#very belatedly i'm still sorry

[pedantic-poison]

Rulebreaker | CS55

pairing: fem brat!reader x brat tamer!carlos sainz jr

genre: smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, language, dom!carlos x brat!reader, spanking (mostly with hands, briefly with a belt), sir kink, degradation, a wee bit of praise, names used for reader (princesa, cariño, slut, good girl), fingering, unprotected p in v (use protection irl!!!), mention of safeword but no use of it, aftercare

requested: sort of based on an ask I got for another driver that I couldn't make it work for

word count: 5.3k

author's note: i hope y'all like this one! i've been working on this for ages now and it got really really long so as always feedback of any kind is much appreciated!

You knew you weren't supposed to.

You knew you really weren't supposed to.

But it had been weeks without seeing Carlos and at this point you felt like you were losing your mind, so you muster the strength to drag yourself upstairs to your bedroom.

Really it was Carlos' bedroom, since you were housesitting for him while he was gone. You weren't sure if that was making it better or worse - constantly being surrounded by his things, sleeping in his sheets, wearing his shirts because they smelled like him.

At least for right now, those last two were about to be very helpful, as you dropped yourself onto the still messy sheets you'd been sleeping in, inhaling the scent of him as you grabbed your vibe from your bedside table where you'd stashed it. You knew you weren't supposed to touch yourself, so you really didn't even know why you'd brought it in the first place, but you just needed some kind of relief - even without Carlos here to give it to you.

The fluffy pillows and sheets seemed to envelop you as you sank further in them, sighing with contentment as you started to trail your hands along your inner thighs, briefly teasing yourself through your panties before quickly discarding them, leaving you clothed only in an old t-shirt of Carlos'. His name left your lips in a breath as the vibrator made contact with your clit, tracing light circles around the bud before slowly applying more and more pressure.

You felt yourself getting wetter as you went, the shirt so oversized that it rested below your butt, meaning that when a drop of your arousal trailed down from your cunt, it landed on Carlos' shirt. It was so filthy that a moan tore out of you, harsh and unexpected, at the thought of your arousal mixing with the smell of him on the shirt, digging your face deeper into the pillow next to your head to inhale him as much as you could. Your back had started to bow off the bed, legs twitching around your hand as you fought to keep them open. Forcing your other hand to leave its spot latched onto the sheets at your side, you slowly sank a finger into yourself, just barely brushing that spot as you -

Heard your ringtone go off.

Huffing in frustration, you instinctively went to turn your phone off when you stopped to actually read the name on the screen. You dropped everything else you'd been doing, picking up the phone before it finished the third ring.

"Carlos!"

His chuckle came through the speaker first, deeper than usual, and a little bit scratchy, telling you that wherever he was (you'd lost track at this point), he'd just woken up. "Hi, cariño, how're you doing?"

"I'm fine, I miss you though," you inhaled deeper than you normally would've, the effort to catch your breath reminding you of what you'd just been doing, and just how much you were not supposed to be doing it. "A lot," you added belatedly, swallowing hard to try not to show your actions in your voice.

"I know, I miss you too. Are you taking care of yourself while I'm gone? Your voice sounds a little hoarse." He was only being sweet, but your mouth went dry at the question, mind racing to try and come up with a convincing enough excuse that- "Cariño? Are you still there?"

Shit. "Oh, um - yes! Sorry, I think the call cut out or something," you mumbled, hoping if you said it quickly enough he wouldn't think too hard about what you'd said. "But yeah, I think I might have a little cold. Nothing too bad, but my throat's been a little," you cleared your throat with a small (and hopefully convincing) cough, "sore for most of the day."

"Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that, princesa," Carlos cooed sympathetically, but there was a slight edge to his voice that you found a little odd, almost mocking. "You know how I hate it when you lie to me." Confused at how he'd found you out, you freeze, your lack of a response prompting him to explain, "I can hear your vibrator buzzing through the phone. Not that I needed that to tell what you've been doing, but that makes it pretty obvious, no?"

Your eyes went wide, darting to the vibe where it sat, abandoned and still buzzing away, where you'd thrown it down on the sheets. Shutting it off quickly, you shoved it away under the sheets, like that would make any sort of difference when he'd already heard it and knew what it was.

"Carlos, I-"

"Honestly, cariño, did you really think I wouldn't notice?" His voice had gone hard, still gruff and deep from having slept, and that ache in your core that you'd temporarily forgotten about returned tenfold at the sound of it. "Did you forget how much time I've spent memorizing all the little noises you make? The way your breathing changes when you're close? The way you either talk too slow or too fast because you can't think straight? The scratch in your voice when you've had your mouth hanging open while you moan?"

You could only clench your thighs in response, inhaling shakily at his filthy words. The idea of him being so occupied with thoughts of you and the ways you sounded when he touched you these past few weeks made you flush with heat, feeling it spread down your neck and chest, under the fabric of his shirt.

"You only had to wait a few more days, and you couldn't even manage that, could you? So disobedient, princesa," his breathing had deepened, and you realized with a start that your hand had returned to the apex of your thighs, trailing along the hem of the shirt laying atop your bare legs where they were tucked under you.

"I - I'm sorry," you finally breathed out. "I couldn't help it. You've just been gone for so long, and your rules are so unfair." Your voice took on a whine as you spoke, flopping down onto your back dramatically as you sighed. You'd been caught, so there was no real point in trying to behave anymore.

Carlos chuckled again, this time much darker than the last, "I know you think they're unfair, princesa. I can tell from how much you complain about them, and from how often you break them," voice tightening, like he was restraining himself. The sound of it sent your hand beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, creeping back towards your still exposed, still weeping cunt.

"Then maybe those rules should change," your fingers, still damp with your arousal, grazed your clit. "Since they don't seem to be working too well," the words rushed out of just a little too fast as you began to circle the bud again.

"Watch it, cariño. There's a reason you're not in charge," he warned, the exercise of authority making you whimper. "Now, be a good girl and get those fingers out of your tight little pussy."

You took a breath.

"Or what?"

Carlos' end of the call fell silent for a moment longer than you expected.

"You are playing with fire here, princesa."

The phone line clicked, and the call ended.

You tossed your phone to the end of the bed, frustrated in every way imaginable. If he was going to be such an asshole, the least he could do was let you get off to the sound of his voice while he was gone. Now, you were even more desperate than before, and in a few days' time when he returned, you knew he'd punish you.

A devilish thought occurred to you. If you were already in trouble, you might as well enjoy it then, right? Get as much out of the time before he came home as you possibly could.

You fell asleep right there later that night, satisfied (for now) and surrounded by the smell of Carlos and you mingling on his sheets. When the sun woke you, you'd slept so hard that for a brief moment the emptiness of the bed surprised you, before remembering that you still had four more days to go. And just like that, the frustration returned.

Completely undaunted by the disobedience now, you reached right down between your thighs, touching yourself to the thoughts of Carlos that had swum through your mind last night. You were so desperate.

So absorbed by the feeling of it.

So blind to anything but chasing that pleasure.

You didn't even hear the front door unlock.

Or the drop of a bag inside the doorway.

The sound of shoes walking through the living room.

Padding up the stairs.

Stopping in the threshold of the room.

Of his room.

"Dios, you are such a fucking brat."

The sound ripped you away from your fantasies, gasping as you sat straight up and nearly screaming out of shock. Carlos stood at the foot of your bed - his bed - watching you, dark eyes contrasting with the stark white shirt he wore, the first few buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His hair was mussed (though probably not as badly as yours), like he'd barely slept on the plane, and his hands, hidden by the pockets of his dress pants, were undoubtedly clenched, judging by the bulging veins in his forearms. He looked furious.

He was furious. Had been ever since that phone call with you, after hearing your voice, breathy and full of attitude. He kept being furious during the pointless meetings he had to sit through for hours about god knows what, during the entire plane ride where his head swam with thoughts of you and what he would do to you when he got his hands on you, and during his drive back to his house where his knuckles went white from his grip on the wheel. And now, looking at you, sprawled in his bed, clad only in one of his shirts, moaning his name, he couldn't hold back the intense, primal feelings of possession that flooded him. With your face hot and breaths coming fast, eyes hazy with sleep and lust, and legs spread wide in front of him, leaving your pussy on display, glistening like you were welcoming him home, he knew he would've ruined you anyways, even without your constant disobedience. You couldn't follow his rules because you needed him that badly. Needed to feel his presence even when he wasn't there. He certainly had no issue with reminding you just how much he owned you.

"Carlos... you're... home early," you mumbled, out of breath from the shock of his arrival and the buildup of pleasure it ruined.

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?" He prowled closer to the end of the bed, and you subconsciously drew yourself closer to the headboard. You swallowed hard, clamping your jaw shut and refusing to give him any sort of answer. That would only make it worse for you. But you'd long since given up on staying out of trouble with Carlos.

That certainly wasn't new information to Carlos, either, but it still grated against him when you remained silent, the stubborn set of your brows as you tried your damnedest to stare him down only stoking his need to put you in your place. Glancing down to your still spread legs, Carlos allowed his eyes to trail hungrily over you once more, before reaching forward and grasping your ankle, tugging harshly. The force of it surprised a yelp out of you, bringing a grin to Carlos' face as he situated you at the end of the bed, legs spread to make room for him between them as he stood over you.

"Oh, princesa... you do know you're in trouble, no?" Fingertips grazed over your cheek, trailing down the column of your neck. When you remained silent, the light touch of fingertips became his full palm, hand wrapping around your throat, slowly applying the tiniest bit of pressure. "It's cute, this little act of defiance you put on. Makes me want to fuck the fight right out of you." The grip tightens briefly, before disappearing altogether.

Then your face presses into the bedsheets, Carlos flipping you onto your front. He does it so easily, manhandling you with such minimal effort that it sends a thrum of heat through you. Strong, large hands roughly grope your ass cheeks, spreading them apart so he can see your cunt clearly.

"Such a needy little slut," he tsks, laughing wryly as your pussy clenches from the cold of the air and the pure filth of his words. And then, the heat of his hands and body are gone. You whine, knowing that with the mood he was in, he would make you wait and wait and wait before he followed through on his promise and actually fucked the defiance out of you (or at least tried to).

Turning your head to the side, you watch as Carlos settles himself on the side of the bed, cock already visibly hard through his trousers. "Get up," he tells, not asks, you, voice stern. The doting, adoring Carlos that you loved had taken a backseat to this almost predatory side of him, and you had to admit you loved it just as much. Opting to listen (for once) you stand up from the bed. "Good girl," he hums, pleased, "now strip for me." It's an easy enough task, shedding his shirt and letting it drop carelessly to the floor. His eyes don't leave your body for a moment, raking over your naked figure as if he'd never seen you before. Wordlessly, he patted his thigh, beckoning you to him, and you went willingly. You knew what he was telling you to do, but you still optimistically went to straddle him, earning you a swift smack to the thigh you had raised up onto the bed. "You know exactly what you're supposed to do right now, cariño. Don't make me tell you."

The contact had ratcheted up your awareness, feeling his every breath as you laid yourself across Carlos' lap, ass in the air and hands already gripping onto the bedsheets in front of you, knowing what was coming. "There, was that really so hard? Always wanting to cause trouble," he mused, hands caressing your ass again. "Always so big and brave in the beginning," his left hand traveled up your spine, tracing its path to the base of your neck. "But by the time I'm done with you, when I have you begging and shaking and crying for me, you always remember who's in charge."

The hand at the base of your neck grasped the hair there, yanking your head up and back so he could whisper into your ear. "You remember your safeword, mi amor?" he asked, checking in on you before actually starting anything.

"Yes, sir" you managed, speaking for the first time since you'd first seen him at the foot of the bed. He nodded, placing a kiss to your temple before shoving your head back down into the sheets.

Returning his left hand to the small of your back, while his right groped your ass, Carlos' voice resumed its darker timbre. "I spent a lot of time thinking about what kind of punishment you deserve for your little stunt over the phone." The thought of Carlos stewing in anger and lust for hours and hours making you shiver. "But that was before I came home to find you, knuckles deep in this needy little hole," he lets his fingers brush just barely against your entrance before retreating. "Same rules as usual, princesa: you count out loud for me, and if you miss one, we start over. You tell me when you're close, and if you come without my permission, we start over. Understood?"

Your nod earned you a sharp pinch on your cheek from where his hand had been tracing circles. "Yes, sir," you breathed out quickly, knowing by now what he was looking for.

"Good." With one final, gentle swipe of his hand, you feel his right hand leave your body, tensing in its absence. You feel its impact land, firmly, but not too harshly - yet.

"One," you breathe out, head tilted to the side to ensure he hears you clearly. He lands another spank. "Two." Harsher this time. "Three." Despite bracing yourself, you still flinch with every smack, body jolting as the sound echoes in the otherwise silent room. "Four." Your voice has already grown weaker, breathier. Heat rises where the blood has rushed to your stinging skin, already sensitive. "Five," he lands the next slap as you're inhaling to brace yourself, speeding up suddenly. "S-six, ah." Without meaning to, you squirm in his lap, earning you another quick slap that shocks a gasp out of you.

"Stop moving, princesa, or I will tie you down and make you take everything I give you," he grits out. "Got it?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"And what number was that?"

For a brief moment, your mind scrambles, distracted and overwhelmed. "S-seven?" It comes out as more of a question than an answer, and you cringe at the uncertainty of your own voice.

"You sure?" his hand stills on your ass, making your panic grow. But you can hear the lilt of his voice, can tell that he's trying to throw you off.

"Yes, sir," you answer, more confident this time.

"Good girl," he praises, but it's short lived, as another smack lands.

"Eight." The spanks are harder than they initially were, building in intensity, your skin aflame from his rough touch. "Nine." You're doing your best not to wriggle, hands clenched in the sheets like you're fighting yourself to stay put, but that doesn't stop the shakes wracking through your body. "Ten." Relief floods your body, knowing that, on a normal day, this is where Carlos stops. At this point he's gotten you drenched, arousal slicking your thighs, and part of you wonders if you've left a damp spot on his trousers. That little relief goes out the window when you feel his hand against you again, landing two harsh spanks in quick succession. "Eleven," you heave, "twelve."

The sound of Carlos' belt clinking as he removes it makes you freeze. "Carlos?" you question, voice small and unsure.

"I told you, cariño, the punishment I had planned for you at first was before I found you touching yourself, again." His left hand wraps around the front of your throat, bringing your torso up so he can speak directly into your ear once again. "The punishment needs to fit the crime, and you've been very, very bad," he coos, grazing your ass ever so slightly with the belt in his right hand. You shiver. "I'm gonna give you two with this, and then we're done with the spanking, alright, cariño?"

After a moment, you nod, and the slight tick of a pressure increase on your throat reminds you to speak your answer. "O-okay."

The leather of his belt drags against your inflamed flesh, before he pulls his hand back. He allows your head to return to the bed, resting it back against the sheets, and you hear him wrapping the belt around his right hand.

When the belt cracks against your ass, you cry out, body lurching forward, nearly leaping out of Carlos' lap before he grabs you by the hip, holding you in place. "Thirteen," you whimper out, voice breaking. Carlos' free hand rubs soothing circles against your hip, calming you down from the jolt of the impact. "Fuck, fourteen." Your breathing has gone ragged, chest heaving in an uneven, staccato pattern. You feel Carlos throwing your body around again, tossing you onto your back on the bed as you try to catch your breath.

He stands over you again, a predatory glint in his eyes, not giving you time to recover before sliding a finger straight inside of you. It punches the air out of you, your moan silent without air in your lungs to put any sound into it. Carlos chooses a rapid pace, aided by how wet you've become, and the squelch of him pressing a second digit into you is the most obscene sound you've ever heard.

"God, you look so fucking good like this, princesa. Shaking around my fingers," he curls them, hard, to make his point, grinning at the way your body reacts to the touch. "Such a desperate little slut, aren't you? My desperate little slut."

The sting of his palm landing on your inner thigh forces your eyes open. "Yes, sir - oh, fuck- only for you," you squeak out. You realize with a start that there are tears forming in your eyes, most likely from your punishment, though the way your building pleasure mixes with the pain only intensifies the feeling. The tension in your belly goes taught as Carlos' thumb begins drawing circles on your clit, arching into his touch. Everything you're feeling is so overwhelming, you almost forget yourself. "C-close, sir, I'm - ah - close."

"Yeah? You wanna come, cariño?" His eyes glint at the sound of your pleas, incoherent as they may be. "Too bad," he growls, pulling his fingers out of you as you whine at the loss of contact, earning you another light smack to your inner thigh. "Don't be greedy, amor."

"I - I'm sorry, sir," you sob out, chest heaving for breath.

Rough hands grip you by the waist and harshly yank you to the edge of the bed, flipping you onto your stomach and letting your legs hang off the bed, toes just barely skimming the ground. Carlos traces patterns on the red, raw skin of your ass, and you flinch away from the feeling without meaning to. In response, Carlos digs his hand into the hair at the base of your neck, tugging you up to speak directly into your ear.

"I'm going to fuck you now, cariño, and you're going to take everything I give you, or you don't get to come, got it?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"You going to take it like a good girl, princesa?"

"Yes, sir, yes, whatever you want, I'll be good," you fought to keep the needy edge out of your voice, not wanting to sound too demanding of him.

"Good girl," Carlos left a series of searing kisses down your neck, trailing onto your shoulder and down your back as he let you fall back down onto the bed. He hadn't even fucked you yet and you had already gone completely limp, unable to hold up your own body weight.

A large, warm hand splays across your lower back as his lips reach it, touch gentle but firm as he holds you to the bed, standing to his full height again as he yanks his trousers and boxers down just enough to pull himself out.

"Look so beautiful like this, princesa, such a pretty little slut for me," Carlos rasps out, voice low and gravelly, and you can tell just from the sound of it that he's stroking himself. Trying to make you squirm, testing to see if you'll whine at the lack of attention, or do that thing where you wiggle your ass at him to try to get him inside you. But at least for the time being, you're done misbehaving. You need him too badly to risk it being taken away again.

"Just for you, sir. Only you," you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear so he doesn't think you're demanding anything, throwing a glance over your shoulder that you hope strikes the right balance between obedience and seduction.

Based on the way his eyes darken and the hand spread on your back presses done just the tiniest bit more firmly, you're pretty sure you succeeded.

You know you did when he starts to slide into you, eyes staying on yours as both of his hands land on your waist. The feeling of him pushing into you, on top of the thought of just how much of you his hands manage to cover, has your head dropping back down onto the bed with a moan.

Carlos' mouth tilts up in a grin at how quickly you fold, how immediately you become pliant once his dick is in you. Hell, he hasn't even bottomed out yet, and you're already squirming and whining and clawing at the sheets. "Taking me so well, princesa," he coos, just as he snaps his hips flush with yours, filling you up the last few inches suddenly. The combination of him completely filling you, and the praise makes your head spin, and he knows it. It's why he knows to hold back the praise, to mix it in with the degradation, because that makes it all the more potent when he finally gives it. When you finally earn it. Plus, you get off on disobeying him too much for him to not make you work for it - otherwise, you'd have turned into a little monster by now. The thought makes him grin further to himself, thinking that at least you're his little monster.

