#the waiter keeps suggesting dessert they can split

[nakedmonkey]

because it’s one of my favorite things and because they would be so fucking uncomfortable: Sadie and Katherine accidentally go on a date

[celestial-kit]

When He Sees Me

Pairing: Kirishima x f!reader

Warning: NSFW, Minors DNI, Oral (Male and Female Receiving), Penetration, Just general sex I guess

As a waitress in a diner, it wasn’t uncommon to have regular patrons. You often saw a group of nurses come in for mimosas and pancakes after finishing a night shift, a pair of retired old men who set up a small, mobile tv to watch old movies while slowly eating their lunch, and a gaggle of grumpy middle aged women who always tip you with spare change and life advice. One regular that you always look forward to seeing is Pro-Hero Red Riot. He started coming by the diner a few months ago, looking for a quick meal after finishing a long patrol and, even though you could tell he was tired, he greeted you with a big, toothy grin and introduced himself as Kirishima.

Since that first night, he started regularly eating dinner at the diner every Monday, always sitting at the same table in the back of the restaurant and always looking so happy to see you. He took the time to ask how you were doing, he was patient and kind when you were having a particularly busy shift, and he always tipped very well. He was, undoubtedly, your favorite customer.

This Monday, you were surprised to see that Kirishima wasn’t alone when he walked into the diner. Standing next to him was Pro-Hero Dynamight, wearing his signature scowl as he looked at you with annoyance. You had to admit, you were a little frightened to see him in person. He was rather intimidating and it was a stark contrast to Kirishima’s disarming nature. 

Kirishima saw you freeze as his best friend gave you a death glare. He rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned down and gave you a sympathetic smile, “Don’t mind him, he gets hangry. Can we have my normal table?” 

“Sure!” You squeak nervously. You grab two menus for the large men and quickly walk them back to their table. After they’ve taken their seats, you whip out your notepad and pen. “Can I start you with something to drink?” 

Kirishima gives you a smile as he looks up into your eyes. “I’ll just have water. How’s your night been?” 

You can feel your cheeks warming up at his attention. He was always so genuine when he spoke to you, with his head resting on his fist and looking at you like you’re the only person in the room. You meet his eye contact and tuck some hair behind your ear as you reply. “It’s been good. A little slow, but that just means I have more time to read between tables.”

His eyebrows rise at that. “Oh? What are you reading?” You open your mouth to respond, but you’re interrupted by a cough next to you. You turn your head and see Dynamight with his arms crossed and his death glare now focused on Kirishima. You quickly realize that you never took his drink order. 

“I’m so sorry! What can I get you to drink?” You respond hastily. Without looking at you, he grumbled a low “Water” and you left to get their drinks. As you came back, you could see them both leaning over the table and whispering about something.

“Just tell her, idiot,” Dynamight whispered loudly to Kirishima as you set their water on the table. 

“Tell me what?” You ask, innocently looking at Kirishima. His face went almost as red as his hair as he waved his hands in front of him. 

“Nothing! Don’t worry about it,” he laughed as he looked pointedly at his blonde friend. Dynamite groaned at this, clearly annoyed with this interaction.

“If you don’t tell her, I will. I’m sick of you talking about it all the time,” he crossed his arms again and looked at Kirishima with an eyebrow raised, daring him to take on his challenge. Kirishima looked horrified for a split second before he looked at you and ultimately looked away, a soft blush painting his cheeks as he started to speak.

“I have a little crush on you,” he admits, making Dynamight snort. Kirishima frowned at his friend before he continued, “Ok, it’s not little. I think you’re beautiful and you’re all I can think about. Can I take you out sometime?” He finally looked up at you, hopeful and nervous after his confession. You stared at him with your mouth agape as your face started burning up. You were shocked that he felt this way, but you weren’t displeased. You always thought that Kirishima was handsome and you loved the brief amount of time you got to spend with him each Monday. 

As you tried to wrap your mind around the situation, you could see Kirishima’s face fall. You realize that it had been a minute and you still hadn’t responded to his question. “Yes! Of course, I’d love to! Are you free Friday?” 

Kirishima’s face brightens at this, excitedly saying, “Really? Yeah, let’s do Friday!” He stands up with a big grin on his face, raising his hand to high-five his friend, and starts to walk out of the diner, with Dynamight following closely behind. You gawk at them as they push the door open to walk out onto the sidewalk. 

“Wait! Aren’t you forgetting something?” You giggle as the redhead turns around, looking as if he had an epiphany and starts walking back to where you're rooted at his table.

“Oh, yeah,” he laughs sheepishly as he pulls out a large bill from his wallet and places it on the table, presumably to pay for the water that neither of them drank. 

You blink before you push the bill back into his hand and say, “No, don’t you need my phone number?” 

Kirishima blinks back at you and nods, pulling his phone from his pocket and handing it to you as a fresh blush paints his cheeks. You giggle again as you input your number, acutely aware of Kirishima staring over your shoulder, his large frame invading your space. You hand his phone back to him with a dizzy smile, his hand brushing yours as he takes it from you. 

Kirishima meets your eyes and flashes you another smile, “I’ll text you!” And then he was out the door, meeting up with his scowling friend and walking away from the diner.

_

Kirishima did, in fact, text you. During the days leading up to your date, you spent every spare moment you could texting each other, updating each other throughout the day of what you were doing and texting late into the night, getting to know each other. You also swapped photos back and forth, nothing raunchy, just little snapshots of your day. You would send photos of you curled up with your cat, cooking dinner, drinking wine. He would send photos of himself at the gym, walking with Dynamight, and showing himself looking bored as he filled out paperwork. 

One picture in particular had your mouth going dry and your stomach doing flips. Around midday on Wednesday he sent you a picture of him sitting on top of a criminal, pinning him to the ground with one hand on the back of his head, the selfie taken at an angle above Kirishima’s head and showed off the sweat stuck to his brow as he grinned proudly at the camera. You zoomed in on the picture, admiring his pectoral muscles and chiseled abs, imagining how it might feel to have him pin you down like that. You texted back a simple “Be careful!” before rushing to the restroom in the diner to splash cold water on your face. 

When Friday came, you were eager to see Kirishima. It had been a while since you had been on a date, so you took your time getting ready, sipping on a chilled glass of wine to calm your nerves. The restaurant you agreed to meet at was close to your apartment, so you knew you could walk there and didn’t need to worry about driving. When you arrived, you could see Kirishima already at a table, wearing a simple white button down tucked into black slacks. A few buttons were undone at the top of his shirt, showing off his pecs and some of the black hair that littered his chest.

When he saw you walking up, he broke out in a massive grin, standing up and wrapping you in a warm hug, landing a quick kiss on your cheek. He pulled away, still grinning, to pull out your chair for you to sit down. Your cheeks were burning red from the affection as you sat down and said, “Thank you.”

Kirishima sat across from you and took the time to look you up and down as you started perusing the menu. His gaze swept across the gentle features of your face, admiring the curve of your lips which was accentuated with your lipgloss, and continued to move his gaze down past your exposed neck to land on your cleavage. Your dress loosely fits your curves, and he can’t help but stare. 

The rest of your evening seemed like a blur, you and Kirishima falling into a rhythm of talking, laughing, and drinking. Together you share a bottle of wine, various appetizers, and, at one point, shots of tequila. You were feeling warm and giggly from the booze and the company, it felt nice. Under the table, Kirishima had kicked out his long legs and intertwined them with yours, playing footsie as he looked at you dreamily. The waiter eventually interrupts you to ask if you would like dessert. You and Kirishima share a look before he declines the waiter's offer. As Kirishima pays the bill, you reach across the table to graze your fingers over his knuckles, gently asking, “Want to have dessert at my place?” 

Kirishima’s hungry, red eyes meet yours at your suggestion and he simply nods before throwing some money on the bill and grabbing your hand to pull you out of the restaurant. You lead the way down the street, walking swiftly with Kirishima’s hand on your back, keeping you close. When you get into your apartment elevator, Kirishima doesn’t hesitate to grab your face and crash his lips to yours. It feels as if the events of the week have been leading up to this moment, and the release of tension between the two of you has you moaning into his lips. 

The elevator ride is short, and you’re pulling away from him before you really want to to lead you both to your apartment door. You fumble with your keys as Kirishima holds onto your hips, pressing his chest to your back and laying soft, wet kisses to your neck. When your door finally swings open, Kirishima is quick to turn you around, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you as close as he can while he bullies his tongue into your mouth. He blindly kicks your door shut and starts walking you backwards into your apartment, practically lifting you off the ground to keep your mouth glued to his. When he pulls back for air, he can’t help but groan when he sees your disheveled state. You hair is a mess from his hands wandering in it in the elevator, you dress is pulled down dangerously low, exposing more of your cleavage with one strap falling off your shoulder, and your bruised lips are agape as you look at him with glassy eyes.

“You know, I think I changed my mind. I do want dessert,” he states simply before lifting you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and walking through your apartment, searching for your bedroom. You take this opportunity to attack his neck, doing your best to leave your mark on him while your hands fist in his hair. 

Before you can do too much damage, you are dropped unceremoniously on your bed, startling your cat who was sleeping peacefully on your pillow. “Sorry buddy,” Kirishima mumbles without looking at the animal, too focused on running his hot hands up your thighs and under your dress. He wraps his strong fingers around the edges of your underwear, pushing his thumb into the fabric at your crotch and feeling how you’re already soaking through your underwear and wetting his thumb. He brings his hand back to examine the glistening digit briefly before sticking it in his mouth and sucking your essence off it, his eyes meeting yours as you gasp his name. 

He frowns at the use of his surname. “Call me Eijiro,” he says gruffly.

His tone and intense stare warm you up, turning your cheeks red and filling your stomach with butterflies. “Eijiro,” you moan, as he goes back to rubbing you through your underwear. 

“Good girl,” he smirks at you. Then you hear a ripping noise and you realize that your underwear is now just a limp piece of fabric being tossed behind Kirishima’s shoulder.

“Eijiro!” You exclaim, shocked that your favorite pair of panties are completely destroyed.  Kirishima just laughs at you.

“Don’t worry, precious. I’ll buy you a new pair.” Then he was leaning in and swiping his tongue across your wet heat, making you gasp at the contact. He uses his big hands to push your dress up past your hips and bury his tongue inside your pussy, thrusting in and out and drinking your essence as you moan his name and grab fistfuls of his hair. 

His hot tongue works its way up to your clit, circling it as he moans against you, before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. He brings one hand down from your hips and slowly works a finger inside you while you hiss at the stretch. His hands are so big, like everything else about him, and if you weren’t so wet then the intrusion might have hurt. He starts working this finger inside you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace and curling to hit that spongy spot inside you each time. His attention on your clit persists, making you whimper, and soon you can hear the loud squelching noises of his finger moving inside you while you sucks and licks at your clit. 

When he pushes a second finger in, you let out a loud moan, throwing your head back and doing your best to buck your hips up to meet his thrusts. He groans against you and uses his one hand on your hip to halt your movements, holding you in place while he starts pistoning his fingers into you. You feel tears beading at your eyes as you start heading towards a familiar cliff.

“Oh god, Eijiro!” you gasp as you near your peak.

Kirishima pulls back briefly, “Cum for me, honey. You can do it. Cum on my fingers.” His fingers don’t relent and his mouth goes back to abusing your clit as you let out a pitiful sob, gushing around his fingers and clamping down on him. He works you through your orgasm, your quiet cries spurring him on as he continues to slowly push his fingers into you. 

Eventually, he pulls away, kissing up your body and dragging your dress with him until it is over your head and on the floor. He leans down to place a kiss on your lips while he grabs your breasts and flicks your hardening nipples with his thumbs. You moan when you taste yourself on his tongue and then your pushing at his shoulders so that he’s hovering over you. Before he can say anything, you grab at the edges of his shirt and pull to try to pop the buttons off his shirt. It doesn’t work, so you try again, but still fail. 

You pout at his indestructible shirt and he laughs at you again. Then, he sits up and grabs the edges where you had and rips the buttons open himself. You gasp as he shucks the ruined material from his shoulders with a cocky smirk and you reach up to run your hands over his newly exposed chest, admiring the way black hair is scattered across his chest and leads down his abs to below his belt. Your mouth starts to water at the idea of what his pants might be hiding, so you sit up with him to start laying kissing on chest and stomach while your hands work his belt open. 

When he’s finally free from his confines, you can’t help but gasp at his size, your eyes widening as you take him in. 

He’s thick and long, the weight of him causing his length to fall despite him being fully hard. The black hair that you admired on his torso is neatly trimmed around the base of his cock, which sits directly atop his full, round balls. You clench your thighs together at the idea of him filling you up. Part of you doesn’t think he’ll fit, but another, more excited, part of you is eager to try.

You tentatively wrap a hand around the base of his cock, looking up at him through your tear stained lashes for approval. His hand reaches down to fist your hair, nodding and pulling your face closer to him. You bring your other hand up to wrap around him as well and you poke your tongue out to give him kitten licks around his head. He groans and tightens his hand in your hair, thrusting his hips a little, wiping his head and smearing precum along your cheek. You sit up on your knees for better leverage and bend down to wrap your lips around his head, feeling his fist tighten again as he starts dragging your mouth along his cock. 

Kirishima knows he’s big, he doesn’t want to hurt you, so he’s gentle as he fucks your face. When he starts hitting the back of your throat and tears start spilling down your cheeks, his other hand comes up and he uses his thumbs to wipe them from your face and cradle your cheek, feeling the way his length fills your cheeks. 

His moans are loud, he wants you to know how good you’re making him feel. He tells you things like You’re doing so good, baby and You’re taking my cock so well. When his moans get louder, you think he’s going to cum, so you twist one hand at the base of him and use your other hand to hold and squeeze his balls. Right when you expect him to finish down your throat, he’s using your hair to pull you back, looking down at your tear stained face while his chest heaves up and down from the effort of holding off his orgasm.

“Don’t want to cum yet. I wanna fuck you,” he says, pushing your shoulders until your back hits the bed. You nod your head like a woman possessed while he kicks his pants off and pulls a condom out of his pocket. You want to tell him not to worry about it, you’re on birth control, but you understand that as a Pro-Hero he may want to take certain precautions. Next time you think to yourself as he rolls the latex down his length and lines himself up with your leaking hole. 

When he pushes in, you gasp at the burn of it, and new tears start rolling down your cheeks as he continues to push his monster length inside you. Kirishima knows it probably hurts, but he ignores your weak cries of Wait, you’re too big because he knows that the best way for the pain to stop is to just push through it. When he’s fully seated inside you, he just sits there, leaning down to kiss the tears from your face as you sob weakly. You want him to fuck you, but the stretch of him is making you clamp down so hard that he’s unable to move from his spot inside you.

“Relax, baby. You gotta stop clenching,” Kirishima says through gritted teeth. He looks as if he’s in pain, too.

“I can’t,” you say. “You’re too big, Eiji. I can’t do it.” You let out another broken sob, wishing your body would listen to what you wanted. Kirishima didn’t say anything, he just leaned down to kiss you, shoving his tongue in your mouth again and making out with you to distract you from the pressure of his length inside you. His lips moving against yours have you warming up again, and you can feel yourself flutter around his length, your wetness giving him enough lubricant to slowly pull out and push back in at a shallow pace. 

When you start moaning at this action, Kirishima takes this as a cue that you’re feeling good, you want more. He leans back from kissing you and grabs the backs of your thighs, pushing your legs up and close to your chest, and starts fucking you faster and harder. You cry out at the new angle, watching him as he watches his cock disappear inside of you, his mouth hanging open as he releases long, loud moans. When he looks at your face, he smirks.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” He asks, continuing his brutal pace. You nod your head, holding his eye contact and reaching up to play with your breasts, tugging on your nipples and moaning out his name. He grunts at your display, pushing himself harder into you and reaching down to swipe fast circles around your clit. 

You can feel that coil tightening again in your stomach, nearing your second orgasm of the night as Kirishima’s hips increase in speed. You start to feel delirious from the pleasure, drooling and babbling about how good he feels, how he’s so big, how you’re so close to cumming again.

“Yeah, baby? You want to cum again?” Kirishima asks lowly, trying to contain himself as you writhe beneath him.

“Yes, yes! Please Eijiro, I want to cum!” Your head is thrown back and you know you won’t last as the head of his cock hits your g-spot over and over and over.

“Cum for me, angel. Cum on my cock, I want to feel you.” Kirishima encourages you, and you listen to him. You arch your back and let out a wail you didn’t know you were capable of as you cum all over his cock, clamping down on him again and holding him in place as he groans at your tight walls. As you’re coming down from your high, Kirishima pushes your legs closer to your chest and fucks you faster and harder than he had all night, chasing his own high. You gasp and watch him as he grunts and groans and moans your name unashamedly, drowning in pleasure. 

You moan at the feeling of him dragging inside your wet walls, and you tell him how bad you want him to cum. You tell him you wish he could cum inside you, you want him to fill you up until your dripping cum. It’s too much for Kirishima as he hastily pulls out with a loud groan, ripping the condom off his fat cock and fisting himself until he’s cumming all over your breasts and stomach. 

You gaze up at the man above you, his head thrown back as he tries to catch his breath, his length softening in his hand, and you think that he’s beautiful. He looks down at you, sees you covered in his seed, and gives you a shy smile. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

You giggle a little, “It’s ok, I like it.” You smile up at him and rub your hand through his cum on your stomach. He groans again and then leans down to give you a long, wet kiss before leaving the bed to look for a towel. After cleaning up, it doesn’t take long before you’re climbing under the covers, cuddling against Kirishima’s chest as his soft snores lull you to sleep. 

[ketamineharry]

I Love Me - Harry Lewis

Requested - Yes ~ can I request an ethan/Harry one where the reader is curvy (bigger boobs/bum/hips etc) compared to Talia + Freya and the other girlfriends and they are on holiday with everyone and the reader feels a bit insecure and scared of what everyone will think when they look at photos, have photo shoots and insta comments, love you and your writing!! 🤍

Trigger Warnings: Body image issues, self-confidence issues

Authors Note: This was originally requested as a holiday, but I changed it slightly as my most recent imagine was a holiday themed one. I hope you don’t mind!

As you entered the restaurant, an uneasy feeling took over you. Usually, being seen out in public with your friends, and your boyfriend Harry wouldn’t phase you — but over lockdown, you had put on a few pounds. Expressing your emotions in a healthy way, had never been your forte so when the lockdown restrictions hit, instead of going to the local pub to drink your sorrows away, with a group of friends you had turned to eating. Comfort eating had become the norm whenever you felt sad, lonely, happy, or to put it more accurately whenever you felt anything.

While you had been piling on the pounds, Talia and Freya, had been keeping to a strict fitness regime. So naturally, they looked incredible. While you just felt deflated. To make matters worse, this was a Sidemen dinner, meaning that not only were there going to be pictures, but eyes were going to be firmly on your table.

Instinctively, as you walked you grabbed for Harry’s hand. Thankfully, he was slightly in front of you, so you could hide yourself behind his broad frame. As soon as your fingers entwined, you found a sense of serenity; despite how short lived that may have been.

As the others crowded around the table, trying to figure out seating arrangements, you focussed your energy in trying to remain calm. All you wanted was to have a seat on the outskirts, so that you wouldn’t have to participate in the group Instagram photos. The self-loathing from the way you looked in this moment was enough to fuel your insecurities for a good few months, you certainly didn’t need the constant reminder on Instagram too.

Luckily, you managed to secure the seat you wanted. Josh, being the father of the group dictated where everyone else was going to sit. Usually, there was a rule of thumb that you sat in couples; but you had ended up sitting in between JJ and Freya. Harry was on the opposite side of the table, his phone in one hand, completely engrossed in an app, knowing him it was most likely Twitter. However, in this seating arrangement you felt sick. Your one lifeline, although not ridiculously far from you, had been cut off. You were going to have to brave this one out.

The waiter approached the table and introduced themselves. He had a cheery disposition until they made eye contact with you, their fake customer service smile fading as he served you his best judgemental glare. It lasted a split second, but you knew what it meant. The feeling of being out of your depth was confirmed in that look, it wasn’t just you that felt it, it was felt by those looking in on this dynamic of people. Why would they want to associate themselves with you?

“And for the lady?” He asked, glancing over at you again. His demeanour changed once more. You remained silent for a moment, mulling over whether to ask for what you actually wanted or order something that you didn’t want to avoid more disapproving glares.

“May I suggest the chicken caesar salad.” He adds, knocking you out of your stream of consciousness.

“That would be lovely thank you.” You respond. The last thing that you wanted was to cause a scene. In fact, the thing you wanted most was to be ignored, unseen. It was blatantly obvious what everyone was thinking, where their stares ended up… all on you.

The plates of food started to arrive, being placed before everyone. You looked around, envious. Their food all looked insanely good, Talia had mac and cheese while Freya had a vegetarian lasagne. To say that you were covetous, as you chowed down on some lettuce, was an understatement. Just some flavour would have been nice.

The same waiter came back to see if anyone wanted any desserts, Harry ordered a chocolate cake with some whipped cream and Freya ordered a cheesecake, Ethan wanted a coffee, the others weren’t really bothered though. What was made apparent, was that you weren’t even asked by the waiter.

Freya turned to you, a sympathetic look on her face. “Are you ok?” She asked, as she placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You mumbled unconvincingly, certain that Freya could pick up on how you were feeling. She had been sitting next to you the entire time after all.

