine you properly." She's close to tears because no guy wants to go on a date to a hospital then go home to eat pizza. "It's probably been the worst date you've ever been on, and worst I didn't get to walk you to the door and kiss you." 

"Peach," he starts, and she looks at him with glossed eyes. "This was the best first date. It will always be the most memorable because it was with you."

She smiles slightly.

"Want to know a secret" he grins at her nodding her head shyly. "You're my last first date."

She blushes at his words because she knows the meaning behind it. He means she's the one he's going to be with forever.

"Then will you seal the deal, Mr. Romantic, and kiss me."

He pets her hair gently. "I want it to be perfect."

"Every moment with you is perfect."

Harry's heart skips a beat at her words. He's never said no to her before, and he isn't going to start now.

All their first date kisses have led them to this moment, the final one. All the heartbreak they went through was done so that when the right person came around, they would know how to cherish and protect that love. 

She feels her heart beating so fast she wasn't able to catch a proper breath. His head that just seconds ago was declaring his emotions to her was no buzzing with anticipation. She felt his breaths on her cheeks. He watched her eyelids flutter, then close. Then their lips met. 

Romance novels do no justice to how it feels to kiss the person you were waiting on forever to kiss. It's not fireworks and sparks.

It's better, it's much better. 

It feels as if your soul is at peace. A gentleness flows through them at the love that is being exchanged. It's the feeling of coming home, a sense of wanting, and acceptance. It was something explainable, and they can't wait to experience more of that. 

Harry pulls away far enough to look at her shut eyes and smile that's gracing her face. She opens them, and he's met with them shining as bright as the stars outside. 

"Perfect," she whispers, her right hand coming up to gently stroke the dimples on his face. 

Harry turns his head gently and places a kiss on her palm. She sighs in contentment. He settles on his side and brings her hand down to rest on her stomach as he intertwines their hands together. Her left arm elevated on a stack of blankets and pillows as to allow it to heal; her back pressed to his. They fit perfectly. 

There under the light of the moon, they fell asleep with their hearts full. 

It’s the start of a relationship, one with struggles, laughs, and many firsts together but most importantly filled with an ever growing love for one another. 

~

December 2020

"Do you think she'll hug you first or me?"

"I'm her son, Peach," he states as if her question was absurd.

"I bet you 50," she says. 

"Dollars, quid, kisses, or what" he replies with a smirk on his face.

"Spanks," she replies earnestly.

"Kinky" 

 "Start walking, I see your luggage that has all the presents." 

Harry arrives and parks the car, and she all dives out of the car. She rushes to the front door and puts Harry's key in to unlock the door. She knows it's as much her home as it is his. 

"Anne," she shouts, not seeing anyone in the living room. She takes her shoes off but leaves her coat on. 

Anne walks out of the kitchen, she rushes to give her a hug brushing off Harry standing right next to her. She smirks at Harry, and he just rolls his eyes, but honestly, he might just burst from happiness at how much his mom loves his Peach.

"Can you believe our dear Harold brought his girlfriend here to meet you, and he didn't even let you know." She begins her tale trying her best to hold in her smile 

Harry closes the door and is not at all surprised to see his mom pull her closer in a hug, thinking she was serious. 

Well, she was. 

"Hi mum, I would love a hug. Your youngest and only son is home." 

"Is she serious? Where is the girlfriend?" she questions him right away. "Do you have her waiting outside?"

 "You're holding her." He replies honestly to his mum.

Anne pulls back to look at the girl in her arms, and Harry can't help but laugh at his mother's face. She has a million-dollar smile on her face and nods to reassure Anne that it's true. Anne lets out a little scream before bringing her in for a tighter hug. Harry approaches, and Anne pulls him in to join the group hug. It's a lovely welcome home. 

"It's not even Christmas, and this is the best gift I could have received." 

Anne smiles and comes close to crying when seeing them reach for each other, like two magnets being pulled together. Hands intertwined and smiles wide. She sees their love loud and clear. 

"Oh, does your sister know." Anne suddenly worried if she was the last to know.

"Nope, Harry wanted to let you know together." 

"Well, she shouldn't belong. How long have you been together?" 

Harry grins, "Is it crazy to say it feels like forever." Y/N grins up at him and gives him a quick peck on his cheek. "Got together in March. When the klutz got her wrist sprained." Y/N elbowed him fast and hard enough to leave him gasping for air.

There's a knock on the door, and they know it's Gemma's boyfriend because she would have walked right in. 

"Darlin', go into the kitchen. We'll tell Gemma Harry wants to introduce her to his girlfriend, and that'll be your cue." 

Anne's so excited that they do as they say. 

It's safe to say that day was full of hugs, smiles, and laughs. 

It's cold out, but Y/N doesn't seem to mind. She's got a blanket around her as she sits on the back steps of the house. She looks out and knows she'd be happy here forever. 

"Peach, you're going to freeze out here."

"Not if you come sit by me" She smiles knowing he's not going to say no to her. Harry shuffles over to her quickly unwrapping the blanket to wrap them both in the warmth it’s providing.

"I meant it when I said I'd move across the pond with you."

Harry pulls her close and practically has her sitting in his lap. He rests his head on top of hers.

"I know you did." He stops to press a gentle kiss to her hair. "You've got family there and your job. I got mine too." He sighs as if he's trying to convince himself why they shouldn't

"Not to brag or whatever, but I work at one of the best companies. Top two in the nation, I'm sure they'd allow me a transfer or give me an excellent reference because not to brag again, but I'm amazing at my job. 

Harry acts like he's going to drop her causing her to scream, and she wraps her arms around his neck tightly. 

"You also want to expand your company. Who better to run the branch in London than the man himself." 

Harry groans. "You make it sound so easy."

"That's because it is, with you, it always has been." 

She nuzzles her nose into his neck, causing him to smile because it's cold, but he doesn't let her know because he likes having her this close. 

"You'd move across the ocean with me," he repeats as if still not believing it. "What's the catch?" 

"A promise of forever with you," she whispers, kissing his neck softly.

"With you forever seems too short." 

Harry lets her lean in to peck his lips. 

"I'll support you no matter what, I'm all in with you, and I'll always support all your dreams."

She lifts her arm to rest on his cheek, and she strokes him gently. He hums in content, knowing there is no better place in this world than in her arms. 

"I may be your lover now, but I will always be your friend." 

It’s true Harry thinks as much as their relationship has changed she always has his best interest in mind and vice versa. 

Best friends and lovers.

She leans in and brushes her lips to his. She laughs a little because hers have gone a little dry with the cold, but Harry's stay soft and welcoming. He closes the gap wanting to feel the heat her kisses bring him. Their lips move in sync, a dance only they know. It's soft, and slow just like this moment. Harry pours all his love into this kiss and feels her do the same. They pull apart close enough to still feel each other's breath. Small kisses, always being shared. 

There, in Harry's mother's backyard on a cold December night, Harry and Y/N promise forever and more to each other.

Thank you for reading Always Be Your Friend! I love this story that shows a story of two friends who loved each other but were never brave enough to say it until they finally did. A pinch of angst and a load of fluff later I’m still in love with loud  Y/N and workaholic Harry. Thank you to @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h @andwhenshesays​ for creating Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge because it was a true joy to take time and write this story (even if there where times I did not like parts of my story.) 

Here’s the pypfc masterlist to check out everyone else’s stories!

please please please let me know what you though of it here.  I love hearing your thoughts it means so much to me. Love you all - Angie

[legolaslovely]

It Can Wait

A/N: Hi friends! This started as something to help me get rid of my little Fíli block (which SUCKS because I LOVE him with all my heart????), and I ended up really liking it! I hope you guys do too! :)

Pairing: Fíli x Fem ! Human ! Reader

Word Count: 2,847

Warnings: Fluff, talk of violence and injury, talk of blood, major character with a minor injury, nakedness (?), but like, respectful nakedness

Summary: Fíli runs to (Y/N)’s rescue at a rather inopportune time. ;)

“Lay down your packs. We’ll rest here for the night.”

Before Thorin even finished his sentence, the company of dwarves and their hobbit dropped their packs as if they were full of builders’ bricks. The resounding thump of bedrolls and clinking of weapons falling to the ground would have been enough to wake the nearest orc pack if it hadn’t already attacked the travelers earlier that day. Luckily the enemies were somewhat defeated and mostly evaded by the comrades. The skirmish did come with its casualties, but besides a few ripped packs with one gone and lost to the wargs, the injuries were survivable and would heal in a few days, according to Oin’s gruff but medically sound opinion.

(Y/N) walked to the far side of the rising camp and joined Thorin and his nephews instead of piling herself near the dwarves of the company who couldn’t bear to take another step. It seemed they’d rather plop where they stood, even if that meant sleeping on top of each other. 

“Move over there, Bofur,” Bombur said. “Give a dwarf his own space, will ye?”

“Ye have plenty of space, what with ye losin’ yer pack to the warg’s mouth,” Bofur answered.

“Which wouldn’t have happened if ye didn’t run so slow!”

“Oi!”

And thus the bickering began.

(Y/N) dropped her pack on the ground where she could have some space to herself. Once freed, her aching arms stretched up over her head and her creaking back bent from side to side like a reed in the wind. She inhaled deeply, hoping to refresh her senses with some clean forest air but what she got was nothing of the sort. 

That smell!

She coughed, she waved, but nothing completely dispelled the thick stink. One more sniff to make sure… and yes, that stench was her. Well, not exactly her. It was the black orc blood covering her tunic, the dirt under her nails, the sweat sliding down her skin and whatever the company shared for supper the night before. Nevertheless, that smell was indeed coming from her.

“I need to bathe,” she muttered.

“There’s a shallow river to the east. Not far,” Thorin said from behind her. She hadn’t realized he’d been setting up his bedroll so close to her as she complained about her… filth. “Go now,” he said. “Before it gets much darker.”

She nodded, going through her pack for some of her belongings. If she went now, she could wash her soiled and smelly tunic, fill her canteen, even wash her hair and still be back in time to share supper before it disappeared.

“Where are you going?” Kíli asked as (Y/N) loaded a smaller bag of hers with her washing utensils. 

“To the river. I won’t be long.”

“You’re going alone?” Fíli asked, standing from his half made bedroll and wincing from the effort. Even he hadn’t been spared by the orcs today, having taken quite a blow to his knee. (Y/N) was convinced his limp was the reason Thorin called for camp before dark.

“I’m going to bathe so yes, I’m going alone,” she said. 

Her fond teasing always left the tips of his ears stinging red.

“Do you think that’s the best idea?” he asked.

“I won’t be far. And I always have a dagger on me,” she said with a wink as she slung her bag over her shoulder and made for the river. 

Kíli leaned to his brother’s ear, eyeing the weapon that hung from (Y/N)’s hip. It caressed her leg like a friendly cat with every step she took into the woods. “Always, always?” he asked. “Where does she keep it?”

“Use your imagination, Kíli!” she called over her shoulder. 

Fíli saw the wheels chugging to life and wildly churning in his brother’s mind and smacked him.

“Oi!” Kíli barked.

Fíli listened to (Y/N)’s distant laugh and shoved his brother’s shoulder once more before returning to his bedroll. He flattened it out over a patch of long wildgrass which made for the softest sleeping place he’d had in weeks. 

Moving himself to sit was a challenge with his throbbing knee, but it was one that came with a just reward. He kicked his leg out in front of him and leaned back on his hands, not in a rush to dig the crumbs of dry food out of his pack for his supper. No, he’d sit for a moment and let his mind go blank for the first time since the night before. 

“Ye expect me to sleep on that little sliver of roll?”

“Yer lucky I’m sharin’ me roll with ye at all! Yer the one that lost yer pack!”

“ ‘Cause I was watchin’ out for ye!”

“Oi!”

Fíli cracked one eye open and rolled it at the spectacle. As the rest of the company spread out from their lazy pile, the grassy area dwindled, leaving mud moats and pebble piles as the only free space on the edge of the camp. Fíli had marked his territory, as had his brother and uncle. (Y/N), however, ran to the river so quickly she’d barely dropped her pack from her back, never mind set out her blanket. 

“Kee,” he whispered. “See that little sliver of grass there?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Unroll (Y/N)’s bed for her, will ya? Right there. She’ll be left in the rocks otherwise.”

Kíli lolled his head and looked behind him, hair brushing the ground with his movement as he leaned back on his elbows. “S’too far away, Fee.”

“It’s right there!”

“You get it, then!”

Fíli had a trademark glare he saved for his little brother. Wide eyes threatened while thick brows sat like soldiers braced for battle; thinly lined lips could snap a command at any moment though his jaw seemed still and hard as stone. The glower wasn’t often unsheathed but even after seventy-odd years together, it was a weapon that still made Kíli tremble. Even now, he glanced again to the pack in question in order to avoid his brother’s steel gaze.

“What?” Kíli squeaked. “She can do it herself!” 

“She’s not here.” 

Fíli pushed himself to stand. The pain shot through his leg like an fiery arrow through his veins, exploding its target in the middle of his knee and sending shrapnel throughout. He winced, face scrunched up tight, as he limped to unclip (Y/N)’s bedroll from the top of her pack.

“You don’t have to baby her,” Kíli said.

“I’m not,” Fíli said as he rolled the thick blanket over the grass near his own. “I would rather not listen to her complain of her sore back all because you didn’t save her a place.”

“I wouldn't have to if she didn’t take so long washing her pretty hair.”

Fíli patted his handiwork and leaned close to Kíli to say, “Good thing you didn’t get up off your rear, then.” He dodged Kíli’s flying hand and chuckled at his little brother’s faked outrage. Then he stood, adjusted his belt and looked to the sky to judge the time. The sun was low, shining in the trees ahead and painting the leaves golden, the same way it shone at the crown of (Y/N)’s head as if she were a royal. 

“She does have pretty hair,” Fíli said.

Before Kíli could shoot back an answer, his attention was pulled to a sharp cry echoing in the near distance. He caught Fíli’s eye and saw panic there. 

“What was that?” he asked.

Fíli unsheathed his dagger and listened. Nothing. 

“Stay here.”

Fíli disappeared into the eastern woods and made for the river. His injury was forgotten as he rushed through the trees, on guard for any lagging assailants waiting for him to approach. With each twig crunching step, he willed himself to slow down, make a plan, take in his surroundings, so as not to sprint full force into an enemy attack on his own. But the thought of (Y/N) in danger spurred him on. He rushed forth- forgot his training, his pain, his fear. His heart pounded in his chest as if attempting to break free from its cage and act as lieutenant.

His steps were mechanical, automatic. Green and brown whirred around him until he reached a clearing and saw blue. Then a shining dagger glinted in front of his chest. 

“(Y/N)! Wait!” he said, arms shot in front of him.

“Fíli! What’s wrong?” 

The land all around was empty except for the two of them. No enemy stood in sight and there was no evidence of a fight before he’d arrived. No blood, no weapons, and the only footsteps in the dirt were (Y/N)’s own. Her bare feet, tiny compared to his thick boots, led to bare calves, bare knees and mostly bare thighs, only the tops of which were covered with a clinging, wet tunic. Back to her feet his eyes went and he backed away, sheathing his dagger and looking anywhere except the soaked woman before him.

“Mahal, I’m so sorry. I thought I heard a scream and you were out here alone- my mind went to the worst. I really didn’t- this is no ploy to- I swear.”

“I believe you, Fíli.” She picked her dagger’s sheath from the ground and replaced her weapon. For a moment, he watched the soaked tunic adhere to her chest. Her hair shone with soap that slid down her neck, the bubbles making their way down over the dips of her collarbones and adding to the translucency of her covering. 

She straightened. “I heard it too, but it was a fox. The pack made a kill just over the bank and celebrated so loudly I thought they were actually dwarves.” The corners of her mouth wriggled as she tried not to smile. 

“You’re funny.”

“Thank you.” 

She watched him. For his reaction? To pressure him into keeping his gaze to himself? To thank him for risking his life for her safety? He wasn’t sure.

“I’m also shivering and covered in soap, so if you don’t mind-”

“I’ll leave.” He turned back to the way he came, leaning a bit too far onto his sore leg. Despite his best intentions, he hissed in pain but the spare air vanished when a damp hand landed on his arm.

“What did Oin say about your knee?” she asked.

His hand clamped onto hers. “I’ll be crooked for a few days, but it should heal just fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to run through the woods on either.”

A breeze blew between them. She shook with a chill that ran down her spine and took her hand away from his.

“You are shivering,” he said. “I’ll leave you as you asked.”

“Actually, I just meant to ask if you’d turn around so I can rinse off. Then we can walk back together. Wouldn’t want any foxes to attack you in your weakened state,” she said, biting her lip to stop from laughing as he shook his head.

