#twirling my hair at her. does she want to come get wine drunk with me

[sisterdanieldyke]

shout out to lesbians who have the same reaction to sister daniel as phil does

[astridthevalkyrie]

summer rain: chapter 3

Your days in the Training Corp aren’t too out of the ordinary. You make friends, you train hard, and you eat dinner every day.

Oh, and you’re also hellbent on getting revenge against Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

Chapter 2, Chapter 4

You don’t keep your promise to yourself. Very unwillingly, you let Lieutenant Levi catch out after hours again, a few months later, in very different circumstances.

The day goes pretty well before the incident, actually. Nothing extraordinary or painful happens, and you even get Grumman to tell you in that gruff voice of his that you have good form. A good day deserves a good night, a nice farewell. It’s the end of the week, and since tomorrow is everyone’s day off anyways, you decide you want to have a little fun.

The usual suspects want no part in it. Millie doesn’t support sneaking out of the base, Ricky is too busy studying, and Stephen cannot stay awake past dinnertime and is always out like a light. Traitors, the lot of them. There’s absolutely no fun in sneaking out alone, so you start asking around. Surely there must be someone who feels as cooped up as you do.

And that’s how you find yourself in a bar with Traute and Nifa.

It’s an odd combination, you know that much. Nifa is bubbly, bright, and speaks very loudly when she gets drunk. Traute, on the other hand, has a glare that turns out to be helpful to ward off any amorous intruders, but when directed at you, it can be scary. She doesn’t drink at all, giving you a hard stare when you ask her if she wants anything. You only have a single glass yourself before getting up to do what you really came here for - dance.

You start off slow, the alcohol leaving your brain just a bit fuzzy after not drinking for such a long time. The musicians playing on the stage at the side sweeten everyone’s ears with a gradual but energetic melody. You grab a random man’s arm, swinging into step with him. He complies with a hearty chuckle, and now you have a dance partner. In turn, he grabs his friend, who grabs theirs.

Claps and cheers fill the air. You feel the heavy steps under you as your arms flail and you spin, right in the center of it all and enjoying every last second of it. Your hair bounces around you, falling into your face. Someone grabs your hand and tugs you into a waltz. Eventually, dancing turns to jumping, but you don’t care, you live for every second of this. The dancing, the music, the crowd, the sinful act of sneaking out and getting so handsy with everyone. The music is only egging you on.

Your hands are in the air, twirling for all you’re worth. The crowd is cheering you on, the melody is reaching its peak, the room is spinning, and you raise a leg up to finish with a grand pirouette and a wide grin.

The song finishes and you stop to a resounding wave of applause, your arms still thrown in the air.

Right in front of you is Lieutenant Levi, and he does not share the crowd’s enthusiasm.

You stay exactly in the position you are, hands frozen as though he’s caught you. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s the absurdity of the situation, or maybe it’s that he somehow went to the same seedy bar you did and caught you dancing and is now listening to your admirers enthusiastically shouting for an encore as the next song starts playing. Whatever the reason is, you start laughing.

He looks funny, with his bored, fed up expression. Why does he always look like that?

Sighing at your disorderly conduct, he beckons you forward with one finger. Feeling particularly pleasant, you follow him out of the crowd, pausing only to bow with a flourish to anyone who looks at you. Apparently, Lieutenant Levi does not appreciate your desire to please the crowd, because he grabs your arm and shoves you out of the bar. You giggle, hands flying up to cover your mouth.

“Who did you come here with?” he asks, and you waggle a finger.

“I’m not telling.”

“It’s your little quartet, isn’t it?”

“I’m not telling,” you repeat, taking a few steps back from him. You have no desire to get enthralled in him once again. The last time replays in your mind enough times as it is.

The lieutenant gives you a hard look. You try your best to match it, but you end up breaking out into giggles again, the giddy feeling too good to leave you so soon. He sighs.

“You’re drunk.”

“Ooh, so clever.” You smirk, completely unbothered. He doesn’t look too mad, and you’re not worried about Traute or Nifa either. They’ll find their way back. And now you have an escort! It’s truly a special night. “I’m not, actually. I’m no lightweight. I just feel good.”

“That won’t last long,” he promises, “you just ruined my plans. Instead of having a drink, I get to babysit you. So rest assured I’m going to make your life hell, (L/N).”

Your voice unwittingly comes out in a whine. “But you already do that.”

He sighs that sigh again, placing a hand on the top of your head to spin you around and push you in the direction of the base. You laugh loudly, finding his exasperation hilarious until he gives your temple a painful flick.

“Ow!”

“Fucking brat.”

“Ooh, you’re infuriating.” The good feeling is still there, but it’s a little more bitter. He just has that natural effect on your emotions. “You make me so mad.”

“Likewise,” he responds dryly.

The lack of engagement in his voice only serves to make you more sour. For a few minutes, you remain quiet, the two of you walking side by side. More than once, his knuckles brush against yours, but you pay no attention to the contact. You’re simmering in quiet annoyance, months of being thrown around, embarrassed and disrespected all coming to a head now. The liquid courage you consumed earlier doesn’t help either.

“Was it ugly?” aren’t exactly the words you wanted to say, but they’re the ones that come out.

“Hm?”

You look at him, an uncharacteristically vulnerable look displayed on your features. “My smile. Was it so ugly that you just couldn’t stand it?”

“What are you talking about?” He’s raising a brow at you, the breeze playing with his collar a bit. You realize this is the first time you’ve seen him out of uniform, in only a simple white buttoned shirt. He looks nice.

“The day we met. The first day of training. That day.” You wave a hand to make him understand. “You didn’t like my smile, so you...did what you did. And then you did it again later. That was mean.” There’s a pout on your face now, as you remember all his past transgressions. “It must have been an ugly smile if it made you act like this.”

“What are you trying to say?” Levi looks irritated. “Spit it out, (L/N).”

So you do.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

He looks at you, really looks at you, and yet he doesn’t halt. He merely scans your questioning face, your downtrodden expression and the downward direction of your lips. You’re not trying to be difficult this time, you’re really not. You just think that you have a right to know just what you did to make him constantly come after you. Maybe once you hear it, your ridiculous attraction to him will stop.

“What makes you think I hate you?” he replies, genuinely, honestly, and your heart clenches. Before you can reply, he goes on, “I wouldn’t be training you if I hated you. Wouldn’t put up with your annoying ass presence all the time.”

Not sure what to do with such a backhanded compliment, you press on. “So what, you like me? I’d hate to see how you treat your enemies.”

“You would hate to see it,” Levi hums in agreement, and leaves it at that. There’s no confirmation as to whether or not he likes you, which you take to mean he merely tolerates you enough. That does nothing for your feelings. Oh Maria, you can’t actually believe you’re entertaining the idea of having feelings for him in the first place. There’s an attraction there, sure, in a if-he-asked-you-to-sleep-with-him-you-would-probably-say-yes kind of way. You can appreciate his features, you can admit that he’s ridiculously attractive (for a midget). But it doesn’t go deeper than that, and you know now that it doesn’t go deeper for him either. You’re a thorn in his side, who he begrudgingly agrees to train out of some sense of duty. That’s fine. Except…

Except your fascination with his eyes doesn’t just stem from you good you think they’d look above you. It’s been the same thing since day one - there’s just something about him you crave. His closeness, his attention. He’s interested you since the beginning, and you just don’t know why. It looks like you won’t ever find out.

“Hey.” Levi flicks your forehead again, ignoring the glare you throw his way. “You’re thinking too loudly. Cut it out.”

You cut it out.

Not even a whole minute later, he asks, “What were you thinking about?”

He just can’t make up his mind, can he? What an adorable little sadist.

For maybe the first time since you arrived here, you think carefully about your words before speaking. “I was thinking about something that happened once back home.” When he doesn’t say anything, only raises a brow, you continue, “Millie and I went out this one time, with this guy I liked but was too shy to tell. It was pretty late, and I was really tired, so we got separated somehow. I ended up in front of this large mansion. Large, large. Like, I grew up there as one of the richest girls on the block and I still thought it was huge -”

“Get to the point,” Levi grumbles, and you smirk at his impatience. You really do think he should hear this one.

“I knocked on the door, and these two women opened it. I told them what happened, and they agreed to let me stay the night. So I ate dinner with them and then -”

The lieutenant just isn’t content with letting you tell your story without interrupting. “You actually went in? That’s so fucking stupid. Not to mention dangerous. Why didn’t you just try to go home?”

“I’m scared of walking alone at night.” You wave your hand dismissively and hurry on before he can chide you further about how unsafe it is to trust strangers. “So anyway, I went to sleep in one of their spare rooms, but in the middle of the night...I heard something. A scratching sound. It freaked me out.”

He scoffs. “I would guess you got murdered after that, but since you’re here, I guess we weren’t so lucky.”

You look at him crossly. “Ha-ha. No, I made it through the night. I asked them about it the next morning -”

“And then they killed you.”

“No. They told me they’d love to tell me, but they couldn’t, because I wasn’t part of their secret society that they had built the mansion for. So I left, but a month later, I ended up getting lost there again.”

“You’re fucking useless.”

“Shut up.” You’re not sure where you get the gall to tell him that. “I stayed the night again, I heard the scratching again, and I asked again. But they said the same thing. So I said, screw it, I really want to know, I’ll join the secret society. They tell me that first I need to tell them how many houses there are in Stohess. It doesn’t have to be exact, but it has to be close.”

Levi’s brows are furrowed in concentration. He shakes his head with a frown, clearly running it over in his head. “I can’t see how you could figure something like that out. It would take you ages to walk through every single street and count all of them. Why would they need to know that anyways?”

You shrug. “Haven’t the faintest clue. But remember I said there was that guy I liked? His father is actually a mathematician, and the man’s a chip off the old block. So I go to him, and he helps me out. Approximates the shit out of it. I thank him with a kiss and then go to the mansion, and give them my final answer.” You lick your lower lip, basking in how intently Levi was listening to your story. “They said I was close enough and that they could finally tell me where the sound was coming from. They lead me to a gold door, and give me a gold key. Actual gold, Lieutenant.”

“Fascinating,” he mutters sarcastically.

“It is,” you agree, humming, “I open the door, but then there’s another door. This time it’s silver.”

There’s deep confusion in those grey eyes. Something is very thrilling about having him hang on to your every word.

“They hand me a silver key, and I open the silver door, and then there’s a bronze door. At this point I’m really irritated, but they give me a bronze key and promise that this is the last door. So I put it in, unlock it, and open the door. And then I finally see it.”

You’ve arrived at the base. Snapping your heels together, you press your fist to your chest and salute. “Thanks for walking me back, Lieutenant. See you tomorrow.”

“What?” His eyes narrow. “Finish the story, (L/N). What was making the sound?”

You gasp in mock surprise, scandalized. “I can’t tell you, you’re not part of the secret society.”

If only you could capture his face in this very moment. It’s as though he goes through all the stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance all in one second. His mouth falls open in surprise, and you burst out laughing, pointing at him gleefully.

“Ooh, I got you so good!”

Levi gives you the dirtiest look you’ve ever seen, which only serves to make you guffaw even louder. You grin broadly - it feels so amazing to one-up him, even if it’s in this brief, stupid exchange. He can take this as your revenge for flustering you in the hallway a few months ago. Just who did this man think he was playing with? You are the product of the bitches and bastards of the fakest place in the world, so yeah, you can tell a story, and you can act your heart out. In fact, what were you doing here in the military? You should’ve joined a traveling theatre group, now that would have put your many talents to good use.

“Your sense of humor is shitty,” the lieutenant informs you flatly. Oh, you beg to disagree. “Laughing at your own jokes doesn’t make them good. So it was all fake, then?”

You do your best to control your giggles. “Y-yeah. I don’t just sleep over at random mansions. And I’m not scared of being alone in the dark.”

“All of it was fake?” he asks again, and this time it’s your turn to be confused.

“Yes?”

He tsks, whether at you or himself you’re not sure, then lets out a tired sigh. Sparing no further pleasantries, he orders you to bed, warns you not to be late tomorrow, and adds that he’s looking forward to the fresh hell he plans to inflict on you. You salute again, just to be extra, then start walking to the female barracks, still laughing to yourself. Hopefully this won’t seem like a hazy dream tomorrow. You got him, you really got him.

Just before you change into your nightgown, a fleeting thought pops into your mind.

Was the reason the lieutenant double-checked that the story was fake because you mentioned that there had been a guy you liked? No, that was ridiculous. He probably just wanted to check that his subordinate that he was investing so much time in wasn’t a complete idiot. But the thought is stuck in your head now, and you fight back a smile, burying your face in your pillow. Maybe you are a little drunk, but you could go back to hating him in the morning.

____________________

It’s astonishing to you, but you’ve actually improved. Gone are the days of your legs aching after running a few measly laps. When Rashad attempts to pin you down, you can flip him over and hold him there. The ODM gear starts to feel more natural, and zipping through the air is slowly becoming muscle memory. Even the swords feel just right in your hands, although it’s weird that you could run out of them and then have nothing to defend yourself with. Oh well, you don’t plan to be in that kind of situation anyways.

You hate to admit it, but Lieutenant Levi’s training is paying off. It’s not something you realize until you learn, with a start, that you are in the top ten. Number six, to be specific. Ricky mocks you endlessly for being one of those people who say they don’t care when they in fact care very much, as though he’s not two ranks below you.

Without telling Millie, you send a letter to your mother, telling her about your achievements.

Mama,

Sorry for taking so long to write. I wasn’t so sure you wanted me to. I still don’t know. But l wanted to tell you that I’m doing well here. I’m number six in the ranks. Isn’t that cool?

Millie’s doing well too, although I’m sure Mrs. Shackel keeps you updated. We have these two boys who follow us around like annoying flies. One’s from a village in Rose, and the other’s actually from an outer city of Wall Maria. Don’t worry, I don’t plan to marry a poor boy. I’ll find someone rich to settle down with eventually.

I hope you’re taking care, and I hope Grandma is too. Her condition hasn’t gotten any worse, has it? If you need me to send something from here, I’ll do my best to see if I can find it.

I wish I was the kind of daughter who could write you a longer letter. Sorry, Mama, but I’m not sure what else to say. Who knows if I’ll see you again?

Lots of love,

(F/N)

____________________

“I” - huff - “need it.”

“No.”

“I” - huff - “will” - huff - “kill you.”

“Tch. You’d try.”

“Just give me the water, please.”

“You still have a lap left.”

“I’ll do it, it’s important to stay hydrated!”

“Do the lap, then you get the water.”

“If you don’t give it to me now, I’ll faint.”

“Then I’ll leave you out here.”

“You wouldn’t - well, you would, but you shouldn’t.”

“Don’t want to. So get to it.”

“God, fine!”

“...”

“Now can I” - huff - “please have it?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

“You are such a -”

“You talk too much.”

“Oh my” - cough - “God. Are you trying to choke me?”

“You wanted the water.”

“To drink, not for you to shove down my throat and waterboard me with!”

“Ungrateful wretch.”

“What are you, a charming prince from a novel?”

“Yes. Now drink up, my bratty duchess, we’ve got more work to do.”

____________________

There’s dirt on your face, your sleeves, and your shoes, and yet you stay still, with a small grin on your face. You’re lying down, facing up, hands pressed up against the ground. To anyone flying above, you’d blend in with the dirt perfectly. Or at least, that’s what you’re counting on.

Somewhere out there, Ricky is on the hunt looking for you.

Your gear lies hidden a few feet away, since you didn’t want anything chunky to ruin your brilliant camouflage. Obviously a good long wash will do wonders for you later, but for now you stay quiet, ignoring the filth on your otherwise pristine self. The forest is quiet, with the light chirps of birds that you’re sure are very cute but would take a shit on you if you stay here too long. You breathe in and out quietly, stomach tense as you wait to see if your plan will work.

The wait isn’t long. You hear him before you see him, faint clicking sounds that his ODM gear is nice enough to alert you with. Pressing down into the ground, you hold your breath and close your eyes halfway, convincing yourself that you’re part of the nature that surrounds you. If you believe it hard enough, maybe this will actually work and Ricky won’t spot you.

After a second that feels like an hour, you hear him fly away and you breathe easy, running a hand through your hair.

Only then you feel something brush up against your finger, something hairy that’s crawling up your hand -

You let out an ungodly shriek, jumping to your feet. The poor bug that crawled onto your hand is flung off as you thrash your arms this way and that, smacking your skin just to get it off, get it off, get it off!

For all your efforts, Ricky hears you scream and immediately zooms back, chortling. He lands down in front of you, placing his finger on your nose as soon as you calm down.

“Found you.”

You sigh. This extreme version of hide-and-seek may have been a bad idea.

____________________

Millie has her head in your lap, a map in her hands as she shakes her head. Apparently there’s something marvelous about the document, since she can’t keep her eyes off it.

“I don’t think I ever realized how large the space is between the walls,” she mutters, “there’s so much distance between Maria and Rose. It didn’t feel that way when we came here.”

“Yeah,” you hum, absentmindedly tracing designs on her cheek, “makes you wonder how different people get the more inward they go.”

Millie’s nose wrinkles in concentration. “Stephen has a slight accent. Have you noticed?”

“Mmhm. He does good work hiding it, though. It’s hard to pick up on it unless he has to roll his r’s.” You try snatching the map from her hands but she holds on tightly, scolding you over trying to give her a papercut. Well that’s hilarious, considering the two of your are covered in scratches and bruises all over, but that’s Millie for you, always striving for the closest thing to perfection she can get.

You lean your head back against the bark of the tree, leaving her to her observations. It’s been a while since the two of you have gotten to hang out together, away from everyone else. It’s really no one’s fault, you’re both busy and it’s not like you haven’t already spent most of your lives together. Millie has her studies to religiously focus on, her rivals to crush, and apparently her maps to drool over. Meanwhile, you have friends to playfully compete with, horrible doodles to draw next to your scribbled notes, and your mind is strangely preoccupied with…

“Look, it’s your best friend,” Millie said noncommittally, nodding her head to the right.

Deja vu hits you like a merchant’s cart. You’re sitting under the same tree, he’s walking in the same direction. When he catches your gaze, you decide to complete the scene and give him a bright smile and a friendly wave.

Levi stares at you for two seconds, and then rolls his eyes and keeps walking. You bite your lip, just slightly amused.

It’s an improvement.

____________________

"(L/N), you’ve got a letter too!” are the words that shake you out of your sleep haze in the morning. You jump up, pushing past the others trying to get their hands on their mail. Reginald, the man who's nice enough to put up with this crap once a week, thrusts an extremely fancy envelope in your hand. Your name is written on the back in your mother’s expert penmanship. You eagerly walk back to your seat, ignoring the glares and eyerolls from some people who obviously weren’t getting their letters in pretty envelopes.

You sit back down at the table, opening the letter with extra care. It’s from your mother, and that makes it precious, so you want to savor it the best you can. Across from you in her normal seat, Millie raises a brow.

“Your mom wrote to you?”

“I wrote to her a few weeks ago. Just wanted to catch up,” you say quietly, not meeting her eyes, “I’m surprised she wrote back.”

Next to Millie, Stephen’s brows furrow. “Why wouldn’t your mother write back to you?”

“No reason,” you answer quickly, “she’s just a busy woman.”

With your friends’ watching your reaction carefully, you unfold the piece of paper, beginning to read.

To my darling daughter,

You say you don’t write much, and yet it gave me a headache just to read that much. You know that I like to be organized, so I’ll answer your unwanted letter point by point.

It’s certainly wonderful that you’re sixth in the ranks. Perhaps that means you’re the sixth least likely to die? Maybe the next time I hear from you, it’ll actually be from your commanding officer telling me how special you were, but how that didn’t stop you from meeting your terrible end. Hopefully there’ll at least be a small pension that comes with it.

Mrs. Shackel and I met for tea last week. She told me you were being personally trained by the best soldier in the Scouts. I have an idea - marry him, someone with such a valuable skill set surely isn’t poor, and is much better suited to your tastes. That way not only will you leave me without a daughter, but you’ll also leave the poor man a widow as well. Would that satisfy your cruelty, dear?

I am taking care. Grandma is taking care. We are doing fine without you. We don’t need anything from you. I don’t think we ever have. Had I known I was raising such a manipulative, heartless girl, I would have prayed to that ridiculous church that you die during childbirth. Unfortunately, Sina did not give me the good instincts to run a knife through you the second you were born.

Please do not write again.

Lots of love,

Your doting mother

“(F/N),” Millie starts immediately, taking in your stricken expression. She must have a good idea of what the letter says. “Forget about it, she’s a -”

You clear your throat loudly, standing up. Stephen looks worried, but he also seems unsure as to what to do. You don’t want him to do anything, hell, you don’t even want Millie to do anything. You want to get out of here. The room is suddenly suffocating. Your eyes are stinging but you are damned if you’re going to break down in here, so you only shake your head, unable to form words. You wave a hand at Millie, hoping she gets the hint not to follow you.

Without looking at anyone, you rush out of the mess hall. Despite your determination to wait until you’re definitely in a secluded area, tears start flowing down your face the second you step out. With an ugly, pained sob escaping you, you break out into a run.

Now that it’s getting a bit chillier, the cold bites into your eyes, making them water even more. You stop running after a few minutes, in the middle of the grounds. With everyone still having breakfast, there’s no one here yet, and you take that as an invitation to drop to your knees and start crying in earnest.

Why did she have to be so cruel?

You’re not a crier, you’re really not. An avid complainer, sure. A whiner at times. Definitely a sore loser. But you don’t particularly get any catharsis out of crying like so many other people do. When it comes to your mother, though...she’s just always known exactly where to strike her punches to turn you into a helpless little girl again. She can make you start blubbering so easily, and you hate that she can control your emotions even from so far away.

So you read the letter over and over again, until you’re mouthing the words on your lips that taste salty from the waterworks coating them. You’re trying to be quiet, but it’s beyond your control. You’re sobbing and wailing, and showing no sign of stopping.

There’s a quiet rustling beside you as someone walks up, and you shut your eyes tightly for a second. “M-Mil, I’m fine, I swear.”

“Are you?” Levi inquires, and you choke on a surprised sob, swallowing the embarrassing sound at the last second. Furiously wiping your eyes, you make to stand, but he crouches down instead.

He’s been in close proximity to you before, but never like this. Right now he’s near enough for you to reach out and touch his cheek if you so desired, but far enough that he’s not overwhelming you, and yet you can see the pores on his cheeks, the individual lashes lining those gorgeous grey eyes. You wipe your cheeks angrily. Great, just great, this incident will set you back several months on your plan. As though he was someone who needed to see you in such a vulnerable state.

The lieutenant outstretches his hand expectantly, and you’re not sure why you give him the letter so easily. You watch as his eyes scan the cruel words.

“I know,” you say before he can speak, “I know it’s not a big deal. But she’s my mother, I just - I just wanted her to - I thought she could at least be a little proud - “

You don’t realize another tear has rolled down your cheek until he brushes his thumb across your face, wiping it off easily. God, he must think you so weak. You wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to stop your private lessons right here and now.

But when you look at him, there’s no condescension on his face. There’s not even pity. You can’t place it. To an outsider he might look angry, but after knowing him for almost a year, you know that’s not it. It’s something strangely...protective. Fierce. You never expected him to look at you like that. You don’t know what to make of it.

“Stop crying,” he orders, not unkindly. It could be taken as a request. “Do you want to keep this letter?”

“I - I don’t know.”

It seems your body is more obedient than you are, because you stop tearing up, and when you wipe your face again, it remains dry.

“That’s it,” Levi murmurs, as his hands hold yours, warming them up. “Personally, I’d rip it to shreds. But that’s up to you.”

What’s going on? He’s being...well, he’s being nice. He’s never nice. He’s not always unpleasant, and he indulges in your silly banter, but he’s never been so...soft, especially not with you. And just why are you so easily warming up to him, going as far as to curl your fingers around his? Is it because his hands are warm against your cold ones, or is it...is it because…

“I want to keep it,” you blurt out, partly to keep yourself from the unwelcome thoughts inside your head.

He nods. and then gently grasps your arms, bringing both you and him to your feet. He places the letter in your hand, and then proceeds to brush the sides of your uniform off. It’s rough, but you’re emotional and this feels like the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for you.

“Thanks,” you breathe. It’s hard to say, but you spit it out anyways. “I - I don’t know what to - thank you.”

Finally, Levi looks like himself again, because he rolls his eyes and mutters, “I just picked your lazy ass up, (L/N), don’t look so fucking grateful about it.”

You smile softly, but he looks away, obviously feeling awkward. He truly goes through moods like he’s trying on different outfits, the weirdo. You decide that just this once you can spare him - besides, you need to save face too. You turn around, intending to walk away.

The lieutenant grabs your hand at the last second. He grips it tightly, keeping your arm outstretched. If only your heart could stop lurching like this, it’s not as if he’s going to pull you in for a kiss - he’s not the type.

“(L/N).”

“Yes?”

“From now on, if you’re going to cry, you’re only going to cry because of me. Understood?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes, sir.”

He nods, satisfied, and lets you go.

____________________

You can’t believe you’re doing this.

In the past year, you’ve been to Lieutenant Levi’s office once, maybe twice or thrice. Either you had something to tell him (like how you couldn’t train due to severe emotional trauma, which was usually denied), or he led you there himself, to quickly grab something. How come he gets an office anyway? You’re pretty sure one has to be a captain or section commander to get their own space, and Levi is neither. You suppose being humanity’s strongest comes with its own benefits, even if it is an unofficial title. He gets to enjoy the finer things in life. Lucky him.

Anyways, you hadn’t planned on showing up here after hours, and certainly not with a steaming cup of tea in your hands.

Swallowing every bit of your pride, you knock on the door. “Lieutenant?”

No answer. You knock again.

And again.

It’s right as your knocks get just a touch louder that you hear him groan, “I’m coming, just hold on a second.”

When Levi opens the door, you take the quickest second to note that he looks how he did the day he walked you home, dressed in casual clothing. Realistically you know that no one stays in their uniform all day, but it’s still jarring to see him out of it. Someone might mistake him as approachable, although that ridiculous notion would quickly evaporate when they got a good look at his face.

He gives you a quick annoyed lookover, clearly waiting to hear your reason for disturbing him at this time.

“Chamomile,” you say with a grin, thrusting it forward, “Helps you sleep.”

He gives you a long, deadpan look.

“Who asked you to make this?”

“No one asked me.” You let out a puff of air to blow the loose strands of hair that have fallen out from your bun into your eyes. “I’m being nice. As thanks for...you know. Just take it.”

Levi doesn’t take it, but he does turn and go back into his office without closing the door, so you take the invitation and slip in, shutting it behind you. He slips into the chair behind his desk and you make yourself comfortable in the one in the front. There’s important looking documents all over, but there’s an order to them - a method to his madness. There’s not a single pen out of place. Of course, this is your obsessive compulsive midget who organized it, so you can’t expect anything else.

You slide the cup across the desk, where there’s another cup of tea already half empty. Oops, you’ve accidentally fueled his caffeine addiction. “That doesn’t look like chamomile.”

“It’s not. Just regular black tea.”

“Won’t that keep you up even more?”

“That’s the idea,” he says calmly, relaxed and leaning back.

“Wow, you’re a proud insomniac.” You shake your head in a disappointed manner. “If it were me, I’d at least try to sleep.”

Levi gives you a little glare, then pushes aside the paper he was working on to pick up your gift. He peers at it, looking a bit tired all of a sudden. It’s as though the day or the month or the entire year is catching up with him, and his eyes flicker to your eager face before he lets out a long sigh, raises the cup and brings it to his mouth.

Almost immediately he gags, slamming it down as his face scrunches up in disgust. “What the fuck, (L/N)? This is shit!”

Well, excuse you. You’re not a professional tea sommelier, and this isn’t some dainty cafe.

Still, you wince, crossing your arms and curling back into the chair. “Sorry. I’ve never actually made tea before. I’m not a fan.”

“Let me guess,” Levi says in a scathing tone as though you just admitted to cold-blooded murder, “you drink coffee.”

What an ignorant thing to assume.

“I drink milk, I’ll have you know.” You snap this at him, only realizing a second later that it’s not really something to boast about so proudly.

Something he clearly realizes as well, because he’s fighting back a smile and failing pretty miserably. “You drink milk.”

Well, there’s no taking it back now. “Yes.”

“Milk.”

“It makes your bones grow strong, okay?”

He laughs at you, leaning back in his seat. “Of course it does.”

“Don’t make fun of me, it does!”

You bite down the comment that comes to mind, which is that he must not have drank much milk otherwise he’d probably be taller. You’re here to be nice, you remind yourself, even if he’s being his usual infuriating self. There’s lots of nice things you can do, like...like…

Oh my gosh, are you the mean one in this relationship? No, that’s impossible.

“Looks like you have a lot of work,” you say, gesturing to the piles of paper on his desk. “Want some help?”

Levi raises a brow at you, as though to ask you how much help you possibly think you could be. That’s fucking rude. “No, I wouldn't want to waste your strong bones on some boring paperwork.”

It’s your turn to glare. Maybe focusing on his totally wrong opinions about your choice in beverage will help you ignore the fact that the two of you are sitting, dare you say, cozily, in his office. He’s not kicking you out, he’s indulging you in conversation, and he’s even taking another sip from the supposedly terrible cup of tea you made for him. Sure, he grimaces after drinking it, but he’s not throwing it out. That’s...something.

Your relationship with the lieutenant is quickly becoming something dangerous. You’re enjoying his company a little too much lately. You’re thrilling in his laughter too often, you’re drowning in his eyes an unhealthy amount. It could be chalked up to the fact that you’ve just grown accustomed to him, since you see him so often, but you know that’s not it. The more likely explanation is that you just have such low expectations for him that the second he shows basic human decency, you mistake your surprise for some newfound affection for the man. You want that to be the explanation, at least. The alternative is too awful to think about.

“So,” he begins, and you think you’re about to be kicked out until he says, “shitty mom. What’s that about?”

You sigh. That’s about the only conversation topic you don’t want to breach, but you suppose it can’t be avoided. “Typical rich girl problems. She wants to use me for her own purposes, so she’s not happy I got up and abandoned her. Plus, Dad died outside the walls, and she’s not really a fan of me following in his footsteps.” You feel comfortable telling him this much.

Levi looks thoughtful. “Do you plan to die out there?” He’s not fazed by your blunt attitude at all, which is kind of refreshing, actually.

But the question is still...well, how do you answer that? How do you answer it without disappointing him? And why does it matter if you disappoint him? You don’t have the answer to any of these questions, so you only shrug and avert your eyes, letting them drop down the floor. Your goals are your own, and he doesn’t need to know them. He doesn’t pressure you, only hums in understanding.

“I’ve really never had a cup of tea this bad.”

You smile, grateful for the change of topic. “No one’s forcing you to drink it. Lieutenant.”

“Insolent brat, you go a whole conversation and then add the title like you’re doing me some kind of fucking favor.” He’s good at avoiding the topic too. Your eyes light up, and you lean forward.

“Pardon me, sir. Lieutenant Levi. Your grace. My prince charming. The duke of destruction. My deepest apologies.”

“Not forgiven.” He smirks, thoroughly entertained. “Try harder.”

“Make me.” The response slips naturally through your lips, inviting and seductive.

Oh for the love of Rose, you think to yourself, please shut the fuck up. It’s like the second you resolve to keep things neutral with him, he sets something up so well that you have to say something borderline flirtatious. It’s just too easy with him. You lose all semblance of self control, and always end up saying something stupid.

“Should I?” Levi muses, a gleam in his eyes now. “Your mother did suggest that you marry me. Maybe I should take her up on that.” He leans forward with a cruel smile, as if the idea is perfectly enticing to him. “Would you finally be a good girl and listen to me then, (L/N)?”

You freeze, mouth falling open. You had really, truly forgotten that your witch of a mother had included that in her oh-so loving letter, and that he’d read it. Holy hells, the universe wouldn’t be satisfied until the man in front of you had humiliated you in every way, shape and form. And this right here, this is exactly the fucking problem. He never stops you when you unintentionally flirt with him - most of the time he ignores it, and other times he encourages you and you daresay he flirts back. To mess with you, of course, none of this is genuine, but it makes the butterflies in your stomach freak out either way.

“Probably not, sir,” you force out when you find your voice, “I’m actually not looking to get married at all, so if someone did make a wife out of me, I’d fight them tooth and nail.”

He snorts. “Of course you would. Have to make use of those strong bones somehow, don’t you?” This fucking midget, he somehow musters up the audacity to leave you flustered and then moves on and pretends like nothing happened. What an asshole.

“Oh my God,” you groan, “leave me and my milk alone, caffeine addict. Seriously, I know it’s bad out there, but it can’t possibly be bad enough for you to act like such a hardass all the time.”

Levi pauses, the sharp retort that he was surely about to fire dying on his lips. There’s a brief flash of sadness in his eyes, and you bite your lip. Fuck, maybe you’re the one who crossed the line this time. You have a quick apology ready to go. but he speaks before you get the chance.

“For your information,” he says coolly, “I’ve always been like this.”

Well, that’s interesting. He’s not wartorn, just a grump? No one is just negative all the time for no reason, they have to have been screwed over by life somehow. You can’t take his claim at face value, you just have to do some more digging.

“And why is that? Rough childhood?” You snap your fingers, invested in this new guessing game. “Orphaned as a baby. Cast aside by a sibling.” Your eyes sparkle mischievously as you grin. “Abandoned at the altar by your long time lover. She left you for your cousin!”

“It’s past your bedtime,” Levi says, standing up, “lovely of you to drop by, but you better get going.”

The cup that you gave him is now empty.

“Injury. Business deal went wrong.” He pulls you up by your arms, ignoring your scientific hypotheses. “Your favorite pet died. Ooh, I know, the company your father left you in charge of went bankrupt! Wait wait wait, Levi!” He’s pushed you out of the room and has a hand on the door, but before he can close it, you place your palm against his chest, looking at him very seriously.

“Is it the altar one?”

“Why do you need to know?” he asks, seizing your wrist to take it off.

See, this is what you mean by setting you up perfectly. It’s his fault, all his fault. “If my betrothed has a scandalous past, I think I have a right to that information.”

Levi shoves you out and slams the door shut, leaving you beaming as you begin to jog to your dorms. That’s another point for you, and now that you’ve paid him back for comforting you earlier the two of you are even, and you can return to planning for the battle that he has no idea he’s participating in. The stars shine brightly that night, and you sleep easy.

____________________

“Look, they’re back!”

Everyone ignores Grumman’s instructions to stay right where they are, an action they’ll probably pay for in blood, sweat and tears later. The Scouts are returning from their latest expedition, finally. Everyone around the base is always tense when they leave, and now people can rest easy knowing that the next one won’t be for a few months. There’s apprehension in the air - as of right now, no one knows who made it back and who wasn’t so fortunate. You feel a twinge of guilt at the relief that you know the only person is the Survey Corp that you care for know is the most likely to have survived.

Sure enough, there he is next to Captain Erwin, looking weary as he gets off his horse. You’ve pushed forward to the front of the crowd of cadets, all scanning the crowd. You find yourself sandwiched between Ricky, whose long legs make it easy for him to keep up with you, and Petra, who is sighing with a dreamy smile on her face. You follow her gaze, confused.

“What, one of them bring back some food?” You crane your neck to figure out what she’s looking so lovingly at.

“No.” Petra points discreetly, and you follow her finger. “It’s just, he’s rather handsome, isn’t he?”

“Who, Erwin Smith? I mean, I guess, but he’s not really my -”

“No, (F/N).” She shakes her head fondly. “Lieutenant Levi. Don’t you think he’s extremely good-looking?”

Next to you, Ricky barks out a laugh, and you elbow him as you utter with the grace of someone who hasn’t been fantasizing about Levi’s eyes since the moment you met him, “No, not really. You can do better, Petra, trust me.”

A soldier rides in late, his face panicked and sweat trickling down his face.

“Oh, come on, I know the two of you have your differences, but even you have to admit that -”

One second, you’re chattering with Petra and wrestling Ricky with one arm as he grinds your foot against his.

The next second, your ears are ringing with the words that the soldier screams as loud as he can.

“The titans have broken the outer wall! They’ve gotten into Shiganshina!”

In a single moment, everything you know and hold dear changes.

All at once people are shouting, screaming at the poor soldier who delivered the news to explain. The titans have gotten into Shiganshina? How could they have? Is he out of his mind? Who sent him? How many drinks has he had? What does he mean, they’ve broken the outer wall? It’s a wall, it can’t just be broken, so what does he mean? What is he talking about?

It takes you a minute to notice Ricky has completely frozen next to you. His hands are trembling, and he’s mumbling to himself and shaking his head, as though this is a nightmare and he just needs a good pinch to wake up.

“My - my mom and dad, and my sisters,” he’s saying. “They’re not...they can’t fight titans, they’re not soldiers. They need...need help…”

With a terrifying realization, you remember that he’s from Shiganshina. You’re grabbing his arm to steady him, words of reassurance getting stuck in your throat. You don’t know what to say - you can barely control the consuming fear growing inside you, let alone soothe his.

In the next few seconds, Commander Shadis has learned everything he’s going to learn from the messenger, and he lets out a scream you will remember for the rest of your life. The order that’s delivered to you on humanity’s darkest day is simple.

