#wade would give me forehead kisses i swear

[greatvalueloki]

How the fuck do i draw wade wilson with a slutty little waist and his 2 husbands with the ugliest fucking resting bitch face ever

[silentium-symphony]

A Lamb in Wolf's Clothing (Link x Reader) SMUT

(a/n) hey ya'll! i'm so sorry for going MIA for a few months--as some of you may know, I have just recently graduated from college, so there are a lot of big changes happening in my life right now! i appreciate your continued patience with me :) this fic was commissioned by the lovely @mistressofdeathsblog! thank you for giving me such a fun prompt, I had a lot of fun trying smth new and I hope you enjoy it too!

before you start reading, please take special note of the cw below. also, please remember that this is not a healthy relationship you want to emulate and is written for the sole purpose of entertainment. if you are in a relationship that strips your autonomy and you feel unsafe bringing this issue up to the offending party/parties, please reach out to someone you trust. there is no power in staying if there is no freedom to leave. stay safe out there.

and ofc, since this is smut, minors do not interact with this piece.

cw: dubcon, afab!reader, ooc!link since i highly doubt Hylia's Hero would be so life-alteringly possessive of their lover, tp!link, reader being chased, reader being held against their will, blood, tight spaces, swearing, name-calling, dumbification kinda??, cunnilingus, doggy, mirror/standing sex

wc: 5k

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Sweat and blood dribbled down your forehead, stinging your eyes with a salty, metallic bite. Thorn-kissed hands grasped and blindly waded through thick patches of bramble. The dark, bristling whips that surrounded you worked every exposed piece of skin into a raw, bloody mess quivering from the forest's cruelty.

You couldn't care less.

The birds overhead guffawed at your efforts as splotches of pale moon danced mockingly, titillatingly along the cold earth. You chased every moon patch with the frenzy of an escaped convict a morning away from freedom.

Because that's what you were, really.

The beginnings and ends of thoughts knotted and frayed into each other, flurrying your head into a cohesive garble. Just how big was this forest? It looked like a sprawling mess from the fortress you were locked up in, but it was absolutely impenetrable now that you were in the thick of it. It was as if the very woods were enchanted to keep you from ever escaping.

A ring of pain hooked the topside of your foot, propelling all of your momentum downwards and towards the forest floor. You couldn't even scream before you bashed your cheek through a thin layer of crusted mud. The cold soil caked your flushed cheeks--the only shred of relief you've felt since your mad sprint to freedom.

Your spine slinked up into a curl--a pathetic attempt to get up, to begin your chase again, but your battered body refused to endure further abuse. (E/C) eyes flitted about you, trying to interpret the shadows that danced and weaved through the trees.

Running in this state would be pointless. You dug your forearms and elbows to crawl towards an ivy overhang that promised hidden refuge and curled into as tight of a ball you could muster. The silky white dress he gifted you had been ripped past recognition. The airy fabric that once brushed your ankles now clung tightly to your blood-laced thighs, soiled from the toils of flight. You pulled your legs closer; your lungs fought for precious breath against your pounding heart.

What a shame. If only it weren't beating so fast, you might have heard the crack of a single twig located too close for comfort.

From several paces into the unseen was a pair of blue eyes misted over with sinful hunger; your quivering, shorn form was scintillating to watch and feasted his mind with imaginations more heart-racing than the last. Your blood, sweat, and tears mixing with your natural scent proved to be the most tantalizing olfactory cocktail, scattering his thoughts into overdrive.

He hated the rush he got from seeing you like this--lost and confused without his guidance through these nested thorns, yearning for warmth and safety he knew he could provide (and had been providing since you stumbled into his castle that fateful day).

Why did you leave him? Was he not enough for you? But he'd given you everything! Everything! Freshly made home-cooked meals, tailored clothes that hugged your form, a bed warmed by him, his body...

He could still feel the soft plush of your flesh sinking and dimpling in his hands as he thrust into you with the faux tenderness of a starved man. Your beautiful eyes locked with his own, only leaving to disappear into the back of your head. Your mouth agape to let the cutest sounds escape...

If you were happy with him, why were you leaving him?

Not waking up to your face smooshed into his pillows, not beholding you in all the pretty silk and ribbons he had lying around, not fucking you in every position you could possibly think of, not spending every waking moment with you...

Why, he'd rather die.

If it made you happy, he'd allow the ambrosial drippings of freedom to bead your lips.

If it made you happy, he'd let you delude yourself into thinking you were far enough from the castle to be away from him.

But only for now. Link prided himself on his chivalry and patience, but even that was growing thin from your incessant attempts of escape. He was going to have to show you why it was such a good idea to stay here with him, forever and ever and ever.

You were nodding off now, it seemed. The way your head kept dipping and rising in a futile attempt to stay wary was so adorable, he just had to ravish you right then and there! He had barely managed to stave off his intrusive thoughts as he stalked closer to you, still clinging closely to the dark cloak that hung off twisted branches.

You saw something shift from the corner of your eye; your neck snapped up and a croak clawed out of you.

"Who's there?!"

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Why was it so quiet?

Had it always been so quiet?

Where have the birds gone?

A familiar silhouette emerged from the trees.

"L-... Link..." Your throat, parched and scratched from heaving the cold night air, rang a voice unfamiliar to you.

Azure eyes that once beheld you with all the love in the world now stare back with deadpan coldness. Words need not be exchanged here; his presence alone blew any hope of escape in the next breeze that ruffled his fur.

A calculated step towards you retreated you further into your little alcove, a prayer that the ivy could take you in as one of its own on your lips. There was no telling what he was thinking, or how close to the edge he was. But that look, that hunger.

That familiar, craved look your body knew too well pulsed anxious tingles through your fingertips.

Another step.

Then another.

Another.

Finally,

He was here.

You could feel him, all of him--his hot breath against your arms, his fur bristling against your thigh, his warmth freezing your blood where it ran. You hadn't realized how much you were shaking until you heard the rhythmic shifting of ivy buzzing into your ear.

He pressed his head into your lap, prying you open to make way for him. And you sat there, obeying him like the perfect little doe you were. As he lazily dragged a tongue across your thigh, lapping at the dried blood that crusted your flesh, he looked up. Relief, adoration, love. That stifling comforting, possessive protective obsession love that he had so readily wrapped you in the moment he met you. For a moment, he looked like a lamb in wolf's clothing.

So many thoughts swirled inside you, your brain numbing to prevent overstimulation. But amongst the chaos, a single thought backdropped every complicated emotion you were feeling.

He had found you.

Had it not been for the blood drumming through your ears and temples, you would have thought time had frozen in this purgative state. He was splayed atop you now, seeming to rest from his hours-long stalking; he wasn't crushing you, but it was clear he had all the control in this dynamic. Any undesirable shift away from him, to preserve your own personhood, would most certainly have led to a 'gentle' nudge toward him.

A single cobalt eye lazily cracked open after a million years ticked by. His piercing gaze, though fringed with some life, made it abundantly clear that your race to freedom was placed at an indefinite standstill. He had never once snapped at you, but the fear lodged in your chest informed you not to test him further.

He hauled himself up, joints locked from inactivity popping to life as he arched into a long stretch. His carefree pose hinted at obliviousness--borderline forgiveness--to your impertinence, but you knew better.

Link never forgets.

He eyed you again with a sort of child-like excitement that twisted your gut into a sickening pattern. His tail arced to and fro, painting his excitement in broad strokes. He wedged his snout between the small of your back and the wall and firmly pushed you forward, scooting you a couple inches toward your prison home.

You knew better than to anger him.

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Link's skillful navigation through the thorns was unimpeded by your clinging onto him. It had taken hours to get to where you once were, but a quarter of that time for the wolf. The gloomy castle you had called your home for months (years?) broadened into view until you could clearly see its spires puncture through occasional clouds. The moon, basking in its celestial sovereignty, jeered at your return.

Link slipped through a tiny crack in the iron-clad door, made by the wolf confident in its tracking and retrieving abilities. You slugged off him with practiced movements; a sound akin to obscene magic asundering flesh preluded your captor's transformation. Grisly black fur gave way to sand-blonde hair; the worn, patchwork shirt which heralded his humble beginnings as a rancher ran taut against the back you had spent several minutes clambering onto.

He continued looking ahead unblinkingly as you idled a few paces behind him, your chest constricting and mind frenzying with murky anticipation. Your nerves, frayed from adrenaline and brain-altering fear, now swam in the heavy nothingness of silence; you were a breath away from weeping before a tenor tone disturbed the still.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

Silently, you both moved through the halls, paying the torchlit shadows the special type of attention one gave to the mundane in moments choked with awkwardness. Worn, freshly torn hands bunched the hem of your dress until your knuckles whitened. A part of you wished to never reach your destination, preferring thickened stillness over the unpredictable inevitable. You rounded a familiar corner and gathered the shreds of your sanity to brace yourself for whatever may come.

The sullen wooden door gave way to the man's heave and you followed him in. A large bathroom decorated only with the essentials filled your view. As Link ran the faucet, your eyes absently glazed over the rickety plumbing he had installed to transport hot spring water to the tub. For the first time since his transformation, he turned to you.

"Strip."

His clear, authoritative tone cut sharper than any thorn that had shredded you. Eyes downcast, your fingers wrought the straps of your dress further, further down your shoulders. Your skin burned from your clammy fingers; you blamed it on the steam that had begun filling the corners of the room and ignored the heavy, heated stare placed on you by the male.

Link followed your dawdling, hooking his fingers under the hem of his shirt and lifting it to reveal a stomach sculpted by years of farm work and adventuring. The straps of your dress coiled close to your elbows before settling by your ankles. Your hands immediately scattered to cover your exposed parts as Link finished undressing himself, his fully erect length blurred by warm mists and (eventually) a deftly wrapped towel.

He reached over to squeak the faucet shut; the comforting, monotonous lull of running water now halted to scant droplets. After pulling out the small basket of rags and soap, he sat on a bar stool and beckoned you with a lone finger.

"Come here. You're filthy."

You shuffled out of the shredded dress and forward, keeping your eyes trained on the end of the tub where he sat.  The wanton desire for a hot bath waived your concerns over the situation, dulling your fears enough to throw a leg over the edge and sink everything but the top half of your face below the water.

The warm panacea cloaked you in an elixir of ease, and a satisfied groan unintentionally lapsed your lips; your hand figuratively slapped over your mouth when the air honeyed into something...

Sinful.

Link dipped a small bucket into the bathwater and slowly poured it over your head, calloused fingers expertly combing through knotted, crusted strands. The hardened skin tenderly brushing the back of your neck jolted heated memories to the forefront of your mind.

You could still feel the harsh, almost desperate grip laced in your hair as he pounded you from behind, panting sweet promises to give you more for the rest of your lives. Your face, buried in his pillows, blindly nodded along to the specifics of what he had said, your mind too blurred to focus on much else aside from your umpteenth high of the night.

The warm water felt like a cold deluge and a noticeable shiver ran through you. Soapy hands stopped caressing your scalp.

"(F/N)?"

"H-Huh?"

"How about we play a little game?" Link murmured suddenly, absently twirling your locks in his fingertips. Had it not been for the taut fingers interweaved through your hair, your surprise would have been more apparent.

"What... What game?"

"A little game similar to hide-n-seek." He started languidly, as if savoring every vowel that lisped his tongue. "If you can evade my capture until dawn, I will guide you to the forest's edge so you may leave. However..."

Rough fingerpads traced up the side of your bicep as darkened ears caught your quiet, involuntary gasp.

"If I catch you... You're mine. Deal?"

Throat tightening and heart palpitating, your mind fought to keep its last ounce of calm as your captor's hand circled to your front to cusp and knead your--

"What's the catch?" You breathed, somehow managing to divert your attention away from Link's sinful reaches.

"There is no catch, but there are rules." He pecked your cheek, his lips curving into a soft smile that thinly veiled iller intents.

"You are allowed to hide anywhere in the castle grounds and use whatever means necessary to hide from me, so long as neither of us gets seriously injured... The moment you step foot in that forest, I will claim you where you stand. Is that fair?"

Was this a trick?

A sick joke meant to dangle tonight's failure in your face?

Surely it was... But what if it wasn't?

His steady stare that peered shamelessly through your soul conveyed a degree of seriousness and sincerity required to make a truthful statement.

"How do I know that you won't go back on your word?"

"I have never lied to you." He gritted his teeth. "Can you say the same?"

The genuine hurt masking his eyes ached your chest, but the tiniest shred of dignity you had left netted the apology that almost escaped your mouth.

"Is there anything else I should know before I make my decision?"

"No. I have told you everything you need to know and will uphold my end of the deal. The final decision is yours."

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Moonlight masqueraded through the gaping windows, streaking drab grey pillars with hints of alabaster. The halls which you have called home for what felt like time immemorial now crowded your vision with a foreign bite, sinking into your flesh an unnerving uncertainty around every corner.

Your neck swiveled on all axes, one eye trained in front of you and the other separating the benign from foe that hid in every dancing shadow. Bare feet pattering against olden stone filled the gaps in between each racing heart beat, drumming your ears in a never-ending symphony of chase.

Legs aching, quaking, begging for proper rest are promptly ignored, outcompeted by the more urgent matter at hand.

Your final gambit for freedom.

You cursed under your breath as you ascended a spiraling staircase, your lungs burning with the rage of a thousand suns from heaving in the cold, arid air. The stone floor kissed knicks into the soles of your feet as you skidded around a corner and madly dashed down the hall, shifting down a narrow crawlspace that branched off from the main hall.

Whispered hisses and curses bounced off the tightening walls as rough-hewn stone jagged into your skin, reopening recently closed wounds from the brambles. You could only pray that Link was far enough away to not pick up on freshly streaked blood.

A familiar carpet--the one from the main hall--filled your view and you slowed your shimmying into a momentary pause. You fought to see through your grimace to peer around the corner and hoped that your heart wasn't beating loud enough to mask the signs of your stalker.

All good...?

You scooted out of that uncomfortable position and ducked towards the exit.

The private gardens opened up to you. Trails of ivy found residence in the cracked grey of decayed walls and the fountain was spewing the most delicious water your parched throat had ever seen. You circled the mini courtyard, your frenzied mind shunting the garden's haunting aesthetics in search of a practical hiding place. To your right was the more open space of the main courtyard, and to your left were the untrimmed topiaries of Hyrulian heroes commemorated only in flora.

Streaks of morning were just beginning to tip the horizon.

Your feet teetered toward the right, but a certain non-human shadow slinked past the threshold. All color drained from your pallor as you scurried around the topiary's wide base and hid behind the cloister's stone pillar. The sounds of flesh ripping and reanimating shot through the air; tears began to freely flow as a carefree whistle ambled closer to you.

"My, my... It's almost daybreak. I must find my beloved soon, or else I'll lose her forever."

The sky was just beginning to tinge a magenta-red.

"Is she... Hiding by the door?"

Boots clicking against stone rang like a departed's dirges. Your clammy fingers dug into the side of your face--a feeble attempt to muffle your whimpering.

"Is she... Behind these topiaries? No? Hm... But I'm getting close, aren't I, (F/N)?"

All strength, all hope, had been sapped from your body; your knees locked and buckled.

"Oh? Have we always had a little walkway back here? What a wonderful surprise! I know my darling would love it here."

Your vision darkened.

Leather nestled softly into your face as the heat of another poured and mingled with the cold stone pressed to your back.

"Guess who?" He sang.

You felt all your muscles simultaneously release their tension; your legs folded in on themselves, but secure arms hooked them under and hoisted you bridal style.

As you were carted inside the dark fortress, the morning sun greeted you in its soft-rayed glory.

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

The stale castle air flooded your lungs as your body was unceremoniously tossed onto the bed. A hand tightened around your wrists and hot, agitated lips locked with yours before your brain could register the cotton plush of your sheets. His other hand feathered up your thigh, learned fingers grazing all your tender spots and teasing your thoughts into a foggy mix of want.

Your figure writhed uselessly under him as he flattened you further into the bed, using his full weight to keep you pinned where he wanted. The hand that carried out its sinful ministrations below shot up to seize your cheeks. Rough fingerpads bruised the softer flesh as he craned your neck to make way for his lips, flushed with a feral red and coated with soft proclamations of domination.

"You're mine... All mine..."

Hot breaths ghosted the surface of your neck, tickling a heated whine out of you. Your needy noises hitched into a gasp when you felt moistened lips lock onto your skin, suckling and teething the flesh into discolored patches. Rich vermilion fringed with a sinful violet bloomed below your jawline, trailing down and darkening with each claim closer to your chest.

He yanked the noisome dress down, exposing all of your chest to him. The snaps of cloth ripping from its handles and the sudden whip of cold air across your most sensitive parts pierced a jolt through your body. He pulled away to admire the shades of purple and red marring your fair complexion, a visual reminder to the dust haunting old halls and courtyards lost to time that you were his, and his alone. A lone tongue swirled around an irritated bud.

Trembles quaked through you--from heated anticipation or disgust, you were unsure. He hooked his fingers back into your cheeks and pried your face to look into his own. Sky-blue eyes, which once beheld you in crinkled happiness, had dimmed into a hazy navy clouded with lust.

"So pretty... My gorgeous, gorgeous girl."

Soft lips brushed your forehead, ambled down to your nose, and finally settled on your lips.

"My good girl."

Lips warmed with depraved whispers silenced around your bud. Starved suckling backdropped the more apparent whimpers scratching your throat, dredged in pleasure with a dulling edge of resistance. Scarred skin delicately cusped your mounds, tweaking and flicking your perkiness until it was a rosy red.

Your growing sensitivity stung tears into your eyes. Achy hands, now free from his grasp, grappled onto sinewy shoulders but did little to convey genuine discomfort. A deep groan purred from his chest as Link balanced your sore bud in a soft knead between his teeth. A pop filled the room.

"Let me see those eyes."

Your eyes wedged open to see blown-out blues taking all of you in. Your heart pounded a flush into your cheeks and christened an unholy flame to spread through your core.

"That's it... Now watch me..."

He dragged his body lower and lower, his eyes unwavering from yours for even a second. Steady hands balled into the collar of your dress and tore through the silk, the symphony of rips bouncing off the walls and knocking coherence out of your head. His lips matched the pace of the ragged unveiling and chased progressively exposed flesh with soft kisses, down, down, and farther down. Feverish breaths along your inner thighs sent chills up your spine.

"Watch me as I make you cum for me."

Hands gnarled from knighthood knotted into the delicate lace separating him from his prize, tearing it apart with ease.

"Link, hold--ah!"

Your eyes shot to the back of your head as your mouth gaped into a silent 'O.' An orchestra of colors, conducted by a madly indulgent maestro, symphonized into a crazed, otherworldly experience. His tongue coiled and stretched into you with the practiced precision of many amorous nights while his thumb circled the space around your clit, teasing the nub until agony. It was only a matter of time before your impassioned gasps and pleas competed with the downright sinful wetness Link lapped below.

"Tell me you love this--that you love me."

"Link, please! Just give it to me please, please, please...!" The top of your head rolled further into your pillow when the painful prick of a pinch shot too much for too short a time.

"Don't look away. Don't you dare look away, you filthy slut." Deft fingers plunged into you until pleasure fried your brain. "You'll cum when I tell you to."

Your whines and whimpers hiccuped into full sobs for release, whistled with pleas and promises you both knew you wouldn't keep.

"You'll love me forever, right? You'll be my good lil' cock slut forever, right?"

"Yes! Yes, I promise! Please Link, just let me cum already, please!"

You damn liar.

He pulled away, coldly gazing at the weeping, quivering, gasping mess of his beloved.

"Link...? W-why did you--"

"Your heart may have forgotten, but your body remembers..."

His sweet lips, tinted with a hint of bitter longing, moved with yours in a desperate, crazed dance. Every lust-filled, haggard groan ripped from his lungs masked the quieter crack running up his heart.

The bed creaked from the sudden redistribution of your weight as he spread you on all fours. He aligned himself to your entrance and, in a single motion that he had done hundreds of times, completed you. A wail, colored in pleasure and streaked with pain, contrasted Link's blissed-out groan. Tears brimmed the corner of your eyes; each droplet slipped down your cheek in time with his frenetic pounding until it had thickened into a steady stream.

He wasted no time in his pursuit for pleasure, hitching his pelvis to your ass, pulling away, and slamming back in with the gentleness of a starved wolf ripping into a lamb. His fingers dug crescents into your hips as he adjusted himself, propping one of his legs up to angle himself deeper and faster into you.

He was stretching you past your limits, and every thrust was accompanied by a heated flash of pain. Your upper half sunk towards the bed as he moved your hips higher, closer to him. Helpless (E/C)s stared at the creaking bedpost while your whitening knuckles dug through the sheets clumped in your hands. A salty mixture of tears and saliva pooled on your pillow as honeyed cries haunted your walls.

"What, is my princess not having a good time?" He jeered, reaching over to give your engorged clit a cruel flick and your ass an even crueler slap. "What does my baby want me to do to her? Huh? What do you want me to do to your tight pussy?"

"L-Link, It hurts! It's too--!"

The side of your quivering hips slammed into the mattress and forced you on your back. Your face snapped into the pillow when his writhing tongue replaced his thick cock, tonguing and lapping at your dripping pussy as if your ambrosia would be the last thing he was to taste. He pulled out and spat on your entrance, pressing his tongue flat against your pussy and swiping up towards the clit that he coiled.

"Mmph... Fuck, I love you... Give me more... Gods, give me more."

A bruising ache pressed into your hips as his frenzied circling spurred faster, faster, faster. Pleasure dizzied your senses towards a dark void; the familiar knot in your stomach that ached to unravel popped with the abrupt re-emergence of Link.

"Mm, tight as ever... How're you feeling, my dove?" He husked, ragged breaths encapsulating the shell of your ear.

"Too b-bi--Link, you're too big!"

"Shhh... You can take it. You've taken it hundreds of times. C'mon, squeeze my cock like a good girl."

"It's so--Link, you're stretching me out, I need to--"

"Not yet. I'm not done fucking you yet." He swiveled you back on all fours and pounded you into the mattress, your cries and pleas be damned. Slender fingers snarled through your tresses and strained you away from the pillows that held your screams.

"When I'm ready, I want to watch you cum all over my cock." His erratic pounding slowed for a split second, enough time for a certain thought to come and go. "I want you to see it too."

Your abused cunt finally had a moment to breathe and process; if only your brain had that same luxury.

The bed sighed a relieved groan as Link crawled out and wrapped his arms about your lower abdomen to hoist you up. When it was evident that this pathetically limp curl was the best you could do, toned forearms hooked under your knees and spread your legs in the most vulnerable position you've ever been in. With a huff, Link brought you front and center to the mirror. You both watched breathlessly as he lowered you onto his slicked cock, sinking every inch into your gummy walls.

"Fuck, you're so tight... I need you, (F/N)..."

His crazed pistoning began once more; the sensations that ransacked your body were unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. The tip of his cock so easily, so effortlessly rammed into your sweetest spots; every thrust he slammed into you turned you into a shamelessly shaking, overstimulated mess.

"Look at you," he hummed darkly, "look at all the sin running down your legs."

Link's voice was so far away now. The way he kept disappearing into your sopping cunt and your juices dribbling over your thighs consumed your every thought. The only tangible you could feel was the building pressure coiling in your gut, tightening with each passing second.

"So beautiful... So tight... Don't you want to do this forever? Hm? Don't you want to be ruined by me forever and ever?"

His teeth sunk into your neck, adding to the carnal collection and ripping a hoarse cry out of you.

"You're my good girl, aren't you? My good girl... You're all mine--all fucking mine."

Veins marbled his arms and forehead as he nuzzled into your neck, tongue tracing the edge of every bite. The labored grunts that occasionally wheezed out of him, along with his stuttering hips, signaled that he was teetering closer and closer to the edge. Hooded blues stared piercingly into your own, weighed down by mindless intoxication. His lips brushed a flame through the curve of your ear.

"Look at me..." He purred. "Look at me and confess your lust to me."

A shattered cry, followed by a wave of profane heat, collided with your system. Winced eyes lolled to the back of your head while you spasmed and twitched in still arms. Your violent clenching and knowledge of your release strained a guttural growl through Link's chest as he spurted his cum as deep as it could go. Thin, white threads coated your walls and trailed out your still-plugged hole until drips of sin stained the stone below.

Link tripped to the foot of the bed, his body folding into the sheets the second his foot made contact with the wooden post. With arms wrapped comfortably around you and the familiar presence of your spent lover, you passed out the moment your body recognized blissed finality.

As you commenced your near-immediate foray into the realm of dreams, a familiar voice--soft yet broken--rang through your last layer of consciousness.

"Sleep well, my dove. If eternally precarious possession is the closest thing we will ever have to love, I will gorge myself on it."

[sophswritingthings]

I Just binged your apothecary wife series (SO GOOD BTW) and hear me out

Mizu x reader, but reader is kinda similar in the sense that they pretend to be a man in public , OR fem presenting woman who knows how to fight. And basically them being a power couple

(Imagine reader has something like dual swords instead of a katana, or like something fun and cool) 👀👀

Also i want mizus gender so Bad

pairing: mizu x fem!warrior!reader

warning(s): swearing, blood, injury, uhhhh a little nsfw? I made it as sfw as I could with what my mind wanted to do 

a/n: dude. you guys are so SMART. and yes, I want mizu's gender as well. i already am having thoughts about fuckin next halloween 

summary: you had been mizu's dueling partner for years; and only recently had the two of you gotten together. you joined her on her quest to kill the three white men in japan. and you two are absolutely a power couple, ready to kick ass at all time—and your passion for one another grows day by day.

word count: 874 words / 4,710 characters 

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

mizu came back up from her fight, covered in blood; severed limbs scattered around her. and there you were, her lovely partner, on the other side of the fight.

you were also drenched in blood, your hair tied back and a flower (which she had given you) tucked in your hair splotched with blood. you were wielding two swords in either of your hands, smiling at her.

she walked over to you, each step concise and filled with purpose. she gave you a quick kiss on the lips, making you drop your weapons at your sides. she always found it cute how you let your guard down so much with her.

