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tobesolonely · 1 year

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Y/N and Harry are expecting a baby, and they’re both very impatient.

happy 5k to meee! when I made this account at the height of the pandemic in 2020 to pass the time i would’ve never thought i would’ve made the friends i have or gotten so much support with my writing!! thank you besties! i hope you enjoy!

warnings: smut

please buy me a coffee to celebrate! :D

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“I just don't think we need three different kinds of bottle warmers, love.”

Y/N looks at her husband looking down at the half-full cart that’s now one bottle warmer fuller. According to every baby blog and “new mom” website she scoured, bottle warmers were a must-have. However, there was no general consensus on the best one. Y/N didn't really see any other option but to try a ton. (Besides, it's not like he couldn’t afford it.)

“Then tell me which one’s the best.”

Harry's eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “How would I know which bottle warmer is the best?”

“How would I know?”

He opens his mouth to quip back but can't think of anything to say because once again she's right. How would she know?

“Ok, darling,” he resumes pushing the cart through the aisle with a defeated sigh. “You're right.”

A credit card swipe and a short 15-minute car ride later they’re home, depositing all their recent purchases in the half-complete nursery. It was nearly stuffed to the brim with clothes and instructions for toys Harry began assembling but never completed and baby wipes and strollers and now, three different types of bottle warmers that it was a little overwhelming. The good kind, though.

By the time they finish that, they’re knackered, sprawled out on the couch with the tv playing lowly in the background.

“How does stir fry sound for dinner?” Harry absentmindedly traces over her plush thighs with the pads of his fingers while he seeks her approval. “I don’t think those bell peppers in the fridge have got much longer.”

“Mmm, sounds good,” she cranes her neck up to look at him, not wanting to leave her position on his chest. “Not too spicy, please. I can’t handle it right now.”

“I know, love.”

Y/N knows Harry knows, but she still reminds him anyway. He gently helps her up and guides her to the kitchen, lifting her up on the counter so she could cut up the vegetables while he stood at the stove and cooked the chicken. He’s about to sprinkle a generous amount of red pepper flakes atop the chicken when he remembers her polite request that he doesn't make it too spicy and he sets it down, deciding he’ll add it to his own portion separately.

“I think these are all chopped up.”

Harry hums and walks over to where Y/N is positioned on the counter to inspect her handy work. Most everything she knows in the kitchen she learned from Harry, and he definitely still teases her about her skills with a knife. At least she tries!

While the look on Harry’s face tells her he thinks her chopping skills look like that of a ten-year-old, all he says is, “Looks great, darling! You’re so helpful.” (The pregnancy has made Y/N more sensitive than usual and Harry knows she's liable to cry over the tiniest things so he’s been extra sweet to her)

With the chicken now simmering on low, Harry adds the vegetables to the dish and adds a bit of water to help soften it faster, making sure to add a generous amount of seasoning. Y/N appreciated this because she wasn't the biggest fan of vegetables (especially peas and broccoli, which Harry coincidentally loved) so whatever he did to make them even the tiniest bit tastier was helpful.

Twenty minutes later they're enjoying dinner, bowls filled with heaping piles of steaming rice and chicken-veggie stir-fry. Harry stands in between Y/N's legs while she’s sitting on the counter (occasionally giving her bites of his food even though they’re eating the exact same thing).

“Who taught you how to be such a good cook?” Y/N randomly questions in between a mouthful of food. She knows the answer is Anne, but she just likes stroking Harry’s ego sometimes.

“My mum,” he answers. “And lots of practice. I could teach you…”

“I’d rather not.”

Harry chuckles at his wife’s hatred for cooking. “Luckily for you, it brings me great pleasure to cook for beautiful women,” Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “I mean you. My beautiful woman. Don't give me that look.”

“Are you gonna make baby food from scratch, too?”

Harry raises his eyebrows in consideration, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of Y/N’s nose. “There’s a thought… hadn’t even thought about that. I can do that.”

“I mean, you did say you love cooking for beautiful women.”

“I do,” Harry smiles at his wife for a few moments before the look on his face changes to one of accusation. “Are you trying to tell me something? Did you look?”

“Okay listen, I may have taken a tiny peek at the monitor when we were at the check-up on Tuesday…”

“Y/N!”

“I couldn’t help myself, Harry! I don’t know how you haven’t been going crazy over it,” she absentmindedly rests her hand on her stomach. “If I didn’t know I’d probably be so annoying right now.”

“That’s true. I’m sure you would be.”

Y/N playfully reprimands Harry by swatting his bicep. “You love how annoying I am. It’s why you married me. You said it in your vows, remember? There’s no going back now.”

Harry kisses the side of Y/N’s neck, then travels up to the sweet spot right below her ear before moving to the apples of her cheeks and then finally, her soft lips. “I wouldn’t dream of going back on it. Tell me more about this baby girl we’re having, since you like to ruin surprises.”

“I can’t help my wandering eyes!”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Harry responds sarcastically. “Are we telling people?”

“I think it’ll be fun if we kept it our little secret,” she reaches up to play with the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck. “Maybe we’ll tell your mum and mine. We’ll see.”

“You’re right,” his hand travels up the back of Y/N's shirt. She shivers at the feeling of his cool rings against her warm back, “Instagram post instead?”

“Harry!”

“I’m joking, love!”

“Help me down from here. My butt’s numb.”

“Have you been thinking of names while you’ve gone all this time knowing without me?” Harry easily lifts her off the counter, not removing his hands from her waist even once she’s steady on her feet.

“H, it’s only been two days.”

“Two days longer than I’ve known,” he bends down just enough to ghost his lips over yours. “Come sit on my lap. Let’s brainstorm.”

Harry gently guides her toward the direction of the living room, plopping down first on the couch so he could pull her into his lap. There was no other place Harry preferred Y/N to be than in his lap whenever he was around her.

“Are you upset that I peeked when we were supposed to wait?”

His eyes soften. “Of course ‘m not mad. I guess since we’re being honest I may as well admit that I took a peek, too.”

“Harry! Why were you gonna let me think I was the only impatient one?”

“You’re just easy to mess with,” he pulls her flush against his body. “I was gonna see how long I could keep it up, but I can’t do it anymore. I feel too bad.”

“When did you peek?”

“Right after you did.”

Y/N lets out a dramatic gasp, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “You saw me? I thought I was being sneaky!”

“I’m sorry to say you’re not as sneaky as you think you are,” he fiddles with the strap of her tank top, pushing it down her arm slowly. “I admire the effort though - it’s very cute, love.”

“Thank you,” Y/N cocks her head to the side. “Are you happy? That we’re having a girl?”

“Y/N, I’m so happy that I don’t think I can properly put into words how I’m feeling,” his hands travel along her back. “I’m even happier I’m having a baby with you. I don’t care about anything but having a healthy baby with you.”

“H, you’re gonna make me cry,” Y/N says dramatically, a small pout on her chapped lips. “You’re very cheesy - I love you so much. How did I get so lucky?”

“Would you believe me if I said I asked myself that same question every day when I wake up beside you?” Harry taps her on her side. “C’mon, up you go.”

Y/N lets out a little groan. “Why? I just got comfortable. Your lap is the best seat in the house.”

“Wanna show you how much I love you and how happy I am that you’re giving me a baby girl,” Y/N’s eyes widen as she scrambles off her husbands lap and onto the empty space beside him, legs folding beneath her. “Can I have a taste?”

“I thought we were discussing baby names?” Y/N jokes.

“I think we should do this first,” Harry drops to his knees, “Turn around f’me, darling- on your knees- yeah, just like that,” and immediately attaches his mouth to her clit, giving a firm suck. He quickly moves to her slit and licks up it, collecting her wetness on his tongue. Y/N can tell by his quick pace and sloppy licks that he's feeling plain desperate, and she momentarily wonders to herself how long he's been in this type of mood.

Almost as if he's read her mind, Harry pulls back and says, “Been wanting to get in between these pretty thighs since we were comparing all those bloody bottle warmers at the store…” before diving back in. She turns to watch as he pokes and prods at her holes with the tip of his tongue, working faster the heavier she begins to breathe. His palm rests on her ass cheek, which also aids in keeping her spread open for him. Harry places three pecks on her clit before removing his mouth from her core just long enough to turn her around so her bottom was on the couch instead.

Harry hooks his right arm under Y/N’s left leg and throws it over his shoulder, using two fingers to rub over her clit. He lowers his head back down and attaches his lips to her bud again, looking up through his lashes at her. Y/N uses her shoulders to support her body weight, using one hand to lift her tank top and tweak her nipples while the other tangles in Harry’s curls. His tongue flicks back and forth over her clit as he locks eyes with her before sticking his middle finger in his mouth and inserting it in her heat.

“Harry, I love you,” Y/N tells her husband breathlessly, voice filled with lust. “I love you so much. I’m so- oh!”

She lets out a sharp gasp once Harry adds two more fingers in one swift push, easily accommodating to fit his digits. His fingers burn in the best way possible, and she can’t wait to feel his cock. The whole time Harry’s fingering Y/N he’s giving her sweet praises–telling her she always opens up so well for him, that she get so fucking wet, that she tastes sweeter and better than the finest desserts. It’s nearly too much.

“I can’t put into words how much I love you,” Harry whispers as he relentlessly curls his three fingers up over and over again to stimulate that spongy spot deep inside of her. “I want you to cum for me, my love. Cum for me so I can get inside you, hm? Can you do that for me?”

Y/N’s mouth falls open in a silent scream as she releases all over Harry’s fingers, clenching so tightly around him that he has to tell her to relax so he can comfortably pull them out.

“S’fuckin’ tight…” he mutters moreso to himself, pulling his joggers and boxers down to his ankles in one swift go. “All mine?”

“All yours,” she responds so quickly she nearly sounds pathetic. “Please, H. Just give it to me please-”

Harry pushes Y/N up and back onto the couch so her back is against the armrest. “Comfortable?”

Y/N’s heart swells a tiny bit at her husbands concern for her comfort even when he was having her in such a filthy state. “Very. Please fuck me.”

Harry slips himself inside Y/N’s warm heat, letting out a quiet groan of relief at the feeling. Y/N whimpers and locks her legs around Harry and he takes that as his cue to move. He slides out nearly all the way before slamming his hips back inside her, grunting loudy in pleasure.

“That’s a good girl…just take it, darling,” he snaps his hips quickly into her, skin slapping against skin. “Lay there and take it like a good girl…My good girl…”

Tiny moans esacpe Y/N’s mouth and she doesn’t try to suppress them in the slightest, wanting her husband to hear how good he was making her feel. He always made her feel good, always put her pleasure first.

“My clit, p-please,” Y/N stutters out, reaching for Harry’s hand so she can place it at her core. Harry places his hand at her core and begins rubbing in hard, tight circles, knowing exactly how to stroke Y/N to bring her to her release.

“Tell me how good it feels.”

“So, so good. Gonna cum, H,” Y/N moans, bucking her hips up so they meet Harry’s. “Don’t stop H, please don’t stop!”

“Yeah? You’re there, angel?” his thrusts become impossibly faster. “Me too, baby. You first. Cum for me, Y/N.”

Y/N orgasms for the second time that night, waves of pleasure washing over her body that satisfy her in the best way possible. Harry’s not far behind her - his hips stutter to a stop before he lays his weight on top of her and cums, being mindful not to lay directly atop her bump.

The couple lay in silence for what feels like ages, basking in the afterglow of their sex and orgasms. Harry places a chaste kiss to the top of Y/N’s head before gently untangling himself from her, already thinking about which bath bomb he wanted to use when he went upstairs to run her a bath in a moment.

“So, about those baby names…”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Please let me know what you think! and please buy me a coffee to celebrate! :D

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry concept #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

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twistedoverbloat · 10 months

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Side story:[ this took place after savannaclaw arc ] ((Clawthorne)) yuu was hanging out with the gang and beastmen trio in savannaclaw dorm lounge as a thank you for helping them to beat finally diasomina dorm, yuu was relaxing with her feet/legs soaking on the water fall-like-pool along with cheka teaching him a few glyph spells, crystal and grim are chillin on two separate mini chair floaties on the waterfall pool

Yuu((clawthorne)): *see the little cub drawing a plant glyph perfectly* there you’ve done perfect job little cub this is a symbol for a plant glyph give it a tap on the center and a flower or even some vines will appear

Cheka: *excitedly* Ok Oba-tan *gently taps the middle of the symbol a bouquet of golden lion lilies blossoming from the paper* i did it i did i learned my first glyph and we have these kinds of flowers back home, what other kinds of glyphs you can teach me?

[ leona was in the background seeing a new kind of magic an elemental type of magic nobody else has seen or done before and remembered how fast, agile, powerful, strong she was during the magshift event and when he overblot her owl harpy form impressed even more, he thinks he might have romantic feelings for her ( tsundere crush )]

Savannaclaw student: prefect clawthorne the head master has requested you to his office immediately

[ in head master’s office] *kicks the door open while she has cheka on her back ( piggyback ride )

Yuu((Clawthorne)): what seems to be the trouble crowley *gently puts down smol cub* I was about to teach this cub glyph combinations an……*stops in surprise than quiet happy tears*

Eda & Lilith:* both in happy tears* Witchling

Gwendolyn((mother)) & Dell((father)): Owlet

(All five rush into a family hug)*sees everyone from the owl house Luz, Amity, Gus, Willow, Hunter, Raine, Edric & Emira, Alador, Darius, Eberwolf*

Yuu((Clawthorne)): how did you all find me?

Luz: we were looking everywhere in demon realm and the human realm for you and collector help too

King: but there no trace of you in both realms

Darius: so king and collector begin to search other realms

Amity: until they found this realm and king followed your sent then everything went black and we woke up in the mirror chamber

Lilith: and came paths with the head master of this " Night Ravens College" and the fact that….. ITS AN ALL BOYS COLLEGE

{ how everybody react of meeting and getting to know yuu’s family, wonder how the owl house gang think about the tour of the campus and meeting yuu’s new friends } [ after everything gwen & dell officially adopted grim in the family, now is pronounced "Grim Clawthorne"]

STOP THIS IS SO CUTE!

Cheka being Clawthorne Yuu's lil apprentice is adorable. ALSO EVERYONE FINDING HER IS SO CUTE! ALSO GRIM BECOMING A CLAWTHORNE IS SO CUTE IMA CRY.

#the owl house yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #clawthorne yuu

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oolathurman · 1 year

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so uhh that was the first watch through, let's go over it again

enemies can interact with each other and the environment

still convinced that ganondorf somehow corrupted that arm of link's.

the large chalk drawings on the ground i love them they're SO gonna be puzzles

ok the spotlights seem to be in multiple locations so i'm betting it's for like. wayfinding purposes when you're in the air.

i wonder how long after botw this takes place?

seeing encampments near hyrule castle is so cool tho ahhh ARE WE BUILDING UP AN ARMY????

CUZ CLEARLY WE CAN FIGHT WITH NPCS PROPERLY NOW

giant cloud in the sky five bucks says it's also related to skyward sword shit

i should. probably finish skyward sword huh i never did whoops.

i got close!!!!

the way music is reversed and shit. while ganon's music is cued. mm.

like i know we saw evidence of the zonai last trailer but i'm still seeing traces of twilight princess. such as in this music.

ok so you can't see it very clearly in just a screenshot but

one arm is like. corrupted compared to the right. or the arms different at least.

this continues my theory that ganondorf corrupted link's arm

if he didn't i will eat my shoe

still fucking horny for ganondorf

OK YEAH LINK'S RIGHT ARM IS CORRUPTED IN THE NEXT CLIP, IN THE SCREENSHOT, IN THE SCREENSHOT ABOVE GANON'S ARMS ARE NOT PROPORTIONAL TO EACH OTHER

TELL ME THAT THEY DIDN'T SWITCH ARMS OR SOME SHIT

TELL ME TO MY FUCKING FACE

what is this SPARKLING that zelda's doing as she's falling

it's clearly related to the piece of amber or whatever it is she holds later in the trailer

i love the addition of quicksand in totk it's so 90s to have quicksand everywhere

this underground area where link's wearing the goron armor tho

it's not goron built, the architecture is different and i KNOW nintendo puts careful thought into that shit

but it's underground or otherwise not receiving natural sunlight

is this the temple in the ravine??? the forgotten temple or whatever????

AIRSHIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

[cues mission impossible music]

heehee poncho boy

yeah you can def fight with villager and npcs now and i like that link's learned how to do the spinning spear trick that the bokoblins used in the previous game! that's such a fun touch

if this dragony npc is a zonai by god we are gonna introduce so much more furry bait into the fandom (i say this with amused positivity)

well we're getting so much more furry bait already with their existence but shhh

the tear shapes that they have under their eyes are the same as zelda's WHAT IS THIS. IT HAS TO DO WITH SHEIKAH RIGHT? SHEIKAH ARE THE ONES WITH THE CRYING EYE MOTIF. WHAT DO ZONAI HAVE TO DO WITH SHEIKAH.

wait a second i'm remembering this like. weird conspiracy theory i had when i played oot where a sect of separate sheikah who defected from hyrule were like. corrupted by magic and shit. i suppose i forgot bc it's been uhhh ten plus years but uh

eyes emoji

wait a second what's the zonai theory anyway

bc if my old conspiracy theory lines up with zonai then that means i came up with the zonai theory separately and--

well anyway

what is this script that's being used on the gears and walls in this next scene. it's a new language/script. it's not sheikah, it's not hylian. what is it. is it zonai as well. idr if the twili had a script.

KOROK BABIES IN THE BACKGROUND, ALWAYS THERE FOR LINK, THE HERO. ;U;

ugh the way this unseen npc dresses reminds me so much of. shit what's his face. the other twili person that isn't midna. him. the weirdo. i guess it's just how the clothes drape but i have so much thread on this spool for the conspiracy theory board ok.

that amber i talked about is around her neck THAT AMBER IS AROUND HER NECK also girl cute earrings!!!!

i will say that seeing link using magic 2 part epoxy to glue a shield to a sword is fucking hilarious.

does anyone recognize this rito from the previous game

was she(?) the (modern) champion's daughter or smth idr

HOW MANY YEARS HAVE PASSED

the corruption has spread to mount doom you KNOW this is gonna be a main quest

obsessed with this look yas girl oh my god i just noticed the additional ear piercings I LOVE IT

new 'hit the eyes' boss revealed in the thunder cloud

oh wait the arms thing was a torn sleeve

i mean we still see ganon corrupting link's arm but also i wanna see more of like how it connects

still horny for ganondorf

can someone give zelda a goddamn break like just fucking let her be with her gnc boyfriend already

#personal post tag i guess #totk spoilers

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matthew5016512 · 2 years

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Week 6: Digital Concept Drawings

To date doing the digital concept rendering has been the part I was both looking forward to and dreading the most. Before completing this weeks work I had never used photoshop, and avoided any and all Adobe products like the plague (I rendered everything for BENV1010 in Rhino last term, for which I make no apologies). Fortunately (?) for me there was simply no way to avoid it this week.

The final product...

I found Rob's videos invaluable in creating my concept drawings, though there were quite a few points where I had to madly google things as A) I don't use a mac (therefore the shortcuts are different), and B) things did not always go to plan.

To begin with I drew in a very rough copy of the 3 bottle concepts I wanted to take further. They were very rough, but it was good to get something on the screen quickly and messily so I had a starting point.

Blocking in the base colours for the bottles seemed to go ok, and it helped me refine the profiles of the bottles. The symmetry tool was invaluable - I hated trying to free-hand draw symmetrical shapes last week so this was no small blessing.

My layers were a bit weird which caused headaches later on. If you look closely at images 2 onwards the block colour for the bottles either hasn't been erased properly, or I somehow managed to get 2 blocks with different shades of grey from each rectangle - I have no idea what went wrong, but I did it twice and the same thing happened again so I pushed on :(

After I blocked in the colour I tried something different and created another layout layer so that I could (roughly) trace the grey masses and work out where the edges were. I then locked this layer so I couldn't alter it and put it over the masses so that I could put shade and highlight in the appropriate places. This made it much easier to do the shading as my bottles were not purely organic shapes like was demonstrated.

After removing the rough layout layer I was left with some rather uninspiring blob-bottles. I had difficulty with getting the outline to generate on a different layer and it resulted in some weird artefacts that I couldn't figure out why they existed, but just had to manually erase from the new layer. Adding additional layers for the contours ad making it look a bit more hand-sketched and "open" as a concept took a lot of time but was well worth it. I think the shading could be matched up a little bit better, but overall I was happy how it cam out.

Adding in the background really elevated the sketches and made them pop. I'm quite proud of how it turned out, though personally I think it is cleaner without the notes.

Lessons learnt: 1) Photoshop is scary, and has one hell of a learning curve, but it's so much better than trying to draw on paper, so I'll take it any day of the week.

2) Sketching skills are transferable from paper to the digital realm, so I need to continue practicing sketching if I want to be able to effectively communicate and ideate rapidly. CAD has it's place, but I have developed a new appreciation for the artistic side of IDES.

3) The order of your layer stack is important and I feel like I have only barely begun to get my head around it at this point - the layers are soo much more than just different line weights and colours as they are in AutoCAD and Rhino.

4) I'm so glad I had the sense to get a touchscreen laptop with a pen at the start of this year - I cannot for the life of me imagine how much longer this would have taken be if I only had a mouse - and I am certain wouldn't have come out as good.

