#so stupid that this is how i draw my first kiss in like three years

[asanjou]

giramie week day 3: spiderwebs/bug bites(?)

kingchan cameo!

[luvsellie]

MASC ON [e. williams]

pairing high school au!ellie x fem!reader

summary being the new girl in school meant walking in to projects smack-dab in the middle of the year. but when you get assigned to work with the masc girl who sits next to you, there’s no hiding your blatant attraction toward her…and maybe she can’t hide her’s either.

warnings ellie and reader are 18 here (seniors in high school) !! kissing, pining (this is literally just fluff and i wanted an excuse to write for flashback el)

wc 3.9k

note this is incredibly self-indulgent and took me an embarrassing long amount of time to actually write i apologize (title inspiration from the song mask off by future)

“this is so stupid.”

ellie’s complaint compelled you to roll your eyes, a redundant sigh escaping you. “i heard you the last three times you said it.”

your deskmate slumped against the side of her bed, nimble fingers fidgeting with a slightly chewed pen as she watched you create a rough outline of the halle comet on a large poster board—she thought it was more entertaining than trying to gather the essential information your teacher had required to be provided. you could feel her eyes observing every flick and stroke of your pencil as you struggled to copy the image from your laptop.

the task had deemed itself to be more complicated than you thought, and after one more final attempt, you tossed the writing utensil to the side in frustration. “this is so stupid.”

snorting at your disgruntled attitude, ellie reached for the pencil. “how about this; i’ll draw and you get the stats. i’m dying of boredom over here.” she shuffled closer before you could object, shoving her textbook your way.

not bothering to argue, you grabbed your backpack and started to sift through the supplies you had brought along to her house. markers, pens, pencils, scissors, binder…

removing your binder from your bag you flipped it open, only to be met with other assignments and notes from varying classes. groaning, you said over a shoulder, “ellie do you have notebook paper?”

“yeah—top drawer of my desk,” she answered without looking in your direction, her short hair falling to cover the side of her face.

nodding to yourself, you shoved your things back in your bag and stood, making your way toward her desk. it was rather cluttered, which didn’t shock you in the least, but still organized in probably a way only ellie would understand.

you grabbed the first drawer’s handle and gently pulled, exposing the mess that was inside. grumbling to yourself about how ellie couldn’t possibly be able to find anything in this chaos, you began to poke through her things. managing to spot a spare journal—which you noted was not looseleaf paper like you had asked—you carefully maneuvered the notebook out from underneath all of her art supplies.

hip-thrusting the drawer shut, you flipped the journal open, eager to get on with the research you did not want to do, simply to get this project over with. but as you overturned lined pages, you came to realize this was a sketchbook—and you were the starring subject.

“ellie,” you called, eyes trained on a drawing of you slumped over a book in the school library (you recalled this day rather vividly).

the auburn-haired girl finally looked up from her spot on the carpeted floor. she quickly realized what was in your hands. “shit,” she couldn’t help but mutter in panic. ellie rushed to her feet, already reaching to take the sketchbook from you. “sorry, you weren’t supposed to-”

you said her name again, interrupting her explanation with “you would’ve saved me a lot of time had you been the one to draw that ridiculous comet from the get-go.”

ellie’s arm fell to her side, and she tried to calm her racing heart with a deep inhale. she scratched the back of her neck sheepishly, invisible strings tugging on the corners of her mouth when she realized you weren’t pissed at her. “yeah, i guess you’re right.” she paused before adding, “you’re a really shitty artist.”

your eyes flickered to hers immediately, and you snapped the journal shut before smacking her left upper arm with it. “hey! i tried my best, okay? we can’t all be as talented as you.”

“got that right,” ellie mused, her familiar easygoingness making a return. she stuck a hand out. “can i please have my sketchbook back?”

you kissed the back of your teeth, giving her a look of contemplation as you hugged the object in your hand a little closer to your chest. “mm, i don’t know. i was thinking about going through it some more. i mean, i barely got to see anything.”

ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “seriously?”

“seriously,” you told her with a nod, taking a step closer to the desk behind you.

her hand dropped, and you swore that something flashed across her face, but before you could identify what it had disappeared. maybe i’m pushing it, you thought suddenly, growing aware of the way you were holding onto something that she probably poured her heart and soul into.

across from you, ellie adjusted her stance before shrugging. “alright. have fun, i guess. i just need it back tomorrow by 6th period.”

you blinked at her words, dumbfounded by her compliance. watching her return to the poster board on the floor, you held the little journal closer, already making note of what you would be doing later when you returned home.

ellie liked to draw you. she supposed it was rather obvious, but seeing the way your eyes widened as you observed her drawings made her second guess. had she really not been that apparent? she guessed not. and while she was excited to let you take her sketchbook home, she was more nervous.

it was very hard to sleep that night, and only when the small illuminated numbers on her alarm clock struck two a.m. did she finally manage to doze off.

“you look a little…rough,” dina said, cringing at her own word choice.

ellie ran a hand through her hair as she walked beside the shorter girl. “thanks. i hadn’t noticed.”

dina ignored the jab. “i can’t believe you actually gave it to her. hell, you never even let me touch that thing…and you’ve only known her for, like, two weeks! i am feeling a little betrayed, but it’s whatever.”

“letting her look at it just…felt right? i don’t know how to explain it. she doesn’t seem like someone who’d become suddenly disgusted by me drawing her way before we ever started talking,” ellie confessed, spotting the door to her earth and space class.

“ouch.” dina grabbed ellie’s arm, pulling her to an empty wall. “first of all, i wouldn’t be disgusted by you if i was her. secondly, stop being nervous. there’s no need for all of that.”

“i’m not nervous,” she objected immediately.

the brown-eyed girl stared blankly at her. “yes, you are. you’re more fidgety than normal. just go in there, sit down, and wait for her to walk in. you said she normally gets to class practically right before the bell rings?”

“yeah, she comes from the other side of the building.”

“perfect! now go.” dina shoved her friend in the direction of the classroom, waving her off with a smile.

sighing through her nose, ellie entered the room, greeted her teacher, and visibly sagged when she noticed you weren’t in your seat yet. there’s still some time, she thought to herself, not realizing that you had walked in behind her until you said: 

“hey, el, you’re kinda in the way.”

you watched as ellie turned to face you, her eyes wide as she whirled. “you got here fast,” she stated bluntly.

shrugging, you moved past her to walk toward your desk. as you sat you said, “class was in the library today since they were using our room for testing.”

ellie nodded from in front of you, still standing. you noticed how aloof she was acting. “are you gonna sit?” you asked, gesturing to the desk beside you.

“yes,” she said hastily, pulling back her chair. she landed with a thud. slouching against the back of her seat, she looked at you and continued, “you brought the poster in, right? this morning?”

your mouth pressed into a thin line. “yes, ellie, i brought the poster in. but we’re not presenting today anyway, so had i forgotten, we’d still be okay.”

“god, that is such a relief,” she sighed, leaning her head back to stare at the speckled tile ceiling and roll her tense shoulders.

“agreed,” you breathed while hauling your bag into your lap. unzipping it, you pulled out the familiar brown journal. “here. back to you before 6th period. just like you said.”

ellie took her notebook cautiously, setting it on her desk as she glanced at you.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked skeptically, lowering your voice to a whisper as your teacher started class at the front of the room. “if you didn’t want me to take it then why did you give it to me in the first place?”

the girl beside you shook her head, leaning her body closer. you stared at the outline of her tattoo as she said, “i wanted you to take it. i’m just nervous that you look at me differently now.” 

your eyebrows shot upward, both taken back and confused by her answer. “why would i even-” you turned to face her. “ellie, i don’t look at you ‘differently’ because you draw me. i think it’s rather sweet, actually.”

ellie was bewildered by your words, recalling what dina had said earlier about how she would have loved it if she were drawing her. maybe she had been right. licking her chapped lips, she shifted in her seat, as if she were going to say something, but snapped her head to the front when the teacher said her name sternly.

“miss williams i need you to pay attention, please. this has to do with the project, and i will not be happy when you decide to ask me something i already explained to the class,” the man up front lectured, making both you and ellie sit a little straighter in your seats.

you sent ellie an apologetic look when she glimpsed in your direction. as your teacher moved on from his scolding, you grabbed her sketchbook from her desk and flipped it open to a clean page, pen in hand.

meet me at my locker after school? you wrote quickly, pushing it over for her to see.

ellie grabbed the writing utensil you gave her. i have basketball practice after school :(

frowning, you exaggerated a sigh, shooting a playful eye roll her way as you scribbled out a reply. then i’ll come by the locker room after practice. there—problem solved.

problem solved. ellie wrote back with a grin, nodding at your solution.

“i am incredibly stupid. what was i even thinking?”

jesse was quick to shoot down your self-loathing, his shoulder brushing up against yours as he walked you in the direction of the girl's locker room. “no, you’re not. you were bold. there’s a difference.”

you pressed your lips into a thin line, cheeks slightly puffing out before you kissed the back of your teeth. anxiously running a hand over your face, you said, “well…is there really?”

“yes,” your friend quipped.

rolling your eyes, you shoved jesse jokingly as someone came walking out of the locker room. you instantly recognized dina in her cheerleading outfit, a knowing smile making its way onto your lips. the girl from your history class had always been super friendly.

“dina!” you called, earning a low groan from jesse.

the cheerleader grinned immediately, though you recognized its falter when she spotted her ex by your side. “hey! what’re you doing in the athletic building?” she made a show of not acknowledging jesse.

“i’m here for ellie!” you told her with a toothy smile, fidgeting with the straps of your backpack.

dina’s eyes widened with realization, but her bubbly appearance didn’t feign. she pointed a thumb toward the door she had come out of. “oh! she’s the last one still in the locker room, which i suppose you might’ve already known?”

shaking your head, you said, “yeah, i told her i’d meet her after basketball practice had finished.”

“well don’t let me keep you here then,” dina exclaimed, stepping out of the way to the door with the tiny woman’s symbol on it.

you nodded as you stepped past her, only looking over your shoulder to say, “i’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

“yep!” dina confirmed.

jesse shot you a reassuring grin as you disappeared into the dimly lit hallway that hosted the coaches’ offices.

heart beginning to race, you pulled the door handle to the locker room and forced your legs to move. the fluorescent lights were harsh against your eyes, your chest constricting with nerves as you walked past bathroom stalls, sinks, and floor-length mirrors. you couldn't remember the last time you had been in a locker room.

finally coming up on the athletic lockers (they were on a completely separate wall from the regular physical education lockers), you started to hear shuffling.

“ellie?” you called out, trying your best to not sound like you wanted to abandon this idea entirely.

as you passed a few more of the athletic cages, you spotted the girl you were searching for. her lack of a shirt made you balk.

turned toward the lockers, ellie passed a towel through her wet hair, arms tense with movement. you admired the taunt muscles of her back, her damp skin littered with small, but visible, freckles.

she hadn’t noticed your presence.

you cleared your throat promptly, offering her a smile when she turned around. trying not to be distracted by her toned arms and abdomen, you said, “hi ellie. hope i didn’t catch you at a bad time?”

she shook her head, mouth curling into something between a genuine grin and a satisfied smirk. “hey…and no, you caught me at a really good time, actually. practice ended about 45 minutes ago.”

nodding, you took a few steps closer. “yeah, i know. i asked a friend when practices normally end. figured me being a little ‘late’ would benefit. didn’t want to catch you before you had time to shower.”

“ouch,” she said, reaching to grab for her dirty practice t-shirt in her locker. ellie looked over her shoulder as you halted.

something about the way her eyes glinted made you deadpan, “if you throw that at me i will turn around and leave right now.”

chuckling to herself, ellie shook her head. “calm down, i’m not throwing anything at anyone.” she dramatically put the shirt and a pair of folded athletic shorts in a drawstring backpack before shoving it back into the locker.

“you are so annoying,” you snapped at her, moving to sit on the wooden bench placed directly in the middle nook of lockers. as you sat, you caught a whiff of sharp mahogany and cheap cologne.

ellie’s eyebrows raised, her shoulders leaning to press against the cool metal behind her. “and yet here you are, going out of your way to meet me in the back of the locker room after school.”

part of you was certain she made emphasis on the phrase ‘back of the locker room.’

shooting her a glare, though, you straightened as you said, “i said you were annoying, not that i didn’t like you.” there was a pregnant silence before you added, “besides, i wanted to ask if you wanted to go get coffee with me.” you watched ellie’s lips pull back in disgust, your heart dropping in an instant. “or not. sorry, i didn’t-”

“how about we go get dinner instead?” she interrupted. “coffee’s disgusting and i’m starving.”

blinking at her words, you licked your lips. “yeah. yes. that works.” it took you a moment to regain your composure. shit, i almost blew that. “i didn’t know you hated coffee.”

ellie turned and grabbed a hair tie. as she put half of her hair up—somehow in the most attractive way you might add—she said, “oh, yeah. that shit is gross.”

“um, have you even tried it?” you asked doubtfully, mouth forming into a frown. when the auburn-haired girl stayed quiet and instead clasped a thin silver chain around her neck you guessed her answer was clean no. 

you scoffed as you nudged her sock-covered foot. “i’m going to force you to try mine the next time i bring some.”

“sounds great,” ellie said sarcastically, a grin tugging on her lips. her smile sent chills sprawling down your spine.

shrugging off your backpack, you set it by your feet, muttering out a barely audible, “fuck.” you had no idea where this conversation was going, and your attempt at asking her out on a date had been a bust…sort of?

ellie had declined coffee and suggested dinner, but it still sounded like it fit more under the category of  ‘hangout as friends.’ talking to her was sometimes like talking to a brick wall. masc’s are so fucking clueless, you thought, releasing a heavy sigh through your nose. or maybe i’m not being obvious enough?

“what?” she asked at your suddenly agitated (as she’d describe it) attitude, wetting her chapped lips as she went to sit next to you. lifting a leg over the bench, she sat, body facing yours as she man-spreaded for comfort—her proximity and stature reminded you that she was still very much shirtless…and somehow way better at this (you weren’t sure what this even entitled) than you were.

goosebumps spread across the skin of your upper arms. you shifted, pulling up a knee to rest on the wood as you trailed off, eyes avoiding hers, “you’re just so…”

her head tilted, eyes narrowing as she leaned closer. there was no way she didn’t notice the way you sucked in a breath. “i’m so what? look at me when you talk,” she said.

your gaze snapped toward hers, but first flickered to the swell of her mouth.

“i’m so what?” she repeated, her voice lowering an octave. when you said nothing, she added, “cat got your tongue?”

between her teasing and the adrenaline coursing through your body, you were compelled to do the only thing you could think of to shut her up—to make her drop the questions. swallowing the lump building in your throat, you grabbed her face, thumbs pressing against her warm cheeks, and kissed her with unmistakable want.

although ellie hadn’t expected for you to be so physically direct, she did not mind it at all. following the rough pace you had set, she kissed you back with just as much ferocity, her fingers slipping into the belt loops of your jeans to slide herself forward and you closer.

you mewled at her movement, the pressure between your thighs growing as intensely as you were kissing her. she was quick to regain control of the situation you had thrust upon her.

“ellie,” you mumbled against her mouth, your eyes half-shut as she tugged on your jeans a second time.

“come here,” she told you hastily, lips trailing toward your left ear. “sit on my lap.” she kissed your temple. “please.”

shuddering at her request, you wasted no time in pulling away, pushing yourself off the bench, and situating your legs over hers in a straddle position.

the heat from ellie’s skin seeped through the fabric of your shirt, her hands slipping past the hem. you found yourself arching instinctively to her venturing touch, your stomach twisting into tight knots.

“you are going to make me go insane,” she confessed, her words coming out in a whisper, leaning in to kiss you again. her lips were gentler against yours, eager to savor the moment.

in turn, you indulged in letting your palms trace the sculpted muscles of her arms, fingers trailing every dip and curve from her years of work in the weight room. “you are so beautiful,” you told her delicately, relishing the way her skin burned under yours.

ellie followed the compliment, her hands finding your face and forcing you to look at her. green eyes etched with something between lust and admiration, she thumbed a corner of your mouth. “do you have any idea what you do to me?” she whispered. “from the moment you walked into that classroom…”

her words died in her throat and she swallowed thickly as you shook your head. “don’t do that. not here.”

“do what?” she questioned, adjusting her position on the bench.

the friction between your legs forced you to release a shaky breath, and you licked your lips in an attempt to focus on bringing your thoughts into coherent sentences. she was making it extremely hard. “i want to talk about this over dinner,” you told her hoarsely. “about what we are now. about what you want us to be.”

“are you saying you want to go on a date?” she asked quietly.

you couldn’t help your sudden smile. “i asked you earlier when i mentioned coffee, but you instantly shut that idea down.”

ellie rolled her eyes, though you could sense her pang of guilt. “you weren’t very clear on the date part. otherwise, i would’ve said yes immediately.”

surprise feigned your features. “you? saying yes to a coffee date?”

“oh, ha-ha.” she exaggerated the fake laugh. “and yes, had i known you were asking me out i would've sacrificed my comfort for your enjoyment. honestly, i think i do that quite often—as of right now i think my tailbone is being bruised.”

you sucked in harshly, moving off her with urgency as you shoved her shoulder with a hand. “why didn’t you say anything?!”

“and risk not feeling you up? yeah, no thanks.” her tone was definite.

your jaw fell slack as you crossed your arms over your chest, confounded by her response. “you can still feel me up without me in your lap, dummy.”

“yeah, but that sounds less fun,” ellie teased, holding up her hands in defense. she stood from her seat, reaching around you to grab her baseball t-shirt from earlier. as she put her arms through the sleeves she said, “i have a game tomorrow. you should come watch.”

you scrunched your nose jokingly, deciding to use her words against her. “and see you all sweaty? yeah, no thanks.”

ellie straightened out her shirt, shooting you a rather bemused look in the process. “how do you know you won’t like seeing me all sweaty and worn out?”

as she hunched down to pull on her converse, you exhaled heavily, unable to come up with something witty. mainly because she was right. you would totally like to see her all sweaty and worn out. so, with a slight bruise to your ego, you itched your nape, mumbling out, “i never said i wouldn’t like that. you always assume shit about me.”

“and you always assume shit about me, so we’re even,” ellie shot back, standing back up. she grabbed her backpack from inside the locker before changing the subject. “where do you wanna go for dinner?”

you shrugged, reaching down for your own bag. swinging it over a should, you said, “i don’t know. whatever you want. and you’re right, i do assume shit about you. like right now, for instance, i’m assuming you’re a picky eater.”

“i am not a picky eater.” she shut down your claim with a light kick to your shoe. “and fine, i’ll pick something and surprise you. did you drive to school today?”

you shook your head. “no.”

“great, looks like you’re sticking with me then.” she tried and failed to hide her cheeky smile. closing her locker, she grabbed your hand, hastily leading you toward the main hallway of the locker room. “come on.”

trailing after her, you felt your cheeks heat with the prompt realization of your reality. maybe you’d have to thank your earth and space teacher for assigning that stupid comet project. the steady growth of your relationship with ellie made your insides twist with pure excitement, and as she rambled about how much you would enjoy her restaurant of choice, you couldn't help but succumb to the feeling of pure bliss.

