#this completely rearranges what i was fixing to write tonight

[apoptoses]

“And the following night in Boston, Armand was in the dining room of the Copley when Daniel came in. Daniel’s dinner was already ordered. Please sit down. Did Daniel know that Interview with the Vampire was in the bookstores?”

Was doing some research about what the Copley would have looked like when Armand ordered the entire menu and found this:

Assuming the Copley refers to the Fairmont Copley Plaza (which it must, all of the old articles I can find refer to it as just The Copley), the dining room was dominated by a rotating merry go round bar until 1978. The merry go round would finish a rotation once every hour, and you could eat dinner and sip cocktails while it went around.

There were even postcards of it that you could mail home:

(postcard circa 1930s)

By the time Daniel and Armand visited the decor had been updated, and looked something closer to this:

(this photo is from the 1960′s, surely by the 70′s it was even tackier)

So just imagine the surrealism of Daniel downing glass after glass of wine and having Armand have to help his drunk ass down off this thing, all while he goes through an emotional crisis over finding Armand hot when he laughs.

It’s no wonder they ended up together, Daniel is the only person wild enough to decide to go to dinner alone in the kind of bizarre place Armand would be attracted to.

[saintsenara]

subluxation - a snippet

rodolphus lestrange/percy weasley mature | major character death

and a little snippet from chapter three of subluxation...

featuring a character i've become obsessed with thinking about over the course of planning and writing this story - barty crouch sr. - and a question which has preoccupied me since i first read goblet of fire - did ludo bagman get away with being a death eater?

He lays another piece of parchment in Mr Crouch’s in-tray - a pro-forma reply to Mr Karkaroff about how many delegates they can bring to Hogwarts; a nice change from the fake compensation claims and Howlers about the security at the World Cup, no matter how vociferously Karkaroff will complain that the number is too low - and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

He’s exhausted. It’s been all hands on deck.

Or, at least, that’s what he’ll tell mum when he staggers through the Floo at some ungodly hour tonight. The truth is that he probably could have gone home ages ago, that there’s no real reason for him to still be in the office as midnight approaches, save for the fact that he’s worried about Mr Crouch.

There’s been a grey tinge to his skin ever since he laid eyes on the Dark Mark - a hollowness to him - and Percy feels an increasing responsibility to bring him cups of tea, to hide the morning’s Prophet so that Mr Crouch doesn’t see Rita Skeeter’s latest and fall into brooding.

He looks up and sees - through the open door to his office - that Mr Crouch is sitting at his desk with a newspaper spread before him. Percy swears internally at having let one slip through his defences, but he realises, as he steps - clearing his throat nervously - over the threshold that Mr Crouch has called it up from the archive. The paper is yellowing, the newspring fading. It must be at least a decade old.

Mr Bagman - or, Mr Bagman as he was in his prime, muscles rippling beneath his Quidditch jersey, white-toothed grin beaming at the camera - poses in a photograph. The article is a puff piece about an audacious whack he’d given Tunisia’s star chaser. Percy has no idea why it would be of interest to Mr Crouch at a time like this…

‘He was a Death Eater.’

‘I’m sorry, sir?’

‘He was a Death Eater,’ says Mr Crouch, as though he’d read Percy’s mind.

If Percy wasn’t completely sure that Mr Crouch had never told a joke in his life, he would’ve laughed.

‘Mr Bagman? A Death Eater?’

His voice is light. Mr Crouch is clearly just feeling the strain of so much overwork; he’ll get some decent sleep and be appalled that he ever suggested something so absurd. The Death Eaters were monsters - everyone knows that - but they were at least efficient ones. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s tendency to lose his rag if paperwork wasn’t perfect is so widely known that the junior clerks in the office vent their frustration at being asked to edit and re-edit their reports by referring to Mr Crouch as “my lord” behind his back.

Mr Bagman - all cheerful laziness and hearty incompetence; who’d given them prime seats at the World Cup because dad had fixed it so his brother would get off a charge of trading illegally-altered Muggle lawnmowers - would have given the Dark Lord an aneurysm.

But Mr Crouch still doesn’t seem to realise that he’s being ridiculous.

‘Not an important one. Not one that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named took any real interest in. Not like my -’ His hands convulsively rearrange the quills on his desk. The bones of his knuckles protrude sharply; he’s lost a lot of weight since the world cup. ‘But still… a Death Eater is a Death Eater, Weatherby.’

‘Sir -?’

‘Nobody else saw it like that,’ he mutters. ‘Bagnold… Dumbledore… Cut off the head - that’s what they said. Cut off the head. Deprive him of his top men… his generals… Cut off the head and the body cannot function. They didn’t care about the little fish… They didn’t care about the footsoldiers… about the counterfeiters keeping him in forged gold… about the men sitting in pubs up and down the country trading illegal poisons and keeping their eyes peeled for new recruits… “Why not show them some mercy, Barty?” That’s what Dumbledore said… Dumbledore thought he didn’t care a jot for the ordinary man… Dumbledore was a fool…’

There’s a tension building in the square lines of his shoulders, hardening so rapidly that Percy’s sure it must soon snap.

‘I knew better, Weatherby… It could never be enough to just cut off the head. The body needed to be dismembered, the rot cut out piece-by-piece. We had to find the poison where it started… And it started among ordinary people, people who were just wondering if the Death Eaters could really be as bad as they were being painted… I told them… I told them that if we didn’t stamp it out at the source then we’d never eradicate it… I told them… I told Dumbledore that every single person who even thought about offering assistance to the Death Eaters should have been in Azkaban. It doesn’t matter if their only crime was to make the Dark Lord his morning coffee… They are abominations. They can have no place in the Ministry.’

Percy’s familiar - of course - with Mr Crouch’s wartime reputation. It’s one of the reasons he admires him so much, one of the reasons why he feels a twist of resentment in his stomach whenever his father - with his Dumbledore-ish fondness for redemption - calls his conduct harsh or cruel. It’s one of the reasons he feels compelled to protect Mr Crouch from the whispers which still follow him… I know it was his duty, but still… to send his own son to Azkaban…

Mr Crouch is still glaring at the photograph of Mr Bagman. ‘I caught him red-handed rummaging through the filing cabinets in his father’s offices. He’d been at it for years, swiping folders from the Wizengamot records and then toddling along to apprise Augustus Rookwood of their contents. Augustus Rookwood… he was one of the top men, one of the Dark Lord’s greatest favourites… And no wonder, when he could offer his master state secrets like they were the day’s weather report…

‘We tried for years to find the leak… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named seemed to be a step ahead of us at every turn, it didn’t seem as though we’d ever catch the man who was helping him… And then I did. I caught Rookwood… and Dumbledore persuaded the court to refuse permission for the Kiss… I caught Bagman… and all he had to do was gurn like a simpleton at the Wizengamot and they let him off without so much as a caution…’

His voice is hot with tightly-controlled fury. Percy has never seen him like this.

It’s terrifying.

‘Mr Bagman?’ he says again. Except the suggestion no longer seems quite so amusing. ‘A Death Eater?’

‘The Ministry is crawling with them. They are everywhere, like termites in the woodwork, and I was the only person who ever tried to do anything to stop them bringing this place to its knees… And what did I get for my trouble? The Prophet digging through the dustbins and terrifying my poor wife into an early grave…’

He stares at the wall, eyes dark. Percy wonders whether he knows that he’s not alone.

‘I have to get into lifts with them every day and fight the urge to raise my wand. I have to listen to them as they sit opposite me at conference tables and pretend not to notice that they think it’s funny that I have been reduced to this… That I couldn’t stop them, when I know full well what they did… Every single one of them was right in the inner circle, hand-picked by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named… And yet all they had to do was jingle their moneybags at the Wizengamot and claim they were under the Imperius Curse and they walked free, no further questions…

‘Corban Yaxley. Gaius Kneebone. Benedict Selwyn. All of them were Death Eaters… They were never under the Imperius Curse… Eadmer Avery, who practically runs Gringotts… Iago Carrow, who got a cushy little ambassadorship because Bagnold believed his lies that I’d falsely accused him… Abraxas Malfoy, who spends his days making the board of St Mungo’s beg him for his largesse… He’s a murderer a hundred times over… His son’s even worse…’

His hand is shaking.

‘Remember this, Weatherby, if you remember nothing else I tell you… If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a Death Eater who walked free.’

[dzpenumbra]

7/11/23

Last night was horrible. I got 3 hours of sleep. I just fucking gave up and got up. I was so upset that I started writing a post for a mental health subreddit looking for some kind of advice on how to deal with this upstairs neighbor situation without being "the neighbor banging on the ceiling with a broom".

I didn't post it. I wrote like 10 paragraphs which, to anyone who has ever read this blog, knows that's pretty short for me... I deduced pretty clearly that if these people are waking me up through my box fan, my noise cancelling earbuds and white noise in the earbuds? There really aren't a lot of other options as far as sound reduction goes. That's just... where I'm at. So... the choices I have are...

Avoid the problem: relocate my sleeping spot - this is nearly impossible. My mom insisted I throw out my old mattress (which likely wouldn't fit in the rental car for the move) and she ordered me a Helix mattress which I lugged upstairs in its box. Okay, I mean... technically it would be possible for me to relocate the mattress, I'm not going to lie there... but it would be quite an undertaking and I would have to have my next steps well prepared. Then... what the fuck do I do with the loft space? ... Well... I could move my art studio up there... and I could just sleep in the main room. Use the main room as sorta... a studio apartment... and use the loft as my art workspace. The issue with this? My art space would be way the fuck away from my computer, so streaming art is out of the picture. Then I thought... well, what if I move my computer? My standing desk is way too heavy to bring upstairs. Like.. getting the mattress downstairs would be worlds easier than bringing the desk upstairs, and it would not be easy. Another option would be... basically abandoning the upstairs and just living downstairs. It just all feels a bit extreme.

Adapt: fix my sleep schedule - I don't really think I have a choice but to do this, honestly. Completely rearranging my entire house just because some people don't know how to like... take their shoes off... or walk softly before noon? It feels a bit extreme. But honestly... I feel so fucking stuck with this sleep thing.

So... let's talk about it. When I first moved here, I used to go out and smoke weed at like 4AM, then go right to bed. It would be dark out. I was a bit freaked out at first, but... I did it fine. I was watching those PTSD videos back then, ones on doing visualization of a safe place right before bed, and doing relaxation exercises. And it really did help. It's really the primary reason I made it through that transition as easily as I did.

So... what changed? Why am I scared to go to bed before dawn? Could it really be as simple as... Max died? And now I'm alone in the dark without a nocturnal partner to share the space with me? Could this just be a grief thing?

I guess we'll see. Honestly, I don't even know if it's going to be difficult. I don't even know if going to bed while it's still dark will be scary for me, honestly. It's been so long since I've even tried. There's just an invisible wall there. So... tonight will be a litmus test, we'll see what that wall really looks like.

I'm running on 4 hours of sleep. I stayed up until the maintenance guy came over, he was super friendly, the same dude that fixed my door (when the deadbolt wasn't latching) and did that inspection a few months ago. He was in and out really quick, just took a look at it, said he'd order the new part and try to get over here tomorrow to fix it. Fingers crossed. I'm going to make sure we test run it so he can see if it's wobbling and make sure he keeps that fucker tight as a drum so we don't have this problem again. I'd do it myself but I don't have a 15' ladder on hand and... to be frank... it's not my fucking job. :) Ahhh it's so relieving to finally be able to say that. HOLY SHIT. <heavy sigh of relief> Dude, when you are in isolation, living completely alone for extended periods of time... you start noticing pretty quick that if you want something done... you need to do it yourself. Not because you're the best person for the job, or because someone else might fuck it up, or you're the one who will do it well or you will do it the quickest... rather, if you don't do it... it doesn't get done. And that was fucking super eye-opening in the way I interacted with others... others who were omega-codependent. The ones who would constantly shame and guilt me for asking for help with super simple stuff. They all had people around to give them a helping hand, but they were too proud to ask for it. Pride. The most dangerous of sins, because it is the root of so many other ones, and it can also be connected to virtue in the right light... so it can often fly by undetected. But this... this manifestation is not a nice one. It's people who dedicate huge amounts of energy to hiding their problems, even from themselves, rather than admit that they need help. Those are the ones who I guaranteed would not get a finger lifted from, because - in their logic - "no one helps me..." Well... is it a coincidence that they never ask?

After years and years of being on this proverbial island, doing everything possible myself because I lack the income to hire others and I struggle with a big trauma/anxiety wall trying to make new friends, I'm finally in a position where I have assistance (reliable assistance) available to me. It feels very... secure. I feel cared about. Even though I'm just one of many many many people in this building, I still feel like... if something goes wrong, they will have my back. And that is a very new feeling outside of therapy, where it is contractually obligated. And here, I mean... it's contractually obligated too... but they're still nice people.

So yeah, the dude looked at the fan, he's going to come by either tomorrow or the day after. I did yoga, I ate, I drank a pot of coffee. Then I took an hour nap. I passed right out. And I woke up with this fucked up taste in my mouth. I still don't know what exactly caused it, but I had some really old Neon Sharpies I was drawing with on the string lights I was customizing today and that chemical smell matched the taste pretty close. Maybe I had some on my fingers and they made their way into my mouth in my sleep? I don't know. But yeah, I spend the rest of the evening doing designs on those lights, which is coming out pretty damn cool. And preparing the beads, which came out pretty damn cool. The green ones are definitely pale, but they came out more of a subdued lemon lime yellow-green, which is totally cool by me. They look great, I'm happy with them. I went back and forth on whether I wanted to put symbols on them individually, or decorate them further... but I still wasn't sure about medium, or what symbols... yeah... so I decided to hold off on that and just run this batch and do something more ornate on another batch. I just wanna keep things moving and let my inspiration inspire new pieces rather than alter current ones. I think it's a good plan.

So... I got the first layer of tung oil on the plain beads, the green ones, the blue ones, and two beads painted with Posca opaque paint pens that I was going to do test runs with acrylic sealer on. I want to see how they do with the oil. I'm very curious to see how that turns out. They should be fine, I'm just... I'd prefer to do a test run. And if that works well, that's a big win because that ink does not soak into the wood, so I can do very detailed ornamentation with those. Just using ink, even just archival ink like Micron pens, will soak into the wood and you risk what we used to call in tattooing "blowouts", where the ink just... blows out... it spreads and bleeds unintentionally. These paint pens won't do that, which is super nice.

So yeah, they're soaking up their first coat. I skipped the display table today because I didn't want to sand it. I can coat it any time, it's not a big deal. And I skipped exercise today because I'm running on two days worth of fumes. I didn't want to push myself too far. Next day is the last one on the workout plan, so that's a milestone. I'll search for a new workout and revisit the meal planner tomorrow.

But yeah, now it's 2:30 AM and I'm lined up to go start getting ready for bed. Fingers crossed things go well. This is gonna be like... sleeping somewhere new for the first time, with how long it's been. But I really need to remember... it's not new... it's a return to how things were. And the big sell? If I get to sleep now? There's a smaller time window where those people upstairs will be able to wake me up.

We'll see how things go.

[adenei]

Day 7: January Writing Challenge

A/N: So, today’s is a compilation of a couple things:

@my-patronus-is-a-champagne-glass gave me a DH tent prompt with Ron wrapping Hermione in his jacket to keep her near hypothermic self warm post return. I wasn’t planning to have this be a part of the challenge so I originally chose Prompt List #1: Angst 38 & 41 to go along with it (which did get included).

*I promise the daily word prompt will make sense by the end.*

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

Chocolate

Ron heard the tent flap open. He had the night shift tonight, and the weather was colder than was typical for this part of winter. Luckily his warming charms were working particularly well seeing as his shift had only recently started. He turned his attention to the figure standing next to him.

“Hey, Harry.” He noticed the look of worry on his best mate’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Hermione.”

Ron stiffened with concern. It was late January, at least that’s what he figured, and Hermione still had yet to speak more than three words to him in one sitting. “What’s going on?”

“She can’t warm up. She’s wrapped in about four blankets, probably has every layer of clothing that she packed in that bag, and even two warming charms around her. She’s still shivering. I think she’s sick, but she won’t let me help her.” Harry spoke in a low voice.

“And you think she’ll let me do anything about it?” Ron asked him. He wanted to, of course he wanted to! But she’d just give him her icy glare and tell him to go away. 

“I’ll take your shift if you want to try. Merlin knows I owe you one,” Harry said as he sat down next to Ron. 

“You better hope this doesn’t make things worse.” Ron stood up and walked into the tent. 

The sight before him confirmed everything Harry had told him. She was bundled up on the couch and he could see her shaking from across the room. He felt his heart wrench in his chest. What am I going to do? Ron thought as he looked around the tent. It didn’t take him long to spot his rucksack sitting on his bunk.

He walked over to it and began rummaging inside. Fleur had managed to pack it with some extra items she thought might be helpful to the trio if Ron was able to find his way back. He reached in and pulled out a wooden box and opened it, revealing a dozen small vials with various potions inside. He picked up the one labeled ‘pepper-up’ and removed it from the box before he shut the lid and returned it to his bag. The back of his hand brushed a small square of fabric that he also pulled out. A piece of parchment was attached to it.

Ron, this is a specially charmed warming blanket. You can activate it by using the warming spell. It’s designed to work for four hours before you need to reapply it. I know how cold Hermione gets in the winter. This may help. Good luck. We’re thinking of you -Fleur.

Ron sent a silent thanks to Fleur. He laid the rucksack on the floor next to his bunk and rearranged the covers before unfolding the blanket and laying it over the bed. He cast the warming spell to get the bed warm before grabbing the bottle of pepper-up and walking over to Hermione. Whether she liked it or not, she was going to receive his help.

He knelt down in front of her. “Hey, are you feeling alright?” Ron asked.

“I’m f-f-fine. Sh-shouldn’t you b-be on w-watch?” she asked. He could tell she was trying to be angry with him, but it was taking too much energy.

“Harry took over. Here, you should take this,” he held up the potion bottle for her to take.

“W-where d-did you get that?” she asked, all but pushing it away.

“That’s not important. It will help you feel better. Please, Hermione, just take it.”

“N-n-no.”

“Don’t make me pour it down your throat.”

She gave him a look and reluctantly reached out to take the bottle from him. Her hands were shaking so much that she barely got the stopper off by herself. Ron lifted his hand to hers to help her steady the bottle as she brought it to her lips. She drank it as quickly as she could manage. He took the bottle from her, placing the stopper back in it and setting it on the table to the side.

He waited a few minutes, watching to see if the potion was helping any. Her shivering seemed to stop. “Any better?” Hermione nodded slightly. “Come on, you should go lay down.”

“I’m fine here.” Of course she was digging her heels in.

Ron tentatively reached out his hand to cover hers. It was colder than ice. He was suddenly worried even more about her body temperature. There was no way he was going to let her become hypothermic because of her stubbornness. “Hermione, you’re freezing. Come on.”

He gently pulled the blankets back that she was wrapped in and helped lift her up on the couch. She was weak, and against her best intentions, fell into him. Ron was still wearing his jacket from being outside, so he unzipped and opened it before wrapping it around her the best he could to help transfer his body heat in an effort to warm her up faster.

Even though Ron fully expected her to pull away, she surprised him by doing the opposite. She leaned into the warmth of his body, and they stood there for a while. Eventually, Ron knew she needed to lie down and rest. He didn’t bother asking as he shifted to pick her up and carry her over to his bunk. 

He gently set her down on her feet and pulled back the warm covers. She slowly climbed into his bunk as he shed his jacket and his shoes. The blanket was probably warm enough, but he wasn’t about to leave her. Ron noticed she’d moved to the far side of the small bed and he climbed in next to her, tucking the covers around them and wrapping his arms around her once more. 

He felt her cold nose and hands press into his chest as she nuzzled into his warmth. This wouldn’t be happening if she weren’t so exhausted, but he wasn’t going to complain. She was quiet for a while, and Ron thought she may have fallen asleep when he heard her muffled voice.

“This doesn’t change anything.” Of course it doesn’t, Ron thought. Not that he blamed her. He still hadn’t forgiven himself, and he probably never would.

“I know,” he said simply, breathing in the faint smell of shampoo in her hair.

“You broke me,” Hermione said. He thought he felt his sweater become wet, and he guessed she was crying. Hearing those words completely tore his heart apart. He was desperate to make it up to her, to show her how wrong he’d been. How much he’d missed her, too. How much the regret consumed him. But he was at a loss.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wanted to come back as soon as my head was back on straight.” It was the biggest mistake of his life.

“Sorry doesn’t fix everything,” she said. Her words seemed to contradict her actions as he felt her attempt to get even closer to him. Ron tightened his embrace in response.

“I know, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I won’t give up.” He thought he felt her nod against him. 

~o~

I won’t give up. Ron’s words kept playing in Hermione’s head as she lay there, on his bunk, curled up in his arms. Sure, she was still mad at him for leaving, but it wasn’t enough for her to push him away anymore. She’d tried to prove to herself that she didn’t need him, but that was a lie. Accepting the truth had allowed the armor she’d built up to finally crack, and just like that, she let him in again. 

Hermione breathed in deeply as she began to make peace with herself. She smelled the clean scent that was so distinctly him. The scent that was so clear in her amortentia, but it was missing something. She focused on placing it with every breath she took. Finally, in her half slumbered state, she realized what was absent. 

Chocolate. It was faint, but something she’d always come to expect to smell mixed in with the clean scent of his soap whenever they were close. Of course she wouldn’t have smelled it now. There was no chocolate in the tent, let alone any other food, for him to snack on. She hoped there would be a day when that scent would return, and it’d become just as familiar as before.

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Love through potions [Remus Lupin x Reader] - Requested

Title: Love through potions Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader Word count: 4.8k Published: 26 July, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: I got this request by khyati1379 on Wattpad a couple of days ago. I hope you will all like this cute little one shot. Summary: Remus gets to know you while looking around in your Potions shop. Soon you start helping the werewolf with his monthly transformations, involuntarily falling for the man. Request: [x]

Hi, can u please write a Remus x reader where, after Halloween of 1981 he meets the reader in Diagon alley and she's a potioneer and owns her own potions shop. As the marauders are not there anymore to help him during his transformations she helps him by brewing him the wolfsbane potion and thats how they fall in love and get married. And after 1993 when Remus and Sirius meet up again, Sirius is happy and suprised as well that his best friend found the love of his life. Btw I love your writting. Keep up the good work!! Thank you" - khyati1379 [Wattpad]

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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Remus Lupin was a lone wolf suffering through the loss of his pack. Since his best friends, James Potter's and Peter Pettigrew's death and Sirius Black's imprisonment, he was nothing but a sad man full of sorrow. He has been trying to keep himself composed, but losing all his friends at once was something he was struggling to get over. Understandably, of course.  

You didn't know much about Remus though. One afternoon, he walked into your Potions shop on Diagon Alley, right across Ollivanders. His eyes held deep despair, which was accompanied by a pair of deep black sockets under them. He seemed like someone who wasn't familiar with the importance of sleeping. He had a tall, lean figure, which seemed to be skinnier than a man of his height should have been.

It was the first time you have seen him in your shop.

He was looking around all the ingredients sitting on the shelves. He started asking about different kinds of plants and their preparations, however he wasn't subtle enough about his questions. You could clearly spot which ones he was interested in, while the rest were simply provided as a fill in, not to seem suspicious. At first you didn't understand what he wanted, until you realised the hopeful glint in his eyes, once he mentioned the ones he needed.

Aconite, in other words wolfsbane didn't necessarily get your attention as you knew its usage has been part of many potions. When he asked about pulverised Black Quicksilver, being rather interested in its price, it did get you a tiny bit suspicious about his needs. Then your conversation deterred to Giant Moonworts and by that time you were almost certain, that you knew what he needed the ingredients for, but you didn't state your findings just yet. As he has changed the subject to Myrrh and not just any kind, ones that have been pickled in carrow spider ichor, you were completely sure of your findings, knowing that the preparation of Myrrh in such way has only been used in the Wolfsbane potion so far.

He seemed rather disappointed by the end of your conversation, but you didn't understand why. You didn't let him know that you were aware of what he needed the ingredients for, nor did you look at him any differently.

"Is everything okay?" You asked as he held a tiny jar of Acromantula venom in his hand.

"Yeah..." He breathed, his voice defeated.

"Can I be honest?" You asked, trying to establish an eye contact, but he didn't look at you.

"Sure." He spoke weakly.

"If you walk into a potions shop, you might want to be more subtle about what you are interested in." You said casually. His head turned towards you abruptly, his eyes wide in shock.

"What do you mean?" He asked, still trying to cover up his furry secret.

"Wolfsbane is a very difficult potion, with its very particular way of brewing. It wasn't hard to understand, even between your numerous questions, what you actually need." You explained to him with a gentle smile, but his face stayed still.

"I have to go." He said as he returned the jar to you and headed towards the exit.

"I could help." You stated, making him turn around suddenly and for a second you surprised yourself too. You didn't know the man. As far as you knew, he could have been a Death Eater. And there was the price of the potion and its ingredients. How were you supposed to help by going bankrupt?

"What do you mean?" He asked, looking at you suspiciously. You kept quiet, trying to collect your thoughts. He didn't seem like a bad person and if anything, you had hundreds of deadly plants and potions laying around to feel protected enough.

"I could help you with the potion." You spoke, upon finding your words. He furrowed his brows at your unusually helpful words. He was definitely not used to receiving help from people he didn't know.

"What's the catch?" He asked, eyes squinting at you.

"I want you to help me out in the shop." You replied casually, trying to keep yourself composed. You have just asked a complete stranger to help you, while you'd help him not to go on a killing spree in his werewolf form. You officially concluded yourself to be mentally unstable, but didn't show any of it to the man.

"Why would you help a werewolf? Why would you let some unknown guy waltz around your shop when you don't even know anything about him?" He questioned you and you finally realised the weight of your sudden decision. You walked back behind your counter and fell back into your chair with a deep sigh leaving your lungs.

"I have no idea." You hid your face in your palms, covering your embarrassment. "But..." You lifted your face to look at the man. "if you were a bad person, you wouldn't be questioning my intentions. You would just accept it, instead of giving me time to think it through. Or even reminding me that I might not have made the most sane decision of my life." You tilted your head as if your statements were questions and you were waiting for an answer.  

"You never know. It might be a tactic." He replied with a simple shrug.

"I don't think so." You shook your head in disagreement. Silence fell upon your pair as you went through your thoughts once again, concluding that he seemed like a genuine person. "So? You need help and I could use an extra hand." You said. It was his turn to think. He looked out the window as if it helped him to collect his thoughts better. You waited patiently, until he finally turned back around, facing you.

"I guess it's not so bad of a plan." He replied nodding slightly. "You are not planning to poison me, right?" He added suspiciously, which made you chuckle.

"You are not planning on attacking me, right?" You returned his silly question, which made him smile just a tiny bit. "Then I think we are good." You confirmed and he nodded in agreement. "I will start brewing the potion tonight. Will you be able to start tomorrow?" You asked with a raised brow, knowing that you have given a rather short notice.

"Certainly." He replied, making you smile gently.

"Brilliant." You said as you stood up and reached for his hand to shake it. "Welcome to my shop." You grinned.

"Thank you." He spoke with a warm smile, accepting your hand. His kind demeanour made you question how such a sweet man could have such a dark secret hidden in his life, but oh you didn't even know the rest of his story.

"I'm Y/N, by the way." You introduced yourself.

"Remus." He replied, letting go of your hand, after holding it inappropriately longer. You cleared your throat, feeling maybe just a tad bit awkward and said your good byes.

That same night you started brewing the potion as per your promise to Remus. You knew it would take quite a while and as you have only done it once, you were hoping that your skills in potions would help you along your way.

The following morning, Remus arrived to your shop, waiting at the counter for you to join him. You were rearranging some of the jars on the shelves at the back of the shop, when you heard Remus calling your name. You came down the ladder and walked over to the man, welcoming him once again.

You showed him around the store and asked him to replace the ingredients at the front of the shop from the new order you have just received. He simply nodded and started helping you out without a word. You found his behaviour adorable, as he listened to each and every word of yours carefully.

He was working hard, not even complaining about the dust on the shelves causing a coughing attack to break out of his lungs or the heaviness of the boxes that he had to bring up the ladders. He was diligent and very helpful, making you smile as you watched him from behind a wall, poking your head out just enough not to blow your cover.