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tamcitrus · 3 years

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vacation night

pairing: Benimaru Shinmon x f!reader

genre: nsfw (i really tried giving it a background, i really did)

warnings: spit play, spanking, slight dom/sub, breath play?, little degradation

words: 2.7 k

summary: working as a fire force officer you inevitably met and worked with the Seventh Company’s Captain and you grew a soft spot for him, so you went to visit him on your “vacations”

tam’s notes: it’s finally here, my first Fire Force fic. I knew as soon as I saw this man that I had to write for him. I hope my fellow Benimaru lovers enjoy reading this as much as I did while writing it.

tags: @writeiolite , @shinsotired , @loneveenas , @vventure

"Ugh, you here again?" Benimaru walked past you and his friend, with the twins behind him. "I'm not interested in what you have to say, so please leave."

He was already in the next room when he finished talking.

"I'm sorry, he's… stubborn," Konro explained.

"Oh, don't worry, Konro-san. I can assure you I'm even more stubborn," you laughed. "Do you know a nice place where I can stay the night? I won't bother him now, I don't want to ruin your dinner."

"We have extra rooms, you can stay here if you like."

"Thanks. I'll take a look around the city and I'll be back," you smiled at the gentle man that made you company until now.

You walked around the city, bought some candies and went to sit by the river under the moonlight. A few minutes later you heard steps behind you and a big arm brushed yours when a person sat by your side.

"Why are you still here? Didn't I make myself clear?" Benimaru couldn't understand what it was about you that made him nervous.

"I'm not here for official business," you explained.

You were sitting on a bench facing the river and the man by your side had his back facing the river. You couldn't quite see the other's face but it wasn't necessary.

"I might apply for a new company," you whispered.

"We don't take people outside Asakusa," he anticipated.

"You don't."

"I'm not in charge."

"I'll ask Konro-san then."

"Tsk," he clicked his tongue and sighed. "Why―?"

"I like Asakusa. I'd like to be away from the Holy Sol Temple for a while…"

"Take some vacations," he said as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

You burst out in laughter. You couldn't believe a man this powerful could be so dense sometimes.

"I'm not making myself clear, I see. I'm here for you.”

He sighed. He had his suspicions and he was right.

“I don’t have time for this,” he answered.

You stayed silent. You had your suspicions too. Benimaru Shinmon didn’t look like a man interested in a relationship or any kind of romance. He had his job and his kingdom. And he was satisfied with it.

“Try not to wake up anyone when you come back to the headquarters,” he said as he walked away.

You smiled at him and observed his shadow disappear in the night. It was ok, you weren't hurt. It was just a simple crush on him, not like he was the love of your life or something. He could be but whatever.

You waited a few long minutes to stand up and walk back to the Seventh Company headquarter. Konro left a note with the room he had prepared for you and a little map to not get lost or get into someone else’s room, all of them marked with an X. You walked there and stared at the ceiling for another long period of time. You weren’t getting any sleep that night, you just knew, so you decided to leave. But you couldn’t leave without any notice so you wrote a note for Benimaru and walked to his door ―which Konro kindly pointed in the map with a different mark― to leave it there.

Once there, the curiosity bit you. You couldn’t hear anything, not even the slightest sign of his breathing, so you slowly opened the door to get inside and deliver your note.

It all happened so fast. You barely saw a flash of fire and then a hand in your throat had you pinned against the wall, without making a sound.

“Easy there, destruction king,” you said. He had your throat in one hand and your hand with the note in the other. “It's just me.”

“I could’ve killed you. What the fuck―?”

“Just wanted to leave a note before going my way,” you interrupted, as calm as you could with him all over you. “I didn’t think you would be so territorial.”

“Do you know how many people have tried something against me? Sneaking here and shit?”

“Pretty sure after a few tries they learned their lesson,” you joked.

“Are you leaving?” he asked without letting go even a little bit.

“I had a nice stay here today but I have to go,” you shrugged.

“What are you even wearing? In the middle of the night are you gonna walk out like this? Without a uniform?”

“A dress. Civilian clothes, Beni, I'm on vacation, remember? You should try it sometime,” you said, the pressure on your neck a bit lighter. “You’d look good without―”

Without your uniform, that's what you wanted to say. His mouth was over yours before you could mock him one more time. You made him come closer to you with your leg around his waist. He let go your arm and neck to grab your legs, you held to his shoulders to jump and cling to him. His torso had you against the wall as his hands explored your thighs.

You didn’t waste a second thinking about how he rejected you a few hours ago. You couldn't focus on anything else but his hands and his tongue, that wet muscle that was now tracing the veins from your neck to your shoulder. You moaned as his big hands grabbed your ass as hard as he could. He walked to his bed and let you fall there, as if you weighed nothing. You gasped when you felt your body hit his mattress. He was taking off his clothes without getting his eyes off of you for a second. It was almost like a lion stalking his prey before jumping to its neck to end the job.

“You’re big under all those oversized clothes,” you commented.

“You talk a lot,” he said.

“Want me to use my mouth for something else besides talking?” you smiled, you put up the most innocent smile that you could in that situation.

He sighed and rolled your dress up to your waist to position himself between your legs. You rolled your eyes at him even when he couldn’t see you. He bit your inner thigh and you closed your legs on pure instinct. You tried to, at least, but Benimaru’s hands held your legs at a safe distance from his head as he kept going up your skin and finally got to the point. He kissed your clothed clit and his mouth went up to your pelvis and belly until he met your dress again. He clicked his tongue and stood up to take your dress in his hands and ripped it apart, like it was a buttoned shirt.

You opened your mouth to complain but all you left out was a moan when you felt Benimaru’s mouth over your nipple. You tangled your hands in his hair and you were surprised by how soft it was. You threw your arm down between your bodies and took his erection on your hand to jack him off. He was… huge. Just like everything else on him, he was big and intimidating. His broad shoulders and chest, his big hands that could easily cover your whole face in one touch, he was just so powerful and big.

“What’s wrong?” he said and stopped to look at you. His different eyes looked at you through long locks of hair and even in the dark you could see a little blush on his face.

“Nothing,” you cleared your throat and moved your hand again before spacing out in your thoughts again.

Why get lost in a thought if you had the original one all over your body and kissing you in that same moment? You pulled his hair to hear him make some noise one more time, just in case you were dreaming. He growled when you moved your hips up and grinded your wet underwear against his bare dick.

“Just fuck me already, Beni,” you whispered on his ear as you tried to get rid of your underwear.

He helped you to get it off and then step back to admire your naked form on his bed. He also set your panty on fire, as if that little piece of fabric just did the most unforgivable thing to him. You giggled as you bent your knees and spread your legs open for him. He stood right in front of you again and took two of his fingers to his mouth and then to your pussy. You wiggled your hips at his touch so he rested one knee between your legs and put his other hand around your neck to try to keep you still.

You held to his bicep with both hands ―yes you needed both to get a hold around his arm― and moaned. You moved your hips desperately, silently begging for more. Without letting go of your throat he took his dick and teased your entrance, going up and down with his tip full of precum.

He could tease you like this the whole night just to watch you squirm and whine under his hands. But the reality was he wanted to fuck you just as much as you did. So he finally gave you -and himself- what you wanted. You arched your back at the feeling of him stretching you. Even with all the teasing and preparation you still needed a minute to adjust to his huge erection. He could be a bit rough with you but he still waited for you to signal him to keep going and when you squeezed his arm he took it as his signal.

He started thrusting slow, taking his time to see his dick disappearing between your folds. Once he had enough of that hypnotic view, he pushed himself balls deep into you, like his life depended on it. The pleasure clouded your mind, you had no space for something that wasn’t him right now, nor mentally or physically.

“Oh god fuck,” you whispered when he threw one of your legs over his shoulder and started thrusting in a new position.

You couldn’t hear anything besides his heavy breathing, your moans and the constant skin-against-skin sounds. He pulled out and bent down to kiss you again.

“Turn around,” he ordered and you obeyed without a thought.

He slapped your ass and you screamed as you shut your eyes. You couldn’t hear him or see what he was doing so the expectation only added to your arousal. Then you felt his palm again on your skin and your pussy clenched around nothing.

“Again, p-please,” you said.

He chuckled and obliged. Your ass had three red marks with his hand shape and he felt proud of it. He used his fingers on you again as he kissed your spine up until he finally reached your head and whispered in your ear.

“Do you like it when I’m rough with you?” he asked. His deep voice made you feel like you were dreaming.

You nodded with desperate energy. You just wanted his dick inside you again, stretching you so good it almost hurted. And as he could read your mind, he kneeled behind you and used his hands to elevate your hips and thrust again into you. Seeing your ass hit against his pelvis was a glorious sight, he could feel himself on the edge of an orgasm just with it. But he couldn't do that to you. He took a fistful of your hair and pulled back so you couldn't muffle your moans with his cover anymore.

Beni fuck, holy sun and derivatives were the only things you could say between your moans and screams of pleasure. He slapped your ass again with all his strength when his thrusts became sloppy. Sweat dripped from his face to your back and tears of pleasure threatened to fall from your eyes if he kept that monstrous rhythm while ramming into you.

"This is what you wanted, right? Why don't you cum so I can see how bad you wanted this?" he said and slapped you again.

You moaned his name and your arms gave up to your weight and the strength of Benimaru's thrusts. He used a hand to touch your clit and rub it. That was your limit. Your climax hit you and you couldn't even keep your hips up, you collapsed on the bed as the man behind you observed as you struggled to catch your breath. He pumped his dick a few times before he started grinding against your ass and sucking bruises on your neck and shoulder, holding his weight with his hands on both sides of your head.

You felt cornered, trapped under his body and his dick still grinding between your ass cheeks, but you wanted more. So you asked for it.

"Such a good subordinate," he said as he made you roll on your back again.

He took your legs and threw them over his shoulders as he aligned his cock with your pussy to thrust again. He spit over his dick and your clit before starting to move, massaging over your sensitive organ to make you clench on him as he moved forward.

"Fuck," he hissed. He was balls deep inside you again but he didn't move this time.

You whined at the feeling of his cock stretching you again. It almost hurted, to feel him fill you like that and not move an inch.

He was biting his lower lip. You tried to move and he held your hips to make you stop.

"What's the rush?" he whispered and you were on the verge of tears again.

He knew what was the rush. He felt it too, your walls clenching on his dick, your legs trembling on his shoulders with the denial of pleasure.

He sighed. He couldn't keep his façade much longer, his balls ached for release. So he moved again, back and forward, hitting your cervix each time. You screamed and cried, it was too much. First nothing and then too much at once. You had your second and faster orgasm of your life. Benimaru lost it too, finally giving his body release, filling you up with his cum. He stood still again, feeling your pussy frantically clamping on his dick as your climax went down and your legs shaked still over his broad shoulders.

When you could breathe normally again he pulled out of you, cum dripping from your cunt and his dick to the bed.

You observed as he walked outside naked and came back with towels. You sat on the bed as you could, your legs were still shaking. Benimaru helped you to get up and cleaned you before taking off the covers and sheet of his bed.

"You shouldn't walk around naked, what if someone sees you?" you said. What if someone heard us, you thought.

"My room is the only one occupied on this wing, no one's around," he answered. "You can still stay here tonight."

"Here in the seventh or…?"

He didn't answer but he threw you one of his giant shirts before putting on some underwear and walking out again to get clean sheets. You walked out to the bathroom next to his room to wash your face and body. You would have marks in a few hours on a lot of places. You took your bag that was forgotten in the hallway and rushed inside his room again, you were still ashamed that someone saw you.

Benimaru was already sprawled on his bed, semi-naked and with one arm stretched to his side. You took that as an invitation to use it as a pillow as you laid by his side and tiredness finally took over your body.

When you woke up, Beni was gone. You assumed he was already working. You got dressed and you were ready to leave (again). When you walked outside, hoping no one was around, you were met by a soft oh that scared you.

"Konro-san, good morning!" you nervously smiled.

"Good morning. Did you enjoy your stay?"

You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but you decided it was the latter. He didn't look the type to laugh at a nervous woman.

"I did, thank you. Your map was really helpful," you tried to joke now. "I have to go now, sadly. My vacations will be over soon."

"Come to see us whenever you like, I'm sure Waka will be pleased," he smiled.

"Thanks, again. See you next time," you said and walked away after slightly bowing to him.

#fire force #en en no shōbōtai #fire force smut #benimaru shinmon #fire force benimaru #benimaru x reader #shinmon benimaru #fire force x reader #fire force scenarios #benimaru shinmon x reader #enen no shouboutai #fire force konro #konro sagamiya

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fleetingpieces · 3 years

Text

My One in a Million Chapter 8

Hiiiii! I'm back from the dead and finally got back to writing again <3

Sorry it took ages—and sorry it's not a great chapter— but thank you so much everyone for the patience and support, it means so much!

Thank you @inloveoknutzy @donttouchmycarrots and @knittingdreams for beating, love y'all! <3

Tag list: @whataboutmyfries @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @sunflowerfox87 @hereforwolfstarr @potterlocked24-7 @ttylfedora @domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge @lovemeleo @im-lana

CW: Mentions of food

Ao3

Masterlist

Chapter 8 - The morning after

Remus woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. He blinked a few times to get the tiredness out of his eyes—which seemed to want to stay glued shut—and stared at the ceiling for long moments.

His first thought was that, for a second, he thought he could hear Padfoot’s laugh. Vague images of a dream he’d had came flooding back to him; long corridors, empty beds and his gaming console. The sound must have been a remnant of that.

The second thought was that the ceiling of his room was weird. He couldn’t quite pinpoint where the bugging sensation came from, but something was off and he was way too tired to figure out what it was. Maybe he should just go back to sleep. Groaning, he turned around to do just that, and that’s when he got a good look at the rest of the room.

He sat up with a start, regretting it instantly when nausea hit him like a wave. Closing his eyes, he stayed still until the feeling ebbed away, then opened them again slowly.

This wasn’t his room. There was no sign of any of his stuff; instead, he saw a big mirror, a dark wood chest of drawers, and a trail of scattered things that either belonged to different people or to someone with diverse tastes: a blue hair tie, a black snapback, t-shirts that at a glance he could tell were of different sizes, with stamps that varied from Disney to Strand.

One by one, memories from the night before popped up as the fogginess from sleep left him completely. That’s right, Sirius had offered his home to him after he’d found Remus outside of his flat; he’d come in to take a shower and had sat on the couch as they watched a movie and drank. Things were a bit hazy from that point on.

Had he really pouted and asked Sirius to stay with him like a little kid? Fuck, please let that be a part of the drunk hallucinations. He turned around slowly, glancing to the other side of the bed with his heart beating fast in his throat, but the spot next to him was empty.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Remus threw the blankets to the side and planted his feet on the floor to get some resemblance of stability, but frowned when he stepped on something. Looking down, he noticed a pillow and a blanket lying rumpled on the floor, next to his side of the bed.

A pang of guilt made its way to his chest when he realised Sirius must have slept on the floor while Remus was on the bed, covered from head to toe and warm. Sirius had been so careful with him. Every touch had been gentle, not invasive but rather trying not to overstep, trying to comfort. So, so very careful.

Remus felt slightly ashamed for thinking Sirius would take advantage of him. Not to mention for the way he'd bawled his eyes out in front of the man. He’d made a fool of himself yet again, something that kept happening a lot as of late and to which he wasn’t used to.

“Oh, God.” He remembered how he’d felt his mother’s hand brushing his hair before he fell asleep and he desperately hoped he hadn’t called out for her in his dream. Bringing a hand to his forehead, he could almost feel that phantom touch, tracing fingertips over his hairline.

He rubbed his face in embarrassment. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face Sirius after all that, but there was no way he could fall asleep again and a quick glance at the clock on the opposite wall told him it was barely eight in the morning. It was still too early to call Leo or go back to the clinic, plus he didn’t know how everything had panned out.

Remus glanced at the bedside table where his phone was lying face down and stretched over to grab it. He flipped it from hand to hand, back and forth, the small thing weighing him down every time it fell on his palm with a soft thud.

He could call.

He should call.

But what if something had gone wrong? What if Cocoa had had a complication during the night? Would they have notified him already if that was the case? Did he want to find out like this, far away from him and helpless to do anything? He didn’t want to show any more weaknesses in front of Sirius, he’d already shown more of his vulnerable side than he’d ever intended to.

Nodding to himself, Remus got up and threw the phone on the bed. He took two steps towards the door. The doctor had told him to go in the afternoon; he could wait a couple of hours before going back to the clinic and then he would know and—

A huff escaped him as Remus hurried back and dialed the number, plopping down on the mattress.

“Thank you for calling Mercy Animal Clinic. This is Jennifer, how can I help you?”

“Yes, hi, my name is Remus? I brought my dog in last night for chocolate poisoning and I—I was just calling to check on him?”

“Of course, Sir. What is the patient's name?”

“Cocoa,” said Remus, gripping his phone a bit tighter. Jennifer hummed and asked for a few more details to confirm his identity, to which Remus replied on autopilot, his mind going blank in a subconscious attempt to protect himself.

“Just a second, please.”

Remus busied himself counting the floorboards while he waited, trying to calm his nerves, but it had the opposite effect as he became very aware of how long Jennifer was taking to find what he wanted to know. He’d started tapping his foot when the receptionist finally came back on the other end of the line.

“Yes, everything was ok during the night and Cocoa will be ready to go home after lunch,” they said cheerfully.

Remus’ breath stopped completely and then he exhaled loudly. He could have sworn he felt his heart unclench, invisible fingers letting go of their painful grip and allowing blood to stream freely again. His shoulders dropped, releasing all the pent up tension that had been building there since he’d stepped into his apartment the night before, and he laid down, covering his eyes with his free arm.

“Sir?” Jennifer said hesitantly.

“Yes. Ok. Ok. Thanks, I’ll be there.” He hung up and let the phone fall at his side.

The silence of the room was an echo of his own head as Remus tried to let the words sink in. He peeked at the ceiling from under his arm. Cocoa was fine. The phrase repeated itself a few times until Remus took a deep breath and swung himself up.

The hall was quiet outside of the room, but he could hear some noises coming from ahead. Remus bunched the sleeves of the jumper he was wearing, not too willing to admit how comfy and warm he was in Sirius’ clothes. Especially not when he was assaulted by memories of Sirius helping him walk through this same corridor the night before and Remus almost gave in to the embarrassment. Sirius probably thought he was pathetic.

Groaning, he steeled himself as he padded the rest of the way, but his step faltered before going into the kitchen, a hand rising to settle on the wall. Something smelled amazing in there. Like melted butter and Saturday mornings back home, with his mom humming as she stood by the stove and the sun streamed in through the open windows. The sound of the sizzling pan was accompanied by a rock song playing in the background, a cool guitar distortion filling the room, followed by a gravelly voice singing a capella.

And there was Sirius in the middle of it all, moving around the kitchen gracefully, head bopping and singing into a ladle. He slid across the floor like Tom Cruise in that old movie as he moved to the fridge and a chuckle bubbled out of Remus’ chest, taking with it most of the heaviness still clinging to him.

Sirius jumped up, accidentally closing the fridge door with a bang, and turned to face Remus fully. It was only then that Remus realized what he was wearing: he had black ripped jeans and a black tee, his hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail; and on top of all that, he had one of those aprons that had a buff man printed on the front, that read “Kiss the chef”.

Remus stared for so long that Sirius followed his gaze and looked down, only to look back up quickly with a blush. “It was James’ idea of a joke.”

James, as Remus was quickly learning, took special pleasure in teasing his friends, although Lily claimed he always failed when it came to her. But Sirius clearly treasured anything that came from his best friend, no matter how silly or awkward.

Clearing his throat, Remus stepped into the kitchen and peered at the stove. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes!” Sirius exclaimed, seemingly glad for the rapid move of the subject. “I thought you could use some hangover breakfast,” he added with a shrug before turning back to the mixing bowl on the counter.

“Oh,” Remus said dumbly, taken by surprise. He scrambled for something to add. “Did you get the recipe from the same place as those cookies?”

Sirius spluttered and threw an offended look over his shoulder. “Mon Dieu, I’m never going to live that down, am I? I’ll have you know, these are my speciality. But I won’t give you anything if you keep that attitude up.”

Laughing quietly, Remus breathed a sigh of relief that Sirius wasn't looking at him with pity or mentioning his sorry state from the night before. So much had happened between them in just one day, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act anymore. He shuffled awkwardly to the island and, as he leaned on it, the name of the song Sirius had been dancing to dawned on him.

“I can’t believe you’re actually listening to Black Dog,” Remus said, covering his face, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

“Hey,” Sirius turned to point at him with the batter-covered ladle, “Plant speaks to me on a spiritual level. I’m sending good vibes to Cocoa.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, making an effort to keep the corners of his mouth down. “You do know that the lyrics have nothing to do with dogs, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s the feeling that counts,” he waved his hand dismissively, sending a few vanilla-colored drops flying, “and the song title.” Smiling at that logic, Remus shook his head—as weird as it was, he found it reassuring. Sirius peered at him as he flipped the golden pancakes easily. “I’m glad you look better. How are you feeling?”

Remus tensed up, but it didn’t look like Sirius was making fun of him. Focusing on some point by his feet, he rubbed at his neck. "Yeah, um. Thank you for your help. And sorry about...everything. I guess it was one thing after the other and it was just too much.”