“Let’s go to the ladies yeah? I’ll just text Josh to let him know what’s going on.” She said, as she retrieved her phone from her bag. She quickly sent the text before she grabbed your hand and directed you to the bathroom.

Freya held the door open for you, as you both walked inside, she went over to the sinks and climbed up on top of them. Crossing her arms. Inspecting you slightly.

“So, spill… what’s wrong with ya?” She questioned, with a small reassuring smile.

You took a deep breath in and out, as you tried to steady yourself. As much as you loved Freya, talking about your feelings to anyone was a challenge that you faced daily. It was hard enough being open with Harry about your feelings, and he was the person that you trusted most. Never mind one of your closest friends.

“I hate the way I look.” You confessed, as you subconsciously started to tug at the dress you were wearing. It all of a sudden felt too tight, too claustrophobic, as if the material had shrunk from the time it took you to walk from your table into the bathroom.

“You and Talia, you are both gorgeous and slim. I’m not that way at all. You can wear whatever you want and look good. If I so much as looked at a belly top, people would be disgusted.”

Freya remained silent, letting you ramble on about how much you hated your body and what you looked like. How out of place you felt and what you wish you could change about yourself. When you were finally finished, she jumped down off of the counter and engulfed you in a hug.

“Don’t you ever, ever feel like you aren’t good enough. You are the funniest person I have ever met. You make me belly laugh every single day. You spread so much positivity, and you make sure that everyone around you feels loved. I am slim, but do you know what… I’d kill for a rack like yours.” She whispered, as she comforted you.

“As for that asshole waiter who has been making you feel like shit all night, don’t think that no-one else has noticed it, because they have. They’re all too polite to embarrass him in public, but trust me, he’ll get his comeuppance. Now, wipe those tears and let’s go show him what a fucking bad ass bitch you are.” She laughed, as she grabbed your hand once again, as she led you back out to the table.

The bill was laid out on the table, the seven cards were placed on top of it as you rejoined the group.

“Here she is.” Harry beamed, as he reached out for you. You went and gave him a hug, before taking your seat again.

As the waiter collected the bill, Harry called him over. “I’d like to give you a cash tip, can you follow me outside so I can draw the cash out?” He asked. The waiter nodded, a gleam in his eye. Harry gave you a gesture, letting you know to follow him.

Once you were outside, how cold it was finally hit you. It made you recoil into yourself.

“Yeah, the tip I wanted to give you was to never, and I mean never try to ridicule my girlfriend about anything.” Harry said, swiftly connecting his right fist to the waiters cheek.

“Run.” He shouted, as he grabbed your hand, your feet pounding on the floor until you reached the car. You were both panting, leaning on each other for support.

“You do know you’re still a ten out of ten to me. No matter what.” Harry smiled, as he placed a kiss to the top of your head. “Now let’s go and get a McDonalds, because I know you’re still hungry and it’s your favourite.”

[alliedbiscuit]

msr fic / s7 post-closure but pre-all things / wc: 3398

Scully takes Maggie out for a birthday dinner, and you'll never guess who they run into.

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

“So, how are feeling about dessert?” the waiter asks hopefully.

Maggie Scully scoffs. “Oh, no. I couldn’t eat another bite. Maybe just a cup of coffee? Decaf, please.”

“Mom, are you sure? You should get dessert,” Dana Scully prods, stopping herself short before she could let it slip, “It’s your birthday!” The last gift her mother would appreciate is a gaggle of underpaid waiters singing some public-domain-compliant version of a birthday song while the whole restaurant turns its attention toward her. Like mother, like daughter.

Well, the daughter made an exception and found that kind of thing charming exactly once. But at least she got a nice keychain out of it. All her mother would get was humiliation and a chocolate lava cake.

As soon as the waiter leaves to fetch their after dinner coffees, Maggie reveals her true intentions.

“I was thinking we could go to that ice cream parlor down the street. If I’m going to indulge, I think I want a hot fudge sundae. Or maybe we could split a banana split?”

“Or you could get a hot fudge sundae and I could get a banana split, and we could split both,” Scully suggests.

“See, that’s why you work for the FBI.”

“Dessert Conflict Resolution was part of my training at Quantico.”

Both Scullys giggle.

“Does Fox have the same specialty? Or is that what you bring to the team?”

“Mulder’s dessert strategy is just to eat everything and then swim a mile and run five the next day. No, he’s a Takeout Menu Marksman, though. He knows where to order from and what to order so it travels the best and doesn’t get cold and congealed by the time it arrives. Might sound like a trivial skill, but it’s a lifesaver on movie night.”

Maggie continues smiling but cocks her head slightly. Dana realizes why almost instantly.

“You have movie night?”

“It’s not a set thing or anything. We just…if we’re not busy with a case.”

“You just watch movies? As coworkers?”

“As friends.”

“Just friends?”

Dana lets out a long sigh as she stares her mother down. Her mother, maintaining that gentle yet challenging grin. Dana considers her response carefully. She could offer a simple yes because that is the fact of the matter. They are just friends. She could criticize the wording choice. “Just” friends? Why does it have to be “just” friends? As if friendship isn’t somehow enough or isn’t valuable?

She could realize it’s her mother’s birthday and she’s the only other Scully woman left to confide in about matters of the heart, and although she doesn’t want to bring up the New Year’s kiss because she still doesn’t really know what it meant, maybe they both need this little gift of honesty, filled with tempered excitement and promise.

“For now,” Dana Scully finally admits.

Maggie’s grin grows as Scully just shakes her head and manages to keep her slight eye roll from reaching embarrassed teenager level. The waiter does bail her out a bit by choosing that moment to deliver their coffees.

“How is Fox doing? After his mother…” Maggie trails off, but her daughter knows not to expect any more specifics.

“Better? I mean, as well as can be expected. The thing is, right after that, he found out some more about his sister. About what happened to her. It was just so much all at once. I was really worried…”

Maggie reaches across the table to lay a hand on hers.

“But, it was almost like he was ready for it. He finally had some answers. Like it brought him some peace.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah. He needed that.”

“We all do.”

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

Maggie is the one to spot him first as they’re heading for the door.

“Is that- is that Fox?” she asks her daughter.

“What? No, he wouldn't…” Dana trails off as she looks straight ahead to where her mother was indicating and confirms that it is indeed Fox Mulder, standing with his hands in his pockets and his eyes trained to the floor as he appears to be waiting near the vestibule for the restrooms.

“Mulder?” Scully questions as she approaches, her voice giving away her confusion and growing concern.

His head darts up in surprise, but a beaming smile of recognition quickly overtakes his face.

“Hey, Scully! Mrs. Scully, it’s so nice to see you!”

“You too, Fox,” Maggie kindly replies, although a quick glance to her daughter confirms her suspicion that Dana is still very confused by his presence.

“Did you…did you need something?” She suddenly feels silly for presuming that he must have come there with urgent news or a case or something, but why else would Fox Mulder be at Petrino’s on a Saturday night? Did his informants trade in clandestine meetings in parking garages for family-style Italian?

“Hmm?” Mulder asks.

“You didn’t come here to find me? I told you I was bringing my mom here for her birthday, didn’t I?” He didn’t look like he had rushed to the restaurant from the office or his apartment as she had originally assumed. He had clearly shaved and combed his hair nicely. He wore an olive green sweater with dark blue jeans and a black wool pea coat rather than his leather jacket. He had definitely made an effort.

“You did, but I thought you were going out tomorrow night on her actual birthday. Happy birthday, by the way, Mrs. Scully.”

“Thank you, Fox. I’m going to have lunch with some ladies from church after mass tomorrow, so I asked Dana if we could do Saturday night instead.”

“Ah. What a weird coincidence then. I can’t believe we didn’t see you at all during dinner.”

We.

Oh God.

Mulder was on a date.

Mulder was on a date in this restaurant on the night he thought Scully wasn’t going to be there. Mulder was on a date right after Scully had confessed to her mother (and herself) that their “just friends” status was in the process of changing. Mulder was on a date right after he’d been through so much pain but seemed to come out lighter and more open and he wanted to share it with someone…who wasn’t Dana Scully.

“So, you’ve already eaten then?” Maggie asks since her daughter appears unable to form a coherent statement at the moment.

“Yeah, we just finished. I’m just waiting for her…” he seems to trail off just to motion towards the restroom rather than say anything indelicate, but then he notices Maggie’s poorly masked look of concern toward Dana, and then he notices Dana’s completely unmasked look of shock.

And then he gets it.

“Oh, no! It’s not…I want you to meet her,” Mulder insists as he grabs a hold of both of Scully’s elbows and then glances anxiously toward the restroom door.

Dana Scully looks like she might be ill.

Thankfully Mulder only stammers a moment longer until the restroom door opens and he finds reprieve when a tall, thin woman appearing to be in her mid-60s walks through the door.

“Aunt Helen,” Mulder calls.

Somehow Scully’s eyes manage to get even wider as some of the color returns to her face.

“Aunt Helen, there are a few people I’d really like you to meet. This is my partner, Dana Scully, and this is her mother, Margaret Scully.”

Aunt Helen smiles widely in recognition, first shaking Maggie’s hand and then Dana’s. “It is such a pleasure to meet you both. I’ve heard such wonderful things.”

She lingers with her hand holding Dana’s while she says this, and the younger Scully is left blushing. She hazards a look at Mulder, but he doesn’t look embarrassed by this revelation. He holds her gaze with nothing but pride.

“This is my aunt, Helen Briggs. She’s my mom’s sister. She’s visiting for the weekend from Charlotte.”

They all kind of marvel over the fact that they were in the same restaurant and what a coincidence and oh, we were seated near the back bar, that must be why we didn’t see you and Scully is just starting to feel her pulse return to normal as Aunt Helen laments not having a chance to talk with the Scullys.

“Well, Dana and I skipped dessert so we could go to The Big Dipper for some ice cream. Would you two like to join us?”

“Oh, that would be lovely. As long as we’re not intruding,” says Aunt Helen.

“Not at all,” Scully assures her. “There is one catch, though.”

“It’s not real ice cream. It’s that Tofutti nonsense, isn’t it?” Mulder groans.

“It better not be,” Maggie insists. “I don’t know how she eats that stuff.”

Scully ignores her mother and her partner’s bad mouthing of her frozen treats as she returns her attention to Aunt Helen.

“I’m afraid if you want to come along, you will have to reveal a few good Young Mulder stories. And by ‘a few,’ I mean as many as you’ve got. And by ‘good,’ I mean the more embarrassing the better.”

“I’ll start thinking now,” Aunt Helen laughs.

“I knew I should’ve picked a different restaurant,” Mulder says regretfully.

***********

They’ve just sat down to a small, round table for four with their ice cream when Mulder stands up to get them all more napkins, and Aunt Helen retrieves a small, rectangular piece of paper from her purse that she then deftly slides to Dana.

“Oh my god!” Scully exclaims with joy.

Staring back at her from the paper is a very young Fox Mulder. She guesses he must be around 8 or 9 in the school photo. His long, sandy brown hair falls just above his eyebrows. He doesn’t have his distinctive nose yet, but his bottom lip is already a little pouty. The real give away is the eyes. He’s grinning for the camera, but his eyes still have that soulfulness, that slight sadness.

She’s surprised. She knows she shouldn’t be. His eyes didn’t suddenly change when Samantha was taken. His eyes were probably always like that.

But she had always assumed that the great tragedy had flipped a switch for Young Fox Mulder. That before that single event, he had certainly been a perfectly happy child. Funny and athletic, popular for sure. But the humor developed as a defense mechanism later in life. And the sports were a great physical release as well as an excuse to be out of the house as much as possible. She didn’t actually know what he was like before, but now that she thought about it, home life was probably never all that great if it eventually led to a father sacrificing one child and leaving the other to always live with the guilt and loss.

It was very possible that Fox Mulder had always been a little boy with a lot on his mind.

In contrast, present day, adult Fox Mulder looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world as he returns with extra napkins, ready to tuck into his chocolate peanut butter ice cream in a waffle cone – that is until he realizes what his friend and partner Dana Scully is looking at.

“Oh come on. I was gone for thirty seconds, and you have the visual aids out.”

Scully continues to beam as Maggie finally gets a glimpse of the photo in her hand.

“Oh, Fox!”

“Okay,” Mulder said exasperatedly. “Does this meet your embarrassment quota?” he asks, looking pointedly at Scully.

“Not even close! This isn’t embarrassing. It’s adorable!”

Mulder rolls his eyes but can’t hide his bashful grin at her comment.

“It’s only fair, Fox. I know you’ve seen family photos of Dana at my house,” Mrs. Scully says, sounding like a mother well practiced in settling disputes between children.

“Just a couple. I do like that high school graduation picture, though. I still don’t know how you kept your cap on with all that hair.”

“That was the style back then. Everybody teased their hair and used a ton of hairspray.”

“I thought it might be a religious thing at Catholic school. The higher the hair, the closer to God,” Mulder teases.

Maggie and Aunt Helen chuckle, though the latter gives him a good-natured swat on the arm in admonishment.

“See, this is what I need, though. I need something from the teen years. That’s peak embarrassment fodder,” Scully says.

“If you ask our colleagues, I think my peak embarrassment fodder would come from about 1991 to present,” Mulder points out.

Aunt Helen just looks slightly regretful. “I’m afraid I don’t have many stories from those years, Dana.”

Mulder makes eye contact with Aunt Helen. “You didn’t miss much,” he insists. She looks like she wants to debate him, but he just places a hand on hers reassuringly, and they seem to make a silent agreement to not argue the point any further.

Mulder had never really mentioned any other family before. She knew his grandparents had all passed before she met him, but she had assumed, just like with everything else, that any other extended family connections had disappeared along with Samantha. That no one would know how to comfort and console The Mulders in a situation like that, with no explanation.

His aunts and uncles must have had questions, probably even had their own theories. Did his mother’s side suspect his father’s involvement, or did his father’s side blame his mother somehow? Did any of them blame…no, she couldn’t go down that route. Besides, did anyone ever suspect horrific things like that before the days of cable news and supermarket tabloids?

The point is, it was a tense situation, so Scully assumed they had all done what wealthy white people in places like Martha’s Vineyard and Boston and Raleigh did with any uncomfortable subject – they avoided it completely.

And that meant avoiding the little boy with a lot on his mind as he became a teenager with even more on his mind.

Scully had accompanied Mulder to a small burial service for his mother in Raleigh a few months ago. It was just the service. No gathering or dinner after, or at least not one that Mulder told her about. The attendees at the service were all pretty spread out, not much mingling. Again, it was another sudden loss shrouded in mystery. They all avoided particulars as much as they could.

Scully didn’t remember seeing Aunt Helen that day, but maybe she was there and just couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Maybe she wasn’t there because she couldn’t bring herself to go and then regretted it. Dana Scully didn’t know, and it didn’t actually matter. The point is that she’s here now. And that’s exactly what Mulder’s look of reassurance and acceptance seems to say.

It seems to help her perk up because she offers playfully, “Oh, what about that summer on Quonochontaug? I think you were 9 or so, and you were collecting leaves for one of your Indian Guide badges.”

“Oh god!”

“I’m hooked already. Not to jump ahead, but please tell me there’s poison ivy involved,” Scully says gleefully.

Aunt Helen’s bark of laughter and Mulder’s exaggerated eye roll are all the confirmation she needs.

“It was heavily involved! But that’s not the worst part. While he was working on his Leaf Collecting badge, he also earned credit towards his Wildlife badge when he came across a skunk in the woods.”

“No!” Scully shouts.

“Ivyed and skunked at the same time,” Mulder admits.

“Oh you poor thing,” Maggie adds sympathetically, but with barely contained laughter.

“He had to jump right from a tomato juice bath for the skunk smell…”

“Which didn’t work!”

“…into an oatmeal bath for the itching.”

“Which worked better, but I still smelled like a Grateful Dead concert.”

Both Scullys are full on giggling at this point.

“Do you remember what Grandpa Ralph said when he walked in and saw you and mom dunking me in a tub of oatmeal?” Mulder asks.

Aunt Helen pitches her voice deeper and amps up her Southern twang, “Why don’t cha dip him in some egg and flour next? We toss him in the frying pan, we got supper! We’re havin’ Fried Fox tonight!”

Now they’re all in hysterics. Even the man who usually hates his given name can’t help but laugh along, especially when it makes his lovely company so happy.

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

Scully enters the basement office Monday morning to find Mulder already there, flipping through an open drawer in the filing cabinet.

“Good morning,” she says cheerfully.

He looks up and smiles. “Good morning. Long time no see.”

“How was the rest of your weekend? Did you guys do any sightseeing or anything?”

“No, we just had a late breakfast yesterday before I took her to the airport, but it was good to catch up some more. She told me to thank you again for letting us tag along for ice cream. It was really nice.”

“It was,” Scully agrees.

Mulder appears to be considering something for a moment before he crosses over to the desk and picks up a small envelope.

“She also told me to give this to you,” he says almost bashfully, extending the envelope in Scully’s direction. “She told me I couldn’t look inside, and I didn’t. But I think I know what’s in there, and if I’m right, you don’t have to keep it. You can just leave it here on the desk.”

Well, now she’s intrigued. Scully opens the envelope to find a small handwritten note at the top.

“I thought you might like these. I have plenty more too, if you’d ever like to see them or want any more stories. Please don’t be a stranger.”

Scully lifts up the note to see the remaining contents inside and finds a small stack of photographs, a mixture of more school photos along with a few wallet-sized family portraits and a couple candids taken on the beaches of the Vineyard or Rhode Island, she can’t tell. But she sees the same set of eyes in all of them.

She looks back to read the rest of the note.

“I’m so glad I got to meet you, Dana. Take care!”

Below Aunt Helen’s elegant signature, she has also written her home address and phone number. Scully will have to call and thank her.

“She tried to give some to me,” Mulder explains, “but I didn’t really want…and like I said, you don’t have to…”

“No, I’d like to keep them,” Dana insists.

Mulder lets her statement hang in the air for a moment, but he can’t help but diffuse it.

“You just want more blackmail material.”

“Something like that,” Scully says teasingly, but there’s no bite behind it.

“I knew I should’ve picked a different restaurant.”

She chuckles lightly as she shuffles the photos into a neat stack to place back in the envelope, thinking that this is the point where they get back to work. Mulder stays standing in front of her and appears to be considering something again. Does he have another envelope that he’s afraid to give her?

“You know it was pure luck that we ended up at Petrino’s the same night as you. I actually gave Aunt Helen a few options and let her choose. I was pushing more for that Thai place in Arlington, just off Old Dominion. The one that’s been there forever,” Mulder explains.

“Oh, the one with the secret menu? I’ve still never been there. Can’t say I’m surprised that Aunt Helen wasn’t up for Thai food, though.”

“Yeah. Fair point,” Mulder nods for a moment too long before continuing. “Would you like to go there sometime? Like this Saturday? With me?”

Scully slowly looks up from the envelope to see Mulder’s face because in all matters, other than the divine, Dana Scully needs to see to believe. And the slightly nervous yet gentle grin that she finds allows her to believe it to be true – Fox Mulder has just asked her out on a real date.

“I would like that,” Scully says gently.

“Good. You wanna say 7:30? Or we can always figure out time later,” Mulder states, aiming for practicality to keep him from grinning like a complete idiot. He ends up grinning like a moderate idiot, but he’s okay with that.

“Sounds good.”

Yep, Scully will definitely have to call Aunt Helen and thank her.

[the-keeper-of-midnight]

Spicy ask incoming🔥

RO reactions to the MC's hand straying under the table where they are sitting and doing some hanky panky in a (semi)public space?👀

There's actually a scene in book 2 where MC is supposed to go on a diner date, Should I add a choice like that? 🤔

Link to a similar ask just in case, here.

Spicy 🌶🌶🌶answer under the cut 😅

A: would be all for it, now the funny part would be her trying to keep a straight face while MC provide her with such great pleasure.

*After a few minutes of MC's hand straying under the table.

A: MC... can you show me where the restrooms are? This restaurant is so big."

MC: "You've been to this restaurant so many times, Ash."

A: "Show me where the restrooms are, NOW!"

L: would let it happen, and starts to stammer at every question the waiter would ask.

Waiter: "We have a special on the menu today, and it's-"

L: "Oooohhhhh.... yes.... the special sounds sooooo goooodd!"

MC: *chuckling.

Waiter: "..."

L: "Hmmm... yes... that... that right there.... that's exactly what I want."

MC: 😅

Waiter: 😶 "I... I haven't even told you yet what the special is."

M: would never say no to such great fun... the most amazing thing is that he would totally keep his cool... or would he?

Waiter: "Have you two decided yet on what to order?"

M: *looking at MC with a half smile on his face knowing exactly what MC is doing under the table. "I have a feeling that my partner wants some meat today, don't you, MC?"

MC: 🤭

Waiter: Sure... we have a list of meat that we offer, there's chicken beef-"

M: *Stares straight into MC's eyes as his own eyes change color for a split second. "No... my partner wants sausage... a big juicy, and hot sausage."

Waiter: "I... I can see what we have in the kitchen-"

M: *Slumping backward in his chair, and finally look up at the waiter. "Can you give us a minute please. I need to discuss the menu with my partner."

*As soon as the waiter waltz away, M turns to MC.