He watched her back into the water, expertly dodging slippery, sharp rocks, until the little ripples reached her knees. She never took her eyes off his, but cocked a brow as she fiddled with the hem of her wet tunic. 

“You should probably turn around now.”

“Right.” 

He dutifully and respectfully spun, holding his breath to listen to her laugh. Her tunic landed on the rocks near his feet with a wet slap while the river water splashed and encased her in its embrace. If he closed his eyes, he’d be able to see her leaning her head back into the waves, revealing her neck and the swell of her breasts until her flesh disappeared below the surface. If he closed his eyes, he had the chance to imagine things he shouldn’t be picturing about his comrade. 

So he looked up into the trees to count the birds or the leaves or the branches- something that would take his attention away from the completely bare woman right behind him. Then he saw her extra tunic hanging dry, still stained dark grey and maroon from their skirmish with a small orc pack that afternoon.

“That’s your only spare tunic up there?” he asked.

She hummed. “I can’t seem to wash the orc stench out of it, but it seems I’ll have to wear it for the night as my other one won’t dry in time.”

“I have an extra you can wear.”

“Oh, no, I’ll make do.”

“Nonsense,” he said, retrieving the wet tunic-ball and hanging it over a branch. As he sniffed the stained one and winced, he said, “Rip this one up for rags. You’ll need some for cleaning and mending as we go on. This wet one will dry, but until we can get you another spare, you can take mine.” 

He dropped the rags-to-be by her bag and slid out of his outer layer. As he shed his clothes, he started to regret his decision. But asking her to choose between freezing overnight and sleeping in orc funk wasn’t an option. His fingers shook as the rustling of the water grew higher in pitch and her steps turned from small splashes to light pats over the dirt. 

“That’s generous of you. Thank you.”

He pulled his tunic over his head and held it out, only seeing her by his side when he ran a hand through his braids and set them to rights. She’d slipped into her trousers and though she’d squeezed the water from her hair, stubborn droplets ran down her smooth skin and over freckles that were newly formed from long hours in the sun. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, turning away as she dressed. 

It wasn’t long before she landed before him, long tails tucked in and bunched in her trousers and laces tied under her neck. 

“Well, then,” she said. “Ready to fight off some foxes?”

Fíli chuckled as the sleeve she’d pushed up to her elbow fell back down and over her wrist. “Indeed. Maybe we’ll find something for supper on the way,” he said as he neatly rolled the extra fabric up her arm the way he knew she liked it. 

“Anything would be better than whatever your brother caught for us last night.”

“Not a fan of mystery meat?”

“Not when it smells like that,” she said.

When the pair grabbed everything they’d brought with them to the river, they started their way back to the camp. The sun had set but there was still a residual light radiating from the sky and through the trees. The purple twilight illuminated the path which Fíli had made much more prominent with his previous run through the woods. Mighty bear jokes were passed back and forth as (Y/N) noticed the broken branches and large bootsteps left in the dirt. 

Fíli wrapped an arm tight around her shoulders and pulled, making her topple into his chest and giggle even more.

“Knock it off,” he said, words warped by his wide grin.

“Fine, fine. But seriously, Fíli. I’m honestly quite offended by what you’ve done tonight.”

He stopped her in the path, eyes wide and deep with regret. “(Y/N), I promise, I was not at all trying to sneak some sort of peek. I really thought you were in danger-”

“No, not that. All this time I always thought I had a rather pleasant voice. Now you say I sound like a yowling fox. It hurts me a bit.” She headed back to camp without him, leaving him stunned into place in the middle of the woods. “More than a bit, actually,” she continued. “I think you’re going to have to think very hard on how to make this all up to me. If we want to stay friends, that is.”

Two giant, limping steps later, he was close enough to take her in his arms and kiss her, as he’d wanted to do for months. And unexpectedly, magically, thankfully, she returned his embrace. Her fingers were cold on the nape of his neck but his tunic was warm around her body. Up her back and into her hair went his thick fingers, opening her to him and pulling her lips even closer. He sighed, a mix of her scent and his, her hair oil and his soap, and every bit of him swelled to capacity with pride and affection. Finally.

He drew away just enough to take in her face. Her eyes were still closed, and slowly, a smile grew on her pinked lips. She hummed and looked at him.

“That’s a good start,” she said.

“I’m glad you think so.”

Her smile spread into a bright and beautiful grin and Fíli could only return it. He shifted against her and felt her arms wrap further around him in support.

“We should get you back for some rest. Your knee-”

“Can wait,” he said, taking her chin in his fingers and running his thumb just under her lips. “It can wait.”

He kissed her again, pain and worries gone.

***

Taglist: @emrfangirl​ @misslongcep​ @raindancer2004​ @ladybugg1235​ @xxbyimm​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @fire-flv​ @nerdbirdsworld​ @dashesofink​ @teagarages​ @dreams-of-wander​ @winchesterandpie​ @bluebellcotton @tumblinglringlring @fxngsfogxarty @specialagentsnark @afeistyfairy12 @queenofmankind @karlthecat15722 @sagabriar @marymegger @aidan-kili-mitchell-forever @c-s-stars

[flowercrown-bucky]

The Secrets We Hide

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Loki has a secret. A big secret. When Thor needs his help finding Odin, his secret may be exposed.

Authors’ Note: My very favourite reader of my Loki series, Lavender Blue, asked for some more Thor, and whilst thinking about it I got a little carried away

Also Y/N has a last name in this that might make sense if you get to the end oop

If you’re waiting for the next part of Lavender Blue I fucking SUCK at writing smut someone help me-

"Where are we going, brother?" Thor looked curiously at Loki.

He'd been to Britain a handful of times in his life.

The very first had been sometime during what would later become colloquially know as the dark ages, in the early sixth century, he was inclined to believe. Earth, he had found, was wholly unremarkable, if England was anything to go by.

It was on this occasion that he had learned of his brother's magical talents, travelling on horseback through the countryside. He'd stumbled onto a (Remarkably small, he noticed) kingdom, ruled over by a gentleman by the name of Arthur. The real shock, however, had come to him upon entering the banquet hall in his host's castle, only to find his younger brother - who was, needless to say, not pleased to see him - sat next to his host. The lengths he'd gone to disguise himself were commendable, and the beard he'd magicked up was impressive, but there was no mistaking the mischievous twinkle in the eyes of Loki of Asgard.

However, the England Thor found himself in now was a far cry from the country of his memory. Winchester, he had been informed, was where the bifrost had brought them, but the cobbled streets he was walking on were about as unfamiliar to him as unicorn land.

Loki, however, definitely knew where he was. He had clearly been here many times before.

He'd replied to his brother's questioning with a disparaging look, continuing to walk on. All Thor knew about where they were going is that it had something to do with where Loki had placed their father three years ago. As for his personal theories? His mind was drawing a blank.

Eventually, Loki came to a stop in front of a single house within a terrace. A tall, unremarkable house, by all means, built with honey-coloured sandstone, the paint on the windows flaking with age, several panes baring the circular marks of a pontil. Three tall steps led to the front door, and the view of the living room through large window next to it allowing some insight as to the nature of its inhabitant.

Through the hazy glass, Thor could see a remarkably cluttered, disorganised room. A large leather armchair sat in the corner of the room, worn from use and decorated by a patchwork quilt. A similar rug lay on the wooden floor, a tapestry of fabric scraps. Opposite the TV was a grey cord sofa, upon which a number of odd and brightly coloured socks were strewn.

It was fairly safe to assume, Thor reckoned, that the inhabitant of this house - who was currently upstairs, based on the light coming through the window - was not his father.

So what the hell were they doing here?

Loki's three short raps of the knocker elicited a response from the house's inhabitant. They could hear them scurrying down the stairs and towards the door, and fumbling with the lock before opening it.

The woman on the other side was not what he was expecting.

The arrival of your visitors had come as somewhat of a shock to you, that much was apparent from your face. The second thing Thor noticed, was that you clearly knew Loki.

Your hair, slightly damp from the shower, was pulled up on top of your head, secured by a scrunchie, the deep green shade of which complimented your eyes. You were dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a red woollen jumper, your feet bare save for a silver ring around the second toe on your left foot and chipped nail polish on your toenails.

The third thing Thor noticed about you, was that you were very pretty.

"Father?" His voice came out as a squeak.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his brother laughing.

"Your father I most certainly am not." Your right eyebrow quirked bemusedly, crossing your arms. "But this is a surprise."

"Sorry, I must've forgotten to mention it." Loki grinned at you. "Can we come in?"

You stepped aside, beckoning the brothers through the door and into your home. You shot Loki a pointed look as he entered, prompting him to roll his eyes and, begrudgingly, remove his shoes and place them neatly by the door. In the interest of remaining polite, Thor followed suit.

"I take it this is not a social visit?" You asked, leading them into your kitchen.

The kitchen, Thor noticed, was nice. Homely. Small, but still, homely. The stone floor was cool under his socked feet, although his left being slightly warmer than the right led him to suspect your floor was central-heated, and the aga opposite him would probably heat the entire house. The beams supporting the ceiling were low enough that he'd hit his head twice, although he had noticed Loki had ducked, his posture automatically slouched so as to avoid collision.

Loki had clearly spent a lot of time in this house, in this kitchen.

You hopped up onto the counter, crossing your legs at the knee.

"Perceptive as ever, I see." Loki chuckled. "Although, my manners seem to have momentarily lost me. Y/N, this is my brother, Thor. Thor, this is Y/N Hudson. She's.... She's a friend of mine."

Thor did not miss the curious glance you shot at his brother.

"As delighted as I am to see you, Loki," You rolled your eyes. "What do you want?"

"It would seem that my dear brother has managed to lose our father." Thor glared at the dark haired man.

"I would dearly love to know how exactly one goes about losing one's father." Your lips quirked into an amused smile.

"And you're the only living being on this dull little planet who's capable of finding him." Loki ignored your attempt at riling him, catching your gaze.

"I don't understand." Thor furrowed his brow. "What are you, a witch? Do you have some sort of tracking abilities?"

"No, she's just very intelligent." Loki corrected. "Would you give Y/N and I a moment alone, brother mine?"

Thor nodded gruffly, watching you hop off the counter and walk out of the kitchen, into the room he'd first seen through the window.

He did not miss how his brother bit his lip as he looked you up and down.

Your front room was Loki's favourite place on Midgard.

It might even be his favourite place in the nine realms.

It had quickly become his bolt-hole, his safe place. It was the first place he'd ever been shown true kindness, where you'd brought him after you found him in a back alley, dying and alone. It was where you'd laid him on the sofa, where he'd been tucked under a blanket for the first time, where he'd drunk his first ever cup of midgardian tea. It was where you'd allowed him, a complete stranger, to rest and heal.

It was where he'd returned to pester this annoying, intriguing little human being, a process within which he discovered you were possibly less annoying and entirely more intriguing than he'd initially assumed.

He trailed his fingers across the back of your sofa absent mindedly, staring at the rings on your coffee table. You had a habit of leaving half-drunk, cold cups of coffee on this table - hence, the rings - something that irked him to no end.

The long hairs on the cushion caught his eye, and he wondered where the furry little beast might be hiding. Your cat, Kenneth, did not like Loki, a sentiment he wholeheartedly reciprocated. If you weren't so fond of it, he would more than happily fling the little monster into some unreachable pocket of a distant dimension.

His eyes reached where you'd perched on the arm of your armchair, one leg stretched out in front of you. He allowed his gaze to lazily climb the length of your body, taking all of you in.

Gods, did he love your legs.

"I've missed you, darling." He grinned up at you.

"I've not seen you for two weeks, Loki." Your voice was slow, deliberate. "And you come to me now, because you need me?"

He bit his lip, you had him there. He never was quite sure how to gauge your emotions, never sure how you’d react. Everything you did was carefully considered.

Even after all this time with you, you were still something of an enigma to him. It was one of the things that had initially drawn him to you, one of the things that he loved about you.

"On the contrary, my sweet." His voice had dropped, so much so that he was almost purring. "I always need you."

"Don't you try to charm me, silvertongue." You raised one finger in front of you, pointing it at him; a warning.

"Is it working?" He raised one eyebrow at you as he spoke.

"I'll let you know." You grumbled.

A soft chuckle left his lips, crossing the distance between you in two strides, dropping to his knees before your outstretched legs. He glanced up at you inquisitively, a massive grin stretching across his face at your nod of confirmation.

Gently, he lifted his hands up so his fingertips pressed at your stomach, at the little gap of skin between the bottom of your jumper and the waistband of your jeans. His fingers slid gently under your jumper, taking the woolen garment with it until his palms were flat against your stomach.

"Hey, little one." He cooed. "I can't believe how tiny you are. I can barely see you."

You laughed quietly, bringing your hand down to rest on top of his much larger one. He kissed the soft skin of your slightly swollen belly, and the intimacy of the small gesture made your heart swell with love and affection for both him and the child growing inside you.

"I wonder if they'll be blue." You mused, running your fingers through the ends of his hair.

"Why, in the name of all things unholy," He looked up from his ministrations. "Would it be blue?"

"Because, you're, well, you know..." You waved your hands expressively. "Nevermind. I had a scan a few days ago, do you want to see?"

You fished in your back pocket, pulling out a small folded piece of paper.

Desperation was not something Thor was used to.

However, in that moment, it was exactly what he as feeling.

He'd crossed his legs, he'd shifted his weight from leg to leg uncomfortably. But however hard he tried, he just could not shift the feeling. He needed to go to the toilet, and he needed to go to the toilet badly.

As the age-old saying went, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

He'd uncomfortably wandered towards where he'd seen you and his brother wander off to.

What he was not expecting to see, was Loki knelt between your legs.

His hands flew up to his face, shielding his view. He'd seen this before, and it scarred him for life.

What even had he seen? 

His brother, kneeling between the legs of a mortal woman. Your jeans, he noted, were entirely done up.

Loki was kissing your stomach, caressing it, a dark piece of paper clutched in his other hand.

"Your daddy loves you so, so much," His brother had whispered to your stomach. "But don't give your mummy too much grief, ok?"

Words escaped Thor.

This woman Loki had brought him to, was pregnant. With Loki's child.

He cleared his throat, startling both you and his brother. Loki scrambled to his feet, anxious about being caught in such an intimate moment with you.

"I needed the toilet." Thor's voice came out in a much higher pitch than his intention.

"On your left."  Loki's voice was barely a croak, his voice hoarse.

"I'm okay," His voice came out in a more nervous way than he was expecting. "Congratulations are in order, I think?"

"Yes." Loki's voice was gruff, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Thank you, brother."

"Thank you, Thor." You smiled warmly at the god.

"Anyway," Loki was evidently in a hurry to change the subject. "Do you know where the Allfather is?"

"He's in Norway. That's all I know. He's hidden himself well." You rubbed your chin thoughtfully. "But I do know a man who might be able to tell you more."

Loki's lips curled into a satisfied grin.

Thor's state of confusion remained long after they left your house. He was, as the mortals would say, totally gobsmacked.

Unable to provide the location of Odin, you'd handed Loki a neatly folded piece of paper. As far as Thor knew, his brother had not yet opened it.

Loki had kissed you passionately before he left, an uncharacteristic display of affection and one that made Thor deeply uncomfortable. He'd cleared his throat in a pitiful attempt to stifle a laugh, met only by his brother's middle finger in his face.

Rude.

He glanced at his brother as they walked. He'd not said a word since they’d left, but his hair was mussed from your fingers and his cheeks flushed from your embrace.

“I’m shocked.” He mused. “A woman - an attractive woman - likes you.”

“Harsh.” Loki frowned. “And she didn’t, at first. Like me, that is.”

“Smart woman.” He chuckled, eliciting a punch from the taller of the two.

In his many, many years of existence, he would never have guessed that Loki would be the first of the two of them to become a dad. He never would’ve even imagined his brother as a father in his wildest dreams.

In all honesty, he had never imagined a woman taking Loki as her lover.

He shuddered at the mental image. Yeugh.

“Congratulations, I guess.” A sudden fondness overwhelmed him. “Dad.”

“They are everything to me.” Loki’s voice was clear, concise in a way he had never before heard from his mischievous brother - he was, after all, the God of Lies. “I would gladly give my life to save theirs. I’d give yours, for that matter.”

“Your sentiment is touching.” He grunted. “Anyway, where are we even going, brother?”

He turned to his suit-clad little brother, watching him withdraw the piece of folded paper from his pocket. He unfolded it carefully, revealing your delicate, printed writing.

S. Holmes

221B, Baker Street, London.

