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duskamethyst · 3 years

Text

heated.

a/n: first fic of 2021 and i just missed writing smut. i didn’t know how to end it lol but i feel like it’s something that we all can relate.

word count: 3.9k

genre: smut, nsfw, quirkless AU

warnings: degradation, orgasm denial, angry fucking, intoxication (voluntarily), car sex, bakugou being an annoying little shit

pairing: bakugou x f!reader

♪ music rec: f&mu by kehlani ♪

summary: you don’t know the reason why bakugou is mad at you and purposely avoid confrontations about it. it makes you pissed and annoyed so you decide to make him taste his own medicine.

“and where the fuck are you going?” your boyfriend glares at you from the couch as he scrutinizes the skimpy dress you have on while you nonchalantly walk from the room and reach for the front door. bakugou has been giving you an attitude these past couple of days and whenever you try to confront him about it, he just ignores you and walks out of the room.

you know something is bothering him when he starts to act up but you grow annoyed when he decides to not talk about it so you plan on doing the same and let him taste his own medicine until he comes clean about what has been going around in his mind. you’re not going to let him have his way all the time.

you already list out the things that could’ve displease him but he probably wants to keep you guessing. he really got on your last nerve so you’re not going to waste time putting up with his childish behavior when he can simply be straightforward about it.

rolling your eyes, you turn to look at him. “i’m going to the club with my friends.”

you miss the twitch on his eye when you turn back around and open the door, wanting to immediately leave the house without sparing a glance back to the angry male.

“i’m coming with you,” he says, making you stop in your tracks before turning to him in confusion. “you heard me, dumbass.”

you don’t know if you’re relieved that he still chooses to tag along with you, considering the fact that he has been trying to avoid you around the house but the thought about how tense the whole car ride would be dreads you more. without leaving you a second to reply anything back, bakugou walks to the room to change his clothes.

you could’ve just ignored him and left but that wouldn’t be the best idea since he’s not in such a great mood so you wait there until he walks past you and steps out from the house.

“the fuck you’re waiting for?” he glances back at you over his shoulder while walking towards his car.

yeah, maybe you should’ve just left him.

and you were absolutely right about the car ride being tense– it easily ruined your mood too. none of you said a word (if not for the fact that he was yelling madly to a lot of people on the road) to each other and you only kept staring blankly out the window. he usually liked to put his hand on your thigh as he drove but you already expected that, judging from your past experiences.

but your mood lifts up as soon as you see your friends again, completely ignoring and oblivious to bakugou’s presence as you swallow down drinks after drinks until you feel completely lightheaded and intoxicated.

bakugou only sits down by the bar as he watches you dance with your friends. aside from wanting to make sure to run up to you if you are to pass out (he tells himself that your friends can’t carry you) or need the toilet to puke, he also makes a mental note to watch if any guys dare to get closer to you. especially when he thinks that you look absolutely stunning tonight. but he also wonders why you have to pick that dress and initially decide to wear it without having him around. he knew he would have to tag along even when he didn’t really want to.

and there comes one hungry wolf.

bakugou observes as the man slowly creeps up behind you and carefully places a hand on your shoulder and immediately draws your attention to face the stranger. he leans closer to whisper in your ear while you try to listen through the blasting music and process through your clouded head. bakugou hates to admit that the man isn’t that bad looking but he knows that you’ll push him right away and not because he is in your presence– but because even if he’s not around to look after you, he believes that it’s something you would do, so he was never worried to let you go out with your friends.

and his eyes remain still at the two of you. for the most part, he only wants to witness the rejected look on the damned dude who even dared to lay his hand on you. the bastard should’ve realized that you’re way out of his league and maybe he would save some embarrassment for tonight.

seconds pass by in minutes and you still haven’t pushed the guy away. instead, you entertain him and the whispers go back to back between the two of you as if sharing some sort of secret that only you both know. it suddenly makes him feel like he’s the intruder gawking over another guy’s girlfriend.

from his fixed gaze, it’s almost as if bakugou hasn't blinked. he doesn’t miss the giggle and the smile on your lips as he wraps his arms around you before swaying your bodies together while your perfect ass brushes against his groin teasingly.

you should know better not to do that. you should know better that your boyfriend can easily knock the guy out, doesn’t matter if he’ll get kicked out for it. you should–

oh, you know alright. and you know well what you’re doing.

the moment you turn your linked bodies to face his way with a smirk tug on your lips and the guy burying his face on the crook of your neck– he realizes that you’re trying to push his buttons.

bakugou is fuming from his seat. though the look on his face sends shivers down your spine, you can’t deny that it also makes you feel hot and bothered. but bakugou is not one to easily back down from a challenge. it’s petty and a waste of his time but a small piece of him wants to see how far you can go and he’s daring you to.

it’s starting to make you feel annoyed when he still hasn't moved to pull you away so you try to step it up and provoke him further. with the guy’s hands around your body, you start to guide them down your hips and place them on your thighs, almost letting him touch and taste the sweet nectar in the middle, but not quite. your pussy is already aching for some relief but still, you’re not one to let a random stranger help you with it.

bakugou’s hands are balled into fists– so hard his knuckles are turning white as he glares at the hands that you easily let roam around your body. the same body that only he is allowed to touch and leave marks on but he still owns the thinning patience spared inside him and continues to watch what tricks you have up your sleeves for your next act before he blows up.

you think his persistence tonight is quite surprising. usually he’d already pull you close without a second thought when a guy even dares to glance your way for too long– but at the fact that one is currently having his hands all over you? you think it’s pretty impressive at how long he’s keeping up.

so you decide to amp up.

you turn around to face back the man around you and wrap your arm around his neck. the hands that are resting on your thighs shift on your hips again and you take the chance to roll your hips more erratically to bait him into moving his hands further down to your ass by his own will.

like a moth drawn to a flame, he does just that. he shamelessly places his hands on your ass and gives it a light squeeze before shifting lower to the hem of your mini dress and deliberately grazing his fingers against the skin on your butt cheeks.

“in three… two… one…”

the guy holding you is suddenly shoved further away as your body is pulled to another muscular build. you look up to see your angry boyfriend, his red irises matching the wrath in his eyes as he glowers at the startled man.

“fuck off.” bakugou snarls and pulls you away with him before the guy can reply anything back to him. bakugou won’t be able to hold himself from beating the fuck out of him if he spares even a millisecond longer in there.

you feel sorry for using the guy, but it has been fun. bakugou’s reaction is definitely what you’ve been yearning for and your efforts have been deemed to be fruitful. that’ll show him what he gets for giving you the cold shoulder.

“katsuki, you’re walking too fast!” you complain, clicking your heels to match his pace as he has his grip on your wrist. bakugou opens the back seat of his car and forcefully pushes you in and makes you stumble on your back before getting in himself and closing the door shut.

bakugou drags you closer to him by grabbing your thighs and you blink up innocently to him when he looms above your figure in the confined space of his back seat.

“‘suki?” you feign innocence even as your thighs are already pressing together from staring back into his intense and fiery eyes.

“don’t give me that.” he snorts. “acting like you didn’t know what you did.”

“did what?” you reply coyly, jutting your bottom lip into a pout.

“oh, you don’t know?” bakugou presses your cheeks together with his hand. “open your mouth.”

he eases his grip on your face and spits in your mouth as soon as you oblige, “that’s what sluts get. swallow it.”

to spite him, you do as you’re told with no hesitation and swat his hand away, “you deserved it, asshole.”

a look of amusement quickly washes across his face, “i think you should be put in your fucking place.”

“yeah? make me.” you challenge.

“brat.” he smirks before his hand reaches under your dress to rip off your panties. you look at him in disbelief as he brings up the cloth to show how well he just shredded the pesky cloth off of you. “your favorite? oops.”

bakugou lifts up the hem of your dress to your waist and a mischievous glint flashes in his eyes as he sees how you’re already drenched. “i haven’t touched you yet and you’re already this wet?” he chuckles. “a fucking dirty slut, aren’t you?”

“then it’s probably because the guy was touching me earlier.” you say mindlessly and the cocky look on his face instantly falters, his eyebrows furrow as he remembers back the show you put on from minutes ago.

“then you won’t be needing me to touch you, right?” he sneers while his thumb teasingly ghosts over your aching clit. “won’t be needing my tongue to clean up this dirty cunt, yeah?”

a pang of regret washes over you. maybe you took it too far just to spite him or maybe he’s just good at turning the tables around. either way, you know he’s trying to get you to beg for it.

the silence from your side tells him everything he needs to know. bakugou can play this petty game too and he won’t let you win so easily. “are you going to beg for it, brat?”

the relief you’ve been wanting is right in front of you yet bakugou wants to be an ass about it.

“no? you can go back to that fucking sleaze to help you out with it.” he jeers.

“if i wanted to, i would’ve done it already.” you whine, bucking your hips closer to his hand but he slaps your thigh instead.

“really? what do you actually want then?” he squeezes the supple flesh of your thigh and watches you squirm underneath him.

you look anywhere except his menacing gaze, “want you, ‘suki.”

bakugou slaps your thigh again, “look at me and say it.”

you nibble your lower lip and offer him your puppy eyes as you look up at him. “want you ‘suki, please. need you.”

“do you think you deserve it?” he snickers. this time, he’s generous enough to press your neglected clit but that alone easily sends sparks down to your core. “do you think you’ve been a good girl for me?”

“n-no.” you whine as you wriggle your hips needily for a tiny bit of alleviation.

“and do bad girls– no, dirty whores get to cum?”

“‘suki, please– i’m sorry.”

“good,” you look at him in anticipation as he tugs down his pants and briefs but he sits down in front of you instead and strokes his cock with his hand. “go ahead and show me you’re really sorry.”

looking at him dejectedly, you still get up on your knees to take his cock in your mouth. you want to start off with kitten licks on the tip but his hand is quick to grip the back of your head and forces your head down to take all of his cock until it hits your throat.

you choke and try to muffle something out but his hand leads you up and down his shaft as your tongue slobbers all around at every inch.

“fuuuck– what’s that?” he chuckles as he watches you struggle to take his fat cock all the way in that your eyes begin to get glassy. “whores don’t get to talk.”

bakugou’s head falls back as his hand continues to guide you down his length. his lips part to allow his soft groans to escape, eyes heavy as he focuses on your puffy lips wrapped prettily around his cock.

he holds your head still as he bucks his hips upwards and the tip instantly hits your throat again. you try to take control again, working your gag reflex and running your tongue up and down his cock and give special attention on the tip.

“fuck yeah. just like that.” bakugou growls.

glancing up to the male, you can clearly see how much bakugou is enjoying this– his eyes closed shut, chest heaving as breathy moans slip from his mouth. an idea strikes you and you start to think back how you even end up here. why do you bother giving him what he wants? weren’t you trying to make him learn his lesson? the look of pure bliss on his face only serves to be a provocation for you to proceed with your devious plan. what’s the worst that could happen?

so as your saliva slobbers all over his thick cock, wet and erotic that the squelching noises are able to drown his own grunts, his hips jerking as he reaches closer for his high– you bite the tip of his cock.

bakugou’s eyes shoot wide open as he yelps and pushes you away from him. a string of curses rips from his throat as he takes a few moments to regain himself but when he sees the smug look on your face, it only acts as a fuel to the blaze that was already starting to douse inside him– and you’re definitely going to pay for it.

“you fucking brat.”

he grabs a fistful of your hair and forces you down on your back again and lifts up your legs up to your chest. he slaps your clit before he sticks his tongue out and starts to lick a fat strip of your wet slits as you writhe in pleasure. your eyes immediately close and your nails dig the leather seat of his car.

“look at me when i’m eating this fucking pussy.” he spreads the slit open with his fingers and teases your clit with the tip of his tongue.

you shamefully turn your head to his direction, his irises ablaze with the usual perseverance to make you cum on his face while his mouth is attached to your cunt and his hands grip your thighs firmly to hold your legs up and spread. lewd squelching sounds echoes in the car and your breathing starts to hitch as you feel the coil inside your guts twists and turns tightly.

your legs start to tremble when he uses his finger to flick the aching bud and his wet muscle delves into your sopping hole. bakugou is nose deep inside your cunt, diligently laps off your essence like a man having his last meal.

“mmh– ‘suki– so good! gonna cum–” you cry as your hand grabs a lock of his hair to grind his face closer to your pussy. his mouth latches onto your clit, groaning a repetition of ‘mmph’s against the sensitive bud at how your tight hole is practically sucking his finger in with each of his thrust.

“yeah? gonna make a mess on my face, baby?” from the firm grip on his hair, bakugou realizes that you’re close. his eyes gaze upon your face– forehead glistening with sweat, chants of mewls and moans escaping from your gaping mouth that a bit of drool is already trickling from the corner and eyes screwed shut in pure ecstasy.

“yesyesyes– fuck!” you pant, toes curling in your shoes when the tight coil inside you is threatening to snap at any moment. “‘m gonna cum!”

and as you are about one step closer to your release, bakugou abruptly pulls away.

“you never learn your lesson, don’t you?” even through the dim lights of the parking lot, you can visibly see your juices glisten on his chin and the tip of his nose. “sluts don’t get to cum.”

your eyebrows furrow as you only silently watch him lean back on his seat and wipes his lips with his sleeve.

“i’m giving you a chance to start over,” he taps his thigh twice while the other hand pumps his hard cock, the tip flushing with a bead of precum. “show me you deserve to cum.”

you get up almost instantly before bakugou shifts in the middle to make space for you to prop on your knees in between his thighs. he guides you by the hips with his free hand, explicitly displaying his control over you at the moment before allowing you to impale yourself on his dick.

“how much do you want it?” sets of hazy, passion-filled eyes stare up at you while he teases your swollen clit with the tip of his cock and smearing your juices with his pre.

“i- i want it so bad, ‘suki.” the clench of your hands on his broad shoulder tenses at the sensitivity. you can see sweat already formed on his head and neck from the lack of ventilation in the car.

“hmm… and?” a grin etched on his lips as he spanks the flesh of your ass, hard enough to make your body jolt and a yelp to escape from your mouth.

“a-and i need your cock to make me full.” you whine, rolling your hips a little as if to relieve the annoying itch that you’ve been dying to scratch but couldn’t.

“so needy,” he tsked, guiding his throbbing cock down and halting just under your hole agonizingly. “lucky for you, i like needy little sluts.”

bakugou leads you by the hips to pull you down and hisses when he finally impales inside you. without wasting time, you start to desperately bounce on his fat cock and his hands find their way to grab your ass.

“fucking perfect– hah– so tight.” he leans further on his seat and watches his dick appear and disappear perfectly inside your sopping cunt in trance.

the praise serves as encouragement inside your head and causes you to ride and grind harder, completely heedless over how the car looks from the outside; bumping up and down.

the temperature in the car starts to rise and so are your bodies. vapors are already tinting the windows from the results of your heavy pants and none of you even mind about how suffocating it feels breathing through the dense air.

your body leans towards your boyfriend’s as your lips’ collide to a sloppy kiss before a loud moan tears from your throat when his grip on your ass tightens and rams his cock inside you relentlessly.

“look at you,” bakugou grunts over your shoulder as he continues to pound while your body arches over how good and deep he is inside that you can feel the tip brushing your cervix over and over. “fucked like a whore.”

the degradation makes you feel hotter than it should and you can only whine in agreement. as your orgasm gradually builds up, you quickly sense your pussy clenching tighter around his cock and feel every vein that brushes against your wall.

“mmmhh– so good!” you sob as your mind turns hazy, body trembling again once the same coil begins to twist and turn tightly and begging to break.

“wanna cum on this fat cock, don’t you?” he growls against your skin and smacks your ass before picking up the pace and fucks you harder. “let me hear you.”

“i– cum– please!” you try to form cohesive words in your head but nonsense babbles are the only things leaving your mouth.

bakugou lets out a haughty chuckle. “i can’t fucking–” he slaps your ass again, “hear you.”

through his teasing, even his own pace starts to stutter from how good your cunt is milking his cock but cumming first would mean losing.

“t-too much!” your hand curls into a fist through his hair. “wanna cum wanna cu–! ah!” you whimper in a chant before your eyes roll back and a huge wave of orgasm washes throughout your body and finally sends you into a state of frenzy.

“that’s it, baby.” his sporadic thrusts continue, making you whine from the overstimulation but he can feel that he’s already close from the twitch of his cock. “gonna fill you up.”

you can only hold on to him for dear life as he increases his faltering pace again until he can finally cross the bridge that leads him to his own high.

“f-fuck–!” bakugou bites your shoulder to muffle his moan and the clench on your ass that never left becomes stronger as he releases his hot cum inside you.

bakugou unlatches from your shoulder when you wail from the stinging pain and snickers to himself while he takes time to regain his composure. you push back his wet bangs with your fingers and place a chaste kiss on his sweaty forehead.

“so are you gonna tell me why you were mad?” you murmur, pulling away and sitting next to him before he pulls his pants back up. bakugou ponders over the reason with a furrowed brow and walks out from the car to take a heap of fresh air instead.

you’re too tired to get irritated this time, so you slip to the front seat and open the door to take a breather yourself. when he gets back into the car, he turns on the engine and the air conditioner before letting out a deep sigh.

“because...” he mumbles quietly just enough for you to hear and avoids looking at you straight in the eyes. “you retweeted a spoiler from the manga i’m reading.”

“wait, what?” you don’t know if you want to laugh or get mad because you’re sure that it had a spoiler warning and it wouldn’t be entirely your fault.

“shut up, dumbass. it fucking ruined my whole day. i don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

enjoyed this piece? wanna buy me coffee? :)

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jasntodds · 2 years

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Hamartia Chapter 15 Teaser - Full Chapter coming 12/31

Full chapter warnings: Angst, alcohol, the usual, mentions of injuries, some fluff, mentions of drugs

Words: 830

A/n: I’m back on this blog, oops. BUT, I’m gonna have a writing schedule so this will be a weekly update starting the second week of Jan!! I hope you guys like the teaser!! Please lemme know what y’all think!! If you want to be added to the tag list, lemme know or click the tag list link in my bio!! Masterlist in bio!!

Running away is so easy. If you run, everything that’s scary or painful just gets left behind. There’s still ache, still a bit of anxiety trickling in your bones but the further you run, the better it gets. It gets lonely as hell but isn’t that a lot better than being hurt? Is it? It really should be, at least that’s how Peter feels.

He can run away from everything. It’s what he’s done since May died. Run away from all he’s know. His home, kindness, you, Avengers, being a hero. He just runs because that’s just so much easier and he runs straight into a brick wall of drugs. Which definitely wasn’t where he wanted to run to. It was never his intention but he did and he’d be dammed if he ever ran that far again. He ended up at a bar and that’s enough for him. So, maybe it’s time he sucks up his fear, sucks up the horrible and gut-wrenching pain in his gut and just run towards something this time. Towards the thing that scares him the most, you.

The problem is that he doesn’t know how to run to you, especially after hearing the voicemail. He’s played it back now countless times and he can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact he did this to you. He didn’t even know about the extremis. He thought you shared everything during your friendship but that just came a total shock only for you to say it’s no longer stabilized because of his blood. It’s like no matter what he does, someone always ends up getting hurt and killed because of him. So, how does he run back to that?

“Bud light?” A voice beside Peter says, the bar tender looking at the ID on the counter and nodding before grabbing a glass.

“H-harley?” Peter quirks a brow as he looks beside him seeing Harley right there, in the flesh. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Harley asks, taking the glass and taking a drink.

“Um….” Peter ponders, not really sure how to answer aside from the usual.

Sulking.

“How’d…how’d you find me?” Peter asks, taking a drink from his own glass.

Harley shrugs lightly, knowing it really wasn’t that hard. “Asked y/n what bar she was at the night you were shot. Figure you’d be here out of some guilt thing.” Haley lets a soft grin cross his lips.

“I’m not going-”

“Shut up.” Harley groans, now turning to fully face Peter. “Look, we’re all tied of it all, okay? This shit is shit. Ya know, that’s why I don’t just put on the suit, right? This shit sucks, man. Being a hero. Watching people get hut and killed all the damn time even when it’s not people you know. I only ever do it if y/n is in too deep and to be honest, I hate it even then. Actual shit. But, you chose it. You went out there and decided to do this. Which, hey, good for you. Something we all admire, right? But you gotta stop sulking about your decision and come back with me.” Harley’s voice is tired, almost on the verge of being bored. This constant back and forth has him wanting to throw in the towel. You’re the only reason he doesn’t.

“I fucked up.” Peter groans, putting his forehead to his hands that are on the bar but only for a second. “How…how do I come back from that?”

Harley shrugs. “Talks to Tony.” Peter just rolls his eyes at the answer. He is certain Tony doesn’t have anything too nice to say to him right now. Not after what happened with you and not after leaving. “Okay, how about I give you some insight and then you agree to come ack with me? If not….” Harley pauses. “I guess you suck.”

“What insight?” Peter asks, suspicion in his voice.

“You know,” Harley sucks in a breath. “She needs you. Like…” Harley shakes his head.

You have a thing for these talks at three in the morning when everyone should be sleeping. You talk. More than you ever probably should. You gets vulnerable. With anyone that’s really close to you. That’s how Cinder knew Peter’s backstory. One night, after staying up late, Cinder bandaging your cuts from a fight, you got talking. Explaining why you care so much about this dumb boy from Queens. You talk and you’ll want to kill Harley for saying anything because it’s you. You don’t want to lay everything out there. Risk yourself more than you already have.

“I mean, she’ll kill me if she finds out I told you but she’s scared. Like really, really scared. It’s been months, Peter and they don’t know how to fix her. They aren’t any closer today than they were when it started. She’s dying and it’s only getting worse and she’s scared. She goes after you because to her, if she dies protecting someone she loves, it’s worth it but this?” Harley points to Peter, moving his finger up and down. “This isn’t how she wants to go. She needs you to be there, now that you know.”

“W-why me though?” Peter asks.

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21burritoseavey · 3 years

Note

for corbyn based on hard!

hello! hope you enjoy this I’m so sorry it took so long. Let me know what you think:)

here’s a link to my masterlist for my other stories:)

a/n: oop i kinda lied about when i was gonna post...but i actually like this a lot so read it...or else....jkjk.

Summary: When Y/n knocks on Corbyn’s door, he lets her stay the night without an explanation.

Hard (c.b.)

Corbyn jerked his head up at the sound of a faint knock on the front door. His hoodie was draped cosily over his head and his tired eyes were now focused on the wall opposite him. The printed frames of the band’s accomplishments stood out brightly in the beams of a streetlamp’s light that poured through the window. Corbyn stayed on the sofa, resting back against the cushions, and letting the dim T.V. screen grasp his attention again as he thought his mind was just playing tricks on him. On a measly, sluggish Wednesday night, who would even have the energy to show up at his place right now? Eben and Jonah went to bed just before midnight settled around them, painting the sky with deep jet black and shooting daggers of heavy raindrops from above along with loud thunder. They’d left only Corbyn awake to suffer through a painfully boring movie alone. It was something he did often just to soothe himself to sleep.

Sleep was always a struggle for Corbyn. Despite myriad attempts to figure out why, nothing ever seemed to shut his eyes. More often than not, he’d find himself on the living room sofa in the morning, and tonight was merely one of many nights where he’d hope to fall asleep with a T.V. show or movie mumbling in the background under the eeriness and coldness of the house.

Another knock came dancing along the quiet atmosphere. Corbyn glanced at the door again before his gaze flickered back to the T.V. 12:46am was shown at the corner of the screen. Deciding that whoever it was standing behind that door must’ve had a good reason to be, he tiredly lifted himself up with a quiet groan. Y/n’s voice seeped into the house, gradually increasing in volume as he walked towards the door. It was weak and raspy - nothing like the usual softness Y/n’s voice had.

“Y/n,” Corbyn breathed, feeling the hood of his sweatshirt fall backwards as a cold gust of wind swept over him. Y/n shyly stood before him. Her hair dangled in two braids, although it was damp and dishevelled at the top and her mascara stained her cheeks in streaks like it’d been painted on her face. Corbyn’s lips turned downwards into a genuine frown at the sight of her, not only visibly sad but shivering from the rain and cold that reddened her cheeks and soaked her clothes. His gaze stopped at her chapped lips when he heard her whisper. But the heavy downpour of rain engulfed Y/n’s sorrowful murmurs, barely allowing her words to be heard over the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the ground, so he just let her in with a gentle tug of her wrist.

“Hi,” Y/n tried again once the place quietened, looking up at him. The faint sloshing of her shoes had them both dropping their gazes to the floor, roaming from Y/n’s boots to the small gap at the bottom of the door. A narrow trail of mud had followed her in from the welcome mat. “Sorry,” She exhaled again, giving him an apologetic smile.