[kinardsevan]

as we all know, i haven't really been doing @bucktommypositivityweek because I've been busy working on other stuff. but I still wanted to contribute, and I was feeling inspired reading people's additions for 'outsider perspective'. this was also a character study for one of my OCs.

so have this: -

colors

Wilder Gray was born to be an artist. Color was quite literally in his name. He was also gay fresh out of the womb, and god bless the fact that his parents had accepted that from day one, because otherwise he never would’ve stood a chance. 

Life had been easy for him, mostly. He came from enough money that his parents sent him to semi-private school for he better part of his upbringing. When they’d discovered his ability to draw and paint towards the end of elementary school, he’d been promptly enrolled in the Los Angeles Academy of Arts and Enterprise for intermediate school. Growing up in that kind of environment had fed his need to create as well as be surrounded by other creatives. It also fostered a very accepting community where he never felt out of place or like he couldn’t be exactly who he was. By the time he was in his twenties, enrolled in UCLA, he’d had several serious relationships. 

He met one Thomas Kinard at the age of twenty-five, fresh out of his graduate program with an MFA in interdisciplinary arts. Tommy was just about to turn thirty-three and had looked extremely uncomfortable in his skin as he sat down at a gay bar in WeHo. It would be weeks before Tommy would admit to him that he was freshly out of the closet, and that up until a few months before, the most he’d ever engaged with the community was through one night stands and the boy he had shared a secret relationship with during his five and a half years in the military. 

To be clear, Tommy had rocked Wilder’s universe on its axis. When they first met, Wilder wanted nothing to do with a relationship with him. he knew Tommy was still figuring out his footing with his sexuality now that he was out, and as much as Wilder was willing to be a friend through that process, he didn’t want to play the part of the boyfriend who helped Tommy experiment and get educated. 

Which isn’t to say it panned out the greatest for him. He watched Tommy engage in multiple relationships over the next three years, and he was jealous as fuck every single time. He hated Mike, the forty-five-year-old man that Tommy met a few weeks after Wilder had met him. That relationship lasted four months. Mike was a domineering dick who did a damn good job at pretending to be sunshine. Wilder wondered if Tommy realized he didn’t have to date twice-divorced men in order to figure out what he liked, but it also wasn’t his place to speak. At least, until he and Tommy met up on a random Tuesday, three and a half months into the relationship, and Tommy tried to lie to him about bruises on his wrists. Wilder was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. He’d told Tommy that night that he was capable of doing so much better, that he deserved better. When Tommy had questioned him—over half a dozen beers—Wilder had kissed him about it. 

Granted, that didn’t lead anywhere, other than far enough for Tommy to be confident enough to end the relationship with Mike. They were both single for a few months after that, but whatever Tommy was waiting on, Wilder wasn’t sure. He was still firm on his position about not wanting to be the person to help Tommy gain experience. 

After Mike came Leo. Leo came with a million and a half red flags. Leo came with love bombs and grand gestures, with one thing on his mind. As soon as he got Tommy into bed, he was gone. Tommy never really talked about how everything with Leo panned out, but Wilder suspected that it wouldn’t have gone much further anyway. Another night over too many beers, all Tommy would say about Leo was that he was ‘rough. Way too rough.’ 

Either way, he bounced back. Ezra came along only a few weeks after Leo, and Ezra was so, so sweet. And so naïve. He was younger than Wilder, and clearly still trying to figure things out about himself. However, Ezra also seemed to have stars in his eyes about how things were going to work out, while Tommy had lost most of his rosy view on his sexuality. It wasn’t to say that they didn’t have fun together. But Wilder could tell that Ezra thought Tommy would settle down with him, while Tommy just wanted to work out the kinks he’d gone through in recent months and figure himself out more. 

Ezra lasted two months. 

Charlie showed up in the middle of October, almost as though he’d been swept through along with the Santa Ana winds. He put a smile on Tommy’s face that Wilder was positive he’d never seen on his friend. Charlie was the boy from Iraq. He was also Tommy’s first real love. Wilder liked Charlie. 

Wilder didn’t love Charlie. 

It wasn’t that Charlie was a bad guy. Charlie clearly cared about Tommy a fair amount, although it was questionable whether he actually liked Tommy as much as Tommy loved him. The deeper problem was that Tommy looked at Charlie the way Ezra had looked at Tommy. Except, Charlie had done the  ‘make my parents happy’ way. He had been married, was now divorced, and still half-living in the closet. Wilder had warned Tommy against doing that with him, warned him that it would only lead to him getting hurt, but Tommy swore to him that Charlie had promised. Promised one day soon they would be out together. Promised they’d get to tell people the truth. Promised the kids would know him as more than just Charlie’s army buddy. 

Those promises went on for a year before Tommy smashed what was left of his rose-colored glasses. Wilder was there with the alcohol and the metaphorical stitches to piece Tommy back together. 

The thing was, by that time, he’d promised himself that he and Tommy were better as friends. That they’d built something strong enough to withstand the passing glances and the hugs that lasted a minute too long, the pauses when they pullled away where he could feel Tommy’s breath on his lips and it stirred something inside him that he hadn’t felt since he was sixteen and dating Danny Coston, sneaking kisses behind the fieldhouse while they were skipping out on PE. 

He’d loved Tommy too much by then. As his friend. 

As more than his friend. 

And then one night, over beers and a pizza, Tommy was telling him this story about a rescue that Wilder still thinks was absolutely fucking stupid, rocking a helicopter between cliffsides to rescue a group of teenagers who thought rock climbing without gear in Griffith Park sounded like a fun idea. By some miracle, everyone had been saved, Tommy hadn’t crashed the helicopter, and it had made the news. What’s more, Wilder had been the first person Tommy had wanted to tell him about his suicidal save. 

Wilder had to kiss him about it, of course. That shattered whatever falsehoods Wilder was letting himself live in at that point in relation to their relationship. Tommy wasn’t experimenting anymore, and he didn’t need an education. He was out, he wasn’t interested in keeping secrets, and he wanted something real.

. . . 

The first year was amazing. Granted, WIlder never fell in love with the danger of Tommy’s job, but that was fine. He was in love with everything else about Tommy. He loved his personality, his face, his body, his hopes, his dreams, his willingness to be Wilder’s model on any occasion…he just loved Tommy. 

Year two wasn’t as easy. They were settled, talking about living together but not quite pulling the trigger. Wilder’s career was doing really well. He’d taken part in four exhibitions in less than a calendar year and there was a lot of attention coming his way. There were offers coming out of Chicago and New York for residencies and some teaching opportunities. 

There was a bad fire at a compound. Tommy got second-degree burns and had pretty bad smoke inhalation. Wilder hoped that after that, maybe he’d rethink his career. 

Things got worse. 

Still, somehow they found their way through. As they came upon their second anniversary, it felt like they were reaching the other side. There were still offers on the table for Wilder, and he had floated a few of them to Tommy. In return, Tommy had fully supported the suggestion for a three-month residency in Chicago. He would remain in L.A. during Wilder’s time away, but it was good for Wilder, and as Tommy had said to him at the time, ‘what’s good for you is good for us’. 

Except, the offers didn’t stop at Chicago. He was weeks away from finishing his residency when he was offered the opportunity to take part in an exhibition in Texas. What was supposed to be a two week trip there turned into four months, and their anniversary came and went with little more than phone calls and the occasional flight out for a twenty-four or forty-eight hours together. 

After Texas was Savannah, Georgia. Then Charlotte, North Carolina. Then a month-long trip to Florida with a few guest lectures at FSU. Eight months into what should’ve been the third year of their relationship, Wilder hadn’t seen Tommy more than fifteen days total. And the thing was, the love was still there.

But they weren’t in love anymore, and he knew they both felt it. Tommy loved his job just as much as Wilder loved his. Neither of them were going to give up their careers, and they weren’t going to ask the other to, either. 

It ended on a facetime call, just a few weeks before their anniversary. There were tears shed, although it was more a sadness at the loss of what they’d hoped they could be than it was at the actual relationship. There were ‘I love you’s. And then there was silence. 

. . .

The first time Wilder meets Evan Buckley, he’s barely been back in Los Angeles for a week. He’s set to start a residency for the summer and then take on a teaching position at UCLA in the fall. He’s supposed to be meeting some friends for dinner when the blonde man bumps into him at the bar, stammering out an apology with full hands as they turn to face each other. 

Evan looks at him with a weird expression that Wilder doesn’t fully understand at the time. He dismisses the bump as equally his own fault and then turns his attention back toward the bar. 

“Hi, baby. Sorry, I’m late.” 

That voice feels like someone just poured a shot of Jack Tennessee Honey down Wilder’s throat. All the heat with none of the burn. As he turns back around, he spots a familiar head of brown curls just as the blonde tilts up toward him, and then Tommy is kissing the other man. Wilder inhales a sharp breath. 

The thing is, it’s been more than a year. It’s been even longer since he and Tommy were something real. But something about seeing him kiss another man still stirs something in Wilder’s chest. 

Still, he decides it’s not his place. Not here, and not tonight. He steps away from the bar and moves down some ten feet, around the corner of it and in between a few people. 

. . . 

“So were you going to call me?” 

It’s been three days. WIlder is standing in the middle of an aisle at Blick, trying to decide between Golden and WIndsor Newton acrylics when he looks up. Tommy has a basket in his hand, half-full with small canvases and a fair amount of Liquitex. 

“Hey, T,” he greets cordially. Tommy smiles at him and then steps forward, offering him a side hug. Wilder accepts it, tucking his chin over Tommy’s shoulder. “Good to see you.” 

“I had to call your mom,” Tommy states when they part. 

“I was gonna call at some point,” WIlder states a bit sheepishly. 

“You always go with Windsor,” Tommy comments, as though he can hear the argument in Wilder’s head. “Forget Golden.” 

Wilder chuckles. “Sure.” He’s quiet for a moment, reaches out for a tube of Windsor Newton. As he stares at the unbleached titanium shade in his hand, he contemplates. He tilts his head after a moment, glances over at Tommy. “So. The new guy.” 

There’s a glint of something in Tommy’s eye that Wilder hasn’t seen in at least five years. Something he saw once, after their first drunken kiss. 

“His name is Evan,” Tommy replies. He lets out a soft sgh. “He thought I was introducing you two. Had a hell of a time explaining to him that I didn’t even know you were back.” 

Wilder nods. That familiar twinge of jealousy throbs in his chest, under his heart. 

“You sticking around,” Tommy asks him after another minute of silence. Wilder glances back up at him. 

“Got a residency downtown,” he replies. “And then UCLA in the fall. So I’ll be here, yeah.” 

Tommy nods. “We should get dinner. Evan wants to meet you properly.” 

“Sure,” Wilder says again. What else is he supposed to say? They’re not together anymore. 

“Give me call when you’re more settled. We’ll plan something,” Tommy says with a pat to Wilder’s shoulder. He’s walking backwards then, heading back down the aisle. He shakes a finger in Wilder��s direction. “Good to see you, Wy.” 

. . . 

The second time Wilder meets Evan Buckley, they’re in another bar. He’s been in the studio almost exclusively for the better part of a week and had been dragged out by a friend with the promise of carbs—his fridge might’ve been mostly empty, other than juice boxes and pepperoni slices—but carbs is apparently at a bar that doubles as a pizzeria. 

He’s not following them, he swears. But he’s been waiting for ten minutes on his pizza while his friend is on the phone with his girlfriend when Tommy strolls up to the bar with his boyfriend—Evan? Tommy has his arm wrapped around the younger man’s hip, head tilted in and listening as Evan prattles on with very animated expressions. Wilder isn’t even sure what he’s on about, but regardless, Tommy is nodding along, clearly invested. 

When they make it up to the bar, some five feet away, Tommy’s arm wraps around Evan, boxing him in. There’s a grin on his face and Wilder notices as Evan leans back into Tommy’s body, turns his head and says something into his ear. Tommy laughs, loud enough that the tinkling sound of it carries in Wilder’s direction. 

“Four for Buckley,” one of the barbacks calls out. Evan raises his hand and the man steps over with boxes of pizza. At the same time, someone from the kitchen yells out, “Veggie with mushrooms, light alfredo up.” 

Tommy lifts his head at that, leans back from Evan just enough to look around the bar before his eyes eventually fall on Wilder. He smiles at him. A few seconds later, he’s up next to Evan’s ear, and then Evan glances over in Wilder’s direction. There’s a half-second pause where Evan seems to be taking him in before he smiles affiliatively at Wilder. Evan picks up the pizzas and Tommy switches the arm he has around Evan’s waist as they stride over. As they reach him, another person is settling Wilder’s pizza in front of him. 

“So do you just hang out at all the best bars in LA,” Evan asks when they reach him. 

“Honestly, I’m usually locked up in the studio,” Wilder replies. He glances in Tommy’s direction, but Tommy is still looking at Evan. Still that look in his eyes. Evan moves a hand from under the pizzas and extends it. 

“Evan Buckley. Most people call me Buck though,” he states. Wilder extends a hand to him, shaking it. 

“Wilder Gray.” 

Evan nods. “I know.” There’s an expression on his face that’s caught somewhere between a multitude of emotions. A look that falls somewhere between curiosity, understanding, and skepticism. Wilder looks him over, spots the emblem on his t-shirt. 

“You’re a firefighter,” he muses. 

“And you’re a multidisciplinary artist,” Evan replies. 

Wilder nods. It’s interesting. It’s like they’re meeting for the most cordial duel of all time, but neither of them have brought guns; just clipboards and pens. 

A phone rings, and Tommy glances away from them. A moment later, he looks back up. 

“Hey baby that’s Eddie and Chris wondering why we haven’t brought dinner back,” he states, giving Evan’s hip a light squeeze. Evan nods, although his gaze lingers on Wilder for a few seconds longer. He turns then, leans into Tommy. Wilder watches as whatever tension is left in Tommy’s body seeps away. 

God damn. He really wanted to not be able to like Evan Buckley. 

“See you around,” Evan states after a moment, glancing in Wilder’s direction again. Wilder nods at him. As Evan and Tommy walk away, Tommy’s hand still on Evan’s hip, his friend strides back across the room 

“Hey, what’d I miss?” 

. . .

A few weeks go by without any run-ins. Maybe it’s because Evan and Tommy find other places to hang out. Maybe it’s because Wilder basically lives in his studio (it’s definitely not that). Maybe it’s because of wildfire season (it might be that). Either way,  Wilder doesn’t see much social interaction beyond his friends occasionally dropping by the studio and his parents stopping in to drag him into the sunlight. Once or twice he opens grindr, but nothing promising pans out. 

It’s mid August when Wilder spots them out together again. Another bar, another set of drinks. He’s been flirting with a guy who introduced himself three minutes after Wilder walked through the door when he spots Evan on the other side of the room. He almost thinks about going over to say something, but there’s a look in his expression. 

Something that looks curiously like defeat. Tommy is standing next to him—Wilder could place that mop of hair anywhere—talking into his ear much like he was that first night all those weeks back. He tries to look away enough to not make Evan look in his direction, realize he’s being stared at. But he sees the way Tommy’s talking calms Evan, the way he leans into him. The way their communication wipes out the defeat in Evan’s expression and replaces it with a small smile. And then a laugh. And then before long, Tommy has Evan half tipped on the barstool, their noses and foreheads pressed together as Evan straight-up giggles. Tommy is laughing with him, and fuck. 

Wilder really wanted to not like Evan Buckley. 

But Evan Buckley isn’t Mike, holding Tommy hard enough to hurt him (although the way he fists Tommy’s t-shirt before he kisses him makes a different kind of jealousy stir in Wilder, like these two probably throw each other around a bedroom with ease, and he wants to see that). Evan Buckley clearly isn’t Leo, just looking to fuck Tommy hard into a mattress and leave him behind. 

Evan Buckley might be a little like Ezra, and Wilder isn’t sure how he clocks that. Except, there’s an ease about him that Ezra never had. Evan Buckley clearly wasn’t looking for an education. The love in his eyes was obvious to the entire damn bar, whether they wanted to know or not. 

Evan Buckley definitely was not Charlie. He was openly making out with Tommy in public, hands all over the man’s body in a way that Wilder could tell was at least partially to tell the world ‘this is mine, and only mine’. 

. . .

It’s an early morning in September when they run into each other. Wilder is definitely not prepared for an eight AM class, and he’s questioning why he agreed to take this particular one on, but there’s no option to back out now. 

He stands inside the café wearily, waiting on his order, when the door chimes with ringing bells and he glances up. Evan Buckley. 

The blonde is in a hoodie Wilder recognizes as Tommy’s. The Harbor Station seal is on the back of it with his last name printed across the bottom. Evan yawns as he walks up to the counter and grabs two coffees. Knowing the kind of schedules they work, it seems Evan is heading home while Wilder is just starting his day. 

Except, Evan stops in his tracks when their eyes meet. 

“Evan,” he comments softly, acknowledging the other man. “Or, Buck. If you prefer.” 

Evan shrugs. “Evan is fine.” A pause. “Wilder. Its…convenient? To see you.” 

Wilder lets out a small chuckle. He nods. 

Evan walks forward a few steps, as though he’s not going to say anything further, and he makes it about a half-step past Wilder before he stops, leans back slightly, contemplating. He looks up at him. 

“He still talks about you,” he states. There’s no jealousy in his tone, no anger. Almost like he’s just putting the information out into the universe. Wilder nods again. He stares at Evan for a moment and then tilts his head slightly, almost like he’s letting him in on a secret. 

“And he’s in love with you.” 

Evan stares at him for a moment, and Wilder isn’t sure if Evan has realized that or not. His expression doesn’t let on one way or the other. 

Wilder takes a deep breath and the corner of his mouth pulls up a little into a small smirk. 

“Tommy never once looked at me the way he does you,” he states. “Not even during the best of it all. And me? I couldn’t ever fully accept the job.” He pauses for a moment, contemplating whether he needs to say more. Even if he doesn’t, he continues anyway. “I found him when he needed a friend. You founded him when he needed a partner.” 

A smile pulls at Evan’s face. If he has anything else to say, he doesn’t get the chance. His phone starts to buzz in the pocket of the hoodie, and he stacks the coffees together before pulling it out, answering the call, shooting only half a glance in Wilder’s direction before he speaks. 

“Hi, babe. No, I already got it. I’ll be there in like five.” 

. . . 

It’s the first week of December. Wilder is exhausted, maybe even a little burnt out, but riding high. His residency has panned out into an exhibition, and it’s the opening night. He’s been bouncing all over the gallery, trying to greet everyone and talk to them, see what they do and don’t like about the work presented. 

A hand comes down on his shoulder as he finally finds a few seconds to get a bottle of water, and he spins. Tommy. 

“Hey, T,” he greets cheerfully, if not a little weary. “Thanks for coming.” 

Tommy nods, and they share a quick hug. 

“How’d you hear,” he asks. Tommy gestures off towards one of the walls and Wilder glances over. 