“you still manage to look so beautiful, even like this,” she murmurs against your lips, brushing a hand through your dark hair. 

“as are you,” you whisper, titling your head back to give her access to your neck. she takes the gesture happily, pressing soft kisses on your neck. it drew soft sighs and smiles from you.

“we need to get cleaned up.” she murmurs, dragging you down the cliff. you still wore a kimono, to which you tucked you swords under.

you still needed to be seen as a lady, to pass by. underneath that little facade was the ass kicking badass that mizu loved so much.

you stopped at the ocean, a small tide pool closed off by rocks. she was stood behind you, slowly removing your blood soaked kimono and dropping it to the sand.

you shivered as the cold wind brushed your skin. your partner was behind you, breathing in your presence, kissing and biting the skin of your neck.

it felt so damn good, little soft moans and sighs escaping your lips as she did so.

mizu chuckled against your neck, standing up straight. she pulled your hair down from its updo, doing the same with hers. she tugged off her own blood soaked clothes, taking your hand and leading you into the warm tide pool. 

you hummed, sitting in your partners lap, your forehead pressed against hers. her fingertips gently caressed your waist.

you were so beautiful, like this. so kind and gentle on the outside of the that fighting persona; so sweet, so beautiful.

you had gone from being so serene and sweet to pissing her off.

you splashed water into her face, giggling as you did so.

she wiped the water from her eyes, opening those gorgeous blue eyes with an unimpressed expression. she raised an eyebrow, only slightly.

“I will kill you.” she hissed the words, but there was no truth behind those words. you knew what she said was bullshit, an empty threat.

she’d never lay a finger on you, well, not in that way, at least.

“ah, uh-huh, sure you will, my darling,” you giggle, wading backwards through the pool. “I would like to see your attempt.”

her expression changed with a smirk across her face now, her hair dripping wet as it felt on her face. the sight was one to behold.

mizu waded under the shallow water, grabbing your ankles and dragging you under with her.

you let out a little squeak of surprise, laughing as the bubbles floated to the surface. 

the two of you popped up from the water again, your body now pinned against the rough rocks. her soaking wet body kept you pinned there; your wrists firmly in her hands.

you giggle, “how the tables turn, I see,” you murmur, gazing up at mizu with hungry eyes.

mizu didn’t say a word, brushing your hair behind your ear. 

“uh.. mizu..?” you were getting worried from your partners silence, gazing back at her. she typically had some stupid thing to say in these kinds of situations.. but here she was, silent as the wind. “I-is everything okay?”

“I love you.”

those three little words left her mouth. 

your eyes went wide, gazing back at her. she had never said anything like this, not to you, not to anyone. you weren’t sure she even said it to herself.

“I love you more than I think you could even phantom,” she whispered, leaning into the crook of your neck, kissing tenderly. her body pressed yours, drawing a soft moan right from your chest.

“I..” your voice trailed off, trying to return the passion in which your lover showed you. “I.. I love you too..”

you whispered the words. you were too wrapped up in the moment, with the ‘I love you’ and the way she were pressed up against you.

you could hear her whispering tiny little I love you’s in between passionate kisses. It was clear she meant it; and she was going to make that clear. wether it was with words or actions, it didn’t matter.

you loved her so much.

you would most likely follow her to the ends of the earth, if she asked. and you knew she would do the same for you.

you were devoted to one another. as partners, as lovers.

devoted to your love, to your passion. It wasn’t an obsession, a worship, one sided.   you were equally devoted to one another; and that was clear from miles away.

she would tell you she loved you to her very last breath. 

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

a/n: mizu is the person to get so devoted to her lover that she dies protecting them and I need that. I need it now

[multi-fandoms-posts]

Uninvited Guest

Just Wade ist Wade, i don't need to say more

X Men Masterlist

It’s a quiet afternoon in a small bar on the edge of town. Logan sits, as usual, at the counter, a half-empty beer in hand, when the door flies open with a loud bang. And of course, it’s Wade, barging in—loud, chaotic, and impossible to miss.

“Lo-gan!” Wade shouts with exaggerated emphasis as he storms into the bar. “My favorite mutant! How’s it going in love paradise?”

Logan rolls his eyes. “What do you want, Wade? I really don’t have the patience for your nonsense today.”

Wade ignores him and sits down right next to him, far too close for Logan’s liking. “Oh, nothing much, my best friend and role model! I just heard that you’ve got… how should I put it… someone special.” Wade grins widely and nudges Logan with his elbow.

Logan takes a sip of beer and says nothing.

“Oh, come on!” Wade continues. “I mean, Y/N? Really? So, she’s the one? I never thought the big, bad Wolverine would find a woman who could—what’s the saying?—‘tame’ him.”

Logan growls softly, glaring at Wade. “That’s none of your business, Wade.”

“Oh, but it is!” Wade counters, making an overly dramatic face. “You have no idea how much this touches my heart. The indestructible Logan… has a heart! And seriously—how gentle are you with her? Do you, like… hold hands?” Wade laughs loudly and claps his hands.

Logan remains silent, but his eyes glint dangerously.

“Or even better!” Wade’s eyes sparkle as he keeps going. “Do you give her little forehead kisses? Don’t tell me you’re the type to whisper ‘I love you’ before going to bed.” Wade rolls his eyes theatrically and makes a kissing gesture in the air. “Mwah, goodnight, bunny.”

Logan’s fist tightens around the beer glass, but he holds himself back.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Wade suddenly exclaims, as if something amazing just occurred to him. “You buy her flowers, don’t you? Come on, Logan, are you the type who buys roses with little notes? ‘For the most beautiful woman in the world’ or some romantic crap like that?”

“Wade,” Logan growls, “if you keep this up, I’m going to break every bone in your body.”

Wade’s grin only grows wider. “Yesss, that’s the Logan I know! But come on, you can’t fool me. You turn into a real teddy bear around her, don’t you? I mean, everyone sees it. You’re different when she’s around. You’ve probably even started talking in that deep, soft voice. Something like: ‘Y/N, darling, what do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll cook whatever you like!��” Wade tries to mimic Logan’s deep voice, laughing so loudly that the other patrons glance their way.

Logan releases the glass and turns to Wade. “I swear, Wade, if you say one more word, you’ll be carried out of here.”

“Ah, Logan, just relax!” Wade says cheerfully. “I bet Y/N makes you smile. She makes you soft. So soft that you” Wade pauses dramatically. “use your claws for something other than fighting, huh?”

That was too much. With a furious growl, Logan lunges at Wade, grabbing him by the collar as his claws snap out of his hands with a loud *snikt*. Wade raises his hands, but his grin remains unshaken.

“Whoa, hey! Easy, tiger. I’m just saying… do you use the claws in bed? Like… you know, for special moments? Maybe Y/N likes a little scratching? Or…” Wade looks curiously at the sharp claws. “…do you use them to tear the sheets when things get hot?”

Logan’s eyes blaze with fury, and he holds his claws dangerously close to Wade’s face. “One more word, Wade. Just one more, and I’ll make sure you’re sipping meals through a straw for weeks.”

Wade swallows, but his smile doesn’t waver. Logan lets him go and sits back down.

But Wade continues. “And when you’re home, you probably cook her a romantic dinner, huh? Play soft music, light candles, and then…” Wade pauses, giving Logan an exaggeratedly serious look. “Do you sing together? Tell me, Logan, what do you sing? *‘I Will Always Love You’*?”

Logan grabs Wade by the collar again, pulling him so close that their noses nearly touch. “One more word, Wade. Just one.”

Wade grins. “So you don’t like that? Okay, okay! I’ll stop. But come on! Deep down, you know I’m right. Y/N has changed you. You’re a whole different person now. Almost… human.”

Logan abruptly lets go of Wade. “You have no idea, Wade. No idea what Y/N means to me. So stop making your dumb jokes before I do something we’ll both regret.”

Wade sits back up and rubs his neck. “Wow, so protective. Romantic, Logan. Really romantic. But seriously aren’t you at least going to introduce me to her?”

“Never,” Logan says flatly. “As long as I’m breathing, you won’t get anywhere near her.”

Wade shrugs and stands up. “Alright, alright. But if you ever need couples therapy or some tips on how to keep a relationship exciting, you know where to find me.”

Logan rolls his eyes, sits back down, and reaches for his beer. “Get out, Wade.”

“Already on my way,” Wade says cheerfully, heading for the door. “But don’t forget, Logan: The next step is probably moving in together, right? Oh, or getting married! Wolverine in a suit—I’d love to see that!”

Wade looks back over his shoulder and calls out, “See you soon, lover boy!”

The door closes, and Logan shakes his head. “What did I ever do to deserve someone like him in my life?”

But deep down, he knows that, as annoying as Wade is, he doesn’t really mean any harm. Still, Wade will never meet Y/N. Not in a million years.

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.  

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.  

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”  

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink. 

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list. 

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.  

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.” 

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter. 

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms  across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart. 

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly? 

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.   

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist. 

Bliss. 

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag  Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.  

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip. 

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare. 

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.” 

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.  

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.  

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

 He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens. 

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.  

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.  

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine. 

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut. 

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon? 

It’s worth the mess.     

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener. 

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.  

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display. 

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.  

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor. 

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.  

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department. 

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down. 

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally. 

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.   

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.” 

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace. 

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.  

It always does the trick.

***

[muttplatinum]

uhm hi yes have some steve today

cw: steve's in love w u, m!insert, not proof read :')

the sound of water roars in your ears and bubbles fills your vision.

you screw your eyes shut again as you breach the surface, gasping. "steve harrington, i'm gonna kill you!" you yell, treading water and wiping the water from your face.

steve whoops and hollers as he jumps in after you, already shirtless and in some old shorts.

you splash back with another yell and he grabs at your legs on his way to resurface. you give him a glare. "you suck. i hate you."

"i could make a very dirty joke out of that," he informs you with a boyish grin. the water glistens in his eyelashes as he blinks it away and swipes his hair from his forehead, wading closer.

"ewwww, dirty, nasty boy jokes about blowies," you exclaim, nose wrinkled in mock disgust. "what are you, twelve?"

you've barely finished your sentence when your head is submerged again, steve dunking you with both hands clamped down on your shoulders.

holding your breath, you internally swear at him. his legs entangle with yours and you feel his hands grip your waist as he pulls the both of you up.

his bicep presses against your cheek as he reaches behind you and grabs the lip of the pool, anchoring you to the side. you wipe the water from your eyes once again, a frown on your lips.

you open your eyes to see steve already looking at you fondly, and your irritation ebbs almost instantly.

"stop, no, you're in trouble. you can't look at me like that," you complain, putting your hand on his face.

"wha-- like what?" steve laughs, trying to avoid your wet palm.

the hard concrete of the wall behind you distracts you for a second as steve shifts you both closer, your stomachs and everything below now pressed together underneath the water. orange stains the sky as the sun begins its descent, giving steve an almost halo as he waits for your response.

"like you're in love," you say, tone quiet, matter of fact, adoring.

his eyes narrow with mirth as he leans in to brush his lips to yours. "good. i am," he informs you.

you both smile as you kiss, mouths just a little chapped from the pool.

"just to clarify, i'm in love with you," he mumbles into it.

laughing, you toss you arms over his shoulders. "okay, thank you for clarification, stevie. i'm in love with you, too." you give him another kiss before you flutter your eyelashes with a smile. "mind helping me from the pool? it's a little cold."

steve takes on a serious look and gives you a curt nod before disappearing under the water. you look down, confused, before giving a shout of surprise as you're suddenly pushed upwards from the bottom, steve's hands propelling you up and onto the edge of the pool.

you stare at him in amused disbelief as he emerges, hair all wet once again and eyes shiny as he grins.

"i didn't think i would be able to do that. was it cool?"

once you've also coaxed him out of the pool with promises of cuddles, you both end up wrapped up in towels on the couch picking out movies.

"okay, but why do you have every friday the 13th to come out except the first? i feel like that's breaking some kind of rule," you chew at your cuticle as you read the synopsis of the second movie on the back.

steve hums and peeks over before giving a grimace. "don't ask me. my parents buy every new thing that does well. aren't there like, five of those movies?"

"six, actually. one's in theaters. you should take me," you grin, leaning over to press a loud kiss to his cheek.

his grimace deepens. "you just want me cowering and cuddling into you," he accuses playfully, plucking the film from your hand and getting it ready.

you laugh and settle in on the couch, making sure there's enough space under your arm for steve to fit. "what big, strong man wouldn't want you in his arms?" you tease.

he throws you a look over his shoulder and you snicker.

once the lights have been switched off and steve is safely tucked away into your side, he plays the movie.

you'd already seen it a hundred times before, so you focus on the feel of stevie's hair under your cheek and the way goosebumps raise on his skin every time you trail your fingers over his arm.

"cold?" you murmur, plucking at the damp towel around his shoulders.

he glances at you through long lashes and shifts closer, extending his chin to tuck his face just under your jaw. he gives the area a soft kiss. "if i said yes, would you cuddle me more?"

smiling, you squeeze him to you a little tighter and devote all your attention to covering his face in kisses.

steve splutters in surprise at first, but his hands come up to cup your face as you kiss him and his eyes flutter shut with a sigh.

he falls asleep like that, cheek smushed into your lips and nose, soft breaths barely audible over the sounds of the credits on screen and your heart hammering in your ears.

if you wake up sore and achey from the couch, it will have been worth it.

[seokmingiggles]

sleepytime herbal tea.

Prompt: "How about something warm? It will help you sleep."

Pairing: Xu Minghao x gender neutral reader

Genre: fluff, mutual crushes, roommate!au, college!au.

1.65k words

No warnings.

Sometimes, you believe there’s something unspoken between you and your roommate. Sometimes, he’ll do little things for you or say little things to you that will make your heart warm like it’s a teabag brewing in a toasty cup of fragrant tea.

Alternatively, maybe Minghao is your human equivalent of a cup of tea: warming, calming, and all-around comforting—particularly at 3 am when the rest of the world is asleep.

A/N: What started with Minghao shall end with Minghao. (Just kidding! I’ve already written a second piece for some members! ^^)

Back to the teacup masterlist.

•• "Oh, hey. What are you still doing awake?"

Minghao looks up from his novel to see you making your way into the kitchen. You're wearing the pair of slippers he got you for your birthday; the shuffling sound scampers across the apartment's wooden floor. Your hair is messy, going in every which direction, and your eyelids droop heavily. Your eyebrows furrow slightly.

"What time is it?" his expression is confused, lips gently pouting as he rubs his eyes with his free hand, the other one acting as a makeshift bookmark between the pages of his novel.

You glance at the clock on the microwave, "Just past three in the morning."

"No kidding," he mutters, standing from his spot on the sofa to stretch out his limbs after remaining in the same curled-up position for hours. The boy creases the top corner of his page, setting the book down on the couch's armrest. "What are you still doing awake?"

"I couldn't fall asleep," is your answer. You frown, "I was just lying there until my mouth got dry. But when I reached over for my glass of water, I realized it was empty."

Minghao hums, knowing the all-too-familiar feeling. "How about something warm? It will help you sleep," he says as he wades over to the kitchen, ending up by your side. He reaches up into the wooden cabinet above your head, "I like this one. You're welcome to try it tonight."

With a short hum, the boy presents his favourite herbal tea in the adorable little box: the brown bear clad in pyjamas and sat by a fireplace in its comfy armchair.

You set your empty glass on the kitchen counter and take the thin cardboard box in your hands. "Your sleepytime tea? I thought this one is off-limits."

Minghao shrugs, a gentle smile forming on his face in the dim lighting, "It normally is, but this seems like a special occasion."

"Us—both being awake at three in the morning with classes later today—is a special occasion?"

"Don't make me change my mind, (Y/N). Here," he grabs a pair of mugs from the dish-rack by the sink, "I'm going to have some too."

Minghao moves to fill the kettle with water and places it on its base, adjusting the setting on the side with a shrill beep at its programmed start.

You fiddle with the handle of the ceramic mug, trying to distract yourself from your roommate's delicate features in the faint light sourced only from the oven range hood and the moon outside the far window in the living room.

"What were you reading?" you ask him, still fixated on the countertop. "It must have been good if you lost track of time."

The boy nods with a hum. "One of my friends recommended it to me a little while ago—the one in my literature class. I haven't had the time to read it until tonight—or last night, I suppose—but I must be a third of the way in already. Maybe even half-way by now."

"What's it about?" you nonchalantly question, continuing the conversation while keeping your eyes low.

Minghao's ears begin to burn. "Ah, nothing in particular," he softly clears his throat. "Just a slowly-building love story between a couple of childhood friends. But," he adds quickly, "it's quite contemplative and poetic."

"A romance novel?" your eyes eventually meet his. "I wouldn't have taken you for someone who enjoys reading love stories, Hao," you can't help the playful smile that wiggles onto your lips.

The kettle's signal is high-pitched as the water reaches its desired temperature, giving Minghao a reason to pull his eyes from yours. He pours water into both of the mugs, allowing a few centimetres from the rim. You watch the rising steam as it tickles the bottom of your roommate's circular glasses when he leans over the counter to place the kettle back on its stand.

"It can be fun to read stories about a picture-perfect relationship sometimes," the boy continues. "Novels are the only forms of romances so pure and heartfelt. They're carefree, too," Minghao says in a hushed tone. "It makes me wonder why real-life isn't the same way."

You're now fiddling with the hem of your shirt when you whisper, "It could be."

Minghao looks up from his gaze on the teacups. He swears he sees a twinkle in your eye when you follow his movement to meet his stare.

"Relationships in real-life can be sincere and passionate too," you continue with a low voice to maintain the quiet three o'clock atmosphere. "Maybe not in the ideal way fiction can depict them to be, but that's what makes them real. It makes them human."

"Since when are you such a philosopher of romance," Minghao chuckles.

"At three in the morning, Hao, anything is possible."

"Anything, huh?" the boy smiles and nudges one of the mugs closer to you across the kitchen counter.

You softly thank him and take the cup in your hands. Your eyes focus on the teabag spinning in lazy circles, a solo slow dance on the surface of the hot water.

"Let's go sit down to drink our tea," you hear Minghao say as he begins to walk back to the couch.

You let him lead you, following behind in his shadow.

It's times like these where you aren't sure how close you should sit next to him. You sometimes wish you could curl up against his side and feel him hold you tightly in return, or even being able to rest your legs overtop his lap with his hand on your thigh.

Tonight, though, you take a seat at a respectful distance from the boy: about a couch cushion's length away.

Minghao rests his head on the sofa's backing, eyes trailing upwards to the speckled ceiling displaying the moving pictures of shadows from the foliage projected by the moon and streetlights outside.

"If you could have the perfect relationship, would you?"

Your eyes search for Minghao's once you hear his question, but he remains to look upwards and away from you.

You hesitate momentarily before saying, "No."

Minghao lowers his gaze and takes a sip of tea. He finally peers at you. "You wouldn't?"

You shake your head. "No. Because although disagreements and turmoil can be difficult to deal with, without either of them results in a relationship that won't grow," you take a small sip of your steaming tea. "If nothing else in life is perfect, then why should a relationship be that way?"

"Nothing's perfect, huh?" Minghao traces your facial features, trailing along the bridge of your nose and lingering at the dimple of your cupid's bow, but stopping himself before his gaze reaches the plush of your lips. He suddenly returns to your eyes, "But you have a point. Perhaps perfect relationships should stay within the pages of novels and works of fiction."

The wind rustles the tree branches nearby, and you find yourself bearing a small smile at Minghao's words. His gentle voice, combined with the warm mug of herbal tea in your hands, makes you lean deeper into the couch and pillows. Your eyelids suddenly feel heavier.

"I could lend you the book after I finish it if you'd like," the boy asks, turning his head to the side to gauge your reaction. But upon looking at you, he takes in the sight of your closed eyes with your head pressed against the couch backing, all while still sitting up.

Minghao's heart warms at the image. The boy drinks the remains from his cup before standing and moving to your side. He quietly places his mug on the table in front of him before slowly taking yours, still clutched between your hands, and setting your cup next to his on the coffee table. Your palms and fingers radiate the tea's warmth—his touch lingers.

"And you didn't even finish your tea," he whispers to no one, shaking his head with a smile.

He looks at you fondly before gently maneuvering your body to lie you down. Minghao gathers the blanket draped over the side of the couch and places it overtop of your body. He takes extra care to make sure it reaches all the way up to your chin but also without your toes peeking out from the bottom.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he speaks softly, carefully moving some stray hairs that have fallen onto your face.

Seeing you nuzzle into the soft blanket in your sleep nearly makes him coo at your cuteness.

An image pops into Minghao's head: he can picture himself leaning down, delicately kissing your forehead while his hand gingerly grazes the side of your face, thumb tracing the high of your cheekbone; he can feel your warmth radiate through his fingertips. He can feel your smile as it spreads across your cheeks. He can see your eyelashes flutter open and your eyes crinkling with your grin when you notice his proximity, your hand reaching up to thread into his hair when he leans in, and you close your eyes all over again–

But instead, Minghao decides he'll wait until you're awake so he can kiss you properly for the first time. He's not sure when it will happen—it could be this week or this month, perhaps when you're done with your semesters. It could be later today. It could be a year from now.

It may not ever happen for all the boy knows; what even are the odds that you return his feelings?

Minghao takes one last admiring look at you before he stands and retreats to his bedroom for a long-awaited sleep, collecting his novel from the edge of the couch on his way.

A pair of mugs remain on the coffee table—one entirely empty, one nearly full, but both belonging to hidden romantics. Buried feelings brew beneath the surface, steeping like the gradually darkening herbal tea.

••

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

O’Donnell’s Test

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cassandra ‘Cassie’ Wade (Original Character)

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: T - Teen

Warnings: References to sex, swearing,

Summary: It’s just his luck that on the morning of O’Donnell’s big test his van won’t start. Good thing he knows someone with a working car...and an ability to terrify Jason Carver

Notes: Cassie’s Design can be seen in the googledrive I have for her here

Feel free to draw/write for her if you want, just let me know. Any questions about her let me know, it’ll help me develop her more!

Takes place in Eddie’s third repeat of senior year in 1986. Cassie is 19, Eddie’s 20. Cassie has already graduated. 

Art is mine.

“Shit, shit, shit! C’mon!” It’s just his fucking luck, the year he’s trying not to be late for class, the year he’s actually trying to graduate and his fucking shitty piece of crap van won’t start on the morning of O’Donnell’s big test. He’d already woken up later than he’d expected too, had to rush to throw on some clothes and grab random junk for lunch, he did not have time to fix his fucking van. He needed to be on the road like 10 minutes ago.

Eddie slams his forehead into the steering wheel, jumping back in the seat when his horn blares out into the trailer park, heads peeking out of front doors, already glaring at him for disturbing the quiet this early in the morning.

“Fuck…” He grabs his lunch box from the passenger seat, yanking his keys free from the ignition and sliding out of the door, slamming it shut behind him. There’s no other choice really but to begin walking. He’s miles from school, knows he’ll miss the fucking test if he walks, but it’s either this or not go in at all, he hopes at least this way he might be able to convince O’Donnell to let him take the test another time, that he’d tried to be in on time, but the universe fucking hated him. He just wanted to fucking pass this year, finally wanted to see the back of Hawkins High. Not that the universe seemed to want him to. It was just his fucking luck, of course it'd be now that his stupid ass van decided to die on him.

“Fucking shitty ass piece of van, fucking O’Donnell setting a test first thing, fucking stupid fucking universe…” He’s muttering, kicking rocks as he goes, eyes down on the ground. He doesn’t notice the beaten up red Chevrolet rolling slowly up to him on the wrong side of the road until a window is rolled down and red lips call his name.

“Eddie?” Cassie’s leaning out the window of her car, blonde curls flying in her face as her brown eyes dart between him and the road despite the slow snail's pace with which she’s driving.

He stops and she does too.

“Need a ride?” She doesn’t go to Hawkins High anymore, graduated last year, while he got left behind, but she knows Eddie’s been trying this year, and she knows what he looks like when nothing is going quite right. Besides she’s got time before she needs to be in her lecture on ‘Great Feminist Writers’, always giving herself more time than she needs to get anywhere. Eddie’s organisational polar opposite as it were.

“You’re a fucking lifesaver, sweetheart.” The relief is palpable, his shoulders drop, his head leaning back as he feels like he can breathe for the first time. He could kiss her, would kiss her, if they weren’t just friends, if she wasn’t on the other side of a car door, if he wasn’t such a coward.

Eddie’s quick to get into her car and Cassie’s quick to get back onto the right side of the road, the soft sound of Kiss filters from the stereo, a familiar mixtape stuck inside the cassette player. He was still working on her next one, piecing it together bit by bit. “

So…?” She’s side-eyeing him. He looks flustered, if possible his hair looks even bigger and wilder than normal, big dark circles sit heavy under his eyes. He avoids look at her, rather uncharacteristic of Eddie, who usually gives her the most intense stares, the sort that make her feel like he can read her mind half the time. She's often very glad that he can't.