He knows your body too well. Carlos can tell from the way you're squirming that you're beyond desperate for him to move, but that you're trying even more desperately to be good for him, to hold still, to take what he gives you and not demand anything more. Kisses trail down your back and shoulders, and even though you can feel the smile on his lips, you don't have the mental strength to process what it means right now. Carlos likes it when you have to try like this, likes that he can do this to you, can make you this needy for him, and that despite all of that, your need to please him, to be good for him, overrides your own desire for pleasure. For all of your talk and pretended disobedience, the moment he's in you, you submit to him completely. When he thinks about it too hard, it makes his cock throb inside you.

The sound of your whimpers draws Carlos back out of his thoughts, the noises escaping despite your best efforts. "Being a good little slut now that you're full of my cock, huh? Fuck, princesa, I love those pathetic little noises you make." He bends over you again to speak directly into your ear, and you whine at the way it makes him shift inside you. "I want you to let me hear every single one, cariño. Don't hold back on me, no?"

"I w-won't, sir. I won't, promise," you babble. At this point, you were willing to say damn near anything as long as it meant he would start moving.

"Good girl," he purrs, staying bent over you as he slowly pulls out until just the head of his cock remains inside you. Again, he pauses there for a moment, relishing the way you whimpered as he moved. Then, after he's had his fill of making you squirm in need, he thrusts back in, hard. It knocks the breath out of you, forcing a sharp cry from your mouth at the sudden and harsh way he fills you back up. He continues the pace like that, pulling out slow and thrusting back in with as much force as he can, hips slapping your already raw and sensitive ass when they meet yours.

You keep your promise to Carlos, letting every little sound he elicits from you out unabashedly, your small ah-ah's turning almost into shouts each time his hips are flush with yours. His hot breath on your neck and his broad, firm chest pressed to your back make it impossible to think about anything other than Carlos, Carlos, Carlos. The way his body cages yours in while he manhandles you, pulling your hips to where he wants them, has your moans ripping out of your chest with even more force. As Carlos starts to snap his hips faster, not pulling out all the way in favor of increasing his pace, each thrust punches noises out of you, becoming increasingly embarrassing the more worked up he gets you.

"Fuuuck, that's it, cariño, let me hear you, let me hear how good I make you feel," he encourages, one hand snaking into the hair at the base of your skull to force your face out from its hiding place in the bedsheets. "Wanna hear how much you like it when I fuck you like this. You like this, princesa? You like taking my cock like a good little slut?"

You can only whine desperately, nodding as best you can with Carlos' grip on your hair tightening. "Yeah? Say it, then, princesa. Tell me how much you love taking my cock."

It takes you a moment to process his words, mind feeling hazy from the lust and from returning to the brink of your orgasm, and the delay has Carlos fucking into you just the slightest bit harsher. "Fuck! I - I like it! I love t-taking your cock, sir, love b-being your s-slut, please," you gasp out the last word, the air forced from your lungs by the combination of the force of his thrusts and his other hand landing on your clit.

"Please what? Use your words, princesa." At first, the only response he gets is your high-pitched squeal as his fingers press harsh circles into your clit. "Come on, cariño, you can do it, use your words and tell me what my little slut wants."

"P-please, sir, please let me come, please sir, please," you babble, words becoming incoherent shortly after, devolving into whimpers and keens that resemble words like please and sir over and over again.

"Aw, look at you, cariño, using your words and asking so sweetly," he coos, causing your face to flush with heat even further at the mixture of praising and teasing words. "Alright, princesa, you can come. Come all over my cock for me, yeah? Come all over me so I can fill you up, wanna feel you clenching around me when I come in you," Carlos begins to ramble. Getting closer and closer, he tips over the edge as you come around him, walls squeezing tight around his pulsating cock as it throbs in you, marking you from the inside out.

Carlos doesn't pull out right away, basking in the feel of you wrapped around him, head resting between your shoulder blades as he gropes your ass. Occasionally, he squeezes particularly hard, and you whimper from the sensitivity, drawing a deep chuckle out of him that reverberates against the bare skin of your back. Carlos begins leaving kisses down the line of your spine, slowly drawing out of you.

Your body sags even further into the bed, completely spent, and you jolt away from him when you feel two large fingers at your entrance. With his other hand, Carlos grips your hip, holding you in place, as he watches his cum drip out of you, slowly pushing it back in with his fingers. "Can't let this go to waste, cariño. Got to make sure you remember who's in charge, no?"

You nod weakly, no energy or desire left to fight him (for now). Once Carlos is satisfied with his reminder to you, he rises, gently pulling you off of the bed and into his arms. He scoops you up easily, cradling you as he walks to the bathroom and gets the water running, kissing your head softly and murmuring praise as he sits on the edge of the tub, holding you to him tightly. Your body curls into the warmth of him, allowing yourself to be cared for since you're not even sure you could stand on your own right now. He says something about not falling sleep just yet, and then he's lifting you into the bath, smiling fondly at the pout you throw his way when he stops holding you. "Don't worry, cariño, I'm not going anywhere," Carlos hums, slipping in behind you and pulling you to his chest. "I'm staying right here."

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: kwon soonyoung

love at first sight (or meet cute au)

'did you hear wedding bells ring? cause that's what i heard when i saw you'

it wasn't supposed to happen. hoshi knew better but he's been sitting at the hotel whole day and boredom clung to his whole body like that stupid fly on the ceiling that refused to budge no matter how many pillows you threw her way. and he knows that it's all for his own safety, knows that fans went ballistic since they learned he landed in this city and he knows that his managers actually want only the best for him. it's just their version of best for him is basically imprisoning him in the hotel and hoshi's version of best for him is letting him roam around the city unguarded. so yes, him walking out of the hotel unsupervised was not supposed to him but oh well, it's too late to think about it now that he's hiding in the very first shop he saw on his way, running away from overly excited fans.

said shop turned out to be a small coffee shop in a ghibli movie characters theme. it's cute, hoshi notes from his position behind the counter. he climbed here the second he entered, quickly realizing that hiding under the tables will not help him. there's no one in the cafe and he has half a mind to call someone from staff when door from his left opens and a person walks in. hoshi instantly shoots up, apologies on his tongue when you finally look up and- oh.

not many things can leave hoshi speechless; he's been in this business for such a long time that it feels like he's seen it all, even some stuff that he wishes he could un-see. he's very used to perfect faces, perfect settings, perfect speeches - he's been trained to know what to say in any situations but right now he's at loss. you are so-

'what the hell you are doing standing behind the counter?!'

-rude. yeah. blinking, he snaps back to reality instead of getting lost in your eyes. it's almost five and sun dances beautifully on your face, it illuminates all your features with an orange glow and he wishes he had a camera with him because whoa.

'i'm gonna call police if you don't step back.' there's slight tremor in your voice but you still try to look confident. 'how did you even-'

'door was open!' hoshia blurts out in his defense, belatedly realizing that this is not a good excuse for hiding behind the counter, where only staff members can go. 'i had to hide, i'm so sorry, but they would've spot me if i chose just take any table.'

your face is very expressive. miriads of emotions change themselves until you settle on confusion. 'hide from who- oh my god, are you a gang member?'

'i-what-' hoshi sputters, looking himself up and down. does he look like a gang member? 'no, i'm- uh, a singer. popular one.'

hoshi is not sure why he added the last bit but it's too late to take it back now. your gaze focuses on his face and he takes this time to study you too. it's hard to pinpoint why, but there's something so interesting and fascinating about you (apart from you generally being really, really pretty). like hoshi could stare at you all day and not get bored, could see you as his muse even.

'okay,' you exhale, looking very done. 'okay. you are a singer. a popular one. hiding from..fans, i presume?' hoshi nods. 'okay. that still doesn't mean that you can stand here.'

hoshi moves like a lightning, quickly jumping to the other side. you're not wearing any badge with a name and he suddenly really needs to know your name. 'sorry again. uh-' he looks around, trying to keep the conversation going. 'can i get one ice americano, please? name is soonyoung, by the way.'

you look... amused. baffled. shocked. hoshi likes how he can pull out so many emotions from you but he is yet to see you smile and that makes him sad. 'okay, soonyoung. one ice americano coming right up, anything else?'

'your name,' hoshi says, beaming, not caring how awfully cheesy that sounded. he goes for a killer: 'i can't keep callling you 'pretty girl' in my mind.'

and there you go, there's your smile. it sets fireworks in his chest and his grin broadens. you look much better with that smile on your face, he decides and proceeds to tell you this loudly as well.

'thank you,' you say, blushing but also laughing.

you don't say your name but laughter is good, hoshi decides. laughter is almost love, no? it can start with a laughter, he is sure. his mind conjures thousands of pick up lines that can you make laugh and maybe, just maybe, if he makes you laugh often enough you'll tell him your name. and then he can get your number and then he can facetime you from whenever and will always be able to look at your pretty face. now that's a solid plan in hoshi's mind and he's never happier for not listening to his managers and running away from the fans because meeting you is worth it ten times over.

a/n: and i finished my 'seventeen members as love tropes' series with hoshi! hope you liked it, let me know! - nini

my other seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

[lihhelsing]

I hate you (don't leave me)

Written (belatedly) for the last day of @steddieangstyaugust

Day 31: "I'm not going to beg you to love me." CW: Angst. Unhappy Ending. Post break-up Steddie. Steddie | Angst | T&Up | 700 words

(Listen, I was in a mood of writing something sad for the sake of it and that's what I did. Don't say I didn't warn you)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Eddie couldn't stay. He knew that. Robin had informed him of that when she told him he could come. 

"You can come. But you absolutely cannot stay," she said on a static filled call at three am. 

Eddie was desperate when he called her. He was at a party and had to find the closest phone. He dialed the only number he knew by heart hoping he would pick up, but he got Robin instead.

It figured, her being there. 

"Thank you," he said to her but she had just hung up on him. 

And now he was here. In Steve's living room, watching him as he tried his hardest not to cry. It made Eddie's insides twist.

"Will you stay?" Steve asked, voice so fucking small it punched a hole in his chest. 

"I..." Eddie started, voice faltering. "I can't stay, Stevie. I'm sorry." 

Steve's face fell and Eddie knew what it came after. The anger. The rage. 

"Fuck you. You can't just show up here whenever and keep breaking my heart," he spitted and Eddie flinched.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just needed to get the rest of my shit so I can leave you alone for good." 

Steve let out a mean laugh. If he had set his things on fire, Eddie wouldn't blame him. 

Leaving Steve had been the hardest thing Eddie had ever done. He didn't want to, but it was his only shot. His chance at finally making it. 

And he needed to make it. He needed to have something that he could call his, otherwise he would just resent him forever. 

And then, they wouldn't make it. 

But he thought... he hoped Steve would understand. Eddie wasn't saying that they would never be together again, just that he needed to do this for him.

Just this one thing.

It was safe to say Steve didn't take it very well. It was a nasty fight. One that ended with Steve throwing Eddie's things on the street, right along with him.

It ended with so much heartbreak Eddie was still recovering. And it ended with them, standing in front of each other with nothing to say. 

"Stevie, I'm really sorry," Eddie said and he could feel the void taking over. He could feel Steve checking out of their conversation because he was done. He was done with Eddie for good.

"You're not. You made a decision and you didn't consult me on that. And that's fine, Eddie. It really is. I don't know how many times I can keep telling you this." 

"It's not fine," Eddie said, trying for something even if he didn't know what. Steve was angry and upset, and it was all Eddie's fault.

"No. It's not. But the time to be sad about it has passed and I'm done being sad about you. But please, stop apologizing just because you want to feel better about yourself." 

Was that what he was trying to do? He was sorry. Maybe he could've handled things a little better. But he couldn't possibly ask Steve to leave his life behind so Eddie could follow a dumb dream. Steve had so many people that counted on him. That loved him. 

"It's ok if you don't believe me," he said, sighing. This was a lost battle, and he knew it. "But I am sorry. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you." 

Steve's eyes sparked with something different and scary and Eddie knew he had crossed a line. 

"Funny you say that. You did hurt me but not because you left. Just because you let me believe you loved me. And I know... Listen, Eddie. I'm not going to beg you to love me. And it's fine that you don't. Just... leave." 

Eddie wanted to argue. He wanted to take Steve's face in his hands and he wanted to tell him just how much he loved him. How that was as far from the problem as it could be. But Steve seemed so fragile right now that Eddie wasn't sure that was the right move. 

In fact, he knew it wasn't. Steve was used to people leaving. And he already accepted Eddie was going to leave because he didn't love him and he knew there was nothing he could do to change that. Not right now. Not without starting a war with Buckley. 

So he nodded, feeling his heart shattering to pieces inside of him as he walked away from Steve. For good. 

[ellecdc]

I went to get my teeth checked today and kept on thinking abt how Lily would be a great dentist. Gentle hands, nonjudgmental, would be so accommodating to any requests or requirements you have like noise cancelling headphones or something…. And she would be soooo against the trend of recommending treatment purely based on cosmetics rather than need. Like we have doctor Remus how about dentist Lily 😂😂

you know what? this was so cute that I had to write it - also, the conversations between reader and Lily are real-life conversations I've had with dental hygienists so be nice to me, I'm still recovering hahhaah

dentist!Lily Evans x reader who goes for a routine checkup

CW: written with a fem!reader in mind and references to a medieval woman accused of witchcraft but should be gender neutral/no pronouns used otherwise, reader has a brother for plot purposes, reader had braces growing up for plot purposes, reader has a bar on the back of their teeth for plot purposes, also.....reader doesn't floss DON'T JUDGE

You were lying back on the large vinyl-covered dentist chair pondering what exactly it was about dentists that caused so many people anxiety.

This was obviously a distraction, though, as wondering why dentists were so fear-inducing was far more comfortable than thinking about how anxious you felt right now.

You supposed that as a species, humans were wholly dependent on their mouths; it was how they ate, how they emote, a method of air intake, and also how they communicate. For hunter-gatherers, an injury to one's mouth could very well have led to dire consequences.

Of course, something happening to one's mouth wouldn’t necessarily leave them completely helpless in today's day in age with modern medicine.

And though you may not have been a hunter-gatherer, you were also decidedly not a medieval woman accused of witchcraft awaiting your trial by ordeal. But the longer it took Dr. Evans to join you - leaving you ample time to consider the various torture looking devices while reclined on this chair that looked like it could sprout restraints at any moment - the more you began to feel an awful lot like a medieval woman accused of witchcraft awaiting her trial by ordeal. 

The sound of the door clicking shut interrupted your spiralling as you tried to sit up straighter in your chair only to slide back down to your original position. 

But perhaps this wasn’t your trial by ordeal; perhaps they’d already gone ahead and executed you and you were actually sitting in heaven’s dentist office because surely the beautiful woman adorned in scrubs standing before you with long, thick red hair which had been artfully plaited away from her face was an angel? 

You realised belatedly that you’d been sitting there with your mouth agape staring at her instead of confirming your name for her.

“Yes! Yes, erm, sorry.”

But the angel - Dr. Evan’s, she introduced herself as but insisted you just call her Lily - simply waved you off and pulled a stool over to sit beside you. 

“No need to be sorry! Between the constant whirring of machines and my penchant to speak a mile a minute, it can be hard to keep up sometimes. So! You’re here for a routine cleaning?”

You nodded dumbly at her as she pulled a surgical mask up over her mouth and nose, mesmerised by the way it seemed to accentuate the brilliant green of her eyes which only appeared even greener when she smiled at you.

“Alright, well let’s take a peek at what we’re working with here, shall we?” She asked as she encouraged you to lay back after putting a bib on you like some nappy-wearing child.

Oh god; you didn’t know an angel was going to be looking in your mouth! You were expecting some grey-haired bored doctor with a superiority complex; now an angel will know you don’t floss!

“Wait!” You shouted abruptly, startling the angel doctor and encouraging her to put some space between you, though she schooled her expression very quickly. “Okay, listen, I’m sorry. But you see, I had braces as a kid, and they put these bars behind my teeth! You know, to keep them from shifting? And they’re great - so great, no complaints truly; they’ve done their job, see!” You paused to bare your teeth at her like some socially awkward chimpanzee. “No shifting at all. But! But, you see, my teeth are so sodding close together now - again, totally fine! - but between that and the glue and the bar, it’s sodding impossible to floss. Oh shit I just said sodding to a doctor! Oh my god I just said shit! I’m sorry! I just don’t want you to think I’m some plebeian who doesn’t care about dental hygiene because I do! But I honest to god, hand to my heart walked around with a piece of floss stuck between my teeth for three days after I tried last so I just...sorry…”

You fought to catch your breath and it took you possibly too long to realise the angel doctor Lily was laughing at you; the mask impeded the smile but the crinkles in the corners of her emerald eyes and the gentle shaking of her shoulders gave her away. 

“I’m so sorry, I honestly thought you were about to tell me you were going to throw up on me - which would be fine! Worse things have happened quite frankly.” She chuckled as she seemed to relax back into her stool. “Why don’t we take a look?”

Burning with embarrassment, you did as you were told and opened your mouth immediately, wondering if it was at all possible for her to feel your jack-hammer pulse through the barely there fingertips pressed to your jaw as she peered into your mouth. 

“Well honestly, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of build up anyway! I wouldn’t have known you’d not been flossing.”

“Wait, really?” You asked then, causing her to move her gaze from your mouth to your eyes. 

“There’s a little bit of plaque but nothing out of the ordinary! Basically what I would expect to see from someone coming in for a routine check up.” She confirmed before taking one of her torture devices (a dental scraper) to your teeth as you watched her auburn brows cinch closer together. “Your teeth really are close together.” She murmured mostly to herself.

“I wasn’t lying.” You defended quickly, earning you a bright and bubbly laugh from the doctor. 

“Sorry; force of habit. I hear a lot of ‘I absolutely brush my teeth twice a day’ and ‘I floss regularly’ when I can easily see that neither of those things are true.”

After she had explained what she was going to do, you spent the better part of the appointment with her fingers shoved into your mouth. 

“I do not envy your orthodontist; you have a very small mouth.”

You snorted inelegantly at that as she removed her hands from your face. “My brother would disagree.”

You were rewarded with another tinkering laugh as she inspected her cleaning. “Don’t worry about the flossing hun; I’d rather you come in and have me do a cleaning for you than to hurt yourself or damage your teeth trying to floss.”

“I’m not in trouble?”

“Even if I did have the authority to scold you, you would not be in trouble. But I hope to see you in another six to twelve months for another cleaning!” She said as she walked backwards from the room with one last (now maskless) smile in your direction.

Suddenly, dentists didn’t seem so scary, and you found yourself rather looking forward to your next appointment.

[spockfallsinlove]

Prompt: Spock’s hands are injured and since Vulcan hands are so sensitive he can’t help but cry about it

"Shit," Jim is saying, over and over, as he digs the salve out of his bag. "Shit, hang on, shit—"

Spock, for his part, is biting down on his cheek so hard that he tastes blood, his hands held out in front of him and shaking. The burns aren't severe, but the pain is enough for his telepathic bonds to be burned themselves.

The storm rages outside the cave they've found themselves in. Lightning had struck as they were running to find shelter, causing a fire. Jim was trapped and Spock didn't give it a second thought when he pulled the burning debris off of Jim, his hands scalding from the embers.