[starry-pierrot]

Boring Night

Okay So I’m not used to putting stuff like this out and I might not be the best writer out there but here you go!  FNAF Security Breach/OC-self insert/Animatronics  ------- The night had been quiet so far, no one trying to break in and for once the animatronics were taking it easy. Seems like today had been rather tiring as when Zoey last checked on them most of them were in their greenrooms relaxing or playing their arcade games. Though it didn’t come as a big surprise since it was Saturday, the most busy day of the week. They probably had several parties to host and all those kids were such a handful.  This however gave Zoey a lot of free time.

Free time which would usually be used to play around with the animatronics or do her rounds. But she had already completed her third walkthrough and it was only two in the morning, she didn’t exactly want to bother them when they wanted to rest.  Zoey was bored. With a huff the woman sat down at her security room desk pulling out her phone to look around on youtube and occasionally look at the cameras when she noticed that her nail polish had been chipped. “ The heck? I only did that this morning!” Grumbling to herself she tugged her bag closer and searched inside before pulling out the nail polish she had used. It wasn’t often that she had little items like this in her bag, sure she had her usual assortment of items but sometimes she would bring little things to do.The polish would look a little uneven but she didn’t mind.  “ There you are!”  “Chica?” Zoey jumped a little from the animatronic suddenly making an appearance, curious as to why the bird was looking for her. “ I’ve been wonderin’ where you ran off too. I was going to see if you wante-what are you doing?” Chica looked at her as she walked closer looking over the human’s shoulder, curious.

 “ Oh just fixing my nail. The paint chipped off and I don’t like it when my nails get chipped.” Screwing the bottle closed she held out the bottle to show the animatronic as she blew on her newly painted nail. 

Chica gasped and smiled, “ Oh! Can you do mine? I got some other colors back in my room that I use for the kids when there's a party. “ 

Zoey looked at her for a moment then to her hands, some of the others had claws but the chicken did not. “ But you don’t have any nails? Wouldn’t it mess with your paint?” 

“ No no! Freddy’s got some nail replacements that we can use. That teddy bear won't say no to us if we just ask him.” Chica had a point there, Freddy wasn’t one to say no unless it was important.

“ Okay, sure. We can do that.”

----

“ Make sure you get them looking rocking little lady!” Montgomery said as he watched the smaller nightguard paint his claws, she was going with purple to complement his color tone and adding some star decals that Chica had. But the guy wouldn’t stop moving!

“ This would go a lot faster if you quit movin’ gator boy!” Zoey smiled up at the large animatronic while she once again pulled his wrist back to her lap. 

“ Heh-sorry.” 

There they were in Freddy’s green room, Zoey sitting on the couch with Monty next to her, Roxanne already having her nails done in a sparkly neon red sitting on the floor next to Monty, Chica sitting by the vanity enjoying her pink with leopard print nails and Freddy sitting on the other side of Zoey admiring the colors. 

“ Yeah ‘gator boy’ keep your tail still.” Roxane said in a teasing manner. 

“ Girl you don’t want me to put you in the gator pit now do y-” “ Montgomery stay still! I swear both of you are like squabbling children.” As far as Zoey could tell the two had a sibling relationship, much like her own siblings they often got into petty little fits that ended up in the two of them laughing. Usually it’d be cute but right now she couldn’t get those decals to look good if someone kept moving.

“ Both of you calm down.” Suddenly Freddy spoke up, the two froze but ultimately relaxed where they were sitting. Usually Monty would challenge Freddy’s word but she guesses that it just wasn’t worth it this time.

“Sorry.” 

“Sorry.” 

“ Now I’m almost done, Freddy did you pick out a color you want?” 

“ Do you think Nemi would like the color green?” 

Zoey paused as her brain took a second to realize what he had asked and when she did she felt her lips curve into a smile. “ Aww is the big teddy bear choosing color for his boyfriend?” They all kind of knew, it wasn’t hard to see once you saw the two talking together. 

The animatronic jerked as if he was just pulled from a fog in his head, his ears flattening as if he just got caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. If Freddy could blush she was sure he’d be beat red right now,“ I just thought-we’re not-” The others giggling as they watched their leader become jittery.

“ Cool it, Freddy. I’m just teasing you. But yes I do think he would like green.” Blowing on Monty’s claws for a moment before she leaned in close to Freddy, whispering , “ You should also take some of the blue. He’d probably like to do yours too.” 

Freddy looked at her then back to the nail polish but he waited until the night guard turned back to Monty before he snatched the colors storing them inside his chest. Roxanne and Chica giggled having seen what he did but it seems the two were not going to rat him out. 

“There you go, Monty! Now don’t go roughhousing for at least an hour or you’ll ruin them.” 

“ Thanks little lady!” The gator stood up and roughly ruffled Zoey’s hair, she cried out in alarm and annoyance before she fixed her beanie. Just then another sight caught her eye, Moondrop was peeking in from outside the window. As soon as he saw her looking at him he ducked to the side, probably going back to the play area. 

“ Hey guys I’m gonna so see how Moondrop’s doing. “ The others were not surprised by this, somehow Zoey had managed to make friends with Moondrop and while he wasn’t exactly giving her hugs or actively hanging around her the animatronic didn’t seem to mind her in his space. 

“ See ya Missy!” 

“ Have fun with your friend, Zoey.” 

“ Don’t let that sour pants drop you.” 

“ Have fun!” 

With that Zoey had scooped up some of the nail polish, the blue and gold specifically and walked out heading towards the playground. The area was large but she knew exactly where he was. She just wished that it wasn’t so high up. What was easy for the animatronic was not easy for the human who wasn’t very athletic and only went roller-skating maybe twice a month. 

“ Moondrop! You up there bud?” Zoey called as she climbed up the playground’s tallest tower, already she could feel her arms shaking with having to pull her weight around in such a small space. But luckily it seemed that she wouldn’t have to climb the last stretch as suddenly arms shot out and hands gripped her underneath her arms and pulled up. 

Zoey would not admit to the embarrassing squeak she let out. 

“ Hey there! What are you doing all the way up here?” Moondrop looked at her with that same grin he always had. Zoey’s face was red but she tried to ignore the heat on her skin, “ Looking for you! You know if you wanted to join in all you had to do was walk in.” 

“ You know those guys don’t like me much.” 

“ No they don’t like your pranks much. You tried to dye Roxane’s tail hot pink last week!” That had not been a fun time, Freddy had to hold Roxane back while Zoey had to tell Moon off. 

“ They need a sense of humor!” 

“ You need to learn when going too far is too far.” She honestly found most of his pranks funny, sometimes the others did too but he just doesn’t know when to quit. If he just dialed it back a little more then this wouldn’t be an issue. “ If you just quit pranking them all the time I’m sure they’d ask you to come go kart racing or something. Freddy’s been asking about you.”

“Yeah yeah whatever. You come up here to yell at me some more?” The animatronic finally set her down and moved back so he could fall on the large pillows he had dragged up there a long time ago. 

“ No I was going to ask if you wanted me to paint your nails?” Pulling out the colors from her jacket pockets along with some extra nails from Freddy. “ I got gold and blue. Your favorite.” She shook the bottles hoping to make it more enticing. “ And I got sttaaarrrs.” Singing the last bit.

Moondrop looked at her for a moment before he rolled his eye, “ Do what you want.", he held out his hand to her.“ You better put the stars on them.” 

“ I can do that.” 

Seems tonight won't be boring after all. 

[a-square-minus-one]

Honey 6

Sorry I’m so late. Here is chapter 6. Warning: things are getting more explicit in this chapter. Please do not read if you are not older than 18.

There are many things Jacob loves. He loves the soft smacking sound a woman’s lips make when she parts them to let out a little whimper. He’s partial to the whimpers let out after he’s first buried himself in her, the ones towards the end are just a little too high pitched for him. He loves the full chested groan a man makes when he releases. He loves the soft, hesitant touch of a tongue on his lips begging for entrance. And he loves human bars. The precursor to many of these experiences. There is never a shortage of horny people at human bars.

Still, he’s a little disappointed when he walks in at noon to find the bar is empty minus the very tired looking bartender. He rolls his eyes, humans have an arbitrary way of deciding when it is the proper time to imbibe. He almost walks out but he also loves the indulgent food humans decide to fill themselves with. He’s convinced humanity never needed him or his brothers; they have a beautiful way of wrecking themselves. 

Jacob smiles at that thought before the bartender, who apparently is acting as a waiter too, drops the steak and fries in front of him. No. All wrong. He almost loses his appetite. He quickly moves his plate approximately two inches away from his fork on the left and approximately two inches away from his knife on the right. He shifts the angle of the napkin in front of him so that it is perfectly parallel to the plate of steak. There. No. Wait. He grabs his fork and shifts over the two fries that are touching his steak. Finally, there. He cuts into his steak at exactly a forty five degree angle. He finishes his steak and fries when he sees them walk in. 

Ah a brunch date. He leans back in his chair. The woman is in red heels, her hair tousled in a way that suggests she’s laid with someone but he can’t smell sex on her. She must have spent a good amount of her time achieving that look. She looks annoyed as she drops her purse at the bar. Her date, who looks like he didn’t clean himself up after work, almost bumps into her back because he’s too focused on the recaps of last night’s sport in front of her. What pathetic human entertainment is it? Basketball or football? Jacob questions, then quickly realizes he doesn’t care because he catches a whiff of the woman’s hair conditioner when she flips her hair over her shoulder. 

It was clearly a first date but Jacob didn’t sense a spot of lust in the woman for this man. She’s typing furiously on her little device, red painted nails making a clicking sound against her phone screen. She doesn’t even bother to disguise her annoyance. It’s not like the man was much focused anyways. Jacob sips on his water, watching the pair with interest until the man mumbles something about needing to go to the bathroom. At this point the bartender/ waiter is tending to a group of people who just walked in. 

How can I do this cleanly? 

Jacob moves a table in front of the bathroom entrance with his powers. Then he saunters up to the woman and takes a swift seat next to her. His eyes trace the outline of her full red lips and chin. He looks down the slope of her neck. Where it connects to her chest. His eyes trail down to where her breasts disappear into her shirt. She’s distracted by her phone but jumps up when she’s noticed someone has come near her. Her lips part over brilliant white teeth. Yes. Jacob thinks. He can sense the first inkblots of lust staining her insides as she looks him over. Jacob looks towards the group at the opposite end of the restaurant and at the waiter who walked behind doors to put in their order. Jacob uses his powers to block the waiter’s exit with a jukebox. All the while maintaining eye contact with the woman in front of him.

“That man is too inattentive to be a good lover.” He doesn’t leave her any room to argue. She doesn’t try to. He watches as she moves her drink to her lips, wetting her lips. She puts the drink down. 

“The suggestion there being that you actually are a good lover,” the woman rolls her eyes, putting the glass against her lips again. She shakes an ice into her mouth. Jacob takes the glass from her hand and places it slowly onto the bar. The woman watches him, her lips parted deliciously. He needs to move this along much faster. He flicks a strand of her hair over her shoulder and leans his lips close to her ears so that his lips are touching her with each word.

“I can show you,” Lust says, dropping a hand on her upper thigh. He pulls back slightly, just enough to look in her eyes. “I can show you right now. In this seat,” he says, hand massaging circles into her thigh. He feels the woman’s legs part slightly. He starts stretching at the edges of those inkblots of lust in her the higher up her leg he goes. He moves his hand. “Do you want me to touch you? Right here in the open?” 

The woman nods once and he grins. “Spread your legs,” he says. His fingertips graze the edge of her lace panties, where her right leg meets her body. The woman lets out a little breath, looking at the group of people in the corner of the restaurant. Lust places his lips on her ear again.

“They can’t see you,” he says, and he’s done with the whispered touches as he clutches her tightly over her panties. The woman rocks forward with a whimper. He trails his index finger up and down over her slit. The woman looks towards the bathroom.

“He won’t come out,” Lust assures her. “I’m going to finger you in the middle of this restaurant,” Lust says. The woman clutches the edge of the bar. 

“I don’t - ah- know your name,” she says, managing to break his trance momentarily. Lust pushes her panties to the side and touches the outside of her wet lips. She whimpers again and he nuzzles his nose into her neck. 

He has one knuckle inside of her when he feels himself getting pulled back. 

Fucking shit. 

He lands on his feet and turns 360 degrees as quickly as possible. 

Only to recognize that he is in a completely...different room?

A hotel?

Then he recognizes him.

“Was that necessary?” Jacob says, rubbing his wet finger against his pant leg. Jared looks down at the finger Jacob rubbed on his pant leg. His face, with its close lips and dead eyes, shows no glimmer of emotions. Jared takes his time answering Jacob’s question, deciding it was more important to find a comfortable place to sit. He finally decides on the blue, floral print recliner in the corner of the room. The chair looks comically small as Jared sinks his huge, muscular body into it. Jared crosses one leg over the other one and places his hands on his knees. 

“I’m assuming since you are off gallivanting in the streets that you’ve convinced our sister to join our league.” 

Jacob throws his body on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I’ve done no such thing,” Jacob says, picking at something beneath his nail. Jared pauses. Jacob shifts his own body because he can swear Jared is frozen in position. It’s silent.

“So you’ve handled her teammates,” Jared eventually says, moving nothing but his lips. Jacob says nothing, playing with his nail again. One second Jacob’s looking at his nail and the next he’s dragged off the bed by his shirt. Jared’s face is transformed, his teeth are bared and saliva is running down his chin. 

“Our plan runs on a limited time line,” Wrath booms, his spit landing on Jacob’s face. His human form slips and his two eyes split into four blazing red ones.

“Your plan was sloppy,” Jacob says, forcefully removing himself from Wrath’s grip. “And you are not my maker.” He plops down on the bed again. Jared’s lip twitches as his eyes return to normal.

“Sloppy? You hand an appendage inside of a stranger. In the middle of a bar. At noon!” Wrath booms, and his eyes split back into four again. 

“Okay, either two eyes or four. The back and forth is an unnecessary expenditure of energy,” Jacob sighs, looking up at his brother’s tight face. Jared takes a deep, long breath and his eyes return to normal. He returns back to his seat and sits in almost the exact same position as before. Jacob looks at his nails again.

“If you ruin this plan I will rip out your heart with my bare hands and chew on it,” Jared says clearly and slowly. 

“My heart isn’t the best part of my body anyways. I’m sure I won’t miss it. Now as for everything below the belt…” Jacob trails off. Jared’s jaw ticks.

“Did you at least speak with her?” Jared asks. Jacob looks up at his brother and shoots him a closed-lip grin.

“Sometimes I enjoy completing the task you assign to me.”

“What words did you exchange with her?”

“Well…”

.......................................................................

Gar keeps peeking up from the spice packages in front of him to look at Raven. She was thumbing through the packages slowly and gracefully, like when she turned a page in one of her books. Raven looks up and he has to force himself not to look down. He’s not going to be the one to break eye contact. If she can look him directly in the eyes, he can return the favor. 

“Did you find the anise?” Raven asks, her lips pressed together tightly in a thin line. She looks...slightly annoyed. Garfield can feel that his mouth is hanging open but he can’t make words. It’s the first words she’s said to him since her brother left the common room. He wonders how she can look annoyed right now; had he not heard it properly when her brother announced they wanted to be together?  “Changeling.”

“Right...um...still looking,” he says, hating himself for the nervous way he averts his eyes from hers. He stares down at the packets in front of him but no matter how many times his eyes run over the letters he can’t seem to read the words. He can feel her eyes burning holes into his shirt. He hears her suck her teeth and peaks up to see the bottom of her feet walking away from him toward the crystals section. 

She hadn’t even tried to address what Jacob said when her barrier broke. She just started barking out directions to everyone. You go to the florist...And you get the mortar and pestle...And Garfield will come with me to the wiccan shop. And she had looked at him directly in the eye, with her chin tilted up as if daring him to question whether it was odd for them to go on a solo trip after what had just been said. He thought she was insane. Did she not have a hundred questions in her head right now? She was more militant and precise than Nightwing.

Anise! He plucks the package. Finally, his eyes were working again. 

Raven. Sexually attracted to him. He drops the anise package. Holy crap. He’s spent the whole past hour chewing on what she could possibly be thinking that he hadn’t even thought about that. How did one even begin to think about that? They are close friends now, always had been, but Garfield is sure he isn’t exaggerating when he remembers that there was a solid year where Raven would roll her eyes anytime Garfield parted his lips. Raven? Wanting to be near him? Desiring him? Garfield shakes his head. He looks at Raven who places a purple crystal into her bag. Her eyes meet his. Again. He scampers to pick up the anise package and hits his head against the side of the table. Garfield clenches his eyes tightly, resisting the urge to yelp out. After a few moments he peaks at Raven through his lashes.

Raven’s lips are in a tight line again. Her shoulders look straight and tight. He feels irritation pricking his own skin like a thousand little needle points. She could at least look a little concerned. She tilts her chin to the checkout line.