“No, that’s okay,” Corbyn assured her. He gave her time to take off her shoes before changing the subject. “It’s nearly 1am.” He chuckled humourlessly. “what’re you doing here?” Taking a seat on the edge of the couch, he waited for her response. But when the eerie silence emerged again, he started thinking out loud with his own guesses. “Were you locked out of the house? Did you get in trouble?” He stopped for a second, catching his thoughts before they could travel to him. The one guy he really didn’t want to be the cause of his best friend’s sadness, or the reason she risked her own safety just to come over here. A ripple of hailstones came clattering against the rooftop and the loud sounds sent Corbyn out of his mind and back into the present.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Y/n mumbled, gazing towards him with an almost scared expression in slight fear that he wouldn’t let her stay. But that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, Corbyn loved when she stayed over, and when he noticed the small uneasiness in her expression, he assured her she was fine to stay with a gentle smile, regardless of the heart wrenching swirl of emotion inside him.

“Okay.” He said quietly, “you can sleep here tonight.”

“M’kay,” Y/n bit back her smile of relief and merely watched him hop off the couch and head towards her. He’d set his hands in hers but flinched back at the temperature of her soft skin.

“They’re so cold,” He chuckled softly, resting his crinkled eyes on hers. Y/n gave a half smile back when she felt his warm breath on her skin, her hands now clutched together with his and raised up to his mouth in an attempt to warm them up. Soon, without any control, Y/n’s dimpled cheeks turned scarlet at the sight of him placing a tender line of kisses on her fingertips. He dropped both their hands after a moment and felt himself heat up from just seconds before. Did he really just do that?

“I’ll get you some dry clothes,” He stuttered, starting for the hallway to his bedroom, but turned back to meet her eyes again. “Wait, actually I’ll get you a towel,” Y/n nodded. The patter of his footsteps up the stairwell faded into the atmosphere, just like the weather that had managed to calm from a ravaging storm to an ambient patter of raindrops.

As her clothes were extremely wet and her presence not quite welcome in her eyes, she remained standing in open space of living room. Her damp stocking feet missed the rug and only walked around on the wood floor while Corbyn was busy.

“Here, I got you both just in case.” Y/n looked over her shoulder to see him slightly panting with some folded clothes in his hand.

“Thank you Corbyn.” She smiled.

“And you can use my bathroom.” He said lightly, watching her brush past him and up the stairs. He followed behind her after a minute to go into his room. Y/n shut the door as soon as she got into his bathroom. She sauntered slowly to the mirror, and with the belief that she had complete privacy - although Corbyn was in his bedroom - she got changed into Corbyn’s sweatpants and hoodie.

Corbyn was by the bed, stripping his used sheets and replacing them with fresh clean ones for Y/n, when he heard her crying. A sudden pit weighed him down to sit on the edge of the bed, white sheets clutched lazily between his fingers and face now dulled into a mixture of all sorts of emotions. Something must’ve happened with this stupid idiotic boyfriend of hers. He pushed himself to hide his thoughts away though. Y/n couldn’t know that he heard her, so he forced himself up again to finish changing the sheets.

The click of the doorknob unlocking made Corbyn look up again. Y/n pulled a grin towards him as she walked in closer, clothed in a dry comfy outfit and face free of smudged makeup. With a small glance to the now made bed, he said “you should get some sleep.”

“Yeah,”

“Okay,” He sighed, picking up his phone from the bed. “I can sleep downstairs and you can sleep here.” He looked at her with a ghost of a smile playing at his lips, though it seemed practically non-existent in the subdued warm lighting of bedroom. His eyes dropped down to the sleeves of his sweatshirt. The edges were now darkened, not with raindrops, but with her salty tears he heard fall when she was in the bathroom.

“No, I can sleep downstairs,” Y/n stopped him. Her face was blotchy with red spots from crying. “This is your room.”

“I insist Y/n, and don’t worry I changed the sheets.” He smiled, gulping down the sad feeling creeping up his throat again. “Now come on,” He ushered her over with a wave of his hand. Y/n made her way across his room to his bedside. Corbyn started peeling back the comforter for her to slip inside but he paused when he’d noticed her hair. Her usually luxuriously soft locks were still messily braided in a pair down her back. “Do you want me to take them out?” He asked.

Y/n glanced at him, frozen mid movement as she thought about an answer. “Yes please.” She nodded. Corbyn smiled and shuffled her further on the mattress so they sat on the centre of the bed together - Y/n cross-legged in front of Corbyn who was tending to her hair. Neither of them spoke as he unravelled her braids.

“Okay,” He gave her back a loving pat. “All done.” He smiled as Y/n looked over her shoulder.

“Thanks,” she said. Corbyn had hopped off the bed and Y/n shifted under the covers. The fresh comforter was a brilliant white against her pinkish skin and her hair spread like feathers across the pillow under her head. Corbyn’s eyes lingered on hers, finally softening with the relief that she was safe with him.

“Goodnight.” Y/n’s eyes sparkled under the pleasant warm light of his bedside lamp. Corbyn’s smile that had played at his lips faltered for a second. Then he bent down and placed a soft kiss to her forehead. His delicate lips met her soft supple skin for only a fleeting moment before his lips detached again, pursed and coloured a soft red.

“Goodnight, Y/n. I love you.” He mumbled, placing another lingering kiss to her nose. A quiet flutter of giggles spilled from her lips, and she scrunched her nose at the ticklish feeling.

“Love you too.” She replied, glancing back at the boy close to her.

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harryswatermelonsegment · 4 years

Text

Pool Party

Pairing: Reader/Harry Styles

Rating: R, text book smut

Word Count: 5k 😳

Warnings: Slight sub/dom tones I guess? & alcohol consumption

A/N: Sorry this is late, life somewhat resuming here in the UK so it means I’m back at my job. I managed to fall asleep mid edit folks 😳, this is my entry for the @helladirections Summer Feeling Fic Challenge, with the prompt “pool party” click the link for the masterlist. I’m still writing two more, one for @berrynarrybanana ‘s Sex Bucketlist Challenge but it’s turning out to be a 20k slow burn I wasn’t expecting 😬.Oops. But enjoy this one, I’m proud of her. My one other blatant thirst fic can be found here. Reblogs get free gratitude for the next 5 years 🍉💕

You'd been friends with Jeff since your teens, when his parents (despite their wealth), wanted him to get a job at the restaurant you worked at. In their rightful thinking, they wanted him to learn you had to work from the ground up.

Despite your clearly different class background you found a ton of common interests making the whole thing immaterial. He was a caring, down to earth guy and you were both people who really enjoyed sarcastically taunting each other every shift. You'd got used to visiting his house in the hills even though you'd been scared to get lost at first around his parents large house. Becoming solid friends quickly, you'd managed to keep in touch, as much as adult life would now allow anyway.

You knew his main role was managing a pop star but you'd not caught up in a minute and when you did, you kept your job chat out of the conversation where you could. This is why, as you barge through the kitchen, to the pool outside, you're shocked to nearly knock a stunned Harry Styles onto his behind.

"Fuck, shit I'm so sorry" you clutch your chest looking at the red wine on his tank top and his now empty glass. The soiled garment was tucked into some dressy shorts and partly covered by a loud hawaiian patterned shirt. Oh god what had you done?

You were quite honestly mortified. You'd never actually met the man himself, usually meeting Jeff at his for a few drinks or at a restaurant. You'd heard him mentioned in stories about travelling or how his campaigns were running Jeff into the ground with meetings. So, although you weren't a massive fan of his per se, in the way you didn't ask Jeff for updates or info, the way you'd hope you'd meet the attractive pop star was definitely not this.

He looked down at the offending stain then back up into your eyes, keeping his head angled down and blinking through his lashes. You couldn't read his blank expression and it put you on edge.

Maybe it was the heat trapped in the doorway, but as your eyes stayed locked you suddenly felt a fire spread from your navel up to your cheeks, and then from your center down to your toes. Your lower stomach clenched as you stared back at the guy covered in a good 2007 French rouge.

Fuck me he's pretty, you thought.

A rapid film reel of moments; sweaty bodies, those large biceps holding you against the nearest wall, smacking of lips against skin and moans of release flashed in your brain.

It had definitely been a while since you had got laid in your defense, your mood and pent up sexual frustration getting worse by the day as you tried and failed at the L. A. dating scene. Maybe you were picky, but horny and picky was an awful place to be.

However, the reality of the embarrassing scene you were currently a star of, flipped you back into the present.

Seemingly over the initial incident and hopefully not a mind reader to your thirsty brain, he takes you in and smirks.

Harry knew from the way your breathing hitched looking at his torso that you were at least a bit interested. He had clocked you the second you walked in through the big glass doors. A shirt of a band he liked and a natural beauty he wanted to spend some times with you he pondered. Ideally naked.

Zig zagging across the world promoting the album and had left little time to enjoy another person. Status and obligation to his job making it hard to just go out and meet someone. But here you were, dressed unlike anyone else, looking absolutely adorable in your embarrassment. You must be trustworthy if you're in Jeff's home,he wasn't a "bring your friends too" kind of host with his clients usually around.

This could be a fun evening for you both, he thought. Something unspoken, almost magnetic, drawing you both to one another. Surely that wasn't all his side right?

"I was told it was a good year, but I wasn't planning on consuming it quite this way?" inwardly he rolled his eyes at the barely there quip. But you laughed anyway.

"I am so, so awfully sorry, look, let's see if there's some dish liquid or something, possibly some of my next months rent in there too if I have to replace it" you let out a nervous laugh as you walked towards the kitchen. But in all honesty you weren't kidding.

Harry laughed at your sarcastic remark, impressed by your confidence in owning the situation and getting on with things. He casually watched your hips sway past a few people in to the open plan kitchen with as much subtlety as he could, you were confidentially locating all the parts needed to try and remove the offending stain.

"You seem to know your way around 'ere. I'm er…I'm Harry by the way" awkwardly waving as you mixed some solution in the sink drenching a sponge in it.

"Yeah" you smiled turning from the sink with the damp rag "known Jeff a good while, have definitely spilt red wine here before. I'm Y/N" you giggle. The beam from his own mouth matching.

"Ah! Y/N, of course, I've heard him mention you, didn't you once hide rotting mackerel in a unpleasant guys blazer?" he chuckled

"Heyyyy. Only after he spanked my ass getting him the check. Deserved a hot plate to the crotch too" you shot back.

You weren't sure where to go from here the thought of wetting down the white tank yourself definitely appealed but also seemed far too forward.

"Um…" you began gesturing with the sponge in your hand. You expected him to take it from you to sort himself out but..

"Oh yeah sorry" he replied shimmying his shirt off, dumping it on the back of a bar stool, then, crossing his arms across his stomach and lifting the tank top over his head you were slack jawed and frozen taking in the lean muscles and tattoos littered intermittently across his abdomen. He spread the top across the islands worktop flat, then grabbing the sponge with a simple "thanks" and knitting his eyebrows together in concentration as he tried to rid the dull red mark from it's center.

You still hadn't moved. A pink twinge to your cheeks as you watched his shoulder blades and back muscles scrubbing. Dirty thoughts circling your brain still.

"I would have helped you but I didn't want to start a wet tshirt contest in such a high end establishment yknow?" you thought out loud.

"Oh yeah, good call. I'm fiercely competitive Y/N so would probably be under that fancy waterfall thing by now showing off m'moves in my pants" he wiggles his hips trying to suggestively show you his "moves" but you can't help but smirk at just how endearing this man is. Dammit.

When he's finished with his shirt he drapes it over another barstool before handing you the sponge back.

If anyone asks him if he blatantly and deliberately got naked to gauge if you were into him he'd definitely deny it. But the truth is, he definitely did. Luckily for him, with the way you bite your lip and drag your eyes down his flesh as he brushes past your side to get back to the sink, he's right.

"Speaking of getting in the water in your" you use air quotes "'pants' I'm off to get out of mine" you declare, pushing yourself from the counter and keeping eye contact a second as you stroll back to the sliding doors leading to the pool.

"I… What??"

" The pool Harry?.... What did you think I meant?" you narrow your eyes and press your lips together before shutting the glass door again and turning once more to smirk at the opened mouthed man still by the sink.

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

You'd been schmoozing in the water for a few hours now. There were probably only 20 or so people still here and the 3rd frozen marg had got you buzzed. You were in the small hot tub type pool, attached at the top of the main one on a slightly higher level. You hadn't seen Harry for a while but the last few times you caught his eye he'd been surrounded by at least 3 other people fighting for his attention, so you banked your flirtations to soothe your own ego, grabbed another marg and tried to forget about how he had started a tornado inside you, yearning for his hands on your thighs and head peering up at you from where they met in the middle. The strong pull of lust was clearly in your head then. What a shame.

You put it to the back of your mind as you finished catching up with Glenne. Both flushed and giggly as usual, she was the perfect match for Jeff and their chemistry unmatchable. You always enjoyed hanging out with the both of them, if anything, they gave you hope your own match may be out there. She left you in the tub alone, as she went to grab herself another drink and check on her host duties boyfriend.

"Don't you find drinking whilst already in water the weirdest thing?" you look up to find Harry standing over your right shoulder as you sit with your back against the pool wall and your elbows propping you up behind you, drink in one hand. His eyes unsubtley slip down to where your breasts lay pushed together in your halter neck bikini. You definitely weren't imagining it then. Fucking fantastic, you think.

"I mean drowning yourself on the inside from the alcohol and being in more than 4 inches of water really adds a danger element to my life if I'm honest" you reply sipping your drink.

And there goes those dimples again.

He's just in a pair of yellow swimming shorts now which doesn't help the alcohol flush at all. Sitting by your right side, putting his short glass full of amber liquid and ice, on the side of the pool and sliding in to join you. He leaves a small gap, as to not appear a total letch but your smart mouth has him hooked.

Taking a sip of his drink with the water up to his collar bones he hums.

"I do feel incredibly dangerous now, you've got a point"

"I mean if you think that's danger" you edge closer, not drunk but buzzed enough to take your chances you whisper into the shell of his ear. "You should see what thrills are in the guest bathroom. 1st floor on the right? " he chokes on his drink as your suggestive whispers make his dick twitch. He definitely couldn't get out of the pool for a while.

You're gone before you get a verbal reaction. If this all goes badly then you can just hide in there and slip out to an Uber and never see Jeff again right? Right. Cool.

With a soft white towel around you and your heart rate high as you reach the main guest bedroom you enter the room, you notice a large weekend bag in there and freeze. Shit. Someone's staying over, you hadn't factored that in, but a glance to the tag and the embossed H. E. S tells you you're good. Well, if not you'll just be a creep hiding in someone's bathroom but let's not think about it too much. Your faux confidence was working well so far and what other chance was going to arise like this one? Hot celebrities need fun with strangers too right?

Entering the bathroom you rub the towel over you, leaving mostly dry skin. You'd peel away your bikini if you were definite you wouldn't need to peel it back up your limbs should this plan backfire. You move to the mirror to adjust the black flecks from your minimal makeup dispersing under your eye and just as you're about to smooth down the stray baby hairs that humidity has got to around your face, you see Harry appear in the mirror behind you. Your belly flipping over and over with the thrill he'd took the bait.

Wasting no time he smirks and holds your gaze, wrapping his hands around your waist whilst his lips attach to the junction of your neck and collarbone. His tongue drags over your soft skin and he licks and softly sucks swirls onto it with his plush lips.

"Hm. You're right. This is a more fun type of danger" he says between kisses but before he's even finished his sentence you've spun around in his arms.

The bottom of your spine cold against the marble countertop, arms around his neck as you smash your lips into one another's with urgency. Tongues and wet noises as you get to know one another through your bodies alone.

He runs his hands down your back and presses his hard length against your thigh. He's definitely packing you think as you lift up a little rub your pubic bone against his front, panting out a little moan as the sweet friction of your bodies colliding sends you into overdrive. Catching the noise through your parted lips he gently tugs on the bottom one, teeth grazing the supple flesh. This combined with his large palms kneading your ass and pulling you further, tighter, into the roll of his hips. Only two layers of damp clothing separate you,forcing your lips to break from his mouth and fully moan, not caring who may be around. You could not remember the last time a perfect stranger knew your body quite this well.

His own grunts were speeding up when he suddenly grabs the back of your thighs and hoists you up beside the sink, you gasp in shock but it was more the way the lean man thrusted you up there like it was nothing. What else could he do? You expect him to go back to kissing you but instead he pulls back with his rock hard erection outlined in the wet shorts he still has on. Looking at you dead in the eyes both raging with lust and concern. Whilst you try not to worry how you were going to accommodate him inside your tight walls.

"Is this…? I mean, you want this too right?" his hands are resting at either side of your parted thighs. You nod. "Need you to say it Y/N" he steps forward, lips wet and brushes the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip that was now puffy and pink from the earlier biting. He knew you were down to fuck, but now he wanted to test your preferences. What kind of fun you were about to have shall we say. So when you lick his thumb tip, holding his fist still and grazing your wet tongue up and down from knuckle to tip before closing your eyes and humming around the entire digit, he knew you were both in for a good time.

Removing the thumb he whispers a barely audible "fuck me" before smashing your lips back together, tongues massaging together as he peels your underwear to the side with his hand swiftly and presses digit you'd lubricated with your mouth against your clit, moving it fast from side to side with just the right amount of pressure to make your head spin. Gasping, you throw your head back, hands clasped around his neck as you lean back and feel yourself start to leak a little with arousal. The few spots dripping down on to the counter.

You could say it had been a while but really this guy was moving his way round your body in the same way you tune a guitar in key. Calloused fingers applying the right amount of pressure as you felt yourself start to get to the edge already. He was kissing down the front if your chest, between your breasts, not missing a beat when he pushed both triangles of your bikini aside and you moaned loudly as he kissed and sucked hard around your nipple, tentatively pulling it between his teeth firmly, the sound you let out made him clamp a little harder before sucking in the whole nipple again, soothing the skin his tongue. Most likely leaving a mark behind, but you kind of liked the idea of proof he'd been devouring you in all honesty.

You were becoming blissed out from all the stimulation. Clenching and moving your hips around nothing but this magical thumb working your clit up and down hard. You were overcome with this whole situation playing out the way it had. You broke away from his mouth again.

"Oh fuck.. Harry, I'm… FuckFuck I'm going to come, I'm gonna fucking… Ahhh" he pulled back one arm steadying you as your head hit the mirror behind you in your release. He just watched you and slowed his thumb down watching as the liquid cascaded onto the counter.

After you'd come down you open your eyes and shyly smiled before kissing him passionately, his hands moving around your waist tightly. You moved your hand to his shorts, teasingly grazing the outline of his cock between your fingers in hopes of repaying the favour. He does a single throaty laugh and removes your hand, holding himself against his thigh. You look at him in confusion when he splutters,

"Sorry, sorry its just I'm going t'blow my load if you touch me." then he's back on your lips "Too. Fucking. Sexy" he says between wet kisses to your jaw, neck and clavicle. "Wanted to do this since I first set eyes on you" one hand is on the back of his neck twisting nape curls between your fist whilst the other rests behind you, stopping you from hitting your head on the mirror again.

"Oh yeah? Before or after I ruined your clothes?" you laugh teasingly as he slides his hands around your back to finally remove the bikini top properly, lifting it up over your head and tossing it aside somewhere on the floor. He let's a laugh out himself completely entranced still by how natural you are around him, it was often hard to connect with strangers in his position.

"I'd spotted you walking in, was trying to open the door for you m'love" he says before sucking a red mark into your breast and massaging and pulling the other nipple slightly with his hand.

You struggle through sharp intakes of breath for a reply.

"Well….ah...that's what chivalry.. Oh.. Get's you these days I guess" and you're both laughing a little.

"Hmm. Have to try harder with my manners then won't I? I mean, I've got to clear up the mess I've made here" he cups his hand against your pussy rubbing it up and down a little with his palm. You let out a guttural noise at the friction. "Ladies first and all'tha too right?" he giggles again at himself.

You're practically cumming right then, you couldn't remember the last time someone actually went down on you. Your previous boyfriend not particularly into offering you foreplay. A main point of why he didn't stick around too long.

Harry kisses down your abdomen now, soft sloppy, sensual pecks, humming into your skin every so often in appreciation as he works at removing your soaked bikini bottoms with his hands, pushing them down to your knees before you help, letting them fall from the remaining ankle to the ground.

Harry is moving far too slow for you, kissing across each hip down to the top of your slit, breathing over where you desperately need him before paying the other side the same attention. Then he's licking up each crease where your thigh meets your pelvis.

"Y/N, just.. Just turn, that's it and lean back as far as you can there, shuffle forward until can't balance anymore" you shift your ass as forward as possible on the lip of the sink and prop yourself up on your elbows trying to be as flat as possible on the cold counter as you could, your toes behind the sink with one foot the other dangling over the edge. You keep you thighs open as Harry hunches over the counter where you now lay diagonal. He places his arms under your thighs and bends your legs flat out as he can stretch you, you're expecting some more teasing but he just looks down at your pussy licking over his lips and almost whining before burying his tongue inside you immediately. The force of his tongue lapping up your previous climax causes you once again to knock the side of your head against the mirrored wall. You turn and watch the scene almost as a spectator, witnessing yourself bare to this beautiful man, curly brown hair between your fists and making sounds like he's savouring every taste. He catches you watching before taking his mouth off you, immediately, you're whining in protest.

"Watch my eyes not my reflection baby, I'm right here"

His authoritative tone eclipsing every thought you had about the casual nickname, you stared down at the wonderful site of him lapping and suckling on your clit. Pointed tongue and firm laps against the swollen button. He then starts lapping up at your glistening hole,unhooking an arm to spread your lips open between his fingers and licking right from the bottom to the top with all the sloppy wet noises involved. He was feeling you contract as he locked faster and faster over you. His tongue deserved an award never mind his music. You couldn't believe you were on the brink of a second orgasm so quickly but when he sunk his middle finger into you at the same pace his tongue was working at, you were screaming his name into the extractor fan above before you knew it. You felt waves of liquid cascade from your pussy as he gently lapped up the produce of his work from you. You flinched in overstimulation but he cleaned up every last drop tenderly before carefully closing your legs and pivoting you round to your previous sitting up position on the counter. Neither of you had spoken a word since you came but as he leads your arms to drape over your shoulders, holding your fucked out body against his chest whilst peppering your temple with soft pecks . Then he kisses you intensely, letting you taste the sweet juices of yourself on his lips. You hummed in approval of the sweet taste as you came round.

A few minutes of carnal making out and things were heating up again. Your hands cupping his jaw then sliding to graze fingernails up and down his back, digging them in a little harder now and again and causing goosebumps to pierce through the skin rapidly under your touch.

You could feel him swallowing down grunts from the friction he was getting from his shorts covered cock brushing up and down between your slick folds.

He'd made you cum twice. Hard. He always got off of making his partners cum of course, so he was feeling beyond turned on and the slight heat of your glistening folds against his length was almostvsending him over the edge.

"I want you inside me" you whispered against his lips desperately.

No sooner had you said the words, his left hand was frantically searching through the vanities top drawer in hope. Finding a packet, checking the date quickly then tearing it between his teeth, spitting the seal onto the floor and pushing his shorts to his ankles, stepping out of them at speed before kicking them away.

He smirked when he caught your eyes bulge at his cock. He knew it was above average but the reaction was always a further compliment he thought.

Stepping forward he put on a show of putting the condom on, first rubbing the drops of sticky pre cum at the head and down his length keeping his eyes locked to yours as you wriggled on the counter with anticipation. He whined a little as it squeezed him rolling it on, so red and over sensitive from turning you on. So that's why, when you grabbed for it, he stilled your hand. Dimples appearing back in his cheeks as you looked again in confusion. He kisses you, languishing the moment before grabbing you forward from the countertop to the floor again, still keeping your lips attached. He lightly grips at your hips and turns you round to face the mirror once more.

Harry lightly grabs your throat, and the way you whimper and push your ass back against him, makes him mentally bank that idea for later perhaps. He runs his left hand up the column of your neck lightly holding your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him with his hand on your face and the other already working up and down your folds.

"I want you to watch us. Want you to watch yourself come apart. Want to watch you cum around my cock yeah? " he whispers in your ear. You noticeably shiver with excitement of what's to come.

"Please Harry, please, need it, need you."

You watch yourself babble and beg for his cock. The pathetic whimper from yourself as you try and circle your ass into his crotch again to encourage it happening. You were never patient and he's driving you insane here.

Bringing two fingers infront of your lips as you watch yourself in the mirror he looks you dead in the eye through the reflection.