“All Survey Corps members will refill their gas and restock their blades immediately! I want you all back on horseback in five minutes, you hear me? We are riding back to Shiganshina right now! All cadets and other personnel at this base are to gather the rest of the horses and get behind Wall Rose to assist the soldiers there with the refugees! Is that understood?”

He’s met with the chilling cries of at least a hundred people shouting, “Yes, sir!”

Your voice was not among the people who answered. As people run past you to prepare, you run forward, because suddenly you’re scared. Suddenly you’re not so sure that he’ll come back. And you can battle with yourself all you want later, all that’s important to you right now is getting to him. Even as you see tearstained faces pass by, you keep running, because you have to catch him before he goes, you have to -

You catch up to him right before he disappears. Steely grey eyes meet yours as people rush past you, no one sparing even a second glance to the two of you.

For a second, he’s surprised. Then he turns cold, and hard, and you know that many people are about to die. And he’s going to have to witness every. Last. One.

“Is there someone in Shiganshina you need me to look out for?” Levi murmurs, with all the softness of someone who might be riding out to his death.

No, you want to scream. Ricky’s family, maybe, but you don’t even know what they look like, and he’s going to have to worry about saving enough people without you placing an extra burden on his shoulders. No, it’s nothing like that, you just want him to...you need him to...

“Be careful,” you manage to get out in a foolish, rushed request, “please be careful.”

Shock makes its way to his features, as though he thinks it’s out of this world for someone to ask him to stay alive for his own sake. Your heart clenches, but you’re not leaving until he promises you he’s going to come back.

“Levi!” Captain Erwin calls. You don’t have any time left.

Even before he speaks, you know that he’s not going to make you the stupid promise you were hoping for. He’s not flowery, and certainly not one to feed you bullshit. No, he’s real, the realest person you’ve ever known, and his answer is going to be as authentic as he is.

“I’ll do my best.” Levi pulls away from you. “You be careful too, (L/N).”

With that, he breaks away from you and is lost in the crowd.

You don’t even realize you had been holding onto him until your hand is left feeling bare, reaching for him in an endless sea of soldiers storming to their doom.

ohhhhhh, i’ve been waiting for this for a long time. surprise, things are happening!

mommy dearest is rather harsh, isn’t she? reader’s no sweetheart herself, but damn.

yes, there’s a slap on titan reference in there.

poor carla is getting eaten right about now, and reader is here having a moment. sigh.

comment and let me know what you think!

[bump1nthen1ght]

Waltz of the Vampire (Vampire x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Fat!Reader/Fem!Vampire

Genre: Fantasy (Vaguely Historical/Renaissance)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3469 words

Summary: You forcibly attend the ball of the rich family that has just moved to town, unexpectedly finding comfort with one of their daughters.

Request: Hey!! I love your writing a lot! Would you consider an elf or a vampire whatever suits your fancy with a fat fem!reader. I try hard not to hate my body but it can be really hard sometimes and I know a lot of people go through it not just plus size folks but... idk it’s my weakness and a huge comfort. Anyway I hope you have a awesome day!!!

A/N: I really loved writing this request, and after I finish Thicker than Water, I might make a part two.

Serena has been to a lot of parties. Too many, in her opinion, even over her 326-year span of life. Her matriarch, “Mother” as she is called by her and the coven, believes there is no such thing.

Every move they make is celebrated by a grand ball, invitations sent out to every available person. Mother claims it’s the best way for them to fit in, to hide in the crowd rather than the shadows.

Serena understands this, she’s seen it work wonder for their reputation time and time again, but she still does not like them.

Tonight is especially dreadful, a bad hunt the day before and a quick spat with her “brother” enough to sour the whole get together. Serena spends most of the night eluding suitors and dance partners, embracing a mysterious persona so she can enjoy some alone-time.

As she looks around at the dance floor, Serena concludes that she is not a fan of the new fashion statements of this era. A bit too strict, too formal, with precise lacings and starchy hoop skirts. It makes the dance floor too stuffy in her opinion, no room to twirl your fabric or move your limbs.

She sips on her special red wine, eye’s lazily perusing the hall for her siblings, hoping to gain some company, when she spots you. Selena is brought to a pause, mid-drink, as your embroidered skirt glimmers, catching the light as you twirl it across the room. Her eyes widen, determination peaked when she notices you don’t have a partner.

How beautiful.

----------

Oooh, I love this song.

You hum, unconsciously bouncing from side to side as your favorite piano piece begins to play. It’s a piece you have on your list to learn in the future, bubbly and cheerful with a bumpy melody and the option for a fun violin accompaniment.

The energy of the music quickly translates to the dance floor, where couple’s begin to giggle and improvise amidst the strict waltz and counted-steps. It’s a shame that it’s such a good piece because for the first time of the night, you really wish someone would ask you to dance.

When the news the MacArthur’s were throwing a huge welcoming ball had reached your household, your mother quickly began throwing together preparations for you to attend. You had sighed, set your feet in a preemptive ice bath, and ready for another boring night.

As a former socialite herself, from girlhood you were forced to attend party after party. While it had done as intended and transformed your sister into a perfect lady, it had the opposite effect on you. The stiffness of the hoop skirts, the suits, and all the damn people always stuffed up your throat and flushed your face. With your sister as the shining star, it was easy for you to slip into the shadows, and avoid the preening of your mother’s etiquette lessons.

Now, as a growing woman with more and more free-time, you used all of your abilities to avoid huge social gatherings. You found your place amongst small gatherings with local friends, sneaking wine from the cellar and telling stories in the freezing cold around a fire

But as the music increases it’s tempo, with flourishing skirts and plenty of laughter, you can’t help but lose yourself in the joviality of the gathering. The fancy dresses, the even fancier alcohol, and the decadent ballroom had you wondering if you had been missing out a bit.

If only Margaret and Min-Young were here, now that would be a party.

You giggle into your champagne, heels still tapping against the hardwood and hand slightly tossing your skirt back and forth. You easily fall back into your reclusive corner to avoid embarrassing eyes who may glance upon your solitude. But a tiny yelp escapes you when your heel accidentally digs into a foot. You whip around, faced already flushed red with embarrassment.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t look where...I was…”

Behind you, dressed in a dark purple satin gown, is Serena Macarthur herself. She stands a solid two heads above you, hair done up in an immaculate up do and two shimmering ruby earrings dangling from her ears. Her face is serene, lips curled up in a bit of a smirk. You quickly jerk away and give a half-decent curtsy, noticing her beautiful black dancing shoes which you just stomped on. “I apologize, Miss Macarthur, I can’t believe I acted so foolishly. I didn’t realize-”

“Oh, there is no need to worry darling. I’m alright, no harm done.” She says, her voice low and musical, almost like a thrumming bass line. Her gloved hand is placed on your shoulder, the other slides up your neck and tilts up your chin to meet her eye line.

My god, she is stunning.

Her eyes are a color you’ve never seen before, not dissimilar to the sharp gemstones in her earrings. Serena’s makeup, simple yet sharp, does everything to accentuate the cardinal-red of her irises. You can feel the simmering blush heating up your skin as she continues to stare. “I was actually coming this way to speak to you, flower. It’s my fault really, for sneaking up on you.”

You shake your hands, nearly spilling over the champagne in your glass. “Oh no, it’s no problem. Like you said, no harm done”. You force a giggle, hastily taking a sip of your champagne. “May I ask what you wished to speak of?”

Serena smiles, a smirk which is just as sharp as the rest of her, though her eyes betray no slyness or ill-will. “I was going to enquire about your dress. I noticed it from across the room and was stunned by how enchanting it is.”

“Oh! Well, thank you very much.” You blush, unconsciously rubbing your finger over the embroidered flowers on the skirt. “I actually-”

“Whoops!”

In less than a second, you find yourself right next to Serena, as a drunk dancer trips and spills his drink all over the floor. You blink, brain not even fully processing what just happened, as you notice Serena’s arm on your elbow and the red wine splattered where you stood just moments ago.

Did she move me? But when-how did she-

“Sorry! Sorry about that.” The man slurs, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. His partner, a distressed young woman, grabs his elbow and forces him to stand straight. “Guess I’ve had too much.” His embarrassed partner chokes out a laugh as he continues to sway.

“Yes, it seems you have. Make sure to fix that, soon.”

Serena’s tone is barely above talking volume, but holds a command like a powerful shout, Both of the dancers jerk with surprise, furiously bowing as the female drags the man out of the hall.

Serena sighs, rubbing her forehead with exasperation. She turns toward you, smiles back on her face.

“Would you like to take this to the garden? Seems the party is getting a bit too rowdy for good conversation.”

You nod, still a bit befuddled by Serena’s quick mood change and even quicker reflexes. But you link elbows when she holds hers up in invitation nonetheless, following her outside.

---------

The Macarthur estate is beautiful, as expected, and the garden fits that image to a T. Even in the moonlight you can see the finely cultivated roses bushes which decorate it, along with the gleaming marble fountain and sitting space under an ornately decorated gazebo. The two of your heels click along the paved path as you walk towards the center, your half-empty drink still in hand.

“You were sadly interrupted, but you were mentioning something about the dress?”

You nod, taking another long sip of your champagne, hoping a little alcohol may temper your thoughts.

“Yes, I was just going to say that I made it myself.” Serena’s eyes grow wide, eyes darting up and down your attire, and you feel yourself fluster. “It’s a tradition in my family, you see. My great-great-grandmother was very diligent when it came to teaching her kids how to sew, even the boys, and it became such an insisted upon skill that all her children ended up making their own evening clothing for special occasions. It ended up filtering down that every child makes one special outfit themselves, for what occasion it doesn’t particularly matter, but something thatt is uniquely you.” You pull up the end of your skirt, pointing out the flower pattern. “I’ve always had a fondness for gardening, so I tried to incorporate that into my dress. Plus,” You smooth out your skirt, “Most party dresses I’ve found are a bit too restrictive for my tastes, I wanted something I could really get into some fun with, y’know?” You force a giggle, immediately wondering if that comment was a bit too salacious for high-society talk. Serena simply smirks, letting out a low chuckle of her own.

“I wholeheartedly agree. May I take a closer look?” She gestures to your skirt and you hastily nod. The two of you take a seat by the fountain, Serena’s glove accidentally brushing against your calf as she picks up your skirt. You try and control your shiver from the simple contact. She hums admirably as she runs along your work. “Such incredibly done Sunflowers, the detail you put in is astounding. And these are forget-me-nots, correct?”

“Oh yes, those are my favorite kind.” Serena’s hands continue to run along the linework, following the bumps and dips of each flower petal. “As you can see I had trouble with the lavender, what with the petals being so small.” Serena shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She looks up at you, forcing you to hastily act as if you weren’t admiring her face.

“The work you put in makes them twice as beautiful, mistakes be damned.” You blush even harder, throwing your hand and taking a final sip of your champagne.

“Thank you very much, but I have a long way to go.”

Serena’s hand hasn’t left your skirt, now resting on her lap as she continues to look at you. You swallow the last droplets of champagne down your throat, trying to fill the silence.

“The band is incredible, did you hire them locally?” You stutter, setting down your glass. Serena continues to fiddle with your skirt.

“Some of them, yes, but the violinist is actually my older sister, Marigold.”

“Wow! Make sure to give her my compliments, she’s very talented.” Serena nods, before her eyes dart down your toes. As the music echoes out of the hall and into the garden, you had unconsciously begun to tap your toes to the beat. When she glances at you, she can see your head slightly bobbing, a content look painting your face. A small smile forces one on to hers.

How cute. She internally sighs, noting how soft the skin of your cheek looks, the nice curve of your jaw, and your adorable noise. The pulsing blood which would run down your throat, the crimson looking devine against your exposed collarbone and dripping below your breast line.

She stands up abruptly, forcing those evocative thoughts out of her mind. You were quite cute and good company, someone Serena would like to get to know. Sometimes the crossed wires of her brain confused attraction for bloodlust, mistaking the butterflies for hunger pains.. She is almost embarrassed; It was one of the common hurdles new vampires had to overcome, a bridge she thought she crossed years ago

You startle, looking up at her with innocent doe eyes. Serena holds out her hand, ignoring how she can hear your steady pulse, unintentionally matching the beat of the music.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” She almost whispers, bowing slightly.

Your face flushes, nodding without a word, and slipping your bare hand into her glove.

Serena boldly grabs your hip and presses you against her, quickly taking the lead. Your brain fervently recalls all of your formal dancing lessons, pressing your head into her chest as she takes you along.

In her arms, following her perfected steps, that slithering self-consciousness sneaks back into your brain. Your logic tries to reason with it;

You wanted to dance, but now that this beautiful woman has gladly offered her hand, you want to stop?

But your insecurities are louder, screaming about every trip and every spare touch. This close, you can feel her firm musculature through the dress, spotting the hint of her bicep as she leads you. With her dainty and elegant hand on your side, you feel twice aware of your size underneath, every imperfection concealed by your dress.

You had fallen in love with this dress when making it, but had always been hesitant to wear it. You feared that once you put it on, that beautiful picture in your mind would shatter, leaving you forlorned of what could never be. Not with you wearing it, you had thought, avoiding your own mirror as you left.

“Something on your mind, flower?”

Serena whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Your back jerks and contorts back into position, almost stepping your foot on hers. You shake your head furiously.

“Oh no! I-I just-” You stumble, trying to find an easy excuse, but are stopped when you take a look at her face.

She’s resplendent, even up close, not a hint of makeup to be seen. But across her cheeks, slightly faded from what looks like years away from the sun, are-

“My, you have such wonderful freckles.” You murmur, without a second thought.

Unbeknownst to you, if Serena could blush, she would. But the scrunched up look of embarrassment is telling, hinting that maybe this beautiful heiress has her own things she hides away.

“W-well, thank you.” She hastily utters, eyes averting from yours. It’s uncharacteristically shy and you can’t control the giggle that escapes you.

To give her some reprieve, you take your eyes off her face and trail them around the garden. They catch on the fountain, where the contrasting colors of your dresses stand out amidst the black. In the reflection, the two of you could not look more different. Serena stands a head above you, slim-fitted dark purple dress pulled across her curves, while your bright green dress cinches at the waist, flowing out like the flower's detailed skirt. It blows and beckons with every movement, brushing occasionally against your form and showing off the contours of your body.

Damn, you think, we look hot.

Just as fickle as it’s counterpoint, confidence quickly overtakes your mind, blocking out the noise of your doubt. You hold tight to your beautiful partner, in the beautiful dress that you made, and allow the happiness of this moment to exist uninterrupted, however short it may be.

The music increases its pace, the smooth line of a saxophone bringing up the energy. With a new burst of energy, you allow yourself to improvise amidst the  strict waltz. You lift your weight off your heels and try to glide from step to step, like the fast-paced tango dancers your mother once took you to see. Serena matches your enthusiasm, gripping your waist, even lifting you a few inches off the ground when a particular chord strikes. Her fingers slightly tickle your ribs, an ecstatic giggle escaping you and you falter a misstep. Your mind almost stops, embarrassed by your stumble and that insecurity sneaking back in, but Serena follows your new tempo with grace, urging you along with improvisation.

Your bodies follow the music with abandon, ordered steps devolving into impassioned stamps and twists, Serena twirling you around as the violin and piano sing from afar. Your heart and mind are running on adrenaline. It’s like when you were little, letting out your energy in any way possible. Serena’s laughter is magical and for once you don’t detest your awkward snorts and chuckles.

As the music slows, the two of you near-tumble back into the fountain, taking a seat with heaving chests.

“Whew, I haven’t danced like that in a while!” You say, brushing a stray hair back behind your ear. Serena nods, patting her stomach as she continues to laugh.

“Me as well. I forgot how fun it could be, when you’re not counting your steps.”

“Oh good, you do that too. I always wondered how no one got dreadfully bored just saying 1-2-3 over and over.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath and patting her thigh. Your other hand drifts down to the fountain water, letting your fingertips brush across the top and inadvertently catching your reflection once more.

It’s not the most flattering angle, your shoulders slump and the water slightly distorted, and those intruding thoughts try to slip in once more.

Oh shut up, let us have this.

Your logic sighs, batting it away without another second thought.

As the two of you sit, your energy eventually begins to drift back down, your muscles slightly tired from that short burst of impact. You sneak a glance at Serena.

While her outfit is still immaculate, her updo shows the smallest signs of dishelevement, curly black hairs falling down above her ears. In a way, she’s more beautiful than ever.

“Me and some friends are actually getting together next week. The shepherd's daughter, Violet, is getting married and they are throwing a little shindig at the barn to celebrate. Do you want to come?”

Serena looks up at you, slightly surprised, face furrowed with that hidden bashfulness. But she nods nonetheless, shooting you a bright smile.

Still high off your dance, you just barely miss her large fangs, which glimmer under the moonlight.

You smile back, only startled when the large bell tower from  the center of town chimes. Your head looks towards it’s large face and back towards the moon position. You’d guess it was midnight. Seems the two of you had lost track of time while dancing.

“Well, I should probably be going.” You say, standing up and brushing off your skirt. “I do have some gardening to attend to in the morning, going to need a solid amount of sleep. But,” You say, eyes demure and locked on your toes as Serena stands up, “I had a lot of fun tonight. More than usual, I would say.” You giggle, twirling a strand of your hair. Serena hmms in agreement.

“Me as well, flower. Your company has been the highlight of my night.”

In a bold move, Serena grabs your hand and lays a kiss on the back of it. Her eyes radiate that power and certainty from before, crimson irises shining in the night. Your blush crawls its way back up your neck.

“I-I can say the same.”

The two of you stay in that position for a moment, Serena pulling away her lips but keeping a lingering hold on your hand. Your heart thrums in your chest, while hers is deathly silent. Neither of you wants to be the first to pull away.

“I-uhm.” You stumble, hand still locked in place.

Now’s as good a time as any. You suppose.

In a quick movement, your hand loosens from Serena’s grasp and you give a quick peck on her cheek. In another, you have pulled away, sprinting towards your carriage.

“I-I’ll see you Saturday!” You shout, nearly tripping over a rose bush.

Left behind in the garden stands Serena, cold hand pressed against the burning skin of her cheek. Your kiss shot through her body like a lightning strike, almost jolting her frozen-heart alight.

That night, Serena goes for a hunt. She barely takes the time to change out of her formal clothes, nearly tearing the delicate lacework of her dress. Her claws catch on her gloves and almost rip apart, her heels scuffing the floor as she kicks them off and to the side. Her undead body is thrumming with life, untapped energy that longs to get out.

Her thoughts run a mile a minute, forcibly distracted by the Grizzly bear she currently has in a choke hold. It puts up a good fight, but Serena is running off of pure bloodlust.

At least, she thinks it’s bloodlust. A deeper part of her knows it's something else; The sparking fire of something new and a little bit frightening.

The last time she was personally invited to a ball, an event, a ceremony was less than a couple months ago. When you hold a position such as hers, look like her, they are common occurrences.

But to a party? Not a politically motivated meetup, but a genuine, let your hair down, party? Well, she hadn’t been to one since she was a youngling of 150.

And for the first time in a while, she is excited.

[junkercrush]

Could we possibly get a Jester!Junkrat x Fem!Maid!Reader story where its been a long day of hard work in the castle for reader and junkrat comes to put a spring back in her step with some funny routines

Thanks for the request, Anon! 

Finally, I put something together (it’s been so long >.<).

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Your Lovely Smile by junkercrush

Pairing: Fool Rat x Maid Reader

Rating: SFW 

Words: 1,693

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You had mixed feelings about the King’s jubilee: the glorious times and the disastrous aftermath you and the other servants had to clean up.

“Get up, wenches!” Your overseer Gabrielle yelled as you rolled over on your bed. The other maids in the crowded maids’ sleeping quarters groaned. A cock crowed right outside your window.

Gabrielle muttered something about the Devil under her breath. She abruptly smacked the cold stone wall with her rolling pin. You jolted out of bed in an instance.

“GET UP!” Gabrielle roared. She stomped over to a sleeping girl’s bed and pulled the poor girl out of the bed by her hair. The girl yelped as her body hit the floor.

“We have a long day ahead of us!” Gabrielle announced. “I want you all to start cleaning the entire castle.”

You cleared your throat, catching Gabrielle’s attention. She grabbed an empty mop bucket from the corner of the room and shoved it into your hands.

“You, Y/N, I want you to start scrubbing the floors at the grand dining hall!”

Perfect, that was the worst place to start. You’d rather shovel horse manure all day at the royal stables. You remembered how much of a mess it was last night. The knights and nobles were spilling wine and food on the floor. With anybody not realizing it, some guests were making love under the tables. Those damn nobles with their purchased whores. How did the King allow it? Oh yes, he was too drunk on spiced wine to even care.

You cringed at the thought of the mess you had to clean up from the lovers. Hopefully, they had the decency to take their used lambskin condoms with them.

“What about our breakfast?” An older woman asked in the far back of the quarters. She stood on top of her bed with her arms on her hips. Her grey hair was covering her face.

Gabrielle’s face softened. She sighs and tucked some of her curly honey blonde hair behind her ear.

“Steal some food from the kitchen.” She suggested with a wink. “Hurry before the kitchen staff stirs.”

All the maids in the room, including you, hurried to fix their beds and get dressed. You were the first to escape the bed chambers with your bucket. A random servant was sleeping shirtless on the floor. You leaped over him, noticing a sleeping hen on top of his bed. He must’ve had a wild night.

You remembered the honey-glazed bread and large pieces of ham from last night. Pray be there were still some leftovers. You snuck into the kitchen and found a serving platter of your favorite food on a wooden table. A half-naked chef slept underneath.

Quietly, you dumped the food into your bucket and hurried out of the kitchen before the other maids had a chance to steal a meal. You giggled as you heard a man yelling and females screaming. Looks like one of the chefs has caught your maid companions.

*~*~*~*

The floors were much more terrible than you imagined. There was splattered food, spilled wine, mud, and…bloodstains? You don’t remember any battles occurring in the dining hall. No matter, you had to clean it all up. Good thing you had a belly full of food to keep you energized.

You kneeled to the stone floor and started scrubbing. Your nose flared as the foul stench of vomit hit your senses. Immediately, you shot up from the floor, covering your nose.

“By the heavens!” You gasped. You had to take a moment before resuming cleanup.

Why were you the only one assigned to the grand dining hall? Did Gabrielle expect you to split into 10 people and get it all done by sunset? You hoped to God more servants will arrive soon to offer aid.

A pair of marching troops dashed through the dining hall. You glared at them as they made more of a mess of the floor with their muddied boots.

“How did he lose it?” One guard asked the other. “I swear I saw him sleeping with it.”

“No clue.” The other guard replied. “If we don’t find his scepter before the end of the day, he’ll have all of your heads!”

The guards glanced at you before they disappeared from the hall.

The scepter? The King’s scepter? Missing? Who had the courage to steal it?

You scrubbed the floor harder as more guards passed through the dining hall.

“Watch the wet floor!” You warned one of them. They only sneered at you and moved on. You cursed under your breath and soaked your rag in the bucket. You earnestly hoped Gabrielle will send more maids your way soon.

“Need a hand, m’lady?”

You looked up, eyes brightened with hope, only to meet a familiar jester looking down at you with a mischievous grin. The sight of the heavily face-painted man  made you fly backward, knocking over your only bucket of water.

“Jamison!” You yelped.

Jamison, the royal jester, laughed. He performed a little dance around you, sticking out his tongue. The bells attached to his wild blue hair jingled.

“I remember seeing you ‘round these parts last night.” He spoke. “Couldn’t keep me eyes off of you.”

You stood up, blushing, smoothing your soiled dress. You remembered serving the King’s guests while Jamison was busily humoring the King. Every moment the King laughed, Jamison turned to you, making sure you were watching him. You tried hard to stay focused that night.

“What do you want?” You asked. Jamison cackled.

“I got a gift for you.”

Jamison reached into his pants. You gasped and turned around.

“Jamison, this is no time for saucy jokes!”

“My dear, just look at this big beauty.”

You peeked behind your fingers.

“Jamison,” You gulped. The jester had the golden, jewel-encrusted scepter belonging to the King.

“You like?” Jamison wondered, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Take it back!” You ordered.

“Why?”

“The King will execute you if he catches you with it. You know how he is about his royal possessions, whether it be his countless mistresses or the crown!”

“Please,” Jamison scoffed. “The King and I are good friends. He wouldn’t kill me. What do you think he does with this thing? Turn his enemies into frogs? Stick it up his—”

Jamison pretended like he was going to insert the bejeweled end of the scepter into his bottom. You snorted with laughter. Jamison’s face lightened up.

“That’s want I wanted to see.”

You stared at him, puzzled. “What?”

A thunder of footsteps was approaching the dining hall.

“The guards!” You squeaked.

Jamison quickly stuffed the scepter into his pants. You didn’t know how he was doing it without anybody seeing his noticeable bugle.

“Maid,” A guard approached you; two more stood behind him. “The King is missing his royal scepter. Have you seen it?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, m’lord.”

The guard turned to Jamison. “What about you, jester?”

Jamison only grinned. “Not since last night, my friend.”

The guard glanced between the two of you long and hard. You coughed, and the guard stepped closer to you.

“Where were you last night?” He asked.

You swallowed nervously. Beads of sweat began to form on your forehead. In your mind, you only wished the guard would go away so you can resume cleaning and chat with Jamison.

“I was serving guests.” You answered.

“You haven’t seen anything suspicious?”

Jamison stepped behind the guards and pulled out the scepter. He twirled it around their hands like it was nothing. You tried hard not t to let laughter escape from you.

“N-no,” Your voice quaked.

Jamison placed the scepter at his crotch, pretending he was about to impale the guardsmen’s behinds with it. You covered your mouth and disguised your laughs with a horrendous bout of coughs. The guardsmen stepped back.

“Dear Lord, do you have the plague?” One frightened guard asked.

Jamison finally stuffed the scepter back into his pants.

“No, my lord.” You replied with a sweet smile. “All is well.”

A frantic guard rushed into the dining hall, sword out and ready for battle.

“We found the thief!” The prepared guard panted. “He’s trying to escape the premises with one of the king’s stolen horses!”

The other guards pulled out their swords.

“Alert the archers!” The lead guard ordered. “We can’t let him escape!”

You and Jamison waited for the guardsmen to leave before bursting out into fits of giggles. You playfully smacked Jamison’s exposed torso with your cleaning rag.

“How dare you attempt to make me laugh in front of the royal guard?” You spouted. “You and your vulgar phallus tricks!”

Jamison sat on the steps in front of the King’s dining table. He pulled out the scepter again, tossing it between his hands.

“But I did make you smile,” Jamison recalled with a toothy grin. “That’s what I wanted.”

You rolled your eyes and picked up your empty bucket.

“I better fetch more water.” You murmured.

“Hold it!” Jamison stopped you in your tracks. He flipped you around to face him. You forgot how freakishly tall he was up close compared to your small stature.

“Promise me you’ll share your lovely smile with me.” Jamison continued. He pressed the scepter against the side of your face, making circles with the tip caressing your face. “And only for me. Understood?”

Blood rushed to your cheeks again.

“U-understood.” You shivered at the scepter’s cold touch.

“Good!”

Jamison threw the scepter into the air, did a stunning triple backflip, and caught the staff before it hit the ground. You dropped your bucket and applauded him. Jamison bowed.

“Thank you, my sweet.” Jamison placed the scepter back into his pants. “Better return the king’s funny stick before he sets this entire kingdom on fire!”

Jamison blew a kiss at you and skipped out of the dining hall, giggling. You stood in place with a silly smile on your face until you could no longer hear Jamison’s jingling bells. Finally, it was time to get back to work before Gabrielle catches you slacking off.

Thanks to that jester, your entire day was already made.

                                                     THE END

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch 6: It’s A Nice Day For A White Wedding

Summary: It’s Jake’s wedding day and poor Fliss appears to be the only sober one in the Circle Of Truth…and then that all important question is answered. Is Baby Adler Pink or Blue? (Place your bets, please!)

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW NO UNDER 18s!!) Also some pretty heavy anti-Trump ranting so if this offends anyone, sorry (but also not sorry… I think the guy is as much of a buffoon as Boris fcking Johnson)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Just so you know, I couldn’t decide whether to give them a boy or a girl…so I literally wrote both down on a piece of paper and picked. 

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 5 And I would answer all your wishes, if you asked me to. But if you deny me one of your kisses, don’t know what I’d do. So hold me close and say three words like you used to do. Dancing on the kitchen tiles, yes you make my life worthwhile, so I told you with a smile, it’s all about you.

 Bonnie and Fliss stood in the small room at the side, the crowd of people milling around between there and the outside patio area whilst the main room was set up for the party following the conclusion of the sit down reception.

"It was a nice meal." Bonnie smiled.

"Yeah, really thoughtful of them to have the non-alcoholic wine available" Fliss smiled. “Felt nice to taste something that made me feel like an adult again.”

She looked around and her gaze settled on Frank who was leaning against the bar, his red tie long discarded, collar of his dress shirt undone. He caught her eye, flashed her a smile and then turned back to Greg continuing their conversation.

"He hasn't taken his eyes off you all day." Bonnie smiled as Fliss turned back to her. "It's cute"

Fliss smiled "You know he got me flowers yesterday. When I got back from work he had already left to come up here and when I called him to ask what they occasion was he said he just felt like it." She paused "I get the feeling he is still trying to make up for Vegas but he doesn't need to. We're good."

Bonnie grinned. "Did he tell you what he actually said to the girl?"

"I don't think he remembers" Fliss shook her head.

"Si does. Apparently he said, and I quote 'why the fuck would I want a Big Mac when I got a prime fillet steak waiting for me at home?’ “

Fliss blinked, and then let out a huge snort of laughter which attracted the attention of a few people around them. 

"How fucking rude" 

"She deserved it by refusing to back off the first time. Ho." Bonnie shrugged. 

"I don't mean that I mean him likening me to a piece of meat. Mind you, quite apt really..." she shrugged 

"How so?"

"He is constantly fucking horny." Fliss dropped her voice "Not that I particularly mind but the last week or so he's been really, really bad. Take Thursday for example. I woke up to him poking me in the back so he got a blowjob before we got up, then he fucked me on the couch that evening when Mary had gone to bed and then when I woke up to go to the loo at 2 am we did it again."

Bonnie sniggered "Maybe you're giving off some kind of sex pheromone because you’re pregnant."

"I know you're joking but..." Fliss shrugged "He’s always had a high sex drive but since I started really showing he has gotten so much worse. I think he has some kind of breeding kink."

"Must be so hard being you..." Bonnie said sarcastically "Nice man that buys you flowers and can't keep his hands off you...”

"He is the one finding it hard not me" Fliss grinned and at that Bonnie tipped her head back laughing.

Frank heard his girl’s laughter from where he was stood and watched as she tipped her head back, attracting the attention of a few of the guests with her loud cackles. His eyes scanned down her frame and back up again, lingering slightly on the gentle curve of her bump just visible under her dress as it hung over her lower body. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant knot at the base of her neck, a few strands hanging loose around her face and her eyes were lidded with a light dusting of rose gold powder, making her brown irises pop even more. The necklace he had bought her a while back hung around her neck, settling just above her cleavage which looked fucking amazing in that dress. 

The moment he had seen her earlier when she had arrived with Bonnie he’d felt the all too familiar stirring in his pants that he seemed to get every time he looked at her recently. His mouth had gone dry and he’d been totally ogling her, enough to cause Greg to slap him on his shoulder and tell him, jokingly, to stop being a pervert. 

Frank hadn't replied. He’d waited long enough to allow himself to open up to someone so they could see the entire shit show he was. He was happy, more than happy in fact. So as for being a pervert where Fliss was concerned? Well, he had no intentions of stopping at all. 

As he watched her now, aware he was once more staring at her, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and her hand went to her silver daisy pendant, gently twirling the silver chain in her fingers before she let go, pressing her hand over the pendant in the curve just above her breasts and that was it, he was done.

He wanted her, now.

Necking the short that Greg had passed him he patted his friend on his shoulder and told him he would be back shortly before striding over the room towards the two women. As he made his way over, dodging round a few people, he saw Fliss reached out and snatch Bonnie’s beer, taking a mouthful, letting out a groan of satisfaction. Bonnie’s eyes flew to him as he approached and he put a finger over his lips, telling her to be quiet.

“Pretty sure you ain’t supposed to have that…” Bonnie chastised, her eyes flicking back to Fliss as she took the bottle back.

“One mouthful won’t hurt.” Fliss replied, her shoulders rising in a shrug. “I always take a swig of Frank’s before I hand it to him…just don’t tell him.”

“Too late.” He leaned down and said in her ear, causing her to shriek slightly and jump as his hands settled on her hips, beard tickling her cheek and neck.

“Fuck! Fran, what you trying to do, send me into early labour?” she tilted her head to look over her shoulder at him before she glared at Bonnie “You could have warned me.”

Bonnie shrugged and grinned as she walked off. Fliss wrinkled her nose and turned in Frank’s arms, looking up at him sheepishly

“That was naughty.” he teased and she grinned a little.

“It was one mouthful…”

“I’m only teasing.” He smiled, dropping his mouth to hers in a sweet kiss and she sighed. He tasted of scotch and the cheesecake that they’d had for desert. “I told you before, one glass or one bottle won’t hurt if you want one.” “No, I don’t.” She shrugged “Just wanted a little taste that’s all.”

“Yeah well, now I want a taste of something.” “What are you talking about?”

“I want you.” He said, his mouth by her ear and he felt her still slightly, her breath hitching and he grinned, planting a soft kiss to the crook of her shoulder. He knew the effect those words had on her, being wanted as opposed to needed, it was a subtle difference, but one he knew meant something to her, and him for that matter.

“What, now?” She looked at him as he pulled away, glancing around the room before he looked back down at her.

“Right now.” He nodded.

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” He looked at her, “What’s the Ladies bathroom like?”

“You wanna do me in the ladies.” She deadpanned as he tugged her hand and pulled her away from the crowded foyer towards the bathroom.

“Yup.” He checked around once more to see if anyone was watching, before he opened the door and nudged her back gently with his hand so she entered the room in front of him.

“Wow, romantic, Frank.” Fliss said sarcastically as she arched an eyebrow, turning to face him.

“I’m being spontaneous.” His eyebrow arched as he backed into the cubicle, pulling her with him, reaching round to lock the stall door.

“There’s nothing spontaneous about you wanting to jump my bones” She looked up at him as her purse clattered to the floor, “You’re constantly after a bit at the moment.”

“Can you blame me Sweetheart?” he whined, looking down at her, his eye-line trained on her cleavage “You turn up…looking like that…been killing me sat next to you all afternoon. Frankie has needs.”

“My face is up here jackass!”

“I know.” he said, his gaze not moving “I was talking to Ben and Jerry.”

“Ben and Jerry.” Fliss scoffed “You named my boobs?”

“Only since they got bigger.” he grinned as his eyes moved back to hers

“Why Ben and Jerry?” she asked as his hands gripped at her hips.

“Because they’re delicious and soft like ice cream.”

Fliss snorted and he grinned at her, his eyes glazed slightly.

“You’re drunk” she stated.

“Nah ah, it’s hormones.” he said seriously.

“No.” Fliss laughed “I’m pretty sure you’re drunk. I saw you, Simon and Greg before, all necking from the hipflasks you each have in your pocket whilst they were taking the photos.” “Yeah, but.” Frank shook his head “I aint that drunk. Scouts honour.” “Like you were ever in the scouts.” she laughed, her hand brushing through his hair.

“Actually I was, you can ask the mothership.” he assured her “They kicked me out after 5 months thought. I made rude words out of a load of string that we were supposed to be using to mark out a flower bed at the old people’s home.”

Fliss let out a groan “Bean is gonna be a monster.”

“No they won’t” he shook his head “Gonna be sweet…” he placed a kiss to her lips. “…and gentle, just like their mamma bear.”

His hand moved to cup her cheek, fingers grazing her neck as he pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss quickly became heated and Frank pressed up against her, the door to the cubicle rattling slightly, neither of them paying it much attention. His other hand grabbed a fist full of her dress, and he was just hoisting the tulle layers up when the noise of voices hit their ear as the door to the bathroom opened. They both stopped dead, and Fliss bit her lip to stop herself from laughing as Frank grinned down at her, his finger flying to his lips as his shoulders shook with his silent sniggers. A few doors down the cubicle door opened and they waited for whoever it was to finish. Eventually the toilet flushed and the door unlocked, before the tap began to run.

“I’d hurry up you guys…” Bonnie spoke, amusement in her tone as Frank and Fliss looked at each other, “You’ve been gone 10 minutes already.” At that Fliss burst out giggling as Frank snorted and his face dropped to Fliss shoulder where he pressed a kiss to her skin, his lips sliding up to her neck, gently nipping beneath her ear, his hands fondling her breasts over her dress. She gave a low groan and he smirked against her skin.

“Still don’t wanna?” he teased and she shook her head.

“Fine, just…get on with it then you twat.” she mumbled into his ear and he looked at her, grinning.

“I love it when you swear in British baby.”

“I can talk dirty in British too…” she quipped.

Frank gave a groan, slanting his mouth on hers as he pulled her with him, her fingers undoing his belt and trousers, pushing them down with his boxers over his hips, before he sat down on the closed toilet, taking himself in his hand and pumping himself a few times until he was rock hard as she leaned down, kissing him.