"You better be ready to finish what you started. Is it going to be the restrooms or the spot outside by the tall bushes, decide now."

*K casually talking to the waiter as they feel MC's hand going to private places...

"I wanted to order the pasta-" *completely stop talking and start to stare in the distance.

Waiter: "The pasta? Which one? We have like 3 different type."

K: "I... oh..."

Waiter: "Oh, indeed. We have a variety of them just make your pick."

K:"I... it's... aaahhh."

Waiter: "I know... it can be difficult to choose. May I suggest the primavera?"

K: *eyes half open. "Hmm... g-good... g-great."

Waiter: "Yes, it's good and great. Our chef excels at making that dish."

K: *turns to look at MC, and mutters, "Someone might see..."

Waiter: *collects the menus from the table. "Oh yes, people should see it. It's a colorful and delicious dish, people will definitely stare."

*As soon as waiter waltz away. K to MC:

"We need to leave that waiter the biggest tips ever in history of tips."

Z: *smirks at MC while waiter is introducing the menu specials.

MC: "What? 🤭"

Z: *another smirks, "You're really hungry, tonight."

MC: *hand continues their path under the table.

Z: "You have two choices. You can continue what your doing and you'll end up being the main meal on the table or you can take off your hand and we save it for dessert later at home."

MC: 😶

Waiter: 👀

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: Worship You

ANON REQUEST

Pairing: Yoongi x plus size reader

Warnings: self-body shaming, insecurities mentioned, fluff, body worship, body praise, needy love making, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks).

Rating: 18 and over

 This was your third outfit change in a span of twenty minutes and your boyfriend of a year was due to be here any minute. You huffed at yourself in the mirror, yanking at your tummy before sucking it in. “Ok this is it!” You scold yourself. You tug at your blouse so that it meets your jeans and remind yourself not to lift your arms tonight. The doorbell rings and you yelp a bit, looking over your outfit again. “Please like it.” You whisper, spinning on your heel and making your way to the front door. You pull the door open and cover your mouth in shock at the sight of ten heart shaped balloons and an armful of flowers. “Happy Anniversary Beautiful!” You hear from behind the bouquets.

You stand in shock unable to speak. Your boyfriend soon shifts the items in his arms so he can peak over them. “Everything ok?” He asks strained. “Uh, Yes, oh my god! I'm so sorry, let me help you with this.” You grab a set of flowers from him, and he follows you inside. “This is too much! I don’t deserve all this.” “Why would you say that? You deserve this and so much more!” He smiles wide, exposing his gums. He releases the balloons randomly as he moves through your apartment. “There,” He says, pleased with his work, “Now wherever you go, you’ll see pieces of my love.” He turns to face you with his arms held wide. You give a faint smile, tugging at the hem of your shirt, and walk over to him. “You are the sweetest man I have ever met Min Yoongi.” “What can I say? I have the best reason to be sweet right here in my arms.” he replies, hugging you tightly. You feel your shirt riding up and you pull away quickly, “Uh, let’s head out. You don’t want to be late for dinner, do you?” “Hey,” He stops you, tugging on your arm and pulling you back towards him, “I love you. You look great.” You smile at his sweet comments, wondering why he was always so good to you. You stand on your tip toes and kiss his lips softly. “Thank you. I love you too. You look much better.” He chuckles and wraps his arm around your waist. You feel your face heat when his fingers dance along your exposed skin. “Don't.” You whine, removing his hand from your side. “Sorry, did I hurt you?” “No, it's fine. Come let’s go, I don’t want to miss our reservation.” You try to perk up, leading him towards the door.

You make it to the restaurant right on time and are seated quickly. “Wow, they really went all out with the candles and rose petals huh?” You mention to Yoongi who is just staring at you from across the table. “Do you like it?” He asks. You nod, looking around again, noticing that you are both towards the back, secluded from the other patrons. “I told them it was our one-year anniversary. I wanted it to be special, so I called ahead and had them go all out.” Your eyes pop open at his confession. “Yoongi! I’m speechless. This is so amazing. I feel like I should’ve dressed up now.” “You look beautiful jagi, just the way you are.” “That’s easy for you to say. You look good in everything.” He scoffs and reaches over to grab your hand across the table. “Hey! I’m serious. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. You don’t need to be dressed all fancy or in six-inch heels to look great.” “Let’s order, shall we.” You yank your hand back. Yoongi sighs but nods. You loved Yoongi so much and he always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better, but he had to say all these things right? He was, after all, your boyfriend. Did he truly mean it all or was he just looking to reach home plate? You see you and Yoongi had been together a year now and had never once had sex. Sure, you fooled around, made out here, blow job there, or even that one time he ate you out in the mirror house at a Halloween festival.

It wasn’t that you both didn’t want to have sex, it was that you were too afraid of what he might think of you with your clothes off so you avoided it if you could. Yoongi always called you beautiful or sexy but he’s never seen you fully nude. You always fooled around with your clothes on. In the past whenever you had sex with a boyfriend, they would complain about something. “Too Heavy” One guy told you during reverse cowgirl. Needless to say, you never saw him again. Still, it bothered you, hit a nerve, made you wonder. You were, however, grateful for Yoongi, he had never pushed or forced anything. He never shamed you for wanting to keep your shirt on but there was always that fear in the back of your mind that one day you would hit his breaking point. Would tonight, be it? “Hello, Earth to jagi, do you want to order an appetizer or just skip to the meal?” Yoongi snaps you back to reality, a smile plastered across his glorious face. “Uh, just the meal please.” “Sure, whatever you want my love.” He responds, waving the waiter over. “May I take your order?” “Ladies first, jagi.” “Uh, I’ll have a Caesar Salad, no croutons with shrimp please.” Yoongi eyes you suspiciously but smiles none the less. “And for you sir.” “I’ll have the same please.” The waitress nods, taking the menus. “Wait! What? Why? Order what you normally would get…steak or pork. Why are you getting a salad?” You question. “Why are you?” He counters. You scoff and shrug, looking down briefly at your tummy. “Besides this is better jagi. More room for dessert.” He says with a sly grin.

After 10 minutes of protest, you agree to split a dessert with Yoongi. “It’s our anniversary, we have to go all out.” He whines, sliding the dessert menu to you. You pick the brownie with vanilla ice cream and Yoongi happily enjoys it with you. “This was beautiful thank you.” “You’re welcome jagi. Anything to see you smile.” He leans in and plants a kiss on your mouth. “I have another surprise back at my place.” He whispers over your lips and it sends shivers through you. “Can I play with it?” You whisper back, kissing him again. “Hmm, maybe.” You both giggle into each other’s mouths, enjoying how the world fades away when it’s just the two of you together.

“Close your eyes.” Yoongi declares after unlocking his door. You do as your told, allowing him to take your hand and lead you into his apartment. After a few steps, he tells you to open your eyes. Your jaw falls open at the sight of rose petals strewn across the floor, the coffee table decorated with LED candles. A bottle of champagne chilling over ice, accompanied by chocolate covered strawberries. There are more heart shaped balloons around his living room, and a single red rose on the couch in a white box. “Min Yoongi. I could cry.” “Tears of joy I hope.” He pouts. “I don’t deserve this. I look terrible. I didn’t get you anything. I’m a horrible girlfriend. I mean what kind of girlfriend doesn’t even buy her boyfriend a card?” “Hey, hey,” He shushes, kissing your temple, “You’re the best gift I’ve ever received. Tonight, is all about you. Not me. I just want to make you feel special because you mean so much to me.” He leads you over to the couch to take a seat with him. He hands you the box with the single rose. You look it over. “It’s beautiful.” You tell him. “Like my jagi,” He smiles, “And the best part is, its artificial, so it’ll last forever. Like my love for you.” Your head pops up from the rose to meet Yoongi’s glittering eyes. “You’re not real.” You sniffle. Yoongi leans over and kisses you gently. “Come let’s toast jagi. Champagne?” He points with raised brows. “Sure.” You giggle, shifting in your seat to try and look your slimmest. He pops the bottle, pouring two glasses. “A toast jagi, to us, and to many more anniversaries together.” He taps his glass against yours. You both sip from your glasses and place them back on the coffee table.

Yoongi grabs a chocolate covered strawberry from its container and brings it to your lips. You take a bite, licking your lips of the juices. “Allow me.” He smiles, kissing you gently, sucking on your bottom lip. You find yourself moaning into the kiss, grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer. He grabs your waist, his fingers grasping at the soft flesh that sticks out above your jeans. He moves his hand upwards, over your tummy, massaging as he makes his way up to your breasts. You moan, pulling in your tummy as best you can. Soon he tugs at your blouse, trying to pull it up. You yank back, pushing him into the couch and straddling him, sure to not apply all your weight onto his lap. You take his mouth with yours again, biting and nipping at his pout, desperately trying to distract him from touching your body. It doesn’t work, his hands are at your waist again, digging his fingers into your exposed skin. You pull away from the kiss again and look at him. “Are you ok? Do you want to stop?” He asks, looking at you with concern. “I…. maybe we can go to the bedroom?” You suggest. He nods, allowing you to tug him by the hand to his room. You push him onto the bed and shut the light, straddling him carefully once more, your mouth back on his. You swirl your tongue on his, palming his growing erection.

“Jagi, I want you so bad. You feel so good.” He whispers against your lips. “I want you too.” You whisper. He moans at your words, gripping your hips hard and pulling you closer to his throbbing hard on. “Mm, no. I, lets, switch positions.” You suggest. “I want you to ride me jagi. I want to be buried deep inside you.” You moan, feeling yourself soak your panties. Yoongi kisses at your neck, running his hand quickly up your shirt and placing his hand on your back fat. “Don’t!” You shout, jumping off of Yoongi and sitting beside him on the bed. You cover your mouth, angry at your reaction. He flicks the light on and looks you over. “What’s wrong jagi? Please just tell me. Is it me? Do you not want me touching you? We can stop. We don’t have to do anything.” “Yes, I mean, no. I don’t mind it if it’s over my shirt. I just don’t want you looking at me ok! I don’t want you to be grossed out. I’m not what you’re used to. I’m not some supermodel. Do you have any idea how long it took me to even get ready for tonight?” You whimper, holding back tears. Yoongi sits quietly, staring off, rubbing his palms against his clothed thighs.

Your mind begins racing, he’s going to leave. The one guy you’re actually crazy about is going to break up with you. You’ve ruined everything! Suddenly, Yoongi looks over at you. “I think you’re beautiful jagi. I don’t want some supermodel. I just want you.” “Why? I’m fat. I have rolls. My thighs… I look terrible.” You trail off, covering your face, allowing tears to fall. He chuckles, standing before you, reaching out for your hands. “You’re not fat. Don’t ever say that about yourself.” He tugs you towards his full-length mirror. “Yoongi, please, I don’t want to look at myself.” You attempt to protest when he stands you before it, his body flush against your backside. He rests his chin on your shoulder. He begins to whisper in your ear softly, “Just indulge me jagi.” You look up into the mirror and catch his gaze. “I love the way you part your hair, how it frames your gorgeous face. The smell, man I love that smell. It’s like sunshine and air all in one.” He breathes you in with shut eyes.

“Your eyes are the most attractive eyes I think one human vessel could ever have. They are so deep yet reflective. When I look into your eyes, I see all the complex beauty the world has to offer reflected onto me and I’m so honored.” He takes a moment to catch your eyes with his, staring at you deeply through the mirror. You feel your body heat. He soon lifts his hands and tucks your hair behind your ear, turning your head slightly. “You have the most amazing face. The way your jaw falls in perfect alignment with the rest of your features.” He plants a soft kiss on your ear. “And your neck,” He runs a finger down your neck, “soft, inviting, the way it becomes so profound with every breath you intake.” He lowers his head and plants a wet kiss on your neck. You swallow hard, a small moan escaping your lips.

He wraps his arms around your waist next, pulling you into his body. You want to protest when you feel his hand slide up your abdomen but the warmth of his skin on yours is too intoxicating. “Your skin,” He almost moans, “so soft. Even the little that you’ve allowed me to feel or kiss has been like heaven. It’s only made me crave more, wondering what being wrapped up naked with you would feel like. The warmth we could create.” The thought sends lustful shivers down your spine. “May I take this off.” He whispers, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You nod, swallowing back your apprehension as he pulls your shirt up over your head. You stand before him in your bra and watch as he removes his shirt also, his pale skin on display for you. He moves forward and presses his chest against your back. “You are so beautiful.” He praises, kissing your left shoulder, then your right one.

You spin suddenly, needing to feel his lips against yours. You dig your hand into his soft black hair, taking him into a deep kiss. The feel of his chest pressed against yours has you moaning into his mouth. You push him towards the bed and attempt to shove him onto it until he turns the table, spinning you and lying you into your back. “I'm not finished,” He pants, kissing your jaw and down your neck. He nips, kisses, and licks at your collar bone before kissing the soft flesh of your breasts. “So soft, you smell so good.” He praises, continuing to trail kisses between the valley of your breast. “Um,” You attempt to protest, lifting your hands to cover your tummy. “Don’t hide from me jagi. Please.” He begs, carefully removing your hands and planting kisses along your abdomen. “Don’t be ashamed of your body. This is what makes you beautiful. I love it and you. Every inch of you.” He explains, pressing his face against your tummy to nip and kiss at your skin. You moan out at the action, surprised at how sexy something so simple could be. He looks up at you, his lips just above the button of your jeans, “May I?” You nod frantically, your body on fire.

He grips the button of your jeans and opens it, standing to remove your shoes and then tugging the article of clothing from your person. He smiles at you, kicking his shoes off and removing his jeans now, standing before you in his boxers. “You have the most beautiful legs. So full, thick, soft. I love when they straddle me, even though I know you hold back.” He smirks, gripping at the full flesh of your thighs. You gasp out loud causing him to bite his lip. “I just want to be covered in all things you.” He kisses the inside of your left thigh. “Smothered in your scent.” He kisses the inside of the right thigh. “I love being nestle right here,” He positions your thighs on his shoulders, like he has done many times before, “Lost in the sweet aromas of you. Comforted by your soft warmth.” He presses his nose into your core now, moaning out in completely euphoria. He kisses your now soaked center through your panties, driving you mad. You make an attempt to look down but look away quickly. “Let’s shut the light.” You pant. Yoongi pops his head up and begins to trail kisses down your inner thigh, to your knee, down your calf, and onto your ankle. “Never jagi. I’m not done telling you how beautiful you are. Now, where was I, Mmm, I’ve dreamed about what it would feel like to have these gorgeous legs wrapped tightly around me. Pulling me closer to you.” He kneads at the muscles in your calves, massaging away the tension. You drop your head on the bed, indulging in how his large hands work with such ease.

“Yoongi, that feels so good.” “I’m glad. I only want to make you feel good jagi.” He says, kissing the tops of your feet. “Such pretty feet, gorgeous toes.” You yank your foot back when you feel his tongue tickle your big toe. “No way!” You giggle, catching his gummy smile when he hugs your bent legs. “I really do think you are the most beautiful woman in the world. It hurts me to see you doubt yourself.” You sigh, looking away, his eye contact too much. “This,” He rubs your thighs and then parts your legs to grip your hips and glide his hand along your abdomen, “All of this is gorgeous. It makes you unique and special. I love all of it and all of you. I am so grateful you chose me, that I get to be in your glory every day. How lucky am I jagi?” He whispers, sliding up your body and settling between your legs. He kisses you gently, swirling his tongue around yours. “You sure? I mean, you have to say all this right?” You whisper over his lips. “I’ve never been surer jagi and I would never lie to you.” He kisses you again, pulling your body close to his. “This is the only place I want to be and with the only person I want to be with.” He moans into your mouth.

You whimper, so taken by all the things he’s said, the love he’s shown you. Why have you ever doubted him? Compared him to the others? He’s never been like them. He sees past the superficial and straight through to your heart. He has always been patient and kind, always uplifting and encouraging. “Thank you for loving me.” You pull away to say. “No, thank you for letting me love you.” “Yoongi.” You mewl, kissing him harder now. You push him onto his back and straddle him, grinding down on him without holding back this time, his sweet moan your reward. He grips your hips with his large, soft hands, digging his fingers into your flesh whilst guiding you along his growing erection. You continue this way, throwing your hands back to unhook and remove your bra. Yoongi sucks in a breath when you break the kiss to toss the material to the ground and grip your full mounds. “How could you ever doubt how beautiful you are?” He lifts his back from the bed and rolls you onto yours, taking one of your perky nipples in his mouth. He rolls his tongue around the hardened bud, your back arching in response. He soon moves on to the other breast, your moans seemingly fueling him to tease you further by grinding his erection into your sopping core whilst he tugs at your nipple.

“Yoongi, please, I need you inside of me. I can’t take it anymore.” He looks up at you from the valley between your breasts, his eyes black orbs. “You sure jagi? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m ok waiting for as long as you need me to.” “I’m sure baby.” You pant. He nods gently. “I mean, I wasn’t prepared for this. I don’t have any condoms jagi. It’s ok. We can wait. I can make you feel good in other ways.” He smirks, lowering his head to your core. “No, please, I want to feel you inside me. I trust you. Just pull out. I’m on the pill.” He rises up to come face to face with you, his straining length pressing against your needy center. “Jagi. I love you so much. I just want everything to be special.” “Anything I do with you is special Yoongi. I love you so much.” You kiss him gently, pushing I’m onto his back again. He doesn’t fight you; he watches with mouth agape while you remove your panties. You tug his underwear down, freeing his weeping member. “Should I stop?” You whisper. Yoongi closes his mouth briefly, swallowing the accumulated moisture. “Only if you want to jagi.” “I don’t.” You respond lustfully, hovering your sex over his. His skin gooses beneath yours and a small moan escapes his mouth when your grip his length. You move his head through your slit slowly, gasping when he grips your hips tightly to keep himself from hitching upwards.

You finally align the head of his penis with your entrance, resting your left hand on his chest as you lower yourself onto him. You both cry out in unison at the feeling of togetherness, gazing into each other’s eyes when you bottom out. “You feel so good wrapped around me jagi. Ah, there’s nothing more perfect in this world then you.” He praises, leading you to begin moving up and down his member. He watches you intently, love and lust mixed in his eyes. You rest your other hand on his chest, picking up your pace. “I love you.” You pant, moving just your hips now, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room. “I love you jagi. You look so beautiful. I love watching you use me.” Yoongi praises, his head dropping back onto the pillow. “Uh, jagi, you feel so good. This… is better than any dream I’ve ever had of you. Ah, fuck!” He stutters, lifting his back off the bed. He wraps an arm around your waist and begins to lift you up and down his rigid member. You cry out when he hitches his hips up to meet yours, hastening his pace, his shaft dragging against your swollen bud as his tip hits all your inner nerve endings. “Oh, Yoongi.” You whimper, out of breath and trembling.

Yoongi leans in, his mouth pressed against your ear, his pace never faltering. “You’re such an Angel. I’m so in love with you. I’m so grateful to be able to make love to you. You’re so beautiful, so amazing jagi. I’m so lucky. I just need one more thing from you tonight my love.” You hold him tightly, tears stinging your eyes, your core clenching tighter and tighter around him. The coil deep inside you set ablaze by his words. “Anything. I’ll give…you…anything.” You pant. He licks at the shell of your ear, kissing it softly, “Let go. Cum for me. I need to feel you cum around me.” You almost screech, your coil snapping at his sultry words, you clench down so hard he curses out loud. Before you know it, you’re on your back, Yoongi’s now sloppy pace a sure sign he’s close. “Ah, Ah, jagi. Where can I cum?” “Here.” You touch your tummy breathlessly. His eyes clench tightly and he let’s out a wild groan, pulling out suddenly. You whimper at the empty feeling, gasping soon after, watching him stroke his climax onto your abdomen. He’s out of breath and moaning unabashedly, dropping beside you when he’s done. “That was amazing jagi, you are so amazing. Let me get a towel for you. I’ll be right back.” He offers but you stop him, “Let’s just lie here for a minute.” He nods, lying back down beside you. You stare at one another for a moment. “Thank you for always lifting me up even when I can’t do it for myself.” You whisper to him, brushing his hair from his forehead. He smiles, taking your hand to his lips and kissing it. “You never have to thank me for that jagi. Maybe one day you’ll have to lift me when I’m down. Just know that you are one of the most amazing people I know and I’ll never stop telling you. No matter what happens. We're in this together jagi. I’m your biggest fan. Just let me worship you.” He kisses your forehead now, rising up to go grab a towel, leaving you feeling so loved and cherished.

[dimitrescus-bitch]

Special Occasion (Casey Novak x Reader)

You smiled as you looked at the small tattoo on the inside of your finger. Casey had the same one on hers, hidden by the wedding bands the two of you now wore. Outside of work, Casey didn’t really keep her ring on. Both of you liked the tattoos you’d gotten before the idea of Casey going back to the DA’s office had even come up. It had definitely rushed the two of you along in your plans for a future together, but you didn’t mind it. You loved Casey and were confident that the two of you would spend the rest of your lives together. 

“Ready to go?” You heard Casey’s voice before you registered that the door had been opened. She was standing in the doorway, her head tilted as she looked down at you. You stood up from the couch and walked over to her, smiling as you took her hand in yours. 

