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nationalharryleague · 3 years

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Saturday Morning

Summary: Y/N and Harry spend a lovely Saturday in bed.

Genre: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF and a “Two for the Show” extra!!

Word Count: 2.5K!

A/N: Two for the Show is by far my favorite and the most popular fic I’ve ever written and I just missed my babies so much I had to write an extra for them!! I owe my heart to my loves S @tobesolonely and Nat @harrystylescherry for reading this for me and reassuring me when I needed it!! I am very rusty so please be nice! You can find more of my writing in my masterlist and I really want to hear what you have to say about this one!!! Also hi soph <3 @theharriediaries

**Read Two for the Show first**

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Saturday mornings had always been Y/N’s favorite.

When she was little, she always woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen up the hall (courtesy of her father being an early riser who always got a bit bored in the mornings). As she got older, she spent them sleeping in and trying to recharge from long days at school, basking in whatever peace she could get before exiting her room into the chaos of her loving--but crowded--household. When she got to college, Saturday mornings were reserved for dealing with hangovers, and once she moved to LA and her career began to take off, it was the only time she had for herself in her busy schedule.

Her love for Saturdays had only grown since she had moved in with Harry.

They always woke up slowly, basking in the quiet of their bedroom and the soft glow created by the light that streamed through the small crack in their blackout curtains. The pair were often a tangle of limbs by the morning, pressed together as close as they possibly could get, both of them feeling at their most relaxed when they could feel their partner’s heartbeat against their own. Sometimes someone woke up with an elbow to the ribs, but most of the time Y/N’s cheek was pressed up against Harry’s shoulder, her face buried into his neck, with his arm draped around her waist and tightly holding her to him like she might roll away in the middle of the night.

That morning she woke up to Harry’s curls tickling her nose. He had been growing them out slightly, letting them fall to a middle part that gently flicked out at the bottom. It reminded her of when he had hosted SNL a few years prior and she adored it. It was just the right length to sink her fingers into and hold on to him. But she did not appreciate it pulling her out of her beauty sleep.

She had wiggled away from the wispy hairs, trying to get her face away from the tickling strands when she felt Harry’s hands clamp down on her waist, refusing to let his girl slip away from his grasp.

“Stay,” he rasped, clearly still half asleep and mumbling in a way she knew no one else could have understood. “You’re warm.”

“I’m not leaving,” she murmured, maneuvering her way onto her other side and pressing her back against his chest. “Just adjusting.”

“But I like holding you that way.”

“Hold me this way.”

“Yes, sir,” he smirked against the back of her neck, delicately placing a few kisses to her skin while he was there. “You just wanted to be the little spoon.”

A sleepy but mischievous smile crawled onto her lips as she snuggled further into her pillow, eyes still closed in hopes of keeping the day away just a little bit longer. “Maybe I did. What are you going to do about it?”

The second his hands moved to her waist she knew what was about to happen. A squeal left her lips as his fingers began to move rapidly at her sides, pulling loud and boisterous laughter from her chest. Sleep was a dream of the past now, but she was sure she wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

When Harry was gone--either on tour, work trips, or the occasional solo visit to see his family--she missed him like crazy. She still remembers the empty heartache she felt when he had gone on the next leg of the tour without her when they were still brand new. She had to be in LA for her now exploding career (thanks Harry), but daily phone calls and incessant texting could only do so much when the person she was quickly falling in love with--for real this time--was on another continent. By some miracle, she had made him feel the same way about her as she did him through a screen.

She always felt like he had taken a piece of her with him when he was gone. He did if you counted the small hidden tattoo of her first initial that had found its way onto his ribs after their (actual) two year anniversary.

The feeling of missing him never left when he was gone. She imagined he felt the same whenever she was on tours or work trips of her own.

While her body fought against his tickling touch, her heart melted into it. These moments, on (usually) quiet saturday mornings, meant the world to her. This was a time that was just theirs, belonging to no one else but them. Their joy and love took place in private, as privacy became something the couple had been increasingly possessive of as of late.

Harry’s loud and giddy laughter behind her sounded like a perfect melody and she could feel his chest heaving against her back as he rolled onto his back and brought her with him. Their comforter was now tangled around them, wrapping the pair together in a way neither of them could move with Y/N’s thrashing. He finally ended his torture when she whezed out between giggles that she was going to pee herself.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” he relented, letting his hands leave her sides to reach them across his stomach and hold her body tightly on top of his. “We both know how you pee your pants.”

“Harry Edward Styles, it happened one time three years ago after nearly an entire bottle of tequila! How long are you going to hold onto that and bring it up?”

“Until it’s not funny anymore,” he snickered.

“You know what’s also funny? When you got so sloshed you were crawling under tables at the BRITs. Or that time that you got so drunk that you sent Jeff a dick pic by accident because you thought you were sending it to me. Or that other time-”

“That’s enough!” he announced, playfully clamping a hand down over her mouth, and releasing her mouth and a disgusted ‘blegh’ when she ran her tongue up his palm.

“Behave Styles,” she teased as she inched her way up his body, resting her head on his shoulder and snaking her fingers up into his hair, giving it a gentle tug as a warning.

“You know I like it when you pull my hair like that, so how about you behave, Styles?”

“That’s Y/L/N-Styles to you,” she teased, but she couldn’t fend off the giant grin that found its way to her lips at the mention of their still very recent nuptials.

The wedding had been small, very small, with only their immediate families and best friends in attendance. While their relationship had started in (and for) the focus of the public eye, they both decided their wedding was going to be just between them and those that mattered most. They didn’t wear their rings in public and no magazines had leaked or published that they were married yet. The day that it became public information was inevitable, but at the moment, the two relished in their little secret.

She felt a swell of love within her as she thought about her husband, sliding out of his grip and onto the bed beside him so she could finally see his face. His eyes were always a little puffy in the morning, a sight shadow of stubble decorating his cheeks if he had shaved the morning prior, but his tired smile was always the same. His pink lips lazily perked up to the left, his deep dimple appearing as if to say ‘good morning,’ and his two front teeth that always reminded her of an adorable bunny made their first appearance of the day. His smile usually disappeared quickly though, morphing into a pout and asking for a kiss.

How could she ever say no?

She settled a hand onto his bare chest and propped herself up to reach her lips to his. Their mouths moved with a well practiced gentle love and passion for each other, Harry’s hands coming to rest on her heating cheeks. She moved herself over him, settling her knees on either side of hips, never breaking their lips apart.

Kissing him was her favorite activity and with five years of practice, they were really good at it by now, but the swirling electricity that always appeared never failed to bring a flush to her cheeks. She could never get used to him. He was intoxicating and she never wanted to sober up.

Their moment was interrupted by a loud grumble coming from Harry’s stomach and Y/N pulled her lips from his and threw her head back with a loud belly laugh she just couldn’t contain.

“You good?” she teased down at him, lightly poking at his bare stomach right below her favorite butterfly.

His cheeks flushed slightly as he dramatically hung his head and flashed his best puppy-dog eyes at her with a silent plea to feed him. “I think I’m hungry.”

“You can be hungry but I’m not getting out of bed to make you breakfast.”

“Well, I’m not getting out of bed either,” his eyebrow quirked. “Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want your morning coffee that you say I don’t make right?”

She pretended to think about it for a moment. “I’m willing to risk shitty coffee if I get to stay in this bed.”

“I will do anything you want other than getting out of this bed right now.”

“Anything?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow and a curious lilt in her voice. She was quickly answered with an eager knod. He obviously thought this was some sort of sexual request by the smirk that rose to his face. “You have to clean the litter box until I decide I’ve been properly paid back for your veggie omelet and tea.” His face fell.

“That’s your job!”

“Exactly why I don’t want to do it.”

“I’ll do literally anything else.”

“My one offer. Take it or leave it?”

“Leave it,” he said with a theatrical pout and crossed his arms over his chest. She was momentarily distracted by the way his tattoos moved over his muscular and tan arms for a moment, but shook herself from the thought and steeled herself in her stubbornness.

The two shared an intense look for a moment, both of them deciding whether or not they would press the issue further. With a sigh and slight roll of her eyes, she stuck out her hand towards him.

“We go on ‘shoot’ and none of your ‘best two out of three’ bullshit.”

As childish as it felt, Rock, Paper, Scissors had become their way of negotiating most of their disagreements over the years. It was a lighthearted game of chance, and while it sometimes led to a few minutes of frustration for the losing party, it worked for them and stopped arguments before they could happen. Interviewers often thought it was a joke when they answered the usual “secrets to a happy relationship” question, but it couldn’t be more truthful.

“Fine, we play by your rules.”

Their fists dropped down to their opposite palms three times, before both called “shoot.” She had gone for rock. Harry had gone for paper.

A loud combination of a whine and a groan left her lips and she dramatically let her body fall off of his and back onto her side of the bed.

“Fair is fair, my love,” he playfully taunted. “I would like my veggie omelette and I’m thinking I could go for some green tea this morning.”

“I will be getting you back for this,” she grumbled as she began to drag herself off the bed and away from it’s cozy warmth. She slipped his go to Columbia black hoodie over her head and took a pouty deep breath. It would have been more dramatic but she was distracted by how good the sweatshirt smelled. It smelled like home.

“I love you so so much,” he defended, opening his arms wide to grab her for one last kiss before she ventured down to the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled against his lips. “I love you too.”

She sulked out of their bedroom towards their kitchen (not before Harry swatted at her butt that was barely covered by the sweatshirt) and began to hold up her end of their deal. The cold tile nipped at her toes as she made them both omelettes and bopped along to the music she had instructed their Alexa to play. She fixed herself a morning coffee (that Harry really did always screw up somehow) and rummaged through their cabinet until she found her husband’s special order of green tea.

“Come get your breakfast, princess,” she shouted up the stairs when she was finished and after pausing her music.

“No breakfast in bed?”

“You are not getting eggs on our new--very expensive--sheets. Come down here and give me another kiss.”

She heard a whine of “fine” come from their bedroom followed by the padding of feet. Harry appeared at the top of the stairs moments later, rubbing at his eyes like a sleepy child and she just wanted to pull him into her arms and run her fingers through his hair until he fell back asleep. He pecked her lips softly when he reached the bottom of the stairs, but killed it when he called her a “breakfast tyrant.”

Y/N followed him back into the kitchen and watched him plop his still sleepy body into one of the high chairs at their kitchen island in front of his plate and his favorite mug that read “Coffee has a rough time in our house. It gets mugged every single morning!” She hooked an arm around his shoulders and slid herself onto his lap, sipping on her coffee as she waited for his opinion on his breakfast.

“It’s always better when you make it,” he smiled at her and pressed an eggy kiss to her cheek.

“You always say that,” she smirked back at him, only causing his smile to grow. “Oh, I almost forgot. Alexa, resume music.” He gave her a faux frustrated stare as he recognized what song she had been playing.

“And when we go crashing down, we come back every time, 'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style!” rang out from the small speaker on their counter and she laughed so hard she would have slipped off his lap if his arm wasn’t wrapped firmly around her waist.

“How long are you going to hold onto that and bring it up?”

“Until it’s not funny anymore,” she used his own words from this morning against him with a cheeky smile.

“You are so lucky I love you so much.”

“And I love you more,” she mumbled against his lips, bringing her smirk with her into their kiss.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!! If you enjoyed this you can support a broke college kid here :)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #nationalharryleague #mine #one direction #one direction fanfic

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cocochannel00 · 3 years

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Things that Husband!Harry would definitely do (a thread)

(If you don’t think that Tiny Desk Harry doesn’t give off mad husband!harry vibes - he looks so fluffy- then we can’t be friends)

- He’d sneak into your room the night before the wedding because he missed you even though he knows its bad luck and when you’re mad at him for it he would just smile and place a kiss on your forehead and say “I don’t need any luck, I just need you”

- At your wedding reception he would walk around the room introducing you to everyone as “my wife” as if they didn’t already know who you were

- During your wedding dinner he’d spend the whole night whispering dirty jokes in your ear trying to make you laugh because he knew that even though it was your wedding day you were still spooked by all of the attention

- On your first year anniversary Harry wanted to surprise you by making you breakfast in bed so he started making pancakes as you slept. You woke up to the sound of your fire alarm going off and Harry blowing the smoke off a pan with a pillow. He’d give you a sheepish smile before mumbling a “maybe we get takeout this year?”

- During the holidays he’d hang mistletoe all around your house and force you to kiss him at every one. “Look love it’s mistletoe, you know what that means” he’d state with a grin. “Harry I just kissed you literally 2 minutes ago in the other room” you’d grumble “Doesn’t matter love, it’s mistletoe and those are the rules. Now come here and kiss your husband”

- Anytime the two of you would get into any sort of major fight where you would say “I hate you” he would shoot back “Well I love you so I guess you’re stuck with me” before going to sulk on the couch

- Whenever you went to his shows or stayed with him on tour he would force you to sit back stage and watch him from the wings so he could watch your reaction to his corny jokes and steal a kiss from you in between sets and on his bathroom breaks

- You agreed to be the designated drive for your group for a night out so Harry gets drunk and becomes extra clingy. He spends the entire night stuck to your side, shoving his face in your neck whispering “I’m going to marry you one day” to which you’d remind him quietly that you were already married. He’d then nod thoughtfully and mumbled “Well then I’m going to marry you again just in case”

- One night you would be tossing and turning in bed unable to sleep and you would accidentally wake up Harry. You’d apologies because you knew he had to wake up early the next day, but he would just shush you with a quick peck before repositioning you so that you could lay your head on his chest. He’d then softly start humming the tune to one of the new songs he was working on until you’d fall asleep

- Harry would convince you that he was capable of building the Ikea coat rack the two of you had bought for your new home on his own so you’d go into the room next door to take a nap. When you woke up and hour later you found him laying on the floor facetiming Mitch as he tried to figure out why the last piece wasn’t fitting properly only for you to look at it and realize he had built half of it backwards

- Harry would come home late from one his movie shoots and would mumble a quick hello as he walked in through the door. You’d be sitting on the couch watching and episode of Dateline and he would throw himself next to you and lay his head on your lap. You’d start running your hands through his hair as you finished watching the last couple of minutes of the episode before asking Harry how his day was only to realize he had passed out on your lap and was now quietly snoring, a small trail of drool slowly coming out of his mouth

- The next season of your favorite show Handmaid’s Tale had come out so you and Harry started watching it. Every five minutes Harry would ask you a question about the show until mid way through you looked at him and bursted out “Harry if you ask me one more question about the show I’m sending you to our room”. Harry would pout at you and sink into the couch, grumbling about how it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember what happened last season before he shoved some popcorn into his mouth

- You’d need to go shopping at Target one day to get some decorations for your niece's birthday party and Harry would decide to come along. “This is our list Harry, we’re not buying anything that’s not on the list” you’d say in the car before getting out, but it would be hopeless because every other aisle Harry would pick something up and say “babe we need to get this” and you would stare at him and say “is it on the list?” and he would grumble a no before sulking back down the aisle to put it back

- On road trips when he let you pick the music he would grumble when you would change the song every 30 seconds. “Love just choose a song, it’s not that difficult, gave you the bloody playlist” he’d state as you would continue to skip through the songs mumbling “I’m tired of that song though, just wanted to hear the chorus”. “Is that what you do with my songs too, just skip all the good parts to get to the bloody chorus?” he’d ask mockingly as you gave him a sheepish smile and mumbled a “sometimes” before finally picking a song

- It would be nearly 4 am and you would still be awake reading your book in bed as Harry slept soundly next to you. You could feel the tears running down your face as the main character just had their heartbroken and a soft sniffle left your nose which caused Harry to startle awake. “Babe what time is it?” he’d mumble as you continue reading, paying him no mind. He’d turn on his phone and groan as he saw the 4 flash at him before turning to see the tears on your face. “Oh no love did she get her heartbroken again? Sure they’ll get back together by the end” he’d state, knowing this was your third rom-com book of the month. You’d mumble a yes as Harry gently dog eared the page before you could protest. He turned off your lamp before tucking you into his side, pulling the covers up to your chin, letting you crying into his chest over your fictional characters

- You and Harry going to your 15th high school reunion together and he gets jealous when he sees you talking to your ex-boyfriend from when you were 16. He’d come up behind you and wrap an arm around your waist while placing a kiss to the side of your temple before reaching out his free hand to introduce himself. “Hello I’m Harry. The Husband” he’d say as he shook your ex’s hand just a little tighter then necessary

- Harry would be overly invested in your work place gossip so when the two of you would have dinner together he would constantly ask questions about what happened with your coworkers that day. “So did Stacy and Justin get caught yet or does Janet still have no idea? Did Kathleen ever get that promotion? If I ever see Garrett I’m going to punch him”

- He’d force you to wake up early with him so the two of you could workout together in your home gym, but you’d just sit on the floor against the mirror in your workout clothes staring at him. After several attempts at trying to get you to stretch with him he’d give up and say “If you’re not gonna workout at least give me some motivation babe” so he’d do his abs workout in front of you and every time he came up from a sit-up you’d give him a kiss

- Harry would come down with a cold and he would turn into a 5 year old boy and try to milk it for everything it’s worth. “Think the doctor mentioned that cuddles would really help with my headache, love.” “Harry I don’t think that’s what the doctor said” you’d reply as you placed a cold wash cloth on his forehead. “Don’t think I would have forgotten such an important order from her. Now, come here I want to cuddle my wife”

- He’d come home from the studio fidgeting with his beat-up blue iPod in his hand as you were finishing up a quick dinner for the two of you. He would gently place the iPod on the counter next to you as he poured himself a drink to calm his nerves. You’d stare at it for a minute before asking “Is it finished? Can I listen?”. He’d nod before you gave him a quick kiss and took the device to the living room, leaving him there with his thoughts. An hour later you came back into the kitchen, tears streaming down your face as you ran up to hug him. “Liked it?” he’d ask nervously, this being the first time you’d heard the finished album. “Absolutely loved it” you’d whisper back causing Harry to release a deep breath before taking your face in his hands and kissing you roughly

- He’d start every award acceptance speech with “I’d like to first thank my wife for always supporting me” and then try to catch your eye in the crowd, giving you a soft smile that was only meant for you before going on to thank everyone else

- “We need an intervention Harry. Why are your suits in my side of the closet?” you asked as you came down stairs with one of Harry’s Gucci suits. “I was running out of space and I didn’t think you would notice” he replied with a blush. “Well I did so either you move them or I’m throwing them out” “Love but they’re Gucci you can’t just-” “Ah ah ah I don’t care. My side of the closet” you’d state before dropping the suit in his lap and walking back upstairs

So many others come to mind but these are just a couple that came to mind. I’ll probably do a Dad!Harry version at some point as well

#harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #husband!harry #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles masterlist #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic

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butterfliesluke · 3 years

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Ex trouble:

Request: Y/n and Luke are married. Luke's ex Sierra keeps bothering them tho even tho Y/n is pregnant. It goes as far as that they have to call the police.

Requested by: emmyb.allen1 (this is for a request no hate towards Sierra)

A/N: Sure thing! Enjoy!

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

Y/n's POV:

The light breeze of summer air was hitting my face. My body sprawled out on the bed.

My back against Luke's warm chest as my eyes fluttered open. A smile on my lips as I felt warmth curled up against my belly.

Little paws pushed against it. Petunia has been always attached to me since the day I moved in with my at the time boyfriend.

Now Husband. But since I got pregnant she was practically guard dog.

I scratched her head smiling before turning around slightly. Luke's eyes shut closed.

His eyelashes laying against his cheeks. His hair messy against the pillows.

My finger went up to poke his cheek with a cheeky smile.

A groan leaving his lips as he opened his ocean blue eyes with a glare.

,,Just cause you are carrying my child doesn't mean you can be cheeky darling." He mumbled making me giggle.

A sudden ping interrupting my planned sassy remark.

His phone lighting up on his nightstand. I huffed annoyed.

Since Luke's ex found out about my pregnancy she apparently noticed how much she still loves him.

Don't understand me wrong. I always had respect for Sierra. But this is going to far.

,,If it's her again I will actually give birth and then jump out if the window." I laughed making Lu chuckle.

,,Don't stress about it love. It's bad for our little bean." He whispered against my lips before pressing a kiss against them.

He sat up grabbing his phone. Before slandering into the bathroom.

I sighed before turning to piggy who was now sitting up next to me.

,,Goodmorning pup!" I whispered smiling.

After we got ready for the day Luke and I decided to go out for lunch with the boys.

We all sat in the back of the little diner.

,,I'll have..the chicken Alfredo with garlic bread..but could I get the garlic bread on a different plate? I don't like my food touching." Michael murmured.

The waited giving him a side eye meaning he will definitely spit in our food after that.

Crystal shaking her head with a smile.

,,Ofcourse..I'll be back with your drinks." She sighed and turned around.

,,Why is she making such a fuss? It's literally her job!" I laughed as Luke wrapped his hand around my shoulder.

,,I don't know! Don't worry Mike." Ashton smiled patting his frowning friends back.

Whose eyes then went wide while looking behind me matching everyone's who was sitting opposite us.

,,Yall look like you saw a ghost!" Luke exclaimed turning around to.

A small curse leaving his lips making me and Calum turn around too.

,,Oh fuck no.." I spat as I watched the one person I least wanted to see walk in the diner.

Sierra. Today is not my day.

,,What the fuck is she doing here?" Kay asked confused as she walked up to our table with an annoying grin.

Luke grabbing my thighs and whispering calm words in my ear.

That didn't help my boiling self tho.

,,What a pleasant surprise! 5sos and their girls! And the one night stand that got pregnant." She teased with an smug pout.

A gasp leaving Crystal's lips.

,,Oh fuck no girl. You are not ruining our day." Luke laughed standing up.

,,Oh Luke..don't get so worked up! We both know she's just a phase." She scoffed.

What the hell. Everyone is looking at us.

,,Sierra I am literally married to him you you blind chicken." I giggled shaking my head.

,,Deaton. Leave before I fucking call the police." Calum threatened also standing up.

Suddenly a glas off tap water being placed infront of me making me realize the waiter is back.

Sierra eyeing the orange juice infront of Luke and the sprite infront of Kay.

Her grabbing them both and with a swing I felt it splash against my shirt and pants and a slap against my cheek.

A yell leaving my body as I looked at her with stunned eyes.

,,Babe! Omg was it something hot? Did it hit your stomach!? Someone call the police right now! " Luke ranted before cupping my face.

His eyes filled with worry and pain.

,,I'm alright lu. It's okay.." I reassured standing up.

,, You guys take a taxi home. We'll handle this from here." Michael spat looking at Sierra.

I nodded standing up with Luke guiding me outside.

I guess this is what it's like being married to a celebrity.

Ex trouble part 2:

Request: Can I Have a Part two where Sierra feels so Guilty

Requested by: emmyb.allen1

A/N:Ofcourse! I tried my best! Hope yall like it was very requested by all of you♥️

THIS IS JUST AN IMAGINE. THE MENTIONED TOPIC DOES NOT APPLY TO SIERRA IN REAL LIFE. WE LOVE HER (no really. I am practically obsessed with her.)

Luke's POV:

It's been a week since the drama all happened.

And I'm still worked up about it. What is the liquid would have been hot? It would have burned her skin.

No matter how much I used to love Sierra. This has gone too far.

The constant stalking, messages, drama.

I'm married for God sakes. The moment she got physical the line got overstepped.

,,What are you still fuming about?" A sweet voice asked making me turn around.

Y/n waddled into the kitchen. Her belly looked like it could explode any second.

Her signature dimply smile flashing across her face.

,,The Sierra thing..." I murmured as she sat down next to me.

Her head falling on my shoulder as her perfume went up my nostrils.

My heart beating faster by the second.

,,Oh Lu. Stop stressing. It turned out fine. She won't bother is anymore." She whispered as I tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Management has finally decided to do something about this mess allowing me to be able to never let Sierra near us again.

,,I know...but-"

My sentence got interrupted by the door bell.

Y/n furrowing her eyebrows. ,,Are the boys coming over?" She asked making me shake my head.

,,Mhm maybe it's Crys." She shrugged pressing a kiss to my cheek and standing up.

Running to the door as best she could. A grin on my face. I'm so madly in love.

My day dreaming cut off once I heard a loud ,,LUKE!!" from the hallway.

The Luke that mostly comes when either she is upset with me or she needs me instantly.

My mind running a mile per hour. Did I order something stupid again?

Oh God what did I do?

Jumping up I quickly ran to the door.

My eyes widening as I saw who stood infront of the door.

,,Yeah no. What are you doing here?" I asked crossing my arms, standing next to the shocked Y/n.

Sierras guilty face dropping some more.

I know that face. She really felt bad for something.

,,Luke.. Y/n..I don't know what got into me to be honest. I was hoping I could apologize and maybe explain myself." She muttered.

Her gaze fixed to the ground.

,,There's nothing to ex-" ,,Hush! Sierra this is the last chance. If you try to pull a thing like that again I don't wanna see you again." Y/n, miss sometimes too kind hearted, said.

Sierra had a small smile on her lips before nodding. Us stepping aside and walking into the living room.

,,She better have a good reason." I grumbled making Y/n push me slightly.

,,Negative Nelly.." she spat shaking her allowing me to roll my eyes.

We sat down on the couch. Si taking a huge breath before starting to speak.

,,Firstly..I wanted to say how truly sorry I am. I should not have lashed out on you especially since you are carrying a Child." She said.

Her eyes screaming -I really mean it this time-

A small nod coming from Y/n.

,,And Luke. I really do care about you. I'm sorry for hanging on you even tho you are married." She explained.

My dark eyes turning a shade lighter as I nodded too.

,,The thing is..when I found out your pregnant...my heart shattered." She admitted.

Unexpectedly her eyes filling with fresh tears.

Y/n's face dropping as if she knew something.

,,I-I can't have kids. I found out two months ago." She cried out.

Y/n's eyes filling with tears aswell as I gasped. Even tho she practically turned my life upside down..I was still in love with her a while ago.

,,Oh my..Sierra I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed as Y/n put her hand on hers.

,,I got so jealous and I'm sorry!" She sobbed making our heart shatter.

,,oh shh it's okay..I can't imagine how you feel." Y/n cooed rubbing her shoulder.

My arm coming around Y/n's shoulder as I placed my hand on Sierra's thigh.

Y/n was my everything. My whole world. And her allowing me to have a child is the best gift in the world.

