#something about heat and desire and sweat and summer activities

[sunnnfish]

I hate summer in real life but I love summer thematically

[dropofdrool]

What the night does to the day - Alex Turner x Reader

Summary: Alex can't sleep alone during a hot summer night, so he decides to call for his baby.

Warnings: mature content (read responsibly), fem!reader, masturbation - self giving, dirty talk

Word count: 2.7 k

!! This is my first time writing not in my native language, so I hope this doesn't affect anyone's reading. Also, for this reason I didn't want to write something particularly original, just my personal version of a common fantasy that I’ve been thinking of for some time.

~☀︎︎~

The night was soft. The air exuded humidity after the heavy downpour, and the heat was stirred by warm gusts of wind, like pants after an intense sex. Alex shuffled to the sill and pulled the window open, hoping to catch one of those fleeting whiffs. The air movement was like balm on his bare, sweaty skin, but left him even hotter than before. Even the last piece of cloth that covered his body ended up on the floor. There, it wouldn't have been more useful than on his body, but at least it wouldn't have been in his way. He lay down, spread eagle, on the bed with too heavy blankets. Oh, his lovely darling, she loved to keep the duvet even in the summer. In this way, she could bask herself in the softness of the sheets, as she rolled around naked in their softness. Since she'd left, he still hadn't had the heart to change them. Those sheets smelled like her perfume, sweat, humours, natural sweetness. 

He was so hot, it was unbearable. Another gust of breeze teased his legs, and he activated for a moment, hopeful, but then grunted in disappointment. He had wanted to delude himself that it was her hands touching him, delicate and relieving, but nothing. She wasn't there. For too long now.

Come on, she's been away for just three days. Just? No one had touched him for three days, and that was beginning to affect his body. She used to touch him often, and for him it had almost turned into an addiction; before he knew it, he found it impossible to live without her. Actually, he didn't ask for much: he didn't need to penetrate her every day, wet his lips with her to feel that she was really his. A kiss was enough, her hand on his shoulder or one of those powerful hugs that she used to vent her joy. I'm like a reptile, I'll die without her warmth, Alex thought dramatically. Indeed, at the moment he felt right like a lizard in the desert, slow and dehydrated; all it needed to complete the picture was a bit of sand. He ran his hand over his face, and his eyes stung with sweat. Then, he brought that hand to his lips, in a casual gesture, that however made him flinch in surprise. He was extraordinarily sensitive. A rush of pleasure shot through his body and suddenly, he was aroused. The endless immobility of the heat made everything unpredictable. 

Carefully, he slid one hand down his neck, feeling it quiver. His chest, covered in light, soft hair, rose and fell now irregularly as he touched himself, curious. First his pecs, then his abs, v-line, even thighs. He marvelled at how toned he was: the training, as well as the effort on stage, had its effect on his body. Oh, I like it, he thought. But what does she think about it? Several times she’d told him how watching and touching his body sent her into ecstasy, a conflict between the desire to admire him as a painting and actually touch him, to confirm that he was a property of hers, a work of art that she alone could enjoy. Her voice was broken with sincerity as she spoke, blood rushing to her cheeks and eyes wide and bright: she seemed to be declaiming an ode in honour of a god. Her words sounded funny to him, because sometimes he forgot that he was no longer the boy with buzzed hair that girls used to look at with affection only. Now, he was a rather attractive man in the prime of his life, according to what he was told. Despite that, he needed her attentions only. 

He really wanted to believe that he deserved her adoration, but he just couldn't understand how anyone could worship him with such strength and honesty. However, in those moments, he remembered how that feeling wasn't so unnatural in the end: he just had to think about how much he was capable of loving her. His muse, goddess, comfort, despair: oh, if only she loved him half as much as he loved her, what a lucky man he would be! He thought about the feeling of inhibition, helplessness in front of the glory of her person, brilliant mind, sparkling soul, radiant body and enveloping warmth and softness and wetness and moans sighs lovebites pleasure

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He needed her now. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine her next to him. Over him. Under. On all fours, with her head pressed on the pillow while

You need to call her. He grunted. “Yeh can't, silly,” he said out loud, to make it clear. She's been busy today, and she'll be tomorrow too, you can't disturb her. But it was hot by her too, surely she was tossing in her sleep, tormented by the heat. Maybe she's not sleeping. Maybe she was in his same situation, craving his touch and company.

The unavoidable thought flashed through his mind. Just for a second, but it was enough to make him moan. He imagined her hands running along her body, tracing its irregularities as precious as diamonds to his eyes. Perhaps, she would have teased her nipples, erect and sensitive, sighing and then laughing at her own action. Slapped her thighs lightly, as he liked so much to do, to see them shine and move in the moonlight. Then, her slender fingers would have met the soft wetness between her legs, rubbing playfully at first, then desperately, seeking relief. He felt the familiar rush of blood boil towards his lower abdomen, discovering that he was half-hard already. Mm, that’s nice. That’s really, really… Without thinking, his hand ended up around his length and he began to slowly stroke himself. An all too loud grunt escaped his lips and he pouted, annoyed. He didn't want this for tonight, a pointless wank that’d only get his sheets dirty in vain. If that had really to be done, he didn't want to be alone through it. Before he knew it, his fingers were dialing her number and his phone was ringing. He felt the waiting with his whole body, hoping that she was awake or would become soon.

"Honey, what are you doing up this late at night?"

An audible sigh left his lips, a weight seemed to unhook from his heaving chest.

"Can’t sleep. 'M feeling a lil’ blue."

“Poor sweetheart. How so?"

“‘S too hot in here.”

“You should try and stay here! I've been laying here naked for hours, smeared on the bed. I can't even remember the last time I saw the curtains move because of the fucking wind. At least you’ve got a fan.”

The fan, right. Surely, it was holed up in some hidden corner of the house, and surely she’d taken it there, to do who knows what strange things. Where was he supposed to find the strength to get up and go look for it?

“I can barely move me limbs, I fink yeh'll find meh fused to yehr bloody duvet when yeh get back.”

She laughed. It was a breathless laugh, maybe a little tired, but honest. His heart ached with a twinge of nostalgia.

"I missed hearing yeh laugh."

"Did you?"

"Oh yes. I've been finking about yeh all night. All day, to be honest. Everyday."

Alex heard a sigh from the other end of the phone, and he was sure she’d smiled. He heard the sheets shift, as if she'd rolled over in her bed.

"What are you thinking about?"

“I’m finking about how it's been three foockin’ days since anyone’s touched meh. It ‘urts more than the heat, and the 'and I burned myself yesterday trying to grill a stupid steak.”

She laughed again. He loved making her laugh.

“Honey, do I need to remind you that you also have your little big hands to touch yourself?”

Little bastard. He loved her.

"Yeh want meh to say that mine are nothing compared to yehrs, don't yeh?"

"That’s not true. The expressions and noises that you make… they are no less luscious when we do that thing I like so much, right Alex?”

He knew exactly what she meant.

"Tell meh about it."

“Only if you make sure your little big sweet hands are on your cock while I do it, stroking it exactly the way I want.”

Well, they finally got there. Alex felt himself burning.

“Okay,” he moaned.

"Perfect." she replied. She sighed shakily, then started to speak.

“That thing I like so much, love, is when you please yourself without me doing anything. I love watching you as my mere presence turns you on, and you caress yourself and moan oh so sweetly. The first time we did that, you were so nervous. You'd stripped completely, and so had I; I sat on the bed with my legs crossed and you could see everything, my darling, you couldn't take your eyes off from between my thighs…" The first moan slipped out from his lips. Behind the black of his closed eyelids, he saw a flash of her open, wet, pink flower ready and throbbing for him; she who acted as if nothing happened, her hands tucked underneath her thighs and her adoring eyes wide open, ready to enjoy his little show. 

“You said you didn't understand what I wanted you to do. I remember you looking like a lil' lost puppy, yet your cock was there, standing between us, throbbing and so hard in your hands. Your body was glowing, love. I told you to touch yourself like your sixteen self would in your childhood bedroom, when a pretty girl had fluttered beside you in the morning and that tingling sensation in your stomach just refused to go away; when the shame surrendered to the instinct, and there was only you and the desperate pursuit of pleasure in the room.”

“But back then the pretty girl was right in front of meh, almost worse off than meh. Yeh were glorious and I 'ad never touched meself for anyone, it seemed like a waste."

"You changed your mind, didn't you?"

"Oh yes. I could ‘ave come joost because of yehr gaze.”

“And I because of yours. How funny’d have it been, if we’d actually came there, just because we were staring at each other?"

“I don't know if that's the funniest or most erotic fing I've ever ‘eard. Oh…"

He’d accidentally flicked his wrist too quickly, and now he felt the relentless knot in his belly begin to tighten, a rousing pleasure crawl up his spine. 

“Not so fast, baby. Breathe, slow down.”

“Are yeh with meh, honey?”

“Oh yes Alex. Yes, yes, there’s such a mess on my bed now. So empty, so cold…”

"Yeh 'ave to 'old on love, I can't stay away from yeh anymore too, but I promise that when yeh’ll come back I’ll make yeh feel so good, yeh'll wonder if these lonely moments weren't joost a bad dream.”

"You sure?" she whispered, her voice broken, this time from something different than pleasure; Alex recognized that she was holding back tears in her throat.

“Yes honey, that's a promise. Don't cry, focus on us. On yehr fingers, babeh, keep moving 'em. How many d’yeh ‘ave inside?”

She sniffed, then let out a soft moan.

"Two…"

“Good, yeh're doing so well… if I were with yeh, love, I'd take yehr little fingers in my ‘and and lick ’em clean of all yehr sweetness. God, I love yehr ‘ands so much… when I squeeze yehr wrists, I almost feel like I could break 'em, yet they ‘ave such an effect on meh, when they work so well between me legs. It may be true that I love touching meself, especially when it pleases yeh too, but without the dream of yehr touch I’d die, my darling."

“God, Alex, you have no idea how you're making me feel…”

“‘M glad. I'm so close…”

The orgasm began to blossom in Alex's lower abdomen, and his body arched. He closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of his sensations. He panted heavily, revelling in the orchestra of moans and sighs of his name on the other end of the phone. He felt so empty, deprived of his other half, yet so full, knowing that despite the distance they were still with each other, in the middle of the night, coming together. He smiled. Suddenly, a thunder ripped through the silence of the sky. The pounding of a precious and unpredictable midsummer rain filled Alex' ears, in a vibrant crescendo that shook him to the core, making him tremble.

"Alex Alex Alex I'm right there, come with me..."

He ignored his wrist beginning to feel tired, stroking his cock ready to receive an orgasm. His whole body claimed it, and he desperately chased it, abandoned to passion like a seed carried by the spring wind. Suddenly, his eyes fell on her bedside pillow. He saw a detail that he hadn't noticed until then. A smudge of lipstick, top left. Surely, when it still painted its owner's lips, it must have been of a magnetic, inhibiting brilliance. Now it was faded with age, but it still stood out like a crimson flower in the snow white sheets.

That did it for Alex. He remembered how that loveprint had stained her pillow: he thought about her face pressed into it, her back arched and shining as he took her from behind, lovingly holding her hips and breasts, craving another pair of arms to be able to touch her entirely. "Harder, Alex, please don't stop..." she moaned, biting the pillow and smudging it with the lipstick that she hadn't had time to take off after their night out. Her body spoke too, claiming and urging him, writhing her oh so soft hips against his. Because of those lips on the pillow, Alex felt himself wet his own hand, a fog cloud every other thought as all the tension left his body. Sweet relief. He collapsed on the bed, managing to hear the last loud moan of his love. He waited to calm down, panting; his heartbeat didn't seem to want to slow down.

"Honey, are you there? Do you feel good? It's not time to die of a heart attack during sex yet…"

This time it was he who laughed with joy.

"I feel in heaven, love. Oh, I love yeh so much..."

His voice trembled with the intensity of his own words, as if his mouth alone couldn't express what he was feeling. His body proved it too, since it had just been blessed by the ecstasy of the senses at the mere thought of her.

"D’you remember what we did the night before yeh left?" 

"Mm, I don't know, we do lots of things…" 

"Tha’ lipstick yeh were wearing. It's still on the pillow." 

"Oh…"

Alex smiled, knowing that she had realised.

"Yes, now I remember… you rascal, you were insatiable that night."

"Insatiable, meh? I don't remember it being meh who asked yeh to spank meh."

"Pff, you're a cowboy now, Turner, certain things shouldn't shock you anymore." she teased him in an American accent. 

They stayed together for a few more minutes, without saying anything; her presence, even if just virtual, relaxed him and he didn't want to let her go. The rain dropped lazily, unhurried on the roof, in an incessant lullaby that slowly began to weigh on his satisfied eyelids. He yawned.

“Honey, I think it's time to go back to sleep. I've loved spending time with you, but tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day…”

“Mm.”

That painful twinge of nostalgia made its way back into his heart, but he chased it away. She had just shown him that she would always be there for him, even in the middle of the night: what more could he desire?

“See you tomorrow then, sunshine. I love you."

"Love yeh too, sleep well."

"You too, goodnight my love."

She cut off the call. Alex threw back his head, breathing deeply. He didn't have the strength to get up and clean the mess he’d made; that would have been next morning’s business. He took the galeotto pillow, hugged it and sank his tired yet satisfied face in it. He closed his eyes, ready to abandon himself to sweet dreams of her.

~☀︎︎~

Notes: "Galeotto" is an Italian adjective that means "love intermediary", "guilty of having made two people fall in love", just as the pillow of our lovebirds; Dante Alighieri uses it in the Divine Comedy to indicate the book that Paolo and Francesca were reading when they fell in love.

[sasukimimochi]

A gift for @mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess and all you folks suffering during the ao3 drought! 💖 Enjoy your spice 😳✨

This will be properly posted on Ao3 (this is the chapter link for the draft, once ao3 is working fluidly again. this link will of course still be the same and work properly once its made public!) once the chaos is over with the full picture (i had to crop the second one) but you can also see the ficlet in its complete glory with the full picture here on my google drive. (please remember to reblog/share the ficlet though here if you read it on google docs! ;0 also this is a design reveal for SOBO LXC!

Word Count - 1281 (Suns Out, Buns Out! - POV Lan Xichen)

.✦ Not Just Summer Heat ☀

Lan Xichen’s mood was…less than desirable lately. Well, there were many reasons why; he usually enjoyed the summer weather! but it’d been so hot that even he was shedding layers of cloth and suffering with the rest of the clan. Well, not as many. He liked his layers, even if they made him suffer.

Sometimes he’d wonder why disciples would run off before he came over, but then he’d realize how scary he must look- he was usually so calm but he was sure to have a resting irritated set to his eyes which no one was used to. He was known for being one of the cool twin jades and usually the kinder looking of the two, but god, summer made it hard.

At least he didn’t have sect duties, he was sure if he had to deal with Sect leader Yao he would sucker punch him. The one time he had to stand in he must have looked pretty scary, because the other leaders gave him quite the wide berth.

“The best way to cool off?” Wei Wuxian smiled and turned onto his stomach, leaning his head onto a hand. “You’re wearing three robes. Ditch one of those for a starter.”

Lan Xichen sighed, “I…do suppose you’re right.” He shed the robe he usually kept hanging over his elbows and folded it in his lap, the small relief at least something.

“Cold springs too, but I can understand not wanting to turn into a prune...plus, everyone is trying to get into the cold springs these days.” Wei Wuxian chuckled, nearly purring as Lan Wangji scratched under his chin. “Or maybe make yourself sweat a bit.”

“Wei Ying.”

“I didn’t say how.” Wei Wuxian laughed, tilting his head into the scratches and nearly purring from the comfort of it if he weren’t, you know, a bunny.

Lan Wangji knew better. They both did, but Lan Xichen appeared as though he didn’t fully pick it up. “What’s wrong with Wei-gongzi’s suggestion?” He fanned himself, giving off that trademark irritation he had lately, which made his brother just shake his head.

“Nothing, give it a try when you are feeling too warm!” Wei Wuxian smiled brightly, completely used to that sort of look from his own shidi, and by now had learned this was just one of Xichen’s normal midsummer moods as well. 

Lan Xichen wasn’t sure how these two were so active even in such heat. He had to excuse himself to get some relief in the cold springs.

Only…there were so many disciples there already. So Wei Wuxian was right, the springs were a bust, he was much too embarrassed to admit he wanted to go there to cool off and not cultivate.

He sighed, flitting the fan given to him as a gift from Huaisang in his face in his futile attempts to cool himself. Maybe he could check the back mountains- but then again there were probably disciples there too. He groaned. Maybe he should just ask someone to fill his bath with cold water. Ah, but he shouldn’t waste water during the dry season. Everyone was being a bit more careful with water use at these times…

So that left the one jokingly made suggestion that his brother’s husband had teased him with. Lan Xichen was probably thinking too hard about what he suggested. But…

He was suggesting I indulge myself.

It was an inappropriate behavior to do so, which is to say. Not very encouraged™ in this clan. But now that he was thinking about it…It was constantly in the back of his mind, which meant it was constantly a struggle for his little ‘friend’ to stay docile.

And today was so hot.

He tugged at his lapels until his entire chest was exposed and fanned himself, groaning quietly. “Why did the heavens decide to heat the earth like we’re dinner?”

He really did feel miserable, every time he shifted feeling the heat between his legs as well, mind fogged over with the heat and body betraying his discipline.

He stole a glance into his mirror and he ended up unable to tear his eyes away. If he was exposed to someone right now, he would be quite embarrassed. But..

His skin was glistening in all the right areas, albeit subtly. Flushed rosy hues dusted the crowns of his cheeks, his nose, his…

He wondered quietly about a future wife or perhaps…a husband, coming in and seeing him like this. He felt a small throb move from his stomach and down, and took a small, breathy inhale shortly after. 

So what if he indulged in a bit of a fantasy? He was by himself and would be for the whole day. It was hot and he was told at least one solution he could but wasn’t using.

At this point, he couldn’t grasp his self control, but he could grasp something else.

He groaned quietly as his fingers traced the warm heat pressing up against his hand from beneath his robes, and god he wanted to remove them so badly. He surprised himself with how fast he did, and how fast his clumsy fingers went to work.

“M-mngh, oh…” He panted quietly, the heat in his palm pulsing with each little movement of his hips.

“My, my handsome husband is so pitiful like this, all by his lonesome too!”

He shuddered as his imagination filled in someone’s voice, a tremor shaking his body imagining their lips by his ear and whispering to him while…god forbid, they also touch him. 

“Look at how messy you’ve gotten! Allow me-”

He couldn’t help the tremble in his voice as he moaned, the sound actually embarrassing him as it slipped from his tongue, pushing more and more of his robes away until practically all that was left was bunched around his abdomen under his sash or his ankles.

His length wept in his hand, the thought of someone’s tongue anywhere on his sensitive skin leaving his chest heaving. He forgot where he was, the sensation of pleasure and overwhelming heat canceling out any other thoughts he may have once had.

“Husband,”

His knees trembled as his thumb ran over the tip of that sensitive glans.

“Cum for me.”

Lan Xichen’s breath suddenly picked up and he bucked into his hand, leaning back heavily against the wall as an intense wave of pleasure washed over his body.

He swallowed and looked into the mirror once more. He was right, if someone walked in on him like this he would be very embarrassed. 

Though, he was finding it hard not to do it again.

.    ☀    .

“You seem to be in a better mood lately, er-ge.” Nie Huaisang watched Lan Xichen pour the two tea, hiding his face behind his favorite fan. “You look a little less mad at the world. It doesn’t seem cooler yet though.”

Lan Xichen paused and only a hint of something rosy tinted his cheeks. He cleared his throat and smiled, “I just started wearing less layers, visiting the cold springs a bit more…” He trailed off, staring at his hot tea with disdain, “Ah, I still think it's too hot for tea though.”

“He just started sweating to beat the heat!”

Lan Xichen’s head turned so fast Huaisang was surprised it didn't fall off.

Wei Wuxian covered his mouth and laughed as Lan Wangji sighed and pulled his husband away from the Yashi. “Apologies Xiongzhang.”

Lan Xichen held his head while Nie Huaisang fought not to laugh aloud. At least his brother had mercy on him.

“I would like to hear more, er-ge.”

Lan Xichen just knew that Huaisang was smiling behind that fan.

Thanks for reading 😊💖✨

Find more MDZS art/projects on my masterpost! ❤

[shineforthee]

Seeing that I have accumulated a variety of fandoms, it feels like a convenient time to make a pinned masterlist of my fics for easy reference. Currently, I am actively writing fics for Interview With the Vampire & Supernatural.

Here is a direct link to my ao3 profile.

Interview With the Vampire

in the deafening polar province called You

Pairing: Armand/Daniel Molloy

Length: 150k

Rating: E

Summary:Daniel is sprawled out across the bed, loose-limbed and lazy, somehow filling all the open space it has to offer and leaving Armand to nestle into the gaps. His cheeks are flushed, blood pooling like it knows what comes next. Maybe it does. Armand was reading about classical conditioning the other day. About dogs who become accustomed to getting food when their handler rings a bell.

Perhaps Daniel is the dog, Armand’s teeth sharp bells reverberating in his veins. Or perhaps Armand is the dog, Daniel’s blood a song rattling in his ears. He has been a dog before. He runs his tongue along the bow of Daniel’s collarbone, gathers the salt-sweat there and imagines what it tastes like because Daniel does.

Armand remembers he loved Daniel, once, and that Daniel loved him. Or a version of them did, at least. It isn't his intention to go back to that, but it's not not his intention, either. Such is the prerogative of an immortal: to hold two contradicting desires simultaneously. If nothing else, it passes the time while he waits for this miserable interview to end.

You might like this fic if: You're looking for a vague mixture of book canon and show speculation, You like Armand POV, You enjoy flashbacks and memory fuckery, You're looking for a longfic and willing to follow along while I write it.

Supernatural (Destiel)

how we're stuck in entropy

Length: 211,563 (complete)

Rating: E (Major Character Death, not Dean or Cas)

Summary:

Sam makes one last deal.

Cas comes back. And Dean gets him back. And together they get something.

Something about humanity, about living even when it hurts, especially because it hurts. About building a home for loss inside your chest, and making your heart a place where the dead live when they die. About being selfish, about belonging, about deserving both. About choice, and a life lived, and learning to lay down arms so that your hands might hold something softer.

You might like this fic if: You want a post-canon fic that doesn't quite fix it but does give them their love story, you want a story that's about grief and joy and all the ways they coexist, you like a character driven story

virga(e)

Length: 71,924 (complete)

Rating: E

Summary:First, before anything, there was want.

In one version of this story, Dean Winchester hasn't stopped moving since the day his father died. He hunts across the country but always comes back to California with the half-hearted hope of visiting Sam at Stanford, and an endless, restless, ceaseless pull to the desert.

In one version of this story, Dean Winchester finds himself in the scorched heat of a Death Valley summer, on a hunt for a ghost. Or a purpose. Or an answer to the question that’s been tugging at his tendons for as long as he’s lived.

In one version of this story, all Dean Winchester has ever done is want, and all Castiel has ever done is wait.

You might like this fic if: You love AU's and/or Stanford Era!Dean, fics about the desert, nature as a metaphor for choice, mystery-adjacent plots, or bite-sized longfics.

whatever dust is left (WIP)

Length: 26k+

Rating: E

Summary:It’s natural to think in terms of checks and balances. He’s been taught – created even – to think in terms of the greater good. The problem, of course, is that Castiel can no longer think of any good greater than Dean Winchester.

He goads Zachariah into sending him to the future, and it’s worth the cost.

He lets that future burn and drags Dean home, and it’s worth the cost.

If all he ever does is stay at Dean’s side, then he thinks that will be worth the cost, too.

Dean and Cas both wind up five years in the future, and the conversations they have there have ramifications that no version of them is prepared to comprehend. Dean doesn’t agree with Sam’s approach to stopping the apocalypse and can’t trust him, Cas has nowhere else to be, and all Dean and Cas know is that at the end, they had each other.

You might like this fic if: You also have endverse brainrot and have thought "what if Cas met his future self, too?", you like explorations of Dean's trauma, Cas' early experiences with humanity, and Sam struggling with darkness, toxic and codependent destiel

Oneshots

scared of the crack where the light comes through | E | 6k | AU |

I'll linger at your body like a silent beggar | E | 10k | Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait |

Daisy Jones & The Six (inactive)

she is benediction & I fell so ceaselessly

Pairing: Daisy Jones/Billy Dunne

Length: 11,453 & 96,006 (Complete)

Rating: M

Summary:

Part 1: Canon-compliant, Billy pov gap-filler of the show.

Part 2: Canon-Divergent post Chicago, Daisy and Billy pov. A journey of recovery, healing, and trust.

You might like this fic if: You want something to heal the open wound that is the finale, you like fics with tiny mountain cabins, you like fics with road trips in vans, you like characters who are allowed to mess up and learn from their mistakes.

call it fate, call it karma

Pairing: Daisy Jones/Billy Dunne

Length: 145,886 (complete)

Rating: E

Summary:

Billy meets Daisy at the diner the day they rename the band.

Or: these messy humans are even messier before they get a chance to grow up some.

Or: Daisy and Billy are in love in every universe, but in this one it's a bumpy ride.

You might like this fic if: You want to ask "what if the whole story were different?", you like found-family dynamics, you like invisible strings, you like characters that take forever to do what's best for themselves, you like your happy ending with a heaping side of angst and mess.

all of me an offering

Pairing: Daisy Jones/Billy Dunne

Length: 108,906 (complete)

Rating: E

Summary:

Teddy dies in '83. Daisy and Billy are brought back together because it was never an option not to be. Billy and Camila's marriage has spent six years collapsing. Angst and mess ensue.

You might like this fic if: a fic colloquially referred to as the "affair fic" during the writing process, characters who really really suck but also are learning, a narrative that doesn't make anyone the good guy, angst, grief

Oneshots

the night explodes the sun is gone | E | 3k | smut | daisy/billy |

life ain't ever what it seems (these dreams are more than paper things) | T | 1.5k | Tiny canon "what-if?" | daisy/billy |

first light | E | 4k | from the Hozier song| daisy/billy |

I'll come too | T | 2k | simone/bernie |

and it feels good to be known so well | T | 2.5k | daisy/karen | platonic kissing|

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - fin

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,800

Warnings: Mutual Masturbation (non explicit), Hallmark Movie Cheesiness 

A/N: I’m am SO sorry it took me months to finish this. Also there’s a tiny bit of sexy times (it’s non explicit and put between two ‘*’ for those who want to skip it) but just a heads up. I can’t remember who said I should name Bucky’s book under pastel skies but thank you ;) I want to thank you all for reading this series, it has been really fun. I’m sad it’s over but hopefully I can add an epilogue and I got several requests for this series so it’s a good bye, not an adieu ♥ 

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Summer was Bucky’s least favourite season. He despised the heat, the sunburns and mosquitoes, the sweat running down his temples and back. He was always tired, never hungry, and he hated feeling so... bleh.

But most of all, he hated the expectations that came with summer: enjoying the sun, reuniting with friends and family, soaking up the extra hours of daylight, being happy. It felt like an obligation.

Summer with you was Bucky’s favourite season. He loved the way you squinted against the sun, your face bright and happy and your lips glossy with sorbet. He loved those lazy afternoons spent at the pool and he definitely worshiped your summer wardrobe.

You had found a part-time job at a renewed museum. You often said that it was boring and tiring but your colleagues were nice. You were still visiting galleries from time to time but you weren’t actively pursuing a career as a professional artist.

Bucky spent most of his time in his office, finishing up his novel. He was really anxious about it, and he hoped his little surprise wouldn’t blow up in his face. He had everything planned. His uncle had been delighted when Bucky asked if he could use the bookstore for a reading. It would be a private reading, just the two of you after the shop closed.

Now he just had to ask you out...

Bucky climbed the stairs two at a time to your floor, a bouquet of flower in his hand and a smile on his lips. You had invited him over for dinner, which was a bit unusual because you had to work the next morning, but he wasn’t complaining. Far from.

“Bucky,” you giggled sheepishly when you opened the door. He bought you flowers every time he saw you. It didn’t matter that your studio apartment now looked like the back room of a flower shop, he liked the way your eyes softened at the sight of the pretty blooms. “These are stunning.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Takes one to know one, sweetheart.”

You good-naturedly rolled your eyes before you waved him into the room. “Come in, I made dinner.”

Your apartment smelled of marinara sauce and spaghetti boiling in hot water. It was a comforting smell, a smell that reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

You didn’t have a proper table, the apartment was too small for that, so you ate on the breakfast counter. Bucky didn’t mind eating side by side. He liked the way you turned your body to face him, your knee touching his. It felt intimate.

“I have something to tell you,” you said, closing the door behind him. He watched you bounce around the room like some excited puppy dog. “I haven’t told anyone yet.”

His forehead creased into a deep frown. “What is it?”

You pulled something out of your bag and hid it behind your back before you took a step closer to him. You were unable to meet his confused gaze but he found it so endearing that he started smiling.

You handed him a postcard-style flyer with a shaking hand. It was a mini print of one of your paintings along with the logo of a gallery in New York. He turned the card over and read it, his eyes instantly brightening. It was a flyer for an art opening.

“Angel,” he said, his voice full of emotion. “You did it!”

You chuckled bashfully. “It’s a collective exhibition. They gave me half a wall and a corner of the engraving table.” You raised your eyes to his, your bottom lip caught between your teeth in a way that managed to be both shy and sensual. “Will you be there?”

Bucky placed the flyer on the kitchen counter and took a step closer to you. “Will I b-? Of course!” he exclaimed, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“I did nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “It’s all yours and you deserve it.”

With a little laugh, you pulled him into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around his middle and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. He hugged you against his chest and watched as you played with the lapels of his shirt.

“Do you think,” you started timidly, your eyes glued to his chest. “Do you think I can introduce you as my boyfriend?”

“Oh, my angel,” he chuckled lowly. “You think we’ve waited long enough? Am I allowed to kiss you now? Because let me tell you, sweet angel, I’ve been eager to taste you all summer. Didn’t help that all you ate was ice cream and sorbet. You know I have a sweet tooth.”

“You’re all talk,” you said with a grin before you curled your fingers around the lapels of his shirt and pulled him down to you.

He smiled against your lips and pressed his hand against the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. You shivered when his hand trailed up your side, his fingers grazing your breast over your clothes. You leaned your head back enough to break the kiss and audibly sucked in your breath.

Bucky cupped the side of your face, planting one last kiss on your parted lips. “My girl.”

