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ladyofthearbor · 2 years

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Me and My husband

✤ summary: [Calvin & reader] It seemed like every fibre of your being was written just for Calvin.

✤ word count: 1.4k

I recommend listening to Me and My Husband, or any Mitski songs, while reading this! This is a bit different from my usual fics, so please lmk what you think. <3

𝄥𝄞────────── 𝄇

❝I steal a few breaths from the world for a minute and then I’ll be nothing forever, and all of my memories, and all of the things I have seen with my eyes, with my body, with me.❞

Calvin was the ideal lover. He always swept you off your feet, making you feel like the most important person in the world. It was like you were written to be right for each other. Star crossed lovers. Inseparable.

Here and there, he mentioned his previous relationship. A girl named Ruby Sparks. Whenever she was bought up, Calvin spoke about her with a deep loving, it was evident from the look in his eyes that he still longed for her. His eyes would shine with a kind of passion he never showed for you.

❝But me and my husband, we are doing better.❞

You couldn’t remember exactly how you and Calvin met. The memory was hazy, like a dream you can’t quite recall. You asked him about it and he always blew it off.

“It doesn’t matter how we met, what’s important is we’re together now.”

Even constantly being in Calvin’s presence, you were lonely. No friends. No family. There was no one else you could hang out with other than Calvin. Your isolation was nothing but a “temporary issue”, as Calvin called it, but temporary had been months, bordering on years.

❝It’s always been just him and me together.❞

It didn’t help that Calvin locked himself away in his office. Though he hated being called it, he truly was a genius. His style of writing was lyrical and poetic. The words would dance across the page as you read them. Calvin’s novels would become classics, you were sure of it.

You celebrated every achievement together. The two of you were always going to countless award shows, book signings and parties. He encouraged you to try make friends at the party, but everyone there was so different to you. Previously, you loved parties but one day, you didn’t. It was if someone had rewritten your code, changing your programming and you’re very being. Now it felt like everyone at those parties were complete strangers. Strangers who led successful lives. You couldn’t relate to them any less. You had nothing to your name. Calvin had everything.

❝So I bet on that furrowed brow and at least in this lifetime, we’re sticking together. Me and my husband, we’re sticking together❞

It was late at night, Calvin has spent all evening writing, hurled up in his office and practically ignoring your existence. He kissed your cheek before he went to bed but you couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning, every position you laid in felt uncomfortable. The lights on the clock flickered. 3:08am, the read numbers read. You glanced over to Calvin, who laid peacefully at your side. You knew things had been hard for him. Writing was no easy task and you felt guilty about taking that time away from him. You softly kissed his forehead and got out of bed, quietly tiptoeing through the hall to his office.

The harsh brightness burnt when you flicked the light on. His office was fairly tidy except for the occasional empty coffee mug left around. Calvin always forgot to put them away which left coffee stains on all the furniture. You made a mental note to clean them in the morning. With a yawn, you sat down in Calvin’s office chair. He didn’t let you read what he was currently working on. That was the case with most writers though, so you never took it personally but you couldn’t help your curiosity.

You hesitated whether you should read the pages or not. It was Calvin’s private work but the curiosity itched at your skin. You sighed and grabbed them, beginning to skim over the first few pages and immediately you felt deja vu. In front of you, laid out in crisp black ink, was your entire life. Every word, every letter. It was your life. Had Calvin been writing about you? You knew he did the same about Ruby, maybe it was just a habit he had with all his partners. As the pages flicked by, his writing changed. His previously lyrical writings changed into short, blunt sentances.

“[__] doesn’t hang out with anyone other than Calvin. He is their only friend.”

You felt sick. Yours hands shook as you continued turning the pages. All your little habits which had came and gone were all laid out in front of you. Your personality changes and actions, even the smallest things had all been recorded. You shuffled the pages back in order and placed them back down on his desk in the exact spot.

❝ And I am the idiot with a painted face. ❞

You ripped open the draws, going through them in search for some kind of answer. Tucked away, was a black leather journal. You peeked up at the door to make sure Calvin wasn’t watching you. You began to read the journal. Day by day, your entire relationship with Calvin had been written down and analyzed by him.

“Tuesday, May 16th,

Tonight is the 6 month anniversary of my second novel’s release. The publisher is holding another party and inviting everyone. I know I said I would stop, but I wrote about them again. Ruby was supposed to be a one of phenomenon. So when I thought up another person and they appeared all the same, I couldn’t just get rid of them. It’s not the same as with Ruby. I’ve learnt since then. I’m not completely altering their personality but I did change something small today. [__] used to love parties. It was exhausting. So now they’ll just stand in the corner. Have I done the right thing? It would just make me feel more at peace if they weren’t chatting to other men. They found it again last night. Once again they were snooping around my office and found the pages. I wrote that they forgot it an everything is back to normal. This keeps happening. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up for.”

❝ In the corner taking up space.❞

Silently, you put the journal back. You couldn’t bare to read any more. What did he mean you had found out before? Surely, you would’ve remembered it. You didn’t know what he was doing but whatever it was, he did it to Ruby and now he was doing it to you too. You felt numb as you returned to bed. Calvin woke up when you laid down.

“Where did you go?” his voice was hoarse.

“Bathroom,” you whispered and he went back to sleep.

You didn’t sleep that night. In the morning, it was difficult to pretend that everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. Calvin had betrayed you. Anxiety bubbled up in your chest as he went about his day completely normally. He went upstairs while you distracted yourself with breakfast.

Calvin sat down with a sigh, moving the empty mugs off his desk and onto the shelf. He played around with the typewriter, fixing the paper and giving the keys a few test clicks. The crunching of paper under the chairs wheels grabbed his attention. He leant down and picked up the crumbled page. The black text read:

“[__] hates parties. They don’t relate to the kind of people that go to them.”

Calvin instantly knew you had been in here. Frantically, he crumpled the paper and slammed his fingers against the keys as he began typing. When you heard the familiar echo of the typewriter you ran upstairs, about to scream at Calvin that you knew. You knew everything. He was writing about you and lying to your face about it.

But as you stepped into the door, your mind blanked. Whatever had been worrying you floated away. You stared at Calvin in confusion.

❝ But when he walks in,❞

“Why was I coming up here?”

Calvin shrugged with a smile. You let out a chuckle and walked over to him, giving him a forehead kiss. He pulled you onto his lap, squeezing you tightly and making you giggle.

“I love you,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

“I love you too,” you responded, getting up off his lap. “You need to stop leaving mugs in here.” You took the dirty dishes downstairs and left Calvin alone in his office.