They wait in line, shoulder to shoulder, with probably exactly six inches between their bodies. How does she not feel the weight in the air? He looks at her, purposefully, waiting for her to turn her head and meet his eyes. She’s staring intently at the potion bottles behind the cash register with such a disinterested look that Garfield is sure that she had to do a lot of work to make her lips the perfect distance between a frown and a smile. Because there is absolutely no way. He knows she has a tight rein on her emotions but she cannot possibly be this comfortable in the knowledge that was just dropped on them. But Gar isn’t about to bring it up in the middle of a wiccan shop. 

So they stand in line. Silently. 

Then take a long flight back to the Tower. Silently.

Then enter the elevator of the Tower. Silently.

“So we’re going with ignoring it?” Garfield challenges, arms crossed over his chest. Raven glances at him. “Just trying to make sure we’re on the same page.” 

Raven looks forward and doesn’t say a word. He notices her fingers are pink because of how tightly she’s clenching the plastic bag of supplies.  

“And taking it out on shopping bags apparently,” he says. She loosens her fingers immediately. 

“We have more pressing issues.”

Garfield pauses. They’re almost to the common room.

“If we talk about it it would probably be a lot less awkward.”

“It’s not awkward.”

“You sure? Because you’ve been switching from making the most eye contact I’ve ever seen you make with anyone to starring anywhere but my face for the past half an hour.” 

“I’m so eternally sorry if I haven’t been keeping track of how long I’m looking at you Changeling. My brothers are trying to release my father from Hell.” She says it like she’s seconds away from picking her nails but of course that would require her to look anywhere but the elevator buttons she’s intently focused on.

“Yeah I know, one of them told all our friends we wanted to fuck each other,” Garfield says and he knows its crude but if she’s going to be this difficult he’s going to give himself room to act the same. 

“Jesus-” Raven exclaims, smacking a hand to her forehead and turning to face him. He thinks she looks kind of like a tornado. 

“I think your brothers are a little further south than him,” he says. Because apparently he wants to die young.  

“Clearly Jacob is saying anything to distract us,” Raven bites out, pointing a finger at his chest. He’s come a long way from the sixteen year old boy seeking constant validation but her words make him play with the point of his left ear.

“Clearly?” Garfield asks lamely. Raven’s eyes widen at the same time he realizes he wants to vacuum the word back into his mouth. Raven pauses, her fingers now curled in a loose fist between them. 

“Yes. I mean- you’re not attracted to me?” Raven mumbles, her words tumbling past her lips in a weird pitch. Garfield has long since sucked his lips into his mouth, hoping nothing else would come out. He tries to find the right words. ‘No I’m not’ would do just fine, he tells himself. 

But instead the elevator opens up on the whole team. Plus Aqualad. And Terra. His girlfriend. Raven’s already halfway out of the elevator. She turns away from Garfield in a millisecond but it’s slow enough for Garfield to watch the way her lips return to their frustratingly perfect line. It takes Garfield a few more seconds to exit the elevator with the same level of nonchalance. 

[eveningcatcher]

Courtiers' reaction when MC wakes up after a nightmare

Volta:

The tiny Volta was just about to munch on her 4th-midnight snack before she went to bed. As she nibbled on the huge sandwich, which looked even more enormous in comparison to her, she heard a soft, quiet cry. She was surprised by such noise, since the last time she heard someone cry was her herself, which hasn't happened in at least a century. Her tiny footsteps echoed in the dusty hallways as she followed that miserable sound.

Once the procurator was sure she was close to that sad person, she realised she was in front of the doors of your bedroom. She knocked on the door twice, waiting for an answer.

The cry stopped and she heard nothing.

"MC... I'll get in alright?" she said and waited for a moment, then slowly turned the knob, as if she was afraid of scaring you, and went inside the room.

You were cuddled up on the bed, hugging a pillow.

"I, I'm fine," you brushed off your tears, "Sorry for making you worry."

"It's okay," she said as she sat right next to you, "Here," she handed you her sandwich, "Food always makes me feel better," she gave you a genuine smile.

"I... thanks," you smiled back and took a bite of her sandwich, "Oh, you put bacon here," you chuckled softly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked you, leaning on your shoulder.

"I mean, now that I think about it," you put your hand on her shoulder, "It's quite stupid, you know? Like those dreams you have that don't make any sense, but like, when you dreamt it, it all felt so real and logical."

"Oh I totally understand it," she nodded in agreement, "One time I had a dream that Vulgora and Valdemar switched places, with Valdemar being the loud one, always telling people how they'll crush them, while Vulgora was quiet and just stared oddly at people. They switched clothes, too!"

You laughed, imagining the silly scenario, "Yeah, Vulgora will never be quiet," you giggled, but then your expression got more serious, "I dreamt that I was laying on the dinner table and then there were Lucio's dogs... eating my organs," you shook at the thought, "But then, they ran off, and for some reason, a huge mole-like creature appeared."

"And, and?" she asked, curious.

"And then it continued where the dogs left off," you started shaking, "I was screaming, begging it to stop, but it didn't listen... it just feasted on my flesh..."

"I..." Volta buried her head in your chest, "I'm sorry..." she hugged you, "But don't worry, such a thing won't happen! I promise!"

"Thank you, Volta," you hugged her back, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead, "We should go to sleep now," you pulled them closer, giving her a tight hug, "Could you please sleep here with me?"

"Of course," she pats your back, then gestures at the sandwich you left aside, "Are you going to finish that?"

Read the whole chapter here

Vlastomil:

"MC, MC..." someone called out to you, "MC, wake up!"

You opened your eyes, gripping on the soft sheets tightly, "Vlastomil," you hugged the man next to you, "I...I was so scared..."

"It's alright, everything is fine now," they pat your head gently, "When I saw you shaking I was so scared! I know that's not supposed to happen when you sleep."

"I was shaking?" you took a glance at the window, looking outside. The sky was cloudless, painted in navy blue with a spray of gorgeous white stars. Everything looked peaceful outside, which calmed you down a bit.

"Oh yes, so very much! It nearly... no, it woke me up. Yes!" he smiled almost a bit too much for such a statement.

"I'm sorry," you rubbed on their bony hand, "I'm so sorry," you started sobbing.

"What's wrong now?" he asked, a bit annoyed.

You didn't respond, instead, you just hugged him, "I had a terrible dream," you started explaining as you buried your head deep into his chest, "I dreamt that everyone around me got the plague," you rubbed your eyes, trying not to tear up, "Asra, Nadia, Volta, you," you started crying, "You were all dying and I, and I... I couldn't help you. I just watched you all die..." you continued crying, letting Vlastomil's shirt get wet with your tears.

"Oh please stop crying," he hugged you back, "I'm going to start crying too..." he gently pat your head, "I'll make us some tea, how does that sound?"

"You don't have to do that."

"Nonsense," he shook it off, wrapping you in warm blankets, "I'll be right back."

You tried to get out of the blankets but to no avail, Vlastomil has wrapped you up tightly, making you look like his worms. After some more tries, you realised that escaping is not an option. So you just laid there, waiting for him to return.

'He didn't even bring a candle with himself,' you thought.

"I'm back," he put the tea on the bedside table, "Guess who wanted to join us?" he put Wiggler right next to you, "Oh, I guess I've wrapped the blankets too tightly, no?" he unwrapped you gently, trying his best not to scratch you with his nails, "Wiggler always makes me feel better, I'm sure she'll help you too!"

"Thanks," you sat on the bed, taking the worm in your lap, "Could you please light the candles, I can't see anything."

"There are no more matches," he said with annoyance as he threw the empty box, "I'll have to order those pesky servants to buy some more."

You smiled at the comment, knowing how he is still salty because of today's events. "Still angry about the forgotten worm food?"

"Of course, I tell that new girl to bring me three things. Only three things. And what does she do?" he started rambling, "She brings only two."

You giggled at his complaints, sipping your tea happily.

"I could have lived without those two, but she just had to forget the most important thing!"

You nodded in silence, enjoying praetor's company. The night was calm, Wiggler wiggly and Vlastomil was ranting like usual, and all of that assured you that everything will be fine.

Vulgora:

"What's with the long face?" They asked you as they watched you shake from your usual nap.

"It's just that I've had a strange dream, you know?"

"So?" they asked you, waiting for your response. After a moment of your silence, they continued, "Don't tell me you're disturbed by a dream of all things. How old are you, five?"

"I..." you looked down, rubbing your temple, "Yeah, you're right." you stood up from the bed, stretching, "It's just weird, you know?"

"I don't know and I don't care," they responded as they put on their headdress, "It's just a dream, get over it."

"True," you chuckled as you made the bed, "I can't believe I got scared from beetles of all things."

"Beetles?" they turned to you, "You dreamt beetles?"

"Yeah, I dreamt that there was a whole swarm of beetles," you dropped the pillow back to the bed, and started explaining, "Like, It was huge!" you outstretched your hands, "And they were all flying to me, you know, like, all I could see was a sea of red!"

"Yes and?" they asked you with a bit of hype, "What then?"

"They landed on me and started biting me. Not eating me, they just bit me over and over again, " you sighed, looking to the side, "So yeah... that's what happened."

They looked at you surprised, "But beetles aren't that bad!" they protested.

"I don't know, Vulgora, their legs and antennas are scary," you shivered at the thought, "And the fact they seem to devour just anything..."

"Nonsense!" they grabbed your hand a not so gently, leading you outside, "Beetles are fucking adorable!"

"I don't know-"

"Shush," they cut you off, tugging you until you haven't picked up the speed, "Stop complaining already! The only ones who are scared of beetles are tiny roaches, and there is no fucking way you're going to be in that group!"

"We're not actually looking for beetles, are we?"

"Stop complaining and start walking faster! You know what," they picked you up, put you over their shoulder like a bag of potato, and started sprinting out of their mansion, "This is much better! Beetles should be here somewhere..." they looked at the grass, "No, not here..." they walked towards some bushes, "Not here either... I swear whenever I don't need beetles they are all over the fucking place, but now they are nowhere! Can you believe it?!?"

"No, I can't... Oh no, this is a disaster~" you responded as you tried to move away from their tight grasp, "Maybe we should just go home and call it a day."

"No way!" they stiffened their grip on you, "We're not leaving until we find a beetle! There!" they dropped you down, crouching near the small beetle, "Told you!" they crouched to the small beetle who was just vibing in the sun, then grabbed it, "Isn't it adorable? It's nibbling on a... bird's wing, awww," they grinned, "And it doesn't seem to be more than a week old, it's a born warrior, isn't it MC?" they turned to you, " MC, why the fuck are you running?!? Come back! Hey!"

You didn't listen to them, instead, you've started sprinting, "Sorry, but I'm not going anywhere near that thing!"

"Oh, you will!" they got to you faster than you expected them to, "We're adopting this beetle, you hear me!" they run up to you, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt, "Stop running, it's not that scary! Look," they put the beetle who was still nibbling on the wing, "See? Nothing scary. Now stop making a fuss!"

You didn't even flinch, fear has taken control over your body, "Vulgora, please, please, take it off my hand."

"I'm not your fucking servant! Take Chadslav off yourself!"

"Chadslav?" you asked them as your whole body trembled.

"Yeah, our adopted child!" they laughed, their voice echoing the garden, "Aren't they the cutest?" they pet the beetle with their pointer finger, "See? It doesn't bite me. Come on," they lifted your left hand, "Pet it!"

You slowly moved your hand to the beetle but stopped for a moment to see which part of it is the least dangerous to touch.

"Hurry up damn it!" they grabbed your hand, forcefully shoving it on the beetle. Surprisingly, the beetle didn't seem to do much. In fact, it didn't even seem to care; it just continued to munch down on what's left of the bird's wing.

"See???" they took the beetle off your hand and gently put it on their shoulder, to which the beetle seemed to happily oblige, "Now we should do some renovating on this place for this young champion!"

"You're not really thinking about adopting a beetle and raising as a child?"

"Why the fuck not?" they asked you as they patted the beetle, "I don't see any problem. Human brats are a bother anyway."

Valerius:

"What's wrong dear?" Valerius walked into the room with a glass of wine, "Was the last night's dinner not to your liking? Or perhaps three glasses of wine were too much for you?" he joked.

"No, it's not that. It's just that, "you gave him a serious look, "Please don't laugh at me for it, but I had a nightmare."

"Oh," he mused, "So, the great magician is scared?"

"Val, I'm serious," you cut him off, "I know it sounds absurd, but, I think I contacted a demon."

"What?" he chuckled.

"Or maybe he's not a demon," you started shaking, " but he's not anything good either!"

"Are you sure you didn't have too much alcohol?" he sat beside you, putting the glass of wine on the bedside table, "I was like that before, you know? Though, over time, I've built my-"

"Val, please," your eyes became watery, "Listen to me! Stop joking!"

"..." he was silent for a little while, debating whether he should keep on joking with you or not. Once he saw that you were on the brink of crying, he scooped you up in his hands and laid in bed with you, "Sorry for that," he said as he played with your hair, "What did you dream?"

You didn't respond right away, instead, you took the time to enjoy his tight embrace, "Honestly, the dream itself wasn't as scary, it's just that there was something off," you started explaining, "I dreamt that I was in the field of flowers, can't remember which flowers though," you added, "And there, in the middle of the field, there was a man. He looked plain, like any other guy, but his, his voice," you shivered, to which Valerius hugged you tighter, "It was not human!" you hugged Valerius, "He said that he would like to make me an offering and-"

"And?" he asked, with a somewhat insecure voice, "What did you say? What did he offer?"

"I don't know what he offered," you admitted as you grabbed his braid, trailing its pattern with your finger, "I started running away, chanting the words from one of my exorcism books."

He let out a barely audible sigh as he put his head on yours, "That's..." he started, but seemed to not know how to continue the thought. 

After a moment of thinking, he continued, "...Quite a dream you had," he chuckled and continued, a bit nostalgic, "It seems you might have the worst luck. Did you do any weird rituals?"

"Valerius for the last time," you told him, annoyed, "Magic is not all about rituals! And no, I did no such thing."

"Still, " he frowned, "Don't do anything stupid and don't listen to that man. Promise me."

"I promise," you said before you kissed the cheek, "What's with all of this seriousness? Two minutes ago you were mocking me," you laughed.

"I-" you put a finger on their lips.

"Sh," you moved your finger, quickly stealing a kiss from him, "Let's just enjoy the moment, alright?"

"Sure."

Valdemar:

You woke up in the middle of the night, alone in bed with cold sweat running down your cheek.

Where are they?

You quickly stood up and called out: "Valdemar!"

Nothing.

"Valdemar, are you here?" you stood out of the bed, walking towards their laboratory.

You walk through the hallways, being very careful not to trip. And soon enough, you're in front of their laboratory.

'The candles are lit. They must be in there,' you thought as you knocked on the door.

No answer.

You knocked again, a bit harsher, and waited. Nothing.

"Valdemar, it's me-" you shivered as you felt a cold hand grab your shoulder.

"Oh my, and why are you awake this late, hm?" Valdemar asked you as they leaned forward, petting your hair with their other hand.

"I, I had a nightmare," you turned to them, giving them a tight hug, "And, and I didn't see you in bed-"

"Oh, why that is because a new idea came to my mind not to while ago," they admitted, "After all, who has the time to sleep when there are so many mysteries waiting to unfold, no?"

"Well, yes, but," you started sobbing, "I was frightened."

"MC," they raised your head, making you look at them, "Dreams are just a string of random thoughts that occur during sleep. While it might have some realistic aspects, it's not real. Not even a bit," they led you back to the bedroom, "So I can assure you that, whatever you have dreamt, is just a product of your brain's imagination. It's not real."

"I, I know, but it felt so real..."

"And what is it that felt so real?" they looked at you, moving a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I had a dream that you died."

For a moment, they were quiet, trying to think of a response. Their eyes seem to go over the room, looking at anything but you. At the end though, all they did was a chuckle, "Oh, silly MC," the brushed their cold hands over your cheek, "There is no way I could die," they grinned, "You know that, don't you?"

"Well yes," you started explaining as you hugged the quaestor, "But when I woke up and saw that you weren't next to me, I got so worried..."

"I can assure you, your worries are trivial. Now, you need sleep, do you not?"

"You need it too."

"Oh, do not worry your silly head with me anymore," they mocked you, "Sleep now, won't you? I'll join you as soon as I finish writing something down," they put you to bed and left, their footsteps being the last thing you heard before going to dreamless slumber.

On the other side of Valdemar's mansion, the quaestor wasn't as peaceful as you were. Your words have left an impact on them, making them think about it more than they should.