However his behaviour wasn't the only thing that caught your eyes. As you watched him concentrate on the jars, rearranging them by name, just the way you have asked of him, you could gaze at his handsome face, which might have been rather skinny, but certainly attractive. His green orbs were fixed on the labels, carefully reading each and every one of them, but your attention was on the way how those dark green irises kept changing their colour between emerald green and hazel, occasionally taking on a brownish undertone under the sun's bright rays.

You shook your head as you realised how you have been ogling at your new colleague. You were rather unhappy with your inappropriate behaviour, so you quickly headed back to your shelf that needed some rearranging too.

Weeks passed by and before you knew it, your gaze lingered over Remus more often than you dared to admit. It was the week before full moon and Remus has already started drinking the Wolfsbane potion you made for him. It didn't seem to have any side effects, confirming that your potions skills have indeed come in handy when meeting an unusual brewing.

After the full moon, Remus came into the shop, looking exhausted. His skin was pale, the dark circles under his eyes greater than ever. You walked over to him and stood firmly by the man with crossed arms in front of your chest.

"What are you doing here?" You asked.

"I came to work." He breathed, powerless.

"No, you didn't. As much as I feel bad saying it, you do not look too well. You should not be working today." You stated, trying to hide the worry in your voice.

"Today is not my day off." He shrugged, but you just grabbed his shoulders and forced him to turn around, before you nudged him towards the door.

"I am your boss and I am telling you, it is your day off." You chuckled sweetly, which caused a small smile to appear on his face.

"Are you sure?" He asked, not wanting to leave you alone.

"Do I look like I am not?" You asked playfully. He shook his head, before he took a deep breath and left the shop.

You were brewing a potion that you have been requested to do by one of your clients, when you heard the door open, indicating a customer's arrival. You quickly adjusted the fire under your cauldron and walked to the front of the shop.

"Can I help..." You wanted to speak, when you realised your visitor was not a customer after all, but Remus Lupin. "What are you doing here?" You asked, clearly remembering sending him home just about an hour ago.

"I thought if I can't work and you have to do double of the job, I would at least bring you some food." He smiled gently, making your heart skip a beat. He was beyond sweet to you and you couldn't stop yourself from giving a small kiss on his cheek, gratefully. You didn't miss the way a slight blush creeped up on his face though.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel awkward." You chuckled as he kept adjusting his weight from one leg to the other. "Thank you." You smiled happily as you took the boxes from him.

"It's fine." He replied with a smile growing bigger.

You headed to the back where a small table was placed in a corner with two chairs next to it. You put the food on the table, opening the boxes, whilst Remus took a seat on the chair closer to him. You picked up two sets of cutlery and gave a set to Remus, while you kept the other for yourself.

"I'm glad you brought me food, I am starving, but you could have gone home and just rest. You had a difficult night yesterday, or rather today." You said, letting your worry take over you.

"I really am fine. And your potion helped a lot." He smiled softly.

"I'm glad I could help. I guess we made a good deal." You joked happily. It was an idillic moment as you both sat over the table, eating together, talking casually. You could have gotten used to it. He was a good company. He was sweet and funny, certainly more helpful than anyone you have ever met and he seemed to care about you, even if he only meant it as an employee.

Halfway through the lunch, you got up to check on your potion. You stirred it a couple of times before it finally took on a vivid green colour. You removed the cauldron from the fire and started pouring its content into small little vials. As soon as you finished, you put them all in a small box and placed it into one of your drawers.

You walked back to the table to finish your food, when you saw Remus' hunched form over the table. You walked closer to check on him, realising he fell asleep. His breathing was even, occasionally letting out a small sighing noise. His lashes laid flat against his cheeks, his lips parted involuntarily. You watched him for a mere second, admiring his handsome face, before you grabbed a blanket from one of your cupboards and placed it over his back, leaving him to rest.

Weeks went by and you were at a tipping point. Remus' kind behaviour got under your skin. You felt like you were a mere friend, a colleague, noone that really mattered to him. You wanted more though. You wanted him to feel the same feelings you have been harbouring for him. You kept watching him on every occasion you could get a sight of him and if you couldn't, you simply made it happen by leaving your job to creepily spy over him.

By the time you realised you have fallen for him, you were giving up. He did not show any interest towards you and it was killing you. He was just as nice as always and you hated how it gave you false hope.

You were sitting in your chair right across the entrance, behind the counter. Remus was at the back, bringing out some boxes, but you couldn't care less. You were holding your head in your palm, sighing deeply every few seconds, annoying even yourself with your love-sick behaviour.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he listened to another sigh leaving your lungs.

"Yeah..." You replied dreamily.

"You don't seem alright to me." He frowned at your unusual behaviour.

"Actually, nothing is alright, but I can't do anything about it." You sighed again, still halfway lost in your daydreaming about Remus.

"Can I help you?" He asked kindly, but you just scoffed, making his frown grew deeper.

"Actually, you could. But you could only help if I told you what bothers me. But if I told you what bothers me, you would leave. In conclusion, I don't want you to leave, so I don't need your help." You heaved a deep sigh and placed your forehead on the edge of your table in defeat, closing your eyes. You were cursing yourself for falling for Remus. You wished he could see more than a friend in you, but for some reason, he just couldn't.

You looked into the mirror more often recently, than ever to check if you looked okay. You didn't need to be perfect, but just an okay. Still he clearly didn't want your okay look. He was just not satisfied with you and it hurt you to know that you weren't enough.

You turned your head to the right and opened your eyes, when you met a pair of green orbs, forcing you to shot up in surprise.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He spoke, his tone light and gentle. As soon as you calmed down, you placed your head back against your table and kept your eyes on his, not caring about how inappropriately you have been staring at him. "Look, I really didn't understand anything you said. Why would I leave, if you told me how I could help you?" He asked curiously, making you pout at the thought of your unrequited love. At this point you wanted nothing, but letting your feelings out. But you stopped yourself.

"Just ignore me." You told him as you turned to your left. You could hear him move and in seconds he was crouching beside your left side.

"Talk to me, please." He spoke softly.

"No." You said harshly as you jumped up from your seat and forced yourself to concentrate on your previous tasks. You walked up the ladder and started rearranging the vials of ingredients in alphabetical order. You didn't even realise when Remus appeared, but when you looked down he was standing beside the legs of your ladder.

"Y/N, something is clearly bothering you. Just talk to me." His tone was more forceful than before.

"I don't want to talk about it." You said shrugging, your lips pouting like a little child's. You kept your attention on your task, up until you felt your ladder move. The next thing you saw was Remus walking up the steps, right before his eyes were finally levelled with yours.

You could feel his breath against your face, he was so close to you. His green irises wondered between your eyes, searching for something. But you couldn't have possible concentrated on that. He was way to close and you couldn't understand how he couldn't see the effects he had on you. Your eyes wondered down to his pink, plump lips, before they returned to his eyes.

You could feel the deep breath he took as he exhaled. His tongue darted out of his lips to lick across them, making your head feel dizzy at the inappropriate thoughts your mind was harbouring. You gulped loudly trying to get rid of the picture you have just witnessed, replaying the motion of his tongue across his lips in your memory.

"Just talk to me." He spoke in a low tone and you weren't even sure, if a simple note could leave your lips, let alone a complete sentence. You cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself, but you just badly failed as he accidentally slipped on the step of the ladder, grabbing on to your waist to steady himself. He involuntarily pulled you closer to him, your nose touching his. You couldn't do this anymore. As if a confidence boost took over your mind, you placed your hand behind his neck and kissed him.

You could feel the hesitation in him as he forgot to kiss you back. You pulled away, feeling tears collect in your eyes at the harsh rejection. You just wanted to run away, forget that you have dumbly took a step you should never have done. The grip around your chest became stronger, the lump in your throat grew wider, almost suffocating you. Your will to disappear heightened by the second. But unfortunately for you, you were seated on top of the ladder, Remus right in front of you, closing your only escape route. You gulped loudly before deciding to speak.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." Your head dropped forward, fearing to look into his eyes.

"Why?" He asked simply.

"Because I kissed you." You explained, feeling even dumber.

"No, I mean why did you kiss me?" He clarified his question. You just scoffed in a reply, feeling as if he tried to make fun of you. Although you knew he wasn't that kind of a person, you were still hurt by his rejection.

"Why do people kiss each other?" You asked as you played with your hands nervously.

"Because they like each other?" It was more of a question than a statement, so you nodded in agreement. "And you like me?" He asked softly, making you feel even worse. He was supposed to be angry at you for doing something he didn't want. Instead of answering though, you nodded as a reply. "I can't hear you." He said, his tone more confident this time. Your blood was boiling that he didn't think of you as a potential partner, still he was trying to get you to confess to him.

"I love you. Are you happy now?" You asked in anger, feeling desperate to just get out of that awkward situation.

"You love me?" He asked, uncertainty clear in his voice.

"Are you kidding me?" You lifted your head, your expression distraught. "Are you trying to make fun of me? I get it okay? You don't like me. It's fine. But it's cruel to make me suffer through this unnecessarily awkward conversation. Please just let me down." You didn't even realise when your tears started rolling down your cheeks. You stood up, trying to push him to the side, to get yourself out of there, but before you could have gone anywhere, he got hold of your waist and gently pushed you back into your seated position.

"I didn't want to hurt you." He said as he removed your tears with his soft thumb. You could feel his warmth radiating through his skin.

"But that is exactly what you are doing." You told him weakly.

"I was just surprised, Y/N. I didn't think you had feelings for me." His voice was light as a feather, perhaps trying not to scare you away. "I might have reacted badly, but I didn't mean to hurt you." He spoke as he caressed your cheeks, painfully getting your hopes up. "I wish I could turn back time and act differently, but unfortunately I can't do that." He smiled softly, making you frown. "But if I am good at something, it has to be trying. Maybe we could try that kiss again?" He asked, your eyes growing wide at his words.

"Why would you want to do that?" You questioned, completely lost in what was happening.

"Maybe because I might just love you as much as you do?" He asked smiling sweetly. Your lips parted involuntarily, your face showed clear shock. You were unable to get any words out. He chuckled at your dumbfounded expression and without waiting for an answer, he closed the gap between you, capturing your lips with his own soft pillows. You didn't need to be told twice to kiss back, you have been waiting for it since forever.

His kiss was sweet and caring. He massaged your lips like noone has ever done before. You tried to keep yourself composed, but you just wanted to melt into his arms, enjoying this perfect moment, wishing for time to stop.

As he pulled away, he looked into your eyes with an unusual grin across his face. He seemed more confident than you have ever seen him. His cheerful expression forced a smile to spread across your face too, before he captured your lips once again, this time more passionately, more aggressively. You honestly felt like you were kissing two different people, but if anything, it just made you fall for him even more.

Your breath was running out on you. You pulled away from him and placed your forehead against his, breathing heavily.

"If you kiss me like that, I will fall for you even harder." You giggled lightly. He let out a wholehearted laughter, throwing his head backwards. You watched his carefree behaviour, which you haven't really seen before, but enjoyed even more.

"I really do love you." He spoke as his laughter died down.

"I love you too." You smiled at him lovingly, before capturing his lips again.

*

Years passed by and you and Remus were stronger than ever. After a couple of years he proposed to you and you married in a small, intimate ceremony. It was sweet and cozy, not the typical big wedding with big families, but you loved it even more. Remus was the only person you needed and he was right by your side.

As Remus was offered to go back to Hogwarts to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, you encouraged him to do it. You believed in him more than anyone and you wanted him to know that. You were always there to support him. Except when he made stupid decisions, but you always made sure to let him know.

You read about Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban and although you knew he was once a friend of Remus, you couldn't feel relaxed assuming Sirius would go after Remus. You knew all about their times as Marauders in Hogwarts and the relationship they had after they left school and joined the Order of the Phoenix, but he was a convict you were terrified to see around your husband.

One night, upon receiving a letter, you shot up from your bed to open the window for Remus' owl. You opened the letter and started reading with shaking hands, knowing he wouldn't mail you at such late hours, unless there was a problem. Your heart quickened as he explained how he forgot to take the Wolfsbane potions you have prepared for him. As you continued, your breath hitched, reading about his meeting with none other than Sirius Black. Your thoughts were swirling, terrified to read the letter any further. But you were glad you did. Remus explained everything from how Sirius was accused of the murder even though he was innocent and how Peter wasn't even dead, but lived in his rat form with the Weasley family. You finally felt relieved when you read Sirius escaped the Dementor's Kiss and he was in hiding.

On a warm summer night Remus invited Sirius over for a little dinner, to take back some of the time they have lost. Sirius might have been a bit late, but you didn't mind. You walked behind your husband and wrapped your arms around his torso, placing your face against his back. He got hold of your hand and gently pulled you in front of him.

"Thank you." He whispered with a loving smile, cupping your face in his big hands.

"For what?" You asked with a frown across your brows.

"For loving me. For being by my side. For supporting me. For being you." He breathed as he hinted a small peck on your lips. You smiled warmly at the love of your life, wrapping your arms tighter around him, hiding your face in his chest, enjoying the warmth his body provided.

The door bell rang and Remus hurried to open the door, engulfing his best friend in his arms. They exchanged a few words, before finally heading towards the dining room where Sirius stopped right in front of you with a huge grin across his face.

"So that's the infamous Y/N." He smirked. "I have been hearing a lot about you." He said and reached out for your hand. You accepted the offer and shook his hand.

"Welcome, Sirius." You smiled gently. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Indeed." He nodded in agreement. "You know, Moony..." He started as Remus led him to a chair at the table, while you prepared the food. "I never thought you would get married. You were always so reserved when it came to love. But honestly, I am glad you are happy. You deserve it." He smiled, patting his friend's shoulder proudly, which made your smile grow even wider.

You were happy that Remus got his long lost friend back. You were happy that you finally met Sirius. You were happy that you were having a relaxing dinner, even though war was coming your way. Things were chaotic outside, times were dark, but you were happy in that moment with your loving husband by your side and his best friend who he finally found his way back.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don't forget to like and/or reblog the chapter. Thank you :)

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[loveau]

Do Kyungsoo and the Case of the Missing Toothbrush

Genre: romance!!!! fluff!!!! toothrotting, if you will

Summary: Kyungsoo is normally an organized man who barely loses things in his own house, much less his own toothbrush. He sets out on an adventure with you to find it.

Word Count: 3,605

Summary: Sorry for the month hiatus!! I just finished summer school, so I should be free to write now :D! also asDGKSNGJG I HATE HOW RUSHED THIS IS LMAO (loved the concept, but the writing <.<)

Kyungsoo is a man who keeps his house orderly and clean, not for the sake of guests but rather for his own sake. He knows where everything is and how many of each thing he owns in his cupboards save for the amount of soap there’s left. For some reason he always runs low on that. He knows the contents of the fridge, the number of silverware in the drawers, and how many white socks he owns.

He sighed as he examined the cup by the edge of the sink once more. He also looked by the floor, in the mirror cabinet, and once more in the cup that only held one thing: your toothbrush. Kyungsoo scratched at his head, wondering where on earth his toothbrush could have gone. Had he left it by the side of the sink? It was a habit before he had moved in with you before you. You had seen him place his toothbrush on the side of the sink, promptly rushed out of the bathroom with frothy paste flying into your hair and come back with a silly ladybug mug you’d painted during a pottery date with him a year before. You rinsed quickly and threw your toothbrush into the mug before looking expectantly at him. Kyungsoo chuckled to himself when he looked at the face of the turtle (yes, not a ladybug yet painted like one) on the mug.

He sighed to himself and whispered to himself. “I suppose you won’t tell me where my toothbrush went, will you?” He braced himself against the sink and looked in the mirror. With the door left open, he could see into your shared bedroom where you were sprawled out in the middle. He’d been woken up early and on the floor on a day off thanks to your kicking around. Making his way out of the bathroom, Kyungsoo shook your awake and smiled endearingly at your tousled hair. “Wake up, we have a mystery to solve.”

“Last time you said that, it was you who drank all of the milk and not me.” You grumbled. You tried falling back asleep but decided that the hairs going into your mouth wouldn’t let you. “What happened?”

“Apparently, Toothy and Mrs. Paste have been separated. Her husband has gone missing.” You shot up, wide awake and rubbing sleep out of your eyes. Kyungsoo smiled once more at the silliness.

“No way! You didn’t drop him or throw him away, did you? We just bought new toothbrushes last month!” Kyungsoo followed you as you rushed out of the bed and soon caught you as you tripped as your foot caught the blanket. The adrenaline from rushing to save you from an embarrassing faceplant did nothing to combat the swelling oh his heart as he watched you play into his silly antics. “You don’t suppose he ran off with Dawn? The dish soap from a couple blocks down?”

“Why’d he be there?” You shrugged, soon deciding to pick up your own toothbrush and get ready for the day.

“Where is your toothbrush anyways? I saw you put it in the cup last night. And I swear on my life I was sleeping like a rock at the bottom of a lake, so there’s no way I had anything to do with it.” Your boyfriend chuckled at that. He affirmed your dead point and then stated that still doesn’t explain his toothbrush going missing.

“You think the cat took it?”

“We don’t have a cat.”

“Ghost cat?” A little scoff emitted from Kyungsoo’s lips and he left as you wrapped up your routine. By the time you were done fixing your hair, he came back with a roll of… police tape? “Where did that come from?”

He started blocking off the corner of the sink where the cup was. “Remember, Baekhyun’s Halloween party? He made me buy some of the decorations, so I just took back what was left over.”

“And you’re using it on a case of your missing toothbrush?”

Kyungsoo smirked at you and tapped your hip. “I could also wrap this on your legs to see if we can solve a case of your missing pants?” You smacked his hand in a flustered manner and stormed into the bedroom.

“I’ve complained before that it gets hot! Doesn’t help when you’re a radiating oven even in the summer.” Kyungsoo let a laugh out at that and waited for you to come back in wearing shorts. “Did you check the trash? The cupboard?”

“Already did. Looks like we have a case to solve.” You looked at him expectantly. Kyungsoo grabbed your hand and led you into the kitchen. Before he could open his mouth to suggest anything, you cut him off.

“I highly doubt there’s anything amidst the forks and our bajillion cups.” You kissed him once to make sure he didn’t try to rebut. “And there’s nothing in the cereal either.”

“I was going to suggest the fruits but looks like you’re way ahead of me, partner.”

Shaking your head, you tugged your hand from his grip and planted it on your hips. “What has gotten into you this morning? Normally it’s me starting the games while you want to cuddle and hope you can wrangle me into bed so you can ‘surprise’ me with breakfast.”

“Let’s just say I woke up on the right side of the bed.” You cocked an eyebrow. “Or the floor. You could be a professional MMA fighter with that foot.” You giggled and Kyungsoo led you closer to the cupboards with a gentle grip on your elbow. With another cocked eyebrow, Kyungsoo answered your unasked question. “Why don’t we check the cupboards anyways? In case Toothy really did run off with the dish soap.”

For no reason at all, you decided to play along with your boyfriend’s strange antics. This was definitely a first. Yes, he was capable of pulling off pranks. Yes, it wasn’t frequent. But the times that he did decide to joke around he never kept up the charade this long. Especially when it took so much effort and work.

“This isn’t some plot to get me to rearrange the kitchen like I kept saying I’ve been wanting to do, right?”

“Of course not. We’re looking for Toothy. He’s gone missing and Mrs. Paste is getting worried.” Kyungsoo was searching diligently within the cabinet with the bowls while you hesitantly moved around the pots and pans in search for a familiar green toothbrush. You weren’t sure how long he was going to keep it up, much less how long you were willing to play along with it before wrangling the truth out of him by offering to do the laundry for the next three weeks.

“Why do we have to look in the kitchen?”

Kyungsoo put away the rest of the spatulas he had rearranged. “You’re right. We got ahead of ourselves.” He sat down at the dining table and motioned you over. “To do this properly, you need to take statements and questions.” To make a point, Kyungsoo took out a detective’s cap that you recognized from a couple Halloweens ago. He set the bag back on the chair it was originally hiding on.

“You really went hard with this one,” you said while he adjusted the cap on your head. He gave you a satisfied smile, you’re not sure if it was from making the clunky hat look good on your head or with how themed this was. “Do I have to?” Kyungsoo’s response was to pout at you and grasp your hands pleadingly. You bit your lip and stamped your foot before giving in. “Fine.”

“Love you.”

“You owe me dinner tonight. My favorite.” Kyungsoo agreed with a laugh while rubbing the tops of your knuckles. “So… when’s the last time you saw Toothy?”

He pretended to think hard, even moving a hand to his temple to scratch at it. If this were any other time, you’d compliment his acting skills. For now, you were patiently waiting to see where Kyungsoo would take this. “Well, I had just finished showering and doing my nightly routine. I briefly said goodnight to my beautiful girlfriend, who was already asleep before I got to the bed. I mean, can you believe her? I did the sheets so they’d be clean, put away all the dishes, and even put her phone away for her because she fell asleep watching those cheesy 5 minute DIY videos. You’d think after all I did for her she’d at least wait for me to get into bed so I can get my well-deserved cuddles-”

“Your point, Soo.” You lightly smacked him on the back of his head. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling endearingly at your silly boyfriend, though.

“Anyways, after I checked up on my wonderful yet ungrateful girlfriend-“ Smack. “-I love her so much. I went back into the bathroom to turn off the lights, but I guess I didn’t check up on Toothy since I had placed him back where he was. I did notice the window was open by the shower, though.”

“You’re telling me that your toothbrush snuck out the window?”

“Or he was taken.”

“Why would someone just take your toothbrush?”

“My thoughts exactly! He must have snuck off when he had the opportunity.” Kyungsoo stood up from his chair and took the hat from your head. He smoothed your hair down for a second, but it didn’t matter after you were whisked away into the bedroom. “Let’s get dressed. We have a toothbrush to find.”

“What?” Before you knew it, your boyfriend was chucking clothes at you. Any other time you would have admired the view of him undressing, but you didn’t see why you’d have to be led along a string of mystery on a day off. “Kyungsoo, after the four years I’ve known you and two and a half we’ve lived together, you’ve never been this raring to go so excitedly.”

After getting a simple long sleeve over his head, Kyungsoo turned back and gave you a fond smile. “Not even when I woke you up to take you to the river when I heard there were baby ducklings?”

“It was 1pm and I was the one who told you. It’s…” You glanced at the clock while changing into the clothes he’d thrown you, completely engrossed in your conversation to realize you were still going along with it. “It’s almost 8:30am right now and I still have no idea what we’re doing.”

“We, my dear, are going on an adventure.”

“To look for your toothbrush?”

He kissed your forehead and gave you a kiss. “You got it.”

Your boyfriend took you by the hand and led you out the door. The two of you spent some time walking. Every now and then, the two of you passed by another couple or parent with their child. You said hi to every kid who would look back at you, and one of the kids informed you there was a birthday party and how excited they were to eat cake. Kyungsoo merely watched you interact with the kids and the occasional dog with clear adoration in his eyes. It took a while to walk into the block where a bunch of shops were, and you kept yourself from window shopping while Kyungsoo walked on.

“You know, we can go into the stores if you wanted.” You looked back at your boyfriend with suspicion in your eyes.

“Aren’t we supposed to be looking for Toothy?” Kyungsoo smiled at brought your interlocked hands to press a kiss on the back of your hand.

“We can go anywhere you want to. You’re leading the investigation. Where do you think Toothy went?” A hesitant hum sounded from your lips and Kyungsoo took this as initiative to bring you into a little bakery. “Why in here?”

“Toothy always had a knack for fighting off those sweets. Maybe he has a grudge against them and wanted to fight them off?” Kyungsoo began perusing the lineup of pastries and cakes along the display case. You slowly turned your eyes to the case as well, occasionally looking questionably at the man next to you as he spent his time browsing the selection. Eventually you pointed at a cute looking strawberry slice of cake and Kyungsoo bought it for you. When you walked out, you were feeding bits of it to Kyungsoo. His smug smile only grew when the two of you finished the slice and walked into more stores.

The first couple of stores he coaxed you into them with similar points as the bakery one. You began to wonder whether or not Kyungsoo’s plan for the day was to take you shopping. However, you spent most of the time browsing and when you were done Kyungsoo took you around to another store to do the same thing. You didn’t spend much, focusing mainly on what your boyfriend was up to today. Save for the cake and a couple of snacks, there wasn’t much out of your wallet. After exiting a little sandwich store the both of you stopped during lunch break (to which Kyungsoo claimed you needed to replenish your energy after using your brains deducing where Toothy would have gone), you brought up the idea of going grocery shopping early.

“Perfect. I don’t see why we shouldn’t. Perhaps it’ll bring us one step closer to Toothy.”

“I can’t believe you’re proudly saying that in public. Last time I brought it up and you had friends around, they asked if you called the mouthwash Lizzie Terine.”

“Well, we have a mystery to solve, don’t we?” You were going to comment further until you saw your boyfriend take out a notepad. A glance at it would let anyone see that it was a grocery list with little checkmarks, circles, and arrows. However, upon further inspection you saw that the little “grocery list” did include ingredients for cooking and other knick knacks. They also looked like…

“You aren’t seriously taking notes for the case of your missing toothbrush?”

Kyungsoo looks at you as if you’re the one who’s been acting weird all day. “Of course I would! Did you want to see them?” You can’t really say no when the notes were shoved into your face.

Some lines of the list were perfectly normal, with things such as eggs or more laundry detergent. Other things read: ‘Cookies… Toothy had a particularly hard time battling them. Maybe a grudge.’ Or ‘Dental floss -> Toothy might be at an old friend’s family reunion.’ You felt your eyebrow twitch at the notes and sighed to yourself. This was going on much longer than you thought, and it was kind of getting old.

“Kyungsoo-“

“Let’s go shopping then!” He cheered and tugged you forward, making sure to pocket his notepad for later. By the time the both of you got to the store, you decided to focus solely on shopping instead of playing with Kyungsoo like you’d been all day. Kyungsoo didn’t notice that you would shift gears anytime he brought up the “case”, and if he did, he didn’t bother to make it shown.

“We need more seasonings, right?” Kyungsoo hummed. He checked the list and nodded while reaching up on the shelves of the market to snag a couple bottles and inspect them side by side. At this moment, Kyungsoo looked totally normal and not your strange boyfriend who went bonkers over a toothbrush. Well, except for the fake toy pipe he brought along that went with the detective’s outfit. He shuffled the pipe in his mouth and you weren’t sure whether it was attractive or goofy. After he chose a seasoning, Kyungsoo dropped it in the basket and walked to the next aisle with his hand in yours.

“Can’t we just use the spare pack of toothbrushes we bought?” Kyungsoo squeezed your hand and a teasing smile rested upon his lips. “That way you can stop fussing over… Toothy.”

“You used them to paint one of those DIY projects you saw on social media, again. Remember?” Thinking back on it, he was right. You had been hunched over some painting project and were using the bristles of the new toothbrushes to spray a small amount of paint to look like stars. You ended up having to clean your sleeves and table afterwards, but Kyungsoo decided to hang up your mini painting in the hall anyways.

“Ah, I remember now,” you said and took two packs of new toothbrushes to put in the basket. “We really need to invest in one of the electric brushes, though.” Kyungsoo hummed and asked if you wanted one. When you shrugged in response, Kyungsoo spent time perusing the ones available at the store until he decided you guys would just order one online. For now, the plastic toothbrushes from the shelves would do just fine.

Kyungsoo is silent the rest of the way home. He doesn’t even bring up Toothy like he had been doing all day. You’re unsure what caused this sudden shift in behavior. Before he was so insistent on making you play along, but now he looked nervous.

“I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re worried about.” His attention snapped to yours and his furrowed eyebrows shot up instead. “You look nervous. If it’s because of the game you’d been playing for so long, don’t worry. I was just confused and frustrated why I wasn’t getting answers, but I’m not mad at you because I think it’s dumb.”

Your boyfriend only nods in response and returns his gaze back ahead of him. He takes his hand from yours to wipe it quickly against his pant leg. It’s sweaty. You wanted to continue reassuring him but decided against it since you were pretty sure your last phrase went in one ear and out the other. When the two of you got to the door, Kyungsoo paused.

“I love you, you know.”

“I know.” You were the one now feeling nervous. Kyungsoo’s multiple and drastic changes in behavior made you curious yet afraid for what it all meant. Kyungsoo gave you a warm kiss on the cheek and headed inside. He set the bags on the counter and twiddled with his thumbs, wondering which bag to unload first. You took the bag with the toiletries inside of it and left Kyungsoo to unload the food. “I’ll do this one. That way I don’t have to rearrange the fridge.”