“Fucking van died…O’Donnell set a test first thing…can’t be late, really need to fucking pass it..”

"This the one I helped you study for last week?” She’d taken to tutoring Eddie when she wasn’t at college or working on assignments or working at the arcade. It meant a lot of late nights for the both of them, her falling asleep more often than not on his bed and making her way back to the trailer she shared with her grandma in the mornings. She was only getting away with it because her grandma really liked Eddie, if she stayed round any other boy’s trailer she might well have had a death sentence.

“Mmhmm, the very same…” His knee is bouncing in the passenger seat, the old car basically rocking down the road in response. Cassie reaches a hand out, resting it on his knee, the bouncing calms a little. She turns her palm upwards and doesn’t say a word when he slips his hand in hers, fingers interlocking with her own and squeezes three times. She doesn’t let go of his hand, even when she changes gears, just uses the sides of their palms to shift the gear stick into the correct spots. He’s worried, she knows just how tough O’Donnell’s class is and he needs to pass this year, he doesn’t want a fourth go at senior year, three was enough. He's been working so hard too, despite his previous laissez faire attitude to schooling, he'd really bucked up, almost gave her a run for her money how hard he seemed to be working.

Her grip on his hand stays through the whole journey. They pull up outside the school with time to spare, in fact a whole 15 minutes before the bell was set to ring, thanks to a few familiar shortcuts that Cassie took. She tugs on his hand, turning in her seat to lean towards him. For the first time since Eddie got into her car, he looks her in the eye, worry swimming deep in those brown pools and she tugs him a little closer still.

“You’re going to do great. We did that practice test, remember? The one O’Donnell set me last year? You passed it. You can pass the real thing. You can do this.” She knows he can do it, knows he has it in him, knows he’s worked hard…but there’s only so many failed tests and failed seniors years you can take before you start to believe you’re not capable, that you're just an idiot, just worthless and stupid.

“What if I fail?” He’s so quiet, not like the Eddie she’s used to. Not loud and brash and ostentatious, just quiet as he tightens his grip on her hand and bounces his legs with anxious energy.

“Then…then i’ll storm into O’Donnell’s class and demand she give you extra-credit to make up the grade, i’ll show her the practice paper, I’ll..I’ll…” There’s a furrow in her brow that shifts her glasses as her nose crinkles in thought, “I’ll fight O’Donnell if I have to.”

“You gonna go to jail for me, princess?” It’s silly enough to have him smiling, her goal in the end, because they both know she’s not fighting her old high school teacher, but she knows she won’t have to. He’s going to pass.

“If you’re nice to me.” Eddie wonders if Cassie knows that when she smiles wide like that her cheeks bulge and her dimples come out? He often wonders if she realises how pretty she is…he’s pretty sure she’s been the prettiest girl he's known since sophomore year. Stupid it took him that long to notice it when he’s known her their whole lives.

“I’m always nice to you, I bought you pizza last week.”

“Mmm, yeah, you did.” She smiles wider at the memory, pizza and the latest slasher flick that she could barely watch, too busy cowering into Eddie’s shoulder, ever the horror movie wimp.

There’s a brief pause before she leans forward and for a brief moment, panic fills Eddie’s lungs as he thinks she might just kiss him, and he is so not prepared for that, no amount of daydreaming could prepare him for that. She doesn’t, much to his disappointment and slight relief, lips landing on his forehead in a reassuring gesture, her free hand cupping his cheek like he might just break. She’s the only person who’s ever been gentle with Eddie since his mom died, always tender, careful. She’s the only person who treats him like she fears he might get hurt rather than hoping, wishing to inflict it on him. Even the girls he’s slept with, the ones who hang around after Corroded Coffin stop playing or when they want to feel a little rebellious and get with the freak, they’re all sharp nails racking his back, teeth biting at his lip, harsh and rough, prepared, nay, eager to draw blood. Cassie’s never like that with him. All soft touches, the delicate drag of fingertips across his cheek, mindful of her nails, the careful press of lips to his forehead, cheek, a soft squeeze around his waist in greeting.

And her words? Her words are softer still, “You can do this, I believe in you, Eddie...”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He’s kind of speechless, not really sure how to respond to that because, fuck, she’s so sweet to him, so kind and so fucking pretty.

A banging on the top of the car, has them both jumping away from each other and Eddie’s smile drops the moment Jason Carver peeks his head in through the window with a sly grin. He wants to punch the younger man’s smug little face, tell him to piss off and let him get to his test, but he still has time till the bell rings and he can’t get suspended for fighting. Not again.

“Ohoho ohhh, the Freak’s got himself a little freak girlfriend?” It’s like he doesn’t really see Cassie, too busy winding up Eddie that when she peers around him to look at the jock he almost looks shocked. As if he didn’t know that Cassie Wade, prior valedictorian and good girl, was friends with Eddie Munson.

“Hello, Jason.” There’s a sickly sweet smile that Cassie gives the jock before it drops, cold taking over her face, eyes hardening.

“I used to babysit your sister? Cassie, remember me?” She waits for him to nod, a nervous sort of look on his face that Eddie isn’t used to seeing from Carver. Always so arrogant. The tone Cassie continues with is so casual that the words just don’t feel right, there’s some sort of disconnect that has Eddie in shock, “Do you think your mom would like to know about those porn mags underneath your bed? Or maybe she’d like to hear about how you drank so much at Brad’s party in freshman year that you threw up all over his mom’s new couch? Think she’d find that interesting?”

“C-cassie, hey! Didn’t…didn’t realise it was you…sorry.” There’s a palpable nervousness from Jason, to the point Eddie can almost see the comical sweat drop falling down his temple. The jock leans back away from the car, and Eddie can’t seem to understand how Cassie, his Cassie, sweet and kind, has Jason by the proverbial balls right now. It’s both scary and kinda hot.

“Can I make a suggestion, Jason, as a friend?” Eddie’s not even sure he’s breathing, afraid to even slightly interrupt the show that’s happening over his lap. Cassie’s all out glaring now, any pretence of a friendly conversation gone. “Leave Eddie the hell alone or every little dirty secret I know about you gets published in the school newspaper. You know Nancy Wheeler, right? Well, I happen to be decent friends with her and she’s always interested in the next big scoop. So, back. Off.”

“I was just messing around, Cassie, all a joke, right Munson? I...I have to...I have a test to get to..." He's inching back away from the car with every word, almost tripping over his feet to get away from the situation.

“See you later, Jason!” She’s sweet again as she waves him off, but a fake sort of sweet that’s almost sickly in its design. It drops the moment he’s far enough away and mutters something about Jason being a dickhead under her breath.

“Did…did that seriously just fucking happen?”

“Sorry…about that.” She’s kind of embarrassed at the thought that Eddie just watched her being kind of mean to Jason, it’s not her normal behaviour and she shys away from him, looking out the window at some of the familiar faces in years below her walking into school. It’s a hand on her wrist dragging her back that has her facing him again, an apologetic smile on her red lips.

“Sorry? Sorry? You just fucking annihalted Jason Carver, douchebag of the year. I could fucking kiss you! I…I mean you’re really fucking scary sometimes, hot, but scary.”

“You’re such a perv…” It’s said with humour, an old joke that’s been going since puberty hit and she found a dirty mag in his room. The sort of humour used to deflect from the reality that they’d been getting closer and closer to crossing the line between friends and something more as of late. That both of them had considered kissing the other far too many times in recent memory.

The moment is broken by the school bell ringing shrill and loud and Cassie smiles sadly at him, always sad to lose his company. She’s never happier than when she spends time with Eddie, silly how much of an effect he seemed to have on her emotions.

“You need to go…” There’s a pause before he’s sliding out of the car and leaning back through the window.

“Yeah…thanks, for the ride, Princess…”

“Anytime, Freak.”

“See ya, sweetheart.”

She watches him go, till she can’t see him anymore and crosses her fingers that he passes that test…and that Jason Carver leaves him the hell alone. Funny how even after she graduated she couldn’t seem to leave high school behind.

[impala1967dwinchester]

Dean Winchester: What's left behind

*Credit to gif owner*

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader

Pov: Deans

Warnings: Talking about past fights, including scars, Dean, Fluff, Dean!Fluff, laying in bed together, swearing, mentions of past smut, verging on implied smut, playfulness, Sassy reader.

Summary: Laying down with Y/n she starts to point out all my scars and tell her some stories I've not told anyone else.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is for band--psycho 1.5k followers Bingo Challenge. I'm so excited that I get to be a part of this writing bingo challenge.

Square- Scars

Masterlist

Taglist: @band--psycho @akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl @hit-meup69

Y/n had just showered and was getting ready for bed. We'd already been together for so long that it had turned into a traditional thing for the two of us.

Every time that Y/n showered and we were going to be in bed I'd give Y/n a shirt of mine and she wears just that and a pair of panties. Seeing as we were just going to bed. There wasn't a single night that we didn't do that cycle.

Y/n would grab the remote to the TV, and I could turn our bedroom overhead light off, turning on the side table light instead. Y/n would climb under the sheets of our bed, grab a book and throw the remote in my general direction.

I'd climb under the sheets., and flick through the man channels that we have. Before landing on the same stupid cartoons that I wasn't able to watch as a child seeing as I was taking care of Sam.

After a few episodes of cartoons, Y/n would put her book down along with her reading glasses and cuddle up with me. Ask me what we were watching. "We're watching scooby-doo. I think it's actually an older version of the cartoon." I said this time around.

She snuggled closer and draped her uncovered leg over my pajama pant leg. The pajamas always make her laugh. The ones that have hotdogs printed them. My shirt grazing over my bare chest.

This is how we fell asleep. Snuggled close to each other, our arms wrapped around each other in the most intimate, protective sort of way. This night was different though.

Y/n started to trace my light scars that covered my body. The ones from being stabbed, or shot during a hunt. Or just the simple more domestic ones like the cuts I get while I shave my jaw.

"What are you doing, sweetheart?" I asked her, truly wondering what had gotten into Y/n.

"You know, we do the same thing every night. I have seen you shirtless many times. In many different situations, and I've never asked you were certain scars come from. Talking about the ones that came before I was in your life, baby." Y/n said still tracing scar lines.

“You want me to describe my scars?” I asked her. A little confused as to what Y/n was asking me. “Yes, you goofy! What do you think I was asking?” Y/n said rolling her eyes and smirking at me.

“Okay, I get that. Pick a scar and I’ll try to tell you the story of said scar.” I noted.

Y/n grazed her fingers over my shoulder, down my forearm, around the side of my stomach, and then she abruptly turned me to my side. Tracing her hand down the back of my spine. Then Y/n turned me back around on my back. Pointing at the scar that was on my stomach.

It was a long slender cut. It was about midway down my stomach right above my belly button. “This one, Deanie. Tell me the story of this one.” Y/n voiced.

I had to think for a moment. Going back recalling the memories and fights of old hunts. “Let’s see this is a scar from about six years ago. Sam, and I were on a hunt to kill a Ruagru. It was down in South Carolina. The town was on the smaller side.”  I stated. I took a breath in and then let it go, and continued talking.

“The drive was nice, and it was during the summer. So, the three layers of clothes and long flannels needed to come off. This time around Sam and I only had one layers clothes on. We went ahead and did the research for the hunt. The town was losing many kids. The kids in the morgue had they had absolutely no blood in their bodies. That was odd for the small town to deal with.”

Y/n tapped my shoulder, “Is this story a long one?” She asked giggling. “Patience my dear child!” I said starting to tickle her sides. “TELL the story, Dean!” Y/n shrieked. “Okay, okay I’ll tell you the story.” I spoke.

“Sam eventually found out where the ruagru was staying. He found out like the little hacker he is by duh hacking into the tariff lights and such and tracking them down that way. It was of course an old barn, down an old torn up road deep in the woods. Like really, but whatever right. So, we grabbed our shit from the back of baby and got to work. Now let me set the stage for this hunt.”

Y/n hummed in a response for me to continue.

“The barn was old like I have already said, the outside was painted red, but it was so old that most of the paint had come off already. The inside was much different, it was fixed up and made to be livable I would assume. Sam and I snuck in through an open space near the doors of said barn. Sam had a Molotov cocktail, and I had a weapon that looked fucking awesome.”

I said with excitement flowing through my words. Y/n raised her eyebrows and shook her head. Like I was child who had just said the stupidest thing ever, but she doesn’t want me to know.

“It was just a demon killing knife, I bet.” Y/n said rolling her eyes.

“Hey, hey now don’t ruin my story now.” I spoke. Hushing her and continuing on telling my story.

“So yes, a demon killing knife is was I had. I walked in first being the over protective brother that I am. Sam behind me and ready to throw his Molotov cocktail. I was ready for anything if there was more than just one monster. When we finally found the ruagru I guess I must have startled them because they turned around and were in my face within seconds. Within seconds after that they had picked me and thrown me all the way through a wall. The old sherds of woods grazing past my stomach.”

“OH, ahhh!” Y/n said being a smartass.

“Don't be a smartass Y/n. Let me finish the story you so gracefully wanted.” I spoke.

She shrugged and bumped my shoulder with hers. Letting me continue telling my story.

“I didn’t realize until long after Sam and I had killed the ruagru was killed that I was bleeding through my shirt. Sam was actually the one to realize that I was bleeding. I was so mad when that shirt got ruined by the time, we were able to clean our clothes the next time. I ended up throwing away the shirt.” I said with a sad tone behind my voice.

“What was on the shirt?” Y/n said a worried expression on my face.

“You know to think about it now, I think it was an ac/dc shirt, or maybe an old guns and roses shirt that I had found in a local thrift shop at one point long ago. To be honest with you I hadn’t really thought about that since that moment.” I said shrugging my shoulders.

“Can we do one more, before we go to bed?”  Y/n asked me nuzzling up closer in to my chest. I wrapped my arm around her and roughly brought her as close as we could possibly be to each other.

“Sure baby, choose away!” I said, a yawn ending my sentence.

She looked around and ended up landing on the cut just underneath my jawline. She outlined it and then said; “What about this one?” Giving Y/n a rather confused expression I made sure that was the one she wanted next. “Are you sure? This one doesn’t really have a great story behind it.” I spoke.

“Duh you goof I realized that, but still, I want the story for this one.... PRETTY PLEASE!” Y/n said screaming the last part. I looked over at her, with my eyebrows raised far up on my forehead. She giggled when she looked up at me, “I’m right here sweetheart. There’s no need to scream!” I whispered. “Whatever you say grandpa.” Y/n came back with.

This time my mouth was wide open my eyebrows still far up on my forehead. I rolled my eyes and closed my mouth. “I’m just going to forget that statement and start my story.” I said, “So, this little scar is actually from when I shaved for our first date.” I said getting thought in thoughts about our first date.

Y/n wore a beautiful short red dress, paired with a pair flats. Y/n pretty much had no make-up on and wore her hair naturally. I took her not to a bar, but an actually four stared restaurants, not that far from the bunker. That night ended very much at the front of Y/n’s bedroom door.

But I remember as I went to walk back to my room. I was pulled by my wrist into Y/n’s plump lips. Now I’m not going to say kissing Y/n didn’t make me feel like a teenager all over again but that’s pretty much what it felt like.

That night we went slow mostly because I knew in that moment when Y/n pulled me into her lips that I wanted to be with her forever. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. That only made everything else feel more heightened.

I went slow with her, learning the curves of her body that night. I just listened to her body, I wasn’t trying to show off, or make her remember me. That was something we could do later, but in that moment, I just want to feel her and be with her in every single way.

I was forcible pulled from my thoughts when Y/n jerked my arm rather hard. “What!”  I said a stream of worry flowing through my bones. “Nothing, don’t get you panties in a wade. I just was wondering if you were done telling that story?” Y/n asked with raised eyebrows

“Umm. To be honest with you. All I can remember from that night was how beautiful you looked, and how that night at your bedroom door that I wanted to spend that rest of my days with you. I knew right then that no matter what Chuck said or what Billy said that we were going to be together because I love you.” I said kissing her lips.

Just like every time I kiss her lips it reminds me that she isn’t going to leave. That we are together through anything that could possibly be chucked at us. It reminds me that I’ve got everything I need and it’s all in the room.

When we released each other lips, Y/n looked at me, with bruised lips and said; “I love you to y’know. I remember that day so vividly too. You were wearing your normal jeans and a nicer shirt; we went to a four-star restaurant, I think. I remember you dropping me off at my bedroom door. I so wanted to kiss you before I shut that door, but I couldn’t balls up. I guess that thought of this never happening was too overpowering because the moment I heard your shoes start to fade I opened the door and took the best leap of my life. I love you too Dean.” Y/n said.

Y/n kissed me again in the process ended up in my lap. “Y’know we always end up like this.” I stated as Y/n kissed down my neck. My hands falling down to hips. “This is going to end up with you being submissive, and taking me so well dear.” I spoke. Digging my nails into her hips. She bucked.

“Not too fast naughty boy. Treat your girl to a show first” Y/n said winking at me, before somehow getting out of grasp and running out of our room and down the hall. “Let’s play a quiet game of tag baby. Oh, and just to let y’know. You’re it Dean.” Y/n said running down the hall.

“Yeah, yeah. You better keep running little girl. Because once I catch you. You will be bombarded with kisses all over your body.” I yelled as I followed her around the bunker halls.

“He showed me his scars, and in return he let me pretend that I had none” - Madeline Miller, Circe.

Completed on: 04/07/2021

[yeojaa]

stages: rise (with me).

[ read part one ] 

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  mature.  tags.  alluded/referenced drug use (please be responsible).  they take an innocent shower together.  wc.  1.7k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​ @coepiteamare​ i love y’all.  author note.  jungkook’s rave journey continues. 🤠  soundtrack.  songs to comedown to:  hold me close (climax).

They say you never forget your first time.  They’d be right.

You haven’t left Jungkook’s mind - framed perfectly in the centre of his thoughts, lovely with your star-speckled cheeks, the glitter in your hair.  Mona Lisa but so much more, printed to the backs of his eyelids, picture perfect in neon light and stardust.  He misses you often, despite the fact he always sees you at things like this.  Spies you dancing in a kaleidoscope of colour, made glow-in-the-dark by the appliques on your chest, the rubber toe of your sneakers.  You move as if the music lives in you, as if there’s nothing in the world but the melody. 

It’s easy to get lost in the sway of your hips, the rhythm of your body when the stage erupts in colour and the bass drops.  It captures all of his attention, has him staring like a fool in love, utterly unable to do anything but stop and admire.

God, you’re beautiful.  

His heart stutters in his chest, nearly falling out of the cavity when you catch him in the act, raise a hand and offer the sweetest wave.

There’s a sea of people between you - two dozen writhing bodies - and all he can see is you.  The shape of your smile when he returns the gesture, palms sweaty, pulse racing like a thunderclap.  How the simple expression feels like an explosion of stardust, illuminating everything around you.  (It’s definitely not just the light show.  It’s all you.)

He wonders whether it’ll always be like this - whether the pieces of you will forever be wedged into his heart, little splinters of affection built up like scar tissue.  Whether they’ll ache on days like today, where you’re too far and he’s left to orbit you, caught in your gravitational pull with no hope of escape.  If the scent of strawberries and sugar will remind him of you until he’s old and grey, still hung up on the pretty girl that’d saved him from a meltdown, because no one’s ever felt the way you do. 

“Kook, you good?”  He hears the question, feels the words bounce around in his skull.  Everything’s clearer than it was that first time.  His head’s not under water and he’s not drowning.

(But he wouldn’t mind if it was your voice that called him to sea.  He’d wade a hundred, thousand, million miles for you.  Get swept away by the waves just to hear your voice once more.  It’d be a good way to go.  The best, he thinks.)

“Y-yeah?”  There’s still a haze - a faint fuzziness at the edges of his conscience.  Cotton candy floss that spins everything in circles, sugar-spun particles aching his jaw when he zones out just a little too much, knuckles blown white, water bottle in his hand eviscerated. 

It takes a concerted effort to refocus his attention.  He wants so badly to keep watching, admiring, wanting.

Mischief is palpable, three heavy lines of red striking through syllables.  A new challenger appears in the form of another bottle, lidless and so close it makes Jungkook’s jaw ache in anticipation.  “Want some more?” 

Did he?  Of course.  He can’t have the thing he’s been craving for months;  this will have to do.

“Careful, baby boy.”  You’re suddenly there, right in front of him.  So close he could touch you, smelling like berries and cream and smiling brighter than the sun.  (He swears he might go blind, doesn’t mind when the rays are so warm.)

All at once, he’s shaking all over, limbs loose, foot bouncing.  Stop it, he tells himself, worries for the state of his joints because he thinks he might topple over any minute now.  That there’s nothing he can do to save himself from the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes glow with the strobe of the overhead lights.

He remembers how you held his hand last time, laying in the strange bed wrapped up in your arms.  Your voice static in his ears, cotton threads in the quiet, stretching on and on until he’d fallen asleep.  How you hadn’t left, not once, not even when he’d been burning up, white hot heat tearing through him, sweat pouring from his brow.  

You’d stayed all night, soothed the tremor of his bones.  Promised him things would be okay.  And they were.

The ordeal had left him raw and aching and tired, all the weight of the world carried in the bags under his eyes.  A walking skeleton, nothing but a bag of bones when he’d groaned awake, tripped alive out of his slumber.  But you’d put him back together, glued each piece with nothing but honey and molasses, thick and heavy and so sweet.  Cooed a sweet good morning at two in the afternoon, stamped the shape of your tenderness into his skin and melted tension away with just one caramel-coated smile.

“Hi,”  he says, stutters, hoarse as hell.  Eager as hell.  In love as hell.

(He’s never felt like this before.  Not then.  This is better.  You’re not a mirage in the desert, a vibrating silhouette brought to life by a lightshow.  You’re you!  You’re here.)

“How much have you had?”  

Anyone else, it might be condescending.  But not you.  You’re smiling at him still, reaching too, and he thinks he’s okay - that he’s in control this time.  Realises he’s wrong when he’s leaning too close, falling into the small of your palm, laughing along with you when he nearly topples you both over.

You smell like strawberries and home;  he inhales like you’re spring.

“Not as much as last time.”  Which was to say, just enough.  Not so much he’s a mess, unable to control the rattle of his teeth or the tingling in his fingers.  One cap.  A double.  Nothing outrageous.  Jungkook was smart this time - had finally learned his lesson.

But god, if he doesn’t want to be back where he was that first time with you.  Out of his mind, held together by your touch, seams strung tight by your hands.  That’d be better.

“Good boy.”  Your voice is all of his favourite songs, twinkling in his ears, making his head spin.  It’s all he hears.  The thing in his chest wobbles uncertainly and then so do his knees;  you catch him against your side, hold him together with fingers along his side, fingers replacing the rungs of his ribs.  

He hopes you’ll stay.

It’s easy to get lost in you, distracted by your hand in his, the shade of your smile when you look over your shoulder.  How you fit in his arms, settled like a familiar weight in his lap, curled against his chest.  He’s burning up again - a furnace on a summer night, beaded in sweat and hair sticky.  You don’t care.  You cling to him, run your fingers through his hair.

He swears he’s falling in love, giddy, over the moon, high in the sky with no hopes of coming down.

(But he is.  He can feel the slow-coming clarity, the tremor that dies to a bare tremble when you’re close by.  Your presence medicates him and he doesn’t mind;  you’re angel food cake and lemon tart, not sickly sweet syrup.)

When you guide him into the bathroom, lights off, bumbling about in the dark, it doesn’t matter.  You’re lit up in every colour of the rainbow, Polaris centred in your chest, guiding him home.  He follows without hesitation, crowds you against the sink and giggles to himself when you comb through the sweat-slick tangle plastered to his forehead.

He’s burning up but you cool him down, soothe the ache in his chest when it stutters again and cries out for you.  A salve for his wounds - all the things he doesn’t think about, that sit just beneath the surface and beg for attention.

“Are you okay?”  You ask and he’s barely paying attention to the words, every ounce of focus where it should be:  on you and all your glory.  Each sliver of skin that reveals itself in the darkness.  So pretty he could cry, so soft he swears he’s got velvet in his hands and not your hips.  Picture perfect.  

He says yes but he means no, because how can he be okay when he’s with you.  When you’re pulling him into the glass-walled shower, warm despite the cold water, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.  When you push his hair back and coo a noise that hits him twice - once in the gut and once smack dab in the centre of his chest.  When you’re working out the knots, untangling all the fucked up parts of him with the gentlest motions.  

(Of course Jungkook’s thinking too much, putting too much meaning into how careful you hold him, cradle him like precious glass, unafraid of the broken edges.)

(He can’t help it, though.  Can’t can’t can’t.)

(Wants you too much, wants this too much.  God, save him.)

“Relax,”  you tell him, saccharine and safe, kissing him like you need him just as badly.  There’s a fire lit in the bottom of his chest, a roaring inferno he has no control over.  It dissolves every part of him, turns him to jelly as he melts against you and takes everything you’ll give.

Please, he thinks.

He hasn’t said the words out loud - too afraid, scared of what might come if they slip past his cage of teeth - but you answer all the same, hold him closer, assure him with measured strokes of your hands over the uncertainty he wears like armour.  Sweep it from his shoulders with twists of your fingers and an adoring laugh.  Make him vulnerable and weak and and and—

He doesn’t care.  