With a breathy laugh, you let your head fall onto his shoulder and soaked up his warmth, his love, before you took a step back.

Dinner went well, albeit with more sexual tension than you’d both anticipated. He stole several kisses from your tomato sauce-covered lips, praising your cooking skills.

You touched the pendant at your throat and traced the tiny gemstones with the pad of your middle finger.

“It drives me crazy when you do that,” Bucky admitted with a chuckle.

“Really?” you replied, a tentative smile on your lips.

“Mhm mhm.” He nodded and licked the creamy remnant of ice cream off his spoon. “Looks real pretty against your skin. I like seeing you wearing it.”

Watching you smile down at your pendant made his chest burst with protectiveness. You bit your lip but couldn’t hide your smile. He leaned sideways and kissed your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in your ear. “Especially when you’re wearing my necklace and nothing else.”

You tilted your head to look at him. The tension between you became so intense that he could hear you breathing hard, and without thinking he pressed his lips against yours. His hand came up to your face and you took the opportunity to climb into his lap, desperate to touch him.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt, kissing him roughly. He could taste the ice cream on your lips, your tongue cool against his own. With his arm around your waist and a bit of your help, he hoisted you onto the counter.

The empty bowls, plates and glasses fell to the floor, shattering loudly but you didn’t care. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he gently lowered you down onto the counter.

*

He kissed his way down your throat to the dip between your collarbones where the pendant was. He felt himself harden against you when you stirred against him, moaning. You pulled him down for a kiss and blindly reached for his belt.

“Condom?” you half moaned against his lips.

“Shit.” He sagged heavily against you and buried his face in your neck. “Fuck, shit! I don’t have one. I didn’t think we’d-”

“That’s okay,” you cut him off. “We can either cool down or... get creative.”

With a breathless chuckle, he started to run his hand down the length of your body. “I might have an idea.”

You squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation when his hand slipped between your thighs. Bucky looked at you, paying close attention to your movements and the sounds you made.

Your head thrashed from side to side, your breathing erratic. You gripped the edge of the counter with one hand and slapped the other against his chest, your back arching off the counter as you moaned his name.

He had never seen anything more beautiful than you; lost in your pleasure, brow furrowed, eyes fluttering shut. He almost reached his peak with you, untouched.

You lay there with your mouth open and took a series of short ragged breaths, filling your deprived lungs with air. After a minute, you tried to sit up but your arms were too weak to support you.

You let out a loud, frustrated groan as you tried again. “I think you killed me.” You held out your arms to him. “Help me up.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you into a sitting position. After another long kiss, you ran your hand over the front of his jeans, smiling wickedly when his breath hitched.

He looked down at your hands as you started unbuckling his belt. He knew you could feel the tension in his stomach, the anticipation.

“You don’t have to-”  

“Shh,” you whispered, kissing his cheek. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

You slipped your fingers under the elastic waistband of his boxers and Bucky hissed. Your fingers were cool against his heated skin but he silenced your apology with a kiss.

He didn’t last long. He couldn’t; not when you were whispering filthy things in his ear, or playing with his earlobe, sucking it gently then biting it harshly. You were all he could feel, all he wanted to feel.

You chuckled softly when his legs buckled under him, your free arm coming around his waist to keep him upright. He slammed his hand down on the counter, grunting like a beast in pain. He moaned your name, repeated it like a prayer as he reached his peak.

With a tired laugh, he slumped forward, exhausted, and kissed your forehead before he drew several long deep breaths. He tucked himself back into his boxers, pulled his jeans up and buckled his belt.

*

“That was...” He didn’t finish his sentence, choosing instead to grab the back of your neck and pull you in for a kiss. You chuckled as you returned his kiss. Bucky drew back and bowed his head, resting his forehead against yours.

“Looks like we won’t do the dishes today,” you said, looking down at the broken ceramics and glass. Bucky followed your line of sight to the broken pates before he burst into laughter, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

The next Thursday, Bucky was getting ready for your art opening. Sam and Natasha had flown from D.C. to see your first show, though you had no idea they were coming. Your sisters and brother were already at the gallery waiting for them.

The street was quiet when Sam, Natasha and Bucky arrived at the gallery. A few people were standing outside, smoking and talking. As they walked up to them, Bucky glanced through the window in hopes of finding you.

It was only seven but the gallery was already busy, packed with people milling around, laughing, drinking, and talking. His ears started ringing and he had to stop to take a deep breath.

“You okay?” Sam asked, concern colouring his brown eyes. Natasha paused too, her hand still clasped in Sam’s. They turned to the crowd then looked at Bucky with sympathetic eyes. He had grown paler and his skin looked shiny with sweat. “Is it too much?”

Bucky couldn’t see you but he knew you were inside. You were waiting for him. He couldn’t miss your first show, he simply couldn’t. He tried one of his breathing exercises, working with this nervous energy instead of letting it consume him. He tightened his grip on the single sunflower he was carrying and straightened his spine.

“I’m good.”

“If you need a minute, we can wait here.”

“You look very sharp, Bucky,” Natasha replied almost immediately, a warm smile on her lips. “She’ll be thrilled to see you.”

Sam wanted Bucky to be comfortable but Natasha understood that it wasn’t going to happen. Bucky needed reassurance; he needed to know that everything would be fine, that you’d be happy to see him.

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, seeking validation in his friends’ eyes. “Yeah, of course. C’mon, let’s go.”

Inside the gallery, they were greeted by a cute twentysomething who gave them a rundown on the gallery and the exhibition. She had more energy than a puppy and spoke incredibly fast. They smiled and nodded politely, though their eyes kept wandering around the main room looking for you.

They managed to quietly escape when another group of people entered the gallery. As Bucky looked around the room, he felt a little overwhelmed. A couple of women were speed walking amongst the guests, an urgency in the way they moved that contradicted with the smiles on their faces.

“Find her and I’ll get us something to drink,” Sam said, raising his voice to make himself heard over the chatter. It really didn’t help Bucky’s anxiety.

Natasha and Bucky made their way through the throng, trying not to bump into people. Natasha waved at someone across the room and Bucky recognized your sisters and their partners. Scott was there too, carrying a half-asleep little girl.

Natasha looked over her shoulder when he didn’t follow her, then smirked knowingly and jerked her head in the direction of the crowd. He’d say hello later, right now he wanted to see you.

The gallery was designed in a u-shape with a patio at the centre. From where he was, he could see the engraving table, the bar and the door that led to the patio. Candles were lit in the patio, climbing roses and jasmine elegantly concealing the cracks in the concrete walls.

And there you were.

You were standing amongst a group of older folks, listening to their stories. The woman next to you exuded confidence and she seemed to enjoy being the centre of attention.  

Seeing you didn’t suddenly make his anxiety disappear, it didn’t make everyone around him vanish into thin air, but he still felt ten times better. It kept him grounded because he knew you were there for him.

A smile spread across Bucky’s lips as he observed you. You were smiling politely at the woman next to you, then let your eyes wander around the room as if you knew someone was watching you. When your eyes finally met, your whole face lit up and you quickly excused yourself.  

“You’re here!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him. He raised his arm, making sure you weren’t crushing the flower, then returned the embrace. “Thank you for coming.”

“I hope you don’t mind, I brought a couple of friends who are die-hard fans of your work,” he said, kissing your temple.

You pulled back slightly. “What? Who?”

“You’ll see,” he replied with a grin before he handed you the flower with a flourish. “A sunflower for my sunshine.”

You rolled your eyes at the corny line but your smile was shy and happy. You carefully tucked the sunflower into the top buttonhole of your blouse, then gave him a kiss. He smiled against your lips, enjoying this moment when it felt like it was just the two of you.

“Hey listen,” you said, your hands framing his face. “I know there are a lot of people here tonight, so if you need to leave or take a break-”

“I know,” he interrupted you, a smile on his lips. “Thank you for always looking out for me.”

“That’s what angels are for.”

He laughed softly and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead before he let you go. He’d been to several events like this one, he knew it was only a matter of time until someone dragged you away. After all, it was a networking event.

“This place is great,” he said. “But I haven’t seen your work yet.” He held out his hand, palm upward, and you bashfully looked at your feet as you took his hand. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

You simultaneously buried your face in his shoulder and smacked his arm, making him laugh. “It’s a sales technique,” you quipped, leading him across the room to where your family was waiting.

“Well, it’s definitely working on me, beautiful.”

“Oh, no! You’re not allowed to buy anything tonight. Your apartment already looks like a museum.”

“The one above my bed is my favorite,” he continued with a grin. A little shiver ran through you at the memory, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. He pulled you closer and whispered in your ear. “Do you remember the night we made it? You and I, naked, covered in paint, making each other feel so fucking good.”

“Bucky,” you whined, trying to wiggle out of his embrace. “I can’t think straight when you say things like that.” He chuckled lowly in your ear. “People are staring at us.”

“Let ‘em. They came to look at art, uh?”

You good-naturedly shook your head at him and rolled your eyes, your expression one of annoyance and amusement. Bucky had become a bit of a flirt since the two of you started dating, and he loved riling you up in public.

You opened your mouth to speak when your eyes darted toward something behind his shoulder. “Nat?” You looked at Bucky, your eyes wide and filled with unshed tears. “You brought Nat!”

“And Sam,” he said with a nod. “They’re a package deal now.”

“Sam’s here too?” you exclaimed.

Bucky watched you powerwalking toward your friends and family. You wrapped your arms around Natasha as tight as you could and she pretended to gasp for air making your siblings smile fondly at the two of you.

“Thanks for not inviting me to your first big gig, doofus,” Natasha said as she pulled back. “You’re lucky your boyfriend had my number.”

“I didn’t want you guys to come all the way here on a Thursday,” you explained. “You all have your lives. I don’t expect you to drop everything to see my art show.”

“We live in D.C., not Mars,” Sam said, appearing with two glasses of champagne. He handed one to Natasha before he greeted you with a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Besides it gave us an excuse to take a few days off work. We’re staying until Sunday.”

You looked away, uncomfortable. “Guys, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Newsflash, it is,” Scott said, having heard your conversation.

“And we’re all incredibly proud of you,” Okoye added.

“You accomplished so much,” Wanda agreed, raising her own glass in a toast. The others raised their glasses high, clinking them together in the air before they drained them dry.

“I’m really glad you’re all here,” you said, sagging a little against Bucky’s chest. He wrapped his arm around you and kept you close. “It means a lot. I love you all.”

One of the interns popped out from behind Bucky, interrupting the little reunion. She walked over to the wall and placed a little red sticker on the label under one of your paintings. She turned around and congratulated you on your first sale, making everyone explode into cheers and applause.

“If you have a moment, the buyer would like to meet you,” she said.

“Oh, yes, of course!”

When you turned to him, Bucky saw the worry colouring your beautiful eyes. He smiled tenderly and cupped your cheek in his palm, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. “Go, it’s your night.”

He pressed his lips to yours before he let you go. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, a nervous habit Bucky had seen you do a lot in the past few months. You touched the pendant around your neck and smiled.

Before you left, you gave Natasha a sharp look –which could only mean one thing, ‘take care of him for me’- and she replied with a firm nod. It made Bucky grin to himself as he gently nudged you toward the intern.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur of soft classical music, loud conversations, and laughter. Bucky spent most of the evening sitting on the patio talking with Sam, Vis, Scott and W’Kabi while the girls were chattering cheerfully next to them.

He preened whenever you introduced him as your boyfriend to gallery owners and art collectors. You mentioned that he was a talented writer, even though it was supposed to be your big night.  

“Are you writing anything at the moment?” someone asked him.

“I have a book coming out soon, hopefully,” he said, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “But that’s not why I’m here tonight.”

“What is it about?”

“Oh, Bucky’s incredibly secretive,” you answered for him. “He wouldn’t even tell me.”

Bucky tuned out the rest of the conversation and decided to watch you instead. You were too engrossed in their story to notice his intense eyes fixed on you.

He decided that he’d take you to his uncle’s bookshop after the party.

He did a quick mental checklist to see if it was feasible; he had the keys to the bookshop, he knew the alarm code, and the back of the bookshop already had chairs lined up in rows from a previous author reading. The only thing missing was his book but he had a copy at home and Sam owed him a favour anyway.

It was getting late, several people were standing next to the engraving table but the gallery had emptied enough to really look at the paintings on the walls.

It was a beautiful, cosy place when it wasn’t overcrowded with guests.

Your siblings had left about an hour ago. Sam came back from Bucky’s apartment with Bucky’s book hidden under his coat, acting like he was smuggling candies into a movie theatre. They left soon after.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered in your ear as he wrapped his arm around you from behind, tucking you against his chest. You were standing alone in front of your paintings, the distant sound of voices and laughter came from the other side of the gallery. “Everything okay, angel?”

You hummed under your breath and tilted your head back so you could kiss the underside of his jaw. He felt you relax against him.

“They’re closing up soon,” you said. “But I don’t want tonight to end. Can I stay at your place?”

“The answer’s always yes,” he replied, making you laugh. “We have to make a quick stop somewhere first.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.” A minute passed before you turned and wrapped your arms tightly around him, squeezing hard enough to make the air whoosh from his lungs. He let out a surprised laugh and held you close to his chest. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “It was a really good night. I think I’m feeling a little emotional.” You pulled your head back to look at him. “Thank you for asking Sam and Nat to come. I really needed that.”

“That’s what good boyfriends do,” he said with a grin.

You laughed. “I love you.”

Your blunt admission made him blink. Hard. The words had left your lips so easily that the weight of their meaning hit him like a lightning bolt. He stood there frozen, unable to move, unable to speak.

You laughed softly. “Earlier tonight I was upset that my mom and Pietro couldn’t be here. It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life and I wanted to cry. But then I saw you and I knew everything would be all right. I know we’ve only been dating for a couple of months but we’re known each other for almost a year and... I’ve loved you since you took me to that charity event at the Museum of Natural History.”

“Angel,” he said in a choked voice. He pressed his lips together, then tried to say your name.

“It’s okay,” you said, cupping his face. “You don’t have to say it back. I know you love me. You have the most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen. You can’t hide anything.” He laughed, the sound raspy and wet. “No one has ever looked at me like this before.”

“You’re-” he paused and swallowed the lump in his throat. “You’re everything to me, y’know that?”

“I know,” you said, smiling tenderly at him.

His book felt heavy in his pocket, a reminder of all the things he wanted to tell you. He smoothed his hand over his pocket and looked over his shoulder but the remaining guests were too engrossed in their own conversations to pay attention to you.

“Come with me,” he said, holding out his hand.

You placed your hand in his and let him lead you out of the gallery. You both stepped out into the street laughing and feeling lighter than air. Bucky hailed a cab, opened the door for you and climbed in.

He gave the driver the address and settled back into his seat, his attention on you. You looked at him with incredulity mixed with amused curiosity. He leaned closer to you and rubbed his nose against yours, making you laugh.

When the cab stopped, Bucky looked out the window, surprised to see that they had already arrived. You let out an incredulous chuckle next to him, probably realizing that you’d spent most of the ride kissing.

“A bookstore?” you asked, watching Bucky walk over to the crisscrossed metal security gates. “Well, too bad it’s closed. Then again it’s almost midnight.”

“That’s not a problem.”

The gates made a loud screeching noise as Bucky opened the store. He punched in the security code and waited until the light turned green to turn on the lights. You slowly walked into the bookstore, a dubious look on your face.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?”

“Technically, no,” Bucky replied with a cringe. “But I have the keys, don’t I?” You levelled an assessing gaze on him. “It’s my uncle’s bookstore,” he finally relented. “He gave me a key for emergencies, and sweetheart, that’s one hell of an emergency.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re smooth, Barnes, but I’m not spending the night in jail.”

He laughed. “You’re no fun, angel.” When you didn’t seem convinced, he added, “We’re good, promise.”

You raised your eyebrows and puckered your lips into a doubtful grimace as you began browsing through the shelves. Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out his book, cradling it protectively against his side.

“I bet you used to work here,” you said, your back turned to him and your head tilted to one side as you read the titles.

“You’re right.” He glanced down at the book in his hand and traced his thumb along the gold lettering. “I worked here with Steve. We were saving up money to go to Nepal.”

You paused and looked over your shoulder at him. “To climb Mount Everest?”

Bucky made an affirmative sound but he was took busy looking at the book in his hand to notice that a worried look had crossed your face. You walked to him and touched his cheek, trying to coax his eyes back to yours.

“I’d go through all of this again,” he said, blue eyes boring into yours. “Just to spend a minute with you.”

“Don’t say things like that,” you whispered, hiding your flustered face in the crook of his neck. He tilted his head to kiss your crown. “Are you going to tell me why we’re here?”

He took a deep breath and you slowly pulled back from him. “We’re here, angel, because... well because I’m an idiot who can’t express his feelings, at least not out loud and definitely not in an intelligible way. I thought I’d sit down and write it down but it got away from me.”

He raised the book in his hand as if proving his point and let out a derisive snort. You cocked your head, trying to understand.

“I called it ‘Under Pastel Skies’ because that’s what you remind me of,” he said, looking down at the cover. “Clear, cotton candy skies. Bright and colourful, soft and beautiful, and with that ethereal golden hue that makes you believe in Heaven.”

“Bucky,” you tried, your voice coming out thin.

“Will you come with me, please?” He offered you his arm and you looped your hand around the crook of his elbow. You didn’t try to take the book from him and you were oddly silent next to him. He sneaked a glance at you but he couldn’t make out the expression on your face.

He led you into the backroom, where several rows of chairs had been set up in front of a lectern, and walked you down the central aisle.

“You want me to take a seat?” you asked, glancing around the room.

“Please,” he whispered and pressed his lips against your forehead.

You sat down willingly, though you kept wringing your hands. For a brief moment, Bucky wondered if he hadn’t made a terrible mistake. He had no idea how you were going to react to his book, and it hadn’t really hit him until now that his book was filled with extremely personal information.

He never mentioned your name, your siblings or your mother, but he did share more than he had intended. With his heart in his throat, he forced himself to walk over to the lectern.

“Thank you all for coming today,” he tried to joke but his anxiety made him stutter. “I see that we have a full house tonight.”

He briefly glanced up at you, sitting all alone in that big room, then looked down at his book.

“Mmh, so,” he cleared his throat, “usually when you speak in front of a large audience, or an important audience, they tell you to start with an anecdote. It’s supposed to put everyone at ease, it’s supposed to break the ice, but I, uh, I think we know each other quite well.”

Bucky became acutely aware of the beads of sweat running down his armpit, sending an uncomfortable chill through his spine. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and cursed when the book immediately closed itself.

“I’m,” he let out a small laugh, “I’m sorry, this is what happens when you only have one hand.” It took a few tries to open the book again. His fingers were trembling so much. “I’m a little nervous,” he acknowledged with a cringe. “Here we go!”

My name is Bucky. I have been writing for years and my faithful readers know me as Grant Thomas, a sarcastic and witty writer who makes fun of his own struggles, but in real life, I’m just Bucky. According to my friend, I’m a sourpuss, a fun killer, and I guess that’s fair. I’m not as charismatic as I used to be.

Meeting new people can be a scary thing, especially when you’re a one-armed brooding machine. I carry a lot of emotional baggage. Sometimes it feels like everywhere I go I have a backpack strapped to my chest, filled with notebooks containing undisclosed information about me.

I met my angel at a bar. She was wearing a tight orange-red dress, her lips the color of blood; she looked like she was about to sell her soul to the Devil. I was the Devil. And I knew I had to leave before I could taint her with my darkness.

I saw her outside the bar while I was hailing a cab. I don’t know if she followed me or if she wanted to leave but I was drawn to her. Her shoes didn’t match her dress. She was wearing an expensive-looking dress but her shoes were old and scuffed, most certainly loved, and spattered with flecks of orange and blue paint.

It dawned on me that blue and orange have nothing in common but they do look good together. I shared a cab with her that night.

Bucky turned the pages until he found the chapter he’d been looking for. He didn’t look up, too afraid of your reaction. He continued.

The first holiday we spent together was Liss, our made-up holiday around Christmas time. Liss is an old English word, it means comfort, happiness. I remember feeling particularly happy. I had opened up to her. I felt close to her. I told her things I’d never told anyone, not even in my books, not even to my best friends, the men who’d saved my life.

Everything is so natural with her, so easy. She challenges me and I like to think I challenge her too. She makes me feel at peace, she understands me. She’s my friend, my companion, my soulmate.

And as I sat on my apartment floor, covered in tinsel, laughing so hard my cheeks hurt, I realized I was falling in love with her.

At first I struggled against this feeling. In all honesty, I’m not a model of emotional stability. I have a compulsive need to clean when I’m stressed, I label things and put them into boxes instead of dealing with my problems, and I simultaneously crave and loathe the comfort of my everyday life.

As someone once pointed out, I’m not boyfriend material.

It doesn’t matter if the person you love is a friend, a family member or your partner; when you love someone, the last thing you want is to smother them with your darkness. I’m lucky enough to have friends who never gave up on me.

Bucky quickly flipped over the pages until he found what he’d been looking for. He knew you were there and he knew you were watching him but he couldn’t meet your eyes. He lowered his head, his heart hammering in his chest.

My angel is nothing if not strong. She cares so deeply for the people she loves that she puts their needs before her own. It breaks my heart to know that she gave up, not only her dreams, but also her comfort and independence.

Sometimes I watch her from the living room while she paints, her brush strokes quick and confident, or slow and delicate. She is talented; entire worlds spring into life under her fingers.

I love the way she squints at the canvas, the tip of her tongue sticking out of her mouth in extreme concentration, a paint brush behind each ear. Her posture is awful and I know I’ll hear her joints crack when she finally stretches. The sigh that comes with it makes me smile.

I won’t go into the details of her artistic journey, but like most artists, she’s plagued with self-doubt. Inspiration, like happiness, is a fickle thing, and sometimes they are tied to one another so intricately that the knot can never be untied.

I gave her a necklace; a gold pendant in the form of a palette. It took me weeks to find the perfect charm, something that would remind her that even if inspiration fails her, she is still an accomplished, talented artist.

She was born with a paint brush in her hand and her skin is dotted with multi-coloured freckles.

I want her to be happy.

Bucky closed his eyes and took a steadying breath as he finished reading these lines. He raised his terrified eyes to yours and words failed him. He could see tears streaming down your face and a little frown between your eyes.

He set the open book upside down and started to move toward you when you pushed yourself off your chair and rushed to him. You buried your face in his chest and he wrapped his arm around you, relief washing through him.

“My love,” he said, now tenderly stroking your hair. You brushed your tears away and sighed. “Is it too much? Do you want me to stop?” He pulled back and met your eyes. “Are you upset? You don’t need to worry, I’ll never publish this book if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You turned your body sideways and touched the book, your other arm still wrapped around his waist. “No, I- I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Do you want me to keep reading?”

“Yes, please,” you said softly.

Bucky chuckled under his breath and pressed his lips to the top of your head. He shuffled the two of you closer to the lectern and cradled you against his chest, kissing your hair, before he turned the book over. You tightened your hold on his waist and played with your pendant.

“I love you,” he said, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes. The words came so naturally that he realized he wasn’t afraid to share his feelings anymore. You deserved to know you were loved. You reached up to caress his cheek and repeated his words back to him.

The moment I saw her, I knew I had met my soulmate. I don’t mean it in a romantic way, I didn’t fall in love with her at first sight, but despite our brief and awkward first conversation, we clicked. I knew I could trust her.

She knows how to bring me back from the darkest corners of my mind. I am myself with her, flaws and all. She’s patient, kind, and understanding, and the best part is, I know I bring her similar comfort. It’s as if we’ve always known each other, as if we’ve carried each other’s fears in us all our lives, not knowing what it was.

She doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile, but she’s careful. She took care of my scars, a look of intense concentration on her face. I almost blurted out the three words I’m so desperate to say. I love you. But I chickened out, too scared, too insecure. Our first kiss brought tears to my eyes. She held my hand and took me to her studio, and I knew, right there, that I would love her for the rest of my life.

I only ask one thing: let this book live. Crack its spine, fold the corners of the pages, write in it, stain the pages with your tea or coffee or your wine, let it be a coaster, and then give it to someone you love. It will look a bit rough and damaged, like me I guess, but it’ll be worth something to whoever wants it. I can understand the appeal of a well-worn book. When it bears the marks of our everyday lives, reading it feels more personal. So please, do not handle it with care. Hold it close to your heart and let it live its best life.

Bucky let out a long sigh as he closed the book. There was a moment’s silence between you as he cradled your head, his lips resting against your temple. Slowly you untangled yourself from him and reached for the book.

“To my angel, this book is my heart,” you read the epigraph. You turned to him, tears in your eyes, and a wave of panic hit him. “When you said you had an idea for a new book, I asked you if I could be in it,” you said with a little laugh, “Do you remember?”

“I do.” He laughed along with you, then his voice took on a serious tone. “I never intended to publish it, you have to know that, I just wanted you to read it but I was so... I don’t know, so in love with you that I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.”

You looked down at the book and bit your bottom lip to keep from smiling. “I really don’t know what to say.” You raised your eyes to his face. “Can I keep it?”

“Yes, of course. And if there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable with-”

“I’ll let you know,” you replied with a coy smile. “But I want people to know our story. I want to live forever as your angel and maybe, in a hundred years, someone will read this book and they’ll know the love we had for each other was real.”

He hadn’t realized he was crying until you wiped away a tear with a stroke of your thumb, the action so delicate and sweet it made his breath hitch in his throat. He closed his eyes, causing more tears to fall down his cheeks.

“Because after this, Bucky Barnes, you’re stuck with me forever,” you emphasised the last word and Bucky chuckled.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, angel,” he said, claiming your lips in a searing kiss.

- the end

if you’ve enjoyed this story, please consider supporting my work by buying me a Ko-fi

[angelictaehyun]

PAIRING: richboy!kang taehyun x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: He’s been a pain in your ass since you began working at the club. He’s arrogant and insanely wealthy, and you’re struggling to simply pay tuition. Needless to say, it’s not quite the match made in heaven… or so it seems. 

WC. 11,200+

GENRE: rich kid au, country club au, e2l au, crack, fluff

WARNINGS: mild language, illegal activity, y/n’s an actual dumbass, and taehyun’s kind of a dick lol

.

You repeatedly tapped your pen against your sticky, worn checkbook, awaiting a response from the refined, old lady sitting comfortably under a patio umbrella. You, on the other hand, felt the scorching heat of the summer sun against your back, making you sweat uncontrollably—you could only hope you didn’t resemble a drenched pig. The woman eyed you, a bit too judgmentally for your liking, before pointing her perfectly manicured nail at the menu in her hand, “I want this pasta, but make it gluten-free. Throw in another iced tea, too… extra lemon, of course!”

You winced at her shrill voice. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, all of our pasta is made from flour,” you explained patiently. Her right eye twitched. You were an obstacle in her way of getting what she desired, she was angry. Lovely. However, above all, she was confused, “Just tell the chef to make it without flour, let him know it’s a special request. I don’t see the issue.”

“Ma’am, I’m telling you… there’s no way to make it without flour, we just don’t have the type of noodle you want in house.”

She drummed her hand on the table, absolutely fuming. She glanced at you like you kicked a puppy, it was absolutely infuriating. She grasped for nothing as her brain formulated any response, “This is outrageous! I want to speak with a manager. Now!”

You sighed, “Gladly.”

It was astounding, truly, the lack of self-awareness and consideration some people had... or, didn’t have. You wished, so badly, to tell them off, but you desperately needed the cash. After all, college wouldn’t pay for itself and the bills piling on your coffee table wouldn’t just magically disappear. You swiftly turned around and trudged away, scanning the vast garden for your manager, Yeonjun, but unsurprisingly, he was nowhere to be found. You’d known him long enough to assume he was hiding in the manager’s office, his poor attempt to flee from the overbearing, entitled crowd. How he scammed his way into a managerial position, a position of authority… that was beyond you. 

You were halfway across the floor, pushing past another server when you felt an intense stare land on you. You halted in place, knowing exactly who the gaze belonged to. You glanced at the table stationed in the far corner of the garden, instantly meeting his piercing stare. He eyed you shamelessly, a signature habit of his, before throwing you a smug grin. You weren’t going to kid yourself, he wore the smirk well. 

Too bad he was a pompous ass. 

Kang Taehyun. You hated saying his name, it humanized him and he was anything but human. Rather, he was an evil, irritating demon spawn simply disguising himself as human. And the cherry on top? He was the absolute bane of your existence. 

There was a hint of mischief in his eyes and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint, but you didn’t necessarily want to. He opened his mouth to call you over, but much to your dismay, decided against it and instead rose from his seat to saunter over to you. You tried fleeing the scene the millisecond he stood up, but the elderly lady directly in front of you shuffled quite slowly, blocking your exit and trapping you in place. You tapped your foot impatiently as he approached you. 

“You look… sweaty,” he observed, chuckling at your less-than-appealing state. Truth be told, though he didn’t like admitting it to himself, he thought you looked beautiful. 

“Taehy—” he forcibly cut you off by landing his slender finger on your lips. You ignored the spark you felt from the small contact. He let his gaze travel to your Cupid’s bow momentarily, a part of him wanting to kiss your frown away. 

“Ah, not Taehyun,” he reminded you smoothly. You considered biting his finger off, but you prided yourself on your outstanding professionalism. Granted, it significantly dwindled every time you spoke to him.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled monotonously. “Mr. Kang… if you don’t remove your hand from my mouth, I will shove a menu so far up your ass, you’ll choke,” you snapped, a pretty smile adorning your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Your customer service and approachable personality never fail to amaze me,” he stated, drawing his finger away from you. He continued despite the growing, fiery rage in your eyes, “I’d like another fork, mine’s a bit dirty.”

“That’s your problem. I’m not your waitress, I have my own customers to deal with, so if you don’t mind…”

He completely disregarded your subtle plea for him to leave. “For your information, I’d much rather prefer you as a server and not him,” he admitted, throwing a spare glance at his server—Hyunjin, if you were guessing from the blond hair. 

“That’s too bad…” you trailed as you mustered up the fakest sympathetic pout you could. You continued, “Anyways, I really hate to cut this short, but I’d better get going. I’m sure you’ll survive with your fork. You probably won’t get tetanus, but fingers crossed.”

“Yeah, best of luck with Cinderella’s stepmom,” he mumbled, gesturing to your awaiting customer. He flashed you a confident wink before whirling around and returning to his seat. You scoffed, your lips tilting downward into an ugly grimace. The snapping sound from a couple of feet away brought you out of your disgusted daze. The lady you had spoken to was repeatedly snapping her fingers in an attempt to grab your attention. You were met with an expectant gaze when you directed your focus back on her. She was poised, her spine in perfect posture and hands folded properly across her lap; her body language exhibited no sign of emotion until you reached her watchful glare, clearly telling you to hurry along. You inhaled sharply before plastering on a fake smile. You resumed your hunt for Yeonjun, but once again, you felt the weight of a cocky stare land on your back. 