“You’re early,” you said, impressed. You and Casey had been together the first time she was ADA here in New York. Back then, you hadn’t been able to pull her away from her work. Now, she was still busy, but at least she didn’t always put your relationship on the backburner. She did important work with the SVU, but you needed her to be there for you sometimes too. 

“Tonight is a special night. I couldn’t be late for our first wedding anniversary dinner,” Casey told you. You would have forgiven her, this was a big case and Casey was still trying to get her footing back after being gone. “Speaking of late, we might make it on time if we go now. Traffic was starting to pick up a bit when I got here.” 

“Lead the way Mrs. Novak,” you told your wife. Casey locked up the house behind the two of you and then walked you out to the car. It seemed kind of stupid to own a car in New York, but neither you nor Casey wanted to just sell it when you moved back to the city. It’d done the too of you a lot of good keeping it around, especially since you did have places to go throughout the day normally. 

“Table for two, under Novak,” Casey told the host at the restaurant once you’d arrived. He grabbed two menus and led the two of you back to a table. It was nice, candles, soft and romantic music, and a complimentary glass of champagne. It wasn’t anything overly fancy, but it was definitely good champagne. “What were you thinking?” 

“I don’t know,” you said as you glanced over the menu. “You?” 

“They have some interesting looking pasta dishes, but that steak looks good. I suggest the lobster for you.” You didn’t miss the wink at the end of Casey’s suggestion, a nod towards one of your first dates together. Now, there was a joke that Casey was definitely getting lucky if the two of you went anywhere and you ordered a lobster dish. 

“I don’t have to get an expensive meal for you to get some babe. It’s our anniversary, a special occasion,” you said and Casey connected the dots. She quirked her eyebrow at you, wondering if that was what you meant. You gave her a small nod and she immediately started to blush a bit. 

“Damn,” Casey’s voice was huskier than usual. She bit her lip and waved a waiter over for the two of you to order. She ended up getting the steak and you decided to order the oysters. The two of you split a dessert and then went home together. You drove home since Casey had a few glasses of wine and both glasses of champagne. “Can we do the thing tomorrow?” 

“I don’t know Case, that’s not as special as today,” you teased her a little. Casey pouted and just opened her arms as the two of you sat on the bed. You leaned into Casey’s arms and she wrapped them around you as she pulled you back against the bed. Casey pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, your dress having been shed on the floor when you first entered the bedroom with your wife. “We can do that tomorrow if you’d like.” 

“I’ll even call in,” Casey told you. You smiled at the thought of her taking a whole day off to just have sex with you. “Now, let’s just lay here. It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to enjoy a nice night in with my wife.” 

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Case Closed

note: Chris talked law on Prime Time again last night, so I felt inspired to write a second part of my Lawyer!Chris fic (you can read the first part HERE) sorry for eventual typos

enjoy :)

words: 2900

warnings: swearing, smut (dirty talk, oral, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it irl, please))

“Your honor, the jury finds the defendant guilty of all charges.”

Oh. OH.

This was absolutely glorious. You couldn’t dance in court, of course, but on the inside, you were definitely having a victory parade.

A triumphant grin split your face as your gaze wandered across the courtroom over to the defense desk.

Chris Cuomo, the defense lawyer, looked absolutely crestfallen. His mouth was hanging slightly open, and he couldn’t even utter a word. Serves him right, smug bastard, you thought.

You had made an excellent case, a new witness and some very compromising documents were able to convince the jury of the defendants guilt despite all of Cuomo’s efforts to keep his incredibly whealty client out of jail.

The judge announced the sentence, and now Chris just slammed his fist on the table. This was getting better and better, but you told yourself to keep your smugness at bay, no need to stoop as low as your opponent and gloat.But there was something else you definitely needed to do, something you couldn’t let Christopher Charles Cuomo get away with.

After the defendant was taken away and you had packed up all your papers, you slowly made your way over to his desk.

“So, I was wondering if you are going to keep that horrendous tie on for dinner tonight? Because I plan on wearing a dress and I would hate for us to clash color-wise, you know.” You said, barely able to remain serious.

The look he gave you was so murderous, it sent a shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure if it was out of fear or arousal. You were still a bit sore from your encounter in the parking lot yesterday, and you really hoped on repeating it. Riling him up was just foreplay to you.

“If you’re really suggesting that I will take you out for dinner after that dirty game you played today, you are even crazier than in originally thought.” he hissed. The vein on his temple was back, pulsating as if it was threatening you.

“Dirty game?” you almost shouted, then pulled yourself together so you wouldn’t draw the attention of the people still lingering in the courtroom.

“Your client was guilty as hell, even you with your twisted sense of morality should see that. And you lecturing me about playing games, pot calling the kettle black.” You whispered furiously, unable to keep your unfazed façade on any longer.

“About dinner, you invited me yesterday, so you’re either not a man of your word or a coward. Maybe even both.”

You hit home with that, you could see that on the way Cuomo’s fists clenched around the papers he was holding, scrunching them up. Men were so predictable, you thought, call them a coward and they will do every stupid thing in the book to prove you wrong.

But you wanted dinner and, most of all, dessert, so playing into his insecurities was fair game this once.

“There’s a new Italian place on 5th avenue, across from the Public Library. I know the owner, I’ll get us a table. Be there at eight.” He muttered and was gone in a hurry.

Of course he knew the owner.

“I look forward to it.” you called after him, fake cheeriness in your voice.

+++

As agreed, you stood in front of the restaurant at eight. You wore your favorite dress, it was bright red and showed just the right amount of both legs and cleavage. You thought that you looked stunning, and you knew Cuomo would appreciate the look as well.

The roar of an engine pulled you out of your thoughts, and you spun around to where a familiar black SUV was pulling up. You rolled your eyes, if you didn’t know it better you’d think Cuomo was compensating with that car.

It stopped and he emerged on the driver’s side. And Lord help you, he looked fantastic. He wore a tight-fitting black suit and a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, showing a peak of tanned skin beneath. You wanted to climb him like a tree in the middle of 5th avenue. The confident, almost arrogant way in which he carried himself was infuriating and incredibly hot at the same time. Why was he so attractive while being such an asshole?

Your thoughts about his appearance were clearly written all over your face, because when he addressed you, he sounded even more smug than usual.

“Hi, Y/L/N, enjoying the view? I have to admit, you really clean up nice, I’m impressed.”

“Shut it, Cuomo.” You said, unable to suppress a smile. “You don’t look too horrible yourself.”

“Come on, I look great and we both know it.” he chuckled. And of course, he was right, but his ego was already big enough, no need to feed it any more.

“You look alright, I guess, but don’t to get ahead of yourself.” You said, “And now you better take me inside so I can have the amount of wine I need to make your company tolerable.”

+++

The food was absolutely delicious, and the wine the waiter recommended was so good that the two of you drank a whole bottle. It was Friday anyway, so no need to hold back.

What was really shocking too you was how good the conversation was. After a bit of initial bickering and arguing about which country produced the best red wine, you slowly started getting more comfortable with each other. The atmosphere was eased by the wine and you discovered that Chris wasn’t a completely horrible person.

Yes, he was a smart arse and cocky, and so fucking full of himself, but he was also incredibly clever, had surprisingly progressive views and on top of all he loved dogs!

When he told you that his favorite food were his mother’s spaghetti marinara, you could not suppress a little “aaw”. He looked at you funnily, but you just gave him a smile.

Your were slightly confused. This evening was supposed to be about you eating some fancy food for free and getting on Cuomo’s nerves (and maybe getting laid later).

But now, you were actually enjoying his company, and he didn’t seem hostile towards you, either. He hadn’t even brought up the trial, or how you allegedly played him dirty. Instead, he was actually listening to what you had to say and engaged into meaningful conversation.

You really were surprised, and when he was signing the bill later, you took your time to appreciate his appearance again while taking your newfound knowledge about him into consideration. Maybe he wasn’t the devil in person. Maybe, there was an actual decent human being under that expensive suit.

The two of you decided to go for a little after-dinner walk in the nearby Bryant Park, your favorite in NYC, and, as is turned out, Chris’ as well. Conversation shifted to growing up in New York and how your experiences differed from each other. But, as you found out, Chris actually grew up in a Queens neighborhood not too far from your own home, a fact that surprised you immensely.

“I could’ve sworn you were born on the Upper East Side.” You admitted “You certainly look and act the part.”

“I’m not gonna lie, prep school and Ivy and Law school certainly played a role in this. And of course, the firm I’m working for is high end. You’re expected to conduct yourself in a certain way. It’s a shark tank, you eat, or you get eaten. But I don’t have to tell you that.” His voice was quiet, almost wistful. He sounded like a totally different person.

“If that’s Queens Chris I met tonight, then I like him a lot better than this Cuomo guy from court.” You said, stopping and looking up to meet his blue eyes.

“You’re not the only one, I like him better as well.” He replied, meeting your gaze and reaching out to take your hand. His fingers were warm and rough as they intertwined with yours, holding his hand felt shockingly natural.

There were definitely sparks flying now, you could not deny it. You were drawn to this guy, and not only because of his good looks, but really attracted to the person behind the persona, you desperately wanted to know more about him.

“Tell me.” You whispered. “How did this happen? We were about to kill each other this afternoon and now were standing here, holding hands?”

“You tell me.” He murmured, and then he leaned down to kiss you. It was nothing like you expected, he was tender, gently cupping your jaw with his large hand, his thumb stroking over your cheek. His lips were soft and pliant against yours, a contrast to how hard and broad his body felt when you leaned against him to deepen the kiss.

The hand that was previously holding yours slipped around your waist and pulled you closer. You fisted your hands into the lapel of his suit jacket and what began as an innocent kiss grew increasingly steamy.

You groaned as he nipped at your bottom lip and slid his tongue inside your mouth and reached up to grab the short hair at the nape of his neck. He hissed into your mouth, his grip on your hips tightening.

You felt heat starting to pool between your legs and telling from the bulge that was beginning to press against your abdomen, Chris was sharing your sentiments.

“How fast is that ridiculous car of yours?” you panted, a bit breathless from the kiss.

“Very fast.” He replied, a grin on his slightly flustered face.

“How about we take this to your place before we get in trouble for public indecency?”

“You weren’t that concerned about it yesterday.” He chuckled “But I don’t care for the headlines either, so let’s go.”

+++

The door to Chris penthouse (you were right, of course he had a penthouse) slammed shut, and a second later, you were pressed against it by two strong arms. Chris effortlessly pinned your body against the wood with one hand while the other one fumbled with the side zipper of your dress.

The garment dropped to the floor, leaving you with only a matching black set of underwear on. Chris eyes wandered over your body and he swore under his breath before attacking your bare neck with his mouth, kissing and sucking on the skin, probably leaving another bruise.

“You’re really marking me like a fucking caveman, Cuomo.” You gasped, the effect of his lips on your skin evident, you were already slick with need.

“Come on, Y/N, you know you enjoy it.” he whispered, and you only groaned as an answer as he softly bit the junction of your neck and shoulder. You could hear his dark chuckle before his hand started to unclasp your bra, exposing your tits to the cool air of the hallway.

He sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, and you couldn’t suppress a whimper at the feeling of his hot mouth against your sensitive skin. Slowly, his large hand wandered between your legs, rubbing your pussy through your panties before pulling this last item of clothing down as well, only your black high heels remaining.

Releasing your hands, Chris slowly dropped down to his knees and grabbed one of your ankles to prob your leg over his shoulder. You let out a sharp hiss as his mouth wandered to your inner tight, leaving a trail of soft kisses before he reached your center. His fingers slowly dipped into your wet folds, spreading your arousal before he started to lightly circle your clit with his tongue. You cried out and threw your head back against the door, one of your hands fisted into his curly hair, pushing him closer between your legs.

“So bossy.” He murmured. “And so fucking wet for me.” Suddenly, he pushed two of his thick fingers into you while harshly sucking on your bud. White, hot pleasure surged through your body as you came on the spot, your knees almost giving up as you bucked against Chris’ face, coating it with your arousal.

“Fuck.” You whispered, slowly coming down from your high. Chris got up, looking very pleased with himself. You grabbed him by his dress shirt, pulling him in for a deep kiss and grinding your naked core against his very prominent erection.

“Bedroom. Now.” He groaned against your lips and kissed you again. Your hands were busy unbuttoning his shirt, tearing it from his body. It joined the rest of the clothes on the floor. You took a moment to admire his now exposed, well-muscled torso. He looked like fucking Greek god, and you wanted to run your hands and tongue over every inch of his tanned, smooth skin. You needed him, now.

“Fuck me right here, I don’t care.” You whispered, palming his erection before starting to work on his zipper.

“Filthy girl. You want me to rail you against the door.” Chris murmured, before pulling his pants down along with his underwear. His cock sprung free, hard and heavy, making your mouth water. With a swift motion, he grabbed your tights, effortlessly lifting you up against the door. The blunt display of strength just made you even wetter, your hands were grabbing his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“Stop talking and fuck me already, Cuomo.” You groaned, and a second later, he pushed his cock into you, the sudden stretch making you cry out in pleasure. He wasted no time, immediately starting a hard, fast pace.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Chris hissed through clenched teeth. “You are so fucking tight. Taking my cock so perfectly.”

“Shit, Chris, please keep moving, just like that.” You whimpered as he fucked you relentlessly, a stained expression on his face. He never slowed down his thrusts while he was holding you, it was like watching somebody run a marathon. Seeing him handle you like that was mesmerizing, bulging muscles glistening with sweat, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you. You were starting to feel slightly dizzy as your head hit the wooden door with each thrust, but you didn’t care.

Chris leaned forward to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, biting into your lower lip and pushing his tongue into your mouth. You let out a guttural cry as he eased his grip on your ass a bit, making you sink down onto his cock even more. The different angle created a totally new sensation, causing both of you to groan as Chris was thrusting into you even deeper now. A powerful, burning feeling was beginning to form in your lower stomach, quickly spreading through your whole body with every hard snap of his hips. Chris name was falling from your lips like a chant now, begging him to keep fucking you, to go harder, deeper.

“Who would’ve thought that you’d beg me to fuck you against my front door.” Chris said in a husky, breathless voice, never slowing down his thrusts. “Little Miss Perfect is not so perfect after all, huh?”

You couldn’t answer, your mind was fuzzy, and the only thing existing was the feeling of Chris, his large hands grabbing your ass, his hot breath on your skin, his cock filling you over and over again.

You were already hanging on the edge of your orgasm, but when he leaned down to sink his teeth into the tender flesh of your shoulder, the raw pain and the sheer possessiveness of the gesture were the push you needed to spiral down into your climax.

You came with a shout, your whole body convulsing, squirming against Chris. He moaned as he felt your pussy clenching around his cock, squeezing him until he came as well, calling out your name, his cock buried so deep inside you that you were sure you’d be limping tomorrow.

Neither of you moved for a minute, your sweaty foreheads pressed against each other as you tried to catch your breath. After a moment, Chris carefully pulled out and lowered you onto the floor before collapsing next to you with a huff. His hair was sticking to his forehead and his breath was tickling your face when he leaned in to kiss you. You were surprised by that motion, you had expected a cocky comment or a crude joke, but not this.

When he broke the kiss, you could see his trademark smirk spreading over his face as he inspected the hickey he left on your neck, tracing it with his fingers.

“I might really be into leaving marks on you.” He said, “A little reminder of the good time I gave you.”

“You really are just a caveman, aren’t you? Also, it seemed as if you enjoyed yourself as well.” you replied, your hand involuntarily reaching out to play with a lock of hair that clung to his face.

“I did, immensely so. In fact,” he said, voice going serious for a moment. “I’d like to repeat it, sometimes. Maybe even with another dinner, if you would like that.” His face was passive, but there was a softness in his eyes that you haven’t seen before.

“Are you really asking me on a date, Cuomo?” you exclaimed, the fake astonishment masking the giddy excitement you felt about the question. You wanted to go out with this idiot so bad, you could hardly believe it yourself.

“Looks like it, huh.” He murmured, and if you didn’t know it better you would’ve thought he was embarrassed.

“Hey, I’d love to go out with you, Chris.” Your voice was as sincere as you felt.

Chris gave you a brilliant smile, then winked at you.

“You know, I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer anyway.”

[hana-bean]

Close to you (4/7)

On the days of tears and on the days of smiles I will be by your side

---

“Wow, looking sharp, boys!”

Within the decorated front garden, already filled with aristocracy and guardians milling about, Ami, Rei, Makoto, and Minako strode up to the three men dressed up in suits—Seiya in red, Taiki in yellow, and Yaten in light blue. Each man tugged at their jacket and re-adjusted their tie to settle into the new tailor-made outfits.

“Yeah, these aren’t bad.” Yaten moved his shoulders. “I never would have thought blue was my color.”

“Psh, of course, it is. I chose the outfits!” Minako raised a hand while tittering in victory. “You’re welcome!”

Makoto pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “Are you all thirsty? The queen went with strawberry mojitos this year for her birthday cocktail!”

“That’s okay, we’ll wait for the waiters to come around—what happened to your thumb?” Taiki lost interest in the liquor once he noticed the brunette’s scratched-up, bruised digit, and furrowed his brow in concern.

Blushing, she covered it up with her other hand while muttering, “Oh uh, just… playing a game of thumb war…”

“And losing,” Ami smirked as she took a sip of her drink. Though her own thumb didn’t come out of the war clean either and was bandaged up.

Rei rested her elbow on Minako’s shoulder. “So, Seiya, how’s your leg doing?” She eyed him up and down, hungry for a snack already as she was three mojitos deep.

“It’s okay. I took a pain pill this morning and it’s just kind of a dull ache right now.”

“So like, if you took another pain pill later, you’d be able to move around a bit more? Like in the hips… area… place?” She gestured her hand over her pelvis

“I mean, sure… if I don’t get too drunk and not feel either of my legs.” He chuckled.

“Oh yeah, no… right… can’t have that!” Rei shook her head vigorously. “Gotta have you feeling at least one leg tonight.”

Seiya’s laughter trailed into nervousness, wondering if Yaten was onto something thinking they wanted to eat them.

“Please direct your attention to Queen Serenity, the first!”

The atmosphere filled with confusion in the form of a dull murmur as everyone turned toward the source of the announcement to watch the queen enter the garden area clad in her standard white dress and platinum crystal crown.

“Is she finished with the parade already?” Ami looked to the other women, receiving only shrugs for an answer. Nevertheless, everyone curtsied or bowed in succession as Serenity passed until she approached the main group.

“Gentlemen, you look great!”

The three men came up from their bows with smiles on their faces. “Thank you, your highness!”

When Rei came up from her curtsy, she caught eyes with Serenity, who stared at her for several moments looking apologetic, but then quickly averted her gaze to Seiya.

“How’s your leg doing?”

“It’s good!” He patted his hip. “I should be able to survive the day.”

“Good! Does that mean you’d be able to ride in the parade with me?”

“The parade?”

“Yes, further in the city! I ride in a motorcade and just kind of wave to people… thank them for coming out and getting drunk on my birthday.” She giggled. “Usually my husband rides with me, but I was hoping you’d be able to since he’s away this week. And also you’re a guest of honor.”

Taiki and Yaten looked at each other feeling like chopped liver.

There was no need to ask him twice. Seiya’s mouth curled into the most genuine and honored smile. “Yes, of course, your highness.”

“Wonderful!” She bounced with excitement. “We have to leave now, though.”

Ever the gentlemen, he pivoted on his good leg and held out his bent arm, enjoying every half-second of the feeling of her hand grasping the crevice of his elbow. They then began their saunter through the crowd and toward the driveway at a waiting car.

Rei had to pick her jaw up off the ground and turned toward Minako to commence in some harsh whispering. “That dirty little liar!”

“She totally has a thing for men with canes.” The blonde shook her head.

She growled before downing the rest of her drink. “I’m splitting Yaten with you then.”

“Uh, excuse you.” Minako locked her hand on her hip and waved around a finger in protest. “Split Taiki—there’s enough of him to go around.”

“I can’t climb that, I have a bad back!”

---

As the car came to a stop once it reached the parade queue, the top retracted to expose the two passengers to the afternoon sun of the young summer.

From his position sitting across Serenity, Seiya shifted on the leather seat. “So do I have the king’s blessing to be riding with his queen?”

“You do, actually.” She smirked. “In fact, he requested it.”

“Did he?”

“Well… not you… specifically… but he wanted me to have a chaperone.”

“And you choose the most injured out of the three of us?”

Her face glowed red. “Uh, well… I didn’t… see you as that… there are a lot of bodyguards around us anyway…”

It was too entertaining to see her stumble over herself, but Seiya had to keep in mind she was still royalty, and he shouldn’t get too comfortable. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help sending her a wink.

“If I have to put my cane to another use for you, I will.”

Serenity took a few moments to look away, her stomach erupting in a swarm of butterflies. And then the mimosas began to talk.

“I just feel very comfortable and safe around you.”

“It probably helps that my real job is to protect a princess. So this is very familiar territory.” He didn’t want to give himself too much credit.

That’s not what she meant, but it was probably for the best that he didn’t know that. She humored him. “Even after ten years?”

“The guardian purpose never leaves you.”

“That’s very true. I still carry around my transformation brooch.”

“Have you had to transform since Galaxia?”

“No, it’s been relatively peaceful. Just the normal societal problems—bar fights… illegal aliens…” Serenity’s heart sighed in relief to hear him laugh at her joke.