But I can tell the excitement on her face when we talk about welcoming our baby into the world.

She will be an amazing mother and her love for our child is already so huge.

So passionate.

I can't imagine how it is for a woman to find out that she will never be able to have children.

Pulling her into a hug we all stayed close to her.

And in the end...our little girl and Sierra got along so well.

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ficsilike-reblogged · 3 years

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What’s in a Name? Pt. II

A/N: So I know I said that the first part was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done...but this takes the cake. The softest, cheesiest thing I’ve ever written and I will apologize for nothing.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: PG for mention of guns??? A few smooches or two.

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The five times Marcus Pike tries to propose and the one time he actually does.

(Beautiful art by my bb @bucketheadredacted)

Read part one!

Marcus Pike was finally a man lucky in love.

Maybe. Hopefully. God, he really needed to be lucky. Just this once.

He had bought the diamond ring three months after she had moved in—that was him moving slowly! Honestly! He had felt the urge to look at rings only a month after she had kissed him in the park but had refrained, his past failed relationships whispering at the back of his mind. He didn’t want to push her away. Didn’t want to scare her by moving too fast. Didn’t want to break his own heart again. It had been a strange uphill battle to just learn her name—and now he wanted to give her his name, too.

But he loved her. Truly.

And he knew that within a month of stealing kisses and slipping into overpriced hotel rooms between briefings and meetings and auctions across the country. And Marcus hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking her if she wanted to move into his Washington D.C. apartment six months later.

The words had tumbled out of his mouth while they were still half asleep, his alarm blaring in the background, alerting them both that she needed to get up to fly back to New Orleans.

And she…giggled and rolled over to press a kiss to his lips, uncaring of his morning breath. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

And it had been perfect. It had been good to come home and see her jacket slung over the back of the chair, to smell her perfume lingering in the bathroom as she dashed out the door, to wake up next to her when they both had a reprieve from their chaotic jobs and not have to worry that they would have to separate again within a handful of hours. It was good even when she tried a new recipe and the entire apartment smelled like burnt noodles for two days.

But he wanted to call her his wife and he wanted to be her husband. He wanted to have a family with her and maybe buy a house a little further outside the city—she had mentioned that she wanted a dog and a cat. “With room for them to run around!” She said with a smile.

And that all circled back to the ring. The platinum ring with the princess cut diamond. The ring he had been hiding for ages. The ring he wanted to put on her finger—if she said yes. Or he would have to tuck his metaphorical tail between his legs (again) and nurse a broken heart (again) and listen to his coworkers well-meaning condolences (again).

“When are you gonna ask her, man?” One of his fellow agents asked as they parked the agency-assigned SUV in the underground lot. Marcus had made the mistake of mentioning how he had a ring waiting at the back of his sock drawer and this agent—and honestly? Marcus couldn’t even remember his name—latched onto that and had spent the last three hours trying to ‘help’ Marcus come up with a plan on how to propose.

Marcus had a plan already. Thank you very much.

“I am going to take her to see the fireworks over the river.”

“Romantic. Good choice.”

Marcus felt himself puff up a bit at that. It was romantic, wasn’t it? This would be fine.

It was not fine.

The spot Marcus had picked was already crowded by the time they arrived—he was still grumbling about the flat tire he had to fix on the way there but his mood shift when he heard her sigh. It was a happy sound that had a smile pushing at his own lips.

“This is a good spot. Good choice.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his warm cheek before turning and grabbing the cooler from the back of his car.

Marcus quickly patted his pocket and felt the ring safely in its confines. This could work, right? He just needed to wait for the fireworks. He set a checkered blanket on the warm grass and helped her unload their cooler, filled with her favorite picnic foods and maybe a bit of alcohol too, hidden away in two tumblers. The wind off the river was nice, keeping them from getting too overheated and someone further down the bank had set up a radio, letting music provide a backdrop to the quiet lapping water and the conversations from the strangers around them. He was not the best conversationalist, Marcus had to admit, he was busy rehearsing what he was going to say in his head over and over, trying to imagine if she would cry or smile—or just…say yes. But he made her laugh and earned a few more kisses when he managed to contribute to the conversation and fed her a few of the grapes from the cooler.

It was good…it was fine…until it wasn’t.

It started with her swatting at something on her arm just as the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon. That wasn’t uncommon; the East Coast was notoriously buggy during the summer. It was probably a mosquito.

But then it happened again and again and again until she was standing up with a shriek, wildly hitting at herself. “Marcus! Marcus!”

“Honey?”

“There’s ants everywhere!”

He glanced down and…yes, there were ants everywhere. And then he felt his first bite.

They quickly gained more than their fair share of attention as they both scrambled to get the hundreds of ants off of them, knocking over their food and cooler with unpleasant groans and gasps as they gained more ant bites.

In a rushed haze, still swatting at themselves, they gathered up their belongings and all but dumped them in the back of the car. When their tires hit highway, they heard the first boom of the fireworks.

“How’re you feeling?” She whispered as she rubbed a bit more cream onto Marcus’s back. It had been almost a week since the ant incident and his body was still covered in small red bumps. A testament to his failure.

He reached back, a little awkwardly from his angle on his stomach, and grasped her hand. “I’m okay, honey.” He hummed when he felt her pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Marcus turned his head just a bit and looked at her hand. Her ring finger was still bare. The ring had been tucked away in his bedside drawer after they both scrubbed themselves clean and then all but bathed in calamine lotion. But Marcus was a man on a mission. Having brunch, just to the two of them, all calm and relaxed, was just as good as fireworks.

When she’d been showering earlier, he had called in a delivery from her favorite breakfast restaurant, the florist down the block, and snuck around the apartment to try to tidy up a bit. Not that the apartment needed much. He had set a new set of candles in two overly-priced candle holders and lit them…and then quickly snuffed them out, deeming it too early for candles. He had slipped back into bed just as she emerged in a puff of lavender steam from the bathroom, looking much more comfortable than she had in days.

He rolled over and sat up to steal a kiss against her smiling mouth before coaxing her down onto the bed to apply her share of the strangely scented lotion to her matching set of bumps and bites.

“You know,” she started, face squished in the pillow, “for what it’s worth, I did have a really good time.”

“Yeah?”

“You know I always like spending time with you.”

“Even if you get eaten alive by fire ants?” He asked, a smile pushing at his mouth as his fingers trailed down her back.

She laughed. “Even then.”

He leaned down to press a kiss behind her ear before finishing her layer of lotion and his smile only grew when he heard the familiar, satisfied hum rumble in her throat. A knock at the door had him rising. “I’ll be right back.” Marcus pulled on a shirt as he moved toward the door and opened it, happily seeing two delivery men. He paid them both quickly and moved to the kitchen to set everything up as he heard one of his least favorite sounds.

Her cellphone ringing.

Marcus placed the flowers in her favorite vase but didn’t even move to plate the food he’d had delivered. What was the point?

She came out of the bedroom, rubbing at her temples and her phone in her pocket. “I-”

“You have to go,” he said, finishing for her. “Where to this time?”

She grimaced. “Nowhere fun. But apparently a Pollock has surfaced at an auction set for tomorrow night.” Her eyes darted to the flowers and her grimace softened. “Are these for me?”

Marcus smiled and handed them to her, chuckling as she all but shoved her face into the blooms to inhale their scent. He tightened the knot on the top of the takeout and handed that to her, too. “Here, you can eat this on the road.” And when she opened her mouth to apologize, he kissed the words away. Marcus would never fault her for her job and its uneven schedule, just as she never held his strange hours against him. “Home by Wednesday?” He murmured against her lips.

“Home by Wednesday. I promise.”

When he closed the door to her taxi and waved as he watched the yellow car disappear around the corner, Marcus sighed. Strike two.

Patrick Jane was not who Marcus wanted to see right now. And neither was Lisbon. But that was beside the point. The point was that Marcus hadn’t seen his Honey in almost three weeks because of a demanding client wanting more and more art work so she was flown all over Europe to different auctions and private sales.

He had remembered how he heard her sniffle over the phone when she told him that this client was asking her to pick up more art. “It is good money, really good. I can probably take a few months off after I do this but I…” she hiccupped and his heart broke. “But I just really miss you.”

And that was why he had booked a table at this beautiful and romantic restaurant after she had managed to sleep off her jet lag and rinse the grime of the plane from her skin.

Marcus ordered expensive wine that she knew she only ordered when she closed a big deal and asked the chef to place the ring on the top of the tiramisu he had scheduled to be brought out in exactly 47 minutes.

But that plan had been fantastically derailed when that obnoxious blond man spotted him from across the restaurant and then had the gall to ask the hostess to seat them near each other. (What were they even doing in DC?) For her part, Lisbon looked uncomfortable, too, as they made small talk.

With each passing word and each forced anecdote, Marcus felt himself deflate. There was no way he was going to propose to the love of his life in front of his ex-fiancée and her husband.

“You know,” Jane started and Marcus felt his teeth grind, “Marcus always struck me as a family man.”

She smiled and reached out to wrap her fingers around Marcus’ and squeezed. “He is.”

“Oh?” Jane continued, leaning forward in his seat. “Is a congratulations in order?”

Marcus could hear his teeth grinding but her grip tightened on his hand while her smile remained steady. “That is none of your business. I am sure you can fill your time poking and prodding into other people’s lives. Now, please, you have interrupted my long overdue date with the love of my life with your prattle. I’m sure you’re lovely, but I am done entertaining you.” She raised her other hand and asked for the check which was quickly given. The hostess, for her part, did glance to Marcus to make sure it was okay before he subtly nodded. The ring was slipped back into his hand by a sly waiter.

“Marcus,” Lisbon murmured, “we didn’t mean-”

Marcus stood and buttoned his jacket before helping his Honey into her coat. “Have a good night, Lisbon.”

And they left the restaurant, flagging down a taxi as thunder rolled overhead. Marcus made sure to open the taxi’s door for her and let her slide in before joining her in the backseat. The pair was quiet for a moment, and then two before she started to giggle. The giggle grew into a full-belly laugh that had tears gathering in her eyes and Marcus had to laugh, too. She always made him laugh.

“God!” She said. “He’s so full of himself. And truly, Marcus, I’m sure Teresa is lovely but she has terrible taste in men. Choosing that over you? I would never.”

Marcus felt a selfish bloom of pride swell in his chest. “Yeah?”

She leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. “Yeah. I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”

And you know? That made Marcus smile just as much as putting a shiny ring on her finger. She wanted him forever.

He could propose tomorrow.

He did not propose tomorrow.

Or any day after that for the next three months. There just…wasn’t the right time. The ring he now kept in his suit jacket pocket seemed heavier by the day. Even his fellow agents seemed to pick up on the fact that something was bothering him.

“Fighting with your lady, Pike?” One of them asked as they were huddled around a table in the art storage room, trying to devise a plan to catch a thief who had managed to disappear with fourteen million dollars’ worth of some blueblood’s family heirlooms which included an Artemisia Gentileschi original. It was a brazen heist and obviously a huge case that needed to be their sole focus.

But sometimes his group of agents were a little nosey.

“We don’t really fight,” Marcus muttered as he looked over the blueprints of the family’s home, trying to find a way that the thief had come in and out. The official police report said a downstairs window was open but he didn’t believe that. “We have our disagreements but she is the most levelheaded person I know. The most heated conversation we had was over which diner had the best waffles.”

Another agent gagged. “You two are disgusting.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘perfect,’ actually.”

Marcus shook his head and bit back a laugh—they really needed to focus on this case. “We’re not perfect.” And they weren’t. No one was. But that didn’t mean he loved her any less.

“Still haven’t proposed, eh?”

“Shut up, man.” There was no heat to his tone as Marcus scrubbed a hand down his face before looking at his watch. It was almost eleven at night. “Go home. It’s late. We can pick this up in the morning.”

The rest of the group grumbled their thanks and disappeared to the upper levels of the building, probably in search of their forgotten dinners before going home. Marcus tapped his pencil on the blueprints, his eyes constantly moving to the door leading into the ‘piano room’ which then led down to the wine cellar. He wasn’t sure why, but something in his gut just told him the answer led to that set of rooms.

“Marcus?”

He jumped at the sudden noise but quickly righted himself as he saw her entering the fenced off storage area, carefully skirting around a prized Greco-Roman statue they had just recovered in Philadelphia. It was no longer a surprise to see her down here, the front desk guards knew her by face and name and all but gave her security clearance, easily letting her through when they knew Marcus was working late. He stood and walked over to her, pressing a kiss to her lips and then forehead in greeting, listening to her hum in contentment as her hands wound around his waist. “What are you doing here, Honey?”

She smiled as she looked at him and shrugged. “I knew you were working late. Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d keep you company instead of tossing and turning.”

“You know I’m always happy to see you.” He led her over to the table and told her a little about the case, as much as he could without truly getting in trouble, and let her look over his notes.

She frowned as she turned the blueprints around and looked at them. “These people are like…billionaires, right?”

Marcus confirmed it with a frown but let her continue.

“Right. So, last time I was in LA, I was at that big, private auction at one of the gaudiest homes I’ve ever visited. Remember me telling you about that? The host got so drunk that he demanded he show everyone his three panic rooms and the private tunnel he had requested be dug behind his laundry room in the basement. Apparently he bribed the city inspector to keep it off the official blueprints so that a thief couldn’t use that tunnel.” She held up the blueprints and tapped at the wine cellar. “Ten bucks says there’s more to this wine cellar than just some ridiculous vintages.”

Marcus could feel his face lighting up. She was amazing.

They spoke a little longer, about possible suspects and how there was probably more than one thief—or at least a getaway driver—before their conversations shifted.

“The guys upstairs said something funny.”

“Hm?”

“They called me Mrs. Pike.”

His next breath nearly choked him. He was going to kill the guards upstairs. “O-oh? Really?”

“I think it sounds nice,” she said, her tone a little embarrassed. “Not that I haven’t thought about it before.” She smiled a bit, almost nervous. “We’ve talked about it, me and you, but to hear someone else say it…makes it sound…really nice.” She hid her embarrassment behind her hand and shook her head.

“I think it sounds nice, too.” He could do it. Right now. He could do it. They were surrounded by beautiful art. All by themselves. There was a light in her eyes that made his heart squeeze. His hand patted the pocket where he kept the ring and-

-it was gone.

“Marcus?” Her tone was filled with worry and she reached out to trail a finger over the crease that had erupted between his eyebrows, a gesture she did often when he brought work home with him. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. I’m fine, honey.”

He most certainly was not but it wasn’t like he could tell her that or propose. ‘Yes, honey. I lost your engagement ring. Will you marry me?’ Fuck.

The next day Marcus was stopped by the man at the front desk as he headed toward his office. “Everyone’s been telling me about your big plans. Can’t do it without this.” He handed over a small bag and inside…was the ring.

“Where’d you find it?” Marcus asked, stashing the ring in his briefcase this time.

Apparently his pocket couldn’t be trusted.

“Parking lot.”

Marcus could only sigh.

This was it. This had to be it.

If it wasn’t? He was sure the universe was telling him to just give up. They were happy, right? In love? Maybe they didn’t have to be married. Maybe…

No. No, he wanted to be her husband and he wanted her to be his wife. And that was why the ring was (safely and securely) stowed away in his wallet. He just needed the right time.

She was sitting across from him at their favorite diner, a stack of pancakes and a plateful of waffles between them and half-finished milkshakes abandoned near the saltshakers as they tried to guess which type of syrup was in each little carafe from a single bite. It was a game they played a few times before—one they had played on their first official date, actually. It had lasted well past the dinner and museum visit he had planned and into the morning where they had landed at the diner as the sun rose.

“This has to be strawberry,” she said as she finished her bite. “What do you think?” She asked, holding out the fork for him to take.

He took his bite and nodded. “Strawberry, definitely.”

She lifted the carafe and smiled as she read the tape on the bottom. “Point for us!” They high-fived across the table, laughing. The waitress who always served them shook her head with a smile from her place at the counter, knowing their game too well.

Marcus poured the syrup on their next bite and guessed its flavor before letting her take a guess.

“Um…blueberry?” She licked her lips, contemplating. “Maybe?” As Marcus lifted the carafe and confirmed that it was indeed blueberry, she continued. “Oh, a display of Alphonse Mucha is coming to Georgetown.”

Marcus smiled. Over an hour of their first date had been filled with soft whispers and shy smiles in front of a wall of Mucha sketches. They had been asked to leave by a polite but tired museum guard, not realizing they were there past closing. It was one of his fondest memories. One of the first times he realized she was truly special. He fell a little (more) in love with her that night. “We should go.”

“I’ll get tickets!”

This was the time. This was the moment. He pulled his wallet out under the table and curled his finger around the ring and watched as she smiled, wiping a bit of syrup from her chin. “I love you.”

She paused and looked at him, smile continuing to grow. “And you know I love you, too.”

“And I’ve loved you for a long time. You make my life better, make me better. I know our jobs are crazy. But they’re beautiful. Filled with art and excitement. But you’ve really…made my life a masterpiece.”

“Marcus?” Her voice was soft, eyes narrowing just slightly.

But Marcus pressed forward. “And I know that’s cheesy but I-”

And his phone was ringing. Why of all times was his phone ringing? And worst of all, it was the ringtone he had set for his boss. He had to answer. And she knew it, nodding just once with a fading smile.

He stood from his seat and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he murmured before slipping away with his phone pressed to his ear.

Marcus was tired. Tired.

He had been to New York to Miami to Orlando to Atlanta and then finally to Rio. The band of thieves, making a run for it with millions of dollars of art—including a da Vinci sketch. But he and his team caught them before they disappeared into the wind and the art was lost to the black market.

But he was tired.

He yawned as he drove through the mostly-quiet streets, ready to slip back into his apartment and pull his honey into his arms and then…sleep for three days.

That sounded wonderful.

But then his phone rang again.

And he had to answer it.

Thankfully, it was a short call. Someone had just broken in to one of the smaller museums in Georgetown and they wanted Pike to catch the thief in the act. Marcus sighed as he tossed his phone in the passenger seat. If this went well, it meant less paperwork. And then he could sleep.

The museum was dark when he arrived. There was only a faint bit of life coming from around of one the corners and he slunk around in the shadows, a hand on his gun. He was ready. He could stop a theft before it happened. He could-

Marcus stopped dead in his tracks as he realized what he was looking at.

Standing in the center of the hall, surrounded by (electronic) candles and priceless Mucha originals, was his Honey. His Venus.

“Hi Marcus.”

He took one step forward and then two and then three-

And she dropped to one knee and gently grasped his hands in hers, tears filling her beautiful eyes. “You make me smile every day. Even when I feel the need to hide all your socks after you make me mad. You have given me a new way of seeing art, appreciating it. You, Marcus Pike, have helped me grow, helped me breathe when I thought the world was just too much, helped me learn what strawberry syrup tastes like.”

Marcus had to laugh at that, feeling tears start to gather in his eyes. “And pecan, too.”

“And pecan syrup, too.” She squeezed his hands again with a growing smile. “I’ve never known love like this. And I never want to be without it. I never want to be without you. I just…” she hiccupped, a few tears falling down her cheeks. “I just love you. Will you marry me? Can I be Mrs. Pike?”

Marcus pulled his hands from hers and quickly pulled his wallet from his back pocket, pulling the ring (finally), from its depths. “Can I ask you, too?”

She all but tackled him to the sparkling marble floors and pressed kiss after kiss to his cheeks, chin, brow, and lips, a laugh on her tear-stained lips. “Ask me.”

“Will you marry me?” The words finally came out in a rush, his heart beating wildly behind his ribs as he watched her smile. Her beautiful smile.

“Yes.”

A/N: Please let me know what you think!

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike #the mentalist

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princessphilly · 3 years

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CW: soft smut, mentions of miscarriage, fucked up doctors.

This is definitely it. Sid and Nina’s story is over but you will see them in the other fics of this universe, including a huge part of Plain Jane

Nina stared at the boxes. It was time to pack but at the same time, she couldn’t do it.

They were so excited. A baby so early in their marriage had seemed scary but Sid and Nina were ready. They had picked out colors, a room for a nursery, and had begun to discreetly pick up supplies.

It was nineteen weeks; still early but they were getting ready to announce. Then there was the blood in the toilet three days ago when Nina woke up and went to the bathroom. And now, their first, a girl, was gone.

The doctor was sympathetic, and said it happens a lot. Most pregnancies never make it to birth, she said. But it hurt that their girl was now an angel. Nina sniffled as she packed the pack-and-play back into the box.

“Hey, why are you doing that? You’re supposed to rest!”

Nina looked up, tears in her eyes. Sidney rushed to her, lowering himself to the floor. Gathering his wife in his arms, he soothed, “Pretty girl, we’ll have more.”

“But-but-“

Nina’s tears turned into sobs as she relaxed in her husband’s arms. Her momma had a history of miscarriages: what if that meant that there would never be a child?

As if he could read her mind, Sidney replied, “it doesn’t matter, I love you no matter what.”

Nina was sleeping, finally getting some rest. Matthew was napping on Sidney’s chest, his little boy still red but much calmer.

It hadn’t been an easy birth for Nina. This was their third pregnancy but first child to make it past the 2nd trimester. And Matthew decided to come out three weeks early, November 26 instead of his due date of December 17.

The door opened and Matthew stirred a bit before settling back down. Sidney looked around: his mother was curled into a chair, reading a book while Tracy was scrolling her phone on the couch. The proud grandfathers had gone out to get lunch for everyone.

Walking in, the doctor said, “The nurse said Nina is healing nicely but we will have to do some stitches. Your son is a big boy.”

Sidney gave him a tentative grin. Matthew was 9lbs, 4 oz and 22 inches long. He was on the bigger side. The doctor continued, “When I stitch her, I can give her a husband stitch, if you like.”

“What is that,” Sidney asked, wrinkling his nose.

Trina interjected, “Don’t you dare, Sidney.”

In a soothing voice, the doctor said, “it’s an extra stitch to make your wife as tight as she was before she gave birth.” He winked at Sidney.

Sidney looked at his mother before responding, “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” Nina managed to say, opening her eyes. “I heard about that stitch and I will sue if you do that to me.”

“You heard her.”

Sidney gave the doctor a hard look as he shrugged, preparing to give Nina only the necessary stitches. Passing his boy to his mother, Sidney said, “I’d like a different doctor.”

“What, I’ve been-”

Sidney took out his phone, ready to start making some calls. The doctor left, grumbling under his throat. Nina gave Sidney a grateful smile before dozing off again.

One of the hardest things for Sidney was the fact that it was best for his boy not to grow up in Canada. As a proud Canadian, that rankled him. He wanted Matt to be more Canadian than American. But when a video of 2 year old Matt skating and hitting a puck dead center into the net made major news, Sidney knew he had no choice. He wanted Matt to have more of a childhood than him, to not feel like he had to be the next one.

So, his family spent most of the year in Pittsburgh and summers in Cole Harbour or on different vacations. Sidney knew that his son was still “famous” but Matt was still treated as a kid. With Nina’s extended family, there wasn’t any preferential treatment. His kids were the same as their cousins in Nina’s family, giving his children normalcy Sidney never had as a child.

Sidney raked a hand through his silver hair. As much as he wanted Matt to go his own way, it still freaked him out that his son chose to be a *goalie* out of all positions. He winced as he heard a shot hit the post. Then Matt made a glove save and Sid clapped.

“That’s not the talent I expected but he’s already showing signs of being a better goalie than center, Sid.”

Sidney turned to his longtime mentor and now close friend, Mario. Shrugging, he replied, “I just want him to be happy. He’s happy, I’m happy.”

Sidney smirked. “Plus, Chloe is going to be the best woman’s hockey player ever. She’s 8 and she’s already playing with 10 to 12 year old girls.”

“True,” Mario conceded. “You’ve transitioned from pro to hockey dad.”

“Eh, can’t forget Aja and Morgan. I’m a hockey, figure skating, soccer, and dance dad. Not bad for a fifty year old washed up player.”

“Who’s washed up?”

Sidney grinned as his wife bumped him with her hip. His baby girl was holding Nina’s hand, her hair pulled up into a dancer’s bun. Chloe was right behind her, still clad in her hockey gear, Aja trailing behind with a book in her hands.

“I am,” Sidney drawled.

Chloe piped up, “No you’re not, Daddy! You’re still the best hockey player ever!”

“Yup,” Morgan added while Aja nodded, absorbed in her book.

“No, you’ll be the best hockey player ever, Chlo’,” Aja stated, closing her book. “Daddy will be the best men’s hockey player.”

As Aja firmly nodded, Sidney and Mario laughed.

Nina let out a breath. It was crazy how just one touch from Sidney made her hot, even seventeen years later. His lips were trailing down her neck, one hand cupping her breasts. “Can you be quiet for me, pretty girl?”

“Uh huh,” Nina breathed out. Sidney’s other hand was exploring her folds. She was getting wet but menopause was finally calling so Nina knew they would need some help. Leaning away from Sidney, she pulled out the lube from the drawer.

“Thanks, pretty girl, but I’m more interested in burying my face in your pussy,” Sidney laughed.

Nina replied softly, “No problem. You know my mom just came back from her cruise so the girls will go find her first this morning.”

“Even better. Spread your legs for me, pretty girl. You know what daddy wants.”

Nina let out a giggle that quickly turned into a muffled moan as she felt Sidney’s tongue gently lick through her pussy, his nose nudging her clit the way she liked it. He ate her slowly, bringing Nina close to the edge but never letting her go. Then Sidney stopped, kissing his way up Nina’s body before kissing her, letting Nina taste herself.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, Nina urged, “Please, Sidney,” managing to keep her voice at a whisper. Before he could answer, they heard some girlish giggles and they both paused.

“I locked the door last night,” Sidney whispered into Nina’s ear. Nina giggled then moaned as she felt Sidney’s fingers spread the cool lube over her pussy. Then he entered her, nice and slow.

“Love you, pretty girl,” Sidney whispered as Nina arched against him. She was clenching around his cock; he wanted to go slow and savor it this morning but Nina had different ideas.

Nina whispered, “Love you, too,” her fingernails digging into his back. Then she squeaked as Sidney withdrew, turning her onto her hands and knees.

“Momma, you promised to make breakfast today.”

Nina straggled into the kitchen, her robe wrapped tightly around her body. “Morg, it’s 9:30 in the morning on a Saturday, it’s still morning.”