He hummed and turned stiffly towards the fridge. This time, you were the one who gave a soft kiss to the cheek. You hoped that was enough to calm his nerves so that he would tell you what was bugging him earlier. As you headed down the hall, you missed the way Kyungsoo whipped his head around to watch you leave.

“Alright, let’s get you out of your plastic prison, Toothy 2.0.” You opened up the plastic bag to dig around for the little case. Looking up at the ladybug mug your own toothbrush resided in, you paused your actions. “Kyungsoo!” He called back from the kitchen, and you heard the clanging of items in the fridge. “Your toothbrush is in here. It’s in the cup!”

You took another close look at the cup and saw that yes, indeed there was a toothbrush sitting in the cup alongside yours. In fact, you knew without a doubt that it was Kyungsoo’s. You hesitantly reached out to it, wondering if you had gone crazy over your boyfriend’s weird antics and started hallucinating about the toothbrush. Once your fingers reached it, you noticed that it was in fact real. Kyungsoo finally joined you in the bathroom, a telltale sign by the shuffling of his socks against the floor. Before you could grab it and show it to him, Kyungsoo pulled his toothbrush out for you.

“How did you miss it? I swear it was there before we left.” Kyungsoo fiddled with the toothbrush for a while. You noticed him tug at it and he hid whatever he pulled off of it in his closed fist.

“Toothy never went missing.” Kyungsoo still couldn’t meet your eyes since the walk and he chewed at his bottom lip. “I… asked him to run an errand for me.”

“Kyungsoo, I’m still so confused. You’ve been acting so strange all morning and then you couldn’t even talk to me. What’s going on?” He took a deep breath and steadied himself, deciding that he wouldn’t let his nerves get to him. It was all or nothing now.

“The errand… was to hide something while I took you out today.” He now brought his eyes to your face. The depths of your eyes always took his breath away, especially in that moment. He felt like he was drowning in you. He cleared his throat and then put Toothy back in the cup. Once his hand was free, he filled it with your fingers and laced them with his own.

Patiently, you watched. He licked his lips nervously once more. Soon, he was on his knees. Or rather… one. He brought his closed fist up and in between his fingers there was a gleam. This time it was your breath that was unsteady, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at Kyungsoo either for your eyes were focused solely on the ring.

“Kyungsoo…”

“I was too nervous to do this myself… so my trusty companion helped me out for today.” Your boyfriend took one last breath and looked at you with a confidence that stilled time. “So… will you marry me?”

[luciferloveschloe]

50 Cliché Prompts: 27

27. Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second

this is part of my 1k celebration! i invited people to send in prompts.

okay, so, the fact that i need to explain this highlights how long it took me to write it. in my defense, i have never written a longer one shot, and there is fake dating and pining and feelings and a bit of smut thrown in for flare. enjoy!

[deckerstar, 4.5k words, set early in s2, fake dating, first time, porn with feelings]

of holy things

“Ms. Decker?”

Lucifer’s bartender – Patrick, she remembers – slides a tumbler to where she’s taken a seat at the bar, perched somewhat uncomfortably.

“Oh no, I didn’t order any–“

“Ms. Decker, please.” Patrick interrupts her. “You do know you’re at the very top of our guest list, right?”

Oh. Oh.

She can’t help but glance in Lucifer’s direction, who’s currently deep in conversation with Maze, his right-hand-ninja-demon-bartender-whatever, pouring over what appear to be business records. He’s in a dark ensemble today, hair just the tiniest bit ruffled from their work, and he’s smirking at something Maze said. It suits him, all of it.

The very top, huh?

“Well, let me just…”

She makes to scramble for her wallet, but Patrick only shakes his head at her, chuckling softly.

“Do you want me to lose my job, Detective Decker?”

At that, she takes the offered drink with a grateful, earnest smile, tipping it briefly in salute to him before turning in her seat to face her partner’s club in full swing.

The stakeout had been a complete bust, she can admit that, but it had also been in close proximity to Lux. Lucifer had offered his penthouse to regroup and go over the case files again, Dan had Trixie for the night, and Chloe had agreed to his plan fast enough not to second-guess herself.

As she watches the ecstatic dancing, she starts to relax. Tonight’s DJ is clearly talented, the base surprisingly isn’t too overwhelming for her, and Patrick has mixed her a whiskey sour, she recognizes, which is– Absolutely delicious, really. Tart, sweet, perfectly balanced – and probably also ridiculously expensive. But, guest list.

Who knew having a night club owner for a partner came with such perks?

Said night club owner is still talking with Maze, though, and Chloe hopes he–

“Hello, beautiful.”

Oh, no.

The man stands right in front of her, and it’s too late to turn back to the bar again. Someone trying to flirt with her is the last thing she needs tonight. She opens her mouth to say so, but gets interrupted.

Rude.

“I’m George, by the way. I’ve been watching you since you came in. You’re such a pretty little thing.”

George is in his late forties, by her guess, and passably attractive. He’s also condescending, drunk, all but shouting in her ear and standing way too close for her comfort.

“Sorry, but I’m not in the mood for–“

She halts because he’s just put his right hand on her thigh, clammy fingers reaching toward her ass.

No. Definitely no.

“What’s your name, sweetheart? Tell me while we’re dancing, alright?”

Both of his hands clutch at her skin now, insistently, and she’s helpless at the instinctual well of fear inside of her. But not helpless against him.

Her fingers find her badge easily, and she reckons it’ll be enough to scare George into–

“What’s going on here?”

Lucifer’s voice is sharp and cold next to her, and she breathes easier instantly. George’s hands slip from her legs, and his gaze flicks between them in confusion. She knows the look Lucifer has fixed on him right now, knows the deadly calm, disquieting focus of eyes that sparkle for her, and she loves that it makes the other man squirm.

This is so much more satisfying than just flashing her badge at him, and – hold on, jerk – it’s about to get even better.

“Oh, Lucifer! Let me introduce you to George here. George, meet Lucifer, my boyfriend.”

“Boyfr–“

She elbows him to get him to shut up, then leaps from the bar stool and wraps her arm tight around his waist, pulling him to her.

Lucifer tries to sputter more, but when she looks up at him, he swallows and recovers enough to put his arm around her shoulders, the sensation somehow featherlight. Maybe she should be more shocked at how nice his touch feels in contrast, how right.

“I– I… I didn’t realise–“

George’s stammering is ridiculous, the crimson blush on his face betrays his embarrassment, and the way he tries not to cower speaks of how effective Lucifer’s psycho tricks are. Chloe fervently hopes their show will be cringy enough for George to stop him from bothering anyone else tonight.

“Oh, it’s a fresh thing,” Lucifer beams, now clearly onboard with her plan to cause maximum mischief.

She can’t not grin at how giddy he looks, and raises up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He smells of luxurious cologne, maybe sandalwood, and something that’s just inexplicably him, something warm and intoxicating that makes her want to trail her lips down his neck to mouth at his collarbone.

What happened to being repulsed on a chemical level, exactly?

Her kiss probably turns out less chaste and fake than she intended, and when Lucifer’s smirk slips off his face and his eyes find hers, fingers hovering over where her lips were, she fumbles.

“Babe, let’s… Grab our stuff and head to the penthouse, yeah?”

She turns to gather her bag and the casefiles without waiting for an answer. When she’s facing Lucifer again, he nods at her, a cheeky little smile curling his mouth for her eyes only. They only spare George a glance when they leave, walking closely. Lucifer’s palm rests at the small of her back, barely touching, warm, soothing.

It stays there until they arrive at the elevator, when Lucifer withdraws it to punch in the code. Chloe immediately mourns its absence, but the doors slide open for them and Lucifer gestures for her to go in first.

His eyes are intent on her, his expression uncharacteristically open, almost insecure. There’s wonderment there as well, and awe. She smiles at him in return, unguarded and joyful because she wants to, and maybe because she’s just a little awed herself.  

–

Chloe’s smile warms him like the sun, but he’s still apprehensive, and he can’t shake the image of that dullard’s hand on her thigh from his mind. The doors close behind them, and Chloe sags against the wall across from him, relieved. Or deflated, rather?

“Detective, are you alright though? I should have noticed that insolent, boorish nitwit sooner, I apologise­–“

“Lucifer, no. I’m okay! There’s nothing to apologise for. I was just about to show him my badge, actually, but when you showed up… Well, I hope what we did will be more effective.”

Oh.

What they did.

Nothing, really. But he still feels a band of warmth where she’d pulled him into her side, and his skin still prickles where she’d pressed her lips to his cheek. It never felt like this before. Why does it feel different? What is she doing to him?

And why, why can’t he stop thinking about how her body felt underneath his hands?

(Soft, bare ivory instead of blazers and jeans and suits. His fingers wander, and her body yields to his, breathless sighs taking the place of clever quips and banter. She’s his Detective, she’ll always be, but here, in the gentle darkness of sins and holy things, here with him, she’s only Chloe. They’re wrapped around each other, flesh and bones and soul, and she moans in his ear. His name has never sounded sweeter than on her tongue, and he groans and he kisses her and–)

“Lucifer?”

He clears his throat, and it’s too loud in the small space, jarring. She’s studying him with her sea foam eyes, curious, and she has no right to be so beautiful in her simple white blouse and black jeans. His heart still thumps in his chest, and he needs to touch her, to be touched by her again, so very badly.

The Devil, tempted.

“Well… Well, I’m sure it was. Effective, that is. But I’ll text Maze to chuck him out anyway. There’s no room for miscreants like him in Lux, after all.”

He unlocks his phone to do just that, and he’s glad for the task, the distraction it provides him.

“Oh, that’s… That’s good. Thank you, Lucifer.”

He pauses and nods, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably.

There’s that rush coursing through him again, this exquisite high he’s never quite managed to recreate since, no matter how many of his favourite substances and bedfellows he’s been combining.

And it’s… It’s just her, he realises with sudden, aching clarity. Her, and how she… The way he feels when–

“Lucifer, are you okay? I hope I didn’t overstep earlier. I mean, I…”

He wants to claw at his collar, flee, needs to kiss her until he can’t breathe anymore.

Chloe…

How come she knows him so well already? How come she sees right through him when he’s spent literal eons perfecting his masks, his charades? All the walls he built in loneliness and despair, the last defences meant to protect him from more hurt and pain, they crumble and give easily before her.

Why does he want them to?

The elevator dings, and he’s saved by the bell.

“Nonsense, Detective. You know me, always up for some good old-fashioned roleplay! Now, tell me what drink I can pour you, darling.”

–

He’s oddly quiet next to her. So far, she’s counted several excellent opportunities for a bit of Luciferish commentary, but he’s used none of them. His contributions to the conversation are thoughtful, but clipped, any attempts at jokes half-hearted at best.

By now, it has worry eating at her insides, the unsettling feeling slowly replacing the strange euphoria from before, from when he’d touched her.

Although the question is on the tip of her tongue, she doesn’t ask him if he’s fine. Again.

He is focused on her though, there’s no doubt about that. His eyes follow the movements of her hands where she spreads and rearranges the evidence on the coffee table in front of them, and every so often, he nods in agreement to something she has said.

When he takes a sip of his brandy, she doesn’t acknowledge the slight tremor of his fingers.

“So, that’s why I think you were right, yesterday. We tailed the wrong guy after all.”

A statement as rare as this should earn her a gleeful, exuberant “Detective!” at the very least. Instead, he only smiles distractedly, barely even looking at her, and gets up from the chair across from her abruptly.

O…kay?

He starts to pace in the open space of the penthouse, and although she should probably gather her things and leave so he can sort out… whatever this is, she feels compelled to watch him. To stay with him.

He doesn’t seem to notice her concerned staring at all, his graceful long lines tense in a way they usually aren’t, his eyes distant and his mouth set in a hard line. It’s such a far cry from his bubbly joy from earlier, and she doesn’t understand.

A predator, she thinks, but scared and backed into a corner.

What could possibly unnerve him like that?

He drags a trembling hand through his hair, the hair that’s always meticulously and perfectly styled, and it’s all wrong.

Maybe she can get him to talk by dragging him back to their case? A little bit of projecting never hurt nobody, either.

“So, Lucifer, what did you think about–“

“Can I touch you?”

“What?”

–

No. No, no, no, no, no.

“I… I’m sorry Detective, I didn’t… I‘m actually not feeling so well tonight? We should… We should go through the files at the precinct tomorrow. Alright, see you then!”

“No Lucifer, wait. What did you mean by that?”

Her eyes are bright and sharp when she’s focussed on him like she is now. Detecting mode on. She’s raw and unbridled energy, always hunting for the deeper truth, ready to pounce, ready to deliver justice, ready to bring whoever stands in her way to their knees.

She doesn’t know that before her, he’d sink to his knees willingly.

Chloe arches her eyebrows at his silence, and it’s a visceral effort to tear his thoughts away from her beauty.

“I– I just… When you–“

He has to stop and releases a shaky breath, feeling unsteady and disturbed by all this want, this pathetic longing that Chloe surely will have no need for.

“Lucifer, it’s alright, talk to me. We both… You make me vulnerable as well, remember? What do you need?”

He can’t lie to her.

“I– I want to touch you again, Detective. It felt… I know we only made believe, but I just–“

“Okay.”

It’s his turn to gape, now.

“What?”

Chloe tilts her head, considering. This can’t be a smirk she’s trying to hide. Can it?

“Wellll, I seem to have slept with my neck at a terrible angle last night, and my shoulders and back have been killing me for weeks now. I think… I could do with a back rub, actually. So…?”

She beckons him with sparkling eyes, smiling knowingly, and he’s helplessly lost.

“I– At once, darling.”

He crosses over to her, and tries to joke about massage oil and his comfortable bed, but it all gets stuck in his throat. He settles gingerly behind her on the couch eventually, his heart beating wildly and his stomach in knots, feeling as though he has never even touched a woman in his entire life.

And is this… Is this really what she desires? He has no way of knowing, will probably ruin things between them, and–

Chloe cranes her neck to look back at him, nothing but warmth in her gaze.

“Stop overthinking and worrying, okay? I want– I want this, too.”

He nods, completely enthralled by all her mercy, but she turns to face forward again, lifting her hair away from her shoulders. Just like that, her soft skin is bared before him, and he drinks in the graceful lines of her exposed neck and back. Without even intending too, his fingers card through her hair, carefully smoothing it to one side.

She sighs, and he brushes his fingertips over the expanse of her back, his hands coming to rest lightly atop her shoulders.

He knows it’s no small gift to have earned the trust of his Detective, and he’s not sure if he deserves it, but fuck, he’ll give his all to be what she needs, to give her everything she could ever want. He doesn’t understand his feelings, any of it, but he understands desire, and it has never been clearer to him what it is that he desires. Uncaring Devil façade be damned.

He starts with gentle pressure, massaging her with all the care and skill he possesses, and it is exactly as exhilarating as he thought it would be. She’s melting into him, her body welcoming and pliant under his hands, and he can’t quite believe she allows him to touch her like that.

When he tries digging his knuckles in a tad more forcefully, her surprised, pleased moan sends blood rushing towards his groin. He shivers, does it again, and–

“Yes, Lucifer, just like that. Right there, yes.”

This unfamiliar, all-consuming need is clawing out of him again, and it’s all he can do to clench his jaw, flex his fingers, and comply with her demand.

It’s not just that he can finally touch her, either. He can smell the nuances of her perfume, her shampoo, even her fabric softener. He feels her warmth and the rush of her blood, the vibrancy of her soul against his fingers. She should be just one simple human, but her life is more precious to him than he can even fathom, and everything about her calls to him like nothing, like no one before her ever has.

He continues to sweep his hands over her body, kneading down alongside the vertebrae of her spine, and her sounds of pleasure get him more drunk than all his booze ever managed.

When he’s arrived at her waist again, he stills her hands on her body and lets his forehead rest gently against her back. His breathing is heavy by now, but so is hers. He’s still not sure what they’re doing, but he has to ask before he goes insane. Slowly he moves his hands so that he’s cradling her waist, embracing her more fully. Surely she’ll flee now?

“Is this okay?”

To his surprise, Chloe covers his hands with her own, even pulls his fingers under her blouse suggestively.

“Yeah, Lucifer.”

He swallows hard, and finally dares to press his lips to her neck, peppering the skin he kneaded earlier with soft, open-mouthed kisses. There’s a small intake of breath, then Chloe sighs and arches her back as if to give him more access. He’s dizzy from it all, high on the sounds he can elicit from her, finally.

His fingers drift upward over her ribs of their own volition, but just below the temptingly full swell of her breasts, he hesitates.

“Chloe… Please, please tell me to stop when you need me to. I– I don’t want you to regret anything.”

To regret me.

Almost abruptly, she turns in his arms again. Her eyes focus on his for a second, intent and searching, then she drops her gaze to his mouth. She wets her lips, cradles his face with both of her hands, and claims his mouth with her own.

He groans against her lips, helplessly, and finally, gently cups her breasts. As if she set out to drive him mad specifically, she wears a simple lacy T-shirt bra under her blouse. He can feel everything through its material. When he flicks his thumbs over her stiff nipples, Chloe whines against his lips, nearly breaking off their kiss, and fuck, has he ever been harder in his life?

He takes his time to explore her, thoroughly, committing her shape and feel to his memory in case she decides never to grant him this again, and laughs when Chloe bites down on the swell of his lower lip.

“Lucifer,” she breathes against him, and it sounds even better than it did in his fantasy. She looks as dazed and unbelieving as he is, but her eyes are frantic with need. He wants nothing more than to please her, in whatever way he can.

“Let me take care of you, love. Please.”

She nods, and he slowly turns her in his arms. She leans fully against him now, not an inch of space between their bodies, and he notices the way her heart races.

He dreads the second she’ll leave him.

Almost timidly he lets his hands trace over her body until they’re resting at the tops of her thighs. When his hands hover over her fly, his resolve wavers again. Chloe saves him, pulling her zipper down quickly and wriggling, adorably, to give him more space.

She couldn’t state more boldly that she wants this, now, and the Devil might just come in his pants like a horny teenager.

Only their breathing fills the quiet as he slowly reaches to cup her over her panties, and they groan together at the first connection, as he realizes how drenched she is from what they’ve been doing.

“You kill me,” he whispers against the shell of her ear, then pushes her underwear aside because he has absolutely zero restraint left.

He’s allowed to touch, and she’s swollen and dripping wet. For him. He mouths at her neck, wraps his hand around her throat lightly when she throws her head back, and it’s intoxicating, all of it.

It would almost certainly be embarrassingly easy to get her off in this state. (Hell, he can barely keep himself in check, and he has eons of practice.) A few determined strokes, a handful of precise circles around her clit, and she’d be gone, he reckons. But this is not at all what she deserves, not at all what he wants to give her, now.

Instead, he takes his sweet time, caressing every inch of her, spreading her wetness with fingertips and knuckles, worshipping her silky skin. He keeps his touches deliberately featherlike, as if anything more would shatter her, but he knows it’s him that’s fragile, and he finds he’s not ashamed of it anymore.

She’s restless in his arms, writhing against his body, and he’s sure he bruises her hip with his left hand, but she doesn’t mind, keeping it there by pressing her own above it, linking their fingers together tightly.

Like this, only teasing and exploring, he brings her to the edge.

He senses when she’s almost there, and it’s glorious. She’s trembling and twitching, gifting him with quiet little whimpers he will treasure forever, and grips his thigh with enough force he has to bite back a grunt. (It hurts, and isn’t that marvellous in itself?)

But this is not how he wants to do this, and so he withdraws his fingers at what is possibly the last possible moment before she reaches her peak.

“Fuck, Lucifer– Why did you stop?!”

He almost feels sorry at the desperate lilt of her voice, almost. But pleasure is one of the few things he’s good at, and he knows this will be worth it in the end.

“I know, I know. Fuck, you feel so good, darling. Trust me when I say I know what I’m doing. I’ll stop your pleasure one more time and then I’ll make you come, I promise. If you don’t think it was worth it after that, you can throw me out of my own house, you have my word.”

She chuckles weakly, thankfully, then throws her head back again when he wastes no time and pushes one finger inside her.

“Ugh, Lucifer… More like you’ll do– Fuck. You’ll do my paperwork for a month.”

He smiles against her skin, both because of their banter and at the thought of him actually doing paperwork. He’s glad she doesn’t make a real deal out of it, but then, he trusts his abilities, doesn’t he?

She gasps when he finds her G-spot, and the way she clenches around him makes his eyes roll back in his head. He’s not sure which colour they are anymore. But all that matters is her pleasure, and he lets himself get lost in it.

He brings his thumb to massage her folds, all the sensitive spots he discovered earlier, but is careful to avoid direct contact with her clit. She keens in his arms, moaning openly, and he watches every beautiful reaction play across her face. He never wants this to stop.

A second finger follows the first, and he grazes sensitive nerves over and over, makes her grind against his fingers inside her. She pulses rhythmically around him, and the feel of her heat and strength maddens him.

“Lucifer, please, it’s so good…”

She almost sounds delirious by now, and it’s a conscious effort not to come just from this, just from seeing her carefree and lost in pleasure like this.

“Hold on for me, love, once more–“

He removes his hands from her body, and she whines and whips her head around immediately, crashing her lips to his with a fierce intensity that takes his breath away.

“Make me come already,” she demands against his mouth, and he groans helplessly.

He keeps her like she is now, wanting to watch when she finally falls apart, and returns his hands to her. With his left hand, he cups her breast, teasing a nipple with insistent, back-and-forth-strokes that earn him an exhale and hands fisting in his hair.

Two fingers of his right hand slip inside her again, snug against her G-spot, and he’s holding back nothing. Finally, he presses his thumb directly against her clit, in rough, dirty circles, just the way she needs now, and never lets his eyes leave hers.

After all the build-up, she’s completely lost in it, her face soon scrunching up in sensation beautifully and her fingers bruising his skin. He lets his forehead fall against hers and gasps with her, committing everything to his memory.

Her orgasm starts in little tremors and ripples across her body. Tangled up with her as he is, he feels them all, feels her clench around his fingers like a vice grip. Her mouth falls open, her eyes press shut, and finally, with his thumb circling her relentlessly, she freezes up in his arms and comes with a wail that cuts right through him.

He swallows it with his mouth, and he kisses her tenderly, smiling against her lips as she rides his hand through her peak, clinging to his body and whimpering softly.

Only when she goes limp and boneless in his arms he carefully removes his hands from her, breaking their kiss and opening his eyes to take her in, flushed and euphoric with pleasure. It’s the most beautiful, rapturous sight.

He brings his fingers to his lips because he has to, and he groans at her taste in his mouth, revels in the breath she sucks in.

“Fucking– Shit, Lucifer. You really had every right to brag all this time, didn’t you?”

She’s breathless and gorgeous and happy, and he always wants to be the reason she is.

“Course I did, darling,” he retorts automatically, but he can’t help the shit-eating grin, and he can’t help how not-unaffected he sounds.

Her smile dims a little, though, and it’s ridiculous how fast he panics. If she leaves now, he’ll be ruined forever.

“I– I know this is maybe not the right time, but I just… I guess I need to know if I’m just another notch in your bedpost, you know? If I am, if we are, I don’t know­, more than– Ah shit, forget I said anything.”

She leans in to kiss and distract him, but he stops her with a finger, understanding perfectly for once.

Chloe couldn’t be farther away from being just another notch in his bedpost, he realises. She is light and everything good that’s been missing from his existence. His heart stutters inside his chest, but the thought that someone could hold power over him loses its terror when he’s looking at her, when her emerald eyes shine like they do now.

“You are, Chloe. We are,” he vows, and it’s the absolute truth.

Voicing it aloud lends his devotion a shape, and he knows the word humans would use to describe his feelings. Some dark part of him still scoffs at the notion of him ever being able to love someone, much less being loved in return, but nevertheless, he knows it’s love that spreads like fire in his veins, that settles like a comforting weight in his chest, that floods his battered heart with life and his soul with hope.

“Really? Oh, thank God,” Chloe mumbles before she kisses him again, and not even the mention of his father can take this giddy happiness away from him.

This is new. This is terrifying. But it is good, and this time, he cannot wait to fall.

“Lucifer,” Chloe breathes against his lips, and there is nothing but her.

[overwhelmedbyskeletons]

When Nothing Moves

I can’t sleep. The sun is too bright.

I started this job cleaning out fruit slicers all night a month ago and I haven’t had a good nights sleep since. Every night filled with tossing and turning, trying to find a way to comfortably shield my eyes from the suns blinding light. Working a graveyard hours job meant I was sleeping all day and working all night. The cruddy curtains in my room were doing fuck-all for blocking out sunlight. Some of the guys at my job that were friendly enough told me to buy some blackout curtains and it will make my room completely dark, even with the sun beating down and hopefully it will help me get some good rest. after my work week ended, in my car I ordered that highest-reviewed blackout curtains I could find online and they were due to arrive at my apartment the next morning, in seven hours.

I woke the next day to a knock on my door and a shine directly into my eyes. I could have rearranged my entire room several times and still wouldn’t be able find a way to not get work on my tan while I sleep. I hurried to the door to get the package and gave a wave to the delivery driver before they made it down the stairs out of view.

Putting up the curtains was smooth, even though they were quite heavy material. My biggest fear was that they would pull the curtain rod from the wall, but that worry didn’t last long as the void that my bedroom had become was a sight for sore and tired eyes. I poured myself a glass of water in the kitchen before sitting down on my bed. Before I could take a sip, the comfort of my sheets began to sing symphonies to my tired muscles and lull me back to sleep.

I slept in, something that was unheard of even before I started my backwards sleep schedule. The clock on the bedside table read 9:23pm in red digital font, illuminating my wallet and phone that I had forgotten to plug in after last nights shift and was now most definitely dead. Still in a sleep state, I reached down to grab the charger and plug it into my phone when I heard a noise come from the other side of the bed. A tapping in a rhythmic matter, which would explain why i hadn’t noticed it sooner, but now it had gotten louder, almost annoyed at me paying it no mind and I froze leaning halfway off the bed. The jolt of fear that swarmed my body woke me up better than any instant java could ever wish. It knows that I know and its playing with me now. The tapping is getting faster and multiplies and I now that it is the sound of fingernails tapping on my wall.

(Did somebody break in am I really going to get murdered in my bed after the first night of decent sleep in my life?)

The tapping stopped suddenly, followed by a bang on the wall knocking out one of the nails holding up the curtains. My fists clenched among other things. I roll off the bed into a stance and with a sorry excuse of a warcry ready to fight whatever it was in my room to the death if need be. Nothing was there; I was sure of that. The curtains had fallen letting in the bright glow from the 7-11 across the street, revealing the only thing out of the ordinary in my room was that I needed to clean.

“Must’ve been a dream.” I said out loud, an attempt to calm myself after what I just experienced or just only imagined.

I flicked the flicked the lights on and fixed the curtains. Hammering in the nails all a little more for good measure before walking out of my room to start my day.

My apartment is in no meaning of the word interesting. I’ll state that I had, two chairs, a couch, some scattered goodwill tables of varying size, and a flatscreen TV on a small Swedish table decorated with a collection of games and movies. It wasn’t much, but I enjoyed what I had.

I prepared myself a bowl of cereal and sat on the couch to watch a show when I noticed movement down the hallway into my room. It wasn’t a natural movement in any sense and even now it is hard to explain. It was as if the world had lost focus of that specific spot in my bedroom doorway and it had grown hazy and distorted. It had the height of a man in a sheet ghost’s clothing and it was raising what I presumed to be its arms when an ad on the TV startled me back to reality. I started up a show and began eating my food quickly, doing my best to forget what might be lurking down the hall and failing as thoughts raced through my head.

(I didn’t check under the bed FUCK no one can fit under there anyways FUCK THE CLOSET FUCK it’s nothing probably just a reflection YOU HAVE NO MIRRORS IN THERE DUMBASS AND YOU CLOSED THE CURTAINS IT’S A GHOST YOU ARE BEING HAUNTED CONGRATULATIONS SHIRLEY FUCKING JACKSON WOULD WRITE A BOOK ABOUT YOU CALLED THE IDIOT’S HAUNTING IF SHE WAS STILL ALIVE)

Frustrated with myself I hopped up and marched down the hall to my room huffing and puffing with each authoritative stomp, making sure that whoever await beyond the door knew I meant the most serious of business, as well as sloshing my breakfast everywhere. As I pushed the door open fully I was rushed by what I can only describe as a shadow, knocking me on my back. spilling cereal and milk all over me and as I looked up I could see the shadow turn left at the end of the hallway into the TV room and out of my sight.

I was terrified. I tried to stand myself up while keeping my sights on where I last saw it. As I got to my knees and began to prop up, the shadow peaked around the corner with a featureless, translucent face starring at me with what I assumed was malicious intent. Frozen in fear, I could only muster up the breath to ask a single question.

