#watching roman holiday to help me sleep

[sexilene]

bonne nuit!!!

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Something Sweet; Chapter 6

Kendall Roy x Reader

a/n: huzzah, a chapter has dropped! don’t let it flop or else :) enjoy x

p.s. I’m open to incorporating your ideas into the plot! go ham guys

Word Count: 3.366k

You wake up, head tucked into Kendall’s neck. The soft gold of his chain tickles your face. You close your eyes again, pressing yourself further into him, and his arms tighten around you. One hand is sitting comfortably on the small of your back, the other keeping your head pressed to him. One of your legs is draped over his waist, your arm thrown over his chest.

You contentedly drift in and out of consciousness, curled against him. He murmurs a bit in his sleep, none of it which you catch. You feel like you’re in heaven. You kiss his shoulder gently, and he stirs.

“Hey, you.” Kendall kisses you on the lips. “Sleep well?”

“Amazingly,” you say. He moves to pepper kisses all over your face. A soft smile morphs your mouth. “You’re happy this morning.”

“I don’t have to be in the office ‘till one, and I woke up next to you.” You sigh, burying yourself into his chest. “You know, Roman told me that me and you are the ‘same breed of asshat’ yesterday.”

You laugh. “He was only ever talking to me when I was doing something else. I was focused, okay?”

“I don’t blame you,” he murmurs back, thumbing circles into your back. “One time, when we were kids, I hit him because he said my dress shoes looked stupid.”

“Kendall!”

“I was seven. My ego was fragile.” His other hand travels to thread through your hair. “He also needed to be humbled.”

You laugh, and don’t say anything back, falling into a comfortable silence. It’s short lived. “You sure nothing else happened yesterday?”

Kendall sighs. “Dad was… on the senile side.”

“How so?”

“Well, every holiday, he spews classist bullshit, so that wasn’t new. He went on some incomprehensible rant about me and Roman and the company, which, again, isn’t new. But then he started talking about my kids.”

“Ew,” is all you say.

“Specifically my son. He’s not developing as fast as he should, and he’s just a little behind socially.”

“That’s perfectly normal, you know.”

“Yeah, it is. But Dad’s old fashioned, and it just… left a bad taste in my mouth.” His fingers trace up your spine. “Then he and Roman got into this massive fight. Roman wants more control at Waystar- he thinks Dad’s just giving him a title to keep him quiet and complacent. I mean, he is, to be honest.” He rubs his thumb along the nape of your neck. “It’s family drama you shouldn’t have to think about.”

“If you have to deal with it, I want to help.”

“I don’t want to put that on you. You’re too kindhearted for their garbage.”

“If you need to talk, come tell me, okay? Please?”

“Yeah. I will. Don’t worry.” He punctuates his sentence with a kiss to your hair. “And if anything ever bothers you, come to me. I’ll take care of it.”

You press a kiss to the spot where his jaw and neck connect. “If you’re serious, I need someone to taste a new recipe.”

“That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Sometimes I think you got with me just for the baking,” you laugh.

“I did, actually,” he jokes back. “Anything for those fruit tarts of yours.”

He rolls over, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. “Do you want to come over?”

Your hand stays set on his stomach as he stays twisted to scroll through his phone. “Mhm..” You feel his muscles tense under your palm. “Ken?”

“I’m really sorry, I need to go.” He slides out of bed, before doubling back and giving you a distracted kiss on the lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dad’s in the hospital. They think one of his arteries clogged up.”

You sit up and watch as he pulls together some of his things scattered around your room. “Oh my god. Hey, don’t leave yet, let me give you something to take with you.” You run, pajamas and socks, downstairs into the bakery. You quickly put together a to-go box of sweets, praying Kendall doesn’t leave before you make it back upstairs.

Thankfully, he’s waiting patiently at the door when you come back up. You press the box into his hands, stretching onto your toes and giving him a short, but deep kiss.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “I’ll call you later, okay? I’m really sorry.” He kisses you again.

“Don’t apologize. Go. Be safe.” You give him a final kiss and a squeeze on the arm, then he’s gone.

You spend the rest of the day worrying. You open the bakery a little late, deciding it’d be a good distraction. And you wouldn’t mind the money, no matter how little the amount. The customer flow is barely a trickle, but you don’t mind. Maybe you’ll close early on top of the late open and spend time on a key-lime pie for Logan.

You’re interrupted from your thoughts when a man power-walks into your shop. His face is sharp, his styled hair graying. Even his sweats look expensive. “Y/N Y/L/N. That has to be you, right?”

You blink. “That’s me.”

“I want you to cater my wedding.”

“Oh. Okay.” You pluck a notepad and a pen from the counter. “Well, congratulations!” you say, forcing your voice higher. “What date are we looking at?”

“Valentines Day. The one coming up.” He folds his hands and sets them on the countertop space in between you both.

“That’s kind of last minute,” you admit. “You know people usually start this process a year in advance?”

“Well, I proposed yesterday. We don’t really want to wait to get married.”

You sigh. “As long as you’re okay with the fact that some changes won’t be made when you want them to, just because we don’t have as much time to experiment.”

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t care. I like the way your desserts taste, and so does my fiance. That’s all that matters to me.”

You jot down the date. “I’m so sorry, but what’s your name? So I can put it in my books.”

“Connor Roy.”

So now you’ve met all of them.

“Again, congrats, Mr. Roy. What kind of menu are we thinking?”

“Everything. I want it to be elegant, extravagant.”

You suck on your teeth. You’re beginning to wonder what’s wrong with this family. “O-kay. I meant like basics. Do we want cookies, eclaires, brownies…”

“I, uh, didn’t think that far ahead.” He rummages around in his coat pocket. “But I brought a deposit. To make sure you keep yourself available for the entire month of February.” He drops a fat wad of cash in front of you.

“Oh, Mr. Roy, there’s no deposit required. I have you written down, I’ll make sure not to take anything during that month.”

“What? No, this is me being sure. Besides, Kendall insisted.”

“Did he tell you to come here?”

Connor goes red. “Um, no, not exactly. I was talking to him during dinner yesterday, and I asked about the desserts. He said they were done by you, and he had this stupid look on his face talking about it… If anything, I’m just hiring you so he has an excuse to take you to the wedding.”

You hadn’t realized the entire family was privy to what you and Kendall had going on.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m hiring you because you’re the best in the city. But also for Kendall.”

“Okay, here’s what we can do. Why don’t you and your fiance come in a few days from now? I can bake some samples for a wedding cake and you guys can figure out what else you want served.” You drop your notebook and pen and hand him one of your business cards with your work email and phone printed on it. “Tell her congrats for me, okay? Drive safe, it’s starting to snow.”

He leaves, the money seemingly forgotten.

If you had a nickel for every time a Roy had tipped you way too much money, you’d have two nickles, and now $15,000. You couldn’t believe it when you were counting the bills.

The rest of your day is slow, so you start on the pie for Logan. You close up shop- you have a feeling you’re going to be taking a break from the bakery for a little while.

The sun sets, the time leaks away from you. As you’re kneading the homemade dough out, your phone rings, Kendall’s caller ID flashing across the screen. You quickly wipe off your hands and pick up, putting him on speaker.

“How are you? Are you okay? Is he okay?” you ask immediately. You hear a sigh on the other end. It’s like he’s letting go of the strain that’s been building up in his body.

“Y/N, I’m fine. He’s… not awake. I don’t know if it’s a coma or not.”

“Ken, don’t think about it.” You begin to shape the dough, and you feel strangely reminiscent of when you and Kendall had first met- rather, the second time, when he’d introduced himself and asked you to Logan’s. “Where are you?”

“The waiting room. They won’t let any of us in.” He sounds tired, tense.

“I’m sorry, Ken. Let me bring you all something. Does anyone want anything?”

“No, no…”

“Ken,” you chide. “Ask.”

“I mean it, we’re fine.”

“Put Shiv on the phone.”

He sighs, and you hear the rustling of clothing and a ‘Shiv!’ from Kendall. “Hey, Y/N. Kendall calls you?”

“Hi, Shiv. Are any of you hungry? What can I bring you? Can I get something for your dad?”

You can hear Kendall’s voice faintly saying, “Don’t make her bake anything. She’s exhausted enough.”

“Could you bring coffee? Pretty please?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll bring some sweets, too, okay?”

“You’re the best. I love you.”

There’s a pause and a bit more rustling, presumably Kendall wrestling the phone back. Shiv blurts the hospital name to you. “Sorry.” From the noises coming through the phone, you can tell Kendall’s moving away. “I don’t know what’s happening. Shiv thinks everything will be fine, but… I’m just worried, Y/N.”

Your heart cracks. “I’m coming, okay? Give me like an hour.”

“I… You don’t…” He pauses. “Okay.”

You pick up the pace on the pie. All you have to do now is stick it in the oven. After Kendall hangs up, you hurry upstairs and grab your purse and coat. As the pie bakes, you take everything that’s leftover from the workday and toss it all into a to-go box. You settle those boxes into the backseat of your car, along with the now freshly baked pie, and buckle the seat belt over them. You decide that it’ll be easier to get coffee from nearby the hospital- so that it’s hot and it doesn’t spill.

Your teeth chatter as you get into the driver’s seat and set your GPS. You shoot Kendall a text once you’re outside, and clutching your pastry boxes, you shuffle inside and the receptionist points you in the right direction. As you struggle to press the button to the elevator, the doors open on their own and Kendall steps out, heaving a relieved sigh when he sees your face.

Without saying anything, and ignoring your protests, he takes the boxes from your hands. “I told you not to bring anything,” he says quietly, the tease in his voice not reaching his eyes. “You gave me more than enough in the morning.”

“Do you want to take those up and then come with me to get everyone coffee? I need the extra set of hands.”

He nods, then makes the journey back up in the elevator by himself. You didn’t really need help- cup carriers had been invented ages ago -you just think it’d be good to keep Kendall distracted.

He’s back in no time, and he absentmindedly takes your hand in his as you walk back outside. You trace patterns onto the back of his hand with your free fingers. There’s a coffee shop right across the street, and it wasn’t too cold that you both couldn’t walk.

Kendall pulls you closer to him as you cross the street. Neither of you have said anything, and you weren’t keen on forcing him to talk. You put in the order, and fight him quietly over who will pay. You somehow win, and it upsets him.

“You’re already doing so much,” he tells you.

“And I’ll do more,” you say back with an air of finality. “It’s okay. I want to.”

He lets go of your hand and instead grasps your chin, pulling your head towards him so he can press a tender kiss to your cheek. When all the coffee comes out, with a wild mispronunciation of your name that gets Kendall to crack a smile, the two of you make your way back to the hospital, clutching the carriers.

When back in the warmth of the lobby, he shifts the one in his hands into one palm and takes the one from your hands. “Do you want me to come up with you?” you ask quietly.

“I… I don’t know. Everyone is still processing. Shiv kind of… realized what was happening right before we left, Marcia’s being kind of a bitch, Roman had a panic attack… And I don’t even know where Connor is. I haven’t seen him all day.”

You swallow. “Um, he came into the bakery today.”

Kendall doesn’t say anything. “For what?”

“He wants me to do his wedding. I didn’t question why he was there… I’d thought you knew, honestly, because… because of your dad.”

“I’ll, uh, have to talk with the others.” He leans in to give you a quick kiss on the lips. “Wait for me to come back down before you leave.”

You do.

You both settle in an empty waiting area, both of you squished together on a small love seat you think is eighty years old. His arm is wound around you, and your head is set on his shoulder.

“So your family. They know about… us?”

“Yeah. Pretty much,” he murmurs back. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I should’ve asked you first.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” With everything going on, you really didn’t.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says into your hair.

“I’m glad I came.”

Any time you fall silent with each other, it’s comfortable. You don’t feel like you need to fill it. Sometimes, things don’t need to be spoken out loud for you both to understand.

“Roman ate the entire pie,” Kendall admits after a while.

You bark out a laugh. “That was meant for your father.”

“Nobody had the heart to stop him.”

“I’ll make them both another one.” One of your hands drifts to sit on his abdomen. “I’ll bring more tomorrow. I’ll bring breakfast.”

“Y/N, no, you don’t need to.” His free hand goes to sit on top of yours, pressing it into his skin. “Stay at home. Take a day off. Connor’s going to put you through hell.”

“You’re so encouraging, Ken. I feel so ready for the entire wedding I’m about to cater.”

He takes your hand and lifts it to his lips, letting them graze your knuckles. “Preparing you.”

“What’ll possibly happen? Someone will throw a pineapple?”

“Roman just has that effect on people,” Kendall says, amused.

“Who’s Connor getting married to, anyway?”

Kendall scoffs. “I don’t even know why she said yes. I mean, we all do- for the money.” He looks over at you. “They, uh, met through… lewd services she provided for him.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Her name’s Willa. Connor will kill you if you bring it up.” He litters kisses across your shoulder. “So… don’t.”

“Noted. Any other crazy shit I should know about?”

“Oh, there’s lots. But nothing that’ll blow up in your face like that,” Kendall tells you. “Shiv’s with this guy, Tom. I’m pretty sure she’s cheating on him.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It’s… complicated between them. And he’s… willfully ignorant, so to speak. Out of sight, out of mind.” Kendall takes a moment to think. “Rava and the kids will probably be there,” he says cautiously.

“I don’t mind that,” you say truthfully. “It’s not like I can avoid her forever.”

He sighs. “I don’t think she’ll cause issues for you. I hope not, anyway. If she does, just tell me, okay? Even Roman. He finds confrontation ‘engaging and fun’.” He makes air quotes with his hand.

An hour goes by, the two of you chatting idly. Kendall tells you about how Connor’s probably going to have his wedding in Croatia on the beach and how everyone’s going to be staying in the same gargantuan old timey palace.

“We’re going together, obviously,” he says. “It sounds selfish, but I want to show you off.” You feel the heat rise to your face. “What? You’re fucking gorgeous, Y/N. Own it,” he teases.

Another hour leaks away from you two, and Kendall’s phone buzzes. “Doctor’s out. I’ll be right back.” He kisses your forehead and disentangles himself from you before throwing open the door to the stairway and hurrying away. You stay seated on the ancient cushions, waiting patiently. Deciding to be productive, you type out some recipes you’d been meaning to try out. You already have in mind what flavors you’re going to put out for Connor and Willa to taste- thankfully, you were an organized, put together baker. Their time crunch probably wouldn’t affect your work that much. Or so you hoped.

After an increasingly worrying twenty minutes, Kendall is back at your side. “Everything okay?”

He immediately pulls you back into a cuddle. “It’s what they thought it was. Fatty clogging in his artery.”

"Which one?”

He pauses. “The one to his brain. They’re worried he’s going to have a stroke in his unconsciousness.”

You give his arm a squeeze. “He’ll be okay, Ken. Don’t worry. You can always transfer him to a specialist institution if you get more concerned.” You give his bicep a kiss.

His muscles flex lightly under your touch. Despite everything, it makes you giddy. It gives you butterflies.

“Yeah. Yeah, everything will be fine,” he says, trying to convince himself. “Everything will be fine.” He rubs across the small of your back. “It’s late. Go home, Y/N. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?” Kendall kisses you on both cheeks and then your forehead.

“Promise you’ll get some sleep?” You offer him your pinky finger. He smiles, light that had been devoid from him the duration of this hospital stay returning in this instance.

He hooks his pinky around yours, then leans in and kisses you. “Pinky swear. Scouts honor.”

You cup his face in your hands and give him a final, short kiss. “Good night, Kendall. Tell everyone to take care, okay?”

He walks you out to your car, refusing to let go of your hand until you close your car door on him and drive off.

Once home, you quickly check your work emails. You find one from Willa, succinct and polite. She asks to meet you the next day, so the three of you can go over the menu. She kindly tells you that she doesn’t expect you to have any samples- she’s made it clear she just wants to talk. You have a strange feeling it’s going to be more than just about dessert.

You send her back a response, giving her confirmation, and sink into your couch. Despite your exhaustion, you can’t bring yourself to go to sleep. Kendall had texted you, asking if you’d gotten home safe, and now you were absorbed in a conversation on how he wants to buy a pocket square for the wedding to match your dress. His messages come in between large increments of time, so you turn on some trashy reality TV show to distract yourself. You hope he’s okay. Maybe you can convince him to let you stay longer tomorrow, or the day after, or maybe force him to go home and get a good rest.

After a particularly long pause, you send him a text good night. You fall asleep face down on your couch, a sweater Kendall had left behind cradled in your arms.

[applbottmjeens]

bellegraves couple bullshit

Anna likes to use Phillip's credit card. Not for the Gucci store, but to go to the Asian supermarket/Costco to buy groceries and stuff in bulk. He always insists on carrying the bags of rice in spite of his knee lmao. (Of course this doesn't mean she's above dragging him to Sephora)

Phillip likes old movies. They watched Roman Holiday and he swears that a young Audrey Hepburn resembled his mom when she was younger.

Phillip always complains about how he wished he would've recruited her before Laswell did when she was discharged for not acknowledging Farah Karim's ULF as a terrorist group, (thank God the CIA cleared her of that.) And how she would've thrived in the Shadow Company at the time. Anna argues she probably wouldn't be with him if she was working directly under him that way.

The two of them like to nap together. Alot. When they say they "sleep" together, they mean sleeping together. He's gotten so used to having her just lying ontop of him he struggles to sleep without some weight over him.

When Graves was trying to win her back while she was casually dating Tommy's father, he wrote her literal letters. Handwritten letters that were one way or another "Please take me back". She has them in a box.

Anna genuinely expected Graves to dip as soon as he learned she was pregnant with another man's baby. Him insisting on helping her was part of what convinced her to forgive him, and to eventually join the Shadow Company.

She will STILL annoy him with her random unfiltered questions and thoughts.

"How do you think dinosaurs have sex?"

"Let me finish my coffee before I even consider answering that, Annie."

Anna is amazing at karaoke but only sings when she's drunk. There's a video of her on his lap singing at a karaoke booth with friends where he's just smiling and watching her all smitten.

Anna has tried to explain "not too sweet" as an Asian compliment to Phillip thousands of times. He still doesn't get it.

Anna cannot wrap her mind around the amount of churches needed in one place in the entire state of Texas.

They had a legitimate argument over the Spurs or the Warriors (NBA Teams) being better. Graves was this close to banning blue and gold in the household.

There's an entire folder of photos in Anna's phone dedicated to Phillip's dog being cute. Her favorite is a clueless Graves using the dog as a pillow while he scrolls through his iPad.

They forget about the age gap sometimes. Well, she does. Sometimes he uses her "immaturity" as an excuse to take charge/be right.

Anna has taken Phillip to the Philippines before. She had to convince him not to adopt every street dog/feed every askal he saw on the road. He left a rose on the memorial of her grandmother Isabella.

[titobitex]

Ok homie what are your gta hc's?

thank you for the ask!! I've honestly got a shitton of gta hcs (including gtav) so it might be a bit all over the place but bare with me. Ship hcs are included here too :]]

Brucie

- has no idea how to cook, and whenever he attempts to he'll call either Niko or Roman for help despite them having no idea what the fuck he's talking about

- never touches drugs, though bullshark testortone / steroids is an exception, but will smoke a cigarette / blunt from time to time

- loves collecting different types of jackets (sports jackets, leather, punk, biker, etc)

- bids on celebrity worn / movie prop shit off of ebay. not because he wants it, but so he could fuck with people

- former highschool boxer, tried to pursue it when he got older but got his ass kicked in a match and backed out for awhile

- despite being a health-nut, he loves anything sugary and genuinely has to restrain himself

- really likes soft rock / rap music

- prefers hot, scorching weather days. not because he likes the weather, but because he gets an excuse to be shirtless in public and show off his tattoos

Niko

- loves watching horseracing, he'll rarely bid on the horses but still enjoys watching

- (related to the previous hc) collects horse / horse carousel figurines or anything related

- really likes cats and fish :3 whenever Nikos feeling alone or sad of some sort, he goes to the aquarium after-hours to collect his thoughts and relax

- feeds the street cats whenever he can

- horrible sleep schedule, but still gets up early everyday

- likes the 2000s skelanimals brand and has even boughten some of their plushes (he likes Rae the wolf specifically)

- favorite holiday is halloween!! he'll go trick or treating for a bit before giving whatever candy they dont want to his friends

- gets nightmares almost on a daily basis

- loves playing cards, specifically egyption war

- unironically got nightmares from watching Killer Klowns from Outerspace despite denying he was scared and stayed away from the carnival for a month

Johnny

- actually a really good sewer! whenever he finds cool band patches he'll buy (or steal) 'em and sew it onto his biker jacket right then and there

- has a pet coyote (it comes by every now and then and let's Johnny pet'em)

- loves cats and visits cat cafes often :3

- likes playing old Cube / Wii / Playstation games, even goes to the arcade occasionally and brings all the brothers with him

- robs the liquor store alot, not for alcohol but for slushies for him and the gang (even the dancers at the club house too)

- pretty good at cooking, except for baking

- puts ketchup on almost everything. this mf will seriously put ketchup on steak if he had the opportunity to

- thinks hotdogs are fucking repulsive but will have a corndog anyday

- learning how to play bass

- started his punk/rocker phase in highschool and never got over it since

Ship Headcanons

Niko/Brucie

- tried cooking together, it ended in disaster and ended up calling the fire department

- go to the beach/carnival almost every weekend to unwind

- they like recreating shitty Facebook Couples photos and tagging the people from the originals they parodied (usually they get blocked and reported)

- tried going on a skating date and Niko did horribly

- Brucies love language is verbal/affectionate, while Niko shows his love through small acts / gestures (running errands, etc)

- Niko gives/offers their jacket/sweaters to Brucie whenever it's cold, despite Brucie being slightly bigger then him

- Brucie compliments Niko all the time, even if it's not relevant to the conversation

- Niko runs errands / handles Brucies business whenever Brucies really stressed / busy

- the first time Niko actually stayed the night at Brucies penthouse he got really nervous sleeping in the same bed so once Brucie fell asleep he left and spent the rest of the night on the couch

- they both have (small) hidden matching tattoos that they got when they were drunk

this took me forever to write so I might make a part two :]

[purplesurveys]

1899

Do you ever worry about your future? (i.e.: college, marriage, kids, etc) Not really. I think I've mostly learned how to have an "accept whatever's coming" mindset, which might sound lazy but it helps a lot in, like, not being constantly paranoid. If anything what I only find myself thinking about repeatedly is the future in the context of my parents – will I be the child who'll live with them when they get old, would they ever get seriously sick, etc.