“In all seriousness, I’d be scared of you too if I knew you defeated the greatest enemy of the universe.”

Visibly flattered, she touched her shoulder to her cheek. “I’m surprised anyone even knows that.”

“Everyone in the known universe remembers Galaxia. Her reach was vast. And rightfully, so is yours. We were very excited to come here.”

“Really? Did you expect to meet me?”

“No.” His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “But everyone talks about how nice Earth is. It was actually really hard to sneak in. The security is tight.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. We had to time it perfectly to shoot in during a fireworks festival. Took us weeks to figure it out.”

“Well then, I’ll have to assign you to border security since you know all the tricks.”

He waited for a punchline, only to realize she was serious. A grateful yet regretful grin spread across his face. “That’s kind of you, your highness, but whether we find our princess or not, we must move on.”

Her face dropped while her brow furrowed. “Even after you find her?”

“Yes. Our ultimate end goal is to return to Kinmoku.”

“Right… right, of course.” The sinking of her heart was apparent through her darting, descending eyes. “But are you sure?”

“We want to go home. We’ve been away for so many years and that’s where we belong.”

“You belong here, too…”

While touched, he was more confused by her words than anything. And it must have been written all over his face in flashing letters since Serenity cleared her throat and tried to smile through the seriousness.

“That’s if you want to, of course—I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

“Um…” He breathed out a laugh. “Since we ate about two hours ago, I’m—”

“Great! Let’s get some food!”

“Do we have time to eat? The parade is about to start.”

“We have plenty of time to scarf down a box!”

“A box?” Pure dread drained the color from his face. “Of what?”

A bodyguard on foot had already approached the vehicle at the queen’s verbal summoning. And then a few seconds later, he was jogging further up the road and disappeared into the distant crowd.

“My favorite vendor is not too far away.” Serenity shook her shoulders in anticipation. “You’re going to love the dumplings there. Their pork and red bean fillings are heavenly.”

“Pork and red bean? Together?”

“Separate!” She giggled at the face he made. “They have savory and dessert ones.”

Her assurance helped Seiya’s slight appetite return and helped him relax. “I’ll only eat them if they look exactly like the ones on your head.”

“Maybe… They get more creative every year. It’s become a tradition for people to eat them on my birthday.”

“That makes sense. They don’t call you ‘Queen Odango’ for nothing.”

Her blue eyes rolled back in her head with a jaded groan. “Even in royalty, I can’t escape the nickname.”

“It’s cute. It suits you.” He tipped his chin toward her head. “What are your odangos filled with?”

“Secrets.” She giggled.

“Are you sure they can all fit up there?”

“The odangos are adjustable. That’s why my hair is so long.”

“Well, if you run out of room, I can always keep one for you.” He winked.

Unable to speak from the suggestive comment, Serenity’s blush extended down to her shoulders. They both sat in silence for a few moments until the queen felt her phone vibrate with a text notification. Her eyes widened in surprise once she looked at it, piquing Seiya’s curiosity.

“Is everything okay?”

“The database has a hit.”

---

---

Please note if you would like to follow this story, I will be updating the rest of the chapters under the tag: hana-bean closetoyou and other iterations of the spacing. I love you all!

[thejacketandthehook]

CSFF: The Blind Dates 1/1

Author: thejacketandthehook (aka everystareverywhere) 

Summary: Killian is subjected to many blind dates 

Disclaimer: I own nothing. 

Rating: G 

Word Count: 3666 

Author’s Notes: I was inspired to write this based off of this prompt: https://shireness-says.tumblr.com/post/614592715276025856/ok-but-consider-thisI @shireness-says  I hope you enjoy it and it's what you envisioned. 

A30

“Killian, I think you need to try dating again.”

The man in question raised his eyebrow to his sister-in-law and simply shook his head. “Nope. Thanks, love, but I’m good.”

Elsa pouted. It didn’t have the same effect on him as it did on his older brother. “But Killian—”

“No ‘buts,’” he quickly interrupts, holding up a finger. He puts it down after she glares at it before glaring at him. “Elsa, love, I’m fine. Really.”

“One date,” she insists holding up one finger. And again with the pout. She must think that all Jones men have a weakness against her pout when really, it’s just her husband. He can understand why his brother fell for her almost instantly – Elsa truly is a beauty. With long pale blonde hair, that’s almost always in a braid of some kind, and light blue eyes, she looks almost like a icy queen until you realize that she is just a loving, caring person.

A loving, caring person who can’t stop putting her nose into her brother-in-law’s love life. Why couldn’t he get a sister-in-law who could care less about him, or could care less if he dates? Honestly, Liam had to marry the one woman in the world who cares whether or not Killian Jones has a date on Friday night.

“Killian, please?” she begs. “Belle is a wonderful person, I’m sure—”

“Elsa, I said no.”

She keeps this up for a week.

She pouts.

He finally says yes.

(He might see why his brother is powerless to the pout. But honestly it wasn’t the pout that got him. He just wanted her to stop).

~*~*~*~

Belle is lovely, and charming, and beautiful. She has hazel green eyes, and long brown hair. Her smile is nice, and though he can’t quite place her accent (he’s going to go with Australia, but he could be wrong), he enjoys spending time with her.

“You ever been sailing, love?” he asks as their entrees arrive. He picked out a place not too far from where she works (she’s a librarian), but also close to where his brother works in case he needs to make a quick get-away. He doesn’t.

“No, but I would love to,” she sighs dreamily. “I just…I want adventures, you know?”

He does. He smiles and nods. And okay, she’s not the worst person in the world, and he can already see Elsa doing a fist pump in the air, but he’ll let her have this one. Because Belle is…well, she’s something.

And as charmed as he is by her, there’s just something…not there. He would hate to think that it’s a lack of spark, because he doesn’t believe in that kind of thing. He doesn’t. Sparks in a relationship are for people who read too much Nicholas Sparks or think that 10 Things I Hate About You is the best romantic comedy ever created.

(It wasn’t. You’ve Got Mail is the best one he’s seen, and yes, he will fight you on that.)

As they eat dessert (yes, this is going better than he planned), she starts asking him, “Have you read Pride and Prejudice?”

“I think it’s a bit underwhelming, to be honest,” he says as he using his fork to cut the piece of cheesecake. So he doesn’t see her shoulder drop, but he does hear her small, “Oh.”

He shrugs as he says, “I’m just not a fan of Austen. She’s a bit of a bore for me.”

Belle remains friendly enough, but that spark is definitely missing now, and Killian can’t help but wonder if perhaps they weren’t getting along as well as he thought.

But when he drops her off at her apartment building, she lets him walk her to the door and they give a small kiss.

Yeah. No spark.

He’s about to write this one off, when he sees an advertisement for the new Emma movie and asks if she would like to accompany him. “Try to make me an Austen fan, love.”

They go. It’s alright.

Even Belle wasn’t too impressed with it.

“I’ve seen better,” she said as they walk out of the theatre. “There’s a mini series that’s just gorgeous, with Johnny Lee Miller and Romola Garai. That one is good.”

“I’ll take your word for it, love.”

He gives her more of a peck than a kiss. She doesn’t argue.

There’s a book reading at her library and she asks if he wants to go. He kind of does, so he goes. Belle sits next to him as the author is reading their book, and she leans over to whisper something in his ear and his heart doesn’t pound, his blood is not racing, and he has no urge to grab her hand. He smiles and chuckles at her observation and comes to a realization. One that he brings to her attention later that evening.

“Belle, love, I think we need to talk.”

She sighs, like she knew this was coming. “You don’t feel it either, do you?”

Now he sighs. “I’m sorry, love.”

She waves him off. “No, please, don’t beat yourself over it.” She’s quite for a moment before she says, “But I do like you, Killian. Just not like that.”

He chuckles. “I feel the same way.”

She shakes her head slightly before saying, “Can we be friends instead?”

“Besides Elsa, I don’t I’ve ever had a friend that was a girl.”

She gives a playful shrug as she responds, “True something new.”

He laughs. “Okay. Friends.” He holds out his hand, which she takes and they give one big shake.

“Friends.” She turns to put her key in the door before asking, “We should get coffee sometime. You know. As friends.”

Coffee with Belle sounds wonderful, actually. “I’d love that.”

So that’s what they do. Every few weeks, they get a coffee and catch up on their lives.

Elsa, however, is less than thrilled.

“Seriously? It didn’t work out? I could have sworn that you two would have been perfect for each other!” she insists.

“Leave the poor boy alone,” Liam says from the couch, looking over his phone. “Sweetheart, when he’s ready, he’ll date.”

Yeah. That didn’t stop her. Nor does it stop Belle, apparently.

“I agree with Elsa,” she tells him one day after he’s complained that Elsa wants to set him up on another blind date. “I think you do need someone.”

“I don’t need anyone.”

Belle gave a small, sad smile. “I think you do.”

Which is how he ended up on a blind date with a woman named Ariel. She’s friendly, a little too friendly for him, but she also seems a bit…well….

She gets distracted easily. Everything seems to fascinate her, except him, apparently.

Their waiter, Eric, well he certainly has her attention. She checks him out more than she looks Killian in the eye.

He walks her to her car, and doesn’t hear from her again.

“She’s dating Eric,” Belle tells him two weeks later when they both have a chance to rehash that disastrous date.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” he says with no trace of anger or disappointment in his voice. “She really did seem quite taken by him.”

Elsa announces later that week that she knows someone else that Killian will like.

“Please, God no.”

He goes.

Tink is bubbly and funny and sarcastic and he kind of likes her. She’s blonde, tiny, almost like a pixie, and isn’t afraid to show her emotions. They talk throughout their entire meal, and Killian actually wants to take her out again.

But he must have missed a sign or signal or something because he calls and she doesn’t pick up. He asks Elsa if something happened, and she says she that she doesn’t think so.

Oh.

He’s a tad disappointed, but 24 hours later he’s completely over it and ready to move on.

And so is Elsa and Belle, apparently.

“No, I’m determined to get you a girlfriend,” Belle says going through her contacts.

“Belle, please, if you loved me, you would stop this and stop encouraging my sister-in-law.”

“Oh!” she says, looking up from her contact list with her eyes wide. “Of course. Anna!”

Anna. As in Elsa’s younger sister. As in his sister-in-law. As in the girl who literally gave a 15 minutes Maid of Honor’s toast (yes, he timed it.). Anna, who’s sweet, but talks too bloody much for his liking.

“No. Absolutely not. I’m putting my foot down on this one.”

“But Killian—”

“Belle. No.”

She doesn’t suggest it again.

(Except as a joke.)

But when she mentions Mulan, a woman she knows from her gym, she insists. “She’s tough, Killian,” Belle informs him. “She’s not a talker and she doesn’t beat about the bush. You’ll like her.”

As soon as Mulan arrives at the bar (she insisted; he didn’t argue), she informs him, “Look, I’m here because Belle is my friend. But I’m going to be honest. I like her. But in a different way than you do.”

Killian is a little surprised by that announcement, but shrugs before saying, “Fair enough. But listen, I’m hungry and those potato skins look really good. Want to split some appetizers and I’ll tell you how you can get Belle’s attention?”

Honestly, it was the best date that he’s had in a while.

But then, then, he sees her.

It’s about three weeks after his date with Mulan (he didn’t tell Belle why it didn’t work out. He figured that she would realize soon enough) and he’s working at his bar when she walks in.

And as much as he hates romantic comedies (okay, he doesn’t hate them, but he’s trying to make a point) and he thinks they’re cliché, time really does seem to slow down when he notices her across the bar.

With her long blonde hair that grazing the middle of her back, a tight red leather jacket over a dark gray shirt, with even tighter jeans and black boots, Killian thinks his tongue might be on the floor.

She’s meeting a group of friends (and he hates that he likes that it’s all women) before she walks over to the bar. He almost trips over himself to make sure she’s not waiting too long.

“Rum and coke,” she says, “Apple martini, and…” she pauses, looks down, “God, what in hell did Ruby want?” she thinks as she taps her fingers on the bar.

He should be upset that she’s taking up his time, but honestly he just wants to put his chin in his hand and look at her some more, because her eyes are the most beautiful shade of green he has ever seen, and he thinks he suddenly knows why Tom Hanks keep tripping up every time he gets near Meg Ryan.

She looks up at him when she finally remembers, “Oh, right! And a bees knees.” She raises an eyebrow. “Is that a real drink?”

He smirks. “Aye, actually. Made with lemon, honey, and gin. I believe that it was created in the prohibition era, to cover up the fact that people were making illegal drinks at home.”

She shakes her head, but gives a small smile. “Come to a bar, and get a history lesson. Didn’t expect that.”

“Always expect the unexpected,” he grins before getting work on her drinks.

He places them on the bar and she hands over her credit card. He can’t help but take a look at her name.

“We’ll have a tab going all night,” she informed him as she sets the drinks up so she’ll be able to carry them.

“Got it. Swan.”

She rolls her eyes, but otherwise says nothing as she leaves.

If he keeps an eye on her all night, that’s something between him and God.

They don’t order to many more drinks and when she comes to get her card and sigh the receipt, he makes sure that she has a ride home.

She smiles before telling him that the husband of one of her friends is on his way.

He takes a sigh of relief and wonders if he’ll ever see her again as she steps out of the bar.

He doesn’t need to wonder that too long. The next day (Sunday), he walks into the café that he and Belle have come to over the course of the last year and turns bright red when he sees her in the corner reading a book.

He sits facing her (Belle was sitting in the opposite chair when he arrived, he swears he didn’t plan it). His eyes keep looking over at her as she sips her drink and turns the pages of the book so carefully, almost like she caressing the pages.

Okay, so he might be romanticizing her, but he can’t seem to help it. He barely knows her and he’s captivate by her.

(Belle would say “smitten” if she knew. She doesn’t.

Yet.)

He barely hears Belle, his attention going over to Emma (yes, he also remembers her name from the credit card, sue him), until she says, “So, then I realized that I should just pierce my lip and dye my hair.”

Well, that got his attention. His eyes quickly look back at her and see that she’s smirking at him.

“What’s got your attention?” she asks.

He quickly looks down at his coffee cup. “Nothing.”

“Killian,” she warns.

“Belle, trust me. It’s nothing. Just…forget it.”

She huffs. “I can’t forget something when I don’t even know what that ‘something’ is!” She turns around to see what’s got his attention, but Emma’s not there and he takes a sigh of relief.

She turns back. “I’m going to figure it out.”

He nods. “You do that. I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

When he comes out, he bumps into someone and without thinking about it, grabs onto their arms to steady them.

Oh. It’s Emma.

“Oh,” she says when she looks at his face. “It’s you.”

And the fact that she kind of, might actually remember him makes his face feel ten degrees warmer and his heart pound a little harder.

“It’s you,” he sighs as he drops his hands.

(Hopefully he didn’t sigh, but he’s pretty sure he did. God damn, if he could smack himself right now, he would).

He clears his throat before commenting, “I see you must have gotten home safely.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You do realize that I don’t live in this café.”

He blushes even harder and looks down. “Right. Of course.”

She laughs. “It’s nice to know that you care, though. Don’t see that in too many bartenders.”

He looks back up at her. God, she’s pretty. “Really?”

She shrugs but gives a small smile. “Don’t know, really. I don’t usually see the bartender the next day.”

He chuckles before rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess…Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t.”

“I know that you know my name from the credit card, but I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Killian. Killian Jones.”

“Well, Killian, Killian, Jones,” she mocks and he laughs, “it’s was nice seeing you again.”

“You as well.”

She smiles as she walks around him to get to the exit.

Killian sits down, a smile on his face refusing to go away, and Belle sits back with her arms crossed and her bottom lip jutting out a little.

“What?”

She shakes her head, but says nothing.

When they come back the next week, Emma arrives after they do, but gets the same table. Killian is once again distracted, but this time Belle watches as a young blonde woman walks past them, and Killian’s eyes won’t stop watching her.

Belle gets an idea.

Killian gets a phone number.

(It happened when she came back to bar that following Friday. He kept smiling at her and she kept grinning at him and when she signed the receipt, there was a napkin with her number on it. He messages her the next day, because as much as he didn’t want to seem overly excited, damn it, he was.)

They message each other constantly, and twice she’s called him and they’ve spoken on the phone for hours (one time he went to work with only 3 hours of sleep in him. He was dead on his feet the entire time, a headache forming in the back of his eyes, but he wouldn’t trade one minute of it.)

He daydreams about kissing her. Kissing her on his couch. Kissing her on the bar. Kissing her in car.

(Honestly, his dreams are way worse. And by that, he means they are way better).

If he didn’t know himself better, he’d think he was half in love with her already. But he can’t ask her out. Because she’s been burnt in the past, and she doesn’t trust easily, and he knows that and understands that and respects that. So he’s going to bid his time, make sure she understands that he’s not going anywhere. That she can trust him. Rely on him. But that kind of thing takes time, and you know what? For her, he’s got all the time in the world.

Belle, however, has other ideas.

“Just one more blind date,” she tells him.

He can’t even think of looking at another woman, let alone go on a date with one. He only wants to go out with Emma. No one else.

Elsa agrees with Belle.

“One more date, Killian. If this one doesn’t work out, I’ll drop the entire thing.”

Belle, more or less, says the same thing.

Killian really doesn’t want to. But they persist. Both of them. At one point, they both came into his bar right before his shift to convince him why he needs to keep dating.

“I don’t want to date!” he wants to shout at them. But then they would ask him why, and he doesn’t want to talk about Emma, and why he can’t date her. Her past is her past, and that is her business. The fact that she told him this much information about herself is already mind-blowing to him. But it’s not his story to tell, so he won’t.

But they won’t shut up about it.

Belle insists. Elsa insists. They actually get his brother in on it too.

He relents. Again, if nothing else than to shut them up.

Belle tells him the girl’s name is Jane Fairfax, and that name sounds somewhat familiar, but he can’t place from where. Maybe she’s mentioned her to Killian before?

Anyway, to say that Killian is not looking forward to this date would be like saying that root canal work is fun. Unfortunately for him, he’s the only one that feels that way. But he’ll go on this date and then he’ll come back to his apartment and message Emma until he literally falls asleep with the phone in his hand (has happened more times that he cares to admit at this point).

Elsa sets it up at Tony’s, which seems a bit extreme for a first date—not to mention a blind first date—but Killian just wants to meet this Jane, eat his food, and get the hell out that he doesn’t care where they are right now.

His date is not there yet, so he goes over to the bar and sits down. He orders a rum straight up because it’s going to be a long night.

“Is this seat taken?”

That voice almost shatters him, because it can’t be…

It just can’t.

It is.

“Emma?” he asks, his eyes wide, slowly getting up from the bar stool (okay, more like sliding down the bar stool), his arms out to make sure she’s really there.

“Hi,” she smirks.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to meet a Frank Churchill. Name sound familiar?”

And it does.  It really does. And he wants to smack himself in the forehead for not picking up on it earlier. Jane Fairfax. Frank Churchill. Those are characters from…

“Emma,” he laughs.

She chuckles too. “Yeah. You’re friend, Belle? Yeah, she contacted me.”

“How?”

“She got me when I was leaving the café one day. You left earlier and she…” Emma looked down, almost embarrassed, and he’s never seen her embarrassed before he wants to hug her so badly. “She told that you want to date me, but you’re too shy.” She looks up and seems unsure. “Is that true?”

His mouth is so dry. His palms are soaked. He nods.

She smiles and shakes her head. “Why didn’t you just ask? I would have said yes.”

“I was worried,” he manages to get out. “I know…about your past, and I just…I wanted to make sure you could trust me.”

She puts her hands on his arms and he can feel it. Sparks. “I do trust you, Killian. I thought you figured that out a while ago.”

He looks down and gives a small chuckle. “I did not.”

She shakes her head as her hands go up his arms to go around his neck. “When Belle approached me, she said that we were going to play a small game on you. She was wondering if you’d figure out who Jane Fairfax is.”

“I didn’t.”

She smiled. “I got that.”

“But I do know who Emma is,” he said leaning closer to her.

She let out a light chuckle that he could feel on his lips and chin. “Really now.”

He mutters, “I much prefer you.”

Her lips are on his after she says, “Thank God.”

~*~*~

Killian releases Elsa from their hug and she turns to her new sister-in-law and gives her a huge hug.

“I’m so glad that you two found each other.”

Killian watches as Mulan goes over to Belle from across the room and places a small kiss on her girlfriend’s cheek before handing her a glass of wine.

He looked down at his wife (his wife) and smiled.

“Me too.”

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

She grins at the waiter before he leaves. “And if I could get another old fashioned, please? Thank you so much.” After the waiter leaves she looks at Jonathan with a playfully raised brow. “This poor woman can do as she pleases, Mr. Pine. You aren’t the boss of me.” Her hand rubs up and down James’ arm before she squeezes his bicep affectionately. “He is.”

James swallows hard but recovers quickly. "Absolutely, darling." He leans over and kisses her cheek. "This is your night of celebration, drink as much as you want."

Her response given, she takes a slice of the bread and tears off a small piece, popping it past her painted lips. “I do what I want,” she shrugs and winks at James. “For right now, right, sir?”

Conrad smiles widely at Pine. "Can you see why I love her, Jonathan? Strong, feisty." He grabs her hand and kisses it. "Perfection."