"Jim," he croaks out, his voice shaking despite his best efforts. He doesn't know what he's asking for.

Jim uncaps the salve, hands steady as he scoops out a dollop. "This will hurt," he says. "I'm sorry."

Spock grits his teeth and lets out a small cry of pain as Jim, as careful as he is, painfully applies the salve to the burns dotting Spock's fingertips. Jim then wraps each finger in medical tape, wincing at every hiss and sharp breath that Spock takes.

"The comms," Spock manages to get out, "are they—"

"Still down because of the storm." Jim sits back on his heels, face pale and drawn. He wipes his forehead with his arm. "Damn it, Spock. I'm sorry."

"It's of no consequence," Spock lies, biting down harder on his cheek. The pain is mounting; not just the burn, but the lack of feeling he has in his hands. It's like he's been thrown into the dark with nothing but fire and pain to accompany him.

Something in his face must betray the true extent of his pain because Jim suddenly looks stricken, eyes wide. Spock realizes, belatedly, that there are tears streaming down his cheeks.

"What can I do?" Jim asks, his voice steadier than the panic Spock sees in his eyes.

"I cannot—" Spock sucks in a breath. Tries to steady himself, unsuccessfully. "Without touch..."

Jim nods, like he understands. With Spock, he always seems to understand. "Your telepathy. It's dependent on your hands."

"Yes. It's..." Spock squeezes his eyes shut at another wave of pain. "The burns are painful. But the lack of connection to my environment may be... worse."

Jim grips Spock's wrists, which are undamaged from the flames. It's like a balm over Spock's wounds; an anchor in the darkness. Jim's expression is intent. "What about my touch? Does it help?"

Spock could sigh with relief. It's like he's found home again, after groping in the dark for so long. "Yes," he says, gratefully.

Jim's hands grip just a fraction tighter, his fingers imprinting into Spock's skin. "Then I will continue to do so, as long as you need it."

The pain is already receding, Spock falling into the comforting warmth that is Jim's presence. "That may be a very long time," he says, a little more honestly than he would like.

Jim smiles. He releases one of Spock's wrists, but only to run a thumb across Spock's temple. "Forever, if you need it," he promises softly.

[gintrinsic-writing]

Hi there. I always read fics where Warriors doesnt know that Time is Mask. But i was thinking why not the reverse? Children don't have that strong of a memory. So although Time remembers the Captain from the war and how much he meant to him, he didn't quite make the connection that he and Wars are one and the same. Meanwhile Wars over here is very proud of his little brother and also constantly trying to offer him hugs and giving him like a bedtime or something and Time is like ???

Do with prompt what you like, maybe when time finally makes the connection.

Also it's totally alright if you don't feel like writing it, no pressure. <3

Sorry this is uhhhhh two years late, Anon. I made it a little silly. :)

--

It was probably the scarring, Warriors mused, idly thumbing the thickened tissue that pulled at his nose and lips. No matter how prettily he attempted to smile, his expression bore a perpetual grimace. It didn't seem fair, but that was life, after all. The end of the war hadn't quelled any of the resentment from those who believed that the Hero should've been quicker, or smarter, or stronger; if anything, the peace that had followed merely gave them time to redirect their ire, and their blades. Warriors hadn't been able to feel his right cheek for nearly a year.

He imagined the length of his hair didn't help the situation either. It was longer, now, and it curled around his jaw if he didn't apply any product. Warriors rather liked it like that, maybe especially because of the way it looked nothing like the practical cut he'd sported during the war.

But still, surely Time recognized him. Yes, he'd gained a few healthy pounds, and he cared about things like moisturizers and conditioners when he'd never before had the chance to, but goddesses above, the scarf was pretty recognizable, and so was his "annoying, posh-ass accent," or so he'd believed.

He certainly remembered Mask, regardless of the decades that must've passed for the other hero.

But they'd been traveling together for days at this point, all nine of them, and Time's countenance revealed not even a semblance of familiarity whenever he looked Warriors's way. And that was...

Well, not great.

So Warriors waited for the right time, and when the younger heroes went off on some questionable exploration of a something called a "fire fruit orchard," he sidled up to the Hero of Time with the closest thing he could manage to a grin. "Portals," he began with a conspiring wink, "am I right?"

Time didn't seem to share his amusement. Not even for camaraderie's sake. "Are you not going to follow the others?"

"No, they'll be fine." Probably. Mostly. "I figured you and I should take the time to talk."

"Hm." Time busied himself with cleaning the back of one of his gauntlets. The metal practically gleamed already. "About what?"

Not one to be deterred, Warriors stepped closer. "It's only right that we get to know each other. Call it bonding, or... unmasking." He paused, waiting to see if the joke connected, and he couldn't help but lean forward to bump their shoulders together just like he'd done to Mask dozens of times during the war.

Somehow, he ended up on his ass. Literally.

"Not interested," Time answered flatly, drawing his leg back as if he hadn't just stepped aside and tripped Warriors with it.

A blushed warmed one side of Warriors's face, and he cleared his throat. Belatedly, he remembered to stand up. "I only meant--"

"I know what you meant." Time held up his left hand. A plain silver ring decorated his fourth finger. "But I'm taken, jackass."

"That's--I didn't--Mask--"

"Try that euphemism one more time, and I promise you won't experience a single peaceful night on this goddess forsaken journey."

Warriors stared, and for once, Time stared back. The look in his eye was fucking terrifying. Warriors couldn't help but admire the man, even if his skin crawled from the intensity of that stare. After what felt like one of the most dangerous moments of his life, he finally sighed and threw up his hands. "Do you truly not remember me, you brat?"

Time blinked, then narrowed his eye. "Should I?" As if it was a threat!

"Captain Link?" Warriors tried, drawling a little out of frustration. "Time travel? The War Across the Ages? Any of that ring a bell?"

For a moment, it seemed like Time had truly forgotten, then his jaw dropped; the stupidity of the look suited him. "Captain?"

"Nayru's sake, yes!" Warriors scoffed, feeling his scarred lip catch briefly. "I can't believe it took you so--Oof!"

He ended up on his ass again. This time, Time was on the ground with him. All things considered, it wasn't the worst hug he'd ever received. Not by far.

[kmomof4]

To Sir Graham, With Love Ch. 9

We made it, y'all!!! It's the FINAL CHAPTER!!!! Sorry, not sorry for the first several scenes of this chapter... but y'all know me, the happy ending is GUARANTEED, and I have to admit, I'm pretty proud of this one!!!!

Thank you once again to @jrob64 and @whimsicallyenchantedrose for their outstanding beta services and to @motherkatereloyshipper for her BEAUTIFUL artwork above. I really can't stop staring at it!! It's so perfect!!!!

And also happy happy happiest of birthday's @snowbellewells!!!!! I'm BEYOND THRILLED that you loved this fic so much!!!! I hope this last chapter is the proverbial cherry on top of a huge ice cream sundae!!! I'm posting this ch a little early because Marta is home sick today, so I'm hoping this will help her feel better by putting a huge smile on her face!!!

Summary: After a year long secret correspondence, twenty-eight year old spinster Ruby Jones decides to accept Sir Graham Humbert's offer of a visit to see if they might suit for marriage. Unfortunately, he failed to mention that he was the father of twins, and they are not thrilled with Ruby's appearance.

Rating: M (smut and mentions of physical abuse) There is a love scene in this ch, but according to @whimsicallyenchantedrose - who doesn't read or write smut - it's very mild, more smut adjacent than anything, so it is not sectioned off like the scenes in previous chs. If you still want to skip it, stop reading when Graham places Ruby on the bed and pick back up at the next scene change line.

Words: 8k of 68k

Tags: Red Hunter Fic, Birthday Fic, Inspired by Eloise Bridgerton's Story, Smut

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Ch

On Tumblr Prologue Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells  @djlbg

@lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica

@laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter

@ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite

@jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779

@kymbersmith-90 @suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love 

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

… I do not tell you often enough, dear Mother, how very grateful I am that I am yours. It is a rare parent who would offer a child such latitude and understanding. It is an even rarer one who calls a daughter friend. I do love you, dear Mama.

– from Ruby Jones to her mother, Alice, upon refusing her sixth offer of marriage

~*~*~*~*~*~

The ride to Killian and Emma’s was anything but comfortable and by the time Ruby arrived, her foul mood was even worse. And then when Graves opened the door and stared at her as if she was a madwoman, she nearly lost her temper completely. 

Until she noticed the look upon his face.

“Graves?” she asked, when it became clear that he was beyond speech.

“Are they expecting you?” he asked, finally gathering himself together.

“Uh, no,” she said, drawing out the final word. “But I hardly think…”

Graves stepped aside - belatedly remembering himself - finally allowing her entrance. “It’s Miss Alice,” he said, referring to Killian and Emma’s oldest child, only five years old. “She’s quite ill.”

Ruby gasped, something awful rising in her throat. “What is it?” she asked, not bothering to hide her urgency. “Is she…” She couldn’t get the rest of the question out, just letting the words dangle, her meaning quite clear.

“I’ll get Mrs. Jones,” he said, turning quickly and scurrying up the stairs.

“No, wait!” Ruby called, wanting to ask him more questions, but he was already gone.

She slumped into a chair, feeling positively sick with worry for her small niece but also rather disgusted with herself for coming here to complain to her sister-in-law about something that didn’t even signify when compared to this.

“Ruby!”

It was Killian, not Emma that came down the stairs. He looked awful - his eyes red-rimmed, his hair in complete disarray, his skin pale and pasty. Ruby didn’t bother asking how long it had been since he slept. The answer was blatantly obvious. He hadn’t closed his eyes in days.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I just came for a visit,” she explained. “Just to say hello. I had no idea! What’s wrong with her? She was fine last week!”

Killian took several moments to answer. “She has a fever. She woke up fine on Saturday, but by luncheon…” He sagged against the wall, unable to go on. “I don’t know what to do, Ruby.”

“What did the doctor say?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, scrubbing his hand down his face. “Nothing useful anyway.”

“May I see her?”

Killian nodded, his eyes closed.

“You need to rest,” Ruby said.

“I can’t.”

“You must,” she insisted. “You’re no good to anyone like this. And I’d wager Emma is the same.”

“I made her sleep an hour ago,” he said. “She looked like death.”

“And you look no better,” Ruby said drily. She purposefully kept her tone no nonsense and business-like. Anything softer and Killian would break down completely. And if Killian broke down, she would break down and no one needed that at the moment. “You must go to bed,” she continued. “Now. I will care for Alice.”

He didn’t respond. He was literally asleep while still on his feet. Ruby took charge, directing Graves to get Killian into bed while she took over the sickroom, trying desperately to contain her gasp of dismay when she entered the room and saw her small niece. 

She was so tiny and pale on the bed, but her skin was flushed and her half-lidded eyes were glazed as she thrashed around, mumbling incoherently.

Ruby mopped her brow, turned her, and helped the maids change the sheets when they became drenched with sweat. So focussed was she on her charge, that she didn’t notice when the sun slipped below the horizon. She just thanked God that little Alice didn’t worsen under her care, because according to the servants, Killian and Emma hadn’t left her side for two days straight, and Ruby didn’t think she could survive having to wake them with bad news.

She sat next to the bed, read aloud from her niece's favorite book of Fairy Tales, and told her stories of when her father was a boy. She didn’t think Alice heard a word she said, but it kept her from sitting still and doing nothing. It wasn’t until Emma rose from her stupor around eight that evening and asked about Graham that it occurred to Ruby he might be worried about her. She immediately penned a hastily scribbled note and sent it on to Romney Hall before resuming her vigil. Graham would understand.

~*~*~

By eight o’clock, Graham was forced to the conclusion that one of two things had happened. Either his wife had left him, or she was dead on the side of the road in a carriage accident.

Neither prospect was terribly appealing.

He didn’t think she would leave him. The argument this afternoon notwithstanding, she seemed happy in their marriage and she hadn’t taken a bag with her, but then again, most of her belongings hadn’t yet arrived from London, so she wouldn’t be leaving much behind. Nothing but a husband and two children.

And good God, he’d just told them he thought she was here to stay.

No. She wouldn’t leave him. She didn’t possess a cowardly bone in her body and if she were truly unhappy in their marriage, she’d tell him to his face. Without mincing words and with great vehemence.

Which meant that he’d likely find her on the side of the road. It had been raining steadily all evening and the road between Romney Hall and My Cottage was not well tended to begin with.

Hell, it would be better if she had left him.

But as he strode up the front walk to the door of My Cottage, soaking wet and in a terrible mood, it was looking more like Ruby had decided to abandon him. Abandon them.

“Temper,” he mumbled to himself. Because he’d never been closer to losing his.

Perhaps there was a logical explanation, he thought as he slammed the knocker against the door. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to ride home in the rain. It wasn’t that bad, but it was more than a drizzle. 

Maybe her carriage had broken a wheel. No, Killian would have sent her home in his carriage then. He lifted the knocker again and banged it against the door multiple times.

Maybe…

Maybe…

He tried to think of something, anything, that might explain why Ruby was at the home of her brother instead of her own. He couldn’t think of a one. He reached for the knocker again, prepared to wrench it from the door and chuck it into the rain when the door finally opened. 

Graves stood there, his mouth hanging open in complete surprise.

“My wife,” Graham growled.

“Sir Graham!” Graves, exclaimed.

Graham didn’t move, simply wiped the rain from his face.

“My wife,” he ground out again.

“She’s here,” Graves informed him. “Come in.”

Graham finally stepped inside. “I want my wife,” he said again. “Now.”

“Let me take your coat.”

“I don’t give a damn about my coat!” Graham roared. “Get me my wife!”

“Did you not receive Lady Humbert’s note?” Graves asked.

“No,” Graham informed him. “I received no note.”

Graves nodded. “I thought you’d arrived rather quickly. You must have passed along the road. Let me take your coat,” he said again. “I believe you’ll be here for some time and you will want to be comfortable,” the man said softly. 

A fear he’d never known gripped Graham’s heart. Had something happened to Ruby? He’d just found his children, he couldn’t lose his wife. As he followed Graves up the stairs, his heart and lips murmured silent prayers.

~*~*~

Ruby sat by her niece’s beside, hands clutched in her lap, murmuring, “Please. Please.”

The doctor had left for the second time that day declaring it “in God’s hands.” And if He was the only One Who could do anything about this, then He was the One to Whom she would appeal. When she wasn’t placing cool cloths on Alice’s head, or spooning luke-warm broth between her niece’s lips, that was.

She heard a noise from the doorway and turned to see Graham. Her heart leapt to see him and she flung herself into his arms, heedless that he was soaked to the bone.

“Oh, Graham,” she sobbed, feeling his strong warm arms around her. She was safe and she could finally let go of all the emotions she’d bottled up inside in order to be the rock Killian and Emma needed.

“I thought it was you,” he whispered.

“What?” she asked, drawing back and looking him in the face.

“Graves,” he explained. “He didn’t tell me anything as I was coming up. I thought something had happened to you,” he said, drawing her close again and kissing the crown of her head. “How is she?”

Ruby pulled back and turned toward the sickbed. “Not good,” she murmured.

Graham glanced at Killian and Emma, who’d risen to greet him. They both looked rather not good themselves.

“How long has she been like this?” he asked.

“Since Saturday morning,” Emma replied. Graham approached the bed and placed his large hand on Alice’s forehead.

He shook his head. “I can’t tell. I’m too cold from the rain.”

“She’s feverish,” Killian confirmed.

“What’s been done for her?” Graham asked.

Emma’s eyes widened with a desperate hope. “Do you know something of medicine?” she asked.

“We’ve kept cool cloths on her forehead, fed her broth, and warmed her when she grew too cold. Nothing seems to help,” Killian said hopelessly. Suddenly, Emma collapsed, crumpling to the floor sobbing.

“Emma!” Killian cried, falling down next to her and holding her as she cried. Graham and Ruby both looked away when they realized Killian was crying too.

“Willow bark tea,” Graham whispered to Ruby. “Has she had any?”

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “Why?”

“It’s something I learned at Cambridge,” he said. “It used to be given for pain before laudanum became so popular, but one of my professors insisted that it also reduced fevers.”

Ruby nodded and turned to her brother and sister-in-law. She marched right over and shook Killian’s shoulder.

“Willow bark tea,” she said matter-of-factly. “Do you have any?”

Killian just stared at her blinking for a moment before answering. “I don’t know,” he stammered.

“Mrs. Miner might,” Emma said, referring to one half of the couple that had been caretakers of My Cottage for years. They had all but adopted her when she and Killian were here for nearly a fortnight while he recovered from his own fever after they’d been reunited. “She always has things like that. But they’re visiting their daughter and won’t be home for several more days.”

“Can you get into their house?” Graham asked. “I’ll recognize it if she has any. It won’t be a tea, just the bark. We’ll soak it in hot water. It might help bring down the fever.”

Emma wiped away her tears, her eyes bewildered. “You want to cure my daughter with the bark of a tree?” she asked.

“It certainly can’t hurt anything,” Killian said forcefully. “Come on, Humbert. I have a key to their house. I’ll take you myself.” Before they went out the front door, Killian stopped and looked hard at Graham. “Do you know what you’re about?” he asked quietly.

Graham looked him right in the eyes, and answered as honestly as he could. “I hope so.” He struggled not to squirm under Killian’s scrutiny. It was one thing to allow him to marry his sister, given the circumstances, but it was something altogether different to allow him to pour some concoction down his daughter’s throat.

But Graham understood. He had children, too.

Killian nodded decisively and led him out into the night. As they strode through the rain, Graham could only pray that Killian’s faith in him wasn’t misplaced. 

~*~*~

In the end, no one could really tell whether it was Ruby’s prayers, the willow bark tea, or just dumb luck, but by morning, little Alice’s fever had finally broken and while she was still pale and fatigued, she was without a doubt on the mend.

And by noon, it was clear that Ruby and Graham were no longer needed, and were in fact, just getting in the way, so they loaded into the carriage and began the journey home where they planned to fall into bed to simply sleep.

The first ten minutes of the ride was spent in silence. Surprisingly, Ruby found herself too exhausted to sleep and she couldn’t summon the energy to talk, so just looked out the window at the passing countryside.

It had finally stopped raining about the time Alice’s fever had broken, which may have spoken to the Divine intervention Ruby had prayed for, but as she looked at her husband, who sat with his back against the side of the carriage, his legs stretched out across the bench on the other side with his eyes closed - though Ruby was quite sure he wasn’t asleep - she knew without a doubt that it was the willow bark tea.

She didn’t know how she knew. But she did. And when she thought about the circumstances surrounding the entire situation - Ruby’s uneasiness about Nurse Ratched, the fight with Graham, her flight to My Cottage, Graham coming after her - young Alice Jones was quite the luckiest little girl in all of England.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“For what?” Graham said, his eyes remaining firmly closed.

“For Alice.”

Graham opened his eyes then and met hers. He shrugged. “There’s no way to know. It might not have been willow bark.”

“I know,” she said, with certainty. “You were an answer to my prayers.”

Graham’s lips lifted in a tired smile. “You always do know.”

Ruby smiled back and thought to herself how wonderful it was. Just this. The easy comfort and familiarity of being with someone, that one just knew was right. Right where one belonged.