Does your family use coasters? Is anyone in your family excessively tidy? We don't; we just use the placemats for glasses. My mom is very tidy and very particular and very uptight with neatness...but somehow that doesn't translate to coasters haha. We manage fine without.

What’s your least favorite chore to do around the house? Do you have to do this often? Ironing. Its optionality is what makes it burdensome for me lol, if that makes sense. I don't always have to do it in every laundry cycle so when I do, it feels like an additional chore.

If you went to your mom/dad or whoever you live with and said “hey, I’ll clean the whole house if you give me 20 bucks” would they go for it? Would you raise the price? 100% they will just laugh at me for asking money when they know I'm already perfectly capable of earning my own, haha.

Are you usually late, early or right on time? Usually right on time, or anywhere between 1-5 minutes late.

If you wrote a journal entry about your last date, what would it say? I can't remember when my last date was.

On a scale of 1 to 5 how organized are you? I'm like a 6 at work and a solid 2.5 anywhere else.

Name a movie you can watch over and over again and not be bored with? Roman Holiday or Two for the Road.

Do you wear pajamas to places other than at your house? Apart from the house and accommodations like hotels and Airbnbs, nope.

Do you take showers in the morning or at night more? Morning. It needs to be the first thing I do every morning, otherwise it won't feel right when I work.

What is the wallpaper on your cellphone? Lockscreen is Namjoon at a museum; home screen is the latest OT7 selfie from Jin's first day out the military. It's the one where Hobi has clearly been drinking because his entire face is red, lol.

Do you still have your tonsils? Yes.

What is the worst thing someone has ever done to you? Told me I'm worthless, unworthy of love, a burden etc. Idk I blocked everything from my memory but that's essentially the idea.

Have you ever gone nude/streaked in public? No thanks.

Do you snore? Steal the covers? Roll around in your sleep? I snore sometimes, which is the most noteworthy thing I do when sleeping tbh. Otherwise I barely move and always wake up nearly in the same position I fell asleep in.

Why aren’t you with the person you love? I'm not romantically interested in anyone.

Could you go out in public looking like you do now? Yeah. I was supposed to be out for an event but this typhoon did not shut the fuck up all day. Internet's out, landline's out, and even cell signal was mostly out inside the house so I've been working from my car and didn't have time to change out of my event clothes.

Do you like the rain? Love the rain.

What is your mom listed under in your phone? Just her number. LOL. It's a running gag now tbh; it's hilarious when people see it and are shocked when they find out I don't have my mom officially saved, so because the reactions are always priceless I've kept it that way.

Do you like going to the dentist? Yeah it's fine but I just hate when they use that sandpaper thing to aggressively wedge in my teeth gaps. Makes me so paranoid.

Are you afraid of speaking to large audiences? Not usually. I'll be fine if I know what to say.

Are you afraid to tell the truth sometimes? Sure.

What’s one quality about yourself that you feel sets you back but also helps you? Gosh. Uh...maybe liking my alone time a little too much, I guess? I could benefit more by joining communities, signing up for hobby classs and workshops like painting and pottery, and meeting new people...but idk. I'm also just as content staying my shell when I want to.

Was anyone who had been in your company today in a bad mood? It was just me and the rain today.

The last time you felt sick what exactly was wrong? Food poisoning. Drank bad milk.

What did you do today? Weathered through work despite the nearly-nonexistent signal and carried out the most stressful event ever (it was a face-to-face that needed to be redone and repackaged into a Zoom event with uhh *checks watch* barely 2 hours of prep). I should feel proud but now I just kind of feel bad because I was tense and stressed all day and could have spoken more nicely to some colleagues who kept getting stuff wrong. I didn't humiliate them or say bad words or anything lol but the perpetual people pleaser in me just doesn't like showing that I'm angry. Idk. It's hard to balance being firm and gentle.

[hisunshiine]

update

hi everyone. 

i hope everyone’s holiday has been well. mine has been...a shit show to say the least. 

because i know im nosey and like the info, and because venting helps me feel better, here’s the info. 

my mom is allergic to dogs and cats

my sister has a big dog (pit-rot mix) & a new kitten and I have my 2 cats (my CHILDREN)

i have a new house everyone in the family wants to see. its a 4/3 with an optional flex space/5th bedroom. we have the flex space as the BTS room. it’s full of merch and unfinished.

my cousin, his wife, and 2 kids (5 & 7 y/o) asked to come down to spend the holiday with us (and bring their dog cause they couldn’t find a sitter). 

we figured they would stay with us because i have a full size bed in the guest room (adults) and a full size bed pull out couch (the kids)

my mom also has a guest room that has a full size bed

his mom invited herself (she’s in her late 50′s) AKA SHE NEVER ASKED ME IF SHE COULD COME JUST CALLED MY GRANDPA WHO LIVES WITH ME AND TOLD HIM SHE WAS COMING.

she then decided to bring her new, un-housetrained dog, AND DID NOT ASK

she then decided to bring another PERSON (her brother’s girlfriend), AND DID NOT ASK

once they arrived, i told her that the best break down would be for her and her brothers gf to share the bed at my moms house, and leave her dog at mine, and then the family of 4 to stay at my house because COMMON SENSE

she went and told the gf that “i have a place to stay, but we don’t know where you’re sleeping”

she then had everyone up late trying to figure out the arrangement despite being told several times what the arrangement was by me. 

she made her son and my brother go buy the gf an air mattress

my cousin and his wife and kids ended up sleeping at my moms and his mom slept in my guest bed and the gf slept on the pull out couch.

but before the gf could sleep, my cousins mom just HAD to sit on her bed and watch TV for a couple hours. who cares that they were driving for 12 hours to get here and it was well past midnight now.

for several days we had a lot of issues with her being bossy and rude and talking shit about everyone, which culminated in a HUGE blowout.

she packed her shit and burned all of her bridges and left. while packing her shit, she left the door open.

MY BABY, ROMAN, WHO LOVES TO EXPLORE BUT IS NOT AN OUTDOOR CAT, ESCAPED OUTSIDE.  HE HAS BEEN OUTSIDE OVERNIGHT FOR 3 NIGHTS NOW AND WE HAVE SEEN HIM EVERY NIGHT, BUT HE IS SCARED AND UNABLE TO COME OUT OF THE WOODED AREAS AROUND MY HOUSE TO ME. LAST NIGHT HE MEOWED LIKE CRAZY FOR ME TO RESCUE HIM, BUT I COULDN’T GET THROUGH THE THICK BRUSH AND WHEN MY COUSIN TRIED ROMAN GOT SCARED AND RAN. I WANT TO CRY JUST THINKING ABOUT IT.

So, i haven't had the energy or time to write, but i will try during the day time when i know Roman is hiding and won't come out. i'm also still working on the holiday letters, they will arrive late unfortunately, but i will send them.

thanks for understanding and being patient. I just want my baby back home and safe.

[dee-as-logan]

Many gratitudes to all that tuned in for my Live Stream, your ideas were warranted. In fact, I have made a list of such ideas and I am going to share that with you all now.

So, as it was decided:

Roman: Shall be performing many a Christmas Play, namely The Nutcracker and, of course, A Christmas Carol.

Patton: This one was relatively easy to decide, however- baking cookies. I assure you, he shall be most joyful with that choice.

Virgil: He is not one for the Holidays, and so it was chosen that he shall watch Nightmare Before Christmas in his room. Or perhaps, listen to the soundtrack instead- should he so wish.

Janus: He shall be in charge of planning our Christmas Party, which- although I am hesitant about, I feel is a good match.

Remus: Ah, this was the one that I am most worried for. Though, it does fit him to a 'T'. However, this one shall be setting 'Home Alone' traps, with a Saw twist for added excitement.

Oneself: Ah, yes. A collection of quiet activities to get me through this Holiday. I especially like the Doctor Who portion, and doing some crosswords. Adequate.

And now for others that you Famders spoke about.

Picani: This was an easy choice, for he shall be watching animated holiday specials. Over and over again.

Thomas: One can hope that he goes on a Christmas date with Nico. It is said that a snowy setting can be romantic and help with *shudders* feelings.

Sleep: This is not much different to his normal routine, though perhaps less caffeine shall be consumed? Holiday drinking, for a full 3 or so days.

And the final decision, was that as a collective, we shall be caroling using well known songs like “Deck the Halls”, “When Christmas Comes to Town”, “Here Comes Santa Claus” all while wearing our Christmas Sweaters. Perhaps they shall be new designs? I will converse with Roman about such a project.

I rather like that robotic font, I may start using that for all future posts.

Anyway, I am going to sign off now and grab oneself a hot beverage and a crossword book. I shall speak to you all another time.

-Logan.

[surveysand]

four.

How much did your senior prom dress cost you? i think $150? i honestly don't remember.

What dreams have stuck with you since childhood? the very first dream i ever remember having has always stuck with me, but that's it.

Have you ever been in a serious romantic relationship? yes.

Did you ever take your dog to school? no.

If you had had a baby in high school, what would you have named him or her? ella. i was absolutely obsessed with that name, lol.

If you had a baby now, what would you name him or her? caroline for a girl, noah for a boy.

Have you ever seen someone throw up on a plane? no.

Do you get motion sickness? i have been more recently only in the car, but nowhere else.

Has God ever healed you of anything? If so, what? i don't believe in god.

What is the most boring church you have ever attended? the church i grew up in. i've only been in a few, but i think that one seemed the most boring because it's the one i went to the most.

What is the most lively church you have ever attended? literally none. they've all been roman catholic churches where everything is so orderly and monotonous.

Do you find church fun or boring? boring.

What do you hate the most about summer? being hot all the time.

Which part of your body is the most muscular? my legs.

Did you ever take Latin in school? no.

Which major holiday is closest to your birthday? does halloween count? i'm counting it, lol.

What is your favorite Japanese name? i have no idea. i'm not knowledgeable in that area, lol.

Have you ever ran a cash register? no.

Did you collect Bratz dolls when you were younger? i had one or two, but i was much more of a barbie girl. i had hundreds of barbies.

Do you think your mom is attractive? yes, i will always think my mom is beautiful.

What was the last thing that disappointed you? realizing i forgot to refill the brita before going to bed, lol.

Do you like the feeling in your stomach on a big drop on a roller coaster? yes.

Skeletons or scarecrows? skeletons.

Do you own pumpkin earrings? no.

What computer game did you used to play all the time? webkinz. i still play it every now and then when i'm bored.

When was the last time you read a book? a few weeks ago.

Would you allow your children to date prior to 16? (assuming you want any) no, i don't think so.

What was the last restaurant you made a reservation at? i have no idea.

Which app on your phone do you tend to get the most notifications from? instagram.

What is something you gave up on after many failed attempts? probably trying to format a presentation for a class some way, lol.

Do you watch political shows? no.

Do you play any fantasy/roleplaying games? What? no.

Do you like salami? it's okay.

When was the last time you ate meat? a few days ago.

What was the last hot drink you drank? i have no idea.

Have your parents met your boyfriend/exes? yes.

How about your boyfriend’s parents? Met them? yes.

Do you know how to say I love you in at least 4 languages? i don't think so.

Do you find the sound of a cat’s purr relaxing? yes.

Do you know your mum’s first pet’s name? ugh, it's right on the tip of my tongue, but i can't remember. i know it was a sheepdog, though.

Would you ever want to be famous? If so, for what? only if it was for research accomplishments. i'm too insecure to do anything like signing/acting/etc.

Would you ever get a heart tattoo or your back? probably not.

What fruit can’t you stand? none. i love every fruit i've tried so far.

Do you know anyone autistic? yes.

How about someone bipolar? yes.

What do you consider private to you? health issues and finances.

Name somebody you know who deserves a better life than they have: one of my close friends.

Name something that you’re good at but don’t like: overthinking, lol.

Name something that you’re bad at but DO like: sleeping at a normal time. i love being a night owl.

Name somebody who has tried to help you and ended up hurting you: one of my old therapists. she was awful.

Name a date that has a lot of significance to you: august 7.

Name something in your life that was a blessing in disguise: my dog. i knew i would love him and he would be important to me, but he came into my life right before a very traumatic event and saved my life in so many ways.

Name something that you’ve done that would be considered rebellious: smoke weed.

Name something you wish you had enough money to do: travel.

[thislivsnjutare]

Classic Romantic Movies You Need To Watch

It's February and you might be looking for some Romantic movies to watch together with your date, well let me help you with that with this list of Classic Romantic Films You Need To Watch!

10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

An American in Paris (1951)

Casablanca (1942)

City Lights (1931)

Clueless (1995)

Four Wedding And A Funeral (1994)

Ghost (1990)

Groundhog Day (1993)

Jerry McGuire (1996)

Manhattan (1979)

Moonstruck (1987)

Notting Hill (1999)

Pretty In Pink (1986)

Pretty Woman (1990)

Roman Holiday (1953)

Say Anything (1989)

Sense And Sensibility (1995)

Shakespeare In Love (1998)

Sleepless in Seattle (1993)

The Bridges Of Maddison County (1995)

The English Patient (1996)

The Princess Bride (1987)

The Red Shoes ( 1948)

The Wedding Singer (1998)

Vertigo (1958)

West Side Story (1961)

When Harry Met Sally (1989)

While You Were Sleeping (1995)

[hydra-collector]

a lonely new year

AO3

Ship: Platonic Loceit

Characters: Logan Sanders, Janus Sanders

TW: crying, food

Words:  2093

Note: My gift for the TS Winter Fic Exchange for @lost-in-thought-20. Hope you enjoy! Credit to @raspberryjamus for being a beta reader and helping me with ideas!

Summary: Logan and janus don't have anywhere to go to on New Year's. So, they find each other.

The air was frosty, snow glittering on the sidewalk. It was dark out, as it had been on his trips home for over a month. Today it was especially late, as his first bus was late and he had to pick up a few groceries for dinner. Although there was no school during winter break, Logan’s dedication to the chess club and swim team had not wavered. There had been no official meetings today, not surprising considering that it was New Year’s Eve, but he’d gone to the pool anyway just to keep it up.

It wasn’t like he was doing anything for New Year’s anyway.

There were only a few cars on the street. His bus was supposed to come in around five minutes, but the public transportation schedules were inconsistent, especially on a holiday. Patton was out with his friends, like he had been all day, and his parents were off on a short vacation somewhere that Logan had declined. That was alright. He was almost eighteen and had responsibilities here at home. Someone needed to take care of the house, and it’s not like Patton was particularly good at that.

It was the third year in a row that he’d been (mostly) at home for New Year’s. No close friends who invited him anywhere, no partner to cheesily kiss at midnight. He’d gotten used to it by now. Patton did his own thing and Logan stayed home, making his own dinner, maybe watching a show.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t had anything much of a close friend for much of that time either. He didn’t really like Patton’s best friends, Roman and Virgil, and he hadn’t consistently talked to Remus or Janus for a long time. He’d never been very adept at keeping up relationships.

Though he knew this was going to happen, (and was rather judgemental of the arbitrary concept of New Year’s anyway) he couldn’t help but feel an uncomfortable weight settle in his chest at the thought. Patton was sleeping over at Roman’s, so he would be entirely alone.

He’d assured his family that he would prefer it that way, but the weight of loneliness was still there.

The bus pulled up at long last after a few minutes, and he was enveloped by the warmth inside. He headed straight for the back of the bus, ready to all but fall asleep until his stop. Before he could, though, the bus jolted and stopped suddenly, opening the doors for someone to dash inside, panting. They weaseled the bus driver out of their fare. They turned, and Logan recognized Janus’s face.

Janus’ eyes lit up in recognition, and he dashed towards Logan. “Been ghosting me, have you?” he said, plopping down in the seat next to him, giving a cheeky grin.

Logan rolled his eyes. “I’ve been busy. Haven’t gotten the chance to say hi.” It wasn’t his intention, really. He’d been spending time on chess or swimming or schoolwork. He tried to look sincere, but he wasn’t sure if it came across.

“People are supposed to hang out with their families and partners on holidays, you know.” Janus raises his eyebrow, leaning back into the seat and shaking snow off of his coat.

“We don’t really celebrate New Year’s together. I don’t mind doing it this way.” Logan looked away from Janus, feeling discomfort at the harshness in his stare. “I’m just heading home and coming up with something to eat, then I’m going to bed. It’s just like any other day.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a loser? You should be doing something fun or exciting. Perhaps illegal. It’s a holiday, you should be enjoying yourself.”

Logan shook his head, “Really, it’s fine. I don’t mind the solitude.” He began to rub his thumb over his jeans, considering the heavy weight in his chest. “But if you, perhaps, were lonely, I wouldn’t be opposed to spending time with you instead.”

Janus let out an overdramatized gasp. “To think that I would be lonely on New Year’s. You’re hilarious, Logan.” 

Logan felt a twinge in his chest, perhaps shame. “Nevermind, then. I’ll just go home. I’m getting off in a few stops anyway.”

He didn’t look back at Janus, pulling his bag around his shoulder and standing up. Before he was even able to make it near the door, however, Janus grabbed his wrist, tugging him back towards his seat.

“I never said I wouldn’t go with you. C’mon, I know a good diner on this route.” Logan looked back, focusing on the space between Janus’ eyes.

Logan sat back down. “Alright then. It can’t be worse than my usual routine.” Janus chuckled, and Logan felt a sense of relief.

“Lovely. It’s a bit of a ride, but we shouldn’t get there too late.”

~~

“Table for two?”

Logan nodded to the waitress. He checked his watch to see that it was nearly eleven (a “bit” of a ride had turned out to be an hour long) while Janus admired the cakes set up on display. Soon, his exhaustion would catch up to him and make him loose-lipped and scattered, but at this point he didn’t really care. 

“Follow me, gentlemen.” Logan kicked Janus’ shin lightly, startling the other teenager into following him. The gesture earned him a scowl, but Janus had at least enough manners to wait until they were sitting down to say anything.

“Didn’t know you were such an asshole, Logan.” He said, pulling up his menu. Logan stared at him for a moment, considering the sentence. He’d been informed that usually when Janus said things like that, he was being sarcastic. He worried still, though, even if it wasn’t a severe incident.

“Are you going to look at the menu?” Janus lowered his, looking at Logan expectantly. 

“Mhm.” Logan said absentmindedly, the exhaustion starting to catch up with him. He didn’t feel the hunger that he knew he should as he skimmed over the menu. Nothing really seemed all that appealing at the moment.

“I think I’m going to get steak and shrimp.” Janus said, placing down his menu.

“Do you even have the money for that?” Logan asked, skeptical.

“What do you take me for, a peasant? It’s a holiday, I’m allowed to splurge. Maybe I’ll even buy yours if you’re nice.” Janus threw in a gratuitous wink, making it clear the nature of his comment. Logan looked down awkwardly. He was fairly certain that Janus’ flirts weren’t serious, but he could never tell. 

“I’m going to get something warm to drink. Maybe herbal tea. I don’t want to be up late.” 

“Staying up too late on New Year’s Eve? Hun, isn’t that the whole point? I’m getting coffee.” 

“Suit yourself, I don’t really care if you’re hyperactive at two AM.” He gently rubbed his thumb over the table, the pleasant texture easing his nerves a little.

“What are you getting to eat, anyway?”

Logan looked back at the menu. “I’ll just get a tomato soup. I’m not hungry.”

“If you say so, but you’re not getting any of my food.”

They ordered, sitting in an awkward silence afterward. Logan distracted himself by ripping up his napkin piece by piece until it was barely usable. Janus said nothing, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Logan began to wonder why he even agreed to this at all. He knew he couldn’t talk to people, especially not someone like Janus who he wasn’t sure how to act around.

“You’re really not concerned about being alone on New Year’s?” Janus said once their drinks came, pouring in unspeakable amounts of cream and sugar.

Logan paused, the smell of peppermint wafting up from his mug. He took a sip, perhaps to delay his answer. “I don’t know. I’m used to it.”

Janus furrowed his brow, not seeming satisfied with that answer. Logan wasn’t sure what he could say. He didn’t know. Maybe Janus was just here to make fun of him.

“Why aren’t you hanging out with your friends?”

Janus laughed lightly. “You are my friend, dumbass. I’m not gonna ask you here on a holiday if I don’t want to hang out.”

“But why didn’t you already have plans? What were you even doing on the bus?”

Janus sighed quietly, looking at him. “I was getting away from my parents. They didn’t want Remus to come over. They don’t like him. And if I’d gone over to his house, his parents would’ve told mine. So I just left. Got on the bus. It’s pure chance that I found you.”

Logan wasn’t sure if anything he said could be helpful. “When are you going back?”

Janus pondered it for a moment. “As late as possible. Morning, probably. At that point they’ll probably start being really upset with me. Maybe they won’t even notice if I get back early enough. They’re not gonna be happy I skipped celebrating though.”

“You are lonely, aren’t you?”

Janus nearly exploded into defensiveness before the waitress brought them their food. He quickly composed himself, thanking her and shooting a glare at Logan before starting to eat. Logan picked at his food, feeling sick to his stomach from the emotional turmoil of the night.