“Who?”

To which, to my absolute horror it responded in a echoed whisper.

“Boo.”

And vanished.

With my pants shit and my legs like jello, it took me a moment to breath, let alone move. When Blood returned to my veins I hastily made my way to the bathroom to clean myself of spilled Golden Grahams and milk and to face the realization that what I had just witnessed was anything but normal. I spent a moment arguing with my thoughts, fighting the impulse to sleep in my car. My reflection in the bathroom mirror helped to ground me in reality, to remind me that I am fine and no harm was done. I convinced myself of a resident Casper The Friendly, albeit roughhousing ghost. I soon after left the bathroom.

I poured myself another, bigger bowl of cereal and sat down to watch anything the TV had to offer. I spent the rest of the night on the couch, eating and finding any excuse to not look down the hallway.

At around 2:51am I had had enough of wracking my brain, thinking that at any moment the shadow would reappear and attack me again, this time finishing the job. I bolted down the hallway to my bedroom, grabbed my keys and wallet and headed out my apartment to go across the street to the 7-11 for a early morning slurpee. The cashier knew me and joked about my usual purchase of sugary drinks and snacks. I gave no response, paid my $6.23 and headed out the door.

As I was crossing the street back to my apartment, I looked up to my second floor bedroom window, half hoping to see nothing, other half expecting bloody Mary herself. After what I had been through that night, I’m not sure why I even went back into that apartment. The curtain rod had been torn out of the wall again and standing in my room were two of the shadow figures latched to the windowsill, with the distinct outline of hands pushed against the glass. They watched me as I continued crossing the street; my heart was almost bursting out of my chest. I was running on fear induced auto-pilot and my destination was my apartment door. When I reached my door I finally paused and reflected on what had happened tonight.

(If they wanted me dead, They could have done it already. They were playing games with me, but why?)

I stood in front of my door for a minute before realizing I had never locked it and walked right in ready to confront whatever was inside. I flicked the kitchen light on, set my drink and bag down, and looked down the dark hallway. Spilling out of my room were dozens of shadows piling over each other, all different shapes and heights of darkness, fading in and out as if there was a draft blowing through them. I began nervously pacing in my small kitchen, checking on the hallways inhabitants every few rounds. They never moved. After a while a voice moaned from my bedroom.

“Leave”

“No.” I spat out responded in annoyance.

“Leave or...”

“Or fucking what?” I shouted with such ferocity that my neighbors definitely heard me.

“Die.”

All the blood drained from my face and immediately the shadows in the hall began screaming and moaning, shifting from side to side,all while inching towards me. My legs turned gave out from under me. trying to catch myself from falling I had turned the kitchen light off which seemed to invite the shadows to come closer. As they got closer, their faces appeared mangled and distorted consisting of holes where a human features should be. As their shadows began to overtake my motionless body, I shut my eyes so tight that it hurt. Amidst the moaning I heard one last phrase.

“Sleep again now. We’ll do the rest.”

The next thing I know, i’m laying on the doormat outside of my apartment. I didn’t care how I got there. I quickly got on my feet and down the stairs to my car. I closed my eyes as I backed out of the parking lot. I didn’t want to ever look at that window ever again.

I stayed at my friend Aiden’s place for a week. He lived alone, so he liked the company and he had the room for it, so he didn’t mind. I had told him a lie of how the landlord was spying on me when I showered and once tried to seduce me while fixing the sink. I think he believed it.

I only wanted to go back to the apartment once to get my stuff. After a week of staying with Aiden, the two of us drove to the apartment building and found that where my bedroom window used to be was blown out, stained black with burn marks. Aiden didn’t know what to say and I was beyond confused. We parked the car and I went to the landlord’s door alone and asked what had happened. He told me in detail that four days again my room had exploded from a gas leak and that I was lucky I went on vacation or else i’d be a deadman. There was nothing to be packed up that wasn’t ash. I apologized to him about his building, and said goodbye. I headed back to my friends car who was waiting with a drink for me from across the street. I got into the car without a word.

“What the fuck happened? Did he try to kill you? Tried to burn you alive cuz you weren’t turned on by his wrinkles?” Aiden said as he started the car.

“No, he doesn’t know what happened. Gas leak they think, he told me.” I said. “Let me take one last look.”

“Oh, sure. Of course.” He said, shutting the engine off. I rested my arms on the top of his car looking up to my once bedroom window now black from the fires, but somehow still intact. I thought I saw something and ran across the street to see it closer. There were two marks on the burnt windowsill; marks I could swear were burned in hands.

“You ok, Rick?” Aiden shouted from the driver’s seat.

“Yea, no, I’m good. Just getting a closer look.” I said as I ran back to the car. “Just saying goodbye is all.”

“Well alrighty, you want to grab some burgers?”

I nodded and smiled.

I never asked him if he saw the handprints.

We pulled out of the parking lot, passing my old apartment building one last time. I instinctively waved to the window that used to be my bedroom. Nothing waved back.

[loveisblindfanfictionbka]

Love Is Blind: Chapter Nine

Robyn brushed her hair up into a ponytail as she walked out of her closet into her bedroom. Leandra and Melissa sat on the large bed, both dressed in their nightwear as was Robyn.

“I can’t believe y’all really came all this way for some gossip,” Robyn murmured as she sat down on the bed and pulled a pillow between her legs.

“We also came to check on you,” Leandra replied.

“Sure you did. So ask away.”

“How are things going?”

“Good.”

“Are y’all still talking?”

“Yes, me and Chris are still talking.”

“Are you dating?’

“No, we are not dating.”

“Why not?”

“We’re relearning each other besides I’m still not in the mood for anything serious.”

“He’s your ex-husband, there’s already a touch of seriousness in this.”

“Exactly why we’re not dating. We got enough to deal with just by being exes.”

“So what is he like?” Melissa asked, “I can imagine things are a bit different now.”

“Things are very different,” Robyn replied as she grabbed her phone and scrolled to a recent picture they had taken together and handed it to Melissa, “he’s so much calmer and relaxed now.”

“Y’all look so good together but you always have. He’s aged well.”

“He did. Witnessing the change between the Chris I knew and this new Chris is interesting.”

“How is he as a dad?”

“He’s amazing. Anesa absolutely adores him.”

“How is your relationship with Anesa?”

“I’ve only been around her a few times but we get along pretty well. She’s so sweet and funny.”

“So what’s the big problem with dating?”

“I am not ready to date regardless of the man, that’s why I didn’t want to meet my internet friend in the first place. Why does it have to go anywhere because we met?”

“It doesn’t have to but it does make sense.”

“I can see your point.”

“You know I’m surprised you’re not madder at him. All that anger you had couldn’t have just disappeared,” Leandra interjected, “you are so zen right now.”

“Oddly enough all the talking we did before we knew who we were really clarified things for me. Had I known it was Chris I was talking to, things might’ve been a little different but I understand more. I’m not completely over feeling betrayed and he knows that but it’s not as bad as it was.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Yes and no.”

“What!”

Robyn laughed, “I told you we slept in the same bed together already but we have not had sex.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“You and Chris, the two freaks of the century, actually slept in the same bed together and did not have sex.”

“Yes. Why is that so unbelievable?”

“Because it’s you two.”

Robyn laughed, “It’s also been seven years. You’d think I’d succumb to him that quickly?”

“Considering you haven’t had sex in seven years, hell yea.”

They all laughed as Robyn rolled her eyes, “I want to be surprised but it’s you, Lele.”

“But you also know that I’m right. You really don’t want to see how it is after all this time?”

“No, I’m not even thinking of him like that.”

Leandra sucked her teeth as she flipped her hair over shoulder, “we’ll see, Ms. Robyn.”

“There is nothing to see, Le-” Robyn stopped as her phone started ringing. She looked at the screen and saw it was Chris, “speak of the devil.”

She cleared her throat then answered the phone, “Hey Stranger.”

Chris sat up in his bed as he heard Robyn answer the phone. He knew it was getting late but was taking a chance on her not being asleep, “How you doing, Beautiful?”

“I’m great. How are you?” She replied.

“I’m good. I was taking a chance on you being awake since it’s getting late.”

“It is the weekend and I am off. Nothing to explain about.”

“Great. Do you have plans this weekend?”

“None that can’t be rearranged depending.”

“I was wondering if you were free Saturday evening for dinner.”

“I would love to go to dinner.”

“Just to clarify, this is a date, date. Not a friendship date. Not a I’m just in your neighborhood, let's hang out kind of thing.”

“Ok. You didn’t have to clarify, Christopher.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like I tricked you in any way. My intentions are honorable but I would like to take you on a real date, if that’s feasible.”

“Thank you for the clarification but my answer is still yes.”

Chris blew out a sigh of relief and Robyn laughed, “were you not breathing that whole time?”

“Are you gonna clown me if I say yes?”

“No, I’ll let you slide this time. You really don’t have to be so nervous around me, Chris. I am not being your friend under duress”

“I know, it’s just my insecurity rearing its ugly head. My apologies.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m not doing much right now.”

“No, I don’t want to put-”

“Christopher.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not a burden. Now take a deep breath and talk to me.”

“I’m just psyching myself out, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re still here and I wasn’t prepared for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you’d be tired of me by now.”

“Why?”

“There’s not too much interesting about me or my life.”

“I’d beg to differ but even if there wasn’t, I could still just want to be around you. Why is that so shocking to you? Are you expecting me to spontaneously become angry about our past and hate you?”

“Honestly, yes.”

“Please do not take what I’m about to do as a dismissal.”

Robyn burst out laughing and Chris groaned into the phone,” Christopher, that is the most asinine thing I have ever heard. If I was still angry, I would not still be talking to you. I don’t do petty. I don’t do revenge. I am an adult and I can adequately express my displeasure in something without writing it off completely. I am beyond the anger stage. I’m in a place of understanding while you seem to be operating from a place of guilt. Am I right?”

“You’re right.”

“So it seems that you are the problem here and not me, correct?”

“Correct.”

“So how are we gonna fix that?”

“I’m thinking I might need to see my therapist.”

“Whatever works for you.”

“So I’ll be at your place around 6: 30 pm tomorrow night, is that ok?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You do the same. Is there any kind of special attire?”

“Nothing too fancy but not super casual either.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Have a good night, Christopher.”

“You too, Robyn.”

Chris hung up and tossed his phone beside him before grabbing a pillow to scream into.

“Girl, you sounded like me talking to Max,” Leandra said with a laugh.

“Chris can be his own worst enemy sometimes,” Robyn replied, “he thinks I’m being nice to him to get back at him.”

“We heard but what’s happening Saturday?”

“He wants to take me on a date.”

“Oooh, where you going?”

“He just said out to dinner, I’m not sure where.”

“What are you wearing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Good. Shopping trip tomorrow then.”

“We do not have time for your kind of shopping trips, Leandra.”

“We can abbreviate it.  Y’all are going on a real date so you need to pull out all the stops. We’ll check on Nordstrom’s for an outfit, come back here, I'll do your hair and makeup. Simple.”

“Nothing is ever simple with you.”

“You will love me for it. Trust me. And Chris will too.”

“Now I’m scared.”

They all laughed.

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

Robyn’s nervousness melted away when Chris walked into her living room with Leandra and Melissa hanging off each arm. His eyes met hers and stuck causing her to blush, “can y’all let the man go please?”

Melissa scoffed, “we haven’t seen him in seven years and y’all don’t have to leave yet, relax. I missed my little brother.”

“Psshh, I think Leandra is the only one who didn’t reach out to him this whole time.”

“Actually, I did but I got his voicemail,” Leandra interjected, “ Lucky for him because I was gonna call him all kinds of names for skipping out on us.”

Chris shook his head, “I would’ve deserved.”

“Damn right,” Melissa said, “but Lele and I have plans so we’ll be going now.”

Chris kissed both of their cheeks before they hugged Robyn and left. Chris moved to sit on the couch next to her and patted her knee, “those two are still characters.”

“They always will be.”

“Glad some things haven’t changed.”

“True. So how are you?”

“I’m good. You look amazing.”

“Thank you. Leandra forced me to buy something new. Apparently my current wardrobe isn’t date appropriate.”

Chris chuckled, “I think your current wardrobe is you and that’s perfect.”

“Thank you. You’re really sweet.”

“Ouch.”

“Why the ouch?”

“You’re really sweet is such a curve statement.”

Robyn laughed, “Omg Chris, really?”

“Yes really.”

“But what if I really do think you’re really sweet.”

“It’s been so long how could you remember.”

“We did kiss a while ago. On the corner of the mouth.”

“And?”

“That’s all I’m admitting to.”

Chris laughed as he held his hands up in playful surrender, “I’ll take that but we could remedy that.”

“After dinner.”

“After dinner then. Are you ready to go?”

“Yup. Lead the way.”

Robyn let out an audible sound of awe as they stood by the car at the entrance of Chelsea Pier, “this is gorgeous. What’s going on here tonight?”

“It’s a jazz performance. A few of the local student groups for the major universities in NY are doing a fundraiser.”

“Are some of your students performing?”

“It’s possible, I didn’t check for specific performers of each group.”

“Do you perform anywhere?”

“Not anymore. I did once or twice a few years back.”

“Is that why you gave me the name Christian?”

“Partly. I know there’s videos of my performances online which lead back to my social media which of course would’ve told you everything.”

“You know since you told me this, you totally have to show me these videos.”

“One of these days I’ll get loose enough to not be embarrassed to show you.”

Robyn chuckled, “I’m sure you did well, why be embarrassed?”

“I was fairly nervous performing so I don’t think I did too well.”

“What did everyone else say?”

“That I did well but I think I’m harsher on myself than anyone else.”

“That, I can believe.”

“So what hobbies did you pick up?”

“Other than reading more, none.”

“Really?”

“I’m not the creative type.”

“You used to say that back in the day too but you never know until you try something.”

“What do you think I should try?”

“What have you always wanted to try?”

“How about something we’d both be learning at the same time?”

“How about sculpting or something?”

“Hmm...that sounds good.”

“I guess we need to schedule another date then.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” Chris replied as he grabbed her hand. They had walked up to the restaurant hosting the fundraiser event. The maitre’d smiled at them as they searched for Chris’s name on the list. Upon finding it, they led them to a table by the window. They smiled their thanks as they took their seats and accepted a menu.

“This is a nice spot.” Robyn stated.

“Thanks. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be outside. It can get a bit cool since it’s still early in the season.”

“Very thoughtful. Thank you.”

Robyn swayed gently to the current group of musicians playing a jazz-rendition of a classic R&B song by Tony Terry. Chris watched as she started to mouth the words and leaned into his palm, thoroughly enjoying her enchantment with the music. Just then he felt his phone vibrate with a text message from Jessica.

Jessica: Chris, I need to bring Anesa to you. There’s something going with Jason.

Chris: I’m at the restaurant we used to go at Chelsea Pier

Jessica: I’ll be there in ten minutes

Chris: you were already in the city?

Jessica: Yes, I had to drive down here for Jason. It was supposed to be over quick but we’re still here. I’m trying to keep this nigga out of jail

Chris: SMH, you need a new boyfriend

Jessica: I’m figuring that out

Chris: LOL

Chris gingerly touched Robyn’s hand, bringing her attention back to him, “we have a dilemma.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Jessica needs to bring Anesa to me. She has an emergency.”

“Oh, is she ok?”

“It’s her boyfriend. Long story.”

“If you need to cut the date short, I’ll understand.”

“No, I would like to continue this but we might have to switch plans because of Anesa.”

“That’s fine.”

“You sure? I know this was supposed to this big date and I’m gonna have to-”

“Chris, it’s not like we’re not gonna see each other. I am not worried about the change of plans. I’m having a really good time.”

“I can tell. You’ve barely said anything to me since we’ve sat down.”

Robyn shrugged, “music centers me a bit.”

“Oh I’m not complaining. Watching you has been a highlight. How was your dinner?”

“It was amazing. I never considered blackened catfish but I love it. I’m used to grilled or steamed.”

“I’ll have to make a southern dinner from scratch one of these days.”

“I would like that.”

“Good.”

“Is Jessica far away?”

“She said 10 minutes but I’m guessing it’ll be more like 20 if she’s where I think she’s coming from.”

“We could walk for a little bit before we meet her outside.”

“You don’t want anything else to eat or drink?”

“Nope, I think I’m good.”

Chris gestured for the waitress and paid for their food before leading Robyn out to the front.

Robyn tucked her hand in his, “so which way do we go?”

“Hmm...to the right, I believe there is a small park. To the left, would be towards the parking lot.”

“Then to the right it is.”

Robyn leaned in his arm as they started walking, “what led you to fostering?”

“Besides me wanting a child?”

“Besides that.”

“I just thought I was in the right place and I had a capacity for love that I wasn’t utilizing. I’ve always loved children and had a good rapport with them, I figured what better way to use it than to give it to a child that needs it. I had already decided against getting into another relationship.”

“That really surprises me.”

“Why?”

“I mean you’ve clearly healed and done well for yourself. Why stay single?”

“I had my dream girl and I blew it. There wasn’t anyone else out there I really wanted to be involved with.”

“I guess.”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I was still trying to make sense of the divorce. Adding a new person to my life just didn’t sound like a good idea.”

“But you still could’ve been in a relationship amid all of that.”

“At the risk of inflating your ego, there wasn’t anyone else I wanted to be with.”

“That actually makes me feel more guilty than hype.”

“Why? Because you wanted me to date someone else.”

“Actually yes.”

“Are you really that worried that you ruined me?”

“Very. Not saying relationships are the only way to be happy but I know how much you enjoyed it. You’re very independent but you’re also affectionate and loving, you deserve to share that with someone who’ll give it back to you.”

“I can’t give it to myself?”

“Of course you can but you know what I mean.”

“I do. I’m just picking with you.”

Chris chuckled then kissed her temple, “wanna make a u-turn? Jess should be here by now.”

“Sure. That was a quick 10 minutes.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“True. So what are we going to do once we get Anesa?”

“I will leave that up to you and her. I want it to be something fun for both of you.”

“I'm good for a movie and relaxing on the couch.”

“I’m trying to do something extraordinary and you are shooting me down at every turn.”

“Who says that extraordinary requires an exuberant amount of energy or money? In my old age, just spending time with a person is extraordinary to me.”

“Well when you put it that way, I feel special.”

“You should. Most people don’t get past one phone call with me.”

“Really?”

“Yes really. The fact you got past the first chat with me is a miracle.”

“I guess that prayer I sent up before we left your house was answered.”

Robyn laughed, “you’re still just as dramatic as you ever were.”

“I’ve tried to mellow it out a bit.”

“Just a bit is right”

“Right in the heart.”

“I never miss, Christopher, if you haven’t figured that out.”

“It has been duly noted.”

They laughed as they made their way back towards the restaurant. 

[artistic-writer]

The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 4

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal.  Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some. A/N: All I can do is apologise for the wait for this one!  My mind was a mess - Ch 4 became Ch 5 so then I had to write Ch 4 and just...ug...well, you know.  I hope this isn’t too much for you all to take.  Cold towels are being provided.  I would also like to give a MASSIVE thank you to @itsfabianadocarmo​ for her beautiful artwork that she so graciously allowed me to use from now on! <3

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics.  Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg.  Just so you know.  There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O.  If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :)  Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @shardminds​ @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ and @effulgentcolors​ for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

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Killian absentmindedly watched a patch of light on the ceiling of Emma’s bedroom, the silver oval shape fixed to the spot above them. It illuminated a blemish on the plastering of the ceiling that made Killian wonder if Emma’s apartment wasn’t some sort of metaphor for her life, the daytime showing the grandeur and superfluous life she led at Graham’s behest, and the innocently pale moonlight highlighting the rot in the darkness of her marriage. In truth, the fact that Emma made no secret of her distaste at her marriage just spurred Killian on to hold her tighter.

Killian wasn’t even sure if Emma felt the same, but what he was sure of, was, that for the last few hours she had been chatting, her fingers idling in the soft curls of his chest hair, sometimes slipping beneath the sheet at his waist in exploration of what was at the end of the line of hair there, he would listen to her forever. He couldn’t make head nor tail of his emotions, not only for the simple fact that Emma was a Beta, but also because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling she was something more.

Will had warned him about this, and maybe it was because Killian had never fucked anything outside of his toys when he wasn’t in a relationship. He might be an Alpha, but Killian was also a man of honour. Will might like to fuck everything that moves but Killian was more interested in finding that special someone who would complete both his heart and his soul, ultimately a mate who would know him better than he knew himself. Of course, it was absurd to think Emma could be that person, but she was addictive and he never wanted to be hooked on anyone else.

“Why did you come here tonight?” Emma asked softly as she rolled in Killian’s arms until she was on her stomach. He raised his arm a little to accommodate her in his hold, enjoying the warmth of her skin on his fingertips when he ran dragged them over the ridges of her spine.

“What do you mean, love?” Killian asked her innocently. “You know why I came.”

“Yeah, but,” Emma began, her fingers combing through the hairs on his chest. “I mean,” she stammered shyly.

“You mean, I wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow?” Killian offered with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Well that’s good to know,” Killian smiled proudly, his hand tracing the curve of her shoulder. “I’d hate to think I wasn’t doing my utmost to thoroughly please you.”

“Mmm,” Emma hummed with a daydream smile but that faded as quickly as his words had sunk in.

She had waited her entire life for someone like Killian to come along and sweep her off her feet. Alpha or not, she was sure they had some sort of connection. There had never been an opportunity for her to date as she grew up, and because of her illness, a lot of the time she was unable to attend the many social events that the Humbert's so graciously invited her to. Maybe it was why she had so eagerly agreed to marry Graham when he had proposed to her, knowing she had no other choice.

Maybe it was why, for the first time in her life, right now, in Killian’s arms, she felt like she had a choice.

“Hey,” Killian coaxed her from her reverie with the soft lilt of his groggy post-sex voice. He brushed the smooth pad of his thumb over the corner of her mouth until she looked at him, her cheeks prickling with pink as she offered him a small smile. “That’s better,” he smiled back before leaning towards her and pressing his lips to hers.

Immediately, Killian felt Emma’s smile widen and when he felt the softness of her palm against his cheek as she cupped his face, he kissed her harder. Emma giggled against his lips, a giddy, jovial sound that had Killian rearranging himself until he was towering over her, never breaking the kiss as he caged her in his embrace. Emma clutched the side of his face, pulling him down with her when she fell back into the softness of the pillows, spreading her legs wide to accommodate his bulk when he settled into the apex of her thighs.

Emma was the first one to part her lips and tease the seam of Killian’s with her tongue, gently lapping at his smirk until he opened up his mouth and let her in with a manly chuckle. Her hands left his face and danced down his shoulders, traced the outline of his ribs, and smoothed over the curve of his abdomen until her fingers tickled at the hair there. Killian sucked in a breath, pulling his lips from hers and fixing Emma with a raised eyebrow stare.

“Again?” Killian said darkly.

Emma bit her bottom lip and writhed, scooting down the bed until the wetness between her thighs was level with Killian’s hips and she knew he could feel the heat from her. The slowly hardening girth of him bobbed up when he clenched his muscles and barely brushed her sex, making her gasp all the same. Emma cast her eyes down between them, focusing on the one thing between them that might end her ever aching need for something she couldn’t explain but knew only Killian could fix.

“Alright,” he smirked, his voice soft yet firm. “But first you must do something for me.”

“Anything, Alpha” Emma breathed, not even realising the sort of effect her words could have on an Alpha.

For a second Killian was thrown. He was only going to ask her to get him going, but the second she had obeyed, whether she meant to or not, he was rock solid in seconds. Logically, he knew that Emma was not an Omega, but he couldn’t help but dream for a second. She wasn’t some Beta who had a scumbag husband that treated her like shit. She was more than precious, everything, the personification of happiness and love. She was an Omega, begging, pleading, wanting him to please her just as much as she eagerly pleased in return.

She was his.

“Killian?” Emma began sheepishly, touching her open hand to the side of his cheek.

It shook him from his thoughts just long enough for him to realise that her smile had faded and a real look of concern was plastered all over her face. Her eyes had dulled, the lust now gone and the darkness of worry having crept into its place. It took him a second of listening to the thumping of his own blood in his ears to realise that he had frozen, poised above her with his length pressed to her slightly damp sex and a stupified look on his face.

“Are you okay?” Emma blushed, a heat creeping down her neck and across the top of her chest. “Did I-?”

“No, love, you could never,” he assured her quickly. His hands found her face, brushing some stray strands of her golden locks from her brow, his heartbreaking from the look in her eyes.

“Then what is it?” Emma said shyly, a blush pinking her cheeks at his compliment. “Talk to me.”

How could he? How was he supposed to explain to a Beta just how he was feeling? Emma would have no idea. Alpha’s were not supposed to be like this, cradled in the arms of a woman who was paying him to please her. Correction. Her husband was paying him, and the mere thought of the ungrateful swine made Killian’s blood boil in his veins. Emma was sweet, and worth so much more than what Graham could ever offer her, physically and emotionally, but Killian couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.

“It’s nothing,” Killian said sweetly. His hand stilled on her cheek, cradling the shape of her face in his palm, thumbing the edge of her pretty lips until he saw her smile. “I swear it,” he added and had never meant anything so much in his entire life.

“Oh,” Emma sighed, but before she could continue, Killian was reassuring her again.

“It’s just, you don’t have to say those things with me.” He swallowed hard, a warmth spreading up his spine. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her if that was what she wanted, but she had never mentioned it before now without his prompting, something he had thought she wanted during their encounters, so he could only assume she thought that was what he wanted to hear. “Call me Alpha, I mean.”

“Are you not an Alpha?” Emma teased, canting her hips against his length again.

“Aye, love,” he laughed timidly, shifting his hips away from her advances. “But this whole arrangement is about making you feel good, not me.”

“And does me calling you Alpha make you feel good?” Her smile was too much and he was sure that by the way he was blushing, she already knew the answer. “It does, doesn’t it?” Emma pried, letting her hands dance over the soft jut of his hips. “Calling you Alpha has you all hot and bothered for real, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not supposed to,” Killian told her with a quirk of his brow and a scratch behind his ear.

That had Emma intrigued and she pushed herself up onto her elbows, repositioning herself against the pillows and letting Killian roll off to her side.

“What does that mean?” She asked with a tilt of her head. Emma watched as Killian settled on his side, resting his head on his hand and giving her a confident smile. “What?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him but all she got back was his beautiful, cheeky grin. “Tell me!”

She giggled, sitting up so she could push feebly against his shoulder before tumbling down on top of him.

“Love, there is something you should know about Alphas like me, for hire, I mean.” Killian sucked in a breath, stroking some hairs from her face.“We aren’t...We aren’t supposed to have feelings for our clients.” Killian licked his lips and nervously avoided her gaze, the spread of warmth over his cheeks probably as obvious as it felt.

“Killian, what are you saying?” Emma teased, enjoying the way he squirmed.

“I don’t know exactly,” Killian shrugged with a chuckle, his whole body rumbling and making the bed bounce. His hand found her skin, attracted like a magnet, and he dragged the tip of his fingers over the curve of her shoulder. “I can’t explain it. All I know is that since I first laid eyes on you I have felt things, things I am bloody well sure no Alpha has ever felt for a beta before.”

Emma frowned, her brows pulling together, and she pushed herself up to mirror Killian’s pose. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” he began, trying to not look at her exposed breasts. Emma had no qualms about being naked around him, and he found it ever so endearing that she felt so comfortable when he was around. “Alphas are not exactly complicated, we rut, we fuck, and we are inherently attracted to that one person that we want to protect, above all else, and we will do anything in our power to keep them safe. “ Killian met her gaze once more, the blue of his eyes shining in the darkness. “Emma, I’ve known Alphas to die protecting that person.”

Emma’s throat went dry and she struggled to swallow. All of the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, not in a panic response, but instead, arousal. Want. Need. “Why are you telling me this?” she uttered, unable to stop her free hand from resting comfortably on Killian’s chest where her fingers gently stroked the hair there.

“I don’t know that either.” Killian shook his head. He was so confused and flattened his hand over hers, pinning hers to his chest where his heart thumped a steady rhythm against her fingertips. “Maybe I figured you could help me work out what I’m feeling.”

Killian offered her a small smile, warm and welcoming, a silent plea to her to aid him in deciphering his heart. It was all he wanted, really, for Emma to accept him and the love he knew he already felt for her, obstacles be damned. Here she was, glorious and glowing, like a naked angel in bed next to him who could end him, right where he lay, and he would willingly let her. If only their lives were not so complicated.