“We’ve been through this, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Sirius smiled tentatively. “Have they contacted you from the vets?”

“Actually, I called just now.” His heart rate picked up as excitement coursed through his body. Saying the words aloud made them even more real, allowed them to settle in and gave way to tiny pinpricks of impatience. “They said everything’s good. I can bring him home after lunch.”

Sirius turned to face him fully and his hand went to grip Remus’ forearm, his smile turning so bright it was almost blinding. “Remus, that’s great.”

Remus smiled too, staring straight at him. “Yeah,” he breathed. After a second too long, he coughed discreetly and moved back. “I just feel like I won’t be able to relax fully until I see him, you know? I wish I could go over now.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Sirius said as he leaned back too, fingers moving to play with the strings of his apron. “Just a few more hours, eh?” Remus hummed noncommittally and, sensing that he needed a bit of a distraction, Sirius turned his attention back to the food. “In the meantime, can you get the plates from over there?” He pointed at a cabinet as he got the pan out of the stove.

Remus did as he was asked and brought them over to the counter, where an array of toppings were waiting. His stomach grumbled as he watched Sirius cutting up some strawberries to place over the pancakes and then drizzling chocolate on top of everything, singing under his breath to the next song on his playlist. It was all oddly domestic. It was nice.

They sat in the living room to eat, though instead of sharing the couch like they had last night, Sirius—now without the ridiculous apron—sat across the coffee table on one of the armrests. Remus took a bite of the fluffy sponge and closed his eyes with a hum. “Ok, you were right. These are awesome.”

Sirius had just taken a mouthful himself, but he beamed before he swallowed and licked some of the chocolate off his finger. “Glad you like them, Re. I don’t think my reputation could have survived another fiasco.”

“Are you sure this wasn’t just a lucky mistake?” Remus joked, if only to ignore the way his stomach jumped at the nickname, prompting Sirius to throw a napkin at him.

For the next two hours or so, the conversation was light and easy while the music kept playing at a dim level. But, as time went on and the plates got piled up on the coffee table, Sirius started getting distracted.

He kept glancing at his phone like he was checking the time or waiting for a call. Remus would have thought that he was overstaying his welcome—Sirius had a life to get back to, after all—if it weren’t for the fact that the man kept the conversation going and going, asking questions and gesturing excitedly when he was telling a story about how he and his friends had once managed to get a flock of pigeons inside a train full of passengers. At this point, Remus was pretty sure that Sirius was not capable of lying.

A lazy breeze drifted in from the open window, bringing in the smell of morning dew and ruffling Sirius’ hair so that a few strands fell in front of his face. As he brushed them back, he raised his eyes and pinned Remus with a look that was slowly becoming very familiar. That look that said he wanted to say something but he was choosing his words carefully.

Remus was pretty sure he knew what that meant. So far, everything he’d blabbed about the night before had been skillfully avoided—mostly by Remus averting his eyes every time Sirius looked at him like that. He wasn’t looking away now though. Wasn’t sure he could, honestly; not with such intensity and thinly-veiled concern directed his way. Sirius opened his mouth, the words starting to form at the back of his throat when Remus’ phone pinged.

He jumped slightly and went to quickly fish it out of his pocket, holding on to the getaway it provided. Talking about his behaviour or the few hints he’d let slip about his past was not something he was ready to tackle. A quiet sigh dropped from Sirius’ lips as he got up to take the plates back to the kitchen, while Remus stared at the notification flashing on his home page. “Oh, Padfoot just uploaded a new video?”

The sound of ceramic banging in the sink startled Remus into looking up. “Um...you ok?”

“Yes! Too much soap,” Sirius’ voice came back, muffled slightly by the running water.

Remus snorted and got comfortable on one end of the couch, resting his back on the side and pulling his knees up. He wiggled his toes as he waited for the page to load, digging them into the plush sofa and then tapping his feet when the video finally started. It began like usual, with the starting screen of a game and Padfoot’s cheerful voice.

“Hello everyone and welcome! You’ve all been nagging at me to play with Prongs more often, so I hope you appreciate how much effort it took to get his ass out of bed.”

“That’s so not the introduction I was expecting,” another voice complained.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to do it?”

“Why, yes, thank you. Hello y’all! By popular demand and because I know you like me more than this silly goose, I am here to play some games and have fun! Mostly at Padfoot’s expense.”

“You’re the only person in the world who could say ‘silly goose’ and not have everyone laughing at them.”

“I know, it’s a skill I honed for years.”

“What the hell,” Remus laughed, shaking his head fondly.

Sirius came back into the room, drying his hands absentmindedly on his pants as he took his seat back. He sat at the very edge of the cushion, leaning slightly forward with his hands clasped between his knees, eyes down.

Remus made a questioning sound, waving the phone in front of him. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Sirius croaked, gesturing with his hand for him to go on as he cleared his throat.

A small line of confusion pulled Remus’ brows together. Something was definitely going through Sirius’ mind. Deciding to give the man some time, Remus focused his attention back on the video and made a note to ask later if something was bothering him.

Padfoot was talking about the game they were going to play and Remus could feel his energy even through the screen. He always got like this when he was trying something new. Remus pictured him bouncing on his chair, waiting impatiently to start playing, tapping the buttons in anticipation. “He’s like a kid on sugar, isn’t he?” he said without thinking.

A cough came from Sirius’ spot. “Well, I… I think it’s...nice? He sounds happy.”

The corners of Remus’ lips tugged up in a small smile at that. “Yeah. That’s good.”

“Huh?”

“He didn’t seem his usual self in the past few streams. I’m just glad he’s ok, is all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw how Sirius’ hands gripped his knees tightly, slipping through the holes in his jeans. Remus watched in silence but, just when he was about to ask what was going on, the video changed. A small square appeared on one of the corners, showing a man sitting in a chair, not much to see in the background, his face covered with the black dog that was his signature logo. Remus sat up straighter. It wasn’t often that Padfoot appeared in his videos and he couldn’t help the interest that sparked inside him whenever it happened. He scanned the small image until something caught his eye.

“Huh? ...Wait. That’s—” Remus froze for a second before promptly throwing his phone to the other end of the couch. “Oh my God.” He covered his mouth, feeling the pull of his mouth as a grin lit up his face, his wide eyes not leaving the small device lying innocently face up. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

“What happened?”

Remus turned to see Sirius looking at him with a confused little smile, probably wondering if he was still drunk or just bonkers.

“He...he’s wearing my merch. My merch.” And one of his favourite hoodies from the collection, at that. “How—How does he even know about me? I know he likes to keep in shape but…”

The faintest blush crossed Sirius’ cheeks. He rubbed his hands together, looking down at them and then back up at Remus’ still astounded face. He took a deep breath and exhaled in one go. “You know, I’m...” He trailed off, mouth opening and closing a few times.

Remus tried to bring his thoughts back to the room, to the man in front of him and not the one on the screen. He bent forward to grab the discarded phone, his mind still reeling as he paused the video. “Yeah?” he prompted Sirius to go on when he straightened back up, smile still in place—he wasn’t sure he could wipe it off even if he wanted to.

Sirius’ grey eyes roamed his face, then went to the phone in his hands before they finally settled on his bright expression and he sighed, smiling and shaking his head. “No, nevermind.”

Remus tilted his head, but Sirius simply shrugged. “Are you sure? You can say it, whatever it is.”

“I don’t think it’s the right time,” Sirius admitted, letting his head fall back as he worried his lip.

Curiosity flared up, dazzling and hot, and Remus tried to water it down, unwilling to trespass Sirius’ boundaries. Instead, he looked down and tried to organise his whirring mind, eyes going to the clock on his phone. “Fuck,” he muttered. He really wanted to finish watching and keep talking with Sirius, but it was getting late. “I should probably get going.”

“Oh,” Sirius blinked as he raised his head up. “You can stay if you want to.”

“No, I…” Remus stood up. “I should go get the key from Leo. I will probably see both his mom and mine, which means it won’t be a short visit and I’d like to be at the clinic as soon as possible.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Stopping midstep, Remus turned to look at Sirius, eyebrows raised. “Come with me?”

“Yeah, to the clinic? You are not too fond of them.”

It wasn’t a question, but Remus replied anyway, surprised that Sirius had caught on to that at all. “No, I’m not,” he said, dumbfounded. He shook his head. “But it’s ok, you did a lot for me already.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Remus, anyone in my place would have done the same.”

No, they wouldn’t.

“It’s fine, really. Leo will probably come with me,” he said. He wasn’t sure how Sirius could think that everyone was that selfless, that any person would have helped an almost stranger without thinking it was too much effort. Remus chose not to say anything about it, knowing fully well that was not the case.

#my one in a million #moiam #fanfic #remus x sirius #siriusxremus #sirius x lupin #wolfstar fic #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black

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bestiepetedavidson · 3 years

Note

Can I request hcs what Pete would do when you're standing in the middle of the night at his door, after a break up with your now ex boyfriend? Thankss ❣

yes! this game me inspo and i’m going to try to do a written-out story if that’s ok! :)

a/n: y’all this is the first story ish thing i’ve ever written so i apologize if it’s really bad/cringey! i feel like it’s extremely choppy but idrk how to fix it. constructive critism/suggestions/etc is ALWAYS appreciated! thank u! <3

song to listen to: i’m thinking adore you by bestie harry? idk it just fits hehe

tw: angst? i think? idk this is my first time writing this much lol. some strong language. ending with fluff :)

it was almost 3 am on a saturday night, pouring rain and thundering, and you were left crying on your now ex’s doorstep. you ran into your car, soaking wet. your boyfriend/girlfriend of 3 years, the person you were gonna marry- had just dumped you. they cheated on you with your best friend.

you had no one to talk to and nowhere to go. you’re pretty introverted, and the only people you really had were your ex-best friend, your ex, and your friend pete. and pete’s friends too, technically. they were mainly his friends but you would all hang out together, none of which you felt comfortable enough to go to.

you called pete- no answer. he probably still hasn’t left 30 Rock. but anyways, he had a lot on his plate. you continued to bawl as tears rolled down your cheeks and your mascara smudged underneath your eyes. you broke down and you couldn’t stop. he/she broke your heart into a million pieces in the matter of seconds. the past 3 years of your life had gone to waste.

you decided to just drive. you didn’t have anywhere to go because you were staying with him/her. you just drove around aimlessly for 20 minutes, still crying the whole time. then, you got a phone call. “pete”, your phone read. thank god. quickly, you pulled into a random grocery store’s parking lot. you picked the phone up and your bluetooth connected to your car.

“y/n” pete said. he sounded tired.

“yeah?” you responded, still crying.

“what happened? is everything okay?”

you tried to explain what had just happened, but you were too much of a crying mess for him to make out anything you were saying.

pete, confused, told you “y/n, i’m sorry, i can’t understand what you’re saying”. he took a deep breath, and continued. “do you want to come over? i just got home from work. we can talk it out”. his voice sounded worried

you agreed and hung up, and set your google maps to his apartment address. you started to blast a random spotify breakup playlist and drove.

a little later, at around 3:40, you finally made it. still soaking wet from the rain, you took the elevator up to his floor. you had somewhat calmed down, but you looked like you’ve been through a trainwreck. you knocked on pete’s door and he opened it to see you in your current state. the moment you saw him you just broke down, and he pulled you into a hug without saying anything.

so there you two were. just standing in the middle of the building’s hallway, hugging. in the middle of the night. he didn’t care that you were getting him and his clothes wet, and he didn’t care that he couldn’t go to sleep. he was simply focused on you and what was going on. he softly rubbed your back, and every time you would start shake uncontrollably again, he’d just hug you harder.

eventually, he suggested going back in. “y/n, let’s go inside and sit. you can tell me what’s going on and i’ll do my best to help.”

he held the door for you to go in, and you walked in and sat on his couch. he sat right next to you and there was a moment of silence before he decided to speak up. “hey.. y/n look at me. please.”

his words only made you cry more. he place his hand on your chin and slowly lifted it, giving you a slight “please tell me what’s going on” smile.

you took his hand off of your face and held on to his thumb. you were luckily able to get a hold of yourself and explained to him what had just happened, crying in between sentences. he didn’t take his eyes off of you for a second. he stayed there and listened to absolutely everything you had to stay, his thumb still in your hand. by the time you were done, any trace of makeup that was still on your eyes was a done deal, and it was all smeared on your cheeks. he took a deep breath and gave his opinions.

“wow.. y/ex/n is a fucking scumbag. no like seriously, what the actual fuck. who would do that? and especially to someone like you.. y/n you deserve so much better than that piece of shit. fuck him/her.”

you cried, and responded with “no, he/she’s right. i wasn’t worth it and y/bsf/n is so much better fit for him/her. she’s so much prettier and smarter and just better”

pete took a second. “y/n that is so fucking wrong. you can’t say that about yourself. you are beautiful and smart and amazing in every single way. anybody would be lucky as fuck to date you.”

you simply shrugged, he knew that he couldn’t technically change your mind and that you weren’t in a state to really believe that, so you just let it be. he took both of his hands and cupped your face.

“you are perfect.” he tried to wipe your cheeks with his thumbs but it only made things worse, spreading it all across your face. you looked across the room at that large mirror he had hanging on the wall and went “ah”, making fun of the way he made it look.

“hey, at least we have matching raccoon eyes now” pete said, smiling. to that you giggled, and he responded with “gahhh, there’s that smile i love”, as he hugged you again.

still sniffling but now with a smile on your face, you whispered “thank you” in his ear.

“anytime. and listen, you don’t get to talk about my best friend like that.” he responded

sending him another smile, you went to his bathroom to wash your face.

best friend, he said. nothing more.

while you still loved your ex boyfriend/girlfriend, you always secretly had a crush on pete. it was ever anything you would’ve acted on though. first of all, because of your friendship. you wouldn’t want to ruin the way things were. second, because you were dating someone. you loved them and you wouldn’t just cheat... but apparently they would. and did. third, you had just had your heart broken. you were in no state of mind to just go and admit your crush. but god, was it tempting. and it’s not like if you were to, you would want to start dating him. he most likely wouldn’t like you back, and even if he did, you wouldn’t want to date. you learned that you needed to take things slow, and pete knew that about himself too.

you walked back out, and you noticed that pete was in the kitchen, making tea. he knows that you love it. he saw you glaring and smiled, going “what? you love it.” you started to giggle because pete is absolutely not a tea person, but the gesture is just so cute. “shut up,” pete jokingly went, “we’re watching spongebob to help calm you and you’re sleeping here tonight”

“oh petey! how you’re just the sweetest!” you mocked him, smiling at each other.

you went to his closet to get a bunch of blankets, and soon enough, y’all were sitting & cuddling on his couch, watching spongebob on his couch, drinking tea, and cuddled up in a multitude of blankets. you were still worn out from sobbing and very tired, but. it was the perfect comfort spot. he always knew what to do. he was your comfort person.

he started smoking a blunt, (that’s pete for you) and he offered if you wanted a hit, but you declined. smirking, he decided to put it out. after an episode, it was already 4 am. you knew he was tired and so were you, so you suggested going to sleep, but pete insisted that y’all finish the episode. neither of you were really paying attention but it was kind of just playing in the background.

pete starts talking about random stuff going on, life stuff, making little jokes, the SNL show that he just did, etc etc. he’s sitting back on the couch and you’re on his side, head on his chest. you’ve cuddled platonically before so it’s nothing new. you’re both watching the screen and going in and out of conversation. at some point, you lift your head up off his chest, and you just stare at him while he’s continuing his story. he doesn’t really notice you getting up, and continues to talk about a recent standup he did.

watching his face, his jaw moving, talking, the way he speaks and the way his voice sounds, something changes in you and you feel the urgent need to kiss him. he notices that you’re looking at him. he turns his head and looks down at you. the second he notices that you’re staring at him, his words slowly fade out and he just looks into your eyes, forgetting what he as saying before. you’re still in his arms, but your head is up and you’re just staring at each other. there’s about 5 inches between your faces, and your heart starts racing. his does too.

“pete” you quietly whisper.

he softly presses his lips into yours and you kiss him back. his hand runs through your hair. his lips are perfect and it’s like you two were made for each other. the kiss lasts for like 10 seconds, and he slowly pulls away. you’re both at a loss for words, and you’re still staring into each other’s eyes. pete, breathless, quickly glances that the digital clock underneath his tv.

“wow,” pete says. “i’ve been waiting for as long as i can remember for this to happen and it happens at 4:20,” slowly creeping up a smile.

“i kno-” you start to respond, when you fully realize what he just said. you cackle out and can’t stop laughing, neither can he.

you pull him back into you as you’re both still giggling and you softly make out for a little longer. eventually you fall asleep in his arms, right on his couch. with spongebob still playing in the background :)

i hope u enjoyed my very first mess of a story <3 requests are open!

🤍🤍🤍

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x you

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huntergatherercreator · 3 years

Text

The Takedown | Part Fifteen

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective Reader

Summary: NYC has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire. You're going undercover to stop him.

Warnings: Maybe a teeny bit of violence?

AN: It’s been a minute since the last part of this series was posted. I haven’t written anything since then so fingers crossed this is OK.

Part 15 - 1,601 words

My apartment had already been too small. Now with Joe blocking the doorway and Holland practically breathing down my neck it felt tiny. Hunching closer to the laptop screen I tried to focus on the information scrolling before me. I’d pulled up the last three months worth of records detailing what cruise ships had docked and was whittling down the list slowly. There were ones we’d suspected that had already had a full background check but I couldn’t cross them off without raising suspicions.

“What’s this?” I stilled as Holland leaned over my shoulder, finger tapping at an entry. With his breath tickling my throat and the soft scent of shampoo emanating from his curls it took me a minute to focus.

“It seems like a shell company. I can try to trace it but it’ll take time.”

“How can you tell?” Suspicion was apparently his only tone tonight. I nudged out the chair beside me as an invitation. When it went ignored I twisted in my seat, intent on glaring at him until he relented, only to realise too late how close he actually was. My lips skimmed over his cheek. I could feel my colour drain as his breath caught. I made to shove back from the table but his hand caught my shoulder, holding me down.

“Trace them,” he murmured. Hands shaking slightly I pulled up a new search engine to start. Only when I started typing did he let go. Relief trickled through me but it was short lived. Dragging the offered chair to the corner of the table he slipped off his jacket and hooked it to the back before settling with crossed arms to watch me. I flicked a glance over his shoulder to Joe who threw me a wink before going back to staring out the window. Trying to shove back the humiliation I could feel creeping up my cheeks I pulled up as much as I could about the company, already knowing it’d come to a dead end.

After half an hour I read out the details I’d scribbled down, eyes firmly on my notepad as Holland questioned me. Then he chose another company. And another. On and on until we’d almost exhausted the list.

The smell of expensive coffee roused me from my notebook. I blinked and a takeaway cup appeared under my nose courtesy of Joe. I accepted it with a grateful smile and he gave me another of what was becoming his signature winks. Closing the laptop I shuffled my notes into order and put both on the counter allowing Joe to start emptying the paper bag of breakfast foods he’d bought. It wasn’t until I was up out of my chair that I realised how sore I was. Rolling my neck I rubbed at a tender spot on my shoulder with a grimace.

“Maybe you should take five to clean up?” Joe offered. My eyes automatically drifted to Holland for the first time in several hours. He looked as dishevelled as I felt. Hair unruly once again from running his hands through it every time I hit a dead end. I realised with a jolt that I was waiting for his permission.

“Good idea.” I mumbled. Quickly skirting past them both I headed for the bathroom locking the door firmly behind me. I cringed as I caught myself in the mirror. My skin was pale, tired. The tie that had been keeping my hair back had failed leaving long messy wisps falling around my face. Running the cold water I repeatedly doused my skin until I felt the last of the brain fog disappear. I needed to be on higher alert, more so than before. Holland wouldn’t keep accepting the trails going cold. There was only so long he’d sit patiently knowing Rivera was out there. I needed to find a solid lead but I wasn’t sure if I could on my own. As much as I’d learned about tracking down corrupt company details those had all been from tracing low level thugs, people who didn't have the knowledge or the money to properly cover their tracks. Rivera had both of those things. It could be damn near impossible to directly link him to anything.

A jolt ran through me. Wasn’t that exactly what Holland did? He made it impossible for anyone to get information about the next level because each of his men ran their own area. Quickly drying my face I threw open the door coming face to face with Holland.

“You and Rivera are the same,” I started the words dying in my throat as his mood visibly darkened.

“No. We’re not.” He stalked closer and it took me a second to collect my thoughts as replays of the day before hit me. My gaze flicked to the damaged wall. A reminder not to push him, no matter how much I wanted to.

“Let me finish,” I insisted, hands coming up to hold him off. “How did I find you?”

Confusion flashed before irritation settled on his face. “Stupidity, and luck.”

“No. It was through Arnold. The only way to you is through your men. It’s the same with Rivera, he-” He pressed his palms against the door frame either side of me, blocking me in.

“Why are you wasting my time? Rivera’s men don’t know where he is. If they did Joe would have gotten the information.”

“Stop interrupting me!” I shoved against his chest in frustration. He grabbed my wrists spinning me until my back was pressed against the cold tiles of the bathroom. Eyes boring into mine his jaw ticked, grip getting tighter.

“I am nothing like him.” Anger surged as we fell into the same dance we always did. Hooking a leg behind his I used his grip against him and put him on his back. A sliver of sympathy shot through me as he lost his breath but I let my anger chase it away, using it to power my arms into holding him down.