' What an intriguing situation,' they thought to themselves, amused, ' They were so disturbed by the thought... Humans have never failed to amaze me'

[ivegotbreadinmypants]

16 normal witcher au , 1 , 34

Geralt/Jaskier—Angst

Prompt list post—

AU: 16 - Supernatural AU

Trope: 1 - Friends to Lovers

Prompt: 34 - “I don’t even know why we’re doing this.”

A/N: Oh lord, this ended up being so long lmao. I got pretty damn inspired by this prompt and my brain got carried away. But I swear, not every prompt is going to be as long or angsty as this one. This one—oof

Word Count: 3317

Warning: Angst, light self-loathing on Geralt’s side.

By the time they leave the tavern, the village has been swallowed by darkness, the sky an inky black. The innkeeper who gave them their contract didn’t spare details, possibly the result of the air of fear emanating from everyone in the village.

People wander into the woods in the middle of the night, usually after days of complaining of horrific dreams; it’s brought everyone on edge, eyes full of distrusting hope when they see the Witcher and the bard enter the tavern.

They’ve crossed the blood-stained meadows and are already skirting the edge of the forest when Jaskier asks, “What is it? The creature?”

The poor bard nearly slips on an unseen rock, giving a startled yelp that disturbs the rows of crows resting on branches above them. Geralt turns around, a nasty glare in his glowing amber eyes. Jaskier used to think they were beautiful.

“Shut up,” the Witcher grits out, continuing down the path without waiting for the bard. A deep frown covers Jaskier’s face, eyes dull, but only for a second, because he doesn’t want—

Jaskier straightens up and forges on, ignoring the hollow beating of his heart.

When Geralt approached him two months ago—a full year after it—Jaskier had thought things would change, that everything would be different and being with Geralt doesn’t have to mean having his heart squeezed and broken as if it were a nailed to a wheel—the cycle repeating over and over.

He thought everything would go back to the way it was, but better, after the Witcher had willingly apologised—after the man had opened his heart and let every hurt pour out in full view for the bard. He’d been wrong.

Geralt is still as well-guarded as he was, even after they shared a painfully tender moment when he gave his apology. It’s like Geralt wants to erase the memory of that having happened.

At first, Jaskier thought it was down to Geralt still not used to being generally open with his feelings—that the man needs a little more time to adjust to their slightly different dynamic. But as time passed, as the scathing remarks and dry barks from the White Wolf never once relented, Jaskier had a slow dreadful realization. Geralt isn’t going to change.

And it’s only a matter of time before it—Jaskier’s heart skips a tormenting beat—happens again.

Jaskier doesn’t want to be here when his whole world inevitably burns down to ashes again.

He trails after Geralt a little ways, giving them both space—space that Jaskier despises now because he knows no matter how much land there is between the two of them, Jaskier will always feel like there’s galaxies of space separating them.

He feels like a husk, an empty shell of who he used to be, and it’s getting worse the longer he lingers and waits for his heart to be shattered in the hands of the man he used to trust with his life.

He has to leave. It’s hurting him in ways he can’t even see, can’t even fathom. He can’t see the extent of his grisly scars because they’ve been woven into his skin for so long he’s forgotten.

Twenty-two years and counting.

Jaskier bites on his lip, pressing hard until it tears through. Copper tinges his tongue and he wonders how much longer will he not feel the pain. Everything is so numb it hurts.

Geralt stops, sniffs the air.

The bard inwardly sighs, an ire-stricken face of one Witcher popping into his head. He doesn’t have to meet Geralt’s eyes to feel the vexation.

“Jaskier, what the fuck?”

This time, Jaskier sighs out loud, “What, Geralt? It’s nothing.”

Geralt spins on his heel, a twitch in his eyebrow when he notices the space between the two of them, and crosses the threshold to enter Jaskier’s space.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. Just bit my lip on accident,” Jaskier mutters, quiet and meek and nothing like him.

Geralt doesn’t need Witcher senses to know something is wrong, because even he cocks his head a little to the side, a curious look to his otherwise irritated gaze.

Jaskier looks up, drawing his eyes to meet amber ones. He’s struck with the thought this may be the last time he’ll ever see them.

His voice is soft. “I don’t even know why we’re doing this.”

Geralt’s brows furrow, some of the hated ire vanishing. “To finish the contract. The alp.”

Jaskier’s lips stretch into half a smile, but it’s hollow and dimmed. His words are defeated, softer now. “That’s not what I mean, Geralt.”

The Witcher loses some of his confused fog, something acute and sharp in his eyes replacing it.

“Jaskier,” there’s the smallest pressing tone in his voice. The bard only breathes out, a cheap imitation of a chuckle, a little too quick for it to be a normal conversation; even then, it sounds flat.

There isn’t even a shadow of anger in Jaskier’s body, all of the fiery feelings snuffed out over hours, days and months of waiting for Geralt to change. But there’s a deep sadness painted on every surface within, delicate and unwavering, never leaving.

Jaskier’s blue eyes bore into Geralt’s, words easing out of his mouth. “I can’t keep doing this.”

The sharpness in golden honey hardens, the gruffness accentuated, “Jaskier.”

Jaskier takes a step back—avoiding his touch—when the Witcher reaches out, as if he wanted to shake sense into the bard. For the first time in a long time, Jaskier sees something in Geralt crack.

The poet—but is he one anymore? He hasn’t written anything in so long—shakes his head, standing taller. “I’m leaving, Geralt.”

There’s a sharp inhale, the leather of his armor creaking when he reels back, the line of Geralt’s jaw hardening under the moonlight, as if he was struck.

Jaskier dimly realizes this may actually hurt Geralt.

But he forges on, blue eyes unrelenting in the darkness, “I’m leaving.”

“No,” Geralt bites out, his upper lip curling.

Something in Jaskier sparks, blazing hot for a split second. “What do you want? C’mon Geralt, what do you really want? You tell me to go away and when I do, you come running back. Then when I say I’m leaving, you don’t allow me to.”

His words aren’t as cutting as he wants them to be, but it gets the point across.

Geralt stares, the Adam’s apple of his throat bobbing.

“I have to leave, Geralt. I have to go.”

Then his eyes go unfocused, staring past Jaskier, the line of his shoulders going straight as a rod.

Jaskier opens his mouth, but Geralt puts a hand up, tilting his head a bit.

The heat comes back roaring within Jaskier, “How dare—”

“Shh.” Geralt comes closer, his eyes now searching the line of trees surrounding them. Jaskier narrows his eyes, but then the anger in him dies out quickly when he hears it too. Crunching grass. Footsteps.

“Must have smelled your blood,” Geralt mutters.

Jaskier pushes Geralt, “Go.”

But Geralt doesn’t budge, his hand snapping out to grab onto Jaskier’s wrist, his full attention now on the bard. Not for the first time, Jaskier feels trapped under golden eyes, but instead of anger or exasperation greeting him, there’s pained desperation.

“Stay,” Geralt says, as if leaving was out of the question. Jaskier takes another step back, shaking his head, but he’s held in place by Geralt’s grip on his wrist. “No, Geralt, you don’t understand. I have to.”

“No, I understand, Jaskier. I do. But, please, fuck—please,” Jaskier flinches at the sound of a twig snapping. She’s getting closer.

Geralt’s tightened fingers bring him back, cornflowers on gold. A battered heart meeting desperation.

There’s nothing fake about it, only the most earnest desolation swimming in amber honey.

“Stay.”

Tightened fingers go lax, turning around Jaskier’s wrist so Geralt’s thumb can skim over his pumping pulse. The touch is gentle, delicate and scared.

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers, not even twitching at the sound of louder footsteps, and tugs lightly on the bard, bringing the speechless man a little closer. They’re breathing the same air, almost nose-to-nose, and Geralt only has eyes for him.

“Don’t leave.”

Jaskier can feel something else in him spark, brighter than anything.

The sound of a shriek is what breaks Geralt out of his trance, but the haunted urgency doesn’t leave. He turns around and there she is—

Naked, blood-soaked, red-headed. The alp.

Geralt turns back to Jaskier and somehow, the anguish in his face is worse.

Jaskier can’t stop the rushed words escaping him, “I won’t.”

Geralt opens his mouth, but Jaskier places his hand over his lips, speaking faster now, “At the inn. I promise.”

Then Jaskier nudges him, nodding to the impatient vampire awaiting the Witcher. Geralt only spares the smallest of nods, and spins on his heel, brandishing his silver sword.

Jaskier doesn’t waste a moment, turning in the other direction and sprinting away from the action.

For a moment, Jaskier wants to run away. To leave.

——

The fight is rushed, over relatively quick. Maybe it’s because of the Black Blood coursing through his veins, or maybe it’s because of the relentless fear rushing through his body—piercing his heart and haunting his mind.

He cuts the head off of the alp and heads off to the tavern. He storms through the rotting wooden door—with the urgency of a man scared of losing the most important thing to him—and drops the head on the bar, staring at the barkeep with blackened eyes and blood-splattered armor.

The man is quick to toss the bag of coin his way, and when Geralt catches the bag, he turns away to rush out, not wasting time to speak a word. He steps towards the inn—the smallest of tension leaking out of his shoulders when he scents the pine and cedar and sea-salt at the threshold of the inn.

He skips steps when he climbs the stairs, following the awfully familiar scent like a dog following a treat. He fears the scent is old, because it’s the same room they got the previous night, and that Jaskier is long gone—run away like he said he would.

But he opens the door and the scent overwhelms him, drowning him in painful relief and dread.

Now that the danger has passed, he’ll have to face something worse than an alp.

Jaskier is sitting upon the bed, staring out the window with an air of melancholy that smells like cold soot—like a campfire that died overnight. The man turns to face him and it’s Geralt’s turn to feel trapped. He realizes all of the bard’s belongings are packed, right next to the man in question.

“I admit. I was thinking of—”

“Leaving,” Geralt finishes, his throat closing against his will. Jaskier nods, taking a soft breath that punches Geralt’s out of his chest.

Jaskier’s brows furrow, “The potion hasn’t run its course?”

He must be seeing the inky blackness of Geralt’s eyes, the deathly grey veins spanning over his sallow skin.

“Yes. I wanted to—” Geralt swallows hard, glancing to the floor, changing his words, “I didn’t want to be too slow.”

“So… you just ran over here?” Jaskier asks, slow, as if he’s scared of the implication. Geralt nods, jerky and awkward. He steps away from the doorway and glances at Jaskier, asking permission.

Jaskier looks between him and the door, something warring within his eyes, but something must have won because he ducks his head and quietly says, “Close it.”

Geralt inhales shakily and shuts the door behind him. He takes the first step towards the bed, knowing how horrible he must look in candlelight—bloody, pale, and spellbound by one thing and one thing only.

Jaskier looks away and that—

The small crack in Geralt splinters.

Geralt grits his teeth and steps away from the bed, settling down next to the fireplace, away from the bard. Everything feels precarious, like glass, like everything is balancing on one point and Geralt—God, he will do anything in his power to stop it from tipping over.

Jaskier sits there, waiting. Geralt knows he doesn’t have much time. There’s nothing right now that’s in his favour, except for the fact Jaskier is still here.

God, he’s still here.

Waiting, expecting something more—something that Geralt should have given him a long time ago.

Waiting.

Even after everything.

Geralt knows he’s so fucking selfish, asking him to stay when the bard should have left the moment he met the Witcher in Posada.

Asking him to stay when he almost got him killed, his throat torn to shreds.

Asking him to stay when he has the fucking gall to say the infuriating bard isn’t his best friend—his only friend.

Asking him to stay when he shut Jaskier out, letting an invitation to his open heart and a trip to the coast fall on deaf ears.

Asking him to stay when he said the only thing he knows will break the bard, blaming every shitshow he gets himself into on the poor man.

Begging him to stay when he has no fucking right to even look at those cornflower eyes.

Geralt is the first to break the deserved silence, “I’m sorry.”

Jaskier doesn’t even look up. “For what? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“For everything.” Geralt’s tongue thickens in his mouth. “Everything I let you go through. Everything I did to you.”

Jaskier is quick to shake his head, “Geralt, you didn’t do anything to me—”

“Yes. I did.” Geralt looks down. “When was the last time you wrote a song?”

It’s silent. It’s enough of an answer for the Witcher.

“Jaskier.” His tone is almost begging, hoping the man will meet his eyes. And he does, but the look in those eyes he loves with every fibre of his being is stricken, teary and hurt. “I know you’re hurting yourself the longer you’re with me. I can see it.”

Jaskier’s breath becomes shaky.

“Jaskier. You can leave—I’ll let you leave. I will.” Geralt is wishing to every djinn out there that he won’t.

He licks his lips and hopes his heart doesn’t pop out of his chest from how hard it’s thumping in his ribcage. “If you listen to what I’m going to say.”

Jaskier nods his head, patient and still looking the saddest Geralt has ever fucking seen him.

Geralt locks his gaze onto Jaskier, pouring every bit of his heart into his eyes.

“Jaskier—”

Geralt clenches his fists.

“I love you.”

A beat.

Nothing but the blood rushing in his ears, his teeth grinding as his heart spills out from his sleeve and onto the carpet in front of him.

The sound torn from Jaskier’s mouth is harsh, cutting and so fucking grating it twists something in Geralt.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, right?” Jaskier rocks backwards on the bed, a cold laugh bubbling in his throat. But when he faces Geralt again, his face is splotchy, eyes red and tears glistening in warm candlelight—looking heartbroken.

“You can’t—Geralt,” his name sounds raw and wobbly out of the bard’s mouth, “You can’t fucking say that. You can’t.”

Geralt’s jaw is hardened when he grits out, “But it’s true.”

“How long?” Jaskier snaps.

Geralt straightens up, meeting his gaze. “Cintra. The bathtub.”

Jaskier’s gaze cuts deep, splaying him open, and Geralt can’t keep the eye contact, looking away.

“Right after I said I didn’t…” Geralt furrows his brows, “need anyone.”

“I realized what I said was wrong. But I didn’t want—I couldn’t take it back.”

Jaskier looks even sadder, something dark swirling in those bright irises. They used to remind Geralt of the sea, full of life and depth. Now, all he sees is dull, glassy eyes.

“Geralt—”

“I know I can’t apologize for everything overnight,” he blurts, something in him pushing him forward to pull through, “I know I can’t. But I want to try. Fuck, I want to try. For as long as it takes.”

It’s like steel forging within him, giving him the strength to yank out the last bit of brutal honesty. His words are a rumble, like thunder in a storm, “Because I don’t want to travel the Continent without you by my side.”

Jaskier is silent, parsing Geralt with his beautiful eyes.

The longer the quiet stretches, the more his hope dwindles in his chest, fluttering down into nothing.

“Promise me.”

“Anything,” Geralt is quick to say. It pulls a twitch of the lips from the bard.

“Promise me you’ll try. You can hurt me with your words and I’ll bite back—I swear to all the Gods, Geralt—I’ll fucking bite back.” Jaskier narrows his eyes, breathing out slowly. “But I’ll forgive you because I know you’re trying.”

Jaskier digs his fingers into the blankets, “So you have to promise me you’ll try. Otherwise I’ll leave. I’ll leave and I’ll never go out of my way to look for your stupid face again.”

“I promise, Jask,” he mutters, the words so deafening over the quiet crackling of the fire behind him.

“I-I’ll never sing your stupid songs, I’ll never speak of you again, I—” his voice cracks, a sob echoes and Geralt snaps up, his heart breaking at the sight of Jaskier crying, “—I won’t have to pretend like every insult of yours doesn’t make me question if everything is real—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt snaps and oh Gods, Jaskier fucking whimpers and fuck—

Geralt can’t stop himself from jumping to his feet and rushing over to Jaskier, picking up the man and plopping him into his lap as he sits on the bed, despite the bard’s protests.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt mumbles. The second his hand starts running through Jaskier’s brown hair, the bard quietens, his hands gripping onto Geralt’s armor as if it were an anchor.

They settle like that, Jaskier’s heart-breaking sobs muffled by Geralt’s blood-stained armor, his strong arms curled protectively around the bard.

But Jaskier wiggles out of his hold after a long moment, and braces his thighs around Geralt’s hips and—

He kisses Geralt.

The Witcher isn’t one to waste time, quick to reciprocate in movement and emotion.

It’s both everything and nothing that Geralt had imagined it to be. He never thought it would be salty with tears, or that they’re both so hurt and raw and open in a way Geralt never is. But it fills the gaping hole in his chest just like he thought it would, warm and tantalizing and soothing like a balm.

Everything isn’t going to be fixed overnight, they both know that. Everything is on the line for the two of them; the bard has his whole heart, soul and mind devoted to this; Geralt doesn’t want to lose the only thing that matters to him.