“Turn round…” he said against her mouth and she did as she was told. His hands bunched her skirt up to her hips and she reached down to move it of the way as he grabbed her hips and pulled her down, shifting her underwear to one side. In a fluid moment she sank down onto him, both of them letting out soft moans as Frank’s arm circled her waist protectively around her bump as she tipped her head back against his shoulders, his hips moving upwards.

She ground down on him, rotating her hips and he let her set the pace, more than happy to simply sit there, holding her, trailing sloppy kisses over the exposed skin on her back. The hand that wasn’t round her waist moved up to the front of her dress, slipping inside the low plunge neck line to her bra-les breast, rolling her nipple softly causing her to shudder and push down on him further.

“Fuck, Lissy…” he groaned, his forehead pressing on her shoulder “Feel so good baby girl..”

Her response was a low pant of his name as her hips moved faster, snapping back and forth as she pushed down even further, seeking out the friction she desperately needed. Her head tilted and he caught her mouth in a sloppy kiss, swallowing another moan as she pushed down further, his hands pulling her onto his lap as he fucked up into her over and over.

It was dirty, quick and in his many times with women he wasn’t quite sure he’d fucked anyone in a bathroom before, certainly an alley way or two, a dark corner of parking lot too, but it didn’t matter either way as he was damned sure it wouldn’t have been as good as this, the woman who was carrying his baby, the woman he loved with all his heart bouncing on his lap as they both raced to their ends. As Fliss tightened down, her head rolling back, she parted her lips and let out a low keen as Frank’s hand gently moved upwards, his fingers caressing the font of her throat as he held her against him, turning her head towards his so he could catch her mouth in a filthy kiss as he pushed up for a final time and came with a grunt. They both sat still for a while before he gave a little hum as Fliss chuckled as his hands wrapped around her, resting on her bump.

“You’re a bad man.” she mumbled and he grinned, giving her a quick kiss.

“Yeah but I’m your bad man.”

With a snort Fliss stood up and Frank rearranged himself, standing up and pulling up his pants. With another soft kiss Fliss told him to go out ahead of her whilst he sorted herself out so as not to attract too much attention to where they had been, even though she was pretty sure Bonnie had already told their friends.

Telling her he would meet her at the bar, with a final peck to her lips Frank headed out of the cubicle. He quickly checked his appearance in the mirror and once he’d straightened his suit and smoothed his hair down slightly he pulled the door open to be met with a round of applause as Simon and Greg stood by the pillar outside the bathroom, both grinning as they clapped.

Frank grinned as simply took a bow before the three of them laughed and Greg slapped him on the back as the three of them headed to the bar.

***** “Welcome to the dance floor….” The DJ’s voice rang out over the room “The new Mr and Mrs Neill…”

Jake swept Lisa out onto the floor and Fliss smiled, watching a the woman’s dress billowed out behind her and he took her into a hold as the opening bars to Signed, Sealed Delivered by Stevie Wonder rang out. Jake began to twirl Lisa around, the pair of them laughing a various people took photos, recording. Frank dropped a kiss to the side of Fliss’ temple and she smiled as his fingers curled around her hip.

“They look so happy.” Fliss smiled.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded “Good job really, seeing as they just got married.”

Fliss smiled and then there were some giggles as Jake and Lisa’s young girls ran onto the dancefloor to join their parents, which gave the couple the signal to wave everyone else in to join them.

“Shall we?” Frank asked, turning to face Fliss and she grinned.

“Lead the way Sailor.”

They stepped out onto the dancefloor where Frank gently took her left hand in his right, his other hand curling round her back, fingers splaying at the bottom of her spint.

“Can’t pull you quite as close as I’d like.” he quipped glancing down and Fliss shook her head as she looked at him, a soft smile spread across his face “You’re beautiful.” “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.” she smiled as he twirled her around the floor, his movements upbeat in time with the song. He was actually a pretty good dancer, which Fliss knew already from the various times they’d been out, but it never failed to make her smile the way he could move so gracefully for such a tall, broad shouldered man. When she had passed comment on it once he had grinned and informed he that it was ‘all in the hips’, hips that were now easily snaking side to side as he moved in time with the music, stepping back from her a little, his hands taking hers. Fliss laughed, simply dancing along with him and eventually the music changed into another upbeat song. The pair of them stayed were they were, dancing with their friends and enjoying themselves until after about 20 minutes or so Fliss declared she was out, and needed the bathroom again before she was going to sit down.

“To pee this time, right?” Bonnie called after her. Fliss didn’t even look back, simply raised her finger up over her shoulder as she left the dancefloor.

Once she had washed her hands she touched up her make-up, glancing at her cheeks which were quite flushed from the heat and the dancing, before she headed out. Frank was waiting for her by the door.

“People will talk, you hanging around outside the Ladies.” she grinned.

“Only one lady for me.” he winked back and she shook her head.

“Smooth.” “I try.” he grinned, kissing her cheek “Wanna get a drink?”

“Yeah.” she smiled, slipping her hand in his as he led her over to the bar.

Frank ordered himself a beer, deciding he needed to take a break from the hard-stuff and Fliss a water. As she took it from him with a thanks she glanced around watching everyone dancing and milling around, cocking her head to one side, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Penny for em.” Frank said and she turned to look at him smiling.

“Nothing of interest really.” she mused “Just thinking about all this. It’s been a nice day and a lovely ceremony and clearly what Lisa and Jake wanted but…” “Not what you want.” Frank smiled “Yeah, I know.” “But what about you?” she asked, looking at him. “I know we joke about how I’ve been there and done it but…” “Liss.” he cut her off, his hand curling round her hip. “Do you really think that all this showy shit is my style?”

“No, not really.”

“Exactly.” he smiled at her “I told you, I’d be happy to run away, me, you and Mary and do it with just the 3 of us there. But I’d probably get lynched by your mom and dad so…” He pulled her into his side closer, dropping a kiss to his head “It can be whatever we want it to be.”

We.

That word hit her hard, because her last wedding had been all about how her stupid bastard of a husband wanted to show the world how rich and special he was. There wasn’t a thing about that day she had chosen for herself, including her dress and her bridesmaids. She looked up at Frank, her eyes clouding slightly and he chuckled, shaking his head at her sudden emotion.

“Come on, let’s go sit down.” he smirked, nodding to a table at the side of the room where Simon was just taking a seat. Fliss nodded and allowed him to lead her over.

As is usually the case with weddings, people flit around all over the place. Fliss found herself dancing again with Bonnie, then talking to a few of Jake’s old school friends, then to some of Lisa’s friends, one of whom had her own horse so they got caught up in a lengthy chat about show-jumping and before long she realised she’d been away from Frank for well over an hour without realising. She finished up the conversation and headed back to where he was sat at a table, animatedly discussing something with a white haired gentleman, Bonnie watching him with a slightly amused expression.

"The guy is a fahking melt..." Fliss heard Frank groan as he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

"Who is he talking about?" Fliss asked as she sat down next to Bonnie.

"Trump" Bonnie replied, grinning.

"Oh this should be fun..." Fliss smirked, and Bonnie nodded.

"The guy he is talking to is apparently a big fan..." she turned to face Fliss, "But he's yet to give any kind of pro- Trump argument which Frank deems worthy of consideration. Oh, and Frank is getting more Boston with every sentence.”

“Yeah he does that.” Fliss she said, fondly turning her attention to Frank who shook his head and wrinkled his nose.

"You're being disrespectful." The man who Frank was talking to shook his head "He's our president."

Frank scoffed "Disrespectful? Not really, I just find it beyond comprehension that this country elected such a damaged, sociopathic narcissist."

"Say what you mean Frank." Bonnie nodded sagely and Fliss bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. Frank was in full flow, however, and fuelled by the amount of alcohol in his system he wasn't about to stop any time soon.

"John Oliver hit the nail on the head." he continued, necking the last of his beer. "Trump could be drowning in the damned ocean and he'd there, waving the lifeboats away screaming 'get out of here, I'm very buoyant, I'm the most buoyant. Everybody talks about my buoyancy... I'm a tremendous floater' ...fahkin jack-ass."

"Who got Frankie boy talking about Trump?" Simon asked, placing the tray of drinks down and handing them out. Fliss took her Sprite with a thanks as he slid a short tumbler of scotch over the white table cloth to Frank, before flopping down on the other side of Bonnie, dropping a kiss to her cheek. Bonnie nodded to the gentleman who was now saying something back, to which Frank let out a lout guffaw of laughter as Greg settled into a seat a few down from Fliss.

Simon grinned "Come on Jack!" he spoke and the man turned to face him "It's a wedding, no politics."

"I only stated I happened to agree with his policy of putting American's first..." the man held his hands up.

"And I only pointed out that his misguided beliefs that migrants are to blame for all of America's ills are exactly that, misguided." Frank shrugged, shooting a wink at Fliss as he reached for the glass of amber liquid in front of him. "People should look closer to home...at the people who run the damnedcountry, not everyone in it merely tryin'a make a living..."

"His policies made sense when I read them..." the man called Jack shrugged. “Well thought out, articulate…” At that Frank leaned back, shaking his head, an unbelieving smile on his face as he gave a groan “Articulate…come on…”

"You kniow..." Bonnie leaned forward "A random monkey hitting keys for an infinite amount of time will eventually come up with the works of Shakespeare" she swallowed the rest of her drink. "All Trump really needs to be considered one of the greatest Presidents of all times is an infinite amount of time and a monkey that can type."

At that Frank snorted into his glass and reached over the table, holding his hand up. Grinning Bonnie hi-fived him and Simon, Greg and Fliss exchanged a glance, before Fliss leaned forward.

"You know how they measure horses in hands." she said and Frank turned his attention to his girl, his eyes shining "well he must have the biggest horses on the planet." she said, making a claw like gesture with her right hand and Frank let out another loud bellow of laughter, his hand flying to his stomach.

"And why are his eye sockets always white?" Greg asked, looking into his glass like it held the answer before he glanced round at them all. "Like, you think someone would tell him to use the sunbed without the goggles every once in a while..."

At that Jack shook his head and stood up, walking away.

"Something we said?" Bonnie asked, innocently as Simon leaned back in his chair and spoke, his talent for impressions ringing out across the table as he imitated the President's voice perfectly "I'm going to build a wall, and it will be the greatest wall ever known to man, even better than China's...my time as President will go down in history as being part of America's dumbass years, the most dumbass years ever..."

As the 5 of them laughed, Jake plopped down at the table, pointing at Simon, then Frank then Greg.

"No politics at my wedding, bitches."

"We're not talking politics..." Frank hiccupped slightly "We were just roasting the cheeto skinned, toupee wearing prick."

"His dad should have definitely wiped him on a curtain." Greg nodded, causing everyone at the table to laugh once more.

"All that sperm and he got there the quickest." Simon sighed "Makes me wanna cry."

"You know what is gonna make you cry?" Jake looked at him "My foot up your ass. Come on guys, this is my fucking wedding. Let’s go do shots and rip up the dancefloor!"

"Oooh...shots..." Bonnie nodded, standing up.

"What happened to taking it easy in solidarity?" Fliss narrowed her eyes at her, patting her bump.

"I'm weak." Bonnie shrugged as Simon tugged her to the bar, Greg rising to follow them.

"Frank?" Jake asked

"I'll pass." he smiled

"I could get em to make you an apple juice shooter?" Jake offered as he patted Fliss' shoulder. She flipped him the bird as he walked off, chuckling to himself.

Frank pause for a moment, taking in his girl's slightly flushed cheeks before he stood up, grabbing his glass which contained what was left of his short, and rounded the table to sit next to her.

"C'mere..." he said, patting his knee. She stood up and settled on his lap, his arm curling round her waist, fingers brushing the side of her bump "You ok?"

"Yeah." she smiled "Which is more than you're gonna be in the morning."

"I'll live" he smirked, necking the rest of his liquor. "No one has ever died from a hangover Sweetheart."

"There's time." she smiled and he grinned up at her, placing his glass on the table. 

"How's Bean?"

"Cooking." she grinned

"And Momma bear?"

"You asked me that a few seconds ago."

"And I'm asking again."

"In that case I'm still fine." she grinned leaning down to give him a peck. Frank smiled at her as she leaned back, his hand brushing her hip as he looked around the room.

"I wanna get married." he said, looking back to Fliss.

"We are."

"No, I mean like actually do it." he smiled "I wanna set a date."

"Don't you think we have enough to organise?" Fliss chuckled "Finding a house seeing as you're so adamant you want to move before Bean arrives..."

"They need a nursery." he pouted and Fliss smiled, running her hands through his hair. 

"So you tell me." she replied "And then there's actually a small matter of me giving birth..."

"Piece of cake..."

"Oh really?" she looked at him "How about you squeeze a bowling bowl out of your vagina and then tell me it's easy..."

Frank laughed and grinned up at her "You'll be amazing...you always are." he placed a kiss to her bare shoulder. "But seriously...don't you wanna marry me?" he pouted.

"No, I just took this ring because it was shiny." Fliss rolled her eyes at him "Of course I do."

"Well...couldn't we just like pick a month...so...I have some kind of marker in the sand?"

Fliss looked at him as he turned his puppy dog eyes on her and she shook her head, giving a soft huff

"You're such a soft bastard when you're drunk."

He shrugged "I can't help it. You make me feel things."

"And I don't when you're sober?" she teased.

"Shut up." he looked at her and she grinned, running her hand through the whiskers on his face. His beard was now actually pretty impressive as he'd let it grow out properly, it was way beyond the untidy, short stubble it had been when she'd first met him. But then again he was also quite far removed from that fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, lost and damaged man he had been. He'd grown, a lot. And so had she. He knew it, she knew it...and the fact they had done it together made it all the more meaningful and special.

"September." Fliss smiled "Next year. Bean will be 1 by then and things will have settled. Think you can wait that long?"

Frank beamed at her "Yeah? You mean it?"

She nodded.

"Then September 2020 it is." his lips stayed curled up at the side as she dipped her head again and pressed her mouth to his. She pulled back, and found herself mimicking the infectious smile on his face. "I can't wait to make you Mrs Adler." he whispered.

"Who says I'm changing my name?" She teased and he frowned a moment before he shrugged.

"I just assumed..."he began to back track "I mean if you don't want..."

"Frankie..." Fliss cut him off, her hands cupping his face "I'm joking. I can't wait to have the same surname as you, Mary and our little one."

"God I fahkin love you..." he spluttered and she laughed, leaning back a little bit. At that point the opening bars to Hungry Like The Wolf hit their ears and Fliss heard Bonnie shriek her name. 

"Miami BITCHES, HOLLERRRR!" Simon yelled as he leaned on the back of Frank's chair.

"Shall we?" Fliss asked, standing up. Frank grinned, took her hand and allowed her to pull him onto the dancefloor. As she began to dance and laugh with Bonnie his hand fell to her hips, pulling her back against him, just like he had done all those months ago in Miami, before everything had taken such a huge change in direction. A dramatic change, but a change he was loving day by day. As he felt her push back slightly against his groin he gave a low groan and bent over.

“Stop it or I’ll be dragging you off to the bathroom again.”

She tilted her head, looked at him all doe eyed and innocent and he shook his head, arching and eyebrow.

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry.” she spluttered and he rolled his eyes before she turned round to carry on dancing, this time behaving herself.

As it was getting later into the evening, after a few more 80s hits the music took a turn and dimmed into something softer, and Fliss cocked her head to the side as Frank reached out to her, pulling her to him.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It’s called God Gave Me You.” Frank said, his fingers curing around hers “By Blake Shelton. He’s a Country singer.”

“Ohh, the dude that’s with Gwen Stefani.” Fliss nodded.

“Yeah, I heard it for the first time in ages in the truck the other day.” Frank said “When we went to Tampa.”

“I thought it sounded familiar.”

He smiled, refraining from telling her he’d been playing it on a damned loop for days since because every time he heard it, it simply reminded him of her.

As he steered her around, he became lost in the lyrics, not really paying attention to anything but realising how much they stuck home, how they were true to what he felt about Fliss. How he had been a mess until she’d appeared and given him everything he didn’t even realise he needed and more. How she had fit so perfectly into his and Mary’s life. How she was now carrying his child. How he would always love her…

He felt her squeeze his hand and he looked down and she was grinning at him.

“You’re singing.”

“Am I?” he asked, giving a soft chuckle “Sorry, I didn’t realise…”

“Don’t worry about it, no one else heard. Besides you have a good voice, not like mine.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything but the other day when you were singing in the shower Mary thought Fred was stuck somewhere and crying to get out.” Fliss laughed and shook her head “Yeah it isn’t one of my talents. I’ll leave it to you.”

He smiled and gave her a soft kiss.

“You singing it to me or Bean?” Fliss asked, smiling at him as he twirled them round slightly.

“Without you there would be no Bean.” He shrugged simply and at his words he saw her eyes misting over.

“Frankie…” she muttered and he chuckled slightly, his hands cupping her face.

“Baby, what’s…”

“That’s so sweet and…” she spluttered shaking her head “Fucking hormones”

He laughed and pulled her closer, still swaying to the music and she let out a sight. Frank felt her sagging a little in his arms and then it struck him. It was almost midnight. She had been up since 8, they’d been out at this wedding one way or another for almost 12 hours now and she was 5 months pregnant.

“You tired honey?” he asked and she shook her head where it was pressed against his chest. “Liar.” he kissed her head softly.

“Ok maybe a little.” she looked up at him

“Wanna go?”

“It’s still early.” she looked at him. “I don’t mind if you want to stay, I can go and-“

“Absolutely not.” he shook his head “It’s half 11 now and I’ve drunk more than enough…Jake and Lisa won’t mind.”

“You sure?”

“Course. I’ll go get call us a cab.”

When he came back Fliss was at the table gathering her purse and his jacket. They made their rounds, said good bye to their friends and Frank led his girl out into the starry sky hand in hand.

*****

All things considered, on the Sunday morning Frank woke fairly clear headed, which Fliss pointed out shouldn’t have happened with how much he had drunk. They had a lazy morning before they headed home to pick Mary up, who was full of beans about how Steve had taken her out playing mini-golf the previous afternoon. They stayed for dinner at Bill and Verity’s before they made their way home along with the 4-legged fur babies and it wasn’t long before all 3 of them crashed out, the exertion of the weekend catching up on them all.

Monday and Tuesday seemed to drag by for Frank, and there was a reason. On Wednesday they finally got to find out what Bean was. Their scan was in the afternoon and Mary once again wanted to come, especially as she knew she would find out whether it was gonna be a girl or a boy that joined their little family in roughly 19 weeks or so time. Once more she was ignored and packed off to school with a frown on her face.

Frank was like a coiled spring all morning. The guys at work teased him relentlessly about how he was bounding around the place like Tigger on cocaine but he didn’t care. He was beyond excited to find out whether they were going to have a son or daughter. At exactly 12 he finished work and headed home. Fliss was already waiting for him having changed and showered and chatting excitedly they hopped in his truck and headed to the hospital. They were early so went to grab a drink at the coffee shop- Fliss having been told to drink plenty of water as it would help with the scan, and then when they had 15 minutes to their appointment they headed up.

“Miss Gallagher, Mr Adler.” Dr Kent smiled at them as they walked in “Nice to see you again.”

They both greeted her and Fliss settled on the bed, getting herself comfortable as Frank slid into the chair by her side. After answering the questions the Doctor asked her about how she was feeling, whether she was worried about anything, all the time Frank trying to pay attention but his mind was on one thing and one thing only. Seeing his baby again.

And when that time finally came, his heart skipped a beat. On the 3D scan there was so much more detail to take in this time. He could make out the little nose, the ears, eyelashes…fucking eyelashes. A tiny hand curled by its face which twitched as their baby move slightly.

“It says here that you want to know what it is…” Doctor said, looking at them both “Is that still the case.”

“Yeah…” Frank said, at the same time Fliss spluttered.

“No, I mean yes… “

Frank frowned “Liss? I thought…” “Could you write it down for us?” Fliss cut him off, smiling at the doctor.

“Ahh you doing a gender reveal?” The woman nodded, and Frank’s frown grew deeper. They hadn’t discussed that.” Not a problem…”

The doctor looked at the screen and Frank glanced at Fliss questioningly but she softly shook her head at him and squeezed his hand, telling him silently to trust her. The Doctor smiled, and headed off to write the results down and a soon as she had left the room, Frank turned to Fliss

“What are you doing?”

“I just had a thought…” Fliss took a deep breath “that if we do it this way, you know get it written down to open later, then Mary can be there with us when we find out.”

And once again, just like that, her fucking thoughtfulness knocked him sideways. He blinked and shook his head, smiling as he brought his eyes back up to meet hers “You’re fucking amazing you know that?” Of course the only thing wrong with her plan was that they now had to wait another 3 hours for Mary to come home.

Frank collected her from the bus stop and as usual was greeted by the grumblings that she was perfectly capable of walking home across the little park on her own, to which he shot back his usual I don’t care response. She walked into the apartment with her usual swagger, tossing her bag over the back of the sofa before she wandered into the kitchen where Fliss was stood chopping up salad for dinner

“So.”  she said, dramatically “You gonna tell me then or what?”

Frank looked at Fliss who smiled before he spoke “Actually, you’re gonna tell us.”

“What?” she looked at him

“You’re gonna tell us what it is.” he repeated.

“Like how?” she rolled her eyes “I wasn’t even there.”

“We got the Doctor to write it down.” Fliss explained, “And seal it in an envelope.” Mary’s eyes widened “You mean…you guys don’t know?” Frank shook his head “Fliss thought it would be nice for all 3 of us to find out together.”

She looked at him, then to Fliss, her blue eyes filling with tears a she ran to Frank, her arms circling his waist.

“Hey…” he chuckled, crouching down and looking her in the face, his hand brushing her hair back slightly as she sniffed and gave a watery laugh “We good?”

She nodded and smiled “Where is it? The envelope I mean.”

“On the coffee table.”  he said, kissing her forehead.

“Can we do it now?”

“I hope so.” Frank said, looking up at Fliss “Been waiting all damned afternoon.”

“Oh hush.” Fliss replied as he stood up, Mary in his arms.

“You know you’re getting kinda big now Stack.” he grunted a little as he shifted her onto his hip.

“You’re still bigger.” she said as he dropped her down onto the floor in the living room.  She looked at the envelope and when Fliss nodded at her she picked it up.

“You know…” she mused, looking at Frank “If I open this that technically means that I was the first person to know. Well, other than the doctor…but they don’t count.” Frank looked at Fliss as his arm slid round her waist. “Yeah..” he turned back to Mary “Pretty cool, huh?” She grinned at him and took a deep breath “Ok…here goes….”

Frank felt his heart suddenly become quicker in his chest as he watched Mary pull open the envelope and look at the small slip of paper inside. She read the words, looked at them both, her eyes shining.

“Wow…” she breathed out.

“You’re killing us Stack!” Frank spluttered “What the hell is it?”

“It’s a boy!”

There was a pause and Frank blinked. “What?” he breathed out and looked at Mary “Are you sure?”

“I can read, Frank?” she narrowed her eyes at him, handing him the piece of paper. With a shaking hand he took ait and looked down at the words the doctor had written on them. As he read them, “Congratulations, it’s a Boy!” they suddenly registered in his brain and he looked at Fliss who had tears in her eyes. His own eyes misted over and a huge grin spread across his face.

“Lissy, it’s a boy!”

She gave a laugh as his arms wrapped around her and he kissed the side of her head.

“Happy Sailor?” she asked.

“I can’t…wow!” he chuckled, sniffing slightly, unable to form any other words. He moved one of his arms and signalled for Mary to join them and she rushed forwards, her arms wrapping around his waist as he dropped his hand to her back, gently rubbing between her shoulder blades.

A boy. A little boy.

Although he truly would have been happy either way, as long as their baby was healthy, he’d secretly always hoped the colour would be blue. They had Mary already, and from a selfish point of view had wanted a boy to even the numbers out. Not to mention the fact he was already envisaging matching baseball caps, sneakers, sailing days, basketball, football…

He looked at Fliss who gave him a smile and his face split into an even wider grin and he leaned over to give her a kiss before his hand dropped to the side of her bump, gently skating the place where his son was growing.

***** Frank wanted to shout their news from the roof tops. But Fliss forbid him from telling anyone until they told the family first. As Evelyn would be here for the weekend they decided to have a BBQ on the Saturday evening, and share their news then. And Mary and Fliss came up with the perfect way to do it.

Evelyn arrived in town on the Friday afternoon and due to her new found ‘friendship’ (if you could call it that) with Fliss’ parents since that fateful thanksgiving in Boston, she was staying with them. Her first comment upon seeing them all was how much Fliss had bloomed since her last visit a few months ago. Fliss had grinned and commented that she felt like a hippo to which Evelyn had snorted and told her to stop being ridiculous. The 4 of them went for dinner that evening to the Italian in town that Mary liked and on the Saturday Bill dropped her at the stables to see Mary ride. Mary had now moved on from the cross poles to a foot high straight upright jump, and she was easily taking it all in her stride. Frank had long since given up trying to talk her out of it. She enjoyed it, and it was hard to deny she was pretty good at it too. Saturday afternoon they all went back to the apartment where Evelyn, Fliss and Mary whipped up some cupcake batter…something which floored Frank. He couldn’t remember his mother baking, ever. Once the cakes were cooked however, Evelyn was unceremoniously barred from the kitchen whilst Fliss and Mary put the final touches to their Gender Reveal plans. At one point Mary burst out of the kitchen telling Evelyn to look away, and as Frank looked up from where he and his mother had been glancing at a few realtor pages and properties in the local area, he could instantly see why. She had blue food colouring all over her face and hands.

Later that night Verity, Steve, Bill and Roberta joined them and after a few drinks Mary handed out the cupcakes.

“Now, you have to eat them at the same time.” she instructed “Because the colour in the middle will tell you if the baby is gonna be a boy or a girl.”

“Did you make these?” Steve looked at Fliss. She nodded.

“And no, there’s nothing special in them…” she told him and he smirked “Other than the buttercream.”

As everyone eagerly began to dig into their cakes, desperate to find out, Mary skipped over to where Frank and Fliss were stood at the side of the kitchen steps, standing in front Frank as his arm dropped looping around her chest, pulling her back towards him a little. “A boy?” Verity shrieked, the first to find her splodge of blue cream in the middle of her cake as she looked over at them all.

“Yeah!” Fliss smiled, Frank’s other arm tossed casually round her shoulder.

“God help ya’ll, a mini Frank!” Roberta quipped and he shot her a glare before the rest of the crowd of people erupted into cheers and laughter. There were a lot of hugs shared and then Mary stepped over to Bill and Steve, holding her hand out.

“Pay up, losers.”

“Yeah…Dad can you sub me?” Steve asked, “I left my wallet at home” “Course you did.” Bill grumbled as he reached into his pocket. Retrieving a twenty from his wallet he handed it to Mary.

“Erm…what are you doing?”  Frank asked, having watched the exchanged.

“Last week when you were at the wedding we were talking about it and I bet them it was a boy.” Mary shrugged “I had a hunch” “And now she has twenty bucks.” Bill grumbled as Fliss gave a loud laugh.

“No she doesn’t.” Frank put his hands on his hips “Give it back.”

“No way.” she pouted “I earned that.” “You’re 9.” Frank shot back “You know it’s illegal for 9 year olds to gamble, Mary.”

“What you gonna do Frank?” Fliss asked as Mary folded the money and sticking it in her pocket “Call the feds?”

Bill and Steve both sniggered as Frank looked at Fliss before he shook his head and turned back to Mary.

“How exactly were you gonna pay if you lost?” he folded his arms. “I was planning on winning it back by betting on the name.” she shrugged.

“Double or quits.” Steve nodded in agreement.

“Stop encouraging her.” Frank pointed at him.

“Relax…” Frank heard Evelyn chuckle a little and he turned to face her, where she was sat at the outside table with Verity and Roberta “You’re in dad mode already.” “I’ve been in dad mode for the last 8 and a half years.” he shot back before he felt his eyes widen slightly.

“I know…” his mother gave him a soft smile. “Believe me.”

Fliss hand tightened around his for a second and he looked down at her, giving her a quick peck.

“I’m gonna get another beer.” he said, suddenly needing the head space. “You want anything?” “No.” Fliss smiled at him as he walked off. 

Truth was he’d shocked himself a little. That was the first time he’d ever referred to his role with Mary as being a dad out loud to anyone but her or Fliss. Truth be told, he was a little worried about how she was going to react once Bean was born and how they were going to try to keep her feeling as included as they could, especially when he started talking and referring to him and Fliss as Mom and Dad, when Mary didn’t. He ran a hand over his face, opening the fridge. It was an unorthodox situation, but…well, he knew full well there were worse circumstances Mary could be in. 

“She wouldn’t mind you know.” a voice jerked him from his thoughts and Frank spun to face his mother

“Who?” he frowned. “Diane.” she reached past him for the bottle of wine in the fridge “Fliss told me that’s why you get so pissy about people referring to you as Mary’s father.” “I’m not pissy about it, I’m just not her father.”

“You are in every other way bar legally being labelled as so, Frank.” Evelyn poured herself a drink “And moreover, Diane’s memory isn’t going to suddenly fade away if you were.”

“What are you-“

She levelled him with a look and simply handed him the bottle back before she picked up her glass and headed off leaving him pondering her words. With a shake of his head, deciding that was a discussion for another day, he grabbed another bottle of beer and headed back outside.

“Hey Frank!” Roberta’s shout stopped him in his tracks as stood at the top of the steps and looked over at her. “You gonna cook anything on this BBQ or what? Been waiting so damned long my clothes are goin outta fashion.” “That’s assuming they were in fashion in the first place!” Mary grinned, skipping past Frank as he walked onto the lawn, tossing a ball for Fred as he scooted off after it, Thor following.

At that Steve snorted. Roberta looked at him

“Oh hark on the British boy in board shorts.”

Steve’s response was a cheeky wink “I have been reliably informed you like men in board shorts Roberta. Do I not meet your standards?” he gave a little twirl, his arms held out to his side, a grin on his face. “I’ve seen worse.” she mused, causing Steve and Bill to tip their heads back in almost identical roars of laugher. “You ever fancy yourself a sugar momma you know where to come lookin’ honey.”

“You know, if we’re discussing questionable clothing choices…” Fliss looked up, her eyes locking onto Frank’s before she glanced at Mary “I have something to say about someone’s shirts.”

Mary let out a lout hoot of laughter as did Roberta and Frank looked at Fliss as she grinned.

With a shake of his head and a soft snort of laughter as he looked around at his family, he headed to the BBQ.

**** Chapter 7

[getitinbusan]

Camping with Jungkook

This is my contribution to the Campfire writing challenge.

Soft Smut - 2125 words

He was straddling the picnic bench, his thick thighs spread open teasing your eyes. 

Standing with a few of the girlfriends you couldn't help but stare in awe. He was drinking and even though the firelight danced pretty shadows across his features you could tell he was flush from the alcohol. 

"You know you're getting together with him tonight right?" they all laughed. "Jin said it's happening even if we have to lock you two in the outhouse." 

"You guys are disgusting. I'd really prefer if that didn't happen….the outhouse, not the getting together part."

It was a well known fact that there was a mutual crush happening. It was also common knowledge that you were both idiots too afraid to act on it. 

Your best friend was dating Yoongi, she was the catalyst behind this epic disaster of a set up. Wanting you around more, wouldn't it be perfect if you hooked up with Jungkook? 

Admittedly, it would.

Sitting at the table noticing the direction of your gaze she called out, "Y/N, come drink with us." 

Subtlety was not her strong suit and you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you made your way over. 

Patting the weathered wood slats of the bench Jungkook offered you the seat beside him. 

Two red solo cups were slid in your general direction, he picked them both up and handed one to you. Watching as he sniffed the liquid, his nose scrunched up in displeasure. Fuck he was cute. 

"Ready?" he held the cup to his lips.

"As I'll ever be." 

He winced at the taste as you both simultaneously set the empty cups down. 

This was it, it had to be now! It was time for the opening you'd been practicing all week. 

"Do you like S'mores Jungkook?" 

His eyes lit up as he reached for the bag of marshmallows. "I like mine with double chocolate, want me to make you one?" 

The childlike wonder he exuded would be almost comical if it wasn't for the contradictory body it came from.

"Actually, I thought maybe we could try a more adult version?"

He was puzzled. 

"Hang on, I'll be right back."

Running into the cabin, items were tossed quickly out of your bag until you found what you were after. 

Triumphantly returning you held the bottle out to him like it was a fine wine. 

His eyebrows raised, "Marshmallow Vodka?" 

"And behind door number two," your other hand revealed, "Chocolate syrup!"

"I don't get it?" 

Yoongi's hardy laugh bounced around the campsite,  "No but you're definitely going to." 

Three heads turned in unison to glare at him. Outnumbered in his desire to tease Jungkook, he sighed, defeated. "Well then, why don't you just show us how to make S'mores with Vodka Y/N" 

Turning your attention directly to Jungkook you instructed him. "You're going to tilt your head back and I'm going to squeeze in the chocolate syrup." 

"Should I swallow it?" 

"That's what she said," Yoongi interjected. You heard your friend's playful punch land against his shoulder. "Ow, what? Come on, he's making it too easy." 

"As I was saying, Chocolate Syrup, and no, don't swallow…" you smiled, "that'll come later." 

Yoongi's jaw fell slack, "Yah sure, it's fine when she says it." 

Turning your attention back to teaching, Jungkook's ears were red at the innuendos you'd been exchanging. He was flustered and it was charming. Reaching out you gave his earlobe a little squeeze, "Shall we continue?" 

He nodded, "Head back, chocolate syrup, no swallowing, got it."

"I'm going to pour the marshmallow vodka on top of the syrup and then you can swallow and take a Graham Cracker chaser." 

The night progressed as the shots poured. The more you drank the closer you seemed to inch your bodies together.

"I think you need one more," Guk giggled. Tipping your chin back with his fingertips he was really close. "Ready? here it comes…"

You felt a splat hit your cheek followed by a string of his apologies. He was confused when you began laughing.

"It's okay Jungkook, it's just syrup."

He smiled relieved,  scooching closer to where you sat facing him. Using his index finger he wiped the chocolate drop off your skin and stuck it into his mouth.

"Did you get it all?"

"There might be a little more," he moved closer and softly attached his lips to your cheek, painfully close to your mouth. "I think you're good now." 

Somehow as the hours ticked away your legs had made their way over his. Face to face you  sat with shy smiles and embarrassed cheeks. He pulled you in closer placing a kiss on top of your head. "Is it okay to confess I really like you?"

You wove his tattooed fingers between yours, "I think now's a perfect time." 

His arms were wrapped loosely around you, your head on his chest. The sound of your friend's voices and crackling fire were quiet compared to his heartbeat.

"Did you feel that? I think it's starting to rain."

No sooner than the words left his lips you felt it too. Everyone took to their feet and ran in separate directions, drinks and fire were abandoned for shelter.

Standing up you weren't in a hurry to leave. "I'm staying in the cabin." You gestured to the wood structure. "But I really don't want tonight to be over." 

"Not to brag but I've got a pretty big tent." He kissed your hand and pulled you into his arms. "Or," he began rocking back and forth, "you could just dance with me in the rain." 

"Wow, and I didn't even have Jungkook being a romantic on my campfire BINGO card." 

He laughed and twirled you back to him while singing, "Do you love the rain? Does it make you dance When you're drunk with your friends at a party?"

"You're singing to me Guk?" You stopped dancing. "Is it okay to confess I really like you too?" 

The biggest smile appeared across his face, "I think now's a perfect time." 

Pushing the wet hair from your face he leaned in slowly to find your mouth. He was so soft, so delicate, his lips brushed yours as the rain fell harder and distant thunder rolled past. He set his head on yours and sighed, "You wanna run?" 

He struggled to unzip the flap, both of you crawling in laughing at how soaked you were. Falling on top of each other it felt like time had stopped.

It was a strange feeling, like driving in the rain and going under a bridge. Every sound stops but the second you come out the other side, all your sensations are amplified.

"They say when you meet the love of your life...time stops."

Is that what this was? A pause held between you until he gave in, his mouth meeting yours full force.

His kissing was pure and simple, uncomplicated perfection that could be used the same way to describe every detail of Jungkook.

He was a great kisser, his lips pressed just hard enough, they were just wet enough and his tongue was as well choreographed as his body.

His hand didn't stray from the tender hold it had on your face and as much as you wanted it on your body, you knew you had time. Your heart was pounding as fast as the droplets hitting the shell of the tent in an orchestrated rhythm of anticipation. 

He pulled away leaving you breathless. "We should get you out of these wet clothes before you catch a cold" He reached in his bag and handed you his T-shirt.

"You want me to put clothes on? That's a plot twist."

He pulled his wet sweater over his head, "we've been drinking, alot."

He grabbed a towel and ran it over his hair, "I'm planning on falling in love with you." He blushed at his own statement. "And I'd just prefer that in a few years our first time isn't a foggy memory." He kissed the back of your hand.

"You certainly have a way with words Guk."

Shamelessly pulling off your wet clothes he pretended to shield his eyes while blatantly leaving gaps between his fingers. "Ugh, you're playing dirty." 

"Using your logic you'll forget what you saw by morning so I'm not gonna worry about it."

Grabbing you playfully he pulled you back down and tucked you into his blankets. 

The one thing you hated about camping was going to bed freezing and waking up ridiculously hot.