Ruby reached across and placed her hand on his. “It was so awful,” she said, surprised when she realized there were tears in her eyes. “I can’t imagine what Emma and Killian were going through.”

“Nor can I,” Graham whispered, squeezing her hand.

“If it had been one of our children…” Her voice trailed away as she realized. It was the first time she’d referred to Ava and Nicholas as theirs. 

Graham was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, he didn’t look at her but continued staring out the window. “The entire time with Alice,” he whispered, “all I could think of was how grateful I was that it wasn’t Nicholas or Ava.” He looked at her then, guilt written all over his face. “But it shouldn’t be any child.”

“There’s nothing wrong with such feelings,” she assured him. “They make you a good father. A very good father, I think.”

He looked at her oddly for a moment and then looked down at where their hands were still clasped. “No, I’m not,” he said gravely. “But I hope to be better.”

Ruby’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You were right,” he said, looking back up at her. “About Nurse Ratched. I didn’t want anything to be wrong, so I paid no attention, but you were right. She was beating them.”

“WHAT?!”

“With a book,” he continued, his voice perfectly level. “I walked in and she was beating Ava across the back with a book. She’d already finished with Nicholas.”

Tears of sorrow and anger filled Ruby’s eyes. “I never dreamed. I should have seen. I should have known.”

Graham scoffed. “If I didn’t see in the months she was living with us, how could you have seen when you’d only been there a fortnight?” he asked.

Ruby was silent for a few moments. “I assume you dismissed her,” she said.

Graham nodded. “I nearly threw her out the door myself when she wasn’t moving fast enough.”

Ruby snorted. “If you hadn’t, I would have,” she said.

“I told the children you’d help find a replacement,” he said.

“Of course!” she exclaimed.

“And I…” His voice trailed away for a moment and he looked out the window before he continued speaking. “I’m going to be a better father,” he whispered. “I’ve spent years pushing them away. Always afraid of becoming like my father.”

“Graham,” Ruby cajoled. “You couldn’t possibly be. You are so different from your father.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But I thought I could. I got a whip once. I went out to the stable, blindingly angry, and got a whip.” He dropped his head in his hands and Ruby’s heart broke for him. 

“But you didn’t use it,” she said with certainty.

“But I wanted to,” he confessed.

“But you didn’t,” she repeated.

“I was so angry,” he said again, as if he didn’t even hear her, too lost in his own memory. But then he looked at her and something in his eyes was shattered and Ruby wanted nothing more than to gather him close and heal all those jagged edges inside him. To make him see himself as she saw him - a flawed man, yes, but a good and honorable one, too, who’d never hurt his children the way he had been. “Do you understand what it means to be frightened by your own anger?”

Ruby shook her head.

“I’m not a small man, Ruby,” he said. “I could hurt someone.”

“So could I,” she reasoned with him. He sent her a dry look and she shrugged. “Well, maybe not you, but I’m certainly big enough to hurt a child.”

He snorted and turned back to the window. “You would never do that.”

“And neither would you.”

He was silent and understanding dawned on Ruby. “Graham,” she began. “You said you were angry, but… who were you angry with?”

He stared at her, slightly dazed. “Ruby,” he said. “They glued their governess’ hair to the sheets.”

“Oh, I know,” she assured him, “I’m quite certain I would have throttled them myself had I been around when it happened. But that wasn’t my question.” She stopped and waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she clarified. “Were you angry with them about the glue? Or were you angry with yourself because you couldn’t make them mind?”

He didn’t say anything, but that silence told her more than any words could.

“Graham, you are nothing like your father.”

“I know that now,” he said softly. “When I discovered what Nurse Ratched had done, you have no idea how much I wanted to rip her limb from limb.”

Ruby snorted. “I can imagine,” she said. “I would have wanted to do the same.”

Graham felt his lips twitch. There was something comforting and almost funny about their similar thoughts and feelings about the matter. It felt quite good. 

“She deserved nothing less,” Ruby continued. “But you didn’t touch her, did you?” 

“No,” he replied slowly in realization. “And if I could keep control of my temper with her, I could certainly keep control of it with my children.”

“Of course,” Ruby agreed. She patted his hand and then sat back, looking out the window.

She had such belief in him. It was an utterly foreign concept. She truly had faith in his inner goodness, in the quality of his soul, when he’d been wracked with guilt and worry for so many years.

“I’d thought you left me,” he blurted out.

She turned back to him, surprise written all over her face. “What? Why would you think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he shrugged, “Perhaps it was because you left and didn’t come back.”

Ruby rolled her eyes at him. “It’s perfectly clear now why I was delayed, and besides, I’d never leave you. You should know that.”

He raised a brow at her. “Should I?”

“Of course you should!” she exclaimed, her green eyes beginning to flash. “I made a vow on our wedding day, and I can assure you, I don’t take that lightly.” She was silent for just a moment before she continued, her tone and indignation ramping up with each sentence. “And the children! They’ve already lost one mother, through no fault of their own. Did you really think I’d make them go through all of that a second time? You know me better than that.” She turned to him with a supremely irritated expression on her face. “I cannot believe you thought that of me!”

Graham was beginning to think the same thing himself. How could he have thought that of Ruby? He’d only known her… Dear God. Had it really only been two weeks? In many ways, it felt like a lifetime. Because, he was quite convinced, he did know her. Inside and out. And he should have known better than to think she’d abandon their marriage.

It was the panic. That was all. Panic that she might really have been killed somewhere on the road. If that had truly been the case… He wasn’t prepared for the stab of agony in his heart at the thought.

When had that happened? When had she come to mean so much to him? He’d told himself, and her as well, over and over again that he married her to be a mother to his children. But when she’d mentioned the vow and that her commitment to the children was too strong, he’d felt a stab of jealousy.

Jealous. Of his own children. 

He wanted her to want him. Not because she’d made a vow, but because she couldn’t live without him. Perhaps because she loved him. 

Somewhere in the passion - in the intoxication of the pleasure of her touch, the sounds of her moans and gasps, in the force of his own pleasure when he exploded inside of her - she’d touched his heart. And changed it. 

Changed him.

He loved her.

He hadn’t been looking for love. Hadn’t even given a thought to it, but there it was. And it was the most beautiful and precious thing imaginable.

He was at the dawn of a new day. A new chapter in his life. It was both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. He did not want to fail. He couldn’t. Not when he’d just found everything he needed. Ruby. His children. Himself.

It had been years since he’d felt comfortable in his own skin. When he could trust his own instincts. When he could look at himself in the mirror and not avoid his own gaze.

They were pulling up at Romney Hall. A footman appeared to help Ruby down. She turned to him and smiled gently.

“I’m exhausted, and you look the same,” she observed. “Shall we go up and take a nap?”

Graham looked up to the third floor nursery for a moment before turning back to his bride. 

“You go on ahead,” he said. “I’ll be along in a bit. Right now, I think I want to go hug my children.”

Ruby smiled and turned to enter the house.

When she woke, many hours later, she was surprised to see that Graham’s side of the bed was undisturbed. He’d been just as exhausted as she was, but perhaps instead of sleep, he just needed time to himself to think after the difficulties of the last few days.

Just because she didn’t prefer solitude, didn’t mean that everyone agreed with her. It didn’t mean that Graham agreed with her. 

They were two very different people, and if she was going to live with him as his wife, she was going to have to make some concessions to his personality and temperament, just as he was doing the same for hers.

She didn’t see him the rest of the day. Not when she took tea in the afternoon, not when she tucked the twins into bed, not when she ate her lonely supper. After her obligatory two bites of pudding, she got up, not wishing to prolong her meal any longer, fully intending to retire to her bed. But as soon as she left the dining room, she knew she wasn’t ready to sleep yet. 

She walked, somewhat aimlessly, through the house until her feet carried her to the portrait gallery. She hadn’t been inside it since that first night after she’d arrived at Romney Hall. She opened the door and gasped in surprise to see Graham sitting in the chair, just staring up at the portrait of Jacinda with the children.

He gave no indication that he’d heard her. Just continued staring, the look on his face bleak and so full of sorrow that it nearly broke Ruby’s heart.

Had he lied to her when he said he’d never loved Jacinda? Never felt passion for her? No. He hadn’t lied. She knew it in her marrow. 

But what did it really matter? Jacinda was dead. She was in no way in competition for Graham’s affections. And it wasn’t as if Graham loved Ruby anyway. And she certainly didn’t lo…

But in one of those flashes of insight that might as well knock the breath out of one’s lungs, Ruby realized, she did. 

She thought back on the last two weeks - had it really only been two weeks? - wondering when it might have happened. Wondering how it happened. But this feeling she had for him, the affection and respect, had grown into something deeper. And oh, how she desperately wanted Graham to feel the same way.

He may need her - of that she was quite sure, both in the physical aspect of their marriage, but also in the caring for the household and the children - but she wanted him to love her the way she loved him.

She loved the way he smiled, the boyish grin that spoke of secrets and mischief, and as if he couldn’t quite believe in his own happiness. She loved the way he looked at her, as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She loved the way he actually listened to what she had to say and how he wouldn’t let her cow him. She even loved the way he told her she talked too much. Because he always said it with a smile on his face. And she loved the way he still listened to her after telling her she talked too much. 

She loved the way he loved his children. She loved his honor, his honesty, and his sly sense of humor. And she loved the way she fit into his life and the way he fit into hers.

It was comfortable. And it was right.

This was where she belonged.

She loved him. She needed him. Not a dead woman.

As she watched him looking at the portrait, his words from yesterday finally sank in. He’d said he hadn’t laid with a woman in eight years. 

Eight years.

Jacinda had only been gone fifteen months. If Graham had gone without a woman for eight years… Ruby did some mental math. They hadn’t shared any physical intimacy since the twins had been conceived. No, that wasn’t right. It would have been shortly after the twins were born. Just a little bit. 

It was possible that Graham was mistaken about the dates, but somehow, Ruby didn’t think so. She thought Graham knew exactly when the last time was, and now that she’d pinpointed it as well, she realized it must have been a terrible experience indeed. 

But he hadn’t betrayed her. Hadn’t betrayed her or his marriage vows. He’d remained faithful to a woman who’d banned him from her bed. Ruby wasn’t really surprised, given his honesty and integrity, but she wouldn’t have thought less of him for seeking physical comfort elsewhere.

But the fact that he hadn’t… It made her love him all the more.

Ruby stepped forward and cleared her throat. She was surprised when he quickly turned his attention upon her. She’d believed him so lost in thought that he wouldn’t realize he was no longer alone. He held out his hand to her and she stepped toward him and took it, turning with him to face Jacinda’s portrait.

“Did you love her?” she asked quietly.

“No.” And even though she’d asked the question before, and received the same answer, the relief she felt at the simple affirmation was profound.

“Do you miss her?”

“No.” He was silent for a few moments, just continued to stare at her portrait. “She was sad. Always so sad.” Another pause. “It was worse after the twins were born. The midwife said it was normal for women to cry after childbirth, but not to worry. It would disappear in a few weeks.”

“But it didn’t,” Ruby murmured. 

“It was like she sank even further into herself,” he said quietly. “Almost like she disappeared.” His throat worked and his eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to formulate the words he wanted - no, needed - to say. “She rarely left her bed. She never smiled. And she cried. A great deal.” He finally turned to Ruby and looked her square in the eyes. “I tried everything to make her happy. Everything in my power. Everything I knew. But it wasn’t enough.” His eyes filled with tears and Ruby cupped his jaw with her other hand. “It wasn’t enough,” he whispered.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ruby said. She may not have known Jacinda as an adult, but she knew Graham and she knew her words were true.

“Eventually I just gave up,” he admitted, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “I was so sick and tired of beating my head against a wall. All I could do was try to keep the children away from her when she was really bad. They loved her so much.”

“I know,” she assured him.

“She was their mother. And she didn’t… she couldn’t…”

“But you were there,” Ruby said fervently. 

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “And a fat lot of good it did them. How terrible is it to have one bad parent? And my children were born with two…”

“You are not a bad father,” Ruby said, the vehemence in her words surprising even her.

“It hurt so much,” he whispered.

“What did?” 

“When she died,” he explained. “To try so damned hard for so many years and never succeed. To never be able to break through to her.” He turned and looked at her again. “I just needed someone who was happy. Who would be there for the children. Someone who wouldn’t…” He cut himself off and turned away.

“Someone who wouldn’t what?” she asked, sensing that his answer was very important, indeed.

“She didn’t fall in the lake by accident,” Graham whispered. Ruby gasped. He’d told her Jacinda had died in the lake, but she assumed it was an accident. She never thought that her cousin might take her own life. “She walked straight into the water. And I didn’t reach her in time.”

“Oh, Graham,” Ruby breathed. “I’m so sorry.” She was truly, even if Jacinda’s death had made her own happiness possible.

“You don’t understand,” Graham snapped. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t know what it’s like to feel trapped. Hopeless. Stuck. To try so hard and never, ever, break through. I tried. Every single day, I tried. I tried for me. I tried for her. I especially tried for Nicholas and Ava. Everything I knew. Everything everyone told me to do. Nothing worked. I’d try, and she’d cry. I’d try again and she’d do nothing but dig herself deeper into her damned bed and pull the covers over her head. She lived in complete darkness with her curtains drawn and then on the first sunny day in weeks,” he turned to her, eyes blazing, “she goes and kills herself.” He laughed, a short bitter thing. “After all of that, she had to ruin sunny days for me too.” He rose from the chair and looked at the portrait again. “I tried so hard,” his voice, filled with resignation and regret, trailed away for a moment. “And still, every day, I wished I was married to someone else. Anyone else.”

He turned to look at her again, and the tears were gone, replaced with a vehement passion that took Ruby’s breath away. 

“Yesterday you said we had a problem,” he said, taking her hand.

“No, that’s not what I meant…” she tried to interrupt, but he kept speaking as if he didn’t hear her.

“You said we have a problem,” he repeated. “But until you’ve lived through what I’ve lived through - until you’ve been trapped in a hopeless marriage, with a hopeless spouse, until you’ve gone to bed for years wanting nothing more than the touch of another human being…” He looked down at their joined hands and gently rubbed Ruby’s knuckles with his thumb. “Do not tell me that we have a problem. Because to me,” he choked on his words but kept on going, “to me, what we have, this - us, - is heaven.”

“Oh, Graham,” she breathed and threw herself into his arms, her own tears soaking his shirt.

“I don’t want to fail again,” he choked out, burying his face in her neck. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“No, you won’t,” she assured him. “We won’t.”

“You have to be happy,” he said. “Please tell me…”

“I am. I promise,” she vowed.

He pulled back, cupping her chin with his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. Looking for the truth of her words.

“I am happy, Graham,” she repeated, covering his hands with her own. “More than I ever thought possible. And I am proud to be your wife.”

Graham’s lower lip began to tremble and the tears reappeared in his eyes again before they began streaming down his face.

“I love you, Ruby,” he breathed. “And I don’t even care that you don’t feel the same…”

“Oh, Graham,” she cried, cutting him off, and wiping his tears away, even as her own continued to fall. “I love you, too.”

Graham crushed Ruby to him, his lips meeting hers in a passionate dance of love felt and reciprocated. He picked her up, bridal style, his lips never leaving hers and carried her through the halls to their bedchamber.

He lowered her to the bed and pulled back, pulling off his clothes in haste as Ruby did the same.

“I need you, Ruby,” he said, laying down beside her. “I need you like I need to breathe. Like I need food, water.”

“Yes,” Ruby moaned. “I need you, too.” All she could do was reach for him and give herself to him with all that she was. She couldn’t speak, could barely breathe as he touched her, kissed her, sending her higher and higher until her tears couldn’t be held back any longer.

“Don’t cry,” he soothed, brushing one away.

“I can’t help it,” she cried, her voice shaking. “I just love you so much. I didn’t think… I’d hoped… but…”

“I know,” he assured her. “I never thought it would happen to me. I think I’ve waited my entire life for you.”

“I know I’ve waited my entire life for you,” she said cheekily. She rolled on her back, drawing her with him until he was nestled between her legs. “Don’t go slowly,” she urged.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said as he surged into her, filling her completely.

They moved together, but it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire. And a tempest. And total reckless abandon. Both of them reaching for that peak that seemed just out of reach, until they reached it together in a cascade of ecstasy that made Ruby arch, lifting them both from the bed with the power of her completion and Graham roar her name as he emptied himself into her.

Ruby collapsed back to the mattress, Graham’s weight pinning her down. Not that she minded in the least. She loved these moments, when they were both too spent to move. She loved the weight of him, the smell and taste of the sweat on his skin after their lovemaking. 

She loved him. 

It was that simple. She loved him and he loved her. And it was all she needed.

~*~*~

The next week would forever be remembered by Ruby as the most magical of her life. Nothing special happened - no birthdays, no unexpected guests, no extravagant gifts. 

But on the inside, everything changed.

The well of happiness was overflowing and seemingly without end. And she could sense the same thing inside of Graham as well. 

She woke one morning, pleasantly sore in all the right places, to see Graham, fully dressed, sitting at the foot of the bed simply watching her.

“Good morning,” she said, sitting up and tucking the sheet around her naked breasts. “What are you doing there?”

“Watching you,” he said, an indulgent smile on his face.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and she felt her cheeks heat. “That can’t possibly be very interesting.”

“On the contrary,” he replied, “I can’t think of anything that would hold my attention for so long.”

Her blush intensified and she wondered if perhaps she’d be able to convince him to join her in the bed again. But then she remembered he was already dressed and had probably done so for a reason.

“I brought you a muffin,” he said, holding it out to her. She thanked him and began eating when he spoke again. “I thought we might go on an outing today.”

“Really?” she asked in surprise. “You and me?”

“Actually, I thought maybe the four of us.”

Ruby froze, the muffin halfway to her mouth. To her knowledge, this was the first time Graham was reaching out to his children, rather than setting them aside and hoping someone else would see to them.

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” she breathed. 

“Good,” he said, rising to his feet. “I’ll leave you to your morning routine and inform that poor housemaid that you bullied into being their nurse that we’ll be taking them for the day.”

“I didn’t bully her… exactly,” Ruby protested feebly. Mary hadn’t wanted to take the position of nursemaid, even on a temporary basis, none of the servants had. Ruby couldn’t really blame them after the debacle with their former governess, but for that reason, Ruby had extracted a promise from the twins that they would treat Mary with the respect due to the Queen, and so far they’d held up their side of the bargain. 

Ruby glanced up and saw Graham just standing in the doorway, not moving.

“Graham?” she asked. “What is it?”

He turned to her, his eyes a bit bewildered. “I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing going on in the village today, no fairs or events, I mean. What should we do?”

Ruby smiled gently at him. “Anything at all, Graham. All they want is you.”

Two hours later, Graham and Nicholas were standing outside the Larkin’s Fine Tailor and Dressmaker in the village of Tetbury, waiting somewhat impatiently while Ruby and Ava finalized their purchases inside.

“Did we have to go shopping?” Nicholas whined.

Graham chuckled. “It was what your mother wanted to do.”