Chloe piped up, “You’re usually up before us everyday, Momma.”

Nina shared a look with Sidney who squelched a laugh. He had planned to just go one round with his wife but it turned into three to start off the day right.

Sighing, Nina grabbed bowls to prepare waffles. Morgan added, “Mimi made waffle batter already, Momma.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Nina sincerely stated.

Tracey shrugged. “I figured I’d give you a break since I’ve been gone. You know I love my grand girls.”

Matthew yawned as he walked into the kitchen, his hair sticking up all over his head. “Hi,” he sleepily said before going to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of Gatorade.

“It’s too early for energy drinks, Matt,” Sidney chided.

“Sorry, Dad.”

Matthew was about three weeks from turning twelve and the whole teenage era was coming fast. Now, he was sleeping in and staying up late. Nina sighed, it was too early for one of her babies to grow up.

“I would have woken up earlier but these girls had to jump on my bed at 7am, Dad,” Matthew complained. “They said your door was locked. Why do they always have to bother me?”

“Because we love you, Matty,” Aja said with a mischievous smile. “And some girl sent you messages while you were asleep.”

Matthew glared at his little sister. “Girls are ugly. Especially girls like you.”

Sid and Nina shared a look. Sid just had “the talk” with Matthew and they were both happy he still saw girls as ugly, at least for now. Tracey said, “Oh baby, that’s no way to talk to your little sister.”

“I’m sorry, Mimi,” Matthew said, giving his grandmother a kiss. “Momma, can we have blueberry waffles today?”

“Plain waffles,” Nina said firmly. “You can add blueberries, strawberries, or peaches as a fruit topping.”

“No chocolate chips?”

Chloe and Morgan gave their mother their biggest puppy-dog eyes. Nina shook her head. They then give Sidney the same look, saying together, “Daddy, can we have chocolate chips with our waffles?”

Sidney laughed as he picked up two of his girls. “You two already know the answer to that!”

Chloe pouted as Morgan laughed at the silly faces Sidney was making. Sidney added, “It’s Saturday so you know today is ice cream day after dinner. Did anyone feed Maddie?”

Nina giggled as she turned on the grill. At the mention of her name, Maddie, their dog, ran into the kitchen. Pharaoh, their cat, followed Maddie in, stretching before walking around her legs. As her family noisily talked, Nina sighed in happiness. She loved her family, life was perfect.

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marvel-and-mischief · 3 years

Text

Purple Carnations

Part of my Floriography Series

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader Words: 1700 Warnings: eating meat, preparing dead rabbits for eating, nudity but not sexual, a swear word Synopsis: You come across an angry stranger bathing in the river

Purple Carnations: capriciousness

💐

The setting sun could be seen through the thin gaps between the trees, casting shadows throughout the woods you were standing in. Birds were settling into their nests with their chicks and dogs were howling in the distance as you trod silently over roots and tried to stay clear of crisp leaves and twigs that would alert anyone, or anything, to your presence.

You fingered the bow in your hand, clenching and unclenching your hand around the wood and feeling the weight in preparation of its use. The few arrows in the quiver on your back slid against each other when you moved too quickly, it reminded you that you needed to make more after tonight.

The only other sound you could hear was that of the river running along the edge of the woods. The water was calm and you ventured closer in the hope that an animal was taking a drink. It would be an easy catch, you’d be able to get back home before the sky turned dark and the wolves began to roam the area. Luck was rarely on your side but what you saw was more than unlucky, it was downright cruel.

A man was bathing in the shallow end of the river, back facing you and his bottom half, fortunately, concealed underneath the water. You were unable to take your eyes off the silver scars that lined his skin and tense muscles that flexed under his movements. And his hands, they were scarily large as they carded through black, wet hair, and it brought you out of your embarrassing state when you thought of this man noticing you spying on him and using those hands in punishment.

You felt yourself flush and in your haste to quickly disappear unnoticed your foot caught on a wayward tree branch, causing you to squeak in surprise and reach out to steady yourself against a large rock.

“Hey you!” came an angry shout from the river and you knew you had been caught. You spun back around to see the man facing you, his teeth clenched and face twisted into a furious scowl. “You think you can spy on me you -“

“Spy on you?” you scoffed in retaliation, suddenly feeling brave in the face of a man that could definitely beat you in a physical fight. You pulled an arrow out of your quiver and notched it into your bow but kept the weapon lowered, a precaution incase he came towards you. You had the high ground and a weapon that could reach him from afar and that gave you the confidence to answer back. “You must think very highly of yourself, Sir, if you think I was spying on you.”

“Then what were you doing?” He eyed his clothes that sat in a bundle a few feet from where you stood. You caught a shine of silver in amongst the fabrics and you knew immediately that he wasn’t worried about his dignity, he was keeping an eye on the weapons concealed at the bottom of the pile.

“I am looking for my supper,” you wiggled the bow in your hand and gave him a look that said ‘isn’t it obvious?’, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“Says who? You?” he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest as if he only just realised he was naked in front of you.

“Yes, says me,” you huffed in frustration.

The man grumbled something under his breath but didn’t move.

“I saw some deer on my route here, a mile that way,” the man pointed in the opposite direction to which you came, “I will be gone by the time you get back.”

Part of you felt bad for making such a fuss about this stranger being here, you didn’t own these woods after all, but the other part of you knew that you couldn’t trust strangers travelling through the path you frequently used and was so close to your home.

You paused a little too long and the mans patience was wearing thin.

“Or you can stay here and continue to watch me bathe,” he growled, and you heard the underlying threat in his words: when I am finished here, I will fight you.

“If I see you again I will not hesitate to let my arrow fly towards you.”

“My knife will be in your back before you get the chance.”

You rolled your eyes at his quip, not willing to argue that an arrow can fly quicker than a knife or that you knew you were closer to his weapons than he was, and left to find your supper.

You hear his frustrated grunts before you see him. You crept closer to see the man you had stumbled upon in the river just the day before, struggling to light a fire. The sparks he was trying to create weren’t enough to light the kindling he’d bundled together in front of him, and the more he became annoyed the more he was hitting his thumb rather than the flint in his hand.

You noticed the dead rabbits at his feet and subconsciously licked your lips. Maybe you could both help each other out this night.

“Do you need a fire?” Your question had him pulling his sword from his belt and pointing it in your direction which was, fortunately, far enough away that he couldn’t hurt you with it.

“I am beginning to think you are not just a pain in my ass but also a bad omen,” the man lowered his sword slowly once he recognised who you were.

“I think this is rather good luck actually,” you countered with a small smirk. You crossed your arms and leaned against a tree just as a rumble of thunder sounded overhead.

“What do you want?”

“You have food, I have fire, we should work together to not go hungry another night.”

“No luck with the deer?”

You shook your head sadly. This man hadn’t been lying, when you reached the area he had told you about there was plenty of evidence of the animals having been there, but there had also been proof of people, other hunters that had gotten there first.

The man seemed to be thinking seriously on your offer, looking forlornly at the piece of flint and metal in his hand. Another crash of thunder had him making up his mind.

“We have a deal,” the man picked up his belongings, along with the rabbits, and motioned for you to lead the way.

“It is only fair you share what you caught in my part of the woods,” you failed to hide the humor in your tone but it had the desired effect. The man huffed next to you.

“I do not see anywhere that states these are your woods,” he mumbled loud enough for you to hear. The rabbits in his hand swung into your leg annoyingly, and you were sure he was doing it on purpose.

“What is your name?” you asked just as your cottage was coming into sight over the hill.

“Pero.”

You told him your name and walked the rest of the way in silence.

Your cottage was small, only one room with a bed in the corner and a fire that took up most of one wall. Baskets scattered the floor holding everything you had foraged from the woods, mushrooms and berries, plants for medicines, vegetables from your garden.

You headed straight to the fireplace to get it started but kept one eye on your new acquaintance as you got to work.

Pero was studying your little cottage from where he awkwardly stood by your door. With your foot you pushed a stool in front of the fire.

“Sit, get comfortable, ready the rabbits for the fire.”

You thought by giving his something useful to do he would feel more comfortable, and it worked for a while. He skinned the animals and placed them on the metal spit you passed to him and then hooked them over the fire.

“Why does your husband not hunt for you?”

The question took you by surprise. It was obvious you were the only person who lived in this cottage, the bed only big enough for one, hunting for your own food, and bringing him back to your cottage was more than enough confirmation that you were not married.

“Because he does not exist,” you replied bluntly.

Pero reached out to turn the rabbits around but said no more.

“Why does your wife not keep you in check?”

Pero’s dark eyes glared at you.

“She does not exist.”

You pretended to nod thoughtfully, only to receive a huff of laughter from your usually moody friend.

“You are not from this land.”

A thoughtful look crossed Pero’s features as he turned his attention back to the fire.

“I have not belonged to any land for a long time.”

There was a sadness to his tone that you couldn’t help but pity. You hid it well, you didn’t think he would appreciate pity from a stranger.

“Why are you here?”

“Looking for work. You ask a lot of questions.”

“You are the first person I have spoken to in months.”

You found yourself opening up to Pero over supper. He listened in genuine interest as you showed him the many plants you had found in the woods, telling him what each of them did for different ailments. He told you about someone he once knew who could wield a bow better than anyone. You argued with him then, promising to demonstrate what a great shot you were the next time you went hunting. However it went unspoken whether Pero would be sticking around to see that.

You were nervous to go to sleep that evening. Pero was your only friend in a long while and you had a feeling he would be gone by morning. Pero mistook your nerves for his presence in your home, so he crossed the room in a couple of strides and handed you his dagger.

“So you feel safe with me here,” he explained and moved to make himself comfortable in front of the door, covered in a blanket you had given to him.

Pero watched you lit up in the dying flames of the fire, a content smile on his lips as your breathing evened out and you fell asleep. He was undecided whether or not to leave before sunrise, but for now he would fall into the best nights sleep of his life.

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell @computeringturtle @anu-simps @bts17army

#Floriography Series #Pero #Pero Tovar #Tovar #Pero x Reader #Tovar x Reader #Pero Tovar x Reader #The Great Wall #Pedro Pascal

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dilly-oh · 3 years

Text

Trashy Romance Novel

“Naruto, you frigging idiot,” Iruka began hotly, barging into the hospital room, “of all the stupid, brainless things you could have done, this is by far the-”

He stopped.

The person lying in the small bed was definitely not Naruto. It was a grown-ass man with messy gray hair and a faded scar over one eye, the sterile white sheets pulled up over his nose, apparently sound asleep. Iruka stared at him for a long moment, dumbfounded, before it clicked.

Oh shit, he thought. This is the wrong room. I'm in the wrong room. I need to hurry up and leave before-

The stranger's eyes cracked open and he squinted up at Iruka in confusion.

“...Who're you?” he croaked out. Iruka managed a rather articulate gurgle of dismay, frozen in sheer mortification. He considered the distance between him and the IV drip, wondering if he could dose the man back to unconsciousness before he could scream or buzz for a nurse. “Are those for me?” the man asked, sitting up in bed to regard the bouquet of flowers in Iruka's arms. He opened his mouth to disagree, but then the sheet slipped off the man's face, and Iruka suddenly thought giving him the flowers might not be such a bad idea. He definitely deserved a thank you after gifting him with...that. He didn't even protest as the alarmingly handsome stranger reached out and took the bundle of flowers, opening the card on top.

“You're a dumbass. Love, Iruka.” he read aloud, then looked up at Iruka, batting his eyes. “Aww, babe, you shouldn't have.”

“Whoa whoa WHOA!” Iruka finally blurted out, his face burning half from embarrassment at the situation, half from the thinly-veiled flirting. “I'm sorry, sir, there's been a mistake. I'm in the wrong room and-”

“You mean you aren't my doting husband I tragically forgot about due to amnesia and now you have to win back my love by passionately recreating the story of our romantic union?”

“Excuse me, WHAT-”

“Sorry, I've been reading trashy romance novels. They're the only books this hospital has. Can't blame me for trying.” The man shrugged, then reluctantly handed back the bouquet. “Who's the lucky person they're actually for? Must be someone real special if you're calling them a dumbass to their face.”

“My kid brother,” Iruka explained with a sigh. “He's here with a head injury.”

“Ouch.” The man winced in sympathy. “Poor kid.”

“Not really. He head-butted a brick wall.”

“...May I ask why?”

“Because his stupid boyfriend walked into it and he had to, and I quote, 'defend his honor'.” Iruka paused, looking the man up and down. Despite being a bit on the pale side, he looked perfectly fine, pun very much intended. It was almost unfair how well he pulled off the hospital gown (although Iruka would much rather be the one pulling it off, wink wink, nudge nudge). “So...what're you in for?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Was...was it the crappy romance novels? Did they rot your brain?”

“I have an extremely rare, aggressive form of cancer with only two weeks left to live and the only cure is a kiss from my one true love...” The man swooned back onto the pillow and looked expectantly up at Iruka, who rolled his eyes.

“Yeah they definitely did-”

“Alright you got me. Broke my leg.” He pulled the sheet off his lower half, revealing his legs, one of which was wrapped in a cast, propped up on some pillows. Several encouraging words from friends were scrawled on the white surface in marker, one of them a jarring green highlighter. It almost hurt Iruka's eyes to look at it.

“...How did you break it?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

“I heroically threw myself in front of a speeding car in order to save the life of my beloved-”

“Okay how did you really break it?”

“Tripped chasing after my pug at the park,” the man admitted with a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“...Is the dog okay?” Iruka asked after a long pause.

The stranger burst out laughing. It was a nice laugh, warm and contagious enough to elicit a chuckle out of Iruka, who was growing more and more intrigued. He couldn't deny the spark of attraction he felt for the other man, spontaneous as it was, and it seemed to be reciprocated. He didn't even know his name, but something about the man made Iruka want to know more about him. Maybe this was like some trashy romance novel, where the two would-be lovers met under unusual circumstances and fell instantly in-

“Hey, Kakashi,” a man with short brown hair said, suddenly walking into the room, “I brought the next three volumes of your shitty porn series from the hospital library and a couple pairs of clean underwear, so you can stop fucking texting me the specific style and brand you want from home, you're so damn picky-” He stopped dead as he caught sight of Iruka, pausing for a beat, then glanced at the man in the bed, his eyes darting nervously between the two. “Umm...am I...interrupting something?”

A cold pit of ice yawned open in Iruka's stomach.

Oh my GOD. Here he was, borderline flirting with some stranger in a random hospital room, when obviously the man already had a boyfriend and Iruka was just making a complete ass of himself. The flirting had probably been misinterpretation on his part anyway, and if not, the guy was a total dick. Either way, enough was enough. His face aflame with rage and shame, Iruka spun towards the door.

“I need to go.”

“Hey, wait!” Kakashi or whatever his name was called after him.

Iruka was already out the door, ignoring the man's cries. Screw him, and screw Naruto, too. He was the cause of this whole mess. Iruka would just text him later. He was probably making out with Sasuke anyway and wouldn't even notice his brother hadn't popped in to visit. Iruka needed out of this hospital NOW. He turned towards the stairs, immediately got lost, and spent the next five minutes growing increasingly flustered as he stormed through the winding hallways, desperately searching for the exit. Why the fuck was the hospital so damn BIG-

“Hey! Iruka! Hold up!”

Iruka spun around to see Kakashi speeding towards him in a wheelchair, his boyfriend dutifully pushing him down the hallway at a dead run, IV dangling after him on its cord like a faithful dog. The wheelchair stopped with an audible squeal in front of him.

“What- where did- did you steal that?!” Iruka hissed in outrage.

“Of course not, don't be silly,” Kakashi protested, sounding offended. “The guy it belongs to was asleep in his bed. I'm just borrowing it. I'll return it later. Anyway, Iruka-”

“Were you flirting with me in there?” Iruka demanded, cutting him off. “Be honest.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Kakashi said without an ounce of remorse. “So can I have your number or what?” Iruka bristled.

“You're a piece of shit! I can't believe you, hitting on me like this right in front of your boyfriend! You have some nerve-”

“Wait...boyfriend?” Kakashi cocked his head in confusion. “You mean Yams?”

“The fuck do YAMS have to do with anything-”

“Hi, that's me,” the short-haired man said, raising a hand. “Yamato, actually. 'Yams' to my friends. Which is what we are. Just...friends.” Iruka scowled at him suspiciously.

“Friends? Don't fuck with me. You brought him underwear-”

“Really close friends,” Yamato reiterated. “Also, roommates. It's awful. I can't get away from him.” Iruka studied him for a moment, but couldn't spot any hint of deception. The man's almond-shaped eyes were surprisingly honest.

“So you two...aren't dating?” he asked hesitantly. Yamato gave him a horrified look.

“Dear God, NO. Kakashi is the WORST. He's lazy as hell, procrastinates til the last minute, is perpetually late to everything-”

“You are a shit wingman-” Kakashi began.

“He needs to know what he's getting into,” Yamato snapped at him, then turned back to Iruka. “Seriously, though. You should run while you still can. There's hope for you.”

“Don't listen to him,” Kakashi cut in. “I'm a fucking catch. Which is exactly why you should let your flaxen hair down, rip your shirt open to reveal your heaving bosom, and throw yourself into my arms-”

“Will you cut that out?!” Iruka burst out impatiently. “Life is not a trashy romance novel.”

“You sure about that?” Kakashi said, quirking an eyebrow. “Because I met you in a hospital through total coincidence. After really hitting it off, we had a misunderstanding brought on by miscommunication. Then I chased after you in a fucking wheelchair to declare my undying attraction to you. If that isn't a plot to a trashy romance novel, I don't know what the fuck is. At least it's not raining right now.”

“I dunno, it might be drizzling,” Yamato said, glancing at a window.

Iruka paused, considering.

“I guess it...would make a pretty good book,” he admitted quietly. “The only thing is...I'm not sure what happens next.”

“That part's for us to write,” Kakashi said, his tone eager. “Only we can complete the story.”

“Aaaaand I'm going to puke,” Yamato stated.

“Sorry, we crossed the line from 'trashy' into 'sappy'.” Kakashi shook his head. “Anyway. Iruka. Please, I'm begging you. Let me sweep you off your feet. Just...give me a chance.”

“I'll do you one better,” Iruka said after a pause. “I'll give you my number.” Stealing a marker from the nearby nurse's station, he bent and wrote his cell number on Kakashi's cast, then straightened and held out the bouquet. “Here, you can have these. The message works for you too, I guess.”

Kakashi accepted the flowers with a laugh, taking an appreciative sniff.

“And now, I shall ride dramatically off into the sunset,” he said with complete seriousness. “Come, my valiant steed. Awaaaay!”

“I will push you down the stairs,” Yamato grumbled as he spun the wheelchair around and started back down the hallway. Iruka watched them go with a fond smile on his face, giddy with anticipation.

He was eager to read the next few chapters in his life.

Including the steamy bits.

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Twelve Prompt: Hospitals)

#kakairu #KakaIru Month 2021 #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #naruto #hospital au #crappy romance novels #all the cliches

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coping-via-clint-eastwood · 3 years

Text

Unrestrained Summer Fun - canon-divergent Gil Grissom x Reader

(A/N: Thought I'd get this one out quick since it's the hottest part of the year. This is gonna be in 2 parts again. Sara doesn't exist in this fic {because I personally can't imagine Gil having a deep romantic interest in anyone else if she did}. Also, this is c-d in the sense that supervisor-subordinate relationships are allowed. And, maybe some ooc. Warning - this is...probably sickeningly sappy. I'm too deeply in love with him for my own good.

As always, @addictedtostorytelling saved my ass with the meta, and @davesdude80 helped me with Gil's walk :) Thank you.

One more person on the taglist: @stokes-theorem)

It was 3 in the afternoon, the hottest hour of the day, in the hottest season of the year. Gil and you had climbed into bed an hour ago to try and bag eight hours of sleep before having to get up at 10, since your shift started at 11. Unfortunately, the heat had kept the both of you awake. Even Hank had dashed down to the kitchen, emptied the contents of his water bowl onto the floor, and rolled around in it. Neither of you had had the heart to stop him. He was currently sleeping in the puddle.

As for you humans, you were lying on top of the blanket. The air conditioner was on a moderate setting. However, that still was not enough. You groaned, "It's still so hot..."

"Maybe, we should let go of each other," your husband joked.

You looked at him pointedly. "No." That made him laugh. You put a hand on his chest and took a bunch of the cloth of his shirt in your hand. "You should take your shirt off."

He nodded his head to one side, and swept his tongue over his drying lips. "Alright." He scooted a little ways away from you and did what you said. He tossed his shirt to the foot of the bed. You moved your eyes up and down his body. Gil smiled; he appreciated that you found him attractive. He would never admit it even to himself, but he was self-conscious about the fact that he was not stereotypically attractive. So it warmed his heart to have you look at him the way you did.

Of course, you knew how he felt. You put your hands on his chest and, closing your eyes, kissed him. He let his eyes fall shut too as he returned the kiss, his hands staying on the bed. You slid your hands down to his abdomen. "You're beautiful," you whispered. In return, he put a hand on your cheek. He gently bumped his forehead against yours. You instinctively shifted closer to him.

Feeling your shirt on his bare skin reminded him of something. He gently gave a few tugs on your collar. "You should take this off." You smiled at his imitation. You rolled back and took your shirt off, pulling it by the collar. You lobbed it next to his. "You look good."

It was your turn to smile. "Thank you." You snuggled back into him.

"Let's hope we can sleep now..." he sighed, closing his eyes as he held you.

"Yeah..." you huffed as well.

However, try as you might, the both of you tossed and turned all afternoon. Adjusting the air conditioner to a lower temperature made it too cold, and yet when you moved under the blankets it was too hot.

At one of the many points when you were looking at him, you ran your hand up his beard then through his hair. "It's not fair..." you mused.

"What?" he enquired with a raised eyebrow, a little humoured.

"Your hair is white. You don't retain as much heat."

That made him chuckle. "That doesn't make much of a difference."

Several hours later, you lay flat on your back on top of the blanket, away from your husband. You groaned and put your forearm over your eyes. "We are never gonna sleep..."

"I'm sorry." He said this because he was much more used to foregoing sleep than you were.

You turned over to your front with a grunt. "What time is it?"

He checked the digital clock on his nightstand (you had an analog clock on yours, but you did not want to move anymore). "It's seven."

You sighed heavily; he observed your back heaving. "Great..."

"We might as well eat our dinner; make the most of it and take our time to get ready."

You sighed through your nose. "Yeah..." you nodded, "...you're right..."

"You can lie down a little longer while I shower."

You turned over to face him. "Thanks..."

He was sitting up as you said that. "You're welcome." He stood up and, knowing what you would want, walked to the foot of the bed and threw his shirt into your waiting hands. You grinned at him. He set out clothes for himself, and did so for you too. You squeezed his hand in thanks. With that done, he went to shower, while you put his shirt over your nose and mouth. You inhaled deeply and closed your eyes, then let out a long sigh. His smell relaxed you. You just lay like that, taking deep, calming breaths.

You did not even hear the water stop running, or the door opening several minutes after that. The cold air from his shower mixed with the air conditioning of the room, so you did not notice the humidity. It was only when he tapped your shoulder that you were brought back to consciousness and looked at him. "O-oh!" you exclaimed softly, pivoting up into a sitting position and turning out of bed, darting past him into the bathroom; the image of him with the towel hanging on his shoulder, his arm still down and out towards you, and his eyebrow raised and mouth ajar as you cut off his necessity to speak to you, registered only when you were some ways into your shower. You stopped and let yourself smile at that picture.

When you came out of the shower, he was not in the room. You got dressed and went down to the kitchen. Gil was eating a slice of watermelon from the refrigerator, and there was a plate with more on it for you to share; the both of you consumed a lot of cold fruits during the summer. Hank had been given moist pellets, as well as some watermelon of his own. Your man had also placed your kits at the front door, along with his straw hat, sunglasses, and your satchel, which contained your sunglasses. While he preferred his straw hat to the department-issue baseball cap in hot weather, you were content to use the cap in whatever situation.

Even when you joined your husband, neither of you spoke, not wanting to exert energy unnecessarily. You cleaned up when all three parties were finished eating. You told Gil, "I'm driving." You had to state it first; he would have driven your car so as to let the engine run, but it would still have been him driving for the fourth time in a row, and that would not have been fair. Well, to you at least - he insisted that he loved doing things for you. It was how he showed his love, whereas you did so to him via physical affection. But still, you wanted to do things in return.

Thus, Gil placed his hat on his head, put his sunglasses in his breast pocket, took Hank and his kit to your car, and sat in the backseat with the dog. You followed soon after, taking your kit and bag, locking the front door, and getting behind the wheel. Gil tossed you the keys, and you started the drive to the dogs' daycare. You took as many detours as you pleased, not being in any particular hurry. Since you were the one driving, Gil brought Hank inside the building, then came back and sat in the front passenger's seat. You drove to the laboratory, taking some more detours.

At the laboratory, you and your husband hung out idly in his office, sipping on the contents of mineral water bottles which the team took turns to stock the refrigerator with. At 10:55, the both of you strolled to the front desk to check in. Then the journey was made back to Gil's office, while he waited for any calls from Jim. At 2:30 am, a case did come up, and so it was handed to Catherine, Warrick and Nick, leaving Greg, your husband and yourself. The three of you decided to get breakfast for the team.

Upon returning from your errand, you tried to nap on Gil's couch (while he read A Midsummer Night's Dream at his desk), but the leather made you sweat even more. You grumbled and slogged your way to the break room, where you sat on a chair and attempted to sleep sitting up. But it was not really comfortable, and you could not even doze off for five minutes. The whole time, you were dreading something: that Gil would get another call just as shift was about to end.

6 o' clock rolled around. Greg headed into the break room, reading a book on Vegas history while walking. He had intended to take an apple out of the refrigerator, but upon noticing your misery, he helped heat up the omelette you had ordered in the microwave. You had your head down and were drifting in and out of consciousness, so just barely noticed it, but you did not process it. Even when he set the plate and your mug of chocolate from the fridge in front of you, you remained in a discount coma. He tentatively tapped your shoulder with one finger. That made you interject and snap your head up, your back slamming against that of the chair. So only physical contact could stimulate you.

"Hey..." he said softy, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You sighed and buried your head in your hands, elbows on the table. "Thank you..." you murmured, the vague registrations of stimuli having been solidified when you woke up.