The sun had risen with a vengeance and the navy exterior of the tent held the heat in like a sauna.

Making your way out from underneath Jungkook you pulled the covers back and peeled his shirt from your body. Redoing the messy bun on top of your head you felt a light fingertips touch starting at the top of your neck.

Slowly he traced down your spine stopping between the dimples at the base. A shiver ran over your skin.

"These are cute." He let his finger explore your backside.

You giggled at the featherlight tickle, "They're called dimples of Venus"  

You were still facing away but you could hear him shift. His breath hovered close on your back.

"It's a suitable name for your body," his lips met the indentation.

When he made his way back up to your shoulder you couldn't resist the urge to see his face a second longer.

Turning you found a smiling, sleepy disheveled boy and your heart swooped with affection. Your thumb smoothed over his dewy cheek as his almond eyes took in your bare form. 

"Can you just come back in here?" He whined and made grabby hands.

"Should I put my clothes back on first?"

He pulled the blanket over his face, "Don't tease me."

How were you already wrapped around his finger?

"Fine, let me in."

Staying hidden he lifted the edge enough for you to wiggle in.

"This isn't a very good fort."

"That's not fair, I've got limited resources. I'm gonna make you a kick ass fort." He pressed his lips onto your neck. "For our next date we'll have a picnic and watch movies in it. We are counting this as the first date right?"

His hands were on your waist and his bare skin was pressed against yours. 

"We could even count it as a second, we did sleep together. Jungkook? Can you kiss me now?" 

His large hands moved down your body while his lips worked their magic against yours.

You could hear everyone slowly starting the day. Jin's laughter and the mention of your names infiltrated your moment making Jungkook stop to check with you.

"I don't care about them Guk, keep going." 

The heat didn't matter, the small space didn't matter, your friends on the other side of the thin nylon didn't matter. 

All that did matter was the way he looked at you and asked if you were okay before he pushed himself inside you. If there was a sight more beautiful than Jungkook laying over you in ecstacy you were completely unaware of it. 

Rolling his hips into you skillfully his length hit all the right spots. It was hard holding in your moans, god you wanted to be able to just cry out as he made your toes curl.

Biting your lip you tried not to tip everyone off to what was happening mere feet away from where they were preparing their coffee and breakfast over the camp stove. 

You wanted to tell him, you'd waited so long for this. You spoke the breathy whisper into his neck, "I hate being quiet Guk, you feel so good I want to scream your name."  

Your words did him in, with a loud moan and a face squinted in pleasure he spilled into the condom. 

Exiting the tent, of course your friends had to make a scene. The picnic tables had been rearranged to face Jungkook's tent and they all sat smiling in the direction of your exit. 

"Really, you couldn't just let us have this?" You hid under his arm as he confronted them.

Jin of course was the loudest, "Can you blame us? We never get front row."

Jungkook pulled you back towards the tent. "Well since you already know what we're doing, this time we'll put on a better show."

JK: Date 2 tonight! I hope you're ready this fort is gonna blow your mind!

This is fic belongs in the Golden Golden Closet Universe. Continue their story....

[pricklerick]

Thanksgiving used to be Summer’s favorite holiday.

It meant spending two whole nights with Jerry’s parents and waking up early and going for a long walk in the snow, then peeling off wet clothes just in time to watch the dog show on TV while grandma baked pumpkin pie.

Things are different now, with Grandpa Rick and Morty gone. Dad, of course, had instantly accused Grandpa Rick of kidnapping Morty. Mom had screamed that her father would never do something like that to his family, to her (even know Summer knows that deep down, her mother was very afraid that Grandpa Rick had done exactly that).

The divorce was so ugly that Summer transferred to a school in Texas, losing a bunch of her class credits just to get away from them.

Texas is good. Well, it’s hot, and Summer’s skin hates that, but the people are nice and her classes are easy, and if she stays within a certain neighborhood, she can find whatever she wants without having to edge over to the east side of town.

She even has a finance. David plays football and his parents own a ranch in the Texas hill country. They have a little money and they like to flaunt it.

Years ago, before Grandpa Rick burst into Summer’s life and started taking her little brother on adventures, before portal guns and real guns and near death experiences became Summer’s adrenaline fix, she would have been thrilled to nail down a guy like David. David is kind, and sweet, and very attractive. He’s got a good future and he’s looking at being scouted as quarterback next year.

Summer’s ring is a gaudy thing, at least two carats, and it sits heavy on her finger. She only wears it when she knows she’ll be with David or the in-laws. It’s an heirloom ring, passed down through generations, and Summer hates it. She’s forever fiddling with it, or pulling her sleeve down to cover it, or hiding it in her back pocket when she’s out with girl friends.

She doesn’t go out as often anymore - they’re seniors now, and Summer has been told that the partying needs to slow down now that David’s future is getting serious. Summer is fine with this. There’s nothing on this earth that matches a party in space, anyway.

Sometimes, Summer looks up at the night sky and wonders how she could get her hands on some of Grandpa Rick’s K-Lax. That was good stuff.

It’s easy to justify spending Thanksgiving away from home because of travel expenses and final exams. Summer’s done it three years in a row now. She doesn't often think of Beth, or of Jerry, either. She’s deeply entrenched in a new family now, invested in a future mother-in -law who insists on being called “Mama June” or even just “Mama,” and an emotionally detached father-in-law who feels that talking to a woman who is not his wife is beneath him.

Summer is spending more and more time outside, looking at the stars, wishing, remembering.

But this week, the week before break, at 2:43 am, Summer’s phone screen lights up with a call from “Beth Smith.” And when Summer, groggy and maybe already a little hungover, answers with a hoarse, “Hello?” Beth is slobbering drunk.

“Honey, please,” Beth cries, slurring her words and hitching her breaths. “I need to see my baby, Summer. It’s Thanksgiving, next week. Summer, remember? Remember Thanksgiving? You... You’re all I have left.”

Yeesh.

Summer does not want to spend her break dealing with Beth and all of her sloppy-alcoholic coping mechanisms.That’s why she’d run away to Texas to begin with.  

Summer hasn’t been home since the night they lost Morty.

She doesn’t want to go back. So she shushes Beth over the phone, lets her cry it out and then they start it all again, the crying and the shushing, over and over until Beth is nearly asleep, slurring half-formed words into her pillow.

Summer disconnects the call and drops her face into her hands. “Fuck.”

“What, babe?”

Ugh, she’d forgotten that David had stayed over.

David wraps his greedy arms around Summer’s waist and pulls her in, his naked boner brushing hot against her thigh. It makes her sick. She pulls away from him, leaning against the headboard and fumbling for the lamp. Beside her, David blinks owlishly in the light.

“I’m going home for Thanksgiving,” she tells him. No sense dragging it out.

“Oh,” says David, reaching up to stroke Summer’s cheeks and twine his fingers in her hair. Summer tenses at this, but David is oblivious, still carding his big stupid paws though Summer’s shower-damp braids and looking at her with an intensity that is frankly... terrifying. “What about coming back to Pilot Point, babe?,” he reminds her and he leans forward in an effort to pepper Summer’s face with kisses. Summer dodges them, making a show of reaching for her phone, so David grabs her hand instead. “Remember talking about seeing my folks?”

Summer is suddenly disgusted with herself. She ran away from home straight into the arms of this Mama’s boy who can hardly keep it up for the four and a half minutes it takes him to blow his load in missionary position.

Summer is a Sanchez.

She’s wondered for a while, especially after that stunt Dad pulled during the divorce, if she should have her name legally changed. She shares a quarter of Grandpa Rick’s genes, and by her rights as a Sanchez, the universe owes her good sex.

At least.

“Sorry, David,” she says and she deftly rolls away from him to stand at the edge of their shared bed. “Plans have changed. Mom needs me.”

Now David is sitting up, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy, but there’s a hardness in his eyes that Summer doesn’t like. Oh well. In for a penny, she guesses.

“Listen, dude, this isn’t working anyway. I’m not the hot little wifey on your arm that your parents are hoping you’ll find here.” She snorts, pacing around the bedroom, ticking off points on her fingers. “I don’t even want kids. I’m Summer Sanchez. I’ve been to space. I’ve seen the stars and constellations and comets and asteroids.  I’ve met people you wouldn’t believe. I’ve met planets you wouldn’t believe - sentient planets, David! I’ve hit alien drugs that would blow your tiny mind.” She’s trembling now, all keyed up, but it feels good. There’s something cathartic about acknowledging the truth after so long.

She decides that Summer Sanchez has a nice ring to it.

She lifts her hands and twirls, landing in a heap at the foot of the bed. “The best sex I ever had was with a flying lamb on Oourivian Prime, for Chrissakes.”  Summer turns, flushed and grinning, and pokes David in the chest. “You better believe I’m not settling down on a silly horse farm in Pilot Point!”

David is looking at her wide-eyed and slack-jawed, like he’s seeing her for the first time. The thought makes Summer smile a real smile. In a fit of giddiness, she pecks him playfully on the lips, sliding his ridiculous ring from her finger and curling it into his palm. “Good luck with that, babe!”

Feeling freer than she has in years, she flutters around the room, grabbing a few outfits that she likes and stuffing them haphazardly into an old gym bag. The whole thing takes less than a minute.

“Oh, and don’t take it too hard,” she calls over her shoulder, “I don’t think we’re really all that sexually compatible, anyway.” She waves a hand toward the flagging erection that is peaking from David’s boxers. “I’m more of a tentacle kind of girl, if you know what I mean.”

And so, during the fall semester of her senior year, Summer Sanchez dropped out of Texas A&M’s pre-law program and flew home to see her mother for the first time in three years.

                                                            xxx

Morty enters through the front door because he’s not a stranger. He’s not exactly sure how long it’s been on Earth - time moves differently on Morty’s  waste planet - but somehow, he hadn’t expected it to be night. It makes him feel like a burglar, walking up the concrete steps to the front door with his big black cowl pulled low over his face, a deeply ingrained habit.

“You’ve only got one face, Mo-AAAUURRGG-rty. Don’t get caught with it.”

The key code to unlock the door is the same. Morty sighs, surprised at the stress that leaves his body with this revelation. He hadn’t wanted to break into his parents’ home. Now, he doesn’t have to.

He whirls around, taking one last look at the ship he’d parked on the garage pad. He’d avoided the streetlamps best he could, managed to land very quietly (thanks for that rad auto-landing feature, Rick)partially concealed behind some overgrown azaleas.

Morty sighs, tense again. Modifications aside, that is obviously Rick’s ship to anybody who knows it. Morty hopes he can get what he needs and get out. It would be wrong to disturb whatever peace his family had managed to regain in the years he’s been gone.

The front door is squeakier than Morty remembers. He slips into the kitchen as quickly, quiet as a ghost, and pulls the door slowly to behind him.

His first thought is that he’d forgotten that home has a smell. Carpet and lemon pledge and laundry detergent, and the lingering scent of last night’s dinner all converge on his senses like a physical blow to the gut.

How could Morty have forgotten that smell?

He glances around, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the street lamps. A few scattered dishes lie in the sink, an empty wine bottle sits abandoned on the counter. He’s standing on the same ugly linoleum floor with its worn green leaf patten, so subtle you’d miss it if you didn’t know where to look.

Time hasn’t touched the kitchen.

Morty stands in his childhood home and takes three deep breaths. He thought he’d been prepared for anything and everything - all the changes. He’d been ready.

But the house is exactly the same.

It’s Morty who has changed.

Morty’s breathing speeds, and he shakes off the shudder that tempts to run down his spine. If the kitchen affected him this deeply…. He swings his gaze to the garage door that beckons ominously to his left.

Don’t think about it, he reminds himself sharply. The plan is simple - break into the garage, grab the stuff, and get out. There will be time for memories later.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about… him.

Morty shakes himself, setting his shoulders and pulling the heavy door handle toward him as he turns it to minimize noise. Unlike the kitchen, the swing of the garage door is silent.

The darkness deepens as Morty steps down the single step - there are no windows to let in the glow of the street lights here. The air is hotter and heavy, almost stale, and as Morty turns his back to the room to slowly pull the door to, he gets the strangest feeling. It’s almost the uneasiness he feels when he walks to the grave of the other Morty who is buried in the backyard.  It raises the hairs on his neck, and Morty wonders if anybody in the family have used this garage since...

Don’t think about it.

Door secured and locked, Morty lets his fingers drift along the walls, his opposite hand outstretched in search of obstacles. But it seems that the garage is exactly as Morty remembers, and he navigates the dark with increasing confidence. He snags the dangling string - right where it should be - and tugs. The bare bulb that hangs over Rick’s work table pops and hums as it slowly blinks on, and Morty bites back a smile at the irony of the inter-galactic space genius Rick Sanchez discovering his greatest scientific breakthroughs beneath this dirty fluorescent bulb.

A thousand memories assault him at once.

“A hair, Morty, I need one of your hairs!”

“Bring me the thing. The thing. The thing. The -- the -- it's got, like, buttons on it and lights on it. It -- it -- it beeps.”

“You little son of a bitch! Y-y- are you a simulation?! Huh?! Are you a simulation??”

“I’m the Rickest Rick there is. And you know, it would - UUUURRGGHH-  go without saying that the Rickest Rick… would have the Mortyest Morty.”

“Be better than I am.”

“Don’t… Don’t think about it.”

Morty sucks in a deep breath and grits his teeth hard. Time to get busy.

                                                           xxx

Three hours later, and Morty is almost done with the garage.

He glances at the digital clock that reads 3:33. By the time he gets this stuff loaded, it’ll be nearly daylight.

Damn, he’d really hoped to get everything in one trip. Fuel for a trip to Earth from his encampment is not cheap, and this was a long trip.

He picks up the first item, a strangely lightweight box labeled “Time Travel Stuff” and heads toward the kitchen. He dares not raise the garage door - that would make too much noise.

He opens the door and comes nose to nose with Summer.

“What. The fuck. Are you doing in my grandpa’s garage?” she says slowly, advancing on him with each word.

Morty’s first thought as he stumbles backward is, “Where did my sister get a pistol?”

He trips over the step in an effort to give her some space, sending the box flying. He finds himself sprawled on the floor, space bits everywhere, and his ass is killing him. “Ah, geez,” he breathes, repositioning slowly to take the pressure off of his coccyx. It’s probably broken.

Summer’s hands are trembling, and she lowers the gun. “Morty?”

Oh. His hood had fallen when he did. Morty looks up at her, a little sheepishly, suddenly very aware of the beard he’d decided to grow a while back. “Umm, yeah,” he says lamely, still wincing at the pain. “Hi!”

There’s a funny expression on Summer’s face, like she’s thinking a billion things at once, and her eyes are wider than Morty’s ever seen them. But then her gaze hardens. “And which one are you?” she demands, looking as if she’d like to bring the gun back to his head.

Morty raises his eyebrows. He wouldn’t have expected Summer to immediately question his dimension. Clever of her. He quirks a little smile. “C-137,” he answers her, trying and mostly failing to get back on his feet. “I’m your Morty. Well, your second Morty.”

Quick as a blink, Summer slings the gun away. It lands with a clatter and she launches herself at Morty, wrapping him in a rib-creaking hug. Morty’s body tenses - hugs are definitely not his typical physical interaction. But Summer is burying her face into the crook of his neck, and Morty is surprised to find how easily it fits there. When he’d left, they’d barely stood eye to eye.

Morty is stunned. Summer has never hugged him like this. Feebly, he reaches up and lays his hand across her back. She’s shuddering. So Morty pulls her closer, shifting his weight so that his knees are beneath him, and gathers her in. She allows this, never looking up at him, and slowly, Morty relaxes into it.

“Summer?” he asks softly after what feels like a long time. He’s never been good with his sister’s emotions.

Summer cranes her neck sideways to look at him, and she’s a mess of mascara and tears, red-faced and absolutely shaking with laughter. Morty huffs with her, still utterly bewildered by girls. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing’s funny, Morty,” she tells him, but she’s still laughing, so Morty laughs with her. “You’ve been gone for three years. You’ve been legally declared dead, you asshole!” She swats him on the shoulder, but he manages to doge the blow, which only makes her face fall. She comes closer, looking more tearful now than before, and settles beside him. “We had a fucking funeral for you, you complete sack of dicks!”

Morty doesn’t know what to say, so he grabs Summer’s hand and squeezes. “Sorry.”

And he is.

Summer rolls her eyes and snorts, but there’s something softer at the edge of her lips, and she lays her head on Morty’s shoulder and sighs. Morty assumes means he’s forgiven, at least on some level.

They only sit like that for a minute or so before Morty starts to fidget. His ass is absolutely killing him, and time’s a-ticking. He needs to get out of here soon. Summer seems to read the tension in his body, because she stands abruptly and offers her hand, pulling him to his feet with an exaggerated groan.

“Thanks,” he quirks her a little half-smile, the only thing he has to offer her.

But Summer isn’t looking at him. Her eyes are tracking around the garage, noting the boxes that have been drug out and packed up. Something tightens in her face, and when she speaks, it’s in that no-nonsense tone that always drove him up the wall when they were kids.

“What happened, Morty?” Summer finishes her sweep of the garage and pins her gaze on him.

Morty nearly stumbles back at the intensity of it.

“What happened to you? Where is Grandpa Rick?”

Authors Notes:

Based on Vapor Morty, who was originally developed in this hot mess of a text post. Rick’s been kidnapped and Morty has been scouring the universe trying to find him and doing a lot of learning and growing along the way.

Kidnapped Rick saw Morty “die” just before he was kidnapped and went crazy over it. Morty obviously wasn’t dead, was trying to get to Rick to say hey, I’m all good and these guys are after you so let’s get out of here.

Morty literally lives in an intergalactic dumpster and makes a living renovating and selling weapons and machinery. He found his way home to earth because he wants to find any of Rick’s stuff that he could possibly use to track him down, or maybe even build his own portal gun.

Basically, Morty is a little badass now.

I might write more of these little drabbles if people are interested in them. Also, just really hoping I got Summer’s voice right here. Feedback is always, always appreciated, friends! My messages and ask box are open!

[spacehologramcollection]

The Kombat Kast and Music.

A nice fluffy post. As it appears all I’ve been writing recently is smut and Fujin smut at that. One fine man there. A finely aged wine if ever there was one. I’m not even sure what to call this. I guess it’s like The Kombat Kast and your song. Do people still have songs? (Like this is such a 00’s thing: ‘OH MY GOD THIS IS OUR SONG SHUT UP LET ME RECORD IT ON MY PHONE!’)

I don’t own any of the songs.  Didn’t link anything in because I’m sure Tumblr wouldn’t be happy with that. Under the cut for slight NSFW and because it’s a looooong post. I’m going to do a part 2. This was so long.

Enjoy!

Warnings: Slight NSFW below the cut so 18+, little bit of angst, lots of fluff. Mentions of Kano, slight shitpost, it’s at the bottom, because the tea has been spilled. 

Songs don’t belong to me. 

·        Kabal. Song: Morocco

Artist: Moon Taxi. Lyric: Running in circles I was losing my mind, when you found me and you led me to the water just in time, Reasoning: Okay. So, this may just be a self-insert fantasy of mine. But I can imagine this song playing in the background after you get caught in a thunderstorm, you’re drying his hair off and you’re cuddled up in your dimly light apartment. I also think the lyrics speak to your relationship. The verse is talking about been lost and someone finding someone. Post-burn Kabal is very lost, unsure, confused. So, I feel the lyrics really speak to your relationship. Because he literally was running in circles, he had lost his mind little, and you kind of helped. When you tell him ‘This is our song’ he fucking loves it instantly. He doesn’t give a shit if it’s not his style of music. If you say it’s your song, then it’s your fucking song. Will. Put. It. On. In. the. Car. Stryker is done listening to it. When he hearts it, he thinks of you, which always bring about a goofy smile on his face. Pre-burn: I also feel this applies to pre-burn, he was running around with the Black Dragon, slightly lost in life, and like (AU where his shit storm story in 11 doesn’t happen) you pulled him out of that shit just in time.

·        Raiden. Electric Love. Song: Electric Love. Artist: Børns Lyric: And every night my mind is running around her. Then it's getting louder and louder and louder… Baby you're like lightning in a bottle, I can't let you go now that I got I, All I need is to be struck by your electric love, Baby, your electric love Reasoning: Raiden gets two. Lucky bastard. This song has two lyrics that speak to your relationship with the God of Lightening. He’s literally like lightening in a bottle, well in a man, and you got hit by his electric love. It’s an obvious choice. The whole song could be attributed to his feelings towards you, or your feelings towards him. You’re in love with the thunder and lightening itself. It’s a very sweet song. One that you’ve caught him humming along to. Once you tell him, ‘This is our song’ he loves it. Such a cute fucking song for the both of you.

·        Dark!Raiden. Song: Electric Feel. Artist: MGMT. Lyric: Baby girl, Turn me on with your electric feel… You can feel it in your mind Oh you can do it all the time, plug it in, change the world Reasoning: Need I say more? Probably another obvious choice for yours and Raiden’s song. This one has less of a romantic feel, the beat really gives me power/sex vibes when associated with him. So, it suits Dark!Raiden more. He’s more dominant and more in control. He’s also my likely to use his powers to get you going, if you’re into that sort of thing. You’ve probably fucked to this song too. When you tell him it’s your song, he becomes obsessed with it. And whenever he comes on, he’s reminded of that first sinful time he heard it. Your body is electric to him and he loves it.

·        Fujin. Song: Rather Be,

Artist: Clean Bandit. Lyric: We're a thousand miles from comfort, we have travelled land and sea But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be I would wait forever, exalted in the scene As long as I am with you, my heart continues to beat Reasoning: Okay guilty pleasure song, but it fucking bops. This sums up your relationship because your relationship was not only a shot in the dark, because you’re falling in love with a God. You’re unsure if it’s going to work. It’s more than just a long-distance relationship, you’re falling in love with someone who could be in a different realm to you. Literally a thousand miles from you. When he returns, he finds great comfort with just hanging out with you, taking walks, and enjoying your company. There really is no place he’d rather be or anyone he’d rather be with. You wait for him, completely taken back when he arrives. As long as you’re with each other, you’re content and at ease. He misses you a lot but knowing he’s returning to you makes it easier. When you tell him about the mortal custom of having a song with the one you love, he wants to know what yours is with him. You two love this song. He really vibes with it. You have gotten a little drunk and sung/butchered the song together. Good times.

·        Smoke. Song: Ophelia. Artist: The Lumineers. Lyric: Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind girl like a drug…Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind girl since the flood, Oh, Ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls in love. Reasoning: I totally changed my mind with this one, I originally thought it suited Kabal. But it fits way better with Smoke and your relationship. Smoke is a giant Hipster, and no one can argue with me on this one. So, he loves the band. He’s the one that comes up with the idea for this been your song. He’s unsure of himself. He’s not fully human anymore, love isn’t his forte either. So, it literally is heaven help a fool who falls in love. When you first listen to it, you’re unsure. But when he explains that your constantly on his mind, and he constantly thinks about you. You kind of get the meaning more. That, and it’s a very catchy song. He’ll also, on occasion, sing it to you whilst he twirls you around your apartment.

·        Cassie Cage: Song: Jenny. Artist: The Studio Killers. Lyric: I wanna ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead, I don't know how to say this 'Cause you're really my dearest friend. Reasoning: The reasoning for this song been your song with Cassie, is mainly due to the fact that you’d always listen to it in her car. No matter the trip. She and you would sing it and vibe to it. You always did wonder with the lyrics if it had another meaning, you hoped it did. So, it comes to no surprise when you share your first kiss to this song. You’re both driving home from the movies, and she’s about to drop you off, the songs just ended and you’re both giggling and the adrenaline is high. Queue a soft kiss between the two of you. Cassie does admit she hopes the song kinda gave it away, she was being very forward, but wanted to like you give you time to see if you felt the same. Que it becoming your song, whenever it comes on in the club, you’re ready to get up and dance. Jacqui is requesting it so she can watch you two groove!

·        Jacqui Briggs. Song: What We Live For. Artist: American Authors. Lyric: We look up at the stars, a perfect night to dream with you Got nineties retro on the radio, our favourite tune I put the pedal to the metal just to laugh with you It's interstellar when it's just us two Reasoning:

This is such a cute song. The two of you live and love 90’s songs and retro music. You both love cute dates involving star gazing, going for drives and your dates are always filled with laughter. It’s your jam. You also love road trips, planning them, talking about them and obviously going on them. Jacqui literally also has the best music taste. It came on your first road trip as a couple. You both kind of looked at each other, your mouths sort of mouthing the lyrics, not wanting to admit it your guilty pleasure song. When you both catch each other singing it, you both smile, and then you turn your solo mumbling act; into the best operatic duet the car has ever seen! Your relationship is also interstellar. You both live life to the maximum and you’re living life to the full. When you ask what your song should be, you both agree on this one instantly. You trust each other both so much, as long as you’re together, you’re prepared for anything including the great unknown.

·        Sub Zero (Kuai Liang):

Song: Almost (Sweet Music) Artist: Hozier. Lyric: I wouldn't know where to start, "Sweet Music" playing "In the Dark", Be still "My Foolish Heart," Don't ruin this on me. Reasoning: A pretty cute reasoning. Why this is considered your song. You chose it because of how he often referred to love as foolish prior to your relationship. That, and when you had your first romantic moment, he did utter the phrase ‘Be still my foolish heart’ and it did make you giggle in the moment. It’s such a Kuai way of saying ‘What the fuck is going on?’ he’s basically a window error noise when it comes to romance. When you tell him this is your song, he’s confused and wants to know what you mean. Once you tell him, he’s kind of into it. It’s a happy sounding song, with a nice beat, and he kind of looks at you when listening to it. If it was to come on shuffle and you were in private, he would remark on it. Smoke once played it and he ended up blushing a little too much. Don’t let Bi-Han know, he’ll never hear the end of it.

·        Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi.)

Song: Would that I

Artist: Hozier.

Lyric: The whole song. Just the whole song. But specific lyrics: With the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet… I fell in love with the fire long ago … So in awe there I stood As you licked off the grain Though I've handled the wood I still worship the flame As long as amber of ember glows All the wood that I'd loved is long ago… Oh, let it blaze alright (ooh) Oh, but you're good to me

Reasoning: This whole song screams what a relationship with Hanzo would be like. And it’s just not because of the fire theme either. His heart has been dormant for a while, but when he sees you, it literally rose up and got life back to it. It speaks to your relationship in terms of you too, you’d fallen in love with him a long time ago and had fallen in love with the fire a long time ago too. He’s always in awe of you and you’re always good with him. Your patience is never ending, and he burns bright in your life. You’re falling in love with fire, the warmth, the crackle and familiarity when you love him. When you tell him, this is your song and you’re both listening to it. You swear you see the smallest smile. He pretends like it’s not a big deal. Music is not his jam, not modern music anywhere, but he finds the lyrics soothing and accurate with your relationship. Cuddling with this in the background too.

·        Erron Black.

Song: Home. Artist: Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. Lyric: Girl, I've never loved one like you

Ah, home, let me come home Home is wherever I'm with you Ah, home, let me come home Home is wherever I'm with you Reasoning: So, it’s not a proper country song. But the lyrics have meaning, and it’s kind of got a folk/country vibe to it. This song fits your relationship, just because the lyrics suit his kind of way speaking. It reminds you of him when you listen to it. Erron hasn’t had a fixed home so to speak of in a while. He’s a drifter, has been for a long time. Until he came to Outworld, he hasn’t really had  fixed location. Nothing to come back to. It’s a lifestyle he’s grown accustomed to and used to. If you’re going to be with him, it’s kind of a life you’ll have to either grow used to too or be prepared to wait for him. Either option you choose, this song fits that relationship. Either his feelings towards coming home to you, or you travelling with him and home being wherever you are as long as you’re with him. When you admit this is the song you’ve got in mind for the two of you. He kind of furrows his brow. He listens to it and he can vibe with it. It’s got a certain country style jam to it; he loves the whistling and he definitely can do the whistle part perfectly. He’s also started affectionately referring to you as ‘the apple of his eye’. You two also have a bit too much whisky and end up singing this. Confusing the fuck out of Kotal and Jade, who are trying to figure out which realm this song has come from.

·        Bi-Han.

Song: I think We’re Alone Now. Artist: Tiffany. Lyric:

Look at the way we gotta hide what we're doin' 'Cause what would they say If they ever knew Reasoning:

Ever since watching the Umbrella Academy, I can imagine Bi-Han, Smoke and Kuai just dancing TERRIBLY to this song. But I digress. This song started as your song as joke. He caught you singing it, he thought it was a jam. Queue you both getting a little tipsy at the Lin Kuei temple and fucking belting the fuck out of the song. You’re both hammered, Smoke isn’t sure how to react, Kuai is dying on the inside. You’re having a great time. You drunkenly both agree this is your song. Purely because, you constantly have to hide what you’re doing, because what would Kuai and the Clan say? Frost couldn’t give a fuck. She just wants to be left out of this. You have had to run hand in hand outside, because he really wanted to fuck you, but they had a full temple. So that wasn’t happening. And in his absolute adrenaline fuelled state, he may have started singing it. He’s not sure if it was out of nerves or if he wanted to make light of the situation .

·        Sareena. Song: Trust. Artist: Martha Bean. Lyric: Don't let history haunt you, just let the mystery guide you I'm telling you now, there's a way (Close your eyes and let me guide you Take you to a place where love can find you) You gotta liberate Find your freedom… Reasoning: So this song is more geared towards personifying Sareena. It’s a song that makes you think about her. She has a pretty shitty backstory and she’s also a fair bit of mystery around her. She’s haunted slightly by her past, has regrets, and in the end found her freedom. She just needs some love guys. That’s all she needs. Love literally helped her find her way and freedom. It’s such a powerful emotion. When you tell her, this song reminds you of her, she doesn’t know how to react. She’s not exactly clued up on pop culture, so you play it to her. She loves it. She suggests it represents both of you. You both heal and guide each other, when you’re together it’s a place of love, and a place you both found together. Who would have thought it?

·        Kano.

Song: Lonely Together. Artist: Rita Ora featuring Avicii. Lyric:

Oh Lord, here we go

I might hate myself tomorrow but I'm on my way tonight At the bottom of the bottle, you're the poison in the wine And I know I can't change you and I, I won't change Let's be lonely together

A little less lonely together Reasoning: Okay. This was going to be a major shitpost. But I thought I’d use this to let people know why I don’t think Kano is like ‘marriage material’ on a serious note. At the bottom so you can skip. The lyrics sum up the relationship pretty well. Kano isn’t the type of guy to actually give us a fuck. You can’t change him, and you never will change him. But at the time you can both feel like you have someone, I guess. I was going to just put ‘fucked with an anchor’ because he can actually fuck himself with an anchor.

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Thirteen

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

(Fluff and smut in this one. Would love to know how you are still liking the story!)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve

Masterpost

Over the next couple of weeks, you and Harry took turns staying over at each other’s places more often. You both agreed it was easier for him to stay over on school nights because you needed more things to get ready for work in the morning. So you would stay at his place more on the weekends. You were tired most mornings with him there, but it was a good tired. Your mood at work was overwhelmingly positive, and many people noticed. You couldn’t help it, essentially being given an orgasm every other night of the week did wonders for you. Between the way he would rub you, or go down on you, you were perfectly content with where things were with Harry. He was happy to be given head or a hand job as well.

Harry desperately wanted to be able to touch more of you, to feel more of you, but he knew he would get there with you eventually, and there was really no rush. The awful run in with Jake was slowly slipping from your memory. You truly were feeling like your old self.

Wednesday morning, Niall popped into your office. You were standing at your desk, editing away at a clip a client had sent in. You see Niall and take your headphones out.

“Hey.” He says with a smile.

“Sup?” You’re clearly busy, but don’t want to be rude.

“Are you doin’ anything for Halloween?” Halloween was next weekend, and you hadn’t thought twice about it. You used to love Halloween when you were in college, but not it was less fun when you didn’t have a full weekend of dressing up and binge drinking.

“I don’t think so, why?”

“I’m gonna have a party at my place, just decided last night.”

“Oh fun! Your place really is perfect for a party.”

“I’d like to do some type of costume contest.”

“Hmm, like a couple’s costume contest?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Not necessarily, I just think having a contest of some kind will get more people to want to dress up.”

“Definitely, this is gonna be so much fun! I’ll have to think of some costume ideas.”

“You and Harry should be Tarzan and Jane.” He starts laughing.

“He would never go for that, but something tells me he’ll be open to some interesting ideas.”

That night when you get home from work, you walk into the delicious smell of a home cooked dinner. Harry has his apron on, and is frying up some tofu and veggies. You walk over to him, and wrap your arms around him.

“Dinner’s almost ready love.”

“Wednesday’s are my favorite. Rest day from the gym, you get off work early, and you cook for me.” You kiss him on the cheek, and hang up your jacket. “What are we having?” You ask, sitting at the table.

“Garlic and ginger tofu stirfry.” He says placing a plate in front of you.

“Oh yum! Thank you sweetie.”

“Don’t mention it.” He smiles at you. You both dig in and you can’t help the moan that comes from your mouth. “Good, huh?” He chuckles.

“Mm, very good. God, you are such a good cook.”

“So are you.”

“But you’re better. So...”

“So...”

“Niall told me he’s having a Halloween party next weekend.”

“Yeah, he texted me last night. What should we go as?”

“Yay, so you’re into it?”

“Of course, I love Halloween parties. It’s fun to take pictures of people dressed in what they wish they could wear all the time.”

“Good point. Any ideas for costumes? I want to be creative, but it’s kind of last minute so I don’t know how much time we’ll have to make something.”

“Hmmm, what about like eighties punk rockers. We could wear leather pants and black eyeliner.”

“Are you going to wear a wig?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because eighties rockers had long hair.”

“Not all of ‘em. I won’t wear a wig, but I’d wear everything else.”

“You just want to see my butt in a tight pair of pants.”

“Not true! Although, you would look incredibly sexy.” You swat a hand at him while you shovel more food into your mouth.

“Oh! What if you were like Charlie Brown and I was Peppermint Patty?”

“Isn’t she a lesbian? Wouldn’t really work for a couple’s costume.” He laughs.

“Are we really going to discuss whether or not a comic strip character is a lesbian? And who cares if she is, they’re still good friends, it would be cute.”

“You could be snoopy?”

“How could I possibly dress up as snoopy?” Harry starts to blush.

“Well, you could wear like a white dress, and paint your nose black. You could buy the dog ears, and um, a collar.” He looks down at his food.

“You want me to wear a dog collar?”

“It would be part of the costume.”

“I do have a black choker I could wear…does he wear a black collar or a red collar?”

“I can’t remember, we can look it up.”

“I think I have one in both colors. You know what, this could work, and I think I have a white jumpsuit I could wear. I could wear my white heels, the choker, and you’re right just paint a nose on and buy the ears. You must have black shorts, we could buy a yellow polo and paint a black zig zag on it.”

“This’ll be fun.” Harry loves when you say the word we. It was a word he used to be scared of, but it sounds so good coming from your lips.

That weekend you two go to WalMart to pick out the extra components of your costumes. You buy some black fabric paint, and slip a piece of cardboard inside the shirt. Harry lays down some newspaper for you on his kitchen floor, and watches you intently while you paint the zig zag on the front and back of the yellow shirt.

“Okay, now don’t touch this, and just let it dry, I don’t want it getting smudged.” You hand it to him, and he places it on his desk to lean against the wall.

“Do you like to paint?”

“I do, actually. My Nannie used to paint when she was younger, I actually have some of her art hanging in my apartment.”

“Maybe we could go to one of those like, wine and paint nights at a bar sometime.”

“You’d be into something like that?”

“Sure, Niall and I have actually done it together a couple of times, it’s pretty relaxing.” You burst out laughing.

“You two have the weirdest friendship.” You say wiping tears from his eyes.

“Oi, what’s the difference between two men having a boys night and two girls having a girls night?”

“I suppose not much, it’s just funny to picture you both getting wine drunk and painting. But from your original point, I think it would be a lot of fun if we did that sometime.”

//

You had your period this week, so you couldn’t wait for Halloween to roll around because you knew you’d be done by then. You took out your white jumpsuit. It was cute, low cut with spaghetti straps. You bought it because it had pockets and because it was boot cut. The ones that flared out too much made your legs look weird. You slipped it on, and twirled in your mirror. It really made your butt look great. You left your hair down and straight, and stuck your dog ears on. Then you took out your black choker and your red choker, still not being able to decide which one would make more sense. You didn’t want to look like Brian Griffin, so you went with the black choker. You paint a black nose onto yourself. You slipped your white pumps on, and waited for Harry.

Harry strolled into your place around eight-thirty. He had a pair of black converse on, paired with black shorts, and the yellow shirt you had made for him. His jaw nearly hits the floor when he sees you.

“I didn’t know snoopy could be so sexy.” He says walking over to you. “Is, um, aunt flow still in town?”

“No, she left yesterday.” You giggle. “I didn’t know you owned sneakers like that.”

“I had to really dig them out of my closet. I tried to make the outfit work with my boots, but it just wasn’t happening.” You notice his nails were now black and yellow.

“Can I just say I love that you color coordinated your nails?” You hold his hand looking over the colors.

“Hey, when I commit to something, I commit.” You give him a funny look. “Right, shall we head over?”

“Yup, let me just grab my bag. We’ll go back to your place after, yeah?”