So, Geralt has to try. Wants to try. To fix every little tear and scar between the two of them. It may take days, months, years—Geralt doesn’t care. He’d spend his whole fucking life trying to make it up to the bard if he must.

But he has to start somewhere. And so he starts honesty in every action.

Geralt pulls away for a moment and grumbles on Jaskier’s lips, “In the forest, you said, ‘you don’t know why you’re doing this’.”

Jaskier nods, confused. Geralt’s arm tightens its hold on the other man’s waist, pulling them flushed, and the Witcher mumbles, “I’ll give you my answer. Because I want to touch you so much—”

Geralt’s nose trails the line of Jaskier’s throat, teeth grazing his collarbone, reveling in how the man in his arms shivers. “—it fucking burns.”

And he must say, it’s already looking up.

[fleckcmscott]

To Have and To Hold

Summary: Y/N makes an oversight at work. The resulting extra hours with Arthur delight them both.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Words: 4,272

A/N: This story had been kicking around in my head for about two months, but I hadn’t been sure if I was going to write it. Then I read @sweet-nothings04‘s amazing Hand-in-Hand (which you all need to check out, if you haven’t), and knew I had to put it on paper. Thanks to her for the inspiration to finally develop this, and for the title, too!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open! 

Perhaps it was the sunshine that stirred her. Or the horns of traffic on congested streets. The hammering of a distant construction site. The chatter and occasional yelling of passersby.  The hum of Gotham awakening.

Y/N blinked in confusion - how could it be so bright this early? - and squinted at the clock at Arthur's side of the bed. No numbers greeted her, just its blank, plastic display. Stretching, she reached to her left for her watch, in its spot by the beige rotary phone on the nightstand.

"Shit!"

Nearly knocking over her glass of water, she clambered off the mattress. Arthur had warned her the lights could go off in his apartment. Not often and not for long. But enough to annoy. Naturally, his building's shoddy electricity had to mess with the alarm today. When she'd stayed up too late. When he'd had to leave ahead of her to commute to the other end of the city for a rare winter gig. When her body had chosen to oversleep in the coziness of his blankets.

Her nylons had never been yanked on with such haste. Arthur had made coffee but she skipped it in favor of brushing her teeth. Pausing on her way out, she took a calcium supplement and grabbed a note from the counter. She read it while riding the wood-paneled, graffiti covered elevator: "Your presentashin will be great. You snored a lot. Good thing your cute. - Arthur." He always signed his name. As though she wouldn't recognize his scrawl. As if anyone else wrote her sweet, sassy missives. She grinned until she hopped on the for-once punctual subway.

The presentation he'd referred to was set for that afternoon. She was expected to discuss the evidence and court file for this week's contested hearing. Last night, she'd sat at Arthur's breakfast bar to compile the case's final details and finish prep sheets. Gently, she'd rebuffed his subtle advances. His attempts to draw her attention from work to him.

Excitement had been palpable as he'd hovered near her. She was fairly certain she knew the cause because it enthused her as well. In three and a half short weeks, he'd be moving in with her. They'd officially begin traversing whatever the future held for them together. Hesitation had been clear in his posture, his drawn shoulders when (after plenty of convincing on her part that yes, she really, really, wanted him) he'd finally accepted the key to her place. But since he'd added it to his own keyring, he'd brightened. Strode a little taller. Walked a little prouder. Touched a little bolder. As though the weight he carried had lessened, at least by a couple cinder blocks' worth.

At his slight pout, she'd decided to find a way to involve him. He'd perched on the stool next to her, rested his cigarette in the pink ashtray to the left, and taken the proffered exhibit stickers with a quirked brow. Y/N had handed him papers, which he'd added labels to for her to write on. Then she'd stacked them in four different piles according to type. It had taken longer than usual - she was faster alone. But the intimacy of sharing the professional elements of her life with Arthur (besides the office wear he liked, claiming it showed how "smart" and "pretty" she was) had tightened her chest. And the curved-up corner of his thin lips had reflected how pleased he was, too.

They hadn't been able to collaborate on everything, however. It was past midnight by the time she'd joined Arthur, who had retreated to the bedroom an hour or so earlier. He'd been sitting against the headboard, half under the cover. The harsh blue light emanating from the old black and white TV at the foot of the bed had sharpened his features. Deepened the set of his eyes. He'd stubbed out his smoke as she closed the door. "I taped The Honeymoon Game. We can watch it when you're here again." A beat. "If you're not busy."

"This is supposed to be my last big project for a month or so." Sighing, she'd gotten her nightgown from her overnight bag. "I didn't mean for it to take all evening." She climbed in next to him and threw her arm across his lap. "I'm sorry."

He'd been stiff. Unyielding. The telltale signs he was miffed or upset. But he'd twined her hair around his finger, let his touch fall to her brow bone. "It's okay," he'd said lowly, adjusting to lie alongside her. "I don't want to be... I'm not being fair."

"You don't have to pretend with me, Arthur. It's all right to be annoyed." Tiredness had pulled at her as she'd fought to watch the rest of Gotham Tomorrow Tonight. The contact of his socked toes to her bare ones had made her smile, though, and she'd nuzzled his bicep. "I missed you," she'd mumbled, then promptly passed out.

The squeal of wheels on metal tracks prompted her to sling her canvas tote onto her shoulder. Shaw & Associates was a short sprint from the nearest station. She was certain she looked ridiculous, running down the street in her high heels. But she managed to slip into the office with two minutes to spare. Once she poured herself a cup of joe and straightened her blazer, she settled in her cushioned chair to get started.

It was only when Matt told her he wanted to meet before lunch that she'd rummaged in her bag. And realized she'd neglected to bring the file. Recalled it was sitting on Arthur's kitchen counter.

Fuck.

Her nails tapped the wood surface of her desk. Excusing herself to the bathroom so she could go retrieve it wouldn't fly. Matt would send a search party. She could try to discuss everything from memory, tell him documents were still being gathered. But he wasn't that oblivious. She settled on owning her error. "It's at home." Her delivery was nonchalant.

He waited until she'd loaded her typewriter with paper, then responded wryly. "You're not supposed to take files home anymore. Remember what happened last time?"

She leaned back as he stepped in front of her. "There was the slew of family cases that came in. With Patricia on leave, I'm handling all our calls and mail. Not to mention paperwork on her filings. It wouldn't have gotten finished if I hadn't taken it." Snorting, she shook her head at herself. Heat bloomed in her neck. "Not that it matters when I don't have it."

Expression softening, Matt stuck his hands in his pockets and jutted his chin at her. "How long did you work on it?"

It was hard to discern if he actually cared about the hours she put in. Or if he merely wanted to gauge the possibility of her doing investigations off the books again, something he'd explicitly prohibited. "I don't know." She waved dismissively. "Three or four hours?"

He let out a huff. "You put in enough time already. Go home at noon. We'll get to it first thing tomorrow."

"I have a lot to do." Her eyes widened at the myriad piles of folders laying around. "And I can't imagine you playing operator."

"I've managed when you've both been in court or at appointments. Besides," he continued as he headed back to his office. "You never take days off."

Straightening, she wheeled her chair to watch him plop down on his leather seat. "I'm taking three days next month," she countered.

His glare contained an unequal mix of mirth and consternation. "Y/N?"

The phone started ringing. She succeeded in making one ear ignore it. "Yes?"