❝ I am loved. I am loved.❞

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ladyofthearbor · 2 years

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klitz headcanon where he’s helping the reader babysit their younger sibling (or some kid they were hired to babysit) and just like him being mesmerized with how good they handle kids. Maybe he makes a joke about them having kids in the future (which flusters the reader)??

please write this or i will spontaneously combust 😭

Character: Klitz / Klitzy

Prompt: Klitz, ever the observer, seeing that his S/O is really good with kids

You got called in out of the blue. One of the parents you babysitted for had a sudden family emergency, one not fit for a 2 year old.

You were hanging out with Klitz at the time, which is how he ended up in a strangers house.

He knew that you babysitted, he'd just never been there before. He thought there would be screaming and crying. The entire time coming over, you reassured him that Jamie isn't like that.

As soon as you knock on the door, it swings open. Jenna stands there, then she sees you and softens. "Oh thank god you're here. Dan is already in the car. Jamie is on the couch. Thank you so much for taking this last minute, we'll pay you double."

You smile, and move out of her way. "Okay Mrs. Rodgers! Call me and tell me how it goes."

And then, the parents were off.

You walk inside with your boyfriend in tow, you made a b-line to the couch.

Jamie looks up at you, smiling with glee. You pick him up, and then you hug the 2 year old.

Klitz never saw this side of you. It was different, he enjoyed it. Tranquil, peaceful.

"What do you wanna do Jamie? You hungry?" You ask.

He nods, pointing to the kitchen.

The three of you walk to the kitchen. You put Jamie in his seat, securing him to where he won't fall.

Klitz takes a seat on one of the counters. You pull out different things from the Rodgers fridge.

"You hungry, babe? I'm just gonna make lunch." You say. Klitz nods yes.

"You know.. we could have a life like this one day. Two story house, a kid. We could take turns being stay at home parents on our off days. Movie night dates, the whole thing."

He watches as you stop moving, freezing in place. You turn around to face him, face bright red.

"You mean that?" You ask. Very quietly. Just above a whisper.

"Sure, if that's what you want." He says.

You rush over to him, practically flinging yourself on him. Your arms wrap around Klitz, squeezing him with all your strength.

"That means a lot." You say.

He smiles. He wanted you to be happy, he'd actually thought about the future too much. Where he was going to be in 10 years, what job he was going to have.

But a life with you sounded perfect.

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ladyofthearbor · 2 years

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you wanna talk about why content creators are leaving tumblr and leaving you high and dry without material to fantasize over? let's talk about it.

hmm, lets see!

first of all, none of you fucking care to reblog our work. we are all aware of how tumblr's algorithm is absolute trash. writers have been BEGGING for readers reblog their works bc it's the only way our works can be seen and in turn, we receive the fruits of our labor via followers and exposure. but no, lets make MORE THAN HALF of the likes to reblog ratios consist of fucking LIKES. on top of that, we don't we shit on writers for wanting the absolute BARE MINIMUM aka a REBLOG bc well, they're not entitled to it aren't they? while writers aren't necessarily entitled to notes, answer this; do you work for free? do you bust your ass doing something knowing that there will be no pay off what so ever? that's what i thought.

secondly, you treat us like shit. you expect us to spit out content like we're a machine and when we don't get to it on time bc we have - idk - LIVES, you send the shittiest asks demanding for more content that you aren't even paying for. do you think people are gonna neglect their real life responsibilities to write for YOU and for FREE? absolutely not. on top of that, when we start writing for ourselves and our own spaces, we get push back. yea, not an effective way to encourage your favorite fic writers to give you more content to consume.

and lastly, YOU STEAL FROM US. each and every fic that a writer puts out has taken hours, days, weeks, or even months to write. that's lots of hard work and time invested into one single piece for you. free of charge. people put their fucking hearts into their work. and what do you do in return? disrespect them in one of the most hurtful ways possible.

so yea, i don't blame a single fucking person for leaving this shithole and NONE of you should be surprised. this is YOUR doing.

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ladyofthearbor · 2 years

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being edward nashton's coworker - headcanons

can be read as gn!reader!!

you first met edward nashton at the accounting office you worked at.

you had started off as a receptionist and ed was one of the main accountants.

at first glance you wouldn't expect someone like him to be regarded quite high up in the office hierarchy since he was very aloof.

he barely spoke to anyone in fact.

when getting to know your co-workers, by your first week he was the only one you hadn't spoken a word to.

you asked a co-worker about him during your lunch break and all they said was;

"yeah, ed doesn't talk much. trying to have a conversation with him is like talking to a brick wall."

their words made sense the more shifts you worked. when you did your rounds, ed would just mutter a 'thanks' when you gave him paperwork.

anyone else would have just left him be and kept their distance (a lot of the co-workers would scarsely admit they thought he was creepy) but for a strange reason you had the determination to at least have a conversation with him.

it began with the coffee rounds, where you'd poke your head into ed's cubicle and ask if he'd like a coffee.

the first few times he'd mutter a 'no thanks', his face looking bothered by your interruptions.

but when he realised you entering his personal space would be a regular occurence, he began to take your offers.

"is today the day you'd like a coffee?" you playfully asked.

"i'll have a latte, please."

when he first accepted it took you aback, but eventually made you smile.

since then, the layers of edward's aloof exterior began to melt away when you were around.

he never admitted it, but he began to take a liking to you. sure, maybe his admiration borderlined on obsession.

but it isn't everyday someone comes waltzing in and wants to get to know him. in his mind, ed believed he was invisible.

when you two got closer, ed was still his shy, quiet self; but he was able to be like that around you.

both of you would spend your breaks at ed's cubicle, talking about nothing and everything.

your conversations didn't dive into personal things, since you were still in a work environment, but you knew the little things about each other.

how ed lived in gotham all his life and never travelled.

his favourite colour was green.

he liked to solve puzzles as a hobby. sometimes you'd even solve the daily newspaper's puzzles together during your breaks.

it was freakishly impressive how quick he could solve them.

overall, ed knew more about you than you knew of ed. he asked a lot of questions. you didn't mind. you were just glad he was talking to you.

he was a good listener.

your lunch breaks together quickly became the gossip of the staff room.

which escalated into many of them asking you questions.

"so . . . you and eddie, huh?"

all you could do was deny all allegations.

jeez, can't two people just be friends?

but it was clear why people thought your lunch breaks were flirtatious.

since ed was always a flustered mess around you.

never in his life has he met someone who . . . gives him compliments.