“Killian Jones, you don’t know a lot, do you?” Emma’s voice shook him from his daydream and he copied the grin that was plastered on her face.

“I’m sorry, love, it doesn’t seem that I do.” Killian flopped down onto the bed, sinking into the pillows with a huff. The only word he could use to describe his current predicament was conflict, between his head and his heart. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted Emma like no other, and he would willingly give up ever finding an Omega mate just to be with her. There was a connection there, he knew it deep down in his soul, and had tried to ignore the pounding of his heart in his chest whenever she was near. Emma slipped further under the thin sheet that covered them and moved to straddle his waist with a groan of content that he was sure was involuntary because he had heard it before, but was like music to his Alpha ears nonetheless. Her hands found his face, lightly pawing over the scruff of his cheeks as she tenderly kissed the underside of his jaw.

“Well, what do you know?” Emma purred, the lobe of his ear catching on the skin between her fingers. Her mouth soon followed and through her smirk, she began nibbling his ear.

“Honestly?” Killian gulped with his eyes pinched closed, hating himself for grabbing her hand and halting her torturous assault. Emma stopped, easing herself up off his chest and sitting back, her heels tucked under her bare ass as her feet rested across his thighs, her nails clawing at the hair on his stomach because she couldn’t get enough of how soft they felt. The half hurt look she gave him made his chest tighten, but he needed her to focus on his words. “I know I want to keep you safe, more than anything,” Killian said earnestly, pushing his weight up after her until they were face to face and he was cupping her head in his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks in unison and he held her tightly to ensure she not only heard his next words but felt them too. “I know that no man deserves you, least of all him.”

Killian’s heart stopped when he heard her hold her breath and a lump caught in his throat. He’d gone too far, exposed too much, been too fucking Alpha, wearing his heart out on his sleeves, and now he’d be back to just being her fuck toy that her husband was paying for. The idea stung more than anything he had ever experienced. Panic settled in his entire being, running so deep that even the beds of his fingernails itched when Emma looked away, casting her eyes downward.

“He’s my husband, Killian,” she murmured, her voice laced with sadness but her hands clutched his and held them to her face in a silent plea to never let go.

Killian felt her sorrow, he really did. It oozed from her every pore, every muscle tense and yet yearning for the release of his touch at the same time. She was caught up between the man she was obligated to be with and the man she was with right now, and the pain and torment were evident, radiating from her very being. Emma didn’t even have to say it; Killian knew exactly how she felt.

“I know, and I’m sorry, love, but he is so unworthy of you.” Killian's voice cracked a little, his words fighting to escape passed the lump that had formed in his throat. He rolled his forehead against hers, letting his eyes flutter closed as he inhaled her scent, the musk of sex and release all over her body, put there by his lips when he had worshipped her body with his kisses after they had fucked earlier that evening. She was more than she had been led to believe, more than she had ever known, but telling her constantly circled back to her husband and Killian hated himself for making her remember her sadness.

“What makes you think I am worth anything?” Emma whimpered, small and meek, her words nothing but a breath against his lips.

Killian felt her shudder when he trailed his hands down the column of her neck, brushing the hair that sat lazily there over the curve of her shoulder, his lips soon following to kiss her over where her pulse was quickening under the skin there. He inhaled her again, taking in every level of fragrant note that her body was offering up, and he couldn’t help but scrape his nails over the bumps of her spine as he held her, his hungry mouth impossibly wishing he was about to mark her as his. “Emma,” Killian chuckled in disbelief, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips and catching the taste of her salt sheened skin in the process. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen and I can’t help but wish our paths had crossed before now.”

Emma’s eyes rolled back in her head as he kissed her, her fingers plunging into his already sex messed hair and forcing his lips to sear her skin again. “Maybe in another life?” She panted, the hope evident in her voice that was also laced with regret.

“And why not this one?” Killian offered and Emma’s head snapped up, eyes wide with something Killian couldn’t quite recognise, a mixture of anguish and yearning balancing on the edge of anger. She wanted it too but was just as confused as to the logistics as Killian was. “Love, I don’t mean to sound crass, but your husband is away from you for over eighteen hours a day and I, for one, would despair if you were out of my sight for even a second.”

Emma’s face paled and Killian felt her flesh ripple with goosebumps under his hold. For a second he wasn’t sure if he had gone too far and suggested the ultimate betrayal in Emma’s eyes, or offered her the reason she has longed to hear. The reason to finally be free of the corruption that came with being a Humbert’s wife and live her life with whoever she wanted. The conflict was plastered all over her face and Killian’s heart twinged with remorse.

“I’m sorry, love, I shouldn’t have-,” Killian began in apology but he was taken by surprise when Emma pulled his head upwards and pressed her finger to his lips, sealing them shut.

“Shut up, Killian,” she snapped, but her voice wasn’t filled with anything except sultry darkness that made Killian hard again. She let him rest his face in her hands and offered him a coy smirk, their eyes locked once more, blue turning grey when Killian saw the lust behind Emma’s before she let her hands slip to his chest and pushed him back onto the bed. “Shut up and fuck me,” she demanded, wiggling her hips over his solid length, rolling her bottom lip under her toothy grin. “Fuck me like you want to.”

Killian thought he was going to pop his knot. Her words were so erotic, so unlike the manipulative woman he had been lead to believe Emma was, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed her demand. There was a blur in time, between where they were and where they ended up, where Emma had fallen forward onto the bed and Killian had crawled up over her back like a rabid animal. She squealed in excitement, clenching her buttocks and burying her face in the pillow that had been, somewhere in the exchange, slung to where she lay. Killian had her pinned, his powerful thighs on either side of her hips and his hands kneading slow, deliberate circles into the middle of her back.

“That’s a dangerous proposition,” he growled, fingers flexing around her ribcage. He leaned down and kissed her spine, pecking his lips to her skin between each ridge until he reached her shoulder blades and carefully moved her hair aside with a swipe of his hand.

“Why?” Emma breathed dumbly, trying to writhe beneath him, her hand finding his thigh beside her hip and clutching it, desperate to feel any part of him on her skin.

Killian nuzzled his nose behind her ear, the sound he made as he let out a husky laughing sound making her entire body vibrate with anticipation. His lips skimmed over the shell of her ear and he planted a hand to each side of her head, towering over her, mindful not to suffocate her with his entire weight. Emma he let out a moan and he smirked, open mouthed and wide against the side of her cheek, where she could see him out of the corner of her eye.

“Because, love, I’ve wanted to fuck you the way I want since the moment I first saw you,” Killian began, balancing his weight on one arm so he could stroke his knuckles down the side of her neck, right over the spot where she would have a scent gland if she were an Omega. He ground his engorged cock into the crease of her arse with clenched teeth, eyes cast down between them to watch, imagining her begging for his knot because she was so desperate to come that she couldn’t take it anymore.

“So?” Emma challenged, wiggling her restricted hips until she felt her cheeks slapping his cock and Killian groan.

Killian held her hips still, his fingernails digging into her flesh. “The contract-,”

“Fuck the contract,” Emma scoffed. “In fact,” she declared, rolling over underneath him. “Let’s break it. What’s stopping you fucking me the way you want?”

Killian’s lips ticked up into a wry smile. “It specifically states that I am not allowed to come inside of you.”

“Oh,” Emma sighed with a blush.

“Something I would sell my soul to do,” he said darkly, rearranging himself so he was between her legs. Emma spread them wider to accommodate him, his length scorching a hot line into the inside of her thigh and his tip begging for entrance between her folds when he settled over her once more. “Something that means I’d have to knot you,” he continued, reaching between them and stroking his fingers through her folds, his lips millimetres from hers when he felt her gasp and suck all the air between them into her lungs. “Something I think you would like very much.”

Before she had time to form a reply, Killian’s lips were on hers and he was delivering a crushing kiss that made her see even more stars than she already was. He had a way of leaving her dazed with just his words and she couldn’t get enough, even hearing his voice in her head when they were apart. Emma parted her lips to allow his tongue inside where it duelled with her own, his neck muscles strained under her fingers when she clawed his skin in her eagerness to get more of him. Nothing else mattered. He was all she wanted, so when he broke the kiss and left his mark lingering against her lips, she whimpered in protest.

“Emma, can I knot you?” Killian ground out, canting his hips until the tip of him slipped inside of her.

Emma bit her bottom lip and nodded her reply.

“It might hurt,” Killian warned her, angling his hips again so that more of his erection was inside her.

Emma felt her body sizzle with heat and angeled her own hips so he was even deeper inside of her, relishing in the burn that came with his girth, her hand gripping his bicep through the welcomed pain. “It’d fucking better,” she ground out in frustration.

Killian smirked, watching her face contort with every inch of him that slid inside of her. There were not many people who could take an Alpha’s cock, not all of it anyway, but there were some, like Emma, who would revel in the pain, and he loved watching them take him in. No one though had taken quite so much as Emma. She was made differently it seemed, needed him it seemed, perfectly accommodating his girth and his length, getting wetter as he pushed his way in.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you, love?” Killian grinned wickedly, letting himself relax a little now that he was half way in. As much as he enjoyed being as close to Emma’s face as possible whilst she took him in, he knew that she was nearing her Beta threshold for him at this angle. Her body could only take so much, so after he saw her tell, when her brows knitted together in just such a way, he sat back, skimming his hands down her legs as he did.

The sound Emma made was intoxicating, her small nod his only answer. He wasn’t even entirely sure she had even heard him speak at first, but when he settled himself back on his heels and slipped from her core, she whined with the loss of him.

“What...what’s wrong?” Emma breathed, already halfway gone. Her eyes fluttered open and she struggled to focus on the Alpha between her legs.

Killian let his head roll to one side, lazily stroking his length that sat proudly in his hand. “Nothing,” he assured her with a smirk. “You just need a moment.”

“I didn’t earlier,” she winked, biting her finger coyly.

“You didn’t want my knot earlier,” Killian reminded her with a raised brow.

Emma sat up, shuffling back on the bed. “Hmm,” she hummed. Her foot found his leg, tracing a line up the inside of his thigh until she found the apex, the heel of it resting against his balls and her toes curling against his cock. "So, what your saying is there is more of you?" She bit her lip, kneading his length with her foot. "You have more to give?"

Her eyes were practically wide with glee at the mere thought of getting any more of the man in front of her. Of the Alpha. Killian knew she was trying to flatter him, and her foot tickling his cock didn't help him stay focused on the task at hand, which was making sure Emma fully understood what it meant to take all of him. He had met plenty of Beta women who thought they would be the one to take the whole Alpha cock, and he knew just as many, if not more Alphas who would boast about splitting a Beta wide open with their girth.

Killian moved his hand to her foot, halting her assault on his genitals, a move that offered him a pout from the blonde beauty before him. "What I'm saying, is, I've never given you all of me before."

"Selfish, Mr. Jones," Emma chided playfully.

"I'm not joking when I say it will hurt you, Emma, and that's the last thing I want." Killian watched the energy burn out from behind her eyes, his thumb brushing back and forth over the same patch of skin on her ankle in silent apology.

"You could never hurt me," Emma told him softly, a small smile accompanying her words. They were real, her flirtatiousness simmering just below the surface for now, and she gave him a small nod of agreement. "I know you, Killian, and you're a good man. What was it you told me the first time we did this?"

Killian frowned, confusion covering his face, so Emma out him out of his misery.

"You told me that the best thing to minimise my pain was an orgasm, and fuck, Killian, if you didn't make sure I was, how did you put it? 'Nice and wet', I think, were your words."

"You remember that?"

"Cringey, I know, but they were not a lie." Emma smiled at him, that genuine smile that he already knew she reserved just for him. "I don't think I've ever come so hard in all my life."

Killian gave her a wicked, sly grin, and tugged her leg, hard a fast, until she was sliding down the pillows and back into her original position with him between her legs. He gave his wrist a quick flick, pumping his length back into hardness at the sight of her legs falling open, the scent of her setting off his saliva glands and making him swallow hard.

"Would the lady like a repeat performance?" Killian growled, sliding his fingers through her folds to collect some of her nectar there.

It glistened on his fingers as he smeared it up and over her clit, the nerve hub screaming out when the cool air of the room hit it's scolding temperature. Emma craned her neck to see what he was doing to her, the slow drag of his hand up and down his cock making her shudder with excitement. She was ready to vibrate herself into non existence, her back arching off the bed when Killian slapped her clit with his erection once, twice, three times before she reached down, knocked Killian's hand aside, and slid his cock through the dampness below right to where she needed him the most.

"Fuck me-," Emma exhaled hard, slamming her head into the pillows behind her.

She had never guided anyone into herself before, unless he was made of silicone, and she let out a steady moan at the repeat sensation of Killian filling her up once more. At around half his length, he stopped, watching her intently for any sign of pain, until pulling almost all the way out and then slipping back into her. With every shallow thrust, Killian felt Emma relax a little more, even canting her hips in time with his and allowing him to slip in and over her g-spot a little bit quicker each time.

Killian could have used his tongue or even his hand, but he knew that with a little gentle persuasion, Emma body would and could bend to his will. She was ablaze, burning up from the inside out, and with every steadily increasing thrust came an equally elevated pitch in groans. Killian paused briefly to set her feet on his hips, restricting his entry to only a comfortable length whilst allowing him to quicken his pace and thus ensuring Emma remained unhurt. A quick, calculated move saw his thumb finding her clit, striking over the nerve bundle in time with his thrusts, watching, waiting for the telltale shake in Emma's thighs that signalled her release.

"Good girl," Killian soothed when Emma let out a moan. He increased his speed, short, shallow thrusts that stretched her in such a way that she cried out with near completion. "Such a delicious smelling cunt too, and you’re not even there yet."

“So close,” she breathed, her whole body twitching.

“You’re lovely, Emma, like this,” Killian praised, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her stomach. Her skin burned his but was instantly cooled by the thin layer of sweat that Emma’s body had created to try and cool the inferno hers was engulfed in. “For me,” he growled possessively into her navel.

“Only you,” Emma cried, so close to the edge she tried and failed to balance the level of her voice.

Killian had told himself over and over that her words would never have any effect on him, no matter what she might say, but Emma had a way of getting inside of his skin that he had never known before. Everything about her called the beast inside him, his baser instincts clawing their way closer to the surface with every sound she made or touch she made to his body. It wasn’t her intention to make him feel any of the things he was, he was sure of it, but damn if he wasn’t already addicted to everything about her.

“Kiss me,” Emma sighed, her voice so quiet that Killian wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. When she reached out for him, eyes closed and fingers extended to what lie beyond her open legs, grinning when she made contact with the soft fur of his stomach, a grin broke out over her perfect lips through hurried pants. “Kiss me, Killian, now!”

Her words were a demand, and usually not a turn on for him, but Killian found himself complying, dropping forward, bracing his hands on either side of her face and pressing his mouth to hers, open ever so slightly, tongues tasting, exploring, half of his cock still inside of her as Emma came undone beneath him. Her body spasmed, her thighs shaking and clamping to the side of his hips, feet hanging limply over the curve of his calves as Killian stroked her down from her high, whole hand massaging the length of her upper legs with a satisfied groan.

“Mmm,” Emma hummed contently. “I love being kissed when I come.”

“Duly noted,” Killian nodded, pushing himself back up and taking her in. Emma got more and more beautiful with every encounter, he was sure. “Although, if you want my knot,” he droned seductively, shuffling back until he pulled out of her and tried to ignore her whine of detest as he encouraged her to roll onto her stomach. “You’re going to need another one.”

Killian’s hands were on her back, massaging circles with just the right amount of force to make her shiver with every sweep of his talented fingers. In the little time he had known her, Killian had discovered that when Emma came, she came hard, so he figured a little relaxing but sensual massage between orgasms was justified. He kneaded the skin of her thighs, a little rougher than he had ever before because he knew she liked it that way, and rejoiced in the noises she made, half whimpering and half growling as she buried her face into the plush cushion.

“Stop,” she whined, her words muffled by the pillow.

Killian let out a hearty laugh that shook his whole body and had his cock bobbing against her plump, round arse. “You don’t mean that,” he chuckled, his voice gravelly and darkened by his own arousal. “Do you, love?” He teased, kissing between each bump of her spine until he reached its base, and content her nerves were heightened enough to make her shudder, ghosted his lips over the skin there with the promise of more.

Emma lifted her head when he paused. “Fuck, no.” She gave him a sultry glare over her shoulder, blonde hair slightly askew and fallen over her face.

“Good. Now,” Killian began through a grunt as he skimmed his hands over the curve of her hips, pressing firmly into her flesh and hoisting her arse into the air. Emma squealed excitedly and he couldn’t stop the throb of pleasure that overtook him again. “Present.”

Emma gulped hard, burying her face back into the pillow and making sure she was in the position Killian wanted, even if he had said this wasn’t about making him feel good, she still wanted to make him. She’d read things about Alphas, about how knotting was a personal thing and that they could control it, so if she wanted it, then she was willing to play her part in getting it.

Killian couldn’t help the snarl that audibly escaped his mouth when Emma wiggled her arse at him and when she moved her knees apart, and her scent hit him, he was even more gone. Emma was incredible, Beta or not, and he was finding it hard to contain his knot beneath his grip as he grabbed the base of his cock and willed it away. The last thing he wanted was a premature pop, and as if his body wasn’t his own, he found himself kneading one of the globes her arse with his free hand and licking his lips when her glistening nectar began to drip from her and gravitate towards the bed.

“Gods, love, you’re so, so wet,” he gulped, the last word catching in his throat. The only reply he got from Emma was another muffled hum of agreement, and when he slipped a greedy, exploratory finger through her silky folds and then to his lips, he immediately needed more.

Killian rearranged himself, scooting back until he was on all fours behind her and face to face with her dripping sex. A hand on each cheek spread her wider for him, his tongue wasting no time in diving in to taste what he had craved for most of the evening. She tasted like their earlier fuck, the coppery tang of blood where his girth had stretched her finding refuge on his tongue. Emma pushed back into his face, swaying her hips to try and gain some sort of increased friction, but Killian held her still with a firm grip on her hips, swallowing her down like a hungry wolf.

“Don’t move, sweetheart, I’m not done tasting you yet.”

Emma’s eyes rolled back in her head when his tongue found her again, the flat edge lapping over her clit with each swipe, the tip stiffening to delve into her centre immediately afterwards. Killian was certainly all about making her feel good, with both his actions and his words. Fuck, she had never experienced talk like it, such eroticism that had her wondering how much of it was real and how much of it was because he was being paid. Not that she cared because as Killian left her, cold air invading the parts he had lavished upon with his tongue, her whine of anguish was rewarded with the tip of him pressing into her once more.

“Oh, fuck,” she sang through gritted teeth.

When he was halfway into her again, Killian paused and let her relax to his size. “Emma?” He coaxed, rubbing the small of her back through her groan and holding her steady as she tried to push back onto him. “Love?”

“Yes?” She didn’t even recognise the pleasure induced hiss that left her mouth as her own voice.

“You’ll let me know if I hurt you, won’t you?” Killian’s voice had changed, miraculously kind and unlike any other Alpha in this position. Closer to his rut, instinct would have taken over and would have had him buried to the hilt inside of her, pushing to fill her with his seed, like all Alphas craved. The fact that he was able to control his need surprised even him because Emma was a specimen to behold and he wasn’t sure how long he could actually last now that she was wet, primed and wanton in front of him, begging for his knot. “Please, say it.”

“Yes,” Emma sighed in a daze. “Please...just...don't stop.”

Killian hadn’t even realised his plea was out loud until Emma nodded into the pillow tucked under her chin and let out a silent, orgasmic scream as she inched back onto his length guided by his hands. She was ready and she wanted him, knot and all, and in the exact moment the wiry hairs on his stomach brushed against the smooth, pert skin of her behind, Killian knew Graham could take his contract and shove it right up his wannabe Alpha arse.

“Fuck,” Killian hissed, dragging a clawed hand down her spine as gently as he could muster with her heat enveloping the whole of him. “Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he grunted in a quaking voice. He felt dizzy, the room spinning, and he leaned forward and rested his forehead to her back to steady himself. “Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he repeated with a sly grin that he pressed to her skin for a rewarding kiss.

Emma had no words, just her body, so she clenched her muscles to jumpstart him back into action. Their limited window to be together was closing, and she’d be damned if she was letting Killian go without getting what he had promised. Emma leaned forward, arching her back and grinding herself back onto Killian length with a content sigh, the first few thrusts really opening her up all the way to her insides, but the few that followed were more comfortable. Killian let her set the pace, watching as his cock disappeared inside of her with every bob, her breath leaving her lungs every time he bottomed out inside of her, pulling his knot back to the surface where it threatened to pop once more.

“Killian, I…,” Emma panted, her movements back into his length becoming erratic at best.

“It’s alright, love,” Killian soothed, helping her onto all fours and nudging her legs even further apart with his knees. “Just let go,” he bid, taking over her movements and setting a new pace that had her toes curling. “I’ve got you,” he promised.

She was close, he could tell, and if there was any way he was going to be able to last, he needed to make sure that they came together. Killian skimmed his hands over her back again, her porcelain skin shimmering in the darkness as he hooked his hands over her shoulders and pulled her back onto his length, ending each thrust with a powerful snap of his hips. Emma gasped but he’d heard it before and knew it wasn’t in pain, just the sound she made as she scaled the heights of her own pleasure, and he wanted more.

Killian grit his teeth, jaw muscles clenched so tightly he thought he might crack one at any moment, but in the split second it took him to wrap his hand around Emma’s hair, bunching it into a loose ponytail in his fist and changing the angle of his hips, she was coming, shaking uncontrollably as he pounded into her the last few times before, coated in her juices that seemed endless, Killian’s knot exposed itself and he cried out, pushing it into her deliciously welcoming core.

The second he was inside of her he felt panic, not because he had so brazenly flaunted Humbert’s contract, but because the way Emma’s muscles massaged his length and coaxed out his own release, something he has convinced himself he could forego but had been helpless to avoid.

“Don’t come in my wife.”

Graham’s words echoed in his head, which was still spinning from Emma, as intoxicating as she was. She collapsed and let out a cry of pain when he fell on top of her, eager to not hurt her more by pulling out his knot too soon.

“Easy, love,” Killian said softly, though his voice was a little shaky. “Lie still.”

He managed to get them onto their side, tucking Emma’s legs up to her chest as far as she was comfortable with and delicately trailing his hand over her shivering shoulders. On closer inspection her whole body was quivering, her skin slightly damp and her scent had changed too. It was puzzling, feral in nature and something that Killian was sure he was imagining. When Emma pressed herself into him, her shoulder blades sticking to the slight dampness of his chest hair, she smiled and hummed, the sound vibrating right through them.

“How do you feel?” Killian worried. He couldn’t help it. His Alpha self was screaming out to care, to nurture and to protect, even though he was probably the one causing her most harm right now. “Are you alright?”

“Mmmmmm,” Emma hummed again, moving her head so Killian could rest his arm down underneath it. She replaced her head on his arm, interlocked their fingers, and pressed her lips to his bicep.

“Is that good?” Killian smirked, squeezing her fingers.

He knew he felt good, Gods above, she made him feel things he never had before. Better than good, in fact. Emma had a way of making him forget every one of his woes and why he had taken this job in the first place. He couldn’t think of anywhere else he would have rather been in that moment, wrapped up and knot deep inside of the beautiful woman who hadn’t just captured his heart, but had held it out, vulnerable and fragile, and hadn’t taken advantage of the fact, gracious enough to only take the love she thought she deserved, even if Killian knew she was worth far more than she had ever been led to believe before.

“It’s good,” Emma nodded, nuzzling into the crook of his elbow and bending his arm until she could kiss his fingers joins with his. She let her lips linger, enjoying the way he tasted when she let his arm fall back down to the bed and her tongue swept across her bottom lip.

“You’re comfortable?” Killian fretted, but that just earned him a swat from her free hand.

“Will you stop? Killian, I’m fine. More than fine,” she beamed, enjoying the way her muscles still fluttered because of his invading knot.

“What’s more than fine?” Killian teased, nuzzling into her hair that had fallen over her shoulders and kissing her neck.

His question threw her for a second because she struggled to find the correct words to accurately describe what she felt. It might have been love, but Emma wasn’t sure she had ever known that before. It felt good, she knew that much, but was more than lust. A comfortable silence fell over them, wherein Killian busied himself with fluffing the sheet over the top of them whilst making sure he moved the absolutely smallest amount, so as not to cause her any undue pain. Emma felt her lips curve into a beaming smile and reached behind her, threading her fingers in his hair and holding his face back to her neck where he peppered her with more kisses.

“This,” Emma cooed. “This is perfect.”

Killian couldn’t have agreed more. His hand slipped under the sheet and over her ribcage, his forearm settling under her breasts as he pulled her to his chest even harder, reluctant to let her go. He shifted his legs a little, trying to tangle them around hers, but the movement made Emma wince and stiffen in his arms.

“Love?” Killian asked concerned.

“I’m okay,” Emma told him softly, stroking his forearms in reassurance. “Just a little,-”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Killian whispered into her hair. He kissed the back of her head and hooked a hand under her knee, moving it closer to her chest and relieving some of the tearing sensations she was feeling at her entrance. “It won’t be much longer,” he assured her, never wanting his knot to recede so he could hold her like this forever.

“I promise I’m okay,” Emma smiled, pecking his hairy forearm with a kiss. “I wanted this. It’s not that bad, just…”

“Just what, love?” Killian smirked, craning his neck to watch a blush bloom out over her cheeks and his hands explored further up her thigh to where they were joined.

“It feels so good,” Emma began but the last word caught in her throat when Killian’s fingers brushed around her entrance, the still hypersensitive nerves pounding with blood and excitement of his touch. She was inexplicably wet, still so very wet, and she felt his smirk turn into a full blown smile as he nudged his nose into the skin behind her ear at his discovery of her juices coating her inner thigh.

“So I can feel,” Killian teased with a dark tone that had a shiver rattling down her spine. He nudged his hips forward and made sure he was inside of her even deeper than before, his hand gripping her inner thigh so tightly he was worried he might blemish her skin. “Gods, you’re amazing,” he growled, inhaling her scent. “You’re going to keep me hard for hours.”

Emma gasped when he pushed deeper, the nerves inside of her core igniting, synapsing firing and a new wave of lubrication seeping from their join. She pinched her eyes closed, white dots sparkling behind her eyelids, another orgasm seemingly just beyond the horizon of anything she had known before. Killian, knot and all, rock solid inside of her was enough for her body to react again, even without the friction of his thrusts, and when his hand explored between her folds, it was just too much.

“I can’t come again,” Emma whined, her own words foreign in her ears. Not that she could even hear anything but the high pitched buzz of a pending release, the build up alone rendering her deaf. Her head fell back onto his chest and Killian just grinned against her skin, scraping his teeth over the curve of her shoulder joint when he finally found her clit.

“Yes, you can,” Killian commanded, circling an essence covered finger over her clit, softly at first. “The sounds you make, the way your body falls apart, Emma-,” Killian growled her name through clenched teeth and she felt her stomach fall away when his hips ground into her.

“Keep talking,” Emma whimpered, holding his hand between her legs where his fingers were deftly stroking her clit up and down, nudging the bundle from side to side and making her squeal.

“Fuck,” Killian grunted, increasing his pace. “The way you smell when you come all over me, like sweetness and redemption.” Her hand gripped harder at his wrist, but he just moved his hand faster, wishing there was more of him to give her. “The way I make that happen-,”

“Sweet fucking Christ, Killian, I’m gonna come!”

Emma went rigid in his arms, every muscle in her entire body contracting at the same time. Even her lungs stopped working and she couldn’t breathe, Killian’s hand on her stomach over her diaphragm the only thing that was helping her to remember to inhale. He held her tightly, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through her, her body fighting the bulge of his muscles as he wrapped her in his arms and let her writhe against his knot. He could feel her muscles, featherlite flutters against the whole length of him, massaging the bulbs of his knot with every spasm in time with her heart beating at one hundred miles an hour in her chest.

The weight in her eyelids lifted, the blurring in her vision clearing and she could suddenly breathe again, the burning sensation in her lungs ceasing. When her hearing returned all she could make out was Killian laughing, his proud sounding chuckle vibrating through both of them as he bundled her up in his arms once more and crushed his lips to the side of her slightly sweaty face. She laughed with him, pure, unadulterated joy rumbling from deep down in her belly that had him wishing she could love him in the same way he now knew he loved her.

Oh fuck.