Maybe it’s the comedown or maybe it’s you.  It cracks his rib cage in half, splits him wide open, and he doesn’t think twice when you reach in, settle alongside his heart, and make a home. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @codeinebelle​​ @outrofenty​ 

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Nine: Friday

a/n: happy friday lovies!! I am soooo excited for y’all to read this one bc it was my favvv chapter to write and I still get emo over it :’) also I think I should maybe let you all know that we only have two more chapters left in this series, and I can not thank you enough for all of the love and support you have shown it. It has been such a blast hearing your thoughts and sharing Halani with all of you lovely people, and I can’t believe the fun is almost over :( BUT we still have some time before we have to think about that soooo without further ado here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive humor

Word Count: 9.5k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight

Monday

Harry takes a deep breath and raises his arms above his head, feeling every vertebrae stretch as he lies flat against the surfboard. The beaming sunlight warms him down to the bone and it threatens to lull him to sleep, but his attention is too occupied with the various sounds coming from each direction. Out of his right ear, he hears the waves lapping against the shore and the faint sound of children’s laughter. From his left, Mitch and Tom engage in a serious conversation about sharks. He lets one foot slide off the edge of the board and wade into the water below, all the while resisting the paranoia that he will be the next victim of Jaws thanks to his friends’ discussion. 

“I’m gonna go switch out the camera.” Paul says beside him, already swimming back to the shore. 

Harry gives a thumbs up in acknowledgement and lets the back of his hand rest against his forehead. He floats for a moment longer before swinging his other leg into the water and sitting up. His feet gently tread below the surface and he studies the area for any fish sightings, but his shoulders slump in disappointment when he doesn’t find any. 

“I just think,” Mitch defends, legs crossed on his own surfboard. “That I would survive way longer than you,”

“It’s not a fuckin’ zombie apocalypse, survival rate depends on how severe the attack is,” Tom shoots back. 

“Not if you’re smart,”

“Right, good thinking, mate. Just yell the Pythagorean theorem and swim away while the bloody thing tries to solve it,”

“You just don’t get it.”

“Stop bein’ a coward, then, and put your feet in the water.”

Harry shakes his head in amusement and continues scanning the scene for something else to occupy his attention. His eyes momentarily land on a couple in the distance, the pair facing each other on their shared surfboard and laughing. He smiles softly and glances back to the shore where his group has set up camp for the afternoon. Squinting, he tries to determine the time of day using the sun’s position overhead, but quickly gives up and swims back to the beach. The sand clings to his wet toes as he jogs over to his bag and digs inside for his phone. The time reads 2:37–Alani’s shift will be over soon. 

She stifles another yawn and punches in her customer’s order, re-typing it when she realizes that it’s littered with errors. Her mind had been in a permanent fog since she woke up at 6:45 this morning. Harry had already slipped out by the time she reached over for him, but he left a note on his pillow this time. 

GOOD MORNING SWEETS!

SORRY I HAD TO JET SO EARLY :( I’LL SEE YOU AFTER WORK.

 H ☼

P.S. ALREADY MISSING YOUR LITTLE SNORES ♡

As if on cue, Alani’s phone vibrates in her back pocket and she slips it out to read the new text. 

Harry: Meet me at Honoli’i after your shift? 

She really wants to, but she’s also in desperate need of sleep. 

Alani: Gonna take a power nap first, but I’ll be there 

Harry: Can’t wait xx

********

In the distance, Harry hears The Cure blasting from a car in the parking lot. He hums along and picks at his bowl of fruit, saving the kiwis for Alani who once said they were her favorite. Jeff and Paul laugh about something between the two of them before the director catches Harry’s attention. 

“How long you planning on staying here?” he asks. 

Harry checks his phone again and the time reads 4:35. He wasn’t entirely sure how long Alani’s nap was supposed to last, but just as he’s about to answer, a text comes through. 

Alani: Heading over. See you soon, sunshine💗

He smiles softly and shuts his phone off. “I actually have a surfing lesson at five. But I’ll meet you guys at the house after.”

Paul, the two Jeffs, Mitch, and Tom bid Harry farewell and decide to take a drive along the coast before heading to dinner. They mention the name of the restaurant they plan to go to, but Harry knows he’ll probably skip it and take Alani somewhere else. He sits back on his elbows, watching the palm trees sway in the breeze, when suddenly his vision goes dark when he feels hands over his eyes. 

“Guess who,”

“The Queen of England?”

“Yes and I’m here to colonize your land and steal your jewels,” Alani jokes in a posh British accent.  She leans over his head so they partake in an upside down kiss before settling into the sand beside him. 

“You’ve already had my family jewels,” he teases with a suggestive wiggle of his brows. 

Alani scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You are so insufferable sometimes, I swear to God,”

Harry lies back and rests his head in her lap with a shit-eating-grin plastered to his face. The damp locks along his hairline are curled and Alani twirls the pieces between her fingers. 

“Saved y’some kiwis,” he informs her, nodding in the direction of his tote bag. 

“Aw thanks, baby,” 

“How was your day?” 

Alani removes the lid and pops a slice of kiwi into her mouth. “Long, boring, tiring. A lot better now,”

“Feel the same way,”

“How’s your project going?” she questions, curious about his recent, mysterious whereabouts. 

He shrugs. “S’fine, yeah,”

“What exactly is it, again?”

“It’s a,” Harry starts slowly. “Video thing… kind of,”

Alani narrows her eyes and lifts another piece of fruit to her lips. “Meaning?”

“It’s like—following uh.. the album ‘n stuff,”

“Ah the elusive album,” Alani nods. “Will I ever get to hear any of it?”

“Yeah,”

“When?”

“Dunno,” he blinks. “When’re you gonna let me read that article of yours?”

She smirks and taps her fork against her lower lip. “When it’s ready,”

“Then I’m withholding my thing ‘til it’s ready too,”

“That’s not fair,” she objects. “My article is contingent on your music,”

“One song,” Harry bargains, holding up his index finger. “In exchange for one paragraph. Seems fair to me,”

“Deal,”

He sits up suddenly and opens his mouth as an unspoken request for a kiwi. Alani tosses it in his direction and to her surprise, he catches it effortlessly. 

“You really are a freak of nature,” she marvels. “What can’t you do?”

“Stay away from you, apparently,” 

“Ditto,”

“D’you wanna head to the water for a bit?” Harry asks, his eyes landing on the board cast to the side.

Alani nods. “Sure thing,”

She strips down to the pink two piece underneath her clothes and accepts his outstretched hand. They shuffle through the sand, joint hands swinging, but Harry stops and scans her face when they reach the edge. 

“What?” Alani asks, already dipping her toes in the water. 

He runs his thumb over hers and starts hesitantly. “I know the water is kind of…”

“Oh,” she finishes when he trails off. “Yeah. I mean, for the most part I’m okay with it. Last time was just—I wasn’t expecting it,”

“I’m really sorry for that.” Harry apologizes with a somber look in his eye. 

Alani reaches her free hand out to his cheek and offers a comforting smile. “No, it’s okay. I actually used to be pretty good at surfing,”

“Oh?”

“Haven’t really done it in years, though. I’m probably really rusty now,”

“Well maybe it’s time to get back on the horse,” Harry urges, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of her palm before leading them further into the waves. Alani gets up on the board first and it's clear that she’s a natural despite the lack of practice. Her muscles fall into a mesmerizing rhythm as they repeat the very motions she had done thousands of times before her accident. Harry’s eyes carefully study the precision of her determined arms slicing through the water and the way her feet gracefully meet the board once she’s found a strong enough wave. She glides back to the beach and revels in the familiar feeling of the ocean breeze against her skin. Harry whistles from the distance as she reaches the shore, turning back to him with a wide grin and two thumbs up. 

“Your turn,” she calls, paddling towards him on her stomach. 

Harry replaces her on the board and winces. “Maybe I should’ve gone first,”

“You’re gonna do great,” Alani insists. “Tighten your core muscles. Oh! And bend your knees, not your back. Just trust your instincts and follow through,”

He follows her advice and to his surprise, does well, though not nearly as graceful as she had. Despite this, Alani cheers from the side as he glides back to the beach. Harry takes a bow once his feet have safely met the sand below. 

“I knew you could do it,” she beams when he swims back to her. 

“Couldn’t have done it without my amazing coach,” he shoots back, leaning down to press a salty kiss to her lips. 

With Harry’s help, she swings her leg over the board and sits so that they face each other. Their legs paddle gently below the surface and his hand finds the top of her knee, giving it an affectionate squeeze. 

“You were incredible out there,” he muses. “Can’t even tell that you’re out of practice,”

She wrings her hair out and fastens it into a low bun at the base of her neck. “Guess it’s like riding a bike—the muscle memory and all that,”

“You’re a great coach, you know. Cause I usually just wipe out,”

“That’s normal,” Alani nods. “You have to get used to falling. And wait for the right wave,”

Harry admires the way the afternoon sun sets her aglow, skin shimmering and golden under the rays. “How d’you know when it’s the right one?”

“You just feel it I guess. It’s like a gut instinct that you have to follow. And no second guessing yourself, either, cause that’s when you mess up,”

“What if you do go for it and you still wipe out?” He questions, something besides surfing in the back of his mind. 

Alani sighs. “Then you wipe out,”

“You just have to trust?”

“You just have to trust,”

Harry hums as he considers this. Three burning syllables bounce around in his skull, but he suppresses them for the time being. Carefully, he lifts himself to his feet and motions for Alani to do the same. It takes them a second to find their balance on the board, but eventually they do and Harry brings her closer with a protective hand on the middle of her back. 

“D’you trust me?” he murmurs. 

Alani studies the different shades of green in his irises and feels a flutter deep in the pit of her belly, so she decides to take her own advice and presses a soft kiss to his warm lips before responding. 

“Yes.”

Carefully, Harry takes a step back and twirls Alani before pulling her flush to his chest and swaying to the music stuck in his brain. As best they can, the pair dances on the surface of the board but Harry’s foot gets caught in a slick spot and he tumbles backwards, bringing Alani with him. When they emerge, his heart races in worry, but the knot in his chest eases when he hears her laughter.  

“Y’okay?” he checks. 

“Yeah,” she assures him, her legs snaking around his torso under the water. “I’m alright.”

The sky turns pink as they continue to wade peacefully in the water, and the entire time Harry finds himself fixated on the weight of the three little words nagging at the back of his brain. 

********

Tuesday

“Say it again,”

“No,”

“Please?”

Harry shoots Alani an unamused look through the corner of his eye. “Dunno what’s so funny about it,”

“Just say it one more time,” she pleads with a mischievous glint in her eye. 

“Tuesday,”

“Chews day,” Alani mimics and Harry rolls his eyes. 

“You’re so clever,” he huffs. “Really, a true comedian,”

She giggles and leans over in her seat to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s cute!”

“Yeah, whatever,”

“Okay, just one more—”

“Alani,” Harry chuckles, more endeared than irritated. “Don’t make me turn this car around,”

She pouts playfully and returns to watching the trees and passing cars. “At least I’m not asking you where we’re going,”

“You are so stubborn,” he shakes his head. “I told you we’re almost there,”

“I just don’t understand what it is with you and keeping secrets,”

“It’s about the mystery, darlin’, it’s romantic! Just trust me, okay? Have I ever steered you wrong?”

Alani nibbles at the skin on her lower lip and folds her arms. “No,”

“Okay, then,” Harry says finally. “Now change the song. I let you have fun with one Taylor, but it’s getting old,”

“Hater,” she grumbles, shuffling through the rest of her playlists before settling on Madonna. 

Harry’s finger taps along to the beat against her thigh and his lips turn up when he hears Alani singing along. Her eyes are focused on the road ahead of them as she pretends to be in a music video of her own, creating hand gestures and choreography to accompany the lyrics. The chorus builds and she belts out the words as if her life depends on it. 

“I’m crazy for you!”  She performs, squishing Harry’s cheeks between her hands. “Touch me once and you’ll know it’s true. I never wanted anyone like this, it’s all brand new. You’ll feel it in my kiss,”

Alani presses a slobbery smooch to the side of his face and he groans, laughing when she continues melodramatically. The song goes on for another minute and Alani sings passionately out of tune, but it makes Harry’s heart swell. He briefly considers joining her, but decides to let her have her moment, too amused by the way she’s caught up in the emotion. When it’s finally over, she slumps down in her seat with a dazed look in her eye. 

“Gotta love the 80s,”

“Maybe I should let you join the band,” Harry suggests. 

“Really?

“No,”

Alani gasps in mock offense, her eyes wide. “Hey!”

“Yeah,” he smirks. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she dismisses offhandedly. “I’m a sweetie,”

“A sweet pain in my arse,”

“Arse? Did you really just say arse?”

“I take it back, you’re just a regular pain.”

The two of them drive for another forty-five minutes taking playful jabs at each other and watching the lush greenery whizz by. Harry had been characteristically cryptic in his instructions the night before, an idea suddenly popping into his mind when Alani reminded him of her day off. He had told her to wear something comfortable and practical, nothing that could flow easily in the wind. Furthermore, he revealed that he would pick her up at exactly 7:00 a.m. which made her eyebrows shoot up. 

“Seven?”

“It’ll be worth it, promise,”

“Can we at least get McDonald’s hash browns for the road?” Alani had bargained. 

Harry chuckled to himself, too excited to deny her. “Sure thing, sweets.”

Welcome to Waikōloa Beach, the sign read and Alani wondered what could possibly have possessed Harry to drag her out of bed and across the island at the crack of dawn. Her question was quickly answered when they turned onto Keana Place where a lot full of helicopters were lined up and waiting. 

“‘Big Island Tours’,” she reads aloud. “Wait a minute, we’re not—”

“Surprise!” Harry beams, reaching behind her seat for a bag. 

Alani scoffs, her mind still trying to process. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Come on,” he pleads. “Been dying to do it since I got here,”

“So bring Mitch! Or Jeff, or Tom or literally anyone else,”

Harry gives her a pout and bats his lashes. “But I’d rather be with you. Please?”

“Harry,” she sighs, taking another glance at the helicopters before her. They did seem secure enough, enclosed on all sides, and he had driven an hour and a half just to surprise her with something fun and totally outside of her comfort zone. 

“Trust me?” he asks after a minute, kissing her knuckles gently. 

Alani takes a deep breath and nods. “Fine.”

They exit the SUV and Harry takes her hand, slinging his bag over his shoulder. There’s a short, stocky man with dark sunglasses standing in front of one of the helicopters with a clipboard. He checks his watch when he sees the two of them approaching and reaches out a hand. 

“Mr. Styles?”

“Harry,”

“Nice to meet you Harry, I’m Matt,” the pilot says with a firm handshake. “Is this your guest?”

“Alani,” she greets. “Is this…”

“It’s very safe,” Matt assures her with a warm smile. 

Harry squeezes her hand gently and looks over their mode of transportation. “How long’ve you been doin’ this?”

“Almost ten years,” the pilot explains. “I was a commercial pilot for twenty-five and then started this when I retired,”

“I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of nervous fliers, then,” Alani speaks up, attempting humor to mask her jitters. 

Matt nods with a knowing smile. “Oh yeah. Plenty of anxious girlfriends who kick their boyfriends for dragging them into it, but they always enjoy themselves in the end,”

Alani’s cheeks warm at his assumption of their relationship status, but neither her nor Harry address it. Instead, Harry clears his throat and asks his next question. 

“So when can we go up?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Matt offers. 

Once the three of them have settled into the aircraft, he hands Harry and Alani each a headset and goes over the basic safety rules. Her heart races and stomach turns, but she takes a deep breath and wills herself to give it a chance. Beside her, Harry is enthusiastically chatting up Matt and being his usual charming self; his confidence is reassuring and she finds herself sinking deeper into his side for comfort. He drapes an arm over her shoulders protectively, sensing her nerves, and presses a firm kiss to her temple. After a few minutes of discussion with the air base over the radio, Matt gives them a thumbs up and signals that they’re ready to go. Another deep breath and they’re off, the ground growing smaller and smaller below. They skim over Waikōloa Village and head west to Waiulua Bay where the water is so clear and blue, Harry has a hard time believing it’s real. Alani peers down at the tiny people all along the coast and in the water and her throat goes dry. She feels Harry nudge her shoulder lightly and looks over to where his finger is pointed. 

“Down there you can swim with dolphins,” he says. “Looked it up last night,”

“And we’re not doing that because...?”

Harry flashes a dimpled grin and laughs softly to himself. “How are you not enjoying this?”

“I am,” Alani insists, which is steadily becoming true. She watches in amazement as they hover over the expanse of the lush, green landscape along the coast. 

Over the headset, Matt points out some key landmarks and answers more of Harry’s questions. They pass over an active volcano and Alani momentarily feels a rush of terror, but her curiosity takes over as she snaps a photo of the molten lava below. She captures another one of Harry looking out his window before flipping the camera to selfie mode and making a peace sign. He turns to tell her something, but flashes a cheesy grin and presses a kiss to her cheek when he notices the camera. Alani writes a mental note to make it her lock screen later. 

After half an hour in the air, Matt points to the cliff on their right hand side and says they’ll be landing there for a bit as part of the tour. A 200 foot waterfall feeds into a small pool and he lands them on a ledge across the way. The three of them exit the helicopter, but Matt says that he needs to check in with the base and lets them explore the site alone for a few minutes. 

“This is incredible,” Alani marvels, looking over the edge. 

“Knew you’d like it,”

She turns to him and snakes her arms around his shoulders, leaving a small peck to his lips. “Thank you,”

While she had been almost one-hundred percent sure that she would never enjoy a helicopter ride, Alani is glad that she was wrong. She is even more grateful that Harry had encouraged, but hadn’t pushed, her to try it. If Alani had been absolutely against the idea, she knows that he wouldn’t have pressed it any further and would have taken her to do something more her speed, hence the dolphin back up plan. It sometimes felt like they were from entirely different worlds, Harry being more sure of himself and adventurous while Alani was careful and preferred to have things planned. But he made her feel brave and spontaneous without pressuring  her to change anything about herself. Harry had seen something special in her and wanted the whole world to see it, too. So he encouraged her to break out of her comfort zone and let her true self shine, but only at her own discretion. Over the course of the past few weeks, Alani had noticed herself opening up to new experiences and loving every minute of it, but this transformative feeling was far from one sided; because of their relationship, Harry learned the value of trusting his own instincts. For so much of his life, he felt like a member of an overcrowded democracy allowing himself to go with the majority rule even if it didn’t particularly please him. From their earliest moments spent together, Harry was inspired by Alani’s determination and self-confidence. He had always cared deeply about other people’s opinion of him and felt that it was his greatest weakness, but she seemed so unapologetically herself at all times. And though Harry sometimes worried that he was simply playing a part for the rest of the world, he never had to question who he was with Alani. She understood him, she grounded him, and amidst all of the unfamiliarity in his new life, she felt familiar and safe. 

“You deserve it,” Harry says gently. “To see beautiful things.”

Alani presses their foreheads together and studies his emerald eyes like they’re the rarest gems she’s ever seen. “Well I’m looking at the best damn view right now,”

“Although, I wish you would’ve told me we were going to Jurassic Park, I would’ve prepared my Laura Dern outfit.”

Harry laughs softly and slots his lips between hers, those three, pesky little words nagging at him again. Not yet, he thinks, but almost there. 

********

Wednesday 

Alani takes an extended lunch and heads over to the recording studio with food for Harry and his friends. He had warned her beforehand that there would be filming, so they agreed to pretend, just for the afternoon, that she was his assistant. However, their true relationship was as much of  a mystery to the both of them as it was to everyone else. Alani had considered, on many occasions, asking him to officially be her boyfriend. She didn’t know how else to refer to him when her mom had started inquiring about the Range Rover mysteriously parked across the street every morning. Each time Alani had gotten up the nerve to ask, however, she secretly worried that it was too soon, or worse, that he would say no. Much to her oblivion Harry had also wrestled with this question, and many others, but also feared her response. What they shared was undeniably strong and completely foreign, so they had independently decided not to put too much weight on the situation in fear of bursting the bubble too soon. Neither of them were prepared to deal with the fallout if it all came crumbling down. 

“Lunch is here!” Jeff calls from the doorway as he escorts Alani inside. 

He motions her over to the table in one corner of the room and helps her lay out the food, thanking her warmly when she declines payment. 

“It’s on the house,” she reassures him. 

The crew all take turns grabbing their lunch, Mitch ruffling Alani’s hair in a display of gratitude while he swipes his burger, and settle into various chairs and comfortable spots around the studio. Harry is the last one to claim his food and he lingers around the table as he does so. 

“Thank you, Ms. Hale,” he offers politely, itching to give her an appreciative kiss. 

She nods and returns the professionalism. “You’re very welcome, Mr. Styles,”

“How’s the weather?”

By now, Alani has come to recognize this as his go-to inquiry when he’s really asking for her attention or affection. 

“Full of sunshine,”

“Glad to hear it.” he smiles softly. The casual slip of his nickname isn’t lost on him. 

“Hey Harry,” the director calls. “Show Jason that Bob Dylan thing you were doing—watch, you’ll love this.”

Harry musters up a pleasant smile and quickly glances at Alani, wanting nothing more than to escape with her for the precious few moments she has left to spare. 

“Occupational hazard.” she shrugs as her cue of permission. His fond look turns apologetic before he saunters over to the rest of the group. 

Alani watches, amused, as he lifts a guitar and starts strumming a tune that she hadn’t heard before with a Dylan-esque lilt in his voice. The crew all laugh and encourage his impression, but she still wonders what the song is and reminds herself to ask later. After a few moments with the rest of the group, Harry’s eyes wander to Alani munching on a french fry and scrolling on her phone. Jeff notices this too and decides to help his friend out.

“Hey Alani,” he calls. “Come sit with us,”

She looks over to Harry and he grins eagerly, making room on the couch between him and Mitch. 

“Alani makes the best smoothies in the world.”  Jeff comments to the film crew. 

“It’s true,” Mitch adds. “Harry loves ‘em.”

A subtle glare radiates from the singer, but Mitch simply winks in response. 

“Well, you guys are my favorite customers,” Alani offers. “But don’t tell the others,”

The whole team makes Alani feel welcome and she’s endlessly thankful for it, making an effort to engage every crew member in some sort of small talk as evidence of her gratitude. Harry enjoys her presence among his friends and how easily she fits in. It serves as further proof of what his gut already knew: she was a missing puzzle piece in the image of his ideal life slowly coming together before his eyes. Alani checks the time an hour later and starts bidding farewell to the group, much to their disappointment. As she slips out the door and over to the Bronco, a familiar accented voice calls from behind. Before she has time to respond, a pair of warm lips meet hers and she hums. 

“They’re all goin’ out  for dinner at 5,” Harry explains gently. “Come back to the studio then, I have somethin’ I wanna show you.”

********

It’s 5:10 when Alani makes her way back to Napua. Harry had texted her beforehand to say that the door would be open, so she lets herself in and scans the quiet room. She hears the soft keys of a piano, but the room is dim and she has to get closer to see that it’s Harry seated there. Candles are perched around the room and Alani watches her step, reaching a hand to Harry’s shoulder when she reaches him. He stops playing and flashes a soft smile, inviting her to join him on the bench. 

“Digging the ambience,” Alani remarks lightly, not entirely reading his mood. 

He shrugs. “Just felt right,” 

Harry’s fingers return to the keys and he starts with a somber chord that makes Alani’s breath hitch. His vocals are raw and gritty, but stronger than she had ever heard him sing and it nearly moves her to tears. She hangs on every word and burns them into her mind for safe keeping, though she doubts that she could ever forget this moment even if she tried. Harry picks up into the chorus and leaves nothing behind, diving straight into the wave without fear of wiping out. Alani tries, but she can’t contain the tears that spill over her cheek. It’s as if every ounce of apprehension and anxiety, every doubt and moment of insecurity is cleansed from her soul right in this very moment. When the song comes to an end, she immediately wishes to relive it and tries to find the right words in response. 

“That was incredible,” Alani clears her throat. “What’s it called?”

“Sign of the Times,” he responds. “Not really sure about it,”

She furrows her brows in confusion, but quickly realizes that he’s being honest and not fishing for compliments. 

“Why?”

“It’s… different,”

“Than?”

He thinks for a moment and chooses his next words carefully. “Anything I‘ve ever done before,”

“And why’s that bad?” Alani questions with a comforting hand weaving its way into his hair. 

“Dunno,” Harry sighs, leaning into her touch. “I just don’t wanna get it wrong,”

At this moment, “it” isn’t just the song. Everything about his new solo career, and his life in general, is a toss up, and one that he isn’t sure will land in his favor. Alani has no doubts, though, not when it comes to her faith in Harry’s abilities. 

“Are you happy?” she asks. 

He looks over to her and thinks that he couldn’t possibly be more content. “Yeah,”

“Then you’re already succeeding. If you’re happy with what you’re doing, then no one can tell you that you’re not successful,”

Harry feels his own wave of emotions pooling at the bottom of his lash line and he’s grateful that the low lighting conceals it. He closes the gap between their lips, palm secure against the side of Alani’s face as he keeps her close. 

“There’s somethin’ else I wanted to talk to you about,” Harry says gently and Alani feels her heartbeat pick up. 

“Okay,”

He isn’t sure how to approach the subject, despite the fact that it’s been the only thing on his mind for days, so he decides to trust his gut and speak from the heart.

“These past few weeks with you,” he starts slowly. “Have been the best of my entire life. When I’m with you, it’s like nothing else in the entire world matters, and nothing bad could ever happen to me because there’s you,”

Another tear rolls down Alani’s face and Harry wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. 

“All I asked for was a chance,” he continues. “And it feels like you’ve given me the entire world. Do you remember the day when we saw that rainbow?”