He was challenging you, silently. You knew it. Unfortunately for him, you had no interest in playing his silly, childish game, so you clenched your jaw and walked away. 

· ──────────────────── ·

As odd as it was, you and your best friend had a favorite bench. It sat a block from the country club and in the middle of a hidden, rugged park, but it was your safe space; it’d been your favorite place since you both found it in fourth grade. After every grueling shift, Kai would meet you on the bench with dinner. The food was almost always inedible, but you weren’t there for his cooking, rather his company. He was already perched on the bench, kicking at a pebble beneath his feet. He heard you approach but kept his focus on the fascinating rock.

“God, took you long enough, I’ve been here forever. I started to think you ditched me for one of those rich boys,” he complained. When you didn’t retort with a snarky comeback like you normally would’ve, he turned from his spot and glanced at your disheveled figure, immediately letting out an obnoxious laugh.

You looked like shit.

Your hair was a disaster, the wisps of hair framing your face no longer considered stylish, but rather unkempt and as Kai liked to put it, “homeless-like.” Not only did you look bad, you felt unclean. The sweat behind your knees was quickly becoming uncomfortably sticky and your mascara was rubbing off, making you look like a rabid raccoon. 

Despite all that, you were happy to see Kai, his bubbly personality never failed to cheer you up—but you’d never let him be privy to that. 

You shot him the nastiest glare you could muster, but that proved difficult considering the little energy you had left.

“Aw, Y/N…”

“I’m going to quit, I swear to God. If I have to hear one more soccer mom complain about her salmon being too fishy, I’m going to have to start perfecting my mugshot pose,” you grumbled through clenched teeth. He made a noise of disagreement, “Let’s not throw your ass in jail just yet. Orange makes you look like a traffic cone.”

You shot him an indignant glare, “Thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Anyways, I made us some hamburgers and managed to grab some extra soda cans before leaving home. So bone app the teeth or whatever.”

You snorted. He always brightened your mood, just a simple sentence could lift your sad spirit. You had to give it to him, the burger looked pretty appetizing… but you’d learned that with his cooking, much like anything else, appearances can be quite deceiving. Despite this, you inhaled your burger, ignoring the fact that the meat was undercooked and the mayonnaise was likely expired. You paid no attention to the fact that your soda was lukewarm and flat—you sipped on it regardless. Your mind was elsewhere, easily drowning out whatever Kai was ranting about. 

“... I know you probably had a bad day ‘cause of your boy,” he observed quietly.

You snapped your focus back, “My boy?”

“Yeah, your boy. The one you think is a self-righteous prick, but secretly think is really hot. Hm, what was it… Terry? Tyler? Taeyong?... Oh, I got it. Trash can.”

You scoffed, “Taehyun, most certainly, is not my boy. I can’t stand him. His head is so far up his flat ass, I’m surprised he’s still breathing.”

Kai nodded in feigned understanding. He tilted an eyebrow quizzically before opening his mouth, but you beat him to it.

“And I don’t think he’s cute!” 

“... And I’m Beyoncé.” 

You didn’t respond, too tired to argue with him. Instead, you let out a small noise of disagreement before resting your head on his broad shoulder, contently sipping on your warm soda. He knew how tired you were; everyday he watched you wear yourself down to practically nothing, it hurt him. He leaned his head against your own, placing a hand atop your thigh and squeezing reassuringly. You allowed yourself to relax, breathing in the humid, summer air. You stayed like that until he let out a small laugh. 

“Let’s rob him,” Kai suddenly suggested. He was joking, obviously, but you still perked at the idea. You turned to face him expectantly, straw loosely hanging from your mouth. He visibly retracted, “Jeez, Y/N, I was kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“… I’m not robbing someone.” He threw you a cautious glare before aggressively taking a large bite of his burger and chugging his flat soda. You were losing your mind, he was sure of it. You poked curiously, “So I’m assuming your stance on graffitiing is the same.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line before letting out an exasperated sigh, “Obviously.”

You turned away, sulking, and he couldn’t help but snicker. You were his best friend and had been since second grade, but if he said he didn’t think you were a dumbass, he'd be lying. 

“Come on, it’s time to get you home, you have an early shift tomorrow,” he reminded suddenly, mouth still full. You smacked his arm, disgusted by his lack of basic manners. He opened his mouth to showcase all his unchewed food. 

You gagged. 

“You’re disgusting!” you screeched, shuffling away from him. He chased after you, catching you almost immediately. His long legs made it easy. He effortlessly tossed you over his shoulder, ignoring your squirming, and carried you to his car, “Hush, I know you love me.”

“Gross. Never.”

He slapped the back of your calf and you squeaked, “Kai! Put me down! Now!”

“No, not until you say it. Make it believable, too.”

He wasn’t joking, you knew that. Eleven years of friendship and he was still as shameless as the day you met him. More so, if anything. Yes, his eight-year-old self was quite the charmer. You grumbled monotonously, “Kai, what can I say… you’re the light of my life, my hero, my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Probably die. I love you, I guess.”

“Too sarcastic, but it’ll do,” he conceded. He set you down and held in a laugh. Your hair looked even worse than before. He slung an arm around your shoulder, “Okay, get in the car. Hurry. I’d rather not listen to you complain about your lack of beauty sleep… again.”

· ──────────────────── ·

You mindlessly typed in a complicated order as Yeonjun watched your gaze drift over to the garden. 

“You’ve pressed that button so much, the console’s probably broken. Cool it,” he reprimanded gently. Your attention snapped back to the screen which was littered with incorrect orders.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what has me so distracted today,” you mumbled sheepishly. He chuckled and gave you a comforting nudge on the shoulder, “I think I know exactly why.”

Your gaze followed his and instantly landed on Taehyun. As much as you hated to admit, he looked good. Great, even. It looked like he’d just walked out of a rager, especially with his tie undone and shirt untucked, which he pulled off beautifully. His hair was slightly disheveled and you suddenly had the strongest urge to run a hand through it. 

Your eyes widened at the sudden thought and you aggressively shoved it to the back of your mind. “I don’t like him!” 

“I never said you did.” he argued, suppressing a mirthful grin. Yeonjun reminded you of Kai, especially with his insistence on your attraction to Taehyun, or as you believed, lack thereof. He continued, “Just a reminder, though. The line between love and hate is so, so thin.”

Rather than responding and saying something that would surely get you fired, you huffed and turned your focus back on the order, unaware of your aggressive punching on the console’s screen. You were already having a rough day, but everyday spent at the country club was considered less-than-stellar. Yeonjun gave you a reassuring smile before sulking off to deal with another whiny, overbearing customer. You unconsciously let your gaze travel back over to Taehyun and was instantly met with a genuine smile, just not one directed to you. He laughed at a joke, oblivious to your longing and thank God, if he caught you staring, you’d never hear the end of it. His smile was just so pretty, you couldn’t help but feel giddy. Sure, you hated him—that’s what you told yourself—but you could appreciate a handsome face. As if on cue, Taehyun turned in your general direction and you quickly scrambled out of sight. As you turned, Hyunjin scrambled by you, the heavy tray resting on his shoulder nearly beheading you. His long, wavy blond hair, which was in a nice, neat half-ponytail at the beginning of his shift, was now splaying in every direction—he was beyond stressed. If the messy hair wasn’t enough, his hooded eyes were getting darker. You approached him as he grabbed a checkbook, “Hyun, you look like a mess.”

“Hey, Y/N! Yeah, I just have a lot of floor to cover, and they’re all extra demanding today,” he explained, short of breath. He groaned as he watched another set of people sit in his section and continued, “God, please cover me. I’ll owe you one. I’m already overwhelmed with my current table number.”

You laughed understandingly, “Of course.”

“You’re the best, it’s table thirty.” He squinted to get a good look, “Oh! I know that customer, he’s a great tipper. You should be just fine.”

You shifted your attention to the table in question, immediately deflating as you saw Taehyun sitting with a friend. You turned around to protest, but Hyunjin was already gone. 

You internally screamed before trudging over to his table, gathering all of your dignity... kissing his arrogant ass wasn’t necessarily on your agenda for today. When Taehyun saw you approach his table, he did little to hide his pleased smirk. You undid your balled fist. 

“Hi. My name is Y/N, I’ll be your server today,” you monotonously stated, an unenthusiastic but convincing smile plastering your face. To any other guest, it would’ve been believable, but Taehyun knew better; your server persona didn’t fool him.

“Y/N. What a pretty name,” his friend observed, a bit too flirtatiously for your liking. Taehyun noticed too, judging from the way he narrowed his eyes and tongued his cheek. And also the way he obviously kicked his friend’s leg under the table. You mustered a sweet smile, hoping to mask your disgust, “Thank you! That’s so… nice. Anyway, what would you like to drink? We got in a new Italian wine, just delivered today.”

“That’s alright, just water.”

“Water.”

Cheap. Especially for a pair of chaebol children. 

“Alright! I’ll be back momentarily,” you informed, smile dropping the instant you turned away. As you trailed back to the kitchen, you heard Taehyun give his friend a hushed reprimanding making you smirk. You passed Yeonjun, noticing he looked as if he was about to lose his sanity. You gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder—for someone so young, he managed well. Of course, he used his handsome face and charm as often as possible; his attractiveness and charisma was dangerous. He managed to grasp the attention of everyone and it aided him greatly. You pressed quizzically, “Jun, you don’t seem good.”

“Says you. You’re lover boy’s server. What a shocking, juicy turn of events. I’m on my toes,” he teased impishly. You stared at him vacantly. Yeonjun continued to poke fun, enjoying the lack of response you gave as you procrastinated to avoid returning to Taehyun’s table, but sadly, there was only so long it could take to fill a glass with water. Yeonjun pouted sympathetically, “Good luck.”

You didn’t need luck. No. To spend a precious hour or more, waiting on a privileged, disgustingly wealthy teenage boy, specifically Kang Taehyun, you needed patience, self-control, and temper management. You reminded yourself of just that as you approached him, placing his water near his plate, “Gentlemen, are you ready to order?”

You jotted down his friend’s order, ignoring the growing complexity as he piled on request after request, no sign of stopping. “... And I need it lukewarm. Not room temperature, but lukewarm.”

You diligently suppressed the eye roll that nearly bubbled up. Honestly, you’d dealt with far worse, Taehyun’s friend didn’t even scratch the surface. 

You had to wonder though, did people like this ever feel shame? 

You faced the cocky redhead, “And for you… Mr. Kang?”

You cringed. He didn’t miss the nearly imperceptible flash of disgust that crossed your expression. He grinned, “Just the lasagna. While you’re at it, I’d like another glass of water.”

“You already have a full glass,” you seethed, glancing at the glass you had just set down. He enjoyed this: testing you, pushing you, slowly dwindling your sanity until you snapped. He wanted to get a reaction from you, anything other than the bored, disinterested expression you gave him every single day. He smiled innocently, “What can I say… I like staying hydrated.”

His amusement was irritating. Unsurprisingly, his torment was based on the stupid, outdated notion that a boy has to show interest by picking on his crush, but you weren’t privy to his inner thought process. You suppressed another eye roll as you turned to grab a pitcher from Hyunjin, the boy sprinting behind you with a full tray. You felt bad for him, at least, until you remembered he pawned Taehyun’s table onto you and your pity became short lived. You filled an empty glass, increasingly aware of Taehyun’s piercing stare. Your emotionless expression would’ve given him no indication as to how nervous you felt if it weren’t for the slight blush that painted your face.  

He smirked victoriously. You hated it.

A breath of relief escaped you as his attention turned to his friend. He leaned back in his seat and lifted a hand to rest behind his head, accidentally smacking the pitcher, causing you to spill the cold water onto his lap. He flinched at the sudden icy contact. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you gasped, fishing a stray napkin from your apron. Normally, he would’ve brushed it off, considering it was his fault, but he felt pressured under the expectant gaze of his snobbish peer. Plus, he gained the reaction he wanted from you... something other than disgust. He feigned offense as he dramatically pushed his seat back and stood up, easily towering over you, “Next time, try not sucking at your job!”

He immediately regretted his outburst but he showed no sign of remorse, not when he had a reputation to uphold. God forbid, he could actually be a considerate person. 

More importantly, though, he pushed too far this time and there wasn’t much turning back. You winced at his tone, withering back from his harsh statement, though you quickly replaced your hurt with unadulterated rage. Your blood boiled as your vision went red, steam practically fuming from your ears. Your pained expression broke his heart and he nearly dropped his act, but before he could do or process anything, his silk shirt was sticking uncomfortably to his body as ice water seeped through. His slacks were drenched and his designer loafers were completely ruined. He didn’t pay much attention to that, though... not when you were an inch from his face, holding an empty water pitcher over his head.

“I quit,” you lowly hissed. You firmly shoved the pitcher into his hand and scoffed as he stumbled back from the force. All eyes were on you as you stalked off, hastily tossing your apron into the nearest trash can. Yeonjun gave you a quick nod, his subtle way of telling you he was proud. 

He’d get your resignation letter another day.

Taehyun helplessly called after you but it was useless. You were too far gone to care. 

· ──────────────────── ·

You slammed your car door shut, absolutely fuming. You blankly stared at the frog keychain hanging from your rearview mirror. Normally, you would’ve smiled at the small figurine, but in the moment, you wanted to punt it into another timezone. It’s cheeriness pissed you off to no end. You quickly fished your phone out to dial Kai’s number, the line ringing thrice before he picked up, groaning, “I’m trying to sleep.”

His voice seemed muffled, likely from the thirty plushies he insisted on sleeping with. 

“It’s dinner time.”

“It’s called a nap, genius.”

“Alright, well, I just quit my job… and I might have dumped a pitcher of water onto Taehyun’s stupid, privileged ass.”

The line fell silent. You wouldn’t have been surprised had he hung up on you—your tendency to act impulsively drove him up the wall and he was nearing his limit. You patiently awaited his response, likely a reprimanding scold. 

“Y/N, what the fuck.”

“He had it coming, I swear,” you promised. In detail, you explained your biased side of the story, ignoring the obvious judgement emanating from the opposite line. The minute you finished, you spotted Taehyun’s panicked figure run into the full parking lot, frantically searching for you; you ducked behind your steering wheel, praying he didn’t see you. You squeaked, cutting off Kai’s tangent, “Oh my God! Oh my God! He followed me!”

He sighed. “If you dumped ice water on me, I’d be chasing after you too.”

You peeked curiously from your spot, seeing he had yet to find you. The cogs in your mind churned slowly, mixing in with your rage, “What if we graffitied his house?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m serious, I want to do it! He can’t just get away with humiliating me in front of the entire club, waitstaff, and my manager. And graffitiing isn’t illegal… ish.”

You could practically picture his narrowed gaze, “It’s definitely, most certainly, illegal. Sunshine, I understand your anger, hell, I’d be outraged, but revenge isn’t always the answer. And graffiti isn’t the most… sound idea.”

You crossed your arms defensively, “It’s a genius idea.”

“It really isn’t.”

“I’m going to do it, regardless of if it’s a good idea or not. You’re either in or out.”

Once more, the line fell quiet. His mind churned, concluding there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d follow through—you were simply too chicken. He laughed, “Fine. I’m in.”

“Great! Find his address, I’ll be over soon.”

You hung up and regained your composure. Taehyun spotted your car as you buckled in your seatbelt, making direct eye contact with your enraged figure. You were surprised, he didn’t seem angry, rather regretful. Almost apologetic. 

But you didn’t care. 

You sped off the lot without sparing him a final glance. 

· ──────────────────── ·

“Have faith in me! Finding his address isn’t going to be hard. You know, I’m a tech whiz, it runs in the family.”

You snickered, “Beomgyu getting accepted into the computer science program at his university doesn’t mean you got the tech gene. You’re the worst with technology, you can’t even remember your laptop login half the time.”

He eyed you challengingly, before cracking his knuckles and typing furiously. Only a single minute had passed before he was yelling, “Jackpot! I found it!”

You were thrown for a loop. He was quite technologically inept, he couldn’t even open a browser without some trouble, let alone find an address. You stared at him quizzically, a smidge of doubt crossing your mind. He deflated, avoiding your hard gaze, “Okay… maybe, just maybe, I called Gyu before you arrived and had him help.”

You snorted. “Yeah, that tracks.”

You sighed and tossed yourself back on his plush bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered on his ceiling. You laughed quietly, you remembered putting them up there—it was really only a year ago. See, Kai had this whole star-sticker-related schtick or as he liked to put it, “Inability to have them as a child which subsequently caused emotional damage.”

You had just returned from a grueling shift and you were exhausted, weak, and insanely pissed—reason being Taehyun, of course.

It was always Taehyun.

In a frivolous attempt to cheer you up, Kai suggested pasting the stickers onto his ceiling. Honestly, it was more stressful than fun. He constantly wobbled around the bed, nearly dropping you several times as you sat perched on his broad shoulders and stuck them up. It kept you busy though, and thus, kept your mind off of Taehyun. 

It was funny, honestly. For someone that swore they hated him, you sure thought about him a lot. He took residence in your mind and you felt like the landlord trying to evict him. 

Even at that moment, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Of course, you were in denial. You told yourself it was natural to be thinking about him; after all, you were going to destroy his property. There was absolutely no other reason as to why he ran free in your mind… none at all. 

Kai knew you were overthinking. It wasn’t hard to tell, especially since your forehead usually tended to crease in the ugliest manner when you did. He tried reeling you out of your daze, “So, we’re going to commit a crime.”

“Yep.”

“... There’s no turning back.”

“I know. I’m not going to chicken out.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, of course you’d chicken out. You always did. He didn’t see any harm in indulging you with your idiotic plan, so he found the address. No harm, no foul. Right?

· ──────────────────── ·

You anxiously picked at the leather seating beneath you, nearly tearing a hole in the worn fabric. 

“Yo, cool it. Jihyo is already pretty fucked up,” Kai warned. Oh, Jihyo. You still couldn’t believe he named his old, rickety car—let alone after his ex. His car looked as if it had a mile left in it before it ultimately broke down, but you had to put some blind trust in Jihyo. After all, she was your getaway car if everything went south. You’d been sitting in Kai’s passenger seat for half an hour, coming up with nearly every excuse not to proceed with the crime.

“We really don’t have to do this. Not to mention, I don’t want to do this,” he grumbled. 

“Then why are you here?”

Imagine his surprise when you showed up at his door, decked out in all-black, stealthy gear, hope and adrenaline coursing through your body. He truly believed you would’ve backed down by now, and a small part of him hoped you still would, but the odds weren’t looking in his favor. 

“I’m not letting you go to jail! I can’t get through the school year without you, especially now that Jihyo—human Jihyo—is starting to spread her stupid, little personal agenda against me. Like, yeah, I broke up with you and that’s rough, but maybe next time, try not being manipulative… or a cheater,” he rambled. You flashed him a sympathetic smile; he said he was over it but you knew better. You patted his arm comfortingly and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, a flustered, shy smile replacing his pout. 

“Guess what? I think I know exactly what’ll make you feel better,” you whispered sweetly. 

His smile instantly turned down into an exasperated frown, “Mhm, let me guess… robbing the rich boy you have a crush on.”

“I don’t have a crush on him! Why would I like him? He yelled at me in front of the entire club! And we’re not robbing him, we’re simply… graffitiing his house. Tastefully. 

“So you admit, you had a crush on him.”

“No! I’m just saying!”

He pointedly rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the castle-like house across the street, not wanting to have that conversation with you. He mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like idiot but you let it slide, instead choosing to focus on the task at hand. 

“Okay, so the gate code is probably something stupid like his birthday, his mom is probably sentimental like that,” you mumbled to yourself. You tapped your foot anxiously as you tried to formulate a coherent plan. You slowly continued, “The only problem is the crazy amount of security cameras around his house. Like, who needs that many cameras? People are dying.”

“God, I hate you,” Kai grumbled.

You ignored him, “There has to be a blind spot, somewhere a camera won’t cover. Hm…” you studied the perimeter, searching for that camera-free sweet spot. At that moment, you found a tiny patch of grass, hidden under a massive oak tree. 

Bingo. 

You shook Kai’s arm aggressively, “Look! Right there, that’s the spot. That tree has to cover the camera.”

He rested his head against the steering wheel, “Let’s get this over with.”

As you both climbed out of his car, you couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. The street was littered with fancy, expensive cars while Jihyo looked like she belonged in the dump, making you even angrier. Kai crept over to the sidewalk, insisting on creeping in the shadows like a vigilante. You, on the other hand, struggled to carry your duffel bag full of equipment, constantly getting slowed down by the exceptional weight. That was your fault though, you packed it full of necessary, outstandingly heavy equipment (necessary being a loose term). Alongside the many cans of paint sat a bag of Goldfish, three juice boxes (because Kai is a massive baby), a faulty navigation system, a not-at-all threatening ski mask, and a broken hammer. 

You didn’t remember packing that hammer. 

You settled in front of Taehyun’s gate, hoping your birthday theory was correct. Of course, simply because it was you and your luck was awful, it wasn’t. You began pressing random keys, hoping something would work but it was fruitless. Nothing worked, not even the basic combinations. You huffed, “I guess we’re going to have to climb our way in.”

You mentally prepared yourself as Kai sent a couple of prayers out for good measure. He eyed your duffel bag curiously before opening it, instantly met with a multitude of spray paint in all shades. He narrowed his eyes and scoffed, “Jesus, Y/N! Where the hell did you get all this shit?”

“... Craigslist.”

“Bullshit, you were kicked off Craigslist years ago.”

You winced, insulted by his easy remark—he knew how sensitive you were about that. You kicked a pebble sheepishly, mumbling softly, “Fine, I bought the paint from Soobin…”

His eyes widened comically as his heart practically ripped out of his chest, “Soobin?! Choi Soobin?! You can’t be serious. No, there’s no way you bought from the school drug dealer! He’s a criminal! He probably tried to toss in some of that devil’s lettuce with your purchase, huh? Or worse… crack!”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your head back, he was always so dramatic. “Kai, he’s not a criminal. He’ll occasionally sell an edible or two, but that’s it! He didn’t try to sell me anything. Actually, he gave me a pretty good deal on this stuff.”

“Lovely, a modern-day businessman,” he grumbled sarcastically. 

“Whatever, just help me climb the wall,” you huffed, zipping up your bag before tossing it over the blockade. Hesitantly, he got on one knee, muttering something you couldn’t quite hear—not that you wanted to anyways. You delicately stood on his knee as he pushed on your thighs in an attempt to boost you over. 

Honestly, you struggled. Your weak muscles did little to aid in your quest, but Kai’s strength helped. 

“God, take your sweet time, it’s not like your flat, piece of plywood ass is dangling in front of my face or anything. I’m about to throw up,” he gagged. 

You scoffed, “Yeah, yeah, complain all you want but this is the most action you’ll ever see.”

“... I won’t hesitate to drop you on your face.”

However, before he could follow on his threat, you managed to hoist yourself over the brick wall. You offered a hand to Kai but instead of accepting, he eyed it mockingly, knowing you weren’t strong enough to lift him. He stretched his legs before taking a step back, giving him a running start, and surprising you both when he successfully lifted himself.

You placed your hand over his mouth, “Shh.. whisper. We’re in enemy territory now.”

He licked your palm, nearly making you screech, “Gross!”

He childishly stuck his tongue out. You shook your head and began scrounging the duffel bag for the perfect paint color. Of course, you wanted to create a masterpiece worthy of Kang Taehyun... you even considered tagging it. Kai silently sat on the grass, aimlessly picking at the freshly-cut blades as he watched you happily paint. 

You were pleased to say that in the half an hour you’d been painting, nothing had gone awry... yet.

“The fuck is that supposed to be?” he questioned curiously, leaning closer to inspect the vulgar work. 

“Taehyun,” you said easily.

“Really? ‘Cause it looks like a dick.”

“It’s called symbolism, Kai.” You stepped back to admire your work as if it were hung in the Louvre whilst Kai scrunched his nose, clearly offended by the unpleasant art.

“You know, it’s funny how you have the biggest crush on this dic—” Before he could further elaborate, he was interrupted by an awfully familiar voice. 

“What the hell are you doing on my front lawn?”

You cringed. You’d been caught red-handed. 

Kai turned slowly, surrendering with his hands up. You, however, kept your back turned, considering just going to hell with it and continuing your tasteful artwork. He glanced at you anxiously, silently pleading for you to put down the paint can. 

Only because Kai looked a second away from fainting, you huffed and turned around, mimicking his pose, the only difference being the bored expression plastered on your face. 

Taehyun stood in front of you, his arms crossed and irritation painted all over his body language, but as much as he tried to hide it, there was a glint of amusement behind his eyes. You hated how his obnoxious, stop sign hair managed to look amazing under the glow of the moonlight—it was beyond irritating. Arguably, his entire being was irritating. You held his gaze, silently challenging his presence. Kai, on the other hand, was sweating profusely and dramatically hyperventilating. He clutched onto your shoulder, failing to catch an actual breath, “Oh my God! I feel like my heart is pumping out lukewarm sewer water.”

He placed his hands on his knees as he hunched over and continued, “Please, Taehyun. Please, don’t hit me with your Lamborghini. I’m begging you.”

Taehyung blankly stared at the younger, completely forgetting he was even there. You rubbed your temple and hissed, “Will you shut the fuck up? You’re making this worse.”

“I don’t want to go to jail! My face is too pretty for jail, they’d murder me on sight for being the most gorgeous boy they’ve ever seen. God, please don’t call the cops… I’ll do anything,” Kai shamelessly begged. You were so close to punting him into the Pacific Ocean. Taehyun’s annoyingly gorgeous lips twisted into a smug grin as he directed his attention back on you, “Hm, and what about you, Princess? I don’t see you begging.”

You scoffed, “I’d rather eat Kai’s shoe.”

He simply hummed, “That’s too bad. You know, I have a family friend who’s a cop… I’ll convince him to go easy on you in jail.”

“The wealthy wielding control over the justice system… how unexpected.”

“Oh my God! Y/N’s kidding, she’ll do anything,” Kai blurted quickly, shooting you a death glare. Taehyun’s eyebrow lifted curiously, a satisfied smirk settling comfortably, “Is that true?”

“What the hell do you want?” you questioned hesitantly. 

“A date.”

You briefly considered his words before shoving Kai forward, “Yeah, go nuts. He’s all yours.”

“... With you.”

You threw your head back and let out an inappropriate, hearty laugh. Even Kai let out a small snicker before replacing it with a fake cough, but Taehyun didn’t seem amused. He watched you expectantly, awaiting an answer. 

“So this is the only way Kang Taehyun can score a date… by blackmailing them. You know, that actually makes sense,” you theorized to no one in particular. You simmered in silence for a short moment before Kai cleared his throat, hinting at his obvious discomfort. Taehyun was enjoying this, you just knew it. 

That broken hammer never looked better...

“Fine,” you conceded. You glared at him, biting your tongue to prevent you from going off on his pompous ass. Taehyun’s eyes lit up with hope. 

Kai let out a breath of relief before mumbling an apology and dragging you off the lawn. His grip on you tightened as you turned around one last time to shoot daggers at Taehyun. He stood comfortably in the middle of his manicured lawn, the porch lights behind him highlighting his pleased smirk, yet all you saw was red.

· ──────────────────── ·

Kai splayed across your bed, mindlessly picking at a random throw pillow while you spritzed a hint of perfume on your forearm. His gaze trailed over your figure curiously, “You’re quite dressed up for someone who’d rather sleep in a dumpster than go on this date.”

“Well I’m not about to walk into high society wearing a stained sweatshirt and joggers.”

He snorted, “Right, that’s the only reason.” You smoothed your shirt and gave yourself a once over, feeling quite confident in your choice of clothing. Kai wasn’t blind, he thought you looked nice, but he’d let pigs fly before he told you that. He continued, “You don’t look… that ugly.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that was the closest you’d ever get to a compliment from him, “Thanks.”

“Do you know where he’s taking you?” 

“Nope.”

If you were being honest, you didn’t care where he took you; you didn’t set any conscious expectations. 

“Oh! Before I forget…” Kai smirked as he dug around his backpack. He tossed you a small, blue bottle of mouthwash. He winked cheekily, “You never know… mayhaps you’ll kiss him.”

You nearly threw up, “I most certainly will not be kissing anyone tonight, especially not his pretentious ass. Besides, you know about my rule.”

He groaned. He definitely knew about your rule, it was all you talked about after getting dumped by your last ex. After your last failed relationship (or four) you created a no-kiss policy for your first three dates. You wanted to make sure your kisses weren’t in vain, and honestly, it was fun just watching them work for it. 

“The rule is dumb,” he reminded. 

“... You’re dumb.”

You were busy dodging a pillow when your doorbell rang, signaling Taehyun’s arrival. You were shocked he didn’t just notify his presence by honking his horn—for a pompous ass such as himself, you wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“It’s time,” you mumbled somberly. 

“He isn’t the Grim Reaper. This is a date, it’s supposed to be a happy thing!” he tried encouraging sweetly as you stalked down the staircase, but to no avail, your mood didn’t lighten in the slightest. 

You aggressively swung open your front door, nearly knocking Kai unconscious. Taehyun dressed simple but pleasant; his expensive, black sweater was expertly tucked into a nice set of slacks and the Cartier bracelet that adorned his wrist, perfectly accentuated his veins. His bright, red hair was styled messily and his cheeks were flushed, beautifully highlighting his angled nose and sharp jawline. Your mouth gaped, just slightly, as you drank him in—while he was always attractive, this specific look had you stunned. He held a single rose against his chest and it only made him look more ethereal, if that was even possible. When you looked up, you instantly noted the hint of panic in his eyes, which made you feel at ease. 

“Taehyun,” you blankly addressed.

“Y/N! You look amazing, so beautiful…” he trailed as he handed you the rose. You grabbed it and immediately shoved it into Kai’s chest.

“Let’s get this over with,” you grumbled, pushing past him and harshly hitting his shoulder.

“... Right.”

“Hey, try not to murder him, I can’t afford bail. I make minimum wage,” Kai reminded, flashing Taehyun a sympathetic smile as the older trailed closely behind you. You were about to open his car door when he came rushing by, insisting on opening it for you. In return, you sent him a nasty glare, “I’m capable of opening my own door.”