He cradled his tea instead, sinking into the small bit of warmth. The hunger was kicking in now, but he still didn’t feel like eating. How long has it been? How long were they going to stay here?

They sat in silence while Janus ate and Logan’s soup grew cold. The minutes ticked by, drawing nearer to midnight. Eventually he started to ignore his tea, the sick feeling in his stomach overwhelming.

“When was the last time you talked to someone just to hang out, Logan?”

He looked up from his tea, only to avoid Janus’s piercing gaze. He supposed this feeling was why he avoided having friends. Even the most subtle possibility of scorn cut deep. This was the first time in what seemed like forever that he’d done anything with a friend. Pain welled up in his chest, the first tears he’d had in a long time imminent.

It had been so long since before he’d given up on keeping friends. So long since he thought it was worth it. So long since he’d been able to ignore his worries and just talk to someone without restraint. So long since anyone had wanted to talk to him, or hang out with him.

He kept his cool. He wasn’t about to dump this all on Janus. “I… it doesn’t matter. I’m not a very sociable person, if you can’t tell.”

“But you are. I know you are. I can’t count how many times I’ve had to let you talk my ear off about one of your interests,” Janus said, smiling in amusement.

Logan couldn’t take it that way, though. The threat of tears didn’t recede, and he didn’t dare look at Janus.

“You still haven’t answered the question, love. It could be anyone. Your brother, your parents, even some random kid in your class. When was the last time you talked to someone just because you wanted to?” The question was more intense this time, and it completely overwhelmed Logan. He shouldn’t need friends. He shouldn’t deserve friends.

Tears broke the surface. “I- I don’t know. I don’t know, Janus, I’m sorry!”

He choked on his tears, trying to prevent a sob. Janus didn’t need this. It was past eleven on New Year’s Eve and he was crying in front of a night-shift waitress and his friend who he hadn’t talked to in months. Janus may as well leave now, go find someone else to bother. 

Instead, he took Logan’s hand, leaning over the table. He couldn’t see it, but Janus’s expression had softened into gentle worry and regret. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry for prying,” he said, his voice inconceivably gentle in a near whisper. 

“You’re right,” he continued as he leaned back, his voice a little louder. “I am lonely. I feel pathetic that the only reason I had someone to see on New Year’s is because I ran into you on the bus, running away from my problems. And maybe that’s the reason that we have to be here. For each other.”

Janus beckoned him over, taking him into a long-needed hug. He kept mumbling comforting words while Logan cried into his shoulder softly. 

The alarm beeped on Logan’s watch. It was midnight.

Both paused for a moment. “Happy New Year’s, Logan,” Janus whispered.

“Happy New Year’s, Janus.”

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood - Part 3

What happened to the cycling classes after work and the occasional drinks with coworkers? Now it was flying to Italy to vacation for the December holidays with Harry and his family and friends.

Ok part 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and the final part of ilitn i believe! let me know what you think! plssss! Not proofread, but your support means the most and it means the world to see your thoughts, literally anything about it, and this little harry I always have to remember that’s the simp your honor ^ right there! anyway happy reading!

Read Part 1 | 2

Word Count: 10.9k | Warnings: swearing, smut! (finally) - oral (m+f receiving, dirty talk, choking? i can’t remember ngl there might not be, sloppy sex, outdoors by the pooldeck just btw, christmas, idk but hopefully nothing I missed, feelings! happy ending (possibly rushed 

-

“You’re really flying to Italy and then traipsing around the Italian countryside for three weeks with Harry and his family? I cannot believe you’re leaving me behind.”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying this, but he had said I could invite a friend or two if I wanted. But I thought it’d be weird with his family so you literally can’t be mad at me!”

“Fine. I’ll move past it, but how did you move past the whole panic attack? Like you barely spoke to him for a month and then he’s on your doorstep and you’re kissing and agreeing to a Roman Holiday?”

“It’s Harry,” she sighs, laying down on her couch. “How could I not, I got scared because he was gone, but once he was back, nothing else mattered.”

“I guess,” Cate mumbles.

“Oof, sorry Cate I have another call, I’ve got to go…”

By the time she tries to pick up the other line has gone to a message and she’s left to listen to her boss over a voicemail:

“Hey Y/N, I know your holidays have just begun, but I wanted to inform you that you’ll be getting a new client in the new year. Big artist! Anyway, just wanted to inform you that I’ll be emailing over some of their paperwork. Feel free to ignore it until the new year! Have a nice trip.”

She sighs. “Interesting...but will definitely be waiting for the new year to even think about work,” she says to herself.

She throws her phone to the side. Tired of all the phone tag and messages she had begun to have to deal with as the Holiday season dawned more and more upon her. She had more important things to think about. Most important being the suitcase laid out before her and the flight she was bound to be taking in less than 24 hours. This time, she wouldn’t be picking Harry up from the airport. No, this time they were flying out of London Heathrow together.

Together together? She wasn’t sure. The kiss on her doorstep and plea of Italian holiday meant a lot to her, but did it scream committed relationship? She had no idea when it came to Harry. Maybe it was better not to ask and just wait until he told her. Wondering had gotten her in a pit last time and she never wanted to feel the way she had over the last month while he had been gone.

She sleeps in her bed for one last night before leaving for a month. Harry had managed to convince the airline to allow Rori to ride with them in first class, so she wouldn’t have to leave her dog in a kennel or with friends during the holidays. She was grateful for that and she just didn’t understand how she had gotten so lucky as to have someone like Harry in her life.

They fly first class and while Harry had secured her ticket last minute, she insisted that he take her money to pay for the ticket. She was determined to not lose herself in this process. She would happily go along with Harry’s crazy life as long as she maintained her constitution. And paying for her own ticket was one of her ways of doing that.

The flight is short, a quick jaunt compared to the arduous trips across the Atlantic, both her and Harry were quite used to from their work and family lives. He smiles at her throughout the journey, coming across the aisle often to check on her and pet Rori. He would make little jokes that wouldn’t make anyone else laugh but them and he would grab the airpod she would take out and play whatever she had been listening to and offer a dance. His little dances were so sweet, if strange and awkward in the small flight cabin.

She wore grey marbled leggings and a matching thick strapped tank top beneath a nondescript hoodie. Harry’s dressed quite nice for traveling, she presumes in case he’s papped. Linen trousers, a collared coat, and some beaded necklaces he had taken to wearing over the last few months - each month seemed to add on another necklace, but she wasn’t counting.

He had reminded her to bring large sunglasses for the airport.

He had said “I don’t care if we’re seen together, but it’s more for your comfort. I hate when my friend’s lives are put on display for the whole world. You’re not the one who signed up for this.”

She had been appreciative and grabbed her largest pair of sunglasses because truthfully she didn’t want to be seen with Harry. She didn’t want the whole world knowing her or her business, it wasn’t who she was. No, not at all. So when they step off the plane and head to baggage claim after customs, she feels aware of her surroundings in a way she never has been. It reminds her of the way Jeff, Charlotte, and Mitch had conducted themselves in the bar that one time. Extremely alert. Watching people’s eye movements and considering whether they recognized her companion. She trails behind him a fair amount, three paces at least. Harry glances back every few moments, checking in to make sure she’s still with him as they move through the bustling airport.

They make it to baggage claim with no stops, but sadly Harry’s luggage seems to give him away. That or just his presence, he was a 6 foot tall and extremely broad man who gave off this energy that couldn’t help but turn eyes. And all it took was one of those eyes to recognize the fluff of hair, the olive-y skin, the peaking bird tattoos and colorful necklaces to alert the world of just where he was.

He doesn’t get stopped for any pictures, but she feels the number of eyes on him grow. She also watches as Harry doesn’t shrink from the growing attention. If anything, it simply makes him move quicker, but only slightly. He glances at her once to see her hood up and big green glasses covering up half her face. Rori has left his carrier and is covering the other half as she pushes a cart in front of her. He makes a nondescript nod and then sets off towards the exit, she follows behind easily.

By the time they’re in the car that was waiting to drive them to Harry’s villa, he’s gotten buzzed by Jeff just to check-in since a few photos have been uploaded of him at the airport. People were so fast. She shook her head in disbelief as she looked up Harry Styles on twitter and saw the scene she had just been apart of minutes ago on her screen now. She’s unrecognizable in the photos she happens to appear in and to everyone else she looks like another traveler instead of Harry’s companion or whatever she was to him. Instead of his friend.

Harry calls Jeff as they’re driven to his lovely sprawling home near Lake Como. He informs him they’re fine - he is quick to ensure that Y/N is well after asking her himself once they had gotten into the confines of the small car. She thinks it’s sweet especially because she was sure that Jeff really was more focused on Harry and his well-being since he was both his friend and his client while she was just an extra. The two men talk about the flight and customs and what Jeff will be doing with his holiday since he had turned down Harry’s invitation to come out to Italy as well. This leaves her to stare out the window at the passing scenery. She and Rori are completely content with this as they watch the tranquil life around them as they pass by little forests and towns over cobblestoned ground.

The colors seem brighter throughout Italy compared to the sad and gloomy winter of London. The dreary scape traded for something far more picturesque. Italy growing ever more beautiful the closer they drive to Harry’s home. Everything was so radiant, from the sun shining above her head to the little dew drops still pooled on the perfectly green leaves of plants she knew not the names of.

The car pulls up to the long driveway to Harry’s place which he insisted was just a house, but she knew better. The driveway felt like half a mile of perfect cobblestones, seemingly handpicked to make the smoothest drive. Outside the house sat a gorgeous little convertible that was in between steel and cream and sparkled in the sun. The top was currently up, but she could tell the interior was just as nice as the exterior. Harry had a thing for cars and she suspected that no matter where he was, he managed to keep his cars in perfect condition.

The house was breathtaking due to its simultaneous simplicity and intricacy. It’s coloring was variations of cream and gold and some terra cotta. But it sprawled into the hillside behind it and wrapped around the nature to the side of it and the pool to the back right of it. There also was a little separate shed like thing that also seemed to be a residence. Harry insisted it was just an extra bedroom, but it looked like almost another house to her.

As she stepped out of the car, she thought that she might get lost in that house if she was left to wander around it by herself. A feeling she feared to get accustomed to.

The door of the house was a dark green that seemed oddly familiar to her as she walked through it. And when Harry looked back to make sure she had gotten in the house alright she recognized it. His door somehow matched the color of his eyes in dark lighting. A green that was timeless and ancient at the same time. A green that was unnerving yet inviting. A green that was Harry. She never thought she had a favorite color, but in that moment she was sure it was his eyes.

Harry calls her name and she realizes he’s been saying it for awhile.

“Sorry?”

He smiles fondly at her confused face and leans towards her as if he might kiss her. She stops breathing in that moment, wanting more than anything for that to be his next move. His chest brushes against hers, his warmth invading her space. His face is a mere milimeter from hers and she can count every speck of stubble on his jaw. But his lips don’t brush gently over hers in a way that she knew was addicting. Instead, his strong hand reaches past her and shuts the entrancing green door gently.

His eyes flicker back to her face when he pulls back, taking a single step backwards to allow for a comfortable space between them. Still close, but not like he’s about to embrace her expecting frame and kiss her.

“I asked if you wanted a tour of the house? Or if you just wanted me to pick your room.” His eyes are crinkled at the corner, a smile on his face even though his mouth is hung open in a lingering question.

She blinks her eyes and twitches her head to glance around the rest of her surroundings. Rori had run off the moment they had gotten in the door. The hallway Harry and she found themselves was narrow and simple, a single painting right behind Harry’s head was the sole decoration and a tapestry style rug beneath their feet. She nods after a moment, feeling all her words caught somewhere in her throat for no reason at all.

“Good,” he nods and gives her a funny look, trying to understand her quiet demeanor. “Just drop your stuff here for now,” he adds.

His hand encircles her wrist, as it had grown accustomed to, to lead her through the house. She bites her lower lip to muffle the little giggle that somehow escapes her as he tugs her playfully down and through the house.

He goes on about almost every piece of art and trinket he has hung and placed throughout the house. Each thing has its story and Harry waxes eloquent on every single one. He shows her each room in the house and then leads her outside through the single door of the master bedroom on the second floor. The door takes them onto a small balcony that overlooks the center of the estate which included the pool and then a garden to the left of the converted poolhouse - what Harry insisted it be called when Y/N had told him it was a mini house.

His hand has traveled down to intertwine with hers as the tour had drawn on. So as he leads her down the little spiral staircase to the ground floor, she hums at the warmth his thumb rubs into her skin ever so softly. His eyes flicker to her face and hold her gaze for a moment as he watches her descend the last two stairs.

She smiles at him, her cheeks rosy from the air outside. They walk between the garden and the pool to reach the “converted pool house” and she stops for a moment to dance her fingers through the perfectly clean pool water - he must have had a housekeeper who came by recently to open everything up and clean it all.

“This is truly amazing, Harry,” she sighs as she stares out at the entire house from the single stone upstep to the little cottage. It gave her a view of the entire place besides the front of the house. It was gorgeous.

Harry nods, tucking his head to his chest slightly, possibly feeling a little bashful. Behind the successful man that stood before her was a young boy with a dream that had made this possible and he never forgot that.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely and unlocks the door of the cottage, a similar green is painted on this door as well.

She goes ahead of him at his request and he watches her fingers on the green paint, caressing it softly, each finger never wishing to leave it as they slowly depart its surface. This place is just a microcosm of the house they had just been. A kitchenette, a living area, a bedroom, and a full bath - including a freestanding tub.

She all but runs around the place, fingers running over the countless spines of books that Harry mindlessly chose to store there in ceiling high bookshelves and eyes taking in prints of personal photography he had been too nervous to store anywhere but here. There were larger poster sized prints as well as smaller ones, all black and white, of different scenes on the walls of the living area. Some were portraits of loved ones, others were landscapes of cities and countryside alike, and some were of past lovers with their hair swept behind them as they looked back at Harry in some beautiful place. She smiled at these obviously film photographs and turned to Harry after a moment, almost mirroring the people in the more personal pictures.

“When’s the last time you used your camera?” She asks.

Harry’s figure is perched in the door, his body slightly slumped on the frame while he rolls his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. He hums, thinking back to the last time he took out his camera.

“Last tour...I think. I got film back with Camille in it and I just didn’t feel like putting more in it after that,” he rasps out and clears his throat at the end, clearly unnerved by the topic.

“Well, these are beautiful, you have a smart eye for catching precious moments,” she smiles softly, understanding Harry’s apprehension.

“Thanks,” his voice still a bit deeper than usual, “I still use my Super8 pretty regularly when I’m doing things for work. Like when I shoot music videos, I usually bring it along to get my own footage for later.”

She only nods and watches him enter the room, moving closer to her to gaze at the images more up close as well.

“I like to have something to remember it by. Just in case, someday,” he starts and sighs, eyes trained on the wall of memories, “My mind isn’t what it once was.”

She watches him delicately place his hand on the couch behind them to brace himself and she notices the slight fear in his face as he says it. She blinks at the scene in front of her. A man in an amazing moment in his life fearful that it might all disappear from his vision someday. A horrible thought that seems to plague him more often than one would expect.

She nudges closer to him immediately. Her shoulder brushes his arm as she presses her head to his own shoulder and stays there firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers and his head drops down to look at her face now radiating warmth against him. “For sharing this with me.”

His hand on the couch moves to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his waist and he rests his head atop of hers. He stays silent but places a chaste kiss in her hair. She squeezes harder, telling him everything is alright and all he had to be with her was himself.

He switches his gaze between the girl wrapped up in him and the pictures of the rest of his life in front of him and he takes it all in. He feels safe, a comfort he was hard pressed to find with his life always on the move. The bustling change felt eons away while he was wrapped up in her. She was constant and kind. Understanding. She took him as he was, no expectations. That realization has him melting further into her, his head dropping down to her shoulder and nosing into her hair. His hands cusping at the back of her neck and the small of her back. And he presses firmly yet gently.

They stand there, swaying slightly to an unknown tune that played only in their private world of just them two.

A branch sways too and breaks them out of their reverie when it taps against the French doors that lead out to somewhere else in Harry’s estate.

“I think I’d like to stay here, if that’s alright,” she says, pulling back from him only slightly.

His hands migrate from their embrace around her back and neck and slide to her hip and her shoulder separately. Her hands both rest on his chest and she feels his consistent heartbeat that she had been listening to for the last few minutes against her ear.

His eyes sparkle at her suggestion. “Really? There’s plenty of spots in the main house,” he rushes.

“No, I love this place,” she glances around once more, soaking in the cozy room that housed Harry’s art. “Plus, your family will be here tomorrow and you should all be together under one roof for the holidays. I know how rare that can be.”

He nods in agreement and twists a tendril of her hair around one of his fingers slowly. She doesn’t notice until he makes an experimental and playful tug on it. Her lips purse at the feeling and her eyes narrow.

“You’re an evil little thing under all those layers of niceties and kind words, Mr. Styles,” she says as she pulls away from him.

Now that it was decided on where she would be staying for the next few weeks, she wanted to get her things settled and take a shower possibly. She also needed to check in on Rori and see what he had gotten up to while they had been wandering.

Harry laughs, filled with an unmatched glee as he follows her out of the cottage and back into the main house, “I can show you evil if that’s what you want, dove. I’ll give you anything you want.”

And while she knows he’s saying this in jest, she knows he’s also telling the truth. He’d give her just about anything she wanted, all she had to do was ask.

-

After settling the house a bit, finding where Rori wanted to sleep - he chose inside the main house, and some showers, she and Harry both felt refreshed.

She walked out of the front door of the cottage and crossed to the French doors at the middle point of the house. They had them open to get fresh air in the house and she walked right through and into the kitchen where she found Harry and her dog happily perched on the countertop.

Rori batted at Harry’s hands and nuzzled into his scratches as Harry cradled him to his chest. It was criminally sweet and she knocked on the door frame to pull Harry’s attention away from her furry friend.

“You look nice,” Harry smiles.

She glances down at her outfit; a cashmere olive colored sweater and high waisted cream corduroys along with her sneakers of choice. She thought it was casual, but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. She murmurs a thanks and a quick “you too”, she didn’t even need to look at what he was wearing, he always looked good. Her head tilts to rest on the door frame as well, her eyes trained on Harry’s face.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He inquires as he places Rori back on the ground.

The dog scampers to her side for a moment before running off to do his own thing. Her lips quirk up on the sides and her eyes narrow slightly. He’s looking at her with a quiet confidence set in his jaw that she doesn’t quite understand.

His smile makes her bite her lip, slightly unnerved by the energy he was giving off. Maybe it was because they were completely alone - not something new to them since that’s how they interacted almost solely, but something about being in Italy seemed to have shifted the dynamic. Something in the water or whatever that saying was.

“Do I get to drive?” She stands from her leaning position and crosses in front of him.

His laugh comes out quickly and heartily. “No chance, dove.”

She groans and pushes at his shoulder.

“Trust me, you’ll like it better. Can just enjoy the scenery, don’t have to focus on the road.”

He wraps a hand around her waist and then scoots her towards the door that would lead them out of the house. She giggles at the contact and she feels him watching her. It felt nice, felt simply theirs.

He drove her down the driveway and onto a country road until it merged into a road by the lake. He brought the top down so the wind rushed around them, blustering about as he drove at a quick yet somehow leisurely pace. She glanced at the scenery and took a few pictures, but something else kept demanding her attention.

Harry. He was a quiet kind of handsome in this moment. It wasn’t in your face, it was just how each curve of his skin seemed perfectly placed. Every pore was clear and every mole had a reason. His tattoos peeking from his collar and shirt sleeves were that perfect inky black that remained smooth. It was consistent, the way his hair fell over his forehead and he would smooth it back without even thinking. His eyes were focused and bright, yet slightly stormier than normal. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And she wondered what she had done to be beside him at that moment. Wondered what it was that she had done to be cared for by Harry.

His hand on her leg brings her out of her mind once again. His looks always seemed to get her lost in thought. He was just that special. No one else had ever caused any similar reaction. His fingers splay on her thigh, no rings on them today. He rubs his thumb back and forth softly and she leans closer to him to whisper in his ear. They were completely alone, but it felt like something even the wind didn’t deserve to hear.

He tilts his head to her, eyes flickering to her movement for a moment and then back to the road. His hand on her thigh slips upwards with how she moves.

“I’m the most lucky girl in the world,” she says, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she says the words.

She pulls back and stares at him, her hand going down to her thigh to play with his lovingly. He looks at her again and sees her serious expression. This causes him to pull over on the side of the road by the water. He rubs at her thigh again with his thumb and she shifts in her seat.

“And why’s that?” His voice low as he asks and shifts the car into park.

“Because I’m here, with you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this world.”

He hums in response and licks at his lips when her sweater happens to fall off her shoulder. She notices the slip, but doesn’t bother to fix it since she also saw how Harry’s eyes danced over the newly exposed skin.

“I wouldn’t trade this either” the words dance slowly off the tip of his tongue. His accent fuller as he says the last word. “Let’s walk around,” Harry suggests when he sees her eyes flicker between his and his lips.

They explore the grassy area that lives just before the dip of the water at Harry’s request. He guides her along with his hand entwined with hers. Her eyes stay on only him still, the scenery unable to compare to the beauty of him that she was just fully realizing how bad she wanted to be enveloped in. His profile is illuminated by the sun shining above them and she swears he’s sparkling under the light.

The fear of what they were and all of the things that came along with labels were the furthest away thoughts. The man who had been the quirky neighbour had transformed into the man she was pretty sure she was in love with. Too afraid to say those three words, she decided the best thing she could do was to show rather than tell.

“Harry,” she calls and he stops his wandering, turning to face her instead.