"Don't mention it. Eat up." He rubbed your upper back, and continued to do so as you ate, knowing that you loved the contact.

On your third bite however, the shift supervisor came into the break room. "Hey guys, we got a four-nineteen..." he looked at you sympathetically, "it's out in the desert."

"Nooooo," you groaned, tilting your head back. Greg could not help but laugh. "Nooooooooo..."

Gil was used to your antics, so he calmly asked, "Okay...what's your specific complaint?"

"It's gonna be so hot! It's not dark anymore! And I don't have a water bottle!" Plastic water bottles degraded in ultraviolet light, secreting toxins.

"Well...you can always share mine," he reminded you.

You quietened when he said that. Then, you sprung up from your seat and darted over to him. You threw your arms around his neck and put your face in his chest, making him grip your waist reflexively, but his cheeks turned red when you let out a, "Yes, hubby."

Greg laughed even harder. " 'Hubby' ?" he questioned through his chortling.

"During times of physical or emotional discomfort, she is not very...restrained," he attempted to explain. With how smoothly he spoke, the only reason his blush could not be passed off as sunburn was that he had not actually been out in the sun.

Greg pressed a fist to his mouth to try to stifle his laughter, looking away and waving his other hand in dismissal. "It's alright. It's cute, actually. It's just surprising to have someone call you that."

"I know. But," he shrugged, "I've come to like it." You had remained docile, but now you smiled to yourself and turned your head up to kiss his neck.

Greg's smile turned sweet. "That's good."

Your husband guided you to sit down again. "Finish your food, then we'll go." You gave a nod, then got back to eating. Grissom looked at the other CSI, "You wanna grab something to eat as well?"

"Yeah," he replied, turning around to the refrigerator, "I came for an apple, actually." He took his fruit out at last. Gil got his pancakes out of the fridge too, and had orange juice to drink.

The three of you finished eating and drinking in under four minutes. But the drive out to the crime scenes took about an hour, and by the time you got there, the sun was high in the sky. "Dayshift should be handling this," you grumbled. You did not mean it of course, but you felt like grumbling.

"Yeah? Don't worry, it'll all be over soon," your husband joked lamely. Greg, who was ahead and trying not to slide down a sand hill, gave him a dirty look (he dared to do so because he was wearing sunglasses).

For this case, it was necessary to stay for a considerable length time at the scene, because there were footprints to be moulded, little cufflinks and keys and such which had been buried and had to be dug up, and so on. Not so ironically, your unpleasant mood made it best for you to spend more time processing the scene while Grissom and Greg did the talking to people. Unfortunately but predictably, the extended period of time spent in the heat you hated made you feel worse than ever.

Several shifts later, the case was solved. You were sitting on the guest's chair in Gil's office, waiting for him (and Greg) to return from the police station. You had your upper torso on the table, arms stretched out all the way to the opposite edge. You heard footsteps enter the room, but they were not Gil's. You did not know whose they were, but they were definitely not those of the man you loved. "I thought I'd find you here," Greg's voice said, making you turn around.

"Where's Gil?" You sounded a bit sad; you missed him.

"He's talking to Catherine, presumably about work," he dutifully told you, raising a fist and sticking his thumb in their general direction. He put his hand down. "How're you doing?" You plopped back down, exactly as you had been. That gave Greg all the answer he needed. "Grissom will be here soon," he reassured you. You nodded, your cheek rubbing against the desk. "You want my company til he comes?" You shook your head. "Okay. I hope you feel better soon." You gave a nod of thanks.

A little earlier:

Grissom and Greg walked through the doors of the laboratory, coming upon Catherine in the foyer; she was just heading out. Grissom called out, "Hey Catherine."

"Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you?"

Greg spoke up, "I'll go on ahead first. Bye Catherine."

"See ya." Greg made his way to his boss' office. "So, what do ya wanna talk about?" Gil looked around, then took Catherine's elbow and guided her to somewhere more secluded. He looked Catherine in the eyes, but still hesitated, nervously fidgeting his fingers against each other. "What is it, Gil? C'mon, you can tell me," she encouraged.

He swallowed, then finally said, "I need a favour."

Catherine raised an eyebrow; was that it? "S-ure," she said casually, shrugging.

"It involves Sam."

Mugs chuckled. "That's why you're so nervous; you're always on about me accepting favours from Sam, and now you want me to do it." She smiled and shrugged. "I don't mind. What d'you need?"

Grissom smiled a small smile of relief. "During our next shift, could Sam keep one of his pools open at three? Just for (y/n) and me. And uh," he looked away out of shyness, "no surveillance. There can be guards on the premises but...I'd prefer to be left alone." Catherine was impressed, to say the least; it was heartwarming that he was doing this for his wife. However, he was still saying, "Meaning no cameras, and the guards-"

Catherine laughed softly and raised her hands to stop him. "Gil, Gil, I get it." He closed his mouth. Knowing that he was still doubtful, she stated, "No humans or cameras on within viewing distance of the pool."

Finally, Gil gave a long, slow nod. "You'll have to cover that shift for me too."

"You're letting Sam do something for me and I get to play boss girl? You're sure you're not the one doing me a favour?" she chirped. Grissom gave a small smile and slightly dipped his head in thanks, then walked off.

Back to you:

The sound you were waiting for was heard. Soft, shy treads which you found endearing padded their way over to you. "Hey," he said lovingly, and you felt his hand on the part of your back that was flat immediately after that. You remained silent. "We'll take the next shift off, okay?"

That made you perk up - literally. Your head snapped up so you could look at him. " 'We' ? You'll be taking a shift off with me?"

He smiled fondly at you. "Yes. We can spend some time together."

You returned his smile. You stood up and hugged him, arms around his neck and face in his chest. This time, he fastened his arms around your waist. "Thank you," you whispered. His heart flipped, because that reminded him of his conversation with Catherine.

"Let's go home," he whispered, but before he let go of you, he quickly kissed you, knowing that you wanted it. The way you pressed your flushed face into his chest to hide it only made that clearer. He moved one hand to cradle your head, letting you calm down. He found it curious how you could still be bashful when he showed you affection in particular ways. But perhaps...he was similar. The both of you picked Hank up from the daycare, went home, ate, walked Hank, showered, and fell into a deep sleep.

#gil grissom x reader #gil grissom loving #gil grissom #billy petersen loving #billy petersen #william petersen #csi #c-v-c-e fic

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stories-marvel · 3 years

Text

Best friends

Summary: Where yours and Chris’s daughter is best friends with dodger.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Warnings: Fluff! Cuteness overload, mentions of breastfeeding, mentions of getting naked, one bad word.

A/n: I love fluff and the thought of dodger being best friends with Chris's daughter just sounds awesome to me.

You are currently sitting on your bed watching Netflix with dodger and Isabella. A few minutes ago you got into bed with Isabella laying on your chest. When dodger saw you, or rather, Isabella being moved into yours and Chris’s bedroom, he naturally followed. Isabella and Dodger have a really good friendship.

Ever since you gave birth to her several months ago and brought her home, Dodger was immediately in love with her. He would always lick her face when she cried. He couldn't sleep unless he was next to her crib or close to her. And she always cried when Dodger wasn't there to play with her.

Chris and you are always ogling over how cute their friendship is. The way Isabella makes cute giggling sounds when Dodger plays with her. The way she smiles when he licks her face. Your favorite part of the day is to watch your daughter, your husband, and your dog spending time together.

“Honey, I’m home!” You hear Chris yell and then the front door shut.

“Upstairs!” You gently yell back. Trying not to make your daughter cry. You smile down at your baby snuggled up next to dodger, with his head laying down protectively over her legs.

You continue to watch ‘the vampire diaries’ and sit back more against the headboard. After a few seconds you hear footsteps making their way upstairs and start towards the bedroom.

“Hey baby.” Chris says as he enters the bedroom. You look over at him and smile at how cute he looks.

“You look cute.” You state. You see a blush spread across his cheeks as you stand up and walk towards him.

“Why thank you. So do you.” He replies. You smile and wrap your arms around his neck, him wrapping his bulky arms around your waist after. You lean in and plant a kiss on his lips.

“I missed you, Isabella, and Dodger today.” Chris says against your lips. You place another kiss to his lips.

“We missed you too.” You say against his lips then continue to kiss him.

You both pull away from each other when you hear the sudden noise of your daughters very loud giggles and baby noises. You both look over at the bed and smile at the sight before you.

Isabella is sitting up straight with Dodger in front of her. He is licking her face while she giggles and plays with him. You and Chris turn to each other with wide grins on your faces. Chris quickly takes out his phone and takes a picture. ----------------

“Hey there sweet girl. You hungry?” You ask as Isabella starts to get fussy. As the words leave your mouth her grumbles and her screams start getting louder. When the screams leave her mouth, Dodger almost immediately comes running into the room to see if she is okay.

You smile and pick Isabella up and place her in your lap. You pull up your shirt to reveal one of your breasts and hold your baby in place in front of your breast. Once she opens her mouth you carefully move her head closer to your breast and she latches on.

Once you know that she is getting milk you sit back and smile at your kid.

“I could hear her being fussy from downstairs. So I'm guessing she was just hungry.” Chris says as he appears in the doorway. You look at him and chuckle.

“Yeah. When she started screaming Dodger ran in to make sure his best friend was okay.” Chris laughs and walks over to the bed. He pets Dodger, who is now laying on your legs with his head resting on your lap.

“I'm sorry, did Isabella interrupt your interview with jimmy?” You ask. Chris shakes his head as he sits next to you and looks at the baby.

“No, as soon as she started crying the interview ended.” He says. You smile and look down at Isabella. Chris chuckles and kissed your cheek.

“She looks so determined.” He whispers in your ear. You laugh and turn towards Chris.

“She gets her determined face from you. You make the same face.” You state. He scrunches his eyebrows together as he looks at your kid closer.

“I do not.”

“Yes you do.” You argue. He shakes his head but cant help but smile.

After about 20 minutes or so of Isabella breastfeeding and you and Chris watching a movie Isabella lets go of your nipple and moves around in your arms. Probably wanting to play with Dodger now.

“You done eating now Izzy?” Chris asks. She makes baby noises and nods her head.

“Alright, lets let mama watch that movie and lets get in the bath.” He says before picking her up and walking into the bathroom. Dodger obviously following. You smile as you hear Isabella's little baby noises as Chris turns on the water.

After a few minutes you decide to check up on Chris and Isabella. You move the blanket off of your legs and walk towards the bathroom. You knock on the door before opening it and peaking your head in.

The sight before you instantly warming your heart. Chris is sitting in the bath, naked and with Isabella splashing the bubbled water around. Dodger is sitting on the floor patiently with his head resting on the side of the bath.

“You guys having fun in here?” You ask. Chris looks over with you and smiles. Isabella makes more baby noises and starts to spread some bubbles on her daddy’s face.

Dodger barks causing Isabella to turn around and stumble towards where Dodger is.

“Dodgwer!” You hear your baby girl say. Both you and Chris look at each other with huge smiles on your faces.

“You said your first word!” You exclaim as you walk over towards the bath and kneel down on the floor. Chris smiles at Isabella, who is still petting the now super excited pup in front of her.

“She said her first word.” Chris says. You turn towards him and smile. He leans in and presses a kiss to your lips.

“We did good with her.” You state as you pull away from his lips. He smiles and nods.

The rest of the night went on with you Chris and Isabella cuddled up together and watching your daughters favorite Disney movie. While Dodger sits at Isabella's feet and playing with his lion toy.

You and Chris couldn't get over the fact that your daughters first words were Dodger. You always expected your daughters first words to be either Mama or Dada. But no, she said Dodger. And the whole night Dodger had a look that said ‘I told you she would say my name’ plastered into his eyes, every time he would look at Chris. Chris almost immediately got what Dodger was trying to say. And it was funny as hell to you.

#daughter #firstwords #babygirl #dodger #chrisevansxreader #mom #daddyevans #fluff #bath #bestfriends #dog #isabella #vampirediaries #actor #disneymovies

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l00katst4rs · 3 years

Text

Kiss Me Under The Artificial Lighting

Tom was sitting in his room and decided to open up his email, and saw one new email, from one of his old classmates...? He clicked it open and saw, Benjamin Taveras had invited him to a high school reunion.

"Hello, dear Classmates,

It's been a hot minute since I've seen you guys! So, I have helped to set up our high school reunion! You are allowed to bring your bf/gf/husband/wife But please don't bring any children! There will be alcohol and it will be running very late at night! So, McKenna, I suggest you hire a babysitter 😅

It will be at Bradford High, aka ✨Hell✨ On January 29th, Starting at 4:30 PM, and running until we get shut down 😎

Anyway, I hope to see you all very soon! And you aren't required to bring a date unless you made a bet, you know who you are *Cough* TOM ! *Cough* See You all very soon🥺🥰

-Benjamin T"

Tom groaned, he fucking hated Benjamin, and now the dickhead was going to make him stick with a bet he made in high school!? This was just plain dumb. How in the world was Tom, Tom of all people going to find a date to go to a crappy high school reunion with on such short notice, and he doubted he could pass Susan off as his date. He sat on his bed, glaring at the stupid email, from Stupid Benjamin, although he will admit, the part about McKenna did make him laugh a little, but still he had one week to find a date, or else he was in trouble...

Somebody knocked on his door

"Tooooommm!"

Tom laid down, recognizing the accent, of course, it was Tord, today was just not a good day to be Tom.

"Tommmm, I know you're in thereeeeeee," he called out to him in a sing-songy voice.

Tom groaned and glared at the door

"What do you want commie?"

Tord scoffed "I don't know, I'm bored, annoying you felt like a good option!"

Tom laughed a little, he was good at being annoying, that's for sure

"Can I come in?"

Tom quickly closed his laptop and put it on his nightstand

"Yeah, whatever..."

Tord smiled and flung open the door, before coming in, and plopping down next to Tom on his bed

"I'm bored, what are we doing?"

Tom glared at him " We aren't doing anything."

Tord looked at him with big puppy dog eyes "Please Tom, I'm boreddddddd"

Tom was quiet for a moment as if he was thinking. "Fine, What do you want to do?"

Tord was quiet or a moment

"I don't know...We could watch you lose at a board game!"

"I don't always lose!"

"Of course, whatever you say, Wanna play Settlers of Catan?"

Tom smiled, glad that he had chosen a game that was more based on luck rather than strategy, although it was always a good idea to have some sort of strategy.

"Sure"

Tord smiled, standing up, and left to get the game box

Tom sighed, and grabbed his laptop, and reread the message, before going back into his inbox, Oh, Yay! another message from a classmate

"Hey, Tommee! Remember that bet we made? I know you do! See ya at the school reunion, And your 'special friend'

-Jared"

He laid back down, and sighed, not sure how he wanted to deal with the situation...

"Tom! What color do you want to be?"

Tord was back, and he was holding a dusty box, smiling at Tom, and walked toward him, setting the box on his nightstand, and glancing at his computer screen

"Who's Jared?"

Tom groaned, and glared at the screen, closing his laptop, annoyed.

"Some dickhead that I used to be friends with, He wants me to go to our high school reunion."

Tord smiled and laughed at him a little "So you're going right?"

Tom glared at him "No. Why would I? And besides, he's holding me to some old bet we made..."

Tord smirked at him "What's the bet?"

Tom crossed his arms, pouting, and didn't say anything

Tord shrugged and yanked his laptop away from him

"Hey! Give that back!" Tom yelped and tried to grab it out of his hands

Tord stood up, and held the laptop above him, using his height to his advantage, and watched as Tom crawled off his bed, jumping trying to get it back.

"Tord! Give it back!" He whined and clawed at his arms, trying to get his laptop back.

Tord laughed and pushed Tom aside, reading the emails, before closing the laptop, and handing it back to Tom, smirking.

"So, Who are you taking with you?"

Tom closed his laptop, and put it away, looking down.

"Nobody. I'm not going."

Tord seemed surprised and sat next to him "Why not?, Aren't those type of things supposed to be fun?"

Tom huffed and glared at him, grumbling "If it seems so exciting, why don't you just go for me" Tom stopped and looked at Tord, realizing what he had just said, and cleared his throat. "Um, Tord..."

Tord Glared at him and shook his head. "Nuh-uh, Don't tell me you want me to go as your date-"

Tom sighed and stood back up. "Please, Tord! It's just one night!"

Tord looked at him one last time, before walking to the door of Tom's room "You have one week to convince me."

Tom groaned, well, at least he had sorta found somebody willing to go with him, now he just had to convince Tord that this was a good idea, that was going to be the hard part. He laid back down, he was most definitely not looking forward to this.

Tom wandered into the kitchen

"Hi, Tom!"

Tom turned his head and frowned at Matt, "Uh, Do you need something?" Matt smiled and nodded "Tord said you're taking him to a school reunion, or something like that"

Tom looked at him, trying to tell if he was being serious or not, although with Matt it was always hard to tell "What exactly did he say...?"

Matt stopped and was quiet for a minute as if he had to think about what Tord had said to him, and started whispering "He said I wasn't supposed to tell you..." he trailed off, playing with a thread hanging off his hoodie. Tom grumbled annoyed that he wasn't getting anywhere "Thanks for all your help Matt" He added sarcastically Matt beamed "Aww! Thanks, Tom!" Tom went into the living room, abandoning Matt, and sat down on the couch, flicking on a random show, not really paying attention to what it was, figuring it would be a good distraction, and he slowly fell asleep.

Tom woke up something messing around with his hair, and he followed his instincts and batted whatever it was away, not bothering to open his eyes. Tord smiled a little and kept messing with his hair. Tom, who was still half asleep, kept batting at Tord's hand, grumbling "Stop doing that."

Tord smirked, and kept doing what he was doing "Nahhh, your hair's fluffy, I think I'll stay like this for a while"

Tom opened his eyes after hearing Tord's voice and saw Tord sitting on the couch next to him, with a hand tangled up in his hair. Tom tried to sit up, but it was hard with Tord's hand holding him down. "Move your hand."

Tord smiled and ruffled his hair, before pulling his hand away, smiling slightly. Tom sat up, glaring at him. "What the hell was that about?!" Tord shrugged, and wiggled his eyebrows at him "Nothing!"

Tom sighed, annoyed when he realized what Tord was doing, he knew if Tom wanted him to go with him to the school reunion, then he could get away with messing with him like this. Tom muttered annoyed, "You're an asshole"

Tord smiled, and glanced over at him "Yep! Don't you just love me?" he asked playfully.

Tom blushed a little and tried to avoid his gaze, embarrassed

Tord gently shook his shoulder "Tom...? You alright? You were spacing out..."

Tom looked up into Tord's big gray eyes and nodded slowly "Yeah...I'm fine"

Tord nodded but didn't seem like he believed him. "Okay, if you say so" He ruffled Tom's hair before he stood up, and walked upstairs.

Tom glanced at the time and smiled weakly, 9:52 PM It was almost time for him to go to bed, he was fairly tired, and looking for an excuse to get away from everybody, as he was still a little shaken up by how flirty Tord had been acting earlier, but at the same time, he couldn't say he didn't like it either. He just couldn't get Tord off his mind as he walked back to his room, wondering for a second how the day had gone by so quickly as he climbed into his bed.

Tom opened his eyes tiredly, and stared at the ceiling, contemplating if he should stay in bad, or go downstairs and have breakfast, he figured he would go downstairs in a few minutes.

He grabbed his laptop, making sure he didn't have any new emails from his old classmates, thankfully he didn't and he closed the lid of the computer and went downstairs.

Edd smiled at him "G'morning Tom, I made breakfast!"

Tom smiled a little, he wouldn't deny that Edd was a great cook "Thanks Edd" He took a seat at the kitchen table and quickly looked away when Tord started making faces at him. Tord smirked, and leaned in closer to him, whispering "What's wrong Tom? Flustered?"

Tom blushed more, and kicked him under the table, mumbling "Stop that!" Tord smiled "Stop What?" He asked innocently, "I mean You were the one who just kicked me." Tom pouted, still refusing to look at him. Edd glanced over his shoulder, before turning to look at the two of them "What's going on with you two?" Tord's face reddened, and he sat back down, creeping away from Tom. Edd rolled his eyes smiling, "Whatever, I made waffles!" Matt smiled "Yay! Waffles!" Edd smiled and brought them a plate of waffles before sitting down and glancing between Tom and Tord, before taking a bite of his waffle.

Tord gently nudged Tom's leg under the table, smiling slightly when Tom nudged him back.

They continued their little game for most of breakfast until Tom didn't nudge him back, Tord looked up at him like 'You good man?' Tom squirmed, uncomfortable, he had gotten his for stuck in the bottom of Tord's chair, but he just nodded stiffly. Tord raised an eyebrow, not convinced, and glanced down, before looking back up at him with concern. Edd, who had been watching the two of them sighed, "What's going on?" He asked, a hint of annoyance present in his voice.

Tom looked down and mumbled something, Edd looked at him, "Could you please speak up, Tom?" Tom looked up at Tord, and muttered nervously "I got my foot stuck" both Edd and Matt stared at him, concern mixing on their faces "H-How did you manage that?!" He didn't seem annoyed anymore, mostly just worried. Tom gave a small shrug "I don't know, I was just messing around with Tord and..." He trailed off, embarrassed.

Edd looked between them, and hopped off his chair to see what happened, and couched down close to the floor, and sighed, not even wanting to know how this had happened. Tord slid off his chair and hugged Tom in an attempt to calm him down, whispering "Don't worry, you'll be fine..." Tom nodded and melted into the hug, grumbling "Of course I'll be fine" Tord laughed a little and smiled down at him.

Edd was still sitting on the floor, trying to figure out how to free Tom's foot.

Tom wrapped his arms around Tord's neck, not wanting to let go of him. Tord laughed at him a little and ruffled his hair "You are such an idiot." Tom stuck his tongue out at Tord.

Edd grabbed his ankle and tried to pull his foot out from between the two slats of wood, grumbling when he couldn't get it out.

Tord sighed, and put his head on top of Tom's mumbling, "Sorry..." Tom smiled, and laughed a little"At least now I have a valid excuse to not go to the school reunion!"

Edd looked up surprised "You were going to go to that?"

Tom shrugged, and rubbed the back of his neck "Yeah, I guess I was..."

Edd laughed a little "But don't you hate those type of things?"

Tom nodded "Yeah, but one of my old 'friends' is passively-aggressively bullying me into going to it because we made a dumb bet..."

Edd nodded slowly before asking "What was the bet?"

Tom sighed looking down, "That I could get a 'special friend' before him..."

Edd tried not to laugh "Then why bother going? No offense, but your the most single person I've ever met..."

Tom nodded, and glanced at Tord for a moment "I was actually hoping to go with Tord..." He mumbled looking down, blushing, embarrassed.

Edd raised his eyebrows, and smirked, making an "Oooohh" sound.

Tord flipped him off, and muttered, with a hint of sadness in his voice "We'd just be pretending, there's nothing between us..."

Tom sighed quietly and silently wished that they didn't have to pretend, that it could be real, even if it was just for one night...

Edd nodded, not quite convinced as the two of them had been acting rather... differently towards each other the past few days.

The next few days went by rather quickly, and it almost seemed as if they were all just the same day, all blurring into one giant day since not much was changing over the course of those 5 days. Tom and Tord casually flirted with each other, Edd's suspicion grew, and Matt, well Matt really didn't seem to give a shit about Tom and Tord's relationship.

Finally, it was the 29th, the night of the school reunion, and Tom was laying in bed wearing a ratty old blue hoodie and jeans, and he was contemplating sending Jared a "Fuck You." When he heard a knock on his bedroom door, and Tom glanced up, uninterested.

Tord sighed and let himself in, and sat next to Tom. "What are you doing? Aren't you supposed to go to that school thing with me in an hour?"

Tom looked up at him and realized he was serious. "Uh, yeah, J-just give me a minute or two..." He stood up, but he couldn't stop staring at Tord, and then it occurred to him. He had never seen Tord dressed up, huh, weird.

Tord looked at him, and laughed a little, standing up "I'll give you a minute"

Tom nodded and glanced at his closet, frowning. he grabbed a grey shirt, and a checkered tie, calling it good enough, before stepping out of his room to meet Tord.

Tord smiled and grabbed his hand, "You ready to go, babe?" He asked, playfully, smiling. Tom nodded, and intertwined their fingers, blushing slightly.

Tom looked up at the door of his old school, he wasn't so sure he still wanted to do this, he didn't want to be here, and have to see Jared again, it was bad enough seeing him when he actually went to high school, now he had to spend multiple hours with Jared, and prove Tord to be his 'boyfriend' He took a deep breath and got out of the car, standing next to Tord, and bit his lip, nervously.

Tord noticed the worried look on Tom's face and wrapped his arm around his shoulders "Hey, you wanna go home...? We don't have to be here if you don't want to be" Tom smiled a little, glad that Tord was being so nice to him. "Yeah, I think I'll stay, for a little while at least. I wanna prove Jared wrong."

Tord smiled at him and started walking toward Bradford High, keeping his arm around Tom, and gently drummed his fingers on Tom's shoulder as he used his other hand to pull open the old creaky door.

Tom glanced down the row of lockers, noticing some of his old peers, smiling a little, after all not all of them were assholes.

Tord smiled down at him, glad that he seemed happy "Recognize any of these weir-" He was cut off by a tall girl with long curly hair

"TOMMEE!!"

Tom glanced up at her, "Hey, Martha!"

Martha rushed over to the two of them, and threw her arms around Tom, smiling "Tom! It's been a *hic* been a while!" Tom smiled and laughed at her "I forgot how much confidence alcohol gives you" Tord laughed a little, and smiled at them, assuming they used to be friends.

Martha giggled and pointed at Tord "W-Who's thisssss?"

Tord pulled Tom closer to him "I'm Tom's boyfriend, I'm assuming you were one of his friends?"

Martha nodded "Yep! P-*hic* Practically almost a-all his other f-friends were du- *hic* dummies"

Tom stared at Martha, muttering "How much have you had to drink...?"

Martha looked up, and shrugged "Oh, I don't k-*hic* know! Somebody sp-*hic* spiked the punch bowl!"

Tom nodded, and glanced at her "Are you going to be able to drive home later?"