“Next time, the men get to choose,” he grumbled. “If I’d known having a mother meant this…”

“We men must make sacrifices for the women we love,” his father informed him, patting him on the shoulder. He looked inside the shop window and saw that the ladies didn’t appear to be anywhere near finished. “But as to our next outing,” he whispered conspiratorially to his son, “I agree whole-heartedly.”

Just then, Ruby poked her head out. “Nicholas, would you like to come in?”

“No!” he said vehemently, shaking his head for emphasis.

“Allow me to rephrase,” Ruby replied, not missing a beat. “Nicholas, I would like you to come in please.”

Nicholas turned pleading eyes upon his father, making Graham chuckle. “I’m afraid you must do as she says.”

Nicholas grumbled under his breath as he climbed the steps, but just before he entered the door, he turned back to his father. “Aren’t you coming?”

Hell no, Graham almost said, but he bit his tongue just in time. “No,” he said instead, “I need to stay out here and watch the carriage.”

Nicholas’ eyes narrowed. “Why does the carriage need watching?”

“Yes, you need to come in as well, Graham,” Ruby said sweetly. Graham groaned. “You need new shirts.”

“Can’t the tailor just come out to the house?”

“Don’t you want to pick the fabric?” she asked.

“I trust you implicitly,” he said. Ruby frowned at him, and Graham sighed. “Very well, I’ll come in.”

“Thank you,” she said, leading them both inside. 

Graham found himself on the ladies side surrounded by bolts and yards of frilly and lacey, sparkly and shiny. He felt about as comfortable there as he did in formal wear.

Ruby kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear. “When Ava comes out, make a fuss.”

“I’m not very good at that sort of thing,” he said quietly.

She smiled up at him. “Learn,” she said just as quietly, then turned her attention to Nicholas. “And now for you, Master Humbert. Mrs. Larkin…”

“I want Mr. Larkin, like Father,” Nicholas protested. 

Ruby looked at him, surprised. “You want Mr. Larkin? The tailor?” she asked. Nicholas nodded. Ruby was silent for a moment, pondering his request and Graham could see Nicholas start to squirm with impatience and anxiety that she might deny him. “Very well then, off you go.”

Nicholas wasted no time at all and all but ran into the other side of the shop. Graham leaned over to his wife.

“You are good,” he praised, whispering in her ear.

A small smile pricked the corners of her lips. “Yes, I am,” she agreed.

Not a moment later, a blood curdling howl reached them and Nicholas ran back in. Straight to Ruby, which left Graham feeling a bit bereft. He wanted his children to run to him.

“He stuck me with a pin!” 

“Were you squirming?” Ruby asked, not bothered in the least.

“No!”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Maybe just a tiny bit,” he said, sheepishly.

“Right then. Don’t move next time,” Ruby said briskly. “I can assure you Mr. Larkin is very good at his job and if you don’t move, you won’t get stuck with a pin. It’s as simple as that.”

Nicholas looked up at his father with pleading eyes, and as nice as it was to be seen as an ally, he couldn’t contradict Ruby in front of his son like that. But then Nicholas surprised him. He walked back toward the other side without complaint and then turned back toward them for a moment.

“Father, will you come with me? Please?”

Graham opened his mouth to reply, but then had to stop, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He couldn’t speak. He was, quite simply, overcome. 

It wasn’t just the moment - the fact that his son wanted him to accompany him in this male right of passage - but it was the absolute confidence and assurance that if he followed his son to the other side, he’d know the exact right thing to say and do when they got there. He wasn’t his own father. He could never be. And with Ruby by his side, he knew he could do anything. Even manage the twins.

Graham laid his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’d be proud to go with you, son.” He cleared his throat of the hoarseness that had crept in, then bent down to his son’s ear. “The last thing we need is women on the men’s side.” Nicholas nodded in agreement. 

Graham rose back up, but before he could take a step, he heard Ruby clearing her throat behind him. He turned toward her, but his gaze came to a stop and his eyes widened as he saw his little girl all dressed up in a lovely lavender frock, showing just a hint of the woman she’d one day become.

For the second time in as many minutes, Graham’s eyes filled with tears. This is what he’d been missing. In his fear, in his self-doubt, he’d been missing this. His children, growing up without him.

Graham patted Nicholas’ shoulder, letting him know he’d be right back, and walked to Ava’s side. Without a word, he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. 

“You, Miss Ava Humbert,” he said, his heart in his words, in his smile, in his eyes, “are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.”

Ava gasped in surprise and blushed under his praise. “But what about Mother?” she asked.

Graham knelt by her side and looked over at his bride, whose own eyes were filled with tears. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, quietly. “We’ll say that your mother is the most beautiful woman in the world, and you are the most beautiful girl. And someday, when you’re all grown up, you can believe that your mother is the most beautiful woman, and I’ll still say that you are.”

And later that night, when he kissed the children on their foreheads and tucked them into their beds, Ava whispered.

“Father?”

“Yes, Ava?”

“This was the best day ever.”

“Ever,” agreed Nicholas.

Graham smiled down at them. “For me as well.”

~*~*~

It started with a note.

Later that night, as Ruby finished her supper and her plate was cleared away, she realized there was a small folded note underneath. Graham had excused himself a few minutes earlier, claiming that he needed to locate a book of poetry they’d been discussing during the meal. So once she was alone, she unfolded the note and read the words contained within.

I have never been good with words.

And then, at the bottom of the paper,

Proceed to your office.

Puzzled, but intrigued, she rose and made her way to her office. There, she found another note in the center of her desk.

But it all started with a letter, did it not?

Then followed instructions to take herself to the sitting room, which she followed, being very conscious to keep a sedate pace instead of breaking into a thoroughly inelegant run. The next note was found on the center of the sofa.

And so if it started with words, it ought to continue with them, too.

This time she was directed to the front hall.

But there are no words to thank you for all you have given me, so I will use the only ones at my disposal, and I will tell you the only way I know how.

This time, she was to proceed to her bedchamber.

Ruby headed up the stairs, her heart thumping in excitement and anticipation. This was her final destination, she was sure. Graham would be waiting for her, to take her hand and lead her into their future.

It had all started with a note. A short, but heartfelt note of condolence, that had led her here. To a love so full and all-encompassing, Ruby had trouble containing it. She reached the upstairs hall and stepped forward toward her room, where the door was just slightly ajar.

She pushed it open with shaking hands and gasped.

For covering the bed were flowers. Hundreds and hundreds of blooms of every variety and color, some clearly out of season, from Graham’s special collection. And written in blossoms of red, against the backdrop of white and pink petals…

I Love You

“Words aren’t enough,” Graham said softly, stepping out of the shadows.

She turned to him, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Speechless?” he asked, with a smirk. “You? I must be better at this than I thought.”

“I love you,” she whispered, choking on the words. “I love you so much.”

His arms came around her, and as she rested her head on his chest, his heart beating under her cheek, he rested his chin on the top of her head.

“Tonight the twins said that today was the best day ever,” he said softly. “And I realized they were right.”

Ruby nodded in agreement.

“But then I realized they were wrong.”

Ruby pulled back, a question in her eyes.

“I couldn’t choose a day,” he said, looking down into her eyes. “Any day with you, Ruby. Any week, any month, any hour.” He tilted her chin up and brushed her lips with his gently, but with all the love in his soul. “Any moment,” he whispered. “As long as I’m with you.”

The End

~*~*~

Thank you all for coming along on this journey with me!!! I so hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought!!! Happy birthday, Marta!! Love you!!!

[woodlaflababab]

Saw your request for Zukkang prompts and idk for some reason what's popping into my head is "pillow case". So... do with that what you will?

Okay so, I ended up more going with bed than pillowcase, that's just what the word pillowcase inspired in my head, and it turned into aangst. So, oops. But also, I really liked writing this so, good prompt, 10/10

-<>-

“So,” Aang started with a stretch, “where am I sleeping tonight?” 

Zuko, having been entirely absorbed in reading a new potential bill despite Aang's best efforts, perked up. “Oh, yes, follow me. I have something to show you.”

As Zuko stood, Aang followed him, hoping whatever it was would be quick. As happy as he was to arrive in the Fire Nation again, he was tired and a little sick of being shown around. “Is it a bed?” He joked.

“Yes.” Zuko answered bluntly, leading Aang down familiar halls.

“Oh.” Was all Aang could really think to say, remaining silent for the rest of the walk. He spent the time trying to figure out why Zuko was treating this differently than usual. His best guess was Zuko had recently replaced some of the palace beds and wanted to show off.

When Zuko stopped in front of a door, Aang immediately noticed the air symbol carved into it before Zuko opened it to show Aang the inside.

As Aang walked in, he looked around, finding the room pretty simple. It was definitely different from the usual palace guest rooms, with significantly less fire nation decor, or decor at all, and the covers of the bed were yellow and orange instead of the usual red. 

Aang made an interested sound. “Very Air Nomad, I like it. It's a great idea.”

“What?” Zuko said from behind him, sounding genuinely confused.

Aang turned to him. “You're redesigning the guest rooms to be more friendly to foreign visitors, right? Have you done any Water Tribe or Earth Kingdom ones yet?”

Zuko blinked at him a few times, still seeming confused. “Well, no. I hadn't really thought of that. Do you think I should?”

Aang laughed, the sound a bit questioning. “What do you mean? Are you going to make all the guest rooms like this? There's only one Air Nomad in the world, Zuko.”

Zuko just stared at Aang like he was trying to figure out if Aang was kidding.

Aang stared awkwardly back, unsure where the joke was supposed to be.

Eventually, Zuko snapped out of it, shaking his head, “No. Aang. This isn't a guest room. It's your room.”

The pieces suddenly clicked and Aang let out a soft, “Oohhhh.” Apon the realization, he looked back at the bed. For a few moments, his head just felt quiet, a gaping place where he felt a reaction should be, before it belatedly hit him and he started tearing up before he could really process the rush of emotions.

“Agni.” He heard Zuko curse, sounding vaguely panicked. “Is something wrong with it? I tried to find information on what Air Temple rooms were like but there wasn't much. I thought maybe just the colors- That was a bad assumption. I'm sorry. What is it supposed to-”

“Zuko.” Aang cut him off, voice scratchy. “Shut up.” Aang started wiping away the wetness but more kept gathering every time he tried, the yellow bed swimming in his mind even when he closed his eyes. Every time he tried to douse the burning in his chest on instinct, it just came back and the building frustration with himself really wasn't helping.

After another few moments, Zuko spoke up again, unsure. “Aang? I don't know what to do here. Please just tell me how to fix it.”

Aang shook his head. “I'm not upset.” He tried to explain.

In the ensuing silence, he could practically hear Zuko's doubt. “Right. Okay.” The next time Aang opened his eyes he could see Zuko had come around to the other side of the bed. “So then, what are you?”

Aang covered his eyes. “I don't know.”

“Okay, well, what,” Zuko hesitated, “are you thinking?” 

Hearing Zuko use the voice he did when he was trying to emulate someone else allowed some amusement to break through the mess in Aang's head and he managed to piece a little bit together. “I haven't had my own bed since before the ice.” His voice came out weak. With the words, the rest of it fell together in his head.

It was true. He'd had a room at the air temple, a place he could return to when he came back from his travels. It was reliable, and as much as he had enjoyed traveling and as happy as he was to sleep on Appa's tail, coming back to the familiarity of the temple and the comfort of his own bed felt like relief.

Then the ice happened, and he woke up to destroyed temples and his people gone, and he spent the better part of a year on the run, and even after that, he was still expected to be The Avatar, to help rebuild the world. Staying in any one place for too long carried the risk of people worrying he was picking favorites, or that he'd miss some disaster going on somewhere else. 

Everywhere he went he was hosted by leaders and delegates or his friends but there was never justification for his own space. Not when he'd only use it for a few weeks at most. As the thoughts kept tumbling through his head he realized, even though the war was over, he felt like he was still on the run, displaced with danger constantly on his heels. The feeling had become so intimately familiar, it felt like normalcy.

Something about seeing the yellow bed, a place made for him to come back to again, made it all come crashing down. It was like he could finally acknowledge that it was over, that things could be safe again, that settling down wouldn't mean everything around him would burn.

For so long, sleeping in a bed was associated with duty. People housed him because they needed him. Beds came with obligations, like an exchange. His services for a place to sleep. They weren't places for him to just be or rest. Technically, there shouldn't have been anything different about this one. He was still there because the fire nation needed him. Zuko calling the room his shouldn't have changed anything. It was such a small thing, he couldn't figure out why it felt like his chest had suddenly been carved open.

As the thoughts tumbled through his head, he'd lost track of Zuko, and so startled when he felt arms wrap around him. Even though he was pretty sure that was supposed to make him feel better, it just seemed to make it worse and he couldn't get his eyes to stop leaking. Yet there was still a comfort to it. The warmth of Zuko allowing the thoughts to die down like dying waves, leaving just the spill of emotion and pain. He lost track of time standing there, face ending up tucked against Zuko as the silent crying continued, but thankfully, eventually, it slowed, like he'd run out of emotion and tears and in its place he was just empty and exhausted.

He looked over at the bed and wanted nothing more than to just lay down and sleep. Zuko must have picked up on something because he pulled back and guided Aang toward it, taking a moment to pull down the covers.

“Go to sleep, Aang.” He coaxed quietly. “I'll see you in the morning.”

Already feeling half asleep, Aang collapsed into the bed, sinking into it like melting. The last thing he registered was the covers coming up before he finally laid to rest.

[k0fii]

『The moment the world was finished, the author had to descend from the position of creator.』

They say that before you die, you live through the events of your entire life for 7 minutes.

Naturally, for writers, this meant the tear-jerker flashback scenes written to make a character's death hurt for the readers.

Han Sooyoung belatedly wondered if her death would be recorded as such. Well, she had written this very world but it had long left her hands by now.

The void rushed to take what was left of her, which wasn't much at all. She thought that it felt familiar. She couldn't seem to remember why though.

--

A small bit of her consciousness managed to survive.

She didn't know why, and could barely feel anything than the coldness of the void surrounding her.

The ghost of a body remained after her physical body crumbled away - it was something, but it wasn't anything, defined more by the fact that it wasn't the void, like white ink on a black page or stars in the dark night.

She curled into herself with barely any strength, eyes closing and her hand floating uselessly around her, as if trying to reach something.

Before she knew what she was reaching out for, she felt a grasp on her hand.

It was warm, unlike the desolate void around her. For some reason, she was afraid to open her eyes. Maybe it was because she recognized that hand holding hers, or that warmth, or maybe it was because she's scared that opening her eyes would reveal it all to be a dream.

"Sooyoung-ah."

She fought back tears and found it useless in the end. Silently, her grip tightened, unwilling to let go.

If this was her final moment, if this was a last-minute hallucination or dream conjured up by her mind, she decided that she wouldn't let this bastard leave before her again.

"You dumbass..!"

Her voice came out shaky. Anger, hurt, and relief all spilling out in multitudes. She kept her eyes tightly shut.

"I know. I'm sorry."

If she could punch him, she would - there were too many questions, too much grief between the two of them. God knows how many times she wanted to beat some sense into him.

"Why couldn't you just come back?"

"..."

"Do you know all we did just to get you back?!"

"..."

"We all tried to move on with our lives but no matter what I did, I couldn't."

"..."

"I couldn't even write anymore. I wanted to throw up at the sight of the subway."

"..."

"I hate you so damn much, do you know that?"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't just say that!"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I.."

What did she want him to say? What words could fix all the hurt he's caused? What words could repay her for all she did to get him back?

Her throat felt strangled now.

"What..what did you think of the story I wrote?"

"It was good."

Han Sooyoung didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She felt her heart bursting with joy at such half-baked praise.

"..That's it? That's 500 chapters of work!"

Banter that would've made the two of them laugh previously now felt like a parting gift. A last chat, a few jokes and the warmth of laughter before everything fades to nothing.

"It was perfect."

"Of course it is! The genius writer wrote it, so obviously."

Her voice was still shaky, but there was a smile to it now.

"You did good until now. Thank you, Sooyoung-ah."

"Ha..ha.."

Shaky laughter turned into teary sobs. Han Sooyoung didn't bother to wipe the tears sliding down her face.

She was content here, in her final moments, knowing that this story reached the person it was written for.

[queerofthedagger]

to feel you like a knife

[Bagginshield | 23k | Teen+]

Tags: BotFA AU - Everyone Lives | Temporary Amnesia | Hurt Bilbo | Hurt/Comfort | Thorin-typical Self-flagellation, you know how it goes | Reconciliation | Mutual Pining | Getting Together | Angst with a Happy Ending

Written for @acorns-and-oakleaves 'Year of Bagginshield' March Prompt: Second Chances (very belatedly I'm sorry lmao <3)

Summary:

No words are spoken, but Thorin draws a rattling breath and steels himself. After everything he has done to Bilbo, he at least owes him more than this. “What happened?” Bilbo says, before Thorin gets there. “Did we make it to the mountain, did we find the door? The last thing I remember is Lake Town—I’m assuming the attempt to steal a bunch of weapons did not go well, then?” The words take a moment to sink in. When they do, Thorin finally understands what people mean when they say that the floor dropped out from right beneath their feet. --- Up on Ravenhill, Bilbo wakes a little earlier. It allows him to save Thorin's life, and almost—almost—costs him his own; which, as far as Bilbo is concerned, is a worthy exchange, no matter Thorin's own thoughts on the matter. If only the aftermath, and all that still stands between them, would be so clean-cut and easy to resolve.

[mercurygray]

The Only One I've Got

This one goes out to the anonymous Fred Friend.

It looked like it was going to be sunny today.

After the long slow slog through October and November's sleets and snows, sunshine would be welcome, even if it was only for a few thin December hours. The weather was pressing in on them just as much as the missions were, and so far 1943 had not had much to recommend it except that it would soon be ending.

(Their director had asked quietly at Thanksgiving if a reassignment would be welcomed, but she didn't really want to go. If she left she'd lose so many good memories.)

"I left the mail on the table," Tatty said, coming in from the front where they usually parked the jeep. "I didn't see what's there."

"Thanks, Tat!" Fred said, brushing the last of the toast crumbs from her fingers and going to look at the pile. Helen, Helen, Mary, Tatty, Helen - and a small square of what looked like cardstock, stamped several times in purple and red with a very serious German word in the upper left corner, and her name, Freda Torvaldsen, written in careful block script in the address.

She must have made a noise, because Helen was suddenly there, and maybe Tatty, too, and she couldn't remember sitting down in the chair, and the rest of the mail had fallen on the floor. Her vision was swimming a little.

She wanted it to be from him. Maybe it wasn't.

"Fred, honey, you need me to read it to you?"

She shook her head, her hands shaking as she tried to turn it over to open it and nearly ripped the thing in two. Tatty took it from her and eased the seal open before she handed it back.

It was dated three months ago - October.

Dear Fred,

I'm hopeful that maybe you've tried to get news about me before now. If not, my new stationery should inform you - I am alive, and a guest of the Germans in a Prisoner of War camp. I'm sorry I haven't written before now. Now that we are settled we are permitted to send three pieces of mail a month and I needed to tell my folks first.