"I know you haven't forgiven me for that whole Renew Corp. thing." She flinched at the casual mention of the company she loathed. Of her failure. But she forced herself to listen. Matt picked up a pen and started writing. “Rather than being stubborn, try saying, 'You're right.'"

~~~~~

Y/N stood in front of the narrow, white stove, stirring the soup she'd thrown together using bouillon, carrots, onions, and pasta. Ingredients she'd found in Arthur's kitchen. Music poured, at a respectable volume, from the radio on the windowsill. Swaying out-of-time, she added a sprinkling of black pepper, one of the only three spices he had (along with powdered garlic and salt). Wearing a content smirk, she sampled the steaming broth.

When she'd left the office, she'd been frustrated at herself. Yes, she was human. Everyone made mistakes. But she wasn't the forgetful type. Particularly if someone was depending on her. However, as she'd stopped in Burnley for another change of clothes, hopped on the train to Otisburg, and pictured Arthur's reaction to finding her in his home instead of having to call to wish her sweet dreams, her disposition had improved. Not only would he have her for an extra night. He'd get a late lunch, too.

The click of the deadbolt and clank of his keys on the entrance table came the second she turned off the stove. She listened to his heavy exhale as his bag dropped to the floor and shut the door. In her peripheral vision he froze, then approached tentatively. She reveled in his delicate hold on the dip of her waist, the peck he planted on her cheek. The smell of greasepaint wafted to her nose. "I hoped I hadn't made this up," he sighed with what sounded like relief. "But your meeting."

She angled herself towards him, gaze roving over his red and blue plaid blazer. The painted-on smile. His irresistible brown curls, mostly flattened by the wig he'd worn. Fidgeting with the petals of the squirting flower on his lapel, she scrunched up her face. "This morning went to shit." She explained the power outage, the clock, her own stupidity at leaving the file in his apartment. "I've packed it. Don't worry."

His posture grew pensive. "Sorry. Maybe- Maybe we should have stayed at your place. Your building's better."

Him thinking her error was somehow his fault had to be nipped in the bud. "No," she said. "You asked to make more memories here before we move in together. I'm happy to do that."

He paused, long enough she could have sworn she'd heard the gears in his head grinding. "Are you in trouble?"

Not unexpectedly, he had put together her mistake and her early dismissal from work and assumed the worst. "If I wasn't fired for trying to stop the Waynes, it's going to take more than an oversight to get me thrown out on my ass." Her brow furrowed. She sneaked a hand under his jacket and placed her palm on his chest. "I just hate that I wasted last night for nothing."

Soft lips, slightly sticky with red paint, grazed her temple. "It's okay," he said. "You're here now. And I got to help you."

The balm of his kindness loosened her rigid stance. His zeal to assist her, to ask questions, to learn about every aspect of her branded her heart completely. She leaned into him, kissed the squishy fold of skin under his chin, and nudged his ribs. "Food's ready. Go change. I want to hear all about your day."

Arthur emerged from the bathroom within minutes, clad in his worn, blue house pants and toweling his hair. Dimples were on constant display while they ate. The glint in his eyes was the one he usually had if his act or a job had gone particularly well, if he was pleased with himself. Was the one starting to be an almost weekly occurrence. Was the one that made his green eyes sparkle and caused her stomach to flip. He inched closer to her with every sentence.

The kids at the new children’s medical center had liked Carnival, he said. They hadn’t minded that he’d "filled in" for Gary. The magic tricks had all gone without a hitch, and the clinic had provided the balloons, which was a savings. The nurses and doctors had been nice; they’d even asked for his card. He’d had to provide a slip of paper with his address and telephone number instead. But he was sure he’d be invited to perform again. And he asked Y/N for help writing Gary a thank you note for the referral, claiming, “You’re better at that than me.”

“You’re the one who journals every day.” Her bowl and spoon clattered in the sink. “And your letter to me was beautiful. Just let me proofread it.”

Soon they were reclined on the sofa, sharing the flat pillow he’d used when he’d had no choice but to sleep there. The tape he’d recorded yesterday was playing. The Honeymoon Game had been a casual watch before, he’d explained. Not a nightly ritual like Murray. Given that he had a girlfriend and was a boyfriend himself, it had become fun to view.

She was only half-focused on the TV’s talking heads. Her mind was drifting to moving day, which filled her with gladness. She examined the plaid walls, the white cream color ceiling, the knick-knacks strewn about in the glow of the setting sun. The lantern with an owl hanging in the corner; the green, plastic drawers by the television; the curio cabinet... They were all a part of 8J, but assuredly not a part of him. How much would he be bringing with him, she wondered. And what would he be leaving behind?

“With one sugar and a shot of milk.” Arthur’s lively voice broke through her contemplation. Ah. He was reacting to the questions posed to the contestants, and making the answers about her, as he was wont to do.

She nestled back into the pleasant warmth of his firm frame. “Three sugars,” she replied, confirming she knew how he took his coffee. They continued to play along, with him showing off everything he’d memorized about her, and her replying with what she’d gathered about him.

Eventually, he shifted behind her. Raised himself on his elbow. “How did you know you loved me?”

Her hum was soft. Short. Possible responses were multitude. She’d suspected she could fall for him early on. When he’d wanted to repay her for doing what anyone should have done on the subway. And the first time he’d had the courage to call her after they’d split a slice of pie, his slight stammer revealing his nervousness. Maybe she’d say it was how slowly he’d drunken his wine during dinner, initially squinting as he sipped, his inexperience with alcohol obvious.

But she chose to go with what she believed was truest. What she assumed he’d hear most keenly. “Before we slept together, I hadn’t been with anyone for four years. And even then, it was different.” His hand splayed on her abdomen, thumb dragging along the waistband of her green leggings. A delightful ache flared in her center. “When I woke up, I felt perfect.”

“You felt like you were perfect?”

“No, silly,” she laughed, batting his forearm. “I knew I hadn't made a mistake. I reached out to your side, first thing - I’d thought of it that way, even then.” At the sensation of his hardening shaft against her rear, she giggled. “You’d made me so happy. You always do. I wanted to you to bed me again.”

The round tip of his nose skimmed her cheek, and she shivered at the dip of his fingers into her panties. “I want to again,” he rasped, paraphrasing her. The grind of his length was making her light-headed, and she twisted her torso to look at him. “I’ve been thinking about it.” Cheekbones glowing, he averted his eyes. “Ever since I woke up.”

“My monthly started,” she said regretfully. His descent halted, and a groan of frustration left him as he lowered his forehead to her shoulder. She mused. While he was becoming more apt to say what he desired, it happened rarely. But she loved it and didn’t want to discourage him from letting himself be assertive. Would he be offended by her suggestion? “I freshened up before we laid down. I have a tampon in. There are other things we can do.” She pressed her lips together, hoping she didn’t sound presumptuous. “If you’re comforta-“

“I’m comfortable.” His mouth quickly claimed hers, opening on a sigh. The tip of his tongue laved at the seam of her lips, and his messy enthusiasm made her whimper. Leaving a scorching trail in its wake, his hand traversed to her upper leg, gliding over the crease where her thigh and vulva met.

Shallow breaths caressed the nape of her neck, stoking the heat threatening to consume her. But the studio audience blaring from the television’s mono-speaker kept wresting her out of her haze. She snatched the VCR remote from the coffee table and hit the pause button.

The tease of his fingertips at her dark curls caused the peaks of her breasts to stiffen. She gasped as the rough fabric of her sweater dragged along them. His fore- and ring fingers spread her outer lips and she shuddered. The leisureliness of his fondling didn’t detract from its intoxicating effect.

Though it was a tad rough. “You’re kinda dry. Hold on.” Swiftly, he brought his hand to his mouth and wet his fingertips. Y/N blinked at him. It was clear he thought nothing of it, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, considering he’d confided he liked going down on her. Still. Seeing this normally reserved man improvise so he could pleasure her made her center throb with need.

Y/N was doing her damnedest to get her leggings and underwear down. Arthur snorted at her spirited, failed attempt at kicking them away. “It’s okay,” he chuckled, pushing them off her ankles with his foot. Then his touch fluttered at her swollen folds. She arched into him, already feeling as though she would burst. Bent at the knee, her leg lifted until her foot was flat on the couch cushion, allowing him easier access. He took advantage, sweeping forward and back along the rigid line of her engorged clitoral hood. She rolled towards him subtly, her moans getting louder with each tap to her sensitive nub.

Still holding himself up, he cradled her head. "Your sounds make me crazy," he said lowly. Once his hips started following hers, faintly rutting against the flesh of her backside, she closed her eyes. Hurriedly, she reached behind her to yank at his pajamas. "What?" he asked.

"I want to feel you," she whispered. There was a huff and some fumbling. And moments later his cock was settled at the cleft of her bottom. She bit her lip, savoring the weight of him. God, he felt wonderful.

His fingertips whispered over her clit, daring to follow the edge of her inner labia. She heard him gulp. "How does it feel when we're together? When- When I'm in you?"

"Warm. Full. Like you belong there," she replied with a smile. That last part of her response must have been unexpected, given that his grazes ceased and he trembled. "Don't stop," she whined, placing her hand on his. "Please, Arthur. You know just how to touch me."

Groaning, he started anew, deftly swiping quicker and quicker. The undulations of her pelvis hastened unevenly, begging both for release and for their coupling to last forever. She ran her palm up her torso, kneading her breast and plucking at her nipple. He nuzzled at her ear, grunting low in the back of his throat. Winding her fingers into his loose waves, she tugged lightly. Her belly twitched. Her whole frame tingled.

His skillful touch. The love they had for one another. The noises he was making in the crook of her shoulder. They all combined to throw her over the edge, and a wave of pleasure crashed through her. She cried his name brokenly, feeling empty without him inside her. But he kept holding her, guiding her through the crests of her climax. She was gasping, struggling to suck in air. Surely, she thought, he could detect the thundering of her heart against her ribs.

Gradually, the quivering grip she had on his locks eased. The kisses he planted on her neck were open-mouthed, desperate. And he hadn't halted the ardent movements of his hips. Y/N turned onto her other side. Gazing at him, she raked his curls out of his face, caressed his cheekbone with her knuckles. His look was hungry, darkened with need. The creases between his brows deepened as her hand trailed through the sparse dusting of hair on his chest.

There was a youthful charm to this situation, she considered. To them craving each other but not completely joining. It reminded her of being a teenager. When she'd been curious and horny, but nervous and not quite ready to go "all the way" with her ex. Being with Arthur allowed her to do all that again. To relive those experiences, to explore and make discoveries with him. To fall further in love with him daily.

She tenderly pecked the freckles at the top of his sternum, nestled against the notch above his clavicle. "I'm lucky to have you."

He didn't miss a beat, even as she trailed past the ticklish spots on his flank. "I'm luckier."

"I disagree." She outlined the slender muscles of his stomach, the v-lines leading to his cock. Played with the springy, brown curls at the base of him. "Without you, I'd only have my work. Which was enough before. But not now." After a moment, she concluded she was being sappy. She had to change it up. "And I wouldn't be having the best sex of my life."

Clearly flustered, he muffled his laugh. "Really?" His blush was prominent, his grin ecstatic.

"Really." Groans short and sudden, he rocked into her touch when she encircled his ample girth. Her fingers danced along his shaft, marveling at the contrast of his velvety skin with how hard he was. Pumping up and down, she tugged at him, trying to match the speed of his thrusts. He nudged his nose to hers, gazing at her before his hooded eyes flitted to watch what she was doing. Then she looked, too.

The sight of him fucking into her hand made her dizzy with want, even though he'd just gotten her off. The crimson, swollen head glistened, slick beading generously at the tip. Y/N licked her lips and spread it around him with the pad of her thumb. Moaning sharply, he bucked harder. Her motions quickened, flicking repeatedly at the notch on the underside.

Demand was implicit in the grasp he had on her upper arm. And it strengthened as his hips' stuttered, becoming unpredictable. Ragged pants hit her face. "I'm- I'm gonna make a mess.”

"It's all right," she soothed. Keeping ahold of him, she lay on her back. He followed and settled on top of her. Whimpering her name, he rubbed himself against her labia. But she gently pushed him onto his knees and continued palming him, her fingers teasing the ridge on his erection. It wouldn't take long to make him come. She could see it in the clench of his jaw, the tightening cords in his neck, his abrupt, needy cries...

Plunging forward, he held himself in place, grunting, clutching her urgently. His release hit her abdomen, warm and wet, and she gasped, her body curving up towards him. The feel of him spilling onto her couldn't completely distract her, though. Not from the beauty of his parted lips. Not from the relief that gradually spread across his features. Not from the slackening of his muscles as tension ebbed.

Sweat had gathered on his forehead. A droplet ran from the end of a dark brow to his jawline. Then he kissed her, his mouth groping at hers. "I love you," he said. He gave her one last peck and sat up on his knees. Holding onto the arm of the sofa, he retrieved her underwear from the floor and wiped her belly off. "That was fun." He tucked his chin bashfully.

"I concur." She entwined their hands and sat, then stretched as she pushed herself to stand and walk to the bathroom. The washcloth he'd designated as hers hung on the hook by the towels. She cleaned herself, listening as Arthur started the show again.

A new round of questions was just beginning. "When you and your spouse first met," the host started, "what was your first impression?"

Arthur's answer was instant. "Nice."

Y/N said the first thing that came to mind. "Handsome."

She popped her head out of the room to find him leaning on the entrance of the short corridor, beaming at her with hitched giggles. He was probably waiting for his turn to clean up. Like he normally did. But she couldn't stop herself from staring at him. Loving eyes met hers and his brows lifted expectantly. "Yes?"

Smiling, she wrung out the washcloth and put it back in its place. She stepped to him with a smile and smoothed his hair back. The rush of happiness in her soul, one she wasn't even sure she had, enamored her. Not only at what they'd shared on his old, scratchy sofa. But at Arthur being Arthur. At knowing soon she'd get to sleep next to him every night. Build a life with him, one she hadn't dreamed of even six months ago. Nothing she could say seemed adequate. So she went with a kind gesture, one she knew he'd appreciate. "I'll make us some decaf. And I love you, too."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @howdylilflower​ @sweet-nothings04​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @fallenstarsabyss​ @gruffle1​ @octopus-plasma​ @tsukiakarinobara​ @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​ @jokerownsmysoul​ @mrscarnival

[let-it-raines]

What a Wicked Game {12/15}

Killian met her in a pub on a rainy night in March. Going inside was only supposed to be a way for him to avoid the rain and fight off the demons in his head. It was a place for him to pass through, not stay. But then he was charmed by a blonde woman with a quick wit who had absolutely no interest in him or who he was.

That was a first. It was also the beginning of Emma Nolan helping to bring him back to life. It was the beginning of everything.

Five years later, with their worlds crumbling around them, Killian can’t help but wonder if this is the end of the peace they have known now that his family knows about his relationship. It wouldn’t be a problem if his father wasn’t the King of England.

rating: mature

a/n: thank you to the mods at @captainswanbigbang​ for running this event and helping to encourage writers to finish their wonderful stories, to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for reading all these words, and to @captainsjedi​ for making the beautiful artwork ❤️

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 

-/-

October 19th, 2018

October dawns bright and warm, but as it settles in, the warmth disappears into a chill and the brightness of the sky turns to the gray for which London is often known. Leaves are still in the midst of changing colors, from a dull green to vibrant oranges and reds that contrast the sky, and Emma finds herself staring out the large window in Killian’s bedroom to look at the leaves falling from a tree and drifting through the air until they eventually land on the edge of the roof. It’s been seven weeks since she slept in her own bed and had her parents just down the hall from her, and as weird as it’s been, she’s thankful for this.

She’s thankful that every day she is actively making the choice to be with Killian and to work at adjusting to all of the complications that come with this life.

It’s more than a lot, but as she looks down at her arm and sees it without the ugly white plaster and stretches her arms above her head without any pain, Emma reminds herself that time and a little extra care can heal things. The immediate reaction and pain doesn’t stay. It changes and lessens. Her body is healing, her heart too, and the darkness that surrounded her for all of August seems to have almost been extinguished.

Nothing about this has been easy, but Emma doesn’t want to retreat back and walk away again. She still believes that her reasons were sound, that she had to do it in order to take care of herself and protect her heart, and in a weird way, coming out on the other side has made her thankful for it.

Getting into a car crash and possibly almost dying because photographers wanted a picture of her sitting in a car after they found out about she and Killian’s breakup wasn’t great. She could have done without that. She still could. And she definitely won’t be getting in a car on a rainy night anytime soon.

Her physical scars may be lessening, most of them non-existent now, but she’s not ready for that. She’s not ready for a lot of things, but when has she ever been?

“Darling,” Killian calls out, and she gets a little smile on her face at how much his accent thickens on that word, “do you know where my solid navy tie is? It should be with all of the others, but I can’t find it.”

“Where did you last see it?”

“If I bloody well knew that, I wouldn’t be asking where it is.”

He pokes his head out of the bathroom before walking outside and finishing the buttons on his dress shirt. He looks handsome today in his navy pants and light blue dress shirt, and she really doesn’t see why he needs to wear a tie when he looks fine without it. Royal dress code or something. She doesn’t know. Over the past few weeks as she’s isolated herself in Killian’s apartment at Kensington or wandered over to Liam and Elsa’s to spend time with Elsa, she’s found herself going through guidebooks that Elsa had made when she got engaged to Liam. There are all these rules and regulations from how to cross your legs to what nail polish she’s supposed to wear, and while Emma thinks a lot of it is bullshit, it’s the territory that comes with being in this relationship.

Emma will paint her nails ballet slipper pink and cross her legs at the ankle every damn day if that’s what it takes. What she won’t do is be suffocated by the press and by Brennan.

What she won’t do is make Killian leave his family and break his mom’s heart simply because she couldn’t handle the pressure.

If he wants to leave, if it is truly his decision outside of her, she’s more than happy for them to live their lives in a simpler way where Killian doesn’t have to worry about where his solid navy tie is. Leaving may be in their future, but they’ll cross that bridge when they get to it.

But if they’re staying and doing this, she wants to make the best out of the situation. She wants to work with charities that help empower women and children. She wants to do that for men too, to educate them on the intricacies over an ever-changing world. She wants to do good and be good. This family is insane, the money and the traditions and the vault full of actual tiaras like something out of a movie, but they can use their privilege to do good.

Emma knows what it’s like to not have this kind of privilege, and now she may be in a position to help.

“Cool down, Casanova. No need to get all snippy over your tie. Where are you even going today?”

“The opening of a hospital wing and then I’m meeting with a slew of new security guards to interview.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Killian arches a brow. “Haven’t you spent enough time in hospitals lately?”

“I meant to the interviews, dumbass. Isn’t this for my security, too?”

Killian fidgets with the neck of his shirt, buttoning and then unbuttoning it so that black tufts of chest hair show. “Aye, but I figured I’d go through the candidates first, and then you could meet the top few to see which ones you’re most comfortable with.”

“I can come with you. It’s really not a big deal. I don’t have any plans for the day.”

“Swan, it’s fine. I promise.” Killian walks over to her and sits down on the edge of the bed next to her before taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth. “This is a dreadfully boring process, and my father is unfortunately going to be there for some of it, though I’ll likely leave the room when he does his own interviews. I don’t - after August, he’s convinced that I can’t pick out my own security team.”

“August was...I mean, he was selling information about us because his dad is sick and can’t afford the surgeries and medication back in America. He was willing to risk prison to save his dad. That’s not something you could have predicted.”

A part of Emma understands the words she’s telling Killian, but the other part of her wants to punch August’s fucking teeth out for making her life hell and inadvertently causing her crash.

“You’ve met Brennan. You know how he can be. I could do everything perfectly, but one screw up that’s outside of my control, and I’m incompetent.”

“Your dad sucks.”

Killian leans his head back with his laugh before leaning forward and pressing his lips to her knuckles once more. “In three words, you’ve managed to sum up quite a bit of my life.”

“I’m magical like that.”

“That you are, my love. That you are.” Killian sighs and blinks at her a few times. She thinks he’s going to say something to her, but then there’s a slight shake of his head and she knows the moment has passed. “Give me a little more time, and I swear I’ll talk to him. Seriously. He and I may never get along, but that’s okay. I simply need him to publicly accept you and to sign off on all of these protection measures for you.”

“Killian, you know you don’t have to do - ”

“No, I do. I will do everything I can to protect you, and if that means I have to have an actual conversation with my father where I don’t leave the room until I get what I want, I will. We’ve missed so much time not talking and not taking action. I don’t want to miss any more.”

Emma leans forward and presses her mouth to Killian’s cheek. “I love you. You should wear the white and navy striped tie instead of the solid one.”

He raises his hand to his forehead as he stands from the bed. “Aye, that’s a good idea.”

“And babe?”

“Yeah, love?”

“If Graham Humbert doesn’t make it to the final interview stage for security, Ruby and I will both be pissed at you. He’s who I want protecting me.”

“That doesn’t terrify me as much as it should.”

“Ruby will be vicious.”

“Eh.”

“I can withhold sex, and you just got that back.”

Killian mock gasps, placing his hand over his heart. “You’re a liar, Emma Nolan. I know you find me too attractive to ever do that.”

He catches the pillow she throws with annoying ease, and she hates him for it.

(Not really.)

After Killian leaves, Emma falls back into bed and thinks that she’ll spend her day watching Netflix or doing something else as equally lazy. What better way is there to spend her last day of being twenty-five?

None.