“Evan saw the listing,” he states. “Told all of our friends we needed to come support. He’s really obsessed with that picture of your nephews.” 

WIlder glances over at the picture. It’s a large portrait, of two children facing away from the camera. One, old enough and tall enough that he isn’t even in the image aside from his torso and legs, with his hand resting on the younger one’s head. The younger child is a toddler, leaning into his sibling’s leg with his arm wrapped around it. 

“I’ve been tasked with getting your price list,” Tommy adds. 

Wilder lets out a soft huff as a smile tugs across his lips. 

He wanted to hate Evan Buckley. He wanted Evan Buckley to be like Mike. Or Leo. Or Ezra. Or Charlie. 

He wanted Evan Buckley to not be like him, not love and respect Tommy the way he did. But then…

Evan Buckley isn’t like Wilder. Evan Buckley supports the people his boyfriend cares about. Evan Buckley doesn’t care that Tommy is a firefighter or a pilot. Evan Buckley clearly likes art. Wilder barely knows him, and yet he already knows Evan Buckley is caring and selfless. 

He takes a breath and sighs, glancing back at Tommy, watching the way he watches Evan. 

“You’re gonna marry him.” It’s not a question. 

Tommy shifts his gaze back to Wilder. It’s the slightest movement, entirely imperceptible to someone who wouldn’t know otherwise. The twitch of the corner of his mouth, of his eyebrow. 

“Forever doesn’t seem nearly long enough,” Tommy says softly. 

Wilder can only shake his head at him as he smiles at his ex-boyfriend. 

“Well, when you start interviewing wedding photographers, I’d like to at least be consulted,” he states, extending a hand to Tommy. Tommy laughs at him but shakes his hand anyway. 

“Sure, Wy. But you should know, Evan’s seen your paintings and he wants one commissioned.” 

“I’ll take that payday,” Wilder says with a laugh. When Tommy lets go of his hand, he pats Wilder’s shoulder, and then he’s off again, heading back over to Evan and the friends they brought with them. Wilder stands in his spot a moment longer, both hands on the waterbottle he still hasn’t had a drink from. He watches as Tommy’s arm loops around Evan’s waist, and as Evan leans into him. The way Evan points at a portrait and talks to Tommy earnestly about whatever it is he sees. The way Tommy is completely enraptured by Evan’s words, nodding and smiling at him with interest. 

The way Evan puts his hand on the back of Tommy’s head as he leans into him, whispers into his ear. How, when Tommy turns into him to answer, Evan looks at him like he’s the only person in the room. 

The way jealousy still lives inside Wilder, but not the way it was that first night. No, this jealousy is from the way they look at each other, the way Wilder only hopes someone will hopefully look at him one day. He finally looks away when the two men kiss, cracking open his water bottle. He manages to get a sip off of it before someone else is walking up to him.

“You’re the artist, right?” 

[syrupfog]

Penguin can’t help but be a little disappointed when he finds out Killer’s age. 

The thing is, it’s not a big deal. In any way. They’re practically the same age, just like how Penguin and Shachi are practically the same age, and in a world where every year you’ve managed to stay alive is a gift, Penguin knows he’s lucky to still be here, fighting alongside the best crew in the world. 

It’s just that, well, Penguin is old. 

Not in that way where he’s hit middle age, or crested the hill or whatever.

But in that way where he’s always been old. He’s always had Shachi, for as long as he can remember, and he’s always been the older one. 

Then along comes Bepo and Law, and suddenly— although, sure, Law’s the captain— Penguin finds himself responsible for three kids instead of one

Not that he would ever tell Law he views it like that, but— it’s hard not to, when he’s watched him grow up, helped keep him steady in tough moments. 

It was always Penguin’s job to look after Shachi, and then it became Penguin’s job to make sure everyone was fed and together. And sure, he’s managed to take a back seat as the crew’s grown, but it’s a joke that comes around every year when his birthday does, that he’s the elder, the old man. Even after Jean Bart joined, the jokes persisted, and they just— wear on him a little.

Maybe Penguin’s tired.

When he started seeing Killer— in back alleys for sloppy neck kisses, first, and then later Officially, mingling between each others’ crews— Killer had just seems so larger than life. Literally. The man has a good few inches on him in height and even more in width. Penguin had just assumed, naively, that Killer was older, too. He acts as the older brother to a lot of his own crew, after all, barking orders and keeping them in line when they pull dumb shit. 

And Penguin feels stupid now for assuming it, but he had really liked the idea.

The idea that he’d found an older man. That he wasn’t the Adult anymore, that maybe he could just.. relax. 

So when he learns the truth, that Killer is Shachi’s age, he freezes for a moment. Has to rewrite their relationship in his mind. Feels that weight of responsibility again.

Killer, ever perceptive (damn him) (love him) picks up on his turmoil. “That okay?” he asks. “You upset I didn’t mention anything when my birthday happened?” 

“Well, yes,” Penguin says, because it is March now. “But I mean, that’s not—“ he draws a frustrated breath. “It’s fine.”

Killer gives him an unimpressed look. “Never known you to stop talking before the important bit,” he says. “What’s actually wrong? You’re not robbing the cradle, we’re the same age.” 

“We’re not the same age,” Penguin exclaims, kicking his feet up in the air.

Killer’s face goes carefully blank, which Penguin knows from experience means he’s trying not to laugh. “Okay,” he says slowly. “You’re right. You’re an old man compared to me, aren’t you?” 

Penguin somehow, at the ripe old age of 29, feels like the oldest guy on the Grand Line.

“Yeah,” he says. “I am an old man compared to you.” 

Killer huffs and stands up, dislodging Penguin from his lap, although Penguin squeaks in protest. 

“Peng,” says Killer. “What’s the actually about?”

“You’re making a big thing out of nothing,” Penguin says, but under Killer’s withering look he acquiesces. “I’m just— I’m always the old one, alright?” 

Killer raises his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware you had that many previous relationships.”

“I haven’t!” Tugging on his hat, Penguin looks up, up, up from his spot on the bed to Killer’s face. “I mean, like, in life! I’ve always been the old one. The— Ikkaku calls me the mom friend.” 

Killer nods, thoughtfully. He grabs two flasks of water and tosses one to Penguin before returning to the bed. 

“Okay, so you’re the mom friend,” Killer says. “You’re not the mom boyfriend. I don’t need one of those.” 

Penguin snorts. “I’m sure you don’t,” he says, thinking of the way Killer manages to manipulate Kid into eating vegetables against his will.

Killer downs his flask and Penguin watches his throat hungrily. 

“What’s the problem then?” He asks, throwing the empty container aside. 

Penguin fiddles with the cap of his own. “There’s really NOT one,” he says again. “It’s just a, like, personal problem.”

“Mhmm,” Killer hums. 

“It’s like, I just— it’s selfish,” Penguin says. 

“Mhmm,” Killer hums, again. 

“I just want to feel like I’m not the responsible one, for once,” Penguin rushes out, voice getting squeaky, before he throws off the cap and gulps down the whole flask.

“Slow down there,” Killer says, pulling the drink away from his lips. “Okay, sure, that’s understandable.” 

“Is it?” asks Penguin. He doesn’t feel like it is. 

“Sure,” says Killer. “So with us, don’t be the responsible one.”

Penguin frowns. “I can’t just turn that off.” 

“I think you did just fine right up until you learned I’m the younger one,” Killer points out. 

“Y-yeah, but—“ 

Killer, in one fluid motion, surges over Penguin, capturing both his wrists in one hand and straddling his hips, pinning him to the bed. “If you don’t feel like you can stop being the responsible one,” he says, “I’ll just take the choice away.” 

He pulls Penguin’s wrists up the bed until his arms are taunt. Penguin’s face feels like it’s on fire. He tips his head back in order to slide his hat further over his eyes. 

“How’s that sound?” Killer asks, his breath ghosting over Penguin’s neck. “Can’t worry about being responsible if you’re not able to do anything either way.” 

Penguin might combust, actually. Definitely. “Yes please,” he squeaks.

Later, after Killer’s carried Penguin and his jelly legs to the bath, he starts making notes of what mental load Penguin carries. Because hell if he’s going to let HIS boyfriend get too bogged down in being the adult. 

Even if Killer does love having an older man.

[iamsherlocked1479]

Coffee

Doctor Strange x fem reader

DeScription: A morning where only you get to finish before Stephen heads off to work? well thats just unfair.

Warnings: semi/kind off in public, risk of being caught, oral male and female recieving, masturbation.

Word Count: 3K

Mornings in the sanctum where probably your favourite part of the day, you loved waking up with the city, the sound of cars and passerbys drifting into your window along with the sunlight where it would illuminate the man laying next to you, you would yawn and rest your head on his chest and fall back to sleep until his alarm woke you up.

Stephen woke up first, as usual, he looked down, and like always there you were, sleeping soundly with your arm draped over his chest. But a recent development was the ring on  your finger, after five long years he’d finally realised you were putting up with him for life, he had planned it for years and after wong eagerly agreed to watch the sanctum while he took you away for the weekend he finally knelt on one knee and asked you. It always made him laugh when he thought of that night, how you had said yes before he could even complete the sentence, how you spent the rest of the evening admiring the ring and what he enjoyed reminiscing on the most was how he fucked you that night. Slowly and delicately drawing out each orgasm repeatedly kissing you every time you tried to return the favour to him allowing him to make you cry out his name more and more, that sent a twitch to his cock every time he thought about it.

“Stephen?” You finally stirred muttering his name as you came around

“Good morning” he said with a smile, kissing your forehead.

“What time is it?” you asked sitting up with him

“It’s 7am.” he replied, materialising coffee out of nowhere. Before he met you Stephen wouldn't need to get up until around 8am as it didn't take him long to get ready, but now he had you, well that left his options more open in the mornings.

“I bought you a coffee machine for no reason.” you rolled your eyes and sipping the coffee without acknowledging how good it was

“It's in my office.” he replied with a dumb smile

“You're expecting me to believe that when you’re not irritating wong, you'd walk the three steps from your desk to the machine?” you rolled your eyes with a laugh

“I don’t irritate Wong, people love my company?” he said seriously and you just stared at him “you do.” he added

“That's different.” you argued back

“Are you just using me for my body?! How could you?” he jokingly gasps

“If I remember correctly you came onto me.” your replied

“I have, many times.” he added with that same stupid dumb smirk

“Shut up.” you put your mug down and straddle him

“That's my phrase.” he replied flipping you both so that he caged you under him as he planted kisses on your neck

“Stephen,” you laugh, “you have to get ready for work, and so do i.” you say making no effort to stop him

“I am” he says as his kisses move down to your nipple and sucking on it while his hand works on the other.

“You know” you interrupt yourself with a moan “I have to get up too” you say snaking your hand through his hair encouraging him

“Then I'll make this quick.” he said, trailing kisses lower and removing your panties with a click of his fingers. He smiled as you whimpered when he ran two fingers through your wet folds gathering the slick around your clit. He drew circles around it and held your thighs apart as he placed his head between them and swapped out his fingers for his tongue. He licked small stripe from your entrance to your clit before switch to just fucking you with his tongue moaning with you, the vibrations of his deep voice only adding to the pleasure

“Steph- fuck, yes, fuck.” you cried out, your hands lifting over your head and clamping around your pillows as you tried to contain yourself. The room now switched from the soft morning noise to the sound of him sucking and you moaning, thankgod you two were the only ones in the sanctum. 

You felt an all too familiar sensation  building in the pit of your stomach as waves of it began to make its way down to you twitching clit, which Stephens nose was now histting as he thrusted his tongue into your dripping hole. Your eyes widened as even with his tongue he was able to draw out pornographic sounds from you. He switched again, circling your clit with his tongue and repeatedly sliding his middle and ring finger in and out of you curling at just the right spot to drag along your walls. His skill sent shivers down your spine right through your nervous system right back to your clit which began to pulse.

“Fuck you gonna come for me sweatheart?” he said taking a moment to look at the way you grabbed at anything to keep yourself fixated on his touch before diving right back in flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Oh- oh fuck Stephen” his arms held your thighs apart as they clamped with your orgasm, it was long coming in waves each time he licked a stipe on you aching pussy.

“Now that's the breakfast I’m happy to wake up for”  He grinned and kissed your clit one more time as he watched you come down from your high. You were speechless head in between the two pillows, your chest rising and falling with every deep breath you took.

“Fuck” you breathed out sitting up on your elbows watching as he got up from his bed casually licking his fingers like they where covered in honey. You crawled towards the edge of the bed and tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Sorry sweetheart, you’ll have to wait, i gotta get to Kamar Taj,” he said as he walked in the bathroom to take a shower. 

You sat there defeated on the bed, you really loved him, most men would’ve jumped straight at the offer to sort out their hard on, but he really was just in it for pleasing you, and it fucking sucked, he didn’t understand he that you got off on him getting off on you. 

You pouted as he came out the shower dressed in his robes with his cape sitting comfortably on his shoulders.

“Aww don’t miss my cock too much, you’ll get it when I'm home.” he lifted your chin with his finger and planted a soft kiss on your forehead. Before opening a portal and disappearing.

—-----------

Once he reached the sanctum Stephen let out a large sigh, his hard on just wouldn’t go away but he took his work very seriously, so now as he sat at his desk concentrating way to hard on a book about some relic he didn’t care about his eyes flickered to that dam coffee machine you bought him and instantly thought of you.

 And just a simple thought was enough, an uncomfortable twitch brought his cock to life and he couldn’t help but palm himself through his robes. He couldn’t help flicking his finger ensuring his door was locked before prying out his cock blushing as precum dripped eagerly from his tip over a mere thought of having you in his hands, just like he was some dumb horny teen. He closed his eyes with a sigh as he finally began to relieve himself, stroking slowly as he thought of how you had tasted this morning, or how the night before you had ridden him so well. He thought of palming your tits and nibbling on your nipples before laying you down and fucking every last orgasm out of you. His hand began stroking up his length even quicker as he thought of how you’d beg nim to go deeper muffling your moans with his pillow on the off chance that wong was in the sanctum. And right as he imagined you coming he came into his hand, grunting as he watch the white liquid seep between the gaps of his fingers. He cleaned the mess up with a snap of his fingers and continued his day as normal, like he hadn't just jerked himself off at the mere glance of a coffee machine, the mind is always a strange thing.

—---------

It was lunch time when you had finished your chores, you had taken time off from work to relax but found yourself bored within the first two hours of every day, you could try to clean the sanctum but with all these ancient relics and herbs it was probably best to avoid that. You thought about visiting Stephen but in reality you had no way to get to him, he’s yet to teach you how to open a portal. So you wandered the halls, trying to read the books in the library before eventually settling into stephens arm chair to endlessly scroll tik tok getting dragged into the recent curiosity of a new hero the internet had dubbed “Night Light” not the best of names but you never really where one for naming heroes.

After an hour or so you couldn’t help but think about how Stephen had left this morning, wondering if he had managed to hide his very obvious hard-on he left with. Your core clenched at the very thought of him in that way, your thoughts were interrupted by Wong who opened a portal into the library.

“Hey wong.” you smiled “searching for a book?”

“Yes, on astral projection, I don’t suppose you’ve seen it?” he said, climbing onto a step ladder.

“Uh, no.” You looked at the golden portal which remained open and you could see the familiar halls of kamar-taj, you could feel a pool of wetness forming in  your panties at the thought that Stephen was there, p[ossibly still with that hard on. “Whats stephen doing?” you ask nonchalantly

“In his office I believe.” Wong replied, you quirked your eyebrow and tentatively stepped through the open portal leading to the courtyard of Kamartaj where you followed the only route you knew to Stephen's office.

Stephen was reading when you knocked on his door, he jumped slightly as if whoever knocked on his door knew what he had done, he began thinking of excuses like some caught teenager until he sighed in relief when you opened the door.

“What are you doing here?” he said with a smile, as you closed the door behind you, locking it and wandered to the front of his desk

“Well I was bored.” you sighed as he came round to hug you

“You? Bored?” he smiled wrapping his arms around your waist

“Yeah, I'm regretting taking so long off work.”

“A week is too much?” he laughed

“Well you were supposed to be off too.” you added with a kiss gto his cheek

“Ouch” he laughed, “so what do you think I could possibly offer you here?”

“Hmmm” you played with the clasp holding his cloak onto his shoulders while you playfully looked around the room. “Well, if I remember the events of this morning correctly, I owe you something.” You say giving him puppy dog eyes. 

“I told you it was fine.” He chuckled tucking a strand of hair behind your ear

“But not for me” you lean in and press kisses against his neck.

“Honey, not in my office.” He groaned as your lips glided to his pulse point.

“Why not?” You smiled and unclipped his cloak which swiftly flew out the window.

“What if someone were to walk in?” He chuckled

“I locked the door.” You started dropping to your knees and tieing up your hair, before moving your hands to his belt.

“Sweetheart-“ he cut himself off with a soft moan as you palmed his half hard cock through his trousers.

“I’ve been thinking about your cock all morning.” You bit your lip as you pulled down his underwear and trousers exposing him. You jerked him a few times before licking his tip and tasting the salty precum dripping from him.

“Fuck.” He moaned as his gently placed his hand on the back of your hand while resting the other on his desk. He watched as you sunk your head down, swallowing his length slowly, before swiftly pulling up and releasing him with a pop. You kept eye contact as you did this again and again picking up you pace each time until his fingers laced through your hair and messing it up while he tried his best not to fuck your mouth. He groaned loudly, his head falling backwards as you removed him from your mouth and jerked him as you sucked on his balls. “Always know how to treat me sweetheart” he sighed.

You hummed in agreement as you puth the head of his cock into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it, drinking up every ounce of precum, he moaned and pulled your head away and lifted your chin.

“Let me fuck that pussy.” He said lifting you up and swiping the books off his desk, sending them tumbling to the floor. His mouth crashed with yours as his hand slipped up your thigh and pushed your panties to the side where he sunk his fingers into the warm mess waiting for me.

“Fuck, you’re soaked, i want another taste before i ruin it.” He whispered and dropped to his knees and parted his legs “we won't be needing these now will we?” He said tossing your panties somewhere across the room.

He knelt between your legs and dipped his head under your skirt, you felt his tongue flick up your folds and circle your clit before he latched onto it and began to suckle. His hands gripped your thighs firmly allowing him to keep them apart while he feasted on you.

“Shit steph-“ you winced in overstimulation as he added three fingers to the mix, curling them as he pushed them further. He groaned and grumbled every time your body twitched and hips jerked. He wasn’t stopping until you came, no matter how much we wanted to fuck you. You dug your nails into the oak of his desk looking up to the ceiling as you begin to see stars before being lifted into another dimension drenching his office floor. 

“Easy sweetheart, can’t have you dripping through the floors can we?” He chuckled, drinking up the remaining juices from your cunt before standing up to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his tongue as you pushed your hips forward allowing him to run his tip through your slit, he stopped at your hole and eased himself in, groaning as he finally found the sensation he’d been craving all morning.