It feels very strange to write your name at the top of a letter. I've never had to write to you before. I'm hopeful that maybe we can keep this up, if you still feel the same way you did several months ago. Quarters here are close and I couldn't keep who I was writing to private. I need to let you know there have been some complaints. Lots of guys from the old outfit are here with me, and many names that you would know. (I'm not listing them, as I think the censor will black them out.) Hopefully you don't hear from them, too.

I just realized I'm using the word hopeful a lot, but it's the only one I've got. Hopefully Yours, John

PS - There are a few guys here who are not getting mail. Can you share my address with Ma Brennan and see if she could write something? It would be nice to share a little of the news from home and let them know that they aren't forgotten.

She read it through three times, vision increasingly blurry, realizing, belatedly, that the pencil was getting on her fingers. Hopefully yours. She held it to her nose and thought she could smell pipe smoke, and it was the best gift she'd ever gotten.

Of course I'm yours. You're the only one I've got.

-

A big thank you to a friend who is asking to remain anonymous for sharing images of what POW mail looked like. Some of it was on pre-printed postcards and some was on a message blank, which is what I'm describing here. The big German word Fred can't read is Kriegsgefangenpost, prisoner of war mail. I also just found a website online that has a ton of pictures of what this looked like.

[k-s-morgan]

Hi! I'm beginning this apologizing, english is not my first language so, sorry for any mistake :D

I had a question about ATLWETD, mostly about Harry's scars.In a previous ask you said he had Umbrige's scar from the detention session. But what about his other scars?

I like to think that wound made by dark magic leave permanent scars, but i can't remember if it's canon. Does he have any other scar in this fic? the one on his forearm from resurrecting Voldemort? The other from the basilisk's bite? The one from fighing the dragon in the fourth book (don't know if a dragon can even count as dark magic??)? Or others that I can't remember (i didn't even realize before this ask how many he had).

If he has them did Tom also notice these? Did Alphard?

Wishing you and your cared one the best!! Hate how Russia waited the Christmas/New Years's holidays so less people would notice the bombings... and how people actually fell for it. Only now (where i live) people are talking about it, so better late than never. Sending you all my prayers, hoping you're ok!!

Hi! Your English is absolutely fine - and thank you for your ask, your wishes and for your support! It means a lot to me <3 And it's a relief to know that Russian atrocities are still discussed, even if belatedly.

In this story, Harry has a scar from Umbridge and from Voldemort's resurrection; he also has some scars from his time at the Ministry. At the moment, neither Tom nor Alphard noticed them because most of these scars are under the clothes and Harry is a private person. Tom has been too focused on Harry's forehead scar to pay attention to anything else, such as his hands.

This will change in the coming summer, when Tom and Harry will spend a lot of time in a very close proximity to one another. Some hand-holding will also be likely involved, considering what harsh circumstances they will be facing, so Tom will get a good chance to observe Harry's hands)

Now, this is not directly related to your ask, but regarding the summer that awaits Tom and Harry: a lot of people think that London was only bombed during the Blitz, but this is absolutely not true. Quoting from The Blitz Companion by Mark Clapson:

Yet during the summer of 1944 worse was to come, and it would manifest itself in a frightening new weapon. For some months rumours had been circulating in Britain about a flying bomb that had no pilot and which could be guided almost mysteriously through the air at great speed to attack the capital city. This was the V1, the ‘V’ standing for vengeance … The V1s killed over 5,000 people and injured 15,000.

The timeline for these attacks is here. So Tom Riddle in canon survived some very bad and terrifying days, and this time, Harry will be there to share them with him. This will be a bonding experience truly like none other.

[idabbleincrazy]

Not Whole Without (2/2)

Fandom: Smallville/Dark Knight Trilogy

Rating: E

Pairing: Clark Kent/Lex Luthor/Bruce Wayne

Word Count: 6590

Warnings: pwp, shameless smut, mini-orgy, oral fingering, double oral penetration, double blowjobs, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, deep throating, come swallowing, come eating, come sharing, rimming, anal fingering, anal, spit-roasting, slutty Clark, subby Bruce, top Clark, top Lex, bottom Bruce, bottom Lex, cum-drunk Bruce,

Summary: Trust Lex to know just what they all need.

A/N: wow, I can't believe my first Clex+Bruce fic so very smutty. 😅 Also, I failed to mention it last time, but I picture this Bruce as Christian Bale's Batman from The Dark Knight trilogy. I probably will most times that I write for him.

Squares Filled: "Are we gonna do this, or has this all been a complete waste of time?", Oral fingering or Object Insertion, Sex with a couple/sex with friends/sex with strangers/sex with an ex, Strip tease or DP in one hole, "I've gotten rusty in my abstinence.", Accidental Confession or First Kiss ( @julybreakbingo ) Unsure Kiss, Forming a Triad, Spit-roasting, Non-binary/Polyamorus/Pansexual ( @fandom-free-bingo Pride Edition)

Clark let Lex lead him into their bedroom, the sound of Bruce's heartbeat slowly following behind. 

"Lex, are you sure about this?"

Stopping the both of them beside the bed, Lex turned around to face Clark full-on. There was no mistaking how turned on the older man was, his eyes dark and stormy, slacks tented painfully. But, there was still tenderness radiating from his gaze, a gentle understanding at the way Clark was reeling from this turn of events. 

"Clark, if you, at any time, don't want this, all you have to do is say so." Lex's gaze flicked over his shoulder, and Clark could hear Bruce's heartbeat looming a few feet behind him, the door closing with an almost silent snick. "He'll leave the moment you ask him to. Or the moment I do."

Clark wanted Bruce to take that last step between them, to reach out and touch him; his arm, the back of his neck. But he knew he wouldn't. Bruce always put too much stock in boundary lines. So, Clark turned instead, Lex's hand still in his, his ballast in this uncharted water. Bruce stood there, barely a foot away, his face hardly different from when he gazed out over his city from beneath his cowl. Except for his eyes. 

Those ocean-blue irises and blown pupils spoke of the emotion the man fought to hide; hunger, a need so deep, Clark didn't know how the human didn't buckle under its power. He wanted him, them?, too. More than just the aching desire that bulged between his legs. He wanted to be with them. 

"Bruce?" 

"I'm sorry, Clark." Bruce's voice, while not quite the rumbling timbre of Batman, was still husky as he finally spoke. "I never should have let myself become so attached to you. It was a bad idea from the start, offering myself as your mentor. But I had to know; needed to see what it was about you that had Lex so enraptured, needed to know why you succeeded where so many have failed. And once I did, how could I not fall?"

Clark felt himself blush; belatedly. Letting Bruce watch Lex go down on him, nothing. Hearing Bruce speak so tenderly, like a freaking beacon. This was the Bruce he rarely got to see, the Bruce that had his heart wrenching in distress as it fought to reconcile his love for Lex with his growing affection for his partner in crime-fighting. Clark stepped closer to Bruce, lifting his free hand to his cheek. Softer than he expected, with a hint of stubble scratching lightly against his palm. He watched Bruce's eyes, looking for any sign of rejection, finding none. 

Lex heaved a sigh, his patience worn thin.

"Are we gonna do this, or has this all been a complete waste of time?" He let go of Clark's hand and stepped around him, slipping his tie from around his collar as he maneuvered himself between them, his chest pressing against both of their sides. "Clark, really, you're making this so much more of a production than it needs to be. After six months of learning everything there is to know about Clark Kent, Bruce has inevitably found himself very nearly as much in love with you as I am. And, inadvertently, fell in love with me all over again. You, a man of impeccable taste in men, if not attire, couldn't help but find yourself growing enamored with the enigmatic, brilliant, devilishly handsome man who showed you the ropes of do-gooding and gave you all the helpful advice you could ever seek, even as you tore yourself up about having such feelings for anyone other than me. Even though those feelings never lessened in the company of these new ones. And me, well, you know me, Clark. I don't let just anyone in, and when I do, they're in my heart forever. He wants us, Clark. Both of us. Just let yourself have this. We can work out the details along the way, like we always do."

Clark, his hand still cupping Bruce's cheek, looked over at Lex, gauging his sincerity. It helped that Lex admitted to having feelings for Bruce, too. And there didn't seem to be any trace of a lie in his eyes, eyes that were more open and unguarded than they ever were when he was just trying to get his way. This was more than Lex being horny and looking for a threesome. 

Turning back to Bruce, Clark leaned in slowly, encouraged as he saw Bruce's eyes flick down to his encroaching mouth. Hesitantly, he closed the small gap between them, pressing their lips together. And everything just clicked, the rightness of it all. The press of Lex's body along his side, his hand resting against the small of his back, Bruce's mouth beneath his, warm and unexpectedly pliant, his hand coming up to cup the back of his head. As Bruce's lips parted for his inquisitive tongue, Clark thought maybe, just maybe, this could actually work. And that was the last thought on the subject he was going to allow himself for the night as the taste of Bruce, of whiskey and cool night air, burst on his tastebuds. 

All too soon, Lex tugged at his jaw, and wasn't it a testament to how lost in the kiss he was that Lex hadn't hurt himself with the action, pulled him to his own mouth, lips crushing to his in a bruising, fleeting kiss. A swipe of his tongue over Clark's lips and a growl of hunger, and then he released Clark's chin, turning to Bruce and pulling him into a devouring kiss. Panting, Clark watched the two billionaires, his cock giving a painful throb of reminder. 

Bruce came to life under Lex's mouth, teeth nipping at Lex's lip. Apparently, the brunette had been coiled tight, allowing Clark to lead, take those first tentative steps; now he'd snapped, his free arm wrapping around Lex's waist and crushing the bald man to him, his other hand still carding through Clark's hair, possibly tugging harshly at the strands ineffectively, as his tongue delved into Lex's gasping mouth. God, they were beautiful together. Clark could come just watching them, and if he and Lex had looked anything like that, Bruce had more self-control than he realized. 

He watches them struggle for control of the kiss, neither one gaining the upper hand for more than a few seconds. Bruce's hand is no longer in his hair, instead joining the other in his mad scrabble to relieve Lex of his suit. Lex's jacket is stripped off his shoulders, tossed carelessly to the floor. Buttons ping as Bruce rips his lilac shirt open, revealing a pale, hairless chest. 

"You're paying for that", Lex growls through the panting breaths he's taking, pushing Bruce back towards the wall beside the bed. "Christ, Bruce…bastard!" 

"Name calling will get you nowhere, Luthor." Bruce is smiling at Lex smugly, his voice pitched to Batman. 

Lex snarls at him and redirects his attention back to Clark, pulling him into a kiss no less devouring, albeit less violent, than the one he'd just shared with Bruce. 

"Get naked, Clark, while I ready Bruce for his welcome into our bed."

Clark nodded dumbly, loosening his tie at human speed as Lex stalked back to where Bruce stood, shedding his ruined shirt along the way. 

Lex stepped up to Bruce and began working the buttons of his crisp white button down, taking the care Bruce hadn't bothered with. 

"You left me." Lex's voice was dangerous, and Clark caught Bruce's face soften at the sound of it, his eyes reflecting regret. "You told me you loved me, and then you left me."

Bruce let Lex finish removing his shirt, then caught his wrists tightly, tugging the slimmer man flush against him.

"I had to, Lex. God, I never wanted to leave you, but I needed to get away from Gotham, from the life that was set before me by my parents. I'm sorry I left you to Lionel's tender mercies, but you were too young. I couldn't legally take you with me. And now, I'm glad I left you behind."

"What?"

Bruce brushed a soft kiss across Lex's mouth and turned him around to face Clark, who had stripped out of his shirt and was working on his pants, the button popped, boxers visible where the placket gaped open as his hands stilled momentarily.

"Look what you found while I was away. Clark protected you in a way I never could." Bruce grazed his lips against the sensitive skin behind Lex's ear as he spoke, and Clark watched the shudder run through Lex's slim, pale body. Bruce's eyes caught Clark's, and he let one hand drift down Lex's bare chest to slip beneath his trousers, eliciting a gasp when his fingers wrapped around the solid flesh. "If you had come with me, you never would have fallen in love with him; and neither would I. We would've been missing him, without even being able to understand why we felt that way."

Clark continues undressing as the two older men watch, pushing pants and boxers down his legs and stepping out of the puddle of fabric at his feet. His cock is hard and leaking and curved up to his stomach, and he lets a hand drift down to stroke himself, needing to keep his mind free of the thoughts he promised himself he wouldn't allow to intrude on this night of passion. 

"Fuck, Lex", Bruce groans in Lex's ear, the hand down his pants rubbing teasingly along the hard shaft it's holding. "He's so beautiful. Just like you. Watching the two of you out there, that was the hottest thing I've seen in years. I could almost feel you, when your mouth was around him; I remember how perfect your mouth always was."

"Not as good as his, Bruce, trust me. It's like he was made for it. Almost impossible to make him gag, and he can hold his breath for so fucking long." 

"Well, we'll just have to put that to the test, won't we?" Clark watched Bruce's arm flex, his hidden hand eliciting a drawn-out groan from Lex. "Now, weren't we supposed to be holding off on all the emotional parts for later?"

"Yeah, well, you know me, Bruce. I rarely take my own advice. But don't worry, we're back on track now." And with that, Lex forced himself to pull away from Bruce's grasp, walking the few steps to where Clark stood. "Wanna see if you can take us both, Clark? See if that sweet mouth can stretch wide enough to fit two cocks?"

Clark groaned at the thought of that, and nodded, squeezing his hand around the base of his cock to hold back the sudden urge to come. Lex grinned and pulled him into a quick and dirty kiss. Releasing Clark, he swiftly undid his slacks, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side. 

Bruce stepped up beside Lex, fully naked now, and Clark spared a second to lament missing the slow reveal of the thick, hard cock that jutted out from his groin. Lex lifted his hand and pressed two fingers to Clark's lips, pushing forward as he opened his mouth for them. 

"Bruce, want a preview?" Lex raised an eyebrow and gestured between Bruce's hand and Clark's mouth. Bruce took the hint and slid his own fore and middle finger into Clark's mouth beside Lex's. "Suck them, Clark. Show Bruce how it's going to feel when you're wrapped around our dicks." 

Clark obeyed readily, taking the four digits in as deep as he could, suckling them without a care for the noise he made. He felt Lex stretch his fingers out towards his cheek, the nails brushing against the back of his throat, almost tickling. Bruce groaned as Clark hollowed his cheeks, suctioning around the digits pressing against his tongue, thrusting his gently deeper, testing Clark. 

"Jesus, Lex, you weren't kidding."

"Uh huh. Add another. Let him get used to the stretch a bit." 

Bruce pulled his fingers back, adding his ring finger on the next slide in. Clark gagged a little at the added girth, but quickly managed to adjust, sucking just as eagerly at the new addition. He lapped his tongue over whatever flesh he could reach, his mind filling with images of both mens cocks taking the place of the spit-slick digits. His cock throbbed and he let out a pleading whine. 

Lex took pity and removed his fingers, nudging Bruce to do the same when the brunette continued to finger the shiny mouth. 

"Kneel for us, baby."

Clark dropped to his knees and didn't bother waiting for Lex's next instruction, immediately flicking his tongue out over the leaking head of Lex's cock. Lex moaned at the light touch and angled himself against Clark's side to be able to slide his cock into the wet heat of his mouth and leave room for Bruce to do the same. Bruce mirrored his stance on the other side, a loud, guttural sound falling from his mouth as he eased his cock in beside Lex's. 

Clark let his eyes fall closed as two hands gripped at his hair, moving into their guidance so they wouldn't hurt themselves trying. The feeling of two thick cocks pushing deep into his slackened mouth, of two fat cockheads pressing against the back of his throat, had his arousal surging, and he thrust his own neglected cock into the empty air, struggling not to touch himself. If he did, he would come, and he wasn't exactly sure he wouldn't inflict some serious damage on both men if he lost control of his muscles. 

"God, Clark. You're amazing." Bruce was panting above him; Clark could hear his heart hammering in his chest as he thrust deeper into the tightness of his throat. He thrilled at knowing he was able to generate such a reaction from the normally reserved man. "Such a beautiful cocksucker. Fuck, Lex, how do you ever get anything done, knowing you can have this any time you want?"

"It's a hardship, I know. Next time, I'll let you have the full experience." Lex guided Clark's mouth all the way down their girthy shafts, his free hand coming to soothe Clark's throat as he struggled to relax his gag reflex. "How's your stamina these days, Bruce? If you're one and done, pull out now, 'cause I want you hard when we fuck you."

Clark felt Bruce shudder, a spurt of pre-come sliding down his throat. 

"I can go as many times as you need me, Lex. Trust me, after six months of restraint, there's plenty in my reserves."

Clark forced his eyes open as he felt both cocks thicken further, and pulled back along their throbbing lengths, wanting to see and taste them as they came. He had timed it perfectly, just as he had the tips of both cocks pressed against his tongue, Bruce stiffened beside him, a drawn-out growl falling from his lips as his orgasm hit him. Lex thrust his cock into the cum coating Clark's tongue, leaning towards Bruce to mouth at his neck and cry out his own release. Clark felt his own aching cock spurt at the taste of their combined spend, and forced himself to keep his jaw slack as he came. 

As their climaxes ended and Clark regained his control, he cleaned away every trace of cum from their still-hard cocks, suckling the head of each in turn as he released them. Licking his lips as he looked up at them from beneath his lashes and unruly bangs, he was surprised to find himself pulled up to his feet by Bruce and drawn into a hungry kiss. 

Bruce groaned at the taste of himself and Lex on Clark's tongue as he suckled the wet muscle. He had to admit, the mix was a heady one, and further proof that the three of them made the perfect combination. His hand slid from where it was gripping Clark's bicep, down his chest into the rivulets of Clark's own release. Trailing his fingers through the sticky drops, he gathered up a good glob of it and raised it to their joined mouths. The addition of Clark's cum to the traces of his and Lex's, had Bruce amending his previous sentiment; this was the perfect combination. 

Reaching out his free hand, he sought out Lex, pulling him into the kiss, both him and Clark turning their heads to awkwardly lap at his mouth, bringing more of Clark's spend up for Lex to lick away from both their lips. 

Unable to wait any more, Bruce broke the three-way kiss and pushed Clark backwards onto the bed, thankful for Lex's need to over-indulge with certain things. Climbing up after him, Bruce settled between Clark's spread legs, leaning over him to lap up the sticky remnants of his cum from his abdomen. Clark was still hard, even after two orgasms, the thick length shiny with trails of spend, and Bruce trailed his mouth down to the ruddy appendage. He felt the bed dip, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Lex bending over Clark to whisper something in his ear before capturing his mouth, muffling the moan Bruce caused as he slid his tongue teasingly over the plummy head of his cock. 

Cleaning away the last traces of cum, Bruce sat up, watching the pair kiss, Lex's hands braced against the mattress either side of Clark's head as one of Clark's giant hands cupped the back of Lex's neck, the other dipping down between Lex's legs to play and tease. With his cock eager to get to his promised fucking, Bruce interrupted them.

"As much as I enjoy watching the two of you, Lex, I remember you saying something about the two of you fucking me?"

Both heads whipped towards him, their eyes exuding hunger he was sure was reflected by his own gaze. Lex pulled away and shuffled around on the overly large bed as Clark stood back up. Lex tugged Bruce to the center of the mattress, urging him onto his hands and knees. 