"Spit" so you do, "good girl" he says kissing your cheek. His saliva lubed fingers are back rubbing your clit quickly whilst his knee nudges the back of yours to spread your feet wider as he kisses the back of your neck and shoulders. When he pauses next you're not expecting the hard thrust of him entering you entirely, sure you were dripping wet with the result of two orgasms but you cry out in a mix of stretch and pleasure as he pounds into you at a furious pace. His spare hand not on your clit is holding the bottom of your spine down as he keeps up his rhythm. His pace was that of a man desperate for release after watching you fall apart on his fingers and tongue. The build up meant he was already close as you tight walls fluttered around him. He pleads with you to stop tightening your walls around him or he's not going to last he whimpers.

You were already close again, you'd never cum this many times or this quickly in your life but you were ready for another round and by the sounds of him and the stutter his pace kept slipping you knew he was close too.

You quickly removed his hand, sucking your own fingers into your mouth to replace his own at your clit.

"M'gonna cum, but… OhOh fuck.. But need you harder. Deeper" you manage to get out.

He grunts a curse before squeezing your hips at a pressure that will leave marks tomorrow but the delight in the speed he was now able to snap his hips against the swells of your ass, was well worth it. It only took a few more seconds with the fingers that knew you best, for you to gush against his cock. Feeling absolutely exhausted you slump your sweaty chest onto the cold counter.

His orgasm taking him by surprise when you clenched up to milk him dry. He all but shouts your name as his hips stutter and you feel the warmth of his cum fill the one barrier between you.

His lips were back on your sweaty neck for a second whilst he disposed of the used condom. He ran the walk in shower and wordlessly you took his offered hand to join him under the hot spray. You'd never had an encounter end like this before not that you were a seasoned professional but after 3 orgasms the way his hands moved round your body under the water, washing away your antics with sweet strawberry-banana smelling suds on the flannel, left you with a warm floaty feeling the worn off alcohol never had.

He gently wipes your makeup from under your eyes then, smiling at the cute way your nose wrinkles slightly as he rubs at each eyebrow.

"I don't even have words" you finally laugh out blushing, not able to stand his gauge as you say it.

"Oh. So that's how to make that smart mouth o'yours stop is it? " he grins, you gasp in mock offense and go to say something but going under your chin with his thumb with his forefinger to connect your lips under the warm water spray he kisses you when you pull away you can't help but ask.

"So does this make us even on one ruined fancy vest then?"

"Hmmmm" he ponders with both hands on your face looking at the ceiling out if the falling water. " I'm not sure, I mean it was a custom, pretty high going rate those yeah"

"Yeahhhh you're right, you're right. Better factor in the cost of the custom job then hadn't I huh?"

You hurriedly sink to your knees on the tiled floor.

#harry styles #1d #harries #one direction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fandom #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #summer feeling fic challenge

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eirenical · 3 years

Text

First Lines Meme

First Lines Meme:

Rules: Make your own post, then list the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

I was tagged by @elenothar and @missfangirll to do this and it's been a while since the last time I did, so let's go. ^_^

(All links are to the respective tumblr posts which have extensive tags and warnings. I’ve tried to note the major warnings, but if you go to the post, then you’ll get everything. ^_^)

"You leave him alone! If you touch even one hair on his head, I'll—!" –Reclamation, LFS x XXC, LFS x Xu Rui’an, GYADL (Rape/Noncon Warning, rated: e)

It started with a tomb, like so many things did. –When is a Curse Not a Curse? When It's a Gift, Wu Xie x Xiaoge, Iron Triangle Feels, TLTR

Wu Xie glanced down at his watch: waterproof, scratch resistant, state of the art, GPS enabled, it had saved his ass on more than one tomb adventure gone wrong. –the stories say more than that, Wu Xie x Xiaoge, DMBJ novels (hints of TLT2 and TLTR), rated: e

“Does he know?” –A Man Obsessed, Grantaire & Javert, Les Mis

"—n-jiaoshou!" –beyond the end of the story, Shen Wei x Zhao Yunlan, Da Qing & Shen Wei & Zhao Yunlan, Guardian (Grievous Bodily Harm warning, podfic available by the immensely talented @flamingwell ^_^)

One month. –Awakening, LFS x XXC, GYADL (Rape/Noncon warning), rated: m

"A-ha!" –Nothing but Filial, Da Qing & Zhao Yunlan, Guardian

Shen Wei lowered his spoon back into his bowl, then slowly pushed the bowl to the side. –Soup Is the Highest Expression of Love... but So Is a Venus Hand Trap In the Right Circumstances, Shen Wei x ZYL, Shen Wei & Ye Zun, Da Qing & Ye Zun, Guardian

"As promised." –To Steal a Jujube, Grim Reaper x Sanchez, Hotel del Luna

Five had never had a family. –Meeting in the Middle, Four & Five, Dark Matter

"Well, I suppose you can give this one points for a mild amount of ingenuity, but still… blue ice cream?" –Love Must Be… Mango?, Fah x OFC, Aon x Boy, Cornetto "Unexpected Love" Commercial

Zhao Yunlan didn't look up at the soft 'click' of the bathroom door opening, busy arranging blankets and pillows on the couch. –The Inherent Intimacy of Walking Barefoot Around Someone Else's Home, Shen Wei x ZYL, Guardian

"…he won't thank you, you know." –This is Not a Shovel Talk, Shen Wei x ZYL, Chen Xingyan & Shen Wei, Guardian

Luo Fusheng had lived much of his adult life in the hours between sunset and sunrise. –Nostalgia, GYADL (Rape/Noncon warning), rated: e

Luo Fusheng matched the head guard’s gaze stare for stare. –Afterlife, LFS x XXC, GYADL, rape/noncon mentions

“Where do you think you’re going?" –Grief, Hong Lan & Lin Ruomeng, GYADL

The guards had left Fusheng his watch, a cruel joke at best when he could no longer trust it. –Obedience, LFS x XXC, GYADL

In the heat of battle, time slows. It dilates, expands, turns back on itself to make way for feats of heroics. –…indefinitely…, LFS x XXC, though mostly gen, GYADL

Jin Ling had never known his father. –Legacies Lost, LWJ x WWX, The Untamed

Ye Zun didn’t look up when a shadow passed by him on the couch. –If You're Going to Lay on a Couch, You need to Protect Your Sensitive Bits... and Resign Yourself to Becoming a Cat Bed, Da Qing & Ye Zun, Shen Wei & Ye Zun, Guardian

Bonus: "Xiaoge, the door!" –WiP, working title: this jadeite is too big, Wu Xie x Xiaoge, Iron Triangle Feels, DMBJ novels/TLTR (there will be a dubcon warning on this one when it goes up)

Discussion under the cut. ^_^

So, I seem to be leaning hard into the "let's just drop you into the middle of some dialogue" thing these days, eh? ;D 9/21 of them seem to start that way. I find that it's a really fun way to just dump people right into the action and get on with it. ^_^

Also noticed a bit of a trend (especially in my Guardian fic) to have titles that are longer than my first lines. XD Oops.

That being said, on the whole, I think my first lines tend to vary. My LAST lines, OTOH, almost all follow a VERY particular pattern: Clause A… Clause B (often very sappy ;D). For example:

Surrounded by the warmth of his friends, and with the world finally, blessedly silent around him… Wu Xie slept. –When is a Curse Not a Curse? When it is a Gift., TLTR

And Wu Xie would keep his silence and let Pangzi tell the tale however he saw fit, because it would make Xiaoge smile, and if it would make Xiaoge smile… then Wu Xie would relish every minute of it. –the stories say more than that, DMBJ novels (hints of TLT2 and TLTR)

You get the idea. XD Sometimes I vary off that, but NOT OFTEN. Even if the punctuation changes up, I tend to keep to the same rhythm. I don't know why that appeals to me so much for ending lines, but there we are. ^_^

As for a favorite from among the 21 up there… it has to be #14 from Nostalgia. It's just… so bittersweet? Melancholic? Atmospheric? I don't know, but it paints a definite mood picture in my head that carries on for the rest of the opening, and I love it. ^_^

How about the rest of the paragraph?

Luo Fusheng had lived much of his adult life in the hours between sunset and sunrise. Mei Gao Mei’s shining brilliance, shipments at the docks, transportation of goods that were just the wrong side of legal; all of these things were best served by a backdrop of darkness. So, he was no stranger to “days” spent mostly under the harsh glare of artificial lights. But even for Fusheng, the unrelenting sameness of lights that were never fully turned off, of the lack of windows to even view the night sky, eventually took their toll. He could no longer tell whether it was day or night, and even meals—simple meals, thoroughly unexciting, and utterly the same from one to the next—were not enough to help him track the passage of time.

OMG, so many people I know who write have already been tagged in this. I’ll try to think of a few of you who haven’t been, or that I at least haven’t seen it, but in the meantime, if you would like to do this, consider yourself tagged, and please tag me in your response so I can come see it!

Tagging: @besanii, @enechelon, @fixaidea, @kholran, @onemuseleft, @dreamer-wisher-liar, @jadedbirch, @porthos4ever, and as mentioned above, anyone else who wants to do this, please do!

#ask meme answers #first lines meme #eirenical writes things

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boneswriteswords · 4 years

Note

Billy and Stu leaving goodnight messages as ghost face to their SO that are slightly threatening and possessive

I wrote this and lost it twice and I am very upset. It also took on a direction I wasn’t aiming for because I can never get requests right and it got sweeter than I had planned because I wanted to play into a fear kink but I failed.

Yeah I went way off the rails. Oops.

I hope you like it anyway! I tried!

The phone rang, the shrill sound echoing off the kitchen tiles. Your stomach clenched, nerves firing. After five weeks of consecutive calls, around the same time every night, you knew who it was. The Woodsboro Killer. You aren’t sure how you managed to catch his attention but you had and ever since, he’s been calling you. Asking you questions about horror movies. Cooing at you when you get them correct and wishing you a good night.

You hurried around the kitchen island to pick up the phone. He got agitated whenever you didn’t pick up in the first three rings, especially since he only called when he knew you were in the room with the phone.

“Hi,” you greet quietly into the receiver, “How are you tonight?”

His smooth voice chuckles, “So polite. Its adorable.”

“Whats my question tonight?” you ask, unable to resist and you kick yourself for it.

“Oh? Whats the rush tonight?” he asks, a cold terseness settling into his tone, “Got a hot date?”

“I don’t think heating up leftover pizza and watching Carrie alone counts as a hot date,” you murmur, leaning back against the wall in a slouch, “but I’m not alone anymore am I? You’re here. You’re watching me.”

You knew he was but, despite logic telling you that you should be scared, begging the police for protection, you weren’t. Before these phone calls - something you aren’t quite ready to admit that you look forward too - you were always alone, a somber sum of grey matter that was as indistinguishable from any other. Your parents are always gone. People at school avoided you, finding your quietness to be eerie. You spent all your free time volunteering with animals because people were too much for you, too intimidating, too complicated. They never said what was on their mind but they expected you to know anyway.

It made you feel...almost...nice knowing that someone was watching you. That someone noticed you. Even if that someone was the Woodsboro killer that had killed over seven people and was terrorizing your town.

If anything, the fear that gripped you was the fear of a painful death and while this man was linked to that possible outcome, he was not connected to the fear.

“Smart girl,” he purred into the phone, “I am. I always am. I know where you are at all times.”

“Yeah, I know,” you agree, the corner of your lip twitching up the briefest bit, “And I’m pretty sure you’d kill anyone I went on a date with. I couldn’t do it. I’m not worth dying over.”

There is a pause and you wonder what he’s thinking. You rub the sweat that gathered on your palms on your sweatpants. Thoughts started swirling around in your head and you start to listen for noises in the house. Had he broken in? Was he waiting for you? Did his silence mean you were about to die?

“Who directed the first Halloween movie in 1978?” he asked calmly, timber slowing down into a his usual purr. The warmth was back in his voice.

You furrowed your brow in confusion at the sudden change of topic, “John Carpenter. He scored it too.”

“Very good, brilliant girl.”

“Um...”you start but clamp your lips close, trying desperately to not drop kick your survival instinct out of the window.

“Yes pretty girl?” he chuckled, “What were you going to say? I heard that ‘um.’ I can see you trembling with nerves. Why are you scared kitten? Its just me.”

“That question was...easy.”

The silence that greeted you was cold and you hated yourself.

“Whats wrong with that?”

The coldness in the voice was cacophonous in its steadiness and you wanted to cry.

“I just...I-I”

“Yes!?”

“I just wanted to know if you were okay,” you say, louder than you intended, “I-I...Your whole thing is asking questions and killing the people who get it wrong. You usually ask me things that are more obscure, designed to trip me up. Its part of the game You show your dominance by besting them in trivia. It makes the killings better. I...I’m just confused.”

He remains quiet but the breathing over the phone deepens so you throw all caution to wind.

“Why haven’t you killed me? Its been weeks. I’m going to get a question wrong one night and it’ll be my turn to die. If the endgame is just my death, why are you prolonging it?”

You can feel the tears welling up and you take a deep breath away from the receiver, savoring it since you know damn well it is probably one of your very last ones.

“Oh, pretty girl. You know us so well,” he coos, “But not well enough it seems. We don’t want to kill you. You mean too much to us, babe. We’ll talk to you tomorrow Y/N. Good night, little love of ours.”

There was a click and the dial tone sounded in your ears, your head spinning.

‘We?’

~~~

End

~~~

#scream imagine #billy loomis #stu macher #billy loomis x stu macher x reader #poly ghostface #slasher imagine #ghostface imagine #My writing

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kirishimaskousin · 3 years

Text

Finding Out His S/O Can Sing

Please enjoy these fluffy head cannon/one shots for Bakugou, Kirishima, and Denki. I linked all the songs, and 100% recommend them.

Warnings: none

A/N: I don’t think each student has their own bathroom in the AU dorms,,,,but I’ve taken creative liberties. fight me. Also, I tried not to be too specific about gender or race, but Kirishima’s is about wash day sooooo. (my blackness is showin....not sorry)

Bakugou Katsuki

Song: Kiss You Right Now by Duckworth

It was Saturday evening. You had come to Bakugou’s dorm earlier that morning to study for a big test.

Bakugou sat at his desk and you sat cross legged on his bed, surrounded by notes and books.The studying was going well...

Until you fell asleep.

“(Y/N) Do you have notes from chapter–”

He turned around to see you sprawled out on his bed. If it was anyone else, he’d be mad that they were wasting his time. Instead, he just looked over your frame. He studied the rise and fall of your chest, the slight twitch in your lips, and the small sliver of torso that peeked from under your tousled shirt.

He picked up the notes you were laying on so that you didn’t crumple them any further and left you to go train.

When he returned, he expected you to still be asleep or to be gone to study on your own.

So, when he heard a muffled voice coming from his room, he stood listening for a moment.

The voice was mellow and effortlessly enchanting. He’d never admit it, but he wanted to stay there listening forever.

He cracked open the door just enough to see you sitting at his desk and wearing one of his large hoodies with your headphones in. You were facing away from him, doing more singing than studying, so he stepped inside to watch you dance around in your seat.

You fell silent for a moment, and Bakugou opened his mouth to speak. Before he could call you out though, you began to sing in a more sensual tone.

“I think I wanna kiss you, right here in front of everybody, right now.”

A blush crept up bakugou’s neck, and a crooked smile played on his lips. He rubbed the hairs on the back of his neck as he tried to make a decision.

“I think I wanna miss you, purposely leave so I can come back to you, right now.”

Part of him wanted to keep listening, drinking in your buttery voice.

The other part of him wanted to wrap his arms around you from behind and give you the kisses you sang about.

And a teeny tiny part of him just wanted to scare you.

“That's some holy matrimony, how we joining our lips. Holy moly the one and only to grip on yo hips.”

With those exciting words, your dark voice, and the languid motion of your head, he made up his mind.

With two large strides, he crossed the room and spun you around in his chair.

The sudden movement made you jump and clutch your chest, but you barely got the chance to scold your smirking boyfriend before he planted a harsh kiss on your lips.

One of your headphones laid on the desk, still playing as Bakugou kissed your breath away.

“When I kiss you, Right her in front of everybody, right now.”

As if he could hear your lungs screaming for air, Bakugou pulled away and walked towards his shower.

“If you wanted to kiss me, you could have just said it.” And he shut the bathroom door behind him.

Denki Kaminari

Song: Electricity by: Sam Pinkerton

Class 1-A was still riding the high from the school festival. Everyone had worked so well together and had so much fun showing off their talents that they decided to have their very own class talent show.

Chatter and giggles filled the common room as everyone piled onto the plush couches. You were running a bit behind, so all the seats were filled when you got there.

You scanned the group, looking for a seat on the floor with the best view of the “stage”. Before you could find your seat, Denki called out to you.

“I saved you a seat right here.” He patted his lap and you chuckled a little.

Kaminari never really cared about PDA. He was so proud to call you his girlfriend and he took every chance to show the world that you were together. He’d hold your hand in the market, pull you close when you shared a booth at a restaurant, and even stole kisses on your strolls.

For the most part, you were okay with his affections, but you rarely let him do such things around your classmates. You knew they’d tease you relentlessly, and mineta would definitely be a perv about it.

But, everyone was focused on their conversations, so you took your seat in Denki’s lap.

“What’s cracking cutie?” He laughed, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Excited to show off your talent?”

“Um, not really.” You held up your hand to show your trembling fingers. “I’m a bit nervous.” You’d been a part of the technical team for the school festival, so no one had to see you, but today there'd be so many pairs of eyes on you. and Shoji’s quirk didn’t help

Denki grabbed your hand and brought it to his cheek. “Don’t worry babe, I know you’re gonna be great”

“You don’t even know what my talent is.”

“That is true,” he let out giggle “but everything you do is amazing. I believe in you.” He gave you a quick peck on your cheek. You weren’t sure if it was your nerves, your heart, or Denki’s quirk, but you felt a spark where his lips had been. Denki pulled you in tight, as everyone began to perform.

The talent show was almost over, and it was your turn. You looked to Jiro, who was plugging her guitar into an amp. She nodded to you once you were ready, and you took the stage.

Looking at all your classmates made your stomach flip, so you looked to your boyfriend instead. He sat there in his pikachu onesie I couldn’t help myself clapping his hands with the biggest smile on his face.

A smile that eased your nerves.

Jiro began to play, you closed your eyes, and let the words fall from your lips.

“I remember the first time that I ever looked you in the eye”

The smile on Denki’s face slowly melted into an amazed gasp. He’d call you an angel before, but he was starting to think there was more truth to that pet name than he originally thought.

The lyrics dripped off your tongue like syrup, and your voice wrapped him in a warm embrace.

‘I love you like I never stopped. I need you not to break my heart”

You opened your eyes, staring into Denki’s. Everyone was leaning forward in their seats, but you only noticed Denki.

“The electricity between you and me”

A blush dusted the tip of his nose as you shared sickeningly sweet stares. His proud gaze filled you with confidence to sing harder. As long as you were singing to him, everything would be fine.

Before you knew, the song ended and Denki was released from his trance.

“WOOOOOOOHH!! THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND EVERYONE!” Denki ran up to you, pulling you into a suffocating hug and jumping up and down. Heat rose in your cheeks. His praise meant the world to you.

Eijiro Kirishima

Song: If I Was Your Woman cover by: Alicia Keys

Kirishima had heard you sing many times before. You two would sit down to play a video game or watch funny videos, and end up singing silly made up songs until Mr. Aizawa came to yell at you about breaking curfew.

Kirishima hadn’t heard your real voice though. Whenever you sang together, your notes were broken up by fits of giggles and silly dance moves.

He didn’t know how well you could sing until the day you brought all your hair and skin care products to his room. It was one of your few days off from hero training, and you were in desperate need of a wash day, but you also wanted to spend time with Kiri, so you decided to compromise.

Wash day in Kirishima’s room!!

He just sat back as you connected to his speaker, played your washday playlist and disappeared into his bathroom.

The songs on the playlist were all soulful and rhythmic, something Kiri wasn’t used to.

This guy def listens to EDM and rap 25/8

He just sprawls out on his back and savors the domestic symphony. The sweet melodies, the sound of your shower, and your light hums all wash over him.

Kirishima is at peace, and nearly falls asleep. But, his ears perk up as he hears your voice spilling under the bathroom door. You weren’t humming anymore. You were actually singing, and it was heavenly.

“If I was your woman and you were my man”

He had definitely underestimated your talent. Your voice was soft but textured, like you were pulling the lyrics from your very core. He turned the speaker down to hear you better.

“You're a part of me but you don't even know it. I’m what you need but I'm too afraid to show it.”

You were filling the song with passion and heartache, but it came so easily. Your voice was so strong and clear, unlike anything he’d ever heard from you.

Kirishima, captivated by the song, got up to stand by the bathroom door. You hit every note, rode every riff, and blew him away. Your voice reverberated through the walls as he anticipated the song’s climactic bridge.

“If I were your woman. If I were your woman, here's what I'd do. I'd never, never, stop loving you.”

The words rang in his chest, and tears welled in his eyes. He wanted to suck the tears back up, but even Crimson Riot, the manliest man, would cry at your performance. So he let the droplets fall.

The song ended, and the water turned off. He could hear you padding around the bathroom as you continued to hum to yourself, but He was stuck there, replaying your song over and over in his mind.

You stepped out of the bathroom, steam pooling at your feet. “Why are you standing at the door, Kiri?”

He didn’t answer. He just took in your smaller frame, clad in fuzzy shorts, one of his band tees, and a towel wrapped around your head. How could you be so casual after singing your heart out?

“I- I’m just glad to be your man.” He pulled you into a hug that nearly crushed your ribs.

It took a moment to click, but when it did, you let out an airy chuckle. “Oh you heard me? Oops.”

“Don’t apologize, you sounded so beautiful.”

“Thanks Kiri. I’m glad to be your woman.” You left a soft kiss on his lips then pulled two packages from behind your back. “Now,” you said, excitement bubbling inside of you, “Time for face masks!”

#mha bakugou #mha #mha kirishima #mha kaminari #mha x reader #mha headcanons #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #kaminari x reader #anime #anime blog #kirishima x poc!reader #mha x poc!reader

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procrastinatorimagines · 4 years

Text

Babysitting

Fandom: Chicago Med / One Chicago

Character/s: Will x Reader, Nat, Maggie, Owen

Warning/s: none

Word Count: 1,610

Request: Hello, first I hope you are having a good day! Second, could I please ask for a Will Halstead x Reader? Him and the reader, they are a couple, are taking care of Natalie's son and It's funny and fluffy? Thank you!!

Summary: Will and Y/N agree to babysit Owen for the night so Nat can have a much needed night to herself.

“Really? I- Okay, no I’m sorry of course, okay, thank you, feel better soon, bye.” You heard Nat sigh in frustration as she hung up the phone, standing off to the side as you waited for Will to finish getting changed from shift, Maggie stopping in her tracks in front of her to see what was going on.

“Everything okay Nat?” She asked as Nat rubbed her temple. Both women were dressed up for a night out, the first time in a long time they’d managed to make it work around work and home. Will headed out the door and the two of you started walking, overhearing more of the conversation as you approached.

“It’s- the sitter just cancelled, apparently she has a temperature and doesn’t want Owen to catch it, and now it’s too last minute to call someone else- and Owen isn’t great with strangers anyway-” Nat rambled, clearly exhausted and in serious need of this night with Maggie.

“Nat it’s fine, I understand,” Maggie reassured her, “we can do it another night,” she sounded disappointed but supportive, Maggie hadn’t had an easy time this year and she’d told you this night out was the first time in a while that she was feeling like her old self.

“I know, it’s just it took so long to find the time tonight and we haven’t really spent quality time together in such a long time,” Nat apologised as you and Will caught up to the two women.

“Need someone to watch Owen?” Will asked and all three of you looked to him, “I mean, we could, you deserve the night off Nat and Owen does know me.” Will looked to you and you shrugged, nodding as you turned back to Nat.

“Really? If you guys had plans-” She began but you waved her off.

“Nonsense, we’d be happy to, you both look like you need tonight to yourselves a lot more than we do,” you laughed and Nat smiled in appreciation.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, clicking her tongue in thought, “er spare key’s where it’s always been, I left instructions for the sitter on the fridge, his granma’s are dropping him off home any minute, I’ll call her to let her know you’re coming then.”

“Sounds good,” Will replied. You knew him and Nat were back to being just friends, but he still missed spending time with Owen, and from what you’d seen when Owen came to daycare at the hospital, the feeling was mutual.

“You guys are sure?” Nat double checked before her and Maggie headed off.

“Yes, yes we’re sure, now go, enjoy your night,” you practically ordered them away and Nat nodded at last.

“Come on Nat, Owen’s in good hands,” Maggie told her as their taxi pulled up behind them, “besides, it’ll be good practice for when they decide to have some little redhead’s.” Maggie laughed and Will shook his head, practically shooing them into the car with promises that Owen would be fine, and that they had a night to get started.