“I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

“A gentleman doesn’t go off on someone in the middle of a public space,” you reminded.”

He sighed. A mere five minutes into the date and he already felt defeated. He wished he could form a proper apology, but it would be futile—you’d just shut him down. So he decided to express his apology in the form of something he knew you’d accept; needless to say, he had a trick or two up his Gucci sleeve. 

You kept your gaze focused on anything but him. Your arms were folded across your chest, the evident frown on your face doing very little to hide your irritation. Despite that, he still thought you looked beautiful… granted, every single time he spoke to you, you wore a frown so this wasn’t new to him. 

“You look so pretty,” he complimented as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“I know.”

Of course he deserved every ounce of your cold, unwelcoming demeanor, but it still hurt. He was flushed but you didn’t notice since you made an obvious effort to scoot as far away from him as possible, practically pressing yourself up against the car door. However, the painful silence quickly overwhelmed you, so you hesitantly threw him a bone, “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise but I know you’ll like it. It’s my way of apologizing.”

“This better be a hell of an apology.”

“I promise you it is.”

You noticed his sincerity. His usual cockiness was replaced with shyness and a twinge of guilt, and you found it endearing. You stayed quiet for the remainder of the car ride, only a small sound of confusion as he pulled into a half-empty parking lot of a local carnival. A young employee approached the car and gave Taehyun a permitting nod, making you suspicious. He drove past the entrance gate and straight into a private space, parking next to a dinky, old ice cream truck. The space was close to a nearby forest, a bit too secluded for your taste.

“So you’re going to kill me,” you observed, scanning the dark environment around you.

He rolled his eyes. “No.”

“That’s what a murderer would say,” you mumbled.

You were so stubborn, he knew that, yet he still let out an exasperated sigh. He frowned and climbed out of his car, shuffling to your side, only to find you were already halfway out. You didn’t say anything, choosing to send another hard glare his way instead.

He headed in the direction of the carnival—not the forest—and gestured you to follow him. You trailed behind, ignoring the damp mud that stuck to the bottom of your cheap shoes. You felt a bit overdressed, but when you glanced at Taehyun, you felt better. However, the more you thought about it, his outfit likely cost more than your college tuition, putting a slight dent in your ego. You focused your attention on the glowing moon instead of him, and when he turned to look at you, he was in awe. You seemed peaceful, or at least, not as pissed. 

It was nice.

He led you down to the middle of the fair where you saw a crowd gathered around a massive dunk tank. He seemed antsy, constantly shifting his weight and picked at the hem of his costly shirt. He momentarily abandoned your side and walked to the dunk tank operator, speaking briefly before grabbing a bucket filled of unknown stuff. 

When he walked back, you stared curiously at the bucket which was full of heavy baseballs. “This is my apology.”

Vague. 

As if he read your mind, he gently placed his hand on your shoulder and turned you to face the tank, pointing directly at the chair above the pool. “I’m going to be sitting on that chair. Your job is to throw them,” he gestured over to the bullseye, “at the target, until I’m submerged.”

You couldn’t suppress your smile. He was right, this was an apology you’d accept, an apology in the form of embarrassment. Smart boy. 

He didn’t necessarily look forward to ruining his cashmere sweater, but he would’ve done anything to make it up to you, and your bright smile told him he was on the right path. You let out a light laugh, picking up a baseball and tossing it carelessly. 

He spared you a final glance before shuffling off to his fate. He seemed to garner a lot of attention, the crowd had grown significantly larger since you first arrived. You held the ball in your hand as he climbed onto the chair—you were arguably a little too excited to send him into the cold, cold water. He seemed shaky, but you didn’t care. You threw the ball with no hesitation. 

Strike one. You missed by a long shot.

He suppressed a laugh. You shook your body, ridding yourself of any anxiousness before trying once more. 

Strike two. You were closer. Barely.

You had an unlimited amount of attempts, but the longer you failed, the more embarrassed you felt. He now seemed comfortable... prideful, even. Your face was flushed red from humiliation, but you tried to keep it from affecting you as you threw once more, this time, significantly more aggressive. 

Strike three. This was outright shameful.

“C’mon, you can do better than that…” he baited. He couldn’t help but tease, it didn’t matter that you were on a date. The crowd let out a collective laugh. You scoffed indignantly, cracking your neck and back, your stare darkening. You were about to hit the winning shot, he knew it. He loosened his grip on the chair and leaned forward.

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed. 

The longing, heartfelt expression in his eyes had you flustered. You nodded understandingly, reeling in his genuine apology, and flashing him a sympathetic, sincere smile before throwing the baseball straight at the bullseye, sending him (and his expensive outfit) straight into the tank. 

You pumped a fist in the air as the crowd cheered. He emerged from the stale water, completely drenched. He shook hair away from his eyes before climbing from the tank and into a changing room, but not before finding your figure in the crowd. You wore a gentle, soft smile; for the first time, you looked at him with something other than hatred. 

It gave him hope. 

After changing, he appeared by your side as the crowd slowly dispersed, dressed a lot more comfortably. He changed into a pair of fitted (and designer, you just knew it) joggers and a clean, simple sweatshirt, pulled together with a silver chain hanging from his neck. He went from runway to streetwear yet he managed to look absolutely fantastic and it irked you. He seemed expectant yet nervous, constantly shifting his feet and biting his bottom lip. He needed reassurance and suddenly, you weren’t hesitant to provide it. 

After a minute of painful silence, you conceded. “I forgive you.”

A deep sigh of relief escaped him. He’d practically been holding his breath since that day and all of a sudden, this weight had been lifted off his chest. A wave of solace washed over him, “Thank god. I didn’t know what I would’ve done if that didn’t work.”

You giggled softly. He short-circuited for a mere second; being the cause of your melodious laugh had him speechless. It was all new to him. Your laugh was so sweet, soft, and a drastic contrast from the person he was used to. He yearned to hear it again. 

You peered up at him without saying a word.

He coughed awkwardly. “Right, uh, that didn’t take long at all. Let’s get you home, this was a waste of your time, I’m so sorry,” he rambled, turning in the direction of his car. You tilted your head questioningly. The night was still young and you had no interest in going back home. You were pleasantly surprised, all it took was a simple apology for your hidden, buried feelings to surface, though you knew how hard it was for him to apologize. Maybe that’s why you were so easy to forgive. You reached for his sleeve and gently tugged him back, “You asked me out on a date, so let’s do it.”

Going on an actual date was the last thing he expected. His plan for the night was to pick you up, try his best not to offend you more than he already had, and get dunked into some dirty, stale water. Of course he couldn’t refuse, seeing as his heart nearly soared from his chest. He nodded eagerly, “Y-yeah! Yeah! Okay, let’s have a date. Okay, uh, this is a carnival, right? I have to win you a plushie then, that’s just basic, carnival date knowledge. That’s the rule.”

You snorted. “Can’t break the rules then.”

He led you on over to the strength machine, eager to showcase his brawn—he hoped to impress you. His boyish mentality made you laugh, as endearing as it was, you couldn’t help but find it primitive and a bit childish. Nonetheless, you indulged him. He fished change from his wallet and you couldn’t help but notice the shiny, heavy, black card sitting comfortable in his wallet’s compartment; you suppressed an instinctual eye roll. He held the massive hammer in hand, attempting to hide the fact that it slightly weighed him down, despite his muscular build. He flashed you a confident wink before raining the hammer down on the target, sending the marker less than halfway up the pole. You coughed in an attempt to hide your laughter, you didn’t want to embarrass him, he’d already been dunked into a tank of mucky water. 

He stood dumbfounded, “Okay, this is rigged.”

“Mhm, right.”

“Fine, hotshot. Give it a whirl then,” he challenged. You raised an eyebrow cockily, yanking the hammer from his hand. It was simple, all you had to do was send the marker higher than his. You smugly grinned before trying your luck, the marker barely rising an inch. 

He slapped his knee and cackled. You were offended.

“This is rigged,” you mumbled. 

“S’ok, love. There’s plenty of other stuff to do that isn’t rigged,” he encouraged, throwing a side eye at the gamer operator who simply shrugged in return. He slung an arm around your shoulder, choosing not to dwell on the way his heartbeat sped, “Let’s go get you a prize.”

· ──────────────────── ·

For him to win you a singular prize, it took a game of whack-a-mole, a shared slice of pizza, a tuft of cotton candy, a vigorous pep talk, and sprinkle of beginner’s luck. It was a cheap, funky-looking ring, but you wore it with the utmost pride. 

You both talked excessively, really getting to know each other, and with each new detail, he fell harder. Your shy smile, adorable laugh, witty sense of humor… they were all just a bonus. Normally, you weren’t one to fall, if at all, but you found yourself going against your instinct and doing just that. In hindsight, though, it’d been a long time coming. He was hesitant to initiate any sort of skinship, considering you’d forgiven him an hour prior, but you proved opposite after you mindlessly reached for his hand the second you spotted your favorite ride.

“The spinning teacup! That’s a must!” You both felt the spark from the contact, it was unmistakable, but you both chose not to say anything. He let you drag him over, despite his aversion to the particular ride; he just couldn’t say no. 

“Fine, but promise me you won’t spin fast.”

“Pinky promise.”

As the cup turned, albeit at snail pace, he admired the light wind that flowed delicately through your hair. You had a certain aura, he couldn’t help but notice. It was enchanting. The moonlight kissed your skin beautifully, it had him watching in infatuated awe. 

“You’re staring.”

“Pssh, I’m not staring.” You eyed him and he crinkled his nose, “Fine, I was staring. I can’t help it, you’re beautiful.”

He didn’t know where the sudden confidence came from, perhaps it was just the motion sickness, but he didn’t regret it. You turned away from him, clearly flustered, and it made him smile. The ride ended quicker than he expected, but it was a welcomed relief, considering his well-being. The second he stepped from the cup, he fell to the floor. 

“I barely spun the cup! It turned, like, a mile an hour!”

“I’m sensitive! I get sick easily.” He lifted himself off the ground, just slightly, continuing with a corny joke. “Look at me on the floor, I guess some might say… I fell for you.”

You snorted, not at the cheesy line, but the aggressive finger-gun that accompanied it. He tried to wink but failed, immediately hunching over from the queasy feeling in his stomach, “Oh my God, I’m going to die.”

He made an ugly, inhuman noise. 

“Jesus Christ. Are you okay?”

“No, it’s fine, I’m great. I just think it’s my time to go.”

He reminded you a lot of Kai—both of them had an affinity for being overly dramatic.

You rubbed his back soothingly. He felt so embarrassed, but the feeling was overshadowed by the sickly feeling. You continued caressing, making sure to glare at anyone that dared judge him. You crouched down until you were eye level and brushed his hair from his forehead, giving him a small smile. At that moment, he could’ve sworn you were an angel of some sort. He felt better instantly. 

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine,” he insisted, waving his hand carelessly, telling you not to worry.

“Let’s just head home. I’ll have Kai pick us up, he’ll definitely do it.” You paused, crinkling your forehead in thought, “Scratch that, he just got his license and ran over a cone yesterday.” 

He stood up slowly, waving his hand once more. “In the recipe for a perfect carnival date, the ferris wheel is a must.”

You didn’t like where he was going with that. 

“You’re going to hurl if we go on that. For real, this time.”

He rested his hand atop his heart. “I won’t! I swear.”

“I don’t know...”

He laced his hand with your own and pulled you to the carnival’s main attraction. He fiddled with the ring on your finger, proudly glancing at it every once in a while.

Just your luck, a slightly younger couple was paired with you on the ferris wheel. The ride operator shoved the four of you into the cramped, tiny compartment, ignoring the silent plea Taehyun sent her way. The other couple sat hesitantly with a noticeable distance between them, awkwardly shifting every now and then. The young men—one blond, one with raven black hair—stayed quiet and you couldn’t help but think they were also on their first date. They often glanced at each other but didn’t talk and Taehyun had to hide his amusement. All four of you simmered in uncomfortable silence for a good portion of the ride. 

Taehyun unconsciously threw an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close as you laid your head on his shoulder. It was a subtle display of affection that made you blush, but he didn’t notice. Out of the corner of his eyes, Taehyun watched the blond boy copy his movement, just significantly clumsier—the poor boy accidentally smacked his boyfriend square on the nose. It took a lot for Taehyun (and you) to suppress an amused laugh.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” whispered the blond. His boyfriend let out a small, nervous laugh, “It’s okay.”

The black-haired boy gently rubbed his nose before reaching for his boyfriend’s hand—a simple compromise. The blond avoided eye contact with you and Taehyun, choosing to shift his gaze to the carnival below. The black-haired boy spoke first, “We’re kind of… new to dating.”

The blond cringed, still looking at the fair, before nodding in agreement. You giggled at the obvious tension, quickly comforting, “It’s cute! You two seem like an adorable couple.”

The couple smiled fondly at each other. The blond squeezed his boyfriend’s hand reassuringly and it made you smile. They seemed so in love, you were swooning. The remainder of the ride was silent and the couple chose to get off the ride after the first go-around. The blond meekly nodded his head in Taehyun’s direction and your boy gently returned the gesture with a shy, caring smile. 

As soon as they were out of earshot, you both broke into a fit of laughter, “Oh my God! He was totally copying you, that’s adorable!”

Taehyun gushed, “They both were so flustered! Too cute.”

You both spent the next go-around giggling, conversing about nothing, and sharing sweet, longing gazes. The carnival beneath you slowly began shutting down, each area turning their lighting off one by one. You kept your hand laced with his and while you glanced down the dying fair, he lovingly gazed at you. 

“I guess that’s our cue to leave.” You gestured below. He trained his gaze to the lack of vivid lighting around the carnival and sighed, “Yeah, I guess so.”

He squeezed your hand tighter. You didn’t want to part from him so soon and he shared your exact sentiment. 

· ──────────────────── ·

As Taehyun pulled into your driveway, you instantly spotted Kai’s silhouette lurking in your bedroom window.

“Jesus Christ,” you grumbled.

Kai had spent his night waiting for you to come home, eager to hear your nightmarish tale. He planned to head to his house and simply wait for your inevitable call, but when he left to grab takeout, he found himself straying back to your house. Your mother must’ve let him in, granted he was also gifted a key and he used it regularly. Your mind suddenly short-circuited by the feeling of Taehyun’s hand atop your own. If you noticed his tremble and clamminess, you didn’t mention it. 

He cleared his throat, “Let me walk you to your door.”

You sheepishly nodded, anxious to speak. If yesterday, someone had told you you would be this shy at the end of the night, you would’ve laughed in their face. He rushed to open your door and you let him, much to his surprise, without any snarky remark. The short distance to your front door didn’t stop him from holding your hand, leaving you a giggly, flustered mess.

You could practically feel Kai’s smirk. 

Taehyun stood awkwardly, frequently shifting his weight, while you nervously picked at your fingernail, both waiting for the other to break the silence. He took the first leap of faith, “I had a great time tonight, I hope you did too.”

You were too focused on his calloused thumb tracing soothing circles along the back of your hand, making you lose your train of thought, “Yeah! Yes! So fun!”

You winced at your overly enthusiastic response. The luminous light, hanging haphazardly above you did little to hide your anxiousness. He chuckled softly, glad he wasn’t the only nervous one, “That’s good to hear.”

“I’m sorry you nearly threw up.” You both cringed at the recent memory. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, “Don’t worry. Weirdly, that’s not the worst thing to happen to me on a date.”

You tilted your head curiously, you wished to hear his story. Frankly, you found yourself wishing to hear everything about him, but before anything, you needed to get some stuff off your own chest. “I’m also sorry about other stuff. I have more to apologize than you, even before the incident, I was always so abrasive and mean, and I want to apologize for that. And, I, uh, also kind of broke into your house… so obviously I’m sorry about that too. Not to mention, I thin—” 

He placed his hand on your cheek and caressed softly, making you quiet. “It’s water under the bridge.”

You shyly smiled, looking away from his adoring gaze. He tried mustering up a cheesy line but he found himself losing focus, his eyes constantly straying to your lips; he couldn’t help it, he really wanted to kiss you. He sucked in a deep breath, gathering the courage to just do it, even though he knew you’d likely reject his advance. After all, it was just the first date and you only forgave him three hours ago.

Not to mention, Kai stole your phone to get Taehyun’s number just to inform him of your strict no-kiss policy.

He hesitantly brushed your hair behind your ear before leaning in slowly, his plush, attractive lips easily tempting you. Unfortunately for him, you kept to your rule. You splayed your hand across his chest before pushing him back gently, “Nice try, Romeo.”

He wasn’t surprised, it was a long shot anyways. He’d just regret it if he didn’t try. He nodded understandingly before leaning in once more, this time to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t hide the obvious blush that dusted your cheeks, making him grin. Maybe you weren’t as tough as you liked to seem. 

He felt hopeful.

“So for our next date, I was thinking mini golf,” he said enthusiastically. His eyes sparkled with excitement; he seemed thrilled, you couldn’t help but giggle, “Easy there tiger, I don’t recall ever saying anything about a second date.”

He leaned in to plant a kiss on your cheek, pulling away only slightly to whisper, “I think I’ll be getting another date.”

He was right. He was definitely getting another date… and maybe, just maybe, you’d break your no-kiss rule.

[wildheartsalwaysburn]

Sex on Fire (by Kings of Leon) || C.W.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x fem!reader summary: Charlie and y/n are celebrating their anniversary with some sexual fantasy they've had in mind for ages: sex on a dragon's back. a/n: If there would be any real dragons around, I'd highly recommend not try this at home. They are some very empathic and highkey intelligent creatures with a serious bonding issue, so any activities on their back are only happening with their consent! Also I think Charlie is such a caring and sensitive person, so this is gonna be the real "love-making" art of sex.

warnings: Smut18+, unprotected intercourse, a few swear words but actually it's fluff-smut words: 1.609

If you like it feel free to like, comment and reblog <3 Also if you wanna be put on my taglist, let me know!

"And you are sure he gave us permission?", y/n asked while she undressed completely and put on her new piece of lingerie. Her boyfriend, while taking off his shirt and pants, chuckled: "Again, love. We talked about this and it's an honour for him. Fedir won't hurt us, he never did. You know him." Fedir was one of y/n's favourite dragons in the reservate Charlie was working at and a 26 feet tall Ukrainian Ironbelly. Due to their international reputation of being one of the most dangerous breeds, her worries were eligible. But she trusted her boyfriend more than anyone else. He planned something very special for their 3 years anniversary: having sex on a dragon's back. The couple has talked about this fantasy so many times, he had no choice but finally try it out now with y/n. Charlie, completely naked, grabbed the kilt y/n had gifted him for Christmas. He never knew what to do with this but today it hit him that his girlfriend had got something in her mind when choosing this thing as a present. The man was bobbing eagerly with his feet until his girlfriend came out of the bathroom. Only an opaque gown encased her body, still keeping her best parts a secret. His amber eyes widened when finally seeing her and a hint of blush appeared on his freckled cheeks. Y/n smirked when noticing: "So after all these times you're still blushing when seeing me like this?" She walked closer to him and put her arms around his neck. Her hands were playing with his long ginger hair, which he had tied up in a ponytail all the time. As a response Charlie just pulled her even closer and started kissing her impetuously. His hands were running all over her in a silk covered body, grabbing her thighs firmly before lifting her up and pressing his girlfriend against the wall. Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing his hard crotch against her hips, just one layer of tartan separated him from her sweet entrance. Her hands were running over his strong arms trailing the freckles on his skin up to his shoulders again before she buried her fingers in his hair. When the ginger started kissing and sucking on her neck, she couldn't help but moan his name quietly. As if this was a signal Charlie stopped and breathed against y/n's soft skin: "We should continue outside, princess…" one soft kiss more on her cheek, " It'll be worth it, I promise."

It was a warm summer day without any breeze. The crystal clear sky above them seemed like a perfect invitation for their plan. Fedir was already waiting on a small hill, his silver scales glistening in the sunlight. When seeing the couple coming closer, he spread his wings on the ground to make it easier for them to climb up his back. "How do we actually...sit here, Charlie?", y/n asked slightly doubting that anything would work out on there. Her boyfriend smirked: "Let me handle this, love." Before she knew, he already lifted her up with ease and pulled her on his lap, which made her gasp of surprise and affection. Through the delicate fabric covering her thighs, she could already feel his hardness, so she started to get more confident again. As if Charlie could read her mind, he pulled her even closer, his strong hands on her back, wandering underneath the silk. "Looks like we can get on, now", the dragon tamer growled with a voice as deep as the ocean but as warm and sweet as fresh honey. He even smelled like this, which made y/n go crazy everytime she noticed. Just like at this exact moment. She pressed her lips eagerly on his, her hands on his warm face, pressing her body on his with pure relish. With a small, almost unnoticeable hand sign, Charlie told the dragon to fly off. The moment they raised into the afternoon sky, he mumbled into the kiss, telling his heated girlfriend to hold onto him. So she did, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, her hands tangled softly in his hair and her cooch exposed towards his hips. He could feel her getting wet, what made him even more excited to go further. His hands wandered from her back to her bum, squeezing it firmly while one hand went around her hips in between her thighs and up to her slit. There he started to caress her clit with his fingers and he knew exactly how to make her feel good. When feeling him down there y/n started moaning into the fiery kisses, Charlie taking the chance to slide his tongue in her mouth dancing with hers as if they were two snogging teenagers again. The air between them was getting hotter with every second, their bodies burning from lust and desire for each other. Sometimes a low breeze was waving through them causing some goosebumps on their skin. But the lovers didn't mind at all, it made them feel like being completely free. "I want you, Charlie.", her voice sounded quite desperate, "Please." To emphasize her craving for his hard cock, she pressed herself onto his lap slowly moving back and forth, slightly massaging him to get even harder. Her hand stroke over his broad shoulders, down to his strong tensed biceps, back again to his muscular chest where she dag into his freckled skin. Charlie hissed quietly due to the short pain but it turned him on even more, since he knew she was doing this because she wanted him really bad. And he liked that. So he opened his kilt and pushed the tartan fabric aside, exposing his huge, stiff member. Without hesitation he scooped up his girlfriend with one arm, his hand leaving her wet slit to get a hold on her thigh. The sudden cold air between her legs made her shiver for a second before the dragon they were sitting on was flapping his wings, making her lose balance and Charlie's hard cock sliding into her all of a sudden. Both gasped in surprise, the sudden pleasurable feeling running down their spines, stirring up the already heated atmosphere between them even more. Y/n's hands laid on her boyfriends warm, freckled shoulders, her legs tensed and pressed against his thighs, moving rhythmically up and down to give Charlie the pleasure he deserved. To show his appreciation, he pulled her hair slightly back, so her neck stretched and he could cover her in kisses, most of them soft but sometimes he couldn't help but sucking on her skin, leaving small hickeys. His lips rushed over her neck and throat, his tongue traced her muscles and veins down to her breasts where he started to carefully bite her nipples. All of this made y/n even more wet, she moaned out loud since nobody

was up there to hear them anyway, her arms were embracing Charlie's strong body tighter with every thrust of him inside her. The dragon's wavelike motion intensified the pounding of his huge cock inside her, hitting her G-spot, slowly getting her to the edge. She could feel he was almost ready, too. His body moved more erratically, his hands grabbed her breasts and bum more roughly, his whole behaviour became more demanding, more eager. The thrusts got faster. Her moans got louder. Their kisses got more fierce, tongues nearly battling to win over the other. Heat was rising up in both of them. "Oh fuck...Charlie…", every word of hers was just breathed heavily between snogging, "I-I'm about to come…" She moaned the last words out loud, feeling his hot breath against her cheeks when he begged her to wait for him. "Let's...come together", his voice sounded raucous, as if a warm firewhiskey was running down his throat. Charlie took y/n blushing face in his right hand, making her look at him, locking his amber eyes with her y/e/c ones. "Fuck...babe...I-" - "...love you." she smiled briefly when finishing his sentence, putting his freckle covered face in her hand as well, reaching her climax shortly before he did. A wave of pure heat, serotonin and delight was rushing through their bodies. He still thrusted a few times after that, wanting to make her feel good. Her body collapsed on his, shivering and sweating heavily. His face still in her hand y/n laid her forehead on his one, her sign of purest affection and love. Charlie's body relaxed then as well, he let out a deep breath of satisfaction, smiling when she touched his face. "Damn, y/n. How did I get so lucky?", he chuckled. His girlfriend, completely out of breath, just chuckled, shrugging her shoulders and pecked his lips. His arms were scooping her body, lifting her up a little to get out of her. She shifted herself in a more comfortable position, sitting between his legs nowm the silky gown loosely hanging around her shoulders. The air around them was cooler now, but she wasn't cold, protected by her boyfriend's warm body, and he was never cold actually. "What about we keep enjoying this view up here a while, before taking some hot bath together, down on earth?" Y/n stressed the word hot with a small smirk, holding Charlie's hands who blushed a little but chuckled when she suggested this. "A hot bath seems perfect to me, princess." - "So round two then?" her smirk was getting wider. "Round two, then.", he winked, squeezing her slightly.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Taglist: @marturavera

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Chicken Debacle

Summary:  There’s nothing Emma loves more than watching her husband work up a sweat, but being right certainly comes in a close second. In which a hot day, a flock of fowl, and a naughty Emma work together to make good use of some patio furniture. 

Rating: Explicit 

Tags: Humor, Pregnant Emma, Pregnant Sex  

Many thanks to all of my lovelies over on the discord - a truly inspiring bunch who prompted my muse to take what was a rather frustrating real life situation and turn it into something a bit more fun, and a bit more naughty.  

AO3 - FF

The Chicken Debacle

“You're not going to help?” Killian asked, eyebrows darting up in surprise as he swept his arm across the backyard, gesturing toward the small flock of chickens currently digging through the garden and flower beds.

Emma caught the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth, her cheeks warming as she bit back a smile.

“Nope, sorry, babe,” she shrugged, running her hands down the large swell of her stomach, “I probably shouldn't be chasing chickens seven months pregnant. Besides, I'm not the one who forgot to shut the latch on the gate.”

His eyes narrowing at her accusation, Killian looked as if he were about to argue, but finally sighed and started toward the closest chicken, the heavyset, yellow fowl bobbing her head suspiciously as he drew near, her feathers ruffling as she shook herself and pecked viciously at the ground – readying herself for a fight, Killian imagined.

“I'll keep you company though,” Emma called out, grabbing her iced tea and laying back on the lounger – smothering a laugh behind her hand as her husband leaped toward the chicken only to have it kick up a cloud of mulch in his face and dart between his legs, making for the nearest bush.

“I'm very grateful indeed,” her husband quipped as he turned and reevaluated the situation, casting his eyes around the yard to see if there was anything he could use to ensnare the unsuspecting birds. “Enjoying your iced tea, Swan?”

“Yup, delicious,” she purred, enjoying the way the hot sun was glancing off the sheen on his chest, the summer hot enough that even the smallest amount of activity outside was enough to make them both sweat. “Perfect for a hot day – oh, our little one just kicked!”

A look of genuine contentment washed over Emma's face as she rested her free hand on her belly, her hair falling to frame her cheeks as she whispered something he couldn't hear to the child growing within her – and just like that the frustration fell from his shoulders, replaced with a love so deep he wouldn't begrudge his beautiful wife anything, not even the opportunity to hold something as trivial as the chicken gate over his head, but...that didn't mean he couldn't make his Swan work up a sweat of her own while doing it.

Emma had just looked up from the gently undulating swell of her belly when she saw Killian standing in the middle of their yard, his fingers folded around the edge of his shirt as he lifted the hem up and over his body, his abs and pectorals flexing as he tossed it to the ground nearby, shoulders rolling as he stretched and eyed the closest chicken with a determination Emma recognized immediately– those poor birds were in for it.

She watched as he lunged forward, his sneakers shifting in the grass as he chased the chicken toward a corner of the fencing, just managing to snatch it by the leg before carefully folding its wings in and lowering her over the fence back into the run, the only sign of a bruised ego some few ruffled feathers.

He rounded on the next bird, a smaller one that Emma liked to call Cinnamon – although they were pretty sure she'd never laid, and were somewhat concerned she didn't seem to know she was a chicken at all, preferring to spend her time stubbornly following around the chipmunks and squirrels that frequented the yard. While she wasn't the smartest of the bunch, she was quick, and Emma had to bite back a chuckle as Killian stumbled more than once trying to get near her – eventually giving up and moving on to the larger fowl digging in the raspberries.

Emma enjoyed the cool slip of iced tea down her throat as she feasted on her husband – his skin glistening in the sun as he moved, each hard line and muscle calling out to be touched, stroked, lavished with the sweep of her tongue as she slid her palms over the ridged planes of his stomach, moving lower until she could curl her fingers around the waistband of his shorts and slowly peel them down, her nose parting the thatch of dark curls that surrounded his thick, glorious –

“Ha!” Killian let out a triumphant yell, drawing Emma's mind back to what he was doing, two rather disgruntled looking hens fidgeting in his arms as he hurried them back to the pen and plopped them over the fence.

Her eyes were locked on her husband as he paused to catch his breath, his biceps curling as he ran his hands through his inky mop of hair, a curtain of it falling once more over his face as he bent and tightened the laces on one of his shoes, giving her an eyeful of just how firm and perfect his ass was in those particular shorts – if her husband wasn't made in the image of the gods, then she wasn't sure there ever was such a thing.

The straw she'd been sucking on finally let out a loud gurgle as she drained the last of her drink, her cheeks flushed as Killian turned around and shot her a look that said he knew exactly what she was thinking, and indeed, as she shifted on the lounger, she could feel her desire slick and wet between her legs – but there was still one chicken left to catch – Cinnamon, and her pirate wasn't one to give up before the job was done. She set the glass down on the patio, her fingers brushing against the firm coil of the hose they used for watering the garden, and as she watched Killian sprint across the yard after the last, stubborn bird, she got a perfectly wicked idea.

He'd made a few passes around the yard, Cinnamon dodging into the raspberries when he rooted her out of the garden, but no matter how quick he was, she was faster, her beady eyes never leaving him as she pranced through the grass like a tiny, cheeky dinosaur, always just out of arm's reach. It wasn't until he paused mid yard to catch his breath that Emma struck, the hose already primed and ready as she pulled the trigger and let a spray of cool water douse him, his muscles tensing as he jumped out of range and spluttered, wiping the rivulets of clear water from his eyes, his hair plastered to his head.

“Oh, you'll pay for that, Swan,” he promised, stepping forward with a dark intensity that had her scooting back on the lounge chair, her hands raised in front of her to ward off any tickling he was likely make her suffer.