“Works for me.” He smiles, and takes your bag down to the car, checking out your ass in your jumpsuit. “That really is a sexy outfit, (y/n).” You feel your cheeks heat up when he places a hand on your thigh as he drives to Niall’s.

“Thank you, Harry.” You give his hand a little squeeze.

When you get up to Niall’s, the place was already packed. You spot him right away. He had a white t-shirt on that said ‘chill’ on it and you immediately rolled your eyes. You spot Sarah who is wearing a tight red dress that she pinned the word Netflix to. Niall comes over to the greet you, and to take the bottle of wine you brought.

“Glad you guys could make it.” He looks you both up and down. “Charlie Brown and Snoopy? Damn, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you are unoriginal, mate.” Harry grabs your hand and brings you over to the drink cart to make the two of you drinks. You wave to Sarah who gives you a thumbs up.

You just realized you had never been to a big party with Harry before. Well, you both had been at Niall’s holiday party last year, but you weren’t there together. Nor did the two of your even speak. You remember him slightly talking to a group of girls who were probably all waiting the clock out to see who he would take home with him.

Rachel was there with a girl, who you recognized as the girl she took home from the bar over a month ago. You make eye contact with her, and you both wink at each other. You were so happy your friend groups were merging.

“Oi! It’s the lad himself!” You hear a man with a thicker British accent yell to Harry. Harry whips his head around, and you swear you had never seen him smile quite so big. The man was wearing all yellow and had a picture of Heinz Mustard on his belly. Ketchup probably not too far away.

“Lou!” Harry yells back, and the two practically run into each other’s arms. “What the fuck are ya doin’ here?”

“I drove in for the party, that alright with ya?” The two hug for another second, before Harry turns back to introduce you.

“Babe, this is my mate Louis. Louis, this is my girlfriend, (y/n).” You hold your hand out to shake, and he takes it kindly.

“Nice to meet ya.”

“Same to you. So, did you go to college with Harry and Niall?”

“Yeah we spent some time at uni together. It’s so funny, ya live in the same country with a guy, only a couple of hours away your whole life, and it takes goin’ ‘cross the pond at some random school to meet.”

“And you also decided to stay in the states?”

“Yeah, well the girl I was with at the time convinced me to stay here with her. We broke up eventually, but by that time I had already gone through the process of dual citizenship.”

“Oh I see.”

“Mate, El is here with me tonight, I’m sure she’d love to see ya, let me go grab her.” You see Harry roll his eyes after Louis leaves.

“I fucking hate his girlfriend, her name is Eleanor.”

“Oh, why do you hate her?” You put a hand on his arm to soothe him.

“She just rubs me the wrong way. She hated how close Lou and I were, that’s why he lives like two hours away, because the three of us would hang out all the time. The three of us lived together for a while, and she yanked him right out.” Louis walks over with Eleanor, and yup, she’s ketchup.

“Hi Harry.” She says with what you assume is a fake smile, because he’s giving her one as well. They give each other a small hug.

“Hey El, this is my girlfriend, (y/n).”

“Hi, love, nice to meet ya.” Why were there so many British people in this area? How did they find each other? “Girlfriend! Well, it’s ‘bout damn time, H.” You look up at him and scrunch your nose. You had never heard anyone refer to him like that. 

“Was just waitin’ for the right girl.” He hooks an arm around your waist, and you feel peaceful.

“Harry, come do shots with me like old times. I know Niall has that good tequila.”

“Deal.” The boys go into the kitchen to find shot glasses, leaving you with Eleanor.

“Did ya ever watch Boy Meets World growin’ up?” You make a face at the odd question, but laugh.

“Um, yeah, I loved that show.”

“Right, well, what you’re lookin’ at”, she points to the boys who are clinking two shot glasses together. You already know you’re going to have to uber back to Harry’s later. “is a the real life Cory and Shawn.”

“Which one of us is Topanga?” You giggle.

“Me, of course. I was always the third wheel with them. I met Louis in grad school, and you would think that two boys wouldn’t act like such children around each other.” You didn’t think Harry was close with someone other that Niall. “Jesus, and when the three of them would get together.” She rolls her eyes.

“They seem to really miss each other. It’s good for guys to have friends.”

“Oh I agree, I don’t mind Niall. Harry just never really warmed up to me, and would make things difficult for Lou and I. I know he blames me for why Lou lives so far away, but I got a really good job offer and he wanted to come with me.”

“I get it. My best friend lives outside the city, and it’s hard enough to get together with her only an hour away.” Yes, you still considered Kate to be your best friend, even if you still weren’t talking to her. “It’s a two way street, both people have to make the effort.”

“We invite Harry to visit all the time, but he always say no. I think he would feel like the third wheel, not that that’s possible. Maybe now that he has you, you could convince him to come out for a weekend here and there. We can’t stay with him here because he doesn’t have space for us. And hotels can be so expensive.”

“Sure, I could definitely put a bug in his ear.” You hadn’t been away with Harry yet, you didn’t really want your first weekend away to be with another couple, but you would see how things go.

“Thanks, Jesus, look at them.” You see them laughing as they take another shot. “That’s their third shot you know? We officially no longer exist at this party.” Before you can say anything, Sarah comes up to you with a shot glass for yourself.

“Here, Harry asked me to do one with you.” You take the cold glass from her and tip your head back.

“I love tequila, I’m gonna get more. Eleanor come on, come do a shot.” She sighs, but follows you into the kitchen.

You grab a lime and some salt. You cut up the lime into small sections.

“What are you doin’?” Harry slurs. Wait, Harry is drunk? He never gets drunk.

“I’m gonna do some shooters.”

“Shooters?” He mimics your American accent.

“Yup, give me your hand.” You lick a small spot on the top of his hand, his eyes growing wide at the PDA, and shake some salt on it. You do the same to your own hand. “Okay, so, how it goes is, you lick the salt, take the shot, and suck on the lime.”

Eleanor and Louis do as you did, and you all lick the salt at the same time. You take your shot, and grab the lime immediately to suck on. Harry can’t help but watch as your teeth sink into the fruit and suck the juice. You take it out of your mouth and look at them.

“See, way more fun way to take a shot.”

You start to feel a bit tipsy, and suddenly the music is calling you. You walk away without saying anything to find Sarah and Rachel. The three of you form a little group so you can dance. Niall really did have the perfect layout for a party. There was room to sit or stand around to just chat, and he had the room for dancing. Whatever playlist was on was hitting just right. Some oldies and newer hits was the perfect combination.

Eleanor leaves to use the bathroom, and Niall goes to stand with Louis and Harry, as the boys watch the girls dance.

“I gotta say Harry, she sure knows how to move it.” Louis says.

“Yeah, she sure does. I would have loved to know her in uni, apparently she was quite the party animal.”

“The three of them were.” Niall says, taking a sip of his drink. “Sarah has told me some wild stories. (y/n) apparently is one of the most fun people to party with.”

You move along effortlessly to the beat of the song. You and your friends are laughing and singing along loudly to the music, but no one can really hear you. A lot of other people start dancing, it might as well be a club in here.

“Lou?” Eleanor says after coming back from the bathroom.

“Yeah, love?”

“Come dance with me?”

“You bet, see ya guys out there.” Harry rolls his eyes as Eleanor drags him away.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was comin’?” Harry looks at Niall with a pout.

“Thought he was goin’ to flake. He’ll be around all weekend, don’t worry you two can have some alone time, I’ll make sure of it. Just try to pretend to be happy for him.”

“I am happy for him, I just wish he found any other girl to make him happy.” Niall starts to walk away. “Where you goin’?”

“My girl is out there shakin’ her ass, so you better believe I’m gonna go dance with her, and you should do the same, plenty of guys are watchin’ her.” He points over at you, and it was true. Plenty of people were watching you.

A drunk Harry stumbles over to you, and wraps his arms around your waist, pressing himself against your backside. He starts dancing with you, like really dancing with you. He wasn’t the embarrassed man who referred to himself as a giraffe the first time you went dancing with him. You wondered if this was what he was like in college, if he would grind with girls to show them what he had, and bring them home with him. You shake the thought from your head, and move against him in perfect rhythm. He turns your around to face him, his hands slipping down to your butt. You wrap your arms around his neck, and dance on him. He’s dying to know your college stories. You seem like such a good girl, but maybe not, and he wanted to hear all about it.

In a bold move, almost forgetting where you were, you grab hold of his collar, and yank his face down to yours, kissing him. He puts his hands on your face, and pulls you in for a deeper kiss, while your hands go on his hips. Your tongue is instantly in his mouth, and he tastes like tequila. He was so incredibly sexy, and you were extremely turned on. You hadn’t been able to do anything all week with your period in the way. You still pleasured him because you wanted to, but you missed his touch.

“Jesus, look at ‘em go.” Louis nudges Niall, taking a break from the dancing.

“You know, I’ve only ever seen them kiss in public once, and it was nothin’ like that.”

“He’s really into her, huh?”

“He asked her to be his girlfriend three weeks in.”

“Wow, yup, he’s got it bad. Wonder what it is?”

“She’s just…a good person. Instant connection.”

“Good for the lad, he deserves a good woman.”

Harry breaks your kiss, as he remembered where you are. If you were anyone else, he would take you and lead you to the bathroom, press you against the wall, and take you from behind. But he couldn’t do that with you, not yet anyways.  He leaves you to dance with your friends, and you catch him dancing with Louis and Niall. You can’t help but take your phone out and take a quick video of the occasion. You and your friends take selfies and videos of yourselves. You’re still in awe of Harry, having more fun that you had ever seen him have. Louis brought out an exceptional mood in him. It was funny to see the three of them sing along to the same song, wondering what Harry’s singing voice might sound like.

The party slowly dissipated, but not before you and Harry were deemed best costumes. You didn’t win anything, but the bragging rights were nice. You offered to help clean up, but Sarah told you she would help Niall. Harry was in deep conversation with Louis while you went to grab your coats. They were looking at Louis’ phone and snickering like children. You smile and hand Harry his coat.

“Lou, I’m gonna go get settled in the guest room, night Harry.” Eleanor said.

“You’re stayin’ here?”

“Yeah, hotel was too expensive. What are you up to tomorrow, was hoping to just have lunch with the lads.”

“I can definitely do that.” Harry turns to you. “You don’t mind right?”

“Not at all, babe.”

“Just text me tomorrow, mate.” The two hug, and Harry hooks an arm around your waist. “Oi, Niall!” Harry yells.

“What?” He yells from the kitchen.

“Great party mate, I’ll be by tomorrow.”

The cold air on the street slaps the two of you in the face.  You take your phone out to order an uber as Harry holds you from behind, humming into your hair. You had never seen him quite so drunk before. Usually you were the one that was drunk while he was perfectly fine. You were still buzzed, but you were nowhere near where he was. You lost count of how many shots he had actually taken. You just knew he consumed a lot of tequila.

The uber pulls up pretty quickly, and you both climb in. You keep an arm around Harry, and he rests his head against your shoulder, still humming some song you can’t quite make out. You key into his apartment, and immediately take your shoes off. He watches you walk into the bathroom. You really needed to pee, and you needed to wash off that black make up on your nose. You take your dog ears off, but leave everything else on. He’s by the sink drinking some water when you return.

“Didja have fun tonight baby?” He asks you, guzzling down the water.

“Yes, babe, don’t drink that so fast, it’ll upset your stomach.”

“Aw, are ya gonna take care of me tonight?” He says in the sweetest voice. “Treat me like your l’il baby?”

“Do you want to be treated like a baby?” You raise an eyebrow at his funny words.

“Not particularly.” He slurs. “Did you know that I love babies?”

“Yes, you’ve told me before, remember? You like shooting maternity photos for people.”

“You know, I really do.”

“I’m glad you had fun tonight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh so much.”

“S’not true.” He pouts. “You make me laugh all the time.”

“It’s okay, Harry. I have fun with my friends when we haven’t seen each other in a while too. You and Louis looked like you were having a great time.”

“We were, he’s really my best mate. Niall is too, the three of us are like the three amigos.”

“So I saw. It was funny watching you three dance together.”

“It was just like being in uni again. Everyone always wanted to come to our parties, we threw the best parties (y/n).”

“I believe it.”

“Are you mad?”

“What? No, of course not, why would I be?”

“Because I drank a lot more than I should have. I was supposed to get ya home.”

“But you did, the uber was just fine.”

“Let’s go sit on the couch, yeah?” He grabs you by the wrist and pulls you towards the couch. Before you can sit down he looks you up down. “Where’d ya nose go?”

“Washed it off.” You shrugged.

“This is such a sexy outfit, have I told ya that yet tonight?”

“Maybe once or twice.” You giggle. “But it’s always nice to hear.” He pulls you close to him, and pats your bum.

“You have the best ass I have ever seen, have I ever told you that?” You feel your cheeks flush. He was starting to get fresh. You slip your hands to his butt to mimic what he’s doing to you.

“I could say the same about you.” Giving one of his cheeks a little pinch, he jumps back a half inch.

“Oi, if you do that again, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Oh really?”

You start pinching at him again, and he starts to tickle you, making a ghastly laugh come from you. You slap your hand over your mouth, but he pulls it away. You try to tickle him back, and you end up chasing him around his little apartment. He picks you up from behind, swinging you around, making you squeal. He puts you down on the bed, he hops over you and lays on his back, he looks at you and taps his legs. You get the idea and crawl on top of him, straddling his legs.

“I’d like this to come off ya now.” He slips your straps off your shoulders. “If that’s alright with you.”

You lean up, and put your arms through the straps. You push the material down only a little, causing Harry to pout for the millionth time tonight.

“I’m not wearing a bra with this.”

“I know.”

“I like when you take your time with me.”

Harry sits up against the headboard so you can sit on him easier. He brings his mouth to your jaw, and kisses down your neck. He sinks his teeth in where he always does. The skin must be raw there with how often he kisses you in that spot. He licks over it to soothe you, and kisses down your chest. His hands move up to your breasts, and kneads them through the material. He looks up at you for approval, and you nod yes. One hand moves to the back of the jumpsuit, and un zips the small zipper so he can easily tug the material down. Your breasts pop out, and he looks like a kid in candy store. Sloppy wet kisses cover your chest instantly. He sucks on your left breast, and you groan with your head rolling back. He take the piercing between his teeth and he twists it. You roll your hips on him involuntarily.

“You like that?” He coos. You nod your head. “Use your words baby.”

“Yes, I like that.” You say through your teeth, as he continues to suck on your tender nipple. Your hands go straight into his hair and rake over his scalp, causing him to moan while he sucks on you.

“I gotta get his off of ya, please will you let me?”

“Yes, but you have to take yours off too.”

You hope off the bed, and he does the same. You take his shirt off him, and push his shorts down his legs, careful to leave his boxers on. Your jumpsuit falls off, pooling at your feet, and revealing a white lace thong. Harry furrows his eyebrows.

“You, you were wearing this all night?”

“Um, yeah?”

He takes you, and gently bends you over the bed. You rubs a hand over your ass. You half expect him to spank you, but he knows better, he knows you don’t want that. A finger dips into the material, and he plays with it for a moment.

“Your ass looks amazing right now.” You start giggling. “What?”

“I can’t tell if you’re an ass man or a tit man. You seem to really like both.” You say looking back at him.

“If it’s a part of your body, then I like it.” He puts both hands on your ass and kneads your cheeks. “This is just pure perfection.” He leans forward to press himself against you. He’s so hard against you, it makes you push back into him. “(y/n), can we try something different tonight?”

“Harry”, you stand up to face him, taking his hands in yours. This was a dreaded question. Selfishly, you liked things how they were. You knew he wanted to feel every inch of you, but you were still working through things at therapy, and you just couldn’t let him touch you like that yet. You sigh, feeling awful. “I’m so sorry, I’m just not ready for-“ You’re cut off by his hands on your face and his mouth on yours.

“I didn’t mean, doing more. I just had a different position in mind. I’m not ever going to suggest anything more until you say so.” He reassures her.

“Alright, what did you have in mind?”

“Well, first, how would you feel about sitting on my face?” Your eyes nearly pop out. That wasn’t something you did often. Even though his head had been between your legs countless time, sitting on his face just seemed really vulnerable. But you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on. To ride his face, to be so in control of the situation.

“Yeah, we could try that. What was the second?”

“Hm?”

“You said first, what’s the second position?”

“Let’s just try this, and then I’ll bring that up.” He says with a grin.

“Okay, but, let’s turn the lights off.” You point the switch on the wall, and he flicks it off.

“Take your panties off baby.”

You slide the thong off and toss it on the floor. He leaves his boxers on for now. Harry lays on the bed, right next to you. Your breathing felt heavy as you crept your way up to him.

“Don’t be shy, love. You’re so beautiful, I’m dying to see you from this angle.”

With his words of encouragement, you swung your leg over him, and lowered yourself onto his face. You were already dripping for him. The second he started sucking on your nipples you were a goner. Harry started to suck on your clit, and you grabbed at his headboard. You let out a breathless moan at the way he nibbled and sucked on your most sensitive area. You sunk down on him a little, and he moved his mouth to your warm, dripping center. His tongue lapped around you for a moment, but went up inside you so you could ride him. His hands moved to your hips and gently rocked you. You started to move yourself slowly against his face. His little bit of stubble adding the perfect amount of friction. Before you knew it, you were grinding down on him back and forth, riding his tongue. Your moans started to get louder and louder, clutching at the headboard, trying to pinch your legs together, looking for some release. But his hands on your thighs kept your legs open. You didn’t know if it was the different angle, or the fact that you were so in control, but you were feeling amazing. You loved looking down seeing him under you like this. You rocked faster on him, a thumb moving to rub your clit. That’s when you knew you were done for.

“Oh, fuck, Harry! Fuck!” You moaned out, over and over. “I’m goonnnnaaa, ahhh…” You came, hard on his tongue. He slowly sucked on you so you could ride your high out. He lifted you off of him, and he wipes his face. His chest was heaving up and down, and slowly he steadied it. He looked up at you and smiled.

“That was so hot, did you like it?”

“Yeah, it felt incredible. So, um…” You knew you weren’t done with him yet. “What was the other position?”

“Eager?”

“Curious.”

“I want to do that to you, while you do it to me.” You furrow your eyebrows for a second, putting two and two together. A slight squeak leaving your mouth.

“Are you asking me to 69?” He nods at you.

“Would you feel comfortable with that?”

“Well, would you have to eat me out…like from behind?”

“Yup.” He’s so comfortable with it. You weren’t sure if you wanted to have your ass in his face like that. You also didn’t want him accidentally licking your asshole or something. “If you don’t want to it’s okay, I just thought it might be fun to do that at the same time.”

“Well, we can try, and if I feel weird we’ll stop.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

You reach down and tug at his boxers. He lifts his hips up so you can bring them down his legs, tossing them aside. You wanted him in your mouth, that wasn’t the problem. You also didn’t want to be that close to his asshole either. He probably didn’t care because he was still intoxicated. You stare at his dick, it is absolutely throbbing for you, this snaps you out of any concern.

“Right, so it’s a little easier if we both lay on our side.” Confirmation that he’s done this before, wonderful. You want to roll your eyes at him, but you know he didn’t mean anything by the comment.

You lay on your left side, eyeing his dick that has begun to leak at the tip. You feel him move between your legs, as you stroke your thumb over his tip. His mouth is on you again, and you moan out that different sensation you’re getting from having him lick you from the opposite direction. You put on hand on his hip, and the other on his dick. You start out with just the tip in your mouth while your hand worked his base. You feel Harry groan into you, causing you to moan with him in your mouth. You had never done something quite so erotic. He licked you quicker and quicker, as you bobbed your head, taking more of him into your mouth. He rocks his hips into you as you do to him, you’re way more turned on than you thought you’d be. His chin is rubbing against your clit as his tongue goes back inside you.

“Ahh, shit!” You say with him in your mouth, taking him deeper. You feel him hit the back of your throat as he rocks into you, and you choke on him for a second. He stops to see if you’re alright. “Fuck, don’t stop Harry!” You say pumping just for a moment before wrapping your swollen lips around him again.

You felt your stomach tighten and you knew your release was coming. You could feel tears streaming down your cheeks from having his cock so deep down your throat, but you loved the way he tasted. Neither of you warn each other, just as you’re releasing on his tongue, his hot come comes shooting to the back of your throat. You take as much of it into your mouth as you can, but you need to moan out from your high. You cough up some of his come back on his dick, and you try to catch your breath. Harry turns his body so he’s fully laying on his back. You swallow what you can of the come that’s still in your mouth. You feel him yank at your arm, and he pulls you up, so you’re lying on his chest. He’s stroking your hair, trying to steady his breathing. His chest is laced with sweat.

“How, how did you like that?”

“It was different. But it felt amazing. I love the way it feels when you’re do that and you moan into me, it’s so hot Harry.” He moves to kiss you but you back away. “I should really go rinse my mouth out first.”

“It doesn’t bother me.” His pupils are still blown out. You look at his dick, it’s twitching, could it really be getting hard again? “Lemme kiss ya.”

“Please, I just want to rinse my mouth out, hold on a sec.” You quickly go to the bathroom, and rinse your mouth out. You’re back to the bed quick, just like you said. “See? Okay, now I’ll kiss you.”

You lean down and kiss him, slightly tasting yourself on his lips, but it’s not a big deal. He sucks on your bottom lip, biting it pretty good, and you groan. Your hands are in his hair in seconds, pulling at it. He wraps his arms around you, and pulls you on top of him. You keep your lower half hovering over him, not wanting to make contact.

“Please, I’m so hard again, please touch me.” He says against your lips.

“I thought when guys drank like this they had a hard time getting it up.” You say taking him into your small hand, giving him slow pumps.

“It has the opposite effect on me, god that feels good.”

You pump him until he’s panting. You loved the sight of his parted lips, and the way his hands grabbed all over your body.

“(y/n), can I please come on your ass?” You’re surprised at him.

“Um, sure.” You squeak.

You get off him quickly and lay on your stomach. He grips himself in one hand, and puts the other on your hip. He pulls you up slightly so your butt is more in the air. You hear him moan out, and it nearly makes you come again. Sensing this, at the sight of you squeezing your legs together, Harry reaches around to rub your clit, careful to only use his thumb.

“Fuck!” You scream out, feeling your third release of the night come at the same you feel his hot come spread all over of your back and butt. You nearly collapse on the mattress. You hear the bed creak, and watch as Harry saunters to the bathroom, coming back with a towel. He wipes you clean, and you turn over, amazed by him and what his simple touch does to you. You know you need to get up to pee, if you don’t you’ll regret it. He puts on a clean pair of boxers, and watches you go into the bathroom. You’re still crazy wet. A mix of you and him. You almost feel bad having to wipe it all away, but no guy will ever be worth having a UTI for.

“Here, wanna wear my shirt? You always look so cute in my clothes.” He coos, holding up a t-shirt. You happily take it and put it on. You get back on the bed with him, and he hugs you close to his bare chest. “You did so good baby, so good. You were amazing.” He rubs your back. You loved the way he always tried to make you feel better. It’s not like you were having BDSM, it’s not like he slapped you around. It wasn’t like you needed time to come back to him. But he knew you were always after doing something new or different.

“It was really nice, Harry. A good suggestion.” You snuggle into him, and he puts the comforter over the both of you. “Thank you for always being so nice to me.” You knew he’d be rougher with you if you let him. You knew if you said the word, you’d let him raw you over his desk. That was the thing with him though. He always asked for permission, and he didn’t do anything unless you said so.

[silentmajesticfox]

Falling In Love With Chrollo Lucilfer

(Rose is someone from Chrollo's past, specifically Meteor City. In this story, Rose and Chrollo, along with the troupe, rekindle their relationship. Well, try to. Rose is in an arranged marriage to protect and support her little sister. This story is set a little bit before the York New Ark, and during the beginning of it. and will go throughout the ark as well.

the picture on here I found is from PINTEREST AND IS NOT MINE. whoever drew it is spectacular and amazing. I'm obsessed..

**TW !**(Trigger Warning!) please do not read if you do not agree or are triggered by - domestic abuse (this will be from the arranged marriage) - depression/suicidal thoughts -substance abuse. Now I will not go into full detail especially for the domestic abuse, it's just to go into the story for beginning chapters. possibly flashbacks . So please, again, don't read if this will trigger you. Also, this will probably be pretty violent through some chapters. thank you for reading and your time.)

Moral Of The Story

Rose never thought she'd be in this situation, unhappy and rather disappointed with her life decisions. She was sure at first, that she had calculated this and this plan was fool proof, however, she was very wrong. She might have been in love, or what she thought was love - however it had escalated to a burning hatred and a bitter after taste. A blind love turned cold due to her own inability to see this would be the result.

Sitting there applying too much make-up to cover up her black eye and a few other bruises, she would not let her get that down. She had to stay strong for her sister, Daisy. Daisy is the reason Rose is still thriving and okay through all of this. Everything she does is for her little sister. She would die for her. Literally and emotionally/mentally. She finished applying the foundation, to move on and do her eyeshadow, eyeliner, and a very thick coat of mascara, her eyes shining a ice blue.  She was wearing a simple, tight fit dress, in the color of burgundy. Her long, curly, dark burgundy hair matched the attire. With black heels. Looking at all of the jewelry her 'husband' had gotten her, maybe to buy her love back or his way of saying "sorry, not sorry." Rose huffed staring at them, not wanting this anymore, on the verge of a mental breakdown, memories for each gift being a constant reminder of why it was gifted.

Daisy soon walked in, her blonde hair and matching blue eyes light up, running to Rose, hugging her tightly from behind. Rose being able to handle pain well, just smiled and whipped her head around.

"You look beautiful Daisy." She stated, lookking at her little sisters beautiful pink ball gown dress. Only at the age of 13, it is an intense nostalgic reminder for Rose to see how big her baby sister was getting, saying she was the one whole raised her.

"Thank you!! You look beautiful too, sissy!" Daisy said, she was always so happy, and maybe some of that happiness is what Rose needed in the moment. "Are you ready to go to the ball, tomorrow's your birthday you know!"

"Yes, and let's head down there now. Only you and me will celebrate." Rose said, getting up from her vanity. "I will meet you downstairs, okay?"

"Okay, you better not take forever or I'll be mad at you." Her sister said, glaring at her sister, a laugh fallowing after before running out like a full speed train. Rose wished she could be young, hoping her sister would forget her birthday, yet she felt her mood lighten up knowing someone remembered.

Rose opened her drawer, opening a certain empty face powder jar. Grabbing The hidden key, she opened her one drawer with her bourbon. She had a bad habit formed, to think- or to forget all the bad things. She pulled out the bottle, opening it, and drinking it as if it were water. After a few more chugs, she put away and always made sure to lock it and hide her key. Walking out of the room, and closing the door. She then went downstairs into the lobby, then outside to a cold York New night.

Walking up to the limousine- she opened the door to sit by her sister, her husband sitting across from them.

"Why aren't you dressed up more? And no Jewelry?" Fred asked. (Guessing a name) Rose looked up at him, trying to think of a nice way to keep conversation. It was always those type of questions or degrading comments, not a compliment or 'how was your day?'.

"Mm... Not really feeling like wearing jewelry.. and as a matter of fact I can wear what I want." She stated back seriously. If there was a way to press his buttons, this was one of them. However, as she stared coldly back at his glare, she wasn't scared. She already knew whatever she said would bite her back in the ass.

It was late last night, Daisy had went to sleep and Rose was putting on her blue night gown. Fred walked in, boozed up and he had a violent glint in his eyes. One that unsettles her the second he walked in the room. "Rose, why wouldn't you spend any time with me and my friends tonight?.." he asked. She might have been a little drunk herself, but she knew she would have to stand her ground. Rose snorted almost, shaking her head before replying. "Because I have no need to hang out with people like you, I already told you I was done with everything that has to do with you, when your friends try so hard to be my friends.. I know they are fraud of their true intentions.." she started, so calmly that it got under Fred's skin. He walked up to her, grabbing her wrist and trying to pull her closer to him.  "No that's not it, Tell me the truth." Fred said raising his voice. She could smell the alcohol coming from his break. She wouldn't flinch, but retaliate by attempting to shove him. "This.. This right here is why! Fred! I told you I was done, give me back my Nen! I don't love you anymore, why don't you ask yourself and the other girls you were hooking up with nights before! That's why I hat-" and before she could exclaim her feelings, she got struck in the face. An echo through the halls, and it to be honest it had gone from slaps to a full fisted punch. "Maybe it's because you're terrible, you only want me for my money, and those women are more than you'll ever be, Rose! Beautiful, unlike you." He screamed, at this point she was trying to hit him back as he was man handling her. This continued for about 30 minutes, and in the end, he had won. She was exhausted and bruised, he soon left the room, to do whatever. Rose knew he had other women, but being told by someone who once loved her and she loved a great deal, she started to fall down the wall, sobbing and releasing all of the pent up pain and feelings from the past months. Hoping one day, she would retrieve her Nen from him.. in the morning he had came to apologise and give her a diamond necklace.

Rose was spacing off, thinking of what had occurred. He can't say she didn't try, and her feelings and anger was running wild. If she had her Nen, this would be a different story. However, when they got married, she let him take her crystal ball. In which all her Nen was in. It was placed in a vault in his penthouse suite. She had tried many times to retrieve it, but only would get knocked out and brought to her room. One of the reasons she sleeps in her sisters room now. Daisy tugged on Roses dress, to bring her out of her thought. She looked over at her sister, a fake smile creeping on her lips and she hugged her. Fred had also been in thought, but let the conversation drop. He had plans for her later, however.

When they arrived, it was a big, fancy building. Alike many others in York New. Daisy was the first to get out, grabbing Roses hand and almost running to the doors, leaving Fred in the dust. "Slow down, Daisy, I can't run ask fast as you." Rose told her sister, however it was a lie. She could run faster. But with her bruises and aching body, Daisy has the advantage. Rose had always hidden these things from her. However, Daisy was smarter than what she led on at times. Almost witty enough to match her big sister sometimes. She already knew what had been happening. She slowed down for a sister, before giving her and her big sisters ticket to the security man at the front door.

"Okay your clear, come in." He stated in monotone before Fred had walked up behind them to do the same. Also being granted entry, all three of them walked in. It was quite a sight, beautiful one would say. Even though her sister was dragging her to the dance floor, Rose again had thought about what Fred said. "Beautiful, unlike you." Rang in her mind. Clouding it. Seems like she did not drink enough. By the time she returned to present time, she started dancing with her sister, in which laughs and giggles were heard from them. Fred walked up to his friends and the girls in which he had replaced Rose for. She looked over a little bit, quickly looking away as he had kissed them.

"Daisy, I'm going to get a drink, would you like to keep dancing, or come with me?" Rose asked. Daisy shook her head no and flowed away twirling. Rose smiled, at how pure and genuine her little sister can be at times, even when things were rough in Meteor City. A thought that hadn't crossed her mind in a long time. Meteor City. She missed it at times, however, there were people she missed more, wondering how they were doing..

Rose walked up to the bar, sat down, and waiting for the bartender to get done talking to a man and giving him a glass of red wine. She looked over, a realization hit when she looked at the man sitting over a few stools from her. He looked all to familiar, his black hair had grown since she last saw him, a nicely fitted tuxedo and a bandage around his forehead. Those green earrings matched his demeanor. He felt someone staring at him, he looked over to stare at her. She was sure, now, with those beautiful grey eyes starting into her soul.

"Chrollo, it's been quite a while, you aged well.." She said, getting up and sitting next to him. Chrollo was observing her for a minute before saying anything, taking in her image, also being able to see through the make up. He took a sip of his wine, and shifted over giving her a smile.

"Ah, Rose. Time has been very kind to you as well." Chrollo said in a low yet polite voice, she felt chills go up and down her spine. The bartender looked at her waiting for her to say what she wanted.

"I'll take a bourbon, please." Rose slightly acknowledged the bartender as he shook his head and went to get her drink.

Chrollo was thinking to himself, how beautiful she already was when he last saw her, but now she was even more, a treasure. "So, you're a bourbon girl now?" He asked, eyeing her, taking another sip. Chrollo had already assumed what she was going through, remembering how she use to cope with things in Meteor City. He glanced at her hand seeing a wedding ring on her ring finger. He glanced back up to her face, those ocean eyes he remembered so well.

"Oh... Uh.. yeah I suppose I am. So how long has it been, a whole eight years? What have you been up to since the last time we spoke." Rose replied, giving him a smile before drinking all of her drink in one go, pushing it at the bartender nodding her head to signal she wanted more. "Sir, could you please give me the bottle, I'll pay in full, you know who's tab to put it on." She told him, as she was a regular here. She glanced over at Fred, her heart shattering a little bit more, as he danced with the one women of his she disliked the most in the most provocative way, as though there was really nothing left to shatter in her heart. Returning her look at Chrollo, his eyes were fixated on Fred now, and she saw the eyes in which she loved, truly turn dark and mischievous. As if Fred could feel the darkness staring at him, his eyes went to Chrollo's, then his wife. A rise of jealousy and anger rose, but he looked away and would address this later on, also since he was entertained very much so with the woman before him.

"So... I'm guessing that's your husband, Rose?" Chrollo asked, looking back at her. "He's a fool." Chrollo stated right after, almost done with his wine and the bartender pouring more. Rose looked at Chrollo, knowing he is one of the smartest people on earth In her eyes, realizing he had everything figured out within a few minutes. She never knew why, but she was always rather emotional when it came to talking about problems with Chrollo. Maybe it was a deep connection, or just the way he made her feel. A tear rolled down as she looked away for a moment, wiping it away. Checking in on her sister when she did so, she was having a blast dancing with a boy her age.

"Yeah, uh... I guess you could say things weren't supposed to end like this... Enough about me. I've missed you, you know I did ask you a question Chrollo." Rose replied, her voice quivering a bit but was worse as she tried to cover it up. But Chrollo was just watching her, he could tell she was quite nervous and broken, drinking her third heavily filled cup. He hadn't seen her quite like this. If Chrollo could feel anything close to caring, it would be for her. And of course his troupe. And to him, it only felt like maybe a year or two since he saw her. So much had happened since then.

"Mm... You are changing the subject. However, I won't mind answering if you tell me the answers to my questions." Chrollo slithering his words, just staring at her. She knew that was his thing. She simply nodded staring back at him, before downing another drink. "Perfect. Well, I've been with you know who, we've been quite busy. And as for the time apart, I never actually realized it had been that long.." he stated truthfully. But soon stated something that would shock her. "I do, however, know your birthday is tomorrow, isn't it? Did you ever get the letters I sent you?" Maybe this is why Chrollo always had a place in her heart. She did receive them all, but was only ever able to send him one for his birthday. Except, she was unable to this year due to her and Fred's issues, she couldn't leave the mansion for a week almost, she was beaten every time, however Fred caught notice of her and Chrollo's letters, becoming more and more furious each year. She cried for quite a while that she could not write her friend a happy birthday letter.

"You are correct, as always. I'm surprised you remember. You always did have a sharp mind." Rose said in a tipsy voice, a smile tugging on her plump lips. "Don't think I've forgotten yours either.. I'm sorry I couldn't write back a couple weeks ago, but.. happy belated birthday Chrollo." She said, opening up the slightest, giving him a hug with one arm and setting down her dead on his shoulder. Chrollo knew he could get information he didn't need, but wanted to know... And as for Rose, tipsy and all, usually she knew Chrollo came with a motive, and If he didn't, he would soon find one. She could tell something peaked his interest. But was unclear on what.

"Well, I'm assuming he wouldn't let you write me back, it's not your fault. I knew you would have, you do every year.. thank you." Chrollo smiled, as she recoiled back to her original position In her seat. "So, Rose, be a dear, and please tell me what's been going on?.."

--

A/N thank you so much for reading. Hopefully it's not to terrible, but I am going to keep writing since Chrollo is daddy and I love him. Lol. Hope you liked it and like I said in the description, please be advised there is substance abuse and domestic abuse. Don't worry, I have something planned and Fred will get was he deserves. Thank you so much for reading! Also I took this from my wattpad, so honestly the typos will be fixed. Eventually!

[leechobsessed]

Bad Decisions

So where did the blood come from, Ella? Well, lets find out, shall we? 

From Julian’s perspective.

Words: ~2700

Characters: Ella the Apprentice, Julian Devorak, Bato the bat-eared fox

Content warning: Mentions of blood, brief mention of something like self harm, alcohol, swearing

Previous chapter, masterlist

This is not the way he had expected the night to go.

He had expected to get incredibly drunk and fall asleep alone back in his small room at the palace, but instead, he was standing in the middle of his apprentice’s shop, trying to convince himself he did not find her attractive.

This was a task made substantially harder due to the fact he was quite intoxicated. 

It was hard to make out the contents of the shop in the dark, but Ella moved around the large room easily, avoiding the oddities scattered around the room, a small flame flickering in her hand as she invited Julian to follow her up the stairs. 

“This is quite the place you have here,” Julian said as he followed her up the creaky steps, ducking to avoid clipping his head on the ceiling. 

They emerged into a small apartment, where Ella shrugged as she pulled her cloak off. “It’s home.” She gestured vaguely to the living space. “It’s not much, but feel free to make yourself comfortable.”

Julian removed his own coat and placed it carefully over one of the kitchen chairs, surveying his surroundings as Ella set about lighting some candles. There were pillows, plants and books everywhere he looked, but the room still felt open and inviting. It was cute and very homey, and exactly what he would have pictured her home to look like.