Martha nodded, "Yeahhhhhhhh, I'll j-*hic* Just stoOOop drinking for a little, s-*hic* sober up, ya know?"

Tom smiled, nodding slightly "Good luck with that"

Martha nodded, and waved at them, before stumbling over to the bleachers in the gym, needing to sit down.

Tord smiled down at Tom, wrapping both his arms, whispering "Hear that? I'm your boyfriend now!"

Tom blushed and looked down, mumbling into his chest "S-shut up!" Tord laughed, smiling down at him, and ruffled his hair. "I bet all your old friends are going to love me!" Tom laughed a little, "Nope. They're all going to hate you."

Tord smiled and rolled his eyes, "You wanna go find Jared?"

Tom glanced away, because honestly- He didn't even really want to be in the same room as Jared, but he only replied, "Not right now" and started fidgeting, playing with a loose thread that was hanging off his shirt.

Tord nodded and took his hand, dragging him towards the punch bowl, and grabbed a handful of pretzels, stuffing them into his mouth.

Tom smiled at him a little and grabbed a cookie, happily munching on it, while leaning onto Tord.

Tord gazed down at him, smiling slightly, just enjoying the moment, because, in the back of his mind, he knew it wouldn't last...

Tom heard a deep, rather sinister-sounding laugh, and looked up, already knowing who it was, Jared.

Jared walked toward the two grinning "Hello Tomothy!"

Tord looked up at him, and it took him a minute to realize that 'Tomothy' was a combination of the names Tom and Timothy.

Tom started walking toward Jared, dragging his feet, "Hi Jared..." Jared smiled, "Long time no see Tomothy, Sooooo where's your friend?"

Tom looked down and mumbled something, embarrassed.

Jared laughed, "I couldn't hear that, mind saying it again?"

Tom looked up, glancing at Tord, pointing "That's Tord"

Jared rolled his eyes and laughed, "I meant where's your girlfriend Tomothy"

Tord laughed and walked up behind Tom, wrapping his arms around him, "Who needs a girlfriend when they have me?" Tom blushed with how close Tord was getting, and how his hands were keeping a tight grip on him.

Jared stared at the two "T-That's very funny Tom... Where's your g-girlfriend?"

Tom leaned back into Tord's touch, letting out a small sigh of annoyance "I don't have one, Jared."

Jared laughed, relieved, "Great! That means That you owe me a-" He was cut off by Tord "You said 'special friend', not girlfriend, there is a difference" He said, glaring at Jared.

Tom smiled and stayed quiet, relaxing slightly in Tord's arms

Jared gritted his teeth, "But I meant a girlfriend! Not some weird guy"

Tom looked up at Tord, knowing he was getting mad at Jared "You say that as if I'm undesirable, and I have no idea why."

Jared rolled his eyes "I- I'm just surprised... I mean Tom's gay!" He started laughing "Imagine What your mother would say if she could see you like this Tom!"

Tom's face darkened, and he tried to hide, trying to disappear into Tord's chest, clearly upset.

Tord noticed that he seemed upset and sighed pulling him closer into him, and slowly taking him away from Jared

Tom tried to pull away from him, and swiped at his face, looking down, and mumbled "I'm fine Tord." Tord sighed, but kept his distance, looking down at him. "Alright... If you say so"

Tom abandoned Tord, and headed toward the bathroom, willing himself not to cry. He stared into the mirror, glaring at himself, muttering to himself, realizing that his crush on Tord was, hopeless. He slowly sunk to the floor, burying his head in his knees, tears now rolling down his face. He knew Jared was right, like always. He knew exactly what his mother would've said if she had seen how Tord was holding him, and Jared knew what she would've said too.

The bathroom door creaked, as Tord opened it, and glanced around before sighing, he hated seeing Tom upset. He walked over to where he was, and sat down next to him, wordlessly. Tom peeked his head up from his knees and looked at Tord, not sure what to say, so he scooted closer to him, and wrapped his arms around Tord's neck, as he gently cried into his chest. Tord put his arms around him, hugging him as He mumbled reassurances into Tom's ear, holding him as he cried.

Tom slowly sat up, pulling himself off of Tord, and wiped away the last of his tears. Tord smiled at him weakly but didn't move, not wanting to upset him. Tom was quiet for a moment before reached for Tord's hand, Tord said nothing but gently took Tom's hand in his.

Tom stood up, pulling Tord up with him smiled at him gently, mumbling "Thank you..." Tord nodded, and glanced at the door, waiting to see if Tom was ready to go out, or not. Tom smiled, "I want to beat the shit out of Jared." Tord grinned, "I'll help you with that if you like!" Tom wandered seemed happy and left the bathroom, still holding Tord's hand, not quite sure where he was headed, still dragging Tord behind him.

Tom stopped in the old high school gym and gazed up at Tord, happily, dropping his hand. Tord smiled down at him, a light blush dusting his cheeks. Tom shuffled closer to him, and laid his head on Tord's chest, mumbling "Dance with me."Tord smiled, and laughed a little, thinking he was cute, and wrapped his arms around him, gently swaying across the old gym.

Tom eventually got lost in the music, leaning into Tord, quietly humming along, despite not knowing the song.

I'll be better than I was before

Despite every text of yours ignored

Will you call me still?

Just to hear my voice, I swear

Always, I'll care

Tord gazed down at him, a gentle smile on his face, as he brought his fingers up to Tom's chin, bringing him back to attention "Wh-What are you doing..?" Tom mumbled softly, looking up at him. Tord gave him a lopsided smile as he put a finger to his lips, shushing Tom, as his other hand cupped his cheek, gently mumbling "Just let me try something..." Tom gave a small nod of his head, not sure what Tord was planning to do to him. Tord's thumb gently stroked his cheek, as he shuffled closer to him, and leant down, gently pressing his lips onto Tom's.

Tom was surprised at first, but didn't pull back, for a few seconds he was just letting Tord kiss him before his eyes fluttered shut, and he kissed back, his hands reaching for the back of Tord's neck, letting his fingers play with his long, silky hair.

Tord slowly pulled away from him, and gazed down at Tom, "Who would've thought an old crusty high school gym would be so romantic?" Tom giggled, and shuffled closer to Tord "Can we just go home now?" Tord nodded, and led him out of the gym, stopping by Jared,

"Oh look, it's the freaks" Jared shouted, pointing at the two of them. Tord rolled his eyes, glaring at him, "Where's your special friend anyway, Jared?" Jared froze, staring at them. "Excuse you! My wife was too pregnant to show up." Tom giggled, "If She's your wife, shouldn't you have a ring?" Jared stormed away angrily, glaring at them, as Tom cuddled happily into Tord's arms.

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orionwhispers · 4 years

Text

Tear In My Heart // Alfie Solomons

(A/N - hehe im back. im working on a bucky oneshot and a tommy series but both of them are super long and i wanted to take a little breather. this was supposed to be a drabble but you know me... ive got a few more ideas for shorter imagines like this with tommy and alf, requests are open! hope you enjoy. pls reblog and comment. love u see u soon xoxxo - also this is like the smuttiest thing ive written even though its not explicit but wow who am i)

warnings: violence, mention of fights and blood, protective alfie, heavily implied smut, lots of terrible language.

You knew something was wrong when Ollie practically crashed through the door. He took off part of the frame and made the hinges tear from the wood, nails and screws clattering onto the ground. The afternoon had been wonderful, perhaps too wonderful, and as always, real life found a way to shatter your rose tinted glasses.

It was starting to fall into autumn, the air chilly but comfortable, the streets slick with rain and the leaves turning into a sweet, buttery caramel all around you. The house was silent save for the birds singing in the trees and the rattling whip of the wind against your windows. The quiet was a perk of having house out in the country, far away from anything and anyone. Just the way he liked it.

Because to him, all he needed was his girl.

Well, and his dog.

The sun had barely risen when you got up - much to your husbands protests. You felt him stirring from beside you, a solid wall of warmth as he snaked his arms around your waist and pressed sleepy, half drunk kisses onto your spine. You laughed tiredly as his hands curled over everything they could reach, long calloused fingers roaming against your bare skin. He grumbled as you swung your legs from under the duvet and onto the floor, throwing on his white cotton shirt and letting it fall to your knees, trying to ignore the threats he was mumbling about what he was going to do to your boss for making you come in so early.

He made one last feeble attempt to grab you, exhaustion clouding his brain so he could do no more than swipe at the top of your thigh, making you laugh at his wandering hands.

“Stay.” He said, voice raspy and muffled by his pillow.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“Alf.” You sighed playfully, grabbing your strawberry slip dress and beaded heels and fur coat, darting into the bathroom to wash up and change. Through the noise of the running water you could hear the bed springs creak as he shifted, the entire frame groaning almost as much as him. Cyril watched you with his big chestnut eyes from the doorway as you fluffed up your hair and patted on coffee coloured lipstick, pinching the apples of your cheeks for a little flush.

You rummaged through your handbag as you made your way to the bedroom door, lost in your thoughts until you heard him speak, all low and gravelly and sending shivers up your spine.

“Oi. C’mere you.”

You rolled your eyes but walked into his outstretched arms, his body completely slumped and covered in thick duvets and pillows, just his tattooed skin and coarse, tousled hair poking out from underneath. He pulled you close into him, smelling like green apples and rum and sex and sea salt, like home. He mumbled something that you couldn’t quite make out, the sun starting to shine through the cracks in the curtains and as you started to get up he tugged you in tighter, placing messy, sloppy kisses down your throat and onto your collarbones.

You smacked his shoulder, grabbing his jaw and holding it still, placing a kiss on his lips, feeling him smile against your mouth.

“Bye, my love.”

“Hmph.”

You made it halfway down the hall before you heard: “Fred is driving you. Don’t even bloody think about walking alone at this time.” Followed by grunts and groans and finally deep, throaty snores.

———————————————————-

You accompanied your boss to a few meetings, taking notes and helping him check stock. After a few hours filled with cinnamon lattes and finger cramps and ink stains, he took you aside at the office and gave you the rest of the day off. You were a little suspicious, and had a feeling his good deed might have had something to do with your slightly intimidating husband, but you accepted it nonetheless and headed to Camden after lunch.

The air was brisk and you pulled your scarf tighter around your throat, dodging puddles and fat droplets of rain as they dropped from the trees. You stopped off at a little cafe on your side of town, buying turkey sandwiches, a garden salad and a platter of seasonal fruit, ignoring the fried sugar donuts and sausage rolls and thick, crispy cuts of bacon. A routine check up to the doctor had lead to Alfie being told that perhaps a healthier lifestyle would benefit some of his ailments, so despite his grumbling and childish ways you were doing your best to make sure he was eating his five a day - no matter how much he protested.

But at the last second you grabbed a cherry jam donut. His favourite.

The rain had become torrential by the time you left, the clouds morphing into a block of ashen, sooty grey, teetering on black. Once upon a time the impending storm would have made you feel nervous, the rattling trees and flashes of lightning had been the reason for many sleepless nights when you were a child, but now you looked forward to it.

Because now it meant something different. You, Alfie and Cyril curled up in bed, the fire roaring and flickering a brilliant orange gold. Your husbands arms tight around you, squeezing softly every time there was a clap of thunder, his kisses warm and protective across your throat, knowing that he’d never let anything hurt you. Drinking tea spiked with rum and playing cards, listening to the rain against the windows, feeling the white burst of lighting every time it struck the sky. Falling asleep next to each other, Alfie always waiting for you to doze off first, unable to sleep unless he knew you were alright.

You had once hated storms, and now you wished for them.

Your umbrella was totally battered by the time you got to the bakery. The bottom of your dress was damp from puddles and your shoes were on their last legs, the satin ruined and black with mud, but you didn’t care, walking through the side entrance with a smile bigger than the moon. A few of the old boys saw you instantly, straightening up and grinning at you, welcoming you with whisky soaked aprons and calloused hands. Back when you and Alfie started dating he had all but forbidden his staff from looking, talking, or even thinking about you, but over the years you had formed a close relationship with his workers - something about your warmth and light easing up the darkness. At first Alfie huffed and puffed about it a little, but he couldn’t exactly blame his men for loving you - he was a perfect example of how you brought a strong man to his knees after all.

“Is he upstairs?” You asked George, one of the distillers. As soon as he nodded you left, your heels clicking against the cool basement flooring. You didn’t bother knocking as you approached the big, intimidating door to his office, instead just grabbing the brass lion head knob and twisting it, hearing the hinges whine in protest.

“What the fuck?” His voice was as deep and rumbling as a low tide, his tone so dark and sharp that it might have scared you, if you didn’t know him as the man who fed the ducks fresh bread at the park and cuddled Cyril when the vets had to give him an injection. “How many fucking times do I have to ask you lot to fucking knock. I mean it’s a - ”

He stopped short when he saw you, eyes going wide and lips twitching upwards just a little. He slipped into business mode whenever he sat at the leather chair behind his desk, but you always managed to chip away at his foundation.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.” You laughed, walking around his desk to see him, his legs naturally opening to let you stand in between them, his eyes following every curve and line of your face, settling on the natural rosebud flush of your lips.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He mused, ring clad fingers darting around your waist and pulling you in. He toyed with the buttons on your dress and the jewellery around your neck, his fingers rough and large and as hot as a fire. His day had been shitty so far, but seeing the sparkle in your eyes and the loose curl of your hair had made everything much, much better.

“Hmm.” You said, leaning into his touch, batting away his hand as it slipped somewhere a little too low. “Marcus gave me the afternoon of so I thought I would come and surprise you.”

He blinked up at you, all wistful and love drunk and making your knees turn into blackcurrant jelly. “Did you now?”

“Yep.” You smiled, brushing your nose against his before pulling back and teasingly shaking the paper bag of baked goods in your hand. “And I bought gifts.”

“Yeah. Yeah. In a minute.” He barely registered them, instead dragging you into him, pressing kisses to your lips and letting you wash away any thoughts from his brain, not stopping until he was totally, completely drowning in you.

——————————————————-

That was how you ended up cross legged on the sofa, devouring your new novel and sipping on the rose and oolong tea Alfie kept in the cupboard for when you visited the factory. You could hear the rain pattering down the windows around you, mixed with the scratch of Alfie’s fountain pen and the sound of him rifling through his papers. It was fun to watch him as well as listen to him, the way his eyebrows raised when he read something he didn’t like, the twitch of his nose and the way that he ran his fingers through the coarse hair of his beard, moulding it to a peak at the bottom of his chin.

He watched you as well. When you got so into your book that your brows furrowed and your nose wrinkled. The way your hair was loose and wild, your stockings a soft pink under the stormy sky, your eyes wide and frantic, desperate to read as much as you could. He smiled at the way your leg bounced, how you tried to pick the stems from your strawberries with one hand but then accidentally squished them, the juice running down your wrist. He especially liked the way you were using his winter coat as a blanket, drowning in the fabric like a child, the collar snug around your chin.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You heard Ollie before you saw him, the crash of his laced black boots thundering up the stairs, the way that he collided with the door rather than opening it first. You and Alfie stood up at the same time, his eyes immediately darting to you, gesturing for you to get behind him.

“Eric’s here.” Was all the boy said, and you watched the colour drain from Alfie’s face.

“Eric?” You said, “Eric Martin?”

Your question lingered in the air as the two men walked around one another, gesturing wildly and talking under their breath; Alfie completely frantic and flustered. You had only heard of Alfie’s new business partner in passing, the two of them had spent the better part of a year talking through agreements and shipments and trying to manoeuvre a deal where the two of them could co exist happily - Alfie’s rum and Eric’s stolen goods sharing a boat so that the city checks would be easier. Alfie had never been particularly quite when it came to business. He liked to include you and get your opinion on things, he trusted you most of all anyway, but he had been secretive when it came to Eric.

You had heard through Ollie and rumours at the club and whispers in the factory that this “Eric” was a man not to be trifled with. Apparently he was unpredictable and violent, and he belonged to one of the major crime gangs in Cambridge. None of this scared you though, many people thought the exact same of the man you shared your bed with, and you knew a side of him that nobody else saw. The gossip was barbed and cruel though. They said he was conniving and underhanded, and that his last two wives had been admitted to hospital with broken and fractured bones.

So Alfie tried cutting him out as much as he could, never wanting to say his name or talk about him in the safety of his home, not with you around. Your home was his solace, and he wouldn’t taint his life with you in blood red - you were too important. You never thought much of it, but watching his reaction, his sudden overprotectiveness and stern frown and rattled demeanour, made you just a little bit frightened.

“What the fuck does he want?” Alfie snapped, pulling your coat over your shoulders frantically and starting to button it up, then helping you tug on your boots and lace them.

“He’s pissed about the Brighton shipment, he says his liquor didn’t get there on time.”

“Stupid fucking...” Alfie’s voice trailed off like smoke, something downstairs on the factory floor clattering loudly followed by distinct, angry shouts. “We told him it was too risky with the police there, he should have fucking listened. We were due a meeting next week, tell him to fuck off and come back then.”

“He won’t listen.”

“Make him.”

“I...” He started, but Alfie cut him off again, standing next to you and taking your face in his large, calloused hands.

“Right, pet. Stay here for a little bit, and when it clears up, Ollie will take you out the back, alright?”

“Alfie...” You started to protest, before exhaling and sighing as he turned to his protégée.

“You got that, Ol? Nothing is to happen to her.”

You were getting a little hot with being ordered around, but the visible anxiety swimming across their faces like the midnight sea was enough for you to close your mouth. Instead of agreeing with his boss, Ollie shook his head, sucking on his lower lip as he tried to think of a way to convey the sincerity of the situation.

“He’s really angry, Alfie. You need to go down, now. Before he decides to come up.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Your fingers clenched, and you darted out to tug on the edge of his sleeve before he left.“Alfie. Please be careful.”

There was a smog of anxiety in your stomach and warning signs ringing like alarms in your mind as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his lips brushing your hairline. You chewed on the edge of your lip as he left, and you wondered how your blissful afternoon had turned into this: your body shaking with nerves as your husband descended down the stairs and into the belly of the beast.

Ollie reached out and touched your shoulder, trying to help you feel calm but his face was the colour of tepid dishwater, paling by the second.

“He’ll be fine.”

You crossed all of your fingers and toes.

———————————————————————

About twenty minutes passed, and the shouting had gone from ear piercingly loud to a low hum, which you found oddly comforting despite everything. You watched as Ollie fiddled with his pocket watch, the two of you waiting until it was safe to head downstairs.After a moment you heard the sound of the giant metal door opening, the one right at the front where the workers came in and the bakery goods were delivered, a clear indication from Alfie that Eric was leaving.

Ollie leapt up and smiled faintly at you, edging you towards the door as you swung your handbag across your chest. You scoffed a little as you walked, turning to face him.

“If Eric is gone, why can’t I stay?”

Ollie merely rolled his eyes, his hand migrating to your lower back as he all but pushed you forward. You might have been able to get away with ignoring Alfie’s orders, but he certainly wouldn’t. “You know Alfie won’t want you here after that. There’s no use fighting him about it, he’ll want you back at home.”

You sighed but conceded, allowing yourself to be guided down the staircase. At least at home you could distract yourself and have Cyril with you, his big treacle eyes were the perfect remedy to a bad day.

You were right beside the back door and ready to leave when you heard a voice cracking like thunder from behind you, something as sharp as a knife and as loud as a church bell. You both froze instantly, every nerve in your body feathering, your heart aching to know that Alfie was alright.

“You little fucking liar.” Cut around the room like barbed wire. “How long were you planning on hiding this shipment from me?” There was another crash, and you could hear liquid trickling and dribbling into a puddle, followed by the sweet, sour smell of alcohol.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re on about mate.” It was Alfie speaking now, his voice lowered to a dangerous octave, and you could picture the lightning like anger on his face. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down? You’ve been sending things off without my knowledge!”

“I said. Fucking calm down.” The sound of a hand slamming down on wood, as fierce as a slap on the face. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

There was another scuffle: rapid footsteps on the floor, the crack of knuckles and the smell of ash. A couple of the boys darted in from the other room, their shirts untucked and hands turning red. You watched them curiously, stepping forward on unsteady heels to try and pinpoint the commotion. You felt Ollie's hand reach for you but you leapt out of his grasp, at the same time a body flew from the next room and landed in a heap next to barrels of aged rum and whisky, the wood heaving from the strain.

You glanced at the man on the floor, his body oddly contorted, his bald head glistening with sweat and his body reeking of putrid alcohol and cigarettes. This was obviously Eric. Your eyes widened in disgust at the drunk, violent man taking swings at whoever he could, wanting nothing more than to get away from him. You saw Alfie emerge from the shadows, his gaze flitting straight to you, his hands swollen and his face flushed with visible anger at the man sprawled on the ground.

Before you could retreat, Eric’s wide, black eyes landed on you, practically bulging out of his head with adrenaline and anger and excitement. “ You know, Alfie.” He asked through bubbles of saliva, scrambling to his feet as best he could, lunging for you. You saw Alfie and a few of his best men move forward, hands ready like cocked guns to strike if they needed to. Eric ignored them, wanting to pack as many fatal blows in whilst he had the chance. “Everybody at the club talks about your little whore of a wife, Solomon’s.”

The room fell deadly silent. His words didn’t affect you at all, but you felt a pool of dread settle in your gut and you stepped backwards, warning him with your eyes. He was at the back of the room, but you could still feel the anger vibrating from your husband, and you heard him smack his lips as he tried to calm himself down.

Eric ignored your alarmed glare, spitting onto the concrete and looking you up and down with pure disgust and shameless lust. “You know that people only do business with you to get to her?”

“Don’t. You. Fuck - ” Alfie’s boots thundered like a stampede, his voice as dark and raspy as midnight, his words sharpened like butchers knives.

“Maybe I’ll have a go at her. Maybe it’ll teach you a little respect. If I have a go at that smug little whore and slap her around a little and....”

He didn’t finish his sentence, Alfie’s cane smashing against the side of Eric’s head with enough momentum to send his teeth flying, small milky white canines lying a few feet in front of you in a pool of sticky blood. He made some kind of noise from on the floor, his hands coming up to protect what was left of his face, his polished shoes desperately trying to grip onto something to help him up. There was a second hit. And then a third. Each accompanied by ear splitting cries, and the sound of flesh against stone.

“Don’t you ever, ever, speak about my wife like that again.” You could just about make out Alfie from the darkness, his silhouette mighty and terrifying, leaning over the shattered body on the floor, filled with a hatred that seemed to overpower him.

“I - ” Eric tried to speak but only blood pooled from his mouth, his body weakened and damaged from the attack. He tried to cover himself with his hands but failed, another ear piercing crack echoing around the room.

You lunged forward, wanting to stop your husband before he went too far. “Alfie! Stop! You’re going to kill him!”

He blinked up at you, his pupils swallowed by black. His gaze lowered from you onto the wailing man on the ground, his words playing on a loop in his brain, digging their nails in every time the record restarted.

He had said those evil things about you.

He glanced at Ollie, finally opening his mouth to speak. “Take her home.”

You struggled in Ollie’s grip, desperate to see your husband and knock some sense into him. Your heart hung heavy in your chest, equal parts terrified that he would either end up hurt or in a more dangerous situation than the one he was already in. You fought hard but Ollie’s hold was tighter, his fingers squeezing you tightly. He tried to be kind but forceful as he pulled you out into the alley, your heard turned back to face your husband, watching as him and the shadow on the floor faded to a dull, awful, obsidian.

—————————————-

You were certain you were going to make holes in the wood. You had been pacing back and forth the living room floor for almost an hour, and Cyril had abandoned his mission of trying to cheer you up, and instead watched you protectively and cautiously from his wicker basket beside the sofa.

You had chewed your sunshine yellow nails down to the wick, and your heart hadn’t stop thumping since you had left the warehouse. Ollie had left you to your thoughts, keeping watch outside to make sure nothing harmed you, and also that you didn’t harm somebody else.

Dealing with hysterical women wasn’t really his forte.

There had been no word from Alfie since you had left, and so you watched the teal wall phone endlessly, hoping that it would ring and you would know he was alright. You were greeted with nothing but ice cold silence, and so you resumed your pacing, biting down on the skin of your thumb until you could taste blood.

Right before you were about to lose all control and demand Ollie take you to see him, you heard the crunch of the gravel outside, and saw lemon headlights flash against the wall. Cyril’s head lifted quickly, and his tail began to thump, but your feet turned to concerted and you were unable to do anything other than wait.

You were as still as a spectre as you stood facing the door, your body prickling with anxiety and adrenaline. A car - you assumed Ollie’s - coughed and spluttered over the rocks and into the road, leaving you alone with Alfie. You heard the key in the lock, practically felt the metal ridges running over your spine as he pulled and twisted and finally came inside, the sky a gloomy, smoky grey, rain falling so harshly it was almost hail.

He was shaped so strongly, his figure so barbed and brawny and beautiful. You felt totally mortal beside a man like him, and he looked even more so like a God when you saw him under the icy white lamp light in the hall.

He was covered in blood. Soaked in it, really. It was matted in his hair and in ugly brown splotches across his once pristine shirt and under his fingernails and smeared across his boots in a shade of red you had never seen before. It was obvious he had tried to clean himself up judging from the uneven patches and water marks, but he had given up, deciding to risk everything and drive through the streets like an abattoir worker, just so he could see you as quickly as he could.

You let out some kind of noise and stepped forward, he caught you effortlessly, the way that he always would.

“Alfie.” You said, wide eyed and innocent and good, and he felt like a sinner holding something so angelic in his arms.

“I’m alright. I’m alright.”

There was blood in his beard, and a plum sided bruise turning nightshade on his upper arm. “Oh God, Alf.”

He shook his head, pulling you in and smelling the orange and cinnamon of your shampoo and the vanilla perfume on your neck and felt the softness of your hair and the curves of your body. The day had been bad. It had started so wonderfully and ended up shattered and splintered into something so awful and malevolent, and now there was nothing he wanted except you, his home.

“We need to - ” You started, but he frowned, his arms engulfing you and tugging you in. He pressed his lips to whatever flesh he could find, open mouthed and desperate, sucking and biting and aching for you.

“No. No.” He whispered into your neck, his voice so small and desperate that your heart throbbed. “I need you, my love.”