They drove off quickly and Will turned to you with a slightly embarrassed smile. You’d been dating for over a year now and you’d never actually talked about having kids, you’d just kind of assumed Will did; the way he was around child patients and the way he was with Owen, he’d definitely make a great dad, but you hadn’t really given it much thought.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Owen’s going to the thrilled to see you,” you linked your arm in Will’s and the both of you headed towards you car, trying to brush off Maggie’s comment even though it was in the back of both your minds.

You probed Will on the drive over for everything you’d need to know about what Owen was like, what he liked and didn’t like, that sort of thing. You’d met him plenty of times, but you’d never actually taken care of him, but you’d spent enough time with your sister’s son to know what some kids could be a little bit more difficult than others.

Will was finishing the story of his black eyes by the time you arrived at the house, and you entered to find Owen playing in the living room while Helen watched over him, looking up when you both entered.

“Will Halstead,” she said with a smile, embracing him in welcome and kissing both his cheeks, “it’s been too long.”

“Yes it has, you look well,” he replied and she thanked him, turning her attention then to you. “Oh, this is my girlfriend, Y/N, Nat might have mentioned she was coming with me.”

“She did, it’s lovely to meet you,” she told you as the noise of building blocks toppling over drew your attention to the little boy barrelling out of the front room, over his creation, and straight to Will, a big grin plastered on his face.

“Will!” Owen yelled, practically slamming into him as he wrapped his arms around his legs in a big hug.

“Oof,” Will steadied himself and picked Owen up, “wow, you are getting so much bigger, soon I won’t even be able to pick you up!” He laughed.

“Okay, well, you’ll only need to watch him a couple of hours before he needs to go to sleep, he’s been fed and Nat left instructions on the fridge, as I’m sure she mentioned,” she informed you both, turned back to Owen and kissing him goodnight.

“I’ll see you very soon sweetheart,” she waved goodbye and he waved back as she left, Owen quickly getting Will to put him down and dragging him by the hand into the living room.

It was only when you were all in there that Owen seemed to notice your presence. “Who are you?” He asked, tilting his head a little as he sat in front of his toys and pulled Will down with him.

“I’m Y/N,” you told him, crouching down to join them.

“Do you know my mommy?” He picked up a block and held it out for you as Will watch on with a smile.

“Yeah I do, she’s a really good friend of mine,” you said, accepting the block with thanks as you shuffled to sit cross-legged on the floor.

“Will’s a really good friend of mine,” Owen informed you excitedly, pushing a giant pile of blocks in Will direction with the instruction to start building.

“Best friends aren’t we buddy?” Will suggested but he shook his head instead.

“I wouldn’t say ‘best’ friends,” he grinned and Will feigned insult as you laughed.

“Yeah he’s not all that great is he?” You joked and Will turned to you and mouthed ‘traitor’. You winked at him in response as Owen burst out laughing.

You were just starting to think that you had this whole kid thing down when you felt a whoosh of air pass your face. Blinking you realised that Will’s hand was in front of your eyes, a building block that Owen had just thrown inches from making contact.

“Oops, sorry,” he told you with a frown, “I thought you were going to catch it,” he explained, sliding you another one towards you slowly.

“We’ll be alright,” Will told you as he split some of his pile with yours. “How about I help Y/N make one? The two of us won’t nearly be able to make something as good as you.” He double checked with Owen, who just nodded, suddenly engrossed in his building.

The night consisted of a lot more building and a lot more destruction as you and Will played Owen’s game, which was either called ‘bulldozer’ or ‘explosion’, it changed each time but honestly they were both as disasterous as each other. But still, he was happy, and he was getting much better at balancing and building, he just had a tendancy to like watching them topple down, as children do.

Eventually it was time to put Owen to bed, something he was very reluctant about, you’d barely convinced him to put his pajamas on when he decided to climb onto your back, hiding from Will, who was getting his tooth brush ready so he could brush his teeth before bed.

Once you’d finally convinced him to get fully ready for bed he had sat with his arms crossed on his sheets and refused to fall asleep, which was more adorable than annoying given the fact that he was out like a light 15 minutes and a short story from you and Will later.

You both crept out the room once he was out, shutting the door lightly behind you and all but collapsing into each other as you leaned against the wall in the hallway, laughing quietly to yourselves.

“Wasn’t so bad,” you told him after a minute, smiling as he took your hand and laced his fingers in yours.

“No it was not,” he replied, kissing you sweetly. You stood together again in silence, oh that beautiful silence, before Will spoke again. “You’d make a good mom.”

You blinked at his comment, and took in the uncertainty on his face as he waited for you to response. Kissing him again you told him: “well, you’d make a good dad.”

A smile spread across his face as he ran his thumb over your hand. “Are we really talking about having kids?” He laughed quietly.

“Yeah I think we are,” you realised, “and I guess it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if we had them together one day.” He brushed the hair out of your face and looked into your eyes.

“One day,” he promised.

#will halstead #chicago med #one chicago #will halstead imagine #chicago med imagine #will halstead imagines #chicago med imagines #will halstead one shot #chicago med one shot #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #one chicago one shot #one shot

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oboevallis · 3 years

Text

rocking chair pt 2

"Where are you heading?" Link asked as he watched his girlfriend get dressed. It was her day off and recently all she wanted to do was stay home and sleep, as she was nervously anticipating their sons arrival.

"A meeting." She responded, running a brush through her unkempt hair.

"Not that there's anything wrong with it, but you've been going to a lot of meetings recently. Is everything okay?" He asked sitting up on his elbows in their bed.

"Yeah, I mean I'm nervous for the baby and all. This whole time I was thinking if I can just make a healthy baby it'd all be fine, but that's not where it ends, you know?" Link nodded his head in agreement, the whole length of her pregnancy so far he'd been a nervous wreck, which was very uncharacteristic of him. "And my friend Louise, it's her first time going to meetings in a while and she lost her sponsor, so now I'm her sponsor I guess."

"That's good." Link smiled, admiring his girlfriend. "Be careful though, I don't want you overexerting yourself. We don't want our little guy coming too soon."

"I'm not going to overexert myself." She sighed, her boyfriend was very protective of her since they found out about her pregnancy. It was comforting for Amelia since she didn't have that the last time, but it was also stressful having him breathing down her neck every other minute. "I'll be home after dinner." She smiled as she went back to kiss him before she left.

________________________________________

"I promised." Link sighed throwing down his screwdriver to his side.

"I doubt she'll even notice if it's an IKEA chair." Meredith rolled her eyes as she sat on the picnic bench in her backyard. Link had asked if he could use her yard, so he could surprise her with it, and she wouldn't see him struggling.

"I promised I'd build her a rocking chair, I want to do this."

"You may want to, but can you actually do it?"

"I can." The man huffed as he looked back on the blueprints he drew up. "If I can put bones back in place for a living I can definitely build a rocking chair."

"Whatever you say." Meredith smirked as she took a sip of lemonade.

"Are you just gonna sit there or are you gonna help me?" Meredith seemed to consider this and assured him she was going to be no help and walked back inside. He then picked up his phone and clicked on the contact he was looking for.

_______________________________________

"Three donuts already." Louise sarcastically said as she walked up to the snack table after the meeting.

"And what is that your third coffee?" Amelia playfully bit back, as she wiped her face of the donut powder.

"Want to head down to the coffee shop down on the corner?"

"Oh so I can watch you drink coffee and I'm stuck with hot chocolate."

"Precisely." Louise smiled, the pair then walked down the street in the light rain. Once the two were sat down at the booth in the coffee shop and had ordered them had started up with conversation again. "So how are you feeling?"

"Hey, I'm your sponsor. I'm supposed to be asking those questions."

"You were pestering me that whole meeting, I should get a chance to check in on you. Is Atticus still bugging you?"

"He's just so restless." Amelia ran her finger over the rim of her mug. "I just want to sleep and all he wants to do is prepare."

"Roles seem reversed." Louise smirked, bringing the mug to her lips. "He's nesting and you're hibernating."

"I guess. I'm just nervous."

"Have you voiced your concerns to him?"

"I mean, he's really understanding. He accepts my grief revolving around my first son, but he just doesn't get I just need to be left alone. He's just breathing down my back alllllllways."

"Last time, you were all alone. This is different now, your baby's father is with you." Since the two had started to talk, they immediately clicked and felt comfortable in confiding in one another. "It's normal to feel like that. Have you asked him to back off."

"No I haven't." Amelia sighed playing with a hangnail on her hand. "I want this relationship to be different. I don't want lying to protect the other people, and I don't want resent him eventually. He's just sooooo happy, and all he wants to do is take care of me. I just want to be left alone and to do things for myself."

"You know what you need to do. You just said it, you've got to be honest."

"Why do you always have to be right?" The neurosurgeon groaned, before starting to ask the latter questions in how she was doing.

________________________________________

"And your an orthosurgeon really?" Winston asked as he sawed a piece of wood. "And you can't construct a simple rocking chair?"

"Okay, okay, I get it I’m a failure is it out of your system yet?"

"Yeah just about."

"How did you learn how to do this?" Link asked as Winston helped him hold the pieces of wood steady as he hammered.

"My grandfather. He loved to build, he was the only relative disappointed when I turned out to be a surgeon and not a carpenter." The younger man chuckled.

"He must've been devastated." Link sarcastically remarked, the more time he spent around his girlfriend the more sarcastic he became.

"What made you think you could build a rocking chair?"

"Not really sure. Amelia said she wanted me to build one, I think she knows I can't really do it. I've been doing little DIY projects and now she likes to tease me so at first I thought this was a joke, but then realized she was serious."

"I think it's really amazing y'all are making it work, you guys seem to really love each other." Winston smiled, he had just reconnected with Maggie and couldn't believe how fast he was falling for her. He wanted to see if what he was feeling by was possible, he saw these two fall in love so quickly but didn't know if it was out of obligation.

"I know what it seems like, I'm staying out of obligation but it's not like that. I love her, she's the only person I've truly truly loved." Link smiled uncontrollably, he couldn't believe he was this guy, the hopeless romantic and the soon to be father.

"I didn't mean it like that. It's comforting to see, because I'm falling for Maggie so quickly it doesn't even seem real. So if it happened with you and Amelia, I don't know gives me hope."

"I honestly never really believed in love when I met Amelia. From what I've experienced so far, love just kinda happens, there's no timeline it's just, what ever happens, happens you know?"

"Whatever happens, happens." Winston repeated, smiling at the thought, it was oddly comforting.

_______________________________________

"Looks great. You did a good job." Winston congratulated as the two admired the chair in Meredith's backyard. They had been working on it for a little over a week and had finally finished. "Ready to bring it over?"

"Yep!" Link smiled proudly. The two loaded the rocking chair into Winstons car, hence it being bigger, and secured it and made their way to Links apartment. The two brought the chair into the apartment surprised to see the lights turned off. "Amelia?"

"Did she say she was home?" Winston asked as they set the chair down into the nursery.

"Yeah, she did." Link walked out into the hallway, and check the bathroom and bedroom. Link then went to the front door, after hearing a knock. He quickly opened it expecting his girlfriend. "Oh, Louise. Hi."

"Amelia called me earlier and asked me to come over."

"Did she say why?" Links nerves staring to rise.

"No, just asked if I'd come over."

"Huh." Link moved to the side to let her in. "I just got home and she isn't here. What did she sound like on the phone?"

"I mean she seemed a little shaken up, but I wasn't concerned."

"Huh." Link sighed as he walked over to the kitchen table and picked up his phone to call his girlfriend, and was surprised when Maggie barged in.

"Maggie?" Winston was surprised to see his girlfriend run through the door.

"Where's the fire?" Link asked feeling his anxiety start to bubble.

"Oh umm, to see the cat." It was obvious Maggie was lying, and Link assured her that was a bad idea before she even spoke. "Amelias at the hospital, she's having contractions. And wanted me to grab the hospital bag."

"Amelia's having contractions? It's too early." Link had begun to panic, he ran back into the nursery and grabbed the bag. "Why didn't she call me?" Maggie stopped him before he exited the door.

"I don't know, it's early they've got her on terbutaline to try and stop contractions."

"How couldn't she call me?" Link asked hurt, and jumped when an arm met his shoulder.

"She's just scared. She's not trying to shut you out, you know that." Louise comforted, and Link nodded assuring he understood. Amelia confided in him the other night about how this pregnancy scared her and wasn't used to someone being there for her. "When you go to the hospital don't freak out."

______________________________________

Amelia wiped the gel off of her stomach. Carina had just done a final scan before letting her go home. They were able to stop her contractions and now she was on modified bed rest. The door than abruptly opened, and Amelia felt her heart drop. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell Link but she was panicked when the contractions started and didn't know what to do.

"Link. I'm so so so sorry. You see I thought they were just Braxton Hicks so I called Louise, and then I was like oops these aren't Braxton Hicks. So then I went to the hospital and Maggie saw me and then she offered to get by bag, but my contractions have stopped and I'm not gonna over exert myself and it's all gonna be okay." Amelia quickly ranted, but was immediately comforted when her boyfriend engulfed her in a hug. “I'm sorry I didn't call you."

"Don't apologize." Link whispered as she rubbed her back. "Don't be sorry. You were scared, this is new for you. But I'm here, we're in this together."

"God, I love you. Anyone else would've been so pissed."

"Well I'm not anyone else." Link smirked.

#baby amelink #atticus lincoln #amelink #amelia shepherd #greysanatomy #greys fanfic #greys anatomy fanfic #winston ndugu #maggie pierce

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platonicteenwolf · 4 years

Text

Wolf Moon (S1E1) Part II

Teen Wolf x Reader Series Rewrite

A/N: Let me know if any of the links are wacky or if I mess up on any of the pronouns cause posting three versions is sometimes a bit confusing so I can fix it if needed. Also lmk if there’s a misspelling or grammar issue too :)

They/Them Pronouns Version

He/Him Pronouns Version

Next Part / Masterlist

Warnings: dead body, swearing

Lacrosse stick strapped to his backpack, Scott pedals into the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School among the swarm of students. Skateboarders jump steps, potheads take barely concealed tokes, girls and guys hold hands, guys and guys hold hands, (yes it’s California.)

As Scott pulls his bike to one of the racks to lock it up, a pristine BMW with a license plate that reads: JCKSN37, blazes into the lot and stops in the space next to the racks. Scott, still kneeling, gets bumped in the back when the driver’s side door opens.

Jackson Whittemore, exceptionally good-looking and usually oblivious to anyone not within his social or financial circle, steps out to notice that Scott hit his car by being near it.

“Dude. Watch the paint job.”

He’s completely unaware of hitting Scott as he grabs his own lacrosse equipment.

“Yo Jackson!”

Hearing his favorite word, Jackson looks up and heads over to meet his friends. All good looking jocks with big smiles and expensive cars, pretty girls coming up to say hello.

—————

A school bell rings outside a brick building swarming with students.

“Alright let’s see this thing,” Stiles says, a little too eagerly. Now standing in front of the school, Scott takes off his backpack and pulls his shirt up a few inches to show Stiles and I the bandage on his lower back.

“Oh damn that looks bad!” I reach out to touch it and Scott flinches back. “Oops, sorry”

“It was too dark to see much but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf.”

Scoffing, Stiles countered “A wolf bit you? No, not a chance.”

“I heard a wolf howling.”

”No, you didn’t.”

“What do you mean ‘No, I didn’t?’ How do you know what I heard?”

Jumping in, I explained, “California doesn’t have wolves. Not for the last sixty years. The animals were almost hunted to extinction in the 1920s California Gold Rush.” Both boys looked at me in surprise. “What,” I questioned, “I like history.”

Seemingly accepting that answer Scott continued on. “Well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf, then you’re definitely not going to believe me when I tell you I saw the body.”

“Holy shit!” This was amazing!

“You what? Are you kidding me!?” He almost looked like a kid who just found the hidden candy cabinet.

“I wish. I’m going to have nightmares about it for a month.”

There was still one thing I’ve been wondering about though, “Which half of the body was it?”

“Oh- it was the top half. I saw her dead eyes staring back at me. It was scary.” Scott shuddered, thinking about her lifeless body laying in the forrest.

“Well I think that’s freaking awesome,” Stiles concluded. “This is seriously the best thing that’s happened to this town since...”

Stiles suddenly got very distracted by something behind Scott. I turned around to see what it is and you’ll never guess.

“...since the birth of Lydia Martin who’s walking toward us right now.”

A drop-dead gorgeous junior named Lydia Martin was walking towards the school doors like it was a fashion show runway in Milan. Stiles has had the biggest crush on Lydia ever since we were kids.

“Hey Lydia, how are you? You look--” She walks right past him not even giving him a second glance. “...like you’re going to ignore me.”

Scott chuckled at his failed attempt in flirting with the girl as I pat him on his shoulder.

“You’ll get her next time champ.” Stiles shot me an unappreciative glare as I held my hands up in defense and he started grumbling about how unfair everything was.

“You guys are the cause of this, you know. Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been Scarlet-nerded by you.”

As we reach the steps of the school I get ready to part with the dynamic duo to get to my class. “Alright boys, I’ve got first with Harris so I’ll see y’all later.” Mentions of good luck were lost behind me as I entered the thick crowd ready to start the day.

—————

First period English. Scott takes the desk next to Stiles as the teacher, Mr. Curtis starts writing instructions on the chalkboard.

“As you all know by now, there was indeed a body found in the woods last night. I’m sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened but I’ve been told that the police have a suspect in custody.”

Scott looks to Stiles who shrugs, news to him as well.

“Which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus on your desk outlining the semester. Read it now. And by read I don’t mean skim.”

As the students begin reading a cell phone starts ringing out of nowhere. Scott glances up and looks around. The other students quietly read the syllabus, seemingly not hearing the noise. Gazing about, he can’t seem to find the source until his eyes fall on the windows of the classroom...

Outside - across the quad, Scott sees a girl sitting on a bench who he will come to know as Allison Argent. Sixteen and radiating with an innocent beauty. When she puts the cell phone to her ear, it becomes obvious that, despite the closed windows and the distance, this is the ringing Scott is somehow able to hear.

More astonishingly, Scott can hear both Allison and her caller.

“Mom, three calls on my first day is a little overdoing it,” Allison teased.

“Just making sure you’re there okay and you’ve got everything you need.” But Allison digs through her bag, becoming alarmed.

“Everything except a pen. Oh my God, I didn’t actually forget a pen.”

“Don’t panic. I’m sure you can borrow one from another student.”

“Okay, okay, I gotta’ go. Love ya.”

Unable to take his eyes off the extraordinary girl, Scott watches the school’s principal join her on the steps.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” The Principal guides her across the quad, their conversation becoming clearer to Scott with every step.

“So you were saying San Francisco isn’t where you grew up?”

“No, but we stayed for more than a year which is unusual in my family.”

Even when Allison and the Principal disappear from view, Scott hears the clatter of the building door opening, the clicking of their heels on the tile floor of the hall.

“Well, hopefully, Beacon Hills is your last stop for a while.” The door to the classroom opened, causing the rest of the class to look up.

The principle turns to address the room. “Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome.”

Scott barely breathes as Allison heads for the one empty desk left in the room. Right behind him. She puts her notebook down, then glances up to see Scott turned toward her. Holding out a pen. With a relieved but curious smile, she takes it from him.

“Thanks.”

Scott gives her a nod, turning around with a proud expression. Looking up at the front of the room, Mr. Curtis stands up to start the lesson.

“We’ll begin with Kafka’s metamorphosis on page 133...”

—————

The school bell rings throughout the halls indicating its time to move to your next class. As I walked out of my classroom I spotted Stiles coming out of his. Jogging towards him to catch up, I shout his name to grab his attention. Whipping his head around he greets me with the classic, dopey, Stilinski smile. “Hey bub, what’s up?” I ask.

Rolling his eyes at the nickname, he grumbles all about how boring his English class was. “...oh! And there’s a new girl at school today!”

Interesting, I thought. Spotting Scott in the distance we both quicken our pace to meet with him at his locker.

—————

As he grabs his lock to open the door, Scott hears Allison just down the corridor. Looking towards where she stands they connect eyes. She starts to smile, recognizing the cute guy who gave her the pen. But then Lydia Martin swoops in front of her.

“That jacket is absolutely killer. Where did you get it?”

“My Mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco,” Allison explains.

Suddenly Jackson, Lydia’s boyfriend, walks up to the pair and puts his arm around Lydia and she greets him with a kiss.

Turning back towards his locker, Scott spotted Y/N and Stiles walking up to him.

—————

Looking at the Alpha Male and his arm candy across the hall, I turn towards the boys with a confused look on my face.

“Can someone tell me how the new girl is here all of five minutes and she’s already hanging with Lydia’s clique?”

“Because she’s hot. Beautiful people herd together,” Stiles answers. He’s got a point. He steps up to open his own locker next to Scott’s.

“Is that why Lydia isn’t herding with you?”

“Lydia’s a long term project, okay? And trust me, I’ve got all the patience in the world for a high yield investment like her.”

You’ve got to give him credit. He’s committed.

—————

Head cocked slightly, Scott tunes into the conversation from the other end of the corridor, voices coming into focus.

“So,” Lydia exclaims, “this weekend there’s a party.”

“A party?”

Jackson leaned on the lockers next to him, arm now wrapped around Lydias torso. “Yeah, Friday night. You should come.”

“I can’t. It’s Family Night this Friday. But thanks for asking.”

“You sure? Everyone’s going after the scrimmage”

“You mean like football?”

“Football is a joke at Beacon. The sport here is Lacrosse. We won the state championship the last three years--“

Cutting in Lydia praises, “Because of a certain team captain.”

“We have practice in a few minutes,” Jackson explains. “You don’t have to be anywhere, do you?”

“Well, no, I was just going--“

Lydia claps her hands in excitement, “Perfect! You’re coming.”

—————

A whistle blowing echoes across the field. The Lacrosse Team’s Coach gathers the team on the field, Stiles and Scott lagging behind.

“But if you play I’ll have no one to talk to on the bench! You really gonna’ do that to your best friend?”

“Hey! No fair.” I look toward Stiles pouting when he gives me an obnoxious look.

“You don’t count.” I shoved him sticking my tongue out and watched as Stiles accidentally collided with Scott.

“Oops sorry Scott,” I apologize.

With an amused smile after watching our banter Scott continued his argument. “I can’t sit out again. My whole life is sitting on the sidelines. This season, I make first line.” He heads for the field, pausing to see Lydia climbing the bleachers. And stepping right behind her... Allison.

I look towards the boy and follow his gaze behind me where I see the girls sitting. “Hey,” I nudged Stiles who was busy putting all his gear down around him in a destructive manner. “I think Scott’s got a crush on the new girl.”

“What? What makes you say that?”

“Look!” I point towards where Scott stands, still starring dreamily at Allison, but he’s suddenly interrupted when a lacrosse stick hits him in the chest.

“McCall! You’re in the goal.”

Scott turns to Coach Bobby Finstock, a man with little comprehension of the difficulties of teenage life. He tosses Scott the bundle of goalie equipment.

“But I’ve never played goal.”

“I know. Scoring some shots will give the boys a confidence boost. It’s a first day back thing. Get them energized, fired up!”

“What about me?”

“Try not to take any in the face.”

This is not gonna end well, I think to myself.

—————

Stepping into the net, Scott glances to the bleachers where Allison watches with Lydia, eyes focusing on them.

“Who is that,” Allison questions.

Him? I’m not sure who he is. Why?”

“He’s in my English class.”

Scott looks up, shocked to hear Allison asking about him. But with his hearing momentarily turned up, he flinches at the whistle blow, sound ringing through his skull.

One of the bigger players charges forward as the Assistant Coach passes the ball to him. Catching it, he whips his stick forward, hurling the ball toward the goal.

Still reeling from the whistle, Scott looks up too late to see the ball soaring toward him. It bounces right off his helmet and into the net. The team laughs wickedly. Even Coach snickers.

Cheeks burning under his mask, Scott readies himself for the next player. When the whistle blows again, he’s ready. The Assistant Coach passes the ball to the next player who catches it and fires it right at the goal.

Scott moves startlingly fast, almost an instantaneous reaction. Then he notices the player staring at him with a mixture of disappointment and surprise. Scott has the ball.

“Yeah!” Stiles shouts from the sideline, impressed with his friends newfound luck. “See I told you he was practicing,” I brag to Stiles.

When the next player takes the shot, Scott catches the ball again. And then again. And again. Nothing can get past him.

In the bleachers, Allison and Lydia sit forward.

“He seems like he’s pretty good,” Allison continues to stare at Scott practicing on the field

“Very good.” Intrigued, Lydia keeps her gaze locked on Scott who now stands with a far more confident posture. Until he sees that Jackson is next in line. Glaring at Scott, he practically strangles the lacrosse stick with his gloves.