A hand reaches up to trace over his strong cheekbone and caresses down the side of his face and cradles his slightly stubbled jaw. Her thumb rubs over the place where his dimple often showed up. He sighs into her touch and says her name back. His voice fails him as he gazes down at her, everything he means to say dies in his throat, for once at a loss for words.

She purses her lips and reaches up to connect their lips, having missed his sweet lips touch. They were meant to press against hers. Harry seems to forget how to breathe, her initiating the kiss between them, something foreign to him, but not unwelcome. He leans down to make it easier on her and she glows in his reciprocation. His hand shifts to cradle the back of her head as the kiss continues. Their lips dance, brushing back and forth, tongues slightly licking into one another’s mouths ever so delicately, playfully even.

A specific clash of teeth as the kiss continues leads to a breathless laugh from her as Harry presses himself closer to her. His other hand pressing her waist safely into him. She happily obliges, sinking one hand to rest over his backside which makes him smile.

“Naughty,” he mumbles against her brightening lips, eyebrows bobbing over his closed eyes.

She laughs now, her head tilting up for a moment, eyes opening to look at his face, yet up so close it's just his eyes and upper cheeks. His eyes are extra large from this angle and the grey green they had been dancing between had merged into a darkening seafoam green that was rather rare for them. She wanted to take an inventory of every color his eyes managed to be, but she was sure the list would never end.

“You like it,” she quips back, a peck sneaked at the corner of his mouth. That little love touch leads to more minutes of making out. Her supple and soft chest against his strong one, hands roaming the other’s body searching for purchase. Soft sighs and gentle moans leave Harry’s mouth when she nibbles at his ear and leaves loving kisses to his neck and collarbone. She makes similar sounds when he laves his tongue over the hollow of her neck and mouths happily on her neck.

The sight of them is two lovers enthralled in each other’s mouths and bodies in a meadow beside a lake. The sounds of nature are only overtaken by their happiness with each other.

When he ruts his hips against her body and she writhes against him with eagerness previously not seen, Harry realizes just how in public they are and he pulls away. A whine of discontent falling from her lips before she can control herself.

“We should…” He falters again, staring down at his neighbour he had begun to want more than anything else in the world, “Should head back.”

“Right,” she nods curtly.

Hands falling back to her sides, but Harry grabs one of them and intertwine their fingers as they had them before. She smiles so wide her eyes crinkle at the corners and he can’t help himself to peck at the left side of her temple.

They drive back to the house and Harry suggests a dip in the pool which Y/N agrees to easily. Something to cool them off from the heavy makeout session they had partaken in down by the water.

“Everyone else is arriving tomorrow,” Harry says after he surfaces from his expert dive into the deep end. He treads water lightly and drifts towards her.

She’s floating on her back a little ways from him. Her hair was shimmery all wet again and the  skin of her face glowed with tiny droplets. Her eyes were closed as she moved her hands back and forth through the comfortable water.

She feels his eyes on her, burning into her, waiting for a response. She peaks open one eye and looks at him. His cheeks pinken quickly from the slight embarrassment of being caught, but he doesn’t look away.

“It’s going to be really fun, Harry,” she rights herself and swims closer to him causing him to smile happily. “I’m really happy to be here.”

“It won’t be just us anymore,” he says, swimming backwards and creating a slight chase for her as she follows after him.

She narrows her eyes at his tactics, but still follows as he swims to the edge of the pool where they could both stand.

“Nope, but we’re gonna really get the holiday spirit flowing. Family dinners and games, shopping for gifts...this really is one of my favorite times of the season,” she smiles back at him and puts her hand against the edge of the pool, her chest emerging from beneath the cooling water.

Droplets roll down her chest, racing down her body and in between her cleavage. Harry’s eyes follow the water droplets disappearing beneath her bright red tied bikini top. He gets distracted when the air pebbles her nippls beneath the thin wet fabric, his tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight. The round of her breast was especially full in the thin fabric. He had never seen this much of her despite their friendship lasting for many months now. It was...mouthwatering and his eyes stayed trained on her breasts as they rhythmically moved up and down with her breathing. It was like a spell.

That he was brought out of when a splash of water flicks at his face. She gives him an obvious look saying she had caught him staring and then she rolls her eyes at his smirk obviously not embarrassed by his latest fixation.

“We won’t be alone like this,” he steps closer to her, his own chest running with water droplets. His hair messy and wet atop his head as he pushes it off his forehead. “Possibly at all for the next three weeks,” he continues and hears her breath catch as he moves even closer. His body hovers a moment away from hers as he stares down at her. His nose almost brushes hers as he starts to lean down. She stays almost completely still. Her head moves though to allow Harry access to where his mouth seems to be headed, the side of her neck.

“After today,” he whispers before smudging an open mouthed kiss just below her ear.

A small gasp escapes her at his hot breath and a searing kiss against her chilled skin. She feels his smirk on her skin as he continues down her neck, leaving spongy eager kisses down the column.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a problem,” she tries to remain composure, feeling the burn inside of her pitch back up. The fire had dulled from the kissing by the lake once they had swam, but here he was pressing into her once again. Suddenly more eager and forward than he had ever been. Her breathing is hard to regulate with his expert hands running along her naked sides below the water and his legs backing her into the edge of the pool while his lips make love to her neck.

“Oh?” Harry hums, moving a hand up to fiddle with a strap of her top, the wet nylon twisting easily and then he lets it snap back softly. Her arousal only grows from the tiny smack. “Not a problem, eh?” His lips travel down between her breasts and she gasps in anticipation.

“Won’t be able to make you feel this good anytime you want,” he breathes and then ghosts over her covered pebbled nipple.

“You’re a tease, Harry,” she grips at his shoulders that are hunched to allow him to kiss on her. Her eyes having the perfect view of his curved neck and spine, the skin an expanse of clear perfect flesh, no tattoos in sight from this angle. The little curls at the nape of his neck trickling with spare droplets as he sucks on her own skin.

“Hmm…” his lips travel back up to the underside of her jaw causing her to tilt her head back and her stimulated chest to press into Harry’s. A chuckle passes against her skin as he feels her two points press into him.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back and grips at the back of her head to make her look at him. His eyes are deep and dark as the day starts to wear on, the sun beginning to set off in the distance.

“Maybe I need to demonstrate just what you’ll be missing out on?” He tilts his head at his suggestion and the glimmer in his eyes shows that he knows exactly what he has to say to get his friend - and soon to be lover - riled up.

Her chest heaves once, longing for the warm touch of Harry’s lips again. “What are you getting at?”

“Wanna make you feel so good you’re begging me to call my family up and tell them to not bother coming because we won’t be leaving your bed for the next few weeks.”

A breathless laugh leaves her, in disbelief, but also in wanton need. Her desire for him grew tenfold in the last ten minutes. His last sentence leaves her itching with longing. For his touch as he promised it.

“Give me the best you got then,” she challenges, her conviction never wavering despite her needy state.

That little sentence is what sets Harry’s eyes ablaze and has him gripping her waist and picking her up and setting her on the edge of the pool.

A quick press of his lips against hers and a “wait here” before he’s pulling himself from the water and shuffling to grab one of the towels he had laid out. She watches him curiously, confused why he had just promised to ravage her but was pausing to towel off.

He comes back with the towel and lays it behind her.

“Harry, what are -”

A finger presses to her swollen lips as his other hand goes to her shoulder and lays her back.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

She nods, eyes wide and glassy as she stares up at him kneeling over her, his body between her bent knees. He leans down to press another kiss to her lips and then begins his decent.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Down her throat that he had happily been sucking on. His lips ghost over her still hard nipples and his hot breath has her arching off the ground immediately. A whine leaving her lips when he mouths between her two breasts in the valley just above the tie of suit. His fingers dance around on her skin, playing with her swimsuit fabric and she wants to scream at him to just untie it and really touch her, but she refrains. He continues his assault down her body. His hands grip at her knees when his lips travel below her navel. Her breaths have grown more strained as he’s gotten closer and closer to her heat. The cold wet fabric that covered her was a poor substitute to what she wanted to rub against her.

“Please,” she begs in a sigh as Harry’s lips skip where she wants him, instead traveling to her upper inner thigh.

He spreads her legs wider with his arms and her back arches further, her body just about fully on display for Harry. His eyes flicker up to her face that was staring right back down at him, watching his every move.

The cheeky bottoms left little to the imagination and the ties on the sides were so enticing Harry’s fingers smoothed up her thighs and began to toy with them. His face now hovering over her clothed center. His breath fanning the flames of her arousal just below the cherry fabric.

“See,” he smirks, eyes back on her face, “I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already begging.

“You’re an ass,” she grits out, trying to not be bothered by how easily he has gotten her in this position.

He clicks his tongue and tugs experimentally at one of the bottoms ties, “S’not a very nice thing to say to the man who’s about to stick his tongue in ya’?”

She gasps and slaps at his right shoulder at his crudeness. “You’re dirty!”

“And you’re wet,” he says confidently, smirking up from between her legs.

His fingers finally tug the ties undone and pull the fabric away from her center. The red bikini bottom falls limply to the ground and Harry’s eyes train on her glistening mound. Wet with the pool water as well as her arousal. To add to the cool air ghosting over her newly exposed skin, Harry blows his own breath over her. She writhes at the sensation, she bites at her lip to hold back any possible moans.

He glances at her face again and settles one arm to be wrapped around her leg and pressing down on her left hip. His other hand snakes between his face and her body and lightly drags between her folds. She bucks her body again, completely in need of some friction after all of the build up and teasing of today. Every nerve down there was electrified at the possibility of Harry finally touching her like this.

His finger pulls back and a string of arousal clings to him, a testament to the filthy thoughts she had about her neighbour. Thoughts she had pushed away for so long until recently. Thoughts she only indulged in in the dead of night, when she was exhausted but her mind insisted on wandering to the green sharp eyes that might stare at her if he ever were to delve into her depths. Her hands would travel to where he was now and rub out a triumphant shake of her thighs and heaving chest all in hopes that maybe he would bring her to that euphoria himself one day. Well that day was today.

He filthily takes that finger into his mouth and grins.  “So wet,” he corrects.

His eyes disappear from view as he launches into his work. His drying curls flop over his forehead and tickle at her lower stomach slightly. He flattens his tongue and licks a strong stripe between her folds. The wet from her weeping hole spreads to her lips and around her clit as his finishes the lick with a little swirl. He uses his free hand to spread apart her lips a little more and takes the new angle to suck on the little puffy nub that is already throbbing. She gasps audibly when he pulls off of it with a squelching sound.

“Fuck,” he sighs and goes back to eating her out, happily pressing his tongue into her.

His hand on her hip travels to grope at one of her breasts and he deftly pulls at the top’s tie and grips onto her skin underneath the fabric. The strong grip mixed with his expert work between her thighs has her moaning loudly and her body writhing as he builds her up.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasps, thumb on her nipple flicking happily back and forth. “Scream it out,” he says into her quivering center, “Nobody around to hear you, be as loud as you want.”

She moans louder at his words, her hands gripping harder into his hair. The thought of this scene turns her on even more. In all honesty, if someone did hear them she’d kind of like it. If someone walked in and saw her stretched out next to the pool with their wet bodies writhing against each other in pleasure. Harry’s head buried between her thighs making her feel better than she ever has, her breasts falling out of their top as he massages them harshly.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, lapping at her tight hole, the muscle contracting against his tongue’s invasion.

She liked how messy he got with it, not that she really had much coherent thoughts in this moment. But his hot tongue swiping up and down and back and forth over her glistening lips and sucking on her clit left her breathless. Her juices and his saliva were making a mess of her thighs and the towel below her. When Harry felt her getting closer he’d back off and pay attention to another part of her and then go back to sucking and nipping perfectly into her.

She was eventually stuttering out, “I’m going to cum, Harry.” Breathing becoming uneven as she was about to tip over the edge. He nods, sucking harder at her clit one last time before taking his tongue and pushing it in and out of her hole, one of his thumbs traveling to rub over her clit in quick succession.  

“Cum for me, dove,” he mumbles quickly before going back to making her feel good.

She grips her own nipple now with one hand and Harry’s hair with the other, her hips pushing up into Harry’s face over and over again. And then she’s hitting her climax and tipping over the edge, a moan ripping from her throat and freezing on her face as Harry eats her out through it. His tongue licking over her quivering pussy. His thumb rubbing comforting circles around her clit until she stopped shaking. Her breathing slowing down, eyes fluttering open eventually. They lazily stare at the man below her who’s lips and chin are slick with her juices as he grins up at her.

“Do you want me to call my mum now or wait until you’re fully back on earth,” he says slyly and kisses the inside of her thigh once more. Eyes lovingly staying on her pleasured out face.

“Seriously talking about your mom while you’re still between my thighs,” she breathes out, completely in disbelief. Harry and her had never gone that far before and it was life changing. He had been right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t sure if she could go three weeks without that again.

He sits up and begins to gently pull back on her swim bottoms and tie them back up. She lays there watching him work.

“How about now?” He asks with a smirk, moving to sit beside her and help her sit up when her bottoms have been readjusted. The fabric against her newly sensitive area was definitely interesting, but she couldn’t care with Harry beside her. She ties off her top on her own, even though Harry gestured that he could do it.

“Shut up,” she laughs and takes a hand to caress at his cheek.

He nuzzles into her touch.

“You forget I’m staying in the cottage...separate from everyone else,” she winks at him.

“Think they’ll still be able to hear ya’ from in there, dove. You’re a loud one,” he bites the inside of his cheek as he teases her.

She huffs and drops her hand, “I was gonna return the favor, but now I don’t think so.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh and reach out to her face, he pulls her face close to his, bringing her eyes level with his. “I’m just teasing. Plus, you don’t need to return the favor, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

A laugh bubbles from her lips at the thought of Harry wanting her as much as she wanted him and she pecks at his lips. She grimaces only a little, tasting herself on him still.

“We’ll just have to be sneaky,” she pulls back and rests her forehead against his.

“Yeah,” Harry breaths out. His breath hitches when he feels her hand begin to trail down his chest and fiddle with the hem of his shorts. Her eyes are trained on his, expressionless like she wasn’t beginning to palm his hardened length over his sticky swim shorts.

“I told you,” he musters, “You don’t have to.”

“But,” she rasps, finally. “I want to,” she licks her lips with determination, “Want to make you feel good, too.”

He hums as her soft fingers go back up to the hem of his shorts and he helps her pull them down as he gives a nod of approval to her watching eyes.

Her eyes widen when his length is finally revealed and its bright red tip stands tall and strong against Harry’s stomach, placing itself slightly just below one of the ferns. Harry watches her lick at her hand and then places it between his thighs, her body positioned right next to him. On her knees, she makes an experimental first pump, seeing how his body responded. Her eyes mainly watch his face and an open mouthed smirk twitches onto his face when he notices her gaze. She pumps him again, twisting her wrist this time and swiping at the precum leaking from his tip. A groan leaves Harry’s mouth at that and his stomach flexes, the skin beneath his many tattoos hardening.

“Feel good?” She inquires.

“Great,” he breathes out as she leans forward on her knees and attaches her mouth over his head.

She slowly moves her head down and attempts to fit his entire length into her mouth, but despite her best efforts, she can’t quite get her throat to open up for his entirety yet. After holding him there for a moment, his head scratching at the back of her throat, she pulls off. Heaving a sigh and continuing to work him with her hand, her now glassy eyes look at him. Saliva gathers at her mouth and Harry can’t help himself but reach one of his hands from behind him to her lips. He swipes at it and presses the wet to her lips which she sucks at eagerly, a whine hidden beneath the action.

When his hand pulls away she says, “You’re quite girthy.”

“Girthy?” He sputters, both at the funny comment but also that she’s said it while still jacking him off.

“Mhmm,” she nods seriously, “Couldn’t get you all in.”

“That’s alright,” he starts, but falters on a specifically masterful tug. She grins, knowing what she's doing to him. “You seem to excel, no matter the setbacks.”

“I’ll get it eventually,” she begins to speed up her strokes, “Just need a bit of practice.”

Then her lips are pressing back onto Harry’s prick. She sucks solely at his head and Harry moans out as he gets more sensitive. Then she slides down further and bops her head vigorously. She wants Harry to come undone for her just like she had for him. Make him feel like she had moments ago. And within a few more minutes of enthusiastic sucking and pumping of her hands, even some fondling of his balls which Harry had been extremely receptive to, she has him stuttering beneath her.

One hand gripping at her hair, while the other keeps him upright, Harry’s head is thrown back on his shoulders as he tries to keep his eyes open and trained on the girl taking him so well down her lovely little throat.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he pants, his hips bucking up once as he begins to lose control.

This only spurs her forward, spit drooling down his cock every time she pulls back from his slightly. Her ass is high in the air now as she arches over his length, trying to get him to unload.

“Taking me so well,” Harry praises. “Fuck,” he exclaims at another squeeze of his balls.

She swirls her tongue around his runny head and then hollows her cheeks and sucks on him with everything she’s got. This has Harry cursing and repeating her name, his load spurting into her mouth as she stays still. His chest now covered in beads of sweat as he tries to catch his breath after tipping over the edge himself. His eyes are trained on her. She keeps her lips diligently around his cock, wanting to swallow everything he’s just expended. When he’s done, she pulls back and sits on her legs, swallowing quickly and staring at Harry as she does it.

His eyes bug at the sight. She was the hottest woman in the world and she’d just sucked him off so well that he’s pretty sure he saw stars. Then she made eye contact as she swallowed his cum with her pretty little bikini barely covering her anymore, as she seemed to shift slightly uncomfortable in her drying bottoms. God, he was fucked.

“Shit,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re an absolute angel.”

-

Harry’s family arrives the next day and the pair have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. She doesn’t know why they decide to start this little game where they pretend like they don’t want to jump each other’s bones each minute of the day. But as the days go by, they maintain to his family and chosen family that they are only neighbours who became friends. Anne gives a knowing look to Gemma every so often and Gemma’s boyfriend whispers in her ear sometimes, but for the most part they buy it.

No one notices that some nights Harry’s or Y/N’s beds are vacant sometimes. They don’t see him descend his spiral staircase at midnight or see her scamper next to the pool and slip into her cottage in the wee hours of the morning.

In the nights, it’s Harry’s soft lips pressed against her hot skin, panting praise and leaving little bite marks that can’t be seen with clothes on. Her lips mouth at his shoulder when fills her up and she exhales a breath that feels like she’s been waiting to let go for her entire life. They make each other feel good and they don’t talk about it but the secrecy of it makes it all the more enticing.

At least that’s what she thinks. Harry had been completely ready to tell his family about him and Y/N, at least that things were new between them, but when she introduced herself to his mum and Gemma she had said she was a friend. Harry had gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing hard, taking in the change of direction and agreeing with Y/N immediately. “Just a friend” he confirmed with a nod of his head and glance at her. She had smiled wide and given a hug to the other most important women in his life like she’d known them forever.

He didn’t understand why she wanted it this way, but his objections would be forgotten when night fell and she’d do the things he’d only dreamt of. Her breathy whimpers and pliant body would all but wipe his mind of any other thoughts but her and then he had no complaints, just a wish for the night to never end.

Y/N doesn’t even tell Cate when she calls her a week into the trip. It’s just something she wants to keep to herself and Harry. Their own private world.

It’s Christmas Eve when that bubble pops. The Champagne has been flowing for hours non stop - well only stopping when a different drink is in their hands, whether that be red or white wine or a mixed drink Harry has decided to concoct.

In the big Italian house, he’s free of prying eyes and he’s able to truly spend quality time with his loved ones. They have fancy dinners at private restaurants, go on gorgeous hikes, swim, and relax. They have a good time with playing holiday games, which they do most nights when they stay in.

Tonight’s the first night that Harry and Y/N haven’t ended up on the same team. He fears that most times he cheats it by swapping a paper or two, but tonight the alcohol has fizzed his brain and he forgot. This shouldn’t be a problem, not really. Except that everyone in the house has learned over the past week and a half that besides being perfectly matched in almost everything else, Harry and her are both equally and extremely competitive. Being on the same team has both advantages and avoids squabbles like the one the house has found themselves in at half past 11.

Harry’s arguing that his team got the last question before the buzzer went off, but she won’t back down. She is sure that Gemma had said the correct answer, but after the timer had run out. Everyone else was too sauced to care, but Harry and her were adamant and passionate about game play. As the argument heats up, Anne gives Gemma another one of those looks.

Y/N has stood up and crossed the short distance to Harry. She’s a breath away from him and he puffs up his chest, his eyes dark and serious as he’s ready to fight for this win all night.

“The time was out,” she says simply, but her eyes are beginning to glower.

“No. It was not.” He states back.

His eyes narrow at her as she stares right back at him.

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

They go back and forth, rapid fire as the alcohol in their veins flows straight to their mind and hearts.

“Children please!” Gemma exclaims,  finally growing tired of the bickering. “It’s Christmas. Harry show some spirit and let your guest have the final say.”

They think she’s done but then adds, “Or else she might never want to come back here.”

Harry exhales harshly through his nose as his gaze flickers to his older sister and listens to her scolding. Handing over the timer to Y/N, which had been what kept them from moving on, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

“Oh gosh,” Y/N says after a moment, her frazzled mind processing that Harry’s leaving has something to do with her. A hand goes to her lips for a moment, a ghost of his warm breath still there, but gone too soon.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” she confirms and exits the room, following Harry’s footsteps.

She finds him on his front porch step, his breath misting in the cold air, much like it would back in London when they’d walk the neighbourhood streets together.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, placing a hand on his left shoulder to really get his attention.

He turns from looking out at the clear night sky, his nose and cheeks already pinkened from the night breeze. His eyes are still dark out here, but there’s no malice or anger behind them. His lips tilt up on one side for a forgiving half smile, but there’s also some pain mixed in there.

“You wouldn’t not come back, right?” He asks helplessly, his smile faltering.