“Now, it’s perfect,” Killian smirked, tucking them back up in the sheet.

[specialagentsnark]

Marriage of Convenience - Chapter 4

It’s Fili Friday! You know what that means. Chapter 4!

Chapter 4

They met weekly after the midsummer festival. Magnus grew quickly and by Durin’s Day, he stood as tall as the bottom of Fili’s ribcage. He knew various commands for everyday behavior but soon learned that he was also to be a guard dog for Sigrid, ready to attack and chase off anyone she indicated, unrelenting until she called him off. They practiced with Fili and Kili in full armor and heavily padded clothing until they were sure the dog would guard Sigrid against anyone when she gave the command.

With the first snows of winter, the parade of suitors dried up almost entirely. Only one or two showing up in a month. Fili and Sigrid also had to call off their weekly meetings to train Magnus as the snows obliterated their paths and made the trek up the mountainside too difficult.

The weather was harsh in Dale and Erebor as well as the surrounding lands. Wolves started circling close to the cities. Extra guards were posted at the gates and people scrambled to secure their homes against all beasts.

One particularly wintery day, Sigrid and Magnus left her home to aid a local woman who had just had a child. Sigrid puttered around the much smaller house, cleaning and cooking while the young mother cared for her newborn until her husband could return from his duties on guard on the city wall.

When he finally returned, it was already dark out.

“Perhaps you should stay here for the night, My Lady,” the woman said after she laid her baby down for the first part of the night. “It’s getting late.”

“It would probably be for the best,” the man said. “The wolves are close to the city walls tonight. The winter is harsh for us. It can only be worse for them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to enter the city tonight.”

Sigrid smiled. “I appreciate the offer, but my home isn’t far. I have my sword and Magnus with me. We’ll be all right for the short distance.”

“My Lady, are you sure? It’s snowing as well.”

Sigrid glanced toward the window. Indeed, fat snowflakes fell outside, limiting visibility. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted as she reached for her coat.

“Be careful, My Lady,” the woman said. “If the weather is this bad tomorrow, we’ll expect you to stay home or stay here for tomorrow night if you insist on coming again.”

“I understand,” Sigrid said. She snapped her fingers and Magnus trotted to her side. “Good night,” she said, receiving the same wish in return before closing the door behind her and stepping into the cold.

“Well Magnus,” she said. “Let’s head home.”

The large hound wagged his considerably fluffy tail and gave a soft but deep woof in return. Still a puppy in heart if not in size, the hound romped in the snow around her as they walked after she gave him the go-ahead to walk as he pleased as long as he stayed in sight. Sigrid listened, noting that the guardsman had been right. The wolves were near the city.

Magnus stopped in his romping suddenly, just a street away from her home. He planted his paws where he stood and started barking loudly, his hackles rising.

“Magnus?” Sigrid asked, her hand going to the hilt of her sword. The dog shifted, standing between her and the rest of the road back the way she’d come.

He snarled and lunged forward a few feet, still barking. She was about to call him back to her and to stop his barking when a pair of wolves slunk into her limited sight. She swallowed and drew her sword.

“Wolves!” She shouted. “Wolves in the city!”

The larger of the two beasts lunged toward Magnus.

“Magnus, Inkhir!” she ordered. The dog turned and bounded back to her. The wolf followed on his heels and Sigrid darted in, holding her sword with both hands. She slipped on ice and sliced the wolf along its side instead of stabbing it clean in the chest as she’d intended. It yelped and backed away, blood dripping from the cut but its eyes still fixed on her as she scrambled back upright. Magnus barked a challenge at them.

The second wolf attacked and the first followed right behind it. Grimly, Sigrid reset her feet in the treacherous snow. This time, when she brought her sword up, she hit true, burying it into the wolf’s neck when it jumped at her. Its weight pushed her back, falling on top of her and sending her sprawling under its bulk.

“Magnus! Igrid!” she cried, trying to push the dead wolf off her even as the wolf she’d first injured bore down on her.

Her dog, though not full grown lunged to the attack, bashing into the side of the wolf and clamping his jaws on its neck and hanging on. He dug his paws into the snow and started jerking backward, trying to pull the wolf off balance. The wolf twisted and squirmed, trying to sink its teeth into Magnus.

Sigrid pushed the body off her and clambered to her feet. “Inkhir!” she shouted to her dog. He released the wolf and backed away. The wolf tried to follow but Sigrid swung her sword again, this time hitting true and cutting deep into the wolf’s neck, partially severing its head.

“Sigrid! Sigrid! Are you alright?”

She looked up from where she stood, chest heaving and adrenaline quickly leaving her system.

“Da,” she said as her father reached her side. “I’m fine.” She turned her eyes back to the wolf she’d just killed. “They’re so skinny,” she said absently. “No wonder they came into the city for food.”

“Come,” Bard said, wrapping his arm around her. “Let’s get you inside.”

She nodded and barely took a moment to call for Magnus. The dog followed her and her father the rest of the way to the house. Dimly, she heard her father ordering others to take care of the corpses and to search the rest of the streets for wolves or anyone outdoors.

The next day, Bard ordered a curfew for the safety of his citizens, sighting the wolves that had attacked Sigrid the night before. That afternoon, a contingent of dwarves led by Prince Fili arrived in the city. The prince himself came to visit Bard in his home to discuss the quartering of dwarrow soldiers to help in the defenses, considering Dale’s walls still weren’t completely repaired and to check on Sigrid.

“I’m all right,” she said for what felt like the millionth time that day. “I didn’t even get scratched.”

“Well done,” Fili said with a grin. “You truly are a warrior for all you haven’t trained long. Do you know your people have already started calling you Wolf’s Bane?”

Sigrid looked to the side, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t want such a title. I feel like I should train more after last night,” she admitted.

“Then do so,” Fili said. “There is nothing wrong with more training.”

Sigrid nodded and vowed to stay at the guard post for extra training every day. It would take some rearranging of her schedule but she felt the need and so she would do it.

“Magnus did a great job,” she said, turning the attention away from herself. She told him how the dog had warned her and then protected her and followed all the commands she’d given him. Fili grinned as she spoke and then scratched the dog’s ears, complimenting him on his good work.

“I miss seeing you,” Fili admitted once they’d exhausted the topic of her fight with the wolves the night before. “Would you mind if I wrote to you until the snows melt enough for easier travel between here and Erebor?”

‘I’d like that,” Sigrid admitted. “Not many people my age want to talk like we did when training Magnus.”

Fili laughed. “I imagine not. Men don’t seem to be as interested in running a kingdom as you seem to be.”

Sigrid blushed. “My father is going to be crowned king,” she reminded him. “I need to know how to support him but that’s not all I meant. I miss the ease of talking to you. Everyone here is too conscious of my title.”

Fili sighed. “I understand,” he said. “I’ll write you a letter as soon as I get back to the mountain. I’ll instruct the raven to stay until you write me back. Just remember to feed them or they get irritated.”

She smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

~*~*~

Unfortunately, the title Wolf’s Bane stuck. A few days after Fili left, leaving dwarrow guards to supplement Dale’s own guards against the wolves and attacks from other dark creatures, Bard called her down to the sitting room. Someone had skinned and cleaned the wolves she’d killed and brought the hides to her as trophies. The pelts were warm and would be a nice addition to the blankets on her bed until she decided what to do with them.

~*~*~

To Sigrid, Lady of Dale, Daughter of Bard the Dragonslayer

Sigrid,

As promised, I’m writing to you my first moment of time away from others since I returned to the mountain. I’m sure you’ve noticed the falling snow and the severity of the blizzard outside. Due to the weather, uncle has closed Erebor for travel for the foreseeable future. No one is allowed outside the mountain unless on the most urgent business that must be approved by Uncle. He will be sending a letter o Bard shortly to inform him of the lack of trade coming from the mountain and will be urging him to do the same for the citizens of Dale. The squad I left behind with your guards will be staying until the roads are more easily traversed as well. They will be notified but if you were to go and speak with them, offer my personal thanks to them, I’d be grateful. Hopefully, they can help with your wolf problem.

There is a benefit to all the snow at least that I think you will agree with. With the roads unpassable, foreign dignitaries and thus prospective spouses will not be able to visit. I, for one, am glad for the reprieve of watching Dwalin beat dwarrowdams in combat. He beat the last one in under a minute and left her crying like a wounded orc child. It was rather pitying, to say the least. Perhaps it was a kindness though. In my experience, the ones that fight so poorly also offer up the poorest gifts of their craft. If this were true for this particular dam, I would have had to refuse her upon sight of the gift. It’s always more distressing when I have to turn them down personally instead of Dwalin or whatever guard is with Uncle for the day. I don’t understand why they always make crowns as their gifts as well. I already have access to more of those than I could ever need. I would much rather receive something useful, like a new sword or something.

But I digress.

I just received word from a trusted source upon my return. He looked into the suitor that you had Magnus chase off most recently (at least that I’m aware of. Have you had others since the one?). Apparently, you made the right choice. You’re not the first lady of noble standing he’s attacked. There have apparently been two others that reported his actions. Luckily, both were saved by passersby. We will be sending word to his people in order to inform them of his dishonorable actions and warn them that if they do not take action, we will and they will lose Erebor’s support and trade.

Nori (do you remember him? He was part of the Company) was quite impressed with how you handled him and the wolves when he heard of it. He seems to have a soft spot where strong-willed women are concerned. I’d take advantage if I were you. He asked me to tell you that if you ever have another problem with a suitor again, he’ll take care of them for you. I don’t know if he means they’ll meet their end in a dark alley one day or if he’ll destroy their reputations. I’m sure you could ask him to do either and he would. I think he’s bored in the mountain. He has been running Dwalin ragged with his shenanigans. He loves to make a point about only being a partially reformed thief.

I told Kili about your adventure with the wolves. He doesn’t believe me. Please do us a favor when you visit and bring the wolf pelts with you. I want to be able to see the look on his face when you prove him wrong. Tauriel was more inclined to believe the story but then, I’m sure she has more experience with just how fierce Women can be, having had more personal dealings with them than Kili has. Speaking of whom, he’s just entered the room and has asked me to extend his greeti (Hello Sigrid! It’s me, Kili. Did you really kill two wolves with nothing but your sword and Magnus? I think Fili’s trying to put one over on me. He’s been awfully grumpy lately. Can you do something about that?) Please ignore him. Everyone else does when he gets like this. As I have nothing else to address in this letter, I’ll send it off to you now. I hope you are well.

-F (and K!)

PS- I’m entirely serious. Fili’s too gloomy. Cheer him up a bit, would you? Ignore him. Please feed the raven. She’s a good sort but does get a bit crotchety when she’s hungry.

~*~*~

To Fili, Son of Dis, Crown Prince Under the Mountain

Fili (and I’m guessing Kili as well?)

Thank you for your letter. I am glad to know you returned to the mountain safely, despite the blizzard. Da did receive a letter from the King Under the Mountain and has agreed that closing trade routes, for the time being, is for the best. However, we will still be sending out hunters. As we have lived our lives in these conditions (out on a lake no less!), we know how to survive. Our hunters will be fine and will hopefully bring in more game. They do not travel alone, always in small parties with hunting dogs for safety against predators such as the wolves or from wandering orcs and goblins. The rest of us will stay in the city and make do with the goods we have stored away for the winter.

Da has added a curfew for our people, requesting that everyone be inside within the hour after the sun sets to keep everyone safe from the wolves. People have also started making sure their animals are inside closed buildings. Not everyone has places in their own homes but much of Dale is still unsettled. People have started housing their sheep or goats or chickens inside some of the empty buildings. We hear the wolves at night, howling and prowling outside the city. There have been no more reports of them coming in the walls but there have been a few attempts. The guards have caught them each time. Luckily, none of either of our peoples have been killed in the attacks. I think a priority for reconstruction once the weather cooperates will be to rebuild the gates. The carpenters are already working on them as much as they can with our limited resources.

Your raven has been perfectly well-behaved since she arrived. I did feed her and that seemed to make her grateful. I’ve heard the Line of Durin can speak directly to them. Is that really the case? Can you? I wonder if it’s some sort of magic or something that some people have, such as blue eyes or red hair. Da can talk to thrushes. Honestly, so can I. I couldn’t tell anyone when I was younger. The Master of Laketown didn’t like anything he deemed unnatural so Da and I had to keep it hidden, just in case. We didn’t need anything else to set us apart from others. Now though, I speak with them frequently. Tilda, Bain, and I created a little shelter for them in our garden to keep them warm during the winter. Tilda puts fresh seed out for them daily. She chatters away with them for hours when given the chance. Bain has never indicated if he can understand them or not. I think he does but I’ve never seen him talk to them but he sure seems to listen.

I was at the guard house this morning where I took a few moments to do as you asked with the dwarrow there. They are grateful to hear your words and that you would take the time to remember them in your letter. When Captain Smytheson informed them I killed two wolves and often came to train among the guard, a few of your people offered to teach me some of their fighting techniques. I know your people can be secretive so I wanted to make sure such a thing was all right before I accepted their offer. I don’t want to create any problems.

Please give Master Nori my gratitude. The few times I’ve met him he has seemed kind and clever. His offer is one I will think on. I don’t feel well, knowing some of those that have behaved poorly with me are free to do so with someone else that doesn’t have the protection that I do. Again, I thank you for Magnus and helping me train him. He is getting stronger and larger every day and is unfailingly loyal. I hope to always remain worthy of his loyalty.

It appears that courting for your people and for mine is very different. I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what some of the things you mentioned entail. Someone must fight Master Dwalin before they can court someone? And they must make a gift? Our rituals do not require such, just the girl’s parents’ approval. Gifts may be exchanged while they court but are not required. If the couple desires to be married, the girl’s dowry is discussed but that is the closest thing to a gift, other than the engagement ring. Is it very different for your people? Are you allowed to tell me or is that a dwarf secret?

I hope the snows relent enough for the midwinter festival. It feels like it has been many years since the last time we had the opportunity to celebrate it properly. Da is planning on inviting your family and the entire Company that retook the mountain as well as other local dignitaries. Will you come if the snow isn’t too bad? Magnus misses you.

Tilda wants to go outside and build snow creatures which means Bain will instigate a snowball fight. I’ll end my letter here so that I have something to write about next time. I hope you are safe and warm in your mountain.

-S

~*~*~

To Sigrid, Lady of Dale, Daughter of Bard the Dragonslayer

Sigrid (Hi! I’m here too!),

I’m glad the raven was well-behaved. Yes, I can talk to them. You could too actually. Our feathery messengers speak Westron. For some reason though, they are selective about who they will talk to (Crotchety creatures that they are). They’ll talk to Uncle Thorin, Kili, and myself. They’ve spoken to various members of the Company (Except Bifur but he doesn’t speak Westron either) but no one else that I’m aware. They can be rather irritable so we don’t spend a lot of time just talking to them. We give them shiny things and food to entice them to help us (Manipulative little scavengers).

Thank you for talking with the guards. There is no secret to our weapons training. You are more than welcome to take them up on their offer. It may be interesting to see how our style differs from yours as well as how they are similar. I look forward to seeing your progress. Perhaps a rematch from the summer festival is in order? (Fee says you’re good with a sword and I quite agree. I saw you almost best him over the summer. Ever try archery? Any other weapon?)

As for courting, yes, it does seem like our rituals are different (So glad I don’t have to deal with this. I found my One so I only have to cover the basics which is fun. Who wouldn’t want to give gifts to their intended?). Usually, a dwarf waits for a dwarrowdam to approach him. Only about one-third of all dwarrow are women so they initiate courtship so as to not waste her time by unwanted advances (Seems a bit backward to me. I’d think they’d like attention from multiple dwarrow so they know all the options they have). Usually, she presents her intended with a gift to show her mastery of a craft. If the dwarf accepts, they begin the actual courtship which consists of gift exchanges, negotiations, and time spent together (Rather tedious if you ask me). For the more old-fashioned families (Read stuffy) or the royal family (Again read stuffy), the dwarrowdam must challenge for courtship before giving her gift. She will fight a member of the family or, in the royal family’s case, a representative (Usually Dwalin in our case. He almost always stands as Uncle’s guard). This displays her determination and battle skills. More and more families are moving back to this tradition as times become more perilous and battle skills are becoming more and more important (Rather silly if you ask me. We all are trained to fight since we’re dwarflings).

It’s interesting to me that so little is needed for a courtship for you. Do you not have a say in it?

Is your midwinter festival like Yule? Or is it like your midsummer festival? Granted, part of Yule is like that with dancing and feasting (So much food. I wonder if Bilbo will help with the baking for our family), but it’s also for families and other traditions. It lasts for twelve days. I will encourage Uncle to accept your invitation when it arrives if travel to Dale is possible (Even if the snow isn’t great we may still try to come). Give Magnus an extra scratch from me. I miss him too (Me too! I miss the ball of fluff).

You were correct in assuming that Kili read your letter over my shoulder, as you can see (Hope you don’t mind but I saw my name on it). He saw your words about Tilda wanting to build snow sculptures and it sparked his own desire (It was a great idea. I love snow). He gathered as many dwarrow as he could, including me before I could finish reading your letter, the twit (Oi!), and dragged us all outside the front gates. We built snow dwarrow and other things and then had a rather large snowball fight (So epic! You should have been there. We had at least twenty people involved). Bifur and Bofur put everyone else’s sculptures to shame when they built a giant Smaug (It really was amazing). So many were impressed by it and others claimed they could do better that we’re now going to hold a competition with ten gold coins for the winner. Kili thinks there should be multiple categories as not everyone is a trained artisan (Well it’s true). He believes those with such training -carvers, masons, etc.- will have an unfair advantage over those that don’t. I reminded him that he and I both have artisan training and to stop complaining (I wasn’t complaining, just making a point). He threw a snowball at me for that comment (Got him right on the side of the head too. Snow in his ear and down his collar. Ha!). I shoved him into a drift. You should have seen him come spluttering out of it, snow clinging to his hair and what whiskers he has. Made him look as old as Balin but much more rosy-cheeked (It was horrible. Got snow down my trousers and everything. Some big brother he is, right?). Even Bilbo came out to join in the fun. He’s not a big fan of winter (He doesn’t wear shoes. No wonder he hates it. I bet his feet are always freezing in the mountain), but he is pretty good at throwing snowballs. I think he won that fight (I’m pretty sure he could take on the entire mountain and win). Then again, I remember him being a good shot with the flaming pinecones we hit the wargs and orcs with too before the Eagles came.

We hope you’re still warm in Dale. Stay safe from the wolves.

-F (and K)

(PS- Your letter really cheered up Fili! Good job!) Ignore him.

[glamrockmonarch]

Heeeey! If it’s not too late for the 70s guys requests would you please write the group and reader playing Truth or Dare and the other guys try to make funny and dirty stuff for reader and Brian because they know these both secretly like each other? It sounds like a mess, I apologise!

Dare you - 70′s Brian May

A/N: This sounds great, what are you talking about? Let’s have it! 

Edit: I had to post this like 5 times because Tumblr was being dumb - again. 

It had been a long day for you. After waking up late and barely making it to class you had rushed off to work at a local shop where you were given the precious task of folding clothes and rearranging the racks. By the time your shift was over the store looked flawless again and you sighed knowing two things: by Monday the store would be a complete mess again, and you had to get back home and get ready for your friends’ gig.

While Freddie had taken a few classes with you, you became close and once he got into a band and called it “queen”, you had to become their number one fan - regardless of what Mary had to say about that.

Your friendship with the group was great, honest and evident; and although you were still too blind or maybe too cocky to admit it, the tall guitarist was the number one reason why you were so eager to get home and dress up. And it was just what you did. Wearing a pair of black bell bottoms and a bright pink blouse with a deep cleavage that reached far down to the exact point where it met with your bright silver belt. You tossed your hair over your shoulders once you slipped the large fluffy coat on, curled and messy as it was you stepped on your platforms and put some gloss on your lips before grabbing your bag and stepping out of the house.

Taking a short trip on the bus and walking the rest of the way you arrived at the bar where the band was playing that night. You could see the line to get in from a block away and you thanked the heavens that you were going in through the back as the band had done as well.

Taking a turn behind an ally you saw the faint light of cast over the ground as a door was left open, the band’s ban was parked out there. Near the door, you spotted the figure of a man smoking, not too tall, small and lean.

“Hey, Rog.” You offered him a smile, your face illuminated by the light coming from inside.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said in his usual raspy voice. “Looking fancy, are you trying to impress me?”

“Only if it’s working,” you joke, sticking your hip to the side as you pulled your coat closed with your hands still inside the pockets.

Stepping forward he offered you a drag, a playful smile took over his features as usual. You and Roger have a close relationship but the drummer was sure that Brian had his eye on you, so he never did more than flirt with you - as he would do with any girl crossing his path.

Declining you took one of your hands out of the pockets of your coat and pointed at the door.

“Brian’s probably getting his eye poked by Fred, you know how it is…” Roger shrugged and put the fag back between his lips.

With a chuckle, you nodded and walked inside knowing that the blond drummer would come to meet you inside after he was done smoking.

Inside, you found the boys sitting backstage as still as they could. Which was not much. You giggled as you looked at Deaky playing on his bass half absentmindedly. He had a look of pure concentration on his face, although the boys were rarely calm before a gig.

On the other side of the room, Brian talked to Freddie about his favourite subject at the moment: space dust.

“Yes, Fred! And what a wonderful question, it contains complex organic compounds…”

You could tell that Freddie was listening, at the same time as he did so he asked the guitarist questions about it. Whether it was to learn more or to distract him from the black liner pencil he was perilously dragging along the bottom of his eye, was a mystery.

You sat next to Fred and watched him go when he was done with Brian’s makeup and the tall poodle-man blinked, at last, the two of them turned their heads to you.

“Oh, hello.” Brian remained as cordial as always.

“You are late, darling, very late!” Freddie accused you, regardless he kissed your cheek as his most normal form of saying hello. “I’m so glad you are here, now help Brian with his nails, he is always so messy…”

Brian seemed to blush but you smiled at him and took your coat off, leaving it on the side of the sofa.

“Catching a cold tonight, Y/N?” Deaky wondered with a humorous grin when he came to say hello, handing you Fred’s white nail polish so you did Brian’s nails.

Gasping at his comment, you failed to answer, thankfully, Roger walked through the door in time to save the situation.

“I’d say a man is more likely, Deaky…” He winked at the bassist.

After getting Brian’s nails done and listening to his lesson on Cosmic Dust you were left with nothing else to do but to go out to the bar and get a drink while they put their stuff together and prepared to go on.

“Rock ‘em, rock ‘em!” You sang to the four men.

Patting Roger’s head and sharing a short smile with Brian as he sat with his guitar, his hair bouncing around his face while he made sure it was perfectly tuned, his lips parted and a slight pout on them when he looked up and smiled back at you on your way out.

The bar was packed, people squashed together near the stage to have a good view of the band playing tonight. Queen had rapidly gotten recognition and it made you happy to be with them from the beginning, pride overflowing from you any time they played a show like this.

With a drink in your hand, you watched the boys go on stage and play. Every one of them had fun, enjoying the show as much as their audience. Freddie was such an interesting character when he performed that you knew there was something happening with you when you noticed your gaze diverting from him more and more, instead your eyes would find Brian and you would be lost in the sounds of his peculiar instrument. The Red Special, he called it.

You lost track of time, lost in the guitar and the look on Brian’s face as he focused on his fingers grazing the strings of his beloved guitar. You somehow pushed your way through the crowd and landed a precious spot near the side of the stage where you had a perfect view of both lead singer and guitarist. Your eyes met Brian’s a few times throughout the show, you sang along the entire time although your thoughts were pulled on his direction.

Maybe Brian had little time to think of anything other than the band and his precious studies. He was, and you knew it, dedicated to science. Sometimes you wondered if maybe that was one of the things that made him so attractive to you…after all, you could not count the times you had let him rest his head on your lap while he read something from one of his thick math books for homework. Or how many times you had bought - and read  - a scientific magazine only because an article reminded you of Brian. When you came back to reality the show had ended and the boys were waving at the crowd before stepping off the stage.

As the boys came out to the bar you spotted a table reserved for them and walked up to the band.

“Well, somehow you’ve outdone yourselves,” you say, all of them looking shiny with sweat. “again.”

Roger wrapped his arm around your shoulders and nodded as he called the bartender and ordered drinks for everyone.

“This way…” Roger handed you one of the beers and held his in his hand as he led you to their reserved table.

Everyone had a drink in their hand when you sat down. Seeing as it was a booth, you sat in between Roger and Brian, across from Freddie and Deaky.

“So, Y/N,” Freddie had a quick look around before continuing with his eyes fixed on you. “did you catch that man?”

You let out a giggle and a large smile. If you had even caught someone’s attention you would not know! You had been too distracted by Brian to even try to pay attention to the people around you.

“The night is young, Fred. Why? Have you got any ideas?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

Freddie shared a look with Roger, this did not go unnoticed by you, nor by Brian. The guys had been trying to get him to admit he had a crush on you for weeks now. It simply seemed as if they were ready to put him on the spot that night and he was fearful of it.

The truth was that Brian not just liked you, he was head over heels for you. You were so much of what he did not dare to be, your parents were so free with you, letting do with your life as you pleased. You studied design and you were great at it, but you always had time to learn from your friends, which charmed Brian. You were never too busy to listen to him going over his next presentation about something you definitely had no previous knowledge of. Brian would also often find you helping Deaky with the amps, learning your way around tools from the bassist. Roger was, of course, your favourite source of entertainment; one could regularly find you having a heated debate about politics with him, and somehow it did not matter how bad it was because once it was done you could go back to joking in seconds. Brian just loved how carefree you could be. How easy life seemed to be with you… and you were so gorgeous too. He was always wondering why Roger had not made a move on you. And he knew his friend had not tried anything with you because Roger would have told him, you were not one to let go so easily.

At that moment, Roger emptied his beer and sat the bottle down on the table.

“I’m feeling like playing something, Fred.” He tilted the bottle in his hand.

You thought they were joking, but by the looks of things, the boys were in the mood for a game of truth or dare. With Deaky taking the first bullet you watched Brian struggle to come up with a question to make after the bassist chose truth.

“Were you the one who spilled whiskey on my jacket the other night?”

Everyone at the table rolled their eyes.

Once it was your turn to take the fall, you stared straight at Fred. Of course, he smiled a bright grin at you, letting go of his self-conscious ways in the comfortable company of his friends.

“Truth or dare, dear?” Fred leaned forward on the table and held your gaze as you answered out of instinct.

“Dare,” you said almost too aggressively.

“Give Rog a lap dance.” Freddie let out, making you do a double take.

“What?” You looked back at Roger, he leant back on the seat and smiled down at you, “do you want a lap dance?”

He shrugged in response, tilting his head with a cocked brow.

“That’s ridiculous!”

Brian intervened, but at the moment you gave a quick look around the bar and saw that there were little people paying attention at what you were doing so you pushed past Roger and pulled a chair from another table and waited for Roger to sit down. Unbeknownst to you, Roger gave Brian a wink that made the guitarist’s blood burn with envy or was it…jealousy?

You gave Roger the lap dance, trying to not make a big deal out of it as you moved your hips along to an imaginary song. You watched the boys on the table, all of them leaning forward but for some reason, it looked like they were holding back laughter as their gazes betrayed them and they took glances at Brian who watched for Roger’s hands, just scowling at his inability to do anything to pull you away from his friend. Brian thought for a second that Roger was finally tired of waiting for him to make a move and was now taking his chance, but he was too smart to be fooled: his bandmates were pushing him to the edge and he had to chill or it would work.

You turned and pushed Roger’s legs apart as you danced for him, looking down at his face as he stared with a foolish grin on his face. He was not meant to enjoy it but hey...he did! He also wondered how could it be possible that Brian held back from making a move on you, you were hot, a real beauty. Why Brian was being such an idiot was beyond the drummer.

You suddenly stepped back from your friend and went to sit back next to Brian.

“Done. Spin it, lover boy.” You looked back at Roger on the chair.

He cleared his throat and pulled the chair to the table as he sat on the edge of the table, spinning the bottle. It landed with Deaky ministering the question or dare as necessary, and Brian choosing what it would be. Being in no mood to jump around or make a fool of himself at the bar, he figured the safest option was to go for truth.

“So, Brian... that song we played tonight, White Queen, the new one...who did you write it for?”

You leant back on the seat you shared with him and your eyes widened with expectation as you recalled a beautiful song with a long long heartfelt solo, you replayed Brian’s pouty lips in your mind and your gaze fell on them at that moment when the man in question looked trapped like a fly on a spiderweb.