"I'm going to take your mouth, Bruce, and Clark's going to take your ass." Bruce couldn't hold back the shudder of arousal at that, the thought of being speared between the two of them testing his control. "Tell me, though, for prep, would you prefer familiar, or new?"

Much as he had always loved the way Lex opened him up the few times he had bottomed for him, Bruce couldn't pass up the opportunity to feel Clark's fingers stretching him. 

"New." He looked up at Lex, and knew he hadn't offended him with his decision. There would be time for all permutations of their coupling, and none of them would ever intentionally make one of the others feel left out. 

Lex smirked and looked over Bruce's shoulder.

"Clark…"

The bed dipped behind Bruce and he felt Clark's weight settle between his legs, his hands gripping his thighs and spreading them wider. Bruce hummed softly as he felt Clark's hands slide up his thighs to cup the globes of his ass, spreading the cheeks apart. He hadn't felt this vulnerable in so long, even longer since he felt so completely safe at the same time. 

"How long has it been, Bruce?" Lex's smile had softened slightly as he watched Bruce's reactions. 

"Years. Not…I haven't bottomed since you."

"We'll have to get you nice and stretched, then, won't we?" Bruce groaned as Lex's words were accompanied by the first brush of Clark's finger over his puckered hole. "You'll enjoy this, Bruce; I know I always do."

When the finger moved away, Bruce expected the tell-tale sound of a bottle opening; it never came. Instead, Clark shifted between his legs, and he let out a loud yelp as Clark's tongue swiped over the furled ring of muscle. Lex chuckled and bent down to kiss him, his tongue delving into Bruce's mouth to smother his moan as he let his eyes flutter shut. He had never thought Clark would rim him without some serious begging and convincing. For him to do so unbidden, on their first night together, showed him that Clark really was more like himself and Lex than he had realized. 

Bruce was breathless when Lex broke the kiss, Clark's tongue swirling over his hole sloppily and noisily. His cock throbbed between his legs, his earlier climax barely making a difference with the way the two men were driving him wild. He knew Clark could hear how fast his heart was thumping, hell, he could probably smell how hot for it he was. 

Lex watched as Clark rimmed Bruce, his cock aching in remembrance of his own experiences of that sinful tongue slowly working him open. 

"Christ, Clark. I never realized how hot you look like this. You are never eating my ass from behind again if you look anything like this." Clark moaned from between Bruce's spread cheeks, the action drawing a similar response from the older man beneath him. "On my back, from now on, so I can watch you getting me all wet and stretched for you. Fuck, I'm going to suck your cock, Clark."

Bruce forced his eyes open as he felt Lex moving around, twisting his head over his shoulder to watch the lithe man lay down on his back under Clark. A rumbling vibration against his asshole alerted him to the moment Lex had taken Clark's cock into his mouth, and he pushed back against Clark's slick mouth, needing more. 

"Clark, please. Fuck, feel so good; need you in me."

Clark obliged, his tongue stiffening to prod into Bruce's loosening hole. Between the dark taste of Bruce on his tongue and the feel of Lex's warm mouth around his cock, he knew he would come again before he finished preparing the brunette that writhed beneath him. 

Lex took as much of Clark's cock down his throat as he could manage, his tongue laving along the girthy shaft. Stretching out a hand, he wrapped his fingers around Bruce's hard length, stroking it in time to Clark's thrusts into his mouth. 

"Oh, God, Lex! You are evil, after all. Fuck, tighter, Lex." Bruce thrust his hips, pushing into the tight grip of Lex's hand, and back onto Clark exploring tongue. He cried out in pleasure as he felt Clark easing a finger into him beside his tongue, the thick digit tugging at his rim. "Shit! Yeah, Clark, like that. More. Want you, Clark."

Clark felt his third orgasm surging fast despite his previous releases as he slid another finger into Bruce, stretching them out to flick his tongue deeper into the warm passage. Lex was swallowing around him, his muffled grunts vibrating along his shaft, and he could hear the slick sounds of skin on skin as Lex jerked himself and Bruce off. Scraping his teeth over the edge of Bruce's rim, he felt him stiffen suddenly, his hole spasming around him as the older brunette came with a shout. Pulling away with one last noisy lick of his tongue, Clark focused on fucking the mouth that still worked his cock. 

"Jesus, fuck, Clark! Lex! Want you." 

Bruce rode out his climax on Clark's fingers, a particularly large spurt of cum bursting forth as he thrust back on the thick digits, feeling the tips prodding against his prostate. Clark continued stretching him as he sought his own release down Lex's throat, the bed shaking from their efforts. 

Lex let go of Bruce's sticky cock, his cum-slick hand immediately pulled up to Clark's mouth, his other hand speeding along his aching shaft as he felt Clark's tongue laving away Bruce's spend. Between the sounds of Bruce fucking himself on Clark's fingers, the feel of Clark's thickening cock stretching his throat, and Clark's wet tongue licking between his fingers, Lex let his climax wash over him, his screaming of pleasure muffled by Clark's thrusting length. 

A light spatter of cum landed on Clark's lower back as Lex came, and Clark stilled above the two mortal men, cock and fingers buried deeply in mouth and ass as his own orgasm was triggered by the tightening of Lex's throat around him. 

"Oh, God! Lex…Bruce…so fucking good. So perfect. Love your mouth, Lex." Clark babbled as he came down Lex's swallowing throat, this orgasm more intense than the last. "And, God, Bruce, your ass…so fucking sweet, so tight. Lex and I are going to be fighting over who gets to work you open every time we fuck."

Lex let his released hand slide over Clark's chest as he rode out his release, fingers pinching taut nipples, relishing the slide of thick cum down his throat. Finally, as his and Clark's climaxes subsided, Clark easing his cock from Lex's abused throat. Lex squirmed out from beneath him, licking up his own cum from Clark's backside as he kneeled up on the bed. 

"Goddamn, I love your cock, Clark." Lex scooped up the bottle of lube he had set aside, handing it to Clark as he clambered up the bed to kneel in front of Bruce. Leaning down, he kissed Bruce soundly, sharing the lingering taste of their Kryptonian partner. "And, trust me, Bruce, so will you. Still up for another round?"

"I'm insulted you think you even have to ask, Lex. Believe me, if his cock feels anywhere as good as his fingers, I'm not waiting."

Bruce moaned in remorse as he felt Clark's fingers slip out of him, but the sound of a bottle snicking open behind him sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. With Clark unable to contract human diseases, and Lex's mutated healing, Bruce knew condoms would never be an issue, and he didn't think he'd want Clark fucking him any other way than bareback. He felt Clark reach beneath him, slick fingers stroking his cock back to full hardness in a matter of seconds. Lex, himself, was only half-hard, and Bruce couldn't wait to feel that long, slim cock growing thicker along his tongue. 

"Gonna fuck you so hard." Clark's voice was it's Superman rumble, confident and commanding, as he leaned over and pressed heated kisses along Bruce's back. Bruce could feel the thick shaft of his cock rubbing between his cheeks, and his cock twitched hard. "Six months, Bruce, six months of imagining this, thinking I could never have it. Ask Lex how explosive it was when we finally came together."

"God, I thought we were going to bring the mansion crumbling down around us." Lex leered down at Bruce. "I felt him for days, he fucked me so good."

"Jesus. Clark, stop teasing. In me, now." Bruce let his voice growl, urgency driving him to the animal side of himself he reigned in so tightly. "Take me, both of you."

Clark groaned and slicked his cock quickly, notching the head at Bruce's relaxed pucker, watching Lex. As Lex pressed his own cock past Bruce's lips, Clark thrust slowly forward, the two of them skewering their new lover simultaneously. The head of his cock popped past the first ring of muscle, and Clark fought not to thrust completely into the tight heat of Bruce's ass. Bruce groaned around Lex's cock, pushing back against Clark's piercing cock despite the burn of the stretch. 

Lex pulled his cock out briefly as Bruce strove to take all of Clark's long, thick cock, wondering if his face looked so blissed out every time Clark fucked him. When he saw that Bruce's ass was flush against Clark's groin, Clark's hands soothing along Bruce's sides as the older man adjusted to the girth, Lex thrust his cock back into Bruce's mouth, sliding the length slowly down until Bruce's nose was buried in the sparse auburn curls around his base. God, he'd missed this mouth; no less perfect than Clark's and uniquely sublime in a completely different way than his Kryptonian lover's. 

Pulling out halfway, Clark thrust back in, angling his cock to rub over Bruce's prostate, his enhanced vision tuning in to guide the way. 

"Fuck, Bruce. Your ass is so fucking amazing. So tight and hot." Clark's hands slid down Bruce's back to grip tightly at his hips, shifting him between himself and Lex to start a rocking rhythm. "Gonna tie both of you down one night, just take turns fucking each of you 'till you can't even sit down at a board meeting without thinking of my cock filling you up. Christ, how did either of you ever get anything done? Lex, can you manage another after you come in his mouth? I wanna fuck you, too."

Lex groaned loudly and thrust deeper into Bruce's lax throat, somewhat surprised by just how horny Clark was tonight. 

"Jesus Christ, I can sure as hell try, Clark. God, even if I don't come, I'm not saying no to having your dick split me open." Lex heard Bruce grunt around his cock and looked down, thrilled at the way their conversation was clearly driving him crazy. He cupped Bruce's cheek, drawing his gaze up to his smirking face. "Maybe I'll even slide my cock into Bruce's dripping hole while you do. Let you fuck me into him, your cum easing the way."

Bruce shuddered, a full body convulsion, and came. He felt his face heat slightly in shame at his total loss of control, but he couldn't stop the sudden orgasm that rocketed through him, huge spurts of cum soaking the already damp comforter. 

Clark growled as Bruce clamped down around him, the already tight passage now squeezing him enough that it would have been painful for a human. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he fought not to immediately follow Bruce into orgasm as the brunette writhed and shook in his grip. 

"Guess you liked that idea, eh, Brucie? Made you pop like a pricked balloon. And still so good about the teeth, even in the throes of pleasure."

Lex slipped his fingers through Bruce's hair, tugging him along the shaft of his throbbing cock, eager to come. The thought of him and Clark filling Bruce's mouth and ass with their spend had him hard as a rock. These two men were proving to be better aphrodisiacs than anything he'd ever happened across. Feeling the head of his cock slip down into Bruce's throat, Lex let his head fall back on his shoulders and thrust his hips in aborted movements, fucking the tight passage with abandon as his climax coursed through him. 

Bruce gulped the sticky fluid eagerly, still reeling from his own release, the constant pressure of Clark's cick against his prostate keeping his own erection from flagging. He licked up along the shaft as Lex withdrew, heady from the taste and the rapid-succession orgasms. He felt almost high, euphoric like that really good batch of X Lex had cooked up for fun that one summer. After six months of forgoing even masturbating - a deluded attempt to abate all thoughts of Clark beyond the professional - and years since he'd been on the receiving end of any kind of sex outside of a quick, perfunctory blowjob, his hormones were going a little berserk. 

"God, Bruce, didn't know you were such a slut for cock, coming at just the thought of Lex fucking you while you're still full of my cum. You're just full of surprises, aren't you, baby?"

Clark rode Bruce's ass harder, chasing his own release now, desperate for it, some Kryptonian instinct driving him to claim this new addition to their bed, just as he had needed to claim Lex their first time. He felt his cock twitch hard, thickening further inside the clutching hole, and roared out his need as he came. Ropes of cum jettisoned from his pulsing cock, filling Bruce so quickly that he could feel it seep out around his cock after the first few spurts. He wondered if Bruce would let them plug him after Lex fucked him? The thought of keeping Bruce stretched and ready for them, slick with their seed and his belly bulging from the excessive fluid, triggered another load of cum, and he thanked his alien physiology that he couldn't have an aneurysm from overexertion. 

As his climax finally receded, Clark eased his cock slowly from Bruce's reddened, leaking hole, reluctant to leave the tight ass that had given him so much pleasure, but eager to sink himself into Lex. He knew there was always great pleasure to be had there, as well. By the way Bruce's weight sagged in his grip, he knew he was the only thing keeping the nearly spent human from collapsing to the mattress in a limp sprawl.

"Jesus, Clark. I knew you'd be good at that, but that was beyond anything I could have imagined." 

Lex chuckled at Bruce's slurred voice, knowing his once-ex was officially cum-drunk. He quickly maneuvered Bruce up the bed so that he lay on his side, facing him, his head cushioned on one of the plush pillows. He laid out beside him, leaning in to kiss him languidly as he felt Clark spoon up beside him. One more round, and they would no doubt fall asleep just like this, covered in each other's sweat, saliva, and semen. Lex would grumble when he woke up sticky, but he knew Clark would kiss away any complaints and swiftly remind him why it was a good idea at the time. 

"God, you're still so beautiful when you come, Bruce. Though I hadn't realized you'd become a hair-trigger."

"I've gotten rusty in my abstinence. I can't believe I came so quick, without even being touched. Your sailor mouth I'm used to," Bruce flashed Lex a pointed look, before casting his gaze over Lex's shoulder, "but hearing you talk like that, Clark, I couldn't hold back."

"I liked it. I like knowing that you're so hot for me, for Lex, that you can't help yourself. Lex knows." Clark bit lightly at Lex's neck, eliciting a deep groan. 

"Oh, yeah. Our boy gets extra hot knowing he can turn me into a puddle of goo with just a well-placed suggestion, or a teasing touch. That shy, reserved farm-boy-turned-reporter doesn't exist when it comes to sex. Now, you gonna fuck me, Clark, or am I going to have to fuck Bruce with my own strength?"

Clark barked a laugh and reached for the lube he'd set between them. He poured the slightest amount of lube onto Lex's cock, knowing Bruce was plenty stretched and wet. Slicking up his fingers, he slid his hand down between Lex's firm cheeks, finding his tight hole practiced ease. Lex let out a whine of pleasure as Clark rubbed a finger around his rim, slipping the digit in slowly as the furl loosened. 

As Clark worked him open, Lex gripped Bruce's outer thigh, tugging him closer so that Lex was slotted between his legs. He draped the leg over his and Clark's hips, leaving the older man spread open. Thrusting back onto Clark's questing fingers, his cock slid down between Bruce's legs, behind his nearly depleted sac, to nestle into the opening of his twitching hole. Lex could feel Clark's cum dripping from the used hole, and he moaned at the slick warmth that trickled down his shaft. He was tempted to thrust himself into the brunette to the hilt, but knew he wouldn't have to wait long for Clark's invading cock to push him into Bruce. 

As if he'd suddenly gained telepathy, Clark removed his fingers, quickly replacing them with his cock. Lex let his head fall back against Clark's shoulder with a loud groan as he was filled completely in a single thrust. It hurt, but in the best way, his cock twitching where it was held in place against Bruce's stretched rim. Another groan was ripped from his throat as Clark pushed him into Bruce, the wet, tight heat surrounding his cock like a vise in this position. 

Bruce keened, the sudden thrust of Lex's cock into him making him clutch at Lex's shoulder, his leg clenching against the swell of Clark's ass. Lex flung an arm back to grip at Clark, his other hand tangling in Bruce's hair to pull him into a desperate kiss. He really didn't know if he could manage to come again, but his cock was giving a valiant effort, throbbing back to life inside the tight passage, his prostate pummeled with each quick thrust of Clark's hips. Sounds of flesh slapping sweatily against flesh, of Clark's grunts and Bruce's muffled moans, spurred him on. 

"This is…fucking…incredible," Clark panted in Lex's ear, teeth scraping against his neck. "Next time, I want you in my ass like this, Lex, fucking me into Bruce. Jesus, not gonna last. Too good."

Lex agreed, the feeling of Bruce wrapped around his cock, driving into his clenching passage while surrounded in Clark's cum, the steady thrust of Clark's huge cock into his own twitching hole, was just too much to keep control over the amazing fourth orgasm he felt rushing up his spine. With the way Bruce clutched at them both as Lex kissed him sloppily, told him they were all in sync on the subject. 

Burying his face in the crook of Lex's shoulder, his hand reaching out to clutch the other two to him, Clark jackrabbited his hips in a succession of bruising thrusts as he gave in to his need for release. As he poured whatever was left of his seemingly endless supply of cum into Lex, he felt Bruce and Lex stiffen in his embrace, both men moaning out the orgasms he'd wrung from their overstimulated bodies. 

Bruce went limp in Lex's and Clark's grasps, unused to the onslaught of sensations coursing through him after so long. He whited out for a few seconds, his cock still spurting trickles of cum onto his and Lex's chests when he came back to consciousness. He could feel Lex's cock still pulsing inside him, and he was amazed at how much the mutated, but still essentially human, man could come in such a short time span. He definitely had his work cut out for him with these two. 

Lex felt like he was floating, his whole body felt weightless, like if Clark and Bruce unwound themselves from him, he would drift up into the atmosphere. He'd had some spectacular sex with both these men, separately. Together, it was beyond his ken. His cock surged in Bruce's spasming hole, his cum mingling with Clark's, coating the passage and his shaft in the sticky substance. His ass throbbed deliciously as Clark's orgasm petered out and the Kryptonian eased carefully out of his twitching hole. 