"your hair always looks so soft,"

"is that a new tie? it looks nice on you."

when you began complimenting him, edward took time to keep up his appearence. no major changes, just small things like combing his hair, wearing his best cologne, wearing a nice sweater.

it was the sweaters you noticed first. they looked so soft.

one time you were looking at his sweater and noticed a bit of fluff on his shoulder

you excused yourself and brushed it off him. when your fingers touched the fabric, you smiled when it felt as soft as it looked.

meanwhile, ed felt like he was going to die immediately when you touched him. how you smiled at him.

it made him a blushing mess and he was embarrassed by his reaction.

you noticed how red his cheeks got, trying to contain your smile from getting wider.

it was cute how he tried to hide his bashfulness by taking a drink from his coffee cup.

since then you began to look at ed . . . a little differently.

you were confused by your change of heart.

but what can you say, you always have a thing for the quiet, nerdy guys.

and ed fitted that mould perfectly.

he surprisingly had a sense of humour you vibed with. it was dry and underlining as if getting his jokes was like solving the puzzles he likes to do.

he loved it when you laughed at his jokes. he loved seeing you happy. and it was shocking to him that it was him that made you laugh.

when it came to flirtation, you took the ranes on that. while ed made you laugh, you made him bashfully chuckle from your alluring words.

and it was you that had the courage to ask him the million-dollar question;

"so, eddie. do you have a girlfriend?"

ed nearly choked on his own saliva when you asked that.

too bad you didn't catch on that he was a raging virgin.

"uh- no um- i don't. i've uhh . . . i've never dated anyone before."

there was a sick side of you that found that endearing. how ed's inexperience was like an untouched gem that you discovered.

"i thought i'd ask you before i ask my next question," you said.

and this just made ed even more confused, "wh-what were you going to ask?"

damn, he really was oblivious. the hopeless look on his face, the way he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. you gazed at him, trying not to let his endearing cuteness distract you.

then, you finally asked, "i was gonna ask if you wanted to go on a date?"

ed could of sworn he passed out for a milsecond.

him? of all people? him? you want to go on a date with him? were you legally blind, or dropped at birth?

all these thoughts drifted through his mind, but the undeniable crush he's had on you since you started working here clouded his judgement and caused his lips to tuck into a shy smile.

"a date? th-that'd be great. yeah . . . i'd like that very much."

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ladyofthearbor · 2 years

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Heads Will Roll

Adrian Chase x fem!Reader

Word Count: 5300

Warnings/Tags: assault, toxic work environments, show-level violence, breaking bones, choking, attempted sexual assault, 18+ like all my other fics, hurt/comfort, references to sex, nonsexual nudity

Notes: I watched Peacemaker twice in the last two weeks and I am fully obsessed with this little maniac. I made my sister made me a vigilante bracelet and I ordered a tshirt from Etsy that I'm sure will be horrible quality, but I could not stop myself. Anyway! Hopefully there are some vigilante Stans out there who will enjoy this. Cross-posting to my AO3 too!

No taglist because this is not my normal fare, but if you want to be added to my taglist you can do so here, and my kofi is linked here.

Masterlist

“Who’s Vigilante texting?” Harcourt asked Peacemaker in the passenger seat. The man in question had his face buried in his phone and had for the majority of the ride.

“Probably his girlfriend,” Chris replied with a wink, knowing the comment would get Vigilante’s attention.

“What girlfriend? Who has a girlfriend? I don’t have emotions, remember? And how can I have a relationship and no emotions, huh?” was his quick and unconvincing reply.

“Answer me this, then,” Chris said, turning so he could see Vigilante, “you text her all the time. You go to her house like twice a week. You talked about how cute she is for like an hour last weekend when you got drunk on whipped cream vodka at my place. If she isn’t your girlfriend, why not dude?”

Adrian frowned. Chris was making good points. And he did really like her. But no. He couldn’t have a girlfriend. Not when he was doing dangerous shit like killing people every other day. Could he?

“Does she know about your secret superhero slash killer life?” Economos asked from across the van.

“She does,” Adrian admitted, knowing the teasing that was coming next and dreading every second.

“You wanna know how she found out?” Peacemaker exclaimed from the front seat, “This asshat just leaves one of our missions and goes straight to her place. Didn’t change clothes or even wipe the blood off. He said she almost passed the fuck out when she answered the door!”

Everyone in the van laughed except Adrian. He felt bad for scaring you, but he really hadn’t thought it through. He’d finally been able to kill someone with a chainsaw and he was so excited to tell you that he didn’t bother going home or cleaning up first. Your terrified stare was imprinted into his brain and though he played it off, he didn’t like that you’d looked at him like that. Even if it was only for a few minutes.

“It was a mistake, dude!” Vigilante protested, throwing his hands up, “It’s not like she refused to see me again. She thinks the mask is hot.”

Harcourt shook her head in dismay and Economos and Peacemaker shared doubtful glances. Only Adebayo came to his defense.

“That tracks, though. Some people have a serious mask kink. No reason she couldn’t.”

The van exploded into a discussion on mask kinks and their merits, leaving Adrian to check his phone for the thousandth time. You still hadn’t texted him. It wasn’t unusual necessarily, except you’d told him you were bored at work that morning and he’d been entertaining you with selfies and every random thought that popped into his head until two hours ago, right when you were supposed to get off work. Adrian didn’t normally worry about unanswered messages, but something stirred in his gut. Something was wrong.

He told himself he shouldn’t care so much. You weren’t technically his girlfriend. Though, to be fair, he’d never asked you to be. He’d met you at his job. You’d come in on a slow night and asked a server if you could work on your laptop and use the free wifi as long as you ordered food and tipped and they agreed.

He figured out a way to talk to you (by rolling silverware at your table, insisting he couldn’t use another spot) and he went home with you that night. He had said that he wanted you, but only as a friend with benefits. That he was too busy for a relationship. And you’d agreed. It had worked out well for a couple of months. Then the day he showed up in his suit, scared the shit out of you, and you insisted on patching him up and making him rest. It was the first time in years he’d had someone tend to him and he found that he really liked it.

It was easy to be with you. To be himself around you. You never made fun of him for jumping from subject to subject or scolded him for his over-the-top reactions to things. You seemed to get him in a way no one had before. He had tried to find a way to be there for you, but you always seemed so put-together, and even when you expressed frustrations with work or your family, he was only able to listen and nod along. He found himself wanting to call you when he didn’t stay at your place or you at his. Slowly, the relationship had morphed past fuck buddies and he wanted to ask you. He wanted you to actually date him and call him cute names and live with him, maybe. Or he could live with you. He wasn’t really picky.