“I...” Brian looked back at you and you noticed his cheeks and ears turn a bright pink colour. “It was for Y/N...”

You straightened up and put your hands on the table, a little blush creeping on your face.

“Really?” You half-smiled as Brian nodded, his curls bounced up and down after he stopped. “Oh, you’ll have to let me hear it again sometime this week.”

“You liked it?” Brian wondered, zoning his friends out.

Brian’s eyes scanned your gleeful expression as you nodded with your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Your playing is hypnotizing Bri, I am a bit flattered...although, wasn’t that a sad song?”

“Your turn to spin it!” Fred interrupted your little side conversation with Brian.

Brian had to pick between truth or dare, and why not, he chose truth once more. Unfortunately, Deaky did not ask him the same kind of easy question as he had asked him. No... Deaky went straight for blood.

“The other day I swear I heard you in the bathroom...but you kept talking to Y/N, what were you doing in there?” Deaky was obviously playing stupid.

Uncomfortable as if was for Brian, he did turn bright pink, he looked away and decided to ask for a dare instead.

“Oh, just answer the question!” Fred urged him.

After calling out his friends by saying they knew what he was doing, he was forced by Roger and Fred to say it. You were a little surprised to hear it, but not really stunned by this revelation - you could not tell the number of times you had pretended your fingers were Brian’s, although you hoped you would not be asked anything that would put you in the spot like that.

 For the next round, the boys chose dare and you watched Roger attempt an Irish dance, John drink a pint upsidedown, and Freddie try to walk around the bar in your shoes. Somehow Brian found himself saying dare too, and this time the boys were not that playful, forcing Brian to decide whether he wanted to kiss you or the bartender.

“He’s all the way across the bar, Brian...I think it’s an easy pick.” Roger commented, pointing at you with his thumb.

Saying nothing you waited for Brian to simply lean down and give you a peck on the lips, yet Brian sighed heavily and pushed his hair back. He was not the type of person to do these stupid dares so you were not surprised that he chose not to go up to the bartender. What surprised you was that he put his arm over the back of the seat you shared and leant down, tilting his head he brushed his lips against yours.

Your heartbeat quickened as you kissed him back, automatically you reached up to cup his face, softly holding him as your lips refused to let go of each other. Brian’s nose rubbed yours and you felt the corners of your lips move up unwillingly as your lips followed his, sliding your hands down his neck you felt his heartbeat match yours under your fingertips.

“Finally...” You heard somewhere next to you

Brian pulled away, his eyes opening now. When you opened yours you saw him staring and you ignored your friends when you ran your thumb across his cheek. 

“I think these idiots know something that we don’t,” you whispered.

Brian blinked in confusion, chuckling you pecked his lips again.

“That I like you, Bri...” you admitted.

“Briaaaaaan...” Roger complained, “say it, would you?”

Brian’s concerned and annoyed gaze fell on his friend for a second, your giggles brought his attention back to you.

“I like you too.”

Brian smiled back at you at last and you brought your lips to his, enjoying the new feeling of his lips on yours when they moved together for a long moment. Forgetting that you were with other people until you came back for air and noticed the seats around you were empty.

[jugpea]

I’ve got you, babe

↪

jughead jones x sweet pea summary: a soft jughead upset over his drunk dad, ft. comforting sweet pea a/n: I did this sorta pre-relationship, and it’s like 1:30 in the morning and this was the first thing that popped into my head. I feared if I didn’t write it now, I never would, so I hope this is enough for you. If ya’ll have any other requests, please send them here! 

Once FP was tucked soundly into his bed, face shoved deep into the pillows, Jughead finally relieves himself of his duties and retires to the couch with a tired sigh. How close had they come? How close had he come? And stupidly, he believed that a retirement party at a bar of all things was a good idea -- no matter the turn out, not matter how carefully conducted, the same result was bound to happen.

Things could’ve be mended, Jughead was sure of it. There were always so many possibilities for FP Jones, and he refused them all. All except for one.

Jughead looks to the fridge, wondering if there’s any leftover bottles in the shelves. He pulls his beanie from his head, stands, and trudges his feet along the carpet. He cleared as many empty bottles as he could from the living room table, and kitchen table, and then made his way over to pull the lever open on the fridge door.

Sure enough, another six pack nestled in the bottom corner, untouched, but surely waiting in anticipation to be drank by the drunk knocked out on the couch. Jughead peers over the window into the living room, ensuring there were no signs of his rise as he cracked them open, one by one, and tipped them upside down to drain down the sink.

While he waited for them to empty, he treated to the bathroom to brush his teeth and change into something with longer sleeves. A colourful reflection caught his attention through the bathroom window; he dropped the toilet seat down and stepped up out of curiosity.

Brilliant arrays of blues, reds and purples illuminated the tiny courtyard between the gathering of trailers. Jughead’s breath caught in his throat for a moment, wondering which Serpent could possibly be the culprit. Then, he chuckled once at the thought. A Southside Serpent unwinding his or her day with a lightshow.

After another minute of watching the lights swirl intricately, Jughead began to lower himself back to the floor before a movement pulled his attention to the door of the trailer. The figure was bent over, dark silhouette hard to make out until they stood and descended their stairs.

Jughead watched Sweet Pea carry two blue bins of recycling down into the pit, green hoodie three sizes too big for his already large frame. He jumped down from the toilet seat, quickly gathering the cans from the sink to toss into his own bin, slipping his feet back into his boots. He tried his best to keep the squeak of the door as quiet as he could as he exited, happy to see that the teen had noticed him, too.

Sweet Pea plopped onto the wooden steps of his own trailer, sliding over far enough to give Jughead enough room to join him.

“Sweets,” he greeted after sorting the empties. “What’s up with the light? You strip on the side, or something?”

“Just listening to music.”

Jughead nodded once, fingers absently folding and unfolding. “You left the Wyrm a little late. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

The step was damp, but Jughead didn’t mind. The chilling air, however, was a few degrees colder than he anticipated. “Open bar means a good time.” The Serpent replied nonchalantly. “I have a data management midterm Monday, and I need to study or I’m gonna totally bomb so I’ll be up for a while anyway. Shouldn’t you be in?” He inquired, leaning closer to bump their arms together.

Sweet Pea watched Jughead’s shoulders slump forward in defeat, raven curls falling over his already saddened eyes. There’s a brief moment where he envisioned reaching out to pull them away from his face, but quickly dismissed it.

“Long night. Tall Boy wouldn’t let the party die, so the party moved back here. Everyone’s gone now, and dad’s passed out, I was just cleaning up the trailer ... ” he trailed off quietly, fidgeting the frayed threads on his sleeve.

Guilty, Sweet Pea turned his head to look down at the teen, thinking about how he had been the first to order a round of shots -- one of which FP shot down whilst staring his son straight in the face. At the time, Sweet Pea hadn’t thought anything of the disappointment that shot across Jughead’s face. Thinking back now, his skin felt warm and stomach pooled nervously. “I’m sorry, Jones.” He breathed, unsure of what else he could really say.

“What? You don’t have to --”

“But I do. I … I called that first round. It completely slipped my mind that he wasn’t supposed to have anything to drink.”

Jughead dismissed it with a wave of his hand, hugging his knees up to his chest with a loud exhale. “It’s not that he’s not allowed. It was more that he said he wasn’t going to … and he did.” He began to felt his lip tremble, burning sensation building behind his closed lids as he let his face fall forward into his arms. He was careful with keeping his words clear and concise. “And I made a mistake, one he won’t let me fix, one he’s hellbent on fixing himself. All while jeopardizing everything, and for what?”

The Serpent gnawed on his inner cheek. “You wanna come in?” He offered, jerking his thumb to the half open door of his own trailer. “It doesn’t smell like booze.” He added.

Jughead didn’t even think twice before he was standing on his feet, following Sweet Pea into his home. It hadn’t been the first time he’d stayed the night, certainly wouldn’t be the last, he was sure.

He was familiar with the tweed couch, and itchy blanket, but had grown fond of the scent that lingered on the pillow Sweet Pea pulled from his own bed. But tonight he noticed that the area had been rearranged; he examined the furniture, new positions of the couch gave him a full view into the bedroom on the other side. He noticed that the lights were coming from a disco looking ball in the corner, and the gentle melody of something from Sweet Pea’s playlist came from the speaker of his phone it the other room.

“You know, if this keeps happening,” Sweet Pea gestured to outside and across the courtyard where Jughead’s own trailer sat, “My couch is always free -- or my bed, if you’re here for more than a night in row.”

Jughead couldn’t help but smile. It was a thoughtful gesture, he decided, knowing that Sweet Pea was willing to offer up his own comfortability for him. From the moment he had met the Serpent, he had been shown a great deal of kindness. Or at least what he considered to be kindness, but he was sure that underneath all of the barriers and guards Sweet Pea had thrown up, there was a genuinely good hearted kid inside.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jughead mused with a smile, tucking his feet under his legs.

Sweet Pea busied himself with tidying up the rest of the space -- not that Jughead cared if it were messy. Sweet Pea might have been the neatest teenage boy he knew. After a while, lights began to be flicked off, and Jughead nervously took his bottom lip between his teeth.

The Serpent noticed Jughead’s sudden change, and left the light on over the stove. He grabbed two cans of Cola from his mini fridge and wandered back over into the living room with a grin that stretched ear to ear. “Thirsty?”

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he took the can, wrapping both hands around its cold aluminum. “You don’t have to stay up with me.”

Sweet Pea shook his head, tugging half of the blanket over his thighs. “I know what dads can be like, and I know what alcoholics are like. Neither are easy to deal with.” He shrugged, leaning his frame against Jughead. “I just don’t want you to have to feel like you’ve gotta deal with that shit alone anymore.”

Jughead finally lifted his eyes to meet Sweet Pea’s, a look of wonderment taking over his features. There was something about his hooded lids and dark lips that felt so dangerously inviting, Jughead had to force himself to swallow back the lustful thoughts of surging forward to capture them with his own.

Oh, how he wondered what they’d taste like.

Sweets, not oblivious to Jughead’s hesitation, placed a comforting hand over his knee and squeezed tightly in reassurance, “A Serpent never stands alone. I’ll take care of you. You took care of us.”

A moment of silence hung between them. Uncertain of what he should say, Jughead placed his Cola on the coffee table and turned to face Sweet Pea. Then, he threw his arms over the Serpent's shoulders and pulled him close, breathing in the leftover cologne from the retirement party. And there was no moment of hesitation when Sweet Pea’s arms returned the gesture, winding tightly around his waist to hold him close, tightly enough as though he were holding him together.

And in that long singular second, the bond that had been formed between the two teens solidified; there were now feelings of mutual respect, a foundation of trust, and perhaps even a ground of understanding.

[sherlollyandspoilers]

no title

Alright loves, here is some Reylo thing that I started writing back when TLJ came out - literally three days after opening night. I thought I had this grand idea but ever since then, this stupid little WIP has been sitting as a draft, saved in my fics folder, taunting me. So here. You have it. Its less than 3000 words and barely proof read.

Anyways, enjoy!

She had been going nonstop since she had run into Finn on Jakku. Everywhere she went someone was asking something of her, to push harder in training, to explore the Jedi text, to have an opinion on everything. She used to think that having a family would make everything right, that she would no longer feel the sting of loneliness. But it seemed the more people she talked with the more alone she felt. The more overwhelmed she felt. Luke was gone now and she was supposed to rebuild the Jedi order by herself. It was hard for her to not reach back out to him, to ask for his help, to not feel alone.

It had been months since she last closed her side of the connection, but she could still sense him, feel his presence with her. She had learned to set his emotions aside, his brokenness and anger, so she could concentrate on herself, on building a new base, on helping others embrace their own connection to the force. She was getting stronger every day, training and teaching. They had managed to fix Luke’s lightsaber – her lightsaber – and find more Kyber Crystals. The First Order was suffering major losses and she could feel his unsteadiness growing every day.

When it was quiet on base and those around her were calm and secure, she would steal away and reach out to him, never enough for him to sense her, but just enough for her to brush her finger tips lightly across his side of the connection, to feel just a little less alone. The first time she did this, the recoil from his anger was so much it laid her out flat. But his anger was starting to subside, she could feel his fight to hold on to it, the thing that made him Kylo Ren, but his brokenness and the feeling of being lost were over taking him more and more each time.

She tried staying away, but it seemed impossible. Whenever she reached for him the feeling of being overwhelmed subsided but she knew the more time she spent embracing his presence the more she would lose her grip on the reality around her. Tonight. Tonight she would end it. Tonight would be the last time she would reach out…she had to be with him one last time.

She ate dinner as quickly as she could and shrugged off Poe and Finn, claiming exhaustion from training. She hurried across the base and into her small quarters, double locking the door behind her. She looked around her small space before deciding to change out of her dirty clothes. She rearranged the few things she had on her shelves twice trying to stall as long as possible. After having settled her lightsaber on the table three different times, she sighed and crawled onto her bed. She leaned against the stone wall and crossed her legs, hands on her knees. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

His presence filled her senses. She could feel his desperation as he tried to think of what came next. She reached towards him and the feeling of loneliness overwhelmed her, causing a loud sob to rise in her throat. She felt tears running down her face but she kept reaching, and reaching, until her finger tips seemed to brush his soul. The anger she had felt burning like a raging fire months ago was now no more than a flickering candle. She pressed her hand against his side of the connection and felt it give way, allowing her entrance.

“Rey?”

Her eyes flew open and she froze, arm raised and hand stretched out. Somehow she had gotten distracted. Somehow she had managed to lose track of her own emotions. Somehow she had managed to let him in again.

She dropped her arm and moved away from him, trying her best to close what she thought she would never open again.

“Don’t!” The desperation in his voice hit her to the core. She stopped struggling against the connection and looked at him. What she saw was not a powerful leader but a helpless boy, lost and confused.

He opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head and slammed her side of the connection closed.

--

The next day she was on edge. She couldn’t focus during their meeting that morning. She couldn’t concentrate during training that afternoon. And she couldn’t eat that night during dinner.

“Rey?” Finn nudged her arm as he sat down. She nodded at him, not even bothering to fake a smile. “What’s going on with you today?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, jumping to the defensive. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine…I saw you walk out of training early today.” He gave a small look around before hunching down over his food and whispering, “You’ve been distracted lately and we are all getting a little worried.”

“I said I’m fine.” She stood up, leaving her untouched meal where it was, knowing Finn would make sure it wouldn’t go wasted.

--

She had made up her mind the moment she left the mess hall and was headed straight for the command center. She knew her request would seem strange considering they were in the middle of rebuilding and she didn’t want them to think she was abandoning, but she had to go.

“General?”

“Rey.” Leia gave her a small smile.

“Ma’am, I was hoping to take the Falcon off base for a while.” She swung her arms behind her back and clasped her hands. Leia eyed her for a moment, but nodded. “Really?”

“Did you want me to say no?” The General cocked her head to the side.

“No, no, of course not.” Rey waved her hands frantically in front of her body. Leia frowned and looked at her suspiciously. She dropped hands to her sides, tugging on her robe. “I won’t be longer than two weeks…maybe three.”

“I’ll have supplies packed for you and Chewy so you can leave this afternoon.” Leia gave her a nod of dismissal and turned back to her work.

Rey opened her mouth to correct her, tell her that Chewy was staying and she was going alone, but she swallowed down her words and headed back to her quarters to pack.

She grabbed everything she needed and haphazardly stuffed them in a bag. She hooked her newly mended lightsaber to her belt and tucked the second one she was working on into a robe before shoving that into the bag as well. She hurried out of her quarters and down to the Falcon, running into Mera, a promising trainee, who was bringing the supplies she would need. Rey thanked the young girl and assured her that she was completely capable of getting everything on board herself.

--

She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to come here, to this particular place but she had known as soon as she left base that she needed to be here.

She sat the Falcon down and, leaving all her stuff aboard, wondered out into the rain. It wasn’t hard to picture how big the temple had been, how much beauty and strength it had held, all of it now piles of stone and dirt.

She worked her way through the grown up landscape, doing her best not to tear her robes too badly. She stopped mere inches away from a crumbling wall and placed her hand on it. She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. This place carried so much pain and anger, but also of hope and love. She sighed and opened her eyes, resting her forehead gently on the stone wall; she would never know the truth about what happened here now.

--

She was soaked to the bone when she got back to the ship. She stripped down and laid everything out to dry and pulled on dry clothes, wrapping herself in her largest robe. She settled down at the table in the main hold and pulled out the lightsaber she was working on, the functioning one tucked next to her leg.

Working on anything, a lightsaber or ship even, helped her sort out her thoughts. She was mad. Mad at herself for going to him, for letting him in, and for letting him affect her so much. She was strong, stronger than some tiny insignificant feelings for a boy who no longer existed, who she didn’t even know – why was she letting him win?

“Gah!” she shouted as she tossed the tools and saber onto the table.

“You found another crystal?” His voice was unusually soft. She unconsciously gripped her working saber with her right hand. “I see you fixed that one.”

“Yes,” she said shortly but relaxed her grip. She brought her face up, finally meeting his gaze. He looked…more put together than he had the day before, as if he had been prepared for a connection…it infuriated her. “What do you want, Ben?”

“Just to talk.” He shrugged but kept his gaze on her.

“To talk? About what?” She turned on the bench so she was facing him.

His gaze finally wavered and he stood, turning his back on her. Rey stayed quiet waiting for him to speak.

“Why did you leave?” he finally asked, his voice still low.

“Why did you try to shoot me out of the sky?!” she spat at him, unable to believe that he would ask such a question. He turned on his heal, anger flashing in his eyes. “If you care so much, why did you try to kill me?”

Kylo’s jaw tightened and he spun around, his ridiculous cape fluttering behind him. Then he was gone.

--

She had fallen asleep in the hold that night, waking stiff and tired the next morning. She grabbed some of the food out of her supplies and took one of the Jedi texts with her. She opened the boarding ramp and sat down, watching the sun rise as she ate. She stayed on the ramp reading, until the sun was high in the sky. She stood up and stretched, taking the text back into the ship and leaving her warm robe inside before venturing out into the hot sun.

She ignited her lightsaber and dragged it slowly through the over grown brush, trying to create a path for herself. The process was long and annoying but she was going to be here awhile, longer than what she had told the General, and she wanted a clean, wide path to the temple.

It was several hours later by the time she had made it to the temple. She was hot and sweaty and in desperate need of food. She patted the crumbling wall, as if telling it she would be back later, and scurried back to the Falcon.

She took her lunch to the cockpit and sent a message back to base. She really had been planning on only being gone for three weeks, but Leia had assumed Chewy was going and sent her enough supplies to last her alone over two months. She told them she was safe and that she would check in with them periodically. She also asked them to tell Chewy she was sorry for leaving him behind.

She left the ship again, wondering around the land that surrounded the temple. She found a cool spring and took her shoes off, slipping her feet in.

“Ahh.” She wiggled her toes, enjoying the coolness.

She stripped off her clothes and waded into the water in her undergarments. She stayed where she could touch, besides having grown up on Jakku with a lack of chances to learn how to swim, she didn’t want to be too far from her lightsaber either.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, soaking her hair and scratching her scalp. She ran her fingers through the knots in her hair and enjoyed listening to the sound of the forest around her. This was the first time in months that she really felt at peace.

And then she felt him.

“Of course,” she mumbled to herself as she tried to hurry out of the water, the weight of it making her clumsy.

“What are you doing?” he asked in amusement. She didn’t answer him as she finally stumbled up onto the shore, pulling her tunic on. “Ahh,” realization dawned on his face when he noticed the water streaming off of her, “swimming.”

“Bathing,” she corrected him but instantly wished she hadn’t. Her checks flushed and she held her arms tightly across her damp body.

“Where are you?” He had meant it as an innocent question but realized the implication due to their current circumstances. “Never mind,” he said quickly.

From where Rey stood, he looked like he was sitting on the edge of the bank, his back straight as a rod.

“It’s a spring.” She watched his reaction as she rung the water out of her hair. “And where are you?” He raised an eyebrow as if to ask did she really want to know. “Maybe not then.” She sat down on the bank, letting the sun warm her skin. “You were mad last night,” she said as she stretched out her legs and leaned back on her elbows.

“I’m always mad.” She studied his face for a moment and decided he wasn’t trying to be funny. He was watching her too, trying to decide something for himself. “Why do you keep letting the connection open?” She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, just watching him for a long moment.

“It’s a little less lonely this way, don’t you think?” She saw his jaw tense and then relax again. “No?”

“There’s a way we wouldn’t have to be lonely at all.” His hand twitched on his knee as he talked.

She sighed sadly, realizing he still thought he had made the right choice.

“Ben, please don’t.”

“If you were to join me – ”

“I said don’t!” she snapped. They stared at each other, the silence between the two drowning out the noise around her. She swallowed hard and stood up, grabbing her light saber. “Why do you want me to join you?” She ignited the saber and started practicing. “Why me?” She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she moved. He was watching her intently and she was sure that she knew his answer already.

“You understand.”

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“What do I understand?” she asked after a moment.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his attention was pulled to something in front of him and then the connection was gone.

--

Rey had planned on going back to the temple after her swim but wanted her mind calm and unobstructed, which after her conversation with Ben, it was not. She couldn’t stop her thoughts as they swirled in her head and found that she had gotten good and lost in the woods when she finally stopped to pay attention to where she was. She had been wondering for a few hours when she finally stopped and it took her another couple to get back to spring. By the time she had gotten back she was hot and sweaty again and decided to take another quick dip in the cool water.

By the time she had gotten back to the Falcon, she had wasted most of the day and her stomach was grumbling. She grabbed some food and a robe, and crawled up on top of the ship to watch as the night sky filled.

--

The next two days it down poured and Rey stayed inside, studying the texts and working on her saber. She had expected Ben to show up, but she didn’t hear from him until she was snuggling down in her bunk the second night.

“GAH!” She scooched back into the wall and hit her head. She had just been drifting off to sleep when she had felt him. She had opened her eyes and there he was, mere inches from her face, lying on his stomach, startling the living daily lights out of her.

“Problems sleeping?” he asked as he rolled to his back, the proximity not seeming to bother him.

“No,” she said tensely as she rubbed the back of her head.  

“I don’t sleep.” He stared straight up and she began to wonder what he was staring at. They were quiet for a while, just lying there breathing.

Intimate was the word Rey would have used for it. Realistically, she knew he was half a galaxy away, but yet here he was, lying next to her in her bunk.

“Do you dream?” he asked suddenly. She blinked at him, trying to focus on the words he just said.

“Sometimes,” she admitted. He rolled to his side, propping his head up on his arm.  

“About?” He looked at her and she was struck at how vulnerable he seemed.

“You.” The word was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

He simply stared at her, his expression unchanging, and she wanted to scream. But she didn’t. She couldn’t move, couldn’t let him know she hadn’t meant to say it.

He slowly reached his hand up to her face and brushed his fingertips across her cheek bone, watching his hand as he did so.

“Ben,” she whispered. His eyes snapped back to hers and then she was alone, the spot on her cheek still tingling.

[rightfulcaptxin]

Five times + restaurant (from OMC Li)

Send me ‘five times + a word’ and I’ll write a drabble about our muses based on it. | Not Accepting | @anhonourablecaptain

He saw the man’s reflection in the glass doors before he registered the presence at his back. Keys still in hand, Edward turned as his new companion politely cleared his throat, and took a moment to study the handsome face, and the head of beautiful dark curls. 

“Hi, sorry…” At once he heard the familiar musical lilt of Ireland in the man’s voice, something which brought a quick and easy smile to his face. “Are you the owner of this establishment?” He glanced up at the sign above the doors, and smiled. Anchorage. 

“I am, yes.” Ed held out a hand to him. “Edward Teach.” He waited for some glimmer of recognition to cross the other man’s face, but none came. 

“Nice to meet you, Mr Teach.” He took the offered hand, and smiled. “I’m Liam Jones. I just have a few questions for you, if that’s okay? There was an incident across the street a couple of days ago, and there’s a chance that you or another member of staff might have noticed something that could help us. If not…” Another glance up, at the cameras positioned on the outside of the building. “Perhaps you would allow me to inspect your security footage?” He fished into a pocket, drawing out an ID badge. “I won’t take up too much of your time.”

Ed inspected the badge, and gave a nod. “Sure, I’ll do what I can to help.” He lingered a moment longer, watching him curiously. “Why don’t you come on in? I was just about to open up ready for the lunch crowd, so…”

“Oh, excellent.” Liam smiled warmly, gesturing for him to lead the way. As Ed unlocked the restaurant doors and guided him inside, Liam glanced around at the nautical themed decor. “So, are you a chef, Mr Teach? Or do you manage front of house?”

Ed could only stare at him, before he smiled again. That confirmed it. This man had no idea who he was. 

—

“Thank you for doing this, Ed. I can’t stress how grateful I am.” Liam hovered by the pass, watching his partner move around the kitchen beyond the ‘window’. He already knew better than to venture into the actual kitchen area - at least, not when the restaurant was open and in business. Or, preparing to open. Generally he’d only ever been allowed back there after closing. Once.

“Aye, you’ve said. About four times in the last hour, actually.” Ed muttered, hands busy with preparations. He didn’t look up when he spoke - anyone else might have considered him distracted, not really paying attention to the conversation, but Liam knew better. He’d watched Ed work in his kitchen at home enough times to know he was more than capable of doing about thirty things at once. Probably.

“Sorry, I just… I know it’s last minute, and I hate to disrupt-,”

“Liam.” Ed did turn to him then, fixing him with a look that suggested he needed to stop before their conversation inched closer to an argument. “I said it’s no trouble.” When his words were met with a tense silence, he sighed, and crossed to the other side of the pass. Wordlessly, he leant through the gap and tugged Liam into a quick kiss. “Relax. You’re not disrupting anything.”

“Good.” Liam visibly relaxed, a smile creeping onto his face. He studied Ed’s expression for a moment, and his smile lifted into a grin. “But let me guess - get out of my kitchen?”

“You’re only going to hover and get in my way if you stand there.” Ed waved him off. “Head on back to my office, read a book or something until the place opens. I’ll take care of everything else.” When Liam opened his mouth to speak, he held up a hand. “If the words ‘thank you’ are about to come out of your mouth again, I swear to god…”

“Okay, okay. Understood.” Since Ed was still there, within reach, he leant over to steal another kiss. “If you can whip up a rum cake for Killian, I’ll be your dessert tonight.” He murmured, keeping his voice low - aware that Ed’s kitchen staff could easily be listening in. He ducked his head quickly and hurried off to Ed’s office, leaving his partner standing at the pass, watching him go.

Ed shook his head with a daft grin on his face. Throwing a last-minute dinner party for his boyfriend’s younger brother was definitely going to earn him some favours, it seemed. 

—

Ed had long ago picked up on the handful of small tells Liam had that told him the other man was frustrated. Currently, sat across from him in a fine restaurant, he was exhibiting several of them at once. Ed felt the faintest stab of guilt - for he knew he was responsible for it. 

Liam was quite easy to embarrass in certain situations, and the man hated being embarrassed in public. He hadn’t missed how Liam had sunk lower in his chair, shielding his face with one hand as he picked at his meal with his fork - no doubt hoping the ground would open up and swallow him - as he had argued with the waiter regarding his own plate. 

People had definitely turned to watch as he’d demanded to speak with the chef who, quite clearly, didn’t know how to cook a steak properly at all - and for the price they were charging, he expected a certain quality that he wasn’t receiving. Since the matter had been resolved - though he would definitely be making complaints afterwards - Liam had said nothing more to him, simply eating in silence and avoiding his gaze. Except to decline an offer of dessert, he hadn’t said a word.

Knowing it would boil over eventually, Ed waited until they were leaving the restaurant and heading for the car before he turned to Liam, catching his hand to stop him walking away. “I’m sorry.” Liam still didn’t look at him, and Ed sighed. “You know I can’t turn it off, Li. And honestly, I don’t know what that idiot did to that piece of meat but he certainly didn’t cook it-,”

“This was supposed to be a nice evening, Ed.” Liam cut in, finally meeting his eyes. “We hardly ever get chance to go out to dinner together, and I wanted to enjoy it. Instead, you made a scene, and then everyone was looking at us, and the evening was ruined.” He sighed, wearily. “Can we just go home now?”

“Hey.” Ed lifted his other hand, and cupped Liam’s cheek gently. “I’m sorry, Li. Really. I admit, I could have handled it better…” When Liam scoffed, Ed felt the faintest spark of irritation - but he held it back. He wasn’t going to ruin their date even further if he could help it. “I know I have high standards. Look… how about we swing by the restaurant on the way home, and I’ll grab us some dessert?” He laced his fingers with Liam’s, and gave his hand a squeeze. “The night’s not over yet, love. Let me make it up to you.” Liam said nothing for a moment, and then he sighed again.