You knew what he wanted. How we got when he was like this. Touch starved. Greedy. Insatiable. How he wanted nothing else but the feel of you under him, the weight of your ribs and the feel of your body and love consuming him until nothing was left. Fuck his back and his cane, he needed to claim you and mark you and show you just how badly he needed you. He needed to find religion at the alter of your pliant, yearning body. Show you how much he loved you on the cold kitchen tiles with the rain casting grey shadows and his lips biting your own as the thunder clapped above.

————————-

The tap was still leaking.

Alfie had promised to fix it weeks ago and yet it still dribbled lukewarm water continuously, you didn’t mind for once though, the soft noise it made as it bounced into the water was somewhat calming.

His legs around you were as thick as tree trunks and covered in curly, coarse hair. His arms were tight around you, and you played with the jewels on his fingers as you both relaxed, letting the hot steam cover you both. You were cradled in front of him despite your instance that his back would hurt and it would cause more harm than good. He simply got in the water and dragged you on top of him, letting the pink bath salts do their job.

You hadn’t really spoken since you’d made love like teenagers on the kitchen floor. Afterwards, he tugged you on top of him and held you close, the two of you skin to skin, letting your pulses synch and breathing calm all whilst he stayed warm and throbbing inside of you. Needing to be joined with you for as long as he could.

Then you ran a bath and filled it with all of the expensive lotions and potions you had stockpiled. Cherry and rose and sweet mint and chocolate and lime, things that might have clashed but would easily cover the smell of sweat and sex and thick, coppery blood. The two of you sat in the water, not speaking but filled with love, despite all of the unspoken tension in the air.

You felt him shift behind you. His huge body sent water and bubbles lapping wildly over the tub edge, coating the floor in marshmallow pink. You giggled softly, and the sweet, angelic noise gave Alfie the final push to tell you everything.

“I know what you want to ask me.”

“Hmm?” You murmured, letting round, iridescent bubbles fall through the cracks in your fingers, knowing exactly what he was about to say but feigning innocence anyway.

“You want to know if I killed him.”

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need to, he continued anyway.

“I did.”

The bathroom fell silent again and Alfie could feel you stiffen under him. You knew from the moment he swung his cane across Eric’s head that he would be buried six feet by the end of the day, but it still hit you like a punch to the windpipe to hear the words aloud.

“Does that bother you?” He asked after a moment, the words thick and raspy, as though they had been stuck in his throat like congealed honey.

“I’m not sure.” You said finally.

It was the truth. You weren’t sure.

You knew he had killed people before. You knew what the war had made him do, what it had turned him into. You weren’t stupid, either. You knew that he often came home with dirt under his nails and blood splattered on his boots and that glazed look in his eyes that made your stomach tie itself in knots. You knew because you had been there through it all, cleaning him up and disinfecting his wounds, talking him down when the memories of gunshots and trenches got too loud, listening to him tell you all of the secrets that lingered in his mind like flies around a carcass.

But if you were being honest, you didn’t care that he had killed. You never judged Alfie or his choices, you understood the way his brain worked and how he made his decisions. Most of the men had been awful. Abusers and violent thieves and con men with dirty intentions. This was the business you had signed up for when you fell for the six foot man with questionable morals but a heart of solid gold. There was no way you were turning your back on him now.

It wasn’t murder that scared you, it was the possible repercussions that led you to sleepless nights and bloody, bitten lips. You were terrified that one day everything would catch up to him, and it would be your husband that ended up in a coffin. He was so powerful and dangerous and magnificent, but he wasn’t invincible.

You were about to say as much but he continued, the water sloshing around the two of you. “Don’t let it bother you. I’d do it again. Kill a fucking million men if I had to. If anyone talks about you like that - if they even think it. They’re gone. Bloody scum. The lot of ‘em.”

You sighed, shifting up and grabbing his hand under the water. You rubbed circles across his palm, conveying your love through actions. “I don’t want to be the reason you have blood on your hands.”

“I’m a big lad right, I can make my own decisions.”

“I know you are Alf, but you know how I worry.”

“Listen to me, right.” He muttered, the candles flickering clementine, his fingertips pressing gently onto the bare flesh of your hip. He cleared his throat, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against his belly. “After the war I had nothing - and then I met you and fuck me you changed everything.”

He paused, reminiscing internally about how you met and your early dates, thinking of toffee kisses and giddy, pure love and fucking in back alleys and winter walks and finally feeling something after the war had shot everything right out of him. “And you are my wife. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

You tugged on his big toe, making him wince and playfully hit you, the air lightened just a little bit, but enough so that the two of you could breathe. “I don’t care that you killed them, Alf. I never have. But God, if something were to happen to you! What if the police start looking? What if...”

A million fucked up scenarios of your beloved in silver cuffs and a bullet in his head made you feel completely nauseous, but he held you tight, grounding you back to reality.

“I’m not going anywhere. And for the cops - they should be thanking me. Got rid of a lot of nasty criminals without them getting their hands dirty.” He pressed kisses to the back of your neck, the tip of your spine, the crook of your ear. “I promise you, my love, everything will be alright.”

The future was uncertain, but you knew that when you married him. Some days were just bad.

Clouded in darkness and tinged with blood and rust. Your relationship had always been a little unconventional, a little rough around the edges and at times, like a small wooden boat on a rough sea. But despite everything your love had been unwavering, as solid as a steel, the kind of dreamy infatuation that people longed for. For every bad day and every fight and every knot that wound itself in your belly - there was also so much good. Sleepy kisses and pillow talk and sharing the parts of yourself that no one else saw. A language without words, the safety of his arms, the home in your hips, domestic mornings and a love that could last through anything.And in that moment, with the storm starting to ease and the sky starting to lighten and his arms around you and Cyril starting to whine for his dinner downstairs...

It was enough.

Because you weren’t just the girl he would kill for. You were the girl he would live for.

#alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons headcanon #alfie solomons oneshot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons x reader #writing #alfie solomons hc

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ghstandpucks · 3 years

Text

Cutting Edge ~ Nathan MacKinnon Ch. 8

Hi everyone! I hope you are all doing well! I’m sorry this chapter took so long, but I hope you all like it! After school is done for the semester I will have time to update more frequently! This chapter kind of just feels out their relationship, setting up for the final chapters to come! Enjoy and let me know what you think!

I hope you all have a happy Thanksgiving if you celebrate! Be safe and stay healthy!

Prologue Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7

Monday afternoon found Nate and yourself at the rink after practice was over. The two of you had spent a lazy Sunday together, working out how this relationship was going to work. You both decided to keep it quiet, seeing as neither of you were fond of the media to begin with. Also, you did not think it would look good for you and the program if word got out. The two of you wanted to enjoy the fun that’s supposed to come with the beginning of a relationship and not feel pressured by outside sources. You also decided that the team would find out as they found out, agreeing that it would help to have people on your side if word were to get out to the public.

All of this didn’t matter though as at the moment Nate had picked you up to move you to the side as he shot a puck into the net. “Not fair!” you yelled, laughing as Nate skated back over to you, kissing your forehead with a smirk. “That has to be a foul.”

“A foul?” Nate questioned you.

“A flag?” you questioned as he shook his head and chuckled. He was about to correct you when you jumped in. “Oh wait, a penalty! Yup! That has to be a penalty!”

“Come on Coach, you really should know the terminology better by now,” he grinned, snaking his arms around your waist.

“Guess you’ll have to do a better job at teaching me,” you smiled up at him, wrapping your hand that was not holding a hockey stick around the back of Nate’s neck.

“Is that so?” he questioned, leaning in. You nodded your head as he kissed you. You were thankful for your toe picks in that moment, allowing you stand on your tip toes without taking the both of you out. Nate held you tight to him as he deepened the kiss, and you were about to let go of your stick when someone cleared their throat. The both of you jumped away from each other like shrapnel, looking over to see who caught you. Gabe stood at the edge of the rink with his arms crossed.

“If the two of you are trying to keep this a secret, maybe don’t make out in an open space,” he said, then grinned at you and Nate. He couldn’t help it; he honestly liked the thought of the both of you together. That and both you and Nate were bright red with embarrassment of being caught. “Are you trying to keep this a secret?”

“I think more just quiet,” you said softly, looking over at Nate. He nodded in agreement.

“We don’t plan on telling anyone. Just if they find out, then they find out,” Nate clarified for you. Gabe nodded.

“I won’t say anything. Besides to Mel that is. But seriously guys, hide better if you don’t really want word out about this. I know he’s concerned about your program Coach, so I’m assuming you are too,” Gabe said matter of fact. It was your turn to nod. Nate grabbed your hand and started to skate over to Gabe.

“Thanks man,” he said once you got closer. Gabe smiled, looking between the two of you.

“Of course. I’m happy for the both of you. But he better not get any special treatment Coach, or I will call you out,” he tried to act seriously, but you could see the amusement all over his face.

“Oh please, he’s the only one I’ve made skate extra laps before,” you giggled, bumping your hip into Nate’s, which was more of his thigh at your height difference.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Gabe chuckled, and you dramatically saluted him. “I’ll see you tomorrow guys.” After he left, the two of you decided it was time to leave also.

“Maybe we should be a little more discrete,” you said as you were taking your skates off.

“I didn’t think anyone else was here. I definitely didn’t think of anyone coming back in,” Nate said, cleaning the ice off of his.

“It’ll be fine right, if word gets out that we’re dating?” you asked, and Nate could tell you were beginning to overthink. He placed his hand on top of yours and gave it a slight squeeze.

“We’ll be just fine Y/N. And I’ll be right there beside you,” Nate reassured you and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. “But, we probably should be a little more aware of our surroundings. So, lunch at your place or mine?”

~ ~ ~

Later that month the team had just arrived back in Denver after a week-long road trip. You had been more careful in your relationship with Nate, texting more on the road instead of sitting next to each other. Finally being back home though gave you two the privacy you wanted. You were currently sitting crossed legged in the middle of Nate’s bed as he unpacked his clothes, having stolen one of his Avs’ hoodies. After arriving back home, Nate had asked you to come over instead of going home first, as he figured you would pass out the second you hit the couch, or bed in this instance. “Can we take a nap?” you lazily watched him bustle around his room. It wasn’t the first time you had been over, but it was the first time you had been this comfortable. As soon as you had walked through the door of his apartment you changed into a pair of leggings and stole his sweatshirt, the chill of the vacant place getting to you. Nate was about to give you a hard time, until he looked at you and it seemed like his world stopped. He loved seeing you dressed up for games and then skating at the rink, but now he thinks that this is his favorite look on you. He walked over to you and placed a kiss on your forehead, laughing as you gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, as you had been complaining about how your stomach was starting to ‘eat itself’ as you put it.

“Cuddles first, then food.” You responded as Nate sat on the bed and tackled you down, causing you to giggle.

“You’re so demanding,” he mumbled, tracing the 29 that was on your shoulder.

“All part of my charm,” you stated, snuggling into his chest as Nate chuckled. Nate started to tell you about the Mile High Dream Gala coming up as you slowly drifted off, feeling warm and content in his arms.

About an hour later, a phone ringing woke you up. You cuddled into Nate’s side, one of his arms under you and resting on your hip as the other held your hand that was resting on his chest. You grumbled, rolling over as Nate answered his phone. You could hear Andre on the other end. As you started to drift off again, you had the sudden urge to sneeze…and it came out much louder than you anticipated. You stifled a giggle as Nate absentmindedly said “bless you.” Andre must have asked who he was talking to because the next words out of Nate’s mouth were, “Y/N just sneezed,” and both of your eyes went wide. Time to put Andre on the list of people who knew. Nate told him the two of you were keeping it quiet, and he seemed to understand from the look on Nate’s face. Once Nate hung up, you sat up and started to scoot yourself off the bed. “Where are you going?” Nate mumbled, grabbing the fabric at the back of your stolen sweatshirt.

“I was going to go get those take out menus you have so we could order dinner,” you stated, falling back onto the bed and smiling up at Nate as he trapped you beneath him.

“Five more minutes,” he whispered, kissing you softly then moving to kiss your neck.

“Five more minutes,” you hummed.

~ ~ ~

A week later the Gala had arrived and you were finishing putting on your earrings, staring at the dress Mel had helped you picked out in the mirror. When you told her that you weren’t sure what to wear, she had picked you up and took you shopping. You ended up with a deep blue floor length dress with a slit up the side. Slipping on your nude heels, your phone went off with a text from Mel saying that her and Gabe were there to pick you up. While Mel was gushing about how adorable she thought you and Nate were, you admitted that you didn’t think arriving with him to the Gala would be a good idea. She told you not to worry, then called you the next day to tell you that her and Gabe would pick you up, then have to leave before you and secure you a “ride home” with Nate. You laughed at her scheming, but were also grateful to have someone like Mel on your side.

“You look amazing!” Mel said as you hopped into the back seat.

“Thanks! So do you!” you smiled back at her. “Thanks for the ride you guys.”

“No problem Coach. You do look very nice,” Gabe complimented you, shooting you a smile through the mirror. You thanked him and talked with them the rest of the way to the Gala. Once you were there and about to walk in, Gabe offered you his elbow to hold on to as Mel was at his other side.

“Are you trying to have two hot dates?” Mel teased her husband as you placed your hand in the crook of his arm.

“I mean, who doesn’t?” Gabe chuckled. “But I think someone might fight me for this one…” he tilted his head toward you. “…so I guess I’ll stick with you,” he kissed Mel on her cheek and you couldn’t help but smile at the happy couple. Upon entering the hall, the smell of wonderful appetizers filled your nose and chatter filled the air. Looking to the left, Bednar was the first to spot your little group arriving and made his way over, introducing you to his wife. As you exchanged pleasantries, you felt a presence stand next to you and smiled wider as you looked over at Nate. He was in a grey suit that fit him perfectly, and it took everything in you to not wrap your arms around him. His tie was blue, and you laughed at the unintentional match. You hadn’t shown him your dress, or told him the color for that matter because you liked keeping things a surprise every once in a while.

“MacKinnon, you didn’t bring anyone?” Bednar asked, shaking Nate’s hand.

“No sir,” he responded with a soft smile.

“Take this one. Two dates are a handful,” Gabe nudged you into Nate as Mel smacked his arm playfully.

“Rude,” you laughed, hoping you weren’t blushing too much in front of Bednar. But if Bednar noticed anything, he didn’t say and just chuckled.

“We have a table Y/N. But if you’d rather sit with them you are more than welcomed to. I know you’ve become friends with some of the players,” Bednar said, motioning to the Landeskog’s and Nate. You opened your mouth to say something that still made your relationship with everyone seem professional, but he cut you off. “Which is a good thing. They trust you more that way. And I trust whatever relations you have you are using your best judgment.” Bednar smiled at you as you nodded.

“Of course,” was all you could say as Bednar took his leave. You turned to Nate, slightly uneasy. “Does he know?” you whispered.

“I didn’t think so,” Nate said, looking at where his coach had walked off to. When he turned back to you, he grinned. “You look beautiful.” You ducked your head as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Thank you. You clean up nicely as well,” you responded as Nate offered you his arm to walk you over to the table Gabe and Mel had set up at. Mel eyed you as you approached.

“You guys are disgustingly cute. I can’t with either of you,” she said.

“I think Bednar knows something,” you said as you sat next to her, Nate sitting on your other side.

“What did he say?” she questioned you.

“He said he knew I was becoming friends with the team and that he trusts I am using my best judgment,” you filled her in. Gabe chuckled and you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“You guys don’t realize it but you kind of gravitate toward each other at practice. It’s not anything too noticeable, but if you are paying attention you can see that at the least the two of you are comfortable in each other’s presence.” Gabe filled you in. You turned to look at Nate and he just shrugged.

“That’s not a bad thing,” he said, and you agreed. At least Bednar didn’t seem upset by it. As the night continued you had been introduced to many new people and had answered many questions about why integrating figure skating into hockey was useful. You found you way back to your table and sat down, your feet starting to hurt. No one said 3-inch heels was a good idea. You had also lost Nate somewhere in the sea of people. You were about to go looking when Andre slid into the seat next to you.

“How’s it going Coach?” he asked.

“Good, exhausting,” you laughed and he nodded in agreement.

“Has Nate danced with you yet?” Andre questioned, motioning to the dance floor that had many couples dancing on it.

“No,” you said. “We’re keeping quiet so I don’t think a dance would be good.”

“It’s just a dance.” Andre said, standing up. “Come on Coach,” he offered you his hand.

“Andre…” you started to protest but were cut off.

“Come on. Live a bit Y/N! You look too nice to just be sitting here,” he argued. You rolled your eyes but took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. He put one hand on your waist as he held the other; your other hand resting on his shoulder. You were laughing at a stupid joke he made as he spun you around and into Nate. “Lovely dancing with you Coach,” he dramatically bowed, and you did a small curtsy to play along. Nate chuckled as he took the same position Andre had, but holding you closer to him. To anyone else it would look innocent enough, but the way his hand held firmly to your waist as he looked at you adoringly made your heart speed up slightly. Nate deftly tried to spin you, and you laughed as you came crashing back into him.

“You’re a terrible lead MacKinnon,” you teased.

“Maybe you just aren’t good at following,” he quipped back. You danced for the next few songs, noticing the evening was winding down. Walking back to the table, you both sat down as Mel and Gabe came over.

“So, we’re going to go. Nate, can you give Y/N a ride home?” Mel smiled innocently. You tried not to laugh as Gabe sent a wink your way. Nate rolled his eyes but was smiling anyways.

“Of course. If that’s ok with you,” Nate nudged you. You smiled back at him.

“Good. Have a good night you guys,” Gabe said, leading Mel out of the room. After making your rounds to say goodbye, you walked out with Nate. He opened the door of his car for you, and held your hand as he started to drive. The two of you were lost in conversation about the night that you hadn’t realized he drove to his place and not yours.

“Um” you said, looking over at him before you got out.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I can take you home if you don’t want to stay,” Nate said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“It’s fine,” you said softly. Though the two of you fell asleep on your couch that first night when you got together, you hadn’t stayed at each other’s places since then. Quite frankly, you had always been so busy with skating that you had never actually spent the night with anyone. Nate was different though, and he made you feel safe. Even if you weren’t ready for that next step, you couldn’t deny that you wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. Finally the two of you were away from prying eyes and you could be yourselves. As you walked into his apartment and he locked the door, Nate grabbed your hand and pulled you back into him. He smiled down at you, dipping his head to bring his lips to yours. You let your arms wrap around his neck, and smiled brightly when he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. Nate knew you didn’t have much experience with dating, and wasn’t looking to push you. He honestly just didn’t want to let you go for the night.

“I’ve been waiting all night to do that,” he whispered and you giggled. “Have I told you that you look beautiful?”

“Yes. But you can always tell me again,” you responded, laughing when Nate bent down and threw you over his shoulder. He walked to his room and tossed you unceremoniously on the bed. You started to take your heels off as he rustled through his drawers.

“Here,” he said, tossing some clothes onto the bed.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for these!” you said as you grabbed the pair of leggings you thought you lost from traveling two weeks ago.

“I think they fell out of your bag when you changed over here last time after we got back from the road trip. I just washed them with my stuff and kept them here for you,” Nate shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed to take his shoes off.

“You kept my leggings?”

“You stole my sweatshirt,” he chirped back, and you laughed. You did indeed take his sweatshirt home with you with no intentions of giving it back. Not that Nate actually minded. You couldn’t wear his jersey to the games like all the other girlfriends and wives, so he liked seeing you in something with his number on it. After changing into said leggings and one of Nate’s Avs shirts, you brushed your teeth with a tooth brush Nate claimed as yours from here on out. Then after washing the make up off your face, you crawled under the covers of Nate’s bed and waited for him to finish up. He came back into the room with just basketball shorts on, and you couldn’t help but stare at his toned body. “Like what you see?” he teased you.

“Maybe a little,” you blushed at being caught. Nate laughed and got into bed next to you.

“Is this alright? I can sleep on the couch if you want me to,” he said softly and you shook your head.

“Stay here,” you whispered back, scooting up to kiss him. The kiss was soft this time, almost like a silent prayer, and you cuddled into him as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“This is going to work Y/N. Whether people know or not. We’re going to work this out,” Nate said as you pulled back, running his thumb over your cheek.

“I really hope so,” you spoke, tucking your head under his chin and letting his strong heartbeat lull you to sleep.

Tags: @bqstqnbruin @avsfans95 @andreiaafaria @gravygravygravy @comphybiscuit

#nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon x reader #nate mackinnon imagine #nate mackinnon x reader #Nathan mackinnon #Cutting Edge

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

17 chosen and 20 lunar for Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go!

Lieutenants Log, stardate 10015, Joseph Stern recording

We’ve finally arrived at an agreement with the Aquariads, the species who control this moon. They will allow our research team unfettered access to the planet, but at an odd price. They requested one of our crew agree to be married off to a high ranking member of their governing council.

I suspect, but cannot prove, that this is not a desirable being to be married to. He’s a revered seer, and yet they’re willing to couple him to a human and not one of their own? Suspicious.

Myself and the other single members of the crew were all given extensive questionnaires on everything from our sexual preferences to our daily habits. It took me a good hour and a half to finish it.

After a full earth day of waiting, we received word that chief astrobotanist Duck Newton was the chosen human. I have no idea how this happened, as Duck has little tolerance for what he views as “woo-woo” things like precognition. But he was chosen all the same.

Because this is Duck, he grumbled a bit, but cheered up when he learned he would only be required to stay with his new husband for three weeks before joining us on our field word, and that we can send him specimens for identification and research. If we decide Aquaria is the planet we’ve been looking for and establish more permanent research stations here, Duck will be expected to spend at least a few days a month with the seer. Mama made it clear that if the idea was truly not something he could agree to, she would call the deal off and we could try another approach. Duck said that wouldn’t be necessary, and that he could think of far worse things they could have asked of us.

We deposit him at the seers home tomorrow. After that, we begin our exploration of Aquaria, fourth moon of the plant Oceana and (hopefully) the home of the antidote we’ve been searching for.

Joseph Stern, Lieutenant on the spaceship Amnesty, signing off.

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

Duck waves to the skiff as it pulls away, his planetside bag slung over his shoulder. There’s only one way to go; down the single stone levee, decorated with beautiful tiles, to the massive mansion at the end.

It reminds him of the photos of Venice he’s seen in old National Geographics, beautiful buildings floating atop a planet of water. He knows Aquaria has islands, but the majority of it’s cities are on or near the water because most of its residents live beneath the waves. They remind Duck of mermaids, with scaled tails and fins giving way to humanoid upper bodies and faces. As far as creatures to get politically married off to, he could be staring down worse.

There’s still the problem of not knowing why this mer is off by himself and without a partner. Or, as becomes obvious once Duck is inside, any company at all. The other high-ranking aquariads they’ve met come with miles of attendants; here there’s only the high, curved ceilings and rippling water. Maybe the guy is shy? Or maybe he’s a dick? Or just real fucking scary to look at?

As he walks further into the house, he notices the tiled walls are covered in striking murals that, when coupled with the odd half-light allowed in by the green glass windows, makes him feel as though he’s wandering through a dream. The pools and canals criss-cross the floor, and really the ground is more water than concrete, the fact he’s able to walk at all is a concession to the fact some aquariads evolved to be land dwelling.

A splash makes him turn, and in the pool to his right a black fin cuts the water. He steels himself to not insult the alien he’s now legally attached to. The figure rises from the water, setting his arms on the edge of the stony floor and Duck steps back as a wide, toothy smile appears in an angular face.

“Hello, Duck Newton.” His tail is the same black as his fin, and his silver hair is tucked behind ears of the same color, which Duck has learned can fan out as a way of communicating.

“Uh, hi. You must be-”

“Indrid Cold, yes. Apologies, a peril of my profession is that I will always be a little bit ahead.”

“Right. So, uh, guess we’re gonna be seein a lot of each other the next couple of weeks.” He aims for a joking, nonchalant tone.

“Yes, as we’re married.” He cocks his head, confused, then grins brighter, “Oh, oh I see, you are attempting levity because this is all very awkward. I, ah, I appreciate that. Here, let me show you where you’ll be staying” Indrid pushes off the wall, swimming gracefully on his back as Duck follows him down the hall. The center of the house has more skylights, allowing him to see that his host’s fins aren’t pure black; small silver and white dots are scattered across it. He wonders if he could find constellations in them.

“Here we are.” Indrid gestures to a room, one where the only water is in the form of two deep blue half-circles on the left and right walls. The center of the room is a large bed, linens gleaming whites and pale greens, and the skylight nestles against a chandelier of finely detailed rosey glass.

“Holy shit.” Duck sets his bag down on a trunk near the door.

“Do you like it?” A flash of yellow up Indrid’s fin, echoed in the dots on his tail.

“I mean, anythin looks ritzy after months on a spaceship but” he turns, smiles, “yeah, I do. Thanks for giving me such nice digs.”

“You are most welcome. Now, this room is designed to give guests privacy. See that red panel on the wall? If you press it, it opens the pool on that side up to the rest of the house, allowing myself or servants to come in and help you.”

“So you do have staff.”

“They’re, ah, more like errand folk. None live here.” Indrid clears his throat, “I can show you the rest of the house, although if you need to sleep I can let you be. I am, ah, not entirely clear on where your internal clock sits now.”

“Aquaria’s days are about four days longer than earth’s, so I ain’t too thrown off. Happy to see more of the place.”

Indrid nods, and Duck follows him out of the bedroom. Most of the other rooms they pass are sparse squares of walkways and still water, under which lies the parts of the house Indrid uses. When they reach Indrid’s quarters, he spots what looks to be an artists’ studio under the clear blue water.

“You paint?” He kneels and peers down for a better look, Indrid bobbing nearby.

“Indeed. Art helps me make sense of my visions, and I enjoy it besides. In fact, all the murals you see in this house are my doing. There are even more under water.”

“Damn, that’s fuckin incredible. If I get my SCUBA gear rigged up, maybe I can get a tour?”

“Scu--oh, yes, an underwater breathing apparatus. We have a much smaller device that can help you breathe and sea down here” he dips his head at the pool, “unfortunately, the one I commissioned for you will not arrive until close to the end of your stay. They, ah, did not give me much time to prepare. Hence the lack of many comforts I might otherwise give, as well as places for you to and I to talk, eat or do, ah, other activities together.” The yellow intermittently flashing up his fin gives way to a burst of pink.

Oh, right. Duck pulls up his infopad (given a generous waterproofing treatment prior to his leaving Amnesty) and opens the contract he signed.