“Oh God...” Scott croaks with fear.

The Assistant Coach tosses the ball up. Jackson launches forward, catching the ball and spinning around to fire it at the goal. But Scott moves with supernatural precision. The ball lands right in the pocket of the goalie stick.

Stiles and I let out hollers of excitement, jumping up from the bench. In the bleachers, Lydia stands and cheers as well causing Jackson to throw a look at her. She returns his glare with a sly smile, a warning to step up his game.

Grinning, Scott gives the goalie stick a whirl, spinning it with a flick of his wrist and sending the ball soaring right into the pocket of the stunned Assistant Coach’s stick.

—————

In the woods, Scott retraces his steps from last night with Stiles and I following behind him.

“I don’t know what it was. It was like, I had all the time in the world to catch the ball.”

Walking towards a bank we came to a river we had to cross. I hope Scott knows where he’s going. After seeing nowhere to cross we trudged through the river soaking our feet in the water. If my shoes smell after this I’m gonna kill him.

Reaching the other side, Scott continued with his worries. “And that’s not the only weird thing. I mean I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. And I can smell things.”

“Smell things? Like what,” Stiles questions.

“Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket.”

“I don’t have any...” Stiles pulls out a lint-covered piece of wrapped gum.

Looking up at Scott in shock, he just shrugged, continuing his walk into the woods. Double checking, I ask him, “so all this started with the bite?”

“What if it’s an infection? What if my body is flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?”

“I’ve actually heard of this,” Stiles starts, “It’s a specific kind of infection.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I think it’s called... Lycanthropy.”

“Oh my god.” I roll my eyes at his accusation. He can’t be serious.

“No I’m serious! This is important!”

“What’s that? Is it bad? It sounds bad.”

“It is. But only once a month.”

“Once a month?”

“On the night of a full moon. Awroooo”

Scott looks at him. And then it clicks. Giving him a push, we continued walking.

“Stiles you’re such a dumbass sometimes,” I chide.

“Hey, he’s the one who heard a wolf howling.”

“There could be something seriously wrong with me!” Scott looks back at Stiles with a look of fear.

“I know! You’re a werewolf! Grrr!” He slashes his hands through the air in a claw motion and I take this opportunity to stick my leg out in front of him and watch as he trips.

As Stiles falls to the forrest floor Scott and I laugh at his stupidity. “Okay, obviously, I’m kidding. But if you see me in shop class melting down all the silver I can find it’s because Friday’s a full moon.”

We seemed to reach the destination because Scott started to look around the area.

“I swear this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running, I dropped my inhaler...”

“Maybe the killer moved the body.”

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like eighty bucks.”

As the boys thought of different theories I looked towards the woods and saw someone walking towards us. Is that.. Derek Hale?

“Hello,” I greet, waving to the man.

Stiles looks up at me and then to the man and taps Scott on the arm, pulling him to his feet. Derek Hale. Nineteen and unquestionably handsome, he has a rougher look than the cleanly shaven Beacon Hills boys.

“What are you doing here?”

Both Scott and Stiles are too stunned to speak at first “This is private property.”

“Sorry, we didn’t know,” Stiles assures.

Derek stares at Scott, barely noticing Stiles or I.

Scott opens his mouth to speak to the man but then closes it, at a loss for words.

I take this as an opportunity explain. “We were just looking for something but we’ll leave. Sorry to bother you.”

As we’re turning to go, Derek tosses an object to Scott. His inhaler. When he looks up, Derek is already walking away.

Now finding his voice, Scott mutters, “Aight, come on. I’ve gotta get to work.”

“Dude, that was Derek Hale, “Stiles exclaims. “You remember, right? He’s only a few years older than us.”

“Remember what?”

“His family. They all burned to death in a fire like ten years ago.”

We used to have a class together in school. “I remember the cops pulling him out of class to tell him,” I tell the boys. “I wonder what he’s doing back.”

Scott eyes the inhaler in his hand, closing his fist over it. “Come on,” he says again.

—————

Tag List: @linkpk88

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beca-mitchell · 4 years

Text

wish i could pretend i didn’t need you (3/?)

Summary: Two weeks later. Beca has to work with an old acquaintance while her relationship with Chloe has flourished all the while

Word Count: 4,081

A/N: Chapter title from Gavin Haley and Ella Vos’ “The Way I Am”. Unbeta’d, sorry (except for Chloe yelling at me this morning when she woke up and read the chapter)! Smut warning for this chapter!

* * * * *

Excerpt:

She hates this game, however. Whenever her father’s associates pretend to not know who she is, or at least, feign politeness upon greeting her as if it is the first time they are meeting. The fact of the matter is, their business circles already aren’t necessarily the largest. It isn’t like she doesn’t know who wants to talk to her.

“Good morning,” she greets politely, though she does not put her spoon down. Instead, she idly stirs her oatmeal, finding it infinitely more interesting than the man next to her. “On your way out?” she asks quickly. Pointedly.

“Yes, but it’s always a pleasure to see you. We really should talk about grabbing a bite.”

She had spared him a brief glance and once-over a few seconds ago, but she does not linger. In her mind, she categorizes everything she knows about him at first glance. Son of a wealthy contract with a lot of influence in L.A. and the surrounding area. Young—probably around her age. Mid-twenties. She supposes he isn’t bad to look at. He just has the same hungry look in his eye, as do most young men whenever they’ve seemingly been promised an opportunity to talk to her.

She sighs, knowing that she’s going to have to annoy her father once more.

Read below (AO3 link under the cut)

AO3 - chapter 3: wish i could take your hand

“Are you sure you don’t want something else?”

Beca peers up at the staff waiting on her. It makes her feel simultaneously small and grandiose all at once. It was never something she got used to, even if she grew up in this very house, surrounded by many of the same people. She’s sure her family would like her to consider them her friends, but she often feels more like a stranger than anything else.

“Miss Mitchell?”

“I’m—uh, no. It’s okay. I’m good with this.” She gestures at the measly oatmeal she has placed in front of her.

She catches the brief panic that flashes across his face, looking very much like he wants to insist on feeding her something more substantial.

“Um, but where is my dad? I was told he wanted to have breakfast together,” she grumbles. “After dragging me out of bed too.” She glances at him to see if she has managed to elicit a smile. Half a smile. A quarter.

Nothing. “Mr. Mitchell is in a meeting right now, but he will be with you shortly.”

Beca resists the impulse to roll her eyes and turns back to her food, uncaring that she has her jacket draped sloppily over the dining chair armrest or that her shirt is mildly rumpled, having just been picked from her dresser carelessly. Another thing she hates—being treated like another one of her father’s business associates. It’s often hard to believe they’re from the same bloodline at all. It’s hard to believe that he considers her his daughter at all.

“Did you need something?”

Beca pinches the bridge of her nose, annoyed. “No. Thanks.”

“I’ll...be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

Beca watches him go with a sigh. Her brooding is interrupted by a short buzz from her phone, resting on the table.

Chloe Beale Dinner tonight? Missed you last night <3

That puts her in better spirits. She immediately picks up her phone, spoon hanging loosely from her mouth, dumb smile on her face.

Beca Mitchell Yesss please. Missed you too. Sick of me yet??

Chloe Beale Never

It is absolutely incredible how a simple text exchange manages to lift her spirits. She clicks her phone off, putting it on the table and returning to her breakfast.

“Beca Mitchell?”

She glances up. Beca flashes a tight smile at the young man now interrupting her breakfast. She chooses to spend as little time in her father’s house as possible, but he had arranged for a car to pick her up from her apartment that morning, which had been rather fortunate, considering that she had actually spent the night at her apartment for the first time in a few weeks.

“Yes, but it’s always a pleasure to see you. We really should talk about grabbing a bite.”

She sighs, knowing that she’s going to have to annoy her father once more.

She hates this part the most. She hates being regarded as a piece of meat of some kind. People who didn’t know her, walking up to her and starting conversations. People like her who barely understood what it meant to live a life of struggle. A life outside of privilege. And on top of that, she already knows what he wants. He wants two things: first, probably to get into her pants, which. Gross. Second, he wants to talk up his company—his father’s company—until she wants to slice her own ears off. She knows the formula. She knows the formula too well at this point. In the same way that her father is set in his ways, she figures that some things never change.

“I’ll have my people call your people,” Beca replies, quickly putting a spoon of oatmeal into her mouth so she can resist the peal of laughter that threatens to burst from her at the sight of his despondent expression. “Nice seeing you, Darren.”

“It’s Derek.”

She smirks, tapping her spoon against the table. “Oops.” He leaves in a huff. Beca, pleased by this reaction, contentedly rises from her seat and twists, bowl in hand only to see—“Jesse?”

Jesse Swanson, in all his smug glory and leaning against the arch opening into the living room, is quite possibly the last person Beca wants to see at the moment, but she draws comfort from the fact that he is, at least somebody she can moderately trust. Which is a lot more than she can say for ninety-nine percent of the people her father brings into his home.

“Happy to see me, Beca?”

“Not particularly, no. You only roll into town whenever there’s a huge shipment coming in.”

“Look at us,” Jesse drawls, moving closer. “Back together again. And you haven’t changed. What’s it been? Two years? Three?”

“Three since I rejected you at university, I believe,” Beca says, tapping her chin slowly. “Time passes when you’re having fun.”

“He was into you,” Jesse comments. “Totally into you. It was like watching a trainwreck, watching him flirt with you.”

Beca scoffs. “Was that what that was? Was I supposed to be impressed with that?” She sighs, finally close enough to slug Jesse in the shoulder. “How have you been? How’s the girlfriend?”

“Beca,” he pouts. “You know my heart only beats for you.”

Beca grimaces, shoving him out of the way as she goes. That, she hates. She hates that Jesse, for whatever reason, still holds some kind of torch for her. It had started as an early attempt at an arranged...something...between their families. Jesse’s family, one of the biggest shareholders at Los Angeles Port had been highly interested (read: invested) in a potential romance between their only son and the only daughter and heir to the Mitchell fortune.

It was a match made in hypothetical heaven.

It was just that...Beca couldn’t bring herself to muster feelings for Jesse. He was too much, too forceful about their relationship, and too into her at the time. It was all more than she could handle when she had already been coerced into getting a degree.

On top of that, it left a bad taste in her mouth knowing that it would have been yet another thing tying her to this shitshow of a lifestyle.

And, though she would never really admit it to her family, it was the fact that Jesse was...Jesse. They had grown up together. They had trained in martial arts together. They had overseen incredibly illegal trades together.

She just couldn’t take him seriously as a romantic prospect, despite never having had experience dating many people to begin with.

So...yes. It bothers her that her father is still trying to force this upon her, even years later. She knows it’s his way of attempting to seal their relationship in the same way he always does—like a puppetmaster behind the scenes.

The thought enrages her enough that she shoves through her father’s study doors. “No,” she announces boldly, ignoring Jesse’s stammering behind her.

“Beca, good morning to you too. I’ll overlook your disregard for rules and inability to knock when requested.”

“Dude,” Jesse hisses to her. “Mr. Mitchell,” he announces. “You wanted to see me? Um.” He shifts closer to Beca, whether for protection or something else, she doesn’t want to find out and steps away. “Us,” he corrects.

“Yes, thank you, Jesse. And please, what’s with this Mr. Mitchell nonsense.” To Beca’s immense surprise, her father stands and moves from behind his incredibly unnecessary and large antique desk. He moves to pat Jesse jovially on the shoulder. “You’re practically family.”

Beca clenches her jaw, watching the exchange. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until her father stops in front of her. He cups her cheek, smiling at her with something akin to tenderness. Or perhaps an impression of it, as if he had seen it once in a movie. “Always nice to see you, my dear,” he says. “You never really stop by much anymore unless it’s to get irritated about something entirely out of our control.”

I want to be out of your control.

The thought passes by so fleetingly that she almost doesn’t catch it, but she does. She catches it and holds on to it, letting herself drift along with it for a few short moments as her father returns to his perch behind the ornate desk.

Beca hates that desk.

“I need you two to supervise a shipment coming in tonight. Jesse, your parents will have the exact drop-off point at the port.”

Beca hates stake-outs more than that desk. She holds her tongue, merely nodding as her father gives directions. “It might take all night.”

At that, her head lifts. “All night?” she questions.

“Yes.” He places his hands on the table. “Is that a problem, Beca?”

She senses that Jesse shifts next to her. The air seems to grow still around them as her father awaits her response.

“No,” she murmurs, finally, thinking only of Chloe and the text she’ll have to send. “Not a problem.”

“Good. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

She hates that he looks directly at her.

* * * * *

“Rebecca! Get in here!”

Beca startles, nearly dropping her walkman on the ground as her father’s booming voice echoes from his study, down the ominous hallway she hates walking through.

He had full-named her. She can’t imagine what horror awaits her. Desperately, she tries to wrack her brain for something she might have done or not done.

She rushes, wincing as she bumps into a chair along the way. The pain burns through her and she pauses, momentarily stricken by how hard the chair had resisted against her movement.

“BECA!”

“Coming!” she calls back, wincing at the tremor in her own voice.

She knocks quietly on the study door, noting that it stands slightly open.

“Enter.”

Beca enters, still clutching her walkman as something comforting to hold on to at this point. “You wanted to see me?” she asks.

“You want to explain this?” He points at a paper on his desk, not even bothering to look up at her. For that, she’s grateful, unable to explain why she fears her father so much...especially whenever he looks her in the eyes.

She approaches the desk, unable to see what it is exactly. When she is close enough, she sees her school emblem atop the paper and her eyes widen, knowing it must be her report card for the semester.

“What is it?” she asks. “What do you want me to—”

“Don’t be smart with me now, Beca. Look at this. A B? Another B? A B-?”

“It—it…” She wants to explain that it had been hard, switching schools again in the middle of the semester. It had been hard to make friends, but she was trying. She was trying to fit in and she genuinely did like school. She liked the people she had managed to become friends with. She liked her teachers. She loved music class.

“Are you stupid?”

Beca’s face grows hot. She feels like she might cry. “No,” she murmurs.

“No, you are not. Because you are a Mitchell. And we don’t fail.”

“I—”

His eyes zero in on her walkman, still pressed against her chest. “Give me that.”

She whimpers. “Please, daddy—”

He stands, chair pushing back roughly. She wills herself to stand still at the sound. His previous instructions echo around her mind erratically. Stand still. Back straight. Shoulders back.

Stand like you mean it.

He snatches the walkman from her. “This is a horrible distraction. You need real education.”

She barely has time to protest, words dying on her throat, when her father drops the walkman on the floor and crushes it under the heel of his foot.

“Do you see this?” he demands over her sudden, erratic sobs. “This is what happens to failure in this house. We don’t accept it. This is what we do to people who put our futures in jeopardy.”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Beca cries, hands coming up to her face. She feels such shame for crying in front of her father, knowing that he must think so lowly of her.

“Apologies won’t bring that back,” he says, pointing at her walkman. “Apologies won’t fix your grades.”

“What—” her mother bursts into the room, taking in the scene before her: Beca, shoulders hunched as she cries, smashed walkman on the ground, CD and all. “What’s going on in here?”

“Some lessons need to be taught. Did you see the grades from that school you wanted to put her in?”

“She’s seven!” her mother cries, pulling Beca tight against her. Beca continues to cry, pressing her face against her mother’s shoulder. Her mother’s hand presses tight against the back of her head, a comforting grip. “She’s seven, she’s trying!”

“Public school was a mistake. This was your idea, Sofia. Don’t think I've forgotten.”

“And you agreed. She needs the socialization, Enzo. She needs to meet people her age and grow.”

“She can get that just fine here. With private tutors. She needs to be homeschooled so she can—”

“No. I don’t want to talk about this right now. Look at her. You made our baby cry.”

Beca doesn’t hear her father’s response, too distracted by the warmth of her mother’s hold and the beating of her heart beneath her ear.

* * * * *

Beca checks her phone for the millionth time. She sees nothing out of the ordinary in Chloe’s goodnight text. They had agreed to postpone their dinner date to brunch the next day, but God, the disappointment Beca feels is unparalleled. She had been looking forward to curling up in Chloe’s arms, drifting off to sleep in Chloe’s bed. She had been looking forward to Chloe’s attempt at cooking dinner. She had been looking forward to it all.

“You seem agitated tonight.” Jesse watches her carefully. “Hot date that you’re missing out on tonight?”

“Why would you automatically assume that the only reason I wouldn’t want to spend time with you is that I have other plans?”

“Oh you wound me as always, Beca.”

“Just. Focus, okay? Let’s just get this done.” She wraps her jacket around herself tighter, wondering why, of all nights, Los Angeles decided to be abnormally chilly. The chill seems to seep into her bones.

“You’re not that into this, huh?”

“What are you talking about?”

“This whole...thing. Being here.”

“Jesse, it’s not about you.”

“I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about this life. This charmed life we live. Waiting for a shipment of questionable materials and making sure nobody steals from us because God forbid that we become less rich. That whole life. But it’s just...this is pretty much it for us, you know? Mess up once and that’s the end of the line.”

Beca is silent, contemplating the breadth of Jesse’s words. She’s sure he isn’t necessarily baiting her into saying anything, but she is still wary of responding too affirmatively, lest he take that information and use it to his own advantage.

But it’s Jesse—he has been fairly mellow over the period of time that they have known each other. He has been somewhat kind, somewhat understanding. He seemed fairly hands-off in terms of his own parents’ business, similar to Beca’s own disdain for this lifestyle.

“So...that’s why…” Jesse sighs. “Who is it? Do I know him?”

Beca blinks, refocusing on the horizon. The water looks especially daunting at this time of day. Rippling calm. Moon glinting off the surface. Blackness. Darkness.

This is pretty much it for us, you know?

“It’s nobody,” she finally responds. “It’s nothing.”

* * * * *

She ends up leaving the stake-out early, under Jesse’s reassurance that he would handle it.

Beca doesn’t mean to arrive at Chloe’s apartment, but her feet moved her automatically. She checks the time, noting that it isn’t too ridiculously late for a Friday night. A small smile graces her lips at the memory of how she had met Chloe on a random Friday night. Now, three and a half weeks later, and she’s dating this woman, murky future in sight, but a future nonetheless.

She reaches up to knock, but hesitates.

It’s too soon for you to be showing up this late. Too soon—she doesn’t want to see you.

Her own thoughts knock the wind out of her; she knows that this level of self-doubt is unwarranted considering that she and Chloe have been moving fairly steadily along over the past month. A month and Beca’s feelings have only developed further, growing along the way.

She bites her lip, hesitating. She has no reason to believe that Chloe doesn’t feel the same way. Chloe, who is incredibly open and genuine. She wears her emotions for all to see.

Now, her father’s voice, chiming in: the lack of self-preservation. Remember that emotion is a weapon and a curse. Depends on how you use it.

But, Beca thinks. Is it so bad to be wanted?

Beca Mitchell Hey Are you awake?

The briefest moment of radio silence, but it’s enough to send Beca’s fingers back to the keyboard as she makes her way back down the apartment hallway. She is about to type out nevermind when Chloe texts her back.

Chloe Beale yeah, what’s up?

Beca Mitchell would you mind opening your door?

Chloe Beale :O :O :O beca mitchell! yes! coming!

Beca barely has time to suck in a relieved breath when Chloe’s apartment door flies open and Chloe herself is leaping onto Beca’s back with a delighted squeal.

“You made it!”

“You’re not mad I came so late?” Beca asks, lifting her hand and curling it around Chloe’s forearm. Chloe’s hug tightens momentarily before she loosens up enough to let Beca spin in her arms. Lazily, she drapes her arms over Beca’s shoulders, kissing her right in the middle of the hallway, without a care in the world.

“I’m just glad you came, Bec.”

The nickname, still as jarring as it was when Chloe first used it, somehow warms Beca’s heart. She finds comfort in it; she finds comfort in how out of left-field it feels. And beyond that, beyond the nickname, she finds comfort in Chloe’s sincerity.

“I’m late,” Beca repeats, wonder creeping into her tone.

“I don’t care.”

“Really?” Beca asks, unsure why she is fixating on this one little instance. This one moment between them in their new, budding relationship. Everything between them is passion and desire, but also an undercurrent of something incredibly deep. She pulls on Chloe’s hips, having only just a moment of clarity which she finds in Chloe’s blue eyes before Chloe’s lips collide into her own. Like the softest of blows, Chloe’s kiss knocks the wind out of her.

But, as Chloe has proven over and over in just a short period of time, Chloe catches her. She holds Beca close, deepening the kiss only slightly with the intent of inflicting passion and nothing more. Gently, her lips move against Beca’s—a greeting to surpass all greetings—as a hello.

Hello, you’re here. I’m happy to see you.

That and nothing more.

“Stay the night?” Chloe asks, breathless as she tilts her forehead to press against Beca’s.

“I would love to. But, um. I should definitely shower first.”

* * * * *

Beca had been tired, but she can’t think of anything else now with water dripping down her forehead and nose. The steam is almost overpowering, but her gasps have nothing to do with steam. She gasps, loudly and wantonly, because Chloe’s tongue is doing sinful things between her legs. She wants to grab something other than Chloe’s hair, but she knows that she can’t for fear of breaking something in Chloe’s shower.

Chloe’s tongue flicks out expertly against her clit, bullying it gently and stimulating it, pushing Beca’s sensitivity to its limits. Again and again, she flicks, occasionally sucking at whatever her mouth can reach. Chloe’s movements are almost lazy, with how sluggishly her hands scrape up and down Beca’s thighs, sending fresh waves of tingles across Beca’s skin.

With each pass of Chloe’s lips and tongue through and around her cunt, Beca trembles, shaking off every last moment from the day she just had. “Fuck...Chloe…” She tapers off into a broken-off moan when Chloe sucks on clit rather harshly. Her mouth falls open and her head tilts back, smacking against the hard tile behind her. The sensation is lost soon enough however, when Chloe draws away, sliding up Beca’s body. Chloe is panting herself when she comes face to face with Beca. Their lips collide, messy and sloppy in technique, but rife with desire and lust. Beca clutches onto Chloe’s shoulders with her remaining strength, attempting to keep up with how desperately Chloe’s tongue moves inside her mouth.

Shower all but forgotten, Chloe’s fingers navigate between her thighs. “I want to feel you like this,” Chloe murmurs. She nips a line down Beca’s jaw. “Feel you around my fingers.” She sucks at the spot she knows drives Beca crazy, unrelenting as two fingers slip inside her dripping pussy.

Beca moans, giving Chloe the sounds she enjoys most. She tenses, tight around Chloe’s fingers, attempting to draw in her girlfriend’s fingers further. They fit so well together, Chloe’s fingers pressed tightly inside her, Beca’s hands holding tightly to Chloe’s shoulders.

“Harder,” Beca breathes, clutching Chloe’s head to her chest. “Fuck, Chloe. Harder.”

Chloe whimpers at her words, lifting her head to press a kiss to Beca’s mouth as best as she can. “I’m—I just want—” She moans, moving her fingers in and out of Beca. “To take care of you, fuck—” She shudders, pressing herself more firmly against Beca’s thigh, wedged as best as she can against Chloe’s cunt. Her thrusts increase in intensity, both of them doing their best to maintain an upright position.

You are, Beca wants to say. She can do nothing more than cry out, pulling at Chloe’s hair as she finally comes, falling apart in Chloe’s arms.

* * * * *

The phone buzzes obnoxiously.

“Who is it?” Chloe asks sleepily. She moves as if to rise from the bed to retrieve their phones. Beca groans, pulling Chloe back into their comfortable cocoon-slash-duvet. “But—”

Beca could care less about who it is. All she knows is that she wants Chloe wrapped around her in more ways than one, but she’ll settle for at least cuddling at the bare minimum. Naked cuddling, on top of that.

“You’re so clingy tonight,” Chloe observes, but she does not sound upset about it. Instead, she sighs, wrapping her arms around Beca’s shoulders and nestling even closer. “And warm,” she adds happily. “Awesome.”

Beca hums, distracted by the soft curves of Chloe’s body. She presses her lips against Chloe’s collarbones—a kiss on each side—before she begins lazily kissing the column of her neck. Chloe shivers against her, though her arm tenses around her shoulders, tightening her hold.

“Again?” Chloe murmurs. She uses her free hand to trace the curve of Beca’s cheek and the line of her jaw. “You’re insatiable.”

Beca doesn’t bother arguing. She just tilts her head back so Chloe can see her face and she smirks for good measure, knowing that Chloe will cave soon enough.

On her phone—three missed calls: Jesse Swanson.

fin chapter 3

#bechloe #mafia au #fanfiction #pitch perfect #my fanfic #mine

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 13)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 My Master Post

Remy was slumped down in his seat as Emile continued to lecture him on all the possible consequences of his actions over the past 24 hours. Jeezy creezy was Emile miffed about all of that. Remy had been trying to blow it off, but Emile was fully, painfully aware that he’d almost had lost his brother today and Remy was going to hear about it until Emile’s lungs aches.