“Yes,” Alani nods, voice small. 

“You told me to wish for something, and I did. I wished for a home. I didn’t know why, but that word wouldn’t leave me alone after you said it. But I think I understand it now, because I’m in a place I’ve never been before, physically and in my life generally, but you make it feel like home. You bring me home,”

Alani feels as if all of the air inside her lungs has been sucked out, and her grip on Harry’s wrist tightens because she worries that if he lets go, she’ll float away like a helium balloon. 

“I know I’m not perfect,” Harry continues, voice wavering. “But this thing we have feels like it could set the world on fire, and I’d gladly walk in the flames for you. So would you please say you’ll be mine and let me prove it?”

“Yes,” Alani breathes, tears of relief and joy still streaming down her face. “But I need a moment to compose an appropriate girlfriend acceptance speech,”

Harry grins and presses their lips together as if she’s the only source of air. 

“Seriously,” Alani chuckles when they pull apart. “Cause how the fuck could I top that?”

“Y’don’t need to. Saying yes was all I needed,”

She unclasps her fingers from his, draping her arms around his shoulders instead, and takes a deep breath. “You’re everything, you know that? You’re the sun and the whole universe revolves around you.”

“And you’re the most heavenly moon,” Harry responds thinking back to the meaning of her name. “Mahealani.”

********

Thursday

When Alani’s father had asked for her help setting up a wedding that was taking place at the resort this weekend, she jumped at the chance. It wasn’t often that she got to be involved in the events at Honu, but she adored the luxurious five star hotel and all of its amenities. She had helped her dad cater numerous events over the years and weddings were her absolute favorite, especially because of the beautiful gowns and all of the blissfully happy couples. It felt like a privilege to glimpse into the most special moments in the lives of strangers she would probably never see again. Alani had been tasked with meeting the bride and collecting any last minute meal cards or notes of dietary restrictions from guests. The wedding was to take place the following night, but all the food prep would begin that afternoon in order to adequately prepare. 

“I think that’s all. There were just a few last minute adjustments,” the bride, Mila, says pulling out an envelope from her bag. 

“No offense,” Alani starts. “But shouldn’t you be resting? I mean isn’t the maid of honor supposed to do all this? Or a wedding planner?”

Mila sighs, an embarrassed smile spreading across her rosy lips. “I know, I’m just a bit of a control freak. I like things done a certain way,”

“Totally understandable,”

“Like the music thing,” Mila rolls her eyes. “It was my fiancé’s idea. He said that DJs were boring and wanted to let the guests choose their own songs, instead. So that was my compromise. I’m trying,”

Alani offers a chuckle and shuffles the last of the cards into her stack. “Sounds like you’re already mastering this whole marriage thing,”

“Are you married?” the bride asks, curiously. 

“Oh, no I’m not,” 

“Got a boyfriend?”

Alani’s cheeks warm and her lips curl. “Yes,”

“Knew it,” Mila comments with a knowing smirk. “You’re too pretty to be single. And you’ve got the look,”

“What look?” Alani questions. 

Mila flutters her lashes and sighs. “The ‘I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it’ look. Like a Disney princess,”

Alani laughs shyly and focuses her attention back to the envelopes in front of her. 

“What’s his name?” the bride pries. 

“Harry,”

“That’s a good one,” Mila considers tapping her lower lip. “Like the Prince of England. Maybe you will be a princess, after all,”

Alani is amused by the irony of her statement, but she chooses not to disclose the fact that her boyfriend actually is British, albeit, not a Royal. Instead, she chooses to deflect the attention back onto the bride. 

“And what’s your lucky guy’s name?”

“Chad,”

“Like the country,”

“Yeah,” Mila giggles. “Like the country,”

“And what’s he like?”

Mila rests her chin in her hand and a dreamy look settles into her hazel eyes. “Funny. He wanted to be a comedian, but he became a lawyer, instead. That’s how we met— law school,”

“What kind of law do you practice?”

“Ironic enough,” Mila chuckles. “Family and divorce law. I never thought I’d get married, I mean I literally hear about people falling out of love every day. But the thing about love is that it’s effort, and a lot of people aren’t willing to put in the work. It doesn’t feel like work when it’s the right person, though. Just feels like ‘how can I be the best possible partner to this human that I love so much?’”

Alani considers this, her mind immediately wandering to Harry and all of his thoughtful gestures. “Makes sense,”

“Chad is a patent lawyer,” Mila continues. “He’s the more creative, outgoing one, I guess. He makes things light when it gets too heavy, you know? It’s good to have someone like that,”

“Yeah, definitely,”

“What’s your guy like? What does he do?” Mila asks with a flirty grin. 

“He’s, uh,” Alani thinks for a second trying to be as vague as possible. “A musician,”

Mila gives an approving nod. “Dreamy. Bet he writes lots of songs about you,”

“Maybe,”

“Don’t be shy,” Mila urges. “Come on, it’s just us girls. Spill,”

Alani thinks for a moment and imagines that the same dream cloud must be present over her own features.

“Well he’s kind, thoughtful, romantic, and wise. Really funny, too. I don’t know he just—he makes me wanna be a better person, really,”

“Wow,” the bride marvels. “Sounds like a hell of a guy,”

“He is,”

Mila leans in conspiratorially and Alani does the same. “Speaking as an expert, I think it’s gonna last forever,”

“You think?” Alani asks. 

“Oh yeah,” Mila assures her. “When you’re so used to studying fake love, you get really good at recognizing the real deal,”

Alani offers her an appreciative smile and nods. “Thank you,”

Mila’s eyes light up suddenly and she grabs Alani by both hands. “Hey you should bring him! Yeah, you two should come, I insist,”

“Oh, I—”

“Please, say you will! Maybe he can throw in some good music recommendations to offset the terrible ones,”

Alani chuckles and she knows immediately that Harry would leap at the chance to do so. “Okay, sure.”

“Yay!” Mila cheers, reaching into her planner and jotting a note down. “Harry and Alani at the lovebird’s table.”

********

“Hey, sweets,” Harry beams, pulling up to the front of the hotel in the Cadillac. “Waiting on your boyfriend or are you just in the habit of standing on sidewalks lookin’ cute?”

“The former,” Alani responds coyly. “He’ll be here any minute,” 

“And he’s got a pretty girl like you waiting outside like this? You should dump him,”

She shrugs and turns on her heel for a stroll while Harry gently eases off the breaks to follow. “I don’t know, I’m kinda fond of him,”

“S’that so?” he continues with a smirk. 

“Yup,” she sighs. “He’s kind of a dork, but I like that about him,” 

“Heyyy—”

“And he’s a good kisser. The best at cuddling, too,” 

“Sounds like a catch,” 

“He is. You two should meet sometime,”

The car comes to a halt and Alani slips inside, scooting all the way down the bench seat next to Harry. 

“Funny, you should be a comedian,” he quips.

Alani’s brow furrows and she shoots him a doe-eyed look. “What’s the joke?”

Harry laughs dryly, ignoring the pang of irrational jealousy that strikes him in the chest. “You’re a little too good at this bit, it’s starting to feel like we're not talkin’ about me anymore,”

“Oh, were we supposed to be talking about you?” 

His head whips over to Alani who clutches her stomach with laughter. “I’m kidding, baby, of course I’m talking about you,” 

“No, who is he?” Harry demands playfully with a deep furrow between his brows. “Tell me, I’ll hurt him,” 

Alani slots their lips together and his pout eases into a grin. 

“Hey what are you doing tomorrow night?” she asks, feeling the ocean breeze through her hair. 

Harry flashes a dimple in her direction. “Anything you want, s’long as we’re together,”

“Will you be my plus one?”

“To?”

“A wedding,” Alani explains. “The one my dad’s catering at Honu,”

His eyebrows raise and he smiles wide. “Are we crashing it?”

“No,” she laughs. “We were invited. I was hanging out with the bride today and she added us to the list,”

“‘Kay, but I’m still gonna pretend we crashed it,”

Alani drapes her arms around his shoulders and leans her head against his. “Where are we going?”

“Damn, I thought I had you distracted,”

“Boyfriend rule #1: You have to tell me where we’re going always,”

Harry narrows his eyes. “That’s not a real rule because surprises are romantic,”

“Too bad,” Alani shrugs.

“But don’t you enjoy my surprises?”

“Usually,”

“Then I’m adding a new rule,” Harry bargains. “The girlfriend can not ask the boyfriend to disclose the location of a date if they’re already in the car,”

“That’s not fair, I was already in the car when the rule was made!”

“Too bad.”

Alani pinches his cheek and slinks back into her own seat. She tells him about the bride and the groom, what she knows, at least, and about the decision to have their guests RSVP with a song of their choice to play at the reception. 

“D’you know what you’re gonna pick?” Harry asks. 

“Yeah,” Alani nods. “I Wanna Dance with Somebody by Whitney Houston, obviously,”

“Obviously,” he agrees. 

“You?”

“Dunno, yet. Have to narrow it down,”

Alani admires the heart-shaped glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Well you better make it good, cause Mila knows that you’re a musician and she’s expecting you to balance out her friends’ shitty music taste,”

“You were talkin’ about me?” he teases. 

“Well, yeah, how else do you think you got invited?”

“You have such a crush on me, s’cute,”

Alani playfully pokes his cheek. “We’re literally dating, dummy,”

“Don’t get defensive,” Harry jokes. “Cause I’ve got a crush on you too.”

“God, we’re so annoying.”

Harry grins and presses a kiss to her temple. They pull into the Port of Hilo and he magically produces a picnic basket from the backseat, a bottle of Moët et Chandon rosé peeking out. Alani slips her fingers between his and follows as he leads them to a sizable speed boat anchored and waiting for them. 

“The Carolina,” Alani reads, admiring the golden cursive on the side. 

“Like someone else I know,” Harry winks. 

He escorts her onto the vessel and she waits to see when the captain will join them, but confusion washes over her when she sees Harry poking around with the equipment. 

“What are you doing?”

“As much fun as it would be to eat at the dock,” he begins. “I think it would be more fun to take ole Carolina for a spin,”

“You mean you’re gonna drive this thing?” Alani questions, though she doesn’t know why she’s surprised by him anymore. 

“Pilot,” Harry corrects. “But yes,”

Alani blinks and tries to wrap her head around the idea of Harry piloting a boat. “And you’re allowed to do that?”

“Sure.”

“Wow,” she marvels to herself with an incredulous laugh. “I’m dating a sailor.”

Harry flashes Alani a wink over his shoulder and before she knows it, they’re heading away from the dock. She carefully stands from the lounging area at the back and sneaks over to Harry, arms wrapping around his torso with her chin propped on his shoulder. He steers with one hand and extends the other, recreating the iconic Titanic boat scene. 

“I’m flying, Jack!” he calls over his shoulder and Alani giggles, responding with her best improvised rendition of My Heart Will Go On. 

They sail out for a bit longer before Harry stops the boat and turns to her. “Ta da!”

“By jove, he’s done it!” Alani praises. 

Harry takes a bow and reaches over for the picnic basket, pulling out the rosé and two champagne flutes. He hands them to Alani and spreads their meal on the lounging area at the back: vegetable stir fry and noodles with chocolate covered strawberries for desert. 

“You did all this?” Alani muses. 

He takes each flute from her hand and fills them halfway. “It’s a special occasion,” 

“I feel like an asshole for not knowing what it is,”

“Don’t,” Harry chuckles, handing her the wine. “I mean it’s not really like—I just realized it,”

“What is it?”

Harry raises his glass and clears his throat. “Exactly three months ago, I got off a plane and I stumbled into a little café where the most beautiful and funny and smart waitress served me about twenty glasses of water until I nearly pissed my pants in front of her,”

Alani giggles at the memory, disbelief settling in when she considers how fast the time had flown. 

“And despite all of the embarrassing and idiotic things I’ve done since,” he continues. “She agreed to be my girlfriend, for reasons I have yet to understand. So today I celebrate her, and us, and all of lucky stars that brought our paths together,”

They clink their glasses together and Alani presses a cool kiss to his lips. “Cheers, baby,”

“There’s one more thing,” Harry says, holding a finger up. 

Alani scoffs. “It’s like fucking Pandora’s box in there!”

He pulls out a velvet box and her heart stops. 

“Wait, what are you—”

“It’s not what you think,” he explains quickly. “Sorry, maybe should’ve thought this through better,”

Harry opens the lid and lifts a gold chain with a crescent moon pendant and a smaller sun in the center. 

“Saw it in a shop this morning,” he says softly. “Seemed like fate, so I got it,”

“Harry,” Alani breathes, eyes already glossy. 

“D’you like it?”

“I love it! It’s beautiful,” she says, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “Thank you so much.”

He fastens the necklace for her and she admires it with gentle fingers. The sun and the moon, a piece of them cast in gold and resting against her beating heart forever. 

********

Friday 

“Wow,” Harry gawks, his eyes raking in Alani’s appearance. A baby pink tulle dress falls just above her knee with puffy sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, all cinched at the waist with a small bow. Tiny velvet hearts are speckled all over the dress, in true Alani fashion, and a pair of sparkling, pink heels accentuate her toned calves. 

“Wow yourself,” she counters, drinking in the peek of exposed skin behind his cream colored blazer. The blue dress shirt underneath is unbuttoned just above the butterfly on his stomach and a cross is nestled in the valley between his pecs. He holds out a bouquet of sunflowers between his ringed fingers and Alani accepts them gratefully, moving to the side so he can step into the house. 

“These are gorgeous, thank you,” she says, lifting them to her nose. 

“Welcome,” he smiles softly, swiping the pad of his thumb against her chin. “You are gorgeous,”

Alani presses her rose tinted lips to his carefully and pulls back to admire him again. “And you are so good looking it actually makes me mad.”

Harry laughs and pulls her closer for another sweet kiss before he hears the clearing of another person’s throat. 

“Have her back by midnight,” Pua teases with her arms crossed. “Or I’ll hunt you down.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry salutes before bending down to address Freddie. 

Alani passes the sunflowers to her sister with a kiss to her cheek before hooking an arm under Harry’s and heading out. They hop into the convertible and the sun catches the golden pendant around her neck, bringing a soft smile to his face. 

“Hope those are your dancin’ shoes,” Harry remarks. “Cause we’re goin’ full Dirty Dancing tonight,”

“Lift and all?” 

“Lift and all,”

She runs her fingers over the silver rose on his ring finger.  “You know, I think we’re finally gonna nail it this time.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry agrees. “They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

When they arrive at Honu, the other guests are shuffling from the parking lot and onto the private beach where the reception will take place. Alani plucks a card from her bag to drop into the box at the entrance while Harry pulls a medium sized box from behind his seat. 

“You got a real gift?” Alani questions, a light laugh erupting. “We don’t even know these people,”

Harry tucks the gift under his arm and shrugs. “I put your name on it too, don’t worry,”

“Well now they’ll have a giftcard to Ikea and whatever’s in your mystery box.”

“It’s also a giftcard to Ikea, but wrapped in a big box.”

Alani nudges his shoulder playfully and scans the groups mingling and flocking to the mini bar. She waves to a member of her dad’s kitchen staff attending to the hors d’oeuvres before they are greeted by the manager of the guest list. 

“Alani and Harry,” she says to the tall woman behind the podium. 

“Ah yes,” the woman responds. “The Lovebirds table, number 9.”

“Guess Mila wasn’t joking about that.” Alani chuckles lightly, taking both of their name cards. 

Harry locates their table and to his surprise, no one else is present yet, but he pulls Alani’s chair out for her and pushes it back in once she’s seated. 

“Champagne?” he asks, nodding to the bar. 

“Oui, s'il vous plaît." 

He plants a kiss to the top of her head and makes his way to collect their drinks. Alani’s eyes follow the stringed lights overhead and she quickly realizes that they lead to a disco ball hanging above the center of the dance floor. Well done, Mila. She thinks to herself with an approving nod. The colors, she gathers, are lilac and periwinkle, incorporated into all of the floral arrangements and cloth details. They match the color of the sky above and Alani knows that the bride must be ecstatic over this detail. Harry returns with their drinks and sets them down gently onto the white tablecloth. 

“None of our fellow lovebirds have arrived yet, huh?” he muses, taking a sip of his champagne. 

Alani shakes her head and brings the glass to her lips. “Must be too busy making out in the parking lot,”

“You told me we didn’t have time for that.”

“I’m not gonna ruin my lipstick before we’ve even arrived.”

Harry shakes his fist to the sky and Alani giggles. They both admire the view and the children in the wedding party who are testing how close they can get to the water before an adult drags them away. The sky turns to a shade of cotton candy above them and someone announces that the bride and groom are arriving. Harry and Alani stand and welcome the newly weds with applause and whistles. Mila and Chad share a sweet kiss and the crowd goes wild. One man, most likely a friend of the groom, shouts “I love you Chad!” and laughter erupts. They take their seats and the rest of the wedding party follows suit, which means that the rest of the guests are free to return to their chatting and socializing. 

“I’m beginning to think we were put in the time out table.” Harry jokes when they are still not joined by any other guests. 

A light laugh escapes Alani’s lips and she looks around. “Yeah I guess so.”

The servers arrive with their meal and the pair eat happily, exchanging witty banter and observations of the scene around them. Harry sucks a piece of linguine between his lips and turns to Alani with a mischievous smirk. 

“No,” Alani says, already knowing what he’s up to. 

“Don’t leave me hangin’,”

 “Eat your food.”

“Alaniii,”

She shakes her head gently and rolls her eyes, but decides to indulge him anyway. Their lips meet in the middle of the shared noodle and Harry smiles. 

“Always wanted to try that.” 

A few moments later, he notices a card in the middle of the table and lifts it. 

“‘Trivia,’” he reads. “‘Test your knowledge of the bride and groom and win a prize.’ Let’s play, shall we?”

“What’s the first question?” Alani asks, peering over to read the small font. 

“‘What year did Mila and Chad meet?” 

Alani hums, thinking back to her previous conversation with the bride. “They met in law school, that’s all I know,”

“2009,” Harry guesses. “Who said ‘I love you’ first?”

“Definitely Chad,” she replies firmly. “Mila didn’t think she’d ever get married,”

“I thought you said you didn’t know these people,”

“I guess I was wrong,”

Harry squints at the next one. “What are their zodiac signs?”

“I wanna say Virgo for Mila,” Alani suggests. “Maybe… Aquarius for Chad?”

“That’s my sign,” Harry comments, writing down her guesses. 

Alani’s brows raise. “No kidding. Makes a lot of sense,”

“What’s yours?”

“Taurus,”

“I don’t know anythin’ about astrology. Are we compatible?”

“Probably not,” Alani teases. 

Harry shoots her a disapproving look and reads the next question. “Where did they go on their first date?”

“The movies,” she predicts. “Safe bet,”

“‘Akaka Falls,” Harry writes. “That was ours,”

Alani’s head tilts. “We weren’t even dating then,”

“Yeah but I was tryin’ to win you over, so it counts,”

“Sneaky.”

“Who is the bride’s celebrity crush?” Harry continues. “Hopefully not James Marsden or this guy’s fucked.”

Alani laughs and she pulls him in for a playful kiss to his cheek. The pink sunset dims into a deep navy and the stringed lights twinkle above, setting the whole scene in a romantic, golden glow. Guests walk past their table holding strips of photo booth pictures and Harry’s neck cranes to search for the source. His eyes land on a small line at the other end of the beach and he stands quickly. 

“Let’s go,”

“Where?”

“Photo booth!”

To Alani’s surprise it’s an actual booth, curtains and all, and not just some poor sucker tasked with operating a polaroid camera the whole night. They stand in line eagerly behind two groomsmen and brainstorm poses. Once they’re inside, Alani settles onto Harry’s knee and watches as he operates the machine. The screen counts down from ten and they decide to flash a proper smile for the first one. After it’s snapped, Harry sticks his tongue out and Alani widens her eyes in mock surprise. The third one is a candid, slightly blurry one of them laughing after she accidentally poked him in the eye. A lipstick kiss is stamped to Harry’s cheek in the fourth one, but the pair innocently look away in opposite directions. The fifth and final image captures their affection mid kiss. They swipe the two sets of photos and Alani awes, admiring the black and white film strip. Before they make it back to their table, Alani feels a hand on her arm. 

“Alani!” Mila beams. 

“Hi!” Alani greets, pulling the bride into a hug. “You look gorgeous,”

“I’m so glad you came! I love your dress,”

Mila turns her attention towards Harry and gives him a warm embrace, too. “You must be Harry! So nice to meet you,”

“Thank you for having us!” he says over the music. 

“I see you guys put the photo booth to good use,” Mila comments. “Now go dance! There’s an ipad next to the stage, just queue up your songs.”

Alani and Harry bid the bride farewell, but before they leave, Mila leans into Alani’s ear and whispers “he’s a hottie!” with a wink. They set their photos down inside Alani’s purse and Harry leads her towards the dance floor. She punches in her request and he secretly types the song that’s been stuck in his head all week. Fantasy by Mariah Carey is already playing when they reach the floor, so they join in excitedly. Alani’s hips sway and Harry’s head bobs, both of them mouthing the lyrics. The song fades and Alani’s pick begins, which makes the crowd roar. 

“The people have spoken and they love Whitney!” she cheers. 

Harry twirls her and shuffles his feet. Alani shimmies and sings along, the lyrics falling from her lips like a prayer. 

I wanna dance with somebody

I wanna feel the heat with somebody 

Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody 

With somebody who loves me 

The dance floor is flooded with bodies jumping and swaying, and the disco ball shimmers above the euphoric scene. Alani and Harry spin, making their way through the crowd and letting the music sweep over them like a magical spell. Beads of sweat form at the back of her neck and she lifts her wavy locks to let the ocean breeze cool her down, but her feet don’t stop moving. Eventually, her song peters out and a familiar guitar fills its place. 

“I love this song!” Alani cries, immediately recognizing The Cure. 

Harry pulls her closer, despite the warmth radiating from both of their bodies, and presses a passionate kiss to her lips. They are surrounded on every side, but in this very moment under the full moon and shimmering disco ball, Harry and Alani feel like the only two people alive. Their foreheads meet and they sway gently, his hands secure at her waist while her fingers toy with the hair at the base of his neck. 

It’s Friday, I’m in love. 

[slutforbuck]

Traveling Soldier Part 5 -- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Every day you took Bucky to a different place in Brooklyn, trying to spark more memories. Each place had a memory tied to it, today’s was the river. So many days you, Bucky, and Steve would go swimming in the river and have picnics. Bucky kept asking where you were taking him, and all you could do was smirk and reply with a “You’ll see!”

Finally you made it to your favorite spot, and pulled Bucky to sit. “This feels familiar. It’s so peaceful here.” You looked over to him while you pulled your shoes off, “The three of us would come here for picnics all the time. We would swim in the spring and summer.” You looked over your shoulder to the tree behind you. “There used to be a rope swing there. You and Steve would almost break your necks every summer trying to see who could get closest to the other side.” Smiling you remembered the simpler times, when you would spend your days sitting on the bank digging your toes into the sand, watching the boys making fools of themselves. Bucky stood and walked to the tree. Watching him intently, you saw him rub his hand against the trunk of the tree. He looked up into the branches and saw the frayed rope. He sat back next to you, “Tell me more.” You stood and waded into the water, “Right about here, you and Steve tried to fight. I was so worried that one of you were going to drown. I don’t even remember what it was that you two were fighting over. Steve tried to tackle you, but you were so much bigger than him. You pushed each other down and you were both under the water. I had to come try to pull you apart.” You had waded out till the water was around your waist. “You coming?” Bucky stared at you from the bank and shook his head. You waded back to the bank, “Come on. It’s not that bad.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the water. He sighed and stood. As he waded in, you noticed his eyes slightly glaze over. You held onto him, waiting for him to look at you. “Buck?” You whispered, worried. He shook his head, “Give me a minute.” He released your hand and swam to the opposite bank. You stood in the river, looking at him like he had lost his mind. He disappeared behind the trees, leaving you in the middle of the river. Sighing, you made your way back to the bank. Sinking to the ground, you dug your toes in the sand, just like you had when you three would come together. You propped yourself up on your arms and closed your eyes, losing yourself in thought. Water splashed your leg, and your eyes popped open. “Hey, come here.” You looked up at Bucky, shading your eyes from the sun. “I’m not swimming across that river.” Staring at you, he leant down and threw you over his shoulder. When you made it to the opposite shore, Bucky stood you up on the ground. “Now, come here. I want to show you something.” Placing your hand in his, you allowed him to lead you to a tree on the bank. “The last summer we were here, I came back here after I walked you and Steve home. I never thought the war would come here, I thought I would have more time..with you.” He pointed up the tree to a small carving. “I wanted us to have our own special spot for picnics. So I put our names in the tree, I remembered you saying how romantic you thought it was.” You looked up the tree, “Bucky and Y/n Barnes”. Slowly you looked back to him, “Y/n Barnes?” He pushed out a short breathy laugh and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I guess I got ahead of myself, yea?” Smiling you looped your arm through his, “I don’t think so. Just hopeful.” Bucky turned you and pulled you against his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head. Inhaling deeply, you tried to memorize this sweet moment. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and guided you towards home.

That night you laid on the couch, and watched as Bucky got his makeshift bed ready on the floor. “Hey Buck?” He propped up on his elbows and looked to you, “Yea?” “Are you adjusting okay? Is any of this helping?” He shot a half smile in your direction, “It’s helping most everything. The uh..the nightmares, I don’t think anything will help those.” Leaning over, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, “If you want to talk about them or anything, I’ll always be here.” Squeezing your hand he replied, “I know doll. Goodnight.”