Pine sat in silence for a moment, watching the two of them. "Apologies if I overstepped." He glances over, grateful to see the food coming, having committed yet another faux pas with Anne and Conrad. "Here comes the food." The server sets everything down, including Anne's drink. "I would suggest saving room for dessert. They are to die for. And the two of you are celebrating." He cuts his steak and took a bite.

Conrad smiles at his friend. "I do have an incurable sweet tooth. What do you say, darling? Maybe split something?" - J.C.

Conrad smiles widely at Pine. "Can you see why I love her, Jonathan? Strong, feisty." He grabs her hand and kisses it. "Perfection."

“Perfection might be a little much, but I will gladly take feisty,” she squeezes his hand before he lets her go. “Perfection is boring, anyway.”

Pine sat in silence for a moment, watching the two of them. "Apologies if I overstepped." He glances over, grateful to see the food coming, having committed yet another faux pas with Anne and Conrad. "Here comes the food." The server sets everything down, including Anne's drink. "I would suggest saving room for dessert. They are to die for. And the two of you are celebrating." He cuts his steak and took a bite.

Pine’s quick shift in attitude catches her notice and she frowns, reaching out to squeeze his arm gently. “Hey, you’re good. We’re good. I was just pulling your leg. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad, that wasn’t my intention. I’ll ease up on the teasing, okay?”

Conrad smiles at his friend. "I do have an incurable sweet tooth. What do you say, darling? Maybe split something?" 

She thanks the waiter for their entrees and the drink, cutting a tender scallop and taking a bite. It’s so wonderfully cooked that she sighs, her eyes fluttering closed, before focusing on her companions. “Your sweet tooth is why your living with a baker is going to wreak havoc on your health, sir. We’ll have to take those runs in the park like we keep planning,” she smiles fondly at him. “But yes, dessert, please. What do you recommend, Jonathan? I’m a big chocolate fan.”

[dakotacrisis]

Deal’s End (4)

Operation: Get Marinette a Boyfriend Through YA Novel Shenanigans is a go!

(Read on AO3)

---

It took Marinette a whole of five minutes to start regretting making her deal. After the contract was signed and they shook on it Felix went into planning mode. He was rambling off a bunch of ideas on how to get Adrien to notice Marinette more and get them alone together. That itself wouldn’t have been bad, in fact she was actually impressed with his forethought to the situation.

No. It was when the ideas came into practice that she started to panic. She was sitting in her seat waiting for class to start and Felix was standing next to Adrien talking. Felix had said he would talk her up to Adrien and to not worry about it.

She had entrusted her love life with a demon. It felt like there was plenty to worry about!

The two continued talking and a couple of glances got sent Marinette’s way before class started.

Her leg was bouncing the entire class period. She couldn’t wait to know what it was her demonic wingman had said about her to her crush.

At long last the bell rang and Marinette shot from her seat to ask Felix what he had told Adrien.

“Cool down, love.” He assured her, “I didn’t say anything weird. All I did was spin a tale about a funny moment we had back at your place.” “What funny tale? How is that supposed to help?”

“The story was a subtle way of conveying that you are fun and funny. Therefore you sound like an entertaining person to be around.” he tapped her nose.

“That’s…” Marinette thought it over a moment, “not totally dumb.” “Oh why thank you.” Felix rolled his eyes.

“Can you blame me for being worried? Whether or not Adrien becomes my boyfriend is in your hands.” She dropped her head to the desk, “Oh god, why did I make this deal? This is a disaster.”

“God isn’t here, love.” Felix tilted her head back up, “Will you trust me? If you have forgotten I have lived a long time. I know how and when to be serious about something. Especially when it concerns one of my deals. I’m not gonna blow this. If you two don’t end up together then I’ll be unable to fulfill the deal and Hell help me if that happens.”

“Does something bad happen if you’re not able to fulfill it?”

“To me, not you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, Felix, what is gonna happen if for some reason you can’t deliver on my wish?”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“But I…” Marinette caught herself. She shouldn’t go around saying foolish things.

“But what?” Felix leaned closer with his mischievous smile. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about a spiteful entity like me?”

“I’m not!” Marinette said but she knew it was useless. Felix could see through her lies like glass.

“You humans are so strange.” Felix shook his head. “You find sympathy for everything and anything. Is it humanity that causes this kind of naivete?”

“Not wanting others to hurt is not naive.”

“It is very human though.”

“And what of you, mister demon? Have you never felt a need to spare someone some pain?”

“No. It’s in the job description.”

“Then what of me? You worked to find a middle ground with me and spare me some pain with my fate instead of using your powers to tempt me into a deal. It couldn’t have been just because you were bored.”

“Says you.”

“And it’s true.” “Stop smiling.” he grabbed her and pulled her along to the next class. “What are you doing talking to me anyway? You should be spending this time talking to mister perfect. Remember?”

Marinette didn’t argue with him more. He obviously wasn’t going to hear about him not being ruthless. They continued on to class and by lunch time Felix had come up with another idea. Not that he told Marinette any of this. For some reason this demon found it funny to jump into action without letting her know what the plan was.

Marinette trailed close behind as Felix approached Adrien and threw an arm around him. “Adrien, lad,” Felix said, “I was talking to Marinette earlier and she recommended that the three of us have lunch.”

“Oh really?” Adrien looked back at her with a surprised smile. “Just the three of us?”

“That was the plan. If you’d rather not tag along that’s fine. Marinette and I can have our own fun, can’t we love?” Felix glanced back at her with a wink. “But you are her friend and she talks about you often enough I have to admit I’m curious to get to know you better.”

“I’m looking forward to get to know you better too.” Adrien nodded. “I’d love to come to lunch with you.”

“Perfect, there is the sweetest little cafe Marinette was talking to me about earlier that sounded like it would be perfect.” Felix reached for Marinette and pulled her up alongside the two boys so she was sandwiched in the middle of them. “You can take the lead, love.”

“Thanks.” Marinette was trying her best to not freak out. But Felix was keeping a close but subtle push on her left side so that her right side bumped into Adrien as they walked. She hadn’t mentioned any cafe to Felix but now that she was out she was gonna have to find one.

After a couple minutes of walking they came to a cafe Marinette loved and the three sat down to eat. They had just ordered their drinks when Felix’s phone began to ring. Wait, since when did Felix have a phone?

“Well darn,” Felix sighed dramatically, “I gotta take this. You two order without me, I don’t know how long this is gonna take.” And with that Felix was out of his chair and around the corner out of sight.

This was his plan! To force them out on a pseudo lunch date by taking a fake phone call? What kind of romantic comedy shenanigans was he playing? This is what she gets for letting him read her YA novels. At least this was better than him suggesting they fake date in some dumb reverse psychology way of making Adrien jealous.

“That’s a shame.” Adrien shrugged after Felix had gone. “I hope he won’t be too long.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Marinette concentrated on her breathing.

The pair sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime. Shouldn’t she say something? It was Adrien, he was her crush but he was also her friend. She should be able to come up with some form of conversation.

“So,” she started in hopes that something charming or funny would spring forth in the moment. It didn’t. “Nice weather today.”

“Yeah, I guess it is nice out.” Adrien leaned back soaking in the sun of the afternoon. “Summer is right around the corner.”

“I can’t wait for it to be warm enough to break out the sundresses.” Marinette thought of the good chunk of her closet reserved for the light flowy dresses. “They’ve been locked up for too long.”

“Right, you and the girls have that sundress day, don’t you? Every year you pick a warm day and everyone comes in wearing a sundress. Even Chloe does it.”

“Yeah. It’s a lot of fun.” Marinette relaxed as the conversation eased into more topics. She was pleasantly surprised to realize how easy it was to talk to him once she got over her fright. He really was like any of her other friends. Why had she been so scared before?

Neither of them particularly noticed Felix’s absence until Marinette found herself telling an edited version of the time Felix almost threw her game controller into the screen after she won again and had to quell him with chocolate.

“Did someone say chocolate?” A waiter different from the first one approached the table with a plate and set it down between them. “Good thing I’m here then.”

“Oh, we didn’t order any dessert.” Adrien said.

“It’s on the house. For such an adorable couple.”

“Oh we’re not…” Marinette trailed off as she caught sight of the waiter’s eyes. Silver.

He caught her gaze and gave her a wink before walking away. Marinette looked back at the plate of dessert and had to resist a bark of laughter. It was a single slice of devil’s food cake.

“Well I’m not gonna say no to free cake.” Adrien beamed. “How should we split this?”

“I say we just eat our fill.” Marinette stabbed a fork into the cake taking a sizeable chunk off it. She popped it into her mouth and almost moaned at how moist and rich the flavor was. “Wow, that is good.”

Adrien took a bite as well. “You were right, that is delicious.”

“Someone might say downright sinful.” Marinette chuckled at her own joke.

“It is devil’s food cake. I guess if we were having angel’s food cake it’d be heavenly.”

“I guess it would.” They polished off the cake as they continued making bad food based puns. Felix came back just as they were wiping the crumbs from their mouths and sat down.

“Sorry for missing lunch, call took longer than I thought and then I got put on hold. It was a whole big thing.” He waved it off, “Hope you two weren’t bored without me.”

“No. Marinette is always excellent company.” Adrien said causing a wave of warmth to wash through her. “Sucks that you missed lunch though.”

“I wasn’t that hungry anyways. I have a bag of crisps in my locker I’ll nibble on before class.” Felix shrugged. “Looks like you two were rather peckish though. Order dessert without me?”

“We didn’t actually. A waiter came over saying it was on the house.” Adrien swiped a bit of frosting left on the plate. “Accidentally took us for a couple but it was rather fortuitous in the end. I think that was some of the best cake I’ve ever had.”

“Now I’m really sorry I missed it.”

“Don’t be. It was indeed great but everyone knows the best cake comes from Marinette’s parent’s bakery.” Adrien waved for the check. “I’ll get this one guys.”

“But we invited you. I’ll pay for what I got.” Marinette pulled out her wallet.

“Seriously, it’s okay.” Adrien said.

“I insist.” Marinette handed over her own money to the waiter.

“Alright, but next one is on me though.” Adrien put away his own wallet. “Should we be heading back?”

The three stood up. Felix stayed behind as Marinette and Adrien took the lead. Their conversation from the cafe continuing into their stroll back to the school. There were scraps of an attempt to include Felix but he was giving little response to them. Marinette knew what he was playing at but she couldn’t help but feel bad of his exclusion. She never wanted anyone to feel like they weren’t a part of the conversation.

After classes wrapped up Marinette and Felix returned home. Marinette flung herself onto the couch with a squeal of delight. “It worked! I cannot believe that actually worked!”

“And to think you doubted me.” Felix stood triumphant, “I told you, love, I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure, it was incredibly cheesy but it worked out in the end.” Marinette sat up. “Also, wasn’t the cake a little much? Don’t want to be too on the nose do we?”

“You loved it. I say next time I can have you two feeding each other.” Felix flopped down next to her. “See what happens when you actually put in some effort? The boy was practically mooning over you the entire time.”

“We’re you watching us?”

“Duh. I needed to make sure you weren’t going to drop the ball on the conversation. Had me worried there at first what with that remark about the weather. Was that really the best you could come up with?”

“I panicked! And you,” she smacked his arm, “You need to tell me what the plan is before you go about starting it! You threw me into the deep end without any warning!”

“It was the only way to get you to stop overthinking and embrace the moment. That is a huge problem I’ve come to realize about you. You think about everything! Did you know that?”

“I do not!”

“Yes, love, you do.” He flicked his wrist and a calendar appeared in his hand. “Every second of every day you have planned. I mean, look at this mess. Not to mention you take half a lifetime to pick out what you’re going to wear the day before.”

“Lots of people choose their outfits the day before.”

“They don’t spend that much time on it. I mean, look at me.” He gestured to his dark jeans, red shirt and black vest. “Took me a whole of ten seconds to put this together and I look great. You on the other hand spend half an hour picking out a cardigan.”

“Well I’m sorry if I don’t have your demonic good looks. I need to put in a little more effort.”

“You don’t though. You’re beautiful enough already.” He made the calendar disappear again.

Marinette felt herself blush slightly at the compliment. Her friends called her cute and pretty all day long but no one had ever looked at her and said beautiful before. No one outside of her parents that is. It hit different hearing it from someone not her family.

“Thanks.” She caught his eye and she immediately turned away. “I um, I don’t have any homework today so I thought I’d get some work done on my designs. Were you okay to chill down here?”

“Go on,” Felix looked at her with a knowing expression. “I have some work of my own to do.” He pulled a notebook out of thin air.

“More brilliant date ideas I’m assuming?”

“If you want this boy pulling you into a brooms closet for some hot and heavy makeout sessions then I need to get these right.” Felix tsked as he looked over his notes. “You are a lot of work, love. I hope you appreciate the effort I’m putting in for you.”

“I do.” Marinette smiled. “I know you didn’t have to do any of this middle of the ground work but I am glad you did. I’d almost go as far as to say it was rather nice of you.”

“Don’t let down below hear that. I’m not supposed to be nice.” Felix scoffed.

“You’re not supposed to but you are.” Marinette pointed at the fridge. “And since you missed lunch you can help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

“I don’t need to eat.”

“But you still like to.” Marinette called back from her room. She sat down on her chaise with her sketch book in hand. She had a million other designs to start and finish but her creativity was flowing as she put pencil to paper. She didn’t know what she was going to make but she was certain that it was going to be silver.

---

(1) (2) (3) (5)

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(tagged)

@sannsibarr @miss-mysterys-blog @maribug-adrienoir @mermaidreject @corabeth11 @goblinwhoships @symwinter

[calpalirwin]

The Promise

Summary: Loving after heartache was the hardest promise Ashton ever kept.

A/N: Remember that time I was all “I wanna write a single dad!ash fic where he has a small daughter (like 3 or 4) and the first time he introduces his new partner to his daughter she’s like “daddy I gotta go potty” and he’s like “oh, okay princess,” but it’s like a Thing because single dads with daughters and bathrooms. And his partner is just like “psh, I got this, c’mon sweetie!” and takes his daughter into the girl’s bathroom and he’s just like blown away because it’s such a simple act but like no woman he’s dated has just been like “mom mode activated” ya know?” Well, I finally wrote it.

Content: Dad!Ash, death, grieving, soft ending.

Word Count: 2.6K

And away, and away we go!

~~~

If Ashton had been nervous about dating again after Nora’s mom passed, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. 

He had been dating Y/N for almost seven months now. They hadn’t exchanged the three words just quite, but he was definitely on the edge. There was just one more thing he had to do first for him to feel completely comfortable with admitting his feelings. And that was what tonight was all about. His two girls meeting. And he was a nervous wreck. He had never dated a woman long enough to feel comfortable enough introducing her to Nora. Not that he had done much dating anyway. But he had promised her mother he would. And he never broke a promise. 

~~~

“Ash, I’m sick,” she mumbled, tears in her eyes. 

“Is it like morning sickness?” he asked, dumbly. He knew her pregnancy was kicking her ass. He knew she felt more miserable with each passing day. But she swallowed it and pushed forward. Because the happiness of carrying their daughter was worth every pain. Only now, she had learned why her pregnancy was kicking her ass, and it was going to break Ashton wide open. 

“No, baby,” she continued to mumble, the tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. How did she tell the man she loved that she was dying? That he would have to raise their daughter in the midst of heartbreak?

His eyebrows pinched together and his thick fingers brushed softly against her to catch her tears. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked her, swallowing thickly. 

“Baby, I- I’m dying…” her voice cracked. 

“What?” he asked in disbelief. “No,” he shook his head. “No. You’re healthy. No. No, you can’t. You’re gonna be a mom. We’re gonna raise her together. You can’t! No!”

“Baby…” She reached for his hands. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

“No,” he continued, pushing her hands away and covering his face. “NO! You can’t!” His shoulders started to shake. “This isn’t fair!” he screamed.

“Ash,” she begged, reaching for him again. “Please, you need to listen.”

“Listen to what?! Listen to you tell me I’m losing everything?! I don’t want to hear it!”

“Ashton, please,” she whispered, guiding his face to look at her. “I’m not going right away. But I will. Sooner than we’d all like. And when I do, I need you to promise me one thing, okay?”

He sniffed, his lip quivering, tears still spilling, but he nodded. “Anything baby. Anything.”

“Love again. Love our daughter. But find someone else to love for yourself. Show our daughter there is love after heartache. Show her the love you had for me in someone else.”

“Baby, I-”

“Promise me, Ashton. Allow yourself to grieve. But allow yourself to move on too. You have too much to offer to keep it bottled up. Promise me.”

He nodded. “I promise, baby.”

~~~

3 months after Nora was born, she left. And if it hadn’t been for the baby girl in his arms, he would have followed. But Nora needed him. And he needed Nora. And four years later, he was keeping his promise. 

It had started around when Nora was two and a half. A blind date here and there. Nothing too serious. They swooned when he mentioned Nora. Crooned about how they couldn’t wait to meet the little princess. Until he got a call that Nora was sick, or had woken up scared and he was throwing money down to cover the bill and running out the door. 

But his relationship with Y/N had been different from the start.

~~~

“Y/N?” he asked the woman sitting alone at a table for two. 

Her face lit up as she stood. “You must be Ashton,” she smiled, offering him a small hug hello. 

He rubbed at the back of his neck as they both took a seat. “Sorry, I’m late. I got stuck in traffic,” he apologized. It was half true. He was sorry he was nearly a half hour late. But it had been Nora clinging to his leg, begging him not to go that had caused his tardiness, not traffic. 

She waved a hand dismissively, “Please, don’t worry about it.”

“Have you ordered?”

She shook her head. “Well, I got us water. But no. So Crystal said you’re a drummer? What’s that like?”

The conversation flowed easily from there. They were about to order dessert when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID. “Fuck, I’m so sorry about this,” he apologized, cheeks flushing as he answered the call. “Luke, if this is about a song idea, text me, mate. I’m a litt-”

“It’s Nora,” Luke cut off. 

Ashton’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Calum was watching Nora. Just what the hell had happened? “And where’s Cal?”

“He’s here. We all are. But apparently that isn’t good en- yeah, baby girl he’s right here on the phone.”

“Daddy!” Nora’s voice crackled happily over the line, but he could tell that she had been crying not even two seconds ago.

He put his hand over the speaker, “I’m so sorry. Order what you want,” he mouthed at his date before sliding out of the booth to get some more privacy. He wasn’t sure how much Crystal had told Y/N about him and he didn’t want to drop the “I have a daughter” bomb just yet. “Nora love, what are you doing to your poor uncles?” Ashton spoke into the phone. 

“Come home,” her little voice demanded, and Ashton blinked away the tears at how much she was starting to sound like her mother. “Unca Cal’s smelly…”

Ashton chuckled. Calum had been better about smoking since Nora, part of his own promise to her mother. Which meant Nora must have been running him ragged if he had not only called in reinforcements, but also felt the need to smoke. “We talked about this, love. Uncles are gonna put you to bed and I’ll be home when you wake up, okay?” he told her gently. 

“No!” she said and he heard her foot stamp.

Ashton sighed. Nothing was actually wrong, so there was no need for him to rush home. “Love, I need you to go to bed.”

“No!” her voice cracked. “Daddy!” she begged. 

Ashton sighed again. “Give Uncle Lu his phone back, please,” he said, making his voice loud so his friends could hear him. 

There were some scuffle sounds, followed by a loud-pitched wail and a “Mate, we don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean you don’t know what to do?” Ashton asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s four. Just pick her up. She doesn’t weigh anything.”

“Ash, she’s her mom. We’ve tried everything. Nothing’s working. Being nice. Being mean. Everything in between. She won’t budge, dude. Calling you was the first time she stopped screaming.”

“Alright. Give me like 10 minutes, okay?”

“Mate, we’re so sorry…”

“It’s fine. If she needs me, then she needs me.”

“We all need you.”

“I’ll be home soon,” he said before ending the call and heading back to the table. “I’m so sorry about that,” he apologized. “I’m aware I’m the world’s worst date, but I gotta go. There’s uh…”

“Traffic?” she suggested with a playful smile. 

His hand rubbed at his neck. “Bad excuse, huh?”

Her smile softened to a more sincere one as she stood up, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “You don’t have to lie, Ashton. Crystal told me you have a daughter. Please, go be super dad. And when you’re done, or at least get a small break,” she said, slipping a piece of paper in his hand, “give me a call. Or text. Or whatever.”

He looked at the number scrawled on the paper in slight disbelief. “You really want to hear from me? After I was late and am now saying I have to leave before dessert?”

“I really do,” she smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek before walking off. “Serious. You better call me,” she called out before pushing her way out of the restaurant. 

He chuckled as he pulled out his wallet, pulling out his credit card and tucking the piece of paper in it. “Um, can I get the check, please?” he asked a passing waiter. 

“Already taken care of sir,” was the reply. 

“I’m sorry what?”

“Yeah, the lady who was here took care of it already.”

“Oh,” Ashton smiled. He was definitely going to call Y/N. 

~~~

“Daddy?” Nora asked from the backseat, her legs swinging under her dress. 

“Yeah, love?” he asked, his eyes darting up to glance at her in the rearview mirror briefly before returning to the road. 

“You happy?”

“Very happy, love. Are you happy?”

“Mhm!” she nodded, a wide smile splitting across her small face. Then, more solemnly, “Daddy?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Is she nice?”

Ashton smiled as he pulled into the parking space, shutting off the car before turning in his seat. “Very nice.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Very pretty.”

She nodded. “Do you love her? The nice pretty lady who makes you happy?”

He crinkled up his nose and pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh, it’s a secret though.”

Her mouth made an “o” and she clamped her hands over it. “That’s gonna make Momma super happy, Daddy!”

“Is it gonna make you super happy?”

“Super duper happy!” she squealed, throwing her hands up in the air and kicking her legs in excitement.