“And another thing…” he said.

“Wait,” Remy said, and Emile did because there was a lace of panic to his tone.

“What?” Emile asked.

“The tracker stopped working,” Remy answered pushing buttons a little bit desperately on his device.

“It went completely offline somehow,” Remy said.

“Did it get turned off?” Emile asked. “Or run out of batteries?”

“It doesn’t turn off and the batteries are designed to last for years,” Remy said. “It can even track through 20 feet of water. The only way it could stop sending a signal this abruptly is if the thing was destroyed.”

Emile paused. “You said Virgil knows what the blinking light means.”

“Yes.”

“Is it possible that he knows, or well, ‘knows,’ you’re dead? Barbara did send a man after him, he could have mentioned it.”

Remy stared down at the device in his hands.

He pressed a couple of buttons and studied the screen for a moment. “You little shit,” he groaned. “You threw it out the fucking car window, didn’t you?”

“How do you know?” Emile asked.

“Because if I look at the history, it was going at 65 miles per hour down the interstate, suddenly stopped cold, and then went offline probably when another car inevitably crushed it.”

“Ah.”

“Well, at least the fucker’s probably okay. Dammit Virgil! Where are you going?” Remy pushed a few more buttons almost idly as he thought. “Let me get into Virgil’s head for a minute: emo music, dark clothes, would rather have his toenails ripped out than go to parties, makes split second decisions based on little info. Yep! Got him.”

Emile rolled his eyes, but Remy wouldn’t have noticed as he had his own eyes closed. “Hmm. So, I’m Virgil. My bitch mom killed my dad and sent someone after me. I have no idea what’s going on, but I bolt out of there because fuck mom. I want to get the hell out of dodge so I convince someone to drive me somehow, I guess, but where would I want to go? Someplace safe. Where’s safe? Maybe Emile, but obviously that’s not where he went. Or Janus, but he’s too connected to mom. I don’t really know anyone else, especially not someone who could help with this sort of stuff.”

Remy thought for another long moment. “Oops.”

“Oops?” Emile asked. “What oops?”

He could tell by the expression on Remy’s face that he was not going to like the answer. “I may have let something… slip.”

“What do you mean, Remington?”

“Um, well you see,” Remy said. “A couple of months ago Virgil was being, you know, himself: a little shit. He may have, possibly, found some papers.”

“What kind of papers?” Emile asked.

“They were nothing important!” Remy assured. “There wasn’t any dangerous info in them or anything, but…”

“But?”

“It is somewhat possible that they had the name on them.”

“How possible?” Emile asked, eyes narrowed on him.

“He asked what Green Bellow Foods was and why they needed 50 top-of-the line computers outfitted at an old factory.”

“And what did you tell him?!”

“Nothing!”

Emile glared at him.

“Okay, well I had to tell him something,” Remy mumbled. “I just kind of said that I knew the owner well and was working with him on some stuff. Then I told him not to worry about it, which was probably a mistake, because he’s Virgil. So, then I found him snooping in my car. At that point I had to sit him down and talk to him. So, I told him a bit about Logan.”

“Remy that’s not nothing!”

“I didn’t use his name or anything. I just told him a couple of really, extremely, tremendously, vague stories, so he didn’t think I owed money to the mafia. Which, yes, he did suggest.”

“That’s worse!”

“What do you want from me Emile?!”

“Some common sense!” Emile answered. “I’ve been comparing you to the rat in Ratatouille for years, but I’m starting to think you’re more of a Pinky from Pinky and the Brain.”

“Hey, ouch,” Remy replied. “Also, I personally subscribe to the theory that Pinky is actually the intelligent one who is foiling Brain’s evil plots from the inside. So, there.”

“Now is not the time,” Emile said.

“Oh, it’s not the time to discuss cartoon theories?” Remy mumbled into his lap. “Must be serious.”

“It is serious! Virgil is missing!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Remy snapped. “I know, Emile.”

There was quiet. Emile took a breath. “Okay,” he said, calmer. “Do you really think he’s going to Logan?”

“He’s headed somewhere,” Remy answered, “and wherever that somewhere is, it’s inexplicably down the most direct route towards base.”

“Well, Virgil is smart. I don’t think he’d just keep going so quickly without a destination in mind. We should call Logan.”

“Do you honestly believe Barbara doesn’t have your phone tapped when Virgil is missing? If you had one of Logan’s phones, I might agree with you, but as it is, we’d be giving away our position, and possibly clueing her into Virgil’s plan. If he shows up at base, Logan will take him in no question. It’s less dangerous for everyone this way.”

“Fine,” Emile said. “We’ll just keep driving towards Logan and hope you’re right about where he’s going.”

“Of course, I’m right,” Remy said lightly. “I’ve got the paternal instincts going on. Course, they didn’t stop the knife throwing incident of ’09. I blame Janus for that, though.”

Emile shook his head at him.

“It is good for when he tries to steal sweets, or that one time he brought home a baby piglet and tried to hide it from me in his bedroom. Or when he’s feeling anxious about something but won’t tell me because he thinks it’s silly.” Remy’s own fingers tapped out an anxious pattern against his knee. “It also worked with the golf cart incident, but it was too late. Again, I blame Janus. He messes with the paternal instinct meter. He’s far too unpredictable and I make the mistake of thinking he’s responsible, which he is half the time, but the other half of the time I remember that he’s still mostly a kid and one that grew up in an unstable environment. Did I tell you that last month they went and won a bunch of tickets at the arcade and used them to get those 5 ticket rubber ducks and just unloaded them all over my room? Honestly, you’d think a 21-year-old would have a better use for his money or at least have the brains to go buy them at a store. He could have gotten like 500 more ducks for the same amount of money. Of course, it was his mom’s money, so I guess I can get behind wasting it on arcade games and rubber ducks. The prank was apparently based on some comedy sketch Virgil found online.”

“You’re doing the thing again,” Emile pointed out calmly.

“Stop psych evaluating me,” he shot back.

“Fine, fine,” Emile said. “Keep distracting yourself from your emotional responses with silly stories. See if I care.”

“Thank you,” Remy replied. “I will.”

Emile sighed as he started back up again mumbling something about having taken away Virgil’s Gameboy after catching him playing it at 3 o’clock in the morning. He claimed this wasn’t because the boy hadn’t gotten any sleep on a school night, but because he’d insulted Donkey Kong to Remy’s face. After that story had run its course, Remy continued to babble at an increasingly fast pace about all sorts of things. Emile imagined most of the stories he sprouted off were quite embellished.

Emile had tried to turn on the radio once, but Remy had slapped his hand away saying, “The next one’s a really good one.” So, he had resigned himself to his fate of tuning out Remy’s coping mechanism to the best of his abilities and just focusing on driving for the next 45 minutes. Which is probably why he noticed that traffic had strangely decreased. He didn’t really pay the fact that much mind until the traffic suddenly increased… in the form of a wall of stopped cars.

“Jenkies, what’s going on?” he asked, as he came to a stop at the end of the line of cars.

“Um…” Remy said looking out of his car window. There, staring into their car with beady black eyes was a cow. As Emile watched, said cow leaned forward to drag its tongue across the passenger side window. “Shit.”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 14

#sanders sides #remy sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #platonic remile #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #road trips and missing persons #adriana writes #murder mentioned #emile piccani

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trashyswitch · 3 years

Text

The Ghosts of His Past

Part 2 to: Don't Release The Spirits! Link

William develops a relationship with the 5 ghost kids he originally killed. They spend time together, play games, and comfort each other when they're down. But another ghost comes out from the shadows, and immediately contradicts everything William had built up...

There is implied child murder, discussions about child murder, and implied suicide. If any of these topics bother you, you can either click off or read at your own risk.

It is still unknown whether a person’s soul lingers with their physical body. So far, the kids’ circumstance has proven it doesn’t. William had realized that despite the kids’ bodies being taken and properly dealt with for their funerals, their souls were no longer linked to their bodies long after being killed. The only body that still really existed within the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria building, was William’s body. But that was only because his body was hidden too well for them to find. No one could tell that there was a body in that suit, unless they looked at the blood or actually opened the suit head. But William was a little nervous for that day to come. What if his soul was still linked to his body? And if so, then what would happen if he could feel the suit head being pulled off of him?! The thought terrified him.

It terrified him so much that he would spend some time just floating in the storage room, staring at the suit with blood surrounding it.

Today was one of those days where William would do this. He would just stare...stare until he couldn’t stare anymore. Soon, another ghost came floating through the door. “Hi William.” someone greeted.

William knew exactly who it was. “Hi Cassidy.” William replied. Cassidy was the only ghost that hasn’t called him Dad yet. She preferred to go by ‘Uncle William’ or ‘William’, depending on her mood during the day.

“Staring at your body again?” Cassidy asked. William gave her a slight nod. “Why? It’s just gonna make you feel worse.” Cassidy told him. “We didn’t spend hours looking at our bodies. Sure, we didn’t get to see them very much. But we didn’t dedicate time to stare at our bodies like you do.” Cassidy told him.

William sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I know.” William replied. “I know it’s just gonna make my thoughts whirl again. But...I’m nervous.” William admitted.

“Nervous you’re gonna feel your unconscious body’s pain?” Cassidy asked.

William looked at Cassidy and nodded.

Cassidy floated over to the body and dug her hand into the suit. William widened his eyes. “What- HEY! DON’T!” William shouted, before tensing up for the pain that was gonna hit him.

...But…

Nothing happened. William opened one eye and opened both when he realized Cassidy was still digging around. There was nothing. No pain. “...Wait…” William muttered, confused.

Cassidy removed her ghost hand and turned around. “See?” Cassidy revealed, showing her hands.

But...there was one tiny problem: her hands weren’t bloody.

“Why aren’t they bloody?” William asked. “And...If you’re a ghost, are you even able to interfere with my physical body?” William asked.

To further prove William wrong, Cassidy dug into the suit again and ripped out some wires and...Oh god...Was that-

William widened his eyes in horror and disgust. But...she was right. He wasn’t experiencing pain. “...Wow.” William reacted, looking down at himself. Nothing of his ghost body had changed.

“Now do you see?” Cassidy asked, throwing the mixed handful of guts aside. “No pain, no worries.” Cassidy replied. Even as she ridded her hand of the guts, her ghost hands were not covered in blood. Only the guts themselves were slightly bloody.

Cassidy floated to William. “Now come: You have a family to come home to.” Cassidy encouraged, grabbing his hand and floating through the door together.

Even though William’s body was still technically connected to the springtrap suit, William was still capable of moving away from the suit and onto the stage whenever he pleased. This stage became William and the kids’ shelter during their time spent in purgatory. So, that’s where they headed. William and Cassidy flew themselves through the stage curtains and observed the cute scenes within the stage: The kids had made 2 separate forts out of the worn out pair of torn red curtains that had been previously discarded in the storage room. They had multiple dining room chairs set up to keep the curtains up, and had half-deflated balloons as pillows for their forts. They had also hung up party banners as the fort curtain entrances, and used the leftover party hats to make their forts look more castle-like on the top.

“Sir Gabriel! The Mighty Men have broken our entrance walls!” Fritz told Susie.

“Oh no! I will start repairs right away!” Susie declared.

“But your Majesty! You’re the queen! How will you repair the walls if I’m fighting?” Fritz asked.

Cassidy smiled and grabbed the toolbox hammer. “Worry not, Soldier Fritz! I, The handy girl, is here to fix your walls!” Cassidy declared.

“Hallelujah!” Fritz declared.

Susie pouted. “I wanna fix the wall! Being a queen is boring. You can’t do anything!” Susie whined.

“You can help me, if you want to.” Cassidy offered. “I’ll let you hold the hammer too.” Cassidy offered.

Susie gasped and held her hands out for the hammer. Cassidy handed the hammer to her, and watched as the hammer weighed Susie right down to the ground. The hammer was just too heavy for her ghost hands to carry.

This ended up being a hilarious thing for William to watch: he let out a short laugh in reaction. Suddenly, Susie looked at William! “DAD’S BACK!” Susie shouted, throwing the hammer to the side and floating quickly to William. Cassidy yelped in surprise and tensed up for the hammer to hit her on the chest…

...Only for the hammer to float right through her body.

Cassidy opened her eyes and observed the hammer that was floating below her footless bottom. “...Oh.” She reacted. She had managed to forget she was a ghost and couldn’t actually get injured by physical objects.

William lifted Susie up and hugged her happily. “Hello Susie! Having fun?” William asked.

“Yes! We’re playing a game where a girl kingdom and a boy kingdom are fighting to take over the other!” Susie explained.

William giggled. “Yeah? Who’s winning so far?” He asked.

“THE BOYS!’ Jeremy yelled, sitting on the ‘throne’.

Fritz and Gabriel were doing a sword fight with wooden sticks and were being cheered on by Susie and Jeremy. It didn’t take long for the kids to throw their sticks back to their forts and for the kids to start wrestling.

“YES! SHOW FRITZ WHO’S BOSS!” Jeremy shouted.

“KICK HIM IN THE CROTCH, FRITZ!” Susie yelled.

“I CAN’T KICK HIM IN THE CROTCH! HE FEELS NO- EEK!” Fritz shouted to Susie, before being shoved to the ground by Gabriel.

“A-HA! I’ve GOT YOU NOW!” Gabriel declared.

“Not for long!” Fritz declared, before reaching her arm up to tickle him.

“Nope!” Gabriel declared, pushing her arm down. Fritz reached her other arm up. “Not happening!” Gabriel declared again, pushing her other arm down. But that didn’t stop the girl from leaning forward and blowing a raspberry on his neck! “BWAAAAHAHAHAHA!” Gabriel let go and floated away quickly. But Fritz was already up and chasing him! “WAIT! NO! FRITZ! STOP IT! EEEK!” Gabriel shouted amidst his quick ‘running’.

“Wow! For a person who’s part of the man side, you sure scream like a girl. Maybe you should join us!” Fritz suggested.

“NO! NEVER! I AM A BIG BOY!” Gabriel argued.

Fritz soon caught up to him and pinned him down. “About as big as a school desk.” Fritz replied with a smirk as she wiggled her fingers at him.

“Hey! That’s mean! I’m taller than a desk!” Gabriel argued.

“Fine. How about this: As big as a teacher’s desk?” Fritz offered.

Gabriel thought for a moment, and slowly nodded. “Okay. I can see tha- YAAAHAHAHAHA! EEEHEHEHEHEHE! FRIHIHIHIHITZ!” Gabriel shouted, laughing hysterically as Fritz drilled near his hips.

“Yes soldier?” Fritz replied.

“STAHAHAP TIHIHIHICKLIHIHING MEHEHEHEHE!” Gabriel begged.

“Do you accept defeat? Do the girls win this war?” Fritz asked.

“IHIHIHI…” Gabriel replied, not really sure what to do.

“DON’T GIVE UP, GABRIEL!” Jeremy called to him. “YOU CAN DO IT!”

“KEEP TICKLING HIM, FRITZ! GO FOR HIS NECK AGAIN!” Susie cheered on.

William was just giggling to himself as he watched the whole thing. If only the world wars had been fought like this...There would’ve been next to no bodies to clean up.

“OHOHOKAHAHAHAY! IHIHI GIHIHIHIVE UHUHUP! GIHIHIHIRLS WIHIHIHIN!” Gabriel finally gave up.

“Awwww…” Jeremy whined.

“YES! GIRLS WON! WE WON! GIRLS RULE! BOYS DROOL!” Susie shouted, standing up from her throne and jumping around.

William smirked and walked up behind her. “Now you be careful what you’re saying, Susie bear…” William warned with a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Susie’s cheering quickly paused as she realized who was behind her. Susie turned around and looked up to William. “...Oops.” Was all Susie said.

“Come here you!” William declared before picking her up. Susie let out giggles and quickly bursted out laughing as William lightly squeezed her lower ribs and skittered his fingers all over her belly. “Tickatickatickatickatickatick- atickatickatickatickatick!” William teased super quickly.

“EEEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA! DAHAHAHAD NOHOHOHOHO!” Susie laughed.

“Dad nooo? That’s cute. Looks like poor Susie should’ve thought about that before you said that boys drool.” William suggested.

“BOYS! THE TICKLE MONSTER HAS SUSIE! DOGGIE PIIIILLLLE!” Fritz shouted.

Suddenly, there was a war cry of 4 other kids floating up to him super quickly before kitty slapping him. Though it took Cassidy’s hand to get William onto the ground, the kids did manage to get William down so they could doggy pile him.

“Help! I’m being doggy piled! aaAAAAH! Hahahaha! Ahahand tihihickled! HAHAHAhahaha!” William fake yelled, quickly falling into giggles and laughter.

“TICKLE ATTACK!” Cassidy declared before tickling his ribs and sides.

William squealed and bursted out laughing almost immediately. The kids quickly joined in, tickling his armpits, his hips, his feet, and his neck. Fritz had started going for the abs as well, which ended up being the best choice she’s ever made. “HAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHO AHAHAHABS! NOHOHOHOHOHO AHAHAHAHABS!” William screamed.

“Oooh! A keypad!” Fritz declared. Fritz started poking and pressing roughly on the abs like a telephone keypad. “Beep beep beep, beep beep beep, beep beep beep beep!” Fritz teased. William threw his head back and bursted into cackles. Fritz made her hand into a phone symbol. “Hello? Oh HI! Is this the tickle monster?” Fritz teased, looking at William from the corner of her eye.

“STAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIT!” William begged.

“Perfect! He is here, and ripe for the tickling.” Fritz replied to the fake voice on the other line.

“COHOHOME OHOHON GUHUHUYS! IHIHIHI NEHEHEED AHA BREHEHEHEAK!” William begged.

Jeremy and Susie both bursted out laughing. “No you don’t! You’re a ghost just like us! You don’t need air!” Gabriel argued amidst his own laughing.

William looked at himself and realized: Yeah...he’s right. “BUHUHUHUT STIHIHIHILL! IHIHI’M GOHOHONNA GEHEHEHET YOHOU GUYS BAHAHAHACK!” William told them.

Susie giggled. “I know.” She replied.

Suddenly, Fritz started clawing and spidering her fingers all over William’s abs! “eeEEEEHEHEHEHEHE! HAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO SPIHIHIDERIHIHIHIHIHING!” William pleaded.

“Is poor Papa afraid of spiders?” Fritz teased.

“AHAHAHA LIHIHIHITTLE.” William replied.

“Oh no!” Fritz reacted, looking at the other kids with a wink. “Guess we’d better get more spiders crawling around, then.” Fritz replied, wiggling her fingers like spiders to show the kids what to do.

William’s eyes widened in fear as he stared at the kids’ signalling. He knew EXACTLY what they were planning, and he knew he was gonna love it, AND hate it all at once. Suddenly, all 5 kids spidered their fingers all over William’s sides, belly, ribs, hips, armpits and neck. William was laughing and wiggling around absolutely everywhere! It was hilarious for the kids to see him wiggling around like a fish out of water, and even MORE hilarious watching him wave away the spiders that weren’t really spiders.

“Hmm? What’s going on?” a voice asked. The kids suddenly stopped their tickle attack and looked to their right:

There, rubbing their eye, was the ghost of a tiny girl with long brown hair, and a red wound on the right side of her right chest. The rest of the ghosts flew over to her.

“Hi Charlie!” Cassidy greeted.

“Sorry Charlie.” Susie immediately apologized.

William was still quite giggly from the tickle attack. He was holding himself in the fetal position and letting out the leftover giggles that were still in his lungs. He didn’t even realize there was another ghost on the stage.

Charlie smiled at the two forts. “I see you guys are having fun.” Charlie said to them.

“We were playing war kingdoms!” Jeremy declared.

“And the girls won!” Susie added.

Charlie giggled. “That’s great!” she said.

Soon, William finally calmed down enough to sit himself up. “Who’s he-” William paused his words when he realized just who he was looking at. She was completely familiar to him. He knew this ghost all to well. But...How did…

Charlie turned to look at William and widened her eyes as well. She backed up slightly gasped in fear. “Get behind me.” Charlie ordered the rest of the ghosts.

“It’s okay, Charlie. He’s-” Jeremy tried.

“Behind me. Now.” Charlie ordered again, glaring at Jeremy.

Jeremy, and the rest of the ghosts went behind Charlie before Charlie threw her arms out to the side to guard them from the murderer. “Uncle. William. Afton.” Charlie said slowly, her strong voice covering up the fear she felt. “Father to Elizabeth and Michael...Best friends with my Father...And Co-founder of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.” Charlie explained.

William snapped out of his thoughts. “I...Charlotte-”

“CHARLIE.” she shot back.

William backed up slightly in fear, and looked away for a moment. “Ch...Charlie.” He said, growing more and more afraid of her.

Charlie noticed this and lightened up her facial expression. “Afraid?” Charlie asked.

William nodded his head. “And confused. I killed you outside the building. Why would you cling to the building?” William asked.

“You think I had a choice?” Charlie asked. She looked at the music box and pointed to it. “My soul possessed one of your animatronics.” Charlie explained. “That kept my soul in the Pizzeria.” She explained. “These souls possessed your animatronics too.” Charlie explained.

She started pointing to the kids and stating which animatronic they became.

She pointed to Jeremy first. “Bonnie.” Charlie said.

She pointed to Gabriel. “Freddy Fazbear.” Charlie said.

She pointed to Susie. “Chica.” Charlie said.

She pointed to Fritz. “Foxy.” Charlie said.

She pointed to Cassidy. “Golden Freddy.” Charlie said.

And lastly, she pointed to herself. “Marionette.” Charlie said.

William’s eyes widened in horror.

Then, Charlie looked to the souls. “You guys were tickling him. Spending time with him. Treating him...like he didn’t end your lives.” Charlie reacted calmly.

William looked away.

Fritz stepped up. “He feels remorse for what he did.” Fritz told her. “He apologized for ending our lives. The reason why he did it was because he wanted his own family.” Fritz explained.

William tensed his face. Charlie frowned and looked at William. “You had your own family! What was wrong with the family you had?!” Charlie asked.

William looked away.

“And I still don’t understand why you killed me.” Charlie added.

Fritz’s eyes widened. “He killed you too?!” Fritz reacted.

“Yes. I was his first murder.” Charlie replied.

“...Oh.” Fritz replied.

“...Well, he’s dead now too.” Gabriel told her.

“How? And why here, surrounded by the ghosts of the children you killed?” Charlie asked.

William looked up a little, but still refused to look at her. “I springlocked myself.” He replied. “I triggered the springlock suit in the office, and...died.” William replied.

“Why?” Charlie asked. “Did you finally feel bad about all the crimes you committed? Did you feel like you couldn’t handle jail life?” Charlie asked.

William slightly smiled. “I ended my life because I had nothing else left to lose.” William replied. “My daughter is dead, my youngest is dead, and my wife is dead too. Michael is the only one living at this point. Living with the guilt of his family, and struggling to make his own life out of the rubble I left him in.” William explained.

Charlie lifted her eyebrows slightly. “And how in the world did all that occur? Hm?” Charlie asked.

William frowned and glared at her. “You don’t deserve to know.” William shot at her. “I want you to know that keeping your death nice and quick was a mercy move I purposefully made. Your murder could’ve been much more painful.” William told her.

Charlie’s eyes widened in surprise. Did...did he really just say that? “And how was a 3 year old supposed to know that the way you killed me, was ‘merciful’?! How would you feel if my father came up behind you with a knife and ended your life without a second thought?!” Charlie yelled.

William softened his expression a little and looked away. He knew Charlie would be hurt. He knew Charlie would be angry at him if they reunited. He knew this all along. But William didn’t know that Charlie had become one with the pizzeria. He never knew.

...Perhaps he should’ve...

#fluff and angst #ticklefic #switch!william #switch!children

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analogicisms · 4 years

Text

Music & Poetry - Chapter One

Summary: Popular-but-not-really-famous lyricist Virgil Quinn meets an attractive poet named Logan who claims to hate music. Virgil, who believes lyrics to be every bit the poetry as the kind found in books and anthologies and inspirational posters, feels the need to prove to Logan wrong.

Ship: Analogical (with others in the background)

Rating & Warnings: PG 13.

Chapters: 1 - 2

AO3: Chapter One

Thanks to @romantichopelessly for betaing and to @sunshineandteddybears and @paperghastly for pre-reading.

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Chapter One

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♞ LOGAN ♞

Logan sighed as he checked his phone for the second time in two minutes. He was standing outside of the main hall of the university where he would be speaking on that day. Due to his need for extensive planning, however, he was nearly two hours early for when he was required to be there.