But Adrian knew he wasn’t always great at picking up on social cues. So he second-guessed himself and chickened out of asking last time you were together. Now that the pit of worry was growing in his stomach, he wished he hadn’t.

The moment the van pulled up to headquarters, he was out and in the Vigilante mobile. He waved to the team and left with as few words as possible. Adrian sped to your apartment and hoped to hell that his anxiety was just tripping him up and everything was normal. As soon as he pulled into your complex, he was out and running up the steps to your third floor apartment. He still had the Vigilante outfit on, helmet included, but he figured you wouldn’t care. After he knocked, he checked his phone again and saw no messages from you. Oh fuck, what if you weren’t home? Was he stupid for doing this?

“Adrian?” you asked and he snapped back to the present, looking down at you. You looked upset.

“I just got off a mission and you weren’t replying to my texts,” he explained hurriedly, “and maybe I shouldn’t have come but I got worried that maybe something happened to you and I wanted to be ready in case you needed me to come to save you or pick you up if you had a flat tire.”

He paused to take a breath and looked at you again. This time he noticed your puffy eyes and slightly-smeared makeup.

“Were you crying?” he asked, pushing his way into your apartment, “what’s wrong? Is someone here? I have guns on me!”

“Jesus Christ, stop!” you exclaimed, pointing at the gun he’d drawn unconsciously why he yelled into your apartment. He put it down on the counter and turned to look at you again. “There’s no one here, you can calm down with the weapons.”

“Sorry,” he said, genuine as always, “I just get excited when I might get to kill a bad guy.”

“I know,” you sniffled, “but the bad guy isn’t here.”

“Wait,” he ripped his mask off and slipped on his glasses, “is there an actual bad guy? What happened? Is that why you’re crying?”

“Yeah,” you responded, looking up at the ceiling to try to keep your tears at bay, “but I don’t think you should kill him. Or maybe you should. I don’t know.”

Adrian wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to hurt whoever hurt you. He wanted to make you feel better. He wanted you to not cry, though that seemed inevitable by the way your face was scrunching up.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I want to help but I’m not sure what to do. I know that’s probably lame I’m like 35 years old I should know what to do when the person I care about most is upset, but I just don’t. But if you tell me I’ll do it, I swear.”

“It’s okay,” you told him, sniffling, “just sit down? Let me tell you about it?”

He nodded and set his mask on your counter next to his gun before following you to your couch. He watched while you sat next to him and put your face in your hands and took a deep breath. He fought the urge to comment, reminding himself that Chris always got mad when he tried to talk when his friends just needed someone to listen.

“This guy at work,” you started, “my manager, actually.”

“At the office?” he asked, since he knew you worked there part-time and from home part-time. Though he supposed the manager was probably the same in both instances.

“Yeah. Today was one of my in-office days. He says creepy stuff to me all the time, but usually, it’s just that. Just stuff he says. But today,” you trailed off and sniffled more.

“He’s your manager he shouldn’t be saying anything creepy to you. I know I can be creepy sometimes but I don’t mean it,” he rambled until you looked back up at him.

“Not like you, Ades. Stuff about my chest or my outfits, or my makeup. Stuff to make me uncomfortable just because he’s a jerk,” you clarified and Adrian felt better and worse. Better because he didn’t make you uncomfortable, worse because your manager did.

“What was different about today? I’ve never seen you cry about it before,” he asked, scooting a little closer and bumping his knee against yours.

“Today he followed me when I left,” you said, looking ahead and not at him, “I walked because it’s warm today and it’s less than a mile from here. But he followed me, yelled a bunch of vile shit about how he wanted to fuck me, and when I ignored him, he caught up to me and forced me to go into an alley with him.” Your voice was shaking and Adrian was getting tense beside you. He didn’t say anything and his face was hard when you looked up.

“He-he grabbed me by the throat and tried to make me get down on my knees, but I fought him. I kicked him in his shin and then right in the balls once he loosened his grip,” you wiped your tears off your face as you spoke, “then I ran. I’m not very fast but I got here as quick as I could and just sat on the floor and cried. I still haven’t showered or changed clothes or even unpacked my work bag. Then you showed up. The end.”

“First of all,” Adrian said once you finished, “I am so proud of you for kicking him in the nuts. High five.” You chuckled when he held up his hand and half-heartedly high-fived him. He caught your hand and held it against his chest while he continured, “Second, what’s this douche canoe’s name? I won’t kill him for your sake, but I can’t just let him get away with that. What if he tries that shit again? No fucking way.”

“I’m not gonna say I want you to hurt him, but I’m not gonna tell you that you can’t do it if you want to,” you said, giving him the first smile he’d seen since he arrived.

“So if I want to, you’re cool with it?” he asked, giving the hand he was still holding a squeeze.

“Yeah, I’m cool with it,” you conceded and he grinned at you before leaning forward and kissing your forehead. “I’m sorry that happened to you. It’s not gonna happen again, I promise, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, slipping your hand out from under his, “thanks, Vigilante.”

“Anything for you,” he said, and you could tell he meant it. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and you hoped maybe your gut was right and he did have feelings for you.

“Don’t go just yet,” you said when he stood up and marched back to the kitchen to get his mask and gun. You knew once Adrian had an idea he’d want to execute it immediately, but you weren’t ready for him to leave again.

“Why?” he asked, turning to look at you, “It won’t take long.”

“I don’t want to be by myself,” you said simply and he cocked his head to one side like a puppy, eyes searching you up and down behind his glasses.

“Okay,” he said quietly, taking a step toward you, “I’ll stay.”

You bit your lip and looked at him. He was so cute and so sincere, always sincere. So you decided to just ask him for what you wanted.

“Come take a shower with me?”

“Just to be clear,” he said, following your lead down the hallway toward the bathroom, “not for sex? We usually ‘shower’ and end up having sex so I just wanted to make sure.”

You laughed and assured him, “I’m not really up for sex right now, Adrian. Maybe later. So just a shower. If you want.”

“Okay,” he said and you could hear him unbuckling his suit in the hallway while you got undressed and started the water.

“Could I borrow a shirt maybe?” he asked, coming into your bathroom in only his underwear, “shirts are too much to wear under the suit but your clothes are so soft.”

“You can wear any shirt you want, just come on,” you said before stepping into your steamy shower. You looked down at your body and shuddered. Adrian stepped in and you looked up at him with fresh tears in your eyes.