“You looked so hot,” she begged, her voice rising an octave as he drew closer, droplets spraying from his hair as he shook his head and graced her with a sinful smirk, “hot and thirsty...I just thought – ”

She was about to scream, her body already on edge at the mere thought that he might tickle her, but then he stopped, both of their heads swiveling to the garden shed where they could here the clamor of something knocking and a plaintive bock that sounded for all the world like it was coming from the bottom of a well.

“Well, your punishment will just have to wait, love – that's too good an opportunity to pass up,” Killian grinning, walking swiftly to the shed where Emma could just see the fluffy bottom of Cinnamon framed by two flapping wings, her head stuck in the open neck of an old water can.

Triumphantly, Killian picked up both the bird and the can, soothing her with quiet sounds as he coaxed her free and dropped her back into the pen with her sisters, her soft orange feathers looking only a little worse for the wear as she rejoined the flock with a confused warble.

Emma's heart thumped in her chest as her husband finally turned his attention back to her, no more chickens to distract him, and advanced across the yard, the ripple of his muscles as he moved making her core clench and her nipples harden beneath her tank top – fuck if she didn't always want him, and pregnancy hadn't done anything but make that need more sharp, more constant.

“Killian,” she pleaded, licking her lips as he strode toward her, that same determination she'd seen earlier now focused entirely on her. “You could have gotten heat stroke. It's got to be ninety – ”

She yelped as his large hands gripped the bottom of the lounge chair and pulled it closer, its wheels grating against the patio as she held on, her bare foot running along the side of her leg in anticipation.

“You were quite right, love – I was getting quite thirsty.” Letting go of the chair, he kept his blue gaze locked on hers as his palms traced the firm lines of her calves, pressing deliciously into her muscles and sliding up towards her thighs as he leaned closer, “and now that you've sated that need, I can focus on more important matters.”

“Oh?” she breathed, every other part of her brain shutting down as her body screamed for him to touch her, to  take her right there on the lounge chair, “and what would that be?”

“Well, a bit of hard labor always makes a man hungry, Swan,” he growled, his hands swiveling to press against the inside of her knees, her legs falling open on the lounger as he filled the space between them, his fingers deftly pulling the adjustment on the side of the chair and carefully lowering the head rest so she was nearly flat, her view of him suddenly blocked by the roundness of their child – it was the only thing she missed, being able to see him so sinfully enjoying himself between her legs.

“And I intend to enjoy every last bite of my dessert,” he finished, his fingers making her jump as they brushed against her inner thigh, pushing the light fabric of her shorts and panties to the side as he exposed her. “I knew you'd already be sopping wet for me, love...”

Emma whimpered as she felt the welcome press of his stubbled cheek against her leg, his breath hot against her damp folds for only an instant before the sensation was washed away by his tongue lightly dragging through her arousal, her back arching as he curled the tip of it around her clit, just barely nudging beneath its hood to tease the sensitive nerves within.  

“Oh my god,” she hissed, her fingers wrapping tightly around the edges of the lounger as she pushed forward, desperate to have his mouth sealed over her, sucking and licking and making her feel as if she could shatter with one flick of his tongue – knowing she would. “Killian, please...”

“Now be a good girl,” he whispered, pulling back as she writhed closer. “I intend to savor this, just as you savored watching me chase those bothersome fowl around the yard.”

“You shouldn't have forgotten to lock the door,” Emma whined – why she was arguing, she wasn't sure, after all, it wasn't talking she wanted his mouth occupied with.

“Ah, but I didn't let the chickens out this morning,” he chided, licking a stripe along her leg before returning to her drenched folds, teasing along the edges of them as he drank down her essence. “I was dropping Henry off at work, if you recall.”

“Oh!” Emma gasped as his tongue slipped into her, stroking another wave of wetness from her walls as his lips massaged her flesh – oh, that was right, she remembered it now, letting them out, dropping the lid to the feed bin on her foot and forgetting to latch the gate. “Oh my god....fuck...Killian, please...”

She could feel his grin against her as he pushed her legs wider, the top of his head bumping against her belly as he moved up. The flat of his tongue licked straight through her wetness and encircled her clit, his lips pursing as he sucked on her small, swollen nub, his scruff razing her thighs and countering the overwhelming roll of pleasure that was spiraling between her legs.    

“So delicious, Emma,” he moaned between her sharp gasps, leaving her only a moment's relief before he returned to making her crumble around him, alternating between sucking and laving her clit, his fingers reaching between them to slide into her tight sheath, her walls grasping and pulling as soon as he entered, eager to be filled. “I could feast on you like this all day...”

Something between a cry and a scream fell from her lips as she clutched the lounger, the pleasure building in her core spiraling and writhing and threatening to pull her apart as his rough fingers stroked her swollen walls, his tongue darting down to swallow every drop of arousal that was slipping from her, his breath fast and needy against her hot flesh – and then with a rough press of his fingers and soft flicks of his tongue, she was falling, tumbling, breaking apart around his mouth as her orgasm rolled through her like a storm.

She eased her hips up without realizing what was happening, Killian's strong hands caressing her flesh at the same time he slipped her shorts from her body, leaving her half clothed in their backyard, her mind still spinning from his incredible mouth, the sounds of the outdoors and the cars in the distance only just filtering back to her.

“That was...”

“I know,” he smirked, tossing her shorts to patio as he hooked his fingers into his own and drew them down over the impressive length of his cock, its swollen thickness bobbing against his stomach with urgency, “and now that I've eaten, I think we can move onto taking care of my other needs.”

“Killian,” she rasped, her words muffled against the material of the lounger as he gently lifted and guided her, turning her still reeling body over so that her hips were raised in the air, her sopping folds open and framed by her pale thighs as her face rested against the cushion.

“Yes, love,” he hummed, drawing a groan from her as he ran his cock through her folds, coating it in her arousal before slapping it cheekily against her bottom. “Is there something you wanted to say, perhaps?”

“I left the...accidentally...” she mumbled, coherent thought fleeing her as she felt the thick press of the head of his cock against her pleading center, her folds parting around its velvet roundness as he slowly entered her.

“What was that, darling?” His hardness slid unhurriedly into her, his strong hands holding her achingly in place as she sought that burning fullness that came when he was in her completely, but her walls pulsed longingly around just the tip of him, anticipating when they would be stretched to their limit.

“Fuck...Killian, please, need you in me...all of you,” she begged, wriggling against his grip as he grunted and gave her a few shallow thrusts, the swollen head of his cock so close to that sensitive, ribbed place inside of her that would scream with pleasure as he rolled over it.

“Aye, I know what you need, Swan, but you won't get it just yet...” He pulled out slowly, his fingers grasping her full bottom and squeezing as he watched his cock slip from her, only the flushed, glistening edges of her folds still brushing against his sensitive flesh. “Not until you admit what you did.”

“I forgot,” she hissed in a rush of air, pushing hard against his grasp, his nails almost certainly leaving red marks in her pale skin as she struggled to slide herself back onto his hard length, needing it like she needed to breath. “I left the gate open for the chickens to get – get out...”

“There we are, Swan,” he crooned, his grip easing as he swatted her on the bottom and leaned forward, a keening whimper falling from her mouth as he lodged himself completely within her, her nails dragging across the cushion as she rolled her hips to adjust to his girth. “Now was that so hard?”

She would have laughed if she didn't think she would cry from how amazing it felt to have him buried inside of her, every inch of her core throbbing around him and begging to be stroked by his beautiful cock.

“Very hard,” she breathed, squeezing his member inside of her and reveling in the deep groan it pulled from his chest, a mischievous smile twisting her lips.  “Are you mad at me?”

“Never, Emma,” he whispered, his words ghosting along her back as he leaned over her and placed a reverent kiss to her shoulder, his hand trailing along her body until it came to rest against her swollen stomach, drawing small circles against her taut skin. “There's nothing I love more than indulging the beautiful...” He thrust roughly into her, her cry of pleasure lodging between his ribs like the most exquisite knife as he withdrew “...forgetful...”      Another drive of his hips buried him in her once more, her body trembling as her walls clung desperately to his cock “...mother of my child...”

A wavering cry hung between them as he sunk deeply into her again, stilling for only a moment before his hips snapped back and he set the punishing pace she was craving, greedy, desperate pleas falling from her lips as he pistoned into her, his skin burning with a heat that roared from deep in his gut to blaze along every inch of his body.

Emma clung to the lounger as Killian filled her over and over again, his member caressing the most intimate parts of her and pulling from her noises she'd only ever shared with him, her panting breaths lost amid the slap of their skin meeting, the back of her thighs stinging from the scrape of his hair as he pounded into her, whispering things into the air that had her core throbbing with sinful pride.

It didn't take them long, the hot sun beating down against them as he roared over her, her upper body limp and clutching the cushion beneath her as he finally came, the vicious pulsing of his cock sending her over that beautiful horizon once more, her tight sheath squeezing him as he washed her insides with his release, their bodies shivering and trembling together as those last waves licked their skin – electric and burning and perfectly right.

His cheek was rough and hot against her back as his cock finally softened and slipped from her, pulling a last whimper from her lips as her wet flesh was left cool and exposed, everything throbbing pleasantly. His fingers traced soothing lines along her legs and sides, a soft chuckle reverberating against her back.

“Something funny, pirate?” she murmured, her back starting to ache even though she felt too boneless to move.

“It just occurred to me that I may very well find the chickens loose more often after this...lovely afternoon interlude.”

“I make no promises,” she quipped.  

“I've have always said you've a little bit of pirate in you, Swan,” he rumbled, pinching her bottom before gently rolling her to lay sideways on the lounger, his arms pulling her close to his chest.

“Well, more than a little,” she reminded him, drawing his calloused palm over her stomach, their not-so-little pirate rolling happily against them both as they soaked in the warmth of another lazy afternoon. Everything was bathed in that burnt, hazy afterglow that comes with summer, nearly tempting them to fall asleep – at least until something moving across her field of vision had Emma's eyes springing open, her mouth opening in surprise.

“Is that...Killian, did you check that the latch was actually shut after you put the chickens back in?”

Her husband's stubble scraped her skin as he peeked over her shoulder and watched the slow march of fowl making their way around the edge of the garden, scratching and pecking and looking far more recuperated from their last encounter than he currently felt.

“Bloody hell...”  

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul​ @kmom0f4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert​ @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @tiganasummertree​ @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop 

[leafsbabe]

love you - Nolan Patrick and Travis Konecny

You were in the middle of setting up your sleeping bags when Nolan’s laugh made its way into your ear. While he prefered to keep up a stoic front for the media you’ve come to be spoiled by it in private during the last few months. Suddenly Travis’ laugh joined Nolan’s and you couldn’t help but smile more. Curious as to what made them laugh so hard you stuck your head out of the big tent you had brought along to look at your two boys. Nolan was sitting on his butt behind one of the logs surrounding the fireplace. He was curled up, laughing full force, his cheeks tinted a dark red and an expression full of joy.

Travis on the other hand was laying close to the water, his cargo shorts tangled around his legs and his face full off mud, laughing so hard tears left tracks through it. The entire scene was too funny for you to not join in on their laughter. Once the three of you calmed down they explained the situation to you. Nols wanted to start a fire for dinner whereas Teeks thought that going skinny dipping would be a great afternoon activity. Only he slipped still half clothed and fell face first into mud which caused Nolan to laugh so hard he fell over the log on the ground.

Since Travis had to take a dip to clean up anyway you decided that skinny dipping sounded like a nice thing to do, both to cool down from the summer heat and tease your boys a little. Without any hesitation you pulled your dress over your head, grinning to yourself when their looks automatically went to your nearly naked body.

“Last one in the water has to cook dinner tonight!” You laughed as you pulled your underwear down and took of into the lake.

Travis and Nolan where both yelling behind you but instead of listening to their bickering you simple dipped your head under water, drowning out the noise. When you ran out of breath you come up again, wet hair clinging to your body, seeing TK and Nolan watching you closely. Their eyes ran up and down your partially hidden figure.

it was Travis that broke the silence. “Nolan was last.” He said, eyes still fixated on where your breast breaching the surface.

“Okay so Nolan has to cook.” You smiled at them before splashing them directly in the face.

Of course they retaliated and before you knew it you had a full on water fight until two strong arms wrapped around your body and pulled you against a warm hard body. Grinning you spun around, planting a big fat smooch on whichever man had managed to grab you. From the kiss alone you immediately knew it was Nolan. One of his hands went up to your jaw, moving your chin up a bit so he could deepen the kiss while his other arm pulled you tighter against him. You got lost in the feeling of him and the way he slowly moved his thigh between your legs, giving you something to grind against.

A cold swall of watered covered you both, causing you to pull away in a shriek. TK stood a few feet away, a smug little smile on his face. “I thought Patty was supposed to go make dinner?”

Sighing Nolan pulled away from you but not before he gave you one last kiss. On his way out of the lake he splashed the grinning Travis, who only began to smile harder.

“I’m sorry baby,” he said, sliding into the spot Nolan had vacated, “I know he got you all hot and then had to leave but I’m here to help,” It was kind of a dick move but both of them were hot as fuck so you didn’t hold a grudge. You let TK pull you close and run his hands over your body. The lake water was cool enough to make your nipples harden on your chest and his gaze immediately drops to them again. Whereas Nolan kept his hands on your waist to help you grind against him Travis lets his roam free. Just a gentle touch all over before He touches your core. His finger feels wonderfully warm against your clit before they wander towards your fold and in your head you’re screaming ‘do it’ only for him to move on with nothing more than a teasing touch.

His hands wandered down your thighs before he grabbed your ass and lifting you up up high for you to wrap your legs around his waist. The water made it easier for TK to hold you up, one arm below your butt and the other one reaching up to run his fingers along the outline of your now exposed breast. More of your upper body was outside of the water now and the slight wind caused goosebumps to form across your skin. You knew exactly why he had lifted you up.

The TK’s mouth on your cheat was overwhelming. He didn’t play around, just sucked one of your nipples into his mouth and engulfed the hard nub with warmth. His tongue toyed with it for a moment before Nolan’s voice rang around the campsite. “Dinner’s ready.”

Travis playfully lightly bit down on your nipple making you squeal in surprise before he moved to put you back down. “Way to ruin the moment, Patso.”

“Don’t pout asshole, you did the same.” Came the reply.

The two of you left the water to join Nolan for dinner. Still feeling very much in the mood you didn’t bother to change back into the clothes you wore before, instead choosing to steal one of the guys hoodies in the tent and your sleep shorts. Wrapping your wet hair in a towel you walked back out to find TK already sitting next to Nolan on the fireplace logs so you decided to plop down on the other side of him.

“What’s for dinner?” You asked. While you all did the shopping for your camping trip together there were still several options and the smell gave nothing away except that it was grilled over the fire.

Nolan handed you a plate already filled up. “Those weird sausages from that store TK likes and veggies. I made you some separately tho since i know you don’t like them.”

Knowing Nolan remembered made you feel warm inside. It was the small things in life.

“Oh and i got that soda from that one store hipster store you like, it’s in the cooler but i can get it for you if you want to.” You knew exactly what store he meant but you also knew that it was across Philly and would have spent ages driving there just for your favorite soda. He would never admit to it out loud but you knew Patty was the biggest softie.

“Thank you Nolan,” You gave him a sweet soft kiss before leaning into his side, “You’re the best.”

On the other side of Nolan Travis stood up abruptly before walking to the cooler and coming back with your fancy hipster soda and two beers for himself and Nols. “See i can be sweet too. Nolan just got his dumb service kink or whatever.” He grumpily gave each of you your bottles.

“Oh Teeks,” you mumbled before pulling him to sit on your other side, essentially sandwiching yourself in between them. “You’re the best too, you don’t need to be jealous. Nolan just likes taking care of us and it’s very sweet of him to do so but that doesn’t make him a better part of this relationship than you and me, okay? We’re all equal.” Putting your plate down you pulled him into a hug once your lap was free again. He snuggled in for a moment before you felt Patty’s ong arms wrap around the two of you. He gave TK a giant smacking kiss on the head before mumbling “love you, asshole” to which Travis mumbled “love you too, bitch” back.

You finished dinner in peace. It was awesome and the seasoning and marinade on everything just pulled the entire meal together. You and TK quickly took care of the dishes since Nolan cooked for you earlier before you went and sat back down on the log and just watched the fire for a bit more. During the last few days you had talked a lot. Sharing childhood memories about going camping with friends or family. Telling each other of a close encounter with wildlife or bragging the size of fishes they had caught. It was sweet to just sit back and share stories and laugh together.

Before long you all decided to go to bed a bit earlier today. While you had stayed up late the days before and watched the stars in the sky, the hike you had undertaken earlier that day tired all three of you out so you made sure the fire would die down soon and then retreated back to your tent.

Your boys went all out when they had planned your trip and thankfully were able to borrow a giant tent from a teammate so all three of you fit in it comfortably. Instead of sleeping bags you just had a nice mat at the bottom and then the big summer blanket from your bed in Philly. Travis was already under it half asleep when you came back from brushing your teeth while Nolan still up putting his stuff back in the bags in the corner. Careful to not disturb Teeks you slid under the blanket and waited for Nolan to lie down as well. His large body laid down next to you and you immediately attached yourself to his side, turning so your back was to Travis. He used this opportunity to spoon up behind you, grinding his crotch against your ass just for good measure. With a sigh you rested your head on Nolan chest and closed your eyes, smiling softly when you felt TK reach over you to hold Patty’s hand while the three of you slept.

You woke to Travis very softly grinding something definitely not so soft against you. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes you waited for a moment before you heard his even breathing, confirming what you already thought. It wasn’t the first time TK grinded on you in his sleep and it would definitely not be the last. It was kinda cute that he couldn’t hold back from finding you so desirable, even in his sleep, but it woke the fire from yesterday in you again and now you wanted more.

Nolan was still asleep as well but he’d be easier to wake up. You trailed your hand over his chest, gently running your nails across his skin. When his breathing changed and you knew he was awake despite his still closed eyes your hand wandered down, gently touching him over his sweats. “Hmmmm, somebody’s in a good mood.” He mumbled, causing you to giggle quietly.

“I’m not the only one.” You whispered back, both meaning Travis who was still busy rutting against your butt and Nolan who was half hard under your hand.

He looked past you to Travis and what he was doing and instantly knew what your plan was. Nolan shimmied his sweats down under his butt to give you better access before bending down and taking your mouth in a soft and filthy kiss. You were still just petting at him, lightly teasing so the fun wouldn’t be over before Teeks could join. By turning more of your body and not just your attention to Nolan you were pushing your butt into Travis and his thrusts anyway so a bit of wiggling and pressing back surely wouldn’t hurt. You mind was racing, occupied by swallowing Nolan’s moans and continuing to tease him, and Travis who was so hot against your back, and the sheer amount of neediness you felt. It was almost like heaven when you felt Travis move behind you. You were so occupied by the situation that you had missed TK waking up until you felt his hand that had rested on the dip of your waist slide down into your sleep shorts and to your core. The feeling of his fingers touching your folds made you gasp, allerting Nols to the now awake Travis. His hand found it’s way to your jar, tilting your head just right so that he could kiss you again while TK’s skilled fingers carefully avoided your clit and instead began to explore your pussy. His hips stopped moving with intent and instead his focus was turned towards you.One of his fingers entered you and you couldn’t help but sigh against Nolan’s mouth. You had been craving the feeling of something inside you for hours so even one of his talented fingers made you feel slightly overwhelmed. You hand on Nolan’s dick stopped but he didn’t see to care, instead running his hands over your arms and body, under the hoodie you stole from them and to your breasts. As Travis gave you a second finger Nolan started playing with them. Pinching your nipples and grabbing your boobs in his big hands. The idea of the two of them just playing with you was one of your favorite fantasies but you needed more.

“Please.” You gasped out, desperate for anything they were willing to give you. Your eyes were closed in an attempt to hold yourself together but you knew that they were silently communicating above your head.

Nols moved your face a bit so you could look at him. “Do you want to suck me off while Teeks fucks you, love?” His tone was so gentle and sweet and you knew that even after everything if you didn’t say yes now they’d both immediately stop. But you needed it.

“Please.” You begged him, desperate for it.

It was quick work getting rid of your shorts and arranging your bodies. At first you whimpered when Travis removed his fingers but seconds later they were replaced by his dick and you couldn’t help but loudly moan. Finally.

It wasn’t the hard fucking you were expecting but rather both men decided to take their time. Travis trust into you languidly, trying to savour every moment and every moment not spent moaning Nolan was telling you how good your lips felt wrapped around his dick and gently petting your hair or playing with your breasts. They took their time playing with you.

“Baby,” Nolan began, causing you to glance up at him, “I’m about to come, okay? You do whatever you want, swallow or let me finish on you, or whatever you want. Fuck, you’re hot!” Feeling challenged you knew exactly what you wanted. You took him even deeper, desperate to make him finish and show him just how sweet and hot you could be for him. He moaned loudly and seconds later you could feel him pulsing on your tongue. You quickly swallowed everything before pulling off, pressing on last little kiss to his tip.

“I love you.” He breathlessly mumbled as he fell back, all his energy completely spent on you.

Behind you Travis took this as his sign that it was your turn now and gently helped you move over until your head was gently resting on Nols thighs while he doubled his efforts. His thrust gained power and he became fast and it was obvious he was chasing his own high but you knew he’d never allow himself to come first, always putting your pleasure before his. Fingers found your clit again and were seeing sparks.

When you came too again Nolan was wearing pants again but Travis was still holding himself above you. Sometimes after sex he liked to stay inside of you for a bit and just feel where you are connected. He was pressing small little kisses all over your shoulder.

“You okay?” Nolan asked from beside you, running his hands through your hair again. You smiled up at him before a yawn interrupted.

“Yeah, but now i’m tired again. What time’s it? Do we have to get up already?” TK grumbled against your skin again and and that moment you really wanted to go back to napping with him.

Nolan checked his phone real quick before turning his attention back on you. “It’s still early love. You can go back to sleep for a bit while i go make breakfast, okay?” His smile was soft and sleepy and once again you were overcome with nothing but sweet pure love for him.

“Okay. Love you.” You smiled before pursing your lips at him in an exaggerated way, silently asking for a kiss.

“Love you too.” Nolan bend down to press one against your mouth before getting up and leave the tent.”

Travis was still laying on top of you but you knew napping would be nicer in a different position.”Told you he has a service kink.” He grumbled as he shifted from you and back to your side.

You let out a little sigh when the movement caused him to slide out of you, already missing the feeling of his warmth stretching you out. “Come on,” You said, rolling to your side so you were spooned to his front like you were last night. “Can you put it in again?” Travis complied wordlessly, entering you again and pulling you closer with his arms around your waist.

You just took a second to enjoy the moment, one beautiful boy preparing coffee for you and another beautiful boy beside you in bed. You never truly understood what you did to deserve being loved by both of them but you wouldn’t change it for anything in this world. “I love you.” You whispered into the tent, behind you Travis was already snoring softly.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s Variety Show Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The call before this date is important in establishing the context! Please read it first: here

This post is dedicated to @kudoriee​, who is an adorable and pure-hearted soul with a lot of love to give 💕 Hope you’ll enjoy this!!

Kiss Dates Collection: Gavin // Lucien // Victor

Note: This date is mostly a bullet point summary because a lot of details were just fillers. The important scenes that you’re probably here for have been fully translated, no worries! 😂

The date begins with the film crew outside Kiro’s house, with the host staging the whole “surprise visit” thing we typically see in reality shows

They take a plane to the island where the show would be filmed

Once they reach the island, the show officially begins. Kiro isn't the only guest on the show, so they just introduce themselves and start doing tasks

The host asks Kiro who he most wants to visit the seaside with, but Kiro says that it’s a secret

At one point, the host suggests a volleyball game, and that the winner would get an award - a cold soft drink

Because the program team is extremely stingy with their budget, everyone perks up at the idea of getting something for free

Of course, Kiro groups with MC

Even though MC worries that she’d be a burden, Kiro sweetly says “As compared to winning or losing, being happy is most important!”

Her physical strength is no match for their opponents, but Kiro’s strategy enables them to win

The volleyball game takes up 1/3 of the date and there’s nothing worth mentioning...

...apart from this CG making Kiro look like an otter holding a sea urchin:

As the triumphant victors, they attain the coveted prize - the cold soft drink

MC blushes furiously after Kiro drinks directly from the bottle because sure, indirect kisses are so raunchy.

Afterwards, they have some alone time and walk along the beach while the sun sets:

MC: When the host asked who you most wanted to go to the seaside with, why didn’t you respond?

Kiro turns his head and looks at me with a surprised expression. Then, he laughs.

Kiro: You really don’t know the answer?

His shadow falls into my eyes, like a cloud blocking the sky behind it.

MC: I…

Kiro: I’ll bring you to a place first!

MC: Where-

Kiro pulls me into a run, towards the direction of the sunset, as though we’re chasing the vanishing light on the beach. Very soon, the big rocks on the shore enter my vision.

Kiro: Hurry and look, this is the place.

Kiro pulls me along as we walk closer, pointing at a shadowy area. There are two unremarkable, mutually independent rocks.

But the shadows they cast on the golden sand look like a couple snuggled up with each other.

This scene is fleeting. Very soon, the snuggling shadow disappears along with the final ray of light.

Before a sense of regret creeps in, Kiro suddenly leans in close. The colour of the dusk in his eyes grow dark.

I close my eyes without realizing it, and feel a soft and moist touch. It starts off tentative, then becomes demanding.

Our fingers are entwined tightly, heartbeats like loud cicadas, becoming even more urgent with every beat.

Only the waves retain their original rhythm, and continually wash onto the shore.

And then the scene abruptly cuts to MC being in the hotel alone

The program team suddenly sends her a message telling everyone to gather on the beach for an activity

On the beach, the host says they're going to play a game where everyone writes a challenging activity and put it into the box. If you pick it, you have to do what’s written on the piece of paper

Kiro goes first

Host: “Let me see – let one guest on the scene sit on your back and do twenty push-ups!”

Obviously he picks MC, and we get a description of Kiro’s back muscles:

With a palm on his back, I can feel his tense muscles through the thin material of his shirt, and the sweat that is slowly oozing out.

After that, it’s MC’s turn

She has to answer this question: “Who are you most willing to elope with?”

Kiro: I really want to know the answer to this question!

After some thought, MC responds.

MC: I’d pick my good partner, our host for this show.

Host: Are you sure you’d pick me?!

And then the lights suddenly go out (totally not Kiro’s fault). 

As everyone starts panicking, someone grabs her wrist.

Kiro: Let’s leave this place.

Before I have time to think, I’ve already been pulled away by Kiro in the middle of the chaos.  

We leave the sound of voices far behind us. At this moment, only starlight illuminates our path.

Shadows from the surrounding trees are cast on the surface of the water, and everything becomes quiet.

Just when we think we’re safe, a familiar profile, with a phone pressed to his ear, suddenly appears.

Savin: What happened? Why did the power suddenly go out?

Kiro: Oh no.

Seeing that Savin is about to bump into us, Kiro reacts quickly by pulling me into a pond shrouded by fallen branches.

Splashes of water can be heard, but they are quickly overshadowed by the sound of the faraway waves.

Kiro: Don’t move.

Kiro uses his hand to hold me in front of him, his eyes following Savin’s impending figure. This corner should be sufficiently covered by the surrounding plants.

I hold my breath nervously, and dare not move an inch. Kiro’s lips press against my ear, and he says in an incredibly soft and breathy voice.

Kiro: If we didn’t leave just now, would you have “eloped” with someone else?

In the middle of his phone call, Savin seems to sense that something is wrong, and he tosses a glance in our direction.

My body tenses up immediately, but Kiro continues waiting for my response, so I explain in a soft voice.

MC: That was just a game… the answer I gave was the safest one.

However, this answer doesn’t satisfy Kiro. He tightens his arms around me and holds me closer, creating ripples on the water surface.

Kiro: Even if it’s a game, you’re not allowed to do that.

There is a hidden danger in his soft voice. His half-lidded eyes contain an emotion which I’m unfamiliar with.

MC: Kiro?

My instincts make me feel like escaping, but lips dotted with water droplets are already trailing from my earlobe downwards. They stop at the side of my neck and suck gently.  

Seeming to have an intention to punish, he grips that small patch of skin between his teeth, rubbing it lightly then releasing it. He uses the tip of his tongue to lick the area soothingly.

MC: Mm…

I bite down on my lower lip hard to suppress the sound that’s about to rise from my throat. My arm holds onto the only support preventing me from slipping into the cold water. The beating of my heart is almost too much to bear.

Without realizing it, Savin has already left. All that remains are the moving shadows of trees on the water.

Kiro: Didn’t you want to know who I most wanted to go to the seaside with?

The voice in my ear is slightly breathless, but firm.

Kiro: It’s you. Whether it’s Summer or the beach, you are the only one who cannot be absent.

Kiro’s fingers lift the hair covering the side of my neck, his fingertip gently caressing the mark he has left behind.

Kiro: Now, this place has my marking.

His tone is accompanied by a low, satisfied laugh, and a possessive desire.

The fingers on my back follow the trail of water and snake downwards. Blazing heat follows his movements, gradual yet eager, as they flow over every inch of my skin.

His breath lays siege, filling every crevice in my body, wet and lingering.

Even so, Kiro is not yet satisfied. His arms hold me even tighter, and he uses his fingertips and lips to hold me prisoner in this secret corner, and I am unable to withdraw.

Kiro: Miss Chips, you belong to me. So, I won’t let you escape this time.

His searing breath takes over mine. I am unable to tell if it’s water droplets or sweat that slowly trickles down our tightly-pressed skin.

In our misty vision, dots of starlight pass through the trees, and are scattered across the surface of the water. Suppressed gasps diffuse near our ears, and are amplified by our senses.  

The water sways continuously like a tide, gently wrapping two hearts that are about to merge into one.

And the breaths of the sea breeze render the night even more blurry.

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 19

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Another chunky 4k chapter, and this is only the first half. It was so long and unruly, that I split it in two. (Which means a fast update!). I could have taken out the gratuitous smut and made it shorter, but... I felt like it needed it. So, that said: NSFW. 

Rowan knows he’s playing with fate every time he sneaks into Aelin’s room, but he can’t stop himself. With the end of summer barreling towards him, he needs to spend as much time with her as possible. The hours he’s at work without her are pretty much torture. So, in the last few days since Aelin has moved back into her room, he can’t help but spend every night sharing her bed; it’s their problem-free oasis. Despite everything else, sex is something they are incredibly good at.