He pushed into you slowly and steadily, you buried your head in the crook of his neck moaning at the unbearably slow pace he was going at.

“Please Stephen, want more.” You begged and he smiled

“You want it bad don’t you? You don't care where we are?” He smiled and griped your arse bunching up your shirt as he pulled himself deeper into you, the legs of his desk squealed across the floor as his motions caused it to slide back slightly. 

He was fucking you hard and desperately, you squinted as you felt him hitting that spot deep inside you, feeling as the curve of his cock scraped along your walls just perfectly. Causing another orgasm to build up. Your girl tightened around his biceps and he sucked on your neck in response making sure to leave a purple mark.

“You're gonna come sweetheart, give me another one.” He purred, snaking a hand up your top to play with a nipple.

You did as he asked and clenched your legs around his waist as your body released a wave of pleasure that slowly made its way through each and every nerve ending in your body.

“Stephen!” You cried out your body slumping into his, he had you now, you let him do whatever be needed to chase his own release and he did. He stood you up and spun you round and entered your cunt from behind. He pushed down on your mid back as he rutted into you, groaning and cursing every time you clenched. Your mind was blank, all you could focus on was the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of you, the perfect fit.

“Fuck, this cunt was made for me. I can’t belive i left you without filling it this morning, fuck sweetheart.” he gave your rear a firm slap while pinching the fat. “Wanna feel me cum in you?” he asked, speeding up, his cock began to twitch with your words.

“Yes” you crowd out

“Wanna hear it darling.” he said through stuttered moans

“Fuck yes stephen, want you to cum in me, wanna see how deep you can get it, fuck.” you moaned gripping the edge of the desk as he spilled himself into you, you could feel the pulsing of his cock as he groaned letting his body drop onto yours as he kissed your back.

“There, now I can start my day,” he said breathlessly. He lifted himself up your skin sticking to his slightly with sweat and pulled himself from you smiling as he watched his work drip from you. He snapped his fingers and the room was back to normal, and your clothes fitting you neatly. He walked over to you and planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“Uh stephen?” you broke the silence

“Yes?” he smiled innocently.

“You didn't give me my underwear.” you rolled your eyes as he dangled them in front of you.

“I much prefer you without, besides can't I have something to remind me of my finances visit?” he smiled as he put the scrunched underwear in his desk drawer.

“You know I have a draw full of them at home right?” you sat on the edge of his desk and watched as he walked to the otherside of the room

“So you won’t miss those” He walked over to the silver coffee machine in the corner of the room “cappuccino?” he pulled that dumb smirk that made you fall in love with him

“So you do use it” you laughed

“occasionally.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: okay so technically im still calling it valentines day, its only 5 minutes late (Bite me) writing has been slow for me lately and im not really complaing because I'm really happy with this one. <3

If theres typos im so sorry

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Eight.

Fuck it, it's Friday, I'm feeling generous, have another chapter! Enjoy, besties!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,145

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Hundreds of times. Hundreds? She didn’t know why, when infidelity was infidelity, but having the assumption that he’d only partook of a few extra marital dalliances shattered by the fact that it had been over a hundred women throughout the eighteen-year span of his marriage, was suddenly so much worse to bear. Especially when he’d surmised it as “a few” when confessing that to her.  

Hundreds was far from few. 

Not really knowing what to do or where to go, she wandered through the rooms, hearing her name called eventually when she got to the sprawling lounge. 

“Dolly, hey. You alright?” Greta asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned, the woman feeling her heart sink. “No, you aren't. Come on, come here.” She let herself be pulled into the hug, crying further, feeling tumultuous inside. “Scared, huh, that he’ll do the same thing to you.” 

“No... maybe... oh, god, I don’t know,” she sniffed, pulling back, thanking Greta for the handkerchief she offered. “He says it’s different with me, that he hasn’t cheated and doesn’t plan on doing so either. Am I stupid to believe that? When he told me he’d been unfaithful in the past, he left out the part detailing exactly how much. He said a few, Greta. Hundreds is not a few!” 

Her friend sighed through a sad smile, her eyebrows drawing up, eyes full of sympathy for the poor girl. “I can’t answer that question for you, toots. All I can say though is, and I dunno if this is wishful thinking or not, but maybe he’s got it outta his system now? He’s forty-three, more grown than he was back in his twenties when he and Fil got married. Maybe he just didn’t wanna scare you by being so candid with the exact number?”  

She was attempting her best to stick a dressing over her pain, and while Emily thought such charity was very indicative of Greta’s kind nature, it wasn’t what she needed. “Do leopards ever really change their spots?” 

Shrugging, Greta called upon a few examples. “Well, the man used to chain smoke like a chimney, but quit two years back since he said, and I quote, ‘I don’t think my chest is meant to fuckin’ rattle when I breathe’, which he noticed went away the less he smoked. S’why he always has the...” 

“Toothpick,” Emily finished for her, “to distract himself from wanting to light up. Yeah, he told me about that. It isn’t the same, though. Smoking is a habit.” 

“So’s fucking other women, dolly. Habits can be broken, if you want it badly enough.”  

Sighing, she looked down at her feet for a second, lips pursing as she twisted them from side to side, still under the duress of discomfort though her tears had finally stopped. “It’s the fact he glossed over it that bothers me more than anything.” Leaning to Greta, she kissed her cheek. “Thanks for being a good friend. I’m going to take a little walk; I need to calm down.” 

Her walk took her across the property over to a long line of trees, a dirt road that looked to lead down to a group of outbuildings. She’d have taken the lake, but she didn’t want to run into Luca on his way around it with the kids. Besides, she wasn’t ready to face him yet.  

It was conflicting to her, having virtually no temper, always preferring the calm approach regarding conflict and now being left with nothing but fury in her belly and the desire to slap his face for downplaying his infidelities. Why had he lied? If he’d opened up enough to tell her in the first place, be candid, then why was he hiding the complete truth?  

Her mind could only go to one place; the place of him knowing deep down, he’d probably do it again. That was, if he hadn’t already.  

Fear shunted through her veins like a freight train, the distressing thought of losing him because he couldn’t be faithful to her. The pain of it crushed her fragile spirit, and that was only in imagining what it would be like to discover his deceit. It flew in stark contrast to the fact that Emily well knew his gaze towards her was fonder than anybody else, save his children. Love came in at the eyes and took a path directly to the heart, and every time he looked at her, she felt it beam his adoration right into her chest.  

Truly, she had no reason to doubt his sincerity, and she honestly had believed him when he’d sworn he hadn’t ever been untrue to her. Funnily enough, she was perhaps the only person in his life who knew when he was lying. He didn’t do it often, but every time he did, his thumb stroked over the crucifix tattoo upon the middle finger of his right hand, as if silently asking forgiveness from god for his sins. It was a barely noticeable tell, but she’d picked up on it when witnessing him bullshitting people.  

Reaching the outbuildings, she saw that it had once housed a stable block, the structure now crumbling from rotted wood, in no fit state to house a living creature. It was a shame, she thought, imagining what it must have looked like back when it was built, which she guessed was likely in the eighteen seventies, going on the overall design of the property.  

He said he lost count when he hit triple digits. 

Filomena’s words smacked her sharply again, raking a hand through her curls as she sighed, kicking a pebble across the dusty ground beneath her feet. Would he, though? Was the man who was all hers truly looking to seek out an alternative to it just being him and her? The man who confessed his sins to her in the dead of night as they lay talking, truly, would he forsake the bond they shared for the dalliance with a warm body that was not hers?  

She’d truly liked to have thought she was much less naive than she had been in the almost six months she had been in his life for, learning from him how not to let anyone take her for a ride, learn how to be shrewder, wiser, less easy to manipulate. Why teach her to be anything else, if he indented to hoodwink her? Surely, the man would want her to remain the unworldly little waif who always put her trust in the wrong people, should he have planned to be deceitful to her?  

It didn’t make sense.  

A frown knitted her dainty features, turning to slope off back the way she’d come, her ears picking up on the sound of a cawing coming from one of the huge trees to the side of the path. Looking up, there upon the branches slowly becoming thicker with the lush green of spring, sat a pure white crow. She’d never seen one before, stopping to look up at the bird, its blue eyes staring back at her before it began to caw again, ruffling its feathers.  

A second bird then swooped down, its coal black wings wide, folding neatly as it landed beside its white counterpart, the creatures making soft noises of greeting to one another. She witnessed it, the little display of affection, the black one beginning to preen the white, gentle beak clicks sounding its contentment.  

They reminded her of she and Luca; the light and the dark, bonded effortlessly despite being so different.  

Walking back towards the house, she still had no idea what on earth to say to him when they came face to face, picking out the figure of Filomena still sitting outside, hearing the sound of the children screaming with mirth as they ran up from the lake. She thought he’d maybe gone inside already, but as she took the stone steps that led back up the rolling garden, she heard him shout behind her, telling Guiseppe not to throw rocks at his sister.  

She hurried her pace, wanting to move back into the house and avoid him, but that wasn’t easy when her man had legs longer than the average Derby winner. “Hey, where are you rushing to, amore?” 

The face he was met with took him aback, her expression hardened a little as her eyes darted and she dropped her chin. “Inside.” 

Of course, he persisted. “What’s wrong, huh? You’re not your usual self.”  

His hands prevented her movement, Emily pulling herself from his grasp, her hand moving to strike him sharply across the cheek. It was the first time she’d slapped anyone, and she hated it, especially watching the confusion and anger flit across his face, his mood darkening rapidly. “I never am when I’m lied to. A few, you told me of your affairs. Not over a hundred women, as I learned.” 

He bit his back teeth together, his head snapping to look up at the house, where Filomena sat, a very captive audience to it. “I told you not to listen to her poison, Emily. I explicitly told you that.”  

The fact he couldn’t meet her eye confirmed it. “It isn’t poison when it’s true though, is it? No matter how malicious her intent was. It’s still true, and you still tried to hide that from me.”  

Walking away, she was just stepping back into the house again when she heard Luca explode like a bomb, hurling insults towards his ex-wife in savagely delivered Italian, his fury let loose. “Excuse me, please can you show me up to the bedroom?” she asked Catherine, the housekeeper who had come with them, the woman nodding as she changed direction immediately.  

She looked relieved to be escaping the immediate proximity of the Italian hellfire being flung back and forth outside, Emily closing her ears to it as she trotted up the many steps comprising the marble staircase behind the woman who looked like she had seen the two people they’d left in their wake becoming furious with one another one too many times before.  

“End of the hallway, miss. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go and help chef prepare dinner.” Pulling her shoes from her slightly sore feet, she carried them while padding along the carpeted hallway, again studying her surroundings as she went, trying to take her mind off her current predicament.  

Entering the bedroom, her mouth fell open, the space absolutely beautiful. It was all art deco, the decadence actually very simply done, black walls with white mouldings and ceiling, the hardwood floor furnished with fluffy white rugs, and as Luca had already revealed, a very big four poster bed in the centre. Sitting on the edge, she fell back into the comfort of the fresh, white linen, her eyes picking out the details of the ornate moulding around the chandelier that hung above, glad she was surrounded by silence.  

Needing something to do in order to keep her mind occupied, she moved to where their belongings had been placed, Luca bringing very little with him since he of course already had everything he needed right there. She began to hang up her own items in the large, sparse wardrobe, knowing that she’d packed too much, remembering back to that morning when he’d told her that, too.  

Just as she was placing her jewellery away, her peace was disturbed by a tightly wound looking Luca, coming in and clicking the door shut behind him.  

“Emily, I’m sorry for what she said to you.” 

An interesting choice of words. “You’re sorry for what she said, but not the fact you tried to hide the extent of your philandering from me?” She spoke tersely, fingers untangling her multi-stranded pearl necklace. She knew she should have brought it up in a box as opposed to the silk bag she’d stashed everything in to save space. 

He moved to her, standing there in imposition, giving her no choice but to eventually look up at him once she’d finished her task. “Please, honey. Don’t let her get between us. This? It's exactly what that fuckin’ rattlesnake of a woman is lookin’ for.” 

She couldn’t believe her ears. “It might be what she’s looking for, I don’t deny that from what you’ve told me about her. She isn’t coming between us, though. I asked you straight up, how many times you’d been unfaithful to her and what was your reply? A few. A fucking few! Losing count when you got to a hundred isn’t a few, Luca. Jesus god!” 

Moving to the window, she needed space between them, irritated when he followed her. “Emily, just listen...” 

“To what?” she snapped, “more lies?” 

“I didn’t tell you ‘cuz I wanted to spare you it, the fuckin’ ugly truth of the man I was with her.” He reached for her cheek, stroking it, his chest a field of sharpened glass when she knocked his hand away. “I ain’t that man anymore, baby. Not now I have you.” 

Her nostrils flared, eyes fixing him sternly. “You still lied to me. I needed to know the whole truth, Luca.” 

“Oh, you fuckin’ did, huh?” he replied, his agitation winding once more, like somebody weaving thread into a loom. Why wasn’t the fact he wanted to be better for her enough?  

“Yes, I fucking did!” she yelled, tipping him to explosion. 

“What is it that you want me to tell you, Emily? You wanna hear it all, huh? How I was fuckin’ everything with a pulse from day one? You wanna hear how I took a waitress into the bathroom at my own wedding and fucked her over the sinks? Or how about when nobody could get a hold of me when Fil was in labour with Milania, because instead of bein’ a good husband and waiting outside for my first child to arrive, I was at a private sex club in Manhattan in the middle of an orgy? How about that, huh?” 

It hit her in cold waves, to hear of such behaviour, delivered so loudly too. He never shouted or went on angry tirades, and she hated bearing the brunt of it. It wasn’t her he was angry at, though, and she saw it so clearly. He couldn’t meet her eye, pacing slowly as he dropped his head and ran his hand over the back of his neck.  

She moved to him, reaching for his arm, stroking the lean muscle beneath the white shirt. “It isn’t Filomena you’re mad at, is it?” 

His eyes locked onto a point in the distance, jaw tightened, offering only silence.  

“Luca, you can’t make amends for how you acted in your marriage by being flawless in your relationship with me. And I love that you are, I believe you when you say you haven’t and won’t stray from me. I’m not the one who needs your apology, though. She does. She’s still hurting because you hurt her.”  

There it was, the truth his ego had successfully stuffed down for the last year, tried to mask behind the lie he told himself that his wife didn’t care about his infidelity when in fact, she did. She simply didn’t want to break her heart or her marriage by confronting him over it, until she was literally confronted by his adultery right there in their bed.  

He’d never be a good man, not truly. He was the head of an organised crime family, after all. He could, however, be better to the people who cared about him, though. Even if it was now in past tense. His pride still swelled, much too strongly to come out and tell Emily she was right in that moment, his eyes finally finding hers as he turned, taking her hands in his and squeezing them.  

“Gimme a minute.” Striding out of the room, he moved through the house, Emily looking down at the lawn below where Filomena stood, Luca joining her after a few moments.  

She turned around, her eyes glassy, looking up at the man who had torn her heart out, Luca opening his arms and wrapping her in a hug. He stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head multiple times as she wept against his chest, finally - and earnestly - delivering the words she’d so sorely needed to hear. 

“I’m sorry. For everythin’ I put you through. Wasn’t your fault, it was all me.” 

She cried harder upon hearing the apology, looking up at him, her eyes pleading as she stroked his face. “Then if you’re sorry, come back to me. Please. We’re you’re family, Luca. Send the girl packin’, let’s start again.”  

Her statement took him by huge surprise, seeing the sudden vulnerability in the woman so formidable, so embittered by her need to hurt him as much as he had her. It truly rocked him for a few seconds, letting out a long sigh. He covered her hands for his own for a moment, removing them from his cheeks. “No, Fil,” he spoke, shaking his head, “my future is with her now. I’ve been angry at myself all this time, not you, and you needed to know that. That’s all. I ain’t ever gonna be no one else’s but hers.”  

“She won’t love you like I do,” she tried, Luca shaking his head again.  

“She won’t, no. She loves me differently, holds me fuckin’ accountable, makes me wanna be better. I shouldda been better to you, though. Just know that I know, but we ain’t tryin’ again. It’s not what I want.” He walked away then, knowing she likely wouldn’t take his rejection lying down. It wasn’t the woman she was. The man he’d become, though, was somebody he intended on remaining, going back into the house, finding Emily still within the bedroom, and taking her in his arms to plant a passionate kiss upon her mouth.  

“What was that for?” she asked, a little breathless from it, her cheeks flushing.  

He rested his forehead to hers, hands stroking her neck. “For being you, cara mia. I ain’t ever gonna be a good man, but I will be to you. Because of you.” His mouth met hers again, fingers beginning to tease the buttons of her dress undone, their need and longing for one another flickering into greater heat, his big hands grasping her narrow waist and carrying her to the bed.  

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” he began, lips planted kisses on her neck, “and I’m sorry I yelled at you.” His lips rained hot over her breasts, pulling her brassiere from her after flicking the clasps undone, “and I need you to know how much I fuckin’ love you.”  

“Don’t tell me,” she gasped, hands all over him, desire charging over her skin. “Show me.” 

Oh, how he showed her. 

[hannahssimblr]

Look, I am a romance fan. If there's one thing I die for it's a kissing scene.

I'm now close to finishing Jude's teenage years, and all of those magical kisses have been had. The next part of the story is a more adult section, when kisses don't really mean as much as they do when you are seventeen.

The teen years had five main kiss scenes, 3 of which are first kisses (which we love)

I'm proud of them all but am curious as readers which has been your favourite.

Vote, in the name of teen romance.

1

I kiss her. 

She is not surprised. She puts her hands in the right place, behind my neck and she tilts her head forty five degrees to the right and she lets me kiss her, her top lip, her bottom lip, and I try to move her with me and create rhythm and melody with our mouths and our bodies but her head is as stiff as the rest of her, and after a minute or two she releases the breath she’s been holding the entire time onto my cheek in a shuddering torrent and I realise that she doesn’t really know what she’s doing.

2

Alison, when she kisses me, feels holy. She’s like a shrine whose feet I weep at, begging for healing. She and I, this is how we are, this is the cycle we repeat, when I’m lonely, when she’s lonely and we find ourselves in purgatory. She doesn’t want more from me than this, than this shallow kissing, masquerading as something with depth, and sex, sometimes, when we can find a place to have it. I shouldn’t want more either. I don’t think I really do, not if I’m honest with myself, but sometimes I want to ask her why not. Maybe she’s confusing on purpose. Maybe she just likes to punish men. I think that it’d be fair enough if she did. We as a collective have mostly been cruel to her.

3

“Too late.”

“It’s not.”

I bend and kiss her before she can argue any more. Once, just once, but insistently, and I pull back hard with a smack expecting outrage on her face but I find only surprise, desire, and eyes that flick from my eyes to my mouth and back. I kiss her again, slow this time, deep, sure, as my hands hold her hips close to mine, willing for this kiss to wipe it all away, all of the years of hurt and anguish between us, and she lets me kiss her, and she kisses me back with hands that thread through my hair and lips that part so I can slide my tongue inside her mouth.