You woke a few hours later to groans and soft yelling. Rubbing your eyes, you looked to the floor to see Bucky kicking the sheet off of him and punching at the air. “Buck? Bucky!” You slipped off the couch and onto the floor next to him. Dodging one of his punches, you scooted to sit at the top of his head. You played with his hair, hoping to ease him enough to wake him without causing him to panic. Slowly he began to calm, and you were able to make him wake up. “Bucky are you okay?” Your eyes were filled with worry as you helped him sit up. “I..I didn’t hurt you, did I?” You placed your hand on his, “No Buck. You didn’t answer my question. Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Continuing to stare into his blue eyes, which had turned stormy with the nightmare, you searched for emotion. “Maybe just some water?” You smiled as you got to your feet, “I’ll be right back.” When you returned, you saw him with his head in his hands. “Here Buck. Is there anything else? Anything that would make you more comfortable?” He downed the water quickly then looked to you. “Well..I mean I hate to ask..Do you think you might could lay with me? I know the floor isn’t very comfortable but—“ “Yes.” You had already grabbed your pillow and settled next to him before he could finish his thought. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You snuggled under his arm and placed one hand on his chest, “Anywhere you are is comfortable for me.” Softly kissing his lips you whispered, “I’ll be right next to you if you need me. Get some rest Buck.” Nodding, he laid back and wrapped his arms around you, bringing you closer to him.

The next few weeks, the two of you grew closer. Days were spent roaming the city, searching for old memories and making new ones. Your nights were spent curled up next to Bucky on the floor. You were able to transition him to the couch after a couple weeks, and eventually moved up to a stiff mattress that was placed on the floor in your bedroom. At lease once a week Bucky would go on a walk on his own, and would always bring back a bag of plums for himself and a bouquet of dahlias for you.

Bucky left this morning with his face deep in thought. He promised he'd be back around three that afternoon, so when five rolled around and he wasn’t back you began to worry. Hearing the rain pounding against the windows, you hoped that he was going to be home soon. You heard a sharp knock at the door, and you hurried over. When you opened the door, you saw Bucky soaked from head to toe, carrying a bag of plums and a drooping bouquet of dahlias. “Oh my gosh are you okay?! Where have you been?!” You frantically yanked him through the door frame and pushed him towards the bathroom. “Stop.” You froze, hearing the serious tone in his voice, and you turned to look at him. “Bucky you are soaking wet, and probably freezing. You need to get out of those clothes and take a warm bath.” The plums and flowers hit the floor as he closed the gap between the two of you. “B…Buck?” You stuttered, fearing that the Winter Soldier was back, and your Bucky was gone. Sensing your fear and worry, Bucky froze. “It’s me. I swear. I had to take a longer walk today. I needed to gain some confidence, I didn’t realize it would take so long. Or come off so..scary.” Puzzled you stared at him, “Confidence? For what?” Bucky smirked and pulled you flush with his body. Your breath hitched as he kissed down your neck, “For this.” A small moan escaped your lips as Bucky nipped at your neck. “Y..you really need to get out of those wet clothes Buck.” “I’ll get out of these wet clothes and take that warm bath if you do the same with me.” Your eyes went wide, surprised that he was being so forward. “Are you sure?” You didn’t know if he was even able to hear your whisper. He pulled away from you long enough to search your eyes to see if you were okay with what was happening. “Yes. I’m sure. Please?” Smiling you stepped to the bathroom to run the water.

You heard the door squeak open, and looked up to see Bucky. A small gasp made its way out, and you took in the six foot tall man standing in front of you. You wanted to look away, afraid that you shouldn't be staring, but you weren't able to look away from his beautiful body. Your eyes made their way to his face to see him smirking as he made his way to you. “Your turn.” He pulled you to your feet and began to peel your clothes off of you. He pulled you into his chest and brushed your hair away from the side of your face, “You are so beautiful.” You shuddered as he whispered in your ear, then pulled you into the tub after him. You settled between his legs, your back against his chest. Tilting your head back, you looked up at him. His head was laid back, a small smile plastered on his face, and his eyes were closed. You smiled at how content he looked. The two of you sat in silence until the water began turning cold. Bucky raised up and wrapped his arms around you and rested his face in your neck. “Could we stay like this forever?” You turned your head slightly to see his face, “In the tub or just…like this?” He kissed your forehead, “Just like this. Together. Happy. No fighting, no running, just..peaceful.” You smiled as you stepped out of the cold water and wrapped your body in a towel. “We can try Buck. Come to bed?” He stood, wrapping his lower half in a towel and following you to the bedroom. “Try?” “Well sweetheart, you’re going to have to go see Steve at some point, and you never know what’s going to happen with him.” You snuggled up to Bucky, eyes heavy. “Let’s get it over with then. Tomorrow?” “Mmmmm…..Sounds good Buck.” Bucky lightly kissed your lips, “Goodnight doll.” He looked down at you, eyes closed already, and smiled.

[miceenscene]

Fealty

female shepard/garrus vakarian | pwp | roleplay

wc: 8.9k

summary: Garrus & Shepard find some escapism in the midst of a war. | This is the product of listening to Rimsky’s Scheherazade too many times whilst pondering the inherent eroticism of blood oaths.

warnings: none, just sexy times galore

an: in this house, service switch Garrus hours are 24/7

ao3 | Masterlist

The Incident was an accident.

The Incident was an accident, and Garrus swore he would maintain that story to his dying day. It was not his fault that when Shepard really got him going sometimes odd things came out of his mouth. If anything, it was Shepard’s fault. Her and her flexible, strong, smooth body did unspeakable things to him that he really couldn’t rationally explain outside of the moment.

The night of The Incident, they’d started in the elevator, cautious at first then building as it became clear no one would interrupt them, then shedding armor carelessly in the hallway just outside her quarters. They’d made it to the desk at least for the first round. Then half a round against the fishtank, till finally she had him pinned down on the bed. His hands gripped her waist, following her rhythms eagerly, as she found her pleasure on top of him. She was warm and clenching around him as his head swam with Shepard.

There was a phenomenon that Garrus had long since noticed, beginning really from the first time they ‘blew off steam’. In the run up to Shepard’s peaks, he found himself… needing, craving, desperate to give her what she desired. Probably some combination of turian martial instinct–she was still the commander of the ship he served on, even if she claimed she wasn’t his commander anymore–and plain attraction to the woman herself. As well as his own perfectionist tendencies. If he was going to do a job, he wanted to do it The Best… and apparently that also applied to giving Shepard orgasms.

And it was somewhere in the middle of this phenomenon that it happened. The Incident. Shepard was close, close enough for them both to taste it. And she gave him an order, deeper more right there. And, as he happily obeyed, it just came out of his mouth in a soul-deep rumbling groan.

“Yes, your majesty.”

There was half a second before they both heard what he’d just said. Then it clicked. Glass shattered in the forefront of Garrus’ mind as a thousand warning lights suddenly started flashing.

Meanwhile, Shepard paused, teetering on her edge, and looked down at him. Her face was flushed, chest heaving with exertion, eyes over-bright. “What did you–”

It was a dirty move, but to distract her, Garrus pressed his thumb to her clit and canted his hips just so, shoving her into bliss with a loud exclamation. She pulled him down with her, both of them shuddering and swearing in each other’s arms.

His afterglow, however, was undercut with a strong tint of embarrassment. Luckily, nothing seemed to have bothered Shepard, who melted on top of him with her head resting on his chest. He trailed a few talons between her shoulder blades, making her hum and relax even more. Maybe she’d drift straight off to sleep, and in the morning his stupid mouth would be back under control.

But she shifted to the side into the waiting crook of his arm and molded around him in the usual, seemingly physically impossible for how perfect it was, way. “I should go clean up,” she sighed after another few minutes of quiet, stretching leisurely.

He hummed an agreement, relaxing now that it seemed his little outburst had been forgotten. “I’ll take care of the sheets,” he replied, nuzzling a kiss to the top of her head.

“Thank you,” she murmured, returning the kiss to the front of his carapace. With a soft smile, she got up. His hand traced the line down from her shoulder to her wrist to the tips of her fingers before she was out of reach. He admired the languid lines of her figure as she retreated, the bathroom door hissing shut behind her.

That was a close one.

Though he really should have known that his dodging skills were not that great. Or rather, Shepard’s ability to lay in wait should never be underestimated. Reckoning came a few evenings later. They were back in Shepard’s quarters again, but this time both reading through reports on her couch. Shepard liked to lean back against him and wrap his arm across her torso. Garrus liked it too because it was easy to lean over and stroke his mandible over her silky hair occasionally.

They’d been diligent for nearly three hours now, wading through the mounting horrors of war, but Garrus felt his eyes start to glaze over as he opened the next report from the Hierarchy. He blinked a few times to bring himself back into focus, only for it to happen less than two minutes later. Alright, perhaps it was time to call it a day.

His focus shifted to Shepard, a few tempting ideas popping up in the back of his mind. He brushed her hair to one shoulder so he could nuzzle a kiss to the other side of her neck. She hummed and her hand brushed the side of his face, but he didn’t have her full attention yet. That would have to change. He trailed the tip of his tongue up the side of her neck, up to her ear and over the shell of it, making the muscles in her core clench.

“Done already?” she asked, her voice just slightly airy.

“Done for tonight,” he rumbled. His hand covered hers on the datapad, updated casualty estimates from Earth. The numbers just never stopped growing. “You should be too.” She let him take the pad from her, setting it down on the coffee table, before laying back with her head in his lap.

“Perhaps you have a point.” Mentally setting aside the unfixable, she gave him a tired smile. “Did you want to go to bed? ...Orrr?”

“I’m a turian, Shepard. I’m pretty much always up for ‘orrr’.”

She laughed quietly and sat up to straddle his lap, arms resting on his shoulders and making his subvocals start to rumble at her proximity.

“How about you?” he asked, returning to his earlier work on her neck and sliding his hands across her waist. “Are you up for ‘orrr’?”

She hummed and leaned into his ministrations. “That depends.”

He really should have seen the trap, but he was too focused on trailing talon tips up the shallow valley of Shepard’s spine to see it at the time. “On?”

“Are you going to call me ‘your majesty’ again?”

Crap.

He froze, hands under her shirt, mouth open on her neck. “You heard that?”

“Yes, Garrus. I do tend to hear what you proclaim when you’re inside me.” She pulled back, making him look at her. “You mind explaining that one to me?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing, forget it.” And he tried to duck back in to distract her again, but she moved back once more.

“It’s not nothing. I saw your face as you said it…” There was a teasing light in her eyes, coupled with a similar smirk across her lips. “Oh, come on. Remember I was the one who pitched that whole ‘let’s pretend we’re having a first date’ thing?”

“There’s a difference between faking the date we never got and… this.”

“I don’t mind taking things a step away from reality… seems almost a necessity these days.” Her eyes half-turned towards where the datapad still lay.

That was a solid point. But some deep shameful part of him clenched at owning up to this particular non-reality. Her teasing look dimmed as he didn’t budge a metaphorical inch. Thank the spirits, it seemed like she might let this go. But he was caught off-guard when she cupped his face in her hands.

“There is nothing you could tell me about yourself that would make me love you less. You know that right?”

He flinched from how deeply she struck. Consciously, yes. He trusted her when she said she loved him. The subconscious application was… tricky at times to prove that it had been completely accepted. Not all the time, just rare instances. Like right now.

He nodded. “I know.”

“Okay. Good.” She tipped her forehead to rest it against his. He was the luckiest damn turian in the entire galaxy. And he loved her just as much; he hoped she knew even though he hadn’t said it just yet.

She smiled softly as she sat back. “You don’t have to tell me the explanation if you don’t want to. But…” She shrugged and moved off his lap, sitting on the couch next to him and picking back up her datapad. “If you did, maybe I could… play along.”

The last two words came out just a touch rougher around the edges, sending a fizzing thrill to his gut and calling his bluff all at the same time. Just like she’d no-doubt intended. A whole new host of tempting ideas popped up in the back of his mind, their sum total enticing enough to overwhelm the shame.

He was actually going to do this.

“How… much do you know about turian history?” he asked slowly, picking up his own datapad in a feigned casual manner to have something to look at.

“Very little.”

“Well, it’s not as much turian history as… turian historical fiction.” He sucked in a breath for the strength to power through to the end of the explanation. “A… scandalous novel I read as a young recruit. Set during the unification wars, about a warlord and… her right-hand warrior.”

He could feel her gaze land on him, but he maintained focus on the words-turned-unparsable-shapes of his datapad. Embarrassment singed the back of his neck as silence filled the room. His first instinct was right; this was a silly fantasy, best kept to himself and not shared with someone whose respect he craved like Shepard’s.

He heard her shift and then her hand was under his chin, tilting his head to look up at her. His breath caught in his upper chest when he met her eyes. She’d stood, making her taller than he was from where he was sitting. Her posture was taught, like on the battlefield, yet somehow tempting at the same time. Strength and power radiated from her. A smile hinted in her eyes, but her mouth was set into a stoic line.

“Do you want me to be your queen, Garrus?” she asked in a low voice that shifted like sand under a desert wind.

“Yes.”

One dune after another, the horizon seemed as far now at dusk as it had been at dawn. Always dancing and shifting, no matter how steadfastly the General moved towards it. The glaring suns had beat unrelenting against his helmet all day, scorching his armor and the sand beneath him. But as they slipped beneath the horizon, he finally caught sight of his destination in the far distance. A camp of tents lay in the shadow of the mesa, spotted with torchlight and waving flags of red and black.

A small flurry of alarm kicked up at his approach to the camp, then stilled as he was recognized by the watch. His men greeted him warmly, but the General didn’t slow. He headed straight for the largest tent at the dead middle of the camp, trimmed in gold with two guards at the entrance. Momentum pulled him inside the tent where he finally stopped, removing his helmet and falling to one knee on the sumptuous rug across the floor.

It was scent that whispered of her arrival, more than sound or sight. Cool jasmine with the slight tang of tempered steel drifted towards him, surrounded him, familiar and intoxicating. Then the soft drag of a silk robe across carpet met his ears, followed by her voice, low and calm as a viper.

“You have returned, General Vakarian.”

“Yes, my Queen,” he answered.

“Rise and report.”

He stood and breath caught in his chest as he finally saw her, his Queen. Every time he saw her, it was first her eyes that captivated him, green as a forest and piercing as a dagger. Her waist-length crimson hair was loose, brushed to gleaming over one shoulder, and she was wrapped in a deep blue robe. She appeared unarmed, perhaps even vulnerable to the untrained eye. But he knew her better than that. She was dangerous, yet all the more beguiling for it.

At his prolonged silence, she lifted a single brow and turned to a small table at the opposite side of the tent that bore a pitcher and a few silver goblets. The General opened the bag he’d carried for days now and placed a sealed scroll on the wide table in the center of the room on which a large map was unfurled.

“As you requested, Lord Tulius has been removed. His head decorates the gates to his city.”

She didn’t pause her calm movements, pouring two goblets before turning back to face him. “And?”

“The new Lord has sworn five hundred soldiers when we ride on Gerou next month.”

She neared, jasmine and steel surrounding him once more, but she did not offer the second goblet. “And?”

“And Ardaraka will also be joining with one hundred archers and sending tribute.”

Her mouth remained steady, but an approving light shone in her eyes as she held out the goblet to him. The wordless approval rested on his brow brighter than any crown. He took the goblet carefully, gloved fingers brushing hers for a moment. Never looking away from the other, they both sipped the wine. Spices blossomed on his palette, heady and strong.

“Your work is always exemplary, General,” she said, stepping around him. Her shoulder just brushed his as she passed, burning him through his armor. “But this is to be commended.” She rounded the table and took another thoughtful sip as she sat down in the chair at the head. “Such efforts should not go unrewarded. Tell me what prize you would accept, and it shall be granted to you.”

She was a woman of her word. Up to half her kingdom could be granted to him if he but asked for it. As it was–

“There is only one prize that I desire.”

Her eyes locked to his, gaze as scorching as the suns and twice as rich. Then she set her cup down and relaxed back in the chair, a smile finally playing on her lips.

“Come and claim it then.”

Wasting no precious time, the General shed his gloves and rounded the table to stand before his Queen, eyes boring into hers, smoldering hot enough to catch flame. She offered up her hand, which he took in his, smoothing a thumb over her battle-calloused fingers before pressing a kiss to the knuckles.

“I swear to guard my Queen from harm and, with either my life or my death, ensure her continued dominion,” he whispered, repeating part of the oath he’d taken so many years ago. The solemn vow was carved on his spirit, the ethos of his life from that day onward. He turned her hand over and kissed her palm, then her wrist, feeling her steady pulse on his mouth plates. “Until my Queen releases me, death takes me, or the world ends.”

When he looked back to her face, her lips were slightly opened, eyes wide and utterly enraptured. Deep satisfaction suffused through him at the sight. Glimpses of the woman behind the crown were rare, and he coveted them jealously. For as assuredly he would follow her into death, some naive part of him longed to share her life even more. The awed warmth of her gaze kindled something deep inside him, something precious and pure. Something to be thought of only in the most private of moments and not yet voiced. Perhaps never to be spoken, only shown.

He knelt before her, basking in her rapt attention. With great care, he reached for her ankle, palm sliding up the smooth skin of her calf before stopping at her knee, which he lifted and placed on his shoulder as he moved in closer–submerging himself in jasmine and steel. Pulling her robe open, he found her completely bare underneath save for an encrusted dagger that was wrapped in a holster about her thigh.

He’d given the dagger to her not long after he came into her service. The reminder of how close she kept it on her person still sent a low shudder down his spine. Never unarmed that was his Queen, he mused, subvocals starting to purr. He traced the leather strap first with his fingers, then his mouth plates before drifting upwards and pulling her closer.

This near, her clearest scent filled his lungs–rich as earth, complex and mouth-wateringly bitter. Her thighs resting on his shoulders and his hands on her hips, he stared up at her in both wonder and desire. Her usual stoic front was holding strong for the moment, but he could see something stirring beneath her surface. He held there, waiting for the final permission. She granted it in a silent nod.

Not looking away, he kissed her center, making her eyes flutter shut momentarily. But she quickly regained her composure. It was always a battle with her, a testing of wills–he wouldn’t have it any other way. Determined, he delved deeper, still holding her eyes for as long as he could. Her hand rested at the back of his head, fingers just brushing his most sensitive area as he found hers. The sinews in her neck clenched as he circled and lapped, pushing and teasing her till she yielded for him. It came as his tongue slipped inside her warmth. Her eyes shut, mouth dropped half-open, and her hand on his head clenched, nails biting at his skin. A half-strangled gasp met his ears, sweeter than symphonies, rousing his own desire with its call.

Now it wasn’t a battle, but a crusade. Or perhaps a gauntlet, a test of his mastery of her pleasure. He never wanted to just satisfy her, to just sate her. He wanted to ruin her. To make every other partner pale in comparison. None could eclipse her in his eyes. It felt an honest, if perhaps hopeless, endeavor to strive for the same honor from her.

He pulled away from her, earning a low whimper of protest from his Queen that kicked his subvocals rumbling even lower. But he didn’t move far. His thumb circled over her center, drawing her attention, till he nipped the sensitive inner skin of her thigh. Her hips bucked at change in sensation, muscles rippling under his palms. He apologized with a swipe of his tongue, though he knew it would leave a mark. A reminder of his presence just for her.

Her other hand gripped his shoulder, a burning beacon that she was close to her end. He could retreat now, suffer her temporary wrath, for another valiant run for glory. Some nights, she let him indulge himself, bringing her closer and closer to her edge without letting her fall over. But her hand on the back of his head pulled him back to her center. No, she was not to be toyed with tonight. So he gladly surrendered to her will. Not replacing his finger, he dipped his tongue back inside her.

It took only two coordinated strokes before she fell, shuddering and clenching and gasping. She pulled him so close, curling over him as if to blur the boundaries between his being and hers. Tension shattered through her core, her limbs, stacking to insurmountable heights. Till, like a candle flame, it vanished, leaving only boneless, radiating warmth in its absence.

His Queen dropped against the back of the chair, hands relaxing their grip on him but not moving away. Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to rewrite her composure. Though before she completely succeeded, a blissful smile spread across her lips. He wished he could save it somehow, tuck it away in a cedar box at the bottom of his armory, where it would be safe and cherished as long as he drew breath.

She swallowed and let out a low hum of contentment that settled in the back of his skull. “Commendable, General,” she said, her voice smoky as torch light. “As always.”

“It is my honor, your majesty.”

“Yes, it is.” The corners of her lips tugged in amusement but didn’t spread wide again.

His subvocals rolled with his unquenched thirst, perhaps she could feel them from where his palms slid down her hips. He pulled her silk robe back into place before retreating reluctantly, standing and stepping back from her throne. She offered her hand again, which he happily took and helped her stand.

“Such… valiant effort on behalf of my realm deserves more than one reward, don’t you agree?”

He tipped his head in deference, deep parts of him agreeing with her far more vehemently. “If you wish to honor me more, who am I to deny you?”

She stepped towards him, close but not touching. Jasmine and steel surrounded him again, sending his core muscles clenching. Her chin lifted, tilting her face as if she wished to kiss him. Like a comet, he was pulled helplessly into her orbit. But she did not meet him. She, instead, hovered a hair’s breadth apart. His control shuddered as he held there with his hands clasped behind his back, knuckles paling for the effort.

After several tense seconds, her gaze met his, curiosity and something like satisfaction in her eyes. “You would deny me nothing, would you?”

“Nothing,” he repeated in a fervent whisper. His plates were starting to itch from how close yet far she was. But he refused to move till she gave him leave.

She pulled away yet rewarded his restraint with the backs of her fingers stroking along his scarred mandible. Though he couldn’t help but lean into the touch, brushing a kiss to her knuckles as her hand dropped away. He was only mortal.

“Come.” She offered her hand and led him away from the table. There was a curtained doorway that divided the war room from her sleeping quarters of the tent. She pulled back the thick fabric and stepped inside, inviting him into her most private space.

The room was not overly large, nothing like her chambers back in her fortress. Her armor, spear, and shield were displayed proudly next to the entrance. There was a space for bathing and dressing. A smaller table for her own use tucked in the corner. But the room was dominated by the large bed in the center. Not four postered and curtained like in her ancient estate by the sea, a bedroll made for travel but still strewn with cushions and luxurious enough for royalty. The scent of her hovered in the room like incense. A few candles in the corners were the only source of light, casting soft shadows around the edges of her figure.

Once inside, she didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, her nimble fingers travelled up his arm, removing vambraces and pauldrons with practiced ease. She untied his cuirass from around his carapace, fingertips brushing against his sides, before setting it carefully aside with the other pieces. When strapped with his armor and weapons, he hardly noticed the weight of them anymore. But as she pulled off each piece, breath came easier to him, though he wasn’t sure if it was relief or anticipation that filled his lungs so readily. Every plate of steel gone felt like a skin removed, stripping away the mantle of General to leave behind just him for her.

She went to remove his greaves, moving to kneel before him, when he reflexively stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She shouldn’t– But her eyes snapped up to him, sharp and flinty.

Would you deny me this?

No, he would not. So he pulled his hand back, humbled by the rare view and trying to deny how the unique angle stirred up memories filled with desire.

She pulled off the last of his armor and then rose, her half-smile distracting him from her hand till it dragged up his completely spread plates over his pants. That made him flinch and suck in a sharp breath, sparks leapt onto the crumbling tower of his composure.

“Too much?” she asked in a low voice. His eyes opened to find her looking at him intensely, brows flickering just towards each other.

He shook his head. “Never.”

She repeated the action, but he was ready for her this time. The gentle pressure emanated out through his whole person, making his subvocals sputter and stop for a moment. He was absolutely weeping in his sheath, but she stopped before it became too much.

With just one hand at his waist, the sensation muted from his underclothes but knee-buckling all the same, she urged him to sit on the foot of her bed. He was closer to her face this way, giving him a chance to admire the sharp line of her jaw, how her eyes were inky black haloed with thin green. She was breathtaking on the field and away.

Breaking all contact with him, she edged into the space between his knees, commanding his complete attention without a word. Not letting him look away, she loosened the tie of her robe. It slipped off her shoulders and pooled on the ground, leaving her only in her dagger. He found an anchor in the silk sheets beneath him, talons gripping the fabric for dear life. Her eyes proclaimed proudly that she knew exactly what the sight of all of her was doing to him. His gaze greedily swept over her figure, like a bandit discovering a pirate’s hoard, taking in the exotic curves and admiring the few pale scars. The need to put his hands on her and pull her close scalded his palms. He longed to kiss every freckle that dotted her skin, to hear her gasp his name as he buried himself inside her. She let him admire for a few breathless moments, but twisted the dagger when she lifted her holstered leg to rest her foot on his knee.

“Would you help me, General?” she asked calmly, as if asking for him to bring her the weather reports.

He swallowed, hard. Then again. No, growling subvocals would not allow words she could understand now. So he instead simply obeyed, unwinding the leather strap before pulling it through the buckle. His hands only trembled slightly, but stilled as the steadying weight of the dagger dropped into his palm. He offered it to her, pride shoring him up as he persevered under her visual onslaught.

She took it from him and turned away, long hair tossing over her shoulder and brushing against his face for just a moment. “Would you want some Aephusian Ale?” she asked, sashaying away with a pronounced hip swing that he could not ignore. “I know how much you enjoy it.”