Tonight, though, Rowan has to share Aelin, and he’s feeling pretty grumpy about it. That is, until he sees her emerge onto her back patio in the smallest bikini known to man – just a few scraps of black fabric held together with gold rings. It takes all his self-control to keep his hands by his sides. He clenches his hands in fists, reminding himself he can’t run his hands all over her curves. Not until later, at least.

“That bathing suit is indecent, Ace,” Elide says with a laugh, grabbing the chips and guac from Aelin’s hands.

“That’s the point, babe.” Aelin spins, revealing her mostly exposed backside, and Rowan chokes on his own sharp inhalation of air. When Aelin turns to him, her blue eyes are sparkling with mischief and Rowan has to force himself to look away, trying to cool down his warm face which is flushed with desire.

He finds Lorcan, eyes glued to the floor, his hand on his neck, uncomfortably avoiding eye contact with Aelin.

Aelin remains unfazed. She then stares Rowan down, eyes wide and innocent.

“Rowan, want to help me grab some wine from downstairs?”

Rowan doesn’t need to be asked twice. Aelin runs down the basement stairs, and Rowan bounds after her, skipping every other stair until they’re shutting themselves away in the wine cellar, just the two of them. His arms wrap around her bare waist as he pulls her into his chest, and he loves the way she melts into him. Her mouth is on his immediately, and he moans against her tongue.

“I missed you,” he mumbles against her lips, walking her further into the wine cellar.

“I missed you more.” She breathes heavily as she turns them around and backs Rowan into the small table and chairs in the middle of the cellar. Her eyes are wild as she pushes down on his shoulders, and Rowan sits in the chair, obeying the woman in front of him. Aelin’s hands run down his bare chest and down his thighs, and he groans loudly.

“Quiet,” she whispers, a devilish gleam in her eye. Rowan is constantly flustered by her, and now is no exception. He sputters out a slew of conflicted statements as Aelin sinks to her knees between his legs. He looks at the cellar’s stone floor and tugs on Aelin’s arm, trying to coax her back up. It’s not that he doesn’t want this. He absolutely does.

“Aelin, everyone is upstairs. We don’t have time to…”

“We’ll make it fast then,” she giggles.

She runs her hands up his legs, and she kisses his knee. That’s all it takes for his will to break. Fuck it. She can do whatever she wants with him.

“That won’t be a problem,” Rowan laughs, lifting his hips slightly to help her pull down his swim trunks.

His erection springs free, and her hands immediately wrap around the thick base. Rowan swears softly as she lightly kisses the tip. Her eyes burn with fire, silently assuring him that she’s exactly where she wants to be, as her mouth descends over him.

Rowan pants as Aelin teases him with her mouth, rubbing her lips and tongue up and down as her hand starts to slide slowly up and down his length.

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” Rowan repeats to himself, like a centering chant as Aelin increases her pressure, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucks harder. He was right. This is going to be over way too fast. He’s afraid to put his hands in her hair for fear of slamming her head down too far, so he reaches for any place he can touch instead – her hand, her arm, her shoulder, her cleavage. She hums happily around him, and Rowan nearly loses it again.

He runs his finger inside the edge of her bikini top, eager to feel her bare breasts in his hand, but he’s surprised when he finds a small foil wrapper instead.

Aelin’s mouth pops off of him when he pulls the condom from her suit and dangles it between them. Her hand continues to stroke him slowly as a grin spreads across her face, one eyebrow quirked at him.

“Someone planned ahead,” he says, strained. Her thumb rubs across the head of his erection, and he bites his lip to stop himself from crying out into the echoing cellar.

“I told you I missed you.”

The devil woman uses Rowan’s grasp to help her rip the package with one hand. She rolls the condom onto him, and Rowan is left absolutely no time to process what’s happening as Aelin moves her bottoms to the side and lowers herself onto him in one quick maneuver.

Fast is the name of this game, and Rowan can’t bring himself to care one bit. Aelin is a woman on a mission as she rides him at a brutal pace, taking him in over and over until she’s writhing over him. He can feel her tiring of her fast pace, but he knows she’s close, and he’s been close since she first kissed the tip of his erection.

He digs his hands into her sides and helps her find her rhythm again. She uses her arms to leverage herself, her sharp elbows digging into his shoulders painfully. But he could care less. He wants more of her, always. He can feel his heart pounding with exertion as he bucks his hips up into her, and he gets a thrill of satisfaction as she cries out loudly, unprepared.

“Shhh,” he chuckles through his heavy breathing.

“Fuck me again,” she moans, and Rowan loses it. He thrusts up, again and again, slamming her hips hard onto his lap. Her quiet whimpers rise in pitch as she squeezes her eyes shut and convulses on top of him. She swears over and over as Rowan chases her high. As he shatters, he bites into her shoulder to prevent from screaming himself.

They collapse into each other as they finish, and Rowan practically purrs as he feels Aelin’s fingers scratching his scalp softly. Neither of them make a motion to leave, just sitting and breathing and touching each other softly. Their soft touches turn into soft kisses, and as Rowan opens his eyes to look at Aelin, he’s shocked to see her already looking at him.

“What?” he asks, pulling back, but she shakes her head. “Tell me,” he whispers against her skin. He nips at her neck again, and she laughs, pushing him away.

“I just…” she begins, and Rowan runs his hands up and down her back, now damp with a sheen of sweat. Her soft eyes disappear as a wicked smile crosses her face. “I just really needed that,” she laughs. He’s almost positive that’s not what she was going to say, but he accepts it.

“Any time.”

He kisses her again, tangling his fingers in her hair. As their kiss deepens, he hears Dorian’s upset voice – “Oh, Gods. Why? No!” he whines, upset.

Aelin gasps and climbs off Rowan’s lap as they spot Dorian behind them, hand slapped over his eyes.

“Is Rowan still inside you?” he whisper-yells, his voice miserable, and Rowan can feel himself turning so red, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to look at Dorian again. He quickly pulls up his trunks and tosses the condom into the trash as Aelin fixes her bikini and pulls her hair up into a high ponytail.

“Not anymore,” she grumbles. Dorian groans again. “You’re good,” Aelin assures him, and Dorian peaks through a crack in his fingers and sighs.

“It was bad enough to hear it all those weeks ago, but to see it…” Dorian shudders, and so does Rowan. He hadn’t even thought… Oh gods, poor Dorian. “I’ll never be the same, Ace.”

Aelin frowns and grabs two bottles of wine and hands them to him. “That’s what you get for barging in.”

Dorian gapes as he snatches the wine from her. “You were barely gone for ten minutes, and I thought you could use an extra hand! How was I supposed to know that…” He pauses. “You know what? Never mind. This is on me. I should have assumed…” He mutters under his breath, “Horny monsters,” as he exits the cellar and trudges up the stairs.

Aelin grabs two more bottles and hands one to a still-blushing Rowan. She kisses his pink cheek lightly. “He’ll get over it.”

They follow Dorian up the stairs and back out to the pool, where Elide and Lorcan are already situated in the hot tub, both of them with their long dark hair up in matching top knots, Rowan notes much to his amusement. He watches jealously as Lorcan wraps his arm around Elide’s small shoulders. She looks up at him with a happy smile, proudly tucked beneath his large arm and rests her chin on his broad chest. Rowan would give anything to be able to touch Aelin so freely, so casually. But sadly, they’re at her house, and her parents could come outside at any moment. So, he’s resigned to sit next to her awkwardly, with his hands to himself.

Dorian uncorks the wine and pours some for everyone while Aelin and Rowan climb into the steaming water. Rowan sinks in and groans. The heat feels incredible against his recently active muscles. Dorian throws him a dirty glare, and Rowan begins to apologize for what he walked in on, but Dorian stops him.

“Let’s just forget it.” Rowan nods succinctly as Dorian pours him a too large glass of wine.

As he takes his first sip, Elide bursts out laughing. Her nose crinkles, and she buries her face into Lorcan’s shoulder, who seems surprised by the contact.

“What’s so funny?” Lorcan asks, poking at Elide’s arm.

“Aelin,” Elide drawls, staring at her friend with amusement. “You were gone for like fifteen minutes, max.” She pauses and touches her own neck, motioning for Aelin to do the same. “Really?”

Flustered, Aelin’s hand goes to the spot on her shoulder, mirroring Elide. Rowan realizes that is where he very recently sunk his teeth into her, and his blush returns in full force. He takes a large gulp of wine.

As Aelin moves her hand, Rowan sees the spot is already a dark red-purple ring, the fresh bruise blooming against her tanned skin. He hadn’t realized how hard he bit her.

Lorcan barks out a loud laugh as he sees it. His eyes flick to Rowan and then back to Aelin. And then back to Rowan.

“Huh.” Lorcan seems thoughtful as he assesses the situation between his coworker and his boss’s daughter. “Nice work,” Lorcan says, and Rowan can’t resist smirking.

Aelin’s blue eyes go wide with panic as she realizes what’s happened and shoves Rowan’s arm. “How bad is it?” she asks, and Lorcan replies for him.

“Pretty bad.”

“I hate you,” she seethes at Rowan, and Elide laughs again.

“Kinda looks like the opposite of that,” the tiny brunette cackles.

Aelin sticks out her tongue and takes a long sip of her wine.

Dorian grumbles as he finds a spot in the water between the two couples. “I hate being the fifth wheel. I should have invited a date tonight.”

Aelin pats his arm and smiles. “And who would that have been? Random bar girl? Random yacht girl? Or random beach girl?”

“I know their names!” Dorian insists. “One was Sorcha. One was Kaltain. And one was….” He pauses, thinking hard. “One was…”

“Exactly,” Aelin smirks.

Dorian pouts, but Rowan can tell he’s already forgiven Aelin for the awkwardness he walked in on earlier.

“Well,” Elide interrupts the best friends’ back and forth. “Now that your cat’s out of the bag, can you do me a huge favor?”

Aelin nods, coaxing her friend to continue.

“Since you’ll be at the staff overnight, I was wondering…” Lorcan coughs and hides most of his face behind his large hand as Elide continues, clearly preparing himself for embarrassment. Rowan is curious what favor Elide plans on asking if it already has Lorcan riled up. “Can we swap rooms so Lorcan and I can sleep together?”

Aelin gasps and draws her hand to her chest dramatically. “Elide?! My responsible park manager wants me to help her break the rules? You know boys and girls bunk separately!”

Elide splashes towards Aelin, who squeals. “Shut up and share the wealth. Some of us haven’t gotten laid yet this summer!”

Aelin gapes and looks between the pair of brunettes. “For real? You haven’t… yet? But it’s been like a month!”

“I know,” Elide deadpans, sliding her eyes to the man next to her, who despite being three times her size looks like he’s trying to shrink and hide behind her, sliding down into the water as far as possible.

Lorcan groans, hiding more of his face. “Ellie… they don’t need to know…”

“What?” Elide continues. Her lack of embarrassment reminds Rowan of Aelin’s brazen attitude. It’s no wonder the two girls are friends. They never mince their words. “My studio is so tiny, I only have a twin bed. And it’s not like I’m an acrobat, but have you seen him? He’s huge.” Aelin can’t help but snicker, and Rowan elbows her lightly in the ribs upon seeing Lorcan sink even further into the water, his face in flames. “And Lorcan has like two thousand roommates. Okay, it’s just three. But someone refuses to bed me with them around.”

Lorcan mutters quietly. “The walls are too thin…”

Aelin holds up her hands. “I would have insisted we swapped regardless.” She looks at Lorcan. “You think I’d let you two share a room? I know how irresistible this guy is,” she says, poking Rowan’s arm. “No way. I don’t trust Lorcan as far as I can throw him.”

Lorcan blushes furiously, and Rowan realizes for the first time that the manager he thought was quiet and grumpy has really just been incredibly shy this whole time.

“Nor should you.” Lorcan winks at Rowan through his blush, and Rowan insists that everyone needs more wine if they’re all going to start flirting with each other.  

“MAEVE!” Dorian screeches out of nowhere, and the group all turns to him with confused looks on their faces. He points to Aelin. “That was the name of random beach girl. Maeve.” He looks so proud of himself, his chest puffed out and his blue eyes wide with vindication, and the hot tub devolves into laughter.

The five of them lounge and drink and banter until their fingers start to become pruney.

Amidst their laughter, the back door slides open and Rhoe and Evalin come out to say goodnight to everyone. Aelin turns and places her hand on her shoulder, expertly covering her bruise and smiles innocently.

“We’ll wrap up soon,” Aelin says to her dad.

“Not necessary,” Rhoe says, waving her off. “Stay as late as you want. We’re more than happy to have your friends here.”

Rowan notices that Evalin doesn’t say a word. In fact, since Aelin’s returned to her house, he’s not even sure she’s spoken with her mom at all. He’s been too nervous to ask about the fight and subsequent makeup, and Aelin hasn’t offered him any information. He doesn’t want to press.

Lorcan looks at the time and says they should probably get going anyway. Work waits for no man. Or woman, he adds, looking adoringly at Elide. Elide scrunches her nose and kisses his cheek, and Aelin snorts into her wine. But the open affection shared between the pair once again makes Rowan burn with envy. He longs to even put his arm around Aelin’s shoulders, but instead, he sits stiffly beside her, cautiously keeping his free arm attached to his side.

As Aelin’s parents head into the house, Aelin leans over and whispers into Rowan’s ear. “You’re staying, right?”

Rowan nods and startles slightly as Aelin slides her hand over his thigh.

“Again?” Dorian complains. “At least wait until we’re gone…”

Dorian’s words spur Aelin to get everyone out of the house as quickly as possible. As soon as everyone hoses off in the outdoor shower and changes back into their clothes, Aelin is slamming the door and saying goodnight to everyone loudly.

She and Rowan head upstairs quietly and shut the door behind them, immediately falling onto her bed, limbs wrapped around each other.

“Did I mention I missed you today?” Aelin breathes against his mouth, and Rowan chuckles.

“A few times, yeah.” He smiles against her lips, happy to have her all to himself again, when there’s a loud knock on the door.

“Aelin?” Evalin’s voice calls through the door. “Can I come in?”

Rowan’s never seen Aelin’s eyes widen so much, it would nearly be comical if his heart weren’t pounding out of his chest. They freeze immediately, before scrambling into action.

“One second!” she squeaks out as Rowan jumps off the bed, wondering where the hell he’s supposed to go. Under the bed is far too conspicuous, and Aelin always leaves her bathroom door open.

“Closet!” she mouths as she fixes her clothes.

Rowan rushes to the walk in closet and shuts himself inside as fast as he can. As he takes his spot on the floor, under Aelin’s hanging garments, he hears Aelin call for her mother to enter.

Rowan can’t see anything, but he can hear everything all too well. He feels somewhat guilty for listening in on what is sure to be a private conversation, but it’s not like he can go anywhere else. And Aelin does know he’s here.

“What’s up?” Aelin asks, and there’s a long silence as Evalin thinks of her reply.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Evalin says quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“Good.”

More silence.

“Is that all?”

Rowan hears a long sigh, and he’s not sure who it comes from. It could be either woman, to be honest.

“No. I…” Evalin starts again. “I know you’ve been avoiding me since you came back to the house, and that’s fine. But I wanted to apologize anyway.” She clears her throat. “You know I didn’t mean what I said.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Aelin says, her voice as icy as Rowan’s ever heard it.

“Aelin,” her mom pleads. “Of course I didn’t mean it. I was just confused. And you know canceling on a date is incredibly rude, and it reflects back on this family. I had to apologize to The Cortlands, who were also very confused. We just thought you two were such a good match.”

“Mom,” Aelin breathes, exasperated. “Sam and I weren’t a good match. He was constantly disrespecting my personal boundaries. I didn’t want to go out with him, but he asked me out in front of you so I’d have to say yes. He’s manipulative and shitty, and I don’t want to be with anyone like him. Sorry you had to quit picking out our china.” She pauses and then continues again. “But I don’t need your help getting a date.”

“I’m sorry,” Evalin says finally, quietly. “I didn’t see any of that.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have, would you?” Aelin laughs humorlessly. “I don’t want to talk about Sam anymore. He’s not even important.”

Another long silence.

“We just want you to be happy.”

“Dad tell you to say that?”

Rowan wishes he could see what’s going on as another silence fills the room.

“You’re very good at putting on a smile, Fireheart,” Evalin finally says. “We just want you to mean it.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t taught me that appearances mean everything I would fake it less,” Aelin snips.

Rowan’s heart hurts as he hears Aelin’s defense. He knows it’s true. In the weeks she spent with him, she only broke down that first night. The rest of the time, she plastered a smile across her face. It was as if she thought if she put that smile there long enough, she’d finally forget she was sad. Though he supposes he can’t fault her for that. He’s been known to do the exact same thing. He’s like a wounded animal, hiding its injuries from his owner, so as not to worry them.

“Aelin,” her mom sighs, but Aelin shuts it down, apparently finished with the conversation.

“I’m tired. Thank you for your apology. I’ll see you in the morning.” She dismisses her effectively, and Evalin wishes her a goodnight softly.

The door closes again, but Rowan is afraid to move, as if Evalin will come back in at any second. The closet door wrenches open, and Rowan is momentarily blinded by the bright lights of Aelin’s room. He squints and sees Aelin, standing in front of him, with a worried frown on her face.

He stands quickly and wraps his arms around her. “You okay?” he asks, and she nods silently, but he knows she’s anything but.

Aelin undresses methodically and gets ready for bed, and Rowan stands, unsure of what to do. She definitely doesn’t seem to be in the mood for any amorous activities anymore, and Rowan hasn’t ever been in her room for anything else.

“We don’t have to, uh…” Rowan stumbles his words, like usual. “I mean, I can go home.”

“No,” Aelin says quietly and looks up at him with those entrancing blue-gold eyes. She clutches onto the hem of his shirt with her fists, keeping him close. She looks nervous as she fiddles with the fabric between her fingers. “Would you still stay, even if all we do is sleep?”

“Of course,” he answers, and Aelin smiles softly. He has no idea why she was so nervous to ask him. He’d do anything she asked of him.

Rowan strips down to his boxer briefs as Aelin throws on a t-shirt that he recognizes as his. “Hey, I was wondering where that went…”

Aelin tugs at it. “You told me it shrunk in the dryer and is too short for you now.”

Rowan smiles as Aelin climbs under the covers with him. “I did say that.”

She flicks the lights off and rolls back to face him. “It’s so soft.” She pauses. “I’m keeping it.” He scoots closer to her and rests his hand on her thigh. “I’m still mad at you,” she says, and Rowan rears his head back, wondering what the hell he could have possibly done wrong. She laughs.

“I can’t believe you bruised my neck, you heathen.” She shoves at his chest, and it rumbles softly with his own laughter. “I’m going to have to curl my hair tomorrow, just so when I tell everyone it’s a curling iron burn they have to believe me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says through his chuckling. He kisses the tip of her nose, and he feels it scrunch beneath his lips.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, referring to her conversation with her mom, and Aelin shakes her head.

“I want to hear about your mom,” she whispers.

“What about her?”

“Everything,” she says, and so Rowan does. He tells her about Sunday baking days and learning her favorite recipes. He tells her about how she sewed every single one of his Halloween costumes. How she never missed a cross country race. He tells her about how he had no choice but to leave the Army when she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. And that he was happy to help her through her extensive rehab, because he’d do anything for the woman who raised him single-handedly.

“I love her,” Aelin murmurs, half asleep.

Rowan brushes her hair out of her face as she succumbs to sleep. “She’d love you,” he whispers, sadness suddenly weighing heavily on his chest. Aelin hums lightly in reply.

I love you.

He hears it so loudly in his own head, he almost startles himself awake. He knows he can’t say anything. But for a selfish second, he lets himself feel it.

The soft glow of the moon highlights the tip of Aelin’s nose as it filters through her windows, and her eyelashes flutter against the tops of her cheeks as she starts to dream. She breathes slowly, her lips slightly parted, and Rowan hasn’t seen her look so completely at ease as long as he’s known her. He wishes he had his camera. He’d like to capture this moment forever. Instead, he stares at her, etching every last detail of the image into his brain, until he finally gives into exhaustion and falls asleep, too.

~*~*~*~

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters – ask me HERE

tag list:

@thewayshedreamed​

@b00kworm​

@alifletcher2012​

@aknymph​

@the-third-me​

@mymultiversee​

@superspiritfestival​

@empress-ofbloodshed​

@http-itsrebecca​

@queen-of-glass​

@but-she-was-aelin-galathynius​

@westofmoon​

@rowaelinforeverworld​

@iliketoasterstrudels​

@bamchickawowow​

@hizqueen4life​

@faerie-queen-fireheart​

@giorgia-the-trashpanda​

@acourtofmoonlight​

@m-like-magic

@rolltide7​

@wordsafterhours​

@amren-courtofdreams​

@alserath​

@tswaney17​

@jesstargaryenqueen​

@joyceortiz13​

@itsme-malin​

@aesthetics-11​

@keshavomit​

@yingyingbearbear

@alxanxah​

@but-she-was-aelin-galathynius​

@minaidss​

@meowsekai​

@deepdarktrashhole​

@samotita​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@ehazzard7​

@cursebreaker29​

@flourishandblottsx​

@maastrash​

@nishlicious-01

@sailorsassley​

@aelin-queen-of-terrasen​

@pine-and-snow

@anunforseeablereader​

@galyxsy​

@greatwombatblaze​

@queenofbumblebees​

@kaitlynn1216​

@januarystears​

@officialasianbitch​

@jewel334​

@justgiu12​

@df3ndyr

@l0sts0uls1128​

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

@annejulianneh111

@readstudyhike

@strangeenemy​

@studyliketate​

@iammissstark​

[hallowed-be-thy-username]

For @nietopesh 💖💕💜 Thank you so much for your request, dear!! I focused mostly on the back story and progression of the relationship with a little fluff thrown in there. I hope its what you were looking for, let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to add or change!!

Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, romantic relationship

Word count: 1,688 (sooo, um, it got a little long 😂)

Warnings: a little angst, a bit of gore, reflections on a darker past, mentions of murder, enabling criminal activity

Jack

His name is Jack. No one else knows that but you.

Twelve years ago you met him at the bookstore where you worked during the summer before your senior year of high school. He used to watch you from the non-fiction section, his eyes shifting away when yours would wander in his direction. This went on for a couple of weeks. You even started stealing your own glances his way. His head of dark blonde hair always hung in his face, obscuring your view of his features but his eyes drew you in. He never spoke to anyone, keeping to himself at the table in the corner where he sat every afternoon. One night after he left, you saw that he’d been carving notches in the wood on the table’s edge. What the little tick marks meant, you could only guess.

You weren’t sure if he knew that you saw him until one day, you were stocking shelves and turned around to come nearly nose to nose with him. He asked you if you wanted go for a walk in the park nearby. His eyes were even more hypnotic up close. His deep brown irises held you in place, staring into them with your breath washing over his face. His face. He had high cheek bones and a sharp jawline, his prominent brow framing all of it perfectly. You squeaked out an answer. Yes, you’d love to.

Jack never smiled much. It took a long time for him to let you in but you learned about him in bits and pieces. He didn’t have much. No family, no friends, barely a home to live in, Gotham native from The Narrows. He fended for himself, no desire to do or be anything that anyone expected of him. But now he had you. He cared to know more about you than for you to know about him. He often confused you with his questions. Jack is smart.

Your relationship grew more intimate as time went on. He touched you, he let you touch him. He wasn’t used to that sort of contact. But with you, he loved it. His hands memorized your every curve, his fingers idly tracing the shape of you when you laid together on warm summer nights. You swallowed each other up, lost in one another’s skin beneath the stars.

Summer turned to fall and fall into winter, the heat between you to keep you warm. As spring and the promise of graduation approached, Jack started to become distant. You’d encouraged him to go back to school. He stopped going when he was left out on his own at the age of sixteen. Jack didn’t like school. He found it to be boring, he was better at teaching himself everything he needed to know. The prospect of college was on the horizon, the world open to you, and it seemed to eat away at him. Something was dragging him down to some impossible depth where you could barely see him. Those summer nights were too good to last. You were too good to last.

Then he disappeared. With no way of contacting him, you didn’t know what to do. You tried to find him but found only shadows. You willed yourself to forget about him, but you couldn’t. You wanted to be angry with him, but you couldn’t. There was something about Jack Napier that you couldn’t let go of. Ten years went by with you watching and waiting, hoping that he’d come back. You moved on with your life, got your degree from Gotham University, got the job you were hoping for, but that empty space was always there. Until one night when your life took a sharp turn.

You turned the keys in the lock on your apartment door, water dripping from your coat from the rain poring over the city. When you turned on the lights your heart nearly stopped at the sight of a blonde head of hair hanging low on a figure slumped against the kitchen counter. Your bag dropped to the floor and the blonde head rolled to the side to reveal a trail of bright red down the front of their shirt. Your instincts kicked in and you slammed the door shut to drop to your knees in front of them, calling out “are you alright?” and “how did you get here?”. You stopped when a pair of deep brown eyes opened and gazed back at you.

“Jack??”

His face. A freshly healed, jagged scar stretched from the corner of his mouth and into the soft flesh of his left cheek. The right was torn open, the flesh split into a smooth curve up toward his ear. It steadily dripped, clotted blood hanging from it’s edges as he clung to consciousness. Your thoughts ceased and everything was a blur after you helped him up, his arm over your shoulders, to rush him outside where you flagged down a taxi. You talked to him, carefully brushing his hair from of his forehead wet with cold sweat on the way to the hospital where he was taken away on a gurney.

Those were the longest few hours of your life. Spent pacing the waiting room at Gotham General, mind racing with thoughts of where he’d been, what had happened to him, how and why he found you. The blood loss was significant. Transfusion brought the color back to his skin, but the scars may as well have been etched in stone. Now he had two, tugging at the corners of his mouth to form a permanent smile.

You never talked about where they came from or who made them. He had no interest in telling you and you didn’t want to push him. His inside was changing with his outside, his smile wasn’t real and neither was what he showed people. He lied, he manipulated, he tricked. But things were different with you. With you he was eighteen again, stroking your thumb with his own while you held hands and watched the night sky. He was still Jack.

The scars were a part of him now and you made sure that he knew you loved him for him, scars and all. Your relationship took time to grow again but it did. You remember the first time he kissed you with his new face. It brought something out of you that you didn’t know existed, a desire to become a part of the darkness that surrounded him, to hold a special place in the heart of the man with the scars. With his new face came a new name. The Joker.

The wild card. Extremely beneficial or extremely harmful. The persona completed him. He was happier. It gave him something, an added charisma, an invincibility. A coating of ghostly white paint with hollow black rimmed eyes and blood red to highlight his scars ensured no one forgot his face. He used his mind, his intellect, to show them all what he was capable of. He was relentless, garnering a reputation that grew with the body count he left behind over the past year. It didn’t take long for the Gotham underground to know his name and you were with him through it all. His hands had become stained with blood, blood of anyone that stood in his way. But your blood, he’d never spill.

You were his constant, the secret anchor that kept him grounded, the only soul alive that he could come home to. You even had the suit made for him. He’d melded mind and body with his new name and you couldn’t help but adore him for it. Had you enabled him throughout it all? Yes. Did he pull you down into the darkness with him? He did. But you wanted him to. You’d seen the unstoppable force he was to become from the beginning but found yourself wanting nothing more than for your Jack to show the world it’s own ugly reflection.

“D’you remember that day, doll? At the bookstore down on 12th?”

J stayed with you most of the time. You chose a cozy little apartment in the back of the building by the fire escape for a good reason. The Joker couldn’t exactly sign the lease. You kept up your life and your job outside of his criminal dealings but in your time alone together, nothing else mattered. He was yours and you were his.

You looked up from the needle and thread you were using to sew a button back on his coat and answered, “The first time you talked to me? Of course I do.”

“How’s a-bout we take a, uh, little trip down memory lane?” he asked.

Your cheeks stretched into a smile to match his.

The moon was full and high in the sky that night, the bright white light casing soft shadows onto the pavement. You walked with J down the quiet street toward the boarded up bookstore, long since out of business. He lifted you by your waist to grip the ladder on the side of the building and followed you up to the roof, not without a cheeky comment about how nice the view of your ass was while you rolled your eyes, of course.

When you reached the top, you saw a plush pile of blankets laid out in the center of the rooftop with a bottle of wine and two glasses waiting for you. You turned to J with a look of surprise on your face and a deep chuckle came from his chest.

“Didn’t think I’d forget our anniversary, did ya?”

Before you could answer he picked you up to toss you onto his shoulder to carry you to the blankets where he flopped down with you. The sounds of your giggles drowned out his sarcastic questions of “what’s so funny, hm?” and “why are you laughing?” while tickled your sides until you could barely get air in.

You stayed on that rooftop together all night, gazing at the stars just like you used to. To everyone else, he’s the Joker but to you, he’s also Jack.

[rosesloveletters]

Halcyon.

Thank you @heavymetalnarwhal​ so so much for requesting! Unfortunately, my free time for writing is limited, so I am going to do head canons for this, as well as the rest of my requests, if thats alright *sweats*. I will still write enough detail for this hc set to be lengthy enough to be considered a small fic. Enjoy!

wc: 1,042

Autumn had always been the kind of season that perpetuated your desire to stay close to the ones you love. You loved the grey clouds, the smell of rain that hung in the air, the way fallen leaves crunched beneath your feet wherever you walked and the crisp air that always made you shiver and clutch your jacket tight around yourself to block out the wind. Most had come to prefer summer and the warm and forgiving temperatures, non-stop beach partying and skimpy outfits, but not you. Autumn was a time for self-reflection, gentleness and love. And you only wanted to spend it with one other person.

J was not as dazzled by the seasons’ change as you were. The Earth did the same thing every year; why would he care about something that happened without cause? People make a fuss about every little change. All J noticed was it was beginning to get cold and it was time for him to dig his royal purple trench coat out of the depths of your shared closet. You’d let him keep it there during the warm months when he was unable to wear it. The heavy coat trapped in heat and in July, J found he could not wear it due to the extreme temperatures, much to his dismay. The extraction of his coat from the closet lit up his world, so to speak, and he was happier than ever to feel like a piece of himself had returned.

This put J in a good mood. Where he would’ve been unwilling and surprisingly vocal about his disdain for any fall activities, you found him to be somewhat compliant.

You both had grown close over the passing months and you now found it easier to ask him for what you wanted. As much as you knew J liked going out and finding new and dangerous things to get involved with, you asked him to stay home with you the first cold and rainy night of autumn.

You had expected him to vehemently deny you; he took great pleasure in telling you no while he went about his business. He loved the way your nose would crinkle and you would get a look in your eye that almost rivaled his murderous one any time he said no to you. It amused him how dead-set you were to spend time with someone like him; it was a bad joke. He almost didn’t believe you at first. He liked saying ‘no’ because he knew how it irked you.