“Fine. But you’ve a lot to make up for.” Despite the firm delivery of the words, Ed felt his partner give his hand a squeeze in return.

—

If there was one thing Ed had never imagined he’d do in his kitchen… well, it was definitely this. 

Leaning back against one of the storage cupboards, he dragged fingers through the damp tangles of his hair, a satisfied smile on his face. With his breath still returning to a more natural rhythm, he cast a glance about him at the disarray they’d caused. 

Liam stirred beside him, pushing himself upright to lean against him. Ed’s arm automatically curled around his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin against his own. There was still a delicious flush creeping down Liam’s neck to his chest, and Ed had the sudden urge to chase it with his lips - but given where that was likely to lead, he figured they should at least take five first.

“I’m going to have to clean up in here before we go.” He murmured after a moment, glancing down at where Liam had pillowed his head onto his shoulder. He felt Liam laugh before he heard it. “I think that’s a record for us, y’know.” With his other hand he tipped Liam’s face up towards his. “Didn’t even make it home.”

“Yes, well…” Liam shifted, holding up his own hand, upon which a new adornment glinted in the light. Seeing that ring - plain and simple, the way he knew Liam would like it - only ignited further desire in Ed. “We had good reason.” Ed grinned, leaning in to steal a long, lingering kiss.

“We did indeed. Now, handsome… get yourself presentable, and I’ll start on clean-up. If he can’t see his face in the worktops, Eric will know for definite that something’s happened back here.” He made to stand up, but Liam caught his arm and pulled him back.

“Five more minutes? I’m not sure my legs are working again just yet.” Ed laughed, and settled himself back into position against the cupboard door. 

“Alright. Five more minutes.”

—

Many events had taken place at Anchorage over the years - from wedding receptions to charity dinners, both its main dining room and the smaller private den rented out and reserved time and time again. One thing Edward could safely say had never taken place in his restaurant was a child’s birthday party.

Until today.

His artfully designed nautical interior decor was overshadowed by appropriately colourful and cheap decorations - which he and Liam, with the aid of Killian and David and a few of the restaurant staff, had spent hours putting up the night before - and the smart navy tableclothes had been replaced with flags bearing the skull and crossbones of every typical pirate. 

The tables themselves had been entirely rearranged to better suit a horde of tiny humans - and their long-suffering parents - and the beautifully crafted menus had been completely rewritten at the request of the VIP currently standing on her chair with a sword in her hand and a tricorn on her head. Beside her, bandana tied around his head and fake parrot fixed to his shoulder, her brother was in the process of stacking a pile of presents onto the table in the vague shape of a ship.

Standing at the pass, Ed surveyed the chaos of his sophisticated restaurant, and smiled. When Liam joined him a moment later, he took his husband’s hand in an automatic gesture, gently lacing their fingers together. 

“How long do you think we should wait before we roll out the cake?” Liam asked, leaning comfortably against Ed’s shoulder. “They’re already wired with sugar. If we make them wait too long they might stage a mutiny and turn on us.” Ed grinned.

“Wouldn’t that be a sight?” He shifted, glancing through the window to the kitchen, where the cake awaited. “I can bring it out now, if you like?” Liam turned too, smiling as he set eyes upon the cake. He had already seen in that morning after Ed had finished the final touches, but he was still amazed at his husband’s creativity and skill. He’d never seen anyone make a cake to look like a tall ship before, especially one so realistic. It even had edible sails that Ed had hand-dyed with colouring and a brush. 

“Have I told you how incredible you are, darling?” He murmured, leaning in to steal a quick kiss from him. “She’s going to love it. Her very own pirate ship.” He felt his heart swell with love for this man who continued, every day, to surprise him. “You’ve really done a good job with this, y’know. I know there’s a part of you that’s internally screaming over what we’ve done to your restaurant.”

“Everything can be returned to how it should be.” Ed waved him off. “And besides… it’s all worth it. You know I’d do anything for our family, Li.” He kissed him again, lingering a little this time. “Now go distract our little captain whilst I light the candles and sail this thing out.”

[bourbonboredom]

Shelter From The Storm

I’ve been dragged into the Clyde Logan fan club. Writing fan fiction seemed to be the natural course to take. So here’s a ClydexReader fic, indulging some classic tropes.

Word Count: 5,478 (oops)

Warnings: Cursing, Drinking, NSFW

Slow Saturdays were few and far between at Duck Tape. The bar, usually packed with patrons drinking away their weekday worries, was unusually empty on account of a freak thunderstorm. The rain was coming down in sheets, and the lightning was so bright it could light up the entire night sky. Rightfully, people were staying out of dodge that evening, preferring to drink in the safety of their own homes. Clyde didn’t mind much though, an empty bar was welcome every once in a while as it gave him time to himself.

The music from the jukebox competed with the sound of rain hitting the roof and thunder rumbling low. He sat at the bar with a book. He kept one under the counter just for nights like this. He was so engrossed in his chapter that he almost missed the sound of the front door opening. The door slammed shut with a bang, causing his new patron to let out a squeak.

“Sorry about that, the wind caught it,” a voice came.

He looked up to see a girl standing in his doorway, sopping wet. Her jacket was completely soaked, with her jeans not too far behind. She was struggling to remove the material of the former from her body, dripping all over the floor. She managed to remove her jacket and hung it up by the door. She walked up to the bar, trying to look like she didn't just run through the storm of the decade to get indoors. Clyde put his book down and circled behind the bar.

“What can I get the only person brave enough to be out in this weather?” he asked.

“It’s not intentional, I’m just passing through and didn’t realize the storm would be this bad. You were the first place off the exit that looked open,” she smiled, looking a little embarrassed.

“Well you can wait it out in here, maybe it’ll go faster with a drink?” he inwardly kicked himself, he didn’t want this girl to think he was trying to get rid of her.

“Only if you make one for yourself,” she pointed at him, “Something that’ll warm me up, please. Bartender’s choice,”

“Somethin’ warm, coming right up,” he grabbed an old go-to and got to work.

Fireball Whiskey could warm just about anyone up. He took that and combined it with vanilla vodka and apple juice in a shaker. He was acutely aware of how his patron was watching him work one-handed. If she wanted to ask him about his prosthetic, she seemed to think better of it. He poured the cocktail in to two glasses, pushing one her way. She took a sip and her face instantly lit up.

“This is great! What is this?”

“An Apple Pie, they’re popular ‘round here in the fall,” he took a sip of his own, relishing the pleasantly warm sensation it left in his throat.

“It’s definitely warming me up, so thank you,” she reached in to her pocket to pay him but he put his hand up to stop her.

“It’s on the bar tonight,”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,”

“Well could you tell me your name so I can properly thank you?”

“It’s Clyde. And you?”

She told him her name, raising her glass for a cheers. They clinked and drank.

“If anything, you’re doing me a favor being here. You’ve been my only customer all night,” he confided.

“Well that sounds lonely,”

“It’s not too bad. I got the jukebox goin’,”

“I noticed,” she smiled and stopped to listen to the music for a moment. “Shelter From The Storm is a little on the nose don’t you think?”

“You like Bob Dylan?” he asked.

“Does anyone not like Bob Dylan?” she took another sip of her drink. “What else you got on that jukebox?”

———————————

Another round of Apples Pies and an hour later, the two of them had managed to create a satisfactory playlist that would last the evening. The storm still raged outside, but neither of them seemed to mind. Her clothes were almost dry now, and was feeling plenty warmed-up by the drinks.

“Don’t let me have another one of these, I’m gonna need to be able to drive when the storm lets up,” she tried to be serious, but her cheeks were pink and she kept fighting a smile. It was adorable, not the Clyde would say it out loud.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, still working on his own glass. He secretly hoped the storm would last a little longer so she could stick around, he was enjoying her company.

“You’ve got nice eyes, you know that?” she said suddenly. A blush crept down his neck, making him thankful that he chose to wear a collared shirt.

“I—um,”

“You don’t take compliments well, huh?” she teased.

“I suppose not. I don’t usually get them unless someone’s trying to sweeten me up so they don’t have to pay their tab,”

“Well you already said this was on you, right?” her eyes shone. “I’m not saying it for the tab then,”

“Well, thank you,” he managed to stutter out. He could feel his whole face heat up. He turned around and acted like he was looking for something, but really he was just hoping to hide the very apparent blush on his face from a very pretty girl complimenting him.

A huge flash of lightning streaked across the sky at that exact moment, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. Blinding light was followed by a pop and the power going down in the bar.

Well, fuck. That’s one way to hide it.

The jukebox cut off in the middle of an Eagles song, and it was completely dark. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted and he saw her looking at him from across the counter.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, just a little startled. You?”

“I’m okay, it looks like that last bolt took out the power though,”

“Yeah, is your bar okay? Do you need to do anything?”

“I got a generator out back, I might be able to get some lights back on,” he remembered. He walked out from behind the bar, coat in hand. “You stay here, I’m gonna try to fix this,”

“Hold on, is it outside?” she grabbed his sleeve as he walked by her.

“Yeah?”

“It’s still storming out. Mixing lightning and generators isn't a good idea, I don’t want your bar catching on fire,” she reasoned. She slowly realized she had been holding on to him, and quickly dropped her hold.

“You’re probably right,” he noted, skin tingling where she had touched him. “I think I have some candles in the back, that should help until I can get the generator going,”

“I’ll help bring them up front,” she said, hopping off her barstool to trail behind him.

He began heading for the back of the bar, using his phone to light the way. He knew Duck Tape like the back of his hand, so walking around in the dark wasn’t much of an issue. His new friend, on the other hand, bumped in to a chair, sending her hurling towards the ground. Clyde managed to catch her before she could hurt herself, holding her by the waist as she regained her balance.

“You alright?” he asked.

“All good, thanks,” she replied, patting his chest to assure him that he could let go. He did, slower than he probably should have.

They retrieved an armful of candles each, heading back to the front of the bar, to rearrange them around the counter. He took his lighter from his pocket, going around and lighting the wicks. The room slowly regained a little of its lost light.

“I have some blankets in my car, I don’t know how long we’re gonna be here but it might help to have the extra warmth,” she appealed.

“I think I have one in my car too,” he noted. “Wanna race to get ‘em?”

“You’re on,” her face curled in to a smile.

The two stood on the covered porch of Duck Tape a few moment later. Coats pulled on, zipped up, and hoods thrown over their heads. Clyde’s coat sleeve was pulled down around his prosthetic to present the machinery from getting wet. Their cars were parked right by the railing, it would have been an easy trip if it wasn’t for the rain was coming down.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” he responded, fishing his keys out of his pocket.

“Go!” she shouted, giving him a light push back as she ran ahead.

“Hey!” he yelled, trying to catch up, loving how she sounded as she laughed.

Wearing a coat was basically pointless, as Clyde was soaked within a few moments it took to reach the trunk of his car. He opened the trunk, grabbing the spare blanket sitting in the back, and closed it with a slam. She had just gotten her trunk open. She had dropped her keys earlier and was slowed down. He came over to help, gathering a few blankets in his arms when she managed to open her car. She held a few of her own, slamming the trunk shut as they raced back inside.

“Fuck! I’m soaked!” she exclaimed, throwing the blankets down on the floor. They had managed to keep them relatively dry but their clothes, on the other hand, were goners.

“Me too, but it’s worth it cuz I won,” he teased, peeling his jacket off.

“Says you!” she scoffed, throwing her own jacket at him. He smiled and hung it up to dry with his own.

“God, wet jeans are literally the most uncomfortable thing on earth. And this is the second time today!” she grumbled. She brought the blankets to behind the bar, walking with wide steps to prevent the denim from rubbing against her skin.

“I hear ya,” he grabbed a clean cloth from the bar to wipe down his arm. It had gotten wet outside, and it needed to be dried off before any damage could come to it.

“Hey Clyde,” she called. “Would you mind if I—um. Would you mind if I hung my clothes by the window? I think they’ll dry faster if they’re not on me,”

The blush was back. His body felt so hot, he figured maybe his clothes would dry up then and there.

“Uhm—”

“Oh god, forget I even asked,” her voice was filled with embarrassment. “It’s the alcohol I think, sorry, I’m being stupid. I barely even know you,”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he started, trying to find the words he was looking for. “It’s alright if you wanna, um— dry your clothes,”

Clyde prided himself on being a Southern Gentleman. His mama raised him to respect women, and he knew better than to do anything to make a lady uncomfortable. He turned around as she pulled her shirt over her head. He could see the faintest outline of her figure in the reflection of the window, but instead turned his interest to the wood grain of the floor. He felt a hand on his shoulder a few minutes later. He turned around to see her standing behind him. She had wrapped herself in a blanket, holding her wet clothes in her arms.

“Do you wanna dry yours out too? I can get you a blanket,” she asked, not able to fully meet his gaze.

“I—uh—I think it would be the quicker option,” he mumbled.

“Would it be less weird if we both took a shot before? For nerves?” after a moment, he nodded, not being able to actually say anything out loud.

She laid out her clothes by the door, and went back to the bar and grabbed a random bottle from the shelf. She unscrewed the top and took a deep swig, hissing as she brought the bottle away from her lips.

“Christ, that’s a strong one, what did I even grab?”

“It looks like you grabbed my best Kentucky Bourbon, darlin’” he said as he took the bottle from her. It was one of the top-shelf liquors he offered.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I can put it back and grab something else,”

“No, it’s fine. It don’t get much use. People usually go for the lower-quality whiskeys around here,” he took a swig of his own, savoring the way the liquid burned in his chest.

“Besides,” he said as he handed the bottle back to her. “It’s best to drink the good stuff when you got good company,”

She smiled at that, turning back to grab him a blanket. He stripped away his shirt, followed by his jeans and, well, everything else. He felt a little self-conscious but fuck it, this storm and this alcohol was making him a lot braver than he usually felt. He thought he felt a pair of eyes staring at him as he lost his boxers.

“Heads up!” she called.

Something soft hit his back. He looked down to see a blanket at his feet. He laid his clothes to dry next to hers and bundled himself in the blanket. Upon looking over to the bar, he found she was nowhere to be seen. Clyde called out her name, wondering where she could have gone to.

“Down here!” she called back. Her hand waved, peaking just over the counter. He leaned over to see the set-up she had created in the middle of the bar area.

The candles were set on the counter, creating a soft glow for the area. The blankets had been spread out across the floor, with her resting her back on the wall. She smiled up at him, holding the bottle of whiskey.

“Wanna join me?” she lifted the bottle in his direction.

He circled around to the entrance and sat down next to her, making sure his blanket was covering all of his body. He took the bottle from her hand and took a generous swig.

“So, you do this often?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Come to people’s bars, strip out all’ve your clothes, and drink their best booze?”

“Mmmmm, not usually, I’d say this is a first” she laughed, taking the bottle back. “Do you usually let strange women come in to your bar, strip and drink your booze?”

“Can’t say I do,”

“Well, here’s to firsts,” she rose the bottle to her lips and drank.

“To firsts,” he took it as it was passed to him. He was starting to feel the consequences of swigging whiskey from the bottle. His body felt pleasantly warm,and he was on his way to getting tipsy. She seemed to be right there with him.

“So,” she said, looking at him.

“So,” he parroted.

“Since our jukebox playlist was so rudely interrupted, how about I try to guess something about you and if I get it wrong, I have to drink. But if I’m right, you drink. Same goes for you,”

“Alright. Shoot,”

She studied him for a bit, looking over his long, wild hair, his large frame, his prosthetic hand. It made him feel a little shy to be watched so closely.

“You grew up here,” she concluded. He took a drink.

“That’s just cheatin’,” he said, passing her the bottle. “You’re not from around here,”

“Did the accent give it away?” she teased, taking her drink. “Okay, let’s make it a little harder. I’m gonna guess that your favorite cocktail is a whiskey sour,”

“Sorry darlin’,” he said, passing the bottle her way. “It’s a negroni,”

“Very traditional choice. What do you think mine is?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say you’re a Paloma kinda lady,”

“A what? I don’t even know what that is,” she laughed, passing the bottle his way.

“It’s tequila, grapefruit, lime, sugar, and club soda,”

“That actually sounds pretty good,”

“I’ll make you one sometime. Preferably when the lights are on,”

“I’ll have to take you up on that offer. My favorite is a good mojito,”

“I guarantee your bartenders hate you, those take some effort,”

“I know! I don’t ask for them often,” she hid her face in her hands, “I knew one day one of you would finally accost me for it,”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, we’re nicer to customers we like,” the words came out of his mouth before he could think. This whiskey was really not his friend tonight.

“Well, thank you, I’ll try to keep using it to my advantage,” she said, cupping her hand under his chin. It was a playful move, but the touch all but burned his skin.

Sure, it was dark. And they were lit by candlelight. But this mystery girl was radiant. Her smile, her laugh, the way she moved, it was as if she could light up a room just by entering it. Clyde had put romance on the back-burner for quite some time, but he was thinking he could indulge for one night.

“I got one. I think you were peekin’ when you threw me that blanket,” he held his gaze steady on her, eyebrow raised. She stared back with a neutral expression, as if challenging him to change his opinion. She finally took the bottle from his hand.

“Only for a second,” she took her drink, keeping eye contact. “Can you blame me?”

“I suppose you could blame the bourbon,”

“Let’s blame it on that. We’re you checking me out too?”

“No ma’am,”

“Really?” she challenged.

“Cross my heart,”

“Such a gentleman,” she laughed, taking another drink. She set the bottle down on the floor and turned her body towards her new companion. “I think you wanted to though,”

“Doesn’t matter if I wanted to, it wouldn’t be respectful,”

“I wasn’t very respectful, I think it’d be okay to even the field,” her eyes seemed to darken as she spoke.

“I suppose it would,” Clyde could barely hear his own voice over his heart beating in his ears. She shuffled in front of him, holding her blanket closed at her chest.

Slowly, she let the heavy fabric fall from her shoulders. She brought her hands down to her sides, taking the rest of the fabric with them. Her body came fully in to view, every curve, every freckle was on display for him.

He reached out with his hand, unsure of whether he was allowed to touch. He came in contact with the blanket and grabbed hold, tugging to pull her closer. She obliged, bringing her knees to either side of his hips. Neither of them were really breathing, as if taking that breath would make the moment disappear. She dropped her hold on the blanket, letting it fall away. She looked resplendent, skin almost glowing in the candlelight.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered.

She cupped his face in her hands and seated herself in his lap. She brought her face to his, slowly, as if she was unsure whether or not to really do this. He took the blanket that was draped around her body and dragged it to the floor, leaving her no room to hide. Her face was hovering a few inches away from his when he brought his hand to her cheek. He ghosted the tips of his finger along her jaw, then her neck, before finally settling on her shoulder. He pulled her to him, closing the gap.

Her lips landed on his softly, and he returned the kiss with a little more fervor. Their tongues slowly circled each other and dipped into the other’s mouth as they grew needier. His hand trailed up and down her body, touching as much of her as he could with one hand. His left hand, his prosthetic hand, remained at his side. He wasn’t sure if she would like being touched with it. As if she could hear his thoughts, she dropped one hand from his face and grabbed his forearm, resting the metal of his fingers on her hip.

“It’s okay,” she said in between kisses.

With this new permission, he explored her body. He brought his hands up to her breasts, tweaking her nipples in a way that made her moan into his mouth. He was growing harder, his cock straining against the blanket wrapped around him. He could feel a damp spot growing where she was straddling him. She began working the blanket off his shoulders, dragging it down to his waist, where it was being held closed by her body. She broke the kiss with a soft bite to his lower lip, and began working her way down his body. Clyde let out a groan as she started kissing his neck. She planted slow pecks down his collarbone, his chest and finally his torso. She made sure to kiss every freckle she encountered. Her hands held the heavy fabric as she looked up at him.

“Can I?” she asked

“Go on, darlin’,” he encouraged.

She smiled up at him before turning her gaze to his covered body. She had worked her way further down his body, resting by hiss ankles, giving her plenty of room to unfurl the blanket covering him. She watched with hungry eyes as her hands drew the fabric from his form. His cock bobbed as it was released. He was fully hard, with precum beading at the tip. She sat back in her straddled position at his hips, her mound rubbing against his cock. She put her hands around his neck and pulled him into another heated kiss.

“Do you have a condom somewhere?” she asked as she broke away.

“I should in my wallet over there,” he motioned to his coat by the door.

“Not the best place to be storing condoms,” she teased.

She got up, fully naked, and walked out from behind the bar to get his wallet. She came back a few moments later, handing it to him and sitting back down. Clyde found the condom he had stowed away, and threw the rest of the wallet to the side. He held it up so she could see before pulling her closer to him by her hips. He ripped open the packet, rolling the latex on. She positioned her hips over him, hands resting on his broad shoulders.

“Are y’sure about this?” he asked.

“Clyde, c’mon, I need you inside me,” she moaned, lowering herself on to him. She got as far as the tip before he caught her in his hands. She looked surprised that he had stopped her, letting out a desperate whimper. He looked at her, eyes clouded with lust.

“Say that again,” he groaned. He was aching, wanting nothing more than to bury himself inside her. He could feel her cunt dripping on him.

“Please, Clyde, I need you inside of me,” she whined in frustration, trying to force her hips down further.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he growled, pushing her hips down on him. He moaned as he bottomed out. Her hands were gripping his shoulders, head lulling back and eyes closed with her lips parted in a perfect o.

“You doin’ okay?” he breathed out, pressing kisses to her exposed neck.

“You feel perfect,” she answered after a moment. She brought her head forward and kissed him deeply.

Their moans were smothered by the kiss as she rode him, their bodies trying to find a rhythm at a frantic pace. He couldn't get enough of her. His hands tangled in her hair one moment, and dropped to her breasts at the next. One hand finally rested at her clit, rubbing it in tight circles as she bounced on his cock.

“Oh fuck keep doing that,” she mewled. She fisted a hand in his dampened hair.

She tried to keep her rhythm as he stroked her but the closer she came to orgasming, the harder it was to keep up. He took over, thrusting in to her as hard as she would let him. Her head dropped to his shoulder, nipping at his neck as he fucked her. Her cunt began to flutter around his cock, squeezing him impossibly tight.

“I’m—I’m gonna,” she managed to stutter out, eyes squeezing shut.

“Cum for me darlin,” he growled. He wanted nothing more than to feel her cum on his cock, to hear her moan his name as he brought her to climax. His fingers rubbed her clit faster and harder, cock drawing almost all the way out before slamming in to her again.

She came with a whimper, biting her bottom lip as his name left her lips. One hand fisted in his hair as the other’s fingernails bit into his bicep. Her walls clenched around him, drawing him closer to his own release. The coil in his core drawing tighter and tighter as she came down from her high and began to ride him again. She looked him in the eye as he was on the edge of climax, coaxing him as he moaned her name and went tumbling over. He emptied himself inside the condom, hips stuttering before ceasing to thrust.

His curls fell in his face as he tried to catch his breath. They were moved off his face with care by her fingers, tucking the strands behind his ear. He brought his head back up to get a good look at her. She looked as tired as him, but had a grin across her face. She kissed his nose, and then his lips.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Better than okay,” he replied, giving a quick kiss back. He tapped her hips to signal he needed to get up. She sat to the side, bringing her blanket up over her shoulders. He threw the condom away before sitting back down next to her.

“Do you usually fuck strange women at your bar?” she offered him half of the blanket. He draped it over his shoulders, letting her lean into him.

“I can’t say I do,” he replied. “I think we can blame that on the bourbon. And the storm. And maybe even the woman,”

“Oh, this is on me?” she laughed.

“I’d say it’s on both of us,”

“Hmm, that’s fair,” she ran her fingers through his hair, absentmindedly massaging his scalp. It was a change from her tugging at his locks just moments ago, but it felt just as nice.

“You tired me out,” he said, feeling his eyelids begin to grow heavy.

“Good, it’s not just me then,” she yawned. “ Is it okay to sleep here tonight? It doesn’t look like the storm let up,”

“Fine by me,”

They worked together to pile the blankets on the floor to make a thin mattress, with the biggest blanket on top to cover them. She went around the bar blowing out the candles as he put away the bourbon. They got under the covers and began to drift off soon after.

She drifted off before he did, giving him time to look at the strange woman sleeping next to him on the floor of his bar. This wasn’t like him, this whole situation wasn’t like him, but he was glad it happened. Maybe if the storm let up enough by morning he’d take her out for coffee. Anything to spend a little more time with her. He fell asleep to the sound of rain pattering against the roof.

———————————

Clyde awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming in to his eyes. He was groggy, with a baby hangover from all the bourbon. He reached out next to him to discover her side was empty. He sat up and looked around. She wasn’t anywhere to be found. He gathered the blanket around him as he stood. The storm had ended, and her clothes were gone from the window, along with her jacket by the door. He noticed his own clothes had dried out in the morning sun. He pulled his pants on and started walking to the back, thinking she might have wandered off somewhere.

A piece of paper caught his eye on the counter as he walked by. He stopped and picked it up, noticing it was a note from her.

Thanks for last night, I won’t be forgetting it any time soon! I.O.U. one bottle of top-shelf bourbon!

She signed her name with an X next to it. A kiss.

His chest felt a little heavy at the thought of her leaving without saying goodbye. In the back of his mind he figured it would be a one night stand, but he truly enjoyed her companionship. He sighed as he put the rest of his clothes on and circled back around the bar to pick up the blankets and go on with his day. She had left hers, so she would have to come back at some point.

Right?

———————————

A week passed without hearing any word from her. Clyde kind of figured he’d never see her again. Despite this, his head perked up every time he heard the door to Duck Tape open.

In that week he fixed up any electrical problems, and got his bar back in order after the storm of the decade. He’d smile to himself every time someone played Bob Dylan on the jukebox, his brother even caught him humming along a few times. Over time, that night felt more like a dream than a memory.

Another week passed by and he’d fully given up at that point. No way was anyone going to wait that long just to pick up a few blankets. No way was anyone going to wait that long to see him again. He knew it was too good to be true, that any connection he felt with her was just the alcohol talking. He’d get over it eventually, he thought as he pulled in to the parking lot of Duck Tape for the opening shift.

It didn’t take him long to realize there was another car in the lot. A familiar-looking car. He pulled in to his usual spot, making eye contact with the strange woman sitting on his porch. Her eyes seemed to light up when she saw him, and she waved as he opened his car door.

“Hey,” she called.

“Hey,” he closed his car door and walked over to her apprehensively.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner, I had some family stuff to deal with,”

“It’s fine,” he said, trying to downplay every feeling of doubt he’d had in the last two weeks.

“I got you a replacement bottle for that bourbon,” she brought the bottle out from behind her back, holding it out for him.

“You didn’t have to,” he knew how expensive that particular brand was.

“I mean, it’s the least I can do. You saved me from that storm, you drank with me, you let me sleep there. And, you know, other stuff. Think of it as a ‘thank you’ gift,”

“Well, thank you. I was gonna open up the bar, you wanna come in? I can make you that Paloma while I set up for the night,”

“Not right now,” She replied quickly.

His chest fell again. He really needed to stop getting his hopes up.

“Well, I’ll see you around I guess,” He put the bottle down on the porch and began unlocking the front door, turning his body away from her before she could see his disappointment.

“Clyde wait,” she put her arm on his shoulder. He took a breath before he had the courage to turn around to face her. When he did, she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking down at her feet, with a noticeably pink tinge to her ears.

“I—I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant—I was just gonna ask,” she took a deep breath of her own before looking up at him. “Would you like to go get some coffee? With me?”

He felt a little stunned. He stood there as she kept talking to fill the awkward silence.

“I mean, I really enjoyed out time together that night and I wanna get to know you better. But if now’s not a good time that cool, we can do it later. Or not at all. I think I'm just embarrassing myself, I’m gonna leave now—“ she started inching away, looking flustered.

“I’d like that a lot,” Clyde finally blurted out. He caught her hand before she could go any further. “The coffee I mean. And now is good,”

She looked down at his hand holding hers. She laced her fingers with his.

“There’s a diner down the street I think,” she smiled, “Can’t go wrong with diner coffee,”

“I think you’re right darlin’,” he squeezed her hand.

“And we’ve got no bourbon to blame this time, only ourselves,” she led him off the porch towards her car.

“I don’t think thats a bad thing,” he smiled, realizing he’d follow this strange girl anywhere just to be in her glow.