“There’s so many more bruises than I thought,” you choked out and his face turned serious. He looked you up and down and had you turn in a circle.

“They’ll heal,” he said quietly, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

He took your loofah off of its hook and squirted some of your soap onto it. “Just tell me if I’m too rough with you, okay?” he asked and you nodded and watched dumbstruck as he tenderly washed your body, head to toe. You turned when he nudged you and he washed your back too. To his credit, he only gave your ass a tiny squeeze and moved on. When he was done, he hung the loofah back up and said, “All clean.”

You looked up at him and for once, he didn’t say anything. He just looked back at you with a sad smile, like he knew you were still upset but didn’t want to point it out. Carefully, you stepped closer to Adrian and wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself into his chest and resting your head on his shoulder. It took him a second to realize what you were doing, then he carefully wrapped his arms around you in return.

“This okay?” he asked and you said simply, “Yeah.”

Maybe it was the proximity, maybe it was the unspoken feelings you had for each other, probably it was your shitty fucking manager, but the tears you’d been holding back came rushing up and you started to cry. Adrian stiffened and you were afraid he’d be overwhelmed and pull away, but he didn’t. He relaxed into the hug and rubbed your back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, letting his head drop to rest against yours, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You just squeezed him harder in response and he let you. He held you and you were so relieved you could’ve collapsed. This was all you’d wanted since you got home. Just Adrian. No one else made you feel so safe and so comfortable being yourself. His weirdness made you comfortable enough to let your own weirdness out. Please, you thought, burying your head further into his neck, let me have this one. Please.

The water ran cold soon and you two stepped out and toweled off. Adrian followed you into your room and rummaged through your closet for a shirt while you got dressed in just a long sleeve shirt and panties before you hopped into bed. Adrian emerged wearing a pink tIe-dyed shirt with little hearts all over it and you smiled at him when he jumped onto the bed and squeaked a little when he kissed you.

“Feel better now?” he asked, hovering over you and you nodded.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely and he kissed you again, soft and sweet.

“Did you eat dinner yet?” he asked and you shook your head, pulling him until he laid down on top of you. He scooched down your body until he was resting his head on your chest and you chuckled, causing his head to bob up and down.

“No. I’m not really hungry right now,” you replied and he hummed, turning to a groan when you scratched at his scalp.

“This is weird for us,” he muttered sleepily, letting himself relax further into your body.

“Yeah, but I like it,” you replied, still playing with his hair, “Do you?”

“Shit yeah,” he said with a sigh, “feels nice to just be me. You always let me be myself.”

You smiled to yourself since he couldn’t see you and let the conversation fall into silence. You were pretty tired from your ordeal and Adrian was a dead weight on top of you, so it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep even though it was barely five o’clock in the afternoon. Adrian was brought out of his sleepy daze when your hands stopped moving through his hair. He was about to protest when he glanced up and saw you were sleeping. Carefully, he raised himself up on his hands and knees and looked down at you.

“I love you,” he whispered to you since you couldn’t hear him, “I’m gonna protect you.”

He got up quietly and turned on your tv on a low volume so you wouldn’t wake up to complete silence and freak out before creeping out of your room and into the hallway. He laid your pink shirt carefully on the back of the couch and got back into his suit and downed a bottle of water from your fridge before putting the mask back on and leaving your apartment, making sure to lock the door behind him. He knew where your spare key was, plus you’d be waiting for him to get back.

…

The lights at the office building you worked at were still on when he arrived, whistling to himself as he got out of the Vigilante mobile. There was only one car in the parking lot and he’d googled the company before he got out to make sure it was the right guy. He looked sleazy and he was the only manager listed, so he figured that had to be the guy.

“Hello!” he said brightly when he walked in, bell dinging behind him to let the office know someone had entered. The man he was here to see poked his head out of an office and sneered,

“We’re closed, fucking freak. Go bother someone else.”

“Oh I don’t care about the business hours,” Vigilante said, picking a knife off of his belt and twirling it in his hand, “I just wanna know if you’d rather me break your right hand or your left?”

“What did you say, motherfucker?” the man asked, standing to his full height. He was definitely taller than Adrian but a quick glance told him this guy wasn’t very strong, or very bright judging by the atrocious color combination of his khaki pants, striped shirt, and navy sneakers.

“You hurt my girlfriend,” Vigilante explained, stepping closer, “so I’m gonna hurt you back.”

“Who’s your girlfriend?” the man asked, blanching visibly when Vigilante pulled out a knife and twirled it in his hand, “Like what the fuck is your problem? I didn’t do anything.”

Vigilante doubled over, planting his hands on his knees, and laughed, loudly and obnoxiously. He slapped his leg and stood back up, shaking his head. The guy looked even more terrified than before. Good, his plan was working.

“So you didn’t follow one of your employees when she left work today, grab her, and try to make her blow you? That wasn’t you?” Adrian looked at the man and planted his hands on his hips. He looked shell-shocked, obviously it hadn’t crossed his mind that there would be consequences to his actions.

“I’m gonna take your silence to mean that you’re a gross fucking pervert who put his hands on my girl’s throat and made her cry. I really hate it when she cries, man. It’s so sad,” Vigilante continued and the man was turning whiter with every word.

“You’re Vigilante aren’t you?” he asked, “You’re wanted for like ten murders. Why the fuck are you with that chick? You could bang anyone you wanted, dude. She’s not even that hot. But you know, chubby chicks are always so grateful. Maybe that’s why you picked her, huh? I’m sorry, okay?” He held up his hands placatingly, “I won’t touch her again, I swear. Bro code.”

“Bro code?” Vigilante scoffed, “We are not bros. First of all, I already have a best friend. You’re a gross piece of shit and just for that, I’m breaking both hands.”

He didn’t wait for the man to say another word, just grabbed his left hand and with one hard snap! broke his wrist. The man screamed in pain and sank to his knees. Adrian chuckled and skipped to the other side of the still-howling man on the floor. He picked up his unbroken hand and gave it a gentle pat.

“Did you like it when I put my hands on you?” he asked and when the man didn’t answer, he grabbed his chin and jerked it to face his visor. “I asked you a question, motherfucker. Did you like it when I put my hands on you and hurt you? Huh?”

“No! Fuck! You’re crazy!” came the predictable reply.

“No, I’m giving you a taste of your own medicine. How does it taste? I used to like that bubblegum flavor they put in medicine when I was a kid. I could’ve done shots, I swear it was delicious,” Adrian rambled, distracting the guy enough for him to stop wailing and hear the other snap!