~~~

“Daddy!” Nora said, running to hug his legs.

“Did you have fun with your uncles?” he asked, picking her up and placing her on his hip, a kiss finding its way into her hair.

“No!” she said, crossing her arms. “They were meanies!”

Calum raised his eyebrows and crossed his own arms. “I’m sorry? Who hit who Miss Nora?”

“Excuse me?” Ashton asked his daughter, his expression stern.

Her eyes grew big and her lower lip jutted out in a pout, seeking sympathy.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to go upstairs. You are going to brush your teeth and get into your pajamas. I’m gonna stay down here and have a talk with your uncles. And you better be in bed by the time I get up there, understood?”

Her lip quivered. “Story?”

“Maybe,” he told her, setting her down. “Now, go.” He rubbed at his face as he watched her scamper off, sighing deeply. “What the hell happened, guys?”

Calum relayed how Nora had continued to scream after Ashton left for his date. The games he had tried to play to distract her. How he had made dinner and she flung it all over the kitchen. How she slapped the ever-loving shit out of him when he put her in time-out for it. How he had called Luke and Mike to see if that would help. More slaps. More time-outs. “Dude, I’ve never seen her throw a fit this bad for this long. We even called your mum. We literally didn’t know what else to do,” he concluded. Then, “I think you gotta tell her.”

“Tell her what? That I have to leave her to keep a promise to her mother that I’m not even sure I want to keep? She’s too young to understand all this, Cal.”

Calum’s hand gripped the older man’s shoulders. “Hey. We loved her too. You’re not the only one who lost her, Ash. But she wanted this. She wanted us to keep going. You’re not replacing her. She knew that. We know that. You know that, even though you won’t admit it. But Nora doesn’t. And she needs to. Otherwise, these tantrums are just gonna get worse.”

Ashton rubbed at his neck, nodding. “Alright. Thanks guys.”

“Anytime,” they told him, clapping him on the shoulder and leaving him to deal with the fall out of Hurricane Nora.

She was sitting up in bed, her arms crossed, her face pinched in anger when he made his way upstairs. “If anyone’s allowed to be angry here, love, it’s me,” he said, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

Her lip quivered and a tear rolled down her cheek.

“What’s going on, love? You know better than this.”

More tears rolled silently down her face, arms crossing tighter across her chest.

“Are you mad at me?”

She shook her head.

“Then what is it, love? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“I want Momma!” came the wail and Ashton’s heart shattered in his chest.

“Me too, love. Me too,” he said sadly, pulling her into his lap and cradling her to his chest the way he used to when she could fit in his hands.

“No, you don’t!” she yelled, pushing against him.

He swallowed thickly, a million emotions. Being angry wouldn’t do him any good right now. She was struggling with the same emotions he was; she was just so much smaller. Too young. Way too young. What had he been thinking? “I’m sorry,” he told her. “This is all so confusing. I wish I could explain this to you. That I’m leaving you with uncles sometimes because of Momma. Because I love her. Because I want her. I know this doesn’t make any sense. I’m sorry, love. Maybe one day you’ll understand. But I don’t think I’ll ever blame you if you never do.”

“Why isn’t Momma here?” she sobbed.

He rocked her small body in his arms. “Momma was very sick, love. And now she’s not.”

“Like the hospital? Can’t she come back?”

He shook his head sadly. “It’s not like that, love. But Momma loves you. She loves you so much. And we can go see her and talk to her whenever you want.”

“Do you go see her? Is that why?”

“Kind of yeah. See, I made Momma a promise. I promised her I would find someone to love us for her.”

“Don’t we love each other?”

“Of course we do! But there’s too much love, that’s the problem. Momma wants us to find someone to share it with.”

“Oh,” she said, understanding in the way only a four year old could. Then, “Daddy?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Was she nice?”

“Momma was very nice.”

“No,” she giggled. “The lady. Was she nice?”

“Yeah, she’s nice, too.”

“And pretty?”

“So pretty,” he smiled.

“You happy?”

He nodded. “Yeah, love, I’m happy.”

~~~

“Daddy?” Nora squirmed in her seat.

“Just a second, love,” Ashton said, holding up a finger, still in conversation with Y/N.

“Daddy!” Nora said louder, tugging at his sleeve.

“Yeah, love?” he asked, swallowing the minor wave of frustration at his daughter’s impatience.

She sat up on her knees and pressed her lips to his ear. “I gotta go potty,” she whispered through her hands.

Ashton scratched at the tattoo on his neck, but slid out of the booth. “Alright,” he said, helping Nora down. He hoped there was a family bathroom; he prepared for the fight that he knew was coming if there wasn’t. The world was not exactly friendly to single dads with young daughters when it came to bathrooms. He had two options: drag a screaming toddler into the men’s bathroom, or stand awkwardly outside of the women’s. Neither was appealing. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Y/N asked, her head tilting to the side.

“Nora has to… um… we’ll be right back,” he said, heat rushing to his cheeks.

She chuckled softly and slid out of her side of the booth, offering her hand to Nora who took it eagerly. “I got it,” she smiled at Ashton. “You sit.”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah. We got this, don’t we, sweetie?” she smiled down at Nora.

“Mhm!” Nora chirped happily. “Bye, Daddy!”

He shook his head and chuckled, watching them skip off towards the bathroom. Yeah, he was in love with Y/N, that much he was certain of. “Thanks, baby,” he whispered to himself with a smile.

~~~

Tag List (Message me to join!)

@goeatsomelife​ @flameraine​ @cashtonasff5sos​ @here-for-the-uproars​ @cxddlyash​ @1-irwin-94​ @baldcalum​ @sparkling-chaos​ @tea4sykes​

[buckyscrystalqueen]

The Difference: Part 1

Pairings: Mark Sheppard x Reader

Warnings: None??? Swearing must likely...

Word Count: 3204

A/N: So I’m back..... IDK Im outta shape on posting here, y’all.... hope you enjoy it, OK?

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

In your opinion, first dates were literally the worst, but with a very involved Greek mother and grandmother, a large, extremely loud group of Italian aunts on your father’s side, and a persistent twin sister, you didn’t have a choice but to go on them. Because God forbid you say no. That two letter word was like a grenade in your household. Your mother, who you currently lived with because you were a single mother, would instantly start praying for your soul before calling your sister to pray with her as well. Your father, who was a giant instigator no matter how much he denied it, would head upstairs to ‘stay out of it’, have a brief conversation with his mother, and the phone tree would be instantly activated. Within a matter of minutes, you had your Nonna and eight aunts in your room, reminding you once again, that a single mother of four quadruplet boys, needed a man in your life. 

So you simply went on the dates, used your one year olds as a ‘you don’t want me because I’ve got a lot of baggage’, and left before the waiter could even take your drink order just to sit in your car for an hour in silence. It wasn’t that you didn’t love being a mother. Shit, your boys made you a better person every single day. But there were four of them, and they were all a little over a year old now. And while you were so fortunate that they were all healthy babies, your second son, Luca, was born with Down Syndrome. Even with all the help your immediate and extended family gave you every single day, you still felt like you were drowning in dirty diapers and doctors appointments most days. 

“You’re Mark?” You asked, dismissively as you stopped beside the chair the hostess had pointed out to you in Fogo de Chāo, one of your favorite Brazilian steakhouses, and took off your jacket. He looked up at you and nodded his head once as you sat down and took a deep breath. “Alright, I’m sorry you wasted your time in coming all the way here. I’ll make this quick. I’m 29, single… obviously… I work as a contract linguist for Homeland Security in the Pentagon, and I’m the mother of quadruplets that are fourteen months old and who have no father. So, while you process that, I’m going to drink my water and then head out because usually by the time that information sinks in, men tend to either get a surprise phone call or they have to run to the bathroom only to never come back. I don’t give a shit one way or another. Again, sorry you wasted your time.” You picked up your water glass and took a long swig as your date stared at you and blinked a few times.

“Quadruplets…” He said in a British accent you weren’t expecting as you grabbed your jacket off the back of your chair. “That’s four, correct?”

“Correct.”

“What’s the gender split?” You actually froze with your arm in the sleeve and looked over at him, unbelievingly, because he was the first date to actually ask that question.

“Excuse me?”

“Four boys? Four girls? Mixture of both?” It was your turn to blink a few times in shock as you let your arm fall to your side.

“Four… boys. Do you actually give a damn, or are you just trying to get laid, here?” A huffed chuckled bubbled up from his throat as he picked up his napkin, and laid it across his lap.

“I’m genuinely curious. And I happen to be gentleman, thank you. I am a firm believer in the third date rule.”

“Oh, are you now?” You laughed as you took off your jacket again and draped it over the back of your chair. “You’re that cocky you think you’ll get to a third date with women?”

“Not in the least. I believe the accent alone gets me to the third date and I was raised to respect women.”

“So waiting until only the third date is respectful?”

“I never specified the length of time between dates, darling. This could be date one, but between now and date two, we could have lunch half a dozen times at work, since we both work for the Pentagon.”

“Those are dates.”

“Those are not dates.” He corrected as he got up to start with the appetizer bar in the center of the dining room. “I never said I’d pay for your lunches.”

“Oh, you’re slick.” You giggled as you got up to follow him. “You’re real slick.”

“I try.” He chuckled. “So a linguist, huh? What language?”

“Greek and Italian.”

“Wow. And.” He said as he looked over at you, impressed. “Two languages?”

“Since I was born. See, my mother is Greek. She moved to this country when she was two years old with her twin, my Yaya, and my Papou. So she speaks both Greek and English. Now my father is from Italy. He’s the oldest and he has eight sisters. Huge family. My Nonna and my Nonno moved to the states before my dad was born but, like my mother, he speaks two languages. So when my twin sister, Emma and I were born, it became a battle with my grandparents on which language we spoke. So we speak both fluently.”

“See, I’ve worked with your sister before.” He commented as he waited for you to finish with the salad bar. “She did some translating for me at the request of Ben…”

“Oh, so are you a lawyer with Ben?” He nodded his head as he set his plate down in his spot and pulled your chair out for you.

“I do have quite a few years on him but yes, we are colleagues.”

“Oh what, like ten, maybe?”

“You’re generous.” He breathed as he took the seat beside you and flipped his card over. “I’ve been with the NSA for nearly thirty years… and don’t point out your age here. Emma thinks it’s hilarious to point it out every time she comes into the office to visit with young Benjamin.”

“She’s a bitch.” You said with a nod as you ripped a piece of cheese bread with your fingers and popped it in your mouth. “You get used to it.”

“Now, are you two fraternal twins? Because you look nothing alike…”

“You know, it’s funny you ask.” You sort of mumbled around your bite, which you swallowed quickly. “We’re identical. But it’s like fifty fifty on who can see it. My mom couldn’t tell us apart to save her life, but my dad has no issue. Half my aunts can tell, half can’t. Our boss can, Ben can half the time but I think he cheats, you can obviously tell. My sons are an even split, too.”

“Are any of them identical?” You nodded and let out a small sigh, taking a minute to take a drink of water for a break.

“Two of them are.” You started as you looked over at him, knowing that this was the second hurdle to get over with dates. “My youngest, Theo and Thomas. Evan and Luca are fraternal. And just like me and my sister, it’s fifty fifty on who can tell them apart. My mom can and she’s super proud of that.”

“I know you have photos.” He said as he nodded at the waiter that was making his round with a skewer of hot, top sirloin.

“Oh, I have thousands.” You confirmed as you, too, agreed to some top sirloin while pulling your phone out of your purse. “But… just…” You sighed the slightest bit and lit up the screen of your phone. “Sorry, I’m protective.”

“I already know.” He nearly whispered as he put his hand on yours over the phone as the screen went dark again. “Ben has an old photo of them on his desk. When he suggested this date, he told me you’d be stand-offish to protect them, and he gave me a very brief reason why. It doesn’t scare me, darling. Your strength just makes me even more fond of you.” You looked up at him and nodded your head with a hint of tears in your eyes.

“Evan is the oldest.” You started as you lit up the screen again and laid your phone flat on the table. “He is my trouble maker. That little man can get into everything and anything in the blink of an eye. Then Luca is next. He’s my little miracle; I almost lost him twice in the NICU but he is such a fighter. I can’t tell you how many times people said I should have terminated him because he has Down syndrome. But he has taught me… so much more than any school or any thing could just in this last year, and he continues to teach me more every day. Theo, then Thomas are next. I don’t think they look anything alike…”

“Really?” Mark asked incredulously. “See they look identical to me, here.”

“Photos are a little harder with the two of them for me.” You agreed as you pushed your phone  across the table. “I have to take an extra second to really look. But face to face there is no question. They are two completely different personalities. All my boys are so different. And they all give me a run for my money.”

“Boys will do that.” He chuckled as he nodded at the next waiter, who had parmesan pork. “I think I can consider myself an expert and say that, as they get older, they will be even more of a handful.”

“You’re not helping here.” You giggled around a bite and behind your hand.

“You don’t think so? I think I am being extremely helpful.”

“No, now you’re just making me regret that I didn’t keep putting my coat on.”

“Oh, now why would you go and say a mean thing like that?” He asked as he put his hand over his heart. “Darling, that hurts. I thought I was doing so well.”

“Nope. You made it three steps forward and jumped eight back.”

“Bloody hell. I’m gunna have to try even harder, now. I love a challenge.”

——

You were actually pleasantly surprised with how your night went, and you were actually even more surprised that your date, which started at six PM, lasted through, an exorbitant amount of meat, salad, and cheesy bread, two amazing split desserts, and some absolutely amazing conversation. You pulled into the driveway at your house in Arlington at quarter to eleven, and you were only partially surprised to see all of the female half of your extended family waiting up for you.

“No!” You said as you walked through the front door with a shake of your head. “No, I’m not doing this…”

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) you sit down and you talk to us right now.” Your Yaya, Calliope, demanded in Greek as you walked through the front room of the house you grew up in.

“It’s late, Yaya.” You tried before your mom’s twin, your Aunt Selene side stepped in front of you in the kitchen doorway.

“You sit down and you tell us about this man or we will go down and wake those babies up until you talk to us, you hear me?” You sighed at her and rolled your eyes. It was moments like these where you disliked having a big family, because you knew that they would absolutely wake up your boys if you didn’t stop and spill.

“He’s very nice.” You started as you held on to the door frame to take off your heels. “Funny, charming…”

“Did you kiss him?”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Did you sleep with him already?”

“Did he pay for dinner?”

“Was he a gentleman?”

“OK, you guys need to just chill.” You said as you held your hand up and looked at the room of women. “I can’t answer six questions at once, in three different languages, at eleven at night. So here’s the run down. Yes, he paid for dinner. Yes, he was a gentleman. Emma wouldn’t have set it up if he wasn’t. No I didn’t sleep with him, yes, I did kiss him. Yes, he was very good at it. He’s got a British accent, he’s taller than me, he is divorced, he has no kids but wants and loves them, and he works as an attorney for the NSA with Ben. 

Now, I’m going to love on my babies, and go to bed because my lovely offspring love nothing more than to wake me up at the asscrack of dawn… sorry Nonna… Yaya…” You apologized as you held your hand up apologetically at your two grandmothers for swearing in front of them. “I love you all, and I will tell you more at family dinner on Sunday. Good night, go home, please. It’s bedtime.” You waved your hand at your aunts and grandmothers on your way to the kitchen, and they started collecting their things as your mother, Zoe, came running up behind you.

“Theo’s still up with your father.” She sighed as she handed you the baby monitor. “He didn’t eat much dinner…”

“Did you try laying him down with Thomas?” You asked as you stopped at the sound proofed basement door.

“He wasn’t having it. He just wanted his Mama.” With a huff, you kissed her cheek, and opened the door. 

“Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it.”

“It was a group effort, baby.” She said as she pat your shoulder. “Sweet dreams.”

“You too, Mommy. Love you.” She repeated the sentiment to you as you stepped on to the landing leading down to the basement, which was your and Emma’s former play room when you were kids and was now the studio apartment you shared with your four babies. You smiled at the older man who was sitting in a Lazy Boy in the middle of the room by the bathroom as he stopped rocking and nodded his head hello at you. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hey… there’s mama, see?” You smiled at your little boy as he picked his head up off your dad’s chest and looked over at you.

“Mama.” Theo choked as he turned and reached out for you with tears in his eyes.

“Oh, little man. Come here.” You dropped your shoes on the carpet and tossed your purse and jacket on your bed so you could take your son from your father.

“His bed time bottle is in the fridge. He didn’t touch it and he ate maybe three raviolis for dinner. I’m going up to bed.”

“Thanks Daddy. I’ll see you in the morning.” He nodded his head, sleepily as he trudged up the stairs, as your current little cry baby buried his face in your throat. “Alright, Theo. You gotta go to sleep, OK? But you can lay with mama for a little while. Only a little while, then you have to go in your bed.”

“No.”

“You can try to tell me no all you want, baby boy but you are gunna go to bed in your own bed tonight. Mama needs her own bed.” You grabbed the green capped bottle from the shelf of the fridge in the small kitchenette that, as a child, you never understood its purpose, but you were really grateful for as an adult. You dropped the bottle in the warmer on the counter and reached back behind your back to unzip your dress with a sigh. Theo protested a bit when you walked over and set him down on your king sized bed by the stairs, and he crawled across the blankets after you when you walked over to your small closet between the four cribs to throw your dress in your hamper and put on PJ’s. He slid off the bed, which was just a mattress and a box spring on the floor for that exact reason, and toddled after you into the bathroom.

“Oh, now we’re just being annoyingly needy.” You sighed when he latched himself on to your leg while you took off your makeup and ran a brush through your hair. Theo simply continued to sniffle until you finished and finally picked him up again. With one final heavy sigh, you grabbed his bottle and flipped off the lights, which didn’t do much since you had night lights all over the room so you could see your boys in the middle of the night. 

“Alright, bed time. Bed time.” You let out a relieved breath as you sat down on your bed and leaned back against the wall. Once Theo was settled in your arms with his bottle, you shoved your jacket on the floor and retrieved your phone from your bag before it followed your jacket. You glanced at the screen out of habit, looking at your sweet boy’s smiling faces, and you smiled at the text from Mark from a few minutes before.

— Hope you made it home safe. I had a wonderful time tonight. Look forward to seeing you again. 

You unlocked the screen and hit the message with your thumb.

— I had a fantastic time. I’m really glad you convinced me to stay, even if that third glass of wine is making taking care of this needy little boy a little difficult.

You hit the camera icon and flipped the view toward you and your son. You choose not to care that you didn’t have make up or a bra on any more, and took the photo of you and the beautiful, blue eyed little boy laying against your chest.

— Oh the joys of being a mother.

You set the phone down on your thigh and started to hum, hoping that you could get Theo to fall asleep quickly so you could get a couple hours yourself. Your eyes fell closed and your head gently hit the wall behind you, and the small suckling sound your son made mixed in with the sound machine that helped Evan fall asleep better than anything you had tried became your lullaby. You and Theo had both started to drift off, when your phone buzzed on your thigh.

— Oh, poor thing. I hope he goes to bed quickly for you. Sweet dreams, (Y/N). Good night… I’m gunna guess Thomas.

You smirked and glanced down at the finally sleeping little boy in your arms.

— Nope. This is Theo. Good try, though. Good night, sweetheart.

You set your phone down on your pillow and very carefully stood up to put your son to bed. He fussed for a couple seconds when you pulled the abandoned bottle from his hand and laid him down, but he thankfully stayed asleep. After checking the other three babies, you dumped out the remnants of the bottle in the sink, filled it with water, and simply left it to deal with in the morning with the boys breakfast dishes. You were already half asleep when you trudged back over to your bed and you were sound asleep the moment your head hit your pillow.

Part 2

[chloebeale]

FRIENDS DON’T | CH. 8/?

Original prompt

RATING: M | WORDS: 4,755 | ao3

Chloe’s new job as an elementary school music teacher — teaching grades pre-K through third, to be exact — doesn’t officially begin until the first week in September, but she’s eager to get out there early. She’s moving to a whole other city, a whole other state, in fact, so she needs to find her sea legs out there, and to settle into her new apartment. In true Chloe Beale fashion, she’s excited to explore a whole new place.

And the idea of spending a little quality time with Beca before the school year begins is definitely a contributing factor to her enthusiasm, too.

They’re not exactly living in the same city, but they’ve gotten pretty lucky in the sense that they’ll be only an hour’s drive away from one another, so despite the fact that she wants to get to know her new home, as soon as her parents leave the day after helping her move in, Chloe is climbing in her car and making the first of what she assumes will be many drives to Beca’s place.

It would’ve been nice to surprise her, she thinks to herself as she sits in the exhausting Los Angeles traffic. Any other time, she’d likely be annoyed by the wait, but because she knows she’s going to see Beca at the end of it, that’s something of a comfort, something to keep a smile on her face. The two have been texting back and forth constantly ever since Beca flew back from Georgia, though, talking on the phone whenever possible, too, so this trip is planned, and Chloe wonders if Beca is as excited to see her as she is to see Beca.