“Yeah. About that. Says here they expect us to, uh, ‘consummate’ the marriage.”

“I’m aware” Indrid’s voice creeps up.

“Do you...wanna do that now?” He spins a finger in the water.

“I, ah, I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, seems like we could just get it outta the way, rather than have the fact we gotta fuck someone we didn’t pick hangin over our heads?”

“This...this is not at all how I wanted this to go.”

Duck looks up and immediately wishes he could reverse time; Indrid looks genuinely hurt, ears flicked back like a scolded dog.

“Duck I, ah, well, you did not choose me, that is true. But I chose you.”

“Well, fuck.” He sits down with a heavy sigh, “figured some big wigs used those surveys to pick me out. Guess what they say about assumin things is true.”

“.....”

“It makes an ass outta you and me?”

Indrid blinks, then snickers, “Your humor is part of why I chose you. It is very bad, but also extremely good.”

“Glad you think so. Pretty sure Mama was ready to blow me out the airlock for some of the ones I made on the way here.” He knows he’s dodging the conversation they should be having, but how the fuck is he supposed to respond when an alien mermaid tells him he picked him to be his husband?

Indrid swims over so he can rest his arms and chin on the stone, glancing shyly up at Duck as he says, “I suppose I also made an ass of myself, as you would say, by assuming you would not see this as an obligation.”

“I mean, even if you chose me, don’t this feel like an obligation to you?”

“No. For me, it is a reminder that most of my kind are too afraid of me to even give me a chance to court them. And that the council thinks I will get into too much trouble without someone to distract me now and then, and decides the company I am worthy of is an alien explorer with no interest in me.”

“I mean, the only reason we agreed to this is because there might be a plant on Aquaria that can treat the illness runnin rampant back home. So at least it’s for a good cause?”

Indrid flicks his ears, red running up his fin, “What you are doing is noble. What I am doing is being used as a way to keep your exploration team in line.”

Duck winces, “Fuck, I’m, uh, I’m just gonna stop talkin now.”

For an agonizing five minutes they sit there in silence, contemplating their situation and stealing glances at each other. Duck always tried to do the right thing, tried to live an honest life and treat the people in it with respect. He’s been kind and polite to beings up and down the galaxy. He can extend some of that to his own husband, can’t he?

“Indrid?”

The alien raises his head.

“Can we start over?”

“Yes. But I do not see how-”

Duck holds out his hand, “Name’s Duck. Thanks for invitin me in and lookin after me the few weeks.”

Indrid’s smile widens as he understands the game, and he takes the human’s hand, “A pleasure to meet you. I am Indrid, seer to the court of Aquaria, and your anxious husband in spite of the now-changing, much more pleasant futures.”

They finish their tour, the humid air less stifling in the wake of their confessions. Indrid shows him the kitchen, the sitting room, and the gardens which, to Duck’s delight, are as much above the water as below.

After that, Indrid excuses himself to attend to seer duties and Duck goes back to his room to unpack. As he’s putting away his toothbrush and razor near a large, elaborate tub carved from golden stone, one of Indrid’s admissions from earlier floats through his mind, bobbing there like a buoy until he gets a chance to ask it.

When they’re in the gardens, Duck taking notes as Indrid dives and surfaces with new things to show him, the human slips his feet into the water and says, “Indrid? You said my offerin to fuck you wasn’t what you wanted. What, uh, what did you want?”

The alien blinks, slowly, pink and teal flashing in his tail, “It is a bit silly in retrospect, but since I knew we would not have time for a proper human marriage courtship, I thought I could mimic the process leading to a one night stand; that way you would be romanced in a manner that made you both comfortable with me and the concept of sex with a relative stranger.”

Duck chuckles, “Always wild to find out how human stuff gets interpreted by the rest of the galaxy. How’d you even come up with what you were gonna do?”

Indrid crosses his arms, mock affronted, “I will have you know I have seen a great deal of human media, courtesy of our minister of defense.”

“Oh yeah?” Duck shifts onto his stomach, sends a small splash Indrid’s way, “what was this night gonna involve, then?”

“Food, dim and therefore, apparently, romantic lighting, dancing to sensual music, and then hopefully some kissing.” The pink in his tail intensifies, “and then working out exactly how to have sex human.”

The mixture of enthusiasm and being utterly out of his element charms Duck to no end; not to mention it’s the most thought someone’s put into a hook-up with him in the last three years.

“Seems to me you got the gist of it. Though I really wanna know what you picked out for ‘sensual music.’”

A playful glint enters Indrid’s glowing eyes, “I will show you, but we must go through the whole evening, otherwise it will seem like a disjointed choice. With, ah, with the understanding that you are not obligated to kiss me at the end.

“You got a deal.”

“Wonderful” Indrid claps his hands together, “wait right here.”

Indrid disappears in a whoosh of black and silver. When he returns, he hoists six opaque domes onto the floor in front of Duck, “I initially planned to eat in the sitting room, but you like this room much better, so we can have dinner here.” With that, he double-taps the top of each dome, revealing a confusing buffet.

“Uh, are those french fries?”

“Yes. You are from the United States of America, and so I chose foods that would make you feel at home.” Indrid points to each plate in turn, “french fries, steak, a turkey with cranberries, lobster, macaroni with cheese, and an apple pie.”

The pie is covered with an odd, yellow meringue, the turkey is the size of a quail, and the black shell suggests this is not a kind of lobster he’s eaten before, but Duck can’t stop smiling.

“Also I took care to be sure none of the necessary substitutions were poisonous to you.”

“Thanks, Indrid.” He means it; in their travels they’ve learned it’s not only humans who think everyone lives and eats exactly the way they do.

Everything except the french fries tastes strange but he finds the meal, like it’s orchestrator, intriguing in it’s oddity. Indrid brings two cool, white bottles from below, offers Duck tastes of each. One is like the celery soda he drank on a dare, the other like root beer if it wasn’t gross. He keeps the second one next to him as the meal progresses, Indrid asking him all kinds of questions about botany and himself. When dinner is over, Indrid guides him two rooms over, grinning excitedly.

“I will start the music; one moment.”

A few seconds after he dives, a chrome cylinder descends from the ceiling and music fills the air.

Ninety-nine red balloons

Floating in the summer sky

Panic bells, it's red alert!

There's something here from somewhere else!

He giggles, sits down so it’s easier to call, “Indrid? Not sure you got the right song bud.”

A silver-haired head pops up, “Not romantic?”

“Nope.”

“Hmmmm” He lifts a small, white rectangle and the song changes.

He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way

He had a boogie style that no one else could play

He was the top man at his craft

But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft

He's in the army now, a blowin' reveille

He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B

“N-not quite” The laugh is stronger now.

“Drat. How about….”

I threw a wish in the well, don't ask me, I'll never tell

I looked to you as it fell and now you're in my way

Indrid looks hopefully at him.

“Ain’t what I’d call sensual, but you’d hear it at the kind of place you’d pick up a date.”

The alien beams, starts shifting back and forth to the beat, “shall we dance?”

Duck blushes, pretends he doesn’t know why, “Uh, probably should have said this earlier, but I ain’t much of a dancer.”

Indrid swims to him, stopping close enough that Duck can see the lines on his face that reveal they’re close in age, “That’s alright. Sometimes conversing while having a drink is acceptable behavior, correct?”

“Yeah.” Duck doesn’t bother to hide how intently he’s watching as Indrid dives, his form elegant and ethereal beneath the water.

They sit sipping a hard cider that tastes of papaya and flowers instead of apples until the three other moons glow bright in the skylight. Duck yawns, and excuses himself for the night.

“Thanks for a great evenin, Indrid.”

“You are most welcome. A pity I could not make the music work.”

He’s here for another three weeks at least. And Indrid is floating through the darkening water like a dream he’s tempted to chase.

“Guess you’ll just have to try again.” Duck winks.

Indrid’s ears frill slightly and he flashes bright purple, “Yes, my dear husband, I suppose I will.”

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Duck’s routine is not the one he usually has while docked on a planet. Every day for the last week, he wakes up, joins Indrid for a leisurely swim, works on his research, and then spends his evening with a weirdly cute alien trying to accurately recreate the earth dating experience for him.

The second night, he asked if Indrid would bring him some of his favorites for their next meal. The steamed coconut crab was a hit. The mantis-squid served still swimming, less so. From then on, when Indrid put in his food orders to the cooks at the main court, it was for a mixture of earth and Aquariad dishes, each one leading him or Indrid to share an anecdote from their time on their home planet.

For the last two nights, he’s lifted the partitions on the pools in his room so Indrid can talk with him until neither of them can keep their eyes open. He wonders if it would be rude to ask him to stay, to sleep in such a small space just so he could be the first thing Duck sees when he wakes up.

There must be floating beds he could put in Indrid’s room, or maybe a hammock he could hang in the garden.

Duck now understands that Indrid’s powers make him politically valuable, but also mean his fellow residents of the lunar city see him as dangerous, as knowing things they’d rather keep secret. Duck understands, especially if their only time encountering the seer is when he glides his formidable, dark body from the depths of his inner sanctum. But all he can see is his Indrid, awkward and well-meaning, whose fear of Duck disliking him has given way to genuine affection. His Indrid, who now pulls himself up onto the stones so they can sit shoulder to shoulder after breakfast or before dinner, whose tail Duck’s fingers beg to caress.

His Indrid who is, at this moment, continuing his losing battle with earth music.

“How about this?”

Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen

Thank you for all the joy and pain

“Oh fuck no” Duck guffaws, “anything but him, ‘Drid, he’s a boner killer if there ever was one.”

“I don’t think he’s that bad, but I will be speaking to Vincent about his human music suggestions.”

“For the love of god, turn it off.” Duck flails for the remote.

Indrid sticks out his tongue, “Very well, but I am this close to pulling you down here and seeing if you can do any better.”

“You wouldn’t dare” Duck is still laughing, eyes closing as he does, which means he gets only a splash of warning before he’s yanked into the pool. He comes up giggling and spluttering, “now, is that any way to treat your husband?”

Indrid’s laugh is a siren song, “No, I suppose not.” The music clicks off as Indrid steadies him by curving his tail behind his legs, “how should I treat you instead?”

Duck drapes his arms over Indrid’s shoulders, “You been treatin me pretty damn well, dunkin me aside.”

A flicker of pink and yellow as Indrid rubs their cheeks together, “And if I wanted to be even better?”

“I, uh, I mean if you wanted to we could tryYYYYohfuck” he hunches forward as Indrid’s tail drags across his dick. The clothing on Aquaria is thin, so he can feel the cool scales tease his skin.

“Oh, oh dear, apologies, I was only trying to embrace you further, I forgot yours do not stay concealed until they’re needed.”

“You, you keep doin that and it’s gonna be needed real quick.”

“Oh?” red eyes narrow wickedly, “does my sweet husband need attending to?” Another drag of his tail, much more deliberate, and Duck grinds his hips in reply.

“Only if you want to.”

“I do, so very badly.” Indrid nuzzles his nose, “may I take a little while to acquaint myself with your wonderful body?”

“Uh huh.” Duck tugs his shirt off, throwing it onto the land and then giving his shorts the same treatment.

“Ohhhhhhyes.” Indrid purrs, fins and tails shimmering purple and gold. Then he sinks down, swimming in a slow, tight circle around the human. Pleased chirps and trills bubble up to Duck’s ears. Cool fingers play along his legs and belly, eventually finding his dick and offering an experimental stroke.

“Fuck” he groans, and Indrid does it again, kissing his navel as both hands rub and tease his dick and folds. Indrid is clearly experimenting, maybe even using his visions to guide him, and Duck eagerness to get off succumbs to just how fucking hot it is to have a partner this enrapt by his body, to have them explore it like some awe-inspiring landscape.

He spreads his hands out and runs them along Indrid’s torso and tail; the scales are just as wonderful under his fingers as he hoped, and he can feel Indrid sigh happily as he pets him.

Then lips close around his dick and he makes a series of undignified noises, digging one hand into Indrid’s hair to encourage him.

“Ohmyfuckinchrist, Indrid, yes, fuck please keep suckin like that.”

Indrid wiggles his whole body in response, happy trill underscored by a firmer suck. Duck can’t get enough of his body beneath his hands, of his mouth on Duck’s skin, and he wonders if someone can black out from how good a blowjob feels.

Indrid’s fin breaks the water and Duck runs an appreciative thumb along the top. Funny, there’s a little depression between it and the membrane of the fin. Curious, he drags his pinky along it.

The alien bursts upwards with a loud chirp of joy, “Ohgoodness, yes, oh that feels nice please do it again.”

“Yeah? My cute, needy husband need me to play with his fins to get off.”

“Not, not technically by my gods does he want you to.”

“Don’t worry darlin, I will--uh, ‘Drid? Is, is that your dick?”

Indrid follows his gaze to the thick, bumpy shaft emerging from his tail, it’s tip crowned with short, searching tendrils.

“Yes. Also an ovipositor, hence those lumps.”

“Holyfuck. Uh, I, I ain’t sure I’m ready for that yet.”

“That’s perfectly alright. Though it does mean my cock is not going into you tonight; I’m not sure I can control my bodily responses enough to avoid ovipositing accidentally.”

“Lots of others things we can do.” Duck bites the tip of one ear, making the other flare out.

“Indeed. I say we start with this.” Indrid’s tail encircles his waist just as Indrid shoves his cock between his thighs.

“Like, like the way you think sugar. Fuuuck, fuck that’s good.” The bumps from the eggs have just the right amount of give as he humps them, Indrid matching his tempo with his thrusts. He keeps his arms around his husbands neck, kissing him furiously. Indrid kisses back with a chirp, gold flashing in his scales, and Duck knows he won’t want to kiss anyone else for a long, long time.

The tip of Indrid’s cock bumps his ass and he groans at what that suggests about it’s size.

“I’m, I’m takin this fuckin perfect thing all the way before I go.” He bucks his hips harder to make his point, “gonna let you fuck me open on it, fill me up, wanna know what it’s like to cum with you inside me.”

“Oh gods” Indrid whimpers, hiding his face in Ducks neck as he squeezes his thighs together.

“And, and you’re gonna be a dutiful fuckin husband and fill me however I say, ain’t you?”

“Yes, yesofcourse, goodness Duck I, I’m-”

“Heh, you like that, mr high and mighty seer likes bein bossed around. Well, lucky you, because now that I know just how fuckin good you are at fuckin me, gonna have you doin it ever, fuckin, day.” He jerks his hips hard, three times, and Indric cums with a cry, cock pulsing as he sinks his teeth into Ducks shoulder. Duck doesn’t let up, chases his orgasm over the bumps and ridges until he nearly whites out with pleasure, clinging to Indrid tighter as his body gives up on supporting him.

After his cock retracts Indrid, still holding Duck up with ease, swims to the button that orders a cleaning cycle on the pool and deposits the human back on the stone.

“I dearly hope your team finds what you need on this planet so that I may see you beyond these few weeks.”

“Sex was that good?” Duck teases, petting Indrid’s hair as he lays his head in his lap.

“No. Or, well, yes, but more than that you are so, so very wonderful. I wish to get to know you more, to show you even more of my world and my skill in bed.”

Duck kisses the top of his head, “I hope so too.”

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Communication log between leader of Amnesty Mission at Astrobotanist Duck Newton.

Mama: Got some promising leads. Will be back to pick you up in three days.

Duck: Glad to hear it. But take your time, no need to rush only my account.

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay fills #alien au #terato

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bowsie22 · 3 years

Text

Pingxie Collection 3

Summary: Wu Xie is rescued, continuation of chapter 1. Warnings for discussion of torture

The Wang headquarters were imposing. Multiple walls and gates, armed guards, cameras. It was impossible to penetrate. Thankfully Wu Xie had a lot of friends. And a very wealthy uncle with some less than savoury friends himself.

The plan was simple. Xiaoge, Pangzi, Xiao Hua and Heiye would infiltrate the compound to find and rescue Wu Xie. Sanshu and Pan Zi would lead the men hired by Xiao Hua, Xiu Xiu and Erbai in a full-frontal assault, hopefully distracting the majority of the Wangs. Erbai and Xiu Xiu were waiting in an armoured vehicle nearby, ready to drive Wu Xie to safety.

Looking at the walls looming in front of him, Pangzi chuckled nervously. Nudging Heiye next him, “Hey, do we really think we can get through this? We don’t know what’s waiting inside.” Heiye smirked, gesturing at Xiaoge beside him, “They don’t know what’s waiting out here.” Xiaoge glared at the walls in front of them, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. Looking down, Pangzi realised Xiaoge’s knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping his sword.

Feeling slightly more confident, Pangzi said a quick prayer before following Xiaoge to back of the compound. There was a weak spot here that Pangzi could blast a hole in, creating their entrance. Behind him, Pan Zi set off the flare that was the agreed signal to start the attack. The Wangs had made a fatal error in taking Wu Xie. And now, they were going to pay for it.

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

Pangzi thought he had seen Xiaoge and Heiye fight before, but that was nothing compared to now. They took no prisoners, Xiaoge quickly slicing down anyone who got in his way, Heiye taking out those he missed. Pangzi and Xiao Hua trailed behind them, shooting anyone who tried to sneak up on their friends.

Xiaoge was brutal. He barely even looked at the people he killed before moving onto the next one, trusting the others kill any he may have left alive. His only concern was finding Wu Xie and getting him away from the Wangs, nothing else mattered right now.

Heiye had never been afraid of Xiaoge, but watching him now, he could understand why people were. The other man was merciless, his blade slicing through necks, chests, stomachs, whatever necessary to kill the person in front of him. Uncaring of the blood dripping from his sword, the man moved forward, never stopping, never slowing down. He was a machine. And he was terrifying. Not for the first time, Heiye was glad that Xiaoge was on their side.

Xiao Hua had not expected this. He knew that Xiaoge was dangerous, had seen the man fight people and creatures in tombs. But this complete and total disregard for human life was something different. As far as Xiao Hua could see, Xiaoge had switched off his humanity. He wasn’t Xiaoge, Wu Xie’s boyfriend and part time florist. This was Zhang Qiling, trained since birth to kill and would do it without a moment’s hesitation. He was a weapon.

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Wu Xie glared at the man in front of him. He resisted the urge to spit into the other’s face, knowing the pain that would follow if he did. “You know this could all end if you just tell us where the copper fish is.” Wu Xie said nothing. What could he say? He didn’t know where this thing was, and the Wangs weren’t believing him.

He could admit though that the Wangs were good at torture. They started with a beating, concentrating on the face, hard enough to hurt, but not enough to cause any serious damage. The next one was skilful with a knife, leaving shallow cuts on Wu Xie’s skin. They were painful but he wouldn’t bleed to death any time soon. And then came the waterboarding. It was quick, over in a matter of minutes but Wu Xie knew he wouldn’t be comfortable in water for a while.

And even after all this, Wu Xie still said nothing about that fish. He knew that the Wangs were getting annoyed, could see it in the faces and body language of those who fed him and gave him water to drink. They didn’t want him dead, they just wanted him to hurt.

“I’ve told you a thousand times that I have no idea where it is. I don’t even know what it is.” The man growled, reaching out to grab Wu Xie’s hair and yank his head back. The was a very dirty ceiling Wu Xie thought to himself. “Wu Xie, we can do this as long as we need to. We are experts at breaking our prisoners. Sooner or later, we will get the answer from you.” Wu Xie couldn’t stop the eye roll. This guy just didn’t get it, did he? He heard the door open which was odd. Normally when this man, who Wu Xie assumed was their leader, was in the room, it was only him there. Peering over the broad shoulder, Wu Xie couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over his face, wincing as it pulled at the numerous cuts and bruises.

“He might be able to tell you where it is.”

Xiaoge stood in the doorway, glaring at the Wang family member. Wu Xie could tell from how the other man tensed that the Wang was scared. Not that the younger man blamed him. His boyfriend looked terrifying. His sword, that Wu Xie normally saw leaning against the wall in their bedroom, was dripping blood onto the floor, the sound of that blood hitting the floor the only sound in the room. Xiaoge’s face was covered in streaks of blood and Wu Xie assumed that his clothing was also ruined, it was hard to see with the dark material.

Smiling at the older man, Wu Xie blew him a kiss. “Hi sweetheart, I thought it would take you guys longer.” Silently, Xiaoge threw something at Wu Xie’s feet. “Oh my god, one of you left your dog tags behind. I thought you guys were meant to be good.” Wu Xie didn’t know where this sudden courage was coming from, how he was able to laugh through the pain in his ribs, but he did. The Wang whirled around; hand raised to hit Wu Xie. Before he could, a knife flew past him, slicing his shoulder open.

That was when Wu Xie realised Xiaoge wasn’t alone. Sliding through the door behind him were Wu Xie’s friends. “Pangzi, Xiao Hua, get Wu Xie and go. Heiye and I will take care of this once and for all.” Pangzi nodded moving forward to untie Wu Xie’s hands and feet, supporting the young man as he stumbled. They moved past the Wang who was now concentrating on Xiaoge alone. Before they left, Wu Xie reached out to cup Xiaoge’s cheek, uncaring of the blood that smeared on his hand. Immediately Xiaoge turned to look at Wu Xie, ignoring the so called threat in front of him home. “Come home quickly yeah?” Xiaoge nodded, pressing a soft kiss to Wu Xie’s palm.

Grumbling about lovesick fools, Pangzi gently moved Wu Xie through the door. Dimly, Wu Xie was aware of Xiao Hua pulling his husband into a short, fierce kiss hissing that the other man better come back in one piece or else. He allowed himself to be led out of the compound, ignoring the bodies, the blood-streaked walls. At one stage they came across Pan Zi fighting off three Wangs with nothing but his knife. Before Pangzi could help him, Pan Zi killed them, running to the small group to pull Wu Xie into a tight hug before stealing a gun from a body and returning to the fray. Pangzi and Xiao Hua led Wu Xie out of the building, fingers on triggers, ready to defend their friend. Neither man relaxed until they handed Wu Xie over to Erbai and Xiu Xiu. With that done the two returned to the compound, determined to make sure that nothing like this would happen again.

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Once the adrenaline wore off, Wu Xie passed out. He drifted in and out of consciousness, aware of people moving around him, tending to his wounds. At one stage, he could hear Erbai telling him to rest, that he was safe now and the Wangs would never hurt him again. At that, Wu Xie smiled, knowing that his family and friends would protect him.

Finally waking up properly, Wu Xie was quickly aware of two things. One, he was back in his small house beside the flower shop. And two, Xiaoge was asleep in the bed behind him, his arms wrapped tightly around Wu Xie’s waist. Moving back slightly, Wu Xie relaxed as he felt Xiaoge’s chest rise and fall, the steady rhythm lulling him back to sleep.

When he woke again a few hours later, Xiaoge was entering the bedroom, a tray of food in his hands. Noticing that the other man was awake, Xiaoge nodded at the tray. “Pangzi cooked for us. Everyone except for him, Xiao Hua and Heiye have gone home. I’ll message later to let them know you woke up.” Stretching, and wincing as his ribs twinged, Wu Xie moved to sit up, accepting the tray on his lap. Looking at it, he wasn’t surprised to see it full of his favourite foods. Resting against Xiaoge, he allowed himself to be fed. “The Wangs?” Xiaoge took his time answering, concentrating on tending to Wu Xie. “Won’t be a problem anymore. We wiped them out.”

Wu Xie hummed. He knew he should be more scared. His family and friends killed a lot of people, Xiaoge especially. Most people seeing their boyfriend covered in blood and with a blade literally dripping blood would run for the hills. But Wi Xie knew his friends and family. Knew that their job was dangerous and that to survive, you had to be dangerous as well. And if they killed a few people to protect Wu Xie, so what? If push came to shove, he knew he’d do the same.

With Xiaoge warm beside him, Pangzi and Heiye argue about opening the shop tomorrow in the kitchen, Xiao Hua laughing at them, Wu Xie felt safe for the first time since that Wang had punched him in the face in his café. And he knew that would do everything he had to do to protect that feeling.

#pingxie

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Fall-ing In Love

Author: @mandelion82

Prompt: Fall-ing in love. Picture this on a walk on an Autumn day. Chilly day. The leaves have changed, breathing it in… you notice how a dock is still out in the water. You stand on it breathing in that air… until a dog barks which startles you and you fall in. Boy walking the dog jumps into the semi chilly water to save you. He takes you to his house to warm up….he’s cute, btw. Hope this is something you can work with. [submitted by @katnissandpeeta125]

Rating: T (to be safe, for mentions of alcohol)

Author’s Note: Canadian!Peeta x American!Katniss, meet-cute. Some of the places are real, including, of course, Manitoba, Winnipeg and Tim Hortons. Some places (and things) are made-up, obviously, so don’t bust me, my Canadian friends. I tried to be as accurate as I could on things I didn’t make up, lol. So, this was getting much too long for a prompt fic, but I am considering continuing it on A03 in the near future. Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for the prompt, @katnissandpeeta125!

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It was October 9th, and the Everdeens‒Katniss, her sister, Primrose, and their mother‒were currently making the drive up to Manitoba, Canada from their home in Grand Forks, North Dakota. They were traveling to visit their Uncle Haymitch for Canadian Thanksgiving, which fell this year on October 12th.

Katniss and Prim’s mother’s brother was a solitary man, an alcoholic grump, to put it bluntly, who had no real interest in associating with anyone as far as Katniss knew. But her mother had decreed they should all get to know him better. Katniss knew that her motivation lay in regret, regret that she’d lost touch with him after he moved to Canada, and other things… And now that her husband had passed, and with Haymitch being her only living older relative, she wanted them all to forge a closer relationship with the man.

Good luck to them.

Initially, her mother had tried to get Haymitch to visit them in the US, but he’d refused, saying he didn’t plan on leaving his home, ever. Stubborn as a mule. And so, her mother had suggested they visit him. Truth be told, Katniss was shocked that old Haymitch had agreed, and from the sounds of it, it had taken some arm-twisting. But, in the end, Haymitch had welcomed them to stay in his house, saying his casa was their casa. He’d said it was because he couldn’t turn away family, but Katniss suspected it had a lot to do with her mother offering to cook a large meal for him.

Haymitch Abernathy was basically a hermit, a hermit with a very nice, very large home‒he lived in a rustic, spacious log and stone cabin on Lake Victor in the small town of Panem, just outside of Winnipeg. The trip to see him had somehow turned into a three-week ordeal, their mother having decided they might as well make a vacation out of it.