And then he was screaming again. Calling Adrian a bunch of names, saying he was a freak, all things he’d heard before. He was going to leave and let the man figure out what to do on his own. He even got his phone out to order dinner to pick up on his way back. Then the fucker had to open his big mouth.

“She’s such a cunt! I’m gonna fire her ass for this! Fuck you and fuck her!” he screamed, trying to use his forearms to help himself stand up. Adrian was seeing nothing but red and everything in him was screaming to just grab his gun and off this guy. Then he remembered the bruises on your neck and the tears rolling down your beautiful, sad face and he had an idea.

With one gloved hand, he picked the man up by the throat and slammed him into the nearest wall. His super strength wasn’t something Vigilante really let people know about. He couldn’t pick up a car or anything, but by his own estimate, he could lift anywhere from 200-300 pounds with one hand and up to 750 with both. Definitely not normal, but really fucking useful in situations like this.

Vigilante wrapped his other hand around the man’s throat and squeezed, watching with glee when his eyes widened and his feet kicked out, struggling against him. He could kill him like this and watch the light leave his eyes, but he wanted to go back to your place and eat dinner and snuggle on the couch. And he wasn’t sure if you’d really wanted him to kill your manager.

“I want you to remember this next time you think about going anywhere near my girl. I want you to remember how I could’ve killed you, easily. But I won’t because of her. Because she wouldn’t want me to. But I swear to fucking Christ, if I hear about you even looking at her sideways again? You’re fucking dead. Got it, asshole?” he looked at the man, knowing he was about a minute from passing out and then, without a word, Vigilante released his grip entirely and the pathetic dick-waffle crumpled to the floor.

“Bye!” Vigilante said brightly and waved before exiting the building, already dialing the pizza place by your apartment to get dinner. He prided himself on remembering to get you an extra cup of garlic butter on the side and started back toward the only thing that mattered: you.

…

In no time at all, he was knocking on your door, pizza in hand. You answered and you almost laughed at how silly he looked in the full vigilante costume, complete with mask, brandishing a huge box of pizza with a gun visible on his hip. The poor people at the shop must’ve been terrified.

“Welcome back,” you said, moving aside to let him in. He sat the box down and turned back toward you while removing the mask and putting on his glasses, already talking a million miles a minute. You looked him up and down while he talked and were relieved to see no blood on his costume, nor any bruises on his stupid handsome face.

“And you’re gonna be so happy because look what I remembered,” he said and your attention snapped back to the conversation as he held up a little cup of garlic butter and you smiled. Maybe now was a good time to ask.

“Thank you,” you said, leaning up to kiss him on his cheek. Adrian looked surprised but he smiled at you nonetheless.

“So did you kill him?” you asked once you’d gotten plates and drinks and settled down on your couch to eat. Adrian was back in your pink tie dyed shirt and his boxers, you in shorts and a comfy sweatshirt. He laughed around a mouthful of pizza and replied, “No, but he was scared shitless. Actually, he probably shit himself when I choked him within an inch of his life. Stupid motherfucker.”

Your stomach clenched and you were surprised that him describing torturing your manager turned you on a little. “Thank you,” you said sincerely, “it’s probably fucked up to be happy that you hurt someone, but I am.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” he said, setting his empty plate down, “I liked doing it.”

“Well I’ll try not to be too conflicted about it then,” was your reply and he nodded at you. You suggested watching a movie and he agreed. It wasn’t that you and Adrian had never hung out after hooking up, you certainly had. But those other times had a significantly more bro-ey atmosphere. This time it felt…like more. Halfway through the movie, your eyelids felt heavy so you took a chance and laid down on the couch and put your head in his lap. Adrian didn’t say anything, so you grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“This okay?” you parroted his question from earlier and he looked down at you with that thoughtful gaze he leveled at you sometimes. “Yeah, it’s great,” he replied and traced the substantial bruze on your neck with his fingers.

“Maybe I should’ve killed him,” he muttered and you didn’t reply. Once the movie ended, it was still relatively early, but you were so tired. Reluctantly, you sat up and stretched and you and Adrian started speaking at the same time,

“Do you wanna…”, “Do you mind if I…” then you both laughed.

“Stay?” you finished and he let out a relieved exhale. “I didn’t want to make it weird, but I don’t wanna go home,” he said and you told him you felt safer with him there. He preened a bit under your praise and followed you to your room. It felt a bit awkward to climb into bed for the second time today without the pretense of sex, but it didn’t feel bad. No, you realized, it felt right.

Once the lights were out and both of you were laying in darkness, you turned to face Adrian. You could just make out his silhouette in the faint glow of your bathroom nightlight. He was so handsome and he looked like he belonged in your bed. So you gathered whatever strength you had left and asked.

“Adrian?” you whispered and he didn’t turn to face you at first.

“Right here,” he whispered back and your stomach tightened again.

“I don’t want to be fuck buddies anymore,” you blurted out and he turned his head to look at you, sadness creeping into his features.

“What do you mean? I thought it was good,” he said, sounding sadder than you’d ever heard him.

“Hang on, hang on,” you clarified, scooting closer, “I didn’t say it right. I want to be more than fuck buddies. I want to be your girlfriend.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, sitting up in bed, “so you wanna have sex with me even more?”

“Adrian!” you scolded half-heartedly because yeah, you definitely wouldn’t be opposed to that. He laughed and promised, “I’m kidding, I promise. But do you mean it? You want me around more? The guys today were teasing me about talking to you so much and coming to see you so much and daydreaming about you when we should be working.”

“Do you want to see me more?” you asked and he turned to face you and nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” he said, back to whispering, “I tell you I love you when you’re sleeping sometimes.”

That was not at all what you were expecting him to say. Tears sprung to your eyes, but they were happy ones this time.

“You love me?” you asked, trying not to get choked up.

“Don’t cry!” he exclaimed, placing his hands on your shoulders, “But yeah, I do love you. I want to be around you anytime I’m not working. I’d honestly like to take you with me but that’s too dangerous and I’d probably go bezerk if something bad happened to you.”

“Will you be my boyfriend, Adrian Chase?” you asked, trying to steer him back to the conversation at hand and not down the road of hypothetical bad things happening to you.

“Of course,” he said, grinning at you broadly, “will you call me something cute like honey?”

“Sure,” you laughed, “but kiss me first.”