“I’m fed up with you thinking you can push me around and bully me. This,” I motioned with my head to the position we were currently in, “is the last time I have to do this. Understood?”

Eyes unreadable he nodded curtly. I cautiously let go, easing back to a sitting position, not ready to give up the upper hand just yet. When I was sure he wasn’t going to lash out I continued.

“We’re looking through the information for ties to Rivera himself. We should be looking for ties to the men we know he associates with. He’s using them as scapegoats. The companies are in their names, that way if anything goes wrong-”

“Then the trail ends with them” he finished, shoulders slumping as the realisation hit him.

“Exactly. And what better way to ensure your men’s loyalty. They’ll do everything they can to ensure their area runs smoothly because it’s their necks on the line, not his.” My smug smile was missed as he closed his eyes, hands coming up to scrub at his face.

“You didn’t sleep did you?” I asked gently. He let out a humourless laugh, his body rocking under mine. I planted my hands on his stomach to stop from falling onto him. Fingers splayed I could feel the solid muscles that made up his abdomen tensing as he shifted. The realisation of our position hit me. Mouth dry I tried to chase off the scenarios that my brain was throwing at me. I could control myself. Or so I told myself repeatedly.

“Care to let me up?” he asked, eyebrow raising as he looked pointedly at where I was touching him.

Sure he’d somehow been able to read my thoughts it took me a second to find my voice again. “It depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you can behave yourself. I meant it before, this is the last time. You’d never have figured any of this out without me.” I instinctively clenched my hands into fist. His t-shirt got tangled in my grip, tugging it up to reveal a small section of skin just above his waistband where the line of his hipbone slid out of sight. I was a hypocrite asking him to have decency when all I could think about was how much more I’d be able to expose before he stopped me.

“You’re right.” I almost lost my balance in shock at his admittance, eyes darting away from him.

“From now on you can take the lead but only when we’re alone. In front of my men you say nothing.”

I reigned in the urge to roll my eyes. Given who I was dealing with the conditions could have been a lot worse. I could handle letting him keep the facade of all knowing mob boss.

“Deal,” I agreed. “We have breakfast then I need you to get me the names of Rivera’s men. The higher their status the better. I’ll work on retracing the list from earlier and cross referencing it against them. And you, you’re going to get some sleep. It’s a waste of resources having you sit watching me. Joe can help in your place, he was the one that interrogated them anyway so he’ll know more than you do at this stage.” Reluctantly I released his clothing and pushing up to my feet. Instead of joining me he propped himself on his elbows.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, deadpan. Spinning I left him on the bathroom floor as the heat that had been simmering through me peaked. Get it together, I mentally scolded myself.

- - - - - - -

Taglist:

@spideylovin

@lukesbabylon

@panicattheeverywherekid

@keep-bears-wild

@unbelievableholland

@tomholland-mcu

@whattheheckparker

@stargazerholland

@gorillaglue23

@marvelpeters

@weirdowithnobeardo

Part 16!

#Mob!Tom #mob!tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

I hate it when you stare

Wow here I am with another part, another fic. Ignooooree my typooos. Is this more soft smut? No one told me last time if what I wrote counts so uhhhhhhh

Read the whole series: I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

I really do have work to do for my class at 2:30 tomorrow but instead I finished this, so I hope you like this!

_______________________

“How is it bullshit? Everyone can tell that we’re in love with each other.”

“So, what, because other people believe it, that automatically means it’s true?”

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

Evelina was visiting home for the weekend for her mom’s birthday, which meant that you had the apartment to yourself. From Friday after work until Sunday night, you were free to do whatever you wanted by yourself. Or, you thought you were going to be doing whatever you wanted until your boss texted you saying that he wanted your project finished by Monday so you could present it that afternoon. That meant you were posted up on the couch, your hair tied in a bun on top of your head, a mug full of coffee, another of tea, and a cup with water all in front of you, the blanket normally on the back of your couch now draped over your shoulders. It was a full call to the hungover days you had back in undergrad when you woke up late and were struggling to finish the work you had due the next morning.

“It’s me!” you hear a familiar voice call from the door, snapping you out of what might have been the first and only roll you had been on working on the project.

You look up to see Matthew coming over the couch, plastic bags in hand to plop down on the table. “Remind me to change the locks.”

“That would mean you have to get up to let me in, though,” he sends a wink in your direction.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him, even though you felt butterflies throughout your entire body at the sight of him looking so comfortable next to you. It was just because he’s a guy, not because it’s Matthew. You let out a quiet sigh as he fiddles with the remote to your TV. “Who says I wouldn’t leave you in the hallway? Plus, I thought you were supposed to have practice today?” you ask, trying to focus more on your project than on him.

“We’re done, and we don’t have a game for three days for once, so we’re resting up. I figured, why not come see my favorite girl?” he says, resting his hand on your shin once your drape your legs over his lap.

“Because Taryn is in St. Louis so you settled for me instead?”

He scoffs, slowly running his hand up and down your bare leg while his eyes fixate on the television screen. He had to be able to feel the goosebumps that he was causing with his touch. “Fine, my favorite girl in Calgary unless Taryn is visiting, are you happy?”

“Am I ever happy when I’m around you?” you tease, lifting only your eyes from your screen to look at him. Still staring at the TV, you can see the smile on his face, but it almost looks like his jaw is clenching, like he’s fighting saying something back.

“And how could I not be happy around you when you treat me like that?” Your eyes linger for a second on his smile before scanning the rest of his body. Even under the long-sleeved dry fit shirt he was wearing, you could see the outline of the muscles that graced his abdomen. His arms looked like they were begging to rip the seam of the shirt, and you wanted nothing more than to take it off of him and just let them free. “Do you like what you see, babe?” you hear him say, snapping you out of the thoughts you were convincing yourself meant nothing as he was looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m trying to picture you as a more attractive guy,” you lie, “It would be so nice if Elias were here, wouldn’t it?”

“If you’re implying that you want a threesome, then I don’t think I could do it with a teammate,” he laughs, his fingers tightening around your shin. Would Elias be better than Matthew? Any guy would be better than Matthew, you tell yourself. He’s your best friend, and nothing more.

“What have I said about being crude?” you ask him, fixating your eyes on the way he’s biting his bottom lip. “I think I’m gonna go get my headphones so I can do this project.” You bolt from the living room to your bedroom, leaving Matthew there by himself while you search for your phone in a panic.

“Hey, is everything ok?” Evelina says on the other end of the phone call as you try to search for your AirPods in the mess that was your room.

“No, Matthew is here.”

“And that’s bad because?” she asks, drawing out her last word.

Groaning, you drop your phone on your desk, prompting Matthew to call to you asking if you were ok. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” Turning back to Evelina, clearly in a panic that she could hear in your voice, “Matthew is here and I think I’m horny.”

“You’re always horny for him because you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not in love with him and I’m honry because I haven’t been touched by a man in like, three months. It’s starvation.”

You hear her groan on the other end, her parents voices in the background. “Hold on, I need to go into another room,” she says. “Ok, so you really told me two days when you got home that you and Matthew nearly fucked in public in the liquor store. You have been touched by a man. He was also practically feeling you up at the bar a week ago, might I remind you.”

“I don’t love him,” you say, unprompted, “And he never even kissed me.”

“Says that hickey that you somehow didn’t notice he gave you?” she says, you turning to your mirror to touch the mark she was talking about. You honestly didn’t know it was there until she said something to you when you walked in the door. “If you don’t love him, why don’t you just tell him to leave?”

“I want company and he’s the only thing I have when you aren’t here. Really, this is all your fault.”

“That was so sweet until you blamed me. If you don’t want him to leave then what’s the problem?”

“Horny,” you say at the same time. “Either do something about it or control yourself, babe, but I’ve gotta go. Miss you, love you,” she says, hanging up when you finally find your AirPods.

Pulling up your playlist so it’s already playing when you get to Matthew, you don’t even look at him as you take your computer back in your lap and throw your legs in his. You can feel his eyes tracing the outline of your body even under the baggy sweatshirt you had on from a college you never went to.

You had worked for what was probably a solid half hour, Matthew mindlessly rubbing his hand on your leg like he did before, you needing to do everything in your power to stop from thinking about and wanting more. You were interrupted by Matthew reaching over and tugging on the hem of your shorts. “Are you really listening to Christmas music right now?”

“Is it that loud?” you ask, turning the volume down immediately.

“No, I can read your lips. You were mouthing ‘Feliz Navidad,’ and ‘Sleigh Ride.’”

“Oh, then, yes,” your cheeks flushed with embarrassment that you didn’t even realize you were doing that.

“It’s March, babe.”

“Ok, but Christmas music is fine year round.”

“No?” he questions.

“So I’m going to tell you why you’re wrong,” you start, moving your computer to the table so you don’t drop it, provoking a laugh to escape from his lips, “While I don’t agree with all things in Catholic and the broader Christian doctrine, there are things I can agree with basically because they are up for interpretation, so I interpret them in the way I like. Take, for example, the ninth commandment: love thy neighbor. Some people take it as a literal ‘love thy neighbor’ as in ‘be a good neighbor,’ to the ones who live next door, but I think it’s a matter of caring for those around you, neighbor not being the person immediately next to you wherever you live, but just other people in general.”

“What is your point?” he asks, a devilish grin spread across his face.

“My point is that the Bible, which is the end all be all of Catholic doctrine according to some people, is up for interpretation and people use it the way that benefits them, no matter how wrong they normally are. In Hebrews 13:15, it says, “Through him let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name,” thereby, justifying and promoting listening to Christmas music year round. It praises Jesus, who is one of the persons that make up God, and doing year round is continuous.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Hey, if people can be assholes and use a 2,000 year old book to try to wrongly justify their bigotry and homophobia, why can’t I use it to rightly justify my listening to christmas music all year?”

“Are you Catholic?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn about it and keep the things that I like with me. I’m not Jesuit but I follow their ideals like ‘care for the whole person’ and ‘be a man or woman with and for other.’ And Evelina’s parents are very religious, so we kind of put up a front whenever they visit to please them. They still think we go to Mass every Sunday.”

“Is that why there’s sometimes a crucifix by the door?” he asks, you nodding along. “And that weird Jesus magnet where he has a chefs hat and it says ‘fish and bread are served’ underneath him?”

“Yeah, I think her dad superglued that to the fridge because no matter how many times we’ve tried to get it off it won’t budge. Plus it’s a reference to another Bible passage.”

“I went to a Catholic high school, remember? I already knew that.” You can’t help but return the smile he was sending your way, this time your eyes flicking down to his lips, you unsure if his were doing the same. You snap out of it, biting your lip and making eye contact with Matthew, both of you breathing slightly unevenly at just thinking about what you could do with each other. Was Evelina right that you two loved each other?

No, she couldn’t be right, because you didn’t love him. You pick your computer back up to get back to work, not saying another word as Matthew turned back to the TV. You hit a deadend, finding yourself back to staring at Matthew’s perfect face while his eyes narrowed and a small smirk formed on his lips at something funny on whatever movie or show he was watching.

“Ugh, fuck,” you groan, Matthew’s head snapping to your direction as you cover your face with your hands. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

He reaches over and pulls your hands from your face, intertwining his fingers in yours. “Take a break, I brought food for us.”

“You didn’t cook it yourself, did you?” you ask. The last time he had made food for you, you were sick for a week from what you’re sure was food poisoning from something being undercooked.

He laughs, the pad of his thumb rubbing your palms. You could feel your breathing get shallow by this, trying to ignore it while he’s talking to you. “No, I got it from the store down the road, already made. Mac and Cheese!” he says, pulling it out of the bag.

You roll your eyes at his stupidity. “Matthew, we’ve been sitting here for over two hours, why would you leave that on the table instead of in the fridge?”

“It’s still warm!” he argues, opening it, “Oh and it smells so bad.” You burst out laughing as he cringes, closing it immediately. “I’ll order something else.”

You get up to go throw out the now rancid mac and cheese in the kitchen. “Hey, where do you want to order from?” you hear Matthew call, walking into the kitchen behind you.

The list.

It’s on the fridge.

Practically throwing yourself at it to try to tear it down in time, you rip it off the fridge and fold it up in your hand just in time for Matthew to come in. “Are you ok?” he asks you, noticing your slightly faster breathing and your hands behind your back.

“Yeah, the smell was just bad,” you lie to him, shoving the list in the band of your shorts. “And I was looking at the Jesus magnet.”

“That thing is so creepy,” he says, both of you looking at it. Knowing Matthew, you try as discreetly as possible to move the paper to your front so he can’t feel it as he inevitably presses his front to your back, his arms draping over your shoulders. Without thinking, you reach up to touch his hands as he rests his head on yours. “It’s way too white to be Jesus.”

His arms move their way down your body, settling around your waist as he starts to nibble at your ear. “God, you are so sexy,” you hear him let out.

“You’re awfully handsy lately, aren’t you Matty?”

“Oh come on,” he says, turning you around to face him, practically pinning you against the fridge, “You know we’re always like this with each other.”

You smile at him, cupping his face in your hands as you run the pads of your thumbs along his cheeks. “We have a weird...” you start, trying to figure out the right word to describe whatever it was you had with him, “friendship,” you settle on, not exactly liking the word yourself as your tried to hide the cringe you were sure was appearing on your face.

He swallows hard at that word. Even relationship would have been better, even if it were more broad than ‘friendship.’ At least it wasn’t such a narrow word. It felt like even if you didn’t finish the list you didn’t know he knew about, you would never see him as more than a friend. “Well, that’s what makes it my favorite friendship.”

The two of you stand there for a minute, holding each other and gazing into the others eyes. You could feel your breathing slow down studying Matthew’s facial features again, thinking only of how perfect they looked to you in that moment. “We should figure out where we’re getting food from,” you say, dragging your hands down his chest before dropping him all together.

He could have stared at you like that forever. He really couldn’t think of anyone more perfect than you, anyone he would want to look at besides you. “What are you in the mood for?” he asks, moving over to the counter. Opening your fridge, you remember you still have the list folded in the band of your shorts, throwing it in before grabbing some water out. “What did you just throw in there?” Matthew asked you, having watched your every move.

“Uh, Evelina and I have this weird list that we’re putting together, it didn’t feel right to have Jesus looking over it all of a sudden,” you tell him, “But now that you had mac and cheese on my mind, I kind of want that.”

“Oh, no, you’re not changing the subject that easily,” he says, trying to reach around you to open the fridge.

“No, come on, it’s mostly Evelina’s and I don’t know if she would want you seeing it,” you lie, batting your eyes at him and trying to contort your face to make it look like you would cry if he tried anything else. He couldn’t see the list of things you hate about it. He couldn’t find out about it.

He sighs, knowing he wasn’t going to win this one. “I ordered you mac and cheese but I’ll pay for it if you tell me the subject of the list?” he tries to bargain.

“Uh, it’s a list of kinks,” you lie, not knowing what else to say, and usure why that was the first thing that came to mind.

His eyes go wide, pretending to be shocked. It was the list of ten things you hate about him. It had to be. He grins anyway, trying to hide the pain he felt knowing that the list was already started, and probably nearly finished at this point, “Are any of them your kinks?”

“Yeah,” you start to lie to him again, a grin on your face, “One of them says, ‘When Matthew leaves me alone.’”

He scrunches up his face, pretending to be hurt by your comment as he walks back to your living room. “Oh you know just how to break my heart, pretty girl.” You follow him, plopping down next to him on your couch.

You pick up your computer, snuggling into his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. “I have no desire to do this project.”

“Why don’t we watch something on TV then and you can work again after we eat?” he suggests. You nod, putting the computer back down, surrendering to his pout. You feel him kiss the top of your head, scrolling through the channels. “What about Lilo and Stitch?” he asks when he finds it on one of the channels.

“Ugh, I love this movie, but the American treatment of Hawaiians is awful, and I just can’t help but think about it every time I watch,” you say, thinking you were being annoying. “Sorry,” you apologize. Evelina was used to your rants, even if you were sure she normally tuned them out. You didn’t think Matthew wanted to listen to another rant from you.

“Don’t get me started?” he asks, referring to the game you and the guys played at the bar.

“Don’t get me started on the American colonization of Hawaii. The Cookes’ went to Hawaii and pretty much obliterated the royal bloodline. The king of Hawaii had the Cookes build boarding schools for the royal children, with good intentions that they would be able to educate his children on royal customs to effectively rule their land. Instead, the Cookes took the Hawaiian customs and told them they were wrong, imparting their own customs on them, instead. They wanted he land for America, they wanted to eliminate the Hawaiian culture and make them as American as possible,” you say. “The Hawaiian people were a very sex positive people, but oh no, American Catholic education and their ‘no sex is the safest sex’ ideal stopped the children from living the lives they grew up expected to live. If a boy was found in a girls room doing anything in these boarding schools, they would beat the children as punishment, and probably other things that weren't even recorded. There are actually a decent number of Wikipedia pages that have had this information erased, like when you go back into the edit history. The sources, as they claimed, weren’t valid, but in reality they weren’t the Cookes’ American-centric description of these schools. They even went so far as introducing sports into the schools as ‘an antidote to the worst evil of all: sexual promiscuity,’” you comment, drawing a laugh from Matthew. “Because we all know how much athletes hate sex, right?”

You look up at Matthew, him beaming down at you as Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride starts ironically playing in the background, “Yeah, we hate that,” he whispers. You swallow hard, trying to ignore any feelings that might be coming up at the sight of Matthew biting his bottom lip.

“American’s always just insert themselves where they don’t belong,” you finish, settling your head back onto his shoulder as he pulls you closer to him.

“Why do you know all of this?” he asks.

You shrug, not really sure how to answer, “I don’t know. When I’m doing work I see one word and it sends my mind into this never ending tangent and I end up looking up stuff online and reading for hours.”

“You really are the smartest person I know,” he says with a sigh, “Why hasn’t Ev told her parents about hiding the Catholic stuff until they come?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. I never asked, she just told me it was something she needed to do, so I did it with her. That’s her own cross to bear,” you say, taking a minute to realize the really bad pun you just made. “Ah! See what I did there!” you practically yell, Matthew groaning.

“On that note, I think I need to leave,” he jokes, getting up off the couch.

“Oh, come on, no!” you beg, taking him by the hand and trying to drag him back down to the couch. “I don’t want you to leave,” you let out as he pulls you off the couch.

“Really?” he asks you, sitting back down on the couch, your hands still connected.

Standing over him you nod as he pulls you into his lap, straddling him. He pulls you as close to him as you can, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Your mind flashes back to the liquor store, the feeling that came over you as he worked his way along your body like you had a feeling he was about to do again.

“Come on Matthew, you know this isn’t something we do,” you tease, even though you can’t help but look at his lips, the urge to kiss him creeping up on you as you tried desperately to suppress it. If any guy had taken you into his lap like Matthew just did, you would want to do the same thing. You were just desperate for a man, not desperate for Matthew.

“We can’t do anything?” he teases, going for your neck again. You let out a moan, praying that he doesn’t leave any more marks that you’ll have to cover up later.

“Wait,” you say to him, pulling him off of you. He looks slightly upset, not sure what to do next. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ you think to yourself, pulling his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side and returning the favor of the hickey he gave you. You suck on his skin, listening to the moans that escaped from his lips this time, feeling him grow hard the longer you were at it. He clenches his hands on your butt, pulling you even closer to him. You work your way up his neck and to his jaw, his grip getting tighter the closer you were to his lips. You had no idea what was coming over you and causing you to want to do this, but nothing in that moment felt better. Nothing in your life had ever felt better as you kissed his face the way he did to you the other day, hearing him moan more and more with every connection you made.

Your lips are millimeters from his, both of you practically begging the other for connection when you’re startled by the sound of Matthew’s phone ringing. You both laugh, foreheads pressed together. One more second and it would have happened. “I think that means our food is here.”

“Perfect fucking timing,” he mutters, not loud enough for you to hear as you get up to go grab the food. He couldn’t believe you just did that. He checks his neck in his phone camera, seeing it littered with the red marks you had left for him. He reaches up to touch them, smiling for some reason. There’s no way this list would work against him, would it?

You come back, him practically throwing his phone so you don’t see what he’s doing, settling down on the couch with each other eating the food. Your mind starts racing with thoughts about what just happened. There was no way you really wanted that, did you? Well, you wanted a man’s touch, but it didn’t necessarily have to be Matthew. It could be any guy.

‘I have another thing for the list,’ you text Evelina, your eyes moving between your phone screen and his hands holding his food, careful not to look up at his face.

‘Good, god, what?’

‘I hate the way he stares,’ you send her, finally looking up, not taking your eyes off Matthew as the two of you can’t help but stare at each other.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines #flames #flames imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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serowotonin · 3 years

Text

˗ˏˋ 𝗴𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 ˎˊ˗

✰ PAIRING ( terushima yuuji x fem!reader ) ✰ WORDCOUNT ( 1.9k ) ✰ GENRE ( ansgt, songfic ) ✰ WARNINGS ( um one swear word, angst, implications of de*th )

all the memories that we make will never change we'll stay drunk, we'll stay tan, let the love remain and I swear that I'll always paint you golden days ♫ panic! at the disco

✰✰ NOTE.. so uH i think this is the first angst thing i wrote that im actually happy with and i know terushima isn’t someone a lot of ppl write for so to the few ppl who see this</3 hope u guys enjoy:”)

“Ughh where is it,” Terushima grumbled to himself as he pulled open drawer after drawer. He had searched all the cabinets, all the tables, and just about every inch of his apartment but has yet to find his phone charger.