She swallows, taken aback by the question, both unsure of where it came from but also how exactly her drunk brain was supposed to respond with the double negatives.

“I’d come back next Christmas and the Christmas after that, Harry,” she whispers, “If you wanted me to of course.”

“Of course I’d want you to. I want you, sweetheart. All the time.” His voice isn’t slurred, but it’s raspy, a slight dry mouth from all the alcohol consumed tonight.

“Okay,” she confirms, “Then I’ll come back.”

They stand on the porch silently for a few minutes, eyes on one another, but no movement towards anything. It’s not a profound moment for their hazy minds, despite the meaning behind their words. It’s not quite clicking for them, but maybe tomorrow when they wake up with massive headaches it will register.

“I really am sorry,” she repeats when she sees little goosebumps begin to prick at his skin.

He had forgotten a jacket. And while his drunk blanket makes him immune to the feelings, her brain still registers that she doesn’t want him to get sick.

“S’alright. For what it’s worth, I was being a little childish. So, m’sorry too.” He says sincerely, maybe a little slurring of words slipping in.

He reaches a hand out of his pocket to touch at her upper arm. She can feel his warmth from beneath her thin long sleeve. They smile at one another and turn to reenter the house, feeling the giggly tide of alcohol wash over them again. Euphoria on their mind rather than family game malice.

Just as they’re about to open the door to the house. The two of them at the precipice of a house, a place they often find themselves, Gemma swings it open face and with little care for its heaviness. She glances between her brother and his “friend”  and then up to the top of the door.

The top of the door? Why was she looking at the top of the door? Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Gemma exclaims, pointing between the two of them. “You’re beneath the mistletoe, go on!”

Harry shakes his head in protest, falling onto the sword of friendship again. But then Y/N is grabbing at the back of Harry’s neck and pressing her lips to his. It’s a little sloppy, but Harry can’t help but enjoy the taste of her against him. They slot together like they usually do, but this time his sister is watching them, which is a little odd, but his muddled mind quickly forgets that fact. Her tongue is the deciding factor as it licks into his mouth and he licks back, pulling her closer by the waist. They get lost in the kiss and only pull apart when they hear a cough.

Gemma is now accompanied by the rest of the household watching them in disbelief. Everyone’s eyebrows are raised and even Rori is standing with the group, confused that the humans didn’t know they were doing this.

“Erm…” Harry has no idea what to say, shifting to face his family more fully.

Y/N blushes and shrinks into Harry’s chest, feeling like a teenager caught in the closet with her crush.

“That’s not how friend’s kiss one another,” someone murmurs.

There’s a few “I knew it”s mixed in as well with the rest of the chatter.

“Well…” She finally musters and throws a hand out to her side in a ta-da motion,

“Happy Christmas!”

-

After the revelation on Christmas Eve, everyone won’t stop teasing Harry and Y/N. The two laugh it off but something always nags at the back of their head. What they were to the other person. The status of this relationship. This friendship that had taken a turn to something else entirely.

It’s another Eve of a holiday when Harry finally musters up the courage to ask her directly. They learned from Christmas day that they couldn’t drink as much as they once did for multiple reasons. So on New Year’s Eve, they both choose to only consume a couple glasses of Champagne.

It starts with “Can we talk about us?” right after midnight. Right after Harry’s just started the New Year with her lips on his. She hears his question and takes it in, her stomach twisting with nerves and possibly excitement as well, and nods.

They slink off to his bedroom, but not for the activity everyone else was certain they were engaging in.

He sits them on the edge of the bed, both her hands clasped in one of his. He’s been quiet all day, she just realizes as he stays silent another moment longer.

“I love you,” he says in his dimly lit room.

Her jaw drops slightly, not quite expecting those three words yet.

“You don’t, don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted you to know that,” he continues. “And that I want to be with you.”

“Harry,” she starts, breathless at his words.

“No,” he stops her again, “I felt something draw me to you the day you moved in across from me on Sherwood, like I was meant to know you or something.  Then I met you and you made me feel so comfortable, all I wanted to do was be with you and that month when you didn’t really talk to me...dove, those weeks were wretched. But when I came back, it was like nothing happened and I was so happy because I couldn’t fathom life going back to the way it was before you. When we kissed, I felt overjoyed, I was so happy that you liked me like that because every time you called me friend...felt like a knife in me. I don’t want to be just your friend,” he pauses to say her name again, “I don’t want to be just your lover, I want to be your boyfriend or whatever they call it now - If you’ll have me.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the little well up of water that had grown in his eyes. He had forgotten to blink for a moment he realized.

His stare had been intense as he’d confessed all of his feelings to her, but she didn’t feel intimidated, his gaze had warmed her with its sincerity. It had strengthened his confession.

She sighed, her own eyes not as strong as his, unable to hold his gaze as she herself said her own confession.

His hand rests between them on the bed, steadying himself upright with it. She places her own hand over it and their fingers slightly intertwine. She feels him begin to fiddle with her fingers like usual. Like normal.

“Thank you,” she starts, “Of course I’ll have you. All the time, Harry.”  She repeats his words from Christmas Eve back to him.

He starts to interject, the rambling thing, but she tugs at his pointer finger and he takes it as a sign to be quiet.

“I want to be your partner, too. I want it all with you, lover,” she gazes at him now, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek in that moment. “Want it all,” she repeats in a whisper before he’s kissing her again.

Kissing her and kissing her. Over and over again. Because she was his. And he was hers. And it was a happy beginning. A happy new year and a happy new beginning of a relationship that was bound in friendship, born out of proximity, and nurtured by two kindred souls.

And it all started with her parents making her take her dog. Harry really needed to thank that dog for being the best wing man to ever run around on four legs.

-

Who knows who that new client of Y/N’s might be...

[illuminatingnun]

29.6 2022

Still alive, even if it's too hot to exist. I was working the whole of last week, did a weaving workshop at a little afternoon for kids, a Day with Imperial Romans, it was pretty fun. And went to opera yesterday with my roommate! It was amazing, I haven't been to one in years and it was a balm for my soul, amazing scene, truly beautiful, great costumes (especially Desdemona) and the music.... goosebumps. Especially at the beginning, it was so dramatic. Loved it.

Left - shortcute through the train station; middle - cardwoven bracelet, I'm quite proud of it actually; right - poster for the upcoming opera season.

Currently reading: The Sorceress by Michael Scott (love how it took me a week to get through the first book but then I inhaled the second and half of the third book in one day)

Catch up after the cut🌱

Day Eight: What would you say to people that are stuck in a difficult or toxic relationship, be it friendships, romantic relationships or relationships with family?

I'd say get out, but that's not so easy. So probably just that it will be better, they are better off without them and that time and distance help a lot.

Day Nine: What do you do when you're sad? What makes you feel better during difficult or trying times?

Cry. Write poetry. Sleep. Unless I need to be productive, then I just play aggressive music, have a smoke, turn a bit bitter and get shit done. And then I cry and sleep.

Day Ten: Are you writing any papers/ doing thesis work/ journaling) general writing right now? If so, share what you've been working on! If not, share a picture of your favourite set of notes you've written.

I'm not writing anything as of rn, so here they come? I don't have a favourite set of notes, but I do like these:

Day Eleven: What are you're biggest fears? What tips would you give someone trying to overcome their fears?

Being left alone (said the girl who moved out of her country and sees her family and close friends 2-3 times a year). I have a lot of fears, and I don't think I've overcome any of them, just learned how to ignore them. But having a safe space to try and overcome your fear helps. Knowing that even if you fail, it's all alright and you're safe, someone safe is with you and that you're not left alone. Having someone to talk you down does a lot, too.

Day Twelve: What reminds you of home? Share some pictures that you've taken around your city (or your favourite public place or coffee shop to study or read in your city).

Broth. Gardens. Books. Mom's cooking and hugs, dad's jokes and cigarette smell. Our cats. Grandma's perfume. That one watch. I find fields and remízky comforting.

(Picture by my friend when he visited during holidays; river behind our village)

Day Thirteen: What happens when you come across a concept that you just can't wrap your head around in your studies? What tips do you have to make difficult concepts easier to grasp?

Take a break, make tea, open the window. Consult other notes, try to break it down into smaller concepts and try to find the system or parts that I already know/understand. Ask a friend/teacher for help. No, really, take consultations and ask your teachers.

Day Fourteen: Have you ever done a productivity challenge? Were you successful?

Nope and I don't think I will do one anytime soon. I know it just won't work for me and that's fine.

[fatefulfaerie]

Once Upon A Time

Long one shot under the cut. Every once in a while I obsess over Gelato (Roman x Neo) so...yeah...

Spoilers for RWBY: Roman Holiday (read it if you haven’t it’s so good!!)

He didn’t know how to treat it like anything but a heist.

Roman had definitely kissed a girl before, Bleu Berry at the orphanage when he was twelve, Crimsen Blank when he was fifteen, Verd Webster when he was seventeen, and then of course the off and on thing with Chameleon while he worked for Lil’ Miss.

But something about kissing Neo was special, something not to be messed up or done lightly like every other young woman he had kissed. He had to do it right.

It had seemed like a lifetime ago since Roman had planned a heist without Neo, and he found himself at a loss because of it. She really was the brains of their partnership...and the brawn…

Why was he even here?

Neo gave him a distinct look. She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Sorry.”

He was staring again, at her instead of the television. His cover story was that he stared into space when he was really tired.

Lie.

It was really him taking glances from under her nose, like pickpocketing a stranger’s wallet.

Steal.

Cheat.

Survive

Love.

When did that get in there?

Normally when they sat down together to watch the large, holographic screen that emitted from Neo’s facedown scroll -- Roman still hadn’t gotten his hands on a new scroll. He was perfectly able to steal one of course, especially since the Vale City Mall had the most pathetic security. He just kept straight up forgetting -- they were watching themselves on TV, laughing about the coverage of their recent ridiculous robbery and eating spicy hot wings from the Cuckoo Crazy Chicken Shack.

This was the first time that Roman was thinking about someone else while watching his own name flash across the screen.

He was catching feelings for her, and there was no doubt about it. He had been catching feelings ever since she saved his life in the alley where she first showed off her semblance, and then more and more as they spent time together.

Roman pinpointed the moment she showed him the fabulous outfit she had made for him as that oh moment that you read about in romance novels.

Not that he read. He accidentally stole a book once. Once. Neo was the reader. He could hardly summon the patience. When Neo gave him a book to read, he skipped to the end. Roman didn’t see the point in all the rest.

But for some reason with this conundrum, this real-life conundrum, he couldn’t bring himself to skip to the end, to just kiss her like it meant just as much as any other kiss.

He tried to plan it like a heist, watching Neo, memorizing her routine, figuring the best moment of the day to perform the act, but it didn’t work. Neo was too unpredictable. She wasn’t like a bank or a warehouse that had their security guards on the same schedule every day. Her chaos was part of her charm, always doing the unexpected, but Roman was absolutely lost as to when he should make his move, if at all. They had a good thing going here, after all, and for all he knew he could kiss her one second and be knocked out cold the next.

Roman felt a slap on his shoulder and he looked over.

What the hell?

Neo was mute yet Roman could hear her say it. She must have been doing airplane arms before she slapped him.

She pointed at him and then her right ear, her forehead creased with inquisition.

“No, I am not going deaf,” Roman said.

She must have been clapping and snapping to get his attention.

“I’m just thinking,” he explained, the words spilling out just as he realized he might have to come up with an answer for what he was thinking.

But Neo nodded in understanding. What a wonderful human being. She mimed sleep, resting her head on hands that touched palms.

“Yeah,” Roman agreed. “Sleep. Good idea.”

Since his fancy condo was ambushed by Lil’ Miss, the two partners in crime had settled in an abandoned building that had gone from being a restaurant to a convenience store to a nail salon in the span of three months, before being abandoned for a year now. This street was a terrible place for an above-board business and even the Vale Government had let it rot, too small and inconsequential to be made into a factory or a warehouse of any sort.

Neo and Roman found it a week after the skirmish at the Vanille mansion. It was dilapidated and falling apart but it was only as broken as each of them were before they found each other. They quickly saw it as home.

So Roman stood up in order to head towards his bedroll in the corner. Neo watched him with a suspicious eye.

“Now that we’ve done as much damage as we could with the information from Mr. Vanille’s computer…”

Neo had already noticed that Roman never referred to the late Jimmy Vanille as her dad. Biologically he was her dad but he never treated her like a daughter.

“We may as well start on this dust business,” he continued. “Dust Till Dawn seems like the easiest target to me but I’d rather start bigger, something more fun.”

He turned around in case Neo had anything to add but she only stood up and paced towards him, using her semblance to change into Roman Torchwick himself. Roman looked at the mirrored version of himself as Neo made fun of the way he had been acting, staring with a blank expression, losing his train of thought. She then changed back into herself and shrugged her shoulders with her hands up as if to ask him why.

“I…I don’t know.”

He stammered. He rarely stammered.

She crossed her hands over her heart, then offered her hands to him. He knew what that meant.

Can I help?

She was always so thoughtful.

“It, umm…”

He had to be confident about this, he absolutely had to. He was Roman Torchwick, after all, the fabulous, the famous. He was fearless. He was clever and could get any girl he wanted, even the best of the best that stood in front of him. He could do this.

“Roman Torchwick this is the VPD,” a voice bellowed. Roman closed and opened his eyes.

“Why is it never you?” He asked Neo quietly, who was smirking. She stuck out her tongue.

“Come out with your hands up,” the loud voice continued. “We’ve got you surrounded.”

Neo turned back into Roman.

“Meet you at Forever Fall?” He asked.

Neo nodded and ran off to get caught by the police. Roman pocketed Neo’s scroll and grabbed Melodic Cudger and Hush, the two hooks of which clinked in his grasp.

“Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Torchwick,” he heard as he was halfway out the window in the back. Roman froze and listened. He dared to let his vanity doom him. “But I’m afraid it doesn’t do you justice.”

Roman turned his head.

What was that supposed to mean?

He could see the scene barely, through a gap in one of the distant boarded windows. Neo, in his image of course, stood with her hands in surrender.

“A volatile jokester,” the policeman continued, circling around Neo. “Always has something to remark. Doesn’t seem to want to shut up.” He stopped his spherical pacing and turned on his heel. “Do you know where I got these phrases?”

Neo shook her head.

“Vale Police Department records,” he said. “It’s how they describe you, and it’s how I know you aren’t really in front of me right now, are you Torchwick?”

He felt the panic in his heart, he tried to slip out the window but his forehead met a gun as it cocked with a click.

Their strategy had worked twice already, a disguised Neo getting arrested as Roman fled to a rendezvous location. Neo would use her semblance to escape captivity easily and they would have cheated the system. But it seems the police caught on.

Roman was almost impressed as he bumped shoulders with Neo in the back of the cop car, their weapons confiscated and Neo’s scroll slammed in half by the heel of one of the officers. Their hands were literally tied and Roman might have found a way to fight his way out of this but hey, he had never seen the interior of the Vale Police Department before. He figured it was time for a grand tour of the rathole’s rat hole.

“What’s that?” were the next words out of his mouth twenty minutes later. The VPD building was disappointing. Roman regretted wanting a look inside within a couple steps.

“Semblance inhibitor,” the officer replied, latching a second pair of handcuffs onto Neo’s wrists and only Neo’s wrists. “New tech from Atlas. It drains aura.”

Neo looked at Roman with a flash of panic in her eyes. She was always so confident in her chaos that it was a rare sight to see her scared.

“It’s okay,” he managed softly.

“We’re submitting her for questioning,” the officer continued, nearly interrupted as if Roman hadn’t said anything. “And we’re sending you back to Mistral. Lil’ Miss will be elated to learn that you are alive.”

They began to pull them away along two different hallways.

“No,” Roman said, struggling. “No!”

He lurched for Neo with all his might and caught her lips. That one moment of vulnerability where she tried to keep him with her cost him his better sense as he was very nearly yanked away, only seeing Neo’s face in shock.

“She’s mute, you idiots!” Neo heard Roman exclaim. “She couldn’t answer even if she wanted to. You lay a hand on her and so help me gods I’ll--”

A door slammed shut. Neo didn’t get to hear that last bit.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trivia Vanille a.k.a. “Neopolitan”

Height: 4’10”

Age: 19

Prisoner ID Number: 827338

It was the first time in several years that she genuinely smiled in a picture, and it was a mugshot. Although she could see in her file the name that was dead to her, they referred to her verbally only as Neopolitan. The respect made Neo over the moon with happiness, made her almost forget her concern to get out of this without her semblance. The lock on her normal handcuffs were simple enough to pick once she was left alone but the one that shone blue and drained her energy even now would take a bit more creativity.

Roman Torchwick

Height: 5’11”

Age: 27

Prisoner ID Number: 827299

How many times did he have to tell them? He was six foot three. Six. Feet. Three. Inches. They never listened to him and it bothered him that it was on his permanent record that he didn’t measure up to at least six feet. For goodness sake, he was a celebrity. Any dunce on the street knows that he has orange hair, a white jacket, a grey scarf tied around his neck, and dashing emerald eyes. Everyone knows that he gave himself the birthday of October 31st (the mother who abandoned him at the orphanage didn’t care to specify the day that he had an excuse to steal cake) and that he was six foot three. It was on his mugshot and everything. He pleaded until he had two hands on the bars of his temporary holding cell. He was on his knees.

“Lights out.”

He sighed.

“Fine.”

He heard a foot stomp behind him. His cellmate was standing against the barred window that let in only streaks of moonlight, only fractions of nightlife and remnants of an already crumbled world.

He was a quite heavyset man and Roman’s heart skipped a beat. Roman was good in a fight but he wasn’t sure about these odds as he slowly stood up. This guy looked to have the strength of ten men and his arms were crossed.

Descending pink triangles dispelled the illusion and Roman choked a sigh of relief when the burly man turned into the small silhouette of Neo herself. Her hip cocked to the side and Roman knew, although he couldn’t see it, that she was smirking.

Roman rushed forth and hugged her, embraced her desperately like he never had before. He must have really thought they weren’t getting out of this one together.

“How?” he asked when they separated, his eyes searching her moonlit face.

Neo mimed picking a lock but then shook her head. She then mimed smashing her heel into an invisible pair of handcuffs between her two wrists and gave Roman a thumbs up.

“Good to know Atlas technology goes so fancy on design that brute force is the solution to breaking it. Would you like to pick the cell lock or shall I?”

Neo nodded and skipped to do just that, as if that were the easy part. Neo plucked pins from her mess of brown and pink hair and got to work kneeling before the lock and snaking her arms around the other side of the bars. Roman leaned on the bedpost and ignored his actual cellmate, the actual burly, wideset man who was knocked out on the bottom bunk and had a gnarly bruise the resembled Neo’s heeled boots across his face.

“About earlier, I…” Roman hesitated. “I guess I just wanted to apologize if I took you by surprise. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do, don’t get me wrong, I just…”

After several clicks, the door swung open and Neo turned around to face Roman, approaching him. Roman wondered if she had even heard him until she grasped his tied gray scarf and pulled him into her lips. It was all the answer Roman needed as they explored each other’s mouths, Neo slowly backing up and Roman chasing her, walking forward. When she let loose his lips they were out of the cell. She smiled. Roman was absolutely smitten.

She turned into a security guard, one they had seen earlier and she took his hand, Roman giggling under his breath as they fled from the Vale Police Department and into the wild night they had claimed as their own.

The memory became foggy, as it always did. It turned into a million other nights of chaos with him, all melding into a single lifetime that was now deceased. Trivia Vanille once died in the burning rubble of the Vanille Estate and left Neopolitan in her stead, but the moment Neo saw a blinding “X” over Roman’s aura gage a different Neopolitan had emerged. This one wasn’t languishing in her new sense of identity, wasn’t happy beyond belief in her friendship with this Torchwick guy. No, this Neopolitan was in pain, deep soulful, cutthroat, bleeding pain. When she threw a parasol and made her dad bleed she felt nothing. When her parents died because of the dust her dad harbored, she felt free. But when Roman died, she felt grief for the very first time, felt loss and lost in this world that didn’t understand her, would never understand her like he did.

Neo blinked her eyes open.

She liked when her dreams dipped into her memories up until the point where she woke up, where reality reminded her what was past and what was present.

It smelled like blood here. Neo had started to wonder if this is what it was like to be in the womb, gestating, trapped, waiting to be reborn in Salem’s image. The thought made Neo gag. This was the last place she wanted to be, seen as a mere chess piece in Salem’s game. She grew up as a chess piece that had been discarded, then used, then discarded again, like a dirty towel her parents kept forgetting about. What once liberated her was her newfound knowledge that her decisions could be her own but now she was CInder’s helper? beneficiary?

She would have to stomach it until Cinder upheld her end of the deal and got her to Ruby Rose.

Neo pushed against the bed she was assigned and sat up, although she would use the term bed extremely loosely. It was a hunk of red rock and the small room looked like the maw of a Grimm more than anything else. Neo would quantify it to a torture chamber if there wasn’t a small young man literally being tortured a few rooms over. She at least had it better off than him, but that didn’t say much.

Neo steadied her breath and closed her eyes. She thought of him, not the boy who screamed in anguish down the hallway but him. Roman. She thought of his brown, leather slip-on shoes and how much he hated the hassle of tying laces. She thought of his dark grey pants and how they collected around his ankles. She thought of his white coat and remembered tailoring it to his size, remembered thinking of the moment she would surprise him with it. She remembered his gloves and how it felt to be held by those hands. She remember his grey scarf and tried not to think about how it was on her neck instead of his. She tried to think of his piercing green eyes and his pumpkin orange hair, his bowler hat that had a red ribbon and a grey feather. She tried to remember his voice.

She opened her eyes and stood up slowly, pacing towards the illusion she had created, feeling tears sting in her eyes, feeling her heart beat with relief she tried to subdue.