As he'd suspected, Lex felt Clark use his speed to pull the covers from underneath his and Bruce's lax and sated bodies, slipping back in behind him before draping the sheets back over them. Lazy kisses were shared between the three of them, lips pressing to whatever skin could be reached. As Lex let his eyes droop closed, he heard Bruce's soft snores issuing from in front of him, and felt the gentle sweep of Clark's fingers over heated skin at his back. Enveloped so snuggly between past, present, and future, Lex let himself drift off to sleep, a sated smile on his face. He loved it when a plan succeeded without a hitch.

~~~~~~~~

@leatafandom

[presidentlokis-hornyhelmet]

I have like MULTIPLE ideas so like, i think i should list them all just for you and you can basically just pick the one you actually feel like writing 🫶

Hobies younger sibling!Reader x Pavitr: Basically you and Hobie were both bitten by the same spider and like you both got recruited to the Spider Society together and like Hobie decides to introduce you to his friend, Pavitr, in which you were completely mesmerized of in which you didnt even realized you started falling for him.

Love triangle: Reader is torn inbetween choosing to love Pavitr or Spider-man, just not entirely knowing that they were the same person.

Recconecting: You and Pavitr were childhood bestfriends, yet inbetween your frienship, you had to move away. You guys were still in touch aswell, and little did Pavitr know, you decided to surprise him by finally moving back to your hometown where you and Pavitr used to live.

Have fun writing what you want, these are just udeas that's been stuck on my head yet i'm too lazy to write smh 😭🙏

Mutually Inclusive

🕷 Masterlist 🕷

A/N: I am sooo sorry for the delay I just couldn't choose ONE!! all of these are so good I wanna do eveythinggggg ASDFGHJKSKSK but since i'm a Sucker for the 2nd trope..

Pairing: Pavitr Prabhakar x reader Summary: You are torn between choosing to love Pavitr and Spider-man, just not entirely knowing that they are the same person. Tags: Love Triangle-ish, Secret Identity, Flirting, Pet Names, lack of self preservation ⚠️Trigger Warning: Near death experiences ⚠️

Also read on AO3

C'mon, he said. It'll be fun, he said.

You huff and roll your eyes standing in the middle of the crowded bazaar. Pavitr Prabhakar, AKA your best friend, had somehow convinced you to go for a vadapav, claiming it was The Best in all of Mumbattan and gotten you stranded in the middle of the biggest and most crowded market of the country. According to him, it was a ""#divine experience"" and ""relief to your taste buds."" The last line being met with a slap to his head.

"Stay right here and don't stray."

You send him away with a playful punch to his shoulder.

That was an hour ago. He'd left you standing at a corner to buy you guys a plate and still hadn't returned. You huff and tap your foot impatiently, licking your ice-cream and wondering what the hell is taking him so long. Buying vadapav can't be that hard.

All of sudden, people around you begin to run and yell and make way for something.

Very belatedly you realize a truck has lost it's way and is now coming right at you in full speed. You freeze on the spot, unable to move, paralyzed by mortal fear.

This is a terrible way to die!

It's like your motor controls failed all of a sudden. You can feel the angry squeals of the tyres and the horn blaring wildly from where you're standing. None of the onlookers dared to move, frozen in shock themselves.

You dare to blink, accepting your ill-fate. Heart thumping loudly in your chest, the beat in your ears, you stand in the middle of street like a deer caught in headlights. 'This is it', you think, frightened, Pavitr being your last thought in that moment.

As quick as a flash, you're being swept off into the air and landed safely in a quite secluded place nearby.

The squeak of tyres against the asphalt still rings in your ears, the loud crash of the truck colliding with a wall still shaking your bones. You peek from behind your human shield and faintly realized no damage has been done, except probably to the wall and the truck.

As if you only then come back into your body, the fact that you looked death in the eye finally catches up to you, releasing the breath you didn't know you were holding.

Your eyes shamelessly trail down your savior.  Wow. Oh my god. It's him, it's Spider-man! The superhero you admire a lot (and low key have a crush on)! And he's hugging you! "Oh thank god, you're okay!", he bursts out and then seems to remember himself, recovering quite clumsily with a stiff pat to your shoulder. "Uh, I meant, you're a beautiful stranger that I do not know!"

Good lawd, did Spider-man just call you 'beautiful'?! (Poor Pavitr's never gonna hear the end of it).

"T-thank you, for saving me", you say, mesmerized by him. He runs a hand through his his luscious raven curls waving in the chilly evening breeze (why does that feel familiar?)

"My pleasure, gorgeous. I don't usually play knight in shining armour, but I can make an exception."

Was he..?! OMG.

Spider-man. Just. Flirted. With. You!

His smile is so bright and radiant, contagious, and the wink that followed does nothing to help stop your fluttering heart. A smirk pulls at his lips -and you gotta admit, it is pretty hot- with which he disappears into the rosy evening of the dazzling Mumbattan sky. You sigh dreamily, rubbing your arms together as you walk outside, totally not thinking about the mysterious yet no less magnetic eyes behind the mask.

"Y/n? Where did you leave!?"

"I left you?" You turn around slowly. One look at the vadapav-lover before you and he shuts up.

_______

You are not thinking about him. Not at all. Not in class, not in the shower, not on your bed when you were supposed to be doing homework, not on the TV or getting excited at even the mention of him on the news. Nope, no sir. Not at all. Nu-uh.

Okay, maybe a little.

Pavitr rolls his eyes, snapping his book shut. You guys were supposed to be studying together but all he did was listen to you gush about your superhero crush. "Really, Y/N, what do you even see in him anyway?"

"He's smart, he's intelligent-"

Pav mumbles something, but you ignore him all the same.

"-he's handsome, he's talented, he saves people, he fights evil... he's a nice guy. Heart of gold. He is Spider-man!", you exclaim in exasperation, your fingers doing wild gestures in the air as he watches you amused.

Pavitr chuckles. "Don't get me wrong, I think he's pretty neat too, but you gotta admit: he can't hold a candle to me."

"Oh, fo' sho'", you shoot back sardonically.

"You see Y/N, the real question is.. is he a romantic like me?"

"Are you now?"

Pavitr then seemed to flip into a total Romeo mode, easing back on the chair and running a hand through his raven locks. "Hey, sweetlips", he begins in a deeper baritone, "tonight I was thinking-"

"-Of doing your homework? I hope it's doing your homework, Pavi beta! Good grades speak for themselves, you know", Maya aunty chimes in from the kitchen.

Pav blushes, replying a slightly embarrassed affirmation and goes back to studying.

You snort behind your palm, unaware that your heart is already melting.

_______

The next time you meet Spider-man is at a fair. You went there with Pavitr, a night full of cheesy pick-up lines and horrible puns not letting the smile fall from your lips for even a fraction of a second. It's all fun and games, Gayatri leaving you two alone and unsupervised -a bad decision, really- to go off with her crush. You play more games, help a cute little boy win a hedgehog plushie and then wander around aimlessly until Pavitr disappears to buy more snacks.

You were standing beneath the gigantic Ferris wheel, munching on your corn while something akin to the sound of a dying whale catches your ears. Turning around, you realize the Ferris wheel has lost balance and is about to fall.

It is utter chaos. The crowd goes haywire, scared people bumping into each other in haste to get away and panic. You find safety but seeing the little boy from earlier run towards the falling machinery to retrieve his plushie stops your heart. Without another thought, you run after him.

Its too late, now. The metal joints have come off and there are mere seconds for it's fall. You shield the little boy with yourself and shut your eyes tight, waiting for your impending doom, looking up in shock when it doesn't come.

The boy lets out a tiny gasp. "Spider-man!"

Indeed, the famous wall-crawler stands before you, webbing up the steel rods of the wheel. It's basically being held together by his sticky solution. You watch as he places a number of steel columns to hold up the broken part of the wheel and only moves from the place once he's sure it will sustain a bit longer.

Applauds rise from all around and people cheer, worried parents thanking him for returning their son in one piece. His eyes finally turn to you dusting dirt off your dress and you catch his in a mesmerizing gaze like before.

He offers you his hand and pulls you up in one -admittedly sexy- move.

"God, I was so worrie-!", he says before stopping himself.

There it is again, the familiar unfamiliarity. It puts you on alarm but also melts your heart -if that makes sense.

"Thanks again, for saving me. I owe you."

"You owe me nothing, sweetlips. Just.. keep yourself safe, okay?" With a wink, your masked heartthrob disappears into the skies again.

Okay, he definitely called you a pet name. That's gotta mean something, right?

Pavitr finds you right after, hugging you and thanking every God in existence that you're alive. You calm him down and decide to go home -that was enough for one day- but you just can't help wondering where you had heard that pet name before.

Sweetlips..

_______

Was it normal to be in love with two guys? Should you have to choose?

One is sweet ol' beloved Pavitr: charming, good-hearted, witty, amazing hair, humorous, cheesy puns, vadapav-lover. The other being literally ✨️Spider-man! ✨️

And you loved them both equally; torn between two good-hearted guys you cared about. This was torture.

But weirder than that, you felt you were missing something. Like you know it, it's at the tip of your tongue but you just can't seem to know what! Not to mention the weird coincidence of Spider-man's and Pav's pet names for you.

Argh, love is a disaster.

_____

Pavitr is walking you home from school that day when you decide to tell him everything.

You had chosen your best friend.

Not that he knew there was someone else but.. for some reason, you feel guilty for not choosing Spider-man and that weighed on you. You figured telling your bestie would ease atleast a little of it.

"Hey, Pav?"

He hums, his raven-wing hair whipping as he turns around, coming to a stop beside you. "Yes, meri jaan?"

Some of the ice cream you were licking has smeared on your nose and with a playfully disapproving look, Pav reaches out and wipes it off.

See, it's the little things like these that make you fall for him even more.

"I need to tell you something. I.. You know how I love Spider-man, right? I mean, I talk about him all the time, but.. -ugh, God, I'm so terrible at this!" You cut yourself off with an embarrassed chuckle as he patiently watches you, amused. "What I'm really trying to say is-"

"HELP! HELP- AHHHH!"

The sudden cry catches you off guard and you startle. Pavitr is gone when you look for him and -assuming he's gone to get help- you run towards the direction of the voice. It comes from an alley nearby and you go there just in time to see Spider-man web up a couple of goons and leave them hanging upside down from a light post, the elderly lady nearby thanking him profusely.

When he spots you, his face immediately brightens. "Hey", he says, breathless, walking towards you, "do you happen to have a Band-Aid by any chance?"

"Ye-"

" 'Cause I just scraped my knee falling for you."

Oh no, not again. Not your heart melting into a puddle, not right now! (Be strong Y/N!)

But all you can get out is a dreamy, "Spider-man"

The vigilante hero suddenly falls quiet, hesitating. "I, uh, actually have something to tell you"

Your heart thumps so loudly in your chest, you can hear it in your ears! It won't be what you were thinking. Surely not.

(Technically, you haven't chosen yet. And, you don't have to choose only one of them, right?)

"Listen, I.. I think I love you."

Oh. Oh..

"I'm sorry", you sigh, feeling real bad for the superhero standing before you.

His face falls under the mask, and that more than anything else, breaks your heart.

You shouldn't do this to him. It's cruel, really. This guy is out here risking his life yet here you are, breaking his heart. It's  painful for both of you.

"I like you", you say, "very much! But I can't.. you're a superhero and I'm just an ordinary person, I rather not risk both our lives."

He is still, very still. A moment later, he finally speaks. "You love someone else." It wasn't a question.

"It's my best friend, Pavitr. He's.. God, he's everything to me. I'm sorry. It's a probably a bad decision, but it's mine."

To your shock, a wide smile pulls at his lips, his face almost glowing -you feel it more than seeing it. "I think it's the best decision."

The spider-hero stands tall, and in a flash, rips off his mask. His curly hair rustles in the wind, eyes sparkling with mischief -the eyes you've known so well, more than your own; those very same hypnotizing brown eyes.

"At least to me, meri jaan."

This little shit-

"I apologize, I haven't totally been honest with you", he chuckles when you grab him by the collar, pulling you close as you playfully punch him in the chest.

YOU KNEW IT! You knew he was too familiar!

"Me neither. Although..", you smirk, "now that I think about it, I actually love Spider-man more."

"Guess I have to settle for heartbreak then", he sighs dramatically, hugging you closer. "Hey, you don't happen to be a vigilante superhero with amazing hair by any chance, do you?"

You slap his head before pulling your best friend in for a kiss.

There's no one else you'd rather fall in love with.

------

🎶🎵"It's funny 'cause you drive me half insane A universe without you would be thoroughly mundane There's no one else I'd rather fall in love with And that is my best friend in the world"🎶🎵 'Best Friend' by Laufey

(someone in the notes pav was so Laufey coded so i went with that lol)

[strangeswift]

In all of the nightmares Will had over the years about being back in the Upside Down, he'd never dreamed up a scenario anything like this. He understandably thought that his primary concern would be the monsters that wanted to kill and eat him. That certainly was a concern… but maybe a sub-concern. If he was being totally honest, his primary concern —because he was an idiot— was his current proximity to Mike Wheeler.

Will pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself, trying and failing to keep warm. Castle Byers was small. The last time he and Mike were in the real Castle Byers, they both fit easily. Now Will had to fold in on himself to keep from getting too close. Granted, that wasn't something he would've been concerned about as a kid either, back when Mike would let him rest his head on his shoulder as he read aloud from a book. Will would listen to him as he read for hours, forget about his parents fighting, forget about the kids at school, forget about everything but Mike.

Things were different now. Will learned as he got older that there's certain things you don't do with friends, especially other boys. Lately, Mike had been pushing those boundaries, even though he was the one who set them in the first place, so suddenly that Will hardly had time to adjust.

Will didn't push. He didn't touch. He tried not to look for too long – or at least not to get caught. He also tried not to get comfortable. Mike was like this once before, until he wasn't. It could very well come to an abrupt end. So he kept a careful distance, hence his primary concern being the current lack of physical distance.

"Time really is frozen down here," Mike commented, looking around the interior walls of Castle Byers and inching closer to Will, seemingly oblivious to Will's concerns.

Will shifted uncomfortably. "Did you think Nancy was lying about that?" he asked.

"No, I just– I guess we're lucky this Castle Byers is still standing," Mike said.

Will grimaced and averted his eyes. The silence was heavy, Will felt like he might suffocate under its weight. Or maybe that was just the toxic spores he was inhaling.

"Will?" Mike asked.

"Yeah?" Will breathed.

"It wasn't… It wasn't the storm, was it?" he asked carefully.

Will met his eyes for a moment. Maybe the tears welling up in his eyes were confirmation enough, because Mike looked pained and took a shaky breath. "I shouldn't have said that," he said.

They both knew exactly what he was referring to, they've each spent a lot of time replaying that day over and over, both wishing they could just take it back.

Will blinked at him. "Why did you?" he croaked.

Mike’s eyes went a little wide. He opened his mouth to say something, then quickly snapped it shut. Will wished he hadn't asked. He had a feeling Mike wouldn't know how to answer, and if he did, it probably wasn't something he'd want to hear.

And yet, Will could've sworn he saw Mike take a fleeting glance at his lips. He thought he must have been mistaken, until–

Mike was kissing him.

Mike had his hands on the side of Will's face, and he was kissing him, and it was warm and soft and his lips were chapped, and before Will could even begin to think about kissing him back, it was over.

"I'm sorry," Mike whispered, panicked. "I'm sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry."

Will wasn't sure if he was apologizing for the kiss, or what he said years ago in the rain, or both.

It didn't matter. Will forgave him.

He grabbed Mike's face and pulled him closer, their lips colliding for a second time, less soft and more frantic. Mike responded immediately, kissing Will like his life depended on it, like he'd been drowning and he just reached the surface, taking in his first breaths of fresh air.

Mike curled his fists in the fabric of Will's jacket and pulled him impossibly closer. Will slid his hands into Mike's hair. He belatedly realized that his face was wet. He was crying.

Mike pulled back again, pressing their foreheads together. "Because I was in love with you," he whispered, "I said it because I was in love with you, and I was so scared, because I thought I wasn't supposed to be. I thought it was wrong."

Will opened his mouth to speak, but Mike interjected, "It's not. This isn't wrong," he said firmly, "This is– Will, please say you love me too."

Will leaned in. "I love you, Mike," he whispered against Mike's lips, "I love you so much."

Mike kissed him again, and Will mentally amended his primary concern, which was now the proximity of his lips to Mike's, and how to keep it for as long as possible.

—

happy birthday @mayahawkins !!!

i finally did it. i hope it lived up to your vision 🫶 if there is typos.. sorry ily <3

(fun fact for everyone, maddy and i's first ever interaction was that silly little post, and i've always said i was gonna write a proper ficlet to commemorate our friendship. so this is that!)

[marys-little-cringes]

Too sweet Pt.2

#too sweet clex

Pt.1 - Pt.3

Fandoms: Smallville

Relationships: Clark Kent/Lex Luthor

Additional Tags: Bromance, Bromance to Romance, Pre-Slash, AU, Slice of Life, Songfic

Summary:

The events take place after "Let me start with a clean slate". Lex's trying to make sense of himself after the merger and discovering its frustrating consequences.

Part 2

Lex put aside another stack of documents and rubbed his eyes. He needed to get some rest, there was still an hour before his flight to Metropolis.

The phone rang.

“I'm listening.”

“Mr Luthor, good morning,” a man said. “Professor Campbell, Metropolis Observatory. You asked me to inform you personally of any possible 'remarkable astronomical phenomena', should any occur in the foreseeable future. I inform you that on the seventh of December the Moon will eclipse Jupiter. The phenomenon will be visible on our telescopes. We are very grateful for your generous donation and look forward to welcoming you and your companion on that day.”

A dozen questions popped into Lex's head at once, but the answers came almost instantly. He thanked the professor sparingly, said goodbye and then sighed heavily, letting his face fall into his open palms. So this was the transaction he'd discovered while looking at the financial statements for the period of his "absence".

“Fascinating…” was all he muttered.

It turned out that Lex was inhabited by a surprisingly incompetent philanthropist. To lure a team of astronomers – not to detect aliens, but to impress a farm boy! What a joke! Lex could only hope that no one else knew about it, he certainly wouldn't want to resort to extreme measures...

Cursing through his teeth, he grabbed the next folder of documents. He could hardly rest now.

***

Lex returned to the mansion in the evening, angry and tired. The negotiations with the Japanese had gone badly. They had signed a cooperation agreement on terms that would have made even the Paris Peace Treaty look like a victory for the Russian Empire, but under the current circumstances, LuthorCorp desperately needed their technological assistance. Lex wanted to get to the whiskey table as quickly as possible. He bumped into someone in the doorway of his own office. Apparently, Lex had underestimated the extent of his fatigue, for the blow was so hard that it literally knocked the ground out from under his feet. He was about to fall back when strong hands grabbed him and pulled him straight up.

“Clark?!” Surprised, Lex blurted it out more rudely than he had planned.

“I... uh... Lex, they told me you weren't here, they offered to wait, and I... decided to wait, and then I changed my mind...”

Lex rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

“Lex, are you okay?” Clark's face changed.

“I'm fine.”

It belatedly dawned on Lex that his food and drink for the entire day had been a couple of glasses of whiskey.

Clark finally stepped aside. Holding his head in his hands, Lex walked over to the couch and sat down heavily.

“Lex!” The young man exclaimed. “You're bleeding!”

Lex tried to inhale through his nose and grimaced with pain and irritation. He was so exhausted that he hadn't even noticed that the headache had been preceded by a blow... What could he have hit so hard that it hurt his nose? While Lex pondered this, unconsciously falling into a nap after a second sleepless night, Clark rushed around the office. Finally, he approached Luthor and woke him up by placing an ice pack on the bridge of his nose. Lex, a little surprised, took the improvised compress and tilted his head back.

“Damn, I hope it's not a fracture,” Clark muttered guiltily. “Lex, I'm so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

The cold had a sobering effect.

“This is not your fault.”

“But your shirt—”

There were red drops and stains on the purple silk. Clark knelt down and tried to wipe the blood from Lex's face, but Luthor petulantly pushed his hands away.

“Clark, I said I'm fine. I can order the same thing tomorrow. It was an accident, a stupid accident. Calm down, sit down.”

Clark obediently moved from the floor to the couch, tucked his restless hands between his knees and looked anxiously at Luthor's face to see if the blood was still flowing.

“So, Clark, why did you come?”

"Oh, I... today's tdropping off some groceries and, well, I thought I'd stop by

Lex looked at the confused young man. At his flushed cheeks, at the restless gaze of his blue eyes and parted lips, searching for new excuses. He had to close his eyes tightly, forcing himself not to look, lest he accidentally devour the Kent with his stare.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Uh, right, I...” Clark jumped over the couch like a tensioned spring. “I'll go then. Have a nice evening!”

Lex nodded weakly.

As soon as he was gone, Lex hit the couch with the cold compress in his hand. Small pieces of ice with sharp edges bit into his skin, the pain echoing in the bridge of his nose. It cooled him down a bit.

He faintly hoped that he would be able to avoid sleep again that night, but eventually he fell asleep on the couch. In his dream, he pressed Clark Kent against the same couch, greedily devouring his soft lips. Blood ran down that sweet, young, smiling face.