As he closed the second to last drawer on this shelf, which held no phone charger, he pulled out his phone and saw it had 1% battery remaining. Quickly, he unlocked it and went to his contacts. Before he could make a call though, the screen turned black and he was left staring at a faint reflection of himself.

“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath. “She’s gonna get upset again.”

He clutched the now dead phone in one hand and ran the other through his hair, sighing in exhaustion. Today had been tiring enough with work and now he had this to deal with.

There was still one more drawer he hadn’t checked though. So, he lifted his hand out of his hair and pulled it wide open.

In it sat a small box.

He knew of its contents the moment he laid eyes on it. He also knew opening it now would only make him feel worse, not to mention, it would definitely delay his plans.

But for some reason, a longing for nostalgia or maybe the person that brought such nostalgia, his arms unconsciously moved to take the box into his hands.

Your words echoed in the back of his mind as he traced his fingers along the edges of the box.

“It’ll be like our little time capsule. For us to open when we’re all old and wrinkly…”

A deep sigh escaped his lips.

Every rational thought that came into his head begged him not to open it, to put it back, to forget he even found it.

Instead, his fingers moved to lift the cover and lay it down on the floor beside him.

And there you were... a polaroid of you at least.

Your lips were curved in a sweet smile inviting him in and breaking his heart all over again. Up until now, he could barely recall what your face looked like when you were happy, truly happy. He could only remember the tears and regret you had on your face towards the end…

But seeing you like this again, the wideness of your smile, the crinkle of your eyes… you radiated a joy and happiness he had begun to forget in you.

He stared at the picture for a good minute before turning it around to see the familiar strokes of your handwriting.

‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!’ and under it ‘(first pic taken with the polaroid my baby Yuuji got for me<3)’

“My baby Yuuji,” he whispered.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you,” he sang softly into your ear as he held you from behind, swaying gently in tune.

“Happy birthday dear Y/n.. Happy birthday to you~”

You turned to kiss the blond and he pulled you even closer to him.

“I love you babe, happy birthday...”

The tiredness he had felt just moments ago seemed to have fluttered away when he found you again in the polaroids, and a longing burst from the depths as he put the picture down and picked up another one, his hands once again moving on their own will.

This one had the two of you standing together, backs facing the camera. It was taken at a beach when the sun was still high in the sky and the water glistened blue. But it wasn’t the scenery that appealed to him, nor was it the way the sun wrapped around you two in perfect golden light.

It was how close you were to him. The physical distance between you two was barely existent. Your arms were wrapped around his waist and his were draped over your shoulders.

‘Sea breeze, cute outfit, sand between my toes, and 1 Terushima Yuuji… Damn was today great.’

How he would give to be that close to you again.

“Ok 3, 2, 1…”

You clung on to him as tight as you could and he smiled, pulling you closer.

At the sound of the camera click and the hum of the photo being printed, you let go and quickly turned around to thank the woman for taking the picture.

When you did that he felt off; as if a part of his body was just yanked away. It wasn’t an extreme feeling, nor was it painful in any way. It was more just a lingering emptiness that was put to rest a few seconds later when you were back by his side again.

He put his arm back on your shoulder and peered down at the polaroid in your hand. You were staring at the photo patiently waiting for the colors to fade in. And when it finally did, you smiled satisfactorily at it before tucking it away and flashing another smile to the man right next to you.

Terushima closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to clear his mind. It’s been years, he shouldn’t be dwelling on the past like this.

And yet, there was comfort in the pain the memories brought.

When he opened his eyes, they landed on yet another photo of you. And as he has been for a good part of his life, he was drawn to you. Reaching out a hand, he picked it up and let the memories wash over him once more.

After a while, he set it down and picked up another. And another. And another. Each capturing a moment with you he would never get back.

It’s been years since he’s had to learn to live without you. Truthfully though, he never did learn how. The sun became a little dimmer, the rain a little harder, the breeze a little less refreshing. The world lost its vibrancy when he lost you. He adapted, got used to the dullness, but he couldn’t learn to live the same anymore...

He picked up another polaroid.

This one didn’t have either of your faces on it. It just showed the two of you holding hands against a dark background.

The bottom held no words but instead an arrow pointing to the right. Terushima turned the polaroid and saw a small envelope attached to the back. Curious, he opened it up and pulled out the piece of paper snuggled inside.

‘This one’s a bit longer than any other note I’ve written for a polaroid but… I kinda just realized smth really important. He drove me out at 3AM in the morning to get food because I said I was hungry. Then we sat in his car listening to some old mixtapes he had. They were pretty crappy but it didn’t matter. I love Terushima Yuuji. I’ve said it a million times before but last night it really hit me, hard. I love him in a way I’d never be able to love anyone else.

I want to go on more dates with him. more stupid dates, more romantic ones, more 3AM dates, more cuddle dates. And even though it might be selfish of me, I want to spend my every breathing minute with him.

If I can’t have anything else in this then I just want these golden days of ours to last forever..’

And before he realized it, tears were rolling down his cheeks. Fuck it all. He missed you. He missed the days you had together, the nights spent in each others’ arms. He missed you so much it tore a hole in his heart and all he could see when he looked at the sunlight drifting through the window was just darkness.

It pained him to know that everything you wanted was all he ever needed. It pained him that he hadn’t realized this until it was too late. And it pained him most that you were never coming back.

Why’d you have to leave?

He tried so hard to stop asking this question, and for a while, he was successful. But the polaroids, your handwriting, the memories, you.. there was just so much pain in the happiness of the past.

But you were gone. He had accepted that long ago.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Terushima, you in here?” a familiar voice called from outside.

Right, he forgot about Misaki. Wiping any tears left on his face, he put all the polaroids back in the box, covered the lid, and left the room.

“DADDY!!” a little girl yelled, running at him full speed. He bent down and lifted her into his arms effortlessly.

“Oh you’ve gotten heavier. How much has Misaki been feeding you huh?” he teased.

The little girl pouted as she pointed to the floor signaling she wanted to be put down. Terushima chuckled and did so.

Walking over to a slightly annoyed-looking Misaki, he muttered an apology for not going to pick her up and a thanks for taking care of his daughter.

“Hey wait, you look like you’ve been crying… Are you ok Teru?” she asked, eyes showing her concern.

He let out a deep sigh.

“I uh- I found a box with some old pictures of Y/n and I just-”

She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Look, I know you miss her and I know you know this, but don’t get too stuck in the past. Focus on what you have now,” she said looking in the direction of the young girl who had made her way over to the small pile of stuffed animals on the couch.

He rubbed his face and nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, thank you Misaki.”

“Ok,” she replied with a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be going then.”

Terushima nodded again and after she said bye to his daughter, he walked her to the door.

Turning back he leaned on the wall and looked affectionately at the girl playing on his couch. She was still so young, but it’s been almost 5 years now that he’s taken care of her.

Time seemed to fly by with her and yet it felt like so long ago he welcomed her to the world.

He understood now the past and its memories were something to be treasured. It was not something to cling on tightly though. The golden days of the past are gone, but the glittering rays that coated the floor and walls of his living room tell him it’s a new age.

It was an age he had to cherish well.

Deciding to do something he’s been putting off, he walked back into his room and brought out the box with all its polaroids and memories.

“Yui, come here. I want to show you something.”

She stared at him before taking one frayed teddy bear into her hands and walking over to her father. Taking his outreached hand, she looked at the box he held in his other.

Sitting at the top of the pile was a photo of a beautiful woman. The sun was shining bright in the background and the light swirled around her as if she was wrapped in a golden halo.

“Is she an angel?” Yui asked innocently, pointing to the picture.

“You got that right,” he replied with a sad smile. “She’s the most beautiful angel out there..”

He watched as the young girl picked up the photo, seemingly mesmerized.

“That angel is your mom.”

“My mom?” she echoed. “Mommy is an angel?”

He smiled and ruffled her hair, “She sure is, and you know what? She’s looking out for us from heaven, so you better be a good girl for her, okay?”

✰✰ NOTE.. pls lemme know if u guys thought this was angsty enough sdkjlsdg,,,, i dunno i can’t seem to tell whether angst is painful enough yet;-; also don’t mind the name yui dkglsd it was the first one i could think of T-T

✰✰✰ TAGLIST.. @lilikags @luna-in-luv @kureyama

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silma-words · 3 years

Text

The Climb

Choices: Bloodbound

Pairing: Adrian Raines x MC (Ellie)

Rating: Mature (NSFW, 18+)

Genre: Fluffy smut (I’ve decided it’s a thing now)

AU Chronology: Bloodbound AU (after book 1 – the events of book 2 never happened) – ‘Inevitable - Arc I: Before we part’ (Masterlist) – Right after book 1 (beginning of their relationship)

Summary: Intimacy is not only about trusting the other, it’s also about learning how to trust yourself and let go….

N/A: So this was absolutely self-indulging writing, that does not necessarily have any relevance to my intended storyline. But I really wanted to write a little about female pleasure and the never ending quest for the big Os, and how it is not necessarily easy for women to be entirely at ease with their own body and pleasure, and to know exactly what they need. I hope it won't be too awkward to read! 😊

Words: 3700

**Disclaimer: Characters and background plot are the property of Pixelberry.**

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

The climb

There was something comforting about the weight of him above her. Something reassuring about the soft hum of his breath on her neck. But something terrifying about the way she could feel her mind slowly drift away each time this delicious but unfamiliar feeling began to spread throughout her body.

She was mesmerized by the softness of his lips on her skin, by the firmness of his grip on her tights, and by the adoring gleam in his eyes every time he looked down at her. But she was also equally terrified of that invisible wave that seemed to rise from the pit of her stomach as he moved above her, threatening to crash over her with each passing second and each one of his thrust.

Ellie and Adrian had shared their bed a few times before, and she had been amazed by how she had instantly felt at ease in his arms. She had little experience before him, and had always been a little nervous to reveal herself in that way, but somehow, with him, she had never felt the level of self-consciousness that had pulled her down many times in the past. And yet, she was still terrified to let go.

Terrified of these sensations that were making her head spin and sink heavily against the pillows.

Terrified of the air escaping her windpipes with every surge of pleasure, making her gasp with the fear that it might never return to her lungs in time before the next wave would threaten to pull her under.

Terrified of the weight of her eyelids, refusing to lift when she was dying to keep her eyes open to find an anchor in Adrian’s hazy gaze.

This was all too terrifying, and she could feel her limbs shake with the intensity of her terror despite the soothing words that Adrian was whispering in her ears.

Adrian was taking his time. Smoothing her skin with his palms, pressing kisses on her neck, her chin, her jaw, and her hair. Nudging his nose in the space beneath her ear, muttering her name softly to make sure that she knew that there was no one else but her and him in the room, in this moment, and that nothing else going around the world mattered. That he had all the time in the world for her, that he was in no hurry.

He wanted to give her all. Everything he had. Everything he knew. But she would not let him.

He could feel her trembling against him, her brow furrowed in concentration as she was struggling to take in the sensations that were washing over her. And as much as he could tell how much pleasure she was feeling every time they had shared this precious intimacy together, he could tell that Ellie had been holding on each time. That she had been scared of letting herself go every single time. He could tell from the way she felt underneath him and from the sounds she made, even before she would hush him to slow down when it became too much for her.

Of course he did not want to pressure her, to push her beyond her limits, and at first he had been worried that he had been hurting her somehow, or asking too much of her in his desperation to be close to her as much as they could physically be. But now that he knew her better, after he had carefully studied her features, her breaths, and the tales of her skin every time he had held her naked body against his, he could tell that her fear and restraint had nothing to do with pain or discomfort. He had been on this earth for so long, sharing his bed countless times over the centuries, that he had not realised that part of what they shared could be entirely knew to her. She was scared of the unknown, scared of emotions she could not control. And he was determined to find a way to help her let go of these fears.

She was mentally cursing at herself. She wanted nothing more but to abandon herself in the heat of him, to trust Adrian with her body the same way she had trusted him with her life right after they had met just over a month before. But she could not stop the stupid gears from turning in her head.

One minute she would feel drunk from his touch, from his kisses, and from the delicious slide of his body against hers, and the other, she would just feel her breath catch in her throat and her heart jolt in her chest, as if waking up from a dream where she was free-falling from high above. She would grip his shoulders and wrap her lips against his collarbone to find purchase in the familiar taste and smell of him, but it would always take her desperately-long minutes to allow herself to be lulled back into comfort by the rocking of their joined bodies. It was driving her mad. But she was so scared. So. Scared.

And the more she acknowledged how irrational that fear was, the more she could feel it having a hold on her.

The first time she had felt like this with Adrian, she simply thought her mind was going to short-circuit. Their embrace had been so intense, the feel of his skin against hers so exhilarating, and the synchrony of their movements so perfect, that she had just felt suddenly overwhelmed by the scorching heat building inside her, as if it would burn her from the inside if she did not let her body cool down immediately. After that, she had kept trying to push against this irrational fear of this torturous pressure inside her, but could not ignore the way her brain did not seem to be able to identify whether that maddening sensation was pain or pleasure. It always seemed to teeter right on the edge between the two, and she could not convince her body to ignore the warning signals that her brain was sending so that she could be brave enough, at least one time, to see whether her lungs would scream out of pain or out of delight if she let the heat consume her.

And with each time she let her apprehension drag her away from the reality of Adrian’s loving embrace, from his heated caresses and from his breathless kisses, she could tell the fear was gaining ground.

And after that, Fear came with its most trusted soldiers: shame and anger. Ellie was trying her best to fight them off every time she could see them advance on her, but she seemed to be powerless against them as time went by. She was angry at herself for not being able to take the leap she desperately needed. And she was ashamed of not being able to control her own body, to understand it enough to be able to receive was Adrian was desperate to give her.

He was so sweet to her. So tender, so attentive, and so careful. She had never ever hoped to be touched and kissed the way Adrian did, nor hoped to hear her name whispered in adoration the way this selfless man did. She wanted nothing else but to yield to the liquid heat that was boiling in her limbs, and let Adrian carry her over the edge towards the unknown. She wanted to give herself to him entirely, let him see her bare in a way that no one had ever had. But every time she got close to that edge, she felt the tight grip of her conscious mind pulling her away from it, anchoring her down, making her aware of how exposed and vulnerable she was before him, resentment following straight after when realising how frustrating it must be for him to see her body refuse to trust his all the way.

“Look at me, Ellie”.

His voice was just a whisper in her ear, barely audible over the sounds of ruffling sheets and of her ragged breaths, but loud enough to pull her once more out of her head, back to him. Back to them.

She could not help but to smile sheepishly when her eyes met his, feeling her cheeks flush under his gaze, fully aware that Adrian had noticed when her restless brain had taken over. Pushing her forehead up to rest against his and closing her eyes in an attempt to hide the embarrassment that was starting to crawl over her, it startled her a little when his body shifted against her, his arms slipping around her torso to cradle her close as he lifted her smoothly from the mattress, bringing her thighs to rest on the top of his while he sat on his heels, knees sinking into the bed.

Somehow, their bodies had stayed in contact entirely, although he was not moving against her anymore. Instead, he started tracing slowly the lines of her jaw and of her cheek with the tip of his nose, bringing his hands to cup her face softly and gently make her look at him.

“It’s ok, Ellie. It’s just us.” His voice was low and soft, like a fantom caress she wanted to lean into. “There is nowhere else we need to be. Nowhere else I’d rather be. We’ve got all the time we want.”

Ellie had no idea how to respond, nor even if he was expecting her to. She simply nodded, letting the calm in his eyes appease her rattling heart as she was trying to clear her mind and focus her attention on him.

He pressed the slowest, softest, and gentlest kiss on her wet lips, before pulling away to capture her gaze once more. “There is no pressure here, Ellie. Just us. Just this. Right now”.

He kissed her once again, this time for a little longer, and with a little more weight to his lips. “I just want this to feel good for you. That is all.” Pressing his nose against hers, he muttered one last time: “I just want you to feel good”.

This time when she nodded silently, there was more truth in her eyes than when she had blindly nodded just a moment before.

When he returned his lips to hers, she responded immediately by letting her eyes close and her throat hum in surrender, opening her mouth to let him in, hoping she might be able to taste the remnants of his comforting words onto his tongue.

She felt shielded, protected by the feel of his arms brushing against hers as his hands started roaming along her back. His fingers were spread, his palms warm and sweaty, gliding along her spine as if counting and blessing each one of her back bones.

When she wrapped her arms more firmly around his shoulders, his kisses became suddenly more urgent, making her moan and writhe against him, sending her hips back and forward instinctively, making them both gasp at the suddenly renewed friction between them.

The groan he made and the hunger in his eyes were all she needed to send her self-conscious mind tumbling in the back on her head for now. She let her hips do all the work for her, tightening her grip against his thighs, barely aware of the gentle pressure of Adrian’s hand in her back that was guiding the slithering movement of her hips.

Raising herself higher and higher above him as she went, she was relishing the heat and sounds rushing out of his open mouth against her skin, right where he had buried his head in the crook of her neck. It was a weird sensation for her, with him so close but yet out of her direct sight, as if she were alone and with him at the same time, in two different parallel universes. As if to make sure he was really there while she arched and lifted herself above him, she moved her hands so that she could tangle her fingers into his hair, alternatively pulling and pressing his face away and against her pulsing point, not sure whether she needed him there or back against her parted lips. She was now completely driving the motion, Adrian’s arms only encapsulating her torso to keep her steady.

She could feel her pleasure climbing, climbing, climbing... the now more familiar pressure building inside her from the repeated friction of their joined bodies and from his skin burning against hers where she needed it the most. It felt like something was twisting in her guts, like a coil tightening with each movement, and threatening to snap at any moment. Feeling her limbs starting to tremble, her eyes suddenly shot open, desperately searching for Adrian’s, silently pleading for something that she was not sure to be able to voice.

When their eyes finally met as she tugged on his hair to bring his face against hers, she immediately found there the anchor that she was searching for. The reassurance and awe that she was craving for and that he knew she needed.

“It’s ok, it’s ok”, he hushed against her lips, letting his voice and the reassuring warmth of his heat wrap around her.

But the coils were still threatening to snap, and she could not help but to feel the panic surge through her once more, moving her head slightly from side to side as her throat finally allowed a few weak words to break free. “I can’t.... I can’t...It’s...”.

But he swallowed her words with the soft press of his mouth, urging her with his eyes to trust him.

But those coils... those coils... it felt like those were going to rip through her and blast her heart open. “I can’t...” she pleaded again, her voice rasped and breaking. “I need you... I need you to...”.

Bringing one of his hands to her face, he pressed his forehead against hers, never tearing his eyes away from her teary gaze: “What do you need me to do, love?”.

Aching and gasping, she finally collected enough air to force her last plea through her lungs, fighting the echo of her self-conscious mind trying to tell her otherwise. “I need you to do it... to get me there... I can’t...”.

And that was all Adrian needed to hear.

Collecting her in his arms as he had done mere minutes before, he let her wrap her legs around his hips before raising from his knees to gently move them back onto the mattress, the coolness of the bedsheets sending oddly comforting shivers down her spine as she felt her body sink into the bed under Adrian’s weight.

He did not allow her mind to wander into dangerous territory for even a second. His mouth was on hers and his hands were roaming along her sides and between her breasts in an interrupted dance, leaving no chance for fear, or anger, or shame, to settle back into her mind.

He was pressing in and out of her relentlessly, slowly at first, making sure that her eyes remained on him, watching closely for the signs that would show him that he was doing this right. That he was applying the right amount of pressure where she needed. That he was letting her time to adjust gradually to the length of him, carefully adjusting her shivering legs around him to make sure this felt as right for her as it felt for him.

His gaze was anchoring her in reality, although she felt her body slowly resume its climb, pleasure starting to build once more from every point of contact between their bodies, pushing her gradually higher and higher towards this terrifying edge like a dozen of flickering hands urging her forward.

Her grip in his hair was slippery, from his sweat as much as from hers, but she was refusing to let go.

As she arched her back beneath him unconsciously, he took the opportunity to shift a little above her and tilt her hips slightly, tearing a sudden cry of pleasure from her throat as one of his hand lifted her leg higher against his hip, reaching the point of no return where she felt him right where she needed him.

He knew he could not stop now, knowing that he had gotten her further than ever before, and that she had pleaded for him earlier to get her beyond that threshold that she had never managed to cross. He felt burdened with that purpose, but yet could not help but to want to yield the way he had many times before when facing the shear weight of her teary eyes, the shakes of her limbs against his hold, and the thundering of her heartbeat ringing in his ears. But at the same time, the noises she made were driving him crazy, and he could tell from the slick wetness of her core that he could give her what she needed, right now. She just needed a little more from him so that she could let go.

Lurching forward to bury himself deeper within her, he swallowed her uncontrolled shriek of pleasure with his open mouth, trailing his lips all over her chin and her neck while increasing his pace gradually, whispering encouragements to her skin to keep her from drifting to that space that could pull her down too fast.

“You feel so good Ellie... Does it feel good for you?”

Although she could register his words, she could not formulate any articulate response other than biting her lip to muffle her moans, in an attempt to keep any bit of control that she had left.