Katniss had no idea how this was going to work. Her mother had promised Haymitch they wouldn’t be a burden, that he’d barely know they were there. Given how big his home appeared in photos, that might be possible, if it weren’t for her mother’s lofty ideals of getting to know him better. Katniss could just picture it: her mother waiting on her uncle hand-and-foot, trying to get them all to bond, organizing family game nights, and consequently, Uncle Haymitch fighting the urge to jump out the window. Well, he might like the being waited on part.

The reason they could take such a long trip was that their mother had her own business she could take anywhere; Prim attended one of those year-round high schools with the unusual breaks, and as for twenty-one-year-old Katniss, she’d long since graduated.

Katniss had been accepted to a state university in North Dakota, but admittedly, she was torn about actually attending. For one, the tuition and fees were outrageous; it had seemed like a waste of money they didn’t have. On top of that, she hadn’t qualified for financial aid, and so, she’d been working her butt off for nearly two years to save up enough to get started. Her mom, and even sixteen-year-old Prim, had been scrimping and saving in order for her to go to college, too. It brought Katniss endless guilt, even more upon the realization that she was no longer certain it was what she wanted.

She didn’t really know what she wanted to study or do with her life; all she knew was that she wanted to take care of her family and see Prim succeed. When their mother shut down for nearly six months after their father died, Katniss had feared everything would fall apart. She didn’t know how to reach her mother, and she hadn’t been prepared to basically become her sister’s caretaker at seventeen. She loved Prim; in fact, Prim was the only person in the living world she was sure she loved, but it had been nearly too much. They’d managed, though, as always.

Now, Prim had dreams of becoming a doctor. She had real potential, too. Medical school was crazy-expensive, though, and Katniss wondered if perhaps her college money would be better invested in helping Prim reach her goal. Katniss was more of the worker bee, anyway. She’d been thinking about this a lot on their drive up, that is when Prim wasn’t prodding her into singing along with the radio (because she loved her voice) and playing car games.

The Everdeens had taken an alternative route to Canada because Prim had expressed interest in visiting the International Peace Garden. When they arrived at the border, a friendly guard with an accent not too dissimilar from Katniss and Prim’s mother greeted them. He went about his routine check and sent them on their way with no issue, and they entered their neighbor to the north.

Although they’d gone out of their way quite a bit, for Katniss, it was worth it to see Prim’s face as they walked through the floral (fortunately still in bloom) grounds of the Peace Garden. They toured the Sunken Garden and saw the Promise of Peace sculpture, a set of hands releasing a dove, which Prim loved and had to snap selfies of herself by, along with the entire family. They moved on to the North American Game Warden Museum, which Katniss found interesting, and then to the floral clock, another favorite of Prim’s. After that, they had a small picnic in the picnic area and finished off their tour.

______________

Because of the detour, the Everdeens didn’t arrive at Haymitch’s place until well after three. Haymitch’s wooden home was adjacent to the serene blue-green Lake Victor, surrounded by tall evergreen trees and a mix of pine, balsam, ash, and poplar, whose leaves had transformed into a palette of brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges. Upon first inspection, it seemed to be the perfect escape into nature.

When they pulled up, Katniss saw Haymitch exiting his home and approaching their car.

“Well, there they are,” greeted her old uncle in his still-Americanized accent. He was obviously trying to sound peppy, but Katniss could tell he was skeptical about all this. So was she.

Shutting her driver’s side car door, “Hello, Haymitch,” her mother greeted him with a smile. She stepped forward, reaching out for him. Haymitch met her halfway and gave her a squeeze. He also hugged Prim, then reluctantly turned to Katniss.

There was no need to bother with it or mince words‒they both knew the other wasn’t a hugger, and they accepted that. Haymitch forced himself with his sister and with Prim, and as for Katniss, she didn’t really like being touched by anyone except Prim, and previously, her father.

“How ya doing, sweetheart?” Haymitch asked, keeping his distance as if she was something venomous. Okay by her.

“Fine, Haymitch,” she replied. “And you?”

“Just dandy. Uh,” he turned back to the other two, “why don’t y’all come in,” he offered, motioning with his hand toward the house. They followed him inside, only to stand in the foyer for several awkward moments before Haymitch offered them the grand tour.

The place was indeed large, with high ceilings supported by long, thick logs and massive windows, which could definitely use a dusting but beheld incredible views just the same. It was refreshingly uncluttered, aside from a substantial collection of alcohol behind his bar and in the liquor cabinet. Surprise, surprise. Haymitch warned the girls about sneaking some of his liquor, but that was neither here nor there. Katniss had never touched the stuff in her life and didn’t plan to start now, and Prim would never do such a thing. Always sweet as peaches, she’d never even gone through a rebellious teenage phase.

Next, Haymitch showed them to their rooms‒there were enough for all of them to have one to themselves. Katniss took the smallest guest room, giving her mother the largest and her sister the one with the best view. Katniss didn’t plan on staying in the house much, anyway.

After that, her mother got right to work, settling in and cleaning up around Haymitch’s place before announcing she was going to start dinner. Haymitch grumbled a little, but ultimately, didn’t stop her, especially with the promise of food hanging in the air. And while his sister made herself at home, Haymitch opted for taking a bottle of whiskey and a glass to his favorite chair.

______________

After a big meal and a little conversation, the Everdeens retired to their respective rooms. Katniss assumed her mother would be reading and Prim would be listening to music or on her phone if she didn’t lose signal, and as for Katniss, she was planning to go out tomorrow morning, so she prepared her bag and went to sleep.

That night, Katniss dreamt of her father. She hadn’t done so in a long time, but being in this place brought him readily to mind. It was the woods. Being in the woods reminded her so much of him. She wasn’t sure how to feel about her mind suddenly being flooded with thoughts of her dad. On the one hand, her memories of him were cherished, but on the other, sometimes forgetting was easier…

______________

In the still of morning, just as the sun peeked out over the horizon, Katniss slipped out of bed. The house was peacefully quiet, aside from the typical early morning noises emanating from the wilderness outside. She dressed quickly and took the stairs as softly as possible, avoiding the couple of spots she’d discovered creaked loudly. She walked into the wide-open living room and was surprised to find Haymitch already awake, seated in his green overstuffed chair with his feet propped up on the coffee table, staring out the windows. He didn’t even turn to look at her when he said, “Good mornin’.”

“Good morning,” she muttered back, stepping into her boots she’d left by the door. She laced them up and grabbed her father’s old, leather hunting jacket.

“Going out?” he asked in a gruff, groggy tone.

Katniss shrugged on the jacket. She could tell by the air that slipped in through the cracks of the windows upstairs that it was chilly out, but she had on layers, so she should stay warm enough.

“Yeah,” she said, hiking her bag up onto her shoulder.

Katniss expected her uncle to question where she was going (she didn’t really know where) and when she’d be back (she didn’t know that, either) as her mother and Prim would, but all he said was, “There’s some bear spray on the table. Take it with you.”

She could get used to this, decided Katniss. A quick verbal exchange or, even better, none. She lightly pressed her lips together and thanked her uncle as she snatched the canister of deterrent from off the table and stuck it in her pants pocket. And she went outside.

It was, indeed, chilly out, but not the unpleasant kind that cuts straight through you to the bone. Katniss observed the morning mist rising on the water and breathed in the perfect scent of trees and distant mountain air. Again, she was reminded of her father. Despite the bittersweet nostalgia, getting back to nature was always a good thing for Katniss. Maybe this place was a good idea after all. Sticking her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she trudged off, traveling the short distance down to the lake.

She hadn’t gone far when she noticed a long, wooden dock. She stepped onto the dock and took the walk all the way to the end. The tips of her boots just barely hung over the edge. Around her, it was almost completely silent, aside from the occasional honk of the geese flying in formation overhead. Katniss looked up, then down and out across the reflective surface of the water, now illuminated by the rising sun casting its soft pink and yellow glow. A pair of loons swam by, barely even noticing or caring about her. They must be used to people, she surmised. Not like this was a hopping tourist spot, but clearly, people lived here as she’d noticed several other large homes around.

Katniss took in the rest of her surroundings visually, then shut her eyes and breathed in deep. It was definitely Fall. Fall had that exact same smell every year whether in the United States or Canada, and once again, it was one she so closely linked with her father.

As she stood on the edge of the dock, a loud bark pierced the morning stillness. It was so high-pitched, so sudden, and so close that Katniss lost her balance, opening her eyes just in time to go careening into the lake. She was cold and wet, and it took her a moment to realize what had just happened and to get her bearings. By the time she did, a pair of strong arms were wrapped around her middle, pulling her back toward the dock. Somehow, she’d swum out a few yards in the wrong direction, probably disoriented by the shock of the surprisingly frigid-for-Fall water.

But who had her around the waist?

She was barely able to register the solid form of a guy before he hefted her onto the dock. Katniss got to her feet and took a couple of steps back, allowing him room to pull himself out of the water. She heard that unmistakable bark again and looked to see the dog (she assumed) that’d startled her swimming up behind the guy. The dog’s owner turned around and pulled it out of the water, setting it on the dock; it licked his face then trotted off toward land, giving her a cursory glance and a sniff along the way. Fortunately, it waited to pass by her before shaking out its thick, reddish-brown fur.

It was only then that Katniss got a good look at her ‘rescuer.’ Standing at full medium height on the edge of the dock, she noticed he was broad-shouldered and stocky, with ashy blond hair that fell in damp waves across his forehead. And very blue eyes. He was cute. Really cute, actually. Maybe the cutest guy she’d seen in a while, at least that she could recall right now. But maybe her brain was frozen from icy water.

“Are you alright?” the guy asked sincerely.

“Y-yeah,” she mumbled, hugging herself as she involuntarily began to shiver. It hadn’t seemed very cold out, but of course, that’d all changed now that she was soaked through and the wind was hitting her. “Wh-why…did…y-you do that?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

The guy didn’t answer but, instead, grabbed his coat lying on the dock and strode over to her. With surprising flair, he whipped it around, draping it across her shoulders. She wanted to protest, but it was so cold, and his jacket was so warm that she couldn’t seem to form one. She shrugged it on, and he helped her slip her trembling arms through the holes. As if that wasn’t kind enough, he even zipped the jacket up for her. It felt like something an overly doting boyfriend would do, and despite her cheeks being practically frozen solid, she felt them heat up.

And then, when he began brusquely rubbing her arms to create friction through his coat, she blushed even harder. A stranger was touching her‒she barely let her family do so‒in a practical yet affectionate manner, and she wasn’t even resisting…

Katniss stared briefly down at her soggy boots, then raised her gray eyes to meet his blue ones. “Um, thanks. What about you?” she asked, referring to his lack of coat.

He dropped his hands to his sides, giving her a small smile. “I’m fine.”

Clearly, he wasn’t. His burnt orange sweater and khaki pants were saturated, and every few seconds or so, he’d shiver. He was obviously freezing but trying to hide it. A guy thing, she supposed.

“Why did you do that?” she repeated her earlier question. “You didn’t need to do that. I was fine. I know how to swim.”

Honestly, she wanted to rant at him. There was no reason for him to jump in; it made no sense at all, and now they were both soaked through.

He shrugged, then embraced himself for warmth. “I didn’t know that. As for why, it was instinct. I just saw a person in trouble, and when a guy sees that, he’s gotta act.”

So, he was just doing the decent thing any guy would do… Not any guys she knew. Maybe Canadian ones were different.

“I’m Peeta,” he said, extending his hand to her. “Peeta Mellark.”

“Katniss,” she replied, giving it a brief shake. “Everdeen,” she added hesitantly.

He smiled at her. “Well, Katniss Everdeen, we, uh, probably shouldn’t stay out here, wet like this.” She was surprised he hadn’t said so sooner, and she was surprised neither of them had made any move to leave. “Where’d you say you were staying?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “I didn’t.”

“Well,” he exhaled, “if it’s far, maybe you better come to my place.”

“What?” There was no way she was going off with a total stranger, to his house, no matter how cute or charismatic he was.

“To get warmed up. It’s just over there.” He pointed, and she followed his finger. It was the house directly across the lake from Haymitch’s.

“It’s really not far to where I’m staying,” she said, not wanting to tell him exactly where.

“Yeah, but it’s a bit nippy, Katniss,” he persisted, briskly rubbing his own arms, “and being wet like that, you could catch your death of pneumonia, eh?”

She narrowed her eyes slightly. “How do I know you won’t kill me?”

Peeta smiled wider, revealing a pair of dimples. “Do I look dangerous?”

She scrutinized him, his innocent little grin, those soft blue eyes crinkled up at the corners. “No, but appearances can be deceiving.”

“Sure they can. But hey, I promise I won’t hurt ya.” He held up his hand in some kind of scouts’ honor symbol. “We Canadians are very friendly.”

“It’s really not necessary, Peeta. You should go home and get yourself warm.”

“Sorry. I would, Katniss, but Canadian hospitality dictates that I see you get warmed up, or at least get to the place you’re staying. I can tell you’re not from around here.”

Was that supposed to be an insult or simply an observation? Even if it was meant to be the former, he’d said it in such a polite manner that she couldn’t take it as such.

Katniss heaved a sigh. “Okay.” She didn’t need it on her conscience if this nice guy got sick.

“Good!” Peeta exclaimed, bouncing a little. She didn’t know whether from excitement over her agreement or trying to keep warm. Maybe a little of both. This got his dog excited, too, and it barked from beside him.

“But, for your sake, I hope you’re harmless because I’ve got bear spray in my pocket.”

Peeta raised a brow. “I see. Well then, I’d better be on my best behavior, huh? Cause that stuff’ll mess you up!” He grinned at her, and the corners of Katniss’s lips twitched in response.

“Shall we go, then?” he suggested, motioning. Still being ultra polite, even though he had to be an icicle by now. She nodded.

Why was she agreeing to this? Katniss wondered. Haymitch’s house was right over there. It wouldn’t take her that long to get there. Was she crazy?

She didn’t have much time to ponder it, though, because Peeta was already gently leading her off, his hand ever so lightly brushing her back.

______________

Peeta’s home was nearly as large as Haymitch’s and looked quite similar on the outside. Inside, it was structurally the same, yet completely different. He had art on the walls, a few sculptures, and hockey paraphernalia, the Winnipeg Jets. Overall, the place felt homier, warmer, and definitely more colorful.

“It’s nice.” She was trying to be polite, though she knew she wasn’t anywhere near as polite as he was. “Do you live here alone?” she asked, glancing around for any signs of others.

“Most of the time,” was his confusing response. He noticed her bewildered expression and gave a small chuckle. “Sometimes my parents come around, and one of my brothers stays here off and on.”

Well, that didn’t clear things up much.

“Long story.” He laughed.

Clearly.

“How old are you?” Katniss asked, not knowing where it came from. She hoped that wasn’t considered rude around these parts.

He didn’t hesitate to answer. “25.”

Peeta didn’t ask how old she was in turn, only smiled and led her upstairs. Katniss patted her pocket to make sure the canister was still there. Hopefully it still worked. But if Peeta was a killer, he was just about the nicest one she could imagine. Of course, wouldn’t that be the perfect crime?

He twisted the knob and pushed open the second door on the left, explaining that it was his room. He stepped in, but Katniss lingered in the doorway while he went to his closet. He rummaged around a bit before pulling out a sweater and pair of sweatpants.

“I’m sorry that this is all I have,” he said. “Not very fashionable, but it’s the smallest I own.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t really care about fashion.” She didn’t, and she was already feeling much warmer. She thought to tell him she should really just go now, but Peeta was insistent, and so, she took the clothes and allowed him to lead her to a bathroom down the hall. “This is the nice one,” he said. “For guests. There are some towels in there. Feel free to use anything you need.”

“Oh. Okay.” Once more, she nodded, and she stepped inside and locked the door.

After dressing, Katniss left the bathroom. Peeta was waiting, leaning against the wall with a bag in his hand. “Here, a bag to put your wet clothes in,” he said. He thought of everything.

It was only then that she caught his accent. Subtle yet noticeable, she heard it when he said certain words like bag, which he pronounced as a cross between ‘beg’ and ‘bayg.’ It wasn’t uncommon for people around her area and in nearby Minnesota to speak that way, so she hadn’t really thought about it, but she did now. She thought the subtle difference in his speech to be kind of cute, actually.

Peeta led her downstairs and asked her to wait on the couch. He still hadn’t changed himself, which she felt bad about. “I’ll be right back,” he said, dragging out the a in the word. “Then I’ll make you some tea.”

“You don’t have‒” she began, but she stopped herself, knowing it was useless to argue. This Canadian stranger’s hospitality apparently knew no bounds.

While he was changing, Katniss briefly wondered if she should just go, but that felt incredibly rude. He really had been so nice thus far, so she waited.

He came back, dressed in a hockey jersey and jeans. His still slightly damp, wavy hair was slicked back in some kind of style now. It made him look less boyish, more manly, and she couldn’t deny, quite attractive.

Peeta offered her tea once more, using his previous line about Canadian hospitality. She accepted and carefully watched him make it for her, so he didn’t slip anything in it.

“You use that excuse about hospitality a lot,” she quipped.

“S’not an excuse. It’s practically the law around these parts, sweetheart,” he said, handing her the tea.

“Sweetheart? Another Canadianism?” She was joking, of course. She knew full well it wasn’t because Haymitch called her that all the time, and he was originally American. It had always seemed like a strange term to Katniss, though, one that only truly fit with couples who’d been married forever, and not even then for her. She was never planning on getting married.

Then again, she kind of liked the sound of the word ‘sweetheart’ rolling off Peeta’s tongue…

“Nah, that one’s just mine.” He winked at her, and in spite of how forward she thought him, she smiled ever so faintly over her mug. Then she blew lightly on the tea and took a tentative sip. Just right.

She watched him prepare his own tea.

“You don’t take sugar in your tea?” she asked, noticing he hadn’t added any to his cup.

“Nah. I’m not much for sweet things. Drinks, anyway.” He winked at her again.

Katniss pressed her lips together. Was he flirting with her?

“Well, I like them. Sweet drinks,” she quickly added the second part. Peeta grinned at her clarification and took a seat on the couch with her, at the other end. She shifted in her spot, her back digging into the armrest. She was uncomfortable, yes, but not because she didn’t trust him. It was because of his looks and the scent coming from him and infused in the clothes she wore. Like cinnamon and dill.

“So, you’re from the States?” Peeta asked, taking a sip, then setting his cup down on the coffee table.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I can just tell. From the way you talk and your mannerisms.”

Katniss picked at a loose thread on the side of his sweatpants. She wasn’t really good at conversation, and she didn’t know what to say next, until she caught sight of his dog over in the corner. “So, your dog…um, what breed is he or she?”

“Oh, she’s a mutt.” Peeta laughed. Katniss laughed a little, too.

“Okay, but a mutt of what?”

“Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever and lab.”

Katniss nodded, even though she knew nothing about either type of dog, particularly the first. “I see. What’s her name?”

“Biscuit.”

“Biscuit. Really?”

“What?” He smirked.

“Well, it’s just…a little generic, isn’t it?”

“Generic, huh?” Peeta chuckled. “Well, I didn’t name her. My brother did. Used to be his dog, but he found out his wife’s allergic. He was gonna have to give her up, so I took her.”

“That was nice of you.”

“I s’pose.” He shrugged. “Figured he could at least see Biscuit this way. I call her Cookie most of the time, though, because that’s what a biscuit is here. My brother’s into American slang,” he explained.

“I see. Well, it’s…cute.”

Peeta smiled.

They talked a while longer, about basic things mainly, and after some time, Peeta cleared his throat. “So, Katniss, I was wondering…now that we’re dry, would you like to have some breakfast with me?”

“Uh…”

“If you haven’t had any, and you’re hungry, that is.”

“Well…”

“I would cook for you, Katniss. I’m a decent cook, but I don’t have much in the house right now. Wasn’t expecting company.” Company. Meaning, the klutzy girl he’d fished out of the lake then dragged home to make sure she got dry and warm, all out of the goodness of his heart.

“So, I was thinking I could take you out somewhere. Would you allow it?”

She should turn him down, say she needs to go or that her family is expecting her. Speaking of which, her family…she’d almost forgotten about them. They probably were wondering what happened to her.

“You don’t need to do that,” she said, rather regrettably.

“Please, Katniss. I’d really like to make it up to you. It was Cookie’s fault you fell in the lake.”

Peeta put on a smile, and it was so bright and beautiful and hopeful that she hated to wipe it away by saying no.

“Well…I…should check in with my family first.”

“So, you’ll allow it?” he asked, grinning like mad.

“Yeah,” she smiled back, “I’ll allow it.”

She might as well. If the guy was going to kill her or attack her, he would have done it by now, wouldn’t he? She shook her head at her own thoughts.

Then, another popped in.

“Hey, do you have Tim Hortons?”

Peeta chuckled. “Oh, you like Timmies, eh?”

“Yeah, I like the timbits.”

“A lot of Americans do, but let me tell you a secret…” He leaned across the couch, not close enough to touch her but enough that she could see the sparkle in his eyes and feel his breath against her face. “They’re much better here than in the States.”

Katniss smirked. “I see.”

“No offense to you guys, of course. And to answer your question, we do have Timmies, but it’s all the way in Winnipeg. I don’t mind taking you there, but would your family miss you?” He was giving her that dimpled grin again.

Katniss laughed, a little awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, maybe someplace closer?”

“I know just the place. A local place. Better than Timmies, too.”

“Okay. Well, I should, uh…” She rose from the couch, and he bolted upright at the same time. Probably’d been taught it was good manners. “Get back.”

“May I walk you?” he asked.

“Uh…” She hesitated. How would it look if she came strolling back to Haymitch’s house with a guy? Then again, how was it going to look when she told her family she was planning to go out for breakfast with the cute Canadian stranger across the lake? She couldn’t believe she was going to have breakfast with a cute Canadian stranger she just met…

But she actually wanted to go.

Katniss let Peeta walk her most of the way back to Haymitch’s then exchanged numbers and told him she’d meet him in twenty minutes at the dock. She figured she could ask Haymitch about him. It might be embarrassing, but she needed to find out a bit more information before going somewhere with him. As for her number, well, she couldn’t believe she’d given him that, but at least it gave her the option of blowing him off without in-person contact if she needed to. Then, if worse came to worse and he kept trying to contact her, she could always shut her phone off for the duration of the trip‒she barely used it, anyway‒and then she could get a new number back home…

______________

When Katniss returned, Haymitch’s place was alive and filled with noise. Prim’s singing reverberated off the rafters, and her mother and Haymitch were bickering like (most) siblings do about some nonsense.

“Katniss, there you are,” her mother exclaimed when she saw her, sounding a bit flustered. “Where were you?”

“I sent the bear spray with her,” Haymitch declared, throwing his hands up as if he expected to be blamed and to say it wasn’t his fault.

As for Katniss, she wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to say she was at some guy’s house, nor explain why she was wearing his clothes and carrying her damp ones in a bag.

“I went out for a walk,” she opted for. The three all turned toward her, examining her curiously.

“Katniss, what are you wearing?” asked her mother.

Great.

Well, she’d known that was coming. She should have tried to sneak in the back.

“Yeah,” Prim chimed in, “why are you wearing a sweater about three sizes too big for you that isn’t even yours, huh?!”

Might as well rip off the bandaid now. And so, she told the story…

“Oh, how romantic!” gushed Prim when she’d finished.

Their mother was staring at her while haphazardly wiping down the table for the third time, and Haymitch looked bored.

“It wasn’t romantic at all; it was stupid,” Katnis corrected, earning a disapproving look from Prim. “I was right off the dock, and I can swim, as you know, but this guy just jumped in after me. He said something about Canadian hospitality and how he just reacted.”

“What’d you say this guy’s name was?” asked Haymitch.

“Peeta. Peeta Mellark. He’s your neighbor.”

Realization began to dawn on Haymitch’s face.

“And where’d you say he lived?”

“Right across the lake,” Katniss answered. “You know him?”

Haymitch stroked his stubbled chin, and his mouth curled up. “Oh yeah, the boy across the lake. Yeah, I know him. Nice kid. Bakes good bread.”

“He baked bread for you?”

“Yeah, when I moved in. Said he was bein’ neighborly.”

Katniss smiled to herself. Yeah, that sounded like the Peeta she’d met…

“Wait, what happened after?” Prim interjected. “Are you wearing his clothes?! Did you go to his place?!” Her voice was coming out in squeals; she was getting entirely too excited about the whole thing.

Katniss sighed. “Yeah. I wasn’t going to, but he was insistent that I go to his place to dry off and warm up, and I had that bear spray in my pocket, so I figured if he turned out to be a psycho I could use that or kick him in the groin and run.”

Prim had the widest grin on her face now. “Oh, so he took you back to his place to ‘warm up,’ huh?” Prim used air quotes for the last part.

“Don’t you dare use the air quotes, Primrose!” Clearly, her sister had been reading those ‘romantic’ novels again. “Nothing happened, Prim.” She was directing that statement at everyone, though. “Peeta gave me some dry clothes to wear, a warm drink; we talked a little, and that was it.”

There was a group head bob.

“And…well, he invited me to breakfast.”

Katniss ignored her sister’s exclamation that she was going on a date and stormed up the stairs to her room, well, the room she was using. While trying to decide what to wear on her not-a-date, she considered the whole thing…

Was this worth so much harassment? Katniss wasn’t sure, but she liked Peeta Mellark. She liked him a lot. As a matter of fact, if these were more normal circumstances…if she wasn’t in a foreign country, if she hadn’t known this guy for no more than two hours, and most importantly, if she was a completely different girl, she might say there was a chance she could be falling for Peeta…

But no, it wasn’t possible. Not her. Not so soon. Not ever, really. Katniss Everdeen refused to fall in love or get married. She’d long since decided it wasn’t for her, that she would never go through what her mother did. She rejected the notion, altogether, of letting herself feel so much for another person that she would practically stop living if she lost them.

But the feeling Peeta gave her today, it made her almost…hopeful. It made her wonder how good it could be… Still, she refused to succumb to it. She would go to breakfast with the Canadian boy across the lake; she would enjoy her time with him, and then she’d tuck the nice memory away for safekeeping. That would be the end of it.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #mandelion82 #submission #prompt

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