“Neo,” he said softly.

She bawled, tears streaming down her face. She took the hat off her head and put it on her doll. She cupped his face with her hands and found herself missing having to go on her tippy toes like this.

Neo thought she could hold the illusion long enough to at least hug him, to at least derive some comfort from her memories and what her semblance was able to do with them. Yet, the illusion just as soon shattered, crumbling into shards of glass. Neo’s gasp was shaky as she looked down into her palms. Her breaths matched no rhythm and her soul bled as if she had lost him all over again. She looked up.

Cinder.

Her lip quivered. Neo couldn’t help it. Her brow furrowed in anger despite her sadness. The pink and the brown were like flames. And yet Cinder couldn’t even see her hate. No one could see anything of her.

“Salem wants everyone on the bridge,” Cinder said. “Welcome to reality.”

She walked off without a care and Neo fell to her knees, gathering the glass shards. She seethed with anger as she held them delicately in her hands. Her panting increased as balled her hands into fists, not caring in the slightest the sharp pain in her palms or the blood staining her white gloves.

She made a silent promise to Roman then, not to live for herself like she once did but to survive long enough to give Ruby Rose everything she deserved.

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 16

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The sun glared through the thin sheet of the tent, making your listless self stir beneath the blankets draped over your naked body. Cautious not to wake Bucky, who had his arms wrapped around you, you carefully buried your face deeper in his neck but he wasn't that much of a deep sleeper as you thought he would be.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." He said, pulling you closer.

"G'morning." You replied, smiling against his skin. "Have you been awake this whole time?"

"Yes. I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful sleeping."

"Someone tired me out last night."

Bucky chuckled, sending a low vibration on top of your head. "Hmm, how was he?"

"He's pretty good in bed." You chuckled. "But pretty creepy when he refers to himself in the third person."

You stayed right there for another hour — in each other's embrace, in heat, in thin sheets, in profound silence, still taking pleasure in the afterglow of what had transpired last night: the intimacy in each other's skin, of each other's mouths, of each other's everything. A kind of intimacy you never dared share with anyone, not even with your serious ex-boyfriend.

Before the both of you got up and headed down the fire escape and then to the apartment, you had looked at him one last time and asked yourself the same question you had asked Bucky the first time you were here on the rooftop:

"Have you ever felt that kind of feeling?" You asked.

"What feeling?"

"The afterglow feeling."

Was this the kind of afterglow you sought after?

You shook your head, suddenly feeling ridiculous. Perhaps it was the sex; just that. The most amazing, mindblowing sex I ever had in my life, you thought. The more you described it that way while descending down the stairs and entering the apartment through the window (while wearing Bucky's shirt which looked huge on you, by the way), the more you believed it was just because of that. Besides, it was something that had given you sweet, sweet pleasure, something that made me feel like you were high on drugs, something that made you feel alive, something that made you feel things you didn't even know you could — the after of it all, of course, was worth so much more.

You both went straight to the bathroom to wash your faces and brush your teeth as soon as you got in. Of course, you took way more time than he did. He soon went to the kitchen to prep breakfast. You approached him afterwards, his bare back exposed to you while cracking some eggs into a bowl.

Without any hesitation at all, you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his back. You caught a whiff of his scent, even though he reeked of sex, the vanilla-lavender hint never faded.

"Whatcha cookin', good-lookin'?" You asked, taking a peek on the table.

"I was thinking of making you Japanese omelettes today." He stopped whipping for a second to face you. He placed a finger on your chin, tilting it upwards, and proceeded to kiss me.

"Have I told you you have the softest lips?" He whispered after.

"Yes, you did." You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "And you kept reminding me last night."

"Good. You should be reminded of all the beautiful things you possess." He rested his hands on your hips. You wanted to shy away from the mention of the word beautiful but you didn't.

You have always received compliments, yes, but you never learned how to respond to them unless they tell you how to: "Oh for god's sake, just say thank you." Most people compliment you just because they have to, because social convention dictates them to (especially when you're at a party). Some, perhaps only five percent, genuinely compliment you.

But the spontaneity of last night — all the compliments Bucky kept giving you, all the "beautiful" being said over and over and over, were playing in your head like a broken record. Even after he saw all the folds, the rolls, stretch marks, scars, and acne marks.

It wasn't just that. He admired every single one of your photos down at the bar, photos you worked hard for, photos people kept neglecting. He talked about them like how you imagined someone actually talking about them. He talked to you about the beauty of art like how you wanted to talk to someone about it (Weirdly so, you picked friends you had nothing in common with: Nat just wanted to gossip, Steve preferred to be mysterious, Peter was all about business, Wanda was the one person you could talk to about these but you chose not to anymore, and Nick... was just Nick). It was like reading each other's minds.

You treated each as a compliment.

The five percent you were talking about? Bucky was it.

He pulled you out of your thoughts by sliding his hands to your ass, squeezing the cheeks for a bit, then placing them on the back of your thighs. You smiled then jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. He placed you on top of the counter next to all the ingredients he had prepared.

He grabbed your face and continued to make-out, leaving the eggs on the bowl raw and unwhisked.

"You should," you said in between kisses, "go back to cooking. I'm starving."

"Y'know, you could just eat me."

"Sorry, I want cooked eggs."

He pulled away from, yet his hands stayed on your waist. With a cute pout on his face, he said: "Mean."

You broke into laughter after that and you watched him cook this Japanese omelette he kept talking about.

"I would make you the most amazing Japanese omelette — and the most complicated one, by the way. It took me months to perfect that — but I'm too lazy to prepare the rice." He chuckled, grabbing an apron. "So, I'm just going to make you the normal one. It's called Tamagoyaki."

"Hmm, interesting." You commented. "I just do mine sunny-side up. Crack an egg on a pan. That's it. It's an underrated hack, really."

He laughed. "It's a good thing I'm here then." He proceeded to heat the pan, and throw some butter on it once the heat was good enough.

"You told me you only know how to cook breakfast, right? Why is that?"

"The same reason why you cook your eggs sunny-side up."

"It's easy?"

"Not just easy." He replied. "It's the easiest of all meals! Toast, eggs, bagels, bacon — see, they're pretty easy."

You frowned, tilting your head. "You know, most times, you say the most profound things but you do say the weirdest, silliest things sometimes."

It was like two people were fighting against each other inside him: the child, and the man.

He laughed at your comment and said nothing further as he concentrated on cooking. You watched him move around the kitchen as the minutes passed by. And while you talked about the small things in life, you couldn't help but wonder how this Bucky, standing right in front of you, kissing you, holding you, was much more different — way more different than the Bucky you knew in Peter's stories.

The thing you liked about it though, was that both versions excited you. You longed for spontaneous adventures, ones that you’d keep forever, ones that would remind you of the days of your youth, ones you too stuck up to do, and you longed for conversations like this, and the ones you and Bucky have had before, conversations that made you see more of life's beauty and appreciate it.

That same afternoon, you spent it lying down on a couch in each other's arms, watching a movie he guilted you into watching: Roman Holiday. You made side commentaries while you watched, how lame the lines were, how cheesy they all sounded, but at the same time, amazed at how things have changed since then.

"Ugh, I love me a vespa." You said, watching the vespa speed away on the streets. "I would just love to ride around New York city in a vespa and just pull off some Roman Holiday in this bitch."

"I have to admit, that does look fun."

And somewhere halfway through the film, when Bucky was making small circles with his finger on your waist (igniting fire within you, and at the same time, making you weak on your knees), you ended up making out, grabbing and touching each other beneath your clothes, and taking them all off, sending them flying all over the living room floor, and repeating what you did last night — except it was in broad daylight and Bucky dominated over you, over and over and over, flesh on flesh. You kept screaming each other's names. He kept fucking you into oblivion, taming the mad woman in you.

You laid there on your back, pulling down his neck with your right hand, making your foreheads touch, locking your eyes together, telling him to go "faster, deeper", digging deep and scratching into his back with your nails, making him hiss out your name, and at the same time, crying out his name repeatedly like a chant, making you forget your own.

You felt the droplets of his sweat on your skin, mixed with your own. You watched him ravish you, watched the pleasure consume him wholly, and watched his eyes roll back as he came inside.

"I really can't get enough of you, babydoll." He growled, and kissed you one last time before you showered and headed down to work.

-

"You look different." Nat observed, sitting on one of the high stools across you. "Did you do something with your face?"

"No, I didn't." You grimaced, shaking your head.

"Then, why are you glowing?"

"Quit staring."

She chose not to listen to you and kept on following you with her eyes as you moved around the counter. "Oh my god, I know what it is — "

"Goddamn it, Nat — "

" — you had sex!"

She cackled, gesturing you towards the booth with a sharp tone: "Booth. Now."

You followed suit. It was crystal clear in that moment that you had no other choice, that she held the upper hand in this friendship. You were starting to think that perhaps this friendship you were pursuing with Nat was a mistake as she kept on berating you about the information she just acquired.

"There's no way in hell I'm telling you all about it." You huffed, sitting across from her.

"I'll tell you one thing, though," she said, "I'm a fucking prophet."

"Don't be such a smug bitch." You rolled your eyes. "No one likes a smug bitch."

"What did I tell you about this Bucky thing, huh?" She smirked, ignoring you. Again. "Come on, spill the beans! I wanna hear everything!"

You shook your head unamused. "Nope. No way."

She groaned. "Please? Nothing exciting is ever happening in this bar but now I have this! You!"

"How about you and Steve humping each other like bunnies?" You bit your inner cheeks to prevent your lips from smiling. "That's gotta be exciting."

"Let's not talk about me and Steve."

"So, it's okay if we talk about my sex life but not yours?"

"Exactly."

You frowned. "You're a weird friend."

"No." She leaned in. "I'm a miracle-worker that happens to be your new best friend, by the way — "

"Parker's my best friend — "

" — and you should at least thank me. I am more than welcome, by the way."

"Nat, if you don't stop I swear to God I'm gonna out you and Steve to the whole ass bar." You groaned, knocking your forehead against the table. Coincidentally, you could actually out them of the closet knowing they were actually doing it in one of the closets here in the bar (yes, you found a condom wrapper lying around one time. Knowing what had transpired in that small space, believe you me, you sprinted the fuck out of there).

"Ugh fine, fine." She said, making you stop banging your head and forcing you to look at her. "Just tell me this... Was it good?"

You rolled your eyes. "Fine, yes, it was good."

"Just good?"

You sighed in defeat, leaning back on the cushioned backrest of the booth. "It was the best I ever had." Nat bit her lip, hiding a squeal. "There. Ya happy?"

"Now, I'm curious! Please, y/n, you have to tell me. I gots to know! Okay, tell me, how big was he?"

"What?! No, I'm not gonna tell you that."

"Come on, I'll trade you Steve's."

"Ew, Nat! Gross!" You cringed. "I don't wanna know that!"

Then, she proceeded to move her hands in the opposite direction slowly, "tell me when to stop." You shook your head and just watched her in plain amusement as she continued to do it. Her jaw dropped. "Oh my god, this big? Seriously?"

"I'm not telling you anything."

"Come on, you told me about the time you kissed!"

"That's different." You scoffed. "This one's... intimate."

"Ooohhh, intimate. Well, I've never heard anyone describe sex that way."

"It was just different, okay? Good different." You replied. "And that's all I'm telling you."

She heaved a sigh, finally accepting the fact that you won't go anywhere past what you just told her. "Okay, at least you gave me something. Do you mind if I ask you something real, though? I swear this is the last time. It's not about sex, I promise."

Convinced, you nodded. "Go ahead."

"So, are you guys dating now? Or is it just, ya know, fooling around?"

You sat there, undoubtedly floored by the question. You had never even given it a thought. It never crossed your mind until Nat just made you realize the consequences of yesterday, last night and this afternoon, the inevitable. Were you dating? Will you ever talk about it? Is he even considering it? Or will you just continue to have sex without ever talking about dating?

"I, uh, I don't know. We didn't talk about it."

"Well, clearly there's gotta be something, right? That it's not just fooling around. I mean you said it was intimate, that it was good different — whatever that means." said Nat. "There's gotta be something deep?"

You looked at Natasha with astonishment, baffled by the things coming out of her mouth. Apparently,you were still on cloud nine to think about any kind of repercussion, to think about what could happen next to afterglow.

"I guess?"

"Do you like him?"

"Clearly, I do."

Unlike Nat, you were stunned by your answer. You answered that question faster than the speed of light.

She smirked at you in response. "You are so gonna fall in love."

"Shut your hole, Nat."

The door flew open suddenly, revealing Bucky and Sam, which got you up your feet. Instinctively and ignoring Nat, you approached him halfway and greeted him with a kiss which he gladly reciprocated, all the things you and Nat just talked about disappearing into this sweet, sweet kiss.

"Hey you." You breathed after pulling away from his lips.

"Hey, babydoll."

"Oh hey, Sam."

"Hey, babydoll." Sam mocked, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's a cute name. What is that? French?"

Bucky smacked his friend on the stomach, making Sam groan and glare at him. "So, it's not French?"

"Sam." Bucky warned which Sam only found funny.

Bucky kept his hand on your waist as you approached the booth, with Sam behind us. Nat, who was still sitting on the booth, cocked her head on the side and eyed Bucky up and down. "Bucky, Sam... This is Nat from the night before." You introduced them to each other before you made them sit in the booth.

"Do you boys want anything to drink?" Nat asked.

"We'll have scotch." Bucky replied, giving Nat a friendly smile. "On the rocks."

"Actually, I don't know how to make drinks, I just asked to be nice."

You rolled your eyes at Nat, laughing lightly. "Don't worry, I got them." You approached the counter and prepared the drinks while Nat followed your trail.

"Babydoll?" She asked. "Steve doesn't even have a nickname for me."

"Okay, I have to ask this since you already did it to me anyway." You said, pouring scotch on the glasses. "Are you and Steve dating? Or is it just, like you said, fooling around?"

"We're friends... with benefits."

"So, just fooling around then?" You asked.

"Yeah, you can put it that way."

"Aren't you worried he might want something more than that? Like a relationship? He does seem like a man who wants to settle, y'know."

"Aren't you worried your new boy toy might want something like that too?"

You fell silent just as you were about to finish the drinks. You weren't worried about that, no. You were worried about you, wanting something more, something you haven't had in a long time, something Bucky hasn't had.

"The chances of me and Steve getting even serious are very slim." She whispered. "But you and Bucky? Now, that's a big fat chance. It doesn't even matter how long you guys have known each other. If there's chemistry, then you can't do anything about it, and the way you described your whole thing with him? Babydoll," she smirked, proud of herself, "if that's not chemistry then I don't know what is."

"As far as I can remember, you're the one who told me to just 'go where the river takes you' and now you're confusing me with these things!" You hissed, looking over at the booth and making sure Bucky won't hear your little banter.

She rolled her eyes at you. "Okay, okay, okay... Allow me to paint you a picture, y/n."

"Paint me a picture — ?"

"Do you know where the river takes you? A waterfall." Nat cut youoff. "Now, right now, you're still on a boat, just gliding through the river, going where the flow takes you. Then some time now, you're gonna hit a fast stream until boom, waterfalls, and when you reach the top of the falls, inevitably, you're gonna fall... fall in love, that is, with the hunky rich man over there. See? Painting a picture. I can be smart too."

You kept Nat's words in the back of your mind until you gave Bucky and Sam their drinks, saving them for later. Nat had to go out for a while to smoke outside, leaving you, Sam and Bucky in the booth, discussing the project you had with Sam's line, updating you with all the dates and details. Seeing as you'll soon be leaving the bar by the end of the week, you offered to start first thing next week.

"But I could actually give you a little pitch presentation just before we start shooting," you added, "idea decks we can work with, like styles, and some mood boards that fit your whole apparel aesthetic. But first, I need to know your brand bible, like your target audience, the tone of your business — stuff like that — just so I can prepare for the presentation."

"Wow, you know a lot about the business industry." Sam replied, amused.

"I used to major in business and finance." You sighed. "It does come in handy with my photography."

Under the table, Bucky reached for your hand, interlacing your fingers together and squeezing your hand three times which elicited a smile.

"Oh, I can give you a tour!" Sam enthusiastically said. "We can go to the office and to some of the stores; maybe the one in Fifth Street. We've actually received the shipment for the new designs. We could discuss everything then. How does tomorrow sound? Bucky can come with ya."

"Tomorrow works, yes! Tomorrow's perfect." You agreed.

You broke out in a smile, leaning on Bucky's side who was more than glad to see you discussing with Sam about the project, squeezing you hand once more, three times.

"Then, it's settled!" Sam boomed. "Now, where's the toilet? I think I got a little too excited."

You threw you head back, laughing. "Right down the hall over there." You pointed.

As soon as Sam was gone, Bucky turned towards you and held your face with his hands, planting a soft kiss on your lips. "You sound so hot talking like that."

You chuckled, sliding closer towards him, your thighs brushing past each other. "You and your weird mind, Bucky I swear to God."

With his lips pressed on yours, you didn't even notice the door open, didn't even notice Steve walk in. You pulled away, hearing Steve clearing his throat. With your hands still on Bucky, you turned towards Steve, who was clearly entertained, and sent him a huge smile.

"H-hey, Rogers." You chuckled nervously. "You remember Bucky."

"Mr. Barnes." Steve nodded at Bucky.

"Mr. Rogers."

You frowned at their formal exchange. "Bucky's actually here with his friend, Sam Wilson. I'm starting a project with him for his business that'll start next week. We were just, uh, discussing the details."

"In his mouth?" Steve smirked.

"Steve." You hissed. "Not cool, man."

"So, where's this Sam Wilson?" Steve asked, looking to his right.

"On your left."

Steve turned around on his left at Sam's voice. Both men stared at each other for a while before introducing each other and shaking each other's hands. Weirded out, you turned to Bucky and asked if they knew each other, if the three of them knew each other (as you now remembered that time when Bucky and Steve met here in the bar).

Bucky shook his head no. "Maybe he's just one of those familiar faces you see on the street." He whispered, but as Steve went straight to his office, and as Sam got back in the booth, a weird tension surfaced that was cut off by Nat entering the bar, together with some customers who were more than happy to be the first ones here.

"That's my cue." You sighed, standing up and letting go of Bucky's hands before going to the counter and greeting the customers.

You felt your phone vibrate against your back pocket after a few seconds. You opened it, and on the screen was a message from Peter:

Sorry couldn't get to you sooner. Lost my charger on the way to the cabin! Schmidt didn't want me to borrow his until I did everything he told me to. Everything's great! I'll send you pictures when I can.

Hope Bucky's taking good care of you. Miss you, y/n. I'll see you in a few days!

Your fingers hovered on the screen as you glanced at Bucky who caught your eyes. He winked at you while taking a sip from his drink and licked his lip afterwards, eyeing you up and down.

Tell Schimdt I'll beat his ass when he comes back. See you in a few days, Parker!

A series of what happened between you and Bucky flashed in your mind, making you bite your lip.

And don't worry, Bucky's taking good care of me.

... such good care.

[reidecorating]

Like Ivy

Request: “Being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me.” and “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you.” I’m thinking something Christmas-y with Reid - Anon

A/N: I do apologise for procrastinating on getting this out, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t terrible. Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it, my present to you is the longest fic I have ever written. I had so much fun writing it so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! Happy holidays <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUFem!Reader

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary: Best friends yearning & best friends pining - but make it festive. Entails Secret Santa, the classic penny behind the ear and waltzing.

Warnings: Fluff, proceed with caution :)

The Cathedral of Santa Maria. Spencer had finally put his finger on it. The small glass dome encasing a building, with doors small enough to allow entrance to ladybugs who may practice religion, adorned unmistakable timely Italian architecture and ornamented pine trees, all dusted with flitters of snow. For the past week, Spencer had caught sight of the trinket each time he wandered past where it sat, as one of the few other decorations surrounding the name plate displaying in gold Times New Roman ‘DAVID ROSSI’, on the often unoccupied desk. So, he gathered that it must be important. Filing away his final stack of paperwork for the night, a silver paperclip glistening in the artificial light, Spencer made a mental note to ask the man about it the next morning. Standing from his usual office chair slouch, he stretched his limbs, feeling a series of clicks in his back as he regained his posture, only to bend back down in reach of his satchel. He made his way home giving tight lipped smiles of encouragement to the few agents sprinkled about the room, working over time. Haphazardly, he pushed the arrow pointing downwards with a cardigan clad elbow. As if on queue, his phone buzzed to the simultaneous ‘ding’ of the lift. 

I understand you’re nocturnal, but I hope you’ve gotten home by now! If not, text me when you do so, safely :) 

He didn’t realise he was grinning from ear to ear until an aggravated looking bureau member from a floor above, evidently itching to get home, cleared his throat to gain Spencer’s attention. “Sorry,” he grimaced. Noticing the button for the ground floor having already been lit up, Spencer stepped inside and stood as far away, as was possible in the small space, from the rankled looking man and his briefcase. A dimple appeared on his cheek as he remembered you, two years, three months and seventeen days ago - not that he was counting - offering him cherry scented hand sanitiser from a small bottle, and, only after he’d nodded, gently grasping the tips of his fingers to steady his shaking hand as you poured the gelid liquid into his palm. The act was so pure he chose against telling you that while alcohol based hand sanitisers reduce the number of microbes on hands in some situations, they don’t eliminate all types of germs - making soap and water the most effective way to go. Since then, you occupied his thoughts in the same way ivy grew along bricks of long forgotten towers. In abundance, in the most beautiful way. He turned his attention back to the tiny mobile he was holding. 

On my way right now. I have a date with microwaved leftovers at midnight, can’t miss it. Will do. 

The next time his phone buzzed was when he’d dozed off on the way home, using the concave pane of a metro window as a shoulder to lean against. He waited until his feet landed on the uneven pavement of his stop to open it. 