My knees knock against hers in our clumsy waltz towards her bed and we come down on it together, my body pressing against hers and my fingers finding the warm skin beneath her t-shirt. I draw back to look at her again, dark eyes and full lips and skin, as is mine, blushed amber with the first rays of dawn that stream through the window. 

4

The words she opens her mouth to say never come, because then my lips are on hers. 

I go slow at first. With caution, I explore, gently placing my hands on her neck, until she firmly grabs the front of my t-shirt, and I give in to it. I kiss her greedily. 

The urge comes to put my hands on her. Pulling her closer, my thumb caresses the curve of her waist beneath the hem of her top, her skin, the overwhelming feel of her beautiful, perfect body. This is what I imagined a hundred times.

She sighs involuntarily and my body burns. How stupid I am for this? Why did I do it here? Against this weird wall of plastic flowers, and not inside my tent, where I could lie her down, take my time slipping my hands inside her clothes to inspire more of these gorgeous, blissful sounds she is sighing against my mouth. 

5

Oh, she’s going to kiss me.

I know it seconds before she plucks up the courage, which gives me ample time to stop it, but I don’t. I don’t want to. She leans in, and I let her.

She goes in carefully, with her hand on my neck, and her head tilts to the side before she dots one little kiss on my lips. Two. As though experimenting, she turns the other way, three, four… 

I slide my hands around her waist and kiss her back.

Other kisses don’t make me feel the way I felt last night, as though she’s thrown a match on me and set my body alight, so I can justify doing it again by deciding I am too weak to resist it, that they day is long and that I deserve to surrender to something good.

Moving my hands to cradle her head, I glide my tongue along her bottom lip and she opens her mouth to me, soft and hot and slow, as my thumbs stroke her cheeks. I bite her bottom lip, and her top, as into my mouth, she moans against my gentle onslaught. The moment she makes that sound, I’m gone. 

[hannahmanderr]

Ooh, the full everlasting trio with kiss 29 or 21?

~ 21. "we'll face this together" kisses ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Sam figured there'd be some tears shed on the day of Danny's coronation.

She just hadn't been expecting them to be Danny's tears.

It was only the three of them in the wing, waiting for Danny's cue to enter the throne room. His crying had been so quiet at first, it had taken her and Tucker a long time to notice. Too long, in her opinion.

"Whoa, whoa," Tucker said. They were by Danny's side in an instant. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Danny sniffled and wiped a tear away. "I'm fine," he mumbled. "Don't... just don't worry about me."

"Fat chance, ghost boy." Sam grabbed his hand. "It's your coronation, you should be, like, over the moon."

"I am!"

The look she and Tucker gave him communicated their clear disbelief.

"Seriously, D. Just talk to us." Tucker grabbed his other hand. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's okay."

Danny took a deep, shaky breath. Silent tears still ran down his face. "It's nothing, I swear. Just... I'm being stupid. It's not a huge deal."

"If it's a huge deal to you, then it's a huge deal to us."

"And don't," Sam said, cutting off Danny as he opened his mouth to retort, "go apologizing for making us worry or whatever nonsense. We love you, of course we're gonna worry about you. Deal with it."

That earned them a weak smile from the soon-to-be king. "I was gonna say I don't want to make it a huge deal..."

She and Tucker exchanged a glance. True, they couldn't read each other's minds, nor could they read Danny's, but many years of friendship and now more equipped them with the experience necessary to deduce what he was on about.

Sam smiled, soft and gentle, and leaned in. Tucker did the same. They planted simultaneous, feather-light kisses on either corner of his cheek. When they pulled away, he stared at them with wide green eyes.

"What was that for?" She didn't think she'd ever get over how cute his look of confusion was every time.

"You're not gonna do this alone, you dork," she said, delivering a playful punch to his arms.

"We'll walk right up there with you, and if those stuffy eyeballs get mad about it, you can just tell them off. You're gonna be in charge after all," Tucker added with a cheeky grin.

Danny laughed, albeit hollowly. He looked back and forth between the two of them. "I just don't know..."

"And you don't have to. That's why we're gonna be right there by you, no matter what. So you'll always have someone to fall back on."

The corners of his lips twitched upward.

"Your Highness? They're ready for you."

Danny breathed in again. "You guys promise?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, squeezing their hands.

Sam squeezed his hand right back. Somehow, she knew Tucker did too. "Of course. Not that I can talk for Tucker, but of course I promise. With all my heart."

"And mine too!"

"... Okay." He exhaled, blowing bangs out of his eyes. "Okay. Yeah. I've got this."

Tucker made a buzzer sound. "Nope. Try again."

That finally got a true smile out of Danny. "Fine, whatever," he said with a playful roll of his eyes. "We've got this."

They entered the throne room. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ~ Send me a ship and a number from this ask game and I'll write a blurb or draw a sketch!

[wndaswife]

Hey!

Could you please write a dark fic with Wanda being very jealous and possessive??

-🪐

wanda maximoff & fem!reader

tags: smut, unspecified age gap, masturbation, squirting, face slapping, dumbification, drugging, manipulation, mommy kink, dom!wanda maximoff, sub!reader. MINORS DNI.

word count: 1042

Wanda avoided bringing up the subject of your old family, your parents and your friends from school. It only confused you when you tried to imagine a life that had taken place before you started living with mommy.

Your first interaction with her was innocent enough. Wanda had seen you move into your new house during the summer, and she simply could not take her eyes away from your pretty face and your cute little body. You were much younger than she was, and younger than her sons, too. They’d grown up and moved away, and hardly ever saw her besides a few days of Hanukkah every year.

It was a lonely life after Wanda’s divorce, and she had nothing better to do than prey on you for the next few days before she finally approached you. She watched you change in your bedroom and snapped photos of your naked body while she bounced on one of her dildos.

With a homemade strawberry rhubarb pie in her hands, Wanda introduced herself to you after timing it perfectly so your parents weren’t home.

‘I’m Wanda, your neighbour across the street,’ she welcomed you with a wide smile, flashing her white teeth at you and crinkling her eyes so she tore down your defensive walls.

Soon, she was driving you to your classes, coming into your house while your parents were away, having you over for dinner for just the two of you. Within three weeks, Wanda pulled you onto her lap in her car when she drove you to get supplies for your school project. She fucked you in her seat until you squirted all over her slacks.

You were so gullible and dumb, letting her pinch your little nipples through your shirt and kissing your neck while you were home alone with her. She fucked you in your bedroom, her little girl, so young and pretty. 

How stupid were you, truly, to have an older woman step into your house and do whatever she wanted to you? Granted, Wanda had allowed you to warm up to her overtime, but it had only worked because of how mindless and impressionable you were.

One night when you were having dinner at Wanda’s house as you often did, she poured a special powder in your warm milk, and within several minutes, you were out cold. She acted quick, because she had everything planned beforehand, and soon had you on the road with her as she drove away from your home and hers, moving away from everything either of you had ever known to live together.

‘Mommy, where are we going?’ you muttered out sleepily as you began to wake up a few hours into the drive.

‘We’re going on a trip together, baby. Don’t you want to get away with mommy?’ Wanda coerced, rubbing your thigh with her hand soothingly.

Sometimes, you were fussy. Wanda understood because of how hard it was for a little girl like you to take in a new home. She knew how to soothe you. Often, you were laying on mommy’s lap while you nursed her breasts, her fingers drawing circles against your puffy cunt. 

Wanda’s limit was reached when you cried to go home and wanted to see your friends and parents again. She didn't like when you brought your old home up. She would drag you by your hair to your playroom and sit on a chair designated just for her. Wanda would slap your face until you cried, then threw you over her lap, her hand still grasping at your hair painfully.

‘Mommy isn’t enough for you, huh?’ she snarled as she spanked your ass. ‘I’m so good to my little girl, feeding her and giving her a home, a bed to sleep in. Mommy gives you cuddles and attention, and that still isn’t enough. You ungrateful fucking bitch. I should throw you out onto the street for how you’re treating me.’

You always begged for her forgiveness, as mommy liked for you to do. You got onto your knees and cried into her lap, apologising profusely while she pet your hair. 

Overtime, you begin to forget your old home- your parents and your friends, schooling, and any life separate from Wanda. You tug at her hand when simply going to the kitchen to get a glass of water or juice, not being able to stand a moment apart from her if you could help it.

Your dependence on her made it easy for Wanda to take over your mind, controlling your every opinion and thought of the world. When you watched television together, sometimes photos of your face, unrecognisable to you, popped up on the screen. 

Mommy told you that bad people were looking for you, trying to take you away from her. At the very thought of being taken away, you cried into her chest and grasped at her shirt and begged for her to keep you safe. 

When Wanda had to go out without you to do important things, as she always told you, you were locked in your playroom with your stuffies and in the corner of the room, your cage. She didn’t like for you to be roaming the house without her supervision, and wanted to make sure where you were, always.

Sometimes Wanda brought you out with her on trips to the park and to go shopping, but it was in different faraway places each time. You felt bad for mommy, who always went to lengths to keep you safe from the bad people trying to take you away from her, so you made a point to always be a good, obedient girl. She didn’t need any more trouble than she already had.

You were hers forever, and no one would ever take you from her. She punished you until you begged for her forgiveness when you mentioned anyone but her. Wanda spoke for you so you wouldn’t be able to talk with anyone else while you were out with her. She groped your pretty boobs in public and pressed lingering kisses to your lips, ensuring that anyone who laid eyes on you knew that you were hers.

You would always be hers, and you’d never want it any other way.

[americasass81]

Not Your Kinda Love

Warnings 18+ for the following:- Implied Stalking, Threatening Behavior, Non-consensual Sex, Dubious Consent, Implied Smut {m/f, oral f receiving), Implied Use of Sex Toys, Implied DBSM Dynamic, Use of Pet Names. Seriously do not read if any of this upsets you, the warnings are there for a reason. Feedback is welcomed and any mistakes are my own.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Synopsis:- It might not have been your kinda love, but perhaps in the end it would be just what both of you needed.

Author’s Note 1:- Written for @caplanbuckybarnes Titles For Caplan Writing Challenge.  Thank you for hosting this fun challenge Caplan.  I really enjoyed creating this piece.

Author’s Note 2:- As usual all images have been found through google search.

Pairing:- dark!Loki Laufeyson X Female Reader

Total word count:- 4,134

Turning over in bed and reaching for the body beside you, you couldn't believe you were here ... again.  What was it about him that kept drawing you back night after night, heartache after heartache?  You knew he was never going to change given who he was.  Hell, he had all but proven as much that first night you had ended up beneath the sheets together.  And yet the more time you spent with him, letting him do the things he did, the more your heart still held out hope.  Still had room for the possibility that if you continued to give enough of yourself, he would hold you the way you now held him as your mind wandered back to when and how this fucked up situation first began.

Exactly three months previously and thank god the party was winding down.  Of course you loved being Tony Stark's personal secretary and knew any number of women that would kill for the job you now held and the opportunities it presented, but damn that man if he didn't take the 'personal' part of your job title far beyond the scope of what you had signed up for.  Calls at all hours of the day and night for stupid little things whenever a thought popped into his head as if he didn't have an array of virtual assistants capable of recording a quick email.  Work AND home things that Pepper insisted were not all your responsibility, which Tony continued to ignore to both her annoyance and yours.  And of course, there was the organizing of all those Stark parties.

Dressed up to the nines for every holiday event along with any other frivolous occasion the master of ceremonies decided was worth celebrating.  And you just had to be in attendance.  After all, not only were you a highly valued member of staff, but as Tony liked to remind you every chance he got, someone as wonderful as you deserved to have men and women falling over themselves to wine and dine you as they tried to prove themselves worthy of claiming your heart and where better to meet such individuals.  As if he'd actually stop pestering you long enough to give these potential suitors the opportunity to even talk to you.

No, picking up your latest drink from the bar now and taking a sip while looking at your watch, you promised yourself once the liquid ran out you were heading home.  Sure some of the women here had seemed interesting and hell having spent quite a bit of time in Stephen Strange's company you could certainly see the appeal where he was concerned.  But something wasn't right.  Maybe all your years working now as Tony's assistant had heightened your sense for trouble but you just couldn't get comfortable.  Then again maybe it was the trouble that followed the Avengers through no fault of their own that had you so on edge or maybe it was the eyes you felt tracking you all night yet never seemed to be there when you tried to zero in on them.

Yes, it was most definitely them you should have paid more attention to.

Raising your glass to your lips again to take another sip and just as you and the liquid kissed, all hell broke loose ... in a manner.  Shutting off the music and taking command of the sound system, Tony Stark’s trusted A.I. F.R.I.D.A.Y. clearly informed all those present that a minor emergency had occurred in the compound that required part of it to be locked down.  This meant of course that everyone, yourself included, was now expected to take up residence in an available room in the accommodation wing since all the main exits had been sealed.

So as you now downed the rest of your drink before heading off to find a bed for the night, you couldn't help but sigh at this inevitable turn of events while simultaneously grumbling at your lack of a family and the easy out that came with it.  After all, those people with kids had it all you now thought as you calmly passed some worried party goers making their way along the corridors or stopping for directions despite the fact that people were only permitted to head in one direction.  No, those lucky sods had shown up, enjoyed a few hours break and then headed back home at a reasonable hour under the guise of having been away from their little ones for far too long.  Hell it was even rumored on many occasions that Tony forked out for the childcare costs of those that attended these little shindigs.  Talk about having your cake, frosting and getting to eat it you thought.

Setting this aggravation aside and finally reaching the accommodation wing, you now let go of these jealous musings long enough however to claim the first open door you came across, stepped inside and closed it behind you before you realized none of it really mattered where you were concerned.  Here or at home, being the first or the last to leave, you worked too hard and too long to ever land a partner willing to slot themselves into your lifestyle and even if you did, Tony would probably still find some stupid reason to have you hanging around.

No, this was the job you ended up doing and there was nothing you could do about it other than quit … and even that hadn’t worked.

Sighing deeply now as you locked the door and began removing your dress and heels, the fabric pooling at your feet made you wish your resolve had been stronger.  So much stronger.  After all, was this not the reward the great Tony Stark had bestowed upon you the last time you had typed up your resignation letter and left it on his desk.  That and of course a fabulous week at a top of the range spa and the promise that he would also scale back his unreasonable demands on your personal time.

Yeah like that had materialized.  Two days back at work and all was as it was before.  He just couldn't manage without you it seemed.

Walking towards the bed now and slipping under the covers feeling totally exhausted, you were just about to close your eyes and leave Tony Stark and the rest of the compound to do whatever it was they were doing when a noise alerted you that sleep was not your destination just yet.  Sitting up in bed mindful now of all that might be going on within this private space, you thought about calling out to F.R.I.D.A.Y. but then thought better of it.  After all, the eyes you thought were on you all night never materialized and for all you knew F.R.I.D.A.Y. was busy elsewhere dealing with whatever problem had landed you and the other guests in your current locations to begin with.

Then again, there was also the real possibility that it was simply the night's drinks playing tricks on your mind.  After all, now that you thought about it, you couldn't accurately remember how many you had actually consumed and thanks to you organizing this blessed event, it had been one long week that saw you burning the candle at both ends and now found you beyond exhausted.

No, listening intently now a bit longer and hearing nothing, you reassured yourself the situation had simply heightened your senses while your imagination flew off to the land of make believe.  You were safe and everything was fine.  Holding onto this thought then, laying down on the bed again and closing your eyes to the world around you, sleep came to embrace you once more before it was cruelly snatched away again however ... you had most definitely heard something this time.  You were sure of it.

Cursing yourself now that you had not worn anything under your dress, but smart enough to know that you couldn't fight off a possible intruder with a massive sheet wrapped around your body, you climbed out of bed and called out for F.R.I.D.A.Y. as loud as you were willing to under the circumstances, but wasn't surprised when no answer was received.  It seemed you were on your own.  Listening out once more now but again hearing nothing, you slowly opened the bedroom door next and looking around the living area was a bit relieved at least to see that you seemed to be alone.

Now you just had to prove it.

Walking quietly over the threshold then from one room into the other you didn't need the missing dress or the altered lock on the main door however to tell you that something wasn't right.  You felt it in the chill surrounding you that had nothing whatsoever to do with your thoroughly naked form.  No, you were most definitely not alone.

Placing one foot carefully now in front of the other while picking up a heavy glass ashtray from the nearest side table you passed, it still surprised you when you made it to the other side of the room without incident.  Reaching up to examine the locking mechanism then and confirming that it was indeed open now, your hand moving down to catch the handle and pull the door open raised a whole different set of questions however as the door held firm.

Placing the ashtray on the nearest surface now and using both hands this time to pull the door with as much strength as you possessed, you finally had to admit defeat and accept that perhaps exhaustion had at last caught up with you and had now reached the level of paranoia however.  For certain facts proved your theory wrong.  The door for example, despite your best efforts, remained closed.  The room, both of them in fact, remained to the naked eye completely devoid of humans except for yourself.  And there was definitely no other sound other than that of your racing heart.  Even if there were other minor inconsistencies.

Okay so your dress no longer occupied a circle of the floor by your shoes, but walking back to the bedroom then, its shimmering fabric resting now across the back of the couch brought your feet to a total and shocking stop.  Had you put it there?  Reaching out to touch it, it didn't align with any memory you had, but then again you were the only one here.  Perhaps your memory was the altered factor in this situation.  It's not like this hadn't happened before where you and copious amounts of alcohol were concerned.  So picking up the dress and this time taking it back to the bedroom with you, you now closed and locked this door too and placed the garment on the only chair in the room before telling yourself this whole experience was all in your head.  Now if only you could convince your eyes of that exact same fact.  For their experience told a totally different story.

Turning now to face the bed, its soft sheets and embracing comfort should have been waiting to welcome you back once more, but it seemed you weren't truly alone after all.  Stretched out before you now, every bit as naked as yourself, Loki, the god of mischief, was unashamedly ogling you like a predatory animal ready to pounce and devour you whole.  And it wasn't a pleasant thought.

But it wasn't your only thought either.

Running back to the door now and finding it every bit as stuck as the main door you had just assured yourself was perfectly fine, you now screamed out for F.R.I.D.A.Y. but quickly realized you were on your own when a chuckle behind you reached your ears and two strong hands rested now upon your trembling shoulders.  You were cut off from the outside world it seemed.

Turning back around to face your captor now, for that's exactly what he was, you knew you stood no chance of fighting him off however and since running was clearly out of the question, it seemed logic, reason and conversation was now your only avenue to head off whatever sick and twisted scheme Thor's diabolical brother had concocted with you at its center.  So removing his hands from your shoulders then and walking towards the foot of the bed, you sat down and let out another deep and exhausted sigh before finally speaking the words that forced you to acknowledge his very real presence.  "Loki, what the hell are you doing in my room naked and why am I unable to leave?"

Moving towards you now but stopping abruptly however when you stared him down with an exasperated expression, he held up his hands in surrender and walked instead towards the chair that now held your dress.  Picking it up then and dumping it on the floor as you had earlier in the night, he then sat down in a manner that left his whole being on display for anyone to witness.  Which explained why your eyes remained laser focused on his face instead.  You wanted answers and you were going to get them.  So, with a calm breath, you asked once more what he was up to and waited for his answer.  One you absolutely did not like.