The only reason he hadn’t been so quick to respond the negative tonight was because it had begun to rain. It wasn’t his favorite type of rain either, no, it was the kind that made your skin crawl. J liked a downpour. If it was going to rain, he wanted to be drenched. But the water that rained down from the heavens was not a downpour. It would've taken hours for his clothes to become saturated and the tiny water droplets seeped into his bare skin and made him feel as though he’d just woken in a cold sweat. He hated that feeling. He couldn’t work properly when his mind was preoccupied in such a way, and so he stayed.

You liked to watch the heavy clouds move across the sky, pulling the rain in to stay. You would look out your bedroom window and watch as little speckles slowly fill up the glass. You could sense J moved around behind you, seemingly restless from his unexpected night in.

The one way you knew you could relax J was if you could somehow occupy his mind with a different desire or task, and thus autumn movie nights were born.

You learned, for painful, painful experience, not to under any circumstances let him pick. J’s choices tended to be a bit more...graphic for your tastes, or perhaps, if you did enjoy the movies of his choosing, it was his inability to know when the moment had passed that got under your skin. J enjoyed the fullest extent of movies and would eagerly watch intense movies for days on end if you let him. He monopolizes your television quite frequently when you’re out.

You have your own cinematic masterpieces (as he so sardonically put it) that you enjoy and make him watch, which he does, though do not expect him to keep his mouth shut. You angrily remind him that you don't talk during his movies, so he should be more respectful; this only results in cackling.

The best part about rainy and cold movie nights with J is the comfort. Fuzzy socks, soft blankets, a warm drink (tea, coffee, cocoa - whichever you prefer), sometimes cookies or other sweet treats (J has a sweet tooth, but nothing compares to his unhealthy obsession with holiday popcorn.) J eases into the season comfortably and soon he’s enjoying his down time as much as you are.

Having a friend to relax with is not the sort of luxury J has ever had access to. His line of work has no room for friends and neither had his life, up till this point. Sure, it was a lonely existence at times, but J didn’t get lonely. The only thing he ever noticed was that whenever something particularly good happened (ex: he got a new knife, swindled the mob out of their hard earned cash, got away with murder, etc.) he had no one to share it with or tell about it to. His escapades were great fun to him, but J could have a big ego from time to time and your encouragement of the person he was made him see the value in what he was doing; you didn’t want to change him. He also found great amusement and humor in how much time you wanted to spend with him. He found it funny how messed up anyone would have to be to request his time and that was the kind of person he wanted to be around.

So the nights he spent with you, cuddled up on the couch watching movies while the cold air settled in around you, were something he would never admit to looking forward to, but still...he did.

[sinsbymanka]

One more for @pookydraws! This is actually a gift from @tessa1972 who donated to RAINN and then donated the commission to Pooky! I love you both and thank you for being so supportive of each other and all of us! This smutty drabble features Pooky’s Sarita Amell and King Alistair Theirin! 

Do you want your own fluffy and/or smutty drabble? I’m still accepting donations through Ko-fi for RAINN! I met my goal BUT you can still donate there and hit me up anywhere to let me know what you’d like! You can also donate and receive your drabble anonymously. I will not post your name or tag you in the post.

Title: The King’s Reward Pairing: Female Warden/Alistair Theirin, Female Amell/Alistair Theirin Rating: E Content Warnings: Post Dragon Age Origins, Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex Read on AO3

Alistair knew there were less pleasant places that Denerim in the summer. Abandoned crypts. Swamps. The Korcari Wilds. Anywhere that served Orlesian cuisine exclusively. Orlais in general.

Yes. There were certainly worse places to be than the sweltering heat of Ferelden’s capital city. But it was certainly hard to remember that when he’d taken off everything except his own skin and still felt like he’d stepped into mage fire.

He reclined on the chaise, rubbing the back of his palm across his nose, and frowned down at the near illegible tiny print blurring before his eyes. Andraste, he’d been at it for hours. He had to be nearly done.

Alistair cast a despairing glance at the stack of papers on the floor, the rest of his newest Antivan trade treaty. Then he pinched his nose, hard, and sunk further into the plush material.

It was Sarita’s favorite chair. He’d hoped sitting on it would help him channel some of her focus, but so far he’d been disappointed. He just… wasn’t as good as the minutiae as she was. Frankly, the fact Ferelden didn’t fall into chaos as soon as she rode out of the capital city was a miracle sent from the Maker himself.

But she had a duty. They both did. She fought the blight, for both of them, because he’d had to forsake his oaths for a crown. His sword languished in a training yard, his crown fit ill upon his head, and Sarita…

Sarita was his mistress instead of a queen like she should have been.

It had been the right thing for Ferelden. The only thing to do, really. That didn’t mean it didn’t sting. Though things were changing. The situation in Kirkwall was becoming tenuous, proving the Circles didn’t work. Once that keg exploded, and it was about due to at any moment, it would be a matter of time until the established systems fell down around his ears.

He’d be ready. They’d defeated the blight, after all, and once the old rules were gone…

Well. It was a pleasant daydream. Much more pleasant than Antivan trade treaties, in fact. He tossed the paper to the side and laid his head back, luxuriating in the faint breeze that stirred the curtains. He closed his eyes and conjured Sarita’s azure eyes, the blonde hair tucked behind the curve of her ear.

She’d be back soon. He couldn’t wait.

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

Alistair didn’t know how long he slept, but the soft sound of movement drew him from heavy, blissfully dreamless, sleep. Even after years, his gut reaction was to freeze and hone in on the small noises, searching for danger while keeping his eyes closed. He heard the rustle of silk. The splash of water.

Then he felt thin, staff calloused fingers tracing over the hard planes of his muscles.

“Sleeping on the job, your highness?”

He chuckled, stretching his arms above his head before opening his eyes. Above him, Sarita returned his crooked grin with one of her own, walking her elegant fingers down his chest.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He rumbled.

“Not as much as you were.” Sarita’s expression shifted into a wicked smirk, searing hot gaze dropping down his body.

That was the moment Alistair remembered he was snoozing away in all his Maker-given glory.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t a servant.” Sarita added, eyes twinkling.

“Maker’s breath. I’m lucky you weren’t Oghren.”

“Oh, he was with me. I’d say you struck him blind, but I’m not sure he noticed.”

Alistair laughed. “Sounds like Oghren.”

Sarita hummed a muted agreement, her eyes trailing down his revealed skin. Cheekily, Alistair snatched her fingers from his chest and brought them to his lips, kissing the tips while he held her gaze.

“And have I struck you blind like the Revered Mother always said would happen?”

“Not yet.” Sarita purred, leaning over him on the chaise. “Have you missed me?”

“Endlessly.”

Joy sparked to life in her eyes. She brought her lips closer to his, leaning in to whisper against them. “And is this our treaty with Antiva?”

“It is.” He replied, pious as possible. It was made difficult because his sleep addled mind had finally caught up to look beyond Sarita’s stunning eyes and the golden fall of her hair.

His lover wore a simple silk robe, the pale material almost sheer in the late afternoon sunlight. She smelled of lavender, clearly already washed up after her arrival. The loose tie of the robe let it fall just right so Alistair could trace the swell of her breasts.

“It’s all done?”

“Just needs a final stamp. Got to read through it and make sure they didn’t put me dancing naked in the town square as one of their…”

Alistair lost his train of thought watching Sarita capture her plump lip between her teeth, peering at him through her long lashes. His breath caught in his chest as her finger drifted lower, scratching at his abdomen with blunt nails. His cock twitched with interest, beginning to swell between his thighs.

“Maker’s breath. You’re beautiful. I’m still a lucky man.”

“Working hard and compliments?” Sarita questioned. “It sounds like someone has earned a reward.”

“I have behaved myself. Ask anyone- oh Maker.”

Sarita’s quick fingers pulled the knot in her robe and it fell from her shoulders like Andraste herself was unveiling her most glorious masterpiece to the world. Alistair pushed himself up, eager eyes darting over her exposed flesh. The curve of her waist, the fullness of her hips, and those breasts.

Andraste herself didn’t have a nicer pair of breasts. Alistair knew. He’d been shoved in front of many statues of the blighted woman.

...not that he’d been looking at Andraste’s breasts.

Before he could fall further down that train of thought, Sarita settled herself on the opposite end of the chaise. One firm, strong hand pushed him back into a reclining position, her smile absolutely wicked. The kind of smile that always heralded the best activities.

“I know just the thing to show my appreciation.” Sarita purred, running her hand back down his body. His cock, fully erect, bobbed as she trailed her teasing touch up over his stiff length. He watched her smile grow predatory.

“Just enjoy, love. Allow me.” She whispered.

Truly the only thing he could think to say was a prayer of gratitude for the lovely creature in front of him. Sarita stole the words out of his mouth by dropping her pink lips to the tip of his manhood, pressing a perfectly filthy kiss to the tip.

Alistair swallowed, hard, and brought his hand up to cup the soft skin of her cheek. She leaned into his palm while her quick tongue darted past those tempting lips to lick a stripe down his length.

Alistair grit his teeth together, blowing his breath through his nose. It’d been too long, she’d been gone too long, and he wasn’t going to last. “Sarita…”

“I know.” Her own voice was husky with desire, blue eyes molten with it. “Thank Andraste for Warden stamina, right?”

“It’s a perk.” Alistair breathed. One of the few, but he’d take it. And her. He was certainly going to take her thoroughly before the evening was over.

She smirked, wrapping her long fingers around the base of his cock and opening her mouth.

Warm. Wet. One of Alistair’s hands threaded gently through Sarita’s hair, the other roughly grabbed onto the delicate upholstery of her chaise. His back arched, although force of will kept his hips steady while Sarita swallowed his length in her hot, willing mouth. Years of habit meant she took him easily almost to the hilt, the hand wrapped around his base stroking what she couldn’t take comfortably.

Those sharp eyes looked up at him again and Sarita squirmed between his legs. He could smell her own desire, heady in the air, as she bobbed back up his length. His cock slipped from between her lips and she placed another kiss on it’s tip before diving back down.

Someday, she was going to kill him and Alistair wouldn’t even complain. His moan of approval rang out in the silent room while his fingers stroked through her soft hair. She felt… Maker, she felt fantastic.

Then her tongue swirled around him and he hissed, knuckles gripping the chair going white. “Sarita.”

She made a noise of approval that vibrated around his length and he moaned again. That only emboldened her to devour him with relish. Her teasing tongue danced over his throbbing shaft, she hollowed her cheeks to suck him deeper into her mouth.

Alistair’s hand trembled. Fire ignited in his spine, traveling down to his groin. He clenched his jaw, trying to stave it off, until Sarita’s eyes found his again.

He was lost the second he saw the matching heat in her gaze. With a groan of defeat, Alistair surrendered to the pleasure she coaxed from him. His head fell back, something buzzing in his ears as his cock swelled further before everything went white.

Searing white. Hotter than anything he’d ever touched.

He came back to himself in pieces, panting and slick with sweat, Sarita’s fingers swirling patterns over his thighs. He huffed a small, choked laugh that was matched by her giggle.

“Missed you.” She admitted softly, resting her head on his thigh.

“Only cause you love me.” He murmured.

“I do. Very much.”

His heart melted in his chest and he looked back down into her angelic face. “Good. Cause I’m quite mad for you.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, negativenorth!

For @negativenorth <3 

Read On AO3

*****

This is Our Last (First) Christmas

The Hale Pack survived junior year. Miraculously. The troubles that surrounded them sophomore year brought on by their sacrifices to find their parents were increased by the cleansing ritual in the spring Stiles and Deaton did. It cleansed the Hale Territory-including Beacon Hills and the Preserve-The Pack, the air, the ground, even the humans of all the remaining darkness; reawakening the hibernating Ley Lines and brightening the light of Beacon Hills.

The summer was strangely terror-less. Deaton explained the cleansing happened like and earthquake, the energy radiating out and it would take some time until the epicenter was found but once things found it, everyone would tune into it. The Hale Territory was highly desired by many supernaturals for many reasons. Derek (under the advisement of Stiles) began a training regiment for the pack, humans included. Derek focused more on the wolves-Scott, Jackson, Danny, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Ethan and Aiden-who deflection helped defeat the Alpha pack and Derek welcomed in with open arms. The humans trained too, but with Melissa on first aid and field trauma medicine and Chris and John with hand to hand and gun and knife combat training. Stiles had added training with Deaton on magic. Eventually, The wolves joined the humans.

"Why do we need medical training?" Isaac asked, diligently paying attention to proper stitching technique.

"If something happens, yeah you may heal but that doesn't solve blood loss. Or if a human is out. Or you needed to be inconspicuous about lycanthropy. Technically you don't exist." Stiles said. "Or a broken bone that heals wrong."

"He's not wrong. I agree." Derek chimed in.

"You're only agreeing because-"Erica was cut off by a hard nudge to the ribs from Allison and a heated glare from Scott. Stiles was confused but let it go, only to silently agree with the Mate-Marks on their right arm-a vine of bright red thorny roses.

"Well, if Mom says and Dad agrees then I guess we have no choice." Jackson sneered. Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me for wanting you to stay alive, dipshit. These aren't bad skills to have in general even. My first aid saved your fucking ass more than once." Stiles practically snarled. This pack was made up of his friends but that didn't mean they were easy to get along with. Jackson opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by Lydia's hand on his arm. Stiles always smiled softly when he got a glimpse of their Mate-Mark behind their ears, the chemical formula C43H66N12O12S2 also known as oxytocin.

A week during the fall of junior year, Stiles felt a chill go down his spine. One of the wards he spent several long days putting up with Deaton's teaching had been triggered. He had put up a dozen or so of varying intent, getting stronger and closer together the closer to Derek's loft they got. Stiles had a list in his journal of placements to recharge them if needed but Deaton had told him with his Spark and use of Ley lines, they will stay charged and operational until removal. Stiles texted to Derek to warn him of the visitor and he with Boyd checked it out.

That was the first of almost weekly trespassers of the creatures-that-go-bump-in-the-night variety. The pack had their training, their strength, their determination to survive but they didn't have their teamwork, their trust, their knowledge to win. Stiles and Lydia and occasionally Allison worked to compile as much information as possible from Deaton and Chris and Derek and independent research as possible. The Pack grew smart but they still couldn't click, they used too much brawn not enough brain.

"You would think, with werewolves needing packs, they would innately understand teamwork." Stiles said. He was at the Argent's house looking at few of Chris's books. He had become more helpful since Allison and Scott finally told him the truth about their Mate-Marks. He didn't like it but he know helped as much as he could knowing that was the only way to get his daughter safe.

"You have to remember Stiles, they may be werewolves now but they are teenagers first. High schoolers. Derek isn't that much older than you all. You somehow see the bigger picture but they can't." Chris said.

"I have always had to see the big picture. No one else was looking at it at the beginning. I was trying to keep everyone alive, not just-"Stiles cut himself off. "You are so right. You always have the best ideas." Stiles sagged a little with relief. He was glad he'd been able to convince Chris to help them, join them. "I have to go." Stiles left the kitchen, uncharacteristically leaving the books scattered on the table. He hopped into his jeep and headed straight to Derek's loft.

"Derek, are you home?" Stiles opened the door to the loft with the only spare key Derek ever made.

"Hey, Stiles. Surprise seeing you here, everything okay?" Derek popped out from the kitchen. "I am making dinner, care to join me?"

"Oh, that would be nice. Everything is okay, I just have something to talk to you about." Stiles sat at the island rubbing a thumb against the glass Derek handed him and the other rubbed the spot behind his ear.

"Okay. If you are this serious then it probably has some merit." Derek said. Stiles felt proud of the growth Derek had gone through. He had become a better man and Alpha since the pack had grown and settled and he was able to grieve properly. Stiles, however was confused at his statement. Derek looked up to see Stiles looking back with his head tilted and eyes narrowed. "You have tells just like the rest of us. You may know all of ours but you don't know your own. You have gotten good at lying to us weres but you forget that some of us? We know you. Like me, you rub behind your ear when you are thinking about something and it may upset the balance of things." Derek explained. Stiles didn't know how to answer, wasn't sure what to say, Derek studied him? It made sense in Stiles' head, at the beginning Derek needed to know everyone's angle even his.

"I didn't know that." Stiles said. He decided to ignore the other parts Derek said until later. "I know as a pack we have strengths and weaknesses. We need to work on those weaknesses, our biggest one? Teamwork. This pack is holding the strongest territory in the Northwest right now, and it is made up of young werewolves and several humans and a Banshee who all happen to be teenagers in high school. We had a social hierarchy and it worked until you bit several of them. Now they have to relearn that, everything is discombobulated causing tensions, and second-guessing and we may have survived until now but eventually that won't be enough. We may be a pack but we won't be a family until that happens." Stiles paused realizing how that sounds. "Not that I want to replace yours. I just want-I don't mean to-I get it. I don't want you to be alone anymore." Stiles finally spit out.

"I know what you mean. I would never think that you of all people are trying to somehow push away my family. You have too much resect for others to even think that." Derek said. His face was relaxed and open, the skin around his eyes wasn't even tight. You probably love hearing this from me, even though I say it a lot. You are right. We don't know each other well enough to know what we'd risk for each other. So what is your idea?" Derek turned back to the stove.

"What makes you think I have an idea?" Stiles asked. Derek just threw a look over his shoulder at the young man.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't have an idea." Derek said.

"I was thinking of having the pack rebuild your house. It would give them a safe common goal and outlet. It would reestablish your territory ad strength pack bonds and the bond with the land. it would give us a den. I know I just said I don't want to replace your family. And that is true. I don't want to because I know I can't. I can however make the pain less, the burden lighter and you happier. We can do this together Derek. Me and you. like always.

"I. I will think about it." Derek said very slowly. Stiles nodded. Derek said nothing else, instead finished up dinner and Stiles took it as a sign to get place settings ready and switch to lighter topics.

The winter of junior year was made up of blood, sweat, tears, anger, resentment, claws, teeth, bullets, arrows. The pack was surviving, but barely. Stiles could see the fault lines forming, the glares more frequent. He never pushed Derek, only waited and hoped. He knew that the Hale Pack had the potential to be amazing once again, but only if they worked for it.

The spring of junior year bloomed with hope, filled with finals college preparation and a wendigo or two. March came and went but April came in like a lion. Derek had made his decision, rebuilding the Hale Manor is needed and would do them some good. The pack had too many issues amongst themselves to work through, if they didn't settle as a whole and members of that whole, then more people would die and the pack would fall apart. Derek's decision came instinctively, The young betas had been arguing over who was to land the first hit, the baddy of the week threw Erica into a tree skewering her on a branch. Derek saw it happen in slow motion, anger thrumming in his veins. That second she impacted the tree Derek knew. He would make a pack out of these teenagers or die trying. They needed the pack as much as he did.

Derek stood over his pack watching them cuddle each other from a distance. They were on the floor of the loft spread out, but unable to ignore the need to touch. Lydia had a leg curled with Allison, tucked under Jackson arm. Isaac bridged the space between Erica and Boyd and Scott and Allison. Stiles was sitting at the island still working. Always working. Derek had actively tried to not look at Stiles, the few glances he allowed had the same results, heart pounding breath catching results. Stiles had showered and was wearing a pair of sweats he'd left here some day and a shirt of Derek's, who's scent of pine and leather mixed deliciously with Stiles' own scent of lemon and honeysuckle. Derek was glad the rest of the pack was sleeping, unable to witness him softening. Stiles was the only one to bring it out. He sat down next to Stiles, pulling his feet into his lap, rubbing lightly.

"I've been thinking...about what you said a while back." Derek couldn't look at Stiles. He instead focused on his feet. "About rebuilding."

"Oh? Did you come to a decision then?" Stiles kept his face turned to the books in front of him, side-eyeing Derek. He knew that staring would only cause Derek to shut down harder. Stiles could feel his heart pounding, knew Derek could hear it but tried to project calmness.

"Yeah. I did. I want to do it. I need to do it. The last step of grieving and the first step of acceptance. This pack needs a fresh start. You are right, like always. I only want to do this if you help me every step of the way. I can't do this by myself. I don't trust anyone else to help." Derek admitted. Stiles beamed. The absolute joy and pride on his face made Derek almost forget that he had just agreed to tear down the last standing reminder of his family.

As if Stiles could read his mind, "They'd want you to be happy. I would be honor to help you.

The decision to rebuild the house triggered something in Stiles. He began working with Deaton, honing his sputtering spark into a full-fledged flame. Deaton was impressed with his strength, commenting the flame was more like an inferno. Stiles did his school work on top of learning magic and keeping a pack of rag-tag teenagers alive. Deaton explained that Sparks were common but without proper training burned out, with proper training Sparks became witches or varied magic users, they often became emissaries to those in need or ran shops. The idea of being a pack emissary resonated with Stiles and that became his goal. He learned moon phases, herbs, spells, enchantments, crystals, sigils, runes, ancient languages. As he learned, he wasn't the only one to grow emotionally. The pack began to pull down the old Hale Manor. Piece by piece, they pulled it down. The beginning was hard-insult were thrown without care for where they landed, more than one fight broke out usually but they worked together and talked and learned about each other. The insults lost their thorns, the glares lost their heat and the smiles lost their fangs.

During the days between the too-hot spring days and the too-cold summer days, the last dumpster full of the remains of the Hale Manor vanished down the road. Derek watched feeling numb. Stiles stood by in quiet solidarity. All that was left was the scorched earth and a smattering of rubble, the grass was stained gray from ash and fire, the foundation crumbling into itself. There would be a specialist coming to demolish and redo the foundation, that was something Derek requested. The two men looked at the now empty clearing, Stiles pretended not to notice the trembling of Derek's fingers. Stiles simply took his hand in his and pulled him down to sit, letting Derek lean against him and grieve.

"No one likes it when strangers speak for those who you have lost. I know I hated it. I also know what it is like to an extent." Stiles paused. "They would be proud of you. You were in a down really low, and you brought yourself back. You did it." Stiles pressed himself into Derek's bulk.

Thanks. It has meaning coming from you. I know you understand. You know loss, not like Scott. You don't pretend to be unaffected like Jackson." Derek sat for a bit, letting the Stiles' strength soak into his bones. He wasn't alone anymore. He could do this. He wasn't 16 again pushing away Laura in a fit of survivor's guilt. He had Stiles. He had his pack. "Now what?" Derek turned to face Stiles, looking like as lost as a child after a nightmare.

"Now we build your house. Together." Stiles said. "And watch YouTube. Lots of it."

The summer between junior and senior year was the best Stiles had in a long time. He and his mother always had adventures and busy days. Then one year it was just him and Scott. It was only the two of them for years, neither popular enough for summer plans. The others in the pack in similar circumstances. Allison didn't stay around long enough to make plans and Lydia and Jackson's families made plans without consent. Stiles and Derek read and watched and googled for hours before getting the materials. The did it step by step from framing to electric to plumbing to hanging drywall to building stairs to putting in windows. Derek bought the supplies, secretly pleased that the insurance, investment, assess money was getting some use, not just growing interest, coming into several millions of dollars was daunting without a purpose especially when part of the blame fell on his shoulders. With every step of the way, Stiles and Derek worked together to make the idea into a house into a home. Stiles layered charms and spells and enchantments and runes and straight ingredients into everything. Protection from water, fire, illness, bad luck, ill-intent, accidents, death, and anything Stiles could think of was woven into every step, from the frame to the paint. The house was built by Stiles and Derek for the pack, for the future, for each other.

"Derek, we need a bigger kitchen. And I think a mudroom will be a good investment with a lever handle door. We have a nice entrance way, where people came come in and hang up their jackets and put away shoes but the back entrance doesn't have anything." Stiles was looking over the blueprints with Derek. He was making notes for when they finalized some decisions.

"Why?" Derek asked.

"You will be housing a pack of teenage/twentysomething werewolves. You need a big enough kitchen and matching pantry to feed a small country." Stiles said, still scribbling notes.

"No." Derek growled. He was running out of patience. He wanted to make this house with Stiles but everyone seemed to have an opinion on something. Which would be fine it he had asked, or if there was some logic but the majority was just annoying.

"You don't want a big kitchen? I mean it is your house." Stiles looked confused but his voice seemed blank, undermined by his pounding heart and cold brittle scent of sadness.

Derek wanted to growl but held back. Derek didn't want to push him away. Derek liked how close they had been getting, his wolf was pleased as well. His wolf had been unusually attached to the young man since the beginning and was originally satisfied but as time went on both Derek and his wolf wanted more and more, not sure what they were asking for. The concern for Stiles' wellbeing, high sensitivity to Stiles' emotion and heartbeat, The willingness to entertain Stiles' commentary and personality and enjoy it, his gaze lingering on Stile' fingers and throat, reveling in the challenges he offered all resonated with Derek as signs pointing to Stiles being his mate but if that was true they would have Mate-Marks.

"It is our house." Derek said. It was all he could give right now, a house where Stiles could be relaxed and happy, Derek would have to accept what he had for right now.

"So, yes big kitchen?" Stiles looked up, Derek just stared back waiting. "Oh! The lever handle is so you can open it with paws."

That is humiliating. And smart. Make it so."

"You did not just make a Star Trek: The Next Generation reference. Are you a closeted nerd?" Stiles poked Derek in the ribs, peering at him suspiciously. Derek stayed silent, glad Stiles couldn't hear his pounding heart. Stiles laughed, head tilted back, cheeks crinkled and mouth open. Derek could only stare and memorize the moment, proud he got Stiles to laugh that easily. Derek could hear the thoughts in his soul: mine, claim, mate. The possessiveness and softness was happening more and more but only around Stiles, further adding to the mate checklist. Derek just enjoyed the moment.

Come on. Let's finish this. I do eventually want to move in, ya know?" Derek tapped the paper with a single claw, trying to remind Stiles-ineffectually-he could rip his throat out with his teeth.

The weekend before senior year found the pack piled in the living room of the recently finished Hale Manor. The pack was well-protected and well-stablished now with Stiles' magic and the 'den' and the bonds that were solidified over the summer. Deaton said the terrors of the years past will not go away but would drastically slow down. The Hale Territory was claimed and the others would understand innately. The plan worked, the band of high school students thrown together by happenstance became a pack, a family. And it showed, in moment like this. They were tightly woven together on a bed of pillows and blankets with a Disney movie playing softly on TV. Stiles looked on and felt his chest warm and his heart flutter. He pulled out his phone and making sure the shutter and flash were off took a few pictures, trying to shove away the sadness and nostalgia. He had been slightly obsessed with taking photos lately, needing proof that the pack had come together, they now had a home not only physically but in one another too. He had done it, he had somehow kept them alive through all the bullshit. They only had one year left together and he didn't want to look back and regret not capturing the memories or being unable to remember the normal days. One day, a year from now he would look up and realize everyone had scattered like seeds on the wind, he wanted to remember. Stiles got up from the chair he was curled up in, he was feeling melancholy didn't want to ruin the mood. Even Derek was on the edge of the puppy pile. He decided to use his favorite goodbye tactic he borrowed from the Irish.

"I can hear you thinking too hard from over here. Come join us. Get comfy. And we can talk, I know something is on your mind." Derek ungracefully shoved the others to make room. It isn't pack night if one person leaves."

Fine." Stiles was a sucker for the pack card. He knew he was pack but not being a wolf meant he couldn't feel the bonds as strongly as the others so he needed reminded sometimes. Stiles slipped in between Derek and the pack, thoughts like: safe, pack, mate, mine. After a few seconds Derek pinched him lightly. "I just don't know hat I am to do next. I did what I was supposed to do. I kept Scott alive, I helped you, I healed the land, solidified the pack. My job is done. This time next year, the pack might be tossed across the country and then what? We come back for weekend and holidays? For how long? Then we just fall apart and I never have this again? I made this family just like each of them did. I can't lose another one." Stiles felt his stomach drop at the cold, bitter, sharp feeling his own words gave him.

"That isn't how this works. A pack this established only gets stronger. No one gets out. There may be distance but not much and not for long. We are too new of a pack for that. You certainly don't get to leave, you are my emissary. You are connected to me and the pack and the land. Don't force ties to break when you don't know the future. There is time, there are options. Enjoy now, before fretting about the future. Talk to them, You'd be surprised to hear you aren't as alone as you think." Derek pulled Stiles closer, tucking him tightly into his embrace. "That is why you get sad after taking photos. You think old memories are all you will have left."

"I would rather leave then be left. I have grow weary of being left." Stiles tried to shrug.

"Don't look too far ahead, you'll miss the now. Make memories to enjoy the moment not resign yourself to only having memories." Derek said. Stiles nodded and snuggled closer, Derek's body heat and voice rumbling in his chest soothing his anxiety. "Go to sleep, Stiles. I'll be right here."

Fall of senior year was calm, content. Stiles and Lydia and Danny were in a heated competition for valedictorian, a contest that was a secret to everyone in school but no one in the pack. Some filled out college applications like Danny, Jackson, Lydia. Some decided to go the technical route like Erica, Boyd. Isaac and Scott were looking at community college. Stiles adopted a forget about it and it doesn't exist attitude. He often pulled out pamphlets or packets only to sort them into piles and then put them away again. He changed the subject when asked about anything dealing with after senior year. The closest he got to talking about it was with Derek one day, by themselves hanging out on a Friday night. He told Derek, he liked magic and the supernatural and being a witch, he might open a shop, take over for Deaton who wanted to be a vet and only a vet. That was the last time he seriously spoke about it. The pack spent full moons together, running and eating dinner and then a sleepover. Slowly each pack member added their own things to the house, a blanket here, a favorite mug there, A sweatshirt draped over a chair, a forgotten pair of shoes left by the front door. Stiles took pictures and cleaned and tutored. He talked a lot without saying much. Derek knew something was on his mind.

"I want you to come over tonight. I told everyone to stay away. We have some things to talk about." Derek texted him one day in October.

Stiles went over, slouched over like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Derek felt sympathy for the kid.

"Stiles, I know you have been struggling a bit. Understandably so. A lot has happened these past few years. I want you to sit here with me, all night if we have to, and talk over your options. I want you to do what you want to do. I know your dad wants you to go to college and I know you want to open a shop. I think you can do both, and with the way the world works, I think you could make it work. I would gladly help, we can build you a small shop here or something." Derek said. Stiles sagged, eyes lit with relief.

"You don't think it is a dumb idea? Magic isn't well known, and I won't be successful." Stiles said.

"You are right, But people from all over will come if you are good. You will gain a following. I believe you would be a great successor to Alan, if you so choose. I will gladly help you get to that point." Derek said.