But that lasts approximately two episodes of a show before guilt nags at her, and she’s moving the covers off of her legs and standing from the bed with a frown etched on her lips and the idea that she needs to clean something. Cleaning is not at all her thing unless she’s working at the pub, but she’s been pretty much on vacation (if vacation included recovering from a car crash and having a million talks with your boyfriend over all of the problems in your relationship) for two months, and she’s probably genetically unable to not work for such long periods of time.

She’s in a literal palace, even if it’s nothing like any of the movies or shows, and instead of relaxing, she wants to clean up the spots Killian has let go over the past few weeks from not having a maid to aid him in his ridiculously specific cleaning rituals.

What even is her life?

She starts in the kitchen, going through Killian’s fridge and throwing out everything that’s expired or has gone bad, and she quickly moves on from that to vacuuming every rug and sweeping or dusting the places that get missed. It’s a lot, and if it wasn’t for the music that is playing over the system, she’d have quit hours ago. She’s about to quit now when she remembers just how messy Killian’s closet is because of her absolute inability to hang up her own clothes.

They’ve probably had more fights about that than, oh, you know, whether or not the actual King of England wants to behead her or not.

(Currently, they’re leaning more toward him wanting to lock her away in a dungeon so she can’t cause any more unintentional media frenzies. It’s apparently less dramatic than a beheading because at least she gets to live...this is a weird train of thought.)

Emma’s phone starts ringing, and she pulls it out of her pocket to answer as she walks up the stairs.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” David greets. “How are you feeling today? Old? Young? Like your life is over because you’re getting closer to late-twenties than early-twenties?”

“You are the most encouraging person alive.”

“I try.”

Emma chuckles and turns down the hallway to go into the bedroom, picking up her bra from where Killian must have tossed it last night and placing it in the hamper. “I’m fine. Killian’s at work opening a new hospital wing, apparently. I’m cleaning. How are you? What are you guys up to today?”

“I’m sorry. Did you say you were cleaning? Are we sure that you don’t have a concussion?”

“Your dad jokes are not good.”

“Every joke I’ve told since the day you were born has been a dad joke, and they’ve all been fabulous.”

She groans and walks into the closet before placing her phone on the table in the center of the room and putting it on speaker so she can do a little work before she loses momentum.

“I’m taking your dad joke privileges away, and to answer your question, I really am fine. I’m just messy, and Killian hasn’t had any of his usual staff in the apartment while I’ve been here. I think the whole August thing freaked him out so that he doesn’t trust anyone around me.”

“Someone close to him was selling information about you that harmed you. I’d be freaked out too. Hell, I am freaked out. If I wouldn’t get arrested for assault, I’d confront the guy.”

Everyone she loves wants to punch everyone who has hurt her, but they all stop themselves because of the fear of getting arrested for assault…she’s not sure if that’s flattering or concerning.

“What are you and Mom up to today?” she questions again, wanting to change the subject. She doesn’t want to talk about all of the shitty stuff that’s been happening to her lately. All she wants is to pick up all of her sweaters from the ground and figure out which ones need to be washed. Focusing on the bad is not how she’s going to move forward.

(And maybe not having to see August Booth’s face.)

“Your mom is downstairs with Will going over some possible menu changes, and I’ve been told I’m not allowed in the pub until I fix whatever is up with this toilet.”

“Ah, so you called me to procrastinate on doing that?”

“You know me so well.”

Emma fills in her dad on everything that’s been going on over the past few days. She tells him that her arm almost doesn’t feel weird anymore and that Ruby came over for dinner two nights again and brought Graham along with her. David is nearly as shocked by that as she was. This might be the longest relationship Ruby has ever had, and it’s good to see her so happy. It’s good that Emma likes Graham in that he’s dating her best friend and also might be protecting Emma’s life from now on if his next round of interviews goes well. In return, her dad gives her far too much information on the date he and her mom went on last night, and then he spends at least ten minutes talking about the difference in two brands of tomatoes.

All the while Emma has almost the entire closet (seriously, her dad talked for way too long and gave too much information about the date like he was talking to a friend and not his daughter) cleaned up. When she moves a pair of jeans that are on Killian’s side of the closet, she finds his solid blue navy tie he was searching for earlier.

“Ha,” she mumbles before reaching down to grab the tie.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says to her dad before tugging on the tie and pulling it up only for a small black box to roll out of it and tumble down onto the ground. “Holy shit.”

“Emma, are you okay?” David asks, but Emma barely hears him over the pounding of her heart. There might as well be an entire drumline in the room.

“Emma?”

“Y-yeah,” she lies even as her fingers tug so tightly on the tie that it might tear. “Hey, Dad? Has Killian talked to you about any...future type things?”

“What do you mean?”

Emma huffs and goes to pick up the box. They could be earrings, right? Or a necklace? Or another ring? She’s got a sapphire one she wears on her right hand. Killian has given her a ring before that wasn’t an engagement ring. That doesn’t mean what’s in this box is one. He buys her jewelry, and it’s not a big deal.

Except…

When the hell did he have time to get this?

How long has he had it? What made him decide to get it? When does he plan on using it? Does he still plan on using it after their breakup?

“You know what I mean. Has he - you know what,” Emma decides, placing the box on the table, “never mind. Don’t tell me anything. I think I’m going to have to call you back later.”

“Whatever you want,” David sighs, confused. “I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

And then the phone line disconnects and she’s left with nothing except for the sound of that damn drumline and the jewelry box that she doesn’t know what to do with. She’s not going to look. She can’t look. There’s no good that would come out of it.

She really wants to look.

Like, really.

“No,” Emma tells herself, grabbing the box off the table and moving to put it back where it must have been before it got tangled in her jeans and in the tie. She puts the tie back for good measure as well, and she’s absolutely going to bite her tongue on bragging about finding the tie when Killian gets home.

He wants to marry her.

She wants to marry him.

Maybe cleaning was worth something.

-/-

Killian comes home that night with grilled cheese sandwiches, which he hates, and onion rings from Ruby’s grandmother’s restaurant, and she doesn’t think she’s ever loved him more.

He tells her that Graham has moved onto the final selections even with Brennan’s hounding and worry over Graham not being trained in the same way as their usual security.

Emma knows that she wants him to be the one who’s hired. She’s not going to trust anyone else, not after everything that’s happened.

-/-

He doesn’t give her any kind of jewelry for her birthday the next day, and she knows what was in the box.

There’s no definite proof, but Emma knows.

Right now, where they are, she’s not ready to get married, but she will be someday. Probably soon. So if Killian were to ask her, she’d say yes over and over again, but the actual getting married part would have to be put on hold until her emotions, Killian’s too, were a little less chaotic.

Love is a really funny thing.

-/-

November 10th, 2018

The cool of the marble pebbles Emma’s skin as Killian helps guide her on top of the counter. His fingers inch over the back of her thighs and up behind her knees where she’s sensitive, and she giggles into his neck while trying to keep herself from bursting into hysterical laughter. Killian keeps the apartment so warm that she didn’t bother to put on anything more than her sleep shorts and a t-shirt last night before going to bed, and she’s regretting that now with every shift over her body over the countertop. But Killian is warm, especially when he steps in between her thighs and she hooks her ankles around his back right over his ass, and every touch of his fingers, gentle and teasing, brings a little more fire to her body.

Especially if he’d stop trying to tickle her while hotly running his tongue down the side of her throat and leaving open-mouthed kisses there.

He’s particularly good at those, and she could spend day after day close to him as he covers her body with affectionate words and delicate brushes of lips that turn into more.

Really, that’s been the last two months, even with her having to wear that atrocious cast for most of it, but they found simple ways to fix that. Being apart and not having those beautiful blue eyes to look into or that laugh to hear after a funny joke was absolutely torture, and having him back in her life, having him back as her person, is something Emma doesn’t ever want to take for granted again.

She will inevitably. It’s human nature. But she doesn’t want to.

Being with Killian is the easy thing. Fighting off the demons is what makes it difficult, but fighting off the demons and conquering them has made her realize that good things often come after struggles that seem impossible.

She’s a sentimental fool now, and she doesn’t care.

(Finding the engagement ring two weeks ago has made her even more sentimental.)

She especially doesn’t care as Killian’s tongue dips into her collarbone and his hands snake up underneath her shirt, warm palms against cool skin in a combination of which she’ll never tire. Emma knows that Killian is a sentimental fool now too. He was before, definitely more than her, but she can see all of the little ways he’s being more affectionate than he was before.

That’s saying something.

But his affection has been obvious lately. In the mornings, she always wakes to him curled around her, hand resting between her breasts and chin nuzzled into the back of her neck. That’s not how they sleep, not usually, so she knows that he does that when he wakes up in the morning while she’s still sleeping. He’s always touching her - hands intertwined, arm around her waist, ankles hooked together - like he’s looking for constant reassurance that she’s real.

That they’re real.

Killian has gone to war for her on multiple occasions, and she has seen the intensity and the fighting spirit that he possesses. She watched him break down over her accident and watched him absolutely vilify every single press association that was involved in that incident or any of the ones that have attacked her in the past or stolen private information from her. She’s watched him deal with the Neal interviews that seem to keep coming despite their falsities, and she’s watched him do absolutely everything that he can to protect her.

Emma never wanted protection or help. She thought that it made her weak to not be able to handle things on her own, but that was wrong.

All of it.

People are going to tell you who you are your whole life. You have to punch back and say “no, this is who I am.” If you want people to look at you differently, make them. If you want to change things, you’re going to have to go out there and change them yourself. Because there are no fairy godmothers in this world.

But there are supportive partners who punch back with you or stand to the side and cheer you on when you need it the most.

“I hate these bloody shorts,” Killian mumbles into her skin as the deep timbre of his voice vibrates down her spine. “I seem to both want you in them and out of them all at once.”

“That’s quite the conundrum you have going on, Jones.”

Killian chuckles before nipping at her jaw and pulling back so that she sees his eyes are blown black. “You are the conundrum, Nolan,” he softly says as his thumbs ghost over both of her nipples, slowly but surely bringing them to peaks. “It’s a funny thing. I seem to always want you. I want you in the mornings, at night, in the middle of the damn day…”

Emma hums while pleasure continues to curl between her thighs, and she wraps her arms loosely around his neck, playing with his hair and running the gemstone of her ring down the back of his neck. “Tell me more about this wanting me in the morning thing.”

The look on his face is positively dirty, and it’s exactly what she wants. So when his hands leave her breasts and move to take her shirt off, she stretches her arms in the air and allows him to undress her until the warm air of the heater is touching her skin. Killian shifts against her so that she can feel his length brushing against where she wants him, a perfect fit in a position that shouldn’t be comfortable, and she melts at his touch as the roughness of his unshaven scruff scratches against her neck and down her sternum to be between her breasts.

“You’re a damn temptress,” he mutters, voice deep and raspy with sleep still lingering. “I wake up and see the smoothness of your skin laid out before me, and my mind is only filled with thoughts of you. I’ve never wanted someone like this.”

“Funny thing, I feel the same way.”

“Do you now?” His fingers tug into her shorts and her underwear, and she lifts her hips as he pulls them down and off of her ankles so that she’s left bare before him, the marble chilling her skin has goosebumps pop up and spread over her.

“I do. Most definitely. You’re quite the catch.”

Killian laughs as he captures her lips, so soft and pliant and warm, with her own. There’s something to be said for kissing just for the sake of kissing, the feeling it sends through her body, and when Emma gently runs her tongue across his bottom lip, asking for entrance, he gladly grants it, tangling their tongues together in one of his favorite dances. She’s definitely picked a partner who knows what he’s doing.

Emma runs her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck and keeps her hand anchored there while the other runs up his spine, soft little taps of her fingertips against the bone underneath his shirt. They stay that way for awhile, lips moving together, until Emma’s hand leaves his hair to move underneath his shirt as well, pulling up at the material until he pulls back and tugs it over his head.

“I feel like we’re on a little bit more equal footing now. You were wearing too many clothes.”

“Was I? I hadn’t noticed. I was a little bit distracted by how unsanitary it’s going to be for us to fuck in the kitchen.”

“That’s literally never stopped you before.”

He huffs and leans forward to kiss her, slow and so impossibly thorough that she feels it all the way down to her toes. “I know,” he grins. “Are you okay up there, or do you want to move upstairs?”

“As long as you don’t hit my head into a cabinet, I’m fine.”

“You’re so beautiful, my love,” he whispers against her skin, kissing the tops of her breasts as her eyelids flutter closed and she recovers from the whiplash in the change of his tone. “I remember the first time I saw you, Emma,” he speaks into her skin as his nose drags along her stomach and arousal tugs at her belly. “You were – are so bloody gorgeous, the curls of your ponytail framing your face and the dark of your eyelashes looking down at me as you told me to get my soggy ass out of the booth.”

“I didn’t say that,” she protests, running her hand through the hair and tugging him down closer to where she’s desperately aching for her.

There’s something about the night that they met that Killian always thinks about. It’s a frequent remembrance, this conversation one they’ve had before, and Emma knows that in moments where Killian is nostalgic, where he’s thinking about how much she means to him, his mind goes back to that night and piecing together all of the circumstances for their meeting.

She doesn’t care how it happened. Just that it did.

No one was ever supposed to love her or treasure her like this. This wasn’t supposed to be how it is for her. She wasn’t supposed to get the good guy. It wasn’t in the cards.

Life has apparently decided to deal her a new hand altogether.

“But you were thinking it,” he whispers against skin, lips pressing against her small tattoo and lingering there. She thought getting that might be a mistake, that the desperation was too much, but over the past few weeks, Killian has held onto it like a glimmer of hope. She did the same. “You looked so frustrated with me, like how dare I walk into your pub in order to get out of the rain.”

“Shameful, really,” she teases, and when she opens her mouth to say something else, she can’t, her throat suddenly too tight to speak while the entirety of the English language escapes from her brain.

Killian’s hands hook around the back of her knees, and this time there’s no playful teasing. Instead, he spreads her legs further apart and bends down to his own knees. She’s about to make a joke about him not hurting himself, a tease over his twenty-ninth birthday last month and how dramatic he was over being nearly thirty, but then he’s kissing her exactly where she wants him, where she needs him.

His tongue drags roughly against her like a perfected routine, and Emma’s eyes tighten. She can’t bear to open them, but then she does and sees the dark mess of hair between the paleness of her thighs. Even more than that, she sees the blue of his eyes under the hood of his eyelid, and she wonders if today is going to be the day that this is all too much for her.

Never.

Killian shifts underneath her, his right hand leaving the curve of her knee to join with his tongue as he kisses her and kisses her and kisses her. Moans filter between them, hers and his, and the tension could be cut with one of the knives that’s in the drawer beneath her ass. It’s all too much - too much pleasure and want and love - and when he slips two fingers into her and curls them, she gasps out his name as a chant that never seems to stop.

“Magnificent,” he mumbles, the sound of his voice like liquid fire in her veins. “Bloody magnificent. Your noises, my darling. Fuck.”

There’s something about knowing that Killian is as affected by things like this as she is, even if he’s the one giving all of the pleasure, and that with the combination of his mouth moving over her bundle of nerves and his fingers moving within her as her falling apart little by little, like the waves cresting onto the shore.

Damn.

Killian presses a kiss to where she’s still fluttering before moving to her thigh, light touches that are nothing more than a blink, a whisper. When he rises from the ground, he grunts, probably from having his knees pressed into hardwood for so long, but she doesn’t think about that for too long when she can feel him hard against her and pressing into her thigh. “Mmm,” Emma hums, pulling herself up and tugging Killian closer to her so that she buries her face in his neck, kissing the straining cord. “You are wonderful.” “Ah, well, that tends to be your reaction after we do something like that.” “Are you fishing for compliments?” “Never.” She chuckles while he does the same, and even without looking, she knows that his eyes are crinkled, joy written across his face.

“Do you want to move upstairs or…”

“Upstairs. Definitely upstairs.”

They move quickly, neither of them in the mood to wait, and while it would have been faster to move to the couch in the living room, this is better. Killian falls back to the bed with laughter on his lips, and Emma immediately hooks her thumbs into his sweats and pulls them down as much as she can before he lifts his hips off the bed to help her out, kicking them off his ankles and onto the floor while she is busy kissing up his thigh, her hand running up his length, feeling the warm hardness in her palms.

“Emma,” Killian moans, voice gruntled. She smirks into his thigh and keeps her hand on his length.

“I am romancing you, Killian,” she promises against his lightning bolt scar before crawling up his body, peppering open mouthed kisses against the trail of his chest hair until she’s leaning over his mouth, her folds teasing him at their hips. “Like you do to me.”

“Darling - ”

“Your eyes, even blown black with desire like they are right now,” she whispers, circling her hips above him to lightly grind down, “are the most gorgeous blue I’ve ever seen.”

She touches his face then, running her fingers over his jaw. “I love your stubble, how it’s black with a little bit of red peppered in, and I love when you don’t shave for a few days and it’s full and just the right mix of soft and prickly. I love the way it feels when you rub it against my cheek in the mornings when you’re waking me up or how it feels against the inside of my thighs.”

She kisses his jaw, running her tongue behind her lips, and the grunt Killian makes curls as little bursts of fire down her spine.

“I love,” she says, running her hands down his biceps as she sits on his lap, right below where she knows he wants her, “the strength of your arms when you hold me, no matter what the occasion. And I love,” she moves her hands through the hair at his chest as Killian twitches beneath her touch, “this hair and how it pokes through the top of all of your shirts. I love the ways that your eyes crinkle when you’re truly smiling.”

I love that you love me enough to want to marry me, she thinks to herself before saying. “I love that you fight for me every day no matter the circumstances.”

She rises on her legs and scoots forward, guiding him to her entrance before slowly, slowly, slowly sinking down onto him. It’s a perfect fit. Maybe not physically, but emotionally, and Killian’s hands grapple for her hips, nails digging into skin. She doesn’t think he’s ever been this quiet for such a long period of time during sex.

“And mostly, at least for our purposes right now, what I love is the feeling of you inside me, thick and full and perfect.”

At that, she starts to move, rolling her hips against him, and it feels so goddamn good that her brief stint as the verbose one in the relationship has ended and Killian is the one to start muttering words of encouragement and curses that would have anyone blushing. She sets a slow, unhurried pace that she knows will draw out pleasure, but Killian doesn’t let her do that for long before he takes control of their movements, speeding up the pace as he thrusts up into her. She lets out a whimper as he hits the exact right spot, and Killian captures the next one with his mouth, kissing her like a man starved of affection and like it’s not ten in the morning.

Suddenly, Killian grabs her hips and rolls them over to change their position, his body encasing hers. He mutters a “bloody fuck” when she clenches her thighs to try to keep him from slipping out, and Emma throws her head back with laughter even if she shouldn’t.

Killian nips at her neck, but she can feel his smile too.

He must be able to tell that she’s getting close, rising higher and higher to her peak, because he releases her hips to grab her wrists, sliding his hands until their fingers are interlaced above her head. He tilts his hips so that his thrusts catch her clit.  Her breath hitches and her legs wrap around his backside, and Emma might actually melt. She thinks that she has. Her limbs are all jelly, and Killian isn’t much better above her.

This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

There are a million things they should probably do today, but they never seem to move away from bed besides getting food from the kitchen. That’s what she’d been trying to do this morning when Killian distracted her, but she’s not going to complain. This is good and nice and Emma could wrap herself in these blankets and in Killian for the rest of time.

When she wakes later, it’s to the slap of a hand to her skin, and Emma immediately flinches and jolts up, blinking into the darkness.

“Ow, shit, Killian. What was that for?”

“I was just making sure you’re here,” he mumbles, voice groggy.

“By slapping me?”

“Killian,” a voice says, and Emma realizes that Killian is on the phone. He might not even realize he’s on the phone. “Killian are you there? “Killian, have you heard a single word I’ve said?”

Liam. He’s talking to Liam.

Holy shit. Why is Liam calling him in the middle of the night?

“I’ll be honest, no. I’m still mostly asleep.”

“Asleep my ass,” Emma mumbles before reaching over to put the call on speaker phone so she doesn’t have to keep straining her ears to hear him. Killian grumbles something, but she ignores him as she settles herself underneath his arm. “Liam, what’s wrong? Is everyone okay?”

“Elsa is in labor, and we sent all of our nannies home for the night. Can the two of you watch Alex for us?”

“Of course,” Emma sighs. “Bring him over when you guys leave, okay?”

“I will, lass. Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem,” Killian promises, finally waking up. “Congratulations, brother.” At that, the line goes dead, and Emma immediately moves to get out of bed only for Killian tugs her back into him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Emma raises a brow and motions down to the distinct lack of clothes on both of their bodies. “I know Alex is about to have a sibling, which is definite proof of his parents having sex, but I don’t want to be the one to have to explain why his uncle was having a naked sleepover with me.”

“Really? You don’t want to explain sex to a toddler? Shocker.”

She huffs and leans forward to brush her lips over his forehead. “Congratulations on being an uncle again, babe.”

Emma hears his swallow as his head nods up and down in affirmation. “Thanks, love. Let’s go put on some clothes so we don’t scar the lad.”

-/-

-/-

The next chapter is technically the last official chapter. How is that even possible? Thank you all for coming along for this ride ❤️

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