"Well pet," he started, as his fingers skimmed lazily along his thigh, "we're on lockdown remember.  I needed a bed, you're all alone, so I didn't think you'd mind sharing.  After all, that bed is big enough for two and I promise not to bite,” he finished with a devilish look that told you all you needed to know.

‘Unless you ask me to,’ your mind now heard, though those particular words never actually left his lips.  They didn't need to.  Loki was a trickster after all.  Hell he was THE trickster.  If a bed was all he wanted there had to be a vacant one somewhere in this whole compound and his answer only covered why he was here in your room.  There was still the question of why you couldn't leave, not to mention why his naked form was occupying your bed when the couch in the living room would surely do him just fine.  No, he was definitely up to something and you were determined to find out what that was despite your fear associated with any answer he provided.  So you soldiered on and reminded him again of the second part of your question.  And of course he had an answer for that too.

"Come on pet, we do not know what this emergency is or what terrible beast my dimwitted brother and his band of buffoons may have tempted into this building," he stated now as he rose from his seat and walked towards you before continuing, "no, my conscience could not allow any harm to come to one such as you.  Best to make sure you are utterly protected," he now finished as he stood before you, reached out his hand to take hold of your chin and run his fingers along your cheek as you imagined they had on his thigh just moments ago.

Leaning into his touch now as if he was somehow working his magic on you, you may very well have fallen for his charms if the memory of the party had not suddenly presented itself front and center in your mind however.  The eyes you swore were following you all night but could never find ... "it was you," you suddenly blurted out as you broke free from his hand and now scurried up along the bed putting as much distance as possible between the two of you in the process.  "You were watching me all night.  You planned this?" and though these revelations all came out as a question, you knew.  Even without a word passing his lying lips, the truth could not be denied.

This was all his doing somehow.

Standing before you now as a wicked smirk graced his features, you didn't need his following actions to know that you were screwed.  If you were being honest with yourself, you knew it the minute the main door of the apartment wouldn't open.  You knew it when you found him lying on your bed.  You were what he wanted, but he wasn't about to have his way.  Getting ready to move from the bed and at least attempt to fight him off this time, it seemed he still had the upper hand however as magic tendrils coiled around your arms and held you firmly to the bed frame before he spoke again.

"Now pet before you think about doing something stupid, allow me to paint you a picture so you are fully informed of all that your future actions will entail," and with that a series of images flashed along the wall off to your right in a show of horror that would keep you awake for many nights to come.  Walking from room to room, muttering words you knew you'd never understand over each peaceful party goer he came across, you didn't need his explanation to know their fate now lay in your hands.

But then again Loki wouldn't be Loki if he didn't love to talk, so he stuck the knife in and told you anyway.  Told you that if you should refuse him now or any time here after, one, more or perhaps all of those assembled before you would meet a horrible and untimely death.  Tell his bumbling brother, your boss or anyone remotely associated with the Avengers, law enforcement or earth's governments and again, you knew the consequences.  Try to warn any of these innocent people in any way and it wouldn't end with their lives.  Their families?  Their friends?  Hell tragedies could so easily befall entire neighborhoods these days without anyone ever knowing why.

Best to do as you were told it seemed.  But could you really do that?  Could you really just give in and give this madman what he wanted?

Lingering on this question while gazing once more now as the images wound down to end on one of Shona, a temp you knew that worked for Natasha Romanoff, your blood ran cold and a tear escaped your eyes as the reality of your predicament truly settled in your heart.  He really had left you with no way out.  These people were innocent after all.  They could not be harmed because of you.  And it was because of you you suddenly realized as a totally different image all your own crystallized into being before your very eyes and superseded all of those that Loki had created.

Falling farther into memory's flow now of a night before you had started working for Tony Stark, your life had almost been cut short by a drunk on a motorcycle but for the intervention of a mysterious stranger clad in green and gold armor.  Pulling you out of harm's way and making sure that not a single hair was out of place, he had offered to see you home safely … and how had you shown your appreciation?  You'd walked away and never thought of him again.  You'd never spoken to him, never danced with him whenever your paths crossed at any event both of you attended.  Hell you hadn't even stood up for him and protested that he wasn't himself when the attack on New York had marked him as public enemy number one.

No, you had simply gone on with your life like nothing had happened and forgotten all about him as everyone else had his entire life.  And now you wondered why he was seeking retribution.

Had you only just said thank you or accepted one of his many dance offers.  Had you badgered Thor into realizing just how far Loki had strayed from the boy he had played with as a child.  But no, you had treated him worse than dirt and now your fate was sealed.  Yours and countless others.  So who was the real monster here then?  The god who had been cast aside for doing something any decent person would have done or you, who may now be responsible for many, many deaths as a result of thinking only of yourself?

Pulling against your bindings again as you still refused to accept defeat, Loki laying down beside you and muttering some nonsense as a redhead began writhing on the wall before you suddenly forced the reality of your new situation upon you however in a way his words never really could.  You were all at his mercy.  Sitting back on the bed then and asking him to stop, you exhaled a sigh of relief at his immediate compliance ... at least until he made his true intentions known.

Situating himself between your legs as his fingers and lips now mapped out every mound and hollow of your glorious body, his tongue and shaft reaching places no one ever had before left you completely lost as to what was so wrong with what was going on.  And that was long before the orgasms started.  The orgasms that shook your body, stole your breath and made you realize your life as you knew it would never be the same.  For there was no backing out of this arrangement even if Loki reversed whatever spell he had placed upon the party guests.  You couldn't give this up.

Sure the god of mischief had forced himself upon you by threatening innocent people, but damn him if he didn't make it worth your while.  Positions and toys you never knew of.  Pleasure that bordered on pain.  A tongue ... oh a tongue that could do so much more than spew filthy words that turned you on and disgusted you in equal measure.  And how could you even forget what his godly equipment was capable of.  A human phallus could never compete with his impressive erections, though many had tried.  No, as each night after your initial encounter became a new adventure in what depraved sex act your body could tolerate, even him disappearing in the morning without so much as a kiss on the forehead or a kind word could not it seemed protect your all too human heart.

You had started falling in love with him to the point where very little else mattered.  Work for example now became nothing more than a means of wasting away the day until night fell and your dark prince appeared once more to take you apart as you screamed his name for all the nine realms to hear.  Sure you still worked just as diligently and no one close to you ever suspected what night time brought your way, but beneath the sheets, in Loki's arms, someone else it seemed had taken your place.

Someone who loved to be dominated.  Who loved to be spanked, marked and pushed to new heights of pleasure over and over and over again at the whims of her dark lover.  Who loved ice it seemed far more than heat.  And who, no matter how many mornings her god pushed her arms aside and reminded her she was nothing more than a warm place to stick his cock, was only all too happy to provide whatever small comfort his body was willing to accept when he finally agreed her frail human form couldn't handle any more.

Which brought you back full circle now to him sleeping in your arms while your left leg rested across those muscular thighs that proved every bit as skillful at getting you off as the impressive length currently recovering from yet another night of pounding your pussy apart.  Pulling your body closer to his then as your mind finally accepted what you allowed him to do to you, you now prepared to join him in sleep as your dreams replayed him fucking you to pieces and then putting you back together into this new being that longed to have him acknowledge your growing feelings for him while also admitting that perhaps he too had fallen victim to love's influence.

Admitting that such a thing was most likely doomed to failure given who he was, his arm unconsciously moving up to encircle your waist brought a glimmer of hope you desperately clung to however when his muttered confession told you that his spell had been removed weeks ago.  Bolstered by this new information, the path ahead looked very different now however as your bodies rested together until your carnal desires called out to each other once more and this new dance took both of you to higher plains of euphoria all over again.

[kxhbee]

Love From You

Part Three

~ Rowan Laslow x Reader

~ Friends to lovers

~ Fluff, light angst

~ 1,680 words

~ You fell first but Rowan fell harder

~ Not my best work

~ Not proof read

Key:

~ Y/N: YOUR NAME

~ Y/L/N: YOUR LAST NAME

~ A/N: AUTHORS NOTE

A/N:

I’m so sorry this took longer than I wanted! I wrote an alternate version of this (specified in bottom a/n.) and I’ve had a pretty busy week. But here’s part three! There will be a part four :)

Distracted by all the happiness you were feeling right now from finally talking to Rowan and even having his hand in your own, you completely forgot about the plans you made earlier.

This includes the person that’s standing right outside the Nurse’s office, gaping at the people in front of her.

“Oh. My. God.” She squeals. “You finally spoke to him.”

“Enid…” You can already hear the secrets that are about to be shared and the things she’s going to say to embarrass you, as if you preordered them. God it would be useful if I could pre-hear what Enid was going to say. That way I could embarrass her before she gets a chance.

“It was about time. I didn’t really want to hear ‘Oh my god,’” She puts on an impression of you. “E, I wanna talk to Ro so much but I don’t know how to start a conversation with him. I’ve written so many stupid letters it’s insane.’” She grins at her impression, clearly proud of her accuracy and success in embarrassing you.

Your face goes red when Rowan’s face appears in your line of vision. He’s smiling softly and his head is tilted so he can see you.

“Ro?” He asks, a light blush sitting on his cheeks.

“Thank you so much, Enid.” You say sarcastically. “I’m walking Rowan to his dorm now. I’ll meet you back at my dorm.”

“Okay then! Have fun! I’m sure all that kissing practice will come in handy now.” She winks and skips away humming, a bag of soft drinks and snacks swinging from her hand.

“Oh my god, please ignore her, she lies for fun.” You turn away from him to hide your face. Enid didn’t waste one second.

“You called me Ro?” Turn around and look at him Y/N for God’s sake. Stop being a coward. You turn back to him, and his soft smile is gone. Instead, a smile wider than you’ve ever seen on him is on his face. How has my face gotten even hotter??

“Maybe…” You smile back, beginning to walk down the hallway. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No…” He mumbles shyly. “I like it… I’ve never had a nickname before.”

“Seriously?? Your family never gave you one?”

“I don’t count ‘Ro-barb’ as a nickname. Courtesy to my mother and her… odd choice to nick name me after a rhubarb.”

“What?” You chuckle. “I think that’s adorable. My one wasn’t any better, I got called “Pumpkin-Bumpkins” by my sister for 6 years straight. And still counting.”

“Still counting?”

“Yep. If you meet her at the parents day she will ruffle your hair.” Using your unoccupied hand, you reach up and ruffle his hair with the most aggression you can. Gotta make it seem like the real thing. “Just. Like. That”. You draw your hand back, smiling. He really does look adorable when his hair is messy.

“She must be an older sister then.” He says, returning the smile again. “Will she really do it that aggressively?”

“If you thought that was aggressive, you’re in for a treat,” You make a turn onto some stairs as you talk. “and you’re right. She’s about 20 now. She used to come here. Mind reader. One-of-a-kind.” You wave your hand around dramatically.

“I’ve never heard of a mind reader Nevermore student.”

“Yep. Would’ve been cool if I got her powers. All I got was some shit I can’t control.”

“You can’t control your powers?”

“Nope. I don’t even know what they are. So far I’ve… accidentally set fire to my desk at my Normie school- the one I was at before I transferred here, because I was stressed about a surprise test, smashed a glass souvenir with my mind because I was disappointed that I got expelled from said Normie school, and some other stuff.”

“Like throwing me across the room with your mind?”

You stop and gape at him.

I forgot I would need to have this conversation.

“Surely you didn’t believe that I thought a fencing sword did that damage.”

“Aren’t you mad?” You ask cautiously. All this work to get to a friendly point with him is about to go out of the window…

“Are you kidding? From your reaction I assumed that you had no idea what you were doing. Of course I’m not mad.” He stated matter-of-factly. “I could never be mad at you.” He mutters the last part under his breath.

“What was that?” You ask, a teasing tone to your voice.

“Nothing…”

“Right… anyway, it’ll happen less. I’m taking extra lessons so we can figure out what the hell is going on. Hopefully I stop sending you flying across the room.” You wink at him.

He laughs nervously, his cheeks turning a light pink.

“Well if you need some more help… I’m here? I mean, I can’t help as much as the teachers can but I can help in some way.”

He stops walking and stands out the front of a dorm door, letting go of your hand. You can’t help but feel slightly disappointed.

“This is my room… um… thank you, Y/N. For everything you did Today. That includes throwing me across the room.”

You laugh.

“You’re welcome, Ro.” You watch his face go slightly redder at the use of the nickname and you smile at him. “And thank you, for the help offer. I’ll definitely take you up on it, especially if it means I get to spend more time with you.”

Smooth Y/N. Good job.

“That’s great then! I’ll um… see you around.” He opens his door but you put your hand on top of his, which was resting on the doorknob.

“Wait… sorry if this is sudden, but can I,” You take a breath in. I won’t get a yes if I don’t ask. “Can I get your phone number?”

Silence. He looks down at your hand that’s still resting on his and you pull it back. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him. You’re about to apologise but he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Just um… just give me a second. I don’t have it memorised.”

You pull your phone out and hand it to him. He pushes his glasses, which had fallen down a bit, up higher on his nose. Every single thing that this man does leaves you weak at the knees. Surely it’s not healthy to love the way someone does every little thing. Like the way he takes his blazer off when the Greenhouse gets too hot. Or the reflection his glasses leave on the walls, tables and floors when the sun shines on it. Or the way he loops his handwriting when taking notes. You’re completely starstruck by him, but are you complaining?

It takes you a while to realise that he’s done. He holds the phone out to you, waiting for you to take it.

“I’ve also put my instagram in there… I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh! No that’s okay, I’ll follow you right now.” You tap the ‘request follow’ button on his profile and look back up at him.

“Wait… stand still.” You open the camera app and point the camera at him.

“I need a contact photo for you… smile! You can take one of me too.” He smiles awkwardly. It catches his personality perfectly.

“Can’t we… take a selfie?”

“That’s an even better idea! Come.” You pull him close and wrap an arm around his shoulders, holding up the peace sign. It’s your go-to pose, as is most people’s. Rowan looks up at the camera and smiles again, but this smile seems more genuine. You can’t help but notice the light touch of pink lingering on his face. It ties the photo together well.

You send the photo to him and finally say goodbye, feeling happier than you have in a long time.

“You guys are so cute.”

“AH WHAT THE FUCK.”

Enid laughs.

“How long have you been there? I thought I was meeting you at my dorm?”

“I got bored so I decided to catch up with you.”

“Did you even make it to my dorm?”

“No.” She says, holding the bag up so it’s level with her face. “I got bored.”

“Okay. Fair enough.”

“So… you and Rowan, huh?”

“Oh come on. We’re just friends.”

“You held hands.” She points out.

“We hold hands.”

“Point taken.”

__________________________________________

After making sure the door was closed, Rowan leans against it, sliding down to sit on the floor, the photo that Y/N sent to him open on his phone. Someone wants to be my friend. Someone actually wants to be my friend!

It’s been far too long since Rowan had made a friend. He’d tried- of course he had tried. But he had zero luck, so he believed he was destined to be an outcast.

Until someone showed up with their perfectly enchanting smile and threw him across a room.

“What was all that about?”

Rowan scrambled to his feet, turning his phone off as fast as he could.

“Oh. Hi. I thought you were at fencing.”

“Just came back.” Xavier throws his helmet onto his bed and takes a seat at his desk.

You can see the complete difference in personalities between Rowan Laslow and Xavier Thorpe just by looking at their shared room. It’s split almost perfectly down the center, with two desks on the same wall. Xavier’s desk looks like the rest of his room- there’s clutter everywhere; clothes, books, pencils, a towel draped over his chair, his school bag sitting messily on the floor, and his bed is unmade. Rowan’s side however is much neater. His books are stacked neatly in a bookshelf, his drawers contain all of his clothes, cleaned and folded, his pencils and pens are ordered neatly in pencil holders, and his bag is sitting on a shelf above his shoe rack.

They could not be more different. Which is exactly why Rowan is in full belief that he and Xavier Thorpe will never be able to get along as friends.

“So. What was that all about?”

A/N:

Hi! The alternative I had drafted was one where Xavier opened the door and saw Y/N and Rowan before he let go of your hand, and started teasing you guys. If you’d like the alternative let me know!

I’m also planning to build a friendship with Rowan and Xavier, and I’d like to put Wenclair in this fic but I don’t want to upset people who don’t ship them, so I’ll think about it before I add them.

This wasn’t proof read, so I’m sorry if it’s got any errors.

Hope you enjoyed :)

- Kai

[dissvicious]

Listen Kidd is probably the worst fucking person to ever look over kids I am aware, but I can easily see him becoming the triplets favorite guy ever (ironically, because Law tries his best to be a good influence and they all can’t stand him at first to some extent)

Worst guy ever.

Rory starts sobbing out of nowhere?„Why’s he crying?“ „You think a drag of my blunt would calm him down-„ „NO!“

Blaze holding his hands up to Bepo going „Beep-Boop!“? Bepo is delighted „Eeeeee so cute! I’m his uncle Beep-Boo-„ „THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL MY FRIEND YOU LITTLE SHIT?“

Skye toddles up to him and gives him a kiss on the cheek? „Agh! Don’t do that you little slut.“ „SHE’S THREE YEARS OLD DONT CALL HER A SLUT!!!“

And yet he’s their favorite because he’ll see them bang on the table with their tiny hands, making the glasses jump and getting cigarette ashes everywhere, but doesn’t go „Ohh oh no kid don’t do that.“ but just gives them the horns and goes „Yeaaah! Fuck it up you little punk! Killer get a load of this little anarchist here!“

Yes. 100%. Totally. Listen Red and Bugs definitely shouldn't ask him to watch their kids but..... the others would tame him a little right ?.... and they really need alone time (not to cook another bunch of triplets - they're done with that for a little while, Rory Skye and Blaze are good contraceptives - no just to sleep and shower) so... you know hey fuck off let's give the punk a try ok. (This OR they still aren't aware Kid is here when GROAR come for babysitting. When they discover it they threat to fire the messy band but too bad their three little goblins hyper attached to them already!)

Oh gosh this crossover has SO MANY DELIGHTFUL POTENTIAL my dear anon.

I think that Law would be Rory's favorite tho. Because. Obviously. Later, when Rory will be a teen, they would sigh and rant together over the global stupidity of people around them. And how amazing would it be if Law became his mentor figure like Corazon was for him? The clown cycle would repeat.

Osha are the parent's favorite because... Responsabilities and kindness much. Being the older sibling and then a cook for the Whitebeard concert hall , having to deal with this young rookie named Ace and making him eat vegetables teached them a thing or two. Even under the REALLY BAD INFLUENCE of Kid they always do a bunch of meal prep and clean all the flat before Bugs and Red come back. Immediately gaining points. (Without them they definitely wouldn't have any contract in the cross guild label, they and killer are the dogs, Law and Kid are the cheetahs. They are the big buff enby Law need to release, when he has to violently scream out his angst he does it in their chest - oh I have to draw this.)