“Of course,” he rumbled, dropping his gaze away from her to gain his bearings more. A few deep breaths cleared his head enough for her return, proffering a dark glass bottle. His attention could not be afforded anywhere but on her as he took a sip, not quite paying attention till the taste registered.

Garrus blinked. “This… this is actually Aephusian Ale,” he said, looking down at the bottle in his hand. It tasted exactly like the drink in the book. Spirits, where had Shepard found this?

“Of course it is,” his Queen said in a low voice, pulling him back in as she stepped closer. “You think I don’t know my best General’s favorite drink?”

He smiled softly up at her. “I am humbled by your attentions,” the General replied.

She moved even closer, nearly touching him now. He could feel the warmth radiating lowly off her skin. It grew stronger as she leaned towards him, head angling once again for a kiss. And like before, she stopped a grain of sand away, though this time a strangled whine snuck up the back of his throat before he quickly cut it off.

A gloating look floated through her eyes. “Your orders are to retreat, General.”

Unsure precisely what she meant, he frowned slightly up at her. She waved her hand and it clicked. It wasn’t graceful, but he moved backwards across the bed, only stopping when the back of his carapace met the cushions already set up to support him. As if to make up for his lack of coordination, his Queen prowled towards him, a hungry look simmering in her eye. Feeling trapped in the very best way, he set aside the ale.

She crawled all the way up to straddle his lap, dropping herself the last inch and expelling a soft groan from his gut at the sudden contact. But it transformed in a low growl as she rocked her hips, rubbing her sodden center over his sheath. His swollen cock begged to be released, trapped by her and his pants, and her steady, eddying pressure was delicious torture. But she was nefarious and brutal, his Queen, and she reminded him of that as her arms wound around his shoulders, fingers trailing up his neck to the skin under his fringe. He could have borne the burden without complaint had she not also dipped her head and finally pressed that craved kiss not to his mouth but to his vulnerable throat.

That finally broke him.

“Please,” he bit out, head dropped back in utter submission. “Please, your majesty.”

She kissed his neck once, twice more, and then bit down. It wasn’t enough to leave a mark through his skin, but his whole body jerked, jostling her and halting her slow grinding. Without any rush, she lifted herself up off his lap to meet his eyes, a palm smoothing down his fringe.

“Yes, General? Is there something you desire?” she asked in that same calm voice.

“You.” His subvocals were shredded with clawing need. “Always you.”

Hands cradling his face, she tilted his head forward enough to press her brow to his in a turian kiss. The simple yet profound gesture blew right through simple carnal desire, landing square in the deep unspeakable truth at his very core. Eyes shut, he pressed up against her as fervently as the angle would allow, letting his subvocals sing with the words he didn’t dare to utter.

She pulled back for a moment, soothing fingers brushing along his mandibles, then leaned back in, lips so close to his mouth. But this time, she whispered, “Kiss me.”

And he did, surging forward to claim her mouth with his. After so much build-up and denial, it rapidly deepened to something needy and demanding. Technique and skill were completely abandoned in favor of pure sensation. He needed her tongue tangled with his, her breath in his lungs. Oh, though it was so blissfully wonderful to taste her again, it was not enough. Nothing less than all of her would suffice.

“Please, my Queen,” he rumbled, tracing his mandible along the smooth line of her jaw. “I need you. Please.”

She kissed him once more, rising up on her knees to break the pressure on his waist and tilt his head back as far as it would go. Her hand rested on his throat, fingertips tracing small circles on either side and pulling uncontrollable shudders from him with every small movement.

“I’m already yours. Take me,” she whispered with a slight smile.

She obviously had not been prepared for his attack as she let out a small cry when he flipped their positions, tossing her back on the bed with as much care as he could muster. It turned into a breathless chuckle as he pulled away just long enough to wrench his trousers off. A deep groan left him as he was finally freed from his sheath, relief sparkling down his spine and numbing the back of his skull.

“Can always count on you to be ready for battle,” she mused.

He had plans to remove his shirt too and possibly say something witty back. But all thoughts were driven from his head as he caught a glimpse of his Queen completely splayed on the bed, dark eyes taking in his figure, her hand sliding down her stomach with obvious intent. He caught it before it reached its destination, pressing another quick kiss to her pulse. She groaned softly at being interrupted.

“I would deny you nothing, your Majesty. But it is my honor to be the only one to please you this evening,” he purred, nipping a kiss to her collarbone.

“Then what are you waiting for?” She sounded annoyed, though there was a telling glimmer in her eyes that spoke otherwise. He lifted one of her legs into the crook of his elbow and leaned forward, just enjoying the low whimpers she made as he rocked through her heat.

“Absolutely nothing.” And he kissed her again as he finally joined with his Queen. Twin groans floated through the air of the tent as he immediately set a deep and thorough pace. Her clenching heat around him demanded his full attention, everything else but her disappeared from his mind. Her tongue tangled with his, and her fingers trailed down his fringe.

He kissed every inch of her skin that he could reach, running his tongue along her throat, nuzzling mandibles across her shoulders. She returned the favor with her own kisses up his neck, though his steady rhythm stuttered when she bit him again. Spirits, she knew him too well. Though he knew her just the same, and so he left his own nips along her collarbones, the base of her neck, anywhere that could be hidden by her armor. The evidence of their love was just for their knowledge.

Her low swears and strangled groans were the sweetest tune he’d ever heard. But he wanted the full symphony. An honest-to-the-gods whimper escaped her throat when he stilled and pulled back. Oh. He’d proudly wear that as a medal of honor on his breast if she could mint it.

“I’m not leaving,” he promised breathlessly. He lifted her hips and slid a cushion underneath, changing the angle of their meeting. “Still good?”

She clenched her inner muscles around him with a smirk.

“Fuck,” he groaned in answer to his own question.

“You have not yet been relieved of duty, Gen–” The end of her word changed into a deep moan as he rocked once, testing the new arrangement on his knees. Holding her open with his grip on her leg, he moved again, enjoying thoroughly watching the collision ripple through her body and hearing the echoes in her voice. Her hands stretched out for him but failed to reach their mark as he pressed the pad of his thumb to her clit, circling in the pattern he knew she liked best. She went fully lax, granting him full command over her pleasure.

“Look at me,” he pleaded, more subvocal than voice. But she obeyed. She demanded his continual gaze with hers, and neither looked away as he drove them steadily to their peak. Her acquiescence to his strategy started to crumble, however, as they drew close. A hand found purchase on his hip, pulling him closer, deeper, More. He eagerly surrendered what advantages distance allowed him in movement for the feeling of tucking his face against her neck.

Her cries abruptly spiked in pitch, and he just managed to catch her mouth with his for one last kiss before she reached bliss. Her body shuddering in his arms, and her slick heat clenching around him finished him off. Gratification shot down his spine, white hot and addictingly pure. He held tight to her, muscles locking as he convulsed once, twice, three times. Then every bit of tension in his body evaporated, all thought reducing to a rich blissfulness, thick enough to float away in.

A five-fingered hand rested on the back of his neck, stroking slowly up and down. Reflexes drunk-slow, he opened his eyes to find his Queen half-beneath him, looking nearly as relaxed as he felt. She caught his eye and a slow smile spread across her face, growing so fond it bubbled up into a low affectionate laugh. He pressed his brow to hers, a hand slipping into her hair, and laughed with her.

The air between them was saturated with the Unspoken. But it could barely be anymore blatantly stated than in his every small kiss upon her cheek. Every adjustment of limbs so they fit together even neater than before. Every slowing breath they shared as more one than two.

Her hand insinuated itself between his tunic and the small of his back, stroking his spine before tugging on the shirt.

“Remove this,” she murmured, eyes half open. “Your Queen demands it.”

“I don’t want to harm you,” he replied lowly, a hand smoothing over her bare hip.

“Do you think I’m as fragile as that?”

He shook his head. “Not fragile… precious.”

That wide eyed, awed look returned to her face, so wholly honest it took his breath away for a moment. Then she moved, crawling over him and kissing him once before pulling him up to sitting. She removed his tunic and then wrapped him in a long hug. The steady presence of her skin on his was centering in a way he couldn’t quite describe. The world, the galaxy fell into balanced order every time.

He hummed as she kissed his neck, slowly, luxuriously. Desire stirring slightly with the delicate attentions. She made her way leisurely up the length, pressing a final kiss to the side of his head then whispering, “You are so precious to me.”

His breath caught in his chest, but she didn’t pull away. More kisses made their way down his mandible then meeting his mouth in gentle caresses. She cradled his head in her arms, a hand brushing down his fringe.

“I don’t know where I’d be without you.” The look in her eyes was so fervently honest, he couldn’t do anything but stare up at her. The lines between Shepard and his Queen blurring till he wasn’t sure which one continued speaking. “I owe you my life more times over than I can ever repay. I never want to know what life is like without you at my side.”

His hands slid up her spine to pull her down for another kiss, adamant and just shy of bruising. “You’ll never have to know,” he swore to her, brow pressed to hers. “Not while it’s in my power. You’ll never know.”

She nodded and kissed him again, her breath shaking for reasons unrelated to the need in his touch. Her hands roved his body, finger tips slipping between plates, palms over his waist, while her mouth stayed steady on his. But there was no teasing in her touch this time, just devotion so pure it humbled him to receive it.

“Let me show you,” she whispered before kissing him deeply. “Please.”

He nodded, and her kisses drifted down his neck, across his cowl and down his carapace. Every muscle in his body clenched as he finally realized her intention. She stopped and looked up at him, but he was already nodding when her gaze met his. It turned warm and fond, and she settled on her stomach between his legs, pressing a chaste kiss to his hip.

He hadn’t reemerged from his sheath yet, though his plates were still fully relaxed. However, as she started drawing slow designs with her fingertips across his waist, he could already feel the efficacy in her small gestures. The sight of her was transfixing, hypnotic. Every puff of warm breath across his most sensitive skin electrified him.

As she kissed him, an unstoppable moan dropped from his mouth. She smiled up at him and kept at her work, persistent and skilled. Every time after, he swore to himself that he’d exaggerated in his memory how good her mouth felt on him. And every time, she proved him wrong. It took no time at all till he slid out and directly into her waiting mouth. It was so perfect, it seared.

“Shepard,” he moaned, talons gripping the bed underneath him for dear life. She pulled back, giving him a break from the onslaught.

“Too much?” she asked. He looked down and nearly moaned again, shuddering instead. A slight blush had formed over her cheeks, and her hand was resting loosely at his base.

“You have ruined me… for anyone but you… my Queen,” he said in reply.

She smirked. “Good.” You’re mine. And she approached again less directly, slight kisses, gentle passes with her tongue. He willfully surrendered to her, focusing on her touch, her presence.

It always felt an honor to receive such… attention from one such as her. But right now, it felt more a gesture of trust. She could trust him to give her only what she desired. And whole-heartedly, he felt the very same. Her moaning while his length buried as deep as she could take him nearly brought him to his metaphorical knees. He’d follow her anywhere, even to his own blissful end, which she seemed very determined to deliver him to. But perhaps–

He rested a hand on her shoulder, whining at both the sight and feel of her soft mouth sliding up his length. It made his thoughts scatter like sand under a gale wind.

“Together,” he managed, swallowing hard to try and control his roiling subvocals. “I want… together. Please?”

She smiled and kissed his tip, sending one last jolt through his system, before retreating. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He had to literally shake sense back into his head before he could move from where she’d left him. “Come here,” he said, shifting up to his knees and stumbling forward for the effort.

“You alright?” Her voice bobbed in amusement.

“Like I said, you ruined me.” He took her hand and pulled her close, kissing her once, then again for good measure. Then he moved behind her, pulling her back to his front.

“Oh,” she said slowly as he rocked between her thighs. His subvocals sang in agreement. She smelled so good–salt and jasmine and them. She was so warm already. The thought that pleasuring him ignited her in the best way burned up the last of his patience.

He pulled her hair aside and nibbled a kiss to her neck. “I want you,” he breathed against her ear.

“Please,” she whispered back. She guided him inside her, both of them letting out a long slow breath at their joining. His hands roved her body, smoothing across hips and circling her breasts, as he encouraged her to sit back into his lap. They weren’t joined as deeply as before, but this angle always brushed against her most sensitive places with the slightest of movement. An advantage he exploited to immediate benefits.

Rocking together felt more natural than breathing. Her hands intertwined with his, pressing one down between her legs and the other to her breast. He gave her the pressure she desired gladly and continued whispering a low growl in her ear.

“You don’t understand how thoroughly you have ruined me for anyone that isn’t you. I couldn’t want my own kind anymore even if I tried.”

She answered with a wordless cry, her spine undulating in a way that should have been physically impossible and was so alluringly easy for her. Still he kept up the rhythm, subvocals purring at how perfect she felt against him, around him.

“How could anyone measure up after I’ve had you? My Queen… my Commander.”

She shuddered and moaned, a hand reaching back to grip his neck. “Your voice–Gar–General–”

“That’s it, my Queen. Focus on me and let go.” He let loose a subvocal rumble loud enough that she had to hear it. Her answering cry echoed around the tent.

They hadn’t been particularly quiet up to this point, and their involvement was a poorly kept secret. Still, the thought of any guard just outside hearing her right now, knowing what she sounded like in rapture. He caught her mouth with his, swallowing her cry and turning it to whimpers.

“No one but me gets to hear you like this tonight.”

“Yes, Garrus.”

The sound of his real name pleaded so desperately shot straight to his core, immediately imploding. He pressed his brow to hers and circled his fingers on her clit, making her kiss him again to moan in response.

“Garrus–General. General, please. I–”

“I’m here. I’ll always be right here,” he vowed solemnly, meaning it as truly as the Unspoken.

She sobbed, the hand on his neck sliding up to scrape dull nails across the skin under his fringe. He throbbed inside her, his own release having snuck up on him in his focus on her.

“With me?” she asked, her voice tight and desperate.

“Always.”

And with a kiss they fell over the edge together.

It was several minutes later that Garrus opened his eyes to a world made entirely of red hair. The two of them had simply slipped sideways on the bed, still intertwined with each other. Shepard before him was breathing steadily, slowly.

He pressed a kiss to the back of her head. “You alright?”

She nodded. “I need a quick break though,” she said, her words slurring slightly.

“Me too.” He pulled away enough to turn her onto her back and stretched out next to her. For a few minutes, he just admired her face, fingers combing through her hair till it laid flat on the bed.

“How did you make it so much longer?” he asked quietly.

She reached up into her hair and something snapped, then a section of the long hair came out.

“That’s… not yours?” he asked, more than a little bewildered.

“Well, it’s mine in that I own it. But I didn’t grow this hair, no.” She repeated the process a few more times, removing all the pieces from her scalp till just her usual shoulder length hair remained.

“That’s… disturbing.”

“I wanted to be authentic,” she replied with a shrug. “You liked it till you knew.”

He grunted, not wanting to agree, and reached for his long-abandoned bottle. “Speaking of authentic, how did you find actual Aephusian Ale in the middle of a war?”

She turned to her stomach and grinned. “You can find many things when you’re as powerful a queen as I am.”

He laughed and took a sip, savoring the unique flavors of the brew. “Do you want your mead? It’s back on the desk.”

“Yeah, I’ll get it.” She rolled away and hopped up the stairs to her office. He couldn’t help but admire how her curves were highlighted in the low glow from the fishtank and the one candle they’d dared on the coffee table. A slow smile spread across her face when she noticed him staring on her return.

“See something you like?” she purred, kneeling down next to him.

He wrapped an arm around her waist. “I see many things I like.”

She chuckled and sipped her drink, a hand idly stroking along his fringe. A turian could die happy like this, he thought, drinking his ale.

“Anything I can do different?” she asked after a minute. “Should the Queen be more aloof?”

He looked up at her and shook his head. “You’re perfect.”

Her slow smile returned. “You make a damn fine General, Vakarian.”

He chuckled. “Anything for my Queen.” Her smile changed to something more coy, nearly shy. Then he realized– “You like being my Queen, don’t you?”

A pink tint spread across the tops of her cheeks as she refused to look at him, taking another long sip instead. He set his ale down on the floor and sat up to nuzzle a kiss to her neck.

“It’s not so strange, is it?” She let him take her cup away as she continued speaking. “To like having the man you love promise devotion and loyalty… even if it’s just a story?”

He held her hands in his and pressed his forehead to hers, subvocals humming the Unspoken once more. “It’s not all a story,” he whispered. Her eyes opened to meet his. “You know that already, right?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Good.” Not looking away, he pushed her back on the bed and laid down at her side. They found the fit between themselves, arms wrapped around each other. He rested his brow against hers again, eyes shut. “I swear to guard my Commander from harm… and, with either my life or my death, ensure the success of her mission,” he promised in a low voice.

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

When he opened his eyes, they were back in the tent. Jasmine and tempered steel drifted on the soft desert wind. But it was Shepard–his Shepard–who laid in the bed with him. All the tragedies and horrors of their real lives left behind, even if only for a few minutes. Her warm regard shone out through her eyes, not held back but freely offered.

They pulled closer still. Her arms slipped up around his neck, and he lifted her leg over his waist. He kissed her like that for a long while, brushing mandibles over her cheeks to match her movements best he could. No words spoken, but none needed. Just the tempo of her breath told him everything he needed to know.

Slowly yet steadily, they came together. He held her eyes as long as he could, watching every slight expression in her eyes. They were so different, the two of them. And yet he never felt more understood, more Known, than he did when he was with her. She pressed his brow to hers, mouth moving with unspoken words that he felt deeper than his bones. They were unhurried, confident in their destination yet nearly satisfied to never arrive. Following the other in a dance they knew and loved so well at this point. A dance that Garrus quietly hoped would continue for the rest of their long, long lives till they could be buried in each other’s gaze.

Shepard pulled closer still at the end, tucking her face against his neck and tensing before a long shudder ran through her core. A quiet echo of response answered from his center, filling any remaining air between them with a gentle warmth.

They were both quiet for several minutes, still wrapped completely around the other. If he had just a touch less self-control, Garrus might have been content to drift off to sleep just like that. But the evening, while thoroughly enjoyable, had made a bit of a mess.

“We should clean up,” he said quietly, without moving.

“Yes,” came the eventual reply from the area below his chin.

“...We have to move to do that.”

“You move. I’m too fucked to move.”

That made him chuckle and he pulled away, rolling up to standing next to the bed. Shepard groaned and made a weak attempt to pull him back, hand flopping against the bed.

“Well if you can’t walk, let me carry you then, your magnificence, to the royal baths.”

She laughed as he lifted her from the bed and whisked her off to the bathroom. They both grunted as the bright light flipped on when they entered. But the steaming water from the shower soon soothed any sting.

Shepard eventually got down, but still stayed within his arms, very content to let him wash her hair and rub sore muscles. He felt much the same as she returned the favor, cleaning him with a dedicated care that quieted his mind.

“Is there anything like this?” she mused as she shut the water off.

Garrus reached for a towel. “Hm?”

“In the book. Do the General and Queen do anything like this?”

“Oh.” He wrapped the towel around her shoulders as he thought. “There is a scene in a hot spring that’s pretty famous.”

She smiled and wrung out her hair. “Mm. I like hot springs.”

“Me too.”

They fell into the quiet routine of sleep, the late hour finally catching up to both of them. Shepard didn’t speak again till she eased into the bed next to him, under freshly changed sheets.

“So what happens?” she asked as he looped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “In the book, how does it end?”

He stared at her for a long moment and then answered honestly, grimly. “She sacrifices herself for the good of her people. And though he carries on, he never loves another. How could he?”

Her warm expression dimmed. “That’s… disappointing.”

“That’s turian romance.”

She shook her head and adjusted her fit in his arms, tucking an ankle into his spur. “Let’s change it. She… goes to sacrifice herself for the good of the people. But… he gets there in the nick of time, like always. And together… they win. Go on to have many more adventures and found the new turian empire.”

He smiled and threaded a hand into her hair, eyes drifting shut. “Much better.”

taglist: @me-fish ; @seleenermparis-blog ; @kelenloth ; @ferociousqueak

[ortizobsessed]

In Harm’s Way

This one was requested by @itsidontgiveafuckforyourass.

Reader x Juice where you get shot in the drive-by at Half Sack’s funeral, and when the time comes to go to Ireland, you convince Juice that it’s okay to go.

Warnings: A few swears, and description of gunshots/gunshot wounds.

Word Count: 2685

Masterlist

You weren’t new to this life, but every time someone died it was like a punch to the gut and you were suddenly pulled back to reality. You and Juice had been married for 2 years now, but you were still very much “outside the circle”; Juice’s request. He didn’t want you involved in the dealings of the club. He was afraid you would view him differently if you knew everything, so you lived blissfully in the dark, most times unaware of just how close the danger really was.

You were sitting up in bed, watching a movie on Juice’s laptop when you heard the front door open, then close.

“Hey Juicy!” you called out. No answer. Confused, you paused the movie, thinking maybe he hadn’t heard you, and called again, “Juice?”

You could hear his footsteps coming down the hallway, but he still hadn’t responded. Once he was standing in the doorframe and you saw his face, you knew something was wrong. Shutting the laptop, you flung the covers off of your legs and was standing in front of him in no time.

“Shit Juan, what happened!?” You pulled him close, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. When he didn’t hug you back, you pulled away slowly, placing one hand on the side of his face, and cooed, “Juan, talk to me.”

Taking a deep breath, he looked you in the eyes and admitted, “Half S- uhh- Kip... He’s dead.”

He explained what happened, and his words broke your heart. He told you that Half Sack had been stabbed while trying to stop someone from kidnapping Abel, but he didn’t tell you who or why. He was still trying his best to keep you out of all the club shit, while also not lying to you. He couldn’t stand the thought of lying to you.

“Juan, I’m so sorry- I-” you pulled him into your arms once again as silent tears trailed down his cheeks. You knew he and Half Sack were close, and the suddenness of it happening was clearly a lot to handle. He wrapped his arms around your waist loosely this time, but he didn’t have the energy to pull you close like he usually did.

You weren’t sure how long you two stood there for, but you didn’t care. You let Juice hold you as long as he needed to, and cry as much as he needed to. That’s when you heard his soft voice against your neck, “The funeral is in a couple days. Would you come with me?”

You didn’t even hesitate, “Yes, Juan, of course.” Squeezing him tighter, you finally felt his arms tighten around your body.

“I love you so much, Y/N. If anything ever happened to you-” his voice caught, and he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“I know, I know,” you cooed, “I’m right here, I’m okay. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

You didn’t realize then just how wrong you were.

Over the next couple days, you spent most of your time at the clubhouse. You wanted to be near everyone, and offer your help in any way you could. Whether it was prepare meals, or just being emotional support, you were glad you were there.

Juice clearly was, too, because he was right by your side any chance he got. He didn’t want to be away from you. Any time something bad went down with the club, Juice was glued to your side. He was constantly hugging you and kissing your forehead. You’d lost track of just how many times he told you he loved you in that 48 hour period.

It was now the day of the funeral, and you were helping Juice get ready. Once you pulled your simple black dress over your head and smoothed it out, you made your way towards him. Standing behind him, you slid your hands around his waist to his stomach, and pulled tight. Sighing against the warm skin on his back, you felt his hands on yours.

You held him tight for about a minute before pulling away, then grabbing his kutte that was hanging over the back of a chair. Juice took a black t-shirt out of one of the drawers in the dresser and pulled it over his head. You held out his kutte for him and he slipped his arms through. Turning to face you, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you lovingly. No words were spoken between you two in the hour it took to get ready and drive to the funeral home; neither of you really knew what to say.

Walking hand in hand, you and Juice made your way up the front steps and found some familiar faces. Chibs, Opie and Bobby were standing outside talking, Lyla by Opie’s side. As you two got closer, Lyla made her way to you, pulling you close, as Juice gave each of the guys hugs.

You all made your way inside, wading through the crowd of people there to pay their respects. Once you made it to the room at the back, Juice draped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. You felt his body breathe deep, then sigh heavily, as he tried to keep his emotions at bay. Reaching up, you placed your hand on top of his hand that was around your shoulders, wanting him to know you were there for him.

It wasn’t long before everyone started to filter out of the funeral home and onto the grass or front steps. Everyone just needed a little fresh air to clear their minds.

“Thank you for coming,” Juice said, turning to you and kissing your forehead.

You wrapped your hands around his, pulling one of them up to your lips to kiss the back of it gently. “Of course, Juan. I’m here for you. Always.”

Your words made him smile, for the first time in days, and you could tell he welcomed it. “I love you.”

Smiling back at him, you responded, “I love you, too.”

Nodding with his head in the direction of his bike, Juice suggested, “Let’s go home. It’s been a long day.”

You had only taken a couple steps down the sidewalk when you heard it; the roar of an engine and then the sudden and loud cracks of a gun being fired. People were screaming, and everyone was diving to the ground all around you. As you looked around, trying to process what was happening, you hadn’t moved yet. It was clear that your fight or flight response was actually ‘freeze’.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye. Before you could do anything, Juice had his arms around you and was just about to pull you to the ground when you felt it; two sharp pains that quickly began to burn. One in your left thigh and the other directly below your right shoulder.

It was an excruciating pain that you had never felt before, but it didn’t take you long to figure out what it was. “Juan- I- Juan- help- I think I’ve been shot- help- Juan-” Your voice way low and shaky, and Juice couldn’t hear you over everyone else’s shouting.

As you slumped to the ground, Juice pulled you close, his full body overtop of yours, trying his best to protect you. He was completely unaware that the damage had already been done.