Tomorrow you have a date with a properly cooked meal, at mine. What is it that Hotch always says? That’s an order, not a request. 

Spencer’s heartbeat quickened as he read what you had written, his brain immediately carrying variables in an effort to slow it down by convincing himself that friends make each other feel this way. However, when he counted the rose flush on his cheeks and nose whenever you were around, the looks you shared which said more than words ever could and the way you held each other nearer than the distance between the sky and the ocean where they met at the horizon after close calls and mentally grappling cases, it didn’t quite equate to being just friends. Dwindling leaves clinging to their branches shuddered as scissors of winter wind pruned the trees scattered about. Spencer’s pale hands slid into his coat pockets, hiding from frostbite. On the short walk to his apartment, he admired the twinkling lights on either side of the streets, feeling as if he were a plane which had just landed upon a runway in the night. Candy canes, reindeer and eccentric portrayals of Santa Claus glowed amongst bushes and on porches, making Spencer wish you were there to see them too. It wasn’t rare he found himself wanting to share everything he did with you. Pretty things made him think of you. Eventually reaching the familiar building, tiredly, he followed wreaths and holly all the way to his undecorated apartment door. 

You? Cooking? I’ll bring a fire extinguisher. Home safe. Goodnight, sleep well. 

He kept his promise, despite seeing the time was nearing to one in the morning and being doubtful you were still awake. 

Hilarious :/ and I will, knowing you’re alive. Goodnight Spencer :) 

Spencer coveted for nights when he could tell you goodnight from right beside you, perhaps with his hand draped around your waist while yours tugged at his hair. He wanted to fall asleep to the scent of your skin and whatever soap you’d picked up from the store that week, not the quiet hum of his vintage fan. His microwave beeped, acting as an alarm to return down to earth from the clouds, presenting him with far less than gourmet potatoes. Realising he would take your burnt cooking over this any day, he settled for a sandwich.

 ∗∗∗

“Did you know that snowglobes were invented in France. They were first introduced as ‘water globes’ at the Paris Expedition Fair in 1889, and, to no surprise, the first snow globe actually contained a tiny scaled Eiffel Tower covered in snow,” Spencer lectured, almost putting the two agents who had struggled enough to get out of bed, back to sleep. The days were slow. Annual leave for a majority of the bureau was looming nearer and files kept them busy as the jet gathered dust. “Glad to hear the French contributed something, other than their opprobrium of a language, to this world,” Emily complained, from her desk. “Well, baguettes… Croissants, parachutes… Aspirin-“ Spencer was halted by the unimpressed look on Rossi’s face, as he hovered on the edge of Spencer’s table, a bushy eyebrow raised in vexation. “What’s with all this talk of snowglobes, kid?” The older man squinted at Spencer, craning his neck towards this, the way he did to suspects behind the glass of an interrogation room. “Since you brought it up,” he smiled smugly, swivelling in his chair from one side to another. “What’s the story behind the Santa Maria sitting on your desk?”

“Yeah, the eighties have come and gone, Rossi, isn’t it a bit late for repentance?” Emily let out a sly smile, walking over to also lean against Spencer’s desk with a steaming mug in hand. “It was a gift from my grandmother, handmade, I take it out every Christmas to help get in the festive mood,” Rossi explained. “Also, that was very funny Emily but now… I can’t help but recall what Garcia told me about the time you got a little tipsy and licked peanut butter off J-” 

“No one told me it was National Congregate Around Spencer Reid’s Desk Day today.” The three agents turned their heads in unison to find who the voice belonged to, Spencer’s breath hitching at the sight of you. You stood before them, an upturned magician’s hat in hand, semi-curious as to what the ending of Rossi’s sentence would have been if it weren’t for you interrupting. “Y/N!” Emily waved, flashing a smile. “You’ve taken an interest in magic and didn’t even think to tell me,” Spencer feigned a hurt look. “Spencer, I knew magic wasn’t for me after I did the card trick you taught me, wrong . Six times,”

“It was seven. Plus, the student is never as good as the teacher,” he suppressed a smile. “Or maybe the teacher just isn’t good,” you raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s a little hostile, someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Spencer defended himself, putting his hands in the air. His eyes held a glimmer of mischief as if to say ‘we know something that you don’t’ when they met yours. Emily’s jaw dropped. “That… Didn’t sound suggestive at all,” Rossi pursed his lips in concern, looking back and forth between the pair of furiously blushing agents. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,” you winked at Rossi. Basking in the radiance of your laughter washing over him like the sun, Spencer chuckled along. “Anyway, what’s with the hat?” Emily questioned. “This,” you shook it by its brim, “contains the remaining names for this year’s Secret Santa, courtesy of Miss Penelope Garcia. I was just ordered to present it to you all. She calls it being her ‘little elf’ - I call it unpaid manual labour - but pick a name, any name,” you encouraged. You watched as Spencer’s tongue comically poked out as he eagerly concentrated on picking a name, elbow bent at a worrying angle. “I just want to say that every time I get a gift that isn’t alcohol, I’m slightly disappointed,” Emily turned to you as it was her turn to fish for a piece of paper. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you grinned at her. You watched Rossi’s expression as his eyes skimmed the name in his hands. “Oh, and Rossi, yes, there’s a budget,” you called over your shoulder, causing them to laugh as you gave them a wave. Slinking away from the comity of the bullpen, back to Mrs Claus’ lair, you retrieved the only remaining name. You paused in the hallway to double check if you’d read the glittery scrawl correctly. Spencer Reid. It was just your luck. You were prepared to engage in hand to hand combat with Garcia, seeing her office looming ahead. “Penelope. I hate you. I love you,” you kissed her cheek, placing the top hat on her curls, “but I hate you.” She recognised the tone, beaming at the implications. “Thank me later, beautiful!” She called after you as you rushed away to get started on completing the mountains of reports you had been avoiding thus far. 

The day had come to a close, a headache making a home for itself in your head. Scanning the, now, mostly empty room, you caught sight of the back of Spencer’s uncombed head. Double checking that not enough people were around to be reprimanded by HR for misconduct, you inconspicuously made your way over to him snaking your arms around his neck and burrowing your nose in its crook. “Hi,” he chuckled, amused at the sudden affection, his unoccupied hand immediately reaching to grasp one of your wrists. Spencer had followed your strict, but coffee induced, orders earlier that morning telling him not to distract you unless, one, he was dying, or two, something was on fire, because you were determined to finish the numerous write-ups you had left until today. “Hi,” you mumbled into him. “Ready to go home?” You asked sweetly, arms still slung around him, pulling your face away to get a glimpse of his soft features. Your heart stopped for a little while, at the beauty of him. He was breathtaking. You refrained from tracing the small bump of his nose with your own, and settled for admiring the five o’clock shadow presaging a hidden jaw. The part of Spencer that craved domesticity was enchanted by your simple question, the word home resounding in his head, acting as an old film reel for projections of images of the two of you together; leaving work together, going home together. Little did he know that, as if through an unnoticed telepathy, just a few inches away, the same images occupied your own head. Coming home to an empty apartment had become tedious. You allowed yourself to give into your daydreams of returning home to Spencer - with Spencer. Spencer, with his warm eyes and words that drip like syrup from his tongue. You wanted nothing more than to revel in him filling your senses once the cologne from the day had been washed away, and hear him harp on about the history of mattresses, attempting to retain questions to ask him later in your memory bank, as you capitulate to sleep. “As a matter of fact, I finished most of what I had to do last night so I am ready to go… home,” he tested out the word, to which you had assigned a brand new connotation, feeling a flutter in his chest. You quickly rescinded your arms as you peripherally detected a flock of agents returning from what you assumed was an afternoon break. Spencer suddenly missed your body on his. Having already packed your things, feeling accomplished noticing that the pile of folders on your desk had shrunk significantly, you packed Spencer’s things to save him time, aimlessly throwing the strap of his satchel over his head for him once he had ungracefully shoved his arms into a blazer. “Hang on,” you gently pulled at his shoulders to meet your height, carefully fixing his tag and creased collar. The blush on his face, at the feel of your cold fingers brushing the nape of his neck, said everything he didn’t - save a meek, “Thank you.” You smiled at him in return. “Wait,” his eyes widened, “I need this,” he mumbled, reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a large black bag, decorated in gold intricacies. He didn’t explain it, but you knew that if Spencer had something to say, he would come out and say it, just all in good time. “Now are you ready?” You eyed the thing curiously, and glanced back at him. “Let’s go,” he motioned his arms in front of him, with a small nod, letting you lead the way. 

Afternoon rays of sun fought their way through clouds, battling with the winter air to warm the people mingling outside as you made your way towards the crowded station. “Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, intuitively slipping an arm through his when the sun began to disappear altogether. Your cheeks grew warm as you realised your compromising position, feeling your heart rate return to its usual pace once he relaxed into your touch. “Hm?” He turned to look at you, letting his river coloured eyes unabashedly scan your face. “You look like your mind is far away,”

“What’s on my mind is definitely not very far away,” he said, quietly. That glimmer had returned. You noticed that the crease between his brows had disappeared, indicative that whatever thoughts were rattling through his brain, were good ones. You hummed a smile, content with his contentedness. “So… Hand it over,” he extended a palm a second later. “Hand what over?” You asked, genuinely confused. “A penny,” he said as if it was obvious. You blinked up at him, unfazed by the joke, as he bit his lip provokingly. All of a sudden he stopped walking, eyes still on you. “Just… Hold on a moment,” he whispered, squinting at you as he reached a hand towards your cheek. You remained still, thinking that Spencer had finally lost his mind. “Here it is!” He exclaimed, breaking out into a smile as he retrieved a one cent coin from behind your ear. “What!? You’re kidding! That was brilliant,” you beamed at him, eyes wide in bewilderment. “For a second there I thought you had gone crazy,” you teased. “Magic does that to people,” he nodded, satisfied with how impressed you seemed. “Ah, but alas, you gave me a very ambiguous answer, so I,” you snatched the penny from his fingers, “am entitled to a refund.” Spencer shook his head with a soft smile. “You might need to use that for the bus if we miss the next train,” he informed, hurriedly examining the watch on his upturned wrist. 

No trains were missed, that day, the two of you arriving at your door in time for the six o’clock news. “Here, let me take your coat,” you offered, putting it on the small rack beside the door, placing yours adjacent to it. Spencer relished in the warmth of the place, setting his things down. “So, I’m thinking we get a proper meal in us, and then you can help me decorate this dreary place,” you instructed. He wanted to let you know that anywhere you are is far from being dreary, but something told him that was far too sappy, so he settled for a simple, “Sounds good.” He took in the familiar apartment, its walls embellished in old paintings snagged from secondhand stores and books scattered about on almost every horizontal surface, in a certain disorderliness that said, yes it’s messy, but everything has its place. “Also, I hope you know that you’re only leaving in the morning so make yourself at home.” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the two of you; you falling asleep at his apartment out of feebleness, him at yours, and more often than not, it involved discarded games of Scrabble as the two of you settled for debating the rules instead of actually playing. Lately, he’d been craving it more and more - and so had you. Spencer would never say no to that offer, but he was taken aback. “But I didn’t pack- I don’t have-“

“Eidetic memory is slipping I see,” you giggled at his flustered state. “I told you, I kept finding toothbrushes, sweaters and socks here every time you left, so I made a drawer full of your things, since you practically live here anyway,”

“An entire drawer? I didn’t think I was missing a whole lot,” he responded, nose tinted red. “I have to water my plants quickly, before I put dinner on, but feel free to shower,” you said, still laughing quietly. “Let me help cook, first. You need someone to disassemble the smoke alarm,” he raised an eyebrow at you. One ‘KISS THE COOK’ apron and half an hour of seasoning a chicken, spilling sweet potatoes and bumping elbows later, the two of you stood back from the counter, you boasting to Spencer about how nothing had turned to ashes, and him pointing out that the oven hadn’t been turned on yet. Soon after, you put the oven on high, humming an indistinguishable carol over the shower that could be heard running from the next room. A warm, tingling feeling overcame you.

By the time you had showered, Spencer stood serving - a well timed and flawlessly cooked - chicken, wearing mitts matching the baggy flannel pyjamas keeping him warm on top of the open oven. “Smells good,” you complimented, slightly startling Spencer. He stood at the small wooden dining table, mouth agape at the sight of you. He was sure his heart was a puddle. “I like your sweater,” he praised. You glanced down slightly confused, shortly realising that your sweater, with its much too floppy sleeves, reaching a little way above your knees, was actually his. “Oh, I’ll wash it and give it back to you at some point,” you said shyly. “I was wondering where it went, but don’t worry about it, the colour looks nicer on you than it does on me,”

“Nonsense, you know that’s not true.” Soon enough, you found yourselves digging in - not before you expressed your gratitude towards food that wasn’t charred for the first time in months. You sat across from each other, your reindeer sock clad feet occasionally tapping his beneath the table. Spencer’s heart was full, marvelling at you from where he sat, wishing this could be something he could experience forever, much preferring it over a stale sandwich. You watched him intently through your eyelashes, chin resting on your interlaced hands while he taught you about how the thalidomide scandal emerging from Germany led to safer drugs in the pharmaceutical industry, the lecture prompted by an article he’d read recently. It continued into getting the dishes cleaned up, his rambling only being interrupted by your intermittent questions which incited further tangents, or requests to pass the tea towel. His voice was a ruffled silken sheet, on which you would like to lay for eternity. Admittedly, you found it difficult to focus on retaining any more information than the odd date, due to being too focused on the way his lips moved to form every word he said, hopelessly enamoured by the overly enthusiastic expressions he made to match the tone of what he was saying. Eventually, he wandered towards the living room as you stacked away the final plate, butterflies still spurring in your stomach from when his fingers brushed yours as he handed it to you.

“Spencer Reid effortlessly navigating technology, Christmas miracles really do exist, huh?” 

“Actually, I just remembered watching you choose music, instead of paying attention to the road, that one time you drove me to work,”

“I was most definitely paying attention,” you huffed out a laugh, slightly bashful at the thought of him remembering small things you do. “You hit the kerb four times! That was the day I vowed to never let you transport me anywhere,”

“I see your argument, and I raise you with the counter argument: the kerb hit me.” Sitting with his back against the couch, legs sprawled out over the rug beneath your coffee table, Spencer couldn’t hold back his laughter. After watching you disappear into the kitchen, he busied himself with reading the holiday edition of Reader’s Digest laying on the table. He recounted you telling him that you had accidentally  drunkenly subscribed to it, and never bothered to cancel the subscription, the first time you’d caught him reading an issue. You emerged a short while later, with drinks in both hands. “Bonjour monsieur, on tonight’s menu, we can either open this Merlot or, drink Capri-suns like the sophisticated adults we are. Your pick,” you said, hiding the juice pouches behind your back and noticeably waving the bottle of wine in front of you. “I have a feeling it isn’t my pick,” he let out a laugh, “so just fill a glass with enough Merlot for two,” you were on your way to get a glass before he had the chance to finish. “Your wish is my command!” You called. Spencer put down his magazine once he saw you rushing towards him with a large glass of wine in hand. “Of course you opt for Christmas Jazz over Mariah Carey,” you teased, hearing the music he’d queued floating from the withering speaker in the corner of the living room. It was the kind of music that would play in the diner of an expensive hotel, you noted. “I can change it if you’d like?” He began reaching for your phone, when you halted him by grasping his arm. “No, it’s good, I like your taste.” Spencer grinned sheepishly, taking the glass from your hand as you sat down beside him. 

Hours of conversation and decking the halls with tinsel later, with wine flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes you moved the furniture to cater for your very own dance floor. Carefully, Spencer placed a hand below your ribs, touching you like new glassware, lacing the other with yours. Your unfettered hand, replaced the weight of the world as it rested on his shoulder. You recognised the look on his face as he settled into the close proximity, it was the same look that painted yours when you admired him whilst he failed to notice. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the man you held, making an indistinct halo of golden light appear above his unkempt hair. “I apologise for any damage caused to your feet,” you giggled, struggling to find a rhythm. “Here, follow my lead,” he looked down at your feet. “The Waltz?” Dazzled, you raised an eyebrow, a few seconds after recognising the box-like steps in unison. Spencer tried to focus on anything but your lips, glistening in the dull light, so close to his. “Mhm, I’m not exactly the most co-ordinated-”

“You don’t say?”

“That’s tough talk for someone I’ve seen fall up a flight of stairs,”

“That sounds made up, but as you were saying,” you laughed into his chest. “It’s simple because its a repeating pattern. Did you know that name of the dance comes from the German word waltzen, which means to turn, or to glide? Some say the dance itself comes from the folk music and dances of west Austria, but others debate that it’s a variation of the Volta, from the 16th century,”

“Interesting, makes sense to debate that though. I’m pretty sure volta means ‘a turning’ in Italian - although that’s mostly in reference to the turn of a new thought or idea in sonnets… I’m thinking of Shakespeare,” you chimed in. “Sonnet one-hundred and thirty being a classic example of that,”

“Of course you would know that,” you shook your head in awe, cheeks hurting from grinning too wide. The incandescence of the smile that hadn’t left his face all day was mesmerising, the honeyed expression tied together with the dimples on his cheeks and creases around his eyes. “What would you like for Christmas?” He mumbled, lifting a moment of peaceful silence. “If you pulled my name out of the hat today you’re going to have to be a lot more subtle than that,”

“Unfortunately not,” he pouted. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but I have Rossi,” he whispered the words into your ear, neglecting that no one else was around to hear. “What do you get a man who already has everything money can buy?”

“A new wife,” you joked, causing him to scoff. He studied your visage as you pondered his earlier question, still swaying to the soft piano sounds. “Honestly Spencer, being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me,” you finally answered, tilting your head up at him. Spencer thought his knees would give way. He thought his knees would give way, and he would hit the ground with enough impact to implode through the earth’s crust. In reality, he only stumbled over his feet momentarily, regaining his composure before you noticed him slowly becoming unhinged. “If that’s the case, I wish I’d picked your name,” he managed to utter, breathlessly.

The music which continued to play was drowned out by the sound of steady breathing, you were too caught up in each other to pay attention to the world. Wordless, you looked into his eyes, his actions parallel to yours. “You look beautiful right now,” he sighed. “Of course, you always look beautiful but, you know.” You shook your head, refraining from averting your eyes from his. He wished you believed it, promising himself to never abstain from letting you know until you saw yourself the way he did. “It’s funny you say that, because I was thinking the same thing. About you of course,” you rushed out the last part, realising the potential for miscommunication. “I love seeing you happy,”

“Well, as long as you stick around, you’ll be seeing a lot of that,” he spoke lowly, on the verge of telling you about all the things he felt for you. You hadn’t realised, but you had unconsciously moved closer together. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, lighting a fire inside your lungs, as he took yours away. Spencer saw all of the signs; the signs that this was not usual for a friendship. Maybe, if it weren’t for his defeated battle with fear, and doubt, he would have told you by now that he had fallen desperately for you. Spencer knew there wasn’t a drop of insincerity behind any of the kind words you spoke into him, he understood that you were his person, but he found it difficult enough to comprehend that someone could feel this strongly for someone. So, the implausible idea that someone could feel this way about him, was one he was not even prepared to entertain. “Y/N? I, um,” he tried, wearily. You gave him a soft smile, both tired arms laced behind his neck now as his rested on your waist. He dropped his sword. Once again losing the fight against his unreasonable insecurities, changing his mind at the last second. “I need to give you something,” his demeanour changed and he vanished from your line of vision. Your heart sank, hopes of hearing him say that the love you had for him was requited, fallen. Before you got too lost in your head, he emerged from the doorway with the same black bag you’d been inquisitive of. “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you,” he tucked his lip beneath his teeth. “Spencer…” you trailed off as he handed it to you. You sat yourself on the carpet, patting the spot next to you for him to join. “I thought I should give it to you now, since I’ll be in Vegas for Christmas,” 

“Spencer, you really didn’t have to-“

“Go on, open it,” he ignored your humility. You gave him a look as you opened it - it being replaced with a look of elation as you realised what it was. In your hands, you held a scarf, long enough to hit the floor, striped in all your favourite tones. “I had to ask my mom for help with the tassels, but-“

“You took the time to make this? For me?” You exclaimed. Without thought, you draped it around his neck to tug him closer to you, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you so much,” you lauded, refusing to let go of him. “I think it was last winter, we were walking back to our hotel in Minnesota during a case, and you insisted that the both of us use my scarf to keep us warm, because you didn’t have one,”

“Ah, I remember that, except it ended up being one of the top ten worst disasters in U.S. history due to the height difference, and we both ended up falling face-first into the snow,” you giggled, recalling the way you had used up most of the hotel’s hot water afterwards. “Exactly,” he matched your expression, “seeing as you still haven’t bought one for yourself, even though we lose eighty percent of our body heat through our head and neck, I thought I would take matters into my own hands,”

“Well, I love it. You’ll have to tell your mother I said thank you and that I’m sending my love,” you finally dropped your arms from around him, out of fear of crushing his shoulders. 

Once the zeroes had lined up on the twenty-four clock, Spencer sat where he usually resided on your bed, ardently admiring you as you folded away his gift. “Wait! Spencer close your eyes! Please!” You squeaked, immediately shutting the cupboard doors, realising your unwrapped present for him was hidden within. “Y/N? Is everything alright?” He asked, eyes now sealed shut. “I didn’t want you to see what I’d bought for Secret Santa,” you let out, too exhausted to form a coherent excuse. “We only got those names today - well, yesterday, now - so how did you manage to-”

“Shoot,” you cursed to yourself, knowing his unintentional profiling would lead him to the conclusion sooner or later. Spencer’s eyes slowly opened. “Okay, let’s say if, hypothetically, I had intended on giving you something for Christmas anyway, but then drawn your name today, would you, hypothetically, be able to act surprised when you receive it from me at work?”