And I think that Killer is the best babysitter because dealing with his boyfriend 24/7 is already babysitting let's be honest.

Ending this post by saying. Listen this is modern AU but devil fruit and stuff still exist, chopper would still be a reindeer, not taking the fun out of one piece here ok. Now. In this AU it's Kid who gave his devil fruit to Blaze. Just for fun.

[bi-bard]

Bad Omens Songs that Would Describe Relationships with the Murder Husbands - Murder Husbands Preference (Hannibal)

Title: Bad Omens Songs that Would Describe Relationships with the Murder Husbands

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Word Count: 3,159 words

Warning(s): (Will's) mention of murder/Will's time in prison, (Hannibal's) abandonment, insecurity, mention of shitty parent

Author's Note: I was gonna take a break from these because I've written a lot of them...

and then "Just Pretend" popped up on my TikTok fyp (a lot) and now we're here.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

-------------------------

Will Graham:

Just Pretend

I can wait for you at the bottom I can stay away if you want me to I can wait for years if I gotta Heaven knows I ain't getting over you

--Third Person--

Will understood why (Y/n) was hesitant to visit him in prison.

They had almost been more protective of Abigail than he was. (Y/n) had gathered college brochures, bought books, and would sit with Abigail for hours on end in the hopes of her not getting too lonely. They adored her. Thinking that they had lost her due to Will's actions made a wall come up between them.

That wasn't counting the other murder charges that were stacked against him.

(Y/n) felt stupid. Like they had missed signs. But even now, as they looked back at their friendship and romantic relationship with Will, they couldn't see the signs of what they were claiming he was.

Will still missed them. Understanding one's actions didn't change how much he missed them. He missed being kissed so gently, being held with no hesitation, the small date nights, the time spent making dinner, running around with the dogs. He missed it all. He missed being loved with no conditions.

(Y/n) didn't visit until Alana had begged them.

She thought it would help Will make steps toward restoring his memories.

(Y/n) relented, sitting opposite Will for the first time since he had been arrested.

The pair didn't exchange any pleasantries. They sat in a tense silence. If Will was nervous about seeing (Y/n) again, it didn't show on his face. (Y/n)'s nervousness was much clearer; a shaking leg, awkward attempts to take a deep breath, and fidgeting hands.

"I had a dream about you," Will confessed after a while. (Y/n) tilted their head a bit. "I woke up at home. Our home. You were in the kitchen making breakfast, sneaking food to the dogs. I walked out and wrapped my arms around you. And you relaxed. It was all so... normal."

There was a sadness in (Y/n)'s eyes that made Will want to jump across the table and hold them. He craved nothing more than the freedom to hold and protect them. That's what he missed most while he had been locked away. Even dreams couldn't perfectly recreate the feeling of being loved by (Y/n).

"I love-"

"Please don't say that," (Y/n) begged.

It hurt too much. Those three words. Maybe it was because they were still true for both of them.

Will just nodded.

He didn't know how he was going to get out yet. For now, he could accept not having (Y/n). He could wait to kiss them and love them until they knew they could trust him again. Until he had figured out a way to take care of Hannibal.

Will could resign himself to his dreams if that was what (Y/n) truly wanted.

bad decisions

You can be all I got what's the difference? You and me and a lot of bad decisions All I know, all I know is bad, bad decisions

I leaned on the train railing, watching the scenery fly behind us.

I didn't move when I heard the door open behind me.

"It's freezing out here."

I looked over at Will. He didn't walk over to me until I did. I felt his arms find their place around my torso, leaning against my back. I touched his arm with one hand, drawing circles with my thumb.

My eyes closed for a moment as he pressed a kiss to the spot behind my ear.

"Are you okay," he asked.

I didn't respond. I just took a deep breath.

"(Y/n)."

"I... I just... I can't stop thinking about that body in that house," I mumbled.

He knew what I was talking about. The man that had been locked in Hannibal's childhood home. The one that we had hung from the ceiling. The image was burned into my eyelid.

"We didn't have a right to be that man's executioner."

"He wasn't living a life," Will replied. "He was locked in a cell. He was miserable."

I sighed, running my hand over my face.

He tightened his arms around me when I didn't respond to him.

"Sometimes I worry about what I'm willing to do for you," I admitted.

"For me?"

"I couldn't have imagined doing something like that before you," I muttered. "Or the Randall Tier situation. I confronted a cannibalistic serial killer by myself and basically told him to fuck himself. I... I can't imagine anyone I'd take those risks for other than you."

There was a pause. "Do you regret it?"

I turned in his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck. "That's the worst part. No. Not even a bit. The number of things I'd do for you... it scares me."

His jaw clenched for a moment. "Enough to leave?"

I paused. I wanted to say no. I wanted to immediately promise to never leave him. But I was nervous. What happened if he did push me too far and I couldn't pull myself back? I didn't want to hurt him. I just wanted to be self-aware.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to my neck again. I tilted my head to the side a bit, giving him more access to my skin.

"No," I mumbled to him, my hand finding its way to his hair.

He moved back, stopping directly in front of me, nose brushing my skin. He didn't close the distance between us yet.

"I'm not leaving you, Will," I promised. "Ever."

He gently kissed me after that.

"I love you."

If I'm There

Well if I'm there to catch you when you fall You'll have a friend down in hell after all And if you're there to catch me when I fall Then maybe hell ain't so bad after all

I had known Will for a while.

He was guarded, so was I. Even then, there was something so magnetic about him that I never saw in myself. Maybe it was the dry, sarcastic sense of humor. Or just how interesting every conversation with him could be.

I would never have been able to keep myself from falling for him if I wanted to.

Maybe that's why I had agreed to have a drink with him as fast as I did.

As I sat opposite him, slowly sipping at whatever I had been drinking at the time, I found my mind fading back to conversations with Alana. Concerns about what could happen if Will and I got involved with each other.

And the more I thought about it, the longer I spent sitting across from him, the less I found myself caring about those consequences.

I saw no reason for either one of us to go through our personal hells alone.

I must've been staring.

"What's on your mind," Will asked. I blinked a few times, pulling myself out of my thoughts. "You're staring. I'm trying to figure out if I should find it flattering or not."

I think he expected me to chuckle at him. But I didn't.

"We're close, right," I asked, placing my glass down. Will copied me.

He nodded.

"We tell each other almost everything. We care for each other."

"Why are you asking?"

I stood up and stepped forward, leaving myself just in front of him. He looked up at me, shifting forward in his seat slightly. I reached out, touching the side of his face gently.

"(Y/n)?"

"Can I kiss you, Will?"

The question hung in the air for a few moments.

His eyes scanned my face. Like he was looking for a sign of something. I don't know what.

"Will-"

"Please."

His voice was soft. His back straightened, getting as close to my face as he could without standing up from his seat and making me move.

I leaned down, gently pressing my lips to his.

His hand touched my sides as he kissed me back. He was more passionate than I had been originally. His hands pulled me closer, leading me to straddle him in his seat.

I pulled back for a moment, just moving back enough to chuckle a bit. I heard Will chuckle back to me before kissing me again.

I felt his hands barely graze the skin under my shirt.

I leaned back again, smiling down at him. "I love you, Will."

He smiled back to me. God, I would give anything to see him smile like that all the time. "I love you too."

Hannibal Lecter:

Miracle

So give me something beautiful So give me something else I need another miracle I really need some help, I need a miracle

I never wanted Hannibal to see me cry.

It wasn't because I thought he would mock me. No, quite the opposite. I didn't want him to pity me.

We had been good friends for a few years at that point. We had gone through so long without him having to worry about me. I was so committed to keeping things that way.

But here I was, leaning on the window ledge of the small place I was staying in and sobbing into my hand. Hannibal walked in as I was. He placed his things on the floor by my door, quickly walking over to hug me.

"What happened," he asked quietly.

I shook my head, trying to avoid the topic.

"(Y/n)," he said, moving back and cupping the sides of my face. "What happened?"

"I met my mom for lunch today," I explained. "She... She was just so mean."

A fresh wave of tears fell from my eyes.

"She just kept going on about how much better my life could be if I had listened to her. How dumb I was. How disappointed she was. How I could improve my appearance. It was all just so... much."

Hannibal didn't speak. Didn't push or ask questions or try to solve things. He was just listening.

"I don't know why I went. She already cut me off. I shouldn't have gone. It's my fault."

"No," Hannibal shook his head, thumb running along my cheek. "It's not your fault. You had hope."

"She's always been like this," I muttered. "She so desperately wanted me to grow into her dream version of me. I... I left because it got too much. I thought her methods were going to kill me."

I moved away, causing Hannibal's hands to fall from my face. I looked out at the city that I could see from my window.

"Why couldn't I have made her happy," I asked. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Hannibal stepped away, moving to his bag. I looked over when I heard him moving. He walked back over with a book in his hand. I furrowed my eyebrows, tilting my head to the side.

He opened the book, flipping to a page quickly before handing it to me. I accepted it.

"That's..."

My sentence trailed off. It was me. A drawing of me. It was only pencil, yet the detail was enough to compare to a photo.

"It... It's lovely," I complimented, my finger tracing the edge of the paper. I forced a chuckle. "You've taken a few liberties with my appearance, I see."

"No," Hannibal corrected. He stepped closer. The only thing truly separating us was the book. "It's how I see you. You may not see the same thing, but this is how I truly see you."

"But it's so... nice."

"Yes."

I looked back at him.

And for the first time, I didn't feel like anyone was judging me. I felt like I was able to just exist. And it was the most beautiful thing I had ever experienced.

Hannibal took the book from my hands, closing it again.

I barely registered anything happening before his lips found mine. I didn't know what to do. I tried to kiss him back, but my mind and my body couldn't seem to react together. My thoughts were going a thousand miles per second, but my body felt frozen.

"Have I overstepped," Hannibal asked softly, one hand resting on my cheek as he leaned back.

"No," I shook my head. "I've just never felt so much like I have nothing to worry about. No one to judge me."

"I promise," he mumbled, "I will never hold you to some standard of my own. I will never make my love for you conditional."

"'Love'," I repeated.

A grin pulled at his lips. "Yes, love."

And at that moment, I thought I could survive on such love alone.

Said & Done

Was I not good enough? Worthy of being loved? Were you ashamed or just afraid? Well when I've given up and all is said and done Will you just look the other way?

The first time I saw him, it was at work.

I couldn't say anything. He had been introduced to me as Dr. Fell. I couldn't stop and yell at him like I wanted to. I just had to go about my day like the man that had abandoned me wasn't so close to me.

It wasn't until later that night, that I managed to track him down on his own.

The door to the room closed behind me. Down the aisle of artifacts was a table. Hannibal was on the other side, looking over something that I didn't bother to actually look at.

"Hannibal."

"Hello, (Y/n)."

He didn't even look up. He merely acknowledged me with his words like that was meant to be flattering.

"'Hello,'" I asked. "You ran off for decades and all you have for me is a 'Hello'?"

He stood up straight, looking at me for a moment before quickly shifting his gaze from mine. Guilt? Was that what that look was? Hannibal had gotten so good at hiding his expressions that it was hard to tell.

"Where did you go," I stepped forward, only stopping when I got to the other side of the table. "What happened? You left me completely alone. I deserve an answer."

"Closure is often more myth than anything," Hannibal explained. "The chanced of us ever getting answers that satisfy-"

"I don't care," I snapped. "I want to know what happened. Why did I wake up one day to find you gone? What had I done so wrong to force you to leave?"

"You had nothing to do with me leaving," he replied. "You were my biggest obstacle."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"After what happened... the murder investigation... I couldn't stay," he continued. "I thought about a hundred ways to tell you. None of them were going to have the effect I wanted."

"So you abandoned me instead?"

"I am sorry," he said, walking around the table. He stopped just in front of me. "I'm very, very sorry."

"Why come back now," I muttered. "Because I know it's not for me."

"How can you be so certain?"

"You would've found me. And you would've never bothered with the stolen identity."

He looked to the floor.

"What were you running from?"

He didn't speak. He just looked back at me.

His hand came up to cup the side of my face. I let my eyes close as I leaned into his hand. It had been so long. Too long to hold onto the same anger that I held back then.

I didn't know what to call it anymore. If it was anger or sadness or just confusion. I stopped caring a long time ago.

"Hannibal..."

He shushed me gently. "Not now. We can discuss such things later."

"When you leave again?"

"You never were an optimist."

"Can you blame me?"

"Never."

I took a deep breath just as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine for the first time in, what felt like, a lifetime.

If I still held anger, it started disappearing.

Because with him, I truly didn't care.

Broken Youth

I'd give anything for something To feel anything at all It just seems so goddamn meaningless It all seems so devolved

Being with Hannibal was, above all else, an escape.

An escape from whatever cruelness the world saw fit for the day.

That was often my first thought when I was lucky enough to wake up and see him lying next to me. There was simply something very comforting about waking up and seeing him there.

He was still there.

He chose to still be there.

"What are you thinking about," he asked.

We were lying on my kind of crappy mattress in my little place. The sheets were pulled over us. Hannibal's hand was cupping the side of my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone slowly. I was fighting the urge to fall asleep again.

"You," I confessed.

"Is that so," his lips formed an amused grin.

"Yeah," I muttered. "I have yet to feel as safe with anyone as I do with you. It's like when I'm here with you, nothing else can get to us. I don't have to be worried about anything else. The world could be burning around us, and I don't know if I'd be able to care if I was with you. We can just... exist here."

His smile turned less amused and more caring.

"That sounded so dumb," I mumbled, rolling onto my back, causing his hand to fall from my cheek as I did.

Hannibal rolled over to follow me, his hand finding its way to my skin again.

He studied my face for a few moments before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. My hands moved to touch his sides as I slowly kissed him back.

It was slow and gentle. It was verging on lazy.

I felt a fuzzy feeling tickling the back of my mind. That was what I meant when I said he was my escape. I could just forget everything and enjoy being with him. I had never felt like that with someone. I couldn't tell if he tried to make me feel like this, or if it was simply a byproduct of being with him.

I don't think I truly cared.

I had to fight the urge to whine as he leaned away.

"I don't find your thoughts dumb," he mumbled to me. His finger had moved to trace a small section of my hairline. "They never could be."

I almost scoffed at him.

"I love you," he added.

It made me freeze for a moment.

No matter how many times I had heard those words come from his lips, they still caught me off guard.

"My dear-"

"I love you too," I whispered.

I would've done anything to hold onto him. To hold onto this feeling. It was perfect to me. Calming and gentle and perfect. I could only hope that Hannibal saw us the same way that I did.

The world was cruel and awful.

Being with Hannibal simply made all of that worth it.

-------------------------

Author's Note: I need you all to know that Hannibal's was half-written, deleted, and redone completely.

-------------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[maithefluffychicken]

True Colors

Rated T, Geraskier, DnD, getting together, coming out, fluffy fluff stuff. Ao3 link. Enjoy!

"Ok, your turn, bard," Geralt asks him, smirking. "What are you gonna do?"

Jaskier smirks back at him, very smugly, looking at Geralt and leaning in just so.

"I'm gonna roll for Vicious Mockery, let the bard save the day again, huh?" He grins, rolling the dice between his fingers… Long and slender fingers that have their nails polished with the rainbow’s colours and that are not distracting Geralt at all.

The whole group gasps when the dice stop rolling and…

"No fucking way!" Lambert yells, hands flying to his head.

"Holy shit YES!" Exclaims Eskel at the same time.

"Fucking bard and his stupid good luck with the dices!" Laughs Aiden.

The dice is showing them a natural 20. Perfect score. When Geralt talks again over the laughs and yelling of their friends, his voice is full of emotion and he talks faster than ever.

"Dandelion the Bard looks at the Elf King dead in the face and he starts singing solemnly, casting Vicious Mockery while strumming his lute. Dandelion?”

Jaskier improvises a rhyme and a silly tune for the delight of his friends.

Geralt can’t hide his own smile, his best friend is gorgeous like this, just having fun while playing DnD with a bunch of misfits; Jaskier could spend his time with someone much better than them, any girl of their class would be delighted to be in a date with Jaskier, and yet…

“He thrust every elf/

Far back on the shelf/

High up on the mountain/

From whence it came/”

Jaskier sings with a deep, rich voice, and Geralt wants to be annoyed by his antics… But the game is still on.

Lambert and Eskel snort and Aiden just shakes his head, smiling and leaning over Lambert.

“The Elf King looks at you and draws his sword, but your Vicious Mockery…”

“And my amazing Nat20.”

“And your impressive Nat20, yes… Are too strong for him and he falls on his knees, dropping his sword… Aiden, roll for acrobatics! While the bard was singing and melting the King’s brain, you’ve been surrounded by elves: three warriors and two archers…”

—

To eat the greasiest pizza after their DnD session is a sacred tradition… A sacred tradition that his brothers are now ignoring in favour of, well, get laid, Geralt supposes.

Eskel left them in a hurry, arguing that he had a date with Triss, his long-live crush, and that he wanted to impress her at the Arcade, and soon after, Lambert and Aiden left together, no explanations given, Aiden had just smiled at them shyly and waved his hand in goodbye.

Leaving Geralt alone with, well, with Jaskier.

That is not a problem itself, Jaskier decided long ago that Geralt was his best friend and somehow, that he was Geralt’s best friend too. At first, Geralt was baffled by the whole thing: a stray kid, adopted along with two other boys by a single father, leaving almost in the middle of nowhere, they all were misfits, outcasts… and the brightest, loudest, happiest kid Geralt ever known just decided that they should be best friends.

That was ten years ago, give or take. Geralt can’t remember the exact moment when he thought about Jaskier as his best friend, after trying once and again to scare the younger boy away. 

And now… Well, now Geralt was feeling rather odd around Jaskier. Not angry at him, nor upset. But… suddenly shy, everytime he found Jaskier looking at him, or worse, blushing whenever Jaskier casually touched him in the arm or whatever.

Being alone with Jaskier is both thrilling and terrifying, and Geralt feels tense and hot all over his body watching the boy licking his fingers clean after finishing a portion of pizza. His lips glisten under the dim light of the shitty pizza joint they both love. 

“Geralt, dear, you’re staring, do I have something…?” Jaskier says, and licks his lips. Geralt follows hungrily the path of his pink tongue lapping those full, pouty lips.

“N-no, you’re ok, I was just…” Geralt stutters.

I was just wondering how it would be if I kissed you, his not-at-all-helpful mind supplies. Jaskier is still looking at him, smiling fondly, and Geralt feels petrified by those bright, ice blue eyes.

“This pizza is not that good to render you speechless, Geralt,” Jaskier laughs. “Or are you thinking about my Nat20 again?”

Geralt snorts at last, looking away to avoid Jaskier’s natural spells.

“Huh, Jaskier, that was just luck,” Geralt teases.

“Knowing how to play and they call it luck,” Jaskier replies, shrugging and smiling. “It was, as you said yourself, impressive.”

Geralt shrugs too. 

“Well, ok, it was, are you happy?”