Ella disappeared into one of the rooms off toward the back of the living space, emerging a moment later wrestling her hair back into a clip to keep it off her face. “Tea?” She asked as she returned to the kitchen. 

“Sure,” he responded as he took a seat at the table. He watched Ella as she pulled some clear jars from the shelves, unable to take his eyes off of her. He wasn’t much of a tea drinker, but he wanted some excuse, any excuse, to continue the night. 

Something under the table nudged his leg, pulling his gaze away from the chestnut-haired woman at the counter. Startled, he pushed back from the table quickly to reveal a small… fox? To be honest, Julian wasn’t sure what the creature was. It had a comically small head with large ears, soft looking brown and sand colored fur, and looked to be the size of a large cat. 

“Um, Ella?” The animal tilted its head, regarding Julian before pushing its nose against his leg again. “Is… this supposed to be in your house?”

Ella turned her attention toward him, her face lighting up when she saw the large-eared fox forcing its way onto Julian’s lap. “Mhm. That’s Bato. He’s my familiar.”

“Oh, sure,” Julian mumbled as Bato nestled into his arms, his dark eyes blinking at Julian as if asking for something. “What’s a familiar?”

“An animal companion some magicians have. They’re supposed to help with our magic, but this one just seems to make trouble. My aunt had a chameleon, Asra has a snake, I have Bato.” She leaned against the counter, folding her arms across her chest as she regarded them with amusement. “He wants you to pet him.”

Julian turned his attention back to the fox, who blinked at him again, waiting. Tentatively, Julian began to scratch behind his ears, relaxing a little as the fox closed his eyes and nestled further into his arms.

“He’s friendly,” Julian murmured, continuing to scratch the small head of Ella’s familiar. He wasn’t sure if foxes could purr, but he could swear that’s exactly what Bato was doing.

“I like him,” Ella says in response, still watching them, smiling fondly at the little creature in his lap. “He’s got big ears, like me.” To emphasize her point, she pulled on her ears with both hands.

Julian laughed, turning his gray eyes back to her. “Take it from someone who actually has big ears, you don’t have big ears. Yours are cute.”

He paused, hoping Ella didn’t catch what he said. The blush that spread across the bridge of Ella’s nose to the tips of her ears clued him in that she did, in fact, hear him, and she quickly turned back to face the counter. Cursing at himself for making things weird, Julian cleared his throat and changed the subject. 

“How long have you owned this shop?”

Ella hummed as she pulled a kettle down from a shelf above her head. “Well, technically it’s my aunt’s shop. I used to help her run it. But she left me the keys maybe a year ago to go make wine in Elyria.”

Julian laughed. “Well, it sounds like it’s your shop now, at least. Is her wine any good?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” Ella set the kettle down on the stove, but instead of lighting it, she climbed up onto the counter to dig around the contents on the highest shelf. After a moment, she descended her perch, handing a bottle of wine to Julian. “She sends over boxes of wine every few months. This is from her latest batch if you wanted to try it.”

“Now?”

“Well… I mean sure, if you want.” Ella pulled two glasses out of seemingly nowhere, setting them on the table in front of him. She removed the kettle from the stove and set it on the counter. “But don’t expect me to get much work done tomorrow.”

“You deserve to take it easy for a day,” he murmured as he inspected the label before producing a knife from his boot and removing the cork. He poured the light yellowish liquid into the glasses in front of them, raising his glass in a toast to his companion. She touched her glass lightly to his before taking a sip.

“Hm. This is actually pretty good,” Julian said as he pulled the bottle back to him to look at the label again. 

“Did you think I’d lie to you?” Ella glanced behind her, out the kitchen window, where it had just started to rain. She suddenly stood up from the table and gestured for Julian to follow her. “Come with me. There are better places up here to drink wine and talk.”

Julian followed her into the room she had disappeared into a few minutes before. Just like the living area, it was full of plants and books, with a small bed nestled into the far corner, covered with a heap of blankets and more colorful pillows. 

Ella opened a door he hadn’t yet noticed, revealing a small porch with a truly stunning view of the city. Julian stood awkwardly off to the side as she pulled pillows out of a chest at the foot of the bed and threw them into the doorway to the porch, creating a little nest to sit in.

Ella sat on the pillows and patted the one across from her, flashing Julian with a dazzling smile that nearly knocked the wind out of him. “Come, sit, have a drink.”

Julian lowered himself onto the colorful pillows across from her, leaning back against the doorway to look out over the city. They sat in silence for a few minutes enjoying the view before Julian broke the silence.

“Is your family from Elyria?”

“Yes and no,” Ella said, taking another sip of wine. She twirled a strand of hair between her long fingers, pulling Julian’s thoughts to the memory of those fingers pressed against his chest as they danced. “My mother’s family is, but she left home when she was 18 and never went back.”

“Elyria is a very pretty city,” Julian responded. “I’ve been there a few times. I grew up in Nevion, which is just across the Strait of Seals from there.”

“I’ve heard the hot springs in Nevion are wonderful.”

“The salt does wonders for your skin,” Julian offered before finishing his glass of wine. Ella handed him the bottle, and he refilled both of their glasses. “If not Elyria, where did you grow up?”

“Paraka,” Ella responded, mirroring Julian’s posture and leaning against the door frame. “My father’s family has lived there a long time.” She hiccupped before continuing. “Most of my siblings left when they got older, but a few of them stayed to run the family tailor shop.”

“I spent quite a bit of time in Paraka, but I was happy to leave. A bit too hot there for me. Although, the people of Paraka do know how to throw a party.”

Ella laughed, and Julian found himself smiling at the sound. “You sound well traveled, Dr. Devorak.”

“You sound like you need to travel more, Miss Sagen.” She laughed again before taking a sip of her wine.

“Maybe. One day,” she said, looking back out over the city. Julian allowed himself a moment to take in her features, the sharp angle of her jaw, her high cheekbones with the light spattering of freckles across them. The way her mouth was always slightly pulled down at the corners, especially if she was deep in thought, as she seemed to be now. 

Oh, how he wanted to kiss those lips.

Julian ran a hand through his hair, once again blaming his wayward thoughts on the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed over the course of the night. “Why did you come to Vesuvia?”

“To study magic. I didn’t have much of an opportunity to in Paraka.”

“They don’t have magicians in Paraka?”

Ella sighed. “They do. It’s just... more complicated than that. But my aunt had offered to have me as her apprentice, and I felt like I needed to leave home, so I did. I’ve been here for about a decade.” She made a face and turned back to look at him. “That makes me feel old.”

Julian laughed, reaching over and patting her hand reassuringly. “Wait until you’re my age, then you can start saying you feel old.”

Ella blushed at the contact, but made no move to pull her hand away. “Can I ask you something?” She asked, her head tilted to the side.

“It seems fair, seeing as it’s mostly been me asking about you.”

“Why does magic scare you?”

Julian frowned, removing his hand from Ella’s and chewing on his bottom lip as he thought about his answer. The magician waited patiently, and he tried in vain to ignore how her warm gaze fell on his lips.

“I think... it’s because I can’t explain it. That is, I can’t explain how or why magic works.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I’m a man of science, and logic, and reason. And magic doesn’t follow any of the rules of science, or logic, or reason. I don’t think I’m scared of magic per say, but I don’t trust it. And I think that’s because I can’t explain it.”

Julian watched Ella as she processed what he had just said. She nodded to herself before setting her glass down and clapping her hands together. “Okay. What if I explained my magic to you? Do you think you would feel more comfortable maybe potentially using magic in your treatments? Because I do think it could help.”

He hesitated before nodding. “I’m listening.”

Ella adjusted her position on the pillows so she was facing him square on. He couldn’t help but smile as she leaned closer to him, more animated now that she was talking about something she was passionate about. “Okay, to preface, I’m drunk, so stop me if this isn’t making sense.” Julian laughed and nodded in encouragement. Ella cleared her throat before continuing. 

“So magician’s typically have an area of magic that comes more naturally to them than others, right? In my case, I’ve always had more of an affinity for healing. Now, don’t get too excited, I can’t cure anything terminal, but I’m pretty good at fixing physical wounds.”

“Illness is different, though, because each kind of illness manifests in a different way. Sometimes I can just take away the symptoms, other times I help the illness work its way out of the body quicker.” She paused, chewing on the inside of her cheek for a moment. She sighed, seeing the confusion on Julian’s face. “Sorry, I’ve never really had to explain this before. Maybe I should just show you.”

“Show me?”

Ella nodded. “Yeah. I’ll show you. Can I borrow your knife?” Julian’s eyebrows raised in question, and Ella held her hand out in response. “I promise I’m not doing anything drastic.”

He hesitated before handing her his knife. He watched as she pulled her dress up to her knees, and crossed her legs. In the dim light, he could see a handful of straight, dark pink scars in varying lengths along the inside of her right ankle.

“Um, Ella? What are you doing?”

She sighed, turning her gaze to him. “I’m going to show you how I heal. It doesn’t… I can’t actually do it to myself, which is why there’s scars.” She pointed at the scars with the tip of the knife. “I mean, I’ve tried to heal myself, but it always scars, see? But it never does on anyone else.”

Julian blinked at her, trying to process the words that came out of her mouth. “You… practiced this on yourself? By hurting yourself? Ella, that’s insane.”

Ella flushed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Well, most people aren’t okay with me cutting them just to practice healing. And I wasn’t doing it to hurt myself.”

“So do it to me.”

“What?”

“I trust you’re very good at what you do, even if I don’t understand it. I want you to show me, and I don’t want you doing it to yourself, especially if it’ll scar.” He rolled up one of his loose sleeves, presenting the pale skin of his forearm to her. She looked at him, uncertainty written across her face. 

“Julian, I’m not--”

Without waiting for her to finish, he took the knife out of her hands and pulled the blade across the thick skin below the crook of his arm, wincing only slightly as blood immediately began to blossom under the cut. The two of them watched as the blood dripped off his arm onto the floor beneath him.

“Well?” Julian looked at Ella, whose mouth was frozen open in surprise. “Are you going to show me what you can do?”

“What the fuck, Julian?” Ella snapped out of her shock, knocking over the wine bottle as she moved closer to wrap her cool hands around the cut, applying heavy pressure. “You didn’t need to do it so deep. Are you insane?”

Julian shrugged, watching her hands cover the wound. He felt a warm tingle around the area, then a subtle pulling sensation. The tingling spread from his arm to the rest of his body, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or the magic. The feeling wasn’t uncomfortable, just… strange. He turned his gaze from his arm to Ella, who was focused intently on her own hands, the corners of her mouth pulled down in concentration.

After a moment she removed her hands from his arm, wiping the remaining blood away with her thumb. Amazingly, the only indication there was ever a wound was the blood staining his skin and the small pool of it beneath him. Not a trace of a scratch or scar was present. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered under his breath. He turned his arm this way and that, looking for any sign of adverse effects to the magic. He glanced up at Ella, who looked far less impressed than he was.

“Yeah, holy shit, Julian.” Ella wiped the blood off her hands on the front of her dress, her voice still tinged with annoyance. “A small scratch would have done the job.”

“I’ve been told I have a flair for the dramatic,” Julian offered sheepishly, looking back down at his arm. After a moment, he looked up at Ella, her pretty mouth still pulled down in a frown. “And you can do something similar with illness?”

“Well, yeah. But it’s different. It’s a little more involved, and like I said, every illness is different.”

“Okay. We’ll try it.” Julian stood up, a little woozy from the slight buzz still running through his body.

“What?” She looked up at him, confused. 

“We’re going to try using your magic in treatments.”

Ella stood up, still frowning. “Are you sure?” 

He could hear the excitement and relief in her voice. He nodded, glancing back down at his arm. “Positive.” He carefully made his way around the puddle of blood and walked to the door. He paused, his hand resting on the handle of the door. “Thank you for showing me, Ella. You should get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before she could protest or respond, he pulled the door shut behind him. Once it was closed he leaned against it, looking back down at his arm. “Holy shit,” was all he could manage.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding On  Ch 6: It’s A Nice Day For A White Wedding

Summary: It’s Jake’s wedding day and poor Fliss appears to be the only sober one in the Circle Of Truth…and then that all important question is answered. Is Baby Adler Pink or Blue? (Place your bets, please!)

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW NO UNDER 18s!!) Also some pretty heavy anti-Trump ranting so if this offends anyone, sorry (but also not sorry… I think the guy is as much of a buffoon as Boris fcking Johnson)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Just so you know, I couldn’t decide whether to give them a boy or a girl…so I literally wrote both down on a piece of paper and picked. Also, I have to thank @southerngrace here for her idea on just how to reveal the news to Mary and their Family. Chapter Song: It’s All About You by Mc Fly (this one has ALWAYS screamed Friss at me, I’m not afraid to say it!)

Riding On Masterlist //  WIYPT Masterlist

And I would answer all your wishes, if you asked me to. But if you deny me one of your kisses, don’t know what I’d do. So hold me close and say three words like you used to do. Dancing on the kitchen tiles, yes you make my life worthwhile, so I told you with a smile, it’s all about you.

Bonnie and Fliss stood in the small room at the side, the crowd of people milling around between there and the outside patio area whilst the main room was set up for the party following the conclusion of the sit down reception.

"It was a nice meal." Bonnie smiled.

"Yeah, really thoughtful of them to have the non-alcoholic wine available" Fliss smiled. “Felt nice to taste something that made me feel like an adult again.”

She looked around and her gaze settled on Frank who was leaning against the bar, his red tie long discarded, collar of his dress shirt undone. He caught her eye, flashed her a smile and then turned back to Greg continuing their conversation.

"He hasn't taken his eyes off you all day." Bonnie smiled as Fliss turned back to her. "It's cute"

Fliss smiled "You know he got me flowers yesterday. When I got back from work he had already left to come up here and when I called him to ask what they occasion was he said he just felt like it." She paused "I get the feeling he is still trying to make up for Vegas but he doesn't need to. We're good."

Bonnie grinned. "Did he tell you what he actually said to the girl?"

"I don't think he remembers" Fliss shook her head.

"Si does. Apparently he said, and I quote 'why the fuck would I want a Big Mac when I got a prime fillet steak waiting for me at home?’ “

Fliss blinked, and then let out a huge snort of laughter which attracted the attention of a few people around them.

"How fucking rude"

"She deserved it by refusing to back off the first time. Ho." Bonnie shrugged.

"I don't mean that I mean him likening me to a piece of meat. Mind you, quite apt really..." she shrugged

"How so?"

"He is constantly fucking horny." Fliss dropped her voice "Not that I particularly mind but the last week or so he's been really, really bad. Take Thursday for example. I woke up to him poking me in the back so he got a blowjob before we got up, then he fucked me on the couch that evening when Mary had gone to bed and then when I woke up to go to the loo at 2 am we did it again."

Bonnie sniggered "Maybe you're giving off some kind of sex pheromone because you’re pregnant."

"I know you're joking but..." Fliss shrugged "He’s always had a high sex drive but since I started really showing he has gotten so much worse. I think he has some kind of breeding kink."

"Must be so hard being you..." Bonnie said sarcastically "Nice man that buys you flowers and can't keep his hands off you...”

"He is the one finding it hard not me" Fliss grinned and at that Bonnie tipped her head back laughing.

Frank heard his girl’s laughter from where he was stood and watched as she tipped her head back, attracting the attention of a few of the guests with her loud cackles. His eyes scanned down her frame and back up again, lingering slightly on the gentle curve of her bump just visible under her dress as it hung over her lower body. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant knot at the base of her neck, a few strands hanging loose around her face and her eyes were lidded with a light dusting of rose gold powder, making her brown irises pop even more. The necklace he had bought her a while back hung around her neck, settling just above her cleavage which looked fucking amazing in that dress.

The moment he had seen her earlier when she had arrived with Bonnie he’d felt the all too familiar stirring in his pants that he seemed to get every time he looked at her recently. His mouth had gone dry and he’d been totally ogling her, enough to cause Greg to slap him on his shoulder and tell him, jokingly, to stop being a pervert.

Frank hadn't replied. He’d waited long enough to allow himself to open up to someone so they could see the entire shit show he was. He was happy, more than happy in fact. So as for being a pervert where Fliss was concerned? Well, he had no intentions of stopping at all.

As he watched her now, aware he was once more staring at her, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and her hand went to her silver daisy pendant, gently twirling the silver chain in her fingers before she let go, pressing her hand over the pendant in the curve just above her breasts and that was it, he was done.

He wanted her, now.

Necking the short that Greg had passed him he patted his friend on his shoulder and told him he would be back shortly before striding over the room towards the two women. As he made his way over, dodging round a few people, he saw Fliss reached out and snatch Bonnie’s beer, taking a mouthful, letting out a groan of satisfaction. Bonnie’s eyes flew to him as he approached and he put a finger over his lips, telling her to be quiet.

“Pretty sure you ain’t supposed to have that…” Bonnie chastised, her eyes flicking back to Fliss as she took the bottle back.

“One mouthful won’t hurt.” Fliss replied, her shoulders rising in a shrug. “I always take a swig of Frank’s before I hand it to him…just don’t tell him.”

“Too late.” he leaned down and said in her ear, causing her to shriek slightly and jump as his hands settled on her hips, beard tickling her cheek and neck.

“Fuck! Fran, what you trying to do, send me into early labour?” she tilted her head to look over her shoulder at him before she glared at Bonnie “You could have warned me.”

Bonnie shrugged and grinned as she walked off. Fliss wrinkled her nose and turned in Frank’s arms, looking up at him sheepishly

“That was naughty.” he teased and she grinned a little.

“It was one mouthful…”

“I’m only teasing.” he smiled, dropping his mouth to hers in a sweet kiss and she sighed. He tasted of scotch and the cheesecake that they’d had for desert. “I told you before, one glass or one bottle won’t hurt if you want one.” “No, I don’t.” she shrugged “Just wanted a little taste that’s all.”

“Yeah well, now I want a taste of something.” “What are you talking about?”

“I want you.” he said, his mouth by her ear and he felt her still slightly, her breath hitching and he grinned, planting a soft kiss to the crook of her shoulder. He knew the effect those words had on her, being wanted as opposed to needed, it was a subtle difference, but one he knew meant something to her, and him for that matter.

“What, now?” she looked at him as he pulled away, glancing around the room before he looked back down at her.

“Right now.” he nodded.

“You’re serious.”

“Deadly.” he looked at her, “What’s the Ladies bathroom like?”

“You wanna do me in the ladies?” she deadpanned as he tugged her hand and pulled her away from the crowded foyer towards the bathroom.

“Yup.” he said, checking around once more to see if anyone was watching, before he opened the door and nudged her back gently with his hand so she entered the room in front of him.

“Wow, romantic, Frank.” Fliss said sarcastically as she arched an eyebrow, turning to face him.

“I’m being spontaneous….” he said, backing into the cubicle and pulling her with him, reaching round to lock the stall door.

“There’s nothing spontaneous about you wanting to jump my bones” she looked up at him as her purse clattered to the floor, “You’re constantly after a bit at the moment.”

“Can you blame me Sweetheart?” he whined, looking down at her, his eye-line trained on her cleavage “You turn up…looking like that…been killing me sat next to you all afternoon. Frankie has needs.”

“My face is up here jackass!”

“I know.” he said, his gaze not moving “I was talking to Ben and Jerry.”

“Ben and Jerry.” Fliss scoffed “You named my boobs?”

“Only since they got bigger.” he grinned as his eyes moved back to hers

“Why Ben and Jerry?” she asked as his hands gripped at her hips.

“Because they’re delicious and soft like ice cream.”

Fliss snorted and he grinned at her, his eyes glazed slightly.

“You’re drunk” she stated.

“Nah ah, it’s hormones.” he said seriously.

“No.” Fliss laughed “I’m pretty sure you’re drunk. I saw you, Simon and Greg before, all necking from the hipflasks you each have in your pocket whilst they were taking the photos.” “Yeah, but.” Frank shook his head “I aint that drunk. Scouts honour.” “Like you were ever in the scouts.” she laughed, her hand brushing through his hair.

“Actually I was, you can ask the mothership.” he assured her “They kicked me out after 5 months thought. I made rude words out of a load of string that we were supposed to be using to mark out a flower bed at the old people’s home.”

Fliss let out a groan “Bean is gonna be a monster.”

“No they won’t” he shook his head “Gonna be sweet…” he placed a kiss to her lips. “…and gentle, just like their mamma bear.”

His hand moved to cup her cheek, fingers grazing her neck as he pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss quickly became heated and Frank pressed up against her, the door to the cubicle rattling slightly, neither of them paying it much attention. His other hand grabbed a fist full of her dress, and he was just hoisting the tulle layers up when the noise of voices hit their ear as the door to the bathroom opened. They both stopped dead, and Fliss bit her lip to stop herself from laughing as Frank grinned down at her, his finger flying to his lips as his shoulders shook with his silent sniggers. A few doors down the cubicle door opened and they waited for whoever it was to finish. Eventually the toilet flushed and the door unlocked, before the tap began to run.

“I’d hurry up you guys…” Bonnie spoke, amusement in her tone as Frank and Fliss looked at each other, “You’ve been gone 10 minutes already.” At that Fliss burst out giggling as Frank snorted and his face dropped to Fliss shoulder where he pressed a kiss to her skin, his lips sliding up to her neck, gently nipping beneath her ear, his hands fondling her breasts over her dress. She gave a low groan and he smirked against her skin.

“Still don’t wanna?” he teased and she shook her head.

“Fine, just…get on with it then you twat.” she mumbled into his ear and he looked at her, grinning.

“I love it when you swear in British baby.”

“I can talk dirty in British too…” she quipped.

Frank gave a groan, slanting his mouth on hers as he pulled her with him, her fingers undoing his belt and trousers, pushing them down with his boxers over his hips, before he sat down on the closed toilet, taking himself in his hand and pumping himself a few times until he was rock hard as she leaned down, kissing him.

“Turn round…” he said against her mouth and she did as she was told. His hands bunched her skirt up to her hips and she reached down to move it of the way as he grabbed her hips and pulled her down, shifting her underwear to one side. In a fluid moment she sank down onto him, both of them letting out soft moans as Frank’s arm circled her waist protectively around her bump as she tipped her head back against his shoulders, his hips moving upwards.

She ground down on him, rotating her hips and he let her set the pace, more than happy to simply sit there, holding her, trailing sloppy kisses over the exposed skin on her back. The hand that wasn’t round her waist moved up to the front of her dress, slipping inside the low plunge neck line to her bra-les breast, rolling her nipple softly causing her to shudder and push down on him further.

“Fuck, Lissy…” he groaned, his forehead pressing on her shoulder “Feel so good baby girl..”

Her response was a low pant of his name as her hips moved faster, snapping back and forth as she pushed down even further, seeking out the friction she desperately needed. Her head tilted and he caught her mouth in a sloppy kiss, swallowing another moan as she pushed down further, his hands pulling her onto his lap as he fucked up into her over and over.

It was dirty, quick and in his many times with women he wasn’t quite sure he’d fucked anyone in a bathroom before, certainly an alley way or two, a dark corner of parking lot too, but it didn’t matter either way as he was damned sure it wouldn’t have been as good as this, the woman who was carrying his baby, the woman he loved with all his heart bouncing on his lap as they both raced to their ends. As Fliss tightened down, her head rolling back, she parted her lips and let out a low keen as Frank’s hand gently moved upwards, his fingers caressing the font of her throat as he held her against him, turning her head towards his so he could catch her mouth in a filthy kiss as he pushed up for a final time and came with a grunt. They both sat still for a while before he gave a little hum as Fliss chuckled as his hands wrapped around her, resting on her bump.

“You’re a bad man.” she mumbled and he grinned, giving her a quick kiss.

“Yeah but I’m your bad man.”

With a snort Fliss stood up and Frank rearranged himself, standing up and pulling up his pants. With another soft kiss Fliss told him to go out ahead of her whilst he sorted herself out so as not to attract too much attention to where they had been, even though she was pretty sure Bonnie had already told their friends.

Telling her he would meet her at the bar, with a final peck to her lips Frank headed out of the cubicle. He quickly checked his appearance in the mirror and once he’d straightened his suit and smoothed his hair down slightly he pulled the door open to be met with a round of applause as Simon and Greg stood by the pillar outside the bathroom, both grinning as they clapped.

Frank grinned as simply took a bow before the three of them laughed and Greg slapped him on the back as the three of them headed to the bar.

***** “Welcome to the dance floor….” The DJ’s voice rang out over the room “The new Mr and Mrs Neill…”

Jake swept Lisa out onto the floor and Fliss smiled, watching a the woman’s dress billowed out behind her and he took her into a hold as the opening bars to Signed, Sealed Delivered by Stevie Wonder rang out. Jake began to twirl Lisa around, the pair of them laughing a various people took photos, recording. Frank dropped a kiss to the side of Fliss’ temple and she smiled as his fingers curled around her hip.

“They look so happy.” Fliss smiled.

“Yeah.” Frank nodded “Good job really, seeing as they just got married.”

Fliss smiled and then there were some giggles as Jake and Lisa’s young girls ran onto the dancefloor to join their parents, which gave the couple the signal to wave everyone else in to join them.

“Shall we?” Frank asked, turning to face Fliss and she grinned.

“Lead the way Sailor.”

They stepped out onto the dancefloor where Frank gently took her left hand in his right, his other hand curling round her back, fingers splaying at the bottom of her spint.

“Can’t pull you quite as close as I’d like.” he quipped glancing down and Fliss shook her head as she looked at him, a soft smile spread across his face “You’re beautiful.” “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.” she smiled as he twirled her around the floor, his movements upbeat in time with the song. He was actually a pretty good dancer, which Fliss knew already from the various times they’d been out, but it never failed to make her smile the way he could move so gracefully for such a tall, broad shouldered man. When she had passed comment on it once he had grinned and informed he that it was ‘all in the hips’, hips that were now easily snaking side to side as he moved in time with the music, stepping back from her a little, his hands taking hers. Fliss laughed, simply dancing along with him and eventually the music changed into another upbeat song. The pair of them stayed were they were, dancing with their friends and enjoying themselves until after about 20 minutes or so Fliss declared she was out, and needed the bathroom again before she was going to sit down.

“To pee this time, right?” Bonnie called after her. Fliss didn’t even look back, simply raised her finger up over her shoulder as she left the dancefloor.

Once she had washed her hands she touched up her make-up, glancing at her cheeks which were quite flushed from the heat and the dancing, before she headed out. Frank was waiting for her by the door.

“People will talk, you hanging around outside the Ladies.” she grinned.

“Only one lady for me.” he winked back and she shook her head.

“Smooth.” “I try.” he grinned, kissing her cheek “Wanna get a drink?”

“Yeah.” she smiled, slipping her hand in his as he led her over to the bar.

Frank ordered himself a beer, deciding he needed to take a break from the hard-stuff and Fliss a water. As she took it from him with a thanks she glanced around watching everyone dancing and milling around, cocking her head to one side, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Penny for em.” Frank said and she turned to look at him smiling.

“Nothing of interest really.” she mused “Just thinking about all this. It’s been a nice day and a lovely ceremony and clearly what Lisa and Jake wanted but…” “Not what you want.” Frank smiled “Yeah, I know.” “But what about you?” she asked, looking at him. “I know we joke about how I’ve been there and done it but…” “Liss.” he cut her off, his hand curling round her hip. “Do you really think that all this showy shit is my style?”

“No, not really.”

“Exactly.” he smiled at her “I told you, I’d be happy to run away, me, you and Mary and do it with just the 3 of us there. But I’d probably get lynched by your mom and dad so…” He pulled her into his side closer, dropping a kiss to his head “It can be whatever we want it to be.”

We.

That word hit her hard, because her last wedding had been all about how her stupid bastard of a husband wanted to show the world how rich and special he was. There wasn’t a thing about that day she had chosen for herself, including her dress and her bridesmaids. She looked up at Frank, her eyes clouding slightly and he chuckled, shaking his head at her sudden emotion.

“Come on, let’s go sit down.” he smirked, nodding to a table at the side of the room where Simon was just taking a seat. Fliss nodded and allowed him to lead her over.

As is usually the case with weddings, people flit around all over the place. Fliss found herself dancing again with Bonnie, then talking to a few of Jake’s old school friends, then to some of Lisa’s friends, one of whom had her own horse so they got caught up in a lengthy chat about show-jumping and before long she realised she’d been away from Frank for well over an hour without realising. She finished up the conversation and headed back to where he was sat at a table, animatedly discussing something with a white haired gentleman, Bonnie watching him with a slightly amused expression.

"The guy is a fahking melt..." Fliss heard Frank groan as he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

"Who is he talking about?" Fliss asked as she sat down next to Bonnie.

"Trump" Bonnie replied, grinning.

"Oh this should be fun..." Fliss smirked, and Bonnie nodded.

"The guy he is talking to is apparently a big fan..." she turned to face Fliss, "But he's yet to give any kind of pro- Trump argument which Frank deems worthy of consideration. Oh, and Frank is getting more Boston with every sentence.”

“Yeah he does that.” Fliss she said, fondly turning her attention to Frank who shook his head and wrinkled his nose.

"You're being disrespectful." The man who Frank was talking to shook his head "He's our president."

Frank scoffed "Disrespectful? Not really, I just find it beyond comprehension that this country elected such a damaged, sociopathic narcissist."

"Say what you mean Frank." Bonnie nodded sagely and Fliss bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. Frank was in full flow, however, and fuelled by the amount of alcohol in his system he wasn't about to stop any time soon.

"John Oliver hit the nail on the head." he continued, necking the last of his beer. "Trump could be drowning in the damned ocean and he'd there, waving the lifeboats away screaming 'get out of here, I'm very buoyant, I'm the most buoyant. Everybody talks about my buoyancy... I'm a tremendous floater' ...fahkin jack-ass."

"Who got Frankie boy talking about Trump?" Simon asked, placing the tray of drinks down and handing them out. Fliss took her Sprite with a thanks as he slid a short tumbler of scotch over the white table cloth to Frank, before flopping down on the other side of Bonnie, dropping a kiss to her cheek. Bonnie nodded to the gentleman who was now saying something back, to which Frank let out a lout guffaw of laughter as Greg settled into a seat a few down from Fliss.

Simon grinned "Come on Jack!" he spoke and the man turned to face him "It's a wedding, no politics."

"I only stated I happened to agree with his policy of putting American's first..." the man held his hands up.

"And I only pointed out that his misguided beliefs that migrants are to blame for all of America's ills are exactly that, misguided." Frank shrugged, shooting a wink at Fliss as he reached for the glass of amber liquid in front of him. "People should look closer to home...at the people who run the damnedcountry, not everyone in it merely tryin'a make a living..."

"His policies made sense when I read them..." the man called Jack shrugged. “Well thought out, articulate…” At that Frank leaned back, shaking his head, an unbelieving smile on his face as he gave a groan “Articulate…come on…”

"You kniow..." Bonnie leaned forward "A random monkey hitting keys for an infinite amount of time will eventually come up with the works of Shakespeare" she swallowed the rest of her drink. "All Trump really needs to be considered one of the greatest Presidents of all times is an infinite amount of time and a monkey that can type."

At that Frank snorted into his glass and reached over the table, holding his hand up. Grinning Bonnie hi-fived him and Simon, Greg and Fliss exchanged a glance, before Fliss leaned forward.

"You know how they measure horses in hands." she said and Frank turned his attention to his girl, his eyes shining "well he must have the biggest horses on the planet." she said, making a claw like gesture with her right hand and Frank let out another loud bellow of laughter, his hand flying to his stomach.

"And why are his eye sockets always white?" Greg asked, looking into his glass like it held the answer before he glanced round at them all. "Like, you think someone would tell him to use the sunbed without the goggles every once in a while..."

At that Jack shook his head and stood up, walking away.

"Something we said?" Bonnie asked, innocently as Simon leaned back in his chair and spoke, his talent for impressions ringing out across the table as he imitated the President's voice perfectly "I'm going to build a wall, and it will be the greatest wall ever known to man, even better than China's...my time as President will go down in history as being part of America's dumbass years, the most dumbass years ever..."

As the 5 of them laughed, Jake plopped down at the table, pointing at Simon, then Frank then Greg.

"No politics at my wedding, bitches."

"We're not talking politics..." Frank hiccupped slightly "We were just roasting the cheeto skinned, toupee wearing prick."

"His dad should have definitely wiped him on a curtain." Greg nodded, causing everyone at the table to laugh once more.

"All that sperm and he got there the quickest." Simon sighed "Makes me wanna cry."

"You know what is gonna make you cry?" Jake looked at him "My foot up your ass. Come on guys, this is my fucking wedding. Let’s go do shots and rip up the dancefloor!"

"Oooh...shots..." Bonnie nodded, standing up.

"What happened to taking it easy in solidarity?" Fliss narrowed her eyes at her, patting her bump.

"I'm weak." Bonnie shrugged as Simon tugged her to the bar, Greg rising to follow them.

"Frank?" Jake asked

"I'll pass." he smiled

"I could get em to make you an apple juice shooter?" Jake offered as he patted Fliss' shoulder. She flipped him the bird as he walked off, chuckling to himself.

Frank pause for a moment, taking in his girl's slightly flushed cheeks before he stood up, grabbing his glass which contained what was left of his short, and rounded the table to sit next to her.

"C'mere..." he said, patting his knee. She stood up and settled on his lap, his arm curling round her waist, fingers brushing the side of her bump "You ok?"

"Yeah." she smiled "Which is more than you're gonna be in the morning."

"I'll live" he smirked, necking the rest of his liquor. "No one has ever died from a hangover Sweetheart."

"There's time." she smiled and he grinned up at her, placing his glass on the table.

"How's Bean?"

"Cooking." she grinned

"And Momma bear?"

"You asked me that a few seconds ago."

"And I'm asking again."

"In that case I'm still fine." she grinned leaning down to give him a peck. Frank smiled at her as she leaned back, his hand brushing her hip as he looked around the room.

"I wanna get married." he said, looking back to Fliss.

"We are."

"No, I mean like actually do it." he smiled "I wanna set a date."

"Don't you think we have enough to organise?" Fliss chuckled "Finding a house seeing as you're so adamant you want to move before Bean arrives..."

"They need a nursery." he pouted and Fliss smiled, running her hands through his hair.

"So you tell me." she replied "And then there's actually a small matter of me giving birth..."

"Piece of cake..."

"Oh really?" she looked at him "How about you squeeze a bowling bowl out of your vagina and then tell me it's easy..."

Frank laughed and grinned up at her "You'll be amazing...you always are." he placed a kiss to her bare shoulder. "But seriously...don't you wanna marry me?" he pouted.

"No, I just took this ring because it was shiny." Fliss rolled her eyes at him "Of course I do."

"Well...couldn't we just like pick a month...so...I have some kind of marker in the sand?"

Fliss looked at him as he turned his puppy dog eyes on her and she shook her head, giving a soft huff

"You're such a soft bastard when you're drunk."

He shrugged "I can't help it. You make me feel things."

"And I don't when you're sober?" she teased.

"Shut up." he looked at her and she grinned, running her hand through the whiskers on his face. His beard was now actually pretty impressive as he'd let it grow out properly, it was way beyond the untidy, short stubble it had been when she'd first met him. But then again he was also quite far removed from that fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, lost and damaged man he had been. He'd grown, a lot. And so had she. He knew it, she knew it...and the fact they had done it together made it all the more meaningful and special.

"September." Fliss smiled "Next year. Bean will be 1 by then and things will have settled. Think you can wait that long?"

Frank beamed at her "Yeah? You mean it?"

She nodded.

"Then September 2020 it is." his lips stayed curled up at the side as she dipped her head again and pressed her mouth to his. She pulled back, and found herself mimicking the infectious smile on his face. "I can't wait to make you Mrs Adler." he whispered.

"Who says I'm changing my name?" She teased and he frowned a moment before he shrugged.

"I just assumed..."he began to back track "I mean if you don't want..."

"Frankie..." Fliss cut him off, her hands cupping his face "I'm joking. I can't wait to have the same surname as you, Mary and our little one."

"God I fahkin love you..." he spluttered and she laughed, leaning back a little bit. At that point the opening bars to Hungry Like The Wolf hit their ears and Fliss heard Bonnie shriek her name.

"Miami BITCHES, HOLLERRRR!" Simon yelled as he leaned on the back of Frank's chair.

"Shall we?" Fliss asked, standing up. Frank grinned, took her hand and allowed her to pull him onto the dancefloor. As she began to dance and laugh with Bonnie his hand fell to her hips, pulling her back against him, just like he had done all those months ago in Miami, before everything had taken such a huge change in direction. A dramatic change, but a change he was loving day by day. As he felt her push back slightly against his groin he gave a low groan and bent over.

“Stop it or I’ll be dragging you off to the bathroom again.”

She tilted her head, looked at him all doe eyed and innocent and he shook his head, arching and eyebrow.

“Ok, ok, I’m sorry.” she spluttered and he rolled his eyes before she turned round to carry on dancing, this time behaving herself.

As it was getting later into the evening, after a few more 80s hits the music took a turn and dimmed into something softer, and Fliss cocked her head to the side as Frank reached out to her, pulling her to him.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It’s called God Gave Me You.” Frank said, his fingers curing around hers “By Blake Shelton. He’s a Country singer.”

“Ohh, the dude that’s with Gwen Stefani.” Fliss nodded.