“Hypothetically speaking, I would?” He squinted at you, stifling laughter. Your hair was slightly messy and your drowsy eyes were visible to Spencer even without his contacts in. He thought you just looked so adorable, wanting nothing more than to hold you and share your warmth. “Anyway, come to bed,” he beckoned, his voice gravelly, giving way for the day. Obliging, you shuffled towards your bed before sliding your cold feet beneath the covers. Spencer turned to face you, resting his cheek on an upturned palm. “Sorry for ruining the surprise,” you whispered, tucking the duvet under your chin, bright eyes looking through him. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured, treasuring the sight before him. There had been a shift in the air between the two of you. Spencer held the wine accountable, but he could sense that you felt it too, a level of intimacy that you had not quite reached during previous nights like this. “Come closer, I need to exploit your body heat while I can.” Spencer listened to your instruction, inching nearer to you, his heart rate so high he was sure you could feel it when you nuzzled your head into his chest. “Goodnight,” you felt his chest rumble. “Hang on, the night isn’t over yet,” you mumbled, “talk to me,”

“About?” He asked, amused by your grit to avoid sleep. “Anything you want,” you yawned. “You’re sleepy,” he stated, coaxing you into getting some shut eye. When you tilted your head up and continued to blink at him, he gave in. “Have you ever wondered why a lot of our most vulnerable conversations happen  at night?” You nodded in response. “Well, a study done by the University of Colorado a couple of years ago concluded that natural light from the sun actually regulates your circadian rhythm, or internal biological clock, which standardises your sleep cycle. According to their study, this sleep cycle coincides with sunrise and sunset, meaning that if you regularly expose yourself to sunlight, your body enhances its internal clock to align more closely with the natural light cycle,” 

“Based on that,” you contended, words slightly jumbled, “our circadian rhythm would vary between seasons, right? And yours would be different, since you’re a literal vampire, to say... someone who surfs down in Florida because of disparity in sun exposure?”

“Precisely,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’m impressed you’re still paying attention, you look like you’re already dreaming.” Spencer nudged your forehead gently with his own, causing you to breath out a laugh. “Alright, so how does all of that relate to being more vulnerable at night?”

“It relates in the sense that the rise and fall of the sun reflects in our physiological, as well as emotional behaviour. During the day, we’re a lot more active, and at night, we become more relaxed and receptive. Hence, since your mind is at ease, all the thoughts and emotions that might have felt jumbled up during the day become clear, making them a whole lot easier to express,”

“Mhm,” you managed, eyelids growing heavy. “Do you… have anything to say now,” you whispered drowsily, eyes now closed, “that you can’t say during the day?” Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore. He was already so fond of you but as his hand settled to rest around your waist, feeling your warmness, he believed his ribs could collapse from the way he felt inside. As you dozed off, gradually, winter became less cold in his arms and dreamscapes of his tea leaf eyes. “And, she’s asleep,” he whispered, minutes after silence, into your hair, “but to answer your question, yes,” his lips planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, “I love you.” Of course, unbeknownst to him, you weren’t asleep just yet.

∗∗∗

A couple of days went by, and as more time went on, the less certain you became as to whether Spencer had really even said the words, wondering if the whole thing was just a fatigue driven hallucination your lovesick mind had conjured up. Waking up beside him the next morning however, tangled in a warm cocoon of cotton and limbs, had left you feeling giddy, smiling like a fool with heart shaped eyes as he attempted to feed you the waffles he’d made - which the two of you gulped down far too quickly than sanctioned, to avoid being late for work. When you didn’t succeed, and the clock had beaten you by ten minutes, you both wrestled past evocative looks from the rest of the team for the remainder of the day, JJ even singing something about the two of you ‘sitting in a tree’ . The soft, shared, smiles and light brushes of fingertips when he handed you coffee in the mornings left you wanting to concede; let him know that you would walk on burning coal for him, the more logical side of you reminding you that professing your devotion to him over an open case file consisting of a double homicide, three days before Christmas, was far from ideal. Spencer wanted the kind of love only the poets could express. This had become evident the evening you took him to a midnight screening of ‘Un homme et Une Femme’. You recalled leaning into him to translate, catching sight of his welling eyes glimmer in the dim lit theatre. Believing his love should be celebrated, you decided to withhold the unsurfaced feelings a little while longer.

Later that week, you all gathered around the BAU tree, a small framed picture of Derek decidedly hanging from one of its upper branches after Garcia had to be heavily persuaded, and eventually bribed, to not place it at the top, arguing “But he’s my star.” Spencer snuck behind you, subtly placing a hand on your back to glide through and place Rossi’s gift under the tree. “I want to let you know that I’ve been practicing my ‘surprised’ face in the mirror,” he discreetly whispered against your neck, making you roll your eyes. “Okay super sleuths, I know we’re all itching to fly away for a break, but hold your reindeer, because we are yet to kick off our annual Secret Santa,” Garcia excitedly exclaimed, shuffling in with two large sparkling bags. “I thought there was a budget?” Rossi quirked. “Yes, sir,” she looked smug, “for you.” The team shared smiles at Rossi’s perplexed look. “So, who wants to start us off?” Garcia chirped. With that, the festivities were under way. You held tight an abnormally large heat sensitive mug, which you were sure would also reveal a promiscuous image once warm - a gift from Emily, who gave herself away by insisting it would help your caffeine dependency - watching as the others tackled ribbon wrapping paper. You threw an impressed look Spencer’s way, that glint of knowing something the universe doesn’t returning to your eyes, when Rossi opened a small portrait of what looked to be a Venetian cathedral, the Santa Maria to be exact. Once the banter and excited chatter had died down, everyone turned to the recipient of the final gift, neatly labelled Spencer Reid, enveloped in brown paper and tied with deep purple ribbon. Penelope looked as if she were about to pass out. Spencer’s shifting eyes landed on JJ as she mouthed a small ‘you’re up’, causing a smile to tug at his lips when he eyed you gazing at him with the soft look he adored. Your eyes lingered on his hands as they swimmingly untied the mauve knot and tore open the paper to reveal a large leather-bound journal. He examined the old looking thing,  trailing his fingers along the convoluted golden details of the artistic interpretation of a moon calendar adorning its umber covers, partially covered by thin leather straps. His mouth was slightly agape, shaking a little at how well you knew him, clumsily catching the matching novelty pen before it slipped out of the wrapping and onto the floor. You had picked it up at a forlorn occult shop after it had caught your eye while looking out of place as it lay surrounded by large crystals. Knowing in an almost divine way that it should belong to Spencer, you had bought it. He couldn’t help but look at you briefly, communicating a silent gratitude. “This is amazing,” he ogled, “I love it.” Your heartbeat was in your throat. He was yet to find out you’d filled the first page for him.

Shouts of Merry Christmas, long hugs and season’s greetings were thrown around the room before, one by one, everyone slowly bade their goodbyes. While helping JJ clear away torn reds and greens of gift wrapping, you caught sight of Spencer, ears and cheeks scarlet, with his nose buried in his new, opened, journal.

“We are asleep until we fall in love," you looked up from Leo Tolstoy’s one thousand page book and recited to me, once. Since you walked into my life, I’ve been wide awake. You know that I’m never far away, but this is for the days you need to let out some of what you hold in, without saying it aloud. 

I love you too, Spencer.

Spencer read and re-read the words until he was sure he could recite them like the Lord’s Prayer. It was commonly Spencer who remembered small details and remembered paltry quotations, but this time, it was you. Sitting in the glow of the afternoon sun, one October, he had been reading War and Peace, and couldn’t help but share the line with you as you sat across from him, chewing through a much smaller number of pages and reading a collection of poetry. The woman he had been so captivated by, admiring from afar that day - and all others, felt the same way he did. In disbelief, he began breathing manually. Making sure he was deciphering the cursive lettering correctly, he scanned the page again. While his eyes were definitely not deceiving him, they remained glued to one word. Awake. The havoc caused in his heart by the train of thought hitting him so brutally, rivalled only Gare Montparnasse. You must’ve heard his confession nights ago. It was the only explanation for the ‘I love you, too’. You most definitely were awake. Profiling tendencies overcame him. With his basic background of graphology, he could make out that the last line had been written in fresher ink than all the others, confirming his hypothesis. For the first time in a while, his mind was quiet, the uncertainties which fought to float in, unable to make their way through as if the thee simple words you’d handed him were a barrier for them. He needed to talk to you.

Walking quickly towards the elevator, an overwhelming wave of anxiety crashed over you. You had subconsciously been avoiding Spencer for most of the evening, second-guessing whether or not you’d heard him correctly, whether he’d even meant the words in the way you’d interpreted, wondering what you would do if this friendship were to ever end. However, a more hopeful side of you contended to quiet those thoughts. He had to feel it too. There was no room in which you hadn’t shared a longing look. The feather touches, and dancing. So badly did you want to believe that he thought this too. A slender arm appeared through the closing elevator doors, tugging you back to reality, causing you to jump before quickly pushing the open button. “Spencer! You could’ve lost an arm!” You yelped. “It’s okay, I have two of them,” he huffed. He avoided your eyes for a moment, before inhaling half of the oxygen in the small lift and turning towards you. “I wanted to say thank you, for this,” he held up the book, “it’s gorgeous, and sort of… exactly what I needed - and not just the book itself but what you wrote… inside it,” he nervously looked at you. “Did you- do you mean what you wrote?” His tone of voice syringed into you a drop of hurt. “Spencer, I never want you to think that I don’t mean it,” your let out in a shaky voice, gently grasping his elbow. You visibly saw his body ease, a smitten smile replacing the lip being chewed at. His throat bobbed as he gulped before he spoke again, heartbeat in his ears. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you, Y/N. I don’t want you the way I want a best friend, I want you in a-” he sighed, clenching and unclenching his fist trying to find the words, “I want you in a way that means I want to fall asleep beside you, and wake up to you the next morning, for as long as the sun rises. I want you. I want you - no, need you, the way the tide needs the moon to rise and fall, I want you-” he swallowed, furrowing his brows at his feet, “I want you, like this.” Hazel eyes fluttering shut was the last thing you saw. Large hands lightly caressed your face, one travelling behind your ear, brushing your neck to delicately tangle in your hair. After years of wondering, you finally knew what his lips felt like on yours. His nose bumped yours lightly as you tasted his soft lips, their slight chap reminding you that winter had kissed them first. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, before one settled on his tilted jaw and another hid in his chestnut hair. He felt warm, everywhere you touched setting electricity through him. Even after you pulled apart, his arms remained on either side of your face, holding you like you were fragile. His breath fanned over your face, as you shivered, the fluttering in your stomach unsubdued. The elevator had long reached the ground floor, causing the two of you to bashfully laugh concurrently. You thought to yourself that Spencer’s crimson flush and wide grin was a sight you would lose sleep to gaze at. “All this time, I’ve been missing out on that,” you teased, watching him shyly bite his lip as he waited for you to say something else. “I’m very glad you said all of that because I’m very much in love with you, Spencer Reid, and, if you’ll let me, I want to love you, the way people love in all the books you’ve lent me,” you told him. At that, he was sure his heart was yours, fearlessly. So, making afternoon plans and debating which train to take, neither of you really caring as long as you were in the other’s company, you finally stepped out of the elevator, oblivious to the mistletoe that was hanging within it, but more than mindful of what was to come. 

[strangeinternetwasteland]

A Sweet Promise- Fem! Reader-18+

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, alcohol sex

    Today was one of the most physically, and mentally exhausting days of your career. It definitely made the top five, and the only thing you longed for was a glass of wine, a long bath, and an even longer nights’ rest. Your shift at the hospital normally consisted of a few people, who didn’t  think a plan through, some teenagers trying to show off to one another, and a mixture of elderly people either wanting attention or needing serious help. Your shift started early in the morning, and from the moment you walked into work the chaos didn’t even cease for a moment. It was right before you were going to take a lunch break that an extremely frantic mother came in with her child who ate a few too many vitamins, but was otherwise okay. That pushed your lunch back.

    At the end of the day, you realized that it wasn’t necessarily one thing that made your day hard, it was everything overall. The lack of doctors and nurses, the fact that it was your fifth day in a row, and your need for affection. You updated the staff that was coming in for the next shift about the patients that were admitted, and if there were anything they needed to look out for. 

    You headed to the lockers in the break room to grab your things and your coat to leave.

    “Oh! Y/N! Isn’t this your fifth day?” Another doctor questioned you. You nodded your head and tried to escape before being roped into anything.

    “Yes, it is. I am looking forward to getting more than a few hours of sleep. It isn’t often I get to spend a whole weekend with my husband.” You replied as you walked out the door.

    Your feet were aching from being on them all day, and you really didn’t want to have to keep walking, but you wanted to avoid anyone who made you stop to talk about anything since you were irritable at best. You decided on taking the stairs down to the first floor. After a few flights down, and exiting the stairwell, you exhale the breath you were holding in, and walk outside trying to avoid eye contact with anyone.

    The walk back to your apartment wasn’t a long one, but it felt like it was forever. The cold harsh wind blowing on your face forced you to wrap your coat around you tighter. You cursed yourself for not bringing a hat or gloves, but you knew winter nights were always bitter. Your mind was wandering to all the plans you made for yourself for the weekend. 

    After a few more blocks, you arrived at your apartment building, it was the tallest one which had a wonderful view of the village, and most mornings you enjoyed it. You walked inside to be greeted by the doorman with a big smile, you waved back, and headed to the elevator.

    As you unlocked the door to the apartment, you shook your coat off and couldn’t wait to get your shoes off. After kicking them off to the side, you stepped into the apartment and found your husband standing by the oven cooking dinner. The smells of dinner filled your nose and made your stomach growl. Your husband heard and glanced over at you.

    “I am so glad to hear you’re hungry. I apologize that dinner is late. I had to finish paperwork at work so I just got home a little bit ago.” Kakashi told you as he kissed your cheek. You smiled weakly at him. 

    “I know you’re exhausted from work, just go change and relax and I will take care of you.” He continued. You appreciated Kakashi. He always seemed to be able to sense when you were feeling worn down, or tired, and he always made it better. You headed into the bedroom to change into your most comfortable pjs. Even if you didn’t take a bath right now, at least you felt a little better just being able to change.

    When you went back out, you saw Kakashi had finished dinner and set the table for the two of you with candles.

    “What is all this?” You questioned him. He was being extra romantic this evening, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d miss an important event.    “This is simply because I love you.” He smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. Your heart skipped a beat, and your stomach did flip flops. Even though you’d been married for a few years, you never got over him telling you he loved you. He sat down across from you at the table and you enjoyed your meal together. You asked Kakashi about his day at work, and how Obito and Rin were doing. As he talked and you listened, you ate your meal. Listening to him talk always relaxed you. When he finished his meal, he cleared the table and washed the dishes. You stood up to help him.

    “You go sit down, I will finish here.” He poured you a glass of wine and handed it to you.  You happily took it from him. As you sat down, you debated on watching a movie or a show. 

    “Kashi, should we watch a movie?” You asked him, hoping you could get sometime to just cuddle and relax.“Yeah, that sounds great. How about we watch Roman Holiday?” He suggested. “I can make popcorn, and I think we have some Ferraro Rocher somewhere.” He rummaged through the cabinets looking for everything. You grabbed a blanket to snuggle under and turned on the movie. Kakashi popped the popcorn, grabbed a few chocolates and put them down on the coffee table, left to change and came back. He ditched his shirt and chose a pair of flannel pj pants. You stared at him. You couldn’t fathom how lucky you were to have ever married him. He sat down on the couch and wrapped himself around you. You settled against him with your back to his chest. You pressed play on the movie and watched in silence for a while. 

Kakashi placed his hands on your neck and started to massage you. You were enjoying the warmth of his hands on your neck and shoulders. He absentmindedly worked at all the knots you had from work, while watching the movie. He placed kisses on the back of your neck and left goosebumps in the wake. You tried hard to concentrate on the movie, but you felt your eyes growing heavy and your body relaxing from the wine and massage. You fell asleep after a few more minutes.

Kakashi didn’t dare move you, as he looked down at your slumbering face, he let you sleep for the rest of the movie. He took his hand and intertwined your fingers in his. Relaxing his head back on the couch, he felt himself growing tired. He closed his eyes, pulled your body closer and fell asleep as well.

After a few hours, you awoke with a start and bolted upright. Confusion crossed your face and you took in the scene around you. You saw Kakashi arising from his slumber.

“Oh, sweetheart, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” You whispered to him. Kakashi smiled, leaned forward to kiss you again, and stretched out.

“You’re fine. We can head to the bed.” The sleepiness in his voice made it deeper, and honestly, it was pretty sexy to hear.

As you stood up and stretched, you turned off the TV, and headed to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. Kakashi stood up, grabbed the dishes, and placed them into the sink to take care of later on. He walked to the bedroom and stripped all of his remaining clothes off and crawled into the bed. You walked out of the bathroom to find  Kakashi in the bed. 

“Come cuddle with me, beautiful” He said as he held up the sheet inviting you into the bed, while revealing his naked body. You felt your insides heat up.’ Just because he was naked didn’t mean he wanted you that way’, you thought to yourself. As you crawled into bed next to him, you curled up next to him, laying your head on his chest. You listened to his heartbeat, one of the most comforting sounds. He ran his fingers through your hair. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Kakashi whispered. His heartbeat quickened slightly. You blushed at his words.

“You make me so happy, my love.” He shifted himself so he was on top of you gazing into your eyes. You felt your stomach flutter. The look in his eyes gave away his thoughts.

“I know you’re probably really tired from work, and just want to sleep. If it’s not too much to ask, do you think-” You grabbed his face, and kissed him passionately. All the reasons you loved him flowed into your mind. The more the thoughts came, the deeper you kissed him. Your tongues slowly tangling up in one another’s. Kakashi broke the kiss first. A slight chuckle emerged from his throat. 

“I will take this as a yes?” He arched his eyebrow up, giving you a slight smile and a look of curiosity.

“Yes, please. I need you.” You breathlessly spoke. You slid your underwear and pjs off and flung them off the side of the bed. You felt Kakashi grow hard.Kakashi reached down to the edge of your shirt and gently pulled it up to remove it. The cold air hit your body and sent shivers all over. Kakashi placed his hands on your back and pulled you close to him to warm you up. You let out a small moan of content. You readjusted yourself and let your head hit the pillow. You felt Kakashi grow considerably harder. He was always so considerate of your feelings, and he never wanted to pressure you into sex, even if he wanted it.

“Kashi, I am sorry. I know I’ve been so busy with work. I’ve been neglecting your needs.” You weren’t sure why you felt the need to apologize now.

“Y/n, you’re amazing, please stop.” He told you as he leaned in for another kiss. You felt your core heating up at his words. He left a trail of kisses from your lips downward to your neck. The love and passion in his eyes made you want to give in to his every whim.

“Let me know if you’re uncomfortable or want to stop.” He spoke as he lined himself up. No matter how many times you two were together he’d always ask you. As he slowly slid in you took a breath in knowing how big he was and you full it made you feel. 

“A thousand words could never describe how you make me feel.” He whispered into your ear his breath warm on your neck. His movements were slow, and calculated. His gaze never left your face. If you hadn’t already been so wound up his piercing look would’ve done it for you. The way every movement felt was electric, and for a moment you wondered why you’d ever gone this long without his touch. 

“After all these years together, I am so lucky that you chose me, Y/N.” Kakashi has always spoken sweet words to you, but his touch added to it only made you want him more. He gave you another sweet kiss, and you felt yourself growing closer to the edge.

Slowly, Kakashi movements increased, his hips pressing deeper into yours. Your body responded with his movements. Your end was happening sooner rather than later, and while you wanted it to last longer, you didn’t want to betray your own body. You gave into this need. Kakashi’s hands silhouetted your curves and he grabbed you a little harder.

“Kakashi, I am almost there.” Your voice was meek. He smiled tenderly at you. You wrapped your arms around Kakashi’s neck and pulled him into another passionate kiss. He felt your body react to his, and in turn his reacted as well. In the last few seconds of your kiss, your body betrayed you. You had gone over the edge. You felt Kakashi’s release, and didn’t dare move.

“You’re the greatest thing to have ever happened to me.” Kakashi mumbled into your mouth before kissing you one more time. As you rested, letting your heart rate slow, you could only think of how lucky you truly were. Kakashi had gotten up, and you assumed he went to go clean himself up. Not really paying attention to your surroundings, you close your eyes enjoying the feeling.

“Y/n, I have one more special treat for you.” You heard Kakashi say from the doorway of the master bathroom. You turn your head to see him leaning against the door frame. A wonderful sight to behold.

“Oh, wait, don’t get up!” Kakashi told you as he disappeared in the bathroom and re-emerged with a towel for you. He took the towel and made sure he cleaned up the mess he had made. He was gentle just as always. He took your hand when he had finished cleaning you up, and tugged you into the bathroom. 

Entering the bathroom, you saw the bathtub was filled up and there was a hint of vanilla. Rose petals were floating on the water, and he lit a few candles, and the water looked inviting.

“I was thinking we could use a relaxing bath after our activities.” Kakashi told you while pulling you closer to the bath. You smiled at him, feeling very happy and content, you dipped your toe in the water to test the temperature.

“Together?” You inquired giggling.

“Together. Always.” He hummed as he stepped into the warm water, pulling you down into the water. You snuggled up with him once again. He planted a few small kisses along your shoulder and breathed you in.

“I could do this with you forever, Kashi.” You spoke softly.  You rested your head against his chest and relaxed. ‘This a perfect ending to a very stressful day’ you thought.

“Well, tomorrow is another day.” Kakashi said, and with that sweet promise of another day with your amazing husband left you feeling more relaxed than ever.