That climb never seem to want to end, making her believe that she would surely see the edge in sight at any second, but the more she climbed the furthest she seemed to get from it. How much longer would she have to keep on going? She could not trust her limbs to carry her further anymore.

But he was here. Right with her. His breath against her lips acting like a reassuring hand pushing in the small of her back, securing her until she could see this edge. She was aware of each of his thrust and each of his groans, the slide of his skin against her reminding her that he was here for her. There. Right now. Ready to take that leap with her right by her side.

And there she finally saw it. The edge. The terrifying end of that climb that suddenly reminded her vividly what she had been so afraid of.

She felt her body being slowly dragged towards it, as if pulled by invisible strings to force her to gaze into the dark abyss of the unknown below. Would it hurt? Would it just feel like being freed? And what would be waiting for her down below? The darkness beyond that edge did not even seem to have an end to it. And it was calling for her.

She was right there. So close. Teetering right on the edge. Gaping at the abyss alone, but somehow reaching for Adrian blindly to make sure he would not let her take that leap alone. That dread and the overwhelming sensations in her limbs and her core were making her lungs ache with every breath she took.

“Adrian...I...” she barely managed to mumble, her fingers slipping desperately in his hair as she was trying to bring his mouth to hers.

“It’s ok, love”, he whispered hoarsely against her lips, finding her eyes to bring her the reassurance that he knew she was begging of him. “You’re there... right there... just let go...”

Holding her breath for a few seconds, she finally closed her eyes to allow her body to yield to his command, letting her weak limbs dive from the edge.

The coil that had been twisting, and twisting, and twisting inside her finally snapped, releasing throughout her limbs that liquid heat that had been simmering in her core over the course of her endless climb.

His face. His voice. The scent of his sweat and of his skin. She let it all fill her mind as she came apart beneath him, reaping sounds from her that seemed nearly alien to her ears. She was gasping for air as she felt her entire being clench around him, pulling him against her more tightly that she had ever held onto anyone or anything before. Her lungs were burning, the moans escaping her shaking lips seeming to be as uncontrollable as the way her legs and her hips trembled against Adrian’s boiling skin.

Smiling against her lips, Adrian did his best to hold on as long as he could to help her descend from her high, marvelling at the sight of her features slowly relaxing in awe, any traces of apprehension now completely wiped from her perfect skin.

But the way her hips kept bucking with each of his thrust, and the mesmerizing sound of her voice whimpering his name against his skin, were enough to send him tumbling over the edge as well, arching between her legs and gripping her hip more tightly as he came undone with a growl.

Too weak to resist her pull any longer, he let his body collapse on top of hers, pressing a few soft, lazy kisses onto her mouth between jagged breaths, before sliding a little down her body to rest his head on her chest, taking in the full blast of her thumping heartbeat, the shivers that were coursing across her skin, and the sweet hum escaping her throat as she was gradually relaxing completely underneath him, absentmindedly massaging his scalp.