He held you tight until the gunfire stopped. Slowly lifting his body off yours, that’s when he realized something was wrong. You didn’t sit up with him, and as he pulled his hands out from underneath you, he noticed the blood. Lots of blood.

“What the fuck?” Juice stared at his hands for a second as his mind processed his worst fear; you were hurt and it was ‘his fault’.

“Y/N...” His voice was low and clearly broken. You felt his hand on your arm, and it took everything in you not to cry out in pain. Your shoulder was on fire at this point, and even the slightest touch sent pain shooting throughout your entire body.

“Y/N?!” His voice was much more urgent this time, as he tried to roll you onto your back in an attempt to get a better look at you.

The second your body moved you shrieked, clearly in pain.

“Y/N!! Ohhh fuck- oh no no no no oh god no no no Y/N!!” His frantic words broke your heart, but you were in so much pain it was had to focus on anything but that. You were now lying on your back, and that’s when Juice noticed that you hadn’t been shot once, but twice. “Oh fuck oh fuck- HELP!! SOMEONE HELP!!”

In no time at all, Tara was by your side, assessing the damage. A crowd of faces, some familiar, some new, had formed above you. “Shit Tara- Please do something- ANYTHING- I can’t lose her- I just can’t- PLEASE!”

You could feel your mind beginning to slip. Between the pain, the shock, and the loss of blood, it was hard to keep your eyes open.

No matter how much practice Tara had, seeing someone she cared about covered in blood always took a second to process. “Okay- Okay shit- I need you to put lots of pressure on that wound on her shoulder. I’ve got the one on her leg. She’s losing a lot of blood and we need to stop it, now.”

Juice nodded frantically, then looked you in the eyes, almost as if he thought it would be the last time. The last thing you remembered was Juice apologizing; the pressure on your wounds was too much, and you lost consciousness.

The first thing you noticed was the smell. “Okay, I’m in a hospital,” you thought to yourself. Slowly everything started to fade in. The sound of muffled voices, the fluorescent light was peeking through your eyelids, and you could feel someone’s hand holding yours; Juice.

“I think she’s waking up.” Opie’s soft voice filled your ears.

You felt Juice’s hand tighten it’s grip on yours. “Hey, hey sweetheart, I’m here. I’m here baby I’m here.” His voice was quiet, but still full of so much hurt. He was mad at himself for putting you in harms way, and for not doing more to get you to the ground quicker.

As your eyelids fluttered open, you rolled your head to the side and smiled softly at Juice.

“We’ll give you two some space,” Bobby suggested, and you heard shuffling throughout the room. You weren’t sure who all had been in the room, you were too focused on Juice, but quite a few people left.

It was mere seconds after the last person out shut the door that tears began flowing down Juice’s cheeks. It was a silent cry, the kind that only happens when someone is truly hurting. “I’m- I’m so sorry Y/N. This is all my fault.”

Shaking your head softly, you spoke for the first time since the incident, and your throat was raw. “No- No Juan this isn’t-” You couldn’t keep yourself from coughing, but it was the distraction that Juice needed. In an instant, he had a cup of water up to your lips, helping you take a few sips.

As he set the cup back on the side table, he breathed in deep and sighed heavy. His shoulders slumped as he turned to face you again. Looking him in the eyes, you could see the hurt and guilt he was feeling. He hated that the dangers of this life he was living was spilling over onto you.

Swallowing hard once more, you spoke, “Juan. This is not your fault. No one saw that coming-”

He cut you off, “No, but I could have done more. I should have-” His voice broke, and he had to look away.

Reaching over the side of the bed, you placed your hand on top of his. He slowly turned to face you again, and you smiled softly at him. Without saying a word, you shuffled yourself over in the bed to make room for him to lay beside you. Patting the side of the bed that was now empty, you nodded softly at him, encouraging him to join you.

Climbing onto the bed beside you, being very careful not to bump your shoulder or your leg, Juice snuggled his body into yours and pulled you close.

“How long was I out?”

He took a deep breath before answering, trying to silence thoughts of how bad it could have been. “A couple hours.”

Laughing ironically, you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering to the cause of all this. “So what happens now? Do they know who did it?”

Juice shut his eyes tight, not knowing how much he should tell you. “I- I don’t want to bring you any deeper into any of this shit than I have to-”

“I need to know, Juan.” He opened his eyes again and looked at you, “I can’t live in this grey area anymore. I need to know what’s happening. I want to understand.”

He knew you were right. You two weren’t dating anymore, you were married, and had been for 2 years now. It was time he let you in. Breathing deep, he explained it all. From Cameron and Edmond, to Abel and Half Sack, all the way up to tonight and who they suspected was to blame.

“Shit-” was all you could muster as you tried to process everything. “So where is Abel now?”

“We’re pretty sure he’s in Belfast. The guys are heading there in a couple days. I’m supposed to go with- but- I can’t-”

With a stern look on your face, you encouraged him, “You have to! Juan, the guys need you right now, you have to go.”

“Yeah and YOU need me, too,” he replied, clearly struggling to find the balance between brotherhood and wife. He continued hesitantly, “But that Irish prick kidnapped Abel and killed one of my brothers, and because of all that, you were put in harm’s way. I want to be there with the guys to see this through, but I can’t- I can’t just leave you- not like this-.” His voice cracked. Thinking of leaving you to recover from wounds that he viewed as his fault was a hard pill to swallow.

You placed your hand on the side of his face and spoke softly, “Juicy, you need to go. I know you, if you’re not there with them it’ll eat away at you. It’s okay. Tig and Kozik and the prospects are sticking around, I’ll have lots of eyes on me. And with Tara here to make sure I’m healing well, I’ll be fine. I’ll be here when you get back. Promise.”

Juice opened his mouth as if to say something, but decided against it. You knew what he was going to say though, because you were thinking it, too. It sounded a lot like what you’d just said a few days earlier, about you being okay and that nothing was going to happen to you. Yet here you were.

Both of you knew what had to be done though. Juice needed to be there to help find Abel, to support his brother through an unimaginable situation. If you were lying on your death bed, you’d both be thinking differently, but the truth was, you were fine. Tara had done an incredible job patching you up, and you were stable.

After a minute of thinking things over in silence, Juice finally spoke, “Okay... You’re right. But you better believe I’m going to be calling you every chance I get.”

You laughed, and Juice finally smiled, too. “I would expect nothing less.”

Kissing your lips tenderly, Juice whispered, “I love you. So much.”

Smiling against his lips, you told him the same. Nuzzling your head under his chin you sighed, and suddenly felt your body grow heavy once again. You were exhausted, and surely he was, too. In no time at all you were both asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

[writingwhimsey]

The Tiger and the Oda Princess Ch. 14

Chapter 14

It had been almost two months since the festival. I was only a mere two weeks away from my due date and the weather was heating up. It seemed like spring had sped right by. Nobunaga and the others visited when they could It seemed we had a gathering at least once a month. And since I was so far along, everyone was coming our way.

Since the heat had gotten so bad and I was even hotter thanks to all of the hormones flowing through my body, I had made myself some more summery attire. I had made some simple A-line sleeveless dresses out of the lightest fabrics I could find. I did make them down to my ankles so that I wouldn't scandalize the Sengoku era populace too much. Though I hardly left the palace anymore.

I sat in the shade of the veranda, fanning myself. "Oh, how I miss air conditioning...and ice cream." I spoke to myself. "And popsicles...snow cones."

"Trying to cool yourself down by thinking cool thoughts, my love?" Shingen asked as he came out to sit beside me.

"It's not working very well." I replied.

"Perhaps this will help." He said, setting a tray between us.

I looked at the tray. It held sliced up water melon and some water. "That might help." I answered, smiling.

Shingen leaned over and kissed my forehead. He was then taking the fan from my hand and began to fan me. "Allow me, my goddess."

I felt my cheeks redden. "You don't have to do that...though it does feel nice...thank you."

Shingen smiled at me. "I just want to do what I can to make you comfortable. What kind of husband would I be if I let my wife suffer? Especially while she is doing one of the most difficult things of life."

Shingen had only grown more attentive as my pregnancy went on. He really is the sweetest and the best! I thought to myself. It was at that though that tears began to sting my eyes. "Oh...dammit." I muttered as I wiped at the tears.

Shingen reached his hand up to my face, gently wiping away my tears with his finger tips. "Ava, my love, what's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing...I'm crying because I'm happy." I answered. "And you're just...you're so wonderful and love me...so much...I just..." I was then dissolving into a puddle of tears.

Shingen put a comforting arm around my shoulders but continued to fan me. He kissed the top of my head. "It's alright my love." He whispered to me.

We sat like that for a time before I finally finished crying. Shingen was then making sure I drank my water and handed me the water melon. "I can't wait for this baby t get here." I said. "I'm tired of being pregnant...and being so emotional...and of being so damn hot."

"Perhaps a dip in the river would help cool you off?" Shingen suggested.

"Oh...that does sound nice." I replied. It was then that I remembered Nobunaga and some of the others were supposed to be visiting today. "But wait, aren't Nobunaga and the others supposed to be coming by today?"

"Yes, Nobunaga and I have some strategies to discuss." He answered. "You should go to the river, take Asuna and some guards with you. After my meeting with Nobunaga, I will come to you."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

Shingen nodded. "Yes, I just want you to be comfortable."

I smiled up at Shingen. "I love you, Shingen."

He returned my smile, leaning down to then gently kiss my lips. "I love you, Ava."

I finished the water melon and water. Then Shingen was helping me up. My belly was so large that I couldn't get up and down without assistance now. Sitting down was also a chore in all honesty. We walked inside...well Shingen walked, I had begun waddling. When we arrived Asuna and a group of guards were already waiting for me. Yukimura was among my guards.

"Here, I brought your lightest haori." Asuna said, draping the garment over my shoulders. "We do still need to keep the sun off of you."

"I know." I replied with a sigh. Ah, sunscreen how I miss you, too. I thought to myself.

It was then that Kenshin, Sasuke, and the Oda were arriving. "You weren't about to leave, were you?" Nobunaga asked, looking at us.

"Just Ava and the guards." Shingen answered.

"Where are you headed?" Masamune asked.

"to cool off in the river." I answered. "It is ungodly hot and I am roasting." I was then pulling out my fan to begin fanning myself. However, I dropped my fan. "Dammit." I muttered.

Shingen instantly bent to pick it up for me and gently placed it in my hand. "Don't worry." He told me with a gentle smile.

"What's the matter you can't pick up your own things now?" Came a teasing voice from Mitsuhide.

I felt my cheeks redden. "Shut it, Mitsuhide." I snapped.

"She can try...it's pretty funny to watch her." Yukimura replied. "She also can't sit down or stand up without help."

"Yukimura." Asuna said, giving him a slap to the back of the head the same time Shingen flicked him between the eyes.

"Owe, what was that for?!" He remarked.

"That is not the way to talk to or about a beautiful woman." Shingen replied.

"You're such an idiot." Asuna added.

"I'd like to see you try being pregnant." I remarked, glaring at Yukimura.

"You really should be nicer to her." Hideyoshi agreed. "How are you feeling, Ava?"

"Hot." I answered, furiously fanning myself. I was then looking at Sasuke. "Think you can keep everyone in line?" I asked.

"Of course. I will just litter the ground with Makibishi spikes." He replied. "You go cool off and don't worry about a thing."

"We can all get along." Shingen added, lifting a hand to stroke my hair.

"We don't always devolve into fighting." Nobunaga agreed, almost sounding like a petulant child.

I couldn't help but to giggle. "Sure, sure."

Shingen smiled warmly at me. He was then taking my hand and placing a gentle kiss on it. "I swear to you, we will all be on our best behavior. You have nothing to worry about, my princess."

I smiled, my cheeks reddening. "Okay. You guys have fun."

"I think it's be more fun to go with you to the river." Masamune said, grinning. "See both you girls splashing around."

"I hate to disappoint you, but I'm going to find a nice shady cool shady spot and just sit in the river." I replied.

"And I will just be sitting beside her." Asuna added. "Also trying to cool off."

"Be fun to be there when you stand up then." Masamune said his grin widening and his eye roaming up and down Asuna's body.

Asuna was walking over and slapping Masamune upside the head. "I don't know who is the bigger idiot you or Yukimura." She was then groaning.

I was holding back more laughter. It was a moment later that Shingen and I were sharing a kiss and I was heading off with Asuna, Yukimura, and my guards. Though it was a short distance to the river, we had to stop and take frequent breaks as I was becoming winded very easily.

We finally arrived at the river and we found a rather nice shady spot. Yukimura and the guards set up a perimeter and checked things out. Asuna laid out a blanket and picnic basket. She had also packed some extra clothes, since we would be wading into the river still clothed.

I made my way into the river and then found a nice spot that I could sit down in. Asuna of course was helping me every step of the way. "How are you feeling, Ava?" Asuna asked me.

"So much better." I answered with a contented sigh as the cool water washed over me.

"Just a couple more weeks." Asuna told me.

"I just wish they would get here already." I replied. "I am starting to get so tired of being pregnant."

Asuna laughed. "I hate to tell you, but it's only about to get worse."

I let out a groan. "I feel like it wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for this heat."

"I really don't see what is so bad about being pregnant." Yukimura spoke up from the riverbank.

"Oh, I don't know. Only my entire body is changing. I have another person inside of my body, growing and kicking me at all hours of the night. Pushing on my internal organs. Not to mention I cry over the dumbest things. Then there's all of the embarrassing stuff that my body does and I have no control over it..."

"Okay, okay I am sorry I asked." Yukimura replied.

As usual Yukimura had irritated me. So I decided to splash him in the face.

"Haha!" Asuna laughed. "Direct hit! Nice shot, Ava."

"What was that for?" Yukimura asked looking so much like a puppy.

"For acting like being pregnant is no big deal." I replied.

Asuna was then splashing him as well. "The simple answer is that you're an idiot."

Yukimura grumbled, but looked at Asuna with an almost tender smile. I totally ship them. I thought with a grin. I think Asuna would be good for Yukimura, too. He needs someone who can kick his butt and knock some sense into him.

"What's with that look on your face, Ava?" Asuna asked me.

"Nothing." I lied.

Asuna eyed me. Then her cheeks became red. "You'd better not be thinking what I think you're thinking."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I replied with a grin.

"What are you two even talking about?" Yukimura asked.

"Nothing." Asuna and I answered in unison and then both giggled.

"Women." Yukimura muttered with an eye roll.

I started laughing again. Then Asuna splashed me. "What was that for?" I asked.

"Just want you to stop thinking what I know you're thinking." She answered.

I splashed her back. We played like that a few moments before dissolving into a giggle fit. It was in the middle of my laughter that I felt a tightening in my belly. I gasped.

"Ava?" Asuna asked, catching onto it right away.

"It's nothing." I replied.

"Ava, I am your midwife." She said.

"I just...I felt a tightening is all." I answered. "Right here" I then gestured to where I had felt the pang.

"That could be labor pains." She said.

"You mean like...my labor is starting?" I asked.

"You're far enough along that you should be experiencing practice labor. Your body is warming up for the real thing."

"That makes sense." I replied. It was then that I felt the tightening again. It was a bit sharper this time.

"Did you feel it again?" Asuna asked.

"Yeah."

"Maybe we should get you back to the castle." Asuna said. "Two weeks isn't too early. We should go back...just in case."

I nodded. "Alright."

We got out of the river. Yukimura and the guards turned their backs as Asuna and I changed. As soon as I was changed, it was then that felt another pang and then something wet was falling down my legs. "Uh...did...did my water just break?"

"Yes, yes it did. Let's get going." Asuna answered.

https://writingwhimsey.tumblr.com/post/659492281348472832/the-tiger-and-the-oda-princess-ch-15

[more-stuff-of-pi]

The Shape of Love and Water

a/n: I had a really hard time choosing which HQ boy would do this (top choices: Makki, Suga, Kuroo, Terushima, Atsumu). but also the scary thing about writing fanfiction is that you’re writing ooc. also also, this is heavily based on a mini fic I wrote years ago for a different fandom hehe. remember kids: reduce, reuse, recycle!

notes: Y/s/n = your surname. mattsun’s a bad boy and does not give a single fuck. I mean, look at his face. that’s the face of a bad boy, yessir! find my masterlist here

pairing: matsukawa issei x fem!reader | genre: fluff | warnings: trespassing, swearing, it gets the tiniest bit spicy | word count: 2,031

“I still cannot believe that we’re doing this,” you whisper harshly, ducking behind your boyfriend as if to hide from your impending adventure. “How’d you even get those keys, anyways?”

Issei chuckles, jiggling the keys in the lock before him. The sound of the other keys on the chain jingling together only served to add to your anxiety. Sure, you liked adventure, but you also liked not getting in massive amounts of trouble. Issei, on the other hand, could care less. “Captain of the swimming team owed me a favor,” he says with a sly grin.

You huff. “What even is your plan if we get caught?”

Issei glances over his shoulder to give you an unimpressed look. “We’re not going to get caught, Y/n, relax,” he says, clear to you that this asshat indeed had no plan. As he turns back to struggle with the keys, a small part of you hopes that it won’t work, that Issei will somehow have the wrong keys and you both can laugh at what could have been and turn around and call it a night. But, regrettably, there is a larger, louder part of you whose heart swells with an invigorating thrill rather than anxiety when you both hear the satisfying click of the lock echo off the concrete.

Issei pushes the door open, turning to walk backwards, holding his arms out in the air, a lazy grin spreading like paint in water across his face. “Not bad, eh, princess?”

Despite yourself, your lips stretch into a tight-lipped smile, not wanting to admit your excitement. “I still think this is a bad idea,” you chide even as you go to slip your hand into his. The two of you navigate the dark hallway by the light of a flashlight Issei had the foresight to bring, the false yellow beam mixing with the soft white moonlight. It’s odd hearing your footsteps echo off the walls, the hallways normally full of the bustling of Seijoh students, not the quiet shuffling of trespassers. You two don’t dare speak, believing that somehow your voices would disturb the sleeping building.

You come to a door and Issei squeezes your hand before dropping it to work on the second lock. It turns much more smoothly and Issei shoulders the door open, dramatically sweeping his arms and bowing his head. “After you, m’lady.”

Swatting Issei as you pass him, you take in the sights and sounds of the pool before you, the water gently lapping at the bordering tiles despite the lack of recent use. From the high windows, brilliant moonlight filters in past the trees, reflecting beautifully off of the delicate ripples of the water. You hear Issei pass behind you, you assume in search of a light source other than the flashlight he carries. You close your eyes and let the lulling sounds of water and doors opening and closing surround you, enjoying the peace that they create. When you open your eyes again, you assume Issei was successful in his endeavors as the underwater lights have been turned on. The soft glow of the rounded lights combined with the moonlight come together to show off the glisten of the water that was almost… magical. Ethereal, even.

In the softly filled silence, you felt indestructible here, lost in your own world. It might have been due to the fact that it was midnight and most of Miyagi was asleep, but it truly seemed as if the world just stopped and let you and Issei exist in this moment. And there was something so exciting about just being here, together. And also the fact that it was the school’s pool and it was a Saturday night; it electrified the air with an intoxicating exhilaration.

Issei, in your distraction of the wonder all around you, has reappeared, sliding his arms around your waist. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before going to stand at the pool’s edge, his hands dragging off of the small of your back. Having already abandoned the rest of his clothing with the exception of his boxer briefs, Issei pulls at his shirt and tosses it off in some unseen corner. He stretches an arm across his body, the muscles flexing powerfully in his back under smooth skin. He switches arms and again you can’t help but drink in the view like a dying woman of strong muscles moving beautifully. You swear you could watch Issei stretch for the rest of eternity and never tire of the sight, the quiet display of immense power held in one body never ceasing to excite and amaze you. And suddenly you’re remembering the not-so-quiet displays of power, how that skin, that back, those moving muscles feel under your own fingers while you’re desperately clutching to Issei for support. You remember how bittersweet it is to mar that perfect skin with angry red lines of pleasure drawn out from your own nails--

The memories send tingling warmth throughout your body, a flush no doubt heating your face as you hurriedly remove your shoes, silently reprimanding yourself for being distracted by your boyfriend -- which, though you’d never tell him, happens constantly, certainly more than you’d care to admit -- and his stupid perfect awful back, of all things. You genuinely never thought you had a thing for backs -- honestly, you never thought you had a thing for a variety of different things -- and then you met Issei and that all went to shit.

The sound of Issei diving into the water brings you back to the moment and out of your own mind consumed with less than wholesome thoughts. Issei’s head surfaces, messy black hair now plastered to his forehead. He turns around and flashes you one of his heart-melting lazy grins. You shake your head, laughing, still amazed that you two are actually here in the first place.

“You, Matsukawa Issei, are ridiculous.”

Issei’s eyebrow quirks up, his grin shifting into a wicked smirk. “I am, huh?”

“Undeniably,” you tease, taking off your shorts and taking the time in folding them, mostly so you won’t have to look at Issei with your cheeks still flaming hot. Issei’s smirk morphs into a rare simple smile, a loving warmth reflected in his eyes as he just looks at you. You laugh nervously when you catch his eyes, “What now? Are you going to tease me for not wanting to get in trouble like a normal person? Not everyone is a bad boy, y’know,” you giggle.

Issei just keeps looking at you, that same soft smile that makes your heart beat a million times faster still settled on his lips, wading over to the edge of the pool. Uncharacteristically, Issei just keeps on looking at you, causing your cheeks to grow hot again. You’re down to just your shirt and underwear and you laugh again, nervously, self-consciously, this time at Issei’s silence. “What?”

His smile grows into his more familiar smirk. “Nothing,” he charms as his eyes rake up and down your body, “just admiring the view.” You roll your eyes and dip your toes in the pool to fling water at your stupidly handsome boyfriend.

“You think you are just so smooth, don’t you,” you poke your tongue out, hands on your hips.

“No,” he smirks, “I know I am.”

You scoff at him. “Oh, shut up.”

“C’mon,” he gestures sweepingly, “you have to admit, this is pretty romantic, yeah?”

At Issei’s dopey grin, you close your eyes and laugh lightly, happily. When you do open your eyes, your gaze is met with Issei’s open loving one and immediately you are drawn into it and you almost don’t realize that you’re standing on the edge of the pool, for once looking down into your boyfriend’s face. His smile is as lazy as ever but his eyes hold so much love that you almost can’t believe it. You wouldn’t believe it if Issei had not shown you time and time again that he loves you. He loves you in every smile, every teasing glance, every late night phone call, every wiggle of his brows, every less-than-flattering snort of laughter, every tear, every win, every loss, every breath -- Matsukawa Issei loves you in everything that he does. He’s so helplessly in love with you that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Sometimes, despite his easy-going manner, he worries that he doesn’t show you enough, doesn’t tell you enough, just how much he loves you. But when your lips spread with a blindingly beautiful smile, he knows that you can feel his love and he can’t help but love you even more.

Issei reaches out a hand that you instinctively take into your own… and immediately regret being so hopelessly in love with this idiot that you would blindly do whatever he asks. The next thing you know, your body is mercilessly yanked into the pool with a splash, your shirt clinging to your skin as you break the surface. You come up and immediately whirl on Issei, shriek-laughing. “Matsukawa Issei! I liked this shirt, you jerk!”

Issei is laughing with you as you playfully beat at his chest. He catches your wrists and pulls you close to him as he turns your hand and kisses your palm. You feel your heart skip a beat as Issei’s features soften unbelievably as he gazes down at you, both of your laughter dissolving into quiet smiles.

“I can’t believe I fell for that,” you murmur softly, a smile dancing on your lips.

“I can’t believe you fell for me,” Issei whispers back with a cheesy grin. In that moment as in every moment, he is beautiful. He is beautiful and he’s looking at you with all of the love in the world. It heats your cheeks, warms you from the core spreading throughout your body like a tender embrace.

“That’s kinda romantic,” you admit.

Issei laughs freely as he wraps an arm around you, a hand coming up to push his hair out of his face. “Way to ruin the moment.”

“You’re the one who yanked me into the water like a big old brute!”

“Careful, princess, you’re starting to sound like Oikawa.”

You cringe. “Oh, goodness, please no.” Issei cackles, coming to rest his forehead against yours as he winds down, his hand settling on your hip

The water gently slaps against your back as Issei pulls you impossibly closer. “You know I love you, right?” You inhale sharply as he searches your eyes. “I know I tease you all the time and I probably don’t say it enough, but I love you. Probably more than what’s considered healthy, honestly. God knows Makki rags on me all the fucking time for it.” You grin. “But I love you. A lot.”

“Well, I have good news for you Matsukawa Issei.”

He grins at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I, Y/s/n Y/n, am hopelessly in love with you. Like, a lot.” Issei squeezes your hip, chuckling at your teasing.

“God, I’m so in love with you. I love your nose,” Issei kisses there, “your jaw,” more kisses, “your neck,” you gasp as he nibbles a sensitive spot, “your lips,” he says, rubbing his thumb over them.

“You do?” you breathe out, hands coming to rest on Issei’s chest.

“Let me remind you how much,” he whispers against your lips before tightening his hold around you, closing his eyes and kissing your breath away. Your eyes close, revelling in the sensation. Issei walks you both back, hand out so he won’t crush you against the wall. His hands slide from your waist and your hips to your thighs, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He pulls up and you leap, locking your legs around him and crossing your ankle at the small of his back as you slide your hands around his neck. You moan softly into the kiss as Issei presses against you, greedily swallowing the noises you make.

And, as Issei pulls away for a gasping breath only to dive right back in, you decide, have always known, that your greatest happiness comes from existing in these moments. Together.

taglist: @samwrights​ :’)