He dove at you then, big hands coming up to hold your head in place while he kissed you hard. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let yourself melt into him. Adrian was a messy kisser and you loved it. He pushed his tongue into your mouth almost immediately and you accepted it, sighing into his mouth. He licked and kissed at your lips and tongue and teeth until you had no choice but to pull back and breathe.

“I like kissing you even more now that you’re my girlfriend,” he said with a cheesy grin on his face, “if we weren’t both tired I would do it more.”

“It’s okay, baby,” you said, pulling him to lay down, “you can always kiss me more tomorrow.”

“Baby,” he said dreamily and you giggled. “Do you like that or?”

“Yeah,” he said, “you can call my anything you want.”

“What are you gonna call me?” you asked, half-joking. He turned you gently to face the wall so he could spoon you. He squeezed you and said into your ear, “Mine.”

“That’s so cute,” you said and he kissed your cheek before settling down behind you, his strong arms keeping you firmly pressed against him.

“I dunno, felt kind of cheesy,” he said, his words slurring a bit from exhaustion.

“No such thing,” you assured him, “I like it. Be as cheesy as you want.”

“Jus’ you wait,” he said as he was falling asleep, “gonna make you regret sayin’ that. No idea how cheesy I can be.”

“I love you,” you whispered and he nuzzled into your hair, which you took to mean that he felt the same.

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ladyofthearbor · 2 years

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Marriage is about having good sex and committing unspeakable acts of violence for one another

#prev tags #no. libra #we don’t #please elaborate😁#/lh

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ladyofthearbor · 2 years

Text

At some point then I might just go "fine, I'll do it myself"

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ladyofthearbor · 2 years

Note

Robert is the "congratulations on getting laid" cake giving sibling and Stannis is the one who receives it the first time he brings you over for thanksgiving

jesus christ

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ladyofthearbor · 2 years

Text

selfless - greg hirsch / reader

masterlist

summary: it’s a greg sickfic….what else could you want? inspired by this song. kind of/sort of a prequel to this fic. happens before the events of the show.

warnings: a little angst at the end.

a/n: trying to work through an inbox full of requests right now, so please, please be patient with me if you sent one in :)

Can the dark side light my way out? Yeah Lay your hand across my face, yeah

————————————————————————–

Plates were cleared away from the table, dishes had been washed, some still lay drying on your countertop. But overall, you were content, fed, and you sank into the pillows of your couch alongside Greg, who had joined you for dinner.

“That was good,” Greg said, arms wrapped around his shoulders as though he was giving himself a hug. “Thanks again for cooking for me.”

“Oh, well it’s the least I could do,” you glanced over at him, smiling as earnestly as you could. But you were never good at hiding concern. Your sweet friend, Greg, who you’d known since college, was out of work, out of money, and currently living out of his car. For the past few months, you’d done just about everything you could to try to get him employed. But nothing seemed to work, so the best you could offer now was a home-cooked meal, something you knew he probably hadn’t had in awhile.

Keep reading

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ladyofthearbor · 2 years

Photo

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ladyofthearbor · 2 years

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loved your lil roman blurb and i’m begging for greg fic crumbs 🤲🏻 maybe angst / comfort where he goes to reader to vent.. a little friends to lovers mixed in. if not that’s ok too 🧡

thank you sooooooooo much, anon! and yes, Greg deserves so much more attention IMO - in season 3 when tom and shiv are making fun of him and implying the women he dates are out of his league i was like in what world?? so without further ado, here are some greg sprinkles 😉

summary: your best friend vents to you about work.

warnings: alcohol use. brief mentions of workplace abuse.

word count: 2k

Your phone rang at 10pm, just as you were crawling into bed - not quite ready to sleep yet, but winding down for the evening. Fully prepared to ignore the call, you paused when you saw the name staring back at you on your phone screen.

Greg Hirsch

Sighing, you contemplated whether or not it was worth answering. Normally, you would’ve picked up in a heartbeat, but it had been a few weeks since you’d spoken to him, and the last time you’d hung out you’d gotten in a disagreement that left a rather bitter taste in your mouth. Unfortunately, you weren’t good at holding grudges.

“Hello?” you said, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Oh good, thank god, hey, I uh-” Greg began stammering, as though you picking up was a huge surprise, even though he had initiated the call. “I didn’t know if you were awake or not, I-I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“Well….” you sighed. “I’m here.”

“Listen, I-” Greg cleared his throat. “See I know the last time we were together things…well we-things didn’t go…so good but I was wondering if I could come over? Or you could come to me and we could…I don’t know, like, do you think we could talk?”

“I don’t know Greg,” you looked at your alarm clock, as if you weren’t very aware of the time already. “It’s kind of late, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, yeah, no I know, but I just think like…it’d be nice to see you?” Greg continued. “I kinda….I kinda just need your advice right now. I have this really nice bottle of wine I got, and I know you like wine so maybe I could bring it over.” He paused, you could practically hear him holding his breath. “What do you think?”

He was right, you did like wine. And since he’d started working at his uncle’s company, brushing shoulders with some of their top execs, you’d even gotten to reap some of the benefits of his job - one of them being expensive bottles of wine and liquor he’d been gifted. But the wine wasn’t the real bargaining chip. You had picked up the phone to begin with, and well…you wanted to see him, even on bad terms.

“I guess that’s fine,” you answered, biting your lower lip. “How far away are you?”

“Like, I don’t know, like 20 minutes, is that cool?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Text me when you’re at my building.”

“Okay, yes, thank you, I will. Thank you,” he said.

You hung up, leaned back against the headboard, and groaned. “Fucking pushover,” you scolded. Changing out of your ratty pajamas and into leggings, a sweater, and a bra for good measure, you set about tidying up the small living area in your shitty one-bedroom apartment.

By the time you’d made your home and yourself semi-presentable, your phone dinged and you buzzed Greg in. A few moments later there was a knock at your front door.

Greg stomped his feet in the building’s hallway a few times before stepping over the threshold. Snowflakes clung to the pieces of stray hair that had fallen onto his forehead, his cheeks flushed, and you were momentarily frustrated by how cute he looked without even trying. Cradling a bottle of wine in the crook of his elbow, he shivered. “It’s really cold out there, it’s snowing.”

“I can see that,” you said, eyeing him. He stood stiffly now, the smile that had been on his face since he entered slowly fading from his face.

“Long time no see, right?” he asked, and leaned in to give you a hug, which you didn’t return. Usually he wasn’t great at picking up on social cues, but your hesitance must have come across clearly because he pulled away quickly and pushed a piece of hair behind his ear, laughing nervously. “Uh, thanks for letting me drop in.”