He did not need to see her face to know that she was smiling, grateful for everything he had given her just a moment before. He did not need to see it because he knew the same smile was now plastered on his face, as he was so grateful to her for trusting him enough to bring her there, and for taking that leap towards the unknown with him.

~~~

Thank you for reading! 🙂

If you liked it, any comment and/or reblog/PM would mean a lot to me! (just to know if I need to stop writing all the random things that pop into my head! 😅)

Tagging @adriansbiss , @itsjustwinter , @shanzay44 , @purvishraick, @thefrenchiemama

@choicesficwriterscreations

#bloodbound #bloodbound choices #adrian raines #adrian raines x mc #bloodbound fanfiction #choices fanfiction #play choices #choices stories you play #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #adrian x ellie

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

and the stars (they all aligned)

Fandom: Sex Education Pairing: Ola Nyman/Lily Iglehart Rating: E Word Count: 3887

Summary: Ola knows there's more to outer space than aliens with penis-fingers, and from their spot on the hill, gazing up at the night sky with Lily, it's never felt closer. They've never felt closer.

“Life can get small, you know?” Ola says sadly. The gravity inside her body still feels a little off, like her heart’s bobbing around, unsure whether to float or land. She’s sad, she’s elated, she’s aching for her mum, she’s grateful to have her girlfriend next to her on the grass.

“Like when I stopped writing my stories,” Lily suggests, frowning thoughtfully under her silvery makeup.

“Yeah. But the stars are so beautiful out here. I feel like, if I laid down and just looked straight up… blocked out the people and the lights from the houses… I could see really far into space.”

“You are seeing far into space, with some of these.” Lily points a pale, precise finger up above them. “The light’s coming from such a long way away that you’re basically traveling in time. And that’s real,” she quickly emphasizes, “not science fiction.”

Ola smiles widely.

“Cool.”

The other spectators are beginning to walk back to their cars and homes, but Lily and Ola lie back on the plaid blanket. Lily’s arm pulls her gently closer until Ola’s resting her head on her girlfriend’s chest. Just when it seems that the star shower has ended, another lone light flies past.

“They’re meteors, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Lily says, but Ola can tell she’s held something back.

“If you want to say what you imagine them to be,” she prompts, “I’m here to listen.”

“Aliens,” Lily blurts, given permission, but then she adds: “Or angels.”

Ola lies very still for a minute, breathing, feeling the plasticky pink stripes on her girlfriend’s outfit pull on her cheek a little when she repositions her head.

“Angels?”

“Well, this was your mum’s favourite place,” Lily says, straightforward and unflinching, the way she explains everything that can’t possibly be real. “So maybe angels. Cosmic angels who ice skate on Jupiter’s frozen moon, Europa.”

“Aww, that’s lovely.”

“And hump the rings of Saturn.”

“That’s not really how I’d like to picture my mum’s spirit.”

“Sorry,” Lily says. Ola can hear the wince in her voice and gives her waist a quick squeeze to show she isn’t upset. “The cosmic angels could also be juggling moon rocks.”

“Tanning on planets that orbit three suns.”

“Riding spiral galaxies around like a carousel!”

“And when we see shooting stars,” Ola says with a smile, “they’re surfing.”

“Yes, I think that’s right,” Lily agrees, sighing contentedly beneath her. “You know—” She taps the nape of Ola’s neck like Ola’s seen her tap her desk when she’s writing and pauses to consider the next turn her intergalactic saga will take. “—you’ve got a really good imagination.”

Delighted, Ola lifts her head and smiles at her girlfriend.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“So do I,” Lily says while Ola nods, “but maybe I use it too much? If I’d been better at living in reality, you wouldn’t have gotten sick of me.”

Ola frowns. She’s big on showing affection through physical contact and instinct tells her to brush Lily’s hair back from her face or something, but it’s too slicked down tonight, the silky length of it twirled into a magnificent pair of space buns, wound through with metallic thread. Her girlfriend is so creative, and so many beautiful things come from her brain. Ola hates that Hope, their classmates, and even her made Lily believe her ideas and the way she expresses them aren’t valuable.

“Lily. I was never sick of you.” She reaches to adjust the gleaming pleather collar of Lily’s outfit, then leans down to nuzzle her nose against Lily’s. “And I never want you to use your imagination less, or try to turn it off, or anything like that. The answer might even be to use it more.”

“More?”

“Yeah.”

Ola drops her head onto her girlfriend’s chest again, hugging into her side as a chatting couple wheel a stroller up the hill past them. She thinks of the new baby while Lily mulls over what she’s said. Joy. They’ll have to sedate her dad if they want him out of the hospital tonight while that tiny girl slumbers there. Joy will learn, when she’s older, what a good dad she had from the very beginning—watching over Joy and giving Ola, well, space. She stares up at the sparkling scatter of stars.

“Because there are other ways for us to enjoy having sex,” Lily says a few minutes later, no preamble.

Ola nods, face shushing across her girlfriend’s costume.

“We’ve done so much together already, but I’m sure there’s loads we haven’t explored.” She shrugs. “I might never have tried any sort of alien roleplay if I hadn’t met you, and you come up with new things you want to try all the time. You inspire yourself, through your writing, and I think that’s amazing.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Ola says confidently. “I do.”

“Your mom must have loved you really well,” Lily murmurs, “because you love really well too.”

Ola is a box. A clear, plastic box with a hatch where her heart is. She is an incubator, like Joy’s, housing a very fragile thing, and Lily has reached inside to cradle that thing in her careful hands. Ola sniffs and the stars smudge into a big, messy glow up above. She blinks fast as her eyes brim.

“She did.”

“I wouldn’t want to be abducted without you.”

Ola laughs wetly.

“Thanks, Lil.”

Lily speaks some more, but it’s not to her. She mumbles and traces lines up and down the sleeve of Ola’s green jacket. Ola can tell she’s thinking out loud; the words ‘pulsing’ and ‘Glenoxi’ and ‘penis-fingers’ hum in the air over their heads. She’s prepared to flip off anyone who looks at her girlfriend strangely, but the final stragglers march by in their own wild costumes, dragging signs with hopeful and blatantly sexual pleas. Huh. Some of these really are Lily’s people.

Once they’re alone on the hill, Ola sighs and rolls fully onto her back, head on Lily’s oversized round belt buckle as she lies perpendicular to her girlfriend. She kicks her legs out, feet apart, and folds her hands over her stomach. Lily’s fingers creep over and toy with her rainbow pin. Smiling at the warmth of her girlfriend’s hand through her jacket, Ola’s finally ready to do what she said before: block out everything else and look up.

The dark is comforting and lovely. When she relaxes the muscles in her face, lets her gaze go unfocused and fuzzy, all of that celestial light becomes a soft background for her thoughts and feelings. She imagines that she (and Lily, of course) are someplace else, far from this hill and the wonderful, painful complexities of their lives. Would she be able to see Earth? She supposes that she would, diving back through her memories to her childhood treehouse, the telescope her dad hauled up there for her and her sister. Ser du det, Ola? Det är planeten Venus. She’d forgotten about that clunky old telescope.

From a distance, Earth would twinkle too, reflecting the light of the sun. Magic. There are so many incredible things, Ola thinks, that are true. Facts that inspire fiction, and are in some cases more wonderful than anything most people could make up.

She rolls onto her stomach, propped up by her elbows.

“I’ve… had a thought,” Ola says, gaze sweeping up Lily’s torso to her face, where wide eyes swivel to stare back at her.

“About what?”

Ola stretches a hand out to trace her girlfriend’s upturned nose with a fingertip.

“Something we could do,” she says slyly. She brings her finger down to cover Lily’s lips and Lily bites the end with faux-ferocity.

“Here?”

Ola nods, grinning.

Eagerly, Lily sits up.

“Well, tell me,” she says.

“We’re going to go on a journey,” Ola informs her. Lily smiles reservedly, waiting for more. “And you can narrate.”

“Where are we going?”

“Space.”

Lily glances from side to side, at the hilltop that’s darker now everyone’s left with their torches and camera flashes and glow-in-the-dark clothes. Only their candle remains.

“Where are we really going?”

“Nowhere, technically,” Ola says, scrunching her nose. “We’ll do it right here.”

“Ok,” says Lily gamely. “What is it we’re doing?”

Pushing up onto her hands and knees, Ola leans forward to kiss her. It’s quick, but when it’s over and her girlfriend inhales like she’s going to ask another question, Ola kisses her again, smiling against her lips. Sometimes doing is better than explaining.

Lily’s hand raises and cups her cheek. It’s when Ola feels the other hand curl around the back of her neck and flex as Lily presses more enthusiastically into the kiss that she knows she’s got it, she’s understood. They kiss faster and Ola’s hands skitter across Lily’s belt, searching for a piece to undo until she realizes its overlapping ends Velcro together in the back, hidden by the cape. The ripping sound of the strips unfastening makes them both laugh. Ola lays the belt out on the blanket before planting one hand on her girlfriend’s far side, bracketing her as she reclines slightly onto her elbows and they continue to kiss.

Lily’s cape is designed like a vest, with holes for her arms to go through. Ola tugs at one, then accepts that she won’t be able to get it off over the massive, padded shoulder spike on Lily’s bodysuit. Not without help.

“You won’t be too cold, will you?” she checks, sitting back to allow Lily to maneuver out of her cape.

“Not yet.”

“And if I want to take this off as well?” Ola asks coyly, sliding her hands along her girlfriend’s outfit, up from the waist to knead Lily’s breasts through the quilted fabric.

Lily smiles back and tips her chin up, encouraging the deep kiss Ola sinks into, already feeling her arousal climbing with the anticipation of trying out this new idea. Maybe she should have found a way to talk to Lily about introducing some variety sooner, because it’s been a while since she felt this level of excitement for sex. She always enjoys herself, but it has been a little hard, acting out one of Lily’s fantasies after another without ever taking the lead herself. Hopefully, tonight establishes a revised balance in this area of their relationship—a fusion that’s partly Lily, partly Ola.

Locating the zipper at the back of Lily’s costume, Ola pulls back.

“This is ok, right?” she asks, because Lily never said out loud that she wouldn’t be cold.

“I think so,” her girlfriend says. She looks down. “I can snuggle into the blanket as well, don’t forget.”

Ola scans their surroundings.

“And there isn’t anyone around,” she says, grinning. Could she be into the idea of getting caught? She’s never considered it before! Not actually caught, of course, because she very much wants to keep this about the two of them, but there’s a thrill surrounding the possibility that Ola didn’t expect.

“Five, four, three, two, one,” Lily counts down. “Ignition.” She holds Ola’s gaze and lifts her eyebrows, some sort of a cue.

“Oh, got it,” Ola says, beginning to unzip the silvery bodysuit.

Arms wrapped around her girlfriend from the front, her hands slide down as she exposes Lily’s skin to the air. She can tell through the material that there isn’t anything underneath it—no lines, no ridges but her spine, her shoulder blades—so when the zipper hits the end of its track at Lily’s lower back and Lily peels the front of the outfit down, Ola isn’t surprised to be confronted with her girlfriend’s bare breasts.

The shinier segment of the costume winds up being a sort of torso-less shirt—the sleeves connecting to the high collar that encircles Lily’s neck. That part stays on as Lily wiggles and hops, getting the sleeveless bodysuit over her hips and bum, and Ola sees that the shiny leggings are separate as well.

“This is really cool,” she notes.

“Thanks,” Lily says, working the bodysuit off over her nearly-knee-high boots. “The cape…?” she wonders when she’s done.

“You can put that back on.”

“And you want me to talk?”

“Yes please. Just not about aliens,” Ola adds, watching her girlfriend’s expression cautiously for signs of hurt.

But Lily’s face is open, unoffended. She shrugs into her cape.

“Alright.”

“I mean, if you find you have anything you want to say,” Ola clarifies. She smirks as she slips her hand between Lily’s thighs, cupping her and rubbing a bit through the leggings.

“I think the ship—the normal, regular Earth spaceship,” Lily clarifies, breathing slightly unevenly, “—is monitoring a disturbance. A buildup of energy.”

“Oh?”

Ola smiles wider, then bends over her girlfriend, running her mouth along her skin below where her sleeve-top conceals her collarbones. Gradually, Lily lies back. As Ola hoped she would, Lily narrates, easily spinning a science-fiction story that’s heavy on the science for once. Ola kisses back up her throat as Lily’s high voice speaks clearly of stellar nurseries, dense with dust and gas. In spite of her flowing words and dreamy descriptions, the actual subject matter doesn’t sound that nice to Ola, until Lily announces the mission of this particular spaceship. (“Mmm?” Ola asks wordlessly, kissing below Lily’s jaw; Lily nods to acknowledge that Ola’s mouth will indeed be playing the role of the spaceship in this scenario.) It’s closing in on this cloud of stellar stuff in search of the new star that’s about to be born.

“Passing between huge planets,” Lily says, while Ola hunches hungrily over her body and kisses down between her breasts. “Gas giants. Jupiter, maybe.”

Ola nearly starts laughing when Lily confirms one of the planets to be Jupiter by the fact of ‘the ship’ spying its Great Red Spot—Ola’s focused in on Lily’s nipple, dragging it tenderly between her teeth before sucking to deepen the colour; with the blue of the night, that’s closer to purple than Lily’s normal rosy pink.

She keeps going and so does Lily, infusing every lick and tug with the richness of her imagination, as well as actual knowledge of the solar system, about which she seems to know quite a lot. For a risky, romantic hookup under no roof but the sky, it’s rather educational.

The minute Lily’s bent knees go flat as she straightens to her full length, Ola swings a leg over to hover above her. She redoubles her attention to her girlfriend’s breasts and caresses her hands swiftly up Lily’s sides. Lily shivers and Ola thinks it’s the cold getting to her after all, but when she raises her head to check in, Lily’s eyelids are drooping with pleasure. So Ola continues to touch her. And Lily continues to unravel their tale.

She recounts the rushing of a meteor shower as smoothly as if she was up there when it happened, half an hour ago. Ola matches her pace with her mouth, skimming kisses down her ribcage. Lily’s imagination turns her own bellybutton into the deep crater of a moon which the ship sets down to explore. (Lily is very kinky about her bellybutton being probed by Ola’s tongue, and Ola’s not going to leave that out, even if they are going in a different direction than usual.)

Progressing, Ola hooks her fingers into the waist of Lily’s leggings and, undistracted, Lily makes the story sound like something she’s reading out of a book—the spaceship setting a course that will take it beyond the most distant line humankind has ever drawn in the universe, farther than it’s ever been before. For Ola, touching Lily below her navel is far from uncharted territory. And yet, she’s sort of enjoying the dramatics.

Lily keeps the story fertile with details another storyteller would make dull (spaceship maintenance, the sleep schedule of the crew), but which grow like lush, otherworldly flora coming from her. The human interest side of things accompanies Ola’s descent as she strips the leggings down. Although they only get as far as the top of Lily’s boots, the leggings are stretchy enough to let her girlfriend part her knees so Ola can kiss lower.

A little lower.

Barely.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Ola says with a laugh, raising an apologetic hand to interrupt her girlfriend.

“I do think I might be cold if I take everything off completely.”

“Well… hmm…”

While Ola’s still appraising the situation, Lily’s face lights up with epiphany. Legs locked stiffly together, she raises them into the air. Ola climbs off of her to see what she’s up to.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to stay like that?” Ola questions, watching her girlfriend’s legs waver at a 45-degree angle to the ground.

“I won’t need to if you crawl underneath!”

Thank goodness Lily isn’t shy with her. Instead, it’s funny for them both when Ola moves down to lie on her stomach. Lily parts her legs enough to hook the half-lowered leggings behind Ola’s head, Ola’s face poking between her thighs. Lily lowers her legs back down until they rest on Ola’s shoulders and, basically, they’re in business. Holding happily to the top of her girlfriend’s naked thighs, Ola peruses Lily’s body admiringly before ducking her head.

“The nebula,” her girlfriend breathes, as Ola’s kisses near the soft nest of Lily’s pubic hair. The boundary’s been made unnatural by the squiggly shape Lily’s attempted to shave into it (something Ola might have called silly before her resolution of open-mindedness), and Lily uses that as fuel for the plot, making the spaceship’s journey treacherous, full of objects to navigate around. In reality, Ola pecks a straight line down to Lily’s cunt. Honestly, she’s relieved at the extra evidence—beyond Lily’s expression, her readiness to undress out-of-doors, and the quick pants that’ve become part of her breathing pattern—that Lily’s into this.

Ola wraps her arms farther around the top of Lily’s thighs until she’s able to brush her fingers between them, thumbing her girlfriend’s labia apart. Gosh, they haven’t done this in weeks, which is ages for them. The last vulva Ola saw was iced onto the top of a cupcake.

With Lily held open, Ola licks deftly between her legs with the tip of her tongue. Her girlfriend’s voice trembles. When Ola’s worked her way inward until she’s ringing just inside Lily’s vagina, Lily’s hand comes down and lands on the top of her head. She doesn’t really want it there though, isn’t being forceful. Ola understands this reaction, a common one from her girlfriend when she’s being eaten out, and frees one hand, blindly offering it up. Lily links their fingers together. Their joined hands fall next to her hip.

“Closer,” Lily gasps, arousal seeping slowly over and under Ola’s tongue. Her other hand slips down Ola’s neck and into the back of her top where she’s warm, almost sweaty, with the heat of being turned on. “They’re getting closer to the star.”

The commitment to the story, every time, is something Ola loves about her.

And so she indulges her girlfriend, sliding her tongue higher, easing a finger into Lily’s vagina to perform an unhurried in-and-out while her mouth closes in on her clitoris. Ola’s own clit is desperate for a fingering, blood pumping strongly towards her groin inside her baggy jeans, but she can wait, get Lily off first. Whenever they pleasure each other in that order, Lily always comes alive after, flipping Ola onto her back and smothering her in enthusiastic kisses and caresses.

Picturing this as the likely near-future, Ola hums blissfully against Lily’s clit (Lily squirms and lets out one of her moans that sound like a ghostly wail—yeah, Ola kind of loves those too). She closes her eyes to intensify the sensations and does the rest by familiar feel.

Her girlfriend babbles now, about the spaceship orbiting the new star that’s forming while Ola teasingly orbits her clit with her tongue. It takes a lot of effort to separate Lily from one of her stories when she’s on a roll, but broad, firm licks to her clit are enough to pull even Ola’s one-foot-in-outer-space girlfriend into the present moment.

“Oh god, Ola, I can almost see the cosmic angels,” Lily whines, striving exquisitely towards climax. “I’m going to see cosmic angels.”

Ola believes her. She believed this hill was special, she will believe in aliens, and right now she believes that Lily’s imminent orgasm looks like a flock of cosmic angels behind her eyelids. Sure. Why not? Her hand clasps harder to her girlfriend’s. She doesn’t care that Lily’s rerouted to the fantastical right at the end. They’re real. The elements that got them here are real: Lily’s storytelling, Ola’s desire to feel close to her in a world that wasn’t only Lily’s, loneliness, love.

Without speaking very loudly, Ola knows her voice will carry to her girlfriend’s ears—this evening, silver and pointed.

“Glenoxi,” she groans rapturously against Lily’s clit.

Lily’s hips buck once, then her body buckles, fingers twisting with Ola’s. Her voice rises brokenly into the night and Ola is on fire with how much she wants her.

Ola wipes her mouth on the blanket while Lily catches her breath. She quit moving her finger when her girlfriend clenched around it and came, but now she begins to hook it shallowly inside Lily’s sopping channel, coaxing her.

“You wanna again?” Ola asks, grinning between planting gentle kisses on Lily’s inner thigh.

“Yes,” Lily sighs. She twitches their joined hands. “But come up here beside me so I can take your jeans off. I want—”

There’s a snapping sound and Ola jerks her head up as much as she can in her current position. Under a hundred feet from them, someone’s standing, raising the chunky green glowstick they must’ve just found, dropped in the grass by an Eighth attendee, and cracked. The person turns, looks their way. Freezes. They won’t be able to see everything in the dark. Not everything, but enough. Ola hears a noise of surprise.

“Um,” she says, thinking quickly. Louder, she calls to the accidental intruder: “The aliens just beamed down this human woman! Quick! Go find a scientist!”

The person spins and runs in the opposite direction, back over the crest of the hill.

Ola looks down at Lily, who stares curiously back.

“Do you think they’ve gone to find a scientist?”

“No,” Ola yelps giddily, “I think they’ve gone to call the police because they’ve just seen two people fucking on a public hillside.”

“Are you sure they’ll think that? Your cover was rather good.”

“Thanks,” Ola says, extricating herself from between her girlfriend’s legs, “but yes! We’ve got to go!”

They scramble to their feet, Lily yanking her leggings back up. There isn’t time to fuss with the rest of her costume, so she snatches it up, clutching it to her chest along with the sign she brought. Once Ola’s grabbed their candle and gathered the blanket into a sloppy bundle in her arms, they sprint for the road and onward to Lily’s house.

The glow of the candle and Lily’s cape, reflecting it, are streaks of light in the black.

A blaze of brightness and joy. Their own two-person audience of believers.

#my writing #Sex Education #Sex Education spoilers #Ola Nyman #Lily Iglehart #Ola x Lily #Lily x Ola #Sex Education fanfiction

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sorcerersofnyc · 3 years

Text

The Last Thing Left (Zemo x F!Reader) 6/9

If it wasn’t so painfully ironic (and hilarious to watch,) Helmut would find the relationship between Sam and James a little sad.

Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.

While they wait for Torres to locate Donya Madani, Zemo brings Sam and Bucky to the home he once shared with you.

You reunite and he reflects upon his relationship with you (his wife’s friend and his friend’s wife) and your journey from being people with mutual friends to partners.

Chapter 6: When he wakes up beside you, Zemo remembers the day everything changed.

Angst, various mentions of death & mourning, Zemo’s wife’s name is Heike because of comics. Implied alcoholism by Zemo as a means to deal with his guilt. I use Serbian Cyrillic as a stand-in for Sokovian. The reader likes waffles (this is a non-negotiable fact).

Note: Main Character is neutral in most regards, but the story was written with my own cultural background in mind. (In other words, I won’t say what she looks like but I envision her as being black.)

First Chapter | Previous

***

Grief softens, but it never truly leaves.

So when Helmut wakes beside you, he isn’t surprised to find grief there as well. Pain has been a constant companion over the years but today’s grief is nothing but a dull throb in his chest.

He had a dream about his wife again. It wasn’t a sad dream, it didn’t hurt to look upon her face, but his heart ached for her regardless.

In his dream, she was happy, happy to sit and chat in a home that wasn’t quite in Sokovia or Spain, but rather a mix of them both. You were there, too, laughing and smiling alongside her.

She was taking the time to explain something to him, something you already seemed to understand. You both laughed when he failed to get the joke.

With a sigh, Helmut sits up in his bed and turns toward the window.

It’s dawn. The rising sun baths the room in an orangy-pink glow and you sleep soundly beside him. He traces little circles unto your shoulder as he thinks about breakfast, what might he make for you. The answer is obvious, really.

He then turns his thoughts toward his mission, whether or not Sam’s associate would locate Madani soon.

He also thinks about what you may do if he kissed you awake.

He thinks about many things as you sleep beside him.

And as he listens to the steady rhythm of your breath, he thinks that he’s truly happy.

***

You never asked what happened to Vasily Zaev and Helmut didn’t offer.

News of his death never reached any headlines in Spain or any other International News Broadcast for that matter.

There were the occasional rumors of a scandal, many of which were exacerbated by social media, but nothing outside the ordinary.

His demise was attributed to liver failure and he’d given his entire inheritance to a young woman about a quarter of his age. Tragic indeed.

In the weeks that followed that night at the Opera, you took an interest in his work. There would be no more missions like the one with Vasily (none would ever be that easy and he didn’t like to see you so scared,) but there were plenty of opportunities to conduct research.

And on some nights, you’d talk about more than just mission, nights when you shared your hopes and dreams for the future, your past sorrows, and secret anxieties.

He’d sit with you while you worked on your art, bought you flowers when you completed a commissioned project, and asked plenty of questions about some of your more unorthodox means.

Sometimes you’d take breaks together and watch television or read.

It was strange, just like the day you first hugged him, Helmut felt as though the two of you had breached something.

He now knew where you were born, how you became involved in the arts, how you felt the night you met Dominik at Heike’s dinner party, (“I always thought she set us up on purpose, but she always denied that she did.”)

It was those stories, those small, stolen moments that made him see you differently.

So by the time autumn settled and painted the leaves orange, red and brown, you were no longer just a friend his wife had—you weren’t even the wife of a friend that he had.

You were a friend to him as well.

“Have you seen this?” You asked one day, sitting right beside him on the couch. You were so close, Helmut could feel the heat of your body pressed up against him.

“See what?” He asked, though he knew what you would say.

“This article.” You slid your phone closer to him, leaned forward so close that the curve of your bosom pressed against his arm for just a moment before you leaned away. For the sake of your pride, he pretended not to notice.

The articles mattered more than creating an awkward situation.

He learned that you found articles about the Avengers to be the most interesting. Each headline would often read something like: ‘Accountability: Who Pays for the Avengers’ Mistakes?’ or ‘Sokovia Six Months Later’ and ‘‘Banning Ironman? One Minister Holds Firm.’

They were engrossing.

“They say the U.N. may get involved.” You said one day. “What do you think would happen if they did?”

“Something I’d like to see.” Was his thoughtful reply. And it was true; because even with your help, even as you grew closer together, the weight of his promise still bore down upon him.

The weight of his failure still haunted his sleep.

So for every moment he spent with you, he worked ten times harder. He worked late into the night to complete his research, learned everything he could about the Avengers and the Winter Soldier to complete his plans.

He had to work; he had no choice. Because every laugh, every smile, every lingering glance, every reprieve from his grief was a betrayal to that promise he made to his family—because happiness, even for a moment, meant that he had forgotten them.

There was no other way to justify his actions. In what other way could he be happy in a world where his family was dead?

He hoped to find the answers at the bottom of a bottle, but scotch, whiskey, brandy, and vodka, couldn’t provide a balm for his soul. Not the way your smile did.

So clearly drinking was his only option, the safest option, because he couldn’t let his thoughts linger on you.

He couldn’t compromise his mission.

But then one day, in mid-November, something changed.

Helmut read the headline for an article he knew would suit your fancy, but you didn’t come down for breakfast to discuss it with him, nor did you open when he knocked on your door.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” you told him—but you never came.

You left your room around noon but you barely spoke a word.

Helmut should have been happy for the opportunity to work, the chance to focus without you stealing his gaze, but he couldn’t ignore the lump that formed in the back of his throat when his thoughts drifted to you.

Over the past 7 months, you encouraged him to talk about his feeling, to open up more—but it seemed you weren’t interested in doing the same.

You left the house a word to him.

So Helmut waited for you to return:

He conducted his research and decrypted more files.

He brewed a pot of coffee.

He prepared lunch.

Had a glass of whiskey.

He checked his phone for messages but found nothing from you.

He reorganized your spice cabinets, bringing the most used containers to the front.

He checked his phone again.

Had a glass of whiskey.

And finally, when evening arrived and you still hadn’t come home to him, Helmut went into your room without permission.

He was careful not to disturb your things, (even if he wanted nothing more than to pick your stray socks off the floor,) and looked around the space.

There were books and magazines neatly stacked across every surface, their genres ranged from art and fashion to relationships and grief.

He lingered on that last title before turning his attention to a paper on your nightstand. The page was wrinkled, spotted, and ripped in many places, but he knew what it was before he even held it in his hands.

It was the letter Dominik kept in his pocket, the one he held on to so tightly, the one he had with him when he died.

He frowned, and his eyebrows knit together in concern for you.

You were grieving, and your grief had taken you backward, back to the promise of a simpler time. The letter was filled with the musings of budding love, a love that had grown and flourished before the cruelties of life intervened.

Helmut understood the unpredictable nature of grief, how it came and went without reason or regard, how days or even months could go by before it returned in full force.

So he set the letter down with a sigh and left your room as quickly as he came. You arrived home 20 minutes later.

“Hello,” He greeted you by the door.

“Oh—hi.” You paused by the door, a bag of groceries in hand. He followed you into the kitchen.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” He asked.

“No, I’m… I got it.” You placed the bag on the counter, unloading a bag of flour, eggs, and a box of powdered cocoa.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” You said, but then pause when you opened the spice cabinet. Your movements slowed before you stilled completely.

“Helmut? Did you…”

��Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s just… I…”

Helmut didn’t know it at the time, but Dominik would organize your cabinets when he returned from duty. It was his way of telling you he was home if you weren’t there to greet him.

It was that gesture that broke you.

You placed both your hands over your mouth but even that couldn’t force back your cry. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, “I’m sorry—I’m ok,” you lied, but it only seemed to make you cry harder.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Helmut spoke softly. With a hand on your shoulder, he turned you around to face him but you only shook your head. "Let me help you.”

It took a few more moments of coaxing, but once you calmed, you told him everything.

“His… his birthday is next week.” You said, and it didn’t take a genius to know who you were speaking of. “He wanted me to bake a cake.”

You set a yearly reminder to try new recipes a week in advance, a reminder you’d gotten that morning. “Sometimes I look down at my ring and I still can’t believe it. That’s I’m a...that I’m a widow.” Your voice shook around the word and you sniffled again.

Helmut walked you over to the table, helped you sit on a chair, and poured you a glass of Chardonnay.

“… I never wanted to move to Sokovia—did he tell you that?” He did, but Helmut thought it best not to interrupt you. “I wanted to be with him but I never would have considered it before I met Heike… but I loved him, Helmut, I loved him so much and he promised I’d be happy. There are days when I wake up and-” You didn’t finish that sentence, but he thought he knew what you’d say. There were days when you’d wake up and wonder why you were saved, why your loved ones died and you survived. He didn’t know if you remembered, but you told him this before, on the day he first brought you to Spain.

“… He used to wonder if he made a mistake,” Helmut started, “If he’d done you a disservice by asking you to move when his duties kept him away.” He released a bitter laugh at the memory. “He asked me once if he were selfish.”

“What did you say?”

“That he was.” Helmut shrugged, remembering the look of resignation that crossed his friend’s face, a look you then mirrored exactly.

Helmut put his hand on your shoulder.

“He was selfish, but he didn’t make a mistake… your happiness wasn’t wasted and he’d want you to be happy again.” After all, you didn’t fail Dominik. You hadn’t given him a false sense of security, a promise of safety away from the fighting—Not like he had with his own family.

At first, you looked as though he said something outrageous, something you couldn’t quite believe. But then you nodded, releasing your emotions with a shuddering sigh.

“You’re right… he would want me to, want us both to…”

He sat beside you for the rest of the night. He’d listened to you talk and then when there was nothing left to say, he sat with you in peaceful silence, your head against his shoulder.

And on his birthday, Helmut helped you bake a cake.

You stood in the kitchen together, mixing batter and flouring pans. The sweet scent of your creation spread and the home you shared was filled with joy and warm memories.

By the time you finished, you were exhausted, so he offered to take you to the best restaurant in the city.

It was the least he could do for you.

When you arrived, Helmut told the hostess of your reservation—Zemo, a party of two—and she checked his name off a long list that he somehow managed to get ahead of. The hostess noticed your wedding bands, and as she stepped away from the podium, she said,

‘De esta manera, el señor y la señora Zemo.’ Right this way, Mister and Misses Zemo.

Your eyes growing to the size of dinner plates as you turned to him, but he kept his gaze settled on the hostess, his jaw set closed.

It was an honest mistake, one he’s sure others made before, but to hear it said aloud was baffling. He intended to correct the young lady, but she gestured for you to follow before he thought of what to say.