“Yeah, I heard it for the first time in ages in the truck the other day.” Frank said “When we went to Tampa.”

“I thought it sounded familiar.”

He smiled, refraining from telling her he’d been playing it on a damned loop for days since because every time he heard it, it simply reminded him of her.

As he steered her around, he became lost in the lyrics, not really paying attention to anything but realising how much they stuck home, how they were true to what he felt about Fliss. How he had been a mess until she’d appeared and given him everything he didn’t even realise he needed and more. How she had fit so perfectly into his and Mary’s life. How she was now carrying his child. How he would always love her…

He felt her squeeze his hand and he looked down and she was grinning at him.

“You’re singing.”

“Am I?” he asked, giving a soft chuckle “Sorry, I didn’t realise…”

“Don’t worry about it, no one else heard. Besides you have a good voice, not like mine.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything but the other day when you were singing in the shower Mary thought Fred was stuck somewhere and crying to get out.” Fliss laughed and shook her head “Yeah it isn’t one of my talents. I’ll leave it to you.”

He smiled and gave her a soft kiss.

“You singing it to me or Bean?” Fliss asked, smiling at him as he twirled them round slightly.

“Without you there would be no Bean.” He shrugged simply and at his words he saw her eyes misting over.

“Frankie…” she muttered and he chuckled slightly, his hands cupping her face.

“Baby, what’s…”

“That’s so sweet and…” she spluttered shaking her head “Fucking hormones”

He laughed and pulled her closer, still swaying to the music and she let out a sight. Frank felt her sagging a little in his arms and then it struck him. It was almost midnight. She had been up since 8, they’d been out at this wedding one way or another for almost 12 hours now and she was 5 months pregnant.

“You tired honey?” he asked and she shook her head where it was pressed against his chest. “Liar.” he kissed her head softly.

“Ok maybe a little.” she looked up at him

“Wanna go?”

“It’s still early.” she looked at him. “I don’t mind if you want to stay, I can go and-“

“Absolutely not.” he shook his head “It’s half 11 now and I’ve drunk more than enough…Jake and Lisa won’t mind.”

“You sure?”

“Course. I’ll go get call us a cab.”

When he came back Fliss was at the table gathering her purse and his jacket. They made their rounds, said good bye to their friends and Frank led his girl out into the starry sky hand in hand.

*****

All things considered, on the Sunday morning Frank woke fairly clear headed, which Fliss pointed out shouldn’t have happened with how much he had drunk. They had a lazy morning before they headed home to pick Mary up, who was full of beans about how Steve had taken her out playing mini-golf the previous afternoon. They stayed for dinner at Bill and Verity’s before they made their way home along with the 4-legged fur babies and it wasn’t long before all 3 of them crashed out, the exertion of the weekend catching up on them all.

Monday and Tuesday seemed to drag by for Frank, and there was a reason. On Wednesday they finally got to find out what Bean was. Their scan was in the afternoon and Mary once again wanted to come, especially as she knew she would find out whether it was gonna be a girl or a boy that joined their little family in roughly 19 weeks or so time. Once more she was ignored and packed off to school with a frown on her face.

Frank was like a coiled spring all morning. The guys at work teased him relentlessly about how he was bounding around the place like Tigger on cocaine but he didn’t care. He was beyond excited to find out whether they were going to have a son or daughter. At exactly 12 he finished work and headed home. Fliss was already waiting for him having changed and showered and chatting excitedly they hopped in his truck and headed to the hospital. They were early so went to grab a drink at the coffee shop- Fliss having been told to drink plenty of water as it would help with the scan, and then when they had 15 minutes to their appointment they headed up.

“Miss Gallagher, Mr Adler.” Dr Kent smiled at them as they walked in “Nice to see you again.”

They both greeted her and Fliss settled on the bed, getting herself comfortable as Frank slid into the chair by her side. After answering the questions the Doctor asked her about how she was feeling, whether she was worried about anything, all the time Frank trying to pay attention but his mind was on one thing and one thing only. Seeing his baby again.

And when that time finally came, his heart skipped a beat. On the 3D scan there was so much more detail to take in this time. He could make out the little nose, the ears, eyelashes…fucking eyelashes. A tiny hand curled by its face which twitched as their baby move slightly.

“It says here that you want to know what it is…” Doctor said, looking at them both “Is that still the case.”

“Yeah…” Frank said, at the same time Fliss spluttered.

“No, I mean yes… “

Frank frowned “Liss? I thought…” “Could you write it down for us?” Fliss cut him off, smiling at the doctor.

“Ahh you doing a gender reveal?” The woman nodded, and Frank’s frown grew deeper. They hadn’t discussed that.” Not a problem…”

The doctor looked at the screen and Frank glanced at Fliss questioningly but she softly shook her head at him and squeezed his hand, telling him silently to trust her. The Doctor smiled, and headed off to write the results down and a soon as she had left the room, Frank turned to Fliss

“What are you doing?”

“I just had a thought…” Fliss took a deep breath “that if we do it this way, you know get it written down to open later, then Mary can be there with us when we find out.”

And once again, just like that, her fucking thoughtfulness knocked him sideways. He blinked and shook his head, smiling as he brought his eyes back up to meet hers “You’re fucking amazing you know that?” Of course the only thing wrong with her plan was that they now had to wait another 3 hours for Mary to come home.

Frank collected her from the bus stop and as usual was greeted by the grumblings that she was perfectly capable of walking home across the little park on her own, to which he shot back his usual I don’t care response. She walked into the apartment with her usual swagger, tossing her bag over the back of the sofa before she wandered into the kitchen where Fliss was stood chopping up salad for dinner

“So.”  she said, dramatically “You gonna tell me then or what?”

Frank looked at Fliss who smiled before he spoke “Actually, you’re gonna tell us.”

“What?” she looked at him

“You’re gonna tell us what it is.” he repeated.

“Like how?” she rolled her eyes “I wasn’t even there.”

“We got the Doctor to write it down.” Fliss explained, “And seal it in an envelope.” Mary’s eyes widened “You mean…you guys don’t know?” Frank shook his head “Fliss thought it would be nice for all 3 of us to find out together.”

She looked at him, then to Fliss, her blue eyes filling with tears a she ran to Frank, her arms circling his waist.

“Hey…” he chuckled, crouching down and looking her in the face, his hand brushing her hair back slightly as she sniffed and gave a watery laugh “We good?”

She nodded and smiled “Where is it? The envelope I mean.”

“On the coffee table.”  he said, kissing her forehead.

“Can we do it now?”

“I hope so.” Frank said, looking up at Fliss “Been waiting all damned afternoon.”

“Oh hush.” Fliss replied as he stood up, Mary in his arms.

“You know you’re getting kinda big now Stack.” he grunted a little as he shifted her onto his hip.

“You’re still bigger.” she said as he dropped her down onto the floor in the living room.  She looked at the envelope and when Fliss nodded at her she picked it up.

“You know…” she mused, looking at Frank “If I open this that technically means that I was the first person to know. Well, other than the doctor…but they don’t count.” Frank looked at Fliss as his arm slid round her waist. “Yeah..” he turned back to Mary “Pretty cool, huh?” She grinned at him and took a deep breath “Ok…here goes….”

Frank felt his heart suddenly become quicker in his chest as he watched Mary pull open the envelope and look at the small slip of paper inside. She read the words, looked at them both, her eyes shining.

“Wow…” she breathed out.

“You’re killing us Stack!” Frank spluttered “What the hell is it?”

“It’s a boy!”

There was a pause and Frank blinked. “What?” he breathed out and looked at Mary “Are you sure?”

“I can read, Frank?” she narrowed her eyes at him, handing him the piece of paper. With a shaking hand he took ait and looked down at the words the doctor had written on them. As he read them, “Congratulations, it’s a Boy!” they suddenly registered in his brain and he looked at Fliss who had tears in her eyes. His own eyes misted over and a huge grin spread across his face.

“Lissy, it’s a boy!”

She gave a laugh as his arms wrapped around her and he kissed the side of her head.

“Happy Sailor?” she asked.

“I can’t…wow!” he chuckled, sniffing slightly, unable to form any other words. He moved one of his arms and signalled for Mary to join them and she rushed forwards, her arms wrapping around his waist as he dropped his hand to her back, gently rubbing between her shoulder blades.

A boy. A little boy.

Although he truly would have been happy either way, as long as their baby was healthy, he’d secretly always hoped the colour would be blue. They had Mary already, and from a selfish point of view had wanted a boy to even the numbers out. Not to mention the fact he was already envisaging matching baseball caps, sneakers, sailing days, basketball, football…

He looked at Fliss who gave him a smile and his face split into an even wider grin and he leaned over to give her a kiss before his hand dropped to the side of her bump, gently skating the place where his son was growing.

***** Frank wanted to shout their news from the roof tops. But Fliss forbid him from telling anyone until they told the family first. As Evelyn would be here for the weekend they decided to have a BBQ on the Saturday evening, and share their news then. And Mary and Fliss came up with the perfect way to do it.

Evelyn arrived in town on the Friday afternoon and due to her new found ‘friendship’ (if you could call it that) with Fliss’ parents since that fateful thanksgiving in Boston, she was staying with them. Her first comment upon seeing them all was how much Fliss had bloomed since her last visit a few months ago. Fliss had grinned and commented that she felt like a hippo to which Evelyn had snorted and told her to stop being ridiculous. The 4 of them went for dinner that evening to the Italian in town that Mary liked and on the Saturday Bill dropped her at the stables to see Mary ride. Mary had now moved on from the cross poles to a foot high straight upright jump, and she was easily taking it all in her stride. Frank had long since given up trying to talk her out of it. She enjoyed it, and it was hard to deny she was pretty good at it too. Saturday afternoon they all went back to the apartment where Evelyn, Fliss and Mary whipped up some cupcake batter…something which floored Frank. He couldn’t remember his mother baking, ever. Once the cakes were cooked however, Evelyn was unceremoniously barred from the kitchen whilst Fliss and Mary put the final touches to their Gender Reveal plans. At one point Mary burst out of the kitchen telling Evelyn to look away, and as Frank looked up from where he and his mother had been glancing at a few realtor pages and properties in the local area, he could instantly see why. She had blue food colouring all over her face and hands.

Later that night Verity, Steve, Bill and Roberta joined them and after a few drinks Mary handed out the cupcakes.

“Now, you have to eat them at the same time.” she instructed “Because the colour in the middle will tell you if the baby is gonna be a boy or a girl.”

“Did you make these?” Steve looked at Fliss. She nodded.

“And no, there’s nothing special in them…” she told him and he smirked “Other than the buttercream.”

As everyone eagerly began to dig into their cakes, desperate to find out, Mary skipped over to where Frank and Fliss were stood at the side of the kitchen steps, standing in front Frank as his arm dropped looping around her chest, pulling her back towards him a little. “A boy?” Verity shrieked, the first to find her splodge of blue cream in the middle of her cake as she looked over at them all.

“Yeah!” Fliss smiled, Frank’s other arm tossed casually round her shoulder.

“God help ya’ll, a mini Frank!” Roberta quipped and he shot her a glare before the rest of the crowd of people erupted into cheers and laughter. There were a lot of hugs shared and then Mary stepped over to Bill and Steve, holding her hand out.

“Pay up, losers.”

“Yeah…Dad can you sub me?” Steve asked, “I left my wallet at home” “Course you did.” Bill grumbled as he reached into his pocket. Retrieving a twenty from his wallet he handed it to Mary.

“Erm…what are you doing?”  Frank asked, having watched the exchanged.

“Last week when you were at the wedding we were talking about it and I bet them it was a boy.” Mary shrugged “I had a hunch” “And now she has twenty bucks.” Bill grumbled as Fliss gave a loud laugh.

“No she doesn’t.” Frank put his hands on his hips “Give it back.”

“No way.” she pouted “I earned that.” “You’re 9.” Frank shot back “You know it’s illegal for 9 year olds to gamble, Mary.”

“What you gonna do Frank?” Fliss asked as Mary folded the money and sticking it in her pocket “Call the feds?”

Bill and Steve both sniggered as Frank looked at Fliss before he shook his head and turned back to Mary.

“How exactly were you gonna pay if you lost?” he folded his arms. “I was planning on winning it back by betting on the name.” she shrugged.

“Double or quits.” Steve nodded in agreement.

“Stop encouraging her.” Frank pointed at him.

“Relax…” Frank heard Evelyn chuckle a little and he turned to face her, where she was sat at the outside table with Verity and Roberta “You’re in dad mode already.” “I’ve been in dad mode for the last 8 and a half years.” he shot back before he felt his eyes widen slightly.

“I know…” his mother gave him a soft smile. “Believe me.”

Fliss hand tightened around his for a second and he looked down at her, giving her a quick peck.

“I’m gonna get another beer.” he said, suddenly needing the head space. “You want anything?” “No.” Fliss smiled at him as he walked off.

Truth was he’d shocked himself a little. That was the first time he’d ever referred to his role with Mary as being a dad out loud to anyone but her or Fliss. Truth be told, he was a little worried about how she was going to react once Bean was born and how they were going to try to keep her feeling as included as they could, especially when he started talking and referring to him and Fliss as Mom and Dad, when Mary didn’t. He ran a hand over his face, opening the fridge. It was an unorthodox situation, but…well, he knew full well there were worse circumstances Mary could be in.

“She wouldn’t mind you know.” a voice jerked him from his thoughts and Frank spun to face his mother

“Who?” he frowned. “Diane.” she reached past him for the bottle of wine in the fridge “Fliss told me that’s why you get so pissy about people referring to you as Mary’s father.” “I’m not pissy about it, I’m just not her father.”

“You are in every other way bar legally being labelled as so, Frank.” Evelyn poured herself a drink “And moreover, Diane’s memory isn’t going to suddenly fade away if you were.”

“What are you-“

She levelled him with a look and simply handed him the bottle back before she picked up her glass and headed off leaving him pondering her words. With a shake of his head, deciding that was a discussion for another day, he grabbed another bottle of beer and headed back outside.

“Hey Frank!” Roberta’s shout stopped him in his tracks as stood at the top of the steps and looked over at her. “You gonna cook anything on this BBQ or what? Been waiting so damned long my clothes are goin outta fashion.” “That’s assuming they were in fashion in the first place!” Mary grinned, skipping past Frank as he walked onto the lawn, tossing a ball for Fred as he scooted off after it, Thor following.

At that Steve snorted. Roberta looked at him

“Oh hark on the British boy in board shorts.”

Steve’s response was a cheeky wink “I have been reliably informed you like men in board shorts Roberta. Do I not meet your standards?” he gave a little twirl, his arms held out to his side, a grin on his face. “I’ve seen worse.” she mused, causing Steve and Bill to tip their heads back in almost identical roars of laugher. “You ever fancy yourself a sugar momma you know where to come lookin’ honey.”

“You know, if we’re discussing questionable clothing choices…” Fliss looked up, her eyes locking onto Frank’s before she glanced at Mary “I have something to say about someone’s shirts.”

Mary let out a lout hoot of laughter as did Roberta and Frank looked at Fliss as she grinned.

With a shake of his head and a soft snort of laughter as he looked around at his family, he headed to the BBQ.

[angelicdestieldemon]

Christmas Party (Day 6 of Christmas)

Request: [AU] where olivia takes noah to the nypd christmas party and meets barba for the first time

SHIP: Barson

Requests are open for the next 19 days, I write for Barson, Bangan, Barisi and potentially other Rafael Barba ships (even other Raúl Esparza characters too), just talk to me on asks or private messages.

NYPD Christmas Parties weren’t Olivia Benson’s thing, she would rather have a quiet night in a bar with her squad or be at home with Noah than have to make small talk with people who usually spend their days making her job harder than it needs to be.

But unfortunately, the invitation to the party was merely a formality, having been informed in advance by her superiors that she would be attending. The only upside of the night was that she could bring Noah, according to Carisi due to it being so close to Christmas a lot of those being forced to attend the party were struggling to get childcare, and the commissioner decided that the perfect way to prevent anyone getting too drunk was if there were children around.

While Olivia was dreading the whole evening, Noah was very excited. He liked to help his mum get dressed up when she went out with Amanda for a girl’s night and had a very good eye for fashion for a four-year-old. His colour choices always seemed a little out there, but Olivia couldn’t say no to her son and so would try on his picks anyway only to realise how well they actually worked.

However, as excited as Noah was to help his mother pick out a nice outfit for the party, he was most excited to go shopping for his own outfit. This was one of the first formal occasions Noah would get to experience that included more than their close-knit found family and if Olivia was getting to dress up nice and fancy, why shouldn’t Noah.

---

Noah wanted to match with his mum, who would be wearing a dark green dress, modest enough for a work event but still flattering if there were photos taken, and so they decided a little green suit would be nice.

The first few shops they tried Noah didn’t like anything, however on the way out of the third one, Noah accidentally ran into a tall, incredibly well-dressed woman with an expression that Olivia almost found intimidating. Olivia was about to step in and apologise for Noah, but her son was already way ahead of her.

“I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you, I just like the colour of your blazer,” Noah apologises, staring up at the woman before looking back at his mother. “Mama, that’s the sort of green I want to wear.”

The woman looks between them before walking over to Olivia, using a come-hither motion to draw Noah over with her.

“What sort of clothes are you looking for?” She asks both of them.

Before Olivia can respond, Noah speaks up, “Mama’s taking me to a party, and I want a suit to match her pretty dress.”

The woman smiles, this time when Olivia looks at her, her face looks almost fond rather than unnerving.

“There’s a store about a block over, they have a whole range of kids suits, alongside their men’s range, they get a lot of requests for matching father-son suits. I would advise trying there, they definitely have a better range than most.” At Olivia’s thankful but questioning look the woman elaborates, “A close friend of mine dragged me in there once, your son reminds me a lot of him.”

“Thank you for your help…” Olivia pauses realising she doesn’t even know the women’s name who has probably just saved their day from being a total waste of time.

“Rita Calhoun.” The woman answers, and Olivia can’t help the feeling as though she’s heard that name before.

“Olivia Benson and this is my son, Noah, again thank you for your help but considering the time we better get going,” Olivia says checking her watch, the shops would be shutting soon.

“Good luck, Noah. I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Rita says before leaving them.

“Come on sweet boy, we don’t have a lot of time, if we want to find this shop,” Olivia takes her son’s hand, and they leave the store to look for the one suggested by Rita.

---

Olivia is glad Noah bumped into Rita, they found the store quite easily and the range of suits for kids Noah’s age was far better than all the shops they had been in before.

When they left, they had bought a velvet green blazer, green fitted trousers, a green bow tie with white polka dots, a white long sleeve shirt and brown shoes and a belt.

As soon as they got home, Noah went to try on his new clothes right away, while Olivia sat on the couch and waited for the little fashion show he promised her. When he came out, he had a grin almost splitting his face, he looked so cute in the outfit.

“How do I look, mama?” He asked, doing a little twirl as Olivia would when trying on her dresses in front of him.

“My sweet boy, you look absolutely dashing.”

---

The whole week leading up to the party, Noah was very excitable to the point Olivia had to hide his outfit because he kept trying it on and she was worried he would get it dirty before the party. Thankfully though the wait was finally over, and Olivia and Noah were wearing matching colours as they walked into the venue hired out for the party.

Olivia was able to find her squad, Fin and Sonny drinking beer while Amanda sat with Jesse, her daughter, both of them with glasses of Coke.

“See, Carisi, even Noah dresses better than you do,” Olivia hears Amanda say to the lanky detective.

Sonny just smiles back at her, clearly amused by her joke. When he first arrived at Manhattan SVU Sonny had aterrible moustache and badly fitting clothes, but over the weeks he had been dressing better and better, and the moustache was gone. Whenever they asked about it though, he simply replied that he had become friends with a lawyer he used to know in Brooklyn who had finally stopped teasing him and given him some tips on how to improve his style.

Olivia found two drinks sitting at her seat, orange juice for Noah and a glass of wine for herself, Fin just smiles and winks at her and she thanks him with a nod and a smile. Noah sits in her lap while the various people have their speeches, and Olivia gives him most of her attention, listening for the odd thing that will apply to her Unit before helping Noah re-tie his bow time after he accidentally pulls it too hard and undoes it. After what felt like an age, the Christmas music was put on and Olivia could finally relax and chat with her friends.

It doesn’t take long for Noah and Jesse to get tired, after all, it is rather late, and they were able to convince their mums to have a few dances with them. When they inevitably fall asleep Fin offers to keep an eye on them from where they lie next to him on the booth seats, Olivia and Amanda’s big winter coats acting as blankets.

Liv finishes her glass of wine, when she offers to get the next round in, the others decline, like her, they are taking it slowly knowing the evening could turn out to be longer than any of them would prefer.

She takes her empty glass up to the bar with her and is able to find a gap in the crowd around the bar, without even looking at anyone else the barman immediately serves her. He’s young with a blinding smile and a cheeky look in his eyes and as attractive as he is, Olivia merely gives him a smile and tells him he’s far too young for her, his smile doesn’t drop but he nods his head in acceptance and moves on after pouring her another glass of wine.

“How young is too young?” She hears a voice say beside her, Olivia turns to face the stranger and has to take a second to regain her train of thought.

The man standing beside her is most likely younger than her if his question is anything to go by, but his job must be stressful as he looks closer to her age than he probably should be. His hair is dark with greys starting to grow in at his temples and it is more attractive on him than any of men in this room right now. His skin is a soft bronze making her assume he has some Latino background, his smile is more of a smirk, though the lines around his eyes suggest he does smile a lot more than he smirks. But it’s his eyes she can’t look away from, the lighting of the room making his green eyes look like a dark emerald, almost the colour of Noah’s blazer. Olivia takes a moment to get herself under control before answering him.

“Do we know each other?” She asks, refusing to answer his question.

“Would you like to? I certainly would.” He shoots back, moving a little closer but staying out of her personal space for the time being.

“Why’s that?” She asks, wondering what it is about her tonight that she is being hit on for the second time within five minutes.

“Because you look stunning in that dress,” He says and looks her up and down, it doesn’t feel like leer though, there’s heat in his eyes but she recognises desire rather than lust.

“What’s in it for me?” She responds, unconsciously flirting back.

He smirks again, an arrogant thing that Olivia should not find as attractive as she does. Stepping closer, this time he’s moved into her personal space and she doesn’t step back.

“Dance with me and find out.”

Olivia laughs at his forwardness, his blunt refusal to answer any of her questions should be a red flag but everything about him feels playful rather than dodgy.

“What if I have a husband?”

“I doubt that,” Olivia is insulted at that, but before she can say anything, he continues speaking. “Not because you aren’t beautiful, you are. But because you’re not wearing a wedding ring, and you’re buying your own drinks. If I was your husband, I wouldn’t be letting you out of my sight for even a second.” She no longer feels insulted, but he hasn’t completely saved himself.

“That sounds quite controlling,” she challenges, taking a sip of her wine, holding his eyes as she does.

“Please, I would quite happily let you have the reins,” the man leans in, leaving only a hairs width of space between them. “Just let me watch,” he finishes with a glance down to her lips.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Rafael, and you?” He responds, she watches his tongue slide across his lips, wetting them.

“Olivia.”

“Dance with me, Olivia,” It’s not a question or a demand, a mere statement, she can either accept or ignore.

Despite her better judgement, she takes his hand, pulling him out onto the dance floor, a few other couples are dancing but mostly they’re just swaying side to side in a circle. That’s what she expects when his hand comes to rest on her waist but instead, he pulls her right against him before moving them to the beat. His movements are sure and well-executed, the dance is simple but every time he spins her away from him, he pulls her back gracefully again back into his hold. She begins to miss his warmth when they separate and before long, they slow right down until she is simply swaying in his arms. She can feel the heat through his fitted waistcoat, and she has to stop herself from clinging to him. Reminding herself that the only thing she knows about him is his name.

When the song ends, he leans in and whispers in her ear, his warm breath tickling the skin there.

“You really do look gorgeous in that dress, but I would like to get to know you better.”

“Is that another come on, Rafael?” She teases, his name sounding right on her tongue. “Are you just trying to get me into bed?”

His hand moves from her waist to her lower back, holding her against him.

“I would like nothing more than to see you in my bed. I can see it already,” He lifts her arms to loop around his neck and for some reason, she just goes with it. “Your hair would be a mess: loose and curling around you face and shoulders, you’d be naked, covered only by my silk sheets. You’d be breathless but satisfied, your every need and want would be met until you’re unable to take anymore… However, as much as I would enjoy getting to know you more intimately, Olivia, I also want to talk about you, your life, your experiences…” When he finishes, he leans back to look her in the eyes. “Interested?”

Olivia pauses, the imagery he provided affecting her greatly, but she refuses to just fall into his bed because of a few words that got her hot and bothered, she has Noah, she can’t just bring home or go home with any man that whispers seductively in her ear.

“Tell me plainly, are you looking for sex or a relationship?”

“I want to take you on a date, it doesn’t have to end in sex, but I wouldn’t mind if it did” he states, the desire in his eyes is still very clearly there but she believes him.

“I have a son, he comes first.”

“Do I need his blessing?” Rafael jokes.

“Yes.” She quips back, but the look in her eyes tells him she’s being mostly serious. “But he’s sleeping right now so I suggest you buy me a drink and sit with me, if you can’t survive my friends, you stand no chance with my son.” She says it like a challenge, an internal voice telling her he likes a challenge.

“Lead the way, Olivia.”

[poc-movie-supremacy]

My Fancy Boy

After a late night at work, Andrew comes home to a sleepy husband and daughter. As they relax, Steven gets Andrew to tell him his favorite story: How they got engaged. 

This is the final instalment of the Hello Sunshine universe. Hope you guys like it!

-----

The apartment was dark when Andrew opened the door. Work at the restaurant ran a little late so Andrew was just happy to be home. He toed off his shoes and hung up his jacket before silently padding his way throughout the house. When he reached the door to the living room, he noticed a dark blue light flooding through from the crack in the door. Andrew smirked and opened the door. 

Ratatouille was playing on the screen to a small audience. Steven was laying on his back on the sofa half asleep. Methodically, he rubbed his hand over his daughter’s back as he watched her sleep. Her hair was mused as she clutched Steven’s necklace in her tiny hand. Andrew’s heart fluttered at the scene. Quickly he bent down to press a feather-light kiss to the top of his husband’s head. 

Steven preened at the touch, smiling up at him. “Hi honey.”

“Hey sweetie, I’m home,” Andrew joked. Steven smiled up at his husband but didn’t say anything. Moments like there were better fit for quiet reverence than sugary sweet compliments. Slowly, as to not disturb the sleeping child, Steven lifted himself up to let Andrew slide in. He quietly settled himself, one hand in Steven’s hair, the other on their daughter’s back. 

“She really likes your engagement necklace, and ring,” Andrew noted. Her grip on the special piece of jewelry was tight. Steven hummed. 

“She likes the clinking sound the ring and the sun make. Multi-purpose gift,” Steven joked. Andrew rubbed a certain spot in Steven’s hair eliciting a happy noise from the lavender haired boy. “Do you remember the day you gave me it?” Steven whispered. 

“Of course, it was the best day of my life.”

“Tell it to me again.” 

A few years ago…

Andrew paced around the room worrying his bottom lip. Niki, Annie, Rie, and Adam watched him curiously waiting to see what was making him so upset. Niki kept shouting out possibilities but Andrew just ignored her. Finally, Adam got fed up and forcefully asked Andrew why he wanted them at his apartment sans Steven.

“Oh my god are you breaking up?! I won’t be apart of this, Steven’s my friend too.” Niki immediately asserted. That got Andrew to stop his pacing and stare confusingly at Niki. 

“No, no, Steven and I are not breaking up. Quite the opposite actually, I wanna propose.” 

“Oh that’s great! Much better than breaking up, this I can help with.” Niki said, relieved. Annie started laughing at Niki’s comments. Rie gave an encouraging smilte to Andrew who was frankly starting to lose his mind. 

“Why do you need our help. He’s your boyfriend, and he did a worth it: lifestyle episode with Kristin about engagement rings so you already know what he likes,” Adam points out. 

“But a proposal is special, he needs to plan out something great for his fancy boy.” Rie contended with Adam.

Niki snorted. “Andrew could be in his boxers telling Steven the worst pun imaginable and feeding him cheese and Steven would be head over heels.” The quartet frowned in various stages of disgust at the image that sentence invoked. “I do mean that, but man do I regret saying it.”

“This isn’t helping.” Andrew groaned into his hands and resumed pacing. 

“Well, Adam is right, you do know him very well. What does Steven like?” Rie gently asks him. 

“Basketball and Video games, he likes period dramas for the yearning, and anything food related. He likes going to the beach right as the sunsets because he swears swimming and walks along the Riviera are best at night. He hates going to parties, preferring to stay inside and perform science experiments. He’ll rarely get drunk, but if he did it’s only on red wine. He’s such a fancy boy.” As Andrew talked a soft hush fell onto the room. The audience quietly listened to Andrew wax poetic about Steven. A light blush tinted Andrew’s cheeks and a small, dopey smile graced his lips. Liquid adoration pooled in his eyes as he thought about his boyfriend. That’s who I wanna spend the rest of my life with, his brain decided, my sunshine boy, my fancy boy. 

The romantic mood was broken when Niki not so quietly whispered to Annie, “Geez and I thought I was a romantic,” which made Annie snort loudly. 

Slowly, Andrew blinked out of his daydream of happy days with Steven lim to the sad kind of Steven less reality. 

Adam gave him an unimpressed look. “Like I said, you already have everything you need.”

---

Two weeks later, Steven and Andrew were walking hand in hand along the beach. As of today, they’ve been dating for two years. Andrew’s special gift was tucked in a nice pouch in his pocket since he, for the life of him, couldn’t come up with an excuse to wear anything baggier to the beach. Nerves quietly ate away at him as Steven rambled beside him. His hands swung around wildly as he told him some long-winded story that happened to Marielle, Ryan, Shane, and Sara.

When they neared the destination, Andrew gently guided Steven onto the beach towards the picnic basket. Thank god no one stole it, there was some expensive wine in there. Steven’s face lit up at the sight before him. “Sunset beach with the good wine! You know me too well, Andy.” Steven gave his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek before plopping down onto the blanket.  

Not well enough to know if you’ll say yes, Andrew anxiously thought. He sat down next to Steven side to side, and asked, “Eat now or swim now?”

“Eat now, nothing like a nighttime dip, Drew.” Steven reasoned. Andrew smiled and set about unpacking the picnic baskets. He made them a plate of lasagna and a loaf of garlic bread. Steven licked his lips excitedly at the sight. They don’t bother with plates, choosing instead to eat straight from the tupperware. 

The sun has finally set and the moon is starting to peak out, bathing them in silvery light. It made Steven seem paler, like a silver statue. Andrew thought that the golden jewelry he picked out would offset him wonderfully. 

He turned up some soft music as they set about eating. They fed each other more than they fed themselves if they were being truthful. Whispered words and light giggles danced around them. When they couldn’t eat anymore, Steven absent-mindedly ran his hands over the planes of Andrew’s body. They waited for their food to digest before they went into the ocean. 

They raced in hand in hand, until Andrew picked up Steven and tossed him into the ocean. Shrikes and giggles filled the air. The water was icy cold and chilling to the bone. Shivers and goosebumps raced over the boys. Steven got back at Andrew by dunking him in the ocean. They swam together for a while until Andrew got too tired. He left the beach to dry off and re-rehearsed his speech. Nerves were shaking him to the core. Steven was sad for him to leave the water, but he was having too much fun swimming to leave as well. 

Andrew watched quietly as Steven trekked back from the ocean. His dark blue, almost royal blue hair was wild, half in a cowlick half matted to his forehead. Water droplets slowly made their way down his bare chest. A big smile shone on Steven’s face, brighter than the moon itself. Andrew’s breath caught in his throat. He knew if he was ever going to do it, now was the time. 

“To celebrate our two year anniversary, I got you something. I know jewelry isn’t your thing, but I thought it suited you.” He got out the necklace from his back pocket and held it in front of Steven. It was glittering gold with a sun hanging at the end. Etched onto it was the words: My Fancy Boy.

Steven’s breath was caught in his throat. Tentatively he ran a finger along the gold chain down to the sun. The rays were thick squiggly lines and the sun was a shiny, smooth ball. “Put it on me?” Steven whispered hoarsely. He turned his back to Andrew and nervously played with his hands. The air around them was tense like a glass sheet. Steven could feel and hear every slight difference to the norm. He felt heat radiate off Andrew as he kneeled above him. His fingers were warm against Steven’s. 

Once the necklace was on, Steven fingered it a little before pouncing on Andrew. The glass tension broke. 

Andrew smiled as Steven deliberately placed loving kisses on his boyfriend’s face. His whole face was concentrated, like this is how he would repay Andrew and he had to do it right. 

“Perfect, wonderful, mine,” Steven almost growled into Andrew’s ear. 

“If you loved this gift,” Andrew said with a laugh, “you’re going to love what else I have for you.” A sense of seriousness washed over Andrew. It made Steven sit up, confused, and sit beside Andrew instead of on top of him.

Andrew sat up and patted his pocket to make sure the ring was still there. Reassured, he softly cupped Steven's cheek. “You are the best thing that’s happened to me. Your giggle is music, the scrunch you do when you're happy could make an atheist believe in god. I’ve lived without you and it’s been torture. Something so awful I never want to experience it again, so” Andrew pulled out the ring and got down on one knee. Steven’s eyes were as wide as saucers and shining. Andrew wondered if he’d stare long enough he would see stars and galaxies. 

“Steven Lim, would you do me the honor of becoming my husband.” It was a simple gold band with a single diamond in the middle and two rubies surrounding it. Steven, usually so energetic, was dead still staring at the ring. Andrew was starting to get nervous, wondering if he’d done this too soon or asked him wrong. 

His grip on the ring was lax, loose enough for Steven to slip it onto his finger. As he silently admired the ring, he whispered, “Steven Ilnyckyj does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” His eyebrow quirk at the pun stirred Andrew out of his self-deprecating thoughts. As fast as a bullet, he picked up Steven and twirled him around. 

“I was worried you were going to say no.” He admitted into the crook of Steven’s neck. 

Steven hummed sympathetically and ran his hands methodically through his fiancé’s hair. His nails were growing out which felt good on Andrew’s skull. 

“I’d never say no, this is all I’ve wanted for a long time. I’m not letting you go, neither will this ring or necklace. I’m a very lucky man Ilnyckyj, to have gotten a boy like you.” Later on, he would take off the ring to put it with his necklace. Taking care of a baby was hard work, having his keys, and ring in the same place was a blessing. Plus the baby loved the jingle it made.

“You tell that story so well honey.” Steven sleepily murmured.

“It’s my favorite story to tell.”

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Blood Sister | Feeding Habits Update #5

Hey People of Earth!

Are we back for another Feeding Habits update? Today let’s chat chapter six!

Blood Sister is the first chapter in Harrison’s POV and also the longest chapter in the book (a little over 8k words). It took me about a month to write!

Scene A:

Harrison gets back to the NYC apartment he shares with his mother after running errands to ward off either the spirit that haunts their walls or to rescue whatever is stuck in them. His mother preps for a dinner as Harrison has invited his old pal Reeve over.

Scene B:

Harrison removes a litter of kittens from behind the drywall. One of the kittens is dead. Strangely, a German Shepherd puppy is also in the litter.

Scene C:

Reeve appears in a glamorous blur and makes an interesting first impression on Suz who seems slightly stunned and endeared by her.

Scene D:

At dinner Reeve confronts Harrison about his “straight-edge” lifestyle since moving to NYC and he realizes her judgements about his life being monotonous are very true--he lacks purpose.

Scene E:

Harrison and his mother clear the dishes and Suzanna confronts him on the fact that he hasn’t told her that Reeve is in fact Lonan’s sister. Suz knows the boys’ relationship is complicated, and plays Devil’s advocate by outright asking Reeve how her brother is. Reeve, who hasn’t seen Lonan longer than Harrison, has assumed Lonan lives with them or is close by, and feels semi-betrayed that Harrison has kept his whereabouts a secret.

Scene F:

Reeve and Harrison drive to a garden and he’s reminded of the event that lead to him and his mother’s return to the east coast.

Harrison meets Winona outside a convenience store, the same woman Lonan meets in ch.6 of Moth Work. She takes him to her mansion where she’s hosting a party and introduces him to her husband. Harrison makes multiple bad decisions which you can probably figure out for yourself!

Scene G:

Harrison wakes up in Winona’s house and is confused to see her and her husband standing over his leather jacket. If we remember what happened in ch. 6 of Moth Work, Lonan gets beat up by Winona’s husband and has Harrison’s jacket & angel chain stolen. We can assume from this scene that Winona has a) recognized the jacket and b) chosen him to come back to her house for the purpose of also beating him up (which happens).

Scene H:

Reeve and Harrison jump a fence into a garden to give the dead kitten an unorthodox “water burial” in the garden’s fountain. Reeve confronts him on why no one has seemed to care about her whereabouts for the last year, and also suggests the only reason he wanted to see her now is because he misses Lonan. Harrison miserably drinks too much wine.