"What? I don't even know what I am doing." Stiles rubbed his face. "I can't let you...support me while I decide what I want to do."

"You are running out of time. You didn't hold me up in a pool for two hours for me for me to not learn what kind of person you are. You already made up your mind. You have helped me over and over and over again. Let me help you!" Derek demanded. Stiles threw up his hands, groaning loudly.

"What do you want me to say? That I want to learn all that I can to help you be the best alpha you can be? of the best pack we can be? And if I help other people with things around town or even farther, that would be perfection? That I have no idea what I want to do, but I can't see myself going to university and getting a typical 9-5 job and having 2.5 kids? That you coming in all dark and broody ruined me for all normalcy." Stiles ranted. He was gesturing wildly, pacing in short burst.

"Yeah. That is all I want. Feel better?" Derek, pulled Stiles close, rubbing his nose into his hair. Stiles leaned against him, this time borrowing strength.

"A little. I am glad I finally got to say it aloud. now I have to convince my dad." Stiles said. Derek squeezed him in a side hug.

"We have to convince your dad. You aren't alone, I'm not going anywhere, ever, We're a team." Stiles smiled softly and nodded, relaxing into Derek's grip.

The days and nights grew colder, the wolves handing full moon runs when the humans got the food, hot chocolate and movies ready for their return. Or rather Stiles did, the others just laid about, studying or figuring out how to move into Derek's house without their families noticing. November was quickly finishing and Stiles' favorite time of year was approaching. He had already pulled out the containers of decorations for his own house, trying to figure out how to bring it up to Derek. He wanted to have a pack Christmas, wanted to go out and pick out a tree together, and hang the garlands and argue over where the lights go on the tree, hang up ornaments and behind everyone's back rearrange them. He wanted to get presents for everyone, wrapping them with paper and ribbons and bows.

"Stiles, is something burning?" Scott said coming into the kitchen, kissing Allison on the temple. The other Mates sharing in similar displays of affection. Jackson and Lydia cuddling on a large chair, Erica and Boyd sharing a chaste kiss. Derek walked up to Stiles simultaneously pulling the pan of bacon off the stove and trailing a hand down his jaw to latch into his hair.

"Shit! The bacon. I was distracted. Sorry. It should be fine, I am mixing it to make perogies for you tomorrow. Its Sunday after all." Stiles said softly. He still looked a million miles away, Derek pulled him around ducking slightly to make eye contact.

"Stiles, is something the matter? Are you okay?" Derek asked. After they talked about Stiles' future Stiles had been coming to Derek more and more for support. Derek was more vocal with his thoughts, trying to verbalize emotions. The pack was close, a family but only because the two of them were a solid unit. They knew each other in and out.

Stiles looked nervous, like he didn't know how to ask. Derek just raised an eyebrow. "I want to decorate for Christmas. Here. I want to go and pick out directions and a tree and argue over lights and rearrange the ornaments when no one is looking. I want to agonize for days over the prefect presents. I want to do that, if you are okay with that." Stiles said, in a round of word vomit.

"Okay. I want that too, I was going to ask soon, you just beat me to the punch. How about we pick a day after Thanksgiving to pick out a tree and maybe you can come with me a few days to pick out Christmas decorations, without the children." Derek huffed a laugh into Stiles' temple. "This is your house too, You'll be here just as much as I will be. I want you to do what makes you happy."

"Okay. I'd like that. We can talk about it more later. Let's eat and then tomorrow we can look at some ideas, I want you to be the end all, end all on decisions." Stiles beamed at Derek. He went back to making dinner, leaving the slightly burnt bacon cool off to the side.

Thanksgiving was spent with their families, Derek did join the Stilinksi and McCalll's and Isaac for the big meal, finalizing plans with Stiles on decorations and tree-hunting. They decided on a red, green, gold scheme and more traditional type decorations, simple and minimalistic. Stiles used his internet skills to get some deals on older decorations on craigslist and facebook. They had a few pick-ups scheduled and the time for tree-hunting at a local christmas tree farm. Derek's only request was it had to be a big tree.

The pack three days later met up and began discussing trees. They were all in agreement, for a tall bushy tree but they couldn't pick a species until an employee showed them the examples and explained the difference. Three hours later and they finally agreed on the perfect tree and were on the way to the house. Stiles made them help him put it up right away so it warms up and the branches drop. The pack then scatters and Stiles and Derek head out and got decorations.

Derek watched Stiles spend the next few days putting the inside decorations in places. Derek helping with a comment here or there, but staying quiet, enjoying having someone to share the holiday with. "Thank you Stiles. I am glad, even though we've been through some shit together, that I have met you. I found myself because of you. I am glad that you are happy here with me." Derek told him.

"Me too. I feel safe here with you. Like I belong here, with you." Stiles said. "I know that wolves have mates obviously when they get introduced to each other, but sometimes when I am with you...you look at me and see me and I feel you..." Stiles shook his head.

"I do too. I am more attuned to you and your scent and heart than anyone in the pack. I can only chalk it up to you doing what would be my mate's job if I had one. I am not sure Stiles but I am not mad about it. Maybe after the holidays we can figure it out." Derek said.

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan." Stiles agreed.

The almost confessions triggered something, Derek became more tactile and protective than ever towards Stiles, Stiles made sure the betas were fed and the house was clean and tutored when needed and gave advice. They had been a unit before but now, Stiles and Derek were barely apart, only for school hours. Stiles' dad at one point asked if he was moving in and Stiles took that as permission and did just that (practically) moved in and also used the opportunity to tell John about his post-school plans. John was hesitant and needed some time to think it over before he could agree and support his son. Stiles did as promised and agonized for days what to get each of his friends. He meticulously wrapped each and every one of them. The one that took the longest to put together was the most important.

Stiles had learned many things over the last two and half years, about the world, himself, his hometown, his local vet. One of those things was his most important secret-he had been in love with Derek Hale for two of those years. It wasn't anything grand or extreme, one day Stiles saw him smile at a joke and decided he needed to do that all the time. Stiles knew that Derek needed somebody in his corner and chose to be that person. He didn't know spending all that time with his dry humor and caring nature and supportive personality would result with him falling in love with the older man but he wouldn't change anything that happened for anything in the world. 'except getting his real family back.'Stiles thought. 'That is it! A photo album. The Hales are a very old and well known family, there should be some photographs floating around.'

Stiles got to work. He went to the library and school paper archives, pulling out back issues of newspapers and yearbooks. He called into several nearby packs, opening the Hale pack up to negotiations in the future and even searched through Beacon Hills residents photos to find any and all of the Hale family memories. He also searched the star registry for a bright one towards the north and named it Talia Hale, so Derek would be able to find a guiding light for the rest of his life.

Stiles spent days putting the album together, finding near 75 photos and newspaper clippings for it. He also framed the star certificate and got a observatory to take very good photos of the star. and framed those as well. He was so focused Stiles forgot that his dad told him family was coming over. He obsessed over ever little detail for his present.

Derek did not fare much better. He had decided on a two part present for Stiles as well. One was a greenhouse/workshop Derek was having built for Stiles and a small business front to turn into a shop. Derek bought the shop and added Sties name to the deed so it was legally his. The greenhouse was going to be built in the spring so it could be used over the summer. Derek knew it might be too much for a friend but Stiles saved his life. Without Stiles, Derek would be alone and devastated and family-less. He fell in love with the whiskey eyes and contagious laughter and selflessness and love and compassion. They may not be Mates but Derek wanted no one else with him in the future, not only as a pack member or an emissary but even more than that. Derek kept his feelings a secret not wanting to push Stiles away.

The 23rd of December was the pack Christmas day. They had a wonderful breakfast and were in their PJ's getting settled and waiting for everyone. Everyone go a seat and the presents were sorted. They went in a circle.

"Derek, can you open my last? I...um..." Stiles said. Derek nodded not commenting on the obvious nerves.

"Only if you open mine last too." Derek said. Stiles nodded smiling gratefully. They went around and opened presents; clothes and make up and a few books for the girls, the boys got video games and comics and clothes. Honestly it was a good first Christmas as friends.

all that was left was Derek's present from Stiles and vice versa. The pack watched in silence. Neither moved.

"Please go first." Stiles pleaded. Derek looked between the presents left on his lap and Stiles. Derek picked up what Stiles knew to be the album. Derek gently pulled the paper off pausing in confusion. He looked up at Stiles again who waved at him to continue. He opened the book, the front page being a family picture of the Hales for the work Talia did to create the preserve.

"Stiles, is this..."Derek couldn't finish.

"Yeah It is. A Hale Pack photo album. Took me a while to make it. Think it was an idea even before I knew it." Stiles explained. Derek thought of the all the photos Stiles had taken recently and flipped to the back pages, glossy photos of his current family lined the pages. The last phot was a picture of him and Stiles cuddling on a pack night, the note below was in Allison hand, You both deserve love and happiness no matter who it comes from..

"Thank you Stiles. Thank you." Derek knew somehow in his soul, that was Stiles showing his love for him, without saying. Words took courage, and that wasn't easily found in front of others. "Open yours. The bottom one. Please."

Stiles did as he asked, opening the bottom one, a square shaped box. He opened it to see a copy of a building deed sitting in tissue paper. "Der-Derek. You didn't...Not the-" Stiles' voice broke. He scent blooming with tears and pleasure.

"That place on Pine you've been dreaming about for two months? Why, yes it is." Derek tried to play it off as funny.

"This isn't funny. I told you I didn't want you help." Stiles tried to sound stern. Derek only shook his head.

"I told you to let me help. I did. Also it is technically half mine. But you have a place now. You can actually do it." Derek said. The pack made noises of confusion.

"I am not going to university. I am doing online classes but I am opening a magic shop and taking over for Deaton and becoming Hale Pack Emissary. Derek just bought my dream location." Stiles announced to cheers from the pack. Stiles knew in that moment that is how it felt knowing someone loved you enough to give you want you needed not just what you wanted. He knew how it felt to know someone loved him enough to stand with him not out of obligation but actual love and desire to do so.

They opened the other presents with similar reactions.

"A greenhouse? Seriously? and a workshop?" Stiles was dumbfounded.

"You named a literal star after my mother. A. Star." Derek was flabbergasted.

The rest of the pack sensed it was time to leave, the two men had a lot to discuss-least of all their emotions. The pack began piling out trying not to overhear the conversation.

"Derek, I can't accept this. I really can't. It may be all I ever wanted but I can't let you give it to me. We talked about this, I am filling in. If I was meant to be this important, we'd be mates." Stiles said.

"You aren't a fill in. Do you think I would give you up for someone I don't know? I would never. No relationship will ever be more important than our to me. You say this is all you ever wanted? You can have it!" Derek said.

"This isn't something I can take, you may change your mind, or find someone better. This is something to dream and hope for. Let me dream and hope, so I don't get hurt." Stiles sounded sad and broken. Derek made a soft wounded noise.

"You are it for me. I built you a goddamn house Stiles. I tore down my last memory of my family for you. We have almost died for each other too many times to count for you to back out now." Derek said. Stile growled and shuffled trying to think of an argument. He was saved by his dad coming down the road in a hurry. The pack was spilled on the porch trying to look like they hadn't been listening.

"Scott, where is Stiles?" John called. Stiles and Derek came out at the sound of his voice. "Mieczyslaw Stilinski! You were supposed to by home an hour ago! We have family coming in today remember!" John yelled, standing against his open car door.

"I'll be right there!" Stiles blanched. "I can't believe I forgot." He turned to Derek. "We aren't done here, mister."

"Your first name is really Mieczyslaw?" Derek asked. He didn't want Stiles leaving while angry, it made it anxious.

"Yep! Mieczyslaw Stilinski. Please to meet you Derek Hale!" Stiles understood what Derek was going for without him saying like most times.

"Please to meet you too." Derek chuckled before a sharp pain brought him and Stiles to their knees.

Several painful minutes later, Stiles was laughing hard enough he had tears streaming down his face. He left hand was clamped over his shirt collar, knuckles white. Derek stared openmouthed. John and the rest of the pack stood confused and worried.

"Did what I think happen just actually happen?" Scott asked.

"We'd never been formally introduced. Definitely not with my first name. Mate-Marks only form when properly introduced." Stiles moved his hand to show the large wolf print marking his upper chest and collarbone.

Derek laughed. and laughed and laughed before swooping down and pressing a slightly desperate kiss onto Stiles' lips. "Guess we won't have to discuss the shopfront or greenhouse later, mate." Derek grinned goofily at Stiles who could help but smile back just as dopey.

"Guess not" Stiles said. "I guess not."

Both of them could feel the calmness and happiness in their souls for finding their mates. Derek's wolf stopped shifting anxiously as it had been for months, finally calming down for Derek to relax. Both of them filled to the brim: safe, mate, mine, forever.

[thejudgingtrash]

[ID: A dark camping side with a fire pit in the foreground. A white frame highlights the logs and the fire. Orange sparks ascend into the sky. Underneath the white frame stands the title ‘A Warm Place at the Fire’. End of ID.]

As promised, @goldendaysareahead​ a little fanfic about my Camp Hestia AU!

I hope you enjoy it and thank you for @the-real-annabeth-chase​ for being yet again an amazing beta!

A Warm Place at the Fire (3,8k) 

“There! We’ve almost made it!” yelled Bode. His hooves would have brought him much faster near his goal if it weren’t for the mortal legs next to him that trampled to keep up with his speed. Thunder crackled in the distance which made Bode’s brown skin glow in an unusual pale blue.

The satyr looked over his shoulder. His enhanced hearing made him filter out the noise much better. It also helped him focus on the danger behind him. The growls, the hissing and the mass that the animal carried as it surged ahead to kill its prey. “Don’t look behind you!” panted Bode as his friend was about to turn his head.

“Are you kidding me?” coughed the young boy. His legs were burning, and his lungs felt like they were set on fire. “Look who’s talking!”

“Parker, now’s not the time!”

Thunder.

Everything today fell apart. Everything today was nothing but a major disaster. Everything… was simply strange. Parker was used to strange things. He had a vivid fantasy as a kid and always talked about the plants singing for him before he started elementary school. But today really took the cake.

It started with Parker failing three reports at school and slowly peaked to Parker’s father getting robbed in his shop, to said father calling Bode to tell him to put Parker far away in a summer camp for gifted kids out of all places and now after running through the busy streets of New York City, a hell of a ride in a taxi cab that three blind ladies who fought over one single eyeball drove, some weird animal hybrid had sensed them and decided to hunt them the minute they arrived in Long Island.

Oh, and Bode Underwood, Parker’s newfound best friend and neighbor who had just transferred to his middle school, was apparently a satyr with the hairiest goat legs Parker had ever seen and he even had tiny horns hidden in his tight black curls.

The earth shook. It was an earthquake. It had to be an earthquake. But the way the ruptures of the earth had shifted it was clear that it could not be an earthquake. The massive body of an animal still wanted its prey. Tearing two children apart was what he desired.

“There! We’ve almost made it, hold on, Parker!” hissed Bode.

Parker was trying to not land on his face as the path became muddier. It had rained the previous days in New York. “Look! The sign!”

Parker’s eyes followed Bode’s arm. It was true. Deep into the forest there was an archway. It was made out of marble and a wooden sign said New Athens. Behind the archway were… buildings? Houses? Didn’t Parker’s dad tell him that he would be brought into a summer camp? As the two boys came closer Parker could even read the small insignia underneath: formerly known as Camp Half-Blood.

A roar made both nearly jump. The animal. The monster. It also hissed?

Parker jumped over a fallen tree branch and Bode bleated. Oh, he’s really a goat, Parker thought.

A roar. Parker felt the heat in his back. Was he imagining acid tearing his jeans jacket apart or was it truly happening? He had no time to care about it.

The two boys nearly reached the archway. “JUMP!” yelled Bode and Parker did. The both of them slid through the archway and were greeted with silence. Parker vowed to himself to never slide on mud again. The taste of grass and dirt was truly displeasing. No wind was howling and only the echoing songs of the cicadas kept them company.

This so-called camp looked strange. It was a clash of cultures. It was a fight between new and old. To Parkers right it did look like the old grounds of a camp. They looked like they had sporting events, a dinner area and a large area for all kinds of other activities. It would have been fairly normal if it weren’t for deadly ancient weapons lying around in front of a cabin and the dozens of cabins themselves. Each cabin had a different character to it as if they were dedicated to someone. They radiated a strange force. Parker instinctively knew that it was old and ancient, that it was powerful.

The left of the campgrounds were the polar opposite. It wasn’t just buildings and houses. It was an entire city. It was a huge construction side with many finished and unfinished buildings. A city so big yet so hidden deep in the woods of Long Island. The architecture was astounding, and the design was precise and heavily inspired by the world of Ancient Greece.

Was that a CVS out of all things placed into something that looked like the pantheon? And it had a Trader Joe’s next to it in something that looked like another temple? An entire Ancient Greek Taco Bell with a crunch wrap supreme advertisement that had a lightning bolt pressed into its side?! And in the middle of the city was an old market place like in Hollywood movies?

What’s going on? asked Parker himself.

A big blue house seemed to draw the line between old and new. The old ways and the new life. The yesterday and the new beginning at dawn. The old life that Parker had and the new one that rose like a phoenix from its ashes.

Yes, Bode and he made it. The boys had truly made it. They were alive and safe! For now. They gave each other a high five as they rested on the ground and thanked the shining stars above them for their guidance.

A clash disrupted their celebratory mood. The beast. Parker finally saw it in its entire glory. The head of a lion. The back of a reptile? Was that a dragon? And its tale was a snake out of all things?

Fearsome snarls and growls were drowned out behind the invisible layer that prevented the beast from entering campgrounds. The piercing yellow eyes shifted and tried to find the mortal flesh it desired only to be disappointed. The barrier was too strong to be penetrated. The massive beast turned around and was lost from Parker’s sight as it became one with the forest’s darkness. Parker’s adrenaline rush slowly faded away and his heart rate returned to normal.

What he felt rushing over him was a wave of fatigue. He felt the aching pain of his burning lungs that demanded more oxygen, the pain in his bones and muscles that wanted some rest. The young boy sank into the soft grass and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Bode only patted his shoulder as he sat down next to him. The satyr was tired but not as exhausted as the camp’s newest family member.

“You’ve made it,” Bode whispered.

“You’ve made it here, safely! Everything will be alright once the moon chariot sets and the one of the sun rises, we’ll take the entire day to truly process what happens and make a plan about what your father had said, alright?” Parker was too tired to realize the true meanings behind Bode’s words. He only mumbled a “yeah,” and tried to breathe with a steady rhythm.

“Hey Parker,” Bode started, “You just survived the chimera which is something I’m incredibly thankful as that beast has killed other kids prior.”

Chimera? For some odd reason that weird Hercules movie from Disney came to Parker’s mind. “It did what now?”

Bode raised his hands in defense. “Woah hold your horses! No one was seriously injured – this time.” he said.

“What’s important is that you’ll catch your breath and meet the new camp director. Right there at the fireplace.” Bode pointed into the distance and Parker’s gaze followed. “I know all of this is new and weird to you, especially since this place isn’t the most organized, but trust me.”

It was true what Bode said. The juxtaposition between the two worlds that clashed at Camp Half-Blood were simply weird to Parker’s unaccustomed eyes. But there! At the old camp site, right at the edge of old and new, there she was. A woman poking a log with what looked like a golden hook. She wore a brown gown and held a hand to the flames. The flames rose and Parker was worried that the strange lady might have singed her eyebrows accidentally. But no. It was the opposite. It was as if the fire were dancing for her. As if it’s flaring was a beautiful melody for her eyes and only her eyes.

The orange and yellow and golden streaks of the flames were hypnotizing. Parker didn’t even realize how he was already standing up on his two feet and walking towards the pit. Bode followed him. The pit looked small in the distance but only enlarged close up. Parker didn’t feel fear – it was the polar opposite. He felt as calm as he had never been before. The young boy stopped.

“Parker Mbata,” the woman smiled and turned her head to him. The reflection of the flames danced in her eyes and Parker knew that the orange highlighted his beautiful black skin. Beautiful dark skin that she had as well.

“How do you know my name?” he asked her and raised an eyebrow. His voice cracked; he didn’t want to appear impolite as that was what most people thought wrongfully about him. The woman only smiled and pointed to a seat next to her. She was middle-aged and her black braids would probably reach her knees if she had been standing upright. She was pretty. A round face that loved to smile. It wasn’t the movie star look, but she had the calm and grace of someone who had seen much of the world and was able to see the wonderful side of things.

For Parker, she had the aura of a friendly aunt that would help out with homework, try to play on a console with you and would bake here and there from time to time with you. Rib crushing hugs, hands that drove through hair, a pat on the shoulder that said: “No matter how far you’ll go, remember that I’ll always be proud of you.”

If it hadn’t been merely the surface level of her being. She was no ordinary woman like his math teacher – of that Parker was certain. Her eyes. The gleam of the orange nourished her skin and highlighted her beauty. The warmth in her eyes radiated the power of a thousand hugs.

She reeked of power that should never be underestimated.

“I know the names of all new campers,” she simply answered with an honest smile on her face.

“Thank you, Bode.” The woman said and shifted her gaze to the young satyr next to him. Parker could have sworn that he saw his best friend blush at the compliment. That or it was a simple illusion from the fire. “You may now go to your parents’ house. I’m sure Juniper is still waiting on the porch, and Grover will be over the moon with your first search that was a successful one at that.”

The corner of Bode’s mouth threatened to tear his face apart from grinning so big. “See you tomorrow, Parker!” he said before he bowed to the weird lady.

Parker waved goodbye and saw how lights of lanterns turned on in the modern part of the camp as Bode crossed the streets. They turned off again automatically as he turned to the left.

“You may call me Hestia. I’m the new camp director of Camp Half-Blood.”

“Hestia,” Parker repeated, and he saw how she nodded.

“This is a camp for very special people,” Hestia continued and poked the fire. A flame erupted and rose to the sky. “You are safe in here. No monsters or other meddlers will interfere within camp boarders or in the wider city of New Athens. You will train like other half-bloods, find your strength and weaknesses so that you may survive into adulthood and now how to protect yourself and those that you love.”

Half-blood? Monsters? Survive into adulthood? The questions stood bright on Parker’s face as his dark brown eyes widened.

Hestia laughed and patted his back. The warm feeling of being comforted flooded Parker’s body.

“You look an awful lot like my sister,” Hestia said after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

“People just say that I look like my dad only with a better fade on the sides of my head,” Parker denied. “Also, how can I look like your sister?”

Hestia grinned yet again and shook her head. The golden jewelry on her braids clanged. “That is not what I mean, Parker,” Hestia stated.

“Her personality. Her abilities. Her capabilities. All of that and more I see in you. After all, she is your mother.”

Parker’s jaw dropped. Hestia was actually his aunt? She knew his mother? How?! His father had always told him that his mother was a busy person and big in the botanic scene, chasing new discovery after new discovery and that that was the reason why she was never around. Also, Parker had the suspicion that she had fled the country so that she didn’t have to pay child support.

“But I see more in you. Further down your line.” Hestia placed her index finger underneath his chin and lifted it up slightly.

“I can see Morpheus as your great-grandfather. I can see Hermes even further down there.”

“Hermes like the Greek god?”

“Yes, my nephew is a funny albeit sometimes exhausting one.”

“So you want to say that I’m a descendant of Greek gods?”

Hestia nodded. “That I do.”

Parker coughed. Hestia was worried. She waved her hand in the air and Parker had to suppress the scream that was bubbling inside of him as a bottle with a clear liquid appeared. Now he definitely believed her. It wasn’t for the fact that a terrible monster had hunted him for nearly two hours earlier.

“Here drink this slowly. Do not haste, I’d rather not clean up the burnt remains of my newest nephew,” she winked. Parker took the bottle and a first sip.

“Nectar. The drink of the gods. It heals you demigods but too much and it’ll set you on fire.”

The drink tasted like good times. Like the fondest memories that had been deeply buried inside of Parker. The fudgy chocolate brownies with a hint of peanut butter that his father used to make for him whenever he had a good mood. And now his father had sent him away.

The disappointment hit Parker harder than the strenuous activity that had been fleeing the chimera earlier. Hestia sensed his mood and decided to distract him.

“Normally I start camp tours and initiations in the mornings, but I see that I should start out early. You aren’t the only new camper but who would mind a little head start?”, she winked again. “Let me do it differently as well. We used to show a terrible introduction movie around to introduce you into the new world but the reception has been mostly negative.”

Okay thought Parker and nodded slowly.

“How do you feel about your classmates? The Jackson twins?”

Parker narrowed his eyebrows. The twins were weird in a way that most twins were. They were definitely the sort of twins that could read each other’s minds and answer for one another if it weren’t for the fact that they seemed to annoy each other. Apart from that, they were also very friendly and sat down at lunch with him at school despite their constant bickering going on Parker’s nerves.

Ari was the more out-going and bold one and her twin Theo was quieter and more reserved. And he wore glasses that he always readjusted. Parker was definitely not fond of him. No, he was absolutely not. And the swoon in the pit of his stomach that he felt was something he would ignore for the time being.

The more important question: what did the twins have to do with all of this? Hestia grinned as if she had read all of his thoughts and emotions. “As much as I adore Ariadne and Theodoros, we need to begin a generation earlier with their parents. I have much to thank them for.”

Hestia’s immortal memory brought her pictures back that happened decades ago. As her brother threatened to smite Perseus Jackson for daring to stand up to him and ask him for another wish instead of the gift of immortality.

“From now on, I want you to properly recognize the children of the gods. All the children . . . of all the gods,” young Perseus Jackson wished. “I want you to promise to claim your children—all your demigod children—by the time they turn thirteen. They won't be left out in the world on their own at the mercy of monsters. I want them claimed and brought to camp so they can be trained right and survive.”

Oh, how her youngest brother had been furious. “And the minor gods,” Perseus exclaimed. “Nemesis, Hecate, Morpheus, Janus, Hebe—they all deserve a general amnesty and a place at Camp Half-Blood. Their children shouldn't be ignored. Calypso and the other peaceful Titan-kind should be pardoned too. And Hades as well. As for Hestia and him, I have another wish for them. Give them their seats in the Olympian council back.”

That demand made the eyebrows of Poseidon and Athena rise as Zeus’ mouth grew into an even thinner line.

And then Perseus Jackson had turned around to her and had given her the biggest gift she had ever received in her immortal life. “And aunt Hestia, you are the heart and soul of Mount Olympus. You are the guidance and comfort we seek, the hope that remains in our very core. With your permission—the permission from all gods—I’d ask Hestia if she would like to lead Camp Half-Blood as a new co-camp director alongside Chiron and Dionysus until he is done with his punishment?”

Then Hestia did only two things. Hug the savior of Olympus and accept his gracious gift to her as Zeus was legally bound to make his nephews wishes come true.

“Mr. Jackson did all of these things when he was a teenager? With his—uhhh—future wife? And Bode’s dad?” The tales of him having that much influence seemed too great and big and so… unrealistic? Parker couldn’t believe that Percy Jackson was that sort of man. He was a pastry baker and started crying whenever his wife butchered the name of one of his fancy creations according to Ari. That and he was supposedly very busy with his bakery Blue Jackson’s in Downtown Manhattan and another subsidiary in Los Angeles. And that person persuaded Olympian gods as a teenager? Saved the world as a child?

“I mean Mr. Jackson is just a baker,” Parker shrugged. “And Mrs. Chase is this crazy busy architect that also plays mom taxi somehow and drives her kids around while she’s running from meeting to meeting?” At least that was what Theo had texted him ages ago.

Hestia pointed to the beautiful city of New Athens. Not the majestic buildings that stood proudly there surrounding the market place but beyond that where the façade began to crack as the largest construction side he had ever seen. “Yes, Annabeth is incredibly busy with her occupation. As it was she that bore the grounds of New Athens as a safe haven for your kind. Do you see that house on the hill?”

It was pompous, enormous and combined the modern and ancient style beautifully. A light on the second floor was on. “The residence of the Jackson-Chase’s.”

Parker’s jaw dropped. These people must have been filthy rich. No wonder that Mr. Jackson ordered flower arrangements on the regular from his dad. Those pieces were expensive. Parker’s eyes shifted slightly to the left. A few feet away was a Blue Jackson’s bakery right next to the house. Easy commute for Mr. Jackson.

“The illuminated room is Annabeth’s office. It seems like she is still working on her designs.”

The light was suddenly switched off. “Oh!” Hestia sounded surprised. “It looks like Perseus was for once successful in telling his wife she ought to sleep. Oh well.”

Parker snickered.

“After all it is way past two in the morning. You should also rest so soon.”

But Parker didn’t want to. He was wrapped up in the tales that Hestia told him. The middle schooler reassured Hestia that he was yet not entirely worn out. The goddess sighed like a tired mother.

“And it was she, Annabeth, that restored the honor of the gods and built a cabin for every one of us gods—even the ones without half-bloods—so that we have places for our children, visitors and prayers. Until you are claimed, you will stay at Cabin Zero—my cabin,” Hestia smiled.

“We all start at Zero. We all start from nothing only to learn and to grow into something. You will find new friends, a new life, a new home. Just like your parents intended and. I am sure that Mr. Mbata will arrive soon safely at camp. I have given him instructions to hide in a secret place due to the monsters starting to sense you.”

That made Parker smile and relief spread throughout him. He would be reunited with his father very soon.

“You remind me very much of Perseus Jackson, Parker Mbata. Since the introduction movie left a sour taste in many campers and inhabitants of New Athens and you do not appear to be so sleepy, let me retell the tale of Perseus Jackson from the beginning. The most famous demigod of them all. Greater than any other hero the Greek pantheon had ever seen.”

The flames seemed to dance around goddess and demigod. “He was just like you. Small, a little bit on the scrawny side…”

Parker frowned a little bit, but Hestia giggled at her backhanded compliment.

“A half-blood. A child of man and god… Perseus gets quite frequently asked to retell his story. At first, he did so begrudgingly. He wrote his memories down. For his and anyone else’s sake. Had an entire folder with papers in his hand as he sat down. But now he grew confident and into an incredible speaker. He speaks from his heart and not from paper.”

Hestia inhaled sharply. The eldest child of Kronos turned her face to the red of the flames to recount the events that happened nearly twenty years ago.

“Perseus always starts his stories with ‘look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood’…”

The End

I’m not really an OC person but I hope you enjoyed this little thought experiment regardless ;>

If anyone is interested in my other fanfics, I can offer you How Could You (Percabeth, sad, finished) and The Fool (Percabeth, mystery, on-going) :3