If he said you were friends, others would presume you were having an affair. Normally, the opinions of others wouldn’t concern him, but he didn’t want anyone to think badly of you.

“That was weird,” you said. “I forgot people must think we’re…”

“Should I have corrected her?”

“It was an honest mistake, nothing worth embarrassing her over.”

And that was that.

You both agreed to treat it as a joke, to have fun with the idea because the alternative, explaining how you came to be together, was much worse.

And besides, Helmut thought while taking in his second cocktail, it wasn’t exactly hard to feign some level of attraction to you; you looked beautiful that night. He liked the way your formal clothing fit around your curves, and the way your heels gave shape to your legs.

He felt immediately guilty for that, however, and followed that guilt with another sip of his drink.

But that night wasn’t the only time someone mistook the two of you for a couple. Like meeting someone whose face one begins to see everywhere they go, he began to notice it more and more.

When he signed for your packages the delivery person would look at his ring and never bother to ask for familial confirmation. The old woman at the bakery would smile a secret, knowing, smile when he asked for two pastries to take home with him. The list of culprits went on and on. Everywhere he went people saw his ring and they’d assume he had a wife at home—that you were his wife at home.

On a gloomy day in January, you convinced him to visit an art gala with you. You made a group of friends around the area but one fell violently ill after a trip to New Jersey. You didn’t want to go alone so he agreed to put his work on hold for the evening.

You lead him to a room of abstract paintings and his attention was torn between the open bar and dizzying array of dark shapes pressed across the underside of a canvas. He couldn’t appreciate the work the same way you did, but he tried.

As he looked for what you described as ‘the emotional turmoil conveyed by the paint strokes,’ you drifted to the next piece and a gentleman approached you.

He was tall, with neatly trimmed hair and a clean-shaven face. The man seemed to recognize you from somewhere and offered his deepest condolences for Sokovia.

“Thank you,” you nodded.

“It was a genuine tragedy, a modern-day Pompeii.” His words gave you a reason to pause, which he seemed to take as permission to wax poetic about Sokovia’s demise in some futile attempt to prove his intellectual prowess.

“Yes, well, thanks for that.” You continued on politely. He didn’t seem to notice the exasperated edge. He opened his mouth to say something else, to perhaps touch you on the shoulder, and Helmut made the immediate decision to ensure that didn’t happen.

“Драга,” Dear, he called as he approached you, placing his hand on your lower back. “I’ve brought you a drink.” Helmut offered you the cocktail from the table, one he was about to drink himself before the man made you uncomfortable. You smiled, a look of relief on your face.

The man was no genuine threat, probably just a lover of art, but something in the way he looked at you, the way his gaze drifted from your face to your wedding band and the instant look of shame that overtook his (admittedly handsome) features, gave his intentions away—and Helmut didn’t like his intentions at all.

“Хвала ти љубави,” Thank you, my love, you replied with the mischievous smile you adopted whenever someone mistook you for being his wife. It was a playful flirtation, one that meant nothing.

Helmut greeted the man with a simple nod, pretending to have been oblivious to his blatant flirting, before guiding you away.

“I never would have thought to compare the destruction of Sokovia at the hands of an Artificial Intelligence to the eruption of Mount Vesuvius near Pompeii. How truly genius.” He said in a mocking tone.

“Stop that,” you nudged him, hushed laughter in your voice.

“I hope that isn’t what passes as flirting these days.”

“Flirting? He wasn’t flirting.”

Helmut struck you with a judgemental look. You tilted your head in contemplation.

“He wasn’t flirting,” you repeat. “It was just weird, that’s not really a topic most people bring up at parties.” You finally slowed your steps and you looked at a statue in the center of the room. It was clearly meant to represent a couple, but their abstract forms created a tangle of limbs that hurt his eyes to look at.

It was then he decided he hated contemporary art.

You took a sip of your drink—his drink—and turned to him. Your eyes met briefly, and you smiled, your eyes sparkling with mischievous glee.

“Let’s see what’s in the next room, душо,” Honey. You exaggerate.

“Of course, драга, lead the way.” You hooked your arm around his and you explored the rest of the gallery.

Eventually, you reached the main lobby where you set your empty glass on a table with dozens of others. An orchestra played a mix of soft melodies and something he thought to be tunes from an action movie. The music found it’s underscore in the murmurs of the guests who indulged themselves in cocktails and hors d'oeuvres.

He watched them for a moment and a dark feeling filled his belly.

This was the life he should have been living—perhaps not at a gaudy contemporary art gallery but something just as fabulous and amazing. This was the life you deserved to live.

Had it not been for Ultron, for the Avengers and others like them, he’d be enjoying this life between missions and military tours.

He might have even retired early, lived his life in bliss.

He felt angry, distraught, and disappointed all at once. So many dangerous thoughts spun around in his head and without even thinking, he looked at you. In his moment of grief and self-pity, he looked toward you to anchor him.

Your eyes landed on the couples swaying back and forth on the polished floor of the gallery. He noticed how close you stood to him, how your arm wrapped around his, the way your hand rested on his forearm.

He took a breath and he made himself smile.

“Would you like to dance, драга?”

“I’ve seen you dance, Helmut. I don’t.”

“You wound me.” He said, pulling you toward the others anyway. “You’ve yet to see me waltz.” (Or perhaps you did, at his wedding or your own, but it wasn’t the time to bring that up.)

He unraveled his arm from your and slid into position, pulling you close.

“You remember the steps, don’t you?” He asked because you had far less practice waltzing than he did. You nodded, but your eyes proved less certain than the gesture implied. “Don’t worry, I’ll lead.”

And he did.

Helmut led you through the steps of the dance, a simple box step he mastered many years ago.

“I think people are looking at us,” you whispered.

“They can take notes,” he replied. You were the only person in his gaze.

You anchored him; your kindness, your friendship, your playful banter, and your outlandish sense of design. With you he felt like less of a failure, his grief softened and he could see a clear path forward in your eyes—an alternate path if he was strong enough to take it.

But the U.N. taking actions against the Avengers seemed all but inevitable then. Helmut knew he could use their plans to his advantage, but it also meant he was running out of time.

Still, part of him wanted to surrender to your gaze, but the other part, the part that won, held firm. He tried to look away but then somehow ended up noticing the soft curve of your mouth and the fullness of your lips.

When the orchestra stopped playing, your dance slowed to a stop. But you couldn’t stop staring at each other, both cursed with the knowledge that something between you had changed.

***

Thanks for reading! Next time we'll get to see what happens when your flirtation with Helmut is no longer a game.

Feedback is very much appreciated. Please tell me what you think! This was a fun chapter to write.

Tag list:

@actuallyanita @fillechatoyante @viviace @buckyandlokicanhaveme @sapphiredreamer26 @robur-bellicum

Previous | Next

#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo x reader #mcu zemo #this was the longest chapter yet #my goodness

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

Say You’ll Stay - Chapter 8

Fury/Band of Brothers Crossover Fic

Guys, I’m so sorry its taken me so long to get this chapter out. My muse abandoned me and my laptop was being weird. But here we are! Let me know what you think!

Tag List: @happyveday @alwaysindecemberfeels @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @saritanotserena

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

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

The sunrise lit up the morning sky with an array of beautiful, pastel colors. Anna could only hope it was a good sign for the day. She rubbed a hand over her tired eyes as she carefully walked over the rubble on the city's streets, dodging icy puddles and mud. Gene was going to be quite upset with her later, but she tried not to think about that now.

Quickly, she hurried up the creaky steps of the old two-story home. It looked similar to most of the other buildings but its door was dirty and faded red with a rickety looking porch only half standing. She made a mental note to thank Boyd for his surprisingly clear directions, otherwise she knew she would have been wandering for a while and on these streets, that was far from safe. As quietly as possible, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. She had been invited here, actually forced to come here if Boyd's look yesterday said anything, but she still felt like an invader. The idea of setting foot inside the men's barracks was something her mind fervently refused to acknowledge; it just was not even a possibility in her mind. Though this building was not technically an army barrack in the literal sense, she still felt like an intruder because it was sleeping/housing quarters for the men.

Her grandmother would be furious if she ever found out Anna entered the men's quarters…. especially letting herself in. The thought tampered down Anna's nerves slightly as she thought of the horrified look on the elderly woman's face, if she ever discovered this. It lightened her mood for a brief moment.

In the room to her left, a soldier sprawled on a mangy looking couch with an arm thrown over his eyes. If she had not been able to see his chest rising and falling, she would have gone to check his pulse for how still he was otherwise. In that same room another soldier sat in a high-backed chair with his head tipped back, eyes closed and snoring like a chainsaw. Not recognizing either man, she guessed they were from one of the other tank crews. The sounds of movement and soft talking to her right had her quietly turning in that direction, hoping to allow the soldiers their well-deserved sleep.

She startled when a head popped around the corner, covering her mouth quickly before a scream could escape. The man had a face that reminded her vaguely of a bulldog, thick jaw and deep-set eyes. He scanned her for a moment in a way that felt more like an assessment than any kind of leering.

He grunted then jerked his head back the way he had come. "This way." He muttered only to disappear just as quickly as he appeared.

Through her heart still hammered in her chest from the unexpected startle, she took a deep breath in an attempt to steel her nerves. Sudden, frightened screaming would most likely get her or someone else shot. It was too early to be shot in her opinion. Best she try to suppress any girly screams for now. Or at least until after she got some sleep.

She followed the man around the corner only to encounter what most likely used to be a kitchen but was missing some key utilities. The faded, peeling wallpaper only added to the desolate feel. Just off center and close to a window facing the river was a table with three men sitting around it. Two others leaned against a countertop, mugs in hand. What quiet conversation had been going before her arrival ceased as she came into view.

"Anna?"

"Good morning." She attempted to smile but worried it came out more as a grimace. The need for sleep was beginning to claw at her mind.

"Sit down," Boyd immediately stood up, gesturing to his chair at the table. "You want some coffee? I reckon we got some left."

"That would be lovely, thank you." Knowing she probably would lose the fight, she went ahead and took his seat. Something she had learned about Boyd Swan over the past almost two weeks she had known him, he was a gentleman but beyond that…. he was stubborn.

Don leaned back in the chair next to her, cigarette between his lips. "Morning." He stated in a gravelly voice, lingering traces of sleep apparent in the sound. He must not have been awake long.

"Good morning." She flashed him a quick smile, willing the warmth to dissipate from her cheeks, or at least hoping no one noticed the blush. This schoolgirl crush on him was ridiculous, and she knew it. A peek of those blue eyes and her heart beat a drumroll in her chest that rivaled any band.

Boyd set a tin cup in front of her, steam tantalizingly drifting out of it. "Didn't think you'd be here this early. Why ain't you sleepin'?" Boyd asked.

She took a sip, the warmth delightful even if the taste was less than desirable. "Um, well, I'm supposed to be but I wanted to see y’all before, or you might come busting down the door again." She directed the last part to Boyd with a mock glare. He was lucky none of the medics carried guns with how he burst into the aid station demanding to see her.

He shrugged unapologetically. "Just wanted to make sure you was alright. We didn't know where you disappeared to. I see you got some new clothes."

"Yeah," she glanced down at the ODs she now wore. They were ill-fitting, clearly meant for a man, not a short nurse. She had to roll up the hems of the trousers and the sleeves multiple times and she swore she still looked like a child playing dress-up in their parent's clothes. On the other hand, they were far warmer than her nurse’s torn uniform and right now, that was more important. "Gene let me have one of their spare medic uniforms."

"Mmm… explains the patch here." Don touched the screaming eagle patch over her upper arm.

It was an innocent, teasing gesture but it still shot sparks through her system. Her eyes jumped up to meet his lingering gaze. He gave her a quick wink before leaning his chair back. The warmth of a blush reappeared on her cheeks. Quickly, she took a sip of her watery coffee, well aware of the others sitting or standing around quietly in the room.

"Gene? That medic with the southern accent?" Boyd asked, leaning against the wall nearby. His question was innocent enough but the scrutinizing look on his face said otherwise.

"Boyd…"

"He just seemed real protective of you, that's all."

She groaned, setting her cup down on the table and dropping her face into her hands. A few chuckles drifted from around the room but she ignored them. Actually, now that she was sitting still with her eyes closed, she could feel a wave of sleep threatening to crash over her and pull her under, with or without her consent. The coffee should have been helping to keep her awake but at this point, the warmth in her belly only made her want to curl up like a cat and doze off.

A conversation picked up around her, two of the men in the room speaking in a low drone. She recognized the sound of the man with the bulldog face, he made some kind of remark that had Don chuckle next to her before replying. Her mind refused to process the words though. The conversation became a background noise as she teetered on the edge of sleep and wakefulness. She should get back to the aid station. She needed to get back to the aid station to help Roe. Yet her body refused to comply.

"Anna."

The soft whisper of her name caught her attention from the sleep-induced haze. She turned her head slightly to meet Don's concerned gaze.

"When did you last sleep?"

"Mmm?"

He huffed at her noncommittal answer. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"No…. I stayed up to cover so some of the other medics could sleep. I'm fine. I should probably head back."

"Doll, I just watched you fall asleep sitting right there."

"No… I was just… resting my eyes. I should get back."

"Like hell you are." He raised his gaze to look over her head, his volume rising from the whisper they had been speaking in. "Boyd, take Anna upstairs and let her have one of the cots or bed. We'll take her back once she gets some sleep."

"No, it's fine…." She weakly tried to argue but snapped her mouth shut when he turned his gaze back to her.

"If you don't walk up those stairs right now, I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you up them." Don stated, then took a hit of his cigarette. The statement should have sounded like a joke but with his matter-of-fact tone and the way he watched her, Anna knew he was serious.

"Come on," Boyd put a hand on her shoulder. "We was gonna ask you to check Norman anyway."

That caught her attention. She whipped around to look up at Boyd. "Is he alright? What happened?"

"He's fine. Think he's got a cold.... maybe a fever too."

With that information, she more readily followed the gunner up towards the nearby stairs and up to the second floor. There were four doors in the hallway but he led her to the furthest one on the right. Inside was a bed big enough for two people, a large dresser, nightstand and a short couch off in the corner. What immediately caught her attention though was the figure lying in bed, curled up like a child and coughing with a dry and scratchy sound. Her own exhaustion was forgotten as she darted past Boyd to drop next to the figure under the thick quilt.

"Hey, Norman."

"Anna?" He blearily opened his red-rimmed, glassy eyes. He sniffled, wiping his nose on the edge of his sleeve.

"How are you feeling?"

"Ok…"

"Liar." She teased, running a hand through his hair gently after feeling his forehead. He felt mildly warm but nothing she was too concerned with yet. That cough had her more worried. "What all hurts, Norm?"

"Boyd thinks it's just a cold."

"I know. Running nose, scratchy throat, slight fever… anything else? Headache? Fatigue?"

"Uh huh." He mumbled, eyes closing as he relaxed under her touch, sleep guiding him away from awareness.

He looked so painfully young, lying in the bed. It broke her heart to know this was someone who was forced to kill people on a regular basis. He should be back home and going to school or flirting with his crush or playing baseball with friends. He should not be here. None of them should be here.

Yet here they were.

She looked around her and found his canteen laying just underneath the bed. Picking it up she was pleased it was at least half full.

"Norm, I want you to drink some of this before you fall back asleep. Can you do that for me, please?"

With a painful groan, he shifted enough to drink a couple of mouthfuls of the water before handing it back to her and slinking back down onto the bed. She stood up but was surprised when his hand darted out to grab hers.

"Don't go yet." He said just barely above a whisper. It was the pleading look in his eyes that convinced her.

"Ok, sweetie," she cooed, running her hand over his sweaty forehead again, "I'll stay a little longer."

She looked back over at Boyd, hovering near the door with an expression on his face she could not distinguish.

"Can you fill this back up and get him some of those crackers from your rations?"

Boyd nodded, moving to take the canteen from her hand. "Sure thing. Anythin' else you need?"

"No, I'll stay just for a little bit. Can you come get me in an hour or two? I really need to head back to the aid station."

"You also need to rest. Those bags under your eyes look like permanent bruises now."

"I will." She snapped then immediately felt bad and sighed. "I'm sorry, I will. I promise."

"S'alright. I'll come back in an hour."

"Thank you." She smiled, even if it was only a twitch of her lips. As Boyd walked out, she knelt back down next to the young soldier. His eyes were already closed, breathing slowing as slumber took hold once again. She rested her head on the side of the bed, carding her fingers through his hair. A hacking cough overtook him, startling them both. Once he settled, she continued her ministrations, humming softly. She hoped it was just a cold. That it was nothing more severe.

She made a mental note that when Boyd came her in an hour, she would make sure to ask Gene if anyone had found tea or honey laying around.

*****

Don watched Boyd and Anna go up the stairs. When he turned back, he saw a couple of the men's gaze lingering on the stairs.

"The nurse is off limits." He stated with such finality that had at least one of the men's heads snap towards him. As if his statement sealed an invisible decree, the men in the kitchen turned back to whatever they were doing prior.

Davis looked at him from his spot across the room, leaning against the kitchen counter. "She yours?"

"I thought you don't participate in gossip?"

The other tank commander shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee.

Don ignored the question, even if he could feel Davis' gaze frequently drifting to him. He focused on the map on the table before him. It was not necessary for him to study it but the action had become a habit of his whenever his crew moved to a new location. Knowing what other towns were nearby, rivers, roads, anything that could be of use later, he tried to memorize it. At this point, he figured by the time the war was over he would have most of Europe and North Africa geography permanently seared into his brain.

A couple minutes later, Boyd came back down and returned to his seat next to Don. He scrubbed his face with his hands and sighed deeply. "She's workin' herself too hard. Looks like she ain't slept in a week."

Don kept his thoughts to himself but he was loathed to agree. Exhaustion hung off her like a heavy cape making her feet drag as she walked. Witnessing how easily she fell asleep just sitting at the table did not help her case.

"Told her I'd be back up in an hour to get 'er."

Don raised an eyebrow, looking at his friend. "Are you going to?"

Boyd smirked. "I'll check on her but if she's sleepin', I'm gonna leave her be. Lord knows she needs it." He paused, glancing towards the stairs. "I'd bet my own Bible she's asleep right now."

"Mmm… Norman alright?"

"He's sleepin'. She's takin' care of him."

He was not all surprised. Since they had arrived in Haguenau, Norman's health had plummeted. Don worried for his newest crew member. The poor kid looked miserable and these were certainly less than ideal conditions for someone sick. The kid had a bed and a roof over his bed…. he would pull through. He had too. Don would not even consider the alternative. Especially with Anna now looking after him. The small nurse would mother the hell out of whatever is wrong with the kid. With a smirk at the thought, Don went back to studying the map.

Several hours later, he headed up the stairs to the room he shared with Boyd and Norman.

A runner had come from Captain Winters requesting his presence at noon at HQ. Don agreed, sending the runner back on his way. Boyd met his annoyed gaze and they shared a mutual sigh. So much for them having a reprieve before being sent back out.

Up the stairs he went and down the short hallway. The floorboards creaked under his boots; a sudden memory of his childhood home crossed his mind. Whenever he tried to sneak out of this bedroom as a child, he never could get far because of the damn loud floorboards.

He opened the door slowly, not wanting to startle the room's occupants. As he registered what he saw, it brought a small smile to his lips and he paused at the sight. Norman was still curled up asleep on the bed, mouth open and breathing loud. On the other side of the bed, Anna lay on her side, hands tucked under her face, hair a wild mess around her. Boyd had mentioned when he came up to check on them, he had helped move Anna to the bed with her barely rousing. Clearly more tired than any of them assumed.

Instead of waking her up like he intended to, he found himself closing the door quietly and just watching the two sleep. Yes, he knew it was creepy and if Boyd knew, the gunner would rightly smack him in the back of the head. Would not be the first time after Don did something stupid.

War brings people together in the strangest of way. After the…. accident...he thought he would never have family again. That because of his stupid mistakes, he was destined to be alone forever. Which he rightly deserved. But then he went to war. He was thrown into a tank with four other men who quickly became brothers.

If he needed to be distracted from commands and his own inner demons, he knew sitting down with Gordo would distract him for a while with his crazy stories of home and the shenanigans he did as a teenager. Gordo always had a joke or story to share to lighten the mood.

Grady respected Don as a leader but never let him run him over; he could just as easily return Don's anger-fueled fire as follow his commands. It had taken some time for them to trust and respect one another, their tempers too similar. Now there was an underlying understanding between the two of them, that they took the worst of the jobs, that they would carry the most blood on their hands to spare the others. If Don had to get into a fist fight, there was no one else he would want more by his side.

Then there was the man who had become more than a blood brother, a confidante, a best friend, a moral compass. Even in the first week of tank school, Boyd had looked over at Don one day, said he was proud to be by his side and thought Don was a good man. Don had laughed in Boyd's face but somehow it sealed a pact between them. Boyd's calm demeanor helped keep Don's temper down and even when it did flare up like a roman candle firework, Boyd was always there to rein it in. Neither of them drank so while the others went off to drink away the night, Don and Boyd found themselves sitting together silently and both were more than alright with that.

Norman reminded Don of his little brother so much it physically hurt sometimes. He despised himself that it was HIS fault the boy was forced to lose that innocence he carried. It was HIM that made Norman kill. But this was war, and if they wanted to survive, they needed to be merciless. Don knew he overcompensated by making sure Norman ate and rested when they could. He showed the young soldier how to disassemble and reassemble his rifle, how to stab and slash, how to survive. He refused to let the boy die even through his own stupid mistakes. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, the idea had been planted that making sure Norman survived this goddamn war would be his penance for his own failures.

Before two weeks ago, these were the four people that mattered most to him. Even more than what was left of his blood relations. Losing Red, Norman's predecessor, had felt like a knife to the heart, even if he masked it for all to see. He refused to let the others see him grieve, he had to be strong for them.

Now though, Anna had slipped past his heart's barriers and settled there in a place that he had not realized was empty until her presence filled the prior void spot. She remained in his thoughts more than he cared to admit. Her soft touch, her gentle spirit, those gemstone eyes, that faint scent… it all lingered with him like a summer's heat that no matter what you tried to do, day or night, you could not escape. He swore she was a siren, come to torment him. His life was proof enough he did not deserve someone like her, he never would deserve someone like her. She was gentleness and kindness wrapped up in a person. He was wrath and mistakes that cost people their lives.

Yet still her presence persisted.

Shaking his head, he pulled himself out of his thoughts and moved to her side. He hated to wake her. She looked so peaceful.

"Anna." He whispered. "Anna, wake up."

Overly aware of his actions, he squatted down to be eye level with her. He reached a hand over and brushed some loose strands of hair off her cheek. The sunlight coming through the dirty window made her red hair shine. "Come on, darling. Time to wake up."

He was unsure where the pet name came from but once it left his lips, it felt right. Before he could think too long about it, she began to stir.

She sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyelids fluttered open but once the sunlight hit, they slammed closed once again. "No…" she whimpered, scrunching her nose up in dislike of either the sun or waking up. Either way, he was positive he had never seen anything as adorable before… and he never used the word adorable.

Oh, he was so fucked now.

He chuckled. "Come on, Anna."

"What time is it?"

"Almost noon."

She peeked an eye open at him. "I told Boyd to wake me in an hour."

"Yeah, well we thought you needed some sleep."

Grumbling something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "overprotective mother hen", she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up.

Movement drew Don's gaze over to Norman who was shifting around. His eyes blearily opened; it took a few seconds to come out of sleep. Once his mind seemed to realize Anna was still half laying in the bed less than a foot away from him, he sat up like he had been shocked with electricity.

"Don, I swear nothing happened. We just sleeping, I mean… I don't think…" a bout of coughing interrupted his frantic and hasty explanation.

At that, the tank commander laughed loudly. "I know, Norman." He shifted back towards the door, watching the two amused. Anna's cheeks were pink now but she gave no other indication of hearing Norman's sleepy mumbling.

"How are you feeling, Norm?" She asked, placing the back of her hand on his forehead.

"Alright, I guess."

"Think you can come down and eat?"

He nodded sluggishly. They both rolled out the bed, him moving a bit slower. The whole way out of the door and down the stairs, Anna walked next to him, occasionally putting a hand on his shoulder or giving a word of encouragement.

Don led the way back down, still smirking about Norman's hasty and confused comment. He would have to remember it to rib the kid later on when he was feeling better. Finally making it to the kitchen area, they deposited Norman at the table next to Gordo, who was nursing a cup of coffee. Boyd meandered over from reading on one of the couches in the common room, glasses still perched on his nose.

As soon as Anna saw him, she stomped over and punched him in the arm. "You were supposed to wake me up in an hour."

Boyd winced and tried to shuffle out of range of another strike. "Well, you looked tired."

"What every girl wants to hear, Boyd, thank you."

Don was not the only one laughing at the interaction.

Anna blushed as she seemed to notice the others about the area but ignored them, walking back over to Norman. "You just rest. I'll come back and check on you tonight. I'll see if they have anything to help at the aid station."

The kid nodded then started coughing again.

"Don't worry, we'll take care of him." Gordo said, wrapping an arm around him and giving her a quick wink.

She smiled back, cheeks still pink from her prior blush. "Thanks, Gordo."

Don figured it was time to speak up now. "Let's go, Anna. I'll walk you back." He was surprised when she followed him without hesitation after a quick goodbye to those from his crew.

Don and Davis were lucky to have found an unoccupied house on the western side of Haguenau for their crews, further away from the river and the Germans across it. Binkowski and Peterson and their crews occupied the building just behind them. Here they did not have to worry so much about the frequent mortars and snipers. Though some of the holes in the floorboards were concerning, but it was a roof over their heads.

The tank commander and nurse walked in silence past the other houses and buildings towards the aid station. The frost, hidden in the shadows, crunched under their boots. An unusual silence permeated the air, no shouting or sound of gunfire coming from the river. It made Don wary and he slowed down his typical purposeful stride to match hers, making sure to keep his body between hers and the direction of the river. He knew the action would be useless against a mortar but it helped alleviate some of his worry.

They stopped at the back door to the aid station, the couple brick steps still intact, leading up to a small stoop and the back, wooden door. Don remained on the muddy ground while Anna stepped up onto the first step then turned around to face him.

"Thank you for walking me back."

He hummed, glancing further down the road. "You make sure to eat something now. Can't have you wasting away."

"Isn't that my job to take care of others?" She said cheekily.

"Yeah, doesn't hurt to have someone looking out for you too."

It was a simple, truthful statement. If war taught anything, it was the need for others to watch your back both in dodging bullets and to share meals. War and death were malicious bastards, dragging down anyone into a black hole of melancholy before they could even realize they slipped in the first place. Yet as soon as the words left his mouth, the weight of them hit him firmly in the chest. Instead of meaning it as a comrade or friend, he realized he meant something more. Someone to look out for her in more than just the little things, but in everything. Shit.

Her head snapped up, her gaze meeting his in a way that sent a tingle down his spine. Neither one moved as they stared at one another. The world threatened to fade away around them. She was beautiful, it was a fact. Even in ODs that threatened to swallow her, she still managed to radiate warmth and kindness. He had caught more than one soldier eyeing her up. It burned him up on the inside but he had no right to fight them over their actions. She was not his…. even if he was beginning to wish she was. She was too good for him. Too pure. Too beautiful. His presence would only taint her.

He needed a distraction, something to break the hold they both seemed stuck in. He blurted the first thing that came to mind. "You still have the knife on you?"

She blinked rapidly as if awakening from a dream. "Yes." She stuttered then leaned over slightly to lift her right pants leg up.

He looked down and noticed it strapped to her lower leg, just above her boot. "Good."

Even though the conversation halted, it seemed neither one wanted to move away. Her eyes held his once again as if waiting for something. A sign? A word? A fucking billboard with neon lights? Hell if he knew. The problem was, he could feel it too. There was something shifting between them and it both terrified and elated him.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out and slipped an erratic strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb trailing down her jawline after, her soft skin like velvet against his own roughness. Fuck he had been dying to touch her again. Instead of alleviating the need, now it seemed to burn stronger in him.

"Don…" she whispered as his thumb hinted at touching her lower lip.

The way she said it in that breathy tone, the light in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks, all of it combined sent a bolt of lightning through him that threatened any self-control he had. He wanted to pull her small frame against him, to taste her and see if her lips were as soft as they looked, if that heavenly scent that surrounded her came from her skin or hair. He wanted her. Fucking hell, he wanted her. And if the way her eyes were dilated and her breathing uneven, perhaps she wanted him too.

The door beside them suddenly opened, jolting them both back to reality. Whatever moment they had, dashed away as a paratrooper glared at them then pushed past them.

"I should…."

"Yeah," he said, pulling out a cigarette. He needed to keep his hands busy otherwise he would be tempted to pull her against him. "I'll send someone to come get you later."

"That's not necessary."

"Maybe, but I sure as hell don't like you walking around by yourself."

"Fine." She stood up on her toes and brushed a quick kiss to his jawline, an innocent ode to the last time she kissed him. "Be safe, Sergeant." She whispered against his skin then quickly turned and ducked inside the aid station.

"Damn it." He muttered after his brain finally decided to restart. Such a simple touch should not make him lose all sense. He kicked a loose rock, sticking the cigarette between his lips and lighting it. The smoke curled in his lungs, helping solidify him into reality. He glanced back at the door, briefly wondering what it would be like to storm into the building and kiss her like he wanted too. But before he could do something stupid, he headed towards the regiment HQ, the lingering hint of lilacs danced in the corners of his mind.

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