He considered checking in with the dean of the school but knew that many people felt inconvenienced by those who arrived more than an hour early. Typically, Logan didn’t care too much about inconveniencing others with early arrivals, but Thomas Sanders, the dean of the school, was not just some man who had invited him to speak at this year’s graduation. Thomas was also a very dear friend of his, and Logan would hate to add any undue anxiety onto the man’s already burdened shoulders.

Sighing again, Logan considered the time once more before opening Google Maps and searching for nearby cafes.

Of course, Logan thought as his eyes took in the ten plus pins indicating Starbucks Coffee shops in the area. It was not that Logan was a coffee snob, though his best friend Roman would disagree, he was simply a man who knew what he liked, and Starbucks was awful in terms of taste compared to value. In his opinion, of course—although anyone who disagreed was an idiot.

Scrolling down to the list, his gaze was caught by the third listing. The Bumble Bean. Logan hummed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the pun. It was, after all, better than the alternative.

He noted the letter corresponded with the shop before consulting the map. Clicking on the name of the cafe, it popped up on the map and Logan clicked its little pin. The shop’s information appeared in a little bubble, including the business hours and, more importantly, the distance from his current location.

A block and a half away. Not bad for a walk, especially considering the suit he wore. Decision made, Logan set down his messenger bag long enough to pull off the suit jacket. Lifting his bag from the ground, he draped his jacket over the bag and shouldered the strap once more.

A quick click of the directions link on Google Maps and he was on his way.

☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

💀 VIRGIL 💀

Virgil leaned back in the leather armchair he occupied, covering a yawn with his arm.

“Don’t start with that now, ViVi.”

Virgil grinned as he looked up at the barista who also happened to be his best friend.

“Sorry, Pat.”

Patton Hart was five foot four inches of adorable from the top of his curls to his white chucks with rainbow cat faces printed on the material. He also had the endearing habit of worrying for his friends. Especially Virgil.

“Late night again?” Patton asked, brows furrowing in concern behind oversized glasses with gold round frames. Virgil nodded. “Sleep is important, kiddo.”

Anyone who overheard the conversation would likely wonder why Patton—who easily looked younger than Virgil, though they were actually the same age—was calling him kiddo, but Virgil had come to accept that as just Patton being Patton. He was definitely a mom and dad friend.

Virgil sighed. “Yeah.” He brought a hand to his eyes, closing them to rub at the lids before offering Patton a winning smile. “These lyrics won’t write themselves.”

Patton pursed his lips as he set Virgil’s black coffee down on a coaster. Once he’d straightened up, hands were fisted and rested on hips. Virgil tried his best to hold back a grin, but the other looked too adorable like that and so he failed. Miserably.

“It’s not funny, Virgil. One of these days, you’re gonna wish you’d listened to dear ol’ Patton.”

“And when that day comes, I will gladly accept your ‘I told you so’. Unfortunately, I’m a night owl and my brain works best in the dead of night.”

Patton tutted but said nothing else on the matter. “Don’t forget, its drinks night tonight. Emile will be late but I should be able to close up a little early so I’ll be there at ten.”

Virgil nodded. “Alright. Honestly, though, I don’t know why I even go. Ever since you two started dating, I feel like such a third wheel. Are you sure you two just don’t want the time to yourself? You and I could always catch up later.”

“Nonsense. Emile is as much your friend as he is mine, boyfriend or not. And, I don’t want to hear another word about it, mister.”

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, mom.”

“Good. Now, drink your coffee before it gets cold.” He glanced up at the front and gave a start. “Oops, gotta get back to work. I’ll try to chat when the rush ends.”

Virgil waved him off. “Sure thing, buddy. Talk to you later.”

Watching Patton make his way behind the counter, Virgil let his gaze wander to take in the other patrons of the little cafe. A smile slipped onto his lips as he remembered the day three years ago when Patton rushed up to him before blurting out his idea for a bookstore coffee house. Virgil had never seen his best friend so excited about anything in his life, which was saying a lot considering Patton’s default setting was excited.

It had taken a lot of work and Virgil had put a lot of money into the place—an investment, he had told Patton when the other tried to refuse—but the struggle had paid off in the end. The Bumble Bean had quickly become one of the hot spots in town, especially for students at the local university and high schools. Virgil was proud of his friend and never missed a chance to tell him, either.

The gentle, light sound of the bell on the door sounded and Virgil idly glanced in that direction.

Oh. My. God.

A man who looked not much older than Virgil--but dressed in way nicer clothes than Virgil had ever owned--stepped inside and looked around before heading toward the counter. Virgil watched him as he made his way across the café, his eyes taking in the man's face as his own heated up considerably.

Gay panic is real.

Virgil quickly looked away, busying himself with drinking his coffee. Unfortunately, due to his preoccupied brain, he had forgotten that coffee was generally very hot, and burned his tongue.

“Fuck.” He swore under his breath, tongue now numb and raw. Setting the cup down, Virgil glanced at the man from the corner of his eye.

I’m gay. I am so fucking gay.

Virgil watched as the man stepped up to the counter after the last customer finished paying. He found himself wondering what kind of drink the man would order, mentally reminding himself to ask Patton later. Watching Patton help the man, Virgil guessed at what kind of job the man had.

A businessman… then again, those pants are fitted as fuck… lawyer, maybe? Or CEO of some Fortune 500…

Pursing his lips, Virgil shook his head. The man didn’t look like a slimy, two-timing, grubby-handed snake. It was possible he was dressed for a specific event. The suit aside, Virgil would guess a professor, or a scientist even. There was no way he would be able to guess correctly, he decided. No point trying.

Turning his attention to his coffee, Virgil was momentarily distracted by the sound of feedback coming from the front. A stage was set up on the opposite side of the entrance, a young guy around Virgil’s age if not younger moving the stool closer to the microphone already present. There was a guitar in his other hand and a smile slipped onto Virgil’s face.

Virgil Quinn was a college student at the local university but he was also a well-known lyricist. Well, well-known was a little generous considering most people weren’t really interested in lyricists so much as the band or artist themselves. Most lyricists were annoyed by that fact but not Virgil. He liked being famous without actually being famous.

Unlike the bands that sang his songs, Virgil could go where he liked, when he liked, with no concern for his safety or his privacy. Even on the rare occasion, a fan did care about the person who wrote the songs, his work was still appreciated and loved from afar. His pictures weren’t the ones being plastered online, on busses, on television ads, and so on. He had more Twitter, Instagram, and YouTube followers than the average person and he was relatively “known”, but definitely not enough that it made much difference to his daily life.

That was exactly how Virgil preferred it.

“Do you mind?”

Virgil’s attention had been successfully distracted enough that he hadn’t noticed anyone come up.

“Mind?” Virgil’s indifferent attitude quickly turned shy and awkward as he turned to look at the person who asked the question. The gorgeous Mr. Maybe-A-Scientist.

“I’d like to claim that chair over there but I’ll need to get past you to get there. If you don’t mind.”

Virgil seized up before mentally reminding himself that this was just another guy. Another human being. He could play it cool.

Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’t blush.

Virgil glanced at the chair before looking back up at the man. He cleared his throat and stood up.

In the brief few seconds that past between them as Virgil stood so he could shift out of the man’s way, Virgil became certain of a handful of things.

First, the man with his dark gray, nearly black eyes could not be a CEO or lawyer. While his eyes held a certain level of cold, there was far too much feeling in them. Too much depth. Second, the man was at least a head shorter than him but there was no way Virgil would have known if he hadn’t stood up. The confidence the man held about him was absolutely admirable. Virgil would have been worried the man was arrogant or, worse, a narcissist but he seemed far too polite and formal. Instead of self-importance, it was an air of near indifference that radiated from him.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. No sweat.”

Virgil could have mentally kicked himself. No sweat? Seriously? This man was obviously a man that existed off of intellectual knowledge and discourse. The best he could come up with was no sweat?

Virgil watched the other’s face, certain to see some sort of sign of dismissal but it never came. Instead, the man raised a brow and a second later, his lips quirked upwards. It was slight. So slight that Virgil wasn’t even certain he truly saw it. That was until the man spoke again.

“I still need to get by you, I’m afraid.”

Was that amusement Virgil heard laced ever so subtly throughout the carefully chosen words? Virgil glanced at where he stood and swore under his breath. He was an absolute idiot. One thing was certain, however, as Virgil finally moved out of the other’s way. There was a definite spark of amusement in the man’s eyes and voice when he glanced back to thank him, before moving on to the armchair just on the other side of the coffee table.

Virgil blushed, quickly sitting once more and trying his best to melt into the couch. Not possible, of course, but he had to give himself props for trying. Deciding he had done enough damage to their interaction, Virgil turned his attention back to the stage where the young man with the guitar was now engaging the patrons sat around the stage.

As the singer started playing and fading into his song, Virgil almost forgot about Mr. Sexy Scientist. No, who was he kidding. There was no way he could actually forget about him. Not with him being so damn attractive. Not with him being so damn close. But, his focus was preoccupied just enough to take his mind off the man, if only for the moment.

That was, until a sound escaped the man, pulling Virgil’s attention back to him once more. Why is he so good looking? Life hated him. That was all there was to it. Putting such a gorgeous, put together man at arms reach only for Virgil to not have any chance in hell with him. The sound that left the man, however, had Virgil’s curiosity piqued. It was definitely a scoff that he had heard come from the well dressed man.

“Not a fan of this kind of music?” Virgil asked, before he could think better of it. He took note that the other had pulled out a book and was presumably reading it. He didn’t even look up at Virgil when answered his question.

“Not a fan of music, actually.”

Virgil raised a brow. There was no way he had heard correctly. “Sorry, what now?”

The man looked up this time, a wry sort of expression on his face. It was the look of someone who had had this conversation on more than one occasion and didn’t find it any more enjoyable than he had the first time. Virgil felt bad, but only a little. He was more curious and so offered an apologetic shrug, but continued to look at the man expectantly.

The man sighed, marking the page he had been reading with a finger and set the book in his lap. His eyes found Virgil’s and it was all he could do to not look away. Swallowing hard, Virgil waited to hear what the man was about to say.

“I’m just not a fan of any type of music. It’s just… not my thing. I guess, classical counts as music and I do enjoy that when I am writing but in the general view of what is music these days, I really can’t say any of it has my appreciation.”

Virgil frowned. How sad to not like any music. The man looked ready to return to his book but Virgil found himself not wanting the conversation to end just yet. Grasping for something to talk about, he took note of what the man had said.

“Writing?”

The man nodded. He continued to watch Virgil but was obviously not about to offer any further information without being prompted.

Just my luck. The most gorgeous man walks into my life and unwittingly challenges all my anxieties.

“What do you write?”

Maybe he was an author?

“I’m a poet.” Suddenly a hand was offered to him from across the coffee table. Virgil took it at the last minute, shaking it and trying hard not to focus on the fact that they were technically holding hands. Too soon, the man pulled his hand back. “Logan Wright. I don’t expect you’ve heard of me but you’ve most likely come across a few of my poems. They’ve been used in various media.”

Virgil could only nod, unsure of what to say. A poet! Not only that but a poet who doesn't like music. As a lyricist, Virgil was of the belief that lyrics were poetry put to notes in order to make a song—to make music.

The man went back to his book and Virgil watched him for a few moments before letting his attention return to the performer. The guy was not the best singer ever but played the guitar like a boss. Still, Virgil could hear the potential and knew well that this man could have a musical career hands down as long as he kept at it. The biggest draw to a singer like this one was that the words could be felt with his voice. That was a quality that so many singers didn’t have but the very quality that proved Virgil’s belief.

He knew he shouldn’t care. He knew well that the likelihood of him ever seeing this man—Logan—again was slim to none. Yet, he couldn’t keep his attention from returning to the man. Every few glances, he would see the other wince or grimace. Virgil wanted to feel offended on the singer’s behalf but instead, he just felt pity for Logan.

The time soon came when Logan stood and asked by him once again. This time Virgil was quick to stand and smiled shyly.

“Hope you have a good day.”

Wow, could I be any more lame?

The man smiled, however, and nodded. “Likewise.”

Virgil then watched him as he headed out of the shop and back into the world.

A few seconds passed, Virgil wishing he had asked for his number or something. Not only that, but the knowledge that the man was missing out on something that was inspiration for millions of people… that just didn’t sit right with him. If only he could spend a few days with Logan… show him what he was missing out on. Prove to him that not all music was bad and so much of it told a story.

Fuck.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Virgil rushed through the shop and out the door. He glanced in the direction the man had gone, his eyes falling on his retreating back.

“Logan!” he called out. The man stopped and turned, tilting his head in a cute manner. Virgil didn’t focus on that, instead starting toward him as the man started back, distance closing between them.

“Can I help you?”

Virgil blushed, suddenly unsure of himself. Was what he was about to propose stupid? Whatever. He would never know until he tried.

“Give me a week.”

Logan snorted. “I’m sorry, give you what?”

Virgil blushed and rushed on. “I mean… in there. What you said about music? Give me a week to prove you wrong.”

Logan blinked and slowly smirked. “And what makes you think I’ll even be here a week?”

That stopped Virgil in his tracks. It never even occurred to him that the man was out of town. He felt himself frowning and was about to apologize when the man spoke up again.

“I mean, I will be, as it turns out, but it is intriguing for you to just assume so. Still, your proposal has me curious. I don’t know exactly how you plan to change my mind, but I do like experiments as much as the next scholar. I do have somewhere to be at the present, but if you give me your number, I will text you.”

In the next moments, Virgil gave Logan his number and watched as he walked away. He had no idea how he had managed it, but now that was the least of his worries.

Virgil now had just under seven days to change the mind of a very hot, intelligent, and opinionated poet.

To say he had his work cut out for him was definitely an understatement.

☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

Disclaimer: The author does not own Sanders Sides or any of the characters found therein. They are also not affiliated with Thomas Sanders, Joan Stokes, or the Thomas Sanders team. Only the complete story as it is written is the property of the author and is not to be copied or reposted without express permission from the author.

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lastbluetardis · 3 years

Text

Chemical Reaction (20/22)

Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment. Part 2 in the Catalysis series. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: ~8000 words, explicit

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AO3 | FF | TSP

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 | Ch20 | Ch21 | epilogue

James awoke slowly, groggily. His head was pounding and his eyes were scratchy and blurry. He had slept deeply and dreamlessly, and now that he was drifting towards consciousness, he had absolutely no idea where he was or what day it was. If he’d had to give the year or month, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to do it.

He would have been perfectly content to close his eyes and try to fall back to sleep; however, the cat yowling at the foot of the bed was making that impossible, as was the sharp, pulsing ache in his bladder. Had he gone out drinking the night before? That might explain his throbbing head, his desperate need for the toilet, and the reason he was asleep in a strange bed.

“Pippin, shut it.”

James blinked through the haze of his vision. Rose lay next to him, but they weren’t in his bed. And they definitely weren’t in Rose’s bed; he had way too much room to splay his legs without them falling off the mattress. But the room was familiar. They were… in his guest room?

The events of the past night finally clicked. Rose was here. Rose was here after they’d made up from their awful fight, and she’d stayed the night with him.

His chest warmed with love and gratitude at the sight of Rose pulling a pillow over her head as Pippin began meowing more earnestly upon realizing both humans were awake.

“I hate your cat,” Rose mumbled, her voice nearly inaudible.

“You love him,” he cooed. Pippin paced in the thin strip of space between their bodies, then stepped onto James’s lower belly. James yelped and swiped his cat to the floor, ignoring Pippin’s cry.

Rose snorted. “All right?”

“I really need a wee,” he squeaked. He vaulted out of bed and sprinted across the hall to the guest bathroom, ignoring Rose’s laughter behind him.

After attending to his over-full bladder, James stumbled to the kitchen—noticing with a grumble it was only seven in the morning—and he filled Pippin and Merry’s food dishes. Preemptively, he went into the basement and placed their bowls down there, knowing he would start painting before too long. Neither cat realized what he intended to do until he trekked up the stairs and closed the door behind him. He heard the frantic sounds of racing feet, then the scratching of paws and claws at the door, followed by the most piteous mewl he’d ever heard.

“Oh, you’re fine,” he said. “Go eat your breakfast, bud.”

Not particularly wanting to stand there arguing with his cat, James turned away from the basement door and went into his guest room. Rose was snoring lightly, her chest rising and falling with her even breaths.

He hadn’t been sure if he would see this sight again, and he knew he would never take it for granted. Though wide awake, thanks to his stupid cat, James instead slipped beneath the sheets once more, nestling deep into the mattress. It wasn’t as cozy as his mattress, a little too firm for his liking. He suddenly wondered whether Rose liked his other bed or favored this one; in all the months they’d been sharing a bed, he never once thought to ask if she preferred firmer or softer mattresses. Maybe they could invest in one of those fancy, dual-firmness mattresses he was always seeing commercials for on the television.

James began getting antsy after only a few minutes of lying beside Rose. He tried to ignore it, to take advantage of snuggling with her, but his mind was awake and itching to do something. Plus, they weren’t really snuggling. He was on his side, watching her sleep.

Not creepy at all, he muttered to himself.

Noticing that he was beginning to fidget, James relented with a sigh. Pecking a soft, barely-there kiss to her forehead, he slipped out of bed again and padded into his kitchen to start coffee and clean up the dishes from the night before.

Quietly as he could, he emptied the dishwasher and hand-washed the few dirty dishes in his sink while his coffee brewed. He had the belated realization that the scent of coffee might be enough to disturb and wake Rose. Oops.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. He grabbed his hazelnut-flavored creamer from the fridge and poured a healthy dollop into the bottom of his caffeine molecule mug. He took his coffee to the kitchen table and grabbed a crossword puzzle book to keep himself busy; he didn’t want to start painting yet, since the fumes and the noise would probably wake Rose, if she wasn’t already awake.

Surprisingly, it was another hour before Rose joined him. James was deeply engrossed in his crossword and didn’t hear her soft footsteps; he jumped when she linked her arms around his neck and rested her chin on the top of his head.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice gravelly.

“Morning.” He tilted his head up, accepting her kiss.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Mhm. Like a rock. Which is nice, since I slept for maybe four hours last night. Well. Last morning. I didn’t actually try to go to bed until six, and I didn’t really sleep. Just sorta dozed on and off and…”

“You went to bed at six?” Rose interrupted, a frown evident in her voice.

“I was busy,” he said, a little defensively. “Gollum wee’d on my bed and the guest bed, so I had to wash all the sheets and duvets. D’you know how long it takes those things to dry? Oh, by the way, Gollum’s got a UTI. He’s at the vet. I should be able to pick him up today or tomorrow. But I was busy washing all of the blankets and sheets, and then I figured I would vacuum and wash my bathrooms between loads, and then I realized I hadn’t dusted in a while, so I—”

Rose leaned down and silenced him with a swift, hard kiss. His mind went blank as he cupped his hand around the back of her neck to hold her in place. She pulled away too soon for his liking and utterly ignored his pout.

“I love you, but blimey, you need to work on not talkin’ so much before I’ve had my first cuppa tea,” she drawled, ruffling his hair.

She moved away from him to start the kettle and to grab a mug and tea bag. James stood and refilled his mug with his third cup of coffee.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, filling the mug to the brim to finish off the coffee in the pot.

“Not really,” she admitted.

James’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Was it the mattress?”

Rose blinked. “What? No.”

“Is that mattress too firm?”

“No, it…”

“Do you like the mattress in my bedroom? I was thinking this morning that I never really considered the type of mattress you like, and if you don’t like what I have we can go shopping together for something you and I can both comfortably sleep on and…”

“Jesus Christ,” Rose muttered under her breath, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

James abruptly stopped speaking, his ears and cheeks burning. “Er, sorry.”

“Your mattresses are fine,” she said. “If you would’ve let me finish, I was about to say I had weird dreams that kept waking me up. I dreamt Jimmy showed up. In one of the dreams, you and him became best friends…”

“Fat fucking chance,” James blurted, irrationally irritated at his dream self. “Rose you know I would never…”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I know. Didn’t keep my subconscious from dreamin’ about it though. And in another, Jimmy kept shoutin’ at me for the most ridiculous things that I can’t really remember. I didn’t want to keep dreaming about him, so I figured I’d get up and we could start painting your bedroom.”

James stepped up to her, arms outstretched for a hug, if she wanted it. She did, and tucked her head beneath his chin, linking her arms around his hips.

“I haven’t responded to Jimmy yet,” she said quietly. “I didn’t tell him I got his letter. I don’t know what to say to him. Or if I even should say anything.”

James gave her a tight squeeze. He wanted to tell her to block his number and burn his letter, but ultimately the decision was hers. He would simply be there for comfort and support, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to vent to.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “So proud. I’ll be here for you no matter what.”

She tightened her hold around him, nearly clinging to him and ignoring the beeping of the kettle.

“Thanks.” She sighed and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “I’m gonna make an effort to tell you when I talk to Jimmy. If I talk to him.”

James ran his fingers through her hair. “I’ll be here to listen when you’re ready.” He kissed her gently. “Can I make you some tea and toast?”

She nodded and loosened her arms from around his hips, then allowed herself to be guided to an empty kitchen chair.

They ate a meager breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs while they sipped their respective hot beverages. When they’d finished eating and their plates and mugs were in the sink, James led Rose to the guest bedroom and found some old, ratty clothes she could borrow. He donned the shorts and paint-splattered t-shirt he’d worn the day before, and gave Rose a pair of mesh shorts and a frayed, stained t-shirt he often wore to do yard work.

“Right! Ready to get painty?” he crowed, clapping his hands together,

Rose giggled and nodded, but paused and asked, “Are Merry and Pippin gonna get in our way?”

“Locked ‘em in the basement,” he assured. As though to alert the world of his displeasure, Pippin began meowing very loudly from the basement door.

Ignoring his wailing cat, James took his phone with him in case the vet called, then he walked down the hall and flung open his bedroom door. The paint smell had dissipated somewhat overnight, and to his delight, all the walls looked dry enough for a second coat of paint.

They took a few minutes to discuss a plan of attack, wherein it was decided James would put the second coat on the ceiling while Rose started on the walls. That was how the next few hours passed, with James climbing up and down the ladder and working around Rose.

When the ceiling was completed, James opened up the can of glossy white paint to get started on the crown molding. Rose had finished two of the four walls, and they looked beautiful; the paint was even, with no brush or roller marks left behind.

His legs and core were getting sore from balancing on the ladder, and he wanted to say sod it to the crown molding. But he hadn’t been particularly careful when applying the paint to his walls and ceiling; as a result, the trim work was speckled with blue-gray paint. With a sigh, James dipped one of his smaller brushes and began the arduous, painstaking task of painting the trim around the ceiling.

After about an hour of scaling up and down the ladder, of reaching up and out to apply the paint, his back and shoulders were nearly burning with exertion. While he wanted nothing more than to stop for the day, he was eager to have this damn project finished. He was tired of his house smelling like paint and of needing to keep his poor cats sequestered in the basement.

He climbed down the ladder and returned the lid to the paint can, figuring they were due for a lunch break. With a groan, James leaned down and touched his toes, twisting slightly. It crackled like a bag of crisps. He exhaled as he straightened, then lifted his arms up and over his head. His back popped loudly, spreading relief through his entire spine.

“God that felt good,” he sighed, raking his hands through his hair. It felt a little damp with supposed perspiration.

“You’re covered in paint.”

James glanced over to where Rose was working the paint roller up and down the walls to apply a clean, even coat. His focus narrowed to the flex of her shoulders, visible even through the over-large t-shirt she was wearing. His mind’s eye could easily see the soft, smooth expanse of her back, the jut of her shoulder blades, the flesh on either side of the valley of her spine, the subtle dimples that peeked just above the waistband of her trousers. His fingers itched to push her shirt up, to map out her back and her belly, to press himself against her and kiss the side of her neck and her shoulder and…

He forgot she had spoken until she glanced over her shoulder at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat. “Well, you’re one to talk. You’re covered in paint too.” She’d pulled her hair up into a messy bun at the beginning of their venture, and several strands had escaped over the course of the morning, billowing around her face. Small streaks of paint adorned her forehead and cheeks from where she no doubt impatiently pushed her hair aside. “Besides, we’re painting. By default, that means we’re going to end up covered in it.”

Rose grinned, her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth. His stomach gave a funny little lurch, and he wanted to chase her tongue with his.

“Your hair is practically white,” she teased.

“No, it’s not,” he said, rolling his eyes fondly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Oh yeah?” she challenged. “Look at your hands.”

He blinked at her, then glanced down. To his horror, he saw that most of his right palm was coated in paint. He looked to the ladder: the brush he’d been using had wet, sticky paint all along the handle.

“Oh, no,” he moaned. He raced into his en suite and saw that Rose was right: paint was streaked and clumped in with his hair.

He groaned.

“Told ya.”