Scene I:

Harrison wakes up in the cold, very drunk, and Reeve is gone. A security guard looms over him. Harrison asks the confused man if he thinks he was separated at birth. Harrison isn’t referring to feeling like he’s been removed from a sibling bond, like the kittens, but a deeper, “indissoluble bond” formed between two people (like the kittens and the puppy). This connects to the title “Blood Sister” as Reeve suggests she and Suzanna may be connected in this way, to the kittens, and to Lonan and Harrison.

This idea of “indissoluble bonds” was reinforced when I listened to Stephanie Harlowe’s coverage on the Parker-Hulme case, and this was the title of her video! This idea of an immutable connection between two people who are forever separated, like the dead kitten despite its death, still being connected to its siblings, was very relevant to how Harrison feels about Lonan.

Excerpts:

Here’s the entire first scene <3

Something has died in the drywall. Suz insists there must also be a ghost—she hears cries when she sleeps—so when Harrison returns to their apartment with both a handsaw and a bottle of holy water, she’s more than pleased.

Today, it snows in New York City, and no amount of brushing off his hair and jacket rids him of the snowflakes he tracks in. His face stings with the bitter early March air, and he’s resettled easily into the east coast grit; he likes the taste of instant coffee and the smell of gasoline.

Harrison shoulders off his jacket, the leather rigid with frost, and undoes the loop of his scarf one-handed. The apartment smells overwhelmingly of cloves and apple peel, and he is unsurprised when his mother rushes over to him, flushed from the kitchen heat, her #1 Dad apron bunching at her hips, and pushes a highball glass into his palm in exchange for his findings.

“It’s a secret recipe,” she says, twiddling through his errands. Suzanna lifts the bottle of holy water to eye level, unscrews its cap, and daps two soaked fingers to her lips just as he dips his fingers into the glass, around its rim, and then into his mouth. The hot mull of liquid bursts against his taste buds, citrusy. “Wish I believed in this shit as much as I believe nutmeg is my new holy saviour.”

Harrison downs the rest of the glass’s contents, the cider’s spice grafting down his throat. Its heat clings to the roof of his mouth, a subtle burn that numbs his tongue, but he likes it, its sweetened acid like a rucking back to life.

“Is that the secret?” He runs his pinky along the base of the glass so the last drops of liquid climb up his fingernail.

“The Lord?”

Harrison laughs and accepts the holy water she hands him, rescrews its cap in place. “Nutmeg.”

Suzanna takes his empty glass and whisks toward the kitchen. On the stove burbles two saucepans and one Dutch oven, the fan whirring like the pleats of an accordion.

“Maybe it’s both,” she says.

You asked for the entire second scene? Here Harrison finds the litter of kittens:

The first thing Harrison removes when he saws through the drywall lining the two-prong outlet is a dead kitten. Its body shifts onto his hand with damp weight, like an overripe pear, its silver hair glass-like under the beam of his flashlight. Though it sits comfortably in the pit of his palm, though he knows he cannot kill or revive it, his first instinct is to lay it on the beach towel Suzanna laid out because he fears he’ll crush it with just one pulse of his thumb.

Its eyes are the size of his pinkie nail, gently shuttered like it’s drifted to a lawless sleep. The animal will remain in this state—only death, but as he looks at it, braying its hairs back with his forefinger, he considers alternative options. Harrison knows little of necromancy, but considers anointing it with the holy water, lighting a red-cased candle in front of it, chanting a verse from Revelations.

With the flashlight secured between his molars, Harrison pulls out four more kittens, all that mew as they cling to his fingers, their noses twitching against his skin like it’s feed. They burrow into the beach towel, trampling over one another with blind fervency, all shimmery silver. In comparison to their deceased sibling, they wriggle, pink-nosed, and don’t settle against the grain of the towel, always wagging, like earthworms.

Harrison believes he’s done—removed the dead animal and rescued four more. Good work which he’ll take to a farm just outside the city—Suzanna has a friend. He’s nearly clicked off the flashlight when he sees it, just a subtle glint of something else—an animal that isn’t silver, but a dry brown.

At first, he thinks it’s a rat that’s raked through the walls to where it is now, but the longer he shines the flashlight, the more he sees it is not a rat, or even a kitten. What sits, jittering behind the outlet, is a pup.

Like the kittens, its nose twitches back and forth, its eyes small enough to be the ovular black beads on Suzanna’s rosary which hangs, decorative, above the front entrance. “It’s a cleanse for the spirit,” Suz said when he questioned her reasoning for bringing religious memorabilia into a house of two atheists. “Dianne from church told me.” Dianne is a beer-bellied schoolteacher, proud pothead and mother of four who frequently volunteers at the church’s weekend functions with his mother. “She’s into that kind of thing. Seances. Jesus Christ. I think she mentioned they had something spicy going on in college.”

“Something spicy?”

“Spicy. Like hot wings. Habaneros. One-night stands. I don’t know Harry, it sounded illicit.”

They both grinned.

Harrison does not know when him and Suz began getting along. There was no one date or time, no anniversary to look forward to for their official reunion. One moment he struggled not comparing her face to the one he knew in his early teens, and the next, they crouched over a salad bowl of burnt popcorn, taking turns painting each other’s fingernails with the same shade of red nail polish—Crazy for Carmine

The dog can’t yet focus its eyes on anything, but Harrison swears it stares at him. It fidgets from its position crouched on the outlet, so when he extends his hand, an offering, he’s surprised when it crouches onto the tip of his finger, shimmying into his palm. It’s even smaller when he holds it, plum-sized, and velveteen. Its eyelids flicker like the apartment’s bad TV signal, and when it opens its mouth to cry, its teeth, no larger than the tip of a toothpick, prick up.

“You’re not a tabby,” he says, drags his fingers through the suede-like gloss of its fur. The pup curls against his knuckles, murmurs languidly until Harrison pets its head again.

“Did you say something, Harry?”           

Harrison stands from his crouch when his mother materializes from her bedroom, the animal still pared delicately in his palm. When he glances at her, he’s surprised to see she’s changed out of her usual loungewear, a tank top and bell-bottoms, and into a patterned shirtdress that sways to her knees. The Matisse-like design, organic shapes, all the colour of a celery stalk, drapes to her knees, flounces when she twirls for him.           

“I thought we agreed on business casual,” he says, but smiles wider the longer he looks at her. Tulle gathers in a funnel down her waist, pluming her so she looks less like his mother and more like a fairy.          

“I’m taking the business side, and you’ll take the casual.”          

“She’s just a friend, Mom. She’s not expecting anything.”           

“She’s got an English last name,” Suz says. Her eyelids glitter with gold pigment, her lips tacky with rouge. “Of course she’s classy.”           

Harrison thumbs the back of the pup’s head and shifts closer to Suzanna when she cocks her head toward it.

“I think Reeve is more than classy,” he says. “Maybe stylish. Exclusive. Superior. Glamorous.”           

Suzanna shifts the pup from Harrison’s hands to her own, neatly patting its head with her pinkie until its murmurs soften. When she holds the animal, it’s like he no longer stands behind her. It’s just her in her Matisse dress and the dog, comfortably blinking in her hand. “You found a puppy in a litter of kittens?” she says, less of a question, and more of a declaration of wonderment. She lifts the animal to eye level. Its nose wrinkles, like the skin of a fig. “Looks like mama picked up a stray. A beautiful stray. You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Reeve making only iconic appearances:

Reeve appears in their doorway wearing cat-eye sunglasses, a bottle of pinot noir slatted between her arm and chest. Though it’s been storming since early morning and there has been no sun in the city since the week previous, her appearance is so believable—cheekbones subtly tanned like she’s mastered the timing for a perfect sunlike glow, the sunglasses teetering neatly on the tip of her nose and staying there, like they’re a dog she’s taught to sit and stay—that Harrison’s almost convinced she commissions the sun to come out twice daily for a private show, just for her.

“We booked an appointment,” she says, letting herself into the apartment in a faux-fur blur.

Harrison swivels as she unzips, tooth by tooth, the red skin-slick vinyl of her gogo boots. Her hair falls in an untamed fringe around her forehead, the front sections pinned back by an array of rainbow-coloured butterfly clips. It mimics the fray of her jacket, fluffed around the hood’s perimeter.

Reeve dusts snow off her corduroy culottes, readjusts the collar of her black turtleneck. “When I moved to the city, I forgot how gruelling the winters can become.” She taps the heels of her boots onto the welcome mat so slush flakes onto the rubber before slipping her feet out elegantly, like Cinderella. “I almost believed New York City existed in a fictional bubble where everything remained dry and hot, like in Egypt, or the Mojave. When I asked for a hellish climate, I was hoping for sun and the occasional forest fire. Not ice and more ice.”

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” Suz speaks where Harrison’s words shrivel. She steps from the kitchen to the entrance, her dress flouncing when she extends a hand toward Reeve. “William Shakespeare.”

Reeve looks up. The cold has pinched her cheeks pink, drooled water to her eyes so when she blinks, tears sprout to her jawline. “Suzanna,” Reeve says, and embraces his mother with willful ease, like they’ve been girlfriends for a decade, like they purchase pavlova from the same patisserie at the same time on Thursdays, like they help each other whip perfectly fatty meringues at the same baking class so they can master the same pavlova and never buy it again. “I’ve heard nothing about you and yet I feel we’ve known each other for years. What do they call that? Blood sisters.”

So here’s the whole third scene lol:

At dinner, Reeve pops the cork of a bottle of pinot noir with her teeth before Suz tells her she and Harrison don’t drink. She’s in the middle of saying she’s a prophet, the bringer of wine, her lips parted around the cork, traces of her lip gloss gumming around its circumference.

“No alcohol?” Reeve says, spitting the cork into her palm so a glob of red transfers onto her skin.

Suz stirs a serving dish of clams with an olive wood spoon, their shells phosphorescent in the artificial light. “Harry and I have taken a break from spirits. Except for the holiest one of course.” She points to the roof as if signaling to the man upstairs and dishes a spoonful of clams onto Reeve’s plates, the shells chiming against the ceramic.

“That’s so reverent.” Reeve pricks the edge of a clam with a toothpick and swallows its frill into her mouth. “So virginal.”

Harrison accepts a spoonful of clams from his mother and adjusts a sprig of rosemary so it lies perpendicular to the plate’s edge. Olive oil gums under his fingernails and soaks into the fibres of a slice of bread he rips at the crust.

“I always assumed you’d be a partier if you ever moved back to the city,” Reeve says, and it takes Harrison a moment to realize she’s speaking to him. “Disco. Karaoke. Cocktails. Men who buy you cocktails.”

“Has that been your life in New York, Reeve?” Harrison sucks a lobe of clam between his lips. Its brine coats his tongue in a burst of salt and cilantro.

Reeve tips the bottle of wine to her mouth, its red gift bow shifting, silverish with light. “You could say that. I just expected more. Not that your life now is boring. But I assumed there would be more glamour.”

Harrison sops up a dribble of oil onto a shear of bread, and says something like, “I thought so too,” before swallowing.

“We have glamour,” Suz says as Harrison absently eats more clams. She points to the chandelier the two found at the bottom of a New Jersey dumpster, yet to be installed, sitting in its crystal glory on the floor. She explains the story of how it came to be as Harrison eats and listens for the mewing of the kittens, thinks about their one dead sibling that now lies curled inside a shoebox, separated in eternal rest.

Reeve is not wrong. Life in New York City has been far from glamorous. He shares this apartment with his mother who pays for all of the rent—it’s been months since Harrison could hold down a steady job. He tries with odds and ends—repairing a neighbour’s bathroom sink, tacking sconces up outside the apartment for a hundred bucks. His room is a décor-less box that smells like wallpaper even though it’s sanded smooth and painted with two coats of an eggshell-finished oatmeal white. There is no dancing, no music, no colour, no partying, no alcohol or men with alcohol. Not anymore, at least. Her statement should not sting—this is the utter truth. The apartment is repetitive shades of indistinctive creams, furniture he and his mother pick up off the curbs of wealthy homeowners, incomplete, yet his home, nonetheless. No matter the story Suz tries to spin—look at the exposed brick, look at the counter space, look at the custom-moulded baseboards the previous renters installed—he knows what Reeve has said is true. Life in the city is comfortable but monotonous—an unrelenting kind of normal.

“We found kittens,” Harrison says, promptly interrupting the women’s conversation that has quickly moved away from the apartment to their favourite places to eat gelato. Suz’s clam drifts off her toothpick; Reeve almost chokes on a gulp of wine. Harrison swipes a chunk of bread through olive oil and chews. “That’s glamorous.”

Reeve sets the wine bottle back onto the dinner table and folds her hands over the other. Her manicure is chipped, just the remnants of a tortoiseshell marble. “What kind? Calico?”

“They’re just kittens. And a dog.”

“You found a dog in a litter of kittens?”

Harrison eats one last clam and finishes his portion of bread. “Glamorous,” he says, his mouth half-full.

The beginning of scene 4:

While Suz and Reeve discuss room décor and clear the plates, Harrison checks on the kittens. Dishes clank rhythmically as they’re soaped, rinsed, dried, the ceramic whimpering in time with the kittens. He hasn’t named any but understands their differences. Though the quadruplets share the same silver coat, one has a slightly larger nose than the rest, one has a fleck of gold in its blue eye, one has pinstripes scrolled across its forehead like a branch of lightning—small details like this differentiate them.

In his palm, the one with the golden eye crawls, its underbelly sateen. Tomorrow, he’ll make the drive just outside Brooklyn where he’ll drop the kittens off at an old farmhouse. Suz’s friend from rehab is selling it, some Theodore Harvey, but his wife fosters animals, and was delighted to have the new additions. Though he hasn’t spoken to his mother about this arrangement, he also knows tomorrow he will keep the dog. Juniper, he’s named her—June with the eyes like a solstice.

When his mother pokes him, he jumps, and the kitten shimmies off his palm.

The sounds of dishes clinking morphs into the filmy mutter of a talkshow Reeve watches, sipping absently at her gifted bottle of red wine.

She nudges a pastry into his hand, where the kitten once sat, the skin of the pasteis de nata oiling his hand. He crunches into it as she watches patiently, as if waiting for a review, and its caramel flavour ruminates on his tongue.

“This is good,” he says around a mouthful of pastry.

“$4.99.” Suz smiles and takes a nibble herself. “For six.”

Together they stand over the kittens, passing the tart back and forth until Harrison gives the final piece to his mother. The apartment whirs with the calculated singe of automated laughter and the purr of the kittens. He knows one sits dead in a shoebox on his bedroom dresser. The ground too hard to dig, a burial still necessary.

Suz licks a crumb from her thumb and wipes her palms along the skirt of her dress. Their focus shifts to Reeve who lies sprawled against the two-seater, yelling something at a contestant on the show who’s gotten an answer wrong—tulip, not two lips. That’s fabulous. You are fabulously a failure.

“You didn’t tell me she was Lonan’s sister.”

Harrison pokes at a flake of pastry and wipes his hands on the front of his jeans. Reeve’s bangles clatter in a cyan jangle as she applauds at the same contestant she previously ridiculed. There are so many things he could say to his mother—he knew Reeve first, Reeve isn’t just Lonan’s sister to him, more like his own, but when he adjusts himself, swallowing and tidying the hem of his shirt, all that comes out is, “I didn’t think you needed to know.”

“I would’ve like to,” Suz says. “Does she know? That you don’t know where he is?”

Harrison’s fingernail catches on a loose thread, and he yanks it out so even Reeve glances back at its upholstered plink. “I know where he is, Suzanna.”

Reeve and Suz being icons (direct continuation from the above):

Harrison turns back to the kittens who plow over one another like ants. Heat flushes his throat, prickles his cheeks and ears and suctions like a vacuum. Though Suzanna eventually leaves, joining Reeve on the couch, propping her feet on the same coffee table so their polished feet touch, toes pink like raw cherry tomatoes, though he knows they’re both right in knowing and not knowing where Lonan is, though he knows it should no longer matter to him, he finds himself leaning against the table where the kittens encase each other in a plastic shoe bin, ticking his fingers at his side.

He does not know what the reality television show is about. From the blots he hears from the TV’s can-like speaker, he concludes it’s something about botany, love, vengeance, fertilizer. No one theme—it does not even know what it is itself. Suz has materialized with another tart, and she and Reeve nibble at it with fervency, so close, their tongues almost touch as they dart across the custard. The sight is almost viper-like, their teeth notched forward, and it should be venomous, or at its worst—friendly, but all Harrison sees is girlish, maternal intimacy.

Suz and Reeve laugh at a contestant who wears a tartan printed jumpsuit and mismatching earrings—one the shape of a pineapple, the other an urn-like bead she claims holds the ashes of her great aunt. They outline her figure with their pinkies. They clutch each other’s hands. They flush like beets and wipe crumbs from each other’s mouths.

Reeve’s momentary lapse into delicacy:

Harrison turns his back and pretends to tend to the kittens. They all know he does nothing but thumb the backs of their heads, let them suckle against his fingertips—they all know, and yet, he continues doing it. Silence cuts through the apartment like hot glass.

If Reeve and Suzanna still touch toes, it’s because neither want to loosen the other’s pride. The only sound in the room belongs to the television which has moved away from dishwashing to a watering hose—four for four, as if this is a discount, as if anyone will truly need that many watering hoses.

“I haven’t seen your brother since late August,” Harrison says once the commercials simmer back to the gaudy laughter of the reality television show. At first, he doesn’t look at Reeve. He knows what he’ll see—some form of betrayal. She didn’t come here looking for Lonan. She hasn’t even asked for him, but he knows what he’ll see when he looks at her. Best friends do not keep secrets.

When he concedes, he is right. Reeve looks at him from under a thick smear of kohl, her eyes focused, like slate beads. Her lips are pink from wine and she unhinges a fleck of opal nail polish from her thumb. Her mouth does not move, a straight line that cranks with her jaw.

“Where is he?” she asks, fluttering her lashes when Suz pats her arm. If Harrison is right, Reeve hasn’t see her brother since she peered in on him when the two shared the tent, pearled a few smoke rings from Harrison’s cigar, and left for the east coast. Before he left, Foster filled him in on the details of her eventual cross-country desertion, though there weren’t many. How he’d last seen her at the motel, a margarita wobbling in her palm, what she’d said to him, to stay special, that there weren’t many people like him left, and how she had vanished like vapour by the time they realized to check. While Reeve hiked across the country by herself, he and Lonan swam through nighttide and badly waltzed in a four-by-four bathroom. She made an anonymous life in New York City, hailing cabs with just her eyes, and learning the easiest ways to shoplift. Alone. Her last memory of Lonan one where he pretended to sleep so he didn’t have to say goodbye to her.

“Las Vegas the last time I saw him,” Harrison says. He feels the urge to apologize for something, to hug her, or cry. Though her expression unbends from severe back to her perfected mould of glitzy conviction, her momentary lapse into delicacy startles him. He looks back to the kittens who seem more interested in themselves than him.

Reeve tightens her grip around the neck of the wine bottle and tactfully sips, her pinkie erect, her lips pursed just the right amount. “What happened?” she asks and sets the bottle onto the coffee table. She lets a dribble of wine fall from her mouth so she can dab at it like a wounded animal.

Harrison and Reeve in the car:

Harrison brings the box with the dead kitten and Reeve brings the bottle of pinot noir. Together, they settle in her red Beetle convertible, a car she insists she pawned for a quarter its listing price, though he figures from the way she settles in it, carefully placing the wine bottle in the cup holder, wiping her hands on her thighs as if checking for grease, that it must belong to a roommate or boyfriend, if she has either. The car smells faintly of pineapple and vanilla, a scent not unfamiliar to him, the waft strengthening as the tree-shaped air-freshener swings closer to him with every turn.

Reeve asks vaguely of his time in the city, how life has been for him and his mother since they moved from Vegas in mid October. Her mouth flutters with speech, each word like the hull of a hard candy she specially tastes before sharing. Has it been marvellous, just as you thought? Don’t you ever wonder how a city could become so brilliant? Isn’t the weather maddening? Don’t you adore it? She asks about Foster, what living with him was like, what saying goodbye to him the week previous was like—was it tragic—and he could tell her his move in with him and his mother wasn’t much of a plan—not a last resort either, but a salvaging. A necessary resuscitation. Reeve’s lips as dubious as shadow puppets.

Here’s some of the flashback with Winona at the convenience store:

The woman stood under the hex of the convenience store’s light, spooling her in a feverish blue. The sun had been down for hours, but its residual heat clung to Harrison’s arms in tacky gusts that wound up his fingers. Like the woman, he reached for his cigarettes. Vehicles spun across the highway just beyond the gas station, and when he raised his head after lighting the cigarette, the woman was staring at him.

“Aren’t you too young to be out without a parent or guardian?” she asked. Her hair was the colour of his mother’s candlesticks, a waxy boxed red. Her rings waggled in the false light.

“Maybe,” he said, a curl of smoke looping out of his mouth. “Can’t remember which life I’m on. There are so many. I could be ninety-seven. Tomorrow might be my birthday.”

It was September in Las Vegas. White licks of car exhaust laced the black sky, and though it wasn’t cold, Harrison pulled his jacket tighter around his chest.

Winona tries to figure out whether or not Harrison is a local by getting to know his eyes/face lol:

Harrison dropped the butt of his cigarette and stomped out its embers. When it was fully out, he fit his hands into his jacket pocket and approached the woman. Up close, her trench coat was pebbled with lint, a bead from her charm bracelet missing. She crushed her cigarette too, and when her hands were free, she stepped toward him with both palms out, and pressed them to his cheeks so he felt both the heat of her skin and the watery bite of her jewelry. She examined each plane of his face as if they were sides of a prism. Her perfume, a vinegary sort of citrus, stung his eyes the closer she got, the fur of her jacket’s trim brushing his chin when she pressed to her toes for a better look.

“You could be so many things,” she said, tilting his jaw at the same moment her pinkie slid from the jab of his nose bridge to his top lip. She pushed her face closer to his and inhaled, her plastic nail marking his skin with a pixel of glitter. “You’ve got the face of an angel. Which means you’re good. You’re sacred. You’re discreet.” When her finger poked into his mouth, her knuckle snagged on his canines. “Could also mean you’re a fraud. A criminal. You know, Lucifer wasn’t always the fallen angel.”

A bit of the party:

Winona’s front lawn was manicured, cropped neat at its soil scalp. Clusters of people huddled in different places—four gargling in the stone fountain just before the iron gate, two drinking from three martini glasses at once, a group of on their backs, arms wound like a wicker basket, shot glasses teetering between their teeth like human serving tables.

Winona parked opposite the house that pulsed with light. Harrison got out when she did, and with ease, she punched into the gate, leading him past her perfect lawn, her party guests, as if they were simply garden statues.

Inside, more people concentrated, all stopping Winona for a moment to say hello as she passed. She moved in a way only the owner of a house would, her strides easy, like she knew exactly where to take him and when.

“I know it’s busy,” Winona said, adjusting her volume for the holler of party guests. “I promise it’s always like that. Who is it that says we need partners for life? God or my therapist? This is that but every week. You meet so many people.”

Harrison listened to her haphazardly. Though he’d been in Las Vegas for a month, he hadn’t been out except for a few errands at the grocery store or for cigarettes, despite his mother’s insistence he quit. The party was overwhelming. Bass from the stereo caught him by the throat and held him there as he and Winona threaded through her house that seemed closer to a mansion. The interior smelled like cleaning bleach and fruit cocktails, and he could hardly walk without someone rearing into him. He should’ve left, known better, done better, but it thrilled him, every moment of the party’s chokehold.

When Winona pushed through her French doors and out to the back pool, Harrison tailed her closely, unsure he’d be able to keep pace if he lost sight of her, even for a moment. The backyard smelled artificially floral, like orchids, tuberose, the grassy melt of citronella candles.

Some of my fave Harrison dialogue:

“You should’ve told me you were into vintage. Cheap but chic. I like it, angel.” Her ring finger smushed into his jaw, and then against his hairline.

“What’s vintage about me?”

Winona laughed, though her eyes remained glass-like. “Your jacket, of course. You’re thrifty. Into second-hand.”

~~theme makes an appearance:

It was only later, when he stumbled, bloody knuckled, through their front door, stepping over partygoers and martini glasses, that he understood. He hadn’t come to the party thinking about Lonan but managed to attract the same people. He hadn’t drunk the magenta liquid thinking about him but managed to exit the house stumbling, as he did, his knees knotted like a newborn lamb. There was something inconceivably indissoluble about them—their bond mirror-like, one making one decision, and the other mimicking it with vigour, unknowingly inseparable.

God tier denial:

“What do you miss about him?”

Harrison blinks. He hasn’t expected her to speak to him again, in fact he’s pictured the night whittling into gauzy silence, them setting the box afloat in the fountain, and then leaving once more, wordless. Reeve drinks another sip of wine. Its scent stings, like earthy cranberries.

“I don’t,” he says, which is a lie, and they both know it. Harrison has never been a good liar, but especially a bad liar around Reeve who’s always managed to snuff out the truth. She looks at him in absolutes, like she sees his every answer scraped into his cheek and doesn’t need to check his work. Her eyes are feline and rimmed with kohl and aquamarine mica—she doesn’t need anyone to tell her the truth because she holds it in her fist. “He has a girlfriend. He’s happy.” Harrison rations more wine down his tongue, three times as much as he’s intended to drink.

“But what do you miss about him?”

Harrison misses nothing. He sleeps little and smokes too much because he misses nothing. He walks by himself, eats by himself, talks to himself because he misses nothing. He jumps from job to job, person to person, place to place because he misses nothing. He wakes up in dazes the colour of blackberries because he misses nothing. He blinks dreams from his eyelashes like they’re bad spells because he misses nothing. He holds himself, he drinks himself, he leaves no company for anyone because he misses nothing about Lonan. He misses absolutely nothing.

Harrison sits up and lifts the dead kitten’s box. He feels Reeve’s gaze when he lowers it into the fountain, the box giving into the slosh of water, and feels her gaze once more when he sits back and drinks more wine. The moon makes him miserable, its silver gloat like a reminder, of how easy it would be to look at it and see Lonan’s face appear in its dime. He doesn’t register how much he drinks, just that it feels better than not drinking. He doesn’t register that Reeve never takes the bottle, that it’s just him and its open gape of wine. As the kitten swirls around the fountain, he tries not to think of its siblings back at the apartment, all mottled over each other like burrs. An unbreakable bond, and what that means, even as one of them sits alone, gurgling along the current of a fountain.

If you didn’t ask for angst before, you sure did now:

He does not remember falling asleep, and so waking up feels illusory, shimmery, like a mirage. He focuses on dart of yellow light and a man wearing a security uniform telling him he can’t be here, here being the garden, past the fence, under the fountain. Snowflakes have clumped against his eyelashes and he blinks twice to dislodge them. The man must ask him if he’s intoxicated, never noticing the shoebox floating in the fountain, because Harrison says, “Who’s to say? I miss so many things,” and isn’t talking about the bottle of wine or Reeve that both seem to have vanished, as if they were never there. Harrison blinks again, searching for Reeve’s outline somewhere in the crisp bushel of dead foliage, but she never reappears—has he imagined the entire thing, or is she magical, effervescent, invisible? What was the last thing she said? Drink it all. It’s good for you. It’s like your own personal healing tonic.

“Do you think it’s possible I was separated at birth?” Harrison asks the security guard, who leads him by the elbow out past the iron gate and into the parking lot where he stumbles over a patch of glazy slush and onto his knees.

“Are you a twin?”

Harrison draws his index finger through the slush, doodling nonsense—letters of his name, an eyeball, a singular, faceless nose. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“Your twin?”

Harrison shakes his head.

Snow and slush dredge his jeans and the hem of his jacket; a streetlamp filters him and the security guard in foamy yellow. His skin has numbed from sitting out in the cold too long, and in some places, prickles with heat, like the fritz of pine needles. Reeve has dissolved in the fresh spatter of snow that settles on the pavement, his fingers. The fur fringe of her hood gone, the slick of her boots. She will not be here tomorrow. He may never see her again, and yet this is not what makes him ache in the way he does.

His hands move for him. Dividing the snow in slopes, curves, lines—letters. When he’s finished, he rests his chin on his own shoulder and dries the slop of slush from his nail. The security guard leans over, bends down to get a better look, but Harrison doesn’t have to look to know what he’s written. Chiselled so the flurries fill its gaps, like cement. His name will be erased by dawn. Lonan.

So that’s it for this very, very long update! See you for chapter seven!

--Rachel

[ibelieveinharrystyles]

Chapter One: Something New

this is the first part of my new series i hope you enjoy it :)

Forever? Masterlist

31st October 2015

Somehow Ashley was late, well she wasn’t late late, just later than she had said she’d be, who knew getting two trains from Holmes Chapel to Sheffield could be so time consuming. She panted heavily as she approached the security at the back entrance to the arena, showing them her driver’s license, and they checked her name off of the guest list, Paul led her down the corridors and through the arena to catering where Harry was sat eating food from the buffet, they hadn’t seen each other in almost a month, but they still managed to speak pretty much everyday. She quietly approached her best friend who was sitting across the table from Niall, clearly involved in a heated debate. “Guess who?” she chimed, covering his eyes with her hands.

“Susan Boyle?” he joked, before Ashley lightly slapped him round the back of the head.

“You’re a little shit, you know that don’t you?” she told him as she placed her bag and jacket on the chair beside Harry.

“But you wouldn’t have me any other way would you?” he replied, standing up and hugging her from behind, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, his exquisitely decorated arms holding her tightly. “I’ve missed being your little shit.” Harry told her, “Food! Do you want some food? I told Sarah to make your favourite because I knew you were coming.”

“You’re a soft bugger aren’t you?”

“I think I prefered little shit.” Harry chuckled, his cheeky grin stretching from ear to ear.

“So how’ve you been?” Harry asked eagerly as the two of them found a space at a spare table, Ashley tucking into her plate of cheesy pasta and salad.

“Not bad, It’s weird not being in education, when I decided to take a gap year I thought I’d be buzzing, but I’m so bored.” She explained, twirling the pasta on her fork.

“Well I’m just happy to have you here love, I missed you.” he smiled, picking at Ashley’s pasta.

“I missed you too H, do you reckon you’ll come back home when the break begins?”

“For a little bit, I’m back at Christmas, but it looks like I’ll be in LA for New Years this year.”

“Oh I bet you will,” Ashley teased.

“What do you mean by that?” Harry smirked.

“You know exactly what I mean Styles! I do use social media you know, I’ve seen the pictures of you and Kendall, as long as you’re happy I’m happy, you are happy aren’t you?” she replied.

“I am Ash, I think I am.” Harry replied, sitting back in his plastic chair.

“What do you mean you think?”

“Alright Ashley? How’s tricks?” Louis asked as he took a seat beside her.

“Not bad, not bad, I hear congratulations are in order though, dad! that’s pretty crazy.”

“Yeah it’s mad innit, I’m excited though, lookin’ forward to it.”

“I’ve seen you with your Doris and Ernie, you’ll be a great dad.” she assured him.

“Cheers darling that means a lot,” Louis replied.

“I’ll see you two later.” Harry stood you, prepared to slip away before the topic of conversation turned back to him.

“Hey Styles! You didn’t answer my question.” Ashley called after him.

“Forget what I said, I’m happy. Promise.”

The final show was less than an hour away, the boys and their respective family and friends were all sat in catering together, the mood was different, everyone would always be so hyped up for a show, but today they were mellow, there was the same laughter there had always been, that was unmistakable, but it was different, everyone was reminiscent, talking about their favourite memories of the band that had been such a massive part of their lives. Ashley could sense Harry was quieter, he sat next to her twiddling with his thumbs and fiddling with his hair that Lou had only just fixed. “You wanna go for a walk?” She whispered, nudging his arm, he nodded.

The pair found themselves sitting on some steps behind the stage, the shrieks and chatter of the fans surrounded them as they did, “What’s eating you up H? I don’t think I’ve seen you like this before.” She rubbed her hand up and down his back, letting him know she was there if he needed her.

“Do you think we’re making a mistake?” Harry asked, looking at the floor.

“I think you’re making the right decision for you, look at it this way, you wouldn’t drive a car from London to Scotland without stopping off in Liverpool for petrol on the way, and you ,might decide not to stay in Liverpool too long, but on the other hand you might like Liverpool a lot, and you might decide to stay in Liverpool longer then you’d planned. What I’m trying to say is H, the last five years have burnt you all out, you wouldn’t be human if they hadn’t, no one would blame you Harry, how could they?” Before the band Ashley had always looked to Harry for advice, like she would an older brother, but ever since the X Factor final the tables turned, Y/N would always assure Harry that somehow everything was going to be alright.

“I’ve been offered a solo record deal.” Harry told her quickly, like it was a plaster he’d been meaning to rip off of his skin.

“That’s good isn’t it?”

“It’s three albums, no time scale, no pressure.”

“Looks like you’ll be stopping off in Liverpool a little longer than originally planned.” She told him, causing Harry to let out a loud chuckle, he rested his head on her shoulder and let out a relieved sigh, “Do you remember what I told you that night at the X Factor Final? when you were a skinny sixteen year old in baggy jeans, and I was a little fourteen year old with a terrible fringe.”

“No I don’t, that whole night is a massive blur.” he replied.

“You were anxious about the future, I told you that moment was just the beginning but you weren’t sure, and I said to you, tell me that in five years when you’ve got number one albums, won awards and sold out arenas, and frankly Harry my sentiments remain the same, you are going to do amazing things in the next few years, and the world will get to see the real Harry Edward Styles.”

The final show had drawn to an end, there were tears, before, during and after the show, mostly from the mums, tears of joy that their sons had accomplished so much, but also tears of sorrow, the feeling of uncertainty, not knowing what the next few years would hold. “You alright?” Ashley asked Harry whilst they were standing at the bar in the midst of the after party.

“Yeah, just about, come here,” he wrapped his arms around her, swaying from side to side as the music changed, “I’m so lucky I get to call you my best friend.”

“It's that song H, the one that Gemma had on that day we first met.” Ashley told him, gazing up at her best friend.

“We best go dance to our song then.” He replied, taking her by the hand and leading her to the dancefloor, the two of them dancing how you would expect two slightly drunk people to dance “But you don’t pull my strings cause I’m a better man moving on to better things!” Harry shouted, as they continued to dance together, laughing hysterically as Ashley held onto Harry’s hands.

“Strong dance moves Ash.” Niall chuckled as she returned to the bar, “Oh this is Matt, he’s been part of our tour crew for the UK leg, Matt this is Ashley.”

“Nice to meet you.” His Geordie accent thicker than any she’d heard before, his hair was combed back on top, and short at the sides, leading her to infer he was a peaky blinders fan. “Those were some impressive dance moves.”

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Niall announced taking his beer from the bar, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” He whispered to Ashley, sparking a small grin on her face.

“What are you drinking?” Matt asked as she took a seat on the barstool beside him.

“Heineken.” She told him, he raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised, “Were you expecting me to say white wine or something?”

“Usually I can tell what sort of drink someone would go for, how about you grab us a table and I’ll bring your drinks over.”

Ashley had no clue what possessed her to invite Matt back to her hotel room, he said he fancied a chilled one where it was quieter, and she quite agreed, the music was intense and the chance of having a proper conversation was slim to none. “So how long have you known Harry?” he asked, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

“Ten years, we were neighbours when we were kids, and I guess we’ve just been best friends since then.” She explained.

“So you’re not together?” He asked.

“God no, Harry’s like my brother, he’s always looked out for me, I’ve always looked out for him.” She explained.

“And what does your boyfriend think of how close you two are?”

“I haven’t got one.”

“There’s no way someone as fit as you doesn’t have a boyfriend,” he told her, edging closer to where she was sitting on the bed, placing his hand on the bare skin of her thigh, gradually sliding it up, under her skirt.

“You’ve got protection haven’t you?” she asked, reciprocating his kisses.

“Of course I do.” He told her, unbuckling his belt, his kisses became more intense as he hovered over her, there was no connection, not on Ashley’s part anyway.

“Rise and shine sleepyhead.” Ashley stirred from her sleep to see Harry knelt beside her bed, “I bought you some food petal,” He told her, stroking the hair from her face, before passing her a face wipe to remove last night’s makeup from her face.

“What did I do to deserve a friend as good as you?” She asked, sitting up in bed as she took a croissant from the plate Harry had placed beside her bed to nibble on.

“You’re clearly just born lucky.” He told her, “So tell me, where did you and Matt get to last night?”

“Oh shit.” she fell back against the pillow, hiding her embarrassed face from Harry, “We slept together,” she whispered.

“And he’s not here now? He’s literally just left you here? If I weren’t the calm person I am I’d be out of here looking for him.” Harry exclaimed, the anger in his voice apparent.

“If I’m honest H, I’m not bothered whether I see him again or not, he wasn’t the best I’ve had.”

“Who was?” Harry asked, clearly intrigued who his best friend had been with.

“Luke.” She shot him a knowing look, waiting for him to figure it out.

“As in Australian Luke? When did that happen?” He asked.

“The Take Me Home Tour Show in London, it was only one night Haz.”

“How come you never told me?”

“Do you tell me about every aspect of your sex life?” She replied quickly.

“I best leave you to get ready,” he stood up, making his way towards the door, “Quick one love, if you are going to have sex next door to me in the middle of the night could you keep it down a bit, these walls are paper thin.” He turned on his heel, smirking cheekily as he strolled out of her room.

“You’re a little shit Harry!” Ashley shouted after him.

“Love you too!” Harry shouted back, sighing to himself as he left the room.