The ‘How far now?’ text that pops up on her car display would suggest that she is, and Chloe smiles to herself rather than responding. She’ll be there soon, she doesn’t really see the point.

Beca has never been someone Chloe has felt any kind of awkward or uncomfortable around, and she’s sure that won’t start now either, but she has to silently admit that she’s a little nervous to see how things are between the two of them. There’s always been some kind of unspoken connection between the two, but now it’s out there, it’s spoken, and while Chloe sees it as a good thing, she can’t keep the slight worry from creeping into her racing mind the closer she gets to her destination.

It becomes quickly clear to her that she has no reason to feel that way, though. The moment Beca opens the door, Chloe barely gets to greet her with a smile before Beca is taking a stride toward her, palms resting delicately against Chloe’s cheeks and soft lips pressing firmly to her own.

The whole thing catches Chloe off guard, causes her to drop the large bag previously held securely in both hands, but she doesn’t mind. In fact, the smile rising to her lips, the one stretching into the kiss, is very solid proof of that. Chloe’s lids flutter shut, now free hand reaching out to gently grab a fistful of Beca’s shirt, and a part of her wonders if she’s dreaming as she feels Beca’s grip on her face tighten, soon guiding her into the apartment without parting from their lip-lock.

Eventually, Beca pulls back, and Chloe doesn’t miss the deep shade of red prickling her cheeks. She’s sure hers are just as rosy, so she doesn’t point it out. Instead, she just loosens her hold on the dark fabric, bottom lip dragging in between pearly teeth.

“Uh, wow. Hi,” she chuckles softly, still practically able to feel Beca’s lips against her own. “That’s how we’re greeting each other now?”

It had seemed very uncharacteristic for Beca, for someone usually so guarded and essentially withdrawn, so it doesn’t really surprise Chloe that she seems to have retreated into herself a little bit already. Beca shifts from foot to foot, right hand cradling her left elbow, and it seems she’s struggling to make eye contact. Chloe can’t help but think it’s adorable.

“I guess I just missed you,” Beca finally says, shy gaze moving upward for the briefest of moments. “I’m sorry, it was probably weird. I’ve just been kind of freaking out about how things are supposed to go now, so--”

Chloe takes a small step closer, noticing the way Beca flinches slightly but doesn’t move back herself, and cuts her off with a soft shake of her head, neat curls dancing in the process. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. I wasn’t complaining. I liked it,” Chloe grins, auburn brows rising and falling playfully. Her tone softens some as she continues, becomes slightly more serious, though still incredibly gentle. “There is no supposed to, Bec. We just keep being us.” Beca still isn’t making eye contact, though Chloe reaches out a hand to gently push a chunk of brunette hair over her shoulder, and the action causes their gazes to finally lock. She swears she can see the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Beca’s mouth, and she knows she’s mirroring the expression easily.

This whole ‘just friends to something more’ thing is going to take a little navigating, a little adjusting to, but Chloe isn’t worried, not anymore. She’s confident that they’ll do it, because this is already the most natural, the most at ease she’s felt around Beca in the longest time, and she thinks that the other girl feels the same way, too.

“I missed you too, by the way.” Chloe’s voice is both gentle and reassuring, but somehow still laced with the utmost confidence. “I don’t like being away from you.”

---

They relax into being regular Beca and Chloe easily, and the day is spent with the two of them exploring the vast, vibrant city. It occurs to Chloe quickly that Beca might’ve been waiting for her to do all of this with, because she seems just as mystified as Chloe by each new sight.

(Though, in true Beca Mitchell fashion, she attempts to hide her enthusiasm -- as usual, Chloe thinks she’s adorable.)

Chloe doesn’t know whether to consider the day a date, or just two best friends hanging out. However, where the two would usually just grab one another’s hand mid-walk, things are much more subtle today, much more careful. There’s the light brushing of fingers against fingers in passing, the stark reality of longer than usual, lingering stares when the other isn’t looking.

It’s at dinner that Beca literally confirms it, and it seems to take them both by surprise.

“Put that away,” Beca frowns, motioning toward the floral patterned wallet Chloe is pulling from her purse as the waiter presents them with their check. “I’m paying.”

Chloe shoots a skeptical look across the table. Just because she’s Beca’s guest this week doesn’t mean she’s expected to take care of her. “This place is kind of fancy. We should split it.”

In spite of her attempted insistence, Beca adamantly shakes her head. “I’ve got it, Chlo.” Her tone is breezy as she slips her card from her wallet, almost like she’s barely paying attention. “You can pay on our second date.”

It seems that Beca doesn’t even realize what she’s said until it’s already out there, and Chloe watches as her cheeks flush a deep shade of pink, her eyes widening some in either surprise or horror, Chloe can’t really decide which.

“I was wondering if that’s what this was,” Chloe says, breaking into the silence. She’s sure Beca finds it awkward, but Chloe doesn’t. She just relaxes back coolly into her seat, intent gaze on Beca. “A date.”

Beca somewhat hastily clears her throat, gaze diverting from Chloe’s face. “Uh, I mean...” Her hand moves up to rub the back of her neck, thoughts evidently frantic. Chloe just grins, reaching out a pale hand across the table. She settles it palm upward, fingers motioning Beca’s closer.

“It’s okay,” Chloe promises, immediately closing her slender fingers around Beca’s once their hands have met. “I was hoping it was.”

---

If you were to ask Chloe, date or not -- it very much was a date, as they’d already confirmed -- it has been the perfect day. Just the two of them, exploring and learning a whole new place together. It’s something of a metaphor for their new relationship, in fact. The way they’re exploring and learning these whole new sides to one another, getting to see more intimately into each other’s minds.

What she’s learned thus far, Chloe adores.

It’s dark out by the time they return to Beca’s apartment. The Los Angeles sun is veiled by a dark, starry blanket, and the idea of curling up comfortably beside Beca seems like the perfect way to end their day. Chloe is tired, she knows Beca is, too. She’s willing to bet that they’ll both be asleep by the time their heads hit those plush pillows, but as long as they’re ending the day together, that’s really all that matters.

They’d taken their desserts to-go, so Beca goes to place them in the fridge to stay fresh until the morning, while Chloe retreats to the bedroom to dump her purse and fall onto the comfortable mattress. She’s perching casually on the edge of it by the time Beca comes in to join her, shrugging off her leather jacket in the process.

Chloe watches her. Studies her, in fact. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, not until she sees the soft blush overtaking Beca’s formerly pale cheeks, notices the shy smile curling at the corners of her lips.

“Come here,” Chloe instructs, a long arm stretching to flex her fingers in Beca’s direction. Beca grasps gently onto them, allowing Chloe to tug her carefully closer, until Beca is seated on the bed beside her, blue eyes studying blue eyes.

“Thank you.” Chloe barely recognizes the softness of her own voice, doesn’t notice the way the pad of her thumb rubs small circles over Beca’s knuckles. She just... Does. Like everything with Beca, it just is. It is what it is, she thinks. It’s natural.

A dark brow raises, though Beca doesn’t question her, at least not verbally. 

Chloe responds with a soft, quiet giggle, realizing she needs to clarify further. “For today. I had a really great day with you, Becs.” Her throat feels slightly dry, but that’s really not what she’s paying attention to as she lifts her free hand to delicately cradle Beca’s rosy cheek in her palm. Neither says anything more, but that’s really nothing new.

They’ve always had these conversations, the ones communicated so clearly with nothing but their eyes.

And then they’re both leaning in. Chloe doesn’t know whether she has begun to guide Beca’s face closer toward her own, or whether Beca did it herself and Chloe’s hand just happens to be resting against her cheek still, but either way, two sets of mascara coated lashes flutter shut, two sets of full lips crash against one another’s.

And suddenly Chloe is hooked.

This hadn’t been the intention tonight, Chloe thinks as her hand slips from Beca’s face and down toward her neck, the feeling of small hands ghosting along her lower back causing her body to tense beneath their touch. She relaxes as she lays back against the comforter, pulling Beca down on top of her. Beca’s knees fall either side of Chloe’s thighs on the bed, and it’s clear that neither one of them has any intentions of this stopping.

They’d wanted to take things slowly. They were both in agreement that there was no need to rush. But four years is a long time, and Chloe can admit now that she has wanted Beca Mitchell for the last four years. Each second of that time, all of the build up, the longing, the anticipation, is all poured into the way their hands roam and eagerly explore, the way fingertips slip inside of loose fabric, nails ghosting feather lightly along soft skin.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Chloe murmurs quietly against Beca’s lips, gently flipping them over until Beca is the one on her back, with Chloe hovering over the top of her. She forces herself to pull back from their desperate kiss, just to gauge her reaction, feel out her emotions. Their gazes lock briefly, before Beca’s hands are cupping Chloe’s cheeks, tugging her face down and reconnecting their lips.

Parting from the kiss a second time is almost physically painful, and it’s clear that Beca feels the same way, because Chloe hears a soft whine fall from her swollen lips, though her breath hitches as Chloe presses her open mouth to the delicate skin of Beca’s neck, memorizing the taste with each sure, deliberate kiss, each gentle flick of her tongue against hot skin.

It’s like, somehow, everything is moving in both fast and slow motion. One second Beca’s hands are brushing along Chloe’s body, the next they’re sliding her shirt up to tug over her head. Chloe only breaks her contact with Beca’s skin to allow her the room to peel away the garment, and makes quick work of tugging off Beca’s in the process. Next comes their bras, and Chloe doesn’t mean to stare, she really doesn’t, but God, Beca is so beautiful. She’s so fucking beautiful, and Chloe is finally allowed to notice, she’s allowed to appreciate every part of her. And so she does, she notices. She takes in every curve, every freckle lining her pale skin, the very same way Beca stares back with lust filled eyes in return.

When her head ducks to take Beca’s already stiffened nipple between her lips, Chloe wonders if she’s going to stop her. As caught up in the moment as she is, she doesn’t want to take things further than what Beca is comfortable with, but the instant whimper the action pulls from Beca’s throat tells her that this is okay. More than okay, in fact. She allows her lips to suck and nip at sensitive flesh, her tongue flicking and swirling around the hardened bud, and Beca slides her hands desperately between the two connected bodies, fingers working less than expertly at the button of Chloe’s faded jeans.

Chloe is used to taking charge in the bedroom. It’s second nature to her at this point, but she’s willing to switch things up for Beca. She’s happy to go at Beca’s pace, to let her take the lead, but it seems Beca is just as happy to give in to Chloe, too. Her arms fall back against the pillow as Chloe’s slender fingers wrap around her wrists, pinning her hands above her head, and she takes note of the adamant aching between her own legs as small, pleasured sounds rise from Beca’s throat and ring through her ears like the sweetest, most sacred of sounds.

So consumed by the woman beneath her, by the haphazard removal of the rest of their clothes, Chloe has to take a moment to truly admire Beca as she lay on the bed before her, every item now removed and out of her way. Her knees shake with both lust and anticipation as she kisses her way down soft skin, over toned abs and sensitive flesh that causes Beca’s back to arch slightly, causes her breath to hitch in her throat.

And then she’s tasting her. Not just her skin, nor her lips, though Chloe can still feel Beca’s kiss against her own, can still imagine that sweet taste, the way their lips fit so perfectly against one another’s. No, this is much more than that. Arm slipping beneath a pale thigh, Chloe lifts Beca’s leg to rest over her shoulder, tongue meeting with Beca’s wet, already swollen clit, and fuck, Chloe is addicted.

She’s addicted to the way Beca tastes, to the way her body moves beneath her own. She’s addicted to the sounds erupting from the back of Beca’s throat as Chloe takes the swollen bud between her full lips, sucking and aching for more.

“God, Chloe,” Beca whimpers, lower back arching and slim fingers winding their way into weathered auburn curls. Hearing her name on Beca’s lips, especially in the heat of the moment, only serves as a bigger turn on for Chloe, causes her tongue to press flatter against her clit and move in a way that tells her she wants to draw out every sound she can, every movement she can from Beca’s trembling body.

Her chin is slick with arousal, glistening with everything she is doing to the woman beneath her. Chloe silently feels pretty smug about it, but she’s too wrapped up in the moment to voice it, too intent on pulling every reaction she can from her. Two fingers slide easily inside of her center, tongue lapping at wet folds, pulling louder whimpers and desperate moans from Beca’s still kiss-swollen lips.

When Beca comes, when she reaches that sweet release, Chloe is pretty sure she comes right along with her. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of her walls clenching around her fingers, of her body twisting and writhing beneath her own. Chloe stays where she is, actions slowing as she guides Beca through her high, until she’s kissing her way right the way back up her body and pressing her glistening lips to Beca’s.

“You have no idea how incredible you taste,” Chloe whispers into the kiss, teeth gently nibbling down on Beca’s lower lip. She’s sure she can taste herself on her tongue, but nothing can compare to actually doing that to her, to being the one to make Beca Mitchell come undone like that.

It’s only a matter of seconds before Beca is pushing her body up against Chloe’s and flipping them over, insistent on reciprocating.

And God, when Beca makes her come, it’s better than Chloe ever could’ve imagined.

---

Ever the morning person, Chloe is the first one to wake with the bright light of the Los Angeles sunrise. It takes her a moment to adjust properly to consciousness, to relive the details of the previous night. Her lightly freckled face feels warm as she twists her neck to take in the day’s first glimpse of Beca Mitchell, and an almost lazy smile stretches itself across her lips in response.

Beca is laid on her side, back facing Chloe. Blue eyes study the sight of soft, pale skin, admire the way the smooth curves of her back outline her petite body. The fact that neither one of them had bothered to put on clothes last night is not at all surprising; they’d been in a hurry to take them off of each other, so putting them back on had been the last thing on either of their minds. They’d fallen asleep together, naked bodies tangled into one, and just like usual, everything had felt so natural.

For a brief moment, Chloe considers waking Beca. She would be lying if she was to say she has never imagined a morning like this, where she’d wake up beside the other woman and lean in close, press her lips delicately to the curve of her shoulder, kiss her way along her neck until Beca is turning around with sleep glazed eyes. Chloe would capture her lips with her own the moment she’d turned toward her, and they’d fall into each other all over again.

But it was a long night, and this is their reality now. It’s allowed to be their reality now. So Chloe decides not to wake her.

---

By the time the sound of lazy footsteps padding out of the bedroom catches her attention, Chloe is already tucking into her second slice of toast, her legs swinging coolly as they dangle from the counter where she has casually seated herself.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Beca asks mid-yawn. She takes a moment to stop, to stretch up her arms and work the stiffness out of her tired body. They have apparently both had the same idea as far as clothing for the morning; each wears a band tee, both from Beca’s middle drawer, and both sport a pair of panties to serve as pants. Beca’s shirt is black with green and white writing, while Chloe’s is green with black writing -- she can’t help but smile to herself about how accidentally coordinated they look.

“Because you looked peaceful,” Chloe shrugs, swallowing the bite of toast she’d been chewing on, then easily parts her legs as Beca approaches. The shorter girl slots into the gap with the most natural ease, and Chloe lifts a long arm to drape around Beca’s neck. “Hi,” she greets softly, comforted entirely by the way dainty hands move to rest against her hips. She feels smooth fingertips brushing against bare skin where her shirt has risen, where Beca is making small, lazy circles that cause goosebumps to rise in their path. Chloe offers out the half eaten toast slice. “Want some breakfast?”

While Beca leans forward to take a small bite, she also shakes her head, swallowing before she speaks. “Not yet. I’m still kind of tired. I only got up because I heard someone in my kitchen, I had to go investigate.” Her arms snake their way around her waist, tugging Chloe closer toward her, toward the edge of the counter.

“And that’s what you’re wearing?” Chloe smirks softly, gaze lowering to take in what she can of Beca’s outfit. “Whoever broke in here would be in for a real treat.”

“Right. I look great first thing in the morning,” Beca teases, eyes rolling playfully.

Chloe responds with a soft laugh, a small shrug of her shoulder. “I think you do.”

She can see the way Beca’s cheeks darken a shade, the sight causing Chloe to grin.

“Well, I guess that’s down to you. You’re the reason for this morning glow,” Beca states, reaching up to take the almost eaten slice from Chloe’s hand. She pops the rest of it into her mouth, and Chloe doesn’t mind. In fact, she smiles in response, silently taking note of how easy this is. God, it’s just so easy.

“And you’re the reason last night was so perfect,” Chloe exhales, other arm now wrapping around the shorter girl’s neck, too.

Sex is... Sex. It’s sex, it’s natural. It isn’t something Chloe generally thinks about before or after. It’s just something she does, usually a heat of the moment occurrence, and not something for her to question nor to think too deeply into again. But as her gaze locks with Beca’s, the shorter girl actually managing to maintain eye contact, Chloe is transported back to the night before, to the feeling of slender fingers and the sound of heavy breathing, and she realizes it might be the first time she has ever truly felt this lucky.

“Come here,” she just above whispers into the comfortable quiet between them, her head ducking to graze her lips against Beca’s. Beca stretches up taller, meeting her halfway, and suddenly Chloe is entirely consumed by her friend all over again.

Friend.

Friends don’t do this. They’re more than friends, though; they’re exactly what they were always supposed to be.

Chloe feels slender arms tightening around her, her own grip instinctively strengthening, too. It doesn’t matter that she’s tiny in height, Beca is incredibly strong, and she lifts Chloe off of the counter easily, legs wrapping around her waist. They don’t break from their kiss, not until Beca has moved across the small kitchen, carefully settling Chloe down on her feet.

“You really didn’t want me sitting on your counter, huh?” Chloe teases, grip loosening slightly.

“No way,” Beca shakes her head, small smirk on her lips. “I just cleaned that yesterday.”

“You might be cute but you’re also very annoying,” Chloe states, with Beca leaning in to peck her amused smile away, before she’s letting go. Chloe takes a second to silently think about how easily they’ve slipped into this new dynamic, into being, as she’d previously thought, exactly what they’re supposed to be. There’s a certain level of reluctance between the two of them when it comes to parting again, but they can’t exactly stay glued to each other’s side forever.

“I’ll be right back, okay? You stay off that counter,” Beca warns, the playful tone in her voice evident.

There have been many times in the past where Chloe has caught herself staring as Beca has walked away from her, but she doesn’t try to hide it this time. She doesn’t have to try to hide it, and only turns away once Beca is out of sight. There’s a content smile still settled on Chloe’s lips as she turns toward the island, elbows resting down on the surface. She extends a hand to pick up the decorative candle placed before her, humming breezily to herself as she studies the frosted white holder, just keeping herself occupied until Beca is back here with her again.

She isn’t alone for long.

Chloe has the time to set the candle back down in its spot before she feels familiar arms wrapping around her waist from behind. Her previous smirk begins to tug at the corners of her mouth again, and Chloe starts to straighten up, though she soon feels a hand settling gently on her back.

“No,” Beca whispers, carefully pushing her body forward, “Stay there.”

Although Chloe has of course felt the screaming desire to fall into bed with Beca Mitchell before, she has never actually taken the time to imagine what it would actually be like. But Beca is kind of awkward, she’s somewhat withdrawn, so the idea of her doing anything a little crazier when it comes down to sex is kind of out there.

Not that fucking Chloe over the kitchen counter is exactly crazy, but there’s something surprisingly adventurous about it, and Chloe definitely does not fight it. She just leans her top half against the counter, eyes fluttering shut with the feeling of Beca’s fingertips grazing over her sides and down to her bare thighs. She’d been the one to take the lead last night, so she’s happy for Beca to do it now.

“This okay?” Beca mumbles, lips pushing delicately to the back of Chloe’s shoulder through the fabric of her shirt. The feeling causes her skin to prickle, that undeniable ache between her legs spreading already.

“More than,” Chloe nods, a part of her desperate to turn around and watch what Beca is doing. She doesn’t want to stop her, though, doesn’t want to throw her off. So, she stays exactly where she is, leaning over the counter and allowing Beca to touch her however she wants to.

Even though she can’t see her, she can imagine just how sexy the scene going on behind her is. As Beca’s soft, parted lips lower down to the bottom of her back, fingers looping underneath the fabric of her panties to begin tugging them down her legs, she can just picture how incredible Beca looks. The way she’s lowering to her knees the further Chloe’s panties slide down slender legs. She knows Beca will be able to see that they’re wet already, that she’s aching for her right off the bat.

Feet stepping out of the now useless material, Beca pushes it aside, before beginning to trail wet, open mouthed kisses right the way back up Chloe’s legs, paying special attention to her thighs. The feeling of her lips against her skin causes a soft whimper to rise from the back of Chloe’s throat, eager for more.

With Beca’s hand slipping between Chloe’s thighs, fingers ghosting just below her center, there really could not be a worse time for the obnoxious sound of a fist hammering loudly against the door.

The sound causes Chloe to jump slightly, and Beca pauses for a brief moment, before lips are pressing to the back of her legs again. “They’ll leave,” she murmurs against her skin, “No one important.”

Normally, Chloe would go to see who it was. She’s a very hospitable person, whether this is her home or not. But given the current circumstances, she has no desire to move anywhere, so she simply relaxes onto the counter again.

“Bec?”

Both girls pause, and while Chloe’s brows tug tightly together, her body straightening up, Beca’s heart just about stops.

“Is that...” Chloe begins, tone quizzical.

“Beca, open up.” Another loud knock. “It’s Jesse.”