Rose stood behind him and linked her arms loosely around his middle. She rested her palms on his stomach and began to rub long, lazy lines up and down his torso. Goosebumps rippled across his skin and he tried to keep himself from shuddering at her touch.

“You ought to be more careful about where you set your brush,” she murmured, stretching onto her tiptoes to plant a kiss to the nape of his neck, right above his shirt collar. “Want some help washing it out?”

“My beautiful hair,” he whined, mostly to hear her laugh.

He succeeded; she giggled and reached up to ruffle his poor, paint-splattered hair. He could feel how stiff it had gotten with paint.

“C’mere.”

Rose dropped her arms from around his middle and skipped into the bedroom for the roll of paper towel they’d been using to try to keep their hands relatively clean. Clearly he had failed in that regard, and his hair had paid the price.

While she did that, James washed his hands, scratching at the dried paint with his nails until his hands were spotless and pink once more. He then angled his head at Rose when she finally joined him in the en suite. But she shook her head and boosted herself up onto the vanity countertop instead. She ripped off a few sheets of paper towels and ran them under warm water to moisten them.

She gestured for him to step closer, and he readily did. He was not expecting, however, for Rose to link her legs around his hips. She hooked her ankles over one another behind his thighs and pulled him even closer. He sucked in a sharp breath as the front of his hips met with hers.

Automatically, he rested his hands on her thighs. Her borrowed shorts had ridden up, and he couldn’t help but touch her bare skin. Her legs tensed, drawing him in, before they relaxed again.

“C’mere,” she repeated, and he leaned into her.

He dropped his head so it was in easier reach for her; his new vantage gave him a teasing view down the front of her shirt, which had gaped low in front as she leaned forward and up. He couldn’t see anything beyond the soft swell of the tops of her breasts and he had the ridiculous urge to rip the front of her shirt open.

Rose sank her fingers into his hair as she began to scrub the damp paper towel through it. He bit his lip as sparks of pleasure shot across his scalp whenever she used her nails to scratch at a particularly stubborn bit of paint.

“God, you really worked it in deep,” Rose muttered, voice an octave lower than normal.

“What can I say? I’m very thorough.” His voice cracked, and he cleared it impatiently.

Rose’s hands gradually stilled in his hair. She set the damp cloth to the side and he took that to mean she had given up on his hair. He lifted his head and met her gaze, as dark and hungry as the desire churning in his gut.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly their lips met, softly at first them more urgently as Rose flung her arms around his neck to pull him closer. Not knowing where to put his hands, he cradled them at her lower back, splaying his palms across her spine. James groaned and shuddered as her tongue slid against his, mapping out the contours of his mouth. She flicked her tongue along the roof of his mouth, then the backs of his teeth, then his upper lip. Next she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and bit it gently, scraping her teeth across it before she released it.

Heat unfurled low in his stomach, twisting and tightening his guts as it concentrated into a steady, dull ache in his groin. He could feel himself getting hard as Rose tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him in, in, in.

God, he wanted her. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her, body, mind, and soul. He wanted to make love with her, to hold her tightly as he pleasured her. He wanted to make her forget all about the heartbreak of the last twenty-four hours and to simply feel.

But after what she’d told him about makeup sex with Jimmy, would she even want to have makeup sex with him? He didn’t know, and so he would be perfectly satisfied to simply lose himself in her kisses for the rest of the afternoon. It would be enough to cradle her in his arms and let their breaths mingle in the same space as they shared kiss after kiss.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Rose mumbled into his mouth, reluctantly pulling away. Her lips were red and slightly swollen, her eyes dark and hooded. He recognized that expression, and his stomach clenched with anticipation.

“Sorry,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

However, she pressed her hand to his chest. “Wait. Do you want to be doing this?”

“You can’t feel my interest in this?” he drawled, smirking. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but was hard enough that there was no way Rose couldn’t feel it. Even so, he pressed himself lazily into her.

“There’s a difference in you wanting it versus your body reacting to it,” Rose said with a shrug. “If you’re not into this…”

“I am,” he promised. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to share with her what had been going on in his head. “I was just wondering if maybe you weren’t. What you said yesterday about makeup sex with Jimmy…”

He trailed off with a small shrug. Rose’s expression softened, and she leaned forward to press a gentle, brief kiss to his mouth.

“We used to have angry sex instead of talking,” she said. “You and I spent an hour last night talking things out and apologizing. You opened yourself up to me and made me feel comfortable to open myself to you. You let me know how I hurt you without raising your voice, calling me any rude names, or swearing at me. And you let me tell you how you hurt me without getting all defensive or dismissive about it.”

James’s blood began to boil as his hatred of Jimmy Stone was rekindled. He pushed it aside, however, to stay in this moment with Rose. Jimmy didn’t get to take up space between him and Rose, especially when they were sharing such intimacy together.

“That’s what I want from a relationship,” Rose concluded. “And now I would like to make love with my best friend because I want to make him feel good and show him how much I love him. And I want to forget about anything else because nothing else will ever be more important than him and me and what we share together.”

James’s chest tightened and he swore he had never and would never love anyone more than he loved Rose. He covered her lips in a frantic, hungry kiss, feeling as though he couldn’t get close enough to her. She moaned into his mouth and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, mapping out the planes of his stomach, his obliques, his chest. He shivered at her touch, nerves sparking.

He stuck one of his hands under her shirt, walking it up to her breast, while his other dipped into the front of her borrowed shorts. They were loose, giving him plenty of room to work. He groaned when his fingers met with her wet heat.

“Got hot and bothered watchin’ you,” she gasped as his fingers teased her, tracing long, slow lines through her. “Was gonna snog you on the ladder but figured that probably wouldn’t end well. Don’t really want you breaking your back falling off the ladder ‘cos I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.”

James snorted lightly. “I was getting distracted watching you too. I love seeing you in my clothes.”

“Good thing I like wearing your clothes. God.” She hissed when his fingers circled that wonderfully sensitive bundle of nerves. Her hips arched into him, urging him on.

He eagerly complied, keeping his touch light and unhurried, relishing the variety of sounds she made. From the low moans to sharp inhalations, the noises she let out tightened the coil in his belly. He was so hard and desperate to rub against something, or to shift aside their clothes and enter her. But he also wanted to continue pleasuring her, so he worked to ignore the demands of his body.

Rose, however, was as in tune with his body as he was, and must have sensed how tense he’d become. She stuck a hand down the front of his shorts and wrapped her fingers around his hard length. He groaned at the sensation, at the friction of her hand moving lazily up and down. Her rhythm was as slow as his, mirroring the motion of his fingers against her.

All the while, James kissed her. Their kisses grew clumsier as their breathing turned ragged. He gave up on kissing her and instead lavished attention to the side of her neck, concentrating his efforts on the sensitive skin beneath her ear and where her neck joined her shoulder.

“Rose, I want you,” he rasped, his belly clenching impatiently. “I want to be inside you. Let me make love to you. Let me make you feel good.”

She let out a whimper, her fingers tightening around him. He arched his hips greedily, urging her to continue even as he fumbled with the best way to shift her clothes.

Sensing his deliberation, she reluctantly took her hand out of his pants. She moved them to the edge of the vanity on either side of her hips.

“Here,” she panted.

She unhooked her legs from around his waist, then tightened her abdominal muscles and arms as she lifted her bum off the counter. Wasting no time, James hooked his fingers in the waistband of her shorts, grabbing them and her knickers. He slipped them down her hips and thighs in one smooth motion. She impatiently wiggled her legs, helping him remove her cumbersome clothes, before he finally got them free of her feet. He threw them to the floor, then made to drop to his knees in front of her.

“No,” she said, grabbing the front of his shirt to halt his movements.

He blinked. She loved oral, just as he liked giving it. “But…”

“Later.”

“Promise?” he asked with a pout.

She grinned. “You can go down on me for as long as you like later. But for now…” She cupped her hand around his erection through his shorts, stroking him slowly. He shuddered as his breath escaped him in a low groan. “I want you inside me. Right now.”

Carefully, she lowered his shorts to free his erection. He worked them all the way down his legs and kicked them off behind him. He next grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Rose scrabbled with her shirt as well. She threw it to the floor, then reached behind herself to unclasp her bra.

The heat in James’s belly tightened as her breasts were revealed. In his (totally unbiased) opinion, they were the most beautiful pair of beasts in the world.

Now that they were both naked, it dawned on James that there were far comfier places to do this.

“Let’s move to a bed, love,” he said, even though it was so, so tempting to stay right as they were. It would be easy to step between Rose’s legs and push himself into her wet heat; it would feel incredible, being surrounded by her, making her moan, feeling her clenching and throbbing around him.

He shuddered violently as his need spiked, but Rose was already hopping down from the vanity countertop in all of her naked glory. He couldn’t help but catch her in his arms and kiss her. He hissed when his erection pressed to her hip. He grabbed her arse and pulled her into him.

“Y’know, standing-up sex is much more difficult and uncomfortable than countertop sex,” Rose drawled, though her words died on a gasp when he covered her breast with his mouth. He flicked his tongue against her nipple and scraped his teeth across it.

It became too awkward to keep his neck bent like that, so he instead replaced his mouth with his hand and moved his lips to the side of her neck.

“You are utterly irresistible,” he breathed, repositioning his hips so his erection was stimulating her as well. He flexed and arched his into her, ignoring that primal urge to enter her, to make hard and fast love with her.

“Counter’s right there,” she sighed, threading her fingers through his hair and hooking a leg around his waist.

Oh, God, that was the angle he needed. On his next forward grind, the tip of his cock slipped through her folds, teasing him with a hint of heightened pleasure. Fire blazed through him, a desperate, aching, burning heat as his body exploded with sensations.

He thought he would never again get to do this with her, yet here he was, mere seconds from joining with her in that most intimate way that belonged just to them. She was the only one he would ever share this with, the only one he wanted to share this with.

“Rose,” he gasped helplessly, grinding into her harder and faster.

Raw desire overwhelmed him, and he could hardly do anything but cling to her.

“Bed.”

Rose lowered her leg from around him, causing him to slip away from her. He grunted in displeasure as his cock was met with the cooler air of the en suite.

A small, soft hand slipped through his, pulling him into the bedroom. The smell of paint was all around them. Brushes and rollers and paint cans were strewn around the room, but in the center of the room was a beautiful, glorious, comfortable bed. It was covered in a protective cloth canvas, but it would be a simple matter to shift the canvas aside.

Rose, evidently, had the same idea. She grabbed the edge of the canvas and shoved it to the foot of the bed, leaving them enough space to crawl onto the mattress.

They moved in perfect synchronicity, with Rose settling on her back, legs fallen to the sides, and James hovering atop her, his hips cradled in hers.

Rose wasted no time; she took him in hand, lined him up, and guided him inside of herself. He couldn’t help the soft cry as he was surrounded by her. She echoed his moan, locking her legs around his hips and digging her nails into his shoulder blades.

James began to shake. Hot shivers pricked across his body, and he had the mortifying dread that he was about to come any second. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think about anything other than how good it felt to be inside Rose, how safe and loved he felt, how relieved he was to be making love with the love of his life when, for a long, exhausting, harrowing day, he thought he’d lost her and broken this beautiful life they shared.

It was then that he realized his body had been telling him he was about to start crying. Hot tears slipped down his cheeks, before they were brushed away by gentle hands.

“James.” Rose caressed her thumbs beneath his eyelids, a silent request. He opened his eyes and saw that hers, too, were glistening with tears. “I love you. More than I can say. More than you’ll know. More than I thought I could ever love someone. You are my happy ending, the happy ending I never thought I’d have, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and laughing with you and crying with you.”

A choked sob bubbled up his throat and he spared a thought for how ridiculous they must look, lying on a bed in a paint-strewn room, connected as intimately as two people could physically be, and yet they were both crying.

“I love you, Rose,” he answered, voice raw. “Thank you for…” For what? For loving him and letting him love her? For letting him apologize and giving him an apology in return? For being patient, kind, and loving? For making him feel at home for the first time in a long, long time? “For everything.”

She brought his face closer to hers and brushed a ghost of a kiss to his cheeks overtop the tear tracks, then to his lips. She planted kiss after kiss to his lips, gently at first, then more frantic as he slid his arms under her shoulders to hold her closer. Their mouths moved greedily together, falling into a rhythm they each knew well as James began to move atop her.

Rose broke the kiss with a sigh, arching her hips into his. Their kisses grew more sporadic, with James concentrating his efforts on her neck and collarbone. She felt amazing, the slick drag of her tightening muscles around his cock sending frissons of pleasure across his entire body, head to toes.

He gathered her impossibly closer, burying his face into her neck as he breathed her in, her scent overpowering the smell of paint in the room. He was surrounded by her, by her warmth, her body, her love. With every thrust of himself into her, he was being consumed, giving himself willingly to her and receiving all of her in return.

Rose began trembling, clenching around him as her breathing hitched. Shifting his weight and balance, he took one of his arms away from her to slip his hand between their bodies to rub the place they were joined. Her back arched, thrusting into him as she squeezed him tighter, tighter, tighter…

She cried out his name, the sound full of pleasure and relief as she was swept away by the force of her orgasm. Shuddering and shaking, her nails dug hard into his spine as she clung to him. He could feel his own pleasure mounting, feel the urgency building within him as he quickened his pace.

His body was too small to contain the maelstrom brewing inside of him. His lungs constricted, leaving him panting raggedly at her shoulder as he moved within her. Rose had stopped pulsing around him, so he returned his arm to the mattress, bracing himself as he snapped his hips harder and faster, chasing his release.

Rose scraped her nails up and down his back, raising goosebumps across his skin and pulling a low groan from deep in his throat. Fuck, she felt incredible. He never wanted to leave this moment, yet he was desperate to reach his climax, to join her in that overpowering ecstasy.

Her lips were at his ear, her hot breath tickling it deliciously as she whispered, “I love you, James. My James. I love you.”

He cursed and cried out as the tension in his belly flared sharply, then rolled outwards, boiling his blood and leaving pleasure in its wake. He’d never felt so good and was sure nothing else would ever feel as amazing as this, despite the past four months proving to him that making love with Rose would always be addicting and overwhelming.

He was thoroughly exhausted when the tide receded and he slumped bonelessly into Rose. He could hardly catch his breath and he was sure his arms would never stop shaking.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Rose mumbled, sounding as worn out as he felt, “but if makeup sex with you is always going to be that intense, we’re gonna need to find things to argue about at least weekly.”

James snorted, then giggled, before he was full-on belly laughing. Rose was laughing just as hard beneath him, her shoulders shaking as she gasped for breath. His abdominals ached by the time he managed to pull himself together.

“Your hair is still a mess,” Rose said, running her fingers through it.

Shivers prickled across his scalp. He moaned and pressed closer.

“I think a shower is gonna be the only way to get all the paint out,” she continued.

“Mmm. I could use a bit of help. To make sure my hair is utterly paint-free.”

She grinned. “I s’pose I could be persuaded to join you. After all, I might’ve gotten paint in my hair and need someone to check it out for me.”

“See? I’m doing you a huge favor,” he said.

Rose pinched him, then sighed and melted into the mattress and pillows. “We probably ought to get more painting done before we shower though.”

“I dunno about you, but it would take an act of God to move me from this bed right now.”

At that moment, James’s phone began to trill with an incoming call. He grunted in annoyance, unsure where he’d left his phone, and figured whoever was calling couldn’t be more important than his post-coital cuddle with Rose.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” she asked, trailing her nails lightly up and down his spine.

He huffed. “Unless God is calling, no.”

“It could be the vet,” Rose said as his phone continued to ring. “Didn’t you say Gollum could come home today or tomorrow?”

With a displeased groan, James pushed himself up to his forearms, then carefully rolled off of her. His muscles complained at the movement; his legs barely held his weight as he stumbled around the room, searching for his phone. The call had ended by the time he found it sitting precariously top of the canvas-covered nightstand. Rose had been right: it was the vet. He learned upon listening to the voicemail message that he could pick Gollum up any time that afternoon before six o’clock.

“Let’s shower then fetch him,” Rose suggested. “We got a lot done today and can finish up tomorrow, if that’s all right.”

James was sure he would be even sorer tomorrow, but he absolutely did not want to do any more painting today. He enthusiastically agreed, and then waggled his eyebrows and said, “Shower time?”

Rose rolled her eyes but a small smile crossed her lips. She shifted off of the bed, looking as stiff as he felt; hopefully the warm water would help loosen their muscles.

James should have known it would be impossible for their shared shower to be purely functional. As they washed themselves and helped each other scrub off stubborn flecks of paint, they found any excuse to stand closer than necessary. Their damp, soapy bodies rubbed together deliciously and James couldn’t help but trail wet kisses across her skin as his body thrummed with renewed desire. When Rose shampooed his hair and dug her nails deep into his scalp to scrape away all of the paint, James thought he was going to combust on the spot. All of his blood pulsed into his cock with dizzying intensity; by the time Rose rinsed the suds from his hair, he was grinding himself firmly into her hip.

“Again?” she asked with a smirk.

“Please,” he rasped. “I want you.”

“Shower sex requires more balance and strength than I currently have,” she said, sliding her palm down his belly to take him in hand. “But I can think of something else I can do with this.”

With that, she dropped to her knees before him and wasted no time in slotting her mouth over him. Pleasure sparked up his spine and goosebumps prickled across his skin despite standing beneath the warm spray of water. Her tongue drummed across his cock while her hand stroked the base of him.

She built him up with a steady rhythm, and James let himself be lost in her ministrations, for once unbothered that he wasn’t going to last very long. He couldn’t bring himself to care, not when the friction of her hand and the suction of her mouth felt so bloody good.

He grunted out a warning when the heat in his belly coiled in on itself. Smirking, she took her mouth off of him and pumped her hand harder and faster down his cock. She arched her chest closer, the overhead lights shimmering off her wet, flushed skin as the head of his cock brushed the swell of her breasts, and oh God, he was done for.

The tension unsnapped in a sharp wave of pleasure and relief that left him moaning and curling his toes into the wet, textured floor of his shower. He thrust into the sensations rocking through his body as her hand continued moving on him, drawing out his orgasm for as long as she could.

He cursed when his ears stopped roaring and his head stopped swimming. Rose was still crouched in front of him, evidence of his pleasure spattered across her breasts as she lazily stroked his softening cock. He shivered.

“Thanks,” he croaked a bit stupidly.

She grinned. “My pleasure.”

“Pretty sure the pleasure was all mine, actually.” He helped haul her to her feet, and he crashed his mouth to hers. Between kisses, he murmured, “That felt incredible. Thank you.”

“I love doing that to you,” she replied, sighing when he tilted her head back to kiss her neck.

“Looks like you got all covered in paint again,” he drawled, trailing his fingertips across her breasts.

“Really? That’s your line?” she snorted.

He pouted. “What’s wrong with my line? That was a brilliant line.”

She simply rolled her eyes, but another smile tugged at her lips. “That was a terrible line and so cheesy and so dorky.” Before he could splutter out a rebuttal, she kissed him and said, “But you’re my cheesy dork.”

His blood warmed and he hummed, his body overflowing with love and appreciation for her. He kissed her softly and whispered, “Since I got you messy, it’s only fair that I wash it all off.”

“Hmmm?”

James trailed his fingers up and down her sides, from her breasts to her hips, in long, slow strokes. Her nipples pebbled and tightened so invitingly, and he couldn’t keep himself from taking one into his mouth. She arched into his touch, fisting her fingers through his hair to hold him in place. As if he would ever want to move.

Time ceased to mean anything as he lavished attention to her breasts, letting his tongue and the spray of the shower rinse her chest clean. Her breathing turned ragged the longer he allowed his teeth and tongue to tease her nipples and the curve of her breasts. When his back and neck grew too sore to remain hunched as he was, he dropped to his knees before her and gave the same attention to her hips and lower belly.

She thrust closer to his touch, trying to get him where she wanted him, but he smiled to himself and grabbed her hips, halting their impatient movements.

“James,” she whined, tugging at his hair. “I didn’t make you wait.”

“As I recall, earlier you told me, and I quote, You can go down on me for as long as you like later. It’s later, isn’t it? And I am nowhere near satisfied yet.”

“James, please,” she begged, and fuck, if she didn’t know what that did to him.

He shivered and tried to continue kissing her hips and thighs, but he was desperate to taste her, to hear her sounds of pleasure.

“C’mere.” He tapped one of her legs, encouraging her to drape it over his shoulder. “I won’t let you fall.”

Rose obeyed, bracing her back on the shower wall for balance and leverage. She gripped his hair tightly with one hand while her other shot to the washcloth holder. Her knuckles went white from how hard she clung to it.

“Relax,” he breathed, planting barely-there kisses right above where he knew she wanted him.

She growled in frustration and arched into him. He caressed her leg, then finally lowered his mouth and lick a long, slow line through her folds. She cursed and squeezed his hair, before loosening her hold.

He feasted on her as though he were a starving man. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t taste enough of her. Her urgent moans spurred him on, and he redoubled his efforts.

“James. I’m gonna…”

He hummed into her, loving her sharp cry as she trembled apart around him. Her thighs shook and he made sure to brace himself to take on more of her weight in case she lost her balance. Rose dug her heel into his spine, pressing him closer to her as she sighed his name and a string of curses.

Many long moments later, Rose shakily unhooked her leg from his shoulder and urged him to his feet. He held her to him trailing his fingers up and down her spine as she worked to slow her breathing.

“I love you,” she mumbled, face buried in the side of his neck. “You are so good at that.”

He puffed up with pride. “You deserve nothing less. Besides, I love doing that to you. Though I’m miffed you wouldn’t let me go on for longer.”

As though to contradict him, their hot water turned lukewarm, then went suddenly frigid. James, who had his back to the spray, yelped and leapt out of the water’s path, knocking Rose into the wall.

“Christ that’s cold!”

Rose cackled and ruffled his wet hair before she reached around him and turned the water off. “See. It’s a good thing I didn’t let you carry on. I would’ve been furious if a jet of cold water interrupted that.”

James sighed, then grudgingly stepped away from Rose to exit the shower.

“Dunno about you, but I’m starving,” Rose said while they towel dried themselves.

“Worked up quite an appetite, did you?” he asked, winking.

“Nah, I think it’s just ‘cos it’s way past lunch time,” she replied sweetly.

When they were dried and dressed once more, they exited the bedroom and closed the door behind them, then released Merry and Pippin from the basement.

They inhaled a quick lunch of turkey sandwiches and sour cream and cheddar crisps, with half of a cupcake for dessert. As James cut the cupcake in half—horizontally between “happy” and “birthday”—he remembered the gift he’d had stashed away in his backpack all month long.

“Oh, bugger,” he muttered to himself, ignoring Rose’s look of confusion as he abruptly dropped the knife and rushed to the front door where his bag hung from a peg on the coat rack.

He rifled through it until he found the thin, rectangular velvet box. He had nearly decided on a thicker square box until he realized the box looked like it might hold a ring, and he hadn’t wanted to send mixed messages. If—when, he thought hopefully—he proposed to Rose, he wanted that to be the first and only time she thought a proposal was coming. He didn’t want to tease it in front of her without following through.

Necklace box in tow, he returned to Rose and held it out to her. “Happy birthday. I’ve been carrying it around all month to give to you whenever you told me it was your birthday. It slipped my mind last night.”

Rose’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink as she accepted the box from him with a mumbled, “Thanks,” and a brief kiss. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his toes and heels as she took the lid off of the box.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she breathed, running her fingertips delicately across the silver chain and pendant. She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you. I love it.”

He exhaled in relief; he hadn’t been sure what her response would be, since she had an aversion to gifts. But he’d seen the infinity heart design and hadn’t been able to resist.

Rose must have noticed his reaction, and she smiled sheepishly. “I’m trying to be better about accepting gifts. Especially since you enjoy giving them. I really love it, James. Thank you. Will you put it on me?”

She took the necklace out of the box and handed it to him. He draped it around her neck then clasped it, brushing a kiss to her nape to sign off on a job well done.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, unable to resist kissing her again.

She hummed and melted into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips as she said, “Let’s finish lunch then we can collect Gollum.”

“I’d rather continue kissing you,” he countered, leaving kisses along the side of her neck.

“We can keep kissing when we get home,” she answered, though with how she threaded her fingers through his hair, she was in no rush to put an end to their activities either.

“Or… we can kiss now.”

Rose breathed out a laugh. “You should be a responsible pet owner. Let’s fetch Gollum, then when we get back, we can snog on the couch for the rest of the night.”

“Hmmm, you drive a hard bargain.” He planted a final kiss to the patch of skin right below her ear, enjoying her slight shudder, then pulled away to guide her to the kitchen and their shared, halved cupcake.

#ficandchips #doctorroseprompts #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #university au #romance #lemons #my fic #chemical reaction #catalysis series #chemical potential sequel

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