“Very.” Jaskier’s smile widens and Geralt… Geralt wants to make Jaskier very happy again, he just doesn’t know how to. So he changes the topic.

“Hey, what’s with your fingernails?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier eyes widen in fear and he looks at his hands like he hadn’t realised that they were there the whole time.

“Oh fuck, I just forgot about them after…”

“Hm?” 

“I-I need to go! I’m sorry!”

Jaskier stands up and takes his backpack and rushes to leave, almost bumping into a young couple in his run.

“What… Jaskier! Wait!”

-

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

Jaskier had forgotten completely about his stupid rainbow nail polish after the gig; it had been the first year that he was able to perform at the Pride and he was so freaking happy to be able to play and sing for an audience like him.

He was still floating about it two days after, and he arrived to Geralt’s place to play DnD without realising that his nails were still proudly showing the rainbow flag.

And now he was running away from his best friend, scratch that, running away from the love of his short life, and feeling the tears running down his flushed cheeks.

He was still inside the closet for his dearest friend. Of the Morhen boys, Eskel was the first one to know, basically because he found Jaskier crying his heart out when Geralt started dating Yennefer, a girl from his class. So Jaskier confessed his love for Eskel’s brother then, and Eskel held him tight until he stopped crying.

That happened two years ago, when Jaskier was just fifteen and was still discovering his own body and feelings. And boy, he discovered how much a broken heart hurts.

Then, not long ago, was Jaskier who stepped in to find Lambert and his very dear friend Aiden making out in the Morhen’s green-house. Lambert and Aiden were petrified in fear and Jaskier had to confess himself and to promise them that he would never get them out and that he would help the younger boys to hide their romance until they were ready.

That was how Jaskier found in the younger of the Morhen brothers a fierce protector and a dear friend.

But Geralt…

Jaskier couldn’t get out in front of Geralt. He’s his best friend, more than that, Geralt is more important to Jaskier than anything else, Jaskier doesn’t want to lose him, and…

And it’s not like Geralt will reject him because of his sexual orientation, no, Geralt has never showed a hint of hate towards the queer community; no, Jaskier is afraid that if Geralt knows about Jaskier being, well, gay or bi or pan or whatever, Jaskier is still discovering that… Jaskier is afraid that Geralt will know about his feelings for him.

Jaskier is barely able to hide his love for Geralt now, shielded by Geralt’s wrong assumption about Jaskier being straight. The moment Geralt realises Jaskier is attracted to men too… Geralt will know. And Geralt will politely say to him that his love is unrequited. And then Geralt will stop being his friend just as he’s stopped being friends with Yennefer after their break up, and Fringilla before Yennefer, and Keira before Fringilla… Geralt doesn’t believe in being friends with those that want him. 

Jaskier can’t have that.

Jaskier would not let that happen.

“Jaskier!”

Geralt is running after him, and fuck, he’s fast.

“Geralt, please, I need to go!” Jaskier yells back at him, people avoiding them and watching them in confusion.

“Ok but.. I’ll call you later to check that you’re safe at home…” Geralt says loudly, and when Jaskier looks over his shoulder to look at him, Geralt is not running anymore, just looking at him with the saddest expression ever.

Jaskier stops running too.

He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, his backpack is heavy and tugs at his shoulders, and his lungs - used to sing for hours - hurts with the need to scream and cry.

He’s so tired.

He looks at his coloured nails again, the rainbow flag he’s so proud of seems like it’s making fun at him, now. But no, he’s the one making fun of the flag, he’s the one hurting himself.

June is the month to be proud of who we are. June is the month to be honest.

If Geralt doesn’t want to be his friend because he has feelings for him, well, then maybe Geralt is not his best friend after all.

It’s going to hurt, Jaskier knows it, but this constant lie is hurting him too.

Jaskier turns back to where Geralt is standing, his pained expression doing things to Jaskier’s heart. The extremely blond boy is just looking at him with concern and hope and by the way Geralt is clenching his fists, Jaskier knows Geralt wants to reach him.

“Geralt…” He whispers, his voice breaking. A lump in his throat is threatening him with more crying.

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt says instead. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m so sorry, I never wanted to upset you.”

Geralt takes a step closer to Jaskier, and good lord, why is everything so difficult? How can they be in this situation now? They argue a lot of times, for a lot of things, but Jaskier has never felt this scared before, nor has seen his friend this sad because of him, apparently.

“It’s not… It’s not your fault… It’s… Can we please go back to your house?” 

-

Geralt drives them back home, in silence.

He adores silence, it’s so difficult to find a moment of peace in his house, with Lambert being always a mouthy bastard and arguing about everything, and Eskel’s constant chattering and teasing and… And with Jaskier.

Loud, noisy Jaskier, always talking about fucking everything, always singing or humming for fuck’s sake. Jaskier, who is unable to be silent for more than five minutes, the boy even talks during his sleep, always with so much to say to the world.

Now, Jaskier is not talking, nor humming. He’s just sitting by his side during the short ride to Geralt’s house. And Geralt hates the silence.

His best friend has his eyes red and puffy, silent tears running down his cheeks, and Geralt is doing his best to just don’t reach and wipe them away gently and to promise Jaskier that everything is going to be fine, even if Geralt can’t understand what the fuck is happening.

Once at home again, Geralt leads Jaskier to his room and rushes to prepare tea for both of them. When in distress, prepare tea. Drink it, and then carry on. That’s what Vesemir says.

“Thank you,” says Jaskier with a soft, broken voice. It’s so wrong, Jaskier should be always happy, singing and chirping and…

“It’s a rainbow flag,” he adds, stopping Geralt’s thoughts.

“”What?”

“My fingernails. I painted them like this for… the Pride,” Jaskier explains, but he sounds off, scared even. Scared of what, Geralt doesn’t know. 

“Hm,” he answers, with a lack of something better to say.

“I… I played there, with Priss and Essi, for… for the Pride concerts, we applied and they… wanted us there…”

“That’s great!” Geralt exclaims and startles Jaskier, who clings to his cup tightly. “You three have been doing great with your band, of course they wanted you there! Why didn’t you tell us? We could have gone!”

Somehow, to say that, to… to offer Jaskier his support, makes Jaskier sobs harder, and Geralt wishes to know what to do.

"What? Jaskier, what…?"

"Geralt, it was the Pride!" Jaskier whines.

"Yeah, you just said that."

"Do you know what it is… Do you know what the rainbow flag means?" Jaskier asks, looking at him with panic in his eyes. 

Geralt looks at him, at his pouty lips now wet, and back again at his glistening, weeping blue eyes.

"Hm," Geralt needs a moment to think about something that is not kissing Jaskier. It's not easy, the need to comfort his friend and to reassure him is too strong. But he manages.

Rainbow flag. Yeah, that rings a bell, he has seen that flag, somewhere. He thinks Aiden, Lambert's best friend, has some stickers and such with it, and other flags with different colours.

Oh.

Oh.

"Yes, yes of course I know what it means, Jaskier," Geralt answers, feeling delirious. I just didn't want to hope.

"And?" Jaskier asks, expectantly. "Geralt, it was not a simple gig, we weren't there just because, but because Priss and Essi and I, we are… I am…"

Geralt kneels in front of him, and lets his hands rest on Jaskier's lap.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Geralt asks softly. "Were you afraid of me…? Did you think that I would… that I wouldn't want to be your friend anymore?"

Jaskier nods slowly, more tears spilling from his eyes.

"But not for the reason you think," Jaskier cries. "I know you would accept me as I am, but…"

Geralt's heart is breaking, watching his friend crying, sobbing hopelessly and thinking that Geralt could ever stop being his friend, for any reason at all… That's just absurd, because Geralt… he… He's in love with Jaskier and…

And Jaskier doesn't know it.

"Jaskier… Julek… it's ok, I'm here," Geralt promises, taking Jaskier's tea off his hands and hugging him, as tight as he can. Jaskier clings to him, sobbing.

"You'll hate me!" Jaskier cries, grabbing his shirt, and Geralt just… just can't.

"Never," Geralt reassures him. 

"You'll hate me because I love you!" Jaskier yells. "And you push away all of your ex girlfriends, so why would I be different?" 

Geralt freezes then, still holding Jaskier.

Jaskier loves him.

Jaskier loves him.

Flirty, flighty, social butterfly Jaskier, the boy who decided to be Geralt's best friend.

Bright, loud, noisy, wonderful Jaskier.

"It's… quite different," Geralt says at last and Jaskier snorts.

"It is, Jaskier, because… Because I…" Geralt takes a deep breath. "I love you too."

The last part is just a whisper, reverent, contained. It's a truth that he's been avoiding for years. 

Jaskier squirms until he can lock his blue eyes with Geralt's own.

"You mean… as a friend?" He asks.

Geralt smiles at him fondly and shakes his head slowly before leaning in, his eyes flicking from Jaskier's eyes to his lips. 

Jaskier's breath is warm against Geralt's lips, his skin is wet and a little clammy after all the crying and sobbing.

"Geralt…" Jaskier whispers, breathless.

"May I?"

Jaskier closes his eyes slowly, leaning in until he can find Geralt in the middle.

Their first kiss is chaste and shy and, well, not how Geralt would have imagined, not with Jaskier crying in fear and rushed confessions, but it's perfect, because it is Jaskier who is kissing him back.

Geralt reaches for Jaskier's hands and threads their fingers together.

"You had no idea what the rainbow or the Pride mean, right?" Jaskier asks, smiling wide, with his forehead resting on Geralt's shoulder.

"I thought you simply liked the…, what's it called? The colourful aesthetic." Geralt answers, shrugging, making Jaskier chuckle.

They stay like this for a while, Geralt studying Jaskier's painted nails and caressing his hands softly.

"You could paint mine," Geralt offers.

"Geralt…"

"Maybe for the Pride next year?" Geralt asks, hopeful. "I.. I could go there and see your gig…"

Jaskier kisses him again, less chaste, more hungrily, and Geralt can't suppress the growl that rises from the deep of his chest.

"I'd love that, my dearest."

-

“Ok, ok, Eskel, your turn…”

Jaskier can’t help but to look at Geralt in awe while he leads the party through the Dungeon; Geralt always seems happy and free during their DnD sessions, but lately he seems… resplandescent.

Geralt glances at him and smiles knowingly while Eskel keeps talking, and Jaskier’s heart does a somersault under his golden gaze. Gods, Geralt is going to be the death of him, and now that Jaskier knows his taste, his hunger, the caresses of his hands… 

“Hey, bard, wake up!” Lambert exclaims. Aiden is basically sitting on his lap, laughing softly. “Do your bard wiles!”

“C’mon, give us another Nat20, bard!” Eskel cheers.

Jaskier chuckles.

He takes the dice and rolls it over the table.

By his side, Geralt smiles at him, wide and unguarded, his hands at either side of the Master's screen, and every one of his fingernails are painted with the colours of the rainbow, to match Jaskier’s own hands. 

“Ok, dice, gimme a Nat20!”

[feyresdaughter]

A Court of Frost and Starlight, chapter 25-28:

I hadn’t even been back to the town house. Hadn’t even told Rhys. I’d woken at dawn, Rhys already off to meet with Az and Cassian at Devlon’s camp, and decided to hell with waiting. Putting life off didn’t make a lick of sense. I knew what I wanted. There was no reason to delay.

YES HONEY, YOU KNOW WHAT YOU WANT

I couldn’t stop the tears that blurred my vision. Couldn’t stop myself from remembering those years in that cottage, the hollow ache of hunger. The image of those three little containers of paint that I’d savored. “I didn’t know it existed,”I managed to whisper. Even with all the committees that I volunteered to help, they had not mentioned it. I didn’t know that there was a place, a world, where artists might be valued. Taken care of. I’d never dreamed of such a thing.

It's what she dreamed of as a human and now she can help the people who are in a similar situation as her 😭

Ressina asked, “So what are you going to do with it? The studio.” I surveyed the empty space before me. Not empty— waiting. And from far away, as if it was carried on the cold wind, I heard the Suriel’s voice. Feyre Archeron, a request. Leave this world a better place than how you found it.

She's making the world a better place 🥺

A minute passed by. Then two. “Come on,” Ressina muttered. “Perhaps they had the wrong time?” But as I said it, they emerged. Ressina and I held our breath as the pack of them rounded the corner, aiming for the studio. Ten children, High Fae and faerie, and some of their parents.

YASSSS I love it

If there were children who might not be able to talk about what they’d endured, but could perhaps paint or draw or sculpt it. Perhaps they wouldn’t do any of those things , but the act of creating something … it could be a balm to them. As it was for me. As it was for the weaver, and Ressina, and so many of the artists in this city.

No one and nothing can ever convince me that this is stupid. No anti in the whole wide world. It's amazing. Feyre took what helped her through hard times and made something bigger of it, helping many people

How soon do classes start? was the most frequent question. The close second being How much does it cost? Nothing. Nothing, we told them. It was free. No child or family would ever pay for classes here— or the supplies.

“Rough day at the office?”I pushed back a strand of my hair. Knowing it was likely streaked with blue paint. Since my fingers were covered in it. “You should see Ressina.”Indeed, she’d gone into the back moments ago to wash off a face full of red paint. Courtesy of one of the children, who’d deemed it a good idea to form a bubble of all the paint to see what color it would turn, and then float it across the room. Where it collided with her face.

Paint smeared Feyre being happy and enjoying life is my favorite Feyre

“They don’t take their paintings home?” - “These will dry first, but I asked her if she wanted me to keep this somewhere special. She said to throw it out.” Rhys’s eyes danced with worry. I said quietly, “I want to keep it. To put in my future office. So we don’t forget.”

She would never forget but it's adorable

Rhys helped me with my coat, stealing a kiss before we walked out into the sunny, frigid day

AWWWW SJM PLS YOU MAKE MY HEART FLUTTER

I linked my arm through his, nestling into his warmth. “It’s strange,”I murmured. Rhys angled his head. “What is?”I smiled. At him, at the Rainbow, at the city. “This feeling, this excitement to wake up every day. To see you, and to work, and to just be here.”

She's literally come so far and I'm so proud of my Feyre

So I leaned into him, into that unfailing strength, and said down the bond, "You make me so very happy. My life is happy, and I will never stop being grateful that you are in it." I looked up to find him not at all ashamed to have tears slipping down his cheeks in public. I brushed a few away before the chill wind could freeze them, and Rhys whispered in my ear, “I will never stop being grateful to have you in my life, either, Feyre darling. And no matter what lies ahead”—a small, joyous smile at that—“we will face it together. Enjoy every moment of it together.”

And even after that. "I love you," I said down the bond. "What’s not to love?" Before I could elbow him, Rhys kissed me again, breathless and swift.

Adorable fucking idiots

To the stars who listen, Feyre.

To the dreams that are answered, Rhys.

Acofas has such a Fairytale (Feyretale) ending and I love it

[boltupbitches]

Anti-Hero - Joey Bosa

He walked through the patio doors and out to the dock where is boat was tied up. There she was. His fiance. Sitting on the boat dock with her feet draped over the side, her bare feet swinging back and forth.

As he got closer and was about to yell for her, she had turned her head instinctively at the sound of footsteps approaching.

Her eyes widened and shock and the cigarette she very clearly had in her mouth dropped out and into the water below as she stared at him.

Joey was livid.

He was sure she broke that habit when she moved in with him after finishing college at OSU. Yet, here she was huffing away on a cigarette not far from him.

"What the fuck?!" He said loudly, stomping loudly now the rest of the way down the dock.

Just as she was standing and trying to tuck away her pack of cigarettes, frantically trying to hide what she had left.

Joey reached out quickly and snatched the pack from her hands, turning around and pitching the thing out into the water front.

She stared in shock at the rippling water where it sank. She turned back to Joey, now pissed off herself.

"Are you fucking serious, Joseph! That's fucking littering!"

"Yeah, well maybe you shouldn't be putting that cancer shit in your body! Are you fucking serious? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that I can do what I want and one fucking cigarette isn't the big of a deal!"

Joey scoffed loudly and turned around again to her, this time with a sarcastic smile. "One? Really just one? Try two, then three, and then it's a whole fucking pack, babe! That's how addiction works!"

"Says the guy who used to experiment with shit in college." She shot back.

"That's not fucking fair! I got into some stupid shit outside of the weed we smoked and I paid for it. I straightened that shit up and I no longer do any of that."

"Whatever, Joey. I'm glad you are now a reformed saint. Leave me the fuck alone now, please." She nudged past him, ready to stomp into the house and pout about it... even if he did have a valid point.

Joey wasn't going to let it go. "I'm not joking, babe. No more of that shit. You know how dangerous it can be to your lungs."

She turned around and pointed at him. "I know. I fucking know! I am tired and stressed and I just needed a moment to my goddamn self! I'm so sorry I smoked one cigarette for the first time in six years! Maybe think about asking why the fuck I am so god damn stressed that I'm resorting to smoking!"

Joey stared at her in confusion. "Why are you smoking again?"

His fiance stared back at him and blinked for a moment, expecting a rude or sarcastic retort instead. "Because I feel trapped in my career and I feel like between the two of us you have so much more to offer than me. I feel like people don't see me for me, but only what they want to see me as. I feel stressed about how I can't compare to your last girlfriend and how your mom still talks fondly about her in front of me at times. I feel stressed that your dad feels the need to make digs at me about my parents' political stances and how he believes I'm essentially mooching off you. I feel stressed that every time I go to bed I can't help but think that tomorrow will be the day you'll wake up and leave me because you've grown tired of my shit for the last time. It's me! I'm the problem, ok? It's fucking me!" She burst.

Joey stared at her in concern, his brain taking a moment to process each word she said before finally drawing her into his arms tightly. He pressed a kiss to her crown. "Babe.. what? No, you're not. You are not the fucking problem. Not in this relationship and not anywhere else." He rubbed her back, continuing to press kisses to her forehead.

"I love you," He said to her. "I love you so fucking much. I don't care about Josie. I don't care what my parents think about who I should or shouldn't be with. I don't fucking care anymore what they think. I'll for sure address that shit too as soon as I see either of them. I'm marrying you in a few months. No one else. You don't need to feel like the anti-hero."

She continued to cry silently, gripping him tightly around the waist, her face buried in the thin cotton t-shirt he was wearing.

Joey gently pushed her back, tilting her head up and pressing a kiss to her lips. "Let's go for a swim and relax today, ok? I'll handle my parents and then we'll talk about your career plans. I'll do whatever you want, babe."

She nodded and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I love you too." She said with a teary smile.

"And," he started with a smirk, "no more fucking cigarettes. You want to light up anything that's safer then I no a guy here in Fort Lauderdale and back in LA. Other than that, stay away from that shit, babe."

She nodded at that and started to walk back up the dock, her hand held out to grab his. "I actually just got a new bikini." She teased him.

Joey arched an eyebrow in interest, "Oh? Who said we need swimsuits? It's just us after all." He smirked suggestively.

She smiled back at him. "Well, if that's the case... Race you there!" She took off in a run.

Joey stood there for a few moments, letting her get some distance ahead before he took off after her.

'I fucking love this girl.' He thought happily to himself.