You nodded. He slipped out of his shoes, passing you the bottle of wine before shrugging out of his coat. The label caught your eye and you did a double-take. “Greg, this is like a $300 bottle of wine,” you balked.

“I told you it was nice,” he said, a little bit of cockiness seeping into his tone, the new side of his personality that had only surfaced over the past few months. You hadn’t decided yet if you found it unbecoming or attractive. Greg brushed past you, slinking towards your credenza to grab some wine glasses.

There was still a bit of tension in the air, though you could tell it was only one-sided. Greg seemed shockingly comfortable considering that the last time he was here you’d kicked him out on the verge of tears. It was like nothing had changed, which made you sort of infuriated but also relieved.

“So, what’s going on?” you sat on the couch.

“Uh,” he pushed his hair out of his face, fumbling with the wine bottle opener for a spell, looking over at you sheepishly. Exhaling through your nose, you reached out, and he took the offer, handing the bottle and the corkscrew over to much more capable hands. “It’s uh, it’s kind of about work.”

You raised an eyebrow as you poured out two generous servings, and Greg hesitantly sat across from you on the couch, raising his glass to your own with a clink. He took several gulps of the wine - which was sort of sacreligious, considering its price point - before continuing.

“It’s uh….it’s like, kind of horrible,” he began. “I hate ATN, I hate my position, I hate the people, I hate the politics and…I really…I…like, I don’t know if all of it is worth it anymore.”

“Have you talked to your boss, Tom?” you asked. “Don’t you like him?”

Greg’s gaze shifted to meet your own, his eyes wide. No. He didn’t have to say it.

“I already tried that, it….” Greg took another long sip of wine. “It didn’t go well. “You know like, sometimes things between us are like…I don’t want to sound dramatic but like, borderline abusive?”

You frowned, noticing how quickly his demeanor had changed. Greg was good at letting everything roll off his shoulders - sometimes annoyingly so – but now the way he slouched over his glass of wine, melting into the cousins of your couch, made you think things were probably even worse than he was letting on.

“Well if that’s happening maybe you should quit.”

What could you do? Of all people to come to for career advice, you were probably the last person Greg should be seeing, so you struggled to offer anything more helpful.

“I can’t be like…unemployed again. It was bad.”

You grimaced. It had been bad. An image of Greg, feverish and shivering in your bed after catching a cold while living out of his car flashed through your memory. It wasn’t easy to see him so frail, so distressed, during that time period. You’d nursed him back to health and let him crash on your couch for a few days until he finally moved back in with his mom. That was before Waystar, before you felt like you’d lost parts of your friend to greed and corruption. But maybe he wasn’t too far gone.

“I’m sorry, Greg,” you said, and you meant it, the sight of him in distress thawing out the ice around your heart. “That’s a really tough situation for you.”

He was too hard to stay angry at. And just in the small amount of time he’d been back into your apartment, you could feel the space warming up again. It’d felt so empty with him gone, he wasn’t around to eat all the snacks out of your cupboard after smoking a joint out your window and nearly setting off the fire alarm, or knocking over the knick-knacks decorating the shelves in your apartment. You realized then, just how much you had missed him.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “About us. I almost fucked everything up…you’re like…you know, like, my only real friend.”

Tilting your head, you studied him carefully, reflecting briefly on the last time you were together. “It’s okay….we were both drunk. I probably owe you an apology, too.”

Greg put down his glass of wine and looked over at you. “Well…I mean that’s good then because it really sucked not to see you, especially with everything going on. And if we’re okay again, I’ve got my own place now…it’s like, super nice…I want you to come see it. Maybe you can spend the night sometime?”

“That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?” you snorted, cocking an eyebrow.

“No, well, I didn’t mean like, that like, I just thought that like….because I always was over here, maybe you can stay at my place…like if you get sick or if you need a place to stay or if you just want to come around… I didn’t mean like-”

“Greg,” you cut him off, chuckling, scooting closer. “It’s okay. I know what you meant.”

“Oh….oh okay good,” he nodded, looking at the coffee table.

An awkward silence fell between the both of you.

Greg sighed then, and it seemed like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. “I’m just glad you’re not mad anymore because…like, you…you always make me feel better. Even now.”

“I’m glad.” You finished off your glass of wine. “I always feel better when I’m with you, too.”

“Hmm,” he hummed happily and finished off what had to be his second glass of wine, you weren’t really keeping track but he was polishing off the bottle fast. His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, lips stained red. When he turned back to face you, he was surprisingly close, and that damn piece of hair had fallen back onto his forehead.

The buzz from the alcohol was already hitting you a little bit, or at least you hoped that was it, because then you’d have an excuse for what you did next, reaching out and pushing the stray lock off his forehead tenderly.

Greg froze, eyes wide, and you realized just how inappropriate that must have been. You supposed there had been times where you’d shown him a bit more affection than a friend should’ve, but that was a while back, before you’d gotten better at concealing those urges. That was not okay. You could feel the heat rising up your neck, warming your cheeks, but didnt know what to say, so instead, you moved away slightly. As if some magnetic force attached you both, Greg moved towards you in kind, keeping the distance the same.

“This might sound a little crazy,” Greg mumbled, and his voice was much lower than you’d ever heard it, just a whisper, which made your stomach flutter. “But would it be bad if I like….kissed you right now?”

You couldn’t speak, you were so locked in on him, but at least you were able to shake your head no.

Greg’s lips connected with yours quickly, clumsily, and then he pulled away, hand drawing to the side of your face to brush against your cheekbone, eyes scanning your own for some sort of reaction. He seemed to find whatever affirmation he was looking for, because he leaned in again to kiss you again, properly.

This time, your hands carded through his hair, and he pulled you closer to him. He tasted like wine, cheeks still cold from the snow, just as soft and sweet as you’d always imagined. It had to have been ten minutes you stayed like that, kissing him, drinking him in, letting his hands wander, teeth teasing along your bottom lip. The little noises he made in response, the airy, contented sighs, muffled gasps, were like music.

When you both pulled away, breathless, your fingers pressed against his temples, you couldn’t keep yourself from giggling. Somewhere along the way you’d ended up straddled across his lap, his hands, which were settled on your hips, squeezed gently.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” you could hear the honey in the words you spoke.

“I never knew if you’d let me,” he answered, nose bumping against your own as your foreheads pressed together.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, you know?” you said, his lips found your cheek, your jawline.

When they landed on your neck, causing you to shiver, he spoke again. “I know.”

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